[
  {
    "path": ".Rbuildignore",
    "content": "^.*\\.Rproj$\n^\\.Rproj\\.user$\n^\\.git$\n^\\.r-lib$\n^README\\.Rmd$\n^README-*\\.png$\n^data-raw$\n^\\.travis\\.yml$\nwordnet\n^appveyor\\.yml$\n^CONDUCT\\.md$\n^cran-comments\\.md$\n^Makefile$\n^_pkgdown\\.yml$\n^pkgdown$\ndocs/\n"
  },
  {
    "path": ".gitignore",
    "content": ".Rproj\n*.Rproj\n.Rproj.user\n.Rhistory\n.RData\n.Ruserdata\nsrc/*.o\nsrc/*.so\nsrc/*.dll\n"
  },
  {
    "path": ".travis.yml",
    "content": "language: r\nr:\n  - oldrel\n  - release\n  - devel\nsudo: false\ncache: packages\n\nafter_success:\n  - Rscript -e 'covr::codecov()'\n\nnotifications:\n  email:\n    on_success: change\n    on_failure: change\n  slack:\n    secure: gxP5b9VO52sKP72YB1iFwt5U73s6O1nq9o1vH6ddrvEIRgpzSQO7lIH8/KYfjj+eFRXCIWtFnrkar2kw2sfGJVERnJ9R13XtVDc23tApkZjacTxHUov39WbS4zI03Tb9pX86ywUNcs0rhVKok3CD9V80fybd3nFy8Vy/ugSBp7s=\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "CONDUCT.md",
    "content": "# Contributor Code of Conduct\n\nAs contributors and maintainers of this project, we pledge to respect all people who \ncontribute through reporting issues, posting feature requests, updating documentation,\nsubmitting pull requests or patches, and other activities.\n\nWe are committed to making participation in this project a harassment-free experience for\neveryone, regardless of level of experience, gender, gender identity and expression,\nsexual orientation, disability, personal appearance, body size, race, ethnicity, age, or religion.\n\nExamples of unacceptable behavior by participants include the use of sexual language or\nimagery, derogatory comments or personal attacks, trolling, public or private harassment,\ninsults, or other unprofessional conduct.\n\nProject maintainers have the right and responsibility to remove, edit, or reject comments,\ncommits, code, wiki edits, issues, and other contributions that are not aligned to this \nCode of Conduct. Project maintainers who do not follow the Code of Conduct may be removed \nfrom the project team.\n\nInstances of abusive, harassing, or otherwise unacceptable behavior may be reported by \nopening an issue or contacting one or more of the project maintainers.\n\nThis Code of Conduct is adapted from the Contributor Covenant \n(http:contributor-covenant.org), version 1.0.0, available at \nhttp://contributor-covenant.org/version/1/0/0/\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "DESCRIPTION",
    "content": "Package: textreuse\nType: Package\nTitle: Detect Text Reuse and Document Similarity\nVersion: 1.0.1\nDate: 2026-05-06\nAuthors@R: c(\n    person(\"Lincoln\", \"Mullen\", role = \"aut\",\n        comment = c(ORCID = \"0000-0001-5103-6917\")\n    ),\n    person(\"Yaoxiang\", \"Li\", role = c(\"aut\", \"cre\"),\n        email = \"liyaoxiang@outlook.com\",\n        comment = c(ORCID = \"0000-0001-9200-1016\")))\nDescription: Tools for measuring similarity among documents and detecting\n    passages which have been reused. Implements shingled n-gram, skip n-gram,\n    and other tokenizers; similarity/dissimilarity functions; pairwise\n    comparisons; minhash and locality sensitive hashing algorithms; and a\n    version of the Smith-Waterman local alignment algorithm suitable for\n    natural language.\nLicense: MIT + file LICENSE\nLazyData: TRUE\nURL: https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/,\n    https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse\nBugReports: https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse/issues\nVignetteBuilder: knitr\nDepends:\n    R (>= 3.1.1)\nImports:\n    assertthat (>= 0.1),\n    digest (>= 0.6.8),\n    dplyr (>= 0.8.0),\n    NLP (>= 0.1.8),\n    Matrix,\n    Rcpp (>= 0.12.0),\n    RcppProgress  (>= 0.1),\n    stringr (>= 1.0.0),\n    tibble (>= 3.0.1),\n    tidyr (>= 1.0.0)\nSuggests:\n    testthat (>= 0.11.0),\n    knitr (>= 1.11),\n    rmarkdown (>= 0.8),\n    covr\nLinkingTo: BH, Rcpp, RcppProgress\nRoxygenNote: 7.3.2\nEncoding: UTF-8\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "LICENSE",
    "content": "YEAR: 2026\nCOPYRIGHT HOLDER: Yaoxiang Li and Lincoln Mullen\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "Makefile",
    "content": ".PHONY : docs deploy-docs\n\ndocs :\n\tRscript -e \"pkgdown::clean_site(); pkgdown::build_site(run_dont_run = TRUE)\"\n\ndeploy-docs :\n\t@echo \"Documentation is published by rOpenSci at https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/\"\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "NAMESPACE",
    "content": "# Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n\nS3method(\"[\",TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(\"[[\",TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(\"content<-\",TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(\"hashes<-\",TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(\"meta<-\",TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(\"meta<-\",TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(\"minhashes<-\",TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(\"names<-\",TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(\"tokens<-\",TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(align_local,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(align_local,default)\nS3method(as.character,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(as.matrix,textreuse_candidates)\nS3method(content,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(count_matches,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(count_matches,default)\nS3method(hashes,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(hashes,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(jaccard_bag_similarity,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(jaccard_bag_similarity,default)\nS3method(jaccard_dissimilarity,default)\nS3method(jaccard_similarity,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(jaccard_similarity,default)\nS3method(length,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(lsh,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(lsh,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(matching_tokens,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(matching_tokens,default)\nS3method(meta,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(meta,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(minhashes,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(minhashes,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(names,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(print,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(print,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(print,textreuse_alignment)\nS3method(ratio_of_matches,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(ratio_of_matches,default)\nS3method(rehash,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(rehash,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(tokenize,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(tokenize,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(tokens,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(tokens,TextReuseTextDocument)\nS3method(wordcount,TextDocument)\nS3method(wordcount,TextReuseCorpus)\nS3method(wordcount,default)\nexport(\"content<-\")\nexport(\"hashes<-\")\nexport(\"meta<-\")\nexport(\"minhashes<-\")\nexport(\"tokens<-\")\nexport(TextReuseCorpus)\nexport(TextReuseTextDocument)\nexport(align_local)\nexport(as_sparse_matrix)\nexport(content)\nexport(count_matches)\nexport(filenames)\nexport(has_content)\nexport(has_hashes)\nexport(has_minhashes)\nexport(has_tokens)\nexport(hash_string)\nexport(hashes)\nexport(is.TextReuseCorpus)\nexport(is.TextReuseTextDocument)\nexport(jaccard_bag_similarity)\nexport(jaccard_dissimilarity)\nexport(jaccard_similarity)\nexport(lsh)\nexport(lsh_add)\nexport(lsh_candidates)\nexport(lsh_compare)\nexport(lsh_probability)\nexport(lsh_query)\nexport(lsh_subset)\nexport(lsh_threshold)\nexport(matching_tokens)\nexport(meta)\nexport(minhash_generator)\nexport(minhashes)\nexport(pairwise_candidates)\nexport(pairwise_compare)\nexport(ratio_of_matches)\nexport(rehash)\nexport(skipped)\nexport(token_index)\nexport(token_index_candidates)\nexport(tokenize)\nexport(tokenize_ngrams)\nexport(tokenize_sentences)\nexport(tokenize_skip_ngrams)\nexport(tokenize_words)\nexport(tokens)\nexport(wordcount)\nimport(RcppProgress)\nimport(assertthat)\nimport(stringr)\nimportFrom(NLP,\"content<-\")\nimportFrom(NLP,\"meta<-\")\nimportFrom(NLP,content)\nimportFrom(NLP,meta)\nimportFrom(Rcpp,sourceCpp)\nimportFrom(utils,getTxtProgressBar)\nimportFrom(utils,setTxtProgressBar)\nimportFrom(utils,txtProgressBar)\nuseDynLib(textreuse, .registration = TRUE)\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "NEWS.md",
    "content": "# textreuse 1.0.1\n\nThis release brings together several years of maintenance and feature work to\nmake textreuse easier to use on current R installations and more practical for\nlarger document collections.\n\nThis is a CRAN resubmission that fixes a moved README URL reported by CRAN\nincoming checks.\n\n## Text input and corpus construction\n\n- `TextReuseTextDocument()` and `TextReuseCorpus()` now accept an `encoding`\n  argument, making it easier to read source files whose text encoding is known\n  or differs from the platform default.\n- `TextReuseCorpus()` now keeps skipped-document bookkeeping deterministic.\n  Skipped documents are reported consistently, and skip metadata is available\n  even when `skip_short = FALSE`.\n- Very short documents are handled more predictably when skip n-grams are used,\n  avoiding assertion failures and making corpus construction easier to diagnose.\n\n## Alignment and match inspection\n\n- `align_local()` now returns an empty local alignment instead of throwing an\n  error when two texts have no matching words. This makes batch alignment\n  workflows easier to run because no-match pairs can be represented directly.\n- `align_local()` gains `preserve_punctuation`, allowing displayed alignments to\n  keep punctuation from the original texts when that context is useful.\n- New `count_matches()` and `matching_tokens()` helpers expose absolute match\n  counts and the matched tokens themselves, so users can inspect what drove a\n  similarity score rather than relying only on a ratio.\n\n## Candidate generation and comparison\n\n- New token-index helpers find candidate document pairs from shared n-grams,\n  giving users another way to identify likely reuse pairs before running more\n  expensive comparisons.\n- `pairwise_candidates()` and matrix conversion now preserve all document IDs,\n  including documents without returned candidate pairs.\n- `as_sparse_matrix()` provides a sparse matrix representation of candidate\n  results, which is more convenient for downstream modeling, graph analysis, and\n  workflows with many documents.\n\n## Locality-sensitive hashing\n\n- `lsh_add()` can add new documents to an existing LSH bucket cache, so users can\n  extend an index without rebuilding it from scratch.\n- `lsh_compare()` can run comparisons in parallel on non-Windows platforms when\n  `options(mc.cores)` is set.\n- Long-running C++ hashing and n-gram loops now check for user interrupts, so\n  expensive jobs can be stopped more cleanly from R.\n\n## Compatibility and documentation\n\n- Compatibility with current dplyr and tidyr releases has been refreshed.\n- README, vignette, reference, and pkgdown examples were regenerated against\n  current package output.\n- Stale external links and documentation badges were updated so package checks\n  and the public documentation site are cleaner.\n\n# textreuse 0.1.4\n\n- Preventative maintenance release to avoid failing tests when new version of\n  BH is released.\n\n# textreuse 0.1.3\n\n- Preventative maintenance release to avoid failing tests when new versions of \n  the dplyr and testthat packages are released.\n\n# textreuse 0.1.2\n\n- Fix memory error in `shingle_ngrams()`\n- Fix tests for retokenizing on Windows\n- More informative error message if using `lsh()` on corpora without minhashes\n\n# textreuse 0.1.1\n\n- Fix progress bars in vignettes\n\n# textreuse 0.1.0\n\n- Initial release\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/RcppExports.R",
    "content": "# Generated by using Rcpp::compileAttributes() -> do not edit by hand\n# Generator token: 10BE3573-1514-4C36-9D1C-5A225CD40393\n\n#' Hash a string to an integer\n#' @param x A character vector to be hashed.\n#' @return A vector of integer hashes.\n#' @examples\n#' s <- c(\"How\", \"many\", \"roads\", \"must\", \"a\", \"man\", \"walk\", \"down\")\n#' hash_string(s)\n#' @export\nhash_string <- function(x) {\n    .Call(`_textreuse_hash_string`, x)\n}\n\nshingle_ngrams <- function(words, n) {\n    .Call(`_textreuse_shingle_ngrams`, words, n)\n}\n\nskip_ngrams <- function(words, n, k) {\n    .Call(`_textreuse_skip_ngrams`, words, n, k)\n}\n\nsw_matrix <- function(m, a, b, match, mismatch, gap, progress) {\n    .Call(`_textreuse_sw_matrix`, m, a, b, match, mismatch, gap, progress)\n}\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/TextReuseCorpus.R",
    "content": "#' TextReuseCorpus\n#'\n#' This is the constructor function for a \\code{TextReuseCorpus}, modeled on the\n#' virtual S3 class \\code{Corpus} from the \\code{tm} package. The\n#' object is a \\code{TextReuseCorpus}, which is basically a list containing\n#' objects of class \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}. Arguments are passed\n#' along to that constructor function. To create the corpus, you can pass either\n#' a character vector of paths to text files using the \\code{paths =} parameter,\n#' a directory containing text files (with any extension) using the \\code{dir =}\n#' parameter, or a character vector of documents using the \\code{text = }\n#' parameter, where each element in the characer vector is a document. If the\n#' character vector passed to \\code{text = } has names, then those names will be\n#' used as the document IDs. Otherwise, IDs will be assigned to the documents.\n#' Only one of the \\code{paths}, \\code{dir}, or \\code{text} parameters should be\n#' specified.\n#'\n#' @details If \\code{skip_short = TRUE}, this function will skip very short or\n#'   empty documents. A very short document is one where there are too few words\n#'   to create at least two n-grams. For example, if five-grams are desired,\n#'   then a document must be at least six words long. If no value of \\code{n} is\n#'   provided, then the function assumes a value of \\code{n = 3}. A warning will\n#'   be printed with the document ID of each skipped document. Use\n#'   \\code{skipped()} to get the IDs of skipped documents.\n#'\n#'   This function will use multiple cores on non-Windows machines if the\n#'   \\code{\"mc.cores\"} option is set. For example, to use four cores:\n#'   \\code{options(\"mc.cores\" = 4L)}.\n#'\n#' @param paths A character vector of paths to files to be opened.\n#' @param dir The path to a directory of text files.\n#' @param text A character vector (possibly named) of documents.\n#' @param meta A list with named elements for the metadata associated with this\n#'   corpus.\n#' @param progress Display a progress bar while loading files.\n#' @param tokenizer A function to split the text into tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{tokenizers}}. If value is \\code{NULL}, then tokenizing and\n#'   hashing will be skipped.\n#' @param ... Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.\n#' @param hash_func A function to hash the tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{hash_string}}.\n#' @param minhash_func A function to create minhash signatures of the document.\n#'   See \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.\n#' @param keep_tokens Should the tokens be saved in the documents that are\n#'   returned or discarded?\n#' @param keep_text Should the text be saved in the documents that are returned\n#'   or discarded?\n#' @param skip_short Should short documents be skipped? (See details.)\n#' @param encoding Encoding to be used when reading files.\n#'\n#' @seealso \\link[=TextReuseTextDocument-accessors]{Accessors for TextReuse\n#'   objects}.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, meta = list(\"description\" = \"Field Codes\"))\n#' # Subset by position or file name\n#' corpus[[1]]\n#' names(corpus)\n#' corpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]]\n#'\n#' @export\nTextReuseCorpus <- function(paths, dir = NULL, text = NULL, meta = list(),\n                            progress = interactive(),\n                            tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, ...,\n                            hash_func = hash_string,\n                            minhash_func = NULL,\n                            keep_tokens = FALSE,\n                            keep_text = TRUE,\n                            skip_short = TRUE,\n                            encoding = \"unknown\") {\n\n  if (!is.null(tokenizer)) {\n    assert_that(is.function(tokenizer),\n                is.function(hash_func))\n    tokenizer_name <- as.character(substitute(tokenizer))\n    hash_func_name <- as.character(substitute(hash_func))\n    if (!is.null(minhash_func)) {\n      minhash_func_name <- as.character(substitute(minhash_func))\n    } else {\n      minhash_func_name <- NULL\n    }\n    loading_msg <- \"Loading, tokenizing, and hashing \"\n  } else {\n    tokenizer_name <- NULL\n    hash_func_name <- NULL\n    minhash_func_name <- NULL\n    loading_msg <- \"Loading \"\n  }\n\n  apply_func <- get_apply_function()\n\n  # If we get a character vector of documents, use that; otherwise load\n  # the files from disk.\n  if (!missing(text)) {\n\n    assert_that(missing(paths),\n                is.null(dir),\n                is.character(text))\n\n    if (progress) {\n      len <- length(text)\n      message(loading_msg, prettyNum(len, big.mark = \",\"), \" documents.\")\n      if (using_parallel())\n        progress <- FALSE\n      else\n        pb <- txtProgressBar(min = 0, max = len, style = 3)\n    }\n\n    if (is.null(names(text)))\n      names(text) <- str_c(\"doc-\", 1:length(text))\n\n    docs <- apply_func(seq_along(text), function(i) {\n      d <- TextReuseTextDocument(text = text[i],\n                                 tokenizer = tokenizer, ...,\n                                 hash_func = hash_func,\n                                 minhash_func = minhash_func,\n                                 keep_tokens = keep_tokens,\n                                 keep_text = keep_text,\n                                 skip_short = skip_short,\n                                 encoding = encoding,\n                                 meta = list(id = names(text)[i],\n                                             tokenizer = tokenizer_name,\n                                             hash_func = hash_func_name,\n                                             minhash_func = minhash_func_name))\n      if (progress) setTxtProgressBar(pb, i)\n      d\n    })\n\n    if (progress) close(pb)\n\n    names(docs) <- names(text)\n\n  } else {\n\n    if (missing(paths) & !is.null(dir)) {\n      assert_that(is.dir(dir))\n      paths <- Sys.glob(str_c(dir, \"/*\"))\n    }\n\n    vapply(paths, is.readable, logical(1), USE.NAMES = FALSE)\n\n    if (progress) {\n      len <- length(paths)\n      message(loading_msg, prettyNum(len, big.mark = \",\"), \" documents.\")\n      if (using_parallel())\n        progress <- FALSE\n      else\n        pb <- txtProgressBar(min = 0, max = len, style = 3)\n    }\n    docs <- apply_func(seq_along(paths), function(i) {\n      d <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = paths[i], tokenizer = tokenizer, ...,\n                                 hash_func = hash_func,\n                                 minhash_func = minhash_func,\n                                 keep_tokens = keep_tokens,\n                                 keep_text = keep_text,\n                                 skip_short = skip_short,\n                                 encoding = encoding,\n                                 meta = list(tokenizer = tokenizer_name,\n                                             hash_func = hash_func_name,\n                                             minhash_func = minhash_func_name))\n      if (progress) setTxtProgressBar(pb, i)\n      d\n    })\n\n    if (progress) close(pb)\n\n    names(docs) <- filenames(paths)\n  }\n\n  skipped <- character()\n\n  # Filter documents that were skipped because they were too short\n  if (skip_short) {\n    skipped_docs <- vapply(docs, is.null, logical(1))\n    skipped <- names(docs)[skipped_docs]\n    docs <- docs[!skipped_docs]\n    if (length(skipped) > 0)\n      warning(\"Skipped \", length(skipped), \" documents that were too short. \",\n              \"Use `skipped()` to get their IDs.\")\n  }\n\n  assert_that(is.list(meta))\n  meta$tokenizer <- tokenizer_name\n  meta$hash_func <- hash_func_name\n  meta$minhash_func <- minhash_func_name\n\n  if (!is.null(names(meta))) meta <- sort_meta(meta)\n\n  corpus <- list(documents = docs, meta = meta)\n  class(corpus) <- c(\"TextReuseCorpus\", \"Corpus\")\n  attr(corpus, \"skipped\") <- skipped\n\n  corpus\n\n}\n\n#' @export\nmeta.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x, tag = NULL, ...) {\n  if (is.null(tag))\n    x$meta\n  else\n    x$meta[[tag]]\n}\n\n#' @export\n`meta<-.TextReuseCorpus` <- function(x, tag = NULL, ..., value) {\n  if (is.null(tag)) {\n    assert_that(is.list(value))\n    x$meta <- value\n  } else {\n    x$meta[[tag]] <- value\n  }\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\nprint.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x, ...) {\n  cat(\"TextReuseCorpus\\n\")\n  cat(\"Number of documents:\", length(x), \"\\n\")\n  pretty_print_metadata(x)\n}\n\n#' @export\nlength.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  length(x$documents)\n}\n\n#' @export\n`[.TextReuseCorpus` <- function(x, i) {\n  x$documents <- x$documents[i]\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\n`[[.TextReuseCorpus` <- function(x, i) {\n  x$documents[[i]]\n}\n\n#' @export\nnames.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  names(x$documents)\n}\n\n#' @export\n`names<-.TextReuseCorpus` <- function(x, value) {\n  names(x$documents) <- value\n  x\n}\n\n#' @param x An R object to check.\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseCorpus\nis.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  inherits(x, \"TextReuseCorpus\")\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseCorpus\nskipped <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseCorpus(x))\n  attr(x, \"skipped\", exact = TRUE)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/TextReuseTextDocument.R",
    "content": "#' TextReuseTextDocument\n#'\n#' This is the constructor function for \\code{TextReuseTextDocument} objects.\n#' This class is used for comparing documents.\n#'\n#' @param text A character vector containing the text of the document. This\n#'   argument can be skipped if supplying \\code{file}.\n#' @param file The path to a text file, if \\code{text} is not provided.\n#' @param meta A list with named elements for the metadata associated with this\n#'   document. If a document is created using the \\code{text} parameter, then\n#'   you must provide an \\code{id} field, e.g., \\code{meta = list(id =\n#'   \"my_id\")}. If the document is created using \\code{file}, then the ID will\n#'   be created from the file name.\n#' @param tokenizer A function to split the text into tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{tokenizers}}. If value is \\code{NULL}, then tokenizing and\n#'   hashing will be skipped.\n#' @param ... Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.\n#' @param hash_func A function to hash the tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{hash_string}}.\n#' @param minhash_func A function to create minhash signatures of the document.\n#'   See \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.\n#' @param keep_tokens Should the tokens be saved in the document that is\n#'   returned or discarded?\n#' @param keep_text Should the text be saved in the document that is returned or\n#'   discarded?\n#' @param skip_short Should short documents be skipped? (See details.)\n#' @param encoding Encoding to be used when reading files.\n#'\n#' @details This constructor function follows a three-step process. It reads in\n#'   the text, either from a file or from memory. It then tokenizes that text.\n#'   Then it hashes the tokens. Most of the comparison functions in this package\n#'   rely only on the hashes to make the comparison. By passing \\code{FALSE} to\n#'   \\code{keep_tokens} and \\code{keep_text}, you can avoid saving those\n#'   objects, which can result in significant memory savings for large corpora.\n#'\n#'   If \\code{skip_short = TRUE}, this function will return \\code{NULL} for very\n#'   short or empty documents. A very short document is one where there are too\n#'   few words to create at least two n-grams. For example, if five-grams are\n#'   desired, then a document must be at least six words long. If no value of\n#'   \\code{n} is provided, then the function assumes a value of \\code{n = 3}. A\n#'   warning will be printed with the document ID of a skipped document.\n#'\n#' @return An object of class \\code{TextReuseTextDocument}. This object inherits\n#'   from the virtual S3 class \\code{\\link[NLP]{TextDocument}} in the NLP\n#'   package. It contains the following elements: \\describe{ \\item{content}{The\n#'   text of the document.} \\item{tokens}{The tokens created from the text.}\n#'   \\item{hashes}{Hashes created from the tokens.} \\item{minhashes}{The minhash\n#'   signature of the document.} \\item{metadata}{The document metadata,\n#'   including the filename (if any) in \\code{file}.} }\n#'\n#' @seealso \\link[=TextReuseTextDocument-accessors]{Accessors for TextReuse\n#'   objects}.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' file <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' doc  <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, meta = list(id = \"ny1850\"))\n#' print(doc)\n#' meta(doc)\n#' head(tokens(doc))\n#' head(hashes(doc))\n#' \\dontrun{\n#' content(doc)\n#' }\n#' @export\nTextReuseTextDocument <- function(text, file = NULL, meta = list(),\n                                  tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, ...,\n                                  hash_func = hash_string,\n                                  minhash_func = NULL,\n                                  keep_tokens = FALSE,\n                                  keep_text = TRUE,\n                                  skip_short = TRUE,\n                                  encoding = \"unknown\") {\n\n  if (!missing(text)) assert_that(has_id(meta))\n\n  if (!is.null(file)) {\n    assert_that(missing(text),\n                is.readable(file))\n    text <- as_string(readLines(file, encoding = encoding))\n  }\n\n  assert_that(is.character(text))\n  text <- as_string(text)\n\n  # Define document ID early\n  document_id <- ifelse(is.null(meta$id), filenames(file), meta$id)\n\n  # Check length of document\n  if (skip_short) {\n    min_words <- short_document_word_minimum(tokenizer, list(...))\n    if (wordcount(text) < min_words) {\n      warning(\"Skipping document with ID '\", document_id,\n              \"' because it has too few words \",\n              \"to create tokens with the requested tokenizer.\",\n              call. = FALSE, noBreaks. = TRUE)\n      return(NULL)\n    }\n  }\n\n  # Tokenize and hash\n  if (!is.null(tokenizer)) {\n\n    assert_that(is.function(tokenizer))\n    tokenizer_name <- as.character(substitute(tokenizer))\n    tokens <- tokenizer(text, ...)\n\n    assert_that(is.function(hash_func))\n    hash_func_name <- as.character(substitute(hash_func))\n    hashes <- hash_func(tokens)\n\n    # Also minhash if requested\n    if (!is.null(minhash_func)) {\n      assert_that(is.function(minhash_func))\n      minhash_func_name <- as.character(substitute(minhash_func))\n      minhashes <- minhash_func(tokens)\n    } else {\n      minhashes <- NULL\n      minhash_func_name <- NULL\n    }\n\n  } else {\n    tokens <- NULL\n    hashes <- NULL\n    minhashes <- NULL\n    tokenizer_name <- NULL\n    hash_func_name <- NULL\n    minhash_func_name <- NULL\n\n  }\n\n  if (!keep_tokens) tokens <- NULL\n  if (!keep_text) text <- NULL\n\n  if (missing(meta)) {\n    meta <- list(file = file,\n                 id = document_id,\n                 tokenizer = tokenizer_name,\n                 hash_func = hash_func_name,\n                 minhash_func = minhash_func_name)\n  }\n  assert_that(is.list(meta))\n  if (!is.null(file)) {\n    meta$file <- file\n    meta$id <- document_id\n  }\n  # Don't overwrite these when called from TextReuseCorpus\n  if (is.null(meta$tokenizer) & is.null(meta$hash_func) &\n      is.null(meta$minhash_func)) {\n    meta$tokenizer <- tokenizer_name\n    meta$hash_func <- hash_func_name\n    meta$minhash_func <- minhash_func_name\n  }\n\n  meta <- sort_meta(meta)\n\n  doc <- list(\n    content   = text,\n    tokens    = tokens,\n    hashes    = hashes,\n    minhashes = minhashes,\n    meta      = meta\n    )\n\n  class(doc) <- c(\"TextReuseTextDocument\", \"TextDocument\")\n\n  doc\n\n}\n\nshort_document_word_minimum <- function(tokenizer, args) {\n  n <- args$n\n  if (is.null(n)) n <- 3\n\n  if (!is.null(tokenizer) && identical(tokenizer, tokenize_skip_ngrams)) {\n    k <- args$k\n    if (is.null(k)) k <- 1\n    return(n + n * k - k)\n  }\n\n  n + 1\n}\n\n#' @importFrom NLP meta\n#' @export\nNLP::meta\n\n#' @importFrom NLP meta<-\n#' @export\nNLP::`meta<-`\n\n#' @importFrom NLP content\n#' @export\nNLP::content\n\n#' @importFrom NLP content<-\n#' @export\nNLP::`content<-`\n\n#' @export\nprint.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, ...) {\n  cat(\"TextReuseTextDocument\\n\")\n  pretty_print_metadata(x)\n  cat(\"content\", \":\", str_sub(x$content, end = 200))\n  invisible(x)\n}\n\n#' @export\nas.character.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, ...) {\n  as.character(x$content)\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @method content TextReuseTextDocument\ncontent.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x) {\n  x$content\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @method content<- TextReuseTextDocument\n`content<-.TextReuseTextDocument` <- function(x, value) {\n  assert_that(is.character(value))\n  x$content <- value\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @method meta TextReuseTextDocument\nmeta.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, tag = NULL, ...) {\n  if (is.null(tag))\n    x$meta\n  else\n    x$meta[[tag]]\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @method meta<- TextReuseTextDocument\n`meta<-.TextReuseTextDocument` <- function(x, tag = NULL, ..., value) {\n  if (is.null(tag)) {\n    assert_that(is.list(value))\n    x$meta <- value\n  } else {\n    x$meta[[tag]] <- value\n  }\n  x\n}\n\n#' Accessors for TextReuse objects\n#'\n#' Accessor functions to read and write components of\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} and \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}\n#' objects.\n#' @name TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\n#' @param x The object to access.\n#' @param value The value to assign.\n#' @return Either a vector or a named list of vectors.\nNULL\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\ntokens <- function(x) UseMethod(\"tokens\", x)\n\n#' @export\ntokens.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x) x$tokens\n\n#' @export\ntokens.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  corpus_names <- names(x)\n  l <- lapply(x$documents, function(i) tokens(i))\n  names(l) <- corpus_names\n  l\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\n`tokens<-` <- function(x, value) UseMethod(\"tokens<-\", x)\n\n#' @export\n`tokens<-.TextReuseTextDocument` <- function(x, value) {\n  x$tokens <- value\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\nhashes <- function(x) UseMethod(\"hashes\", x)\n\n#' @export\nhashes.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x) x$hashes\n\n#' @export\nhashes.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  corpus_names <- names(x)\n  l <- lapply(x$documents, function(i) hashes(i))\n  names(l) <- corpus_names\n  l\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\n`hashes<-` <- function(x, value) UseMethod(\"hashes<-\", x)\n\n#' @export\n`hashes<-.TextReuseTextDocument` <- function(x, value) {\n  x$hashes <- value\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\nminhashes <- function(x) UseMethod(\"minhashes\", x)\n\n#' @export\nminhashes.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x) x$minhashes\n\n#' @export\nminhashes.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  corpus_names <- names(x)\n  l <- lapply(x$documents, function(i) minhashes(i))\n  names(l) <- corpus_names\n  l\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument-accessors\n`minhashes<-` <- function(x, value) UseMethod(\"minhashes<-\", x)\n\n#' @export\n`minhashes<-.TextReuseTextDocument` <- function(x, value) {\n  x$minhashes <- value\n  x\n}\n\n#' @param x An R object to check.\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument\nis.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x) {\n  inherits(x, \"TextReuseTextDocument\")\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument\nhas_content <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseTextDocument(x))\n  !is.null(x$content)\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_content) <- function(call, env) {\n  paste0(\"Document does not have text in its content field.\")\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument\nhas_tokens <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseTextDocument(x))\n  !is.null(x$tokens)\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_tokens) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Document does not have tokens.\"\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument\nhas_hashes <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseTextDocument(x))\n  !is.null(x$hashes)\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_hashes) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Document does not have hashes.\"\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname TextReuseTextDocument\nhas_minhashes <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseTextDocument(x))\n  !is.null(x$minhashes)\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_minhashes) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Document does not have a minhash signature.\"\n}\n\nhas_minhashes_corpus <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseCorpus(x))\n  all(vapply(minhashes(x), Negate(is.null), logical(1)))\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_minhashes_corpus) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Some documents in the corpus do not have a minhash signature.\"\n}\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/align_local.R",
    "content": "#' Local alignment of natural language texts\n#'\n#' This function takes two texts, either as strings or as\n#' \\code{TextReuseTextDocument} objects, and finds the optimal local alignment\n#' of those texts. A local alignment finds the best matching subset of the two\n#' documents. This function adapts the\n#' \\href{https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Waterman_algorithm}{Smith-Waterman\n#' algorithm}, used for genetic sequencing, for use with natural language. It\n#' compare the texts word by word (the comparison is case-insensitive) and\n#' scores them according to a set of parameters. These parameters define the\n#' score for a \\code{match}, and the penalties for a \\code{mismatch} and for\n#' opening a \\code{gap} (i.e., the first mismatch in a potential sequence). The\n#' function then reports the optimal local alignment. Only the subset of the\n#' documents that is a match is included. Insertions or deletions in the text\n#' are reported with the \\code{edit_mark} character.\n#'\n#' @param a A character vector of length one, or a\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.\n#' @param b A character vector of length one, or a\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.\n#' @param match The score to assign a matching word. Should be a positive\n#'   integer.\n#' @param mismatch The score to assign a mismatching word. Should be a negative\n#'   integer or zero.\n#' @param gap The penalty for opening a gap in the sequence. Should be a\n#'   negative integer or zero.\n#' @param edit_mark A single character used for displaying for displaying\n#'   insertions/deletions in the documents.\n#' @param preserve_punctuation Preserve punctuation in the displayed alignment.\n#'   The alignment still compares tokens after stripping punctuation.\n#' @param progress Display a progress bar and messages while computing the\n#'   alignment.\n#'\n#' @return A list with the class \\code{textreuse_alignment}. This list contains\n#'   several elements: \\itemize{ \\item \\code{a_edit} and \\code{b_edit}:\n#'   Character vectors of the sequences with edits marked. \\item \\code{score}:\n#'   The score of the optimal alignment. }\n#'\n#' @details\n#'\n#' The compute time of this function is proportional to the product of the\n#' lengths of the two documents. Thus, longer documents will take considerably\n#' more time to compute. This function has been tested with pairs of documents\n#' containing about 25 thousand words each.\n#'\n#' If the function reports that there were multiple optimal alignments, then it\n#' is likely that there is no strong match in the document.\n#'\n#' The score reported for the local alignment is dependent on both the size of\n#' the documents and on the strength of the match, as well as on the parameters\n#' for match, mismatch, and gap penalties, so the scores are not directly\n#' comparable.\n#'\n#' @references For a useful description of the algorithm, see\n#'   \\href{http://etherealbits.com/2013/04/string-alignment-dynamic-programming-dna/}{this\n#'   post}. For the application of the Smith-Waterman algorithm to natural\n#'   language, see David A. Smith, Ryan Cordell, and Elizabeth Maddock Dillon,\n#'   \"Infectious Texts: Modeling Text Reuse in Nineteenth-Century Newspapers,\"\n#'   IEEE International Conference on Big Data, 2013.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' align_local(\"The answer is blowin' in the wind.\",\n#'             \"As the Bob Dylan song says, the answer is blowing in the wind.\")\n#'\n#' # Example of matching documents from a corpus\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, progress = FALSE)\n#' alignment <- align_local(corpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]], corpus[[\"ny1850-match\"]])\n#' str(alignment)\n#'\n#' @export\nalign_local <- function(a, b, match = 2L, mismatch = -1L, gap = -1L,\n                        edit_mark = \"#\", preserve_punctuation = FALSE,\n                        progress = interactive()) {\n assert_that(identical(class(a), class(b)))\n UseMethod(\"align_local\", a)\n}\n\n#' @export\nalign_local.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b, match = 2L, mismatch = -1L,\n                                              gap = -1L, edit_mark = \"#\",\n                                              preserve_punctuation = FALSE,\n                                              progress = interactive()) {\n  align_local(content(a), content(b), match = match, mismatch = mismatch,\n              gap = gap, edit_mark = edit_mark,\n              preserve_punctuation = preserve_punctuation)\n}\n\n#' @export\nalign_local.default <- function(a, b, match = 2L, mismatch = -1L, gap = -1L,\n                                edit_mark = \"#\", preserve_punctuation = FALSE,\n                                progress = interactive()) {\n\n  assert_that(is.string(a),\n              is.string(b),\n              is_integer_like(match),\n              is_integer_like(mismatch),\n              is_integer_like(gap),\n              is.string(edit_mark),\n              is.flag(preserve_punctuation))\n\n  if (match <= 0 || mismatch > 0 || gap > 0 || !(str_length(edit_mark) == 1)) {\n    stop(\"The scoring parameters should have the following characteristics:\\n\",\n         \"    - `match` should be a positive integer\\n\",\n         \"    - `mismatch` should be a negative integer or zero\\n\",\n         \"    - `gap` should be a negative integer or zero\\n\",\n         \"    - `edit_mark` should be a single character\\n\")\n  }\n\n  # Keep everything as integers because IntegerMatrix saves memory\n  match    <- as.integer(match)\n  mismatch <- as.integer(mismatch)\n  gap      <- as.integer(gap)\n\n  # Prepare the character vectors. Tokenize to words to compare word by word.\n  # Use all lower case for the comparison, but use original capitalization in\n  # the output.\n  a_orig <- align_tokens(a, preserve_punctuation = preserve_punctuation)\n  b_orig <- align_tokens(b, preserve_punctuation = preserve_punctuation)\n  a <- normalize_alignment_tokens(a_orig)\n  b <- normalize_alignment_tokens(b_orig)\n\n  # Only show a progress bar for long computations\n  n_rows <- length(b) + 1\n  n_cols <- length(a) + 1\n  if (n_rows * n_cols < 1e7) progress <- FALSE\n\n  # Create the integer matrix\n  if (progress) {\n    message(\"Preparing a matrix with \",\n            prettyNum(n_rows * n_cols, big.mark = \",\"),\n            \" elements.\")\n  }\n  m <- matrix(0L, n_rows, n_cols)\n\n  # Calculate the matrix of possible paths\n  if (progress) message(\"Computing the optimal local alignment.\")\n  m <- sw_matrix(m, a, b, match, mismatch, gap, progress)\n\n  # Find the starting place in the matrix\n  alignment_score <- max(m)\n  if (alignment_score == 0) {\n    alignment <- list(a_edits = \"\", b_edits = \"\", score = alignment_score)\n    class(alignment) <- c(\"textreuse_alignment\", \"list\")\n    return(alignment)\n  }\n\n  max_match <- which(m == alignment_score, arr.ind = TRUE, useNames = FALSE)\n\n  if (nrow(max_match) > 1) {\n    warning(\"Multiple optimal local alignments found; selecting only one of them.\",\n            call. = FALSE)\n  }\n\n  if (progress) message(\"Extracting the local alignment.\")\n\n  # Create output vectors which are as long as conceivably necessary\n  a_out <- vector(mode = \"character\", length = max(max_match))\n  b_out <- vector(mode = \"character\", length = max(max_match))\n  a_out[] <- NA_character_\n  b_out[] <- NA_character_\n\n  # Initialize counters for the matrix and the output vector\n  row_i <- max_match[1, 1]\n  col_i <- max_match[1, 2]\n  out_i <- 1L\n\n  # Place our first known values in the output vectors\n  b_out[out_i] <- b_orig[row_i - 1]\n  a_out[out_i] <- a_orig[col_i - 1]\n  out_i = out_i + 1L # Advance the out vector position\n\n  # Begin moving up, left, or diagonally within the matrix till we hit a zero\n  while (m[row_i - 1, col_i - 1] != 0) {\n\n    # Values of the current cell, the cells up, left, diagonal, and the max\n    up       <- m[row_i - 1, col_i]\n    left     <- m[row_i, col_i - 1]\n    diagn    <- m[row_i - 1, col_i - 1]\n    max_cell <- max(up, left, diagn)\n\n    # Move in the direction of the maximum cell. If there are ties, choose up\n    # first, then left, then diagonal. Privilege up and left because they\n    # preserve edits.\n    #\n    # In each case add the current words to the out vectors. For moves up and\n    # and left there will be an insertion/deletion, so add a symbol like ####\n    # that is the same number of characters as the word in the other vector.\n    #\n    # Note that the index of the matrix is offset by one from character vectors\n    # a and b, so we use the row and column indices - 1. The column corresponds\n    # to `a` and the rows correspond to `b`.\n    if (up == max_cell) {\n      row_i <- row_i - 1\n      bword <- b_orig[row_i - 1]\n      b_out[out_i] <- bword\n      a_out[out_i] <- mark_chars(bword, edit_mark)\n    } else if (left == max_cell) {\n      col_i <- col_i - 1\n      aword <- a_orig[col_i - 1]\n      b_out[out_i] <- mark_chars(aword, edit_mark)\n      a_out[out_i] <- aword\n    } else if (diagn == max_cell) {\n      row_i <- row_i - 1\n      col_i <- col_i - 1\n      bword <-  b_orig[row_i - 1]\n      aword <- a_orig[col_i - 1]\n      # Diagonals are a special case, because instead of an insertion or a\n      # deletion we might have a substitution of words. If that is the case,\n      # then treat it like a double insertion and deletion.\n      if (a[col_i - 1] == b[row_i - 1]) {\n        b_out[out_i] <- bword\n        a_out[out_i] <- aword\n      } else {\n        b_out[out_i] <- bword\n        a_out[out_i] <- mark_chars(bword, edit_mark)\n        out_i <- out_i + 1\n        b_out[out_i] <- mark_chars(aword, edit_mark)\n        a_out[out_i] <- aword\n      }\n    }\n\n    # Move forward one position in the out vectors, no matter which direction\n    # we moved\n    out_i <- out_i + 1\n\n  }\n\n  # Clean up the outputs\n  b_out <- str_c(rev(b_out[!is.na(b_out)]), collapse = \" \")\n  a_out <- str_c(rev(a_out[!is.na(a_out)]), collapse = \" \")\n\n  # Create the alignment object\n  alignment <- list(a_edits = a_out, b_edits = b_out, score = alignment_score)\n  class(alignment) <- c(\"textreuse_alignment\", \"list\")\n\n  alignment\n\n}\n\nalign_tokens <- function(x, preserve_punctuation) {\n  if (!preserve_punctuation) return(tokenize_words(x, lowercase = FALSE))\n  tokens <- str_split(str_squish(x), \"\\\\s+\")[[1]]\n  tokens[tokens != \"\"]\n}\n\nnormalize_alignment_tokens <- function(x) {\n  str_to_lower(str_replace_all(x, \"[[:punct:]]\", \"\"))\n}\n\n#' @export\nprint.textreuse_alignment <- function(x, ...) {\n  cat(\"TextReuse alignment\\n\")\n  cat(\"Alignment score:\", x$score, \"\\n\")\n  cat(\"Document A:\\n\")\n  cat(str_wrap(x$a_edits, width = 72))\n  cat(\"\\n\\nDocument B:\\n\")\n  cat(str_wrap(x$b_edits, width = 72))\n  cat(\"\\n\\n\")\n  invisible(x)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/conversion-functions.R",
    "content": "#' Convert candidates data frames to other formats\n#'\n#' These functions convert a \\code{textreuse_candidates} object to dense or\n#' sparse matrices.\n#'\n#' @param x An object of class \\code{\\link[=lsh_compare]{textreuse_candidates}}.\n#' @param ... Additional arguments.\n#'\n#' @return A similarity matrix with row and column names containing document IDs.\n#'\n#' @export\n#' @method as.matrix textreuse_candidates\nas.matrix.textreuse_candidates <- function(x, ...) {\n\n  docs <- candidate_doc_ids(x)\n  n <- length(docs)\n  m <- matrix(0, n, n)\n  rownames(m) <- docs\n  colnames(m) <- docs\n  diag(m) <- 1.0\n\n  for (r in seq_len(nrow(x))) {\n    a <- x$a[r]\n    b <- x$b[r]\n    score <- x$score[r]\n    m[a, b] <- score\n    m[b, a] <- score\n  }\n\n  m\n\n}\n\n#' @rdname as.matrix.textreuse_candidates\n#' @export\nas_sparse_matrix <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is_candidates_df(x))\n\n  docs <- candidate_doc_ids(x)\n  n <- length(docs)\n  doc_ids <- stats::setNames(seq_along(docs), docs)\n\n  rows <- seq_len(n)\n  cols <- seq_len(n)\n  values <- rep(1.0, n)\n\n  if (nrow(x) > 0) {\n    a <- unname(doc_ids[x$a])\n    b <- unname(doc_ids[x$b])\n    rows <- c(rows, a, b)\n    cols <- c(cols, b, a)\n    values <- c(values, x$score, x$score)\n  }\n\n  Matrix::sparseMatrix(i = rows, j = cols, x = values, dims = c(n, n),\n                       use.last.ij = TRUE,\n                       dimnames = list(docs, docs))\n}\n\ncandidate_doc_ids <- function(x) {\n  all_doc_ids <- attr(x, \"all-doc-ids\")\n  if (is.null(all_doc_ids)) {\n    all_doc_ids <- c(x$a, x$b)\n  }\n  sort(unique(all_doc_ids))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/filenames.R",
    "content": "#' Filenames from paths\n#'\n#' This function takes a character vector of paths and returns just the file\n#' name, by default without the extension. A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} uses\n#' the paths to the files in the corpus as the names of the list. This function\n#' is intended to turn those paths into more manageable identifiers.\n#'\n#' @param paths A character vector of paths.\n#' @param extension Should the file extension be preserved?\n#' @seealso \\code{\\link{basename}}\n#' @examples\n#' paths <- c(\"corpus/one.txt\", \"corpus/two.md\", \"corpus/three.text\")\n#' filenames(paths)\n#' filenames(paths, extension = TRUE)\n#' @export\nfilenames <- function(paths, extension = FALSE) {\n  assert_that(is.character(paths))\n  f <- basename(paths)\n  if (extension)\n    return(f)\n  else\n    str_replace(f, \"\\\\.[:alpha:]{1,}$\", \"\")\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh.R",
    "content": "#'Locality sensitive hashing for minhash\n#'\n#'Locality sensitive hashing (LSH) discovers potential matches among a corpus of\n#'documents quickly, so that only likely pairs can be compared.\n#'\n#'@details Locality sensitive hashing is a technique for detecting document\n#'  similarity that does not require pairwise comparisons. When comparing pairs\n#'  of documents, the number of pairs grows rapidly, so that only the smallest\n#'  corpora can be compared pairwise in a reasonable amount of computation time.\n#'  Locality sensitive hashing, on the other hand, takes a document which has\n#'  been tokenized and hashed using a minhash algorithm. (See\n#'  \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.) Each set of minhash signatures is then\n#'  broken into bands comprised of a certain number of rows. (For example, 200\n#'  minhash signatures might be broken down into 20 bands each containing 10\n#'  rows.) Each band is then hashed to a bucket. Documents with identical rows\n#'  in a band will be hashed to the same bucket. The likelihood that a document\n#'  will be marked as a potential duplicate is proportional to the number of\n#'  bands and inversely proportional to the number of rows in each band.\n#'\n#'  This function returns a data frame with the additional class\n#'  \\code{lsh_buckets}. The LSH technique only requires that the signatures for\n#'  each document be calculated once. So it is possible, as long as one uses the\n#'  same minhash function and the same number of bands, to combine the outputs\n#'  from this function at different times. The output can thus be treated as a\n#'  kind of cache of LSH signatures.\n#'\n#'  To extract pairs of documents from the output of this function, see\n#'  \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.\n#'\n#'@param x A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} or\n#'  \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.\n#'@param bands The number of bands to use for locality sensitive hashing. The\n#'  number of hashes in the documents in the corpus must be evenly divisible by\n#'  the number of bands. See \\code{\\link{lsh_threshold}} and\n#'  \\code{\\link{lsh_probability}} for guidance in selecting the number of bands\n#'  and hashes.\n#'@param progress Display a progress bar while comparing documents.\n#'\n#'@return A data frame (with the additional class \\code{lsh_buckets}),\n#'  containing a column with the document IDs and a column with their LSH\n#'  signatures, or buckets.\n#'\n#'@references Jure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n#'  \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch.\n#'  3. See also Matthew Casperson,\n#'  \"\\href{http://matthewcasperson.blogspot.com/2013/11/minhash-for-dummies.html}{Minhash\n#'   for Dummies}\" (November 14, 2013).\n#'\n#'@seealso \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_add}},\n#'  \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_query}},\n#'  \\code{\\link{lsh_probability}},\n#'  \\code{\\link{lsh_threshold}}\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n#'                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n#'                           minhash_func = minhash)\n#' buckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\n#' buckets\n#'@export\nlsh <- function(x, bands, progress = interactive()) {\n  UseMethod(\"lsh\", x)\n}\n\n#' Add documents to a LSH cache\n#'\n#' This function adds buckets for one or more new documents to an existing\n#' \\code{lsh_buckets} object. Use the same \\code{bands} value and minhash\n#' function that were used to create the original buckets.\n#'\n#' @param buckets An \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}.\n#' @param x A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} or\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} with minhashes.\n#' @inheritParams lsh\n#' @return An updated \\code{lsh_buckets} object.\n#' @seealso \\code{\\link{lsh}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_query}},\n#'   \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}\n#' @export\nlsh_add <- function(buckets, x, bands, progress = interactive()) {\n  assert_that(is_lsh_buckets(buckets))\n\n  new_buckets <- lsh(x, bands = bands, progress = progress)\n  new_doc_ids <- unique(new_buckets$doc)\n\n  buckets <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::filter(!.data$doc %in% new_doc_ids) %>%\n    dplyr::bind_rows(new_buckets) %>%\n    dplyr::arrange(.data$doc)\n\n  class(buckets) <- c(\"lsh_buckets\", setdiff(class(buckets), \"lsh_buckets\"))\n\n  buckets\n}\n\n#' @export\nlsh.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x, bands, progress = interactive()) {\n\n  assert_that(is.count(bands),\n              has_minhashes_corpus(x))\n\n  h <- length(minhashes(x[[1]])) # number of hashes\n  d <- length(x) # number of documents\n  r <- h / bands # number of rows\n\n  assert_that(check_banding(h, bands))\n\n  # To assign rows in data frame to bands\n  b_assign <-  tibble::tibble(band =\n      rep(vapply(1:bands, function(i) rep(i, r), integer(r)), d)\n    )\n\n  all_minhashes <- minhashes(x)\n  col_names <- names(all_minhashes)\n\n  buckets <- all_minhashes %>%\n    tibble::as_tibble() %>%\n    tidyr::gather(\"doc\", \"hash\", col_names) %>%\n    dplyr::mutate(doc = as.character(.data$doc)) %>%\n    dplyr::bind_cols(b_assign) %>%\n    dplyr::group_by(.data$doc, .data$band)\n\n    rm(b_assign)\n\n    if (progress) {\n      message(\"Calculating LSH buckets\")\n      pb <- txtProgressBar(min = 0, max = d * bands, style = 3)\n    }\n\n  # include the band in the signature hash to avoid false matches\n  buckets <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::summarize(buckets = digest_progress(list(hash, unique(band)),\n                                                 pb, progress))\n\n  if (progress) close(pb)\n\n  buckets <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::select(-.data$band) %>%\n    dplyr::ungroup()\n\n  class(buckets) <- c(\"lsh_buckets\", class(buckets))\n\n  buckets\n\n}\n\n# A wrapper around digest to be able to use the progress bar\ndigest_progress <- function(x, pb, progress) {\n  bucket <- digest::digest(x)\n  if (progress) setTxtProgressBar(pb, getTxtProgressBar(pb) + 1)\n  bucket\n}\n\n#' @export\nlsh.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, bands, progress) {\n\n  assert_that(is.count(bands),\n              has_minhashes(x))\n\n  all_minhashes <- minhashes(x)\n  h <- length(all_minhashes) # number of hashes\n  r <- h / bands # number of rows\n\n  assert_that(check_banding(h, bands))\n\n  # To assign rows in data frame to bands\n  b_assign <-  tibble::tibble(band =\n      rep(vapply(1:bands, function(i) rep(i, r), integer(r)), 1)\n    )\n\n\n  buckets <- tibble::tibble(doc = x$meta$id, hash = all_minhashes) %>%\n    dplyr::bind_cols(b_assign) %>%\n    dplyr::group_by(.data$doc, .data$band) %>%\n    dplyr::summarize(buckets = digest::digest(list(hash, unique(band)))) %>%\n    dplyr::select(-.data$band) %>%\n    dplyr::ungroup()\n\n  class(buckets) <- c(\"lsh_buckets\", class(buckets))\n\n  buckets\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh_candidates.R",
    "content": "#' Candidate pairs from LSH comparisons\n#'\n#' Given a data frame of LSH buckets returned from \\code{\\link{lsh}}, this\n#' function returns the potential candidates.\n#'\n#' @param buckets A data frame returned from \\code{\\link{lsh}}.\n#'\n#' @return A data frame of candidate pairs.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n#'                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n#'                           minhash_func = minhash)\n#' buckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\n#' lsh_candidates(buckets)\n#'\n#' @export\nlsh_candidates <- function(buckets) {\n  assert_that(is_lsh_buckets(buckets))\n\n  candidates <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::left_join(buckets, by = \"buckets\") %>%\n    dplyr::filter(.data$doc.x != .data$doc.y) %>%\n    dplyr::distinct(doc.x, doc.y) %>%\n    dplyr::arrange(.data$doc.x, .data$doc.y) %>%\n    dplyr::mutate(dn = pmin(.data$doc.x, .data$doc.y),\n                  up = pmax(.data$doc.x, .data$doc.y)) %>%\n    dplyr::distinct(.data$up, .data$dn) %>%\n    dplyr::select(a = dn, b = up) %>%\n    dplyr::arrange(.data$a, .data$b) %>%\n    dplyr::mutate(score = NA_real_)\n\n  class(candidates) <- c(\"textreuse_candidates\", class(candidates))\n\n  candidates\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh_compare.R",
    "content": "#' Compare candidates identified by LSH\n#'\n#' The \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} only identifies potential matches, but\n#' cannot estimate the actual similarity of the documents. This function takes a\n#' data frame returned by \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} and applies a comparison\n#' function to each of the documents in a corpus, thereby calculating the\n#' document similarity score. Note that since your corpus will have minhash\n#' signatures rather than hashes for the tokens itself, you will probably wish\n#' to use \\code{\\link{tokenize}} to calculate new hashes. This can be done for\n#' just the potentially similar documents. See the package vignettes for\n#' details.\n#'\n#' @param candidates A data frame returned by \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.\n#' @param corpus The same \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} corpus which was used to generate the candidates.\n#' @param f A comparison function such as \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}.\n#' @param progress Display a progress bar while comparing documents. Progress\n#'   bars are disabled when using parallel processing.\n#' @return A data frame with values calculated for \\code{score}.\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n#'                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n#'                           minhash_func = minhash)\n#' buckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\n#' candidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\n#' lsh_compare(candidates, corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n#' @export\nlsh_compare <- function(candidates, corpus, f, progress = interactive()) {\n  assert_that(is_candidates_df(candidates),\n              is.function(f),\n              is.TextReuseCorpus(corpus))\n\n  rows_to_score <- which(is.na(candidates$score))\n  num_rows <- length(rows_to_score)\n  use_parallel <- using_parallel()\n\n  if (num_rows == 0) {\n    attr(candidates, \"all-doc-ids\") <- names(corpus)\n    return(candidates)\n  }\n\n  if (progress) {\n    message(\"Making \", prettyNum(num_rows, big.mark = \",\"),\n            \" comparisons.\")\n    if (!use_parallel) {\n      pb <- txtProgressBar(min = 0, max = num_rows, style = 3)\n    }\n  }\n\n  apply_fun <- get_apply_function()\n  scores <- apply_fun(seq_along(rows_to_score), function(j) {\n    i <- rows_to_score[j]\n    a <- candidates$a[i]\n    b <- candidates$b[i]\n    score <- f(corpus[[a]], corpus[[b]])\n    if (progress && !use_parallel) setTxtProgressBar(pb, j)\n    score\n  })\n\n  candidates$score[rows_to_score] <- unlist(scores, use.names = FALSE)\n\n  if (progress && !use_parallel) close(pb)\n\n  attr(candidates, \"all-doc-ids\") <- names(corpus)\n\n  candidates\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh_probability.R",
    "content": "#' Probability that a candidate pair will be detected with LSH\n#'\n#' Functions to help choose the correct parameters for the \\code{\\link{lsh}} and\n#' \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}} functions. Use \\code{lsh_threshold} to\n#' determine the minimum Jaccard similarity for two documents for them to likely\n#' be considered a match. Use \\code{lsh_probability} to determine the\n#' probability that a pair of documents with a known Jaccard similarity will be\n#' detected.\n#'\n#' @param h The number of minhash signatures.\n#' @param b The number of LSH bands.\n#' @param s The Jaccard similarity.\n#' @details Locality sensitive hashing returns a list of possible matches for\n#' similar documents. How likely is it that a pair of documents will be detected\n#' as a possible match? If \\code{h} is the number of minhash signatures,\n#' \\code{b} is the number of bands in the LSH function (implying then that the\n#' number of rows \\code{r = h / b}), and \\code{s} is the actual Jaccard\n#' similarity of the two documents, then the probability \\code{p} that the two\n#' documents will be marked as a candidate pair is given by this equation.\n#'\n#' \\deqn{p = 1 - (1 - s^{r})^{b}}\n#'\n#' According to \\href{http://infolab.stanford.edu/~ullman/mmds/book.pdf}{MMDS},\n#' that equation approximates an S-curve. This implies that there is a threshold\n#' (\\code{t}) for \\code{s} approximated by this equation.\n#'\n#' \\deqn{t = \\frac{1}{b}^{\\frac{1}{r}}}\n#'\n#' @references Jure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n#'  \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch. 3.\n#' @examples\n#' # Threshold for default values\n#' lsh_threshold(h = 200, b = 40)\n#'\n#' # Probability for varying values of s\n#' lsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .25)\n#' lsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .50)\n#' lsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .75)\n#' @export\nlsh_probability <- function(h, b, s) {\n  assert_that(is.count(h),\n              is.count(b),\n              check_banding(h, b),\n              is.number(s))\n  1 - (1 - s ^ (h / b)) ^ b\n}\n\n#' @rdname lsh_probability\n#' @export\nlsh_threshold <- function(h, b) {\n  assert_that(is.count(h),\n              is.count(b),\n              check_banding(h, b))\n  (1 / b ) ^ (1 / (h / b))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh_query.R",
    "content": "#' Query a LSH cache for matches to a single document\n#'\n#' This function retrieves the matches for a single document from an \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}. See \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} to retrieve all pairs of matches.\n#'\n#' @param buckets An \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}.\n#' @param id The document ID to find matches for.\n#'\n#' @return An \\code{lsh_candidates} data frame with matches to the document specified.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n#'                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n#'                           minhash_func = minhash)\n#' buckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\n#' lsh_query(buckets, \"ny1850-match\")\n#'\n#' @seealso \\code{\\link{lsh}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}\n#' @export\nlsh_query <- function(buckets, id) {\n  assert_that(is_lsh_buckets(buckets),\n              is.string(id))\n\n  signatures <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::filter(.data$doc == id) %>%\n    `$`(\"buckets\")\n\n  docs <- buckets %>%\n    dplyr::filter(.data$buckets %in% signatures) %>%\n    `$`(\"doc\")\n\n  res <- tibble::tibble(a = id, b = docs, score = NA_real_) %>%\n\n    dplyr::filter(.data$a != .data$b) %>%\n    dplyr::distinct(.data$a, .data$b)\n\n  class(res) <- c(\"textreuse_candidates\", class(res))\n\n  res\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/lsh_subset.R",
    "content": "#' List of all candidates in a corpus\n#'\n#' @param candidates A data frame of candidate pairs from\n#'   \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.\n#' @return A character vector of document IDs from the candidate pairs, to be\n#'   used to subset the \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n#'                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n#'                           minhash_func = minhash)\n#' buckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\n#' candidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\n#' lsh_subset(candidates)\n#' corpus[lsh_subset(candidates)]\n#' @export\nlsh_subset <- function(candidates) {\n  assert_that(is_candidates_df(candidates))\n  sort(unique(c(candidates$a, candidates$b)))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/minhash.R",
    "content": "#' Generate a minhash function\n#'\n#' A minhash value is calculated by hashing the strings in a character vector to\n#' integers and then selecting the minimum value. Repeated minhash values are\n#' generated by using different hash functions: these different hash functions\n#' are created by using performing a bitwise \\code{XOR} operation\n#' (\\code{\\link{bitwXor}}) with a vector of random integers. Since it is vital\n#' that the same random integers be used for each document, this function\n#' generates another function which will always use the same integers. The\n#' returned function is intended to be passed to the \\code{hash_func} parameter\n#' of \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.\n#'\n#' @param n The number of minhashes that the returned function should generate.\n#' @param seed An option parameter to set the seed used in generating the random\n#'   numbers to ensure that the same minhash function is used on repeated\n#'   applications.\n#' @return A function which will take a character vector and return \\code{n}\n#'   minhashes.\n#' @references Jure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n#'   \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch.\n#'   3. See also Matthew Casperson,\n#'   \"\\href{http://matthewcasperson.blogspot.com/2013/11/minhash-for-dummies.html}{Minhash\n#'    for Dummies}\" (November 14, 2013).\n#' @seealso \\code{\\link{lsh}}\n#' @examples\n#' set.seed(253)\n#' minhash <- minhash_generator(10)\n#'\n#' # Example with a TextReuseTextDocument\n#' file <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, hash_func = minhash,\n#'                              keep_tokens = TRUE)\n#' hashes(doc)\n#'\n#' # Example with a character vector\n#' is.character(tokens(doc))\n#' minhash(tokens(doc))\n#' @export\nminhash_generator <- function(n = 200, seed = NULL) {\n  assert_that(is.count(n))\n  if (!is.null(seed)) set.seed(seed)\n  r <- random_ints(n)\n  f <- function(x) {\n    assert_that(is.character(x))\n    h <- hash_string(x)\n    vapply(r, function(i) { min(bitwXor(h, i)) },\n           integer(1), USE.NAMES = FALSE)\n  }\n  f\n}\n\n# Generate random integers for minhashing\n#\n# It is crucial that you use the same random integers for every document in the\n# corpus. The random integers generated by this function are intended to be\n# passed to \\code{\\link{minhash}}.\n# @param n The number of random integers to generate.\n# @return A vector of integers\n# @seealso \\code{\\link{minhash}}\n# @examples\n# random_ints(3)\nrandom_ints <- function(n) {\n  as.integer(stats::runif(n, -2147483648, 2147483647))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/pairwise_candidates.R",
    "content": "#' Candidate pairs from pairwise comparisons\n#'\n#' Converts a comparison matrix generated by \\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}} into a\n#' data frame of candidates for matches.\n#'\n#' @param m A matrix from \\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}}.\n#' @param directional Should be set to the same value as in\n#'   \\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}}.\n#' @return A data frame containing all the non-\\code{NA} values from \\code{m}.\n#'   Columns \\code{a} and \\code{b} are the IDs from the original corpus as\n#'   passed to the comparison function. Column \\code{score} is the score\n#'   returned by the comparison function.\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\n#'\n#' m1 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\n#' pairwise_candidates(m1, directional = TRUE)\n#'\n#' m2 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n#' pairwise_candidates(m2)\n#' @export\npairwise_candidates <- function(m, directional = FALSE) {\n  assert_that(is.matrix(m))\n  matches <- which(!is.na(m))\n  indexes <- arrayInd(matches, dim(m))\n  score <- m[matches]\n  a <- rownames(m)[indexes[ , 1]]\n  b <- colnames(m)[indexes[ , 2]]\n  df <- data.frame(a = a, b = b, score = score, stringsAsFactors = FALSE)\n  if (!directional) df <- sort_df_by_rows(df)\n  df <- sort_df_by_columns(df)\n  class(df) <- c(\"textreuse_candidates\", \"tbl_df\", \"tbl\", \"data.frame\")\n  df\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/pairwise_compare.R",
    "content": "#' Pairwise comparisons among documents in a corpus\n#'\n#' Given a \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} containing documents of class\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, this function applies a comparison\n#' function to every pairing of documents, and returns a matrix with the\n#' comparison scores.\n#'\n#' @param corpus A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#' @param f The function to apply to \\code{x} and \\code{y}.\n#' @param ... Additional arguments passed to \\code{f}.\n#' @param directional Some comparison functions are commutative, so that\n#'   \\code{f(a, b) == f(b, a)} (e.g., \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}). Other\n#'   functions are directional, so that \\code{f(a, b)} measures \\code{a}'s\n#'   borrowing from \\code{b}, which may not be the same as \\code{f(b, a)} (e.g.,\n#'   \\code{\\link{ratio_of_matches}}). If \\code{directional} is \\code{FALSE},\n#'   then only the minimum number of comparisons will be made, i.e., the upper\n#'   triangle of the matrix. If \\code{directional} is \\code{TRUE}, then both\n#'   directional comparisons will be measured. In no case, however, will\n#'   documents be compared to themselves, i.e., the diagonal of the matrix.\n#' @param progress Display a progress bar while comparing documents.\n#'\n#' @return A square matrix with dimensions equal to the length of the corpus,\n#'   and row and column names set by the names of the documents in the corpus. A\n#'   value of \\code{NA} in the matrix indicates that a comparison was not made.\n#'   In cases of directional comparisons, then the comparison reported is\n#'   \\code{f(row, column)}.\n#'\n#' @seealso See these document comparison functions,\n#'   \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}, \\code{\\link{ratio_of_matches}}.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\n#' names(corpus) <- filenames(names(corpus))\n#'\n#' # A non-directional comparison\n#' pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n#'\n#' # A directional comparison\n#' pairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\n#' @export\npairwise_compare <- function(corpus, f, ..., directional = FALSE,\n                        progress = interactive()) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseCorpus(corpus),\n              is.function(f))\n\n  len <- length(corpus)\n  ids <- names(corpus)\n\n  m <- matrix(0, len, len, dimnames = list(ids, ids))\n\n  if (!directional)\n    m[lower.tri(m, diag = TRUE)] <- NA\n  else\n    diag(m) <- NA\n\n\n  if (progress) {\n    num_pairs <- sum(!is.na(m))\n    message(\"Making \", prettyNum(num_pairs, big.mark = \",\"), \" comparisons.\")\n    pb <- txtProgressBar(min = 0, max = num_pairs, style = 3)\n  }\n\n  for (i in seq_along(m)) {\n    if (is.na(m[i])) next\n    indexes <- arrayInd(i, dim(m))\n    m[indexes] <- f(corpus[[indexes[1]]], corpus[[indexes[2]]])\n    if (progress) setTxtProgressBar(pb, getTxtProgressBar(pb) + 1)\n  }\n\n  if (progress) close(pb)\n\n  m\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/parallel.R",
    "content": "# Check if the option `mc.cores` has been set. If it has, return `mclapply`\n# instead of `lapply`. But in no circumstances use `mclapply` on Windows.\nusing_parallel <- function() {\n  cores_set <- !is.null(getOption(\"mc.cores\"))\n  windows <- .Platform$OS.type == \"windows\"\n  cores_set && !windows\n}\n\nget_apply_function <- function() {\n if (using_parallel())\n   return(parallel::mclapply)\n else\n   return(lapply)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/rehash.R",
    "content": "#' Recompute the hashes for a document or corpus\n#'\n#' Given a \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or a\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}, this function recomputes either the hashes or\n#' the minhashes with the function specified. This implies that you have\n#' retained the tokens with the \\code{keep_tokens = TRUE} parameter.\n#'\n#' @param x A \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#' @param func A function to either hash the tokens or to generate the minhash\n#'   signature. See \\code{\\link{hash_string}}, \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.\n#' @param type Recompute the \\code{hashes} or \\code{minhashes}?\n#'\n#' @return The modified \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' minhash1 <- minhash_generator(seed = 1)\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, minhash_func = minhash1, keep_tokens = TRUE)\n#' head(minhashes(corpus[[1]]))\n#' minhash2 <- minhash_generator(seed = 2)\n#' corpus <- rehash(corpus, minhash2, type = \"minhashes\")\n#' head(minhashes(corpus[[2]]))\n#'\n#' @export\nrehash <- function(x, func, type = c(\"hashes\", \"minhashes\")) {\n  UseMethod(\"rehash\", x)\n}\n\n#' @export\nrehash.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, func,\n                                         type = c(\"hashes\", \"minhashes\")) {\n  assert_that(has_tokens(x),\n              is.function(func))\n  type <- match.arg(type)\n\n  if (type == \"hashes\") {\n    x$hashes <- func(x$tokens)\n    x$meta$hash_func <- as.character(substitute(func))\n  } else if (type == \"minhashes\") {\n    x$minhashes <- func(x$tokens)\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- as.character(substitute(func))\n  }\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\nrehash.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x, func,  type = c(\"hashes\", \"minhashes\")) {\n  assert_that(is.function(func))\n  type <- match.arg(type)\n  apply_func <- get_apply_function()\n  x$documents <- apply_func(x$documents, rehash, func, type)\n  if (type == \"hashes\")\n    x$meta$hash_func <- as.character(substitute(func))\n  else if (type == \"minhashes\")\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- as.character(substitute(func))\n  x\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/similarity.R",
    "content": "#' Measure similarity/dissimilarity in documents\n#'\n#' A set of functions which take two sets or bag of words and measure their\n#' similarity or dissimilarity.\n#'\n#' @details The functions \\code{jaccard_similarity} and\n#'   \\code{jaccard_dissimilarity} provide the Jaccard measures of similarity or\n#'   dissimilarity for two sets. The coefficients will be numbers between\n#'   \\code{0} and \\code{1}. For the similarity coefficient, the higher the\n#'   number the more similar the two sets are. When applied to two documents of\n#'   class \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, the hashes in those documents\n#'   are compared. But this function can be passed objects of any class accepted\n#'   by the set functions in base R. So it is possible, for instance, to pass\n#'   this function two character vectors comprised of word, line, sentence, or\n#'   paragraph tokens, or those character vectors hashed as integers.\n#'\n#'   The Jaccard similarity coeffecient is defined as follows:\n#'\n#'   \\deqn{J(A, B) = \\frac{ | A \\cap B | }{ | A \\cup B | }}{ length(intersect(a,\n#'   b)) / length(union(a, b))}\n#'\n#'   The Jaccard dissimilarity is simply\n#'\n#'   \\deqn{1 - J(A, B)}\n#'\n#'   The function \\code{jaccard_bag_similarity} treats \\code{a} and \\code{b} as\n#'   bags rather than sets, so that the result is a fraction where the numerator\n#'   is the sum of each matching element counted the minimum number of times it\n#'   appears in each bag, and the denominator is the sum of the lengths of both\n#'   bags. The maximum value for the Jaccard bag similarity is \\code{0.5}.\n#'\n#'   The function \\code{ratio_of_matches} finds the ratio between the number of\n#'   items in \\code{b} that are also in \\code{a} and the total number of items\n#'   in \\code{b}. Note that this similarity measure is directional: it measures\n#'   how much \\code{b} borrows from \\code{a}, but says nothing about how much of\n#'   \\code{a} borrows from \\code{b}.\n#'\n#'   The function \\code{count_matches} returns the numerator used by\n#'   \\code{ratio_of_matches}: the number of items in \\code{b} also found in\n#'   \\code{a}. The function \\code{matching_tokens} returns those matching items\n#'   from \\code{b}, preserving their order and duplicates.\n#'\n#' @param a The first set (or bag) to be compared. The origin bag for\n#'   directional comparisons.\n#' @param b The second set (or bag) to be compared. The destination bag for\n#'   directional comparisons.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' jaccard_similarity(1:6, 3:10)\n#' jaccard_dissimilarity(1:6, 3:10)\n#'\n#' a <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"a\", \"b\")\n#' b <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"b\", \"b\", \"c\")\n#' jaccard_similarity(a, b)\n#' jaccard_bag_similarity(a, b)\n#' ratio_of_matches(a, b)\n#' ratio_of_matches(b, a)\n#' count_matches(a, b)\n#' matching_tokens(a, b)\n#'\n#' ny         <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' ca_match   <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' ca_nomatch <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-nomatch.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#'\n#' ny         <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ny,\n#'                                     meta = list(id = \"ny\"))\n#' ca_match   <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ca_match,\n#'                                     meta = list(id = \"ca_match\"))\n#' ca_nomatch <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ca_nomatch,\n#'                                     meta = list(id = \"ca_nomatch\"))\n#'\n#' # These two should have higher similarity scores\n#' jaccard_similarity(ny, ca_match)\n#' ratio_of_matches(ny, ca_match)\n#'\n#' # These two should have lower similarity scores\n#' jaccard_similarity(ny, ca_nomatch)\n#' ratio_of_matches(ny, ca_nomatch)\n#'\n#' @references Jure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n#'   \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011).\n#' @name similarity-functions\nNULL\n\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\n#' @export\njaccard_similarity <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"jaccard_similarity\")\n\n#' @export\njaccard_similarity.default <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  length(intersect(a, b)) / length(union(a, b))\n}\n\n#' @export\njaccard_similarity.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  jaccard_similarity(a$hashes, b$hashes)\n}\n\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\n#' @export\njaccard_dissimilarity <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"jaccard_dissimilarity\")\n\n#' @export\njaccard_dissimilarity.default <- function(a, b) {\n  1 - jaccard_similarity(a, b)\n}\n\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\n#' @export\njaccard_bag_similarity <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"jaccard_bag_similarity\")\n\n#' @export\njaccard_bag_similarity.default <- function(a, b) {\n  matches <- intersect(a, b)\n  counts <- vapply(matches, function(x) min(sum(x == a), sum(x == b)),\n                   integer(1), USE.NAMES = FALSE)\n  denominator <- length(a) + length(b)\n  sum(counts) / denominator\n}\n\n#' @export\njaccard_bag_similarity.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  jaccard_bag_similarity(a$hashes, b$hashes)\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\nratio_of_matches <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"ratio_of_matches\")\n\n#' @export\nratio_of_matches.default <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  sum(b %in% a) / length(b)\n}\n\n#' @export\nratio_of_matches.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  ratio_of_matches(a$hashes, b$hashes)\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\ncount_matches <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"count_matches\")\n\n#' @export\ncount_matches.default <- function(a, b) {\n  length(matching_tokens(a, b))\n}\n\n#' @export\ncount_matches.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  count_matches(a$hashes, b$hashes)\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname similarity-functions\nmatching_tokens <- function(a, b) UseMethod(\"matching_tokens\")\n\n#' @export\nmatching_tokens.default <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)))\n  b[b %in% a]\n}\n\n#' @export\nmatching_tokens.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(a, b) {\n  assert_that(all(class(a) == class(b)),\n              has_tokens(a),\n              has_tokens(b))\n  matching_tokens(a$tokens, b$tokens)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/textreuse-package.r",
    "content": "#' @details\n#' The best place to begin with this package in the introductory vignette.\n#'\n#' \\code{vignette(\"textreuse-introduction\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n#'\n#' After reading that vignette, the \"pairwise\" and \"minhash\" vignettes introduce\n#' specific paths for working with the package.\n#'\n#' \\code{vignette(\"textreuse-pairwise\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n#'\n#' \\code{vignette(\"textreuse-minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n#'\n#' \\code{vignette(\"textreuse-alignment\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n#'\n#' Another good place to begin with the package is the documentation for loading\n#' documents (\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} and\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}), for \\link{tokenizers},\n#' \\link[=similarity-functions]{similarity functions}, and\n#' \\link[=lsh]{locality-sensitive hashing}.\n#'\n#' @references The sample data provided in the \\code{extdata/ats} directory\n#'   contains nineteenth-century American Tract Society publications gathered\n#'   from the \\href{https://archive.org/}{Internet Archive}.\n#'\n#'   The sample data provided in the \\code{extdata/legal} directory, are taken\n#'   from the following nineteenth-century codes of civil procedure from\n#'   California and New York.\n#'\n#'   \\emph{Final Report of the Commissioners on Practice and Pleadings}, in 2\n#'   \\emph{Documents of the Assembly of New York}, 73rd Sess., No. 16, (1850):\n#'   243-250, sections 597-613.\n#'   \\href{http://books.google.com/books?id=9HEbAQAAIAAJ&pg=PA243#v=onepage&q&f=false}{Google\n#'    Books}.\n#'\n#'   \\emph{An Act To Regulate Proceedings in Civil Cases}, 1851 \\emph{California\n#'   Laws} 51, 51-53 sections 4-17; 101, sections 313-316.\n#'   \\href{http://books.google.com/books?id=4PHEAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA51#v=onepage&q&f=false}{Google\n#'    Books}.\n#'\n#' @useDynLib textreuse, .registration = TRUE\n#' @importFrom Rcpp sourceCpp\n#' @import RcppProgress\n#' @import stringr\n#' @import assertthat\n#' @importFrom utils getTxtProgressBar setTxtProgressBar txtProgressBar\n\"_PACKAGE\"\n\nif (getRversion() >= \"2.15.1\") {\n  utils::globalVariables(c(\"doc.x\", \"doc.y\", \"up\", \"dn\", \"a\", \"b\", \".data\", \"band\", \"hash\"))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/token_index.R",
    "content": "#' Build an index of tokens and documents\n#'\n#' Build an inverted index from tokens to the documents that contain them. This\n#' is useful for finding document pairs that share one or more n-grams without\n#' comparing every document pair. The corpus must be created with\n#' \\code{keep_tokens = TRUE}.\n#'\n#' @param corpus A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} with retained tokens.\n#' @param min_doc_count Minimum number of documents a token must appear in to\n#'   be retained. Increase this to remove rare tokens.\n#' @param max_doc_count Maximum number of documents a token may appear in to be\n#'   retained. Decrease this to remove very common tokens.\n#' @return A \\code{textreuse_token_index} data frame with columns \\code{token},\n#'   \\code{docs}, and \\code{n_docs}.\n#' @export\ntoken_index <- function(corpus, min_doc_count = 2, max_doc_count = Inf) {\n  assert_that(is.TextReuseCorpus(corpus),\n              is.count(min_doc_count),\n              is.number(max_doc_count),\n              all(vapply(tokens(corpus), Negate(is.null), logical(1))))\n\n  entries <- lapply(names(corpus), function(doc_id) {\n    tibble::tibble(token = unique(tokens(corpus[[doc_id]])), doc = doc_id)\n  })\n\n  index <- dplyr::bind_rows(entries) %>%\n    dplyr::group_by(.data$token) %>%\n    dplyr::summarize(docs = list(sort(.data$doc)),\n                     n_docs = dplyr::n(),\n                     .groups = \"drop\") %>%\n    dplyr::filter(.data$n_docs >= min_doc_count,\n                  .data$n_docs <= max_doc_count) %>%\n    dplyr::arrange(.data$token)\n\n  class(index) <- c(\"textreuse_token_index\", class(index))\n\n  index\n}\n\n#' Extract candidate document pairs from a token index\n#'\n#' @param index A \\code{textreuse_token_index} object returned by\n#'   \\code{\\link{token_index}}.\n#' @return A \\code{textreuse_candidates} data frame.\n#' @export\ntoken_index_candidates <- function(index) {\n  assert_that(inherits(index, \"textreuse_token_index\"))\n\n  pair_matrices <- lapply(index$docs, function(doc_ids) {\n    if (length(doc_ids) < 2) return(NULL)\n    t(utils::combn(doc_ids, 2))\n  })\n  pair_matrices <- Filter(Negate(is.null), pair_matrices)\n\n  if (length(pair_matrices) == 0) {\n    candidates <- tibble::tibble(a = character(), b = character(),\n                                 score = numeric())\n  } else {\n    candidates <- do.call(rbind, pair_matrices) %>%\n      as.data.frame(stringsAsFactors = FALSE) %>%\n      tibble::as_tibble() %>%\n      stats::setNames(c(\"a\", \"b\")) %>%\n      dplyr::mutate(a = pmin(.data$a, .data$b),\n                    b = pmax(.data$a, .data$b)) %>%\n      dplyr::distinct(.data$a, .data$b) %>%\n      dplyr::arrange(.data$a, .data$b) %>%\n      dplyr::mutate(score = NA_real_)\n  }\n\n  class(candidates) <- c(\"textreuse_candidates\", class(candidates))\n\n  candidates\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/tokenize.R",
    "content": "#' Recompute the tokens for a document or corpus\n#'\n#' Given a \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or a\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}, this function recomputes the tokens and hashes\n#' with the functions specified. Optionally, it can also recompute the minhash signatures.\n#'\n#' @param x A \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#' @param tokenizer A function to split the text into tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{tokenizers}}.\n#' @param ... Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.\n#' @param hash_func A function to hash the tokens. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{hash_string}}.\n#' @param minhash_func A function to create minhash signatures. See\n#'   \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.\n#' @param keep_tokens Should the tokens be saved in the document that is\n#'   returned or discarded?\n#' @param keep_text Should the text be saved in the document that is returned or\n#'   discarded?\n#'\n#' @return The modified \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n#'   \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#'\n#' @examples\n#' dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n#' corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, tokenizer = NULL)\n#' corpus <- tokenize(corpus, tokenize_ngrams)\n#' head(tokens(corpus[[1]]))\n#' @export\ntokenize <- function(x, tokenizer, ..., hash_func = hash_string,\n                     minhash_func = NULL, keep_tokens = FALSE,\n                     keep_text = TRUE) {\n  UseMethod(\"tokenize\", x)\n}\n\n#' @export\ntokenize.TextReuseTextDocument <- function(x, tokenizer, ...,\n                                           hash_func = hash_string,\n                                           minhash_func = NULL,\n                                           keep_tokens = TRUE,\n                                           keep_text = TRUE) {\n  assert_that(has_content(x),\n              is.function(tokenizer),\n              is.function(hash_func))\n  x$tokens <- tokenizer(x$content, ...)\n  x$hashes <- hash_func(x$tokens)\n  if (!keep_tokens) x$tokens <- NULL\n  if (!keep_text) x$text <- NULL\n  x$meta$tokenizer <- as.character(substitute(tokenizer))\n  x$meta$hash_func <- as.character(substitute(hash_func))\n  if (!is.null(minhash_func)) {\n    x$minhash <- minhash_func(x$tokens)\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- as.character(substitute(minhash_func))\n  } else {\n    # If tokens are redone, minhashes are invalid, so delete them if they are\n    # not also recomputed.\n    x$minhashes <- NULL\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- NULL\n  }\n  x\n}\n\n#' @export\ntokenize.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x, tokenizer, ..., hash_func = hash_string,\n                                     minhash_func = NULL, keep_tokens = TRUE,\n                                     keep_text = TRUE) {\n  apply_func <- get_apply_function()\n  x$documents <- apply_func(x$documents, tokenize, tokenizer, ...,\n                            hash_func = hash_func, minhash_func = minhash_func,\n                            keep_tokens = keep_tokens, keep_text = keep_text)\n\n  x$meta$tokenizer <- as.character(substitute(tokenizer))\n  x$meta$hash_func <- as.character(substitute(hash_func))\n  if (!is.null(minhash_func)) {\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- as.character(substitute(minhash_func))\n  } else {\n    x$meta$minhash_func <- NULL\n  }\n\n  x\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/tokenizers.R",
    "content": "#' Split texts into tokens\n#'\n#' These functions each turn a text into tokens. The \\code{tokenize_ngrams}\n#' functions returns shingled n-grams.\n#'\n#' @name tokenizers\n#' @param string A character vector of length 1 to be tokenized.\n#' @param lowercase Should the tokens be made lower case?\n#' @param n For n-gram tokenizers, the number of words in each n-gram.\n#' @param k For the skip n-gram tokenizer, the maximum skip distance between\n#'   words. The function will compute all skip n-grams between \\code{0} and\n#'   \\code{k}.\n#' @details These functions will strip all punctuation.\n#' @return A character vector containing the tokens.\n#' @examples\n#' dylan <- \"How many roads must a man walk down? The answer is blowin' in the wind.\"\n#' tokenize_words(dylan)\n#' tokenize_sentences(dylan)\n#' tokenize_ngrams(dylan, n = 2)\n#' tokenize_skip_ngrams(dylan, n = 3, k = 2)\nNULL\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname tokenizers\ntokenize_words <- function(string, lowercase = TRUE) {\n  assert_that(assertthat::is.string(string))\n  out <- str_split(string, boundary(\"word\"))[[1]]\n  if (lowercase) str_to_lower(out) else out\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname tokenizers\ntokenize_sentences <- function(string, lowercase = TRUE) {\n  assert_that(assertthat::is.string(string))\n  out <- str_split(string, boundary(\"sentence\", skip_word_none = FALSE))[[1]]\n  out <- str_replace_all(out, \"[[:punct:]]\", \" \")\n  out <- str_replace_all(out, \"\\\\s+\", \" \")\n  out <- str_trim(out)\n  if (lowercase) str_to_lower(out) else out\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname tokenizers\ntokenize_ngrams <- function(string, lowercase = TRUE, n = 3) {\n  assert_that(is.count(n),\n              assertthat::is.string(string))\n  words <- tokenize_words(string, lowercase = lowercase)\n  assert_that(n < length(words))\n  shingle_ngrams(words, n = n)\n}\n\n#' @export\n#' @rdname tokenizers\ntokenize_skip_ngrams <- function(string, lowercase = TRUE, n = 3, k = 1) {\n  assert_that(is.count(n),\n              is.count(k) | k == 0,\n              assertthat::is.string(string))\n  words <- tokenize_words(string, lowercase = lowercase)\n  assert_that(n + n * k - k <= length(words))\n  skip_ngrams(words, n = n, k = k)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/utils.R",
    "content": "# Take results of readLines and turn it into a character vector of length 1\nas_string <- function(x) {\n  x %>%\n    str_c(collapse = \"\\n\") %>%\n    NLP::as.String()\n}\n\n# Pretty print the metadata for a document\npretty_print_metadata <- function(doc) {\n  lapply(names(doc$meta), function(x) cat(x, \":\", doc$meta[[x]], \"\\n\"))\n}\n\n# Check whether the number of minhashes is evenly divisible by number of bands\ncheck_banding <- function(h, b) {\n  h %% b == 0\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(check_banding) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"The number of hashes must be evenly divisible by the number of bands.\"\n}\n\n# Sequences for subsetting by bands in minhash\nband_seq <- function(l, b) {\n  assert_that(check_banding(l, b))\n  r <- l / b\n  starts <- seq.int(from = 1, to = l, by = r)\n  lapply(starts, function(n) seq.int(n, n + r - 1, 1))\n}\n\n# Test that meta exists and that it has an ID value\nhas_id <- function(meta) {\n  !is.null(meta$id)\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(has_id) <- function(call, env) {\n  paste(\"When creating a document from a string instead of a file, the `id`\",\n        \"field in the metadata list must be specified.\")\n}\n\n# People might row_bind() two of these data frames, so we can't rely just on\n# the class.\nis_lsh_buckets <- function(x) {\n  identical(names(x), c(\"doc\", \"buckets\")) & inherits(x, \"data.frame\")\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(is_lsh_buckets) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Object is not a data frame of LSH buckets.\"\n}\n\n# People might run a candidates data frame through dplyr so that it loses its\n# class.\nis_candidates_df <- function(x) {\n  class_check <- inherits(x, \"textreuse_candidates\")\n  col_check <- all(c(\"a\", \"b\", \"score\") %in% names(x)) & inherits(x, \"data.frame\")\n  class_check | col_check\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(is_candidates_df) <- function(call, env) {\n  \"Object is not a candidates data frame.\"\n}\n\nis_integer_like <- function(x) {\n  is.integer(x) | (is.scalar(x) & (x == as.integer(x)))\n}\n\nassertthat::on_failure(is_integer_like) <- function(call, env) {\n paste0(deparse(call$x), \" is not a whole number.\")\n}\n\nsort_meta <- function(meta) {\n  meta[order(names(meta))]\n}\n\nsort_df_by_rows <- function(df) {\n  assert_that(all(c(\"a\", \"b\") %in% colnames(df)),\n              is.data.frame(df))\n  for (i in seq_len(nrow(df))) {\n    ordered <- sort(c(df[i, \"a\"], df[i, \"b\"]))\n    df[i, \"a\"] <- ordered[1]\n    df[i, \"b\"] <- ordered[2]\n  }\n  df\n}\n\nsort_df_by_columns <- function(df) {\n  assert_that(all(c(\"a\", \"b\") %in% colnames(df)),\n              is.data.frame(df))\n  df <- df[with(df, order(a, b)), ]\n  # rownames(df) <- NULL\n  df\n}\n\n# Given a word, create a string with the same number of marker characters\nmark_chars <- function(word, char) {\n  str_c(rep(char, str_length(word)), collapse = \"\")\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "R/wordcount.R",
    "content": "#' Count words\n#'\n#' This function counts words in a text, for example, a character vector, a\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, some other object that inherits from\n#' \\code{\\link[NLP]{TextDocument}}, or a all the documents in a\n#' \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n#'\n#' @param x The object containing a text.\n#' @export\n#' @return An integer vector for the word count.\nwordcount <- function(x) UseMethod(\"wordcount\", x)\n\n#' @export\nwordcount.default <- function(x) {\n  assert_that(is.string(x))\n  str_count(x, boundary(\"word\"))\n}\n\n#' @export\nwordcount.TextDocument <- function(x) wordcount(x$content)\n\n#' @export\nwordcount.TextReuseCorpus <- function(x) {\n  vapply(x$documents, wordcount, integer(1))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "README.Rmd",
    "content": "---\noutput: md_document\ntitle: Detect Text Reuse and Document Similarity\n---\n\n<!-- README.md is generated from README.Rmd. Please edit that file -->\n\n```{r, echo = FALSE, warning = FALSE, message = FALSE}\nknitr::opts_chunk$set(\n  collapse = TRUE,\n  comment = \"#>\",\n  warning = FALSE,\n  fig.path = \"README-\"\n)\nsuppressWarnings(suppressPackageStartupMessages(library(dplyr)))\n```\n\n# textreuse\n\n[![CRAN_Status_Badge](https://www.r-pkg.org/badges/version/textreuse)](https://cran.r-project.org/package=textreuse)\n[![CRAN_Downloads](https://cranlogs.r-pkg.org/badges/grand-total/textreuse)](https://cran.r-project.org/package=textreuse)\n[![Coverage Status](https://img.shields.io/codecov/c/github/ropensci/textreuse/master.svg)](https://app.codecov.io/github/ropensci/textreuse?branch=master)\n[![rOpenSci badge](https://badges.ropensci.org/20_status.svg)](https://github.com/ropensci/software-review/issues/20)\n\n## Overview\n\nThis [R](https://www.r-project.org/) package provides a set of functions for measuring similarity among documents and detecting passages which have been reused. It implements shingled n-gram, skip n-gram, and other tokenizers; similarity/dissimilarity functions; pairwise comparisons; minhash and locality sensitive hashing algorithms; and a version of the Smith-Waterman local alignment algorithm suitable for natural language. It is broadly useful for, for example, detecting duplicate documents in a corpus prior to text analysis, or for identifying borrowed passages between texts. The classes provided by this package follow the model of other natural language processing packages for R, especially the [NLP](https://cran.r-project.org/package=NLP) and [tm](https://cran.r-project.org/package=tm) packages. (However, this package has no dependency on Java, which should make it easier to install.)\n\n### Citation\n\nIf you use this package for scholarly research, I would appreciate a citation.\n\n```{r}\ncitation(\"textreuse\")\n```\n\n## Installation\n\nTo install this package from CRAN:\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\ninstall.packages(\"textreuse\")\n```\n\nTo install the development version from GitHub, use [devtools](https://github.com/r-lib/devtools).  \n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\n# install.packages(\"devtools\")\ndevtools::install_github(\"ropensci/textreuse\", build_vignettes = TRUE)\n```\n\n## Examples\n\nThere are three main approaches that one may take when using this package: pairwise comparisons, minhashing/locality sensitive hashing, and extracting matching passages through text alignment.\n\nSee the [introductory vignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-introduction.html) for a description of the classes provided by this package.\n\n```{r eval = FALSE}\nvignette(\"textreuse-introduction\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n\n### Pairwise comparisons\n\nIn this example we will load a tiny corpus of three documents. These documents are drawn from Kellen Funk's [research](https://kellenfunk.org/field-code/) into the propagation of legal codes of civil procedure in the nineteenth-century United States.\n\n```{r}\nlibrary(textreuse)\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, meta = list(title = \"Civil procedure\"),\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 7)\n```\n\nWe have loaded the three documents into a corpus, which involves tokenizing the text and hashing the tokens. We can inspect the corpus as a whole or the individual documents that make it up.\n\n```{r}\ncorpus\nnames(corpus)\ncorpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]]\n```\n\nNow we can compare each of the documents to one another. The `pairwise_compare()` function applies a comparison function (in this case, `jaccard_similarity()`) to every pair of documents. The result is a matrix of scores. As we would expect, some documents are similar and others are not.\n\n```{r}\ncomparisons <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\ncomparisons\n```\n\nWe can convert that matrix to a data frame of pairs and scores if we prefer.\n\n```{r}\npairwise_candidates(comparisons)\n```\n\nSee the [pairwise vignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-pairwise.html) for a fuller description.\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\nvignette(\"textreuse-pairwise\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n\n### Minhashing and locality sensitive hashing\n\nPairwise comparisons can be very time-consuming because they grow geometrically with the size of the corpus. (A corpus with 10 documents would require at least 45 comparisons; a corpus with 100 documents would require 4,950 comparisons; a corpus with 1,000 documents would require 499,500 comparisons.) That's why this package implements the minhash and locality sensitive hashing algorithms, which can detect candidate pairs much faster than pairwise comparisons in corpora of any significant size. \n\nFor this example we will load a small corpus of ten documents published by the American Tract Society. We will also create a minhash function, which represents an entire document (regardless of length) by a fixed number of integer hashes. When we create the corpus, the documents will each have a minhash signature.\n\n```{r}\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/ats\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\nats <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                       tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                       minhash_func = minhash)\n```\n\nNow we can calculate potential matches, extract the candidates, and apply a comparison function to just those candidates.\n\n```{r}\nbuckets <- lsh(ats, bands = 50, progress = FALSE)\ncandidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\nscores <- lsh_compare(candidates, ats, jaccard_similarity, progress = FALSE)\nscores\n```\n\nFor details, see the [minhash vignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-minhash.html).\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\nvignette(\"textreuse-minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n\n### Text alignment\n\nWe can also extract the optimal alignment between two documents with a version of the  [Smith-Waterman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Waterman_algorithm) algorithm, used for protein sequence alignment, adapted for natural language. The longest matching substring according to scoring values will be extracted, and variations in the alignment will be marked.\n\n```{r}\na <- \"'How do I know', she asked, 'if this is a good match?'\"\nb <- \"'This is a match', he replied.\"\nalign_local(a, b)\n```\n\nFor details, see the [text alignment vignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-alignment.html).\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\nvignette(\"textreuse-alignment\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n\n### Parallel processing\n\nLoading the corpus and creating tokens benefit from using multiple cores, if available. (This works only on non-Windows machines.) To use multiple cores, set `options(\"mc.cores\" = 4L)`, where the number is how many cores you wish to use.\n\n### Contributing and acknowledgments\n\nPlease note that this project is released with a [Contributor Code of Conduct](https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse/blob/master/CONDUCT.md). By participating in this project you agree to abide by its terms.\n\nThanks to [Noam Ross](https://www.noamross.net/) for his thorough [peer review](https://github.com/ropensci/software-review/issues/20) of this package for [rOpenSci](https://ropensci.org/).\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[![rOpenSCi logo](https://ropensci.org/public_images/github_footer.png)](https://ropensci.org)\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "README.md",
    "content": "<!-- README.md is generated from README.Rmd. Please edit that file -->\n\n# textreuse\n\n[![CRAN\\_Status\\_Badge](https://www.r-pkg.org/badges/version/textreuse)](https://cran.r-project.org/package=textreuse)\n[![CRAN\\_Downloads](https://cranlogs.r-pkg.org/badges/grand-total/textreuse)](https://cran.r-project.org/package=textreuse)\n[![Coverage\nStatus](https://img.shields.io/codecov/c/github/ropensci/textreuse/master.svg)](https://app.codecov.io/github/ropensci/textreuse?branch=master)\n[![rOpenSci\nbadge](https://badges.ropensci.org/20_status.svg)](https://github.com/ropensci/software-review/issues/20)\n\n## Overview\n\nThis [R](https://www.r-project.org/) package provides a set of functions\nfor measuring similarity among documents and detecting passages which\nhave been reused. It implements shingled n-gram, skip n-gram, and other\ntokenizers; similarity/dissimilarity functions; pairwise comparisons;\nminhash and locality sensitive hashing algorithms; and a version of the\nSmith-Waterman local alignment algorithm suitable for natural language.\nIt is broadly useful for, for example, detecting duplicate documents in\na corpus prior to text analysis, or for identifying borrowed passages\nbetween texts. The classes provided by this package follow the model of\nother natural language processing packages for R, especially the\n[NLP](https://cran.r-project.org/package=NLP) and\n[tm](https://cran.r-project.org/package=tm) packages. (However, this\npackage has no dependency on Java, which should make it easier to\ninstall.)\n\n### Citation\n\nIf you use this package for scholarly research, I would appreciate a\ncitation.\n\n    citation(\"textreuse\")\n    #> To cite package 'textreuse' in publications use:\n    #> \n    #>   Mullen L, Li Y (2026). _textreuse: Detect Text Reuse and Document\n    #>   Similarity_. R package version 1.0.1,\n    #>   https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse,\n    #>   <https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/>.\n    #> \n    #> A BibTeX entry for LaTeX users is\n    #> \n    #>   @Manual{,\n    #>     title = {textreuse: Detect Text Reuse and Document Similarity},\n    #>     author = {Lincoln Mullen and Yaoxiang Li},\n    #>     year = {2026},\n    #>     note = {R package version 1.0.1, \n    #> https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse},\n    #>     url = {https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/},\n    #>   }\n\n## Installation\n\nTo install this package from CRAN:\n\n    install.packages(\"textreuse\")\n\nTo install the development version from GitHub, use\n[devtools](https://github.com/r-lib/devtools).\n\n    # install.packages(\"devtools\")\n    devtools::install_github(\"ropensci/textreuse\", build_vignettes = TRUE)\n\n## Examples\n\nThere are three main approaches that one may take when using this\npackage: pairwise comparisons, minhashing/locality sensitive hashing,\nand extracting matching passages through text alignment.\n\nSee the [introductory\nvignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-introduction.html)\nfor a description of the classes provided by this package.\n\n    vignette(\"textreuse-introduction\", package = \"textreuse\")\n\n### Pairwise comparisons\n\nIn this example we will load a tiny corpus of three documents. These\ndocuments are drawn from Kellen Funk’s\n[research](https://kellenfunk.org/field-code/) into the propagation of\nlegal codes of civil procedure in the nineteenth-century United States.\n\n    library(textreuse)\n    dir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\n    corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, meta = list(title = \"Civil procedure\"),\n                              tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 7)\n\nWe have loaded the three documents into a corpus, which involves\ntokenizing the text and hashing the tokens. We can inspect the corpus as\na whole or the individual documents that make it up.\n\n    corpus\n    #> TextReuseCorpus\n    #> Number of documents: 3 \n    #> hash_func : hash_string \n    #> title : Civil procedure \n    #> tokenizer : tokenize_ngrams\n    names(corpus)\n    #> [1] \"ca1851-match\"   \"ca1851-nomatch\" \"ny1850-match\"\n    corpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]]\n    #> TextReuseTextDocument\n    #> file : C:/Users/Bach/AppData/Local/R/win-library/4.4/textreuse/extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt \n    #> hash_func : hash_string \n    #> id : ca1851-match \n    #> minhash_func : \n    #> tokenizer : tokenize_ngrams \n    #> content : § 4. Every action shall be prosecuted in the name of the real party\n    #> in interest, except as otherwise provided in this Act.\n    #> \n    #> § 5. In the case of an assignment of a thing in action, the action by\n    #> the as\n\nNow we can compare each of the documents to one another. The\n`pairwise_compare()` function applies a comparison function (in this\ncase, `jaccard_similarity()`) to every pair of documents. The result is\na matrix of scores. As we would expect, some documents are similar and\nothers are not.\n\n    comparisons <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n    comparisons\n    #>                ca1851-match ca1851-nomatch ny1850-match\n    #> ca1851-match             NA              0    0.3842549\n    #> ca1851-nomatch           NA             NA    0.0000000\n    #> ny1850-match             NA             NA           NA\n\nWe can convert that matrix to a data frame of pairs and scores if we\nprefer.\n\n    pairwise_candidates(comparisons)\n    #> # A tibble: 3 × 3\n    #>   a              b              score\n    #> * <chr>          <chr>          <dbl>\n    #> 1 ca1851-match   ca1851-nomatch 0    \n    #> 2 ca1851-match   ny1850-match   0.384\n    #> 3 ca1851-nomatch ny1850-match   0\n\nSee the [pairwise\nvignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-pairwise.html)\nfor a fuller description.\n\n    vignette(\"textreuse-pairwise\", package = \"textreuse\")\n\n### Minhashing and locality sensitive hashing\n\nPairwise comparisons can be very time-consuming because they grow\ngeometrically with the size of the corpus. (A corpus with 10 documents\nwould require at least 45 comparisons; a corpus with 100 documents would\nrequire 4,950 comparisons; a corpus with 1,000 documents would require\n499,500 comparisons.) That’s why this package implements the minhash and\nlocality sensitive hashing algorithms, which can detect candidate pairs\nmuch faster than pairwise comparisons in corpora of any significant\nsize.\n\nFor this example we will load a small corpus of ten documents published\nby the American Tract Society. We will also create a minhash function,\nwhich represents an entire document (regardless of length) by a fixed\nnumber of integer hashes. When we create the corpus, the documents will\neach have a minhash signature.\n\n    dir <- system.file(\"extdata/ats\", package = \"textreuse\")\n    minhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\n    ats <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                           tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                           minhash_func = minhash)\n\nNow we can calculate potential matches, extract the candidates, and\napply a comparison function to just those candidates.\n\n    buckets <- lsh(ats, bands = 50, progress = FALSE)\n    candidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\n    scores <- lsh_compare(candidates, ats, jaccard_similarity, progress = FALSE)\n    scores\n    #> # A tibble: 1 × 3\n    #>   a              b                      score\n    #>   <chr>          <chr>                  <dbl>\n    #> 1 remember00palm remembermeorholy00palm 0.701\n\nFor details, see the [minhash\nvignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-minhash.html).\n\n    vignette(\"textreuse-minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")\n\n### Text alignment\n\nWe can also extract the optimal alignment between two documents with a\nversion of the\n[Smith-Waterman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Waterman_algorithm)\nalgorithm, used for protein sequence alignment, adapted for natural\nlanguage. The longest matching substring according to scoring values\nwill be extracted, and variations in the alignment will be marked.\n\n    a <- \"'How do I know', she asked, 'if this is a good match?'\"\n    b <- \"'This is a match', he replied.\"\n    align_local(a, b)\n    #> TextReuse alignment\n    #> Alignment score: 7 \n    #> Document A:\n    #> this is a good match\n    #> \n    #> Document B:\n    #> This is a #### match\n\nFor details, see the [text alignment\nvignette](https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/articles/textreuse-alignment.html).\n\n    vignette(\"textreuse-alignment\", package = \"textreuse\")\n\n### Parallel processing\n\nLoading the corpus and creating tokens benefit from using multiple\ncores, if available. (This works only on non-Windows machines.) To use\nmultiple cores, set `options(\"mc.cores\" = 4L)`, where the number is how\nmany cores you wish to use.\n\n### Contributing and acknowledgments\n\nPlease note that this project is released with a [Contributor Code of\nConduct](https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse/blob/master/CONDUCT.md).\nBy participating in this project you agree to abide by its terms.\n\nThanks to [Noam Ross](https://www.noamross.net/) for his thorough [peer\nreview](https://github.com/ropensci/software-review/issues/20) of this\npackage for [rOpenSci](https://ropensci.org/).\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n[![rOpenSCi\nlogo](https://ropensci.org/public_images/github_footer.png)](https://ropensci.org)\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "_pkgdown.yml",
    "content": "url: https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/\n\ntemplate:\n  bootstrap: 5\n  bootswatch: united\n\nauthors:\n  Yaoxiang Li:\n    href: \"https://github.com/yaoxiangli\"\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "appveyor.yml",
    "content": "# DO NOT CHANGE the \"init\" and \"install\" sections below\n\n# Download script file from GitHub\ninit:\n  ps: |\n        $ErrorActionPreference = \"Stop\"\n        Invoke-WebRequest http://raw.github.com/krlmlr/r-appveyor/master/scripts/appveyor-tool.ps1 -OutFile \"..\\appveyor-tool.ps1\"\n        Import-Module '..\\appveyor-tool.ps1'\n\ninstall:\n  ps: Bootstrap\n\n# Adapt as necessary starting from here\n\nbuild: off\n\nbuild_script:\n  - travis-tool.sh install_deps\n\ntest_script:\n  - travis-tool.sh run_tests\n\non_failure:\n  - travis-tool.sh dump_logs\n\nartifacts:\n  - path: '*.Rcheck\\**\\*.log'\n    name: Logs\n\n  - path: '*.Rcheck\\**\\*.out'\n    name: Logs\n\n  - path: '*.Rcheck\\**\\*.fail'\n    name: Logs\n\n  - path: '*.Rcheck\\**\\*.Rout'\n    name: Logs\n\n  - path: '\\*_*.tar.gz'\n    name: Bits\n\n  - path: '\\*_*.zip'\n    name: Bits\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "cran-comments.md",
    "content": "This is a new release with bug fixes, documentation refreshes, and helper\nfunctions added after a long maintenance interval.\n\nThis resubmission fixes a moved URL in README.md:\nhttps://github.com/hadley/devtools was replaced with\nhttps://github.com/r-lib/devtools.\n\nThis is also a maintainer change release. The maintainer has changed from\nLincoln Mullen <lincoln@lincolnmullen.com> to Yaoxiang Li\n<liyaoxiang@outlook.com>. The previous maintainer, Lincoln Mullen, has\nconfirmed by email that he supports the maintainer transition. I can provide\nthe email thread if requested.\n\n## Test environments\n\n* local Windows 11 install: R 4.4.2\n\n## R CMD check results\n\nThere were no ERRORs or WARNINGs.\n\nLocal checks were run with:\n\n`R CMD check --no-manual textreuse_1.0.1.tar.gz`\n\n`R CMD check --as-cran --no-manual textreuse_1.0.1.tar.gz`\n\nThe `--as-cran` check reported three NOTEs:\n\n* This release changes the maintainer from Lincoln Mullen to Yaoxiang Li.\n* The local Windows check was unable to verify the current time.\n* The local Windows check reported that README.md or NEWS.md could not be\n  checked without pandoc. README.md was regenerated locally with rmarkdown,\n  and the pkgdown site was built locally with RStudio Pandoc before release.\n\nThere were no invalid URL NOTEs.\n\n## Downstream dependencies\n\nThere are no known downstream dependency issues.\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/calltounconv00baxt.txt",
    "content": "\nGlass. \n\n\n\nBook,____._._ \n\n\n\n(ttmmtixc \n\n\n\nmm¥m %m(m>m \n\n\n\nv'OJj \n\n\n\n\nA \n\nCALL \n\nTO \n\nTHE TTNCONVEETS9. \n\n\n\nBY REV. RICHARD BAXTER. \n\n\n\nAN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, \n\nBY RCV. THOMAS CHALMERS, D. D. \n\n\n\nPDBUSHED BY THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n\n150 NASSAU-STREET, KEWYORK. \n\n\n\nD. Fanshaw, Printer. \n\n\n\nDR. CHALMERS' \n\n|f INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, \n\nABRIDGED. \n\n\n\nThe \" Call to the Unconverted \" by Richard Bax • \nter, is characterized by all that solemn earnestness, \nand urgency of appeal, for winch the writings of this \nmuch-admired author are so peculiarly distinguished. \nHe seems to look upon mankind solely with the eyes \nof the Spirit, and exclusively to recognize them in \ntheir spiritual relations, and in the great and essential \nelements of their immortal being. Their future des- \ntiny is the all-important concern which fills and en- \ngrosses his mind, and he regards nothing of any mag- \nnitude but what has a distinct bearing on their spiri- \ntual and eternal condition. His business, therefore, is \nalways with the conscience, to which he makes the \nmost forcible appeals, ami which he plies with all \nthose arguments which are fitted to awaken the sinner \nto a deep sense of the necessity and importance of im- \nmediate repentance. He endeavors to move him by \nthe most touching of all representations, the tender- \nness of a beseeching God waiting to be gracious, and \nnot willing that any should perish ; and while he em- \nploys every form of entreaty, which tenderness and \ncompassion can suggest, to allure the sinner to \"turn \nand live,\" he does not shrink from forcing on his con- \nvictions those considerations which are fitted to alarm \nhis fears, the terrors of the Lord, and the wrath, not \nmerely of an offended Lawgiver, but of a God of love, \nwhose threatemngs he disregards, whose grace he des* \n\n\n\n4 INTRODUCTION. \n\npises, and whose mercy he rejects. And aware of the \ndeceitfulness of sin in hardening the heart, and in be- \ntraying the sinner into a neglect of his spiritual inte- \nrests, he divests him of every refuge, and strips him of \nevery plea for postponing his preparation for eternity. \nHe forcibly exposes the delusion of convenient seasons, \nand the awful infatuation and hazard of delay, and \nKnowing the magnitude of the stake at issue, he urges \nthe sinner to immediate repentance, as if the fearful \nand almost absolute alternative were \"Now or Never.\" \nAnd to secure the commencement of such an important \nwork against all the dangers to which procrastination \nmight expose it, he endeavors to arrest the sinner in \nhis career of guilt and unconcern, and resolutely to fix \nhis determination on \" turning to God this day with- \nout delay.\" \n\nThere are two very prevalent delusions on this sub- \nject, which we should like to expose ; the one regards \nthe nature, and the other the season of repentance; \nboth of which are pregnant with mischief to the minds \nof men. With regard to the first, much mischief has \narisen from mistakes respecting the meaning of tho \ntenn repentance. The word repentance occurs with \ntwo different meanings in the New Testament ; and \nit is to be regretted, that two different words could not \nhave been devised to express these. This is charge- \nable upon the poverty of our language; for it is to be \nobserved, that in the original Greek the distinction in \nthe meanings is pointed out by a distinction in tho \nwords. The employment of one term to denote two \ndifferent things has the effect of confounding and mis- \nleading the understanding ; and it is much to be \nwished, that every ambiguity of this kind were clear- \ned away from that most interesting point in the pro- \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 5 \n\ncess of a human soul, ax which it turns from sin unto \nrighteousness, and from the power of Satan unto God. \n\nWhen in common language, a man says, \" I repent \nof such an action,\" he is understood to say, \" I am sorry \nfor having done it.\" The feeling is familiar to all of \nus. How often does the man of dissipation prove this \nsense of the word repentance, when he awakes in the \nmonung, and, oppressed by the languor of ins ex- \nhausted faculties, looks back with remorse on the fol- \nlies and profligacies of the night that is past? How \noften does the man of unguarded conversation prove it, \nwhen he thinks of the friends whose feelings he has \nwounded by some hasty utterance which he cannot \nrecall 1 How often is it proved by the man of business, \nwhen he reflects on the rash engagement which ties \nhim down to a losing speculation? All these people \nwould be perfectly understood wiien they say, \" We \nrepent of these doings.\" The word repentance so \napplied is about equivalent to the word regret. There \nare several passages in the New Testament where \nthis is the undoubted sense of the word repentance. \nIn Matt. 27: 3. the wretched Judas repented himself \nof his treachery ; and surely, wlien we think of the \nawful denunciation uttered by our Savior against the \nman who should betray him, that it were better for \nhim if he had not been born, we shall never confound \nthe repentance which Judas experienced with that \nrepentance winch is unto salvation. \n\nNow here lies the danger to practical Christianity. \nIn the above-cited passage, to repent is just to regret, \nor to be sorry for ; and tins we conceive .o be by fai \nthe most prevailing sense of the term in the English \nlanguage. But there are other places where the same \nterm is employed to denote that which is urged upon \n\n\n\n6 INTRODUCTION. \n\nus as a duty — that which is preached for the remis- \nsion of sins — that which is so indispensable to sinners, \nas to call forth the declaration from our Savior, thai \nunless we have it, we shall all likewise perish. Now, \nthough repentance, in all these cases, is expressed by \nthe same term in our translation as the repentance ot \nmere regret, it is expressed by a different term in the \noriginal record of our faith. This surely might lead \nus to suspect a difference of meaning, and should cau- \ntion us against taking up with that, as sufficient for \nthe business of our salvation, which is short of saving \nand scriptural repentance. There may be an alterna- \ntion of wilful sin, and of deep-felt sorrow, up to th© \nvery end of our history — there may be a presumptu- \nous sin committed every day, and a sorrow regularly \nsucceeding it. Sorrow may imbitter every act of sin — \nsorrow may darken every interval of sinful indul- \ngence — and sorrow may give an unutterable anguish \nto the pains and the prospects of a deathbed. Couple \nall this with the circumstance that sorrow passes, in \nthe common currency of our language, for repentance , \nand that repentance is made, by our Bible, to lie at \nthe turning point from a state of condemnation to a \nstate of acceptance with God; and it is difficult not to \nconceive thai much danger may have arisen from this, \nleading to indistinct views of the nature of repentance, \nand to slender and superficial conceptions of the migh- \nty change which is implied in it. \n\nWe are far from saying that the eye of Christiana \nis not open to this danger — and that the vigilant care \nof Christian authors has not been employed in avert- \ning it. Where will we get a better definition of re- \npentance unto life than in our Shorter Catechism? by \nwhich the sinner is represented not merely as grieving. \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 7 \n\nbut, along with his grief and hatred of sin, aa turning \nfrom it unto God with full purpose of, and endeavor \nafter new obedience. But the mischief is, that the \nword repent has a common meaning, different from \nthe theological ; that wherever it is used, this common \nmeaning is apt to intrude itself, and exert a kind of \nhabitual imposition upon the understanding — that the \ninfluence of the single word carries it over the influ- \nence of the lengthened explanation — and thus it is \nthat, for a steady progress in the obedience of the \ngospel, many persevere, to the end of their days, in a \nwretched course of sinning and cf sorrowing, without \nfruit and without amendment. \n\nTo save the practically mischievous effect arising \nfrom the application of one term to two different things, \none distinct and appropriate tenn has been suggested \nfor the saving repentance of the New Testament. \nThe term repentance itself has been restricted to the \nrepentance of mere sorrow, and is made equivalent to \nregret ; and for the other, able translators have \nadopted the word reformation. The one is expressive \nof sorrow for our past conduct ; the other is expressive \nof our renouncing it. It denotes an actual turning \nfrom the habits of life that we are sorry for. Give us, \nsay they, a change from bad deeds to good deeds, \nfrom bad habits to good habits, from a life of wicked- \nness to a life of conformity to the requirements of \nheaven, and you give us reformation. \n\nNow there is often nothing more unprofitable than \na dispute about words ; but if a word has got into com- \nmon use, a common and generally understood mean- \ning is attached to it ; and if this meaning does not \njust come up to the thing which we want to express \nby it, the application of that word to that thing has \n\n\n\n3 INTRODUCTION- \n\nthe same misleading effects as in the case already \nalluded to. Now, we have much the same kind of \nexception to allege against the term reformation, that \nwe have alleged against the term repentance. The \nterm repentance is inadequate — and why? because, \nin the common use of it, it is equivalent to regret, and \nregret is short of the saving change that is spoken of \nin the New Testament. On the very same principle, \nwe count the term reformation to be inadequate. We \nthink that, in common language, a man would receive \nthe appellation of a reformed man upon the mere \nchange of his outward habits, without any reference \nto the change of mind and of principle which gave \nrise to it. Let the drunkard give up his excesses — \nlet the backbiter give up his evil speakings — let the \nextortioner give up his unfair charges — and we would \napply to one and all of them, upon the mere change \nof their external doings, the character of reformed \nmen. Now, it is evident that the drunkard may give \nup his drunkenness, because checked by a serious im- \npression of the injury he has been doing to his health \nand his circumstances. The backbiter may give up \nhis evil speaking, on being made to perceive that the \nhateful practice has brought upon him the contempt \nand alienation of his neighbors. The extortioner may \ngive up his unfair charges, upon taking it into calcu- \nlation that his business is likely to suffer by the deser- \ntion of his customers. Now, it is evident, that though \nin each of these cases there has been what the world \nwould call reformation, there has not been scriptural \nrepentance. The deficiency of the former term con- \ngists in its having been employed to denote a mere \nchange in the deeds or in the habits of the outward \nman • and if employed as equivalent to repentance, it \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. y \n\nmay delude us into the idea that the change by which \nwe are made meet for a happy eternity is a far more \nslender and superficial thing than it really is. It is \nof little importance to be told that the translator means \nit only in the sense of a reformed conduct, proceeding \nfrom the influence of a new and a right principle \nwithin. The common meaning of the word will, as \nin the former instance, be ever and anon intruding \nitself, and get the better of all the formal cautions, and \nall the qualifying clauses of our Bible commentators. \nBut, will not the original word itself throw some \nlight upon this important question? The repentance \nwhich is enjoined as a duty — the repentance which \nis unto salvation — the repentance which sinners un- \ndergo when they pass to a state of acceptance with \nGod from a state of enmity against him — these are \nall one and the same thing, and are expressed by one \nand the same word in the original language of the \nNew Testament. It is different from the word which \nexpresses the repentance of sorrow ; and if translated \naccording to the parts of which it is composed, it sig- \nnifies neither more nor less than a change of mind. \nThis of itself is sufficient to prove the inadequacy ot \nthe term reformation^a term which is often applied \nto a man upon the mere change of his conduct, with- \nout ever adverting to the state of his mind, or to the \nkind of change in motive and in principle which it \nhas undergone. It is true, that there can be no change \nin the conduct without some change in the inward \nprinciple. A reformed drunkard, before careless about \nhealth or fortune, may be so far changed as to become \nimpressed with these considerations; but this change \nis evidently short of that which the Bible calls repent- \nance toward God. It is a change that may, and has \n\n\n\n10 INTRpDUCTION. \n\ntaken place in many a mind, when there was no \neffectual sense of the God who is above us, and of the \neternity which is before us. It is a change, brought \nabout by the prospect and the calculation of worldly \nadvantages ; and, in the enjoyment of these advan- \ntages it hath its sole reward. But it is not done unto \nGod, and God will not accept of it as done unto him. \nReformation may signify nothing more than the mere \nsurface-dressing of those decencies, and proprieties, \nand accomplishments, and civil and prudential duties, \nwhich, however fitted to secure a man's acceptance \nin society, may, one and all of them, consist with a \nheart alienated from God, and having every principle \nand affection of the inner man away from him. True, \nit is such a change as the man will reap benefit from, \nas his friends will rejoice in, as the world will call \nreformation ; but it is not such a change as will make \nhim meet for heaven; nor is it, in its import, what our \nSavior speaks of, when he says, \" I tell you nay, ex- \ncept ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.\" \n\nThere is no single word in the English language \nwhich occurs to us as fully equal to the faithful ren- \ndering of the term in the original. Renewedness oj \nmind, however awkward a phrase this may be, is \nperhaps the most nearly expressive of it. Certain it \nis, that it harmonizes with those other passages of the \nBible where the process is described by which saving \nrepentance ie brought about. We read of being \ntransformed by the renewing of our minds, of the re- \nnewing of the Holy Ghost, of being renewed in the \nspirit of our minds. Scriptural repentance, therefore, \nis that deep and radical change whereby a said turns \nfrom the idcls of sin and of self unto God, and de- \nvotes eve?y movement of the inner and Vie outer man \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 11 \n\nto ihe. captivity of his obedicwe. This is the change \nwhich, whether it be expressed by one word or not in \nthe English language, we would have you well to \nunderstand ; and reformation or change in the out- \nward conduct, instead of being saving and scriptural \nrepentance, is what, in the language of John the \nBaptist, we would call a fruit meet for it. But if \nmiscliief is likely to arise, from the want of an ade- \nquate word in our language, to that repentance which \nis unto salvation, there is one effectual preservative \nagainst it — a firm and consistent exhibition of the \nwhole counsel and revelation of God. A man who is \nwell read in his New Testament, and reads it with \ndocility, will dismiss all his meagre conceptions of \nrepentance when he comes to the following state- \nments: — \"Except a man be born again he cannot \nsee the kingdom of God.\" \" Except ye be converted, \nand become as little children, ye shall not enter into \nthe kingdom of heaven.\" \" If any man have not the \nSpirit of Christ he is none of his.\" \" The carnal \nmind is enmity against God ; and if ye live after the \nflesh ye shall die; but if ye, through the Spirit, do \nmortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.\" \" Be not \nthen conformed to this world, but be ye transformed \nby the renewing of your minds.\" Such are the terms \nemployed to describe the process by which the soul \nof man is renewed unto repentance ; and, with your \nhearts familiarized to the mighty import of these \nterms, you will carry with you an effectual guarantee \nagainst those false and flimsy impressions, which are \nso current in the world, about the preparation of a \nsinner for eternity. ***** \n\nWe should like, moreover, to reduce every man to \nthe feeling of repentance now or the alternative of \n\n\n\n12 INTRODUCTION. \n\nrepentance never. We should like to flash it upmi \nyour convictions, that, by putting the call away from \nyou now, you put your eternity away from you. We \nshould like tc expose the whole amount of that accure \ned infatuation which lies in delay. We should like to \narouse every soul out of its lethargies, and give noquar* \nter to the plea of a little more sleep, and a little more \nslumber. We should like you to feel as if the whole of \nyour future destiny hinged on the very first movement \nto which you turned yourselves. The work of repent- \nance must have a beginning; and we should like you \nto know that, if not begun to-day, the chance will be \nless of its being begun to-morrow. And if the greater \nchance has failed, what hope can we build upon the \nsmaller?— and a chance to that is always getting \nsmaller. Each day, as it revolves over the sinner's \nhead, finds him a harder, and a more obstinate, ana \na more helplessly enslaved sinner, than belbre. It \nwas this consideration which gave Richard Baxter \nsuch earnestness and such urgency in his \" Call.\" He \nknew that the barrier in the way of the sinner's return \nwas strengthened by every act of resistance to the call \nwhich urges it. That the refusal of this moment \nhardened the man against the next attack of a Gos- \npel argument that is brought to bear upon him. That \n-.f he attempted you now, and he failed, when he came \nback upon yoa he would find himself working on a \nmore obstinate and uncomplying subject than ever. \nAnd therefore it is that he ever feels as if the present \nwere his only opportunity. That he is now upon his \nvantage ground, and he gives every energy of his \nsoul to the great point of making the most of it. He \nwill put up with none of your evasions. He will \nconsent to none of your postponements. He will pay \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 13 \n\nrespect to none of your more convenient seasons. He \ntells you, that the matter with which he is charged \nlias all the urgency of a matter in hand. He speaka \nto you with as much earnestness as if he knew that \nyou were going to step into eternity in half an hour. \nHe delivers his message with as much solemnity as if \nhe knew that tins was your last meeting on earth, \nand that you were never to see each other till you \nstood together at the judgment-seat. He knew that \nsome mighty change must take place in you ere you \nbe fit for entering into the presence of God ; and that \nthe time in which, on every plea of duty and of inte \nrest, you should bestir yourselves to secure this, is the \npresent time. This is the distinct point he assigns to \nhimself; and the whole drift of his argument is to \nurge an instantaneous choice of the better part, by \ntelling you how you multiply every day the obstacles \nto your future repentance, if you begin not the work \nof repentance now. \n\nBefore bringing our Essay to a close we shall make \nsome observations on the mistakes concerning repent- \nance, which we have endeavored to expose, and ad- \nduce some arguments for urging on the consciences of \nour -readers tke necessity and importance of imme- \ndiate repentance. \n\n1. The work of repentance is a work which must \nbe done ere we die ; for, unless we repent, we shall all \nlikewise perish. Now, the easier this work is in our \nconception, we shall think it the less necessary to enter \nupon it immediately. We shall leok upon it as a \nwork that may be done at any time, and therefore put \nit off a little longer, and a little longer. We shall, \nperhaps, look forward to that retirement from the \nworld and its temptations which we figure old age to \n\nSax. Call, g \n\n\n\n14 1NTR0DDCTI0N. \n\nbring along with it, and falling in with the too com \nmon idea, that, the evening of life is the appropriate \nseason of preparation for another world, we shall \nthink that the author is bearing too closely and too \nurgently upon us, when, in the language of the Bible, \nhe speaks of \" to-day,\" while it is called to-day, and \nwill let us off with no other repentance than repent- \nance \"now,\" seeing that now only is the accepted \ntime, and now only the day of salvation, which he \nhas a warrant to proclaim to us. This dilatory way \nof it is very much favored by the mistaken and very \ndefective view of repentance which we have attempt- \ned to expose. We have some how or other got into \nthe delusion that repentance is nothing but sorrow; \nand were we called to fix upon the scene where this \nsorrow is likely to be felt in the degree that it is deep- \nest and most overwhelming, we would point to the \nchamber of the dying man. It is awful to think that, \ngenerally speaking, this repentance of mere sorrow is \nthe only repentance of a death-bed. Yes ! we shall \nmeet with sensibility deep enough and painful enough \nthere — with regret in all its bitterness — with terror \nmustering up its images of despair, and dwelling \nupon them in all the gloom of an affrighted imagina- \ntion ; and this is mistaken, not merely for the drapery \nof repentance, but for the very substance of it. We \nlook forward, and we count upon this — that the sins \nof a life are to be expunged by the sighing and sor \nrowing of the last days of it. We should give up this \nwretchedly superficial notion of repentance, a nd cease, \nfrom this moment, to be led astray by it. The mind \nmay sorrow over its corruptions at the very time that \nit is under the poAver of them. A man may weep \nmast bitterly over the perversities of his moral consli- \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 15 \n\nuition; but to change that constitution, under the \nworkings of the Holy Spirit, is a different affair. \n\"Now, this is the mighty work of repentance. He who \nhas undergone it is no longer the servant of sin. He \ndies unto sin, he lives unto God. A sense of the au- \nthority of God is ever present with him, to wield the \nascendancy of a great master-principle over all his \nmovements — to call forth every purpose, and to carry \nit forward, through all the opposition of sin and of \nSatan, into accomplishment. This is the grand revo- \nlution in the s£ate of the mind which repentance \nbrings along with it. To grieve because this work is \nnot done, is a very different thing from the doing of it. \nA deathbed is the very best scene for acting the first , \nbut it is the very worst for acting the second. The re- \npentance of Judas has often been acted there. We \nought to think of the work in all its magnitude, and \nnot to put it off' to that awful period when the soul is \ncrowded with other things, and has to maintain its \nweary struggle with the pains, and the distresses, \nand the shiverings, and the breathless agonies cf a \ndeathbed. \n\n2. There are two views that may be taken of the \nway in which repentance is brought about, and which- \never of them is adopted, delay carries along with it \nthe saddest infatuation. It may be looked upon as \na step taken by man as a voluntary agent, and we \nwould ask you, upon your experience of the powers \nand the performances of humanity, if a deathbed is \nthe time for taking such a step? Is this a time for a \nvoluntary being exercising a vigorous control over his \nown movements? When racked with pain, and borne \ndown by the pressure cf a sore and overwhelming \ncalamity ? Surely the greater the work of repentance \n\n\n\n16 INTRODUCTION. \n\nis, the more ease, the more time, the more freedom \nfrom suffering, is necessary for carrying itonj and, \ntherefore, addressing you as voluntary beings, as \nbeings who will and who do, we call upon you to seek \nGod early that you may find him— to haste, and make \nno delay in keeping his commandments. \n\nThe other view is, that repentance is not a self- \noriginating work in man, but the work of the Holy \nSpirit in him as the subject of its influences. This \nview is not opposite to the former. It is true that man \nwills and does at every step in the business of his sal- \nvation; and it is as true that God works in him so to \nwill and to do. Take this last view of it then. Look \non repentance as the work of God's Spirit in the soul \nof man, and we are furnished with a more impressive \nargument than ever, and set on higher vantage for \nurging you to stir yourselves, and set about it im- \nmediately. What is it that you propose ? To keep \nby your present habits, and your present indulgences, \nand build yourselves up all the while in the confidence \nthat the Spirit will interpose with his mighty power \nof conversion upon you, at the very point of time that \nyou have fixed upon as convenient and agreeable? \nAnd how do you conciliate the Spirit's answer to your \ncall then? Why, by doing all you can to grieve, and \nto quench, and to provoke him to abandon you now. \nDo you feel a motion toward repentance at this mo- \nment? If you keep it alive, and act upon it, good and \nwell. But if you smother and suppress this motion, \nyou resist the Spirit — you stifle his movements within \nyou ; it is what the impenitent do day after day, and \nyear after year — and is this the way for securing the \ninfluences of the Spirit at the time that you would \nlike them best? When you are done with the world, \n\n\n\nTNTR0DUCT10N. 17 \n\nand are looking forward to eternity because you can- \nnot help it? God says, \"My Spirit shall not always \nstrive with man.\" A good and a free Spirit he un- \ndoubtedly is, and, as a proof of it, he is now saying, \n\"Let whosoever will, come and take of the water of \nlife freely.\" He says so now, but we do not promise \nthat he will say so with effect upon your deathbeds, \nif you refuse him now. You look forward then for a \npowerful work of conversion being done upon you, and \nyet you employ yourselves all your life long in raising \nand multiplying obstacles against it You count upon \na miracle of grace before you die, and the way you \ntake to make yourselves sure of it, is to grieve and \noffend him while you live, who alone can perform the \nmiracle. O what cruel deceits will sin land us in ! \nand how artfully it pleads for a \" little more sleep, and \na little more slumber; a little more folding of the \nhands to sleep.\" We should hold out no longer, nor \nmake such an abuse of the forbearance of God : we \nshall treasure up wrath against the day of wrath if \nwe do so. The genuine effect of his geodness is to \nlead us to repentance ; let not its effect upon us be to \nharden and encourage ourselves in the ways of sin. \nWe should cry now for the clean heart and the right \nspirit; and such is the exceeding freeness of the Spirit \nof Gcd, that we shall be listened to. If we put off the \ncry till then, the same God may laugh at our calam- \nity, and mock when our fear cometh. \n\n3. Our next argument for immediate repentance is, \nthat we cannot bring forward, at any future period o! \nyour history, any considerations of a more prevailing \nor more powerfully moving influence than those we \nmay bring forward at this moment. We can tell you \nnow of the terrors cif the Lord, we can tell you now \n2* \n\n\n\n18 INTRODUCTION. \n\nof the solemn mandates which have issued from his \nthrone — and the authority of which is upon one and \nall of you. We can tell you now, that, though, in \nthis dead and darkened world, sin appears but a \nvery, trivia' affair — for every body sins, and it is \nshielded from execration by the universal countenance \nof an entire species lying in wickedness — yet it holds \ntrue of God, what is so emphatically said of him, that \nhe cannot be mocked, nor will he endure it that you \nshould not in the impunity of your wilful resistance \nto him and to his warnings. We can tell you now, \nthat he is a God of vengeance ; and though, for a \nseason, he is keeping back all the thunder of it from a \nworld that he would reclaim unto himself, yet, if you \nput all his expostulations away from you, and will not \nbe reclaimed, these thunders will be let loose upon \nyou, and they will fall on your guilty heads, armed \nwith tenfold energy, because you have not only defied \nhis threats, but turned your back on his offers of re- \nconciliation. These are the arguments by which we \nwould try to open our way to your consciences, and to \nawaken up your fears, and to put the inspiring activity \nof hope into your bosoms, by laying before you those \ninvitations which are addressed to the sinner, through \nthe peace-speaking blood of Jesus, and, in the name \nof a beseeching God, to win your acceptance of them. \nAt no future period can we address arguments more \npowerful and more affecting than these. If these ar- \nguments do not prevail upon you, we know of none \nothers by which a victory over the stubborn and un- \ncomplying will can be accomplished, or by which we \ncan ever hope to beat in that sullen front of resistance \nwherewith you now so impregnably withstand us. \nWe feel thnt, if any stout-hearted sinner shall rise \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 19 \n\nfrom the perusal of this \"Call to the Unconverted\" \nwith an unawakened conscience, and give himself up \nto wilful disobedience — we feel as if, in reference to \nhim, we had made our last discharge, and it fell \npowerless as water spilt on the ground, that cannot be \ngathered up again. Therefore it is that we speak to \nyou now as if this was our last hold of you. We feel \nas if on your present purpose hung all the prepara- \ntions of your future life, and all the rewards or all the \nhorrors of your coming eternity. We will not let you \noff with any other repentance than repentance now ; \nand if this be refused now, we cannot, with our eyes \nopen to the consideration we have now urged, that \nthe instrument we can make to bear upon you here- \nafter is not more powerful than we are wielding now, \ncoupled with another consideration w r hich we shall \ninsist upon, that the subject on which the instrument \nworketh, even the heart of man, gathers, by every \nact of resistance, a more uncomplying obstinacy than \nbefore ; we cannot, with these two thoughts in our \nmind, look forward to your future history, without \nseeing spread over the whole path of it the iron of a \nharder impenitency — the sullen gloom of a deeper \nand more determined alienation. \n\n4. Another argument, therefore, for immediate re- \npentance is, that the mind which resists a present call \nor a present reproof, undergoes a progressive harden- \ning' toward all those considerations which arm the \ncall of repentance with all its energy. It is not enough \nto say, that the instrument by which repentance is \nbrought about, is not more powerful to-morrow than \nit is to-day ; it lends a most tremendous weight to the \nargument, to say further, that the subject on which \nthis instrument is putting forth its efficiency, will op- \n\n\n\n20 INTRODUCTION. \n\npose a firmer resistence to-morrow than it does to-day. \nIt is this which gives a significancy so powerful to the \ncall of \"To-day while it is to-day, harden not your \nhearts ;\" and to the admonition of \" Knowest thou not, \nO man, that the goodness of God leadeth thee to re- \npentance; but after, thy hardness and impenitent \nheart treasurest up wrath against the day of wrath \nund revelation of the righteous judgments of God?\" \nIt is not said, either in the one or in the other of these \npassages, that, by the present refusal, you cut your- \nself off from a future invitation. The invitation may \nbe sounded in your hearing to the last half hour of \nyour earthly existence, engraved in all those charac- \nters of free and gratuitous kindness which mark the \nbeneficent religion of the New Testament. But the \npresent refusal hardens you against the power and \ntenderness of the future invitation. This is the fact \nin human nature to which these passages seem to \npoint, and it is the fact through which the argument \nfor immediate repentance receives such powerful aid \nfrom the wisdom of experience. It is this which forms \nthe most impressive proof of the necessity of plying \nthe young with all the weight and all the tenderness \nof earnest admonition, that the now susceptible mind \nmight not turn into a substance harder and more un- \ncomplying than the rock which is broken in pieces \nby the powerful application of the hammer of the \nword of God. \n\nThe metal of the human soul, so to speak, is like \nsome material substances. If the force you lay upon \nit do not break it, or dissolve it, it will beat it into \nhardness. If the moral argument by which it is plied \nnow, do not so soften the mind as to carry and to over- \npower its purposes, then, on another day, the argu- \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 21 \n\nment may be put forth in terms as impressive — but it \nfalls on a harder mind, and, therefore, with a more \nslender efficiency. If the threat, that ye who persist \nin 6in shall have to dwell with the devouring fire, and \nto lie down amid everlasting burnings, do not alarm \nyou out of your iniquities from this very moment, then \nthe same tlireat may be again cast out, and the same \nappalling circumstances of terror be thrown around it, \nbut it is all discharged on a soul hardened by its inure- \nment to the thunder of denunciations already uttered, \nand the urgency of menacing threatenings already \npoured forth without fruit and without efficacy. If \nthe voice of a beseeching God do not win upon you \nnow, and charm you out of your rebellion against him, \nby the persuasive energy of kindness, then let that \nvoice be lifted in your hearing on some future day, \nand though armed with all the power of tenderness \nit ever had, how shall it find its entrance into a heart \nsheathed by the operation of habit, that universal law. \nin more impenetrable obstinacy 1 If, with the earliest \ndawn of your understanding, you have been offered \nthe hire of the morning laborer and have refused it, \nthen the parable does not say that you are the person \nwho at the third, or sixth, or ninth, or eleventh hour, \nwill get the offer repeated to you. It is true, that the \noffer is unto all and upon all who are within reach of \nthe hearing of it. But there is all the difference in \nthe world between the impression of a new offer, and \nof an offer that has already been often heard and as \noften rejected — an offer which comes upon you with \nall the familiarity of a well-known sound that you \nhave already learned how to dispose of, and how to \nshut your every feeling against the power of its gra- \ncious invitations — an offer which, if discarded from \nyour hearts at the present moment, may come back \n\n\n\n22 LNTR0DDCT10H. \n\nupon you, but which will have to maintain a more \nunequal contest than before, with an impcnitency ever \nstrengthening, and ever gathering new hardness from \neach successive act of resistance. And thus it is that \nthe point for which we are contending is not to cany \nyou at some future period of your lives, but to carry \nyou at this moment. It is to work in you the instan- \ntaneous purpose of a firm and a vigorously sustained \nrepentance ; it is to put into you all the freshness oi \nan immediate resolution, and to stir you up to all the \nreadiness of an immediate accomplishment — it is to \ngive direction to the very first footstep you are now \nto take, and lead you to take it as the commencement \nof that holy career in which all old things are done \naway, and all things become new — it is to press it \nupon you, that the state of the alternative, at this mo- \nment, is \"now or never\" — it is to prove how fearful \ndie odds are against you, if now you suffer the call of \nrepentance to light upon your consciences, and still \nkeep by your determined posture of careless, and \nthoughtless, and thankless unconcern about God. You \nhave resisted to-day, and by that resistance you have \nacquired a firmer metal of resistance against the \npower of every future warning that may be brought \nto bear upon you. You have stood your ground \nagainst the urgency of the most earnest admonitions, \nand against the dreadfulness of the most terrifying \nmenaces. On that ground ycu have fixed yourself \nmore immovably than before ; and though on some \nfuture day the same spiritual thunder be made to play \naround you, it will not shake you out of the obstinacy \nof your determined rebellion. \n\nIt is the universal law of habit, that the feelings are \nalways getting more faintly and feebly impressed by \never} 7 repetition of the cause which excited them, and \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 23 \n\ntha* the mind i<s always getting etrongcr in its active \nresistance to the impulse of these feelings, by every \nnew deed of resistance which it performs ; and thus it \nis, that if you refuse us now, we have no other pros- \npect before us than that your course is every day \ngetting more desperate and more irrecoverable, your \nsouls are getting more hardened, the Spirit is getting \nmor**, provoked to abandon those who have so long \npersisted in their opposition to his movements. God, \nwho says that h^s Spirit shall not always strive with \nman, is getting more offended. The tyranny of habit \nis getting every day a firmer ascendancy over you; \nSatan is getting you more helplessly involved among \nhis wiles and his entanglements; the world, with all \nthe inveteracy of those desires winch are opposite to \nthe will of the Father, is more and more lording it \nover your every affection. And what, we would ask, \nwhat is the scene in which you are now purposing to \ncontest it, with all this mighty force of opposition you \nare now so busy in raising up against you ? What is \nthe field of combat to which you are now looking \nforward, as the place where you are to accomplish a \nvictory over all those formidable enemies whom you \nare at present arming with such a weight of hostility, \nas, we say, within a single hairbreadth of certainty, \nyou will find to be irresistible? O the bigness of such \na misleading infatuation 1 The proposed scene in \nI which this battle for eternity is to be fought, and this \n\\ictory for the crown of glory is to be won, is a death- \nbed. It is when the last messenger stands by the \ncouch of the dying man, and shakes at him the ter- \nrors of his grisly countenance, that the poor child of \ninfatuation thinks he is to struggle and prevail against \nall his enemies; against the unrelenting tyranny of \nhabit — against the obstinacy of his own heart, which \n\n\n\n24 INTRODUCTION. \n\nhe is now doing bo much to harden — against the \nSpirit of God who perhaps long ere now lias pro- \nnounced the doom upon him, \" He will take his own \nway, and walk in his own counsel ; I shall cease from \nstriving, and let him alone \"—against Satan, to whom \nevery day of his life he has given some fresh advan- \ntage over him, and who will not be willing to lose \nihe victim on whom he has practised so many wiles, \nand plied Avith success so many delusions. And such \nare the enemies whom you, who wretchedly calculate \non the repentance of the eleventh hour, are every day \nmustering up in greater force and formidablenesa \nagainst you ; and how can we think of letting you \ngo with any other repentance than the repentance of \nthe precious moment that is now passing over you, \nwhen we look forward to the horrors of that impressive \nscene on which you propose to win the prize of im- \nmortality, and to contest it singlehanded and alone, \nwith all the weight of opposition which you have \naccumulated against yourselves — a deathbed — a lan- \nguid, breathless, tossing, and agitated deathbed; that \nscene of feebleness, when the poor man cannot help \nhimself to a single mouthful — when he must have \nattendants to sit around him, and watch his every \n. wish, and interpret his every signal, and turn him to \nevery posture where he may find a moment's ease, \nand wipe aw?\\y the cold sweat that is running over \nhim — and ply him with cordials for thirst, and sick- \nness, and insufferable languor. And this is the time, \n\"when occupied with such feelings, and beset with \nsuch agonies as these, you propose to crowd within \nthe compass of a few wretched days the work ol \nwinding up the concerns of a neglected eternity! \n\n5. But it may be said, \"If repentance be what you \ncepresent it, a tiling of such mighty import, and sucb \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. 25 \n\nimpracticable performance, as a change of mind, in \nwhat rational way can it be made the subject of a \nprecept or injunction? you would not call upon the \nEthiopian to change his skin — you would not call \nupon the leopard to change his spots j and yet you call \nupon us to change our minds. You say, \" Repent ;\" \nand that too in the face of the undeniable doctrine, that \nman is without strength for the achievement of so \nmighty an enterprise. Can you tell us any plain and \npracticable thing that you would have us tD perform, \nand that we may perform, to help on this business?\" \nThis is the very question with which the hearers of \nJohn the Baptist came back upon him, after he had \ntold them in general terms to repent, and to bring forth \nfruits meet for repentance. He may not have resolved \nthe difficulty, but he pointed the expectation of his \ncountrymen to a greater than he for the solution of it. \nNow that Teacher has already come, and we live \nunder the full and the finished splendor of his revela- \ntion. O that the greatness and difficulty of the work \nof repentance had the effect of shutting you up into \nthe faith of Christ ! Repentance is not a paltry, super- \nficial reformation. It reaches deep into the inner man, \nbut not too deep for the searching influences of that \nSpirit which is at his giving, and which worketh \nmightily in the hearts of believers. You should go \nthen under a sense of your difficulty to Him. Seek \nto be rooted in the Savior, that you may be nourished \nout of his fulness, and strengthened by iiis might. \nThe simple cry for a clean heart, and a right spirit, \nwhich is raised from the mouth of a believer, brings \ndown an answer from on high which explains all the \ndifficulty and overcomes it. And if what we have \neaid of the extent and magnitude of repentance, should \nhave the effort to give a deeper feeling than before of \n\nBax.Call. 3 \n\n\n\n26 INTRODUCTION. \n\nthe wants under which you labor ; and shall dispose \nyou to seek after a closer and more habitual urnon \nwith Him who alone can supply them, then will our \ncall to repent have indeed fulfilled upon you the ap- \npointed end of a preparation for the Savior. But re- \ncollect now is your time, and now is your opportunity, \nfor entering on the road of preparation that leads to \nheaven. We charge you to enter this road at this \nmoment, as you value your deliverance from hell, and \nyour possession of that blissful place where you shall \nbe for ever with the Lord — we charge you not to \nparry and to delay this matter, no not for a single \nhour — we call on you by all that is great in eternity — \nby all that is terrifying in its horrors — by £.11 that ia \nalluring in its rewards — by all that is binding in the \nauthority of God — by all that is condemning in the \nee\\ erity of his violated law, and by ail that can aggra- \nvate this condemnation in the insulting contempt of \nhis rejected gospel ; — we call on you by one and ah \nof these considerations, not to hesitate, but to flee — \nnot to purpose a return for to-morrow, but to make \nan actual return this very day — to put a decisive end \nto every plan of wickedness on which you may havw \nentered — to cease your hands from all that is ibrbid- \nden — to turn them to all that is required — to betake \nyourselves to the appointed Mediator, and receive \nthrough him, by the prayer of faith, -such constant \nsupplies of the washing of regeneration and renewing \nof the Holy Ghost, that, from this moment, you may \nbe carried forward from one degree of grace unto \nanother, and from a life devoted to God here, to the \nelevation of a triumphant, and the joys of a blissfirl \neternity hereafter. T. C \n\n8t Andrew'*, October, 1825. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\nHie Text opened, . . 31 \n\nDoctrine I. — It is the unchangeable law of God, that \nwicked men must turn or die — Proved, . 34 \n\nGod will not be so unmerciful as to damn us — \nAnswered, ..... 37 \n\nThe Use, ... .40 \n\nWho are wicked men, and wnat conversion is; and \nhow we may know whether Ave are wicked or con- \nverted, ..... 43 \nApplied, ..... 50 \n\nDoct. II. — It is the promise of God that the wicked \nshall live, if they will but turn; unfeignedly and \nthoroughly turn — Proved, . . 6 \n\nDoct, III. — God taketh pleasure in men's conversion \nand salvation, but not in their death or damnation \nHe had rather they would turn and live, than go on \nand die — Expounded — Proved, . . 68 \n\nDoct. IV. — The Lord hath confirmed it to us by his \noath, That he has no pleasure in the death of th* \nwicked, but rather that he turn and live; that ht> \nmay leave roan no pretence to question the truth \nof it, 75 \n\nUse. — Who is it, then, that takes pleasure in men's \nsin and death 1 — Not God, nor ministers, nor any \ngood men, ..... 76 \n\nDoct. V. — So earnest is God for the conversion of \nsinners, that he doubleth his commands and exhor \ntations with vehemency, \"Turn ye, Turn ye,\" — \nApplied, .... 82 \n\nSome motive* t j obey God's call, and turn, 85 \n\n\n\n28 CONTEXTS. \n\nDoct. VI. — The Lord condescendeth to reason the \ncase with unconverted sinners, and ask them, Why \nthey will die? .... 9; \n\nA strange disputation; — 1. For the question. 2. \nThe disputants. \n\nWicked men will die or destroy themselves. \nUse. — The sinner's case is certainly unreasonable, 102 \nTheir seeming reasons confuted, . . 108 \n\nQuestion. — Why are men so unreasonable, and loath \n\nto turn, and will destroy themselves? — Answered, 119 \nDoct. VII. — If after all this, men will not turn, it is \nnot God's fault that they are condemned, but their \nown, even their own wilfulness. They die because \nthey will; that is, because they will not turn, 122 \n\nUse, 1. — How unfit the wicked are to charge God \nwith their damnation. It is not because God is \nunmerciful, but because they are cruel and mer- \nciless to themselves, . . . 12D \nObject. — We cannot convert ourselves, nor have \n\nwe Free-will — Answered. . . . 134 \n\nUse 2. — The subtlety of Satan, the deceitfulness of \n\nsin, and the folly of sinners manifested, . 136 \n\nUse, 3. — No w T onder if the wicked would hinder the \n\nconversion and salvation of others, . . £136 \n\nUse, 4. — Man is the greatest enemy to himself, 137 \n\nMan's destruction is of himself — Proved, . 130 \n\nThe heinous aggravations of self-destroying, . 144 \n\nThe concluding exhortation, . . . 146 \n\nTen Directions for those who had rather turn than \ndie, 151 \n\n\n\nTHE GREAT SUCCESS WHICH ATTENDED THE \nCALL WHEN FIRST PUBLISHED. \n\nIt may be proper lo prefix an account of this book given \nby Mr. Baxter himself, which was found in his study, after \nbis death, in his own words: \n\n\" I published a short treatise on conversion, entitled, A \nCall to the Unconverted. The occasion of this was my \nconverse with Bishop Usher while I was at London; who, \napproving my method and directions for Peace of Con- \nscience, was importunate with me to write directions \nsuited to the various states of Christians, and also agains* \nparticular sins. I reverenced the man, but disregardea \nthese persuasions, supposing I could do nothing but what \nis done better already: but when he was dead, his words \nwent deeper to my mind, and I purposed to obey his coun- \nsel; yet, so as that to the first sort of men, the ungodly, \n1 thought vehement persuasions meeter than directions \nonly, and so for such I published this little book, which \nGod hath blessed with unexpected success, beyond all the \nrest that I have written, except The Saint's Rest. In a \nlittle more than a year there were about twenty thousand \nof them printed by my own consent, and about ten thou- \nsand since, beside many thousands by stolen impressions, \nwhich poor men stole for lucre's sake. Through God's \nmercy I have information of almost whole households \nconverted by this small book which I set so light by; and, \nas if all this in England, Scotland, and Ireland, were not \nmercy enough to me, God, since I was silenced, hath sent \nit over in life message to many beyond the seas ; xor when \n\n\n\n30 ADVERTISEMENT. \n\nMr. Elliot bad printed all the Bible in tbe Indian language, \nbe next translated this my Call to the Unconverted, as he \nwrote to us here. And yet God would make some farther \nuse of it ; for Mr. Stoop, tbe pastor of the French Churcb \nin London, being driven hence by the displeasure of hi» \nsuperiors, was pleased to translate it into French. I hopf \nit will not be unprofitable there; nor in Germany, when \nalso it has been printed.\" \n\nIt may be proper further to mention Dr. Bates' account \nof the author, and of this useful treatise. In his sermon \nat Mr. Baxter's funeral, he thus says: 'His books of \npractical divinity have been effectual for more conver- \nsions of sinners to God than any printed in our time : and \nwhile the churcb remains on earth, will be of continual \nefficacy to recover lost souls. There is a vigorous pulse \nin thern, that keeps the reader awake and attentive. His \nCall to the Unconverted, how small in bulk, but how \npowerful in virtue ! Truth speaks in it with that authority \nand efficacy, that it makes the reader to lay his hand upon \nbis heart, and find that he has a soul and a conscience, \nthough he lived before as if he had none. He told some \nfriends, that six brothers were converted by reading that \nCall; and that every week he received letters of some \nconverted by his books. This he spake witb most hum- \nble thankfulness, that God was pleased to use him as an \ninstrument for the salvation of souls.\" \n\n\n\nA CALJL, \nTO THS UNCONVERTED. \n\n\n\nEZEKIEL, XXXIII. 11. \n\nSay unto them, As Hive, saith the Lord God, Ihavt \nno pleasure in the death of the wicked; bid thai \nthe wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye* \nturn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, \nO house of Israeli \n\nJr hath been the astonishing wonder of many a \nman as well as me, to read in the Holy Scriptures how \nfew will be saved, and that the greatest part even of \nthose that are called, will be everlastingly shut out of \nthe kingdom of heaven, and be tormented with the \ndevils in eternal fire. Infidels believe not this when \nthey read it, and therefore they must feel it ; those \nthat do believe it are forced to cry out with Paul, \n(Rom. 11. 13,) \" O the depth of the riches both of the \nwisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable \nare his judgments, and his ways past finding out !\" \nBut nature itself doth teach us all to lay the blame \nof evil works upon the doers ; and therefore when we \nsee any heinous thing done, a principle of justice doth \nprovoke us to inquire after him that did it, that the \nevil of the work may return the evil of shame upon \nthe author. If we saw a man killed and cut in pieces \nby the way, we would presently ask, Oh ! who did \nthis cruel deed? If the town was wilfully set on fire, \nyou would ask, what wicked wretch did this? So \nwhen we read that many souls will be miserable in \nhell for ever, we must needs think with ourselves, how \nsomes this to pass? and whose fault is it? Who is it \n\n\n\n32 A CALL TO Doct. 1. \n\nthat is so cruel as to be the cause of such a thing as \nihis? and we can meet with few that will own the \nguilt. It is indeed confessed by all, that Satan is the \ncause; but that doth not resolve the doubt, because \nlie is not the principal cause. He doth not force men \nto sin, but tempts them to it, and leaves it to their \nown wills whether they will do it or not. He doth not \ncarry men to an alehouse and force open their mouths \nand pour in the drink ; nor doth he hold them that \nthey cannot go to God's service ; nor doth he force \ntheir hearts from holy thoughts. It lieth therefore \nbetween God himself and the sinner ; one of them \nmust needs be the principal cause of all this misery, \nwhichever it is, for there is no other to lay it upon; \nand God disclaimeth it ; he will not take it upon him ; \nand the wicked disclaim it usually, and they will not \ntake it upon them, and this is the controversy that is \nhere managing in my text. \n\nThe Lord complaineth of the people ; and the peo- \nple think it is the fault of God. The same controversy \nis handled, chap. 18. 25: they plainly say, \" that the \nway of the Lord is not equal.\" So here they say, \nverse 19, \" If our transgressions and our sins be upon \nus, and we pine away in them, how shall we then \nlive?-' As if they should say, if we must die, and be \nmiserable, how can we help it ? as if it were not theii \nfault, but God's. But God, in my text, doth clem \nhimself of it, and telleth them how they may help h \nif they will, and persuadeth them to use the means, \nand if they will not be persuaded, he lets them know \nthat it is the fault of themselves ; and if this will not \nsatisfy them, he will not forbear to punish them. It is \nhe that will be the Judge, and he will judge them \naccording to their ways ; they are no judge of hirn \n\n\n\nOoct. I. THE UNCONVERTED. 33 \n\nor of themselves, as wanting authority, and wisdom, \nand impartiality ; nor is it tlie cavilling and quarrelling \nwith God that shall serve their turn, or save them \nfrom the execution of justice, at which they murmur. \nThe words of this verse contain, 1. God's purgation \nor clearing himself from the blame of their destruction. \nThis he doth not by disowning his law, that the \nwicked shall die, nor by disowning his judgments and \nexecution according to that law, or giving them any \nhope that the law shall not be executed ; but by pro- \nfessing that it is not their death that he takes pleasure \nin, but their returning rather, that they may live ; and \ntliis he confirmeth to them by his oath. 2. An ex- \npress exhortation to the wicked to return; wherein \nGod doth not only command, but persuade and con- \ndescend also to reason the case with them; Why will \nthey die ? The direct end of this exhortation is, that \nthey may turn and live. The secondary or reserved \nends, upon supposition that this is not attained, are \nthese two : First, To convince them by the means \nwhich he used, that it is not the fault of God if they \nbe miserable. Secondly, To convince them from \ntheir manifest wilfulness in rejecting all his commands \nand persuasions, that it is the fault of themselves, and \nthey die, even because they will die. \n\nThe substance of the text doth lie in these observa- \ntions following : — \n\nDoctrine 1 . It is the unchangeable law of God, that \nwicked men must turn or die. \n\nDoctrine 2. It is the promise of God, that the wicked \nshall live, if they will but turn. \n\nDoctrine 3. God takes pleasure in men's conversion \nand salvation, but not in their death or damnation: ho \n\n\n\n34 A CALL TO Doct. I \n\nhad rather they would return and live, than go on \nand die. \n\nDoctrine 4. This is a most certain truth, which \nbecause God would not have men to question, he hath \nconfirmed it to them solemnly by his oath. \n\nDoctrine 5. The Lord doth redouble his commands \nand persuasions to the wicked to turn. \n\nDoctrine 6. The Lord condescendeth to reason the \ncase with them ; and asketh the wicked why they \nwill die? \n\nDoctrine 7. If after all this the wicked will not turn, \nit is not the fault of God that they perish, but of them- \nselves; their own wilfulness is the cause of their \nown damnation ; they therefore die because they \nwill die. \n\nHaving laid the text open in these propositions, I \nshall next speak somewhat of each of them in order, \nthough briefly. \n\nDOCTRINE I. \n\nIt is the unchangeable laic of God, that wicked \nmen must turn, or die. \n\nIf yon will believe God, believe this : there is but \none of these two ways for every wicked man, either \nconversion or damnation. I know the wicked will \nhardly be persuaded either of the truth or equity of \nthis. No wonder if the guilty quarrel with the law. \nFew men are apt to believe that which they would \nnot have to be true, and fewer would have that to be \ntrue which they apprehended to be against, them. But \nit is not quarrelling with the law, or with the judge, \nthat will save the malefactor. Believing and regard- \ning the law, might have prevented his death ; but \ndenying and accusing it will but hasten it. If it were \n\n\n\nOocC I. THE UNCONVERTED. 85 \n\nTiot so, a hundred would bring their reason against the \nlaw, for one that would bring his reason to the law, \nand men would rather choose to give their reasons \nwhy they should not be punished, than to hear the \ncommands and reasons of their governors which re- \nquire them to obey. The law was not made for you to \njudge, but that you might be ruled and judged by it. \n\nBut if there be any so blind as to venture to ques- \ntion either the truth or the justice of this law of God, \nI shall briefly give you that evidence of both which \nmethinks, should satisfy a reasonable man. \n\nAnd first, if you ijpubt whether this be the word of \nGod, or not, besides a hundred other texts, you may \nbe satisfied by these few:— Matt. 18: 3. \"Verily I \nsay unto you, except ye be converted and become as \nlittle children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of \nGod.\" John 3:3. \" Verily, verily, I say unto you, \nexcept a man be born again he cannot see the king- \ndom of God.\" 2 Cor. 5: 17. ll If any man be in Christ, \nhe is a new creature ; old things are passed away ; \nbehold, all things are become new.\" Col. 3: 9, 10. \n\"Ye have put off the old man with his -deeds, and \nhave put on the new man, which is renewed in know- \nledge alter the image of him that, created him.' Heb. \n12: 14. \" Without holiness no man shall see the \nLord.\" Rom. 8: 8, 9. \"So then they that are in the \nflesh cannot please God. Now if any man have not the \nspirit of Christ, he is none of his.\" Gal. 6: 15. \"For \nin Christ Jesus neither circumcision availeth any \nthing, nor uncircumcibion, but a new creature.\" 1 Pet. \n1:3. \" According to hie abundant grace he hath be- \ngotten us to a lively hope.\" Ver. 23. .\"Being born \nagain, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by \nthe word of God, wnich liveth and abideth for ever.\" \n\n\n\n36 A CALL to Dact. I \n\n1 Pet. 2: 1, 2. \"Wherefore laying aside all malice. \nand all guile, and hypocrisies, and envies, and evi] \nspeaking, as new born babes, detare the sincere milk \nof the word, that ye may grow thereby.\" Psalm 9: \n17. \" The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all thr \nnations that forget God.\" Psalm 11 f 4. \"And tin. \nLord lcveth the righteous, but the wicked his sou/ \nliateth.\" \n\nAs I need not stay to open these texts which are \nso plain, so I think I need not add any more of that \nmultitude which speak the like. If thou be a man \nthat dost believe the Word of God, here is already \nenough to satisfy thee that the wicked must be con- \nverted or condemned. You are already brought so \nfar, that you must either confess that this is true, or \nsay plainly, you will not believe the word of God. \nAnd if once you be come to that pass, there is but \nsmall hopes of you : look to yourself as well as you \ncan, for it is like you will not be long out of hell. You \nwould be ready to fly in the face of him that should \ngive you the lie ; and yet dare you give the lie to \nGod? But if you tell God plainly you will not believe \nhim, blame him not if he never warn you more, or if \nhe forsake you, and give you up as hopeless ; for to \nwhat purpose should he warn you, if you will not be- \nlieve him ? Should he send an angel from heaven to \nyou, it seems you would not believe. For an angel \ncan speak but the word of God ; and if an angel should \nbring you any other gospel, you are not to receive it \nbut to hold him accursed. Gal. 1 : 8. And surely there \nis no angel to be believed before the Son of God, who \ncame from the Father to bring us this doctrine. If He \nbe not to be believed, then all the angels in heaven \nare not to be believed. And if you stand on theao \n\n\n\n0ocV i. THE UNCONVERTED. 37 \n\nterms with God, I shall leave you till he deal with you \nin a more convincing way. God hath a voice that \nwill make you hear. Though he entreat you to hear \nthe voice of Lis gospel, he will make you hear the \nvDice of his condemning sentence, without entreaty. \nWe cannot make you believe against your wills ; but \nGod will make you feel against your wills. \n\nBut let us hear what reason you have why you will \noot believe this word of God, which tells us that the \nwicked must be converted, or condemned. I know \nyour reason ; it is because that you judge it unlikely \nthat God should be so unmerciful : you think it cruelty \nto damn men everlastingly for so small a tiling as a \nsinful life. And this leads us to the second thing, \nwhich is to justify the equity of God in Ms laws and \njudgments. \n\nAnd first, I think you will not deny that it is most \nsuitable to an immortal soul to be ruled by laws that \npromise an immortal reward, and threaten an endless \npunishment. Otherwise the law should not be suited \nto the nature of the subject, who will not be fully \nruled by any lower means than the hopes or fears of \neverlasting ihings : as it is in cases of temporal pun- \nishment, if a law were now made that the most hei- \nnous crimes shall be punished with a hundred years' \ncaptivity, this might be of some efficacy, as being \n^qual to our lives. But, if there had been no other \npenalties before the flood, when men lived eight or \nnine hundred years, it would not have been sufficient, \nbecause men would know that they might have so \nmany hundred years impunity afterward. So it is \nin our present case. \n\n2. I suppose that you will confess, that the promise \nof an endless and inconceivable priory is not so unsuit- \n\nBax. Call. 4 \n\n\n\n38 A CALL TO Doct k \n\nabb to the wisdom of God, or the case of man : ana \nwhy then should you not think so of the threatening \nof an endless and unspeakable misery ! \n\n3. When you find it in the word of God that so il \nis, and so it will be, do ye think yourselves fit to con- \ntradict this word ? Will you call your Maker to the \nbar, and examine his word upon the accusation of \nfalsehood? Will you sit upon him and judge him by \nthe law of your conceits ? Are you wiser, and better, \nand more righteous than he? Must the God of heaven \ncome to school to you to learn wisdom 1 Must Infinite \nWisdom learn of folly, and Infinite Goodness be cor- \nrected by a sinner that cannot keep himself an hour \nclean? Must the Almighty stand at the bar of a \nworm? O horrid arrogancy of senseless dust! shall \never mole, or clod, or dunghill, accuse the sun of dark- \nness, and undertake to illuminate the world ? Where \nwere you when the Almighty made the laws, that \nhe did not call you to his counsel ? Surely he made \nthem before you were born, without desiring your \nadvice ; and you came into the world too late to re- \nverse them, if you could have done so great a work. \nYou should have stepped out of your nothingness and \nhave contradicted Christ when he was on earth, or \nMoses before him, or have saved Adam and his sinful \nprogeny from the threatened death, that eo there \nmight have been no need of Christ. And what if \nGod withdraw his patience and sustaining power, and \nlet you drop into hell while you are quarrelling with \nhis w T ord, will you then believe that there is a hell ? \n\n4, If sin be such an evil that it requireth the death \nof Christ for its expiation, no w-onder if it deserve our \neverlasting misery. \n\n\n\nOoct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 39 \n\n5. And if the sin of the devils deserved an endless \ntorment, why not also the sin of man ? \n\n6. And methinks you should perceive that it is not \npossible for the best of men, much less for the wicked, \nto be competent jud ges of the desert of sin. Alas ! we \nare both blind and partial. You can never know fully \nLhe desert of sin, till you fully know the evil of sin; \nand you can never fully know the evil of sin, till you \nfolly know, 1. The excellency cf the soul which it \ndeformeth. 2. And the excellency of holiness which \nit obliterates. 3. The reason and excellency of the \nlaw which it violates. 4. The excellency of the \nglory which it despises. 5. The excellency and of- \nfice of reason which it treadeth down. 6. No, nor till \nyou know the infinite excellency, al mightiness and \nholiness of that God against whom it is committed. \nWhen you fully know all these, you shall fully know \nthe desert of sin besides. You know that the offender \nis too partial to judge the law, or the proceeding of \nhis judge. We judge by feeling which blinds our \nreason. We see, in common worldly things, that most \nmen think the cause is right which is their own, and \nthat ail is wrong that is done against them ; and let \n•_he most wise or just impartial friends persuade. them \nto the contrary, and it is all in vain. There are few \nchildren but think the father is unmerciful, or dealeth \nhardly with them if he whip them. There is scarce \nthe vilest wretch but thinketh the church doth wrong \nhim if they excommunicate him : or scarce a thief or \nmurderer that is hanged, but would accuse the law \nand judge of cruelty, if that would serve their turn. \n\n7. Can you think that an unholy soul is fit for \nheaven? Alas, they cannot love God here, nor do him \nany service wmich he can accept. They are contrary \n\n\n\n40 a CALL TO Doct. 1. \n\nto God, they loathe that which he moyt loveth, and \nlove that which he abhorreth. They are incapable \nof that imperfect communion with Him which his \nsaints here partake of. How then can they live in \nihat perfect love of him, and full delight and com- \nmunion with him, which is the blessedness of heaven? \nFou do not accuse yourselves of unmerciful ness, if \nyou make not your enemy your bosom counsellor ; or \nif you take not your swine to bed and board with you : \nno, nor if you take away his life though he never sin- \nned ; and yet you will blame the absolute Lord, the \nmost wise and gracious Sovereign of the world, if he \ncondemn the unconverted to perpetual misery. \n\nUse. — I beseech you now, all that love your souk, \nthat, instead of quarrelling with God and with his \nword, you will presently receive it, and use it for your \ngood. All you that are yet unconverted, take this as the \nundoubted truth of God : — You must, ere long, be con- \nverted or condemned ; there is no other way but to \nturn, or die. When God, that cannot lie, hath told \nyou this; when you hear it from the Maker and \nJudge of the world, it is time for him that hath ears, \nto hear. By this time you may see what you have \nto trust to. You are but dead and damned men, ex- \ncept you will be converted. Should I tell you other- \nwise, I should deceive you with a lie. Should I hide \nthis from you, I should undo you, and be guilty of your \nblood, as the verses before my text assure me. — Verse \n8. \" When I say to the wicked man, O wicked man, \nthou shalt surely die ; if thou dost not speak to warn \nthe wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in \nhis iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine \nhand.\" You see then, though this be a rough and \nunwelcome doctrine, it is such as we must preach, and \n\n\n\nDoct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 41 \n\nyou must hear. It is easier to hear of hell than feel \nit. If your necessities did not require it, we wculd \nnot gall your tender ears with truths that seem so \nharsh and grievous. Hell would not be so full, if peo- \nple were but willing to know their case, and to hear \nand think of it. The reason why so few escape it, is \nbecause they strive not to enter in at the strait gate of \nconversion, and go the narrow way of holiness, while \nthey have time : and they strive not, because they are \nnot awakened to a lively feeling of the danger they \nare in ; and they are not awakened because they are \nloth to hear or think of it : and that is partly through \nfoolish tenderness and carnal self-love, and partly be- \ncause they do not well believe the word that threat- \nened it. If you will not thoroughly believe this truth, \nmethinks the weight of it should lbrce you to remem- \nber it, and it should follow you, and give you no rest \ntill you are converted. If you had b^t once /»eard \nthis word by the voice of an angel, \" Thou nvtisi be \nconverted, or condemned : turn, or die :\" would it mt \nstick in your mind, and haunt you night and day? so \nthat in your sinning you would remember it, as if the \nvoice were still in your ears, \" Turn, or die !\" O hap- \npy were your soul if it might thus work with you and \nnever be forgotten, or let you alone till it have driven \nhome your heart to God. But if you will cast it out \nby forgetfuli: ss or unbelief how can it work to your \nconversion an A salvation 1 But take this with you to \nyour sorrow, though you may put this out of 3 r our \nmind, you cannot put it out of the Bible, but there \nit will stand as a sealed truth, which you shall expe- \nrimentally know for ever, that there is no other way \nbut, \"turn, 01 die,\" \n\nwhat is the matter then that the hearts of si'J- \n\n\n\n42 A CALL TO Doct. 1 \n\nners are not pierced with such a weighty truth ? A \nman would think now, that every unconverted soul \nthat hears these words should be pricked to the heart, \nand think with himself, ' This is my own case,' ar d \nnever be quiet till he found himself converted. Believe \nit, this drowsy careless temper will not last long. Con- \nversion and condemnation are both of them awaken • \ning things, and one of them will make you feel ere \nlong. I can foretell it as truly as if I saw it with my \neyes, that either grace or hell will shortly bring these \nmatters to the quick, and make you say, \" What have \nI done? what a foolish wicked course have I taken?\" \nThe scornful and the stupid state of sinners will last \nbut a little while : as soon as they either turn or die, \nthe presumptuous dream will be at an end, and then \ntheir wits and feeling will return. \n\nBut I foresee there are two things that are likely tc \nharden the unconverted, and make me lose all my \nlabor, except they can be taken out of the way ; and \nthat is the misunderstanding on those two words, the \nwicked and turn. Some will think to themselves, \n* It is true, the wicked must turn or die ; but what is \nthat to me, I am not wicked ; though I am a sinner, \nall men arc.' Others will think, ' It is true that we \nmust turn from our evil ways, but I am turned long \nago ; I hope this is not now to do.* And thus while \nwicked men think they are not wicked, but are al- \nready converted, we lose all our labor in persuading \nthem to turn. I shall therefore, before I go any fur- \nther, tell you here who are meant by the wicked j \nand who they are that must turn or die; and also \nwhat is meant by turning, and who they are that are \ntruly converted. And this I have purposely reserved \nfor th ; s place, preferring the method that fits my end \n\n\n\nDoct.1. THE UNCONVERTED. 43 \n\nAnd here you may observe, that in the sense of the \ntext, a wicked man and a converted man are contra- \nries. No man is a wicked man that is converted ; and \nno man is a converted man that is wicked ; so that to \nbe a wicked man and to be an unconverted man, is \nall one ; and therefore in opening one, we shall open \nboth. \n\nBefore I can tell you what either wickedness or con- \nversion is, I mu^t go to the bottom, and fetch up the, \nmatter from the beginning. \n\nIt pleased the great Creator of the world to make \nihree sorts of living creatures. Angels he made pure \nspirits without flesh, and therefore he made them only \nfor heaven, and not to dwell on earth. Brutes were \nmade flesh, without immortal souls, and therefore \nthey were made only for earth, and not for heaven. \nMan is of a middle nature, between both, as partak- \ning of both flesh and spirit, and therefore he was made \nboth for heaven and earth. But as his flesh is made \nto be but a servant to his spirit, so is he made for earth \nbut as his passage or way to heaven, and not that this \nshould be his home or happiness. The blessed state \nthat man was made for, was to behold the glorious \nmajesty of the Lord, and to praise him among his \nHoly Angels, and to love him, and to be filled with \nhis love for ever. And as this was the end that man \nwas made for, so God did give him means that were \nfitted to the attaining of it. These means were prin- \ncipally two : First, the right inclination and disposi- \ntion of the mind of man. Secondly, The right order- \ning of his life and practice. For the first, God suited \nthe disposition of man unto his end, giving him such \nknowledge of God as was fit for his present state, and \na heart disposed and inclined to God in holy love. But \n\n\n\n44 A CALL TO Doct - \n\nyet he did not fix or confirm him in this condition, but, \nhaving made him a free agent, lie left him in the \nhands of his own free will. For the second, God did \nthat which belonged to him ; that is, he gave him a \nperfect law, required him to continue in the love of \nGod, and perfectly to obey him. By the wilful breach \nof this law, man did not only forfeit his hopes of ever- \nlasting life, but also turned his heart from God, and \nfixed it on these lower fleshly things, and hereby blot- \nted out the spiritual image of God from his soul ; so \nthat man did both fall short of the glory of God, which \nwas his end, and put himself out of the way by which \nhe should have attained it, and this both as to the \nframe of his heart, and of his life. The holy inclina- \ntion and love of his soul to God, he lost, and instead \nof it he contracted an inclination and love to the plea- \nsing of his flesh, or carnal self, by earthly things ; \ngrowing strange to God and acquainted with the \ncreature. And the course of this life was suited to \nthe bent and inclination of his heart ; he lived to his \ncarnal self, and not to God ; he sought the creature, \nfor the pleasing of his flesh, instead of seeking to please \nthe Lord. With this nature or corrupt inclination, \nwe are all now born into the world ; \" for who can \nbring a clean thing out of an unclean ?\" Job, 14 : 4. \nAs a lion hath a fierce and cruel nature before he doth \ndevour; and an adder hath a venomous nature before \nshe sting, so in our infancy we have those sinful na- \ntures or inclinations, before we think, or speak, or do \namiss. And hence springeth all the sin of our lives; \nand not only so, but when God hath, of his mercy, pro- \nvided us a remedy, even the Lord Jesus Christ, to be \nthe Savior of our souls, and bring us back to God \nagain, we naturally love our present state, and are \n\n\n\nDoct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 45 \n\nloth to be brought out of it, and therefore are set \nagainst the means of our recovery: and though cus- \ntom hath taught us to thank Christ for his good-will, \nj r et carnal self persuades us to refuse his remedies, and \nto desire to be excused when we are commanded to \ntake the medicines which he offers, and are called to \nforsake all and follow him to God and glory. \n\nI pray you read over this leaf again, and mark it ; \nfor in these few words you have a true description of \nour natural state, and consequently of wicked man ; \nfor every man that is in the state of corrupted nature \nis a wicked man, and in a state of death. \n\nBy this also you are prepared. to understand what \nit is to be converted : to which end you must further \nknow, that the mercy of God, not willing that man \nshould perish in his sin, provided a remedy, by caus- \ning his Son to take our nature, and being, in one per- \nson, God and man, to become a mediator between \nGod and man ; and by dying for our sins on the cross, \nto ransom us from the curse of God and the power of \nthe devil. And having thus redeemed us, the Father \nhath delivered us into his hands as his own. Here- \nupon the Father and the Mediator do make a new \nlaw and covenant for man, not like the first, which \ngave life to none but the perfectly obedient, and con- \ndemned man for every sin ; but Christ hath made a \nlaw of grace, or a promise of pardon and everlasting \nlife to all that, by true repentance, and by faith in \nChrist, are converted unto God ; like an act of oblivion, \nwhich is made by a prince to a company of rebels, on \ncondition they will lay down their arms and come in \nand be loyal subjects for the time to come. \n\nBut, because the Lord knoweth that the heart of \nman is grown so wicked, that, for all this, men will \n\n\n\n46 A CALL TO Oot/L 1 \n\nnot accept of the remedy if they be left to themselves \ntherefore the Holy Ghost hath undertaken it as hia \noffice to inspire the Apostles, and seal the Scriptures \nby miracles and wonders, and to illuminate and con- \nvert the souls of the elect. \n\nSo by this much you see, that as there are three \npersons in the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the \nHoly Ghost, so each of these persons have their several \nworks, which are eminently ascribed to them. \n\nThe Father's works were, to create us, to rule us, \nas his rational creatures, by the law of nature, and \njudge us thereby; and in mercy to provide us a Re- \ndeemer when we were lost ; and to send his Son, and \naccept his ransom. \n\nThe works of the Son for us were these : to ransom \nand redeem us by his suffering and righteousness; ; to \ngive out the promise or law of grace, and rule and \njudge the world as their Redeemer, on terms of grace : \nand to make intercession for us, that the benefits of his \ndeath may be communicated ; and to send the Holy \nGhost, which the Father also doth by the Son. \n\nThe works of the Holy Ghost, for us, are these : to \nindite the Holy Scriptures, by inspiring araJ guiding \nthe Apostles, and sealing the word, by his miraculous \ngifts and works, and the illuminating and exciting the \nordinary ministers of the gospel, and so enabling them \nand helping them to publish that word; and by the \nsame word illuminating and converting the souls of \nmen. So that as you could not have been reasonable \ncreatures, if the Father had not created you, nor have \nhad any access to God, if the Son bad not died, so \nneither can you have a part in Christ, or be saved, \nexcept the Holy Ghost do sanctify you. \n\nSo that by this time you may see the several causes \n\n\n\nDoct. 1. TOE UNCONVERTED. 47 \n\nof this work. The Father sendeth the Son : the Son \nredeemeth us and maketh the promise of grace : the \nHoly Ghost inditeth and sealeth this Gospel: the \nApostles are the secretaries of the Spirit to write it: \nthe preachers of the Gospel to proclaim it, and per- \nsuade men to open it : and the Holy Ghost doth make \ntheir preaching effectual, by opening the hearts of \nmen to entertain it. And all this to repair the image \nof God upon the soul, and to ml the heart upon God \nagain, and take it off the creature and carnal self to \nwhich it is revolted, and so to turn the current of the \nlife Into a heavenly course, which before was earthly ; \nand through this, embracing Christ by faith, who is \nme Physician of the soul. \n\nBy what I have said, you may see what it is to be \nwicked, and what it is to be converted ; which, I think, \nwill yet be plainer to you, if I describe them as con- \nsisting of their several parts^ And fcr the first, a wicked \nman may be known by these three things : \n\nFirst, He is one who placeth his chief affections on \ngarth, and loveth the creature more than God, and \nhis fleshly prosperity above the heavenly felicity. He \nsavoreth the things of the flesh, but neither discern- \neth n&r savoreth the things of the Spirit; though he \nwill say, that heaven is better thars earth, yet he doth \nnot really so esteem it to himself. If he might be sure \nof earth, he would let go heaven, and had rather stay \nhere than be removed thither. A life of perfect holi- \nness in the sight of God, and in his love and praisea \nfor ever in heaven, doth not find such liking with his \nheart as a life of health, and wealth, and honor here \nupon earth. And though he falsely profess thai he \nloves God above all, yet indeed he never felt the power \nof divine love within him, but his mind is more set on \n\n\n\n48 A CALL TO Doci. I \n\nworldly or fleshly pleasures than on God. In a word, \nwhoever loves earth above heaven, and fleshly pros- \nperity more than God, is a wicked unconverted man. \n\nOn the other hand, a converted man is illuminated \nto discern the loveliness of God, and so far believeth \nthe glory that is to be had with God, that his heart \nis taken up with it and set more upon it than any \nthing in this world. He had rather see the face of \nGod, and live in his ev^iasting love and praises, than \nhave all the wealth or pleasures of the world. He \nseeth that all things else are vanity, and nothing but \nGod can fill the soul ; and therefore let the world go \nwhich way it will, he layeth up his treasures and \nhopes in heaven, and for that he is resolved to let go \nall. As the fire doth mount upward, and the needle \nthat is touched with the loadstone still turns to the \nnorth, so the converted soul is inclined unto God. No- \nthing else can satisfy him : nor can he find any con- \ntent and rest but in his love. In a word, all that are \nconverted do esteem and love God better than all the \ntcorld, and the heavenly felicity is dearer to them \nthan their fleshly prosperity. The proof of what I \nhave said you may find in these places of Scriptures: \nPhil. 3: 18, 21. Matt. 6 : 19, 20, 21. Col. 3 : 1, 4. \nRom. 8 : 5, 9, 18, 23. Psalm 73 : 25, 26. \n\nSecondly, A wicked man is one that makes ft the \nprincipal business of his life to prosper in the world, \nand attain his fleshly ends. And though he may read, \nand hear, end do much in the outward duties oC reli- \ngion, and forbear disgraceful sins, yet this is all but \nby-the-by, and he never makes it the principal busi- \nness of his life to please God, and attain everlast- \ning glory, and puts off God with the leavings of the \nworld, and gives him no more service than the flesh \n\n\n\nDoct L THE UNCONVERTED. 40 \n\ncan spare, for he will not part with all for heaven. \n\nOn the contrary, a converted man is one that makes \nit the principal care and business of his life to please \nGod, and to be saved, and takes all the blessings of \nthis life but as accommodations in his journey toward \nanother life, and useth the creature in subordination \nto God j he loves a holy life, and longs to be more \nholy ; he hath no sin but what he hateth, and longeth, \nand prayeth, and striveth to be rid of. The drift and \nbent of his life is for God, and if he sin, it is contrary \nto the very bent of his heart and life ; and therefore he \nriseth again and lamenteth it, and dares not wilfully \nlive in any imown sin. There is nothing in this world \ngo dear to him but he can. give it up to God, and for- \nsake it for him and the hopes of glory. AH this you \nmay see in Col. 3 : 1, 5. Matt. 6 : 20, 33. Luke, 18 : \n22, 23, 29. Luke, 14 : 18, 24, 26, 27. Rom. 8 : 13. \nGal. 5 : 24. Luke 12 : 21, &c. \n\nThirdly, The soul of a wicked man did never truly \ndiscern and relish the mystery of redemption, nor \nthankfully entertain an offered Savior, nor is he taken \nup with the love of the Redeemer, nor willing to be \nruled by him as the Physician of his soul, that he may \nbe saved from the guilt and power of his sins, and re- \ncovered to God ; but his heart is insensible of this un- \nspeakable benefit, and is quite against the healing \nmeans by which he should be recovered. Though he \nmay be willing to be outwardly religious, yet he never \nresigns up Ins soul to Christ, and to the motions and \nconduct of his word and Spirit. \n\nOn the contrary, the converted soul having felt \nhimself undone by sin, and perceiving that he hath \nlost his peace with God and hopes of heaven, and is in \ndanger of everlasting misery, doth tliankfallv enter- \n\nBas. Call. s \n\n\n\n50 A CALL TO Doct. 1 \n\ntain the tidings of redemption, and believing in the \nLord Jesus as his only Savior, resigns himself up to \nhim for wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and re- \ndemption. He takes Christ as the life of his soul, and \nlives by him, and uses him as a salve for every sore, \nadmiring the wisdom and love of God in this wonder- \nful work of man's redemption. In a word, Christ doth \neven dwell in his heart by faith, and the life that he \nnow liveth, is by the faith of the Son of God, that \nloved him, and gave himself for him ; yea, it is not so \nmuch he that liveth, as Christ in him. For these, \nsee Job, 1 : 11, 12; and 3 : 19, 20. Rom. 8 : 9. Phil. \n3 : 7, 10. Gal. 2 : 2Q. Job, 15 : 2, 3, 4. 1 Cor. 1 : 20. \n2:2. \n\nYou see now, in plain terms from the Word of God, \nwho are the wicked and who are the converted. Igno- \nrant people think, that if a man be no swearer, nor \ncurser, nor railer, nor drunkard, nor fornicator, nor ex- \ntortioner, nor wrong any body in his dealings, and if \nhe come to church and say his prayers, he cannot be \na wicked man. Or if a man that hath been guilty \nof drunkenness, swearing, or gaming, or the like vices, \ndo but forbear them for the time to come, they think \nthat this is a converted man. Others think if a man \nthat hath been an enemy, and scorner at godliness, \ndo but approve it, and be hated for it by the wicked, \nas the godly are, that this must needs be a converted \nman. And some are so foolish as to think that they \nare converted by taking up some new opinion, and \nfalling into some dividing party. And some think, \nif they have but been affrighted by the fears of hell, \nand had convictions of conscience, and thereupon \nhave purposed and promised amendment, and take up \na life of civil behavior and outward religion, that this \n\n\n\nDoct. 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 51 \n\nmust needs be true conversion. And these are the \npoor deluded souls that are like to lose the benefit of \nall our persuasions j and when they hear that the \nwicked must turn or die, they think that this is not \n3poken to them, for they are not wicked, but are turned \nalready. And therefore it is that Christ told some of \nthe rulers of the Jews who were greater and more \ncivil than the common people, that \" publicans and \nharlots go into the kingdom of Christ before them.\" \nMatt. 21 : 31. Not that a harlot, or gross sinner can \nbe saved without conversion ; but because it was easier \nto make these gross sinners perceive their sin and mi- \nsery, and the necessity of a change, than the more \ncivil sort, who delude themselves by thinking that \nthey are converted already, when they are not. \n\nO sirs, conversion is another kind of work than most \nare aware of. It is not a small matter to bring an \nearthly mind to heaven, and to show man the amiable \nexcellence of God, till he be taken up in such love to \nhim that can never be quenched ; to break the heart \nfor sin, and make him fly for refuge to Christ, and \nthankfully embrace him as the life of his soul ; to have \nthe very drift and bent of the heart and life changed ; \nso that a man renounceth that which he took for his \nfelicity, and placeth his felicity where he never did \nbefore, and lives not to the same end, and drives not \non the same design in the world, as he formerly did. \nIn a word, he that is in Christ is a \" new creature : \nold things are passed aAvay : behold, all things are \nbecome new.\" 2 Cor. 5 : 17. He hath a new under- \nstanding, a new will and resolution, new sorrows, and \ndesires, and love, and delight; new thoughts, new \nspeeches, new company, (if possible,) and a new con- \nversation. Sin, that before was a jesting matter witj? \n\n\n\n52 A CALL TO Doct. 1 \n\nhim. is now so odious and terrible to him that he flies \nfrom it as from death. The world, that was so lovely \nin his eyes, doth now appear but as vanity and vexa- \ntion : God, that was before neglected, is now the only \nhappiness of his soul : before he was forgotten, and \nevery lust preferred before him, but now he is set next \nthe heart, and all things must give place to him ; the \nheart is taken up in the attendance and observance \nof him, is grieved when he hides his face, and never \nthinks itself well without him. Christ himself, that \nwas wont to be slightly thought of, is now his only \nhope and refuge, and he lives upon him as on his \ndaily bread ; he cannot pray without him, nor rejoice \nwithout him, nor think, nor speak, nor live without \nhim. Heaven itself, that before was looked upon but \nas a tolerable reserve, which he hoped might serve \nhis turn better than hell, when lie could not stay any \nlonger in the world, is now taken for his home, the \nplace of his only hope and rest, where he shall see, \nand love, and praise that God that hath his heart al- \nready. Hell, that did seem before but as a bugbear \nto frighten men from sin, doth now appear to be a real \nmisery that is not to be ventured on, nor jested with. \nThe works of holiness, of which before he was weary, \nand thought to be more than needful, are now both hie \nrecreation, and his business, and the trade that he live? \nupon. The Bible, which was before to him but almost \nas a common book, is now as the law of God ; as a let- \nter written to him, and subscribed with the name of \nthe Eternal Majesty ; it is the rule of his thoughts, \nand words, and deeds ; the commands are binding, the \nthreats are dreadful, and the promises of it speak life \nto his soul. The godly, that seemed to him but like \nother men. are new the most excellent and happy on \n\n\n\nFlact i. THE UNCONVERTED. 53 \n\nearth. And the wicked that were his playfellows are \nnow his grief; and he that could laugh at their sins \nis readier now to weep for their sin and misery, and \nto say with those of eld, (Psalm 16 : 3 ; 15 : 4. Phil. \n3 : 18.) \" But to the saints that are in the earth, and to \nthe excellent, in whom is all my delight.\" \" In whose \neyes a vile person is contemned ; but he honoreth them \nthat fear the Lord : he that sweareth to his own hurt, \nand changeth not.\" \" For many walk, of whom I \nhave told you often, and now tell you, even weeping, \nthat they are the enemies of the cross of Christ.\" In \nshort, he hath a new end in his thoughts, and a new \nway in his endeavors, and therefore his heart and life \nare new. Before, his carnal self was his end, and his \npleasure and worldly profits and credit were his way ; \nand now God and everlasting glory are his end, and \nChrist, and the Spirit, and word, and ordinances. Ho- \nliness to God, and righteousness and mercy to men, \nthese are his way. Before, self was the chief ruler, \nto which the matters of God and conscience must \nBtoop and give place ; and now God, in Christ, by the \nSpirit, word and ministry, is the chief ruler, to whom \nboth self and all the matters of self must give place. \nSo that this is not a change in one, or two, or twenty \npoints, but in the whole soul, and in the very end and \nbent of the conversation. A man may step out of one \npath into another, and yet have his face the same \nway, and be still going toward the same place j but it \nis another matter to turn quite back, and take his \njourney quite the contrary way, to a contrary place. \nSo it is here ; a man may turn from drunkenness, and \nforsake other gross disgraceful sins, and set upon some \nduties of religion, and yet be still going to the same end \nas before, loving his carnal self above all, and giving \n5* \n\n\n\n&4 A CALL TG Doct 1. \n\nit still the government of his soul ; but when he is con- \nverted, this self is denied, and taken down, and God is \nset up, and his face is turned the contrary way : and \nhe that before was addicted to himself, and lived to \nhimself, is now, by sanctification, devoted to God, and \nliveth unto God. Belbre, he asked himself what he \nshould do with his time, his parts, and his estate, and \nfor himself he used them ; but now he asketh God \nwhat he shall do with them, and useth them for him. \nBefore, he would please God so far as might accord \nwith the pleasure of his flesh and carnal self, but not \nto any great displeasure of them ; but now he will \nplease God, let flesh and self be never so much dis- \npleased. This is the great change that God will make \nupon all that shall be saved. \n\nYou can say, that the Holy Ghost is our sanctifier ; \nbut do you know what sanctification is ? Why, this \nis what I have now opened to you ; and every man \nand woman in the world must have this, or be con- \ndemned to everlasting misery. They must turn or die. \n\nDo you believe all this, sirs, or do you not ? Surely \nyou dare not say you do not ; for it is past a doubt or \ndenial. These are not controversies, where one learned \npious man is of one mind, and another of another; \nwhere one party saith this, and the other saith that. \nEvery sect among us that deserve to be called Chris- \ntians are all agreed in this that I have said ; and if \nyou will not believe the God of truth, and that in a \ncase where every sect and party do believe him, you \nare utterly inexcusable. \n\nBut if you do believe this, how comes it to pass that \nyou live so quietly in an unconverted state ? Do you \nknow that you are converted ? and can you find thia \nwonderful change upon your souls ? Have you beei? \n\n\n\nDock 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 55 \n\nthus bora again, and made new? Are not these \nstrange matters to many of you, and such as you \nnever felt within yourselves? If you cannot tell the \nday or week of your change, or the very sermon that \nconverted you, yet do you find that the work is done, \nthat such a change indeed there is, and that you have \nsuch hearts as are before described ? Alas ! the most \ndo fellow their worldly business, and little trouble their \nminds with such thoughts. And if they be restrained \nfrom scandalous sins, and can say, \" I am no whore- \nmonger, nor thief, nor curser, nor swearer, nor tippler, \nnor extortioner ; I go to church, and say my prayers ;\" \nthey think that this is true conversion, and they shall \nbe saved as well as any. Alas ! this is foolish cheat- \ning of yourselves. This is too much contempt of an \nendless glory, and too gross neglect of your immortal \nsouls. Can you make so light of heaven and hell ? \nYour corpse will shortly lie in the dust, and angels or \ndevils will presently seize upon your souls; and every \nman or woman of you all will shortly be among other \ncompany, and in another case than now you are. \nYou will dwell in these houses but a little longer ; you \nwill work in your shops and fields but a little longer; \nyou will sit in these seats and dwell on this earth but \na little longer ; you will see with these eyes, and hear \nwith these ears, and speak with these tongues, but a \nlittle longer, till the resurrection-day; and can you \nmake shift to forget this? what a place will you \nshortly be in of joy or torment ! what a sight will \nyou shortly see in heaven or hell ! O what thoughts \nwill shortly fill your hearts with unspeakable delight \nor horror ! What work will you be employed in ! to \npraise the Lord with saints and angels, or to cry out \nin fire unquenchable, with devils ; and should all this \n\n\n\n56 A CALL TO Doct. L \n\nbe forgotten ? And all this will be endless, and sealed \nup by an unchangeable decree. Eternity, eternity \nwill be the measure of your joys or sorrows : and can \nthis be forgotten ? And all this is true, sirs, most cer- \ntainly true. When you have gone up and down a \nlittle longer, and slept and awaked a few times more, \nyou will be dead and gone, and find ail true that now \nI tell you : and yet can you now so much forget it ? \nYou shall then remember that you had this call, and \nthat, this day, in this place, you were reminded of \nthese things, and perceive them matters a thousand \ntimes greater than either you or I could here conceive ; \nand yet shall they be now so much forgotten ? \n\nBeloved friends, if the Lord had not awakened me \nto believe and to lay to heart these things myself, I \nshould have remained in a dark and selfish state, and \nhave perished for ever ; but if he have truly made me \nsensible of them, it will constrain me to compassionate \nyou as well as myself. If your eyes were so far opened \nas to see hell, and you saw your neighbors that were \nunconverted dragged thither with hideous cries; \nthough they were such as you accounted honest peo- \nple on earth, and feared no such danger themselves, \nsuch a sight would make you go home and think ot \nit, and think again, and make you warn all about you, \nas that lost worldling, Luke 16 : 28, would have had \nhis brethren warned, lest they come to that place ot \ntorment. Why, faith is a kind of sight ; it is the eye \nof the soul, the evidence of things not seen. If I be- \nlieve God, it is next to seeing ; and therefore I beseech \nyou excuse me if I be half as earnest with you about \nthese matters as if I had seen them. If I must die \nto-morrow, and it were in my power to come again \nfrom another world, and tell you what I had seen, \n\n\n\nDoeu 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 5*3 \n\nwould you not be willing to hear me? and would you \nnot believe, and regard what I should tell you 1 If I \nmight preach one sermon to you after I am dead, and \nhave seen what is done in the world to come, would \nyou not have me plainly speak the truth, and would \nyou not crowd to hear me, and would you not lay it \nto heart? But this must not be; God hath his ap- \npointed way of teaching you by Scriptures and mi- \nnisters, and he will not humor unbelievers so far as to \nsend men from the dead to them, and alter his esta- \nblished way; if any man quarrel with the sun, God \nwill not humor him so far as to set up a clearer light. \nFriends, I beseech you regard me now as you would \ndo if I should come from the dead to you ; for I can \ngive you as full assurance of the truth of what I say \nto you as if I had been there and seen it with my \neyes ; for it is possible for one from the dead to deceive \nyou; but Jems Christ can never deceive you; the \nWord of God delivered in Scripture, and seaied by \nmiracles, and holy workings of the Spirit, can never \ndeceive you. Believe this or believe nothing. Be- \nlieve and obey tins, or you are undone. Now, as ever \nyou believe the word of God, and as ever you care \nfor the salvation of your souls, let me beg of you this \nreasonable request, and I beseech you deny me not : \nThat you would now remember what has been said, \nand enter into an earnest search of your hearts, and \nsay to yourselves — Is it so indeed ; must I turn or die? \nMust I be converted or condemned ? It is time for me \nthen to look about me before it be too late. O why did \nnot I look after this till now 7 Why did I venturously \nput off or neglect so great a business ? Was I awake, \nor in my wits ? O blessed God, what a mercy 13 it \nthat thou didst not cut off my life all this while, be- \n\n\n\n58 A CALL TO Doct. L \n\nore I had any certain hope of eterr.al life ! Well, \nGod forbid that I should neglect this work any longer. \nWhat state is my soul in ? Am I converted, or am I \nnot ? Was ever such a change or work done upon my \nsoul ? Have I been illuminated by the word and \nSpirit of the Lord to see the odiousness of sin, th« \nneed of a Savior, the love of Christ, and the excel- \nlences of God and glory ? Is my heart broken or hum- \nbled within me for my former life ? Have I thank- \nfully entertained my Savior and Lord that offered \nhimself with pardon and life for my soul ? Do I hate \nmy former sinful life and the remnant of every sin \nthat is in me ? Do I fly from them as my deadly ene- \nmies? Do I give up myself to a life of holiness and \nobedience to God? Do 1 love it and delight in it? \nCan I truly say that I am dead to the world, and car- \nnal self, and that I live for God and the glory which \nhe hath promised ? Hath heaven more of my esti- \nmation and resolution than earth? And is God the \ndeadest and highest in my soul ? Once, I am sure, I \nlived principally to the world and flesh, and God had \nnothing but some heailless services, which the world \ncould spare, and which were the leavings of the flesh. \nIs my heart now turned another way ? Have I a new \ndesign and a new end, and a new train of holy affec- \ntions ? Have I set my hopes and heart in heaven 1 \nAnd is it not. the scope, and design, and bent of my \nheart, to get well to heaven, and see the glorious face \nof God, and live in his love and praise ? And when \nI sin, is it against the habitual bent and design of my \nheart? And do I conquer all gross sins, and am 1 \nweary and willing to be rid of my infirmities? This \nis the state of converted souls. And thus it must be \nwith me, or I must perish. Is it thus with me indeed, \n\n\n\nDoct 1. THE UNCONVERTED. 59 \n\nor is it not ? It is time to get this doubt resolved, be- \nfore the dreadful Judge resolve it. I am not such a \nstranger to my own heart and life, but I may some- \nwhat perceive whether I am thus converted or not : if \nI be not, it w r ill do me no good to natter my soul with \nfalse conceits and hopes. I am resolved no more to \ndeceive myself, but endeavor to know truly whether \nI be converted or not : that if I be, I may rejoice in it, \nand glorify my gracious Lord, and comfortably go on \ntill I reach the crown : and if I am not, I may set my- \nself to beg and seek after the grace that should con- \nvert me, and may turn without any more delay. For, \nif I mid in time that I am out of the way, by the help \nof Christ I may turn and be recovered ; but if I stay \ntill either my heart be forsaken of God in blindness or \nhardness, or till I be catched away by death, it is then \ntoo late. There is no place for repentance and con- \nversion then ; I know it must be now or never. \n\nSirs, this is my request to you, that you will but \n*ake your hearts to task, and thus examine them till \nyou see, if it may be, whether you are converted or \nnot? And if you cannot find it out by your own en- \ndeavors, go to your ministers, if they be faithful and \nexperienced men, and desire their assistance. The \nmatter is great ; let not bashfulness, nor carelessness \nhinder you. They are set over you, to advise you, for \nthe saving of your soul, as physicians advise you for \nthe curing of your bodies. It undoes many thousands \nthat they think they are in the way to salvation when \nthey are not ; and think that they are converted when \nit is no such thing. And then when we call to them \ndaily to turn, they go away as they came, and think \nthat this concerns not them ; for they are turned al- \nready, and hope they shall do well enough in the way \n\n\n\n60 A CALL TO Doct. I \n\nthat they are in, at least if they pick the fairest path, \nand avoid some of the foulest steps, when, alas! all \nthis while they live but to the world and flesh, and \nare strangers to God and eternal life ; and are quite \nout of the way to heaven. And all this- because we \ncannot persuade them to a few serious thoughts of \ntheir condition, and to spend a few hours in the ex- \namining of their states. Are there net many self- \ndeceivers who hear me this day, that never bestowed \none hour, or quarter of an hour, in all their lives, to \nexamine their souls, and try whether they are truly \nconverted or not 7 O merciful God, that will care for \nsuch wretches that care no more for themselves, and \nthat will do so much to save them from hell, and help \nthem to heaven, who will do so little for it themselves ! \nIf all that are in the way to hell, and in the state of \ndamnation, did but know it, they durst not continue \nin it. The greatest hope that the devil hath of bring- \ning you to damnation without a rescue, is by keeping \nyou blindfold, and ignorant of your state, and making \nyou believe that you may do well enough in the way \nthat you are in. If you knew that you were out of \nthe way to heaven, and were lost for ever if you should \ndie as you are, durst you sleep another night in the \nstate that you are in ? Durst you live another day in \nit ? Could you heartily laugh, or be merry in such a \nstate ? What ! And not know but you may be snatch- \ned away to hell in an hour? Sure it would constrain \nyou to forsake your former company and courses, and \nto betake yourselves to the ways of holiness and the \ncommunion of saints. Sure it would drive you to cry \nto God for a new heart, and to seek help of those that \nare fit to counsel you. There are none of you that \ncare for bein? damned. Well, then I beseech you \n\n\n\nDoct- 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 61 \n\npresently make inquiry into your hearts, and give \nthem no rest till you find out your condition, that if it \nbe good, you may rejoice in it, and go on ; and if it be \nbad, you may presentty look about you for recovery, \nas men that believe they must turn or die. What say \nyou, sirs, will you resolve and promise to be at thus \nmuch labor for your own souls ? Will you now enter \nupon this self-examination ? Is \"ny request unreason- \nable ? Your consciences know it is not. Resolve on \nit then, before you stir ; knowing how much it con- \ncerneth your souls. I beseech you, for the sake of that \nGod that doth command you, at whose bar you will \nall shortly appear, that you do not deny me this rea- \nsonable request. For the sake of tiuse souls that must \nturn or die, I beseech you deny me not ; but make it \nyour business to understand your own conditions, and \nbuild upon sure ground, and know whether you are \nconverted or not ; and venture not your souls on negli- \ngent security. \n\nBut oerhaps you will say, ' What if we should find \nourselves yet unconverted, what shall we do then V \nThis question leads me to my second Doctrine, which \nWill do much to the answering of it, to which I now \nproceed. \n\nDOCTRINE II. \n\nIt is the promise of God, that the wicked shall live, \nif they will but turn — unfeignedly and thorough- \nly iurn. \n\nThe Lord here professeth that this is what he takes \npleasure in, that the wicked turn and live. Heaven \nis made as sure to the converted, as hell is to the un- \nconverted. Turn and live, is as certain a truth as \n\nBax. CaJ>. et \n\n\n\n62 A CALL TO Doct. 2. \n\nturn or die. God was not bound lo provide us a Sa- \nvior, nor open to us a door of hope, nor call us to re- \npent and turn, when once we had cast ourselves away \nby sin. But he hath freely done it to magnify his \nmercy. Sinners, there are none of you shall have \ncause to go home, and say 1 preach desperation to \nyou. Do we use to shut the door of mercy against \nyou 1 O that you would not shut it up against your- \nselves ! Do we use to tell you that God will have no \nmercy on you, though you turn and be sanctified ? \nWhen did you ever hear a preacher say such a word ? \nYou that cavil at the preachers of the Gospel for de- \nsiring to keep you out of hell, and say, that they \npreach desperation ; tell me if you can ; when did }>-ou \never hear any sober man say, that there is no hope \nfor you, though you repent, and be converted ? No, it \nis the direct contrary that we daily proclaim from the \nLord ; and whoever is born again, and by faith and \nrepentance doth become a new creature, shall cer- \ntainly be saved ; and so far are we from persuading \nyou to despair of this, that we persuade you not to \nmake any doubt of it. It is life, not death, that is the \nfirst part of our message to you; our commission is to \noffer salvation, certain salvation ; a speedy, glorious, \neverlasting salvation, to every one of you ; to the poor- \nest beggar as well as the greatest lord; to the worst \nof you, even to drunkards, swearers, worldlings, thieves, \nyea, to the despisers and reproachers of the holy way \nof salvation. We are commanded by the Lord our \nMaster to offer you a pardon for all that is past, if you \nwill but now at last return and live ; we are com- \nmanded to beseech and entreat you to accept the offer, \nand return ; to tell you what preparation is made by \nChrist; what mercy stays for you; what patience \n\n\n\nDoct. 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 05 \n\nwaketh for you ; what thoughts of kindness God hath \ntoward you ; and how happy, how certainly and un- \nspeakably happy you may be if you will. We have \nindeed also a message of wrath and death, yea, of a \ntwofold wrath and death ; but neither of them is our \nprincipal message. We must tell you of the wrath \nthat is on you already, and the death that you are \nhorn under, for the breach of the law of works ; but \nthis is but to show you the need of mercy, and to \nprovoke you to esteem the grace of the Redeemer. \nAnd we tell you nothing but the truth, which you \nmust know ; for who will seek for physic that knows \nnot that he is sick ? Our telling you of your misery- \nis not that which makes you miserable, but driveth \nyou out to seek for mercy. It is you that have brought \nihis death upon yourselves. We tell you also of an- \nother death, even remediless, and much greater tor- \nment, that will fall on those that will not be converted. \nBut as this is true, and must be told you, so it is but \nthe last and saddest part of our message. We are \nfirst to offer you mercy, if you will turn ; and it is only \nthose that will not turn, nor hear the voice of mercy, \nto whom we must foretell damnation. Will you but \ncast away your transgressions, delay no longer, but \ncome away at the call of Christ, and be converted, \nand become new creatures, and we have not a word \nof damning wrath or death to speak against you. I \ndo here, in the name of the Lord of Life, proclaim to \nyou all that hear me this day, to the worst of you, to \nthe greatest, to the oldest sinner, that you may have \nmercy and salvation, if you will but turn. There is \nmercy in God, there is sufficiency in the satisfaction \nof Christ, the promise is free, and full, and universal ; \nyou may have life, if you will but turn. But then, \n\n\n\n04 A CALL TO Doct. 2. \n\nas you love your souls, remember what turning it is \nthat the Scripture speaks of. It is not to mend the old \nhouse, but to pull down all, and build anew on Christ, \nthe Rock, and sure foundation. It is not to mend \nsomewhat in a carnal course of life, but to- mortify the \nflesh, and live after the Spirit. It is not to serve the \nflesh and the world, in a more reformed way, without \nany scandalous disgraceful sins, and with a certain \nkind of religiousness ; but it is to change your master, \nand your works, and end ; and to set your face the \ncontrary way, and do all for the life that you never \nsaw, and dedicate yourselves and all you have to \nGod. This is the change that must be made, if ycu \nwill live. \n\nYourselves are witnesses now, that it is salvation, \nand not damnation, that is the great doctrine I preach \nto you, and the first part of my message to you. Ac- \ncept of this, and we shall go no farther with you; \nfor we would not so much as affright, or trouble you \nwith the name of damnation, without necessity. \n\nBut if you will not be saved, there is no remedy, \nbut damnation must take place ; for there is no middle \nplace between the two ; you must have ei Jier life or \ndeath. \n\nAnd we are not only to offer you life, but to shrw \nyou the grounds on which we do it, und call you to \nbelieve that God doth mean, indeed, as he speaks; \nthat the promise is true, and extended conditionally \nto you, as well as others ; and that heaven ib no fancy, \nbut a true felicity. \n\nIf you ask, Where is your commission for this offer? \nAmong a hundred texts of Scripture, I will show it to \nyou in these few : \n\nFirst, You see it here in my text, and the following \n\n\n\nDoct. 2. THE UNCONVERTED. G5 \n\nverses, and in the 18th of Ezekiel, as plain as can be \nspuken; and hi 2 Cor. 5 : 17, 21, you have the very- \nsum of our commission : \" If any man be in Christ, he \nis a new creature : old things are passed away ; be- \nhold, all tilings are become new. And all things are \nof God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus \nChrist, and hath given to us the ministry of reconci- \nliation ; to wit, that God was in Christ reconciling the \nworld unto himself, not imputing their trespasses to \nthem, and hath committed unto us the word of recon- \nciliation. Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, \nas though God did beseech you by us : we pray you \nin Christ's stead, be ye reconciled unto God. For he \nhath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin ; that \nwe might be made the righteousness of God in him.\" \nSo Mark, 16 : 15, 16, \" Go ye into all the world, and \npreach the Gospel to every creature. He that be- \nlieveth,\" (that is with such a converting faith as is ex- \npressed,) \" and is baptized, shall be saved ; and he \nthat believe th not, shall be damned.\" And Luke, \n24 : 46, 47 : \" Thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and \nto rise from the dead the tlnrd day : and that repen- \ntance\" (which is conversion) \" and remission of sins \nshould be preached in his name among ail nations.\" \nAnd, Acts 5 : 30, 31, \" The God of our fathers raised \nup Jesus, whom ye slew, and hanged on a tree : him \nhath God exalted with his right hand, to be a Prince \nand a Savior, to give repentance to Israel, and for- \ngiveness of sins.\" And Acts, 13 : 38, 39, \" Be it known \nunto you, therefore, men and brethren, that through \nthis man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins ; \nand by him all that believe are justified from all \nthings, from which ye could not be justified by the \nlaw of Moses.\" And lest you think this offer is re- \n\n\n\n66 A CALL TO Doct. 2. \n\nstrained to the Jews, see Gal. 6 : 15, \" For in Christ \nJesus, neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor un- \ncircumcision, but a new creature.\" And Luke, 14 : 17, \n\" Come, for all things are now ready.\" \n\nYou see by this time that we are commanded to \noffer life to you all, and to tell you from God, that if \nyou will turn, you may live. \n\nHere you may safely tmst your souls ; for the love \nof God is the foundation of this offer, (John, 3 : 16,) and \nthe blood of the Son of God hath purchased it j the \nfaithfulness and truth of God is engaged to make the \npromise good ; miracles oft sealed the truth of it ; \npreachers are sent through the world to proclaim it ; \nand the Spirit doth open the heart to entertain it, and \nis itself the earnest of the full possession : so that the \ntruth of it is past controversy, that the worst of you \nall, and every one of you, if you will but be converted, \nmay be saved. \n\nIndeed, if you will believe that you shall be saved \nwithout conversion, then you believe a falsehood ; and \nif I should preach that to you, I should preach a lie. \nThis were not to believe God, but the devil and your \nown deceitful hearts. God hath his promise of life, \nand the devil hath his promise of life. God's promise \nis, Return and live. The devil's promise is, You shall \nlive whether you turn or not. The words of God are, \nas I have showed you, \" Except ye be converted and \nbecome as little children, ye cannot enter into the \nkingdom of heaven.\" Matt. 18 : 3. \" Except a man \nbe born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom ol \nGod.\" John, 3 : 3, 5. \" Without holiness no man shall \nsee the Lord.\" Heb. 12 : 14. The devil's word is, \n\" You may be saved without being born again and \nconverted j you may do well enough without being \n\n\n\nDoct- 2. THE UNCONVERTED. 67 \n\nholy, God doth bat frighten you : he is more merciful \nthan to do as he saith, he will be better to you than \nhis word.\" And, alas, the greatest part of the world \nbelieve this word of the devil before the word of God; \njust as our sin and misery came into the world. God \nsaid to our first parents, \" If ye eat ye shall die ;\" and \ndie devil contradicted him, and said, \" Ye shall not \ndie:-' and the woman believed the devil before God. \nSo now the Lord saith, Turn or die : and the devil \nsaiih, You shall not die, if you do but cry for God's \nmercy at last, and give over the acts of sin when you \ncan practise it no longer. And this is the word that \nthe world believes. O heinous wickedness, to believe \nthe 'J evil before God. \n\nAnd yet that is not the worst ; but blasphemously \nthey call this a believing and trusting in God, when \nthey put him in the shape of satan, who was a liar \nfrom the beginning ; and when they believe that the \nword of God is a lie, they call this a ti listing God, and \nsay they believe in him, and trust in him for salva- \ntion. Where did ever God say, that tie unregenerate, \nunconverted, unsanctified, shall be ss ved ? Show me \nsuch a word in Scripture. Why this is the devil's \nword, and to believe it is to believe the devil, and the \nsin that is commonly called presumption ; and do you \ncall this a believing and trusting in God? There is \nenough in the word of God tc comfort and strengthen \nthe heart of the sanctified, bu not a word to strengthen \nthe hands of wickedness, nor to give men the least hope \nof being saved though they be never sanctified. \n\nBut if you will turn, and come into the way of \nmercy, the mercy of the Lord is ready to entertain \nyou. Then trust God for salvation, boldly and confi- \ndently ; for he is engaged by his word to save you. \n\n\n\nbO A CALL TO Dact. 3 \n\nHe will be a father to none but his children; and he \nwiil save none but those that forsake the world, the \ndevil, and the flesh, and come into his family to be \nmembers of his Son, and have communion with his \nsaints.. But if they will not come in, it is the iauU \nof themselves : his doors are open ; he keeps none back ; \nhe never sent such a message as this to any of you, \n\" It is now too late ; I will not receive thee, though \nthou be converted.\" He might have done so and done \nyou no wrong ; but he did not ; he doth not to this day. \nHe is still ready to receive you, if you were but ready \nunfeignedly, and with all your hearts, to turn. And \nthe fulness of this truth will yet more appear in the \ntwo following doctrines, which I sha.ll therefore next \nproceed to before I make any further application of \nthis. \n\nDOCTRINE III. \n\nGod laketh pleasure in men's conversion and sal- \nvation, but not in their death or damnation He \nhad rather they woidd turn and live, than go on \nand die. \n\n£C The Lord is long suffering to us-ward,\" says the: \napostle, :i not willing that any should perish, but tha« \nall should come to repentance,\" 2 Pet. 3 : 9. He un \nfeignedly willeth the conversion of all men, even o< \nthose that never will be converted, but not as absolute \nLord with the fullest efficacious resolution, nor as a \nthing which he resolveth shall undoubtedly come to \npass, or would engage all his power to accomplish. I* \nis in the power of a prince to set a guard upon a mur- \nderer, to see that he shall not murder, and be hanged ; \nbut if, upon good reason, he forbear this, and do but \n\n\n\nOoct. 3- THE UNCONVERTED. 09 \n\nsend to his subjects to warn and entreat them not to \nbe murderers, he may well say that he would not hava \nthem murder and be hanged ; he takes no pleasure in \nit, but rather that they forbear and live, and if he do \nmore for some upon some special reason, he is not \nbound to do so by all. The king may well say to all \nmurderers and felons in the land, \" I have no pleasure \nin your death, but rather that you would obey my \nlaws and live; but if you will not, I am resolved, for \nall tins, that you shall die.\" The judge may truly \nsay to the murderer, \" Alas, I have no delight in thy \ndeath ; I had rather thou hadst kept the law and saved \nthy life; but seeing thou hast not, I must condemn \nthee, or else I should be unjust.\" So, though God have \nno pleasure in your damnation, and therefore calls \nupon you to return and live, yet he hath pleasure in \nthe demonstration of his own justice, and the execut- \ning of his laws ; and therefore he is, for all this, fully \nresolved, that if you will not be converted, you shall \nbe condemned. If God was so much against the \ndeath of the wicked as that he were resolved to do \nall that he can to hinder it, then no man should be \ncondemned ; whereas Christ telleth you, that \" nar- \nrow is the way that leadeth unto life, and few there \nbe that find it.\" But so far God is opposed to your \ndamnation as that he will teach you, and warn you, \nand set before you life and death, and offer you your \nchoice, and command his ministers to entreat you not \nto destroy yourselves, but accept his mercy, and so to \nleave you without excuse. But if this will not do, \nand if still you be unconverted, he professeth to yon, \nhe is resolved on your damnation, and hath com- \nmanded us to say to you in his name, verse 8, \" O \nwicked man thou shalt surely die !\" And Christ hath \n\n\n\n70 A CALL TO Doct. S \n\nlittle less than sworn it, over and over, with a \" verily, \nverily, except ye be converted and born again, ye \ncannot enter into the kingdom of heaven.\" Matt. \n18 : 3. John, 3 : 3. Mark, that he saith, \" you can \nnot.\" It is in vain to hope for it, and in vain to dream \nthat God is willing for it ; for it is a thing that can- \nnot be. \n\nIn a word, you see then the meaning of the text, \nthat God, the great Lawgiver of the world, doth take \nno pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that \nthey turn and live ; though yet he be resolved that \nnone shall live but those that turn ; and as a judge, \neven delighteth in justice, and in manifesting his \nhatred of sin, though not in the misery which sinners \nhave brought upon themselves, in itself considered. \n\nAnd for the proofs of the point, I shall be very \nbrief in them, because I suppose you easily believe it \nalready. \n\n1. The very gracious nature of God proclaimed - \n\" And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaim- \ned, The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, \nlong-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth \nkeeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, anc*. \ntransgression, and sin, and that will by no means \nclear the guilty;\" (Exod. 34 : 6, 7;) and frequently \nelsewhere, may assure you of this, That he hath no \npleasure in your death. \n\n2. IT God had more pleasure in thy death, than in \nthy conversion and life, he would not have so fre- \nquently commanded thee in his word, to turn; he \nwould not have made thee such promises of life, it \ntkou wilt but turn : he would not have persuaded thee \nto it by so many reasons. The tenor of his Gospel \nproveth the point. \n\n\n\nDocl . 3. THE UNCONVERTED. 71 \n\n'.]. And his commission that he hath given to the \nministers of the Gospel doth fully prove it. If God \nhad taken more pleasure in thy damnation, than in \niby conversion and salvation, he would never have \ncharged us to cfter you mercy, and to teach you the \nway of life, both publicly and privately: and to en- \ntieat and beseech you to turn and live ; to acquaint \nyou with your sins, and foretell you of your danger ; \nand to do all that possibly w T e can for your conversion, \nand to continue patiently so doing, though you should \nhate or abuse us for our pains. Would God have done \nthis, and appointed his ordinances for your good, if he \nhad taken pleasure in your death ? \n\n4. It is proved also by the course of his providence. \nIf God had rather you were damned than converted \nand saved, he would not second his word with his \nworks, and entice you by his daily kindness to himself, \nand give you all the mercies of this life, which are \nmeans \" to lead you to repentance,\" (Rom. 2 : 4,) and \nbring you so often under his rod, to lead you to your \nsenses ; he would not set so many examples before \nyour eyes, no, nor wait on you so patiently as he does \nfrom day to day, and year to year. These are not \ndgns of one that taketh pleasure in your death. If \nhis had been his delight, how easily could he have \nlad thee long ago in hell ? How oft, before this, could \nle have catched thee away in the midst of thy sins \ntvith a curse or oath, or lie in thy mouth, in thy igno- \nrance, and pride, and sensuality? When thou wert \nlast in thy drunkenness, or last deriding the ways of \nGod, how easily could he have stopped thy breath, \nand tamed thee with plagues, and made thee sober \nin another world ! Alas ! how small a matter is it for \nthe Almighty to rule the tongue of the profanest railer. \n\n\n\n72 A CALL TO Doct. % \n\nand tie the hands of the most malicious persecutor, or \ncalm the fury of the bitterest of his enemies, and make \nthem know that they are but worms ? If he should \nbut frown upon thee thou wouldst drop into thy grave \nIf he gave commission to one of his angels to go an \ndestroy ten thousand sinners, how quickly would it be \ndone ! how easily can he lay thee upon the bed o \nlanguishing, and make thee lie roaring there in pain, \nand make thee eat the words of reproach which thou \nhast spoken against his servants, his word, his wor \nship, and his holy ways, and make thee send to beg \ntheir prayers whom thou didst despise in thy presump- \ntion ? How easily can he lay that flesh under pains, \nand groans, and make it too weak to hold thy soul \nand make it more loathsome than the dung of the \nearth ? That flesh which now must have what it \nloves, and must not be displeased, though God be dis- \npleased j and must be humored in meat, and drink, \nand clothes, whatever God say to the contrary, how \nquickly would the frowns of God consume it? When \nthou wast passionately defending thy sin, and quar- \nrelling with them that would have drawn thee from * \nit, and showing thy spleen against the reprover, and \npleading for the works of darkness ; how easily could \nGod have snatched thee away in a moment, and set \nthee before his dreadful Majesty, where thou shouldst \nsee ten thousand times ten thousand glorious angels \nwaiting on his throne, and have called thee there to \nplead thy cause, and asked thee \" What hast thou \nnow to say against thy Creator, his truth, his servants, \nor his holy ways ? Now plead thy cause, and make \nthe best of it thou canst. Now what canst thou say \nin excuse of thy sins ? Now give account of thy world \nliness and fleshly life, of thy time, of all the mercies \n\n\n\nDoct. 3. THE UNCONVERTED. 73 \n\nthou hast had.\" O how thy stubborn heart would \nhave melted, and thy proud looks be taken down, and \nthy countenance be appalled, and thy stout words \nturned into speechless silence, or dreadful cries, if God \nhad but set thee thus at his bar, and pleaded his own \ncause with thee, which thou hast here so maliciously \nplended against ! How easily can he at any time say \nto thy guilty soul, Come away, and live in that flesh \nno more till the resurrection, and it cannot resist ! A \nword of his mouth would lake off the poise of thy pre- \nsent life, and then all thy parts and powers would \nstand still ; and if he say unto thee, Live no longer, or, \nlive in hell, thou couldst not disobey. \n\nBut God hath yet done none of this, but hath pa- \ntiently forborne thee, and mercifully upheld thee, and \ngiven thee that breath which thou didst breathe out \nagainst hi in, and given those mercies which thou \ndidst sacrifice to thy flesh, and afforded thee that pro- \nvision which thou didst use to satisfy thy greedy \nthroat: he gave thee every minute of that time which \nthou didst waste in idleness, or drunkenness, or w r orld- \niiness ; and doth not all his patience and mercy show \nthat he desired not thy damnation 1 Can the candle \nburn without the oil ? Can your houses stand without \nthe earth to bear them ? No more can you live an \nh&ui without the support of God. And why did he, \nso long support thy life, but to see when thou wouldst \nbethink thee of the folly of thy ways, and return and \nlive ? Will any man purposely put arms into his ene- \nmy's hands to resist him, or hold a candle to a mur- \nderer that is killing his children, or to an idle servant \nthat plays or sleeps the while ? Surely it is to see \nwhether thou wilt at last return and live, that God \nhath so long waited on thee. \n\nSax. €a]L 7 \n\n\n\n74 A CALL TO Docl .1 \n\n5. It is further Droved by the suffering of his Son. \nthat God taketh no pleasure in the death of the wicked. \nWould he have ransomed them from death at so dear \na rate ? Would he have astonished angels and men \nby his condescension ? Would God have dwelt in \nflesh, and have come in the form of a servant, and \nhave assumed humanity into one person with the God • \nhead; and would Christ have lived a life of suffering, \nand died a cursed death for sinners, if he had rather \ntaken pleasure in their death ? Suppose you saw him \nbut so busy in preaching and healing of them, as you \nfind him in Mark, 3 : 21 j or so long in fasting, as in \nMatt. 4 ; or all night in prayer, as in Luke 6 : 12 ; or \npraying with the drops of blood trickling from him \ninstead of sweat, as Luke 22 : 44 ; or suffering a cursed \ndeath upon the cross, and pouring out his soul as a sa- \ncrifice for our sins — would you have thought these the \nsigns of one that delighted in the death of the wicked ? \n\nAnd think not to extenuate it by saying, that it \nwas only for his elect : for it was thy sin, and the sin \nof all the world, that lay upon our Redeemer ; and hia \nsacrifice and satisfaction is sufficient for all, and the \nfruits of it are offered to one as well as another. But it \nis true, that it was never the intent of his mind to par- \ndon and save any that would not, by faith and repen- \ntance, be converted. If you had seen and heard him \nweeping and bemoaning the state of disobedience in \nimpenitent people : (Luke, 19 * 41, 42,) \" And when \nhe was come near, he beheld the city, and wept over \nit, saying, if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in \nthis thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! \nbut now they are hid from thine eyes\" — or complain- \ning of their stubbornness, as Matt. 23 : 37, \" O Jeru- \nsalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered \n\n\n\nDoct. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 75 \n\nthy children together, even as a hen gathereth her \nchickens under her wings, and ye would not P* or \nif you had seen and heard him on the cross, praying \nfor his persecutors — Father, forgive them, for they \nknow not what they do — would you have suspected \nthat he had delighted in the death of the wicked, even \nof those that perish by their wilful unbelief ? When \nGod hath so loved, (not only loved, but so loved.) aa \nto give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believ- \neth in him (by an effectual faith) should not perish, \nbut have everlasting life, I think he hath hereby \nnroved, against the malice of men and devils, that he \ntakes no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but had \nrather that they would \" turn and live.\" \n\n6. Lastly, If all this will not yet satisfy you, take \nHis own word that knoweth best his own mind, or at \nleast believe his oath : but this leads me to the fourth \ndoctrine. \n\nDOCTRINE IV. \n\nThe Lord hath confirmed to us by his Oath, that he \n\nhath no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but \n\nrather that he turn and live; that he may leave \n\nman no pretence to question the truth of it. \n\nIf you dare question his word, I hope you dare not \n\nquestion his oath. As Christ hath solemnly protested \n\nthat the unregenerate and unconverted cannot enter \n\ninto the kingdom of heaven ; (Matt. 18 : 3 ; John, \n\n3 : 3 ;) so God hath sworn that his pleasure is not in \n\ntheir death, but in their conversion and life. And as \n\nthe aposde saith, (Heb. 4 : 13, 18,) because he can \n\newear by no greater, he sware by himself. \" For men \n\nverily swear by the greater : and an oath for confirma- \n\n\n\n76 A CALL TO D\"*- «• \n\n♦ion is to them an end of strife. Wherein God, will- \ning more abundantly to show unto the heirs of pro- \nmise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by \nan oath ; that by two immutable things in which it \nwas impossible for God to lie, we might .have strong \nconsolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold on \nthe hope set before us : which hope we have as an \nanchor of the soul both sure and steadfast.\" If there \nbe any man that cannot reconcile this truth with the \ndoctrine of predestination, or the actual damnation of \nthe wicked, that is his own ignorance ; he hath no \npretence left to question or deny therefore the truth of \nthe point in hand ; for this is confirmed by the oath \nof God, and therefore must not be distorted, to reduce \nit to other points : but doubtful points must rather be \nreduced to it, and certain truths must be believed to \nagree with it, though our shallow minds hardly dis- \ncern the agreement. \n\nUse. — I do now entreat thee, if thou be an uncon- \nverted sinner that nearest these words, that thou \nwouldst ponder a little upon the forementioned doc- \ntrines, and bethink thyself awhile who it is that takes \npleasure in thy sin and damnation. Certainly it is \nnot God ; he hath sworn for his part that he takes no \npleasure in it. And I know it is not the pleasing of \nhim that you intend. You dare not say that you \ndrink, and swear, and neglect holy duties, and quench \nthe motions of the Spirit to please God. That were \nas if you should reproach the prince, and break his \nlaws, and seek his death, and say you did all this to \nplease him. \n\nWho is it then that takes pleasure in your sin and \ndeath 1 Not any that bear the image of God, for they \n\n\n\nDoet 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 7? \n\nmust be like minded to him. God knows, it is small \npleasure to your faithful teachers to see you serve \nyour deadly enemy, and madly venture your eternal \nstate, and wilfully run into the flames of hell. It is \nsmall pleasure to them to see upon your souls (in the \nead effects) such blindness, and hard-heartedness, and \ncarelessness, and presumption ; such wilfulness in evil, \nand such unteachableness and stiffness against the \nways of life and peace ; they know these are marks \nof death, and of the wrath of God, and they know, \nfrom the word of God, what is like to be the end of \nthem, and therefore it is no more pleasure to them \nthan to a tender physician to see the plague-marks \nbroke out upon his patient. Alas, to foresee your ever- \nlasting torments, and know not how to prevent them ! \nTo see how near you are to hell, and we cannot make \nyou believe it and consider it. To see how easily, \nhow certainly you might escape, if we knew but how \nto make you willing. How fair you are for everlast- \ning salvation, if you would turn and do your best, and \nmake it the care and business of your lives ! but you \nwill not do it; if our lives lay on it, we cannot per- \nsuade you to it. We study day and night what to \nsay to you that may convince and persuade you, and \nyet it is undone : we lay before you the word of God. \nand show you the very chapter and verse where it is \nwritten, that you cannot be saved except you be con- \nverted ; and yet we leave the most of you as we find \nyou. We hope you will believe the word of God, \nthough you believe not us, and regard it when we \nshow you the plain Scripture for it ; but we hope in- \nvain, and labor in vain as to any saving change upon \nyour hearts ! And do you think that this is a pleasant \nthing to us ? Many a time, in secret prayer, we are \n\n\n\n78 A CALL TO Doct. 4. \n\nfain to complain to God with pad heart!?, \" Alas, Lord, \nwc have spoken to them in thy name, but they little \nregard us ; we have told them what thou bidst us tell \nthem concerning the danger of an unconverted state. \nbut they do not believe us: wc have told them that \nthou hast protested that there is no peace to the \nwicked ;\" (Isa. 57 : 21 ;) \" but the worst of them all \nwill scarcely believe that they are wicked. We \nhave showed them thy word, where thou hast said, \nthat if they live after the flesh they shall die ;\" (Rom. \n8 : 13,) \" but they say, they will believe in thee, when \nthey will not believe thee ; and that they will trust in \nthee, when they give no credit to thy word ; and when \nthey lupe that the threatenings of thy word arc false, \nthey will yet call this a hoping in God ; and though \nwe show them where thou hast said, that when a \nwicked man dieth, all his hopes perish, yet cannot we \npersuade them from their deceitful hopes.\" Prov, \n11:7. \" We fell them what a base unprofitable \nthing sin is ; but they love it, and therefore will not \nleave it. We tell them how dear they buy this plea- \nsure, and what they must pay for it in everlasting \ntorment; and they bless themselves, and will not be- \nlieve it, but will do as the most do ; and because God \nis merciful, they will not believe him, but will ven- \nture their souls, come what will. We tell them hew \nready the Lord is to receive them, and this doth but \nmake them delay their repentance and be bolder in \ntheir sin. Some of them say they purpose to repent, \nbut they are still the same ; and some say they do re- \npent already, while yet tfcey are not converted from \ntheir sins. We exhort them, we entreat them, w<3 \noffer them our help, but we cannot prevail vyith them; \nbut they that were drunkards, are drunkards still ; and \n\n\n\nOoct. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 79 \n\nthey that were voluptuous flesh-pleasing wretches, are \nsuch still ; and they that were worldlings, are world- \nlings still ; and they that were ignorant, and proud, \nand self-conceited, are so still. Few of them will see \nand confess their sin, and fewer will forsake it, but \ncomfort themselves that all men are sinners, as if there \nwere no difference between a converted sinner and an \nunconverted. Some of them will not come near us, \nwhen we are willing to instruct them, but think they \nknow enough already, and need not. our instruction ; \nand some of them will give us the hearing, and do \nwhat they list ; and most of them are like dead men \nthat cannot feel ; so that when we tell them of the \nmatters of everlasting consequence, we cannot get a \nword of it to their hearts. If we do not obey them, \nand humor them in doing all that they would have \nus, though never so much against the word of God, \nthey will hate us, and rail at us ; but if we beseech \nthem to confess, and forsake their sins, and save their \nsouls, they will not do it. They would have us dis- \nobey God and damn our own souls, to please them ; \nand yet they will not torn and save their own souls \nto please God. They are wiser in their own eyes than \nall their teachers ; they rage and are confident in their \nown way, and if w T e are ever so anxious we cannot \nchange them. Lord, this is the case of our miserable \nneighbors, and we cannot help it ; we see them ready \nto drop into hell, and we cannot help it : we know if \nthey would unfeignedly turn, they might be saved, \nbut we cannot persuade them ; if we would beg it of \nthem on our knees, we cannot persuade them to it ; if \nwe would beg it of them with tears., we cannot per- \nsuade them ; and what more can we do? \nThese are the secret complaints and moans that \n\n\n\n60 A CALL TO Doct. 4. \n\nmany a poor minister is compelled to make. And do \nyou think that he hath any pleasure in this? Is it a \npleasure to him to see you go on in sin, and cannot \nstop you? to see you so miserable, and cannot so \nmuch as make you sensible of it? to see you merry \nwhen you are not sure to be an hour out of hell ? to \nthink what you must for ever suffer, because you will \nnot turn? and to think what an everlasting life of \nglory you wilfully despise and cast away? What \nsadder tiling can you bring to their hearts, and how \ncan you devise to grieve them more ? \n\nWho is it then that you please by your sin and \ndeath? It is none of your understanding godly friends. \nAlas, it is the grief of their souls to see your misery, \nand they lament you many a time when you give \nthem little thanks for it, and when you have not \nhearts to lament yourselves. \n\nWho is it then that takes pleasure in your sin ? \n\n1. The devil indeed takes pleasure in your sin and \ndeath ; for this is the very end of all his temptations ; \nfor this he watches night and day ; you cannot devise \nto please him better than to go on in sin. How glad \nis he when he sees thee going into the alehouse, or \nother sin, and when he heareth thee curse, or swear, \nor rail ? How glad is he when he heareth thee revile \nthe minister that would draw thee from thy sin, and \nhelp to save thee? These are his delight. \n\n2. The wicked are also delighted in it ; for it ia \nagreeable to their nature. \n\n3. But I know, for all this, that it is not the pleas- \ning of the devil that you intend, even when you please \nhim ; but it is your own flesh, the greatest and most \ndangerous enemy, that you intend to please. It is the- \nflesh that would be pampered, that would be pleased \n\n\n\nDoet. 4. THE UNCONVERTED. 81 \n\nin meat, and drink, and clothing ; that would be pleased \nin your company, and pleased in applause and credit \nwith the world, and pleased in sports, and lusts, and \nidleness; this is the gulf that devoureth all. This is \nthe very god that you serve, for the Scripture saith \nof such, that their bellies are their gods. Phil. 3 : 19. \nBut I beseech you stay a little and consider the bu- \n\n\n\n1. Question. Should your flesh be pleased before \nyour maker ? Will you displease the Lord, and dis- \nplease your teacher, and your godly friends, and aU \nto please your brutish appetites, or sensual desires'? \nIs not God worthy to be the ruler of your flesh ? If he \nshall not rale it, he will not save it ; you cannot in \nreason expect that he should. \n\n2. Question. Your flesh is pleased with your sin, \nbut is your conscience pleased ? Doth not it grudge \nwithin you, and tell you sometimes that all is not well, \nand that your case is not so safe as you make it to be ; \nand should not your souls and consciences be pleased \nbefore your corruptible flesh? \n\n3. Question. But is not your flesh preparing for its \nown displeasure also ? It loves the bait, but doth it \nlove the hook 1 It loves the strong drink and sweet \nmorsels ; it loves its ease, and sports, and merriment ; \nit loves to be rich, and well spoken of by men, and to \nbe somebody in the world ; but doth it love the curse \nof God? Doth it love to stand trembling before his \nbar, and to be judged to everlasting fire? Doth it \nlove to be tormented with the devils for ever ? Take \nall together ; for there is no separating sin and hell, \nbut only by faith and true conversion ; if you will keep \none, you must have the other. If death and hell be \npleasant to thee, no wonder then if you go on in sin • \n\n\n\n82 A CALL TO Doct 3 \n\nbut if they be not, (as I am sure they are not,) then \nwhat if sin were never so pleasant, is it worth the loss \nof life eternal? Is a little drink, or meat, or ease; is \nthe good word of sinners, is the riches of this world to \nbe valued above the joys of heaven ? Or are they \nworth the sufferings of eternal fire ? Sirs, these ques- \ntions should be considered before you go any further, \nby every man that hath reason to consider, and that \nbelieves he hath a soul to save or lose. \n\nWell, the Lord here sweareth that he hath no plea- \nsure in your death, but rather that you would turn \nand live ; if yet you will go on and die rather than \nturn, remember it was not to please God that you did \nit : it was to please the world, and to please your- \nselves. And if men will damn themselves to please \nthemselves, and run into endless torments for delight, \nand have not the wit, the hearts, the grace, to hearken \nto God or man that would reclaim them, what remedy \nis there, but they must take what they get by it, and \nrepent it in another manner, when it is too late ? Be- \nfore I proceed any further in the application I shall \ncome to the next doctrine, which gives me a fuller \nground for it. \n\nDOCTRINE V. \n\nSo earnest is God for the conversion of sinners that \nhe doubleth his commands and exhortations, with \nvehemency — Turn ye, turn ye, why will you die ? \nThis doctrine is the application of the former, as \nby a use of exhortation, and accordingly I shall han- \ndle it. Is there an unconverted sinner that heareth \nthese vehement words of God ? Is there a man or \nwoman in this assembly that is yet a stranger to the \n\n\n\nDoct. 5 THE UNCONVERTED. 83 \n\nrenewing sanctifying work of the Holy Ghost ? It is \na happy assembly, if it be not so with the most. \nHearken then to the voice of your Maker, and turn to \nliim by Christ without delay. Would you know the \nwill of God 1 Why this is his will, that you presently \nturn. Shall the living God send so earnest a message \nto his creatures, and should they not obey ? \n\nHearken then, all you that live after the flesh : the \nLord that gave thee thy breath and being hath sent \na message to thee from heaven ; and this is his mes- \nsage, Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die? He that \nhath ears to hear, let him hear. Shall the voice of \nthe eternal Majesty be neglected? If he do but ter- \nribly thunder, thou art afraid. O but this voice doth \nmore nearly concern thee. If he did but tell thee thou \nshalt die to-morrow, thou wouldst not make light of \nit. O but this word concerneth thy life or death ever- \nlasting. It is both a command and an exhortation. \nAs if he had said to thee, \" I charge thee, upon the \nallegiance that thou owest to me thy Creator and \nRedeemer, that thou renounce the flesh, the world, \nand the devil, and turn to me, that thou mayest live. \nI condescend to entreat thee, as thou either lovest or \nfearest him that made thee ; as thou lovest thine own \nlife, even thine everlasting life, turn and live : as ever \nthou wouldst escape eternal misery, turn, turn, for \nwhy wilt thou die?\" And is there a heart in man, \nin a reasonable creature, that can once refuse such a \nmessage, such a command, such an exhortation as \ntins 1 O what a thing, then, is the heart of man ! \n\nHearken, then, all that love yourselves, and all that \nregard your own salvation ; here is the most joyful \nmessage that was ever sent to the ears of man, \nu Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die? v You are not \n\n\n\n84 A CALL TO Doct. fc \n\nyet shut up under desperation. Here is mercy offered \nyou ; turn, and you shall have it. O Sirs ! with what \nglad and joyful hearts should you receive these tid- \nings ! I know this is not the first time that you have \nheard it; but how have you regarded it, or how do \nyou regard it now? Hear, all you ignorant, careless \nsinners, the word of the Lord. Hear, all you world- \nlings, you sensual flesh-pie asers; you gluttons, and \ndrunkards, and whoremongers, and swearers; you \nrailers and backbiters, slanderers and liars — Tarn ye, \nturn ye, -why will ye die ? \n\nHear, all you cold and outside professors, and all \nthat are strangers to the life of Christ, and never knew \nthe power of his cross and resurrection, and never felt \nyour hearts warmed with his love, and live not on \nhim as the strength of your souls — \" Turn ye, turn ye, \nwhy will ye die '?\" \n\nHear, all that are void of the love of God, whose \nhearts are not toward him, nor taken up with the \nhopes of glory, but set more by your earthly prospe- \nrity and delights than by the joys of heaven ; all you \nthat are religious but a little-by-the-by, and give God \nno more than your flesh can spare ; that have not de- \nnied your carnal selves, and forsaken all that you have \nfor Christ, m the estimation and grounded resolution \nof your souls, but have some one thing in the world \nbo dear to you that you cannot spare it for Christ, if \nhe required it, but will rather venture on his displea- \nsure than forsake it — \" Turn ye, turn ye, why will \nye die?\" \n\nIf you never heard it, or observed it. before, remem- \nber that you were told from the word of God this (Jay, \nthat if you will but turn, you may live ; and if you \nwill not turn, you shall surely die. \n\n\n\nDoct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 86 \n\nWhat now will you do, sirs ? What is your reso- \niution? Will you turn, or will you not? Halt not \nany longer between two opinions. If the Lord be \nGod, fellow him : if your flesh be God, then serve it \nstill. If heaven be better than earth and fleshly plea- \nsures, come away, then, and seek a better country, \nand lay up your treasure where rust and moths do \nnot corrupt, and thieves cannot break through and \nsteal; and be awakened at last, with all your might, \nto seek the kingdom that cannot be moved, (Heb. \n12 : 28,) and to employ your lives on a higher design, \nand turn the stream of your cares and labors another \nway than formerly you have done. But if earth be \nbetter than heaven, or will do more for you, or last \nyou longer, then keep it, and make your best of it, and \nfollow it still. Sirs, are you resolved what to do ? If \nyou be not, I will set a few more moving considera- \nlons before you, to see if reason will make you resolve. \n\nConsider, I. What preparations mercy hath made \nfor your salvation; and w T hat pity it is that any man \nehoald be damned after all this. The time was, when \nthe flaming sword w T as in the way, and the curse of \nGod's law would have kept thee back if thou hadst \nbeen never so willing to turn to God. The time was, \nwhen thyself, and all the friends that thou hast in the \nworld, could never have produced thee the pardon of \nthy sins past, though thou hadst never so much la- \nmented and reformed them. But Christ hath removed \nthis impediment, by the ransom of his blood. The \ntime was, that God was wmolly unreconciled, as be- \ning not satisfied for the violation of his law ; but now \nhe is so far satisfied and reconciled, as that he hath \nmade thee a free act of oblivion, and a free deed of \ngift of Christ and life, and ofiereth it to thee, and en- \n\nBax. Call. g \n\n\n\n86 A CALL TO Docl - * \n\ntreateth thee to accept it ; and it may be thine, if thou \nwilt. For, \" he was in Christ reconciling the world \nto himself, and hath committed to us the word of re- \nconciliation.\" 2 Cor. 5 : 18, 19. Sinners, we too are \ncommanded to deliver this message to you all, as from \nthe Lord ; \" Come, for all things are ready.\" Luke, \n14 : 17. Are all things ready, and are you unready ? \nGod is ready to entertain you, and pardon all that \nyou have done against him, if you will but come. As \nlong as you have sinned, as wilfully as you have sin- \nned, he is ready to cast all behind his back, if you \nwill but come. Though you have been prodigals, \nand run away from God, and have staid so long, be \nis ready even to meet you, and embrace you in his \narms, and rejoice in your conversion, if you will but \nturn. Even the worldlings and drunkards will find \nGod ready to bid them welcome, if they will but come. \nDoth not this turn thy heart within thee ? O sinner ! \nif thou hast a heart of flesh, and not of stone in thee, \nmethinks this should melt it. Shall the dreadful in- \nfinite Majesty of heaven even wait for thy returning, \nand be ready to receive thee, who hast abused him, \nand forgotten him so long ? Shall he delight in thy \nconversion, that might at any time glorify his justice \nin thy damnation ? and yet doth it not melt thy heart \nwithin thee, and art thou not yet ready to come in ? \nHast thou not as much reason to be ready to come as \nGod hath to invite thee and bid thee welcome ? \n\nBut that is not all : Christ hath died on the cross, \nand made such way for thee to the Father, that, on \nhis account, thou mayest be welcome, if thou wilt \ncome. And yet art thou not ready ? \n\nA pardon is already expressly granted, and offered \nthee in the Gospel. And yet art thou not ready ? \n\n\n\nDoct 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 87 \n\nThe ministers of the Gospel are ready to assist thee, \nto instruct thee, pray for thee. And yet art thou not \nready ? \n\nAll that fear God about thee are ready to rejoice \nin thy conversion, and to receive thee into the com- \nmunion of saints, and to give thee the right hand of \nfellowship, yea, though thou hadst been one that had \nbeen cast out of their society : they dare not but forgive \nwhere God forgiveth, when it is manifest to them, by \nthy confession and amendment. ; they dare not so much \nas reproach thee with thy former sins, because they \nknow that God will not upbraid thee with them. If \nthou hadst been never so scandalous, if thou wouldst \nbut heartily be converted and come in, they would \nnot refuse thee, let the world say what they would \nagainst it. And are all these ready to receive thee, \nand yet art thou not ready to come in ? \n\nYea, heaven itself is ready : The Lord will receive \nthee into the glory of his saints. Vile as thou hast \nbeen, if thou wilt be but cleansed thou mayest have \na place before his throne ; his angels will be ready to \nguard thy soul to the place of joy if thou do but un- \nfeignedly come in. And is God ready, the sacrifice \nof Christ ready, the promise ready, and pardon ready ? \nare ministers ready, and the people of God ready, and \nheaven itself ready ? and angels ready ? and all these \nbut waiting for thy conversion ; and yet art thou not \nready ? What ! not ready to live, when thou hast \nbeen dead so long ? not ready to come to thy right \nunderstanding, as the prodigal is said 10 \" come to \nhimself,\" (Luke, 15 : 17,) when thou has! been beside \nthyself so long ? Not ready to be saved, when thou \nart even ready to be condemned ? Art thou not ready \nto lay hold on Christ, that would deliver thee, when \n\n\n\n88 A CALL TO Doct. S \n\nthou art even ready to sink into damnation ? Art thou \nnot ready to be drawn from hell, when thou art even \nready to be cast remediless into it ? Alas, man ! dost \nthou know what thou doest 1 If thou die unconverted \nthere is no doubt to be made of thy damnation ; and \nthou art not sure to live an hour. And yet art thou \nnot leady to turn and to come in? O miserable \nwretch ! Hast thou not served the flesh and the devil \n.ong enough? Yet hast thou not enough of sin? I3 \n:t so good to thee, or so profitable for thee ? Dost thou \nknow what it is, that thou wouldst yet have more of \nit ? Hast thou had so many calls, and so many mer- \ncies, and so many warnings, and so many examples? \nHast thou seen so many laid in the grave, and yet \nart thou not ready to let go thy sins, and come to \nChrist ? What ! after so many convictions and pangg \nof conscience, after so many purposes and promises, \nart thou not yet ready to turn and live ? O that thy \neyes, thy heart, were opened to know how fair an offer \nis now made to thee ! and what a joyful message it is \nthat we are sent on, to bid thee come, for all thinga \nare ready ! \n\nII. Consider also, what calls thou hast to turn and \nlive. How many, how loud, how earnest, how dread- \nful : and yet what encouraging, joyful calls ! For the \nprincipal inviter is God himself. He that command- \neth heaven and earth, commands thee to turn, and \nthat presently, without delay. He commands the \nsun to run its course, and to rise upon thee every \nmorning; and though it be so glorious an orb, and \nmany times bigger than all the earth, yet it obeyeth \nhim, and faileth not one minute of its appointed time. \nHe commandeth all the planets, and the orbs of hea- \nven, and they obey. He commandeth the sea to ebb \n\n\n\nDoct 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 89 \n\nand flow, and the whole creation to keep its course, \nand all obey him ; the angels of heaven obey his will, \nwhen he sends them to minister to such worms as we \non earth, (Heb. 1 : 14;) and yet if he command but \na sinner to turn, he will not obey him. He only thinks \nhimself wiser than God, and he cavils and pleads the \ncause of sin, and will not obey. If the Lord Almighty \nsay the word, the heavens and all therein obey him : \nbut if he call but a drunkard out of an ale-house, he \nwill not obey : or if he call a worldly fleshly sinner to \ndeny himself, and mortify the flesh, and set his heart \nupon a better inheritance, he will not obey. \n\nIf thou hadst any love in thee, thou wouldst know \nthe voice, and say, O this is my Father's call ! how \ncan I find in my heart to disobey ? For the sheep of \nChrist \" know and hear his voice, and they follow \nhim, and he giveth them eternal life.\" John, 10 : 4. \nIf thou hadst any spiritual life and sense in thee, at \nleast thou wouldst say, \" This call is the dreadful \nvoice of God, and who dare disobey? For saith the \nprophet, (Amos, 3 : 8,) \" The lion hath roared, who \nwill not fear ?\" God is not a man, that thou shouldst \ndally and trifle with him. Remember what he said \nto Paul at his conversion, \" It is hard for thee to \nkick against the 'pricks?'' Acts, 9 : 5. Wilt thou yet \ngo on and despise his word, and resist his Spirit, and \nstop thine ear against his call? who is it that will \nhave the worst of this ? Dost thou know whom thou \ndisobeyest, and contendest with, and what thou art \ndoing ? It were a far wiser and easier task for thee to \ncontend with the thorns, and spurn them with thy \nbare feet, and beat them with thy bare hands, or put \nthine head into the burning fire. \"Be not deceived, \nGod will not be mocked.\" Gal. 6 : 7. Whoever else \n\n\n\n90 A CALL TO Doct. 5 \n\nbe mocked, God will not : you had better play with \nthe fire in your thatch, than with the fire of his burn- \ning wrath. \" For our God is a consuming fire.\" Heb. \n12 : 29. O how unmeet a match art thou for God ! \n\" It is a fearful thing to fall into his bauds.\" Heb. \n10 : 31. And therefore it is a fearful thing to contend \nwith him, or resist him. As you love your own souls, \ntake heed what you do : what will you say if he begin \nin wrath to piead with you? What will you do if he \ntake you once in hand ? will you then strive against \nhis judgment, as now ye do against his grace ? Isa. \n27 : 4, 5. \" Fury is not in me :\" saith the Lord : (that \nis) I delight not to destroy you : I do it, as it were un- \nwillingly ; but yet \" who will set the briers and thorns \nagainst me in battle? I would go through them, I \nicouUl burn them together. Or let him take hold of \nmy strength, that he may mahe peace with me.\" It is \nan unequal combat for the briers and stubble to make \nwar with the fire. \n\nAnd thus you see who it is that calleth you, that \nwould move you to hear his call, and turn : so con- \nsider aiso by what instruments, and how often, and \nhow earnestly he doth it. \n\n1. Every leaf of the blessed book of God hath, as it \nwere, a voice, and calls out to thee, Turn, and live; \nturn, or thou wilt die. Kow canst thou open it, and \nread a leaf, or hear a chapter, and not perceive God \nbids thee turn? \n\n2. It is the voice of every sermon that thou nearest : \nfor what else is the scope and drift of all, but to cali, \nand persuade, and entreat thee to turn. \n\n3. It is the voice of many a motion of the Spirit that \nsecretly speaks over these words again, and urgetb \nthee to turn. \n\n\n\nDoct. 5- THE UNCONVERTED. 91 \n\n4. It is likely, sometimes it is the voice of thv own \nconscience Art thou not sometimes convinced that \nall is not well with thee ? And doth not thy con- \nscience tell thee that thou must be a new man ? and \ntake a new course, and often call upon thee to return ? \n\n5. It is the voice of the gracious examples of the \ngodly. When thou seest them live a heavenly life, \nand fly from the sin which is thy delight, this really \ncalls on thee to turn. \n\n6. It is the voice of all the works of God : for they \nalso are God's books that teach thee this lesson, by \nshowing thee his greatness, and Wisdom, and good- \nness ; and calling thee to observe them, and admire \nthe Creator. Psalm 19 : 1, 2. \" The heavens declare \nthe glory of God, and the firmament showeth his \nhandy work : day unto day uttereth speech,, night \nunto night showeth knowledge.\" Every time the sun \nriseth unto thee, it really calleth thee to turn, as if it \nshould say, \" What do I travel and compass the world \nfor, but to declare to men the glory of their Maker, \nand to light, them to do his work ? And do I still find \nthee doing the work of sin, and sleeping out thy life \nin negligence? Awake thou that sleepest, and arise \nfrom the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.\" \nEphcs. 5 : 14. \" The night is far spent, the day is \nat hand ; it is now high time to awake out of sleep. \nLet us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let \nus put on the armor of light. Let us walk honestly \nas in the day, not in rioting and drunkenness, not m \nchambering and wantonness, not in strife and enyy- \ning, but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make \nnot provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof.\" \nRom. 13 : 11, 14. This text was the means of Aus- \ntin's conversion. \n\n\n\n7. It is the voice of every mercy thou dost possess ; \nif thou couldst but hear and understand them, they \nall cry out unto thee, Turn. Why doth Ihe earth \nbear thee, but to seek and serve the Lord ? Why \ndoth it afford thee its fruits, but to serve him? W T hy \ndoth the air afford thee breath, but to serve him? \nWhy do all the creatures serve thee with their labors \nand their lives, but that thou mightest serve the Lord \nof them and thee ? Why doth he give thee time, \nand health, and strength, but only to serve him? \nWhy hast thou meat, and drink, and clothes, but for \nhis service ? Hast thou any thing which thou hast \nnot received ? and if thou didst receive them, it is rea- \nson thou should st bethink thee from whom, and to \nwhat end and use thou didst receive them. Didst \nthou never cry to him for help in thy distress, and \ndidst thou not then understand that it was thy part to \nturn and serve him, if he would deliver thee ? He \nhath done his part, and spared thee yet longer, and \ntried thee another, and another year ; and yet dost \nthou not turn? You know the parable of the unfruit- \nful fig-tree, Luke, 13 : 7, 9. When the Lord had \nsaid, \" Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground V T \nhe was entreated to try it one year longer, and then \nif it proved not fruitful, to cut it clown. Christ himself \nthere makes the application twice over, (ver. 3 and \n5.) \" Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.\" \nHow many years hath God looked for the fruits of \nlove and holiness from thee, and hath found none, and \nyet he hath spared thee ? How many a time, by thy \nwilful ignorance, and carelessness, and disobedience, \nhast thou provoked justice to say, \" Cut him down, \nwhy cumbereth he the ground?\" And yet mercy \nhath prevailed, and patience hath forborne the fatal \n\n\n\nDoct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 93 \n\nblow, to this day. If thou hadst the understanding \nof a man within thee, thou wouldst know that all tliis \ncalleth thee to turn. \" Dost thou think thou shalt \nEtill escape the judgment of God? or despisest thou \ntlie riches of his goodness, and forbearance, and long- \nsuffering? not knowing that the goodness of God \nleadeth thee to repentance. But, after thy hardnes3 \nand impenitent heart, treasurestup unto thyself wrath \nagainst the day of wrath, and revelation of the righte- \nous judgment of God, who will render to every man \naccording to his deeds.\" Rom. 2 : 3—6. \n\n8. Moreover, it is the voice of every affliction to call \nthee to make haste and turn. Sickness and pain cry, \nTurn : and poverty, and loss of friends, and every \ntwig of the chastening rod, cry, Turn. And yet wilt \nthou not hearken to the call ? These have come near \nthee, and made thee feel; they have made thee \ngroan, and can they not make thee turn ? \n\n9. The very frame of thy nature and being itself, \nbespeaketh thy return. Why hast thou reason, but to \nrule thy flesh, and serve thy Lord ? Why hast thou \nan understanding soul, but to learn and know his will \nand do it ? Why hast thou a heart within thee that \ncan love, and fear, and desire, but that thou shouldst \nfear him, and love him, and desire after him? \n\nLay all these together now, and see what should \nbe the issue. The holy Scriptures call upon thee to \nturn; the ministers of Christ call upon thee to turn; \nthe Spirit cries, Turn ; thy conscience ones, Turn ; \n(ho godly, by persuasions and example cry. Turn; \nthe whole world, and all the creatures therein that \nare presented to thy consideration cry, Turn ; the pa- \ntient forbearance of God cries, Turn ; all the mercies \nwhich thou receivest cry, Turn; the rod of God'a \n\n\n\n94 A CALL TO Doct. &. \n\nchastisement cries Turn ; thy reason and the frame cf \nthy nature bespeaks thy turning ; and so do all thy \npromises to God ; and yet art thou not resolved to \nturn? \n\nIII. Moreover, poor hard-hearted sinner, didst thou \never consider upon what terms thou standest all this \nwhile with Him that calleth on thee to turn ? Thou \nart Ins own, and owest him thyself, and all thou hast; \nand may he not command his own ? Thou art his \nabsolute servant, and shouldst serve no other master. \nThou standest a^. his mercy, and thy life is in his \nhand, and he is resolved to save thee upon no other \nterms; thou hast many malicious spiritual enemies \nthat would be glad if God would but forsake thee, \nand let them alone with thee, and leave thee to their \nwill ; how quickly would they deal with thee in an- \nother manner ! and thou canst not be delivered from \nthem but by turning unto God. Thou art fallen un - \nder his wrath by thy sin already ; and thou knowest \nnot how long his patience will yet wait. Perhaps this \nis the last year, perhaps the last day. His sword ia \neven at thy heart while the word is in thine ear; \nand if thou turn not, thou art a dead and undone \nman. Were thy eyes but open to see where thou \nstandest, even upon the brink of hell, and to see how \nmany thousands are there already that did not turn, \nthou wouldst see that it is time to look about thee. \n\nWell, sirs, look inwards now and tell me how your \nhearts are affected with those offers of the Lord. Yow \nhear what is his mind : he delighteth not in your \ndeath ; he calls to yon, Turn, turn : it is a fearful sigr* \nif all this move thee not, or if it do but half move thee , \nand much more if it make thee more careless in thy \nmisery, because thou nearest of the mercifulness of \n\n\n\nDoct. 5. THE UNCONVERTED. 95 \n\nGod. The working of the medicine will partly teu \nus whether there be any hope of the cure. O what \nglad tidings would it be to those that are now in hell, \nif they had but such a message from God! What a \njoyful word would it be to hear this, Turn and live ! \nYea, what a welcome word would it be to thyself, \nwhen thou hast felt that wrath of God but an hour ! \nOr, if after a thousand or ten thousand years' torment, \nthou couldst but hear such a word from God, Turn \nand live ; and yet wilt thou neglect it, and suffer U3 \nto return without our errand ? \n\nBehold, sinners, we are sent here as the messengers \nef the Lord, to set before you life and death. What \n6ay you ? which of them will you choose ? Christ \nstandeth, as it were, by thee, with heaven in the one \nhand, and hell in the other, and offereth thee thy \nchoice. Which wilt thou choose ? The voice of the \nLord maketh the rocks to tremble. Psalm 29. And is \nit nothing to hear him threaten thee, if thou wilt not \nturn 1 Dost thou not understand and feel this voice, \n\" Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die V Why ? It is \nthe voice of love, of infinite love, of thy best and kindest \nfriend, as thou mightest easily perceive by the motion; \nand yet canst thou neglect it ? It is the voice of pity \nand compassion. The Lord seeth whither thou art \ngoing better than thou dost, which makes him call \nafter thee. Turn, turn. He seeth what will become \nof thee, if thou turn not. He thinketh with himself, \n\" Ah ! this poor sinner will cast himself into endless \ntorments if he do not turn. I must in justice deal with \nhim according to my righteous law.\" And therefore \nhe calleth after thee, Turn, turn. O sinner ! If thou \ndidst but know the thousandth part, as well as God \ndoth, the danger that is near you, and the misery \n\n\n\n96 A CALL TO Doct. fc \n\nthat you are running into, we should have no more \nneed to call after ycu to turn. \n\nMoreover, this voice that calleth to thee is the same \nthat hath prevailed with thousands already, and called \nall to heaven that are now there ; and they would not \nnow for a thousand worlds that they had made light \nof it, and not turned to God. Now, what are they \npossessing that turned at God's call ? Now they per- \nceive that it was indeed the voice of love, that meant \nthem no more harm than their salvation ; and if thou \nwilt obey the same call thou shalt come to the same \nhappiness. There are millions that must for ever la- \nment that they turned not ; but there is never a soul \nin heaven that is sorry that they were converted. \n\nWell, sirs, are you yet resolved, or are you not? \nDo I need to say any more to you? What will you \ndo? Will you turn or not ? Speak, man, in thy heart, \nto God, though you speak not out to me ; speak, lest \nhe take thy silence for denial; speak quickly, lest he \nnever make thee the like offer more ; speak resolvedly, \nand not waveringly, for he will have no indifferenta \nto be his followers. Say in thine heart now, without \nany more delay, even before thou stir hence, \" By the \ngrace of God I am resolved presently to turn. And \nbecause I know my own insufficiency, I am resolved \nto wait on God for his grace, and to follow him in his \nways, and forsake my former courses and companions \nand give up myself to the guidance of the Lord.\" \n\nSirs, you are not shut up in the darkness of hea- \nthenism, nor in the desperation of the damned. Life \nis before you, and you may have it on reasonable \nter ms, if you will : yea, on free cost, if you will accept \nit. The way of God lieth plain before you ; the church \nis t >pen to you. You may have Christ, and pardon, \n\n\n\ni DocU 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 97 \n\nand holiness, if you will. What say you ? Will you \nor will you not '? If you say nay, or say nothing, and \nstill go on, God is witness, and this congregation is \nwitness, and your awn consciences are witnesses, how \nfair an offer you had this day. Remember, you might \nhave had Christ, and would not. Remember, when \nycu have lost it, that you might have had eternal life, \nas well as others, and would not ; and all because you \nwould not turn ! \n\nBut let us come to the next doctrine, and hear your \nreasons. \n\nDOCTRINE VI. \n\nThe Lord condescendeth to reason the case with \nunconverted sinners, and to ask them why they \n■will die. \n\nA strange disputation it is, both as to tho contro- \nversy and as to the disputants. \n\nI. The controversy, or question propounded to dis- \npute of is, Why wicked men will destroy themselves? \nor, Why they will rather die than turn; whether \nthey have any sufficient reason for so doing ? \n\nII. The disputants are God and man : the most \nholy God, and wicked unconverted sinners. \n\nIs it not a strange thing, winch God doth here seem \nto suppose, that any man should be willing to die and \nbe damned ? yea, that this should be the case of the \nwicked ? that is, of the greatest part of the world. But \nyou will say, \" This cannot be ; for nature desireth \nthe preservation and felicity of itself; and the wicked \nare more selfish than others, and not less ; and there- \ntore how can any man be willing to be damned ?\" \n\nTo which I answer :— 1. It is a certain truth that \n\nBax. CalL 9 \n\n\n\n98 A CALL TO Doct. 6 '. \n\nno man can be willing to bear any evil, as evil, but \nonly as it hath some appearance of good ; much less \ncan any man be willing to be eternally tormented,. \nMisery, as such, is desired by none. 2. But yet for \nall that, it is most true which God here teacheth us, \nthat tile cause why the wicked die is, because they \nwill die. And this is true in several respects. \n\n1, Because they will go the way that leads to hell, \nalthough they are told by God and man whither it \ngoes and whither it ends ; and though God hath so \noften professed in his word, that if they hold on in \nthat way they shall be condemned ; and that they \nshall not be saved unless they turn. Isa. 48 : 22; 57 : \n21 j 59 : 8, \" There is no peace, saith the Lord, to the \nwicked.\" \" The way of peace they know not ; there \nis no judgment in their goings ; they have made them \ncrooked paths. Whosoever goeth therein shall not \nknow peace.\" They have the word and the oath of \nthe living God for it, that if they will not turn they \nshall not enter into his rest : and yet, wicked they are. \nand wicked they will be, let God and man say what \nthey will : fleshly they are, and fleshly they will be, \nworldlings they are, and worldlings they will be, \nthough God hath told them that the love of the world \nis enmity to God, and that if any man love the world \n(in that measure) the love of the Father is not in him \nJames, 4 : 4 ; 1 John, 2 : 15. So that, consequently, \nthese men are willing to be damned, though not di- \nrectly ; they are willing to walk in the way to hell, \nand love the certain cause of their torment ; though \nthey do not will hell itself, and do not love the pain \nwhich they must endure. \n\nIs not this the truth of your case sirs ? You woulo \nnot burn in hell, but you will kindle the fire by your \n\n\n\nDoct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 99 \n\nsins, and cast yourselves into it ; you would not be \ntormented with devils for ever, but you will do that \nwhich will certainly procure it in spite of all that can \nbe said against it. It is just as if you would say, \" I \nwill drink this poison, but yet I will not die. I will \ncast myself headlong from the top of a steeple, but yet \nI will not kill myself. I will thrust this knife into my \nheart, but yet I will not take away my life. I will put \nthis fire into the thatch of my house, but yet I will not \nburn it.\" Just so it is with wicked men ; they will be \nwicked, and they will live after the flesh and the \nworld, and yet they would not be damned. But do \nyou not know that the means lead to the end ? and \nthat God hath, by his righteous law, concluded that \nye must repent or perish ? He that will take poison \nmay as well say plainly, I will kill myself, for it will \nprove no better in the end ; though perhaps he loved \nit for the sweetness of the sugar that was mixed with \nit, and would not be persuaded that it was poison, \nbut that he might take it and do well enough ; but it \nis not his conceits and confidence that will save his \nlife. So if you will be drunkards, or fornicators, or \nworldlings, or live after the flesh, you may as well \nsay plainly, We will be damned ; for so you wall be \nunless you turn. Would you not rebuke the folly of a \nmurderer that would say I will kill, but I will not be \nhanged, when he knows that if he does the one, the \njudge in justice will see that the other be done ? If he \nsay I will murder, he may as well say plainly, I will \nbe hanged ; and if you will go on in a carnal life, you \nmay as well say plainly, We will go to hell. \n\n2. Moreover, the wicked will not use those means \nwithout which there is no hope of their salvation. He \nthat will not eat, may as well say plainly, he will \n\n\n\n100 A CALL TO DocC • \n\nnot live, unless he can tell how to live without meat \nHe that will not go his journey, may as well say \nplainly he will not come to the end. He that falls i nto \nthe water, and will not come out, nor suffer another \nto help him out, may as well say plainly, he will be \ndrowned. So if you be carnal and ungodly, and will \nnot be converted, nor use the means by which you \nshould be converted, but think it more ado than needs, \nyou may as well say plainly you will be damned ; for \nif you have found out a way to be saved without con- \nversion, you have done that which was never done \nbefore. \n\n3. Yea, this is not all ; but the wicked are unwilling \neven to partake of salvation itself; though they may \ndesire somewhat which they call by the name of hea- \nven, yet heaven itself, considered in the true nature \nof the felicity, they desire not; yea, their hearts are \nquite against it. Heaven is a state of perfect holiness, \nand of continual love and praise to God, and the \nwicked have no heart to this. The imperfect love, \nand praise, and holiness, which is here to be attained, \nthey have no mind for ; much less for that which is \nso much greater. The joys of heaven are of so pure \nand spiritual a nature that the heart of the wicked \ncannot truly desire them. \n\nSo that by this time you may see on what ground \nit is that God supposeth that the wicked are willing \ntheir own destruction. They will not turn, though \nthey must turn or die : they will rather venture on \ncertain misery than be converted ; and then to quiet \nthemselves in their sins, they will make themselves \nbelieve that they shall nevertheless escape. \n\nII. And as this controversy is matter of wonder, in \nthat men should be such enemies to themselves as \n\n\n\nDoct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 101 \n\nwilfully to cast away their souls, so are the disputants \ntoo : that God should stoop so low as thus to plead the \ncase with men ; and that men should be so strangely \nblind and obstinate as to need all tins in so plain a \ncase ; yea, and to resist all tins, when their own sal- \nvation lieth upon the issue. \n\nNo wonder that they will not hear us that are men \nwhen they will not hear the Lord himself. As God \nsaith, (Ezek. 3 : 7.) when he sent the prophet to the \nIsraelites, \" The house of Israel will not hearken \nunto thee ; for they will not hearken unto me ; for all \nthe house of Israel are impudent and hard-hearted.\" \nNo wonder if they can plead against a minister, or a \ngodly neighbor, when they will plead against the \nLord himself, even against the plainest passages oi \nhis word, and think that they have reason on their \nside. When they weary the Lord with their words, \nthey say, \" Wherein have we wearied him?\" Mai. \n2 : 17. The priests that despised his name durst ask, \n\" Wherein have we despised thy name ?\" And \n\" when they polluted his altar, and made the table \nof the Lord contemptible,\" they durst say, \" Wherein \nhave we polluted thee ?\" Mai. 1 : 6. 7. But \" Wo \nunto him (saith the Lord) that striveth with his Ma- \nker ! Let the potsherds strive with the potsherds of \nthe earth : shall the clay say to him that fashioneth \nit, What makest thou V \n\nQuest. But why is it that God will reason the case \nwith man ? \n\nAnsw. 1. Because that man being a reasonable \ncreature, is accordingly to be dealt with, and by rea- \nson to be persuaded and overcome ; God hath there- \nfore endowed them with reason, that they might use \nit for him. One would think a reasonable creature \n\n\n\n102 A CALL TO I)oct. 8 \n\nshould not go against the clearest, the greatest reason \nin the world, when it is set before him. \n\n2. At least, men shall see that God did require no- \nthing of them that was unreasonable ; but both in what \nhe commandeth them, and what he forbids them, he \nhath all the right reason in the world on his side; \nand they have good reason to obey him — but none to \ndisobey him. And thus even the damned shall be \nforced to justify God, and confess that it was only rea- \nsonable that they should have turned to him ; and \nthey shall be forced to condemn themselves, and con- \nfess that they had little reason to cast away them • \nselves by the neglecting of his grace in the day of \ntheir visitation. \n\nUse. — Look up your best and strongest reasons, sin« \nners, if you will make good your way. You see now \nwith whom you have to deal. What sayest thou, \nunconverted sensual sinner ? Darest thou venture \nupon a dispute with God ? Art thou able to confute \nhim ? Art thou ready to enter the lists ? God asketh \nthee, Why wilt thou die? Art thou furnished with a \nsufficient answer? Wilt thou undertake to prove \nthat God is mistaken, and that thou art in the right ? \nO what an undertaking is that! Why, cither he or \nyou are mistaken, when he is for your conversion, and \nyou are against it : he calls upon you to turn, and \nyou will not ; he bids you do it presently, even to-day, \nwhile it is called to-day, and you delay, and think it \ntime enough hereafter. He saith it must be a total \nchange, and you must be holy and new creatures, and \nborn again; and you think that less may serve the \nturn, and that it is enough to patch up the old man, \nwithout becoming new. Who is in the right now? \n\n\n\npoet. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 103 \n\nGod or yon ? God calleth you to turn, and to live a \nholy life, and you will not : by your disobedient lives \nit appears you will not. Jf you will, why do you not'? \nWhy have you not done it all this while ? And why \ndo you not fall upon it yet ? Your wills have the \ncommand of your lives. We may certainly conclude \nthat you are unwilling to turn when you do not turn. \nAnd why will you not ? \n\nCan you give any reason for it that is worthy to \nbe called a reason ? \n\nI that am but a worm, your fellow creature, of a \nshallow capacity, dare challenge the wisest of you \nall to reason the case with me while I plead my Ma- \nker's cause ; and I need not be discouraged when I \nknow I plead but the cause that God pleadetli, and \ncontend for him that will have the best at last. Had \nI but these two general grounds against you, I am \nsure that you have no good reason on your side. \n\nI am sure it can be no good reason which is against \nthe God of truth and reason. It cannot be light that \nis contrary to the sun. There is no knowledge in any \ncreature but what it had from God ; and therefore \nnone can be wiser than God. It were fatal presump- \ntion for the highest angel to compare with his Crea- \ntor ! What is it then for a lump of earth, an ignorant \nsot, that knoweth not himself nor his own soul, that \nknoweth but little of the things which he seeth, yea, \nthat is more ignorant than many of his neighbors, to \nset himself against the wisdom of the Lcrd ! It is one \nof the fullest discoveries of the horrible wickedness of \ncarnal men, and the stark madness of such as si% \nthat so silly a mole dare contradict his Maker, and \ncall in question the word of God: yea, that those \npeople in our parishes that are so ignorant that they \n\n\n\n104 A CALL TO Doct 8. \n\ncannot give us a reasonable answer concerning the \nvery principles of religion, are yet so wise in their \nown conceit, that they dare question the plainest \ntruths of God, yea, contradict them, and cavil against \nthem, when they can scarcely speak sense, and will \nbelieve them no further than agreeth with their fool- \nish wisdom ! \n\nAnd as I know that God must needs be in the right, \neo I know the cause is so palpable and gross which \nhe pleadeth against, that no man can have reason \nfor it. Is it possible that a man can have any reason \nto break his Maker's laws, and reason to dishonor the \nLord of glory, and reason to abuse the Lord that \nbought him? Is it possible that a man can have any \ngood reason to damn his own immortal soul ? Mark the \nLord's question, Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die? \nIs eternal death a thing to be desired ? Are you in love \nwith hell ? What reason have you wilfully to perish ? \nIf you think you have some reason to sin, should you \nnot remember that death is the wages of sin, (Rom. \n6: 23.) and think whether you have any reason to \nundo yourselves, body and soul for ever? You should \nnot only ask whether you love the adder, but whether \nyou love the sting ? It is such a thing for a man to cast \naway his everlasting happiness, and 1o sin against \nGod, that, no good reason can be given for it ; but the \nmore any one pleads for it. the more mad he showeth \nhimself to be. Had you a lordship, or a kingdorr \noffered you for every sin that you commit, ii were not \nreason, but madness to accept it. Could you by every \nsin obtain the highest thing on earth that flesh desireth, \nit were of no considerable value to persuade you in \nreason to commit it. If it were to please your great- \nest or den rest friends, or to obey the greatest prince on \n\n\n\nDoct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 105 \n\nearth, or to save your lives, or to escape the greatest \nearthly misery; all these are of no consideration to \ndraw a man in reason to the committing of one sin. \nIf it were a right hand, or a right eye that would \nhi ruler your salvation, it is the most gainful way to \ncast ii avvay, rather than to go to hell to save it ; lor \nthere is no saving a part when you lose the whole. \nSo exceedingly great are the matters of eternity, that \nncthing in this world deserveth once to be named in \nccmpa;ison with them; nor can any earthly thing, \nthough it were life, or crowns, or kingdoms, he a rea- \nsonable excuse for the neglect of matters of such high \nand everlasting consequence. A man can have no \nreason to crf/ss his ultimate end. Heaven is such a \nthing, that if you lose it, nothing can supply the want, \nor make up the loss; and hell is such a thing, that if \nyon r-uffer it, nothing can remove your misery, or give \nyou ease and comfort; and therefore nothing can \nbe a valuable consideration to excuse you for neg- \nlecting your own salvation; for, saith our Savior, \n\" What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the \nwhole world, and lose his own soul?\" Mark, 8: 36. \nO sirs, that you did but know what matters they are \nthat we are now speaking to you of! you would have \nother kind of thoughts of these things. If the devil \ncould come to the saints in heaven that live in the \neight and love of God, and should offer them sensual \npleasures, or merry company, or sports to entice them \navvay from God and glory, I pray you tell me, how do \nyou think they would entertain the motion ? Nay, or \nif he should offer them to be kings on the earth, do you \nthink this would entice them down from heaven ? O \nwith what hatred and holy scorn would they reject \nthe motion ! And why should not you do so, that have \n\n\n\n106 A CALL TO Dcct. 6. \n\nheaven opened to your faith, if you had but faith to see \nit ? There is never a soul in hell but knows, by this \ntime, that it was a mad exchange to let go heaven \nfor fleshly pleasure : and that it is not a little mirth, \nor pleasure, or worldly riches, or honor, -or the good \nwill or word of men, that will quench hell fire, or \nmake him a gainer that loseth his soul. O if you had \nheard what I believe, if you had seen what I believe, \nand that on the credit of the word of God, you would \nsay there can be no reason to warrant a man to destroy \nhis soul ; you durst not sleep quietly another night, \nbefore you had resolved to turn and live. \n\nIf you see a man put his hand in the fire till it \nburn off, you will marvel at it; but this is a thing that \na man may have a reason for, as Bishop Cranmer had \nwhen he burnt off his hand for subscribing to Popery. \nIf you see a man cut off a leg, or an arm, it is a sad \nsight; but this is a thing that a man may have a \ngood reason for, as many a man hath it done to save \nhis life. If you see a man give his body to be tor- \nmented with scourges and racks, or to be burned to \nashes, and refuse deliverance when it is offered, thia \nis a hard case to flesh and blood ; but this a man may \nhave good reason for. as you may see in Heb. 11: 33, \n36, and as many a hundred martyrs have done. But \nfor a man to forsake the Lord that made him, and to \nrun into the fire of hell when he is told of it, and en- \ntreated to turn that he may be saved — this is a thing \nthat can have no reason in the world to justify or ex- \ncuse it. For heaven will pay for the loss of any thing \nthat we can lose to obtain it, or for any labor which \nwe bestow for it ; but nothing can pay for the loss of \nheaven. \n\nI beseech you now let this word come nearer to youj \n\n\n\nDoet. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 10? \n\nheart. As you are convinced that you have no reason \nto destroy yourselves, so tell me what reason have you \nto refuse to turn and live to God ? What reason has \nthe veriest worldling, or dmnkard, or ignorant careless \nsinner of you all, why he should not be as holy as any \nyou know, and be as careful for his soul as any other? \nWill not hell be as intolerable to you as to others ? \nShould not your own souls be as dear to you as theirs \nto them ? Hath not God as much authority over you? \nWhy then will you not become a sanctified people, as \nwell as they? \n\nO, sirs, when God bringeth the matter down to the \nvery principles of nature, and shows that you have \nno more reason to be ungodly than you have to damn \nyour own souls — if yet you will not understand and \nturn, it seems a desperate case that you are m. \n\nAnd now, either you have good reason for what you \ndo, or you have not : if not, will you go against rea- \nson itself? Will you do that which you have no rea- \nson for? But if you think you have a reason, produce \nit, and make the best of your matter. Reason the \ncase a little with me, your fellow creature, which is \nfar easier than to reason the case with God; tell me, \nman, here before the Lord, as if thou wert to die this \nhour, why should est thou not resolve to turn this day, \nbefore thou stir from the place thou standest in ; wha.1 \nreason hast thou to deny or to delay? Hast thou any \nreasons that satisfy thine own conscience for it, or any \nthat thou darest own and plead at the bar of God? If \nthou hast, let us hear them, bring them forth, and \nmake them good. But, alas ! what poor stuflj what \nnonsense, instead of reasons, do we daily hear from \nungodly men! But for their necessity I should be \nashamed to name them. \n\n\n\n108 A CALL TO Doci. <W \n\nObjection 1. One saith. if none shall be saved but \nsuch converted and sanctified ones as you talk of, then \nheaven would be but empty ; then God help a great \nmany ! \n\nAnswer. Why, it seems you think that God doth \nnot know, or else that he is not to be believed ! Mea- \nsure not all by yourselves : God hath thousands and \nmillions of his sanctified ones; but yet they are few \nin comparison of the world, as Christ himself hath \ntold us, Matt. 7 : 13, 14. Luke, 11 : 32. It better be- \nseems you to make that use of this truth which Christ \nleacheth you: \" Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; \nfor strait is the gate and narrow is the way that \nleadeth unto life, and few there be that find it j but \nwide is the gate and broad is the way which leadeth \nto destruction, and many there be that go in thereat.\" \nLuke, 13 : 22—24. Fear not, little flock, (saith Christ \nto his sanctified ones,) for it is your Father's good \npleasure to give you the kingdom. Luke, 12 : 32. \n\nObject. 2. I am sure, if such as I go to hell, we shall \nhave store of company. \n\nAnsw. And will that be any ease or comfort to you? \nOr do you think you may not have company enough \nin heaven? Will you be undone for company, or will \nyou not believe that God will execute his threaten- \nings, because there be so many that are guilty? These \nere all unreasonable conceits. \n\nObject. 3. But ail men are sinners, even the best oi \nyou all. \n\nAnsw. But all are not unconverted sinners. The \ngodly live not in gross sins; and their very infirmities \nare their grief and burden, which they daily long, \nand pray, and strive to be rid of. Sin hr.th not do- \nminion over them. \n\n\n\nDoct.6. THE UNCONVERTED. 109 \n\nObject. 4. I do not see that professors are any bettei \nthan other men; they will overreach, and oppress, \nand are as covetous as any. \n\nAnsw. Whatever hypocrites are, it is not so with \nthose that are sanctified. God hath thousands, and \ntens of thousands that are otherwise, though the ma- \nlicious world doth accuse them of what they can never \nprove, and of that which never entered into their \nhearts; and commoniy they charge them with heart- \nsins, which none can see but God, because they can \ncharge them with no such wickedness in their lives \nas they are guilty of themselves. \n\nObject. 5. But I am no whoremonger, nor drunkard, \nnor oppressor ; and therefore why should you call upon \nme to be converted ? \n\nAnsw. As if you were not born after the flesh, and \nhad not lived after the flesh, as well as others ! Is it \nnot as great a sin as any of these, for a man to have \nan earthly mind, and to love the world above God, \nand to have an unbelieving, unhumbled heart ? Nay, \nlet me tell you more, that many persons that avoid \ndisgraceful sins are as fast glued to the world, and as \nmuch slaves to the flesh, and as strange to God, and \naverse to heaven in their more civil course, as others \nare in their more shameful notorious sins. \n\nObject. 6. But I mean nobody any harm, nor do \nany harm ; and why then should God condemn me? \n\nAnsw. Is it no harm to neglect the Lord that made \nthee, and the w r ork for winch thou earnest into the \nworld, and to prefer the creature before the Creator, \nand to neglect grace that is daily offered thee? It is \nthe depth of thy sinfulness to be so insensible of it : \nthe dead feel not that they are dead. If once thou \n\nBax. Call. jq \n\n\n\n110 A CALL TO Doct. * \n\nwert made alive, thou wouldst see more amiss in thv \nself, and marvel at thyself for making so light of it. \n\nObject. 7. I think you would make men mad, under \npretence of converting them: it is enough to rack the \nbrains of simple people to muse so much on matters \nbo high for them. \n\nAnsw. 1. Can you be more mad than you are al- \nready? or, at >ast, can there be a more dangerous \nmadness than to neglect your everlasting welfare, \nand wilfully undo yourselves ? \n\n2. A man is never well in his wits till he be con- \nverted: he never knows God, nor knows sin, nor knows \nChrist, nor knows the world, nor himself, nor what his \nDusiness is on earth, so as to set himself about it, till \nhe be converted. The Scripture saith, that the wicked \nare unreasonable men, (2 Thess. 3 : 2,) and that the \nwisdom of the world is foolishness with God. 1 Cor. \n1 : 20. and Luke 15 : 17. It is said of the prodigal, \nthat when he came to himself he resolved to return. \nWhat a strange wisdom is this; men will disobey \nGod, and run to hell, for fear of being out of their wits? \n\n3. What is there in the work that Christ calls you \nto, that should drive a man out of his Avits ? Is it the \nloving God, and calling upon him, and comfortably \nthinking of the glory to come, and the forsaking of \nour sins, and loving one another, and delighting our- \neelves in the service of God % Are these such things \nas should make men mad ? \n\n4. And whereas you say that these matters are too \nhigh for us ; you accuse God himself for making this our \nwork', and giving us his word, and commanding all \nthat will be blessed to meditate on it day and n ; ght« \nAre the matters which we are made for, and which \nwe live for, toe high for us to meddle with ? This i§ \n\n\n\nOocV6. THE UNCONVERTED. Ill \n\nplainly to unman us. and to make beasts of us, as if \nwe were like them that must meddle with no higher\" \nmatters than what belongs to flesh and earth. If \nheaven be too high for you to think on and provide \nfor, it will be too high for you ever to possess. \n\n5. If God should sometimes surfer any weak-headed \npersons to be distracted by thinking of eternal things, \nthis is because they misunderstand them, and run \nwithout a guide ; and of the two, I had rather be in \nthe case of such a one, than of the mad unconverted \nworld, that take their distraction to be their wisdom. \n\nObject. 8. I do not think that God cares so much \nwhat men think, or speak, or do, as to make so great \na matter of it. \n\nAnsw. It seems, then, you take the word of God to \nbe false : then what will you believe ? But your own \nreason might teach you better, if you believe not the \nscriptures; for you see God sets not so light by us but \nthat he vouchsafed to make us, and still preserveth us, \nand daily upholdeth us, and provideth for us ; and will \nany wise man make a curious frame for nothing? \nWill you make or buy a clock or watch, and daily \nlook at it, and not care whether it go true or false ? \nSurely, if you believe not a particular eye of Provi- \ndence observing your hearts and lives, you camiot be- \nlieve or expect any particular Providence to observe \nyour wants and troubles, or to relieve you; and it \nGod had so little care for you as you imagine, you \nwould never have lived till now ; a hundred diseases \nwould have striven which should first destroy you ; \nyea, the devils would have haunted you, and fetched \nyou away alive, as the great fishes devour the less, \nand as ravenous beasts and birds devour others. You \ncannot think that God made man for no end or use; \n\n\n\n112 A CALL TO Doei.%. \n\nand if he made him for any, it was sureiy for himself j \nand can you think he cares not whether his end be \naccomplished, and whether we do the work that we \nare made for 1 \n\nYea, by this atheistical objection you make God to \nhave made and upheld all the world in vain ; for what \nare all other lower creatures for, but for man ? Whai \ndoth the earth but bear us and nourish us, and the \nbeasts but serve us with their labors and lives, and so \nof the rest? And hath God made so glorious a habita- \ntion, and set man to dwell in it, and made all his ser- \nvants ; and now doth he look for nothing at Ins hands, \nnor care how he thinks, or speaks, or lives ? This is \nmost unreasonable. \n\nObject. 9. It was a better world when men did not \nmake so much ado in religion. \n\nAnsw. 1. It hath ever been the custom to praise the \ntimes past ; that world that you speak of was wont to \nsay it was a better world in their forefathers' days ; \nand so did they of their forefathers. This is but an \nold custom, because Ave all feel the evil of our own \ntimes, but we see not that which was before us. \n\n2. Perhaps you speak as you think. Worldlings \nthink the world is at the best when it is agreeable to \ntheir minds, and when they have most mirth and \nworldly pleasure; and I doubt not but the devil, as well \nas you, would say, that then it was a better wor -d , \nfor then he had more service, and less disturbance. \nBut the world is at the best when God is most loved, \nregarded, and obeyed ; and how else will you know \nwhen the world is good or bad, but by this? \n\nObject. 10. There are so many ways and religions, \nthat we know not which to be of, and therefore we \nwill be even as we are. \n\n\n\nDott.6. T HE UNCONVERTED. 113 \n\nAnsw. Because there are many, will you be of that \nway that you may he sure is wrong ? None are further \nout of the way than worldly, fleshly, unconverted sin- \nners; for they do not only err in this or that opinion, \nas many sects do, but in the very scope and drift of \ntheir lives. If you were going a journey that your \nlife la}* on, would you stop, or turn again, because you \nmet with some cross-ways, or because you saw some \ntravellers go the horse-way, and some the loot-way, \nand some perhaps break over tne hedge, yea, and \nsome miss the way ? Or would you not rather be the \nmore careful to inquire the way? If you have some \nservants that know not how to do your work right, \nand some that are unfaithful, would you take it well \nof any of the rest that would therefore be idle and do \nyou no service, because they see their companions \nso bad? \n\nObject. 11. I do not see that it goes any better with \nthose that are so godly, than with other men; they \nare as poor and in as much trouble as others. \n\nAnsio. And perhaps in much more, when God sees \nit meet. They take not eartrdy prosperity for their \nwages; they have laid up their treasure and hopes in \nanother world, or else they are not Christians indeed; \nthe less they have, the more is behind, and they are \ncontent, to wait till then. \n\nObject. 12. When you have said all that you can, I \nam resolved to hope well, and trust in God, and do aa \nwell as I can, and not make so much ado. \n\nAnsiD. 1. Is that doing as well as you can, when \nyou will not turn to God, but your heart is against \nhis holy and diligent service? It is as well as you will, \nindeed, but thac is your misery. \n\n2. My desire is, that you should hope and trust ifl \n\"io* \n\n\n\n114 A CALL TO Doct. 6. \n\nGod. Bat for what is it that you will hope? Is it to \nbe saved, if you turn and be sanctified? For this you \nhave God's promise, and therefore hope for it, and \nspare not. But if you hope to be saved without con- \nversion, and a holy life, this is not to hope in God, but \nin Satan, or yourselves ; for God hath given you no \nsuch promise, but told you the contrary ; but it is \nSatan and self-love that made you such promises, and \nraised you to such hopes. \n\nWell, if these, and such as these, be all you have \nto say against conversion, and a holy life, your all is \nnothing, and worse than nothing; and if these, and \nsuch as these, seem reasons sufficient to persuade you \nto forsake God, and cast yourselves into hell, the Lord \ndeliver you from such reasons, and from such blind \nunderstandings, and from such senseless hardened \nhearts. Dare you stand to aver one of these reasons \nat the bar of God ? Do you think it will then serve \nyour turn to say, \" Lord, I did not turn, because I had \nso much to do in the Avorld, or because I did not like \nthe lives of some professors, or because I saw men of \nso many minds!\" O how easily will the light of that \nday confound and shame such reasonings as these ! \nHad you the world to look after? Let the world which \nyou served now pay you your wages, and save you if \nit can. Had you not a better world to look after first, \nand were ye not commanded to seek first God's king- \ndom and righteousness, and promised that other things \nshould be added to you ? Matt. 6 : 33. And were ye \nnot told, that godliness was profitable to ail things, \nhaving the promise of this life, and that which is to \ncome? 1 Tim. 4 : 8. Did the sins of the professors \nhinder you ? You should rather have been the more \nheedfuL, and learned by their falls to beware, and have \n\n\n\nDoct. 6. THE UNCONVERTED. 115 \n\nbeen the more careful, and not to be more careless. It \n■was the Scripture, and not their lives, that was your \nrule. Did the many opinions of the world hinder \nyou? Why the Scripture that was your rule did \nteach you but one way, and that was the right way. \nIf you had followed that, even in so much as was plain \nand easy, you should never have miscarried. Will \nnot such answers as these confound and silence you ? \nIf these will not, God hath those that will. When \nhe asked the man, \" Friend, how earnest thou in \nhither, not having on a wedding garment?\" Matt. \n22 : 12, that is, what dost thou in my church among \nprofessed Christians, without a holy heart and life — \nwhat answer did he make? Why. the text saith, \"he \nwas speechless ; : ' he had nothing to say. The clear- \nness of the i^ase, and the majesty of God, will then \neasily stop the mouths of the most confident of you, \nthough you will not be put down by any thing we \ncan say to you now, but will make good your cause \nbe it ever so bad. I know already that never a reason \nthat now you can give me will do you any good at \nlast, when your case must be opened before the Lord, \nand all the world. \n\nNay, I scarce think that your own consciences are \nwell satisfied with your reasons ; for if they are, it \nseems, then, you have not so much as a purpose to \nrepent. But if you do purpose to repent, it seems \nyou do not put much confidence in your reasons which \nyou bring against it. \n\nWhat say you, unconverted sinners ? Have you \nany good reasons to give why you should not turn, \nand presently turn with all your hearts ? Or will you \ngo to hell in despite of reason itself? Bethink you \nwhat you do in time, for it will shortly be too late to \n\n\n\n116 A CALL TO D«t. «. \n\nbethink you. Can you find any fault with God, or \nhis work, or his wages ? Is he a bad master ? Is the \ndevil, whom ye serve, a better ? or is the flesh a bet- \nter ? Is there any harm in a holy life ? Is a life of \nworldliness and ungodliness better ? Do you think in \nyour consciences that it would do you any harm to be \nconverted and live a holy life ? What harm can it \ndo you ? Is it harm to you to have the Spirit of Christ \nwithin you, and to have a cleansed purified heart ? \nIf it be bad to be holy, why doth God sav, \" Be ye \nholy, for I am holy?\" 1 Pet. 1 : 15, 16; Lev. 20 : 7. \nIs it evil to be like God ? Is it not said that God made \nman in his own image? Why, this holiness is his \nimage ; this Adam lost, and this Christ by his word \nand Spirit would restore to you, as he doth to all that \nhe will save. Tell me truly, as before the Lord, \nthough you are loth to live a holy life, had you not \nrather die in the case cf those that do so, than of \nothers ? If you were to die this day, had you not ra \nther die in the case of a converted man than of an un • \nconverted? of a holy and heavenly man than of a \ncarnal earthly man? and wouid you not say as Ba- \nlaam. (Numb. 23 : 10.) \" Let me die the death of the \nrighteous, and let my last end be like his I\" An-1 why \nwill you not now be of the mind that you will be of \nthen? First or last you must come to this, either to \nbe converted, or to wish you had been, when it is \ntoo late. \n\nBut what is it that yen are afraid of losing, if you \ni.urn ? Is it your friends? You Avill but change them ; \nGod will be your friend, and Christ and the Spirit \nwill be your friend ; and every Christian will be your \nfriend. You will get one friend that will stand you in \nmore stead than all the friends in the world could have \n\n\n\nDoct 6 THE UNCONVERTED. 117 \n\ndone. The friends you lose would have but enticed \nyou to hell, but could not have delivered you : but the \nfriend you get will save you from hell, and bring you \n10 his own eternal rest. \n\n, Is it your pleasures that you are afraid of losing ? \nYou think you shall never have a merry day again \nf or.ce \\*ou be converted. Alas ! that you should think \nt a greater pleasure to live in foolish sports and mer- \nriments, and please your flesh, than to live in the be- \nlieving thoughts of glory, and in the love of God, and \nin righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy \nGhost, in which the state of grace consisteth. Rom. \n14 : 17. If it would be a greater pleasure for you to \nthink of your lands and inheritance, if you were lord \nof all the country, than it is for a child to play at pins, \nwhy should it not be a greater joy to you to think of \nthe kingdom of heaven being yours, than of all the \nriches or pleasures of the world? As it is but foolish \nchildishness that makes children so delight in toys \nthat they would not leave them for all your lands, so \nit is but foolish worldliness, and fleshliness, and wick- \nedness, that makes you so much delight in your houses \nand lands, and meat and drink, and ease and honor, \n:is that you would not part with them for the heaven- \nly delights. But what will you do for pleasure when \nthese are gone ? Do you not think of that ? When \nyour pleasures end in horror, and go out like a taper, \nthe pleasures of the saints are then at the best. I have \nhad myself but a little taste of the heavenly pleasures \nIn the forethoughts of the blessed approaching day, \nand in the present persuasions of the love of God in \nChrist ; but I have taken too deep a draught of earth- \nly pleasures : so that you may see, if I be partial, it is \non vour side ; and yet I must profess from that little \n\n\n\n118 A CALL TO Doct. 5. \n\nexperience, that there is no comparison. There ig \nmore joy to be had in a day, if the sun of life shine \nclear upon us, in the state of holiness, than in a whole \nlife of sinful pleasures. \" I had rather be a door-keeper \nin the nOuse of God than to dwell in the tents of wick- \nedness.\" Psalm 84 : 10. \" A day in his courts is better \nthan a thousand\" any where else. Psalm 84 : 10. The \nmirth of the wicked is like the laughter of a madman, \nthat knows not his own misery ; and therefore Solo- \nmon says of such laughter, ' : it is mad ; and of mirth, \nwhat doth it?\" Eccles. 2 : 2 ; 7 : 2, 6. \"It is better \nto go to the house of mourning than to go to the house \nof feasting ; for that is the end of all men, and the liv- \ning will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is better than \nlaughter ; for by the sadness of the countenance the \nheart is made better. The heart of the wise is in the \nhouse of mourning ; but the heart of fools is in the \nhouse of mirth. It is better to bear the rebuke of the \nwise, than to hear the song of fools ; for as the crack- \nling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the \nfool.\" Your loudest laughter is but like that of a man \nthat is tickled ; he laughs when he has no cause of \njoy. Judge, as you are men, whether this be a wise \nman's part. It is but your carnal unsanctified nature \nthat makes a holy life seem grievous to you, and a \ncourse of sensuality seem more delightful. If you will \nbut turn, the Holy Ghost will give you another na- \nture and inclination, and then it will be more pleasan' \nto you to be rid of your sin, than now it is to keep it \nand you will then say, that you knew not what ?• \ncomfortable life was till now, and that it was nevei \nwell with you till God and holiness were your delighi. \nQuestion. But how cometh it to pass that met \nshould be so unreasonable in the matters of salvation '< \n\n\n\nDoo. 0. THE UNCONVERTED. 119 \n\nThey have wit enough in other matters : what makes \nthein so loth to be convened that there should need \nso many words in so plain a case, and all will not do, \nbut the most will live and die unconverted ? \n\nAnswer. To name them only in a few words, the \ncauses are these : \n\n1. Men are naturally in love with the earth and \nflesh : they are born sinners, and their nature hath an \nenmity to God and goodness, as the nature of a ser- \npent hath to a man : and when all that we can say \ngoes against an habitual inclination of their natures, \nno marvel if it prevail little. \n\n2. They are in darkness, and know not the very \nthings they hear. Like a man that was born blind, \nand hears a high commendation of the light; but \nwhat will hearing do, unless he sees it ? They know \nnot what God is, nor what is the power of the cioss \nof Christ, nor what the Spirit of holiness is, nor what \nit is to live in love by faith : they know not the cer- \ntainty, and suitableness, and excellency of the hea- \nvenly inheritance. They know not what conversion \nand a holy mind and conversation is, even when they \nhear of it. They are in a mist of ignorance. They \nare lost and bewildered in sin ; like a man that has \nlost himself in the night, and knows not where he is, \nnor how to come to himself again, till the daylight \nrecover him. \n\n3. They are wilfully confident that they need no \nconversion, but some partial amendment, and that \nthey are in the way to heaven already, and are con- \nverted when they are not. And if you meet a man \nthat is quite out of his way, you may long enough \ncall on him to tum back again, if he will not believe \nyou that he is out of the way. \n\n\n\n120 A CALL TO D°et. 6. \n\n4. They are become slaves to their flesh, and \ndrowned in the world, to make provision fbi it. Their \nlusts, and passions, and appetites, have distracted \nthem, and got such a hand over them tint they can- \nnot tell how to deny them, or how to mind any thing \nelse ; so that the drunkard saith, I love a cup of good \ndrink, and I cannot forbear it ; the glutton saith, I \nlove good cheer, and I cannot forbear ; the fornicator \nsaith, I love to have my lust fulfilled, and I cannot \nforbear ; and the gamester loves to have his sports, \nand he cannot forbear. So that they are become even \ncaptivated slaves to their flesh, and their very wilful- \nness is become an impotency ; and what they would \nnot do, they say they cannot. And the worldling is \nso taken up with earthly things, that he hath neither \nheart, nor mind, nor time, for heavenly; but, as in \nPharaoh's dream, Gen. 41 : 4, the lean kine did eat \nup the fat ones ; so this lean and barren earth doth \neat up all the thoughts of heaven. \n\n5. Some are so carried away by the stream of evil \ncompany, that they are possessed with hard thoughts \nof a godly life, by hearing them speak against it ; or \nat least they think they may venture to do as they \nsee most do, and so they hold on in their sinful ways ; \nand when one is cut off, and cast into hell, and an- \nother snatched away from among them to the same \ncondemnation, it doth not much daunt them, because \nthey see not whither they are gone. Poor wretches, \nthey hold on in their ungodliness for all this ; for they \nlittle know that their companions are now lamenting \nit in torments. In Luke 10, the rich man in hell wouln \nfain have had one to warn his five brethren, lest they \nshould come to that place of torment. It is likely he \nknew their mirds and lives, and knew that they were \n\n\n\nDoct. 6, THE UNCONVERTED. 121 \n\nhasting thither, and little dreamt that he was there, \nyea, and would little have believed one that should \nhave told them so. I remember a passage that a gen- \ntleman, yet living, told me he saw upon a bridge over \nthe Severn * A man was driving a flock of fat lambs, \nand something meeting them, and hindering their \npassage, one of the lambs leapt upon the wall of the \nbridge, and his legs slipping from under him he fell \ninto the stream ; the rest seeing him, did, one after \ncne, leap over the bridge into the stream, and were all \njr almost all drowned. Those that were behind did \nlittle know what was become of them that were gone \nbefore ; but thought they might venture to follow their \ncompanions ; but as soon as ever they were over the \nwall, and falling headlong, the case was altered. \nEven so it is with unconverted carnal men. One dieth \nby them, and drops into hell, and another follows the \nsame way ; and yet they will go alter them, because \nthey think not whither they are gone. O, but when \ndeath hath once opened their eyes, and they see what \nis on the other side of the wall, even in another world, \nthen what would they give to be where they were ! \n\n6. Moreover, they have a subtle malicious enemy \nthat is unseen of them, and plays his game in the \ndark ; and it is his principal business to hinder their \nconversion ; and therefore to keep them where they \nare, by persuading them not to believe the Scriptures, \nor not to trouble their minds with these matters ; or \nby persuading them to think ill of a godly life, or to \nthink that more is enjoined than need be, and that \ndiey may be saved without conversion, and without \nall this stir ; and that God is so merciful that he will \naot damn any such as they ; or at least, that they may \n\n* Mr R. Rowly, of Shrewsbury, upoa Acham-Bridge. \nBax. Call. i| \n\n\n\n122 A CALL TO Doct. 1 \n\nstay a little longer, and take their pleasure, and fol- \nlow the world a little longer yet, and then let it go, \nand repent hereafter. And by such juggling, delud- \ning cheats as these, the devil keeps the mcst in his \ncaptivity, and leadeth them to his misery. \n\nThese, and such like impediments as these, do keep \nso many thousands unconverted, when God hath done \nso much, and Christ hath suffered so much, and mi- \nnisters have said so much for their conversion : when \ntheir reasons are silenced and they are not able to \nanswer the Lord that calls after them, \" Turn ye, \nturn ye, why will ye die V* yet all comes to nothing \nwith the greatest part of them ; and they leave us no \nmore to do after all, but to sit down and lament their \nwilful misery. \n\nI have now showed you the reasonableness of God's \ncommands, and the unreasonableness of wicked men's \ndisobedience. If nothing will serve their turn, but \nmen will yet refuse to turn, we are next to consider, \nwho is in fault if they be damned. And this brings \nme to the last doctrine ; which is, \n\nDOCTRINE VII. \n\nThat if after all this men will not turn, it is not the \nfault of God that they are condemned, but their \nown, even tJieir men wilfidness. They die be- \ncause they will, that is, because they will not turn. \nIf you will go to hell, what remedy '? God here ac- \nquits himself of your blood ; it shall not lie on him if \nyou be lost. A negligent minister may draw it upon \nhim; and those that encourage you or hinder you \nnot in sin, may draw it upon them ; but be sure of it, \nit shall not lie upon God. Saith the Lord, concern- \n\n\n\nDoet. 7 THE UNCONVERTED. 123 \n\ning his unprofitable vineyard : (Isa. 5 : 1, 4,) \" Judge, \nI pray you, betwixt me and my vineyard : what \ncould have been done more to my vineyard that I \nhave not done in it '?\" When he had planted it in a \nfruitful soil, and fenced it, and gathered out the stones, \nand planted it with the choicest vines, w T hat should ne \nhave done more to it 1 He hath made yci men, and \nendowed you with reason; he hath furnished you with \nall external necessaries ; all creatures are at your ser- \nvice; he hath given you a righteous perfect law. \nWhen ye had broken it, and undone yourselves, he \nhad pity on you, and sent his Son by a miracle of \ncondescending mercy to die for you, and be a sacrifice \nfor your sins ; and he was in Christ reconciling the \nworld to himself! \n\nThe Lord Jesus hath made you a deed of gift of \nhimself, and eternal life with him, on the condition \nyou will but accept it, and return. He hath on this \nreasonable condition offered you the free pardon of all \nyour sins ! he hath written this in his word, and sealed \nit by his Spirit, and sent it by his ministers : they \nhave made the offer to you a hundred and a hundred \ntimes, and called you to accept it, and to turn to God. \nThey have in his name entreated you, and reasoned \nthe case with you, and answered all your frivolous \nobjections. He hath long waited on you, and staid \nyour leisure, and suffered you to abuse him to his \nface ! He hath mercifully sustained you in the midst \nof your sins; he hath compassed you about with all \nsorts of mercies ; he hath also intermixed afflictions, \nto remind you of your folly, and call you to your \nsenses, and his Spirit has been often striving w r ith \nyour hearts, and saying there, \" Turn, sinner, turn \nto him that calleth thee : Whither art thou going? \n\n\n\nJ 24 A CALL TO !><>«• * \n\nWhat art thou doing 1 Dost thou know what will be \nthe end 7 How long wilt thou hate thy friends, and \nlove thine enemies 1 When wilt thou let go all, and \nturn and deliver thyself to God, and give thy Re- \ndeemer the possession of thy soul 1 When shall it \nonce be?\" These pleadings have been used with \nthee, and when thou hast delayed, thou hast been \nurged to make haste, and God hath called to thee, \n\" To-day, while it is called to-day, harden not thy \nheart.\" Why not now without any more delay? \nLife hath been set before you ; the joys of heaven \nhave been opened to you in the Gospel ; the certainty \nof them hath been manifested; the certainty of the \neverlasting torments of the damned hath been de- \nclared to you ; unless you would have had a sight of \nheaven and hell, what could you desire more ? Christ \nhath been, as it were, set forth crucified before your \neyes. Gal. 3:1. You have been a hundred times \ntold that you are but lost men till you come unto him ; \nas oft you have been told of the evil of sin, of the \nvanity of sin, the world, and all the pleasures and \nwealth it can afford ; of the shortness and uncertainty \nof your lives, and the endless duration of the joy or \ntorment of the life to come. All this, and more than \nthis have you been told, and told again, even till you \nwere weary of hearing it, and till you could make \nthe lighter of it, because you had so often heard it, \nlike the smith's dog, that is bi ought by custom to \nsleep under the noise of the hammers and when the \nsparks fly about his ears ; and though all this have \nnot converted you, yet you are alive, and might have \nmercy to this day, if you had but hearts to entertain \nit. And now let reason itself be the judge, whether il \nbe the fault of God or yours, if alter this you will be \n\n\n\nDoct. T. THE UNCONVERTED. 125 \n\nunconverted and be damned. If you die now, it is \nbecause you will die. What should be said more to \nyou, or what course should be taken that is moie like- \nly to prevail 1 Are you able to say, and make it good, \ny We would fain have been converted and become new \ncreatures, but we could not ; we would fain have for- \nsaken our sins, but we could not; we would have \nchanged our company, and our thoughts, and our dis- \ncourse, but we could not.\" Why could you not, if you \nwould 1 What hindered you but the wickedness of \nyour hearts ? Who forced you to sin, or who held you \nback from duty ? Had not you the same teaching, \nand time, and liberty to be godly, as your godly neigh- \nbors had ? Why then could not you have been godly \nas well as they ? Were the church doors shut against \nyou, or did you not keep away yourselves, or sit and \nsleep, or hear as if you did not hear % Did God put in \nany exceptions against you in his word, when he in- \nvited sinners to return ; and when he promised mercy \nto those that do return ? Did he say, \" I will pardon \nall that repent except thee ?\" Did he shut thee out \nfrom the liberty of his holy worship ? Did he forbid \nyou to pray to him any more than others ? You know \nhe did not. God did not drive you away from him, \nbut you forsook him, and ran away yourselves, and \nwhen he called you to him, you would not come. If \nGod had excepted you out of the general promise and \noffer of mercy, or had said to you, \" Stand off, I will \nhave nothing to do with such as you ; pray not to me, \nfor I will not hear you ; if you repent never so much, \nand cry for mercy never so much, I will not regard \nyou.\" If God had left you nothing to trust to but des- \nperation, then you had had a fair excuse ; you might \nhave said, \" To what end do I repent and turn, when \n11* \n\n\n\n1*26 A CALL TO Doct. 7 \n\nit will do no good ?\" But this was not your case : you \nmight have had Christ to be your Lord and Savior, \nyour head and husband, as well as others, and you \nwould not, because you felt yourselves not sick enough \nfor the physician : and because you could not spare \nyour disease. In your hearts you said as those rebels, \nLuke. 19 : 14, \" We will not have this man to reign \nover us.\" Christ would have gathered you under \nthe wings of his salvation, and you would not. Matt. \n23 : 37. What desires of your welfare did the Lord \nexpress in his holy word? With what compassion \ndid he stand over you, and say, \" O that my people \nhad hearkened unto me, and that they had walked in \nmy ways!\" Psalm 17 : 13; 76 : 13, u O that there \nwere such a heart in this people, that they would fear \nme, and keep all my commandments always, that it \nmight be well with them and with their children for \never !\" Deut. 5 : 29, \" O that they were wise, that \nthey understood this, that they would consider their \nlatter end !\" Deut. 32 : 29. He would have been your \nGod, and done all for you that your souls could well \ndesire : but you loved the world and your flesh above \nhim, and therefore you would not hearken to him : \nthough you complimented him, and gave him high \ntitles ; yet when it came to the closing, you would \nhave none of him. Psalm 81 : 11, 12. No marvel then \nif he gave you up to your own hearts' lusts, and you \nwalked in your own «ounsels. He condescends to rea- \nson, and pleads the case with you, and asks you, \n\" What is there in me, or my service, that you should \nbe so much against me ? What harm have 1 done \nthee, sinner? Have I deserved this unkind dealing at \nthy hand? Many mercies have I showed thee: for \nwhich of them dost thou thus despise mc ? Is it I, or \n\n\n\nDoct 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 127 \n\nis it satan, that is thy enemy? Is it I, or is it thy \ncarnal self that would undo thee ? Is it a holy life, \nor a life of sin that thou hast cause to fiy from ? If \nthou be undone, thou procurest this to thyself, by for- \nsaking me, the Lord that would have saved thee.\" \nJer. 2:7. \" Doth not thy own wickedness correct \nthee, and thy sin reprove thee ? Thou mayest see that \nit is an evil and bitter thing that thou hast forsaken \nme.\" Jer. 2 : 19. \" What iniquity have you found \nin me that you have followed after vanity, and for- \nsaken me ?\" Jer. 2 : 5, 6. He calleth out, as it were, \nto the brutes, to hear the controversy he hath against \nyou. Mic. 2 : 3, 5, \" Hear, O ye mountains, the Lord's \ncontroversy, and ye strong foundations of the earth ; \nfor the Lord hath a controversy with his people, and \nhe will plead with Israel. O my people, what have \nI done unto thee, and wherein have I wearied thee ? \ntestify against me, for I brought thee up out of Egypt, \nand redeemed tliee.\" \" Hear, O heavens, and give \near, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken. I have nou- \nrished and brought up children, and they have rebell- \ned against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the \nass his master's crib ; but Israel doth not know, my \npeople doth not consider ! Ah smful nation, a people \nladen with iniquity, a seed of evil doers !\" &c. Isaiah, \n1 : 2, 4. \" Do you thus requite the Lord, O foolish \npeople, and unwise? Is not he thy Father that bought \nthee? Hath he not made thee, and established thee?\" \nDeut. 32 : 6. When he saw that you forsook him, \neven for nothing, and turned away from the Lord of \nlife to hunt after the chaff and feathers of the world, \nhe told you of your folly, and called you to a more \nprofitable employment, Isaiah, 55 : 1, 3. \" Where- \nfore do ye spend your money for that which is not \n\n\n\n128 A CALL TO Doct. T \n\nbread, and your labor for that which satistieth not? \nHearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is \ngood, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. In- \ncline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your \neoul shall live ; and I will make an everlasting cove- \nnant with you, even the sure mercies of David. \nSeek ye the Lord while he may be found : call ye \nupon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake \nhis way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and \nlet him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy \nupon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly \npardon;\" and so Isa. 1 : 16 — 18. And when you would \nnot hear, what complaints have you put him to, charg- \ning it on you as your wilfulness and stubbornness. \nJer. 2 : 13, 13. \" Be astonished. O heavens, at this, \nand be horribly afraid; for my people have committed \ntwo evils; they have forsaken me, the fountain of \nliving waters, and hewed them out cisterns, broken \ncisterns, that can hold no water.\" Many a time halh \nChrist proclaimed that free invitation to you, Rev. \n22 : 17, \" Let him that is athirst come, and whosoever \nwill, let him take the water of life freely.\" But you \nput him to complain, after all his offers, \" They will \nnot come to me, that they may have life.\" John, 5 : \n40. He hath invited you to feast with him in the \nkingdom of his grace, and you have had excuses \nfrom your grounds, and )''our cattle, and your worldly \nbusiness ; and when you would not come, you have \nsaid you could not, and provoked him to resolve that \nyou should never taste of his supper. Luke, 14 : 16 — \n25. And who is it the fault of now but yourselves ? \nand what can you say is the chief cause of your dam- \nnation but your own wills'? you would be damned \nThe whole case is laid open by Christ himself. Prov. \n\n\n\nDocU 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 129 \n\n1 : 20 — 33. \" Wisdom crieth without, she uttereth her \nvoice ia the streets ; she crieth in the chief place of \nconcourse — How long, ye simple ones, will ye love \nsimplicity, and the scorners delight in their scorning, \nand fools hate knowledge ? Turn ye at my reproof. \nBehold, I will pour out my Spirit upon you, I will \nmake known my words unto you. Because I have \ncalled, and ye refused. I have stretched out my \nhands and no man regarded; but ye have set at \nnaught all my counsels, and would none of my re- \nproofs. I also will laugh at your calamity, I will \nmock when your fear cometh : when your fear cometh \nas desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirl- \nwind ; when distress and anguish cometh upon you, \nthen shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; \nthey shall seek me early, but they shall not find me, \nfor that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the \nfear of the Lord. They would none of my counsels ; \nthey despised all my reproofs; therefore shall they eat \nof the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their \nown devices. For the turning away of the simple \nshall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall de- \nstroy them. But whoso hearkeneth to me shall dwell \nsafely, and shall be quiet from tire fear of evil.\" I \nthought best to recite the whole text at large to you, \nbecause it doth so fully show the cause of the destruc- \ntion of the wicked. It is not because God would not \nteach them, but because they would not learn. It is \nnot because God would not call them, but because \nthey would not turn at Ins reproof. Their wilfulness \nis their undoing. \n\nUse, — From what hath been said, you may further \n»earn these following things : \n\n1. From hence you may see, not only what bla&- \n\n\n\nphemy and impiety it is to lay the blame of men's \ndestruction upon God. but also how unfit these wicked \nwretches aro to oring in sucn a charge against their \nMaker ! They cry out upon God. and say he gives \nthem not grace, and his threatenings are severe, and \nGod forbid that all should be condemned that be not \nconverted and sanctified; and they think it hard \nmeasure that a short sin should have an endless suf- \nfering; and if they be damned they say they cannot \nhelp it, when, in the meantime, they are busy about \ntheir own destruction, even the destruction of their \nown souls, and will not be persuaded to hold their \nhands. They think God were cruel if he should con- \ndemn them, and yet they are so cruel to themselves \nthat they will run into the fire of hell, when God hath \ntold them it is a little before them; and neither en- \ntreaties, nor threatenings, nor any thing that can be \nsaid, will stop them. We see them almost undone; \ntheir careless, worldly, fleshly lives, tell us that they \nare in the power of the devil ; we know, if they die \nbefore they are converted, all the world cannot save \nthem; and knowing the uncertainty of their lives, we \nare afraid every day lest they drop into the fire; and \ntherefore we entreat them to pity their own souls, and \nnot to undo themselves when mercy is at hand, and \nthey will not hear us. We entreat them to cast away \ntheir sin, and come to Christ without delay, and to \nhave some mercy on themselves, but they will have \nnone; and yet they think that God must be cruel if \nhe condemn them. O wilful miserable sinners ! it is \nnot God that is cruel to you, it is you that are cruel \nto yourselves; you are told you must turn or burn, \nand yet you turn not. You are told, that if you will \nneeds keep your sins, you shall keep the curse of God \n\n\n\nDoet.7. THE UNCONVERTED. 131 \n\nwith them, and yet you will keep them. You are told \nthat there is no way to happiness but by holiness, and \nvet you will not be holy. What would you have God \neay more to you ? What would you have him do with \nhis mercy? He offereth it to you, and you will not \nhave it. You are in the ditch of sin and misery, and \nhe would give you his hand to help you out, and you \nrefuse his help ; he would cleanse you of your sins, \nand you had rather keep them ; you love your lust, \nand love your gluttony, and sports, and drunkenness, \nand will not let them go ; would you have him bring \nyou to heaven whether you will or not ?■ Or would \nyou have him bring you and your sins to heaven \ntogether ? Why that is an impossibility : you may as \nwell expect he should turn the sun into darkness. \nWhat! an unsanctified fleshly heart be in heaven? \nit cannot be. There entereth nothing that is unclean. \nRev. 21 : 17. \" For what communion hath light with \ndarkness, or Christ with Belial?\" 2 Cor. 6 : 14, 15. \n\" All the day long hath he stretched out his hands to \na disobedient and gainsaying people.\" Rom. 10 : 21. \nWhat will you do now ? Will you cry to God for \nmercy? Why, God calleth upon you to have mercy \nupon yourselves, and you will not ! Ministers see the \npoisoned cup in the drunkard's hand, and tell him \nthere is poison in it, and desire him to have mercy on \nhis soul, and forbear, and he will not hear us ! Drink \nit he must and will ; he loves it, and, therefore, though \nhell comes next, he saith he cannot help it. What \nshould one say to such men as these? We tell the \nungodly careless worldling, it is not such a life that \nwill serve the turn, or ever bring you to heaven. If \na lion were at your back you would mend your pace ; \nwhen the curse of God is at vour back, and satan \n\n\n\n132 A CALL TO Doet. 7 \n\nand hell are at your back, will you not stir, but \nask, What needs of all this ado? Is an immortal \nsoul of no more worth ? O have mercy upon your- \nselves! But they will have no mercy on them- \nselves, nor once regard us. We tell them the end will \nbe bitter. Who can dwell with the everlasting fire 1 \nAnd yet they will have no mercy on themselves. \nAnd yet will these shameless transgressors say, that \nGod is more merciful than to condemn them, when it \nis themselves that cruelly and unmercifully run upon \ncondemnation ; and if we should go to them, and en- \ntreat them, we cannot stop them ; if we should fall \non our knees to them we cannot stop them, but to hell \nthey will go, and yet will not believe that they are \ngoing thither. If we beg of them for the sake of God \nthat made them, and preserveth them ; for the sake \nof Christ that died for them; for the sake of their \nown souls to pity themselves, and go no further in the \nway to hell, but come to Christ while his arms are \nopen, and enter into the state of life while the door \nstands open, and now take mercy while mercy may \nbe had, they will not be persuaded. If we should \ndie for it, we cannot so much as get them now and \nthen to consider with themselves of the matter, and \nturn; and yet they can say, \" I hope God will be \nmerciful.\" Did you never consider what he saith, \nIsa. 27 : 11, \" It is a people of no understanding; \ntherefore, he that made them will not have mercy on \nthem, and he that formed them will show them no \nfavor.\" If another man will not clothe you when \nyou are naked, and feed you when you are hungry, \nyou will say he is unmerciful. If he should cast you \ninto prison, or beat and torment you, you would say \nhe is unmerciful: and yet you will do a thousand \n\n\n\nDoct. 7. TnE UNCONVERTED. 133 \n\nlimce more against yourselves, even cast away both \nsoul and body for ever, and never complain of your \nown unmereilulness ! Yea, and God that waited upon \nyou all the while with his mercy, must be taken to \nbe unmerciful, if he punish you after all this. Unless \nthe holy God of heaven will give these wretches \nleave to trample upon his Son's blood, and with the \nJews, as it were, again to spit in his face, and do des- \npite to the spirit of grace, and make a jest of sin. and \na mock at holiness, and set more light by saving \nmercy than by the filth of their fleshly pleasures; and \nunless, alter all this, he will save them by the mercy \nwhich they cast away, and would have none of, God \nhimself must be called unmerciful by them ! But he \nw T ill be justified when he judgeth, and he will not \nstand or fail at the bar of a sinful worm. \n\nI know there are many particular cavils that are \nbrought by them against the Lord ; but I shall not \nhere stay to answer them particularly, having done \nit already in my Treatise of Judgment, to which I \nshall refer them. Had the disputing part of the world \nbeen as careful to avoid sin and destruction as they \nhave been busy in searching after the cause of them, \nand forward indirectly to impute them to God, they \nmight have exercised their wits more profitably, and \nhave less wronged God, and sped better themselves. \nWhen so ugly a monster as sin is within us, and so \nheavy a thing as punishment is on us, and so dreadful \na thing as hell is before us, one would think it should \nbe an easy question who is in the fault ; whether God \nor man be the principal or culpable cause? Some \nmen are such favorable judges of themselves, that \nthey are more prone to accuse the infinite perfection \nand goodness itself, than their own hearts, and imitate \n\nDax. Call. jo \n\n\n\n134 A CALL TO Doct. 7 \n\ntheir first parents, that said, \" The serpent tempted \nme ; and the woman that thou gavest me gave unto \nme, and I did eat ;\" secretly implying that God was \nthe cause. So say they, \" The understanding that \nthou gavest me was unable to discern ; the will that \nthou gavest me was unable to make a better choice ; \nthe objects which thou didst set before me did entice \nme ; the temptations which thou didst permit to assault \nme prevailed against me.\" And some are so loth to \nthink that God can make a self-determining creature, \nthat they dare not deny him that which they take to \nbe his prerogative, to be the determiner of the will in \nevery sin, as the first efficient immediate physical \ncause ; and many could be content to acquit God from \nso much causing of evil, if they could but reconcile it \nwith his being the chief cause of good ; as if truths \nwould be no longer truths than we are able to see \nthem ii? their perfect order and coherence ; because \nour ravelled wits cannot see them right together, nor \nassign each truth its proper place, we presume to con- \nclude that some must be cast away. This is the fruit \nof proud self-conceitedness, when men receive not \nGod's truth as a child his lesson, in holy submission to \nthe omniscience of our Teacher but as censurers that \nare too wise to learn. \n\nObjection. But we cannot convert ourselves till \nGod convert us; we can do nothing without his \ngrace ; it is not in him that willeth, nor in him that \nrunneth, but in God that showeth mercy. \n\nAnsw. 1. God hath two degrees of mercy to show; \nthe mercy of conversion first, and the mercy of salva- \ntion last ; the latter he will give to none but those \nthat will and run, and hath promised it to them only. \nThe former is to make them willing that are unwJ- \n\n\n\nOoct 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 135 \n\nling ; and though your own willingness and endeavors \ndeserve not his grace, yet your wilful refusal deserveth \nthat it should be denied to yon. Your disability ia \nyour very unwillingness itself, which excuseth not \nyour sin, but maketh it the greater. You could turn \nif you were bat truly willing ; and if your wills them- \nselves are so corrupted that nothing but effectual grace \nwill move them, you have the more cause to seek for \nthat grace, and yield to it, and do what you can in \nthe use of means, and not neglect it and set yourself \nagainst it. Do what you are able first, and then com- \nplain of God for denying you grace, if you have \ncause. \n\nObject. But you seem to intimate all this while \nthat man hath free will. \n\nAtisid. 1. The dispute about free will is beyond \nyour capacity ; I shall, therefore, now trouble you with \nno more but this about it. Your will is naturally a free, \nthat is, a self-determining faculty ; but it is viciously \ninclined, and backward to do good ; and therefore we \nsee, by sad experience, that it hath not a virtuous \nmoral freedom ; but that it is the wickedness of it \nwhich procures the punishment ; and I pray you let \nus not befool ourselves with opinions. Let the case be \nyour own. If you had an enemy that was so mali- \ncious as to fall upon you and beat you, or take away \nthe lives of your children, would you excuse him be- \ncause he said I have not free will ; it is my nature, 1 \ncannot choose unless God give me grace? If you had \na servant that robbed you, would you take such an \nanswer from him ? Might not every thief and mur- \nderer that is hanged at the assize give such an an- \nswer: I have not free will; I cannot change my own \nheart; what can I do without God's grace? and shall \n\n\n\n136 A CALL TO Dort- 7 \n\nthey therefore be acquitted? If not, why then should \nyou think to be acquitted for a course of sin against \nthe Lord? \n\n2. From hence also you may observe these throa \nthings together: — 1. What a subtle tempter Satan is. \n2. What a deceitful thing sin is. 3. What a foolish \ncreature corrupted man is. A subtle tempter, indeed, \nthat can persuade the greatest part of the world tc \ngo into everlasting fire, when they have so many \nwarnings and dissuasives as they have ! A deceilfin \nthing is sin, indeed, that can bewitch so many thou- \nsands to part with everlasting life for a thing so base \nand utterly unworthy ! A foolish creature is man, in- \ndeed, that will be cheated of his salvation for nothing \nyea, for a known nothing; and that by an enemy, and \na known enemy. You would think it impossible that \nany man in his wits should be persuaded for a little to \ncast himself into the fire, or water, or into a coal-pit, \nto the destruction of his life ; and yet men will be \nenticed to cast themselves into hell. If your natural \nlives were in your own hands, that you should not die \ntill you would kill yourselves, how long would most \nof you live ? And yet, when your everlasting life is so \nfar in your own hands, under God, that you cannot \nbe undone till you undo yourselves, how lew of you \nwill forbear your own undoing? Ah, what a silly \nthing is man ! and what a bewitching and befooling \nthing is sin ! \n\n3. From hence, also, you may learn, that it is no \ngreat wonder if wicked men be hinderers of others in \nthe way to heaven, and would have as many uncon- \nverted as they can, and would draw them into sin \nand keep them in it. Can you expect that they \nshould have mercy on others, that have none upoc \n\n\n\nDoct. 7 THE UNCONVERTED. 137 \n\nthemselves? and that they should hesitate much at \nthe destruction of others, that hesitate not to destroy \nthemselves? They do no worse by others than they \ndo by themselves. \n\n4. Lastly, You may hence learn that the greatest \nenemy to man is himself; and the greatest judgment \nin this liie that can befall him, is to be left to him- \nself; that the great work that grace hath to do, is tu \nsave us from ourselves ; that the greatest accusations \nand complaints of men should be against themselves, \nthat the greatest work that we have to do ourselves, \nis to resist ourselves ; and the greatest enemy that \nwe should daily pray, and watch, and strive against, \nis our own carnal hearts and wills ; and the greatest \npart of your work, if you would do good to others, and \nhelp them to heaven, is to save them from them- \nselves, even from their blind understandings, and \ncorrupted wills, and perverse affections, and violent \npassions, and unruly senses. I only name all these \nfor brevity's sake, and leave them to your fufther \nconsideration. \n\nWell, sirs, now we have found out the great delin- \nquent and murderer of souls, (even men's selves, their \nown wills.) what remains but that you judge accord- \ning to the evidence, and confess this great iniquity \nbefore the Lord, and be humbled for it, and do so no \nmore ? To these three ends distinctly, I shall add a \nfew words more. 1. Further to convince you. 2. To \nhumble you. And, 3. To reform you, if there yet \nbe any hope. \n\n1. We know so much of the exceeding gracious \n\nnature of God, who is willing to do good, and de- \n\nlighteth to show mercy, that we have no reason to \n\nsuspect him of being the culpable cause of our death, \n\n12* \n\n\n\n138 A CALL TO Doct. * \n\nor to call him cruel ; he made all good, and he pre- \nserveth and maintaineth all ; the eyes of all wait \nupon him, and he giveth them their meat in due \nseason: he openeth his hand, and satisfied! the de- \nsires olall the living. Psalm 145 : 15, 16. He is not \nonly righteous in all his ways, and therefore will deal \njustly ; and holy in all his works, and therefore not \nthe. author of sin, but he is also good to all, and his \ntender mercies are over all his works. Psalm 145 : \n17, 19. \n\nBut as for man, we know his mind is dark, his will \nperverse, and his affections carry him so headlong, \nthat he is fitted by his folly and corruption to such a \nwork as the destroying of himself. II\" you saw a \nlamb lie killed in the way, would you sooner suspect \nthe sheep, or the wolf to be the author of it, if they \nboth stand by? Or if you see a house broken open, \nand the people murdered, would you sooner suspect \nthe prince or judge, that is wise and just, and had no \nneed,' or a known thief or murderer ? I say, therefore, \nas James, 1 : 13 — 15, \" Let no man say, when he is \ntempted, that he is tempted of God, for God cannot \nbe tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man, \n(to draw him to sin,) but every man is tempted when \nhe is drawn away of his own lust and enticed. Then \nwhen lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin ; and \nsin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.\" You \nsee here that sin is the offspring of your own concu- \npiscence, and not to be charged on God ; and that \ndeath is the offspring of your own sin, and the fruit \nwhich it will yield you as soon as it is ripe. You \nhave a treasure of evil in yourselves, as a spider hath \nof poison, from whence you are bringing forth hurt \nto yourselves, and spinning such webs as entangle \n\n\n\nDoct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 139 \n\nyour own souls. Your nature shows it is you that arc \nthe cause. \n\n2. It is evident that, you are your own destroyers, \nin that you are so ready to entertain any temptation \nalmost that is offered to you, Satan is scarcely more \nready to move you to any evil, than you are ready \nto hear, and to do as he would have you. If he would \ntempt your understanding to error and prejudice, you \nyield. If he would hinder you from good resolutions, \nit is soon done. If he would cool any good desires or \naffections, it is soon done. If lie would kindle any \nlust, or vile affections and desires in you, it is soon \ndone. If he will put you on to evil thoughts, or deeds, \nyou are so free that he needs no rod or spur. If he \nwould keep you from holy thoughts, and words, and \nways, a little doth it, you need no curb. You examine \nnot his suggestion?, nor resist them with any resolu- \ntion, nor cast them out as he casts them in, nor quench \nthe sparks which he endeavoreth to kindle. ; but you \nset in with him, and meet him half way, and em- \nbrace his motions, and tempt him to tempt yon. And \nit is easy for him to catch such greedy fish that are \nranging for a bait, and will take the bare hook. \n\n3. Your destruction is evidently of yourselves, in that \nyou resist all that would help to save you, and would \ndo you good, or hinder you from undoing yourselves. \nGod would help and save you by his word, and you \nresist it; it is Loo strict for you. He would sanctify \nyou by his Spirit, and you resist and quench it. If \nany man reprove you for your sin, you By in his face \nwith evil Avords ; and if he would draw you to a holy \nlife, and tell you of your present danger, you give \nhim little thanks, but either bid him look to himself, \nhe shall not answer for you ; or at best you nut him oil \n\n\n\n140 A CALL TO Doct. 7 \n\nwith heartless thanks, and wiii not turn when you are \npersuaded. If ministers would privately instruct and \nhelp you, you will not come to them ; your unhumbled \n(souls feel but little need of their help ; if they would \ncatechise you, you are too old to be catechised, though \nyou are not too old to be ignorant and unholy. What \never they can say to you for your good, you are so \nself-conceited and wise in your own eyes, even in the \ndepth of ignorance, that you will regard nothing that \nagreeth not with your present conceits, but contradict \nyour teachers, as if you were wiser than they ; you \nresist all that they can say to you, by your ignorance, \nand wilfulness, and foolish cavils, and shifting eva- \nsions, and unthankful rejections, so that no good that \nis offered can find any welcome acceptance and enter- \ntainment with you. \n\n4. Moreover, it is apparent that you are self-de- \nstroyers, in that you \" draw the matter of your sin \nand destruction even from the blessed God himself.'' \nYou like not the contrivances of his wisdom ; you \nLike not his justice, but take it for cruelty ; you like- \nnot his holiness, but are ready to think he is such a \none as yourselves, (Psalm 1 : 21,) and makes as 1 ght \nof sin as you do; you like not his truth, but would \nhave his threatening?, even his peremptory threaten- \nings, prove false ; and his goodness, which you seem \nrxjost highly to approve, you partly resist, as it would \nlead you to repentance; and partly abuse, to the \nstrengthening of your sin, as if you might more free- \nly sin because God is merciful, and because his grace \ndoth so much abound. \n\n5. Yea, you fetch destruction from the blessed Re- \ndeemer, and death from the Lord of life himself! and \nnothing more emboldeneth you in sin, than that \n\n\n\nDoct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 141 \n\nChrist hath died for you ; as if now the danger of \ndeath were over, and you might boldly venture ; a& \nif Christ were become a servant to satan and your \nsins, and must wait upon you while you are abusing \nhim ; and because he is become the Physician ot'souls, \nand is able to save to the uttermost all that come to \nGod by him, you think he must suffer you to refuse \nhis help, and throw away his medicines, and must \nsave you whether you will come to God by him or \nnot: so that a great port of your sins are occasioned \nby your bold presumption upon the death of Christ, \nnot considering that he came to redeem his people \nfrom their sins, and to sanctify them a peculiar people \nto himself j and to conform them in holiness to the \nimage of their heavenly Father, and to their head. \nMatt. 1 : 21 ; Tit 2 : 14 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 15, 16 ; Col. 3 : 10, \n11; Phil. 3:9, 10. \n\n6, You also fetch your own destruction from all the \nprovidences and works of God. When you think cf \nhis eternal fore-knowledge and decrees, it is to harden \nyou in your sin, or possess your minds with quarrel- \nling thoughts, as if his decrees might spare you the \nlabor of repentance and a holy life, or else were the \ncause of sin and death. If he afflict you, you repine; \nif he prosper you, you the more forget him, and are \nthe more backward to the thoughts of the life to come. \nIf the wicked prosper, you forget the end thai will set \nall reckonings straight, and are ready to think it is as \ngood to be wicked as godly ; and thus you draw your \ndeath from all. \n\n7. And the like you do fiom all the creatures and \nmercies of God to you. He giveth them to you as \nthe tokens of his love and furniture for his service, \nand you turn them against him, to the pleasing of \n\n\n\n142 A CALL TO Doct. 7 \n\nyear flesh. You eat and drink to please your appe- \ntite, and not for the glory of God, and to enable you \nto perform his work. Your clothes you abuse to \npride ; your riches draw your hearts from heaven ; \n(Phil. 3 : 18;) your honors and applause .puff you up ; \nif you have health and strength, it makes you more \nsecure, and forget your ena. Yea, other men's mercies \nare abused by you to your hurt. If you see their ho- \nnors and dignity, you are provoked to envy them ; if \nyou see their riches, you are ready to covet them ; if \nyou look upon beauty, you are stirred up to lust ; and \nit is well if godliness itself be not an eye-sore to you. \n\n8. The very gifts that God bestoweth on you, and \nthe ordinances of grace winch he hath instituted for \nhis church, you turn to sin. If you have better parts \nthan others, you grow proud and self-conceited ; if you \nhave but common gifts, you take them for special \ngrace. You take the bare hearing of your duty for \nso good a work, as if it would excuse you for not obey- \ning it. Your prayers are turned into sin, because you \n(i regard iniquity in your hearts,\" (Psalm 66 : 18,) \nand depart not from iniquity when you call on the \nname of the Lord. 2 Tim. 2 : 19. Your \" prayere \nare abominable, because you turn away your ear \nfrom hearing the law,\" (Prov. 28 : 9,) and are more \nready to offer the sacrifice of fools, thinking you do \nGod some special service, than to hear his word and \nobey it. Eccles. 5:1. \n\n9. Yea, the persons that you converse with, and all \ntheir actions, you make the occasions of your sin and \ndestruction. If they live in the fear of God, you hate \nthem. If they live ungodly, you imitate them ; if the \nwicked are many, you think you may the more boldly \nfollow them ; if the godly be few, you are the more \n\n\n\nDoet. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 143 \n\nemboldened to despise them. If they walk exactly, \nyou think they are too precise ; if one of them fall in \na particular temptation you stumble and turn away \nfrom holiness because that others are imperfectly \nholy ; as if you were warranted to break yout ^fie^a \nbecause some others have by their heedlessness [strata* \ned a sinew, or put out a bone. If a hypocrite discover \nhimself, you say, \" They arc all alike,\" and think \nyourselves as honest as the best. A professor can \nscarce slip into any miscarriage, but because he cuts \nhis finger you think you may boldly cut your tl iroats. \nIf ministers deal plainly with you, you say they rail. \nIf they speak gently or coldly, you either sleep under \nthem, or are little more affected than the seats you \nsit upon. If any errors creep into the church, some \ngreedily entertain them, and others reproach the \nChristian doctrine for them, which is most against \nthem. And if we would draw you from any ancient \nrooted error, which can but plead two, or three, or six, \nor seven hundred years' custom, you are as much \noffended with a motion for reformation as if you were \nto lose your life by it, and hold fast old errors, while \nyou cry out against new ones. Scarce a difference \ncan arise among the ministers of the Gospel, but you \nwill fetch your own death from it ; and you will not \nhear, or at least not obey, the unquestionable doctrine \nof any of those that agree not with your conceits. One \nvviil not hear a minister because he saith the Lord's \nprayer ; and another will not hear him because he \ndoth not use it. One will not hear them that are for \nepiscopacy ; and another will not hear them that are \nagainst it. And thus I might show it you in many \nother cases, how you turn all that comes near you 10 \nyour own destruction ; so clear is it that the ungodly \n\n\n\n144 A CALL TO Doct. 7. \n\nare self- destroyers, and that their perdition is of \nthemselves. \n\nMethinks now, upon the consideration of what is \nsaid, and the review of your own ways, you should \nbethink you what you have done, and be ashamed \nand deeply humbled to remember it. If you be not, I \npray you consider these following truths : \n\n1. To be your own destroyers is to sin against the \ndeepest principle in your natures, even the principle \nof self-preservation. Every thing naturally desireth \nor inclineth to its own felicity, welfare, or perfection, \nand will you set yourselves to your own destruction? \nWhen you are commanded to love your neighbors as \nyourselves, it is supposed that you naturally love your- \nselves; but if you love your neighbors no better than \nyourselves, it seems you would have all the world to \nbe damned. \n\n2. How extremely do you cross ycur own inten- \ntions ! 1 know you intend not your own damnation, \neven when you arc procuring it ; you think you are \nbut doing good to yourselves, by gratifying the de- \nsires of your flesh. But, alas, it is but as a draught \nof cold water in a burning lever, or as the scratching \ncf an itching wild-fire, which incrcaseth the disease \nand pain. If indeed you would have pleasure, profit, \nor honor, seek them where they are to be found, and \ndo not hunt after them in the way to hell. \n\n3. What pity is it that you should do that against \nyourselves which none else on earth or in hell can do! \nIf all the world were combined against you, or all the \ndevils in hell were combined against you, they could \nnot destroy you without yourselves, nor make you sin \nbut by your own consent : and will you do that against \nyourselves which no one else can do ? You have hate- \n\n\n\nDoc«- 7 THE UNCONVERTED. 145 \n\nful thoughts of the devil, because he is your enemy, \nand endeavoreth your destruction ; and will you be \nworse than devils to yourselves 7 Why thus it is with \nyou, if you had hearts to understand it : when you \nrun into sin, and run from godliness, and refuse to \nturn at the call of God, you do more against your own \nsouls than men or devils could do besides ; and if you \nshould set yourselves and bend your wits to do your- \nselves the greatest mischief, you could not devise to \ndo a greater. \n\n4. You are false to the trust that God hath reposed \nin you. He hath much intrusted you with your own \nsalvation ; and will you betray your trust ? He hath \ne.et you, with all diligence, to keep your hearts ; and \nis this the keeping of them ? Prov. 4 : 23. \n\n5. You do even forbid all others to pity you, when \nyou will have no pity on yourselves. If you cry to \nGod in the day of your calamity for mercy, mercy ; \nwhat can you expect, but that he should thrust you \naway, and say, \" Nay, thou wouldst not have mercy \non thyself; who brought this upon thee but thy own \nwilfulness V And if your brethren see you everlast- \ningly in misery, how shall they pity you that were \nyour own destroyers, and would not be dissuaded? \n\n6. It will everlastingly make you your own tor- \nmentors in hell, to think that you brought yourselves \nwilfully to that misery. O what a piercing thought \nit will be for ever to think with yourselves that this \nwas your own doing ! that you were warned of this \nday, and warned again, but it would not do ; that you \nwilfully sinned, and wilfully turned away from God ! \nthat you had time as well as others, but you abused \n\n; you had teachers as well as others, but you re- \nfused their instruction; you had holy examples, but \n\nBox. CaM. l3 \n\n\n\nHG A CALL TO DOct 7 \n\nyou did not imitate them j you were offered Christ, \nand grace, and glory, as well as ethers, but you had \nmore mind of your fleshly pleasures ! you had a price \nin your hands, but you had not a heart to lay it out. \nProw 17 : 16. Can it fail to torment you to think ot \nthis your present folly ? O that your eyes were open \nto see what you have done in the wilful wronging ol \nyour own souls ! and that you better understood these \nwords of God. Prov. 8 : 33, 30, \" Hear instruction \nand be wise, and refuse it not. Blessed is the man \nthat heareth me, watching daily at my gates, wait- \ning at the posts of my doors : for whoso findeth me \nfindeth life, and shall obtain favor of the Lord. But \nhe that sinneth against me, wrongeth his own soul. \nAll they that hate me love death.\" \n\nAnd now I am come to the conclusion of this work, \nmy heart is troubled to think how I shall leave you, \nlest after this the flesh should still deceive you, and \nthe world and the devil should keep you asleep, and I \nshould leave you as I found you, till you awake in \nhyll. Though in care of your poor souls, I am afraid \nof this, as knowing the obstinacy of a carnal heart; \nyet I can say with the prophet Jeremiah, (17 : 10,) \n\"I have not desired the woful day, thou Lord know- \nest.\" 1 have not, with James and John, desired thai \n\" fire might come from heaven\" to consume them that \nrefused Jesus Christ. Luke, 9 : 54. But it is the pre- \nventing of the eternal fire that 1 have been all this \nwhile endeavoring : and O tlvat it had been a need- \nless work ! That God and conscience might have \nbeen as willing to spare me this labor as some of you \ncouid have been. Dear friends, I am so loth that you \nshould he in everlasting fire, and be shut out of hea- \n\n\n\nDoctT. T UE UNCONVERTED. 147 \n\nven, if it be possible to prevent it, that I shall once \nmore ask you, what do you now resolve ? Will you \nturn, or die ? I look upon you as a physician on his \npatient, in a dangerous disease, that saith to him, \n*' Tbcugli you are far gone, take but this medicine, \nand forbear but those lew things that are hurtful to \nyou, and I dare warrant your life; but if you will not \ndo this you are but a dead man.\" \"What would you \nthink of such a man, if the physician, and all the \nfriends he hath, cannot persuade him to take one me- \ndicine to save his life, or to forbear one or two poison- \nous things that would kill him? This is your case. \nAs lar as you are gone in sin, do but now turn and \ncome to Christ, and take his remedies, and your souls \nshall live. Cast up your deadly sins by repentance, \nand return not to the poisonous vomit any more, and \nyou shall do well. But yet, if it were your bodies \nthat we had to deal with, we might partly know \nwhat to do for you. Though you would not consent, \nyet you might be held or bound while the medicine \nwere poured doAvn your throats, and hurtful things \nmight be kept from you. But about your souls it can- \nnot be so ; we cannot convert you against your wills. \nThere is no carrying madmen to heaven in fetters. \nYou may be condemned against your wills, because \nyou sinned with your wills; but you cannot be saved \nagainst your wills. The wisdom of C4od has thought \nmeet to lay men's salvation or destruction exceed- \ningly much upon the choice of their own will, that \nno man shall come to heaven that chose not the way \nto heaven; and no man shall come to hell, but shall \nbe forced to say, \" I have the thing I chose, my own \nwill did bring me hither.\" Now, if I could but get you \nto be willing, to be thoroughly, and resolvedly, and \n\n\n\n148 A CALL TO Do\"- 7 \n\nhabitually willing, the work were more than half \ndone. And alas ! must we lose our friends, and must \nthey lose their God, their happiness, their souls, for \nwant of this ? O God forbid ! It is a strange thing \nto me that men are so inhuman and stupid in the \ngreatest matters, who in lesser things are civil and \ncourteous, and good neighbors. For aught I know, I \nhave the love of all, or almost all my neighbors, so \nfar, that if I should send to any man in the town, or \nparish, or country, and request a reasonable courtesy \nof them, they would grant it me ; and yet when I \ncome to request of them the greatest matter in the \nworld, for themselves, and not for me, I can have no- \nthing of many of them but a patient hearing. I know \nnot whether people think a man in the pulpit is in \ngood earnest or not, and means as he speaks ; for I \nthink I have few neighbors, but, if I were sitting fa- \nmiliarly with them, and telling them what I have \nseen and done, or known in the world, they them- \nselves shall see and know in the world to come, they \nwould believe me, and regard what I say ; but when \nI tell them, from the infallible word of God, what they \nthemselves shall see and know in the world to come, \nthey show, by their lives, that they do either not be \nlieve it or not much regard it. If I met any one oi \nthem on the way, and told them yonder is a coal-pit, \nor there is a quicksand, or there are thieves lying in \nwait for you, I could persuade them to turn by ; but \nwhen I tell them that satan lieth in wait for them, \nand that sin is poison to them, and that hell i3 not a \nmatter to be jested with, they go on as if they did not \nhear me. Truly, neighbors, I am in as good earnest \nwith you hi the pulpit as I am in my familiar die- \ncourse ; and if ever you will regard me, I beseech \n\n\n\nDoct 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 149 \n\nyou let it be here. I think there is not a man of you \nall, but, if my own soul lie at your wills, you would \nbe willing to save it, though I cannot promise that \nyoM would leave your sins for it. Tell me, thou \ndrunkard, art thou so cruel to me, that thou wouldst \nnot forbear a few cups of drink, if thou knewest :'<t \nwould save my soul from hell ? Hadst thou rather \nthat I did burn there for ever than thou shouldst live \neoberly as other men do ? If so, may I not say, thou \nart an unmerciful monster, and net a man ? If I came \nhungry or naked to one of your doors, would you not \npart with moie than a cup of drink to relieve me? I \nam confident you would. If it were to save my life, \nI know you would, some of you, hazard your own; \nand yet will you not be entreated to part with your \nsensual pleasures for your own salvation / Wouldst \nthou forbear a hundred cups of drink to save my life, \nif k were in thy power, and wilt thou not do it to save \nthy own soul ? I profess to you, sirs, I am as hearty a \nbeggar with you this day for the saving of your own \nsouls, as I would be lor my own supply, if I were \nforced to come begging to your doors ; and therefore \nif you wou-ld hear me then, hear me now. If you \nwould pity me then, be entreated now to pity your- \nselves. I do again beseech you, as if t were on my \nbended knees, that you would hear' en to your Re- \ndeemer, and turn, that you may Ji- e. Ail you that \nhave lived in ignorance, and cardessness, and pre- \nsumption, to this day; all you that have been drowned \nin the cares of the world, and have no mind of God, \nand eternal glory; ail you that are enslaved to your \nfleshly desires of meats and drinks, sports and lusts; \nand all you that know not tlj3 necessity of holiness, \nand never Avere acquainted with the sanctifying work \n13* \n\n\n\n150 A CALL TJ Doct. 7 \n\nof the Holy Ghost upon your souls ; that never em- \nbraced your blessed Redeemer by a lively faith, and \nwith admiring and thankful apprehensions of his love; \nand that never felt a higher estimation of God and \nheaven, and heartier love to them than your fleshly \nprosperity, and the things below ; I earnestly beseech \nyou, not only for my sake, but for the Lord's sake, \nand for your soul's sake, that you go not one day \nlonger in your former condition, but look about you, \nand cry to God for converting grace, that you may \nbe made new creatures, and may escape the plagues \nthat are a little before you. And if ever you will do \nany thing for me, grant me this request, to turn from \nyour evil ways and live. Deny me any thing that \never I shall ask you for myself, if you will but grant \nme this ; and if you deny me this, I care not for any \nthing else that you would grant me. Nay, as ever \nyou will do any thing at the request of the Lord that \nmade you, and died that you may live, deny him not \nthis ; for if you deny him this, he cares for nothing \nthat you shall grant him. As ever you would have \nhim hear your prayers, and grant your requests, and \ndo for you at the hour of death and day of judgment, \nor in any of your extremities, deny not his request \nnow in the day of your prosperity. O sirs, believe it, \ndeath and judgment, and heaven and hell, are other \nmatters when you come near them, than they seem \nto carnal eyes af ar off: then you would hear such a \nmessage as I bring you with more awakened regard- \nful hearts. \n\nWell, though I cannot hope so well of all, I will \nhope that some of you are by this time purposing to \nturn and live ; and that you are ready to ask me, as \nthe Jews did Peter, (Acts. 2 : 37,) when they were \n\n\n\nl*>ct.7. THE UNCONVERTED. 151 \n\npricked in their hearts, and said, \" Men and brethren, \nwhat shall we do ?\" How may we come to be truly \nconverted ? We are willing, if we did but know our \nduty. God forbid that we should choose destruction \nby refusing conversion, as hitherto we have done. \n\nIf these be the thoughts and purposes of your \nhearts, I Gay of you as God did of a promising peo- \nple, (Deut. 5 : 28, 29,) \" They have well said all that \nthey have spoken : O that there was such a heart in \nihem, that they would fear me, and keep all my \ncommandments always !\" Your purposes are good : \nO that there were but a heart in you to perform these \npurposes ! And in hope hereof I shall gladly give you \ndirection what to do, and that but briefly, that you \nmay the easier remember it for your practice. \n\nDirection I. — If you would be converted and \nsaved, labor to understand the necessity and true na- \nture of conversion ; for what, and from what, and to \nwhat, and by what it is that you must turn. \n\nConsider in what a lamentable condition you are \ntill the hour of your conversion, that you may see it \nis not a state to be rested in. You are under the guilt \nof all the sins that ever you committed, and under \nthe wrath of God, and the curse of his law ; you are \nbond slaves to the devil, and daily employed in his \nwork against the Lord, yourselves, and others ; you \nare spiritually dead and deformed, as being devoid of \nthe holy life, and nature, and image of the Lord. \nYou are unfit for any holy work, and do nothing that \nis truly pleasing to God. You are without any pro- \nmise or assurance of his protection, and live in con- \ntinual danger of his justice, not knowing what hour \nyou may be snatched away to hell, and most certain \n\n\n\n152 A CALL TO Doet. 7 \n\nto be lost if you die in that condition ; and nothing \nshort of conversion can prevent it. Whatever civili- \nties or amendments are short of true conversion, will \nnever procure the saving of your souls. Keep the \ntrue sense of this natural misery, and so cf the neces- \nsity of conversion on your hearts. \n\nAnd then you must understand what it is to be \nconverted ; it is to have a new heart or disposition, \nand a new conversation. \n\nQuest. 1. For what must we turn? \n\nAnsw. For these ends following, which you may \nattain: 1. You shall immediately be made living \nmembers of Christ, and have an interest in him. and \nbe renewed after the image of God, and be adorned \nwith all his graces, and quickened with a new and \nheavenly life, and saved from the tyranny of Satan, \nand the dominion of si n,and be justified from the curse \nof the law, and have the pardon of all the sins oi \nyour whole lives, and be accepted of God, and made \nhis sons, and have liberty with boldness to call him \nFather, and go to him by prayer in all your needs, \nwith a promise of acceptance; you shall have the \nHoly Ghost to dwell in you, to sanctify and guide \nyou ; you shall have part in the brotherhood, commu- \nnion, and prayers of the saints; you shall be fitted \nfor God's service, and be freed from the dominion of \nsin, and be useful, and a blessing to the place where \nyou live; and shall have the promise of this life, and \nthat which is to come: you shall want nothing that \nis truly good for you, and your necessary alliictiona \nyou will be enabled to bear ; you may have seme \ntaste of communion with God in the Spirit, especially \nin all holy ordinances, where God prepareth a feast \ntbr your souls ; you shall be heirs of heaven while \n\n\n\nDoct. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 153 \n\nyou live or earth, and may foresee by faith the ever- \nlasting glory, and so may live and die in peace ; and \nyou shall never be so low but your happiness will be \nincomparably greater than your misery. \n\nHow precious is every one of these blessings, which \nI do but briefly name, and which in this life you may \nreceive ! \n\nAnd then, 2. At death your souls shall go to Christ, \nand at the day of judgment both soul and body shall \nbe glorified and justified, and enter into your Master's \njoy, where your happiness will consist in these par- \nticulars : \n\n1. You shall be perfected yourselves ; your mortal \nbodies shall be made immortal, and the corruptible \nshall put on incorruption ; you shall no more be hun- \ngry, or thirsty, or weary, or sick, nor shall you need \nto fear either shame, or sorrow, or death, or hell ; your \nsouls shall be perfectly freed from sin, and perfectly \nfitted for the knowledge, and love, and praises of the \nLord. \n\n2. Your employment shall be to behold your glori- \nfied Redeemer, with all your holy fellow citizens of \nheaven, and to see the glory of the most blessed God, \nand to love him perfectly, and be beloved by him, and \nto praise him everlastingly. \n\n3. Your glory will contribute to the glory of the \nNew Jerusalem, the city of the living God, which is \nmore than to have a private felicity to yourselves. \n\n4. Your glory will contribute to the glorifying of \nyour Redeemer, who will everlastingly be magnified \nand pleased in that you are the travail of his soul, \nand this is more than the glorifying of yourselves. \n\n5. And the eternal Majesty, the living God, wiil \noe glorified in your glory, both as he is magnified by \n\n\n\n154 A CALL TO D«x* 1 \n\nj^our praises, and as lie communicatelh of liis glory \nunci goodness to you, and as he is pleased in you, and \nin the accomplishment of his glorious work, in the \nglory of the New Jerusalem, and of his Son. \n\nAll this the poorest beggar of you that is converted \nshall certainly and endlessly enjoy. \n\nII. You see for what you must turn : next you \nmust understand from what you must turn ; and thij \nis, in a word, from your carnal self, which is the end \nof all the unconverted : — from the flesh that would be \npleased before God, and would still be enticing you ; — \nfrom the world, that is the bait ; and from the devil, \nthat is the angler for souls, and the deceiver. And so \nfrom all known and wilful sins. \n\nIII. Next you must know to what end you must \nturn ; and that is, to Gcd as your end ; to Christ as \nthe way to the Father; to holiness as the way ap- \npointed you by Christ: and to the use of all the helps \nand means of grace afforded you by the Lord. \n\nIV. Lastly; you must know by what you must \nturn ; and that is by Christ, as the only Redeemer \nand Intercessor; and by the Holy Ghost, as the \nSanctifier; and by the word, as Ids instrument or \nmeans; and by faith and repentance, as the means \nand duties on your part to be performed. All this ia \nof necessity. \n\nDirection II. — If you will be converted and saved, \nbe much in serious secret consideration. Inconside- \nrareness undoes the world. Withdraw yourselves olt \ninto retired secrecy-, and there bethink you of the \nend why you were made, of the life you have lived, \nof the rime you have lost, the sins you have commit- \nted ; of the love, and sufferings, and fulnesc of Christ ; \n\n\n\nPod. 7. THE UNCONVERTED. ,55 \n\nol the danger you are in ; of the nearness of dcaih \nand judgment j of the certainty and excellency of the \njoys of heaven ; and of the certainty and terror of the \ntorments of hell, and the eternity of both; and of the \nnecessity of conversion and a holy life. Absorb your \nhearts in such considerations as these. \n\nDirection III. — If you will be converted and saved, \nattend upon the word of God, which is the ordinary \nmeans. Read the Scripture, or hear it read, and \nother holy writings that do apply it j constantly \nattend on the public preaching of the word. As God \nwill light the world by the sun, and not by himself \nwithout it, so will he convert and save men by hia \nministers, who are the lights of the world. Acts, \nm : 17, 13. Matt. 5 : 14. When he had miraculously \nhumbled Paul, he sent Ananias to him, (Acts, 9 : 10,) \nand when he had sent an angel to Cornelius, it was \nbut to bid him send lor Peter, who must tell him what \nto believe and do. \n\nDirection IV.— Betake yourselves to God in a \ncourse of earnest constant prayer. Confess and la- \nment your former lives, and beg his grace to illuminate \nand convert you. Beseech him to pardon what is past, \nand to give you his Spirit, and change your hearts \nand lives, and lead you in his ways, and save you \nfrom temptation. Pursue this work daily, and be not \nweary of it. \n\nDirection V. — Presently give over your known \nand wilful sins. Make a stand, and go that way no \nfarther. Be drunk no more, but avoid the very occa- \nsion of it. Cast away your lusts and sinful pleasures \n\n\n\n156 A CALL TO l**l ' \n\nwith detestation. Curse, and swear, and rail no more; \nand if you have wronged any, restore, as Zaccheus \ndid; if you will commit again your old sins, what \nblessing can you expect on the means for conversion ? \n\nDirection VI. — Presently, if possible, change youf \ncompany, if it hath hitherto been bad ; not by lbr- \nsaking your necessary relations, but your unneces- \nsary sinful companions; and join yourselves with \nthose that fear the Lord, and inquire of them the \nway to heaven. Acts, 9 : 19, 20. Psalm 15 : 4. \n\nDirection VII. — Deliver up yourselves to the Lord \nJesus, as the physician of your souls, that he may \npardon you by Ins blood, and sanctify you by his \nSpirit, by his word and ministers, the instruments oi \nthe Spirit. He is the way, the truth, and the life , \nthere is no coming to the Father but by him. John, \n14 : 6. Nor is there any other name under heaven \nby which you can be saved. Acts, 4 : 12. • Study, \ntherefore, Ins person and natures, and what he hath \ndone for you, and what he is to you, and what he \nwill be, and how he is fitted to the full supply of all \nyour necessities. \n\nDirection VIII. — If you mean indeed to turn and \nlive, do it speedily, without delay. If you be not will- \ning to turn to-day, you are not willing to do it at alL \nRemember, you are all this while in your blood, un- \nder the guilt of many thousand sins, and under God : s \nwrath, and you stand at the very brink of hell ; there \nis but a step between you and death : and this is not \na case for a man that is well in his wits to be quiet in. \nUp therefore presently, and fly as for your lives, as \n\n\n\nOocC 7. THE UNCONVERTED. 157 \n\nyou would be gone out of your house if it were ali on \nfire over your head. O, if you did but know in what \ncontinual danger you live, and what daily unspeak- \nable loss you sustain, and what a safer and sweeter \nlife you might live, you would not stand trilling, but \npresently turn. Multitudes miscarry that wilfully de- \nlay when they are. convinced that it must be done. \nYour lives are short and uncertain ; and what a case \nare you in if you die before you thoroughly turn ! Ye \nhave staid too long already, and wronged God too \nlong. Sin getteth strength while you delay. Your \nconversion will grow more hard and doubtful. You \nhave much to do, and therefore put not all off to the last, \nlest God forsake you, and give you up to yourselves, \nand then you are undone for ever. \n\nDirection IX. — If you will turn and live, do it un- \nleservedly, absolutely, and universally. Think not \nto capitulate with Christ, and divide your heart be- \ntween him and the world ; and to part with some sins \nand keep the rest ; and to let that go which your flesh \ncan spare. This is but self-deluding; you must in \nheart and resolution forsake all that you have, or else \nyou cannot be his disciples. Luke, 14 : 26, 33. If you \nwill not take God and heaven for your portion, and \nlay all below at the feet of Christ, but you must needs \nalso have your good things here, and have an earthly \nportion, and Gal and glory are not enough for you ; \nit is vain to dream of salvation on these terms ; for it \nwill not be. If you seem never so religious, if yet it \nbe but a carnal righteousness, and if the flesh's pros- \nperity, or pleasure, or safety, be still excepted in your \ndevotedness to God, this is as certain a way to death \nas open profaneness, though it be more plausible. \n\nRax. Call 14 \n\n\n\n158 A CALL TO Doct. 1 \n\nDiREeriON X. — If you will turn and live, do it re- \nsolvedly, and stand not still deliberating, as if it were \na doubtful case. Stand not wavering, as if you were \nuncertain whether God or the flesh be the better mas- \nter, or whether sin or holiness be the better way, or \nwhether heaven or hell be the better end. But away \nwith your former lusts, and presently, habitually, \nfixedly resolve. Be not one day of one mind, and the \nnext day of another ; but be at a point with all the \nworld, and resolvedly give up yourselves and all you \nhave to God. Now, while you are reading, or hear- \ning this, resolve ; before you sleep another night, re- \nsolve ; before you stir from the place, resolve ; before \nsatan have time to take you off* resolve. You never \nturn indeed till you do resolve, and that with a firm \nunchangeable resolution. \n\n\n\nAnd now I have done my part in this work, that \nyou may turn to the call of God, and live. What will \nbecome of it I cannot tell. I have cast the seed at \nGod's command ; but it is not in my power to give \nthe increase. I can go no further with my message ; \nI cannot bring it to your heart, nor make it work ; I \ncannot do your parts for you to entertain it and con- \nsider it ; nor can I do God's part, by opening your \nheart to entertain it ; nor can I shew heaven or hell \nto your sight, nor give you new and tender hearts. If \n1 knew what more to do for your conversion, I hope I \nshould do it. \n\nBut O thou that art the gracious Father of spirits, \nthou hast sworn thou delightest not in the death of \nthe wicked, but rather that they turn and live ; deny \n\n\n\nDoet 7 THE UNCONVERTED. 15*J \n\nnot thy blessing to these persuasions and directions, \nand suffer not thine enemies to triumph in thy sight, \nand the great deceiver of souls to prevail against thy \nSon, thy Spirit, and thy Word ! O pity poor uncon- \nverted sinners, that have no hearts to pity or help \nthemselves I Command the blind to see, and the \ndeaf to hear, and the dead to live, and let not sin and \ndeath be able to resist thee. Awaken the secure, re- \nsolve the unresolved, confirm the wavering ; and let \nthe eyes of sinners, that read these lines, be next em- \nployed in weeping over their sins, and bring them to \nthemselves, and to thy Son, before their sins have \nbrought them to perdition. If thou say but the word, \nthese poor endeavors shall prosper to the winning ol \nmany a soul to their everlasting joy; and thine ever- \nLuting glory. — Aw^n. \n\n\n\nTHE \n\n\n\nDYIJfG THOUGHTS \n\n\n\nREV. RICHARD BAXTER. \n\n\n\nABRIDGED BY \n\n\n\nBENJAMIN FAWCETT, M. A. \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED ST THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY \n\nNO. ISO NASSAU STREET, NEW- YORK. \n\n\n\nD. Fatshaw, Printer. \n\n\n\nu^s*: \n\n\n\nPREFACE \n\n\n\nCOMPILER OF THIS ABRIDGMENT. \n\n\n\nIn the following pages the reader will find none \nof the triumphs peculiar to martyrdom, nor any of \nthose ecstasies which have distinguished some par- \nticular Christians on their dying beds. Some extra- \nordinary cases rather excite our joyful surprise, than \nare patterns for our imitation. \n\nThe \" Dying Thoughts \" of Mr. Baxter chiefly \npresent to our view what every Christian may attain, \nand what it is the highest interest as well as the in- \ndispensable duty of every Christian to aspire after. \nSee here his doubts and fears in the prospect of eter- \nnity; though he had spent a long life in exemplary \nholiness, and in great nearness to God and heaven. \nSee his jealousies over his own heart, and anxious \nconcern to discover his sincerity ; together with his \nsober appeals and earnest attention to every dictate \nof reason and Scripture, in order to establish his \nmind and conscience in a well grounded peace. See, \nalso, his unwearied striving with God and his own \ngoul to have his grace in vigorous exercise. All \n\n\n\nthese are well known ingredients of the Christian \ntemper ; and therefore tend, not to perplex and dis- \ncourage, but to counsel, strengthen, and comfort \nserious readers, while they discern, in one of Mr. \nBaxter's exalted attainments, the same conflicts, \ncomplaints, and desires, which fill their own breasts. \n\nIt is observed of Lord William Russell, who \ndied a martyr fcr the liberty of his country, that a \nlittle before his death, by a trusty messenger, he \nsent Mr. Baxter his hearty thanks for his Dying \nThoughts, \"which,\" says he, \"have made me better \nacquainted with the other world than I was before ; \nand have not a little contributed to my support and \nrelief, and to the fitting me for what I am to go \nthrough.\" \n\nThough the Dying Thoughts w r ere written about \nforty years after the Saints' Rest, yet both are evi- \ndently built on the same principles, and are animated \nby the same spirit. And let it suffice to add, that \nthe abridgment of both is conducted in the same \nmanner. \n\nB. Fawcett. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER L \n\nWHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE IN THE PRESENT LIFE , . . F. 7 \n\nThe vanity of raan as mortal. The author's design to speak only to him- \n■elf ; with a general plan of tho work. The apostle's happiness whe- \nther in living or dying. The present life is desirable, 1. to please God ; \n2. to secure our own salvation ; 3. to do good to others. Minding the \nlife to come is not the whole of religion The Old Testament saints \nduly regarded the present life. The author is thankful for present \nmercies to himself, his friends, and country ; especially for his useful- \nness in the church. He desires to improve the remainder of life, and \nrejoices in his happy situation. \n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nTHE NECESSITY AND REASONABLENESS OF BELIEVING THAT PIOUS \nSEPARATE SPIRITS ARE WITH CHRIST 21 \n\nI. Such faith is necessary, 1. to ascertain the design of life; 2. to excite \nto holiness; 3. to make us know, value, and improve our mercies ; 4. \nand to comfort us under sufferings. II. Such faith is reasonable, be- \ncause, 1. the soul is immortal; 2. this immortality is the dictate of na- \nture; 3. every man ought to seek happiness; 4. men and brutes differ \nin the knowledge of God and futurity; 5- God is a just governor; 6. \nand there is a gospel revelation : also because, 7. of God's regard to \nprayer; 8. the ministration of angels; 9. Satan's temptations; 10. and \nespecially the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit. The author \ninculcates these considerations upon himself, in order to strengthen his \nown faith. \n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nWHAT IT IS TO DEPART AND TO BE WITH CHRIST .... 43 \nI. To be with Christ includes, !. his presence ; 2. union to him ; 3. com- \nmunion with him, and with his glorified saints. II. In order to be with \nChrist, we must depart, 1. from the body; 2. from former bodily en- \njoyments ; and, 3. from the more rational pleasures of learning, friend- \nship, means of grace, and acquaintance with worldly affairs. The \n1* \n\n\n\nauthor has no fear that the church will want him. Desires chiefly to \nsubmit to a separation from the body, und laments his soul's attach* \nruent to flesh and sense. \n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\nWHY IT IS FAR BETTER TO BE WITH CHRIST 66 \n\nIt is far better, considering, 1. our preparation for it, by the Father's \nlove, the Son's purchase, and the Sjiirit's influences ; by God's word, \nordinances, and providences: and by various other means. 2. It is the \nend of all our preparations. 3. It perfects our knowledge of God and \nhis works; of Christ, and redemption by him ; of heaven and Scripture; \nof Providence, of ourselves, of our fellow-creatures, and of our enemies, \nsins, and dangers. 4. It perfects our will, conforming it to the will of \nGod, and fixing it in his love. The author triumphs in the prospect of \nsuch happiness ; traces it. from God's love as the fountain ; through the \nlove of Christ as the channel ; and through angels and saints as subor- \ndinate channels. 5. It perfects also our activity in doing good, particu. \nlarly in praising God and Christ, and in beneficence to inferior crea- \ntures \n\nCHAPTER V. \n\nTHE AUTHOR BREATHES AFTER WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, AND TO \nBE WITH CHRIST 99 \n\nLamenting the ineffioacy of his convictions, he begs divine teaching ; \nargnes against his doubts and fears ; desires a heavenly temper ; then \nexcites his faith, viewing its support from reason, from experience, and \npleading the promises. 2. He next excites his hope ; views its prepa- \nrations, and pleads it in prayer. 3. He also excites his love ; considers \nits excellencies ; prays for its increase ; contemplates the perfection of \nheavenly love; is jealous of his own love ; enumerates the evidence! oi \nGod's love, and prays for its full discovery. \n\n\n\nDYING THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\nPHILIPPIANS, 1 : 23. \n\nFor I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to cZo \npart, and to be with Christ ; which is far better. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. \nWhat there is desirable in the present life. \n\n\"Man that is born of a woman is of few days \nand full of trouble : he cometh forth like a flower, \nand is cut down : he fleeth also as a shadow, and \ncontinueth not.\" \" And dost thou open thine \neyes upon such an one, and bringest me into judg- \nment with thee ?\" As a watch when it is wound \nup, or as a candle newly lighted ; so man, newly \nconceived or born, begins a motion which inces- \nsantly hastes to its appointed period. And as an \naction, or the time of it, is nothing when it is past ; \nso vain a thing would man be, and so vain is life, \nwere it not for the hopes of a more durable life \nwith which this is connected. But those hopes, \nand the means for supporting them, do not only \ndistinguish a believer from an infidel, but a man \nfrom a beast. When Solomon describes the dif- \nference only in respect to time and the things of \ntime, he well observes, that one event happening \nto both, shows that both are vanity. And Paul \nsays of Christians, \" If in this life only we have \n\n\n\n8 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. i. \n\nhope, we are of all men most miserable.\" Though \neven in this life, as related to a better, and as we \nourselves are exercised about things of a higher \nnature than the concerns of a temporal life, we \nare far happier than the men of the world. \n\nI am intending to speak to none but myself, and \ntherefore (supposing the meaning of the text to be \nduly ascertained) shall only observe what is use- \nful to my own heart and practice. In this chapter \nI will consider — What there is desirable in the pre- \nsent life : then show, chapter second — The neces- \nsity and reasonableness of believing that pious \nseparate spirits are with Christ : next explain, \nchapter third — What it is to depart, and to be with \nChrist: and chapter fourth — Why it is far better \nto be with him. I will conclude chapter fifth with \nexpressing — My concern that I myself may be will- \ning to depart, and to be with Christ. \n\nIt was a happy state into which grace had brought \nthe apostle, who saw so much of what was not only \ntolerable, but greatly desirable, both in living and \ndying. \" For him to live was Christ ;\" that is, to \ndo the work and serve the interest of Christ : for \nhim \" to die was gain ;\" that is, would be his own \ninterest and reward. His strait was not, whether \nit would be good to live, or good to depart, be- \ncause both were good ; but he doubted which of \nthe two was more desirable. Nor was it his mean- \ning to bring his own interest and Christ's into com- \npetition with each other. By Christ, or the inte- \nrest of Christ, he means his serving the churches \n\n\n\nChap. 1.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 9 \n\nof Christ upon earth. But he knew that Christ \nhad an interest also in his saints above, and could \nraise up more to serve him here. Yet, because he \nwas to judge by what appeared, and saw that such \nwere much wanted upon earth, this turned the \nscales in his choice ; and therefore, in order to \nserve Christ in the edification of his churches, he \nwas more inclined, by denying himself, to have \nhis reward delayed ; at this same time well know- \ning that the delay of his reward would tend to its \nincrease. Here let me observe, \" That even in \nthis world, short of death, there is some good so \nmuch to be regarded, as may justly prevail with \nbelievers to prefer it before the present hasting of \ntheir reward.\" I rather note this, that no temp- \ntation may carry me into the extreme of taking \nnothing but heaven to be worth minding; and so \neven sinfully cast off the world, on pretence of \nmortification and a heavenly life. Not that any \nthing on earth is better than heaven, or is in itself \nto be preferred before heaven. The end, as such, \nis better than the means, and perfection better \nthan imperfection. But the present use of the \nmeans may be sometimes preferred before the \npresent possession of the end. And the use of the \nmeans for a higher end, may be preferred before \nthe present possession of a lower end. Every \nthing has its season. Planting, sowing, and build- \ning are not so good as reaping, fruit-gathering, \nand dwelling; but in their season they must be \nfirst done. \n\n\n\n10 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. I. \n\nBut let me inquire, What there is so desirable \nin this present life ? The answer is obvious : for, \n\n1. While this present life continues, the will of \nGod is fulfilled, who will have us upon earth for \na season ; and that is best which God wills. \n\n2. The life to come depends upon this present \nlife; as the life of adult age depends upon infan- \ncy ; or the reward upon the work ; or the prize \nof racers or soldiers upon their running or fight- \ning ; or the merchant's gain upon his voyage. \nHeaven is won or lost on earth; the possession \nis there, but the preparation is here. Christ will \njudge all men in another state, as their works \nhave been in this. First, \" Well done, good and \nfaithful servant ;\" then, \" Enter thou into the joy \nof thy Lord.\" \" I have fought a good fight, I have \nfinished my course\" must go before the crown \nof righteousness \" which the Lord the righteous \nJudge shall give.\" All that we ever do for salva- \ntion must be done here. It was on earth that Christ \nhimself wrought the work of our redemption, ful- \nfilled all righteousness, became our ransom, ant! \npaid the price of our salvation ; and here also must \nwe do our part. The bestowing of the reward is \nGod's work, who, we are sure, will never fail. \nHere is no room for the least suspicion of his fail- \ning in any thing he undertakes ; but the danger \nand fear is of our own miscarrying, lest we be not \nfound capable of receiving what God will certain- \nly give to all that are fit to receive. To distrust \nGod is heinous sin and folly ; but to distrust our- \n\n\n\nChap. I.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 11 \n\nselves is highly reasonable. So that if we will \nmake sure of heaven, it must be by \" giving all \ndiligence to make our calling and election sure\" \nupon earth. If we fear hell, we must fear our be- \ning prepared for it. And it is great and difficult \nwork we have to do upon earth ; as, for instance, \nto be cured of all damning sin; to be born again; \nto be pardoned and justified by faith ; to be united \nto Christ, made wise to salvation, renewed by his \nSpirit, and conformed to his likeness ; to over- \ncome all the temptations of the world, the flesh, \nand the devil ; to perform all our duties toward \nGod and man ; \" with the heart to believe in Christ \nunto righteousness, and with the mouth to make \nconfession unto salvation ; also to \" suffer with \nChrist, that we may reign with him ; and be faith- \nful to death, that we may receive the crown of \nlife.\" Thus on earth must we \" so run that we \nmay obtain.\" \n\n3. We must labor to do good to many; and \ntherefore we have greater work to do on earth \nthan merely securing our own salvation. We are \nintrusted with our Master's talents for his service, \nto do our best in our places, to propagate his \ntruth and grace, to edify his church, honor his \ncause, and promote the salvation of as many souls \neis we can. All this is to be done on earth, if we \nwould secure the end of all in heaven. \n\nIt is then an error, though but few are guilty \nof it, to think that all religion lies in minding only \nthe life to come, and in disregarding all things in \n\n\n\n12 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. L \n\nthis present life. All true Christians must sen- \nously mind both the end and the means of attain- \ning it. If they believingly mind not the end, they \nwill never be faithful in the use of the means ; it \nthey be not diligent in using the means, they will \nnever obtain the end. Heaven must have our. \nhighest esteem, and our habitual love, desire, and \njoy ; but earth must have more of our daily thoughts \nfor present practice. A man that travels to the \nmost desirable home, has an habitual desire to it \nall the way; but his present business is his jour- \nney, and therefore his horse, inns and company, \nhis roads and his fatigues, may employ more of \nhis thoughts, and talk, and action, than his home. \nI have often wondered to find David, in the \nPsalms, and other saints before the coming of \nChrist, express so great a sense of the things of \nthis present life, and say so little of another; ma- \nking so much account of prosperity, dominion, \nand victories on the one hand, and of persecution \nand the success of enemies on the other hand. \nBut I consider that it was not for mere personal \nand carnal interest, but for the church of God, \nand for his honor, word, and worship ; for they \nknew, if things go well with us on earth, they will \nbe sure to go well in heaven ; if the militant church \nprosper in holiness, there is no doubt but it will \ntriumph in glory. Satan does much of his damn- \ning work by men, as his instruments ; so that if we \nescape their temptations, we escape much of our \ndanger. When idolaters prospered, Israel was \n\n\n\nChap. I.J tN THE PRESENT LIFE* 13 \n\ntempted to idolatry. Most follow the powerful \nnnd prosperous side. And therefore, for the glory \nuf God, and for our own everlasting salvation, we \nmust, while upon earth, greatly regard our own, \nand much more the church's welfare. Indeed, if \nearth be desired only for earth, and prosperity be \nloved only to gratify the flesh, it is the certain \nmark of damning carnality and an earthly mind. \nBut to desire peace and prosperity for the sake \nof souls, the increase of the church, and the honor \nof God, that \" his name may be hallowed, his king- \ndom come, and his will be done on earth as it is \nin heaven,\" accords with the highest and most sa- \ncred discharge of duty. \n\n\" And now, O my soul ! be not unthankful for \nthe mercies of this present life. This body is so \nnearly united to thee, that it must needs be a great \nhelp or hinderance. Had it been more afflicted, \nit might have been a discouraging clog; like a \ntired horse in a journey, or an ill tool to a work- \nman, or an untuned instrument in music. A sick \nor a bad servant in a house is a great trouble, and \nmuch more a bad wife : but thy body is nearer to \nthee than either of these could be, and will be \nmore of thy concern. Yet if it had been more \nstrong and healthful, sense and appetite would \nhave been strong ; and the stronger thy lusts the \ngreater would have been thy danger, and much \nmore difficult thy victory and salvation. Even \nweak senses and temptations have too often pre- \nvailed How knowest thou then what stronger \n\n2 Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n14 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. 1, \n\nmight have done ? When I see a thirsty man in a \nfever, or dropsy ; and especially when I see strong \nand healthful youth bred up in fullness and among \ntemptations, how they are mad in sin_, violently \ncarried to it, bearing down the rebukes of God \nand conscience, parents and friends, and all re- \ngard to their own salvation ; tins tells me how \ngreat a mercy I had, even in a body not liable to \ntheir case. Also, many a bodily deliverance has \nbeen of great use to my soul, renewing my time, \nand opportunity, and strength for service, and \nbringing frequent and fresh reports of the love of \nGod. If bodily mercies were not of great use to \nthe soul, Christ would not so much have showed \nhis saving love as he did, by healing all manner \nof diseases. Nor would God promise us a resur- \nrection of the body, if a suitable body did not pro- \nmote the welfare of the soul. \n\n\" I am obliged to great thankfulness to God for \nthe mercies of this life which he hath showed to \nmy friends. That which promotes their joy should \nincrease mine. 1 ought to ' rejoice with them that \nrejoice.' Nature and grace teach us to be glad \nwhen our friends are well and prosper ; though all \nthis must be in order to better things than bodily \nwelfare. \n\n\" Nor must I undervalue such mercies of this \nlife as belong to the land of my nativity. The \nwant of them is part of God's threatened curse ; \nand * godliness has a promise of the life that now \nis, and of that which is to come, and so is profita- \n\n\n\nChap. I.J m THE PRESENT LIFE. 15 \n\nble unto all things.' When God sends on a land \nthe plagues of pestilence, war, persecution, and \nfamine, especially a famine of the word of God, it \nis a great sin to be insensible of them. If any shall \nsay, ' While heaven is sure, we have no cause to \naccuse God, or to cast away comfort, hope, or \nduty,' they say well. But if they say, ' Because \nheaven is all, we must make light of all that be- \nfalls us on earth,' they say amiss. Pious and pub- \nlic-spirited men, who promote the safety, peace, \nand true prosperity of the commonwealth, do \nthereby very much befriend religion and men's \nsalvation, and are greatly to be loved and honored \nby all. Let me therefore be thankful for the pre- \nservation from enemies, the restraint of persecu- \ntion, the concord of Christians, and increase of \ngodliness, in this land, and especially that the \nGospel is continued in it. \n\n\" Be particularly thankful, O my soul ! that God \nhath made any use of thee for the service of his \nchurch on earth. My God, my soul for this doth \nmagnify thee, and my spirit rejoiceth in the re- \nview of thy great undeserved mercy. O what am \nI, whom thou tookest up from the dunghill, or \nlow obscurity, that I should live myself in the \nconstant relish of thy sweet and sacred truth, and \nwith such encouraging success communicate it to \nothers ! that I may say, now my public work \nseems ended, that these forty-three or forty-four \nyears I have no reason to think that ever I la- \nbored in vain ! O wit!* what gratitude must I look \n\n\n\n16 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE [Chap. 1 \n\nupon all places where I lived and labored ; but, \nabove all, that place which had my strength !* I \nbless thee for the great numbers of them gone to \nheaven, and for the continuance of piety, humility, \nconcord, and peace among them. Also for all \nthat by my writings have received any saving \nlight and grace. O my God, let not my own heart \nbe barren while I labor in thy husbandry to bring \nothers unto holy fruit ! Let me not be a stranger \nto the life and power of that saving truth which \nI have done so much to communicate to others ! \nO let not my own words and writings condemn \nme as void of that divine and heavenly nature and \nlife which I have said so much of to the world ! \n\n\" Stir up then, O my soul, thy sincere desires, \nand all thy faculties, to do the remnant of the work \nof Christ appointed thee on earth, and then joy- \nfully wait for the heavenly perfection in God's \nown time. Thou canst truly say, * To me to live \nis Christ.' It is his work for which thou livest. \nThou hast no other business in the world. But \nthou doest this work with a mixture of many over- \nsights and imperfections, and too much troubles! \nthy thoughts with distrust about God's part, who \nnever fails. If thy work be done, be thankful for \nwhat is past, and that thou art come so near the \nport of rest. If God will add any more to thy days, \nserve him with double alacrity. The prize is al- \nmost within sight. Time is swift and short. Thou \nhast told others that ' there is no working in the \n\n* Kidderminster. \n\n\n\nChap. I.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 17 \n\ngrave,' and that it must be ' now or never.' Dream \nnot, because Christ's righteousness was perfect, \nthat God will save the wicked, or equally reward \nthe slothful and the diligent. As sin is its own \npunishment, holiness is much of its own reward. \nWhatever God appointed thee to do, see that thou \ndo it sincerely, and with all thy might. If sin dis- \npose men to be angry because it is detected, dis- \ngraced, and resisted ; so that God be pleased, their \nwrath should be patiently borne, who will shortly \nbe far more angry with themselves. I shall not be \nhurt when I am with Christ, by the calumnies ot \nmen on earth ; but the saving benefit will, by con- \nverted sinners, be enjoyed everlastingly. Words \nand actions are transient things, and being once \npast, are nothing ; but the effect of them on an im- \nmortal soul may be endless. All the sermons that \nI have preached are nothing now; but the grace \nof God on sanctified souls is the beginning of eter- \nnal life. It is an unspeakable mercy to be thus \nemployed sincerely and with success ; and there- \nfore I had reason all this while to be in Paul's \nstrait, and make no haste in my • desires to de- \npart.' The crown will come in its due time; and \neternity is long enough to enjoy it, how long so- \never it be delayed. But if I will do that which \nmust obtain it for myself and others, it must be \nquickly done, before my declining sun be set. O \nthat I had no worse causes of my unwillingness \nyet to die, than my desire to do the work of life \nfor my own and other men's salvation, and to \nd 2 + \n\n\n\n18 WHAT THERE 19 DESIRABLE (.Chap. 1. \n\n* finish my course with joy, and the ministry ] \nhave received of the Lord!' \n\n\" As it is on earth I must do good to others, so \nit must be in a manner suited to their earthly state. \nSouls are here closely united to bodies, by which \nthey must receive much good or hurt. Do good \nto men's bodies, if thou wouldest do good to their \nsouls. Say not, Things corporeal are worthless \ntrifles, for which the receivers will be never the \nbetter. They are things that nature is easily sen- \nsible of, and sense is the passage to the mind and \nwill. Dost thou not find what a help it is to thyself, \nto have at any time any ease and alacrity of body ; \nand what a burden and hinderance pains and cares \nare ? Labor then to free others from such burdens \nand temptations, and be not regardless of them. \nIf thou must ' rejoice with them that rejoice, and \nweep with them that weep/ promote then thy \nown joy by helping theirs, and avoid thy own sor- \nrows in preventing or curing theirs. But, alas ! \nwhat power has selfishness in most ! How easily \ndo we bear our brethren's pains and reproaches, \nwants and afflictions, in comparison of our own ! \nHow few thoughts and how little cost and labor \ndo we use for their supply, in comparison of what \nwe do for ourselves ! Nature indeed teaches us to \nbe sensible of our own case ; but grace tells us \nthat we should not make so great a difference as \nwe do, but should love our neighbor as ourselves. \n\n\" And now, O my soul, consider how merciful- \nly God has dealt with thee, that thy strait should \n\n\n\nChap. 1.] IN THE PRESENT LIFE. 19 \n\nbe between two conditions so desirable. I shall \neither die speedily, or stay yet longer upon earth ; \nwhichever it be, it will be a merciful and com- \nfortable state. That it is ' desirable to depart, and \nbe with Christ,' I must not doubt, and shall here- \nafter more copiously consider. And if my abode \non earth yet longer be so great a mercy as to be \nput into the balance against my present posses- \nsion of heaven, surely it must be a state which \nobliges me to great thankfulness to God and com- \nfortable acknowledgment : nor should my pain, or \nsickness, or sufferings from men, make this life on \nearth unacceptable while God will continue me in \nit. Paul had his thorn in the flesh, the messenger \nof Satan to buffet him, and suffered more from \nmen than I have done ; and yet he * gloried in his \ninfirmities, and rejoiced in his tribulations,' and \nwas ' in a strait betwixt' living and dying; yea, \nrather chose to live yet longer. Alas ! the strait \nof most men is between the desire of life for flesh- \nly interest, and the fear of death as ending their \nfelicity; between a tiring world and body, which \nmake them weary of living, and the dreadful pros- \npect of future danger, which makes them afraid of \ndying. If they live, it is in misery; if they must \ndie, they fear greater misery : whether they look \nbehind or before them, to this world or the next, \nfear and trouble is their lot. Yea, many serious \nChristians, through the weakness of their trust in \nGod, live in this perplexed strait, weary of living \nand afraid of dying, continually pressed between \n\n\n\n20 WHAT THERE IS DESIRABLE, &c. [Chap. I \n\ngrief and fear. But Paul's strait was between two \njoys, which oi' them he should desire most. And \nif that be my case, what should much interrupt \nmy peace or pleasure? If I live, it is for Christ, \nfor his service, and to prepare for my own and his \neverlasting felicity ; and should any suffering make \nme impatient with such a work, and such a life ? \nIf I die presently, it is my gain ; God, who ap- \npoints me my work, limits my time ; and surely \nhis glorious reward can never be unseasonable, or \ncome too soon, if it be the time that he appoints. \nWhen I first engaged myself to preach the Gospel, \nI reckoned, as probable, but upon one or two \nyears, and God has made it above forty-four. And \nwhat reason have I to be unwilling now, either to \nlive or die? God's service has been so sweet to \nme that it has overcome the trouble of constant \npains or weakness of the flesh, and all that men \nhave said and done against me. How much the \nfollowing exceeds this pleasure, I am not now able \nto conceive. There is some trouble in all this plea- \nsant work, from which the soul and flesh would \nrest. And * blessed are the dead which die in the \nLord ; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest \nfrom their labors, and their works do follow them.' \nO my soul, what need has this kind of strait to \ntrouble thee ? Leave God to his own work, and \nmind that which is thine. So live that thou may- \nest say, ' Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I \nnow live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the \nSon of God, who loved me, ar.«l gave himself for \n\n\n\nChap. II.] PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS. 2 J \n\nme.' Ther, as thou hast lived in the comfort of \nhope, thou shalt die in the comfort of vision and \nenjoyment. And when thou canst say of God, \n* Whose I am, and whom I serve ;' that thou may- \nest boldly add, ' I know whom I have believed, \nand into his hands I commit my departing spirit, \" \n\n\n\nCHAPTES II. \n\n\n\nThe necessity and reasonableness of believing that pi- \nous separate spirits are with Christ. \n\nThe subject suggests to my thoughts — the ne- \ncessity of believing that the souls of the godly, \nwhen departed hence, shall be with Christ — and \nthe reasonableness of such a faith. We are else- \nwhere assured, that \" we shall be with him, where \nhe is;\" and to be with him can mean no less than \na state of communion, and a participation of hap- \npiness. To believe such a state of happiness for \ndeparted pious souls, must appear, upon conside- \nration, to be both necessary and reasonable. \n\nI. The necessity of believing that pious sepa- \nrate spirits are with Christ, appears by consider- \ning, that, without this belief— we shall be uncer- \ntain concerning the design of life — we shall lose \nthe most powerful motives to a holy life — we can \nneither know, estimate, nor improve our mercies— \nnor can we bear our sufferings with comfort. \n\n\n\n22 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [ C haP- H \n\n1. We shall be uncertain concerning the design \nof life. It is allowed, that the right end of life is \nto please God. But I must desire to please God \nbetter than I do in this imperfect state>, I must de- \nsire to please him perfectly. And our desires of \nour ultimate end must have no bounds. God has \nmade the desire of our own happiness so necessa- \nry to the soul of man, that it cannot be separated \nfrom our desire to please him. Therefore, both \nin respect to God and to our own happiness, we \nmust believe that he is the everlasting \" rewarder \nof them that diligently seek him.\" If we knew \nnot whether God will turn our pleasing him to our \nloss, or to our having no gain by pleasing him, \nthis would hinder our love to him, and our trust \nand joy in him ; and consequently hinder the cheer- \nfulness, sincerity, and constancy of our obedience \nHad we no certainty what God will do with us \nwe must have some probability and hope before \nwe can be entirely devoted to his service. How \ncan a man pitch upon an uncertain end? If he \nwaver so as to have no end, he can use no weans ; \nhe lives not as a man, but as a brute. Or if he \npitch upon a wrong end, he will but make work \nfor repentance. \n\n2. We shall lose the most powerful motives to \na holy life. Indeed, goodness is desirable for itself; \nbut the goodness of means is their iitness for the \nend. We have here abundance of hinderances, \ntemptations, and difficulties, which must be over- \ncome. Our natures are diseased, and greatly in- \n\n\n\nChap. U.J ARE WITH CHRIST. 23 \n\ndisposed to the most necessary duties ; and will \nthey ever be discharged, if the necessary motives \nbe not believed ? Our duties to God and man may \ncost us our estates, liberties, and lives. The world \nis not so happy as commonly to know good men \nfrom bad, or to encourage piety and virtue, or to \nforbear opposing them. And who will let go his \npresent welfare without some hope of better as a \nreward ? Men do not use to \" serve God for \nnaught,\" or while they think it will be their loss \nto serve him. A life of sin will not be avoided \nfor inferior motives. When lust and appetite in- \ncline men strongly and constantly to their respec- \ntive objects, what shall sufficiently restrain them, \nexcept the motives from things external ? If sin \nso overspread the earth, notwithstanding all the \nhopes and fears of a life to come, what would it \ndo if there were no such hopes and fears ? \n\n3. We can neither know, estimate, nor improve \nour mercies. — God gives us all the mercies of this \nlife as helps to an immortal state of glory, and as \nearnests of it. Sensualists know not what a soul \nis, nor what soul-mercies are, and therefore know \nnot the just value of all bodily mercies ; but take \nup only with the carcass, shell, or shadow, instead \nof the life of their mercies. No wonder they are \nso unthankful for God's mercies, when they know \nnot the real excellency of them. \n\n4. Nor can we bear our present sufferings with \ncomfort, without the hope of living with Christ. — \nWhat should support and comfort me under my \n\n\n\n24 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. It \n\nbodily languishings and pains, my weary hours, \nand daily experience of the vanity and vexation \nof all things under the sun, had I not a prospect \nof the comfortable end of all? I, that have lived \nin the midst of great and precious mercies, have \nall my life had something to do to overcome the \ntemptation of wishing that I had never been born ; \nand had never overcome it, but by the belief of a \nblessed life hereafter. We should be strongly \ntempted, in our considerate moments, to murmur \nat our Creator, as dealing worse by us than by \nthe brutes ; if we must have had all those cares, \nand griefs, and fears, by the knowledge of what \nwe want, and the prospect of death and future \nevils, which they are exempted from, and had not \nwithal the hope of future felicity to support us. \nSeneca had no better argument to silence such \nmurmurers, than to tell them, \" If this life have \nmore evil than good, and you think God does you \nwrong, you may remedy yourselves by ending it \nwhen you will.\" But that could not cure the re- \npinings of nature, when weary of the miseries of \nlife, and yet afraid of dying. No wonder that so \nmany fancied that souls were punished in these \nbodies for something done in a pre-existent state. \n\" O how contemptible a thing is man,\" says Sen- \neca, \" unless he lifts up himself above human \nthings.\" Therefore, says Solomon, when he had \ntried all sensual enjoyments, •• I hated life, be- \ncause the work that is wrought under the sun is \ngrievous unto me ; for all is vanity and vexation \nof spirit.\" \n\n\n\nChap. Il.J ARE WITH CHRIST. 35 \n\nII. As for the reasonableness of believing \nthat pious separate spirits are with Christ — I have \noften thought, whether an implicit belief of it may \nnot be better than searching into its nature, and \ntrying what can be said against it. I have known \nmany godly women who never disputed the mat- \nter, but served God comfortably to a very old age, \nand who lived many years in such a cheerful rea- \ndiness and desire for death as few studious men \never attain to. This no doubt was the divine re- \nward of their unwavering confidence and trust in \nthe promises through Christ. On the contrary, \nas doubts and difficulties are apt to present them- \nselves to an inquisitive mind, they must be an- \nswered ; for if we reject them unanswered, we \ngive them half the victory over us ; and a faith \nthat is not upheld by such evidence of truth as \nreason can discern and justify, is often joined with \nmuch doubting, which men dare not confess, but \ndo not therefore overcome ; and the weakness of \nsuch a faith may tend to enfeeble all the graces \nand duties which should be strengthened by it. \nWho knows how soon a temptation from Satan, \nor infidels, or from our own dark hearts, may as- \nsault us, which will not be overcome without clear \nevidence? Yet many that try, and reason, and \ndispute most, have not the stronger faith. Indeed, \nthere is a wide difference between that light which \ndiscovers the thing itself, and a mere artificial \nkind of knowledge, to form arguments and answer \nobjections. Unlearned persons, who have little \n\n3 Dying Thoug hla. \n\n\n\n26 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. IL \n\nof the latter may have more of the former, even \nthat teaching from God which reaches the heart \nas well as the understanding. And who does not \nrind it necessary to pray hard for this divine \nteaching? When I can prove the truth of the \nword of God, and of the life to come, with the \nmost convincing evidence of reason, I feel my \nneed to cry daily to God to \" increase my faith,\" \nand to give me that light which may sanctify the \nsoul and reach the end. Nevertheless, this effec- \ntual teaching ordinarily supposes that which is ar- \ntificial. Unlearned Christians are convinced, by \ngood evidence, that God's word is true, and his \nrewards sure : though they cannot state that evi- \ndence, or conceive of it without some confusion. \nWith respect to curious and needless inquiries \nbeyond what is levealed, it is a believer's wisdom \nimplicitly to trust his soul to Christ, and to fear \nthat vain, vexatious knowledge, which is selfish, \nand savors of a distrust of God, and is that sin, \nand fruit of sin, which the learned world too lit- \ntle fears. That \" God is the rewarder of them \nthat diligently seek him,\" and that holy souls \nshall be in blessedness with Christ, I am con- \nvinced by the following concurrent evidences, en \nwhich my soul raises its hopes: — The immortal- \nity of the soul — the belief of it naturally implant- \ned in all men — the duty of all men to seek after \nfuture happiness — the difference between men and \nbrutes, concerning the knowledge of God and fu- \nturity — the justice of God, as the governor of the \n\n\n\nChap. II. J ARE WITH CHRIST 27 \n\nworld — divine revelation — God's hearing and an \nswering prayer — the ministration of angels — the \ntemptations of Satan, and especially the sancti- \nfying operations of the Spirit of God. \n\n1. The soul of man is immortal — and there- \nfore, if good, cannot be for ever in a bad condi- \ntion. An immortal spirit is \" a distinct, self- \nconscieus, invisible being, endowed with natural \npowers of never-ceasing action, understanding \nand will, and which is neither annihilated nor de- \nstroyed by separation of parts.\" Such is the soul \nof man. If in this flesh our spirits were not in- \nactive and useless, we have no reason to think \nthat they will be so hereafter, and that for ever. \nThough by the light of nature we may know the \nimmortality of souls, yet without supernatural \nlight we know not what manner of action they \nwill have in their separate state. It satisfies me, \nthat God will not continue their noblest powers \nin vain ; and how those powers shall be exercised \nis known to him; and this his word tells us more \nthan nature. All things considered, there is no \nreason to fear that souls shall lose their activity, \nthough they change their manner of action : and \nso it is naturally certain that they are immortal \nAnd if holy souls are so far immortal, their holi- \nness must prove their happy immortality. This \nthe most just and holy God will certainly secure \nto those whom he makes holy. \n\n2. The belief of the soul's immortality is na- \nturally implanted in all men. — Almost all pagan \n\n\n\n28 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. 11. \n\nnations at this day, as well as the Mahommedans, \nbelieve it. As for the cannibals and savages, \nwhose understandings are least improved, they are \nrather ignorant of it than disbelieve it. Though \nsome philosophers denied it, they were every way \ninconsiderable : though many others were doubt- \nful, it was only a certainty which they professed \nto want, and not a probability. Most of the apos- \ntates from Christianity, beside those philoso- \nphers who have been its violent opposers, fully \nacknowledged it. Julian was so persuaded of it, \nthat with a view to it he exhorted his priests and \nthe rest of his subjects to great strictness of life, \nand to see that the Christians did not exceed them. \nIndeed, few of those that affect, like the Sad- \nducees, to disbelieve it, are able to free them- \nselves from the fears of future misery ; but, with \nall their efforts, conscience still troubles them. \nAnd whence should all this be in man, and not in \nbeasts, if man had no more cause for hopes and \nfears than they? \n\n3. God has made it every man's duty to seek \nafter future happiness as the one thing needful, \nand therefore there must certainly be such a \nhappiness for them that truly seek it. Some be \nlieve a state of future retribution, as Christians \nMahommedans, and most heathens. Others think \nit is uncertain, yet very probable. And to others \nit is also uncertain, though they rather think it \nuntrue. Now all these ought to seek after it, and \nmake it their chief care and labor; for natural rea- \n\n\n\nChap. II. J ARE WITH CHRIST. 29 \n\nson requires every man to seek that which is best \nwith the greatest diligence, and assures us that a \nprobability or possibility of future everlasting \nhappiness is better, and more worthy to be sought, \nthan any thing attainable in this present life. As \nthe will of man necessarily desires happiness, it \nmust'desire that most which is best, and which is \nknown to be so. In this life there is nothing cer- \ntain for an hour. It is certain that the longest \nlife is short. It is certain that time and sensual \npleasure, when past, are nothing, and no better \nthan if they had never been. It \\s also certain \nthat they are dissatisfying while we possess them ; \nfor carnal pleasure is no sweeter to a man than \nto a beast, and to a beast is unattended with fear \nof death, or any misery after death; nor has the \nbeast any labors, sufferings, or trials, in order to \nobtain a future happiness, or avoid a future mis- \nery. Beside, it is self-evident, from the perfec- \ntions of God, and from the nature of his works \nthat he does not make it man's natural duty 10 \ncare and labor most for that which is not, or to \nseek what is not to be attained, If so, the duty \nof man would result from deceit and falsehood; \nand God would govern the world by a lie, and \nnot by power, wisdom, and love ; and the better \nany man was, and the more he did his duty, he \nwould be only the more deluded and miserable ; \nand the more wicked and unbelieving any man \nwas, the wiser and happier would he be. But all \nthis is contrary to the perfections and works of \nd 3* \n\n\n\n30 PIODS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. 11 \n\nGod ; for he makes nothing in vain, nor can lie \nlie : much less will he make holiness itself, and \nall that duty and work of life which reason obli- \nges all men to perform, to be not only vain, but \npernicious. \n\n4. The difference between men and brutes with \nrespect to the knowledge of God and futurity, \nshows that they differ as much in their hopes. \nMan knows that there is a God by his works ; and \nthat this God is our Lord, our ruler, and end ; \nand that we naturally owe him all our love and \nobedience ; and that it is not the manner, even of \ngood men, ever to suffer their most faithful ser- \nvants to be losers by their fidelity, or to set them \nupon laboring in vain. Man also knows that his \nown soul is immortal, and therefore must be well \nor ill for ever, and that this ou?ht to be cared for. \nAnd why should God give man all this knowledge \nmore than the brutes, if man is designed for no \nmore happiness than brutes? Every wise man \nmakes his work fit for its design ; and will not \nGod do so? If God was not perfectly wise, he \nwould not be God. Therefore to deny man's fu \nture hopes, is to deny God himself. \n\n5. The justice of God as the governor of the \nworld, infers a slate of future retribution. If \nGod did not govern man by laws, judgment, and \nexecutions, there would be no proper law of na- \nture, and man would have no proper duty, nor \nbe in sin or fault. But experience tells us that \nGod morally governs the world ; and his right to \n\n\n\nChap. II.J ARE WITH CHRIST 31 \n\ndo so is unquestionable. If God was not the ru- \nler of the world, the world would have no univer- \nsal laws; for no man is the universal ruler; nor \nare kings, and other supreme powers, utterly law- \nless and ungoverned. And if God be a ruler, he \nis just ; else he is not so good as he requires earth- \nly princes to be. But how is God a righteous ru- \nler, if he draws all men to him by deceit? if he \nobliges them to seek and expect a reward which \nhe will never give? if he makes man's duty his \nmisery 1 if he requires man to labor in vain ? if he \nsuffer the wicked to persecute and kill his ser- \nvants,, without punishing the one and gloriously \nrecompensing the other, in a future state? \n\n6. The gospel revelation is the clear founda- \ntion of our faith and hope. God has not left us \nto the mere light of nature. \" Christ has brought \nlife and immortality to light.\" One greater \nthan an angel was sent from heaven to tell us what \nis there, and which is the way, and to secure our \nhopes. He has conquered death, and entered be- \nfore us, as our captain and forerunner, into the \neverlasting habitations. He has \" all power in \nheaven and earth, and all judgment is commit- \nted to him.\" All his word is full of promises of \nour future glory at the resurrection. Nor are we \nwithout assurance that the departing soul at death \nenters upon a state of joy and blessedness, as ap- \npears by the promise to the penitent thief on the \ncross ; — the parable of the rich man and Lazarus ; \n— Christ's telling the sadducees that God ; \" is not \n\n\n\n32 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II \n\nthe God of the dead, but of the living;\" — the \ntranslation of Enoch and Elijah, and the appear- \nance of Moses with Elijah on the mount of trans- \nfiguration; our Lord's arguing, that \"they who \nKill the body are not able to kill the soul:\" — \nhis \"commending his spirit into his Father's \nhands,\" and its being in paradise, while his body \nwas in the grave ; — his promising, \" Where I am, \nthere shall also my servant be,\" &c. — Stephen's \nseeing heaven opened, and his praying, \"Lord \nJesus receive my spirit;\" — our being \"come to \nthe spirits of just men made perfect;\" — Paul's de- \nsiring to depart, and to be with Christ, which is \nfar better, and to be absent from the body, and \npresent with the Lord; — the blessedness of the \ndead who die in the Lord; — the disobedient spi- \nrits being in prison, and the cities of Sodom and \nGomorrah suffering the vengeance of eternal fire ; \n— also Christ's saying, \"When ye fail, (that is, \nleave this world,) ye shall be received into e'er \nlasting habitations.\" \n\n7. God's hearing and answering prayer in this \nlife, assures his servants that he is their true ;md \nfaithful Savior. How often have I cried to him \nwhen there appeared to be no help in second \ncauses; and how frequently, suddenly, and mer- \ncifully, has he delivered me ! Such extraordinary \nchanges, beyond my own and others' expectations, \nwhile many plain-hearted, upright Christians, by \nfasting and prayer, sought God on my behalf, \nhave abundantly convinced me of a special provi- \n\n\n\nChap. II.] ARE WITH CHRIST. 33 \n\ndence, and that God is indeed a hearer of prayer. \nI have also seen wonders done for others by prayer \nmore than for myself: though I and others are too \nmuch like those who \" cried unto the Lord in \ntheir trouble, and he saved them out of their dis- \ntresses ; but they forgot his works, and his won- \nders that he showed them.\" And what were all \nthose merciful answers, but the fruits of Christ's \npower, faithfulness, and love, the fulfilling of his \npromises, and the earnest of the greater blessing \nof immortality, which the same promises entitle \nme to ? \n\n8. The ministration of angels is also a help to \nmy belief of immortality with Christ. — \" They \nhave charge over us, — encamp round about us, — \nbear us up in their hands, — joy in the presence of \nGod over our repentance, — and are all ministering \nspirits, sent forth to minister to the heirs of sal- \nvation. — As our angels, they always behold the \nface of our Father which is in heaven. — When \nthe Son of man shall come in his glory, all the \nholy angels shall come with him, and he shall \nsend them forth, and they shall sever the wicked \nfrom among the just.\" Not only of old did they \nappear to the faithful as messengers from God, but \nmany mercies does God give to us by their min- \nistry. And that they are now so friendly and \nhelpful to us, and make up one society with us, \ngreatly encourages us to hope that we are made \nfor the same region, employment, and converse. \nThey were once in a life of trial, though not on \n\n\n\n34 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II \n\nearth; and having overcome, they rejoice in our \nvictory. The world above us is not uninhabited, \nnor beyond our capacity and hope ; but we are \ncome to the city of the Jiving God, and to an in \nnumerable company of angels. \n\n9. Even Satan himself by his temptations has \nmany ways cherished my hopes of immortality \nThere are {e\\v men, I think, that observe what \nmasses within them, but have had some experience \nof such inward temptations, as show that the au- \nthor of them is an invisible enemy, and assure us \nthat there are diabolical spirits, which seek man's \nmisery by tempting him to sin, and consequently \nthat future happiness or misery must be expected \nby us all. \n\n10. More especially the sanctifying operations \nof the Spirit of God, are the earnest of heaven, \nand the sure prognostic of our immortal happi- \nness. It is a change of grand importance to man, \nto be renewed in his mind, his will, and life. It \nrepairs his depraved faculties. It causes man to \nlive as man, who was degenerated to a life too much \nlike the brutes. Men are slaves to sin till Christ \nmakes them free. \" Where the Spirit of the Lord is \nthere is liberty.\" If\" the love of God shed abroad \nin our hearts,\" be not our excellence, health, and \nbeauty, what is ? \" That which is born of the flesh \nis flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit, is \nspirit. \" Without Christ\" and his Spirit, \" we can \ndo nothing.\" Our dead notions and reason, though \nwe see the truth, have not power to overcome \n\n\n\nChap. II.] ARE WITH CHRIST. 3j> \n\ntemptations, nor raise up man's soul to its origi- \nnal end, nor possess us with the love and joy- \nful hope of future blessedness. It were better for \nus to have no souls, than have our souls void of \nthe Spirit of God. — Heaven is the design and end \nof this important change. What is our knowledge \nand faith, but to know and believe that heaven \nconsists in the glory and love of God there ma- \nnifested, and that it was purchased by Christ, and \ngiven by his covenant? What is our hope, but \n\" the hope of glory,\" which we through the Spirit \nwait for? What is our love, but a desire of com- \nmunion with the blessed God, begun here, and \nperfected hereafter? What Christ teaches and \ncommands, he works in us by his Spirit. He \nsends not his Spirit to make men craftier than \nothers for this world, but \" wiser to salvation,\" \nand more holy and heavenly. \" The children of \nthis world are in their generation wiser than the \nchildren of light.\" Heavenly mindedness is the \nspecial work of the Spirit. In producing this \nchange, the Spirit overcomes all opposition from \nthe world, the flesh, and the devil. Christ first \novercame the world, and teaches and causes us \nto overcome it, even in its flatteries and its frowns, \n\" Our faith is our victory.\" Whether this victory \nbe easy and honorable to the Spirit of Christ, let \nus appeal to our experience of the wickedness of \nthe world, and of our own weakness and falls. \nNone can do this work on the soul of man, but \nGod, Not the most learned and holy teachers, of \n\n\n\n36 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. \n\nthe wisest and most affectionate parents, or \ngreatest princes. Evil angels neither can, nor v \ndo it. Good angels do nothing toward it, but \nobedient ministers of God. We cannot quicki \nilluminate, or sanctify ourselves ; and though \nhave some power, both conscience and experien \ntestify, that we have nothing but \" what we ha \nreceived,\" — Christ promised his Sp'rit to all tr \nbelievers, to be in them as his advocate, agei \nseal, and mark ; and indeed the Spirit here, a \nheaven hereafter, are the chief of his promise \nThat this Spirit is given to all true believers, \nevident by the effects of it. They have enr \naffections, and lives, different from the rest of ma \nkind : they live upon the hope of a better life, a \ntheir heavenly interest overrules all the opposi \ninterests of this world ; in order to which th \nlive under the conduct of divine authority, and \nobey and please God is the great business of t* \nlives. The men of the world discern this diflt \nence, and therefore hate and oppose them becau \nthey find themselves condemned by their heaven \ntemper and conversation. Believers are conscio \nof this difference ; for they desire to be better, a: \nto trust and love God more, and to have more \nihe heavenly life and comforts; and when th< \ninfirmities m«ake them doubt of their own since \nty t they would not change their governor, rul \nor hopes, for all the world ; and it is never \nwell and pleasant with them, as when they c \ntrust and love God most; and in their worst a \n\n\n\nJhap. II. J ARE WITH CHRIST. 37 \n\n'eakest condition they would fain be perfect, \nndeed, whatever real goodness is found among \nnen, it is given by the same Spirit of Christ : but \nt is notorious, that, in heavenly mindedness and \nirtue, no part of the world is comparable to seri- \nes Christians. This Spirit, Christ also expressly \n•romised, as the means and pledges, the first-fruits \nnd earnest, of the heavenly glory ; and, therefore, \nt is a certain proof that we shall have such a glo* \ny. He that gives us such a spiritual change, \nvrhich in its nature and tendency is heavenly ; he \nhat sets our hopes and hearts on heaven, and \nurns the endeavors of our lives toward future \ndessedness, and promised this preparatory grace \ns the earnest of that felicity, may well be trusted \no perform his word in our complete, eternal glory. \n\nAnd now, O weak and fearful soul ! why should- \nst thou draw back, as if the matter was doubtful? \n\nnot thy foundation firm? Is not the way of life, \nhrough the valley of death, made safe by him \nhat conquered death ? Art thou not yet delivered \nrom the bondage of thy fears ? Hast thou not \nong ago found in thee the motions and effectual \n>perations of this Spirit ? And is he not still re- \niding and working in thee, as the agent and wit- \nless of Christ ? If not, whence are thy groanings \nifter God, thy desires to be nearer to Lis glory, \no know him and love him more? Whence came \nill the pleasure thou hast had in his sacred truth, \nind ways, and service? Who subdued for thee \nhy folly, pride, and vain desires ? Who made it \n\n4 Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n38 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II. \n\nthy choice to sit at the feet of Jesus, and hear his \nword, as the better part, and count the honors \nand preferments of the vvorid but dung and dross ? \nWho breathed in all those rea x uests thou hast sent \nup to God? Overvalue not corrupt nature, it \nbrings forth no such fruits as these. Remember \nwhat thou wast in the hour of temptation, how \nsmall a matter has drawn thee to sin. Forget not \nthe days of thy youthful vanity. Overlook not \nthe case of thy sinful neighbors, who, in the \nmidst of light, still live in darkness, and hear not \nth»e loudest calls of God. Is it no work of Christ's \nSpirit that has made thee to differ? Thou hast \nnothing to boast of, and much to be humbled and \nalso to be thankful for. Thy holy desires are, \nalas ! too weak ; but they are holy. Thy love \nhas been too cold ; but it is the most holy God \nwhom thou hast loved. Thy hopes have been too \nlow ; but thou hast hoped in God, and for his hea- \nvenly glory. Thy prayers have been too dull and \ninterrupted ; but thou hast prayed for holiness and \nheaven. Thy labors have been too slothful ; but \nthou hast labored for God and Christ, and the \ngood of mankind. Though thy motion was too \nweak and slow, it has been God-ward, and there- \ntore it is from God. O bless the Lord, not only \nlor giving thee his word, and sealing it with un- \ncontroled miracles, but also for frequently and \nremarkably fulfilling his promises, in the answer \nof thy prayers, and in great deliverance of thyself \nupd of many others; and that he has by regenera- \n\n\n\nChap. II.J ARE WITfc CHRIST. 39 \n\ntion been preparing thee for the light of glory! \nAnd wilt thou yet doubt and fear, against all this \nevidence, experience, and foretaste? \n\nI think it no needless labor to confirm my soul \nin the full persuasion of the truth of its immortal \nnature, and of a future life of joy or misery, and \nof the certain truth of the Christian faith. I can \nno more doubt the being and perfections of God, \nthan whether there be an earth or a sun. Chris- \ntianity is only known by revelation, which is so \nattested externally to the w r orld, internally to holy \nsouls, as makes faith a ruling, victorious, and com- \nfortable principle. But the soul's immortality and \nfuture reward is known in some measure by the \nlight of nature, and more perfectly by revelation. \nWhen I consider the great unlikeness of men's \nhearts and lives to such a belief as we all profess, \nI cannot but fear, that not only the ungodly, but \nmost that truly hope for glory, have a far weaker \nbelief of the soul's immortality, and the truth of \nthe gospel, than they are apt to imagine. Can I \nbe fully persuaded of the future rewards and pun- \nishments of souls, and that we shall be judged \nhereafter as we have lived here, without despising \nall the vanities of the world, and setting my heart \nwith resolution and diligence to a holy, heavenly \nfruitful life? Who could stand trifling, as most \nmen do, at the door of eternity, that verily believed \nhis immortal soul must be shortly there ? Though \nsuch a one had no certainty of his own salvation, \nhe would nevertheless search and try, watch and \n\n\n\n40 PI0U3 SEPARATE SPIRITS [Chap. II. \n\npray, and spare no care, cost, or labor, to make \nall sure. If a man once saw heaven and hell, \nwould he not afterward exceed the most resolute \nbeliever ? I confess there is much weakness of \nfaith in things unseen, even where there is since- \nrity. But where there is little diligence for the \nworld to come, I must think there is but little be- \nlief of it, and that such persons are not aware how \nmuch they secretly doubt the truth of it. Most \ncomplain of the uncertainty of their title to salva- \ntion, and very little of their uncertainty whether \nthere be a heaven and a hell. Whereas a hearty \npersuasion of the latter, would do more to con- \nvince them of the former than long examinations, \nand many marks of trial. It would, indeed, con- \nfound faith and reason, if in the body we had as \nclear and lively apprehensions of heaven and hell \nas sight would occasion ; nor is the soul fit, while \nin the body, to bear such a sight. But yet there \nis an overruling seriousness, to which the soul \nmust be brought by a firm persuasion of future \nthings. And he that is careful and serious for \nthis world, and looks after a better only as a se- \ncondary object, must give me leave to think that \nhe believes but as he lives, and that his doubting \nof a heaven and hell is greater than his belief. \n\nO then, for what should my soul more pray, \nthan for a clearer and stronger faith? \" I believe; \nLord help my unbelief!\" I have many thousand \ntimes groaned to thee under litis burden of remain- \ning darkness and unbelief: 1 have many thousand \n\n\n\nChap. II. J ARE WITH CHRIST. 41 \n\ntimes thought of the evidences of Christianity; \nand of the necessity of a lively, powerful, active \nfaith. I have cried to thee night and day, ' Lord, \nincrease my faith !' I have written and spoken \nthat to others, which might be most useful to my- \nself, and render my faith more like sense. Yet, \nLord, how dark is this world ! What a dungeon \nis flesh ! How little clearer are my perceptions of \nthings unseen, than they were long ago ! Is no \nmore growth of them to be expected? Does the \nsoul no more increase in vigorous perception, \nwhen the body no mors increases in the vigor \nof sensation ?• Must I sit down with so slow a \nmeasure, when I am almost there, where faith is \nchanged for sight? O let not a soul, that is driv- \nen from this world, and weary of vanity, and can \nthink of little else but immortality, that seeks and \ncries both night and day for the heavenly light, \nand fain would have some foretaste of glory, and \nsome more of the first-fruits of the promised joys, \n— let not such a soul either long, or cry, or strive \nin vain ! Punish not my former grieving of thy \nSpirit, by deserting a soul that cries for thy grace* \nso near its great and inconceivable change ! Let \nme not languish in vain desires, at the door of \nhope ; nor pass with doubts and fears from this \nvale of misery ! Which should be the season of \ntriumphant faith, and hope, and joy, if not when \nI am entering on the world of joy? O thou, that \nhast left us so many words of promise, * that our \njoy may be full : send, O send the Comforter* for \nd 4* \n\n\n\n42 PIOUS SEPARATE SPIRITS | ChapJI. \n\nwithout his heavenly beams, after a thousand \nthoughts and cares, it will still be night and win- \nter with my soul !\" \n\nBut I fear a distrust of God and my Redeemer \nhas had too great a hand in my desires after a \nmore distinct knowledge than God ordinarily gives \nto souls in flesh. I know that I should implicitly, \nabsolutely, and quietly commit my soul into my \nRedeemer's hands; for a distrustful care of the \nsoul, as well as the body, is our great sin and mis- \nery. Yet we must desire that our knowledge and \nbelief may be as distinct as divine revelations are. \nWe can love no farther than we know; and the \nmore we know of God and glory, the more we \nshall love, desire, and trust. If I may not be \nambitious of too sensible and distinct foretastes \nof things unseen, yet I must desire and beg the \nmost fervent love of them of which I am capable, \nthat my soul may not pass with distrust and terror, \nbut with suitable triumphant hopes, to everlasting \npleasures. \" O Father of lights, who givest wis- \ndom to them that ask, shut not up this sinful soul \nin darkness ! Leave me not to grope in unsatisfied \ndoubts, at the door of celestial light ! Deny me \nnot now the lively exercise of faith, hope, and \nlove, which are the stirrings of the new creature, \nthe dawnings of eternal day, and the earnest of the \npromised inheritance I\" Though, like Cicero's, \nafter reading Plato's book on immortality, our \ndoubts return, and our fear interrupts and weakens \nour desires and joys ; yet I find that it is chiefly \n\n\n\nChap. III. J ARE WITH CHRIST. 43 \n\nan irrational fear, occasioned by the darkness of \nthe mind, the greatness of the change, the dreadful \nmajesty of God, and man's natural aversion to \ndeath, even when reason is fully satisfied that such \nfear is consistent with certain safety. Were I on \nthe top of a castle or steeple,, fastened by the \\ \nstrongest chains, or guarded by the surest battle- \nments, I could not possibly look down without \nfear; and so it is with our prospeetinto the life to \ncome. If, therefore, my soul sees undeniable evi- \ndence of immortality, and is able by irrefragable \narguments to prove a future blessedness ; if I am \nconvinced that divine promises are true, and trust \nmy soul and all my hope upon them ; then nei- \nther my averseness to die, nor my irrational fear \nof entering upon eternity, can invalidate the rea- \nsons of my hope, or prove the unsoundness of my \nfaith, but only the weakness of it. \" Why are ye \nfearful, O ye of little faith ?\" was Christ's just re- \nproof to his disciples. A timorous heart needs to \nbe chided, by saying, \" Why art thou cast down, \nO my soul? and why art thou disquieted within \nme? Hope thou in God,\" &c» \n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII \n\nWhat it is to depart, and to be with Christ. \n\nHaving proved that faith and hope have a cer- \ntain future happiness to expect, the text directs \n\n\n\n44 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. Ill . \n\nme next to consider,— What it is to be with Christ; \nand — What it is to depart, in order to be with him. \n\nI. To be with Christ, includes — Presence with \nhim, — Union to him, and — Participation of his \nhappiness. \n\n1. The presence of Christ, which piousseparate \nspirits shall enjoy, must refer to his Godhead as \nwell as to his human soul and body. We shall \nbe present with the divine nature of Christ, as \nmanifested in and by his glory. He teaches us to \npray, \" Our Father, which art in heaven,\" because \nin heaven the Father gloriously shines forth to- \nholy souls. The soul of man is eminently said \nto be in the head, because there it understand* \nand reasons; and not in the foot or hand, though \nit be also there. As we look a man in the face \nwhen we talk to him, so we look up to heaven \nwhen we pray to God. Though \" in God we live, \nand move, and have our being,\" both as the God \nof nature and grace, yet by the works and splen- \ndor of his glory he is eminently in heaven, man- \nifesting himself there by some created glory; for \nhis essence is the same every where. We shall \nbe present with the human nature of Christ, both \nsoul and body. But here our present narrow \nthoughts must not too boldly presume to deter- \nmine the difference between Christ's glorified bo- \ndy and his flesh upon earth ; nor where his glo- \nrified body is nor how far it extends; nor where- \nin his soul and his glorified body differ, seeing it \n\n\n\nCh£p. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 45 \n\nIs called a spiritual body. We can conceive no \nmore of such a body than that it is pure, in \ncorruptible, invisible to mortal eyes, and fitted to \nhe most perfect state of the soul. Nor need we \nwonder how a whole world of glorified bodies can \nall of them be present with the one body of Christ; \nfor as the solar beams are so present with the air \nthat none can discern the difference of the places \nwhich they possess, and a world of bodies are pre- \nsent with them both; so may all our bodies, with- \nout any confusion, be present with Christ's body. \n% The union to Christ, which pious separate \nspirits shall also enjoy, must be like that of sub- \njects to their king ; but how much more we know \nnot. The more spiritual, pure, and noble any na- \ntures are, the more inclination they have to union. \nSuch instances of union, as the vine and branches, \nthe head and members, are of extensive import ; \nyet being but similitudes, we cannot determine \nhow extensive. Far be it from us to think that \nChrist's glorified body is of such an earthly com- \nposition, and of such a limited extent as it was \nhere ; for then, as his disciples and a iew more \nwere present with him, while the rest of the \nworld were absent and had none of his company, \nso it would be in heaven. But all true believers, \nfrom the creation to the end of the world, as well \nas a Paul, shall \" be with Christ, and see his glo- \nry.\" And though there will be different degrees \nof glory, as there have been of holiness, yet none \nin heaven are at such a distance from Christ as \nnot to enjoy the felicity of his presence. \n\n\n\n16 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. Ill \n\n3. We shall also have communion with the di- \nvine and human natures of Christ; both which \nshall be the felicitating objects of perfect knowledge \nand holy love to the separate spirits,, before the \nresurrection. The chief part of this communion \nwill consist in Christ's communications to the \nsoul. As the whole creation is more dependent on \nGod than the fruit on the tree, or plant on the \nearth, or the members on the body, so God uses \nsecond causes in his communications to inferior \nnatures ; and it is more than probable that Christ's \nhuman nature is the second cause of communica- \nting both grace and glory, both to man in the bo- \ndy and to the separate soul. As the sun is both \nthe cause and object of sight to the eye, so is \nChrist to the soul. For as God, so the Lamb is \nthe light and glory of the heavenly Jerusalem, \nand in his light they chall have light. Though \nChrist shall give up the kingdom to the Father, \nso that God maybe \" all in all,\" and his creatures \nbe fully restored to his favor, and a healing gov- \nernment for recovering lapsed souls to God shall \nbe no more needed; yet surely he will not cease \nto be our Mediator, the church's head, and the \nchannel of everlasting light, life, and love to all \nhis members. As \" we now live because he lives,' \nlike the branches in the vine; and as the Spirit \nthat now quickens, enlightens, and sanctifies us, \nis first the Spirit of Christ before it is ours, and \nis communicated from God through him to us; so \nwill it be in the state of glory: there our union \n\n\n\nChap. Ill*] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST- 47 \n\nand communion with him will be perfected, and \nnot destroyed or diminished. As it would be ar- \nrogance to think we shall be above the need and \nuse of Christ and his communications ; so, I doubt \nnot, we shall ever have use for one another, as is \nplainly intimated by \" sitting down with Abraham, \nIsaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God ;\" by be \ning \" in Abraham's bosom ;\" by \" sitting at Christ's \nright and left hand in his kingdom ;\" by being \n\" made ruler over ten cities;\" and by joining with \nthose that \"sing the song of Moses and of the Lamb \" \nAnd certainly if I be \" with Christ,\" I shall be \nwith all them that are with Christ, even with all \nthe heavenly society. Our mortal bodies must \nhave so much room, that the earth is little enough \nfor all its inhabitants. So narrow is our capacity \nof communion here, that those of the antipodes, \nor on the opposite side of the earth, are almost \nas strange to us as if they were in another world. \nWhat strangers are we to those of another king- \ndom, county, or parish, and even of another house. \nBut we have great cause to think, by many scrip- \ntural expressions, that our heavenly union and \ncommunion will be nearer and more extensive, \nand that all the glorified shall know each other. \nIt is, I confess, a pleasant thought to me, and \ngreatly helps my willingness to die, to think that \nI shall go to all the holy ones, both Christ, and \nangels, and pious separate spirits. They are each \nof them better and more amiable than I am. Ma- \nny are better than one, and the perfect whole \n\n\n\n48 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART. [ Chap. Ill, \n\nthan a sinful part, and the New Jerusalem is the \nglory of the creation. God has given me a love \nto all that are holy, for their holiness ; and a love \nto the work of love and praise, which they con- \ntinually and perfectly perform ; and a love to his \ncelestial habitation, to his glory shining there. \nMy old acquaintance with many a holy person \ngone to Christ, makes my thoughts of heaven the \nmore familiar to me. O how many of them could \nI name ! And it is no small encouragement to \none that is to enter upon an unseen world, to \nthink that he goes no untrodden path, nor enters \ninto a solitary or singular state ; but follows all \nthat, from the creation to this day, have passed by \ndeath into endless life. O how emboldening to \nconsider that I am to go the same way, and to \nthe same place and state, with all the believers \nand saints that have ever gone before me ! \n\nII. But I must \" depart before I can thus \" be \nwith Christ.\" I must particularly depart — from \nthis body — from all its former delights — and also \nfrom more rational pleasures belonging to the \npresent life and world. \n\n1. I must depart from this body. Here these \neyes must see no more, this hand move no more, \nthese feet walk no more, this tongue speak no \nmore. As much as I have loved, and over-loved \nthis body, I must leave it to the grave. There \nmust it lie and rot in darkness, as a neglected and \nloathsome thing. This is the fruit of sin, and Ha- \n\n\n\nChap. 1II.1 AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 49 \n\nture would not have it so. But it is only my shell, \nmy tabernacle, my clothing, and not my soul itself. \nIt is only a dissolution ; earth to earth. It is but \nan instrument laid by, when all its work is done ; \na servant dismissed, when his service is enced ; \nas I cast by my lute when I have better employ- \nment. It is but as flowers die in autumn, and \nplants in winter. It is but a separation from a \ntroublesome companion, and putting off a shoe \nthat pinched me. Many a sad and painful hour, \nmany a weary night and day, have I had. What \ncares and fears, what griefs and groans, has this \nbody cost me ! Alas ! how much of my precious \ntime has been spent to maintain, please, or repair \nit ! Often have I thought that it cost me so dear \nto live, yea, to live a painful weary life, that were \nit not for the higher ends of life, I had little rea- \nson to be much in love with it, or be loth to leave \nit. To depart from such a body, is but to remove \nfrom a sordid habitation. I know it is the curious \nwonderful work of God, and not to be despised \nor unjustly dishonored, but admired and well \nused ; yet our reason wonders that so noble a \nspirit should be so meanly housed, for we must \ncall it \" our vile body.\" To depart from such a \nbody, is but to be \" loosed from the bondage of \ncorruption,\" from the clog and prison of the soul. \nThat body, which was a fit servant to the soul of \ninnocent man, is now become as a prison. And \nfurther, to depart from such a body, is but to be \nseparated from an accidental enemy, and one of \n\n5 Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n50 WHAT IT IS TO D I. PART, | Chap. Ill \n\nour greatest and most hurtful enemies ; not, in- \ndeed, as the work of our Creator, but as the effect \nof sin. What could Satan, or any other enemy \nof our souls, have done against us without our \nflesh? What is it but the interest of this body \nthat stands in competition with the interest of \nGod and our souls? What else do the profane \nsell their heavenly inheritance for, as Esau his \nbirthright? W'hat else is the bait of ambition, \ncovetousness, and sensuality ? What takes up \nthe thoughts and cares which we should lay out \nupon things spiritual and heavenly, but this body \nand its life ? What steals away men's hearts from \nthe heavenly pleasures of faith, hope, and love, \nbut the pleasures of this flesh ? This draws us to \nsin, and hinders us from and in our duty. Were \nit not for bodily interests and temptations, how \nmuch more innocent and' holy might I live! I \nbhould have nothing to care for, but to please \nGod and be pleased in him, were it not for the \nrare of this bodily life. What employment should \nmy will and love have but to delight in God, and \nlove him and his interest, were it not for the love \nof the body and its concerns? By this the mind \nis darkened, the thoughts diverted, our wills cor- \nrupted, our heart and time alienated from God, \nour guilt increased, our heavenly desires and hopes \ndestroyed ; life is made unholy and uncomfortable, \nand death terrible. God and souls are separated, \nand eternal life is neglected and in danger of be- \ning utterly lost. I know that in all this the sin- \n\n\n\nChap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 51 \n\nfol soul is tiie chief cause and agent : but is not \nbodily interest its temptation, bait, and end ? Is \nnot the body, and its life and pleasure, the chief \nilluring cause of all this sin and misery? And \nshall I take such a body to be better than heaven, \nor refuse to be loosed from so troublesome a yoke- \nfellow, and separated from so burdensome and \ndangerous a companion? \n\n2. I must depart from all the former pleasures \nof this body. I must taste no more sweetness in \nmeat or drink, in rest or action, or any such thing \nas now delights me. Houses and lands, goods and \nWealth must all be left; and the place where I live \nmust know me no more. All I labored for, or \ntook delight in, must be no more to me than if \nthey had never been. But consider, O my soul! \nThy former pleasures are already past. Thou \nlosest none of them by death, for they af'e all lost \nbefore; unless immortal grace has made them im- \nmortal by sanctifying them. All that death does \nto them is to prevent the repetition of them upon \nearth. Is not the pleasure which .we lose by death \ncommon to every brute? Meat is as sweet to \nthem, and ease as welcome, and appetite as vehe- \nment. Why then should it seem hard to us to \nlose that, when God pleases, which we deprive \nthe brutes of at our pleasure ? If we are believ- \ners, we only exchange these delights of life for \nthe greater delights of a life with Christ; a com- \nfort which our fellow-creatures the brutes have \nsot Are not the pleasures of life usually embit* \n\n\n\n52 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. I1L \n\ntered with such pain that they seldom counter- \nvail the attending vanity and vexation? It is true, \nnature desires life under sufferings that are tolera- \nble, rather than die: but that is not so uuch from \nthe sensible pleasure of life, as from mere natural \ninclination to life, which God has implanted in us \nDo we not willingly interrupt these pleasures eve- \nry night, when we betake ourselves to sleep? To \nsay that rest is my pleasure is but to say, that my \ndaily labors and cares are so much greater than \nmy waking pleasures, that I am glad to lay by \nboth together. If we can thus be content every \nnight to die, as it were, to all our waking plea- \nsures, why should we be unwilling to die to them \nall at once ? — If they be forbidden pleasures \nwhich you are unwilling to leave, those must be \nleft before you die, otherwise you had better \nnever have been born. Every wise and godly \nman casts them off with detestation. Indeed, the \nsame cause which makes men unwilling to live a \nholy life, has a great hand in making them unwil- \nling to die — even because they are loath to leave \nthe pleasures of sin. If the wicked be converted, \nhe must be gluttonous and drunken no more; he \nmust live in pride, vanity, worldly-mindedness, \nand sensual pleasures no more; and therefore he \ndraws back from a holy life, as it were from death \nitself. But what is this to those who \"have mor- \ntified the flesh with the affections and lusts?\" \nConsider also, that these forbidden pleasures are \nthe great impediments both of our holiness and \n\n\n\nChap. III. J A!*D TO BE WITH CHRIST. 53 \n\nof our truest pleasures. One of the reasons why \nGod forbids them, is because they hinder us from \nbetter; and if, for our own good, we must forsake \nthem when we turn to God, we should therefore \nbe the more willing to die, in order to be free from \nthe danger of them ; and especially since death \nwill transmit us to infinitely greater pleasures. \n\n3. I must also depart from the more rational \npleasures which I have enjoyed in this body ; as, \nfor instance, from my present studieSi which are \ndelights far above those of sensual sinners. But \nlet me consider — how small is our knowledge \ncompared with our ignorance! How little does \nthe knowledge of the learned differ from the \nthoughts of a child ! As trifles are the matter of \nchildish knowledge, so artificial words and forms \nmake up more of the learning of the world than \nis commonly understood. God, and the life to \ncome, are little better known by the learned, and \noften much less than by many of the unlearned. \nOf how little use is it to know what is contained \nin many hundred volumes that fill our libraries, \nand have given their authors the name of virtuosi; \nnot for their having the virtue to live to God, or \novercome temptations from the flesh and the world, \nand secure their everlasting hopes ! Much of our \nreading and learning, alas! does us more harm \nthan good. Many a precious hour is lost in them, \nthat should be employed in higher pursuits. To \nmany, I fear, it is as unholy a pleasure as others \ntake in thinking of lands and honors; only the \n\n\n\n54 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. Ill \n\nmore dangerous for being the less suspected. I \nknow the knowledge of natural things is valuable, \nand may be sanctified, and made some way useful \nto my highest e-nds, and I would be at any ex- \npense to procure more. But I must earnestly \npray, \"May the Lord forgive me the hours that \nI have spent in reading things less profitable, for \nthe sake of pleasing a mind that would fain know \nevery thing, instead of spending them for the in- \ncrease of holiness in myself and others.\" Yet I \nmust thankfully acknowledge to God, that \"from \nmy youth he taught me to begin with things of \nthe greatest weight, and to refer most of my other \nstudies thereto, and to spend my days under the \nmotives of necessity and profit to myself, and \nthose that were committed to me.\" I would have \nmen most relish that learning in their health \nwhich they will find sweetest in sickness, and \nwhen near to death. And, alas ! how expensive \na vanity is this knowledge! Though it little dif- \nfers from a pleasant dream, yet to attain a little \nexcellency in it, how many laborious days and \nweeks must it cost us! \"Much study is a weari- \nness of the flesh, and he that increaseth know- \nledge inereaseth sorrow.\" What painful diseases \nand loss of bodily ease and health has it occa- \nsioned me! What envy and opposition has it ex- \nposed me to! And should a man be loath to die \nfor fear of leaving such troublesome, costly learn- \ning and knowledge? Let me especially consider \nthat we shall certainly have a nobler sweeter, and \n\n\n\nChap. III. J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 55 \n\nmore extensive knowledge than is here attainable* \nLove never fails, and we can love no more than \nwe know : \" But prophecies shall fail ; tongues \nshall cease ; knowledge,\" such as we now have, \n\"shall vanish away. When I was a child I spake \nas a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a \nchild ; but when I became a man I put away child- \nish things. For now we see through a glass dark- \nly, but then face to face ; now I know in part, but \nthen shall I know, even as also I am known ;\" for \nthough my knowledge will not be like that of the \nblessed God, it will be like that of holy spirits. \nIn order for a physician to describe the disease of \nhis patient, he needs much reading and close in- \nquiry ; and after all, he goes much upon conjec- \ntures, and his knowledge is mixed with many un- \ncertainties and mistakes ; but when he opens his \ncorpse his knowledge is more full and true, and \nobtained with greater ease and speed. A coun- \ntryman knows the town, fields, and rivers, plants, \nand animals, where he dwells, with ease, pers- \npicuity, and certainty, when mere geographical \nknowledge is liable to many mistakes. So the \nsight of God and heaven will deserve the name of \nwisdom, while our present glimpse is but philoso- \nphy or the love of wisdom. We should not, there- \nfore, fear death, for fear of losing our knowledge; \nbut rather long for the world of glorious light, \nthat we may get out of this darkness, into easy, \njoyful, and satisfying knowledge. \n\nFriendship is one of the more rational plea- \n\n\n\n5(5 WHAT IT 13 TO DEPART, [Chap; UL \n\nsures enjoyed in this body, and from which I must \ndepart. He that believes not that there are far \nmore and better friends in heaven than there are \non earth, believes not, as he ought, that there is a \nheaven. Our friends here are wise ; but they are \nalso unwise. They are faithful, but partly un- \nfaithful. They are holy, but, alas ! too sinfuh \nThey have the image of God, but it is blotted and \ndishonored by their faults. They do God and his \nchurch much service: but they also do too much \nfor Satan, even when they intend the honor of \nGod. They promote the Gospel; but they also \nhindei it by their weakness and ignorance, their \nselfishness, pride, and passion, their divisions and \ncontentions. They are our helpers and comfort- \ners ; but how often are they also our hinderance, \ntrouble, and grief: in heaven they are perfectly \nwise, and holy, and faithful; and there is nothing \nin them, nor done by them, but what is amiable \nto God and man. With our faithful friends we \nhave here a mixture of those that are useless and \nburdensome, or hypocritical and malicious. But in \nheaven there are none but the wise and holy ; no \nhypocrites, no burdensome neighbors, no treache- \nrous, oppressive, or persecuting enemies. Christ \nloved his disciples, his kindred, and all mankind, \nand took pleasure in doing good to all ; and so did \nhis apostles; but how poor a recompense had he \nor they from any but from God ! Christ's M breth- \nren believed not on him.\" Peter denied him. \n\"All his disciples forsook him and fled.' 1 And \n\n\n\nChap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 57 \n\nwhat then could be expected from others 1 No \nfriends have a perfect suitableness to each other ; \nand those inequalities that are nearest to us are \nmost troublesome. So various and contrary are \nour apprehensions, interests, educations, our tem- \npers, inclinations, and temptations, that instead of \nwondering at the discord and confusions of the \nworld, we may rather admire the providence of \nGod which maintains so much order and concord. \nThe greatest crimes that have been charged upon \nme, have been those things which I thought to be \nmy greatest duties ; and for those parts of my obe- \ndience to God and my conscience which cost me \ndearest, and where I pleased my flesh least, I \npleased the world least. And is this tumultuous, \nmilitant world, a place that I should be loath to \nleave 1 \n\nI must depart from all the means of grace, \nthough more precious to me than all earthly en- \njoyments. Shall! love the name of heaven better \nthan heaven itself? Is not the possession of glory \nbetter than the promise of it? If a light and \nguide through the wilderness be good, surely the. \nglorious end must be better. It hath pleased God \nthat all tMngs on earth, even the sacred Scriptures, \nshould bear the marks of our state of imperfec- \ntion. Imperfect persons were the penmen. Im- \nperfect human language is the conveyance. Hea- \nven will not, to perfect spirits, be made the occa- \nsion of so many errors and controversies as the \nScriptures are to us im perfect mortals. Yea, heaven \n\n\n\n58 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. HI, \n\nis the more desirable, because there I shall betiei \nunderstand the Scriptures than here I can evei \nhope to do. To leave my Bible, and to go to the \nGod and heaven which the Bible reveals, will be \nno otherwise my loss than to leave the picture for \nthe presence of my friend. As for mere human \nwritings and instructions, the pleasure of my mind \nis much abated by their great imperfection; and \nwhy should I think that my own are blameless? \nI must for ever be thankful for the holy instruc- \ntions and writings of others, notwithstanding hu- \nman frailty ; and so must I be thankful that God \nhath made any use of my own for the good of souls \nand the edification of his church. But how many \nalloys are there to such comforts ? If good men \nand good books or sermons make the world seem \nover-lovely, it will be the mercy of God to abate \nthe temptation. When we are dead to the love of \nthe godly themselves, of learning, books, and or- \ndinances, so far as they serve a selfish interest \nand tempt our hearts from heavenly aspirations ; \nthen indeed \"the world is crucified to us, and we \n.to it.\" \n\nOf all things, a departing soul has least cause \nto fear losing the knowledge of worldly affairs. \nIf the sun gives light and heat to the earth, why \nshould I think that blessed spirits have no acquain- \ntance with earthly concerns ? From the top of a \nhill I can see more than from below ; and shall I \nknow less of earth from heaven than I do now ? \nIt is unlikely that my capacity will be so little, or \n\n\n\nChap. III. J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 59 \n\nthat Christ and all the angels will be so strange to \nme as to give me no notice of things so interesting \nto my God and Redeemer, to the holy society of \nwhich I am member, and to myself as a member \nof that societ)-. Spirits are most active and of \nquick and powerful communication. They need \nnot send letters, nor write books, nor lift up a \nvoice. And as activity, so unity is greatest where \nthere is most perfection. Their knowledge, love \nand joy will be one. My celestial advancement, \ntherefore, will be no diminution, but an inconceiv- \nable increase, of my desirable knowledge of things \non earth. If, indeed, I shall know less of things \nbelow, it will be because the knowledge of them \nis a part of vanity and vexation, which have no \nplace in heaven. I need not be afraid to hear any \nmore of bloody wars, desolated countries, dissi- \npated churches, persecuted Christians, silenced \npreachers, party conflicts, contentious divines, cen- \nsorious professors of religion, with the cries of \nthe poor, or the endless complaints of the melan- \ncholy. \n\nNor need I fear what other men are pleased to \nsuggest, that the church will want me. Is it I, \nor God, that must choose his servants, and cut \nout their work ? Am I doing God's work, or my \nown! If God's, must not he say what, and when, \nand how r long ? And will not his will and choice \nbe best? If I believe not this, how do I take him \nfor my God? Does God, or I, know best w r hat \nv is yet to be done, and who is fittest to do it? — \n\n\n\n60 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. III. \n\nWhat am I to those more excellent persons who \nin all ages God hath taken out of the world? \nHave not many servants of Christ died in their \nyouth, who were far more likely to win souls and \nglorify God than I am, or ever have been? And \nshall I, at seventy-six years of age, after such a \nlife of unspeakable mercies, and after almost fifty- \nthree years of comfortable help in the service of \nmy Lord, be now afraid of my reward, and shrink \nat the sentence of death, and still be desirous to \nstay here, under pretence of farther service ? \nWe know not what is best for the church, as God \ndoes. The church and the world are not ours, \nbut his: not our desires, therefore, but his will \nmust measure out its mercies. Nothing ever lay \nso heavy on my heart as the sin and misery of \nmankind, and to think how much of the world \nlies in folly and wickedness. And for what can \nI so heartily pray, as for the world's recovery ? \nAnd it is his will that I should show a holy and \nuniversal love, by praying, \" Let thy name be \nhallowed ; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done \non earth, as it is in heaven.\" Yet, alas ! how un- \nlike is earth to heaven ! What sin and ignorance, \nconfusion and cruelties, reign and prosper here! \nWithout a wonderful change, even by a general \nmiracle, how little hope appears that ever these \nprayers should be answered ? Indeed, it makes \nus better to desire that others may be better ; and \nGod seems to permit the ignorance and confusion \nof this world, to help us the more to value and \n\n\n\n\n\n\nChap. III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. til \n\ndesire the world of light, love, and order. If I \nam any way useful to the world, undeserved mer- \ncy hath made me so, for which I must be thank- \nful; how long I shall be so, is not my business to \ndetermine, but my Lord's. As God will be served \nand pleased by a wonderful variety of animals and \nvegetables, so he will by their successive gene- \nrations. If one flower fall or die, others in future \nsummers shall arise from the same root. God \nwill have other generations to succeed us; let us \nthank him that we have had our time. And could \nwe without selfishness love others as ourselves, \nand God as God, it would comfort us at death to \nhave others survive us, and the world continue, \nand God still be God, and be glorified in his works. \nLove would say, \" I shall live in my successors ; \nI shall more than live in the life of the world; \nand most of all, in the eternal life and glory of \nGod.\" Nor will God try us with too long a life \nof temptations, lest we should grow too familiar \nwhere we should be strangers, and be utterly \nstrangers to our home. No wonder the world was \nready for a deluge, by a deluge of sin, when men \nlived six, seven, eight, or nine hundred years. \nHad our great sensualists any hope of living so \nlong, they would be like incarnate devils ; there \nwould be no dwelling near them for the godly. \nNor will God tire us with too long a life of af- \nflictions. And shall we grudge at the wisdom \nand goodness which shortens them? Though ho- \nly duties be excellent and delightful, yet the weak \n\nQ Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n62 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. II* \n\nness of the flesh makes us liable to weariness, and \nabates the willingness of the spirit. By our wea- \nriness and complaints, our fears and groans, we \nseem to think this life too long; and yet when \nwe should yield to the call of God, we draw back \nas if we would have it to be everlasting. \n\n\" Willingly submit, then, O my soul ! It is not \nthyself, but this flesh, that must be dissolved ; this \ntroublesome, vile, and corruptible flesh. Study \nthy duty, work while it is day, and let God choose \nthy time ; and willingly stand to his disposal. \n\"When I die, the Gospel dies not — the church dies \nnot — the praises of God die not — the world dies \nnot; but perhaps it will grow better, and those \nprayers be answered which seemed to be lost; \nand perhaps some of the seed I have sown will \nspring up when I am dead. If my end was to do \ngood, and glorify God ; when good is done, and \nGod is glorified, though I were annihilated, is not \nmy end attained ?\" \" Lord, let thy servant depart \nin peace,\" even in thy peace, \" which passeth all \nunderstanding,\" and which Christ, the Prince of \npeace, gives, and which nothing in the world can \ntake away ! \" O give me that peace which suits \na soul who is so near the harbor, even the world \nof endless peace and love ! Call home this soul \nby the encouraging voice of love, that it may joy- \nfully hear, and say, It is my Father's voice ! Invite \nit to thee by the heavenly messenger! Attract it \nby the tokens and foretastes of love ! The mes- \nsengers that invited me to the feast of grace, com- \n\n\n\nChap III.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 6& \n\npelled me to come in without constraint; thy ef- \nfectual call made me willing. And is not glory \nbetter than the grace which prepares for it? Shall \nI not more willingly come to- the celestial feast I \nWhat was thy grace for, but to make me desirous \nof glory and the way to it? Why didst thou dart \ndown tby beams of love, but to make me love \nthee, to call me up to- the everlasting centre? \nWas not the feast of grace as a sacrament of the \nfeast of glory? Did I not take it in remembrance \nof my Lord till he come? Did not he that told \nme, ' All things are ready,' tell me also, that 'He \nis gone to prepare a place for us, and that he \nwill have us to be with him and see his glory?' \nThey that are given him, and drawn to him, by \nthe Father on earth, do come to- Christ;., give now r \nand draw my departing soul to my glorified Head I \nAs I have glorified thee on earth in the measure \nof thy grace bestowed upon me,, pardon- the sin^ \nby which I have offended thee, and glorify me in< \nthe vision ami participation of my Redeemer's \nglory! Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, with \nfuller life, and light, and love, into this too dead r \nand dark, and disaffected soul, that with joyful \nwillingness it may come unto thee ! \n\n\" Willingly depart, O lingering soul ! — it is from \na Sodom ; though there be righteous Lots in it* \nthey are not without their sad blemishes. Hast \nthou so often lamented the general blindness and> \nwickedness of the world, and art thou loath to \nkave it for a better? How often wouldest thou \n\n\n\n64 WHAT IT IS TO DEPART, [Chap. Ill \n\nhave rejoiced to see but the dawning of a day of \nuniversal peace and reformation ! And wouldest \nthou not see it, where it shines in perfect beauty? \nHast thou prayed and labored so hard to have the \npleasure of a light at midnight; and is it not thy \ndesire to behold the sun itself? Will the things \nof heaven please thee no where but on earth, \nwhere they are least and weakest? Away, away! \nVindictive flames are ready to consume this sinful \nworld. Sinners are treasuring up wrath against \nthe day of wrath. Look not then behind thee. \nAway from this unhappy world ! * Press toward \nthe mark, looking for and hastening unto the \ncoming of the day of God.' — As this world has \nused thee, so it would still do. When thou hast \nfared best in it, no thanks to it but to God. It \nthou hast had manifold deliverances and preser- \nvations, and hast been fed with angels* food, love \nnot the wilderness, but thy heavenly guide, pro- \ntector, and deliverer. Does God in his great \nmercy make pain and feebleness the harbingers \nof death, and wilt thou not understand their busi- \nness? Wouldest thou dwell with thy beloved bo- \ndy in the grave, where it will rot in loathsome \ndarkness? If not, why should it now, in its pain- \nful languor, seem to thee a more pleasing habita- \ntion than the glorious presence of thy Lord ? In the \ngrave it will be at rest, nor at the night wish, O \nthat it were morning, nor in the morning say \nWhen will it be night? And is this a dwelling \nfit for thy delight? Patience in it, while God will \n\n\n\nChap. HI.J, AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 65 \n\nso try thee, is thy duly : but is such patience a \nbetter and sweeter life than rest and joy?\" \n\nBut, alas! how deaf is flesh to reason! I have \nreason enough to be willing to depart,, e vera mucb \nmore willing than I am. O that I could be as \nwilling a* reason convinces me I ought to be ! \nCould I love God as much as I know I ought to \nlove him, then I should desire to depart and to be \nwith Christ as much as I know I ought to desire \nit. But death must be a penalty,- even where it is \nagain; and therefore it must meet with some \nunwillingness. Because we willingly sinned, we \nmust unwillingly suffer. All the' faith and reasorr \nin the world will not make death to be no penalty, \nand therefore will not take away all unwillingness. \nNo man ever reasoned or believed himself into a \nlove of pain and death, as such. But since the \ngain is- unspeakably greater than the pain and \nloss, therefore faith and holy reason may make \nour willingness greater than our unwillingness, \nAnd our hope and joy than our fear and sorrow. \n\" Come then, my soul, and think believingly what \nis best for thee, (whieh will be the subject of the \nnext chapter,) and wilt thou not love and desire \nthat most which is certainly best 1\" \n\n\n\n6* \n\n\n\n66 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV \n\nCHAPTER IV. \nIVhy it is far better to be icith Christ. \n\nTo say or hear that it is far better to be with \nChrist, is not enough to make us willing. If I \nfirmly believe that it is best for me, I shall then \ndesire it. And have I not reason to believe it? \nLet me seriously consider, for my full conviction \n—by what means I am preparing for this happi- \nness — how this happiness is the end for which I \nam preparing — >and how it will perfect my know- \nledge, will, and activity in doing good. \n\n1. The means by which I dm preparing to be \nwith Christ, abundantly show that it is far better \nto be with him. As for instance, that is best for \npie which my heavenly Father's love designs and \nchooses for my good. I hope I shall never dare \nto say or think that he is mistaken, or that I could \nhave chosen better for myself. Many a time hath \nthe wise and good will of God crossed my foolish \nrebellious will, and afterward I have perceived it \nwas best. It is not an enemy nor a tyrant that \nmade me, preserves me, or calls me hence. The \nmore I have tried him, the better I have found him.' \nHad I better obeyed his ruling will, how happy \nhad I been I And is not his disposing and reward- \ning will as good? Should I not die till myself or \nany of my dearest friends would have it, would \nthis rejoice me? O foolish, sinful! soul, is it not \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] fO BE WiTH CHRIST. 6? \n\nfar better \\o be at God's choice thai: my own or \nany man's \"Be of good cheer thee, O my soul! \nit is thy Father's voice that calls thee hence— -his \nvoice that called thee into being, and out of a state \nof sin and death, and bade thee live unto him — that \ncalled thee so often from the grave, forgave thy \nsins, renewed th) r strength, restored thee to the \ncomforts of his house and service, and hath so \ngraciously led thee through this howling wilder- \nness almost to the si^ht of the promised land. \nAnd wilt thou not willingly go when such infinite \nlove calls thee ? Art thou not desirous of his pre- \nsence ? Art thou afraid to go to him who is the \nonly cure of thy fears ? What was it but this glo- \nry to which he elected thee? — not to the riches \nand honors of this world, or to the pleasures of \nthe flesh, but chose thee in Christ to an inheritance \nin glory? If God chose thee to blessedness, refuse \nit not thyself, nor behave like a refuser.\" That is \nmy best state which my Savior purchased, and \npromised as best. As he bought me not with sil- \nver and gold, so neither did he live and die to \nmake me rich and great in the world. Who have \nmore of these than they that have least of Christ? \nIs it heaven that cost so dear a price as his me- \nrits, sacrifice, and intercession ? Is that the end \nof so wonderful a design of grace, and shall I now \nbe unwilling to receive the gift ? That is best for \nme, for which God's holy Spirit is preparing me* \nHe is not persuading me from day to day to love \nthe world, but to come off from it, and to set my \n\n\n\n08 WRY IT IS PAR BETTER [Chap. IV \n\nheart upon things above. And would I now undo \nall, or cross and frustrate all his operations? Has \ngrace been so long preparing me for glory, and \nshall I be loath to take possession of it? If I am \nnot willing, I am not yet sufficiently prepared. \n\nIf heaven be not better for me than earth, God's \nword and ordinances have been all in vain. Sure- \nly that is my best, which is the gift of the better \ncovenant; which is secured to me by so many \nsealed promises ; to which I am directed by so \nmany sacred precepts, doctrines, and examples ; \nand for which I have been called to hear and read, \nmeditate, watch, and pray. Was it fleshly inte- \nrest or a longer life of worldly prosperity which \nthe gospel covenant secured to me, which the sa- \ncraments and Spirit sealed to me, which the Bible \nwas- written to direct me to, which ministers \npreached to me, which my books were written \nfor, and for which I prayed and served God ? Or \nwas it not for his grace on earth and glory in hea- \nven ? And is it not better for me to have the end \nof these means, than lose them and my hopes? \nWhy havelused them, if I would not attain their \nend? That is my best state to which all God's \nfatherly providences tend. All his sweeter mer- \ncies and sharper corrections are to make me par- \ntaker of his holiness, and lead me to glory in the \nway in which my Savior and all his saints have \ngone before me. All things work together for the \ntoest to me, by preparing me for that which is best \nindeed. Both calms and storms are to bring me \n\n\n\nChap. 1V.J TO BE WITH CHRIST. 09 \n\nto this harbor; if I take them but for themselves \nand for this present life, I mistake them, un thank- \nfally vilify them, and lose their end, life, and \nsweetness. Every word and work of God, every \nday's mercies and changes look at heaven and in- \ntend eternity. God leads me no other way ; if I \nfollow him not, I forsake my hope in forsaking \nhim ; if I follow him, shall I be unwilling to be \nat home and arrive at the end of all this way? \n\nCertainly that is best for me which God requires \nrne principally to value, love, and seek. If my \nbusiness in the world be only for the things of the \nworld, how vain a creature is man, and how little \nis the difference between waking and sleeping, life \nand death ! And is it my duty to seek heaven with \nall the fervor of my soul and diligence of my life, \nand is it not best to find it? — That must needs be \nbest for me, for the sake of which all other things \nmust be forsook. It is folty to forsake the better \nfor the worse ; but Scripture, reason and con- \nscience tell me that all this world should be for- \nsaken for the least hope of heaven, w r hen it comes \nin competition. A possible everlasting glory should \nbe preferred before a certainly perishing vanity. \nI am sure this life will shortly be nothing to me, \nand therefore it is nothing now. And must I for- \nsake all for my everlasting hopes, and yet be un- \nwilling to enter on the full possession ? That is \nlike to be our best which is our most mature state. \nNature is ever tending toward perfection. Every \nfruit is best when it is ripe. And does God cause \n\n\n\n70 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV \n\nsaints to grow to greater ripeness only to be use- \nless? It is not credible. \"Our souls return to \nGod that gave them ;\" and though he needs them \nnot, he puis them to such heavenly uses as their \nmaturity fits them for. Since love has ripened me \nfor itself, shall I not willingly drop into its hand? \nThat is like to be best which has been most es- \nteemed and desired by the wisest and holiest in all \nages, and which all men at death allow to be best. \nNo men are usually worse than those who have no \nbelief or hope of a life to come. And none are \nso holy, just, and sober, so charitable to others, \nand so useful to mankind, as those who firmly be- \nlieve and hope for a state of immortality. And \nshall I fear such a state ? — And is not that my best \nstate which most displeases my greatest enemies ? \nI need not say how much Satan does to keep me \nand other men from heaven ; and in-order to that, \nhow he tempts us with worldly honor, pleasure, \nand wealth. Satan would not have me get to hea- \nven, and shall I also be unwilling? All these things \ntell me that it is best to be with Christ. \n\n2. As the end of all my preparation, it must be \nfar better for me to be with Christ. Is not dwell- \ning with God in glory far better than in this sinful \nworld 1 He that is our beginning is our endi \nFor our end all means are used : and the end at- \ntained is the rest of souls. How often has my \nsoul groaned under a sense of distance, darkness, \nand alienation from God ! How often has it looked \nup and panted: after him, and said, \"As the ban \n\n\n\nChap. IV, J TO BE WITH CHRIST. 71 \n\npanteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul \nafter thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for \nthe living God ; when shall I come and appear \nbefore God? Whom have I in heaven but thee? \nand there is none upon earth that I desire beside \nthee. It is good for me to draw near to God.\" \nWo to me if I dissembled: if not, why should \nmy soul draw back ? Is it because death stands in \nthe way? And is not my passage secured by the \nlove of my Father, and the resurrection and in- \ntercession of my Lord? Can I see the light of \nheavenly glory in this darksome shell and womb \nof flesh ? All creatures are more or less excellent \nand glorious, as God communicates most of him- \nself to them. They are said to be nearest to him \nthat have the noblest natures. Therefore to be as \nnear as my nature was intended to approach, is \nbut to attain the end and perfection of my nature. \nAs I am now under the government of his officers \non earth, so I expect to be in heaven. If the law \nwas given by angels, and the angel of God was \nin the burning bush, and the angel conducted the \npeople through the wilderness, and yet all these \nthings are ascribed to God ; much more near and \nglorious will the divine government be in heaven. \nHere I am made, ruled, and sanctified for the good \nof many, as above my own. I am sure I must be \nfinally for my glorified Redeemer ; and that he \nwho is the first will be the ultimate cause. In this \nrespect I shall be as near to him as comports with \n,the rank and order of my nature.. It is the honor \n\n\n\nTZ WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV | \n\nof a servant to have an honorable master, and to \nbe appointed to the most honorable work. My \nadvancement will be ultimately for God, and in \nsuch services as are suitable to my spiritual and \nheavenly state. Activity will be my perfection \nand my rest. Though now I know not fully what \nservice I must do, I know it will be good, and \nsuitable to the blessed state I shall be in. It is \nnot all the use and work of my soul now to care \nfor my body, nor will it be hereafter. Though I \nshall not always have a body, I shall always have \na God, and a Savior, and a world of fellow-crea- \ntures ; and when I shine not in the lantern, nor see \nas in a glass, 1 shall yet see face to face. To ful- \nfill God's will here would be the fulfilling of my \nown. I am sure my soul shall live, and that it \nshall live to God, and that I shall fulfill his blessed \nwill ; and so far as I am pleased in doing it, it will \nbe my felicity. The soul's regular love to the \nbody illustrates the love of Christ to his church, \nand to every member. Herein my Savior excels \nme in powerful faithful love, He will save me \nbetter from pain and death than I can save my \nbody, and will more, inseparably hold me to him- \nself. If it pleases my soul to dwell in such a \nhouse of clay, how much more will it please my \nglorified Lord to dwell with his glorified body, \nthe church triumphant, and to bless each member \nof it! It would be a kind of death to Christ to \n\\>c separated from his body. And will he take \niiicQiiiparablv greater pleasure in me for ever thai* \n\n\n\nTO BE WITH CHRIST. 73 \n\nw y soul does in my body ? O then let me long to \nbe with him ! Though I am naturally loath to be \nabsent from the body, let rne not be willingly ab- \nsent from the Lord ! And though I would not be \nunclothed, had not sin made it necessary, let me \n\" groan to be clothed upon with my heavenly habi- \nbitation,\" to become the delight of my Redeemer, \nand to be perfectly loved by love itself! The love \nand delight of my glorified Head must be my feli- \ncity. I shall be loved as a living spirit, and not as \na thing dead and insensible. If I must rejoice here \nwith them that rejoice, shall I not rejoice to have \nmy Lord rejoice in me and in all his glorified \nones ? Union will make his pleasure to be much \nmy own. It will fitly be said by him, \" Enter thou \ninto the joy of thy Lord.\" The heavenly society \nalso will joyfully- welcome a holy soul. If now \n\" there is joy in the presence of the angels of God \nover one sinner that repenteth,\" what will there \nbe over a perfect glorified soul? If cur \" angels \" \nthere \" behold our Father's face,\" how glad will \nthey be of our company ! And will not love and \nunion make their joy my own ? Surely that will \nbe my best condition which angels and blessed \nspirits will be best pleased with; and in that in \nwhich they most rejoice, I shall most rejoice \nmyself. \n\n3. It is far better for me to be with Christ, as \nthereby my knowledge will be perfected.' A soul \nthat is with Christ is more likely to know Christ \nand the Father in him, than a soul that is present \n\n'7 \" Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n74 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\nwith the body and absent from the Lord. What \nless can promise of being with him signify ? How \nmuch more excellent will intuitive or immediate \nknowledge be, than our present artificial know- \nledge ? There will be no expensive labor in get- \nting it. It will have no mixture of dark and be- \nwildering uncertainty and ambiguity when it is \nacquired. It will be perfectly free from those \ncontentions which so much rob the ingenious of \ntheir time, destroy their love, hinder their minds \nfrom ascending to God and heavenly things, and \nfill the church with sects and parties. Nor will it \nleave any of that dissatisfaction so common among \nthe learned, while they have only the shadow of \nknowledge, licking but the outside of the glass, \nand leaving the wine within untasted. What an \nexcellency will there be in each of the objects of \nthis immediate knowledge! As for instance, I \nshall know God better. If an angel from heaven \ncame down on earth to tell us all of God that we \nwould know, who would not turn his back on li- \nbraries and universities, to go and discourse with \nsuch a messenger ? For one hour's talk with him \nwhat travel should I think too far, what cost too \ngreat? But here we must only have such intima- \ntions as will exercise faith, excite desire, and try \nus under the temptations of the world and the flesh. \nThe light of glory is to reward the victory ob- \ntained by the conduct of the light of grace. God \nin great mercy even here begins the reward. \nk They that *• follow on to know the Lord ' usually \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHR13T. 75 \n\nfind such increase of light, not consisting in vain \nnotions, but in the quickening and comforting \nknowledge of God, as greatly encourages them, \nand draws them still on to seek more. If the \npleasure the mind has in common knowledge \nmakes men spend successive years in traversing \nsea and land, or in turning over multitudes of te- \ndious volumes; who then upon earth can possibly \nconceive how great a pleasure it will be for a glo- \nrified soul to see the Lord ? All the pleasure I \nshall have in heaven in knowing any of the works \nof God, will be in my beholding God himself, his \nbeing, wisdom, love, and goodness, in those works ; \nlor he is the life and glory of them all. \" Blessed \nare the pure in heart, for they shall see God.\" \nAnd doubtless it will be no small part of my de- \nlight to know the universe better. It is exceed- \ningly pleasant to know the least particle of the \nworks of God. With what diligence and delight \nhave men endeavored to anatomize a body, yea, a \nsmall part of a carcass, for to know and describe \nworms and insects, plants and minerals ! But no \nman ever yet perfectly knew the nature and uses \nof the least of them. If, indeed, we clearly saw \nthe nature and connection of every creature in sea \nor land, what a delightful spectacle would this \nspot of the creation be ! How much more to see \nthe whole creation! And I shall have as much \nof this as I shall be capable of; the wonders of \nGod's works shall raise my soul in admiring joy- \nful praise for ever. We have desires after such \n\n\n\n76 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV \n\nknowledge in our present dark and infant state, \nfor \" the works of the Lord are great, sought ou f \nof all them that have pleasure therein.\" As these \ndesires are of God, as he hath made his works to \nbe known for his glory, and as it is little that is \nknown of them by mortals, therefore they are \nknown by them in heaven, who are fitted to im- \nprove that knowledge to his praise. If Christ, the \nwisdom of God will teach me the true philosophy \nhow to love God and please him in all things here, \nI shall quickly in heaven be a perfect philosopher. \nSatan tempted Christ by \" showing him all the \nkingdoms of the world, and the glory of them,\" \npromising to \" give him all if he would wor- \nship him ;\" but God will show me more than Satan \ncould show, and give me more of that which is best, \nthan Satan could give. \n\nNor will it be the least of my felicity in heaven, \nthat I shall better know Jesus Christ, and all the \nmystery of our redemption by him. O beatifying \nknowledge ! to know him, \" in whom are hid all \nthe treasures of wisdom and knowledge !\" To \nknow the mystery of his eternal Godhead, of his \ncreated nature, and of the union of both, and to \nsee God's wonderful design and gracious work, \nm him, laid open to our clearest view ! Then all \nthe dark texts concerning his person, offices, and \nworks, will be fully understood. All those strange \nand difficult things which were the great exercise \nand honor of faith, will then be plain. Difficulties \nwill no more be Satan's advantage, to tempt us \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 77 \n\nro unbelief or doubiing. The sight of the glory \nof my Lord will be my glory. If now, \" though \nwe see not Christ, yet believing, we love him, and \nrejoice in him with joy unspeakable and full of \nglory;\" what love and joy will the everlasting \nsight of our blessed Head excite there in the souls \nof all the glorified ! I shall better (O how much \nbetter!) \"know the heavenly Jerusalem, the tri- \numphant Church, the blessed angels and glorified \nsaints.\" What a sight, what a joyful sight will \ndeath show me, by drawing aside the vail ! or ra- \nther the Lord of life, by turning death to my ad- \nvantage ! As I now know the several rooms in \nmy house, so shall I then know the \" many man- \nsions \" which, Christ says, \" are in his Father's \nhouse.\" If Nehemiah and the pious Jews rejoiced \nso much at seeing the walls of Jerusalem repaired, \nand others at the rebuilding the temple, O what \na joyful sight shall I have of the heavenly Jeru- \nsalem ! I know that angels now love us, minister \nunto us, rejoice in our good, and are themselves \nfar more holy and excellent creatures than we \nare; it is therefore my comfort to think that I \nshall better know them, and live in near and per- \npetual acquaintance and communion with them, \nand bear my part in the same choir in which they \npreside. And when I think how sweet one wise \nand holy companion has been to me here on earth, \nand how lovely his graces have appeared ; what \na sight will it be, when we shall see the millions \nof •' the spirits of just men made perfect,\" shining \nd 7* \n\n\n\n\"8 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER (Chap. IV. \n\nwith Christ in perfect wisdom and hoHness ! It \nthis world was full of wise, just, and holy persons, \nhow lovely would it be! If one kingdom consist- \ned of such, it would make us loath ,to die and \nleave such a country, were it not that the more \nthe beauty of goodness appears, the more the per- \nfection of it is desired It is pleasant to me to \npray in hope that earth may be made more like \nheaven, which is now become so like hell : but \nwhen I shall see the society perfected in number, \nholiness, and glory, employed in the high and \njoyful praises of Jehovah, — the glory of God and \nthe Lamb shining on them, and God rejoicing \nover them as his delight, and myself partaking of \nthe same — that will be the truly blessed day. And \nwhy does my soul, imprisoned in flesh, no more \ndesire it? — I shall better understand all the word \nof God. Though I shall not have the use for it I \nnow have in this life of faith, yet I shall see more \nof God's wisdom and goodness, love, mercy, and \njustice appearing in it, than ever man on earth \ncould do. As the creatures, so the Scriptures \nare perfectly known only by perfect spirits. I \nshall then know how to solve all doubts, reconcile \nall seeming contradictions, and expound the hard- \nest prophecies. That light will show me the ad- \nmirable method of those sacred words where dark \nminds now suspect confusion. How joyfully shall I \nthen praise my God and Savior for giving his church \nso clear a light to guide them through this dark- \nsome wilderness, and so sure a promise to sup \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 79 \n\nport them till they are come to life eternal ! How \njoyfully shall I bless him, who, by that immortal \nseed, regenerated me to the hope of glory, and \nruled me by so holy and just a law ! \n\nIn that world of light I shall better understand \nGod's works of providence. The wisdom and \ngood of them is little understood in small par- \ncels. It is the union and harmony of all the parts \nwhich displays the beauty of them. And no one \ncan see the whole together but God, and they that \nsee it in the light of his celestial glory. Then I \nshall clearly know why God prospered the wicked, \nand so much afflicted the righteous ; why he set \nup the ungodly, and put the humble under their \nfeet ; why he permitted so much ignorance, pride, \nlust, oppression, persecution, falsehood, and other \nsins in the world ; why the faithful are so few , \nand why so many kingdoms of the world are left \nin heathenism, Mahometanism, and infidelity. I \nshall know why I suffered what I did, and how \nmany great deliverances I had, and how they were \naccomplished. All our misinterpretations of Cod's \nworks and permissions will then be rectified, and \nall our controversies about them be at an end. \nAmong all these works I shall especially know \nmore of the nature and excellency of God's mer- \ncies. The lively sense of love and mercy makes \nlively Christians abound in love to God, and in \nmercy to others ; but the enemy of God and man \nlabors to obscure and diminish our views of di- \nmwo love and mercy. Ingratitude is great misery, \n\n\n\n80 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER. [Chap. IV. \n\nas gratitude is true pleasure. \"We now receive \nthousands of mercies which we undervalue. But \nwhen I come to the state and work of perfect gra- \ntitude, I shall perfectly know all the mercies ever \nreceived by myself, by my neighbors and friends, \nby the church, and the world. Mercies rernem- \nbered must be the matter of our everlasting thanks, \nand we cannot be perfectly thankful for them \nwithout a perfect knowledge of them. The worth \nof Christ and all his grace of the Gospel, and of \nall divine ordinances and church privileges, of our \nbooks and our friends, our health, and all the con- \nveniences of our lives, will be better understood \nin heaven than the most holy and thankful Chris- \ntian ever understood them here. Then shall I be \nmuch better acquainted with myself. I shall know \nthe nature of souls and the way of their operations, \nand how the Spirit of God works upon them, and \nhow that Spirit is sent from Christ to work upon \nthem. I shall know what measure of grace I my- \nself had, and how far I was mistaken concerning \nit. I shall know more of the number and great- \nness of my sins, and of my obligation to pardon- \ning and healing grace. Yes, I shall know more \nof my body as the habitation of my soul, and how \nfar it helped or hindered me, and what were all \nits diseases, and how wonderfully God supported, \npreserved, and often delivered me. I shall also \nfar better know my fellow creatures. The good \nand bad, the sincere and hypocrites, will there be \ndiscerned. Actions that were here thought hon- \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. SI \n\norable, will then be found to be odious and unjust: \nand wickedness will no more be flattered or ex- \ntenuated. Many a good and holy work which \nwas reproached as criminal, will there be justified, \nhonored and rewarded. Once more, I shall bet- \nter know from what enemies, sins and dangers I \nwas here delivered; what stratagems of Satan, and \nhis instruments God defeated; how many snares \nI escaped; and how great is my deliverance by \nChrist from the wrath to come. All this know- \nledge will thus be advanced to my glorified soul, \nbeyond my present conceptions ; and is it not there- \nfore far better to be with Christ? \n\n4. It is far better for me to be with Christ, for \nthe sake of having my will perfected. The will \nis to the soul what the heart is to the body. My \ngreatest evil is there, and there will be my greatest \ngood. Satan did most against it, and God will \ndo most for it. When I am with Christ my will \nno more will be tied to a body, which is now the \ngrand snare and enemy of my soul, by drawing my \nlove and care, my fears and sorrows, to itself, and \nturning them from my highest interest. There \nmy will shall not be tempted by a world of infe- \nrior good ! nor shall meat and sleep, possessions \nand friends, be my snares and dangers ; nor shall \nthe mercies of God be the tempter's instruments ; \nnor shall I have the flatteries or frowns of tyrants ; \nnor will bad company infect or divert me ; nor the \nerrors of good men seduce me ; nor the reputation \nof the wise and learned draw me to imitate them \n\n\n\n82 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER Chap. IV.j \n\nin any sin. There will be none of Satan's solici- \ntations to pervert my will. \n\nMy will shall there be better than here, as it \nshall have nothing- in it displeasing to God — no \nsinful inclination, no striving against God's Spirit, \nno grudging at any word or work of God, nor \nany principle of enmity or rebellion left. There \nit shall have no inclination to injure my neighbor, \nor to do any thing against the common good ; and \nthere it shall have nothing in it opposite to itself; \nno more \" law of my members warring against \nthe law of my mind;\" no more contrariety be- \ntween sense and reason ; but all will be unity and \npeace within. \n\nThere Christ will have perfectly sanctified my \nwill, and made it conformable to his own, and to \nhis Father's will. This is at least his meaning, \nwhen he prays, \" that all his disciples may be \none, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, \nthat they also may be one in us, that they may \nbe one, even as we are one.\" I shall love and will \nthe same that God loves and wills. And how can \nthe will of man have greater honor ? Assimilation \nto an earthly king is honorable ; but much more to \nangels ; but most of all to be like God. Indeed, \nhere the divine image in us, is, in its degrees, a con- \nformity to the will of God. But, alas, how many \nthousand wishes and desires have we had which \nare against the will of God ! We shall have the \nfull impression of God's will in heaven, as face \nanswers to face in a glass, or the wax to the seal, \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 83 \n\nor the finger of the clock to the motion within, \nor as the echo to the voice. I shall desire and \nnever be disappointed. I shall have as much love \nand joy as I wish. Before I desire any thing, I \nshall know whether it be God's will or not, and \ntherefore shall never wish any thing that shall \nuot be accomplished. Yea, my will shall be my \nenjoyment ; for it shall not be the desire of what \nI want, but a complacency in what I possess. I \nshall want nothing. I shall thirst no more. Rightly \nis the will itself called love. My will shall be full \nof perfect joy, when enjoying love and pleasure \nwill be my will. Thus shall I have within myself \na spring of living waters. My will shall be con- \nfirmed and fixed in this conformity to the will of \nGod. Nc*.v, b^th understanding and will are so \nlamentably mutable, that, farther than God pro- \nmises to uphold us, we know not one day what \nwe shall think, judge, or will the next. But when \nlove becomes our fixed nature, we shall be no \nmore weary of loving, than the sun of shining. \nGod himself will be the full and everlasting object \nof my love. Perfect joyful complacency in God \nis the heaven which I desire and hope for. In \nGod there is all that love can desire for its full \neverlasting feast. The nature of man's will is to \nlove good, as good. God, who is infinitely good \nin himself, will be that most suitable good to me. \nHe has all in himself that I need or can desire. \nThere is nothing for love to cleave to, either \nabove him, beyond him, or without him. He is \n\n\n\n84 WHY IT IS FAR BETTEH. [Chop. IV. \n\nwilling to be beloved by me. He disdains not my \nlove. He might have refused such affections as \nhave so often embraced vanity and filth. But \nhe commands my love, and makes it my greatest \nduty. He invites and entreats me, as if he were \na gainer by my happiness. He seeks to me to \nseek to him, and is both the first and most earnest \nsuitor. He that so valued my cold imperfect love \nto him on earth, will not reject my perfect love \nin heaven. And he is near to me, not a distant \nGod out of my reach, nor unsuitable to my love. \nBlind unbelievers may dream that he is far off; \nbut even now he is as nigh to us as we are to \nourselves. When he would sanctify us to love \nhim, he brings us nigh to himself in Christ. Here \nwe see him in his works and word ; and there we \nshall see him in all the perfect glory of his works, \nand shall delightfully love that glorious perfection \nof the universe, even the image of God in all the \nworld. I shall especially love the holy society, \nthe triumphant universal church, consisting of \nChrist, angels, and saints. God himself loves \nthem more than his inferior works, and my love, \naccording to its measure, will imitate his. \n\n\" Think here, O my soul, how sweet thy con- \ndition will be, to love the Lord Jesus, thy glorified \nhead, with perfect love ! When the glory of God, \nwhich shines in him, will feast thy love with full \nand everlasting pleasure ! The highest created \nperfection of power, wisdom, and goodness, re- \nfulgent in him, will not permit thy love to cease \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CBRIST. 85 \n\nor abate its fervor. When thou shalt see in the \nglorified church the precious fruits of Christ's re- \ndeeming grace and love; and when thou shalt see \nihyself possest of perfect happiness by his love \n5.0 thee, and shalt remember what he did for thee, \nand in thee, here on earth ; how he ' called thee \nwith a holy calling;' how he 'washed thee in \nhis blood from all thy sins ;' how he kindled in \nihee desires after glory ; how he renewed thy na- \nture ; how he instructed, guided, and preserved \nthee from sins, enemies and sufferings ; all this \nwill constrain thee everlastingly to love him. \nThink, also, O my soul, how delightful it will be \n*o love those angels who most fervently love- the \nLord ! They will be lovely to thee, as they have \nloved thee; and more as they have been lovei \nof the church and of mankind ; but far more a \nthey are so many refulgent stars which continu \nally move, and shine, and burn, in perfect love tc \ntheir Creator. O blessed difference between tha* \namiable society and this dark, distracted, wicked \nworld ! There I shall see or hear no evil, no mix- \nture of folly or pollution ; no false doctrine ; no \nbad example; no favoring wickedness; no ac- \ncusing goodness, nor hurtful violence; but holy \npowerful, active love will be all, and do all, as \ntheir very nature, life, and work. And is not a \nday with them better than a thousand here ? And \nwith holy angels I shall also love holy souls that \nare made like them, and joined w r ith them in the \nsame society. All their infirmities are there put \n\ng Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n86 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\noff, and they also are spirits made up of holy life, \nand light, and love. When I think with what \nfervent love to God, to Jesus Christ, and to one \nanother, they will be perfectly united there, grieve \nand blush, my soul, that they should be here \nso disaffected and divided. The imperfect image \nof God upon them is amiable, but through their \nremaining pride, error, and uncharitableness, it is \nhard to live with some of them in peace. O how \ndelightful will that communion of saints be where \nperfect love shall make them one ! Forget not, \nmy soul, how sweet God has made the course of \nmy pilgrimage by the fragrance and usefulness of \nhis servants' graces ! How sweet have my bosom \nfriends been ! How sweet the neighborhood of \nthe godly ! How sweet their holy assemblies, \ntheir writings, conference, and prayers ! What \nthen will it be to live in perfect love with perfect \nsaints in heaven for ever, and with them perfectly \nto love the God of love !\" \n\nAs the act and object of love will constitute my \nfuture felicity, I shall not be the fountain of my \nown delights, but my receiving from the love of \nGod and his creatures shall be sweeteT to me than \nmy own activity. All love is communicative, but \nnone compared with God's. Whatever good is \ndone in the world it is done by love. Therefore \nparents care and provide for children. Therefore \nmy house and table are not neglected, nor my \nbooks and learning forgot, nor my friends des- \npised, nor my life itself thrown away. If a man \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 87 \n\nlove not his country, posterity, and the common \ngood, he will be as a drone in the hive. And if \ncreated love be so necessary, so active and com- \nmunicative, much more will be the infinite love of \nthe Creator. His love is now the life of nature \nin the living, the life of holiness in the saints, and \nthe life of glory in them that are glorified. In \nthis love I and all the saints shall dwell for ever- \nmore. And if I dwell in love, and love in me, \nsurely I shall \" ever drink of the rivers of plea- \nsure.\" Had I a great, wise, and good friend, that \ndid for me the hundredth part of what God does, \nhow dearly should I love him! \"Think then, \nthink believingly, seriously, constantly, O my \nsoul, what a life thou shalt live for ever in the pre- \nsence and bosom of infinite eternal Love ! He now \nshineth on me by the sun, and on my soul by the \nSun of righteousness, but it is as through the cre- \nvices of my darksome habitation ; but then he will \nshine on me, and in me, openly, and with the full- \nest streams and beams of love.\" God is the same \nGod in heaven as on earth, but I shall not be the \nsame man. Here the windows of my soul are not \nopen to his light ; sin has raised clouds, and con- \nsequently storms, against my comforts. The en- \ntrances to my soul by the straits of flesh and sense \nare narrow, and they are made narrower by sin \nthan they were by nature. Alas, how often would \nLove have spoken comfortably to me, and I was \nnot at home to be spoken with, but abroad among \na world of vanities ; or was not at leisure, or was \n\n\n\n88 WHY IT 13 FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\nasleep, and not willing to be awaked ! How of- \nten would Love have come in and dwelt with me, \nand I have unkindly shut him out ! How often \nwould he have freely entertained me in secret, but \nI had some trifling company or business that I \nwas loath to leave! When his table has been \nspread for me, and Christ, grace, and glory offered \nto me, how has my appetite been gone, or dull ! \nHe would have been all to me, if I would have \nbeen all for him. But in heaven I shall have none \nof those obstructions. All old unkindness and in- \ngratitude will be forgiven. I shall then be wholly \nseparated from the vanity which here deceived me. \nI shall joyfully behold the open face and attend \nthe charming voice of glorifying Love, and de- \nlightfully relish his celestial provisions. No \ndisease will corrupt my appetite. No sluggishness \nwill renew my guilty neglects. \" The iove of \nthe Father, the grace of the Son, and the com- \nmunion of the Holy Spirit\" will triumph over \nall my folly, deadness, and disaffection ; and my \nGod-displeasing and self-undoing averseness and \nenmity will be gone for ever. \" Study this hea- \nvenly work of love, O my soul ! These are not \ndead or barren studies. It is only love that can \nrelish love and understand it. Here the will has \nits taste. What can poor carnal worldlings know \nof glorious love, who study it without love? What \nsounding brass or tinkling cymbals are they that \npreach of God, and Christ, and heavenly glory, \nwithout love ! But gazing on the face of love in \n\n\n\nChap. IV. I TO BE WITH CHRIST. 89 \n\nChrist, tasting its gifts, contemplating its glorious \nreign, is the way to kindle the sacred fife in \nthee. The burning-glass must be turned directly \nto the sun, in order to its setting any thing on \nfire. A holy love, like that in heaven, must be \nstudiously fetched from heaven, and be kindled \nby the foresight of what is there, and what we \nshall be there for ever. Faith must ascend and \nlook within the vail. Thou, my soul, must not live \na stranger to thy home and hopes, to thy God \nand Savior. The fire that must warm thee is in \nheaven, and thou must come near it, and open \nthyself to its influence, if thou wilt feel its pow- \nerful efficacy. It is night and winter with carnal \nminds, when it is day and summer with those \nthat set their faces heavenward.\" \n\nBut in heaven God will make use of second \ncauses even in communicating his love and glory. \nThere the Lord Jesus Christ will not only be the \nobject of our delightful love, but his love to us \nwill be as the vital heat and motion of the heart \nto all the members, the root of our life and joy. \nDid his tears for a dead Lazarus make men say, \n11 Behold how he loved him !\" What then will the \nreviving beams of heavenly life make us say of \nthat love which fills us with the pleasures of his \npresence, and turns our souls into joy itself? \n\" Believe, O my soul, thy Savior's love, that thou \nmayest have a foretaste of it, and be fit for com- \nplete enjoyment. Let thy believing be so much \nof thy daily work, that thou mayest say, \"he dwells \n\n\n\n90 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\nin thy heart by faiih,\" and \"lives in thee,\" and \nthat thy \" life in the flesh \" is not a fleshly ] ife f \nbut '' by the faith of the Son of God, who loved \nthee, and gave himself for thee.\" Look upon the \nsun, and think with thyself how its motion, light \nand heat are communicated to millions of crea- \ntures all over the earth and in the seas. What if \nall these beams of light and heat were proportion- \nable beams of perfect knowledge, love and joy ! If \nall the creatures under the sun received from it as \nmuch wisdom, love and joy, as they have of light, \nheat and motion, what a blessed worid would it \nbe, even a heaven upon earth ! Thus will the \nSun of glory send forth life, light, and joyful love \non all the heavenly inhabitants. Therefore now \nbegin to live upon the influence of his grace, that \nthou mayest have his name and mark. He has \nnot bid me seek his grace in vain. He more than \nbids me seek and ask. He teaches me to pray \nHe makes my prayers, and writes them on my \nheart. He gives me desires, and he loves to have \nme importunate with him, and is displeased with \nme that I will ask and have no more. How then \ncomes my soul to be yet so fond of this wretched \nflesh and world, and so backward to go home and \ndwell with Christ? Alas! a taste of heaven on \nearth is too precious to be cast away upon such as \nhave long grieved and quenched the Spirit, and \nare not, by diligent and patient seeking, prepared \nto receive it. My conscience remembers the fol- \nlies of my youth, and many a later odious sin, and \n\n\n\nChap. I V.J TO EE WITH CHRIST. 91 \n\ntells me, that if heaven were quite hid from my \nsight, and I should never have a glimpse of the \nface of glorious eternal Love, it would be just. 1 \nlook upward from day to day, and, better to know \nmy God and my home, I cry to him daily, \" My \nGod, my hopes are better than all the possessions \nof this world ; far better than all the pleasures ot \nsin ! Thy gracious looks have often revived me, \nand thy mercies have been unmeasurable to my \nsoul and body. But O how far am I short of \nwhat, even forty years ago, I hoped sooner to have \nattained ! Where is \" the peace that passeth all \nunderstanding,\" which should keep my heart and \nmind \" through Christ Jesus ?\" Where is the see- \ning, longing, and rejoicing faith? Where is that \npleasant familiarity with Christ in heaven, that \nwould make a thought of them sweeter than the \nthoughts of friends, health, or all the prosperity \nand pleasure of this world ? Do those that \" dwell \nin God, and God in them,\" and have their \" hearts \nand conversations in heaven,\" attain no more \nclear and satisfactory perceptions of that blessed \nstate than I have yet attained ? Is there no live- \nlier sense of future joys % No sweeter foretaste ? \nnor fuller silencing of doubts and fears? Alas! \nhow many of thy servants are less afraid to go to \na prison than to their God.; and had rather be ban- \nished to a land of strangers, than sent to heaven! \nMust I, that am called thy child, and an heir of \nlieaveo, and a co-heir with Christ, have no more \na^fpiaintan-ce with my glorified Lord, and no more \n\n\n\n92 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap IV \n\nlove to thee, who art my portion, before 1 go \nhence? Shall I have no more of the heavenly \nlife, and light, and love? Alas! I have scarce \nenough in my meditations, or prayers, or sermons, \nto denominate them heavenly. And must I go \nhence, so like a stranger, to my home? Wilt \nthou take strangers into heaven, and know them \nthere as thine, who know thee no better here? \nO my God, vouchsafe a sinner yet more of the \nSpirit of thy Son, who came to earth to call up \nearthly minds to God, and to open heaven to all \nbelievers! What do I beg so frequently, so ear- \nnestly, for the sake of my Redeemer, as the Spi- \nrit of life and consolation, to show me the recon- \nciled face of God, and unite all my affections to \nmy glorified Head, and draw up this dark drowsy \nsoul to love, and long to be with thee ?\" \n/ Alas ! though those are my daily groans, how \nlittle do I ascend ! I dare not blame the God of \nlove, nor my blessed Savior, nor the Sanctifier and \nComforter of souls. Undoubtedly the cause is \nmy sinful resistance of the Spirit, my unthankful \nneglects of grace and glory. But mercy can for- \ngive; grace can overcome; and may I not hope \nfor such a victory before I die ? \" Lord, I will lie \nat thy doors and pour out my complaints before \nthee! Thou hast told us how kindly the dogs \nlicked the sores of a Lazarus that lay at a rich \nman's gate; thou hast commended the good Sa- \nmaritan for taking care of a wounded man; thou \nsayest, \" Blessed are the merciful ;\" thou com- \n\n\n\nChap. IV.j TO BE WITH CHRIST. 93 \n\nmandest us, \" Be merciful, as your heavenly Father \nis merciful ;\" and shall I wait at thy doors in vain 1 \nGive me the wedding garment, without which I \nshall but dishonor thy feast. Thou hast command- \ned me to rejoice, and how fain would I in thia \nobey thee ! O that I had more faithfully obeyed \nthee in ruling my senses, my thoughts, my tongue, \nand in the diligent improvement of all my talents ; \nthen I might more easily have rejoiced. Lord, \nhelp my love and joy ! How can I rejoice in death \nand darkness ? I hoped I was long since \" transla- \nted from the kingdom of darkness, and delivered \nfrom the power of the prince of darkness, and \nbrought into that light which is the entrance of \nthe inheritance of saints ; and yet, alas ! darkness \nis still my misery. There is light round about me \nin thy word and works, but darkness is within me. \nAnd if my eye be dark, the sun will be no sun to \nme. What is my unbelief but the darkness of \nmy soul? Lord Jesus, scatter all these mists! O \nthou Sun of righteousness, make thy way into \nthis benighted mind. O send thy advocate to si- \nlence every temptation against thy truth and thee, \nto prosecute thy cause against thy enemies and \nmine, and to witness my sonship and salvation ! \nI know, my Lord, heaven is not far from me. no, \nnot a day nor an hour's journey to a separate soul. \nHow quick is the communion of my eyes with the \ndistant sun ! And couldestthou not show me hea- \nven in a moment? Is not faith a seeing grace ? If, \nanimated by thee, it can see the invisible God in \n\n\n\n94 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\nthe unseen world, the \" New Jerusalem, the innu- \nmerable company of angels, and the spirits of just \nmen made perfect; without thee, it can do no- \nthing,\" and is nothing. Forgive all my sins, and \nremove this film that sin hath gathered, and my \nenlightened soul will see thy glory ! I know this \nvail of flesh must also be rent before I shall see \nthee with open face, and know my fellow-citizens \nabove, as I am known. It is not heaven on earth \nI am asking, but that I may see it from mount Ne- \nbo, and have the pledge and the first fruits! and \nthat my faith and hope may kindle love and desire, \nand make me run my race with patience, and live \nand die in the joy which becomes an heir of hea- \nven ! But if my faith on earth must not increase, \nlet it make me the more weary of this dungeon, \nand more fervently wish for the day when all my \ndesires shall be satisfied, and my soul be filled \nwith thy light and love !\" \n\nAnd in subordination to Christ I shall also be a \nreceiver in heaven from angels and saints. If an- \ngels are greatly useful to me here, much more will \nthey be there, where I shall be more capable of \nreceiving from them. It will be no more diminu- \ntion to the honor of Christ to make use of my \nfellow-creatures to my joy there than it was here. \nHow gloriously will God shine in the glory of the \nblessed ! how delightful will it be to see their per- \nfection in wisdom, holiness, and love ! They will \nlove incomparably better than our dearest friends \non earth can, who can only pity us in our pains, \n\n\n\nChap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. &5 \n\nand go weeping with our corpses to the grave ; \nbut the friends above will joyfully convoy or wel- \ncome our souls to their triumphant society. What \na glorious state will it be, when all the love of an- \ngels and saints in full perfection shall be so united \nas to make one love to one God, and to each other, \nas made one in Christ ! We little know how great \na mercy it is here, to be commanded to love our \nneighbors as ourselves ; and much more to be ef- \nfectually taught of God to love one another. Did \nwe all live in such unfeigned love, earth would re- \nsemble heaven. \" Go, then, go willingly, O my \nsoul ! love joins with light to draw up thy desires. \nArt thou a lover of wisdom, holiness, and love, \nand wouldest thou not be united to the wise and \nholy, who are made up of love? Art thou a hater \nof discords and divisions on earth, and wouldest \nthou not be where all the just are one ? Is not \nthy body, while kept together by an uniting soul, \nin a better state than when it is to be crumbled \ninto lifeless dust? and does not death creep on \nthee by a gradual dissolution? Away, then, from \nthis incoherent state ! The farther from the centre, \nthe farther from unity. It is now thy weakness \nand imperfection which makes thee so desirous \nthat thy house, thy land, thy clothes, thy books, \nyea, thy knowledge and grace, should be thine, \nand thine only. How much more excellent if thou \ncouldest say that all these, like the light of the \nsun, are mine, and every one's as well as mine ! \nIn heaven, thy knowledge, thy glory and felicity \n\n\n\n96 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. I V | \n\nshall be thine, and other's as well as thine. The \nknowledge, goodness and glory of all that perfect I \nsociety shall be thine as far as thy capacity ex- | \ntends. Then hasten upward, O my soul, with thy \nmost fervent desires, and breathe after that state \nwith thy strongest hopes, where thou shalt not be \nrich and see thy neighbors poor ; nor be poor \nwhile they are rich; nor be well while they are \nsick; nor sick while they are well !\" Communion, \nas it constitutes the very being of the city of God, \nwill be part of every one's felicity, and none will \nhave the less for the participation of the rest. This \ncelestial communion of saints in one holy church, \nabove what is here attainable, is now an article of \nour belief ; but believing will soon end in seeing \nand enjoying. \n\n5. It is also far better for me to be with Christ, \nthat I may have a perfect activity in doing good. \nThere are good works in heaven, and far more \nand better than on earth. There will be more life \nand power for action ; more love to God and one \nanother, to excite to action ; more likeness to God \nand Christ in doing good, as well as being good ; \nmore union with the beneficent Jesus, to make us \nalso beneficent ; and more communion, by each \ncontributing to the welfare of the whole, and shar- \ning in their common returns to God. What the \nheavenly works are we must perfectly know when \nwe come thither. \" We shall join with the whole \nsociety,\" as the Scriptures particularly describe, \nM in giving thanks and praise to God and our Re- \n\n\n\nCfaap. IV.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 97 \n\ndeemer.\" All passions earnestly desire to be free \nly exercised, especially our holy affections of love, \njoy, and admiration of Almighty God. In express- \ning such affections, we naturally desire communion \nwith many. Methinks, when we are singing the \npraises of God in great assemblies with joyful and \nfervent spirits, I have the liveliest foretaste of hea- \nven upon earth, and could almost wish that our \nvoices were loud enough to reach through all the \nworld, and to heaven itself. Nor could I ever be \noffended with the sober and seasonable use of in- \nstrumental music to help to tune my soul in so \nholy a work. Nothing comforts me more in my \ngreatest sufferings, nor seems more fit for me while \nI wait for death, than singing psalms of praise to \nGod, nor is there any exercise in which I had ra- \nther end my life. Should I not then willingly go \nto the heavenly choir, where God is praised with \nperfect love, and joy, and harmony 1 Had I more o'. \na praising frame, of soul I should long no more for \nthat life of praise. I never find myself more will • \ning to be there than when I most joyfully speak \nor sing the praises of God. Though the \"deac. \npraise not God in the grave, nor dust celebrate \nhim ;\" yet living souls in heaven do it joyfully, \nwhile their fleshly clothing turns to dust. \" Lord, \ntune my soul to thy praises now, that sweet expe- \nrience may make me long to be where I shall do \nit better ! Wherever there is any excellent music, \nI see men naturally flock to it and hear it with \ndelight Surely: had I once heard the heavenly \n\nq Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n98 WHY IT IS FAR BETTER [Chap. IV. \n\nchoir, I should echo to their holy songs, and think \nft the truest blessedness to bear my part. My God, \nit is the inward melody of thy Spirit, and my own \nconscience, that must tune me for the heavenly \nmelody. O speak thy love first to my heart, and \nthen I shall joyfully speak it to others, and shall \nardently seek after communion better than that of \nsinful mortals ! Though my sins make a sad dis- \ncord in my present songs, I hope my sighs and \ntears for sin have had the honor of thine accep- \ntance, who despiseth not a contrite soul. But if \nthy Spirit will sing and speak within me, and help \nme against the jarring murmur of my unbeliev- \ning heart and pained flesh, I shall then offer \nthee what is more suitable to thy love and grace. I \nconfess, Lord, that daily tears and sighs are not un- \nsuitable to the eyes and voice of so great a sinner, \nnow under thy correcting rod. But 'he that offer- \neth praise glorifies thee;' and is not this the 'spirit- \nual sacrifice, acceptable through Christ, for which \nwe are made priests to God V I refuse not, Lord, \nto lie in tears and groans when thou requirest it, nor \ndo thou reject those tears and groans; but, O give \nme better, that I may have better of thine own to \noffer thee, and so prepare me for the far better which \nI shall find with Christ!\" \n\nProbably God makes glorified spirits the agents \nof his beneficence to inferior creatures. Where he \nbestows on any the noblest endowments, we see he \nmakes most use of such for the benefit of others. \nChrist tells us we shall be like, or equal to the an- \n\n\n\nChap. V.] TO BE WITH CHRIST. 99 \n\ngels, who are evidently the ministers of God for the \ngood of his people in this world. The apostle \nsays, \" the saints shall judge the world\" and 'an- \ngels ;\" intimating that devils and damned spirits \nshall be subjected to the saints. But if there were \nno more for us to do in heaven, but with perfect \nknowledge, love, and joy to hold communion with \nGod and all the heavenly society, it is enough to \nexcite, in a considerate soul, the most fervent de- \nsires to be at home with God. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\n\n\nThe author breathes after willingness to depart and \nto be with Christ. \n\nI am convinced that it is far better to depart and \nto be with Christ, than to be here. But this con- \nviction alone will not excite such desires in my \nsoul. They are opposed by a natural aversion to \ndeath, which sin has greatly increased ; by the re- \nmains of unbelief, which avails itself of our dark- \nness in the flesh and our too great familiarity with \nthis visible world ; and also by the want of our \nmore lively foretaste of heaven. What must be \ndone to overcome this opposition'? Is there no \nremedy? Yes, there is a divine teaching, by which \nwe must learn \"so to number our days, that we \nmay apply our hearts unto wisdom.\" When we \n\n\n\n100 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. \n\nhave read and heard, spoken and written the \nsoundest truth and strongest arguments, we still \nknow as if we knew not, and believe as if we be- \nlieved not, unless God powerfully impresses the \nsame things on our minds, and awakens our souls \nto feel what w T e know. Since we fell from God, \nthe communion between our senses and under- \nstanding, and also between our understanding and \nour will and affections, is violated, and we are di- \nvided in ourselves by this schism in our faculties. \nAll men may easily know that there is an almigh- \nty, omniscient, omnipresent, eternal, and perfectly \nholy and good God, the maker, preserver, and go- \nvernor of all, who deserves our whole trust, love, \nand obedience; but how little of this knowledge is \nto be perceived in men's hearts or lives ! All \nmen know that the world is vanity, that man must \ndie, that riches cannot then profit, that time is pre- \ncious, and that we have but little time to prepare \nfor eternity ; but how little do men seem to have \nof the real knowledge of these plain truths ! In- \ndeed, when God comes in with his powerful awak- \nening light and love, then those things appear \nas different as if we were beginning to know \nthem. All my best reasons for our immortality \nare but as the new-formed body of Adam before \n\" God breathed into him the breath of life :\" and \nhe only can make them living reasons. To the \nFather of lights I must therefore still look up, \nand for his light and love I must still wait. I must \nlearn both as a student and a beggar. When I \n\n\n\nChap. V] AND TO BE WITH CHRTST. 101 \n\nhave nought and thought a thousand times, I must \nbeg thy blessing, Lord, upon my thoughts. The \neye of my understanding will be useless or vexa- \ntiois to me without thy illuminating beams. O \nshine the soul of thy servant into a clearer know- \nledge of thyself and kingdom, and love him into \nmore divine and heavenly love, and he wili then \nwillingly come to thee! \n\nWhy should I, by the fears of death, strive \nagainst the common course of nature, and against \nmy only hopes of happiness? Is it not \"appoint- \ned unto men once to die?\" Would 1 have God \nmake sinful man immortal upon earth? When we \nare sinless, we shall be immortal. The love of life \nwas given to teach me to preserve it with care and \nuse it well, and not to torment myself with the con- \ntinual foresight of death. If it be the misery after \ndeath that is feared, what have I to do but to re- \nceive the free reconciling grace which is ojFered \nme from heaven to save me from such misery, \nand to devote myself totally to him who has pro- \nmised, \" Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise \ncast out?''' Had I studied my duty, and remem- \nbered that I am not my own, and that my times \nare in God's hands, I had been quiet from these \nfruitless fears. Had my resignation and devoted- \nness to God been more absolute, my trust in hirn \nw r ould have been more easy. \"But, Lord, thou \nknowest that I would fain be thine, and wholly \nthine, and that to thee I desire to live: therefore \nlet me wholly trust thee with my soul.\" \n\nD 0* \n\n\n\n102 willi?:gness to depart, (_Chap. V. \n\nWhy should I have any remaining doubt of the \nfuture state of pious separate spirits 1 My Savior \nhas entered into the holiest, and has assured me \nthat \"there are many mansions in his Father's \nhouse,\" and that when we are \"absent from the \nbody,\" we shall be \" present with the Lord.\" \nWho can think that all holy souls that have gone \nhence from the beginning of the world, have been \ndeceived in their faith and hope ? and that all \nthose whose hope was only in this life have been \nin the right? Shall I not abhor every suggestion \nthat contains such absurdities? Wonderful, that \nSatan can keep up so much unbelief in the world, \nwhile he must make men fools in order to make \nthem unbelievers and ungodly ! \n\nThat my soul has no more lively foretastes of \nheaven, arises from those many willful sins by \nwhich I have quenched the Spirit, and from the \nsoul'^ imprisonment in the flesh. This, O this is \nthe misery and burden of my soul ! Though I \ncan say, I love God's truth and grace, his work \nand servants; yet that I have no more ardent and \ndelightful love of heaven, where his loveliness will \nbe more fully opened to my soul, is my sin, cala- \nmity, and shame. If I did not see that it is so with \nother of the servants of Christ as well as myself, \nI should doubt whether affections so dispropor- \ntionate to my profession did not imply an unsound \nfaith. It is strange that one who expects quickly \nto see the glorious world, and enter the holy celes- \ntial society, should not be more joyfully affected \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 103 \n\nwith such hopes ! and that 1 should think so much \nof the pain and perishing of the flesh, though it \nbe the common way to such an end ! O hateful \nsin, that has so darkened and corrupted souls as \nto indispose them for their only expected happi- \nness ! What did man, when he forsook the love \nand obedience of his God ? How just that this \nflesh should be our prison, which we are for ma- \nking our home ! How mournful, that there is no \nmore grace and holiness, knowledge of God and \ncommunion with him in this world ! that so few are \nsaints, and those few so very imperfect ! that while \nthe sun shines on all the earth, the Sun of righte- \nousness shines on so small a part of it ! He that \nmade us capable of holy and heavenly affections, \ngave us not that capacity in vain. Yet, alas ! how \nlittle of God and glory enters into the hearts of \nmen ! When recovering light shines upon us, \nhow unthankfully do we entertain it ! We cannot \nhave the conduct and comfort of it while we shut \nour eyes and turn away. And though God give to \nthe best not so much of it as they desire, it is an \nunspeakable mercy, that in this darksome world we \nmay but hear of a better world, and may seek it \nin hope. We must not grudge in our prison to be \ndenied such a presence of our king, and such plea- \nsures of the kingdom, as innocent and free sub- \njects ha^e. Hope of pardon, and of a speedy de- \nliverance, are great mercies to malefactors. And \nif my want of the knowledge and love of God, and \nof joyful communion with the heavenly society, \n\n\n\n104 YVILLIXGNE3S TO DEPART, [Chap. V. \n\nbe my prison, and as the suburbs of he\", should \nit not make me long for the day of my redemption, \nand the glorious liberty of the sons of God? My \nsincere desires of deliverance, and of holiness and \nperfection, are my evidences that I shall obtain \nthem. As the will is the sinner, so the obstinate \ncontinuance of a will to sin is the cause of con- \ntinued sin. So far as God makes us willing to be \ndelivered from sin, so far we are delivered, and \nour imperfect deliverance is the way to more. If \npains make me groan for ease, and sickness for \nhealth, why should not my remains of ignorance, \nunbelief, and alienation from God, excite my de- \nsire after the day of mv salvation ? As it is the \nnature of my sin to draw down my heart from God \nand glory; so it is the nature of my faith, hope, \nand love, to raise my heart toward heavenly per- \nfection ; not to desire death, but that which is be- \nyond it. And have I been so many years in the \nschool of Christ, learning both how to live and \ndie, praying for this grace, and exercising it against \nthis sinful flesh ; and after all, shall I not find flesh \nmore powerful to draw me downward, than faith, \nhope, and love, to carry my desires up to God? \nfi O God, forbid ! O thou that freely gavest me \nthy grace, maintain it to the last against its ene- \nmies, and make it finally victorious ! It came from \nthee ; it has been preserved by thee ; it is on thy \nside, ;md wholly for thee ; without it I had lived \nas a beast, and should die more miserably thin a \nbea»t; ii is thbis image that thou lovest; it is z \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 105 \n\ndivine nature and a heavenly beam. What will a \nsoul be without it, but a dungeon of darkness, and \ndead to holiness and heaven ? Without it who \nshall pkad thy cause against the devil, world, and \nflesh ? Without thy glory, earth is but earth ; and \nwithout thy grace, earth would be a hell. O rather \ndeny me the light of the sun than the light of thy \ncountenance ! Less miserable had I been without \nlife or being, than without thy grace. Without \nthine and my Savior's help, I can do nothing. \nI could not pray or learn without thee ; I never \ncould conquer a temptation without thee ; and can \nI die, or be prepared to die, without thee ? I shall \nbut say, as Thomas of Christ, I know not whither \nmy soul is going, and how can I know the way ? \nMy Lord having loved his own which were in the \nworld, he loved them unto the end. He even com- \nmended and rewarded those that had continued \nwith him in his temptations. Thou lovest fidelity \nand perseverance in thy servants; and wilt thou \nforsake a sinner in his extremity, who consents to \nthy covenant, and would not forsake thee? My \nGod, I have often sinned against thee; but thou \nknowest I would fain be thine. I can say with \nPaul, thou art the \" God whose I am, and whom \nI serve;\" and O that I could serve thee better! To \nserve thee is but to receive thy grace, and use it for \nmy own and other's good, and thereby please and \nglorify thee. I have nothing to do in this world \nbut to seek and serve thee. I have nothing to do \nwith my tongue but to speak to thee, and for thee; \n\n\n\n106 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V. \n\nand with my pen, but to publish thy glory and thy \nwill. What have I to do with all my reputation \nand influence over others, but to increase thy \nchurch, and propagate thy holy truth -and service? \nWhat have I to do with my remaining time, even \nthese last and languishing hours, but to look up \nunto thee, and wait for thy grace and thy salvation ? \nO pardon all my carnal thoughts, all my unthank- \nful treatment of thy grace and love, and all my \nwillful sins against thy truth and thee ! Under the \nterrors of the law thou didst even proclaim thyself \n\" The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, \nlong-^uflering, and abundant in goodness and truth ; \nkeeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, \ntransgression, and sin.\" And is not \"the grace of \nour Lord Jesus Christ\" revealed in the Gospel for \nour more abundant faith and consolation ? My \nGod, I know I can never be sufficiently confident \nof thy au-sufflcient power, wisdom, and good \nness. When I have said, \"Will the Lord cast oft \nfor ever? and will he be favorable no more ? Is \nhis mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his promise \nfoil for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gra- \ncious? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mer- \ncies ?\"' Conscience has replied, This is mine in- \nfirmity, I never wanted comfort for want of mercy \nin thee, but for want of faith and holiness in my- \nself. And hast thou not mercy also to give me \nthat faith and holiness? My God, all is of thee \nand through thee, and to thee; and when I have \nthe felicity, the glory of all for ever will be thine. \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 107 \n\nNone that trust in thy nature and promise shall \nbe ashamed. If I can live and die trusting in thee, \nsurely I shall not be confounded. \n\nWhy then should it seem a difficult question how \nmy soul may willingly leave this world and go to \nChrist in peace ? The same grace which regen- \nerated me, must bring me to my desired end. \" Be- \nlieve and trust thy Father, thy Savior, and thy \nComforter. Hope for the joyful entertainments of \nthe promised blessedness ; and long by love for \nnearer divine union and communion. Thus, O my \nsoul, mayest thou depart in peace/' \n\n1. Believe and trust the promise of God. How \nsure is it, and how suitable to his love, to the na- \nture of our souls, and to the operations of every \ngrace ! \" Why, O my soul, art thou so vainly so- \nlicitous to have clear, distinct conceptions of the \ncelestial world ? When thou art possessed of a \nbetter state, thou shalt know it as a possessor ought \nto do ; for such a knowledge as thou lookest after \nis part of the possession. Thy Savior and his \nglorified saints are possessors. His knowledge \nmust now be thy chief satisfaction. Seek not vain- \nly to usurp his prerogative. Wouldest thou be a \nGod and Savior to thyself? Consider how much \nof the fall there is in this selfish desire to be as God, \nin knowing that which belongs not to thee to \nknow. Thou knowest that there undoubtedly is \na God of infinite perfection, \" and that he is a re- \nwarder of them that diligently seek him.\" Labor \nmore to know thy duty to this God, and absolutely \n\n\n\n108 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, LChap. V. \n\ntrust him as to the particulars of thy reward. \nThou didst trust thy parents to provide thee food \nand raiment, and didst implicitly obey them. Thou \nhast trusted physicians to give thee medicines, \nwithout inquiring after every ingredient. If a pi- \nlot undertake to carry thee to the Indies, thou canst \ntrust his conduct without knowing either the ship \nor how to govern it, or the way, or the place tc \nwhich thou art conveyed. And must not thy God \nand Savior be trusted to bring thee safe to heaven un \nless he will satisfy all thy inquiries ? The command \nto be \"careful for nothing,\" and to \"cast all thy \ncare on God, who careth for thee,\" obligeth thee \nin all things that are God's part. To dispose of \na departing soul is God's part. O how much evil \nis there in this distrusting, self-providing care) \nBe not \"cast down,\" O departing soul, nor by un- \nbelief \" disquieted within me. Trust thou in God,\" \nfor soon shall experience teach thee to \"praise \nhim,\" who is \" the health of my countenance, and \nmy God.\" \n\nHow clearly does reason command me to trust \nhim, absolutely and implicitly to trust him, and to \ndistrust myself? He is essential, infinite perfec- \ntion, wisdom, power, and love. There is nothing \nto be trusted in any creature but God working \nin it, or by it. I am altogether his own, by right, \nby devotion, and by consent. He is the giver \nof all good to every creature, as freely as the \nwn gives its light ; and shall we not trust the sun \nto shine ? He is my Father, and has taken me \n\n\n\nChap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 109 \n\ninto his family, and shall I not trust my heavenly \nFather? He has given me his Son, as the greatest \npledge of his love, and \" shall he not with him \nalso freely give me all things?\" His Son pur- \nposely came to reveal his Father's unspeakable \nJove, and shall I not trust him who has proclaimed \nhis love by such a messenger from heaven ? He \nhas given me the Spirit of his Son, even the Spirit \nof adoption, the witness, pledge, and earnest of hea- \nven, the seal of God upon me, \" holiness to the \nLord,\" and shall I not believe his love and trust \nhim ? He has made me a member of his Son, and \nwill he not take care of me, and is not Christ to \nbe trusted with his members ? I am his interest, \nand the interest of his Son, freely beloved and \ndearly bought, and may I not trust him with his \nireasure? He has made me the care of angels, \nwho rejoiced at my repentance, and shall they \nlose their joy or ministration? He is in covenant \n>vith me, and has \" given me many great and pre- \ncious promises,\" and can he be unfaithful? My \nSavior is the forerunner, who has entered into the \niioliest, and is there interceding for me, having \nfirst conquered death to assure us of a future life, \nand ascended into heaven, to show us whither we \nmust ascend, saying to his brethren, \" I ascend to \nmy Father and your Father, to my God and your \nGod ;\" and shall I not follow him through death, \nand trust such a guide and captain of my salvation? \nHe is there to \" prepare a place for me, and wi!3 \nreceive me unto himself,\" and may I not confi- \n\n10 Dying Thoughts. \n\n\n\n110 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V \n\ndently expect it ? He told a malefactor on tiie \ncross, \" To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise,'' \nto show bel : eving dinners what they may expect. \nHis apostles 2nd other saints have served him on \nearth with all these expectations. \" The spirits \nof just men made perfect\" are now possessing \nwhat I hope for, and I am a \" follower of them \nwho through faith and patience inherit the promis- \ned\" felicity ; and may I not trust him to save me, \nwho has already saved millions 1 I must be at the \ndivine disposal, whether I will or not ; and how- \never I vex my soul with fears, and cares, and sor- \nrows, I shall never prevail against the will of God \nwhich is the only rest of souls. Our own wills \nhave undone us, and are our disease, our prison, \nand our dealh, till they are brought over to the \nwill of God ; and shall J die, distrustfully striving \nagainst his will, and preferring my own before it? \nWhat abundant experience have I hai. of God's \nfidelity and love, and after all shall I not trust \nhim ? His undeserved mercy gave me being, chose \nmy parents, gave them affectionate desires for my \nreal good, taught them to instruct me early in his \nword, and educate me in his fear ; made my habi- \ntation and companions suitable, endowed me with \na teachable disposition, put excellent books into \nmy hands, and placed me under wise and faithful \nschoolmasters and ministers. His mercy fixed me \nin the best of lands, and in the best age that land \nhad seen. His mercy early destroyed in me u.] \ngreat expectations from the world, taught me to \n\n\n\nChap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. Ill \n\nbear the yoke frcm ray youth, caused me rather \nto groan under my infirmities, than struggle with \npowerful lusts, and chastened me betimes, but did \nnot give me over unto death. Ever since I was \nat the age of nineteen, great mercy has trained \nme up in the school of affliction, to keep my slug- \ngish soul awake in the constant expectation of my \nchange, to kill my proud and worldly thoughts, \nand to direct all my studies to things the most ne- \ncessary. How has a life of constant but gentle \nchastisement urged me to \" make my calling and \nelection sure,\" and to prepare my accounts, as one \nthat must quickly give them up to God! The face \nof death, and nearness of eternity, convinced me \nwhat books to read, what studies to prosecute, \nwhat companions to choose; drove me early into \nthe vineyard of the Lord, and taught ine to preach \nas a dying man to dying men. It was divine love \nand mercy which made sacred truth so pleasant to \nme that ray life, under all my infirmities, has been \nalmost a constant recreation. How far beyond \nmy expectation has a merciful God encouraged \nme in his sacred work, choosing every place of \nmy ministry and abode to this day, without my \nown seeking, and never sending me to labor in \nvain! How many are gone to heaven, and how \nmany are in the way, through a divine blessing \non the word which in weakness I delivered ! Ma- \nny good Christians are glad of now and then an \nhour to meditate on God's word, and refresh them- \nselves in his holy worship, but God has allowed \n\n\n\n112 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Cnap. V. \n\nand called me to make it the constant business \nof my life. In my library I have profitably and \npleasantly dwelt among the shining lights, with \nwhich the learned, wise, and holy men of all ages \nhave illuminated the world. How many comfor- \ntable hours have I had in the society of living \nsaints, and in the love of faithful friends! How \nmany joyful days in solemn worshiping assemblies \nwhere the Spirit of Christ has been manifestly \npresent, both with ministers and people ! How \nunworthy was such a sinful worm as I, who never \nhad any academical helps, nor much from the \nmouth of any teacher, that books should become \nso great a blessing to me, and that God should \ninduce or constrain me, quite beyond my own \nintentions, to provide any such like helps for \nothers ! How unworthy that God should use me \nabove forty years in so comfortable a work as \npleading and writing for love, peace, and concord ; \nand with so much success ! What mercy had I, \namidst the calamities of a civil war, to live two \nvears in safety at Coventry, a city of defence, and \nin the heart of the kingdom ! When I afterward \nsaw the effects of human folly, and fury, and of \nGod's displeasure, in the ruin of towns and coun- \ntries, and in the fields covered with carcasses of \nthe slain, how mercifully was I preserved and \nbrought home in peace I And O how great \nwas the mercy showed me in a peacable, humble, \nunanimous people, so numerous, so exemplary, \nand who to this day maintain their integrity and \n\n\n\nChap. Vj AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 113 \n\nconcord, when, for thirty-one years, I have been \nforced to remain at a distance from them ! What \na mercy, when I might not speak by voice to any \nsingle congregation, to be enabled to speak by \nwritings to many, and to have the plainest writings \nattended with success, and some of them sent to \npreach in foreign lands and languages ! Though \nI have been sent to the common jail for my ser \nvice and obedience to God, yet he has there kept \nme in peace, and soon delivered me : and how of- \nten has he succored me when nature and art have \nfailed ! How he has cured my consumptive coughs, \nstopped my flowing blood, eased my pained \nHmbs, and upheld an emaciated skeleton ! I have \nhad fifty years added to my days, though I ex- \npected not to live one of them : and what strange \ndeliverances have been wrought for me, upon the \nimportunate requests of many hundreds of my \npraying friends ! How have I been kept in ordi- \nnary health and safety, when the raging pestilence \ncame near my habitation and consumed an hun- \ndred thousand citizens ! And how was my dwell- \ning preserved, when I saw London, the glory of \nthe land, in flames! — These, and many more, arc \nmy experiences of that wonderful mercy which \nhas measured my pilgrimage, and filled up my \ndays. Never did God break his promise with \nme. Never did he fail me, or forsake me. And \nshall I now distrust him at last? \n\n\"To thee, O Lord, as to *a faithful Creator,' I \ncommit my soul. I know that thou art ■ the faith- \nd' 10* \n\n\n\n114 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V \n\nfal God, which keepeth covenant and mercy with \n1 hem that love thee and keep thy commandments. \nThou art faithful, who hast called me to the fel- \nlowship of thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.* Thy \nfaithfulness has saved me from temptation, and \nkept me from prevailing evil, and will k preserve \nmy whole spirit, and soul, and body, unto- the com- \ning of Christ.' It is in faithfulness thou hast af- \nflicted me, and shall I not trust thee to save me ? * It \nis thy faithful saying, that thy elect shall obtain \nthe salvation which is in Christ Jesus, with eter- \nnal glory ; for if we be dead with him, we shall \nalso live with him ; if we suffer, we shall also \nreign with him.' — To thee, O my Savior, I commit \nmy soul ; it is thine by redemption, thine by co- \nvenant; it is sealed by thy Spirit, and thou hast \npromised not to lose it. Thou wast 4 made like \nunto thy brethren, that thou mightest be a mer- \nciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining \nto God, to make reconciliation for our sins.' By \nthy blood we have boldness to enter into the ho- \nliest, by a new and living way consecrated for us. \n*?ause me to 4 draw near with a true heart, in full \nssurance of faith.' Thy name is faithful and true. \nTrue and faithful are all thy promises. Thou \nhast promised rest to weary souls that come to \nthee. I ana weary of suffering, sin, and flesh: \nweary of my darkness, dullness, and distance. \nWhither should I look for rest, but home to my \nueavenly Father and thee? I am but a bruised \nreed, but thou wilt not break me. I am but gmok- \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 115 \n\ning flax, but thou wilt not quench what thy grace \nhath kindled. Thou, in whose name the nations \ntrust, ■ wilt bring forth judgment unto victory.* \nThe Lord redeemeth the souls of his servants, \nand none of them that trust in him shall be deso- \nlate. I will wait on thy name, for it is good ; I \ntrust in the mercy of God for ever and ever. The \nLord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble, \nand he knoweth them that trust in him. Sinful \nfear brings a snare, but whoso putteth his trust in \nthe Lord, shall be safe. fr Blessed is the man that \nmaketh the Lord his trust. Thou art my hope, \nO Lord God, thou art my trust from my youth. \nBy thee have I been holden up from the womb \\ \nmy praise shall be continually of thee. Cast me \nnot off in the time of old age, forsake me not when \nmy strength faileth. O God ! thou hast taught me \nfrom my youth, and hitherto have I declared thy \nwondrous works. Now also, when I am old and \ngray-headed, O God, forsake me not. Mine eyes- \nare unto thee, O God the Lord! in thee is my \ntrust, leave not my soul destitute. I had fainted \nunless I had believed ta see the goodness of the \nLord in the land of the living/ even where they \nthat live shall die no more.\" The sun may cease \nto shine on man, and the earth to- bear us ; but \nGod will never cease to be faithful to his promises. \nBlessed be the Lord, who has commanded me so \nsafe and quieting a duty as to trust in him, and \neast all my cares upon him who has promised to \ncare for me! \n\n\n\n110 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Ch«p. V- \n\n2. Hope also for the salvation of God. Hope \nis the ease, yea, the life of our hearts, which would \notherwise break, and even die within us. Des- \npair is no small part of hell. God cherishes hope, \nas he is the lover of souls. Satan, our enemy, \ncherishes despair, when his more usual way of \npresumption fails. Hope anticipates salvation, as \nfear does evil. It is the hypocrite's hope that pe- \nrishes ; and all who hope for durable happiness on \nearth must be deceived. But \" happy is he that \nhath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope \nis in the Lord his God, which made heaven and \nearth, which keepeth truth for ever/' Wo to \nme \" if in this life only I had hope. But the right- \neous hath hope in his death And hope maketh \nnot ashamed. Blessed is the man that trustelh in \nthe Lord, and whose hope the Lord is.\" \" Lay \nhold, then, O my soul, ' upon the hope set before \nthee ;' it is thy sure and steadfast anchor, without \nwhich thou wilt be as a shipwrecked vessel. Thy \nfoundation is sure, even God himself. Our faith \nand hope are both in God. Christ dwells ui our \nhearts by faith, is in us the hope of glory. By this \nhope, better than the law of Moses could bring, \nwe draw nigh unto God. We hope for that we \nsee not, and with patience wait for it. We are \nsaved by hope. It is an encouraging grace, it ex- \ncites our diligence and helps to full assurance \nurto the end. It is a desiring grace, and is an \nearnest to obtain the glory hoped for. It is a \ncomforting grace, for 'the Gud of hops fills us \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 117 \n\nwith all joy and peace in believing, that we may \nabound in hope through the power of the Holy \nGhost.' Shake off despondency, O my soul, and \n' rejoice in hope of the glory of God.' Believe in \nhope, though dying flesh would tell thee that it \nis against hope.\" \n\nWhat blessed preparations are made for our \nhope! \" God has confirmed it by two immutable \nthings,\" his promise and his oath. \" His abun- \ndant mercy hath begotten us again unto a lively \nhope, by the resurrection of Christ, to an inheri- \ntance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth \nnot away, reserved in heaven for us.\" Grace \nteacheth us, that \" denying ungodliness and world- \nly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and \ngodly in this present world ; looking for that bless- \ned hope, and the glorious appearing of the great \nGod and our Savior.\" We are \" renewed by the \nHoly Ghost, and justified by grace, that we should \noe made heirs according to the hope of eternal \nife. The eyes of our understanding are enlight- \nened, that we may know what is the hope of his \ncalling, and what the riches of the glory of this in- \nheritance in the saints. The hope which is laid \nip for us in heaven, hath, through the Gospel, \nbrought life and immortality to light. Having \nhope toward God, we exercise ourselves to have \nalways a conscience void of offence, and serve \nvjrod day and night. For an helmet, we put on \nthe hope of salvation. Death is not to us as to \nothers which have no hope. Our Lord Jesus Christ \n\n\n\n118 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V- \n\nand God, even our Father, hath loved us, and hath \ngiven us everlasting consolation and good hope \nthrough grace, to comfort our hearts and estab- \nlish us in every good word and work. We must \nhold fast the rejoicing of the hope iirm unto the \nend, and continue in the faith grounded and set- \ntled, and not be moved away from the hope of the \nGospel.\" \" And now, Lord, what wait I for? my \nhope is in thee. Uphold me according to thy \nword, that I may live, and let me not be ashamed \nof my hope. Though our iniquities testify against \nus, yet, O Lord, the Hope of Israel, the Savior \nthereof in time of trouble, be not as a stranger, \nleave us not. We have been showed the praises \nof the Lord and his w T onderful works, that we \nmight set our hope in God. Remember the word \nunto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me \nto hope. If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities, \nO Lord, who shall stand ? But there is forgive- \nness with thee, that thou mayest be feared. I \nwait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his \nword do I hope. Let Israel hope in the Lord, \nfor with the Lord there is mercy, and with him \nis plenteous redemption. The Lord taketh plea- \nsure in them that fear him, in those that hope in \nhis mercy. Though my flesh and heart faileth, \nGod is the strength of my heart. The Lord is my \nportion, saith my soul, therefore will I hope in \nhim. The Lord is good unto them that wait for \nhim, to the soul that seeketh him. It is good that \na man should both hope and quietly wait for the \n\n\n\nohap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 119 \n\nBalvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that \nhe bear the yoke in his youth, and that he keep- \neth silence, and putteth his mouth in the dust, if \nso be there may be hope.\" \n\nGod needs not natter such worms as we are, \nnor promise us what he never means to perform. \nHe has laid the rudiments of our hope in a nature \ncapable of desiring, seeking and thinking of an- \nDther life. He has called me, by grace, to actual \ndesires and endeavors, and has vouchsafed some \nfore-tastes. I look for no heaven but the perfec- \ntion of divine life, light, and love in endless glory \nwith Christ and his saints, and this he has already \nbegun in me. And shall I not boldly hope, when \nI have capacity, the promise, and the earnest and \nforetaste ? Is it not God himself that caused me \nto hope ? Was not nature, promise, and grace \nfrom him? And can a soul miscarry and be de- \nceived that departs hence in a hope of God's own \nproducing and encouraging? \" Lord, I have liv- \ned in hope, I have prayed, labored, suffered, and \nwaited in hope, and by thy grace I will die in \nhope ; and is not this according to thy word and \nwill ? And wilt thou cast away a soul that hopes \nin thee by thine own command and operation ?\" \nHad wealth, and honor, and continuance on earth, \nor the favor of man, been my reward and hope \nmy hope and I had died together. Were this our \nbest, how vain were man ! but the Lord liveth, \nand my Redeemer is glorified, and intercedes for \nme : and the same Spirit is in heaven who is in \n\n\n\n120 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, LChap. V \n\nmy heart, as the same sun is in the firmament and \nin my house. The promise is sure to all Christ's \nseed ; for millions are now in heaven who once \nlived and died in hope ; they were sinners once, as \nI now am ; they had no other Savior, sanctifier, \nor promise than I now have. \" Confessing that \nthey were strangers and pilgrims on the earth, \nthey desired a better country, that is, a heavenly,\" \nwhere they now are. And shall I not follow them \nin hope, who have sped so well ? \" Then, O my \nsoul, hope unto the end. Hope in the Lord, from \nhenceforth and for ever. I will hope continually, \nand will yet praise him more and more. My \nmouth shall show forth his righteousness and sal- \nvation. The Lord is at my right hand, I shall not \nbe moved. Therefore my heart is glad, and my \nglory rejoiceth, my flesh also shall rest in hope. \nGod hath showed me the path of life ; in his pre- \nsence is fullness of joy, at his right hand there are \npleasures for evermore.\" \n\n3. What then remains, but that in faiih and hope \nI love my God, my Savior, my Comforter, the glo- \nrious society, and my own perfection in glory, \nbetter than this burden of flesh, and this howling \nwilderness? How odious is that darkness and un- \nbelief, that unholiness and disaffection, that dead- \nness and stupidity, which makes such love seem \nhard and unsuitable ! Is it unsuitable or hard for \nthe eye to see the light or the beauties of crea- \ntion, or for a man to love his life or health, his fa- \nther or his friend ? What should be easier to a \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 121 \n\nnature that has rational love, than to love him \nwho is love itself? He that loveth all, and gives \nto all a capacity to love, should be loved by all ; \nand he that hath especially loved me, should es- \npecially be loved by me. \n\nLove desires to please God, and therefore to be \nin the most pleasing state, and freed from all that \nis displeasing to him ; which is not to be hoped for \non earth. It desires all suitable nearness, acquain- \ntance, union, and communion. It is weary of dis- \ntance and alienation. It takes advantage of every \nnotice of God to renew and exercise these desires. \nEvery message and mercy from God is fuel for \nlove, and, while we are short of perfection, stirs \nup our desires after more of God. The soul is \nwhere it loves. If our friends dwell in our hearts \nby love; and if fleshly pleasures, riches, and hon- \nor dwell in the hearts of the voluptuous, covetous, \nand proud ; surely God and Christ, heaven and ho- \nliness, dwell in the heart which loves them fervent- \n'y. And if heaven dwell in my heart, shall I not \ndesire to dwell in heaven? Would divine love \nmore plentifully pour itself upon my heart, how \nflasy would it be to leave this flesh and world ! \nDeath and the grave would be but a triumph for \nvictorious love. It would be easier to die in peace \nand joy, than to go to rest at night after a fa- \ntiguing day, or eat when I am hungry. A little \nlove has made me willingly study, preach, write, \nand even suffer ; and would not more love make \nme willingly go to God? Shall the imagination \n\n11 Dyin? Thoughts. \n\n\n\n122 WILLlNGNESb TO DEPART, (Chap. V. \n\nof house, gardens, walks, libraries, prospects, <fcc. \nallure the desires of deceived minds, and shall not \nthe thoughts of heavenly mansions, converse and \njoys, more powerfully draw up my desires? Can \nI love such a world as this, where tyranny sheds \nstreams of blood and lays cities and countries de- \nsolate ; where the wicked are exalted, the just and \ninnocent reproached and oppressed, the Gospel \nrestrained, and idolatry and infidelity prevail 1 And \nshall I not think more delightfully of \" the inherit- \nance of the saints in light,\" and of the cordial love \nand joyful praises of the church triumphant? \nShould I not love a lovely and loving world much \nbetter than a world where there is comparatively \nso little loveliness or love ? All that is of God is \ngood and lovely. But here his glory shines not \nin felicitating splendor. I am taught to look up- \nward when I pray, \" Our Father, which art in hea- \nven.\" God's works are amiable even in hell ; and \nyet though I would know them. I would not be \nthere. And, alas ! how much of the works of man \nare here mixed with the works of God ! Here is \nGod's wisdom, but man's folly ; God's government, \nbut man's tyranny ; God's love and mercy, but man's \nwrath and cruelty ; much of God's beautiful order \nand harmony, but much of man's deformity and \nconfusion. Here is much truth and justice, but \nhow r it is mixed ! Here are wise, judicious teach- \ners and companions, but comparatively how few ! \nHere are worthy and religious families ; but by \nthe temptations of wealth, and worldly interest. \n\n\n\nChap. V.j AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 128 \n\nhow full even of the sins\" of Sodom, \"pride, full- \nness of bread, and abundance of idleness,\" if not \nalso of unmercifulness to the poor ! And how \nfew pious families of the great that do not quick- \nly degenerate from their progenitors by error or \nsensuality ! Here are some that educate their \nchildren wisely in the fear of God, and according- \nly have comfort in them ; but how many are there \nthat train them up to the service of the world, the \nflesh, and the devil ! \n\nHow many send their children to get sciences, \ntrades, or to travel in foreign lands, before ever \nthey were instructed, at home, against those temp- \ntations which they must encounter, and by which \nthey are so often undone ! How commonly, when \nthey have first neglected this great duty to their \nchildren, do they plead a necessity of thrusting \nthem out, from some punctilio of honor, or con- \nformity to the world, or to adorn them with some \nof the plumes of fashionable modes and ceremonies, \nwhich will never compensate the loss of heavenlv \nwisdom, mortification, and the love of God and \nman! As if they might send them to sea, for \nsome trifling reason, without pilot or anchor, and \nthink that God must save them from the waves ! \nAnd when such children have forsaken God, and \ngiven themselves up to sensuality and profaneness, \nthese parents wonder at the judgments of God, and \nwith broken hearts lament their own infelicity, in- \nstead of lamenting their own misconduct. Thus \nfamilies, churches, and kingdoms run on to blind- \n\n\n\n124 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V \n\naess, ungodliness, and confusion. Folly, sin, and \n.Misery, mistaking themselves for wit, honor, and \nprosperity, are the ordinary pursuits of mortals. \nSuch a bedlam is most of the world become, that \nhe is the bravest man who can sin and be damned \nwith reputation and renown, and succesfully draw \nthe greatest number with him to hell. This is thr \nworld which stands in competition for my love, \nwith the spiritual blessed world. \n\nIn this world I have had many of God's mercies \nand comforts ; but their sweetness was their taste \nof divine love and their tendency to heavenly \nperfection. What was the end and use of all the \ngood that ever I saw or that God ever did for my \nsoul or body, but to teach me to love him, and to \ndesire to love him more ? Wherever I go, and \nwhichever way I look, I see vanity and vexation \nwritten upon all things in this world, so far as they \nstand in competition with God : and I see holiness \nto the Lord written upon every thing, so far as it \nleads me to him as my ultimate end. The emp- \ntiness, danger, and bitterness of the world, and the \nall-sufficiency, faithfulness, and goodness of God, \nhave been the sum of all the experiences of all my \nlife. And shall a worldly, backward heart over- \ncome the teachings of nature, Scripture, the Spirit \nof grace, and all experience? \" O my God, love \nis thy great and special gift. All good is from \nthee. Come into this heart, for it cannot come up \nto thee ! Can the plants go up to the sun for life, \nor the eye for light? Dwell in me by the Spirit \n\n\n\nChap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRKT. 125 \n\nof love, and I shall dwell by love in thee. I ea- \nsily feel that through thy grace I love thy word : \nthy image, thy work ; and O how heartily do I \nlove to love thee, and how long to know and love \nthee more ! A.nd if * all things be of thee, and \nthrough thee, and to thee,' surely this love is erai* \nnentiy so. It means thee, Lord. It looks to thee ; \nit serves thee : for thee it moves, and seeks, and \nsighs : in thee it trusts ; and the hope, and peace, \nand comfort which support me are in thee. When \nI was a returning prodigal in rags, thou sawestme \nafar off, and didst meet me with the caresses of \nthy love; and shall I doubt whether he that has \nbetter clothed me, and has dwelt within me, will \nentertain me in the world of love ?\" \n\nThe suitableness of things below to my fleshly \nnature has detained my affections too much on \nearth ; and shall not the suitableness of things \nabove to my spiritual nature much more draw up \nmy love to heaven 1 There .is the God whom I \nhave sought and served. He is also here, but veil- \ned, and little known There he shines to heaven- \nly spirits in heavenly glory. There is the Savior \nin whom I have believed. He also dwelt on \nearth, but clothed in such meanness, and humbled \nto such a life and death, as was to the Jews a stum- \nbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness. Now \nhe shines and reigns in glory, above the malice \nand contempt of sinners. And I shall live there \nbecause he lives ; and in his light I shall see light, \nI had here some ravs of heavenly light, but tin* \n11* \n\n\n\n126 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V \n\nder what eclipses, and even long and winter nights. \nThere I shall dwell in the city of God, the hea- \nvenly Jerusalem, where there is no night nor \neclipse. There are heavenly hosts, in whose ho- \nly love and joyful praises I would fain partake. \n[ have here, though unseen, had some of their \nloving assistance : but there I shall be with them \nof the same nature, and the same triumphant \nchurch. There are perfected souls j not striving, \nlike the disciples, who should be the greatest - \nnot like Noah in the old world, or Lot in So \ndom, or Abraham among idolaters ; nor like those \nthat \" wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins, \nbeing destitute, afflicted, tormented, hid in dens \nand caves of the earth ;\" nor like Job on the dung- \nhill, or Lazarus at the rich man's gate ; nor as \nwe poor bewildered sinners, feeling evil and \nfearing more. Should I fear a darksome passage \ninto a world of perfect light 1 Should I fear to go \nto love itself? O excellent grace of faith which \nfore-sees, and blessed word of faith which fore- \nshows this world of love ! \n\n\" And canst thou doubt, my soul, whether \nthou art going to a God that loveth thee ? If the \nJews discerned the great love of Christ to Laza- \nrus by his tears, canst not thou discern his love to \nthee in his blood ? It is not the less precious, be- \ncause shed, not for thee alone, but for many. May \nI not say, I live by the faith of the Son of God, \nwho loved me, and gave himself for me? Yea, i*, \nis not so much I that live, but Christ liveth in \n\n\n\nChap. V.j AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 127 \n\nme. And will he fo-rsake the habitation which his \nlove has chosen, and which he has so dearly \nbought? What shall separate us from the love of \nGod ? If life has not, death shall not do it. O my \nsoul, if leaning on Christ's breast at meat was a to- \nken of his peculiar love to John, is not his dwelling \nin thee by faith, and his living in thee by his Spirit, \na sure token of his love to thee ? Did his darkly \nsaying, * If I will that he tarry till I come, what \nis that to thee,' raise a report that the beloved \ndisciple should not die ? why should not plain \npromises assure thee that thou shalt live for ever \nwith him that loveth thee ? Be not so unthankful, \nO my soul, as to doubt whether thy heavenly Fa- \nther and thy Lord love thee. Canst thou forget \nthe sealed testimonies of it? Did I not lately re- \npeat so many as ought to shame thy doubt? A \nmultitude of thy friends have so entirely loved \nthee, that thou canst not doubt of it ; and did any \nof them testify their love with the convincing evi- \ndence that God has done? Are they love itself ? \nIs their love so full, so firm and unchangeable as \nhis ?\" I think heaven the sweeter, because many \nof my old, lovely, affectionate, holy friends are \nthere, and I am the more willing by death to fol- \nlow them. And should it not be more pleasing to \nthink that my God and Father, my Savior and \nComforter are there? Was not Lazarus in the \nbosom of God ? And yet he is said to be in Abra- \nham's bosom ; that is, not there alone, but as we \nare-all to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob \n\n\n\n128 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, [Chap. V \n\nin the kingdom of God. 1 am often ready to enter- \ntain myself with naming such of my friends as \nare now with Christ ; but in heaven they will love \nme better than they did on earth, and my love to \nthem will be more pleasant. But all these sparks \nare little to the sun. \n\nEvery place I have lived in has its monu- \nments of divine love. Every year and hour of my \nlife has been a time of love. Every friend, neigh- \nbor, and even enemy, have been the messengers \nand instruments of love. Every state and change \nof my life, notwithstanding my sin, have opened \nto me the treasures and mysteries of love. And \nshall I doubt whether the same God loves me ? Is \nhe the God of the hills, and not of the valleys? \nDid he love me in my youth and hesJth, and will \nhe not also in my age, and pain, and sickness ? \nDid he love all the saints better in their life than \nat their death ? My groans grieve my friends, but \nabate not their love. God loved me when I was \nhis enemy, to make me a friend. God will finish \nhis own work. O the multitude of mercies to \nmy soul and body, in peace and war, in youth and \nage, to myself and friends ! Have I lived in the \nexperience of the love of God to me, and shall I \ndie doubting of it? I am not much in doubt of the \ntruth of my love to him. I love his word, works \nand ways, and would fain be nearer to him. and \n}ove him move, and lothe myself for loving him \nno better. Peter may more confidently say, \"Thou \nknowest that J love thee,\" than I know that thou \n\n\n\nChap. V.] AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 129 \n\nlovest me; because our knowledge of God's great \nlove is less than his knowledge of our little love ; \nand without the knowledge of our love to God, we \ncan never be sure of his special love to us. I am \nnot entirely a stranger to myself. I know for \nwhat I have lived and labored, and whom I have \ndesired to please. The \" God, whose I am and \nwhom I serve,\" hath loved me in my youth, and \nwill love me in my aged weakness. My pains seem \ngrievous ! but love chooses them, uses them for \nmy good, moderates them, and will shortly end \nthem. Why then should I doubt of my Father's \nluve ? Shall pain or dying make me doubt? Did \nGod never love any but Enoch and Elijah? And \nwhat am I better than my fathers? O for a \nclearer, stronger faith. Methinks Daniel's title, \n*' a man greatly beloved,\" should be enough to \nmake one joyfully love and trust God, both in life \nand death. And have not all the saints that title \nin their degrees? What else signifies their mark, \n\" holiness to the Lord ?\" It is but our separation \nto God as his peculiar, beloved people. And how \nare we separated but by mutual love? He that is \nno otherwise beloved than hypocrites and unbe- \nlievers, must have his portion with them ; and the \nungodly, unholy, and unregenerate shall not stand \nin judgment, nor see God, nor enter into his king- \ndom. Upright souls are to blame for their ground- \nless doubts of God's love, not for their acknow- \nledging it, rejoicing in it, or for being solicitous to \nmake it sure. Love brought me into the world \n\n\n\n1^0 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, LChap. V \n\nand furnished me with a thousand mercies, and has \nprovided forme, delivered and preserved me till \nnow; and will it not entertain my separate soul? \nIs God like false or insufficient friends, that for- \nsake us in adversity? \n\nI confess I have by sin wronged Love ; but all, \nexcept Christ, were sinners, whom Love has puri- \nfied and received to glory. \" God, who is rich in \nmercy, for his great Love wherewith he loved us ; \neven when we were dead in sins, hath quickened \nus together with Christ, (by grace we are saved,) \nand hath raised us up together in heavenly places \nin Christ Jesus.\" O that I could love much, that \nhave so much forgiven ! The glorified praise \n\" him that loved us, and washed us from our sins \nin his own blood, and hath made us kings and \npriests unto God. Our Father, which hath loved \nus, hath given us everlasting consolation and good \nhope through grace.\" I know no sin which I re- \npent not of with self-lothing, and I earnestly beg \nand labor that none of my sins may be unknown \nto me. O that God would bless my accusations, \nthat I may not be unknown to myself, though \nsome think me much better than I am ! \" Who \ncan understand his errors?\" Lord, \"cleanse thou \nme from secret faults ; keep back thy servant also \nfrom presumptuous sins! I have an Advocate \nwith thee,\" and thy promise, that \" if we confess \nour sins,\" thou wilt \" forgive them.\" Wherever \nI have erred, Lord, make it known to me, that \nmy confession may prevent the sin of others : \n\n\n\nChap. V.J AND TO BE WITH CHRIST. 131 \n\nand where I have not erred, confirm and accept \nme in the right. And since an unworthy worm \nhas had so many testimonies of thy love, let me \nnot, when thou sayest \" I have loved thee,\" un- \nthankfully ask, \"Wherein hast thou loved me ?\" \nHeaven is not more spangled with stars than thy \nword and works with the refulgent signatures of \nlove. Thy well-beloved Son, the Son of thy love, \nundertaketh the message and vorkof the greatest \nlove, was full of the spirit of love ; which he shed \nabroad in the hearts of thine elect, that the love \nof the Father, the grace of the Son, and the com- \nmunion of the Spirit may be their hope and life. \nBy his works, sufferings, and gifts, as well as bv \nhis comfortable word, he said to his disciples, \" As \nthe Father loved me, so have I loved you, conti- \nnue ye in my love.\" Lord, how shall we con- \ntinue in it, but by the thankful belief of thy love \nand loveliness, desiring still to love thee more, and \nin all things to know and do thy will, which thou \nknowest is my soul's desire. \n\n\" Draw nearer, O my soul, to the Lord of love, \nand be not seldom and slight in thy contemplation \nof his love and loveliness. Dwell in the sunshine, \nand thou wilt know that it is light, and warm, and \ncomfortable. Distance and strangeness cherish \nthy doubts. \" Acquaint thyself with him, and be \nat peace.\" Look up, often and earnestly look up \nafter thy ascended glorified Head. Think where, \nand what he is, and what he is now doing for all \nhis own and once abased; suffering Love is now \n\n\n\n132 WILLINGNESS TO DEPART, &c. [Cll&p. V. \n\ntriumphant, reigning, glorified Love ; and therefore \nnot less now than in all its lender expressions on \nearth.\" Had I done this more and better, and op \nI have persuaded others to do it, I had lived In \nmore convincing delights of God's love, which \nwould have turned the fears of death into mere \njoyful hopes, and more earnest •* desires to he \nwith Christ,\" in the arms, in the world, in the \nlife of love, as far better than to be here in a world \nof darkness, doubts, and fears. \" But, O my \nFather, thou infinite Love, though my arguments \nbe many and strong, my heart is bad, my strength \nis weakness, and I am insufficient to plead the \ncause of thy love and loveliness to myself or \nothers. O plead thy own cause, and what heart \ncan resist ? Let it not be my word only, but thine, \nthat thou lovest me, even me a sinner! Say as \nChrist to Lazarus, \" Arise !\" Tell me as thou dost, \nthat the sun is warm, yea, as thou didst, that my \nparents and dearest friends loved me ! Tell me, \nas by the conciousness and works of life thou \nteliest me, that thou hast given me life ; that while \nI can say, Thou that knowest all things, knowest \nthat I love thee, I may infer, Therefore I know \nI am beloved of thee ! Thus let me come to thee \nin the confidence of thy love, and long to be \nnearer, in the clearer sight, the fuller sense, and \nmore joyful exercise of love for ever ! Father, \ninto thy hand I commend my spirit! Lord Jesus, \nreceive my spirit.\" Amen. \n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\nTHE LIFE \n\n\n\nREV. RICHARD BAXTER. \n\n\n\nCHIEFLY COMPILED FROM HIS OWN WRITINGS, \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n\n150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. \n\n\n\nD. Fanshaw, Printer. \n\n\n\n> \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nChapter I. — His early life and conversion. — His fa- \nther — early vices — the Bible and religious books \nblessed in his conversion — his early studies — fee- \nble health — spiritual conflicts— sources of comfort \n— death of his mother — desire to be useful. . . V \n\nChapter II. — His ordination and first public engage- \nments. — Preaches at Dudley — removes to Bridg- \nnorth — and then to Kidderminster 21 \n\nChapter III. — His labors, trials, and success at Kid- \nderminster. — Benefit of previous trials — branded \nas a traitor — hardly escapes with life — leaves Kid- \nderminster and preaches to soldiers at Coventry — \nbecomes chaplain of a regiment under Cromwell — \nfailure of his health — writes the Saints' Rest — re- \nturns to Kidderminster, and remains fourteen \nyears — character of his labors — acts as a physi- \ncian — success of his ministry — various means of \nusefulness employed — his \"Reformed Pastor\" — \nis consulted by Cromwell — writes his \" Call to the \nUnconverted,\" and other works 25 \n\nChapter IV. — His engagements after leaving Kidder- \nminster. — Visits London — preaches to parliament \n— interview wiiL Uie king — attempts to reconcile \n\n\n\n4 CONTENTS. \n\nthe conflicting parties — declines a bishopric — for- \nbidden to return to Kidderminster— his interest in \nmissions to the Indians — writes to Eliot — great con- \ncern for the conversion of the world — further un- \nsuccessful attempts at reconciliation — is accused of \nsedition — preaches in London — not allowed to ad- \ndress his people at Kidderminster— is ejected, with \n2,000 others, by the \"Act of Uniformity \" — his mar- \nriage — the plague and fire in London — preaches in \nhis own house — acquaintance with Judge Hale. . \n\nChapter V. — His persecution, trials, and death. — Is \napprehended and cast into prison, where he is kept \nin great peace — is offered preferment by the king \nof Scotland — reasons for declining it — is licensed \nto preach again, under restrictions — preaches in \nLondon — writes the \" Poor Man's Family Book,\" \nand other works — great success in preaching — in- \nterrupted by persecutions— death of Mrs. Baxter — \nfeeble health and further persecutions — commences \na :< Paraphrase of the New Testament\" — is char- \nged with sedition for writing it— mock trial before \nLord Chief Justice Jeffries— is two years impr>- \nsoned — Matthew Henry's description of his pa- \ntience — he is released from prison — preaches in \nhis own house — last sickness — death \n\nChapter VI. — His person, views of himself, and ge- \nneral character. — His person — his survey of his \nown character, showing the changes from his ear- \nlier to his riper years — character of his prayers — \nof his sermons — his works — his bodily sufferings — \nlove to souls — walk with God. . . . \n\n\n\n. . 123 \n\n\n\nNOTE. \n\nThe life of this eminent servant of God, abound- \ning with striking incidents, and adapted to be use- \nful to all, is published nearly in the present form \nby the Religious Tract Society in London. Some \ncorrections of obscure phraseology and antique style \nare here made, without altering the character of the \nnarrative. The reader will be struck with his extra- \nordinary reliance on the efficacy of prayer ; his abun- \ndant labors as a pastor ; the rudeness, ignorance, and \npersecuting spirit of the age in which he lived ; his \nburning zeal for the spread of the Gospel at that \nearly period of modern missions ; the great variety of \nworks he was enabled to write, though in a very low \nstate of health ; and the wonderful extent to which \nthe powers of the mind may be kept up by the ha- •. \nbitual exercise of them, even amid the multiplied \ninfirmities of old age. \n\nA more full account of the man, comprising a \ndescription of his voluminous writings, may be found \nby \\he student in \" Baxter's Life and Times, by Rev, \nWilliam Orme ■ \" 2 vols, octavo. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF \n\n\n\nREV. RICHARD BAXTER. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\nHIS EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION. \n\nRichard Baxter was born at Rowton, Shropshire, \n(England,) on the 12th of November, 1615. He resided \nin that village with his maternal grandfather till he \nwas nearly ten years of age, when he was taken home \nto live with his parents at Eaton Constantine, in the \nsame county. His father, he says, \" had the competent \nestate of a freeholder, free from the temptations of po- \nverty and riches; but having been addicted to gaming \nin his youth, as was also his father before him, it was \nso entangled by debts, that it occasioned some excess \nof worldly cares before it was freed.\" \n\nThe father of Richard Baxter, about the time cf his \nson's birth, became seriously impressed with the im- \nportance of divine truth, and appears to have subse- \nquently become a sincere follower of the Redeemer. \nHis conversion was effected chiefly through the instru- \nmentality of reading the Scriptures. He had but few \nopportunities of attending on other means of grace. \nMany of the pulpits were occupied by ministers igno- \n\n\n\n8 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nrant of the truth as it is in Jesus ; and those who preach- \ned the Gospel in its purity were, for the most part, so \ndespised and contemned, that it required no small share \nof moral courage to attend on their ministry. Convert- \ned himself, he became anxious for the salvation of his \nonly son. He directed the attention of his youthful \ncharge to the sacred Scriptures, whence he had himself \nderived so much benefit. Nor were his instructions \nand efforts altogether vain. Baxter thus ingenuously \nconfesses his early sins and convictions, in his history \nof his own life and times : \n\n\" At first my father set me to read the historical parts \nof Scripture, which, suiting with my nature, greatly \ndelighted me ; and though all that time I neither un- \nderstood nor relished much the doctrinal part and mys- \ntery of redemption, yet it did me good, by acquainting \nme with the matters of fact, and drawing me on to love \nthe Bible, and to search by degrees into the rest. \n\n\" But though my conscience would trouble me when \nI sinned, yet divers sins I was addicted to, and often \ncommitted against my conscience; which, for the warn- \ning of others, I will here confess, to my shame. \n\n\" 1. I was much addicted, when I feared correction, \nto lie, that I might escape. \n\n\" 2. I was much addicted to the excessive gluttonous \neating of apples and pears, which, I think, laid the foun- \ndation of that weakness of my stomach which caused \nthe bodily calamities of my life. \n\n\" 3. To this end, and to concur with naughty boys \nthat gloried in evil, I have often gone into other men's \norchards, and stolen their fruit, when I had enough at \nhome. \n\n\" 4. I was somewhat excessively addicted to play, \nand that with covetousness for money. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. y \n\n(i 5. I was extremely bewitched with a love of ro- \nmances, fables, and old tales, which corrupted my affec- \ntions and wasted my time. \n\n\" 6. I was guilty of much idle foolish chat, and imi- \ntation of boys in scurrilous foolish words and actions, \nthough I durst not swear. \n\n\" 7. I was too proud of the commendations of my \ninstructors, who all of them fed my pride, making me \nseven or eight years the highest in the school, and \nboasting of me to others ; which, though it furthered \nmy learning, yet helped not my humility. \n\n\" 8. I was too bold and irreverent towards my pa- \nrents. \n\n\" These were my sins, with which, in my childhood, \nconscience troubled me for a great while before they \nwere overcome.\" \n\nHis convictions gathered strength, although occa- \nsionally resisted. The temptations to neglect religion \nwere strong and powerful. The reproach cast on his \nfather and others, who, for their desire and pursuit of \nholiness, were contemptuously designated \" Puritans,\" \nproved for a season a stumbling-block in his path. Still, \nhowever, the reflecting mind of the son led him to dis- \ncern the difference between the conduct of his father \nand that of his calumniators, and to conclude that there \nwas more of reason and truth in a life of holiness, than \nin a life of impiety and rebellion against the majesty \nof heaven. He says : \n\n\" In the village where I lived, the Reader read the \ncommon prayer briefly ; and the rest of the day, even \ntill dark night almost, except eating time, was spent \nin dancing under a may-pole and a great tree, not far \nfrom my father's door, where all the town met toge- \nther: and though one of my father's own tenants was \n\n\n\n10 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthe piper, he could not restrain him not break the \nsport; so that we could not read the Scripture in our \nfamily without the great disturbance of the taber and \npipe, and noise in the street !* Many times my mind \nwas inclined to be among them, and sometimes I broke \nloose from my conscience and joined with them ; and \nthe n)pre I did it, the more I was inclined to it. But \nwhen I heard them call my father ' Puritan,' it did \nmuch to cure me and alienate me from them; for I \nconsidered that my father's exercise of reading the \nScripture was better than theirs, and would surely be \njudged better by all men at the last; and I considered \nwhat it was, for which he and others were thus derided. \nWhen I heard them speak scornfully of others, as Pu- \nritans, whom I never knew, I was at first apt to believe \nall the lies and slanders wherewith they loaded them ; \nbut when I heard my own father so reproached, and \nperceived that drunkards were the most forward in the \nreproach, I perceived that it was mere malice. For my \nfather never objected to common prayer or ceremonies, \nnor spoke against bishops, nor ever so much as prayed \nbut by a book or form, being unacquainted then with \nany that did otherwise. But only for reading Scripture \nwhen the rest were dancing on the Lord's day, and for \npraying by a form out of the end of the common \nprayer book, in his house, and for reproving drunkards \nand swearers, and for talking sometimes a few words \nof Scripture, and about the life to come, he was reviled \ncommonly by the name of Puritan, Precisian, and Hy- \npocrite; and so were the godly ministers that lived in \nthe country near us, not only by our neighbors, but by \n\n\"These profanations of the Lord's day were authorised and \nencouraged by the royal proclamation, called the Hook of \nfcports, set forth A. I). ifilS.— See Life of Bishop Hall, p. 36. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 11 \n\nthe common talk, of the multitude all about us. By this \nobservation I was fully convinced that godly people \nwere the best; and those that despised them, and lived \nin sin and pleasure, were a malignant, unhappy sort of \npeople ; and this kept me out of their company, except \nnow and then, when the love of sports and play en- \nticed me.\" \n\nWhen about fifteen years of age, \" it pleased God,\" \nhe writes, \" of his wonderful mercy, to open my eyes \nwith a clearer insight into the concerns and case of my \nown soul, and to touch my heart with a livelier feel- \ning of things spiritual than ever I had found before.\" \nWhile under this concern, a poor man in the town \nlent his father an old torn book, entitled \"Bunny's \nResolutions.\" \" In reading this book,\" he observes, \n\" it pleased God to awaken my soul, and show me the \nfolly of sinning, and the misery of the wicked, and the \ninexpressible weight of things eternal, and the neces- \nsity of resolving on a holy life, more than I was ever \nacquainted with before. The same things which I \nknew before, came now in another manner, with light, \nand sense, and seriousness to my heart.\" \n\n\" Yet, whether sincere conversion began now, or be- \nfore, or after, I was never able to this day to know; for \nI had before had some love to the things and people \nthat were good, and a restraint from sins, except those \nforementioned ; and so much from most of those, that \nI seldom committed them, and when I did, it was with \ngreat reluctance. And, both now and formerly, I knew \nthat Christ was the only mediator by whom we must \nhave pardon, justification, and life; but I had little \nlively sense of the love of God in Christ to the world \nor me, or of my special need of him !\" \n\n\" About this time it pleased God that a poor pedlar \n\n\n\n12 LIFE OF BAXTER \n\ncame to the door with ballads and some good boo \nand my father bought of him Dr. Sibbs' 'Bruised ReC \nThis, also, I read, and found it suited to my taste, a \nseasonably sent me ; which opened more the love ll \nGod to me, and gave me a livelier apprehension of tn \nmystery of redemption, and of my obligations to Jes;> \nChrist.\" \n\n\" After this, we had a servant who had a little pit \nof Mr. Perkins' works, ' Of Repentance,' and tlr \n' Art of living and dying well,' and the ' Governmt ' \nof the Tongue ;' and the reading of that did furtfc'O \ninform me, and confirm me. And thus, without «<i \nmeans but books, was God pleased to resolve me ; ' \nhimself.\" \n\nVarious are the means by which God awakens 1 1' \nsoul to a sense of its danger, and leads it to the khof \nledge and enjoyment of himself. The pulpit and it \nschool, conversation and reading, correspondence a'J \nadvice, have been employed as instruments in )l \nhands of the Eternal Spirit in effecting the conversiu \noTsohIs* To preaching, as the express appointments \nGod, must be ascribed the highest place j but infer u \nonly to it is the instrumentality of religious boo J \nIn places where the preaching of the Gospel is M \nknown or unattended, the distribution of such ben b \nis of the utmost importance. To such bowks Bd \nwas greatly indebted for his conversion : and ha \nderived so much benefit from this means, he ei \nemployed it extensively among his friends, his flo«l> \nand all to whom his influence would reach. The fac « \nties afforded, in the present day, for the disseminata) '-. \nreligious knowledge are truly astonishing ; and amt^ \nothers, the efforts of Religious Tract Societies, w 2 \ntheir millions of publications, should not be overlook c \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 13 \n\nmy will arise in the last day, and acknowledge that \nsir conversion was effected by means of these publi- \nitions. Nor is it the least advantage of these instilli- \nng, that they afford an opportunity to persons in the \nmolest circumstances to be instrumental in doing \nod to their fellow-creatures. They can give a Tract° \nnigh they cannot deliver a discourse ; they can send \nTract where they cannot visit in person ; they can \nculate books where they cannot engage in religious \niversation. In the formation of Baxter's earlyreli- \nus opinions and character, we see the instrumen- \nty of a laborer, a pedlar, and a servant employed, \ne sovereignty of God is clearly seen in the agents \ni means of salvation. \" His wisdom is unsearch- \nb, and his ways are past finding out.\" \" To God \ny wise, be all the glory.\" \n\nSaxter's early education was greatly neglected. His \nfessed teachers were either incompetent to their \n:, or suffered him to be occupied rather as he chose \n1 according to any regular plan. Notwithstanding \nneglect and irregularity, he made considerable \n?ress. He rose superior to every difficulty, and in \ntime became qualified to enter the university. He \npersuaded, however, not to enter college, but to \nue his studies under the direction of Mr. Wick- \n, chaplain to the council at Ludlow Castle. Beino- \n<nly pupil, it was expected that, through the un- \nLed attention of his tutor, his proficiency would \n, reater than either at Cambridge or Oxford. The \ni ?ptor became much attached to the pupil ■ but \nI in earnest quest of place and preferment, he \nJjcted his charge. He allowed him « books and \ni enough,\" but never seriously attempted to in- \nj|t and improve his mind. Nor was this the only \n\n2 Baxter, Li fa. \n\n\n\n14 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ndisadvantage attending his residence at Ludlow, for \nhe was thrown into gay and fashionable society, and \nwas exposed to the various temptations incident lo \nsuch a situation. His religious principles were in dan- \nger of being corrupted or destroyed by the practice of \ngambling; but he was enabled, by the grace of God, \nto escape the snare, and to resist all subsequent at- \ntempts to lead him astray. In this situation he formed \nan intimacy with a young man of professed piety, but \nwho, at length, by the seductive influence of liquor, \nbecame an apostate. At this period, however, he in- \nducted young Baxter \" in the way of God more per- \niectly 5\" prayed with him, exhorted and encouraged \nhim in his religious course, and thus became of essen- \ntial service to his young friend. Baxter remained with \nhis tutor about a year and a half, and then returned \nhome. At the request of lord Newport, he took the \ncharge of the grammar school at Wroxeter for a short \ntime, as the master was in a dying state. On his death, \nBaxter left this charge, and pursued his studies and \nreligious inquiries under the direction of the venerable \nMr. Garbett, a minister of Wroxeter. \n\nThe health of Baxter was in a precarious state, and, \nin the prospect of eternity, he became more solicitous \nto improve his remaining days in the worship, and \nways, and service of God. He says : \n\n\"Being in expectation of death, by a violent cough, \nwith spitting of blood, &c. of two years continuance, \nsupposed to be a consumption, I was awakened to be \nmore solicitous about my soul's everlasting state ; and \nI came so short of that sense and seriousness which a \nmatter of such infinite weight required, that I was ma- \nny yeai'3 in doubt of my sincerity, and thought I had \nno spiritual life at all. I wondered at the senseless \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 15 \n\nhardness of my heart, that I could think and talk of \nsin and hell, and Christ and grace, of God and heaven \nwith no more feeling. I cried from day to day to God \nfor grace against this senseless deadness. I called my- \nself the most hard-hearted sinner, that could feel no- \nthing of all that I knew and talked of. I was not then \nsensible of the incomparable excellence of holy love \nand delight in God, nor much employed in thanksgiv- \ning and praise ; but all my groans were for more con- \ntrition and a broken heart, and I prayed most for tears \nand tenderness. \n\n\" Thus was I long kept with the calls of approach- \ning death at one ear, and the questionings of a doubt- \nful conscience at the other; and since then I have \nfound that this method of God's was very wise, and \nno other was so likely to have tended to my good. \nThese benefits of it I sensibly perceived. \n\n\" 1. It made me vile and loathsome to myself, and \nmade pride one of the most hateful sins in the world \nto me. I thought of myself as I now think of a detest \nable sinner, and my enemy: that is, with a love of be- \nnevolence, wishing them well, but with little love of \ncomplacency at all ; and the long continuance of it \ntended the more effectually to a habit. \n\n\" 2. It much restrained me from that sportful levity \nand vanity to which my nature and youthfulness much \ninclined me, and caused me to meet temptations to sen- \nsuality with the greatest fear, and made them less ef- \nfectual against me. \n\n\" 3. It made the doctrine of redemption the more \nsavory to me, and my thoughts of Christ more serious \nand clear. I remember, in the beginning, how benefi- \ncial to me were Mr. Perkins' short treatise of the \n'Right Knowledge of Christ crucified,' and his 'Ex- \n\n\n\n16 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nposition of the Creed,' because they taught me how to \nlive by faith on Christ. \n\n\"4. It made the world seem to me as a carcass that \nhad neither life nor loveliness, and it destroyed that am- \nbitious desire after literary fame which was the sin of \nmy childhood. I had a desire before to have attained \nthe highest academical degrees and reputation of learn- \ning, and to have chosen out my studies accordingly , \nbut sickness, and solicitousness for my doubting soul, \nshamed away all these thoughts as fooleries and chil- \ndren's plays. \n\n\"5. It set me upon that method of my studies, of \nwhich, since then, I have found the benefit, though at \nthe time I was not satisfied with myself. It caused me \nfirst to seek God's kingdom and his righteousness, and \nmost to mind the one thing needful ; and to determine \nfirst on my ultimate end, by which I was engaged to \nchoose out and prosecute all other studies but as meant \nto that end. Therefore divinity not only shared with \nthe rest of my studies, but always had the first and \nchief place. And it caused me to study a practical di- \nvinity first, in the most practical books, in a practical \norder ; doing all purposely for the informing and re- \nforming of my own soul.\" \n\n\" And as for those doubts of my own salvation, which \nexercised me many years, the chief causes of them \nwere these : \n\n\" 1. Because I could not distinctly trace the work- \nings of the Spirit upon my heart, in that method which \nMr. Bolton, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Rogers, and other di- \nvines describe; nor knew the time of my conversion, \nbeing wrought on by the forementioned degrees. But, \nsince then, I understood that the soul is in too dark \nand passionate a plight at first to be able to keep an \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 17 \n\nexact account of the order of its own operations; and \nthat preparatory grace, being sometimes longer and \nsometimes shorter, and the first degree of special grace \nbeing usually very small, it is not to be expected that \nmany will be able to give a true account of the time \nwhen special grace began. \n\n\" 2. My second doubt was as aforesaid, because of \nthe hardness of mv heart, or want of such lively appre- \nhensions of things spiritual as I had about things cor- \nporeal. And though I still groan under this as my \nsin and want, yet I now perceive that a soul in flesh \nworks so much after the manner of the ilesh, that it \nmuch desires sensible apprehensions ; but things spi- \nritual and distant are not so apt to excite emotion and \nstir the passions. \n\na 3. My next doubt was lest education and fear had \ndone all that ever was done upon my soul, and regen- \neration and love were yet to be sought ; because I had \nfound conviction from my childhood, and found more \nfear than love in all my duties and restraints. \n\n\" But I afterwards perceived that education is an or- \ndinary way for the conveyance of God's grace, and \nought no more to be set in opposition to the Spirit, than \nthe preaching of the word ; and that it was the great \nmercy of God to begin with me so soon, and to prevent \nsuch sins as else might have been my shame and sor \nrow while I lived. And I understood, that, though \nfear without love be not a state of saving grace, and \ngreater love to the world than to God be not consistent \nwith sincerity, yet a little predominant love, prevail- \ning against worldly love, conjoined with a far greater \nmeasure of fear, may be a state of special grace. And \nI found that my hearty love of the word of God, and \nof the servants of God, and my desires to be more ho- \n\n\n\n18 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nly, and especially the hatred of my heart for loving God \nno more, and my wish to love him, and be pleasing to \nhim, were not without some true love to himself, \nthough it appeared more sensibly afterwards. \n\n\" 4. Another of my doubts was, because my grief \nand humiliation were no greater, and because I could \nweep no more for this. \n\n\" But I understood, at last, that God breaks not all \nmen's hearts alike, and that the gradual proceedings \nof his grace might be one cause, and my nature, not \napt to weep for other things, another ; and that the \nchange of our heart from sin to God is true repent- \nance ; and a loathing of ourselves is true humiliation; \nand that he that had rather leave his sin, than have \nleave to keep it, and had rather be the most holy, than \nhave leave to be unholy or less holy, is neither with- \nout true repentance nor the love of God. \n\n\" 5. Another of my doubts was, because I had, after \nmy change, committed some sins deliberately and \nknowingly. And, be they ever so small, I thought, he \nthat could sin upon knowledge and deliberation, had \nno true grace ; and that, if I had but had as strong \ntemptations to fornication, drunkenness, fraud, or other \nmore heinous sins, I might also have committed them. \nAnd if these proved that I had then no saving grace, \nafter all that I had felt, I thought it unlikely that ever \nI should have any.\" \n\n(: The means by which God was pleased to give me \nsome peace and comfort were — \n\n\" 1. The reading of many consolatory books. \n\n\" 2. The observation of the condition of other men. \nWhen I heard many make the very same complaints \nthat I did, who were people of whom I had the best \nesteem for the uprightness and holiness of their lives. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 19 \n\nit much abated my fears and troubles. And, in par- \nticular, it mue 1 ! comforted me to read him whom 1 \nloved as one ot the holiest of all the martyrs, John \nBradford, subscribing himself so often, ' The hard- \nhearted sinner,' and ' The miserable hard-hearted sin- \nner,' even as I was used to do myself. \n\n\"3. And it much increased my peace, when God's \nprovidence called me to the comforting of many others \nthat had the same complaints. While I answered their \ndoubts, I answered my own ; and the charity which I \nwas constrained to exercise for them, redounded to \nmyself, and insensibly abated my fears, and procured \nme an increase of quietness of mind. \n\n\" And yet, after ail, I was glad of probabilities in- \nstead of full undoubted certainties: and to this very \nday, though I have no such degree of doubtfulness as \nis any great trouble to my soul, or procures any great \ndisquieting fears, yet I cannot say that I have such a \ncertainty of my own sincerity in grace, as excludes all \ndoubts and fears of the contrary.\" \n\nBaxter's old preceptor induced him for a season to \nlay aside all thoughts of the ministry, and to become \nan attendant at court. He resided for a month at \nWhitehall, but became so disgusted with the scenes \nand practices of high life, that his conscience would \nnot allow his longer continuance from home. He says : \n\" I had, quickly, enough of the court ; when I saw a \nstage-play, instead of a sermon, on the Lord's day in \nthe afternoon, and saw what course was there in fash- \nion, and heard little preaching but what was, in some \npart, against the puritans, I was glad to be gone. At \nthe same time, it pleased God, my mother fell sick, and \ndesired my return ; and so I resolved to bid farewell \nto those kinds of employments and expectations.\" \n\n\n\n20 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nWhen he was going home into the country, about \nChristmas day, A. D. 1634, he relates that, on meeting \na loaded wagon, his horse fell on the side of a bank, \nby which he was thrown before the wheel, which he \nsays \" had gone over me, but that, as it pleased God, \nthe horses suddenly stopped, without any discemable \ncause, till I was recovered ; which commanded me to \nobserve the mercy of my Protector.\" \n\nOn his return he found his mother extremely ill. \nShe lingered till May, and then expired. \n\nBaxter's own health was in a very precarious state ; \nbut he was anxiously desirous of doing good during \nthe short time which he supposed would be allotted to \nhim on earth. He states : \n\n\" My own soul being under serious apprehensions \nof another world. I was exceedingly desirous to com- \nmunicate those apprehensions to ignorant, presump- \ntuous, careless sinners. But I was in a very great per- \nplexity between my encouragements and my discou- \nragements. I was conscious of my personal insuffi- \nciency, for want of that measure of learning and expe- \nrience which so great and high a work required. I \nknew that the want of academical honors and degrees \nwas likely to make me contemptible with the most, and \nconsequently hinder the success of my endeavors. \nBut yet, expecting to be so quickly in another world, the \ngreat concerns of miserable souls prevailed with me \nagainst all these impediments; and being conscious of \na thirsty desire of men's conversion and salvation, and \nof some competent persuading faculty of expression \nwhich fervent affections might help to actuate, I re- \nsolved, that if one or two souls only might be won to \nGod, it would recompense all the dishonor I might re- \nceive from men !\" \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 21 \n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nHIS ORDINATION, AND FIRST PDBLIC ENGAGEMENTS. \n\nBaxter was induced, by the advice of his friend \nBerry, to accept the head mastership of a newly en- \ndowed grammar school at Dudley, Worcestershire. \nHe was the more ready to accept this situation, as it \nwould afford him an opportunity of preaching in that \nunenlightened neighborhood. He applied for ordina- \ntion to the Bishop of Winchester, which, after exami- \nnation and subscription, was duly administered. He, \nmoreover, received the bishop's license to teach in the \nschool at Dudley. In a subsequent period of his life, \nhe dedicated his treatise on \" Self-denial\" to his friend \nColonel Berry, whose character had undergone a con- \nsiderable change. The following passage from his \ndedicatory letter describes his views and feelings on \nentering the ministry, and his obligation to his friend \nand adviser. \" You brought me into the ministry. I \nam confident you know to what ends, and with what \nintentions I desired it. I was then very ignorant, \nyoung, and raw. Though my weakness be yet such as \nI must lament, I must say, to the praise of the great \nShepherd of the flock, that he hath, since then, offord \nme precious opportunities, much assistance, and as \nmuch encouragement as to any man that I know alive. \nYou know my education and initial weakness were \nsuch as forbid me to glory in the flesh ; but I will not \nrob God of his glory to avoid the appearance of osten- \ntation, lest I be proud of seeming not to be proud. \nI doubt not but many thousand souls will thank you, \n\n\n\n22 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nwhen they have read that you were the man that led \nme into the ministry.\" \n\n\" Being settled in the new school at Dudley, I there \npreached my first public sermon in the upper parish \nchurch, and afterwards preached in the villages about ; \nand there had occasion to enter afresh upon the study \nof Conformity ;* for there were many private Christians \nthereabouts that were non-conformists, and one in the \nhouse with me. And that excellent man, Mr. William \nFenner, had lately lived two miles off, at Sedgley, who, \nby defending conformity, and honoring it by a won- \nderfully powerful and successful way of preaching, \nconference, and holy living, had stirred up the non- \nconformists the more to a vehement pleading of their \ncause. And though they were there generally godly \nhonest people, yet they were smartly censorious, and \nmade conformity no small fault. And they lent me \nmanuscripts and books which I never saw before ; \nwhereupon I thought it my duty to set upon a serious \nimpartial trial of the whole cause. \n\n\"In the town of Dudley I lived in much comfort, \namongst a poor tractable people, lately noted for drun- \nkenness, but commonly more ready to hear God's word \nwith submission and reformation than most places \nwhere I have been, so that having, since the wars, set \nup a monthly lecture there, the church was usually \nas much crowded within, and at the windows, as ever \nI saw any London congregation ; partly through the \ngreat willingness of the people, and partly by the ex- \nceeding populousness of the country, where the wooda \nand commons are planted with nailers, scythe-smiths, \nand other iron laborers, like a continued village. \n\n* To the enactments of the established church. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 23 \n\nu When I had been but three quarters of a year at \nDudley, I was, by God's very gracious providence, \ninvited to Bridgnorth, the second town of Shropshire, to \npreach there, as assistant to the worthy pastor of thai \nplace. As soon as I heard the place described, I judged \nit was the fittest for me; for there was just such em- \nployment as I desired and could submit to without vi- \nolating conscience, and some probability of peace and \nquietness. \n\n\"But the people proved a very ignorant, dead-heart- \nod people, the town consisting too much of inns and \nale-houses, and having no general trade to employ the \ninhabitants, which is the undoing of many large towns. \nSo that though, through the great mercy of God, my first \nlabors were not without success in the conversion of \nsome ignorant and careless sinners to him, and were \nover-valued by those that were already regardful of \nthe concerns of their souls, yet they were not so suc- \ncessful as they proved afterwards in other places. \nThough I was in the fervor of my affections, and ne- \nver any where preached with more vehement desires \nof men's conversion, yet, with the generality, applause \nof the preacher was most of the success of the sermon \nwhich I could hear of; and their tippling, and iil-com- \npany, and dead-heartedness quickly drowned all.\" \n\nThough a friend to episcopacy, yet the omission of \nsome required ceremonies, together with his refusal to \ntake the \" et cetera\" oath, (binding him never to give \nhis consent to alter the government of the church in par- \nticulars not distinctly defined,) had nearly occasioned \nhis expulsion from the ministry, and the loss of his \nliberty, if not, in his weak and infirm state of health, \nof life itself. Indeed, some of his accusers threatened \nhim with \" hanging\" if he did not comply. God, how- \n\n\n\n24 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\never, in whose hamjs are the hearts of all men, changed \nthe purposes and restrained the malice of his adver- \nsaries. He continued to preach at Bridgnorth a year \nand three-quarters, in the uninterrupted enjoyment of \nliberty, which, says he, \" I took to be a very great mer- \ncy to me in these troublesome times.*' \n\nHe says, Ci The long parliament, among other parts \nof their reformation, resolved to reform the corrupted \nclergy, and appointed a committee to receive petitions \nand complaints against them ; which was no sooner \nunderstood, but multitudes in all countries came up \nwith petitions against their ministers.\" \n\n\" Among all these complainers, the town of Kidder- \nminister, in Worcestershire, drew up a petition against \ntheir minister. The vicar of the place they represented \nas utterly insufficient for the ministry ; presented by a \npapist; unlearned; preaching but once a quarter, and \nthat so feebly as exposed him to laughter, and showed \nthat he understood not the essential articles of Chris- \ntianity; as one thai frequented ale houses ; had some- \ntimes been drunk, &c. \n\n\" The vicar, knowing his insufficiency, and hearing \nhow two others in this case had fared, desired to com- \npound the business with them, which was soon accom- \nplished. Hereupon they invited me to them from \nBridgnorth. The bailiff of the town, and all the feof- \nfees, desired me to preach with them, in order to a full \ndetermination. My mind was much to the place, as \nsoon as it was described to me, because it was a fill) \ncongregation, with a most convenient temple; they \nwere an ignorant, rude, and revelling people for the \nmost part, who had need of preaching; and yet had \namong them a small company of converts, humble, \ngodly, and of good conversation, and not much hated \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER.. 23 \n\nby the rest, and therefore the fitter to assist tneir teach \ner: but above all, because they had hardly ever had \nany lively, serious preaching among them. For Bridg- \nnorth had made me resolve that I would never more \ngo among a people that had been hardened in unpro- \nfitableness under an awakening ministry; but either to \nsuch as never had any convincing preacher, or to such \nas had profited by him. As soon as I came to Kidder- \nminster, and had preached there one day, I was cho- \nsen, without opposition j for though fourteen only had \nihe power of choosing, they desired to please the rest. \nAnd thus I was brought, by the gracious providence \nof God, to that place which had the chief of my labors, \nand yielded me the greatest fruits. And I noted the \nmercy of God in this, that I never went to any place in \nmy life, among all my changes, which I had before \ndesigned, or thought of, much less sought, but only \nto those that I never thought of, till the sudden invita- \ntion surprised me.' 5 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\nfclS LABORS, TRIALS, AND SUCCESS AT KIDDERMINSTER, \n\nTo this important and interesting scene of labor \nBaxter was invited on the 9th of March, 1640. His le- \ngal appointment, after laboring among the people dur- \ning the interval, is dated April 5, 1641. \n\nFor this station of public and extensive usefulness, \nlie had been prepared by various painful and alarming \nafflictions. He says :\" All this foromentioned time of \n\n3 Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n26 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nmy ministry was passed under my foredescribed weak \nnesses, which were so great as made me live and preach \nin continual expectation of death, supposing still that \nI had not long to live. And this I founds through all \nmy life, to be an invaluable mercy to me : for — \n\n\" 1. It greatly weakened temptations. \n\n\" 2. It kept me in great contempt of the world. \n\n' ; 3. It taught me highly to esteem time; so that, if \nany of it passed away in idleness or unprofitableness, \nit was so long a pain and burden to my mind. So that \nI must say, to the praise of my most wise Conductor, \nthat time has still seemed to me much more precious \nthan gold, or any earthly gain, and its minutes have \nnot been despised, nor have I been much tempted to \nany of the sins which go under the name of pastime, \nsince I undertook my work. \n\n\"4. It made me study and preach things necessary, \nand a little stirred up my sluggish heart to speak to \nsinners with some compassion, as a dying man to dy- \ning men. \n\n\" These, with the rest which I mentioned before, \nwhen I spake of my infirmities, were the benefits which \nGod afforded me by affliction. I humbly bless his gra- \ncious providence, who gave me his treasure in an \nearthen vessel, and trained me up in the school of af- \nfliction, and taught me the cross of Christ so soon, that \nI might be rather, as Luther speaks, ' a cross-bearer, \nthan a cross-maker, or im poser.' \" \n\nHis spiritual conflicts, too, were of a distressing cha- \nracter, and tended, eventually, by the grace of God, \nto qualify him to be an instructor of others, both as a \npreacher and writer. He says : \n\n\" At one time, above all the rest, struggling under \na new and unusual disease, which put me upon the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 27 \n\npresent expectation of my change, and going for com- \nfort to the promises, as I was used, the tempter strong- \nly assaulted my faith, and would have drawn me to- \nwards infidelity itself. Till I was ready to enter into \nthe ministry, all my troubles had been raised by the \nhardness of my heart and the doubtings of my own \nsincerity ; but now all these began to vanish, and never \nmuch returned to this day. And, instead of these, I \nwas now assaulted with more pernicious temptations; \nespecially to question the certain truth of the sacred \nScriptures ; and also the life to come, and the immor- \ntality of the soul. And these temptations assaulted me, \nnot as they do the melancholy, with horrid vexing im- \nportunity ; but, by pretence of sober reason, they would \nhave drawn me to a settled doubting of Christianity. \n\" And here I found my own miscarriage and the \ngreat mercy of God. My miscarriage, in that I had so \nlong neglected the well settling of the foundations on \nwhich I rested, while I had bestowed so much time \nin the superstructure and the applicatory part. For, \nnot daring to question the truth of the Scriptures and \nthe life to come, I had either taken it for a certainty \nupon trust, or taken up with common reasons of it, \nwhich I had never well considered, digested, or made \nmy own ; insomuch, that when this temptation came, \nit seemed at first to answer and enervate all the for- \nmer reasons of my feeble faith, which made me take \nthe Scriptures for the word of God ; and it set before me \nsuch mountains of difficulty in the incarnation, the \nperson of Christ, his undertaking and performance, \nwith the scripture chronology, histories, style, &c. as \nhad overwhelmed me, if God had not been my strength. \nAnd here I saw much of the mercy of God, that he let \nnot out these terrible and dangerous temptations upon \n\n\n\n23 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nme white I was weak and in the infancy of my faith; \nfor then I had never been able to withstand them. Bui \nfaith is like a tree whose top is small while the root is \nyoung and shallow; and therefore, as then it has but \nsmall rooting, so it is not liable to the shaking winds \nand tempests as the large and high-grown trees are; but, \nas the top rises higher, so the root at once grows \ngreater and deeper fixed, to cause it to endure its \ngreater assaults. \n\n\" Though formerly I was wont, when any such \ntemptation came, to cast it aside, as fitter to be abhor- \nred than considered, yet now this would not give me \nsatisfaction; but I was disposed to dig to the very \nfoundations, and seriously to examine the reasons of \nChristianity, and to give a hearing to all that could be \nsaid against it, that so my faith might be indeed my \nown. And at last I found that ' Nothing is so firmly \nbelieved as that which has been some time doubted.' \n\n\" In the storm of this temptation, I questioned awhile \nwhether I were indeed a Christian or an infidel, and \nwhether faith could consist with such doubts as I was \nconscious of. For I had read, in the works of papists \nand protestants, that faith had certainty, and was more \nthan an opinion ; and that, if a man should live a god \nly life, from the bare apprehensions of the probability \nof the truth of Scripture and the life to come, it would \nnot save him, as being no true godliness or faith. But \nmy judgment closed with the reason of Dr. Jackson r s \ndetermination of this case, which supported me much ; \nthat as in the very assenting act of faith there may be \nsuch weakness as ma}' make us cry — ' Lord, increase \nour faith: we believe; Lord, help our belief;' so, \nwhen faith and unbelief are in their conflict, it is the \neffects which must show us which of them is victo- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 29 \n\nrious. And that he that has so much faith as will cause \nhim to deny himself, take up his cross, and forsake all \nthe profits, honors, and pleasures of this world, for \nthe sake of Christ, the love of God, and the hope of \nglory, has a saving faith, how weak soever. For God \ncannot condemn the soul that truly loves and seeks \nhim ; and those that Christ brings to persevere in the \nlove of God, he brings to salvation. And there were \ndivers things that, in this assault, proved great assist- \nances to my faith.\" \n\n\"From this assault I was forced to take notice that \nour belief of the truth of the word of God, and the life \nto come, is the spring of all grace; and with which it \nrises or falls, flourishes or decays, is actuated or stands \nstill : and that there is more of this secret unbelief at \nthe root than most of us are aware of; and that our \nlove of the world, our boldness in sin, our neglect of \nduty, are caused hence. I observed easily in myself, \nthat if at any time Satan, more than at other times, \nweakened my belief of Scripture and the life to come, \nmy zeal in every religious duty abated with it, and I \ngrew more indifferent in religion than before. I was \nmore inclined to conformity in those points which I \nhad taken to be sinful, and was ready to think, Why \nshould I be singular, and offend the bishops and other \nsuperiors, and make myself contemptible in the world, \nand expose myself to censures, scorns and sufferings, \nand all for such little things as these, when the foun- \ndations themselves have such great difficulties as I am \nunable to overcome? But when faith revived, then \nnone of the parts or concerns of religion seemed small ; \nand then man seemed nothing, and the world a shadow, \nand God was all. \n\n\"In the beginning, I doubted not of the truth of the \nL. b. 3* \n\n\n\n30 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nHoly Scriptures, or of the life to come, because I saw \nnot the difficulties which might cause doubting. After \nthat, I saw them, and I doubted, because I saw not \nthat which should satisfy the mind against them. \nSince that, having seen both difficulties and evidences, \nthough I am not so unmolested as at the first, yet is \nmy faith, I hope, much stronger, and far better able \nto repel the temptations of Satan, and the sophisms of \ninfidels, than before. But yet it is my daily prayer that \nGod would increase my faith, and give my soul a clear \nsight of the evidences of his truth, and of himself, and \nof the invisible world.\" \n\nNor was Baxter exempt from slander: his moral \ncharacter was assailed by base and unfounded calum- \nnies. These he was enabled successfully to refute. His \nchief calumniator was obliged to confess that the \ncharges were fabrications, and to beg his forgiveness ; \nwhich was freely given. \n\nThe trials of ministers are frequently of a painful \ncharacter, but, like those of private Christians, \" they \nwork together for good.\" They are over-ruled, not \nonly for their personal benefit, but for the edification \nof their fiocks. \" If their sufferings abound, so do their \nconsolations also,\" and that in order to their being the \ncomforters of others. 2 Cor. 1 : 1-5. \n\nBaxter entered on his work with spirit and zeal ; nor \nwas he suffered to labor long without witnessing bless- \ned results in the conversion of sinners to God. At first \nhe used to register the names, characters, &c. of his \nconverts ; but they became, at length, so numerous, that \nhe discontinued the practice. \n\nHe continued successfully discharging his ministe- \nrial and pastoral labors for nearly two years, when the \ncivil wars (growing out of a rupture between the kins; \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 31 \n\nand his parliament) threw the whole country into con- \nfusion. His situation, though he was no partizan, was \ncritical and dangerous. He was at length advised by \nhis friends to retire from Kidderminster till public af- \nfairs should assume a more peaceable aspect. The im- \nmediate occasion of his leaving, he thus describes • \n\n\" About that time the parliament sent down an or- \nder for the demolishing of all statues and images of \nany of the three persons in the blessed Trinity, or of \nthe virgin Mary, which should be found in churches, \nor on the crosses in churchyards. My judgment was \nfor the obeying of this order, thinking it came from \njust authority; but I meddled not in it, but left the \nchurchwarden to do what he thought good. The \nchurchwarden, an honest, sober, quiet man, seeing a \ncrucifix upon the cross in the churchyard, set up a \nladder to have reached it, but it proved too short: \nwhilst he was gone to seek another, a crew of the \ndrunken riotous party of the town, poor journeymen \nand servants, took the alarm, and ran together with \nweapons to defend the crucifix and the church images, \nof which there were many remaining since the time of \npopery. The report was among them that I was the ac- \ntor, and it was me they sought ; but I was walking al- \nmost a mile out of town, or else, I suppose, I had there \nended my days. When they missed me and the church- \nwarden both, they went raving about the streets to seek \nus. Two neighbors that dwelt in other parishes, hearing \nthat they sought my life, ran in among them to see \nwhether I were there, and they knocked them both \ndown in the streets; and both of them are since dead, \nand, I think, never perfectly recovered of the wounds \nthen received. When they had foamed about half an \nhour, and met with none of us, I came in from my \n\n\n\n32 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nwalk, and hearing the people cursing at me in their \ndoors, I wondered what the matter was, but quickly- \nfound how fairly I had escaped. The next Lord's day \nI dealt plainly with them, and laid open to them the \nquality of that action, and told them, seeing they so \nrequited me as to seek my blood, I was willing to \nleave them, and save them from that guilt. But the \npoor sots were so amazed and ashamed that they took \non sorrily, and were reluctant to part with me. \n\n\" About this time the king's declarations were read \nin our market-place, and the Reader, a violent country \ngentleman, seeing me pass the streets, stopped, and \nsaid, ' There goes a traitor,' without ever giving a syl- \nlable of reason for it. \n\n\" And the commission of array was set afoot, for \nthe parliament meddled not with the militia of that \ncounty, Lord Howard, their lieutenant, not appearing. \nThen the rage of the rioters grew greater than before. \nAnd in preparation for the war, they had got the word \namong them — 'Down with the roundheads;' insomuch \nthat if a stranger passed in many places, that had short \nhair and a civil habit, the rabble presently cried, ' Down \nwith the roundheads ;' and some they knocked down \nin the open streets. \n\n\" In this fury of the rabble I was advised to with- \ndraw awhile from home; whereupon I went to Glou- \ncester. As I passed but through a corner of the sub- \nurbs of Worcester, they that knew me not cried, ' Down \nwith the roundheads ;' and I was glad to spur on and \nbegone. But when I came to Gloucester, among stran- \ngers also that had never known me, I found a civil, \ncourteous, and religious people, as different from Wor- \ncester as if they had lived under another government.\" \n\n\" When I had been at Gloucester a month, my neigh- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 33 \n\nbors of Kidderminster came for me home, and told me \nthat if I stayed any longer the people would interpret \nit either that I was afraid, upon some guilt, or that I \nwas against the king; so I bid my host, Mr. Darney, \nthe town-clerk, and my friends, farewell, and never \nwent to Gloucester more. \n\n\" For myself, I knew not what course to take. To \nlive at home I was uneasy ; but especially now, when \nsoldiers, on one side or other, would be frequently \namong us, and we must be still at the mercy of every \nfurious beast that would make a prey of us. I had \nneither money nor friends. I knew not who would \nreceive me in any place of safety ; nor had I any thing \nto satisfy them for my diet and entertainment. Here- \nupon I was persuaded, by one that was with me, to go \nto Coventry, where one of my old acquaintance was \nminister, Mr. Simon King, some time schoolmaster at \nBridgnorth. So thither I went, with a purpose to stay \nthere till one side or other had got the victory, and \nthe war was ended, and then to return home. \n\n\"Whilst I was thinking what course to take, the \ncommittee and governor of the city desired me that I \nwould stay with them, and lodge in the governor's \nhouse, and preach to the soldiers. The offer suited \nwell with my necessities, but I resolved that I would \nnot be chaplain to the regiment, nor take a commis- \nsion ; but, if the mere preaching of a sermon once or \ntwice a week to the garrison would satisfy them, I \nwould accept of the offer, till I could go home again. \nHere I lived in the governor's house, and followed my \nstudies as quietly as in a time of peace, for about a \nyear, only preaching once a week to the soldiers, and \nonce on the Lord's day to the people, not taking from \nany of them a penny for either, save my diet only.\" \n\n\n\n34 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nThe war continued with unabated fury and severity \nDuring his stay at Coventry lie was invited by Crom- \nwell to become chaplain to his troops which lay at \nCambridge. This invitation he declined ; but some time \nafter, on learning the state of the army and the pros- \npects of usefulness among the soldiers, at the solicita- \ntion of Captain Evanson, he became chaplain to Colo \nnel Whalley's regiment, and left his quarters at Coven- \ntry, to the deep and universal regret of the residents in \nthe garrison. \n\nOn joining his regiment he writes: \n\n\"I set myself, from day to day, to find out the cor- \nruptions of the soldiers, and to adapt my discourses \nand conversation to their mistakes, both religious and \npolitical. My life among them was a daily contending \nagainst seducers, and gently arguing with the more \ntractable.\" \n\nHis \"efforts to do good\" were unremitting. His \ntime was occupied \" in preaching, conference, and dis- \nputing against confounding errors,\" and in directing \nand comforting believers under the difficulties and pe- \nrils of the times. His success, however, did not eqiud \nhis expectations: party spirit ran exceedingly high ; \nthe soldiers were divided in their religious opinions; \nthe camp afforded but few facilities for collecting any \nconsiderable numbers together, and besides, was con \nstantly changing its position, according to the direc- \ntion of war. And probably his desire to reconcile their \nreligious differences, and to unite them under our re- \nligious discipline, led him more frequently to dispute \nthan to preach, to dwell more on the details and minu- \ntiae of the Gospel than on its essential truths; to labor \nas though they were at peace and had time for punc- \ntilios, rather than as being in a state of war, and in \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. S5 \n\ndanger every hour of being hurried into eternity. \nThese, with other untoward circumstances, contribu- \nted to diminish the probability of success, but at the \nsame time to illustrate the zeal, the piety, and the per- \nseverance of the conscientious chaplain. He was never \nin any engagement, nor took part, personally, in any \ncontests, though present at some sieges. \n\nAfter the fatal battle of Worcester, with health en- \nfeebled by his excessive exertions in the army, he vi- \nsited his old flock at Kidderminster, and thence pro- \nceeded to London for medical advice. His physician \ndirected him to visit Tunbridge Weils, and try the \nefficacy of its waters. With this advice he complied. \nHis health was in consequence improved, and in due \ntime he returned to his quarters in Worcestershire, \nwhere the army still lay. \n\nIn all his peregrinations with the army and other- \nwise, he preached in most of the churches in the towns \nthrough which he passed ; and no doubt can be enter- \ntained that his earnest, affectionate, and faithful preach- \ning was attended with important results. \n\nWhile staying at the house of Sir John Cook, Mel- \nborne, Derbyshire, he was seized with a violent bleed- \ning at the nose, which so reduced his strength that \nhis case was considered almost hopeless. His counte- \nnance was so altered as scarcely to be recognized by \nhis most intimate friends. As soon as he could re- \nmove, he visited a friend in Leicestershire, where he \nremained three weeks in an exhausted state. In this \nstate he was invited by his friends Sir Thomas and Lady \nRous to take lodgings at their mansion. Thither he \nwas conveyed, and experienced the greatest kindness \nand attention. At the end of three months, having re- \ncovered his strength, he returned to Kidderminster. \n\n\n\n36 LtFfi OF BAXTER. \n\nDuring this period of sickness and retirement from \npublic labors; he was anxious to be useful, and to be \nrestored, if agreeable to the Divine will, that his use- \nfulness might be increased. He states .concerning \nhimself, \"Being conscious that my time had not been \nimproved to the service of God as I wished it had been, \nI put up many an earnest prayer to God that he would \nrestore me, and use me more successfully in his work. \nAnd, blessed be that mercy which heard my groans in \nthe day of my distress, and granted my desires, and \nwrought my deliverance, when men and means fail- \ned, and gave me opportunity to celebrate his praise.'^ \n\nIt was during this affliction that he wrote his cele- \nbrated work, \"the Saints' Everlasting Rest:\"* a work} \nthe usefulness of which no mortal can estimate. It was \na blessing to the age in which he lived, and will con- \ntinue to be so to the remotest ages of time. Had he \nlived only to write this work, his name would have \nbeen held in \"everlasting remembrance.\" \n\nHis own account of the origin and progress of the \nwork is interesting. \" The second book which I wrote, \nand the first which I began, was that called 'The \nSaints' Everlasting Rest.' Whilst I was in health, 1 \nhad not the least thought of writing books, or of serv- \ning God in anymore public way than preaching: but, \nwhen I was weakened with great bleeding, and left \nsolitary in my chamber, at Sir John Cook's, in Derby- \nhhire, without any acquaintance but my servant about \nme, and was sentenced to death by the physicians, I \nbegan to contemplate more seriously the everlasting \nrest which I apprehended myself to be just on the \nborders of. And that my thoughts might not too \n\n/ * Published by the American Tract Society \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 37 \n\nmuch scatter in my meditation, I began to write some- \nthing on that subject, intending but a quantity of a \nsermon or two, but being continued long in weakness, \nwhere I had no books, and no better employment, I \npursued it, till it was enlarged to the bulk in which \nit is published. The first three weeks I spent in it was \nat Mr. Nowel's, in Leicestershire ; a quarter of a year \nmore, at the seasons which so great weakness would \nallow, I bestowed on it at the house of Sir Thomas \nRous, in Worcestershire ; and I finished it, shortly \nafter, at Kidderminster. The first and last parts were \nfirst done, being all that I intended for my own use ; \nand the second and third parts were written afterwards, \nDeyond my first intention. \n\nThis book it pleased God so far to bless to the profit \nof many, that it encouraged me to be guilty of all those \nwritings which afterwards followed. The marginal ci- \ntations I put in after I came home to my books; but \nalmost all the book itself was written when I had no \noook but a Bible and a concordance. And I found that \nthe transcript of the heart has the greatest force on the \nhearts of others. For the good that I have heard that \nmultitudes have received by that book, and the benefit \nwhich I have again received by their prayers, I here \nnumbly return my thanks to Him that compelled me \no write it.\" \n\nAnticipating that some objection might be made in \nrespect to its style, he says, in his dedication of the \nwork to the people of Kidderminster, \" It is no won- \nder, therefore, if I am too abrupt in the beginning, see- \ning I then intended but the length of a sermon or two. \nMuch less may you wonder if the whole is very im- \nperfect, seeing it was written, as it were, with one foot \nin the grave, by a man that was betwixt living and \n\na Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n38 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ndead, that wanted strength of nature to quicken inven- \ntion or affection, and had no book but his Bible until \nthe chief part was finished, nor had any regard to hu- \nman ornaments. But, O how sweet is this providence \nnow to my review ! that so happily forced me to the \nwork of meditation, which I had formerly found so pro- \nfitable to my soul ! and showed me more mercy in de- \npriving me of other helps than I was aware of ! and \nhas caused my thoughts to feed on this heavenly sub- \nject, which has more benefited me than all the studies \nof my life !\" \n\nOn his recovery he received a pressing invitation to \nreturn to his old charge at Kidderminster, which he \ninstantly and cordially accepted. He was devotedly \nattached to his people, and considered himself bound \nto resist all attempts to procure his services in other \nplaces. He thus affectionately writes to \" his beloved \nfriends :\" \" If either I or my labors have any public use \nor worth, it is wholly, though not only yours ; and I \nam convinced, by providence, that it is the will of God \nit should be so. This I clearly discerned on my first \ncoming to you, in my former abode with you, and in \nthe time of my forced absence from you. When I was \nseparated by the miseries of the late unhappy wars, I \ndurst not fix in any other congregation, but lived in a \nmilitary unpleasing state, lest I should forestall my re- \nturn to you, for whom I conceived myself reserved. \nThe offer of great worldly accommodations, with five \ntimes the means I receive with you, was no temptation \nto me once to question Avhether I should leave you \nYour free invitation of my return, your obedience to \nmy doctrine, the strong affection I have yet towards \nyou, above all people, and the general hearty return of \nlo^e which I find from you, do all persuade me that \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 39 \n\nI was sent into the world especially for the service oi \nyour souls.\" \n\nHe resumed his labors under great bodily weakness, \n\" being seldom an hour free from pain.\" He was sub- \nject to repeated attacks, from which he recovered, ac- \ncording to his own account, chiefly through the inter- \ncessions and fervent prayers of his friends. \" Many a \ntime have I been brought very low, and received the \nsentence of death in myself, when my poor, honest, \npraying neighbors have met, and, upon their fasting \nand earnest prayers, I have recovered. Once, when \nI had continued very feeble three weeks, and was un- \nable to go abroad, the very day that they prayed for \nme I recovered, and was able to preach on the follow- \ning Sabbath, and administered the Lord's supper; and \nwas better after it, it being the first time that ever I \nadministered it. And ever after that, whatever weak- \nness was upon me, when I had, after preaching, ad- \nministered that ordinance to many hundred people, I \nwas much revived and eased of my infirmities.\" \n\n\" O how often,\" he writes in his ' Dying Thoughts,' \n\" have I cried to Him, when men and means were no- \nthing, and when no help in second causes appeared ; \nand how often, and suddenly, and mercifully has he \ndelivered me ! What sudden ease, what removal of \nlong affliction have I had ! Such extraordinary changes, \nbeyond my own and others' expectations, when many \nplain-hearted, upright Christians have, by fasting and \nprayer, sought God on my behalf, as have over and \nover convinced me of a special providence, and that \nGod is indeed a hearer of prayer. And wonders have \nI seen done for others also, upon such prayer, more \nthan for myself: yea, and wonders for the church, and \nfor public societies.\" \" Shall I therefore forget how \n\n\n\n40 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\noften he has heard prayers for me? and how wonder- \nfull} 7 he often has helped both me and others; my \nfaith has been helped by such experiences, and shall I \nforget them, or question them without cause at last V- \n\nBaxter relates several extraordinary instances of an \nswers to prayer, in the recovery and preservation both \nof himself and friends. He was attentive in seeking \nsuch blessings, and in observing such circumstances; \nand, as an old divine justly observes, \" they that watch \nprovidence shall never want a providence to watch.\" \nHaving now brought down Baxter's life to the period \nwhen he settled again amongst his old iriends, and re- \nsumed his accustomed labors, it will be desirable to \nntroduce, in an abridged form, his own account of his \n\" employments, success, and advantages,\" during his \nfourteen years' continuance among them. \n\nI. Employments. \n\n\"I preached, before the wars, twice each Lord's \nday ; but, after the war, but once, and once every \nThursday, besides occasional sermons. Every Thurs- \nday evening, my neighbors that were most desirous, \nand had opportunity, met at my house, and there one \nof them repeated the sermon ; and afterwards they pro- \nposed what doubts any of them had about the sermon, \nor any other case of conscience, and I resolved their \ndoubts. And, last of all, I caused sometimes one, and \nsometimes another of them to pray, sometimes praying \nwith them myself. Once a week, also, some of the \n' young who were not prepared to pray in so great an \nassembly, met among a few more privately, whe're \nthey spent three hours in prayer together. Every Sa- \nturday night they met at some of their houses to repeat \nthe sermon of the last Lord's day, and to pray and pre- \npare themselves for the following day. Once in a few \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 4l \n\nweeks we had a day of humiliation, on one occasion \nor other. Two days every week my assistant and my- \nself took fourteen families between us for private ca- \ntechising and conference ; he going through the parish, \nand the town coming to me. I first heard them r?cite \nthe words of the catechism, and then examined them \nabout the sense, and lastly urged them, with all possi- \nble engaging reason and vehemence, to answerable af- \nfection and practice. If any of them were perplexed \nthrough ignorance or bashfulness, I forbore to press \nthem any farther to answers, but made them hearers, \nand either examined others, or turned all into instruc- \ntion and exhortation. But this, I have opened more \nfully in my ' Reformed Pastor.' I spent about an hour \nwith a family, and admitted no others to be present, \nlest bashfulness should make it burdensome, or any \nshould talk of the weaknesses of others. So that all \nthe afternoons, on Mondays and Tuesdays, I spent \nin this, after I had begun it ; for it was many years be- \nfore I attempted it ; and my assistant spent the morn- \nings of the same days in the same employment, Be- \nfore that, I only catechised them in the church, and \nconferred with, now and then one occasionally. \n\n\" Besides all this, I was forced five or six years, by \nthe people's necessity, to practise physic. A common \npleurisy happening one year, and no physician being \nnear, I was forced to advise them, to save their lives ; \nand I could not afterwards avoid the importunity of \nthe town and country round about. And because 1 \nnever once took a penny of any one, I was crowded \nwith patients, so that almost twenty would be at my \ndoor at once ; and though Godj by more success than \nI expected, so long encouraged me, yet, at last, I could \nendure it no longer ; partly because it hindered my \n\nL. JB. 4* \n\n\n\n42 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nother studies, and partly because the very fear of mis- \ncarrying and doing any one harm, made it an intolera- \nble burden to me. So that, after some years' practice, \nI procured a godly diligent physician to come and live \nin tw\\vn, and bound myself, by promise, to practise no \nmore, unless in consultation with him in case of any \nseeming necessity. And so with that answer I turned \nthem all oft\", and never meddled with it more.\" \n\n2. Success. \n\n\" I have mentioned my sweet and acceptable em- \nployment ; let me, to the praise of my gracious Lord, \nacquaint you with some of my success. And I will not \nsuppress it, though I foreknow that the malignant will \nimpute the mention of it to pride and ostentation. For \nit is the sacrifice of thanksgiving which I owe to my \nmost gracious God, which I will not deny him for fear \nof being censured as proud, lest I prove myself proud \nindeed, while I cannot undergo the imputation of pride \nin the offering of my thanks for such undeserved \nmercies. \n\n\" My public preaching met with an attentive, dili- \ngent auditory. Having broke over the brunt of the op- \nposition of the rabble before the wars, I found them \nafterwards tractable and unprejudiced. \n\n\" Before I ever entered into the ministry, God bless \ned my private conference to the conversion of some, \nwho remain firm and eminent in holiness to this day. \nThen, and in the beginning of my ministry, I was \nwont to number them as jewels ; but since then I could \nnot keep any number of them. \n\n\" The congregation was usually full, so that we \nwere led to build five galleries after my coming thi- \nther, the church itself being very capacious, and the \nmost commodious and convenient that ever I was in. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 43 \n\nOur private meetings ftlso were full. On the Lord's \nday there was no disorder to be seen in the streets, \nbut you might hear a hundred families singing psalms \nand repeating sermons, as you passed through the \nstreets. In a word, when I came thither first, there \nwas about one family in a street that worshipped God \nand called on his name ; and when I came away, there \nwere some streets where there was not more than one \nfamily in the side of a street that did not so ; and that \ndid not, in professing serious godliness, give us hopes \nof their sincerity. And of those families which were \nthe worst, being inns and ale-houses, usually some per- \nsons in each house did seem to be religious. Though \nour administration of the Lord's supper was so order- \ned as displeased many, and the far greater part kept \nthemselves away, yet we had six hundred that were \ncommunicants, of whom there were not twelve that I \nhad not good hopes of, as to their sincerity ; and those \nfew that came to our communion, and yet lived scan- \ndalously, were excommunicated afterwards. And I \nhope there were many who feared God that came not \nto our communion, some of them being kept off by \nhusbands, by parents, by masters, and some dissuaded \nby men that differed from us. \n\n\" When I commenced personal conference with each \nfamily and catechising them, there were very few fa- \nmilies in all the town that remsed to come ; and those \nfew were beggars at the town's ends, who were so ig- \nnorant that they were ashamed it should be manifest. \nAnd few families went from me without some tears, or \nseemingly serious promises for a godly life. Yet many \nignorant and ungodly persons there were still among \nus ; but most of them were in the parish, and not in \nthe town, and in those parts of the parish which, were \n\n\n\n44 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nfarthest from the town. Some of the poor men com- \npetently understood the body of divinity, and were \nable to judge in difficult controversies. Some of them \nwere so able in prayer, that very few ministers equalled \nthem in order and fullness, apt expressions, holy ora- \ntory, and fervency. A great number of them were able \nto pray very appropriately with their families, or with \nothers. The temper of their minds, and the correct- \nness of their lives, were even more commendable than \ntheir talents. The professors of serious godliness were \ngenerally of very humble minds and carriage ; of meek \nand quiet behavior towards others ; and blameless in \ntheir conversation. \n\n\" And in my poor endeavors with my brethren in \nthe ministry, my labors were not lost. Our discussions \nproved not unprofitable ; our meetings were never con- \ntentious, but always comfortable. We took great de- \nlight in the company of each other ; so that I know \nthe remembrance of those days is pleasant both to them \nand me. When discouragements had long kept me \nfrom proposing a way of church order and discipline \nwhich all might agree in, that we might neither have \nchurches ungoverned, nor fall into divisions among \nourselves at the first mention of it, I found a readier \nconsent than I could expect, and all went on without \nany great difficulties. And when I attempted to bring \nthem all conjointly to the work of catechising and in- \nstructing every family by itself, I found a ready con- \nsent in most, and performance in many. So that I \nmust here, to the praise of my dear Redeemer, set up \nthis pillar of remembrance, even to his praise who \nhath employed me so many years in so comfortable a \nwork, with such encouraging success! O what am I, \na worthless worm, not only wanting academical ho- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 45 \n\nnors, but much of that furniture which is needful to so \nhigh a work, that God should thus abundantty encou- \nrage me, when the reverend instructors of my youth \nlabored fifty years together in one place, and could \nscarcely say they had been instrumental in the con- \nversion of even one or two of their hearers. And the \ngreater was this mercy, because I was naturally of a \ndesponding spirit ; so that if I had preached one year, \nand seen no fruits of it, I should hardly have forborne \nrunning away like Jonah, but should have thought \nthat God called me not to that place.\" \n\n3. Advantages. \n\n\" Having related my encouraging successes in this \nplace, I shall next tell you by what and how many \nadvantages so much was effected, under that grace \nwhich worketh by means, though with a free diversi- \nty ; which I do for the help of others in managing ig- \nnorant and sinful people. \n\n\" One advantage was, that I came to a people that \nnever had any awakening ministry before. For if they \nhad been hardened under a powerful ministry, and \nbeen sermon proof, I should have expected less. \n\n\" Another advantage w r as, that at first I was in the \nvigor of my spirits, and had naturally a familiar mov- \ning voice, which is a great matter with the common \nhearers ; and doing all in bodily weakness, as a dying \nman, my soul was the more easily brought to serious- \nness, and to preach as a dying man to dying men ; for \ndrowsy formality does but stupify the hearers and \nrock them asleep. It must be serious preaching which \nmakes men serious in hearing and obeying it.\" \n\n\" Another advantage which I had was, the accepta \ntion of my person. Though to win estimation and \nlove to ourselves only, be an end that none but proud \n\n\n\n46 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nmen and hypocrites intend, yet it is most certain that \nthe acceptableness of the person ingratiates the message, \nand greatly prepares the people to receive the truth. \nHad they taken me to be ignorant, erroneous, scanda- \nlous, worldly, self-seeking, or such like, I'could have \nexpected small success among them. \n\n\" Another advantage which I had was through the \nzeal and diligence of the godly people of the place, who \nthirsted after the salvation of their neighbors, and were, \nin private, my assistants; and being dispersed through \nthe town, they were ready, in almost all companies, \nto repress seducing words, and to justify godliness, and \nconvince, reprove, and exhort men according to their \nneeds ; and also to teach them how to pray, and to \nhelp them to sanctify the Lord's day. Those people \nthat had none in their families who could pray or re- \npeat the sermons, went to the houses of their neigh- \nbors who could do it, and joined with them ; so that \nsome houses of the ablest men in each street were filled \nwith them that could do nothing or little in their own. \n\n\" And the holy, humble, blameless lives of the reli- \ngious was a great advantage to me. The malicious peo- \nple could not say, Your professors here are as proud \nand covetous as any. But the blameless lives of godly \npeople shamed opposers, and put to silence the igno- \nrance of foolish men, and many were won by their \ngood conversation.\" \n\n\"Our private meetings were a marvellous help to \nthe propagating of godliness among them ; for thereby \ntruths that slipped away were recalled, and the seri- \nousness of the people's minds renewed, and good de \nsires cherished ; and hereby their knowledge was much \nincreased ; and here the younger Christians learned \nto pray, by frequently hearing others. And here I had \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 47 \n\nopportunity to know their case ; for if any were touch- \ned and awakened in public, I would presently see them \ndrop in to our private meetings.\" \n\n\" Another furtherance of my work was the works \nwhich I wrote and distributed among them. Of some \nsmall books I gave each family one, which came to \nabout eight hundred ; of the larger I gave fewer ; and \nto every family that was poor, and had not a Bible, I \ngave a Bible. I had found, myself, the benefit of read- \ning to be so great, that I could not but think it would \nbe profitable to others. \n\n\" And it was a great advantage to me, that my neigh ■ \nbors were of such a trade as allowed them time enough \nto read or talk of holy things ; for the town liveth upon \nthe weaving of Kidderminster stuffs, and as they stand \nin their loom they can set a book before them, or edify \none another.\" \n\n\" And I found that my single life afforded ine much \nadvantage ; for I could the more easily take my people \nfor my children, and think all that I had too little for \nthem, in that I had no children of my own to tempi \nme to another way of using it. And being discharged \nfrom the most of family cares, keeping but one ser- \nvant, I had the more time and liberty for the labors of \nmy calling. \n\n\" And God made use of my practice of physic among \nthem as a very great advantage to my ministry; for \nthey that cared not for their souls, loved their lives \nand cared for their bodies. And by this they were \nmade almost as observant as a tenant is of his land- \nlord. Sometimes I could see before me in the church \na very considerable part of the congregation, whose \nlives God had made me a means to save, or to recover \n\n\n\n48 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ntheir health ; and doing it for nothing, so obliged them, \nthat they would readily hear me. \n\n\"And it was a great advantage to me, that there \nwere at last few that were bad, who had not some of \ntheir own relations converted. Many children were \nsubjects of God's grace at fourteen, or fifteen, or sixteen \nyears of age; and this did marvellously reconcile the \nminds of their parents to godliness. They that would \nnot hear me, would hear their own children. They \nthat before could have talked against godliness, would \nnot hear it spoken against when it was^heir children's \ncase. Many that would not be brought to it themselves, \nwere gratified that they had intelligent religious chil- \ndren. And we had some persons near eighty years of \nage, who are, I hope, in heaven, and the conversion of \ntheir own children was the chief means to overcome \ntheir prejudice, and old customs, and conceits. \n\n\" And God made great use of sickness to do good to \nmany. For though sick-bed promises are usually soon \nforgotten, yet was it otherwise with many among us ; \nand as soon as they were recovered, they first came \nto our private meetings, and so kept in a learning state, \ntill further fruits of piety appeared.\" \n\n\"Another of my great advantages was, the true \nworth and unanimity of the honest ministers of the \ncountry round about us, who associated in a way of \nconcord with us. Their preaching was powerful and \nsober; their spirits peaceable and meek, disowning the \ntreasons and iniquities of the times, as well as we ; they \nwere wholly devoted to the winning of souls ; self- \ndenying, and of most blameless lives; evil spoken of \nby no sober men, but greatly beloved by their own \npeople and all that knew them ; adhering to no fac* I \ntion ; neither Episcopal, Presbyterian, nor Independ- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 49 \n\nent, as to parties ; but desiring union, and loving that \nwhich is good, in all.\" \n\n\" Another great help to my success at last, was the \nbefore described work of personal conference with \nevery family apart, and catechising and instructing \nthem. That which was spoken to them personally \nand sometimes drew forth their answers, awakened \ntheir attention, and was more easily applied than pub- \nlic preaching, and seemed to do much more upon them. \n\n\" And the exercise of church discipline was no small \nfurtherance of the people's good ; for I found plainly, \nthat without it I could not have kept the more spiritual \nfrom separations and divisions. There is something \ngenerally in their dispositions which inclines them to \nseparate from open ungodly sinners, as men of ano- \nther nature and society ; and if they had not seen me \ndo something reasonable for a regular separation of the \nnotorious obstinate sinners from the rest, they would \nhave withdrawn themselves irregularly ; and it would \nnot have been in my power to satisfy them.\" \n\n\" Another means of success was, directing my in \nstructions to them in a suitableness to the main end, \nand yet so as might suit their dispositions and diseases. \nI daily opened to them, and with the greatest impor- \ntunity labored to imprint upon their minds the great \nfundamental principles of Christianity, even a right \nknowledge and belief of, and subjection and love to \nGod the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; and \nlove to all men, and concord with the church and one \nanother. I daily so inculcated the knowledge of God \nour Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, and love and \nobedience to God, and unity with the spiritual church, \nand love to men, and hope of life eternal, that these \nwere the matter of their daily thoughts and discourses \n\nc Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n50 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nand indeed their religion. And yet I usually put some- \nthing in my sermon which was above their own dis- \ncovery, and which they had not known before ; and \nthis I did, that they might be kept humble, and still \nperceive their ignorance, and be willing to keep in a \nlearning state. And I did this also to increase their \nknowledge and make religion pleasant to them, by a \ndaily addition to their former light, and to draw them \non with desire and delight. But these things which \nthey did not know before, were not unprofitable con- \ntroversies, which tended not to edification, nor novel- \nties in doctrine, contrary to the universal church ; but \neither such points as tended to illustrate the great doc- \ntrines before-mentioned, or usually about the right me- \nthodizing of them ; as the opening of the true and pro- \nfitable method of the creed or doctrine of faith, the Lord's \nprayer or matter of our desires, and the ten command- \nments or law of practice ; which afford matter to add \nto the knowledge of most professors of religion a long \ntime. And when that is done, they must be led on still \nfurther, by degrees, as they are capable ; but so as not \nto leave the weak behind ; and so as shall still be truly \nsubservient to the great points of faith, hope, and love, \nholiness and unity, which must be still inculcated as \nthe beginning and the end of all.\" \n\n\" And it much furthered my success, that I stayed \nstill in this one place near two years before the wars, \nand above fourteen years after ; for he that removeth \noften from place to place, may sow good seed in many \nplaces, but is not likely to see much fruit in any, un- \nless some other skillful hand shall follow him to water \nit. It was a great advantage to me to have almost all \nthe religious people of the place of my own instruct- \ning and informing ; and that they were not formed \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 51 \n\ninto erroneous and factious principles before ; and that \nI stayed to see them grown up to some confirmedness \nand maturity.\" \n\nThese passages strikingly depict the means and ef- \nfects of a revival of religion. Only let love to the Re- \ndeemer burn with quenchless ardor in the breast, and \neternity with its tremendous and unutterable conse- \nquences be distinctly realized j compassion to immor- \ntal spirits infuse its tenderness and solicitude through- \nout the soul j a deep and unfailing sense of ministerial \nresponsibility rest upon the conscience ; then all the \npowers, talents, and influence that can be commanded, \nwill be brought into exercise, and made to bear with \nunceasing energy on the great work of saving immor- \ntal souls, and then the Lord will command his \" bless- \ning, even life for evermore.\" \n\nThe secret of Baxter's success, perhaps, consisted \nprominently in the zeal, affection, and perseverance he \ndisplayed in following his people to their homes. His \nvisits from house to house were for the purpose of ap- \nplying with more close and pungent force the truths \nwhich were taught from the pulpit, or learned in the \nsystematic instructions which were given to families \nand to children. And it is remarkable that his success \nin the earliest period of his ministry was chiefly \namongst the young. In the preface to his work enti- \ntled \" Compassionate Counsel to all Young Men,\" &c. \nhe observes — \"At Kidderminster, where God most \nblessed my labors, my first and greatest success was \nwith the youth : and what was a marvellous way of \ndivine mercy, when God had touched the hearts of \nyoung people, and brought them to the love and obedi- \nence of the truth, the parents and grand-parents who \nhad grown old in an ignorant and worldly state, embrac- \n\n\n\n52 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nfid religion, led by the love of their children, whom \nthey perceived to be made, by it, much wiser and bet- \nter, and more dutiful to them.\" — \" By much experience \nI have been made more sensible of the necessity of \nwarning and instructing youth, than I was before. \nMany say reports have taught it to me : the sad com- \nplaints of mournful parents have taught it me; the \nsad observation of the willful impenitence of some of \nmy acquaintance tells it me; the many scores, if not \nhundreds of bills, that have been publicly put up to me \nto pray for wicked and obstinate children, have told it \nme ; and, by the grace of God, the penitent confes- \nsions, lamentations, and restitutions of many converts, \nhave made me more particularly acquainted with their \ncase ; which moved me for a time, on my Thursday's \nlecture, the first of every month, to speak to youth \nand those that educate them.\" \n\nThe religious education of youth is of infinite im- \nportance to families and to a nation, to the church \nand the world. \n\nThe youthful members of his congregation should \nengage the anxious attention of every pastor. They \nare the hopes of his ministry. With them truth meets \nthe readiest reception. Among them conversion most \nfrequently takes place. From them the most valuable \nmembers of Christian society are obtained. Rising \ninto life, their influence is exerted wholly on the side \nof truth and piety ; and when more matured in years, \ntheir instructions and example benefit and bless their \nfamilies, their connexions, and the world. The con- \nversion of a soul in the period of youth prevents its \nentering on a course of sin, engages it to the practice \nof holiness, ensures the exertion of its influence m be- \nhalf of God and his cause through the whole of its \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTEfi. 53 \n\nearthly being ; and thus a career of happiness begins \nwhich shall >xtend throughout eternity. \n\nIn connection with this statement of Baxter's labors \nand sue ;ss, some notice may be taken of his work \nentitled the \" Reformed Pastor,\" written expressly to \narouse the attention and excite the efforts of the Chris- \ntian ministry to the great work in which he himself \nhad so successfully engaged. His reverend brethren \nhad witnessed the astonishing results of his pastoral \nengagements, and were anxious to make some efforts \nto accomplish among their own people similar results. \nA day of fasting and prayer was appointed by them- \nselves at Worcester, before entering on their untried \nlabors, and Baxter was requested to preach on the oc- \ncasion. He prepared his sermon, but his illness pre- \nvented his preaching. He therefore enlarged his ser- \nmon into a treatise, and published it. Concerning this \nwork he says : \n\n\" I have very great cause to be thankful to God for \nthe suecess of that book, as hoping many thousand \nsouls are the better for it, in that it prevailed with \nmany ministers to set upon that Work which I there \nexhort them to, Even from beyond the seas I have \nhad letters of request to direet them how they might \npromote that work, according as that book had con- \nvinced them that it was their duty, If God would but \nreform the ministry, and set them on their duties \nzealously and faithfully, the people would certainly \nbe reformed. AH churches either rise or fall as the \nministry rise or fall, not in riches and worldly gran- \ndeur, but in knowledge, zeal, and ability for their \nwork.\" \n\nMany and just encomiums have been passed on this \nwork. \"In the whole compass of divinity there is \n\n\n\n54 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nscarcely any thing superior to it, in close pathetic \nappeals to the conscience of the minister of Christ, \nupon the primary duties of his office.\" The editor of \na recent edition justly says, \" Of the excellence of \nthis work it is scarcely possible to speak in too high \nterms. For powerful, pathetic, pungent, and heart- \npiercing address, we know of no work on the pastoral \ncare to be compared with it. Could we suppose it to \nbe read by an angel, or by some other being possessed \nof an unfallen nature, the argumentation and expostu- \nlations of our author would be felt to be altogether \nirresistible: and hard must be the heart of that minis- \nter who can read it without being moved, melted, and \noverwhelmed : hard must be his heart, if he be not \nroused to greater faithfulness, diligence, and activity \nin winning souls to Christ. It is a work worthy of be- \ning printed in letters of gold. It deserves, at least, to \nbe engraven on the heart of every minister. I cannot \nhelp suggesting to the friends of religion that they \ncould not, perhaps, do more good at less expense, than \nby presenting copies of this work to the ministers of \nChrist throughout the country. They are the chief \ninstruments through whom good is to be effected in \nany country. How important, then, must it be to stir \nthem up to holy zeal and activity in the cause of \nthe Redeemer ! A tract given to a poor man may be the \nmeans of his conversion; but a work, such as this, \npresented to a minister, may, through his increased \nfaithfulness and energy, prove the conversion of mul- \ntitudes.\" \n\nIn addition to Baxter's numerous ministerial and \npastoral labors, he was consulted by persons of all \nclasses and professions on the various subjects connect- \ned with church and state, which at that period were- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 55 \n\nhotly and fiercely agitated. His pacific disposition, and \nhis desire to promote universal concord among all re- \nligious parties, were generally known. Hence his ad- \nvice was eagerly sought by all. This must have occu- \npied no small portion of his time, and caused him no \nlittle anxiety. He gives a curious account of his being \nconsulted by Cromwell, and his preaching before him. \n\n\" At this time Lord Broghill and the Earl of Warwick \nbrought me to preach before Cromwell, the protector, \nwhich was the only time that ever I preached to him, \nsave once long before, when he was an inferior man \namong other auditors. I knew not which way to pro- \nvoke him better to his duty, than by preaching on 1 \nCor. 1 : 10, against the divisions and distractions of \nthe church, and showing how mischievous a thing if \nwas for politicans to maintain such divisions for their \nown ends, that they might fish in troubled waters, and \nkeep the church, by its divisions, in a state of weakness, \nlest it should be able to offend them: and to show the \nnecessity and means of union. But the plainness and \nnearness, I heard, was displeasing to him and his cour- \ntiers; yet they bore with it. \n\n\"A while after, Cromwell sent to speak with me; \nand when I came, in the presence only of three of his \nchief men, he began a long and tedious speech to me \nof God's providence in the change of the government, \nand how God had owned it, and what great things had \nbeen done at home and abroad, in the peace with Spain \nand Holland, &e. When he had wearied us all with \nspeaking thus slowly about an hour, I told him it was \ntoo great condescension to acquaint me so fully with \nall these matters which were above me, but that we \ntook our ancient monarchy to be a blessing, and not \nan evil to the land* and humbly craved his patience^ \n\n\n\n56 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthat I might ask him how England had ever forfeited \nthat blessing, and unto whom the forfeiture was made? \nI was led to speak of the species of government only, \nfor they had lately made it treason by a law to speak \nfor the person of the king. Upon that question he was \nawakened into some passion, and told me it was no for \nfeiture, but God had changed it as pleased him ; and \nthen he let fly at the parliament, which thwarted him ; \nand especially by name at four or five of those mem- \nbers who were my chief acquaintance ; and I presumed \nto defend them against his passion ; and thus four or \nfive hours were spent, \n\n\"A few days after, he sent for me again, to hear my \njudgment about liberty of conscience, which he pre- \ntended to be most zealous for, before almost all his pri- \nvy council, where, after another slow, tedious speech \nof his, I told him a little of my judgment.\" \n\nBaxter was also consulted by various private indivi- \nduals on cases of conscience, which he was requested \nto solve. To these he lent a willing ear, and adminis- \ntered suitable advice ; or he replied to them in suitable \nand interesting letters. This must have occupied his \ntime considerably. Besides, during his residence at \nKidderminster, and while pursuing his indefatigable \nlabors among his flock, he wrote and published nearly \nsixty different works, many of them quarto volumes of \nconsiderable size. Among these may be specially enu- \nmerated, in addition to those already noticed, his \"Call \nto the Unconverted,\"* his \"Treatise on Conversion,\" \n\"On Self-denial,\" on \"Crucifying the World,\" on \n\" Peace of Conscience,\" &c. &c. &c. \n\nThese herculean labors seem incredible. But for the \n\n•Published by the American Tract Society. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 57 \n\nexistence of the works themselves, his own declara- \ntions, and the concurring testimony of his several bio- \ngraphers, it would have been deemed impossible that, \nwith his enfeebled health and incessant pain, he could \nhave accomplished so much in so short a time. \n\nHis own account of his general labors shows at once \nhis piety and devotedness, his spirit and energy, his \nzeal and perseverance. He remarks : \n\n\" But all these my labors, except my private con- \nferences with the families, even preaching and prepar- \ning for it, were but my recreations, and, as it were, the \nwork of my spare hours; for my writings were my \nchief daily labor, which yet went the more slowly on, \nthat I never one hour had an amanuensis to dictate to, \nand especially because my weakness took up so much \nof my time. For all the pains that my infirmities ever \nbrought upon me, were never half so grievous an afflic- \ntion to me as the unavoidable loss of my time which \nthey occasioned.\" \n\nHis treatise on \" Self-denial\" originated in his deep \nconviction of the \"breadth,. and length, and depth of \nthe radical, universal, odious sin of selfishness.\" Un- \nder this conviction he preached a series of sermons on \nthe subject, and, at the urgent entreaty of his friends, \nhe published them in the form they now assume. He \nsays that the work \" found better acceptance than \nmost of his others, but yet prevented not the ruin of \nchurch and state, and millions of souls by that sin.\" \n\nPrevious to this he had published his work on \" Con- \nversion.\" This he says \" was taken from plain sermons \nwhich Mr. Baldwin had transcribed out of my notes. \nAnd though I had no leisure, in this or other writings, \nto take much care of the style, nor to add any orna- \nments, or citations of authors, I thought it might better \n\n\n\n58 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\npass as it was, than not at all ; and that i the author \nmissed of the applause of the learned, yet the book \nmight be profitable to the ignorant, as it proved, \nthrough the great mercy of God.\" \n\nApologizing for the plainness and earnestness of his \nmanner, he observes, \" The commonness and the great- \nness of men's necessity commanded me to do any thing \nthat I could for their relief, and to bring forth some \nwater to cast upon this fire, though I had not at hand \na silver vessel to carry it in, nor thought it the most fit. \nThe plainest words are the most profitable oratory in \nthe weightiest matters. Fineness is for ornament, and \ndelicacy for delight ; but they answer not necessity, \nthough sometimes they may modestly attend that which \nanswers it. Yea, when they are conjunct, it is hard for \nthe necessitous hearer or reader to observe the matter \nof ornament and delicacy, and not to be carried from \nthe matter of necessity ; and to hear or read a neat, con- \ncise, sententious discourse, and not to be hurt by it; \nfor it usually hinders the due operation of the matter, \nkeeps it from the heart, stops it in the fancy, and makes \nit seem as light as the style. We use not compliments \nwhen we run to quench a common fire, nor do we call \nmen to escape from it by an eloquent speech. If we \nsee a man fall into fire or water, we regard not the man- \nner of plucking him out, but lay hands upon him as we \ncan, without delay.\" \n\nBaxter's \"Call to the Unconverted\" was made re- \nmarkably useful. He says. \" The occasion of this was \nmy converse with Bishop Usher, while I was at Lon- \ndon, who, much approving my method or directions \nfor peace of conscience, was importunate with me to \nwrite directions suited to the various states of Chris- \ntians and also against particular sins. I reverenced the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 59 \n\nman, but disregarded these persuasions, supposing I \ncould do nothing but what was done as well or better al- \nready. But when he was dead, his words went deeper \nto my mind, and I purposed to obey his counsel] yet \nso as that to the first sort of men, the ungodly, I thought \nvehement persuasions meeter than directions only. \nAnd so for such I published this little book, which \nGod has blessed with unexpected success beyond all \nthe rest that I have written, except the Saints' Rest. \nIn a little more than a year there were about twenty \nthousand of them printed by my own consent, and \nabout ten thousand since, besides many thousands by \nstolen impressions, which men stole for lucre's sake. \nThrough God's mercy I have had information of al- \nmost whole households converted by this small book, \nwhich I set so light by. And as if all this in England, \nScotland, and Ireland were not mercy enough to me, \nGod, since I was silenced, has sent it over on his mes- \nsage to many beyond the seas ; for when Mr. Eliot had \nprinted the Bible in the Indian language, he next \ntranslated this my ' Call to the Unconverted, 3 as he \nwrote to us here.\" \n\nIn addition to its usefulness mentioned by Baxter \nhimself, Dr. Bates relates an instance of six brothers \nbeing converted at one time by this invaluable book. \nTo this work, multitudes now in glory, and many ad- \nvancing thither, stand indebted for their first serious \nimpressions. Urged by its awful denunciations, they \nhave fled from the \" city of destruction ;\" they have \nsought refuge at the cross of Calvary. Like the preach- \ning of John, it awakens, alarms, and terrifies, that it \nmay lead to peace, holiness, and glory, through Christ. \n\nAmong other methods of doing good, Baxter adopt- \ned the plan which is now so generally employed, of \n\n\n\n60 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\npublishing small tracts, broadsheets, or handbills. He \npublished various broadsheets, and had them affixed \nto walls and public buildings, that the attention of pas- \nsengers might be arrested, and that those who had no \nleisure for larger works, or were indisposed to pur- \nchase treatises, might be informed, edified, and saved. \nThis plan he adopted with great success during the \nraging of the plague. \n\nThis was certainly the most active, useful, and im- \nportant period of his life. His labors subsequently to \nthis were of a more chequered, desultory, and less ob- \nvious character. Their results, though undoubtedly \ngreat, inasmuch as he labored with the same zeal, pie- \nty, and devotedness as heretofore, yet could not be \nperceived so manifestly as when his efforts were con- \ncentrated in one spot, and were superintended by his \nuntiring pastoral vigilance. The time of persecution \nfor conscience' sake was at hand. He therefore, in \ncommon wiih multitudes of his brethren, was obliged \nto labor in such places, and on such occasions only, as \nthe providence of God pointed out. But these labors \nwere not in vain, for, as in days of old, they \" that \nwere scattered abroad, went every where preaching \nthe word.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\nHIS ENGAGEMENTS AFTER LEAVING KIDDERMINSTER. \n\nBaxter had acquired great celebrity, both as a \npreacher and writer. He was known, moreover, to be \n\n\n\n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 61 \n\n*n ardent friend to civil and ecclesiastical peace. \nHence he was frequently consulted on these subjects, \niiot only by ministers, but by the higher powers. On \nvarious occasions he went to London, and it would \nseem chiefly on business relating both to the church \nand the nation. Early in April, 1660, he left Kidder- \nminster, and reached London on the 13th of that \nmonth. The reason of his leaving is not stated, but it \nappears evidently to have been in connexion with the \nstate of public affairs. \n\nIt was a saying of Baxter's, that we are \" no more \nchoosers of our employments than of our successes.\" \nThe truth of this observation he was now especially \ncalled to verify by his own experience. On reaching \nLondon he was consulted on the subject of the (king's) \n•' Restoration.\" This event he, in common with multi- \naides of his brethren, was desirous, of seeing accom- \nplished. \n\nThe new parliament appointed a day of fasting and \nprayer, and required Baxter to preach before them on \nthe occasion. This occurred the day before the bill \nwas passed for the return of the exiled monarch. \nShortly after he was called to preach a thanksgiving \nsermon, on Monk's success, at St. Paul's, before the \nlord mayor and aldermen. Neither of the sermons ap- \npear to have given entire satisfaction. His moderate \nviews displeased partizans of all sides : some charged \nhim with sedition ; others with vacillation and tempo- \nrizing in politics. He was, however, a friend to the \nking, and rejoiced in the prospect of his restoration. \nHe used all his efforts to promote its accomplishment. \n\nWhen king Charles was restored, amid the general \nacclamations of the nation, several of the Presbyterian \nministers were made chaplains in ordinary to him, \n\nQ Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n62 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\namong whom was Baxter. His certificate of appoint- \nment to the office is dated June 26, 1660. Various con- \nferences were held by Baxter and his friends, to pro- \nmote a union between episcopacy and presbyterianism. \nA meeting was held on the subject, in the presence of \nCharles, at which Baxter was the chief speaker. His \naddress on the occasion is distinguished alike by its \npiety and fidelity. He was desirous of promoting and \nsecuring the religious liberties of the people, and of \npreventing those measures which he perceived were \ncontemplated to remove many of the most holy and \nzealous preachers from their flocks. The following \npassage from his address to the king shows the efforts \nthat had been made to preserve the Gospel ministry \nduring the commonwealth, and his desire that, under \nthe dominion of their rightful monarch, the same in- \nvaluable privilege might be preserved. \n\n\" I presumed to tell him (his majesty) that the peo- \nple we spake for were such as were contented with an \ninterest in heaven, and the liberty and advantages of the \nGospel to promote it; and if this were taken from them, \nand they were deprived of their faithful pastors, and \nliberty of worshipping God, they would consider them- \nselves undone in this world, whatever plenty else they \nshould enjoy ; and the hearts of his most faithful sub- \njects, who hoped for his help, would even be broken ;' \nand that we doubted not but his majesty desired to \ngovern a people made happy by him, and not a broken- \nhearted people, that considered themselves undone by \nthe loss of that which is dearer to them than all the \nriches of the world. And I presumed to tell him that \nthe late usurpers that were over us, so well understood \ntheir own interest, that, to promote it, they had found \nthis way of doing good to be the most effectual means, \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 63 \n\nand had placed and encouraged many thousand faith- \nful ministers in the church, even such as detested \ntheir usurpation. And so far had they attained their \n' ends hereby, that it was the principal means of their \ninterest in the people, and the good opinion that any \nhad conceived of them ; and those of them that had \ntaken the contrary course, had thereby broken them- \nselves to pieces. Wherefore I humbly craved his ma- \njesty's patience that we might have the freedom to re- \nquest of him that, as he was our lawful king, in whom \nall his people, save a few inconsiderable persons, were \nprepared to centre, as weary of their divisions, and \nglad of the satisfactory means of union in him, so he \nwould be pleased to undertake this blessed work of \npromoting their holiness and concord ; for it was not \nfaction or disobedience which we desired him to in- \ndulge. And that he would never suffer himself to be \ntempted to undo the good whieh Cromwell or any \nother had done, because they were usurpers that did \nit ; or discountenance a faithful ministry because his \nenemies had set them up. But that he would rather \noutgo them in doing good, and opposing and rejecting \nthe ignorant and ungodly, of what opinion or party \nsoever. For the people whose cause we recommended \nto him, had their eyes on him as the officer of God, \nto defend them in the possession of the helps of their \nsalvation ; whieh, if he were pleased to vouchsafe \nthem, their estates and lives would be cheerfully of \nfered to his service.\" \n\n\" The king gave us not only a free audience, but as \ngracious an answer as we could expect ; professing his \ngladness to hear our inclinations to agreement, and his \nresolution to do his part to bring us together ; and that \nit must not be by bringing one party over to the other, \n\n\n\n64 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nbut by abating somewhat on both sides, and meeting \nin the midway ; and that, if it were not accomplished, \nit should be of ourselves, and not of him : nay, that he \nwas resolved to see it brought to pass, and that he \nwould draw us together himself: with some more to \nthis purpose. Insomuch that old Mr. Ash burst out \ninto tears with joy, and could not forbear expressing \nwhat gladness this promise of his majesty had put into \nhis heart.\" \n\nProposals of agreement were submitted to the king \nand his advisers, but without effect. Subsequently to \nthis, Baxter was offered a bishopric by the lord chan \ncellor; but this, for various reasons, he declined. He \ndid not consider it \" as a thing unlawful in itself,\" \nbut he thought he \" could better serve the church \nwithout it.\" In the letter in which he declines epis- \ncopal honors, he begs of the lord chancellor that he \nmight be allowed to preach to his old charge at Kid- \nderminster. He says : ■ \n\n\"When I had refused a bishopric, I did it on such \nreasons as offended not the lord chancellor; and there- \nfore, instead of it, I presumed to crave his favor to re- \nstore me to preach to my people at Kidderminster \nagain, from whence I had been cast out, when many \nhundreds of others \"were ejected upon the restoration \nof all them that had been sequestered. It was but a \nvicarage ; and the vicar was a poor, unlearned, igno- \nrant, silly reader, that little understood what Chris- \ntianity and the articles of his creed did signify : but \nonce a quarter he said something which he called a \nsermon, which made him the pity or laughter of the \npeople. This man, being unable to preach himself, \nkept always a curate under him to preach. Before the \nM'ars, I had preached there only as a lecturer, and he \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 65 \n\nwas bound in a bond of £500 to pay me £60 per \nannum, and afterwards be was sequestered, a3 is be- \nfore sufficiently declared. My people were so dear to \nme, and I to them, that I would have been with them \nupon the lowest lawful terms. Some laughed at me \nfor refusing a bishopric, and petitioning to be a read- . \ning vicar's curate. But I had little hopes of so good a \ncondition, at least for any considerable time.\" \n\nHis application, however, proved unsuccessful ; for \narrangements could not be made between the patron \nand the chancellor respecting the removal of the old \nvicar, who retained the charge of four thousand souls, \nthough utterly incompetent for his important duties, \nand Baxter was left without a charge. \n\nThough not permitted to return to his eharge, he \nnevertheless exerted himself in various ways to pro- \nmote the glory of God and the good of souls. His at- \ntention was, at this period, drawn to the subject o \nmissions among the North American Indians. Elio* \nthe \"Apostle of the Indians,\" and his assistants, hai \neffected much good among the roving tribes of Ame- \nrica. Cromwell had entered warmly into the cause, \nand ordered collections to be made in every parish \nfor the propagation of the Gospel, in those regions. \nFunds were raised, a society was formed and incor- \nporated, and much good was effected. At the \" Resto- \nration,\" some parties, inimical to the truth, endeavor- \ned to destroy the institution, and to appropriate the \nfunds to other objects. Baxter, assisted by others, ex- \nerted himself to prevent this spoliation j and by his \ninfluence at court, succeeded in securing the property, \nEnd in restoring the society to its original design. \n\nFor his exertions he received a letter of thanks from \nthe Governor of New England, and another from the \n\nL. B. 6* \n\n\n\n66 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nvenerable Eliot. The latter informs Baxter of his in- \ntention to translate the \" Call to the Unconverted\" in- \nto the Indian language, but waited for his permission, \nhis counsel, and his prayers. To this letter Baxter re- \nplied. A few extracts from his reply will show the in- \nterest that both he and many others felt in the cause \nof missions in those troublous times. \n\n\" Reverend and much honored brother, — Though \nour sins have separated us from the people of our love \nand care, and deprived us of all public liberty of preach- \ning the Gospel of our Lord, I greatly rejoice in the \nliberty, help, and success which Christ has so long \nvouchsafed you in his work. There is no man on earth \nwhose work I think more honorable than yours. To \npropagate the Gospel and kingdom of Christ in those \ndark parts of the world, is a better work than our ha- \nting and devouring one another. There are many here \nthat would be ambitious of being your fellow-laborers, \nbut that they are informed you have access to no \ngreater a number of the Indians than you yourself and \nyour present assistants are able to instruct. An hono- \nrable gentleman, Mr. Robert Boyle, the governor of the \ncorporation for your work, a man of great learning and \nworth, and of a very public universal mind, did motion \nto me a public collection, in all our churches, for thr \nmaintaining of such ministers as are willing to go \nhence to you, while they are learning the Indian lan- \nguages and laboring in the work, as also to transport \nthem. But I find those backward that I have spoken \nto about it, partly suspecting it a design of those that \nwould be rid of them; (but if it would promote the \nwork of God, this objection were too carnal to be re- \ngarded by good men;) partly fearing that, when the \n\n\n\nLiEE OF BAXtER. $7 \n\nmoney is gathered, the work may be frustrated by the \nalienation of it, but this I think they need not fear so \nfar as to hinder any ; partly because they think there \nwill be nothing considerable gathered, because the peo- \nple that are unwillingly divorced from their teachers \nwill give nothing to send them farther from them, but \nspecially because they think, on the aforesaid grounds, \nthat there is no work for them to do if they were with \nyou. There are many here, I conjecture, that would \nbe glad to go any where, to Persians, Tartars, Indians, \nor any unbelieving nation, to propagate the Gospel, \nif they thought they could be serviceable ; but the de- \nfect of their languages is their great discouragement. \nThe industry of the Jesuits and friars, and their suc- \ncesses in Congo, Japan, China, &c. shame us all, save \nyou. I should be glad to learn from you how far your \nIndian tongue extends; how large of populous the \ncountry is that uses it, if it be kfiown ; and whether it \nreach only to a few scattered neighbors, who cannot \nthemselves convey their knowledge far because of \nother languages. We very much rejoice in your hap- \npy work, the translation of the Bible, and bless God \nthat hath strengthened you to finish it. If any thing \nof mine may be honored to contribute in the least \nmeasure to your blessed work, I shall have great cause \nto be thankful to God, and wholly submit the altera- \ntion and use of it to your wisdom.\" \n\nThe state of the heathen appears to have occupied \nthe thoughts of Baxter through the whole course of \nhis ministry. Numerous allusions and references to \nthe subject are found in his writings. In the preface \nto his work entitled the \" Reasons of the Christian \nReligion,\" he states that his desire to promote \" the \nconversion of idolaters and infidels to God and the \n\n\n\n68 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nChristian faith,\" was one of the reasons which prompt \ned him to write that work. \" The doleful thought that \nfive parts of the world were still heathens and Moham- \nmedans, and that Christian princes and preachers did \nno more for their recovery,\" awakened the most pain- \nfuljmxiety and distress in his mind. In his work, \" How \nto do Good to Many,\" &c. he asks, \" Is it not possible, \nat least, to help the poor ignorant Armenians, Greeks, \nMuscovites, and other Christians, who have no print- \ning imong them, nor much preaching and knowledge; \nann for want of printing, have very few Bibles, even \nfor their churches or ministers? Could nothing be \ndone to get some Bibles, catechisms, and practical \nbooks printed in their own tongues, and given among \nthem? I know there is difficulty in the way; but \nmoney, and willingness, and diligence, might do some- \nthing. Might not something be done in other planta- \ntions, as well as in New-England, towards the conver- \nsion of the natives there? Might not some skillful, \nzealous preachers be sent thither, who would promote \nserious piety among those of the English that have toe \nlittle &( it, teach the natives the Gospel, and our plant- \ners how to behave themselves so as to win souls tc \nChrist?\" \n\nHow powerfully affecting, and yet how truly appli- \ncable, even at the present hour, is the following pas- \nsage, contained in his life! — \"It would make a believ- \ner's heart bleed, if any thing in the world will do it, \nto think that five parts in six of the world are still \nheathens, Mohammedans, and infidels, and that the \nwicked lives of Christians, with fopperies, ignorance, \nand divisions, form the great impediment to their con- \nversion ! to read and hear travelers and merchants \nteii that the Banians, and other heathens in Hindostan \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 69 \n\nCambaia, and many other lands, and the Mohamme- \ndans adjoining to the Greeks, and the x\\byssinians, \n&c. do commonly fly from Christianity^ and say, 'God \nwill not save us if we be Christians, for Christians are \ndrunkards, and proud, and deceivers,' &c. and that \nthe Mohammedans and many heathens have more, \nboth of devotion and honesty, than nominal Christians \nthat live among them ! O wretched men, calling them- \nselves after the name of Christ ! that are not content \nto damn themselves, but thus lay stumbling-blocks \nbefore the world ! It were better for these men that \nthey had never been born ! \n\nAt the close of his life, and on the near approach of \neternity, his mind was deeply interested on this im- \nportant subject. The unbounded benevolence of his \nheart is poured forth in the following extract from his \nsolemn review of his own character, made in his last \ndays: \n\n\" My soul is much more afflicted with the thoughts \nof the miserable world, and more drawn out in desire \nof their conversion, than heretofore. I was wont to \niook but little farther than England in my prayers, as \nnot considering the state of the rest of the world : or, \nif I prayed for the conversion of the Jews, that was \nalmost all. But now. as I better understand the case \nof the world, and the method of the Lord's prayer, so \nthere is nothing that lies so heavy upon my heart as \nthe thought of the miserable nations of the earth. It \nis the most astonishing part of all God's providence \nto me, that he so far forsakes almost all the world, and \nconfines his special favor to so few; that so small a \npart of the world has the profession of Christianity, \nin comparison of heathens, Mohammedans, and infi- \ndels I and that, among professed Christians, there are \n\n\n\n70 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nso few that are saved from gross delusions, and have \nany competent knowledge ; and that among those \nthere are so few that are seriously religious, and truly \nset their hearts on heaven. I cannot be affected so \nmuch with the calamities of my own relations, or of \nthe land of my nativity, as v/ith the case of the hea- \nthen, Mohammedan, and ignorant nations of the earth. \nNo part of my prayers is so deeply serious as that for \nthe conversion of the infidel and ungodly world, that \nGod's name may be sanctified, and his kingdom come, \nand his will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Nor \nwas I ever before so sensible what a plague the divi- \nsion of languages was, which hinders our speaking to \nthem for their conversion ; nor what a great sin ty- \nranny is, which keeps out the Gospel from most of \nthe nations of the world. Could we but go among \nTartars, Turks, and heathens, and speak their lan- \nguage, I should be but little troubled for the silencing \nof eighteen hundred ministers at once in England, nor \nfor all the rest that were cast out here, and in Scot- \nland and Ireland. There being no employment in the \nworld so desirable in my eyes, as to labor for the win- \nning of such miserable souls, which makes me greatly \nhonor Mr. John Eliot, the apostle of the Indians in \nNew-England, and whoever else have labored in such \nwork.\" \n\nBaxter almost despaired of the conversion of the \nworld. The obstacles to missionary enterprise were \nat that time insurmountable. \" He that surveys the \npresent state of the earth,\" writes Baxter to his friend \nEliot, \" and considers that scarcely a sixth part is \nChristian, and how small a part of them have much \nof the power of godliness, will be ready to think that \nChrist has called almost all his chosen, and is ready \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 71 \n\nto forsake the earth, rather than that he intends us \nsuch blessed days as we desire.\" But \" what hath \nGod wrought !\" How great the change in the state of \nreligion, both at home and abroad, since the days of \nBaxter! Persecution has fled; religion has revived; \nthe missionary spirit has been enkindled ; prayer has \nbeen offered ; money has been contributed ; commerce \nhas presented facilities for introducing the Gospel into \nall parts of the earth ; wide and effectual doors have \nbeen opened ; missionaries have gone forth to the help \nof the Lord against the mighty, and great success has \nattended their labors : so that we are evidently ap- \nproaching nearer to the period when the proclamation \nshall be made, \" The kingdoms of this world are be- \ncome the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ ; \nand he shall reign for ever and ever.\" \n\nAbout this period the celebrated \" Savoy Confer- \nence\" was held. The object was to effect a reconcilia- \ntion between the different religious parties, that they \nmight be united in one common profession of Chris- \ntianity. At this conference Baxter took a prominent \npart. He was sincerely desirous for the peace of the \nchurch, and that an accommodation should ensue. \nFor this purpose he submitted various propositions, \nbut without effect : and, after some weeks' delibera- \ntion, the conference was broken up, without the least \nhope or possibility, under existing circumstances, of \nreconciliation. Baxter was charged by hi» antagonists \nwith \" speaking too boldly, and too long ;\" but this he \naccounted not a crime, but a virtue. \" I thought it,\" \nsays he, \"a cause I could cheerfully suffer for; and \nshould as willingly be a martyr for charity as for faith.\" \n\nThis was the last public and authorized attempt to \npromote peace and unity by argument and persuasion. \n\n\n\n72 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nThenceforward other measures were tried 10 effect so \ndesirable an object, and, most unhappily, the diver- \ngence of the parties became greater than ever. \n\nFrom the termination of the \" Savoy Conference,\" \nthe case of the dissidents became more trying and per- \nplexing. They were calumniated and charged with \npreaching sedition, or with forming plot3 against the \ngovernment. Baxter, whose loyalty was unimpeach- \nable, and whose ruling passion was a desire for peace, \nwhose very soul was love, appears to have been parti- \ncularly marked as an object for the shafts of calumny* \nHe says : \" So vehement was the endeavor in court, \ncity, and country, to make me contemptible and odi- \nous, as if the authors had thought that the safety either \nof church or state did lie upon it, and all woUiM have \nbeen safe if I were but vilified and hated. So that any \nstranger that had but heard and seen all this, would \nhave asked, What monster of villany is this man? and \nwhat is the wickedness that he is guilty of? Yet was \nI never questioned to this day before a magistrate. \nNor do my adversaries charge me with any personal \nwrong to them ; nor did they ever accuse me of any \nheresy, nor much contemn my judgment, nor ever ac- \ncuse my life, but for preaching where another had been \nsequestered that was an insufficient reader, and for \npreaching to the soldiers of the parliament ; though \nnone of them knew my business there, nor the service \nthat I did them. These are all the crimes, besides my \n■writings, that I ever knew they charged my life with.\" \n\n' ; Though no one accused me of any thing, nor spake \na word to me of it, being (they knew I had long been) \nnear a hundred miles off, yet did they defame me all \nover the land, as guilty of a plot ; and when men were \ntaken up and sent to prison, in other countries, it wa» \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 73 \n\nsaid to be for Baxter's plot : so easy was it, and so ne- \ncessary a thing it seemed then, to cast reproach upon \nmy name.\" \n\nDuring the two years of his residence in London, \nprevious to his final ejectment, Baxter preached in va- \nrious places, as opportunities presented themselves. \n\nHe says : K Being removed from my ancient flock \nn Worcestershire, and yet heing uncertain whether I \n•night return to them or not, I refused to take any \nather charge, but preached up and down London, for \nnothing, according as I was invited. When I had done \nthus above a year, I thought a fixed place was better, \nand so I joined with Dr. Bates, at St. Dunstan's in the \nWest, in Fleet-street, and preached once a week, for \nwhich the people allowed me some maintenance. Be- \nbre this time I scarcely ever preached a sermon in \n'he city. \n\n\" The congregations being crowded, was that which \norovoked envy to accuse me ; and one day the crowd \ndrove me from my place. In the midst of a sermon at \nDunstan's church, a little lime and dust, and perhaps \na piece of a brick or two, fell down in the steeple or \nbelfry, which alarmed the congregation with the idea \nihat the steeple and church were falling ; and indeed, \nm their confusion and haste to get away, the noise of \n;he feet in the galleries sounded like the falling of the \nStones. I sat still in the pulpit, seeing and pitying their \nterror ; and, as soon as I could be heard, I entreated \n.heir silence, and went on. The people were no sooner \nquieted, and got in again, and the auditory composed, \nbut a wainscot bench, near the communion-table, broke \nwith the weight of those who stood upon it ; the nois° \nrenewed the fear, and they were worse disordered tnaa \nbefore ; so that one old woman was heard, at the church \n\n7 Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n74 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ndoor, asking forgiveness of God for not taking the first \nwarning, and promising, if God would deliver her this \nonce, she would take heed of coming thither again. \nWhen they were again quieted I went on. But tne \nchurch having before an ill name, as very old, and rot- \nten, and dangerous, it was agreed to pull down all the \nroof and repair the building, which is now much more \ncommodious. \n\n\" While these repairs were made I preached out my \nquarter at Bride's church, in the other end of Fleet- \nstreet; where the common prayer being used by the \ncurate before sermon, I occasioned abundance to be \nat common prayer, who before avoided it. And yet \naccusations against me still continued. \n\n\" On the week days, Mr. Ashurst, with about twent*' \nmore citizens, desired me to preach a lecture in Milk \nstreet, for which they allowed me forty pounds per an \nnum, which I continued near a year, till we were al. \nsilenced. And at the same time I preached once every \nLord's day at Blackfriars, where Mr. Gibbons, a judi- \ncious man, was minister. In Milk-street I took money \nbecause it came not from the parishioners, tut stran- \ngers, and so was no wrong to the minister, Mr. Vincent \na very holy, blameless man. But at Blackfriars I nevei \ntook a penny, because it was the parishioners who \ncalled me, who would else be less able and ready to \nhelp their worthy pastor, who went to God by a con- \nsumption, a little after he was silenced. At these two \nchurches I ended the course of my public ministry, \nunless God cause an undeserved resurrection.\" \n\n\" Shortly after our disputation at the Savoy, I went \nto Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire, and preached: \nthere but once, upon Malt. 22 : 12, ' And he was speech- \nless f where I spake not a word that was any nearer \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 75 \n\nkin to sedition, or that had any greater tendency to \nprovoke them, than by showing ' that wicked men, \nand the refusers of grace, however they may now have \nmany things to say to excuse their sins, will at last be \nspeechless before God.\" Yet did the bishop of Wor- \ncester tell me, when he silenced me, that the bishop \nof London had showed him letters from one of the \nhearers, assuring him that I preached seditiously: so \nlittle security was any man's innocency to his reputa- \ntion, if he had but one auditor that desired to get fa- \nvor by accusing him. \n\n\" Shortly after my return to London I went into \nWorcestershire, to try whether it were possible to have \nany honest terms from the reading vicar there, that I \nmight preach to my former flock; but when I had \npreached twice or thrice, he denied me liberty to preach \nany more. I offered him to take my lecture, which he \nwas bound to allow me, under a bond of five hundred \npounds, but he refused it. I next offered him to be his \ncurate, and he refused it. I next offered him to preach \nfor nothing, and he refused it. And lastly, I desired \nleave but once to administer the Lord's supper to the \npeople, and preach my farewell sermon to them, but \nhe would not consent. At last I understood that he was \ndirected by his superiors to do what he did. But Mr. \nBaldwin, an able preacher whom I left there, was yet \npermitted. \n\n\"At that time, my aged father lying in great pain \nof the stone and strangury, I went to visit him, twen- \nty miles further. And while I was there Mr. Baldwin \ncame to me, and told me that he also was forbidden to \npreach. We both returned to Kidderminster.\" \n\n\" Having parted with my dear flock, I need not say \nwith mutual tears, I left Mr Baldwin to live privately \n\n\n\n76 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\namong them, and oversee them in my stead, and visit \nthem from house to house; advising them, notwith- \nstanding all the injuries they had received, and all the \nfailings of the ministers that preached to them, and \nthe defects of the present way of worship, that yet they \nshould keep to the public assemblies, and make use of \nsuch helps as might be had in public, togethei with \ntheir private helps.\" \n\nThe great crisis, which was foreseen by many, had \nnow arrived. The parliamentary attempt to promote \necclesiastical peace, by the \" Act of Uniformity,\" de- \nmanding an oath of absolute subjection to every requi- \nsition of the church, ended :n the ejectment of two \nthousand of the best and holiest ministers in the land \nfrom their livings and labors. Baxter determined on \nnot taking the oath, and hence relinquished public \npreaching as soon as the act was passed, and before it \ncame into operation. His reason for so doing, he states \nto be, that as his example was looked to by many \nthroughout the country, it might be known that he \ncould not conform. \n\nIn the earlier period of his ministry Baxter had re- \nsolved not to enter into the married state, that he might \npursue his pastoral and ministerial labors with less \nanxiety and interruption. After his ejectment, how- \never, having no public charge, and seeing little pros- \npect of ever being able to resume his ministerial en- \ngagements, he deemed himself at liberty, and lhat ii \nwould conduce to his comfort, to be united in the bonds \nof matrimony. He married Miss Charlton, a lady who, \nthough much younger than himself, proved to be in \nevery respect a suitable partner for this eminent saint. \n\nHis marriage excited much curiosity and remark \nthroughout the kingdom ; and \" I think,\" he observes, \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 77 \n\n\" the king's marriage was scarce more talked of than \nmine.\" He and his wife lived a very unsettled life; \nbeing obliged, on account of persecutions, frequently \nto remove from one place of residence to another. \n\nHe says : \" Having lived three years and more in \nLondon since I left Kidderminster, but only three \nquarters of a year since my marriage, and finding it \nneither agree with my health or studies, the one being \nbrought very low, and the other interrupted, and all \npublic service being at an end, I betook myself to live \nin the country, at Acton, that I might set myself to \nwriting, and do what service I could for posterity, and \nlive, as much as possibly I could, out of the world. \nThither I came, 1663, July 14, where I followed my \nstudies privately in quietness, and went every Lord's \nday to the public assembly, when there was any preach- \ning or catechising, and spent the rest of the day with \nmy family, and a few poor neighbors that came in ; \nspending now and then a day in London. And the \nnext year, 16C-*, I had the company of divers godly \nfaithful friends that tabled with me in summer, with \nwhom I solaced myself with much content.\" \n\n\" On March 26, being the Lord's day, 1685, as I was \npreaching in a private house, where we received the \nLord's supper, a bullet came in at the window among \nus ; and passed by me, and narrowly missed the head \nof a sister-in-law of mine that was there, and hurt \nnone of us ; and we could never discover whence it \ncame. \n\n\"In June following, an ancient gentlewoman, with \nher sons and daughter, came four miles In her coach, \nto hear me preach in my family, as out of special re- \nspect to me. It happened that, contrary to our cus- \ntom, we let her knock long at the door, and did not \n\n\n\n78 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nI \n\nopen it; and so a second time, when slic had gone \naway and came again; and the third time she came, \nwe had ended. She was so earnest to know when she \nmight come again to hear me, that I appointed her a \ntime But before she came, I had secret intelligence, \nfrom one that was nigh her, that she came with 8 \nheart exceeding full of malice, resolving, if possible, \nto do me what mischief she could by accusation; and \nso that danger was avoided.\" \n\nThe \" plague of London \" now burst forth with tre- \nmendous fury, on which Baxter thus remarks: \n\n\"And now, after all the breaches on the churches, \nthe ejection of the ministers, and impenitency under \nall, wars, and plague, and danger of famine began all ' \nat once on us. War with the Hollanders, which yet \ncontinues; and the driest winter, spring, and summer \nthat ever man alive knew, or our forefathers men- \ntion of late ages; so that the grounds were burnt, like \nthe highways, where the cattle should have fed ! The \nmeadow grounds, where I lived, bare but four loads of \nhay, which before bare forty. The plague has seized \non the most famous and most excellent city in Chris- \ntendom, and at this time eight thousand die of all \ndiseases in a week. It has scattered and consumed \nthe inhabitants, multitudes being dead and fled. The \ncalamities and cries of the diseased and impoverished \nare not to be conceived b)^ those that are absent from \nthem ! Every man is a terror to his neighbor and him \nself; for God, for our sins, is a terror to us all. O ! how \nis London, the place which God has honored with his \nGospel above all the places of the earth, laid in low \nhorrors, and wasted almost to desolation by the wrath \nof God, whom England hath contemned ; and a God- \nhating generation are consumed in their sins, and the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 79 \n\nrighteous are also taken away, as from greater evil yet \nto come.\" \n\n\" The number that died in London alone was about \na hundred thousand. The richer sort removing out of \nthe city, the greatest blow fell on the poor. At first, so \nfew of the most religious were taken away, that, ac- \ncording to the mode of too many such, they began to \nbe purled up, and boast of the great difference which \nGod made ; but quickly after, they all fell alike. Yet \nnot many pious ministers were taken away : I remem- \nber but three, who were all of my own acquaintance. \n\n' : It is scarcely possible for people that live in a time \nof health and security, to apprehend the dreadfulness \nof that pestilence ! How fearful people were, thirty \nor forty, if not a hundred miles from London, of any \nthing that they bought from any mercer's or draper' \nshop ! or of any goods that were brought to them ! or \nof any person that came to their houses ! How they \nwould shut their doors against their friends ! and if a \nman passed over the fields, how one would avoid an- \nother, as we did in the time of wars ; and how every \nman was a terror to another ! O how sinfully un- \nthankful are we for our quiet societies, habitations, \nand health !\" \n\nMany of the ejected ministers seized the opportunity \nof preaching in the neglected or deserted pulpits, and \nin the public places of resort, to the terror-stricken in- \nhabitants of London, and blessed results followed. \n\" Those heard them one day often, that were sick the \nnext, and quickly died. The faae of death so awakened \nboth preachers and hearers, that preachers exceeded \nthemselves in fervent preaching, and the people crowd- \ned constantly to hear them ; and all was done with \nsuch great seriousness that, through the blessing of \n\n\n\n80 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nGod, many were converted from their carelessness, \nimpenitency, and youthful lusts and vanities ; and re- \nligion took such a hold on the people's hearts as could \nnever afterwards be loosed.\" \n\nWhen the plague reached Acton, in July, Mr. Bax- \nter retired to Hampden, in Bucks, where he continued \nwith his friend Mr. Hampden till the following March. \nThe plague, he says, \" having ceased on March 1st fol- \nlowing, I returned home, and found the churchyard \nlike a ploughed field with graves, and many of my \nneighbors dead ; but my house, near the churchyard, \nuninfected, and that part of my family which I left \nhere, all safe, through the great mercy of God.\" \n\nScarcely had the plague ceased its ravages before \nihe great fire commenced its destructive career in Lon- \ndon. Churches in great numbers were destroyed in the \ngeneral conflagration. The zealous, though silenced \nwatchmen, ventured, amid the ashes of a ruined city, \nto urge the inhabitants to flee from the \" wrath to \ncome,\" and to seek, in their impoverished condition, \n; ' the unsearchable riches of Christ.\" \n\nThe distress occasioned by these calamities was \ngreat. \" Many thousands were cast into utter want and \nbeggary, and many thousands of the formerly rich \nwere disabled from relieving them.\" To the friends ot \nChrist in London, the silenced ministers in the coun- \ntry had been accustomed to look for assistance in their \ndistresses. By these providences their resources were \nin a measure dried up. But, though enduring dread- \nful privations, few, if any, were suffered to perish \nthrough want. Baxter says : \n\n<; Whilst 1 was living at Acton, as long as the act \nagainst conventicles was in force, though I preached \nto my family, few of the town came to hear me, part- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 81 \n\nly because they thought it would endanger me, and \npartly for fear of suffering themselves, but especially \nbecause they were an ignorant poor people, and had \nno appetite for such things. But when the act was \nexpired, there came so many that I wanted room ; and \nwhen once they had come and heard, they afterwards \ncame constantly ; insomuch that in a little time there \nwas a great number of them that seemed very serious- \nly affected with the things they heard ; and almost all \nthe town, besides multitudes from Brentford and the \nneighboring places, came.\" \n\nHe attended the services of the church, and between \nthe interval of service preached in his own house to \nas many as chose to corne. This gave umbrage to the \nminister. \" It pleased the parson,\" says Baxter, \"that \nI came to church, and brought others with me; but \nhe was not able to bear the sight of people's crowding \ninto my house, though they heard him also ; so that, \nthough he spoke kindly to me, and we lived in seem- \ning love and peace while he was there, yet he could \nnot long endure it. And when I had brought the peo- \nple to church to hear him, he would fall upon them \nwith groundless reproaches, as if he had done it pur- \nposely to drive them away; and yet thought that my \npreaching to them, because it was in a private house, \ndid all the mischief, though he never accused me of \nany thing that I spake. For I preached nothing but \nChristianity and submission to our superiors, faith, re- \npentance, hope, love, humility, self-denial, meekness, \npatience, and obedience,\" \n\nDuring his residence at Acton, Baxter became ac- \nquainted with Lord Chief Justice Hale, who occupied \nthe house adjoining his own. With his simplicity, in- \ntegrity, piety, and learning, he was delighted and \n\n\n\n82 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ncharmed. He denominates him \" the pillar of justice \nthe refuge of the subject who feared oppression, and \none of the greatest honors of his majesty's govern- \nment.\" His lordship, too, appears to have been equal- \nly interested in the character of his neighbor. His \navowed esteem and respect for the despised noncon- \nformist was a means of encouraging and strengthen- \ning the hands of Baxter. \" When the people crowded \nin and out of my house to hear, he openly showed me \nsuch great respect before them at the door, and never \nspake a word against it, as was no small encourage- \nment to the common people to go on ; though the \nother sort muttered that a judge should seem so far to \ncountenance that which they took to be against the \nlaw.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\nHIS PERSECUTIONS, TRIAL, AND DEATH. \n\nAt length Baxter's preaching at Acton could no \nlonger be connived at. Information was laid against \nhim, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. \nHe was taken before two justices of the peace. \"When \nI came,\" he writes, \" they shut out all persons from \nthe room, and would not give leave for any one per- \nson, no, not their own clerk or servant, or the consta- \nble, to hear a word that was said between us. Then \nthey told me that I was convicted of keeping conven- \nticles contrary to law, and so they would tender me \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 83 \n\nthe Oxford oath. I desired my accusers might come \nface to face, and that I might see and speak with the \nwitnesses who testified that I kept conventicles con- \ntrary to the law, which I denied, as far as I under- \nstood law ; but they would not grant it. I pressed that \nI might speak in the hearing of some witnesses, and \nflot in secret; for I supposed that they were my judges, \n*nd that their presence and business made the place \na place of judicature, where none should be excluded, \nor at least some should be admitted. But I could not \nprevail. Had I resolved on silence, they were resolved \nto proceed ; and I thought a Christian should rather \nsubmit to violence, and give place to injuries, than \nstand upon his right, when it will give others occasion \nto account him obstinate. I asked them whether I \nmight freely speak for myself, and they said yea ; but, \nwhen I began to speak, still interrupted me, and put \nme by. But, with much importunity, I got them once \nto hear me, while I told them why I took not my \nmeeting to be contrary to law, and why the Oxford \nact concerned me not, and they had no power to put \nthat oath on me by the act ; but all the answer I could \nget was, 'That they were satisfied of what the)^ did.' \nAnd when, among other reasonings against their \ncourse, I told them, though Christ's ministers had, in \nmany ages, been men esteemed and used as we now \nare, and their afilicters had insulted over them, the . \nprovidence of God had still so ordered it that the \nnames and memory of their silencers and afflicters \nhave been left to posterity for a reproach, insomuch \nthat I wondered that those who fear not God, and \ncare not for their own or the people's souls, should \nyet be so careless of their fame, when honor seems so \ngreat a matter with them. To which Ross answered, \n\n\n\nS4 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthat he desired no greater honor to his name, than \nthat it should be remembered of him that he did this \nagainst me, and such as I, which he was doing.\" \n\nThe result of this interview was, that Baxter was \nfully committed, for six months, to the New Prison, \nClerkenwell. He begged that his liberty might be \ngranted till the following Monday ; but as he would \nnot promise not to preach on the intervening Lord's \nday, his request was denied. \n\nThe inhabitants of Acton were grieved at the loss of \ntheir neighbor, and the more so, as the incumbent of \nthe parish was the means of his imprisonment. \" The \nwhole town of Acton were greatly exasperated against \nthe dean when I was going to prison, insomuch that \never since they abhorred him as a selfish persecutor. \nNor could he devise to do more to hinder the success \nof his (seldom) preaching there. But it was his own \nchoice: 'Let them hate me, so they fear me.' And so \nI finally left that place, being grieved most that Satan \nhad prevailed to stop the poor people in such hopeful \nbeginnings of a common reformation, and that I was \nto be deprived of the exceeding grateful neighborhood \nof the Lord Chief Justice Hale, who could scarce re- \nfrain tears when he heard of the first warrant for my \nappearance. \n\n\"My imprisonment was, at present, no great suf- \nfering to me, for I had an honest jailer, who showed \nme all the kindness he could. I had a large room, \nand the liberty of walking in a fair garden; and my \nwife was never so cheerful a companion to me as in \nprison, and was very much against my seeking to be \nreleased ; and she had brought so many necessaries, \nthat we kept house as contentedly and as comfortably \nas at home, though in a narrower room ; and I had \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 85 \n\nthe sight of more of my friends in a day, than I had \nat home in half a year.\" \n\nEfforts were made, by his friends, to procure his re- \nlease, which, in consequence of some informalities hi \nhis commitment, were successful. His reflections on \nhis imprisonment show his piety and submission. \n\n\"While I stayed in prison, I saw somewhat to \nblame myself for, and somewhat to wonder at others \nfor, and somewhat to advise my visitors about. \n\n\" I blamed myself that I was no more sensible of \n*,he spiritual part of my affliction; such as the inter- \nruption of my work among the poor people from whom \nI was removed, and the advantage Satan had got \nagainst them, and the loss of my own public liberty, \nfor worshiping in the assemblies of God's people. \n\n\"I marvelled at some who suffered more than I, as \nMr. Rutherford, when he was confined to Aberdeen, \nthat their sufferings occasioned them such great joys \nis they express ; which surely was from the free grace \nof God, to encourage others by their example, and not \nmat their own impatience made them need it much \nmore than at other times. For surely so small a suf- \nfering needs not a quarter of the patience which \nmany poor nonconforming ministers, and thousands \nof others need, that are at liberty ; whose own houses, \nthrough poverty, are made far worse to them than my \nprison was to me. \n\n\"I found reason to entreat my Acton neighbors \nnot to let their passion against their parson, on my \naccount, hinder them from a due regard to his doc- \ntrine, nor from any of the duty which they owed him ; \nand to blame some who aggravated my sufferings, \nand to tell them that I had no mind to fancy myself \nhurt before I felt it. I used, at home to confine my- \n\ng Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n86 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nself voluntarily almost as much. I had ten-fold more \npublic life here, and converse with my friends, than \nI had at home. If I had been to take lodgings at Lon- \ndon for six months, and had not known that this \nhad been a prison, and had knocked at the door and \nasked for rooms, I should as soon have taken this \nwhich I was put into, as most in town, save only for \nthe interruption of my sleep. \n\n\" I found cause to desire of my brethren, that, when \nthey suffered, they wouid remember that the design of \nSatan was more against their souls than their bodies ; \nthat it was not the least of his hopes to destroy the \nlove due to those by whom they suffered ; to render \nour superiors odious to the people ; and to make us \ntake such a poor suffering as this for a sign of true \ngrace, instead of faith, hope, love, mortification, and a \nheavenly mind ; and that the loss ef one grain of love \nwas worse than a long imprisonment. Also that it \nmuch more concerned us to be sure that we deserve \nnot suffering, than that we be delivered from it j and \nto see that we wrong not our superiors, than that they \nwrong not us; seeing we are not near so much hurt \nby their severities as we are by our sins. Some told \nme that they hoped this would make me stand a little \nfurther from the prelates and their worship than I had \ndone. To whom I answered, that I wondered that \nthey should think that a prison should change my \njudgment. I rather thought now it was my duty to \nset a stricter watch upon my passions, lest they should \npervert ir»y judgment ?nd carry me into extremes in \nopposition to those who afflicted me. If passion made \nme lose my love, or my religion, the loss would be \nmy own. And truth did not change because I was \nin a jail.\" \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n87 \n\n\n\nHis time was now chiefly occupied in writing and \npublishing various works on controversial and experi- \nmental divinity, and in making some attempts to pro- \ncure a union between the Presbyterians and Indepen- \ndents. He frequently conversed and corresponded \nwith Dr. Owen on this subject. Owen requested Bax- \nter to draw up a scheme of agreement. This scheme \nOwen attentively considered, but could not adopt. \nBaxter's attempts to unite all parties satisfied none. \n\nBaxter, with a few others of the nonconformists, de- \nfended the practice of occasional attendance and com- \nmunion in the parish churches where the Gospel was \npreached. It was, in consequence, currently reported \nat this time, that he had actually conformed. He was \noffered preferment in Scotland by the king. A mitre, \na professor's gown, or a surplice, was presented to his \nchoice. But he declined accepting his majesty's offer. \nHis refusal is contained in his letter to the Earl of Lau- \nderdale, through whom the offer was presented. \n\n\" My Lord, — Being deeply sensible of your lord- \nship's favors, and in special of your liberal offers for \nmy entertainment in Scotland, I humbly return you \nmy very hearty thanks. But these considerations for- \nbid me to entertain any hopes or further thoughts of \n\" such a remove : \n\n\" 1. The experience of my great weakness and de- \ncay of strength, and particularly of this last winter's \npain, and how much worse I am in winter than in \nsummer, doth fully persuade me that I should live but \na little while in Scotland, and that in a disabled, use- \nless condition, rather keeping my bed than the pulpit. \n\n\" 2. I am engaged in writing a book, which, if I \ncould hope to live to finish, is almost all the service \n\n\n\n88 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthat I expect to do God and his church more in the \nworld — a Latin Methodus Theologice; and I can hard- \nly hope to live so long, it requiring near a year's labor \nmore. Now, if I should go and spend that one half \nyear, or year, which should finish that work, in tra- \nvel, and the trouble of such a removal, and then leave \nmy intended work undone, it would disappoint me of \nthe ends of my life ; for I live only for work, and there- \nfore should remove only for work, and not for wealth \nand honor, if ever I remove. \n\n\" 3. If I were there, all that I could hope for were \nliberty to preach the Gospel of salvation, and especially \nin some university among young scholars. But I hear \nthat you have enough already for this work, that are \nlike to do it better than I can. \n\n\" 4. I have a family, and in it a mother-in-law, eighty \nyears of age, of honorable extraction and great worth, \nwhom I must not neglect, and who cannot travel. And \nit is to such a one as I, so great a business to remove \na family, and all our goods and books so far, as deters \nme from thinking of it, having paid so dear for remo- \nvals these eight years as I have done, and being but \nyesterday settled in a house which I have newly taken, \nand that with great trouble and loss of time. \n\n' c All this concurs to deprive me of this benefit of \nyour lordship's favor. But, my lord, there are other \nfruits of it, which I am not altogether hopeless of re- \nceiving. When I am commanded to pray for kings, \nand all in authority, I am allowed the ambition of this \npreferment, which is all that ever I aspired after : ' to \nlive a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and \nhonesty.' \n\n\" I am weary of the noise of contentious revilers \nand have often had thoughts to go into a foreign land. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 89 \n\nif I could find any, where I might have a healthful air \nand quietness, that I might but live and die in peace. \nWhen I sit in a corner, and meddle with nobody, and \nhope the world will forget that I am alive, court, city, \nand country is still filled with clamors against mej \nand when a preacher wants preferment, his way is to \npreach or write a book against the nonconformists, \nand me by name. So that the press and pulpits of \nsome, utter bloody invectives against myself, as if my \npeace were inconsistent with the kingdom's happiness. \nAnd never did my eyes read such impudent untruths, \nin matter of fact, as these writings contain ; and they \ncry out for answers and reasons of mj T nonconformi- \nty, while they know the law forbids me to answer \nthem unlicensed. I expect not that any favor or jus- \ntice of my superiors should cure any of this. But a \nfew things I would desire : \n\n\" 1. If I might but be heard to speak for myself, be- \nfore I be judged by them, and such things be believed. \nFor to contemn the judgment of my rulers is to dis- \nhonor them. \n\n\" 2. If I might live quietly to follow my private study, \nand might once again have the use of my books, which \nI have not seen these ten years, still paying for a room \nin which they stand at Kidderminster, where they are \neaten with worms and rats, having no security for my \nquiet abode in any place long enough to encourage me \nto send for them. And if I might have the liberty that \nevery beggar has, to travel from town to town ; I mean, \nbut to London, to oversee the press, when any thing \nof mine is licensed for it. And, \n\n\" 3. If I be sent to Newgate for preaching Christ's \nGospel, (for I dare not sacrilegiously renounce my call- \ning, to which I am consecrated,) that I may have the fa- \nL. B. 8* \n\n\n\n90 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nvor of a better prison, where I may but walk and write. \n\n\" These I should take as very great favors, and ac- \nknowledge your lordship my benefactor, if you pro- \ncure them. For I will not so much injure you as to \ndesire, or my reason as to expect, any greater things ; \nno, not the benefit of the law. I think I broke no law \nin any of the preachings which I am accused of; and \nI most confidently think that no law imposes on me \nthe Oxford oath, any more than any conformable mi \nnister; and I am past doubting the present mittimus \nfor my imprisonment is quite without law. But if \nthe justices think otherwise now, or ai any time, I \nknow no remedy. I have yet a license to preach pub- \nlicly in London diocess, under the archbishop's own \nhand and seal, which is yet valid for occasional ser- \nmons, though not for lectures or cures ; but I dare not \nuse it, because it is in the bishop's power to recall it. \nWould but the bishop, who, one would think, should \nnot be against the preaching of the Gospel, not recall \nmy license, I could preach occasional sermons, which \nwould absolve my conscience from all obligations to \nprivate preaching. For it is not maintenance that I ex- \npect; I have never received a farthing for my preach- \ning, to my knowledge, since May 1, 1662. I thank God \nI have food and raiment without being chargeable to \nany man, which is all that I desire, had I but leave to \npreach for nothing, and that only where there is a no- \ntorious necessity. I humbly crave your lordship's par \ndon for this tediousness, and again return you my very \ngreat thanks for your great favors; remaining, &c. \n\n\" June 24, 1670. Richard Baxter.\" \n\nHe says : \" On October 11, 1672, I fell into a dan- \ngerous fit of sickness, which God, in his wonted mer \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 91 \n\ncy, in time so far removed as to return me to some \ncapacity of service. \n\n\" I had till now forborne, for several reasons, to seek \na license for preaching from the king, upon the tole- \nration. But when all others had taken theirs, and \nwere settled in London and other places, as they could \nget opportunity, I delayed no longer, but sent to seek \none. on condition I might have it without the title of \nIndependent, Presbyterian, or any other party, but \nonly as a. nonconformist. And before I sent, Sir Thomas \nPlayer, chamberlain of London, had procured it me \nwithout my knowledge or endeavor. I had sought \nnone hitherto. \n\n\" 1. Because I was unwilling to be, or seem any \ncause of that way of liberty, if a better might have \nbeen had, and therefore would not meddle in it. \n\n\" 2. I lived ten miles from London, and thought it \nnot just to come and set up a congregation there, till \nthe ministers had fully settled theirs, who had borne \nthe burden there in the times of the raging plague and \nfire, and other calamities, lest I should draw away \nany of their auditors, and hinder their maintenance. \n\n\" 3. I perceived that no one, that ever I heard of \ntill mine, could get a license, unless he would be en- \ntitled in it, a Presbyterian, Independent, or of some \nsect. \n\n\" The 19th of November was the first day, after ten \nyears' silence, that I preached in a tolerated public \nassembly, though not yet tolerated in any conseci^ated \nchurch, but only, against law, in my own house. \n\n\" Some merchants set up a Tuesday's lecture in \nLondon, to be kept by six ministers at Pinner's Hall, \nallowing them twenty shillings a piece each sermon, \nof whom they chose me to be one.\" \n\n\n\n92 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\" January 24, 1G72-3, I Degan a Friday lecture at \nMr. Turner's church in New-street, near Fetter-lane, \nwith great convenience and God's encouraging bless- \ning ; but I never took a penny of money for it of any \none. And on the Lord's days I had no congregation \nto preach to, but occasionally to any that desire me, \nbeing unwilling to set up a church and become the \npastor of any, or take maintenance, in this distracted \nand unsettled way, unless further changes shall mani- \nfest it to be my duty. Nor did I ever yet administer \nthe Lord's supper to any one person, but to my old \nflock at Kidderminster.\" \n\n\"On February 20th I took my house in Bloomsbury, \nin London, and removed thither with my family; God \nhaving mercifully given me three years' great peace \namong quiet neighbors at Totteridge, and much more \nhealth and ease than I expected, and some opportuni- \nty to serve him.\" \n\nIn this situation he continued for some time, em- \nploying his flying pen and his unwearied efforts to pro- \nmote the peace of the churches and to instruct and \nbless mankind. In April, 1674, he writes, \" God has \nso much increased my languishing, and laid me so \nlow, that I have reason to think that my time on earth \nwill not be long. And O how good has the will of God \nproved hitherto to me ! And will it not be best at last? \nExperience causes me to say to his praise, ' Great \npeace have they that love his law, and nothing shall \noffend them;' and though my flesh and heart fail, God \nis the rock of my heart and my portion for ever. \n\n\" At this time came out my book called 'The Poor \nMan's Family Book,' which the remembrance of the \ngreat use of Mr. Dent's 'Plain Man's Pathway to \nHeaven,' now laid by, occasioned me to write for \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 93 \n\npoor country families, who cannot buy or read many \nbooks.\" \n\nAnxiously bent on doing good, and encouraged by \nthe reception and success his \" Poor Man's Family \nBook \" met with, he prepared several other works for \nthe promotion and increase of family religion. He \njustly believed that domestic piety was of the utmost \nimportance for the maintenance and progress of Chris- \ntianity. To promote \" household religion \" he employ- \ned all his energies while at Kidderminster. In his u Re \nformed Pastor,\" he urges ministers seriously to con \nsider the subject. He says : \"The life of religion, and \nthe welfare and glory, both of the church and state, \ndepend much on family government and duty. If we \nsuffer the neglect of this, we shall undo all. What are \nwe like to do ourselves for reforming a congregation, \nif all the work be cast on us alone, and masters of fa- \nmilies neglect that necessary duty -of their own by \nwhich they are bound to help us ? If any good be be- \ngun by the ministry in any soul, a careless, prayerless, \nworldly family, is likely to stifle it, or very much hin- \nder it ; whereas, if you could but get the rulers of fa- \nmilies to do their duty, to take up the work where \nyou left it, and help it on, what abundance of good \nmight be done ! I beseech you, therefore, if you de- \nsire the reformation and welfare of your people, do all \nyou can to promote family religion.\" \n\nHe prosecuted his Master's work with unwearied \nzeal, though suffering great bodily affliction, and ex- \nposed to much vexatious and embarrassing opposition. \n\nHe says : \" Taking it to be my duty to preach while \ntoleration continues, I removed, the last spring, to \nLondon, where my diseases, increasing this winter, a \nconstant head-ache added to the rest, and continuing \n\n\n\n94 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nstrong for about half a year, constrained me to cease \nmy Friday's lecture, and an afternoon sermon on the \nLord's days in my house, to my grief; and to preach \nonly one sermon a week, at St. James's market-house, \nwhere some had hired an inconvenient place. But i \nhad great encouragement to labor there, because of \nihe notorious necessity of the people ; it being the ha- \nbitation of the most ignorant, atheistical, and popish \nabout London ; and because, beyond my expectation, \nthe people generally proved exceedingly willing, and \nattentive, and tractable, and gave me great hopes of \nmuch success.\" \n\n\" On July 5, 1674, at our meeting over St. James's \nmarket-house, God vouchsafed us a great deliverance. \nA main beam, before weakened by the weight of the \npeople, so cracked, that three times they ran in terror \nout of the room, thinking it was falling ; but lemem- \nbering the like at Dunstan's in the west, I reproved \ntheir fear as causeless. But the next day, taking up \nthe boards, we found that two rents in the beam were \nso great that it was a wonder of Providence that the \nfloor had not fallen, and the roof with it, to the de- \nstruction of multitudes. The Lord make us thankful !' \n\n\" It pleased God to give me marvellous encourage \nment in my preaching at St. James's. The crack having \nfrightened away most of the richer sort, especially thu \nwomen, most of the congregation were young men, \nof the most capable age, who heard with great atten \ntion ; and many that had not come to church for many \nyears, manifested so great a change, (some papists \nand divers others, returning public thanks to God foi \ntheir conversion) as made all my charge and trou&la \neasy to me. Among all the popish, rude, and ignoiaai \npeople who were inhabitants of those parts, we had \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 95 \n\nscarcely any that opened their mouths against us, and \nthat did not speak well of the preaching of the word \namong them ; though, when I came first thither, the \nmost knowing inhabitants assured me that some of \nthe same persons wished my death. Among the ruder \nsort, a common reformation was noticed in the place, \nin their conversation as well as in their judgments.\" \n\n\"The dangerous crack over the market-house at \nSt. James's, made many desire that I had a larger \nsafer place for meeting. And though my own dullness, \nand great backwardness to troublesome business, made \nme very averse to so great an undertaking, judging \nthat, it being in the face of the court, it would never \nbe endured, yet the great and incessant importunity \nof many, out of a fervent desire of the good of souls, \nconstrained me to undertake it. And when it was \nalmost finished, in Oxendon-street, Mr. Henry Coven- \ntry, one of his majesty's principal secretaries, who had \na house joining to it, and was a member of parliament, \nspake twice against it in the parliament ; but no one \nseconded him.\" \n\n\"And that we might do the more good, my wife \nurged the building of another meeting place in Blooms- \nbury, for Mr. Reed, to be furthered by my sometimes \nhelping him : the neighborhood being very full of peo- \nple, rich and poor. \n\n\" I was so long wearied with keeping my doors shut \nagainst them that came to distrain on my goods for \npreaching, that I was induced to go from my house, \nand to sell all my goods, and to hide my library first, \nand afterwards to sell it. So that if books had been \nmy treasure, and I valued little more on earth, I had \nbeen now without a treasure. About twelve years I \nwas driven a hundred miles from them j and when I \n\n\n\n96 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nhad paid dear for the carriage, after two or three years \nT was forced to sell them. And the prelates, to hinder \nme from preaching, deprived me also of these private \ncomforts. But God saw that they were my snare. We \nbrought nothing into the world, and we must carry \nnothing out. \n\n\" I was the more willing to part with goods, books, \nand all, that I might have nothing to be distrained, \nand so go on to preach. And accordingly removing \nmy dwelling to the new chapel which I had built, I \npurposed to venture there to preach, there being forty \nthousand persons in the parish, as is supposed, more \nthan can hear in the parish church, who have no place \nto go to for God's public worship. So that I set not \nup church against church, but preached to those that \nmust else have none, being unwilling that London \nshould turn atheists, or live worse than infidels. But \nwhen I had preached there but once, a resolution was \ntaken to surprise me the next day, and send me for \nsix months to the common jail, upon the act for the \nOxford oath. Not knowing of this, it being the hottest \npart of the year, I agreed to go for a few weeks into \nthe country, twenty miles off. But the night before I \nshould go, I fell so ill that I was induced to send to \ndisappoint both the coach and my intended compan- \nion, Mr. Silvester. And when I was thus fully resolved \nto stay, it pleased God, after the ordinary coach hour, \nthat three men, from three parts of the city, met at my \nhouse accidentally, just at the same time, almost to a \nminute, of whom, if any one had not been there, I had \nnot gone, namely, the coachman again to urge me. \nMr. Silvester, whom I had put off, and Dr. Coxe, who \ncompelled me, and told me he would carry me into \nthe coach. It proved a special merciful providence of \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 97 \n\nGod ; for after one week of languishing and pain, I \nhad nine weeks greater ease than ever I expected in \nthis world, and greater comfort in ray work. My good \nfriend Richard Berisford, Esq. clerk of the exchequer, \nwhose importunity drew me to his house, spared no \ncost, labor, or kindness for my health or service.\" \n\nBaxter was now constantly harassed with informa- \ntions, fines, and warrants of distress, but he bore them \n111 with astonishing meekness and patience. He endea- \nvored to convince and convert the informers and offi- \ncers, who, on several occasions, came to apprehend \nhim. In some cases his exhortations were successful, \nif not to their actual conversion, at least to induce them \nto relinquish their persecuting practices. \n\nA striking instance of his placable and forgiving dis- \nposition is given in the following extract. \"Keting, \nthe informer, being commonly detested for prosecuting \n\nle, was cast into jail for debt, and wrote to me to en- \ndeavor his deliverance, which I did ; and in his letters \nsays, 'Sir, I assure you I do verily believe that God \nnas bestowed all this affliction on me because I was \n\no vile a wretch as to trouble you. And I assure you \ni never did a thing in my life that has so much trou- \nbled myself as that did. I pray God to forgive me. And \ntruly, I do not think of any that went that way to work, \n\nlat ever God would favor with his mercy. And truly, \nwithout great mercy from God, I do not think that \n\nver I shall thrive or prosper. And I hope you will be \n\nleased to pray to God for me.' \" \nBaxter considered that the \" vows of God were upon \nhim,\" and that he must continue to preach wherever \nDivine providence opened a door for the purpose. His \nobligations to God he considered superior to those by \nwhich he was bound to obey the ordinances of man ■ \n\nq Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n98 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nand therefore, though forbidden by law, and in despite \nof persecution, he continued to preach the Gospel to \nhis ignorant and perishing countrymen. \n\nHe says: \"Being driven from home, and having an \nold license of the bishop's yet in force, by the counte- \nnance of that, and the great industry of Mr. Berisford, \nI had leave and invitation for ten Lord's days to preach \nin the churches round about. The first that I preached \nin, after thirteen years' ejection and prohibition, was \nRickmanworth, and after that, at Sarratt, at King's \nLangley, at Chesham, at Charlfont, and at Amersham, \nand that often twice a-day. Those heard who had not \ncome to church for seven years; and two or three \nthousand heard, where scarcely a hundred were wont \nto come ; and with so much attention and willingness, \nas gave me very great hopes that I never spake to \nthem in vain. And thus soul and body had these spe- \ncial mercies.\" \n\n\" When I had been kept a whole year from preach- \ning in the chapel which I built, on the 16th of April, \n1676, I began in another, in a tempestuous time; such \nwas the necessity of the parish of St. Martin's, where \nabout 60,000 souls have no church to go to, nor any \npublic worship of God ! How long, Lord !\" \n\n\" Being denied forcibly the use of the chapel which \nI had built, I was forced to let it stand empty, and pay \nthirty pounds per annum for the ground-rent myself, \nand glad to preach for nothing, near it, at a chapel \nbuilt by another, formerly in Swallow-street, because \nit was among the same poor people that had no \npreaching.\" \n\nInterruptions and informations were so numerous at \nSwallow-street that he was obliged to discontinue his \nlabors there. \" It pleased God to take away, by tor \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 99 \n\nment of the stone, that excellent faithful minister, Mr. \nThomas Wadsworth, in Southwark ; and just when I \nwas thus kept out at Swallow-street, his flock invited \nme to Southwark, where, though I refused to be their \npastor, I preached many months in peace, there being \nno justice willing to disturb us.\" \n\n\" When Dr. Lloyd became pastor of St Martin's in \nthe Fields, I was encouraged by Dr. Tillotson to offer \nhim my chapel in Oxendon-street for public worship, \nwhich he accepted, to my great satisfaction, and now \nthere is constant preaching there. Be it by conformist \nor nonconformists, I rejoice that Christ is preached.\" \n\nHis reputation, too, was assailed. He was charged \nwith uttering falsehood, and with the crime of mur- \nder ! He was able, however, successfully to refute the \ncalumnies, and to confound his calumniators. \n\nAbout this period, 1681, Baxter was called to endure \na severe and trying providence, in the death of his wife. \nThey had lived together nineteen years. She had been \nhis companion in tribulation ; his comforter in sorrow. \nAnimated by her piety and her influence, he had per- \nsevered in all his attempts to do good. But, now, in \nthe advance of life, in weakened health, in persecution, \nand in no distant prospect of imprisonment, he was \nleft to pursue his journey alone. She died in the faith \nand hope of the Gospel, June 17, 1681. \n\nHe still pursued his studies and his occasional labors. \n\" Having been for retirement in the country, from Ju- \nly till August 14, 1682, returning in great weakness, I \nwas able only to preach twice, of which the last was \nin my usual lecture in New-street, and it fell out to be \nAugust 24, just that day twenty years, that I, and near \ntwo thousand more, had been by law forbidden to \npreach any more. I was sensible of God's wonderful \n\n\n\n100 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nmercy that had kept so many of us twenty years in so \nmuch liberty and peace, while so many severe laws \nwere in force against us, and so great a number were \nround about us who wanted neither malice nor power \nto afflict us. And so I took, that day, my leave of the \npulpit and public work, in a thankful congregation. \nAnd it is like, indeed, to be my last. \n\n\" But after this, when I had ceased preaching, I \nwas, being newly arisen from extremity of pain, sud- \ndenly surprised in my house by a poor violent inform- \ner, and many constables and officers, who rushed in \nand apprehended me, and served on me one warrant \nto seize on my person, for coming within five miles of \na corporation 5 and five more warrants^ to distrain for \na hundred and ninety pounds for five sermons. They \ncast my servants into fears, and were about to take all \nmy books and goods, and I contentedly went with \nthem towards the justice to be sent to jail, and left my \nhouse to their will. But Dr. Thomas Coxe. meeting \nme, forced me in again to my couch and bed, and went \nto five justices and took his oath, without my know- \nledge, that I could not go to prison without danger of \ndeath. Upon that the justices delayed a day, till they \ncould speak with the king, and told him what the doc \ntor had sworn ; and the king consented that the pre- \nsent imprisonment should be forborne, that I might \ndie at home. But they executed all their warrants on \nmy books and goods, even the bed that I lay sick on, \nand sold them all ; and some friends paid them as much \nmoney as they were prized at, which I repaid.\" \n\n\" When I borrowed some necessaries I was never \nthe quieter; for they threatened to come upon me \nagain and take all as mine, whosesoever it was, which \nthey found in my possession. So that 1 had no reme- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 101 \n\ndy, but utterly to forsake my house, and goods, and \nall, and take secret lodgings distant in a stranger's \nhouse. But having a long lease of my own house, \nwhich binds me to pay a greater rent than now it is \nworth, wherever I go I must pay that rent. \n\n\" The separation from my books would have been \na greater part of my small affliction, but that I found \nI was near the end both of that work and life which \nneedeth books, and so I easily let go all. Naked came \nI into the world, and naked must I go out. \n\n' : But I never wanted less what man can give, than \nwhen men had taken all. My old friends, and stran- \ngers to me, were so liberal, that I was constrained to \ncheck their bounty. Their kindness was a surer and \nlarger revenue to me than my own. \n\n\" But God was pleased quickly to put me past all \nfear of man, and all desire of avoiding suffering from \nthem by concealment, by laying on me more himself \nthan man can do. Their imprisonment, with tolera- \nble health, would have seemed a palace to me ; and \nhad they put me to death for such a duty as they per- \nsecute me for, it would have been a joyful end of my \ncalamity. But day and night I groan and languish un- \nder God's just afflicting hand. As waves follow waves \nin the tempestuous seas, so one pain and danger fol- \nlows another in this sinful miserable flesh. I die daily, \nand yet remain alive. God, in his great mercy, know- \ning my dullness in health and ease, makes it much \neasier to repent and hate my sin, and loath myself, \nand contemn the world, and submit to the sentence of \ndeath with willingness, than otherwise it was ever like \nto have been. O how little is it that wrathful enemies \ncan do against us, in comparison of what our sin and \nthe justice of God can do ! And how little is it that \n\nL. B. 9* \n\n\n\n102 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthe best and kindest of friends can do for a pained \nbody or a guilty soul, in comparison of one gracious \nlook or word from God ! Wo be to him that has no \nbetter help than man ; and blessed is he whose help \nand hope is in the Lord.\" \n\n\" While I continued, night and day, under constant \npain, and often strong, and under the sentence of ap- \nproaching death by an incurable disease, which age \nand great debility yields to, I found great need of the \nconstant exercise of patience by obedient submission to \nGod ; aud, writing a small Tract of it for my own use, \nI saw reason to yield to them that desired it might be \npublished, there being especially so common need of \" \n'obedient patience.' \" \n\n\" Under my daily pains I was drawn to a work which \nI had never the least thoughts of, and is like to be the \nlast of my life, to write a paraphrase on the New Tes- \ntament. Mr. John Humphrey having long importuned \nme to write a paraphrase on the Epistle to the Romans, \nwhen I had done that, the usefulness of it to myself \ndrew me farther and farther, till I had done all. But \nhaving confessed my ignorance of the Revelation, and \nyet unwilling wholly to omit it, I gave but general \nnotes, with the reasons of my uncertainty in the great- \nest difficulties, which I know will fall under the sharp \ncensure of many. But truth is more valuable than \nsuch men's praises. I fitted the whole, by plainness, \nto the use of ordinary families. \n\n\"After many times deliverance from the sentence \nof death, on November 20, 1684. in the very entrance \nof the seventieth year of my age, God was pleased so \ngreatly to increase my painful diseases, as to pass on \nme the sentence of a painful death. But God turns it \nto my good, and gives me a greater willingness to die \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 103 \n\nthan I once thought I should ever have attained. The \nLord teach me more fully to love his will and rest \ntherein, as much better than my own, that often strives \nagainst it. \n\n; ' A little before this, while I lay in pain and lan- \nguishing, the justices of sessions sent warrants to ap- \nprehend me, about a thousand more being also on the \nlist, to be all bound to good behavior. I thought they \nwould send me six months to prison for not taking the \nOxford oath, and dwelling in London, and so I refused \nto open my chamber door to them, their warrant not \nbeing to break it open. But they set six officers at my \nstudy door, who watched all night, and kept me from \nmy bed and food ; so that the next day I yielded to \nthem, who carried me, scarce able to stand, to their \nsessions, and bound me, in a four hundred pounds 5 bond, \nto good behavior. I desired to know what my crime \nwas, and who were my accusers; but they told me it \nwas for no fault, but to secure the government in evil \ntimes ; and that they had a list of many suspected per- \nsons, who must do the like as well as I. I desired to \nknow for What I was numbered with the suspected, \nand by whose accusation ; but they gave me good \nwords, and would not tell me. I told them I would \nrather they would send me to jail than put me in cir- \ncumstances to wrong others by being bound with me \nin bonds that I was like to break to-morrow; for if \nthere did but five persons come in when I was praying, \nthey would take it for a breach of good behavior. They \ntold me not, if they came on other business unexpect- \nedly, and not to a set meeting ; nor yet if we did no- \nthing contrary to law, or the practice of the church. \nI told them our innocency was not now any security \nto us. If two beggar women did but stand in the street \n\n\n\n104 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nand swear that I spake contrary to the law, though \nthey heard me not, my bonds and liberty were at their \nwill; fori myself, lying on my bed, heard Mr. I. R. \npreach in a chapel on the other side of my chamber, \nand yet one Sibil Dash and Elizabeth Cappell swore \nto the justices that it was another that preached; two \nmiserable poor women that made a trade of it, and had \nthus sworn against very many worthy persons in Hack- \nney and elsewhere, on which their goods were seized \nfor fines. But to all this I received no answer. I must \ngive bond. \n\n\" But all this is so small a part of my suffering, in \ncomparison of what I bear in my flesh, that I could \nscarce regard it ; and it is small in comparison of what \nothers suffer. Many excellent persons die in common \njails: thousands are ruined. That holy humble man, \nMr. Rosewell, is now under a verdict for death as a \ntraitor for preaching some words, on the witness and \noath of Hilton's wife, and one or two more women, \nwhose husbands live professedly on the trade, for which \nhe claims many hundred or thousand pounds. And not \nonly the man declares, but many of his hearers wit- \nness, that no such words were spoken, nor any that did \nnot become a loyal, prudent man. \n\n\"December 11, I was forced, in all my pain and \nweakness, to be carried to the sessions-house, or else \nmy bond of four hundred pounds would have been \njudged forfeited. And the more moderate justices, that \npromised my discharge, would none of them be there, \nbut left the work to Sir William Smith and the rest, \nwho openly declared that they had nothing against \nme, and took me for innocent, but yet I must continue \nbr.nna, lest others should expect to be discharged also, \nwhich 1 openly refused. But my sureties would be \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 105 \n\nbound, lest I should die in jail, against my declared \nwill, and so I must continue.\" \n\n\" January 17. I was forced again to be carried to the \nsessions, and after divers days good words, which put \nme in expectation of freedom, when I was gone, one \n\njustice, Sir Deerham, said it was probable that \n\nthese persons solicited for my liberty that they might \ncome to hear me in conventicles ; and on that they \nbound me again in a four hundred pounds' bond for \nabove a quarter of a year, and. so it is likely to be till \nI die, or worse ; though no one ever accused me for \nany conventicle or preaching since they took all my \nbooks and goods above two years ago, and I, for the \nmost part, keep my bed.\" \n\nHis greatest trial was now hastening. His \"Para- \nphrase on the New Testament \" gave great offence in \ncertain quarters, and was made the ground of a trial \nfor sedition. \n\nThe following account of this extraordinary trial and \nits issue are given by Calamy, and in a letter from a \nperson who was present on the occasion : \n\n\" On the 28th of February Baxter was committed to \nthe King's-Bench prison, by warrant of Lord Chief \nJustice Jefferies, for his ' Paraphrase on the New Tes- \ntament,' which had been printed a little before, and \nwhich was described as a scandalous and seditious \nbook against the government. On his commitment by \nthe chief justice's warrant, he applied for a habeas \ncorpus, and having obtained it, he absconded into the \ncountry to avoid imprisonment, till the term approach- \ned. He was induced to do this from the constant pain \nhe endured, and an apprehension that he could not \nbear the confinement of a prison. \n\n\" On the 6th of May, which was the first day of the \n\n\n\n106 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nterm, he appeared in Westminster-Hall, and an infor- \nmation was then drawn up against him. On the 14th \nof May he pleaded not guilty to the information. On \nthe 18th of the same month, being much indisposed, it \nwas moved that he might have further time given him \nbefore his trial, but this was denied him. He moved \nfor it by his counsel ; but Jefferies cried out, in a pas- \nsion, ' I will not give him a minute's time more, to save \nhis life. We have had to do,' said he, ' with other \nsorts of persons, but now we have a saint to deal with ; \nand I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. \nYonder,' said he, ' stands Oates in the pillory,' (as he \nactually did at that very time in the new Palace Yard,) \n' and he says he suffers for the truth, and so says Bax- \nter; but if Baxter did but stand on the other side of \nthe pillory with him, I would say, two of the greatest \nrogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there.' \n\n\" On May 30, in the afternoon, Baxter was brought \nto trial before the lord chief justice at Guild-hall. \nSir Henry Ashurst, who would not forsake his own \nand his father's friend, stood by him all the while. \nBaxter came first into court, and with all the marks \nof sincerity and composure, waited for the coming of \nthe lord chief justice, who appeared quickly after, with \ngreat indignation in his face. \n\n\" ' When I saw,' says an eye witness, ' the meek \nman stand before the flaming eyes and fierce looks of \nthis bigot, I thought of Paul standing before Nero. \nThe barbarous usage which he received drew plenty \nof tears from my eyes, as well as from others of the \nauditors and spectators. \n\n\"Jefferies no sooner sat down than a short cause \nwas called and tried ; after which the clerk began to \nread the title of another cause. * You blockhead,' said \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 107 \n\nJefleries, ' the next cause is between Richard Baxter \nand the king :' upon which Baxter's cause was called. \n\n\" On the jury being sworn, Baxter objected to them, \nas incompetent to his trial, owing to its peculiar na- \nture. The jurymen being tradesmen, and not scholars, \nhe alledged they were incapable of pronouncing wheth- \ner his 'Paraphrase' was or was not according to the \noriginal text. He therefore prayed that he might have \na jury of learned men, though the one-half of them \nshould be papists. This objection, as might have been \nexpected, was overruled by the court. \n\n\" The king's counsel opened the information at large, \nwith its aggravations. Mr. Pollexfen, Mr. Wallop, Mr. \nWilliams, Mr. Rotherham, Mr. Atwood, and Mr. Phipps, \nwere Baxter's counsel, and had been engaged by Sir \nHenry Ashurst. \n\n\"Pollexfen then rose and addressed the court and \nthe jury. He stated that he was counsel for the pri- \nsoner, and felt that he had a very unusual plea to \nmanage. He had been obliged, he said, by the nature \nof the cause, to consult all our learned commentators, \nmany of whom, learned, pious, and belonging to the \nchurch of England too, concurred with Mr. Baxter in \nhis paraphrase of those passages of Scripture which \nwere objected to in the indictment, and by whose help \nhe would be enabled to manage his client's cause. 'I \nshall begin,' said he, 'with Dr. Hammond: and, gen- \ntlemen, though Mr. Baxter made an objection against \nyou, as not fit judges of Greek, which has been over- \nruled, I hope you understand English common sense, \nand can read.' To which the foreman of the jury \nmade a profound bow, and said, ' Yes, sir.' \n\n\" On this the chief justice burst upon Pollexfen like \na furv. and told him he should not sit there to hear \n\n\n\n108 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nhim preach. c No, my lord,' said Pollexfen, 'I am eoun \nsel for Mr. Baxter, and shall offer nothing but what is \nto the point.' 'Why, this is not,- said Jefferies, 'that \nyou cant to the jury beforehand.' ' I beg your lord- \nship's pardon,' said the counsel, 'and shall then pro- \nceed to business.' ' Come then,' said Jefferies, ' what do \nyou say to this count? read it, clerk:' referring to the \nparaphrase on >Iark, 12 : 38-40. ' Is he not, now, an \nold knave, to interpret this as belonging to liturgies?' \n'So do others,' replied Pollexfen, 'of the church of \nEngland, who would be loth so to wrong the cause of \nliturgies as to make them a novel invention, or not to \nbe able to date them as early as the scribes and pha- \nrisees.' 'No, no, Mr. Pollexfen,' said the judge: 'they \nwere long-winded, extempore prayers, such as they \nused to say when they appropriated God to themselves . \n\"Lord, we are thy people, thy peculiar people, thy \ndear people.\" ' And then he clenched his hands and \nlifted up his eyes, mimicking their manner, and run- \nning on furiously, as he said they used to pray. ' Pol- \nlexfen,' said Jefferies, ' this is an old rogue, who has \npoisoned the world with his Kidderminster doctrine. \nDon't we know how he preached formerly, \"Curse \nye Meroz ; curse them bitterly that come not to the \nhelp of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the \nmighty.\" He encouraged all the women and maids \nto bring their bodkins and thimbles to carry on their \nwar against the king, of ever blessed memory. An old \nschismatical knave, a hypocritical villain!' \n\n\" Mr. Wallop said that he conceived the matter de- \npending being a point of doctrine, it ought to be re- \nferred to the bishop, his ordinary : but if not, he hum- \nbly conceived the doctrine was innocent and justifiable, \nsetting aside the inucndos, for which there was no \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 109 \n\ncolor, there being no antecedent to refer them to, \n(i. e. no bishop or clergy of the church of England \nnamed;) he said the book accused contained many \neternal truths: but they who drew the information \nwere the libellers, in applying to the prelates of t>e \nchurch of England those severe things which were \nwritten concerning some prelates who deserved the \ncharacters which he gave. 'My lord,' said he, 'I hum- \nbly conceive the bishops Mr. Baxter speaks of, as your \nlordship, if you have read church history, must con- \nfess, were the plagues of the church and of the world.' \n\"Mr. Rotherham urged 'that if Mr. Baxter's book \nhad sharp reflections upon the church of Rome by \nname, but spake well of the prelates of the church of \nEngland, it was to be presumed that the sharp reflec- \ntions were intended only against the prelates of the \nchurch of Rome.' The lord chief justice said, 'Baxter \nwas an enemy to the name and thing, the office and \npersons of bishops.' Rotherham added, that Baxter \nfrequently attended divine service, went to the sacra- \nment, and persuaded others to do so too, as was cer- \ntainly and publicly known; and had, in the very book \nso charged, spoken very moderately and honorably of \nthe bishops of the church of England.' \n\n\" Baxter added, ' My lord, I have been so moderate \nwith respect to the church of England, that I have in- \ncurred the censure of many of the dissenters upon that \naccount.' 'Baxter for bishops!' exclaimed Jefferies, \n' that is a merry conceit indeed : turn to it, turn to it. \nUpon this Rotherham turned to a place where it is \nsaid ' that great respect is due to those truly called to \nbe bishops among us; or to that purpose. 'Ay,' said \nJefferies, 'this is your Presbyterian cant; truly called \nto ne bishops : that is himself, and such rascals, called \n\nin Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n110 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nto be bishops of Kidderminster, and other such place*. \nBishops set apart by such factious Presbyterians a» \nhimself: a Kidderminster bishop lie means. ' \n\n\"Baxter beginning to speak again, Jefferies reviled \nhim; 'Richard, Richard, dost thou think we'll hear \nthee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old fellow, \nan old knave ; thou hast written books enough to load \na cart, every one as full of sedition, I might say trea- \nson, as an egg is of meat. Hadst thou been whipped \nout of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been \nhappy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the Gospel \nof peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave : it is \ntime for thee to begin to think what account thou in- \ntendest to give. But, leave thee to thyself, and I set; \nthou'lt go on as thou hast begun ; but, by the grace of \nGod, I'll look after thee. I know thou hast a mighty \nparty, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in \ncorners, waiting to see what will become of their \nmighty don ; and a doctor of the party (looking at Dr. \nBates) at your elbow ; but, by the grace of Almighty \nGod, I'll crush you all. Come, what do you say for \nyourself, you old knave? come, speak up ! What doth \nhe say? I am not afraid of you, for all the snivelling \ncalves you have about you:' alluding to some persons \nwho were in tears about Mr. Baxter. 'Your lordship \nneed not be,' said the holy man ; ' for I'll not hurt you. \nBut these things will surely be understood one day • \nwhat fools one sort of protestants are made to perse- \ncute the other!' And, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he \nsaid, 'I am not concerned to answer such stuff; but \nam ready to produce my writings for the confutation \nof all this; and my life and conversation are known \nto many in this nation.' \n\n\"Mr. Rotherham sitting down, Mr. Atwood began \n\n\n\nLITE OF BAXTER. Ill \n\nto show that not one of the passages mentioned in the \ninformation ought to be strained to the sense which \nwas put upon them by the imiendos; they being more \nnatural when taken in a milder sense : nor could any \none of them be applied to the prelates of the church \nof England, without a very forced construction. To \nprove this, he would have read some of the text: but \n.Tefferies cried out. ' You shan't draw me into a con- \nventicle with your annotations, nor )~our snivelling \nparson neither.' 'My lord,' said Mr. Atwood, 'that I \nmay use the best authority, permit me to repeat your \nlordship's own words in that case.' 'No, you shan't,' \nsaid he: 'you need not speak, for you are an author \nalready ; though you speak and write impertinently.' \nAtwood replied, ' I can't help that, my lord, if my \ntalent be no better; but it is my duty to do my best \nfor my client.' \n\n\"Jefferies then w r ent on inveighing against what \nAtwood had published ; and Atwood justified it as in \ndefence of the English constitution, declaring that he \nnever disowned any thing that he had written Jef- \nferies several times ordered him to sit down; but he \nstill went on. 'My lord,' said he, 'I have matter of \nlaw to urge for my client.' He then proceeded to cite \nseveral cases wherein it had been adjudged that words \nought to be taken in the milder sense, and not to be \nstrained by inuendos. 'Well,' said Jefferies, when he \nhad done, ' you have had your say.' \n\n\"Mr. Williams and Mr. Phipps said nothing, for \nthey saw it was to no purpose. At last Baxter himself \nsaid, ' My led, I think I can clearly answer all that is \nlaid to my charge, and I shall do it briefly. The sum \nis contained in these few papers, to which I shall add \na little by testimony ' But he would not hear a word. \n\n\n\n112 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nAt length the chief justice summed up the matter iu \na long and fulsome harangue. ' It was notoriously \nknown,' he said, ' there had been a design to ruin the \nking and the nation. The old game had been renewed ; \nand this person had been the main incendiary. He is \nas modest now as can be ; but time was, when no man \nwas so ready at, \" Bind your kings in chains, and your \nnobles in fetters of iron ;\" and, ' ; To your tents, O \nJsrael.\" Gentlemen, (with an oath,) don't let us be \ngulled twice in an age.' And when he concluded, he \ntold the jury ' that if they in their consciences be- \nlieved he meant the bishops and clergy of the church \nof England in the passages which the information re- \nferred to, and he could mean nothing else, they must \nfind him guilty. If not, they must find him not guilty/' \n\"When he had done, Baxter said to him, ' Does your \nlordship think any jury will pretend to pass a verdict \nupon me upon such a trial?' 'I'll warrant you, Mr. \nBaxter,' said he, ' don't you trouble yourself about that.' \n\n\" The jury immediately laid their heads together ai \nthe bar, and found him guilty. As he was going from \nthe bar, Baxter told the lord chief justice, who had \nso loaded him with reproaches, and still continues \nthem, that a predecessor of his had had other thoughts \nof him ; upon which he replied, ' that there was not \nan honest man in England but what took him for a \ngreat knave.' Baxter had subpoenaed several clergy- \nmen, who appeared in court, but were of no use to \nhim, through the violence of the chief justice. The \ntrial being over, Sir Henry Ashurst led him through \nthe crowd, and conveyed him away in his coach.\" \n\nThis is a faithful portrait of Jcfferies, who furnish- \ned Bunyan with the features of his chief justice, the \nLord Hategood. Can we be insensible to the mercies \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 113 \n\nwe enjoy in the very different administration of justice \nin onr own times? \n\n\" On the 29th of June Baxter had judgment given \nagainst him. He was fined five hundred marks, con- \ndemned to lie in prison till he paid it, and bound to \nhis good behavior for seven years. It is said that Jef- \nferies proposed a corporal punishment, namely, whip- \nping through the city ; but his brethren would not ac- \ncede to it. In consequence of which the fine and im- \nprisonment were agreed to. \n\n\" Baxter being unable to pay the fine, and aware \nthat, though he did, he might soon be prosecuted again, \non some equally unjust pretence, went to prison. Here \nhe was visited by his friends, and even by some of the \nrespectable clergy of the church, who sympathised \nwith his sufferings and deplored the ^justice he re- \nceived. He continued in this imprisonment nearly \ntwo years, during which he enjoyed more quietness \nthan he had done for many years before. \n\nu An imprisonment of two years would have been \nfound very trying and irksome to most men ; to Bax- \nter, however, it does not appear to have pro /ed so pain- \nful, though he had now lost his beloved wife, who had \nfrequently before been his companion in solitude and \nsuffering. His friends do not appear to have neglected \nor forgotten him. The following extract of a letter from \nthe well known Matthew Henry, presents a pleasing \nview of the manner in which he endured bonds and \nafflictions for Christ's sake. It is addressed to his fa- \nther, and dated the 17th of November, 1685, when \nBaxter had been several months confined. Mr. Wil- \nliams justly remarks, ' It is one of those pictures of \ndays which are past, which, if rightly viewed, p»a> \nproduce lasting and beneficial effects ; emotions of sa- \n\nt. B. 10* \n\n\n\n114 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ncred sorrow for the iniquity of persecution, and ani- \nmating praise that the demon in these happy days of \ntranquillity is restrained, though not destroyed.' \n\n\" ' I went into Southwark, to Mr. Baxter. I was to \nwait upon him once before, and then he was busy. 1 \nfound him in pretty comfortable circumstances, though \na prisoner, in a private house near the prison, attended \nby his own man and maid. My good friend Mr. Samuel \nLawrence went with me. He is in as good health as \none can expect ; and, methinks, looks better, and speaks \nheartier, than when J. saw him last. The token you \nsent he would by no means be persuaded to accept \n(and was almost angry when I pressed it) from one \nejected as well as himself. He said he did not use to \nreceive ; and I understand since, his need is not great. \n\n\" We sat with him about an hour. He gave us some \ngood counsel to prepare for trials, and said the best \npreparation for them was a life of faith and a constant \ncourse of self-denial. He thought it harder constantly \nto deny temptations to sensual appetites and pleasures, \nthan to resist one single temptation to deny Christ for \nfear of suffering ; the former requiring such constant \nwatchfulness ; however, after the former, the latter will \nbe the easier. He said, we who are young are apt to \ncount upon great things, but we must not look for \nthem; and much more to this purpose. He said he \nthought dying by sickness usually much mere painful \nand dreadful than dying a violent death, especially \nconsidering the extraordinary supports which those \nhave who suffer for righteousness' sake.\" \n\nVarious efforts were made by his friends to have his \nfine remitted, which, after considerable delay, was ac- \ncomplished. \n\n11 On the 24th of November, 1686, Sir Samuel Astrey \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 115 \n\nsent his warrant to the keeper of the King's Bench \nprison to discharge Baxter. He gave sureties, how- \never, for his good behavior, his majesty declaring, for \nhis satisfaction, that it should not be interpreted a \nbreach of good behavior for him to reside in London, \nwhich was not inconsistent with the Oxford act. After \nthis release he continued to live some time within the \nrules of the Bench ; till, on the 28th of February, 1687, \nhe removed to his house in the Charterhouse-yard ; \nand again, as far as his health would permit, assisted \nMr. Sylvester in his public labors.\" \n\n\" After his injurious confinement,\" says his friend \nSylvester, in the funeral sermon which he preached \nfor Baxter, \" he settled in Charterhouse-yard, in Rut- \nlandhouse, and bestowed his ministerial assistance gra- \ntis upon me. Thereupon he attended every Lord's day \nin the morning, and every other Thursday morning at \na weekly lecture. Thus were we yoked together in \nour ministerial work and trust, to our great mutual sa- \ntisfaction; and because his respects to me, living and \ndying, were very great, I cannot but the more feel the \nloss. I had the benefit and pleasure of always free ac- \ncess to him, and instant conversation with him ; and \nby whom could I profit more than by himself? So \nready was he to communicate his thoughts to me, and \nso clearly would he represent them, as that I may truly \nsay, it was greatly my own fault if he left me not \nwiser than he found me, at all times. \n\n\" After he had continued with me about four years \nand a half he was disabled from going forth to his mi- \nnisterial work; so that what he did he performed for \nthe residue of his life in his own hired house, where \nhe opened his doors, morning and evening, every day, \nto all that would come to join in family worship with \n\n\n\n116 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nhim; to whom he read the Holy Scriptures, from \nwhence he ' preached the kingdom of God, and taught \nthose things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, \nwith all confidence, no man forbidding him,' Acts, \n28 : 30, 31, even as one greater than himself had done \nbefore him. But, alas, his growing diseases and in- \nfirmities soon forbade this also, confining him first to \nhis chamber, and after to his bed. There, through \npain and sickness, his body wasted ; but his soul abode \nrational, strong in faith and hope, preserving itself in \nthat patience, hope, and joy, through grace, which \ngave him great support, and kept out doubts and fears \nconcerning his eternal welfare.\" \n\nHe still labored with his pen. Even on the very \nborders of eternity he was desirous to improve the fleet- \ning moments. \" He continued to preach,\" Dr. Bates \nobserves, in his funeral discourse, \"so long, notwith- \nstanding his wasted, languishing body, that the last \ntime he almost died in the pulpit. Not long after, he \nfelt the approaches of death, and was confined to his \nsick-bed. Death reveals the secrets of the heart; then \nwords are spoken with most feeling and least affecta- \ntion. This excellent man was the same in his life and \ndeath ; his last hours were spent in preparing others \nand himself to appear before God. He said to his \nfriends that visited him, ' You come hither to learn \nto die; I am not the only person that must go this \nway. I can assure you that your whole life, be it ever \nso long, is little enough to prepare for death. Have a \ncare of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the \nflesh ; be sure you choose God for your portion, hea- \nven for your home, God's glory for your end, his word \nfor your rule, and then you need never fear but we \nshall meet with comfort.' • \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 1 17 \n\ni: Never was penitent sinner more humble, never was \na sincere believer more calm and comfortable. He ac- \nknowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill worm \n(it was his usual expression) that ever went to heaven. \nHe admired the divine condescension to us, often say- \ning, ' Lord, what is man ; what am I, vile worm, to the \ngreat God !' Many times he prayed, ' God be merciful \nto me a sinner,' and blessed God that this was left upon \nrecord in the Gospel as an effectual prayer. He said. \n' God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever \ndid ; all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in \nChrist.' which he often prayed for. \n\n\" After a slumber, he waked, and said, c I shall rest \nfrom my labor.' A minister then present said, ' And \nyour works will follow you.' To whom he replied, \n' No works; I will leave out works, if God will grant \nme the other.' When a friend was comforting him \nwith the remembrance of the good many had receive' \nby his preaching and writings, he said, ' I was but u \npen in God's hands, and what praise is due to a pen V \n\n\" His resignation to the will of God in his sharp \nsickness was eminent. When extremity of pain con- \nstrained him earnestly to pray to God for his release \nby death, he would check himself: ' It is not fit for me \nto prescribe — when Thou wilt, what Thou wilt, how \nThou wilt.' \n\n\" Being in great anguish, he said, ' O, how unsearch- \nable are His ways, and his paths past finding out ; the \ndepths of his providence we cannot fathom !' And to \nhis friends, ' Do not think the worse of religion for \nwhat you see me suffer. 5 \n\n\" Being often asked by his friends, how it was with \nhis inward man, he replied, ' I bless God I have a well- \ngrounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great \n\n\n\n1 18 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\npeace and comfort within.' Bnt it was his regret lliat \nlie could not triumphantly express it, by reason of his \nextreme pains. He said, ' Flesh must perish, and we \nmust feel the perishing of it ; and that though Jus judg- \nment submitted, yet sense would still make him groans? \n\" Being asked whether lie had not great joy from bis \nbelieving apprehensions of the invisible state, he re- \nplied, 'What else, think you, Christianity serves fori\" \nHe said, the consideration of the Deity in his glory and \ngreatness was too high for our thought ; but the consi- \nderation of the Son of God in our nature, and of the \nsaints in heaven, whom he knew and loved, did much \nsweeten and familiarize heaven to him. The descrip- \ntion of it, in Heb. 12:22-24, was most animating u> \nhim ; 'that he was going to the innumerable company \nof angels, and to the general assembly and church of \nthe first-born, whose names are written in heaven; \nand to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just \nmen made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new \ncovenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaketh \nbetter things than the blood of Abel.' That scripture, \nhe said, deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. 0, \nhow comfortable is that promise ; ' Eye hath not seen, \nnor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of \nman, the things which God hath prepared for them \nthat love him.' At another time he said that lie found \ngreat comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of \nthe Lord's prayer, and was sorry some good people \nwere prejudiced against the use of it, for there were all \nnecessary petitions for soul and body contained in it. \nAt other times he gave excellent counsel to young mi- \nnisters that visited him ; earnestly prayed God to bless \ntheir labors, and make them very successful in con- \nverting souls to Christ ; expressed great joy in the \n\n\n\nLIFZ OF BAXTER. 119 \n\nhope that God would do a great deal of good by them ; \nand that they were of moderate, peaceful spirits. \n\n\" He often prayed that God would be merciful to \nthis miserable, distracted world ; and that he would \npreserve his church and interest in it. He advised his \nfriends to beware of self-conceit, as a sin that was \nlikely to ruin this nation ; and said, 'I have written a \nbook against it, which I am afraid has done little good.' \nBeing asked whether he had altered his mind on con- \ntroversial points, he said, those that pleased might \nknow his mind in his writings ; and that what he had \ndone was not for his own reputation, but for the glory \nof God. \n\n\"I went to him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. ?»Ia- \nther, of New-England, the day before he died; and \nspeaking some comforting words to him, he replied, ' I \nhave pain; there is no arguing against sense; but I \nhave peace, I have peace.' I said, you are now ap- \nproaching your long-desired home ; he answered, ' I \nbelieve, I believe.' He said to Mr. Mather, ' I bless \nGod that you have accomplished your business ; the \nLord prolong your life.' He expressed his great wil- \nlingness to die ; and during his sickness, when the \nquestion was asked, ' How he did V his reply was, \n' Almost well.' His joy was most remarkable, when, in \nhis own apprehension, death was nearest ; and his spi- \nritual joy was at length consummated in eternal joy.\" \n\n\"As to himself, even to the last,\" says Mr. Sylvester, \n\" I never could perceive his peace and heavenly hopes \nassaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly \nlament that he felt no greater liveliness in what ap- \npeared so great and clear to him, and so very much \ndesired by him. As to the influence thereof upon his \nspirit, in order to the sensible refreshment of it, he \n\n\n\n120 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nclearly saw what ground he had to rejoice in God j he \ndoubted not of his title to heaven, through the merits \nof Christ. He told me he knew it would be well with \nhim when he was gone. He wondered to hear others \nspeak of their so passionately strong desires to die, and \nof their transports of spirit when sensible of their ap- \nproaching death, as he did not so vividly feel their \nstrong consolations. But when I asked him whether \nmuch of this was not to be resolved into bodily con- \nstitution, he said it might be so. The heavenly state \nwas the object of his severe and daily thoughts and \nsolemn contemplations; for he set some time apart \nevery day for that weighty work. He knew that nei- \nther grace nor duty could be duly exercised without \nserious meditation. And as he was a scribe instructed \ninto the kingdom of heaven, so he both could and did \ndraw forth out of his treasures things new and old, to \nhis own satisfaction and advantage, as well as to the \nbenefit of others/' \n\n\" He had frequently, before his death, owned to me \nhis continuance in the same sentiments that he had ex- \nhibited to the world in his polemic discourses, especial- \nly about justification, and the covenants of works and \ngrace, &c. And being asked, at my request, whether \nlie had changed his former thoughts about those things, \nhis answer was, that he had told the world suffi- \nciently his judgment concerning them by words and \nwriting, and thither he referred men. And then lifting \nup his eyes to heaven, he uttered these words, ' Lord, \npity, pity, pity the ignorance of this poor city.' \n\n\"On Monday, the day before his death, a great \ntrembling and coldness awakened nature, and extorted \nstrong cries for pity from Heaven ; which cries and \nagony continued for some time, till at length he ceas- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER, 121 \n\ncd those ciies. and so lay in a patient expectation of his \nchange. And being once asked by his faithful friend \nand constant attendant upon him in his weakness, \nworthy and faithful Mrs. Bushel, his housekeeper, \nwhether he knew her or no, requesting some signifi- \ncation of it if he did, he softly said, ' Death, death !' \nAnd now he felt the benefit of his former preparations \nfor such a trying hour. And, indeed, the last words that \nhe spake to me, being informed that I was come to see \nhim, were these, 'O, I thank him, I thank him ;' and \nturning his eyes to me, he said, ' The Lord teach you \nto die.' \" \n\n\" On Tuesday morning, about four o'clock, Decem- \nber 8th, 1691, he expired ; though he expected and de- \nsired his dissolution to have been on the Lord's day \nbefore, which, with joy, to me he called a high day, be- \ncause of his desired change expected then by him.\" \n\nA report was quickly spread abroad after his death, \nthat he was exercised on his dying bed with doubts \nrespecting the truths of religion, and his own personal \nsafety, which report Mr. Sylvester thus refutes : \n\n\" Of what absurdity will not degenerate man be \nguilty! We know nothing here that could, in the \nleast, minister to such a report as this. I that was with \nhim all along, have ever heard him triumphing in his \nheavenly expectation, and ever speaking like one that \ncould never have thought it worth a man's while to be, \nwere it not for the great interest and ends of godliness. \nHe told me that he doubted not but it would be best \nfor him, when he had left this life and was translated \nto the heavenly regions. \n\n\" He owned what he had written, with reference to \n(he things of God, to the very last. He advised those \nthat came, near him, carefully to mind their soul's con- \n\n1 I Baxter, Life. \n\n\n\n122 LIFE OF BAXTER \n\ncerns. The shortness of time, the importance of eter- \nnity, the worth of souls, the greatness of God, the \nriches of the grace of Christ, the excellency and im- \nport of an heavenly mind and life, and the great use- \nfulness of the word and means of grace pursuant to \neternal piirposes, ever lay pressingly upon his own \nheart, and extorted from him very useful directions \nend encouragements to all that came near him, even \nto the last ; insomuch that if a polemical or casuistical \npoint, or any speculation on philosophy or divinity, \nhad been but offered to him for his resolution, after \nthe clearest and briefest representation of his mind \nwhich the proposer's satisfaction called for, he present- \nly and most delightfully fell into conversation about \nwhat related to our Christian hope and work.\" \n\n\"Baxter was buried in Christ-church, London, where \nthe ashes of his wife and her mother had been deposit- \ned. His funeral was attended by a great number of \npersons of different ranks, especially of ministers, con- \nfv>rmists as well as nonconformists, who were eager \nto testify their respect for one of whom it might have \nbeen said with equal truth, as of the intrepid reformer \nof the north, ' There lies the man who never feared \nthe face of man.'\" \n\nIn his last will, made two years before his death, he \nsays, \" I, Richard Baxter, of London, clerk, an un- \nworthy servant of Jesus Christ, drawing to the end of \nthis transitory life, having, through God's great mercy, \nthe free use of my understanding, do make this my \nlast will and testament, revoking all other wills for- \nmerly made by me. My spirit I commit, with trust \nand hope of the heavenly felicity, into the hands of \nJesus, my glorified Redeemer and Intercessor ; and, \nby his mediation, into the hands of God my reconcil- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 123 \n\ned Father, the infinite eternal Spirit, Light, Life, and \nLove, most great, and wise, and good, the God of na- \nture, grace, and glory ; of whom, and through whom, \nand to whom are all things ; my absolute Owner, Ru- \nler, Benefactor, whose I am, and whom I, though im- \nperfectly, serve, seek, and trust; to whom be glory for \never, amen. To him I render the most humble thanks, \nthat he hath filled up my life with abundant mercy, \nand pardoned my sins by the merits of Christ, and \nvouchsafed, by his Spirit, to renew me and seal me as \nhis own ; and to moderate and bless to me my long \nsufferings in the flesh, and at last to sweeten them by \nhis own interest and comforting approbation.\" He \nbequeathed his books to \"poor scholars,\" and the resi- \ndue of his property to the poor. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nHIS PERSON — VIEWS OF HIMSELF, AND GENERAL \nCHARACTER. \n\nHaving proceeded to the grave, and committed his \n\" remains to their long and final resting-place, it will \nbe proper to present the views which were formed of \nhis character, both by himself and friends. \n\n\" His person,\" Mr. Sylvester states, \" was tall and \nslender, and stooped much; his countenance composed \nand grave, somewhat inclining to smile. He had a \npiercing eye, a very articulate speech, and his deport- \nment rather plain than complimental. He had a great \n\n\n\n124 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ncommand over his thoughts. His character answered \nthe description given of him by a learned man dis- \nsenting from him, after discourse with him ; that ' he \ncould say what he would, and he could prove what he \nsaid.' » \n\nSome few years before his death, Baxter took a mi- \nnute and extensive survey of his own character, and \ncommitted it to paper. From this paper ihe following \nextracts are taken : — \n\n\" As it is soul-experiments which those that urge me \nto this kind of writing expect I should especially com- \nmunicate to others, and I have said little of God's deal- \ning with my soul since the time of my younger years, \nI shall only give the reader what is necessary to ac- \nquaint him truly what change God has made upon my \nmind and heart since those earlier times, and wherein \nI now differ in judgment and disposition from my for- \nmer self. And, for any more particular account of \nheart-occurrences, and God's operations on me, I think \nit somewhat unsuitable to recite them ; seeing God's \ndealings are much the same with all his servants in the \nmain, and the points wherein he varieth are usually so \nsmall, that I think such not proper to be repeated. Nor \nhave I any thing extraordinary to glory in, which is \nnot common to the rest of my brethren, who have the \nsame Spirit, and are servants of the same Lord. And \nthe true reason why I do adventure so far upon the \ncensure of the world as to tell them wherein the case \nis altered with me, is, that I may prevent young inex- \nperienced Christians from being over-confident in their \nfirst apprehensions, or overvaluing their first degrees \nof grace, or too much applauding and following unfur- \nnished inexperienced men, and that they may be in \nsome measure directed what mind and course of life to \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 125 \n\nprefer, by the judgment of one that has tried both be- \nfore them. \n\n\"The temper of my mind has somewhat altered \nwith the temper of my body. When I was young, I \nwas more vigorous, affectionate, and fervent in preach- \ning, conference, and prayer, than ordinarily I can be \nnow ; my style was more extemporary and lax, but by \nthe advantage of affection, and a very familiar moving \nvoice and utterance, my preaching then did more affect \nthe auditory than many of the last years before I gave \nover preaching ; but yet what I delivered was much \nmore raw, and had more passages that would not bear \nthe trial of accurate judgments, and my discourses \nhad both less substance and less judgment than of late. \n\n\"In my younger years my trouble for sin was most \nabout my actual failings, in thought, word, or action ; \nnow I am much more troubled for inward defects, and \nomission or want of the vital duties or graces in the \nsoul. My daily trouble is so much for my ignorance \nof God, and weakness of belief, and want of greater \nlove to God, and strangeness to him and to the life to \ncome, and want of a greater willingness to die, and ot \na longing to be with God in heaven, — that I take not \nsome immoralities, though very great, to be in them- \nselves so great and odious sins, if they could be found se- \nparate from these. Had I all the riches of the world, \nhow gladly should I give them for a fuller knowledge, \nbelief, and love of God and everlasting glory ! These \nwants are the greatest burdens of my life, which \noften make my life itself a burden. And I cannot find \nany hope of reaching so high in these while I am in \nthe flesh, as I once hoped before this time to have at- \ntained ; which makes me the more weary of this sinful \n\nl. b. a* \n\n\n\n126 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nworld, which is honored with so little of the know \nledge of God. \n\n\" Heretofore I placed much of my religion in ten- \nderness of heart, and grieving for sin, and penitential \ntears ; and less of it in the love of God, and studying \nhis love and goodness, and in his joyful praises^ than \nI now do. Then I was little sensible of the greatness \nand excellency of love and praise, though I coldly \nspake the same words in its commendation as I now \ndo. And now I am less troubled for want of grief and \ntears, though I more value humility, and refuse not \nneedful humiliation ; but my conscience now looks at \nlove and delight in God, and praising him, as the height \nof all my religious duties, for which it is that I value \nand use the rest. \n\n\" My judgment is much more for frequent and seri- \nous meditation on the heavenly blessedness, than it \nwas in my younger days. I then thought that ser- \nmons on the attributes of God and the joys of hea- \nven were not the most excellent ; and was wont to \nsay, ' Every body knows this, that God is great and \ngood, and that heaven is a blessed place ; I had rather \nhear how I may attain it.' And nothing pleased me so \nwell as the doctrine of regeneration, and the marks of \nsincerity, because these subjects were suitable to me in \nthat state ; but now I had rather read, hear, or medi- \ntate on God and heaven, than on any other subject ; for \nI perceive that it is the object that changes and elevates \nthe mind, which will be like what it most frequently \nfeeds upon ; and that it is not only useful to our com- \nfort to be much in heaven in our believing thoughts, \nbut that it must animate all our other duties, and for \ntify us against every temptation and sin j and that a \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 127 \n\nman is no more a Christian indeed, than as he is \nheavenly. \n\n14 1 was once wont to meditate most on my own \nheart, and to dwell all at home, and look little higher. \nI was still poring either on my sins or wants, or exa- \nmining my sincerity; but now, though I am greatly \nconvinced of the need of heart-acquaintance and em- \nployment, yet I see more need of a higher work ; and \nthat I should look oftener upon Christ, and God, and \nheaven, than upon my own heart. At home I can find \ndistempers to trouble me, and some evidences of my \npeace ; but it is above that I must find matter of de- \nlight and joy, and love and peace itself. Therefore I \nwould have one thought at home, upon myself and \nsins, and many thoughts above, upon the high, and \namiable, and beatifying objects. \n\n\" Heretofore 1 knew much less than now, and yet \nwas not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. \nI had a great delight in the daily new discoveries \nwhich I made, and in the light which shined upon me, \nlike a man that comes into a country where he never \nwas before ; but I little knew either how imperfectly I \nunderstood those very points, whose discovery so much \ndelighted me, nor how much might be said against \nthem, nor how many things I was yet a stranger to; \nbut now I find far greater darkness upon all things, \nand perceive how very little it is that we know in com- \nparison of that which we are ignorant of, and I have \nfar meaner thoughts of my own understanding, though \nI must needs know that it is better furnished than it \nwas then. \n\n\" I now see more good and more evil in all men \nthan heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so \ngood as I once thought they were, but have more im- \n\n\n\n128 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nperfections ; and that nearer approach, and fuller trial, \ndoth make the best appear more weak and faulty than \ntheir admirers at a distance think. And I find that few \nare so bad as either their malicious enemies, or censo- \nrious separating professors do imagine. \n\n\" I less admire gifts of utterance and bare profes- \nsion of religion than I once did ; and have much more \ncharity for many, who, by the want of gifts, do make \nan obscurer profession than they. I once thought that \nalmost all that could pray movingly and fluently, and \ntalk well of religion, were saints. But more observa- \ntion has opened to me what odious crimes may con- \nsist with high profession ; and I have met with divers \nobscure persons, not noted for any extraordinary pro- \nfession or forwardness in religion, but only to live a \nquiet, blameless life, whom I have after found to have \nlong lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and \nsanctified life ; only their prayers and duties were, by \naccident, kept secret from other men's observation. \nYet he that, upon this pretence, would confound the \ngodly and the ungodly, may as well go about to lay \nheaven and hell together. \n\n\" I am not so narrow in my special love as hereto- \nfore. Being less censorious, and talking more than I \ndid for saints, it must needs follow that I love more as \nsaints than I did before. \n\n\" I am much more sensible how prone many young \nprofessors are to spiritual pride and self-conceitedness. \nand unruliness and division, and so to prove the grief \nof their teachers, and firebrands in the church ; and \nhow much of a minister's work lies in preventing this, \nand humbling and confirming such young inexperi- \nenced professors, and keeping them in order in their \nprogress in religion. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 129 \n\n\"I am more deeply afflicted for the disagreements \nof Christians, than I was when I was a younger Chris- \ntian. Except the case of the infidel world, nothing is \nso sad and grievous to my thoughts as the case of the \ndivided churches ; and therefore I am more deeply \nsensible of the sinfulness of those prelates and pastors \nof the churches who are the principal cause of these \ndivisions. O how many millions of souls are kept by \nthem in ignorance and ungodliness, and deluded by \nfaction, as if it were true religion ! How is the conver- \nsion of infidels hindered by them, and Christ and re- \nligion heinously dishonored ! \n\n\" I am much less regardful of the approbation of \nman, and set much lighter by contempt or applause, \nthan I did long ago. I am often suspicious that this \nis not only from the increase of self-denial and humi- \nlity, but partly from my being glutted and surfeited \nwith human applause; and all worldly things appear \nmost vain and unsatisfactory when we have tried them \nmost. But as far as I can perceive, the knowledge of \nman's nothingness, and God's transcendent greatness, \nwith whom it is that I have most to do, and the sense \nof the brevity of human things, and the nearness of \neternity, are the principal causes of this effect, which \nsome have imputed to self-conceitedness and mo- \nroseness. \n\n\" I am more and more pleased with a solitary life ; \nand though, in a way of self-denial, I could submit to \nthe most public life, for the service of God, when he \nrequires it, and would not be unprofitable that I might \nbe private ; yet, I must confess, it is much more pleas- \ning to myself to be retired from the world, and to have \nvery little to do with men, and to converse with God \nand conscience, and good books. \n\n\n\n130 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\"Though I was never much tempted to the sin of \ncovetousness, yet my fear of dying was wont to tell \nme that I was not sufficiently loosened from. the world. \nBut I find that it is comparatively very easy to me to \nbe loose from this world, but hard to live by faith \nabove. To despise earth is easy to me ; but not so easy \nto be acquainted and conversant with heaven. I have \nnothing in this world which I could not easily let go; \n: at, to get satisfying apprehensions of the other world \n: the great and grievous difficulty. \n\n\" I am much more apprehensive than long ago of \nhe odiousness and danger of the sin of pride: scarce \nany sin appears more odious to me. Having daily \nmore acquaintance with the lamentable naughtiness \nand frailty of man, and of the mischiefs of that sin, \nand especially in matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, \nI think, so far as any man is proud, he is kin to the \ndevil, and a stranger to God and to himself. It is a \nwonder that it should be a possible sin, to men that \nstill carry about with them, in soul and body, sucli \nhumbling matter of remedy as we all do. \n\n\" I more than ever lament the unhappiness of the \nnobility, gentry, and great ones of the world, who live \nin such temptation to sensuality, curiosity, and wast- \ning of their time about a multitude of little things ; and \nwhose lives are too often the transcript of the sins of \nSodom — pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idle- \nness, and want of compassion to the poor. And I more \nvalue the life of the poor laboring man, but especially \nof him that hath neither poverty nor riches. \n\nu I am much more sensible than heretofore, of the \nbreadth, and length, and depth of the radical, univer- \nsal, and odious sin of selfishness, and therefore have \nwritten so much against it; and of the excellency and \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 131 \n\nnecessity of self-denial, and of a public mind, and of \nloving our neighbor as ourselves. \n\n\" I am more and more sensible that most controver- \nsies have more need of right stating than of debating ; \nand if my skill be increased in any thing, it is in nar- \nrowing controversies by explication, and separating \nthe real from the verbal, and proving to many con- \ntenders that they in fact differ less than they think \nthey do. \n\n\" f am more solicitous than I have been about my \nduty to God, and less solicitous about his dealings with \nme, as being assured that he will do all things well, \nacknowledging the goodness of all the declarations of \nliis holiness, even in the punishment of man, and \nknowing that there is no rest but in the will and good- \nness of God. \n\n\"Though my habitual judgment, and resolution, \nand scope of life be still the same, yet I find a great \nmutability as to actual apprehensions and degrees of \ngrace; and consequently find that so mutable a thing \nas the mind of man would never keep itself, if God \nwere not its keeper. \n\n\"Thus much of the alterations of my soul, since \nmy younger years, I thought best to give the reader, \ninstead of all those experiences and actual motions and \naffections which I suppose him rather to have expec- \nted an account of. And having transcribed thus much \nof a life which God has read, and conscience has read, \nand must further read, I humbly lament it, and beg \npardon of it, as sinful, and too unequal and unprofit- \nable. And I warn the reader to amend that in his \nown, which he finds to have been amiss in mine; con- \nfessing, also, that much has been amiss which I have \nnot here particularly mentioned, and that I have not \n\n\n\n132 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nlived according to the abundant mercies of the Lord. \nCut what I have recorded, has been especially to per- \nform my vows, and to declare his praise to all gen- \nfiations, who has filled my days with his invaluable \nfavors, and bound me to bless his name for ever. \n\na But having mentioned the changes which I think \nwere for the better, I must add, that as I confessed \nmany of my sins before, so, I have been since guilty oJ \nmany, which, because materially they seemed small \nhave had the less resistance, and yet, on the review, do \ntrouble me more than if they had been greater, done \nin ignorance. It can be no small sin which is com- \nmitted against knowledge, and conscience, and deli- \nberation, whatever excuse it have. To have sinned \nwhilst I preached and wrote against sin, and had such \nabundant and great obligations from God, and made \nso many promises against it, lays me very low; not \nso much in fear of hell, as in great displeasure against \nmyself, and such self-abhorrence as would cause re- \nvenge against myself, were it not forbidden. When \n(*od forgives me, I cannot forgive myself; especially \nfor any rash words or deeds, by which I have seemed \ninjurious, and less tender and kind than I should have \nbeen to my near and dear relations, whose love abun \ndantly obliged me; when such are dead, though we \nnever differed in point of interest, or any great matter, \nevery sour or cross provoking word which I gave them \nmakes me almost irreconcileable to myself. \n\n\" I mention all these faults that they may be a warn- \ning to others to take heed, as they call on myself for \nrepentance and watchfulness. O Lord, for the merits, \nand sacrifice, and intercession of Christ, be merciful \nto me a sinner, and forgive my known and unknown \nsins!\" \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 133 \n\nDr Bates has drawn a full-length portrait of the \ncharacter of his venerable friend in his funeral sermon, \nfrom which some extracts will now be given. \n\n\"He had not the advantage of academical educa- \ntion; but, by the Divine blessing upon his rare dex- \nterity and diligence, his eminence in sacred knowledge \nwas such as few in the university ever arrive to.\" \n\nki Conversion is the excellent work of Divine grace: \nthe efficacy of the means is from the Supreme Mover. \nBut God usually makes those ministers successful in \nthat blessed work, whose principal design and delight \nvs to glorify him in the saving of souls. This was the \nreigning affection in his heart; and he was extraordi- \nnarily qualified to obtain his end. \n\n\"His prayers were an effusion of the most lively \nmelting expressions, growing out of his intimate ar- \ndent affections to God : from the abundance of his \nheart, his lips spake. His soul took wing for heaven, \nand wrapped up the souls of others with him. Never \ndid I see or hear a holy minister address himself to \nGod with more reverence and humility, with respect \nto his glorious greatness ; never with more zeal and \nfervency, correspondent to the infinite moment of his \nrequests ; nor with more filial affiance in the Divine \nmercy.\" \n\nAs a specimen of his prayers, two quotations from \nhis published writings may be given. Addressing the \nDivine Spirit, he says, \" As thou art the Agent and \nAdvocate of Jesus my Lord, O plead his cause effec- \ntually in my soul against the suggestions of Satan and \nmy unbelief; and finish his healing, saving work, and \nlet not the flesh or world prevail. Be in me the resi- \ndent witness of my Lord, the Author of my prayers, \nthe Spirit of adoption, the seal of God, and the earnest \n\nJ O Baxter, Life, \n\n\n\n134 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nof mine inheritance. Let not my nights be so long, and \nmy days so short, nor sin eclipse those beams which \nhave often illuminated my soul. Without these, books \nare senseless scrawls, studies are dreams, learning is \na glow-worm, and wit is but wantonness, impertinence \nand folly. Transcribe those sacred precepts on my \nheart, which by thy dictates and inspirations are re- \ncorded in thy holy word. I refuse not thy help for \ntears and groans ; but O shed abroad that love upon my \nheart, which may keep it in a continual life of love. \nTeach me the work which I must do in heaven ; re- \nfresh my soul with the delights of holiness, and the \njoys which arise from the believing hopes of the ever- \nlasting joys. Exercise my heart and tongue in the \nholy praises of my Lord. Strengthen me in sufferings; \nand conquer the terrors of death and hell. Make me \nthe more heavenly, by how much the faster I am hast- \nening to heaven ; and let my last thoughts, words, and \nworks on earth, be most like to those which shall be \nmy first in the state of glorious immortality; where \nthe kingdom is delivered up to the Father, and God \nwill for ever be all, and in all ; of whom, and through \nwhom, and to whom, are all things, to whom be glo- \nry for ever. Amen.\" \n\nAnother specimen may be given from Baxter's con- \nclusion of his work on the \"Saints' Rest.\" \n\n\"O Thou, the merciful Father of spirits, the attrac- \ntive of love, and ocean of delight ! draw up these dros- \nsy hearts unto thyself, and keep them there till they \nare spiritualized and refined ! Second thy servant's \nweak endeavors, and persuade those that read these \nlines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! \nO ! suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant \nto be a stranger to those joys which he describes to \n\n\n\nLIEE OF BAXTER. 135 \n\nothers ; but keep me, while I remain on earth, in daily \nbreathing after thee, and in a believing, affectionate \nwalking with thee. And, when thou comest, let me be \nfound so doing; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with \nmy lamp unfurnished, but waiting and longing for my \nLord's return. Let those who shall read these pages, \nnot merely read the fruit of my studies, but the breath- \ning of my active hope and love ; that if my heart were \nopen to their view, they might there read thy love \nmost deeply engraven with a beam from the face of \nthe Son of God ; and not find vanity, or lust, or pride \nwithin, where the words of life appear without; that \nso these lines may not witness against me ; but pro- \nceeding from the heart of the writer, may they be \neffectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the \nreader, and so be the savior of life to both.\" \n\nDr. Bates says : \" In his sermons there was a rare \nunion of arguments and motives to convince the mind \nand gain the heart. All the fountains of reason and \npersuasion were open to his discerning eye. There \nwas no resisting the force of his discourses, without \ndenying reason and Divine revelation. He had a mar- \nvellous felicity and copiousness in speaking. There \nwas a noble negligence in his style; for his great mind \ncould not stoop to the affected eloquence of words: he \ndespised flashy oratory, but his expressions were clear \nand powerful ; so convincing the understanding, so \nentering into the soul, so engaging the affections, that \nthose were as deaf as adders who were not charmed \nby so wise a charmer. He was animated by the Holy \nSpirit, and breathed celestial fire, to inspire heat and. \njife into dead sinners, and to melt the obdurate in their \nfrozen tombs. Methinks I still hear him speak those \npowerful words : ' A wretch that is condemned to die \n\n\n\n136 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nto-morrow cannot forget it: and yet poor sinners, that \ncontinually are uncertain to live an hour, and certain \nspeedily to see the majesty of the Lord, to their incon- \nceivable joy or terror, as sure as they now live on \nearth, can forget these things, for which they have \ntheir memory ; and which one would think, should \ndrown the matters of this world, as the report of a \ncannon does a whisper, or as the sun obscures the poor- \nest glow-worm. wonderful stupidity of the unrenew- \ned soul ! O wonderful folly and madness of the ungod- \nly ! That ever men can forget— I say again, that they \ncan forget eternal joy, eternal wo, and the eternal God, \nand the place of their eternal unchangeable abode?, \nwhen they stand even at the door ; and there is but \nthat thin veil of flesh between them and that amazing \nsight, that eternal gulf, and they are daily dying and \nHtepping in.\" \n\nTo this may be added a quotation from a sermon \npreached before the judges at the assizes : \" Honora- \nble, worshipful, and well-beloved, it is a weighty em- \nployment that occasions your meeting here to-day. \nThe estates and lives of men are in your hands. But \nit is another kind of judgment which you are all \nhastening towards; when judges and juries, the ac- \ncusers and the accused, must all appear upon equal \nterms, for the final decision of a far greater cause. \nThe case that is then and there to be determined, is not \nwhether you shall have lands or no lands, life or no \nlife, in our natural sense ; but whether you shall have \nheaven or hell, salvation or damnation, and endless life \nof glory with God and the Redeemer, and the angels \nof heaven, or an endless life of torment with devils \nand ungodly men. As sure as you now sit on those \nseats, you shall shortly all appear before the Judge of \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 137 \n\nall the world, and there receive an irreversible sen- \ntence to an unchangeable state of happiness or misery. \nThis is the great business that should presently call up \nyour most serious thoughts, and set all the powers of \nyour souls on work for the most effectual preparation ; \nthat, if you are men, you may acquit yourselves like \nmen, for the preventing of that dreadful doom which \nunprepared souls must there expect. The greatest ot \nyour secular affairs are but dreams and toys to this. \nWere you at every assize to determine causes of no \nlower value than the crowns and kingdoms of the mo- \nnarchs of the earth, it were but as children's games to \nthis. If any man of you believe not this, he is worse \nthan the devil that tempteth him to unbelief; and let \nhim know that unbelief is no prevention, nor will put \noff the day, or hinder his appearance ; but will render \ncertain his condemnation at that appearance, \n\n\" He that knows the law and the fact, may know be- \nfore your assize what will become of every prisoner, if \nthe proceedings be all just, as in our case they will cer- \ntainly be. Christ will j udge according to his laws ; know, \ntherefore, whom the law condemns or justifies, and \nyou may know whom Christ will condemn or justify. \nAnd seeing all this is so, does it not concern us all to \nmake a speedy trial of ourselves in preparation for this \nfinal trial 1 I shall, for your own sakes, therefore, take \nthe boldness, as the officer of Christ, to summon you to \nappear before yourselves, and keep an assize this day \nin your own souls, and answer at the bar of conscience \nto what shall be charged upon you. Fear not the trial ; \nfor it is not conclusive, final, or a peremptory irrever- \nsible sentence that must now pass. Yet slight it not ; \nfor it is a necessary preparative to that which is final \nand irreversible.\" \n\nL. B. 12* \n\n\n\ni38 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nAfter describing the vanities of the world, he bursts \nforth : \" What ! shall we prefer a mole-hill before a \nkingdom? A shadow before the substance? An hour \nbefore eternity ? Nothing before all things ? Vanity \nand vexation before feMcity ? The cross of Christ hath \nset up such a sun as quite darkeneth the light of \nworldly glory. Though earth were something, if there \nwere no better to be had, it is nothing when heaven \nstandeth by.\" \n\nDr. Bates further remarks : \" Besides, his wonderful \ndiligence in catechising the particular families under \nhis charge was exceeding useful to plant religion in \nthem. Personal instruction, and application of divine \ntruths, has an excellent advantage and efficacy to in- \nsinuate and infuse religion into the minds and heart* \nof men, and, by the conversion of parents and masters \nto reform whole families that are under their imme \ndiate direction and government. His unwearied indus \ntry to do good to his flock, was answered by corres \npondent love and thankfulness. He was an angel in \ntheir esteem. He would often speak with great com- \nplacence of their dear affections; and, a little before \nhis death, said, ' He believed they were more expres \nsive of kindness to him, than the Christian converts \nwere to the apostle Paul, by what appears in his \nwritings.' \" \n\n\" His books, for their number and the variety of mat- \nter in them, make a library. They contain a treasure \nof controversial, casuistical, positive, and practical di \nvinity. Of them I shall relate the words of one whose \nexact judgment, joined with his moderation, will give \na great value to his testimony ; they are those of Dr. \nWilkins, afterwards bishop of Chester. He said that \nMr. Baxter had ( cultivated every subject he handled ;• \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 139 \n\nand ' if he had lived in the primitive times, he had been \none of the fathers of the church,' and ' thr-t it was \nenough for one age to produce such a person as Mr. \nBaxter.' Indeed, he had such an amplitude in his \nthoughts, such a vivacity of imagination, and such so- \nlidity and depth of judgment as rarely meet in one \nman. His inquiring mind was freed from the servile \ndejection and bondage of an implicit faith. He adhered \nto the Scriptures as the perfect rule of faith, and \nsearched whether the doctrines received and taught \nwere consonant to it. This is the duty of every Chris- \ntian according to his capacity, especially of minis- \nters, and the necessary means to open the mind for \nDivine knowledge, and for the advancement of the \ntruth.\" \n\n\" His books of practical divinity have been effectual \nfor more numerous conversions of sinners to God than \nany printed in our time ; and while the church remains \non earth, will be of continual efficacy to recover lost \nsouls. There is a vigorous pulse in them that keeps the \nreader awake and attentive. His book of the ' Saints' \nEverlasting Rest,' was written by him when languish- \ning in the suspense of life and death, but has the sig- \nnatures of his holy and vigorous mind. To allure our \ndesires, he unveils the sanctuary above, and discovers \nthe glory and joys of the blessed in the Divine pre- \nsence, by a light so strong and lively, that all the glit- \ntering vanities of this world vanish in that comparison, \nand a sincere believer will despise them, as one of ma- \nture age does the toys and baubles of children. To ex- \ncite our fear he removes the skreen, and makes the \neverlasting fire of hell so visible, and represents the \ntormenting passions of the damned in those dreadful \ncolors, that, if duly considered, would check and \n\n\n\n140 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\ncontrol the unbridled licentious appetites of the most \nsensual.\" \n\nBaxter's practical writings alone occupy four pon- \nderous folio, or twenty-two octavo volumes. If a com- \nplete collection of his controversial and practical writ- \nings were made, they would occupy fully sixty volumes \nof the same size. \" His industry was almost incredible \nin his studies. He had a sensitive nature, desirous of \nease, as others have, and faculties like others, liable to \ntire ; yet such was the continual application of him- \nself to his great work, as if the labor of one day had \nsupplied strength for another, and the willingness of \nthe spirit had supported the weakness of the flesh/' \nHis painful and incessant afflictions would have pre- \nvented an ordinary man from attempting any thing ; \nbut he persevered with unwearied industry to the close \nof his days. His life was occupied, too, in active labors. \nIn camps and at court, in his parish and in prison, at \nhome and abroad, his efforts were unremitting and \noften successful. \n\nSome idea of his sufferings may be formed from the \nsummary of his diseases given by his late biographer. \n\n•' His constitution was naturally sound, but he was \nalways very thin and weak, and early affected with \nnervous debility. At fourteen years of age he was \nseized with the small-pox, and soon after, by improper \nexposure to the cold, he was affected with a violent \ncatarrh and cough. This continued for about two years, \nand was followed by spitting of blood and other phthi- \nsical symptoms. He became, from that time, the sport \nof medical treatment and experiment. One physician \nprescribed one mode of cure, and another a different \none ; till, from first to last, he had the advice of no less \nthan thirty-six professors of the healing art. By their \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. L ■* 1 \n\norders he took drugs without number, till, from ex- \nperiencing how little they could do for him, he for- \nsook them entirely, except some particular symptom \nurged him to seek present relief. He was diseased lite- \nrally from head to foot ; his stomach flatulent and acidu- \nlous ; violent rheumatic head-aches; prodigious bleed- \ning at the nose ; his legs swelled and dropsical, &c. \nIiis physicians called it hypochondria, he himself con- \nsidered it pr&maHira senecttts, premature old age; so \nthat at twenty he had the symptoms, in addition to \ndisease, of fourscore ! To be more particular would \nbe disagreeable ; and to detail the innumerable reme- \ndies to which he was directed, or which he employed \nhimself, would add little to the stock of medical know- \nledge. He was certainly one of the most diseased and \nafflicted men that ever reached the full ordinary limits \nof human life. How, in such circumstances, he was \ncapable of the exertions he almost incessantly made, \nappears not a little mysterious. His behavior under \nthem is a poignant reproof to many, who either sink \nentirely under common afflictions, or give way to \nindolence and trifling. For the acerbity of his temper \nwe are now prepared with an ample apology. That \nhe should have been occasionally fretful, and impatient \nof contradiction, is not surprising, considering the \nstate of the earthen vessel in which his noble and ac- \ntive spirit was deposited. No man was more sensible \nof his obliquities of disposition than himself : and no \nman, perhaps, ever did more to maintain the ascend- \nancy of Christian principle over the strength and way- \nwardness of passion.\" \n\nThe conviction that his time would be short, urged \nhim to prosecute his labors with unwearied assiduity. \nLove to immortal souls, loo, exerted its powerful in- \n\n\n\n142 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nfluence. This \"love to the souls of nun,\" says Dr \nBates, \"was the peculiar character of his spirit. In \nthis he imitated and honored our Savior, who prayed, \ndied, and lives for the salvation of souls. All his na- \ntural and supernatural endowments were subservient \nto that blessed end. It was his meat and drink, the life \nand joy of his life to do good to souls.\" \n\nDisinterestedness formed no unimportant feature of \nhis character, and was strikingly marked in his refusal \nof ecclesiastical preferment; his self-denying engage- \nments respecting his stipend at Kidderminster; his \ngratuitous labors ; abundant alms-giving ; and the wide \ndistribution of his works among the poor and destitute. \nSo long as he had a bare maintenance he was content. \nHe rejoiced in being able to benefit others by his pro- \nperty or his labors. \n\nFidelity to his Divine Master, and to his cause, was \nconspicuous in all his engagements. He tendered his \nadvice, or administered his reproofs with equal faith- \nfulness, whether in conrt or camp ; to the king or to \nthe protector ; before parliament or his parishioners; \nin his conversation or his correspondence. He could \nnot suffer sin upon his neighbor ; and whatever he con- \nceived would be for the benefit of those concerned, that \nhe faithfully, and without compromise, administered. \nIn his preaching he \" shunned not to declare the whole \ncounsel of God.\" \n\nDr. Bates remarks : \" lie that was so solicitous for \nthe salvation of others, was not negligent of his own. \nIn him the virtues of the contemplative and active life \nwere eminently united. His time was spent in com- \nmunion with God, and in charity to men. He lived \nabove the world, and in solitude and silence conversed \nwith God. The frequent and seiious meditation ol \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 143 \n\neternal things was the powerful means to make his \nheart holy and heavenly, and from thence his conver- \nsation. His life was a practical sermon, a drawing ex- \nample. There was an air of humility and sanctity in \nhis mortified countenance ; and his deportment was be- \ncoming a stranger upon earth and a citizen of heaven.\" \n\nThe following passage from his interesting impor- \ntant work, entitled \" The Divine Life,\" may be con- \nsidered as a portrait of his own spiritual character. \n\n\" To walk with God,\" he says, \" is a phrase so high, \nthat I should have feared the guilt of arrogance in \nusing it, if I had not found it in the Holy Scriptures. \nIt is a phrase that imports so high and holy a frame \nof soul, and expresses such high and holy actions, that \nthe naming of it strikes my heart with reverence, as if \nI had heard the voice to Moses, 'Put off thy shoes \nfrom off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest \nis holy ground.' Methinks he that shall say to me, \nCome, see a man that walks with God, doth call me \nto see one that is next unto an angel or glorified soul. \nIt is a far more reverend object in mine eye than ten \nthousand lords or princes, considered only in their \nearthly glory. It is a wiser action for people to run \nand crowd together to see a man that walks with God, \nthan to see the pompous train of princes, their enter- \ntainments, or their triumph. O, happy man that walks \nwith God, though neglected and contemned by all \nabout him! What blessed sights does he daily see! \nWhat ravishing tidings, what pleasant melody does he \ndaily hear ! What delectable food does he daily taste! \nHe sees, by faith, the God, the glory which the blessed \nspirits see at hand by nearest intuition ! He sees that \nin a glass, and darkly, which they behold with open \nface ! He sees the glorious majesty of his Creator, the \n\n\n\n144 LIFE Of BAXTER. \n\neternal King, the Cause of causes, the Composer, Up- \nholder, Preserver, and Governor of all worlds ! He be- \nholds the wonderful methods of his providence; ane \nwhat he cannot fully see he admires, and Waits foi \nthe time when that also shall be open to his view ! H< \nsees, by faith, the world of spirits, the hosts that attenc \nthe throne of God ; their perfect righteousness, then \nfull devotedness to God ; their ardent love, their flam \ning zeal, their ready and cheerful obedience, their dig- \nnity and shining glory, in which the lowest of them \nexceed that which the disciples saw on Moses and \nElias, when they appeared on the holy mount and \ntalked with Christ ! He hears by faith the heavenly \nconcert, the high and harmonious songs of praise, the \njoyful kriumphs of crowned saints, tne sweet comme- \nmorations of the things that were done and suffered \non earth, with the praises of Him that redeemed them \nby his blood, and made them kings and priests unto \nGod. Herein he has sometimes a sweet foretaste of the \neverlasting pleasures which, though it be but little, as \nJonathan's honey on the end okhis rod, or as the clus- \nters brought from Canaan intoflthe wilderness; yet is \nmore excellent than all the delights of sinners.\" \n\nHis character may be summed up in the words of \nMr. Orme : \" Among his contemporaries there were \nmen of equal talents, of more amiable dispositions, and \nof greater learning. But there was no man in whom \nthere appears to have been so little of earth, and so \nmuch of heaven ; so small a portion of the alloy of hu- \nmanity, and so large a portion of all that is celestial. \nHe felt scarcely any of the attractions of this world, \nbut felt and manifested the most powerful affinity fur \nthe world to come.\" \n\nEND. \n\n\n\nDeacidified using the Bookkeeper process \nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide \nTreatment Date: Nov. 2005 \n\nPreservationTechnologies \n\nA WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATIOI \n\n1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive \nCranberry Township, PA 16066 \n(724)779-2111 \n\n\n\n"
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    "content": "\n\n\nCvCC \n\n\n\na c: CIS: \n\n■ <£ <tC. <L_C \n\nc cc\" «C C \n\na cc c~;c \n\nccc <:;cr \n\nc «c o \n\nC <CI C \n\nC C <ZT \n\nc c <n< \n\nc cC <n \"■ \n\nCI \n\nc c CL ^ \n^ <£CC CZL \n\n\n\nc \n\n\n<z <r «i \n\n\n'4C1_ \n\n\n< \n\n\n^ «c«^_<i \n\n\nc .. \n\n\nCI CT<CL < \n\n\n^^ \n\n\nc \n\n\n2 CO \n\n\nc \n\n\nCI<^CC .^ \n\n\nCI \n\n\n< \n< \n\n\n<£*-\" d_* \n\n\n2 «CJO \n\n\nc \n\n\n<Z^Cc<C \n\n\n^r~j \n\n\n4 \n\n\nc?. - <k <z \n\n\nc \n\n\n~ <Z <£<<<3C \n\n\n4dj_ \n\n\nt \n\n\nG iCC \n\n\n'<:' \n\n\n: <l <xc<c « \n\n\nC~ \n\n\nc \n\n\nr ^£2 \n\n\nC \n\n\nc: esc « \n\n\n■ 4 \n\n\n^•: \n\n\n;<^^jg \n\n\nc: \n\n\ncr^cc c \n\n\n< \n\n\n\n\n; ^^ \n\n\nc \n\n\nC^CcCC «C \n\n\n\"^ < \n\n\n! \n\n\n<KjCi \n\n\nc \n\n\n<z<^<:<: \n\n\n\"-\"< \n\n\n\n\n<ETd \n\n\nc \n\n\n; <zz<mc<c \n\n\n^ S \n\n\nCXLd; \n\n\nc \n\n\n\n\n«r \n\n\n< \n\n\n<£X3 \n\n\nc; \n\n\n' <3^c ■ «C \n\n\n<: \n\n\n\"St \n\n\nCSL<C3 \n\n\nc \n\n\n<Zj^L*£ \n\n\n<: \n\n\n<JLCI \n\n\nc \n\n\n<Z^ci<C \n\n\n<: \n\n\n\n\n<^ <c- \n\n\nc \n\n\n<33£C \"4£2 \n\n\n<r \n\n\n<r \n\n\n, * CSLC3 \n\n\n\n\n<3:cc«c \n\n\n5CJ \n\n\n<£_XLi« \n\n\nb \n\n\n_-.<j®i«2 \n\n\no \n\n\n<T~C5g \n\n\n\n*RY OF CONGRESS. \n\n\n\n^T7 \n\n\n\ni f ov) \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA, \n\n\n\nc-.C\" < \n\ncrc \n\n\n\n«CZC C<C \n\n\n\n\n\n\nCCv \n\n\n\nc<XC \n<■ «c c \n\n\n\nc c \n\n\n\n\n\n\nOx<3 \nC3r<^£ \n\nC< \n\n\n\n<:• \n\nCI \n\n*C \n\n\n\n\n\n\ncc \n\n_ « <3 CI \n\n\n\ncc« 01 <-* \n\n\n\n<lcl<C d< \n<Tc< cc <j* \n\n<;c cc <3 \n\n:o ,( c ( \n\n\n\n\n\n\n<r< \n\n\n\n\": c \n:,.c:.. ■■<_•<: \n\nL1C5< \n\nCjC \n\nI < \n\n\n\nc«tor \n\n\n\n■ <®< \n\n\n\n\n\n\n<zr<cc-.c;_ <CS \n\n\n\n<3£cC \n\n\n\n<LC < C \n\n\n\n' <C <■ C \n\n\n\n«r<< \n\n\n\n\n\n\n' <Z<i r c \n\nC^ c \n<Tc \"C \n\n\n\n\n\n\n<X c<^ \n\n\n\n; ~i \n\n\n\nSospef Trutfi, \n\n\n\nOR \n\n\n\nGOD'S WORD \n\n\n\nABOUT \n\n\n\nMAN AND SALVATION \n\n\n\nC. M. WHITTELSEY and E. P. GARDNER. \n\n\n\n• \n\n\n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n\n150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. \n\n-#-»- ■ ■ — ; ■»• # • \n\n\n\nGOSPEL TRUTH, \n\n\n\nOR \n\n\n\nGOD'S WORD ABOUT MAN AND SALVATION. \n\n\n\nSCRIPTURE TEXT-BOOK, \n\n\n\nFOR INQUIRERS, BELIEVERS, AND CHRISTIAN \nWORKERS. \n\n\n\nCOMPILED BY \n\n1/ \n\nC. M. WHITTELSEY and E. P. GARDNER \n..i \n\n\n\nAmerican Tract Society, \n\n150 NASSAU STREET. NEW YORK. \n\n■ \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\n^f)\\ \n\n\n\n\n\n\n^J(o \n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1878, \nBY AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nt \n\n\n\n/ONGRI: \n\n\n\nWASHINGTON \n\n\n\n$ \n\n\n\n€ \n\nu \n\n\n\nPREFACE \n\n■— * — \n\n\n\nThe object of this compilation of Scripture is \nto refer all who read it to the statements of God's \nWord which are suited to convict a sinner of \nhis sin and lead him to Christ. \n\nMany an inquirer, convinced of his need and \nattracted to the Saviour, would fain search the \nScriptures to know the certainty of those things \nwherein he has been instructed. \n\nEvery believer, in order to be so established \nin the doctrine of Christ as to walk with him in \nunhindered communion, and in order to be so \nfully assured of salvation that, at rest from him- \nself, he may be devoted to the service of the \nLord, must carefully and studiously become ac- \nquainted with the Word of God about himself \nand about the work of Christ. \n\nAnd if the Christian pastor and preacher, in \norder to be thoroughly equipped for his work, \nneeds years of patient and laborious study in the \ndoctrine of the Word of God, surely every Chris- \n\n\n\n4 PREFACE. \n\ntian who would be successful in the witnessing \nand work of the gospel committed to his hands,* \nin his measure as truly needs to be thoroughly \nfurnished by accurate knowledge of the teaching \nof Christ. For who can weigh the guilt of care- \nless or superficial instruction when the question \npertains to the salvation of a soul ? \n\nHe, then, who finds himself in any one of the \nabove classes, is earnestly asked not to content \nhimself with reading what we have written as if \nit were a message by itself. We urge a thought- \nful and prayerful study of the Bible, to which \nthis book is only a partial table of contents. \nAnd since this is the character of our work, it \ncan of course be of full value only to those who \nwill heed the interruption made by the referen- \nces, and search out the passages themselves in \nthe Word of God, noting also the context. \n\nCalling believers, as we do, to this doctrinal \nstudy of the Scriptures, a word of caution may \n\n* A companion pamphlet, entitled \"Gospel Work, or \nGod's Words about Working,\" directs one to the passages of \nScripture which call the believer to be a gospel worker, de- \nscribe the qualifications he needs, and his sources of power, \nand give the incentives by which he should be urged and the \nopportunities he should improve. \n\n\n\nPREFACE. S \n\nnot be out of place. To study only by themes, \nfollowing out separate doctrines, is not sufficient. \nGod's Word is a living whole, moulded and \nordered by the Spirit of God, and single portions \nof it can be rightly understood only in the con- \nnections in which the Spirit has set them forth. \nThe Bible is given us in order that we may be- \ncome acquainted with Christ himself, with God \nin Christ. True reverence, while seeking to \nrightly divide the word, will never permit one to \ndissect and mutilate that which is so intimately \nassociated with His person, nor to press into the \nservice of a particular truth that which the Spirit \nof God has written with a different intent. Any \nstudy of doctrine which does not keep us patient- \nly waiting upon the Holy Spirit, and continually \nlooking at and unto Christ, will be barren of \nfruit, if not positively injurious. \n\nThe study here proposed is therefore not to \nsupplant but to accompany that reading of Scrip- \nture in course, and that study of chapters and \nbooks in the Bible, which will enable us to right- \nly understand selected verses in their relation to \nthe whole Word and its central object, and in \ntheir bearing upon one or another aspect of truth. \n\n\n\n6 PREFACE, \n\nHow great our undertaking was we had no \nconception when we began. Only those who \nhave attempted such work can know the prayer- \nful labor expended in seeking, both to reach up \nin our statements to something of the fulness of \nScripture, and at the same time to abide accu- \nrately within the statements of the inspired \nwords, to the exclusion of mere inferences, in \npresenting the truth as it is in Jesus. \n\nMay He who has greatly blessed our own \nsouls in all our study, and given us by His Spirit \nwhatever of success we may have attained, par- \ndon also whatever He may see amiss. \n\nThe Lord guard, by the same Holy Spirit, all \nwho search the Scriptures by means of these \nreferences, as no man can, from every error of \nmind and heart, guiding them into his own truth. \n\nAnd may he greatly bless and use this service, \ndone as unto him, to the salvation of souls, the \ncomfort and furnishing of his people, and the \nglory of his own name. \n\nCHAS. M. WHITTELSEY, Spencerport, N. Y. \nE.. P. GARDNER, Portland, Me. \n\n\n\nSYNOPSIS. \n\n\n\nGOD page 9 \n\nMAN-- ii \n\n1. What he was in the mind of God n \n\n2. What he is in fact 14 \n\n(1.) What he has shown himself in History 15 \n\n(A.) Before the Deluge - - 15 \n\n(B.) From the Deluge till Abraham 16 \n\n(C.) Till the close of Jewish History 17 \n\n(D.) In Profane History - - 19 \n\n(E.) Since the Day of Pentecost 19 \n\n(2.) God's Testimony to what is in Man 20 \n\n(3.) The Case summed up 24 \n\n3. What he deserves -- 26 \n\nSALVATION 30 \n\n1. Salvation from God So \n\n2. Salvation through Christ. His Person 32 \n\n(1.) Christ is God 32 \n\n(2.) Christ is Man 2Z \n\n\n\n8 SYNOPSIS. \n\n3. The Work of Christ 27 \n\n(1.) As Saviour of the World -- 38 \n\n(2.) As unto the Believer — \n\n(A.) Redemption 41 \n\n(B.) Forgiveness 42 \n\n(C.) Righteousness 44 \n\n4. Salvation by Grace - 47 \n\n5. Salvation through Repentance 50 \n\n6. Salvation through Faith 53 \n\n(1.) Repentance and Faith — 53 \n\n(2.) Faith in General — Saving Faith * 54 \n\n(3.) The Testimony to be Believed - 56 \n\n(4.) The Decisive Question — 57 \n\n(5.) What Unbelief Involves 58 \n\n7. The Work of the Holy Spirit in Regeneration 60 \n\n8. How one may Know he is Saved 64 \n\n(1.) By the Fruits of the Spirit 65 \n\n(2.) From the Testimony of God 66 \n\n9. The State and Prospects of Believers --— 69 \n\n(1.) What Believers Are 69 \n\n(2.) What Believers Have 72 \n\n(3.) The Believer's Life 74 \n\n(4.) The Believer's Hope 77 \n\n\n\nGOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n\n\nGOD, \n\n\n\nWe learn from the Scriptures that God is the \ninfinite, Rom. 11:33-36, and unchangeable \nOne, Jas. 1 : 17 who inhabiteth eternity, Isa. \n\nHe created all things, Rev. 4:11, and up- \nholds them by the word of his power, Heb. 1 13. \n\nHe rules the universe, Psa. 103:19, and is \neverywhere present, Psa. 139:11 ; Jer. 23 124. \n\nAll things past, present, Heb. 4:13, and to \ncome, Isa. 46 :g f 10, are open to his gaze. \n\nHe is a God of truth, Deut. 32:4, purity, \nHab. 1:13, justice, Psa. 89:14, and holiness, \n1 Pet. 1 : 16; Rev. 4:8. \n\nHe is bountiful toward all his creatures, Psa. \n104:10-24, and kind even to the unthankful \nand the evil, Luke 6 :35. \n\n2 \n\n\n\nio GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nHis compassions fail not, Lam. $\\22> 23. \n\nHe is long-suffering, 2 Pet. 3 :g f and abundant \nin goodness, Ex. 34:6, giving his Son to be a \nsacrifice for sinners, Rom. 5 : 8. \n\nHe feels every sorrow, Isa. 63:9, knows \nevery want, Luke 12:29, 30, and hears every \nprayer, Luke 1 1 : 9-13, of those who look to him. \nHe is their guide, Psa. 32 : 8, support, Psa. \n55 : 22, and strength, Isa. 40 : 28-731. \n\nHe pities like a father, Psa. 103 : 13, and com- \nforts like a mother, Isa. 66: 13, but with a deeper \nthan a father's and mothers tenderness, Matt. \n7: 11.; Isa. 49:15. \n\nHis love passes knowledge, Eph. 3:17-19; \nfor love is the very essence of his being, 1 John \n4:8, 16. \n\nWith such a character he is indeed the blessed \nGod, 1 Tim. 1 :n, and the God of peace, Phil. \n\n4:7,9- \n\nTo do his will is a privilege, Pro v. 3:17. \n\nTo wander from him is misery, Isa. 48 : 22. \n\nTo be in his presence is fulness of joy, Psa. \n\n16:10. \n\n\n\nMAN: AS IN GOD'S MIND. n \n\n\n\nMAN. \n\ni. WHAT HE WAS IN THE MIND OF GOD. \n\nSuch a God as the Scriptures reveal could \nnot be satisfied with a moral character unlike \nhis own. He testified this when he created \nman in his own image, Gen. I 127. And the \nBible in its specific requirements of man knows \nno other standard. \n\n(1.) There are the \"common virtues\" that \nhave the general consent of man's moral sense. \nGod asks man to abstain from murder, adultery, \ntheft and false-witness, Matt. 19:16-19; to be \nupright, Prov. n : 20, honest, Deut. 25 : 15 ; \nRom. 13:7, 8, truthful, Zech. 8 : 16, and tem- \nperate, 1 Cor. 9:25; to be filial, Ex. 20:12, \ncourteous, 1 Pet. 3:8, and gentle, Jas. 3:17; \nand withal to deliver the oppressed, relieve those \nin want, Isa. 58:6, 7, and comfort the afflicted, \nJas. 1 :27. \n\n(2.) But though a man say he has kept all \nthese from his youth up, Matt. 19:20, there is \n\n\n\n12 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nmuch yet lacking. God forbids envy, Jas. 3 : 16, \npride, Prov. 16 : 5, and covetousness, Ex. 20 : 17 ; \nand requires lowliness, Phil. 2 : 3, patience, \n1 Tim. 6: n f and that a man be blameless in \nspeech, Jas. 3 : 2. Christ interpreted the law as \nreaching to the thoughts and intents of the \nheart. Anger and impure desire rank as crim- \ninal offences, Matt. 5 : 22, 28. A man must \nbe meek, Matt. 5 : 5, and forgiving, Matt. \n6 : 12, 14, 15 ; he must do to others as he ought \nto wish that they should do to him, Matt. 7:12; \ngraciously yield his rights, Matt. 5 : 38-42 ; and \nlove all men as himself, Matt. 22:39, even \nwhen they despise and hate him, Matt. 5 : 44. \n\n(3.) High as this divine standard necessarily \nis already, the first and great commandment yet \nremains : \" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God \nwith all thy heart and with all thy soul and with \nall thy mind,\" Matt. 22 : 36, 37. This is more \nthan to be moral or religious or orthodox, Matt. \n5 : 20. God asks us at the very outset to become \nas little children, Matt. 11:25; Luke 18:17, \nand to understand and know him, Jer. 9 : 23, 24 ; \nat the same time that we are to worship him \n\n\n\nMAN: AS IN GOD'S MIND. i \n\n\n\no \n\n\n\nonly, Matt. 4: 10, and do his will as it is done \nin heaven, Matt. 6: 10. \n\nHe would have every part of our life devoted \nto himself, 1 Cor. 10:31 ; so that, without anxi- \nety for the future, Matt. 6 : 25-32, his kingdom \nand righteousness shall always be first in our \nthoughts, Matt. 6:33, 34. \n\nEvery man is called, further, to live upon \nGod's words, Matt. 4 : 4, and teach them to \nothers, Deut. 6:6-9 5 being led of the Spirit of \nGod, John 16:13; Rom. 8:14; Ex. 13:21, as \na stranger and pilgrim on the earth, Heb. \n11 : 13-16, with his heart set on things in heav- \nen, Matt. 6 : 19-21 ; Col. 3 : 2. \n\nBlameless in every point, Jas. 2:10, in all \nthings like Jesus Christ, 1 Pet. 2:21-23; the \nstandard is summed up in this : to be holy as \nGod is holy, 1 Pet. 1:16. \n\nWith such a blessed character, itself a foun- \ntain of good, man must have possessed uninter- \nrupted communion with God, peace like a river \nand joy unspeakable ; while the history of earth \nwould have been a page from that of heaven. \n\n\n\ni4 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n\n\nMAN. \n\n\n\n2. WHAT HE IS. \n\nWhen God created man in His own image, \nwith free-will, and entirely innocent, the door to \nthis blessed character was open to him. He \nhad but to obey and thus recognize his true re- \nlation to God. He was also warned that dis- \nobedience would involve death, Gen. 2:16, 17. \nBut he turned his back upon God and the char- \nacter designed for him, by refusing to render \nobedience and choosing the path of sin, Gen. \n3 :6, 7. His free will set aside God's will and \nbecame self-will. So human nature and free \nwill, when tested, proved to be a failure. Proba- \ntion came in fact to an end ; and man, brought \ninto judgment before God, was sentenced, Gen. \n3 : 16-19. From this point, probation as to \ncharacter is simply proving man to himself. \nGod accordingly began a twofold teaching : one \nof history, in which man would learn by experi- \nence what he had become, and the other of \ndivine testimony. \n\n\n\nMAN: IN HIS TOR Y. 1 5 \n\n(1.) WHAT MAX HAS SHOWED HIMSELF TO BE \nIN HISTORY. \n\nAs we read the inspired history of man we \nfind a series of dispensations, in each of which \nhe is placed in different circumstances and suc- \ncessively under new motives and influences, \nsuited to turn him from sin to God. We find \nalso that each dispensation ends in failure and \njudgment. So that when we ask the results of \nman's first disobedience, the historical answer is \nthat human nature is not only marred but ruin- \ned ; that man is not only erring but lost; that \nthe result is just what God said it would be, a \ncondition of complete alienation from Him, a \ndeath in trespasses and sins. Let us follow this \nhistory in detail. \n\n(A) When man had failed in innocency and \nhad been judged before God, he entered on a \nnew probation that he might know himself. No \nnew commandment took the place of the one \nthat had been broken, but the promise of a Re- \ndeemer was given him, Gen. 3:15; and divine \ninstruction as to the way in which one may \nstand before God forgiven and accepted, Gen. \n\n\n\n16 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n3:7, 21 ; 4:4; Heb. 11:4; Zech. 3:3-5 ; Rev. \n7 : 14.* But the promise and the instruction \nwere in vain. Mankind went out from the pres- \nence of the Lord and began a Cain-like progress, \nGen. 4: 16-22, which is not yet at an end; for \nmankind is still seeking to escape and forget the \ncurse by monuments to his own name, by the \nacquisition of wealth, and by the inventions \nwhich shall render life easy and joyous \" without \nGod.\" The flood, Gen. 6 and 7, was accordingly \nsent as God's testimony that the race — human \nnature — had failed under promise and instruction, \nas completely as it did in Eden. For \" God saw \nthat every imagination of the thought of his heart \nwas only evil continually.\" Gen. 6:5, 11, 12. \n\n(B.) Now a third opportunity was given to man. \nTo the miraculously saved family of eight per- \nsons, who offered up the appointed sacrifice, God \ngave the covenant of the bow in the cloud, the \n\n* The recorded fact that Abel offered sacrifice \"by faith,\" \n(and where there is no word to believe, there is no faith, Rom. \n10 : 17,) God's dealing with Cain, and the scriptural use of \nclothing ever after, clearly indicate that when Adam was cloth- \ned with skins, God taught him the way of salvation through the \ndeath of a substitute, the bruising of the promised Redeemer. \n\n\n\nMAN: IN HISTOR Y. 1 7 \n\nsolemn lessons of the past, and an earth from \nwhose face dominant iniquity had been washed \naway in the flood. Gen. 8 : 15 to 9 : 17. But all \nwas again in vain. The city and tower of Babel \nwere an attempted brotherhood of the race, leav- \ning out God as the centre of unity, and substitu- \nting instead an ideal of humanity, in which man \nshowed his godlessness and pride ; and God de- \nclared man's failure in the judgment of the dis- \npersion, Gen. ■ 1 1 : 3-9. \n\n(C.) Next, one man of the race and his descend- \nants were chosen, that it might be seen what \na supernatural culture and special advantages \ncould effect, Geit. 12 : 1-3. Wonderful promises \nwere made and miracles wrought. But the his- \ntory of this elect race shows a long succession \nof obdurate rejections of God, Acts 7. The \nheirs of the promises made to Abraham became \nslaves and idol-worshippers in Egypt, Ezek. \n20 : 5-8. Their deliverance from bondage did \nnot keep them from murmuring in the wilder- \nness, when on their way to the country God had \nprovided, Exod. 16 and 17; and the past experi- \nence of the race did not keep them from assu- \n\n3 \n\n\n\n1 8 GOSPEL TRUTH, \n\nming their ability to do all that God could ask \nof them, Exod. 19:8. Before there had been \ntime for even the utterance of His commands, \nthey were bowing before a golden calf, Exod. 32. \nThe early promise of a Redeemer and the in- \nstruction as to forgiveness were amplified to \nthem in a tabernacle and a ritual which spoke \nof Christ in every part. The Angel of God's \npresence in the cloud of glory met every want, \nand led them to the very borders of the land of \npromise. But by reason of unbelief they did not \nenter in, Numb. 14; and for forty years they \nwere proved in the wilderness, Deut. 8 : 1-3. \nEven after they were brought into their inherit- \nance, they rebelled against God under the suc- \ncessive dispensations of Judges, Judg. 2 : 11-13, \n19, of Kings, 2 Kings 17: 7-23 ; 2 Chron. 36: 15, \n16, and of Prophets, Jer. 7 : 25-28. Every de- \nliverance was followed by some new departure \nfrom God. Under the Kingdom they became \ndivided against themselves. Nowhere in all lit- \nerature are to be found such warnings, instruc- \ntions, and expostulations as may be read in the \npages of the prophets. If intense appeals could \n\n\n\nMAN: IN HISTOR Y. 19 \n\nmove man to return to God, Israel must have \nbeen brought into fellowship with Him. Finally \nGod sent his own Son, divinely attested, full of \ngrace and truth, in whom dwelt the fulness of \nthe Godhead bodily. He was God manifest in \nthe flesh to the chosen people. But even he \nwas hated, rejected, and slain,. Mark 12:1-8; \nJohn 15 : 22-25. Thus the nation upon whom \nGod had centred all his testimonies, revelations, \nand mighty deliverances, Isa. 1 : 1-6, constitu- \nting a miraculous culture the highest conceiva- \nble, proved the impossibility of educating human \nnature back to God. \n\n(D.) The profane history of other nations, and \nthe divine record of the result of leaving man to \nhimself, Rom. 1, tell the same story. Human \nwisdom reached its highest stage in Greek cul- \nture, and organized power in the Roman Empire, \nbut they both rejected Christ, Acts 4:26, 27; \n1 Cor. 1 : 23. \n\n(E.) Since the day of Pentecost man has had \nthe testimony of the Spirit. It is His mission to \nconvince the world of sin, of righteousness, and \nof judgment, and dwelling in the believer, to com- \n\n\n\n2o GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nfort, teach, and guide, showing him the things \nof Christ both present and to come, John 14: 16, \n17; 16:7-14. Through Him is given to us a \nrevelation more complete, Eph. 3 -.5, and great- \ner privileges, Gal. 4 : 1-7, than were possible \nbefore. But prophecy warns us that the result \nwill show the human heart still unchanged, and \nthat this age will end, as each preceding age \nhas ended, in the rejection of God and consequent \njudgment, Luke 17:26-30; 18:8; 21:34-36; \n2 Thess. 2 : 3-12 ; 2 Tim, 3:152 Pet. 3 : 3, 4. \n\nThe testimony of man about himself is thus \nhistorically unequivocal. Human nature, under \nthe strongest and most varied incentives, and \nunder a divine and most marvellous culture, has \nshown no will to take a single step toward fel- \nlowship with God ; but has, under every test, \nturned away from God and toward evil. \n\n(2.) god's testimony to what is in man. \n\nThe divine testimony has, from the first, ac- \ncompanied man's manifestation of his own char- \nacter in history. As we listen, let us keep in \nmind the fact that God is love. \n\n\n\nMAN: IN GOD'S TESTIMONY. 21 \n\nHe is too truthful to deceive us, too loving to \nbe harsh with us. \n\nIf the testimony is unpalatable, it is only be- \ncause the facts are dreadful. \n\nIf the unwelcome facts are pressed upon our \nattention, it is only that we may find the deliv- \nerance in God which cannot be found in our- \nselves. \n\n(A.) Upon the plane of man's relations to his \nfellow-men, the testimony is that \"from within \nout of the heart of men proceed evil thoughts, \nadulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covet- \nousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an \nevil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness : all these \nevil things come from within and defile the \nman/'* Mark 7:21-23 cf. Rom. 3:12-17; Jas. \n3:6, 8, 9. In addition to this description of \n\" humanity,\" we find among the works of the \nflesh, \" uncleanness, idolatry, witchcraft, vari- \nance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, here- \nsies, drunkenness, revellings, and such like.\" \nGal. 5 : 19-21 ; Col. 3 : 5, 6. It is also written \n\n* The Greek word translated \"the man,\" as here used, \nmight aptly be rendered \" humanity,\" or \" mankind.\" \n\n\n\n22 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nas characteristic of men that they are disobedi- \nent, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, \nliving in malice and envy, hateful and hating one \nanother, Tit. 3 : 3, and filling the world with cru- \nelty, misery, and war, Psa. 74: 20; Rom. 3 : 16 ; \nJas. 4:2; and that they not only commit sin \nthemselves, but take pleasure in others who sin, \nRom. 1 : 32. In the full development of our \nhuman nature, to be seen in the last days, men \nare declared to be \" lovers of their own selves, \nboasters, unthankful, unholy, without natural \naffection, truce-breakers, false accusers, inconti- \nnent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, trai- \ntors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure more \nthan lovers of God, having the form of godliness \nbut denying the power thereof,\" 2 Tim. 3 : 1-5. \n(B.) As regards their conduct towards God, \ntheir Maker and rightful Ruler, men are de- \nscribed as careless, Deut. 32:18; Psa. 10:4, \nwithout reverence or love, Rom. 3:18; Prov. \n1 : 29 ; John 5 : 42 ; Rom. 3:11, separated from \nthe life of God, Eph. 4:18, 19, and practically \ninfidels, Psa. 10:11, 13; Job 21:15, and athe- \nists, Psa. 14 : 1. \n\n\n\nMAN: IN GOD'S TESTIMONY. 23 \n\nNor is this. a mere passive state of estrange- \nment ; men are actively disobedient and rebel- \nlious, Isa. 1:2; Col. 3:6; rejecting his appeals, \nProv. 1 : 24, 25, contemning his goodness, Rom. \n2 : 1-4, and rising to the height of positive en- \nmity toward him, Col. 1:21; Jas. 4 : 4. \n\n(C.) We are further taught that sin has defiled \nthe very fountain of action, so that man's nature \nis represented as evil. He is polluted from birth, \nPsa. 58 : 3 ; 53 : 3 ; 51 : 5, carnal in his desires, \nJohn 3:3-6, and hating the light, John 3:19, \n20. He is set in unchangeable opposition to the \nwill of God, Rom. 8 : 7. He is the bond-slave \nof sin, John 8 : 34 ; Rom. 6:16; 7 ; 14, deliver- \ning himself over into the control of Satan, Eph. \n2:2; 1 John 3 :8-io; 5 : 19. \n\n(D) Hence in his full-length portrait of the \ninner and outer man, God declares that the ruin \nis not partial, but affecting all departments of \nhis being, Isa. 1 14-6. \n\nHis whole head is sick, so that his mind is \nblinded, 2 Cor. 4 : 4, his spiritual perception is \nlost, 1 Cor. 2 : 14, his understanding is dark- \nened, Eph. 4: 18, his imagination is evil, Gen. \n\n\n\n24 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n6:5; Rom, 1:21, and his conscience defiled, \nTit. 1 : 15. \n\nHis will is obdurate, Eccles. 8:11; John 5 : 40, \nand his heart is hard as a stone, Ezek. 11 : 19 ; \nZech. 7:12, and incurably wicked, Jer. 17:9. \n\nHis ears are dull and his eyes closed, Matt. \nI3 :I 3 -I S- His mouth is given to evil, Psa. \n50 : 19 ; 52 : 2, and his tongue to deceit, so that \nhis throat is like an open sepulchre, Rom. 3:13; \nJas. 3:8. His hands are unclean, Isa. 59:3; \nJas. 4:8, and his feet run to evil, Prov. 1 : 16; \nIsa. 53 : 6. \n\n(E.) Moreover, when Christ is presented to \nmen, their will is not to yield to his authority, \nLuke 19:14; John 1:11, not to believe his \npromises, John 16:9, and even to hate him, \nJohn 15:24, 25. \n\n(3.) THE CASE SUMMED UP. \n\nWhether man writes his character in history \nor God reads it from his heart, the result is the \nsame. Since its first choice of sin, human na- \nture in God's sight has nothing good in it, Rom. \n\n7:18. \n\n\n\nMAN: THE CASE SUMMED UP. 25 \n\nMen are lost, Luke 19 : 10. \n\nInstead of being on probation, they are al- \nready condemned, John 3:18. \n\nTheir existence is a death whose activity is \nbefore God only corruption in trespasses and \nsins, Eph. 2:1; Rom. 7 : 24. \n\nThere is need to begin wholly afresh, with \nnew birth, John 3 : 3, and a new life, John 6:53. \n\nNor can any one who remains in his sins ac- \ncuse God or excuse himself, John 15 :22 ; Rom. \n1 : 20, because he abides in it of his own will, \nJohn 5 : 40, and against every motive which love \ncould devise, Isa. 5 14. \n\nFinally, this testimony of God is not excep- \ntional, applying only to some individuals or sec- \ntions of the race; it is a description of all men \nas they are in germ, if not in full development, \nPsa. 143 : 2 ; Prov. 27 : 19 ; Rom. 2 : 1 ; 3 : 19, 22, \n23 ; John 2 : 25, as followed by John 3. \n\n\n\nGOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n\n\nMAN. \n\n3. WHAT HE DESERVES. \n\nGod's estimate of sin and its sinfulness must \nbe intense. This is evident from his character, \nfrom what he requires in man, and from his tes- \ntimony as to the condition into which man has \nbrought himself. \n\n(1.) His feeling, accordingly, finds expression \nin the strongest terms of abhorrence, Deut. \n32 : 19. Sin is the abominable thing which he \nhates, Jer. 44:4; Fro v. 15:9. It is exceeding \nsinful, Rom. 7:13. His wrath abides on it, Psa. \n7: 11 ; John 3:36. \n\n(2.) But this feeling in no wise leads him to be \nunduly severe. He declares the penalty to be \ndictated by justice, Rom. 2:2, 5 ; Job 34 : 23. \nHe sees the enormity of sin, not merely in the \nruin it has wrought, but in its denial of his own \nGodhead, Rom. 1:21, 23, 25 ; Psa. 50 : 21 ; Mai. \n\n\n\nMAN: WHAT HE DESERVES. 27 \n\n3:8; Luke 20 : 14, its wilful lawlessness, 1 John \n3 : 4, and its self-deification, Gen. 3:552 Thes. \n\n2 : 3, 4- \n\nEven if one does not feel the sinfulness of sin, \nnor see that it deserves what the Bible teaches, \nhow can he assume to question the revelation? \nRom. 9 : 20. Plainly we are ignorant, Job 8 : 9, \nour moral perceptions are dulled, Eph. 4 : 18, 19, \nand the desire to acquit ourselves unfits us to \njudge, Job 40 : 8. While God's greatness, Isa. \n40 : 12-18, holiness, Isa. 6 : 3, righteousness, Psa. \n145 : 17, and goodness, Rom. 11 133-36, espe- \ncially as revealed in Jesus Christ, his Son, John \n1 : 17, 18, should lead us to trust him implicitly, \nGen. 18 : 25 ; Rom. 3 : 4, giving all things 4nto \nhis hands, John 3:35; 5 : 27, \n\nGod's righteousness was not tarnished when \nhis love made a way of salvation, Rom. 3 : 26. \nGod's love will not be obscured when his right- \neousness is executed, Psa. 51:4. \n\nNor can we forget that it is the sinner who \nbrings the penalty upon his own head, Prov. \n8 : 36, by rejecting God's counsels and warn- \nings, Isa. 1:18; Prov, 1 : 24, 25, by contempt of \n\n\n\n2 8 GOSPEL TRUTH \n\nhis forbearance, Rom. 2 14, and by despising his \ngrace, Heb. 2:3; 10 : 29 ; 12 : 18-29. \n\n(3.) God cannot, therefore, in any wise over- \nlook the guilt of sin, Hab. 1 : 13. His own \ncharacter compels him to his strange work of \njudgment, Isa. 28:21. And the certainty of \npunishment is specially testified in the passages \nwhich declare God's forbearance and his wish \nthat none should perish, but that all should come \nto repentance, Rom. 2 : 2-1 1 ; 2 Pet. 3 : 3-10. \n\nNo appeal, -therefore, to some vague mercy of \nGod will avail, Exod. 34 : 6, 7 ; Heb. 10 : 28, 29. \nSincerity cannot be accepted as a plea, Prov. \n16 : 25. And no excuse can hide one from his \nsin, Luke 12 : 2-5. \n\n(4.) But next to the cross of Christ, only the \nday of wrath and revelation of the righteous \njudgment of God can give us his true estimate \nof sin. In that day, Acts 17:31, Christ, to \nwhom all judgment is committed, John 5:22, \nwill raise the dead, John 5 : 28, 29, and cause \nthem to stand before his throne, Rev. 20 : 5, 6, \n11-15. \n\nWhile distinctions will be recognized, because \n\n\n\nMAN: WHAT HE DESERVES. 29 \n\nmen will be judged according to their deeds, \nRom. 2 : 6, according to their privileges, Rom. \n2:12, and according to their light, Luke 12 : 47, \n48, yet all unbelievers will be punished with \ndeath, Rom. 6 123. \n\nThis death God defines to be separation from \nthe righteous, Luke 13:24-28, from Christ, \n2 Thess. 1:9; John 7 : 34, and from heaven, \nRev. 21 : 27. It is described as outer darkness, \nMatt. 8:12, the lake of fire, Rev. 20 : 15, a place \nof torment, Matt. 24 : 5 1 ; Luke x6 : 23, 28 ; Rom. \n2 : 9, which was prepared for the devil and his \nangels, Matt. 25 141, 46; Rev. 20:10. More- \nover, it is written of those condemned at this \nlast judgment, that their character will be final, \nRev. 22 : 11, and their destiny everlasting mis- \nery, Mark 9 : 43, 44 ; Luke 16 : 26 ; Rev. 14:11. \n\n\n\n30 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n\n\nSALVATION. \n\nI. SALVATION FROM GOD. \n\nFrom the dark sad record of man and his de- \nsert, we turn again to the character of God. \nWith no resource in himself, there is salvation \nfor the sinner in the very Being against whom \nhe has rebelled. God has throughout been tes- \ntifying that He was not willing that any should \nperish, Ezek. 33:11; 2 Pet. 3:9; 1 Tim. 2 : 4. \n\nHe planned for salvation even before man \nsinned, Eph. 1 .*4, 5 ; and afterward arranged all \nhistory with a view to redemption, Acts 17 : 26, \n27 ; Gal. 4:4. Though man has embraced no \nopportunity to feel after God, yet God has been \nseeking after man ever since the garden, Gen. \n3 : 8, 9; Luke 19 : 10. \n\nMan made no discovery of God, but God con- \ntinually, by many messengers, and at last by his \nSon, sent news of Himself, John 1:18; Heb. \n1 : i-3. \n\n\n\nSAL VAT10N FROM GOD. 3 1 \n\nHe revealed his love, 1 John 4:9, and his \nrighteousness, Rom. 3:21-26, in divine harmo- \nny, Psa. 85 : 10, by the gift of his Son thjjt men \nmight not perish, John 3 : 16. He established \nthe law, Rom. 3:31, and condemned sin, Rom. \n8 : 3, and in the very act brought salvation and \neternal life, John 5 : 24, and the privilege of sons \nof God, Rom. 8 : 14-17, within reach of the low- \nest and worst of sinners, Matt. 9:9-13; Luke \n7 : 36-50. \n\nNor did he stop with the finished work upon \nthe cross, but has ever since been himself urging \nmen to accept salvation, 2 Cor. 5 : 18 to 6: 2, \n\nFor this the Holy Spirit has come, and is in \nthe world, John 16: 7-15. \n\nFor this the church is left on earth, John \n17: 18; Acts 1 :8. \n\nFor this the Bible throbs with invitation and \nentreaty, Isa. 55:1-3; Matt. 11:28, 29; Rev. \n22:17. \n\nAll heaven is interested in the work, Luke \n2:9-15; Eph. 3:10; 1 Pet. 1:12, while God \nhimself rejoices over one sinner that repenteth, \nLuke 15. \n\n\n\n32 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nSALVATION. \n\n2. SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. \n\nBut the marvel grows unspeakably great by \nthe glad tidings of salvation, in that Son who \nis \"the mighty God,\" Isa. 9:6. The love God \nhad to us could not be valued by silver nor \ngold, nor by any creature : nor could the salva- \ntion he had devised for us be wrought by an- \nother than himself. Only the Son, who came \nfrom the bosom of the Father, could bring us \ninto sonship. To truly discern his Person is \nitself salvation in all its completeness, John \n1 : 1 1, 12; 3:14-16; 17:3; 20:31; Romans \n10:8-10; 1 Cor. 12:3; 2 Cor. 3:18; 1 John \n\n3:i-3; 5:l \n\n(i.) CHRIST IS GOD \n\nIt is not therefore a dead dogma but a living \ngospel that we read in the fact that Jesus was \nImmanuel, Matt. 1 : 23, \" God manifest in the \nflesh,\" 1 Tim. 3 : 16. With adoring faith we see \nthat Christ from eternity was and is God, John \n1:1, 2, the only begotten and coequal Son of \nthe Father, John 1:14; 5:23; 10:30; Phil. \n\n\n\nSALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. 33 \n\n2 : 6, whose goings forth were from everlasting, \nMicah 5 : 2, and whose throne is for ever and \never, Heb. i :8-i2. \n\nChrist is the Almighty, Rev. 1 : 5-8, Maker of \nheaven and earth, the Lord of all, who upholds \nall things, and for whom all things exist, John \n1:3-5; Acts 10:36; Col. 1:16, 17; Heb. \n\n1 : 1-3. \n\nHe is the unchangeable One, Heb. 13:8, who \nknoweth all things, John 21:17. \n\nHe is present with every \" two or three \" gath- \nered in his name, Matt. 18:20, and with every \nservant engaged upon his business, Matt. 28 :20. \n\n(2.) CHRIST IS MAN. \n\nThis glorious Son of God,* who is God over \nall blessed for ever, Rom. 9 : 5, for redemption's \nsake, became man, John 1 : 14; Luke 1 : 31-35 ; \n2: 11 ; Heb. 2 : 14-17. \n\n* The forms of expression, ''children of,\" or \"son of,\" in \nActs 4:36, Numb. 23:19, 2 Thess. 2:3, Eph. 2 : 2, 1 Thess. \n5 : 5, etc., are used to describe what one is essentially. \n\nHence the scriptural titles, the \"Son of God,\" the \"Son of \nman,\" instead of giving reason to question, actually assert, \nChrist's essential Deity and essential humanity. \n\n5 \n\n\n\n34 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nHe humbled himself to all the limitations of \na human life, Luke 2:51; Mark 6:3; Luke \n9:58. \n\nHe took on him a human body, Heb. 10:5, \nand was weary, John 4:6, and hungry, Matt. \n21: 18. \n\nHis growth in stature was accompanied by a \ngrowth in wisdom and favor with God, that \nshowed a human development of his mind and \ncharacter, Luke 2 : 46, 52. \n\nPossessing a human soul, Mark 14 : 34, he had \npersonal friendships, John 11 : 5 ; 13:23; and \nhe, who groaned in spirit and wept with others, \nJohn 11 133, 35, in his own great sorrow appeal- \ned to men for sympathy, Matt. 26 : 38-45. His \nagony of soul, though it could not cause him to \nfalter in subjection to God, yet prostrated him \nas a man, Luke 22 141-45. \n\nThus assuming a complete human nature in \norder to be both high-priest and sin-offering, \nHeb. 2: 17, he was in his person entirely with- \nout sin — a sinless man, Luke 1 : 35 ; John 8 146 ; \n14:30; 2 Cor. 5 :2i ; Heb. 4:15; 1 Pet. 2: 22; \nI John 3:5. \n\n\n\nSAL VATION THROUGH CHRIST. 35 \n\nHe indeed returned to the glory he had with \nthe Father before the world was, John 17:5, \nyet after he was raised from the dead, Luke \n24 : 39-43 ; John 20 : 27, and when he ascended \non high, Acts 1:11, he was a man still, the \nsame Jesus. \n\nHaving passed through the heavens as our \nforerunner, Heb. 6 : 20, he is now the sympathi- \nzing Man, Heb. 4:14-16, at the right hand of \nGod as an intercessor, Heb. 9:24; 10:12, on \nbehalf of those whom he is not ashamed to call \nhis brethren, Heb. 2 : 11, 12. \n\nFinally, when about to give his last message \nto the churches, he even then revealed himself, \nas \"for evermore \" alive from the dead, Rev. \n1 : 13-18; while he is yet to be manifested be- \nfore all the ransomed church of God, even in \nthe midst of the throne, still bearing the marks \nof his crucifixion, a Lamb \"as it had been slain,\" \nRev. 5:6. \n\nThus the salvation which is from God is given \nto men in a Saviour who is both God and man \nin one person for ever. In his own person he \nis able to stand for God among men and for \n\n\n\n36 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nmen before God, divinely constituted to be a \nMediator, i Tim. 2:5; Heb. 12:24, cf. Gal. \n3:20. \n\nIn Him the invisible God became visible and \ntangible, 1 John 1 : 1-3 ; Matt. 11 127, 28; and \nthe sinner is not only drawn by the cords of a \nman, but also in seeing and knowing Him, sees \nand knows the Father also, John 14:7-9; for \nin Him dwelleth the fulness of the Godhead \nbodily, Col. 2 : 9. \n\nBut in him, on the other hand, God finds \nthe man in whom he can delight, Matt. 3 : 1 5— \n17; Acts 2:22, and worthy to be exalted above \nevery name, Phil. 2:9; and in him, whosoever \nwill may find a second Adam, or head of the \nrace, through whom God can bestow righteous- \nness and life and incorruption in abounding \ngrace, even as through the first Adam we have \nall been visited with sin and death, Rom. \n5 : 12-20; 1 Cor. 15 :22, 45. While the surpass- \ning love and the treasures of wisdom and knowl- \nedge which are wrapped in the fathomless marvel \nof his person, will take the ages of eternity for \ntheir unfolding, Eph. 3:19;. Col. 2:3; Eph. 2 : 7. \n\n\n\nTHE WORK OF CHRIST. 37 \n\nSALVATION. \n3. THE WORK OF CHRIST. \n\nBut the climax of the marvel of Christ's in- \ncarnation and spotless life was his death. The \nSon of God became man in order to offer him- \nself a sacrifice for sin, John 1 : 1-29. He, who \nknew no sin, voluntarily humbled himself, John \n10:17, 18, to take the place of a sinner before \nGod's broken law, Phil. 2 : 5-8 ; Gal. 4:4; Mark \n15 :28. The Prince of glory died in agony and \nshame upon the cross, Luke 23 146; Heb. 12 : 2. \nBut beyond his shameful rejection by men, \nMatt. 27 : 22-44, an d beyond all the torture of \nhis crucifixion, John 19 : 28, there was in his \ndeath a fathomless depth of anguish, Matt. \n27:45, 46, to be accounted for only by the \njudicial act of a righteous God upon a sin- \nbearer, Isaiah 53:6; Zech. 13 : 7. It is a re- \nvealed fact that the spotless One was made sin, \n2 Cor. 5:21; that the Beloved of God was made \na curse, Gal. 3:13. \n\nBut we need to distinguish (2 Tim. 2:15) be- \ntween the relation of the death of Christ to the \n\n\n\n38 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nrace, as offering to the world the gift of salva- \ntion, and the value of that death to believers, \nas bestowing redemption, forgiveness and right- \neousness. \n\n(i.) AS SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD. \n\nThe death of Christ has a world-wide relation, \nJohn 3 : 14-2 1 ; 4 : 42 ; 6 : 5 1 ; Titus 2:11. It \nis written, \" Behold the Lamb of God which ta- \nketh away the sin of the world/' John 1 129. As \nsuch he not only glorified God by his spotless \nand unblemished manhood, but also by his death, \nby which he magnified the law, Isa. 42 : 21, so \nthat the door to God's mercy is justly thrown \nwide open. In this aspect of the atonement, to \nuse the phrases of one whose expositions of the \nWord have been greatly blessed to Christians, \nit was not a question of the persons or of the \nsins which were to be forgiven, nor of God's \ncounsels of grace, Eph. 1:4, 5, for God has a \ndistinct portion in the death of Christ as meet- \ning all his claims — the claims of his nature, his \ncharacter, and his throne — in a world that has \ndisregarded them and dishonored him. And \n\n\n\nTHE WORK OF CHRIST. 39 \n\nthus, as \"the Lord's lot,\" as \"God's Lamb,\" all \naside from the fact that men are saved by it, he \nhas glorified God before the universe by this dis- \nplay of his love and righteousness. Thus did he \nfulfil the types of the Lord's lot and the slain \nbird, Lev. 16 : 8, 9, 15 ; 14 : 4-7. \n\nHe gave up all that he had to buy the field \nwhich held the treasure, Matt. 13:44; which \n\"field is the world,\" Matt. 13:38. He was a \n\"ransom for all,\" 1 Tim. 2:4-6; \"a propitia- \ntion* not for our sins only but for the whole \nworld,\" I John 2:2. \n\nThus, whether men believe it or not, whether \nmen avail themselves of it or not, the great fact \nis heralded of God to all the world, that there is \na mercy-seat, a meeting-place for God and sin- \nful man as such, upon which and before which \nthe blood of a perfect and ample atonement has \nbeen sprinkled. \n\nThis accounts for the gospel statements that \nare without limitations, such as that the Just \n\n* Two different Greek words are translated \" propitiation.\" \nThe \"propitiation\" in Rom. 3:25 is rendered \"mercy-seat\" \nin Heb. 9:5; and upon it the \"propitiation\" or mercy offer- \ning of 1 John 2 : 2, and 4:10, has been sprinkled. \n\n\n\n4 o GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nOne suffered \" for the unjust,\" i Pet. 3:18; \nthat Christ \"died for the ungodly,\" Rom. 5:6; \nthat he came into the world \" to save sinners,\" \n1 Tim. 1:15. There is therefore nothing in God \nor in the sacrifice to hinder its universal accep- \ntation, 1 Tim. 1:15; and God's \"whosoever\" \nrings at the door of every man's conscience. \n\n(2.) AS UNTO THE BELIEVER. \n(A.) REDEMPTION. \n\nThis very gospel to the world is God's chosen \npower to bring men to himself, 1 Pet. 3:18. To \nit every man ought to give the assent of his \nwhole soul, because it is true. He who dis- \nbelieves, thereby charges God with falsehood, \n1 John 5:10; and remaining alienated from God \nabides under condemnation, John 3:18, 36. He \nwho believes is at once in Christ Jesus made \nnigh unto God by the blood of Christ, Eph. \n2:13. Having taken his place as a sinner be- \nfore the mercy-seat, in the light that shines \nthere he sees his own sin and the value of the \nsacrifice as he never could before. Personally \nconfessing that he is one of those who like \n\n\n\nTHE WORK OF CHRIST 41 \n\nsheep have gone astray, he is also constrained \nto see that he is one of those whose sins have \nby a priestly act been laid upon Christ, Isaiah \n53:6. \n\nThe second of the two parables in Matt. \n13 : 44-46, now finds its counterpart to him in \nMatt. 20 : 28 ; Eph. 5 : 25-27 ; Titus 2 : 14. In \nthese passages the purchase is not of a mere \nprivilege — that the Son of Man may seek for \ntreasure, Matt. 13 144, and the Father may seek \nfor worshippers, John 4 : 23 ; or that man as \nsuch may come to God through a mediator, \n1 Tim. 2 : 4-6 — but of the persons of believers, \n1 Cor. 6 : 20; a finished transaction, 1 Pet. 1:18, \n19; Rev. 5:9, by which they are redeemed \nfrom under the curse and slavery of sin, Gal. \n3:13; Rom. 7 : 14, 23 — 8 : 1, and have become \nhis purchased possession, Eph. 1 : 14, for his \nexclusive service, Rom. 6 : 22 ; 12 : 1 ; 1 Cor. \n10 : 31, and especial glory, Isa. 53:12; 2 Thess. \n1 : 10-12 ; Jude 24. Instructed by these Scrip-- \ntures the believer comes to know with assurance \nthat he possesses the manifold benefits of the \none death of Christ as figured in the varied \n\nG \n\n\n\n42 GOSPEL TRUTH, \n\naspects of the many offerings given to Israel. \nHe should now apply to himself the family per- \nsonal pronouns of the epistles, e. g. Rom. 4 : 25 ; \n5:1; 1 Cor. 1 : 30 ; 2 : 9-16 ; 15 : 51-54 ; 2 Cor. \n5 : 1-9, 18, 21 ; Gal. 2 120; Eph. 1 : 3-7; 2:4-10 ; \n4:30; 5:2, 8; Col. 1 : 12, 13; 2:6, 7, 10; \n3:1-5; Jas. 1:18; 1 Pet. 2 : 24 ; 1 John 1 : 7, \n9; 3 : 1-3; 4: 10, 11, 16, 17; Rev. 1:5,6. \n\n(b.) forgiveness. \n\nNothing of all that the believer possesses \nthrough the death of Christ should be more \nclearly discerned than that he now has the for- \ngiveness of sins, Eph. 4 : 32 ; Col. 3:13. \n\nAs the scapegoat typically took upon its head \n\" all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and \nall their transgressions in all their sins,\" as con- \nfessed by the high priest, so particularly also \nhas the Lord Jesus assumed upon himself all \nthe sins of these who come unto God by Him. \nAnd even as the scapegoat was \"let go\" into \nthe wilderness never to be seen again ; as it \nbore away its heavy load \"into a land not inhab- \nited\" — a land of separation, (margin,) a land \n\n\n\nTHE WORK OF CHRIST. 43 \n\ninaccessible (Septuagint) — so Christ also has \nborne away the believer's iniquities into the \nrealm of God's forgetfulness. His transgres- \nsions have been so let go and banished that in \nGod's sight he is entirely separated from all \nthat he has ever been and done, Lev. 16: 10, \n21, 22; cf. Lev. 14:6, 7. Thus wonderfully do \neven Old Testament types picture out the \nriches of the grace according to which the be- \nliever possesses the forgiveness of sins, Eph. \n1:7. \n\nAll Scripture combines to set forth in figure \nand statement its fulness and completeness. \n\" As far as the east is from the west, so far hath \nhe removed our transgressions from us,\" Psa. \n103 : 12. He has cast our sins behind his back, \nIsa. 38 : 17. He has buried them in the depths \nof the sea, Micah 7 : 19. Their record is blotted \nout, Isa. 43 : 25, and their remission is as abso- \nlute as the cancelling of a debt which has been \nsettled by another, Matt. 6:12; Acts 10:43; \n\n13:38, 39- \n\nThe scarlet, crimson stains which human \nchemistry cannot bleach, are, through grace, \n\n\n\n44 GOSPEL TRUTH, \n\nwashed white in the sight of God, Isa. I : 18; \ni John 1:7; Rev. 7 : 14. \n\nAnd since with God there is not even the \nremembrance of his sins, every believer may, \nthrough the blood of Jesus, draw near; yes, is \nbidden of God to come, in the full assurance of a \npresent possession of forgiveness, Heb. 10: 17- \n22. He has not to wait for it as a future inher- \nitance ; it is his already, (note the tenses of Eph. \n1 :7; 4 132 ; Col. 1 : 12-14; 3 : 13,) even though \nhe be a babe in Christ, 1 John 2:12. \n\n(C) RIGHTEOUSNESS. \n\nThe forgiveness of the gospel is more than \ndeliverance from the penalty of the law. It is \n\" the forgiveness of sins.\" The gospel, accord- \ningly, goes on to declare that God is righteous \nin the justification of him that believeth in \nJesus, Rom. 1 : 16, 17 ; 3 : 26. \n\nAs a sinner he is reckoned to have already so \ndied in the death of Christ for him, Rom. 6 : 3- \nn; 7 : 4, 6, margin ; Gal. 2 : 19, 20 ; Col. 3:3; \n1 Pet. 2 : 24, that in God's sight all that he was \nand had done is entirely cleared from connec- \n\n\n\nTHE WORK OF CHRIST. 45 \n\ntion with him, 2 Cor. 5 : 14-18 ; 1 Pet. 4:1, 2 ; \n1 John 3 : 5. \n\nAs redeemed unto God, the believer is now \nabsolutely His, John 17 : 2, 6, 10 ; 1 Cor. 6 : 19, \n20; Gal. 1:4; Titus 2:14; so that God can \nrighteously do with him as love may dictate, \nEph. 1 : 3-6, and in unfettered grace exalt him \ninto union with his Son, John 17 : 21-23 \\ l Cor. \n1:9, and upon him, as risen from the dead, \nlavish untold blessings, Eph. 2 : 4-10 ; 3 : 20, \n21. \n\nChrist in his death was not the \"sin-offering\" \nand the \" trespass-offering\" only; he was also \nfor the believer all the \"sweet-savor offerings,\" \nLev. 1-3 ; Eph. 5 : 2 — \" the offerings for accept- \nance\"* — so that God is justified, in view of \nthe cross, in bestowing righteousness upon him \nand in accepting him in the acceptableness of \nChrist, 1 John 4:17; Eph. 5 : 29, 30 ; 1 Cor. \n12: 12, 27; Col. 3:3, 4. \n\nAccordingly, the righteousness which the be- \n\n* The original Hebrew in Lev. 1 : 3, for \"of his own volun- \ntary will,\" should be rendered, \"for his acceptance,\" and in \nverse 4 is translated \" accepted for him.\" \n\n\n\n46 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nliever has before God* is seen to be not by \nworks of the law, but apart from law, Rom. \n3 : 19-21, 28; 4 : 3-6 ; 10 : 3-10; Gal. 2: 16, 19, \n2 1 ; Phil, 3:9)2 Tim. 1:9; Heb. 11:4; Titus \n3 : 5-7, and not even by the faith of the believer \nas itself a good work, Rom. 3 : 24, but by the \nblood of Christ, Rom. 5 :'g; Gal. 3 : 1-14, in the \nwork of redemption, Rom. 3 : 24 ; 4 : 23-25 ; 5:9, \n10, 18, 19 ; 8 : 33, 34 ; 2 Cor. 5 : 18-21. \n\nIt is therefore entirely a righteousness from \nGod, Phil. 3:9; 1 Cor. 1 : 30 ; for the unworthy, \nRom. 3 124; 4:5, 16; 5 :6-io, 15, 16, 21 ; Gal. \n2:21; Titus 3 : 3-7 ; by grace, unto all and upon \nall who believe, Rom. 1:16, 17 ; 3 : 22 ; 5:1; \n10:4, 10; Phil. 3 :g. \n\nIt is moreover justification in a person, and \nnot merely through a plan of redemption. It is \n\" in Christ \" that we become the righteousness of \nGod, 2 Cor. 5:21; 1 Cor. 1 : 30 ; 1 Cor. 6:11; \nActs 13 .'39 ;f Gal. 2: 17 ;f Jer. 23 :6. \n\n* James speaks of a righteousness by works which Abra- \nham had \"before men,\" and which showed his righteousness \nby faith to be real, not merely professed, and alive, not dead. \nJames 2 : 14-26 cf. Rom. 4 : 2. \n\nf The \"by him\" and \"by Christ\" are literally \"in him\" \nand \"in Christ.\" \n\n\n\nSAL VATION B Y GRACE. 47 \n\nThe issue under the leading of the Spirit of \nGod, is in the works and fruits of righteousness, \nPhil. 1 : 1 1 ; Rom. 7:6; 8:4; Gal. 5:23-25; \nEph. 5:9; Col. 1:6, 10; 3 : 5—17 ; Tit. 2 : 12-14; \n1 John 2 : 29 ; 3:7; Rev. 7 : 14 with 19 : 8. \n\nBut what the believer is, as created after God \nin the righteousness and holiness of truth, Eph. \n4:24;- — what he is because Christ, of God, is \nmade unto him righteousness, 1 Cor. 1 : 30, can- \nnot be fully seen till resurrection, 1 John 3 :2. \n\n4. SALVATION BY GRACE. \n\nPlainly, since man is guilty, Rom. 3 : 19, lost, \nLuke 19:10, condemned already, John 3:18, \nand dead in trespasses and sins,^ Eph. 2:1; \nRom. 8:6, 7, there is nothing he can do to earn \nsalvation or commend himself to God. And as \nplainly, since Christ came into the world to save \nsinners, 1 Tim. 1:15, and finished the work \nGod gave him to do, John 17:4; 19:30, so that \nhe is able to completely save all who come unto \nGod by him, Heb. 7 : 25, there is no work the \nsinner needs to do, no fitness he needs to seek, \nin order that he may receive salvation. \n\n\n\n48 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nHe has not to win God's love ; for God al- \nready loves him, as testified in the gift of his \nSon, John 3 : 16; 1 John 4:9, 10. \n\nThe sinner has not to persuade God to be \nmerciful* and willing to save him ; God, already \nmore than willing to save, Ezek, 33:11; 2 Pet. \n3:9; 1 Tim. 2:4, has been merciful, and is \nbeseeching him to accept salvation, 2 Cor. 5 : 20. \n\nNo emotions or experiences are to be sought, \nto make it right for God to save the sinner, \nRom. 10: 3, 6-8 ; God has already made it right, \nthrough the death of his Son, Rom. 3 : 19-26. \nTo a perfect offering nothing can be added, \nHeb. 10: 1-18. \n\nThe sinner has no money or price of any sort \nto pay, Isa, 55:1-3, for God has already pur- \nchased salvation, that he may make it a free \ngift, Rom. 5 : 1 5-1 8 ; 6:23; Eph. 2 : 8. \n\n* The publican's prayer, Luke 18: 13, was literally \"God \nmake a propitiation for me a sinner ;\" and he was justified be- \ncause he rested, not in anything connected with himself, but \nin a propitiation which God should make, cf. Rom. 3 : 25. But \nto now offer this prayer, instead of accepting the reconciliation \n(Greek, propitiation) God has made, Heb. 2 : 17, is to ignore \nthe great fact of the Gospel, that Christ has died. See note \non propitiation, page 39. \n\n\n\nSAL VA T10N B Y GRACE, 49 \n\nThere is in salvation no mixture of grace and \nworks, God doing his part and we doing our \npart, Rom. 4:4, 5; 11:6. God does all the \nproviding and giving, 2 Tim. 1:9, 10; Titus \n3:3-7; the sinner, in order to salvation, can \nonly receive, 1 John 5 : 11-13. \n\nThe believer is, indeed, called to a holy life, \n1 Pet. 1 :i5, 16; Eph. 4:17-24, and has much \nto do for God because he is saved, Rom. 12:1; \n1 Cor. 6:20; 15 : 10; 2 Cor. 5 : 14, 15 ; yet the sin- \nner, as an unbeliever, has nothing to do before \naccepting Christ, John 6 :28, 29; Acts 16 : 30, 31. \n\nHe has not to wait for a favorable opportuni- \nty, for God declares that now is the accepted \ntime and the day of salvation, 2 Cor. 6:2; \nHeb. 3:7, 8. All things are now ready, Luke \n14:17. \n\nAs simply and really and immediately as one \naccepts any gift, so simply and really and im- \nmediately must the sinner accept the gift of \nGod, Rev. 22 : 17. \n\n\n\n5o GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n5. SALVATION THROUGH REPENTANCE. \n\nFrom the testimony already before us, no self- \nreformation, no protracted agony of soul, no \nmere sorrowing over sin, nor anything whatever \nwhich the sinner works out for himself, need be \nfirst experienced, before he can accept salvation \nas the gift of God. Repentance, therefore, while \noften accompanied by these and similar experi- \nences, must be something different, wrought in \nthe soul by receiving the facts of the gospel. \n\nAccordingly repentance unto life, Acts 11:18, \nis, in the Bible, that change of mind,* in which \n\n* The Greek word for repentance, occurring in the New \nTestament fifty-seven times, is literally an \"after-mind.\" John \nthe Baptist preached to God's ancient people that change of \nmind necessary to the reception of their promised Messiah, \nMatt. 3 : 2, 3. Jesus preached to them that change of mind \nwhich should accept him in his humiliation, Matt. 4:17, .23; \n5 : 3, 10. Peter preached to them that change of mind which \nshould accept Him whom they had Crucified as both Lord and \nChrist, Acts 2 : 36-38. In each case repentance was coming \ninto an after-mind. \n\nAnother word, occurring only five times in the Greek New \nTestament, is translated in our version \" repent,\" which strictly \nmeans an \" after-sorrow,\" and which may be simply \" regret,\" \nas in 2 Cor. J :8 ; or maybe \" remorse,\" as in Matt. 27 : 3, a \nsorrow of the world which worked death, cf. 2 Cor. 7 : 10. But \n\n\n\nREPENTANCE UNTO SALVATION 51 \n\none, instructed by the gospel, acknowledges \nthe truth, 2 Tim. 2 : 25, concerning himself, \nIsa. 6 : 5 ; Job 42 : 5, 6; Matt. 12 141, and con- \ncerning God, Acts 17:23-25, 29, 30; so that, \nforsaking his own ways and giving up his own \nthoughts, Isa. 55:7-9; 2 Kings 5:11-14, he \ncomes to God through Christ, and believes the \ngospel, Acts 20 : 21 ; Mark 1 : 14, 15 ; Luke \n24 : 46, 47. \n\nA man repents when, instead of justifying \nhimself, Luke 1.6 : 15, he turns and confesses his \nsins, Luke 18:9-11, cf. Luke 7:29 and Psa. \n51 : 3, 4 ; and instead of esteeming them lightly, \nis convinced of their exceeding sinfulness, Rom. \n7 : 7—13 ; and instead of making excuses, listens \nto God's invitations, Luke 14:16-24; and in- \nstead of doubting God's love, believes it, 1 John \n4:16; and instead of rejecting God's gift, ac- \ncepts it, 1 John 5 :9-i2. \n\nA man repents when he turns from resting \nupon anything in himself, because he sees noth- \n\nthis \"after-sorrow,\" as in Matt. 21 * 29, 32, may also result in \nthe \"repentance unto salvation'* that does not need to be \nchanged, 2 Cor. 7 : 10. \n\n\n\n52 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\ning there upon which he can rest, and begins to \nrest entirely upon Christ, Luke 5:32; 1 Cor. \n3:11; when, instead of bringing anything he \nhas done as an offering to God, he finds he has \ndone nothing worthy to be offered, and brings \nonly what Christ has done, Gen. 4 : 2-7, cf. Heb. \n11:4; Gen. 22:8; John 1 : 29 ; Heb. 10 : 8-10, \n18, 26 ;* when he suffers himself to be brought \nhome to God through the Shepherd's work, \nthrough the gospel that has sought him out in \nhis sins, and through the fact that in the Fa- \nther s house there is bread enough and to spare, \nLuke 15. See particularly verses 7, 10, 17. \n\nIt is therefore the goodness of God that leads \nto repentance, Rom. 2:4; and repentance unto \nlife is turning to God in Christ, from self and \nsin, \" to servef the living and true God, and to \n\n* The Greek in Heb. 10 : 18, 26 for \"no more \" offering, \" no \nmore\" sacrifice, has the force of \"no different,'' \"no addi- \ntional \" offering or sacrifice. \n\nt While therefore reformation is not repentance, true; re- \npentance will always manifest itself in a life of service and \ndevotion to God, Matt. 3:8; Acts 26: 20. \n\nIt must further be remembered that repentance has been \nhere set forth only as related to the sinner's conversion. The \nbeliever, in his advancing knowledge of the will of God, will \n\n\n\nSAL VA TION THR O UGH FAITH. 53 \n\nwait for his Son from heaven,\" Acts 26:20; \n1 Thess. 1 19, 10. \n\nAccordingly the message which declares the \nfulness of the work of Christ for sinners demands \nan immediate repentance, to the acceptance of \nthe gospel, Mark 1 : 14, 15 ; Luke 24 \\^j ; Acts \n17:30. \n\n6. SALVATION THROUGH FAITH, \n(i.) REPENTANCE AND FAITH. \n\nRepentance unto life, as thus set forth from \nthe Scriptures, plainly involves faith ; and faith \nequally involves repentance. They are not \ntwo separable acts of the soul, but so blended, \nthat faith is the very heart of repentance. Re- \npentance describes the turning from self as \nwell as the turning to God ; faith brings before \nthe mind especially the coming to God. Re- \npentance is the change of a man's mind from \nthe conviction and life which he holds by na- \nture, to the convictions and life wrought by the \ngospel. Faith is his simple and hearty reception \n\nbe led again and again to repentance, which will also show \nitself in a changed life, 2 Cor. 7 :8-n. \n\n\n\nS4 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nof the truth, the reliance upon Christ to which \nthe gospel has brought him. \n\n(2.) FAITH IN GENERAL SAVING FAITH. \n\nAccordingly, in the Bible, faith in general is \ndefined as \" the assurance of things hoped for, \nthe conviction of things not seen/' Heb. 11 : 1, \nGreek. In its simplest form it is belief in the \ntestimony of another, 1 John 5 :g, and comes by \nhearing, Gal. 3:2; Rom. 10 : 17 ; Isa. 55:3. It \nis taking God at his word, Rom. 4 : 20, 21. \n\nThe faith, therefore, that saves, Acts 16:30, \n31, is no arbitrary requirement of God, to be \nfirst fulfilled as a condition, entitling one to \nreceive eternal life, but is itself the very act of \nreceiving the salvation God has provided and \ngiven, Eph. 2:8. It is the single act of taking \none's place behind the blood of the passover \nlamb, which, though sprinkled upon the door- \nposts and lintel, can be no protection to those \nwho remain outside its shelter, Exod. 12. It is \nsimply listening to the message of the gospel, \nwhich, however true and widely proclaimed, can- \nnot produce any effect except it be heard, Isa, \n\n\n\nFAITH IN GENERAL. 55 \n\n55:1-3; Matt. 13:9, 12-16. It is only receiv- \ning the light, which, however clearly it shines \nfrom the uplifted Christ, cannot enlighten nor \nheal one who keeps his eyes shut and face turned \naway, Numb. 21 : 8, 9; John 3 : 14, 18-21 ; 12 : 32, \n33/ 35> 36, 46-48. It is really drinking in the \nwater of life, which, however freely it flows, \ncan no otherwise quench the thirst, Isa. 55 : 1 ; \nJohn 4: 14; 6:35; 7 : 37; Rev, 22 : 17. It is \nmerely taking in the seed which, however vital, \ncannot spring up into life except it be honestly \nreceived into the heart. Luke 8:5-15; John \n6 : 63 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 23. \n\nThus salvation which is entirely by grace \nmust be by faith, Rom. 4 : 16 ; Eph. 2 : 5, 8 ; and \nthe faith essential to salvation, Luke 7:50; 8 : 48, \n50 ; John 6 : 28, 29 ; Rom. 3 : 2 1-26 ; 5:1; 10:9, \n10, instead of being an arbitrary requirement, is, \nin the nature of things, necessary, just as a gift \ncan be accepted only through believing the tes- \ntimony of the giver when he declares that he \ngives it, 1 John 5 :g-io. \n\n\n\n56 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n(3.) THE TESTIMONY TO BE BELIEVED. \n\nThe attention of the sinner must therefore be \ndirected, not to his own faith, or to any process \nof his own mind, but to the testimony of God* \nby which salvation is given. \n\nGod has declared man's need and sin and \ndanger in unmistakable terms. The very rec- \nord that testifies man's utter ruin, has declared \nthat there is salvation for him from God. God \nhas revealed his love in the gift of his Son. He \nhas made him to be an offering for sin. Seated \nnow in righteousness upon a throne of mercy, \nhe declares the way entirely open, and invites \nthe weary and sin-laden to come to him through \nthe Mediator he has provided. He proclaims \npardon for the unworthy through the death of \nhis Son. He declares that every one who comes \nto him, through the sacrifice of the Lamb he \nhas himself provided, is for ever redeemed, for- \n\n* To set forth this testimony in its various parts, separately \nand at length, has been the endeavor in the preceding pages. \nTo them the reader is directed, in the testimony as summed up \nin this and in the following section, for the Scripture referen- \nces to every sentence without one. \n\n\n\nTHE DECISIVE QUESTION, 57 \n\ngiven, and justified. He declares that every \none who believes this testimony, is at once in \npossession of salvation. Behind every one of \nthese statements is the character of God who \ncannot lie, Rom. 3:4; Titus 1 : 1-3 ; Heb. \n6:16-18. \n\n(4.) THE DECISIVE QUESTION. \n\nTherefore the whole question now at issue \nbetween God and the sinner, upon which his \npossession of salvation hinges, is the hearty ac- \nceptance of these declarations as true, John \n3:18; Mark 16: 15, 16. \n\nWill he confess himself a sinner, lost and un- \ndone ? Will he open his eyes to the fact, that \nGod loves him and has salvation for him ? Will \nhe bow to the revelation that God, in the death \nof Christ, has done everything requisite in order \nto bestow salvation ? Will he accept it as a \nreality, that God has given him His Son and \neternal life in Him, and be at peace with God ? \nWill he see Jesus to be his Saviour ? and will \nhe, as reconciled to God, seeing that Jesus, His \nown self, bore his sins in His own body on the tree, \n\n\n\n5 8 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nwith his whole soul bow to Christ as his Lord, \nwho has redeemed him unto Himself, and to \nwhom his whole heart and life and service must \nbelong ? \n\nAt every step the single question is, will the \nsinner take God at his word ? \n\nIf he receives the testimony, in believing, \nRom. 15 : 13, he enters into possession of salva- \ntion and of all the blessings which flow from \nChrist's death, John 3:16, 36; 5:24; 20:31; \nEph. 1 : 3-7 ; 1 John 5:1, 5, 12, and yet, in it \nall, has simply set to his seal that God is true, \nJohn 3:31-33. \n\n(5.) WHAT UNBELIEF INVOLVES. \n\nIf he rejects the testimony, he does nothing \nless than make God a liar, 1 John 5 : 10. In set- \nting aside God's words, Zech. 7:12; Acts. 26 : 28, \nhe denies his own sin and need, John 8 140-45 ; \nLuke 18:11, 12, denies that Christ and his \ndeath have any personal relation to him, Acts \n13 : 45, 46, and denies that there is any gift of \nsalvation for him. \n\nShutting his eyes to the testimony that there \n\n\n\nWHAT UNBELIEF IN VOL VES. 59 \n\nis none other name under heaven, given among \nmen, whereby he must be saved, Acts 4:12, that \nother foundation can no man lay than that is \nlaid, which is Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. 3:11, that if \nrighteousness come by the law, Christ died in \nvain, Gal. 2 :2i, that without shedding of blood \nthere is no remission of sins, Heb. 9:22, that \nno man cometh unto the Father if not by Christ, \nJohn 14:6; 1 Tim, 2:5, that into heaven shall \nin no wise enter any whose names are not writ- \nten in the Lamb's book of life, Rev. 21 : 27, he \nrefuses to recognize Christ as his Saviour and \nhis Lord, John 1 :n ; Luke 20: 14, 15, rebels \nagainst His word and authority,. Luke 19:14, \nand persists in obdurate alienation from God \nand enmity toward Him, John 5 : 40 ; Eph. 4:17- \n19, and further makes God a liar by still hoping \nto be happy. \n\nResisting all the messages of the Holy Spirit, \nhe does despite to His grace ; and unmoved by \nthe love of God, which at such inestimable cost \nhas sought to win him from his sin and bring \nhim to Himself, he tramples upon the Son of God \nand puts him to an open shame, Heb. 6 :6; 10:29. \n\n\n\n6o GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nSurely, as the Scripture itself declares, noth- \ning but the folly and madness, Gal. 3 : 1, which \nsuffers itself to be duped and blinded by Satan, \n2 Cor. 4 : 2-4, nothing but ineradicable hatred \nto God, John 7 :y ; 15:18, 19, 22-25, could per- \nsist in such a course ; and he who does so must \nabide under the wrath of God, John 3 : 36. \n\n7. THE WORK OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN REGEN- \nERATION. \n\nGod the Holy Spirit, Acts 5:3,4; Matt. \n28 : 19; 2 Cor. 13 : 14 ; 1 Cor. 2 : 10, 11 ; 3 : 16, \nthe author of the Scriptures, 1 Cor. 2: 13, 14; \nActs 1:16; 28 : 25 ; Heb. 3:7; 9 : 7, 8 ; 10 : 15 ; \n1 Pet. 1 : 10-12 ; 2 Pet. 1 : 21, is, at every step, \nthe author also of salvation, John 3:5; 7 : 37- \n39; 15:26; 16:7-15; 14:16,17,26; 1 Cor. \n12:3; 2 Cor. 3 : 18 ; Rom. 8:11. \n\nHimself unseen, He is behind every declara- \ntion of the gospel, energizing and vitalizing the \nWord, John 6:63; Acts 2:4; 4:31; 1 Peter \n1 : 12, 22. \n\nHe designedly remains invisible, that Christ \nalone may be held up before the unbeliever and \n\n\n\nREGENERATION. 61 \n\nrevealed in the believer, John 14:17; 15:26; \n16: 13-15 ; Rom. 5 : 5 ; 1 Cor. 12 : 3—1 1 ; 1 John \n\n4:i3. \n\nThe testimony of the necessity of the new \n\nbirth is used in the Scripture, not to turn the \neye from the work of Christ to any working of \nthe Spirit within the heart, but to take from ev- \nery man the last vestige of a hope that he may \nbe saved through any goodness or self develop- \nment of his own, John 3 : 1-8 ; cf. Rom. 8 : 5-9. \n\nThe sinner is, by Christ himself, turned from \nthe process of the new birth and directed to look \nat the cross, John 3 : g— t 5 ; 12 : 32, 33. \n\nIn being born anew he has consciously to do, \nnot with the Spirit himself, but with the words \nof the Spirit by whom he is begotten, John 6 : 63 ; \n\n1 Pet. 1 : 23 ; Jas. 1:18; 2 Pet. 1 : 4. Thus the \nword itself, which the Spirit uses, is a helper in \nthe new birth, John 3 : 5, the water of the Word, \nPsa. 119:9 ; John 13 :6-io; 15:3; Eph. 5 125- \n27 ; Titus 3 : 5, the water of life, Isa. 55 : 1-3, \n10, 1 1 ; John 4 : 10-14, which is the word of life, \nJohn 5 :24 ; 20 : 31 ; Acts 10:22, 43 ; 11 : 14; \n\n2 Tim. 3 : 15. And he who sets aside the testi- \n\n\n\n62 GOSPEL TRUl^H. \n\nmony of the Word, therein rejects Christ and \nresists the Holy Spirit, Gen. 6:3 ; Acts 7:51. \n\nEven as in the material creation the Spirit \nbrooded over chaos, and life was created by the \nWord that spoke light, Gen. 1 : 1-3, 11, 24, 27; \nJob 33 '.4; John 1:3-5; 12:46-50; 2 Cor. 4:6; \nso the Spirit has come into and is brooding over \na ruined world, energizing the words which give \nlight and life ; and he who believes is made alive \nfrom the death in trespasses and sins, Rom. \n6:4-13; 8:2; Eph. 2:5, is a new creation, \na new creature, Gal. 6:15; 2 Cor. 5:17; Eph. \n2:10; 4 : 24 ; Col. 3 : 10, and has been born \nagain, or from above, John 3:3; 1 Pet. 1 :23 ; \nJas. 1:18. \n\nThus as the grape-vine, John 15:1, natural \nbread, John 6:32—35, etc., are figures of which \nChrist is the reality, so the new birth is no \nfigure of speech, but a divine reality, of which \nthe natural birth is the figure. This is evident \nfrom the minute detail concerning the new \nbirth. 1. There is a begetting, cf. Matt. 1:2; \nLuke 1:35; John 1:13; 3:3, etc. 2. There are \nchildren \" begotten, \" Greek \"tekna,\" Scotch \n\n\n\nRE GENERA TION. 63 \n\n\" bairns,\" literally \" born ones,\" see Rom. 8 : 16, and \nthe argument founded upon the fact in verse \n17. 3. There is, in 1 John 2 : 29-3 : 3, a distinct \nstatement, that in order to truly call us \" born \nones \" or children, he \" begat us out from\" him- \nself. 4. Accordingly, and as matter of fact, there \nis no warrant for the word ''adoption,\" as used \nin the English version. Wherever found, there \nis no thought of transfer, and the Greek word \nfor it should be rendered \" sonship.\" By birth \nwe are put into the position of heirs, Rom. \n8:15,23; 9:4; Gal. 4:5; Eph. 1:5. 5. There \nis a seed used to communicate life, 1 Pet. 1 123. \n6. Through its reception one becomes a partaker \nof the divine nature, 2 Pet. 1:4. 7. God's chil- \ndren are always born *' babes\" and expected \nto grow and reach maturity, 1 Pet. 2:2; Heb. \n5 : 1 1—1*4. Certainly Christ did not come to reveal \na figure of speech, John 1 : 18 ; and, as really as the \nchild Jesus was conceived by the power of the \nHoly Spirit, so really is the believer born of the \nSpirit of God, cf. Luke 1 : 28—38 and John 3. \n\nWhile the believer is, by spiritual birth, made \nin reality a partaker of the divine nature, 2 Pet. \n\n\n\n64 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n1:4; 1 Cor. 12:13; Gal. 3:26, the testimony \nfurther is explicit, that this does not transform \nor remove the carnal nature which he has by \nhuman birth : but that the two, existing together \nin him, John 3 :6, are radically opposed the one \nto the other, Rom. 7:14-25; 8:5-7; Gal. \n5 : 16-25 i 6:7, 8. The believer accordingly is \ncalled practically to identify himself with his \nnew nature, by submitting himself in every part \nof his experience and action to the direction of \nthe Holy Spirit, Rom. 7:4-6; 8:2-17; Gal. \n2 : 19, 20 ; 5:25; Eph. 4 : 22-24, 3° ; Phi'. 3 • 3 5 \nCol. 3 : 1-17. \n\nThe whole testimony, therefore, concerning \nthe work of the Holy Spirit forbids one who \nwould become a child of God, to expect to \nchange his own heart, and shuts him up to \nrepentance toward God and faith toward the \nLord Jesus Christ ; and it is equally positive in \ndeclaring that every one who has received Christ, \nhas been born of God, John 1:12, 13. \n\n8. HOW ONE MAY KNOW PIE IS SAVED. \n\nGod calls upon the believer to know that he \n\n\n\nONE MAY KNO IV HE IS SA FED. 65 \n\nhas passed from death unto life, John 5 : 24 ; \n\n1 John 5:13. \n\nThe source of this knowledge is twofold ; \nfrom the fruit of the Spirit in himself, and from \nthe testimony of God. \n\n(1.) BY THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT. \n\nThe fruit of the Spirit in the life and experi- \nence of the believer, proceeding as it must from \nthe Spirit's presentation and revelation of Christ, \nJohn 14 : 16-27 ; 16 : 13-15 ; Rom. 5:5; 8:15; \n\n2 Cor. 3 : 18 ; is not to be sought by looking away \nfrom Christ, to search one's own heart ; and yet \nhe who is consciously occupied with Christ is \nconscious also of spiritual experiences, such as \nrighteousness, Rom. 14:17; 1 John 2:29; \n3:5-10; love, joy, peace, and kindred graces, \nGal. 5 :22, 23 ; Rom. 15:13; obedience to his \ncommands, John 14 : 15 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 2, 22 ; 1 John \n\n2 ' 3~S ; 3 : 18-24 ; love for the brethren, 1 John \n\n3 : 14, 19-23 ; 5:1,2; the preciousness of Christ \n\n1 Pet. 2:6, 7; the seven-fold products of faith, \n\n2 Pet. 1 : 5-1 1 ; and the manifold characteristics \nof the new man, Eph. 5 1-2 1 ; Col. 2:6, 7; \n\n3:i-i7. \n\n9 \n\n\n\n66 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nSuch an experience of Christ, which can be \nwrought only by the Holy Spirit in one who \nwalks in him, assures the heart of the believer \nbefore God ; and the more fully he enters into \nthis experience, the more conscious will he be of \nhis filial relation to God. \n\n(2.) FROM THE TESTIMONY OF GOD. \n\nGod would not have the believer rely solely, \nor even mainly, upon experience as the source \nof assurance. Many children of God are either \nin legal bondage, or distressed with doubts, be- \ncause too much occupied with their \" evidences,\" \ninstead of looking at Christ, 2 Cor. 3:18. \n\nBecause of the fluctuations of emotion and \nexperience, and because the heart is deceitful \nabove all things, and incurably wicked, in \nsearching only himself, one may often be de- \nceived, and either be puffed up with false satis- \nfaction in himself, or brought into darkness and \nuncertainty, Jer. 17:9; Rom. 7:11. On the \nother hand, Christ is the truth as well as the way \nand the life, John 14:6; 1 John 5:19, 20. And \nit is not the Spirit's work in us, but Christ's work \n\n\n\nFROM THE TESTIMONY OF GOD. 67 \n\nfor us, which is the only ground of the believer's \nacceptance with God, and so must be the great \nsource of his personal assurance of salvation. \n\nThe very Scriptures which bring one the tes- \ntimony to his own sin and the work of Christ, \nalso declare that he who believes is saved, Luke \n7 : 48, 50 ; 1 Cor. 1 : 1 8 ; 2 Cor. 2:15; Eph. 2:5, \n8 ; Tit. 3 : 5 ; 2 Tim. 1 : 9. \n\nHe who believes that Christ died for his sins, \n1 Pet. 3:18, has the same word for it that he \nis passed from death unto life, John 3 : 16, 36; \n5:24. \n\nHe who believes the record that God has given \nhim His Son, has the same record upon which to \nbelieve that Christ and eternal life are his, 1 John \n\n5:9-13. \n\nHe who believes in Christ as having wrought \n\ncomplete redemption through His blood, has the \n\ntestimony of God that this redemption is his, \n\neven the forgiveness of sins, and that he is not \n\nhis own because bought with a price, Eph, 1 :6, \n\n7 ; Col. 1 : 13, 14; 1 Pet. 1 : 18, 19 ; 1 Cor. 6 : 19, \n\n20; Tit. 2 : 14. \n\nHe who believes that the sacrifice is perfect, \n\n\n\n68 GOSPEL TRUTH, \n\nhas the word of God that Christ has made his \npeace, that he is now brought nigh to God, and \nthat he is completely justified, Eph. 2:13-22; \nCol. 1 : 20-22 ; Rom. 5 : 1 ; 1 Cor. 6:11; 2 Cor. \n5:21; and possessing the remission of sins, has \nboldness, by the blood of Jesus, to draw near to \nGod in the full assurance of faith, Hebrews \n10: 12-22. \n\nBut the word of God certifies the believer of \nhis salvation by more than its testimony to the \ncompleteness of the work of Christ for us. It \nalso bears definite testimony that all who believe \non him have been born of God. As, in human \nbirth, both the time and the parentage are known \nupon testimony and not by consciousness, nor \nmemory, nor even by family traits and affections ; \nso, even when one can fix upon no definite time \nwhen he was born, and can remember no marked \nexperience which he would call regeneration, can \nthe believer upon God's testimony be perfectly \nsure of spiritual birth, John 1 : 12, 13 ; 3 : 16, 36 ; \n5 : 24 ; 1 Cor. 2 : 9-14 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 23. \n\nMoreover, it is the will of God that the be- \nliever should know that he has eternal life, 1 John \n\n\n\nWHA T BELIE VERS ARE. 69 \n\n5 19-13 ; and the heart of the Father, not will- \ning that his child should walk in darkness, John \n8:12; 12 146, longs to have him possess the joy \nand strength which the assurance of salvation \nwould give. \n\n9. WHAT BELIEVERS ARE AND HAVE, THE LIFE \nTO WHICH THEY ARE CALLED, AND THE HOPE \nSET BEFORE THEM. \n\nWonderful as the testimony already consid- \nered is, the love of Christ passes knowledge, and \nan endless learning will be necessary in order to \nknow all that the believer is and has in Christ. \nAnd while secret things belong unto the Lord \nour God, Deut. 29 : 29, the things that are re- \nvealed belong to us, and we are called to appre- \nhend that for which we have been apprehended \nin Christ Jesus, Phil. 3 : 8-14. \n\n(i.) WHAT BELIEVERS ARE. \nWe are children of God through faith in \nJesus Christ, Gal. 3:26; 1 John 3:1, 2. We \nare quickened with Christ, and in him are risen \nand seated in heavenly places, Eph. 2 : 4-9. Our \ncitizenship is in heaven, Eph. 2:19, 20; Phil. \n\n\n\n70 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n3 : 20, Greek; Heb. u : 13-16; and we are the \nfamily of God, Ephes. 2 : 19 ; 3 : 14, 15 ; Heb. \n12:23, the brethren of the Lord Jesus Christ, \nHeb. 2 : 10-12, 17, sons of God and joint-heirs \nwith Christ, Gal. 4 : 1-7 ; Rom. 8:14-17. As \nthe Father has loved the Son, so he loves us, \nJohn 15:9; 17:23-26. We are a chosen gen- \neration, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's \npurchased people, 1 Pet. 2 :g t 10, the espoused \nBride of Christ, 2 Cor. 11:2; Ephes. 5 : 25-27; \nRev. 19:7-9, and members in particular of his \nbody, 1 Cor. 12:12, 13; Eph. 1:22, 23; 4 : 15, \nI( 5; S : 30 ; Col. 1 : 18, 24; 2 : 19. \n\nEven as Christ is, so are we in this world, \n1 John 4: 17. He is. the Lamb of God, John \n1 : 36 ; we are the sheep of his pasture, the fol- \nlowers of the Lamb, Psalm 23; 79:13; John \n10 :4, 27, 28; Rev. 14:4. \n\nHe is the First-born of every creature, from \namong many brethren, and from the dead, Col. \n1 : 15, 18 ; Rom. 8 : 29 ; we are the church of the \nfirst-born, Heb. 12:23. (In the Greek, \"first- \nborn \" is in the plural.) \n\nHe is the Beloved Son, Matt. 3:17; 17:5; \n\n\n\n1VIIA 2\" BEL IE VERS ARE. 7 1 \n\nEph. 1:6; we in him are the beloved of God, \nhis children, Rom. 1:7; Col. 3:12; 1 John \n\n3M. \n\nHe is the Holy One of God, Psa. 16: 10; in \n\nhim we are holy, Col. 3:12; Heb. 3 : 1. \n\nHe is the foundation-stone, Isa. 28 : 16 ; 1 Cor. \n3 : 11-; we are living stones built upon him, and \nof whom he is the crown and topstone, Eph. \n2 : 20 ; 1 Pet. 2 : 4-7. \n\nHe is the vine, we are the branches, John \n\nIS- \n\nHe is the Word of God, John 1:1, 2, 14; \n\nRev. 19:13; we are words of God, Acts 6:7; \n12 : 24; 2 Cor. 3 :2, 3. \n\nHe is the King of kings, John 18 : 37 ; 1 Tim. \n6:13-16; Rev, 17:14; 19:16, and the great \nHigh-priest, Heb. 4:14; 8:1; we are kings \nand priests unto God, 1 Pet. 2:9; Rev. 1:6; \nnot only witnessing a good confession, but also \ninterceding for the world, and bringing Christ \nto those who are ruined. \n\nHe is the light of the world, John 8:12; we \nin him are light and the children of light, Matt. \n5:14; Eph. 5 : 8 ; 1 Thess. 5 : 4-8. \n\n\n\n72 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nHe was the Servant of God, Matt. 20 : 26-28 ; \nJohn 13:4-10; Phil. 2:7; we are servants of \nGod, Rom. 6.22 ; Jas. 1 : 1. \n\nHe was sent of the Father; we are sent of \nChrist, John 17:18; 20:21. \n\n(2.) WHAT BELIEVERS HAVE. \n\nIn Christ Jesus, as before shown, we have \neternal life, acceptance in the Beloved, redemp- \ntion through his blood, and the forgiveness of \nsins according to the riches of the grace of God ; \nand so of him Christ is made unto us wisdom, \neven righteousness, sanctification, and resurrec- \ntion.* Though \" all things \" are thus now the \npossession of the believer, grace and peace are \nmultiplied to us in the measure of our experi- \nmental knowledge of what we have, 1 Cor. \n3 : 21-23 ; 2 Pet. 1 : 1-4 ; Phil. 3 : 8-10. In Christ \nwe have the Father's care, Matt. 6 : 25-34 ; Luke \n\n* The questions of the Greek philosophy, unanswerable by \nhuman wisdom — How shall a man be just with God, pure in \nheart, and delivered from the ruin which sin has wrought in \nthe body itself? — are all answered in Christ. The redemption \nspoken of in I Cor. I : 30 is therefore, from the argument of \nthe passage, resurrection, the redemption of the body, Rom. \n8 : 23 ; Eph. 1 : 14. \n\n\n\nWHA 7' BELIE VERS HA VE. 73 \n\n1 2 : 6, 7 ; 1 Pet. 5 : 7, and nurture, John 15:1,2; \nPsa. 107; 1 Cor. 11:32; Heb. 12:3-13; heav- \nenly food, 1 Pet. 2:2; Heb. 5 : 11-14, cf John \n16 : 12, 25 ; Exod. 12 : 8-1 1, 14, cf 1 Cor. 5 : 7, \n8, and John 6 : 53-58 ; Isa. 55 : 1-3, and John \n6 : 30-35 ; Exod. 16 : 12-22 ; Deut. 8 : 1-9 ; Psa. \n81 : 13, 16 ; 119: 103 ; Ezek. 3 : 3, cf Rev. 10 :g, \n10, and Numb. 21 : 4-6 ; Job. 23 : 12 ; Jer. 15 : 16, \nthe supply of every earthly need, Psa. 84 : 1 1 ; \n103:1-5; Matt. 6:32, 33; Phil. 4:19; the \nShepherd's watchfulness, Psa. 23 ; John 10: 1-29, \nwisdom, Prov. 2 : 1-11 ; Jas. 1 : 5 ; 2 Tim. 1 : 7, \nguidance, Psa. 32 : 8 ; Prov. 3:5,6; John 16:13; \nRom. 8 : 14, power, Acts 1:8; Ephes. 3 : 16; \n6:10; Col. 1 : 1 1 ; 2 Tim. 1 : 7, and victory over \nthe world, Rom. 8:37; 1 John 5 : 4, 5. \n\nThus it is ours experimentally to search out \nthe unsearchable riches of Christ, Eph. 3:8; to \nknow the love of Christ, which passes knowl- \nedge, Eph. 3 : 19; in our hearts to understand \nand be kept by the peace of God, which passeth \nall understanding, John 14:27; Phil. 4:7; to \nspeak from experience the joy that is unspeaka- \nble and full of glory, John 15 19-11 ; 1 Pet. 1:8; \n\n10 \n\n\n\n74 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nand be filled with all the fulness of God, Eph. \ni : 23 ; 3:19; Co1 - 2 -9> IO - \n\n(3.) THE BELIEVER'S LIFE. \n\nIn view of what we are and have and hope \nFor in Christ, what manner of persons ought we \nto be in all holiness of life and godliness, 2 Pet. \n\n3:u. \n\nWe are bidden to consider Jesus, Heb. 3:1; \nto walk in him, Col. 2:6, 7, and in his steps, \n1 Pet. 2 : 21-25 ; 1 John 2:6; to walk worthy of \nthe Lord unto all pleasing, being fruitful in every \ngood work, and increasing in the knowledge of \nGod, Col. 1 : 10; and to walk worthy of the call- \ning wherewith we are called, Eph. 4: 1-3. \n\nEntering into the manhood that is after God's \nown heart, (see page 11,) it is his will that we \nshould appropriate the family personal pronouns, \n(see page 41 and the epistles themselves,) and \nbe persuaded by the frequent \" wherefore \" and \n\" therefore \" which leads from the teaching to \nthe arguments and exhortations by which the \nHoly Spirit beseeches us in Christ, Rom. 6:12, \n13; 7:4; 8:1, 12; 13:11-14; 14:12, 13, 18, \n\n\n\nTHE BELIEVER'S LIFE. 75 \n\n19 ; 15:7; i Cor. 5 :6-8 ; 6: 20; 15:58; 2 Cor. \n5:5-11; Gal. 5:1 ; Eph. 2: 11-13; 5 : 1,2; Phil. \n2:12; 3:20—4: 1 ; Col. 2 : 13-20; 3 : 3-5, etc. \n\nGod is glorified in our lives according as we \nbear much fruit, John 15:8, 16. See fruit of the \nSpirit, page 65. \n\nThus we are called to be the obedient children \nof God, John 14:15; 15:14; Rom. 6:16-18; \n2 Cor. 10:5; 1 Pet. 1 : 13, 14, entirely consecra- \nted to him and to his service, Rom. 12: 1, 2; \n2 Cor. 5 : 14-17 ; Gal. 2 : 20, because bought with \nthe precious blood of Christ, 1 Cor. 6:19, 20; \n7: 23 ; 1 Pet. 1:18, 19, and indwelt by his Spirit, \nRom. 8:11; 1 Cor. 3:16; 2 Cor. 6 : 16. \n\nWe are called to live by his word, Psalm \n119:105; Matt. 4:4, studying it, Psa. 1:2; \n119:24, 97-100; 2 Tim. 3:14-17; Col. 3:16, \nand teaching it, Deut. 6:6-9; Matt. 13:52; \n2 Tim. 4: 1, 2, ourselves taught and led by the \nHoly Spirit, John 16:13; Rom. 8:14; 1 Cor. \n2 : 1-4. \n\nWe are called to be separate from the world, \nJohn 17:15, 16; 2 Tim. 2:3,4, from its aims, \nMatt. 6 : 32, 33, from its eagerness after pleasure, \n\n\n\n76 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\n2 Tim. 3:4, and wealth, 1 Tim. 6:7-12; Heb. \n13:5, from its lusts, Titus 2:12; 1 John 2:15, \n16, from its glorying, Jer. 9: 23, 24; 1 Cor. 1 : 29, \n31, from its affections, 1 John 2: 15, from its \nprinciples and maxims, Col. 2 : 8, and its associa- \ntions, 2 Cor. 6:14-17, while we lovingly seek \nthe salvation of those under its sway, Luke \n15:1-24; 1 Cor. 5:9, 10; 9:18, 22; Romans \n9:1-3; 10: 1 ; Jude 22, 23. \n\nWe are called to love those who are Christ's, \nJohn 13 ; 34, 35 ; 15 : 12-14, confessing him by \nbeing united to those that are his, Rom. 12:3- \n16 ; 14: 7 ; 15 : 1-7; 1 Cor. 11 :24 ; Eph. 4:2- \n16, and not forsaking the assembling of our- \nselves together as the manner of some is, Psa. \n84 : 1-4, 10 ; Heb. 10 : 25 ; Jude 4, 8, 19. \n\nWe are called to follow Christ both as Master \nand Leader, Matt. 11 : 29 ; Mark 2:14; Heb. \n12:2, letting him rule our lives, Rom. 12:17- \n21 ; 13 : 7, 8 ; 2 Cor. 8:21; Phil. 2 : 15, 16 ; \n1 Thess. 2:12; 1 Pet. 2 : n-21 ; 4: 1-5, living \nfor him at home, Luke 8 : 39, and in little things, \n1 Cor. 10:31, speaking for him, Psa. 40 : 10 ; \nActs 1:8; 4 : 20 ; 2 Cor. 5:11, 13; laboring for \n\n\n\n7 HE BELIEVER'S /WEE. 77 \n\nsouls, 1 Cor. 9:16, 19, 22, watching our influ- \nence, Rom. 14: 15 ; 1 Cor. 8:13, and walking \ncircumspectly toward them that are without, \nEph. 5:15; Col. 4 : 5 ; 1 Thess. 4:12. \n\nWe are to be pure in heart, 2 Tim. 2 : 19-22 ; \nPhil. 4 : 8, 9 ; 1 Pet. 2:11, active, 2 Cor. 9 : 6-8 ; \nEph. 2:10; Titus 2 : 14, humble, Phil. 2 : 3, for- \nbearing, Eph. 4:2; Phil. 2 : 14 ; Col. 3:12, 13 ; \n1 Thess. 5:15, loving, 1 Cor. 13 ; 1 Thess. 3:12; \n\n1 John 4 : 16, prayerful, Rom. 12 : 12 ; Eph. 6: 18 ; \nPhil. 4:6; 1 Thess. 5:17, to grow in grace, \nEph. 4:15; Phil. 3 : 12-14; 2 Thess. 1 : 3 ; 1 Pet, \n\n2 : 2 ; 2 Pet. 3:18, and to live relying upon God's \npromises, 2 Tim. 1 : 12; Heb. 10: 35-39, with \nour hearts in heaven, Col. 3 : 1-5 ; Heb. 1 1 : 1 3— \n16, waiting and looking for God's Son, Phil. \n\n3 : 20 ; 1 Thess. 1:9, 10 ; Titus 2:13, who will \nbring for every faithful child of God His own \npraise, 1 Cor. 4 : 1-5, and reward, Rev. 22 : 12, a \ncrown of life, Jas. 1 : 12, of righteousness, 2 Tim. \n4:8, and of rejoicing, 1 Thess. 2 : 19. \n\n(4.) THE BELIEVERS HOPE. \n\nHoly and blessed as such a life is, precious \nand wonderful as the relations and possessions \n\n\n\n78 GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\nof the believer are, all is but the earnest of that \nwhich is to come. \n\nThough we have eternal life now, we also wait \nfor its fulness, John 17:3; cf.i John 3:2; Titus \n1:2; 3 : 4-7. \n\nPossessing the salvation of our souls, we are \nheirs of the salvation yet to be revealed, 1 Pet. \n1:5. \n\nIn the midst of suffering and service now, \nthere is awaiting us both rest, 2 Thess. 1:7; \nHeb. 4 : 9, and reward, Dan. 12^3; Matt. 5:19; \n6 : 19, 20 ; 10 : 32, 40-42 ; 16 : 27 ; John 12 : 26 ; \nr Cor. 3:8-14; 4:5; 15:41; 2 Cor. 5:9, 10; \nRev. 14: 13, and still- more glorious service, Rev. \n7;iS; 22:3. \n\nTo depart and be with Christ is far better \nthan our present joy, Phil. 1 : 21-24, but our hope \nis resurrection, Acts 2:26; 23:6; 24:14, 15; \nRom. 8:23-25; 1 Cor. 15:23, 50-54; 2 Cor. \n5 : 1-8 ; 1 Thess. 4:13-17; 1 Pet. 1 : 3. \n\nThe Lord Jesus is himself our hope, Eph. \n4:4; 1 Tim. 1:1, and we shall be like him \nwhen we see him, Rom. 8:11, 29,30; Phil. \n3 :20, 21 ; 1 John 3:1-3. \n\n\n\nTHE BELIEVER'S HOPE, 79 \n\nThen shall be the manifestation of our son- \nship, Rom. 8:19; 2 Cor. 5 : 9-1 1 ; Col. 3 : 4, and \nwe shall be presented blameless and faultless un- \nto himself and before the Father, Eph. 5 125-27 ; \n1 Thess. 5 :23 ; Jude 24. \n\nThe marriage of the Lamb will come, and \n\"all glorious,\" her clothing of wrought gold, Ps. \n45 : 13-15, his Bride shall sit down with him at \nthe feast, Matt. 22 : 1-14 ; 25 : 1-13 ; 26 : 29, cf. \n1 Cor. 11:26; 2 Cor. 11:2; Eph. 5:25-27; \nRev. 19 :7~9. \n\nThere is thus for us, kept by the power of \nGod, an inheritance that is incorruptible, 1 Pet \n1:4; Eph. 2 :7, a fadeless crown, 2 Tim. 4:8 ; \n\n1 Pet. 5 :4, a seat upon the throne with Christ, \n\n2 Tim. 2:12; 2 Pet. 1 : 1 1 ; Rev. 3:21; 20 : 4. \nand an endless fellowship with, him in glory, \nJohn 17:22-24; Rom. 5:2; 8:16-18; 1 Cor. \n1 5 : 43 ; 2 Cor. 4:17; Col. 3:4; 1 Thess. 2:12; \n2 Thess. 1 : 10 ; 2 : 14 ; Heb. 2 : 10 ; 1 Pet. 1 : 7, 8 ; \n5:1; 2 Pet. 1 : 3. \n\nUtterly beyond our present conception as all \nthis is, il is revealed and is therefore no uncertain- \nty, 1 Cor. 2 :g, 10, being based upon the immu- \n\n\n\n8o GOSPEL TRUTH. \n\ntable counsel and inviolable oath of God, Heb. \n6:13-18; Eph. 1:3-14. For every one who \nhas fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set \nbefore us in the Gospel, it is \" sure and steadfast, \nan anchor to the soul, entering into that within \nthe veil,\" whither the Forerunner, even Jesus \nour High Priest, has for us entered. Heb. \n6 : 1 8-20. \n\nFINALLY. \n\nMay the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the \nFather of glory, give unto all who have believed \na spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowl- \nedge of him, the eyes of our hearts being en- \nlightened that we may know what is the hope \nof his calling, and what the riches of the glory \nof his inheritance in the saints, Eph. 1 : 15-18. \nNow unto him that is able to do exceeding \nabundantly above all that we ask or think, ac- \ncording to the power that vvorketh in us, unto \nhim be glory in the church by Christ Jesus \nthroughout all ages, world without end. Amen \nEph. 3 : 14-21. \n\n\n\n70 ' \n\n\n\nC<t<C \n\n\n\n., '.«f«T\"CC \n\n<-^ crc \n\n\n\n<L<CS«: Or <1 \n\n\n\n< \n\n\n; cc \n\n\n<* \n\n\n<: \n\n\n* \n\n\n*» \n\n\n<: \n\n\n\n\n^ \n\n\n<L \n\n\n\n\n«i \n\n\n<^ \n\n\n\n\n« \n\n\n«c \n\n\n\n\n4 \n\n\n<^ \n\n\n\n\n4 \n\n\nd^ \n\n\n\n\n« \n\n\nG \n\n\n\n\n< \n\n\nen \n\n\n\n\n1 \n\n4 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n111 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nDeacidified using the Bookkeeper process. \nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide \nTreatment Date: August 2005 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nc CC \n\n\n\nPreservationTechnologies \n\nA WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION \n\n1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive \nCranberry Township, PA 16066 \n(724) 779-21 1 1 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nCcC \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nffff \n\ncsrcr \n\n\n\nc<crc \n\n\n\n<L Co- - \n\nCccic \n\n\n\n... <2<^<S^« \n\n\n\nz c \n\n\n\n■ ^C3 \n\n\n\n\".<3C \n. <o \n\n\n\n\n\n\nZUL€Z \n\ncodc: \n.ccc \n\n\n\n\n\n\n• c:c:c cr^c^c \n\n\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS \n\n\n\n\n"
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    "content": "T H E L I F E \n\n\n\nor \n\n\n\n\nREV. RICHARD BAXTER. \n\n\n\nODEFLT COMPILED FROM HIS OWN WRITIKOS. \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n\n150 NASSAU-STREET, NE^V-YOEK. \n\n\n\nD. Faiisbaw, Printer. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nCiuPTER I. — His early life and conversion. — His fa- \nther — early vices — the Bible and religious books \nblessed in his conversion — his early studies — fee- \nble health — spiritual conflicts— sources of comfort \n— death of his mother — desire to be tiseful. . . . t \n\nChapter II. — His ordination and first public engaoe- \nMENTs. — Preaches at Dudley — removes to Bridg- \nnorth — and then to Kidderminster 21 \n\nChapter III. — Hi.s labors, trials, and success at Kid- \nderminster. — Benefit of previous trials — branded \nas a traitor — hardly escapes with life — leaves Kid- \nderminster and preaches to soldiers at Coventry — \nbecomes chaplain of a regiment under Cromwell — \nfailure of his health — writes the Saints' Rest — re- \nturns to Kidderminster, and remains fourteen \nyears — character of his labors — acts as a physi- \ncian — success of his ministry — various moans of \nusefulness employed — his \" Reformed Pastor \" — \nis consulted by Cromwell — writes his \" Call to the \nUnconverted,\" and o'ther works 25 \n\nChapter IV. — His engagements after leaving Kidder- \nminster. — Visits London — preaches to parliament \n— interview witl. t-be king — attempts to reconcile \n\n\n\n4 \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nthe conflicting parties — declines a bishopric — for- \nbidden to return to Kidderminster — his interest in \nmissions to the Indians — writes to Eliot — great con- \ncern for the conversion of the world — further un- \nsuccessful attempts at reconciliation — is accused of \nsedition — preaches in London — not allowed to ad- \ndress his people at Kidderminster— is ejected, with \n2,000 others, by the \"Act of Uniformity \" — his mar- \nriage — the plague and fire in London — preaches in \nhis ovm house — acquaintance with Judge Hale. . 60 \n\nChapter V. — His persecution', trials, and DE.tTH. — Is \napprehended and ca.st into prison, where he is kept \nin great peace — is oflered preferment by the king \nof Scotland — reasons for declining it — is licensed \nto preach again, under restrictions — preaches in \nLondon — writes the \" Poor Man's Family Book,\" \nand other works — great success in preaching — in- \nterrupted by persecutions — death of Mrs. Baxter — \nfeeble health and further persecutions — commences \na \" Paraphrase of the New Testament\" — is char- \nged with sedition for writing it — mock trial before \nLord Chief Justice Jeffries — is two years impri- \nsoned — Matthew Henry's description of his pa- \ntience — he is released from prison — preaches in \nhis own house — last sickness— death 89 \n\nChapter VI.— His person, views of himself, and ge- \nneral CHARACTER. — His pcrsoH — his survey of his \nown character, showing the changes from his ear- \nlier to his riper years — character of his prayers — \nof his sermons — his works — his bodily sufferings — \nlove to souls — walk with God 123 \n\n\n\nNOTE. \n\n\n\nThe life of this eminent servant of God, abound- \ning with striking incidents, and adapted to be use- \nful to all, is published nearly in the present form \nby the Religious Tract Society in London. Some \ncorrections of obscure phraseology and antique style \nare here made, without altering the character of the \nnarrative. The reader will be struck with his extra- \nordinary reliance on the efficacy of prayer ; his abun- \ndant labors as a pastor; the rudeness, ignorance, and \npersecuting spirit of the age in which he lived ; his \nburning zeal for the spread of the Gospel at that \nearly period of modern missions ; the great variety of \nworks he was enabled to write, though in a very low \nstate of health ; and the wonderful extent to which \nthe powers of the mind may be kept up by the ha- \nbitual exercise of them, even amid the multiplied \ninfirmities of old age. \n\nA more full account of the man, comprising a \ndescription of his voluminous writings, may be found \nby the student in \" Baxter's Life and Times, by Rev. \nWilliam Orme • \" 2 vols, octavo. \n\n\n\nREV. \n\n\n\nL.IFE OF \n\nTHE \n\nRICHARD BAXTER \n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\nHIS EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION. \n\nRichard Baxter was born at Rowton, Shropshire, \n(England,) on the 12th of November, 1615. He resided \nin that village with his maternal grandfather till he \nwas nearly ten years of age, when he was taken home \nto live with his parents at Eaton Conslantine, in the \nsame county. His father, he says, \" had the competent \nestate of a freeholder, free from the temptations of po- \nverty and riches; but having been addicted to gaming \nin his youth, as was also his father before him, it was \nso entangled by debts, that it occasioned some excess \nof worldly cares before it was freed.\" \n\nThe father of Richard Baxter, about the time cf his \nson's birth, became seriously impressed with the im- \nportance of divine truth, and appears to have subse- \nquently become a sincere follower of the Redeemer. \nHis conversion was effected chiefly through the instru- \nmentality of reading the Scriptures. He had but few \nopportunities of attending on other means of grace. \nMany of the pulpits were occupied by ministers igno- \n\n\n\n8 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nrant of ihe truili as it is in Jesus ; and those who preach- \ned the Gospel in its purity were, for the most part, so \ndespised and contemned, that it required no small share \nof moral courage to attend on their ministry. Convert- \ned himself, he became anxious for the salvation of his \nonly son. He directed the attention of his youthful \ncharge to tlie sacred Scriptures, whence he had himself \nderived so much benent. Nor were his in&irueiions \nand efforts al together vain. Baxter thus mgenuousiy \nconfesses his early &ins and convictions, in his history \nof his own life and times : \n\nAt first my father set me to read the liistorica] parts \nof Scripture, which, suiting with my nature, greatly \ndelighted me; and though all that time I neither un- \nderstood nor relished much the doctrinal part and mys- \ntery of redemption, yet it did me good, by acquainting \nme with the matters of fact, and drawing me on to love \nthe Bible, and to search by degrees into the rest. \n\n\" But though my conscience would trouble me when \nI sinned, yet diveta sins I was addicted to, and often \ncommitted against uiy conscience; which, lor the warn- \ning of others, I will here confess, to my shame. \n\n\" 1. I was much addicted, when I feared correction, \nto lie, that I might escape. \n\n\" 2. I was much addicted to the excessive gluttonous \neatingof apples and pears, which, I think, laid the foun- \ndation of that weakness of my stomach which caused \nthe bodily calamities of my life. \n\n\" 3. To this end, and to concur with naughty boys \nthat gloried in evil, I have often gone into other men's \norchards, and stolen their fruit, when I had enough at \nhome. \n\n\"4. I was somewhat excessively addicted to play, \nand that with covetousness for money. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n9 \n\n\n\n\" 5. I was extremely bewitched with a love of ro- \nmances, fables, and old tales, which corrupted my affec- \ntions and wasted my time. \n\n\" 6. I was guilty of much idle foolish chat, and imi- \ntation of boys in scurrilous foolish words and actions, \nthough I durst not swear. \n\n\" 7. I was too proud of the commendations of my \ninstructors, who all of them fed my pride, making me \nseven or eight years the highest in the school, and \nboasting of me to others; which, though it furthered \nmy learning, yet helped not my humility. \n\n\" 8. I was too bold and irreverent towards my pa- \nrents. \n\n\" These were my sins, with which, in my childhood, \nconscience troubled me for a great while before they \nwere overcome.\" \n\nHis convictions gathered strength, although occa- \nsionally resisted. The temptations to neglect religion \nwere strong and powerful. The reproach cast on his \nfather and others, who, for their desire and pursuit of \nlioliness, were contemptuously designated \"Puritans,\" \nproved for a season a stumbling-block in his path. Still, \niiowever, the reflecting mind of the son led him to dis- \ncern the difference between the conduct of his father \nand that of his calumniators, and to conclude that there \nwas more of reason and truth in a life of holiness, tlian \nin a life of impiety and rebellion against the majesty \nof heaven. He says : \n\n\" In the village where I lived, the Reader read the \ncommon prayer briefly; and the rest of the day, even \ntill dark night almost, except eating time, was spent \nin dancing under a may-pole and a great tree, not far \nfrom my father's door, where all the town met toge- \nther : and though one of my father's own tenants was \n\n\n\n10 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nthe piper, he could not re*irain him not break the \nsport: so that we could not read the Scripture in our \nfamily without the great disturbance of the taber and \npipe, and noise in the street 1* Many times my mind \nwas inclined to be among them, and sometimes I broke \nloose from my conscience and joined with them ; and \nthe more I did it, the more I was inclined to it. But \nwhen I heard them call my father ' Puritan,- it did \nmuch to cure me and alienate me from them ; for I \nconsidered that ray father's exercise of reading the \nScripture was better than theirs, and would surely be \njudged better by all men at the last; and I considered \nwhat it was. for which he and others were thus derided. \nM'hen I heard them speak scornfully of others, as Pu- \nritans, whom I never knew, I was at first apt to beliere \nall the lies and slanders wherewith they loaded them ; \nbut when I heard my own father so reproached, and \nperceived that drunkards were the most forward in the \nreproach. I perceived that it was mere malice. For my \nfather never objected to common prayer or ceremonies, \nnor spoke against bishops, nor ever so much as prayed \nbut by a book or form, being unacquainted then with \nany that did otherwise. But only for reading Scripture \nwhen the rest were dancing on the Lord's day, and for \npraying by a form out of the end of the common \nprayer book, in his house, and for reproving drunkards \nand swearers, and for talking sometimes a few words \nof Scripture, and about the life to come, he was reviled \ncommonly by the name of Puritan. Precisian, and Hy- \npocrite ; and so were the godly ministers that lived in \nthe country near us, not only by our neighbors, but by \n\n* These profanations of the Lx>rd'«i dmv were authorised amd \n\nencouraged by the roval proclamatiou. called the Book of \nSports, set forth A. D. lolS.— See Life of Bishop HaU, p. 36. \n\n\n\nhllh OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n11 \n\n\n\nthe common talk of the multitude all about us. By this \nobservation I was fully convinced that godly people \nwere the best; and those that despised them, and lived \nin sin and pleasure, were a malignant, unhappy sort of \npeople ; and ttiis kept me out of their company, except \nnow and then, when the love of sports and play en- \nticed me.\" \n\nWhen about fifteen years of age, \" it pleased God,\" \nhe writes, of his wonderful mercy, to open my eyes \nwith a clearer insight into tlie concerns and case of my \nown soul, and to touch my heart with a livelier feel- \ning of things spiritual than ever I had. foiind before.\" \nWhile under this concern, a poor man in the town \nlent his father an old torn book, entitled \"Bunny's \nResolutions.\" \" In reading this book,\" he observes, \n\" it pleased God to awaken my soul, and show me the \nfolly of sinning, and the misery of the wicked, and the \ninexpressible weight of things eternal, aiid the neces- \nsity of resolving on a holy Vile, hiore than \"I was ever \nacquainted with before. The same things which I \nknew before, came now in another manner, with light, \nand sense, and seriousness to my iieart.\" \n\n\" Yet, whether sincere con version began now, or be- \nfore, or after, I was never able to this day to know ; for \nI had before had some love to the things and people \nthat were good, and a restraint from sins, except those \nforemeutioned ; and so much \"from iriost of those, that \nI seldom committed them, and when I did, it was with \ngreat reluctance. And, both now and formerly, I knew \nthat Christ was the only mediator by whom we must \nhave pardon,' justification, and life; but I liad little \nlively sense of the love of God in Ciirist to tiie world \nor me, or of my special need of him !\" \n, \" About this time it pleased God that a poor pedlar \n\n\n\n12 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncame to the door with ballads and some good books, \nand my father bought of him Dr. Sibbs' 'Bruised Reed.' \nThis, also, I read, and found it suited to my taste, and \nseasonably sent me ; which opened more the love of \nGod to me, and gave me a livelier apprehension of the \ninysiery of redemption, and of iny obligations to Jesus \nChrist.-' \n\n'* After this, we had a servant who had a little piece \nof Mr. Perkins' works, * Of Repentance,' and the \n'Art of living and dying well,' and the ' Government \nof the Tongue;' and the reading of that did further \ninform me, and confirm me. And thus, without any \nvwans but books, was God pleased to resolve me for \nhimself.\" \n\nVarious are the means by wliich God awakens the \nsoul to a sense of its danger, and leads it to the know- \nledge and enjoyment of himself. The pulpit and the \nschool, conversation and reading, correspondence and \nlid vice, have bepn employed as instruments in the \nhands of the Eternal Spirit in etfecting the conversion \nof souls. To preaching, as the express appointment of \nGod, must be ascribed the highest place ; but inferior \nonly to it is the instrumentality of religious books. \nIn places where the preaching of the Gospel is un- \nknown or unattended, tiie distribution of such books \nis of the utmost importance. To such bowks Baxter \nwas greatly indebted for his conversion : and having \nderived so much benefit from this means, he ever after \nemployed it extensively among his friends, his flock, \n' and all to whom his influence would reach. The facili- \nties afforded, in the present day, for the dissemination of \nreligious knowledge are truly astonishing ; and among \nothers, the efforts of Religious Tract Societies, with \ntheir millions of publications, should not be overlooked. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n13 \n\n\n\nMany will arise in the last day, and acknowledge that \ntheir conversion was effected by means of these publi- \ncations. Nor is it the least advantage of these institu- \ntions, that they afford an opportunity to persons in the \nhumblest circumstances to be instrumental in doing \ngood to their fellow-creatures. They can give a Tract, \nthough they cannot deliver a discourse ; they can send \na Tract wliere they cannot visit in person ; they can \ncirculate books where they cannot engage in religious \nconversation. In the formation of Baxter's early reli- \ngious opinions and character, we see the instrumen- \ntality of a laborer, a pedlar, and a servant employed. \nThe sovereignty of God is clearly seen in the agents \nand means of salvation. \" His wisdom is unsearch- \nable, and his ways are past finding out.\" \" To God, \nonly wise, be all the glory.\" \n\nBaxter's early education was greatly neglected. His \nprofessed teachers were either incompetent to their \ntask, or suffered him to be occupied rather as he chose \nthan according to any regular plan. Notwithstanding \nthis neglect and irregularity, he made considerable \nprogress. He rose superior *.o every ditTiculty, and in \ndue time became qualified to enter the university. He \nwas persuaded, however, not to enter college, but to \npursue his studies under the direction of Mr. Wick- \nstead, chaplain to the council at Ludlow Castle. Being \nhis only pupil, it was expected that, through the un- \ndivided attention of his tutor, his proficiency would \nbe greater than either at Cambridge or Oxford. The \npreceptor became much attached to the pupil ; but \nbeing in earnest quest of place and preferment, he \nneglected his charge. He allowed him \" books and \ntime enough,\" but never seriously attempted to in- \nstruct and improve his mind. Nor was this the only \n\nL. B. 2 \n\n\n\n14 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF DAXTER. \n\n\n\ndisadvantage attending liis residence at Ludlow, for \nlie was thrown into gay and fasliioiiable society, and \nwas exposed to tiie various temptations incident to \nsucli a situation. His religious principles were in dan- \nger of being corrupted or destroyed by tiie practice of \ngambling; but he was enabled, by the grace of (lod, \nlo escape tiie snaze, and to resist all subsequent at- \ntempts to lead him astray. In this situation he formed \nan iiitimacy witli a young man of professed piety, but \nwho, at length, by the seductive influence of liquor, \nbecame an apostate. At this period, however, he in- \nt^.inicled young Baxter '* in the way of God more per- \nfectly ;\" prayed with him, exhorted and encouraged \nliim in Ills religious course, and thus became of essen- \ntial service lo his young friend. Baxter remained with \nhis tutor about a year and a half, and then returned \nhome. At the request of lord Newport, he look the \ncharge of the grammHr scho(d at Wroxeler for a short \ntime, as the master wr.s in a dying state. On his death, \nBaxter left this charge, and pursued his studies and \nreligious inquiries under the direction of the venerable \nMr. Garbett, a minister of Wroxeter. \n\nThe health of Baxter was in a precarious slate, and, \nin the prospect of eternity, lie became more solicito.rs \nto improve ids remaining days in the worship^ and \nways, and service of God. He says : \n\nHeing in expectation of death, by a violent cough, \nwith spitting of blood, &c. of two years continuance, \nF'ipposed to be a consumption, I was awakened to be \nmore solicitous about my soul's everlasting state ; and \n1 came so short of that sense and seriousness whicli a \nmatter of such hifinite weight required, that I was ma- \nny years in doubt of my sincerity, and thought I had \nno spiritual life at al!. I wondered at the seitdeless \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n15 \n\n\n\n• \n\nhardness of my heart, that I could think and talk of \nsin and hell, and Christ and grace, of God and heaven \nwith no more feeling. 1 cried from day lo day to God \nfor grace agains; this senseless deadness. I called my- \nself the most hard-hearted sinner, lliat coiild feel no- \nthing of ail that I knew and talked of. I was not then \nsensible of the incomparable excellence of holy love \nand delight in God, nor much employed in thanksgiv- \ning and praise ; but all my groans were for more con- \ntrition and a broken heart, and I prayed n:iost for tears \nand tenderness. \n\n\" Thus was I long kept with the calls of approach- \ning death at one ear, and the questionings of a doubt- \nful conscience at the other ; and since then J have \nfound that this method of God's was very wise, and \nno other was so likely to have tended to my good. \nThese bene.^ts of it I sensibly perceived. \n\n\" 1. It made me vile and loathsome to myself, and \nmade pride one of the most hateful sins in the world \nto me. I thought of myself as I now think of a detest \nable sinner, and my enemy: that is, with a love of be- \nnevolence, wishing them well, but with little love of \ncomplacency at all ; and the long continuance of it \ntended the more effectually to a habit. \n\n\"2. It much restrained me from that sportful levity \nand vanity to which my nature and youthfulness much \ninclined n»e, and caused me to meet temptatiiins to sen- \nsuality with the greatest fear, and made them less ef- \nfectual against me. \n\n\"3. It made the doctrine of redemption the more \nsavory to me, and my thoughts of Christ more serious \nand clear. 1 remember, in the begitining, how benefi- \ncial lo me were Mr. Perkins' short treatise of the \n'Right Knowledge of Christ crucified,' and his 'Ex- \n\n\n\n16 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nposition of the Creed,' because they taught me howlo \nlive by faith on Christ. \n\n\" 4. It made the world seem to me as a carcass that \nhad neither life nor loveliness, and it destroyed that am- \nbitious desire after literary fame which was the sin of \nmy childhood. I had a desire before to have attained \nthe highest academical degrees and reputation of learn- \ning, and to have chosen out my studies accordingly ; \nbut sickness, and solicitousness for my doubting soul, \nshamed away all these thoughts as fooleries and chil- \ndren's plays. \n\n\" 5. It set me upon that method of my studies, of \nwhich, since then, I have found the benefit, though at \nthe time I was not satisfied with myself. It caused me \nfirst to seek God's kingdom and his righteousness, and \nmost to mind the one thing needful ; and to determine \nfirst on my ultimate end, by which I was engaged to \nchoose out and prosecute all other studies but as meant \nto that end. Therefore divinity not only shared with \nthe rest of my studies, but always had the first and \nchief place. And it caused me to study a practical di- \nvinity first, in the most practical books, in a practical \norder ; doing all purposely for the informing and re- \nforming of my own soul.\" \n\n\" And as for those doubts of my own salvation, which \nexercised me many years, the chief causes of them \nwere these : \n\n\" 1. Because I could not distinctly trace the work- \nings of the Spirit upon my heart, in that method which \n< Mr. Bolton, Mr. Hooker, Mr. Rogers, and other di- \nvines describe; nor knew the time of my conversion, \nbeing wrought on by the foremenlioned degrees. But, \nsince then, I understood that the soul is in too dark \nand passionate a plight at first to be able to keep an \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n17 \n\n\n\nexact account of tlie order of its own operations; and \nthat preparatory grace, being sometimes longer and \nsometimes shorter, and the first degree of special grace \nbeing usually very small, it is not to be expected that \nmany will be able to give a true account of the lime \nwhen special grace began. \n\n\" 2. My second doubt was as aforesaid, because of \nthe hardness of my heart, or want ofsuch lively appre- \nhensions of things spiritual as I had about things cor- \nporeal. And though I still groan under this as my \nsin and want, yet I now perceive that a soul in flesh \nworks so much after the manner of the flesh, that it \nmuch desires sensible apprehensions; but things spi- \nritual and distant are not so apt to excite emotion and \nstir the passions. \n\n\" 3. My next doubt was lest education and fear had \ndone all that ever was done upon my soul, and regen- \neration and love were yet to be sought ; because 1 had \nfound conviction from my childliood, and found more \nfear than love in all my duties and restraints. \n\n\" But I afterwards perceived that education is an or- \ndinary way for the conveyance of God's grace, and \nought no more to be set in opposition to the Spirit, than \nthe preaching of the word; and that it was the great \nmercy of God to begin with me so soon, and to prevent \nsuch sins as else might have been my shame and sor \nrow while I lived. And I understood, that, thougli \nfoar without love be not a state of saving grace, and \ngreater love to the world than to God be not consistent \nwith sincerity, yet a little predominant love, prevail- \ning against worldly love, conjoined with a far greatei \nmeasure of fear, may be a state of special grace. And \nI found that my hearty love of the word of God» and \nof the servants of God, and my desires to be more ho- \n\n\n\n18 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTBR. \n\n\n\nly, and especially the hatred of my heart for loving God \nno more, and my wish to love him, and be pleasing to \nhim, were not without some true love to himself, \nthough it appeared more sensibly afterwards. \n\n\" 4. Another of my doubts was, because my grief \nand humiliation were no greater, and because I could \nweep no more for this. \n\n\" But I understood, at last, that God breaks not all \nmen's hearts alike, and that the gradual proceedings \nof his grace might be one cause, and my nature, not \napt to weep for other things, another ; and that the \nchange of our heart from sin to God is true repent- \nance ;(Snd a loathing of ourselves is true humiliation; \nand that he that had rather leave his sin, than have \nleave to keep it, and had rather be the most holy, than \nhave leave to be unholy or less holy, is neither with- \nout true repentance nor the love of God. \n\n\" 5. Another of my doubts was, because I had, after \nmy change, committed some sins deliberately and \nknowingly. And, be they ever so small, I thought, he \nthat could sin upon knowledge and deliberation, had \nno true grace ; and that, if I had but had as strong \ntemptations to fornication, drunkenness, fraud, or other \nmore heinous sins, I might also have committed them. \nAnd if these proved that I had then no saving grace, \nafter all that I had felt, I thought it unlikely that ever \nI should have any.\" \n\nThe means by which God was pleased to give me \nsome peace and comfort were — \n\n1. The reading of many consolatory books. \n\n\" 2. The observation of the condition of other men. \nWhen I heard many make the very same complaints \nthat. I did, who were people of whom I had the best \nesteem for the uprightness and holiness of ibeir lives. \n\n\n\nLIVE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n19 \n\n\n\nit much abated my fears and troubles. And, in par- \nticular, it much comforted me to read him whom 1 \nloved as one of the holiest of all the martyrs, John \nBradford, subscribing himself so often, ' The hard- \nhearted sinner,' and ' The miserable hard-hearted sin- \nner,' even as I was used to do myself. \n\n\"3. And it much increased my peace, when God's \nprovidence called me to the comfortinj^of many others \nthat had the same complaints. While I answered their \ndoubts, I answered my own ; and the charity which I \nwas constrained to exercise for them, redounded to \nmyself, and insensibly abated my fears, and procured \nme an increase of quietness of mind. \n\nAnd yet, after ail, I was glad of probabilities in- \nstead of full undoubted certainties: and to this very \nday, though I have no such degree of doubtfulness as \nis any great trouble to my soul, or procures any great \ndisquieting fears, yet I cannot say that I have such a \ncertainty of my own sincerity in grace, as excludes all \ndoubts and fears of the contrary.\" \n\nBaxter's old preceptor induced him for a season to \nlay aside all thoughts of the ministry, and to become \nan attendant at court. He resided for a month at \nWhitehall, but became so disgusted with the scenes \nand practices of high life, that his conscience would \nnot allow his longer continuance from home. He says: \n\" I had, quickly, enough of the court ; when I saw a \nstage-play, instead of a sermon, on the Lord's day in \nthe afternoon, and saw what course was there in fash- \nion, and heard little preaching but M'hat was, in some \npart, against the puritans, I was glad to be gone. At \nthe same time, it pleased God, my mother fell sick, and \ndesired my return ; and so I resolved to bid farewell \nto those kinds of employments and expectations.\" \n\n\n\n20 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nWhen 1:8 was going home into the country, about \nChristmas day, A. D. 1G34, he relates that, on meeting \na loaded wagon, his horse fell on the side of a bank, \nby which lie was ilirowu before the wheel, which he \nsays \" had gone over me, but that, as it pleased God, \nthe horses suddenly stopped, without any discernable \ncause, till I was recovered ; which commanded me to \nobserve the mercy of my Protector.\" \n\nOn his rtlurn he found his mother extremely ill. \nShe lingered till May, and tlien expired. \n\nBaxter's own health was in a very precarious stale; \nbut he was anxiously desirous of doing good during \nthe short time which he supposed would be allotted to \nhim on earth. He states : \n\n\" My own soul benig under serious apprehensions \nof another world. I was exceedingly desirous to com- \nmunicate those apprehensions to ignorant, presump- \ntuous, careless sinners. But I was in a very great per- \nplexity between my encouragements and my disco'i- \nrageraents. I was conscious of my personal insuffi- \nciency, lor want of that measure of learning and expe- \nrience which so great and high a work required. I \nhnew that the want of academical lionors and degree.^ \n\\7as likely to make me ('onlemptil)le with the most, and \nconseqtiently hinder the success of my endeavors. \nBut yet, expecting to be so quickly in another world, the \ngreat concerns of miserable souls prevailed with me \nagainst all these impediments; and being conscious of \na thirsty desire of men's conversion and salvation, and \nof some competent persuading faculty of expression \n•vhlch fervent affections miglit help to actuate, I re- \nolved, that if one or two souls only might be won to \nO-jd, it wonM recompense all the dishonor I might re- \nceive from men I*' \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n21 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER 11. \n\nHI3 ORDINATION, AND FIRST PUBLIC ENGAGEMENTS. \n\nBaxter was induced, by the advice of his friend \nBerry, to accept the head mastership of a newly en- \ndowed grammar school at Dudley, Worcestershire. \nHe was the more ready to accept this situation, as it \nwould afford him an opportunity of preaching in that \nunenlightened neighborhood. He applied for ordina- \ntion to the Bishop of Winchester, which, after exami- \nnation and subscription, was duly administered. He, \nmoreover, received the bishop's license to teach in tlie \nschool at Dudley. In a subsequent period of his life, \nhe dedicated his treatise on \" Self denial\" to his friend \nColonel Berry, whose character had undergone a con- \nsiderable change. The following passage from his \ndedicatory letter describes his views and feelings oil \nentering the ministry, and his obligation to his friend \nand adviser. \"You brought me into the ministry. I \nam confident you know to what ends, and with what \nintentions I desired it. I was then very ignorant, \nyoung, and raw. Though my weakness be yet such as \nI must lament, I must say, to tlie praise of the great \nShepherd of the flock, that he hath, since then, ofTord \nme precious opportunities, much assistance, and as \nmuch encouragement as to any man that I know alive. \nYou know my education and initial weakness were \nsuch as forbid me to glory in the flesh ; but I will not \nrob God of his glory to avoid the appearance of osten- \ntation, lest I be proud of seeming not to be proud. \nI doubt not but many thousand souls will thank you, \n\n\n\n22 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nwhen they have read that you were the man that led \nme into the niinisiry.\"' \n\n\" Being settled in the new school at Dudley, I there \npreached my first public sermon in tlie upper parish \nchurch, and afterwards preached in the villaires about ; \nand there had occasion to enter afresh upon the study \nof Coii/ornUi'u for there were many private Christians \nthereabouts that were non-conformists, and one in the \nhouse with me. And that excellent man, Mr. William \nFenner, had lately lived two miles off, at Sedgley, who, \nby defending conformity, and honoring it by a won- \nderfully powerful and successful way of preaching, \nconference, and holy living, had stirred up the non- \nconformists the m-ire to a vehement pleading of their \ncause. And though they were there generally godly \nhonest people, yet they were smartly censorious, and \nmade conformity no small fault. And they lent me \nmanuscripts and books which I never saw before ; \nwhereupon I thought it my duty to set upon a serious \nimpartial trial of the v. hole cause. \n\n''In the town of Dudley I lived in much comfort, \namongst a poor tractable people, lateh' noted for drun- \nkenness, but commonly more ready to hear God's word \nwith submission and reformation than most places \nwhere I have been, so that having, since the wars, set \nup a monthly Ipcture there, the church v/as usually \nfts much crowded witliin, and at the windows, as ever \nI saw any London congregation ; partly through the \ngreat willingness of the people, and partly by the ex- \nceeding populousness of the country, where the woods \nand commons are planted with narlers, scythe-smiths, \nand other iron laborers, like a continued village. \n\n\n\n• To the eaactmenls of tbe established cUurcU. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n23 \n\n\n\n\" When I had been but three quarters of a year at \nDudley, I was, by God':? very gracious providence, \ninvited to Bridgnorth, the second town of Siiropshire, to \npreach there, as assistant to the worthy pastor of that \nplace. As soon as I heard tlie place described, I judged \nit was the fittest for me; for there was just such em- \nployment as I desired and could submit to without vi- \nolating conscience, and some probability of peace and \nquietness. \n\n\" But the people proved a very ignorant, dead-heart- \ned people, the town consisting tcKj much of inns and \nale-houses, and having no general trade to employ the \ninhabitants, which is the undoing of many large towns. \nSo that though, through the greatniercyof God.my first \nlabors were not without success in the conversion of \nsome ignorant and careless sinners to him, and were \nover-valued by those that were already regardful of \nthe concerns of their souls, yet they were not so suc- \ncessful as they proved afterv.'ards in other places. \nThough I was in the fervor of my affections, and ne- \nver any where preached with more vehement desires \nof men's conversion, yet, with the generality, applause \nof the preacher was most of the success of the sermon \nWhich I could hear of; and their tippling, and iil-com- \npany, and dead-heartedness quickly drowned all.\" \n\nThough a friend to episcopacy, yet the omission of \nsome required ceremonies, together with his refusal to \ntake the \" et cetera\" oath, (binding him never to give \nhis consent toalter the government of the church in par- \nticulars not distinctly defined,) had nearly occasioned \nhis expulsion from the ministry, and the loss of his \nliberty, if not, in his weak and infirm state of health, \nof life itself. Indeed, some of his accusers threatened \nhrm with \" hanging\" if he did not comply. God, how- \n\n\n\n24 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTErw. \n\n\n\never, in whose hands are the hearts of all men, changed \nthe purposes and restrained the malice of his adver- \nsaries. He continued to preach at Bridgnorth a year \nand three-quarters, in the uninterrupted enjoyment of \nliberty, which, says he, \" I took to be a very great mer- \ncy to me iu these troublesome times,\" \n\nHe says, Tlie long parliament, among other parta \nof their reformation, resolved to reform the corrupted \nclergy, and appointed a committee to receive petitions \nand complaints against them ; which was ho sooner \nunderstood, but multitudes in all countries came up \nwith petitions against their mmisters.-' \n\n\" Among all these complainers, the town of Kidder- \nminister, in Worcestershire, drew up a petition against \ntheir minister. The vicar of the place they represented \nas utterly insufficient for the ministry ; presented by a \npapist; unlearned; preaching but once a quarter, and \nthat so feebly as exposed him to laughter, and showed \nthat he understood not the essential articles of Chris- \ntianity; as one thai frequented ale houses ; had some- \ntimes been drunk, &c. \n\n\" The vicar, knowing his insufficiency, and hearing \nhow two others in this case had fared, desired to com- \npound the business with them, which was soon accom- \nplished. Hereupon they invited me to them from \nBridgnorth. The bailiff of the town, and all the feof- \nfees, desired me to preach with them, in order to a full \ndetermination. My mind was much to the place, as \nsoon as it was described to me, because it was a full \ncongregation, with a most convenient temple; they \nwere an ignorant, rude, and revelling people for the \nmost part, who had need of preaching; and yet had \namong ihern a small crnnpany of converts, humble^ \ngodly, and of good conversation, and not much hated \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n2a \n\n\n\nby the rest, and therefore the fitter to assist tneir teach \ner: but above all, because they had hardly ever had \nany lively, serious preaching among them. For Bridg- \nnorth had made me resolve that I would never more \ngo among a people that had been liardened in unpro- \nfitableness under an awakening ministry ; but either to \nsuch as never liad any convincing preacher, or to such \nas had profited by him. As soon as I came to Kidder- \nminster, and had preached there one day, I was cho- \nsen, without opposition ; for though fourteen only had \nthe power of choosing, they desired to please the rest. \nAnd thus I was brought, by the gracious providence \nof God, to that place which had the chief of my labors, \nand yielded me the greatest fruits. And I noted the \nmercy of God in this, that I never went to any place in \nmy life, among all my changes, which I had before \ndesigned, or thought of, much less sought, but only \nlo those that I never thought of, till the sudden invita- \ntion surprised me.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTERIII. \n\nHIS LABORS, TRIALS, AND SUCCESS AT KIDDCRMINSTER. \n\nTo this importarPE and interesting scene of labor \nBaxter was invited on the 9th of March, 1640. His le- \ngal appointment, afteriaboring among the people dur- \nin;r the interval, is dated April 5, 1641. \n\nFor this station of public and extensive Usefulness, \nlie had been prepared by various painful and alarming \naiflictions. He says: \"All this forertieutloned timeof \n\n\n\n26' \n\n\n\nLIFE OF CJLXTEK. \n\n\n\nmyi \n\nDcnea, wiiicii woeao-^reatas anda ok Irre wmA\\ \nm coBtiaval ezpedatioB of deaifa, aupi w wiag aufl tkas \nI had Boi long to live And tkb I feanl, liiraagh aU \nm J iilie, to be an w^MaMc menry to me : iisr \n\n1. UgieatljwSeMd laiwptalMiaa \nItkeptflKmemftcMbBBiitofftlievorid. \n\n3. U tan^ht mmr UsUt to eatocm t»e ; ao Ikal, if \nany of it passed away la jdlearaa or aapiaiii \n\nI wmsL say, tollie praiae of my \nlint titoe kas atiU aeeawd to aae \nthan goU, or aay caitUy gan, \nnot ben diniiwd, mar faave I \nany of the aioa vUdi go onder the ■atoeoff \n\n\n\n\n\n«4.It \naadafiitie \n\niBftocn. \n\n^Tbeaej with the rest whidi I \nwhen I apakeof ray infinnilieit weie the I \nGodaflbidBdraohy il flnii I hnnddy bleat his gia- \n\ntranedrae spin Iheathoolof af- \nrae the craaa of Chrat j \nI ai^be laOer, aa Lntherspc \n\nHia ipiritnl oonflki^to^m \nractei^ and tended, evanMlty, by the gnee of God, \nloqnfifyhim tobe an inattnetor af iHhf n , both as a \nwriter. Qe says: \n-Atone tioK. above aUthe \n\na \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n27 \n\n\n\npresent expectation of my change, and going for com- \nfort to the promises, as I was used, the tempter strong- \nly assaulted my faith, and would have drawn me to- \nwards infidelity itself. Till I was ready to enter into \nthe ministry, all my troubles had been raised by the \nhardness of my heart and the doublings of my own \nsincerity ; but now all these began to vanish, and never \nmuch returned to this day. And, instead of these, I \nwas now assaulted with more pernicious temptations; \nespecially to question the certain truth of the sacred \nScriptures ; and also the life to come, and the immor- \ntality of the soul. And these temptations assaulted me, \nnot as they do the melancholy, with horrid vexing im- \nportunity ; but, by pretence of sober reason, they would \nhave drawn me to a settled doubting of Christianity. \n\n\" And here I found my own miscarriage and the \ngreat mercy of God. My miscarriage, in that I had so \nlong neglected the well settlmg of the foundations oa \nwhich I rested, while 1 had bestowed so much time \nin the superstructure and the applicalory part. For, \nnot daring to question the truth of the Scriptures and \nihe life to come, 1 had either taken it for a certainty \nupon trust, or taken up with common reasons of it, \nwhich I had never well considered, digested, or made \nmy own ; insomuch, that when this temptation came, \nit seemed at first to answer and enervate all the for- \nmer reasons of my feeble faith, whicii made me take \nthe Scriptures for the word of God ; and it set before me \nsuch mountains of difficulty in the incarnation, the \nperson of Christ, his undertaking and performance, \nwith the scripture chronology, histories, style, &c. as \nhad overwhelmed me, if God had not been my strength. \nAnd here I saw much of the mercy of God, that he let \nnot out these terrible and dangerous temptations upon \n\n\n\n28 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nme while I was weak and in the infancy of my faith ; \nfor then I had never been able to withstand them. But \nfaith is like a tree whose top is small while the root is \nyoung and shallow; and therefore, as then it has but \nsmall rooting, so it is not liable to the shaking winds \nand tempests as the large and high-grown trees are; but, \nas the top rises higher, so the root at once grows \ngreater and deeper fixed, to cause it to endure its \ngreater assaults. \n\n\"Though formerly I was wont, when any such \ntemptation came, to cast it aside, as fitter to be abhor- \nred than considered, yet now this would not give me \nsatisfaction; but I was disposed to dig to the very \nfoundations, and seriously to examine the reasons of \nChristianity, and to give a hearing to all that could be \nsaid against it, that so my faith might be indeed my \nown. And at last I found that ' Nothing is so firmly \nbelieved as that which has been some time doubted.' \n\n\" In the storm of this temptation, I questioned awhile \nwhether I were indeed a Christian or an infidel, and \nv/hether faith could consist with such doubts as I was \nconscious of. For I had read, in the works of papists \nand protestants, that faith had certainty, and was more \nthan an opinion ; and that, if a man should live a god- \nly life, from the bare apprehensions of tlie probability \nof the truth of Scripture and the life to come, it would \n\\ not save him, as being no true godliness or faith. But \nmy judgment closed with the reason of Dr. Jackson's \ndetermination of this case, which supported me much ; \nthat as in the very assenting act of faith there may be \nsuch weakness as may make us cry—' Lord, increase \nour faith: we believe; Lord, help our belief;' so, \nwhen faith and unbelief are in their conflict, it is the \neffects which must show us which of them is victo- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n29 \n\n\n\nrious. And that he that has so much faith as will cause \nhim to deny himself, take up his cross, and forsake all \nthe profits, honors, and pleasures of this world, for \nthe sake of Christ, the love of God, and the hope of \nglory, has a saving faith, how weak soever. For God \ncannot condemn the soul tliat truly loves and seeks \nhim ; and those that Christ brings to persevere in the \nlove of God, he brings to salvation. And there were \ndivers things that, in this assault, proved great assist- \nances to my faith.\" \n\n\"From this assault I was forced to take notice that \nour belief of the truth of the word of God, and the life \nto come, is the spring of all grace; and with which it \nrises or falls, flourislies or decays, is actuated or stands \nstill: and that there is more of this secret unbelief at \nthe root than most of us are aware of; and that our \nlove of the world, our boldness in sin, our neglect of \nduty, are caused hence. I observed easily in myself, \nthat if at any time Satan, more than at other times, \nweakened my belief of Scripture and the life to come, \nmy zeal in every religious duty abated with it, and I \ngrew more indifferent in religion than before. 1 was \nmore inclined to conformity in those points which I \nhad taken to be sinful, and was ready to think. Why \nshould I be singular, and offend the bishops and other \nsuperiors, and make myself contemptible in the world, \nand expose myself to censures, scorns and sufferings, \nand all for such little things as these, when the foun- \ndations themselves have such great difficulties as I am \nunable to overcome? But when faith revived, then \nnone of tlie parts or concerns of religion seemed small ; \nand then man seemed nothing, and the world a shadow, \nand God was all. \n\n\"In the beginning, I doubted not of the truth of the 1 \n\nL. B. ^* ' \n\n\n\n30 \n\n\n\nLIIE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nHoly Scriptures, or of the life to c(Aiie, because I saw \nnot the difficulties which might cause doubting. After \nthat, I saw tiiein, and I doubted, because I saw not \nthat which siioiild satisfy tiie miiid against them. \nSince tiiat, having segji both dijficuiiies and evidences^ \nthough I am not so unmolested as at the first, yet is \nn^y faith, I hope, much stronger, and far better able \nto repel the temptations of Satan, and the sophisms of \ninfidels, than before. ^But yet it is my daily prayer that \nGod would increase my faith, and give my soul a clear \nsight of the evidences of his truth, and of himself, and \nof the invisible world.*' ) \n\nNor was Baxter exempt from slander: his moral \ncharacter was assailed by base and unfounded calum- \nnies. These he was enabled successfully to refute. His \nchief calumniator was obliged to confess that the \ncharges were fabrications, and to beg his forgiveness^ \nwhich was freely given. \n\nThe trials of ministers are frequent!)- of a painful \ncharacter, but, like those of private Christians, they \nwork together for good.*' They are over-ruled, not \nonly for their personal benefit, but for the edification \nof their fiOcks. \" If their sufferings abound, so do their \nconsolations also,-' and that in order to their being the \ncomforters of others. 2 Cor. 1 : 1-5. \n\nBaxter entered on his work with spirit and zeal ; nor \nwas he suffered to labor long without witnessing bless- \ned results in the conversion of sinners to God. At first \nhe used to register the names, characters, »S:c. of his \nconverts ; but they became, at length, so numerous, that \nhe discontinued the practice. \n\nHe continued successfully discharging his ministe- \nrial and pastoral labors for nearly two years, when the \ncivil wars (growinsr out of a run«ure bct«'f*rn Ih'- .V'.r.C \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n31 \n\n\n\nand his parliament) threw the whole country into con- \nfusion. His situation, though he was no partizan, was \ncritical and dangerous. He was at length advised by \nhis friends to retire from Kiddermmster till public af- \nfairs should assume a more peaceable aspect. The im- \nmediate occasion of his leaving, he thus describes : \n\n\" About that time the parliament sent down an or- \nder for the demolishing of all statues and images of \nany of the three persons in the blessed Trinity, or of \nthe virgin Mary, which should be found in churches, \nor on the crosses in churchyards. My judgment was \nfor the obeying of this order, thinking it came from \njust authority; but I meddled not in it, but left the \nchurchwarden to do what he thought good. The \nchurchwarden, an lionest, sober, quiet man, seeing a \ncrucifix upon the cross in the churchyard, set up a \nladder to have reached it, but it proved too short: \nwhilst he was gone to seek another, a crew of the \ndrunken riotous party of the town, poor journeymen \nand servants, took the alarm, and ran together with \n■weapons to defend the crucifix and the church images, \nof which there were many remaining since the time of \npopery. The report v.'as among them that I was the ac- \ntor, and it was me they sought; but I was walking al- \nmost a mile out of town, or else, I suppose, I had there \nended my days. When they missed me and the church- \nwarden both, they went raving about the streets to seek \nus. Two neighbors that dwelt in other parishes, hearing \nthat they sought my life, ran in among them to see \nwhether I were there, and they knocked them both \ndown in the streets; and both of them are since dead, i \nand, I think, never perfectly recovered of the wounds \nthen re(;eived. When they had foamed about half an \nhour, and met with none of u., I came in fron' mv \n\n\n\n32 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nwalk, and hearing the people cursing at me in their \ndoors, I wondered what the matter was, but quickly \nfound how fairly I had escaped. The next Lord's day \nI dealt plainly with them, and laid open to them the \nquality of that action, and told them, seeing they so \nrequited me as to seek my blood, I was willing to \nleave them, and save them from that guilt. But the \npoor sots were so amazed and ashamed that tiiey took \non sorrily, and were reluctant to part with me. \n\n\"About this time the king's declarations were read \nin our market-place, and the Reader, a violent country \ngentleman, seeing me pass the streets, slopped, and \nsaid, ' There goes a traitor,' without ever givmg a syl- \nlable of reason for it. \n\nAnd the commission of array was set afoot, for \nthe parliament meddled not with the militia of that \ncounty. Lord Howard, their lieutenant, not appearing. \nThen the rage of the rioters grew greater than before. • \nAnd in preparation for the war, they had got tli« word \namong them — 'Down with the roundheads;' insomuch \nthat if a stranger passed in many places, that had short \nhair and a civil habit, the rabble presently cried, ' Down \nwith the roundheads;' and some they knocked down \nin the open streets. \n\n\" In this fury of the rabble I was advised to with- \ndraw awhile from home; whereupon I went to Glou- \ncester. As I passed but through a corner of the sub- \nurbs of Worcester, they that knew me not cried, ' Down \nwith the roundheads;' and I was glad to spur on and \nbegone. But when I came to Gloucester, among stran- \ngers also that had never known me, I found a civil, \ncourteous, and religious people, as different from Wor- \ncester as if they had lived under another government.\" \n\n\" When 1 had been at Gloucester a month, my neigh- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n33 \n\n\n\nbors of Kidderminster came for me home, and told me \nthat if I stayed any longer the people Avonld interpret \nit either that I was afraid, upon some guilt, or that I \nAvas against the king; so I bid my host, Mr. Darney, \nthe town-clerk, and my friends, farewell* and never \nwent to Gloucester more. \n\n\" For myself, I knew not what course to take. To \nlive at home I was uneasy; but especially now, when \nsoldiers, on one side or other, would be frequently \namong us, and we must be still at the mercy of every \nfurious beast that would make a prey of us. I had \nneither money nor friends. I knew not who would \nreceive me in any place of safety ; nor had I any thing \nto satisfy them for my diet and entertainment. Here- \nupon I was persuaded, by one that was with me, to go \nto Coventry, where one of my old acquaintance was \nminister, Mr. Simon King, some time schoolmaster at \nBridgnorth. So thither I went, with a purpose to stay \nthere till one side or other had got the victory, and \nthe war was ended, and then to return home. \n\n\"Whilst I was thinking what course to take, the \ncommittee and governor of the city desired me that I \nwould stay with them, and lodge in the governor's \nhouse, and preach to the soldiers. The otfer suited \nwell with my necessities, but I resolved that I would \nnot be chaplain to the regiment, nor take a commis- \nsion ; but, if the mere preaching of a sermon once or \ntwice a week to the garrison would satisfy them, I \nwould accept of the offer, till I could go home again. \nHere I lived in the governor's house, and followed my \nstudies as quietly as in a time of peace, for about a \nyear, only preaching once a week to the soldiers, and \nonce on the Lord's day to the people, not taking from \nany of them a penny for either, save my diet only.\" \n\n\n\n34 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nThe war conliniied with unabated fury aiid severity. \nDuring his slay at Coventry lie was invited by Crom- \nwell to become chaplain to his troops which lay at \nCambridge. This invitation he declined ; but some time \nafter, on learning the stale of the army and the pros- \npects of usefulness among the soldiers, at the solicita- \ntion of Captain Evanson, he became chaplain to Colo- \nnel Whalley's regiment, and left his quarters at Coven- \nIrj', to the deep and universal regret of the residents in \nthe garrison. \n\nOn joming his regiment he writes: \n\n\"I set myself, from day to day, to find out the cor- \nruptions of the soldiers, and to adapt my discourses \nand conversation to their mistakes, both religious and \npolitical. My life among them was a daily contending \nagainst seducers, and gently arguing with the more \ntractable.\" \n\nHis \"efforts to do good\" were unremitting. His \ntime was occupied '* in preaching, conference, and dis- \nputing against confounding errors.\" and in directing \nand comforting believers under the difficulties and pe- \nrils of the times. His success, however, did not equal \nhis expectations: party spirit ran exceedingly high ; \nthe soldiers were divided in their religious opinions; \nthe camp afforded but few facilities for collecting any \nconsiderable numbers together, and besides, was con- \nstantly changing its position, according to the dirrc- \ntion of war. And probably his desire to reconcile their \nreligious differences, and to unite them under one re- \nligious discipline, led him more frequently to dispute \nthan to preach, to dwell more on the details and niinu- \ntiap of the Gospel than on its essential truths: to labor \nas though they were at peace and had time fur punc- \ntilios, rather than as being in a state of war, and in \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n35 \n\n\n\ndanger every hour of being hurried into eternity. \nThese, with other untoward circumstances, contribu- \nted to diminish the probability of success, but at the \nsame time to illustrate the zeal, the piety, and the per- \nseverance of the conscientious chaplain. He was never \nin any engagement, nor took part, personally, in any \ncontests, though present at some sieges. \n\nAfter the fatal battle of Worcester, with health en- \nfeebled by his excessive exertions in the army, he vi- \nsited his old flock at Kidderminster, and thence pro- \nceeded to London for medical advice. His physician \ndirected him to visit Tunbridge Weils, and try the \nefficacy of its waters. With this advice he complied. \nHis health was in consequence improved, and in due \ntime he returned to his quarters in Worcestershire, \nwhere the army s*ill lay. \n\nIn all his peregrinations with the army and other- \nwise, he preached in most of the churches in the towns \nthrough which he passed ; and no doubt can be enter- \ntained that his earnest, affectionate, and faithful preach- \ning was attended with important results. \n\nWhile staying at the house of Sir John Cook, Mel- \nborne, Derbyshire, he was seized with a violent bleed- \ning at the nose, whicli so reduced his slrengtli that \nhis case was considered almost hopeless. His counte- \nnance was so altered as scarcely to be recognized by \nhis most intimate friends. As soon as he could re- \nmove, he visited a friend in Leicestershire, where he \nremained three weeks in an exhausted state. In this \nstate he was invited by his friends Sir Thomas and Lady \nRous to take lodgings at their mansion. Thither he \nwas conveyed, and experienced the greatest kindness \nand attention. At the end of three months, having re- \ncovered his strength, he returned to Kiddermin?ter. \n\n\n\n3(5 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nDuring this period of sickness and retirement from \npublic labors; he was luixious to be useful, and to be \nrestored, if agreeable to the Divine will, that his use- \nfulness might be increased. He states concerning \nIjimself, \"Being conscious that my time had not been \nimproved to the service of God as I wished it had been, \nI put up man}'- an earnest prayer to God that he would \nrestore me, and use me more successfully in his work. \nAnd, blessed be that mercy which heard my groans in \nthe day of my distress, and granted my desires, and \nAvrought my deliverance, when men and means fail' \ned, and gave me opportunity to celebrate his praise,\" \n\nJt was during this afliiction that he wrote his cele- \nbrated work, \"the Saints' Everlasting Rest:\"* a work, \nthe usefulness of which no mortal can estimate. It was \na blessing to the age in which lie lived, and will con- \ntinue to be so to the remotest ages of time. Had he \nlived only to write this work, his name would have \nbeen held in \"everlasting remembrance.\" \n\nHis own account of the origin and progress of the \nwork is interesting. \"The second book which I wrote, \nand the tirst which I began, was that called 'The \nSaints' Everlasting Rest.' Whilst I was in health, I \nhad not the least thought of writing books, or of serv- \ning God in any more public way than preaching; but, \nwhen I was weakened w'ith great bleeding, and left \nsolitary in my chamber, at Sir John Cook's, in Derby- \nshire, without any acquaintance but my servant about \nme, and was sentenced to death by the physicians, I \nbeg^n to contemplate more seriously the everlasting \nrest which I apprehended myself to be just on the \nborders of. And that ray thoughts might not too \n\n* Published by the American Tract Society.. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n37 \n\n\n\nmuch scatter in my meditation, I began to write some- \nthing on that subject, intending but a quantity of a \nsermon or two, but being continued long in weakness, \nwhere I had no books, and no better employment, I \npursued it, till it was enlarged to the bulk in which \nit is published. The first three weeks I spent in it was \nat Mr. Nowel's, in Leicestershire ; a quarter of a year \nmore, at the seasons which so great weakness would \nallow, I bestowed on it at the house of Sir Thomas \nRous, in Worcestershire; and I finished it, shortly \nafter, at Kidderminster. The first and last parts were \nfirst done, being all that 1 intended for my own use ; \nand the second and third parts were written afterwards, \nbeyond my first intention. \n\nThis book it pleased God so far to bless to the profit \nof many, that it encouraged me to be guilty of all those \nwritings which afterwards followed. The marginal ci- \ntations I put in after I came home to my books ; but \nalmost all the book itself was written when I had no \nbook but a Bible and a concordance. And I found that \nthe transcript of the heart has the greatest force on the \nhearts of others. For the good that I have heard that \nmultitudes have received by that book, and the benefit \nwhich I have again received by their prayers, I here \n\nnumbly return my thanks to Him that compelled me \n\n0 write it.\" \n\nAnticipating that some objection might be made in \nrespect to its style, he says, in his dedication of the \nwork to the people of Kidderminster, \" It is no won- \nder, therefore, if I am too abrupt in the beginning, see- \ning I then intended but the length of a sermon or two. \nMuch less may you wonder if the whole is very im- \nperfect, seeing it was written, as it were, with one foot \nin the grave, by a man that was betwixt living and \n\nL. B 4 \n\n\n\n38 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ndead, that wanted strength of nature to quicken invert- \nlion or affection, and had no book but his Bible until \nthe chief part was finished, nor had any regard to hu- \nman ornaments. But, O how sweet is this providence \nnow to my review ! that so happily forced me to the \n\\vork of meditation, which I had formerly found so pro- \nfitable to my soul ! and showed me more mercy in de- \npriving me of other helps than I was aware of! and \nhas caused my thoughts to feed on this heavenly sub- \nject, which has more benefited me than all the studies \nof my life 1\" \n\nOn his recovery he received a pressing invitation to \nreturn to his old charge at Kidderminster, which he \ninstantly and cordially accepted. He was devotedly \nattached to his people, and considered himself bound \nto resist all attempts to procure his services in other \nplaces. He thus affectionately writes to \" his beloved \nfriends \" If either I or my labors have any public use \nor worth, it is wholly, though not only yours ; and I \nam convinced, by providence, that it is the will of God \nit should be so. This I clearly discerned on my first \ncoming to you, in my former abode with you, and in \nthe time of my forced absence from you. When I was \nseparated by the miseries of the late unhappy wars, I \ndurst not fix in any other congregation, but lived in a \nmilitary unpleasing state, lest I should forestall my re- \nturn to you, for whom I conceived myself reserved. \nThe offer of great worldly accommodations, with five \ntimes the means I receive with you, was no temptation \nto me once to question whether I should leave you \nYour free invitation of my return, your obedience to \nmy doctrine, the strong affection I have yet towards \nyou, above all people, and the general hearty return of \nlove whici. I find from you, do all persuade me that \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n39 \n\n\n\nI was sent into the world especially for the service of \nyour souls.\" \n\nHe resumed his labors under great bodily weakness, \n\" being seldom an hour free from pain.\" He was sub- \nject to repeated attacks, from which he recovered, ac- \ncording to his own account, chiefly through the inter- \ncessions and fervent prayers of. his friends. \" Many a \ntime have I been brought very low, and received the \nsentence of death in myself, when my poor, honest, \npraying neighbors have met, and, upon their fasting \nand earnest prayers, I have recovered. Once, when \nI had continued very feeble three weeks, and was un- \nable to go abroad, the very day that they prayed for \nme I recovered, and was able to preach on the follow- \ning Sabbath, and administered the Lord's supper; and \nwas better after it, it being the first time that ever I \nadministered it. And ever after that, whatever weak- \nness was upon me, when I had, after preaching, ad- \nministered that ordinance to many hundred people, I \nwas much revived and eased of my infirmities.\" \n\n\"Ohow often,\" he writes in his ' Dying Thoughts,' \n\" have I cried to Him, when men and means were no- \nthing, and when no help in second causes appeared ; \nand how often, and suddenly, and mercifully has he \ndelivered me ! What sudden ease, what removal of \nlong affliction have I had I Such extraordinary changes, \nbeyond my own and others' expectations, when many \nplain-hearted, upright Christians have, by fasting and \nprayer, sought God on my behalf, as have over and \nover convinced me of a special providence, and that \nGod is indeed a hearer of prayer. And wonders have \nI seen done for others also, upon such prayer, more \nthan for myself: yea, and wonders for the church, and \nfor public societies.\" \" Shall I therefore forget how \n\n\n\n40 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\noften he has heard prayers for me? and how wonder- \nfully he often has helped both rae and others; my \nfaith has been helped by such experiences, and shall I \nforget them, or question them without cause at last V- \n\nBaxter relates several extraordinary instances of an \nswers to prayer, in the recovery and preservation both \nof himself and friends. He was attentive in seeking \nsuch blessings, and in observing such circumstances ; \nand, as an old divine justly observes, \" they that watch \nprovidence shall never want a providence to watch.\" \nHaving now brought down Baxter's life to the period \nwhen he settled again amongst his old friends, and re- \nsumed his accustomed labors, it will be desirable to \n.ntroduce, in an abridged form, his own account of his \n\" employments, success, and advantages,\" during his \nfourteen years' continuance among them. \n\n1. Employments. \n\n\"I preached, before the wars, twice each Lord's \nday ; but, after the war, but once, and once every \nThursday, besides occasional sermons. Every Thurs- \nday evening, my neighbors that were most desirous, \nand had opportunity, met at my house, and there one \nof them repeated the sermon ; and afterwards they pro- \nposed what doubts any of them had about the sermon, \nor any other case of conscience, and I resolved their \ndoubts. And, last of all, I caused sometimes one, and \nsometimes another of them to pray, sometimes praying \nwith them myself. Once a week, also, some of the \nyoung who were not prepared to pray in so great an \nassembly, met among a few more privately, where \nthey spent three hours in prayer together. Every Sa- \nturday night they met at some of their houses to repeat \nthe sermon of the last Lord's day, and to pray and pre- \npare themselves for the following day. Once in a few \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n41 \n\n\n\nweeks we had a day of humiliation, on one occasion \nor other. Two days every week my assistant and ray- \nself took fourteen families between us for private ca- \ntechising and conference ; he going through the parish, \nand the town coming to me. I first heard them r?cite \nthe words of the catechism, and then examined them \nabout the sense, and lastly urged them, with all possi- \nble engaging reason and vehemence, to answerable af- \nfection and practice. If any of them were perplexed \nthrough ignorance or bashfulness, I forbore to press \nthem any farther to answers, but made them hearers, \nand either examined others, or turned all into instruc- \ntion and exhortation. But this, I have opened more \nfully in my '.Reformed^Pastoj;.' I spent about an hour \nwith a family, and admitted no others to be present, \nlest bashfulness should make it burdensome, or any \nshould talk of the weaknesses of others. So that all \nthe afternoons, on Mondays and Tuesdays, I spent \nin this, after I had begun it ; for it was many years be- \nfore I attempted it; and my assistant spent the morn- \nings of the same days in the same employment. Be- \nfore that, I only catechised them in the church, and ^ \nconferred with, now and then one occasionally. \n\n\" Besides all this, I was forced five or six years, by \nthe people's necessity, to practise physic. A common \npleurisy happening one year, and no physician being \nnear, I was forced to advise them, to save their lives ; \nand I could not afterwards avoid the importunit)'- of \nthe town and country round about. And because 1 \nnever once took a penny of any one, I was crowded \nwith patients, so that almost twenty would be at my \ndoor at once ; and though God, by more success than \nI expected, so long encouraged me, yet, at last, I could \nendure it no longer; partly because it hindered my \n\nL. B. 4* \n\n\n\n42 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTE2. \n\n\n\nOther studies, and partly because the very fear of mis- \ncarrying and doing any one harm, made it an intolera- \nble burden to me. So that, after some years' practice, \nI procured a godly diligent physician to come and live \nin twwn, and bound myself, by promise, to practise no \nmore, unless in consultation with him in case of any \nseeming necessity. And so with that answer I turned \nthem all off, and never meddled with it more.\" \n2. Success. \n\n\" I have mentioned my sweet and acceptable em- \nployment ; let me, to the praise of my gracious Lord, \nacquaint you with some of my success. And I will not \nsuppress it, though I foreknow that the malignant will \nimpute the mention of it to pride and ostentation. For \nit is the sacrifice of thanksgiving which I owe to my \nmost gracious God, which I will not deny him for fear \nof being censured as proud, lest I prove myself proud \nindeed, while I cannot undergo the imputation of pride \nin the offering of my thanks for such undeserved \nmercies. \n\n\" My public preaching met with an attentive, dili- \ngent auditory. Having broke over the brunt of the op- \nposition of the rabble before the wars, I found them \nafterwards tractable and unprejudiced. \n\n\" Before I ever entered into the ministry, God bless- \ned my private conference to the conversion of some, \nwho remain firm and eminent in holiness to this day. \nThen, and in the beginning of my ministry, I was \nwont to number them as jewels ; but since then I could \nnot keep any number of them. \n\n\" The congregation was usually full, so that we \nwere led to build five galleries after my coming thi- \nther, the church itself being very capacious, and the \nmost commodious and convenient that ever I was in. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nOur private meetings also were full. On the Lord's \nday there was no disorder to be seen in the streets, \nbut you might hear a hundred families singing psalms \nand repeating sermons, as you passed through the \nstreets. In a word, when I came thither first, there \nwas about one family in a street that worshipped God \nand called on his name ; and when I came away, there \nwere some streets where there was not more than one \nfamily in the side of a street that did not so ; and that \ndid not, in professing serious godliness, give us hopes \nof their sincerity. And of those families which were \nthe worst, being inns and ale-houses, usually some per- \nsons in each house did seem to be religious. Though \nour administration of the Lord's supper was so order- \ned as displeased many, and the far greater part kept \nthemselves away, yet we had six hundred that were \ncommunicants, of whom there were not twelve that I \nhad not good hopes of, as to their sincerity ; and those \nfew that came to our communion, and yet lived scan- \ndalously, were excommunicated afterwards. And I \nhope there were many who feared God that came not \nto our communion, some of them being kept off by \nhusbands, by parents, by masters, and some dissuaded \nby men that differed from us. \n\n\" When I commenced personal conference with each \nfamily and catechising them, tiiere were very few fa- \nmilies in all the town that reiused to come ; and those \nfew were beggars at the town's ends, who were so ig- \nnorant that they were ashamed it should be manifest. \nAnd few families went from me without some tears, or \nseemingly serious promises for ^ godly life. Yet many \nignorant and ungodly persons there were still among \nus ; but most of them were in the parish, and not in \nthe town, and in those parts of the parish which were \n\n\n\n44 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nfartliest from the town. Some of the poor men com- \npetently understood the body of divinity, and were \nable to judge in difficult controversies. Some of them \nwere so able in prayer, that very few ministers equalled \nthem in order and fullness, apt expressions, holy ora- \ntory, and fervency. A great number of them were able \nto pray very appropriately with their famiUes, or with \nothers. The temper of their minds, and the correct- \nness of their lives, were even more commendable than \ntheir talents. The professors of serious godliness were \ngenerally of very humble minds and carriage ; of meek \nand quiet behavior towards others; and blameless in \ntheir conversation. \n\n\" And in my poor endeavors with my brethren in \nthe ministry, m*y labors were not lost. Our discussions \nproved not unprofitable ; our meetings were never con- \ntentious, but always comfortable. We took great de- \nlight in the company of each other ; so that I know \nthe remembrance of those days is pleasant both to them \nand me. When discouragements had long kept me \nfrom proposing a way of church order and discipline \nwhich all might agree in, that we might neither have \nchurches ungoverned, nor fall into divisions among \nourselves at the first mention of it, I found a readier \nconsent than I could expect, and all went on without \nany great difficulties. And when I attempted to bring \nthem all conjointly to the work of catechising and in- \nstructing every family by itself, I found a ready con- \nsent in most, and performance in many. So that I \nmust here, to the praise of my dear Redeemer, set up \nthis pillar of remembrance, even to his praise who \nhath employed me so many years in so comfortable a \nwork, with such encouraging success ! O what am I, \na worthless worm, not only wanting academical ho- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n45 \n\n\n\nnors, but much of that furniture which is needful to so \nhigh a work, that God should thus abundantly encou- \nrage me, wlien the reverend instructors of my youth \nlabored fifty years together in one place, and could \nscarcely say they had been instrumental in the con- \nversion of even one or two of their hearers. And the \ngreater was this mercy, because I was naturally of a \ndesponding spirit ; so that if I had preached one year, \nand seen no fruits of it, I should hardly have forborne \nrunning away like Jonah, but should have thought \nthat God called me not to that place.\" \n• 3. Advantages. \n\n\" Having related my encouraging successes in this \nplace, I shall next tell you by what and how many \nadvantages so much was effected, under that grace \nwhich worketh by means, though with a free diversi- \nty; which I do for the help of others in managing ig- \nnorant and sinful people. \n\n\" One advantage was, that I came to a people that \nnever had any awakening ministry before. For if they \nhad been hardened under a powerful ministry, and \nbeen sermon proof, I should have expected less. \n\n\" Another advantage was, that at first I was in the \nvigor of my spirits, and had naturally a familiar mov- \ning voice, which is a great matter with the common \nhearers ; and doing all in bodily weakness, as a dying \nman, my soul was the more easily brought to serious- \nness, and to preach as a dying man to dying men ; for \ndrowsy formality does but stupify the hearers and \nrock them asleep. It must be serious preaching which \nmakes men serious in hearing and obeying it.\" \n\n\" Another advantage which I had was, the accepta- \ntion of my person. Though to win estimation and \nlove to ourselves only, be an end that none but proud \n\n\n\n46 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nmen and hypocrites intend, yet it is most certain that \nthe acceptableness of the person ingratiates the message, \nand greatly prepares the people to receive the truth, \ny Had they taken me to be ignorant, erroneous, scanda- \n/ lous, worldly, self-seeking, or such like, I could have \nexpected small success among them. \n\n\" Another advantage which I had was through the \nzeal and diligence of the godly people of the place, who \nthirsted after the salvation of their neighbors, and were, \nin private, my assistants ; and being dispersed through \nthe town, they were ready, in almost all companies, \nto repress seducing words, and to justify godliness, and \nconvince, reprove, and exhort men according to their \nneeds ; and also to teach them how to pray, and to \nhelp them to sanctify the Lord's day. Those people \nthat had none in their families who could pray or re- \npeat the sermons, went to the houses of their neigh- \nbors who could do it, and joined with them ; so that \nsome houses of the ablest men in each street were filled \nwith them that could do nothing or little in their own. \n\n\" And the holy, humble, blameless lives of the reli- \ngious was a great advantage to me. The malicious peo- \nple could not say. Your professors here are as proud \nand covetous as any. But the blameless lives of godly \npeople shamed opposers, and put to silence the igno- \nrance of foolish men, and many were won by their \ngood conversation.\" \n\n\" Our private meetings were a marvellous help to \nthe propagating of godliness among them ; for thereby \ntruths that slipped away were recalled, and the seri- \nousness of the people's minds renewed, and good de \nsires cherished ; and hereby their knowledge was much \nincreased; and here the younger Christians learned \nto pray, by frequently hearing others. And here I had \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n\nOpportunity to know their case ; for if any were touch- \ned and awakened in public, I would presently see them \ndrop in to our private meetings.\" \n\n\" Another furtherance of my work was the works \nwhich I wrote and distributed among them. Of some \nsmall books I gave each family one, which came to \nabout eight hundred ; of the larger I gave fewer ; and \nto every family that was poor, and had not a Bible, I \ngave a Bible. I had fomid, myself, the benefit of read- \ning to be so great, that 1 could not but think it would \nbe profitable to others. \n\n\" And it was a great advantage to me, that my neigh- \nbors were of such a trade as allowed them time enough \nto read or talk of holy things ; for the town liveth upon \nthe weaving of Kidderminster stuffs, and as they stand \nin their loom they can set a book before them, or edify \none another.\" \n\nAnd I found that my single life afforded me much \nadvantage ; for I could the more easily take my people \nfor my children, and think all that I had too little for \nthem, in that I had no children of my own to tempt \nme to another way of using it. And being discharged \nfrom the most of family cares, keeping but one ser- \nvant, I had the more time and liberty for the labors of \nmy calling. \n\n\" And God made use of my practice of physic among \nthem as a very great advantage to my ministry ; for \nthey that cared not for their souls, loved their lives \nand cared for their bodies. And by this they were \nmade almost as observant as a tenant is of his land- \nlord. Sometimes I could see before me in the church \na very considerable part of the congregation, whose \nlives God had made me a means to save, or to recover \n\n\n\n48 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ntheir health ; and doing it for nothing, so obliged them, \nthat they would readily hear me. \n\n\" And it was a great advantage to me, that there \nwere at last few that were bad, who had not some of \ntheir own relations converted. Many children were \nsubjects of God's grace at fourteen, or fifteen, or sixteen \nyears of age; and this did marvellously reconcile the \nminds of their parents to godliness. They that would \nnot hear me, would hear their own children. They \nthat before could have talked against godliness, would \nnot hear it spoken against when it was their children's \ncase. 3Iany that would not be brought to it themselves, \nwere gratified that they had intelligent religious chil- \ndren. And we had some persons near eighty years of \nage, who are, I hope, in heaven, and the conversion of \ntheir own children was the chief means to overcome \ntheir prejudice, and old customs, and conceits. \n\n\" And God made great use of sickness to do good to \nmany. For though sick-bed promises are usually soon \nforgotten, yet was it otherwise with many among us ; \nand as soon as they were recovered, they first came \nto our private meetings, and so kept in a learning state, \ntill further fruits of piety appeared.\" \n\n\" Another of ray great advantages was, the true \nworth and unanimity of the honest ministers of the \ncountry round about us, who associated in a way of \nconcord with us. Their preaching was powerful and \nsober; their spirits peaceable and meek, disowning the \ntreasons aad iniquities of the times, as well as we ; they \nwere wholly devoted to the winning of souls ; self- \ndenying, and of most blameless lives ; evil spoken of \nby no sober men, but greatly beloved by their own \npeople and all that knew them ; adhenng to no fac- \ntion ; neither Episcopal; Presbyterian, nor Independ* \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n49 \n\n\n\nent, as to parties; but desiring union, and loving that \nwhich is good, in all.\" \n\n\" Another great help to my success at last, was the \nbefore described work of personal conference with \nevery family apart, and catechising and instructing \nthem. That which was spoken to them personally, \nand sometimes drew forth their answers, awakened \ntheir attention, and was more easily applied than pub- \nlic preaching, and seemed to do much more upon them. \n\n\" And the exercise of church discipline was no small \nfurtherance of the people's good ; for I found plainly, \nthat without it I could not have kept the more spiritual \nfrom separations and divisions. There is something \ngenerally in their dispositions which inclines them to \nseparate from open ungodly sinners, as men of ano- \nther nature and society; and if they had not seen me \ndo something reasonable for a regular separation of the \nnotorious obstinate sinners from the rest, they would \nhave withdrawn themselves irregularly ; and it would \nnot have been in my power to satisfy them.\" \n\nAnother means of success was, directing my in \nstructions to them in a suitableness to the main end, \nand yet so as might suit their dispositions and diseases. \nI daily opened to them, and with the greatest impor- \ntunity labored to imprint upon their minds the great \nfundamental principles of Christianity, even a right \nknowledge and belief of, and subjection and love to \nGod the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost ; and \nlove to all men, and concord with the church and one \nanother. I daily so inculcated the knowledge of God \nour Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, and love and \nobedience to God, and unity with the spiritual church, \nand love to men, and hope of life eternal, that these \nwere the matter of their daily thoughts and discourses, \n\nL. B. 5 \n\n\n\n50 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nand indeed their religion. And yet I usually put some- \nthing in my sermon which was above their own dis- \ncovery, and which they had not known before ; and \nthis I did, that they might be kept humble, and still \nperceive their ignorance, and be willing to keep in a \nlearning state. And I did this also to increase their \nknowledge and make religion pleasant to them, by a \ndaily addition to their former light, and to draw them \non with desire and delight. But these things which \nthey did not know before, were not unprofitable con- \ntroversies, whicji tended not to edification, nor novel- \nties in doctrine, contrary to the universal church ; but \neither such points as tended to illustrate the great doc- \ntrines before-mentioned, or usually about the right me- \nthodizing of them ; as the opening of the true and pro- \nfitable method of the creed or doctrine of faith, the Lord's \nprayer or m.atter of our desires, and the ten command- \nments or law of practice ; which afford matter to add \nto the knowledge of most professors of religion a long \ntime. And when that is done, they must be led on still \nfurther, by degrees, as they are capable ; but so as not \nto leave the weak behind ; and so as shall still be truly \nsubservient to the great points of faith, hope, and love, \nholiness and unity, which must be still inculcated as \nthe beginning and the end of all.\" \n\n\" And it much furthered my success, that I stayed \nstill in this one place near two years before the wars, \nand above fourteen years after; for he that removeth \noften from place to place, may sow good seed in many \nplaces, but is not likely to see much fruit in any, un- \nless some other skillful hand shall follow him to water \nit. It was a great advantage to me to have almost all \nthe religious people of the place of my own instruct- \ning and informing ; and that tliey were not formed \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n51 \n\n\n\ninto erroneous and factious principles before ; and that \nI stayed to see them grown up to some confirmedness \nand maturity.\" \n\nThese passages strikingly depict the means and ef- \nfects of a revival of religion. Only let love to the Re- \ndeemer burn with quenchless ardor in the breast, and \neternity with its tremendous and unutterable conse- \nquences be distinctly realized ; compassion to immor- \ntal spirits infuse its tenderness and solicitude through- \nout the soul ; a deep and unfailing sense of ministerial \nresponsibility rest upon the conscience ; then all the \npowers, talents, and influence that can be commanded, \nwill be brought into exercise, and made to bear with \nunceasing energy on the great work of saving immor- \ntal souls, and then the Lord will command his \" bless- \ning, even life for evermore.\" \n\nThe secret of Baxter's success, perhaps, consisted \nprominently in the zeal, affection, and perseverance he \ndisplayed in following his 'people to their' homes. His \nvisits from house to house were for the purpose of ap- \nplying with more close and pungent force the truths \nwhich were taught from the pulpit, or learned in the \nsystematic instructions which were given to families \nand to children. And it is remarkable that his success \nin the earliest period of his ministry was chiefly \namongst the young. In the preface to his work enti- \ntled \" Compassionate Counsel to all Young Men,\" &c. \nhe observes—\" At Kidderminster, where God most \nblessed my labors, my first and greatest success was \nwith the youth : and what was a marvellous way of \ndivine mercy, when God had touched the hearts of \nyoung people, and brought them to the love and obedi- \nence of the truth, the parents and grand-parents who \nhad grown old in an ignorant and worldly stale, enibrac- \n\n\n\n52 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ned religion, led by the love of their children, whom \nthey perceived to be made, by it, much wiser and bet- \nter, and more dutiful to them.\" — \" By much experience \nI have been made more sensible of the necessity of \nwarning and instructing youth, than I was before. \nMany say reports have taught it to me ; the sad com- \nplaints of mournful parents have taught it me ; the \nsad observation of the willful impenitence of some of \nmy acquaintance tells it me; the many scores, if not \nhundreds of bills, that have been publicly put up to me \nto pray for wicked and obstinate children, have told it \nme; and, by the grace of God, the penitent confes- \nsions, lamentations, and restitutions of many converts, \nhave made me more particularly acquainted with their \ncase ; which moved me for a time, on my Thursday's \nlecture, the first of every month, to speak to youth \nand those that educate them.\" \n\nThe religious education of youth is of infinite im- \nportance to families and to a nation, to the church \nand the world. \n\nThe youthful members of his congregation should \nengage the anxious attention of every pastor. They \nare the hopes of his ministry. With them truth meets \nthe readiest reception. Among them conversion most \nfrequently takes place. From them the most valuable \nmembers of Christian society are obtained. Rising \ninto life, their influence is exerted wholly on the side \nof truth and piety ; and when more matured in years, \ntheir instructions and example benefit and bless their \niiamilies, their connexions, and the world. The con- \nversion of a soul in the period of youth prevents its \nentering on a course of sin, engages it to the practice \nof lioliness, ensures the exertion of its influence in be- \nhalf of God and his cause through the whole of its \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n53 \n\n\n\nearthly being ; and tlius a career of happiness begins \nwhich shall 'xtend throughout eternity. \n\nIn conpsction with this statement of Baxter's labors \nand sue ;ss, some notice may be taken of his work \nentitled the \" Reformed Pastor,\" written expressly to \narouse the attention and excite the eftbrts of the Chris- \ntian ministry to the great work in which he himself \nhad so successfully engaged. His reverend brethren \nhad witnessed the astonishing results of his pastoral \nengagements, and were anxious to make some efforts \nto accomplish among their own people similar results. \nA day of fasting and prayer was appointed by them- \nselves at Worcester, before entering on their untried \nlabors, and Baxter was requested to preach on the oc- \ncasion. He prepared his sermon, but his illness pre- \nvented his preaching. He therefore enlarged his ser- \nmon into a treatise, and published it. Concerning this \nwork he says : \n\n\" I have very great cause to be thankful to God for \nthe success of that book, as hoping many thousand \nsouls are the better for it, in that it prevailed with \nmany ministers to set upon that work which I there \nexhort them to. Even from beyond the seas I have \nhad letters of request to direct them how they might \npromote that work, according as that book had con- \nvinced them that it was their duty. If God would but \nreform the ministry, and set them on their duties \nzealously and faithfully, the people would certainly \nbe reformed. All churches either rise or fall as the \nministry rise or fall, not in riches and worldly gran- \ndeur, but in knowledge, zeal, and ability for their \nwork.\" \n\nMany and just encomiums have been passed on this \nwork. \"In the whole compass of divinity there is \n\nL. B. 5* \n\n\n\n54 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nscarcely any thing superior to it, in close pathetic \nappeals to the conscience of the minister of Christ, \nupon the primary duties of his office.\" The editor of \na recent edition justly says, \" Of the excellence of \nthis work it is scarcely possihle to speak in too high \nterms. For powerful, pathetic, pungent, and heart- \npiercing address, we know of no work on the pastoral \ncare to be compared with it. Could we suppose it to \nbe read by an angel, or by some other being possessed \nof an unl'allen nature, the argumentation and expostu- \nlations of our author would be felt to be altogether \nirresistible : and harcf must be the heart of that minis- \nter who can read it without being moved, melted, and \noverwhelmed : hard must be his heart, if he be not \nroused to greater faithfulness, diligence, and activity \nin winning souls to Christ. It is a work worthy of be- \ning printed in letters of gold. It deserves, at least, to \nbe engraven on the heart of every minister. I cannot \nhelp suggesting to the friends of religion that they \ncould not, perhaps, do more good at less expense, than \nby presenting copies of this work to the ministers of \nChrist throughout the country. They are the chief \ninstruments through whom good is to be effected in \nany country. How important, then, must it be to stir \nthem up to holy zeal and activity in the cause of \nthe Redeemer ! A tract given to a poor man may be the \nmeans of his conversion; but a work, such as this, \npresented to a minister, may, through his increased \nfaithfulness and energy, prove the conversion of mul- \ntitudes.\" \n\nIn addition to Baxter's numerous ministerial and \npastoral labors, he was consulted by persons of all \nclasses and professions on the various subjects connect- \ned with church and state, which at that period were \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n55 \n\n\n\nhotly and fiercely agitated. His pacific disposition, and \nhis desire to promote universal concord among all re- \nligious parties, were generally known. Hence his ad- \nvice was eagerly sought by all. This must have occu- \npied no small portion of his time, and caused him no \nlittle anxiety. He gives a curious account of his being \nconsulted by Cromwell, and his preaching before him. \n\n\"At this time Lord Broghill and the Earl of Warwick \nbrought me to preach before Cromwell, the protector, \nwhich was the only time that ever I preached to him, \nsave once long before, when he was an Inferior man \namong other auditors. I knew not which way to pro- \nvoke liim better to his duty, than by preaching on 1 \nCor. 1 : 10, against the divisions and distractions of \nthe church, and showing how mischievous a thing it \nwas for politicans to maintain such divisions for their \nown ends, that they might fish in troubled waters, and \nkeep the church, by its divisions, in a state of weakness, \nlest it should be able to offend them: and to show the \nnecessity and means of union. But the plainness and \nnearness,! heard, was displeasing to him and his cour- \ntiers; yet they bore with it. \n\n\"A while after, Cromwell sent to speak with me; \nand when I came, in the presence only of three of his \nchief men, he began a long and tedious speech to me \nof God's providence in the change of the government, \nand how God had owned it, and what great things had \nbeen done at home and abroad, in the peace with Spain \nand Holland, &c. When he had wearied us all with \nspeaking thus slowly about an hour, I told him it was \ntoo great condescension to acquaint me so fully with \nall these matters which were above me, but that we \ntook our ancient monarchy to be a blessing, and not \nan evil to the land, and humbly craved his patience, \n\n\n\n56 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nthat I might ask him how England had ever forfeited \nthat blessing, and unto whom the forfeiture was made ? \nI was led to speak of the species of government only, \nfor they iiad lately made it treason by a law to speak \nfor the person of the king. Upon that question he was \nawakened into some passion, and told me it was no for \nfeiture, but God had changed it as pleased him ; and \nthen he let fly at the parliament, which thwarted him; \nand especially by name at four or five of those mem- \nbers who were my chief acquaintance ; and I presumed \nto defend them against his passion : and thus four or \nfive hours were spent. \n\n\"A few days after, he sent for me again, to hear my \njudgment about liberty of conscience, which he pre- \ntended to be most zealous for, before almost all his pri- \nvy council, where, after another slow, tedious speech \nof his, I told him a little of my judgment.\" \n\nBaxter was also consulted by various private indivi- \nduals on cases of conscience, which he was requested \nto solve. To these he lent a willing ear, and adminis- \ntered suitable advice ; or he replied to them in suitable \nand interesting letters. This must have occupied his \ntime considerably. Besides, during his residence at \nKidderminster, and while pursuing his indefatigable \nlabors among his flock, he wrote and published nearly \nsixty different works, many of them quarto volumes of \nconsiderable size. Among these may be specially enu- \nmerated, in addition to those already noticed, his \"Call \nto the Unconverted,\"* his \" Treatise on Conversion,\" \n\" On Self-denial,\" on \" Crucifying the World,\" on \n\" Peace of Conscience,\" &c. &c. &c. \n\nThese herculean labors seem incredible. But for the \n\n•Published by the American Tract Society. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n57 \n\n\n\nexistence of the works themselves, his own declara- \ntions, and the concurring testimony of his several bio- \ngraphers, it would have been deemed impossible that, \nwith his enfeebled health and incessant pain, he could \nhave accomplished so much in so short a time. \n\nHis own account of his general labors shows at once \nhis piety and devotedness, his spirit and energy, his \nzeal and perseverance. He remarks : \n\n\" But all these my labors, except my private con- \nferences with the families, even preaching and prepar- \ning for it, were but my recreaiions, and, as it were, the \nwork of my spare hours ; for my writings were my \nchief daily labor, which yet went the more slowly on, \nthat I never one hour had an amanuensis to dictate to, \nand especially because my weakness took up so much \nof my time. For all the pains that my infirmities ever \nbrought upon me, were never half so grievous an afflic- \ntion to me as the unavoidable loss of my time which \nthey occasioned.\" \n\nHis treatise on \" Self-denial\" originated in his deep \nconviction of the \"breadth, and length, and depth of \nthe radical, universal, odious sin of selfishness.\" Un- \nder this conviction he preached a series of sermons on \nthe subject, and, at the urgent entreaty of his friends, \nhe published them in the form they now assume. He \nsays that the work \" found better acceptance than \nmost of his others, but yet prevented not the ruin of \nchurch and state, and millions of souls by that sin.\" \n\nPrevious to this he had published his work on \" Con- \nversion.\" This he says \" was taken from plain sermons \nwhich Mr. Baldwin bad transcribed out of my notes. \nAnd though I had no leisure, in this or other writings, \nto take much care of the style, nor to add any orna- \nments, or citations of authors, I thought it might better \n\n\n\n58 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\npass as it was, than not at all; and that if the author \nmissed of the applause of the learned, yet the book \nmight be profitable to the ignorant, as it proved, \nthrough the great mercy of God.\" \n\nApologizing for the plainness and earnestness of his \nmanner, he observes, \" The commonness and the great- \nness of men's necessity commanded me to do any thing \nthat I could for their relief, and to bring forth some \nwater to cast upon this fire, though I had not at hand \na silver vessel to carry it in, nor thought it the most fit. \nThe plainest words are the most profitable oratory in \nthe weightiest matters. Fineness is for ornament, and \ndelicacy for delight ; but they answer not necessity, \nthough sometimes they may modestly attend that which \nanswers it. Yea, when they are conjunct, it is hard for \nthe necessitous hearer or reader to observe the matter \nof ornament and delicacy, and not to be carried from \nthe matter of necessity ; and to hear or read a neat, con- \ncise, sententious discourse, and not to be hurt by it; \nfor it usually hinders the due operation of the matter, \nkeeps it from the heart, stops it in the fancy, and makes \nit seem as light as the style. AVe use not compliments \nwhen we run to quench a common fire, nor do we call \nmen to escape from it by an eloquent speech. If we \nsee a man fall into fire or water, we regard not the man- \nner of plucking him out, but lay hands upon him as we \ncan, whhout delay.\" \n\nBaxter's \" Call to the Unconverted \" was made re- \nmarkably useful. He says, \" The occasion of this was \nmy converse with Bishop Usher, while I was at Lon- \ndon, who, much approving my method or directions \nfor peace of conscience, was importunate with me to \nwrite directions suited to the various states of Chris- \ntian?, and also against particular sins. I reverenced the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n59 \n\n\n\nman, but disregarded these persuasions, supposing I \ncould do nothing but what was done as well or better al- \nready. But when he was dead, his words went deeper \nlo my mind, and I purposed to obey his counsel] yei \nso as that to the first sort of men, the ungodly, I thought \nvehement persuasions meeter than directions only. \nAnd so for such I published this little book, whicii \nGod has blessed with unexpected success beyond all \nthe rest that I have written, except the Saints' Rest. \nIn a little more than a year there were about twenty \nthousand of them printed by my own consent, and \nabout ten thousand since, besides many thousands by \nstolen impressions, which men stole lor lucre's sake. \nThrough God's mercy I have had information of al- \nmost whole households converted by this small book, \nwhich I set so light by. And as if all this in England, \nScotland, and Ireland were not mercy enough to me, \nGod, since I was silenced, has sent it over on his mes- \nsage to many beyond the seas ; for when Mr. Eliot had \nprinted the Bible in the Indian language, he next \ntranslated this my ' Call to the Unconverted,' as he \nwrote to us here.\" \n\nIn addition to its usefulness mentioned by Baxter \nhimself. Dr. Bates relates an instance of six brothers \nbeing converted at one time by this invaluable book. \nTo this work, multitudes now in glory, and many ad- \nvancing thither, stand indebted for their first serious \nimpressions. Urged by its awful denunciations, they \nhave fled from the \" city of destruction ;\" they have \nsought refuge at the cross of Calvary. Like the preach- \ning of John, it awakens, alarms, and terrifies, that it \nmay lead to peace, holiness, and glory, through Christ. \n\nAmong other methods of doing good, Baxter adopt- \ned the plan which is now so generally employed, of \n\n\n\n60 \n\n\n\nLIFE or BAXTER* \n\n\n\npublishing small tracts, broadsheets, or liaiidbills. He \npubhshed various broadsheets, and had them affixed \nto walls and public buildings, that the attention of pas- \nsengers might be arrested, and that those who had no \nleisure for larger works, or were indisposed to pur- \nchase treatises, might be informed, edified, and saved. \nThis plan he adopted with great success during the \nraging of the plague. \n\nThis was certainly the most active, useful, and im* \nportant period of his life. His labors subsequently to \nthis were of a more chequered, desultory, and less ob- \nvious character. Their results, though undoubtedly \ngreat, inasmuch as he labored with the same zeal, pie- \nty, and devotedness as heretofore, yet could not be \nperceived so manifestly as when his efforts were con- \ncentrated in one spot, and were superintended by his \nuntiring pastoral vigilance. The time of persecution \nfor conscience' sake was at hand. He therefore, in \ncommon wiih multitudes of his brethren, was obhged \nto labor in such places, and on such occasions only, as \nthe providence of God pointed out. But these labors \nwere not in vain, for, as in days of old, they \" that \nwere scattered abroad, went every where preaching \nthe word.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\nHIS ENGAGEaiENTS AFTER LEAVING KIDDERMINSTER. \n\nBaxter had acquired great celebrity, both as a \npreacher and writer. He was known, moreover, to be \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTLH. \n\n\n\n61 \n\n\n\nan ardent friend to civil and ecclesiastical peace. \nHence he was frequently consulted on these subjects, \nnot only by ministers, but by the higher powers. On \nvarious occasions he went to London, and it would \nseem chiefly on business relating both to the church \nand the nation. Early in April, 1060, he left Kidder- \nminster, and reached London on the 13th of that \nmonth. The reason of his leaving is not stated, but it \nappears evidently to have been in connexion with the \nstate of public affairs. \n\nIt was a saying of Baxter's, that we are \" no more \nchoosers of our employments than of our successes.\" \nThe truth of this observation he was now especially \nrailed to verify by his own experience. On reaching \nLondon he was consulted on the subject of the (king's) \n\" Restoration.\" This event he, in common with multi- \ntudes of his brethren, was desirous of seeing accom-\" \nplished. \n\nThe new parliament appointed a day of fasting and \nprayer, and required Baxter to preach before them on \nthe occasion. This occurred the day before the bill \nwas passed for the return of the exiled monarch. \nShortly after he was called to preach a thanksgiving \nsermon, on Monk's success, at St. Paul's, before the \nlord mayor and aldermen. Neither of the sermons ap- \npear to have given entire satisfaction. His moderate \nviews displeased partizans of all sides : some charged \nhim with sedition ; others with vacillation and tempo- \nrizing in politics. He was, however, a friend to the \nking, and rejoiced in the prospect of his restoration. \nHe used all his efforts to promote its accomplishment. \n\nWhen king Charles was restored, amid the general \nacclamations of the nation, several of the Presbyterian \nministers were made chaplains in ordinary to him, \n\nL. B. 6 \n\n\n\n62 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nAmong whom was Baxter. His certificate of appoint- \nment to the office is dated June 26, 1660. Various con- \nferences were held b}- Baxter and his friends, to pro- \nmote a union between episcopacy and presbyterianisni. \nA meeting was held on the subject, in the presence of \nCharles, at which Baxter was the chief speaker. His \naddress on the occasion is distinguished alike by its \npiety and fidelity. He was desirous of promoting and \nsecuring tlie religious liberties of the people, and of \npreventing those measures which he perceived were \ncontemplated to remove many of the most holy and \nzealous preachers from their flocks. The following \npassage from his address to the king shows the efforts \nthat had been made to preserve the Gospel ministry \nduring the commonwealth, and his desire that, under \nthe dominion of their rightful monarch, the same in- \nvaluable privilege might be preserved. \n\nI presumed to tell him (iiis majesty) that the peo- \nple we spake for were such as were contented with an \ninterest in heaven, and the liberty and advantages of the \nGospel to promote it; and if this were taken from them, \nand they were deprived of their faithful pastors, and \nliberty of worshipping God, they would consider them- \nselves undone in this world, whatever plenty else they \nshould enjoy ; and the hearts of his most faithful sub- \njects, who hoped for his help, would even be broken; \nand that we doubted not but his majesty desired to \ngovern a people made happy by him, and not a broken- \nhearted people, that considered themselves undone by \nthe loss of that which is dearer to them than all the \nriches of the world. And I presumed to tell him that \nthe late usurpers that were over us, so well understood \ntheir own interest, that, to promote it, they had found \nthis way of doing good to be the most effectual means, \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n63 \n\n\n\nand had placed and encouraged many thousand faith- \nful ministers in the church, even such as detested \ntheir usurpation. And so far liad they attained their \nends hereby, that it was the principal means of their \ninterest in the people, and the good opinion that any \nhad conceived of them ; and those of them that had \ntaken the contrary course, had thereby broken them- \nselves to pieces. Wherefore I humbly craved his ma- \njesty's patience that we might have the freedom to re- \nquest of him that, as he was our lawful king, in whom \nall his people, save a few inconsiderable persons, were \nprepared to centre, as weary of their divisions, and \nglad of the satisfactory means of union in him, so he \nwould be pleased to undertake this blessed work of \npromoting their holiness and concord ; for it was not \nfaction or disobedience which we desired him to in- \ndulge. And that he would never suffer himself to be \ntempted to undo the good which Cromwell or any \nother had done, because they were usurpers that did \nit ; or discountenance a faithful ministry because his \nenemies had set them up. But that he would rather \noutgo them in doing good, and opposing and rejecting \nthe ignorant and ungodly, of what opinion or party \nsoever. For the people w^hose cause we recommended \nto him, had their eyes on him as the officer of God, \n10 defend them in the possession of the helps of their \nsalvation ; which, if he were pleased to vouchsafe \nihem, their estates and lives would be cheerfully of- \nfered to his service.\" \n\n\" The king gave us not only a free audience, but as \ngracious an answer as we could expect ; professing his \ngladness to hear our inclinations to agreement, and his \nresolution to do his part to bring us together; and that \nit must not be by bringing one party over to the other, \n\n\n\n64 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nbut by abating somewhat on both sides, and meeting \nin the midway ; and that, if it were not accomplished, \nit should be of ourselves, and not of him : nay, that he \nwas resolved to see it brought to pass, and that he \nwould draw us together himself: with some more to \nthis purpose. Insomuch that old Mr. Ash burst out \ninto tears with joy, and could not forbear expressing \nwhat gladness this promise of his majesty had put into \nhis heart.\" \n\nProposals of agreement were submitted to the king \nand his advisers, but without effect. Subsequently to \nthis, Baxter was offered a bishopric by the lord chan- \ncellor; but this, for various reasons, he declined. He \ndid not consider it \" as a thing unlawful in itself,\" \nbut he thought he \"could better serve the church \nwithout it.\" In the letter in which he declines epis- \ncopal honors, he begs of the lord chancellor that he \nmight be allowed to preach to his old charge at Kid- \nderminster. He says : \n\n\"When I had refused a bishopric, I did it on such \nreasons as offended not the lord chancellor; and there- \nfore, instead of it, I presumed to crave his favor to re- \nstore me to preach to my people at Kidderminster \nagain, from whence I had been cast out, when many \nhundreds of others were ejected upon the restoration \nof all them that had been sequestered. It was but a \nvicarage ; and the vicar was a poor, unlearned, igno- \nrant, silly reader, that little understood what Chris- \ntianity and the articles of his creed did signify : but \nonce a quarter he said something which he called a \nsermon, which made him the pity or laughter of the \npeople. This man, being unable to preach himself, \nkept always a curate under him to preach. Before the \nwars, I had preached there only as a lecturer? and he \n\nf \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n65 \n\n\n\nwas bound in a bond of £500 to pay me X60 per \nannum, and afterwards he was sequestered, as is be- \nfore sufficiently declared. My people were so dear to \nme, and I to them, that I would have been with them \nupon the lowest lawful terms. Some laughed at me \nfor refusing a bishopric, and petitioning to be a read- \ning vicar's curate. But I had little hopes of so good a \ncondition, at least for any considerable time.\" \n\nHis application, however, proved unsuccessful ; for \narrangements could not be made between the patron \nand the chancellor respecting the removal of the old \nvicar, who retained the charge of four thousand souls, \nthough utterly incompetent for his important duties, \nand Baxter was left without a charge. \n\nThough not permitted to return to his charge, he \nnevertheless exerted himself in various ways to pro- \nmote the glory of God and the good of souls. His at- \ntention was, at this period, drawn to the subject of \nmissions among the North American Indians. Eliot, \nthe \" Apostle of the Indians,\" and his assistants, had \neffected much good among the roving tribes of Ame- \nrica. Cromwell had entered warmly into tlie cause, \nand ordered collections to be made in every parish \nfor the propagation of the Gospel in those regions. \nFunds were raised, a society was formed and incor- \nporated, and much good was effected. At the \" Resto- \nration,\" some parties, inimical to the truth, endeavor- \ned to destroy the institution, and to appropriate the \nfunds to other objects. Baxter, assisted by others, ex- \nerted himself to prevent this spoliation; and by his \ninfluence at court, succeeded in securing the property, \nand in restoring the society to its original design. \n\nFor his exertions he received a letter of thanks from \nthe Governor of New England, and another from the \nL. B. 6* \n\n\n\n66 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER, \n\n\n\nvenerable Eliot. The latter informs Baxter of his in- \ntention to translate the \" Call to the Unconverted\" in- \nto the Indian language, but waited for his permission, \nhis counsel, and his prayers. To this letter Baxter re- \npHed. A few extracts from his reply will show the in- \nterest that both he and many others felt in the cause \nof missions in those troublous times. \n\n\" Reverend and much honored brother, — Though \nour sins have separated us from the people of our love \nand care, and deprived us of all public liberty of preach- \ning the Gospel of our Lord, I greatly rejoice in the \nliberty, help, and success which Christ has so long \nvouchsafed you in his work. There is no man on earth \nwhose work I think more honorable than yours. To \npropagate the Gospel and kingdom of Christ in those \ndark parts of the world, is a better work than our ha- \nting and devouring one another. There are many here \nthat would be ambitious of being your fellow-laborers, \nbut that they are informed you have access to no \ngreater a number of the Indians than you yourself and \nyour present assistants are able to instruct. An hono- \nrable gentleman, Mr. Robert Boyle, the governor of the \ncorporation for your work, a man of great learning and \nworth, and of a very public universal mind, did motion \nto me a public collection, in all our churches, for the \nmaintaining of such ministers as are willing to go \nhence to you, while they are learning the Indian lan- \nguages and laboring in the work, as also to transport \nthem. But I find those backward that I have spoken \nto about it, partly suspecting it a design of those that \n\\vould be rid of them ; (but if it would promote the \nwork of God, this objection were too carnal to be re- \ngarded by good men ;) partly fearing that, when the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n67 \n\n\n\nmoney is gathered, the work may be frustrated by the \nalienation of it, but this I think they need not fear so \nfar as to hinder any ; partly because they think there \nwill be nothing considerable gathered, because the peo- \nple tliat are unwillingly divorced from their teachers \nwill give nothing to send them farther from them, but \nspecially because they thhik, on the aforesaid grounds, \nthat there is no work for them to do if they were with \nyou. There are many here, I conjecture, that would \nbe glad logo any where, to Persians, Tartars, Indians, \nor any unbelieving nation, to propagate the Gospel, \nif they thought they could be serviceable ; but the de- \nfect of their languages is their great discouragement. \nThe industry of the Jesuits and friars, and their suc- \ncesses in Congo, Japan, China, &c. shame us all, save \nyou. I should be glad to learn from you how far your \nIndian tongue extends; how large or populous the \ncountry is tliat uses it, if it be known ; and whether it \nreach only to a few scattered neighbors, who cannot \nthemselves convey their knowledge far because of \nother languages. We very much rejoice in your hap- \npy work, the translation of the Bible, and bless God \nthat hath strengthened you to finish it. If any thing \nof mine may be honored to contribute in the least \nmeasure to your blessed work, I shall have great cause \nto be thankful to God, and wholly submit the altera- \ntion and use of it to your wisdom.\" \n\nThe state of the heathen appears to have occupied \nthe thoughts of Baxter through the whole course of \nhis ministry. Numerous allusions and references to \nthe subject are found in his writings. In the preface \nto his work entitled the \" Reasons of the Cliristian \nReligion,\" he states that his desire to promote \" the \nconversion of idolaters and infidels to God and the \n\n\n\n68 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nChristian faith,\" was one of the reasons which prompt \ned him to write that work. \" The doleful thought that \nfive parts of the world were still heathens and Moham- \nmedans, and that Christian princes and preachers did \nno more for their recovery,\" awakened the most pain- \nful anxiety and distress in his mind. In his work, \"How \nto do Good to Many,\" &c. he asks, \" Is it not possible, \nat least, to help the poor ignorant Armenians, Greeks, \nMuscovites, and other Christians, who have no print- \ning imong them, nor much preaching and knowledge ; \nana for want of printing, have very few Bibles, even \nfor their churches or ministers? Could nothing be \ndone to get some Bibles, catechisms, and practical \nbooks printed in their own tongues, and given among \nthem? I know there is difficulty in the way; but \nmoney, and willingness, and diligence, might do some- \nth;ng. Might not something be done in other planta- \ntions, as well as in New-England, towards the conver- \nsion of the natives there? IMight not some skillful, \nzealous preachers be sent thither, who would promote \nserious piety among those of the English that have too \nlittle of it, teach the natives the Gospel, and our plant- \ners how to behave themselves so as to win souls to \nChrist?\" \n\nHow powerfully affecting, and yet how truly appli- \ncable, even at the present hour, is the following pas- \nsage, contained in his life! — \"It would make a believ- \ner's heart bleed, if any thing in the world will do it, \nto think that five parts in six of the world are still \nheathens, Mohammedans, and infidels, and that the \nwicked lives of Christians, with fopperies, ignorance, \nand divisions, form the great impediment to their con- \nversion ! to read and hear travelers and merchants \ntell that the Banians, and other heathens in Hindostan, \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n69 \n\n\n\nCambaia, and many other lands, and tlie Mohamme- \ndans adjoining to the Greeks, and the Abyssinians, \ntK;c. do commonly fly from Christianity, and say, 'God \nwill not save us if we be Christians, for Christians are \ndrunkards, and proud, and deceivers,' &c. and that \nthe Mohammedans and many heathens have more, \nboth of devotion and honesty, than nominal Christians \nthat live among them ! O wretched men, calling them- \ntselves after the name of Christ ! that are not content \nto damn themselves, but thus lay stumbling-blocks \nbefore the world ! It were better for these men that \nthey had never been born ! \n\nAt the close of his life, and on the near approach of \neternity, his mind was deeply interested on this im- \nportant subject. The unbounded benevolence of his \nheart is poured forth in the following extract from his \nsolemn review of his own character, made in his last \ndays : \n\n\" My soul is much more afflicted with the thoughts \nof the miserable world, and more drawn out in desire \nof their conversion, than heretofore. I was wont to \nlook but little farther than England in my prayers, as \nnot considering the state of the rest of the w^orld : or, \nif I prayed for the conversion of the Jews, that was \nalmost all. But now. as I better understand the case \nof the world, and the method of the Lord's prayer, so \nthere is nothing that lies so heavy upon my heart as \nthe thought of the miserable nations of the earth. It \nis the most astonishing part of all God's providence \nto me, that he so far forsakes almost all the world, and \nconfines his special favor to so few; that so small a \npart of the world has the profession of Christianity, \nm comparison of heathens, Mohammedans, and infi- \ncels ! and that, among professed Christians, there are \n\n\n\n70 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nSO few that are saved from gross delusions, and have \nany competent knowledge ; and that among those \nthere are so few that are seriously religious, and truly \nset their hearts on heaven. I cannot be affected so \nmuch with the calamities of my own relations, or of \nthe land of my nativity, as v/iih the case of the hea- \nthen, Mohammedan, and ignorant nations of the earth. \nNo part of ray prayers is so deeply serious as that for \nthe conversion of the infidel and ungodly world, that \nGod's name may be sanctified, and his kingdom come, \nand his will be done on earth, as it is in heaven. Nor \nwas I ever before so sensible what a plague the divi- \nsion of languages was, which hinders our speaking to \nthem for their conversion ; nor what a great sin ty- \nranny is, which keeps out the Gospel from most of \nihe nations of the world. Could we but go among \nTartars, Turks, and heathens, and speak their lan- \nguage, I should be but little troubled for the silencing \nof eighteen hundred ministers at once in England, nor \nfor all the rest that v. ere cast out here, and in Scot- \nland and Ireland. There being no employment in the \nworld so desirable in my eyes, as to labor for the win- \nning of such miserable souls, which makes me greath- \nhonor Mr. John Eliot, the apostle of the Indians in \nNew-England, and whoever else have labored in sucli \nwork.\" \n\nBaxter almost despaired of the conversion of the \nworld. The obstacles to missionary enterprise were \nat that time insurmountable. He that surveys the \npresent state of the earth.\" writes Baxter to his friend \nEliot, \" and considers that scarcely a sixth part is \nChristian, and how small a part of them have murh \nof the power of godliness, will be ready to think that \nChrist has called almost all his chosen, and is ready \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n71 \n\n\n\nto forsake the earth, rather than that he intends us \nsucli blessed days as we desire.\" But \"what hath \nGod wrought How great the change in the state of \nreUgion, both at home and abroad, since the days of \nBaxter! Persecution has fled; religion has revived; \nthe missionary spirit has been enkindled; prayer has \nbeen offered ; money has been contributed ; commerce \nlias presented facilities for introducing the Gospel into \nall parts of the earth ; wide and effectual doors have \nbeen opened ; missionaries have gone forth to the help \nof the Lord against the mighty, and great success has \nattended their labors : so that we are evidently ap- \nproaching nearer to the period when the proclamation \nshall be made, \" The kingdoms of this world are be- \ncome the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ; \nand he shall reign for ever and ever.\" \n\nAbout this period the celebrated \" Savoy Confer- \nence\" was held. The object was to effect a reconcilia- \ntion between the different religious parties, that they \nmight be united in one common profession of Chris- \ntianity. At this conference Baxter took a prominent \npart. He was sincerely desirous for the peace of the \nchurch, and that an accommodation should ensue. \nFor this purpose he submitted various propositions, \nbut without effect : and, after some weeks' delibera- \ntion, the conference was broken up, without the least \nhope or possibility, under existing circumstances, of \nreconciliation. Baxter was charged by his antagonists \nwith \" speaking too boldly, and too long ;\" but this he \naccounted not a crime, but a virtue. \" I thought it,\" \nsays he, \" a cause I could cheerfully suffer for ; and \nshould as willingly be a martyr for charity as for faith.\" \n\nThis was the last public and authorized attempt to \npromote peace and unity by argument and persuasion. \n\n\n\n72 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nThenceforward other measures were tried to effect so \ndesirable an object, and, most unhappily, the diver- \ngence of the parlies became greater than ever. \n\nFrom the termination of the ''Savoy ConferencCj\" \nthe case of the dissidents became more trying and per- \nplexing. They were calumniated and charged with \npreaching sedition, or with forming plots against the \ngovernment. Baxter, whose loyalty was unimpeach- \nable, and whose ruling passion was a desire for peace, \nwhose very soul was love, appears to have been parti- \ncularly marked as an object for the shafts of calumny. \nHe says : \" So vehement was the endeavor in court, \ncity, and country, to make me contemptible and odi- \nous, as if the authors had thought that the safety either \nof church or state did lie upon it, and all woiuM have \nbeen safe if I were but vilified and hated. So that any \nstranger that had but heard and seen all this, would \nhave asked, AVhat monster of villany is this man? and \nwhat is the wickedness that he is guilty of? Yet was \nI never questioned to this day before a magistrate. \nNor do my adversaries charge me with any personal \nwrong to them ; nor did they ever accuse me of any \nheresy, nor much contemn my judgment, nor ever ac- \ncuse my life, but for preaching where another had been \nsequestered that was an insufficient reader, and for \npreaching to the soldiers of the parliament ; though \nnone of them knew my business there, nor the service \nthat I did them. These are all the crimes, besides my \nwritings, that I ever knew they charged my life with.\" \n\n\" Though no one accused me of any thing, nor spake \na word to me of it, being (they knew I had long been) \nnear a hundred miles off, yet did they defame me all \nover the land, as guilty of a plot ; and when men were \ntaken up and sent to prison, in other countries, it wa» \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n73 \n\n\n\nsaid to be for Baxter's plot : so easy was it, and so ne- \ncessary a thing it seemed then, to cast reproach upon \nmy name.\" \n\nDuring the two years of liis residence in London, \nprevious to his final ejectment, Baxter preached in va- \nrious places, as opportunities presented themselves. \n\nHe says : \" Being removed from my ancient flock \nin Worcestershire, and yet being uncertain whether I \nmight return to them or not, I refused to take any \nother charge, but preached up and down London, for \nnothing, according as I was invited. When I had done \nthus above a year, I thought a fixed place was better, \nand so I joined with Dr. Bates, at St. Dunstan's in the \nWest, in Fleet-street, and preached once a week, for \nwhich the people allowed me some maintenance. Be- \nfore this time I scarcely ever preached a sermon in \nthe city. \n\n\" The congregations being crowded, was that which \nprovoked envy to accuse me ; and one day the crowd \ndrove me frpm my place. In the midst of a sermon at \nDunstan's church, a little lime and dust, and perhaps \na piece of a brick or two, fell down in the steeple or \nbelfry, which alarmed the congregation with the idea \nthat the steeple and church were falling ; and indeed, \nin their confusion and haste to get away, the noise of \nthe feet in the galleries sounded like the falling of the \nstones. I sat still in the pulpit, seeing and pitying their \nterror ; and, as soon as I could be heard, I entreated \ntheir silence, and went on. The people were no sooner \nquieted, and got in again, and the auditory composed, \nbut a wainscot bench, near the communion-table, broke \nwith the weight of those who stood upon it; the ncis\" \nrenewed the fear, and they were worse disordered ihar. \nbefore ; so that one old woman was heard, at the churcu \n\nL. B. 7 \n\n\n\n74 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ndoor, asking forgiveness of God for not taking the f^rsi \nwarning, aiid promising, if God would deliver her tins \nonce, she would take heed of coming thither again. \nWhen they were again quieted I went on. But ine \nchurch having before an ill name, as very old, ana » ol- \nten, and dangerous, it was agreed to puii do\\vn all the \nroof and repair the building, which is now much more \ncommodious. \n\nWhile these repairs were made I preached out my \nquarter at Bride's church, in the other end of Fleet- \nstreet ; where the common prayer being used by tlie \ncurate before sermon, I occasioned abundance to be \nat common prayer, who before avoided it. And yet \naccusations against me still continued. \n\n\" On the week days, Mr. Ashurst, with about twenty \nmore citizens, desired me to preach a lecture in Milk- \nstreet, for which they allowed me forty pounds per an- \nnum, which I continued near a year, till we were all \nsilenced. And at the same time I preached once every \nLord's day at Blackfriars, where Mr. Gibbons, a judi- \ncious man, was minister. In ]Milk-street I took money, \nbecause it came not from the parishioners, but stran- \ngers, and so was no \\\\Toiig to the minister, 3Ir. Vincent, \na very holy, blameless man. But at Blackfriars I never \nlook a penn}'^, because it was the parishioners wlio \ncalled me, who would else be less able and ready to \nhelp their worthy pastor, who went to God by a con- \nsumption, a little after he was silenced. At these two \nchurches I ended the course of my public ministry, \nunless God cause an undeserved resurrection.\" \n\n\" Shortly after our disputation at the Savoy, I went \nto Rickmansworth, in Hertfordshire, and preached \nthere but once, upon Malt. 22 : 12, ' And he was speech- \nless ;' where I spake not a word that was any nearer \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n75 \n\n\n\nkin to sedition, or that had any greater tendency to \nprovoke them, than by showing ' that wicked men, \nand the refusers of grace, however tliey may now have \nmany things to say to excuse their sins, will at last be \nspeechless before God.\" Yet did the bishop of Wor- \ncester tell me, when he silenced me, that the bishop \nof London had showed him letters from one of the \nliearers, assuring him tliat I preached seditiously : so \nlittle security was any man's innocency to his reputa- \ntion, if he had but one auditor that desired to get fa- \nvor by accusing him. \n\n\" Shortly after my return to London I went mto \nWorcestershire, to try whether it were possible to have \nany honest terms from the reading vicar there, that I \nmight preach to my former flock; but when I had \npreached twice or thrice, he denied me liberty to preach \nany more. I offered him to take my lecture, which he \nwas bound to allow me, under a bond of five hundred \npounds, but he refused it. I next offered him to be his \ncurate, and he refused it. I next offered him to preach \nfor nothing, and he refused it. And lastly, I desired \nleave but once to administer the Lord's supper to the \npeople, and preach my farewell sermon to ihem, but \nhe would not consent. At last I understood that he was \ndirected by his superiors to do what he did. But Mr. \nBaldwin, an able preacher whom I left there, was yet \npermitted. \n\n\"At that time, my aged father lying in great pain \nof the stone and strangury, I went to visit him, twen- \nty miles further. And while I was there Mr. Baldwin \ncame to me, and told me that he also was forbidden to \npreach. We both returned to Kidderminster.\" \n\n\" Having parted with my dear flock, I need not say \nwith mutual tears, I left Mr. Baldwin to live privately \n\n\n\n76 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\namong them, and oversee them in my stead, and \nthem from house to house ; advising them, notwith- \nstanding all the injuries they had received, and all the \nfailings of the ministers that preached to them, and \nthe defects of the present way of worship, that yet they \nshould keep to the public assemblies, and make use of \nsucli helps as might be had in public, togethei with \ntheir private helps.-' \n\nThe great crisis, which was foreseen by many, had \nnow arrived. The parliamentary attempt to promote \necclesiastical peace, by the \" Act of Uniformity,\" de- \nmanding an oath of absolute subjection to every requi- \nsition of the church, ended hi the ejectment of two \nthousand of the best and holiest ministers in the land \nfrom their livings and labors. Baxter determined on \nnot taking the oath, and hence relinquished public \npreaching as soon as the act was passed, and before it \ncame into operation. His reason for so doing, he states \nto be, that as his example was looked to by many \nthroughout the country, it might be known that he \ncould not conform. \n\nIn the earlier period of his ministry Baxter had re- \nsolved not to enter into the married state, that he might \npursue his pastoral and ministerial labors with less \nanxiety and interruption. After his ejectment, how- \never, having no public charge, and seeing little pros- \npect of ever being able to resume his ministerial en- \ngagements, he deemed himself at liberty, and that it \nwould conduce to his comfort, to be united in the bonds \nof matrimony. He married Miss Charlton, a lady whc, \nthough much younger than himself, proved to be in \nevery respect a suitable partner for this eminent saint. \n\nHis marriage excited much curiosity and remark \nthroughout the kingdom ; and \" I think,\" he observes, \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n77 \n\n\n\n\" the king's marriage was scarce more talked of than \nmine.\" He and his wife lived a very unsettled life ; \nbeing obliged, on account of persecutions, frequently \nto remove from one place of residence to another. \n\nHe says : \" Having lived three years and more in \nLondon since I left Kidderminster, but only three \nquarters of a year since my marriage, and finding it \nneither agree with my health or studies, the one being \nbrought very low, and the other interrupted, and all \npublic service being at an end, I betook myself to live \nin the country, at Acton, that I might set myself to \nwriting, and do what service I could for posterity, and \nlive, as much as possibly I could, out of the world. \nThither I came, 1663, July 14, where I followed my \nstudies privately in quietness, and went every Lord's \n-day to the public assembly, when there was any preach- \ning or catechising, and spent the rest of the day with \nmy family, and a few poor neighbors that came in ; \nspending now and then a day in London. And the \nnext year, 1664, I had the company of divers godly \nfaithful friends that tabled with me in summer, with \nwhom I solaced myself with much content.\" \n\n\" On March 26, being the Lord's day, 1665, as I was \npreaching in a private house, where we received the \nLord's supper, a buHet came in at the window among \nus, an'! passed by me, and narrowly missed the head \nof a sister-in-law of mine that was there, and hurt \nnone of us ; and we could never discover whence it \ncame. \n\n\"In June following, an ancient gentlewoman, with \nher sons and daughter, came four miles in her coach, \nto hear me preach in my family, as out of special re- \nspect to me. It happened that, contrary to our cus- \nlom, we let her knock long at the door, and did not \n\n\n\n78 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nopen it; and so a second time, when she had gone \ndway and came again; and the third time she came, \nwe had ended. She M'as so earnest to know when she \nmight come again to hear me, that I appointed her a \ntime. But before she came, I had secret intelligence, \nfrom one that was nigh her, that she came with a \nheart exceeding full of malice, resolving, if possible, \nto do me what mischief she could by accusation ; and \n50 that danger was avoided.\" \n\nThe -'plague of London-' now burst forth with tre- \nmendous fury, on which Baxter thus remarks: \n\n\" And now, after all the breaches on the churches, \nthe ejection of the ministers, and impenitency under \nall, wars, and plague, and danger of famine began all \nat once on us. War with the Hollanders, which yet \ncontinues ; and the driest winter, spring, and summer \nthat ever man alive knew, or our forefathers men- \ntion of late ages; so that the grounds were burnt, like \nthe highways, where the caiile should have fed ! The \nmeadow grounds, where I lived, bare but four loads of \nliay, which before bare forty. The plague has seized \non the most famous and most excellent city in Chris- \ntendom, and at this time eight thousand die of all \ndiseases in a week. It has scattered and consumed \nthe inhabitants, multitudes being dead and fled. The \ncalamities and cries of the diseased and impoverished \nare not to be conceived by those that are absent from \nthem I Every man is a terror to his neighbor and him- \nself ; for God, for our sins, is a terror to us all. 0 ! how \nis London, the place which God has honored with his \nGospel above all the places of the earth, laid in low \nhorrors, and wasted almost to desolation by the wrath \nof God, whom England hath contemned ; and a God- \nhating generation are consumed in their sins, and the \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n79 \n\n\n\nrighteous are also taken away, as from greater evu yet \nto come.\" \n\n\" The number that died in London alone was about \na hundred thousand. The richer sort removing out of \nthe city, the greatest blow fell on the poor. At first, so \nfew of the most religious were taken away, that, ac- \ncording to the mode of too many such, they began to \nbe puffed up, and boast of the great difference which \nGod made ; but quickly after, they all fell alike. Yet \nnot many pious ministers were taken away : I remem- \nber but three, who were all of my own acquaintance. \n\n\" It is scarcely possible for people that live in a time \nof health and security, to apprehend the dreadfulness \nof that pestilence ! How fearful people were, thirty \nor forty, if not a hundred miles from London, of any \nthing that they bought from any mercer's or draper's \nshop ! or of any goods that were brought to them ! or \nof any person that came to their houses ! How they \nwould shut their doors against their friends ! and if a \nman passed over the fields, how one would avoid an- \nother, as we did in the time of wars ; and how every \nman was a terror to another ! O how sinfully un- \nthankful are we for our quiet societies, habitations, \nand health !\" \n\nMany of the ejected ministers seized the opportunity \nof preaching in the neglected or deserted pulpits, and \nin the public places of resort, to the terror-stricken in- \nhabitants of London, and blessed results followed. \n\" Those heard them one day often, that were sick the \nnext, and quickly died. The face of death so awakened \nboth preachers and hearers, that preachers exceeded \nthemselves in fervent preaching, and the people crowd- \ned constantly to hear them ; and all was done witii \nsuch great seriousness that, through the blessing of \n\n\n\n80 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nGod, many were converted from their carelessness, \nimpenitency, and j'outhful lusts and vanities ; and re- \nligion took such a hold on the people's hearts as could \nnever afterwards be loosed.\" \n\nAVhen the plague reached Acton, in July, Mr. Bax- \nter retired to Hampden, in Bucks, where he continued \nwith his friend Mr. Hampden till the following March. \nThe plague, he says, '* having ceased on March 1st fol- \nlowing, I returned home, and found the churchyard \nlike a ploughed field with graves, and many of my \nneighbors dead ; but my house, near the churchyard, \nuninfected, and that part of my family which I left \nthere, all safe, through the great mercy of God.** \n\nScarcely had the plague ceased its ravages before \nthe great fire commenced its destructive career in Lon- \ndon. Churches in great numbers were destroyed in the \ngeneral conflagration. The zealous, though silenced \nwatchmen, ventured, amid the ashes of a ruined city, \nto urge the inhabitants to flee from the wrath to \ncome,\" and to seek, in their impoverished condition, \n\nthe unsearchable riches of Christ.*' \n\nThe distress occasioned by these calamities was \ngreat. \" Many thousands were cast into utter want and \nbeggary, and many thousands of the formerly rich \nwere disabled from relieving them.\" To the friends of \nChrist in London, the silenced ministers in the coun- \ntry had been accustomed to look for assistance in their \ndistresses. By these providences their resources were \nin a measure dried up. But, though enduring dread- \nful privations, few, if any, were suffered to perish \nthrough want. Baxter says : \n\nWhilst I was living at Acton, as long as the act \nagainst conventicles was in force, though I preached \nto my family, few of the town came to hear me. pan- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n81 \n\n\n\nly because they thought it would endanger me, and \npartly for fear of suffering themselves, but especially \nbecause they were an ignorant poor people, and had \nno appetite for such things. But when the act was \nexpired, there came so many that I wanted room ; and \nwiien once they had come and heard, they afterwards \ncame constantly ; insomuch that in a little time there \nwas a great number of them that seemed very serious- \nly affected with the things they heard; and almost all \nthe town, besides multitudes from Brentford and the \nneighboring places, came.\" \n\nHe attended the services of the church, and between \nthe interval of service preached in his own house to \nas many as chose to come. This gave umbrage to the \nminister. \" It pleased the parson,\" says Baxter, \" that \nI came to church, and brought others with me; but \nhe was not able to bear the sight of people's crowding \ninto my house, thouj^h they heard him also; so that, \nthough he spoke kindly to me, and we lived in seem- \ning love and peace while he was there, yet he could \nnot long endure it. And when I had brought the peo- \nple to church to hear him, he would fall upon them \nwith groundless reproaches, as if he had done it pur- \nposely to drive them away ; and yet thought that my \npreaching to them, because it was in a private house, \ndid all the mischief, though he never accused me of \nany thing that I spake. For I preached nothing but \nChristianity and submission to our superiors, faith, re- \npentance, hope, love, humility, self-denial, meekness, \npatience, and obedience.\" \n\nDuring his residence at Acton, Baxter became ac- \nquainted with Lord Chief Justice Hale, who occupied \nthe house adjoining his own. With his simplicity, in- \ntegrity, piety, and learning, he was delighted and \n\n\n\n82 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncharmed. He denominates him \" the pillar of justice, \nthe refuge of the subject who feared oppression, and \none of the greatest honors of iiis majesty's govern- \nment.\" His lordship, too, appears to have been equal- \nly interested in the character of his neighbor. His \navowed esteem and respect for the despised noncon- \nformist was a means of encouraging and strengthen- \ning the hands of Baxter. \" When the people crowded \nin and out of my house to hear, he openly showed me \nsuch great respect before them at the door, and never \nspake a word against it, as was no small encourage- \nment to the common people to go on ; though the \nother sort muttered that a judge should seem so far to \ncountenance that which they took to be against the \nlaw.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\n\n\nHI.S PERSECU'nONS, TRIAL, AND DEATH. \n\nAt length Baxter's preaching at Acton could no \nlonger be connived at. Information was laid against \nhim, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. \nHe was taken before two justices of the peace. \" When \nI came,\" he writes, \" they shut out all persons from \nthe room, and would not give leave for any one per- \nson, no, not their own clerk or servant, or the consta- \nble, to hear a word that was said between us. Then \nthey told me that I was convicted of keeping conven- \nticles contrary to law, and so they would tender me \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n83 \n\n\n\nthe Oxford oath. I desired my accusers might come \nface to face, and that I might see and speak with the \nwitnesses who testified tliat I kept conventicles con- \ntrary to the law, which I denied, as far as I under- \nstood law ; but they would not grant it. I pressed that \nI might speak in the hearing of some witnesses, and \nnot in secret ; for I supposed theft they were my judges, \nand that their presence and business made the place \na place of judicature, where none should be excluded, \nor at least some should be admitted. But I could not \nprevail. Had I resolved on silence, they were resolved \nto proceed ; and I thought a Christian should rather \nsubmit to violence, and give place to injuries, than \nstand upon his right, when it will give others occasion \nto account him obstinate. I asked them whether I \nmight freely speak for myself, and they said yea ; but, \nwhen I began to speak, still interrupted me, and put \nme by. But, with much importunity, I got them once \nto hear me, while I told them why I took not my \nmeeting to be contrary to law, and why the Oxford \nact concerned me not, and they had no power to put \nthat oath on me by the act ; but all the answer I could \nget was, 'That they were satisfied of what they did.' \nAnd when, among other reasonings against their \ncourse, I told them, though Christ's ministers had, in \nmany ages, been men esteemed and used as we now \nare, and their afflicters had insulted over them, the \nprovidence of God had still so ordered it that the \nnames and memory of their silencers and afflicters \nhave been left to posterity for a reproach, insomucii \nthat I wondered that those who fear not God, and \ncare not for their own or the people's souls, should \nyet be so careless of their fame, when honor seems so \ngreat a matter with them. To which Ross answered, \n\n\n\n84 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nthat lie desired no greater honor to his name, tlian \nliiat it should be remembered of him that he did this \nagainst me, and such as I, which he was doing.\" \n\nThe result of this interview was, that Baxter was \nfully committed, for six months, to the New Prison, \nClcrkcnwell. He begged that his liberty might be \ngranted till the following Monday ; but as he would \nnot promise not to preach on the intervening Lord's \nday, his request was denied. \n\nThe inhabitants of Acton were grieved at the loss of \ntheir neighbor, and the more so, as the incumbent of \nthe parish was the means of his imprisonment. \" The \nwhole town of Acton were greatly exasperated against \nthe dean when I was going to prison, insomuch that \never since they abhorred him as a selfish persecutor. \nNor could he devise to do more to hinder the success \nof his (seldom) preaching there. But it was his own \nchoice: 'Let them hate me, so they fear me.' And so \n] finally left that place, being grieved most that Satan \nhad prevailed to stop the poor people in such hopeful \nbeginnings of a common reformation, and that I was \nto be deprived of the exceeding grateful neighborhood \nof the Lord Chief Justice Hale, who could scarce re- \nfrain tears wiien he heard of the first warrant for my \nappearance. \n\n\"My imprisonment was, at present, no great suf- \nfering to me, for I had an honest jailer, who showed \nme all the kindness he could. I had a large room, \nand the liberty of walking in a fair garden; and my \nwife was never so cheerful a companion to me as in \nprison, and was very much against my seeking to be \nreleased ; and she had brought so many necessaries, \nthat we kept house as contentedly and as comfortably \nas at home, though in a narrower room ; and I had \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n85 \n\n\n\nthe sight of more of my friends in a day, than I had \nat home in half a year.\" \n\nEfforts were made, by his friends, to procure his re- \nlease, which, in consequence of some informalities in \nhis commitment, were successful. His reflections on \nhis imprisonment show his piety and submission. \n\n\"While I stayed in prison, I saw somewhat to \nblame myself for, and somewhat to wonder at others \nfor, and somewhat to advise my visitors about. \n\n\"I blamed myself that I was no more sensible of \nthe spiritual part of my affliction; such as the inter- \nruption of my work among the poor people from whom \nI was removed, and the advantage Satan had got \nagainst them, and the loss of my own public liberty, \nfor worshiping in the assemblies of God's people. \n\n\"I marvelled at some who suffered more than I, as \nMr. Rutherford, when he was confined to Aberdeen, \nthat their sufferings occasioned them such great joys \nas they express; which surely was from the free grace \nof God, to encourage others by their example, and not \nthat their own impatience made them need it much \nmore than at other times. For surely so small a suf- \nfering needs not a quarter of the patience which \nmany poor nonconforming ministers, and thousands \nof others need, that are at liberty; whose own houses, \nthrough poverty, are made far worse to them than my \nprison was to me. \n\n\"I found reason to entreat my Acton neighbors \nnot to let their passion against their parson, on my \naccount, hinder them from a due regard to his doc- \ntrine, nor from any of the duty which they owed him ; \nand to blame some M^ho aggravated my sufferings, \nand to tell them that I had no mind to fancy myself \nhurt before I felt it. I used, at home to confine my- \n\n\n\n86 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nself voluntari]}'^ almost as much. I had ten-fold more \npublic life here, and converse witii my friends, tliaii \nI had at home. If I had been to take lodgings at Lon- \ndon for six months, and had not known that this \nhad been a prison, and had knocked at tlie door and \nasked for rooms, I should as soon have taken this \nwhich I was put into, as most in town, save only for \nthe interruption of my sleep. \n\n\" I found cause to desire of my brethren, that, when \nthey suffered, they wouid remember tliat the design of \nSatan was more against their souls than their bodies j \nthat it was not the lecist of his hopes to destroy the \nlove due to those by whom they surfered ; to render \nour superiors odious to the people; and to make us \nlake such a poor suffering as this for a sign of true \ngrace, instead of faith, hope, love, mortification, and a \nheavenly mind ; and that the loss ef one grain of love \nwas worse than a long imprisonment. Also that it \nmuch more concerned us to be sure that we deserve \nnot suffering, than that we be delivered from it ; and \nto see tliat we wrong not our superiors, than that they \nwrong not us ; seeing we are not near so much hurt \nby their severities as we are by our sins. Some told \nme that they hoped this would make me stand a little \nfurther from the prelates and their worship than I had \ndone. To whom I answered, that I wondered that \nthey should think that a prison should change my \njudgment. I rather thought now it was my duty to \nset a stricter watch upon my passions, lest they should \npervert my judgment, and carry me into extremes in \nopposition to those who afflicted me. If passion made \nme lose my love, or my religion, the loss would be \nmy own. And truth did not change because I was \nin a jaiL\" \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. 87 \n\nHis time was now chiefly occupied in writing and \npublishing various works on controversial and experi- \nmental diviuity, and in making some attempts to pro- \ncure a union between the Presbyterians and Indepen- \ndents. He frequently conversed and corresponded \nwith Dr. Owen on this subject. Owen requested Bax- \nter to draw up a scheme ol\" agreement. Tliis scheme \nOwen attentively considered, but could not adopt. \nBaxter's attempts to unite all parties satislied none. \n\nBaxter, with a few others of tlie nonconformists, de- \nfended the practice of occasional attendance and com- \nmunion in the parish churclies where the Gospel was \npreached. It was, in consequence, currently reported \nat this time, that he had actually conformed. He was \noffered preferment in Scotland by the king. A mitre, \na professor's gown, or a surplice, was presented to his \nchoice. But he declined accepting his majesty's offer. \nHis refusal is contained in his letter to the Earl of Lau- \nderdale, through whom the offer was presented. \n\n\"My Lord, — Being deeply sensible of your lord- \n.ship's favors, and in special of your liberal offers for \nmy entertainment in Scotland, I humbly return you \nmy very hearty thanks. But these considerations for- \nbid me to entertain any hopes or further thoughts of \nsuch a remove : \n\n\" 1. The experience of my great weakness and de- \ncay of strength, and particularly of this last winters \npain, and how much worse I am in winter tlian in \nsummer, doth fully persuade me that I should live but \na little while in Scotland, and that in a disabled, use- \nless condition, rather keeping my bed than the pulpit. \n\n\"2. I am engaged in writing a book, which, if I \ncould hope to live to finish, is almost all the service \n\n\n\n88 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nthat I expect to do God and his church more in the \nworld — a Latin Methodus Theologiae ; and I can hard- \nly hope to live so long, it requiring near a year's labor \nmore. Now, if I should go and spend that one half \nyear, or year, which should finish that work, in tra- \nvel, and the trouble of such a removal, and then leave \nmy intended work undone, it would disappoint me of \nthe ends of my life ; for I live only for work, and there- \nfore should remove only for work, and not for wealth \nand honor, if ever I remove. \n\n\" 3. If I were there, all that I could hope for were \nliberty to preach the Gospel of salvation, and especially \nin some university among young scholars. But I hear \nthat you have enough already for this work, that are \nlike to do it better than I can. \n\n\" 4. 1 have a family, and in it a mother-in-law, eighty \nyears of age, of honorable extraction and great worth, \nwhom I must not neglect, and who cannot travel. And \nit is to such a one as I, so great a business to remove \na family, and all our goods and books so far, as deters \nme from thinking of it, having paid so dear for remo- \nvals tliese eight years as I have done, and being but \nyesterday settled in a house which I have newly taken, \nand that with great trouble and loss of time. \n\n*• All this concurs to deprive me of this benefit of \nyour lordship's favor. But, my lord, there are other \nfruits of it, which I am not altogether hopeless of re- \nceiving. When I am commanded to pray for kings, \nand all in authority, I am allowed the ambition of this \npreferment, which is all that ever I aspired after : ' to \nlive a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and \nhonesty.' \n\n\" I am weary of the noise of contentious revilers, \nand have often had thoughts to go into a foreign land. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n89 \n\n\n\nif I could find any, where I might have a healthful air \nand quietness, that I might but live and die in peace. \nWhen I sit in a corner, and meddle with nobody, and \nhope the world will forget that I am alive, court, cit}', \nand country is still filled with clamors against me; \nand when a preacher wants preferment, his way is to \npreach or write a book against the nonconformists, \nand me by name. So that tlie press and pulpits of \nsome, utter bloody invectives against myself, as if my \npeace were inconsistent with the kingdom's happiness. \nAnd never did my eyes read such impudent un.lruths, \nin matter of fact, as these writings contain ; and they \ncry out for answers and reasons of my nonconformi- \nty, while they know the law forbids me to answer \nthem unhcensed. I expect not that any favor or jus- \ntice of my superiors should cure any of this. But a \nfew things I would desire : \n\n\" 1. If I might but be heard to speak for myself, be- \nfore I be judged by them, and such things be believed. \nFor to contemn the judgment of my rulers is to dis- \nhonor them. \n\n\" 2. If I might live quietly to follow my private study, \nand might once again have the use of my books, whicli \nI have not seen these ten years, still paying for a room \nin which they stand at Kidderminster, where they are \neaten with worms and rats, having no security for my \nquiet abode in any place long enough to encourage me \nto send for them. And if I might have the liberty that \nevery beggar has, to travel from town *o town ; I mean, \nbut to London, to oversee the press, when any thing \nof mine is licensed for it. And, \n\n\"3. If I be sent to Newgate for preaching Christ's \nGospel, (for I dare not sacrilegiously renounce my call- \ning, to which I am consecrated,) that I may have the fa- \n\nL. B. 8* \n\n\n\n90 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nvor of a better prison, where I may but walk and write. \n\n\" These I should take as very great favors, and ac- \nknowledge your lordship my benefactor, if you pro- \ncure them. For I will not so much injure you as to \ndesire, or my reason as to expect, any greater things ; \nno, not the benefit of the law. I think I broke no law \nin any of the preachings which I am accused of; and \nI most confidently think that no law imposes on me \nthe Oxford oath, any more than any conformable mi- \nnister; and I am past doubting the present mittimus \nfor my imprisonment is quite without law. But if \nthe justices think otherwise now, or at any time, I \nknow no remedy. I have yet a license to preach pub- \nlicly in London diocess, under the archbishop's own \nhand and seal, which is yet valid for occasional ser- \nmons, though not for lectures or cures ; but I dare not \nuse it, because it is in the bishop's power to recall it. \nWould but the bishop, who, one would think, should \nnot be against the preaching of the Gospel, not recall \nmy license, I could preach occasional sermons, which \nwould absolve my conscience from all obligations to \nprivate preaching. For it is not maintenance that I ex- \npect; I have never received a farthing for my preach- \ning, to my knowledge, since May 1, 1662. I thank God \nI have food and raiment without being chargeable to \nany man, which is all that I desire, had I but leave to \npreach for nothing, and that only where there is a no- \ntorious necessity. I humbly crave your lordship's par- \ndon for this tediousness, and again return you my very \ngreat thanks for your great favors ; remaining, &c. \n\n\" June 24, 1670. Richard Baxter.\" \n\nHe says : \" On October 11, 1672, 1 fell into a dan- \ngerous fit of sickness, which God, in his wonted mer \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n91 \n\n\n\ncy, in time so far removed as to return me to some \ncapacity of service. \n\n\" I had till now forborne, for several reasons, to seek \na license for preaching from the king, upon the tole- \nration. But when all others had taken theirs, and \nwere settled in London and other places, as they could \nget opportunity, I delayed no longer, but sent to seek \none, on condition I might have it without the title of \nIndependent, Presbyterian, or any other party, but \nonly as a nonconformist. And before I sent. Sir Thomas \nPlayer, chamberlain of London, had procured it me \nwithout my knowledge or endeavor. I had sought \nnone hitherto. \n\n\" 1. Because I was unwilling to be, or seem any \ncause of that way of liberty, if a better might have \nbeen had, and therefore would not meddle in it. \n\n\" 2. I lived ten miles from London, and thought it \nnot just to come and set up a congregation there, till \nthe ministers had fully settled theirs, who had borne \nthe burden there in the times of the raging plague and \nfire, and other calamities, lest I should draw away \nany of their auditors, and hinder their maintenance. \n\n\" 3. I perceived that no one, that ever I heard of \ntill mine, could get a license, unless he would be en- \ntitled in it, a Presbyterian, Independent, or of some \nsect. \n\n\" The 19th of November was the first day, after ten \nyears' silence, that I preached in a tolerated public \nassembly, though not yet tolerated in any consecrated \nchurch, but only, against law, in my own house. \n\n\" Some merchants set up a Tuesday's lecture in \nLondon, to be kept by six ministers at Pinner's Hall, \nallowing them twenty shillings a piece each sermon, \nof whom they chose me to be one.\" \n\n\n\n92 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n\" January 24, 1672-3, I Degaii a Friday lecture at \nMr. Turner's church in New-street, near Fetter-lane, \nwith great convenience and God's encouraging bless- \ning ; but I never took a penny of money for it of any \none. And on the Lord's days I had no congregation \nto preach to, but occasionally to any that desire me, \nbeing unwilling to set up a church and become the \npastor of any, or take maintenance, in this distracted \nand unsettled way, unless further changes shall mani- \nfest It to be my duty. Nor did I ever yet administer \nthe Lord's supper to any one person, but to my old \nflock at Kidderminster.\" \n\n\"On February 20th I took my house in Bloomsbury, \nin London, and removed thither with my family; God \nhaving mercifully given me three years' great peace \namong quiet neighbors at Totteridge, and much more \nhealth and ease than I expected, and some opportuni* \nty to serve him.\" \n\nIn this situation he continued for some time, em- \nploying his flying pen and his unwearied efforts to pro- \nmote the peace of the churches and to instruct and \nbless mankind. In April, 1674, he writes, \" God has \nso much increased my languishing, and laid me so \nlow, that I have reason to think that my time on earth \nwill not be long. And O how good has the will of God \nproved hitherto to me ! And will it not be best at last? \nExperience causes me to say to his praise, ' Great \npeace have they that love his law, and nothing shall \noffiend them;' and though my flesh and heart fail, God \nis the rock of my heart and my portion for ever. \n\n\" At this time came out my book called 'The Poor \nMan's Family Book,' which the remembrance of the \ngreat use of Mr. Dent's 'Plain Man's Pathway to \nHeaven,' now laid by, occasioned me to write for \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n93 \n\n\n\npoor country families, who cannot buy or read many \nbooks.\" \n\nAnxiously bent on doing good, and encouraged by \nthe reception and success his \"Poor Man's Family \nBook\" met with, he prepared several other works for \nthe promotion and increase of family religion. Ho \njustly believed that domestic piety was of the utmost \nimportance for the maintenance and progress of Chris- \ntianity. To promote \" household religion \" he employ- \ned all his energies while at Kidderminster. In his \"Ro \nformed Pastor,\" he urges ministers seriously to con \nsider the subject. He says : \" The life of religion, and \nthe welfare and glory, both of the church and state, \ndepend much on family government and duty. If wo \nsuffer the neglect of this, we shall undo all. What are \nwe like to do ourselves for reforming a congregation, \nif all the work be cast on us alone, and masters of fa- \nmilies neglect that necessary duty of their own by \nwhich they are bound to help us ? If any good be be- \ngun by the ministry in any soul, a careless, prayerless, \nworldly family, is likely to stifle it, or very much hin- \nder it; whereas, if you could but get the rulers of fa- \nmilies to do their duty, to take up the work where \nyou left it, and help it on, what abundance of good \nmight be done ! I beseech you, therefore, if you de- \nsire the reformation and welfare of your people, do all \nyou can to promote family religion.\" \n\nHe prosecuted his Master's work with unwearied \nzeal, though suffering great bodily affliction, and ex- \nposed to much vexatious and embarrassing opposition. \n\nHe says : \" Taking it to be my duty to preach while \ntoleration continues, I removed, the last spring, to \nLondon, where my diseases, increasing this winter, a \nconstant head-ache added to the rest, and continuing \n\n\n\n94 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nstronor for about half a year, constrained me to cease \nmy Friday's lecture, and an afternoon sermon on the \nLord's days in my house, to my grief; and to preach \nonly one sermon a week, at St. James's market-house \nwhere some had hired an inconvenient place. But i \nliad great encouragement to labor there, because O) \nthe notorious necessity of the people; it being tiie ha- \nbitation of the most ignorant, aiiieistical, and popish \nabout London ; and because, beyond my expectation, \nthe people generally proved exceedingly willing, and \nattentive, and tractable, and gave me great hopes o', \nmuch success.\" \n\n\" On July 5, 1G74, at our meeting over St. James> \nmarket-house, God vouchsafed us a great deliveiance. \nA main beam, before weakened by the weight of the \npeople, so cracked, that three times they ran ifx terroi \nout of the room, thinking it was faUing ; but lemem- \nbering the like at Dunsian's in the west, I reproved \ntheir fear as causeless. But the next day, takmg up \nthe boards, we found that two rents in the beam wer& \nso great that it was a wonder of Providence that ihu \nfloor had not fallen, and the roof with it, to the de- \nstruction of multitudes. The Lord make us thankful!' \n\nIt pleased God to give me marvellous encourage \nment in my preaching at St. James's. The crack having, \nfrightened away most of the richer sort, especially th». \nwomen, most of the congregation were youiig men, \nof the most capable age, who heard with great atien \nlion ; and many that had not come to church for many \nyears, manifested so great a change, (some papiotfi \nand divers others, returning public thanks to God (<u \ntheir conversion) as made all my charge and trouck- \neasy to me. An. )ng all the popish, rude, and ignoiaa* \npeople who were inhabitants of those parts, we iiad \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n95 \n\n\n\nscarcely any that opened their mouths agahist us, and \nthat did nut speak well of the preaching of the word \namong them ; though, when I came first thither, the \nmost knowing inhabitants assured me that some of \nthe same persons wished my death. Among the ruder \nsort, a common reformation was noticed in the place, \nin their conversation as well as in their judgments.\" \n\n\"The dangerous crack over the market-house at \nSt. James's, made many desire that I had a larger \nsafer place for meeting. And though my own dullness, \nand great backwardness to troublesome business, made \nme very averse to so great an undertaking, judging \nthat, it being in the face of the court, it would never \nbe endured, yet the great and incessant importunity \nof many, out of a fervent desire of the good of souls, \nconstrained me to undertake it. And when it wa^s \nalmost finished, in Oxendon-street, Mr. Henry Coven- \ntry, one of his majesty's principal secretaries, who had \na house joining to it, and was a member of parliament, \nspake twice against it in the parliament ; but no one \nseconded him.\" \n\n\"And that we might do the more good, my wife \nurged the building of another meeting place in Blooms- \nbury, for Mr. Reed, to be furthered by my sometimes \nhelping him : the neighborhood being very full of peo- \nple, rich and poor. \n\n\" I was so long v/earied with keeping my doors shut \nagainst them that came to distrain on my goods for \npreaching, that I was induced to go from my house, \nand to sell all my goods, and to hide my library first, \nand afterwards to sell it. So that if books had been \nmy treasure, and I valued little more on earth, I had \nbeen now without a treasure. About twelve years I \nwas driven a hundred miles from them ; and when I \n\n\n\n96 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nhad paid dear for the carriage, after two or three years \n1 was forced to sell Iheiii. And the prelates, to liinder \nme from preaching, deprived me also of these private \ncomforts. But God saw that lliey were my snare. We \nbrought nothing into the world, and we must carry \nnothing out. \n\nI was the more willing to part with goods, books, \nand all, that I might have nothing to be distrained, \nand so go on to preach. And accordingly removing \nmy dwelling to the new chapel which I had built, I \npurposed to venture there to preach, there being forty \nthousand persons in the parish, as is supposed, more \nthan can hear in the parish church, who have no place \nto go to for God's public worship. So that I set not \nup church against church, but preached to those that \nmust else have none, being unwilling that London \nshould turn atheists, or live worse than infidels. But \nwhen I had preached there but once, a resolution was \ntaken to surprise me the next day, and send me for \nsix months to the common jail, upon the act for the \nOxford oath. Not knowing of this, it being the hottest \npart of the year, I agreed to go for a few weeks into \nthe country, twenty miles oif. But the night before I \nshould go, I fell so ill that I was induced to send to \ndisappoint both the coach and my intended compan- \nion, Mr. Silvester. And when I was thus fully resolved \nto stay, it pleased God, after the ordinary coach hour, \nthat three men, from three parts of the city, met at my \nhouse accidentally, just at the game time, almost to a \nminute, of whom, if any one had not been there, I had \nnot gone, namely, the coachman again to urge me, \nMr. Silvester, whom I had put off, and Dr. Coxe, who \ncompelled me, and told me he would carry me into \nthe coach. It proved a special merciful providence of \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n97 \n\n\n\nGod ; for after one week of languishing and pain, I \nhad nine weeks greater ease than ever I expected in \nthis world, and greater comfort in my work. My good \nfriend Richard Berisford, Esq. clerk of the exchequer, \nwhose importunity drew me to his house, spared no \ncost, labor, or kindness for my health or service.\" \n\nBaxter was now constantly harassed with informa- \ntions, fines, and warrants of distress, but he bore them \nall with astonishing meekness and patience. He endea- \nvored to convince and convert the informers and ofR- \ncens, who, on several occasions, came to apprehend \nhim. In some cases his exhortations were successful, \nil not to their actual conversion, at least to induce them \nto relinquish their persecuting practices. \n\nA striking instance of his placable and forgiving dis- \nposition is given in the following extract. \" Keting, \nthe informer, being commonly detested for prosecuting \nme, was cast into jail for debt, and wrote to me to en- \ndeavor his deliverance, which I did; and in his letters \nsays, 'Sir, I assure you I do verily believe that God \nlias bestowed all this affliction on me because I was \nso vile a wretch as to trouble you. And I assm^e you \nI never did a thing in my life that has so much trou- \nbled myself as that did. I pray God to forgive me. And \ntruly, I do not think of any that went that way to work, \nthat ever God would favor with his mercy. And truly, \nwithout great mercy from God, I do not think that \never I shall thrive or prosper. And I hope you will be \npleased to pray to God for me.'\" \n\nBaxter considered that the \" vows of God were upon \nhim,\" and that he must continue to preach wherever \nDivine providence opened a door for the purpose. His \nobligations to God he considered superior to those by \n■which he was bound to obey the ordinances of man • \nL. B. 9 \n\n\n\n98 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nand therefore, though forbidden by law, and in despite \nof persecution, be continued to preach the Gospel to \nhis ignorant and perishing countrymen. \n\nHe says: \"Being driven from home, and having an \nold license of the bishop's yet in force, by the counte- \nnance of that, and the great industry of Mr. Berisford, \nI had leave and invitation for ten Lord's days to preach \nin the churches round about. The first that I preached \nin, after thirteen years' ejection and prohibition, was \nRickmanworth, and after that, at Sarratt, at King's \nLangley, at Chesham, at Charlfont, and at Amersham, \nand that often twice a-day. Those heard who had not \ncome to church for seven years; and two or three \nthousand heard, where scarcely a hundred were wont \nto come ; and with so much attention and willingness, \nas gave me very great hopes that I never spalve to \nthem in vain. And thus soul and body had these spe- \ncial mercies.\" \n\n\" When I had been kept a whole year from preach- \ning in the chapel which I built, on tlie IGlh of April, \n1676, I began in another, in a tempestuous time; such \nwas the necessity of the parish of St. Martin's, where \nabout 60,000 souls have no church to go to, nor any \npublic worship of God ! How long, Lord !\" \n\n\" Being denied forcibly the use of the chapel which \nI had built, I was forced to let it stand empty, and pay \nthirty pounds per annum for the ground-rent myself, \nand glad to preach for notliing, near it, at a chapel \nbuilt by another, formerly in Swallow-street, because \nit was among the same poor people that had no \npreaching.\" \n\nInterruptions and informations were so numerous at \nSwallow-street that he was obliged to discontinue his \nlabors there. It pleagcd God to take away, by tor- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n99 \n\n\n\nment of the stone, that excellent faithful minister, Mr. \nThomas Wadsworth, in Soiuhwark ; and just when I \nwas thus kept out at Swallow-street, his flock invited \nme to South wark, where, though I refused to be their \npastor, I preached many months in peace, there being \nno justice willing to disturb us.\" \n\n\" When Dr. Lloyd became pastor of St Martin's in \nthe Fields, I was encouraged by Dr. Tillotson to olfer \nhim my chapel in Oxendon-street for public worship, \nwhich he accepted, to my great satisfaction, and now \nthere is constant preaching there. Be it by conformist \nor nonconformists, I rejoice that Christ is preached.\" \n\nHis reputation, too, was assailed. He was charged \nwith uttering falsehood, and with the crime of mur- \nder ! He was able, however, successfully to refute the \ncalumnies, and to confound his calumniators. \n\nAbout this period, 1681, Baxter was called to endure \na severe and trying providence, in the death of his wife. \nThey had lived together nineteen years. She had been \nijis companion in tribulation ; his comforter in sorrow. \nAnimated by her piety and her influence, he had per- \nsevered in all his attempts to do good. But, now, ia \nthe advance of life, in weakened health, in persecution, \nand in no distant prospect of imprisonment, he was \nleft to pursue his journey alone. She died in the faith \nand hope of the Gospel, June 17, 1681. \n\nHe still pursued his studies and hi^a occasional labors. \n\" Having been for retirement in the country, from Ju- \nly till August 14, 1682, returning in great weakness, I \nwas able only to preach twice, of which the last was \nin my usual lecture in New-street, and it fell out to be \nAugust 24, just that day twenty years, that I, and near \ntwo thousand more, had been by law forbidden to \npreach any more. I was sensible of God's wonderful \n\n\n\n100 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER, \n\n\n\nmercy that had kept so many of us twenty years in so \nmuch liberty and peace, while so many severe laws \nwere in force against us, and so great a number were \nround about us who wanted neither malice nor power \nto afflict us. And so I took, that day, my leave of the \npulpit and public work, in a thankful congregation. \nAnd it is like, indeed, to be my last. \n\n\" But after this, when I had ceased preaching, I \nwas, being newly arisen from extremity of pain, sud- \ndenly surprised in my house by a poor violent inform- \ner, and many constables and officers, who rushed in \nand apprehended me, and served on me one warrant \nto seize on my person, for coming within five miles of \na corporation ; and five more warrants, to distrain for \na hundred and ninety pounds for five sermons. They \ncast my servants into fears, and were about to take all \nmy books and goods, and I contentedly went with \nthem towards the justice to be sent to jail, and left my \nhouse to their will. But Dr. Thomas Coxe, meeting \nme, forced me in again to my couch and bed, and went \nto five justices and took his oath, without my know- \nledge, that I could not go to prison without danger of \ndeath. Upon that the justices delayed a day, till they \ncould speak with the king, and told him what the doc- \ntor had sworn ; and the king consented that the pre- \nsent imprisonment should be forborne, that I might \ndie at home. But they executed all their warrants on \nmy books and goods, even the bed that I lay sick on, \nand sold them all ; and some friends paid them as much \nmoney as they were prized at, which I repaid.\" \n\n\" When I borrowed some necessaries I was never \nthe quieter; for they threatened to come upon me \nagain and take all as mine, whosesoever it was, which \nthey found in my possession. So that 1 had no reme- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n101 \n\n\n\ndy, but utterly to forsake my house, and goods, and \nall, and take secret lodgings distant in a stranger's \nhouse. But having a long lease of my own house, \nwhich binds me to pay a greater rent than now it is \nworth, wherever I go I must pay that rent. \n\n\" The separation from my books would have been \na greater part of my small aflliclion, but that I found \nI was near the end both of tliat work and life which \nneedeth books, and so I easily let go all. Naked came \nI into the world, and naked must I go out. \n\n\" But I never wanted less what man can give, than \nwhen men had taken all. My old friends, and stran- \ngers to me, were so liberal, that I was constrained to \ncheck their bounty. Their kindness was a surer and \nlarger revenue to me than my own. \n\n\" But God was pleased quickly to put me past all \nfear of man, and all desire of avoiding suflering from \nthem by concealment, by laying on me more himself \nthan man can do. Their imprisonment, with tolera- \nble health, would have seemed a palace to me ; and \nhad they put me to death for such a duty as tliey per- \nsecute me for, it would have been a joyful end of my \ncalamity. But day and night I groan and languish un- \nder God's just afflicting hand. As waves follow waves \nin the tempestuous seas, so one pain and danger fol- \nlows another in this sinful miserable flesh. I die daily, \nand yet remain alive. God, in his great mercy^ know- \ning my dullness in health and ease, makes it much \neasier to repent and hate ray sin, and loath myself, \nand contemn the world, and submit to the sentence of \ndeath with willingness, than otherwise it was ever like \nto have been. 0 how little is it that wrathful enemies \ncan do against us, in comparison of what our sin and \nthe justice of God can do ! And O how little is it that \n\nL. B. 9* \n\n\n\n102 LIFE OF BAXTER. \n\nthe best and kindest of friends can do for a pained \nbody or a guilty soul, in comparison of one gracious \nlook or word from God ! Wo be to liiin that has no \nbetter help than man : and blessed is he whose help \nand hope is in the Lord.'' \n\n\" While I continued, night and day, under constant \npain, and often strong, and under the sentence of ap- \nproaching death by an incurable disease, which age \nand great debility yields to, I found great need of the \nconstant exercise of patience by obedient submission to \nGod : and, writing a small Tract of it for my own use, \nI saw reason to yield to them that desired it might be \npublished, there being especially so common need of \n' obedient patience. ' \" \n\n\" Under my daily pains 1 was drawn to a work which \nI had never the least thoughts of, and is like to be the \nlast of my life, to write a paraphrase on the New Tes- \ntament. Mr. John Humphrey having long importuned \nme to write a paraphrase on the Epistle to the Romans, \nwhen I had done that, the usefulness of it to myself \ndrew me farther and farther, till I had done all. But \nhaving confessed my ignorance of the Revelation, and \n)^et unwilling wholly to omit it, I gave but general \nnotes, with the reasons of my uncertainty in the great- \nest difficulties, which I know will fall under the sharp \ncensure of many. But truth is more valuable than \nsuch men's praises. I fitted the whole, by plainness, \nto the use of ordinary families. \n\n\" After many times deliverance from the sentence \nof death, on November 20, 1684. in the very entrance \nof the seventieth year of my age, God was pleased so \ngreatly to increase my painful diseases, as to pass on \nme the sentence of a painful death. But God turns it \nto my good, and gives me a greater willingness to die \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n103 \n\n\n\nthan I once thought I should ever have attained. The \nLord teach me more fully to love his will and rest \ntherein, as mucli better than my own, that often strives \nagainst it. \n\n\" A little before this, while I lay in pain and lan- \nguishing, the justices of sessions sent warrants to ap- \nprehend me, about a thousand more being also on the \nlist, to be all bound to good beliavior. I thought they \nwould send me six months to prison for not taking the \nOxford oath, and dwelling in London, and so I refused \nto open my chamber door to them, their warrant not \nbeing to break it open. But they set six officers at my \nstudy door, who watched all night, and kept me from \nmy bed and food ; so that the next day I yielded to \nthem, who carried me, scarce able to stand, to their \nsessions, and bound me, in a four hundred pounds' bond, \nto good behavior. I desired to know what my crime \nwas, and who were my accusers ; but they told me it \nwas for no fault, but to secure the government in evil \ntimes ; and that they had a list of many suspected per- \nsons, who must do the like as well as I. I desired to \nknow for what I was numbered with the suspected, \nand by whose accusation ; but they gave me good \nwords, and would not tell me. I told them I would \nrather they would send me to jail than put me in cir- \ncumstances to wrong others by being bound with me \nin bonds that I was like to break to-morrow ; for if \nthere did but five persons come in when I was praying, \nthey would take it for a breach of good behavior. They \ntold me not, if they came on other business unexpect- \nedly, and not to a set meeting ; nor yet if we did no- \nthing contrary to law, or the practice of the church. \nI told them our innocency was not now any security \nto us. If two beggar women did but stand in the street \n\n\n\n104 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nand swear that I spake contrary to the law, though \nthey heard me not, my bonds and liberty were at their \nwill; fori myself, lying on my bed, heard Mr. I. R. \npreach in a chapel on the other side of my chamber, \nand yet one Sibil Dash and Elizabeth Cappell swore \nto the justices that it was another that preached; two \nmiserable poor women that made a trade of it, and had \nthus sworn against very many worthy persons in Hack- \nney and elsewhere, on which their goods were seized \nfor fines. But to all this I received no answer. I must \ngive bond. \n\n\" But all this is so small a part of my suffering, in \ncomparison of what I bear in my flesh, that I could \nscarce regard it ; and it is small in comparison of what \nothers suffer. Many excellent persons die in common \njails : thousands are ruined. That holy humble man, \nMr. Rosewell, is now under a verdict for death as a \ntraitor for preaching some words, on the witness and \noath of Hilton's wife, and one or two more women, \nwhose husbands live professedly on the trade, for which \nhe claims many hundred or thousand pounds. And not \nonly the man declares, but many of his hearers wit- \nness, that no such words were spoken, nor any that did \nnot become a loyal, prudent man. \n\n\"December 11, I was forced, in all my pain and \nweakness, to be carried to the sessions-house, or else \nmy bond of four hundred pounds would have been \njudged forfeited. And the more moderate justices, that \npromised my discharge, would none of them be there, \nbut left the work to Sir William Smith and the rest, \nwho openly declared that they had nothing against \nme, and took me for innocent, but yet I must continue \nLnmuq, lest others should expect to be discharged also, \nwhich 1 openly refused. But my sureties would be \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n105 \n\n\n\nbound, lest I should die in jail, against my declared \nwill, and so I must continue.\" \n\n\" January 17. I was forced again to be carried to the \nsessions, and after divers days good words, which put \nme in expectation of freedom, when I was gone, one \n\njustice, Sir Deerham, said it was probable that \n\nthese persons solicited for my liberty that they might \ncome to hear me in conventicles ; and on that they \nbound me again in a four hundred pounds' bond for \nabove a quarter of a year, and so it is likely to be till \nI die, or worse ; though no one ever accused me for \nany conventicle or preaching since they took, all my \nbooks and goods above two years ago, and 1, for the \nmost part, keep my bed.\" \n\nHis greatest trial was now hastening. His \"Para- \nphrase on the New Testament\" gave great offence in \ncertain quarters, and was made the ground of a trial \nfor sedition. \n\nThe following account of this extraordinary trial and \nits issue are given by Calamy, and in a letter from a \nperson who was present on tlie occasion : \n\n\" On the 28th of February Baxter was committed to \nthe King's-Bench prison, by warrant of Lord Chief \nJustice Jefferies, for his ' Paraphrase on the New Tes- \ntament,' which had been printed a little before, and \nwhich was described as a scandalous and seditious \nbook against the government. On his commitment by \nthe chief justice's warrant, he applied for a Ijabeas \ncorpus, and having obtained it, he absconded into the \ncountry to avoid imprisonment, till the term approacli- \ned. He was induced to do this from the constant pain \nhe endured, and an apprehension that he could not \nbear the confinement of a prison. \n\n\" On the 6th of May, which was the first day of the \n\n\n\n106 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER, \n\n\n\nterm, he appeared in Westminster-Hal], and an inA)r- \nmation was then drawn up against him. On the 14iji \nof May he pleaded not guilty to the information. On \nthe 18th of the same month, being much indisposed, it \nwas moved that he might have further time given him \nbefore his trial, but this was denied him. He moved \nfor it by his counsel ; but Jefferies cried out, in a pas- \nsion, ' I will not give him a minute's time more, to save \nhis life. We have had to do,' said he, • with other \nsorts of persons, but now we have a saint to deal witii ; \nand I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. \nYonder,' said he, ' stands Oates in the pillory,' (as he \nactually did at that very time in the new Palace Yard,) \n' and he says he suffers for the truth, and so says Bax- \nter; but if Baxter did but stand on the other side of \nthe pillory with him, I would say, two of the greatest \nrogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there.' \n\n\" On May 30, in the afternoon, Baxter was brought \nto trial before the lord chief justice at Guild-hall. \nSir Henry Ashurst, who would not forsake his own \nand his father's friend, stood by him all the while. \nBaxter came first into court, and with all the marks \nof sincerity and composure, waited for the coming of \nthe lord chief justice, who appeared quickly after, with \ngreat indignation in his face. \n\n\" ' When I saw,' says an eye witness, ' the meek \nman stand before the flaming eyes and fierce looks of \nthis bigot, I thought of Paul standing before Nero. \nThe barbarous usage which he received drew plenty \nof tears from my eyes, as well as from others of the \nauditors and spectators. \n\n\"Jefferies no sooner sat down than a short cause \nwas called and tried ; after which the clerk began to \nread the title of another cause. ' You blockhead,' said \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n107 \n\n\n\nJ«ffcrics, ' the next cause is between Richard Baxter \nand the king:' upon wliich Baxter's cause was called. \n\n\" On the jury being sworn, Baxter objected to them, \nas incompetent to his trial, owing to its peculiar na- \nture. The jurymen being tradesmen, and not scholars, \nhe alledged they were incapable of pronouncing wheth- \ner his 'Paraphrase' was or was not according to the \noriginal text. He therefore prayed that he might have \na jury of learned men, though the one-half of them \nshould be papists. This objection, as might have been \nexpected, was overruled by the court. \n\n\" The king's counsel opened the information at large, \nwith its aggravations. Mr. Pollexfen, Mr. Wallop, Mr. \ni Williams, Mr. Rotherham,Mr. Atwood,and Mr. Phipps, \nI were Baxter's counsel, and had been engaged by Sir \nHenry Ashurst. \n\n\"Pollexfen then rose and addressed the court and \nthe jury. He stated that he was counsel for the pri- \nsoner, and felt that he had a very unusual plea to \nmanage. He had been obliged, he said, by the nature \nof the cause, to consult all our learned commentators, \nmany of whom, learned, pious, and belonging to the \nchurch of England too, concurred with Mr. Baxter in \nhis paraphrase 'of those passages of Scripture which \nwere objected to in the indictment, and by whose help \nhe would be enabled to manage his client's cause. 'I \nshall begin,' said he, 'with Dr. Hammond: and, gen- \ntlemen, though Mr. Baxter made an objection against \nyou, as not fit judges of Creek, which has been over- \nruled, I hope you understand English common sense, \nand can read.' To which the foreman of the jury \nmade a profound bow, and said, 'Yes, sir,' \n\n\"On this the chief justice burst upon Pollexfen like \nh fury, and told him he should not sit there to hear \n\n\n\n108 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nhim preach. 'No, my lord,- said Pollexfen, 'I am coiiii \nsel for Mr. Baxter, and shall ofler nothing but what is \nto the point.' 'Why, this is not,* said Jefferies, 'that \nyou cant to the jury beforehand.' ' I beg your lord- \nship's pardon,' said the counsel, 'and f?hall then pro- \nceed to business.' ' Come then,' said Jefferies, ' what do \nyou say to this count? read it, clerk:' referring to the \nparaphrase on Mark, 12: 38-40. 'Is he not, novr, an \nold knave, to interpret this as belonging to liturgies?' \n'So do others,' replied Pollexfen, 'of the church of \nEngland, who would be loth so to wrong the cause of \nliturgies as to make them a novel invention, or not to \nbe able to date them as early as the scribes and pha- \nrisees.' 'No, no, Mr. Pollexfen,' said the judge: ' they \nwere long-winded, extempore prayers, snch as they \nused to say when they appropriated God to themselves: \n\"Lord, we are thy people, thy peculiar people, thy \ndear people.\"' And then he clenched his hands and \nlifted up his eyes, mimicking their manner, and run- \nning on furiously, as he said they used to pray. 'Pol- \nlexfen,' said Jefferies, ' this is an old rogue, who has \npoisoned the w'orid with his Kidderminster doctrine. \nDon't we know how he preached formerl}^, \"Curse \nyeMeroz; curse them bitterly that come not to the \nhelp of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the \nmighty.\" He encouraged all the women and maids \nto bring their bodkins and thimbles to carry on their \nwar against the king, of ever blessed memory. An old \nschismatical knave, a hypocritical villain'.' \n\n\"Mr. AVallop said that he conceived the matter de- \npending being a point of doctrine, it ought to be re- \nferred to the bishop, his ordinary: but if not, he hum- \nbly conceived the doctrine was innocent and justifiable, \nsetting aside the inuendos, for which there Mas no \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n109 \n\n\n\ncolor, there being no antef'edent to refer them to, \n(i. e. no bishop or clergy of the church of England \nnamed;) he said the book accused contained many \neternal truths: but they who drew the information \nwere the libellers, in applying to the prelates of tlie \nchurch of England those severe things which were \nwritten concerning some prelates who deserved the \ncharacters which he gave. 'My lord,' said he, 'I hum- \nbly conceive the bishops Mr. Baxter speaks of, as your \nlordship, if you have read church history, must con- \nfess, were the plagues of the church and of the world.' \n\n\"Mr. Rotherham urged 'that if Mr. Baxter's book \nhad sharp reflections upon the church of Rome by \nname, but spake well of the prelates of the church of \nEngland, it was to be presumed that the sharp reflec- \ntions were intended only against the prelates of the \nchurch of Rome.' The lord chief justice said, 'Baxter \nwas an enemy to the name and thing, the ofl^ce and \npersons of bishops.' Rotherham added, that Baxter \nfrequently attended divine service, went to the sacra- \nment, and persuaded others to do so too, as was cer- \ntainly and publicly known; and had, in the very book \nso charged, spoken very moderately and honorably of \nthr bishops of the church of England.' \n\n\" Baxter added, 'My lord, I have been so moderate \nwith respect to the cluirch of England, that I have in- \ncurred the censure of many of the dissenters upon that \naccount.' 'Baxter for bishops!' exclaimed Jefferies, \n' that is a merry conceit indeed : turn to it, turn to it. \nUpon this Rotherham turned to a place where it is \nsaid 'that great respect is due to those truly called to \nbe hishops among us; or to that purpose. 'Ay,' said \nJefferies, 'this is your Presbyterian cant; truly called \nUi nf bishops: that is himself, and such rascals, called \nI,. B. 10 \n\n\n\nHO \n\n\n\ntlFE OF -BAXTER. \n\n\n\n10 be bishops of Kidderminster, and other such places. \nBishops set apart by such factious Presbyterians as \nhimself: a Kidderminster bishop he means. ' \n\nBaxter beginning to speak again, Jefferies reviled \nliim; 'Richard, Richard, dost thou think we'll hear \nlliee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old fellow, \nan old knave ; thou hast written books enough to load \na cart, every one as full of sedition, I might say trea- \nson, as an egg is of meat. Hadst thou been whipped \nout of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been \nhappy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the Gospel \nof peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave: it is \nlime for thee to begin to think what account thou ia- \nlendest to give. But, leave thee to thyself, and I see \nthou'lt go on as thou hast begun ; but, by the grace of \nGod, I'll look after thee. I know thou l»ast a mighty \nparty, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in \ncorners, waiting to see what will become of their \nmighty don ; and a doctor of the party (looking at Dr. \nBates) at your elbow ; but, by the grace of Almighty \nGod, I'll crush you all. Come, what do you say for \nyourself, you old knave ? come, speak up! What doth \nhe say? I am not afraid of you, for all the snivelling \ncalves you have about you :' alluding to some persons \nwho were in tears about Mr. Baxter. 'Your lordship \nneed not be,' said the holy man ; 'for I'll not hurt you. \nBut these things will surely be understood one day • \nwhat fools one sort of protestants are made to perse- \ncute the other !' And, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he \nsaid, ' I am not concerned to answer such stuff ; but \nam ready to produce my writings for the confutation \nof all this; and my life and conversation are known \nto many in this nation.' \n\" Mr. Rotherham sitting down, Mr. Atwood began \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nlU \n\n\n\nto show that not one of the passages mentioned in the \ninformation ought to be strained to the sense which \nwas put upon them by the inuendos; they being more \nnatural when taken in a milder sense: nor could any \none of them be applied to the prelates of the church \nof England, without a very forced construction. To \nprove this, he would have read some of the text: but \nJefferies cried out, 'You shan't draw me into a con- \nventicle with your annotations, nor your snivelling \nparson neither.' ' My lord,' said Mr. Atwood, ' that I \nmay use the best authority, permit me to repeat your \nlordship's own words in that case.' 'No, you shan't,' \nsaid he: 'you need not speak, for you are an author \nalready ; though you speak and write impertinently.' \nAtwood replied, ' I can't help that, my lord, if my \ntalent be no better; but it is my duty to do my best \nfor my client.' \n\n\" Jefferies then went on inveighing against what \nAtwood had published ; and Atwood justified it as in \ndefence of the English constitution, declaring that he \nnever disowned any thing that he had written Jef- \nferies several times ordered him to sit down; but he \nstill went on. 'My lord,' said he, 'I have matter of \nlaw to urge for my client.' He then proceeded to cite \nseveral cases wherein it had been adjudged that words \nought to be taken in the milder sense, and not to be \nstrained by inuendos, 'Well,' said Jefferies, when he \nhad done, ' you have had your say.' \n\n\" Mr. Williams and Mr. Phipps said nothing, for \nthey saw it was to no purpose. At last Baxter himself \nsaid, ' My lord, I think I can clearly answer all that is \nlaid to my charge, and I shall do it briefly. The sum \nis contained in these few papers, to which I shall add \na little by testimony ' But he would not hear a word. \n\n\n\n112 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nAt length the chief justice summed up tlie matter in \na long and fulsome harangue, 'it was notoriously \nknown,' he said, ' there had been a design to ruin the \nking and the nation. The old game had been renewed ; \nand this person had been the main incendiary. He is \nas modest now as can be ; but time was, when no man \nwas so ready at, \" Bind your kings in chains, and your \nnobles in fetters of iron and, '• To your tents, O \nIsrael.\" Gentlemen, (with an oath,) don't let us be \ngulled twice in an age.' And when he concluded, he \ntold the jury ' that if they in their consciences be- \nlieved he meant the bishops and clergy of the church \nof England in the passages which the information re- \nferred to, and he could mean nothing else, they must \nfind him guilty. If not, they must find him not guilty.\" \nWhen he had done, Baxter said to him, ' Does your \nlordship think any jury will pretend to pass a verdict \nupon me upon such a trial ?' ' I'll warrant you, Mr. \nBaxter,' said he, ' don't you trouble yourself about that.' \n\n\" The jury immediately laid their heads together at \nthe bar, and found him guilty. As he was .going from \nthe bar, Baxter told the lord chief justice, who had \nso loaded him with reproaches, and still continued \nthem, that a predecessor of his had had other thoughts \nof him; upon which he replied, 'that there was not \nan honest man in England but what look him for a \ngreat knave.' Baxter had subpoenaed several clergy- \nmen, who appeared in court, but were of no use to \nhim, through the violence of the chief justice. Th:; \ntrial being over, Sir Henry Ashurst led him througu \nthe crowd, and conveyed him away in his coach.\" \n\nThis is a faithful portrait of Jefferies, who furnish- \ned Bunyan with the features of his cliief justice, iho \nLord Hategood, Can we be insensible to the mercies \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n113 \n\n\n\nwe enjoy in the very different administration of justice \nill our own times ? \n\n\" On the 2Sth of June Baxter had judgment given \nagainst him. He was fined five hundred marks, con- \ndemned to lie in prison till he paid it, and bound to \nhis good behavior for seven years. It is said that Jef- \nferies proposed a corporal punishment, namely, whip- \nping through the city; but his brethren would not ac- \ncede to it. In consequence of which the fine and im- \nprisonment were agreed to. \n\n\" Baxter being unable to pay the fine, and aware \nthat, though he did, he might soon be prosecuted again, \non some equally unjust pretence, went to prison. Here \nhe was visited by his friends, and even by some of the \nrespectable clergy of the church, who sympathised \nwith his sufferings and deplored the injustice he re- \nceived. He continued in this imprisonment nearly \ntwo years, during which he enjoyed more quietness \nthan he had done for many years before. \n\n\" An imprisonment of two years would have been \nfound very trying and irksome to most men ; to Bax- \nter, however, it does not appear to have pro /ed so pain- \nful, though he had now lost his beloved wife, who had \nfrequently before been his companion in solitude and \nsuffering. His friends do not appear to have neglected \nor forgotten him. The following extract of a letter from \nthe well known Matthew Henry, presents a pleasing \nview of the manner in which he endured bonds and \nafflictions for Christ's sake. It is addressed to his fa- \nther, and dated the 17th of November, 1685, when \nBaxter had been several months confined. Mr. Wil- \nliams justly remarks, ' It is one of those pictures of \ndays which are past, which, if rightly viewed, \" \nproduce lasting and beneficial effects; emotions of sa* \n\nL. B. IQ* \n\n\n\n114 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncied sorrow for the iniquity of persecution, and ani- \nmating praise that the demon in these happy days of \niranquillity is restrained, though not destroyed.' \n\n\" ' 1 went into Southwark, to Mr. Baxter. I was to \nwait upon him once before, and tiien he was busy. 1 \nfound him in pretty comfortable circumstances, though \na prisoner, in a private house near the prison, attended \nby his own man and maid. My good friend Mr. Samuel \nLawrence went with me. He is in as good health as \none can expect ; and, methini^s, looks better, and speaks \nheartier, than when I saw him last. The token you \nsent he would by no means be persuaded to accept \n(and was almost angry when I pressed it) from one \nejected as well as himself. He said he did not use to \nreceive; and I understand since, his need is not great. \n\nWe sat with him about an hour. He gave us some \ngood counsel to prepare for trials, and said the best \npreparation for them was a life of faith and a constant \ncourse of self-denial. He thought it harder constantly \nto deny temptations to sensual appetites and pleasures, \nthan to resist one single temptation to deny Christ for \nfear of suffering; the former requiring such constant \nwatchfulness ; however, after the former, the latter will \nbe the easier. He said, we who are young are apt to \ncount upon great things, but we must not look for \nthem ; and much more to this purpose. He said he \nthought dying by sickness usually much more painful \nand dreadful than dying a violent death, especially \nconsidering the extraordinary supports which those \nhave who suffer for righteousness' sake.\" \n\nVarious cff'orts were made by his friends to have his \nfine rei]iitled, which, after considerable delay, was ac- \ncomplished. \n\n\" Oa the 24ih of ANovember, 1686, Sir Samuel Asirey \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n115 \n\n\n\nsent his warrant to the keeper of the King's Bench \nprison to discharge Baxter. He gave sureties, how- \never, for his good behavior, liis majesty declaring, for \nhis satisfaction, that it should not be interpreted a \nbreach of good behavior for him to reside in London, \nwhich was not inconsistent with the Oxford act. After \nthis release he continued to live some time within tlie \nrules of the Bench ; till, on the 28th of February, 1687, \nhe removed to his house in the Charterhouse-yard ; \nand again, as far as his health would permit, assisted \nMr. Sylvester in his public labors.\" \n\n\"Afier his injurious confinement,\" says his friend. \nSylvester, in the funeral sermon which he preached \nfor Baxter, \" he settled in Charterhouse-yard, in Rut- \nlandhouse, and bestowed his ministerial assistance gra- \ntis upon me. Thereupon he attended every Lord's day \nin the morning, and every other Thursday morning at \na weekly lecture. Thus were we yoked together in \nour ministerial work and trust, to our great mutual sa- \ntisfaction; and because his respects to me, living and \ndying, were very great, I cannot but the more feel the \nloss. I had the benefit and pleasure of always free ac- \ncess to him, and instant conversation with him ; and \nby whom could I profit more than by himself? So \nready was he to communicate his thoughts to me, and \nso clearly would he represent them, as that I may truly \nsay, it was greatly my own fault if he left me not \nwiser than he found me, at all times. \n\n\" After he had continued with me about four years \nand a half he was disabled from going forth to his mi- \nnisterial work; so that what he did he performed for \nthe residue of his life in his own hired house, where \nhe opened his doors, morning and evening, every day, \nto all that would come to join in family worship with \n\n\n\n116 \n\n\n\ntiFE or BAXTER. \n\n\n\nhim; to whom he read the Holy Scriptures, from \nwhence he ' preached the kingdom of God, and taught \nthose things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, \nwith all confidence, no man forbidding him,' Acts, \n28 : 30, 31, even as one greater than himself had done \nbefore him. But, alas, his growing diseases and in- \nfirmities soon forbade this also, confining him first to \nhis chamber, and after to his bed. There, through \npain and sickness, his body wasted ; but his soul abode \nrational, strong in faith and hope, preserving itself in \nthat patience, hope, and joy, through grace, which \ngave him great support, and kept out doubts and fears \nconcerning his eternal welfare.\" \n\nHe still labored with his pen. Even on the vary \nbordersof eternity he was desirous to improve the fleet- \ning moments. \" He continued to preach,\" Dr. Bates \nobserves, in his funeral discourse, \"so long, notwith- \nstanding his wasted, languishing body, that the last \ntime he almost died in the pulpit. Not long after, he \nfelt the approaches of death, and was confined to his \nsick-bed. Death reveals the secrets of the heart; then \nwords are spoken with most feeling and least affecta- \ntion. This excellent man was the same in his life and \ndeath ; his last hours were spent in preparing others \nand himself to appear before God. He said to his \nfriends that visited him, ' You come hither to learn \nto die; I am not the only person that must go this \nway. I can assure you that your whole life, be it ever \nso long, is little enou.^h to prepare for death. Have a \ncare of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the \nflesh ; be sure you choose God for your portion, hea- \nven for your home, God's glory for your end, his word \nfor your rule, and then you need never fear but wo \nshall meet with comfort.' \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n117 \n\n\n\n\" Never was penitent sinner more humble, never was \na sincere believer more calm and comfortable. lie ac- \nknowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill worm \n(it was his usual expression) that ever went to heaven. \nHe admired the divine condescension to us, often say- \ning, ' Lord, what is man ; what am I, vile worm, to the \ngreat God !' Many times he prayed, ' God be merciful \nto me a sinner,' and blessed God that this was left upon \nrecord in the Gospel as an effectual prayer. He said, \n' God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever \ndid; all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in \nChrist,' which he often prayed for. \n\n\" After a slumber, he waked, and said, ' I shall rest \nfrom my labor.' A minister then present said, ' And \nyour works will follow you.' To whom he replied, \n*No works; I will leave out works, if God will grant \nme the other.' When a friend was comforting him \nwith the remembrance of the good many had received \nby his preaching and writings, he said, 'I was but a \npen in God's hands, and what praise is due to a pen?' \n\n\" His resignation to the will of God in his sharp \nsickness was eminent. When extremity of pain con- \nstrained him earnestly to pray to God for his release \nby death, he would check himself: ' It is not fit for me \nto prescribe — when Thou wilt, what Thou wilt, how \nThou wilt.' \n\n\" Being in great anguish, he said, ' O, liow unsearch- \nable are His ways, and his paths past finding out ; the \ndepths of his providence we cannot fathom !' And to \nhis friends, 'Do not think the worse of religion for \nwhat yon see me suffer.' \n\n\" Being often asked by his friends, how it was with \nhis inward man, he replied, ' I bless God I have a well- \ngrounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great \n\n\n\n118 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\npeace and comfort within.' But it was his regret that \n\nhe could not triumphantly express it, by reason of his \nextreme pains. He said, ' Flesh must perish, and we \nmust feel the perishing of it ; and that though his judg- \nment submitted, yet sense would still make him groan.' \n\n\" Being asked whether lie had not great joy from his \nbelieving apprehensions of the invisible state, he re- \nplied, 'What else, think you, Christianity serves for?' \nHe said, the consideration of the Deity in his glory and \ngreatness was too high for our thought ; but the consi- \nderation of the Son of God in our nature, and of the \nsaints in heaven, whom he knew and loved, did much \nsweeten and familiarize heaven to him. The descrip- \ntion of it, in Heb. 12 : 22-24, was most animating to \nhim ; 'that he was going to the innumerable company \nof angels, and to the general assembly and church of \nthe first-born, whose names are written in heaven ; \nand to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just \nmen made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new \ncovenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speakelh \nbetter things than the blood of Abel' That scripture, \nhe said, deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. O, \nhow comfortable is that promise ; ' Eye hath not seen, \nnor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of \nman, the things which God hath prepared for them \nthat love him.' At another time he said that he found \ngreat comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of \nthe Lord's prayer, and was sorry some good people \nwere prejudiced against the use of it. for there were all \nnecessary petitions for soul and body contained in it. \nAt other times he gave excellent counsel to young mi- \nnisters that visited him ; earnestly prayed God to bless \ntheir labors, and make them very successful in con- \nverting souls to Christ ; expressed great joy in th« \n\n\n\ntlFE or BAXTER. 119 \n\nhope that God would do a great deal of good by them ; \nand that they were of moderate, peaceful spirits. \n\n\"He often prayed that God would be merciful to \nthis miserable, distracted world ; and that he would \npreserve his church and interest in it. He advised his \nfriends to beware of self-conceit, as a sin that was \nlikely to ruin this nation ; and said, 'I have written a \nbook against it, which I am afraid has done little good.' \nBeing asked whether he had altered his mind on con- \ntroversial points, lie said, those that pleased might \nknow his mind in his writings ; and that what he iiad \ndone was not for his own reputation, but for the glory \nof God. \n\n\"I went to him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. Ma- \nther, of New-England, the day before he died ; and \nspeaking some comforting words to him, he replied, ' I \nliave pain; there is no arguing against sense; but I \nhave peace, I have peace.' I said, you are now ap- \nproaching your long-desired home; he answered, 'I \nbelieve, I believe.' He said to Mr. Mather, ' I bless \nGod that you have accomplished your business ; the \nLord prolong your life.' He expressed his great wil- \nlingness to die ; and during his sickness, wlien the \nquestion was asked, ' How he did ?' his reply was, \n' Almost well.' His joy was most remarkable, w hen, in \nhis own apprehension, death was nearest ; and his spi- \nritual joy was at length consummated in eternal joy.\" \n\n\"As to himself, even to the last,\" says Mr. Sylvester, \n\" I never could perceive his peace and heavenly hopes \nassaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly \nlament that he felt no greater liveliness in what ap- \npeared so great and clear to him, and so very much \ndesired by him. As to the influence thereof upon his \nspirit, in order to the sensible refreshment of it, he \n\n\n\n120 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nclearly saw what ground he had to rejoice In God ; he \ndoubted not of his title to heaven, through the merits \nof Christ. He told jne he knew it would be well with \nhim when lie was gone. He wondered to hear others \nspeak oi their so passionately strong desires to die, and \nof their transports of spirit when sensible of their ap- \nproaching death, as he did not so vividly feel their \nstrong consolations. But when I asked him whether \nmuch of this was not to be resolved into bodily con- \nstitution, he said it might be so. The heavenly state \nwas the object of his severe and daily thoughts and \nsolemn contemplations; for he set some time apart \nevery day for that weighty work. He knew that nei- \nther grace nor duty could be duly exercised without \nserious meditation. And as he was a scribe instructed \ninto the kingdom of heaven, so he both could and did \ndraw forth out of his treasures things new and old, to \nhis own satisfaction and advantage, as well as to the \nbenefit of others.\" \n\n\" He had frequently, before his death, owned to me \nhis continuance in the same sentiments that he had ex- \nhibited to the world in his polemic discourses, especial- \nly about justification, and the covenants of works and \ngrace, &c. And being asked, at my request, whether \nlie had changed his former thoughts about those things, \nhis answer was, that he had told the world suffi- \nciently his judgment concerning ihe.Ti by words and \nwriting, and thither he referred men. And then lifting \nup his eyes to heaven, he uttered these words, ' Lord, \npity, pity, pity the ignorance of this poor city.' \n\n\"On Monday, the day before his death, a great \ntrembling and coldness awakened nature, and extorted \nstrong cries for pity from Heaven ; which cries and \nagony continued for some time, till at length he ceas- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n121 \n\n\n\ned those cries, and so lay in a patient expectation of his \nchange. And being once asked by his faithful friend \nand constant attendant upon him in his weakness, \nworthy and faithful Mrs. Bushel, his housekeeper, \nwhether he knew her or no, requesting some signifi- \ncation of it if he did, he softly said, 'Death, death !' \nAnd now he felt the benefit of his former preparations \nfor such a trying hour. And, indeed, the last words that \nhe spake to me, being informed that I was come to see \nliim, were these, 'O, I thank him, I thank him j' and \nturning his eyes to me, he said, ' The Lord teach you \nto die.' \" \n\n\" On Tuesday morning, about four o'clock, Decem- \nber 8th, 1691, he expired ; though he expected and de- \nsired his dissolution to have been on the Lord's day \nbefore, which, with joy, to me he called a high day, be- \ncause of his desired change expected then by him.\" \n\nA report was quickly spread abroad after his death, \nthat he was exercised on his dying bed with doubts \nrespecting the truths of religion, and his own personal \nsafety, which report Mr. Sylvester thus refutes : \n\n\" Of what absurdity will not degenerate man be \nguilty! We know nothing here that could, in the \nleast, minister to such a report as this. I that was with \nhim all along, have ever heard him triumphing in his \nheavenly expectation, and ever speaking like one that \ncould never have thought it worth a man's while to be, \nwere it not for the great interest and ends of godliness. \nHe told me that he doubted not but it would be best \nfor him, when he had left this life and was translated \nto the heavenly regions. \n\n\" He owned what he had written, with reference to \nthe things of God, to the very last. He advised those \nthat came near him^ carefully to mind their soul's con- \n\nL. B. 11 \n\n\n\nLITE or BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncerns. T'le shortness of time, the importance of eter« \niiily. the worth of souls, the greatness of God, the \nriches of the grace of Christ, the excellenc}' and im- \nport of an lieavenly mind and life, and the great use- \nfulness of the word and means of grace pursuant to \neternal purposes, ever lay pressingly npon liis own \nlieart, and extorted from liim very useful directions \nand encouragements to all that came near liim, even \nto the last; insomuch that if a polemical or casuistical \npoint, or any speculation on philosophy or divinity, \nhad been but offered to him for his resolution, after \nthe clearest and briefest representation of his mind \nwhich the proposer's satisfaction called for, he present- \nly and most delightfully fell into conversation about \nwhat related to our Christian hope and work.\" \n\n\"Baxter was buried in Christ-church, London, where \nthe ashes of his wife and her mother had been deposit- \ned. His funeral was attended by a great number of \npersons of different ranks, especially of ministers, con- \nformists as well as nonconformists, who were eager \nto testify their respect for one of whom it might have \nbeen said with equal truth, as of the intrepid reformer \nof the north, 'There lies the man who never feared \nthe face of man.'\" \n\nIn his last will, made two years before his death, he \nsays, \" I, Richard Baxter, of London, clerk, an un- \nworthy servant of Jesus Christ, drawing to the end of \nthis transitory life, having, through God's great mercy, \nthe free use of my understanding, do make this my \nlast will and testament, revoking all other wills for- \nmerly made by me. My spirit I commit, with trust \nand hope of the heavenly felicity, into the hands of \nJesus, my glorified Redeemer and Intercessor ; and, \nbv his mediation, into the hands of God my reconcil- \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n123 \n\n\n\ned Father, the infinite eternal Spirit, Light, Life, and \nLove, most great, and wise, and good, the God of na- \nture, grace, and glory ; of whom, and through whom, \nand to whom are all things ; my absolute Owner, Ru- \nler, Benefactor, whose I am, and whom I, though im- \nperfectly, serve, seek, and trust; to whom be glory for \never, amen. To him I render the most humble thanks, \nthat he hath filled up my life with abundant mercy, \nand pardoned my sins by the merits of Christ, and \nvouchsafed, by his Spirit, to renew me and seal me as \nhis own ; and to moderate and bless to me my long \nsufferings in the flesh, and at last to sweeten them by \nhis own interest and comforting approbation.\" He \nbequeathed his books to \"poor scholars,\" and the resi- \ndue of his property to the poor. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. \n\nHIS PERSON — VIEWS OF HIMSELF, AND GENERAL \nCHARACTER. \n\nHaving proceeded to the grave, and committed his \n\" remains to their long and final resting-place, it will \nbe proper to present the views which were formed of \nhis character, both by himself and friends. \n\n\"His person,\" Mr. Sylvester states, \"was tall and \nslender, and stooped much; his countenance composed \nand grave, somewhat inclining to smile. He had a \npiercing eye, a very articulate speech, and his deport- \nment rather plain than complimentaJ. He had a great \n\n\n\n124 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncommand over his tlioughts. His ciiaracter answered \nthe description given of him by a learned man dis- \nsenting from him, after discourse with him ; that ' he \ncould say what he would, and he could prove what he \nsaid.' \n\nSome few years before his death, Baxter took a mi- \nnute and extensive survey of liis own character, and \ncommitted it to paper. From this paper the following \nextracts are taken : — \n\nAs it is soui-experiments which those that urge me \nto this kind of writing expect I should especially com- \nmunicate to others, and I have said little of God's deal- \ning with my soul since the time of my younger years, \n1 shall only give the reader what is necessary to ac- \nquaint him truly what change God has made upon my \nmind and heart since those earlier times, and wherein \nI now differ in judgment and disposition from my for- \nmer self. And, for any more particular account of \nheart-occurrences, and God's operations on me, I think \nit somewhat unsuitable to recite them ; seeing God's \ndealings are much the same with all his servants in the \nmain, and the points wherein he varieth are usually so \nsmall, that I think such not proper to be repeated. Nor \nhave I any thing extraordinary to glory in, which is \nnot common to the rest of my brethren, who have the \nsame Spirit, and are servants of the same Lord. Ana \nthe true reason why I do adventure so far upon the \ncensure of the world as to tell them wherein the case \nis altered with me, is, that I may prevent young inex- \nperienced Christians from being over-confident in their \nfirst apprehensions, or overvaluing their first degrees \nof grace, or too much applauding and following unfur- \nnished inexperienced men, and that they may be in \nsome measure directed what mind and course of life to \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n125 \n\n\n\nprefer, by the judgment of one that has tried both be- \nfore them. \n\n\" The temper of my mind has somewhat altered \nwith the temper of my body. When I was young, 1 \nwas more vigorous, afteclionate, and fervent in preach- \ning, conference, and prayer, than ordinarily I can be \nnow ; my style was more extemporary and lax, but by \nthe advantage of affection, and a very familiar moving \nvoice and utterance, my preaching then did more affect \nthe auditory than many of the last years before I gave \nover preaching ; but yet what I delivered was much \nmore raw, and had more passages that would not bear \nthe trial of accurate judgments, and my discourses \nhad both less substance and less judgment than of late. \n\n\"in my younger years my trouble for sin was most \nabout my actual failings, in lliought, word, or action; \nnow I am much more troubled for inward defects, and \nomission or want of the vital duties or graces in the \nsoul. My daily trouble is so much for my ignorance \nof God, and weakness of belief, and want of greater \nlove to God, and strangeness to him and to the life to \ncome, and want of a greater willingness to die, and oi \na longing to be with God in heaven, — that I take not \nsome immoralities, though very great, to be in them- \nselves so great and odious sins, if iliey could be found se- \nparate from these. Had I all the riches of the world, \nhow gladly should I give them for a fuller knowledge, \nbelief, and love of God and everlasting glory ! These \nwants are the greatest burdens of my life, which \noften make my life itself a burden. And I cannot find \nany hope of reaching so high in these while 1 am in \nthe flesh, as I once hoped before this time to have at- \ntained ; which makes me the more weary of this sinful \n\n\n\n126 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nworld, which is honored with so little of the know \nledge of God. \n\n\" Heretofore I placed much of niy religion in ten- \nderness of heart, and grieving for sin, and penitential \ntears; and less of it in the love of God, and studying \nhis love and goodness, and in his joyful praises, than \nI now do. Then I was little sensible of the greatness \nand excellency of love and praise, though I coldly \nspake the same words in its commendation as I now \ndo. And now I am less troubled for want of grief and \ntears, though I more value humility, and refuse not \nneedful humiliation ; but my conscience now looks at \nlove and delight in God, and praising him, as the height \nof all my religious duties, for which it is that I value \nand use the rest. \n\n\" My judgment is much more for frequent and seri- \nous meditation on the heavenly blessedness, than it \nwas in my younger days. I then thought that ser- \nmons on the attributes of God and the joys of hea- \nven w^ere not the most excellent ; and was wont *o \nsay, ' Every body knows this, that God is great and \ngood, and that heaven is a blessed place ; I had rather \nhear how I may attain it.' And nothing pleased me so \nwell as the doctrine of regeneration, and the marks of \nsincerity, because these subjects were suitable to me in \nthat state; but now I had rather read, hear, or medi- \ntate on God and heaven, than on any other subject ; for \nI perceive that it is the object that clianges and elevates \nthe mind, which will be like what it most frequently \nfeeds upon ; and that it is not only useful to our com- \nfort to be much in heaven in our believing thoughts, \nbut that it must animate all our other duties, and for- \ntify us against every temptation and sin j and that a \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n127 \n\n\n\nman is no more a Christian indeed, than as he is \nheavenly. \n\n\"I was once wont, lo meditate most on my own \nheart, and to dwell all at home, and look little higher. \nI was still poring either on my sins or wants, or exa- \nmining my sincerity; but now, though I am greatly \nconvinced of the need of heart-acquaintance and em- \nployment, yet I see more need of a higher work ; and \nthat I should look oftener upon Christ, and God, and \nheaven, than upon my own heart. At home I can find \ndistempers to trouble me, and some evidences of my \n{)eace ; but it is above that I must find matter of de- \nlight and joy, and love and peace itself. Therefore I \nwould have one thought at home, upon myself and \nsins, and many thoughts above, upon the high, aud \namiable, and beatifying objects. \n\n\" Heretofore 1 knew much less than now, and yet \nwas not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. \nI had a great delight in the daily new discoveries \nwhich I made, and in the light which shined upon me, \nlike a man tiiat comes into a country where he never \nwas before; but I little knew either how imperfectly I \nunderstood those very points, whose discovery so much \ndelighted me, nor how much might be said against \nthem, nor how many things I was yet a stranger to ; \nbut now I find far greater darkness upon all things, \nand perceive how very little it is that we know in com- \nparison of that which we are ignorant of, and 1 have \nfar meaner thoughtsof my own understanding, though \nI must needs know that it is better furnished than it \nwas then. \n\n\" I now see more good and more evil in all men \nthan heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so \ngood as I once thought they were, but have more im- \n\n\n\n128 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nperfections; and that nearer approach, and fuller trial, \ndoth make the best appear more weak and faulty than \ntheir admirers at a distance think. And I find that few \nare so bad as either their malicious enemies or censo- \nrious separating professors do imagine. \n\n\"J less admire gifts of utterance and bare profes- \nsion of religion than I once did ; and have much more \ncharity for many, who, by the want of gifts, do make \nan obscurer profession than they. I once thought tliat \nalmost all that could pray movingly and fluently, and \ntalk well of religion, were saints. But more observa- \ntion has opened to me what odious crimes may con- \nsist with high profession ; and I have met with divers \nobscure persons, not noted for any extraordinary pro- \nfession or forwardness in religion, but only to live a \nquiet, blameless life, whom I have after found to have \nlong lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and \nsanctified life; only their prayers and duties were, by \naccident, kept secret from other men's observation. \nYet he that, upon this pretence, would confound I'.e \ngodly and the ungodly, may as well go about to lay \nheaven and hell together. \n\n\" I am not so narrow in my special love as hereto- \nfore. Being less censorious, and talking more than I \ndid for saints, it must needs follow that 1 love more as \nsaints than I did before. \n\n\" I am much more sensible how prone many young \nprofessors are to spiritual pride and self-conceitedness, \nand unruliness and division, and so to prove tlie grief \nof their teachers, and firebrands in the church ; and \nhow much of a minister's work lies in preventing this, \nand humbling and confirming such young inexperi- \neniied professors, and keeping them in order ia their \nprogress ia religion. \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n129 \n\n\n\n\" I am more deeply afflicted for the disagreements \nof Christians, than 1 was when I was a younger Chris- \ntian. Except the case of the infidel world, nothing is \nso sad and grievous to my thoughts as the case of the \ndivided churches ; and therefore I am more deeply \nsensible of the sinfulness of those prelates and pastors \nof the churciies who are the principal cause of these \ndivisions. 0 how many millions of souls are kept by \nthem in ignorance and ungodliness, and deluded by \nfaction, as if it were true religion ! How is the conver- \nsion of infidels hindered by them, and Christ and re- \nligion heinously dishonored ! \n\n\" I am much less regardful of the approbation of \nman, and set much lighter by contempt or applause, \nthan I did long ago. I am often suspicious that this \nis not only from the increase of self-denial and humi- \nlity, but partly from my being glutted and surfeited \nwith human applause; and all worldly things appear \nmost vain and unsatisfactory when we have tried them \nmost. But as far as I can perceive, the knowledge of \nman's nothingness, and God's transcendent greatness, \nwith whom it is that I liave most to do, and the sense \nof the brevity of human things, and the nearness of \neternity, are the principal causes of this effect, which \nsome have imputed to self-conceitedness and mo- \nroseness. \n\n\" I am more and more pleased with a solitary life ; \nand though, in a way of self-denial, I could submit to \nthe most pubhc life, for the service of God, when he \nrequires it, and would not be unprofitable that I might \nbe private ; yet, I must confess, it is much more pleas- \ning to myself to be retired from the world, and to have \nvery little to do with men, and to converse with God \nand conscience, and good books. \n\n\n\n130 \n\n\n\ntlFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n\"Though I was never mucli templed to the sin of \ncovelousiiess, yet my fear of dying was wont to leil \nme that I was not suHiciently loosened from the world. \nDul I find that it is comparaiively very easy to me to \nbe loose from this worid, but hard to li\\e by faith \nabove. To despise earlii is easy to me ; but not so easy \nto be acquainted and conversant wiih heaven. 1 have \nnotiiing in this world which I could not easily let go; \nbut, to get satisfying apprehensions of the other world \nis the great and grievous difficulty. \n\nI am much more apprehensive than long ago of \nthe odiousness and danger of the sin of pride: scarce \nany sin appears more odious to me. Having daily \nmore acqiuiinlance with the lamentable naughiiness \nand frailty of man, and of the mischiefs of that sin, \nand especially in matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, \nI think, so far as any man is proud, he is kin to the \ndevil, and a stranger to God and to himself. It is a \nwonder that it should be a possible sin, to men that \nstill carry about with them, in soul and body, such \nhumbling matter of remedy as we all do. \n\n\" I more than ever lament the unhappiness of the \nnobility, gentry, and great ones of the world, who live \nin such temptation to sensuality, curiosity, anrt wast- \ning of their time about a multitude of little things ; and \nwhose lives are too often the transcript of the sins of \nSodom — pride, fullness of bread, and abundance of idle- \nness, and want of compassion to the poor. And I more \nvalue the life of the poor laboring man. but especially \nof him that hath neither poverty nor riches. \n\n\" I am much more sensible than heretofore, of the \nbreadth, and length, and depth of the radical, univer- \nsal, and odious sin of selfishness, and therefore have \nwritten so much against it; and of the excellency auU \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n131 \n\n\n\nnecessity of self-denial, and of a public mind, and of \nloving our neighbor as ourselves. \n\nI am more and more sensible that most controver- \nsies have more need of right stating than of debating; \nand if my skill be increased in any thing, it is in nar- \nrowing controversies by explication, and separating \nthe real from the verbal, and proving to many con- \nlenders that they in fact differ less than they liiink \nthey do. \n\n*'I am more solicitous than I have been about my \nduty to God, and less solicitous about his dealings with \nme, as being assured that lie will do all things well, \nacknowledging the goodness of all the declarations of \nhis holiness, even in the punishment of man, and \nknowing that there is no rest but in the will and good- \nness of God. \n\n\"Though my habitual judgment, and resolution, \nand scope of life be still the same, yet I find a great \nmutability as to actual apprehensions and degrees of \ngrace; and consequently find that so mutable a thing \nas the mind of man would never keep itself, if God \nwere not its keeper. \n\n\"Thus much of the alterations of my soul, since \nmy younger years, I thought best to give the reader, \ninstead of all those experiences and actual motions and \naffections which I suppose him rather to have expec- \nted an account of. And having transcribed thus much \nof a life which God has read, and conscience has read, \nand must further read, I humbly lament it, and beg \npardon of it, as sinful, and too unequal and unprofit- \nable. And I warn the reader to amend that in his \nown, which he finds to have been amiss in mine; con- \nfessing, also, that much has been amiss which I have \nnot here particularly mentioned, and that I have not \n\n\n\n132 \n\n\n\nLIFE CF liAXTER. \n\n\n\nlived according to tlie abundant mercits of the Lord. \nBut what I have recorded, lias been especially to per- \nform my vows, and to declare his praise to all gen- \nerations, who has filled my days with his invaluable \nfavors, and bound rne to bless his name for ever. \n\n''But having mentioned the changes which I think \nwere for the better, I must add, that as I confessed \nmany of my sins belore, so, I have been since guilty oi \nm.any, w^hich, because materially they seemed small \nhave had the less resistance, and yet, on the review, do \ntrouble me more than if they had been greater, done \nin ignorance. It can be no small sin which is com- \nmitted against knowledge, and conscience, and deli- \nberation, whatever excuse it have. To have sinned \nwhilst I preached and wTOte against sin, and had such \nabundant and great obligations from God, and made \nso many promises against it, lays me very low: not \nSD much in fear of hell, as in great displeasure against \nmyself, and such self-abhorrence as would cause re- \nvenge against myself, were it not forbidden. When \nGod forgives me, I cannot forgive myself; especially \nfor any rash words or deeds, by which I have seemed \ninjurious, and less tender and kind than I should have \nbeen to my near and dear relations, whose love abun \ndantly obliged me; when such are dead, though we \nnever differed in point of interest, or any great matter, \nevery sour or cross provoking word which I gave them \nmakes me almost irreconcileable to myself \n\nI mention all these faults that they may be a warn- \ning to others to take heed, as they call on myself for \nrepentance and watchfulness. O Lord, for the merits, \nand sacrifice, and intercession of Christ, be merciful \nto me a sinner, and forgive my known and unknown \nsins 1 \" \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n133 \n\n\n\nDr Bates has drawn a full-length portrait of the \n-character of his venerable friend in his funeral sermon, \nfrom which some extracts will now be given. \n\n\"He had not the advantage of academical educa- \ntion; but, by the Divine blessing upon his rare dex- \nterity and diligence, his eminence in sacred knowledge \nwas such as few in the university ever arrive to.\" \n\n\" Conversion is the excellent work of Divine grace: \nthe efficacy of the means is from the Supreme Mover. \nBut God usually makes those ministers successful in \nthat blessed work, whose principal design and delight \ni& to glorify him in the saving of souls. This was the \n/eigning affection in his heart; and he was extraordi- \nnarily qualified to obtain his end. \n\n\" His prayers were an effusion of the most lively \nmelting expressions, growing out of his intimate ar- \nflent affections to God : from the abundance of his \nheart, his lips spake. His soul took wing for heaven, \nand wrapped up the souls of others with him. Never \ndid I see or hear a holy minister address himself to \nGod with more reverence and humility, with respect \nlo his glorious greatness ; never with more zeal and \nfervency, correspondent to the infinite moment of his \nrequests ; nor with more filial affiance in the Divine \nmercy.\" \n\nAs a specimen of his prayers, two quotations from \nhis published writings may be given. Addressing the \nDivine Spirit, he says, \" As thou art the Agent and \nAdvocate of Jesus my Lord, O plead his cause effec- \ntually in my soul against the suggestions of Satan and \nmy unbelief; and finish his healing, saving work, and \nlet not the flesh or world prevail. Be in me the resi- \ndent witness of my Lord, the Author of my prayers, \nthe Spirit of adoption, the seal of God, and the earnest \n\nL. B. 12 \n\n\n\n134 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nof mine inheritance. Let not my nights be so long, and \nmy days so short, nor sin eclipse those beams which \nliave often illuminated my soul. Without these, books \nare senseless scrawls, studies are dreams, learning is \na glow-worm, and wit is but wantonness, impertinence \nand folly. Transcribe those sacred precepts on my \nheart, which by thy dictates and inspirations are re- \ncorded in thy holy word. I refuse not thy help for \ntears and groans ; but O shed abroad that love upon my \nheart; which may keep it in a continual life of love. \nTeach me the work which I must do in heaven ; re- \nfresh my soul with the delights of holiness, and the \njoys which arise from the believing hopes of the ever- \nlasting joys. Exercise my heart and tongue in the \nholy praises of my Lord. Strengthen me in sufferings; \nand conquer t!ie terrors of deatii and hell. Make mc \nthe m()re heavenly, by how much the faster I am hast- \nening to heaven ; and let my last thoughts, words, and \nworks on earth, be most like to those which shall be \nmy first in the state of glorious immortality; where \nthe kingdom is delivered up to the Father, and God \nwill for ever be all, and in all ; of whom, and through \nwhom, and to whom, are all things, to whom be glo- \nry for ever. Amen.\" \n\nAnother specimen may be given from Baxter's con- \nclusion of his work on the \"Saints' Rest.\" \n\n\" O Thou, the merciful Tather of spirits, the attrac- \ntive of love, and ocean of delight ! draw up these dros- \nsy hearts unto thyself, and keep them there till they \nare spiritualized and refined ! Second thy servant'* \nweak endeavors, and persuade those that read these \nlines to the practice of this delightful, heavenly work! \nO ! suffer not the soul of thy most unworthy servant \nto be a stranger to those joys which he describes to \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n135 \n\n\n\nothers ; but keep me, while I remain on earth, In daily \nbreathing after thee, and in a believing, affectionate \nwalking with thee. And, when thou comest, let me be \nfound so doing; not serving my flesh, nor asleep with \nmy lamp unfurnished, but waiting and longing for my \nLord's return. Let tiiose who shall read these pages, \nnot merely read the fruit of my studies, but the breath- \ning of my active hope and love ; that if my heart were \nopen to their view, they might there read thy love \nmost deeply engraven with a beam from the face of \nthe Son of God ; and not find vanity, or lust, or pride \nwithin, where the words of life appear without; that \nso these lines may not witness against me; but pro- \nceeding from the heart of the writer, may they be \neffectual, through thy grace, upon the heart of the \nreader, and so be the savior of life to both.\" \n\nDr. Bates says : \"In his sermons there was a rare \nunion of arguments and motives to convince the mind \nand gain the heart. All the fountains of reason and \npersuasion were open to his discerning eye. There \nwas no resisting the force of his discourses, without \ndenying reason and Divine revelation. He had a mar- \nvellous felicity and copiousness in speaking. There \nwas a noble negligence in his style; for his great mind \ncould not stoop to the affected eloquence of words : ho \ndespised flashy oratory, but his expressions were clear \nand powerful; so convincing the understanding, so \nentering into the soul, so engaging the affections, that \nthose were as deaf as adders who were not charmed \nby so wise a charmer. He was animated by the Holy \nSpirit, and breathed celestial fire, to inspire heat and \nlife into dead sinners, and to melt the obdurate in their \nfrozen tombs. Methinks I still hear him speak those \npowerful words : ' A wretch that is coudemned to die \n\n\n\n136 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nto-morrow cannot forget it : and yet poor sinners, that \ncontinually are uncertain to live an hour, and certain \nspeedily to see the majesty of the Lord, to their incon- \nceivable joy or terror, as sure as they now live on \nearth, can forget these things, for which they have \ntheir memory ; and which one would think, should \ndrown the matters of this world, as the report of a \ncannon does a whisper, or as the sun obscures the poor- \nest glow-worm. 0 wonderful stupidity of the unrenew- \ned soul ! O wonderful folly and madness of the ungod- \nly ! That ever men can forget— I say again, that they \ncan forget eternal joy, eternal wo, and the eternal God, \nand the place of their eternal unchangeable abode?, \nwhen they stand even at the door ; and there is but \nthat thin veil of flesh between them and that amazing \nsight, that eternal gulf, and they are daily dying and \nstepping in.\" \n\nTo this may be added a quotation from a sermon \npreached before the judges at the assizes : \" Honora- \nble, worshipful, and well-beloved, it is a v/eighty em- \nployment that occasions your meeting here to-day. \nThe estates and lives of men are in your hands. But \nit is another kind of judgment which you are all \nhastening towards; when judges and juries, the ac- \ncusers and the accused, must all appear upon equal \nterms, for the final decision of a far greater cause. \nThe case that is then and there to be determined, is not \nwhether you shall have lands or no lands, life or no \nlife, in our natural sense ; but whether you shall have \nheaven or hell, salvation or damnation, and endless life \nof glory with God and the Redeemer, and the angels \nof heaven, or an endless life of torment v/ith devils \nand ungodly men. As sure as you now sit on those \n^eatp- vou shall shortly all appear before the Judge ol \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n137 \n\n\n\nall the world, and there receive an irreversible sen- \ntence to an unchangeable state of happiness or misery. \nThis is the great business that should presently call up \nyour most serious thoughts, and set all the powers of \nyour souls on work for the most effectual preparation ; \nthat, if you are men, you may acquit yourselves like \nmen, for the preventing of that dreadful doom which \nunprepared souls must there expect. The greatest of \nyour secular affairs are but dreams and toys to this. \nWere you at every assize to determine causes of no \nlower value than the crowns and kingdoms of the mo- \nnarchs of the earth, it were but as children's games to \nthis. If any man of you believe not this, he is worse \nthan the devil that temptelh him to unbelief; and let \nhim know that unbelief is no prevention, nor will put \noff the day, or hinder his appearance ; but will render \ncertain his condemnation at that appearance. \n\n\" He that knows the law and the fact, may know be- \nfore your assize what will become of every prisoner, if \nthe proceedings be all just, as in our case they will cer- \ntainly be. Christ will judge according to his laws ; know, \ntherefore, whom the law condemns or justifies, and \nyou may know whom Christ will condemn or justify. \nAnd seeing all this is so, does it not concern us all to \nmake a speedy trial of ourselves in preparation for this \nfinal trial ? I shall, for your own sakes, therefore, take \nthe boldness, as the officer of Christ, to summon you to \nappear before yourselves, and keep an assize this day \nin your own souls, and answer at the bar of conscience \nto what shall be charged upon you. Fear not the trial ; \nfor it is not conclusive, final, or a peremptory irrever- \nsible sentence that must now pass. Yet slight it not ; \nfor it is a necesFsary preparative to that which is final \nand irreversible.\" \n\n\n\n138 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nAfter describing the vanities of the world, he bursts \nforth: \"What! shall we prefer a mole-hill before a \nkingdom? A shadow before the substance ? An hour \nbefore eternity? Nothing before all things? Vanity \nand vexation before felicity? The cross of Christ hath \nset up such a sun as quite darkeneih the light of \nworldly glory. Though earth were something, if there \nwere no better to be had, it is nothing when heaven \nstandeth by.\" \n\nDr. Bates further remarks : \" Besides, his wonderful \ndiligence in catechising the particular families under \nhis charge was exceeding useful to plant religion in \nthem. Personal instruction, and application of divine \ntruths, has an excellent advantage and efficacy to in- \nsinuate and infuse religion into the minds and hearts \nof men, and, by the conversion of parents and masterri \nto reform whole families that are under their imnie \ndiate direction and government. His unwearied indus \ntry to do good to his flock, was answered by corres \npondent love and thankfulness. He was an angel in \ntheir esteem. He would often speak with great com- \nplacence of their dear affections; and, a little before \nhis death, said, ' He believed they were more expres \nsive of kindness to him, than the Christian convertfs \nwere to the apostle Paul, by what appears in hia \nwritings.' \" \n\n\" His books, for their number and the variety of mat- \nter in them, make a library. They contain a treasure \nof controversial, casuistical, positive, and practical di \nvinity. Of them I shall relate the words of one whose \nexact judgment, joined with his moderation, will give \na great value to his testimony ; they are those of Dr. \nWilkins, afterwards bishop of Chester. He said thai \nMr. Baxter had ' cultivated every subject he handled \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n139 \n\n\n\nand 'if he had lived in the primitive times, he had been \none of the fathers of the church,' and ' that it was \nenough for one age to produce such a person as Mr. \nBaxter.' Indeed, he had such an amplitude in his \nthoughts, such a vivacity of imagination, and such so- \nlidity and depth of judgment as rarely meet in one \nman. His inquiring mind was freed from the serviln \ndejection and bondage of an implicit faith. He adhered \nto the Scriptures as the perfect rule of faith, and \nsearched whether the doctrines received and taught \nwere consonant to it. This is the duty of every Chris- \ntian according to his capacity, especially of minis- \nters, and the necessary means to open the mind for \nDivine knowledge, and for the advancement of the \ntruth.\" \n\n\" His books of practical divinity have been effectual \nfor more numerous conversions of sinners to God than \nany printed in our time ; and while the church remains \non earth, will be of continual efficacy to recover lost \nsouls. There is a vigorous pulse in them that keeps the \nreader awake and attentive. His book of the 'Saints' \nEverlasting Rest,' was written by him when languish- \ning in the suspense of life and death, but has the sig- \nnatures of his holy and vigorous mind. To allure our \ndesires, he unveils the sanctuary above, and discovers \nthe glory and joys oi' the blessed in the Divine pre- \nsence, by a light so strong and lively, that all the gl.t- \ntering vanities of this world vanish in that comparison, \nand a sincere believer will despise them, as one of ma- \nture age does the toys and baubles of children. To ex- \ncite our fear he removes the skreen, and makes the \neverlasting fire of hell so visible, and represents the \ntormenting passions of the damned in those dreadful \ncolors, that, if duly considered, would check and \n\n\n\n140 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\ncontrol the unbridled licentious appetites of the most \n\nsensual.\" \n\nBaxter's practical writings alone occupy four pon- \nderous folio, or twenty-two octavo volumes. If a com- \nplete collection of his controversial and practical writ- \nings were made, they would occupy fully sixty volumes \nof ihe same size. \" His industry was almost incredible \nin his studies. He had a sensitive nature, desirous of \nease, as others have, and faculties like others, liable to \nlire ; yet such was the continual application of him- \nself to his great work, as if the labor of one day had \nsupplied strength for another, and the willingness of \nthe spirit had supported the weakness of the flesh.\" \nHis painful and incessant afflictions would have pre- \nvented an ordinary nian^from attempting any thing ; \nbut he persevered with unwearied industry to the close \nof his days. His life was occupied, too, in active labors. \nIn camps and at court, in his parish and in prison, at \nhome and abroad, his efforts were unremitting and \noften successful. \n\nSome idea of his sufferings may be formed from the \nsummary of his diseases given by his late biographer. \n\nHis constitution was naturally sound, but he was \nalways very thin and weak, and early affected with \nnervous debility. At fourteen years of age he was \nseized with the small-pox, and soon after, by improper \nexposure to the cold, he was affected with a violent \ncatarrh and cough. This continued for about two years, \nand was followed by spitting of blood and other phthi- \nsical symptoms. He became, from that time, the sport \nof medical treatment and experiment. One physician \nprescribed one mode of cure, and another a different \none ; till, from first to last, he had the advice of no less \nthan ihirty-six professors of the healing art. By their \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nUl \n\n\n\norders he took drugs without number, till, from ex- \nperiencing how little they could do for him, he for- \nsook them entirely, except some particular symptom \nurged him to seek present relief. He was diseased lite- \nrally from head to foot ; his stomach flatulent and acidu- \nlous ; violent rheumatic head-aches; prodigious bleed- \ning at the nose ; his legs swelled and dropsical, &c. \nHis physicians called it hypochondria, he himself con- \nsidered it prcmiaiura senectus, premature old age; so \nthat at twenty he had the symptoms, in addition to \ndisease, of fourscore ! To be more particular would \nbe disagreeable ; and to detail the innumerable reme- \ndies to which he was directed, or which he employed \nhimself, would add little to the stock of medical know- \nledge. He was certainly one of the most diseased and \nafflicted men that ever reached the full ordinary limits \nof human life. How, in such circumstances, he was \ncapable of the exertions he almost incessantly made, \nappears not a little mysterious. His behavior under \nthem is- a poignant reproof to many, who either sink \nentirely under common afflictions, or give way to \nindolence and trifling. For the acerbity of his temper \nwe are now prepared with an ample apology. That \nlie should have been occasionally fretful, and impatient \nof contradiction, is not surprising, considering the \nstate of the earthen vessel in which his noble and ac- \ntive spirit was deposited. No man was more sensible \nof his obliquities of disposition than himself; and no \nman, perhaps, ever did more to maintain the ascend- \nancy of Christian principle over the strength and way- \nwardness of passion.\" \n\nThe conviction that his time would be short, urged \nhim to prosecute his labors with unwearied assiduity. \nLove to immortal souls, too, exerted its powerful in- \n\n\n\n142 \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\nfluencc. This \"love to the souls of men,\" says Dr. \nBates, \"was ihe peculiar character of his spirit. In \nthis he imitated and honored our Savior, who prayed, \ndied, and lives for the salvation of souls. All his na- \ntural and supernatural endowments were subservient \nxo that blessed end. It was his meat and drink, the life \nand joy of his life to do good to souls.\" \n\nDisinterestedness formed no unimportant feature of \nhis character, and was strikingly marked in liis refusal \nof ecclesiastical preferment; his self-denying engage- \nments respecting his stipend at Kidderminster; his \ngratuitous labors ; abundant alms-giving ; and the wide \ndistribution of his works among the poor and destitute. \nSo long as he had a bare maintenance he was content. \nHe rejoiced in being able to benefit others by his pro- \nperty or his labors. \n\nFidelity to his Divine Master, and to his cause, was \nconspicuous in all his engagements. He tendered his \nadvice, or administered his reproofs with equal faith- \nfulness, whether in court or camp ; to the king or to \nthe protector; before parliament or his parishioners; \nin his conversation or his correspondence. He could \nnot suffer sin upon his neighbor ; and whatever he con- \nceived would be for the benefit of those concerned, thai \nhe faithfully, and without compromise, administered. \nIn his preaching he \" shunned not to declare the whole \ncounsel of God.\" \n\nDr. Bates remarks : He that was so solicitous for \nthe salvation of others, was not negligent of his own. \nIn him the virtues of the contemplative and active life \nwere eminently united. His time was ?pent in com- \nmunion with God, and in charity to men. He lived \nabove the world, and in solitude and silence conversed \nwith God. The frequent and serious meditation ol \n\n\n\nLIFE OF BAXTER. \n\n\n\n143 \n\n\n\neternal things was the powerful means to make his \nheart holy and heavenly, and from thence his conver- \nsation. His life was a practical sermon, a drawing ex- \nample. There was an air of humility and sanctity in \nhis mortified countenance ; and liis deportment was be- \ncoming a stranger upon earth and a citizen of heaven.\" \n\nThe following passage from his interesting impor« \ntant work, entitled \" The Divine Life,\" may be con- \nsidered as a portrait of his own spiritual character. \n\n\" To walk with God,\" he says, \" is a phrase so high, \nthat I should have feared the guilt of arrogance in \nusing it, if I had not found it in the Holy Scriptures. \nIt is a phrase that imports so high and holy a frame \nI of soul, and expresses such high and holy actions, that \nI the naming of it strikes my heart with reverence, as if \nI had heard the voice to Moses, ' Put off thy shoes \nfrom off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest \n1 is holy ground.' Melhinks he that shall say to me, \n'.. Come, see a man that walks with God, doth call me \n'! to see one that is next unto an angel or glorified soul. \n\nIt is a far more reverend object in mine eye than ttn \n! thousand lords or princes, coirsidered only in their \n1 earthly glory. It is a wiser action for people to run \nand crowd togetlier to see a man that walks with God, \n, than to see the pompous train of princes, their enter- \ni| tainments, or their triumph. O. happy man that walks \nI with God, though neglected and contemned by all \nabout him! What blessed sights does he daily see! \nj What ravishing tidings, what pleasant melody does lie \nj daily hear ! What delectable food does he daily taste ! \n. He sees, by faith, the God, the glory which the blessed \nj spirits see at hand by nearest intuition ! He sees that \nin a glass, and darkly, which they behold with open \nface ! He sees the glorious majesty of his Creator, the \n\n\n\n144 LIFE OF BAXTER. j \n\neternal King, the Cause of causes, the Composer, Up- \nholder, Preserver, and Governor of all worlds ! lie be- \nholds the wonderful nieihods of liis providence; and \n•what he cannot fully see he admires, and waits for \nthe time ^yhen that also shall be open to his view ! He \nsees, by: faith, the world of spirits, the liosts that attend \nthe throite of God ; ilieir perfect righteousness, the.r \nfull devotedness to God ; their ardent love, their flam- \ning zeal, their ready and cheerful obedience, their dig- \nnity and shining glory, in which the lowest of them \nexceed that wljich tiie disciples saw on Moses and \nElias, when they appeared on the holy mount and \n^ talked v.ilh Christ! He hears by faith the heavenly \nconcert, the high and harmonious songs of praise, the \njoyful triumphs of crowned saints, tne sweet comme- \nmorations of the things that v>ere done and suffered \non earth, with the praises of Him that redeemed them \nby .his blood, and made them kings and priests unto \nGod. Herein he has sometimes a sweet foretaste of the \neverlasting pleasures which, though it be but little, as \nJonathan's honey on the end of his rod, or as the clus- \nters brought from Canaan into the wilderness; yet is \nn)ore excellent than all the delights of sinners.\" \n\nHis character may be summed up in the words of \nT»Ir. Orme : \" Among his contemporaries there were \nmen of equal talents, of more amiable dispositions, and \nv{ greater learning. But there was no man in whom \nthere appears to liave been so little of earth, and so \nmuch of heaven ; so small a portion of the alloy of hu- \njnanity, and so large a portion of all that is celestial. \nHe felt scarcely any of the attractions of this world, \nbut felt and manifested the most powerful afiinity for \nthe world to come.\" \n\nEND. \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/memoirjamesbrai00ricegoog.txt",
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Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe. \n\nAbout Google Book Search \n\nGoogle's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers \ndiscover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web \n\nat |http: //books .google .com/I \n\n\n\n\\»>^/^/^ rI^3A \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\na \" \n\n\n\nf 1 . \n\n\n\nI \n\nr \n\n\n\n\n\n\n;, ..^ * ^*-ca6.,,^eii«fe,.. ^ \n\n\n\nI ^^ \n\n\n\nI „. V \n\n\n\nt - •• \n\n\n\n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n'i \n\n\n\n'i' \n\n\n\n% \n\n\n\n\n■ < \n\nI \n\n1 \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n1 \n\n,1 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n'*r - \n\n\n\n■■ \\ \n\n\n\n' •^^;:;^■; . \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n*-■., \n\n\n\n-J \n\n■J \n\n\n\n■» \n\n\n\nSf, \n\n\n\n\n:\"■• .-. ••«* ■■ •* •5#'- *•» \n\n\n\nMEMOIR \n\n\n\nOF \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOR \n\n\n\n\n\n\nJOHN HOLT RICE, D. D. \n\nAlTD \n\nBENJAMIN HOLT RICE, D. D. \n\n\n\nSECOND STEREOTYPE EDITION, \nKSTHED VmUER TBE lAKOntN OF THE ■URTIYINO COMPILBR. \n\n\n\nFDBLISHID BY \n\nTHE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n180 HAStAU-ITlUaT, 1IBW*Y011K. \n\n\n\n2>. FimbMWf Pirlater. \n\n\n\n\nJ /«^/ \n\n\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 183S| by \nKnowlbs Tatlor, in the Clerk's Office of the District Coart \nof the Southern District of New- York. \n\nRlffht of publbbing transferred to American Tract Society. \n\n\n\noov«a v«s. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. \n\n\n\nEARLY LIFE, TILL COMMEHCIirG ITUDT. \n\nBirth, childhood, and early youth— enten a itore in New- \nYork— conyerfion— labors inStibbath School — efforts for \ngood of others— sees a Missionary saU for India— contem- \nplates preparing for the Ministry— consults his parents- \ndecision to consecrate himself to this work— correspond- \nence with friends on the subject— determines on a tiio- \nrough course of preparation 9 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER U. \n\n\n\nFIRST TWO TEARS IN ACADEMY. \n\n\n\nTemptations resisted— exposure to sudden death— deserip- \ntion of the school— anticipations of the ministry— daily \nstudy of the Bible— establishes a weekly prayer-meeting, \nconnected with a Bible Class— Bible Class of Young La- \ndies in LawrenccTille— labors ''from house to house *'— ttf- \nforts for the salvation of his parents and relatiyes— la- \niBents his sinfulness— topics for meditation vod d«) Q \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n• \n\nthaiikfgiTfaig^N«w year*! letter to hif paranti— cfforte \nfor other relatiyei— letter to liii mother— to a friend pre- \nparing for the miniitry— obligation to present niefulneff \n— accompaniei Major Ridge to Cornwall— letter to an \naged clergynum— to hit parent!, 35 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER lU. \n\nC01IPLSTI05 OF HIS COVBfX IV TBS ACADIMT. \n\nAspirations for iacreaee of holiness— letter of aekaewledg. \nment from Major Radge— letter from one hreaght to \nChrist by his fidelity— his Tiew of qnaMfieations for the \nministry— special refreshing from the Holy Ghost* April \n23, 1823— increase of spirituality-desires to enter the \nministy immediately, but resolves on a course of tho- \nrough preparation-letters to christian friends urging a \nhigh standard of holiness— Memohr of Parsons— New \nYear's letter to his parents — Death of tiie Compiler, and \ncontinuation by another hand— bright anticipations of \nheayen— letters to an aged Clergyman— Sayor of Christ \nin all hiscorrespondence— great joy in God'-letters to a \nlady in affliction— Journal— wammg of danger of wealth \nand luxury— letter to an aged colored woman— steadfast \nanticipations of the ministry — great spiritual joys— let- \nters and journal— closes his studies in the Acadtmy^— \n*isite to friends and abundant labors, 74 \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\n\n\nFIRST TXAR IV COLLBOX. \n\n\n\nTcmptatioiii and trials of a CoUege life— pants for spiritual \nconrerse— letter to a fkmily— day of fasting— letter, \n\"Looking unto Jesus \"-Hrefreshing visit at Lawrence* \n▼ille— New Year's letter to his parents— efibrts to rouse \nothers to duty— letter to a brother— humiliation and joy \nin God— letter to afflicted relatires— to a lady apparently \nnear death— faithfulness to an individualr-blessing on his \nlabors In yacation— holy joys— college honor»--abundant \nand snecessftil labors in revirals in Connecticut in raea- \ntion— journal and letters, 108 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. \n\n\n\nSICOHD TXAR IN COLLXGX. \n\n\n\nLabors In connection with tiie Pastor of a Church in New- \nYork— letter of warning to a fnend— freedom firom secta \nrianism— to an aged colored woman— New Year's letter \nto his parents«-to a Cousin— to a Female Friend— Diary \n—to a Young Christian— Diary— requested to aid a neigh- \nboring clergyman— forgoes visit to his friends, and spends \nvacation in a revival— success of his labors— letter to the \nYoung Converts— to a young Lady— death of Summer- \nfield— to a minister of the Gospel, ^ \n\n\n\nCONTSHTS. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VL \n\n\n\nLA9T TSAR IN COLLBOK. \n\n\n\nLetter t»« Lady i» iSpeble healthf-4D a niter apparently \nnear death— lettera t» relf tiYee—acenied by a fellow stu- \ndent—New YMw^linM^ to parents— to an aged eler- \ngynaa— to a Cluristiaa^ fria^ijl and famtty— to a candidate \nfor the ministry— IHary— entire surrender to God— re- \nsoWes to labor for salTation of the students indiTidually \n—his gentleness— leUcr to a brother prepaiing for the \nministry— Diary— lear of sin— loTe of the BibI*— benefit \nof crosses-4o his brother, an officer in the chnreh— close \nof his college course, 807 \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VU. \n\nIN THX THEOLOGICAL SXMIHART. \n\nWant of health— Joins the Theological Seminary— to a fa- \nmfly at Princeton— to a Clergyman who had bled at the \nlungr— to his mother— labors in renrals of religion in \nConnecticut— conyersion of his friend L. P.— labors in re- \nligions meetinge— Bible Class— «uccesa— bleeds at the \nlungs— submission— aspirations for hearen— conrersation \nwith a friend in Tiew of his illness— to a brother, and a fe- \nmale friend— New Year's letters, 3M \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. ^ \n\n9 \n\nCHAPTER VUI. \n\n.f \n\nTISITS AT TBI S0UTH~SICK5XflS^DSATH— OOMOLVSIOH. \n\nVoyage to Charleiton, S. C^joumies at the South— let- \nters respectiog hit health^Divine consolationi— retarn \nCo New- York and Middle Haddam— lieenied to preach \nthe Goipel— letters to friends— Diary— embarki for \nPrince Edward, Va.— letters to friends— gradual decline \n-death—letters describing the closing scene— lettera \nreceiTed by the Compilers— Condasion, \n\n\n\nMEMOIR. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. \nEarly Life, till commencing Study, \n\nJABfES Brainerd Tatlor, son of Col. Jeremiah \nTaylor, of Middle-Haddam, Connecticut, was bom on \nthe 15th of April, 1801. His parents were in the com- \nmunion of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and \ngreatly respected in the circle of their acquaintance. \nOn the mother's side, he was connected with the family \nof Brainerd, a name to be held in remembrance as long \nas the devoted zeal of the self-denying missionary \nshall be had in honor. On the father^s side, an old \nrecord traces up the lineage to a branch of the family \nof Jeremy Taylor. But, while no wise man ever un- \ndervalued the benefits of being born of worthy parents, \nno one of right spirit ever relied on this providential \ncircumstante to bear him on through life. Our cha- \nracter depends on ourselves. So thought James B. \nTa> lor. And while he honored and revered his pa- \nrents with the truest filial affection, he went forth with \nthe spirit of genuine independence to make his own \nway in the world. \n\nOf his very early youth, the afiection of friends has \npreserved many r^llections of deep interest. He was \nparticularly distinguished by an affectionate vivacity, \nwhich greatly endeared him to his relatives, and made \nhim a general favorite in the circle in wYdc\\iYkftTCiON%^ \n\n\n\n10 MEMOIR OF \n\nThe first deep religious impressions on his mind \nwere made by an elder brother, who, while on a visit \nto his father, took occasion, after family worship, to \nmake some observations on a portion of Scripture, and \nto apply them to the state of those around him who \nwere out of Christ. He was affected even to tears ; \nand, for the first time in his life, went on his knees in \nsecret prayer. The feelings, however, which had \nbeen thus awakened, were almost entirely suppressed, \nin a way not at all unusual. James had been exceed- \ningly devoted to the gayeties of life, and was particu- \nlarly fond of dancing. Just about this time he was \nprevailed on by some young companions to go to a \nparty formed for this purpose in the neighboriiood. \nThe result was the loss of his seriousness, and the \ncommission of sins of which he never before had \nbeen guilty. No one ever resists the Holy Spirit, and \nsuppresses the convictions of his own heart, without \na great increase of sinfulness. \n\nIn this state of mind he was placed as a clerk in the \nstore of a merchant in New- York. Two brothers, \nboth older than himself, watched over him with all \nthe solicitude of fraternal affection ; and thus he was \npreserved from the paths of that destroyer which \nlurks in all our large cities, and takes in her snares so \nmany of our most hopeful young men. \n\nJames attended the ministry of the Rev. Dr. John \nB. Romeyn, pastor of the church then in Cedar-street, \nNew-York ; and there, at the age of fifteen, publicly \nprofessed his faith in Christ, and joined in commemo- \nrating his dying love. \n\n• Nothing in the history of his religious experience, \nat this time, shows it to have been very remarkable \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 11 \n\nIt appears, however, that as soon as he felt the trans- \nforming power of religious truth, he manifested a de- \ncided disposition to active benevolence, and readily \nengaged in such labors of love as a young man in his \nsituation could perform. His letters also show a great \nconcern for his younger brothers and sisters at home. \nWriting to a sister in the year 1815, he says : \" Tell \nthe dear little brothers and sisters the state of their \nhearts ; give them all the instruction you can as to \ntheir future w^are ; and O may the Lord draw them by \nthe cords of. lis everlasting love, and let his Spirit and \nblessing rest on them.\" In another fetter written to the \nsame relative, he gives this solemn exhortation : \" M — , \nas you are the oldest child of our dear parents, now at \nhome, do instruct our dear little brothers and sisters, \nand urge them to seek the salvation of their souls— \nfor it is your duty.\" \n\nIt appears, indeed, that afterwards he had a very low \nopinion of his religious attainments at this time. Yet \nhis correspondence was almost entirely on the subject \nof religion, frequently indicating a deep sense of obli- \ngation ; and, though he was obliged during the whole \nweek to perform the laborious services of a merchant^ \nclerk in a place of great commercial activity, he en- \ngaged with great alacrity as a teacher in the Sabbath \nschool ; and his letters breathe a deep solicitude in be- \nhalf of the children comniitted to his care. i \n\nThe compiler of this little work gladly takes this \nopportunity of recording the very valuable services ren- \ndered to the community by many young men in simi- \n'lar situations. And they deserve the higher approba- \ntion on account of the peculiarly disadvantageous <L\\t-> \ncomstances in which they are placed. lAxx\\e ^o \"^ \n\n\n\n■■■i \n\n\n\n■^ \n\n\n\n12 MBMOIR OF \n\nrents think to what danger they expose their sons \nwhen they send them to a merchant's counting-house \nm a large city. Removed from all the sacred influences \nof domestic life, and surrounded hy ten thousand temp* \ntations, they usually have no society but that of lads \nin their own situation. With but little previous edu- \ncation, and of course few mental resources, it is not \nso much wondered at, as deplored, that when the busi- \nness of the day is over, they should seek relaxation \nand amusement in those places near which the destroy- \ner is always lurking; and that often, before their time \nof service is expired, they should have acquired habits \nof dissipation, and a love of pleasure, too strong lor \ntheir principles of honor and morality. Nor is it sur- \nprising that, in many cases, the interests of the em- \nployer should greatly suffer from the profligateness of \nhis clerks. \n\nSurely the value of religion cannot be too highly \nappreciated, when it is sufficient to preserve the youug, \namidst all other temptations, from debasing pleasures \nand extravagant amusements. Of the strength of this \nprinciple of action there is very strong evidence af- \nforded by the Sabbath schools of our cities. While \nthousands, on the Lord's day, are pouring out through \nevery avenue, under the pretence that their health re- \nquires a ride or a walk into the country ; and while every \ntavern and tipling shop in the vicinity is swarming with \nnumbers, high in revelry and riot, there are hundreds \nof young people, of both sexes, who need amusement \nand relaxation as much as any others, and who seek \nand find it in the delightful exercise of a most benefit \ncial charity. They meet the children of the poor ; they \neven go among the outcasts of society, and take up \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 13 \n\nthe neglected, and speak words of kindness to them, \nand teach them to read the precepts of the purest mo- \nrality, and cause them to hear the lessons of heavenly \nwisdom. Thus, with every right feeling of the human \nheart greatly strengthened and refreshed hy the con- \nsciousness of voluntary efforts to do good, they re- \nreturn to the labors of the week, more happy in them- \nselves, and more deserving of the confidence of others \nthan ever. If the gratitude of the community has no \ncivic crown to reward such services, there is One, who \nwill hereafter bestow the meed of approbation, when \nhe shall say, \" Well done, good and faithful servants, \nenter into the joy of your Lord.\" \n\nIn employments of this beneficial character James \nB. Taylor took great delight ; and the peculiar kind* \nness of his disposition induced him to engage in teach- \ning the people of color, of whom there are very consi- \nderable numbers in New- York, and who have been \ngreatly neglected in all the efibrts to do good which \nhad preceded the establishment of Sabbath schools. \n'* I am engaged,\" said he, in a letter to one of his \nsisters, dated April 5, 1818, \" in a Sunday school — a \npleasing task indeed ! I have in my class eight, be- \ntween the ages of 19 and 40. Some of them learn, du- \nring the week, to recite, on Sunday, one, two and three \nchapters in the Bible. We have in our school about \nserenty regular attendants, between 16 and 72 years \nof age. O how that race has been neglected ! But \nI trust that the time has come for them to know more \nof their Creator. There have been many converts, and \nsome, both teachers and scholars, have connected \nthemselves with the church, who ascribe their convic- \ntions to the influence of Sunday schools. We ey.\\i^« \n\n2 J.B.T»v^ot. \n\n\n\n14 MEMOIR OF \n\na great day at the anniversary. We shall probably \nmeet in the Park, with all the children, about five \nthousand. These children, or most of them, were \nonce, I may say, vagabonds, wandering about the \nsireets, and committing the worst of crimes.\" Such \nwere the first openings of a christian character, which \nafterwards rose to great eminence, and shone out \nwith exceeding lustre. In the present day, opportunities \nof doing good are so brought home to every individual, \nthat if any one is contented with the determination to \ngp to heaven by himself, and let others alone, he pro- \nbably needs no other evidence to prove that he is not a \nChristian at all. \n\nIn letters to his friends, James B. Taylor, by sta- \nting facts showing the great usefulness of Sabbath \nschools, and by earnest exhortations, urged them to \nset up similar institutions in their neighborhoods. In \nevery way he endeavored, when a youth of only six- \nteen, to be the cause of good to others. \n\nWhen young men are sent from the country to a large \ncity, and become engaged in its business and pleasures, \nthey generally are weaned from home ; and its simple \npleasures are regarded with contempt. This is one of \nthe truest signs of corruption ; and is an omen too sure, \nof the ruin which is soon to follow. If religion is not \nthe only, it is certainly the best preservative from evils \nof this kind. Under its influence, James B. Taylor \nmaintained all the simplicity of his character, and re- \ntained all his love of home, his filial and fraternal af- \nfection, in full vigor. Under date of Nov. 15, 1818, he \nwrites : \n\n\" It would give me great pieasure to receive a letter \n'* ^m my kind mother. I can never repay your good- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEBD TATL^R. 15 \n\nness to me in my younger days. But I hope that He who \nalone can give happiness, will reward you a hundred \nfold. I never can, and I never would erase from my \nmemory the kind admonitions which I have received \nfrom your lips. I never can sufficiently thank the Lord \nthat my parents have heen so good to me. And it is \nimpossible for me to express how much I love and es- \nteem you. For this also I desire to be thankful. I es- \nteem it a great blessing.\" \n\nIn many other letters addressed to his parents, simi- \nlar sentiments are expressed in similar language. And \nthe same strong natural affection was ever shown to- \nwards his brothers and sisters. But religion is the \ngreat subject of every letter; and the most intense de- \nsire that the whole family might become disciples of \nJesus Christ, and partakers of his salvation, is mani- \nfested in every page. \n\nIn his correspondence, as carried on from year to \nyear, there are clear indications of a growth of reli- \ngious feeling, and increased consistency of religious \ncharacter ; giving promise that one so devoted in early \nlife would be employed by the Head of the church in \nsome remarkable way for the advancement of his cause. \n\n.He was now pleasantly situated as a merchant's \nclerk, with a kind-hearted, pious man, whom he great* \nly loved. His prospects were entirely favorable. But \nbefore the close of 1819, he determined to abandon his \npursuits, renounce his hopes of becoming rich, and de- \nvote himself to the ministry of the Gospel. The pro- \nvidence of God was plainly in this whole affair. \n\nA physician in New- York, in full practice, and wil' \na rising reputation, had determined to ^^ \\ea.\\e ^W^\"^ ^ \n\n\n\n16 MEMOIR OF \n\ngo with his family as a missionary to the East Indiefti \nHis departure from the city excited great intereRt. \nJames was engaged in his ordinary business, when a \nyoung christian friend, on passing his door, called, \nand asked him to accompany him to the wharf, ^^ to \nsee Dr. Scudder off.\" The invitation was readily ac- \ncepted. The scene and the effect produced may be \ntold in his own words : \n\n\" New-York, May 24, 1819. \n^^ This morning I witnessed a scene highly interest- \ning to the heart of a Christian. It caused thanksgiv- \ning and praise to rise from my heart, and tears to flow \nfrom my eyes. I saw a missionary and his wife take \ntheir departure from this port for India, to declare \namong the heathen the unsearchable riches of Christ. \nHow pleasing is it to see the Lord, from time to time, \nraising up one and another to make known his truth \nto the children of men, and sending them to those whc- \nhave never heard the voice of mercy, have never been \ntold of a Savior from sin, nor of a way of escape from \nthe wrath to come. Let us rejoice in what he has \ndone, is doing now, and has promised to do in time to \ncome, for his church. On looking back thirty years, \nthere were no Bible, no Missionary, no Tract Societies, \nnor Sabbath Schools. But now, we see them ?iU, \nand hear of their happy results. We also see socie- \nties for the education of pious youth for the ministry, \nwho, I trust, will prove a blessing to millions yet un- \nborn. Christians, at this time, seem to be exerting \nthemselves for the cause of Zion ; and while one min- \nister is going among foreign pagans, another is taking \nhis station among the Indians. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIITERD TAYLOR. 17 \n\n'' This, I think, is not ^ a day of small things.' Yet \nmuch remains to he done. And all the followers of \nChrist ought to be more concerned and engaged for a \n^ world which lieth in wickedness.' We must also \nbe more careful about our own growth in grace, and \nadvancement in the divine life. For it would be a \npoor charity to neglect our own salvation in securing \nthat of others. \n\n^^ The missionary who has just left us, was former- \nly a physician in this city. This circumstance will be \nof great advantage, for he will be able to administer \nto the diseases of the body as well as the mind. It \nmay be said of him and his wife, that they have left \nall, and followed their Savior. They counted not the \nblessings of home, and friends, or even their own lives, \njdear unto themselves, that they might ' win Christ,' \nand win others to him. \n\n\" I had the pleasure of being introduced to Dr. and \nMrs. Scudder. He appeared cheerful ; Mrs. Scudder \nwas bathed in tears, but yet rejoicing. They were sur- \nrounded by many acquaintances and friends ; and we \ncan with difficulty imagine their feelings when, just \nabout to leave home, and country, and all the blessings \nof Christian society, they heard one and another say, \n'my friend, my sister, farewell, for ever !' Just as the \nsteamboat was moving off, one of the Doctor's friends, \nwho came too late to go on board, called out and bade \nhim adieu, wishing him a pleasant passage. I shall \nnever forget Dr. Scudder's looks, or his words. As h^ \ntpoke, his eye kindled, and his cheek glowed with the \nardor of christian benevolence. He waved his hand, \nand with a benignant smile on his countenance, said, \n* Only give me your prayers, and that is all I ask.' \n\n2* \n\n\n\n18 MEMOIR OP \n\n^ He if now gone — gone never to see his fiiends \nagain in this world : — \n\n* Go, meMengefy and bear \n* Upon thy gentle wing. \nThe long which seraphs love to hear, \n'And angels joy to sing.' \n\n\" I have felt, since this morning, as though I would \nbe willing to forsake my ever-dear father and mother, \nbrothers and sisters, and country, for my Savior's sake \nand the Gospel's. I have also thought, perhaps my pre- \nsent business is not to be my future employ. Yes, the \nLord may have in reserve for me, unworthy as I am, a \nsituation far different from my present one. May I \nfver be led in the path of duty, this has been my pray- \ner this day : and I have, more than at any former time, \nfelt the importance of crying, ' Lord, make me to know . \nmy duty, and give me a heart to perform it.' Yes, my \nLord does know all my desires, and hears all my \niighs.'' \n\nAgain ha writes: \n\n'^ On seeing Dr. Scudder take his last leave of his \nfriends, and of the people on shore, with a true mis- \nsionary spirit, I felt a tenderness towards the poor \nheathen, to whom he was going, which caused my \neyes to overflow, I thought that I would be willing \nto change my sitoation for his. On returning home, \nI felt that I could not attend to business. My de- \niire was to spend that day with the Lord. I retired \nfor piayer, and found the exercise sweet. My mind \nwas impressed with the necessity for more ministers \nof the Gfospel ; and many reasons presented them* \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOR. 19 \n\nselyes, why I should devote my life to the good of my \nfellow-meR in that situation.\" \n\nThe desire, which was thus awakened, grew in \nstrength. But no hasty resolution was taken. He con- \nMilted with those in whose judgment he confided ; and \nwith that warm filial afiection and reverence which \ncharacterized him, asked counsel of his parents : \n\n\" New- York, May, 1819. \n\n\" Will it not give you pleasure to hear of my desir- \ning to enter on a course of study for the ministry of \nreconciliation ? Yes, my dear father, I have heen led, \nwithin the course of a few weeks past, to think serious- \nly on this subject. When I turn my eyes to the exten- \nsive fields which are presented to my view, they seem \nto be ' white unto the harvest.' The language of Scrip- \nture is surely applicable to the present time, — * The \nharvest truly is great, but the laborers are few.' The \ncalls of Providence are loud to young men to de- \nvote themselves to the ministry. And to whom can \nthe Church look but to her sons for this service 1 The \npopulation of this country is growing very rapidly, and \nthe proportion of its increase is much beyond that of \nthe faithful ministers of the Gospel. The call of des- \ntitute churches in different parts of our country is, \n^ Come over and help us.' The voice of the Indians \non our borders is, ^ Come and make known to us the \nSavior, that we perish not.' The superstition and idol- \natry of the heathen, beyond the seas, urge us to go \nand preach the Gk>spel, and proclaim to them the glad \ntidings of salvation. When we think of the Hindoos, \nwho offer their own children in sacrifice to appease \nIhcir offended gods : whose worship is a worse than \n\n\n\n20 MEMOIR OF \n\nuseless superstition ; who, on going down to the \ngrave, have no Savior on whom to repose, and no hope \nof awaking to a happier life to come, — how can we \nhelp feeling for them ! Surely every benevolent heart \nlongs for their salvation. The heathen are promised \nto Christ for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts \nof the earth for his possession. To whom can they \nlook but to us who are Christians 7 And does not \nGod require us to be co-workers with him in the exe- \ncution of his grand designs ? Means always have been, \nand probably always will be used by the Lord, for \nevangelizing the nations. There is a want of faith- \nful ministers throughout the world. \n\n'^ Now, when I reflect on the goodness and mercy \nof the Lord towards our family, in bringing the chil- \ndren, as they grow up, to be acquainted with his ways, \nand to become his professed followers, it seems to me \nas though some of the number were called to devote \nthemselves to him in the work of the ministry. We \nhave been brought to profess his name at an early age. \nMay God make known to us the path of duty, and \ngive us a heart to walk therein. \n\n^^ He who enters on this great work ought to weigh \nthe matter well, knowing that many go without being \ncalled. In leaving my present business to engage in \nthe ministry, I do not expect more ease or worldly \ncomfort. Far from it ! The life of a minister, who is \nfaithful to his Master, to himself, and to those around \nhim, is not only laborious, but full of trials. Yet, do- \ning good to the souls of men, and giorifying God, is \nmore than double compensation for all the hardships \nand crosses which the devoted servant of Christ is \nsubjected to. Very erroneous views are entertained \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 21 \n\nby many respecting the life of a minister. It has heen \nsupposed that it is easy. But the most arduous labors \nof a clergyman are not visible to the world. They \nare performed in his study. Let people follow him to \nthat place, and see him praying, reading, examining, \ncomposing — they will then have very different thoughts. \nBut only they who have entered on this course know \nall the bitter and the sweet connected with it. The \nresponsibility which presses on the mind of a truly \nconscientious minister is probably more trying than \nany other species of care and anxiety. Self-denial is \nalso necessary in a minister, as indeed it is in all \nChristians. It is the very foundation of all active re- \nligion. Without it nothing can be done to purpose in \nthe great work of reforming the world — this world that \nlieth in sin. \n\n\" Do you ask me whether I am willing to leave my \npresent business ? It would indeed be a cross to leave \n\nMr. H , for he is one of the best of men. Some may \n\nthink, if they do not say, that I am a fool for wishing to \ngive up my present employment, which bids fair to make \nme rich, and which is far more honorable in the sight \nof the world. To this I can reply, and I do think from \nthe heart, that I am willing to give up my present si- \ntuation, with all its prospects, for one in which I think \nthat I can be more useful. As for the riches of this \nworld, I do not expect to find happiness in them; and the \nmore I think on the condition of the ' christian poor, \nwho do not want,' the more I am convinced that they \nenjoy higher happiness than those who share largely \nin the good things of the present life. The cottages \nof humble Christians are more honorable than the pa- \nlaces of the rich, where there is no fear nor love of \n\n\n\n22 MEMOIR OF \n\nGod The language of my heart is, Lord, whatever \nmay be denied to me — health, friends, and comforts of \nthis life — let me never be denied the light of thy coun- \ntenance, and thy loving kindness. \n\n'* The number of ministers necessary adequately to \nsupply the United States, is estimated at more than \n11,000. There is thought to be at present less than \none-fourth of that number. What is wanting to en- \ncourage one to engage in this all-interesting service ? \nWhy should not the call for more laborers be heard \nby me 7 Surely, if I have been called from ' darkness \nto light,' it should be my chief aim and desire to point \nout the way t«f salvation to others. \n\n\"But sometimes my heart. shrinks when I think of \nentering on this service. I have so much to go through \nbefore I can appear in the pulpit ; and then to come \nbefore the world — I am terrified by the anticipation. \n\n\"I have now stated my feelings, and submit the \nsame for your consideration. I hope that they may \nmeet your views, and receive your approbation. I \ndoubt not that they will. My desire is to leave all, \nand become an ambassador for Christ. Of the dif- \nficulties in my way, the most prominent at present is \nthe want of funds. I wish you to inform me whether \nyou feel able and i^illing to support me through my \ncourse of study. \n\n\" Should I enter on the work of ^ the ministry, there \nare these promises to comfort and sustain me. Luke, \n12 : 42, ^ Who is that faithful and wise servant, whom \nhis Lord shall make ruler over his household, to give \nthem their meat in due season V Ver. 43, ' Blessed is \nthat servant, whom his Lord, when he cometh, shaU \nfind so doing.^ Matt. 28 : 20, ' Teaching them to oh- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 23 \n\nserve all things whatsoever I have commanded you ; \nand lo, I wax with . you alway, even unto the end of \nthe world.' Dan. 12:3, ^ And they that be wise shall \nshine as the brightness of the firmament ; and they \nthat turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever \nand ever. Luke, 21 : 15, ^ 1 will give you a mouth and \nwisdom whicli all your adversaries shall not be able \nto gainsay or resist.' \n\n\" I can say no more at present. My heart is open \nbefore the Lord, and I wait the direction of his provi- \ndence. Please to give me an early reply, and state your \nviews on the subject. There can be no objection on \naccount of my age. Cf my natural talents I wish you \nto be judge. \n\n^' Your afiectionate son, Jambs.\" \n\nAfter receiving an answer to this letter, he conti- \nnued for some time in the employment of Mr. H— , \nfaithfully discharging his duty as a clerk, and endea- \nvoring in his place to do good. \n\nDuring the summer of 18 19, New- York was visited \nwith the yellow fever. It was a time of great alarm. \nBut this served only to show the strength and steadi- \nness of his religious principles. While engaged in \nduty, he appeared to have no fears or anxieties for \nhimself. To his parents he writes thus : c^i \n\n\" A>W:rs tqy Sepiemher 10, 1819. \n\" Probably you have by is prorfme he«rd of the yei- \nlow fever in New-York, troy TtfiB '^ ^^j ^rgglvps some \nanxiety about your childra cB^eif The fever has ar^ \nyet spread much, and it Ia remoiia^jpomus. Atfresac- \nthere is not much occasion to be Idumed. \n\n\n\n24 MEMOIR OF \n\n'' You hslve this one thing, my dear parentt, to com- \nfort you. Your children here have an intere^n the Sa- \nvior, at whose command are all the diseases to which \nwe are subject. They can proceed as far as he wills, \nand no farther. How can we be thankful enough to \nhim, who has called us to the knowledge of the truth ! \nAs the Lord has sustained us in times past, let us trust \nhim for that which is to come. This seems to be my \nlanguage : — * Lord, I would trust thee : I desire to be \nwilling to submit to the ordering of thy providence, \nwhether it send sickness or health, life or death ; for I \nknow that all things shall work together for my good.\" \n\nThrough the agency of his beloved pastor, the way \nwas soon opened for him to enter on studies prepara- \ntory to the ministry in the academy at Lawrenceville, \nN. J., in view of which he thus gives utterance to his \nfull heart in letters to his parents and friends : \n\n\"J>rew-York, November 16, 1819. \n**My dearly beloved Father and Mother, \n\n\" I begin my letter in the language of the Psalmist — \n* Bless the Lord, O my soul ; and all that is within me, \nbless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my sonl, and \nforget not all his benefits.' It may be truly said, that the \nways of the Lord are not as our ways, nor his thoughts \nas our thoughts ; ai^ that his dealings with his chil- \n, dren are often very vQM'ent from their expectations. \nThus my heavenly F»hful .has dealt with me, his dis- \nobedient and.n^t^lJ^ ove.d, in opening the way that \n* *^^ miy be prepareaia^^^Ui^'h the everlasting Gospel. \n*\"** 1 8, my dea^ paren^.s, I have concluded to leave my \n\"^\" resent empjoyment, to prepare for the ministrv. This \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 25 \n\ndetermination has met writh the approbation of all my \nfriends liere, as far as I have communicated it to them* \nMr. H. my employer, on learning the circumstances \nof the case, and my wishes, instead of making a single \nobjection, immediately said, go ! and added, that he \nshould rejoice in it, if I were called to that work. He \nalso lamented that, in the present great want of faith- \nful laborers in the vineyard of the Lord, so few young \nmen were inclined to devote themselves to the service \nof Christ in the church. Was not this favorable 1 My \nbrother, (to whom I am under many obligations, and \nwhom I love both as a brother in the flesh and in the \nIjord,) on hearing my statements, said that he saw no \nobjections to my going, and that as to what I owed, it \nshould raise no difficulty, for he would take care of \nthat. \n\n\" In view of these circumstances, I am constrained \nCo adore and praise a gracious Providence, and to ask, \nwhat is there now to hinder my going forward ? I can \nsee nothing. I do not desire the office on account of \nworldly praise or honor, but, as I hope, for the glory \nof Gk)d, connected with the salvation of my fellow- \nmen. \n\n^^My heart at times rejoices in the prospect of being \nUseful to my fellow-sinners, and at times it shrinks \nback from the many difficulties which rise to my view. \nThe life of a faithful minister (and such may I be, if \nadmitted to the office) appears to me to be more glo- \nrious than any other. He is prompted by true benevo- \nlence ; he labors not to destroy men's souls, but to save \nthem. He is engaged in a cause which must prosper, \nfor Christ is the head. He shall receive .a reward ac« \ncoidmg to Christ's promise. \n\n3 l.li.T«:S^«t» \n\n\n\n2l^ M£MOia OF \n\n\"The land is greatly destitute of devoted and able \nministers. The harvest truly is great, and the laborers \nare few. My heart is turned towards this work ; and \none proof of my being called to it, as it seems to me, \nis that I have lost that relish for my business which I \nonce had, and am willing to be poor, if I only may be \nuseful in my Master's cause. In entering on my course \nI have nothing to fear but the conmiission of sin ; but \nevery thing to encourage me. The men of this world, \nafter having accomplished their plans, are often at a \nloss to what they shall turn next, and are unhappy for \nwant of something in which to employ themselves \nwith interest. But it is not so with the devoted ser- \nvant of Christ. The world is the field of his labors. \nHe always has enough to do, and is assured that his \nlabor shall not be in vain. It will be sweet and animat- \ning in his last hours to reflect that he has lived to some \ngood purpose ; that he has served the Lord by serving \nothers. And if he can know that he has been mstru- \nmental in turning sinners from the error of their ways, \nand saving souls from death, it will be matter of ever- \nlasting thankfulness and praise. May this joy, my \ndear parents, be mine, to the glory of divine grace ! \n\n\" In reflecting on this subject, I am led to ask, Ca7i, \nCAN it be, that the Lord will raise me up to be one of \nhis servants in the ministry — me ! who am so igno- \nrant, so helpless, so needy ? But while I am ignorant, \nhelpless, needy, I know that my Lord is wise, power- \nful, and possesseth all things. Him I love — him I \nwould serve and obey. \n\n\" I shall probably take my departure from New-York \nfoi Lawrenceville, near Princeton, New-Jersey* There \nI expect to spend two years in academical studies. Af- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. S7 \n\nter which I shall spend three years in some college; \nwhence I shall repair to a theological seminaiy, and \nstudy probably three years more. The time socms \nlong : but this is the prescribed course. \n\n\" Now, taking things as they appear, does not the \nlanguage of Providence seem to say, go ? In doing \nthis, I would be mindful that I must deny all ungod- \nliness, and every worldly lust, and live soberly, righ- \nteously, and godly. In pursuing this course, I must bo \nholy in heart and in life. Humility becomes the fol- \nlowers of Jesus — I must possess much of this grace. \nAs a minister of Christ, I must be willing to forsake \nall, and follow him. I know that there are many and \nawful responsibilities connected with this office ; such \nas do not rest on other Christians. The Lord knows \nthis too, and imparts grace sufficient for them. But \nhe who, whether minister or private Christian, has \nthe glory of God singly in view, need not fear the \nworld^ the flesh, nor the devil, for he shall be brought \noff more than conqueror. ' They who put their trust \nin him shall never be confounded.' \n\n\" Trusting in the Lord for strength, and confiding in \nhim alone for help, I will go forAvard, hoping that I \nshall be made a workman that need never be ashamed ; \na faithful soldier of the cross, having always the glory \nof Grod and the good of my fellow-men at heart. \n\n\"My dear parents, I now see that the world has had \ntoo much pf my time. The remainder, I trust, will be \nspent more in the service of my blessed Lord. And \nmay you find increasing delight in * serving without \nceasing.' Our stay here is short. The time is not far \ndistant when death will enter our family. And shall it \nbe my father, my dear father, or my deai mo\\\\\\«t,^\\ift- \n\n\n\nMEMOIR OF \n\nloyed brother or sister, who shM Jirst be consigned to \nthe tomb ? My father, mother, brothers and sistern, \nall be prepared ; being washed, being sanctified, be- \ning justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the \nSpirit of our God. \n\n'^ Your affectionate son, \n\n\"James\" \n\nUnder a subsequent date, he writes : \n\n\" The time necessary forme to go through the course \nmarked out, is eight years. I hope that in the discharge \nof my duty during this period I may be useful, \n\n\" The Lord has laid me under great obligations to \nbe thankful, by singling me but from the rest of the \ndear family for this service. And I hope that you, my \nbeloved father and mother, cease not to thank and \npraise him, that he has condescended to confer this \nhonor on me. Should I be found a faithful minister of \nthe Gospel, and you, with me, be admitted into the \nupper sanctuary, this one thing will no doubt be a \ntheme on which we shall dwell with everlasting plea- \nsure.\" \n\nTo his sister, in a letter of the same date, he thus \nexpresses his views of the solemnity of the work m \nwhich he was about to engage : \n\n\" This age seems to require that a minister should \nbe thoroughly furnished for his work. They who have \nthe greatest store of knowledge, connected with true \npiety, have the best opportunities of doing good. But \nwhile I set so great a value on a good education, I \nwould not be understood to say that education is a \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 20 \n\nmatter of the highest importance. Pure and undefiled \nreligion is the chief thing in the character of a minis- \nter of the Gospel. Without it he cannot he useful. \nHe who does not possess love to God ; who has never \nbeen * born of water and the Spirit ;' who docs not \nfeel the worth of immortal souls, and who does not \npreach as a dying and accountable man to perishing \nand accountable beings, is not worthy of the name ol \na minister of Jesus Christ. Feeling the awful respon- \nsibility which is to rest on me should I enter this of- \nfice, as I hope in due time to do, I am ready to say, \n* Who is sufficient for these things?' The Lord alone \ncan be my helper. Having him as ' my rock of de- \nfence,' I need fear nothing. I hope that the language \nof my heart is, * none but Christ ;' and that the tenor \nof my life will be in conformity to it. My dear sister, \nthe Lord has been kind to us in days that are past. \nHe has given us reason and made us capable of enjoy- \ning him. He has brought us in early life to seek \nhim, that we may * be found in him :' let us then de- \nvote the remainder of life to his service. Let us not \nbe content with barely getting to heaven ourselves ; \nbut in seeking our own salvation, let us also seek \nthat of others. I have often thought that, should my \nlife be spared to enter the ministry, and should the \nblessing of my Master enable me to do some little \ngood in the world, the reflection would be sweet and \ncheering in a dying hour. And in the eternal world, \nhow delightful must it be to find souls in the enjoy- \nment of everlasting rest, who have been brought there \nthrough our instrumentality ! Let us set out then with \nrenewed diligence, and endeavor to do something for \nthe glory of our Redeemer and the salvation oi! ^vckXkSt^- \n\n3* \n\n\n\n30 MEMOIR OF \n\nTo another friend he urges the following request: \n\n\" As I have it now in prospect to enter the ministry \nlet me solicit an interest in your prayers. Pray^that \nI may, indeed, be willing to forsake all, and follow \nChrist ; that I may be meek and lowly ; a workman \nthat need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of \ntruth, and giving lo every one a portion in due season ; \nthat I may, as *• before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, \nwho shall judge the quick and dead at his appearing \nand his kingdom, preach the word ; be instant in sea- \nson and out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with \nall long suffering and doctrine ;' that I may be blame- \nless, not a novice lifted up with pride ; that I may hold \nthe mystery of faith in a pure conscience, and be holy \nin heart and in life, a child of God, without rebuke.-' \n\nTo a young friend, who had entered on a prepara- \ntaty course of study a little time before him, he un- \nfolds himself with much freedom. \n\n\" You having entered on your studies for the minis- \ntry, and I having the same thing in prospect, we ought \nto unite in grateful acknowledgments to the Lord, that \nhe has given us a desire for this service. We are told \nt>y an inspired apostle, that ' he who desireth the office \nof a bishop, desireth a good work.^ On asking myself \nwhat reason I have to believe that the Lord has called \nme to preach the Gospel, I reply : My desire has con- ; \ntinned for a considerable time, and has been strong. \nMy wish is to glorify Qod, and be useful to my fellow- \nmen. Providence has, in a clear manner, opened the \nway for me. Far be it from me to take this holy office \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 31 \n\non myself, unless I am ' called of Gk)d, as was Aaron.' \nBut the time seems to have arrived, when I ought to \ngo and prepare for preaching the Grospel. During my \npreparation, and through life, I expect to meet with \ntrials. Those of a minister are, often, of no ordinary \nkind. But as are his trials, so will be his joys, if in- \ndeed he has pure and undefiled religion. This is, above \nall things, necessary. And as ' God resisteth the proud, \nbut giveth grace to the humble,' how important is it \nthat we should cultivate humility. ' He that exalteth \nhimself shall be abased, but he that humbleth himself \nshall be exalted '—exalted to fellowship with the Fa- \nther and his Son Jesus Christ ; and in being made a fit \ntemple for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. In pros- \npect of this, I have felt willing to be poor. If I can \nonly be useful, it will be enough for me. But self- \ndenial is indispensable for a minister : may I be will- \ning to deny myself, and take up my cross ! \n\n'' I feel desirous to go- to my work, and to be aboat \nmy Master's business. But I must be detained here a \nwhile longer. When I am awake, my mind is at all \ntimes on* this subject. My relish for business is gone, \nand I shall not feel that I am in the right place, until \nI am at my studies. When that time shall come, I hope \nthat I may so improve in virtue and knowledge, that \nI shall glorify God, and meet the expectations of my \nfriends. \n\n\" My Christian brother, permit me to request that \ncommunicate with me as you may find time ; and \nas you are older in religion than I am, I shall look to \nyou to give me such advice as may aid my growth in \ngrace. As we have a common Lord, are aiming at the \ntame heaven, amidst the same difficulties and dan^ets^ \n\n\n\n32 MEMOIR or \n\nlet us bear each oiher on the heart, when we go to a \nthrone of grace.\" \n\nIn another letter to the same friend, he speaks of the \nlong time to be employed in preparation for the minis< \ntry ; and expresses the hope that he might be useful \nwhile prosecuting his studies. To this he adds a sen- \ntiment of very great value to all who are preparing for \nthe ministry. It seems that he had expected, on enter- \ning his course, that he should enjoy the fullest oppor- \ntunities of reading the Bible, meditation, and prayer in \nsecret. But better information convinced him that so \nmany hours would be occupied every day in literary \nand scientific pursuits, that very little time would re- \nmain for those delightful employments. He therefore \nresolved to carry religion as fully as possible into his \nstudies ; and daily engage in them, with the thought \nthat thus he might be rendered useful in the vineyard \nof the Lord. \n\nHis purposes and resolutions in relation to those \nwho might be his fellowrstudents, also show the true \nspirit of christian prudence and benevolence; To the \nsame friend he writes after this manner: — \"I hope \nthat those with whom we shall associate, will be of \nthe right cast ; and that we shall be very cautious with \nwhom we form intimate connections. But let us, by \nthe meekness of our temper and the kindness of qui \ndeportment, by devotedness to the cause of our l^e- \ndeemer, and the earnestness of our wishes to promote \nthe real happiness of those around us, interest them in \nus and gain their affections. Let the saying of Paul \nbe our motto, ' Follow peace with all men, and Ao2£- \nnessy without which no man shall see the Lord.' '' \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 33 \n\nShortly after the date of this letter, he joined the \nacademy at Lawrenceville. under charge of the Rer. \nIsaac y. Brown, and began his preparatory studies. \nThe reader cannot but have remarked the earnestness \nof his desire to enter the ministry ; the singleness of his \nmotives in desiring the sacred office ; and the grateful \njoy mianifested, when Providence rendered plain the \nway for him to begin his studies. With the utmost ala- \ncrity he left an employment which promised wealth, \nand all the consideration in the world which wealth in- \nsures, and devoted himself to the service of the church, \nwith the expectation of being poor and laboring hard \nduring his whole life. In all this, however, there was \nnone of the rashness of a young enthusiast, but the \ndeliberate self-denial of a true Christian. He adopted \nno plan, he took no step without first consulting his \nparents and most judicious friends, and obtaining their \napprobation. \n\nAt the age of nineteen he was willing to sit down \nto a course of eight years' study, that he might be qua- \nlified for usefulness, and, in some measure at least, \nprepared to meet the awful responsibilities of the mi- \nnisterial office. These responsibilities he deeply felt * \nand while he most earnestly desired to be a preacher \nof the Grospel, he was too conscientious and too pru- \ndent to rush into it without that mental discipline, \nand that culture of the heart which would, in his own \n^kAiberate judgment, justify him in going forward as \nA teacher of others. \n\nHe who teaches religion, has to teach persons of all \nclasses — the master spirits of the nation, who expect \njustjfiess and force of thought, propriety of language, \nenlarged and liberal views, united with ^' the meek- \n\n\n\n34 BIEMOIB OF \n\nness of hearenlf wisdom:\" — and the uninstrocted \npoor, who need that the tnith should be set forth in \nterms so clear and familiar, that they cannot be mis- \ntaken. The man of real learning alone is able to per- \nform this service. Accustomed to investigation, he ar- \nranges his thoughts in a natural order ; habituated to \nthe search after truth, he employs words with preci- \nsion; and knowing how greatly the energy of lan- \nguage is increased by simplicity, he uses \" great plain- \nness of speech.\" Whereas, the untaught and the half \ntaught foolishly imagine that they are great and pro- \nfound, in proportion as they are unintelligible. The \nmost eloquent men whom I have ever known, such as \nPatrick Henry and John Randolph, among statesmen ; \nand James Waddell and James Turner, among preach- \ners, were remarkable for the simplicity of their man- \nner and the perfect intelligibleness of their language. \nThey made every one, learned and rude, feel their in- \ntellectual power.* The art consists mainly in setting \nthe subject so plainly and distinctly before the people, \nthat every one shall think that he can see it himself. \nBut it requires much intellectual discipline to enable \na public speaker to do this. \n\nIt deserves also to be remarked, that James Brainerd \nTaylor did not rely for evidence of a call to the minis- \n\n* An old soldier of the revolation told me, that in some se- \nvere eneoonter daring the war, his commanding officer, per- \neeiving that his men, though fighting bravely, were overshoot- \ning the enemy, in his peculiar slang cried out, ** thin them, \nboys ! akin them !\" and at the very first fire after this com- \nmand, the advancing column of British grenadiers wavered \nand reeled, and was very soon entirely broken. Lei the soldier \nof the cross imitate the eicample— let himfre low \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOH. 35 \n\ntry on the impulses of his own mind, or some unde- \nfinable feelings, but looked carefully, at the leadings of \nProvidence, at the wants of the world, and at the state \nof his own heart. He consulted his friends, and prayed \nover the subject. In a word, he adopted every mea- \nsure to enable him to form a wise determination ; and \nas the result of the whole, went forward under a firm \nconviction of duty. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. \n\nPirst two years in Academy. \n\nOn the 13th of January, 1820, Mr. Taylor arrived at \nLawrenceville, and began a course of study prepara- \ntory to his entering college. A yoiing man in this situ- \nation is exposed to (emptatioiid which require much \nvigilance and care ; otherwise his religious interests \nwill sufier ; and while he is growing in knowledge, he \nwill be declining in piety. \n\nA new, dry, and difficult study at once occupies \nand harasses the mind. If there is an ardent thirst for \nknowledge, and any waking up of ambition and rival- \nry, the attention is so engrossed that little opportunity \nis found for prayer and that devotional reading of the \nScriptures which is indispensable to one's growth in \nholiness. And if religious exercises afibrd high enjoy- \nment, there is great danger lest the young student \nshould go from them to his daily studies with reluc- \n\n\n\n36 MEMOIR OP \n\ntanee, and in process of time with feelings of disgust. \nIt requires, then, much firmness of religious principle, \nand great self-watchfulness, to go through this early \npart of preparation witli no diminution either of the \npiety of the student or his desire of intellectual im* \nprovement. \n\nBesides, a promiscuous school of twenty or thirty \nboys, lodging in the same or neighboring buildings, \nhas a spirit generally unfavorable to religious improve- \nment. Their petty jealousies, their occasional dissa- \ntisfactions, the general levity^ of boys, and a thousand \nthings of this kind, operate injuriously. And it hap- \npens, sometimes at least, that a young man enters col- \nlege with less of the spirit which becomes a minister \nof Christ, than he carried with him to the grammar \nschool. \n\nIf, then, an example can be shown of one who went \nthrough these dangers without injury ; and if it can ba \nshown by what means he grew in grace, while others \nm similar circumstances often decline, this part ol \nJames B. Taylor's memoir may be useful to numbers, \nin whose high-toned and fervent piety the church and \nthe world have a deep interest. \n\nHis first letter from Lawrenceville is addressed to \n\nhis friend C H , who was then preparing \n\nfor college, at Bloomfield, N. J. \n\n\" I left New-York on Tuesday, and lodged in New- \nBrunswick. On the next day, at six P. M. I set out \nfor Lawrenceville. After we had proceeded about \neight miles, the horses suddenly started ojQT, and before \nwe had discovered that the driver was left behind, \n\n\n\nJAMES BRMNCaO TAYLOR. 37 \n\nrtiey were on the run. There were four passengers in \nthe stage besides myself, who appeared to be mucli \nagitated ; nor did I wonder at it, for they were very \nirreligious persons, and there appeared to be no way \nof escape. I did not know what the issue would be, \n^ut of this I was certain, that the Judge of all the \nearth would do right, and my mind was in a great de- \ngree composed. The suddenness of the afiair caused \na little anxiety at first. But I thought of the distin- \nguishing mercy of my heavenly Father, who had been \npleased to call me to trust in him ; and I felt that it \nwas a time to set a value on the religion of Jesus, and \nthe hope which it imparts. O that I might value it \nmore ! The horses ran about two miles at full speed, \nand then turned into the yard where they are accus- \ntomed to stop, without any injury to the passengers or \nstage. I consider the escape as entirely providential, \nand feel that I am called on ' to praise the Lord for \nhis goodness,' and say, ' hitherto hath he helped me.' \nMy situation is pleasant. Religious privilege^ are bet- \nter than I expected. We have family worship morn- \ning and evening, preaching every Sabbath, and prayer- \nmeetings on Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday. \n\n\" As yet I have made very little progress in my \nLatin. I find it pretty dry, and rather trying^ for I go \non more slowly than I expected. This has troubled \nme somewhat ; but as it is the way to usefulness^ I \nhope I shall not yield to such feelings. I think that \nwe may be as happy now, as at any futoipe period of \nlife, if we only use our present privileges with a rign \nspirit. Having been here but a short time, I have not \nyet adopted any particular plan for disposing of my \ntime. I design before long to di-aw up such an one for \n\n4 S.I^TvsVk. \n\n\n\n38 MEMOIR OF \n\nmy guidance. T ae remarks of the great moralisti John- \nsoD, on this subject I think are good. ^ I believe, says \nhe, it is best to throw life into a method, that every \nhour may bring its employment, and every employ- \nment have its hour. If every thing be kept in a cer- \ntain place, when any thing is worn out or consumed, \nthe vacuity which it leaves will show what is want- \ning : so if every part of time has its appropriate duty, \nthe hour will call into remembrance its engagement.' \nShould you have drawn up any scheme for the dispo* \nsal of your time, I should like, if you have no objec- \ntion, to see it, as it may be useful to me. \n\n\" During the course of our studies, may we havt \nthe smiles of our heavenly Father ! The responsibi- \nlities resting on us are of no ordinary kind ; let us, \ntherefore, ' be up and doing.' As we advance in life, \nI hope that we shall grow in grace, and in the know- \nledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ ; counting \nit more than our meat and drink to do the will of him \nwho, of his mercy, hath called us into his service. It \nseems more and more necessary that we should be ex- \nemplary in our conduct, that we should be ' wise as \nsorpents, and harmless as doves.' That this may be \nthe case ; that we may be found faithful soldiers of the \ncross ; the ' sons of God without rebuke,' and be final- \nly received to mansions in the skies, is the prayer of \nyour sincere friend, J. B. T.\" \n\nTo two of his aunts, living in Tolland, (Conn.) he \naddressed a letter, dated January 23, 1820, in which \noccur the following passages : \n\n\n\nSt \n\n\n\nThe school which I attend consists of twenty-five \n\n\n\nJAME3 BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 39 \n\nscholars, of whom five, including myself, are prepar- \ning for the ministry : the rest are wild, giddy-headed \nboys. I am pleasantly situated in an agreeable family, \nand have two room-mates, of whom one* is a pious, \nhumble Christian, and I think as suitable a companion \nfor me as could be found. He is about three weeks \nahead of me in pursuit of the same object. In the \nsummer season this will be a beautiful spot, having \nmany pleasant walks and much line scenery. Yester- \nday morning, early, I walked into the fields, and found \na refreshing time for my soul. A view of the works \nof creation, and the echoes of various pleasant sounds, \nbroke on the ear and warmed my heart. As I loolted \non the surrounding objects, I felt that ^ my Father \nmade them all.' How delightful is it to be ' calm and \nserene;' how sweet to repose with confidence ou a \ncovenant God, and to cast all our care on him, who \ncareth for us ! The soul can then look down on the \nworld with a holy indifference, knowing that it is not \nthe believer's home. \n\n\" ' The older I grow, the more I feel the necessity \nof living nearer to the Lord.' Do you not find it so \nwith yourselves ? O for the power of quickening grace \nto animate us in our Christian life ! \n\n'Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly dove, \nWith all thy quiek'ning powers i \nKindle a flame of sacred love \nIn these cold hearts of ours.* \n\n'^ Having embarked in the cause of Christ, I ho(m \nthat my life may be one continued act of devotedneBS \n\n* Rev. Mr. Golick, tmee miisionaij to the Sandwifih Itloada. \n\n\n\n40 MEMOIB OF \n\nto him. Ha emg put my hand to the plough, I trust that \nI shall never 16ok back : and I depend on him who \nraises up, qualifies, and thrusts laborers into his vine- \nyard, for grace to strengthen me. In looking forward, \nI see that years will pass before I appear in public as \nan ambassador for Christ. But this does not discou- \nrage me. I am sometimes anxious, lest, while occu- \npied with my ctudies, I should lose my enjoyment of \nreligion. Do you tell me *\" draw nigh to the Lord, and \nhe will draw nigh to you V O for a closer walk with \nGod ; a continual hungering and thirsting for the wa- \nter of life I Since my mind has been made up to de- \nvote myself to the service of Christ in the ministry, I \nfeel more deeply my need of an interest in the prayers \nof my brethren and sisters in the Lord. I hope you \nwill not think that I am placing dependence on man. \nThe prayer of the righteous, you know, availelh mucft. \nAs then you are acquainted with my situation, I earn- \nestly beg to be remembered in your prayers. Make \nmention of me in all your supplications. Entreat our \nheavenly Father that I may be a pattern of piety ; that \nI may manifest the reality and excellency of the reli- \ngion which I profess, by walking worthy of my high \ncalling in Christ Jesus ; and that I may never bring \nreproach on that cause which I have espoused. \n\n'^ The Loid being near and around me, and the Ho- \nly Spirit abiding in my heart, unworthy as I am, during \nthe part of my life devoted to preparatory studies, may \nI .-jrow in grace, and in the knowledge of my Savior. \nIt is my earnest desire that I may be prepared for my \nwork, and in due time become a faithful minister of \nthe New Testament.\" \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAINERD TAYLOR. 41 \n\nIn letters to his parents, written shortly after com- \nmencing his studies, he further exhibits the state of his \nmind in regard to the great work before tdm, \n\n\" Fehrtuiry 4, 1830. \n\" My present situation is that which I have for many \nmonths been wishing to occupy. The Lord, I trust, \nhas inclined my heart to engage in this work, and by \na kind providence has placed me here, that I may pre- \npare to preach his Gospel. In looking around for my \nformer companions, I find that some are dead, others \nare living without any concern for tbeir souls, while a \nprecious few have fled to the ark of safety, and have \nfound the Lord Jesus. O, what occasion for thankful- \nness have I ! My dear parents, help me to praise the \nGod of my salvation : for once your son was ' dead in \ntrespasses and sins,' a despiser of that which is good, \nand a lover of evil. Bless the Lord for the hope which \nwe have through the ^peace-speaking blood of the \ndear Redeemer.' \n\n* He moves in a mysterious way, \n' His wonders to perform.* \n\nI, who am so unworthy, am now on the way, under \nhis direction, as I believe ; and should life and health \nbe spared, I trust the time will come when I shall pub- \nlicly declare the riches of his sovereign grace to my \nfellow-sinners. It is delightful to think of being made \nthe instrument of bringing even one of the lost sheep \nof Christ into his fold. How sweet, in a dying hour, \nto know that one has done some good to the souls of his \nfellow-men. To be engaged in the service of him who \ncame to seek and save the lost, is honorable ; for he i^ \n'King of kings and Lord of lords.' May m^ «ovl^^ \n\n4* \n\n\n\n42 \"'\"**^ MEMOIR OP \n\nways delight in this service, and my lot be cast with \nthe followers of Jesus. Let it be our continual desire \nto live near to him, who gave himself for us, that we \nmight not perish, but have everlasting life. \n\n*^ I greatly admire the character of a minister of the \ngospel, as drawn by Cowper : \n\n* Simple, grave, sincere ; \n\n' In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, \n'And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste \n\n* And natural in gesture ; much impressed \n\n' Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, \n'And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds \n\n* May feel it too : affectionate in look, \n\n' And tender in address, as well. becomes \n\n* A messenger of grace to guilty men.' \" \n\nIn a letter to Mr. H., written about a month after he \nbegan his course of study, after expressing a number \nof sentiments similar to those contained in the forego* \ning extracts, he gives a brief account of the manner in \nwhich he employed his time. This account is closed \nwith the following sentence : \" The last thing before \nretiring, every night, my companion and I commit to \nmemory a portion of Scripture. What may not this \namount to in eight years?\" \n\nThis little quotation is introduced chietiy for the pur- \npose of earnestly recommending such a practice to the \nimitation of all theological students. During the long \ncourse of preparation for the ministry, while every \nterm brings with it some new and difficult study, with \nwhich the mind is much occupied, and often much per- \nplexed, the Bible is too frequently treated with com- \nparative neglect. And not unfrequently young preach- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOH. 43 \n\ners manifest more intimate acquamtance with critical \nrules, and the arguments of polemics, than with the \nHoly Scriptures. But nothing can compensate the \npreacher for the want of a thorough knowledge of the \nBible. It ought to be treasured up in the memory, and \nmade the subject of daily meditation and prayer. Now, \nif a young man will, when he enters his preparatory \ncourse, adopt James B. Taylor's rule, and every night, \nbefore retiring to rest, commit to memory a short por- \ntion of *the Bible, selecting those parts which may \nmake suitable subjects for meditation and devotional \nexercise the next day, he may, by the time he enters \nthe ministry, have half the Bible by heatt. And he \nmay be so familiar with its contents, as to be able, \nwhen performing missionary services, to prepare ser- \nmons which shall be full of pertinent scriptural illus- \ntration and proof, without the help of a concordance. \nThe facilities which such preparation as this would \nafiford are invaluable. But in addition to this, if the \ntruth is the only instrument of sanctification, what bet- \nter means for growth in grace can be adopted, than this \ndaily increase of scriptural knowledge ? Let students \nof theology read the Bihle — let them sttUly the Bible \n—let them pray over the Bible,* \n\n*Naie by a friend.— Mr. Tay1or*s familiarity with the con- \nteDts of the Bible was observable by all with whom he asso \neiated. It was an interesting trait in bis habits of intercourse \nwith friends, that, when the conversation seemed at a stand, ho \nwould take out his little pocket Bible, saying, ** I gtteas I can \nfind something here to amuse us ;\" and then would give a fa- \nmiliar exposition of some passage, and connect with the illus- \ntration some anecdote ; at the same time repeating, and turn- \ning to parallel passages; so that no one could listen to him \nwithoat being deeply interested. So pecoUarly happy was he \n\n\n\n44 MEMOIR or \n\nWe have now seen with what views and feelings \nJames B. Taylor began his preparations for the minis- \ntry. Let us next see how he preserved the spirit with \nwhich he set out ; and what measures he adopted to pre- \npare for the office which he so ardently desired. \n\nBefore he had been one month at Lawrenceville, he \nestablished, and with his pious fellow-students con- \nducted a weekly prayer-meeting, about three miles from \nthe village. It was among a people, the most of whom \nseldom or never attended church. But yet, woft by the \nkind attentions of these young men, they came together \nweekly, in considerable numbers, to hear hymns sung^ \nlisten to instruction, and join in prayer to the Father \nof all. After giving to a friend an account of this place, \nand of the spiritual condition of the people, Mr. Taylor \nadds, in a tone of peculiar earnestness, \" There I hope \nTO BE USEFUL' \" This is the true spirit of the pulpit. \nA man who enters it with any other view, had better \nbe any where else in the wide world. \n\nThere is need, therefore, that the candidate for the \nministry, as well as the preacher of the Gospel, should \nwatch the movements of his heart ; and every hour \nthat he should pray, '^ Hold thou me up, and I shall \nbe safe.\" \n\nThis prayer-meeting, which had been established on \n\nin theie familiar illuftrations, that it wai not an nnfreqnent \nthing to see those aronnd him smile with delight, and at the \nnext moment weep with deep emotion. There are many* who \nwere often in his society, who will recognize the truth of this \nremark in their own experience. He would often speak of his \nBible, as \"the dear Utile bookJ** I was present at his examina- \ntion, and never heard any man quote the Sacred Scriptures \nwith such fluency, for confirmation of his doctrinal views, «• \nthe queitions were luccessiTely proposed to hun. \n\n\n\nJAMES BEAXMERO TAYLOR. 46 \n\nFriday eveDing, was changed to Sabbath afternoon ; \nand was regularly attended by Mr. Taylor. The re- \nligious exercises thus held, soon produced a desire for \nfurther information ; and a Bible class was formed, \nwhich he was requested to superintend. A short time \nafterwards, the young ladies of Lawrenceville volun- \ntarily associated in a similar class, to meet before \nchurch time on Sabbath morning, and desired him to \nhear their recitations. To each of these requests he \nassented. And thus his Sabbaths were fully occupied \nin labors to do and to obtain good. At 10 o'clock he \nmet the Bible class in Lawrenceville; at 11 he went \nto church ; and after dinner walked three miles to hear \nhis Bible class in the country, after which he attend- \ned the prayer-meeting, where he read a sermon, fre- \nquently addressed the people, sung thrice, ofiered two \nprayers, and sometimes held conversations on the sub- \nject of religion. This showed great earnestness of \ndesire to be doing something for the cause of Christ \nand the good of men. His letters give some interest- \ning accounts of the efifects of this prayer-meeting. To \none of his sisters he writes thus : \n\n** Lawrenceville, June 19, 1820. \n\n\" ' To do good and communicate forget not,' is a \nmaxim which we should keep in continual remem- \nbrance. The more we conform our lives to it, the \ngreater will be our resemblance to our blessed Savior, \nas he lived among men. To do good, we must seek \nopportunities ; and then opportunities will frequently \nfind U3. Since reading Cotton Mather's ^ Essays to \ndo Good,' I feel that I have been exceedingly defi- \ncient. In looking back to the time when I first mad^ \n\n\n\n46 MBMOUl Off \n\na public profession of religion— -'(you know that thongh \ndistant from each other, and unapprised of our respec- \ntive intentions, we both made the same solemn pro- \nfession on the same day) — on looking back, I am con- \nstrained to say, O what a barren fig-tree I haye been I \nmy leanness ! my leanness ! But blessed be the LfOrd| \nI have a desire to do good now. \n\n'^ No doubt you wish to hear something of my prayer ' \nmeeting. On Sabbath afternoon, at four, I meet about \none hundred people, assembled in two rooms, most of \nwhom are ignorant of God. I stand in the door be- \ntween, and generally read to them a sermon ; after \nwhich I sometimes speak a few words of exhortation. \nAs yet I have seen no effect, except that they have \nbecome more attentive ; and instead of profaning the \nSabbath by laboring in the fields, &c. they are seen \nat the meeting. I trust that good seed is sowing, and \nthat it will spring up in due time. Pray that it may ; \nand engage your Christian sisters to pray for me. The \nLord has done great things for us, whereof we are \nglad. Then for his distinguishing mercy, let us distin- \nguish ourselves by our piety, our love to God and men.\" \n\nTo C H . \n\n** LaiorenceviUe, July 12, 1890. \n\n\" That millions of souls are perishing, is a truth \nthat ought to have a place in all our thoughts. And \nwe may profitably inquire, what can we do to meliorate \ntheir condition 1 This ruin is not confined to heathen \nlands — it is at our doors and our fire-sides. Num- \nbers near ns are dying for want of the bread of life. \nTo these last, sitoated as we are, our attention is now \n\n\n\nJAMES BaAINERD TaITLOK. 47 \n\ncalled. What Providence may do for the fonner, in \nthe course of time, by oiir instrumentality, we know \nnot. The Head of the church, who qualifies his ser- \nvants to do his work, disposes of them as ' seemeth \nhim good.' But what are we doing for those that are \nnear to ns ? My brother, I presume that you are faith- \nful — I hope you are. For my part, I have to confess \nwith shame my many omissions. My failings stare \nme in the face. * A beam is in my own eye? \n\n\" But now I will inform you what I have been en- \ndeavoring to do. The opportunity was afforded to \nme of attempting something, by a recess of three days \nin our school. On Sunday, the 2d instant, I went as \nusual to attend my prayer-meeting, and found the \nbouse filled to overflowing. At the close of the meet- \ning, according to my previous plan, I told the people \nthat I intended to spend two days in visiting, from \nhouse to house, as man)& of them as I could. Accord- \ningly I commenced on Sunday evening my new em- \nployment. At the first house where I called, I found \na young person greatly distressed on account of sin. \nThis case of awakening had occurred at our prayer- \nmeeting. There was very great distress. I endea- \nvored to offer such instruction as suited the case ; and \nI have strong hope that there will soon be joy and \npeace in believing. I say no more of this case, but \nonly ask you to pray, — At the next house where I \nstopped, I found no appearance of religion. You can \nform a pretty good idea of what I said in such cases. \n\n\" On Monday I made ten visits. In these I found \nfour Christians and some persons well disposed to- \nwards religion, but the great majority caring only for \nthe perishing things of this world. At the house where \n\n\n\n48 MEMom Of \n\nI tarried that night, I found a young lady, in ciieum- \nstances similar to those of the person first mentionei^ \nbowed down under a sense of sin, and earnestly desi- \nring the one thing needful. This greatly encouraged \nme ; for I do believe that she is seeking the way of \ntruth, ' the good old way.' Here also I met with one \nwho appeared to be a Christian indeed. O how plea- \nsant ! It is like a well of water in a thirsty land. \n\n\" On Tuesday I called at ten houses. At most of \nthem I presented one or more Tracts, such as I thought \nmost likely to be useful. This was the fourth of July. \nIn the evening I had many reflections on the manner \nin which I had spent the day, so totally different from \nthat in which I had heretofore spent that anniversary. \nO how much greater cause of triumph, to be instru- \nmental in delivering one soul from the power of sin \nand Satan, than to be the conqueror of nations ! The \ncontrast will be fully seen only above, \n\n\" On the following day I attended the installment \nof the Rev. G. S. W , at Princeton, and a so- \nlemn time it was. O C , the awful responsibili- \nties of the office to which we are looking forward ! It \nis connected directly with the solemnities of the \njudgment-day. Should the Lord see fit to put us into \nthat station, the souls of those to whom we preach \nwill be profited or injured by us. But the duties of \nthe pulpit are not all — that of visiting, we know, is \nexpected. When I anticipate the time of my being a \npreacher, my mind dwells on this as a delightful task. \n\n\" By visiting, the pastor knows all the wants of his \n(lock, and performs indeed the kindest part of thf \nshepherd's office. Since I wrote to you last, the younf \nladies of Lawrenceville have formed a Biblu clasi \n\n\n\nJAMES BftA12«£&D..TAlrl.0R. 49 \n\nand solicited me to hear tlieir recitations. I vths glad \nto comply with their request. To render t bis measure \nbeneficial, I have determined to make it a kind of pravr \ner-meeting. The recitation is always opened with \nprayer, and closed with singing. Thus, you see, my \nduties increase; and I hope that it will be so as long \nas I live. May I have that wisdom from above which \nis profitable to direct; may the word of truth dwell in \nme richly in all wisdom ! This increase of duties con- \nvinces me that the grace afforded for yesterday will \nnot supply ray wants to-day. I trust that I have not \nbeen called to this place for nothing. That I may be \nuseful, is my desire. If my heart does not deceive \nme, I long to spend and be spent for Christ.\" \n\nThese extracts will serve to show how this devoted \nyoung Christian endeavored, while pursuing his stu- \ndies, to strengthen the desire of being useful. In the \nsequel we shall see more of his labors, and of their \nresults both in regard to himself and to others. \n\nWhile thus engaged in LawrenceviDe, he felt the \ndeepest solicitude respecting the spiritual interests of \nhis near relations. He had natural aflection in unu- \nsual strength, and it mingled in all its power with his \nreligious feelings. Every letter to his parents, bro- \nthers and sisters, breathes the most earnest desires \nthat those who were Christians might advance in holi- \nness, and that the others might feel all the power of \ndivine truth, and be brought to a saving knowledge of \nJesus Christ. \n\nTo his Parents. \n\n\" The other evening, as I was reflecting on the pas- \nsage of Scripture contained in 2 Cor. 5 : 10, * For we \n\n5 J.lV.T«:iV»t. \n\n\n\n60 KfiMQW or \n\nmust all appear before the jadgment-teat of Chnsf| \nthat every one may receive the things done in the bo- \ndy, according to that he hath done, whether it be good \nor bad j' I thought on the sitaation of my fellow-men \nwho reject the offers of mercy ! Alas ! where will \nthe sinner appear in the great day of the Lord, when \nthe elements shall melt with fervent heat, and the \nearth shall be burned up ? In thinking of our relatives, \nI could call to mind but few who had devoted them- \nselves to Christ. And, when my thoughts turned to \nour own family, they dwelt on some who had arrived \nat years of discretion, but who had not given them- \nselves to the Lord. Oh ! shall they — can they perish ? \nMay God interpose for them, that not one, at the last, \nmay be * found a cast-away !* \" \n\nUnder a sense of duty to his nearest kindred, James \nB. Taylor had a very delicate task to perform. At \nthat time, the only regular worship in his father's \nfamily was reading prayers on the Sabbath. The ne- \ncessity of a change of heart, it appears, was not duly \nregarded by his father ; and young Taylor was deeply \ndistressed under the apprehension that some, whom he \nmost loved in the world, were stopping short of that \nreligion which the Gospel required. He often resolved \nthat he would speak to his venerated father on this \nsubject; but filial fear and youthful dilEdence pre- \nvented. At length he resolved that he would write. \nBut a direct address might appear as though the son \nwere taking the place of the parent. Accordingly he \ndetermined to select as a subject, '^ The idea of a well \nregulated family.\" On this he wrote, in the form of \nletters to his parents, three essays ; in which he con* \n\n\n\nIAMB8 BftAUiSRO TAYLOR. 51 \n\nsidered all the usual topics of order, industry , econo- \nmy, &c. ; but with these he gave a very correct view \nof the religious obligations of heads of families. Af- \nter going over the whole subject, he put the question \nto his parents, whether their views coincided with his \non tbose important points, and on the obligations of \nparents. He then, in turn, addressed his sisters on \nthe subject of vital, experimental religion, with great \nearnestness ; rejoicing on account of those members \nof the family who gave evidence of piety, and express- \ning the deepest solicitude in regard to the rest. These \nletters exhibit the writer in a most interesting point of \nview. Few Christians feel as they ought their obli- \ngations to the souls of their near kindred ; and many \nwho do in some degree appreciate them, are so injudi- \ncious in respect to time, manner, and spirit, as to do \nharm in many cases where they meant to do good. It \nwas not so in this instance. James B. Taylor^s labors \nof love were blessed in an eminent degree to his kin- \ndred, as will more fully appear in the sequel. \n\nIt appears from his correspondence, that he was \nvery careful in keeping a diary, in which he noted \ndown his religious exercises, his joys and sorrows, his \nperformances of duty, and his sins. But there only \nremain parts of his journal from the years 1823 to \n1827 ; the rest have been destroyed. His confidential \nletters which have been preserved, show great vigi- \nlance of self-inspection, much humility under a sense \nof defective holiness, and strong desires to make \ngreater advances in the knowledge of Christ ; as will \nappear from the following extracts of letters to an emi* \nnent Christian, with whom he corresponded in terms \nof the greatest intimacy. \n\n\n\nfS2 MEMOIR t)F \n\n'<Jlftty9, 1580. \n\n'^ Alas ! how distressing to the soul is a sense of \nthe departure of the Comforter ! Let me call on yon \nto unite with me in praising the Lord that the dark- \nness has, in some degree, gone by. The billows have \nrolled over me ; but thanks to our blessed Lord that \nhis mercy was not clean gone for ever, * Bless the \nLord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his \nholy name,' for the Sun of righteousness has risen \nupon me.\" \n\n\" Jttiyll, 1820. \n\n\" Do you ask, * how is it with you V Oh , I am \n\nthe same inconstant, unsteady one you have always \nseen me to be; the same unfruitful vine, on which \nbarrenness seems to be written. O sin, thou art the \nenemy of my soul ! It is for this my heart is pained. \nIt is the cause of all our trouble in this world ; and \nwhile it digs graves for our bodies, it kindles the fires \nof hell for the souls of those who love it. But I think \nthat I really hate sin and love holiness. Yet I must \nsay that I am not satisfied with any of my perform- \nances, because so much sin is mixed with them. No^ \nthing short of perfect holiness can ever satisfy the \nsoul.\" \n\n« Nwembcr 18, 1820. \n\n* I feel myself, as heretofore, unworthy of the re- \ngard of my Christian friends ; and at times I am as- \ntonished that any should love such a one as I am. \nSurely if they could see me as I sometimes see my- \nself, they would wonder too. Alas ! in all things I \ncome short, and in many I ofiend. Yet I bless the \n\n\n\niAMEM BRAIHERD TAYLOR. G8 \n\nLord for what he has done for me, and I rely on hit \ngrace to make me more like himself. My soul daily \npants for more holiness, more deYotedness to the cause \nof my Redeemer ; and through him I do hope to he \nmade useful.\" \n\nTo another friend, a candidate for the ministry, he \nsays : \n\n\" Fdtruary 10, 1890. \n\n\" I wish that I could give you some good account \nof myself. But I am too little engaged in my Master's \nservice. Spiritual pride, that bane of the human soul, \nlurks within me, and is ever ready to destroy my \npeace. Many and strong are my temptations to sin. \nSometimes I stand strong; and then I am brought \nlow. But this I can say, that with divine help 1 will \nserve the Lord. I am determined to carry on the war- \nfare until every enemy is subdued.\" \n\nIt would seem, from the style of his letters about \nthis period, that his reading for spiritual improvement \nwas much in the old writers of the seventeenth cen- \ntury, those noble n^n, who, with some quaintness of \nmanner, showed a most intimate acquaintance with \nthe Bible, a profound knowledge of the most secret \nworkings of the human heart, and a fervor of piety \nrarely equalled in the world. Writing to a friend, \nwho had been walking in 4&rkness, he addressed him \nin language certainly derived from these sources, as \nthe following sentences will show. \" The greater the \nconquest, the brighter the crown. Stars shine bright- \nest in the darkest night— torches are better for beat- \ning. Grapes come not to the proof till they come to \n\n5* \n\n\n\n54 MEMOIR or \n\nthe press. Spices smell best when bruised. Young \ntrees root the faster for shaking : gold looks bnghtei \nfor scouring: juniper smells sweetest in the fire : the \npalm-tree proves the better for pressing. Camomile, \nthe more you tread it, the more you spread it. Such \nis the condition of God's dear children: they are then \nmost triumphant when most tempted ; most glorious \nwhen most afflicted ; most in favor with God wheb \nleast in man's and least in their own ; as their con- \nflicts so their conquests ; as their tribulations so their \ntriumphs : true salamanders, that live best in the fur- \nnace of persecution. So that heavy afflictions are the \nbest benefactors of heavenly affections ; and where \nafflictions hang heaviest, corruptions hang loosest; \nand grace that is hid in nature, as sweet water in \nrose leaves, is then most fragrant when the fire of af- \nfliction is put under to distil it out. Let us then be \nencouraged, in all our trials, to say, 'Hope thou in \nGod, for I shall yet praise him.' \" \n\nIn the year 1820, on a day appointed for humilia- \ntion, thanJESgiving, and prayer, he felt it to be his du- \nty to retire, and especially to note down topics for \nmeditation suitable to the season. \n\nReasons for thankfulness. \n\n1. That through the greater part of his life he had \nenjoyed good health, while many had sufiered much \npain and sickness. \n\n2. That the necessities of nature had been abun- \ndantly supplied, while many had pined in want. \n\n3. Civil, and especially reb'gious liberty. On this \nhe dwells with peculiar interest and force ; contrast- \ning our situation with that of most nations of the earths \n\n\n\n,, JAMES BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 55 \n\n• 4. But that which calls for double thanks^ is the \nfoundation and preservation of the church, the preach- \ning of the Gospel, and the enjoymentTof religion in \nits purity. \n\n. 5. A very special reason for thankfulness, is the \nnumber and the power of revivals of religion, as they \nhad occurred during the preceding year. \n\n6. Next to this he places pious relations and friends. \n\n7. Last, though not least, he places the dispensation \nof Providence, which had carried him to Lawrence- \nville to study for the ministry. Great honor had thus \nbeen conferred on him, and heavy responsibilities laid \non him. \n\nThis leads him to ask wbat he had rendered to the \nLord for all his mercies. And this question suggests \ncauses for humiliation. \n\n1. Neglect of opportunities of doing good. \n\n2. Backsliding, coldness, formality in religious \nservice. \n\n3. The imperfection of his eofample as a Christian. \n\n4. Negligence in self-examination and closet exer- \ncises generally. * \n\nHis prayer is for an increase of true religion, espe- \ncially in himself: that he may to faith add virtue ; to \nvirtue knowledge ; to knowledge temperance ; to tem- \nperance patience ; to patience godliness ; to godliness \nbrotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness charity. \n\nThus we see how James Brainerd Taylor spent the \nfirst year of his preparatory course, in respect to the \noultivation of his heart and the acquirement of a spirit \nsuited to the pulpit. \n\nOn the first day of January, 1821, he writes to one \nof his most valued Christian friends as follows : \n\n\n\n56 MLMOIR OP ,. \n\n*' I have found this a good day to my soul ; and«I \nknow that you will be gratified to hear some of the \nparticulars. This morning I returned home from a \nprayer-meeting, which I conducted last evening, about \nfour and a half miles from L. Of this meeting I \"wili \ntell you more by and by. On my arrival I retired to \niny room, and found it good to spend half an hour on \nmy knees ; because it was delightful to adore and praise \nthe greatness, goodness, mercy, and long suffering pa- \ntience of Grod ; it was good to have the privilege of \npouring out my heart before him. O how astonishing- \nly condescending is that great and fearful One, 'who \ninhabiteth eternity and the praises thereof,' that he \nshould deign to visit a worm, a creature of a day, \nwhose tabernacle is in the dust ! I felt myself ' less \nthan the least of all his mercies.' But the Lord does \ncondescend to regard those whose hearts are broken \non account of sin. He will give ear to their supplica- \ntions, while they pour out their hearts before him, and \ncast their burdens, however great, on him. They are \nprivileged to tell him all — ^guilt and fear, sins ana sor- \nrows, cares and crosses, wants ahd dangers, weak- \nnesses and temptations, darkness, ignorance, doubts, \nanxieties, whether for themsehes or others, the church \nor the world. I found it good, while I was ready to \nhide my face for shame, to confess my short-comings, \nmy negligence, my wanderings from the path of duty \nduring the past year. I found it good to cry for mercy \nto pardon, and for grace to help in time to come ; good \nto bless, and praise, and magnify the holy name of thO' \nLord, for his loving-kindness in giving me a goodly \nheritage, and casting my lot in pleasant places. I \nfound it good to lay my necessities before himy and to \n\n\n\nJAMES BRMNERD TAYLOR. 57 \n\noffer my body a living sacrifice to him, whose I am, \nby creation, preservation, redemption, and 1 hope by \nadoption. I found it good, and at this season peculiar- \nly solemn, to dedicate myselt, and all that I have and \nam, to his service and glory, and resolve, through \ngrace, to walk in the way of his commandments, and \ndo as well as suJQfer his whole will concerning me. I \nfound it good to plead that I might have faith, hope, \nand charity ; that I might be crucified unto the world, \nand the world be crucified unto me ; that I might be \ndelivered in time of trouble, and have grace to over- \ncome all my spiritual enemies ; that I might be hum- \nble, ever lying at the foot of the cross, and looking to \nthe Savior as my sacrifice, my advocate with the Fa- \nther, my prevailing intercessor, my salvation^ yea, ail \nmy salvation and desire for time and for eternity. \nYes, I found it good to call on the name of the Lord ; \nand afterwards I found it good to read the Scriptures, \nto meditate and engage in self-examination. \n\n\" Part of the afternoon I spent in visiting my ac- \nquaintances. I called to see a daughter of affliction, \none of whom I have spoken to you before. She has \nnot, for eighteen years, been free from lameness ; and \nfor 8ixteen has been entirely unable to walk. Yet she \nrejoices in the midst of all her sufi^erings, knowing \nthat the rod which is on her is not that of a tyrant, but \nof her heavenly Father, who afflicts, but not willing- \nly, the children of men. She triumphs in the prospect \nbefore her, and well she may, for there remaineth for \nher a rest beyond the skies. I found it good to be with \nthis sufifering Christian. \n\n'^ The evening has been spent in worshiping the \nLord, and in supplicating his blessing on a ruined \n\n\n\n£8 MEMOIR or \n\nworld. It was good to be there. And now I find if \ngood to address my friend in Christ. \n\n^^ But I must tell you more of the meeting which I \nattended last evening. And I have good news for you, \ntidings which have gladdened the hearts of some here, \nand have occasioned joy in heaven. In that neighbor^ \nhood about twenty souls have, as we hope, been bom \nagain. The meeting last night was a solemn one — the \nattention of the audience was fixed, while I addressed \nthem for more than half an hour. After singing and \nprayer, I addressed them again. The meeting then \nclosed, and they who had been lately brought into the \nkingdom stood around, while I conversed with them, \nfor the purpose of encouraging them to be steadfast, \nand to tight manfully**the battles of the great Captain \nof salvation. The converts are mostly young, one not \nmore than thirteen years old. The good work seems \nto be increasing. May it go on and prosper, and spread \nall around. \n\n\"Thus, , you see how I spent the last even- \ning of the old year, and the first day of the new. May \nevery succeeding day and year find us ripening for \nthat place where time and change are unknown — for \na seat at God's right hand, where are pleasures for \nevermore ! We shall be satisfied, when we awake in \nhis likeness. Pray for me, that I may be humble and \nfaithful.\" \n\n\" January 7, 1821. \n\n*' On asking myself this evening how shall I answer \nlife's great end, which is to glorify God ? the follow- \ning passage of Scripture came into my mind : Titus, \n2 : 12, ' Teaching us, that, denymg ungodliness and \n\n\n\n^AHES BRAUIEBD TAYLOIU S^ \n\nworldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and \ngodly, in this present world.' O how much is com* \nprised in this lesson ! It comprises all branches of our \nduty — what we owe to ourselves, to our fellow-meni \nand to our Creator. ' To deny ungodliness and world- \nly lust,' what is it but to abandon all those evil courses \nwhich wicked men are found in ? * To live soberly,' \nis in a right manner to govern all our appetites and \npassions. To live * righteously,' is to do to others as \nwe would that they should do to us. And to live \n* godly.' is to hold communion with the Father, and \nhis Son Jesus Christ. O 1 how fit and right is it that \nwe should thus live. It is a life such as this which is \nconnected with ' peace in beliejing,' and 'joy in the \nHoly Ghost.' \n\n\" You concluded your last letter with the exhorta- \ntion of the apostle, ' To do good and ^communicate, \nforget not.' I add, as a comment, \n\n' Blest is the man who spends his day \n\nIn aets of good to those around ; \nHis is the path %vhich surely ends \nWhere all shall be with glory crowu*d.* ** \n\nHis deep concern for the salvation of his kindred, \nand his endeavors to promote a more spiritual religion \nin his father's family, have already been mentioned. \nIn May of this year he adopted the expedient of ad* \ndressing a letter to his parents, brothers and sisters, \nwho were heads of families. The general subject ol \nthis letter is the responsibility of parents. It is a re- \nmarkable instance of delicate fidelity. The duties of \nthe relation are urged with great earnestness, and in a \n\n\n\n60 MEMOIR OF \n\nmanner well suited to make any one, who had not \ntaken a decided stand on the suhject of religion in bis \nfamily, deeply feel his deficiency. But in it there is \nnothing inconsistent with the highest filial reyerence, \nand the respect due from a younger to his elder \nbrothers. \n\nTo the letter is subjoined a long postscript, address- \ned to two young sisters who had not manifested any \nserious concern for the salvation of their souls. It con- \ntains a most solemn and affectionate wariling of their \ndanger, and entreaties that they would, in early life, \ndevote themselves with all the heart to the service of \ntheir Creator and Redeemer. To his mother he wrote \nas follows, April 15, 1821, the day he was twenty \nyears old : \n\n*'• The day of my birth I hope that I shall, at all \ntimes, have reason to bless and observe with thankftd \nremembrance. But I hope that I shall have more abun- \ndant reason to bless and triumph in the day of my \ndeath, because I trust it will introduce me into a new \nand glorious existence. \n\n\" O I my dear mother, how much have I cost you. \nIn my infancy, while hanging on your breast, I doubt \nnot that I witnessed maoy a tear and many an anx- \nious sigh, although entirely unconscious of your soli- \ncitude and of my helplessness. O what tenderness \nwas manifested to me ! what care to rear me up and \npreserve me from every ill ! How many sleepless nights \nhave you spent on my account ! Did the thought at \nthat period ever enter your mind, that you were train- \ning up a little immortal, destined to be a servant of \nthe Most High ? Did you look on me as one whom \n\n\n\nJAMES BHUNERD tAYLOR. 01 \n\nyou might afterwards bear, as a herald of the cross, \nbearing the unsearchable riches of Christ, preaching \na crucified Sarior to guilty and dying man 1 \n\n\" Instead of indulging such pleasing hopes, perhaps \nmy fond mother thought of the innumerable evils to \nwhich I might be exposed in the slippery paths of \nyouth ; or of the no less numerous dangers with which \nmanhood is surrounded. You might have contempIa< \nted me as a companion of those TiiJ|9 wander from the \nways of the Lord, and walk m the paths of the de« \nstroyer. And perhaps in your paaternal fears you sigh' \ned and said, Can it — ah I shall it ever be — that this \nchild will bring grief to his father, and sorrow to the \nmother who bore him ? Did you not pray that God \nwould undertake for me, and avert the storms to which \nthe young voyager of life would be exposed ? He has \nheard your prayers ; an answer has been sent ; but not \nbefore I had done much to blast your hopes and in- \ncrease your fears. O ! how kind, how gracious was \nthe unseen, but not unfelt hand, that turned me from \nmy evil ways, and ' sweetly forced me in.' Well may \nI sing songs of deliverance, and shout — * a miracle of \ngrace !' \" \n\nHe then adverts to a very dangerous attack of ty- \nphus fever, which he had m his twelfth year, when \nevery one expected that he would die ; and, to heighten \nhis feelings of filial gratitude, dwells on the great \nkindness of his mother, in watching by him and nurs- \ning him during his protracted illness. \n\nIt seems that his death appeared so certain, that \nsome kind friend prepared a shroud for him. On allud- \nmg tc this circamstance, he asks, with great solemni- \n\n5 4.1i.Tu^\\ot \n\n\n\n(12 MEUO» OF \n\nty, Mother, \"how were you exercised when taktof^ \nyour last look at me ? Alas ! had I been cut down as \na cumberer of the ground — my peace was not then \nmade with God — death would have consigned me to \nthe * blackness of darkness, and to everlasting despair. \nWho but God could have averted the stroke which \nwas leveled at my head 1 \n\n\" But your son, who was once on the verge of the \ngrave, yet lives ; and lives in the enjoyment of hea- \nven's blessing. He has been spared, and permitted to \nindulge the hope of being extensively useful in the \nchurch. At least, his desire is to spend his days in \nthe cause of that d^r Redeemer who gave his soul a \nsacrifice for sin, ^ that we might not perish, but have \neverlasting life.' To compensate you for your sighs \nand tears, your fearful apprehensions and anxieties, \nsee what God hath wrought. Out of our number it \nseems that he bath chosen me to be a minister of the \neverlasting Gospel. May I be prepared to labor in his \nvineyard ! \n\n** I expect to occupy my present place for two years \nafter the ensuing fall. I expect then to enter college, \nso advanced as to remain there only two years. After \nwhich I shall go to the theological seminary for three \nyears. As to my life after that, I can make no conjec- \nture. Only I can say, that I hope to devote my life to \ntne service of God, soul, body, and spirit. Yes, I had \nrather fall a sacrifice to my labors than be lukewarm \nand dead in his service. My whole self I would con- \nsecrate to him, in whatever sphere the Lord of the \nharvest may see fit to appoint me to labor ; whether at \nhome or abroad, on the land or on the sea. \n\n\" God has blessed us both, and been very kind to \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOB. 03 \n\nQs in times past — let us trust in him for time to come. \nThe Lord has blessed you, my mother, in permitting \nyou to see the prospect of my entering the ministry; \nand he has blessed you in your other children, my dear \nbrothers and sisters. May they, who hare professed \nthe religion of Christ, be faithful, and keep their gar* \nments unspotted from the world. And may the rest, \nwho are yet far off, be brought nigh, and be united \nwith us in the bonds of an everlasting covenant ; may \nthe Lord by his Spirit convince them of sin, of righte- \nousness, and of judgment, and make them heirs of the \ngrace of life, that parents and children may all unite \nin anthems of praise in the upper sanctuary.\" \n\nThe letter concludes with particular addresses to \nthe several members of the family, containing appro- \npriate and most earnest exhortations. \n\nTo C H \n\n\"jMty5, 1821. \n** II7 Brother, \n\n*' O that I could, with the humble confidence of a \nlittle child, raise my voice to heaven, and with the \nfaith of assurance cry, ^Abba, Father! my Father \n— my reconciled Father and portion, in and through \nJesus Christ. O that I could lift up my heart, hav- \ning the witness of the Spirit, and say to Jesus, my \nSavior and Redeemer from sin and death ; my advo- \ncate with the Father, and prevailing intercessor ; my \nprophet, priest, and king ; my salvation ; my all in all ! \nO that I could know the Holy Spirit to be my sancti- \nfier, guide and comforter !' But, to my shame, I do not \npossess that unshaken confidence which I want. I can \n\n\n\n6^ MEMOIR OF \n\nindeed say, that not this world, nor ten tnousand more, \ncould purchase the hope which I have. And if I know \nray own heart, I do think that the desire to have Qod \nas my Father, Jesus as my Savior, and the Holy Spirit \nas my Sanctifier, is predominant. But yet I feel that \nwhereas I ought to be a full grown man in Christ, I \nam only a babe. To think that I have been now five \nyears a professor of religion, and have made so little \nprogress, is indeed a cutting thought. Alas, I feel my- \nself to be far behind those who set out with me in the \ndivine life. \n\n' O for a breeze, a beavenly gale, \n* To waft me through this gloomy vale, \n' That I may join the joyful band \n' In Canaan's fair and happy land.* \n\n\" Since our last separation, my course has been va- \nried. The Lord has been good. I have had seasons of \nenjoyment. Blessed be our heavenly Father, that I \nshould at any season be permitted to sip of the good \ncup by the way. To many the water of life is dealt \nout more bountifully. My unfaithfulness and unbelief \nhinder the blessing. O how much reason have I to \nchide and upbraid myself for past offences. \n\n\" While we are preparing for the holy ministry, and \nlooking forward to it, our constant desire should be to \nbring maoy sons and daughters into the kingdom : also \nto build up the humble believer in his most holy faith. \nAnd what a delightful task will that be to us ! While \nwe are in the school of the prophets, may the Lord \nimpart to us a right knowledge of ourselves and of \nhim — may he endow us plentifully with heavenly gifts \n— convince us thoroughly of sin — ^give us true, un- \n\n\n\nJAMES BR At NERO TAYLOR. 65 \n\nfeigned repentance — strong faith in Jesus Christ — and \nthat zeal and love which characterize the humhle, \nmeek, lowly, devoted, self-denying, spiritual, heaven- \nly-mi uded child of God — and thus furnish us for every \ngood work. Whether we shall ever go into the vine- \nyard of our Lord, is known only to him. The harvest \ntruly is great, and the laborers are few. Should we \nenter the field, may we be found wise as serpents and \nharmless as doves — baptized with the Holy Ghost and \nwith fire. \n\n'^ But I think that our views should not be altogether \ndirected to the end of our preparatory course. There \nare many opportunities now of doing good. The call \nfrom many a lowly cottage is, ^ Come over and help \nU8 P And we ought to inquire for persons to whom \nwe may be useful. If indeed we feel as we ought, we \nhold ourselves to be very small and unworthy. But \nwe are looked upon by those around us as having al- \niready entered on a ministerial course, and we have a \nparticular character to sustain. Occupying such a situ- \nation, how necessary it is that we should be circum- \nspect, and walk worthy of our vocation. \n\n'* A few days since, I had some interesting intelli- \ngence from the east. The good work appears to be go- \nim^ on. Some, whom I left distressed, have obtained \na hope. The time is coming, when ' a nation shall be \nbom in a day.' We may see greater things than our \neyes have ever yet witnessed. O ! may the precious- \nness of immortal souls, and our responsibility to God, \nto ourselves, and to others, be written on our hearts, \nas with a pen of iron and the point of a diamond. And \nmay we be kept very humble, and very sensible of o\"' \n\n•ntire dependence ! Farewell.\" \n\n6* \n\n\n\n66 MEMOIR OP \n\nTo his sister M— \n\n\n\n\"Jli^, 1881. \n*^ Perhaps you may wish to know how I have em* \nployed myself during the past session. O that I could \ntell you I had heen faithful ! But alas ! in all things I \ncome short, and in many I offend. However, I have \nendeavored to do, at least, a little for my Redeemer, \nby visiting the people of this neighborhood, and eaor \nversing with them on the concerns of their souls. la \nseveral instances I have been encouraged. The pray- \ner-meetings are continued every other Sabbath. I have \nalso been engaged in several other places. I am about \nestablishing a Sunday school for colored people at the \nvillage where I hold my meetings. I hope that you \nare actively engaged in your sphere. Our working days \nwill soon be over, and the consideration ought to sink \ndeep into our hearts. Souls may be waiting for us to \nbe the means of their conversion. ' Up and be doing/ \nshould be our motto.*' \n\n\n\nTo \n\n\n\n\" October, 1821. \n**Knowi0g that you feel anxious about your friend, \nI give you early information of my safe arrival in L., \nand of the improvement of my health. I am nearly \nwell of my cold — but alas ! I am compelled to say that \nmy heart i« not warm on a subject on which I oaght \nto be all on fire. Pray for me. that the Sun of righte« \nonsnesA may arise with healing in his beams ; that my \ndoubts and feare may all be removed ; that my sorrow \nr med into joy. You know how painful it is \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINESD TAYLOR. 67 \n\nto be under a cloud. But, blessed be the Lord, I know \nthat I do want more religion, and that my chief desire \nis to be holy. Nothing can satisfy me but the eternal \nfountain of life and light. \n\n' Retnm, O holy Doye, retiim, \n' Sweet messenger of rest; \nI hnte the sins that made thee mouni, \n* And drove thee from my breast.' \n\n\"After I had written the preceding, (the other evenr \ning,) I laid aside my paper and took hold of Clarke \non the Promises^ when I met with the following has- \nsage: ^ The eternal God is thy refage, and underneath \nthee are the everlasting arms. He shall drive out the \nenemy before thee; and shall say, Destroy them? \nFrom this I derived some encouragement. I have since \nfound it good to wait on the Lord ; and feel strength- \nened to persevere. Pray for me, that I may holdfast^ \nand hold on to the end. \n\n^^ December 8. — I have reason to praise the Lord \nfor his goodness to fiiy soul since I wrote the forego- \ning. Last Monday night particularly was a season of \nenjoyment to me. I enjoyed a delightful ' time of re- \nfreshing from the presence of the Lord.' It was our \nmonthly prayer-meeting. I trust that I have not lost \n\nthe blessed Savior yet. The world and all its enjoy- \nments appeared, and do still appear diminutive and \ntransitory. I felt, and still feel determined, the Lc rd \nhelping tsu^ to live nearer to him—^O for grace o \n.(nrehbnmoie.\"' \n\n\n\n68 MBMOXB 0r \n\nToC \n\n\n\n** LaiortnceciilCt Dee, 1, 18SI. \n\n\"' Since I wrote last, I have made quite a tour through \nConnecticut. The occasion was this. While going to \nNew-York at the commencement of our vacation, on \nhoard the steam-hoat between New-Brunswick and the \ncity, I fell in with Major Ridge, an Indian chief, of \nthe Cherokee tribe. My becoming acquainted with \nhim seemed providential. I saw his credenticUs, which \nwere very satisfactory, from our missionaries — and \nfmding him a stranger in a strange land, without a \nguide, I offered to him my friendship. With this he \nseemed to l)c highly gratified. I conversed with him \nas much as I could about his country and its produc- \ntions ; about the missionaries, schools, i&c. among the \nCherokees. This rendered our trip very agreeable. I \nwas particularly pleased to have beside me, from the \nwilderness, one of those for whom so much exertion \nhad been made. \n\n\" On our arrival in New-York, I conducted Major \nRidge to my brother's, where the family immediately \nbecame interested in him. \n\n\" On Sunday he attended church and prayer-meet- \ning. In the evening I concluded to accompany him to \nCornwall, where he had a son at school. Accordingly \non Monday morning we set out for New-Haven, \nwhere we tarried for the night. On Tuesday we vent \nto Litchfield. The country is beautifully diversified \nwith bill and dale. I passed through the place wheia \nMr. Newton formerly resided, who went with the last \nmission family to the Osages. \n\n\" I found Litchfield a beautiful place, situated on a \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 6t^ \n\ncommanding eminence, from which one may look over a \nvery fine range of country. There I saw Mr. Nettleton, \n\n\" On Wednesday we arrived at Cornwall. It is a \nsmall village on a plain surrounded with mountains. \nBut to return to my companion. He manifested very \ngreat pleasure in meeting his son. Both parental and \nfilial afiection were strongly displayed. Tears stole \ngently down the cheeks of both father and son ; so that \nfor some time they were incapable of much conversa- \ntion. When they had become more composed, the fa- \nther, through his son, began, apparently with much \nfeeling, to express his gratitude for my unexpected at- \ntention. During the afternoon I had an interview \nwith the son. He is nearly of my size, about eighteen \nyears of age, possesses an intelligent mind, uses good \nlanguage, and exhibits refined manners. He has been \nnearly three years at Cornwall, and has made rapid \nprogress. He is regarded as a youth of first rate ta- \nlents. But he appeared quite a stranger to his own \nheart. \n\n\" In the evening I attended a conference meeting \nconducted by the young men, and heard some of the \nheathen youth speak and pray ! David Brown is par- \nticularly interesting. \n\n\"Next day I had an interview with Major Ridge \njust before I left him. Mr. Brown was my interpreter. \nAt the close, the Major gave me the assurance that he \nwould hereafter give his wJwle mind to the subject of \nreligion. His wife has become a member of l he church \nin the wilderness, and he is desirous of becoming a \nmember too. \n\n\" I left Cornwall on Thursday. Mr. Brown accom- \npanied me as far as the burying ground, to view the \n\n\n\n70 MEMOIB \n\nStone erected to the memory of Henry Obookiak. \nMany pleasing and many painful ideas are associated \nwith that place. It was there David Brown and I said \nfarewell, and parted. \n\n\" It will be glad tidings to you to hear that my bro- \nther F. is expecting to study for the ministry. I haye \nsome hope that he will be with me soon. Is not this \nthe Lord's doing ? May it prove to be so !\" \n\nThe following is from a letter to the Rer. Mr. H — , \nan aged clergyman, with whom he was in habits of \nfriendly intercourse, and in whose family he was inti- \nmately acquainted : \n\n^' Is it well with your youngest daughter ; I mean, is \nshe now rejoicing in that ' hope which maketh not \nashamed, because of the love of Christ shed abroad in \nthe heart, through the Holy Spirit given unto her?' \nSuch seemed to be her case when I had the pleasure \nof seeing her. And if it be really so, you are ready, \nno doubt, to bless the great Redeemer for his grace in \nthus visiting your house in the decline of life. May \nshe grow daily in grace, and in the knowledge of our \nLord and Savior Jesus Christ ! She has been the \nchild of many prayers : may she love to pray, not only \nfor herself, but also for others — may I not add, for me \ntoOj that the Lord would make me holy in heart and \nin life, to the praise of the glory of his grace ! \n\n\" But when I was with you, your eldest daughter \ncould not see that she had passed the line which se- \nparates Christians from the world. May I not hope \ntliat ere this she has submitted herself to Christ ? It \n80, how blessed the change ! a change which has not \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAmEBD TAYLOR. 71 \n\nonly imparted peace to her own soul, and gladness to \nher parents and christian friends, but joy to the an- \ngels in heaven. She has had to record one of the hap- \npiest events inUhe annals of her pilgrimage — it is an \nera in her existence, on which she will reflect with \npeculiar pleasure and gratitude, not only in time, but \nthrough eternity. O that I could know that it is thus \nwell with her. But if, indeed, she has made no pro- \ngress ; if she has not yet 'apprehended Christ Jesus' as \nher Savior, and found him the 'chief among ten thou- \nsand,' I would ask her, ivhy is it so 7 ' Is there no \nbalm in Gilead j' ' is there no physician there V Has \nnot the Father called you ? does not Jesus invite you \nby his life of toil, by his agony in the garden and on \nthe cross, by his death and burial, by his resurrection \nand glorious ascension ? And now, being exalted as a \nprince and a Savior, is not his kind and winning lan- \nguage addressed to you, ' Come unto me V All hea- \nven appears to be engaged to secure the salvation of \nreturning sinners. You have been alarmed by feeling \nthat you were in the city of destruction ; O stay not in \nail the plain, lest thou be consumed, but fly to the re- \nfuge provided for sinners by the sinner's Friend. Your \nbest interests call for it — the prayers, anxieties, and \ntears of your parents call for it. As you love your \nsoul ; as you value your everlasting all ; as you ever \nhope to meet God in peace, and dwell for ever in hea- \nven, do it. O! do it 1 — May the Lord have you all in \nhis holy keeping !\" \n\n\n\n72 MEMOIR or \n\nTo hi< Parents. \n\n«» L 1 December^ 1821. \n\n**BebvodPorouts, \n\n^^ When I call to mind that you have not heard from \nme since I left New-York, I feel that I have not mani- \nfested that love for you that I ought. But you will \nexcuse me, while I assure you that I find my affection \nfor you increasing instead of diminishing. You know, \nmy dear father and mother, that nearly two years \nhave elapsed since I arrived at this place to begin my \nstudies. How rapid has been their progress ! I feel \ndisposed to rejoice rather than to mourn that the time \nhas sped its flight. I look upon them as two years of \npreparation for that office which I anticipate with \npleasure. And the faster our years fly, the better, if \nGod be our Father, Jesus our Savior, and the Holy \nSpirit our Sanctifier ; for the sooner shall we be waft- \ned over life's tempestuous sea, and the sooner shall \nwe reach the wislied for haven. Glory to our heaven- \nly Benefactor, for devising the plan of salvation I Glo- \nry to our Redeemer, who accomplished the mighty \nwork ! And glory to the Holy Spirit, who applies it \nto our hearts and consciences ! Everlasting thanks to \nour God, if we have been made partakers of the grace \nof life ; if we are his sons and daughters ! Surely it \nhas been a work of his own on our hearts, and we \noriight to praise him. He is worthy of our highest \ntioinage and best services. Then let us spend the re- \nmaining days of our pilgrimage to his honor ; that 90, \nwhen we are done with earthly things, an abundant \nimtrance may be administered unto us into the ever- \nlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesua Christ. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 73 \n\n'^ What distinguishing mercy has heen displayed to \nour family ! But to me in particular — to me in paartu \ncular ; and you may well wonder at and admire that \ndivine grace which ' sweetly forced me in.' Once I \nwas a ehild of many anxieties, and the occasion of \nmany sorrows. I feel that in my childhood I often \ncaused you to suffer much pain on my account. But \nall was parental tenderness and affection on your part, \n\nforgive me the foHies of my youthful daya, my \nobstinacy, self-will, disobedience, and rebellion. I \nknow that you have forgiven me ; hut I cannot forgive \nmyself. No \\ my ingratitude to you, the kindest and \nbest of parents, is a reproach to me. May God for- \ngive me — yea, I trust he has forgiven me, wherein I \nhave been guilty in breaking this his command, ' Ho- \nnor thy father and thy mother.' \n\n\" Once my home was under your roof— once I sat \nat your table — once I enjoyed the society of your fa- \nmily circle— and once I could call to you by the en- \ndearing appellation of father and mother. But now I \nam far away. My home, my table, my society, arc \namong strangers. They, however, are ray friends, \nthis I am persuaded is of the Lord's kindness. And \nas he has been good to me in times past, I can trust \nhim in time to come. \n\n\" Did not the Lord, when he gave me to you, say, \n* Take this child and nurse him for me, and I will \ngive thee thy wages.' For all your goodness to me, \nmay heaven's best blessings rest upon you. And may \n\n1 be an honor to my father, and to the mother who \nbore me ! — ^may I glttrify my heavenly Father, and be \nmade a blessing to society ! O may I not live a cipher \n\n7 J. B. Taylor. \n\n\n\n74 MEMom or \n\nm this world, but be made ezteDsively useful. For this, \nlet me ask your continual, earnest, united pfrayers.\" \n\nThe above extracts from Mr. Taylor's letters show, \nit is thought, very distinctly an increase in his piety \nand in his religious enjoyments. He appears to be \ngradually raising higher his standard of ministerial \nholiness and usefulness, and making progress in real, \ndecided, heart-felt religion. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\n\n\nCompletion of his course in ike Academy. \n\nOn the 1st of January, 1822, we find, in a letter to a \nvalued and confidential Christian friend, a brief state- \nment of his religious views at that period* \n\n\" The last time I wrote, you recollect the state of \nmy mind. Since then, the Lord has been better than \nmy expectations. I have had some precious seasons. \n1 have known what it is to hold communion with my \nheavenly Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ, \nthrough the Eternal Spirit. My closet duties have af- \nforded my highest enjoyments ; not always, indeed^ \nequally great, but generally delightful. \n\n*^ During this year may I, ani* nray you, be more \nthan ever engaged in the Lord's service. I am desi- \nrous to spend and be spent for him^to live the life of \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TATLOK. 75 \n\nthe righteous. But we may not live to see its close. \nThis morning I wsis meditating on the words in Matt. \n26 : 18, My time is at hand; and I thought that if it \nshould be the Lord's will to take me to himself this \nyear, yea, even this day, I should rejoice at my de- \npartare. The grave seemed to lose its terrors — hea- \nven and its glories appeared to be in sight — my soul \nv/as joyful. O to live religion — to have heaven iu \nview, the love of God in the heart, the world, the flesh \nand the devil under one's feet ! Then, come life, \ncome death, a/Z, all will be well. \n\n\" O my friend, I am tired of living hy halves* God \nsays, * Son, give me thy heart.' I answer, O for an \nentire surrender — I long for complete deliverance from \nremaining corruption ; for sanctification in soul, body, \nand spirit ; for that perfect love which casteth out all \nfear — and until I attain this, I shall feel that I shall \nbe unfit to be a minister of Jesus Christ.\" \n\nIt deserves to be noticed, that our young friend was, \nin a remarkable degree, exempt from sectarian feelings. \nAmong other tokens of enlarged and liberal feeling, it \nmay be mentioned that he had correspondence with \nstudents of theology and private members of several \nreligious denominations, and that the interchange of \nfraternal affection and christian exhortation was cha- \nracterized by perfect confidence and entire freedom. \nThis is what we may expect, when professors of \nChristianity have the spirit of their religion. It is \ntruly a religion of love, which embraces all, of every \nname, who show themselves to be true disciples of \nJesus Christ. \n\nFrom a letter of Major Ridge, dated, ^^ Cherokee \n\n\n\n76 MEMOIR OF \n\nNation, Feb. 19, 1822,'' it appears that Mr. Taylor \nhad written him, and that his kindness and christian \nfaithfulness had deeply impressed his heart. \n\n\" Dear friend, (he says,) we were made acquainted \nby a kind Providence, and I hope I shall never forget \nall your kindness to me. When I think of New-Ycnd^ \nit seems near, and I feel almost as if there. When I \nwent there I was a stranger, and you were so kind as \nto be my guide and assistant to the place where my \nson was, for which I am under great obligations of \ngratitude. You not only rendered me all necessary \nassistance on the way, but when we arrived at Corn- \nwall, you was so kind as to converse with me on the \nsubject of religion. What you told me I ought to do, \nI am now fully determined to do. I think I can say \nnow that I do seek the Savior ; but I do not find him. \nI hope the Lord will hear my prayers, and enable me \nto find the right way. I thank you for, and rejoice to \nthink of what you told me. I also rejoice that the \nmissionaries here tell me the same ; and that there \nare some, even in this land, who care for my soul.* \n\nAnother extract of a letter addressed to Mr. Taylor, \nFeb. 25, 1822, by one to whom be had been useful in \nan excursion during vacation, will give the readei \nsome idea of the active zeal of this young Christian. \n\n^' On looking back on my life, and recalling past \nscenes, I remember with humility, with love and ado- \nration, the occurrences of the past year. 1 adore the \nriches of that grace which, I hope, plucked me as a \nbrand from everlasting burnings. To you, my friend, \nI feel peculiarly grateful ; and as long as I live, I shall \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAIMBRD TAYLOR. 77 \n\nremember your faithful admonitions and prayers. I \nhave reason every day to adore and praise that Provi- \ndence which directed you in my way, and made you \nan instrument of doing much good to my soul. When \nI first saw you I was where I had been for years. I \nknew that I was a sinner; that my situation was \nwretched ; and that remaining where I was, I must pe- \nrish. But y^t I made no exertions to escape. I was \nwaiting for the irresistible influences of the Spirit, \nwith the excuse that I could do nothing myself. You \nwere employed by an overruling hand to rouse me \nfrom this state of awful stupidity and sin. Your words \nwent like daggers to my guilty conscience, and \nwrought that conviction in my soul which I had \nnever experienced before. It is needless for me to tell \nyou what I then felt, as you were a witness to part of \nmy anxiety and distress. You also saw the change \nwhich took place in my feelings. O happy seasons of \ndelight — how I love to call them to remembrance ! \nThe Lord has not only been kind to me, but has ex- \ntended his mercy to my beloved companion; and \nwhile we deserved nothing but wrath, has made us, as \nwe hope children of his grace and heirs of everlast- \ning life.\" \n\nIt would be easy to give many similar passages \nirom other letters, showing that this young academi- \ncal student was made, to a surprising extent, useful in \nbringing sinners to a knowledge of their condition, and \nconducting them to Jesus Christ as their Savior. \n\nIt is apparent from the following letter to his friend \n\nH , that his mind was at the same time intent on \n\nhis own preparation for the ministry ; and that while \n\n7* \n\n\n\n78 MEMOIR OP \n\nhe wished to possess all the intellectual qualiAMtioike \nrequired, his first object was to make eminent attaii^ \n\nmeuts in holiness. \n\n» \n\n\" March 9, 18S2. \n\n\" You no doubt rejoice with me that our friend (X \nand my brother F. have given themselves up for the \nwork of the holy ministry. O, my brother, what a \ngracious Providence it is that calls so many young \nmen from mercantile business to labor in the vineyard \nof our Lord. More than all, I wonder that I should be \ncounted worthy to do any thing in the glorious work \nof salvation. How astonishing ! ^ How condescending \nand how kind !' How signal was my escape ! When \nevery thing indicated that my situation was fixed for \nlife, and that I should have to spend my days in buy- \nisag and selling, a kind Providence opened a way for \nme to enter upon my studies. You know what were \nmy difficulties. I cannot, with the certainty I wish, \nsay that I have been, and yet I dare not say that I \nhave not been called of heaven — no, I dare not But, \nwould I Mook back?' No, verily. I desire to be a \nminister of the Gospel above and before all earthly \nthings. My mind' is bent on it, with the most earnest \nwish to spend and be spent in the Lord's service. How \ncUe could I be happy ? \n\n\" The work of the holy ministry is, we hope and \ntrust, before us. No doubt you have dwelt, as I hare, \non the necessary work of preparation with fear and \nmuch trembling, yet with satisfaction and joy. But \nyet it can never be amiss for us to stir up each other's \nminds by way of remembrance. \n\n\" That a minister of the Gospel should be a con- \n\n\n\nJAMES ORAINERD TAYLOR. 79 \n\nverted man, is too plain, and dommonly believed, for \nme to insist on. He must be born from above — be ere- \ncted in Christ Jesus unto good works — have his name \nwritten in heaven. Thither, when going out and com- \ning in, at home and abroad, he should direct his afiec- \nlions and desires, his whole walk and conversation: \nthere should he lay up his treasures, and look to hea- \nven as his eternal home. Nothing can be more unbe- \ncoming in one who ministers in lioly things, than \nworldly-mindedness. May God, of his infinite mercy, \nmake rta peculiarly humble ; and fit us to bear the ves- \nsels of the Lord, by imparting to us much of Enoch's \nspirit \n\n^* A minister of Jesus Christ ought to be thoroughly \nfurnished for his work. It need not be splendid furni- \nture, to attract admiration ; but solid, substantial, and \nfit for use. We must seek it in the store-house of grace. \nThere is enough treasured up in Christ — may we re- \nceive from his fullness ! Let us make our Bibles our \ntext books. \n\n*' But the preacher must have a call from the great \nHead of the church, whose prerogative it is to raise \nup, qualify, and send forth laborers. Alas ! how mise- \nrable must that man be, who preaches when he is not \nsent. None of the truths which he utters — none of the \nwarnings which he gives, but reverberate, ^Phyn- \nctan, heal thyself J* O may you and I have our com- \nmissions from Christ, to go into the world and preach \nhis Grospel. May we receive an unction from the \nHoly One ; be set apart by the great High Priest of \nonr profession; be filled with the Holy Ghost, and \nwith the fire of divine love— love supreme towards \nGod| ardent towards our brethren, and universal \n\n\n\nBO MEMOIR OF \n\ntowards perishing sinners. May the Spirit of the \nLord rest on our hearts as a spirit of prayer, a spirit \nof conversation, a spirit of exhortation, a spirit of \npreaching. Then, setting up our banner in the name \nof the Lord, we shall destroy the works of the devil, \nand advance the interests of the Redeemer's kingdom. \n\n^^ A minister has great need to look well to all his \nmotives. Does he work for filthy lucre's sake ? then \nhe cannot prosper. Does he seek the honor that \ncometh from men, and not that which cometh from \nGod only ? then leanness and barrenness will rest on \nhis heart, life, preaching, and conversation. O may \nwe enter the work to win souls to Christ, and have, \nas our great motive, the honor of our blessed Redeem- \ner. May we forget every thing about ourselves but \nour responsibility, the shortness of our lives, our final \naccount, and our eternal state ; and may we always \nremember that many, many souls, in their eternal in- \nterests, depend on our faithfulness. May God make \nus faithful. \n\n\"The greatness of this work should rest like a* \nheavy weight on our minds. O ! it is a work for eter- \nnity. The mischiefs of unfaithfulness here can never \nbe repaired. To fail here, is to ^l for ever. If souls \nare lost through our neglect, they are murdered. May \nwe, with our might, do all for God. O ! to be devoted \nservants of his, and workmen that need not be asham- \ned. Then, when we come to give an account of our \nstewardship, we shall have joy and not grief. \n\n\"Ministers, of all others, should be Jioly men; \nChristians every where, and no common ChrUtiaM; \nalways setting an example for the flock to imitate. \n\n\n\nJAML8 MtAIMEKD TATLOH. 81 \n\nO for perfect love, for complete sanctification for the \noffice which awaits us I'' \n\nIt will be seen by all who read the preceding lines, \nthat James B. Taylor was by no means satisfied \nwith his religious attainments. His daily and most \nearnest prayer was for higher and holier zeal, and \nmore fervent love. He was fully persuaded that a \nChristian, in the use of the appointed means, might \nmake continual progress in the divine life, and ad- \nvance far beyond his Christian stature. And this high \nattainment was the object of his continual desire. \n\nHis repeated declarations show, that from the time \nhe made a public profession of religion until the year \n1822, he longed for, and with much earnestness sought \nclearer manifestations of the divine favor, and greater \nconformity to the divine will. He was under the abid- \ning feeling that, without higher attainments in holi- \nness, he never could enter the ministry. During the \nspring vacation of 1822 he visited his parents, and, as \nit would seem, resolved to consecrate this time of re- \nlaxation from study to the special object of seeking \nsuch an increase of religion as would relieve him \nfrom many doubts which harassed his mind. It was \nhis privilege at this period to enjoy the society of \nsome relatives, who, according to his account, were \npersons of very distinguished zeal and piety. He \nmade much lise of their conversation and prayers, as \nwell as of other means for the accomplishment of his \nobject All his subsequent papers refer to the twenty \nthird of Aprii^ in this year, as the most important era \nin his Christian life. He then gave himself up to \nChrist with a strength of purpose, a depth of feeling. \n\n\n\n82 MEMOIR OF \n\nand an unreservednesg of which he had never before \nbeen conscious. And he was made to partake of peace, \nof joy, of rapture, such as he had never eljcperienced. \nIt was a great revival of religion in his heart. He \nknew something of that ''hope which maketh not \nashamed;\" of that ''perfect love which casteth out \nfear ;\" of that joy which is unspeakable and full of \nglory. In a great number of letters written about \nthis time, and years afterwards, he dwells on this sea- \nson and its blessings. The fullest account, however, \nof the whole case, is given in a letter, dated May, \n1823, which is here introduced, as the event recorded \nhad a very strong bearing on his religious character \nand his whole future conduct. \n\n\" LawrenceviUe, May 11, 1828. \n\n\" This is the Lord^s day morning ; and it comes to \nme a welcome Sabbath. I awoke with the sensible \npresence of the Savior. How delightful the presence \nof Jesus ! It is he who makes us happy. Take him \nfrom the soul, and the sinner's hope of pardon is gone \n—take him from the Christian, and his peace is gone. \nIf he is not with the believer in the swellings of Jor^ \ndan^ he has no rod and staff to support him — take him \nfrom heaven, and it is no place of bliss. Truly, Jeans \nChrist is all in all. \n\n\" This day brings with it a privilege of no ordinary \nkind. It is that of witnessing the good profession of \nthe church in this village, and of testifying to the \nworld that I am on the Lord's side. Once more I am \ncalled to sit at the table of the Lord Jesus and cele- \nbrate his dying love — ^may I do it in remembrance of \nhim, penitently, humbly, with faith, with love, with \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAIMERD TAYLOR. 83 \n\npeace, with joy ! I would remember him as the man \nwho is Jehovah's fellow, (Zech. 13:7,) set up from \neverlasting — I would remember him as the promised \nseed, who should bruise the serpent's head — as the \nlooked for Shiloh — as the Messiah foretold by the \nprophets. . I would remember him as already come*— \nthe babe of Bethlehem— »the man of sorrows — the dcf* \npised Nazarene — the friend of publicans and sinners. \nI would remember him as voluntarily humbling him* \nself, and although rich, for our sakes becoming poor, \nthat we through his poverty might be made rich. I \nwould remember him in the garden in his agony — \nbefore au earthly tribunal, though Judge of all the \nearth — on the cross, thirsting, bleeding, groaning, dy- \ning, although he is the Lord of life and glory. I \nwould remember him in the grave, in his resurrection, \nand in his various manifestations to his disciples. In \na word, I would remember him as delivered for our of- \nfences, and raised again for our justification. \n\n*' What an honor, to have a name and a place among \nhis people here below. But what is a name and a place, \nif we are destitute of the badge of true discipleship ? \nI mean the badge of love — supreme love to God, uni- \nverecU love to men. \n\n\" But I would remember the forbearance and mercy \nof him whose name is lovr. I would never forget \nthat fourteen years of my life were spent in folly and \nin sin, and yet I was not cut down as a cumberer of \nthe Lord's vineyard ; that by the Holy Spirit I was \nconvinced of sin and converted. I would remember \nJesus as my best friend, in the midst of temptations, \ntrials, and afflictions — as him who has not only per- \nmitted me to taste of his grace, but has filled me with \n\n\n\nS4 MEMOIR OF \n\nhis ' perfect love,' which ' casteth out fear,' save the \nfilial fear of offending my Father. I would indeed re* \nmember him as my Lord, my portion, and my all. \n\n^ The Lord has often made himself known to me \nin the breaking of bread, particularly during the las \nyear. My soul has, indeed, been richly fed at the \ncommunion table. 'J'he intercourse between my heart \nand heaven has been frequent and full. Jesus has \nbeen exceedingly precious. May I find the tabernacle \nof the Lord of hosts ' amiable ' this day because of his \npresence ; may the banner of Jesus over me be love ; \nand may his food be sweet to my taste ! Then shall I \nsit under the shadow of the Almighty ; my spiritual \nstrength will be renewed ; and I shall be happy in the \nLord my Savior. \n\n\" I reperused with interest a letter received from \nyou in 1819. Among other things contained in it, I \nfound the following: — 4t is thought by some pious \npersons, that the course of study usually pursued in \nthe present day, by candidates for the ministry, is cal- \nculated to abate that fervor in religion which is so \ndesirable.' However this may have appeared to the \nobservation of others, I have not discovered it to be \nthe case in many instances. On the contrary, it is to \nbe hoped that young men, in a course of preparation \nfor the sacred office, grow in grace as they advance \nin knowledge. Surely, if they do not, they will have \noccasion to accuse themselves of base ingratitude and \nvery culpable negligence. That some are thus wo- \nfully remiss cannot be doubted. In the words of your \ncorrespondent, as quoted, they become, in the course \nof their education, ' very different men, with a very \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 85 \n\ndifferent kind of piety ; and time must show whether \nIt is better or worse.' \n\n'' But thanks; everlasting^ thanks to the great Head \nof the church, that he has not suffered my graces to \nlanguish and die. It is to his rich grace that I owe it \nall. He has done gveat and wonderful things for me \nsince I commenced studying for the ministry. Shall \nI tell you 1 My tongue could not, much less can my \npen express the loving kindness of the Lord to me, \nwho am less than the least of all his mercies. ' Eter- \nnity is too short to utter all his praise.' But I may tell \nyou some of the merciful dealings of the Lord to my \nsoul. \n\n^^You will doubtless recollect how often I have \ncomplained to you of the littleness of my attainments \nin the divine life ; how much of sin was still remain- \ning within me, notwithstanding my profession that I \nhad crucified the world, the flesh and the devil. I \nhave had keener sorrows for indwelling sin than I \never experienced before conversion. O the distress \nwhich I have felt on account of pride, envy, love of \nthe world, and other evil passions, which have risen \nup and disturbed my peace, and separated between \nGod and my soul. But the Lord heard my cries and \ngroans, and was witness to my tears and my desires \nfor holiness. I pleaded and wrestled with him ; and, \npraise to his name! after six long years I found \nwhat I had so long and so earnestly sought. It was \non the 23d of April, 1822, when I was on a visit at \nHaddam, in Connecticut. Memorable day ! The time \nand place will never, no, never be forgotten. I recur \nto it at this moment with thankful remembrance. For \n\nS J. B. Taylor. \n\n\n\n86 MEMOIR or \n\nthen, through the great love and power of our Lord, \nmy feet were set in a large place. \n\n\" I cannot give you the particulars better than by \nmaking an extract from my journal : \n\n' For some days 1 have been desirous to visit some \nfriends, who are distinguished for 'fervor of piety, \nand remarkable for the happiness which they eigoy in \nreligion. It was my hope, that by associating with \nthem, and through the help of their prayers, I might \nfind the Lord more graciously near to my soul. After \nmy arrival, I took up a hymn book, where I found a \nhymn descriptive of my situation. The perusal of \nthis increased my desire that the Lord would visit me, \nand fill me with the Holy Ghost — my cry to him was, \n\" seal my soul for ever thine.\" I lifted up my heart in \nprayer that the blessing might descend. I felt that I \nneeded something which I did not possess. There \nwas a void within, which must be filled, or I could \nnot be happy. My earnest desire then was, as it had \nbeen ever since I professed religion six years before, \nthat all love of the world might be destroyed — all sel- \nfishness extirpated — pride banished — unbelief remov- \ned — all idols dethroned — every thing hostile to holi-' \nness, and opposed to the divine will, crucified ; that \nholiness to the Lord might be engraved on my heart, \nand evermore characterize my conversation. My \nmind was led to reflect on what would probably be \nmy future situation. It recurred to me, I am to be \nhereafter a minister of the Gospel. But how shall I \nbe able to preach in my present state of mind ? I can- \nnot — never ; no, never shall I be able to do it with \npleasure, without great overtumings in my soul. I \nfelt that I needed that^ for which I was then, and for \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAIN EHD TAYLOR. 87 \n\na long time had been, hungering and thirsting, I de- \nsired it, not for my benefit only, but for that of the \nchurch and the world. At this very juncture I was \nmost delightfully conscious of giving up all to €k)d. \nI was enabled in my heart to say, Here, Lord, take \nme, take my whole soul, and seal me thine — thine \nnow, and thine for ever. ^' If thou wilt, thou canst \nmake me clean.\" There then ensued such emotions \nas I never before experienced — all was calm and tran- \nquil, silent, solemn — and a heaven of love pervaded \nmy whole soul. I had a witness of God's love to me, \nand of mine to him. Shortly after, I was dissolved in \ntears of love and gratitude to our blessed Lord. The \nuame of Jesus was precious to me. '^ 'Twas music in \nmy ear.\" He came as king, and took full possession \nof my heart ; and I was enabled to say, ^^ I am crucified \nwith Christ : nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but Christ \nliveth in me.\" — Let him, as King of kings and Lord \nof lords, reign in me, reign without a rival for ever.' \n\"But this is not all — since that blessed season I have \nenjoyed times of refreshment, in which I have gained \nnearer access to Qod, I have enjoyed his presence from \nday to day. Not one I believe has passed, in which I \nhave not had the witness in myself that I am born from \nabove. O the peace which I have had, and joy in the \nHoly Ghost ! It has flowed as a river. I have been hap- \npy in my Lord ; I have exulted in the God of my salva- \ntion. But I ascribe all to his grace. The Lord hath done \ngreat things for me, whereof I am glad, and for which \nI would praise his name. Not unto me, not unto me ! \nI am nothing — ^Jesus is all. To his name be the glory ! \nHe is the author and finisher of faith. I know and \nam as iiilly assured of my acceptance with God as I \n\n\n\n88 MKMOIA OP \n\ncan be of my existence — that is, if ' love, joy, peace, \nare evidences of reconciliation. I have a hope full cl \nglorious immortality. The perieot love of God cast- \neth out all fear of death, of the grave, of judgment, of \nhell. Filial fear — fear of offending my heavenly Fa- \nther and my brethren, possesses me. Surely I am a \nmiracle of grace — a sinner saved by grace, free grace, \nsovereign grace, almighty grace. I feel th^t I love the \nLord, because he first loved me. And, even now, I \nam favored with the gracious presence of EmmanueL \nHow suitable and delightful is the name — God with \nics ! — yes, 2iiL^ formed within us the hope of glory. \n\n\" I find the Scriptures increasmgly delightful. I read \nno book with so much pleasure. It is indeed not a \ndead letter^ but spirit and life. Divinity is stamped \non its pages ; and when carried home to the heart, its \ntruths are life and power. \n\n^' In closet duties you doubtless find most pleasure \nHere I too find the heavenly manna. My soul has \nhad Gospel measure in my evening's retirement. 'Tis \nhere the Christian comes at the essence of religion, \nwhile he holds intimate communion with heaven, and \npartakes of joys sublime and substantial, such as the \nworld knoweth not, the unrenewed never taste. But \nthey are real ; they are pure ; they are foretastes of \ngood things to come, earnests of future endless bliss. \n\n^^ The prospect before me is a pleasant one. I have \nno anxiety about the future. My only wish is to know \nwhat my heavenly Father will have me to do. I have, \nindeed, the ministry in view. I believe that the great \nHead of the church has called me to prepare for it. \nBut whether he will count me worthy to be put into \nit, is not for me to decide. / would not determine. He \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINBRD TAYLOR. 89 \n\nmay see fit to remove me hence before I shall have \nfinished my course of study. Pleasing thought, if it be \nhis will ! With some he has dealt thus, and so taken \nthem from rendering service below, to render a perfect \nservice above. But whether my life be protracted or \nshortened, my inquiry is, ' Lord, what wilt thou have \nme to do ?' ' Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth.' I \nam not my own keeper ; neither would I be at my own \ndisposal. ^Godliness with contentment is great gain.' \nI trust that I have won this prize. Pray that I may \nkeep and finish my course with joy. \n\n'^ Thus I have spoken of the Lord's dealings, and \ntestified to his goodness. I have spoken to you with \nthe familiarity and confidence of a friend. Do not \nthink me an egotist \n\n\" And now may I ask you, ' Is it well with thee ?' \nIf I mistake not, you were once not a little harassed \nwith fears, and perplexed with doubts. Have you \ngained the ascendancy over your adversary ? If not, \nbe assured it is your privilege. ' For this purpose was \nJesus manifested, that he might destroy the works of \nthe devil.' And it is not his pleasure that we should \nalways be babes, or even young men. He would have \nus arrive at the stature of perfect men m Christ Jesus. \nAlas ! how many seem to be ever learning, and never \nable to come to the knowledge of the truth. There \nare some who are always complaining of their dead- \nness and want of spirituality. Do you know the rea- \nson ? Certainly it is not because they have religion, \nbut because they have no more religion. The effect \nof true piety is to quicken and enliven the soul, to \nmake its possessor spiritual and heavenly-mmded, \n' which if life and peace.' All, all should be on the \n\n8* \n\n\n\n90 MEMOIR OF \n\nalert ; ' up and doing ' for their Master's cause. Indeed, \nthere is much land to be possessed ; much in onr own \nhearts ; much in our families ; much in our neighbor* \nhood ; much in the world at large. Who wiU le Chris- \ntians in deed and in truth ? who will be decidedly for \nthe Lord — eminently holy and devoted servants of the \nMost High 1 There is much to do ; much for you and \nmuch for me to accomplish ; and our time is short. O \nfor more of Enoch's spirit, that I may walk with God \ncontinually ; for more of the meekness and the ardof \nof our Savior. In a word, let us live for God, for hea- \nven, for eternity. Then shall we ' rejoice evermore, \npray without ceasing, and in every thing give thanks.' \nThe world will sink into nothing before us — souls will \nbe valued according to their worth — the divine gloiy \nwill be our chief aim, and heaven our final home. \n\n'^ What shall I say more 1 May you and I seek to \nbe uncommon Christians ; that is, eminently holy, Ho^ \nliness becometh the house of the Lord. It is this-whieli \nconforms us to his image, which fits us for communion \nwith him here, and which only will fit us for heareA \nand for glory.\" \n\nThis letter is given at full length, because it eon- \ntains the most clear and distinct account of the most \nremarkable revival of religion with which our de* \nparted brother was favored after his conversion. He \nwas afterwards blessed with many similar seasons of \nrefreshment ; and the letters which follow this event \nare uniformly in a higher strain of joyful feeling. In \na communication addressed to his parents, dated July \n16, 1822, there is a display of filial and fraternal love \nmingled with Christian affection and joy, evincing a \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 9i \n\nhigh and sustained mental excitement. The father, \nmother, and all the grown np children, had become \nhopefully pious. In reference to this subject he ex- \npresses himself thus : \n\n\" When I look at my father^s house my heart is filled \nwith praise for what God has wrought. I now rejoice \nin the assurance that the family altar is frequented \nevery day, and that there is offered up the sacrifice of \nbroken spirits and contrite hearts. How comforting ! \nThis looks like having a little heaven to go to hea- \nven in. My dear parents, may you ever abide under \nthe shadow of the Almighty, find the banner of Jesns \noyer you to be love, and his food to be sweet to your \ntaste I May your house be a Bethel to each of your \nsouls,\" &c. \n\nAfter addressing most earnest and affectionate ex- \nhortations to each of his sisters, he adds concerning \nhimself, '^ Of all others I have most reason to praise \nthe Lord, because he has kept me in perfect peac6. \nPrecious seasons, delightful hours I have enjoyed, and \nthe remembrance of them is sweet. The Lord has \nmanifested himself to me by his Spirit, and I now feel \nhis presence ; my heart is stayed on the Lord ; Jesus \nis precious ; and I feel an increased determination to \ngive up all for Christ, for he is worthy.\" \n\nIn another letter he says, '^ Thanks to my heavenly \nFather, I can write to you in a new strain. My former \ncommunications have been full of complaint, yet I did \nnot tell you of half the distress which I felt on ac- \ncount of coldness in my Master's service, lest I should \n\n\n\nd2 MEMOIR OF \n\ndistress you with the narrative. But now I feel that 1 \ncan never sufficiently praise the Lord for all that he \nhas done for me. I will take the cup of salvation and \ncall on his name. I would also call on my soul, and \nall that is within me, to bless him for the great deli- \nverance which he has wrought. Surely he has deli- \nvered me from the snare of the fowler — he has set my \nfeet in a large place, and made me to rejoice in hu \ngreat salvation. Never have I enjoyed so much in re- \nligion as since the 23d of last April. That was, and \never will be a memorable day to me. The kingdom of \nGod, which is righteousness, and peace, and joy in the \nHoly Ghost, was then, if ever, set up within me. \nPraise the Lord for it ! He is cUL I am nothing. The \nglory of my salvation, from first to last, shall be as- \ncribed to the Triune Jehovah.\" \n\nTo another he expresses himself thus t *' Since my \narrival at Lawrencevilie I addressed to you a letter \ntestifying the goodness of God to my soul. I have now \nto say, to the praise of his grace, that he has con- \ntinued his favors. At this time I enjoy an indescriba- \nble peace, it passes knowledge, and yet it is a blessed \nreality. And it is now my earnest desire that all \nChristians may strive for a deeper work of grace in \ntheir hearts. \n\n^' I am ready to testify to the world that the Lord \nhas blessed my soul beyond my highest expectations. \nPeople may call this blessing by what name they \nplease, faith of assurance^ holiness, perfect love^ \nsanctification — it makes no difference with me whe« \nther they give it a name, or no name, it continues a \nblessed reality, and, thanks to my heavenly Father, it \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 93 \n\nis my privilege to enjoy it — it is yours also, and the \nprivilege of all, to enjoy the same, and to go beyond \nany thing that I have ever yet experienced.\" \n\nA careful perusal of the letters written during the \nfew months which followed the season so often ad- \nverted to, has convinced the compiler of this memoir \nthat it was followed by a great and permanent increase \nof holiness and of religious enjoyment. Yet that there \nwas in connection with this, an exposure to a serious \nerror in the direction of his future life, is undeniable. \nHis desire to be engaged in preaching immediately \nwas so strong that he came near to the resolution that \nhe would abandon his course of preparatory study, and, \nif possible, forthwith enter the pulpit ; and if he had \nnot possessed the degree of genuine scriptural piety \nwhich he actually had attained, there is no doubt but \nthat the fervor of his feelings would have carried him \noff in a very devious course. But when judicious \nfriends presented to him the truth, and he carefully \nreflected on it, the path of duty appeared plain before \nhim ; and the power of conscience, as soon as it was \nbetter informed, was sufficient to restrain the ardor of \nhis wishes. And with a docility, and a frankness to \nacknowledge his mistake, which does honor to his me* \nmory, he returned to his studies ; and pursued them, as \nHealth permitted, with exemplary steadiness and re- \ngularity. And always, after he had thoroughly ex- \namined this subject, he felt, as will fully appear in the \nsequel, the obligation to improve, as far as possible, \nall his facilities, that he might with more efficiency \npreach the CJospel of Jesus Christ to his perishing f cl- \nlow-msn. \n\n\n\n94 MEMOIR OF \n\nHe had a powerful impression of the necessity of \nraising much higher than ordinary the standard of mi- \nnisterial piety. He thought that Christians universally \nmight make, and must make, attainments in religiou \nfar beyond those of ordinary professors ; and he was \nconvinced that this was not likely to take place until \npreachers of the Gospel should become in a most emi- \nnent degree holy men. But at the same time his own \nexperience and observation convinced him that young \nmen, while laboring to kindle up the fire of zeal, and \ncultivating an ardent love for the work of the minis- \ntry and for the souls of men, were liable to be drawn \noif from their preparatory studies, and hurried into the \nsacred office before they were suitably prepared for it. \nHe also knew that there are many Christians of indis< \ncreet zeal, who very frequently suggest to students \nthat they are wasting their time and chilling their \nardor in the prosecution of dry and barren studies while \nsouls are perishing. And although he never in the \nslightest degree intimated an expectation that a me- \nmoir of him would be prepared, yet he frequently ex- \npressed the wish that candidates for the ministry might \nlearn rather from the experience of others than their \nown, the unspeakable importance of uniting an un- \ncommon degree of piety and zeal with very thonmgh \npreparation for their work. He was convinced that \nit was exceedingly important that ministers of the \nGospel should have religion enough to make them \nalways happy ; because that would commend Chris- \ntianity to others, would make them love the arduous \nlabors of their office, and carry them pleasantly through \nall its trials. \n\nFrom the 23d of April, 1822, to the last day of his \n\n\n\nJAMBS BftAlMERD TAYLOR. 9ft \n\nlife, he retained immovably the conviction, that by \nthe diligent and faithful use of the means appointed \nby Jesus Christ, there might be attainments in piety, \nand all its fruits, love, joy, peace, hope, assurance, of \nwhich professors of religion ordinarily have no ade- \nquate idea. On this subject the reader will find him \nexpressing himself in very strong terms, in letters \nhereafter to be inserted. And why may it not be so ? \nThe economy of grace, so far from discouraging the \nuse of means, does, when properly understood, afford \nthe highest inducements to use them with, all dili- \ngence. The relation between cause and effect is as \nfully established in spiritual as in physical affairs. It \nis just as true in the one case as in the other, that the \nhand of the diligent maketh rich. And if one may not \nexpect success in the use of measures presented for \nour growth in holiness, there can be no motive to em- \nploy them, and no wisdom in their appointment. Now, \nwho can set limits to a Christian's growth in grace, \nor to the increase of his spiritnal joy ? May not one, \nwho every day sets himself, with all the activity of \nintense desire, to make advancement in the divine life, \nexpect daily to get forward ? If a Christian will never \nlet unrepented sin rest on his conscience — no, not for \nan hour ; if he never will omit any duty which for \nthe time he can possibly perform ; if he will not rest \nsatisfied a moment without the light of his Father's \ncountenance shining on him : why may not all joy \nabound in him, and he always abound in the work of \nthe Lord? In perusing christian biography, and in \nobserving the lives of Christians, it is manifest that \nthere is a veryjwide difference between the piety and \nthe religious enjoyment of different persons. And it is \n\n\n\n96 BI£MOIB OP \n\nvery clear that there is also as wide a difference be- \ntween their respective diligence and activity in xakng \nthe means of religious improvement. \n\nThis subject is urged in this manner, because the \nunhappy dispute which has risen on the subject of \nperfection, has been so managed as to induce in many \nthe belief that doubt, despondency, and occasional \ngloom, are important evidences of Christian character. \nIt is undoubtedly true, too, that the spiritual {uride of \nsome who have pretended to be free from all sin, and \nto have attained the assurance of hope, has rendered \nmore modest Christians unwilling to speak with con- \nfidence of their spiritual state. But it ought to be un- \nderstood that these two subjects are totally distinct. \nThere will always be enough about the Christian, \nwhile he is in the body, to keep him humble, and to \nmake him shrink from the claim of perfection. Yet it \nis certainly the doctrine of the Scriptures that believers \nought to rise to the stature of full grown men in Christ \nJesus ; that they may attain to such a state as to be \nable to say, \" We know on whom we have believed ;*' \nthat it is their privilege to rejoice evermore ; yea, even \nwith a \" joy unspeakable and full of glory.\" But if all \nthis is not believed — if it is taken for granted that we \nmust go sorrowful and in doubt through this world ; \nthen no efforts will be made, no means will be em- \nployed to rise to that happy and joyous state, of which \nthe Bible speaks m frequent and strong terms. But \nnothing is more certain than the truth, that no bless- \ning is obtained in religion, any more than in the affairs \nof this world, without effort. The economy of grace \nis such, that, by following the plain directions of the \nBible, Christians will grow up into Christ their head \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 97 \n\nin all things. Let students of theology then, and Chris- \ntians generally, helieve that they may hecome very \neminently holy and happy, and that it is their dnty \nto be so. \n\nThe determination of Mr. Taylor to return to that \ncourse of study which he had first marked out, did not \nin the least abate the fervor of his zeal, nor lessen his \nefforts to make that continual progress in piety which \nhe felt that every one ought to make who has the sa- \ncred office in view. The following extracts from his \nletters will show that his religious enjoyments were \ncontinued, and indeed rendered more permanent and \nexalted. But it ought to be understood that he did not \nftUow his piety to expend itself in mere feeling. His \nreligion was not that of a retired contemplative mys- \ntic ; he was perfectly altTC to ail the charities of life ; \nand he omitted no opi^unity of doing good, which \nwas either presented or could be made by him. In a \nword, the experience which he had acquired served \nthe double purpose of making him conscientious in his \nendeavors to store his mind with useful and necessary \nknowledge, and to imbue his heart more and more en- \ntirely with the «pirit of the Gospel. At the same time \nhe was exceedingly desirous that his Christian friends \nshould partake of such religious, enjoyments as he \nhimself was favored with. He thus writes to one who \nhad, at an early period in life, made a public profes- \nsion of faith in Jesus Christ : \n\n\" L , October 31, 1822. \n\n« — — * A hope of eternal life is indeed a treasure \n\nmore precious than gold, yea, than much fine gold.' \n\nWhen I saw you last, you expressed doubts and fi^irs \n\n9 i. \\s.Tti-sVot. \n\n\n\n98 MEMoia or \n\nrespectiug yourself. You also wished to obtain a \nbrighter evidence, a clearer witness of your accep- \ntance with God. The desire is laudable, and it may \nbe gratified: for full assurance is attainctble. And \nwho is happy without it 1 \n\n\" To attain what you desire, two things are ne- \ncessary. \n\n^^ 1. You must believe that it is attainable. \n\n\" 2. You must seek it with your whole heart, \n\n\" 1. You must believe that it is attainable. That it \nIS so, see for proof, Heb. 6 : 11. We there find a de- \nsire expressed that the Hebrews might possess it to \nthe end. Paul enjoyed it, 2 Tim. 4 : &~8. The eighth \nverse plainly shows that the writer possessed full as' \nsurance. ^ There is laid up for me a crown of righte- \nousness, w:hich the Lord, the righteous Judge, will \ngive me at that day.' See also Rom. 8 : 38, 39. ' For \nI am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, \nnor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor \nthings to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other \ncreature, shall be able to separate us from the love of \nGod which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.' Many others, \nbesides the apostle, to the lasting joy of their souls, \nhave found this truth a blessed reality. \n\n\" 2. Therefore you must look unto Jesus, the author \nand finisher of faith. Heb. 12 : 2. Mere belief that \nassurance is attainable, will not bring down the bless- \nmg to our possession. The prodigal son believed that \nthere was bread enough and to spare in his father's \nhouse, while he was feeding on husks. But what \nwould this conviction have availed had he not ccine \nto the resolution, ' I will arise and go unto my father?' \nand what his belief and resolution, had he not put \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAlNBto TAYLOR. fK) \n\nthe resplye in execution ? Exertion is necessary. Can \nwe attain any object of desire without using means \nadapted to the end in view ? \n\n*' Suffer, then, the word of exhortation. Give all di- \nligence to secure that, which I trust the Holy Spirit \nhas caused you to desire. Let your cry be continually \nto the Lord, that your soul may be filled with perfect \npeace. Be encouraged — for the promise is. ^ Ask, and \nyou shall receive.' You have ' an advocate with the \nFather, Jesus Christ the righteous.' He has said, Mf \nye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.' John. \n14 : 14, &c. Ask, O ask, that your joy may be fulL\" \n\nThe following, to the. same friend, is so full of the \nfervor of piety, that the reader will peruse it with deep \ninterest. \n\n\"I* , November 9, 1822. \n\n'^ The retrospect to you, as to me, is no doubt min- \ngled with emotions of regret and joy. For, once we \nwere aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and \nstrangers to the covenants of promise. Nearly fifteen \nyears of my life were spent at a distance from God, \nm pursuit of a phantom, a visionary object^ denom ma- \nted by its votaries, pleasure. With what eagerness I \nfollowed that on which I have long since stamped va- \nnity and vexation of spirit, the companions of my \nyouth could testify. But, alas ! two of them have gone, \nnever to return — their bodies to the place appointed \nfor all the living, their immortal spirits to the bar \nof their righteous Judge. One departed with bright \nevidence of a work of grace inwrought by the Holy \nSpirit — yes, even in the triumphs of faith, saying, just \n\n\n\n100 MSMOn OF \n\nbefore she left the iroM^ ' I am going soon, my Sa- \nvior is near.' The other manifested no token of a \nchange of heart. Should these persons now give tes- \ntimony respecting the hilarity of our youthfol days, \nhow deep would be their tone, of reprobation 1 But \nsoon the day of account will come, and all must an- \nswer for the deeds done in the body. \n\n'^ Besides the person first mentioned, only two others \nof my youthful companions, as I believe, have denied \nthemselves, taken up the cross, and followed the Savior. \n\n* Why waf I made to hear thy voice, \n\n' And enter while there's room ; \n' While thousands make a wretched ehoiee, \n\n*.And rather starve than come.' \n\n^^ When I had reached the age of fifteen years and \nfive months, I publicly professed the religion of Christ \nand joined myself to his people. This confession was \nwitnessed on the 15th of Sept. 1816. The vows then \nmade to be the Lord's, have often since been repeated \nin the closet and in the sanctuary. Eventful era in \nmy life ! Never by me to be forgotten ! Its annual le- \ntum always brings grateful recollections. \n\n\" On last Sabbath I was privileged to obey the dy- \ning command of the Lord Jesus, ' Do this in remem- \nbrance of me.' It was a most precious season. The \nintercourse between my soul and heaven was open \nand free. I was brought into the banqueting house of \nthe Beloved ; and his banner over me was *love. Truly \nI had communion with the Father, and with his Son \nJesus Christ, through the Holy Spirit. My brethren \nand sisters, both in the church militant and the church \ntriumphant, were objects of my affection— yes, all \n\n\n\nJAMES BKAIMBRD TAYLOR. 101 \n\nwho were purchased hy the redemption that is in \nChrist Jesus. I also with all my heart desired the \nconversion of impenitent sinners. Indeed the Lord \nwas present to bless me with gotfpe^9flea«ttre, pressed \ndown, shaken together, and running over. Commu- \nnion seasons grow better and better. And so it ought \nto be. By and by I hope to drink new wine in the pa- \nradise above. \n\n> When shall I wake and find me there T \n\nglorioas honr ! O bleit abode ! \n\n1 shall be near, and like my God, \nAnd lleah and sin no- more eontrol \nThe iaered pleasures of the soul.' \n\n< I said that the 15th of September, 1816, was, and \never will be an eventful era to me. But there is ano- \nther day to which I shall ever recur with as much, if \nnot more interest. It was the 23d of last April. On \nthat day the Lord wrought a deeper work of grace in \nmy soud than at any former period. Yes, blessed be \nhit holy name for ever ! he condescended to bestow a \nfavor, for which I had been longing for years — the \nwitness of which I have enjoyed daily ever since. I \ncannot tell you what I have enjoyed from his fullness ; \nbut let it sufiice to say that my peace has flowed like \na river; and I can testify that I have experienced \nmore of the presence of the Lord than during my \nwhole previous existence. The earnest of the pur- \nchased possession has been given to me, and I have \nrejoiced in the hope of the glory of God, and of the \nrest which remaineth for his people. \n\n'^ I wish you to understand that I advert to this sub- \n\n9* \n\n\n\n103 MBMOiB or \n\nject, and dwell on it, becaase I wish to show forth the \ndirine goodness as manifested to so unworthy a sin* \nner as I am ; and to testify the loving-kindness of the \nLord. \n\n\" It may encourage my friend, who, I trust, has \ntasted that the Lord is gracious. Let me again urge \nyou to seek until you obtain that bright evidence of \nyour acceptance which you desire. Never give orer \n*he effort. The adversary is ever near to cheat you \nout of the promised blessing. But the word of truth \nassures us, that if we resist him, he will flee from us ; \nand that if we draw nigh to God, he will draw nigh \nto us. ' Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst \nafter righteousness, for they shall be filled.' ' If ye, \nbeing evil, know how to give good gifts to your chil- \ndren, kow much more shall your heavenly Father give \nthe Holy Spirit to them that ask him.' Such are the \npromises which encourage us. If then you seek and \nfind not, search narrowly into your heart, and see if \nthere is any thing cherished there inconsistent with \nyour desires to obtain this blessing; any thing opposed \nto holiness, such as love of the world, pride, selfish- \nness, d^. Qod does not come and dwell in the heart \nwhere he finds rivals. Before you venture to approach \nthe holy presence of the Lord and offer sacrifice to \nhim, examine yourself carefully, and put far away \nevery thing that can hinder the blessing. If you fed \nhow important it is that believers should be sanctified \nwholly, in soul, body and spirit, you will excuse the \nplainness of my speech. Allow me to propose a ques- \ntion, which has occurred to my mind since I wrote the \npreceding paragraph. Why may not you be an un- \ncommon Christian 7 Do you see any thing to prevent \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMEB^ TAYLOR. ' 108 \n\nIt ? Is not the Lord on yonr side 1 Have you not tlie \nGod of Jacob for your refuge ? Have you not an Ad- \nvocate with the Father, who is also a sympathising \nfriend, having been in all points tempted as his dis- \nciples, yet without sin ? O then strive for it. Keep \n* the world, the flesh, and the devil ' continually under \nyour feet, and heaven continually in view ; that you \nmay have heaven within you. Is it not for this that \nyou have been brought into the church at a very early \nperiod in life ? Is it not your duty to be an uncommon^ \nthat is, a very humble, self-denying, cross-bearing, (in \na word,) bible christian 1 And it is no less your pri- \nvilege than your duty. \n\n^' Pray for me, that I may have more faith, humility, \npatience, yea, every thing to make me Christ-like. \n\n\" With beat regards, &c. J. B. T.\" \n\nTo the same. \n\n\"* November 23, 1822. \n*• The«aoul may be in heaviness through manifold \ntemptations, 1 Peter, 1 : 6. Then, and in all times of \ndifficulty, there is an opportunity for trusting in the \nLord, and seeking him until he come and accomplish \na complete deliverance. To be tempted is not a sin — \nbut to yield to temptation. To endure it is a blessing, \nJames, 1 : 13. But if temptation takes effect, it will \nbring forth death, ver. 15. Thanks to heaven's high \nKing, ' the Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out \nof temptations,' 2 Peter, 2 : 9. Then lee us commit our \ncause into the hands of 'the Author and Finisher of \nour faith,' who ' worketh in us both to will and to do \nof bis good pleasure.' And after all our exertions for \n\n\n\n104 BIEMOIB OP \n\ndeepening the work of grace in our souls, may we he \npassive in his hands. Although our whole life should \nbe one continued scene of doubt and fear, hearen will \nmake amends for all. But ask and look for overeamr \ning gr€u:e here — now. There is enough and to spare. \nLet me request that your prayers be offered up on my \nbehalf-— that the Lord would make me a faithful ser- \nvant in his vineyard, should he call me there to labor; \nand that during my work of preparation I may be \nuseful\" \n\nThe following letter to his parents will show that \nhe had been brought to view the subject of prepara- \ntion for the ministry in a proper point of light : \n\n\" December 1, 1822. \n•* My beloved Father and Mother, \n\n\" I have been reading to-day and last evening, Mr. \nParsons' Journal during his visit to Palestine. I found \nit delightful to follow him as he recorded his visits to va- \nrious places in and about the holy city Jerusalem. He \nvisited the holy sepulchre, Mount Calvarv, Mount Oli- \nvet, the Pool of Siloam, Mount Zion, Bethany, Jericho, \nthe Dead Sea, where Sodom and Gomorrah once stood, \nand Bethlehem. On his way from Jerusalem to Beth- \nlehem, from an eminence, he had, at the same mo- \nment, a distinct view of three of the most important \nplaces in the world — Bethlehem, where Jesus Christ \nwas born; Calvary, where he was crucified; and \nMount Olivet, from whence he ascended on high. \nThe associations connected with such a situation are \nat once truly sublime and pleasingly melancholy. But \nMr. Parsons is dead. He rested from his labors as a \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 105 \n\nmissionary on the 9th of last February, at Alexandria, \nin Egypt. He had left father and mother, and putting \nhis life in his hand, had embarked in the missionary \ncause. The tidings of his death must have been truly \nafflictive to his parents. Yet how honored are they \nin having a child to live and die for the Lord ! \n\n\" While reading this journal, the question occurred, \nwho knows but that thai region is marked out as my \nlaboring place. But I give myself no trouble about this \nthing. The Lord knows, and he will let me know, \nwhen the time comes for my going forth into the \nvineyard. \n\n\" I am indeed a wonder to myself, when I think \nwhat I once was, and contrast my former with my \npresent situation and prospects. ' Not unto me — not \nunto me,' but to my gracious Grod be all the glory. \nTo him I owe life, health and comfort. \n\n\" I am as highly favored as I have been. The Lord \nhas taken care of me. At times, when my foot has \nwell nigh slipped, he has been near to uphold me, so \nthat I am under infinite obligations to love and serve \nhim, and ever to speak well of his name. \n\n'' I am more contented with my situation and pros- \npects, and more settled in mind, than I was at one \nperiod. I see more clearly than ever that I have a great \nwork before me, and one that needs great prepara- \ntion. Since I commenced study, you know that I \nhave been much tried on account of the length of my \ncourse. I was anxious to ^et out. But I am now \nthankful to Grod that he did not let me go ; for had I \ngone, what should I have done ? At one time I felt it \nto be my duty to go forth as a preacher immediately \nanother, to curtail my allotted course — I now \n\n\n\n106 MEMon or \n\nlook forward to a complete course, as I did at first. I \nexpect to go to college next fall^ and remain three \nyears ; thence to the theological seminary, and stu- \ndy three years longer. I have learned some lessons \nfrom experience, which, probably, I could have learn- \ned in no other way. These lessons, I have good hope, \nwill benefit me through life. My studies are agreea- \nble — my health is good. The Lord makes my dwell- \ning a Bethel to my soul — I have enjoyed in secret \nmost refreshing seasons. But I want more faith, more \nhumility, more love, more meekness, more of the spirit \nof my Master : in a word, I want to be more like \nChrist, in all my thoughts, words, and actions. \n\n\" By and by, I may become a preacher of the Qospel \n— ^but I may not. Life hangs on a brittle thread. AH \nare alike exposed to the shafts of death. Only a short \ntime since, a student at the theological seminary in \nPrinceton, who had finished his collegiate studies, and \njust entered on his theological course, sickened and \ndied. A young man, also in New Brunswick, study- \ning for the ministry, died but a little while ago. And \nDr. Mason's son at Carlisle, a candidate for the mi- \nnistry, died about the same time. These three young \nmen prosecuted their studies in the same class in col- \nlege, and all died in one month. How mysterious ! \nBut it is the Lord, and he doeth what seemeth him good. \n\n\" These events show us that piety, talents, and pros- \npects of usefulness in the world, are no barriers against \ndeath. May those that are looking forward to the mi- \nnistry consider well that they are mortal ! If the Lord \ndesigns me for the great work of preaching the Gk>8pel, \nhe will spare my life. But should he take me hence \nduring my preparatory studies, it will be, I tmsf, to \n\n\n\nJAM£S BRAINERD TAYLOR. l(ff f \n\nrender to him a perfect service in heaven, instead of \nan imperfect one here on earth. Let none therefore \ntnourn my death, should the Lord take me to himself. \n\n\" There is nothing worth living for in this world \nbut to glorify Grod. And rather than not do this in my \nsubseque^it life, I should prefer to go away to that house \nnot made with hands, eternal in the heavens. There, \nmy dear parents, I expect to meet you — there I expec- \nto meet mv dear brothers and sisters — O ! what thanks \nbelong to our blessed Redeemer, that he has called us \nwith a holv calling. May we, who have given our- \nselves to Christ, be faithful unto death, and enter into \nthe haven ot eternal rest. And not we only, but the \ndear little ones of the family. May God, for. Christ's \nsake, hear our prayers for them — may they all be \nbrought into the fold of Christ — not one left out — that \nours may be a holy, happy, devoted family. \n\n^' Dec. 27. You will observe that this letter was be- \ngun some time ago. By the time it reaches you, prey- \nbably you will have entered on a new year. May it \nprove happy to you in its commencement, in its con* \ntinqance, and in its end. \n\n\"As ever, I would subscribe myself, \n\n\" Your affectionate son, \n\n\" James B. Taylor.\" \n\nThis interesting young man was much accustomed \nCO observe particular seasons and periods of time. On \nthe Jirst day qf the year, 1823, he wrote a letter to \nhis family, which no doubt will long be preserved by \nthem as a precious memorial of his piety and affection. \nHe first takes a view of the dispensations of Provi- \ndence and grace towards the family during the year. \n\n\n\n106 MEMOIH 6T \n\nAnd it appears that during that period the father of \nthe family and three of the children had experienced \nthat change of heart, without which, according to the \ntestimony of Christ, none can enter the kingdom of \nheaven. In producing these important changes, the in- \nstrumentality of the son was greatly blessed. His filial \nreverence and delicacy, combined with christian fide- \nlity, have already been noticed. The same spirit is \nmanifested in this letter, but on this occasion it is min* \ngled with much holy joy. He speaks of 1822 as a year \nof jubilee to the whole family, and describes in rap- \nture the domestic happiness enjoyed, when so many \nhad become true Christians, and were mingling with \nthe charities of natural relationship, the hopes and \njoys of religion. \n\n\" Having addressed you all individually, 1 now come \nto testify to the goodness and loving-kindness of the \nLord which have followed me. \n\n\" Surely of all others I have most reason to speak \nwell of his name, which is above every name ; for in \nthe midst of deserved wrath he hath remembered unde- \nserved mercy. \n\n\" The year 1822 has, of a truth, been a year of ju- \nbilee to my soul. During that period God has done \nmore for me than I ever expected in this world. On \nthe 23d of April he accomplished a work which I had \nlonged for during six years. I feel the^ blessed effects \nof that visitation until this day. And until my dying \ndav I shall have reason to recall that hour wiih thank- \nful remembrance. No year before the one just past \nhas afforded such solid peace in believing. I have had \n\n**ir access to the throne of grace. Jesus has been pre- \n\n\n\n4AM£a BRAINIIrD TAYLOR. 1()9 \n\neious. My endearors to promote the cause of Christ, \nhowever short I may have come, were pat forth with \nincreased pleasure. Preaching has come to my heart \nwith greater power. Communion seasons have been \ndelightful — a little heaven on earth — foretastes of the \njoys to come. Since that 23d of April I have enjoyed \na sweet and lasting evidence of my acceptance with \nGod, so that I have looked on the grave with compo- \nsure, and on death as a messenger to open that door, \nthrough which I should have an abundant entrance \ninto the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Savior \nJesus Christ-^and on heaven as my eternal home, f \nhave had delightful seasons in praying for ihe family, \ncollectively and individually — for Zion and her pros- \nperity, especially for the Jews-^for friends, and espe- \ncially for one who does not profess to love the Lord — \nand for enemies. Think me not boastful when I say \nthat I do love my enemies, and earnestly pray for their \nsalvation. The Lord has commanded us to do this ', \nind he has helped me to obey the command. To him \nbe all the praise ! ' O give thanks unto the Lord, for \nhe is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the \nredeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed \nfrom the hand of the enemy. O God, my heart is fixed. \nI will sing and give thanks.' \n\n\" The retrospect of the year shows that we have \nbeen most highly favored. The windows of heaven \nhave been opened, and have dropped — nay, rather \nhave poured down blessings upon me. We have drunk \nof the wells of salvation, and have tasted that the \nLord is gracious. Surely his eyes have been over us \nfor good from the beginning to the close of the year. \nHe has conducted us safely through dangers seen and \n\nIQ J. B. Tajlor. \n\n\n\nno MEMOUt OF \n\nunseen : he has been ' on our right hand and on our \nleft, 80 that we have not been moved.' Bless the \nLord, O our souls, and all that is within us bless hit \n]\\oly name. Bless the Lord, O our souls, and forget \nnot all his benefits ; who forgiveth all our iniquities, \nwho healeth all our diseases, who redeemeth our lives \nfrom deslruction, and crowneth us with loving-kind- \nness and tender mercies. May he at length give us \nthe crown of glory, the heavenly diadem, purchased \nwith the labors, the tears, the blood, the death of the \nSon of God. \n\n\" For all our short-comings during the past year may \nwe be suitably humbled ; and learn wisdom from the \nconsequences of our remissness. For all the good ob- \ntained for ourselves, or done to others, may we ascribe \nglory to the Lord. For all the evil, may we take shame \nto ourselves. \n\n\" Finally, what shall we render to the Lord for all \nhis benefits 1 A new year has begun its course. It \nmoves with as much rapidity as marked the flight of \nthe old. It will soon be gone ! but we may not live to \nsee its close. How actively, then, should we be en- \ngaged — each one in his place fulfilling his duty! \nMay every revolving day forcibly remind us that our \nlast day is coming ! and may we double our diligence \nin preparing to meet our Judge, that we may render \nour accounts with joy, and not with grief \n\n\"Having been enabled to raise our *Ebenezer,' \nsaying, * Hitherto hath the Lord helped us,' let us in- \nscribe upon our hearts, * Jehovah-Jireh,' the Lord will \nprovide. Abundant is the provision in heaven's store- \nhouse for all the needy. Let us seek and expect great \nblessings from on high. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. Ill \n\n\" May we this year do more than ever for our own \ngrowth in grace and for the welfare of Zion; and as \nwe travel on our way heavenward, may we hear one \nanother's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ ; in- \nterceding, each for all, that we may walk as pilgrims \nand strangers who expect soon to become fellow-citi- \nzens of the saints in glory.\" \n\n[Thus far had this interesting compilation proceed- \ned under the hand of the lamented John Holt Rice, \nwhen it pleased the Lord to say to him, in the favor- \nite phrase of this heavenly-minded young man, \" Come \nup higher.\" And now upon another, incompetent in- \ndeed, but willing friend, has the task devolved to \nfinish what had been so happily begun.] \n\nThe piety, the zeal, the humility, the heavenly- \nmindedness, the ardent desire to be useful in the vine- \nyard of his Lord, which characterized the late James \nB. Taylor, have been already exhibited with such a \nforce of evidence, that every reader must see, what \nevery acquaintance felt, that he had become, as he \nproposed to himself, and often pressed upon others to \nbecome, an uncommon Christian, \n\nHis faith seemed never to waver — his christian af- \nfections never to grow languid — his communion with \n€rod, through the mediation of the Son and by the \naid of the Holy Ghost, was seldom interrupted ; and \nwhen a cloud mtervened, and the divme communica- \ntions were suspended, he rested not till the cause \nwas ascertained, and the light of his heavenly Fa- \nther's countenance again let down upoTi YA^ ^o\\i\\. ^^x \ndid he ever lose sight of the great oV^eet «.^X«t \\]\\iv:' \n\n\n\n112 MEMOIR OF \n\nhis heart panted, and in preparation for which he was \ndiligently engaged. Never, perhaps, did any one \nmore intensely desire to preach the Gospel than did \nJames B. Taylor. \n\nOf the truth of these statements ample proof wi I \nbe found in the following extracts from his correspon- \ndence during this year, and in the fragments of a dia- \nry found among his papers, commencing with the first \nof May, 1823. \n\nTo a venerable minister of the Gospel, for whom \nhe cherished the warmest aflTection, he wrote as fol- \nlows: \n\n\" LawrenceviUe^ Jan, 27, 1823. \n''RoTerend and beloved Sir, \n\n\"When I say that I have not had the privilege \nof receiving a communication from my worthy and \nesteemed father in the Gospel, as I anticipated, he \nwill not consider me as complaining of remiss- \nness ; far be it from me ; for my letters are not, \nneither am I worthy of this notice. Yet the good \ncounsel, the friendly admonitions of one so expe- \nrienced, might have been incalculably useful to one \n80 inexperienced as myself, who, if the Lord of \nthe vineyard permit, will follow on in a course pro- \nbably not unlike your own. Last evening, as I was \nreading the word of God, the following passage came \nin course : < And the Lord said unto Moses, get thee \nup into this mount Abarim, and see the land which I \nhave given to the children of Israel. And when \nthou hast seen it, thou also shalt be gathered to thy \npeople, as Aaron thy brother was gathered.' In medi- \ntation, my mind dwelt upon the situation of Moses \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 113 \n\nand his blessed prospect. O ! how much better to en- \nter the heavenly Canaan than to enjoy an earthly one ! \nI endeavored to place myself upon the mount and \ntake a view of the goodly land. As I mused the fire \nburned, until I could say, Welcome death, that sets \nthe captive soul at liberty I I think I had some of that \nlonging to depart and be with Christ of which the \napostle speaks, and could have finished my course \nwith joy ; yet, frorii my very soul I could say, * Not \nmy will, O Lord, but thine be done.' I saw I had as \ny«t suffered but little for Christ, and was enabled to \nsay, Lord, I will follow thee through toil, through \npersecution, to prison, and to death. Wait, wait pa* \ntiently, O my soul, till thy change come.\" \n\nIn the same letter Mr. Taylor wrote to the young \nmembers of the family as follows : \n\n'^ The year that has just closed has been a memora- \nble one to you ; upon it you can inscribe Jubilee, for \nthus it has proved to your souls. What mercy has \nthe Lord shown you! Thanks to his rich, free, sove- \nreign, almighty grace, that he has rescued .you from \ngoing down to the pit. How has it been with you \nsince you found the Savior precious to your souls ? \nHas he been increasingly so? Have you found your \ncloset devotions growing more delightful 1 the Bible \nmore sweet 7 and the duties of religion more plea- \nsant? What fellowship have you then enjoyed with \nthe Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ ! What a \nblessed religion ! While it enjoins constancy in its \nduties, which to the pious is a privilege, it affords \npeace — peace with Grod — peace with the world — peace \nof conscience. The love of Qod, kmdled up in thf \n\n10* \n\n\n\n114 MEMOU OP \n\nsoul by the Holy Ghost, is the principle fcam which \nemanates love to Christians — love to sinners — love to \nall God's creatures. But, having been bom of God, \nwe must remember that we are not to remain babes in \nChrist. A necessity is laid upon us to leave the first \nprinciples and go on to perfection. Therefore mar \nwe press forward, and give all diligence to make our \ncalling and election sure. To this end we must never \nbe afraid to know the worst of ourselves. Let us ever \npray, ' Search me, O God, and know my heart ; try \nme, and know my thoughts, and see if there be any \nwicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.' \nMay you be uncommon Christians ; that is, eminently \npious and holy, and, like Mary, ever at the feet and \naround the cross of Jesus, the precious Lamb of, \nGod. There is much to be done. The world is to be \nconverted to God ; and why may there not be grea$ \nand lasting good done through your instrumentality 1 \nThen go on. The world may frown — Satan may rage \n— but go on ; live for God. Greater is he that is for \nyou, than all that can be against you and the chris- \ntian cause. May I die in the field of battle. May the \nLord make me a true son of Levi, holy ; and, like \nDavid and Sampson, fearless in his service.\" \n\nTo this letter he received an affectionate reply, con- \ntaining much salutary counsel, and particularly com- \nmending his decision to persevere in his studies pre- \nparatory to the ministry. As the epistle of his aged \nfriend closes with the words, '* The elder in Christ \nJesus salutes you,\" Mr. Taylor, on the 17th February, \nresponded as follows : \n\n^ James, emphaticaUy the less^ a servant of God and \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 115 \n\nof the Lord Jesus Christ, to the elder, the well belovedi \nwhom I most sincerely love in the truth ; mercy unto \nyou and yours, and peace and love be multiplied from \nGod the Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the \ndear Son of the Father, and our precious Redeemer. \n\n\" Your letter, fraught with most tender expressions \nof affection for one who truly feels himself less than \nthe least of all saints, and so richly instructive, came \nto hand on the 10th instant ; for which I have thanked, \nand do still thank the Lord, and my reverend father. \n\n\" Be assured, it gives me pleasure to devote a few \npassing moments to a correspondent I so highly prize \nas an experienced Christian, as a cordial friend, and \nas a master in Israel. \n\n\" I proceed to notice in order some of the particulars \nin your letter. For the affectionate regard which has \nled to the recital of my name in your domestic and so- \ncial circle, I am to be grateful to Him who causes his \nchildren to find favor in the sight of men. Oftentimes \ndoes it happen that even Christians hesitate to wel- \ncome the ransomed of the Lord with the cordiality \nwhich they should manifest, and particularly if they \nshould happen to bear a different name, \n\n\"You readily join with me in saying, these things \nought not so to be. And the loss which some have \nsustained through prejudice, ignorance and bigotry, is \nincalculable. ' Forget not to entertain strangers, for \nthereby some have entertained angels unawares.' \nTruly the badge of brotherly love should characterize \nall who bear the christian name. \n\n\" The eulogy you wrote upon my letter, the adver \nsary would gladly have used to excite a spirit of self- \nexaltation, which would only have procured my down \n\n\n\n116 MEMOIR OF \n\nfall ; but I had on the christian armor ; and the praise \nbelongs to the Captain of my salvation, who helped \nme so to wield the sword of the Spirit as to turn the vic- \ntory on the side of humility. Yes, instead of a means \nof producing self-complacency, it was the occasion of \nself-abasement, and of going out of myself and trust- \ning in the Lord as my wisdom, m^ light, my strength. \nThus I experienced the blessedness of enduring temp- \ntation ; and while the enemy was defeated, I was made \nto triumph. It is sufficient that the servant be as his \nLord. We need not expect freedom from temptation \ntill the earthly house of our tabernacle be dissolved. \nThen may we receive the crown of life, which the \nLord hath promised to them that love him. \n\n\" When you portrayed the feelings of a pious youth, \nyou described to an iota my state when I entered upon \nmy present course, and while prosecuting it till last \nfall. What a miserable week I spent after my arrival \nat Lawrenceville the first time ! My Latin Grammar \n— but you have had, doubtless, somewhat of the same \nexperience. I had come from an active life — I was \nenclosed within the walls of the academy with chil- \ndren — a long academical, collegiate, and theological \ncourse was before me — I was growing old, &c. This \ncombination of disagreeables, together with my desire \nto be out, conspired to render me disconsolate ; yet I \nwas thankful for the prospect. I would dwell longer \nupon this particular, but suffice it to say, I am now \ncontented to remain the appointed time — and I doubt \nnot I shall ever have reason to admire the train of \nprovidences which have been to me as 'a pillar of \ncloud by day, and a pillar of £re by night.' My foot \nhad well nigh slipped, but the Lord has held me up \nnnH established my goings. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 117 \n\n\"Your suggestions are well worthy o^ my freqUenl \nconsideration. THie object I have endeavored to keep \nin view, viz. the glory of God as it is connected with \nthe salvation of sinners. To this end I think I ha^re \ncoveted earnestly the best gifts, which I conceive to \nbe the spirit of prayer, the spirit of exhortation, and \nthe spirit of prophecy, that is, the gifts of preaching. \nI regard the Bible, the word of God, as the weapon \nwith which the minister is to do execution in the field \nof the enemy. Therefore it should be not only in his \nstudy and his pocket, but it should dwell ricJUy in his \nmemory and in his heart. Alas ! is it not lamentable \nthat a young divine should come out and attempt to \ninstruct the church with but little furniture from the \nBible 7 Classical and scientific knowledge are invalu- \nable auxiliaries, but to be destitute of Bible truth, a \nminister must be greatly confounded when he comes \nin contact even with those who are esteemed illiter^ \nate, but who have made the word of God their study \nand their guide. I lament that I am so much behind- \nhand in sacred literature. I long to be mighty in the \nScriptures, to have them deeply impressed upon my \nheart — and that believing, I may therefore speak — and \nso bring from the treasury of the Gospel things new \nand old. Paul says to his son Timothy, 'preach the \nword? It is the word which must and will do execu- \ntion ; for it is the power of God, and the wisdom of \nGod, to the sanation of the soul. \n\n\" Then I should, as you suggest, have a system oi \nthinking u\\)on theology. Doubtless you have v/itness- \ned many cases where candidates for the holy ministry \nhave neglected this important point. Probably they \nthought it a matter to be attended to in course. This \n\n\n\n118 MEMOIR OF \n\nhas been oo much the case with myself; I have read \nmore than I have thought: I have meditated plans, but \nwhen I look back and see how little proficiency I have \nmade, I am ashamed ; yet I do not think I have been \nidle. My time has been occupied. Is there not a de- \nfect in my system ? Do you ask what it is ? Upon my \nfirst arrival here, I saw the absolute necessity of hav- \ning for my motto, * a place for every thing, and every \nthing in its place.' As to importance, I considered the \nobjects demanding my attention in the following or- \nder : hours of devotion, time for acting, hours of study. \nFor sleep I appropriate about seven hours ; at present, \nand for the winter past, I have devoted eight hours to \nmy academical studies, which are sufficient for the re- \ncitations of the class ; will you please propose to me the \nbest distribution of the remaining nine hours'? For a \nsystem of theological thought, I have had in view, be- \nsides reading the Scriptures, our catechism with the \nproofs. Please express your mind fully on this point, \nfor I consider it of great importance ; and to facilitate \nmy course, I desire to come at every thing in the short- \nest and most practicable way. Many, for want of ju- \ndicious friends to advise, take a circuitous route, and \nperadventure, when they commence their theological \ncourse regularly, will have many things to unlearn, \n\n\" More and more do I feel the necessity of a fit and \nadequate preparation for the holy office — much, muchi \nvery much yet remains to be done — many a vacuum \nneeds to be filled. I would not daub with untemper- \ned mortar, but be thoroughly furnished — a workman \nthat needs not be ashamed, rightly dividing the whole \nword and work of truth — a polished shaft in the quiver \nof the Almighty. But what am H A worm, a crea- \n\n\n\nJAHE3 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 119 \n\nture of a day. May I not exclaim, who is sufficient \nfor these things ? But I do not despond. The Lord \nreigns, let the earth rejoice; let our souls be glad \nthereof. I may, or I may not, live to enter the vine- \nyard; about this I am not solicitous. My days are \nnumbered ; my destiny is fixed ; I would not alter it. \nInfinite wisdom is the directory I choose. I said I am \nnot solicitous. I would ever live, leaving the morrow \nto take thought for itself. The Lord of the vineyard \nknows the very laborers he designs for it. If I be one, \nhere am I, Lord, send me ; if not — Amen. 'Any thing \nor nothing, that God may be glorified and sinners sa- \nved. Bless the Lord, O our souls. \n\n\" I rejoice that you enjoy such nearness of access to \nthe throne of grace. Is it not the privilege of the Chris- \ntian to rejoice evermore, and to pray without ceasing, \nand in all things to give thanks ? Surely ; for it is the \nwill of God in Christ Jesus concerning him. And the \nmore childlike simplicity and godly sincerity, the more \nfree will be the intercourse between heaven and our \nsouls. \n\n\" My feelings of interest have been drawn out in an \n\nunusual degree towards the people in S . I feel as \n\nif it was the will of the Lord that I should make them \na visit. Why is this ? Let the Lord send by whom h« \nwill send — my prayer is, that he would grant them a \ngreat outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and that multi- \ntudes may be gathered into the fold of Christ. Help \nme to commit my cause to God, in whom I would \n* commence, continue, and end every work.' Make re- \nquest, if by any means, I may have a prosperous jour- \nney, by the will of God, to come unto you ; for I long \nto see you, that some spiritual blessing may be impart- \n\n\n\n180 MEMOIR qt \n\ned to us, to the end that we may be more and mora \nestablished, that is, that we may be comforted together \nby the mutual faith both of you and me. \n\n\" Since I wrote you last, I have enjoyed precious \nseasons in the closet ; have had the privilege of sitting \nat the communion table, and of a truth have fed on \nChrist by faith. It was a refreshing, blessed time ! \nWhen shall we eat bread and drink new wine in the \nupper kingdom ! I could say more, but will not with \nink and pen write unto thee ; but I trust I shall shortly \nsee thee fa^e to face. Peace be to thee. Farewell. The \nyounger in Christ Jesus salutes the elder. \n\n\" James B. Taylor.\" \n\nTo other members of the family he wrote in the \nsame interesting letter : — \" This is our working season, \nand what we would do for God, must indeed be done \nquickly. For our encouragement we have his assu- \nrance. My grace is sufficient for thee. Then, however \narduous our duties, however responsible our station^ if \nwe be faithful, God will be a present help in every \ntime of need. My heart's desire and prayer to God is, \nthat you may grow in grace, and in the knowledge of \nour Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. In reading the \nScriptures on the subject of prayer, I was ready to re* \nproach myself for so much remissness in this sacred \nduty. Alas ! how many hours have been lost in sleep, \nwhich should have been devoted to closet duties. How \nmuch has my soul lost by this sinful gratification of \nthe flesh ! Jesus arose long before day and sent his \nholy aspirations to his native heaven ! How often did \nhe retire to solitary places to raise his voice in suppli- \ncation ! His life was a life of prayer. He delighted in \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD tATLOB. 121 \n\nholding communion with his Father. See him in the \ngarden and on the cross ! If he prayed so constantly, \nhow much more jdo we need to be engaged in this duty ! \nBut Jesus still pleads, and must prevail. Let us then \ncommit our cause to him, as our advocate and inter- \ncessor.'* \n\nIt is delightful to observe how this dear disciple of \nour Lord Jesus Christ made him the aZp/ta and oviega, \nthe beginning and the ending of all that he did. \nThrough all his voluminous correspondence a sweet \nsavor of Christ is to be found in every page— almost \nin every line. His love to relatives and friends, and to \nall his fellow-creatures, appears to have^been sanctified, \nand elevated, and softened, and warmed by holy love \nto the blessed Redeemer. Christ was indeed his all. \nAnd it is to his constant and afiectionatc looking to \nChrist — his entire surrender of himself to Christ — his \nexclusive dependence upon Christ with child-like sim \nplicity — we are to ascribe the great peace which con- \nstantly pervaded his bosom, and the holy joys which \nfilled his heart, and the assurance of eternal life which \ncheered him under all the trials to which in the pro \nvidence of God he was subjected. \n\nAt every step of the delightful work of collecting \nand compiling his letters, new evidences of the fact. \nthat faith, and holy love, and elevated piety, and \nextraordinary devotedness mingled themselves with \nall Mr. Taylor's exercises, are constantly coming to \nlight. \n\nPerhaps a stronger exhibition may not be furnished \nthan is to be found in the followmg letter to his greatly \nbeloved parents : \n\nU J, B. Taylor. \n\n\n\n132 MEMOIR OF \n\n\" LawrenuvUUt April 6, 1833. \n** Belonrad ParenU. \n\n\" Beloved ! yes, in the best bonds, the bonds of \nour Lord Jesus Christ. Often have I held sweet com-' \nmunion with you in meditation and prayer. This \nevening I have enjoyed such a season. And while \nengaged in looking up for heaven's blessings to de- \nscend upon my dear father and mother, and upon \nthe happy family with which it is my privilege to be \nconnected, my own soul was watered. How delightful \nthe spirit of intercession, when the soul is warmed with \na flame of love towards those for whom we plead. In \nthis delightful exercise there is action and re-action, \nas I have experienced this night. The Lord gave me \na spirit of prayer fur you all, and my heart melted \nwithin me while I prayed. Love to God and love to \nman pervaded my soul. Doubtless you have been \nblessed with many such heavenly gales in praying for \nothers. May you ever have enlarged hearts when ad- \ndressing the throne of grace in behalf of your ever-af- \nfectionate James. And in answer to your prayers, may \nstreams from the heavenly fountain descend to water \nthe kingdom of God which is set up in my soul. I \nhave not, my dear parents, a more convincing eyidence \nof my natural life than I have of the spiritual life with- \nin me, it PEAOE, LOVE, and jot in the Holy Ghost, are \nevidences of one's acceptance with God ; for these are \nwithin me and abound. O what abundant cause I have \nto speak of the Lord's goodness to me. But my tongue \ncannot speak, much less can my pen describe the \nmarvelous loving-kindness of the Lord. O, he is good, \nand ' his mercy endureth for ever.' O that men would \npraise him for his wonderful works to the children of \n\n\n\nJAM£8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 123 \n\nmen. Since I left New-York I have had a fullness of \njoy and love indescribable. The windows of heaven \nhave been opened, and have poured down fatness. The \noil and wine of consolation have been freely imparted, \nand I have gone on from day to day praising the Lord. \nJesus alone is the source of my happiness. His pre- \nsence makes my paradise. Take Jesus from the Bible \nand the sinner's hope is gone. Take Jesus from the \nchild of Grod below, and this world would be a desert. \nTake him away in the hour of death, and all is dark- \nness and despair. Take him from heaven, and heaven \nwould be annihilated. Let Jesus, then, be our all. \nMay we walk as he walked, live near to him, and. ever \nfollow him withersoever he leadeth. As the good \nshepherd, he will lead us into the green pastures, and \nmake us to lie down beside the still waters. How rich \nhis provisions ! How refreshing to our souls ! Fore- \ntaste of heaven and endless felicity ! Lord, evermore \ngive us this food. I feel that I am a pilgrim, away \nfrom my home and from my Love, whom I can only \nsee by the eye of faith. But by and by — O welcome \nhour ! — my soul, and your souls too, will escape from \nthese tenements of clay, and wing their flight to hea- \nven and glory. And there we shall see him as he is. \nWho would not be there 7 \n\n< My Savior smiles, and bids me eome.* \n\n'^ Behold, my parents, what God hath wrought for \nyour son ! Once, he was an unrenewed sinner — a child \nof the devil — an heir of hell, and pressing on in the \nway to the bottomless pit. What a mercy that I am \nnot calling for a drop of water to cool my tongue in \nthat onextinguishable fire ! What grace, that I havf \n\n\n\n124 MEMOia OP \n\nbeen bom again — that I am a child of God and an bM? \nof life, traveling to the city of God — the new Jemaa- \nlem ! What shall we render to the Lord for his lore \nto me, his love to yon, his love to our hoasehold! \nWhat shall we render ? Our hearts— our whole undi- \nvided affections ! \n\n\" My beloved father ! the Comforter, which is the \nHoly Ghost, the promise of the Father, you have \nhad to dwell with you, and I doubt not he will remain \nin you. May you and my dear mother be built up in \nfaith and holiness — grow in grace, and in the know- \nledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ ; and so \nripen for heaven, and finally be gathered as shocks of \ncorn in their season. May I meet you there, where I \nexpect we shall meet and praise God for ever. \n\n\" My brothers F. and S. arrived last night. I re- \nceived by them your token of affection. We shall \nshare it together, with a thankful remembrance of that \nhand which has so often fed and nourished us in our \nchildhood. What pleasure would it give me to enjoy \na repast at your table! What pleasure to enjoy a \nspiritual feast around your family altar, and together \nin the closet ! \n\n\" How are my grandmothers 1 I hope the candle of \nthe Lord shines around them and in their souls, to light \nthem safe to the world of life and glory. \n\n\" How are our dear relatives ? O that they were all \non the Lord's side. May he convince the unconvinced, \nand convert the unconverted ones, and make those that \nlove him, like trees planted by the water-courses. Mf \nlove to them all. \n\n*^My health is good— my soul is happy — ^heaveii \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIKERD TAYLOR. 126 \n\nsmiles— Jesus is precious — God is my portion, and \nheaven my home'^farewell. \n\n\" Your affectionate son, \n\n\"James B. TAYtoiu» \n\nThe following extracts from two letters to a lady in \nthe city of New-York, then confined by a lingering \nand painful disease, which within a few weeks re* \nleased her from this world of sin and sorrow, will \nshow how kindly affectionate was Mr. Taylor towards \nthe afflicted, and how well qualified to administer con- \nsolation to the saints in their trials. \n\n** My dear Mrs. R. \n\n\" Shall I say that since I bade you farewell, expect- \ning never to meet yoa again in this vale of tears, my \nthoughts have often run back to your habitation ? Yes, \nmy sister, and they have as often dwelt upon your \nname and your situation with no ordinary emotions. \nHappy, thrice happy your lot; for all things are yours, \nwhether Paul, or ApoUos, or Cephas, or the world, or \nlife, or death, or things present, or things to come ; all \nare yours ; and you are Christ's, and Christ is God's. \n\n\" When last in New- York, I enjoyed the privilege \nof sitting beside your bed and holding sweet converse \nwith you. Now, though far removed, I can and do \nstill hold spiritual communion with you, and what I \nnow write I pray God to turn to your spiritual com- \nfort, and to the good of those connected with you. \n\n^ I said the intercourse I had with you was sweet. \nIndeed, whenever I left the chamber of affliction my \nsoul exulted in God. The Lord has blessed me while \ninterceding for you since. I have gained nearness of \naeces9 to him while complying with your request. \n\n11* \n\n\n\n126 MEMOIR OF \n\n^ Pray for me.' And doubtless you have rested under \nthe shadow of the Almighty with increasing delight, \nand found his banner over you to be love — that love \nwhich casteth out fear — fear of man, of death, of the \ngrave, of judgment, and of hell. Have not your pros- \npects brightened? Have you not seen by faith the \nland of everlasting righteousness ? Have you not 1 \nBut I stop — perhaps my sister has already passed away \nto her rest with the shout of victory, and received the \ncrown of life ! \n\n\" But my sister may be yet alive. It may still re- \nmain for her to suffer as well as do the will of Qod a \nlittle longer on earth. Do you not reply. Amen, * The \nwill of the Lord be done V If so, be assured the best \nis yet to come. God has great things in store for those \nwho think of him, delight in him, and acquiesce in his \nwill. Then count it all joy, that it is given you in be- \nhalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but to suffer \nfor his sake. ' He is not an high priest which cannot \nbe touched with a feeling of our infirmities, having \nbeen tempted in all points like as we are, yet without \nsin.' Are you tempted ? Are you tried ? Doubtless \nyou are still exercised with agonizing pain. Look to \nthe Lord—behold the Lamb of God who purchased \nyour present hope, your comfort, love, joy, peace, par- \ndon and future prospects. See Jesus in the manger-— \nin his life of labor and suffering. See him agonizing \nin the garden and dying on the cross, and say, \n\n* Rest— rest, my happy peaceful soul/ \nRest in thy blessed Savior's arms, \nTill all the billows o*er thee roll, \nTill life shall and with all its storms.* \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 127 \n\n''A few more days and your happy release shall \ncome. Your soul is now above ; your affection is on \nGod as your satisfying portion ; yet you pant for full \nenjoyment — yoi^r language is, 'Come, Lord Jesns, \ncome quickly.' Then fear not. Cast thy all upon the \nLord ; he is not far off— he will not tarry. He waits \nto be your rod and staiO^and O how strong his arm— > \nhe is mighty to save, even in the dying hour. How \nsweet to lean upon our beloved ! his voice is sweet \nand his countenance is comely. When your work is \ndone, Jesus will come. Do you ask, What have I to \ndo ? What can I do? Have you not to tell what Qod \nhath done for your soul ? To warn — to exhort some \nsinner to come to Christ. May you be faithful to Ckkl, to \nyourself, and to those around your sick and dying bed. \nThe Lord has chosen you in the furnace of affliction. \nThis may not be joyous for the present, but grievous ; \nbut be of good cheer, it will produce the peaceable \nfniits of righteousness. It has done this already. Grod \nhas sanctified this visitation to you, and to the salva- \ntion of your dear companion. Shall it stop here ? May \nit lead to the conviction and conversion of your whole \nhousehold, and of all who shall witness the grace of \nQod as already displayed. \n\n'* A word to your sisters. When will you, my dear \nfellow-travelers to the grave — to the bar of Grod — to \neternity, prepare for these awful scenes ? Are you yet \nin your sins? What — and exposed to the shafts of \ndeath which fly so thick around you? Why will ye \ndie — die the death eternal? Need you? There yet is \nroom — ^room in the love of Grod, room in the heart of \nthe suffering, dying Savior. Come, then, and have \nyour sins washed away — come and be made the happy \n\n\n\n128 MEMOIR OP \n\nrecipients of grace and love divine — now — now. Stay \nno longer at a distance. We are hastening to the tomh, \nand aQon our destiny will be unalterably fixed. I \nwould rejoice to meet you at the right hand of the \nJudge. Will you not prepare to meet Cxod in peace ? \nAll things are ready on his part; are you ready to give \nyourselves unalterably away to Christ ? Then come — \ncome without delay, with all your sins, with all your \nburdens come to the Friend of sinners, and he will \nmake you whole. His call to yoa is, ' Turn ye, turn \nye.' ' He that believeth shall be saved ; he that believ- \neth not shall be damned.* \n\n'^ Mr. R., you need, and I trust you find, the support- \ningiiand of our heavenly Father. You have reason to \nsing of mercy while you talk of the judgments of Gk>d. \nBe passive in his hands. Shall not the Judge of all the \nearth do right ? And he is your friend, cleave to him \n— ' the afflictions of the righteous are many, but the \nLord delivereth him out of them all.' Hope for t|ie \nbest ; prepare for the worst ; the heaviest trials are \nfrom the hand of a Father. The cup that he adminis- \nters, shall we not drink it ? Soon shall our crosses \ngive place to a crown ; shall we be counted worthy to \nwear it at the feet of Jesus ? \n\n\" I have enjoyed this day sweet hopes of hearea*. \nThe Lord is good to me, and my cup often runs OTfr# \nMay your prospects brighten continually. O let us \nstrive to be uncommon — that is, eminently piottS| de» \nvoted Christians. As we go out and come in, at all \ntimes, under all circumstances, let us make it mani- \nfest that we are for Cxod. It vnll coat us somethinf^ \nbut the more we sacrifice and expend for him, the mora \nwill our consolation abound.\" \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 129 \n\n•* LawrcTiceviUCf May 9, 1823. \n* My dear Mrs. R. \n\n\" Little did I think when I addressed you last, that \nyou would have survived until thm time. Do you in- \nquire, why is it so? Secret things belong to God, but \nthings revealed, to us ; and what we know not now, \nwe shall know hereafter. \n\n\" The Lord works in a mysterious way to execute \nhis purposes of mercy towards the children of men. \nIn bringing some to the acknowledging of the truth, \nhe chooses them in the furnace of affliction. Thus has \nit been with you and your beloved companion. As an \nexample of patience to others, he oftentimes con- \ntinues the rod of affliction upon the afflicted one, yet \nit is with the promise, ' My grace is sufficient for thee.' \nBe, then, of good courage ; Jesus has gone before \nyou ; he has suffered cruel tortures — he died an igno- \nminious death; he entered the grave — but he arose \ntriumphantly — and now is our elder Brother, at the \nright hand of the Majesty on high. Would you not \nfollow him? Yes, you reply ; follow the Lamb whither- \nsoever he goeth. Shrink not then from pain ; fear not \nthe swellings of Jordan — the silence of the grave; \n^ for the sting of death is sin,' and when this is extracted \nthrough justification, and sanctification from sin, death \ncannot hurt you, and I believe will not frighten you. \nNo; it is not the child of God — it is not the heir of hea- \nTen that will start back from entering his eternal home; \nbut the child of the devil and the heir of hell that \nmust be alarmed and in despair. O, the joy and bliss \nof dying a Christian. The portals of Paradise are then \nnot only seen, but thrown wide open, that an heir of \nglory may enter in. Who would not die the death of \n\n\n\n130 MEMOIR OF \n\nthe Christian? And we know that the life of tht* \nChristian alone is attended with peace and joy. \n\n\" While you are absent from your Father's house- \nwhile you remain a i^lgrim here below — may you hare \nmuch of heaven in your soul. I have longed to see \nyour face once more; but farewell; I hope to meet \nyou at the right hand of God — I hope to hail your hap- \npy spirit in the heavenly Canaan, and there join with \nyou in singing the song of everlasting deliverance. \n\n\" Since I wrote you, the Lord has been very gra- \ncious to me — I have enjoyed precious seasons. How \ngood it is to draw near to the mercy seat ! Then it is \nthat our souls cry out, ' Lord, evermore give us this \nbread.' I am unworthy — I am nothing — ^Jesus is all — \nhe is the beloved of our souls. May he ever be the \nchiefest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely. \n\n\" Next Lord's day I expect to enjoy the privilege ot \nwitnessing to the world that I have chosen him for my \nall. It will be a communion season with us. Soon we \nshall eat bread in the upper kingdom. Prayer will be \nturned into praise, faith into vision, and ordinances \ninto the enjoyment of his presence face to face, whom \nwe now remember. \n\n\"Mr. R., lean upon the Lord : he says, 'I will not \nforsake thee.' The language of your dear companion \nis, ' Weep not for me, the separation may be soon, but \ncannot be long. We are all travelers to another \nworld, and must soon be there. 91 \n\n\" With much affection^ yclhrs, \n\nJaiies B. Taylor.** \n\nReference has been already made to the fragt^ti \nof a diary found amon^ Mr. Taylor's papera . It is ia \n\n\n\nJAMES B&AIMERO TAYLOR. 131 \n\nwhat a Christian writes of himself, his exercisea^ \ntrials, and the means employed to keep alive the flame \nof holy love in his heart — especially when it is design* \ned exclusively for his own inspection, and written un- \nder the eye of God, and with a deep sense of his pre- \nsence, that we find a true and faithful exhibition of the \ninner man. Such was the diary of Mr. Taylor, and in- \ndeed there is no evidence that he ever wished or thought \nof the publication of either his journal or of the cor< \nrespondence, so full of the effusions of a most affection- \nate and pious heart, from which the materials for this \nmemoir are chiefly derived. \n\nIc is a matter of regret that twelve of the earliest \nnumbers of Mr. Taylor's Diary cannot be found. There \nare five remaining, beginning with No. 13, which bears \ndate the 1st of May, 1823. The first notice is of paii^ \nand of its being sanctified : \n\n'< This morning 1 was visited with a sciatic, which \nrendered it difi&cult for me to move. But the Lord or- \ndered it for good, for it had a tendency to lead me to \nhimself, and I enjoyed a foretaste of heaven. I mused, \nand the fire burned ; my soul was caught up from \nearth, and the portals of paradise and the blessed re- \nsidence of the saints were opened to the eye of faith. \n\n* When shall I wake and find me there 7' \n\n* Wrote this day to Miss W. May the Lord fol- \nlow my communications with his peculiar blessing. I \nfound when in New- York that my letters had not \nbeen in vain, but had comforted some and stirred up \nothers.\" \n\n\n\n132 M£MOia OF \n\nThere is evidence that this very letter was also much \nblessed to souls. We make the following extracts : \n\n\" Do you ask how I enjoyed myself while in New- \nYork ? With some of the dear children of God I had \nsweet communion. But, alas ! with how many of those \nwho profess religion, and cry, Lord, Lord, yet do not \nthe things which he commands, did I meet ! Was their \nconversation in heaven ? No ! Were their hearts there? \nNo ! for they dwelt upon things of earth. Out of the \nabundance of the heart the mouth speaketh: their \ntheme was not the goodness of God — not the love of \nGod in their own hearts, and as manifested to others; \nbut fine houses, handsome furniture, fashionable dress- \nes, beautiful forms, riches, pleasures, and such like ; \nand as a matter of little moment, they talk of this min- \nister as an eloquent orator ; that as a line writer ; and \na third as indifferent. True, the business of the world \nought to be attended to in its season, but for a pro- \nfessor of the name of Jesus, or any other person, to \ndwell upon these things continually and with delight, \nindicates such a one to be under blindness of mind, \nhardness of heart, and contempt for the word of God. \n\n\" Of conversation the jp^postle saith, * As he which \nhath called you is holy, so he ye holy in all manner ot \nconversation ; because it is written. Be ye holy, for I \nam holy.' And we nave the assurance that without \nholiness no man, no woman, let his or her name be \nwhat it may — their possessions, nay, their professions, \nwhat they may, * shall see the Lord.' What a re- \nquirement ! how great ! but nothing is impossible with \nGod, and with him there is plenteous redemption. \n\n^' But to return : they are not without a hardened \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TATLOR. 133 \n\nheart. Their convictions are lulled to sleep, if not en- \ntirely expelled, by the sentiment, ' We must be some- \nwhat conformed to the world.' Others say, * We \nmust mix with the multitude.' For the former no ex- \ncuse can be allowed — the Bible allows none — the \nworld will not — their profession will not. ' Thus saith \nthe Lord,' should silence every excuse and quell every \nrising emotion of world liness. And what docs the \nLord say ? * Be not conformed to this world.' What \nis this but an axe laid at the root of every worldly \nthought, desire, and action which are not subservient \nto our growth in grace and the advancement of Christ's \nkingdom in the earth? As to the latter, it is obvious \nthat we must, in some degree, mix with the multitude , \nbut does this make it necessary that we must be par \ntakers of their sins ? No, nor of their follies, which \nare sins. Christ's prayer for his disciples is, ' Keep \nthem from the evil ;' but those that I describe hold the \nword of God in contempt, for they disobey its com- \nmands, which are holy, just, and good. They mani- \nfest that they love the world, and the things of it, in- \nordinately. The word of God says. Come out from \namong them, and be ye separate ; and touch not the \nunclean thing. Out of their own mouths they are con- \ndemned. O ! these things ought not to be so — may \nour garments be kept clean and unspotted from the \nworld. With those who mind earthly things the child \nof God can have little enjoyment. May the Lord arouse \nby his Spirit and his word, all lukewarm and worldly- \nminded Christians — if indeed there be such a com- \npound as a worldly-minded Christian, \n\n** You will not think me an egotist, for I comply \nwith your request, when I write of the Lord's deal- \n\n12 J- B. Taylor. \n\n\n\n134 MEMOIR OP \n\nings with myself. The day on which I bade you fare- \nwell, was commemorative of the most eventful era of \nmy existence. You readily recur to the 23d April, ore \nyear ago. From the circumstances attending me that \nday, traveling, dec. I enjoyed but little opportunity for \nretirement. How gratefully did I hail my habitation ; \nfor the Lord had protected and brought me safe to my \nresting-place. I made the field, screened with woods, \nmy closet, where I could address my Father in secret. \nHow many, driven from home for the name of Jesus, \nhave sought shelter in the woods, with the vaulted \nheavens for their covering, and there, as well as in \ndens and caves of the earth, poured out their souls be \nfore the Lord, who hears when his children cry. \n\n\" Shall I transcribe what I recorded of the Lord's \ngoodness to me the day after my arrival ? \n\n\" * April 24. — Had a most precious season at the \nthrone of grace. How often has the Lord blessed me in \nthat very spot ! It appears sacred. My soul was melted \nthis evening. My spirit cried, Abba, Father. Jesus, \nthough unseen by mortal eye, was precious, as seen \nby the eye of faith. The oil and wine of consolation \nwere poured into my soul — had a spirit of interces- \nsion for my dear friends.' \n\n\" * Sabbath following. — What shall I render to the \nLord for all his benefits ? My cup has this day run \nover. My consolation has abounded. The good Shep- \nherd has led me into green pastures, and I have fed \nupon the rich foretastes of heaven. I have found my \npowers too feeble to praise and bless the God of my \nsalvation as I would, and could only say, Glory to \nGod! Glory to my dear Savior! Halleluiah to the \nLamb for ever ! O how sweet I have found it to ctU \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAtNERD TAYLOR. 13S \n\nupon God in secret ! It is not to be described, as you \nknow, if you have felt the refining flame of God's love ; \nbut it is ' iull of is^loiy.' Perfect love filled, and now \nfills my soul. 1 have wept tears of joy and gratitude, \nand tears of praise, at the feet of Jesus. I have called \nGod my Father, with the spirit of adoption. Truly \ntlie Comforter has come, and I long to depart and be \nwith Christ. How small, how vain the world ap- \npears ! Alas ! that any should seek their happiness \nhere ! O could they feel what I experience, the world \nwould wane and dwindle into nothings But why was \nI made to hear his voice and enter in ? Why was it — \nLord, why was it I ? My heart melted again and again, \nand floods of tears flowed gently down. How delight- \nful such an exercise? What an antepast of heaven, \nwhen the soul holds converse with God ! While en- \ngaged in singing in the family, the Lord drew near, \nand my heart began to burn with love. I then retired \nto my sacred retreat, and poured out my soul before \nhim. Ah, how foolish is such language as this to the \npoor worldling, the gay, the thoughtless ! But the \nchild of grace, the renovated soul alone knows the \njoys of pardoned sin. * I had rather be a door-keeper \nin the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of \nwickedness.' I had an aflecting view of my utter un- \nworthiness ; and truly I am a wonder to myself — ' a \nmiracle of grace.' By the grace of God I am what I \nam ; a sinner saved by grace ; a sinner changed by the \nSpirit ; a sinner accepted of God, through Christ, and \ntending towards heaven, and longing to be there! \nWere it the will of Grod, this night would I go ; yet I \nam willing to stay, and suffer, and do the will of God. \nI hare given, and now give myself away to him ; I am \n\n\n\n136 MEMOU OP \n\nnot my own ; I have been bought with a price. Jesus, \nbe thoa my all ; be thou King supreme. Reign without \na rival. Sway thy sceptre universally. Rule for ever, \nKing of kings, and Lord of lords. Amen.' \n\n*^ The above is an account of my exercises for two \ndays. This day has the Lord given me a memento oi \nmy mortality. This morning I was seized with a pain, \nwhich renders it difficult for me to move. * We bloom \nto-day, to-morrow die.' But the Lord meant it for good, \nand I have reason to thank him for his token of love. \n^ What son hath he whom he chasteneth not ?' I have \ntaken a view of the grave — of the bar of God, and hea- \nven — and ray desire was to launch away — yet I sub- \nmit and wait. I see nothing here to live for, but to \nspend and be spent for God ; and no longer than I may \nbe useful would I remain here below. O when shall \nwe hear the sound, * Come up higher.' \n\n\" This being the first of May, I presume you have \nbeen in the midst of bustle and confusion, yet doubt- \nless you have been in perfect peace. This is the ex- \ncellency of religion — that while the spirits of darkness \nrage, and wicked men blaspheme — while the world \nseek the pleasures of sense, yet never find any thing \nto slake their thirst — while the vain love themselves \nand follow the vanities of the earth — while they are \ndisappointed in life, wretched in death, and lost for \never, the meek and humble followers of the Lamb find \npeace and quietude of soul below — peace or triumph \nin death, and God and heaven for ever. \n\n\" Take your pleasures then, ye worldlings — enjoy \nthe gayeties of life, ye vain spendthrifts of time — trifle \nwith your souls — dance on the brink of ruin — sell your \nall for nought, and forfeit heaven at last. But let me \n\n\n\nJAHB9 BRAINEAD TAYLOR. 137 \n\nlive the life and die the death of the righteous ; for \nthe righteous, the righteous alone have hope in deaths \nFarewell. \n\n'^ Yours in the best of bonds, \n\n\"J. B.Taylor. » \n\n' P. S. I wished to say something to Miss M— \nupon this all-important subject. I hope she views it \nas all-important. But however she may admit its im- \nportance,, it will avail her nothing unless she feel its \npower in her own soul. This must be experienced, or \nshe must be lost for ever. \n\n*' To the young ladies too I would say, hear the \nwords of Jesus Christ ; ' Except ye repent, ye shall all \nlikewise perish.' J. B. T.\" \n\nWe return again to the interesting diary from which \nwe began to make some extracts. \n\n'^ May 3, 1823. — Had a delightful communion sea- \nson at my stated evening devotion ; and found much \npleasure in reading the Word, and in calling upon the \nname of the Lord. \n\n\" Sabbath, May 4. — Another Christian Sabbath has \ndawned upon this world, which, but for religion, would \nbe a heU, and its inhabitants incarnate devils. \n\n'* The Sabbath shed forth its cheering light, but the \nLord of the Sabbath hid his face from me. Why is \nthis 1 He knows the reason ; and so do I. My guide \nhas been forsaken, I have broken my covenant with \nhim, and the consequence is, my soul is in darkness \nand distress. Surely 'the way of transgressors is \nhard,' and peculiarly so to the child of God, who has \nnot only tasted that he is gracious, but has been filled \n\n12* \n\n\n\n138 MEaioiB or \n\nwith his perfect love. Morning daties weie attended \nto as usual, but the glory had departed. The form was \nthere, but where was the power 1 My soul had by \ntransgression left its rest, and leanness, the inevitable \nconsequence of a departure from God, was inscribed \nupon it. I sought the Lord, but found him not to the \nsatisfying of my soul. I repaired to the house of God, \nbut my love was absent. Returning home, I felt dissa- \ntisfied with my situation, and refused to be comforted, \nbut by the Holy Ghost. O how keen the anguish, * My \nGod to love, and not my God alone? How keen the \nreproach of ingratitude, in forsaking my best friend. \nThanks to the Lord that I felt my need and saw the \nremedy, and that I had the disposition to return to him \nfrom whom I had revolted. I wished to wander no fur- \nther. My soul thirsted for God. I could praise him for \nwhat he had done for me — I felt that he was jiiat in \nwithdrawing from me, and that were I in hell I could \nbut praise him. I looked to him for direction as I opened \nhis blessed word, and he answered my prayer. I opened, \nI read, ^ So fight I, not as one that beateth the air ; but \nI keep under my body and bring it into subjection, lest \nthat by any means, when I have preached to others, I \nmyself should be a cast-away.' The Word was sea- \nsonable ; I had not kept my body under ; it enabled me \nto have right views of myself. I hastened to the throne \nof grace, and found it good. The Lord dispensed his \nfavor, and shed abroad his love in my heart. Thanks \nto his name for pardon and sanctification ! O, why was \nI not left to hardness of heart ? Not unto me, but unto \nthe Lord belongeth praise ; for he bringeth salvation. \nAgain I looked up to the Lord, and again opened and \nread hia blessed word : ' Be stxong ^i^id. oi ^ood. cou- \n\n\n\nJABIB8 nUOIfilB TATLOR. 139 \n\nrage ; I will be with thee: I will not fail thee nor for- \nsake thee : only be thoa strong and very courageous.' \nMay my care and fear evermore be this, not to do any \nONE thing displeasing to my God ; and he will take \ncare of all the rest. \n\n*^May 12. — Had a delightful season at the throne of \ngrace, both in prayer and in reading the Scriptures. \nThe Word is spirit and life — Lord, open my mind \nmore and more to understand the Scriptures — ^make \nme mighty in the Scriptures. \n\n\"May 29.-^ Wrote to Sarah, my colored friend.\" \n\nFrom this letter we make the following extract, as \na specimen of the affectionate spirit of Mr. Taylor, ma- \nnifested towards the children of God, of whatever co- \nlor or condition. \n\n\" How is Aunt Sarah ? Perhaps her mortal frame \nis sinking under the weight of old age, and ready to \nfall a prey to death — doubtless you look to the day of \nyour death as better than the day of your birth. You \nwill hail the hour of your departure as a release from \nyour burdens and sorrows, when your happy spirit \nshall wing its way to the paradise of God. Does not \nyour soul exult in the prospect? The New Jerusalem \nis just before you — that city that hath foundations. It \nis the home of the saints. There dwells our Savior ; \nthere you will see him as he is ; and there meet the \nredeemed of the Lord out of every nation, and king- \ndom, and tongue, and people. Do you expect to meet \nme there ? I know you do—and I hope to find some \nhumble place at the feet of my blessed Redeetnftt« i \nhave nheady the eamest of the heaveiiVi i^^x^-'^Tva \n\n\n\n140 Muioa or \n\nthat I may enjoy yet more and moiOi uid so groir op \ninto Christ our living head. While yoa shall be praia- \ning God in glory, I may be soanding the (Gospel timn- \npet. Pray that it may be to the awakening of many a \npoor sinner, and the means of gathering multitudes of \nprecious souls into the kingdom of God's dear Son. \n\n\" The prospect of living to serve the Lord in his \nvineyard is pleasant, if it be his will. To die, I know \nwould be gain ; but I am not anxious. The Lord, whose \nI am, knows that I am his, by creation, by the pur- \nchase of the blood of Jesus, by the sanctification of his \nSpirit. To the Lord Jesus, as to a faithful Creator, \nwould I commit my cUl; come sickness or health, life \nor death, all, all will be well $ not my will, but the \nwill of the Lord be done.\". \n\nIn the following letter to a much valued friend, bear- \ning date LawrenceviUe, June 7, 1823, will be found \nsentiments and an expression of affections well wor- \nthy the serious consideration of all who are in the mi- \nnistry, or who are seeking this most responsible office. \n\n'* The past wears an aspect to me truly astonishing. \nMy long course of iniquity before conversion — four- \nteen years spent in folly and in sin — my early impres- \nsions when compared with the multitude who throng \nthe downward road — ^my being led to the Lamb of \nQod ^that taketh away the sin of the world,' and \nmade a happy partaker of grace and love divine — ^my \nbeing called of the Lord of the harvest to preach the \nGospel, or rather to prepare for it — how wonderful I \nI know not, indeed, that he will put me into the minis- \nitfr^ but ' re the prospect ot beiui^ taSKKiiit»fa. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINtRD TAYLOR. 141 \n\nrendering an imperfect service below, to a perfect ser- \nvice in the upper sanctuary. \n\n\" I look upon my residence in New- York as highly \nbeneficial. There I gained a fund of information, to be \ngained only in such a situation. Little did I think that \nI was then acquiring a knowledge of men and man- \nners to fit me better for the sacred office. \n\n\" Do you ask how I am affected towards my former \nemployment? Never since I left it have I felt any \ndesire to return. My aversion to every thing of this \nkind has increased, and my mind would sicken at the \nthought of ever returning to the business of this world. \nI rejoice in the indisposition to attend to any thing \nthat is not intimately connected with my calling. \n\n\" It is to be feared that some (alas t for them) com- \nmence stuay for the holy ministry from sinister mo- \ntives. Some seek worldly emolument — some popular \napplause — others, and we hope these are the majority, \nseek souls for their hire. Says a correspondent, writ- \ning of a candidate for the ministry, * He has by his \neducation become a different man, and has a different \nkind of piety, and time must develope whether it is \nfor the better or the worse.' How sad, how melan- \ncholy, that any of the sons of Levi should grow cold \nin the service of the church of Christ. How afflicting \nto the lover of Zion to witness engagedness in any \nChristian decline ; but particularly to see a candidate \nfor the ministry lose his ardent zeal for the good of \nsouls. But Met him that thinketh he standeth take \nheed lest he fall.' Of this I have been mindful, and I \nwould ever keep it in mind ; nor would I be puffed up, \nor vain-glorious, that the good Shepherd bAXViV^^me \ninio his green pastareB, and fed me^ aad maA& xca ^A \n\n\n\n148 MSMon or \n\nHe down by the still waters ; for who maketh me Id \ndiffer from the impenitent, the thoughtless, the hard- \nened, and incorrigible 1 And what have I, that I have \nnot received from him, who givetb liberally and np- \nbraideth not ? 'Tis all of grace, and to God only wise \nbe all the glory. \n\n'' I apprehended danger npon entering on my acade- \nmical course, from the many snares attendant upon \nsuch a life. I dreaded the thought of becoming a for- \nmalist. The plan which I then considered best for a \nstudent with prospects like mine — nay, whatever may \nbe his prospects, (and I am confirmed in my opinion,) \nis, t. Strictly and most puncttially to perform his \ncloset duties. 2. He should exercise regularly for the \nbenefit of his body. This will aid him in the first, and \nbetter prepare him for entering upon prosecuting the \n3d. — viz. diligent application to his studies. Bat the \nLord has been better, a thousand times better than all \nmy fears. Instead of declining, my march has been \nonward in the divine life. Were I to attempt a narra- \ntion, it would be impossible for me to tell you even \nthe half. Suffice it to say, I have had, during the last \nthirteen months, the witnessing of God's Spirit with \nmine that I am born from above, and traveling to hea- \nven. The fruit of the Spirit has been, from day to day, \nlove, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. \n\n\"The prospect to me is pleasant. I glory in the \nthought of one day becoming an ambassador of the \nLord Jesus Christ to dying men. Paul was an ambas- \nsador in bonds. What a privilege to die for the Lord \nJesus ! I said I glory, but not in my own strength^ for \nmy sufficiency is of God: yet while I glory in the pros- \n> Dot anxious. I do conftideT m>)%^\\l tlqxtd:^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOB. 148 \n\nown ; I have been bought with a price ; I am the Lord's, \nto be dealt with agreeably to his will. My times and \nseasons, health and faculties, talents and influence, \nlife and death, all are in his hands. He hath done all \nthings well. And my language is, 'reign in me, over \nme ; reign universally. King of kings, and Lord of all.' \n\" Years must revolve before my fathers in the church \nwill send me forth. But they are ministering as stew- \nards in the house of God. When sent forth, may I \nhear the voice of the great Head of the church saying \nto me, * Go.' Then onward will be my watchword ; \nonward, to warn the sinner to flee from the wrath to \ncome ; onward, to lead the anxious inquirer to the sin** \nner's friend ; onward, to feed the lambs and sheep of \nChrist's flock ; to visit the sick and afflicted ; to smooth \nthe declining path of the aged ; to guide the young ; \nto refresh the weary ; to illumine, if possible, by con- \nversation and prayer, the vale of death : onward, to \nlive to and for God; to finish my course with joy: \nonward, to the grave ; to the bar of God 5 to glory.\" \n\nThe reader cannot have failed to notice the high- \ntoned and devoted piety of Mr. Taylor, as manifested \nin all his correspondence, and may well inquire by \nwhat means he made such attainments in spirituality. \nTo this question the answer is perfectly obvious : reli- \ngion with him was no secondary interest, but the one \nthing needful — the absorbing subject of his thoughts \nand affections ; and with great constancy did he prac- \ntice its duties, and especially those which bring the \nsouls of God's people more immediatefiy into his pre- \nsence, such as secret prayer, meditation, an^ xe^^vct^ \nthe Scriptures, These seemed tobetVve'^eT^ ^Vixcia^sAs^ \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n144 MESIOIH OP \n\nof his being, and to afford the fuel that kept alire the \nfire of holy love in his heart. Not only in the forego- \ning letter, but in all hid correspondence, and every- \nwhere in his diary, it is evident that he made commu- \nnion with God his first object, nor could he be 3atii»- \nfied without its actual enjoyment ; so that whenever, \nthrough inattention to the state of his heart, the pre- \nvalence of temptation, or the derangement of the ani- \nmal economy, he found not ^ him whom his soul lov- \ned,* he rested not till the joy of God's salvation was \nrestored, and be could again say, ' My beloved is mine, \nand I am his.' \" \n\nWhat in this respect Mr. Taylor practiced himself, \nhe affectionately recommended to his friends, as may \nbe seen in many parts of his most pious and affec- \ntionate letters. To his beloved friend, the Rev. C. H. \nhe wrote, June 22, 182? \n\n\n\n^«> . \n\n\n\n\" A siuied time, a particular place, and ptinctu • \nality, I find necessary to keep up the life and power \nof religion in the soul. To attend to the duties pf the \ncloset, an ancient disciple said to his company as an \nexcuse for leaving them, * I have a friend now in wait- \ning to speak with me.' Intrusion upon the hours set \napart for God cannot fail to make serious inroads upon \nthe health of the spiritual man. Let us, my friend, be \npunctual with God.\" \n\nTt is appropriate to remark in this connection, thai \n\nMr. Taylor sought and enjoyed this high state of pious \n\naffection and constant communion with God, not as a \n\nduty, but a delightful privilege ; not merely for bis \n\ni^fvjj sake, but for the bene&t of oOcieYs, o^iekd. %<& «i vftoai \n\n\n\nJAMES BRA1NERD TATLOR. 145 \n\n(mportant part of his preparation for the ministry of \nthe Gospel ; nor did he ever lose sight of the great \nwork in which he so ardently desired to be employed. \nIn a letter to a much esteemed brother, bearing date \n29th June, 1823, on his being appointed to the office of \ndeacon iu the church, he wrote : \n\n\"I trust you accepted this office, not merely as call- \ned by the church, but by the great Head of the church. \nit is the consciousness of moving in the sphere to \nwhich Gxxl C€U(8, that makes his servant patient and \npersevering, and affords the delightful testimony to \nhimself, that he pleases God. This is an office in \nwhich Jesus himself ministered. How careful was he \nthat the wants of the poor should be supplied. He \nsent none empty away, although he himself was often- \ntimes hungry, and thirsty, and weary, and heavy \nladen ; weary in traversing the country on foot, and \nheavy laden in bearing a burden not his own. O my \nbrother, what a privilege to follow in the footsteps of \nliltnmanucl, God with us. Do you not feel that you \nliave much to do? We are looked upon as those who \nmust enforce precept by holy example. The church \nand the world have their eyes upon us. God requires \nus to be faithful. Our happiness depends upon it. Per- \nil aps the comfort, the salvation of others depend upon \nit. May it then be our study to be mighty in the Scrip- \ntures — full of faith and the Holy Ghost. That we may \nbe properly qualified for our stations, how much prayei* \nand watchfulness on our part — how much grace on \nGod's part — is necessary ! Lord help, for vain is the \nhelp of man. \n\n\" To what I am destined I cannot teW. tvot wxv. \\ \n\n12 J. ft.Ta^Aot \n\n\n\n146 MEMOIR OP \n\nanxious. I am blest with contentment while the con- \nviction abides with me that it is my duty to prepare, if \npossible, for any station m the church, and then to ac- \ncept of that to which Providence shall call me. My \nviews are changed wholly from what they were for a \nshort time. I am very deeply impressed with the ne- \ncessity of a thorough /t^ZZ course of preparation. The \nLord has done great and good things for me, whereof \nI am glad.\" \n\nDiary. \"July 4, 1823. — The Lord is as strangely \ngood as I am in practice strangely perverse; yet I \nsometimes think I am the happiest creature on earth. \nBut why am I thus ? Never do I feel myself more in- \nsignificant and mean than when I am blessed with an \noverpowering sense of the divine presence ; and yel \nwith strong confidence do I approach my heavenly Fa- \nther. I do not, cannot doubt my being a son of faithful \nAbraham, and therefore a child of promise. Not unto \nme be praise, but to him who hath procured it for me, \nand blessed me with this adoption. \n\n\" 5. — Had a precious season before the throne of \ngrace this morning. O the hidden mystery — 'tis hid- \nden from the world. Surely the sweetest moments \nenjoyed by the children of Grod are when the world \nis entirely shut out. Could the world know this; \ncould they have one glimpse of the light that beams \nupon the souls of the saiiits ; could they enjoy the \nhope which the ilame of divine love kindles in the \nheart that trusts in Christ, they would be constrained \nto call him * the pearl of great price.' O the heaven \nof Jove I This evening, too, I am astonished at the \ngoodness of the Lord 3 1 amawondw xo vsv^^^Xl -vVtaw \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 147 \n\nI look at former years; my cup runneth over — my \nheart is too full for utterance ; but the Lord knoweth \nits meaning. Went after meeting to meditate among \nthe tombs. It was starlight, but yet the darkness was \nsufficient to screen me from the view of passing stran- \ngers. In this land of silence all was solemn as death. \nAnd there, on the marble slab that covers the remains \nof a young man who died at the age of eighteen, I sat \ndown and meditated upon my own dissolution. I look- \ned at my feet, my hands, my body ; and must these \nsoon be mouldering in the dust 1 I recoiled not at the \nprospect ; I praised the Lord for his love to me, and \nfor the calm serenity of soul I possessed. My mind \nwas now led to our dear family. While whole fami- \nlies have been desolated, ours remain entire. What \na mercy that they have been spared, and that nine of \nthem are hopefully pious ! Here my soul cried to God \nin behalf of all. I knew not but some of them might \nbe dead, and the tidings on the way. Would I have \nthem mourn at my departure ? Would they keep me \nfrom home ? And should I wish them to stay were it \nthe will of the Master to come and call for them ? \nNo, I replied, although it would be a great trial to bid \nthem farewell — to see them no more on the earth. \n\n\"I looked at what was before me — the work in \nwhich I long to be engaged, and prayed for wisdom \nto direct and grace to help. And now I retire. Come, \nsweet repose ; come life, come death, come what will, \nthe will of the Lord be done. \n\n\"6. Sabbath evening. — What shall I render to the \nLord for his goodness this day ? Words fail : * 'tis un- \nspeakable and full of glory.' O the sweet coxiytcvwwV- \ncatioos of grace and love I He has foWowed rcv^i wvxV \n\n\n\n148 MBMOIR OP \n\nhis loYing-kindness. I felt deeply the import of these \nprecious truths : ^ In whom ye also trusted, after that \nye heard the word of truth, the Gospel of your salva- \ntion ', in whom also, after that ye believed, ye were \nSEALED with the Holy Spirit of promise, which is the \nearnest of our inheritance.' I douht not I have expe- \nrienced all this ; I feel that I have been ''sealed? The \nsweet ^ earnest ' pervades my inmost soul, and all is \nheaven there. Hoav precious is Jesus ! It is he that \ncharms and comforts my heart. I hear men talk of the \nworks of creation, of lofty mountains and pleasant \nvales, of verdant plains, of foaming^ cataracts and gen- \ntle rills, the sturdy oak and the forests green, the fra- \ngrant flowers and the standing corn ; I hear them talk \nof fine houses, handsome furniture, grand equipage and \nroyal splendor; and a thousand other things which \nthey seem to admire almost to adoration. But these \nare not my God. The heavens indeed declare the glory \nof God ; the firmament showeth his handiwork ; all \nnature is stamped with Deity. But what are these ? \nOne glimpse of thee, my dearest Lord, one glimpse ot \nthee, as seen in the Gospel, outshines them all ; and \nwhen chou art near, my soul rises above all sublunary \nthings. Thou art ray satisfying portion. To-day hare \nI been on Pisgah's top, and seen the promised land. \nNot long, and I shall rise higher. O blessed prospect » \nNow I go again to meditate among the tombs — I love \nsuch a retreat — to look into my heart — into the grave — \ninto eternity. How solemn is this place ! Death with \nhis iron grasp has dragged down his hundreds to this \nlield of graves. The young, the old, the middle-aged,* \nlie promiscuous here; the rich, the poor, the white, tlie \n>'/^\"^'^ ;iU mingle and kuow no dlsivucvvow. \\\\v:iv^ vsva.^>i \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEBD TATLOR. 149 \n\nlessons — important lessons are to be learned here. Be \nwise, O my soul ; the day of death comes on apace- \nsoon this body must be conveyed to the tomb — art thou \nready 1 Thanks to him who is the Judge of the quick \nand the dead, with the utmost composure I can look \ndeath in the face. I expect no pang ; the sting of death \nis sin ; this^the Lord has plucked away. I feel nothing \ncontrary to love. My body may be racked with pain- \nbut what of that? my Savior suffered. But my soul, I \nhave no doubt, will be tranquil and unruffled. I can \ntruly say, I am glad that I was born to die. Once, part \nof my grave-clothes were prepared for me. The Lord \nspared me. Alas 1 had I been taken away then, it had \nbeen in my sins. O the goodness, the long-suffering \npatience of the Lord ! Praise his name for ever. \n\n\" Saturday evening, July 11. — About to record the \ngoodness of the Lord to an unworthy sinner — where \nshall I begin ? where end ? It is too wonderful for me ; \nI cannot attain unto it. The earth is full of the good- \nness of the Lord. But my soul knoweth that he is \ngood, and his mercy endureth for ever. It is indescrib- \nable. I took my usual walk, and at length reached the \noft-frequented tree, where I sat down and read, and \nmy heart went up to the Lord ; and his word was \n* spirit and life,' * quick and powerful,' and sweet to \nmy taste. Surely I never had such captivating views \nof the Lord Jesus. He was there in his power and \nlove — but language fails me to tell all his manifested \nglories. \n\n* While faith presents the Savior's death. \n\nAnd whispers * this is thine ;* \nSweetly my rising hours advance, \nAnd peaeefuUy decline. \n13* \n\n\n\n150 MEMom OP \n\n* While such my ▼iews, the radiant sua \n\nSheds a more sprightly ray } . \nEach object smiies ; all nature charms-* \nI sing my cares away.' \n\n\"After attending prayer-meeting I betook myaelf \nagain to the land of silence. How many mementos <d \nmortality! They lie thick around. 'lam the resur- \nrection and the life ' was brought to my mind as I en- \ntered the grave-yard, and leaned over the grave of one \nwho had died in the faith, and contemplated the sleep- \ning dust, as it is now, and as it will be when the trump \nof God shall sound. I thought of what I shall soon be \nmyself. As I meditated, the Lord drew near, and my \nheart burned with love. There I renewedly gave my \nall to him, and as I returned to my ' Bethel,' felt my- \nself perfectly happy. Little did I once think I should \never be so highly favored. But for. this I sought, and \npleaded, and groaned for years. Bless the Lord ; he is \nnot slack concerning his promises — he came sud- \ndenly to this temple — he baptized me with the Holy \nGhost — to his name be all the glory. \n\n\" 12. Sabbath. — Spoke to the colored people this P. \nM. ^ Ethiopia shall soon stretch forth her hands unto \nGod.' How they are degraded and frowned upon by \nwhite people ! My very soul pities their condition, both \nin this country and in Africa. Heard that a murder \nwas committed a short distance from L— — . A man \nran a pitchfork through the head of another. Alas ! the \neffects, the awful effects of sin ! When shall iniquity \nhide its hideous form? But why am not I the mur- \nderer ? Distinguishing grace ! Lord, keep my feet that \nthey slide not. And may I never grieve the Holy Spi- \nr/L by which I have no doubt Wiave \\i*^\\i ^^^\\^<i\\.c\\ \n\n\n\nJAAIES BBAINERD TAYLOR. 151 \n\nthe dny of redemption. Blessed hope ! Sweet expec- \ntation ! Transporting prospect I Heavenly assurance ! \nBless the Lord, O my soul ! \n\n''July 15. — It is Jesus constitutes my heaven below. \nWhat a delightful manifestation of the Savior 1 have \njust had. An angePs tongue might tell, but mine utter- \nly fails. This is the day of the week on which I re- \nceived an unction from the Holy Ghost, m a manner \nand measure of which before I had no conception. \nWhat a blessed reality is religion : O how divine ! \nThe Lord communicates with the soul as clearly^ as \nconvincingly^ and as feelingly, as man with man, \nhce to face. \n\n^ 19. — Since I wrote last I have not had those lively \nfeelings of nearness to God until last evening, when \ngreat grace rested upon me. I think I never had such \nhumiliating views of myself, and such a sense of the \ncondescension of God. My soul got low at the feet of \nJesus, and I bathed tbem with my tears. How sweet ! \nand how welcome to my soul ! It was indeed refresh- \ning, and I could only praise and adore my God, and \nadmire the mysterious, wonderful relation I sustain to \nhim as my Father — my Savior — my Sanctifier. What \na debt of gratitude I owe for all the goodness of the \nLord ! He has taken me up and set me among princes ; \nfrom being a child of the devil, to be an heir of heaven. \n\n^ In contemplating my latter end, the question arose \nwhat inscription would you have on your tomb-stone ? \nAnd in thought I answered : \n\n\" * Here lies . A sinner, bom again ; a sinner, \n\nwashed, and justified, and sanctified. A smner, once \nan heir of hell, a child of the devil, by wicked works ; \nbut by graccy a child of God and an heir of heaven; \n\n\n\n162 MEMOIR or \n\na miracle of grace, desenring all the miseries of the \nsecond death ; and yet an expectant of endless glory \nand felicity. Farewell earth ; welcome heaven. lam \nnothing; Jesus is all.' \n\n\" July 23. — In reviewing the goodness of the Lord to \nme during the past month, I think I have experienced \nclearer and more powerful manifestations of his love \nand sanctifying grace than in any former month of my \nlife. What shall I render unto the Lord for all his \nbenefits towards the unworthiest of his creatures? \nThrough fasting, my body is weak, though I feel strong \nin the inner man. May the months to come find me \nmore spiritual and heavenly -minded. I long for in- \ncreased conformity to the Lord Jesus. O for daily \ntransformation into his likeness, tfil I shall see him as \nhe is. I know not what a day may bring forth ; but \nmore and more am I impressed with the absolute ne- \ncessity of a well-laid foundaiion for future usefulness ; \nand yet I have a most earnest desire to be in the field, \nwhence is the cry, ' Come over and help us.' Still \nthe providence of Gk)d seems clearly and forcibly to \nutter his voice, ' Stay,' and I willingly submit ; and \nenter the sophomore instead of the junior class, and \nto spend another year in hard study of the Latin and \nGreek, that I may be well grounded. How different \nmy views from those entertained a year ago. With \ndisgust I perused to-day some of my records made \nabout that time, and was strongly tempted to destroy \nthem. But I still preserve them as mementos of my \nfolly ; yet lessons of wisdom have been learned from \nthose very circumstances ; lessons invaluable, thongh \nat a very dear rate. I hope they will be turned \ntecount, ^ All things work io%evVk«t ^o\\ ^ood^ \n\n\n\nJASIES BRAXNERD TATLOB. 153 \n\nto them that love God.' This I believe, and am per- \nsuaded those things were for my good ; for through \nthem I have seen and known more of myself — more \nof man — more of God. I have since possessed a coti\" \ntented mind, which has been a continued feast. My \nfeet had well nigh slipped, but the Lord held me up. \nTo his worthy name be all the praise. \n\n\" Abraham went out, not knowing whither he went. \nI know nothing of my future destiny. I see, should \nmy life be extended, six years of preparation before \nme. I feel much interest both in the Palestine and \nBurman missions. But, speak, Lord, thy servant hear- \neth. If there be a spot on earth where thou wilt render \nme a co-worker with thyself, I consult not my own \nwill. Nay, if thou hast nothing for me to do, I would \nstand still and see the salvation of God. I am not my \nown — I am the bought property of the great Head of \nthe church. Go or stay — live or die. Amen. \n\n\" August 10. — Last evening's hour of devotion was \nspent on the bed, to gain relief for the suffering body \nIt was a seasonable and ^ light affliction.' It showed \nme my frailty — my insufi[iciency«-my dependence on \nthe Lord for every mercy. How important is health \nfor usefulness. Hence the necessity of great watchful- \nness and care to guard against disease, particularly iu \nthe minister, and candidate for the holy office. Alas ! \nhow many young men throw away their after-life, \nduring their preparatory course. May I be guided wise- \nly, having — 1st. devotion, 2d. exercise, 3d. study, as \nmy principal daily objects, with an eye single to the \nglory of God. \n\n*• Aug. 21. — This evening I had a bles«ed ^«^SW3^^ \nin waiii/jj^ upuu the Lord. My spmlua\\ *U^^%\\\\\\ Ni^'i \n\n\n\n154 MEMOIR OP \n\nrenewed. I had a refreshing view of Jesas. O how \nmuch better than the pleasures pursued by the world ! \nThere is a ball in the neighborhood this evening. \nOnce I loved such scenes : but then I was a child of \nsin. The Lord be praised for turning my mind from \nfolly at so early a period. Was it that I might do \nsomething in his cause before I diel I trust he is \ntraining me for usefulness. / know not ; — but He will \nmake it plain. Lord, make me holy. Help me to ex- \nercise myself unto godliness, and to strive in all things \nto approve myself unto thee.\" \n\nIn all Mr. Taylor's papers, whether journal, notes, or \nletters, we find the same spirit of piety and Christian \nbenevolence ; the same ardent desire that others should \nenjoy the sweet communications of divine grace with \nwhich his own soul was enriched. And while he la- \nbored and prayed for his own growth in grace, he \nwas ever ready to use all the means within his reach \nto awaken the careless, to bring sinners to repentance, \nand to urge on the Christian in his race Among the \nnumerous letters from which our selections and ex- \ntracts are taken, there is not one which does not \nbreathe the spirit of love to Christ and to the saints. \n\nTo Miss H , he wrote from Lawrenceville, Au- \ngust, 1823. \n\n\" Since I had the opportunity of inquiring, as I was \nwont to do, into your spiritual condition, you, doubt- \nless, have had many a conflict Avith the worlds the \nflesh, and the devil. But what are these ? They are, \nindeed, enemies of our souls ; but he who is ' made of \nCh^ wisdom, righteousnes?;, satvcvv^c^uorR^-aLwd \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 155 \n\nnedemption,' will give us the victory » Whatever our \nconflicts or trials, afflictions or disappointments, in \n(his vale of tears, let us receive them as included iu \nthe legacy of our Lord : ' In the world ye shall have \ntribulation ; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the \nworld.' \n\n'^ On how many places have we inscribed, ^ Hitherto \nhath the Lord helped us !' Then let us believe that \n' the Lord will provide.' I am a witness that the Lord \nwill provide — ' The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not \nwant.' — * We are of more value than many sparrows.' \nWill not the Lord lake care of his children ? The cat- \ntle upon a thousand hills are his — the earth too, with \nall its fullness. He hath stores of blessings to supply \nnot only our temporal but our spiritual necessities, and \nwill he not do ill Yes, there is in our Father's house \nbread enough and to spare. Even here on earth, we \nmay feed on angels' food ; and how delicious ! I trust \nyou have been richly fed at the table of our Lord from \nday to day. The time was when we were strangers— ■ \nentire strangers to this sweet repast, because we knew \nnot the grace of God ; but to me, though unworthy of \nthe crumbs that fall from my Master's table, the Lord \nhas granted Gospel-measure — pressed down, shaken \ntogether, and running over ; great grace hns been upon \nme. The windows of heaven have been opened, and \nshowers have come down and more than filled my \nsoul. The Lord has indeed done great things for me, \nwhereof I am glad. I have no language to describe \nthe heaven of love towards Gk)d and man which I have \nenjoyed during the last fifteen months. Of this I do \nnut boast, for the Lor.4 hath, in condescension «xl^ Vsn^ \n\n\n\n[ \n\n\n\nlatjiivt. i«*t3ved ii cpoo a wonn. i;;e nnvortbiest of \nLTtniion ; aod tr> hisi be all the gloffy. \n\n^ D&es tje HoiT Spirit bear witness wiih your spirit \n<TAt TOO are a chi:d of God ? Tiiis is the ptifiiMe of \nf;Ten' Miui that faa« been bom of the Spirit. The 6«it \nof i;.*; .Spirit is lore. joy. peace, dtc. Where these \naUiU'id. there the witness of the Spirit is enjoyed. \nThen it is that the sooL with child-like simplicity, and \nwith filial cocfideoce and affection, approaches God \nand criea — Father — Abba — Father; then it is that \n'ieath loses its terroi? — the grave its gloom^^the bar \nof God its dreadful aspect — and hell its horrors — rather, \nthe horrors of hell are deepened, but the fear of them \nis :^one. The &oul. with this experience, is conscious \nof reconciliation with God its Father — ^Jesus smiles— \nthe Comforter is present — and heaven is desired as the \nhome of the saint. \n\n'^ To enjoy all this should be our constant aim; for \nSit'MH, dying, purchased it for us, and living', he is \nirH'h U} bestow it all upon us. The Lord make room \nin our hearts for the full reception of himself, with all \nills train of graces, and finally give us an abundant en- \ntrance into his kini^dom to enjoy him for ever. \n\n\" Farewell — yours in Christian bonds, \n\n**jAa. B. Taylor.\" \n\n\n\nTo return to those evidences of Christian character \n^Horded so abundantly in Mr. T.'s Journal, we tran- \nscribe the record of his exercises, bearing date Sep- \ntember 10, in whinh he appears, as might have been \nbel' 'thout this direct evidence, to have had a \n\nC09 narkably tender, and much alive to every \n\ntt the appeaTance o^ <ivV\\. \n\n\n\nJABIE9 BRAINERD TAYLOR.. 157 \n\n\" How various are the assaults of Satan ! Last night \nt had a dream, in which a temptation was presented \nto my mind, and I was overcome. This morning I felt \nthorn of my spiritual strength, which I attributed to \nthat circumstance. Perhaps this was a chastisement \nfor an unguarded expression which I uttered to a gen- \ntleman who came in during my hour of devotion — and \nseeing me engaged with a book, proposed to retire, say* \ning he would not interrupt me ; to whom I replied, \n' No interruption.' This was intended only as a civi- \nlity ; but my conscience smote me ; for he was inter- \nrupting the sweet exercise in which I was engaged. I \nlooked to the Lord for pardon, and afterwards enjoyed \na blessed season of communion. \n\n\" Sept. 14. — I found, on coming home tliis evening, \na note from Mrs. M. S., telling me of her deliverance \nfrom distress, and her joy in the Lord. She says, ' My \nfriend, I hope to hail you in heaven, as the instrument \nin Gtod's hand of bringing me to the feet of Jesus.' \n\n» 25, — This day brings to mind the time when I \npublicly declared myself the Lord's servant — seven \nyears have passed since I professed religion — O how \nmuch ! What great and glorious things the Lord has \ndone for me since that time — and still I experience his \ngoodness. \n\n** 16. — Blessed are they who are persecuted for \nrighteousness' sake. I have had a small share of that \nblessedness to-day ; and I rejoice in it, because it arose \nfrom doing my duty in conversing with sinners with \nplainness, which is never acceptable to a proud heart- \nend from giving testimony of the love of God in my \nsoul, to lukewarm professors, and urging the necessi- \n\n24 J. B. Taylor. \n\n\n\n156 MEMOIR or \n\nty of a deep work of grace in the heart, and of the con* \ntinual witness of the Spirit. \n\n\" Did David say, ' Come and hear, all ye that feai \nQod, and I will tell what he hath done for my soul T \nand may not Christians now tell of the goodness of \nthe Lord to themi Did Paul say, ^ We know that ii \nthe earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we \nhave a building of Gk>d, a house not made with hands, \neternal in the heavens V and may not the heart that \nenjoys the same assurance, express it in the same lan- \nguage, even though professors of religion brand the \nassertion as an evidence of self-righteousness ? \n\n\" Lord, never let the feur of man ensnare me ; and \nmay I ever be a bold witness for Jesus, and for the at* \ntainment of that perfect love which casteth out fear. \n\n\" Sept. IS. — Another death in the neighborhood ! \nHow frequent and how swifl the shafts of the destroyer \namongst us ! Whose time comes next ? Lord, is it I? \nAfter attending a funeral, at which I stood up between \nthe living and the dead, and spoke to the people, from \n^ the time is short,' I took my accustomed walk, with \na heart full of gratitude to the Lord for my sweet and \ncheerful hopes. I thought this might be my last walk \nalong that oft-frequented path, as my time at Law- \nrenceville is coming to a close. What a delightful re- \ntreat this has been to me ! But this evening I agonized \nin spirit as T had never done before, in prayer for this \npeople. While thus engaged I unexpectedly met — — , \nand with streaming eyes addressed him. He wept— \nthe Lord bless his soul with conversion ! As I left him \n[ wrestled in prayer for him, and for our neighbors. \nMy soul was pressed down with the weight of anxie- \nIfelt for their eternal mteie%l«. ^Vi«<Q. ^xrvx^d at \n\n\n\nJAMKS BRAINERD TaYLOR. 159 \n\nthe memorable tree, I fell before the Lord, to vent my \nsorrows there. O the longing I had for this people ! \nAll I asked was, for Christ's sake, that salvation might \ncome to them. While thus wrestling and weeping be- \nfore my heavenly Father, an aged man drew near. I \nespied him. but did not rise from my knees, and as he \ncame near I spoke to him, and testified of the love of \nJesus. I found he had no religion. I spoke to him \nplainly and with a full heart. He soon began to weep, \nand wished me to pray with him and for him. I did \nwith earnestness and with tears, and then exhorted \nhim to repent and to come to Christ now. He left me \nwith apparent concern. Lord, save his soul, and let it \nnot be in vain that he came hither. He said he thought \nthe Lord had sent him. I returned home rejoicing in \nthe Lord, and happy in his love. \n\n\" Sabbath, Sept. 21. — How pleasantly this morning \ndawns upon me, a sinner saved by grace. \n\n\" I betook myself to the mercy-seat, and held sweet \ncommunion with heaven. Had a spirit of prayer for \n\nthe people of L , but more particularly for my dear \n\nfriend L. P. Rivers of waters ran down my eyes, while \nI forgot myself and interceded for him. Is this all for \nnought ? Is this agonizing spirit given in vain ? I ex- \npect — I wait for the answer, while I hope for his con- \nversion. How long, O Lord, how long? Come, Lord \nJesus, come quickly. \n\n\" This has been a high day to my soul. The Lord \nwas with me in his temple, and filled me with his \nlove. It is my last attendance upon divine worship, \nstatedly, in this viUage, and I think it has been the \nbest. Dr. N. preached on the text, * Ye wet^ «i^ ^Vl^^^ \ngoin/ir Bstray, hut are now returned \\o lYve ^Xie^V^x^ \n\n\n\n160 HEHOIR OP \n\nand bishop of your souls.' The word was spirit and \nlife ; and I receired the truth in the love of it, while it \nmelted my heart into love to Jesus, who had, as the \ngood Shepherd, searched me out, and reclaimed me \nfrom my wanderings. How often has he led me iato \ngreen pastures, and made me lie down beside the still \nwaters ! \n\n\" I went this morning to visit a sick person — and \nnow it is a matter of astonishment that I am recording \nthe loving-kindness of the Lord and celebrating his \npraises on the earth — ^surely nothing but the provi- \ndence of God has preserved me.\" (Having been, on \nthis visit, twice thrown by a wild ungovernable borse.) \n\n'^I experienced but little inconvenience from my \nfalls, though I had a very narrow escape. There seems \nto have been but a step between me and death : but I \nthank Qod for these occurrences, for they have been \nalready sanctified to my spiritual good. The good \nShepherd made it the occasion of rich and bounteous \nprovision since my return. I was not frightened, but \nmy soul was full of praise at the time, and I have since \nhad a precious season, interceding before the Lord fot \nmyself and my friend L. P. This friend has been much \non my heart to-day. Can it be for nothing? Lord, \nsave, or he will perish — and bless his household. \n\n'^ Sept. 22.-^1 was examined in the morning, and in \nthe evening delivered an oration on science, with the \nvaledictory address. Thus ended my academical \ncourse, during which I have had a diversified expe- \nrience. May the Lord, by his good providence, direct \nme in my future goings, ahd lead me on to final vio- \nfory and heavenly glory.\" \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 161 \n\n. Mr. Taylor now left Lawrenceville on a visit to his \nfriends in New-York and Connecticut, previous to his \nentering college at Princeton. \n\nDuring this visit, we find him the same engaged, \nactively benevolent, and devoted Christian ; endeavor- \ning to let his light shine, both among Christians and \nbefore the world; telling them what the Lord had \ndone for him, and what he required of them. Both \n^^ publicly, and from house to Jumse,^^ he was em- \nployed in commending his Master, in laboring to in- \nduce Christians to strive for higher attainments in \nholy love and devotedness to his cause, and in wam- \nmg and exhorting sinners to repent without delay, and \nsubmit themselves to Jesus Christ, as their Lord and \nSavion \n\nMr. Taylor seemed, even then, to have very clear \nviews of a subject, which to many Christians, and \nChristian ministers, appears to be still enveloped in \ndarkness, viz. the duty of sinners immediately to re- \npent and give their hearts to Christ. While no one \ncould have had a stronger faith in the doctrines of \ngrace, and of man's entire dependence upon God ; nor \nhave been more ready and delighted to ascribe every \nthing to God, both in providence and in grace ; yet his \nmind took a strong grasp upon the bmding force of ob- \nligation ; for his heart felt it, and he pressed duty upon \nboth saints and sinners with a success which proved \nthat God was with him blessing his labors: which \nhas been acknowledged by many in life, and will doubt- \nless be gratefully owned by them in heaven for ever. \n\nThere is reason to believe that during tVi\\& '^^<c»>!vc^'Gk \nMr, Tuyhr was made the instrument ot «xcv<m^ ^ \n\n\n\n168 Memoir of \n\nmore vigorous tone of piety in several churckeSi and \nof bringing a number of sinners to repentance. \n\nAt length the time arrived for his return ^o stady } \nand, to use his own language, \n\n\" Having spent a week in the house of my Rev. &- \n\nther H , and in the bosom of his endeared family, \n\nand in laboring in the Lord's vineyard, the wind came \n\nfair, and I embarked on board the S , Capt. W-*— y \n\nanticipating a pleasant passage : I have no doubt of its \nhaving been a profitable one ; for it was trying to tha \nfaith of God's children, and alarming to the wicked. \nOur company consisted of the captain, two hands, four \npassengers, two children, and myself. We had pro \nceeded about twenty miles, when the wind increased \nand blew violently. In the midst of the gak our beem \nunshipped, and left us in a perilous condition — the \nprospect was that we should capsize, and be swallowed \nup in the waves. All above was terrific. The billows \ndashed, the sea roared, the winds howled, and the hail \nrattled. All below was solemn. We thought on awful \nsubjects — death — a watery grave — the b«r of Gtod — \nheaven — hell, 'the captain I believe to be a godly \nman : one more on board beside myself had a hope \nwhich was an anchor to the soul : the rest were aatfe- \n\nI \n\nconciled to txod. Alas ! iheir prospect was despaif. \nI thought, indeed, that I was nearer my heavenly home \nthan my father's house. It seemed that there was bm \na stept betwixt me and death. But, in the midst of tk« \nalarm Grod was with me to allay all turbttlenee withia* \nI looked to him for a promise, and he graciously gave \nme this, ' Fear not, I am widi lYiee? \\\\ ^q^a «wieet 16 \na/ taste, and made me stteng, \"wViW^ Wvj \\\\imi\\j«t^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRJLmERD TAYLOR. 163 \n\nTevohring it in iny mind and calmly waiting the issue, . \nnot knowing but the next surge would enter and fill \nthe cabin and end my life. \n\n\" A young lady, one of those that experienced reli- \ngion at S , while I was there, was quite composed : \n\nbut another — O, how different ! O, her apparent poni^ \ntence ! her cries for mercy ! her weeping eyes ! in the \nprospect of death and damnation. To me she came for \nhelp ; but not to my self-^to Christ I directed her. Alas ! \nthe infatuation of mortals, to put off preparation for \neternity till the hour of danger. But thanks to the Lord \nfor deliverance. His arm was stretched out for our re- \nlief. We were soon moored, and rode out the gale in \nsafety. \n\n\" I found my friends exceedingly kind, both at home \nand in New- York. The Lord reward my parents^ and \nbrothers, and sisters, for all their kindness to their son \nand brother. I doubt not, that in this life they will \nhare a hundred fold ; and at the resurrection of the \njust, be acknowledged as helpers of the helpless.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER nr. \n\nFHrH yettr in Coikge, \n\n\n\nOn tlie 6th of November, 1883, in tlie 22d year of \nhis age, Mr. Taylor was exa»ined and adtoxtl^ % \nmember of the SepJMiilore ^lass, in the coW^^e cs^I^^at \n0MU Hall, where be remained three yeax^i, n<Ai\\c^' \n\n\n\n164 \n\ntome, and cspeciall j those prepuing for tlie miniitif, \nwill probably appear to be iJie most impoitaiit period \nof his life. \n\nIt can hardly hare escaped the obserration of those \nwho are interested in the spiritoal prosperity €i the \nchurch, that there is in our literary institutions, arisin|f \nfrom the character of the studies, and from almost ne- \ncessary associations, what may be called the college \nspirit — the esprit du corpMj vhich is very unfarorahle \nto the attainment of a high-toned piety. Indeed, such \nis its contagion, that however pious and devoted our \ncandidates for the ministry may be at their commenc- \ning a college life, the instances are very rare in which \na disinfecting process is not necessary to prepare than \nfor entering upon the duties of the sacred office. To \nthis cause must be attributed much of that want of \nspirituality which has been the bane of the church \nthrough all her eventful history ; and to find an effec- \ntual safeguard against the legion of evils arising from \nthis source, has long been an object of intense desire \nwith those who are wisely zealous for her true and \nholy interests. \n\nOn this important subject the life of Mr. Taylor \nsheds a cheering light, which shows that it is alto- \ngether practicable to pass through those trying scenes, \nnot only without losing one's spirituality, but with \nlarge accessions to his stores of self-knowledge, and \nof holy devotedness to Gk>d and to the interests of the \nRedeemer's kingdom. \n\nNone, indeed, may hope to encounter the trials of \nsuch a life without many a hard conflict; but the ex* \n\n^0 before un will thow that thtse tx\\ai« hiy be aut- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 16ft \n\ntamed with adyantage, and that in the issue yictory \nwill crown the arms of grace. \n\nPerhaps more than most Christians of his age, Mr* \nTaylor had his eye directed to the leadings of Provi* \ndence, and more uniformly saw the hand of God in \n•very thing that occurred. With this habit of soul, it \nwas natural for him to seek and rely upon the divine \ndirection and support. \n\nHaving entered college, he writes in his journal, No- \nvember 6 : \n\n\" For what purpose have I come hither ? Lord, \nmake plain the path of duty, and give me grace to be \nfaithful. \n\n\" 8. — Have been somewhat depressed in spirits for \ntwo days past, owing to a combination of circum- \nstances ; but this morning I was enabled to cast my \nburden upon the Lord, and he sustained me. My soul \nenjoyed a refreshing season. Thus I find that these \nwalls do not shut out my God. How blessed I am ! \n\n^' 9. Sabbath. — Found it good to wait on the Lord \nin secret. The heavens were opened, and a blessing \npoured out upon my soul. Religion can be enjoyed \nin college. Lord, amidst so much iniquity keep me \nypotless, and make me useful. \n\n\" 16. — The past week has been one of mercy and \ngoodness from the hand of the Lord. Beside a token \nof afiectionate regard from my friend L. P., I received \none from my brother K. These favors warmed my \nheart with praise to God and gratitude to them. \n\n'^ 1 have enjoyed nearness of access to God in secret, \nand had a spirit of intercession for otViet^ ^^ ^^Yl ^% \nray self. With tenderness and anxiety \\ Vibln^ \\\\io\\x^\\. \n\n\n\n166 MEMOIR OF \n\non friends, and on this college ; and have been blessed \nwith a spirit of prayer for them. O that the Lord \nwould come in mighty power, and demolish the king- \ndom of Satan, and build up his cause. The Redeemer's \nkingdom prospers at the eastward, and souls are brought \nin by scores ; Lord, send laborers into the harvest, and \nwork by whom thou wilt work, only let souls come \nhome to Jesus. \n\n'^ Nov. 23. — Lord, what am I, or what my father's \nhouse, that thou shouldst visit me ? The Lord is good, \nand his mercy endureth for ever. This day and this \nhour have I enjoyed the spirit of adoption sweetlf \ndrawing my inmost soul with cords of love. How con- \ndescending and how kind to me, an unworthy worm. \nHe manifests himself as my Father in covenant The \nprecious Lamb of Grod shows himself to my faith as a \nfull Savior, and reigns in my heart king supreme. \nThe Holy Spirit comes down as showers that water \nthe earth. Praise to my God for the holy unction with \nwhich I have this day been anointed. The beauties of \nmy beloved Savior have captivated my heart, and yet \nmy cry is, ' more — my Lord, more faith which works \nby love.' \n\n<< < When thou fastest, anoint thy head and wash \nthy face ; that thou appear not unto men to fast, but to \nthy Father which is in secret ; and tliy Father, which \nseeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.' Already have \nI been rewarded. In the very act has my soul been \nabundantly blessed, and thus have I found it profitable \nto fast before the Lord this day. The blessing which \nhe gave me nineteen months ago, he has enabled me \nto csJJ ro mind with thankful remembrance \\ may he \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TATLOB. 167 \n\nStill make my habitation a dwelling of righteousness, \nof peace, joy, and holy triumph. \n\n'^ I feel the want of a kindred spirit. Where is the \nspirituality of the church ? Where are the men and \nwomen ' full of faith and of the Holy Ghost V Lord, \npurify thy church. Had an interview with one dear \nchild of God, whose soul appeared warm with love \nand decided for God : with him I anticipate much \nsweet intercourse. \n\n\" Nov. 30. — Let the warrior boast of his armor, and \nthe victor of his conquest ; let the scribe glory in his \nknowledge, and the sophist in his wisdom, and the \nworldling in his wealth and pleasures. But God forbid \nthat I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus \nChrist, by which I am crucified to the world, and the \nworld unto me. \n\n'^ This has been a harvest day to my soul. The Sun \nof righteousness arose, and I basked in his beams, \nwhose fructifying influence brought forth the good \nfruit, love. Indeed it is heaven upon earth. God blesses \nme from day to day. During the past week my meat \nand drink have been sweet antepasts of heaven — long- \ning to see Jesus, and reign with him above. \n\n\" Wrote to my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. D— . \nMay my communication be a word in season to that \ndear family.\" \n\nIn this letter Mr. Taylor supposes them to ask him, \n\" How do you like college life ? Can you enjoy reli- \ngion there ?\" And then answers : 'M am happy to re- \nply that I am pleased with residing in this institution, \nfor several reasons; the chief of whicVi \\s^\\)^c'dL>\\%«\\ \nhelieve it to be my duty to be here. TVie ^iiN^ivX^^'ftfe \n\n\n\n168 MEMOIR OF \n\nfor the acquisition of knowledge are every way siifi- \ncient ; sucii as proper books and qualified teachers, and \na complete system of operations. This regularity of \nprocedure suits me well, and I endeavor ' to ha?e a \nplace for every thing, and every thing in its place.' \nTo enjoy religion, as you know, is to have a sense of \npardoned sin, and the presence of Gk)d reconciled \nthrough Christ. This can only be felt where ' faith, \nthat worketh by love,' is in exercise. Where this faith \nis in exercise no college walls, no sink of iniquity, can \nshut out the Lord. ' 'Tis his presence makes our pa- \nradise below ;' and his presence I have felt from day \nto day. Glorious have been the manifestations of his \nlove to my believing, rejoicing heart. In this Bethel \nI have experienced many such seasons, and am look \ning for many more. They are the sweet earnests of a \nblessed immortality. Lord, evermore give us this bread. \n\n\" But a Avord to Miss S . Was my parting word, \n\n* Be faithful?' I trust you are so, giving diligence to \nmake your calling and election sure. And we should, \nin imitation of our beloved Master, do good to all. \nWhy are we not more ingenious in discovering and \ndisseminating means of ' doing goodT This is a day, \nif 1 may call it so, of invention. Cannot you invent \nsomething for the good of the church ? Think and \npray over this suggestion until you are satisfied. \n\n\" A word to S . * Son cf Jonas, lovest thou me ? \n\nFeed my sheep.' How mighty this question ! And the \noffice of feeding the flock of Jesus Christ, how delight- \nful ! By your intended profession you will not be de- \nprived of this privilege. May you prove to be a beloved \nphysician; But can you say. < Lord, thou kaowest that \nI love thee V \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERB TAYLOR. 'l69 \n\nit To W . * Where art thou V Rejoicing in \n\nhope, and giving glory to God ? Let us not be willing \nto spend one day without becoming more like Christ; \nfor it is conformity to him that will make us holy, and \nthat alone. \n\n\" A word to Miss -; — . What of that doubting and \nfearing ? Are all lost in the sweet testimony that you \nplease- Grod? Cast all your burdens upon the Lord; \nand may you, like Mary, sit at the feet of Jesus — hang \naround his cross — make him your all — all your salva- \ntion and all your desire. \n\n\"To Miss . Our Savior said, I am the good \n\nshepherd. Do you hear his voice, and follow him \ndaily ? As a lamb of the flock, may the good shepherd \ncarry you in his bosom. Let us lean upon him — \ncommit our all into his hands, and thus lie at his \ndisposal. \n\n\" To Miss . * One shall be taken and another \n\nleft.' Is it true, that father and mother, brothers and \nsisters, have been taken? and you — you left? left for \nwhat? Ask yourself this question for days to come— \ndays to come ! who can tell but, ere to-morrow's sun, \nyou may have left the earth, and the soul gone — \nwhere ? \n\n\" Finally, a word to all. Exercise yourselves unto \n\ngodliness, in constant watchfulness and prayer, and \n\nfrequent fasting. Let the Bible be your companion — \n\ngive yourselves to reading and meditation. Use it as a \n\ntest to try every thought, word, and action. Let us do \n\ngood to all. In a word, walk humbly, penitently, and \n\nm faith ; so that we die daily. Advance heavenward^ \n\nand be blessed continually, and be Via\\ip^ ^ot «n«x \n\n25 . .J.tt.T«.^v>t. \n\n\n\n170 MEMOIR or \n\nWith increased afifection for you all, I am, in the beat \n\nof bonds, yours, \n\n\" James B. Taylor.\" \n\n\" Dec. 7. — Another week has gone, and gone for \never. While passing, the inscriptions goodnews and \nmercy have been legible on every day. My enjoyment \nhas not been so great as during the two weelu pre- \nceding. And the reason is obvious — I wandered from \nthe Lord ; and bitterness of soul took the place of \nsweet love : but the Lord heard my prayer, and again \nvisited me with his grace. His mercy endureth for ever. \nLast night also witnessed my yielding to the same \ntemptation, which brought leanness and sadness nnto \nmy soul. With what depression did I arise this Sab- \nbath morning ! The Sabbath's Lord was absent — the \nSpirit, grieved, had left me, until I went into the cha- \npel ; I prayed, and read, and sung, but my heart was \ngone. Still I had faith and a fixed purpose to wait on \nthe Lord. I was solemn. I felt that the glory had de- \nparted. While the chapter was reading, my heart be- \ngan to melt into penitential grief ; I felt myself deserv* \nmg the lowest hell. I also felt that if I were sent to \nhell, I could but praise God for what he had done for \nme. At this juncture peace and consolation flowed \ninto my soul, and I could praise the Lord. Blessed b€ \nhis name for ever.\" \n\nOn the same date he thus writes to his friend Miss \nW : \n\n\"He who hath said, 'If I go away, I will come \nagain unto you,' visits my soul with his love, and \nT»air^f jQ^ b^ppY here / and does \\ie uoi ^^^^ ^ xo \\«.- \n\n\n\niAM£S BRAINERD TAYLOR. 171 \n\nceiye you unto myself?' I have had a heaven upon \nearth, even in this college ; and you do not think it \nstrange, for you know that where the Prince of peace \nreigns there is peace. \n\n\" Bat what think you of those professors of religion \nwho, when you tell them of all this, and assure them, \nTtpon the authority of God? 8 word, that they may have \nthe desire of their hearts, reply, that they wish they \ncould enjoy more of Ood's presence, but they are sub- \nject to so many temptations, and have to encounter so \nmany difficulties, they hardly know what they are ? \nIs not their state dangerous ? And does not all their \nhungering and thirsting after righteousness end in a \nmere wish 7 What saith the Psalmist ? ' Delight thy- \nself in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of \nthy heart.' Who that delights in a conformity to an \nungodly world, its fashions, its vain show — who of all \nthat follow the devices and desires of an unrenewed \nheart, can look for such favors from the Lord 1 They, \nand they alone, who make Grod their only portion, and \ndelight themselves in the Lord as their chief joy ^ can \nlive in peace — can hope to die in triumph, and reign \nwith the Lamb for ever. \n\n'^ Let us give to those dead in trespasses and sins, \nall their sinful enjoyments ; let formal professors plead \ntheir excuses ; but let them know at the same time, \nthat they will have to settle them at the bar of their \njust Judge. Let others glory in what they will ; but be \nIt ours to glory only in the cross of our Lord Jesus \nCkrist, to whom be praise for ever.\" \n\nDiary, Dec, 23.-^\" Fasted this day,aLnAYk«L^«LX>aax^fc- \nJul remembrance o£ thai season of divme coxcL\\BMi3&^ \n\n\n\nITS IIEMOIB OP \n\ncation so often referred to, which I enjoyed twenty \nmonths ago. I believe the work of grace has been \ndeepened since that joyful hour ; the experience of to- \nday assures me that I have sunk low in my own es- \nteem, and that it is by grace that I am in the way to \nglory. At evening devotion could not find words to \nexpress the fullness of my heart ; but I could say, \n^ Lord, thou knowest that I love thee.' What precious \nhours I have spent thus far since I have been in col- \nlege ! The good Shepherd has fed me in his rich- \nest pastures, and here, my Lord, I give my little all \nto thee : still enlarge the vessel, and bless me abund- \nantly.\" \n\nOf this date we have another precious letter from \nMr. Taylor to his aged clerical friend H — , of S — . \n\n'' ^ossavrHdUf Dec, 23, 1823, Saturday evening, \n**Rever<^Bd and beloved Sir, \n\n\" Another week is gone, and I rejoice, inasmuch as \nI have one week less to remain this side of heaven. \nYes ! I give praise to our God that I was born to die — \nto die ? to live for ever* The thought is sweet. * O the \npain ' — stay, for where is the pain to the dying saint 1 \nThe sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is \nthe law. But for the believer Christ hath magnified \nthe law and made it honorable ; and thus hath pmr- \nchased pardon, reconciliation, and sanctiGcation, which \nbeing possessed, sets the soul at liberty and makes it \nfree indeed. To me it seems that for a chiU of Qod to \ndie is but going from one room to another, rlis body, it \nMS true, may be exercised with exquVsvx^ v^vci, \\sviX <(\\^ \nwW rest, and calmly commit air\\xiXoxV^^\"wA» \n\n\n\nJAMBfi BRAINERD TAYLOR. 173 \n\nof God, aad there lie at his disposal. And when the im- \nportant crisis arrives, huw sweetly does the soul lean \nupon the breast of its beloved and repose in his kind \narms, while it breathes itself away from the clay te- \nnement to become a fixed resident in glory. ' O the \nbliss of dying.' ' This moment for heaven I'd leave all \nbelow.' \n\n'^ The reason why so many who live in the enjoy- \nment of lively hope, fearfully apprehend the approach \nof death, I think is to be found in the notions they \nhave formed of his appearance. But what is death ? \nIs it to be supposed that he is a frightful form, hideous, \nand terrible 1 Is it not rather the gracious appearance \nof Emmanuel — Qod with us ? What does he say ? \n' If I go away, I will come again unto you and receive \nyou unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be \nalso.' When we die, we do not expect to see death \n■et forth as in hieroglyphical form — no — but as Ste- \nphen beheld, to the joy of his soul. We expect to see \nJesus, who no doubt presents his kind hand, and first \nwelcomes his ransomed ones to his own kingdom. \nWhat then should we do— what could we do without \nJesus ? Take him from our pilgrimage below, and our \nmanna would fail ; take him from the Jordan of death, \nits waves would overwhelm us, and our frightened \nsouls would sink in endless despair; take him from \nheaven, and heaven would be annihilated for ever. \nTruly, he is all, and in all — ' the desire of all nations.' \n\n'' This evening my mind has been led to look to Je- \nsus, as the apostle says, ' Looking unto Jesus.' I was \nthas led, more particularly, because to-morrow istob« \noiir eommunion season. \n\n^ 'Looking unto Juut? Before tVie 'WoACi vi%.%^V% \n\n16* \n\n\n\n174 MBMOiB or \n\ndwelt with the Father. And, O what glory aiu \n\nhe must have had from all eternity I We may look \n\nunto him as God, hy whom the worlds were made. \n\nBut had he need of worlds ? What do they add to his \n\ninfinite, underived, eternal glory ? For whom, hat for \n\nman, was this fair fabric formed, and lighted up, and \n\nadorned so richly 1 Upon God's equal we may gaie \n\nwith wonder, and adore his condescension. O what \n\npity touched his sympathizing soul I. What the miglit \n\nof that love which brought him down ! Well might \n\nthe plains of Bethlehem jresound with glory to God in \n\nthe highest; peace on earth, and good will to men. \n\nAnd well may we join the heavenly host in praisiag \n\nGod ; for unto us a Savior was born, who is Chrkt \n\nthe Lord. \n\n* O for thit lore, let rocks and hills \nTheir lasting silence break.' \n\n^ Let us look to Jesus during his state of humiliation, \nfor from the manger to the cross he was preparing the \nway to bring many sons unto glory. O the contradict \ntions he met from sinners ! What temptations in the \nwilderness ! What agony in the garden ! But the won- \nders of tJie cross! It is here our hopes centre. For the \nhope which the cross inspired, the primitive Chiia- \ntians were ready to suffer; nay, did suffer and die. \nHowever opposed, they preached its doctrines, and \nsaid, €rod forbid that we should glory, save in the \ncross of our Lord Jesus Christ. \n\n'^Extending our view beyond the cross, we may \n\nprofitably look upon him whom we have pierced, as \n\nariaing from the dead. ' He rose again for our jostifi- \n\nCMtion,' Wbtit joy his 4Uc\\p\\e« ic\\XNv\\L«& ^«at «|«k \n\n\n\nJAMEB BEAINBRO TAYLOR. 175 \n\nonce more beheld their Lord, whom the Jews had cm- \neified and slain ! But he was soon to leave them, and \ntriumphantly ascend up where he was before. \n\n\" Thither our forerunner hath entered — our captain \nhas led the way ; and now we may look unto him at \nthe right hand of the Majesty on high. By faith, too, \nwe may look at the mansions he hath prepared. But \nwhat is faith's vision 1 It is indeed a blessed reality ; \n' it is the substance of things hofFed for, and the evi- \ndence of things not seen.' But we want more, and \nmore we shall have. Not through a glass darkly shall \nwe see him, but face to face — see him as he is. Fear \nnot, little flock, it is your Father's good pleasure to \ngive you the kingdom. \n\n\" Do we want stronger faith ? To Jesus must we \nlook, who is the author and finisher of faith ; and pray, \nas by example we are taught, * Lord increase our faith.' \nWould we be what God would have us to be, what \ndo we need but to be conformed to the image of his \ndear Son ? And how shall this be efifected but by look- \ning continually unto Jesus 1 Are we ignorant ? He is \nour Prophet. Are we sinners ? He is present to plead \nour cause — a priest whom the Father heareth always, \nand whose blood cleanseth from all sin. Would we \nhave all things brought into complete subjection to his \nlaw ? As King, he is on the holy hill of Zion. Where \nis such an example of patience under suffering ? and \nhe knows how to succor them that are tempted. In \ndoing the will of his heavenly Father, how assiduously \nand perseveringly did he accomplish his work ! What \nwe find to do, may we do it with our might. The more \nsteadily we look to Jesus, the faster we fth»\\\\ ivni^^^ \n\n\n\n176 \n\nU^Mr wiU be our auaiuiMBt^ tke Uppier we sWl \nbe, and the mofe w« sImU honor €iod. \n\n^ Bat when will our race be ended? Mf lereKBi \nfather, do not f on feel that yonr course is almost \nfinishedl Locrfdng forward, fon behold the crown \nof rigbteonsness. Besides yoor own honseholdy yon \nhope to meet many a departed saint who i»ce sat un- \nder your ministry, and was brought to God throni^ \nyoor instrumentality. If any thing could caase as to \nsing ' Hosanna to the Son of Darid,' next to oar own \nsalTatioa, it mast be that God hath honored as, in \nbringing soals to ChrisL CUory to God in the highest, \nmay be the united acclamation of pastor and peqple. \nPray that I may nerer be satisfied with biead alone — \nthat is, to labor for a liTing, but that I may hare souls \nfor my hire. \n\n^* Dear Mrs. H , may I not say to you as Eliza- \nbeth said to Mary, ' Blessed art thou among women.' \nSorely the Lord hath heard your supplications, and \nyoor offspring have been bom again ; if so, what more \ncoold the Lord haye done to his little yineyard than \nhe hath done ? May your nursery of piety still receive \nthe early and latter rain — be continually visited by the \nheavenly Gardener — and, when transplanted, I doubt \nnot he will range you all among his trees of righteooa* \nness, to flourish for ever in his courts. \n\n** By this time you are perhaps ready to ask, * How \ndo yon like college life 1 Can you enjoy religion there V \nNot onto me, but to God be the praise ; these walls \ncannot shut out the Lord ; and where he is, there is \nheaven. I dr) not find the obstacles I anticipated. \nThe Lord has proved better than all my fears, and has \nf/r0P y bread.' 1 have ted ou v[i%Aik^ IwA— \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 177 \n\nmy room has been made a Bethel, and I find it is \ngrowing better and better, instead of diminishing. \nMy cup overflows — I am on my journey to heaven, \nwith the desire to love God more, and serve him bet- \nter. O let us keep near the cross, and be diligent to \nmake our calling and election sure.\" \n\nThe following extracts from Mr. Taylor's diary, \nshow that he ended as he began the year, with God — \nin a high state of spirituality, and Avith an unremitting \nattention to the duties of religion. \n\n\" December 25. — Last evening I walked to Law- \nrenceville, and once more hailed my dear brothers F. \nand S. and friends, who received me cordially. \n\n^^ This morning I arose with much pain in my breast, \nbut the light affliction was sanctified. After breakfast \nI took my old walk, and remembered the days of for- \nmer times — I stopped and overlooked the surrounding \nscenery — but I was on my way to that oft-frequented \ntree, David said, 'I will remember thee from the hill \nMizar.'* What occasion have I to remember the Lord \nfrom that tree ! Although the morning was cold, the \nLord warmed my heart as I knelt and prayed on that \nspot, from which many a prayer had ascended to the \nthrone of grace. \n\n'^ It was truly a melting time — O what tenderness ! \nwhat resignation ! And I returned, after my heart \nhad enjoyed the season, blessing and praising God. \n\n'^ During the day my mind was solemn ; and on my \nway home, as I mused, the fire burned. In the high- \nway Jesus was exceedingly precious. It \\s do^ — ^^ \ntriuae, the holy God^ that captivatea m^ Viw«\\. — ^tA. \n\n\n\n178 MEMOIR OP \n\nto be conformed to the image of his dear Son is my \nsupreme desire. Lord, make me more holy ! \n\n\" This has been a good Christmas-day to me. The \nbirth of the Savior has occurred to my mind, in all its \ncircumstances, with pleasing reflections. But now he \nreigns on high, the Judge of all. What a mysterious, \nyet consistent whole ! And all to make his people \nblessed for ever. \n\n'^ 28th, Sabbath.— This is the last Lord's day of the \nyear, and it may be numbered among the best ; for \nsurely the kingdom of heaven, which is righteous* \nness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost, has been set \nup powerfully in my soul. Much of heaven has come \ndown to earth. The powers of darkness have given \nway, while the King has been seated on his throne \nwithin me. I think I never had such a loving child- \nlike spirit in pouring out my heart before God, my \nFather, as I had this evening. It was surely his \nadopting love, into which/*MnAr. How it overpowered \nme ! my body shook with the delightful emotion. At \nnoon, also, after walking, with a heart pouring out \npraise to my God — my God in covenant — I sat down \nand meditated upon his works — all of which uttered \ntheir voice in praise of their Creator : my heart was \nbroken, and caused my tears to flow. The remem- \nbrance of my youthful follies impressively recurred, \nas 1 beheld groups of lads who had been wandering \nover the fields. The distinguishing grace of God, too, \nwas manifest, for as I sat, I saw two of my fellow- \nstudents violating this sacred day by secular employ- \nment — preparing recitations probably for to-morrow. \nHaJIojv my Sabbaths,' is Heaveiv^^ Yi\\%\\v ^^oxNcckajad* \n\"^ Dec. 31, 1823.— On SabWiYi ii\\^\\a \\ xtVvi^^ ^^astV \n\n\n\n1AME8 BBAINERD TATLOll. 170 \n\nexercised with pain of body, but with a solid peace of \nmind. I did not rest well through the night, and arose \nin the morning much indisposed. I attended recitation \nin the ftHrenopn ; but at noon betook myself to bed, \nafter the Lord .had poured a blessing into my happy \nsoul. The light affliction was sanctified, so that I \neould not pray, nor did I wish others to pray, for my \nrecovery ; and the symptoms were alarming. My will \nwas entirely resolved in this : ' Thy will be done ;' — \nwhile I felt that * to be with Christ i^ best,' and the \nthought of dying was sweet. \n\n'^ Looking at my record, made one year ago this \nevening, I find my testimony to the Lord's goodness \nthe year just then ending, and an invocation for the \ncontinuance not only, but for an increase of his favor \nand love, during the succeeding year. My prayer has \nbeen heard. Great and glorious things have been done \nfor my soul, in secret with my Grod ; and of all men I \nam under the strongest bonds of gratitude, of love, and \nof praise to him in return. \n\n'^ Why may I not expect greater things the coming \nyear? ' The path of the just is as the shining light, \nthat shineth more and more to the perfect day.' \n\n\" Lord God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacobs \nwhose I am, thine would I be. To thee, through thtf \nbeloved, I renewedly Hmd solemnly engage my love \nand obedience. O keep me — save me from all evil — \nand bless me abundantly, more than I can ask or \nthink — all things are possible with thee.\" \n\nMr. Taylor's annual letter to his father and family, \nat Middle Haddam, which he called hU ueu-^eav'a \ng'(ft, was written this year a little iu adirvnee oi ^^ \n\n\n\n180 MEMOIR OP \n\nusual time, and bears date the 14th December. Fiom \nthis communication, full of affection, filial and frater- \nnal, we present our readers with some extracts, strong- \nly expressive of gratitude and piety towards the Giver \nof every good and perfect gift. \n\n\" Reviewing the past year, many things which \nawaken pleasing reflections rise to my recollection. \nNo period of my life has been marked with clearer in- \ndications of the Lord's goodness to his unworthy ser- \nvant. When surveying my room, I discover one arti- \ncle here, and another there, which reminds me of my \ndependence, and shows the liberality of dear relations \nand friends. How much they have ministered to my \nwants, I cannot say : only, for what I have, I am in- \ndebted to Him who is the first cause of the openingS| \nliberal openings, of the hands of those interested in \nmy prosperity. But more of these will be manifested \nat the resurrection of the just, when our Lord shall \nsay, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the \nleast of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' \nBy the blessing of God, I have all things, and abound. \n\n^^ As to religious enjoyment, no year has witnessed \nsuch displays of divine love. And 1 may humbly and \njoyfully say, I have grown in grace. My trials have \nbeen few, and have all worked for good ; my tempta^ \ntions many, but in ifeaven's armor I have overcome. \nWhile my prospect for heaven gathers brightness, my \ndetermination to spend and be spent for Grod increases. \nI daily feel my nothingness ; and that it is ' by the \ngrace of God I am what I am,' a poor sinner saved by \ngrace, 1 am one year nearer the end of my preparatory \ncourse. One year nearer ^ \"W lio \\aio7ia x\\«x >!ftfc Va^\\\\ \n\n\n\nJAAIES BRAWERD TAYLOR. 181 \n\nWill count me faithful, putting ine into the ministry 1 \nConcerning this, however, I am but little anxious. I \nknow that my object, my highest wish, while on earth, \nis to be instrumental in bringing souls to Christ. If, \nthen, I should be called home while preparing for the \nfield, it would be only calling me from the toil to reap \nthe reward. The good Shepherd accepts a willing \nmind ; and often, instead of confining one's labors to \nearth, takes the soul to heaven, to render a perfect ser- \nvice in his presence. And who will say this is not to \nbe preferred ? I endeavor to take no thought for to- \nmorrow : to-day my inquiry should be. What is my \nduty? Thus I am endeavoring to go on, in a regular \nround of duty. My studies are attended to with the hope \nthat they may be sanctified to some good use. My \nhours sacred to devotion are welcome, and bring with \nthem streams from the fountain of living waters, and \nthus keep me alive. O how refreshing ! how anima- \nting ! The presence of God makes us as trees planted \nby the rivers of waters, which yield good fruit — fruit \nto the glory of God. \n\n\" To look forward a year ! It is a precious — an in- \nvaluable period of time. Thus, more than we do, the \nransomed of the Lord, and the spirits of the lost view \nit. O that we may be wise, to make the most of the \nyear that is bilbre us ! What new plans, then for do« \ning good can we devise? or how can we improve \nthose already adopted ? Why should we not strive, \nas individuals, to make our influence to be felt all over \nthe earth ? The Lord help us to labor faithfully. And \nthis we should do, not merely from a sense ot duty, as \nobligatory upon all, but as binding upon eaclt^^.tA^'^ \n\nico now, as we know not but, ere the clOBe oi \\B?^^^^ \n\n15 j,^tB.t\\wc, \n\n\n\n182 MEMOIE OF \n\nmay be summoned hence. Has not heaven something \nIbir us to do ; something to make known for the good \nof mankind through us ? Let us pray over this interro- \ngatory ontil we are satisfied. \n\n\" What is before us as a family, and as individuals, \nwe know not; but to Him who hath brought us \nhitherto, all is plain. Concerning this we should noi \nbe anxious ; for, ' shall not the Judge of all the earth \ndo right?' \n\n\" As for myself, I feel that the seeds of mortality \nhave taken deep root within me, and I am frequently \nreminded of my latter end. But does this alarm me ? \nNo : for every evidence of the approach of the mes- \nsenger, death, I have cause to rejoice, rather than to \nbe terrified. It is a sweet exercise to pass the Talky, \nin imagination, and look beyond, upon the peniy \ngates. Faith enters within the city, and walks the \ngolden streets. \n\n* O glorious hour ! O blest abode ! \nI shall be near, and like my God!* \" \n\nAs Mr. Taylor closed the last year, so did he com- \nmence the new one, with a grateful and devout ac« \nknowledgment of the goodness and grace of God. \n\nOn the let of January, 1824, we find in his diary, \nthis short but expressive notice : 4^ .-. \n\n\" The Lord has indeed given me a happy beginning \nof a new year. At evening devotion, had a blessing \nso rich and full that there seemed a want of room to \nreceive it. Carry on, carry on thy glorious worii, O \nmf Qodf and make me more like Jesus.\" \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAIMERD TAYLOR. 183 \n\nIt is delightful to observe how this devoted servant \nof Christ labored, not only to grow in grace himself, \nbut to stimulate others in the same blessed course. In \nthis, perhaps as much as in any one thing, he diseo^ \nvered his own likeness to Him who continually went \nabout doing good. In his diary, and in all his eorre> \nspondence, as well as in the recollections of his ac- \nquaintance and friends, he seemed never to lose sight \nof the spiritual improvement of those who professed \nto love the Lord Jesus Christ. In a letter, dated Nas- \nsau Hall, Jan. 13, 1824, addressed to Miss L , he \n\nwrote as follows : \n\n*^ It seems from your testimony that God has lately \ndeepened the work of grace in your soul. How blessed \nto be blessed of God! What can equal that peace \nwhich Christ imparts in some favored moment to his \ndisciples ? What joy is like that which flows from an \nunction of the Holy One ? It may be said of those \nwho are justified and sanctified, ' Ye are the temples \nof the Holy Ghost.' And to them earth has lost its \ncharms — those scenes of former gayety are mourned \nover, as time worse than lost — forms and fashions no \nmore seem becoming. With what holy contempt do \nsuch look VMn the passing vanities of the world. \nDisgusted Wm these things, the soul seeks its happi- \nness in retirement, and finding it there alone with \nGk)d, leaves the worldling to his pursuits and plea- \nsures. Give me my Bible, a season for holy medita- \ntion, and an opportunity to call on my ' Father who \nseettk in secret,' and I envy not their joys. \n\n^ Having been so richly blessed oi Heweii^\\ VtqaX \njrou will go on, renewing your strengtYi^tom^v).^^ \n\n\n\n184 MBMont OP \n\n■r \n\nday. Vie need ' daily bread.' And close and intmMHQ \ncommunion with God the Father, and with his Boa \nJesus Christ, is the food best adapted to the soul that \nhas tasted diat the Lord is gracious. May yon find \nyour closet more and more a Bethel. It is there that \ndie soul must be trained. There the sweetest hours \nare to be enjoyed. Holy ones, in every age, hare lived \nnear to God in secret. It is this that fits one to live a \nholy, self-denying, cross-bearing life before the world. \n• *' Since my location in college, the Lord has been \nvery gracious in manifesting his love to my soul. He \nhas communed with me from ofi* the mercy-seat, so \nthat I have found that these walls cannot shut out the \nComforter from my heart. Were it not for this refresh- \ning from the presence of the Lord, what should I dof \nMethinks of all men I should be the most miserable { \nbut with this my soul is happy, and often exults ia \nGod. \n\n\" Were I to suggest some rules fox holy living^ they \nshould be the following: \n\n\" Let there be constant watchfulness, frequent fast- \nings, and contini&al prayer. \n\n^ Let the Bible be a constant companion for read- \ning and meditation ; and as a test to try every thought, \nword, and action. .j^fe \n\n''Do ooon TO ALL. In a word, waHBubly, peni- \ntently, and believin^y ; so shalt thou ^m daily,' ad- \nvance heavenward hourly, be blessed always, and \nhappy for ever.\" \n\nDiary. \" Jan. 16. At evening devotion the windows \nheAven ware opened, and showers of love refreshed \nmnd. Mj heurt leaped fot ^o^« 'Nf^Ynx ^^ssrma^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 186 \n\nthings doth my God hestow upon a worm ! Grace ! \nfree grace I\" \n\nOf the same date we find an interesting and instrue* \ntive letter to one of his brothers, strongly evincing hii \nfraternal affection and fidelity, and exhibiting a lovely \npicture of that respect which the younger should ever \nfeel fo; the elder. \n\n\" My brother, I love you ' in the bowels of Jesus \nChrist.' In him you are the elder, and I rejoice that I \nmay converse with you as a partaker of the same \ngrace. ' You know the love of God.' But according \nto your testimony, it is not with you as in days that \nare past. Since you addressed me, it may be you have \ncome up out of the wilderness, and are now leaning \nupon the Beloved. If so, I will rejoice with you. If \nnot, I will sympathize, and my prayer shall be, that \nnot many days hence you may be baptized with the \nHoly Ghost. Of myself I will not glory. I feel far \nfrom this ; but in Christ, through whom my peace is \nas a river, and my righteousness as the waves of the \nsea, I will glory. O the love of God, into which I have \nsunk, as into an ocean ! Peace, love, joy, and exulta- \ntion, like waves of the sea, have rolled over me. I am \nstill looking to» isink deeper, and' am waiting to hear \nyou tell me that you are happy in the visits of the love \nof God. \n\n\" I know indeed that you have a thousand things to \noppose your advance in the way of holiness, that are \nnot common with those in my situation. But still » \n*Foes we have, and we must fight.' We \\>o\\\\v \\i^^^ \ngreat grace to withstand our enemies. \"Bux^ coikSbSd^ft't- \n\nJ6* \n\n\n\n166 MniDai or \n\ning our employments, I conclude without hesitationi \nthat your temptations and crosses are more numeiovs \nthan mine. From the multiplicity of your cares in bo* \nsiness, your mind may often be disturbed. ' None of \nthese things more me.' The day rolls round, and I am \ncharged with but three things of importance — my soul, \nmy body, and my studies ; and I have a time and place \nfor each. If time and opportunity offer, a fourth is, to \ndo good to my friends near and remote. \n\n\" As near as I can judge, the world has lost all its \ncharms for me. I go not into it for its pleasures. I seek \nnot my happiness among the wicked. No ; Grod is the \nsource of my happiness ; Jesus the channel, and the \nHoly Spirit is the agent. Shut out from the world — \nshut up in God— -surrounded with darkness — filled with \nlight, I Uwe alone, mad yet am visited from heaven. \nAnd if I do not grow in grace, I shall be visited with \nstripes. Pray for me, that the good hand of God may \nstill be upon me. I feel that Grod is training me for \nsomething either in his vineyard here, or in glory \nabove. I long for the best gifts, and to be found to be \na workman thoroughly furnished. \n\n\" I suppose you do not gain that frequent and near \naccess to God which you once enjoyed. Do you now \ngive as much time to closet devotion a^ou then did ? \nAnd when you retire, do you find yoiMhind fixed on \nGod, and your thoughts abstracted from worldly things, \nas formerly 7 Let not my brother think this the lan- \nguage of reproach. It is love. And be assured, I verily \nbelieve you would sacrifice all, rather than knowingly \nwound the cause of love. If I mistake not, you wish \n\" 'ive in, what I long to have you en^oy^ ihefullnu9 \n\n•wf. Then let no eto^a^ cotis\\!9Ai«dL \\cm^ V«ai^ v^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEBD TATLOB. 187 \n\nbe borne in following Christ ; no loss too great to be \nsustained for Christ ; and no path too holy in going \nafter Christ. \n\n** That you may possess all — nay, more than you \nwish now, or even think, there is not the least doubt \nin my mind ; and not only possess it for a day, but for \nyears — nay, for ever, with the increase. And but for \nthis, what is the religion of our Lord ? He led cap- \ntivity captive, that we might go free. He invites us \ninto a close union with himself. He waits for a renew- \ned and full surrender, to crown us with joy-^to feed \nus with plenty — to bless us abundantly, and to make \nus kings and priests for ever.\" \n\nDiary. — \" Jan. 18. How repeated the goodness of \nGk)d ! ' Ye are of more value than many sparrows.* \n* Your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of \nthese things.' Yesterday I received an amount suffi- \ncient to pay my session bill, besides a token from my \ndear friend L. P. * Lacked ye any thing ? And they \nsaid, Nothing.' My wants have been supplied, and I \ncontinue to this day a witness of the faithfulness of a \ncovenant-keeping-God. \n\n\"Jan. 21. How shall I record the wonderful works \nof Grod to a sinner saved by grace ? Qlory to God in \nthe highest. Language cannot describe the overflow- \ning, melting love of God ! But my Lord knoweth, and \nmy heart felt it at evening devotion. Shut out from \nthe world, I held sweet converse with heaven. But \nfor these visitations of my God, what should I do ? \n\n** Jan. 23. May the twenty-third of each revolving \nmonth pass with grateful recollection. TVi^ VoNvctv \nkindness of the Lord, O how great \\ Eu^o^e^ ^ wi^ \n\n\n\n186 MOMBor \n\n\n\n•easoA during my noon-day wmlk. While I liaTe ha$r \ned, I liBfit iMea fod with heaTenlj manna. \n\n'< O ! am I not blessed of God ? I sometimes think \nmyself the happiest mortal on earth. And socm, glory \nto God, I expect to join the chmrch shore. I hare daily \nmementos of my mortality ; and my soul gets on high \nmore and more. May I liye in heaven.\" \n\nThe correspondence of Mr. Taylor was so exten- \nsive^ that it is necessary, in order to bring this memoir \nwithin a reasonable ccnnpass, to make selections ; and \nyet thaie runs so rich a vein of piety through all his \npapers, that the inducement is very strong jost to ar- \nrange and print the whole. We find neither letter, nor \nnote, nor record, in his diary, that has not something \nof the same all-pervading spirit of devotion, love, \nzeal for God's glory, and desire for the salvation of \nsinners. \n\nOn the 29th of January he wrote to a Christian \nfriend, whom he seems greatly to have valued, a long \nletter full of affection, from which we give the follow* \ning extract, as affording evidence of his deep humility, \nthe legitimate fruit of those blessed communications \nof grace which he enjoyed. \n\n** Hjr detr Friaad, \n\n\" So far as I can judge of the highest enjoyment \nwhich heaven's rich munificence bestows upon my \nsoul, it is when faith gets a view of God the Father, \nas reconciled, and smiling propitiously ; a view of the \nSon of God, that charms and captivates my heart, aa \nthe beloved ; and a view of the Holy Ghost, as *ihi^ \n\n^mJse of the Father.' It is ax s\\xc\\i^ ^^^^oiiithdilthA \n\n\n\nJAMES niAINSRll TATLOB. 189 \n\nwindows of heaven are opened, and stmnu of loye \npoured down, which find a welcome reception with a \nhumble heart that feels itself the unwarthieH of the \nunworthy. At no moment does the whole character of \nGh?d appear more clear. In all his attributes he beams \nforth ; and faith, and hope, and love, and joy, mingle \ntogether, and flow out under his benign influence. \nAnd in testimony that the soul does not arrogate to it- \nself the honor due to Qod, it renders up its all, its lit- \ntle all, in return for favors so divine. What exercise \nthen takes up the soul ? It is one that verges still near- \ner heaven — prayer is turned into praise. How do the \ngoodness, the love, and the mercy of Qod enlarge at \nevery view ! And his holiness and his justice, too, \ngather loveliness. The soul feels forgiven and washed, \nbut cannot forgive itself. With the conviction of its \nill desert, viz. the lowest hell, the soul wonders at its \nescape from the burning lake. \n\n\" The tone of piety is not so high among profess- \nors of religion in our colleges as it should be. Alas I \nwhy so much worldly-mindedness ? Why so much \nformality 1 To tell you the plain truth, there is not \nenough of spirituality here ; not so much as I expect- \ned to find. My studies crowd upon me, so that I have \na little more to do in my literary pursuits than /would \nchoose : but it will doubtless be for the best. \n\n'' The good Shepherd has caused me to feed in green \npastures since I wrote last. He is mindful of one who \nstands in need of continual and increased aid. \n\n'^ Not having a disposition to go out, I seldom leave \nmy Bethel, save when duty calls. The more I see of \nthe world, its forms and its fashions, the mote ^o\\ ^«.^ \nhMi all is vanity. How blind, how mfatuaXe^ \\% %voe- \n\n\n\n190 iMiDnor \n\n\n\nfalmaal What m gaody show is this world ! Whm \nthanks wa owe to heayen for such a discorery ! May \nour constant prayer ascend : ' Lord, torn off mine eves \nfrom beholding Tanity.* \n\n^^ I tmst yon are all making rapid progress in tiie di- \nvine life. Amidst temptations and fiery darts, we need \nthe whole armor of Grod. The armor of men, how \never cnrioasly wrought, still leaves the warrior yuI- \nnerable ; bat with the whole armor of Qod we can \nstand — stand against the adversary and all his wiles. \nWho then would rest short of the ' whole V apart will \nnot answer. The Lord put the whole armor upon us, \nand help us to keep it hright by constant use. \n\n\" Soon these conflicts will be over. Who would re- \nmain beyond the time appointed of the Father ? And \nnone ought to desire to depart, till Jesus comes agree* \nably to his promise : ' I will come again and receive \nyou unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be \nalso.' What will it be to be with Christ above ? To \nbe with him on earth makes our heaven below. This \nalso we know, ^ that when Christ, who is our life, \nshall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see \nhim as he is.' \" \n\nA letter written about this time to some relations \nin Tolland, Connecticut, shows that Mr. Taylor was \nskilled in administering consolation to the afflicted, as \nwell as in exciting the saints to that diligence through \nwhich the assurance of hope is attained : \n\n*^ I suppose N. is still under the chastening rod of \nheavenly Father. But methinks you say. Does this \n■n deierre the name oC ^ lodT \\ ^wM \\tfA\\^Ar \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINBIB TAYLOB. 191 \n\ncoroing to your testimony, you have found a rich re- \nmuneration for all your privations. And we may set it \ndown as a maxim established beyond question, that \nGod will take nothing from his children without be- \nstowing something better, either in kind or in amount. \n\n\" The good and afflicted Jeremiah said, ' It is good \nfor a man to bear the yoke in his youth.' Lam. 3 : 27. \nAnd we are not to suppose that it is not good also for \nthose of riper years. It has been the testimony of the \nsaints, in every age, that ^ affliction works for good to \nthem that love God.' \n\n'^ But how is it good to bear the yoke, or to experi- \nence affliction ? The context tells us, ^he sitteth alone.' \n**The afflicted one is blessed with retirement, free \nfrom the bustle and din of the world ; has an oppor- \ntunity for reflection, self-examination, and self-dedica- \ntion to God, which the season calls for, and calls loudly. \nNot that this cannot and ought not to be done at other \ntimes, and by all ; but when the hand of God is upon \nus, we feel more than ever the importance of a com- \nplete surrender. Is not this good ? \n\n\" ' He putteth his mouth in the dust.' To bear the \nyoke tends to produce humility and submission. It \nshows one's frailty and entire dependence. Were we \nalways in prosperity, we should not partake of all the \nlegacy which Christ hath left to his disciples. By be- \ncoming acquainted with our weakness, we are induced \nwith more humble reliance to depend on Him who \nis the strength of our heart and our portion for ever. \nAnd would we not share in all the ingredients of the \ncup which our heavenly Father hath prescribed for us 1 \nCertainly ; for though not joyous for the ^ie^^\\iX^\\raX \ngrievous, yet afterwards it y ieldeth the peac<&iVi\\^ IwwX'^ \n\n\n\n193 \n\nof righteousness. And let one haye peace inbelieriqf \nand jof in the Holy Ghost, the world may rage, anl \nthe pains of death may get hold on hhn, bat atUl he Is \nId peace, and can triumph. Here is a secret in leligioB \nthat the world cannot know, for it secth not, -nm eom- \nprehendeth it. But, glory to GU)d, to ns it is IM mys- \ntery. And wc expect to triumph in a dying how. \n\n'^ ' He giveth his cheek to him that smiteth him.' \nAfflictions tend to produce patience. How mneh of \nthis grace we need 1 \n\n\" ' He is filled with reproach.' Sanctified afiUctions \ndraw forth acbMfirMgnieiits of the justness of Godi \nand the s<iHl' ffcoa vlJled, condemns itself, and giyes \npraise to Goi. They greatly quicken to duty. Earth \nfades more and mors. The grave is viewed with com- \nposure. Prayer is more ardent. Heaven appears nearer \nand brighter, and the soul longs to fly away and dwell \nabove. \n\n'^ If such be the fruits of bearing the yoke, who \nwould not bear it? But we must not solicit it. It is \nthe prerogative of heaven to put it on, to sustain as \nunder it, and to remove it from us. \n\n\" May you find more and more, that good fruit is \nproduced by the pruning of the branch. The Husband- \nman water thee by his Spirit ! and may he communi- \ncate much of his vivifying influence, that you may \nflourish as the palm-tree, and as the willow by XhB \nwater-courses. \n\n\"I have not much to say of myself; but I can yet \n\ntestify of the riches of the grace of God. I am yet a \n\nmiracle of grace — yet a pilgrim ; and glory that I am \n\neoanted worthy to bear the cross. Heaven's rich mn- \n\nn/'^ 'f manifested in the c\\io\\<ie%t ol \\\\a ^x^t%%\\sfe» \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 193 \n\nStowed upon the most unworthy. These college walls \ndo not shut out my Gk>d ; my room hath become, from \nthe first, a glorious Bethel — yes, a little heaven. It is \na sacred spot, where my soul hath often drunk of the \nriyer of the water of life. ' God is lore.' This is my \ntheme below : * God is love.' Help me to praise him \nfor what he has done for my soul. He hath done great \nthings and marvelous, whereof I am glad, and would \nrejoice. I wish to live for none else besides my God, \nand feel an increased determination to spend and be \nspent for him* \n\n^' Twenty-one months have now gone by since He \nso powerfully blessed me ; — rich seasons, and richer \nstill have I enjoyed since, and richer still am I expect- \ning below. But heaven ! heaven ! There is a heaven \nto come — a holy heaven — an eternal rest — a glcnrious \nhabitation ; and new glories are yet to be revealed. \n\n^' Well, we are on our journey ; but, alas ! some of \nour dear relatives are yet behind — still without a new \nheart — yet destitute of vital piety, however excellent \nand amiable in their moral deportment. But farewell, . \neven to them ; an eternal heart-rending farewell, even \nto those we love, if they will not regard the voice of \nGod. We cannot give up our hope for their joys, nor \njoin hands with the wicked. May they be saved — may \nthey be saved, and with us gathered into the fold of \nChrist.\" \n\nOn the 31st January, Mr. Taylor wrote the follow? \ning note to his friend Miss W^— , of New-York : \n\n'' Of you 1 have not heard a word for moc« iXiaxk ^ \nmonth, and pendrentme I may be addT^mtiV, ^^ \n\n17 J.'B.TmjiVjit. \n\n\n\nIM MBMOIB OF \n\ndead. In erery paper I receive, I generally look fine \nfor those solemn meinentos of man's mortality. Ah, \nwc don't see the half of the ravages that death is \nmaking in our world. Hundreds upon hundreds crowd \nthe dark valley from day to day — millions upon mil-i \nlions, in quick succession, have gone into the etomal \nworld. But my friend may yet he on this side Jordan, \nyet suffering and doing the will of her heavenly Fa- \nther. Well — ^he knows what is best. It is he that \ncommences, continues, and ends the mortal existence \nof his creatures : and would we he at the disposal of \nany other? No*« In his will would we acquiesce, \nconcerning life, health, and all our enjoyments. To \nrest here is to rest safely ; and if we acknowledge the \nLord in all our ways, he will direct our steps. Tour \ncup for years has been one of suffering, but mingled \nwith many a precious sweet You can tell this world \nthat you suffer, and they will believe you ; again, you \nmay tell them that the love of Grod helps you to for- \nget, or to triumph over your pains, and they vnll only \nstare. But, however they may wonder, still it is true, \nso true that you may bless the Lord for the pains you \nendure. \n\n^' May you find more and more that the good Shep- \nherd feeds you as one of his sheep. May he keep you \nin joyful anticipation of entering the fold above. \n^ Where I am, there shall ye be also.' ' Fear not, little \nfiock ; it is your Father's good pleasure to give you \nthe kingdom.' We know in whom we have believed, \nand that he hath set up in our hearts that kingdom \nwhich is righteousness, peace, and jm in the Holy \nQhoat. O may it be set up with moil^power. \n\" The good band of out God \\atvpon.m^. \\ll^ vmb^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 195 \n\nIS Still made a Bethel. It is religion that shines more \nand more to the perfect day.\" \n\nOf the same date is a letter to his parents, in which \nhe shows (and this seems to have been the constant \nstate of his heart) how dead he was to the world, and \nhow he lived on the very confines of heaven. \n\n\" I am still a pilgrim, and the good hand of God is \nupon me. ' His loving-kindness, O how strong V I \nglory that I am a pilgrim,^^ \n\nHow truly he acknowledged God in all his ways, \ndeserves to be noticed and imitated. Nothing seems \nto have occurred, in which he did not distinctly recog^ \nnize the hand of his heavenly Father. In his diary \nhe records, \n\n'' Among other mercies, I unexpectedly hailed my \n\ndear brother J , who called upon me this evening \n\non his way to New-York, from the south. My sessioii \nbills are all settled. The Lord has made provision \nfor me without one exertion of my own. Is not this \nprovidential ? O he taketh care of the sparrows | and \nhe has satisfied me with every good thing.'' \n\n'^ Feb. 8. — Returned this morning from visiting \nLawrenceville, and it was grateful once more, after \nan absence of only thirty hours, to return to my room \nagain. Change of place is not favorable to growth in \ngrace. Visiting and journeying, to me, unless imme- \ndiately engaged in the service of Grod, are not so ad« \nvantageous Ira sweet retirement. But I h&v^ \\^««^ \ntmE^bt lessons whereby I hope . to pxo^l ^\\k)\\^ ^ \n\n\n\n!96 \n\nworld aad ite jof 8 become tastekM to my sosl ; I km* \nset for the heayeniy mmnna. \n\n\" My friend L. P. conveyed me from LawreneeriUe \nto Princeton in his gig. F^edous soul, I ter lor him. \nHowerer moral, amiable, and upright in his outwaid \ndeportment, his heart, I fear, is yet nnreconciled to \nGod. Nay, I haye nodoabt of it; forif heloTedOod, \nwould he not loye to talk of the power of his loTe? \nIf he loyed Jesus, would he not tell of kit loye ? \nBut no ; when the subject comes home he seems to be \na stranger to grace. And shall I cease to pray Sat \nhim? No— let my supplications be increased in his \nbehalfl Shall I not see an answer to my strong cries \nand tears which have already been poured out for \nhim ? O that salvation might come to his house ! \n\n\" At evening devotion had a delightful season. My \nFather smiled — ^Jesus drew near — the Comforter de- \nscended — and I could praise the Lord and give glory \nto my God — and at church too, rich food — that bread \nwhich Cometh down from heaven, was communicated, \nand my bovlI feasted.^ \n\n* Love dirine, all love exceUinf .' \n\n\" O the sweet peace of my happy soul ; ' Tell me \nno more of earthly toys f Christ is my theme, and \nChrist my song. None but Jesus and him crucified ! \n\n\" Feb. 18. — This morning, just before I arose, had \na view in my sleep, which has left a solemn imprea- \nsion on my mind : I seemed to be in a store, in com- \npany with a few persons, when suddenly a sound \ncame as the voice of thunder, and light spread all \nMTOund, and a rider upon a frightened horse passed \nXDifoir— alarm seized a\\V atoun^ m%^ veA ^a* *\\& \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINBRD TAYLOR. 107 \n\nparticular. The scene was again repeated in quick \nsuccession ; and, looking up, I saw an appearance like \nthe sun descending majestically, but with mighty \nforce, and dashed it upon the earth. Immediately after, \nthere appeared, in various directions, large balls, as of \nmelted iron, which were driven about with the velo- \ncity of lightning. I awoke, but unaiarmed, as in tbe \nmidst of the shock, looking unto the Lord. \n\n'^ The reflectioU that arose was, how easily could \nalmighty God dissolve this earth, and summon the \nworld to judgment. And as easily can he dash his \nfoes to pieces. O the day of the Lord will come as a \nthief in the night; in the which the heavens shall \npass away with a great noise, and the elements shall \nmelt with fervent heat ; the earth also, and the works \nthat are ' therein, shall be burned up.' \n\n\" Feb. 20. — Although weary with my labor, before \nretiring I would record the rich display of the loye of \nmy covenant God. Went into the prayer-hall this \nevening with my mind troubled, principally from the \nnecessity of so constant attention to my studies, and \nthat I had no more time for reading the Scriptures, \nmeditation, and prayer. My heavenly Father wit- \nnessed the movings and the sincerity of my heart, and \ngraciously smiled upon me. My Jesus sympathized \nwith me — my Comforter drew near ; and O what a \nblessing was poured into my soul ! \n\n\" Feb. 24. — Received two letters this morning from \ntlie east, br nging ' glad tidings of great joy.' Revivals \nof religion are multiplying, and souls are flocking to \ntbe cross. At evening devotion, had a ' gracious rain.' \nO what intimate communion with the Father I T^^ \n\n17* \n\n\n\n\n_ ICttS IBDIB SURF dL \n\ninicili^esce of tfaereriTal, \n\nin Old \nto \nf oac of miT znodHi^ Iwotiwn \\ \nprauesB raligioa. and I truat Im near to GSoi.' \n\nTo & letter of Rev. Mr. H w indiroring I \n\ntiooaiB regard, and testily ing to the Mrmlng of Goi \non Mr. Tariors labors among his people duna^ m \nlaie risit. he thus replied : \n\n/^AnHrgr 37, I8M. \n\n\n\n\n\n'^ For to me too hare exercised an ofliee nol nnlike \nthat of Panl to TimothT, whom he stfiaa hia son: \nand, Timothy-like, I traat your admonition and wise \nmstmctions will spreatiy tend to lead me in the way of \ndaty. Indeed, I bless the kind Proridence that at fint \ndirected me to your happy mantinn \n\n*' When I recount the goodnesa of God to me da- \nring the past, and surrey his loring-kindness, now \nsuntHmding me, and look beyond time, I have enoogk \nto sink my sooL into the depths of gratitade and lorau \nGlory to oor Giod for erer ; and let erery one say, \namen ; for his mercy endoreth for ever. \n\n'^ Sometimes the question arises, ' What does! thoa \nhere V But as oflen I hare found that I could not \nffemore, for I could not see that it was the will of the \nLord. But what exercises my mind the most, respect* \ning my course, is the right distribution of time, i. e. \nhoar much to derote to each duty or study. Will yon \n9 me with your thon^ta oa xYa& voX^'^^tN.'l Bad \n\n\n\n/ \n\n\n\n< \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAOIERD TATLO^ jOl \n\nf \n\na studeat, had /better attend to my / ^ ^ of \npreference to a longer attention to i/ ^ i^^ \n\nJ not be 9aft in omitting, during i ^ I \n\nall kinds of reading and study, ea^.^ \nwhat is required in college ? Would I no..^ \nthe better prepared for usefulness ? And would no* ^ ^ \nby an intimate knowledge of the Scriptures, with lore ' \nto Gk)d, be better prepared for heaven, if taken away \nm the midst of his preparation for the pulpit 7 I find \nthat the Bible is more and more precious ; and my \nregret is, that I have so little time to read and study \nit I I regret too my ignorance of a nameless variety \nof subjects, which, rising to my view, stamp vacuvm \nupon my mind — but I want your reply. \n\n\" O what a mercy that one need not be a Newton \nor a Locke to get to heaven. And where does piety \ndisplay itself with more brilliancy than in the humble \npoor ? O for more of that wisdom that cometh from \nabove ! Lord, what I know not teach thou me. \n\n*' Were it not for the arm of the Lord, where could \na poor creature rest ? Where a minister ? Where a \ncandidate for the ministry ? The Lord hide us in his \n.pavillion — shelter us under his wing, till all the storms \nof life be overpast. O how serene ! My soul this mo- \nment anticipates the sweet repose : yes, I feel that the \nkingdom of God is set up in my heart, and that the \nKing is on his throne. Help me to praise the Lord ! \nAre you not all captivated with our beloved ? He is \nthe chiefest among ten thousand. \n\n^ To preach Jesus Christ and him crucified ! For \nMm would I live, and in this alone would I die. I have \nno higher object; I can hare no higher. Do ^om t^ \ntiptmdf Lord, endow him with heaTeu\\Y %\\tt« — ^^cfc&x \n\n\n\n196 \n\n\n\nXEMOim OP \n\n\n\nBelofwith the haly aU — make him an IsTaelite indeed, \n\n'^M him with the Spirit's power, and own him as one \njf thy favored servants ! but, ere the anticipated hour, \n\n^ my prospect may be changed, and I obey the simi- \nmons, * Come up higher.' Happy thought ! There I \nexpect to meet you — your companion — your children— \n\n. how then will we tell ? O the fire burns in my soul, \nand causes the ready tear to flow — ^will telL But with \nthese thoughts I will bid you, as I was wont, good \nnight, and bear us all before the throne of grace, \nsweetly anticipating the time when I shall once more \ngreet you with my right hand and affectionate heart. \nAdieu, James B. Tatlob. \n\n\" Again I resume my pen to thank you for your last \ncommunication. I hope this will find you all feasting \non love divine. My soul was blessed while writing the \nabove. I have, as usual, given you my thoughts as \nthey flowed, for I have not time to think. May they be \na blessing to your domestic circle, and excite your \nmore earnest prayers in my behalf. I often think ot \nthe scene on board the sloop. \n\n* How happy are they \nWho their Savior obey.* \n\n' The Lord was with us. I remember too the case \n\nof Mrs. J , and as I call it to mind now, my \n\nthoughts go forward to the bar of God. I ask. Where \nshall I see that friend stand at the judgment-day ? \nShall I be a witness against her ? May she repent, \nand make Jesus her friend. With what pleasure did I \nread your testimony of the steadfastness of those two \nJambs of the flock ! The Lord hold them still in his \n^nns. May tbey cling to the ou\\^ t«iv)k%^ ^^ «vca\\£ts. \n\n\n\nJAMBS BSAIHBRD TAYLOR. SOI \n\nBut how alarming, my dear friend, is the situation of \nyour dear congregation. Although not retrogressive, \nwhy do we not see those who profess religion with \nrapid pace march up the heavenly hill ? Alas for the \nungodly and impenitent in the midst of you ! Is there \nnot a cloud of wrath impending ? Ah, soon many un- \nconverted souls may hear their doom — depart. \n\n\" To Mrs. H. and Miss A. and S. give an affection- \nate remembrance. J. B. T.\" \n\n*'Nassttu^HaU, JF^. 29, 1824. \n* To tha dear &iiiily I love, \n\n\" Whence comes it that I have had no letter from \nany of you thus far this session ? It is true I am not \nworthy of your remembrance, yet your affectionate re- \ngard, I think, ought to have prompted the seeming \ninertness of my sisters during the frozen season. O, \nyou know not of how much you may have deprived \nme, by not telling me of your affairs. But I have been \nhappy ; yes, and although you have been silent, my \nvoice has ascended on high for you all. And while I \nhave breath, I cannot cease to pray for, and while I \nhave being, to love you. \n\n'' The Lord still remembers me wiihin these walls. \nMy health is as usual. The prospect of seeing you in \nApril gives me pleasure : but I make no definite cal- \nculation. I know not what is for me and for my friends \n—I feel that I am not my own. Be not then disap- \npomted ; whatever change takes place, sudden or look- \ned for, it will be for our good. \n\n\" With increased affection, \n\n\"J. B. Tavloe.\" \n\nIn the continuation of his journal we ixae^ ^^a\\ \n\n\n\n202 MBMom or \n\nspirituality and derotedness of heart by which he wu \n80 habitually characterized. \n\n\" March 7. — This has been a high day withmysooL \nThe banner of Jesus over me has been lore. He has \nbreathed on me, and given me a refreshing firom the \nHoly Ghost O, I love his visits ! How animating his \npresence ! It is my heaven below. Lord, enlarge the \nvessel, and give m^ more. I am a temple of the Holy \nGhost, with a sweet prospect of heaven. \n\n\" 14th. — ^Yesterday went to seek a retreat in the \nwoods — a place whither I might resort to hold con- \nverse with God. I found such a place, and if permit* \nted to resort thither, at morning, noon, or eventide, \nmay I find the good Shepherd, as I was wont to find \nhim under the well-remembered tree at L. \n\n*' Before God, and in the presence of angels, in \nsecret, and in the great congregation, have I been \nsweetly visited this Sabbath day. \n\n* Thine earthly Sabbathi, Lord, I love.' \n\n\" Finished reading the Revelation to-day, which I \nhave done in course, and with a commentary. Much \nlight has been scattered in my path, and love has \nflowed into my soul, through the word. My heart has \nexperienced the truth of God — I have felt its power — \nnot as an uncertain sound, but as the voice of the Al« \nmighty. ' Thy law b my delight. How love I thy \ntestimonies.' \n\n*' 18th.—* The way of transgressors is hard,' not \n\nonly with the unconverted, but with those who are \n\nbom again. So have I found it. ' Yielding to tempta* \n\nt/oa has brought leanness into m^ «ouL The Lord, \n\nB8 my corentmt Father, exercised t!i&« discvpUnet^l^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 208 \n\ncovenant, and so visited my sins with stripes. ' Alas \nfor me !' cried my dejected spirit — bowed down as a \nbulrush I went, seeking rest but finding none, from \nmorning till night. At evening devotion my heart \nbroke with contrition and hatred of sin. — Repented \nand made ^,full surrender to God, and felt the bless* \nedness of sins forgiven, and the restoration of life \ndivine. \n\n\" 20th. — Felt an indwelling God to-night. \n\n\"28th. — Yesterday morning arose with a heavy \nload. ' If we sin, we have an advocate with the Fa- \nther, Jesus Christ the righteous, who is the propitia- \ntion for our sins.' Upon this word my faith fastened. \nAlso upon this, ' If we confess our sins, he is faithful \nand just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from \nall unrighteousness.' But the whole day was spent \nwithout the sensible presence of God. I sought him \nwhom my soul loveth, but found him not. At night \ntoo, upon my knees — reading my Bible — in meditation \n— visiting the sick and the people of God ; but all in \nvain — the glory had departed, and darkness covered \nmy soul. Thus it was after my return to my Bethel. \nBeing about to retire, I knew not but I must lie down \nunder the frown of God, which I most justly experi- \nenced ; but I resolved upon one more effort, and went \nout of college with groans which could not be uttered. \nO the pressure that sunk me down ! I refused to be \ncomforted till my Beloved should visit me * with the \nkisses of his mouth.' I made my way to a retired spot \nin agony of soul. There I seated myself, and attempted \n\nto sing, \n\n* Mercy, O thou Son of David !' \n\n''My mouth was stopped. I feltgu\\\\tY\\i%lox^^V^\" \n\n\n\nGbd: prostnte before kim, wbk iqiliAed efo, : \n\nWitMNTd the fierw «f fky frmjm.* \n\n''It toached mj heart, and faith's Tiew of h \nbroke the chain : the burden glided aS, and I letmn ^ \ngiring glory to Gk>d. \n\n' ne deMrt thy teapfiatipM kMW, \n\n\n\nt \n\n\n\n\" I laid me down and slept sweetly, as in the em- \nbraces of my Belored, and arose this morning with a \nthankfol remembrance of God's mercy. \n\n\" I praise the Lord for his discipline of the coTenant, \nas promised in the 89th Psalm, 30th yerse ; and that \nas the good Shepherd, he has restored a wandering \nsheep. \n\n'' Lord's day, April 4. — Yesterday morning had a \nrich blessing from aboTC. My mind has been turned \ntowards the King of Zion for direction relative to my \nanticipated vacation. Heretofore I have made too many \ncalculations of my own, which in many instances have \nbeen frustrated. Upon the Lord have I been able to \nlean while pleading with him for guidance in the way \nI should go, and that he would attend me as I go oat \nand come in. I have no plan, nor perhaps do I need \none ; for the assurance seemed to come to me, ' What \nthou knowest not now, thou shah know hereafter.' \nBut a larger blessing was communicated to me during \nthis evening's devotion. I called to mind, with a \ngrateful recollection, the refreshings the Lord had \nvonchsafed to me in my little Bethel here, some oi \nwhich I hMve recorded for future t«n\\«^ ^ ^\\iow.Vd I have \noec 'he coming vacation «i5;«Aivt^^v^^ w^^tsv^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 205 \n\nmind, with a desire to kaow the will of the Lord, and \nagain I was unburdened with, ' What thou knowest \nnot now, thou shall know hereafter :' so I trust the \nLord will make all plain before me, and lead me in a \nway in which he will be glorified and my soul greatly \nDenefited. The thought that I might possibly never \nreturn, led me to contemplate my heavenly home. 1 \nknew not but the Master would call for me soon. I \n' groaned, being burdened ; not that I would be un* \nclothed, but clothed upon with my house which is from \nheaven.' For a moment Jesus seemed to hide his face. \nBut this made way for a brighter vision of the Father \nthrough the Son ; and such a season of communion \nwith my heavenly Father, with so much of the spirit \nof adoption, I think I never before experienced. With \nwhat melting of soul did I say, Abba, Father ! and \nthe manifestation of the Son was with joy. I praise \nthe Lord, the power of God was upon me. Afterwards \nI had an agonizing spirit of prayer for my friend L. P. \nsuch as I had not felt for som« time ; I knew not in- \ndeed but I had lost it for ever. I am more encouraged \nfor him. My only request is, that he may be converted. \nLord, send salvation to his soul. \n\n\" This visitation was indeed a crowning blessing ; \nand I shall doubtless remember this 4th of April as an \nuncommon season before the Lord. \n\n\" Enjoyed a delightful season with a colored bro- \nther this night. Happy soul ! I have found him a \nkindred spirit. We are all one in Christ Jesus. Al- \nthough he cann-ot read, be can tell of wonders that \nGod hath wrought for him. \n\n\"April 8. — Left Princeton for New-YoTV. Y^x ^ \n\ni/ay or two previous my mind was iu dwVT\\ts^> ^w^ ^ \n\n23 J. \\\\. t«>,\\«t- \n\n\n\n\n206 MEMOIR or \n\nwent mourning my heaviness. I inquired of the Lord \nif I should go tlvue on my way to my father^s house ? \nand laid my cause before the throne. The time soon \narrived for the dismissal of my class, at which time \nthe standing of each student was made known. Hav- \ning found my standing to be No. 1, I repaired to my \nroom, and once more looked to the Lord for hia dig* \ntinguishing love, with the strong feeling that earthly \ndistinciiou cannot satisfy my heart's desire. Here, \nwhile I remembered the goodness of God during the \npast winter, in blessing me in soul and body, growth \nin grace, and success in my studies, the Sun of righ- \nteousness seemed to break through the cloud ; but I \nwas interrupted by the approach of a friend. Recol- \nlecting the standing which had been given me by the \nfaculty, I said to myself. What are Jionara? What is \nearthly applause 7 Ah, these are not my God. I saw \ntheir emptiness, and not only desired, but longed for \nhis presence in whom my soul takes delight. The \nLord bowed the heavens, and while I wrote vanity \nupon all things beside his love, he let drop sweetness \ninto my soul, and I was blessed with a blessing that \n* maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow.' ' Bless the Lord. \n\nmy soul.' \n\n*' Having repaired to my room for prayer, for the \nlast time before my departure, 1 met my God, who put \nupon me anew the arm.or in which I stood fast. Thence \n\n1 went to lake leave of brother L. where the Lord asrain \nmanifested himself to me in power. Before, and at \n\nhe throne of grace with him, I was happy and exult- \ned in Jehovah, who is my strength and my salvation. \nThe season was a good one to brolKet L. too. May \n^Ii€ Lord abundantly bless \\\\im. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 207 \n\n\" After parting with him, with maDy tears, I set out \nfor New-Brunswick, whither, with the exception of \ntwo miles^ I journeyed on foot. By this means I was \nable to sa^e one dollar and twenty-five cents to aid a \npoor widow. How sweet is self-denial when practiced \nfor growth in grace, or to relieve the distressed ! The \nLord gave me a liberal heart ; I trust it has been en- \nlarged of late. \n\n\" Spent a night with my very dear friend Mr. D. \nand family, into whose mansion I was received with \ngreat cordiality. The Lord bless that household, and \nmake it a household of faith and holiness. \n\n\" Arrived in New-York on the 10th, and designed to \nleave for Middle Haddam in the afternoon, but was de- \ntained by advf^rse winds to receive a propitious gale \n\nfrom beyond the skies. At brother J 's, with my \n\nfather and his seven sons, together with the beloved \ncompanions of brothers K. and J., the good Shepherd \nmet us. We found it good to converse and pray to- \ngether. Yes, we had a blessing indeed. My soul, in \nrecounting the favors of the past session, melted be- \nfore the Lord in gratitude and praise. I testified to \nthem all concerning the loving-kindness of our God. \nThey too were melted, and it was a precious season. \n\n* Tell me no more of earthly joy«.' \n\n\" Arrived at Middle Haddam on the 14th, and was \nonce more received into the bosom oi our dear house- \nhold. Thanks to the Lord for his goodness. While \non my voyage I had but little opportunity for retire- \nment. Before^ and upon my arrival, I Viad o^. W\\v%«tvck% \nand tbirstiDg after r^hteousness, and xVie AaOt^ ^i>\\^\\ j \n\n\n\n208 M£MOIR OF \n\nme. I retired and held sweet communion with heaven. \nSoon the family was together, and we enjoyed a sea- \nson of prayer. God was with us and blessed us abund- \nantly. The Beloved spread his banner over us, and \nour souls were filled with love. Happy meeting ! How \nmuch happier when we meet above ! \n\n'^23d — This evening had a most fervent spirit of de \nvotion at family worship. The Lord richly blessed us \nwith his love. God is love. With what tenderness and \nsimplicity the child of God calls upon him, when the \nspirit of prayer is poured out. I have found every \nseason of family worship precious, but this was ex- \nceedingly precious. Wrote cousin M. A. — The Lord \nspeed her on her journey to the skies.\" \n\nThis letter, with some slight omissions, here fol \nlows: \n\n\" Be assured it would give me heart-felt satisfaction \ntu tender you my right hand, and again enjoy that \nchristian communion in which we have so often de- \nlighted. \n\n\" My dear cousin, what shall I say ? With you, 1 \npresume, it has been joy and rejoicing all the day \nlong. How delightfully, then, has time passed away ! \nHow sweet have you found it to retire from the world \nand hold intercourse with heaven! And have you not \nhad nearness of access in pleading for me ? O how \nit would afflict the soul of my cousin, should I tell har \nthat coldness and deadness hav^ prevailed over me \nsince I saw her ! Would you not exclaim, ' that my \nhead were waters, and mine e^e^ ^ iowoX'^Axi qC tears^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 209 \n\nthat I might weep day and night for him !' But give \npraise to Him that sitteth upon the throne, I have spent \nthe happiest winter of my life ; yes, my soul has been \nin health and prospered. And methinks you will say, \n'Bless the Lord, for he is good, for his mercy endur- \neth for ever.' \n\n\" Happy, happy seasons have I experienced since \nlast I gave you the parting hand. For the most part I \nhave had the kingdom of heaven sensibly set up in \nmy soul. Sometimes peace hath ruled my heart, some- \ntimes the overpowering love of God. The King has \nbeen and is now on the throne. I am crucified with \nChrist, nevertheless I live ; yet not I, but Christ liveth \nin me : and the life that I live in the flesh, I live by \nthe faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave \nhimself for me. \n\n'^ You will recollect the seasons we enjoyed when \nlast together — seasons of prayer and praise. But, to \nme, none is more memorable than that enjoyed nearly \ntwo years ago at Mr. B.'s. Happy time ! glorious era ! \nfor the Lord then and there accomplished for a poor \nsinner the good pleasure of his will. What a blessing \nIt was ! not like the morning cloud and the early dew, \nbat permanent as his love. \n\n\" To enumerate the renewals of his presence I have \nhad since, would be impossible. Suffice it to say, his \nbanner over me has been love. Into the love of God, \nas an ocean, have I sunk. Gospel measure has been \nbestowed, and I have been richly fed from the Mas- \nter's table \n\n'' Does not my testimony encourage you to continue \nyour supplication? I long to have the wiudo^^ oi \nheaven opened, and abundant blessings i^xxx^d^ ^orviw \n\n18* \n\n\n\n210 MEMOIR OP \n\nfrom on high. Let us then send up our prayers that \nbrighter, and still brighter manifestations may be made \nto us, that as the shining light we may shine more \nand more to the perfect day. \n\n\" Those among us who stand fast, seem to progress \nin their way. But, alas, how many there are who say \nLord, Lord, but do not his commandments ! These \nthings ought not so to be. Let us take warning and \nhold fast whereunto we have attained, that no one take \n0U7' crown. \n\n\" Seeing that the time is at hand, should we not be \nfaithful ? Our season for laying up treasure in heaven \nwill soon be over ; our opportunities to warn the uxh \npenitent all be past, and prayer be turned into praise, \nhope into fruition, and time will be no longer. Bless- \ned is that servant, who, at the coming of the Lord, \nshall be found faithful. He will receive all such unto \nhimself, that where he is, there they may be also. \nDoes not your soul long for the blessed abode ? ' To \nbe with Christ is best.' I expect to see you in heaven \nthere. The Lord has given me an earnest of the in- \nheritance — a foretaste of glory. On earth we draw \nnear to God. In heaven we shall see Jesus as he is. \nAngels and saints will be our companions. Then shall \nwe sing ' loud hallelujahs to the Lamb for ever and \never.' \" \n\nThe reader will observe that James B. Tay lor was \nnow passing his college vacation among his friends ; \nbut instead of wasting his precious time in seeking \npleasure or in listless mactivity, as is the case with \ntoo many young men in such circumstances, the sea- \nson appears J from his letters and ^ounAi^toh&ve been \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINEBD 'fATLOR. 811 \n\none of constant and faithful labor. By day and night, \n* publicly, and from house to house,' and at various \nplaces — in Middle Haddam, Colchester, Bozrah, dec. \ndid he exercise himself in exhorting, and praying, and \nconversing, and singing the songs of Zion ; endeavor- \ning, by all the means he could employ, to diffuse his \nown spirit among professors of religion ; directing in- \nquiring souls to the Lamb of Grod ; rejoicing with \nyoung converts, and warning the careless and impeni- \ntent of their danger. And there is reason to believe \nthat very many souls will bless God to all eternity \nfor this college vacation of Mr. Taylor, which gave \nthe time and opportunity for his labors among them. \nEven on his way back to Princeton, being driven by \nstress of weather to make a harbor at Sachem's Head, \nhe went ashore and continued his faithful Ifibors. \n\n\" Here, says he, I found work to do — visited from \nJumse to 7iou8e, and in the evening held a meeting. \nThank the Lord for another opportunity of sowing \nthe good seed. May it be nurtured by the Holy Spirit.' \n\n\" May 14. — Arrived at New-York, and spoke in a \nmeeting at night with apparent effect. After I had re- \ntired, for some time sleep fled from me, while the con- \ndition of this city pressed upon my mind. Thought I, \nwhat stays the thunderbolts of Jehovah's wrath from \nthis people ? O that salvation might visit them ! I en- \ndeavored to be faithful in bearing testimony to the \ntruth ; and I found that where the word of a King is, \nthere is power. \n\n\"20. — Last evenmg reached Princeton, and re- \njoice that the Lord has led me in pal\\i« \\VaX \\ \\lV\\% \n\n\n\n212 MEMOIR OP \n\nthoQght of, when I had the assurance, ' What thou \nKnowest not now, thou shalt know hereafter? He is \nwell led whom the Lord leadeth. Henceforward let \nme lean upon his arm and be guided by his Spirit. \n\n\" 21. — At evening devotion sought him whom my \nsoul loveth, and found him the chief among ten thou- \nsand, and altogether lovely. After reading the wordy \nwalked out to my retreat^ away from the world, to \nhold intercourse with heaven. The intercourse was \nopen and free — the communion sweet — while I sunk \ninto nothing before the Lord, and melted into love and \ntenderness at the view of his abundant goodness. \nPraise the Lord, O my soul. May I ever find this place \na Bethel. Walked to see T., and found him alivt. \nWith him held communion. He seems, and I felt him \nto be, a man of God ; and though a colored man, be- \nloved of God, and by me. ' Every one that loveth him \nthat begat, loveth him also that is begotten of him.' \n1 John, 5:1. I expect to talk to the colored people a( \nhis house on Sunday evening next. May good be done. \n\n\" Two weeks ago this night I was blessed of God \nwith a powerful visitation of grace and love in the \ncloset, at Mr. C.'s, in Colchester ; after which we had \nan interesting meeting for old professors, young con- \nverts, and anxious souls. They are now doubtless as- \nsembled, and enjoying Grod's blessing. I love them in \nour dear Lord. And do they not pray for my pros- \nperity ? Lord, hear prayer in my behalf. Salvation i \nThe Lord will provide ! \n\n\"How good is the Lord ! How shall I praise himl \nEternity is not too long to utter all his praise. My \nwants are supplied, and I have a surplus. For soul and \nbody provision is made, ^nd now \\o C>^^^Vtkswft\\ \n\n\n\nJkMES liRAlNEBD TAYLOR. 213 \n\nam, I would commit my way — acknowledge him in all \nmy paths, and pray that he would direct my steps. \n\n\" 31. — Had at evening devotion an overflow of God's \nlove, after an absence of the Comforter, grieved away \nby my rebellion. But upon my humble submission, \nwith deep repentance, my Savior returned to my soul. \nAlas I why should I ever leave him ? Bui bless the \nLord for the discipline of his covenant, and for the \nmanifestations of his favor and love. Wrote to my \nfriend £.>> \n\n''NassaU'HaU, Mt^ 31, 1824. \n•• Very dear E , \n\n\" Having passed the day in my ordinary pursuits, \nand been abundantly refreshed at evening devotion, 1 \nfeel constrained to bless the Lord and take courage ; \nyes, I rejoice that another day has been numbered — \nanother of the days of my pilgrimage b^low ; for the \nsweet prospect of heaven has gathered brightness, \nwhile my soul has melted with the love of God, let \ndown in streams from the overflowing fountain. O my \ndear £., who is rich, and the Christian not rich? Who \nis happy, and the Christian not happy ? Let the world \nLave the pleasures of the world ; but our souls cry \nout for God, for the living God, in whose presence \nbelow is joy unspeakable and full of glory. \n\n*' I can tell you how my mind was led this evenmg, \nand it may prove a blessing to you. I read the 2d \nchapter of Isaiah. The promise of prosperity to Zion, \nthe mountain of the Lord's house, cheered my heart ; \nI could believe that ail nations shall flow unto it, and \nI anticipate the glorious day, though not ow e^\\v\\v^ v^ \nwitness it, yet iu heaven to reioice w\\\\\\\\ \\V eWx^ \n\n\n\n214 MEIIOIB OP \n\ntriamphaDt. My soul cried out, Let Hit Lard akme \nbe exalted I But the last Terse, which speaks of 'man \nwhose breath is in his nostrils,' came with a riehei \nblessing. Thought I, soon my pilgrimage will end. \nPerchance these hands will twm^ with all this frame, \nlie motionless in the grare. The thought was sweet, \nfur niy spirit laid fast hold on ' the resurrection and \nthe life.' In his name I could look up to God, and cry \nAbba, Father. My Father smiled — ^Jesns looked upon \nuut — the Spirit comforted me — my heart exulted: \nbless his name for ever ! Such a view of Jesus and his \nrross — his sufferings and death — his resurrection and \nascension — and his reigning power, I have seldom \nexperienced: \n\n* The hill efZioayieldf \n\n* A thouiand sacred tweets.* \n\n\" My friend, let us beware : we are surrounded by \nthe world. Having been brought unto liberty, let us \nn(it be entangled with the yoke of bondage. Let us \ngive all our time to the Lord, by being diligent inbu- \nginess and fervent in spirit; and may what we have \ntu do be well done, \n\n\" From the world we do not expect our joys. They \nflow from another source — a pure fountain. Let the \nworld share but little of our mind— but little ! nay, we \nmust not love the world at all. ^ Love not the world.' \nI believe you do not love the world — you delight in \nthings heavenly. May you watch, and keep your gar- \nments unspotted from the world ; and hold fast where- \nuntn thou hast attained, and show out of a godly cnn- \nI that your citizenship and treasure are above. \niether your days be feNv ox mwi^ ^ ^\\ ^^CW*. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 215 \n\nwell : Gk)d will be glorified, and your soul happy for \never.\" \n\nA letter, dated Nassau-Hall, June 3, 1824, to Mr. \nand Mrs. L. and family, mentions some of the revi- \nvals of religion, in which our young friend took much \ndelight, and labored with great success. \n\n* * * * ti Little did I think that an absence from \ncollege of six weeks would take place, without the \npleasme of associating, for a short time at least, with \n\nthose friends I so much esteem at M : but so it \n\nlias been. The six weeks have gone by, and you have \nfared, in this respect, as other circles of friends else- \nwhere. If you should ask me why, I have to answer \nthat Providence detained me. \n\n\" When I left Princeton, and knew not whither the \nLord would lead me, to him I committed every thing, \nwith the assurance that what I knew not then I should \nknow afterwards. And be assured I was led in a way \nI had little thought of— a way which has been at the \nsame time both pleasant and profitable. Imagine me \ngoing from house to house, and in public, warning tne \nimpenitent to fiee from the wrath to come : sometimes \nin one place, sometimes in another, bearing testimony \nto the truth — seeing Christians alive in the cause of \nGod, converts exulting, and sinners weeping. \n\n'* I was located some time in Colchester, where, \nwithin six months, upwards of four hundred were \nhopefully born again. Were I with you, I could tell \nyou of happy times in which the Lord blessed my soul \nabundantly— I could tell you of seasons wl\\^\\i\\.Vi^^^^ \np)e of God appeared to be refreshed {roin. \\vvs ^xe^«wc,^t. \n\n\n\n216 MEMOIR OP \n\nThe Lord is still doing wonders in Connecticut : not \nonly by scores, but by hundreds, are sinners flockin;^ \nto Christ. In Millington they number upwards ot \none hundred,' East Haddam, two hundred andjifty; \nOld Haddam, seventy. North Lyme and Gilead were \nwitnessing the commencement of a gracious work; \nand yesterday I heard of another place — Meriden^ \ntwenty miles from Old Haddam, where the work had \nbegun^ In Hartford county, about a year since, there \nwere about three hundred souls gathered in. But why \nspeak of places at a distance ? How is it at home, and \nill your own hearts ? Are you not encouraged ? We \nshould indeed bless the Lord and take courage. ' \nthat men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and \nfor his wonderful works to the children of men !' \n\n^^ Since my return, the good Shepherd has fed me \nin green pastures, and led me beside the still waters.\" \n\nHow the ever-active benevolence and zeal of Mr. \nTaylor were continually manifesting themselves, may \nbe seen in every thing he wrote : but perhaps in no- \nthing more strikingly than in the following letter : \n\n\" yasmu-Hall, June 6, 1834. \nAfTRctionate nnd endeared Parents, \n\n\" Your son is yet alive, and still Vlie happy recipi- \nent of grace and love divine. You have doubtless had \nan account of our voyage to N. Y. which was rather \nlong ; but perhaps the Lord meant it for good. In due \ntime I arrived at Princeton, and found new cause for \n{gratitude and praise to our heavenly benefactor. \n'' Often have I recurred to the slate of our family, \nand the /amilies of MiddkHadOi^m, ?\\Tie^W^x.^^>a.^ \n\n\n\n\nJABIBS BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 217 \n\nAnd I have inquired with myself of their conditions- \nhow are they 1 You recollect the pleasing prospect \namong professors when I hade you farewell. I was \nmuch encouraged; and still entertain the pleasing \nhope that new fire has been enkindled ; and that what \nwe then enjoyed was only the harbinger of good things \nto that people. As the Sabbath morning returns, I \nthink of my father's house, and imagine an assembly \nof the neighbors all uniting in songs of praise, and in \nearnest supplication for God's rich blessing. When \nFriday evening arrives, I think of the appointed meet- \ning for the people of God. And how cheering the \nthought that you have met with Jesus in your social \nassemblies, in your closets, and in the great congrega- \ntion. \n\n'^ I trust I have not been imagining a vain thing. \nMay you go on then. Tell those who love our Lord, \nthat I bid them God speed. And as the time to do \nmuch for God has come, they have need to put forth \ntheir united effort for the accomplishment of the great- \nest good. There is yet remaining very w/uch land to \nbe possessed. And will they not go up and possess \nall the land ? Alas I how many among you know \nnot God ! How many prayerless families ! How many \nm which no one soul professes hope ! And can one \nprofessor of religion stand still and see souls perish- \ning without an effort to save them ? Can one lover of \nJesus refrain night or day from praying and mourning \nin secret over such desolations ? Shall one be found \nidle when so much is to be done ? Shall one be sleep- \ning at his post when the enemy stands thick around 1 \nShall all heaven be engaged to rescue svckXieT^ ^xcjvsl \ngoing down to the pit, and shall tlie d\\se\\v\\ea ^^ ^^^^^ \n\n\n\n218 VBiioiB or \n\nwho died and now reigns — shall the disciples of Jesoa \nlet sinners sink to hell ? It most not he. I hope bet- \nter things of my brethren. Their exertions, I trast \nwill not only continue, but increase ; and increasing, \nthey will gather strength. O, be not weary in well- \ndoing, and be determined to die in. the eaii8e--die, \ndoing the will of our Father in heaven t Aurfdst other \nthoughts, 1 have often reflected on thecondhkm of my \nrelations and friends. How delightftil to remember \nthat I have a father and mother, paienta most dear, \nthat love the Lord ! \n\n'* While on my mother's side many have been \nbrought to experience the same love, the thought has \noccurred, how few on my father's side ! Not only to \nyou, but to me also, this is a painful subject. During \nlast winter my mind was much interested in their be- \nhalf, which drew forth many earnest supplications. \nIs it not truly affecting ? I have tried to put myself in \nthe place of my father, and to inquiry, what if my bro- \nthers and sisters were without hope, and destitute of \nvital godliness ? But, while your offspring have sub- \nmitted to Christ, you have to mourn over the offspring \nof your departed father, our beloved grand-parent \nAnd do not your eyes run down with tears 1 Does \nnot your heart oftentimes break within you, when you \nremember that those brothers and sisters are out of \nChrist ? But what can be done for them ? From me \nthey are all far away. From you, with^ne exception, \nthey are all at a distance. But still something can be \ndone. One thing we can do. Let me suggest that our \nunited supplications ascend to God, in good earnest, \nfor the sal ration of their souls. Hitherto I have not \nprayed for them as I ought lo Yia^e doiift\\ «sl^\\ ^^^^r \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEEO TAYLOR. 210 \n\nder that it has been thus with me. Shall we then, all \nof us, our whole family, awake and plead for them? \nWho will say nay ? Not one. Why may not salva- \ntion visit them and their houses ? Shall we on each \nMonday, then, remember ihem particularly 7 and i^i \nour devotions continually ? I need not wait your re- \nply ; the suggestion is enough to interest your feel- \nings ; and I hope a spirit of prayer will be poured out \nupon us, so that we shall wrestle and prevail. Y/hat \nwe do, must be done quickly.\" \n\nTo his friend Mr. D. he wrote, on the 12th of June, \na long letter, from which we copy the following pas- \nsage, as meriting the practical regard of all, and espe- \ncially those followers of Jesus Christ, to whose stew- \nardship he has committed much of the wealth of this \nworld. \n\n\" We look around and find that very much yet re- \nmains to be done for the conversion of sinners to God. \nAnd this should occupy us coniinually. How shall it \nbe accomplished ? At once we perceive that a faith* \nful ministry is the great means of bringing sinners to \nChrist. Should this be an educated ministry ? We \nknow that an ignorant ministry is not sanctioned by \nthe word of God. To be able to teach, one must be \ntaught ; and to such as are able to teach, this ministry \nmust be committed. But how shall they be taught ? \nDo not our theological seminaries afford the best \nmeans for training men for this work ? But how are \nthose to be supported who would thus prepare to serve \nGod in the Gospel of his dear Soni Het^ \\\\\\^xi\\i>Jckfe \npoint: if it be right to educate men for t\\ie \\ic\\^ <2S!lv5.^\\ \n\n\n\nS20 MBMnor \n\n\n\nif many are * called of God, as was Aaron,' to prepare \nfor this office, and are uoable to defray the expenses \nattendant upon snch a course, what must be done ? It i \nis true, ' the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness there- \nof ;' biu of ail which is his own^ he places mutch im \nthe hands ofmen^ to afford thens^ an oppcrhmiijf of \nshowing Iheir benevolence to the woM, It requires \nabout 9150 to support a young man at one of our se- \nminaries. $2,500, at six per cent would produce this \namount. \n\n*' The time is coming when we shall be no more. \nBut if, through our instrumentality, an object of this \nkind be accomplished before we go hence, when we \nare beyond the reach of doing good below, a scholar- \ni^ip will be the means of qualifying men for the yine- \nyard of the Lord ; and, while we sleep in the dost, \nheralds of the cross * * shall go through the land — \nsound the Gospel trump^give the alarm to thousands, \nand be the means, doubtless, of winning multitudes to \nChrist. O what a field here for exertion on our part ! \nAnd if ever to commence, shall we not begin now 7 \nIn this way, one may more efiectually preach the GrOS« \npel than he could were he to live a thmtsand years. \nAnd let him know, that he which converteth a sinner \nfrom the error of his ways, shall save a soul from \ndeath, and hide a multitude of sins. How many to \nbe converted I How few to turn them from the error \nof their ways] Shall we stand idle ? While the Mas- \nter waiteth let us up and serve him.\" \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 881 \n\nTo Miss W . \n\n''PnnceUm^ June 20, 1824. \n\n\" Your friend is yet in the land of the living, to \npraise the Lord. Indeed, who should praise the Lord, \nand I not praise him ? Who should love him, and I \nnot love him V I who was once among the rebellious, \nas a sheep going astray, but who have been turned \nunto the Shepherd and Bishop of our souls. \n\n\"Smce I bade you farewell and left your happy \nmansion, the good Shepherd has watched over me, \nand fed me richly. From time to time my soul has \nbeen refreshed by the Holy Ghost ; and I have felt, \nand felt powerfully, an indwelling God. This day at \nevening I had an unction from the Holy One, The \ncommunion with the Father, and with his Son Jesus \nChrist, was sweet. And how sweet the savor that re- \nmains. The peace of God rules in my heart. Like a \nriver it flows through the soul/rom God to God again. \nA mystery this to the ungodly, but known well to you \nand to all who love God ; yes, to all who love God. \nPeople may talk about loving God, having his Spirit, \n9nd yet not feeling it. But to me there seems an in- \nconsistency here ; for methinks that those who love \nGod, will have his Spirit as a rejiner^s Jire and as a \npurifier of silver moving upon their souls. And where \nthe Spirit moves, it Jires — kindles up the graces of the \nSpirit — inflames the afiections, and produces the triod \ngold of holy love, peace, and joy. As the soul sinks \ninto the love of God, it sinks into humility, which is \naccompanied with unceasing prayer and thauks^lviii^. \nThis is what I hare ezperiencea-v'QoOL^^ precvvui^ \n\n19* \n\n\n\n222 MEMOIR OP \n\ngift^ and bestowed in gracious answer to my prayers. \nNot unto me, but to Grod be all the glory for ever. \nWhat a consolation that there are tho^e who can tes* \ntify the same things, havmg enjoyed the same or \ngreater manifestations of the love of Gk>d to their \nonce sifirbaund souls, but who are now brought into \nthe liberty of the children of God. O that there were \nan Jioat, \n\n*^ But, my dear friend, professors of religion, for the \nmost part, love the world too much. Having so much \nof the love of the world in their hearts, they have not \nroom for the love of Grod. Rather than be adorned \nwith ' a meek and quiet spirit,' they prefer the orna- \nments conformable with fashion. Rather than walk \nhumbly and near the Savior, they choose to walk in a \nvain show with a frovd heart Rather than be in \ntheir closets mourning over their awful departure \nfrom God, and the desolations of Zion, they content \nthemselves with a cold, heartless recital of their dead- \nness, which becomes so stale a story that I am often \ndiscouraged, and in their behalf fear that their condi- \ntion will never be bettered. Is it not so ? I am eon- \nsiderably in the world — you much more. I witness \nmuch upon which I write, vanity, while I listen to the \nvain and worldly conversation of professors of reli- \ngion. I say, when I hear the expressions of their ad- \nmiration of the fashions and splendors of the world, \nhow can I refrain from exclaimmg, ^How dwelleth the \nlove of God in themP They talk of the things that \ngive them pleasure, but say nothing of the work of \ngrace in their souls. What think you of such ? Have \nthey a name to live ? And are they alive ? Themselves \nbelnsr judges, they must say, No. 'W\\v^x «acvxV 'Csa \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIKERD TAYLOR. 223 \n\nScriptures 1 ' Wo to them that are at ease in Zion.' \n^ Love not the world, nor the things of the world.' To \nthe soul that is elevated to God, there are nobler pur- \nsuits than these phantoms ; higher contemplations than \nearth's productions. Does not your heart find it so ? \n\n'* But of the young ladies. Have they contmued, \nand do they still continue, unreconciled to Grod? \nMiss W. what will the end of these things be? I \ndoubt not they share your afiectionate expostulations \nand prayers. It is true they are in the morning of life, \nand, conscious of this, it may be often suggested that \nwhen years shall have rolled away they will make \ntheir peace with God. I doubt not that many now in \nhell had the same suggestion, and yielding to it, in \nsome unexpected hour their lives were taken away. \nLet us contemplate one of your young ladies deferring \nthis important work for years ; say till she come to \nthe verge of life. Then she is taken ill. She had en- \njoyed the pleasures of the world ; but now, sick, aAd \nwith the prospect of soon exchanging time for eter- \nnity, how pallid that once blooming countenance ! hew \nemaciated that once healthy, beauteous form ! And \nnow we hear uttered in thrilling agony, ' I have bar- \ntered away a life of piety for a life of unsatisfying \npleasures ! Instead of the smiles of God as my hea- \nvenly Father, I have to bear his frowns. My sin ! Ah, \nmy sin is my own folly ! Of sin I was often warned, \noften prayed for, often wept over ; but my heart har- \ndened under reproof. Ah, where am I now ? Friends \nweep around, but they cannot help me. Soon this fast \ndecaying frame will sink into the grave. But my soul ! \nMy 8oul! My soul is damned for evex? \\% Sx ^<^.^'i&^ \nihen, to delay this great concern tiW X\\i«a'\\ \\%Sx^%Sft \n\n\n\n224 MEMOIR OF \n\nto delay it a day? Will they not resolve to securt \ntheir salvation this moment ? It is, yes, it is import \ntant. To open, the way of life to man, heaven's darling \nSon left the glory which he had with the Father ; he \nsuffered, groaned, hied, and died for sinners. O that \ntheir hearts' would melt — would hreak with hum hie \npenitence, and by faith lay hold on this Savior and \nbe saved.\" \n\nWithin the month following we find many mte- \nresting records in Mr. Taylor's journal, of his commu- \nliion with God, and his labors and prayers for the con- \nversion of sinners, and his visits and efforts to com- \nfort the afflicted, to prepare the dying for death, and \nthe living to live to the glory of God. \n\n\"June 27. — The morning succeeding found me \nshorn of my strength; but at evening devotion I sunk \nat the feet of Jesus, and, Mary-like, bathed them with \ntears of humble contrition. My soul again exulted in \nGod. This prepared me for the worship of the sanc- \ntuary. 1 carried the King of Zion enthroned in my \nheart to the temple where he held his court. My soul \nmelted there again. Heard Mr. Summerfield — the se- \ncret of whose popularity, I think, lies much in his holi- \nness of heart. He has had a deep experience in divine \nthings, and doubtless knows, from day to day, what \nit is to have his lips touched with hallowed fire. \n\n\" Sabbath, July 11. — Have found this to be of a \n\nTruth the Lord's day, for the Sabbath's Lord has been \n\nnear. For a few days past I have had less enjoyment \n\nfhan usual. The cause is obvious : I grieved the Holy \n\nJSpirit the night after the last poYrei^u\\\\Aft^?\\\\i^^\\Ofc^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAntEHD TAYLOR. > 22f^ \n\nwas five days ago. What a mercy that myliackslidiiig \nhas been heaald ! Bless the Lord for the healing balm-* \nfor the good Physician. \n\n\" As I knelt in my usual place, the thought arose, \nthis may be the last time I shall ever pray. My soul \nwas hungering for the bread of life, and faith seemed \nalmost ready to lay hold on a blessing. My heart soon \nmelted into penitence, and tears ran down my eyes. \nHad abasing views of myself, and exalted views of \nGod, as he is in himself, and in his relation to fallen \nman in general, and to his children particularly. My \nFather smiled, my soul was refreshed, and I could \nonce more rejoice. O the liberty of the children of \nGod ! Had a peculiar and before unknown view oi \nmyself as a candidate for the holy ministry. Rather \nthan not have the approbation of Jesus, and the pre« \nsence of Jesus — rather than not be taught of him, let • \nmy other qualifications be what they may, I would \ncease to pursue this object. Wherever I go, let him go \nwith me ; for through Christ strengthening me, I can \ndo and bear all things.\" \n\nTo Rev. C. H . \n\n«< NasaaurHaU, July 20, 1894. \n\n\" James, a servant of Jesus Christ, to his beloved \nbrother Charles, now teaching publicly, and from \nhouse to house, testifying to every man repentance to- \nwards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. May \ngreat grace, mercy, and peace from ^ Grod our Father, \nand from our Lord Jesus Christ, be multiplied unto \nyou. And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly , \nand I pray God your whole spirit, and ^o\\x\\^%?cA\\^<^^')^ \nbe preserved blameless unto the comVu^ o^ ovxx Visss'^ \n\n\n\n226 \n\nJesQs Christ. Faithful is he that calleUi yon, who also \nwill do it.* \n\n\"My dear brother, I address you from my 'Be- \nthesda.' I say Bethesda, because this little room has \nso of tea been a house of mercy to me, once lame and \nhalt, weary and heavy iaden. \n\n\" Hither, shut out from the world, have I resorted : \nsought, found, and delighted in the Beloved. I might \ncall it PUgMs top, but it is more, because of the \nmanifestations of the Son of God to the most un- \nworthy. A heavenly land has opened to my view. \nThrough faith^s vision earth has receded, and the \nsoul has risen and entered the holy city — communed \nwith saints and angels — sat down at the feet of Jesus, \nand sung hallelujahs to the Lamb. \n\n\" My brother, 1 would not intrude upon you, but the \nlove of Christ constraineth me. I love you because \nyou love the Savior and his cause. 1 love you, and \ntherefore write ; and I hope that, for Christ's sake, this \nepistle may come to you with a blessing. \n\n\" 1 might tell you of the gracious visitations of Grod's \nlove to me, from time to time ; how happy in commu- \nnion with my Savior — how resigned to his will — of the \nsweet prospects of heaven and glory that have opened \nto my soul. But you would hear of the prosperity of \nZion in the land of our fathers. \n\n\" After reaching Middle Had dam last April, I en- \ntered upon what 1 thought .would be a pleasant route, \nto visit those places where the Holy Spirit had recent- \nly showered down a gracious rain. But the Lord hin- \ndered me. I stopped at Colchester, where my time was \nto /nyself^and the last day will tell whether to others \nornot — spent profitably. You can \\m^%\\\\ife \\TL^\\aX \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMEBD TATLOB. 227 \n\nway I was employed in the midst of the impenitent, \nthe awakened, the anxious, young converts, and en- \ngaged Christians. But how is it with your people ? \nIs the church awake ? Are your elders alive to the best \ninterests of Zion ? Are professors wrestling in secret \nfor the ingathering of souls ? Is there a general mourn- \ning, with you, over the desolations of the church ? If \nnot, what shall the end of these things be ? O, how it \nwould animate your heart to see Christians alert — to \nhear sinners ery for mercy — to see them submitting to \nGod — owning the Savior — and uniting themselves to \nthe Lord's people. Be encouraged, for who can tell \nbut a multitude of sinners may soon become, under \nyour ministry, obedient to the faith. As it is your duty \nto labor for it, so it is your duty and privilege to look \nfor it — to watch for it, more than they that watch for \nthe morning. \n\n\" I have become entirely contented with my present \ncourse. The good Shepherd scatters rich food as I tra- \nvel in the wilderness. My heart, too, is still, and mor« \nthan ever set upon the work of the ministry. To this \none object I would have every acquisition tend. In \nthe accomplishment of this one thing I would live; \nwhen it is done I would die ; for heaven is the home \nof God's children. I think I am willing to do the will \nof God. When he commands I would obey ; when he \ncalls I would run. \n\n\" Another watchman has fallen from the walls of \nZion, to rise, we trust, to the city of our God. Mr. \nWhelpley is dead. When shall it be said brother H. \nk dead — when shall it be said of me, * He is gone V \nWhat I say unto you, I say unto all^ ualciil kcL^«' \n\n\n\n228 MEMOIR 01^ \n\nfectioDate remembrance to Mrs. H., and believe me, \nyours in the best bonds, \n\n\" Jame6 B. Taylob.\" \n\nMr. Taylor, who labored to be an uncommon Chria- \ntian, seems to have excelled in a prevailing desire \nthat Christians, in all their relations, should do their \nduty, and have large experience of the work of grace \nin their own souls. To a friend, in prospect of her \nmarriage, he wrote : \n\n* \"It u probable you will be connected with Mr. \n% Does he grow in grace ? My friend, whatever \n\n\n\nelse you leave unlooked after, see veil to this ; see well \nto this ; as you value his usefulness, as you value your \nown and his happiness. I do not command ; I exhort; \nO be faithful— kindly faithful. If he be a man of God, \nhe will ever thank you ; he will love you the more for \nsuch faithfulness. Talk much and pointedly upon €a> \nperimental godliness.\" \n\nTo one from whom he had received a friendly gift, \nhe wrote : \n\n\" In heaven, I have not the least doubt you will re \njoice for helping one on his way to the ministry. Help \nby your prayers, and thus speed me on my way.\" \n\nOn the subject of fasting, (a duty too little prac- \nticed in the church, and sometimes abused to their in- \njury, by persons of much piety, but of a morbid tem- \n\nperameDt,) Mr. Taylor made, about this time, the fol' \n\nlowing note in his journal ; \n\n\n\nlA&lES BRAIN BRD TAYLOK. S89 \n\n\" A day of abstinence. Heretofore I have practiced \nfasting on a particular day, for more than two years ; \nand have found some of the seasons greatly beneficial. \nBut fasting, connected with my usual studies, has \ngreatly debilitated my body, and left me generally \nwith a severe headache, which has led me to the con- \nclusion that, under existing circumstances, it is not \nmy duty to abstain altogether?^ \n\nThis conclusion, which was certainly wise, shows, \namong many other things, that Mr. Taylor's high re- \nligious feelings, in which perhaps he surpassed almost \nall persons of his day, were connected with a sound \nmind and a sober consideration of duty. No man was \nfarther removed from gloomy austerity, or relied less \nupon either his feelings or duties. The evidence of \nthis will be apparent to every attentive reader, as it \nwill bl found in the fact, that in his highest exercises \nof devotion, when his whole soul was filled with the \nlove of God, and his countenance made luminous with \nthe holy fire that burnt within, he at the same time \nentertained the most humbling views of himself, as a \nsinner saved by grace ; and was ever ready to say, in \nthe language of Paul, \" by the grace of Gkkl, I am \nwhat I am.\" \n\nHow he acknowledged the hand of God in all his \nways — referred all events to divine providence, and re- \nlied upon the grace of God, may be seen in the follow- \ning extracts from his journal : \n\n\" Aug. 7, 1824.—- Met with a disappomttnent in not \n\n▼lisiting my friends at L . It ^aa «L\\.\\.«tL^^^^>2^ \n\nM blegsiDg, and I concluded it -wo^d fttiW^V^ ^OXo-^^ \n\n2Q i.'ft.t^sv* \n\n\n\n230 MGMOIR OP \n\nwith a train of blessings. The disappointment was \nunexpected, and from a source, too, that was calcula* \nted to excite strong feeling. But grace abounded. \n\n\" 8th. — Abundant reason to bless God for my deten- \ntion yesterday. Last evening had an opening for doing \ngood, and eternity may show some fruit. Visited seve- \nral sick persons, and at every place endeavored to \nspeak faithfully and boldly for God, and afterwards at \na meeting. \n\n'* 9th. — This night, glory to our Grod, had a power- \nful visitation from above — it is past telling — and it was \nto prepare me to stand up for God. This I did, and \nspoke boldly ; the word was attended with power, and \nthe Spirit of power and holiness rested on me. Sin- \nners trembled — backsliders too^and the engaged child \nof God exulted. Had I not been detained, where were \nall that has come upon me and been communicated \nthrough me since the 7th. Appointed another Wet- \ning at the request of the people. \n\n\"11th.— * Who will take the first honor?' *Did \nne do well V &c. In this season of examination ran \nthrough the crowd ; but grace so gained the victory \nover me as to enable me to look down upon these \nmeaner things, and say, these are not my God. No : \nthe honor from above I seek, and to my studies let me \ngo, as to a duty for Christ's sake, and for the honor \nof the Gospel. \n\n\" Felt a strong attachment to the word of God ; and \nover that word, as the legacy of my Friend on high, I \ncherished my attachment, my soul sunk low at the feet \nof Jesus, and I drank from the fountain. \n\n'^ WeDt out and visited the sick. I Vo^e m^ Master \nand my Maater'a work. I loye to comioxWiSA^^o'^^ft-* \n\n\n\nJAMEa BRAINERD TAYLOR. 231 \n\nI love to talk to sinners. Lord, help. Lord, teach thou \nme, and bless me more and more. I can look upon \nthis day's blessings as arising from my detention last \nSaturday, and it will probably prove, in time to come, \na link in the chain of providence not to be told. I«et \nme look at providence in small as well as great things, \nand wonder and adore. \n\n** 25th. — The chain is gathering links— little did 1 \nthink that so much depended upon my disappointment \non the 7th. Last Monday evening attended the ap- \npointed meeting, and had a refreshing time. The peo- \nple of God testified that it was heaven to be there. \nDid not feel so happy myself, but had liberty to speak \na word in season to the people. \n\n\" HoAv exalted the privilege to help forward the chil- \ndren of God heavenward — even Ethiopia's degraded \nchildren. O that they may be seen all of them stretch- \ning forth the hand unto God. \n\n\" Find employment in visiting the sick poor. Called \nto see a colored woman. She is happy in God, in the \nprospect of death. Had an opportunity to converse \nwith a beggar ; prayed with him, and presented him \nwith a testament and the last sixpence I had in my \npocket. The thought arose, give this away, and what \nwill you do to-morrow ? But stay : \n\n' My wants to-day are aU supplied, \nTo-morrow, it may be said, he died.* \n\n\" O for more contidence in God — God is able to \nmake all grace abound towards you; ' that you, always \nhaving all sufficiency in all things, may abound to \nevery good wot}[J^ 2 Cor. 9 : 8. \n\n''27tb.—'A door opened for me to exetlni'^*^^^^*^ '^ \n\n\n\n232 MEMOIR or \n\npoor child of God — put in two cents, the very last mite \nI supposed I had — the word of God came, ' Give, and \nit shall be given unto you ' — went out and begged more \nand with this and a needed garment went as the al* \nmoner of heaven, and delivered up the contribution. \n' Naked, and ye clothed me.' \n\n\" 28th. — Providence seems to open the door still \nwider for my prospective usefulness among the poor ; \nand the question arose, shall I live in Princeton fiv^ \nyears, and Princeton be none the better for ma 7 * \n\n\" A new plan opened to my mind, upon the prose^ \ncution of which I entered to-night. Open, Lord, my \neyes — I am tired of waiting for others ; there are la* \nborers enough all around, but they don't come into the \nvineyard to work. Let me be up and doing constantly, \nfaithfully, firmly. \n\n\" Opened a small trunk, and unexpectedly found \nninepence. Is not this Gospel measure 1 If a mer- \nchant had $2000 at evening, and gave it away, and \nthe next day should find him in possession of $9000^ \nwould he not consider it an increase running over? \nMine is as much in proportion, and how often is abun- \ndance poured into my hand !\" \n\nTo his christian sister Miss W. of New- York, in \ncommunion with whom he took much delight, he wrote \non the 25th as follows : \n\n\" O Miss W. what a truth ! ' God is love ;' and I \n\nfeel the indescribable weight of this truth restmg upon \n\nmy soul. To the world and to the formalist, I know, \n\nindeed, that these are unmeaiiin^ words; but my \n\nfriend can rejoice that God \\aA *uavatx%^v\\i^>Ksva^- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 238 \n\nledge of this hidden mystery to me, and is building \nme up in faith and holiness. Holiness! O what \ncharms in the very word ! God is holy — angels are \nholy — saints in glory are holy — and ' without holiness \nno one shall see the Lord.' O to be more like our \nblessed Jesus — more like God ! \n\n\" I still address you from my Bethesda — a house of \nmercy to the most unworthy. My study is about five \nfeet square ; and yet I can sing, \n\n* This little room, for me designed, \nSuits as well my easy mind \nAs palaces of kings.' \n\n'^ I hope God is training me for something ; I trust \nIt is either to labor for him on earth, or to take me to \nhimself. To labor for him now is sweet, increasingly \nsweet ; and O, he is with me ! At home and abroad \nJesus stands by me — the Spirit comforts me — miy Fa- \nther smiles — so, \n\n* Tell me no more of earthly toys, \n\nOf sinful mirth and carnal joys, \n\nThe things I loved before.' \n\n\" Let the world have these. Let the professor of \nreligion who indulges in them, wish me to join him : \nbut God forbid ! for, were I to indulge, even in what \nby some are called innocent pleasures, my spiritual \njoys would be gone. And for this I am spoken of, and \nthat too by professors of the religion of Jesus. But \nwhat is it to be judged of man's judgment ? My wit- \nness and record are on high. By cens\\inii« ^otxJtCva^xJttK^ \ncensure me for doing the work o£ tke 1»ot^. ^V'^ «V^w»» \n\n20* \n\n\n\n2H MEMOIR or \n\ntime I have tiom my college duties, I would xathet \nspend with the sick — the indigent ; and that too, to \nwin souls. And my prospect for doing good is much \ngreater in huts and smoky cabins, than in the draw- \ning-rooms of rich and thoughtless worldlings. They \nare joined to their idols. O, pray that I may firmly \nand devotedly do the work of the Lord, caring neither \nfor their contempt nor their applause; alike indiffe- \nrent to popularity and persecution. And may imr ef- \nforts be to turn men from ain to holiness, \n\n\" Glory to our heavenly Father, for his rich grace \nthrough our Lord Jesus Christ. ' By grace are ye \nsaved, through faith.' This is the way, the only way, \nof salvation. And it is a sweet way — the way of holi- \nness — the way to heaven.\" \n\nTo a female relative, for whom, as for all his rela- \ntions, Mr. Taylor's heart seemed ever to overflow with \naffection, he wrote an interesting letter, well calcula- \nted to instruct and reprove those professors of religion \nwho, like the creaking door upon its hinges, ever com- \nplain, and yet make no progress. \n\n\" J^assavrHall, Aug. 28, 1824. \n«Dewr R , \n\n'' My soul blesses our heavenly Parent for the affec- \ntion I bear to you, both natural and christian. Instead \nof diminishing, it gathers strength ; and I trust it is to \nbe perfected in a fairer clime. * \n\n\" Having the same round of duties from day to day, \nyou will readily conclude that I can have little news \nto communicate ; but there is a xl\\em« to which our \nAearts hare been attuned. WeWexV^^v^Nsxt— \"^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 235 \n\nlove his cause ! but whence is it that we have been \nturned to the Shepherd and Bishop of our souls 1 We \nlove God because he first loved us. Here is the solu- \ntion of what would otherwise be an unfathomable \ndepth, and for ever remain a mystery. \n\n\" Having been extricated from the miry clay, and \nour feet set upon a rock, what manner of persons \nought we to be in all holy conversation ! Surely as \nhe who hath called us is holy, so ought we to be \nholy. \n\n\" What are the signs of the times ? Is mttch said \nabout religion, for and against it ? Where is the host \nthat/^eZ, that talk, that live religion? Alas, the con- \nstant harping of professors of religion upon their for- \nmality, coldness, stupidity, want of life ! Why, in the \nname of my Master, are they not before Grod, on their \nknees, in their closets, mourning over their declen- \nsion ? They need not tell the world of their indiffe- \nrence. It is already too evident. And the world sees \nit with astonishment. The world knows it to their (I \nwas going to say) damnation ! It is true : for sinners \nplead as their excuse, the ungodliness of professors. \n\n\" May it be ours to walk worthy of our vocation. \nWe owe, indeed, ten thousand talents to the Lord ; \nand I feel that I have nothing to pay. And after all I \nshall have done and can do, I am an unprofitable \nservant ; and can only say, \n\nn the chief of sinneri am, \nBut Jesus died for me.j \n\n^ Surrounded as you are by multiplied cares, I pre- \nsume you steal away now and then ftota^W^v^V^^ \n4Hmrene with Qod in secret. If axi^ ^\\iet^^ Hx. ^^ ^N^^ \n\n\n\n286 if£MoiB or \n\nGod in secret, the soul must prosper; and there, if \ndenied all things else, the child of God finds a Father, \na Savior, a Comforter, a Friend, a Brother. May you \nfind your retirements places and seasons of washing \nand renewing of the Holy Ghost. \n\n\" How are all at 1 I have taken an interest m \n\nthat people ; not because they are Episcopalians ; no \nmore than I would .in Presbyterians, because they are \ntuch, but because some of them appeared to have the \nspirit of Christ. And I think I have been brought to \nthis, to seek to have Christians more holy ; and sin- \nners, yet unconverted, brought to Christ. Away with \nthe prejudice of names ! away, for ever ! The child of \nGod is my brother, my sister. The sinner, my fellow- \nsinner. The former let me love and serve, as of the \nhousehold of faith : the latter, let me labor to bring, \nwhere we would he, at the feet of Jesus. And here at \nhis feet we must lie, if on his throne we would sit \ndown. \n\n\" I might tell you that I have some pleasant retreats \nmto the huts aud smoky cabins of the poor of this re- \ngion. And there too, in some instances, piety in its \nmost radiant form is seen to shine forth. I should like \nto have you at some of my little meetings. The chil- \ndren of the highest seem happy, and I am happy in \ndoing them good. Thus let me live ; thus let its live« \nthus let us die. \n\n*' You have witnessed much of the bustle about La* \nfayette. He is a great man — worthy of esteem ! But \nin reading the accomit of his landing and reception \nm your city, I thought of our Jesus, the Son of Goct^ \nand jDquiredj if He should appear^ who would go our \nto meet him and help himl 'Wlio\\ie\\^^^Vvai^'ra<»!^ \n\n\n\nJAHE8 IBAIMERO TAYLOR. . 237 \n\ntne land of Judea ? But his triumph was great. Let \nus strive to be goodJ^ \n\nTo a beloved christian brother, who had recently \nvisited a place where God was blessing the church \nwith a glorious revival of religion, Mr. Taylor wrote \na letter abounding with pointed interrogatories, such \nas every Christian should attentively consider, and \nespecially when the tone of piety is low, and a state \nof backsliding appears in the church. \n\n\" Sept. 1. — Having been in the midst of so powerful \na work of God's Spirit, you have doubtless returned \nwith an increased solicitude for the Zion with which \nyou are so happily connected. Do you not find that \nit is the delight of your pastor to preach the word \nwith all plainness ? How are you blessed in having \nan overseer so desirous of the welfare of souls ! And \nbe assured, you cannot pray for him too much. The \napostle said, ' Brethren, pray for us.' Could you fol- \nlow your pastor, you would see that in all his labors \nhis heart cries out, ' Brethren, pray for me.' \n\n'* Inquiring concerning the pastor naturally leads \nto inquire after the flock. How is it, then, with the \nsheep 1 How is it with you, my brother ? Instead of \nengagedness, you may have become cold. Have you \neloped from those green pastures in which you were \nwont to feed ? Have you left those refreshing streams \nof which it was your delight to drink ? Ah ! what \ncomparison do the gaudy weeds of the world bear to \nthe sweet pasture which the good Shepherd has pro- \nvided ? And who would choose the t\\iTb\\x\\fi\\iX %vt«»ni% \nof Mease, in preference to ' the mt\\\\\\ vi^x^t^'^ q>^ V \n\n\n\n838 MBMOU OF \n\nlove ? But I hope better things of you : that you still \nwalk with God, and follow the Lamb whithersoever \nhe goeth. \n\n\" Many sheep compose the flock with which you \nfeed. Are they all in health? and do their souls pros- \nper? Do they feed contentedly and live healthfully? \nJa a large flock, how often are some sick ; how many \nwander and go astray ! What dissatisfaction with \nthemselves and all around them, arising from unfaith- \nfulness on their part to God, to their own souls, and \nthe souls of their brethren ? \n\n\" Were I with you at one of your little meetings, \nmethinks I would ask my brethren, and say to each, \nIs it well with thee ? Is it well with thee ? As my \nsoul rejoices in the prosperity of Zion, how would my \npraise awake at an answer in the affirmative ! How \nwould I send forth my voice in words of exhortation \nto the brothers or sisters in a luke-warm state ! And \nI would ask, what profit is there in robbing God? \nWhat advantage in loving the world ? What peace \nin dishonoring the Prince of peace, by indulging in \nsin? For it is sin, soul-blinding sin — sin, soul-ha- \nrassing sin, beloved sin, soul-damning sin, that has \nveiled the Sun of righteousness ; that has sent fearful \nforebodings of wrath into the soul, and stamped coti\" \ndemnation where once was light — where once was \npeace, reconciliation, and heaven. Were my soul in \nsuch a condition, wbuld you not say to me, * Return, \nthou backslider, rove no longer ; seek the Lord with \nthy whole heart?' And I would say further, Look, \nprecious soul, if thou hast ever had grace in thy heart, \nhow art thou fallen ! Do you not feat a final removal \n<7//Ae candlestick from its place 1 O ^v^Xi^uot ^^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAIMCRD TAYLOR. SS9 \n\nyour heavenly Father, no longer ; wound your Savior \nno more ; grieve not the Holy Spirit ; come and con- \nfess ; bow with penitence ; mourn with bitterness ; \nplead with faith ; procure pardon, peace, and holiness ; \nbe determined to have no more to do with sinful con- \nformity to the world, cost what it may ; make no com- \npromise with self; have no league with Satan ; in a \nword, deny thyself, take up thy cross, and follow \nChrist ; then you will show to the world that Christ \nJesus, as you profess, is all ; sinners will take warn- \ning at your example and precept; saints will com- \nmune with you ; God will bless, and heaven finally \nreceive your happy soul. Are convictions multiplied \namong you? Do sinners in Zion tremble ? \n\n\" I have much reason to praise our heavenly Father \nthat he hath kept me hitherto. He hath indeed made \nmy little room a Bethesda to my soul. Grace, mercy, \nand peace have been multiplied unto me ; and I now \nbless the Lord and take courage for time to come. \nHaving been blessed of God, it is our privilege — ^it is \nour duty — to look for greater blessings. From day to \nday may we be baptized with the Holy Ghost and with \nfire. The Lord send down his holy unction, and make \nus, more than ever, fit temples for himself to dwell in. \nThen we shall rejoice evermore, pray without ceas- \ning, and in every thing give thanks. \n\n^^ My afiectionate salutations to the brethren. Far»- \nwell. \n\n\" James B. Tatlob.'' \n\n\n\nCHAPTER ▼. \nSeeand Yearim CgtUge, \n\nMr. Taylor's fond afiectioii for his parents and \nfriends cannot for a moment be called in question ; \nand yet, thoofh he had not enjoyed their soeiety for \nfive j)^ six months, and was on his way to spend the \ncollege Tacation at home, when he arrived in New- \nYork, ** and fomid,'' to nse his own words, ^ diings \n\ninteresting under the labors of brother L , in the \n\nRey. Mr. Patton's church, the pastor being absent and \nlaborers needed, I, upon solicitation, joined brother \n\nL for a season. At the resurrection of the just it \n\nwill be known how many hare been gathered in. On \none evening thirteen expressed hope. The Lord bless \nthe lambs of the flock.\" \n\nAt the commencement of the college session we \nfind the following entry in his journal: \n\n^* Last night the Lord gave me — I cannot express \nIt — such an exercise as I never had before : a view of \nthe demerit of sin that sunk me lower than the lowest. \nAnd yet my soul exulted in Grod. \n\n^ Thus have I begun. May I find my winter loca - \ntion better than ever before — ^my health and my all aie \nat God's disposal. \n\n\" Nov. 14.— Upon a review of the past week, I find \nit fraught with loving kindness from the Lord. * Last \nevening bad a delightful seaEOn m T«ui«mh«xin^ the \nJamba of the flock in Mi.P-'a t\\wlTO\\^Nn3i^^V«Il\\ \n\n\n\nJAML3 BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 341 \n\nused lo meet on Saturday evenings. I love them for \nthe love they bear to Jesus, the Lamb of Grod. \n\n''At evening devotion had a singular exercise. \nWhile singing, my soul thirsted for a blessing. The \nthought suddenly entered my mind : ' If you neglect \nyour tea you may obtain the blessing which you seek.' \nI inquired whence is this ? Is it from God, or from the \ndevil ? But I concluded that the Lord's blessing came \nnot by a purchase of mine, and therefore that h<could \nas well bless me then as afterwards ; and I determined \nto throw myself at his feet and seek his favor, and thus \ndefeat the adversary who was ready to cheat me out \nof the blessing. My Father smiled upon me — the \nwork of grace was deepened — and my soul fed on man- \nna from above.\" \n\nTo pious students Mr. Taylor has left an illustrioua \nexample which should for ever banish the idea that \n(he sad decline in the life and fervor of piety so often \nmanifested in their college course, is necessary, or that \nIt is impossible in such circumstances to live a dero* \nted life, and make progress in religion. To a pioos \nfamily, to whom he frequently poured out ail his heart, \nafter giving a delightful narrative of what the Lord \nwas doing for his soul from day to day, he wrote : \n\n'^ Do not you rejoice that God has kept me hither- \nto ? With your rejoicing connect a doubling of your \nprayers that I may so live as to testify that the world \nis mistaken in the opinion, that Grod cannot be enjoyed \nin a course of study. If I do not grow in grace now^ \n\nwhen shall I ?\" \n\n2^ 4.\"^i%^\\«. \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n242 MEMOIR OP \n\nIt is both delightful and instructive to oDserve that, \nwhile he was striving continually to grow in grace \nand in the knowledge of Christ, and so to let his light \nshine, that others, seeing his good works, might glorify \nhis heavenly Father, he seemed almost as much en- \ngaged that others should walk worthy of Grod unto all \npleasing. To a beloved friend he wrote, Nov. 30, 1824, \n\n\" Has your soul been in health and prospered 1 I \ncould wish to be near you and hear the reply. \n\n^' Did you ever question whether I have been truly \nconverted 1 Perhaps you may have seen many things \nin me which might lead to such a conclusion ; but if \nnot to this, to another, viz. that I could not love God \nmuch, or that I showed to the world an ungodly walk \nand conversation. Well, I am ready to acknowledge \nmy errors ; will you point them out to me ? I will \ntake it as the highest mark of your affection for me \nand love to the cause of Christ, if you will tell me \nplainly all that you may have seen amiss in me. And \nwould you not wish your friends to do the same to \nyou ? But rather than offend you, I would get down \nat your feet and say what I purpose to write. \n\n\" My dear friend, for whom I have prayed, and \ngroaned, and wept ; as before God and the Lord Jesus \nChrist, I must warn you. Do you say of what? \nPause and think. Do you find nothiug out of the way ? \nWhat meaneth that lightness in your walk and con- \nversation ? Does it fit you for prayer in secret 7 Does \nit adorn the Christian ? Does it tell the world that \n70U love religion — that your thoughts are much on \nCfod and heaven ? Does it slicw V\\\\bl\\. v\\i^ ^o>il is walk- \ning with God— -that you maintam c\\o^^ wA VcL^waax^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEBD TAYLOg* 243 \n\neommunion with God? This may he the last time I \nmay he permitted to write to you. My hand may be \nin the grave : and I may now be too late — my friend \nmay have died. If alive, bear with my faithfulness ; \nfor it is in love, as I expect to meet you at the bar of \nJesus Christ. What meaneth these things ? O, I urge \nyou, I pray you — in Christ's stead, I beseech you to \njudge. But what saith the Scriptures? ^ Let every \none that nameth the name of Christ depart from ini- \nquity.' Is it not iniquity to disobey God ? And it is \nby keeping his commandments we know that we are \nborn of Grod and love him. The Savior says, ' If ye \nlove me keep my commandments.' * As he that hath \ncalled you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of con- \nversation. See then that yc walk circumspectly, not \nas fools, but as wise. Wo unto you that laugh now, \nfor ye shall weep. Let your laughter be turned into \nmourning. Let not jesting nor foolish talking he once \nnamed among you. Let all bitterness^ and wrath^ and \nanger^ and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away \nfrom you with all maliceJ Thus, my dear friend, you \nsee the will of the Lord concerning us. May I, and \nmay you be freed from every unhallowed thought, \nword, and action, and put on, as the elect of God, \nbowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, \nmieekness^ long-suffering , but, above all things, put \non charity — that the peace of God may rule in our \nhearts. \n\n\" My friend, if you are not satisfied with your hope, \nrest not till God shall speak your sins forgiven, and \nyou shall know that you are the Lord's. Come, let us \nset out afresh, examine ourselves, and rectify all that \n19 wrong. To do this, we must find out the wroi \n\n\n\n244 MEMOIR OP \n\nbring it before God, confess it, mourn over it, plead \nfor Christ's sake, for pardon, and wait for salvation* \nDo you pray for me ; I will pray for you ; and let us \nstrive to enter in at the strait gate.\" \n\nThe reader has observed how pleasantly and in- \nstructively the genuineness of Mr. Taylor's christian \ncharacter, and the elevation and enlargement of his \nchristian love have been exhibited in the fact, that his \nsoul paused not at all at those barriers which sectari- \nanism has raised between the different denominations \nof Christ's disciples. Christ was the object of his af- \nfections ; and wherever he saw the spirit and image \nof his blessed Master, thither his heart flowed out. In \nthe saints, the excellent of the earth, was his delight ; \naccordingly, we find much of his correspondence, in \nwhich glowed the purest flame of Christian love, was \nwith those who bore names diflerent from his own. \nThe following letter is of this description, and shows \nat the same time the regard he had to the word of \nGod, as his infallible guide and instructor : \n\n^'Nassau HaU, Dec. 5, 18524. \n\n** Brethren beloved, \n\n\" Does not the same afiection actuate us toward one \nanother, that filled the soul of the apostle towards his \nbrethren at Rome, when he said, * I would have you \nwise towards that which is good, and simple concern- \ning evil?' How like this is our Savioi's precept, 'Be \nwise as serpents, and harmless as doves.' \n\n\" While reading the other day the former passage \nIn conaectioa with the context, 1 ikoxi^ht of my breth- \n^Now 1 beseech you,\\)relY«eTi, m\\«VV)wtmNAiv^ \n\n\n\nfdji^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 245 \n\ncause divisions and offences, contrary^ to the doctrine \nwhich ye have learned, and avoid them. For they that \nare such serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own \nbelly ; and by good words and fair speeches deceive \nthe hearts of the simple. For your obedience is come \nabroad unto all men. I am glad, therefore, on your be- \nhalf; but yet I would have you wise unto that which \nis good, and simple concerning evil. And the God of \npeace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly.' \nWith the apostle I add the prayer, * The grace of our \nLord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.' \n\n\"But whence this wisdom? What saith the word ? \n' The holy Scriptures are able to make you wise unto \nsalvation, through faith which is in the Lord Jesus \nChrist.' Again, ^ The testimony of the Lord is sure, \nmaking wise the simple. How shall it be attained 1 \n*The letter killeth, but the Spirit maketh alive.' How \nmany read, and still are blind ! ^ But if any man'— any \nPresbyterian man, or any Church man, or any Metho- \ndist man, or Baptist man, or any other man, ^ lack wis- \ndom-, let him ask of Grod, who giveth to all men liberal- \nly, and upbraid eth not, and it shall be given him.' \nHere then is the source, the word of God, accompanied \nby the Spirit of God illuminating the mind and work- \ning powerfully in the soul. And the effect will be, \nwisdom that is profitable to direct, and the harmless- \nness of the dove. \n\n\"Let us appeal to the experience of those who can \ntestify. But for the tnUh, the word of God, what know- \nledge of salvation could we have ? But for the medium \nof access to God, the way of the sinner's return plainly \nmarked out, who before us, or with\\ia,'b\\xX'wo\\3\\^<^\\^^^^ \nbenighted in heathen lands, feel aftei Oo^*mN^m'\\ ^viX \n\nI \n\n\n\n346 MESKItB OP \n\nfor the command, ' Repent,' who would ever thine of it ) \nAnd unless conyinced of sin, of righteousness, and of \njudgment, by the Spirit of God, who would be broken- \nhearted ? But for the Lamb of Grod, held out lor the \ntaking away of sin, who would ever believe to the jus- \ntifying and sanctifying of their souls ? Here we see \nsomething of the value of the word and Spirit of Grod, \nso much slighted by the world. 'Whoso is wise, and \nwill observe these things, even they shall understand \nthe loving-kindness of the Lord.' \n\n\" In the sense of the Scripture, then, it seems that \nthat person is void of understanding, who knows not its \ncommands and the blessing consequent upon obedi- \nence, which blessing is the loving-kindness of the \nLord. \n\n\" Do we read, ' Repent — ^believe. Marvel not thai \nI said unto thee, ye must be born again. Walk be- \nfore me, and be ye perfect. Deny ungodliness aii4 \nworldly lusts ; and live soberly, righteously, and god* \nly in this present world. Love the Lord thy God wifk \nall thy heart.' If we may expunge one of these^ may \nwe not expunge them all ? But by so doing we take \nour names from the book of life. How much better \nto yield obedience. How much better ! O how \nsweet ! The soul that has been at the feet of Jesus, \nwishes to be often there ; for he knows the peace of \n€U)d that passeth knowledge. He that hath this ex- \nperience, hath what chaseth away all his fears, save \nthe holy filial fear of offending a holy, loving, indwell- \ning Father — the loyal fear that wishes to be submis- \nsive at the feet of King Jesus, who rules on the \nthrone of his kingdom, set up in \\Vi^ ^oxd— the sacred \nfear that trembles at the t>ious\\kX ot dA%\\\\);!^Yii%^^\\aSr \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEAD TAYLOR. 347 \n\nlowed breathings of that Spirit, whose temple is tho \nbody of the saint. How harmless such guests would \nmake the soul ! This fear is the fruit of love — and \nlove is the fulfilling of the Jaw. Well, this is all we \nwant, that is, in kind. We want, and shall for ever \nwant ; and we may for ever have more, in measure^ \nof God's love. O may we sink — sink, and sink, and \nsink into this ocean ; for this (a paradox to the world,) \nis the way to rise ; and it will carry us higher than \nthe stars, to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, \nand that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you \nwho are kept by the power of God, through faith, unto \na full and eternal salvation. We will talk of the rest \nwhen we shall walk the golden streets. Ah ! shall we \nsee each other there ? If you do not get so high above \nme that I cannot reach you. By the grace of God I \nhope to shine forth even there — a sinner saved by grace. \n\n\"A christian salutation to sister W. and the breth- \nren R. and R., whom with yourselves I beseech, for \nthe Lord Jesus Christ^s sake, and for the love of the \nSpirit, that ye strive together with me, in yourprayets \nto God for me. \n\n\" Farewell. In the best bonds, your brother, in our \nLord Jesus Christ, \n\n\"James B. Taylor.\" \n\nThe following was addressed to a colored woman, \nsince gone to her rest, at the advanced age of 116 \nyears — whom Mr. Taylor seems to have regarded as \none of the excellent of the earth, in whom he de- \nlighted. \n\n\n\n248 MmoiR OF \n\n\" PHnceton, Dee. 24, 1831 \n\n*' Aunt Sarah, perhaps, is expecting to hear from'lier \nfriend Mr. Taylor. Could I be with you for an hour, \nwe would converse upon things that perlaiu to the \nAngdom ; but you have a Friend on high, who deigns \nto visit your little room — nay, who takes up his abode \nin your heart — He has brought his Father with him , \nand the Holy Ghost, whom he promised to send, over- \nshadows and fills you. By and by, you will exchange \nyour cottage for a palace ; you will lay aside your gar- \nments below, ' to walk in white above.' Instead of \nprayer, you will be all praise. Instead of seeing Jesus \nby faith, you will see him as he is, face to face. Do \nyou not exult in the prospect of dying — dying in the \narms of Jesus, and of going to your Father, God? \nThere, too, you will meet those who died in faith, and \nsome with whom you have sung, and prayed, and wept \nbelow. And this is the sweetness of it — the place, the \nscene, will never close. Those that enter in shall go \nno more out. \n\n\" You will be glad to hear that the Lord blesses me \nwith his presence — my soul is in health and prospers — \nstill help me in your prayers for me, that I may indeed \nbe a man of God — one in whom God will delight to \ndwell — and one whom Grod will deign to honor in \nbringing sinners to Christ. \n\n^' Should the Lord continue you, I trust you will \nhave a happy new year ; but if he should take yo« \nhence, it will be thrice happy. Farewell, \n\n\"J. B. Taylor.*^ \n\nOf the same date, but a \\\\ti\\e Va ^\\i\\ACAv^>\\»tw ^^^^t \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERfi TA7L0R. 248 \n\ntime, we find Mr. Taylor's new-year's letter to his pa- \nrents, brothers, and sisters. \n\n. ''Nassau HaU, Dec. 24, 1824. \n\" Endeared Parents, Brothers, and Sisters, \n\n\" The time has arrived for my annual gift ; and, in \nanticipation, I wish you a happy new-year. Should it \nnot be realized on earth, who of us doubts but it would \nbe enjoyed at the right hand of God ? \n\n* There everlasting spring abides, ^ \n\nAnd never withering flowers : \nDeath, like a narrow sea, divides \nThis heayenly land from ours.' \n\n\" To say that this may be the last epistle of this \nkind that I shall write, you know is to say wha$ the \nclosing year naturally suggests. But it may be that \nthe Lord of the vineyard has designed me as an un- \nder-dresser. \n\n\" The close of the year generally finds men of busi- \nness engaged in adjusting their accounts. Would it \nnot be well for us, as stewards in the house of GU)d, \nand transacting business for our unseen Lord, to in- \nquire of each other, * How much owest thou unto my \nLord V My father, my brother, my sister, how much \nowest thou? James, son, and brother, how much owest \ntJiou? \n\n\" How great is our debt as a family ! In common \nwith other families, we have enjoyed food, and rai- \nment, and house, and home, and friends. The same \nsocial privileges, the same civil and religious liberty, \nhave been given unto us as to our neigVibots. kx!A>xcL- \nder heaven where is there a family moxeYAea^^^ ^V^ \n\n\n\n250 mMom or \n\nfellow-feeling — more united to advance one another to \ntne upper kingdom? What hath €rod wrought? To \nhim be all the glory. \n\n\" But the past year has been fraught with loving- \nkindness and tender mercies! His mercy! Oitreach- \neth to the clouds. \n\n<^ Not less as individuals, than as a family, do we \nowe unto the Lord. In looking over the past year, \nwhat a train of good hath followed, and in good order ! \nProsperity hath been in the borders of each. How it \nhath been with you in particular circumstances yon \nwill remember upon a review. What health continued \n^-what dangers escaped — what trials have been sanc- \ntified to wean you from the world — ^what lessons learn- \ned by experience, whereby we are able to do more, \nand with greater facility, for Grod and each other — \nwhat seasons of refreshing from the presence of the \nLord, both in secret, in the family, and in the great \ncongregation ! \n\n'' As for me, the Lord, that heareth the young ravens \nwhen they cry, and taketh care of the sparrows, hath \nheard and taken care of me. As fully and as season- \nably as he hath remembered them, so hath he admin- \nistered to me. Yes, I have not wanted any good thing; \nI have all and abound. How unlike my blessed Mas- \nter ! When wandering up and down, he had not where \nto lay bis head. But he makes my couch for repose, \nand imparts sweet sleep— and besides, as a pillow \nsofter than down, he gives me to lean upon his arm \nand rest on his bosom. It is impossible for me to de- \nscribe the communion into which he hath admitted me \nwith himself during the pa&t ^eax, \n''Have we not all been T\\peuvugio\\\\ieviwi*X \"^A^o^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR, 251 \n\nmuch have we grown in grace and better acquaintance \nwith our own hearts and with our God ? \n\n\" How much owe we unto our Lord ? ' More than \nten thousand talents.' And what have we to pay ? All \nthat we have, does it not belong to God ? How then \nshall the debt be cancelled ? We must not say, Lord, \nbe patient, and I will pay thee all ; but fall down and \nrejoice that for Christ's sake God hath forgiven all our \nsins — the whole debt. For one, I feel constrained to \nsay, thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the \npit of corruption, for thou hast cast all my sins behind \nthy back. \n\n\" Let it be our aim to keep ourselves in the^ love of \nGod. God is love, and love is the fulfilling of the law. \nLove, then, should be the reigning passion of our souls. \nThis is the grace that never faileth. \n\n\" Respecting ourselves as a family, and as indivi- \nduals, if we ^ seek first the kingdom of God and his \nrighteousness,' we may expect the good hand of our \nGod still to be upon us for good, in this the house of \nour pilgrimage. Whatever then is neglected, let not \nour souls suffer. But I think, as our souls are in health \nand prosper, so our daily business will succeed, and \nthat to the glory of God. And may those committed \nto our care be greater sharers in our exertions, as \nthough the next were to be our last year; for, indeed, \nif not to all, it may prove such to some. Let us each \ninquire, *Lord, is it II' May we strive together more \nin our prayers for one another. On Mondays I think \nof you all more particularly than at other times ; and \nI have had nearness of access to God in pleading for \nthose I love. \nff Who can tell hut we may contrive aomex\\i\\u^\\vv« \n\n\n\n252 BEEMOUt OF \n\nwhereby to do good ; or exert ourselves more in jnn- \nsuing former plans ? Let us in all things lire to God, \nand eat, drink, sleep, and act for his glory. \n\n\" The succeeding year may prove to be a jubilee to \nmultitudes of souls. For this om pray er^ not our words \nmerely should ascend, for our own sanctification, and \nfor the purification of the church visible also. Let us, \nas much as in us lies, feed the hungry, clothe the \nnaked, and help the helpless. As for our enemies, love \nthem and do them good, for did not Christ manifest \nhis love for us, while we were enemies ? He died for \nthe ungodly. Let us be peace-makers. Be kindly affec- \ntioned one toward another. Love as brethren. If in life \nwe are undivided, cemented in love, in death we shall \nnot be sundered. May you all find the grace of hope \nfilling you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye \nmay abound in hope through the power of the Holy \nGhost. And should I sink, as I deserve, may you rise \nto life. The Lord give you, every one, an entrance \nabundantly into his everlasting kingdom, and there \nmay our united hallelujahs resound to God and the \nLamb for ever and ever. If not before, I hope to meet \nyou in one of the many mansions. Adieu. Your affec- \ntionate son and brother, \n\n\"James B. Taylor.\" \n\n• To his Cousin M A . \n\n\n\n''Princetarit Dee, 23, 1834. \n\"Notwithstanding my long silence, my thoughts \nhave often flown across hill and dale to your habita- \ntion, with the inquiry, how is it with M. A. ? \n\n\"Doubtless it has been weW VwVi -^om ^\\V Vvvt da:^ \nlong^ Had I before me this e^^mn^ «^ n\\k^ ^^ ^^va \n\n\n\nJAMES BHAINERD TAYLOR. 253 \n\nexercises since we parted, perhaps I should discover \nyou shut out from the world, and at the same time \ns)iut up in the love of God. O Avhat place is like that \nID which the soul is blessed with intimate holy com- \nmunion with QoA our Father, and with his Son Jesus \nChrist, through the indwellmg of the Holy Ghost 7 \nHless the Lord that our souls are not strangers to such \nvisits of love. The world knoweth them not, but unto \nus our God hath revealed the hidden mystery. \n\n\"At another time I should discover you holding \nsweet converse witli some dear child of God, who with \nyourself has drunk deep into his love. What harmony \nbetween souls that vibrate in unison when touched \nwith love divine I \n\n\" At another time in your class or in the congrega- \ntion ; and there too you have renewed your strength. \nHow good the good Shepherd is ! he feeds his sheep. \nHow kind our Elder Brother ! he supplies our wants. \nHow powerful our King ! he subdues our foes. And \nthrough all our journey we may expect that the Lord \nwill provide. \n\n\" If indeed you have been thus favored at home and \n\nabroad, you have gone up in the way of holiness. And \n\ndoes not your purpose to follow on to know the Lord \n\nstand firm ? Yes, my dear cousin, better things are \n\nIioped of you than of some who seemed to run well for \n\na time. And from what the Lord has discovered to us \n\nof his goodness, we are looking for still greater things ; \n\nfor the path of the just is as the shining light that \n\nshineth more and more to the perfect day. Verily, I \n\nbelieve there is such a blessing as sinking into the \n\nlove of God, la thinking on this subject, IVvaN^coraik- \n\npared the love of Gfod to an ocean •, and a\\3L\\>\\>ow^^ \n\n22 j.ii.'VvL^ot- \n\n\n\n254 MCjjoia or \n\nmyself on the surface of this great deepi I could inift- \ngine myself sinking and sinking — bot how far ? O \nthere are attainments in holy love which we hare not \nyet made I May we sink, and sink, and sink, and so \nget ont of the sight and influence of the world, and \nout of the reach of the deril. \n\n\" My little room still witnesses the manifestations \nof God in melting my soul into love and tenderness ; \nso that in testimony of his favor I tell you thai I am \nou my journey. Christ, as King, reigns on the throne \nof my heart. I have a consciousness of reconciliation, \nand am waiting for an unction from the Holy One, \nmore and more to sink me into the ocean. Goo is \nLove. \n\n\" Having heen feasted at the rich banquets of our \nLord, we long to see a multitude come and possess \nmore than we have enjoyed. O, when shall the sons \nof Levi — when shall ministers of the Gospel be more \nhuly ; — when shall the church, as a hodij, put on tliis \nbeautiful garment ? \n\n\" Are there those with you, who ' hunger and thirst \nafter righteousness?' May they expect to * he filled;'^ \nand not linger, but eat of the bread of life, and drink \nof tlie wells of salvation, till satisfied, \n\n\" How sweet a frame is this : to have the simple \nlanguage of the soul — more love — enlarge the vessel, \nand give me more — more faith — more meekness — more \n\nH0L1NK6S. \n\n^^ Day by day, may our souls rest under the smiles \n\nof our Father God, and God the Son. May Jesus \n\nbreathe on us, and say, 'Receive ye the Holy Ghost;' \n\nand ieeling that our bodies arc his temples, may we \n\nkeep them under — walk as becomeW ^^iXsvv^— ^& Oo5\\- \n\n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN EBD TAYLOR. 255 \n\ndren of the day and not of the night. Be it ours in all \nthings to keep consciences void of offence. To do this, \nwe may often give offence to man, but in the sight of \nheaven we shall be harmless as doves. \n\n\" Soon we shall be done with things below. Till \nthen, we shall be sheep— pilgrims — soldiers ; sheep in \nthe midst of wolves — pilgrims through a wilderness to \na city out of sight — and soldiers for the Lord of hosts, \n{jet us then feed by our Savior's side, who as the \ngood Shepherd cares for his sheep. Let us run and \nnot be weary — let us fight and conquer. Then comes \nthe crown : in company with my cousin I expect to \nwear it. \n\n\" My mind is intent upon the work before me. Strive \nwith me in your prayers, that 1 may receive a com- \nmission from the Lord, as well as from man, by being \nOiled with the Holy Ghost. \n\n\" As ever, your affectionate cousin, \n\n\"James B. Taylor.*' \n\nTo Miss W . \n\n\n\n\" Nassau HaU, Dec. 30, 1824. \n** Very dear friend and sister, \n\n''Remembering your injunction not to forget the New \nYear's letter, I again wish you, in anticipation, a hap- \npy New Year. \n\n\" At the close of a year, the thought naturally arises, \nhow many, who started with us at the commencement \nof this year, are no more in the land of the living? \nAnd the prospect of as many dying the year just \nabout to begin, is as serious as the fact xYv^siX \\\\io\\s&^xv\\s \nImre fallen into their graves — appeateA \\i^^v>\\^ xXv^'vl \n\n\n\nS56 MEMOIB OP \n\nJudge^sunk to hell, or been raised to hearen durini; (he \npast year. Among those who shall yield to the de- \nstroyer before the close of the next year^ we may be \nnumbered. \n\n\" Reriewing the past year, I find it fraught with \nblessings temporal and spiritual. I hare just left pe* \nrasing the records of God's goodness tome— and coald \nI tell you all, you would say with me, ' O that men would \npraise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonder* \nful works to the children of men.' But I will not at- \ntempt a narration. Suffice it to say, I am under in- \nfinite obligations to love God more than ever. And I \nhope you will still strive with me in your prayers to \nGod for me, for an increase of faith, hope, love joy, \nmeekness, humbleness of mind, holy zeal, and boldness \nfor God. \n\n\" I should rejoice to have an hour's interview with \nyou, as in former days, to bear you tell of the loving- \nkindness of the Lord. But it is unspeakable and full \nof glory. It is with you as with some others, who can \nlook forward to another world as a place to recount \nall. What awaits us on Zion's hill, I leave for you to \nimagine. And may your soul get further within the \nveil, and nearer to the throne of love. \n\n\" As usual, I suppose you are in the midst of gayety \nand fashion. Do you find those professors, whose \nminds are taken up with outward ornament, best deco- \nrated within. I suppose you conclude with me, that \na clean heart seeks the ornament of a meek and quiet \nspirit, which is so honorable in the sight of God, and \ntfo esteemed by the holy, rather than the embellish- \nments of ^rt which man honors 1 \n'*Misa W, every day's obaerfaxVoiv eoMNvcvr^v^^ ts«. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 257 \n\nmore and more that piety is not always connected with \na profession. It costs hut little (in this world) to be \n, united in form to God's people. In another, the hypo- \ncrite will find that he has been playing the fool with \nhis soul at a dear rate. While others trust in forms, \nmay we have the power of godliness. While some \ntfhare only in the name, be it ours to possess the vir- \ntue of Christians — Christians justified and sanctified. \nWhile others feed on husks, may we eat the true bread. \nWhile others grasp at golden ore, and are unsatisfied \nlet us obtain the true riches. \n\n\" As this may be our last year, we should be excited \nto do our utmost for our Master. How many are around \nus that we can benefit? We still liye, and they are \non the footstool of mercy. What we would do for them \nand for ourselves must be done quickly. I heard of \nthe death of one of late, which caused me to ask, \ncould not I have done something for him ? But he is \ngone. \n\n\" Who can tell but some one of the young ladies of \nyour household shall be followed to the grave ere the \nclose of the next year ? I know you wish to meet them \nat the right hand of the Judge ; but are they anxious \nto meet you there ? There is danger, it seems to me, \ndanger of their retaining their unregenerated hearts, \nand carrying them to the bar of God. And who ever \nreturned to tell us that an impenitent sinner ever got \nrid of his wicked heart, after passing the threshold of \neternity ? Ah ! his once proffered Friend is now his \nenemy — his state is fixed — he is lost — he is damned \nfor ever ! \n\n\" A word to the young ladies. TYie ^^m x^%X. \\% \n^one has witnessed the long-sufTeTing \"patieue^ oi C^^ \n\n22* \n\n\n\n25S MEMOIR OF \n\nto US ; while others are beyond hope, we ure still pri- \nsoners of hope. The oppormnity is offered us to flee \n10 the strong hold — even to Christ. Commencing a \nueiv era of time, would it not be well to secure the \nfavor of the Most High, and let fature days or years \nbear witness to your allegiance to the King of kings ? \nIn answering this question, take into consideration \nliic need you will have of Christ in the solemn scenes \nof the death-bed, the grave, and the judgment. \n\n'* But, Miss W. farewell ! A Christian salutaiion \nto the friends of Christ. Affectionately yours, \n\n\" James B. Taylor.\" \n\nDiary. — \" Awoke this morning with a heavenly \nsweetness, and took my usual walk as it began to \ndawn. Endeavored to follow Christ in his humilia- \ntion. This passage has been of comfort to me during \nthe disturbance in college, and I have considered it a \nstronger defence than a wall. 'Whoso hearkeneth \nunto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from \nthe fear of evil.' \" \n\nAs Mr. Taylor closed the former year, so, with the \nspirit of genuine piety, he began the new year with \nGod. Perhaps no man more strictly complied with \nthe injunction, \" In all thy ways acknowledge him*/' \nand none seemed more confidently to expect the ful- \nfillment of the promise, \" He shall direct thy paths.'' \nThe commencement of his diary for this year is an in- \nteresting and instruct ve exhibition of his obedience \nand faitii in this respect. \n\n'' Jan. 1 1S25.— -That ascioxVvex '^ «ax \\\\u.\"& \\^\\\\t^ ^>n«s \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAINEBD TAYLOR. 259 \n\nIS to me no matter of regret. In time, and bejrond time, \nit will be remembered as a season of distinguishing \nmercy. Thanks to the good Shepherd for ' the green \npastures ' of the past year : to my heavenly Father, for \nhis smiles : my Comforter, for his presence. \n\n\" What will occur this year is hid from mortal man. \nBut O, it is in the mind of the omniscient God. And \nthis God is my God, to whom I am willing to refer \nall, both for myself and others. That he is on the \nthrone, is enough for me. And his glory he will not \ngive to another. \n\n\" Direct me, O Lord, in the right way. Lead me \nin a plain path all paved with love — the path that \nleadeth upward, and reacheth the land of rest — the \nway of holiness — the King's highway. \n\n\" I believe there are richer blessings in store for \nme ; if not on earth, in heaven. And the Lord's will \nbeing done, it is not a matter of much concern to me \nwhether on earth or in heaven. But should my life \nbe spared this year also, may my soul sink — and sink — \nand sink into God, day by day. Then I shall grow in \ngrace, and in the knowledge of the Lord Jesus — deny \nmyself, take up my cross, and follow Christ — live to \nGod — ^be a light in the world — salt of the earth — wise \nas a serpent, harmless as a dove — spiritual, and not \ncarnal. \n\n\" O that the lives of my relatives who are not yet \nfcr God, might be spared, to repent this year, and come \nto Christ ; that my friends, who love the Lord, may \nhonor him more, by bringing forth much fruit. May \nthis year be a favored season for Zion. \n\n'^ Lord, increase piety in the tootcfimeu. '^^^^ ^<b \n§uitder'sh»pkerd$ carefnJ oi the flock. lHa.^ \\Ve ^mmS \n\n\n\n260 MEMOIR OF \n\nbe purified. Let souls be joined to the Lord in thou- \nsands. Prepare candidates for the holjr ministry for \ntheir office. Make all that come after more holy and \nself-denying than those who have gone before. Pre- \npare me eminently to win souls to Christ, and build up \nthe church. This is all I ask in this world in regard to \nmy relation to smners. For thee would I labor; for \nthee, O Christ, would I die, rather than be a hinder- \nance to thy cause. But here I am ; do with me as \nseemeth good in thy sight. Thy will be done.'* \n\nTo Rev. Mr. S . \n\n\n\n'' I must tell you that the time passes, for the most \npart, sweetly, peacefully, and sometimes with joy and \nexultation. Perhaps, since I have been in college, I \nhave not enjoyed more steadily the presence of ottr \nLord than I do now. My studies are more agreeabli:. \nand my engagements are so regular, that I forget the \nday of the month, and sometimes have to pause for \nthe day of the week. Come and interrupt me. I say \ncome, if the Lord will. However glad I should be to \nsee my brother, more happy would I be to have him, \neven from me, in the pathway of duty. Eternity is \nbefore us. In time we may yet spend happy days to- \ngether. Beyond time, we will hope to sit down toge- \nther in the kingdom of God. And though I would \nnot be light on so sacred a theme, will you not, then, \nintroduce me to some whom, under God, you have \nsent thither? With what double ardor should we raise \nour sails and ply our oars ! Are you not among the \nCiTMftrAc of Jesus Christ — a rouer-minister. (1 Cor. \n) May the Captam du^ci >jwxx ewvi^^. '^-^jj \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 861 \n\nyou keep a good look-out — run clear — ship multitudes \n— enter the haven fully laden — cast anchor and ba \nsafely moored for ever. Pray that I also, with wide* \nspread sail, may be wafted over to the heavenly port, \nthe New Jerusalem. The good Spirit blow upon and \nfill our sails.\" \n\nDiary. \" Jan. 13. — ' His loving-kindness, O how \ngreat !' Have just risen from the floor, where my peace \nwas like a river. I longed for more of God ; for a \nsuitable preparation for the work of an evangelist. I \nfelt myself a worm, and no man ; but, blessed be the \nLord, I am in his hands. Here would I lie, and wait \nand long for his direction from day to day. I love the \ntruth, and long to be more and more sanctified through \nit. Praise the Lord for holiness — for a clean heart. \nMay I keep myself in the love of God. \n\n*' 16th.— The past week— this is Sabbath— has been \nfraught with loving-kindness and tender mercy — and \nbase ingratitude. After the rich blessing of last Thurs \nday, my spirit, before morning, was shorn of its \nstrength, by what has so often shrouded my soul in \ndarkness. But the Lord healed my backsliding. ' If \nany man sin, we have an Advocate with the Father ;' \nand ' if we confess our sins, he is £Eiithful and just to \nforgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrigh- \nteousness.' He brought me to exercise confidence in \nGod, and my soul was restored. Alas ! that I should \nlefive the Lord and wander from the fountain. Make \nme, Lord, to know wisdom from my past falls, and \nmay I set a double watch and repel my foes. Blessed \nbe the Lord God; the God of Israel, v^Vio oid\\^ ^q^^^^sw \nwondrous thiaga ; and blessed be V\\\\s VioVf \"Mkiccv^ ^^ \n\n\n\n862 MEMOIR OF \n\never. Had, between ten and eleven oVlock A. M. a \nblessing of blessings. Took up the Memoirs of the \ndear Brainerd, and followed him through part of ha \nlast sickness. When I came to his interview with a \nclergyman concerning the great importance of the \nwork of the ministry, my heart broke ; it had heaved \nbefore, but now it melted and overflowed with unut- \nterable emotions, while floods of tears ran down mine \neyes. The importance of the work increased in my \napprehension, while, in my own view, I was but a \nworm, and no man ; yet I longed to preach the Gos- \npel ; I thirsted to labor in God's vineyard ; to be an \nunder-shepherd was my only desire ; and the thought \nof ever relinquishing the glorious object increased still \nmore my emotions, while my place seemed to be in \nthe duat — nay, if justice should take its course, thf* \nlowest hell. \n\n^^ Here I felt such an exercise as I am not conscious \nof having ever experienced before — a rising of soul to \nGod ; and being filled with love, until I yielded myself \nup entirely to his disposal, to live or die, labor or not, \nI fell before Grod, and acknowledged his blessing with \nthanksgiving. \n\n\" I soon repaired to the hall for worship. Had not \nbeen seated long before a heavenly breeze wafted my \nsoul to higher communion with God. Never till then \ndid I so feel the import of the pnssage, ' I am sick of \nlove.' The sermon was attended with power to my \nsoul. Thank the Lord for so faithful a servant as the \npreacher appeared to be. He seemed to be one who \nhad drank at the fountain of holiness, and lived on an- \ngePs food; hence I came «Lwa^ -wVxVi. \\Vw^ eouviction \nfhat /iolineaa^holines9\\ \\s tVi^ sx\\i\\i^ %<i«^v ^K *^^v^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 263 \n\npreaching. Upon this point my mind has been much \nexercised lately ; and I bless God that I am becoming \nmore and more conformed to him. The thought was \nsuggested, * What will you do when you become a \npreacher? You will not be fluent.' My answer was, \nat which I take courage, 'In the Lord have I righte- \nousness and strength ;' and I charged myself not to \nfear, for the Lord is my light and my salvation. No : \nI have nought to fear but offending God. I may take \ncourage : onward let me go, * redeeming the time,' \nJiving as becomelh one whom the Lord thus favors. \nHow much depression and gloom rested upon Brain- \nerd — none upon me. I hardly know what it is. Health \nof body too is mine. O to lay it all out for God ! \n\n\" 17th. — Since Sabbath I have, for the most part, en- \njoyed a sweet savor of divine things ; but this evening \nthe Lord has come of a truth, to deepen his work in \nmy soul. The effect seemed to be \n\n* The speechless awe that dares not movci \nAnd all the silent heaven of love.' \n\nIncense had been burning through the day. My will- \ning soul looked upward, I longed for a deepening of \nthe work of grace* Peace, in steady stream, glided me \nalong; but my soul thirsted for God, for the living \nGod. Sat down and opened the word, and read, 'Jesus \nstood and cried. If any man thirst, let him come unto \nme and drink.' JesUs ! O, at that name what emotions \narose ; his loveliness ; his condescension. My soul \nmelted, and was filled with love. \n\n\" What most occupied my mind, was my anticipated \n\noffice. O ! it is more and more magnVfted \\tv tva>} V\\«^ • \n\nAnif as It gathers greatness, I long for iVve be^x. v\\wcXv- \n\n\n\n264 MEMOIR or \n\ntication for it — holiness. More of late than formerly \ndoes this subject call forth strong cries and tears. I \nnow feel in my soul, 'Who is suJQ^ient for these \nthings?' Shall I be left to prove a drone among the \nchurch's watchmen? Shall I live as I see many mi- \nnisters live ? Forbid it, Lord. They are ciphers when \nthey ought to be thousands. And what lukewarmness \n— what apathy— what worldly-mindedness, pervade \ncandidates for the ministry ! \n\n\"How I longed for full preparation for the work; \nand of the kind the Lord would have me possessed of. \nAnd rather than live to prove a curse to the church, \nby being a mercenary — worldly — and thus, a soul' \ndamuing minister, I would now be removed. But the \ngreat Head of the church is breathing on me from time \nto time. He gives me the holy anointing; he sends \nsweet longings for his glory — holy jealousy for his \nhonor. On him let me still lean and cast every care. \nThen I felt willing to relinquish all for Christ, to go \nany where, and to be any thing for him. And he \nshowed me his countenance, and my strength was \nrenewed. \n\n\" Sitting under the word this evening, honey from \nthe rock dropped upon me. O, how good ! The rest \nis already begun — the earnest is given — it is withlx. \nIf I should say, I know him not, I should lie, and do \nnot the truth ; for I feel that I know God and his Son \nJesus Christ, and am known of him. O, when shall I \nsee him as he is? When shall I from earth away? \n' O, glorious hour !' I am expecting his chariot; yet \nmy prevailing preference is, if the will of the Lord be \nso, to live and do the wotk o? «iti et>augel\\«t^^Tvd make \nfull proof of my raiDislTY •, and X-Vi^xi x\\v«t^ ^V^^\\\\i^ %». \n\n\n\nJAMES BRJUllteRO TAYLOR. S65 \n\neternity still. The will of the Lord be done. The \nkingdom is his — the work is his — and the glory is his. \nAmen, and amen.\" \n\nTo a young Christian : \n\n\" January 23, 1825. \n\n\" Soon a year will have gone by since that evening \nwhen you thought you ' determined to know nothing \nsave Jesus Christ and him crucified.' Has the before \nbarren fig-tree brought forth fV]uit corresponding with \nthe transplanting and cultivation ? Once in the barren \nsoil of the world — now in the garden of God ; once as \na sheep going astray — but now returned unto the Shep- \nherd and Bishop of souls. Can the world bring in their \ntestimony that you laid out yourself more in unrighte- \nousness than the people of Qod can that you spend \nyourself in holy living ? As a tree planted by the river \nside— as a sheep in green pastures — as the sun at its \nmeridian — so you should bring forth fruit a hundred- \nfold. Always abound in spiritual health, and shine re- \nsplendently in your every-day walk and conversation. \n\n\" I have before me some mottos, and I will tran- \nscribe them for you : \n\n' Whatever you do, do it for God.' \nFor thee, Lord, for thee.* \nI0 this lawful t* \nIs it beoomiugT* \nIs it expedient?' \n\nI will add another — \n\n*How will this appear to me on my ftsVn^VM^T \nWhen Mugbt is presented, to be, to do^ or to sujfer^ \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n266 MfiMOlR OP \n\nwe may apply these tegta as in the light of Qod't \nword, and in view of the relations we sustain to him, \nto the church, and to the world, and decide. \n\n\" Ever retiring^ fubmissivej mild^ let us act the \npart of little children, and so carry about with us the \nspirit of Jesus, whose plan of benevolence, having been \ndevised, is now going on in its accomplishment. In the \ntemple that is going up on the foundation rock Christ \nJesus, let us try, by co -working with God, to have at \nleast one nail in the building. \n\n\" With earnest desire that you may be holy, harm- \nless, undefiled, and thus Christ^like, I say, press for- \nw^rd^ and as you go onwearcL, look wpward.^^ \n\nDiary. <' Jan. 23. \n\n* Love diyiue, ail love exGelliDg.* \n\n\" This has been a high day to me. The Lord of Uie \nSabbath has remembered me for good ; and I praise \nhis name. But how shall I record his visits of love 1 \nThey surpass my powers of description. There is a \ncertain something which is known only to those who \nhave felt the same, that requires a higher language \nthan mine to express. \n\n\" The exercises in the hall were profitable. My soul \nwas drawn out in prayer for a fitness for the work of \nGod in his vineyard, and melted with longings, not \n\nonly for myself, but for brother M , that God would \n\nmake us eminently meet to do his will. \n\n*•' After preparing for Bible recitation, took the Me- \nmoirs of Whitefield and read o^ \\\\\\^ Vi^vck^ ^ blessing \nto ministers^ Ac- when a l\\\\ow«,\\iX <:xo%^^^ tK>i wyvw^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEKD TAYLOR. 267 \n\nwhich was as an arrow dipped in poison. When I \ncame to analyze it, it appeared to amount to this . \n' What is the use of striving to win souls ? you will \nnever gain as many as he did.' The effect was (for it \nseems I gave place to the devil) the removal of that \nardent thirst for preparation which I felt before. I took \nthe alarm and chided myself— fell before the Lord, \nand acknowledged all ; and I felt that that sinful \nthought was enough to separate me from the love and \nfavor of God for ever — I could urge no plea, but the \nonce-suffering, bleeding, dying Savior; and through \nhim I could discern that the Lord had only forsaken \nme in a little wrath, and that with everlasting kind- \nness he would draw me. My heart melted a little ; \nand then I could recollect with thankful remem- \nbrance the blessing with which I was visited, two \nyears and nine months ago, about the hour I was then \nbefore the Lord. As yet, the longing to preach the \nGbspel, and anxiety for fruitfulness, and solicitude for \nfull preparation, had not re-entered my heart, nor did \nI know that they would ever return again. I felt that \nI did not deserve this grace ; and that God was under \nno obligation to bestow it — and that it was my folly \nthat had brought me into this condition. Here I ven- \ntured to ask the Lord his will concerning me ; and \nthat if it were his will that I should possess zeal for \nbis glory and a longing desire to preach the Gospel, \nhe would then show it me. I looked, and waited, and \nprayed — and the answer came, and in a measure which \nperhaps I never felt before — all else seemed vain. O \nthe heavings of my inmost soul to be this one things \nVIZ. an under-shepherd. Then the inqmi^ wo%t\\\\*w^^ \nsIuUJ I ever preach the Gospel 1 L^otd, nm \\ «i ^iVo^ \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\n268 MEMOIR OF \n\nvessel ? Whether it was an answer or not, I took it to \nbe such, and in the affirmative. I feel willing to life \na hundred years on earth, if I might work for God \nand bring souls to Christ, and then have nothing di* \nrainished from eternity. O who would not live a \nthousand years, if it were the will of God ? Let me \nbe no more anxious about living or dying ; but let me \nlive unto the Lord, that when I die, I may die unto the \nLord. \n\n\" From the experience of to-day, learn, my soul, \never to apply to the fountain as soon as a stain is con- \ntracted, and with double earnestness. Rather learn to \nlive so near as to drink for the keeping away all ma- \nladies, and for constant refreshing. \n\n^^ 27th. — Last week was invited to attend a party, \nbut had no inclination to comply — no, my soul was \ntoo much set on heavenly, to desire the earthly enter- \ntainment ; and so long as eternal things are pressing \nupon me, I think I shall find no tfme to devote to the \ngay circle. Instead of mingling with that circle, was \ncalled to speak for my Lord to a company of females. \nThe Lord melted some of the audience, and I have \nnow returned from seeing one who felt the word spo- \nken. Endeavored to be faithful to a student of theo- \nlogy who called on me. Alas ! at how low an ebb is \npiety among candidates for the ministry ! Lord, save \nme from the contagion. He made a long acknowledg- \nment of his coldness, but at the same time mingled \nwith it many fashionable excuses. He did not tarry \nlong. I pressed him to do his duty, and come out and \nlive for God. May conviction drive him to his closet \nand to his knees, until he £ud the reviving influences \nof the Spirit. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 209 \n\n*^ Endeavored to arouse two fellow-students to more \nlife — alas ! for professors of religion here, \n\n'* 28th. — Spent part of last evening in visiting the \n\npoor with brother . One poor old colored man, \n\nwhom we found in deep happy poverty, seemed near \nto the kingdom of heaven. He said, among other \nthings, that he had rather be as he was, with Jesus in \nbis soul, than to be a king upon a throne. \n\n'^ At evening devotion, read a part of the last chap- \nter of John. To the question, ^Lovest thou me?' I \ncould appeal to the Lord with melting of soul. Hen- \nry's remarks were profitable. I fell before the throne, \nand had a longing for souls — I thirsted to bring souls \nto Christ. I groaned to win souls, and almost with \nagony pleaded to have souls for my hire. I think 1 \nfelt willing to lay out my life for souls. Money is not \nwhat I desire. Souls, souls, I want souls. * Give me \nchildren,' was my pry, and I wept with desire to say \nat last, ' Here am I, Lord, and the children thou hast \ngiven me.' \n\n\" I left my plea before the Lord for the coming Sab- \nbath, when I expect to go out to my little meeting — \nmay preparation for the seed be made by some fore- \nrunner — may the seed be sowed skillfully, sink deep, \ntake root, and spring up, and bear fruit. \n\n\" Feb. 7. — On Friday concluded on a subject for \nSaturday night, on which to speak to the congregation \nthat expected me. Went and delivered my message, \nafter a rich visitation from God, at evening devotion ; \nand it proved a message of God to souls. Yesterday \nwas the Sabbath, and it was a day of rest to me, al- \nthough I labored for God. Anticlpatitkg xxv^ tcw^^^vcl'^ ' \nin the afternoon and evening, I comimUe^ tcv^ t-axx?* \n\n23* \n\n\n\n270 MEMOIR OF \n\n• \n\nto Qod. Having come from worship ia tht ball, I \nmused, and the fire burned — I waited upon Gro4i flilM \nhe heard my prayer. Having returned from dinner, I \nagain prostrated myself before Grod, and felt less than \nthe least — the unworthiest of the unworthy : thinking \nupon my subject as it was prepared, I concluded it \nwas good for nothing, unless accompanied by the Spi- \nrit to the hearts of the people. I wrestled with Grod for \na blessing. I was burthened with a desire that could \nnot be uttered for the coming of the Lord. I felt un- \nworthy to go out to the people, yet panted to tpea^ \nfor Gk>d. I thirsted, I drank ; I hungered, and was \nfilled; then took my staff and traveled on, and met \nthe people. It was a heart-searching time, as one en- \ngaged Christian testified to me this morning. Thr \nLord follow it with his blessing. \n\n\" Walked to attend another meeting about three \nmiles distant, where there seemed still deeper solem- \nnity, and where I was greatly helped. ' O Lord, how \nmanifold is thy goodness to thy servant !* ' Pll try to \nprove faithful.' Felt happy in God, after the exercise \nof the day, although fatigued in body. \n\n\" To-day has brought with it a trial. A repeated \nrequest reached me that I would leave college for a sea- \nson, and become a ' yoke-fellow ' with brother S., now \nlaboring at Springfield in New-Jersey, and where souls \nare joining themselves to the Lord. Arguments, both \nin favor and against it, arise in my mind. I commit- \nted myself and the decision as well as I could into \nGrod's hands. My heart went up to the great Head of \nthe church — the question arose, why here constructing \na triangle, when souls may be perishing? My heart \nmelted and my eyes ran dovru V\\t\\i xew^. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 271 \n\n^ At evening devotion I fell before the Lord, and \nealled upon God my heavenly Father. But my peti- \ntion could not find utterance. I only wanted to know \nthe will of the Lord concerning me. This passage \nentered my mind, 'Be still, and know that I am God :' \nalso, 'Commit thy way unto the Lord — acknowledge \nhim in all thy ways ; and he shall direct thy paths.' \nMy tears were dried up. After petitioning in behalf \nof brother S. and the lambs around him, my father's \nhouse and friends, I arose to praise the Lord. I was \nonly desirous to know his will ; and I trust in him to \nmake the way plain. I felt willing either to stay or \ngo at his command. If I find the door to open wide, \nso as to let me pass out, I shall consider it a call of God \nto go: if not, I remain to do his will here. 'Praise the \nLord, O my soul.' \n\n\"I knew not, nor do I know now, what I should do \nif I went, but I felt willing to do any thing to help on \ntae work of God. \n\n\"8th. It is decided. Dr. C.'s negative puts it out of \n\nmy power to leave college. Wrote brother S ; \n\nmay my letter refresh his spirit. Had an interview \nwith an aged brother, who is a man full of faith and \nof the Holy Ghost. He refreshed my soul. O for a \nhost of such pilgrims.\" \n\nIn the letter to Rev. Mr. S., after giving am account \nof his struggle between inclination and duty, he thus \nwntes: \n\n''Since the decision, I do not rebel; but consider it \nall for the best. I would gladly have Ve(iom% ^^s«ax \nbelper^hut enough — I acquiesce. \n\n\n\n272 MEMOIR OF \n\n\" Of late I hare receired large blessings from Qod. \nI think I have been more in the school of Christ this \nsession than ever before. And I have never had such \nevidences of being called of God to spend for him — nor \nsuch breaking of souls to do the work of an evangelisL \nYes : I have fell desirous to live only to bring souls to \nChrist. I have been strengthened of the Lord to bear \ntestimony both to saints and sinners — and the Lord \nhas owned the word. Direct effort is against wind \nand tide. And besides, a student's inflaence is too \ncheap where they abound. I loog to see more devo- \ntedness among the students of the theological semina- \nry. Every third Sabbath I attend a meeting three miles \ndistant, and generally once or twice a week I talk in \ntown. Every thing goes on pleasantly ; I spend my \ntime with but few, except the indigent, the inquiring, \nand engaged Christians. Yet I am nothing but a sin- \nner saved by grace. But this one thing I know, that \n'God is love' — that I love Grdd, and am loved of him; \nand should I deny it, I should deny the clearest de- \nmonstration ever made to my faith and feelings. 'Ah \npraise to Him that sitteth on the throne.' \" \n\nTo the Rev. Mr. H., Mr. Taylor wrote on the 13th \nFebruary, as follows: \n\n\" That which has mostly occupied my mind this ses- \nsion, is a due preparation for the Gospel ministry. \nWhile I have given literary acquirements their due, \nthe best gifts have been earnestly coveted. My call of \nGod has appeared to me more and more clear, and my \nsoul has burned with desire to win souls to Christ \nFor this, and this alone, I Vva.^e -wx^Vk^d to Uve^ and \nto nccompUsh this I have {e\\i mWVfts \\o\\v^^ ^W^- \n\n\n\nJAMES fiRAINERO TAYLOR. 273 \n\nsand yean. I have longed to live and preach the Gos- \npel ; (md I felt that God was either aiiointing me for \nhis work on earth, or for a speedier flight to heaven. \nWhile willing to depart and be with Christ, I still \nstrongly desired to preach the Gospel. At the same \ntime, rather than go out without the approbation of the \ngreat Head of preachers, I would retire in silence, \nweep in secret, and there wait my appointed change. \n\n\" On a certain occasion — let me tell you — on a cer- \ntain occasion, when, in answer to my prayer, the hea- \nyens were opened and let down ' peace like a river ' — \nI left this solicitude to preach the Gospel remaining, \nand yet feared that I might not. Like a little child, I \nlooked up and said, Father, am I a chosen vessel to \npreach the Gh)spei ? My dear friend, whether it was \nan answer in the affirmative or not, judge thou; but \nat that moment there came over me what I must \nleave to another world to furnish a name for. I was \nno more solicitous, nor have I been since, whether I \nshould live to preach the Gospel or not \n\n''I feel that I have been in the school of Christ \nwhere I now am: 1. as a Probationer. Thus were the \ndisciples, before they were commissioned and sent out \nto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. While with \nChrist, their conduct was held up to the world — to \nangels — before the Lord himself. They were proved. \n1 Tim. 3 : 10. \n\n\"2. I aiA in the act of preparing. The disciples \nwent through a training. They were brought up at the \nfeet of the great Teacher in Israel, whose perfect ex* \nample was proposed for their imitation. They were \nhill intimates too, and held communion with hkcL. ^.\\v<^ \nhfi iHught them lessons in theology, upoxi ^Vv\\e\\v^ ^<& ^ \n\n\n\n274 MEMOIR OF \n\nbasis, all the minister's furniture should rest ; for it \nthe superstructure be not on this Rocky who will in- \nsure it in the day of Grod's wrath ? The apostles re- \nceived a commission to go out for a season ; and this \nseemed as a trial and preparation too. At length, in \nChrist's last command, they received more power, and \nhad a broader seal. God grant that that day, to which \n1 am looking forward, may be as the day of my es- \npousals. \n\n\" Like the apostles, I go out from time to time, erery \nthird Sabbath regularly, and frequently during the in- \nterval, to call lost sinners to repentance. Last evening \nI met a few anxious souls — plead for' me — ^plead for \nthem.\" \n\nDiary. \" Feb. 15. — Will God sanctify me to himself \nmore than ever ? O to live — to labor — to spend all foi \nGod. Help, Lord, help thy servant, ' whom thou hast \nredeemed to thyself by thy precious blood.' \n\n\"27th. — ^ How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord \nof hosts !' Thus I found them this morning. My soul \nwent out for the preacher, and he came with a message \nfor me— I was blessed indeed. Through most of the \nsermon 1 could witness in my soul to the truth de- \nlivered. My heart leaped within me for joy. Thus \nthis day has been to me y day of gladness. By and by \n1 hope to rest above. \n\n\"March 5. — To-day I trust salvation has visited \nthis college. A young man, in whom I have taken a \nlively interest ever since he joined us — who has been \nled away contrary to my advice, but whom I have \nfollowed with the truth notwithstanding his vices, has \nprofessed hope of eternal \\V?e. 'Y\\iw:^\\\\ifeY.o\\\\.,\\&.\\ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 275 \n\nhave been in any way the means of bringiDg him to \nChrist. This, he says, is the case. This, with some \ncases in town, seems to be an interpretation of my de- \ntention from Springfield. \n\n\" March 10. — Returned from meeting the little band \nof anxious souls, where I found two of our number \nwho professed hope. One seemed full of peace and \njoy. O what a change every way ! Others present \nto-night, seemed near to the kingdom ; but they are \nfar off till they submit. Not one word of consolation \nhas been offered in these cases, but I proceed with \nthem as with others: 1. To induce the sinner to com- \nmit himself on the subject of religion. 2. When thus \ncommitted, to show him the awful responsibility rest- \ning upon him, and the great danger of delay. 3. Show \nhim his sins against the law. 4. Urging, by Gospel \nmotives, immediate submission — showing that God \nputs no barrier in the way of the sinner's coming to \nChrist, but that the obstacles are wholly in himself. \n5. That he grows worse every hour he rebels against \nGod. One thing particularly recommended was, be- \ning alone. This course has been attended with a \nblessing. Trembling has seized some, and the con- \nsequence is, they justify Grod and condemn them- \nselves.\" \n\nIn the following letter Mr. Taylor appears in a \nlight most commendable and worthy of remembrance . \nauid imitation. \n\n\" Nassau BdU, Mttrch 9, 183&. \n^ Bdored Parenti, \n\n'^ Having a little time this morning, I e\\ieetl\\i>\\^ ^<^- \nrcte it to telling you of my affairs. \n\n\n\n■% \n\n\n\n27G MEMOIR OF \n\n'' I am nearly recovered from a heavy cold wbicli \nconfined me to my room for a few days. The * light \naffliction' has been sanctified. \n\n\" You are now looking out* for your children's pre- \nsence — waiting to give them a cordial reception into \nyour new mansion. In times xmst we have hailed \neach other with grateful emotions. The time before \nthe last, what a melting season we had before the \nfamily altar, soon after our united salutations. And \nhow many seasons of refreshing have we enjoyed \nwhile we have conversed, and sung, and prayed, and \nwept together ? I long to see your faces again, and \nagain tell, and hear you tell, of the loving-kindness \nof the Lord. Again do I long to sit and kneel beside \nthat father who has watched with anxious solicitude \nover the wandering foot-steps of a once unruly son. \nAgain do I long to sit and kneel beside that mother \nwhose fostering hand hath raised a child for the world \n— for the church — for God — for heaven. Yes, my dear \nparents, I long to see your faces, and be together bless- \ned by our heavenly Father. Well, shall I ? Shall my \nfriends be gratified? \n\n\" You will remember, that when at home last, I left \nyou for a short time, and again returned ; when you \nconcluded, from a combination of circumstances, that \nI ought to return again to Colchester. You bade me \n•God speed,' for you believed that it was his will that \nI should go. Did you ever regret your decision? \nAnd have you not, even in praying for mc, asked with \nthis petition, * Thy will be done?' Then you are pre- \npared to let the Lord and his church have me, instead \nofhaviDg me yourselves. You will endure the disap- \npointment for Christ's sake,\\iiuA V^^^' I w wwi v\\w xwo^^ \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 371 \n\nMay this evermore be your disposition. You have \ngiven me up to Qod by frequent surrenders. Now you \nwill not take me back again. No, you would not take \nme out of his hands. You would not take me from his \ndisposal, if you could. Rather would you say, should \nwe never more see our son James, the Lord lead him \n-—the Lord use him — the Lord be glorified by and \nthrough him. \n\n^' It is probable you will not see me the ensuing va- \ncation ; and for several reasons : not because I cannot \ncross the rivers and hills that intervene ; not because \nI am straitened in circumstances ; not because I want \naffection ; no ; but because a Macedonian cry seems \nto come from another quarter. My friend Mr. S. has \nwriten mie thrice, and as often urged me to leave col* \nlege and go to his aid. He wished me to become his \n' yoke-fellow ' for a season. He is now waiting im- \npatiently for my arrival. I did not leave college. To- \nday I have received a verbal request from him. \n\n^^ The Lord is blessing his labors, and he wishes mt \n\nto be with him. I may say it to you, but not to every \n\none, he has such confidence in me as to make me his \n\ncompanion. By associating with him during vacation, \n\n1 may learn many important lessons, which, if I visited \n\nMiddle Haddam, might be for ever lost to me and to \n\nthe church. This region seems to be the harvest-field \n\nat present. Laborers are wanted. I am drawn to him. \n\nWere I to go to Connecticut with my present convic* \n\niions of duty, I should be unhappy. Thus, with all \n\nthe affection of an affectionate son, I have now to \n\nleave father and mother, brothers and sisters, and go \n\nforth. My own inclination would be to «e« ^o>\\\\ \\ra\\ \n\nfor Christ's sake I must leave all and {o\\\\on« \\vvq\\. \n\n24 j.'^t^sVjt. \n\n\n\n278 MEMOIR OF \n\n\" From these considerations, while you are disap* \npointed do not murmur, but pray the more for me* \nYou have encouragement to pray for me and my suc- \ncess. The Lord hath ahready heard you. He hath \nprospered me. \n\n\" During the present session, God hath been with \nine, and blessed me, and made me a blessing. Brother \nF. will tell you of the conversion of five souls over \nwhom I have rejoiced. Praise the Lord for his good- \nness. The Lord bless my father and mother. \n\n\"As ever, your affectionate son, James.\" \n\n\" To a Friend. \n\n\" March 30, 1825. \n\n\" You speak of ministers' dying. How mighty their \nresponsibility! How awful the account of the un- \ngodly minister ! I have felt of late, willing to live a \nlong life to be a co-worker with God. When I look \naround upon candidates for the holy ministry, what \nshall I say ? The Lord answer the prayer of his hand- \nmaid. 'May you indeed be an exception from many, \nwho, in preparation for the glorious work before them, \nlose their ardor, which, as laborers in Christ's vine- \nyard, they particularly need.' 1 doubt not but this will \nbe your oft repeated and continued prayer for me. \n\n\" The reason, in my humble opinion, why profes- \nsors of religion in our colleges and theological semi- \nnaries are not more alive to God, is either, 1st, becausf*, \nif they brought Christ with them when they came, \nthey have not been careful to walk in him as they had \nreceived him, and so have stepped aside, and were tm- \nmediately out of the wa^ \\ oi^ 2d\\ if ttey had Christ \nin them the hope of glory, «iiiA ^«\\\\iiwft^\\!:\\\\x\\;\\S.\\vNa.>^ \n\n\n\nJAMBS BEAINERD TAYLOR. 219 \n\n80 speakj they have not been engaged to enthrone him \nagain ; or, 3d, and most of all, because, notwithstand- \ning their name to live, they are still, as they have ever \nbeen, dead — nay, twice dead in trespasses and sins. \n\n^' I know you take an interest in my prosperity. And \nto encourage you still to pray, I can tell you, I do pros- \nper. God prospers me. The right hand of God U \nstretched out for me, and victory turns on his side — \non my side— on our side — yc*, the Lord is for us. \n\n\" ' Not of myself, but of the grace of God bestowed, \nupon me, I will glory ; not of myself, but of the grace \nof God in me I will glory.' And if, by that grace upon \nand in me, good hath been done to others, let the Au- \nthor be magnified. And I will hope to be blessed with \nthe blessedness of one who, though under God he may \nhave turned one sinner from the error of his ways, yet \nis ready to own himself an unprofitable servant. \n\n\" April 2, 1825. — Yesterday was much indisposed — \nmused upon my state — thought that soon I should be \ncold in the grave, and that possibly the present indis- \nposition might terminate in death. This passage oc- \ncur ed : ' Set thy house in order.' 1 felt that I wanted \none piece of furniture — a broken, a pure heart. Blessed \nbe God, he gave me what I wanted. I felt that I was \neleansed — that my house was in order — that I was \nready ^ meet^ on my way to glory. I had a spirit of \nprayer for the lambs of my little fold. Whatever be- \ncame of me, I desired for them a holy life. They \nseemed precious to me as the apple of my eye. \n\n« From the means used last night, feel much better \nto-day. Will the Lord restore me fulVf V^ Vi»^xW \n* NevertbelesSf not my will.' Wkile 1 Vwe,\\'ww\\^^i^^ \n\n\n\n280 MEMOIR OP \n\nwell, that I might do the more for God. Bat he knows \nwhat is hest, and that is best for me. \n\n\" 5lh. — Called on Miss W , who seems stronger, \n\nand yet stronger in the faith. From her testimony I \nbelieve she is a child of God. After much counsel I \n[darted from her, not expecting to see her again before \nshe returns home. God Almighty protect her. God our \nFather keep her from the evil one, sanctify her wholly, \nand make her useful.\" \n\nTo this lamb of the flock of Christ, brought into the \nfold by the blessing of God upon Mr. Taylor's labors, \nhe wrote the following letter of instructions and ex- \nhortation, which not only shows how well he was \nqualified already for that holy office which he so ar- \ndently desired, but affords much that demands the at- \ntention of young converts, and may be useful to Chris* \ntians in every stage of their progress to heaven ; while \nit exhibits another trait of Mr. Taylor's character, viz. \nhis tender solicitude that those who had been brought \ninto the church through his instrumentality should be \neminently pious : \n\n\" NassoAL-HaU, Apnl 5, 1825. \n'* Miss S vah, \n\n\" ' Grace be unto you, and peace, from God the Fa- \nther, and from our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave him- \nself for our sins, that he might deliver us from this \npresent evil world, according to the will of God oui \nFather ; to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.' \n\n\" If an apology for this epistle were necessary, I \ncould say, God is my witness how I have ceased not \nin attempting to bring you to Christy by conversation, \n\n\n\nJAMiS BBAUffiRD TAYLOR. 881 \n\nexiiortation, argument, watching, prayers, and tears. \nAnd now, having come to the Lamb of God that tak- \neth away the sin of the world, you will doubtless still \nbear with me. \n\n\" But a few days since you were gay, thoughtless, \nand unconcerned ; a lover of pleasure more than a lover \nof God ; averse to serious conversation ; but in the good \nprovidence, and by the grace of God, you were led to \nthink on your ways, to turn your feet to the testimo- \nnies of the Lord, and to make haste and delay not to \nkeep his commimdments. If asked whence you came, \nyou would answer, ' He brought me also out of a hor- \nrible pit — out of the miry clay — and set my feet upon \na rock, and established my goings. And he hath put \na new song into my mouth ; eren praise to our God.' \n\n\" How does that horrible pit and miry clay, whence \nyou have professedly come out, appear to you? Could \nI hear your reply, I doubt not it would be, ' O that my \nhead were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, \nihat I might weep day and night over' — ah, you well \nremember what — you remember the years that have \nrolled away — you call to mind the gayety and mirth \nof former days — you remember the misspent hours in \nthe fashionable circle — in the ball-room — the misspent \nSabbaths — the lost opportunities, when you might and \nought to have turned to God ; and you now see how \nmuch you have lost by being a votary of the world in- \nstead of yielding obedience to God. O Miss Sarah, \nhow much treasure you might have laid up in heaven, \nhad you been as active for your soul's salvation as you \nhave been to seek your own pleasures ; upon all of \nwhich you now write 'vanity and vexation of spint.' \n\n'' Having had your feet set upon tbe tofi^V C»V\\vsx^*A \n\n24* \n\n\n\n262 MEMOIH OP \n\nI mistake not, yon are not ashamed of Jesus : and why \nshould you be ashamed of him 1 Is he not Qod your \nSavior — ^your Redeemer, your all? Is he not your \nProphet, Priest, and King? Your Shepherd, elder \nBrother, Friend, and Judge ? Ashamed of Jesus ? \n\n' No, when I blush, be this my shame, \nThat I no more revere his name.' \n\nSing then of his loving-kindness. His loving-kindness, \nO how free ! how great ! how strong ! how good ! It \nchanges not ; may you celebrate it in death, and be- \nyond time. \n\n\" Said the Psalmist^ ^Oome and hear, all ye that \nfear GKid, and I will declare what he hath done for my \nsoul.' In secret we may consider and celebrate the \nloving-kindness of the Lord. In public, on proper oc- \ncasions, we may declare it forth ; ' for he is good, and \nhis mercy endureth for ever.' \n\n'^ To me the whole duty of man seems to be epito-* . \nmized in this, ' Walk before me and be thou perfect' \nIt is more explicit in the following: ' Thou shalt love \nthe Lord thy God,' how much ? * with all thy heart, \nand soul, and mind, and strength. And thou shalt love \nthy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments \nhang all the law and the prophets.' In giving such a \ncommand, did not Jesus appreciate the necessity of \nlove to God in the highest degree ? Are they not the \nwords of Christ himself? O that Christians would du- \nly consider the privilege of enjoying, not merely for \nan hour, but through life, the degree of love spdten of \nby the beloved disciple. 1 John, 4 : 18. \n\n\"Miss Sarah, how mucYi %o«v^t oxVax^tc^vi Iq«« by \n\n\n\nJAB1E8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. S83 \n\nStanding idle, or wandering away from duty, may it \nbe yours — and may it be mine — to press forward into \nthe fullness of this love. ' For this cause I bow my \nknees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of \nwhom the whole family in heaven and earth is named, \nthat he would grant you according to the riches of his \nglory to be strengthened with might by his Spirit m \nthe inner man ; that Christ may dwell in your heart \nby faith ; that you, being rooted and grounded in love, \nmay be able to comprehend, with all saints, what is \nthe length, and breadth, and depth, and height, and to \nknow the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, \nthat you might be Jilled with all the fullness of God. \nAnd the very Qod of peace sanctify you wholly. And \nI pray God your whole spirit, and soul, and body be \npreserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus \nChrist.' Would the apostle pray for an impossibility ? \nAnd he adds, ' Faithful is he that calleth you, who also \nwill do it.' Belierest thou this 1 According to your \nfaith be it unto you. \n\n\" This appears to me to be the reason why souls \nborn of God for the most part are no more sanctified : \nthey are too soon satisfied with a * name to lire.' They \nforget that there is no truce in this war — that to lay \ndown the armor is to be ranquished. Hence, however \nwell they may hare begun, laying aside their armor, \ndismissing their watch, neglecting to pray, they are \novercome, and become again entangled with the world \n•^lose their evidence of pardon — are thrown into dark- \nness, and delaying to return from their backsliding, \nthey wander wretched and forlorn. Shall I ask? But \nhow appalling the thought that you shall ever fall from \nyour steadfastness ! Miss Sarah, sYiaW ^^Axt ^\\q«^v^^«i \n\n\n\n284 MfiMoim OP \n\ntestify against you? Will your heart erer be firosKa \ninto the adamantine hardness of some, who were once \nmelted into love and tenderness? Shall the hearts ot' \nyour praying friends — your Christian friends, who \nhaire wept and wrestled on yoor behalf, bleed over \nyour loTe of the world? Shall angels witness, after \nyour determination to come out from the world, your \nretrograde steps 1 O shall Jesus ever be wounded by \nyou, his professed friend and follower? Shall the \nworld, who are vratching you with eagles' eyes, \nbe gratified with one word or action whereby they \nmay triumph ? Shall the church be disappointed — the \nchurch below, who are looking after a full devotedness \nof yourself to God, both in prosperity and adversity- \nsickness and health — life and death? The church \nabove, those angel bands— those blood-washed souls \nin the paradise of God, who are waiting to welcome \nthe faithful? \n\n\" Suffer the word of exhortation : — Whatever others \ndo or say, (I mean professors of religion,) whatever \nothers may think sufficient to bring them to heaven — \nlet it be well fixed in your mind that it will cost some- \nthing to be a Christian. Having begun, may you con- \ntinue, and may you end well. To stimulate you to ac \ntion — to urge you on the way — is the object of this \ncommunication. I need not tell you of my solicitude \nthat you should walk worthy of your high vocation : \nyou have already had it evinced. ^ Give, then, all dili- \ngence to make your calling and election sure.' Add to \nyour faith virtue, and all the Christian graces. ' Love \nnot the world, nor.the things of the world.' tC^T ' Be \nclothed vnth humility.^ ' Watch unto prayer.' < Pray \nwithout ceasing.' * Deny all ungodliness — live sober- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 285 \n\nly, righteously, and godly.' ' Deny yourself, take up \nyour cross, and follow Christ ;' not like Peter, afar off. \n^ As you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in \nhim.' How was this ? Did you receive him in a state \nof indifference — in unbelief— in love with the world-^ \nin pride — in gayety — without prayer — in self-indul- \ngence ? Go back to that hour — examine the founda- \ntion of your hope — see how you submitted. Follow up \nyour course, and see what have been your most pre- \ncious seasons, and then go on accordingly. Finally, \nset high your standard of piety — not higher nor lower \nthan the Bible. Seek with all your heart the mind that \nwas in Christ Jesus : then you will study to be faith- \nful to Qod — faithful to yourself— and faithful to all \naround you. \n\n'^ With solicitude for your best interests, \n\n\" I am, in the bonds of the Gtospel, \n\" Yours, &c. \n\n'* James B. Taylor.\" \n\nTo the same. \n\n\" April 11, 1825. \n\n\" I thank my Gk)d upon every remembrance of you. \nAnd this I pray, that your love may abound more and \nmore in knowledge and in all judgment — that you may \napprove things that are excellent — that you may be \nsincere and without offence till the day of Jesus Christ ; \nbeing filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are \nby Jesus Christ, to the praise and glory of God \n\n\" I rejoice that, under God, I was the instrument of \nbringing you to Christ. It is, indeed, a cause of hum- \nble ackBOwledgment to the Father oC \\xieT<^\\^^ >X!AX\\ \n\n\n\n286 MBMom OF \n\nhave been employed and blessed as a co-woiker with \nhim. \n\n\" Your prayer to have the wiU of God done, and not \nyours, is one after the pattern of Jesus Christ. And \nwho so holy, who so happy, as He who came not to \ndo his own will, but the will of him that sent him? \nBe it ours on all occasions to be conformed to the \nwill of God. \n\n\" Here I would repeat what you remind me of say- \ning in my first letter : Press forward into the fullness \nof his love. I trust you will — I pray you may : but do \nnot put it off for a suitable occasion. Like other du- \nties, like other blessings, the time is now. Whence \nissues the voice, delay? From the church aboVe, \nor the church below? Nay, but from hell — from a \nthoughtless world — from soul- damning guides ; from \nnominal, lukewarm professors, the cry is sent forth, \ndelay. Alas ! how many hear it and suffer from it. Oi \nyou I hope better things. \n\n\" Hungering and thirsting after righteousness, may \nyou be filled. \n\n\n\n* Jetutf mjf only hope, thy blood can cleanse \nMy deepest stains, and purify my soul \nFrom all its native and contracted g;ailt ; \nIn that clear fountain of immortal life \nLet me be cleansed and thoroughly sanctified. \nI come, a helpless, miserable wretch, \nAnd throw myseU| and all my future hopes. \nOn mercy infinite ; reject me not, \nThou Savior of the sinful race of man.' — Mrg. \n\n\n\n*' You said you had not conversed much with your \nfriends. To do this profttablY^ we need the wisdom of \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMEAO TAYLOR. 287 \n\nthe serpent and the harmlessness of the dove. Re- \ngard should be had to time, place, persons, and the pe- \nculiar circumstances of individuals. While we may \nnot have the opportunity of benefiting others in con- \nversation, yet we may by example. \n\n\" But I think, Miss S , should you fix it as a prin- \nciple of action for your whole life — for you have en- \ntered upon a life- service — you have enlisted for the \nwar — I say, should you fix it as a principle of action \nfor life, 80 far as in you lies, to benefit every indi- \nvidual that approaches you, it is probable you would \nnot regret it at your dying hour. Look to the everlast- \ning hills for strength. Perhaps you will conclude that \nyou have already bound yourself to this by your oath \nat the communion-table. Be it so ; you need not wish \nthe obligation revoked. \n\n^' At the communion-table ! Ah ! has God, have \nangels and men, beheld you seated at the table of the \nLord? And, did you sing, \n\n* Why was I made to hear thy voice, \nAnd enter while there's room 7' \n\nAnd shall I say, be faithful to your vows 1 \n\n\" As to doctrines, I would you were established firm- \nly in ^ the faith once delivered to the saints.' It is all \nin the Bible ; and with this promise : ' Uany man will \ndo his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it \nbe of Grod, or whether I speak of myself.' These are \nChrist's words, who says, * Search the Scriptures.' \nAnd tlie apostle, ' Let the word of Christ dwell in you \nrioUy in kU wisdom.' Like ApoUos, may you be migh- \nIf ia<lie[Sknpturcs; and agreeably to IbA \\itv)^\\ ^^ \n\n\n\n288 MUioia OP \n\nChrist, be suctified through the truth. O how neon \n8ary to be justified and sanctified; for ^ wiihout kok' \nneas no man shall see the Lord? \" \n\nSoon after writing the above, Mr. Taylor left col- \nlege to spend the spring vacation m assisting the \nllev. N. C. S. in a revival at Rahway, N. J. At his \narrival he found the work going on, and about fifteen \npersons entertaining the hope that they had passed \nfrom death unto life. Among this people he labored, \n\nin conjunction with Mr. S , about five weeks, very \n\nmuch to their satisfaction, and with great success. \nDuring this favored season the number of hopefol \nconverts increased from fifteen to seventy or eighty, \nof all ages, from eleven years old to seventy, and of \nevery condition in life. \n\nTo his brothers K and J , Mr. Taylor wrote \n\ntwo letters from Rahway, giving an account of the \nprogress of the work of grace in that town, in which \nhe says : \n\n\" I am glad to inform you that the revival is in- \ncreasingly interesting. Upwards of sixty have ex- \npressed hope. Among the young converts is one sixty- \none years of age ; among the anxious, one of seventy. \n\n\" The child of sixty-one is a mother, who, with her \ntwo daughters, became anxious on the same day ; and \non the same day they all expressed hope. This family \nI visited, and they received me cooWy— nay more, they \nwere indifferent^ approaching to opposition. But, to our \n\nsurprise, they soon sent for brother S and myself \n\nto visit them. We went, and found them in deep dis- \ntress. Judge how diiTerently they received us, from the \n\n\n\nJAMGS BRAI?f£RD TAYLOR. \"289 \n\nmanner in which they received my visit! God bo \npraised. There is no opposition worthy of note. The \nwork goes on in solemn stillness. \n\n\" May you all be holy, and without blame, before \nhim in love. Aft'ectionately, James.'* \n\nUpon his return to college he wrote as follows to \nthe family at Middle Haddam * \n\n''Nassaii-Hall, May 10, 1825. \n\n* * * \" I have often thought of your delightful situ \nation on the hill — I have thought too that you are a \nhouse on a hill, that cannot be hid. To shine, we need \nlo be covered. 'Be clothed with humility.' To be \nhigh, we need to get low in the vale, not of dejection, \nbut of humility — * Before honor is humility.' \n\n\" Most of my enjoyments flow from a contented \nmind, which, when possessed, is a ' continued feast.' \nNot in the world, nor from the world, but from God, \nthrough Jesus Christ, we must expect our happiness. \nIt is at the feet of Jesus we may find help in every \ntime of need. \n\n\" Since my return, the Lord has visited me with \nrich blessings. I hope he is ripening me for his ser- \nvice here, and for his glory hereafter. \n\n\" I think I never took more interest in reading the \n\nBible than since I returned. Revivals of religion are \n\na happy comment upon the Bible. In reading the Acts \n\nof the Apostles, read them in reference to revivals. In \n\nreading the epistles, read them as addressed to young \n\nconverts. \n\n\" As ever, affectionately yours, \n\n\"James B. TkYii3«.T \n25 i,^'^«L^\\oT \n\n\n\n290 MEMOIR OP \n\nTo bis diary we are indebted for very much tliat Bit. \nTaylor said, and did, and thought, and felt, giving an \ninteresting development of his character, and the more \ntu be relied upon, because it was never designed for \npublication, or even the inspection of his friends. \n\nThough in the conversions which took place during \n\nthe joint labors of Mr. iS and Mr. 'J aylor at Hah- \n\nAvay, there is evidence that his eftbrts were much bless- \ned, yet in this secret record of the matter he lays no \nclaim to distinction. \n\n\" May 21.— Went with brother S to Rabway, \n\nand found that, after his laburs there for about two \nweeks, fifteen had expressed hope. 1 became his as- \nsistant for about five weeks, during which time the \nnumber was increased to seventy-five or eighty. Will \nGod carry on his work, and still own the efforts oi \n\nbrother S in eflecting a greater salvation among \n\nthat people ? \n\n\" During my labors I bad too much hardness while \nM'itnessing the displays of grace, and while God wus \nevidently owning his word. I often felt under the in- \nfluence of lethargy. The Lord, I trust, has forgiven \nmc. But, O ! how much more humble and faithful I \nmight have been I There were seasons, indeed, in \nwhich my heart was broken and contrite. 1 look upon \nthi:j sphere of labor, and this opportunity with brother \n\nS , as among the happiest, prospectively, in all my \n\nlife. Since my return, God has been gracious to me, \nani afforded unconmion seasons of communion with \nhimself, through Jesus Christ. I have been enabled to \ncast all my burdens on the Lord. \n\nIn my walk this motuin^^ met with a cross. As I \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ERD TAYLOR. 291 \n\nwas passing a shop, a man swore by the sacred name \nof God. I passed on. The query arose, ' Shall I let \nthis sin go unnoticed V I stopped. Many excuses en- \ntered my mind — whether from the devil or my own \nheart, I cannot determine. At length this Scripture \npresented itself: ' Thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy \nneighbor, and not suffer sin upon him.' I went back, \ncalled the person by name, and requested an interview. \nWe walked aside, where I had a serious talk with him ; \nthe result so far was favorable. \n\n\" June 1. — I rejoiced before God that there was an \neternity to come, in which I might recount his good- \nness — see him as he is — and associate with saints and \nangels. O how my heart moved at the thought of \nmeeting some there who might recognize in me a \nspiritual father ! I would rather live than die, for the \npresent ; and this, God knoweth, is from the desire of \nbeing, if he would qualify me, eminently useful in \nbringing sinners to Christ. Yet if he were to call, I \nwould go. Methought, how should I appear, seated \nwith the saints in the new Jerusalem. I looked for the \nlowest seat. \n\n\" Among others, my friend L. P came to my \n\nmind. I think I never before pleaded for him with \nsuch confidence and submission. My petitions were \ngroans which could not be uttered, for his salvation. \nI left him, with myself, in the hands of God. He will \ndo right ; and I rejoice that he is on the throne. \n\n\" 6th. — Yesterday, the Sabbath, passed for the most \npart without much feeling in divine things till even- \ning devotion, when, singing, I made melody in my \nheart to the Lord. \n\n\"June 9. — Evening. — To the houoT o? xVOsi ^tajt^\\» \n\n\n\n293 MEMOIR OF \n\nit recorded, that God, out of his exceeding fullness, \nhath just now visited my soul with salvation. After \nreading the Scriptures, while singing, the thought of \nmy having spoken on the stage this evening, when \n] was considerably applauded, entered my mind. \nThought I, what is this? O! if my faculties might \nbe all on God's side, it would be honor. Immediaiely \nmy heart broke, and went out, not in self-complacence, \nbut in self-abasement. I fell upon my knees, to give \nmyself away to God anew. I found I had nothing to \ngive. All I am was his already. And besides, I owed \nhim ten thousand talents. Then it occurred to me to \nask of God to consecrate mc wholly to himself, for his \nglory. The petition was too big for utterance ; I groan- \ned and wept it out. I think I never had such an over- \npowering willingness to spend for God. I felt an un- \nusual resignation to his will: I felt myself in his hand. \nAnd if at last I should be held up a spectacle to crea- \ntion, as a monument of long-suffering on his part, \nand then be sent to hell, I would wish to bring glory \n10 his name while on earth, \n\n'' 13th. — Brother S having left the people at \n\nRahway, O how I longed to, be with them for a sea- \nson ! But I cannot. I cast them and myself upon the \nLord, and he bestowed a rich blessing upon me. I \nsunk into insignificance, while God was exalted above \nall.\" \n\nWhile thus breathing out his affectionate soul in be- \nhalf of the lambs of the flock at Rahway, Mr. Taylor \naddressed to them the following communication : \n\n\n\nlAMEB BRAINEBD TAYLOH.r- ^7 ^^ \n\nU who \n\n' names \n\n*• To the band of young converts in Rcu d con- \n\n'B«ioTed, p, and \n\n\" My having seen some of you when dead iii luke- \npasses and in sins, and afterwards when awd^ags \ned, anxious, and rejoicing, I presume will be a siKpd \ncient apology for this epistle. But besides this, I miglf- \nassure you that the love of Christ constraineth me. \nThe Christian affection and solicitude I feel towards \nyou all draw me \\ and my regard for your best inter- \nests calls forth a line from my pen. \n\n\"Addressing an epistle to young converts^ the \napostle said among other things — ' As ye have there- \nfore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in him ; \nrooted and built up in him, and established in the faith, \nas ye have been taught, abounding therein with thanks- \ngivings.' Col. 2 : 6, 7. Let me ask: How did you re- \nceive the Lord Jesus Christ? In impenitence, unbe- \nlief, and rebellion ? or in contrition, faith, and submis- \nsion ? Was it in pride, love of the world, sensuality, \nanger, malice, or envy ? Or in humility, forsaking \nthe world, a crucifying the flesh with its affections and \nlusts? Was it with a determination to live in sin, \nand so dishonor God ? or with the fixed, unalterable \ndetermination to wage war with sin, to overcome sin, \nand to honor God by forsaking every sin 7 Methinks \nI hear one and another say, ' You have touched a point \nin my experience. Thv^ it was I received Christ \nJesus the Lord.' What a combination of appellation \nand office is wound up in the name of the Son of God ! \nChrist — ^anointed, sent and set apart to execute his \noffice as mediator; Jesus — Savioi •, Lord — ^Nicift^x^'^ivft* \n\n25* \n\n\n\n292 ^oia OP \n\nit rec< /hen you received hini, did yon \n\nhath I 294 ' ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ offices ? Then \n\nreadir Here, as in a journey, before we \n\nmy h tor get in the way. \n\n] wa tad built up in him.' In this we see the \n\nTli(^ Ting confirmed Christians. A tree should \n\nbe^^ ot, for two reasons : that it may outstand \n\ni;» \"^ . n, and that it may receive the more nourish- \n\n1 house built on a sandy foundation is in \n\nof soon falling. The hope not founded on the \n\ni. Christ Jesus the Lord, will be soon swept \n\n,..vay. \n\n\" ^ And established in the faith.' Are there babes in \nChrist ? so are there young and old men in Christ. As \none is born, not always to remain a babe, but to grow \nup to manhood, so babes in Christ should grow up into \nChrist to the stature of perfect men. Once the wide- \nspread oak was shut up in the acorn ; afterwards it \nshot above the earth ; now it attracts the notice of the \neye. \n\n^' ^ In the laith as ye have been taught.' Besides the \nexperience of others, you have the witness within \nyourselves to testify to the doctrines of the Bible. As \nhigh as the Bible, and no higher, are we to set our \nstandard of believing. With the Bible in our hand, \nand God's teaching, we may come at the truth as it \nis in Jesus. \n\n\" * Abounding therein with thanksgiving.' That \nthere is such a thing as being deficient, nay empty, in \nreligious experience, look at professors of religion here \nand there. Do you find them all ^ full of faith and of \nthe Ho.y Ghost ?' Do you find a family altar in every \nbouse where religion is piofe^aedl Do ^ou behold I§- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 295 \n\nraelites indeed, in whom there is no guile, in all who \ngo around the communion-table, and have their names \nin the church book? Judge ye of the walk and con- \nversation of many who bear the Christian name, and \nask, ^ Shall I too be a deficient, empty, formal, luke- \nwarm disciple V Ah, my friends, I hope better things \nof you. I hope God, angels, and saints in heaven, and \nthe church on earth, will witness in you a walk ac- \ncording to godliness ; a firmness and stability of cha- \nracter worthy of such a hope, such a profession, such \nobligations as yours. And then you will abound too \nin thanksgiving that your eyes were open to see, your \nears unstopped to hear, and your heart broken to feel \nthe joys of sins forgiven. \n\n\"Having just entered upon the race, you have it to \nrun, 'run with patience.' Having to fight, 'put on the \nwhole armor of God;' for the world, the flesh, and \nthe devil are arrayed against you. Are you discour- \naged ? Does your soul draw back at the distance ? at \nthe contest ? Why art thou cast down ? Satan would \nhave you so. The world, who are looking at and \nwatching you with an eagle's eye, would have you \ndraw back, or fall back from your steadfastness. But \n' give no place to the devil.' Come out from the world \nand say, ' In the name of the Lord, I will destroy them \nall :' fqr, through Christ strengthening him, wliat can- \nnot the Christian do? And does not the assurance \nsoi^nd from the word, ' My grace is sufficient for thee V \n\n\"You recollect the season of our last interview. I \ntnink I shall never forget it. It was apparently a hea- \nreuly place in Christ Jesus. And have you found the \n' God of love and peace ' with you ? I doubt not that \nyou have, if you have been of 'one mind'' \\^ ^ifc^'<a^ \n\n\n\n296 MEMOIR OF \n\nhigh attainment in the divine life, ' adding to your \nfaith virtue,^ and have kept all the Christian graces in \nexercise. And if you still ^grow in grace and in the \nknowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christy* \nyou will abound more and more in the consolations of \nthe Gospel. For the sake of Christ, then — for the sake \nof the church, which is his body, and which he has \npurchased with his own blood, and for which he in- \ntercedes — for the sake of your pastor, who prays for \nyour prosperity — and for the sake of those who hart \nlabored among you — and for your own sakes, I pray \nyou to be uncommon Christians ; that is, be emineatr \nlyholp^s elf-denying — cross-bearing-— Bible — every^ \nday Christians, \n\n\" You may walk in Christ, be ' rooted and built up \nin him? You may ' exercise yourselves unto godli- \nness, and be perfect, of one mind, live in peace, be ot \ngood comfort, and have the Grod of love and peace with \nyou.' It is that to which every one of you may attain. \nIt is — O yes, it is your high privilege — yes, it is your \nduty to attain unto it; and moreover, it is for youria- \nterest ; for when are you the happiest, when worldly \nor spiritual, when earthly or heavenly-minded ? Shall \nI repeat what you have so often assented to as duty, \nand in the performance of which your souls have been \nso much blessed ? I mean, shall I say, live to God in \nsecret — examine your hope — try your experience? \nLeave these duties unperformed for a day or a week, \nand see where you would be found. Rather, would I \nsay, do not try the experiment ; for it has undermined \nmany hopes, nay, is one strong evidence of a bad hope ; \nriz. the neglect of duty, and this neglect unattended \nwith remorse and leueYred s^\\ya:d&^\\»i&. \\q God. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 297 \n\n\" Shall I repeat, that the cords of Christian affec- \ntion bind me to yon ? The remerabrance of you has \nassociated with it some of my sweetest moments : and \nI have rejoiced in the thought that an eternity is to \ncome, in which I shall have the opportunity of seeing \nyou, and rejoicing with you. Until then, if we con- \nverse no more on earth, we will hope to meet around \nour Father's board, and sing * Hallelujah for ever and \never.' \n\n\" I presume you continue to meet for social prayer \nand praise as usual. May you be knit together more \nand more — may your hearts be united to fear, to love, \nand serve the Lord. Not only for yourselves must you \nfeel interested, but for those with whom you are asso- \nciated. Your affectionate but infirm pastor, whom you \ncherish with new emotions, calls for your prayers; \nyour pious friends — your companions whom you left \nbehind, to take their pleasure in the world — ^your fathers \nand mothers — your children — your brothers and sisters, \nwho are left while you have been taken. O! how \nmuch have you to do ; and what you would .do for God, \nfor yourselves, for your pious and for your ungodly \nfriends, must be done quickly, for ' the time is short? \nSoon, you will go hence — soon, they will be here no \nmore. Who of us would see a friend or relative of \nours go down under the wrath of God ? Ah ! when \nthe sound \\farewell ' shall echo at the bar of God \n— when an impenitent child shall take a last linger- \ning look of a pious saved parent, and sigh 'farewell' \n— when parents shall sink from the view of pious \nchildren — when brothers and sisters shall part to \nmeet no more, may we stand spotless, and with \n\n\n\n29S iuxoiB or \n\ntheir blood liacgiog aboat us. Finally', let our soag \never be, \n\n* I'll try to proTe faithful, \n\n* Till we all arrive at home. \n\n\" Yours, m the best of bonds, \n\n\"James B. Taylor.\" \n\nThis address to yoang converts su^ests some \nthoughts which are worthy of the practical regard, not \nonly of those who are just commencing the Christian \nlife, but of ministers and older Christians. \n\nXo one. who has his senses so exercised as to be \ncapable of judging in the case, can be blind to the \nmelancholy truth, that the cause of the Redeemer has \nsuffered sadly from the want of that deep toned con- \nsistent piety which is attainable by ever)' one who has \nbeen born from above. The opinion has indeed pre- \nvailed to a great extent, and is still entertained by \nmany, that the freshness and fervor of the first love of \nyoung Christians must of necessity pass away, and \ngive place to darkness, and uncertainty, and coldness \nMost disastrous have been the effects of this opinion \nupon the growth in holiness and usefulness of the \nchurch ; and instead of shining brighter and brighter \nto the perfect day, her light has been often obscured, \nher hopes enfeebled, and her influence neutralized. \nInstead of a vigorous, healthful action, her conduct \nhas been fitful, and her very life an alternation of \nspasm and collapse ; at one time, all zeal and devoted- \nDes3, and again chilling all around with indifference. \n\nNow it is perfectly manifest that neither the apos- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEHD TAYLOR. 299 \n\nties nor their Master ever countenanced or encouraged \nsuch a life in his followers. \"Nevertheless,\" said our \nLord to the church of Ephesus, \" I have somewhat \nagainst thee, because thou hast left thy first love. Re- \nmember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and re- \npent, and do the first works : or else I will come unto \nthee quickly, and remove thy candlestick out of his \nplace, except thou repent.\" In this passage we have \nset before us the evil and the remedy. If a declension \nin the fervor of piety and the strength of faith — if leav- \ning their first love, by Christians, must be repented of^ \nthen is such conduct ofiensive to God, prejudicial to \nhis cause, and injurious to the souls of men. Every \nsin is ofiensive to God — but this sin necessarily pre- \njudices his cause with sinners, and consequently in- \njures their souls ; and the only remedy is repentance. \nBut every Christian has a security against this evil, \nin the abundant grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, which, \naccording to divine promise, may be attained through \nfaith, and watchfulness, and prayer. Let every Chris- \ntian, therefore, come boldly to the throne of grace, that \nhe may obtain mercy and find grace to help in the time \nof need. \n\nUntil the church shall unlearn the lesson so often \ntaught by good, but mistaken fathers and mothers in \nIsrael, that the excitement attended upon conversion \nmiist be succeeded by dq)ression and doubt — until mi- \nnisters and members of the-church practically learn that \ntheir power of doing good is in proportion to their holi- \nness — there is no reason to expect the universal tri- \numph of the cause of truth and righteousness. It is \nimpossible that the wise and benevolent King of Zion \nttbould ever subdue the world to MmseVl \\\\vTavw;^\\>X\\% \n\n\n\n300 MEMOIR or \n\nco-operation of a people so imperfectly sanctified as is \nthe present generation of Christians ; nor does it seem \nat all consistent with His infinite fitness to govern, to \nimpress the present character of the church, in which \nthere is such a mixture of pride, and selfishness, and \nAvorldliness, and the spirit of contention, upon this \nearth's entire population. How important then the in- \nstructions given by Mr. Taylor to young converts! \nHow necessary that they grow up from their very \nbirth \"unto the measure of the stature of the fullness \nof Christ.\" \n\nIn the same strain and the same spirit is the follow- \ning extract of a letter to a young lady in T , to \n\nv/hom Mr. Taylor sustained the endeared relation of \nspiritual father : \n\n*'June 17, 1825. \n\n\" As you may conclude, I was glad to hear of your \nprosperity. As you are pleased to recognize in me \nthe instrument, wider God, of awaking you from car- \nnal security, and of leading you to the Lamb of God, \nyou rightly judge that I feel something of the solici- \ntude attendant upon such a relation. And not only for \nyou, but for others scattered up and down, near and \nremote. When the husbandman cultivates his field, he \nis more or less anxious until his expections are re- \nalized. \n\n\" I need not tell you that I have rejoiced over the \nlambs of the flock of Jesus, the good Shepherd. And \nperhaps I should not tell you that I have wept in se- \ncret places, for fear that some might turn aside — some \nwho have expressed a hope, and so wound the cause \nof Christ, Yes, my heaxl Vwi^ \\Aft^ vcw \\S\\^ \\wxiet cham- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TATLOR. 301 \n\nberS) my soul has agonized for the prosperity of those \nwhom I have seen once dead m trespasses and sins, \nand afterwards awakened and hopefully born again. \nMy heart's desire and prayer to God for them is, that \nthey ail might be holy, harmless^ and undefiled. Is \nkolineaa stamped on your heart? Is holiness to the \nLord, as the grand characteristic of your thoughts, \nwords, and actions, carried out and made to stand \nforth in all the relations of life ? Are you as harmless \nas a dove 1 Are you unspotted ' from the world V \n\n\" May you be lilie a tree planted by the river's side \n—be rooted in Christ — rooted, that you may both draw \nnourishment from, and stand firm in Christ Jesus.\" \n\nDiary, \"June 19. — Another standard-bearer in Zion \nhath fallen — Summerfield is no more. Hath fallen? \nis no more 7 But he hath ascended to his Father, and \nlives in the Paradise of God. I have read once and \nagain two letters of his addressed to my friend Mr. \nA. They are fraught with Christian love. The \nthought that the hand that wrote them is now entomb* \ned in the grave, and the spirit that dictated them now \nranges the sweet fields above, was melting to my soul. \nWell : for the Lord hath done all things well, and now \nreigns. He hath joined those who have gone before. \nWhat interviews may he have already had with Wes- \nley, and Whitefield, and Fletcher, and Spencer, and \nMartyn, and the innumerable company ! And shall 1 \njoin the heavenly band ? I think I never before had \nsuch humiliating views of myself as for weeks past, \nwhile the Lord has been favoring me with the com* \nmunications of his love. And if, after all, I should \nenter heaven^ the thought occuxtcOL vWx \\?cv^ ^xx^'ax \n\n\n\n302 MEMOIR OF \n\nplace for me would be to be raised to some contpicn- \nous point in the midst of the adoring throng, as an \neverlasting spectacle of swperabounding grctce.^ \n\nTo a Minister of the Gospel. \n\n\" Nassau HaU, July 13, 182& \n**• Brother beloved, \n\n\" Your letter, which I have read again and again, \ncame to hand about a week after its date, and it re- \nfreshed me. \n\n\" Indeed I have sympathized with you, and I still \ncould weep with you under your various trials. But \nour sympathizing High Priest, who hath gone into the \nheavens, can better be touched with a feeling of yonr \ninfirmities, having been tempted in all points as we are. \nWas Peter's wife's mother sick of a ferer ? Peter's \nfriend was there to heal. Was the house at Bethany \nafflicted ? The friend of Lazarus, of Mary, and Martha, \nwas there to weep with the latter, and over the tomb \nof the former. I need not tell ray dear brother that \nJesus is virtually present, and that in him all fullness \ndwells. Yes, he is an attendant upon your compa- \nnion — he watches over her for good — cherishes her \nspiritual health, and is thus maturing her to the sta- \nture of one perfect in Christ Jesus. The Vine Dres- \nser holds the pruning knife, and with consummate \nskill severs one exuberant branch after another, till \nthe tree may appear well nigh shorn of its beauty. \nSoon, the roots being imbedded in a soil watftred by \nthe river of God, branches more fresh and green will \nput forth ; and if permitted to remain in the garden be- \nlow, it will flourish, bud, blossom, and bear the choic- \nest fruit; if transp\\awXe\\\\ \\c^ v\\\\^«'\\\\^^\\i'\\Vic^^«. it will \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAINERD TAYLOR. 303 \n\nbloom and bear fruit for ever. And shall we oomplam \nthat he removes a plant from a poorer to a richer soil \n— frum the shade to the sunshine ? \n\n** Think it not strange, my brother, when all that \nare combined against you level their force against \nyour honest intentions to do the work of an evangelist; \nfor remember the case of our Elder Brother, who \nwent about doing good. Even Peter assumed the of- \nfice of dictator, and began to rebuke him, saying, ^ Be \nit far from thee, Lord.' Is it not sufficient that the \nservant (J'ouxoc) be as his master 1 — Remember too the \ngreat Apostle Paul, when with one accord they be- \nsought him not to go up to Jerusalem. * Then Paul \nanswered, what mean ye to weep and to break my \nheart? for I am ready not to be bound only, but al- \nso to die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Je* \nsus? Paul would not be persuaded : neither let my \nbrother be persuaded, until convinced by Him who \nhath put him into the ministry. And let him count it \nall joy to suffer for Christ's sake. Only get on ^ the \nwhole armor,' and then, though a host encamp against \nyou, in the Lord you will do valiantly. \n\n\" If you do not enjoy the light of God's countenance, \nthen must you be in double agony. I would that you \nwere filled all the day long with faith and with the \nHoly Ghost. I need not suggest it — but so I find it — \nto come to a solemn pause, and get near to the Lord, \nserves as a thousand arguments against the world, \nthe fiesh, and the devil. May you experience more \nand yet more of the love of God. In carrying you and \nyour interests to God, I have at times enjoyed liberty \nand nearness of access. \n\n\" I am reading, with interest, Edwaid^ o\\ixV% KS»^ \n\n\n\n304 MEUOU OF \n\ntions, speak regularly once a week in the African \nchurch, and meet on Monday evening the young con- \nverts. I think I take an increased interest in reading \nthe Bible. The world and its honors dwindle into \nthe shade more and more. May I ever cherish the dis- \nposition, God being my keeper, to spend my all m \nturning sinners to the Shepherd and Bishop of souls. \n\nA Christian salutation to Mrs. . As always, yours, \n\n\" James B. Taylor •' \n\nTo the same. \n\n\" Nassau HaU, Sept. 1, 183&. \n** Dearly beloved Brother, \n\n^4 am sorry on your account, that so much darkness \npervades your soul. You need to walk in the light, \nfor many reasons — for your own comfort, for the com- \nfort of others, for the glory of God, and for the edifica- \ntion of the body of Christ, which is the church. \n\n\" I have testified to you verbally, and by letter, con- \ncerning some of the blessings God has vouchsafed to \nme. Of all the blessings in the house of my pilgnm- \nage, one experienced last evening was perhaps the \ngreatest. I will not attempt, with pen and ink, to de- \nscribe it. Help me, my loving brother, help me to \npraise the Lord.\" \n\n\" Sept. 22, 1825. \n\n\" James to his dearly beloved and afllicted brother. \nLittle did I expect to receive the intelligence I did this \nmorning of your illness. Think it not strange, my \ndear brother, that you are ftick ; ' for whom the Lord \nlovelh, he chasteneth.' Try to receive this visitation, \nas among your ^ all things *,' aud ^We thanks^ ^ for this \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 305 \n\n^8 the will of God, in Christ Jesus, concerning you.' \nPerhaps my brother is not so much alarmed about his \nbody, as he is solicitous that his affliction may be sanc- \ntified. Truly this should concern us most ; for let \nwhat will befall the outer man, if the inner man be re- \nnewed day by day, we shall grow strong for eternity \nwhither we constantly tend. Are you tossed and not \ncomforted 1 Do you spend wearisome days and tedi- \nous nights 1 I have been weeping and wrestling in \nprayer for you. While looking upward for myself, I \nremembered you ; for how could I forget one to whom, \nunder God, I am so much indebted, and to whom I \nbear a weight of love? I thought of asking for your \nhealth, your life ; for I saw beside you, your E., and \naround you, your children ; I saw you an elder in an \ninfant church, and exerting, as I hoped, a happy influ- \nence along the path of life ; yet for all this I could on- \nly say, * The will of the Lord be done.' My weeping \nand wrestling for you, my dear brother, was according \nto the will of God, that you might be holy and with- \nout blame before him in love ; that if your soul was \nbeclouded, the Sun of righteousness might arise upon \nyou ; that our Captain would drive back the enemy, \nand give you the victory ; for this was all I could ask \nfor myself.. I saw, moreover, that though your life \nappeared in many respects to be needful, yet for you, \nas well as myself, another life was in reserve, to en- \nter upon which we must die. Is there a mansion for \nus in the skies, and shall we not enter in 1 Is it the \nFather's good pleasure to give us the kingdom, and \nshall we not possess it? To me earth is no way de- \nsirable but to live for God. And let me t^VV ^q>\\^\\!&2^ \ninflate I bare thought myself ueai nrj xe^x\\xi%-^^^^« \n\n26* \n\n\n\nS06 MEMOIB OP \n\nI Lave been brought into so close a fellowship with \nGod, that I knew not but I was breathing' out my soul, \nto fly away. Yes, and it is the ecame»t^ the Jbretatte \nof glory which the Lord has given me, that lifts me \non high. \n\n\" The Lord is, I think, preparing me either to be \nmore useful, or to take me to heaven. His will, not \nmine, be done. \n\n'*lt may be that my dear brother rests under the \nsmiles of our heavenly Father. Let us then cling \nclose to the hope that is within us, stand firm at our \nstation, endure with patience, fight valiantly. For this \nwe must prepare in the inner chamber ; with God in \nsecret the harness is generally put on, and for the \nmost part with weeping and contrition. May our \nhearts be bruised and healed, so that we shall be \n* without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing.' \n\n'* Should you be apprehensive that you shall leave \nus soon, let my brother do the work he would do. Be \nfaithful to me — be faithful to E.«-be faithful to your \nfamily, to your minister, to all. \n\n^^Let your house be set in complete order. Seek \nfor a clear, undoubting evidence of your acceptance* \nStop not short of meetness for glory and glorified so* \nciety. ' Without holiness no man shall see the Lord.' \nThe very God of peace sanctify you wholly. And I \npray God your whole soul, and body, and spirit may \nbe preserved blameless unto the coming of the Lord \nJesus. Faithful is he who has called you ; who also \nwill do it. Only seek him with your whole heart \n\n\" Holiness captivates my soul. It is this that gives \n\nthe character of God its glory, in my view. It is <Asf \n\nthat makes the charactei of ai^i^c^ft vii^ ^v%ei£&^\\ni \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAUIERD TATLOS. 907 \n\nspirits lovely in contemplation. It is this that makes \nheaven desirahle. And it is this that illumes my soul, \nand allies it to the most holy on earth. My cry is. \nLord, give me wisdom and holiness. And let this be \nthe burden of your prayer for me — that I may be wise \nto win souls, and holy to enter heaven. \n\n\" Let me comfort myself, saith Edwards, that it is \nthe very nature of afflictions to make the heart better ; \nand if I am made better by them, what need I be con- \ncerned how grievous they may seem for the present ?\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VL \nLast Tear in College* \n\n^ To a Lady in feeble health. \n\n\"Ort. 26, 1825. \n\n\" Acknowledging the receipt of your epistle, which \ncame to hand a few days since, I am constrained to \ncomply with your request, * write to me,* With the \nother, which was, ^pray for me,' I have just complied, \nwith tears and strong cries. \n\n'^ Blessed be the Beloved that he has proved him- \nself your elder brother — a friend always near. How \nrelieving — O, how unburdening to the soul, is a gush \nof tears — sweet tears of love and gratitude ! they have \njust flowed from my weeping eyes. \n\n\" I am glad that your spirit was refreshed by the \ncoming of Christian friends ; and fot t.lL«.\\t ^Qrci<^«x:^\\sn. \niMfth f0u and me* Let as not ibkik \\\\ «tc«:&%^> ^^^^'^tw^ \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n308 MEMOIR OP \n\nwe see the image of Christ reflected more brightlf iB \nthe walk and conversation of some of his disciples \nthan others, we are tempted to chide ourselves for not \nloving^ all equally. It is indeed written — 'By this \nshall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have \nlove one towards another ;' and ' we know that wt \nhave passed from death to life, because we love the \nbrethren.' But the question is, Who is my brother? \nIs it one who has been baptized ? goe*i to the comma- \nniou- table? talks a&ot^ religion ? Our Savior tells \nus — * Whosoever shall do the will of my Father which \nis in heaven, the same is my brother J \n\n^^ Instead of adding one pain to your already acca- \nmulated sufferings, I would relieve you of all — ex- \nchange your weakness for strength — your confinement \nfor the pleasant fields. But, I apprehend, the days of \nmy sister, if not already gone by, are soon to be num- \nbered. This I know does not alarm you. You are \nconversant with the dying hour in anticipation. \n\n^^ I am seated where, by a turn of the head, I have \na beautiful prospect. I can overlook a village once \nthe scene of labors both interesting and profitable. \nThere was a revival there three years ago last spring \nthe fruits still appear. It reminds me of the latter day, \nwhen all shall know the Lord. The fields and trees \nthat meet my eye cause me to sing, \n\n* Sweet fields beyond the swelliDg flood, \nStand dress'd in living groen.' \n\n** And the river that flows by, lifts the thoughts to \nthe ' pure river of the water of life^ clear as crystal, \nproceeding out of the throne of God and the Lamb' \nThe grazing sheep and their fold speak, in associa- \n\n1, oithe good BteiAx«^i^Di^^'^^^^^^^^^^'^^» \n\n\n\nJAHES BBAIMERD TAYLOR. 309 \n\n'^ The sun has sunk beneath the horizon to illumine \nanotJier hemisphere. Ere long our sun shall go down : \nmay it set to rise resplendent in a better, brighter \nworld. ^ They that be wise shall shine as the sun ; \nand they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars \nfor ever and ever.' How happy his lot who takes his \ndeparture to meet the souls whom, under God, he has \nsent to heaven ! O, there is meaning beyond expres- \nsion in what my soul hath felt in this view !-— Pray, \nstill pray, that a great company of sinners, redeemed \nfrom among men, may at last praise God for my in- \nstrumentality. May you be among the wise that trin \nsouls, \n\n\" The blowing of the wind reminds me of the sailor- \nboy, perhaps, far offat sea, becalmed, or wafted by the \nbreeze, or tossed by the tempest ; now he mounts up \nto heaven, then goes down again to the depths. Let \nour sails be wide spread to catch every breeze of hea- \nven ; nor need we take in when the gales of grace blow \nupon them. As one watches the pole-star to prove \nills course correct, so let us look to Jesus, the author \nand finisher of our faith. Thus we shall run clear — \nmake our voyage — enter the haven fully laden-— cast \nanchor, and lie safely moored for ever. \n\n'^ I thank God for his goodness in permitting an ac- \nquaintance between souls so congenial, in this the \nhouse of our pilgrimage. Our communion has been \nholy ; be it perpetuated above. I think I was enabled \nto acquiesce in the will of God. I could, and in a de- \ngree unknown before, bless him for making us mutual \nblessings. That you had been made a blessing to me, \ndid not seem so strange ; but that I should have been \nmode a blessinjr to you, seems stxavij^e uidA^^* \"^^Oi^^ \n\n\n\n310 MEMOIR or \n\nLord knowelh the mean view I hare of myself. If \nalive, (for I know not but I was thinking of one in \nheaven,) I wrestled for heaven's blessing to descend \nand abide with you; and I was blessed in pleading for \nmy dear sister, to whom, as never before, did I feel a \nbinding of soul in Christian fellowship. \n\n'•' From this situation, so pleasant, I could descry a \nscenery more captivating than any seen by mortal eye. \nThrough faith, I took a view of the house not made \nwith hands, and anticipated the day when I should at \nleast hear you sing, and see you bow before the throne. \nYes, my sister, if I should be at a distance, do you \nstrive to get near the throne. \n\n''You recollect 1 mentioned one whose soul seems \nfull of love. O for a host of self-denying, cross-bear- \ning, humble, Bible sons and daughters of the Lord \nAlmighty. \n\n\"It rains — may a shower of grace come to you. \nMay the Holy Ghost descend in his influences upon you \nlike drops of dew. May you be as a well- watered gar- \nden, producing abundantly the fruits of righteousness. \n\n\" I was asked to-night, by a minister, ' \\V hat is sav- \ning faith V I answered him in holy language : - It is \nthat faith which worketh by love, purifieth the heart, \nand overcometh the world.' How exemplified is this \nfaith in some Christians ! Alas, that they are so rare. \nLet these characteristics of the devoted servant of God. \nand all the lineaments of the dear Redeemer, be man- \nifested in us. If there should be but one on earth, \nought yotc not to be the one, who should have the \nwhole mind of Christ? Then would be seen in your \nevery relation of life, what proves the reality, beauty \nand excellency of the leVvgvoiL^ou^ito^ft^^.^^ \n\n\n\nJAMSS BRAINEKD TATLOB. 311 \n\nThe following letter, addressed principally to the \nwife of a beloved brother when she was expected to \ndie, is so full of piety, and faith, and love, that no one \ncan read it, with a serious mind, without admiring the \nwriter, or rather the grace of God in him. \n\n'• Nov. 17, 1825. \n\n\"Your letter, dear brother, came this morning, with \nintelligence which I did not at all expect. Shall I tell \nyou the train of thought it excited ? — That you would be \ncompanionless — your children motherless — that R.'s \nhappy spirit, like an uncaged bird, would fly away^ \nand be at rest. \n\n\" Were you, my dear brother, were you, as some are, \nI would not write as I do. * But ye, who were some \ntime darkness, are now light in the Lord.' And I \n■write this for your comfort. And if your dear wife \nand my dear sister be alive, and you think it for her \ncomfort, read it to her, as perhaps the last epistle of \nJames to her, just going into eternity. \n\n\" I will address it to her. Sister R., dear sister, \nforgive all my unfaithfulness to you, and once more \npray that I may be blessed with holiness and wisdom. \nLittle did I think of your being the^r*^ of our house* \nhold that would probably be called aw^ay. Little did \nI think that you would be the Jirst to enjoy the privi- \nlege of entering heaven. \n\n\"It is taken. for granted that your soUl is prepared \nfor its exit. This is what each one must be concern- \ned about for himself; for as you know, as individuah^ \nwe stand accountable to Grod for our conduct here; as \nindividuals we must die, and as individuals we must \nh% judged. \n\n\"Persuaded of your acceptaxiee v\\vio\\x^ CXxtviX^ \n\n\n\n312 UEMom OF \n\nstand, stand Jirmly. Throwing yourself into the amu \nof Jesus, wait, wait patiently. Leaning on the bosoo \nof Jesus, fear no harm ; for he hath said^ ' If I go awaf, \nI will come again and receive you unto myself.' \n\n^'When I remember that God has an economy cf \ngrace, as well as of nature — that the kingdom of grace \nis governed by a holy King, himself the Lawgiver, \nI am consoled ; for certain I am that he will act so as to \nconstrain all his subjects to see that he hath clone all \nthings well. Hence, my sister, should he call yoa \naway, I cannot but acquiesce, and say, ' The Lord \nreigneth.' However much you are beloved on earth, \nyou would go where you would be loved much more — \nCDJoy 9. holy society in a holy place, and be employed \nin rendering a perfect service to your God and mine. \nHence — however much /love you, and were it the will \nof God, I would detain you here long — I would be the \nfirst lo sing, though with streaming, eyes, \n\n* 'Tis finishM, the conflict is past, \n\nThe heaven-born spirit is fled, \nHer wish is accomplish'd at last, \n\nAnd now she's entombM with the dead : \nThe months of affliction are o'er, \n\nThe days and the nights of distress; \nWe see her in anguish no more ; \n\nShe's gained her Jiappy release/ \n\n\" Should I hear of your death, I would look up and \nthank God, that now, instead of earth, paradise is yours. \nI would think of you as a happy spirit that had enter- \ned ' through the gale into the city.' Having overcome, \nand being seated with Christ on his throne, you would, \nas a spirit, commune with God — commune with an- \ngels who are ministering spirits — commune with saints \nwhoJiBye gone up ihrougYv gt^^xu^\\x\\^\\:\\wi.,i!cii^xc\\ia \n\n\n\nivho^fe g \n\n\n\nJAME3 BRAINBRD TAYLOR* 313 \n\nare the spirits of the just made perfect. Think, too, \nof some of yoar friends who have died in the faith— \nof those who follow after, but above all of Jesus, whom \nyou shall see as he is. \n\n\" When on the Mount Zion above, whether you \nshall look down on things below or not, think of James, \nand praise the name of the Lord for the blessings I \nhave received — the earnest of the heavenly rest. What \nthe employments of the saints are, you will know more \nparticularly ^ when on Zion you stand.' Of^^i>yoa \nmay be as certain as you are certain that you are a \nchild of God — you shall behold a wonderful sight. \n* Father,' said Jesus, * I will that they whom thou hast \ngiven me, be with me where I am, that they may be^ \nhold my glory? \n\n'^ To comfort you and your afflicted husband, re* \nmember the laws of the kingdom : ' Thy statutes have \nbeen my song in the house of my pilgrimage.' How \noften was this the case with David in his affliction. \nOne law of the kingdom is, that the subjects of Zion's \nKing must enter heaven — but he, even our God and \nKing, hath reserved to himself the right of ordering \nfor his subjects. Would we be at our own disposal? \nWe feel safest in his hand. Then as it is appointed to \nmen once to die, who can rightly designate the time \nand circumstances 1 God, who sees the end from the \nbeginning ; or we, who know not what a day may bring \nforth 1 Be comforted ; let not your heart be troubled. \nI hope to have a mansion too. Then, whether you or \nI be called first, seeing that the will of God is done, \nwhat should we be concerned about but a full prepa- \nration for heaven ? \n\n••If you recoveTj we will be tlianli!L&]\\« \\^'^cvl^^» \n\n27 i.'ft.t^iVR. \n\n\n\nmay jaa be calmly dismissed, or go with a shoot, as \nit is appointed. As the entranee is mttnafered, is it \nnot all one whether we die calmly or ezultingly ? la \nthis, as other things, let the will of the Lord be done. \n1 am glad that you can give ap yoor family ; if in the \nhands of the Lord, they are safe. And surely they \nare at his disposal, as we are ourselves. \n\n\" Finally, my sister — my sbter, with whom I have \nsung, with whom I have prayed and wept — fareweU-*- \nwe love one another till death — dying, I will not for- \nget thee — I will remember all your sisterly affection— \nyour kind hospitality ; and when my work shall be \ndone, I will hope to meet you at the right hand of God \n— An affectionate adieu. If you have a dying message \nfor me, leave it with J. \n\n\" Brother, in conclusion, I think all I can say on this \noccasion, is, the will of the Lord be done. The wave \nmay yet roll back upon you great things which you \nhave not known. This may be the vehicle in which \nshall be conveyed the greatest blessings : only trust in \nGod. ^Be still, and know that I am God,' saith Je- \nhovah. He hath been with you ; and although clouds \nand darkness are round about him, yet justice and \njudgment are the habitation of his thrdne. There- \nfore be not faithless, but believing. Look for a Jiappif \nissue out of all your troubles. \n\n^^ Your sympathizing brother, \n\n\"James.\" \n\nTo his brother and sisters F., E., and A., then at \n\nNew-Haven. \n\n** Nassau Hall, Dec. % 182&. \n\n^ You have doubtless iLuoTrxi xVl^ ^toxsix^^ ^^%\\&tAc IL's \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD tATLOR. 3f5 \n\nillness. On the Wednesday previous to my leaving \nPrinceton for New- York, brother J. wrote, ' Probably \nbefore this reaches you our dear R. will commence the \nsong of angels.' I answered this letter, and addressed \none to her, which was read to her, and she was melt- \ned to tears. * O,' said she, ' I love James ; tell him \nfrom me, that now I can go with him into heaven : noi \nuntil this affliction could I see as he saw, but now I \ncan rise with him to the top of Pisgah.' I say not \nthese things to exalt myself, but to magnify the grace \nof God. \n\n\"Her room appeared to be filled with the glory of \nGodj and her soul to be lighted up with the brightness \nof his coming. She was Rifull liberty, 'If the Son \nshall make you free, you shall be free indeed.' She \ncould say in a higher sense than before, * I waited pa- \ntiently for the Lord, and he inclined unto me and heard \nmy cry. He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, \nout of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and \nestablished my goings; and he hath put a new song \ninto my mouth, even praise to my God.' \n\n\" Before this she had very composedly taken leave \nof all. Her husband had received her dying message, \nand apparently heard her sigh the last adieu. Her \nchildren listened to her dying counsel ; on the verg^ \nof eternity she spoke to all, and they were melted to \ntears. \n\n** Wednesday night there was a favorable change. \nAnd it was when man had given her up — when she \nhad rejoiced in the prospect of being in eternity in an \nliQQr — when the shroud and the coffin were full in view, \nthat God interposed. He spake, and it was doQ,e« \n\n\n\n310 MEMoiB or \n\n'Back from the borders of tiie gjmw \nAt thy command she's come ; \nNor did she urge a speedier flight \nTo her celestial home.* \n\n\" Yoa will conclade tlTat I enjoyed a pleasant \nson with her, in our conyerse, and in songs of praise \nand prayer. Indeed it was a 'green pasture,' where \nwere fed not only those who were around her more \nimmediately, bat other sheep of the same fold went \nin and out and found pasture. Upon this green spot \n— green, because of the divine influence in the show- \ners of grace and the shining of the 'Sun of righteous- \nness' — upon this green spot there was herbage, of \nwhich the pastor also partook and was refreshed. The \ncircle in which they moved was tenderly affected, and \nseemed awake to set their house in order. To brother \nJ. it has been a glorious visitation. With his compa- \nnion, he seemed neither above nor below the will of \nGod. To mother it has been, as she expressed it, in \nall her grief a happy season. To our father it has \nproved a time of refreshing. To me it has been the \noccasion of setting my affections on things above yet \nmore than ever. Has not this visitation been fraught \nwith mercies to you — each of you ? That it may prove \nyet more the means of good to us individually, let us \neach lay it to heart : I mean her caypenence. She \nwondered that she had not come into such a blessing \n\nbefore. \n\n\" In her case we have the encouragement to ask and \nespect great blessings. To this is superadded, 'great \nand precious promises.' Let one full of import be re- \ncited : ' Call unto me, and I will answer, and show thee \ngreat and mighty thiBgs,^hich tKoa hast not known.' \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 317 \n\nAfter all we have known, there are still ^ great and \nmighty things.' After all that we see, still the pro- \nmise is good. If 'great and mighty things' be not in \nthe experience oieach^ on w4om shall the blame rest? \nLet us seek not low attainments, but great and mighty \nuprisings towards heaven. \n\n\" From R.'s faithfulness in sickness let us learn the \nimportant lesson of being faithful in health. And in \nall we do, let us ask, how will this appear on my dy- \ning bed ? Thus may we be led to act, not with a view \nto man's judgment, but in accordance with the will of \nGod. \n\n\" If our sister be restored, still it remains for some \none of our number to lead the way to the bar of God. \nYou know that a part of my grave-clothes were once \nmade. How soon the winding-sheet may be my at- \ntire or yoursy who can tell ? But sure the funeral knell \nmay soon tell our departure. How solemn is that \nsound : ' Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust !' \n\n\" Let us, in minding our duty, keep where our sis- \nter would keep — near to God in secret, near to God in \nall our intercourse with others ; for, holding converse \nwith him, we shall be transformed into his likeness — \nthe more like God, the more holy — the more holy, the \nmore happy, and the better fitted for a heaven whose \nglory is holiness. Then, living or dying, all will be \nwell. \n\n* I*m glad that I was bom to die.' \n\n\" Do you each see your way clear 7 Is it lighted up \ntvith glory as you pass along? or are you walking in \ndarkness ? Then you must stumble — you must ha' \nO, it cannot be otherwise. And \\£ \\X \\i^ >^>a&^ V \n\n27* \n\n\n\n318 \n\nwtetk jaa with « broAei's lotey and as thoog^ tkif \nwere mf dyin^ words, remoTe the stomMhig-hlocfcfc \nFind oat, bring to light, and slaj ererj enemy. B»* \nbor not one — no, not on* disloyal subject. IjeCJcsas \nbe King^ and let him reign withoot a liTaL O, how \nmany, for the indulging of one sin, have preTenled \neonTietion and eonrersion ; and for want of these, how \nmany haTe sunk to hell ! And tell me of a daifcer \nsign in a professor, than one sin of any kind indniged* \nShoold not that be enough to lead him to question hit \nbeing in a gracious state? My brother — my sisters, \nwitness my determination ; Grod being my helper, I \nwill love and #erve him. It is my choice. Be ye al- \nso more than erer determined. As a family, and as \nindividuals, let us lire to Grod. Give to the rain the \nvanities c^ time. Give to the worlding its ^fleeting \nshow.' Let the lovers of pleasure grasp at a phantom. \nBe it ours to seek and possess the chief good ; lay up \ntreasure in the heavens, and reach for the prize. Then, \nas a family and as individuals, we shall answer the \nend of our being — live in the fear and love of God, \ndie exulting, and wing our way to the paradise above. \nThere, if not below, I will wait to meet you. \n\" With a brother's love, \n\n« Jaicbs B. Taylor.'* \n\n\"Nassau BaU, Dee. 39, 188& \n*' Dear Brother, \n\n^^Your letter has come to band. No item called \nforth more grateful emotions than the testimony oi \nyour having more sensibly the presence of the Lord. \nIndeed, I praise the God of our salvation for his \n^ov§ to my brothet in xYoa i««\\^cx, \\ \\s\\xsx ^ ^irill \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 319 \n\nviiit you yet more copiously. May you have gospel- \nmeasure. \n\n*^ Of late I have rejoiced that there is an eternity — \na glorious eternity. Separated now, there we shall \nmingle, and with saints and angels join. How then \nshould we act on earth ! O, had disembodied spirits \nto act oyer another life, how active would they be ! \nBrother, what would the saint who died rich, now do \nwith his money were he here ? Would the thousands \nthat have been scattered to the winds by prodigal heirs \nbe again put into their hands ? or would they be sa- \ncredly disposed of for Grod ? How much better, ' in \nthat day,' to be found among those who have been \nmore solicitous to furnish the church with able minis- \nters of the New Testament, than to adorn after-gene- \nrations with vanity! And who dare say, that by do- \ning more for God and less for heirs, souls would not \nhave been saved ?\" \n\nIn the following from Mr. Taylor's diary, his com- \nmunion with God, and resignation to the divine will, \nshine conspicuously, and are worthy of the imitation \nof all that come after him. \n\n\" Dec. 30, 1825. — Had, at evening devotion, an un- \ncommon blessing, such in kind and degree as perhaps \nI never had before. I sang, \n\n* Hail lOTereign love, that fin t began.' \n\n^ Being led to examine whether I could acquiesce \nin the will of Ciod, I asked, (but it seemed as if He \npat the question,) ' Coold you, weie Oo^ x^wi^ \n\n\n\nMt ftom f oar pomit, could yoo i rlinq pi iili the \ntry V My f^ly was, Lord, thoo knowest this tonrkri \nio the temderest point— jet I could yield at thy bid- \ndin^ — gfo to the ploo^ or to the most servile employ- \nment. To me it seemed that my will was whoUf re- \nsolved into the will of God. It was a holy talk with \nhearen, and beyond expressioB sweet. Gratitiide in- \nexpressible filled my heart, and struggled for utter- \nance. I fell before the Lewd in ray accustomed kneel- \nin^>place, and attempted a thank-offering. \n\n'^ Had an opportunity to talk faithfully to a candi- \ndate for the ministry. I told him, that, with my pie- \neent views, it would never do for me to live and net as \nmost ministers do. O what an account must ale^iag \nwatchmen give! And how will ministers appear^ if \nat last they should cry out. Lost — ^lost for ever ! Loid \ngive me holiness and wisdom. I will hope to lay out \nmyself for God. I woald rather lay me down and die \nthan live to dishonor thee.\" \n\nDiary, \"January 1, 1836 — Sabbath evening. — Ha>e \njust risen from my kneel ing-place, where I thanked \nthe Lord, at the remembrance of his mercies — for food \nand raiment — for health — for the use of all my senses \n— for the privilege of living alone — for literary advan- \ntages, books, and instructors. And the visits of his \nlove the past year have been frequent — my record \ngpoaks of some. I have not recorded all, nor all my \no:)errations. My record is on high. The Lord know- \ncth. Clothed in the Redeemer's righteousness, it i$ \nenouffh. \n\n^' I thanked the Lord for my parents — that they have \nVffl spared— my broxVi^ts ^ti^ %\\a\\«t% w^. h^LV^^ora^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINBRD TAYLOR. 381 \n\nsickness has entered our borders and threatened the \nremoval of two of our number, they both live. I thank- \ned the Lord for benefactors, praying friends, and cor- \nrespondents. \n\n*' My prayer was, and is repeated — Lord, bless me \nthis year also. Show me ^ great and mighty things \nthat I know not.' Bless me not only, but make me a \nblessing to my brethren in the college — make me a \nblessing to the college — to the town — to my relations \nand friends. Bless the church — the sons of Levi — the \ncandidates for the ministry — scatter light among the \nnations of the earth. Great things have been witness- \ned during the past year. This has been an indescrib ■ \nably happy new year's day to me. \n\n'^ While the brethren were at prayer in my room this \nmorning, (as usual on Sunday morning,) a letter was \nleft on my desk, of which the following is a copy : \n\n* Sir,— You are suspected d— d strongly of having informed \nthe faculty of the misdemeanors of several of the students. \nThe evidence against you, though circumstantial, is of the \nstrongest kind. You will for the future be strictly watched^ \nand therefore it will be prudent for you to visit your brother§, \nthe tutors, as seldom as possible ; for if detected, your punish- \nment is inevitable. Do not treat this with levity. If you do \nyou must suffer the consequences.' \n\n<' I was a little surprised at such a letter ; but the \ncharity that ' beareth all things ' was in exercise. My \nsoul yearned for the unknown individual who wrote \nthe letter. I longed, with weeping eyes and groans \nwhich could not be uttered, to see him a returning \nprodigal. My heart broke too for the college* The \nexercise was more earnest than e^et\\>^^Qit^^^T^ \n\n\n\nan • IIEH0I8 or \n\n■round me, yet my will was absorbed in ihe will of \nGod — I saw iliai it belonged lo him to work salralion. \nMy soul was lifted up with ila longings for a blessing \non the preaching to-day, and with streaming eyes 1 \n«rose, at the riaging of the hell, and hastened to hear \nthe word. Shall we not see better days 7 \n\n' I wrote on the aforesaid letter, ' Greater Is he that \nis for me, than all they that are against me.' 'Ilegiveih \nhis angels charge concerning thee, lest at any time \nthou dash thy fool agaiosl a stone.' I add, ' Who shall \nharm you, if ye be followers of that which is good) \nThe Lord is on our side.' \n\n\"A report is in circulation that an individual hsJ \nBaid he tihould consider hioiself bound lo report to the \nAiculty the bad conduct of students. Though I am \nnot the person who said this, if it was ever said, pro- \nbably the suspicion has fallen on me. Amen, They \nmeant it for evil; God meant it for good. A greal \nblessing has come to me through an emissaTf ol \nSaian. — O bow would my arms of lore open to him \nif he would come to Christ. O for the descent of the \nHoly Ghost. \n\n\"Wrote my usual new year's letter to our family.\" \n\n\" Naisau Halt, January 1, 1826. \n\n\" As usual, I suppose my parents, brothers, and sis- \nlers will be eipecting a new year's letter. They \nshall not be disappointed — A happy new year to yoo \nnli~to me it has happily begun. \n\n\" To us, collccliTely and individually, the yenr 1835 \nhds been fraught with good. Prosperity has been with- \nin OUT borders. Called, indeed, to talk of judgmeats, \nwe have sung of meiciea. k\\\\,Wt.^«i'aa.^i«ni<mnM \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. ' 9^ \n\nihan James, are laid under renewed obligations to lova \nand seive the Lord. \n\n\" Recounting the goodness of God to me, I find that \nIt reaches to the clouds. But *wlien on Zion we \nstand,' we hope to talk of all his goodness. You have \nhad my testimony already of some of those manifesta- \ntions I have enjoyed. Suffice it for the present to say, \n\n* The more thy glory strikes mine eyes, \nThe lower I shall lie : \nThus while I sinky my soul shall rise \nImmeasurably high.' \n\n\" I thank our God that he has continued our parents \nwith us another year — our parents, always beloved by \nus^ all. They have fostered us — they have trained us \nup — they have wept for us — they have prayed for us \n^-they love us. May their declining sun shine yet \nfair, and set in splendor. Methinks I hear my parents \nsay, we will praise the Lord ; yes, we will praise the \nLord for all his goodness to us and ours. If we listen \nto your testimony, shall we not hear you witness to \nthe visits of our heavenly Father? O yes, you each \nknow what it is to hold fellowship with the Father, \nand with his Son Jesus Christ. You know what it is \nto hold converse with God in secret ; and doubtless the \ndaily desire of your hearts is, 'Evermore give us this \nbread ;' nor do I doubt that your daily prayer goes up \nfor our advance in the way of holiness. \n\n\" Shall brother E. and sister M. see this ? A hap- \npy new year to them. I need not repeat here, what \njou often converse on together. Every minister, and \nevery minister's wife, must think of souls under their \ncare — souls to be trained for heaven, who are already \nin the wsty, and souls yet in. their sins. \n\n\n\n984 KEMom or \n\n'^ Brotker F., bow do yoa lire in college 1 I do Ml \nhear from you. Are you getting much knoWledgt \nupon your knees 7 ' And tliey shall all be taught of \nGod.' Take the promise that I have taken. ^ Call \nunto me, and 1 will answer.' Live so in college^ that \nwnen you graduate, you may stand beside your bro- \nther, and with him tell the world that there is no plaee \nmore eligible for advancement in holiness than col- \nlege. O, let us ' die daily ' to the world, and have our \nsouls so imbued with that knowledge whieh does not \ncome from books, that, Moses like, others may see \nthat we have been with Qod. Then, as before Moses, \nsmners will tremble before us. O for a holy umction, \n\n\" In the commencement of this new year, kt ua all \nbe solemn. With many it is a day of mtrtb« Let ns \nthink on our latter end. We shall find it profitable \nto do it frequently. Is once a week too often ? For \none, I believe I try to do it daily, I go to the grave- \nyard for this : I sit on the tomb'stones and read, ' Here \nlies,' and think on my shroud and coffin — the tolling \nbell — the funeral procession — the open grave — the fall- \ning earth — I love to die in imagination. There is \nnothing more interesting to me than death scenes. I \nknow not indeed that my parents shall surround my \ndying bed; nor that my brother or sisters shall watch \nmy parting breath. I am not worthy of their kind of- \nfices ; I may die, a stranger in a strange land. But \nwhat of this? To lie beside my fathers' sepulchres \nwould indeed be grateful : but one point of the eartli \nis as near to heaven as another ; and, although we may \nnot rise from the same burying-place, the same tram- \npet shall awaken us, and we shall arise to the tama \n^tfares. Let ua trf to >]ii¥&^ ^«.^^ xer^ ^aKvi^ vi^^ ikn \n\n\n\nJAMCB BRAIKGRD TAYLOR. 335 \n\nF«veral reasons i 1. That we may fix our faith more \nfirmly on the doctrines of the Bible: the doctrines of \nmen will not stand in a dying hour. 2. That our \nworldly pursuits may be rightly regulated. 3. That \nwe may seek morie earnestly full preparation. 4. \nThat when afiiicted we may the better sustain it. 5. \nThat we may forgive and act towards all as becometh \nthe dying. Redeem the time, and so be ever ready \nand waiting for the coming of the Son of man. \n\n\" To conclude. Let us, in entering upon any busi- \nness, inquire whether it be lawful. Let all worldly at- \ntachments and pursuits hang loosely about us. Let \nour houses be set in complete order. Let us begin \nnothing of which we have not well considered the \nend. When you shall have read this, I wish each of \n\nyou to go aside and pray for • \n\n\"James.\" \n\nDiary. January 3. — \"Am truly blessed of God. Be- \nfore the commencement of service at the usual Tues- \nday evenius: meeting, I sat musing and invoking a \nblessing. The Lord came apparently with his servant \n— as he prayed, my soul seemed to gain new vigor — \nand while we sung. But as he spoke, a heavenly in- \nfluence dropped— distilled — poured into my soul. The \nHoly Ghost seemed to come down — and I felt hot with \nhallowed fire. It was an increase upon the blessing \nof last Sabbath — for it was a struggle for soiSls. Tht; \nsubject was, *God tries the patience of his children.' \nI felt that mine had been tried, and lunged for his \ncoming. Ilis address being finished, I prayed. It was \nstill a solemn time, and the divine influence seemed \n\nto increase— while this was lUc buideii ol o\\rc ^wj^i*' \n\n28 i.\\i.T».'s^« \n\n\n\ndS6 MEMOUL or \n\nHoliness for ourselves, and conversion and holinm \nfor the impenitent. \n\n\" Spent a couple of hours in his room with the preach* \ner and brother J., where I gained new vigor, exul \ntation, and triumph, and some practical knowledge. \nReceived a letter which made my soul leap for joy. \nHow thankful I ought to be for the addition of this ac- \nquaintance during the last year. It will doubtless be \nconsummated in heaven. The Lord blesses us, and \nmakes us a blessing to each other.\" \n\nTo Rev. Mr. H , of S \n\n\" Nassau Hallj JantCary 15, 1826. \n** To my revorendt mj esteenujd Friend, and th« Church in bis honn: \n\n<' I need not tell you how often I have perused tho^e \ntwo letters received from my venerated father in the \nGospel, nor say that they are among the most valued \nof my letters received. Think then how much I have \ndesired a third and a fourth. Almost a year has elaps- \ned since the date of the last. My affection for you all \nwill not allow me to suppose that I shall intinide br \nonce more breaking in upon a leisure half hour of \nyours. \n\n''If not too late, a happy new year to you, and your \ndear family. How gladly would I spend this evening \nwith you, in recounting the mercies of the last year. \nTo you it has been full of loving-kindness — your fa- \nmily circle has been unbroken — your happy mansion \nhas been screened from *the pestilence that walketh in \ndarkness, and the destruction that wasteth at noon- \nday.' While others have been called to follow their \ninmates to the narrow house, you all live. • \n\n\"Believing that yo^ *vV\\\\ ^»^V,^^ ^^«v W«^,xs^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 327 \n\nyour young friend as when you wrote, * My family, \nwith many pleasant recollections, unite with me in the \nbest wishes and prayers for your best welfare and \nhighest usefulness,' I need not apologize for speaking \na little of myself; for to me the year 1825 has been \nsignalized with many blessings. ^ Ten thousand \nthousand precious gifts my daily thanks employ.' Al- \nmost uninterrupted health — local privileges, heaven \nnigh — special baptisms of the Holy Ghost, producing \nquietness and confidence^ in which for the most part \nItas been my strength, \n\n' Through all eternity to thee \nA grateful song I'll raise ; \nDut, O etemity*s too short \nTo utter all thy praise/ \n\n^' I might specify particular blessings, but it would \nextend beyond the bounds of a letter. With me, now \nas you read, give thanks to Him whose mercy endur- \neth for ever. \n\n*^ One of the richest blessings during the past year, \ncame in the application of this promise : ' Call upon \nme, and I will answer, and show thee great and miglT- \nty things which thou knowest not.' O, it was glo- \nriotiSj glorious beyond description. At some time pre- \nrious, perhaps two weeks, I opened Clarke on the Pro- \nmises. This^ among others, I read, I treasured it up \nin memory — I believed it — I took Grod at his word. \nI plead it before him. When applied, it was great and \nmighty in a degree of which I knew nothing before. \nI knew not but the hour of my departure had come. \nIt seemed as if my soul was breathing itself out of the \nbody. \n\n\n\n328 MEMOim OF \n\n*' Duriog the past year my call to preach the Gk)8pel \nlias been made so satisfactorily plain that there is do( \nthe shadow of a doubt on my mind. 'Wo is me if I \npreach not the Gospel.' Like other rich blessings, it \ncame with groans ichich could not be uttered, O for \na letting into our souls the powerful, avmlingi in- \n^Drought prayer. What strength does it g^ve the Chris- \ntian ! How it prepares for an attack from the world, \nthe flesh, or the devil ! What a staff in his walks of \nusefulness I \n\n\"You arc friendly to a candidate's exercising his \ngifts in public. To mc it appears to be an essential part \nof his preparatory training. Its advantages you have \nlong considered. To corroborate my assertion, I could \nmention the case of a clergyman now occupying an \nimportant station as a pastor. In his preparatory \ncourse he was shut up in the city of a close stu- \ndent. Soon after being licensed to preach, he was or- \ndained over the flock he now feeds. He wrote and \nread his sermons. In the pulpit he was orthodox, pi- \nous, learned ; but in the lecture-room I was told he \ncould not proceed. To this kind of training I have \ndevoted some time in the town, as well as in college. \n\n\" As a proof of Paul's apostleship, he pointed to his \nsuccess. To the Corinthians he said, ' The seal of \nmine apostleship are ye, in the Lord.' Shall I tell \nyou ? It is with diffidence, lest you should think nic \nforward and vain. But I will not glory of myself. It \nis a chain in God's providence ; the hook was fasten- \ned upon a very minute circumstance — one link was \nadded to another. One sinner was converted, and an- \nother, and so on to the eighth. Seven have since join- \ntd the church. Waa \\ nox \\\\^^\\»>i Vol ^ww^'s^^ycv?. iUt»ir \n\n\n\nJAME8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 329 \n\nprofession, and in sittiD^ down with them at the table \nof our Lord ? Perhaps, last spring, I labored, besides \nmy studies, as much as some who are more fully in the \nvineyard. It was a season full of interest. From \nweek to- week 1 now try to act, in my degree, the part \nof an U7u2er-shepherd towards those lambs. May you, \nmy dear sir, see them in paradise. \n\n^' The scenes witnessed at Rahway, last spring va- \ncation, form a pleasing association with the year 1825. \nThere, as you may have known, I spent most of five \nweeks. O what a time, when to a room full of young \nconverts I said, ' Finally, brethren, farewell.' Time \nglides smoothly — swiftly ; studies pleasant for the most \npart. The New Testament in the original, for the study \nof which I have the best critical helps, I read with plea- \nsure, and I hope with profit ; this I do daily ; I long to \nbe ' mighty in the Scriptures.' True, a minister may \nbe this, and yet without grace — may be like the sign \nof an inn. For as the one points out a resting-place \nfor the wayfaring man, and yet itself stands without, \nso a graceless minister may point out the resting-place \nand give some good entertainment for the pilgrim, and \nyet himself be blasted with the storms of an eternal \nnight, O ! how many, like the bells of their churches, \nmay have called for others to enter, and may have suc- \nceeded, and yet have not entered themaelves into the \nark ! It was a saying of Hilary, Sanctiores sunt aures \nplebis quam corda aacerdotum; which may be freely \nrendered, ' How many holy sounds are in the ears of \nthe people, that never affected the hearts of the priests.' \n\n'^ Let the burden of your united prayer for me be, \nthat I may be holy and mse. Holy, to enter heaven i \nand wise, to win souls. I hav« itf)X mdi >^ \\ii \n\n28* \n\n\n\n330 MSMOU OP \n\nwould, nor in the manner intended ; bat you have the \nelTasions of a heart oyeifLowing with its best feelings ; \nfor I owe you a weight of love. When I think of that \nstopping-place, there are associated all your cordial \nreceptions, from my ' first entering in unto you'— ail \nyour more than hospitable entertainments — all your \nafi'ectioDate adieus, to one unworthy to come under \nyour roof. Farewell. I long to see you all. ' Happy \nseasons we have seen.' But adieu. \n\n\"James B. TAYi-oa.\" \n\nDiary. \" Feb. 3. — A month has elapsed since I wrote \nin my journal. I sometimes fear I am partial in not \nentering minutely into all my exercises. Bat I only \nrecord special visitations of God ; and hope, in then \nreview from time to time, I may be able afresh to re \nalize 'the good hand of the Lord, which has been \nupon me for good.' \n\n\" About noon to-day I went to seek a nearer view ot \nhim whom my soul loveth, by reading the Tract, ' A \nchoice drop of honey from the Rock Christ ; or a word \nof advice to all saints and sinners.' After dining, I \nmused and read again. I longed for the coming of the \nBeloved — I cast myself before the Lord in my blessed \nkneeling-place, and felt that I owed God more than \nten thousand talents, and had not one — no, not one to \npay : poor — ^poor indeed. With a clear view of the \ndemerit of sin, I could point to Jesus and say, there \nIS my (mly plea. It was enough, for long since hath \nthe Father said, ' In him am I well pleased.' The in- \ndescribable breakings of my heart in laying hold on \nQod, are known to the Giver, It was a sweet — melt \ning season. Sin aeTei) v^Vk^V^^ v^^t^^Ax^d «q odioot; \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 33t \n\nit was in my view the great evil ; and my only groan- \nings, which at times could hardly be uttered, were for \nwisdom and holiness. My every load was taken ofT— \nI smiled under the light of my Father's countenance, \nand glory, glory as a stream, went out in return for so \ngreat a blessing. It had come from God, and now it \nwas going back to God. Yet on my knees, my soul \nwas again melted in view of the goodness of God. \nTo-night attended my meeting in town, which was \nsolemn. \n\n\" Had a most precious season before the Lord while \nreading the Tract, ' The Church Safe.' The strongest \ndesire excited was, that God would glorify himself \nthrough my instrumentality. Spent part of the even- \ning in visiting a sick friend, whose soul seemed re- \nfreshed. Upon my leaving her she said, ' You have \nbeen my best physician to-day.' I hardly ever saw so \nvisible a change in any one as in her during my visit. \nAnother proof that they that wait upon the Lord shall \nrenew their strength.\" \n\nTo Mr. D. and family. \n\n<' So far as I can see, this appears to be the order in \nwhich blessings sometimes come upon me. The Lord \ngives me to see my meanness, miworthiness, nothing- \nness, and ill desert, until brought into the deepest hu- \nmiliation. Then opens Christ's beauty, worth, full- \nness, and his raising the sinner as high as his sins \nwould sink him low. Then, with streaming eyes, bro- \nken heart, groans unutterable, the soul longs for the \ncoming in of God — ^pants for. the overflowing of the \ncooling stream^has an unction fraia \\Yift l^cA^) C^*^ \n\n\n\n71 . • MML^ \n\n332 MMUNr -^ ' \n\n\n\nftsit aboondt Itf lofv, w^prae^, iM jdys ' ftaefr rviife \nof lore I elpeiieiie«d yestirdtf: Bootetinies wiifl0< \n«tfi^ the fire Irarns— tlw Fathtor ymi te ii \"m d \nnion is sweet. Thus, for the meet pifft, my sdoliiftfiBf \nin ^qaiemess and eonfidene*;' Otdhe^RurtalDAaefldii \nholiness. \n\n'^ 7th. — ^I proposed to a few fellow-atadeiitSi aad \nwould propose to the whole Christiaii woild, that thef \nwould eaeh, in some sort, comply with die deehn* \ntion of the Psalmist, ' that prayer shall also be asads \neofi/lfiiMitf 3f for him f at twelre e'elodt eaeh day, say \nfirom the' heart, ' Thy kingdom come.' \n\n''ThbmoAiing did that for wiiieh I MteoadcBC \ned« It was when olf my guard. I raised my ery to 'tt# \nLord, and trust he heard me. Learned anew tharlaaaoa j \n' Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.* No \none was injured by my sin. Lord, cleanse ihou me \nfkom secret ^ults. \n\n''At evening devotion had a blessed refireahiag. \nSung, \n\nThoa only Sovereign of my heart.* \n\nLooking at the wacchmen on ZionN walls, my heart \nbled for bleeding Zion. Considered Jesus as the grand \nArchitect— as fully equal to the great work ; and felt \npersuaded that the temple would be completed, how* \never unfkithfnl and unskillful the underworkmen mi|^t \nbe. My heart broke with desire for the bringing in of \na more devoted ministry. I saw that he could purify \nthe present ministry, and make them all holy, labori- \nous men— not men-pleaseri. \n\"\"la looking al«TiA£,\\ la\\x VbA«i»idb^^ xaaaaia \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 333 \n\nmy own eyes, and cried out, Oh, my ignorance ! and \nsaw that it must be of the Lcrd if ever I preach the \nQospel. With streaming eyes I rose to fall in my \nknee ling-place, repeating, \n\n* Low at thy feet my soal would lie ; \n\nHere safety dwells and peace divine , \nSliU let me live beneath thine eye, \nFor life, eternal life, is thine.' \n\nI bowed with groan ings which could not be uttered, \nand rose praising the Lord. \n\n\" 11th. — Night before last I got away from God by \nsinning against him. Alas ! how aggravated my sin, \nafter such overpowering visits of love ! Surely I ought \nnever more to have offended him. Since then, but \nmore particularly to-day, till noon, I felt wounded to \nthe quick. ' Being enabled at noon, while reading a \ntract, to arraign myself more closely at the bar of con- \nscience, I plead guilty, fell at the feet of sovereign \nmercy, and God was abundantly gracious to a rebel- \nlious child. He restored my soul. He delivered me \nout of all my distresses. \n\n\" At evening devotion, after reading, kneeled where \nthe heavens have so often opened over me and let down \nlove, abundant, rich and free. I felt fatigued with the \ntabors of the day, and expected soon to rise. I was led \nto supplicate for my father^s house. I asked for the \nlittle ones, and for my nephews and nieces, that they \nmight be Henry Martyns and Harriet Newells. Then \nwith desire inexpressible I longed to be a missionary \nIn the midst of weeping and groaning I saw that I \nwas mean and ignorant ; but that Jesus \\v'j^<^ ^ ^^vcw- \n\n\n\n334 imiODi \n\nplete master-bailder. My cry wms to be made fit fSor \nthe very station upon the icaSbld around his tempk I \nshould occupy. I saw clearly that all things are possi- \nble with Grod — that he could carry me through tha \nwork even of an apostle. Well, he knowetb what vi \nbest — and that is best for me— sick or well — ^prosperi- \nty or adversity — rest or labor — earth or heaven. Amen \nand amen. \n\n\" It was pleasing to offer up my soul and body, mj \ntime, talents, influence, possessions, all that I am or \nhope to be. I felt that the Lord accepted the pittance \nI had to give, which I also felt was his before. I was \ngreatly blessed, and walking my room, praised him as \nthe rock of my salvation. This room will stand a \nwitness to my prayers, those unanswered are lodged \nabove. It will also stand a witness to my follies in \ndeparting from the living God. But they are all for- \ngiven. The praise belongeth unto God.\" \n\nOn the 20th February Mr. Taylor wrote to a Chris- \ntian brother who also had the ministry in view. The \nletter contains some passages that ought to be pre- \nserved. \n\n\" I have just come in from visiting a sick Christian; \nshe is happy — sick and happy. Brother, in our minis- \nterial sphere, should we ever be permitted to walk in \nit, I think no higher office of kindness or badge of \nsonship will be afforded us, than to visit the widow \nand fatherless in their affliction. This is, indeed, reli- \ngion, pure and undefiled before God. Hence it is im- \nportant that we have our memories stored with h^ miu \nsuitable for such occas'vou^. \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 335 \n\n^^ 111 my meditations this evening I thought of Mo- \nbos. He had well nigh entered Canaan ; but, for his \nbio, he was only permitted fromPisgah's top to view \nthe promised land. O how it wrung tears from my \neyes to think it possible, that for past sins, or through \nsins that I might commit, I should be debarred entering \nupon the holy ministry. I know I do not deserve this \nhonor. I could sigh forth a prayer — Lord, whether I \npreach the Gospel or not, purify the sons of Levi, and \nsanctify candidates for their work. \n\n\" Perhaps I never had more confidence in God, as \nto the carrying on of his work in the world. I have \nnot a doubt Jesus will reign. And my soul has been \nexceeding glad. * Every knee shall bow, and everv \ntongue shall confess.' \" \n\nDiary, March 9.—\" On the 2d and 5lh was refresh- \ningly visited by the kind returns of the Spirit, whom I \nhad grieved away. But it was only through groanings \nwhich could not be uttered. This was only a fore- \ntaste of another love-feast which I enjoyed soon aften \nwhen my soul was melted into tenderness, captiva- \nted with holiness, and longed for greater likeness to \nChrist. My views and experience seemed to coincide \nwith Edwards', when he said, ' the heaven I desire is \na heaven of holiness.' This was only the precursor of \nanother and richer blessing at evening devotion. I \nhave yet with the Lord an unanswered petition then \npreferred. I left it with him. I believed the Lord \nuould bless me woiiderfully. I believed all things \nwere possible with him ; and I believed he would \nbless me. Z am waiting for the fulfillment of the expee- \ntatioD raised within me, I jLrast, b^ iW \\\\o\\^ QiN\\«< \n\n\n\n-o >:zjni:B ?i \n\n•• T:.-: v/o/i'i vrane- — a tr.V ■€ s'jrrender is groiTiDg \nin ir.;ip.. ranee. LnrJ. did net I make that surrender \ni>:Iav I Ke^p me — O keer- rae. Have 1 sought the \nh'j'jjrs cf this i2=tirist::r. — or of the iiieniiT socieiT \nvritij wl.icL I am consecied ? Has not ay desire pre- \nvailed 2cr tl.e hoEor that ccmeth from above ? Shall I \ni.'A have to ascribe njucii to ilie distinguishin:! grace \n•jI' G'-'J. !\\r hii keeT'ing aiiJ blessing me in this col- \nlege? May my ambition be to fear, lote and serve \nGod : let otr.ers Mke u:> wiih husks, irive me Christ; \nthe srnile* of niv Fati.er. the presence of mv Com- \n\nw A m \n\nforler. Amen — my loul an J repeated a:nen, \n\n'• 19th. Sabbalh. — la last eveaing-s devotions had \nnearness of access to GoJ in remembering my beloved \np'-irenls. brothers and sisters. Felt particularly for \nbrotiior F. (jvjw in Yale Colleirc^ and nivself, as can- \ndidales f'.r the holv ministrv. I could weep before the \nLord for a baptism of iicly F.re to rest on us both. To- \ngotlicr v»'c iKivc watched our F;iihe:*> tlock. trgether \nmay v/e be faithful undcr-shepherds ever tbe tiock of \nC'ii}(}. I love my brother — I tiu.-t Gcd loves him. Our \nIjf.'irt-i are united. \n\n•• Ilcniembered those among wlioni 1 have been la- \nboring from time to time. AVhat interesting groups of \nyoung converts have I seen. I think 1 have felt some- \nwhat as Paul did, when he said. ' Xcw we live, if ye \nsiund fji-st in the Lord.' Alas ! how soon are the \nlambs torn in pieces ! how alert should the shepherd be. \n\n•' Sabbatii morning.— My soul has melted down at \ntln» presen'n of Jesus'. A pit'ssui'e of love rested on \nmi', and praise, praise, praise in a stream went up from \nmv inmost soul ! This mvstcrv, ' Christ in vou. the \nhope of glory.' lias ucvev ;i\\)\\>v!^TVi'\\ ^^ nn^wvImxCiiL Ilea- \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINEllD TAtLOR. 337 \n\nvi&n appeared truly desirable. Yet I desired to live, if \nI might, to bring many souls to glory. I should love \nmuch to send thither many a band of young converts. \nI desired it much, even if at a distance I should only \nbe a looker-on. My love to Grod's children was great- \nly increased ; and my desire for a clean heart was in- \ntense. It was given, and my eyes ran down with tears \n—sweet tears ! \n\n\" 24th.—* Come unto me, all ye that labor and are \nheavy laden, and I will give you rest ' — selected as \nthe theme for my meeting this evening. Having \nthought of it, it was applied siceetlij to my own soul \nat evening devotion. I was not burdened nor weary ; \nbut my rest was increased. \n\n\" I have been thinking to-day upon our ships of war \nas spheres of future labor. I have thought of them \nbefore, but to-day with some desire, if God will, to \nengage as a chaplain. * A man's heart deviseth his \nway, but the Lord directeth his steps.' May I be a \ngood man ; for the steps of a good man are ordered \nby the Lord. \n\n\" 25th. — From the testimony of a brother who at- \ntended the partj/ last evening, it seems that, as usual, \nlightness prevailed. I was invited ; but attended my \nparty, my usual society meeting. Enough, enough \nhave I had of fashionable tea-parties to prove that, \nto me at least, they are unprofitable. This brother told \nme that he felt the worse for attending. Query, Is it \nright to expend money for the dissipation of the mind ? \nto say nothing of the deleterious elfects that such variety \nof viands, generally taken to satiety, have upon the cor- \nporeal system, especially on persons of sedentary ha> \n\nbits. I was g]ad of so good an apo\\o%^ ^i-^ \\wj tcv^«x\\T*%i \n\n29 1. ^ 't^-sV\"* \n\n\n\n33^ MEUoia or \n\n\" 30th.— Memorable, memorable day ! It has ben \na day of days to me. In it much lias been unspeaka- \nble and full of glory. On my knees I recorded my re- \nsolution never more to boast save in the cross of Christ. \nWhile before the Lord, I hare been much affected \nwith the view of his overwhelming greatness, and of \nmy own infinite — infinite littleness. No wonder thit \nthe beloved disciple became as a dead man. No won- \nder that Moses feared and quaked. But it is indescribt- \nble. I have felt so infinitely unworthy, that I could not \nlook up ; yet my hope in Gk>d is raised on high. God's \ngreatness, connected with his amazing love and con \ndescension, affected me much. I indeed felt constrained \nto say, ' I am a worm, and no man.' \n\n\" The love of Jesus, his life, sufferings and death \nand the opposition to him, as manifested by the im \npenitent, affected me much. The holy influences of \nthe Spirit of grace, and the remembrance of ever hav- \niog grieved him, affected me much. \n\n\" To depart and be with Christ I felt to be desirable. \nThough so undeserving — unworthy even to be a door- \nkeeper in the house of my God here, yet I could anti- \ncipate the day when he would take his exile home. \n\n'^ Heaven was regarded as a holy place. I was glad \nin the prospect of holy society — God, angels, and \nsaints. The thought of dying to know more, was plea- \nsant. But at evening devotion ray will was absorbed \nin the will of God. ^ I give my mortal interests up, and \nmake my God my all.' Praise belongeth unto God. \nLet all things praise him. Praise the Lord, O my soul. \n\n\" April 2. — Sabbath. — * If ye then, being evil, know \nNow to give good gifts unto your children, how much \n\n' I youT FaXViCi 'w\\io \\s Va. >fi«««ii^ ^vi^ the \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 339 \n\nHoly Spirit to them that ask him.' This scripture was \ngraciously applied to me at evening devotion, upon \nwhich I received an increase of the Spirit's influen- \nces. I believed, and according to my faith so it was. \n\n\" 9th. — Sabbath evening. — The last Lord's day in \ncollege this session, and to be remembered as amon \nthe most precious. Reviewing this session, I hav \nmuch to remember, and more than I can record of the \ngoodness of God to me. Scientific pursuits have led \nme into an acquaintance with subjects before unknown \nto me. Lord, sanctify this knowledge. \n\n\" The study of the New Testament in the Greek \nhas opened to my mind many things before hid from \nme. Yetj deeper would I dig into this rich, exhaust- \nless mine ; for the deeper, the more lucid and brilliant \nthe precious gem of truth appears. Lord, sanctify me \nthrough thy truth : thy word is truth. My weekly ex- \nercises with the people among whom I have gone la- \nboring, with the view of stirring up any gift I may pos- \nsess, and of edifying my little congregation, has been \nof service to me. Lord, all that was amiss forgive ; \nown what was thine, and may fruit appear at the last \nday. To my brethren in college, too, in our weekly \nassembly, I have not failed to be plain, pointed, and I \nhope affectionate. \n\n'^ To the institution as a body, I have done but little. \nIf it was my duty, I have not done it. I have not gone \nfrom room to room and ' warned every man night and \nday with tears.' Only to a few have I been personal \nin my interviews. Shall these dear souls be lost \nthrough my miscarriage towards them ? In view of \nthis subject, an4 some others, this day \n\n\"Besoived, rhat I will, the Liord Wvu^ \\&?) V^ \n\n\n\nJ40 MEMOIR OP \n\nthinkj speak, and act as an individual : for as sneb \nI must live — as such I must die, stand before Giod, be \njudged, be damned or saved for ever and ever. I have \nbeen waiting for others to go forward. I must act as it \nI were the only one to act, and wait no longer. \n\n\" The days of darkness have been few, and only \nwhen I slipped back from God. He has not withdrawn \nfrom me; but I have most ungratefully and basely \nwithdrawn from him. As the earth rolls and involves \nitself in darkness, so by my turning from the Sun of \nrighteousness have I been involved in darkness ; nor \ntill turned back again, did I walk in the light, as he is \nm the light ; yet, though, like Peter, I fell, the Lord \nturned and looked on me again, and, like Peter, O how \nbitterly I wept. I do not remember that I once came \nback but with tears and groans which could not be ut- \ntered. When away, as a father pitieth his children, \nso the Lord pitied me. A father's pity to his wayward \nchild is often manifested by the lifted rod ; so my hea- \nvenly Father hath ever used the discipline of the co- \nvenant, and followed me till I again felt the Spirit of \nhis Son uttering in my inmost soul, ^ Abba, Father.' \n\n\" The days of peace have been multiplied, seasons \nof holy unction have been vouchsafed, powerfully con- \nstraining cords of love have bound me closer to the \nbosom of my Lord. Clearer, more elevating, and at \nthe same time soul-humbling manifestations of Jesus \nhave been enjoyed. In a word, my heavenly Father has \nsmiled most graciously ; Jesus has showed to me liis \nlife, his labors, his sutfeiings and death, his exaltation \nand intercession, and his love and care for me. The \nComforter has dwelt in me as his temple, and I have \nctly contemplated sauws \"olti^ ^xv%,^\"i ^\"i xk^ Cviiure \n\n\n\n«.JAHE8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 341 \n\ncompanions, and heaven as my home. With increat- \ning desire I long to enter the field, to lay out my \nstrength for God. \n\n*' Not knowing what the Lord has for me to do, I \nam kept from what, perhaps, would be as pleasant to \nme as to another, and at which some have been led \nto wonder. Some may think me stoically indifferent \nto the connubial state — but I fear to act prematurely. \nIt is this which restrains me from taking any steps in \nthat matter. When it is clearly one's duty to seek \nsuch a connection, will not a prudent wife come from \nthe Lord ? Sometimes I think of this, and wish that \nministers would see well to it, that they obtain in their \ncompanions an increase of power to help on their work. \n\n\" The blessings attending our happy household in- \ncrease. May we ever stand fast, and always abound \nin the work of the Lord. I hope to see them soon. \nMay I go in the fullness of the blessing of the Gospel \nof peace, be blessed and made a great blessing to them, \nand to all with whom I may associate. \n\n''This has been a day of the renewal of my cove- \nDant. Once more I have had the most honorable seat \non earth, a place at the Lord's table. It was a precious \nwaiting upon Qod. I again took the oath of allegiance, \nshowed forth the Lord's death, remembered him, and \ngave thanks. \n\n\"May 18, 1826.— Since writing the above, have \nvisited my father's house. Returning, I have now en- \ntered upon my last session in college. Already hath \nit been signalized with a most gracious visitation ; the \ncollege opened this day at noon — at evening devotion \nthe Holy Spirit was vouchsafed. M.^ Vi««x>?% ^« \nWMM, that thiB session might be mote |syonQiviA^>M> \n\n29* . \n\n\n\n342 MEMOIR OP \n\nbefore ^ my prayer, that no blot might attach to me ; I \ngave my interests op to my faithful Keeper. \n\n^* 27th. Sabbath. — The past week has been a glori- \nous one to me, with the exception of nearly a day, \nwhen I wandered from God in doing what I ought not \nto have done. The fruits of the Spirit, so far as they \nhave been produced in my soul, have been love, joy, \npeace, faith, and gentleness.\" \n\n\" This last trait in James Taylor's character,'' says \na friend, \" was particularly observable. He did every \nthing with gentleness. It was this which rendered his \nreproofs so inoffensive and effectual in his intercoune \nwitli his friends and with strangers. This character- \nistic, added to a familiarity and playfulness peculiar- \nly his own, rendered him the favorite of the children \nof the families in which he visited, for whom he al' \nways manifested an affectionate regard, and whom he \nwould attempt to interest and benefit by relating some \nstory from the Bible, or some striking incident in the \nhistory of some child he had read of, or had known. \nHis gentleness appeared in all his movements; he \nwould even raise the latch of the door noiselessly. \nAnd on entering a house of prayer, or any place of re- \nligious worship, he walked as lightly as on tiptoe. He \nmade this a principle of action, and rendered it, as he \ndesired, a habit; and would remark, when speaking \nof conducting religious worship, that this habit was \nmost desirable in the minister, as rendering the place \nof meeting more impressive and solemn.\" \n\n\"My seasons of prayer in the evening,\" continues \niUf journal, \"have been um«« ol vpec\\Q\\W^<«>%v&V>^'' \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 349 \n\ndescribable, sometimes /m/^ of glory. My heart broke \nwith the longings it bad to live to and for God — re- \njoiced that Christ was in me the hope of glory. \n\n\"Before retirinii; to rest last night, as usual knelt be- \nfiide my bed. My renewed petition was that I might \npossess, in as high a degree as possible in this world, \nthe life of God in my soul. In the night, while asleep, \nI thought myself in company with S and an- \nother person. I arose and spoke. The Spirit of God \nseemed to come upon me in an unusual manner, and \npowerfully attended my words. The whole house \nseemed to be filled with the Holy Ghost. I was over- \npowered, and sweetly swooned away. I put no inter- \npretation upon this dream. My prayer has been, my pe- \ntition now is, Lord, go with me to my meeting ; clothe \nme with power ; give efficacy to ihy word, and let sin- \nners be awakened and converted unto thee, while I ad- \ndress them from — ' Sirs, what shall I do to be saved V \n\n4 \n\nWhen I awoke from the forementioned dream, I trem- \nbled ; I felt as if God had been near, and so near that \nI feared. I endeavored to throw myself on his kind \narms, and to wait his coming, when and how he should \nplease. Even if I should lose my life under his mani- \nfestations, I would trust him. \n\n\" I have been much blessed in reading Bellamy's \ncharacteristics of love to God. Was greatly refreshed \nbefore I went to the people this afternoon. Now I re- \nture to rest af\\er a Sabbath day richly fraught with di- \nvine blessings. O to hold fast whereunto I have at- \ntained. I renew my petition. Lord, accomplish thy \nwill in me, and make me all that thou wouldst have \nme to be in this world. I desired lo-d«^ \\o\\^ ^^ \nderoted to the Lord, \n\n\n\n344 UEMcw or \n\n^ May 3l8t. — Heard from, and wrote to brother P \nat Yale college.\" \n\nThe letter written to that brother, himself also pre- \nparing for the ministry, is as follows : \n\n''Na8sau-HaU, May 31, 1888. \n•*D««rF. \n\n''Ere this you are in New-Haven. To-day yoe \ncommence your session. Begin it with GUid. Coin \ntinue it walking with God. Then, whether you end \nit or not, you will be found with him. Thus I com- \nmenced the session upon which I have entered. And if \nI had time, I might testify to the loving-kiodness of \nthe Lord. Suffice it to say, his manifestations hare \nbeen overwhelming. Praise him on my behalf. \n\n'^ I think the world recedes yet more and more, u \nGod comes in and abides. One thing with me is par- \namount, and to this one thing I would endeavor to \nbend all my powers, that is, to preach Christ, to learn \nof him, and teach others, so as to arrive safe at heaven \nmyself, and be the means of guiding others there. \n\n'^ Brother, let us feel, let us ask God to impress tii- \ndtlibly on our hearts the solemn truth that we are \nidentified with this generation, and bound to serve it \nSoon, say in thirty years, where will these millions of \nsouls be ? We are a part of them. What power, un- \nder God, have we over them? Whatever it is, let at \nput it all in requisition on the side approved of God. \n\n\"Try to enjoy more of God in your own sooL \nThink not that you can do this and cling to the world \nat all. Superfluities must be abandoned ; and when \nQoik pouri talvaliou mxo v\\i« %q^^ «h«x^ vk^i^^:^^^ \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 345 \n\nwill appear to be of no worth. Let us give up all for \na whole Christ in us, living and reigning there — living \nand reigning, O my brother, I heard a godly man \nsay last evening in an address, ^1 believe that not one \nhalf of the professors of religion will ever cross the \nthreshold of heaven.' Let us also beware lest a \npromise being left us of entering in, we should come \nshort of it. The blessing of the Eternal rest on you \nand me. James.\" \n\nDiary. \"June 4. — Sabbath. — The past week has \nnot been so signalized as the preceding by successive \nvisitations. Last evening had a peculiar season be- \nfore the Lord. I had desired of God to give me a deep \nsense of the turpitude of sin. The process through \nwhich I received it was more varied and better felt \nthan can be described — but it came ; and never did I \nliave so clear and pungent, yet not distressing but \nloathing view of sin. It was proportioned to the dis- \ncoveries I had of the infinite holiness of God. \n\n\" Such a season of sweet submission of my will to \nthe will of God was given, that I wept, and cried, \nglory — glory — glory. This was as spontaneous as my \nbreath. I was brought to see and feel my utter help- \nlessness as never before, and throw myself on God, \nwho graciously received me and afforded me the com- \nmunications of his love. But my nothingness ! Inji- \nnile is stamped upon the amazing contrarieties. God \nis infinitely holy. One sin of mine is deserving in- \nfinite damnation ; and I should have it, were it not \nfor an infinite merit in Jesus Christ, for whose sake \nthe infinite God stoops infinitely, and takes u\\) an in- \niiDitely unworthy, seif-condemTiVii^ Nvt^VoXv— ^ \n\n\n\n346 MBMoiB or \n\nshall I find an epithet? — dreg, from a loathaome, horii \nble pit, to an infinitely exalted station. * If sons, then \nheirs — heirs of Grod and joint heirs with Christ.' \nglory infinite be unto the infinite God. And what dd I \nprofit him ? O wonder of wonders ! ^ Where can a \ncreature hide V \n\n\"June 11 — Sabbath. — During the past week a unioa \nhas been formed among the brethren to pray for the \noutpouring of the Holy Spirit upon us and the college. \n\n\" On the 7ih, in the evening, had such a view of sin \nas to make me look at the least aberration as enough \nto induce me to cry, Lord, come over the mountains \nof my iniquities ! I had an application of Paul's words, \nwith a consciousness that I had nought — no not apor- \nticlef whereof to glory ; so that I was enabled, with \nan uncommon sinking and emptying of self, to put the \ncrown on the head of Christ. These were the words: \n' God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of \nChrist,' &c. \n\n\" Warm to-day, and I have felt much lassitude. \nMay duties be omitted because the weather is hot? Is \nthis an excuse ? \n\n\" 18th — Sabbath. — Brother came in the even- \ning to tell me of an experience he had this forenoon. \nHe remarked that the enjoyment of the one hour he \nwould not give for all he had ever known. From what \nI have heard him express in former conversations, and \nliis narrative now, perhaps he never experienced reli- \ngion till to-day. He seems happy in God. 1 advised \nhim to say nothing of it to any other till he had fuller \nproof that it was a work of God. O that such in- \nstances might occur daily. Better away with rotten \nhopes here, than wail xiW v\\i^ yx^^uieMV^^^^^^'BwVaM^ \n■'em. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINGRD TAYLOR. 347 \n\n\" Lord, establish thou me in holiness and righteous- \nness all the days of my life. My enjoyment during \nthe last week has been peace flowing as a river. I \nhope I am growing in knowledge for personal edifica- \ntion and future usefulness. My present plan* multi- \nplies subjects to preach upon, and may prove an armo- \nry whence to draw weapons for my warfare, which is \nnot carnal, but to be carried on with the sword of the \nSpirit. \n\n*^ The Bible — in contemplating its truth, I was ex- \ncited to cry out, ^ Blessed Bible ! blessed Bible ! \nblessed Bible !' It so much engrosses my leisure time \nthat other books are neglected. O to be mighty in the \nScriptures I Here I compare 'spiritual things with \nspiritual.' \n\n\" Had a right feeling for one who has manifested a \nbad spirit towards me. My soul yearned for his con- \nversion. O for the coming down of the Holy Ghost I \nSoon I shall be gone from this institution. As I lay \ndown the other niglit, had solemn thoughts of dying, \nand sweet prospects of going from this to a higher \nsphere. The thought of dying to know more of God \nand of his works — perhaps in other systems — has oc- \ncupied my mind much lately. Surely I would not live \nhere always — to die, / believe^ is gain^Xo be with \nChrist is best. \n\n\" June 21. — The consideration that I had been three \nyears almost in college, without conversing with my \nfellow-students, was heart-breaking. To go for^vard \nseemed to be too heavy a cross. What ! be pointed \n\n* MaUng notes on the Scriptaref, in his daily reading. Of \nthese skeletons he has left hundreds, frooi i^^VeVi Yl« ^^^smi^ * \nspeslk numporaneoutlj. \n\n\n\n348 MEMOIR or \n\nat ! Be subject to their ridicule and reproacb ! Do thii \nall alone ! The struggle was great, but it came to thisi \nliesolved, in the presence of God and by his help, to \nbegin and do my duty in college, in conversing with \nmy companions in study. I repeated the resolution, \nand afterwards felt much relief. O that some would \ncome over and help. But if not a soul comes to my \nhelp, I am to see and converse with the students of \nthis college, if they will allow it, cost what it will. \nMy character is not worth a cent, nor my influence ; \nnor my acquirements, aside from the service of God— \nO for help. While at prayers, my burden left me iu \nconsideration of this truth : ' If any man will be my \ndisciple, let him deny himself and take vp his crost \nand follow me.' The thought of having my name cast \nout as evil for ChrisVs sake, sent sweet exultation \ninto my soul. While there, I determined to invite a \nclass-mate into my room and talk with him. It came \nin the way, but my heart well nigh failed me. But I \naddressed him — he followed me, and I pray God, who \nwitnessed the interview, to raise in power to his own \nglory what was sown in weakness. \n\n\"July 2.— Sabbath. — The past week has been one of \ncrosses. The cross which I have laid hold on with so \nmuch difficulty, I have only dragged since. AVith twen- \nty impenitent companions, I have attempted to speak \nin reference to eternal things. The mouths of most \nwere stopped. They listened and assented to the truth. \n\n\" I never had such views of some passages of Scrip- \nture : ^ Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and \npersecute you, and say all manner of evil against you \nfalsely for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad ; \nfor great is yout tewwA Vn \\ieviwk\\ ^«t %» \\ft\\^ft»Qta»l \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAinfiRD TAYLOR. 349 \n\nthey the prophets which were before you.* ' Who shall \nharm you, if ye be followers of that which is good.' * It \nis sufficient that the servant be as his Master, and the \ndisciple as his Lord.' ' If they have persecuted »ic, they \nwill also persecute you.' ' Consider him that endured \nsuch contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be \nweary and faint in your minds.' * Ye have not yet re- \nsisted unto blood? ' No weapon formed against thee \nshall prosper.' \n\n\"The long-suffering patience of God towards sin- \nners, daring, Qod-hating sinners, such as I once was, \nwears a new aspect. If I hate their ways — if I am \npained at their wickedness, how must infinite purity \nlook upon them ! Surely it can make no compromise \nwith sin. The least sin is infinitely hateful in God's \nsight ; and the day is coming when his enemies must \nfeel it so in their dreadful punishment. \n\n\" The honor and cause of God were never more dear \nto me. Last evening's devotions were peculiarly melt- \ning. I never had such a burning desire and such ear- \nnest wrestlings for sinners in this college. I wept sore, \nand left the cause of God and the honor of his great \nname suspended upon his rigtiteous sovereignty, \nwhere I also wish to hang. It was a time of sweet \nrelief. I gained the liberty which I needed. \n\n\" In view of my late attempts here, I find much to \nhumble me. I asked the Lord to cast a veil of pardon \nover my best deeds — hesi I indeed, I could see no good- \nness in them ; but I saw that he can reach down his \nsovereign arm and pluck these sinners as brands from \nthe burning. Had a refreshing season in the meeting \nwith the brethren, as usual, on Saturday night. In \npn/er/or ihe Holy Ghost to be \"^ow*^ ovjx^a %.« \n\n30 *•*■*'*• \n\n\n\n850 MEMOIR OP \n\nreign gift, I was melled and stopped, and repeated the \ncry, Lord Jesus, come quickly. \n\n\"• Nine o'clock, evening. — I have felt, and to this hoar \nfeel, that the glory is eclipsed. During sermon this A. \nM., I listened with interest. In one part of the apph- \ncation, power seemed to attend the word ; and I earn- \nestly prayed that it might go to the hearts of sinnen \npresent. The desire was so intense, that it seemed to \npartake of the spirit of Moses at the rock. I felt that \nit did not lie with meekness on the sovereignty of \nGod. A hardness came into my soul — I lamented, 1 \nbewailed it. It is now there. O ! sin, what hast thou \ndone ? enough to sink my soul to hell. Sin, the least \nsin presses heavily on me. I see that it is an infinite \nevil ; and that those who enter heaven sin no more. \nThis makes heaven in my view chiefly desirable. ' The \nheaven that I desire, is a heaven of holiness.' But \nwhat of this ? What if I had been as holy as an angel ? \nOne sin resting on me is a load too heavy to be borne ; \nand here it becloudd every object, and cools every ser- \nvice. Lo, I feel it — and will God forgive me ? Will \nhe take away my stony heart ? Will he give me a heart \nof flesh ? O ! how it dries up my spirits ! I oflfer no ex- \ncuse; for there is none for sin. But I did not intend \nto interfere with the sovereignty of God. If in any \ntiling, I think in this my soul has rejoiced. And if I \nperish, let God reign. If I be dashed like a potter's \nvessel, let God reign, and reign for ever. I will bear \nthe indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned \nagainst him ; until he plead my cause, and ezecate \njudgment for me : he will bring me forth to light, and \nI shall behold his righteousness. For if we sin, we \nhave an advocate wiiYi vV^ Y^\\^«^^ ^^\"a^a CVxUi the \n\n\n\nJjUlC£8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 351 \n\nrighteous, who is the propitiation for our sins, and his \nblood cleanseth from all sin. This one thing I desire, \nand will still seek after, to be holy and wise.\" \n\nWe regret to say that the foregoing extracts termi- \nnate Mr. Taylor's diary, with the exception of a small \nfragment in the year 1828, which shall be noticed in \nits place. It is plain, indeed, that this valuable exercise \nhad been followed through the intervening time, but \nthe record was probably destroyed by himself, as. it \nwas not found among his papers. We regret this the \nmore, because, as he advanced in his course, he be- \ncame more and more occupied, so that his letters, as \nfar as they have been recovered, are not so numerous, \nand for the most part written in haste. Still, however, \nmaterials sufficient are in hand to enable us to form a \ncomplete estimate of Mr. Taylor's character, and to \nhold him up as affording a most instructive example \nto Christians, students, candidates for the ministry, \nand ministers of the Gospel. \n\nTo his brother F., Mr. Taylor wrote on the 8th of \nAugust, and referring to the misconduct of some mem- \nbers of college, says, \n\n^'How happy, my dear brother, that heaven has \nplaced a barrier between us and such excesses. Let \nus be humble and thankful. Let us consecrate those \npowers to God which others prostitute in the service \nof sin and Satan.\" \n\nTo another of his brothers, an elder in one of the \nchurches in New York, he wrote about the same time^ \nas follows : \n\n\n\nle ^Um/KBt^A^W ■ v . V \n\n\n\n\" Th«t HhA liitki Zm,- •n>«wk9M wails. fM Jhw \nyour pkec,\" gatli«r-'t(i«;^ptl^ is good n^ws. May tlkfl \ntree plai^ltd in flamli ft toil, strike d$ep Um roots asd \nshoot wide its branches* Blossoms, it seems, 'faavo al- \nready ripened into frnii: Blsy soeeessit^ spring* set- \nsons come Tonnd, snd.no blight sppeac; Msj' the hesit \nof yoor beloTed pastor^- sad ihe besrts^ of the afliee* \nbesfsrs, and of the little Aoek, -all rejoics tngether ia \nthe ingathering of not a little fruit. > In the wv*^?ng \nsow thy s€^, and in the -evening withhold not thy \nhand/ And msy yonrinqdiry, both eai ly and lala^ at \nhis fenlple, meet with responses to eneoorsga and sai* \nmate yotf all to do ma^ for Zioa. ^O'Zioo, Ika \nhringesc good tidings !' Whal^ eke is worth living fori \nDear brother, may oar sensibilities be most lander ibr \nZion— bleeding Zion — Zion, agsinst whioh the wkM \nare arrayed ; but whose cause God, angels, and samts \nhave espoused, and will never desert. How strong oor \nccnsolation ! for when we lend our aid to this caitt9$f \nwe are sure that it will prosper. Hath the Lord said \nit, and shall he not do it 9 Those whose hearts hare \nbeen enlarged fo embark ia this cause, but who now, \nfrom reverses in business, must curtail their contribo- \ntioDs, will not repine that so much has been safely \nlodged. Will not the Lord recompense them a hun- \ndred fold ? \n\n*' When any fail, it is an affliction ; but how moeh \ngreater the affliction when the benevolent fail ! Tme, \nGod can open new^untains and multiply streams, \nwhen some are dried up: and, before Z ion's csnse \nshall fail for want of fhnds, will he not pnloA the \nesrtVt coffejj^iad bring forth million^ iNs^atd? \nWe need not fesx*, tYiowi^kii ^^ iMtidsl^'CMLssem \n\n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIN ER9 TAYLOR. 353 \n\nfewer at present than his enemies, yet his resources \nure infinite. \n\n^^ Brother, do you not think it more noble to act and \nlabor against opposing influences^ than it would be if \nthe multitude fell in with the benevolence of the day ? \nI think a brighter crown awaits such noble daring ef- \nforts as the apostles, and martyrs, and reformers, and \nsome since their day, have made, than even the efforts \nof those who may live in the millennium : and simply \nfor this reason ; because the cross will be less heavy \nto bear when all take part with heaven. May our ef- \nforts be made with a single eye. The less conspicuous \nhere, the more renowned hereafter. Christ was little \nknown, and less honored, ' His name, however, shall \nbe great among the heathen,' and his right to reign \nshall be duly acknowledged : for to him ' every knee \nshall bow, and every tongue confess.' \n\n\" Could I gain access to the benevolent ones around \nyou, who already do so much, I would lament with \nthem that so much wealth lies dormant in their city, \nwhen it might be employed for the eternal interests \nof men. I could tell some who hold their pennies so \nclose, what I overheard the other day : — ^ I wish I had \ntwenty dollars to help my brother through the next \nterm in college.' This was said by one who had strug- \ngled long and hard for his own education. This man, \ntoo, bids fair to bless mankind \\ and his brother has \nlately professed conversion, and has the ministry in \nTiew.\" \n\nAt the commencement, in September of this year, \nhe took hit degree of A. B. in NasMQ-Hall, and left \n\n30^ \n\n\n\n354 Kfitfoifi OP \n\nthe place with the view of connecting himself with \nthe Theological Seminary at New-Haven. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. \n\nIn the Theological Seminary, \n\nOn Mr. Taylor's arrival at New-York from Prince- \nton, he was attacked severely with pain, whi6h pro- \nbably laid the foundation of that disease which car- \nried him to an early grave ; or rather was the com- \nmencement of the disease itself, from which he seems \nnever to have perfectly recovered. To a friend in \nPiinceton, and to his parents, he wrote about the mid \ndie of October, giving some account of his illness. \n\n\" Since I left Princeton, with short intervals, I have \nhad pain upon pain ; have been bled and blistered on \neach side ; relief, however, has been only temporary. \nAt times the anguish has been almost overpowering. \nIndeed it has been a sore trial ; yet many a time in my \ndistress I have exclaimed. This is not Gethsemane— \nthis is not the cross — this is not Iiell. Grace, I think, \nlias triumphed in the midst of suiSering. And I doubt \nnot of the final good result of this affliction ; ^ light, \nand but for a moment ;' — light, and but for a moment, \nin comparison with what it might be, and with what \nI deserve. How long I may yet be confined I know \naot, I need not know, li u «Q!Qrai%lv that God knows \n\n\n\nJAMES E^AINEED TAYLOR. 366 \n\nwnat IS best, and that is best for me. My desire is to \nbe located at New-Haven, by a week from next Wed- \nnesday. Thither I expect to go and remain for the \npresent. There is no fever attending my complaint ; \nit appears to be a rheumatic affection.\" \n\nTo his Parents. \n\n\" The Lord knoweth the rod that he hath laid upon \nme. His grace hath borne me up under its weight, so \nthat I have rejoiced in tribulation. In the midst of \njudgment great have been the mercies I have received. \nI have not words to express my obligations to God for \nthe rich manifestations of his love — when writhing in \nanguish of body I have thrown myself on his kind arm, \nand he hath sustained me. I think in the midst of it \nall he has kept me, measurably, in a childlike spirit, \nfor my greatest concern has been to acquiesce perfect- \nly in the will of God. \n\n'^ This too has solaced me. The suffering time of \nthe Christian will be over — it will come to an end ; \nand this too — the pain of this day, this hour, this mo- \nment is never to be felt a second time. So much of \nthe cup has been drunk, and the cup that my Father \nhath given me shall I not drink it ? \n\n\" The views vouchsafed, both of the past and future, \nhave been enlarged. I never saw myself to have been \nso unprofitable a servant. By grace, through faith, the \nprospect of laboring, suffering, or dying, seemed aU \none; only let God's will be done.\" \n\nThe only remaining memorial of this year is a let- \nter written late in the month of Deccmb«i^ ^vvvDk%%x^ \n\n\n\n356 HLMOIB OP \n\naccount of his uriTal at New-Haven — hia leceptioa \nibto the theological seminaiy, and of the goodness of \nGod manifested in his proTidence and in his gracious \ncommiinieations. Of his health he says, though ex- \nposed to cold and the effects of fatigue, \" My eongk \nand cold hare well nigh disappeared — I think I am \nevery way better.'* \n\nDuring the remainder of his life, Mr. Taylor devoted \nhimself less than hitherto to correspondence with his \nfriends, a change which he attributes to a loss of re- \nlish for this sort of exercise, and the fact that more of \nhis time was oceopied m writing, as he pursued his \npreparatory course. Another reason may be found— \nwhich perhaps did not attract his attention — in the iik- \nsomeness of a writing posture to one whose chest had \nbegun to be affected by an incurable disease. \n\nFrom the letters which hare come into our hands \nwe shall present the reader with such extracts as maf \nthrow light on his character, or, in our judgment af- \nford matter of instruction and of religious excitement \nto Christians, and to candidates for the ministry— or \nmay serve to illustrate the power of grace in bringing \nthe whole being into conformity to God. \n\nThe first is addressed to a pious family, near Prince- \nton, with which Mr. Taylor had much Christian in- \ntercourse during his college life, and at whose house \nhe frequently held meetings for religious exercises. \n\n\" NeW'Baven, Pdtmary 11, 1837. \n•• 1V> tiM 4Mr FamOj tkat dwaO la tlM Valte]r : \n\n^^ Of my location in this place you may not have \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOR. 357 \n\nbeen informed. I address you with the testimony that \ntiie good hand of God has been upon me for good. \n\n\" Of my illness in New-York you were probably ap- \nprised. Detained as I was, I doubt not but the Lord \nsaw in that sickness a link in the chain of my prepa- \nration for the holy ministry not unimportant. The re- \nmains of the attack I feel about me almost daily. So, \nyou sec, I have a daily memento of my mortality as I \nam traveling to the grave. At this recital I conjec- \nture th&t your sympathies are all awake ; and I be- \nlieve your overflowing kind feelings would not be slow \nin devising something for my relief— give me yo'' . \nprayers, — I trust you do. Your fireside I How gXdiiiiy \nwould I spend a season in that family circle. Thi- \nther my willing feet have tended ; but not so often as \nI desired. That you welcomed me ever, I owe you \nmy kindest regards. The interviews enjoyed, if not \non earth, I trust will be renewed in heaven. You too \nhave been visited with sickness. You doubtless will \nreply, \n\n* What charming words are these ? \n\n* Their sweetness who can tell 1 \n\n* [n time, and to eternity, \n\n' ' TU with ifie HgkieoM well: \n\nLooking upon our cup as from a father's hand, takes \naway its bitterness, and the cup of consolation over- \nflows. \n\n\"When ill, dear L came in and knelt beside \n\nmy bed. I could not but mark one of his expressions. \nHe thanked God that I had had a trial of my graces. \nTruly it is a matter of thankfulness that our faith, and \n|>atience, and resignation are tried. Otherwise, how \nshould we know that we possessed vVicm. \\l •&. ^xva.^ \n\n\n\n356 MEMOIR OF \n\npossess a coin, the genuineness of which he doubts, a \ntest applied will satisfy him. So when one passes \nthrough the furnace which our heavenly Father pre- \npares for the trial of his children, though it be heated \nseven fold,* if he be a true Christian he endures the \ntrial. When one is so tried, he finds that it is one \nthing to talk of patience and resignation, and quite \nanother to exercise them. If we consider a moment, \nAve may see how important it is that the way to hea- \nven lies through much tribulation. When the termi- \nnating hour of the Christian arrives, his trials temii- \nnate. If he exercise no patience in this world, he coa*d \nnever exercise it at all ; for what is there in heaven to \ncall this grace into exercise ? But the Lord knows \nwhat ia best, and that is best for me. This was my \nsong day and night when racked with pain. \n\n^' I hope you are all abiding under the shadow of the \nAlmighty — rejoicing in the light of God's countenance \n— sweetly visited with the presence of Jesus — and \nfiled with the Holy Ghost. \n\n' Children of the heavenly King, \nAs ye joumeyt sweetly slug; \nSing your Savior^s worthy praise. \nGlorious in his works and ways. \nYe are travelling home to God, \nIn the way the fathers trod ; \nThey are happy now — and ye \nSoon their happiness shall see.' \n\n*' May you fellow on to know the Lord — follow nard \nafter him — have the intercourse between heaven and \nyour souls open and free — hold fellowship with tht» \nFather, and with his Son Jesus Christ. Thus you \nwJlJ aJvaoce io an ouwaxd aiw^i upuard ^lONwst. ^-sjj^ \n\n\n\nJAMES tRAt?SCRD TAYLOR 359 \n\nthe blessing of Qod rest upon you all, through life — \nat death, may an entrance be administered unto you \nabundantly into the ereriasting kingdom of our Lord \nand Savior Jesus Christ. In the best of bonds, \n\n\"James B. Taylor.\" \n\nTo the Rev. Mr. L. Mr. Taylor wrote, on hearing \nthat he had been bleeding at the lungs. \n\n** New Haven, March 17, 1827. \n*• My dear, very dear Ij. \n\n^' I will not, for I cannot tell you bow often the ex- \npression, ' dear L,' has escaped my lips to-day. In- \ndeed since last evening, when I heard that you were \nill and had bled at the lungs, I have been cast down \non your account, on ray own, and on account of the \ncburch. And now, in part to roll off the burden that \nrests on my heart, 1 address you. It is a burden that \nwould gladly find its way through my eyes ; but my \neyes refuse to weep. \n\n\" When I had written the above, I said I will go and \npray. I did : and now resume my pen. O my brother, \nwhat a resort is the throne of grace ! It is there we \nHnd broken hearts. There we obtain a right spirit. \nThence we come refreshed, having cast our burdens \non the Lord. \n\n* Long as they live should Christians pray, \nFor ouly while they pray, they live.* \n\n\" I told the Lord that I was afflicted on your ac- \ncount, on my own, and on account of the church. 1 \nasked him, if it were possible, to bring you out oC l^% \nfjrnace as goldj and in full healtVi*, \\o\\vs^ Xo^^^ ^^^ \n\n\n\n360 MEMOIR OF \n\nunder bim, to be tbe means of peopling hearen. Bot \nabove all, I pleaded for yonr soul's best interests, and \nasked for tbe best blessings to rest upon you* I thanked \nthe Lord for one I lored so dearly, for Christ's sake— \nI thanked him for our acquaintance and fellowship. \nThink of the assemblage of associations rising in mj \nmind — seasons together at Princeton — seasons in New- \nYork — Heaven bless you — I am affected at their re- \nmembrance. They are green spots in this wilderness. \nI thanked God for the prospect of meeting you in hea- \nven. Meeting you in heaven ! Here my heart broke* \nWhat, /meet you in heaven ! 1 be admitted to so ho- \nly a place ! Is it possible ! I eiclaimed, with melt- \ning heart and streaming eyes, can it be that I, who am \nso unfit, shall ever enter a holy heaven ! Thank the \nLord for the sinking I felt — yet bow far short were \nmy views of that depth which I deserve. It seemed \nthat if an anchor were fastened to my neck, and I \nwere sunk into the deepest hell, I should not have half \nmy desert; for how often, how aggravatedly, how \nlong have I sinned ! Heaven may forgive rae ; but I \ncan never, no never, forgive myself. \n\n\"Brother L., in view of the prospect, I cry out, \nWhat shall I do ? I do truly feel that I am undone as \nto preaching the Gospel, unless God do great things \nfor me. To-day I have desired to lay me down and \ndie, rather than live to dishonor God and his cause: \nand unless he keep me I shall. My experience tella \nme I shall: for alas! how often have I dishonored \nhim already, and have thus lost his smiles ! How of- \nten wounded my Savior, and thereby felt the absence \nof the Beloved— grieved the Spirit, and thus lost my \nComforter \\ \\ is tVieie \\ti\\v^;sc^«vv w ^•wSJ^'^ ^sxjassei \n\n\n\nJAM£3 BRMMERO \"TAYLOR. 361 \n\nmonument of grace ? or one that is more a sinner 7 \nNo words can express the sin, for which I deserve an \nexceeding and eternal weight of damnation. Well, \nbrother, however ill-deserving, I hope I have a gar- \nment in which I shall be accepted at the marriage \nsupper. For this you have prayed'^still pray, and \npray till your voice falters in death, that I may wear \nthe garment, and keep it unspotted. Then, whether \nyou precede me or not, we shall both hope to enter and \nsit down at a table spread with heavenly food. O ! \nhow rich the feast prepared for the followers of the \nLamb I I would not keep back one saint from glory — \nnot even my mother — nor thee, my brother L. No : \nif the good and great Shepherd will take one of his un- \nder-shepherds from an imperfect to a perfect service, \nI will say, amen, and hope to follow in due time. \nBrother, do you think that you are soon to exchange \nworlds? Think you that you have turned aside to \ndie ? If so, may you be gathered as a shock of corn \nin its season, fully ripe.\" \n\n\" NeW'Haven, March, 1837. \n\n'*Ny crer dear Mother, \n\n'* I hoped before this to receive intelligence from \nhome respecting your illness ; but not a word ; I there- \nfore presume you are no worse. \n\n* 1 am glad that I went home ; for I trust I was permit- \nted to add a little to your comfort in kneeling beside \nyou and supplicating for mercy and grace in your behalf. \nHad I not believed that you consulted my progress in \nstudy, I should have remained longer ; but you would \nrather that both be denied the pleasure of each others \n\nsociety, than that I should be lelaidedmitvs ^^wt^\"^^ \n\n3 1 i.^TvsXw \n\n\n\n<r^ \n\n\n\n•»■'. \n\n\n\n.^'' \n\n\n\n2t» wtaMT-iffik-tt^f\" \n\n\n\n^AboTe ally I rejoiced^ year- gamghtiiMi AH \n•bounded. Andmycom(bitiMuibeeii,'wlMaIliKveii^ \nmembered my dear mother, that the Lmrd lillad thi \nlight of his countenance upon yon, and euiaed y(Ni.to \nrejoice in that light. Had yoa not the hope of etenal \nlife, what gloom would spread aioond you I With \nthis hope, the pathway to the toinb is illuaunated, anl \neach snceessiye step is one more towarda a «oc|d of \nbrightness and blessed fruition. Yes, there is aome- \nthing beyond time worth dying to possess. Beaven— \nthe society of Gpd — angeb and saints — the eternitf of \never increasing joy^ . Sin will be no mora.^ Friend^ \nwho are the children of God, will not be aeparated^ \nthey will have one home, one serviee, ona inteiest, \nand they will surround the same throne. How happf \nour friends who have gone thither ! How.happy thef \nwho are on their journey, when they shall join those \nwho have gone before ! \n\n'' May my dear mother, in this time of trial, find her \nfaith increased — her hopes stronger — her prospects \nbrightened, and her pace quickened. \n\n^ We hope — for we pray — that our mother may yet \nbe spared to us. But were I to be called to die — to be \nwith Christ, let none keep me back. However trying \nit would be, I hope for sustaining grace, if called to \nbury my mother, and to live in the prospect of meeting \nher— my father — and some, if not all of the family, at \nthe right hand of the Judge. \n\n\" In this sickness still keep your mind stayed on \nGod ; lean on the arm of the Lord — commune with \nJ' i may you be filled with the Spirit. \n\n\"Your son, with increased affection. \n\n\n\nn \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAXNERD TAYLOR. 363 \n\nIn a letter bearing date April 2, 1827, Mr. Taylor \nwrote to his brother, informing hira of the commence- \nment of a revival of religion in Yale College ; in con- \nsequence of which, he says, \"as a class, we have \ngiven up our instructor for the present session.\" \n\nAt the same time Mr. Taylor was invited by the \npastor of the church in Bridgeport, and subsequently \nin Trumbull, where a work of grace was in progress, \nto go over and help them. From these places he \nwrote several letters to his friends, giving an account \nof the work, and of the success of his labors : from \nwhich it appears, though the truth is told with much \nmodesty, that the Lord honored his young servant \nwith a success which, together with his piety and the \nacceptance he met from the people, gave high promise \nof usefulness. To his mother he wrote : \" Tlie min- \nisters where I am laboring, license me verbally, so \nthat I preach as really as they do. They send me in- \nto the pulpit, &c. This is of their seeking, not mine.\" \n\nTo a brother whom he greatly loved, who, it would \nseem, had questioned the propriety of the course he was \npursuing, Mr. Taylor replied in the following letter: \n\n\" Trumlndl, May 3, 1827. \n* My ever dear Brother, \n\n\" Your fraternal epistle reached me last evening, af- \nter the fatiguing labors of another day. Did you know \nhow it refreshed me to hear from you, perhaps you \nwould write oftener. \n\n\" Of all people in the world, I have the least reason \nto doubt the tender regard and timely solicitude of my \nbrothers. Too much has been manifested on your \npart, to leave me in doubt as lo yoxn b^^x K^^Xxssk!??** \\. \n\n\n\nam fbllf ttfemuded tbst f^mott oordial 4miiM an \nenliited for my welfare; and often with weapiBg bate \nI tiiatiked onr common Fal]ier that. I hare relataoM \nand friends so valtiable as yon, and as yoa have both \nprored yennelTes to be to the. nn worthiest. Even \nnoW| spontaneous tesrs fill my eyeS|* and my aonl \nbreathee the peayer, May hearen bless yon bodi) and \nall ynurs, now and for erer. \n\n^'All the 'power' that belongs to me 'eeelesiasti- \ncally,' ia that pf aiay membec, for I am ranpl|r a mem- \nber of the Oedar-street efa|urch.. As soch, it becomes \nme, in common with my brethren, to ' do good to alL' \nWhat greater good than that of wmning^ their aonls.to \nChrist? To aUempt Udij it the duty of the weaketfl, \n08 well (u ^e numt giganiic servant of Je9U9, . \n\n\" That I haTe a call of God, besides, to fireacJt the \nGospel, I have no more doubt than of my existence. \nThis I count a blessing, one I did not enjoy when I \nbegan to prepare for this work. But since I received \nit, it has been peculiarly satisfactory ; and what all do \nnot have the happiness to possess. It did not become \nmine, but through strong cries, and many tears, and \nwrestlings, when I was in college. In grateful re- \nmembrance of that season, my pen has stopped, to \nweep-— and thank the Lord. It is a blessing of his im- \nparting. Not to me, but to Him be the praise. It is \na blessing of great worth to any one who attempts to \npreach the Gospel, to feel that he has a commission \nfrom God. I now feel as I have felt: < Wo is me, it \nI preach not the €k>spel.' \n\n*• The power that I now exercise, if I exercise any, \n\nis this, simply this, and no more than this^^ ^ Speaking \n\n\"vth to my neigUxx? Xae\\u ^ \\ \\^. \"IVVi \\ ^ \n\n\n\nJAMES fiRAINERD TAYLOR. 365 \n\n'publicly, and from house to house,' by night and by \nday, as I have opportunity. What I do, is done under \nthe sanction and wish of the regularly. ordained pastors \nof these churches ; and, if I mistake not, from the ex- \npressions of some, in accordance with the ardent \nwishes of the churches themselves. If this be wrong, \nlet a man prove it so, and I will cease to do wrong. \nWhat matters it whether I take my stand in a pulpit \nor on a stump in the fields ? If in the church, why \nunder the pulpit rather than in it ? If the question be \ndecided by convenience, both for the audience and the \nspeaker, the pulpit is the place. To me this seems to \nbe straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. Knock \ndown the pulpit and raise a platform ; to me it makes \nno difference where I stand ; but I like to see the peo- \nple, and the hearers generally like to see the speaker. \n\n'^ It is known that I am a student of theology. The \nminister, in the church, and when present at other \nmeetings, always pronounces the benediction. When \nabsent, I close the meeting with a short prayer. ' I am \nnot ashamed.' Why should I be ? God approves — \nsinners are awakened and converted — meetings are \ncrowded — houses are opened to receive me — the work \nof God is advancing — the harvest whitens. Says the \nminister, with affection and emphasis — * We love you, \nand wish you here ' — praying for me, and unwilling \nthat I should leave him. \n\n\" When the cry is all around, Help, help, help, shall \nI close my mouth because a man may make a distinc- \ntion between a pulpit and something else, when no \nsuch distinction is made by the Bible ? Never — were I \nto die to-day, I feel that I ought not to hold my peace ; \nand as I know of no statute that £ot\\>\\^^TD^ T^jKCMca.'^'^ \n\n31* \n\n\n\nI \n\n\n\nS66 UMOIR OP \n\ntext to speak from, and as I find this the most conre- \nnient for myself, and every way acceptable to those \nwho hear me I preswne I shall not be censored for \nthis. \n\n^* The question is, What u right 7 not what this or \nthat man says, withoat alledging his proof. Shall I \nhold my peace ? My labors have been so great for \nsome time past, yoa need not be surprised if I turn \naside and rest awhile. I shall be glad once more to \nfall into your embraces, and to be refreshed in your \nmansion. \n\n'' May you increase more and more in this world's \ngoods, but especially be rich towards God. Through \nyour munificence I abound, and am now, as I always \nhave been, your obliged and affectionate brother, \n\n« J. B. T.» \n\nTo the fame. \n\n\" Neto-Haven, June, 1827. \n^^ My dear Brother, \n\n\" After I left you m New-York, I returned to Trum- \nbull, and found the state of things increasingly inter- \nesting. I spent the last Sabbath there : between thirty \nand forty attended the inquiry meeting. A solemnity \nrests on the minds of many : indeed the whole parish \nseem awed. To what it will come I know not — as \nmany as twenty have expressed hope. The church \nare singularly alive, and seem much united. \n\n\" I am here ; and the principal work before me for \nthe summer is the study of the Scriptures, which I \nlove. \n\n\" I hope you enjoy nearness of access to God day \n\n\n\nlAMES B&AINSRD TAYLOR. 367 \n\nby day. This afternoon my soul was exceedingly re- \nfreshed. May yours be doubly so — nay, a hundred fold. \n\" Your affectionate James.\" \n\nThe reader will recollect with what agonizing earn- \nestness, and persevering importunity, Mr. Taylor pray- \ned for the conversion of his friend L. P. both while \nat Lawrenceville and at Princeton, as noted in our ex- \ntracts from his diary. That he did not pray in vain» \nwill be seen from the following letter, dated \n\n\" New-Haveny June 29, 1827. \n* My dear, detr BroCher, \n\n\" Is it — is it true ? The intelligence of this morn- \ning, let me assure you, gladdened my heart. The \nmingled emotions of my soul sent me weeping to my \nkneeling-place, with thanksgiving on your behalf, and \nto pray again for the friends I always loved, but who \nnow in our Lord Jesus Christ are dearly beloved. \n\n\" The language of my heart has been, since I saw \nMr. B., O that I could see you, were it but for half an \nhour ; for I would listen to you, and peradventure tell \nyou how, in days gone by, I have felt, and wept, and \n\nprayed for you : for none, as for my dear friend P , \n\nhave I ever and so often agonized in secret places. \nThe thought of spending a happy eternity at God's \nright hand with you, well nigh broke my heart thU \nmorning ; now my soul rejoices in the prospect. \n\n\" Having tasted that the Lord is gracious, and felt \nsolicitude for those whom you have left in their sins, \nyou will now interpret what perhaps you might, at one \ntime, have thought tntnmve in me, as flowing from \nbenevolence, overflowing benevolence^ i^x ^csvn \\)i«^ \n\n\n\n368 fiiEMOiR or \n\ninterests. Indeed it was so; and not unfrequcntly was \nmy soul sweetly yisited when in prayer to €rod for my \nfriend P . Thus you have my whole heart. \n\n^'By a note from Mr. B. I learn that at the last com- \nmunion thirty-eight were added to the church. Hap- \npy days for L. ! Did I know the names of the indi- \nviduals, I might recognize not a few old acquaintances. \n\n\"Comparing 'the fruits of the Spirit, love, joy, \npeace,' &c. with the joys of former days, do you not \nexclaim, in amazement, Where have I heen so long? \nAnd while you feast on the provisions of the Lord's \nliouse, does not your soul cry out, Evermore give me \nthis hread ? To them who grieve not the Holy Spirit, \nhe is rich and ever new in his manifestations. From \nthe height of one attainment we rise to another, till, \ninstead of * from grace to grace,' it shall be from glory \nto glory. \n\n\" Since I had the pleasure of seeing you, as you \nhave probably heard, I have, in the view of others, been \nover the grave's mouth. From my attack last fall I \nam well nigh recovered. To me the visitation was of \nno little importance. I thank our heavenly Father for \nIt. It was from a Father's hand. Though racked with \npain of body, my soul enjoyed the presence of God. \n\n\" Shall I tell you that more than ever I feel the im- \nportance of being wholly devoted to God ? Well may \nevery Christian, and especially every minister, lay \nhimself out for God, as a co-worker with him. Each \nin his own sphere may do something. Happy the man \nwho gathers but one sheaf! * They that turn many to \nrighteousness shall shine as the stars for ever and \never.' But I need not urge you to action. Doubtless \nyou have been up and CloVivw Vv\\\\v >5^i>3jt mx^v Y^^vihtf \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAINERD TAYLOR. 3G9 \n\nless you are daily walking with God, and find the \nblessedness of it in secret, in the family, in the social \ncircle, in the house and ordinances of God, in your \nwalks of usefulness and deeds of well-doing. I bid \nyou, with all my heart I bid you, Grod speed \n\n^^ Let me tell you that God puts honor upon my at- \ntempts in his service. Suffice it to say, he gives what \nI think I am most athirst for — souls. Lately I have \nbeen in two revivals. \n\n\" Often, when in L ^ my fellowship was with \n\nthe Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ — often \nwhen in Princeton. Associated with those places are \nnot a few of the greenest spots in my wilderness. \nHere, too, in New-Haven, Heaven deigns to refresh \nme with gracious rains. Pray that the fruit may be \nunto everlasting life. \n\n'* How often have I contemplated your fireside as \none of the happiest Has it, now, what shall be both \n^ grace and glory ' to it ? I doubt not your willing feet \nbring you to the domestic altar with your morning and \nevening sacrifice. On that altar may a prayer now \nand then be ofiered for one, even for me, who would \nbe holy and wise — holy, to please God, and wise, to \nwin souls. \n\n\" In the best of bonds, yours truly, \n\n\" James B. Taylor.\" \n\nAs evidence of Mr. Taylor's devotedness to the \ncause of his Master, his readiness to labor in that \ncause, the estimation in which his labors were held \nby the people, and of his own continued spirituality, \nwe give the following brief extracts from letters writ- \nten the last of July and 1st August) \\^^1. \n\n\n\n370 HMMcmow \n\n\" With pwity good bodily healUiL I am Uessed witb \nwhat aboTO all things we value, the lenewed Tiaitt ol \nour Father's lore, the |»cesenco o£ Jesus, and the in- \ncoming of the Holy Spirit. For a season past, my en- \njoyment }n, dirine things has been ttncfHEoinon. \n\n''Somehow I am drawn in to labor, besides my \nstudies. On Friday erenings I meet a company, lo \nwhom I try to speak the truth with all plauuiBSs. Thii \nmeeting is made up of the higher circle of young la- \ndies of New-Haven. This is not of my ow% but of \nthe seieking of others. On Saturday evenings I some- \ntimes address anaudienoe. On Sabbath, at two \no'clock, I meet a Bible class ; about one hundred and \nthirty present last Sabbath. By means of the latter, \nI feel that I am profiting ; for I devote some time to \npreparation. This is the little that I am doing. \n\n\" I may tell you with safety that God puts honor \nupon my endeavors to do good. Sinners are convert- \ned, and saints quickened, in some few instances. Thas \nliere, as in other places where I have been located in \nmy preparatory studies, I hope to have a band whom \nI love.\" \n\nIn most of Mr. Taylor's letters written after his at- \ntack in New-York, there is reference to a slight indis- \nposition — a rheumatic affection — the remains of his \ndisease, &c. We now present the reader with one \nwhich shows the progress of his malady, and which \ngave the painful presage that his career of light would \nbe short. \n\n** J^Tew-Haven, OcioUr 89, 1837. \n^BlydeorBroCber, \n\n^''By a letter to II— ^^wi ^VW ^ftft vViAi I was pros \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOR^ 371 \n\npered in my journey. Having arrived at New-Haven, \nand fitted my room for business, I was just ready to \nenter upon my work, when that happened whence I ap- \nprehended serious consequences. The result, however, \nis such, that, did I not fear an exaggerated report might \nreach you, I would not trouble you. Reaching my \nroom, after dinner, on Friday, I coughed a little, which \nwas succeeded by the discharge of some blood ; after- \nwards, a spontaneous flow of perhaps a table-spoonful. \n\n''Neither at the time, nor since, have I felt any ill \nconsequence ; so that, judging from my feelings and \n\nfrom the opinion of Dr. I , it is thought that the \n\nblood came from the throaty not from the lungs, as I \napprehended at first. \n\n\"These are the facts: and the occurrence demands \nimprovement, and calls for my grateful acknowledg- \nments. Its first efiect was to break my heart. This \nI needed. And as the purposes of God relate to all ac- \ntual events, so it was his purpose that this should oc- \ncur. And I have looked upon it as a blessing ; for it \nbrought in its train a course of things that has made \nmy soul happy It has effected a desirable change in \nmy feelings — 1 see that I may not be of so much im \nportance in God's system of means as I may have \nthought. \n\n''It has led me to conclude, that if Gk)d has laid, or \nintends to lay me aside, it is for one of these three rea- \nsons: that I should not stand in the way of others; or \nthat I should not run ahead too far; or that He has \nother work for me to do in another and higher sphere \nof action. \n\n\" This providence will probably shut me out from \nIhose doors which I might have euX^it^ \\K>\\^i^\\<^< \n\n\n\nS7S \n\nsoaffQrd-neaiaoreqiiwtMsuoiito Iwconw aoqiniBt \ned with theology— ft nurtter of no ■mail impoituiet. \nIt is, tt kist, a readf oxense to giro for non-eowpli- \nance with raised ezpectatioa at mf retom, wmd repeat- \ned applleatioiis to enter the field again. \n\n'4t has benefited othera. Machofthe kind feel- \ning of dear friends has heen enlisted in my hriialf— \nand some have been led to see that we know not what \na day may bring forth. It may be that this is an erii \nwhich is incidental to the highest possible good to me, \nand the good to be accomplished throogh me. There- \nfore let us receiTe it at the hand of the Lord as a kind \nmemento. I look upon it as a low4oketi bom his hand. \nTrue, I may hare brought it on myself by impmdenee, \nbut I am not sensible of any so^h cause; \n\n\" Whaterer be the result, I am in good spirits. No \nway depressed, but greatly raised. No where do I lie \nso sweetly as in the hand of Gk>d. I am looking for \nmore of the presence of the Lord ; and hope to live the \nlife of obedience. Living or dying, the prospect ii \npleasant. Farewell. \n\n\"J. B. Taylor. \n\n\" P. S. By far more did I feel for my friends than \nfoi^ myself; for I feared they would not acquiesce. \nLet us wait and see if, in all, we shall not hare occa- \nsion to say. He hath done all things weUJ* \n\n*' NeW'Hmoen,,M»ember B, 1837. \n*^Mf dear, rwy dear Brotker, \n\n\"I delay not to answer your letter receiyed this \nmorning ; for I feel that your past care of me, and pre* \n■ent solicitude, should be met with corresponding \n\"^vssions on my paxu \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOR. 373 \n\n\" Since I wrote you, I have felt no inconvenience \nfrom my bleeding, unless it be a little soreness of the \nthroat I do not apprehend, nor is it apprehended by \nothers, that the blood came from my lungs. But, as \nit is well to know the worst, bleeding at the throat \ntends to produce bleeding at the lungs. It often fol- \nlows in its train, unless proper precaution be used. \nSo it was with one who once lived in New-Haven, \nbut who is not. Dr. Taylor mentioned his case to \nme, with the caution, * Take care.' \n\n\" My dear brother, my heart, as you know, has been \nin the work of the ministry. I need not tell you how \nit has bled in view of turning aside. But I think I \nhave said at the footstool. Lord, thou badest me go \nforward; if thou say return, amen and amen. I have \nbeen happy in the varied view I have taken of the \ncase, and yet I hope to live and labor in the vine- \nyard. To realize this hope, I see, or seem to see, that \nit becomes me to *take care.' You need not appre- \nnend my engaging in meetings. I have not enlisted, \nnor do I purpose to enlist in public labor of any kind. \nBut I would remain in quiet, patient waiting, so as, \nif possible, to Tecover ftUly. It doth not become me \nto commit suicide ; of this I feel no danger. Inclina- \ntion would bid me onward, but I think I shall hold \nthe reins with a steady hand. \n\n\" My dearest interests, my dear brother, are identi- \nfied with Christ's. As it is the purpose of God to sub- \ndue rebels to himself, so I would be loyal, and enlist \nmy all to subdue others — and so would you. Well, \nas becomes wise and good men, may we act our parts \nbelow ; then rising, it will be to move in a higher \n\n32 \n\n\n\n374 \n\n\n\nsphere, and live among th6 angela^ Hmppf^ f^oriooa \nchange !— LasteTening I had a most* sweet,- filial iqp- \nproach to our hearenly Fathef . • \n\n^'I wish joa and mf other IKenids to understand \nthat I am not cast down; far,'ftr ilrom it: and why \nshould I be^ \n\n\" O no ! as I told yon, ^it is a lore-token from Him \nwho, as a fhther, pitieth his children.' Let, then, your \nthank-offering arise that it is no worsen May yoa be \ngreatly comforted wiih that comfort wherewith I am \ncomforted. An affectionate adien. ^ \n\n\n\nti \n\n\n\n«<AW9-JEbiMa, Afinmfarll, 1887. \n\n**ll3r dear Brotlwrl. sad SiiUrK. .*•■.■■ \n\n\"I doubt not yon now and then mention my namci \nas you conrerse around yoor fireside. Gladly would \nI interchange words with yon, and tell you how hap- \npy I am. Surely I am blessed of God. You know my \nlate trial — the sweetness resulting is beyond descrip- \ntion. \n\n\" You know that leaving business, I commenced \npreparation to preach the Gospel. My prospect of en- \ntering the ministry, as the time approached, has bright- \nened, with longing of soul for the worL Often, in \nyour hearing, have I hailed the coming day. The is- \nsue of my late bleeding may determine my fotnre em- \nploy — nay, my stay in this world. O, my dear bro- \nther and sister, it is sweet to lie passive in the hand \nof God, and know no will but his. But my heart is \nfull. To this state of feeling I have come only \nthrough tears and lying low at mercy's door: and now, \nwhen I think of the &«Kt^ ^eax ^\\«kx<:& tA-^rodoag \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TAYLOR. 375 \n\nwith God in preaching the Gospel, my soul finds rea- \ndy way to my eyes. Must I — must I give it up? O \nmy Father, my Father ! must I go back? It does not \nsink my spirits — far from it ; but it breaks my heart \n— tears run down my eyes. It swells my soul to un- \nutterable language, till I lie and groan before God. \n\n* Indeed I am not worthy to look up — how much \nless worthy to be put into the ministry I Well — for he \nthat doeth all things well, knows what is best, and \nthat is best for me. \n\n\" Heaven never appeared more desirable — I have \nlonged to see the King in his beauty — never did I gain \nso near access to God. Dying seems like going to my \nFather's house. And I could gladly bid adieu to the \nworld — to those I tenderly love, to parents, brothers \nand sisters, to you, for my anticipated home with \nChrist, whom having not seen, I love — but I would \nwillingly live and labor yet for threescore years and \nten, nor count the time long ; for I have longed — \nlonged to enter heaven, after havmg, under God, been \nthe means of sending multitudes inither. \n\n'* The cup which has been put into my hands I \nwould drink ; yet my heart's prayer has been, ' If it be \npossible, let this cup pass.' I have felt this evening, \nthat if God would but speak the word, his servant \nshould be healed. This, however, may not be best : \nsurely, then, you and I should willingly say, * The \nLord reigneth.' \n\n'^ To contemplate this hand that moves to address \nyou, stiffened in death — to view this ' mud -walled cot- \ntage,' already shaken and tottenng, fallen to the \nground — is sweet — for should I not sleep sweetly ? O \nyes, and my active spirit, which uoyj eVva.^^ Vi ^^««».^ \n\n\n\n376 WSMOIR OP \n\nwould be adoring, acdve and wondering among the \nspirits of the just made perfect. \n\n*' Dear, dear brother and sister, it is but a little woy \nfrom this to yonder mansions. We each expect to find \na welcome resting-place. How sweet the earnest! \nOnly a little while, and we shall be there. \n\n\" Affectionately, James. \n\n*' P. S. Since K. left, I have not noticed any blood, \nsave this morning, when a little streak was expecto- \nrated. I should not mention this, but you would know \nthe true state of the case. Rheumatism makes me an \nold man.'' \n\nIt will not be uninteresting to introduce here some \nof the conversation of Mr. Taylor at this time, illus- \ntrative of his feelings in view of the incident to which \nwe have alluded. It was noted down by a friend who \nwas a resident in the same family at the time, and his \nfrequent companion. \n\n*' When first attacked with bleeding,\" writes his \nfriend, ^' he callea me into his room and remarked, \n^ You see, my dear brother, to what God is calling me. \nI am not frightened : my mind is perfectly composed \nand happy. I have desired to live and preach iheGoe« \npel, but the will of the Lord be done. I believe that \nGod has in reserve a better portion for his people, in \nheaven, than in this world. TViis is a good world — I \nhave no reason to complain of this world — I am not \ntired of it — I am happy to continue here, so long as it \nis the pleasure of my heavenly Father that I should. \nI cannot say, so far as my individual interest is con- \ncerned, that I have an^ cVkoivt^ ^V\\ft\\Vv«t \\a Iwe or lo \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOB. 377 \n\ndie. If God has no more for me to do in this world, I \nshould be happy to die here, and go from this room to \nmy home in heaven.' \n\n'* Here we both paused in silence for some minutes, \nwhen the recollection of his friends came over his \nmind, and he added, ^ But, O my dear friends ' — here \nhis tears burst forth profusely ; and he wept in silence \nfor some time, and then continued, ' My dear parents, \nbrothers, and friends have been so kind to me, and \nhave so much anticipated my becoming a minister of \nthe Gospel, that my heart is pained, deeply pained at \nthe thought of their expectations being disappointed : \nbut this is good for me, it is just what I needed.' \n\n*^ After a short silence he said, ^ My dear brother, I \nnow am sensible that I sinned in indulging that re- \npining thought : I now feel perfectly resigned to the \nwhole will of God. I am happy — perfectly happy.' \n\n\" The next morning he said, ' My soul melted down \nbefore God last night, when I continued to ask him to \nlet me live and preach the Gospel — but I cheerfully \nsubmitted all to him. O, brother, ^od has made such \ndiscoveries to my soul as I never expected or dared \nto hope for in this world. It is wonderful ! wonderful ! \nmy body can hardly contain this immortal being that \nstruggles within ! I am willing to live my threescore \nyears and ten. I wish for it only that I may preach \nthe Gospel ; but I shall be happy to finish my work, \nand mount away to Jesus !' \n\n'^ Nov. 14th, evening. — He said, ' This has been a \nwonderful day to me. This morning I bled a little — \njust enough to remind me of my condition — I am \nthankful for it, for God has by it made this day an \nantepast of heaven to my souL^ \n\n32* \n\n\n\n. J-« \n\n\n\n378 \n\n^ Nov^ 16^' AfflktMMia^ Mid brodier Tsylor lUi \nmocniBg, * axe goodybeeaoM Uitf oome Uiden witk t \nrich blessing. I wish all the world to expexiMiee the \nsame that I do— not mj {mine, hat tiie blessings whiek \nattend them : every pain throngh which I pass, I think \nthat now I have taken one portion more of the oap— I \nshall never have that pain again, but the blessiBg \nwhich it brought to me will endue for ever. After \nall,' said he^ ' what are my pains? They are not Qeth- \nsemane — they are not the cross.' He then repeated \nthe hymn : \n\n' O wkat are aU my raffbrii^ )M»e»' Sic* \n\n\" Again, * 1 never before expeneneed such a fbllness \nof grace. It seems as thooj^ my inunortal spirit could \nnot reside in this tabernaele— as though I iitiU9t fly \naway to Christ Yet my life is a history of sins and \nmerci^. Never before have I felt myself to be so \nguilty a sinner. I deserve to have a millstone fastened \nto my neck, and t^e anchored in the depths of hell.' \n\n*' Again, in the morning, after much pain and lan- \nguor during the night, he said, ' I am well, and cahn, \nand happy — it was a happy night— every few mo- \nments my soul awaked to hold sweet communion with \nheaven. Let this clay perish, if G^od will — ^my soul is \nhappy in Him, and all will redound to his glory, whe- \nther I live or die.'' \n\n\" Ne¥hB»ven, Nov. 33, 1887. \n\"DearbroChirK » \n\n'' Yuor letter reached me in due time, and upon its \ncontents I have been pondering. After considering \nmy case, it seems to mis that I «<&%ht to remain hem \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINERD TATLOH. 379 \n\nWhat little application I make is a necessary relaxa- \ntion to my mind ; and it is with this satisfying consi- \nderation, that it is in connection with my course. Be^ \nsides writing dissertations, I find that I can investi- \ngate the subjects in theology, and so keep along with \nthe professor. Every thing on the part of my landlady \nis done to make me well, and kind friends evince their \ngood feelings. Were I away, I think I should be un- \nhappy, as I do not see that it would be duty to leave \nat present. \n\n\" Rheumatism, or some other ism, yet troubles me \nm my sides, and disturbing my sleep, tends to debili- \ntate my system. Twice since I wrote, a little streak of \nblood has appeared when I expectorated. My throat \nand lungs feel in their usual vigor. \n\n'* My soul leans on God, and sweetly reposes in his \nwill. With a weight of love to sister E. whose kind \nhand I remember as often extended to alleviate my \npain ; I am affectionately yours, James.\" \n\n\" New-Haven, Nov, 25, 1837. \n\n•• My dear Mrs. W — ^ — , \n\n\" You saw me in anguish of body — ^you heard me \ntell how happy I was in God. As on earth I have \nthanked our heavenly Father for that cup, so in hea- \nven the visitation will be more clearly expounded. You \nhave heard of my late light affliction. It would be \ntoo long a story to tell of all the attendant blessings— \nbut consolation has abounded, \n\n\" The renewal of my old attack of rheumatism has \nbeen a little painful to the body ; but O the unspeak- \nable and full glory that has come along with it. The \ncap is sweet, sweet, sweet beyond exptesnostk. \"^^ve:^^ \n\n\n\n380 MEMOIR OP \n\nme when I say it, I think it worth worlds — ^nay, worldi \nweigh nothing to it, for worlds without Christ Avouli \nbe nothing worth. With the pain, I have Christ. \n\n*^ I think I can adopt the language of some one, I \nknow not of whom : ' Though I am sometimes full ol \npains, yet I am at all times full of patience. I often \nm )urn under a sense of my corruption, but never mur- \nmur under my affliction.' And why should I mur- \nmur? This would be to oppose the medicine that \nheals my soul. The Lord never afflicts us to hurt us, \nbut to heal us. While in this wildemessj the Lord \nwould have our souls a fruitful paradise. The hus- \nbandman knows his choice trees of righteousness, and \nwhen he comes with his pruning-knife, it is not to cut \ndown the tree, but to lop off superfluous branches. \n\n'^ That this my poor cottage shakes, is a kind pre- \nmonition of its fall. Let it fall, responds my inmost \nsoul ; for who would not resign such an earthly taber- \nnacle, for a house not made with hands 7 Never did \nthe thought of having a glorious body so overpower \nme as this evening. And think you, my dear sister \nI shall prize a glorious body the less for having had \none so frail 7 More of this when we shall have heard \nthe archangel's trump, assembled at Christ's right \nhand, and been made like him ; ' for we shall see him \nas he is.' \n\n\" I am inclined to think — though I am in a strait be- \ntwixt two, having a great desire to depart, yet longing \nto live to subserve the dear interests of our dearest \nLord Jesus — I am inclined to think that Qod is not \nabout now to take down this superstructure. He may \nbe renewing the foundation. \n\n''I think 1 have \\e«m%^ «iVy\\x\\^ ^V^wa ^{oryt'fi^ la \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMERD TAYLOR. 381 \n\nmfinnities, rejoicing in tribulations, and possessing \nthe soul in patience. Sweet lessons — lessons to be \nlearned only in a certain school. In this school, an \napt scholar, having a skillful teacher, may become a \nwonderful proficient. The wiser, the better we ought \nto be — then the holier, consequently the happier. \nWell, I am happy — I lean on my Beloved, and call \nhim mine. \n\n\" It has been moat siDeet to lie in the hands of God. \nI have longed to drink every drop of the cup that my \nFather puts into my hand. Not one pain less ', for He \nknows what is best, and that is best for me. \n\n\" Could I tell you I would, but the blessing that I \nhave received this day from God is above description. \nKindest regards to Mr. W. From yourself and from \nhim I should be glad to hear again and again. The \ndeath of Mr. S. I saw mentioned in the paper. Re- \nmember me to the family, and fell them that God \noften removes outward mercies from us. in mercy \ntons. \n\n\" Fraternally yours, in cor dearest Lord Jesus,\" \n\n«J. B. Taylor. \n\n\" NeW'Hdvm, Dec. 29, 1827 \n\n\" Dear K. and E. \n\n\" Ere this year closes, anticipating the commence- \nment of the ensuing one, I wish you a happy, thrice \nhappy new year. \n\n\" To me, the year, nearly gone, has been fraught \nwith good, good beyond the years before : for we call \nboth that good which is good in itself, and that alsc \nwhich is the means of good. True, few have been \nthe days and nights in which this ftaiV bo^^ W^ x^'^v \n\n\n\nS8S inutoi* OF \n\ned quietly. Nevertheless, id this school of saiforuf \nI have be«i taught lessons which, whether I live m \nearth or in heaven, will make me wiser. \n\n'* When other refuges have failed, I have not faiM \nto find one soul-reviving. Never, perhaps, have I \ngained nearer access to Grod, held sweeter communioe \nwith him, enjoyed a more glorious hope, anticipated \na release from earth with calmer delight, than whea \npain has heen exerting its undermining influence. \n\n*' It would he repeating the story, to tell you I have \nbeen happy. You will understand me, when you re- \nmember those seasons of purest delight, in which \nyour souls, with a child-like disposition, have iaUen \ninto the hands of our heavenly ' Father, and sweetlf \nsaid, < Thy will be done.' \" \n\nTo his Parents. \n\n\" This morning I arose, and felt the ill effects of an \nanodyne. But this was gain. More fit to sleep than \nto be awake, I threw myself on the bed. Having sung \na Sabbath morning hymn« the last lines reached my \nheart — I will repeat them : \n\n' Then shall my soul wm life obtaki, \n'Nor Sabbath be enjoyed in vain.* \n\n*'Iwas athirst for 'new life.' and O that I eouM \ntell you :~God, viewed as the Holy One, melted, sub- \ndued, comforted, and happified my inmost powers. In- \ndeed I felt that never before did I gain so much 'new \nhfe ' in so short a time. As you may suppose, I did not \nsleep. No, I was awake to commune still with God. \nJesus seemed to say, *'VJ\\\\\\'iWk'^^x«oSQ«wve mv cause \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLUR. 383 \n\non earth, and preach my Gospel V With my soul lean- \ning on him, I replied, *Lord, thou knowest.' Truly, \nmy dear parents, as a herald ofine cross, I would run \nwith delight. Be assured that the desire of preaching \nwas never more ardent, for never more than of late \nhave I felt my interests identified with the cause of \nour dear Lord Jesus. And while bars have seemingly \nbeen rising, and at least threatening to fence me out \nof the vineyard, I have had my love to my anticipated \nlabor tried. Well, the prospect brightens ; and ere an- \nother year goes by, I hope you will receive me to your \nembraces, as one who officially bears the tidings of \ngreat joy. Should the Master order otherwise, I hope \nmy willing feet would run at his command. Were I \neven to leave the earth, the thought is pleasant every \nway, save that I long to stay and win souls to Christ. \nBe it as it may, of this I feel persuaded, that God is \ndoing me good, either to serve him the better here or \nat his right hand. Therefore be comforted. I rejoice \nin my being, in my endless being too. We shall live \ntill our appointed time ; then with angels, and with \nsaints in glory, renew the song of praise to Him that \nsitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb. \n\n\"May you be comforted with the same comfort \nwherewith I am comforted. \n\n\" Your affectionate and obliged son, \n\n\"James.'^ \n\nThe beginning of the year 1828 finds Mr. Taylor \nstill at New-Haven, pursuing his favorite object ; and \nthough in declining health, yet most ardently desirous \nto enter upon the great business of life, in winning \nsouls to Christ, and making delLgktfviL ^.d^^Tk^^^ \\sw \n\n\n\nspiritutlity'. The foUowing letters and extmcli iktfi \nimpmwelf the woricings of a soul uncomnumlf im \nhaed with diyine grace. \n\n'^As many hajipy returns of the season, to yon at \nour hearenly Father sees best. \n\n^ To tell yon that these are happf days to me, wooU \nonly be testifying to the great goodnesp of Gkid, Codd \nI describe the view, whence, ms so mnteh self-^loathing, \nso nrach c<9itrition, brdkenness of heart, aad melting of \nsoui-^oold I tdl the nearness Uiat (gained tbis erea- \ning to God, in view of his paternal relatim to one of hit \n' little ones '«— nearness to Christ, as brother, friend— \nand the sweetness of the comfort that flowed into my \nsoul, as my soul flowed down at the presence of Grod— \nI would speak it all forth. But it was ' unspeaksble \nand full of glory.' The name of Jesus was as ointment \npoured forth. A holy unction descended and rested \nupon me. There was eye-salve in it, hy which the vi- \nsions of a glorious heaven gathered brightness. Tru- \nly, my brother, such visits are much to be prized ; and \nthough our guests are unseen, they are not unloved \nnor unfelt. We hail the light of dieir approach, and \nrun to catch the first glimpse, till the Sun of righteous- \nness comes upon our souls with full splendor. How \nvivifying ! How soul-satisfying ! 'Tis now the world \nwranes and dwindles into its real insignifieanee. \n\n'* O that Zion would arise and shine in her beauti- \nfnl attire ! And why does she not? Not amrely be- \ncause her King is unwilling that she ahoaU he thos \nadorned. Till his loeka an waC \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAUHGRD TAYLOR. 3S5 \n\nwaited, and he is waiting still. I trust thai brother D. \nhas long since clad himself with the white robe, and \nstill wears his garments unspotted from the world. \n\n^^ Seasons in which we are thus refreshed, are renew- \ning seasons. Both bodily and spiritual vigor come \nfrom the presence of the Lord. If it be so on earth, \nwhat will it be when we see the King in his beauty ? \nO, my brother, to me heaven never appeared more de- \nsirable than it has since I saw you ; yet with strong \ndesire have I wept to stay and preach the Gospel of our \nblessed Lord Jesus, for I see there is a wide difference \nin entering heaven with and without company. Let \nhim know, that he that converteth a sinner from the \nerror of his ways, saveth a soul from death, and hideth \na multitude of sins. * They that be wise shall shine \nas the sun, and they that turn many to righteousness, a8 \nthe stars for ever and ever.' How much better to find \nin heaven a band of converts sent thither through one's \ninstrumentality, than to arrive alone. \n\n\" The pain of body that I have undergone since I \nsaw you has not been little ; yet none too much, for it \nhas been sweet discipline. ' The cup that my Father \nhath given me, shall I not drink it ?' \n\n'* Through Qod's goodness I am much relieved, and \nonly feel the inconvenience of debility. By and by \nwe hope to wear glorious bodies. When the saints \nshall put them on, may we recognize each other as \nbrands plucked out of the fire. \n\n\" Fraternally yours, James B. T aylob.\" \n\n** Middle Haddam, Jan. S7, 1&3S, \nDt^r Brother K — » \n\n\" I hare been at home a short time. I &tvd \\BL^iw^\\i \n\n\n\n386 MEMOIB OP \n\nan invalid yet. But of ail lessons, those learned in \nthe school of afiiiciion I deem the most salutary. \nWould one learn the art of being patient 1 How can \nhe know it unless he be tried 1 \n\n'' Years ago, I used to inquire, where are my triab ? \nThey ha7e come. Some part, at least, of the bitter, \nbitiersweei cup, has been drunk. The rest is in our \nFather's hand. Is not this enough? Last night, pain \n— sweet pain, as I called it — had a happy effect on my \nsoul. The thought of leaving the earth and ming- \nling with the holy above, was joy within, which bodi- \nly pain forbade me to utter — but I found my wonted \nresting-place, and calmly reposed on him whom my \nsoul loveth, till I fell asleep. How sweet — how soul- \nrefreshing, when the heart can say, ' Father, not my \nwill, but thine be done.' May you be a hundred-fold \ncomforted with the same consolation. \n\n\"Yours truly, James.\" \n\nFrom Middle Haddam, whence the foregoing note \nwas written, Mr. Taylor returned to New-Haven, but \nhis health continuing to decline, he was soon sum- \nmoned to New-York, to prepare for a tour, or a voyage \nto the southern states, with the hope — in his case, alas ! \nvain hope — of staying the ravages of disease, and re- \ncovering that health which he so earnestly desired, \nthat he might preach the Gospel. \n\nHow he was exercised in view of the proposed ex- \ncursion may be learned from the following extracts of \na letter written at Stamford, while on his way to New- \nYork, in obedience to the call to lay aside for a sea- \nson his work of preparation, and seek the restoration \nof his health. \n\n\n\nJAMB8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. \n\n*\" Stamford, Jan, 30, 1828. \n\n\n\n-DearW , \n\n\" Say you, why on your way to New-York 1 It is \nnot a project of my own ; but kind friends have issued \nthe command J not of authority, but of love, and bid me \npack up and be on my way : thus far I have complied. \n\n\"My dear Brother — at first, my heart rather revolt- \ned at the idea of going : but before I had finished the \nletter, I could not say aught why I should remain. \nNay more, I felt that I should do violence to my own \nfeelings, and the feelings of others, not to go. How \ndifferent from what I felt two months ago. Then it \nseemed impossible to go away. You remember the \nreason. It was a burning desire to live and preach \nthe Grospel ; and I wished to remain and prepare for it. \nSince then, however, that intense longing has subsid- \ned, and given place to a calmness that has caused my \nsoul sweetly to rest — not so solicitous to live and \npreach the Gospel, as that Christ, as Lord of the Vine- \nyard, should dispose of me as the execution of his \nplan requires. \n\n\"Thus you see how sweetly I have been fitted to \nleave all : indeed I go as cheerfully as I would into \nthe pulpit. I feel all that calmness and composure \nwhich result from a consciousness of doing the will of \nGod. Therefore rejoice with me, my loving brother, \nand be happy in the thought that I am put aside for \nthe present — Put aside ! I am disposed to think that \nthis turning me aside is to turn greatly to my account. \n—To my account ! — I hope to Zion's account. \n\n\" Who can say that my journey is not to survey \nfields of labor which otherwise would not a^iijeoit \ninviting ? Who can say that a \\m\\L \\a n^x. x^ ^^^ \\svj^^^ \n\n\n\n388 ,aaBii0n or \n\noat of this change of eizeomstaneef not the lemit in- \nportant — nay, a tinvd in the ehain of my prepuatkxi, \nand one withoat which the chain would twist and \nhreak? \n\n^ May I not fail to make this a profitable tonr ! Pmy \nfor me mow as you read, and ever, that I may, by erery \noverturning, be more and mor6 moulded into the image \nof our dear Lord Jesus. \n\n\" I now go out, not knowing the result. I go, per- \nhaps to recover my health : this ismy fnrtmary object \nI go, perhaps to die. Well; I have the sweet pros- \npect of yet mingling with the holy in hflSTen. Neveri \nnever have I had happier days than since I saw you. \nI verily believe I have be^n on Mount deary and \nspied out the Canaan that we love. \n\n'^ Yours, in thehest bonds. \n\n\"Jas. B. Tatlob.\" \n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. \n\n\n\nVUUs at the Souik^Sickneta^Death — Condustn^ \n\nAfter some detention in New- York, Mr. Taylor set \nsail for Charleston on the 7th March, and arrived on \nthe 15th, without any occurrence of note, but, as he \nthought, with evident mitigation of his disease. After \nsojourning some time at Charleston, and enjoying the \ncordial hospitalities of that warm-hearted peoplci he \n1 to Savannah in Qeoc^ia^ thence to Augusta, \n\n\n\nJAMBS BRAINBRD TAYLOR. 389 \n\nto Columbia, to Fayetteville, Petersburg, Richmond, \nand so back to New- York. The kind attentions and \nexpressions of interest which he received from many \npersons during this tour, were often spoken of by him \nin language of acknowledgment to them and grati- \ntude to Grod. From these several places he wrote \nnumerous letters to his friends, filled chiefly with de- \nscriptions of places, and observations on men and man- \nners, which prove, that, though in search of health as \nhis primary object, he had a heart -still to mingle with \nthe friends of Jesus, and to love his Master's image \nunder whatever clime or color it might appear; that \nhe felt for the interests of the Redeemer's kingdom, \nwithout regard to localities, and that he was a shrewd \nobserver of mankind. \n\nFrom a few of these communications extracts will \nbe given, as far as they exhibit the exercise of his faith \nand piety, and show the fatal progress of his disease, \nand the spirit with which he bore the waning of hope, \nas to recovery. \n\n' At Savannah Mr. Taylor was advised to make an \nexcursion for a few days into the country ; and ac- \ncordingly, having received letters of introduction to a \nfew of the planters in Liberty county, he found his \nway to the residence of a gentleman with whom he \nspent two days, and of whom he thus writes : \" Mr. \n■ is a single man, of about my age, which, you \n\nknow, to-morrow, (15th April,) will be 27. Though \nnot a professor of religion, yet he takes a stand indi- \ncative of heartfelt piety. Every night he meets his \nnegroes collectied for worship ; sings, reads, expounds \nthe Bible, and prays. His sister, a lady of known \npiety, meets the little folks in ite SiS\\«ntfy«i^ ^\\A*\\sfc- \n\n33* \n\n\n\nBtraeU and pnyt wkb tiMm: f»*a£ff0*«ortibf prm^ \ntices*^ — and for this reason we transfer the aoeoont of \ntheir eondiict to our pages. \n\n^' At Col. L.'8 I had a time of refreshing from the \npresence of the Lord : having retired fatigued and with \nsome pain in my side, I thought on health : our sym- \npathizing High Priest was nearto bless. The thought \nof him was halm to my spirit I was fully persuaded \nthat if he spoke the word, his senrant should be healed. \nTo lire and recover I saw to be in some respects de- \nsirable, yet, rather than carry about aiweZeM tenement, \nI felt it desirable to depart: yes, thou£^ I seemed to \nlore my friends more than ever, I felt that I oould give \nyou all up, and die, eren among strangers. My soul \nexperienced joys that elevated me ; and then I could \nso sweetly fall into the hands of God, and meltingly \nsay, my Father — ^my Savior.\" \n\n\" Augutta, AprU 18, 18Sa \n** My dear Brother, \n\n\" The evening before I left Savannah for this place \nI dropped a letter into the post-office, saying, among \nother things, that I was about to set my face home- \nward. We left Savannah on Thursday A. M. and \nreached thi« to-day. Mr. E.^s* horse preceded my \nfox, and thus we both came in my gig. With a little \nmore practice, I think, ' upon a pinch,' I could demand \n\nijjS per month as a stage-driver ; ^but I feel like \n\nany thing else than a single light thought. \n\n*' Were I to describe my feelings, I should repre* \nsent myself as pensive or disheartened. I do not com- \n\n• A feitow traveller for hsaUlmihotsiMvUhMr. T. fimaN. Y \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 381 \n\nplain : of all men, I hare most reason to be thankfuL \nI would not complain — no, never. But, my dear bro- \nther, 1 feel that I am not gaining much : the week or \nten days past, the old pain has returned to my side. \nWhatsoever be the result, I hope in all things I shall \nbe kept from sinning. Whether my days be few or \nmany, nothing seems more abhorrent to my feelings \nthan to be situated where I shall be a burden. But, to \ntry me and others, this may be my lot. But desist-— > \nit is not good to borrow trouble. Yours affectionately, \n\n\"Jambs.\" \n\nFrom Augusta Mr. Taylor wrote again, April 80^ \nwhen he says : \n\n\" How pleasant to feed in green pastures while tra- \nveling through the wilderness. To-day the Good \nShepherd hath given me a rich repast. My soul has \ngained strength from feeding on angels' food — if an- \ngels feast on the manifestations of God to them. \nSinging one of the songs of Zion, my heart began to \nmelt, and sweetly flowed down into tencj/erness and \nlove. To call God my Father, was sweet beyond ex- \npression ; Christ, as my eider Brother, Friend, Shep- \nnerd, Lord — my all, captivated all my powers, and I \ncried with a broken heart — \n\n'Thou lovely source of true deUght, \nWhom I, unseen, adore> \nUnveil thy beauties to my sight, \nThat I may love thee more.' \n\n\" how soul-humbling ! how soul-elevating ! how \nfull of consolation I to have the 1uami«%\\»^)vyoA ^l*^^ \n\n\n\n892 MBBIOIR OP \n\nsus as they are not made to the world. Perhaps ne^ \nver with more confidence could I ask for the Holy \nSpirit. Blessed anointings! with this Messing we \nclimb the ' delectable mountains,' stand on Mount \nClear,' and look away to the fair land. How fair and \ndesirable it appeared to me this evening ! More desir- \nable than the land of my fathers ! O the prospect of \nmeeting the holy, when I shall haye answered the \nend of my being in this world. My prospect bright- \nens as Grod shows his beauties to my soul ; and I \nlong for the time to arrive when I shall become a dis- \nembodied spirit. I wish to behold the glirry which \nChrist wishes his disciples to see. ' Father, I will \nthat they whom thou hast given me be with me where \nI am, that they may behold my glory.' Much is com- \nprised in that word, glory. Well, it will not be long \nbefore the disclosure will be made. \n\n\" Whenever I am so peculiarly blessed, then my \nlongings are to preach the Gospel. There is an in- \ntensity of feeling that finds no expression hut in groans. \nStill I lie in the hands of God, and if I mistake not. \nacquiesce in his will ; and I feel fully persuaded that \nmy protracted trials will issue in my good, whether I \nlive or die. Through your prayers I may yet he re- \nstored and given to the church, to which, under God, \nlong since and repeatedly I have surrendered myself. \n\n\"24th. — It may disappoint you, as I have been dis- \nappointed ; but you would know my case fully. I had \nhoped that I should not have a return of bleeding. \nFor two or three days previous to night before last, I \nhad a stricture across my lungs, and they felt as though \nthey were tied up. Then I had a turn of bleeding, \npretty much as wVien «iX '^c^-'Vlvi««w, Va&i ui^ht \n\n\n\nJAMES BBAINERD TATLOIL 303 \n\nthere was another discharge of ahout the same amount| \nand this morning another. I feel no inconvenience \nfrom it, but am relieved. I have not room to say much \nof the kindness that is shown me. You would be \ngrateful to witness the attentions that are paid to the \nstranger in his exilo* And I am happy. This morn- \ning my spirit has been sweetly refreshed. Be not con- \ncerned about me. \n\n** Columbia, May 2, 1823. \n*' For a week, I think, before I left Augusta, and \nsince, there has been no blood from my throat or \nlungs. After all, think not too much of my recovery; \nI do not, except that I wish to live to preach the Gos- \npeL O how I have longed to put in the sickle here ! \nLast Sunday evening a crowded house of young peo- \npie waited to hear the truth. Think not that it injur- \ned me ; for I was better after it : it seemed to untie my \nlungs. As I delivered my message, I longed to fol- \nlow it up. But no ; whether I live or die, the Lord be \nmagnified.\" \n\nFrom Columbia Mr. Taylor pursued his course \nnorthward, until reaching Louisburg, N. C. as a ChrU^ \ntian traveler^ he stopped to keep holy day, and thence \nsent the following interesting letter : \n\n''Jl^ySe, 1888L \n** My dear, demr Brother, \n\n^ Though worn out with the journey of the day, yon \nwill allow me to pour a little from the fullness of my \nheart. I am in a snug harbor, with the prospect ot \nenjoying the approaching Sabbath, by keeping holy \nday here. I need the day both foi bod>i ^ii^xQ^'QA\\\\A \n\n\n\n■ ■• » \n\n\n\nrenew my phyeieal itnngtfa (br Uie jonniey, md fa \npat o& anew the umdr o£ rigfateoosBess. \n\n\"My fonner letter* bear testiiiumy to repected aea- \naons in which I bare been refreshed. Last ni^^ om \noccurred, and O how timely ! I wet my coach witb \ntears, sweet tears, from a broken, sabmlssiTe heart \nMy dear brother, yon know what a MoHdhtde I have \nfelt to preach the Qospel ; and bat for preparation for \nthis, how willing I was to relinqoish all, upon year \nvisit to New-HaTen.\" [This refers to his brothei^ \ndesire that he shonld traTel for his health.] \" O, it \nwas a hwming of soal, that would take no denkL \nYou know, from my testimony, how I yielded the de- \ncision into God's hands, to dispose of me as pleased \nhim. In this I hare rested. Last night it seemed \npretty clear to my mind what would be the result.- I \nlooked not for the blessedness of standing upon the \nbeautiful walls of Zion, as a watchman to sound the \nalarm. The evidence was, that the trumpet had fail- \ned. The fact stares me in the face. If I attempt to \nconverse, to sing, to pray aloud, the once — tuned in- \nstrument is discordant : shortness of breath is tronble- \nsome. If I attempt to walk up a hill, it excites the \nlungs so much that respiration is difficult ; and even \nthrowing myself upon the bed produces breathing \nenough for one that has run a race. My lungs are ve- \nry sensitive. Now all this was not the case when I \nleft you, nor when I set out upon my journey from the \nsouth. A blessing came in connection with the hold \nwhich the ministry had upon my heart, and with the \ninterrogatory. Will you give it up? Dear brotheri \nthink my whole soul responded — and I hardly know \nhow— ^ Yes, yea, thy w\\\\\\ V*^ teaft\\ viA \\!fiAx« \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 395 \n\nStaying upon God, and a solid, indescribable comfort \nwithin. Thus you see how one thing after another i% \nlopping off. And indeed, more than ever, I thought it \nbecame me to set my house in order; and I longed to \nlive more like Christ, and to exhibit more of his cha« \nracter. The prospect was pleasant even of putting \naside prospective labors and of entering into rest. If \nit should soon take place, will not my brother, my dear \nbrother, whom I seem to love more than ever, give me \nup ? Yes, like a Christian , and so will others whom \nI love. As ever, yours, James.\" \n\nEarly in the month of June Mr. Taylor arrived at \nhis brother's in New-York, whence he sent a number \nof letters to his friends. Having previously announc- \ned to his parents his arrival, on the 25th of June he \nwrote them as follo\\^s : \n\n\" New- York, June 25, 182a \n\" I doubt not my beloved iriends on the kill would \nrather see my person than my letters. It is indeed \ngreat self-denial on my part not to gratify them. But \nas it is considered on the whole best for me to tarry \nhere yet a little, I will again let you know of my \naffairs. \n\n\" My letter written from Louisburg you have pro- \nbably seen. In that, I think it was, 1 mentioned the \nfact that I had relinquished the hope of preaching. \nThat conquest was a crown. Last night I obtained \nanother : ' Blessed is the man that endureth tempta- \ntion, (trial,) for when he is tried, he shall receive the \ncrown of life.' The trial that assailed me was a pain \nin my left breast, which to me appeared to be a new \nindication of my mortality. It uvaa -w^Yciwafc^ VvCbi. \n\n\n\n306 MEMOIR OP \n\njoy^ I yielded sweet assent. My heart was melted i \ninto tenderness, and my whole soul felt a preforenct, \nif it were Gtod's will, to depart. I desired to he f^ne. \nI longed to see my hearenly Father, whose matchless \ngoodness had plucked me as a brand from the burning. \nI longed to be with Christ. To see him to whom 1 \nam indebted for the much he has done for me. I long- \ned for the society of angels and saints, and thought of \nsome whom I should see among the glorified. \n\n'^ The goodness of God, as exhibited in my conver- \nsion, and the present comfort of soul in the midst of \nmy protracted trials, was overwhelming. -Thus my \ndear, dear parents, see that the Lord leaveth me doU \nSurely he is with me ; and for his presence my pil- \nlow is often wet with tears of joy. Should I recover, \nI shall look upon the varied dealings of God with me \nas happily preparatory to my future usefulness. \n\n\" With love to you all, James.\" \n\nAfter remaining some weeks in New-York, for the \nsake chiefly of medical advice and attendance, Mr. \nTaylor repaired to his father's house, whence he wrote \nto his brother K several letters showing the flat- \ntering nature of his disease, and exhibiting something \nof his character. \n\n'*MiddU HaddttM, July 27, 18S8. \n*< My dear Brother, \n\n\" Conversation engrosses but little of my time. My \n\nfood IS light — digestion good. I ride more or less ca \n\nhorseback or in my gig. During each day, spend \n\nsome time in studying metaphysics, philosophy, and \n\n. theology. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERO TAYLOR. 809 \n\n\" From the fact that I am able to do more, and \nwith greater facility, I persuade myself that I gather \nstrength : I think I cough less. Blisters repeatedly ap- \nplied have kept me not a little sore. However, it is \ngood philosophy to endure a smaller, to root out a \ngreater evil. Yesterday I felt sick of being sick, not \nso much on my own account, as on account of those \n80 benevolently affectioned towards me. I hope it did \nnot rise to a complaint of Providence. But the idea \nof so much and continued expenditure of the time, and \nmoney, and feelings of others on my behalf, and with \nso little, if any amendment, sadly affected me. The \nproof, too, that I have of its all flowing from a fullness \nof overflowing kindness on their part, only tended to \nmake me feel more ; for a soul that feels undeserving \nand dependent, cannot but appreciate such favors, \nand is glad to unburden itself by expressing a corres- \nponding gratitude. \n\n\" This morning I felt strong enough to preach. I \nam encouraged, and live with the hope of one day tri- \numphing over debility and disease, and standing forth \na well man, to subserve the cause of Gk>d on earth. \nThe hill looks well, and is improving. The trees grow \nfinely. Are you and yours coming up? We shall be \nglad to see you, and will do all we can to make you \nhappy. Love to E. and the children. \n\n\"Yours, as ever, James B. Taylor.\" \n\n<' Middle Baddam, Aug. 4, 1838. \n** Dear Brother, \n\n\" 1 think myself gaining in strength and fieili^ thoogh \n\nlittle of either ; enough, however, for encouragement. \n\nI have been reviewing my course, ao tti^t. \\ wsl^^^^> \n\n3^ i,Ykt«s[Vs«. \n\n\n\n396 MEMOIR OP \n\nnigh prepared to be examined for license. Two of fny \nclass were examined and licensed week before last. \nThe Association meets again on the last Tuesday of \nthis month to license the remainder. This being om \nthing that I wish to get out of the way, and being pre- \npared for it, I have thought it best to be licensed also. \nMy sermon I wrote, for the most part, when at the \nSouth. I presume your sentiments on this point will \naccord with mine. Among other reasons, these have \nweighed somewhat on my mind, amid the uncertaintjr \nof my recovery so as to be able to preach. \n\n'* Should I be able to perform the duties of a naval \nchaplain, and a sea voyage be recommended, I should \ngladly enter such a sphere of labor for the sake of \ndoing good and defraying expenses. Sboold I become a \nresident of a West India island, as has been suggested, \nif found to agree with my constitution, I had better go \ncommissioned to preach than otherwise. Should 1 go \nSouth to spend the winter, it would not be a disadvan- \ntage to go as a preacher. Should I remain at home, \na burden would be off my mind. So far, then, as I \ncan see, I cannot but conclude that it is my duty to be \nexamined and licensed with my class. \n\n\"Yours tiuly, J. B. Taylor.\" \n\n\" MiddU Haddam, Sept. 9, 1823. \n'•Duar Brother K , \n\n\" I am here at anchor ; no head wind but blows some \none good. I hope to ride out the storm patiently^ and \nespecially amidst so many comforts. Often the sky, \nlong lowering, clears away ; and hope, as if on wings, \nplaces me where I have longed to be, m the vineyard, \n/read| the other da^t \n\n\n\nk. \n\n\n\n)AME9 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 399 \n\n\n\n-* The youth, \n\n\n\n* Who in the glowing mom of vigoroas li^e, \n\n* High reaching after great religious deeds. \n\n* Was suddenly cut ofi^ with all his hopes \n\n* In sunny bloom, and unaccomplished left \n' His withered aims — saw everlasting days \n\n* Before him dawning rite, in which to achieve \n\n* All glorious things.' \n\n\" As I read I wept. O, my dear brother, it is hard \nwork, bat it is good work. But I am gaining, and \nought to be thankful. A course of suffering may be \nthe necessary means to prepare for a sphere of high \naction either in this or in the other world. Think not \nthat I complain : no, I think I would not for the uni- \nverse take my course into my own hands. Why not \ngive a call on the Hill ? We all should be so glad \nto see you. \n\n\"Your much obliged, J. B. Taylor.\" \n\nIn accordance with Mr. Taylor's views on the sub- \nject of being licensed, he attended the Middlesex Con- \nsociation, which met in East Haddam, Oct. 8, 1828 ; \nread his trial sermon, on the text, John, 12 : 26, '* If \nany man serve me, him will my Father honor,\" — WRS \nexamined with respect to his own religious experi- \nence, his knowledge of Christian theology, and his \nability to teach and defend the truths of the Gospel — \nall which were approved, and he was licensed to \npreach as a candidate for the Gospel ministry. \n\nBut his health being unequal to the labor of execut- \nmg this long-desired commission, it was resolved by \nMr. Taylor's friends, but with his own hearty concur- \nrence, tnat he should spend the winter at the Ucion \nTheological Seminary in Prince Ed^w^<io\\wvv^0^'>^- \n\n\n\n400 MSMon or \n\nginia, in the family of the Rer. John Holt Rice, D. D. ,, \nthen Professor of Christian Theology in that Institu- \ntion. To this retreat Mr. Taylor was invited by the ^ \naffectionate kindness of Dr. Rice, and hy the mild and \nhealthful climate of that part of Virginia. Before set- \nting out on this journey, he addressed letters to seve- \nral of his friends, from which some extracts will now \nbe given. \n\nTo his friend L. P. he commenced a letter at Mid- \ndle Haddam on the 1st of October, and concluded it \nin New- York, after leaving his father's house for the \nlast time. \n\n<* Mid^ Haddam, Oct 1, 1828. \n** My miieh loved IHend, \n\n\" You will be glad to hear from me, though stiU ' in \nbonds.' The chain that bound me when at your house \nin June, though not so heavy, still holds me. Whe- \nther I shall burst it ere I become a disembodied spirit \nis known only to Him who has thus far upheld my \ngoings. This is to let you know that I consider my- \nself convalescent, though about my lungs there are in- \ndications no way flattering. Also, that I purpose to \nleave my paternal roof for another of my loved homes \nin New-York. Should circumstances permit, I may \nvisit New-Jersey. I do not make too much of seeing \nyou, for I may be disappointed ; yet how gladly would \nwe be comforters one of another. \n\n\" The grave does not seem so near as it did when \nyou saw me so prostrated ; but still I may be standing \non its brink.\" \n\n**JVew-Yark, Oct. 31, \n\n\"The ahove, as you perceive^ I wrote nearly a \nmon th since. H*\\tV\\et \\ Vv«iv ^ twa^ Vi ^cJY»saVwQx^v«^ \n\n\n\nJAMBB BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 401 \n\ndays more. On Monday I expect to set sail, net to \nyour dwelling, but to a haven appointed by friends and \nphysicians. I set sail for Petersburg, Virginia ; thence \nI go to Prince Edward county to winter, unless in \nmercy I should be taken to a clime more desirable. \n\n\" I have detained this with the hope that in person \nI should see you. For this purpose I had designed to \npass through Princeton and Lawrenceville. But as \nmy health does not warrant the fatigues of journey ing, \nand the excitement of seeing dear friends, I am de- \nnied the pleasure. It is self-denial. Perad venture I \nmay retuia in the spring, better able to enjoy the so- \nciety of those I love. If not, the land of dear delights \nis before me. Do you ask how I am in my protracted \nafflictions ? The Lord doeth all things well. Sweet \nthoughts of Jesus melt my soul. Communion with \nheaven is soul-elevating and soul-transforming. In a \nword, I am a happy, though a sick and dying man. \nThe Lord most gently and mercifully hands me down \nthe hill of life, while the descent seems very short. \nO, It will be sweet to take the last step, and walk in- \nto eternity. To me the grave wears choice attire- \nParadise more choice. I wish, and often with long- \ning, to see Jesus as he is, to mingle with the holy \nabove-^to sing the song of the shining ones. O think \nnot that I am gloomy or depressed ; far, far, very far \nfrom it. Think of me as visited from above, and roll- \ned along in a chariot all paved with love — think of \nme as one who loves you — think of me and pray for \nlae as one feeble, shattered, tottering, and almost fall- \ning — ^falling into the arms of our Beloved. \n^If my last — my most affectionate adieu, \n\n^^ James B, Tayuc^^.\" \n34^ \n\n\n\n408 MBMOIB \n\nRefertnee has already be«n made to a fragment of \na diary kept for a short time daring the latter part of \nthis year. From this record we shall now present t \nfew extracts : \n\n\" Oct. 9, P. M. — Left my paternal roof on my way \nto a southern clime. Our tears flowed at the soaod \nfarewell, — dear, kind, affectionate kindred. \n\n'' 10th. — Reached New-Haven, and one of my lored \nhomes — again enjoyed the social and friendly inter- \ncourse of kindred spirits. Our christian communion \nwas douhly sweet. I enjoyed refreshings — especially in \nSunday eyening exercises, in which all were melted. \n\n'* 13th. — Left New-Haven, and again met those 1 \nlove in New- York, again occupied a loved habitation, \nand again received the kind offices and sympathies of \ndear K. and E. Met Mrs. Palmer and Mary, who \nembark to-morrow for Charleston : they urge me to \naccompany them. I lie moored, and wait with sweet \npatience the decision of physicians and friends. May \nGod direct. \n\n^^ Last night, though restless and wakeful, I was \ngreatly blessed. My enjoyment of God, in the night sea- \nson, filled me with sweet peace and strong confidence. I \nthink I know and have felt for a season past, especial- \nly last night, the ' strait ' in which Paul was. I wa- \ntered my pillow with sweet tears — I longed to fly \naway to Jesus — I longed to stay and labor in his cause* \nI can neither say let me die, nor let me live. My heart \ncries out for Grod to lead and dispose of my all. I am \nin his hands, and he will guide me even unto death. \n\n^ 18th. — I am now waiting the arrival of medical \n\n\n\nJAMBS BnAlNERD TAYLOR. 403 \n\nmen, to examine and pronounce upon my case. Should \nthey say that I am not in a confirmed consumption, \nor at least on the confines of it, I shall he disappointed. \n\n\"Yesterday, P. M. and erening, I enjoyed sweet \nmeltings of soul in view of the many mercies sur« \nrounding me. Surely, if on my way to an early grave, \nT am going down most comfortably— my dear friends \nload me with benefits. \n\n\" It is sweet to look beyond time. I think I must \nregard my laboring days as gone by, and perhaps 1 \nshall soon enter upon my long resting day, \n\n\" It has made my heart ache to think that I should \nbe put aside so soon, but grace has proved sufiicient : \nI am sweetly patient. The Father smiles upon his \nchild. A sympathizing Jesus is with me. Comfort \nand joy from the Holy Ghost pervade my soul. \n\n\" Retrospectively, it appears that Ood has designed \nto perfect me through aufferinga — pain of body and \ndisappointment as to the ministry. Wel^ I am a wit- \nness to the wise dealings of the wise One» God knows \nwhat is best, and that is best for me. He hath led me, \nas he leads one to holiness, to happiness, to heaven. \nAmen. \n\n\" 19th.-*The physicians came. The result of their \nexamination was unexpected. So £u as they could \ndiscover, they thought me sound, except aa aflRsctioa \nof the mucous membrane, which they woald endeavor \nto relieve. So it seems I may yet recovev and live to \npreach the Gk)spel ; still uncertainty hangs over the \nrestoration of my debilitated and overdone system. \n\n\" From the examination it was discovered that the \ncause of my painful days and nights, for two years and \nmore, was a spinal affection : which disease commenc- \n\n\n\n404 MEMOIR OF \n\ned, continued, and I hope teiminated, without being \nfound out hefore. \n\n\"2Sth.— Yesterday had sweet thoughts of Jesus. \nThe thought of becoming a pure spirit refreshed my \n\nsoul. \n\n\" Last night, after I had retired, a precious love to- \nken was handed down to the unworthiest. The Lord \nremembereth that I am but dust: I am of a feeble \nframe. Often I find it a laborious task to repeat even \nthe four lines I learned in my earliest infancy — < Now \nI lay me down to sleep,' &c. Greatly fatiguing to \nrepeat the Lord's prayer. How mercifully the Lord \naccommodates himself to this weakness. The other \nnight I had but just lain down and thought of the \nsweet pleasures which religion affords, when my soul \nwas filled with peace ; so, at times during the day, in \nmy lonely hours as I sit and while away the time, \nunable to study or read. Last night I was refreshed \nwith an unction from the Holy One. \n\n\" I thought of meeting one who asked me whether I \nhad any solicitude now to preach the Gospel. My an- \nswer was, no. I added, the days of my solicitude are \ngone by. Then I remembered seasons of anxiety, \ndeep, nay, burning anxiety, that I had had to do the \nwork of a minister of Jesus Christ. Mine eyes ran \ndown with tears, with the sweet consciousness of an \nhonest appeal to God, who had ever marked out my \nway. The seasons have not been few in which I have \ngroaned for the work, and for due preparation for it. \nThe thought of relinquishing this object was plea- \nsing, if so the will of God be. Nay, I was rather desi- \nrous of leaving all behind and going to Jesus. I think \nI see enough worth dying for. \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAIMBRD TAYLOR. 405 \n\n\" 29th. — Of the seven sons of my father's house, I \nam apparently farthest on my joamey to the grave. \nTo-day I wept at the thought of soon leaving my dear \nfriends far behind. I shall leave ihem more an inva- \nlid than when I*went south last spring — it grieves me \nnot to think of bidding them adieu, even if it prove a \nlast farewell. I love them now — when glorified, how \nmuch more. Peace and heaven's choicest blessings \nattend them. It is sweet to think of falling into the \nhands of Jesus. It is delightful to confide in God as a \nFather who has suited his dealings to the frailties of \nhis little one — I wept in his presence as I remember- \ned my disobedience. How great his grace and mercy ! \nThere is forgiveness with Gk>d. It was delightfully \npleasant to contemplate the Holy Spirit as Comforter ; \nI longed to see of the things of Christ yet more and \nmore brightly. Roll on, ye wheels of time, and bring \nme, a welcomed saint, to the dwelling-place of Jesus, \nmy best beloved.\" \n\nOn the 4th November Mr. Taylor, as announced in \nhis letters, embarked for Petersburg, (Virginia,) on \nhis way to Prince Edward, and arrived on the 9th. \nWhence, on the 15th, he wrote to his brother at New- \nHaven : \n\n\n\n\"DearF- \n\n\n\n\"\" Having entered on the study of your profession, \nmake conscience of studying to approve yourself unto \nGod, To please God — to be blessed and made a \nblessing, thus to live and be happy— should be our \nfirst, constant, and last aim. If I sought for one thin^ \n\n\n\n406 MEMom or \n\nmore than another in my preparatory course, aead^ \nmical, collegiate, and theological, it was to be signallf \nANoiNTEn of Godj for the great, the good, the most desi- \nrable, the highest work of man. I am happy in this con- \nsciousness. With little probability of ever doing this \nwork, I am greatly glad that I sought this holy unc- \ntion and I can testify that I found it. All along I was \nanointed ; and I most affectionately and urgently pre- \nsent this as pre-eminent in importance. All else will \ngo on well enough — rather let all else suffer, than \nforego the refreshings of the Holy Ghost. \n\n\" It is very pleasant for me to think that God can \nglorify himself and let me be an invalid. My confi \ndence in God to endow me great, has much increas- \ned of late. Think of me then, not as desponding \nunder his debarring me from the vineyard, but as quite \ncontented and happy — as rather willing to be sick, be- \nlieving it to be his will. Think of me as handed down \nvery kindly, tenderly, and mercifully, though rapidly, \non my way to the grave. Heaven appears very desi- \nrable. \n\n\" Ever truly and affectionately, James.'' \n\nThe beginning of 1829 finds Mr. Taylor located :n \nhis last home on earth. Having spent a few days in \nPetersburg and Richmond, enjoying the hospitalities \nof Christian friends, whose privilege it was to enter- \ntain this devoted disciple, he proceeded to his destined \nresting-place in the Union Theological Seminary, \nwhither Dr. Rice had invited him to come and spen^ \nthe winter. \n\nAfter his arrival in Virginia, Mr. Taylor wrott \n\n\n\nJAJA£8 BRAINERD TATLCR. 407 \n\nseveral letters, which speak of places and their aspect ; \nof Christian friends and their kindness; and of his \ngratitude to God and to them ; of the goodness of God, \nand of his own love and confidence, and acquiescence \nin the divine will ; and of the alternations of hope \nand despondency, as he felt better or worse under the \nchanges incident to one who is contending with the \nmost flattering and fatal disease. But though borne \ndown with his malady, and often oppressed with a \nsense of weakness almost intolerable, he lost no op- \nportunity of endeavoring to relieve the anxiety of hia \nrelatives and friends, and of expressing his strong \naffection for them. Nor did he cease to feel, and by \nall the means in his power to labor for that cause which \nto him was dearer than life. As an evidence of the \nmterest he continued to feel in the advancement of \nChrist's kingdom, and as an appeal which may reach \nsome heart, and yet bring a faithful laborer into the \nservice of the church, we give the following extract of \na letter written 4th January, 1829. \n\nm \n\n'^ Unable as I am to labor, and seeing the great har- \nrest-fieid and the fewness of the laborers, I am so \ninterested that I cannot but urge men to go into the \niharvest. I know nojt what may be your decision now \nas to this object ; but chese thoughts suggest them- \nselves to me : Is it not in the power of my friend to \ndo much in advancing the kingdom of Jesus Christ, \ni»y preaching the Gospel? Would not his father, \n£rom a consideration of the fewness of ministers, and \nthe great and pressing call for them, say, Go, my \nson, and be a minister of Jesus Christ. I will con- \nsent to deny myself, for the sake of Rvca. ^Va VsSv \n\n\n\n4m \n\nlietfren to die on' the crost.^ -Hdiir can ycv-tliliiit ot \ndragging out your Uh in that Mchidad spot eia « §ma, \nwhen yo9 may go^-^t into the ^ImM antt be so mad \nmore U9^mL Yoa wte yofmg'-^iicmie toio old to taat- \nmence. la a few yearayoii may be prepasvd, anA diea \nyoa maif lire maily yean to preaich th^ lakispeL Ai \nto means for your Mppciti yo^ need not be. troubled : \nonly make ap yoinr miad^ and fhe'way ^1! be opened. \n^ I present this-^lgect to yea tofAMk of. Think \nof it alone. €k> oyer the ground again -and again, and \nsee if it be not ifimr daif to enter upon this irorir. \nWrite to me about it Tell me the diflftcahles, if then \nbe any, in the way. I shall be glad to hear of year \nspiritual weUare.\" \n\nTo a much esteemed Christian brother Mr. Taylor \nwrote on the 15th January, 1829. \n\n*' C^fttim Tked, Stm» Priiue Edward^ Fc \n•* Dear Brother B— • \n\n\" Your love-letter of the 1st inst reached me a few \ndays since. I was glad to break its- seal, and find it \nwas from a friend and brother beloved. \n\n^' It has become so much of a task for me to write, \nthat I must now put off my correspondents with a few \nlines only. \n\n*^ By the letters I have written, you have beard of \nmy condition. The peace of God, which passeth all \nunderstanding, keeps my heart, through Christ Jeeos. \nSince I saw you I have not been a stranger to sweet \nanointmgs, whose fruit is lasting peaee. On my be* \n^ \" will rejoice. \n\n\n\nJAM£8 BRAINERD TAYLOR. 409 \n\n^ 1 am glad of your joy and peace in believing. May \nthey increase more and more. \n\n** The Seminary is flourishing. Much has already \nbeen done by it for the good of this land. Very much \nmore remains to be done. \n\n'* My debility will be my excuse for brevity. I shall \nbe glad to hear from you again and again. \n\n\" Yours truly, James B. Taylor.'' \n\nOn the same date he wrote to his brother K. \n\n** In my absence heretofore, as now, I have often \nthought myself, the happiest of men. So be comfort- \ned, my dear brother, and ever think of me as taken up \nby our heavenly Father, as a little one, and continu- \nally and greatly blessed. On Saturday, my soul was \nmelted under a sense of our heavenly Father's pre- \nsence. Sitting alone my uplifted desire was uttered — \nFather, give me the Holy Spirit. An unction from \nrhe Holy One greatly refreshed my soul. I had been \nsaying) Lord, how long ? in reference to my protracted \ntrials. My whole soul yielded, and said, Bven so \nlong as the Lord will ; but thou wilt give me thy Spi- \nrit. I hardly know when my confidence gathered \nstrength so fast in God, that he would make me hap- \npy. With unusual sweetness I adopted the language \nof Jesus, * Father, glorify thyself.' O, I felt happy \nthat he would be glorified. My confidence in the gift \nof the Holy Ghost was greatly strengthened. \n\n\" After such anointings the soul rests in calm, sweet, \naeavenly peace. \n\n' Not a wave of trouble rolls \n* Across my peaceAil breast. \n\n•* With increased affection. ^ miw.-^^ \n\n35 4.^.'Y«!^'«« \n\n\n\n410 MEMOIR OP \n\nTo another brother Mr. Taylor wrote on the 20th s \n\n** Those letters that I have written cost roe labor, ai \nevery effort does. And surely I know I would not \nwrite again but to gratify my friends. Though di- \nrected to one, they were meant to give information ta \nall. I am sorry that my brother thinks me depressed, \nwhen it is not so : far from it ; peace rules in my heart; \nsweet refreshings come from above, and happify me \nfrom time to time. Think of me then as happy, \nvery happy.\" \n\nTo another friend, on the 35th : \n\n\" I hope you are all well. I love to think of my \nfriends as enjoying health; it gives me high plea- \nsure ; yet higher to know that they are abiding in \nChrist, and walking as he walked. \n\n\" You have often heard my testimony to the rich \ngrace of God. It nov/ abounds unto me. His visits \nof love are followed with sweet peace. This helps \nme much to bear my weakness, which I find harder \nwork than formerly. \n\n' Think of me as one blessed of God, and happy, \nthough an invalid. \n\n\" I have done no preaching, nor shall I do any but \nparlor preaching. \n\n\" Let me be refreshed by a letter from you. Through \nletters I now obtain almost all my foreign pleasure. \n\n\"This is written out of much weakness. And I \nshould treat you as I should my other friends — not \nwrite a line but to gratify you, for it is a great physi- \ncal task. Glad am I always at the last word. \n\n\" Farewell) aa evw, ^o\\ii»^ Jua. B. Taylob.* \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 411 \n\nTo his brother K. he wrote, Feb. 11: \n\n\" For some time past I have been gradually grow- \ning feeble. J am much more 90 than on my arriyal. \nFor a few days I seemed to have a coldness approxi- \nmating to chill, succeeded by fever. These changes \nenfeebled me much. My appetite has failed consider- \nably. Though furnished with many varieties, I relish \nlittle. I am glad at every day's exit : and though \nweaker and more helpless,* I hope to be returned to \nyou with gladness, in much patience and full submis- \nsion to the will of our heavenly Father. \n\n\" I am wearied already in this little doing. Affec- \ntionately yours, \" James.\" \n\n'^ By my amanuensis, Mrs. R. I thought to tell you \nat greater length ; but, like all glorious manifestations \nof God to the soul, this beggars description. How- \never, let me say, that to-day I have had sweet thoughts \nof going to another world. Gladly, while alone and \nresting in my easy-chair, would I have bade earth fare- \nwell, and winged my way to the paradise of Grod. \nThe Lord said. Nay. I yet stay, and would patiently \nwait until my change come. I find it easier to dictate \nthan to write with mine own hand. \n\n\"James.\" \n\nWe have now given to our readers the last letter \nwhich Mr. Taylor was able to write with his own \nhand. Nor have we any thing dictated by himself to \nhis friends, with the exception of two short epistles, \nfrom which we present a few brief extracts : \n\n^The ground of that hope was doubtless the opinioii of ld« \npbysiciansi that with care he might reco^et. \n\n\n\n412 MB»OIR OP \n\n** Utdim Theo. Sem., FYb. 19, ISflBi. \n\n** Dear brother K. \n\n'< Since my letter, which was a week ago, I hare \ncontinued to fail. My nights are restless^-congfa in- \ncreased — external things losing their interest — faith \ngathers strength. \n\n\" I have often thought, though so weak, if the wea- \nther were suitable^ of setting out for the north to spend \nmy last days among the friends I love. It has occur- \nred to me as it never did before, that though grievous, \nIt gives parents pleasure to have their children, when \ndying, with them. Brothers, and sisters too, wouM \nrather than otherwise stand round the dying bed ol \none of their number. I should love to add all the com- \nfort in my power to those who have so often comfort- \ned me. \n\n\" To me it is apparent I shall not survive the \ncoming few months ; for, on the whole, my case it \nmore critical than it ever has been before. The phy- \nsicians begin to deal in may he^9, I have told you the \nsimple story of my feelings, that you may judge whe- \nther it be best that I attempt to come to you. \n\n\"20lh. — This day I have been more feeble than yes- \nterday, and the thought has naturally arisen, that this \nroom may prove the place of my exit to another world. \nBelieve that I am mercifully and most kindly handed \nalong down the hill of life, and 1 Iiope the last step \nwill be to the glory of God. \n\n\" Unless I should gain some strength, this will be \nthe last letter that I shall ever dictate. But you will \nhear of me through my kind friends, who are ever rea- \ndy to be my helpers. \n\n\" With increased ^ttecVvQW ^xi^ \\w^ v:v '^qwl all^ \n\n\n\n't- JAMES BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 413 \n\n<* Union Thio. Sem. March 3, 1829. \n** Dear ChriMtiau Friend, \n\n\" On my sick, and probably my dying bed, I fre- \nquently think of you. Your letter, which gave me \npleasure, came to hand in due time : answering it, in- \nstead of employing my own hand, I am under the ne« \ni cessity of writing by the hand of another. \nI \" For weeks past I have been sinking rapidly — I am \nnow almost helpless and worn out, and unless there \nbe a change soon, this 'mud-wall'd cottage' will pre- \nsently fall to the ground. I mention this to show dear \n\nbrother D , that if he e\\rer see me in the flesh, it \n\nmust be very soon. \n\n\" One of my brothers is on the way to me, to be a \ncomfort with my other friends, in these days of de- \ncline. You may rejoice with me, in that I rejoice in \nthe Lord always. The prospect of changing worlds \nis pleasant. The home of the Holy is inviting. \n\" Farewell. With much love, \n\n\" J. B. Taylor.\" \n\nThe last piece of writing which Mr. Taylor left in \nhis own hand, purports to be his will, and bears date \nthe 1st March, 1829, from which we extract the fol- \nlowing sentence : \n\n\" On my bed of sickness, Prince Edward. Symp- \ntoms of disease all tending to announce my departure. \n1 wish to say now that I am peaceful. The prospect \nof changing worlds is pleasant.'' \n\nAmong the numerous letters, expressing the grati- \ntude of those who had been blessed throu^k hU Iv \n\n35* \n\n\n\n414 HEMOlff OF \n\nbors, and the love and sympathy of Christian friendi, \nthere is one from the late Rev. Matthias Bruen, pas- \ntor of the Presbyterian church in Bleecker-street, New- \nYork, which breathes a spirit so sweet, that the reader \ncannot &il to be pleased with its insertion. \n\n\" New York, March 24» 1829. \n\n'^ The picture of you, my dear brother, has been vi- \nvidly present to the little company of your friends here, \nand we have thought of ourselves lingering like you \non the threshold of eternity. Ah ! it is all the thresh- \nold of eternity — and to believers it is even now eter- \nnal life. This is the record, that Grod hath given to us \neternal life ; and this life is in his Son. He lihat be- \niieveth the Son hath life. \n\n<< We have endeavored to pray for you. You have \nsome tender-hearted friends in our little church be- \nsides your dear relations, and are to them^ while you \nbreathe here, an object of ceaseless sympathy, aod \nwhile they breathe, of hope and love. \n\n'^ While I have been standing where you once stood, \nto pray and preach to my little charge, your image has \nbeen before my mind, and I thank God and take coa** \nrage for the support you have as yet had ; for your car \nlamities are nearly overpast, while ours are yet to be- \ngin. May the chief Shepherd, who gave his life for \nyours, fill you even now with joy unspeakable; \n\n\" In this season of calamity to us, I know not how \nto write to you, who are so soon perhaps to know the \ncertainty of the things in which the Spirit of Christ \nhas instructed you. You have a holy anointing for all \nthat you are to accomplish. If L were near enough, I \n/ should rather sit ax Yo\\iT fe«l mndhear^ or only^ look \n\n\n\nJUIE8 BRAllf ERD TAYLOR. 41$ \n\nOB. I cannot say a word to you — rather, dear brother, \nI would ask a parting prayer for me. I know that the \nthought of our lore is pleasant to you among earthly \nthings, if the bright view of the Redeemer does not \nbedim all that is created. I shall always cherish the \nfeeling of love to you, knowing that it will better pre- \n' pare me to finish my work, and to meet the Son of \nMan, idAo hath power on earth to forgive nna. Here \nis our consolation — sins like scarlet and crimson may \nbe forgiven — even we may walk in white ! \n\n\" Until my hope of your surviving this severe dis- \npensation is absolutely destroyed by the arrival of your \ngreat change, I look for something encouraging, as \nyour days are prolonged ; but we hope faintly. Into \nthe care of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ we \ncheerfully commit you. He loves you more than we \ncan. 1 that I could commit myself to him with \nlike ardor of confidence, that neither life nor death \nshall separate from his love. \n\n\" If you care to spend a moment's thought about any \nthing in the world, believe that a few persons herej aa \nwell as elsewhere, love you with a peculiar and lively \naffection, who would gladly kneel beside your bed and \nendeavor to alleviate your bodily sufferings, and who \n\\ sympathize with the other bosoms which have yielded \nyou such sweet repose in Virginia. Shall we not love \neven our Savior more, that so many are created \nanew in his image to love one'another ? May we live \nto love one another where they never die any more. \n\n''With a faithful affection, and » remembrance of \nyon. never to cease, your vnworthy brother in the hope \noftheQospeli \n\n\n\n416 MBMOIR OP \n\nAs the reader has already anticipated, Mr. Tayloi \ngradually, and from this time rapidly declined, onti] \nhis feeble body failed, and he went peacefully to his \nrest. On the 29th of March, 1829, in the 28th year ol \nhis age, at half past six o'clock, on the evening of the \nholy Sabbath, he left the world in full assurance of o \nblessed immortality. But we cannot give a better ac- \ncount of the closing scene, than in the language of \nthose whose privilege it was to see how this good \nman died. \n\n\" We have just witnessed the departure of a Chris> \ntian, of an eminent Christian, from this world of trial \nto that of everlasting rest — the Sabbath which in eter- \nnal in the heavens. \n\n\" For a considerable time during his sickness, his \ndebility was so great that he required unremitted at- \ntention day and night; yet they to whose lot it fell to \nnurse him in his last hours, so far from being wearied \nout by the labor, considered it a privilege to be near \nhim. And their testimony is, that his conversation \ngave them more enlarged ideas than they ever had he- \nfore of Christian experience, and a more distinct con- \nception of the power and preciousness of religious truth. \n\n\" From the time he came among us to the last mo- \nment of his life, his faith did not fail, nor even falter, \nnor did a cloud intercept his view of heaven. It would \nrequire a volume to record his various expressions of \nlove, joy, and triumph — and all the same, whether he \nhad hopes of recovery, or felt that he soon must die. \nThe full exercise of reason was granted to him until \nthe last. And when death came, although as fully \n\" ''ibie of it as an^ \"wVio uVX^Tx^^^ViKai^'^^t.VvU s^jirit \n\n\n\nJAUES BRAINEBD TAYLOR. 417 \n\nwas as calm as a ' summer evening,' and he remarked \nthat he ^ had endeavored to live in such a way, that \nwhen he came to die, he should have nothing to do \nbut to die.' About Aye minutes before his death he \nsaid : ' Farewell to you all, and farewell to this eartn.' \nThen, after a short time, addressing a beloved fnend \nwho was supporting him, he said with great emphasis: \n^ Strive ! strive P His friend asked him, ' Strive to do \nwhat V ' To enter into the kingdom of heaven? These \nwere his last words. His ruling passion was strong \nin death : to the very last moment he wished to preach \nthe Gospel. After uttering this solemn exhortation, he \ndrew a long breath — another and another — and then, \nwithout a struggle or a groan, his breast gradually \nsunk, and he gently fell asleep in Jesus ; and took an \nupward flight ' if ever soul ascended.' \" \n\nReader, may we die the death of the righteous, and \nmay our last end' be like his. Do you reply. Amen ? \nThen let us strive — strive to enter into the kingdom \nof heaven; '^ for many, I say unto you, shall seek to \nenter in, and shall not be able.\" \n\nIt may gratify the reader to see the letters which \ngive a history of the closing scene. To these shall be \nadded extracts from several communications to those \nwho collected the materials of which this little work \nis composed. In these communications there is suf- \nficient proof that the religious public is indebted for \nthis compilation, not so much to the partiality of ad- \nmiring relations, as to a just estimate of Mr. Taylor's \nchristian character, and to a desire to do good, and to \nmagnify the grace of God. \n\n\n\n418 MEMOIR OP \n\n' The first letter is from Dr. John Holt Rice to Ae \neldest brother of the subject of this memoir. \n\n** Union Seminaiy^ March 29, 1889. \n*< JIfy beloved Friend and Brother H ■ » \n\n\" It deFolves on me to perform a mournful ofiSce. 1 \nhave a brother whom I educated for the ministry, and \nI feel towards him as I do not towards any other hu- \nman being, a sort of mingling of parental and fraternal \naffection ; and I know you will feel, when I tell yoa \nthat dear James is gone. \n\n\" His sufferings for some time past have been very \nsevere — not so much from pain as from excessive de- \nbility ; this was so great, that, as you may have seen \nfrom my former communications, the wonder was he \ndid not die sooner. \n\n\" Apart from natural feelings of sorrow for the loss \nof one so beloved, and grief that the church should be \nbereaved of so precious a young minister, there is no- \nthing in the case of your dear brother but cause of joy \nand thanksgiving. During his whole sickness, and \namidst all the changes produced by disease in his spi- \nrits, he never had the shadow of a doubt in regard to \nhis acceptance ; his faith never failed, nor did his love \ngrow cold. In the midst of all his sickness the adversa- \nry was most mercifully restrained, and he enjoyed \nthe presence of his redeeming Lord. His affectionate \nheart, too, retained all its kindness, and he enjoyed to \nthe last the sympathetic attentions of those who mi- \nnistered to his wants. Dear man ! he won our love \nmost entirely. \n\n\" He was graciously permitted to exercise his rea- \nson to the very \\asl, ^ixvOi %\\\\o\\\\«^^\\v^\\^'a.'?. vW b«ut \n\n\n\nJABI£8 BRAINEBO TAYLOR. 419 \n\nof his mind by his dying speech : Strive ! strive ! to \nenter into the kingdom of heaven. \n\n\" How mysterious this event! Since it has appeared \nto me inevitable that one so prepared for the minis- \ntry, and so desirous to be useful as our dear brother \nwas, should die, the thought has often occurred to me \nthat there are services for very holy and devoted \nmen in a higher sphere, to which they are called, and \nwhere they do incomparably more for the glory of the \ndivine Redeemer, and are more useful than they could \npossibly be on earth : and while we are wondering \nthat they should be cut off, and disappoint all our hopes \nof their usefulness, they probably do more in a day, in \nheaven, than they could do in a lifetime in this world. \nThe Master had use for our brother gbove, and called \nfor him. We would have kept him here. I confess 1 \nnever have seen a young man whom I so much wished \nshould live. \n\n\" But why should he come here, far from home, to \ndie? On his passage to heaven, God sent him by this \nplace, that it might be seen here what a young minis- \nter ought to be, and how a Christian can suffer and \ndie. And perhaps you have thus been permitted to do \nmore for us than could be done with money. \n\n'^ Dear brother 1 I sympathize with you and your af- \nflicted relations. May the Lord Jesus Christ be with \nyour spirit. \n\n\" Most affectionately yours, John H. Rice.\" \n\nThe following letter is from Mrs. Rice to Mr. Tay* \ntor's mother : \n\n** VnUm l%eo. Sem. AprU 3, 1899. \n^Ul can in the least d^ee alle^iAXe xVa vscvqtw ^ \n\n\n\n420 MEMUtB OF \n\nthe dear moUier of my belored friend, most gladly ViL \n1 do it ; aad your afflicted son,* who does ns the h \nvor of remaining awhile with us, thinks a letter from \nme would he some comfort to you. If mingling my \nheart with yours, and feeling all a mother's beresTe \nment could lessen the weight of your grief, then would \nit indeed be lightened. \n\n^' I regret exceedingly that I did not every day set \ndown all that was interesting in relation to my dear \nhappy sufferer. But much, I trust, is engraved ob \nmy memory and on my heart, never to be foi^tten or \nneglected. I have indeed been most highly privileged, \nand am sincerely thankful to our Heavenly Father for \nsending to my care so precious a child of his. He \nseemed from the first to come as a blessing to me, and \nto raise my idea of holy living and of Christian enjoy- \nments. He ever seemed happy, joyful, triumphant, \nuntil disease wore down his animal spirits. But his \nfaith, hope, peace, never for a moment failed, but con- \ntinued perfect to the last. I inquired shortly before he \nleft us, the state of his mind, when he replied : * Per- \nfeet peace ; but too weak to think or talk.' When he \nfound he must die from you, he wept much, and griev- \ned at the thought of your sorrow. *Dear father! dear \nmother ! what would 1 not do to comfort yon,' he \nwould often say ; ' but my Heavenly Father is plea- \nsed to have it so, and I love to please him.' He did \nmdeed delight more in the love of Qod, and in doing \nhis will, than any one I have ever seen. He spoke of \nhis removal as if going on a foreign mission. Ha \nloved to serve his Lord wherever he appointed hinif \nand hoped to be engaged in the delightful work for \n\n. *il brother of the dec«iJM^^>DA^vi^^\\a^'«^BidiGikV^iM. \n\n\n\nJAMC8 BRAINERD TATLOA. 481 \n\never. He often spoke of rest for his poor body ; but \nhis happy spirit longed to serve and please his Hea- \nvenly Father perfectly. He often spoke of seeing yea \nall soon, and of welcoming you to a better virorld^ \nnever more to part. He is not, my dear madam, lost \neven to us : if we live as he did, we shaU again enjoy \nsweet intercourse with him. His words, ^ My friend \nfor eternity ^^ have made a deep impression upon my \nheart. O ! that his mantle may rest on me and on \nthis seminary. \n\n\" My grandmother lost a daughter in the state of \nKentucky. To some it was matter of surprise that \nshe bore the bereavement so calmly and cheerfully. \nShe remarked, 'Heaven is not as far from me as Ken- \ntucky. I shall soon join her. She had much to suf- \nfer in this world ; now she is perfectly happy ; and \nwhy should I grieve V \n\n\" My grandmother never expected to see her child \nagain had she lived, but you and your dear son did ex- \npect to meet again on earth, and he enjoyed much the \nthought of introducing us to each other. Bat his joys \nare now far above mortal conception. O had we but \na glimpse of his glory, we should adore and praise \n• the Lord, and not repine. He did not finish his \ncourse among strangers, thougji far from home. Many \nsaw, admired, and loved him, and to me he was in- \nexpressibly dear — I may say t9, for I know he still \nexists, glorious and happy. You are the blessed mo- \nther of a son safe in heaven. We rejoice that on his \nway there he called at the Seminary, and gave a new \nimpulse to holiness of life among us. He had a tedi- \noas, exhausting time of suffering, and I felt, for weeksi \n\n08 if going through the dark vaVLe^ VwV \\v\\\\!c^> ^\"^ \n\n3^ i.^,'^%.'i>««- \n\n\n\n4S3 JlBMoift OP \n\nthe light of God's eannMithi^il$^0Wt.M^ \nmd snstain him. Siieh a lorely i^it it nrely kDovi \non earth ; and'now ho is gone to a more genial eline. \nHe who DOTer em has ordered alb \n\n*' Yours, very afiebtioilialely, A. 8. R.\" \n\nOf the letters received hj Mr. Taylor's lektioai^ \nwhile coileeting the materials for this memoir, wo ia- \nsort the following from thb Rer. Frederic W.'SMb' \nkiss: . . ' . \n\n«DMr8ir, ^ \n\n\" Yours of the 84th Qltimo, endosing • letter Ima \nDr. Rice, on the death of your brother, niy very dsar \nfriend in Christ, is now before aie, moTiiig ea the \ndeep feelings of my heart, and awakenii^ sorts <lf lbs \ntenderest recollections of my life. I had seen the obi- \ntuary notice, and the just and very appropriate remarits \non his Christian character and peaceful de p arture; \nand after a short indulgence to the affeetionAte re- \nmembrance, while dwelling on the dear name, we re- \nsorted to his letters to hold converse with that sainted \nspirit, ^ who being dead yet speaketh.' These letters \nwill, according to your request, be transmitted by the * \nfirst friendly conveyance we can find. You will per- \nceive they are a little sullied by the hands of maBy \nreaders, but tbey will not be the less appreciated be- \ncause much used and often read. \n\n\" Our first interview with your brother waa in my \nhouse, presenting me a letter of introduction from a \nreverend friend in the vicinity. There is a feature, a \nvoice, a language, in a deep feeling Christian, wfalsk \nwe sometimes ihvnk \\* xoo ^V\\^«^v t» \\i« \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TATLOB. 4d3 \n\nThero was a religious sympathy then pervading oar \nhearts, which was ardently reciprocated on his part. \nWe felt as if we had found a dear christian brother, \nand our hearts burned within us, and we never for a \nmoment in our future acquaintance had reason to \nthink or feel differently. It was a season of deep \nfeeling among my people, and in my family too, when \nour intercourse commenced ; and in a very short time \nhe seemed as a son and a brother in the best bonds ; \nand thus we ever esteemed him. Frequently he visit- \ned us, and always he labored, and prayed, and exhort- \ned among my people while with us, and will never \nbe forgotten as one all devoted to the cause of lifting \nup souls to heaven. To how many he may have been \na sweet savor of life I know not ; but I do believe his \nheavenly example, ardent prayers, and impressive \nconversation, were blessed to the conversion of some \nvery near to me ; and who will one day, I believe, \nmeet him in heaven, and hail him as Christ's chosen \ninstrument of their eternal good. \n\n\" To spend and to be spent in the service of Christ \nand for the salvation of souls was his all in all. Of- \nten would he say, ' None but Christ : all for Christ.' \n\n^'He died as he lived, in the triumphs of that faith \nwhich could say, *Lord, when, where, and how thou \nwilt.' * Thy holy will, and thy whole will be done.' \nWe lose the benefit of his life, but let us not lose the \nbenefit of his death. His name is embalmed in the \nmemory of many surviving friends ; and while the re- \nnaembrance is precious, may we learn to be followers \nof him who through faith and patience inherits the \npromises. \n\n\n\n484 BOM oiR or \n\n'^With sympathy and reciprocated prayen, yonr \n\nfriend and servant, \n\n\" Frbderic W. Hotchkiss.\" \n\nAnother minister of Christ, in forwarding some let- \nters which he had received from Mr. Taylor, said: \"I \nam rejoiced that you think of collecting his remains. \nIt must do good — it cannot be otherwise.\" A third \nwrites : \" I am much pleased that a Memoir of James \nis to be written. I think it will be instrumental of \ngreat good. I never was acquainted with one of whose \npiety I had a more exalted opinion.\" A fourth says: \n''Your excellent brother came to my house when there \nwas a powerful religious excitement among my peo- \nple, and spent two weeks in animating professed \nChristians to greater efforts, and more humble and \nfervent prayer that they might grow in grace, and \nmake greater attainments in the knowledge of our \nLord Jesus Christ ; and in laboring for the conversion \nof sinners. I have no doubt he will find some among \nmy people who will Jbe his joy and crown of rejoicing \nthroughout eternity : and I am happy in the belief that \nsome of my church will wear a brighter crown of \nglory than they would have done, if your brother had \nnever come among them. I will only add, that we all \nloved and esteemed him as a faithful brother in Christ.\" \n\nAnother pious and devoted friend, who was long \nand intimately acquainted with the departed saint, \nwrote : \" I would beg leave to observe, that I think \nthe lives of but few, if faithfully recorded, are calcu- \nlated, on the whole, to do much good to the religious \nworld ; though they may have some valuable traits, \nand it may be vei^ ^;ca\\\\^^vcy^ to their surviving \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 4d5 \n\nfriends, yet the multiplication of such works has a ten- \ndency to weaken the force of those that are truly ex- \ncellent. I would not therefore encourage the publica* \ntion of the memoirs of any departed friend, unless his \nlife had been very uncommon and calculated to ele- \nvate the standard of piety and usefulness. ThcU of \nour dear departed friend^ I think, was exactly of \nthis kind,^^ \n\nWe do not desire to multiply these testimonies to a \nwearisome length, and shall therefore conclude vrith \nshort extracts from three others, from the most respect- \nable sources. The first is a letter from a man who \nhad enjoyed Mr. Taylor's society often, and his friend- \nship for several years, and had as ample opportu- \nnity to know him thoroughly as most of those who \nhave given their testimony concerning him : \n\n\" It will give my wife and myself sincere pleasure \nto contribute, in any way we can, towards the intend- \ned Memoir, to render it as full and interesting as it \nshould be. \n\n'* To place his character before the reader in all its \nvariety of excellence, we think, will.be no easy mat- \nter. To have any thing like a just impression of him \nds he really was in life, would require that intimate \nknowledge of him which we were privileged to enjoy \nWe can say that we never met with such sweetness \nof disposition, such a noble contempt of earthly things, \nsuch heavenlyHoiindedness, such entbe devotion of \nthe whole being to his Qod and Savior, such earnest \ndesire to promote his Master's cause, in bringing all \nwithin the sphere of his influence to the knowledge \nof the troth; and, united with all lUiA^^^^Tai «m^ \n\n36* \n\n\n\n426 MEMOIR or \n\nmanners of such peculiar loveliness and grace, and a \nbeauty and consistency of character, such as, to our \nmind, made him a more perfect model than we had \never known. \n\n\" We believe there are those here, as well as in \nevery place where he sojourned on earth, that feel they \nare under obligations to him which can never cease \nto bind them.\" \n\nThe second is from a clergyman, in which we find \nthis passage : \" James B. Taylor labored with me five \nor six weeks, during a revival in T , in which be- \ntween twenty and thirty souls were hopefully convert- \ned. During that time I was led to observe the man- \nner and spirit of his conversation with young people \non religious subjects. How winning and affectionate ! \nHe could speak of the fearful looking for of judgment \nand fiery indignation,, without creating any antipathy \nto himself. Sinners were won by his sweet voice \nand christian courtesy whilst they trembled for their \nsouls and felt the necessity of repentance. His words \nwere all for his divine Master. I never knew him \ntrifle ; he allowed himself indeed no relaxation whilst \nhere. He labored till he was obliged, through fatigue \nand weakness, to desist ; and then his only wish was \nto recruit, that he might renew his efforts in the ser- - \nvice of his Redeemer. Could ministers be found as \nunremitting and ardent as he was, few, where the Gros- \npel is preached, would be left without convictions at \nleast, if not hopefully converted, through such instru- \nmentality.\" \n\nThe last is from the Rev. Dr. Miller, of the Theo- \niogical Seminary at Punceton. \"I do hope,\" says^ \nDr. M, \"that the Memorial ^^ V^\\%\\«\\wt\\ ^\\Awi.^ \n\n\n\nlAMEa BBAIKERD TAVLOE. 4S7 \n\n\n\ncellent youth which you propose la have erected, will \nbe long a useful moQument for cBudidaies foe the holy \nmiaiatry. IfhU heavenly spirit should be held forth \nas it ought to be, it cannot fail lo benefit the sons of \nthe church, who ate looking forward to thai sacred \n\n\" 1 hare a growing conviction that we need nothing \nin our rising miniairy more than deep scriptural spiri- \ntuality. If we had larger measures of that ardent \nihirst for the eternal welfare of our fellow-men, ■ \nmore inextinguishable desire to win souls to Christ, \nsuch as our devoted brother had, it would be a pledge \nof brighter days for our American Zioa.\" \n\n\n\nCONCLUSION. \n\nIn bringing to a close this woric, valuable to thii \ncompiler at least, it may be useful briefly to surrey \nthe chuacter of Mr. Taylor in the relations which \nhe sustained, and in the several situations in which ht \nwas placed by the providence of God, that the force \nof his example maybe concenlraled, audita imprev \nsions received by those who may sustain the like re- \nlations and be in pursuit of the same objects. \n\n1. Then let him be contemplated as a Christun , \nand in this contemplation let it be recollected, that \nv«ry early after bis coDversiou he adopted the fesolo- \nlion to become an uncommon Chiiititn. \n\nThis resolution, deliberately formed, and with full \npersuasion of ite praeticability, teems to hare been \nticted on with remarkable conaiatency and peraevei- \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMiM and with ilwt aMitioit>r dwMeter/^w^^ \nwiiwh nothiag^of law— mean iiTtor be a^MAipfisM. \nAnd in order to iti fidfillment, tebeiodc himself to tbe \nBible with the dodUtf ^ a little child, aad witk \nstrong eoafidenee in the fhiihfiilneM of God. Belief* \ning that '^the liCeof Godin the tool of man\" haa its \ninfancy and its growth to matnrtCy^i ancl thai what- \never attainments may hare been made^ the ^gnaam of \nGod and the fdhiess <tf graee that is in Christ Jtsns \n.warrant the expectation of still hf^ierntcahinieaiii|— \nMr. Taylor, with the most cobottnendable difigsaee, \nused the means by which aloneeneh espeemtioas can \nbe realized. With constancy lie searched fl^^ ttn^ \ntores— not for subjects of specnlatidn^-notaa ia mere \nintellectual exerdse— but with a strong iihaiie to as- \ncertain what i&fibclioas ought to-be' eheiishedy and \nwhat duties performed. In the Bible, as iaa mirroi^ \nhe looked at himself; and in the light of the Bible- he \ncontemplated every object that claiined his atteatioa \nor solicited his affections. He was indeed a Bible \nChristian. Perhaps no one ever more implicitly sub- \njected his whole being to the inspired word. \n\nRegarding the |Hromises as sure, he desired and \nsought with irrepressible ardor those divine communi- \ncations which the Lord Jesus vouehsaies to his fol- \nlowers in measures prqportioaed to the strength ef \ntheir faith, the fervor of their prayersjand their Mth- \nfulness in duty. He believed it to he the privil^ of \nthe saints to Uve in the li§^t of the divine eoonte- \nnance. And whenever, through inadvertenee, er the \nrising of sinful thoughts, or the movemoit of tnego- \nlar desires, or the neglect of duty, a cloud can \nbU soul, he ceased xiowo W\\sSi^ViiaMA\\£^tA \n\n\n\nJiLMES BRAINEBD TA.YLOR. 429 \n\nin secret places, to wrestle, and even agonize in \nprayer, until the joy of God's salvation was restored \nand the comforts of the Holy Ghost were again afford- \ned. And when in uninterrupted communion with \nGod, he did not, as is too often the case, rest satisiied, \nbut his neart still panted for more grace, more light, \nand faith, and love — more of every thing that might \nelevate his piety and increase his moral power. Nor \ndid Mr. Taylor's religion expend itself in the raptures \nof devotion or in the delights of heavenly contempla- \ntion. Its sweet savor was manifested in all the rela- \ntions he sustained. \n\nPerhaps few persons have ever discovered more of \nfilial piety or fraternal love. And while these affec- \ntions flowed out in all his correspondence, and in all \nhis intercourse with his family, and in all respects \nwere tempered and sweetened by his religion, yet, ve- \nneration for his parents and respect for the senior mem- \nbers of the household never for a moment restrained \nhim from urging upon them the paramount claims of \nhis Master, but always in a manner most earnest, ten- \nder, and respectful. \n\nNor did he content himself with efforts to augment \nthe piety of those to whom he was bound by the ties \nof nature. In all his intercourse with the saints, and \nin his voluminous correspondence with Christian \nfriends, his constant aim was, either by testifying of \nthe grace of Grod to himself, or by direct exhortations \nto stimulate them also to becoine uncommon Chris- \ntians. \" Set your standard high,\" was his frequent \nenarge — '^ There remains yet very much land to be \npossessed.\" \n\nThe abiding conviction upon Mr. Tft.'^lot'^ xaa?^* \n\n\n\n480 \n\n\n\n(and eerttinlf it aeeohM wM tfnllb,) wmij' Atf \nCfariitiiDB genodlf litt hw befaur their {ffivifafii. \nAni to thif eaue 1m ftttrihnted-iimdi of tlMir iMfr \ncieney in promoting the inteietti of tbe RedooMi^ \n\nkingdom. \n\nIt is indeed « lementition, end ehtllbe Ssdm knee- \ntation, that the chnreh i* pntslyted'fiir tiie want of \nthat Tigor of life, whieh ii witUa the iwudi of ell in \nwhom the principle of Titality bet Been impleiited lif \nthe Holy Qhost. This eTil Mr. Teykr eaweftd felt ; \nand while he leaolTed thiit, by the gieee of Qo^ it \nshould nt>t eiiit in hit own eeae, egejnet it be teflni \nand wrote, prayed end utedj and ttJDfwitbdec aooM \nencouraging suceese. \n\nHis Christian chemeter was a beaatiftil wboie not \nindeed ahsolately perfeet-*to this he made noptem- \ntions— yet as near the fair proportions in winch it is \ndrawn in the word of God as can almost erer be \nfound in this imperfect state. And in thia respect his \nexample is most worthy of imitation. \n\nIt is indeed melancholy to obsenre how frequently \nthe fair form of Christianity appears in an aspect so \nforbidding as rather to repel than allure the multitude, \nwho have no knowledge of her but what they den? e \nfrom the spirit, conversation, and conduct of her pro- \nfessed friends. As exhibited by some, she appeers in \nthe form of a cold and heartless orthodoxy, with a \nhead filled with notions which have no influence in \nrefining the afiecticms or regulating the pmetice. In \nothers, with an eye of fire and a tongue sharpened \nwith bitter words, ready to denounce all who are not \nactuated by the same burning zeal — a zeal jonmiti^- \nled by the meekneM oIl Vi«a^%^V| ^wVsAma. la. otben \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 431 \n\nagain, she appears all deformed with passion-^all \necstasy in the religious assembly — all tenderness in \nthe hour of excitement — but in the world, morose, \nsensoriouS) proud, selfish, and dogmatical. \n\nSuch was not the religion of James B. Taylor. \nHis faith worked by love, purified the heart, and \novercame the world. His was the wisdom that comes \nfrom above — first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and \neasy to be entreated ; full of mercy and good fruits, \nwithout partiality and without hypocrisy ; and ever \nbrought ibrth the fruits of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, \nlong-sufiiering, gentleness, goodness, fidelity, meek- \nness, temperance. \n\nBut there were some traits in this lovely character \nwhich ought to be noticed with more distinctness, \nnot only because of their beauty, but because there is \na deplorable deficiency in most of those who bear the \nname of Christ, and in some measure possess the \nmind that was in him. These were spirituality and \nhumility : the latter resulting, as it always does in \nman sanctified but in part, from the former. \"His \nspirituality,\" says Dr. M., in a letter from which an \nextract has been already made, \" was so uniform, that \nwe had only, as it were, one face, and that of intense \nbrightness, to behold.\" Spirituality is the habit of a \nsoul illuminated by the truth, and sanctified, throug-h \nthat truth, by the Spirit of God. Such an one employs \nhis thoughts and exercises his affections with facility \nand with lively interest on spiritual objects. He sets \nthe Lord always before him, apprehends the law of \nGod in its cognizance of the inner man, and feels and \nacts under a sense of its obligations. Jesus Christ is \npresent by the Spirit with his heart, is aeea ivi h.\\jk \n\n\n\nbMnty, n W h inteed to in his aulLoriiy, and in alM» \ntrngt^ ftrnlvatioD, and loved as \" the cliiefesi among \nten' tbcMMDd.\" \n\nNo cue eta lemd the letter!) and jourDal of James B. \nTaykir,'' mild DM perceire ihat spiritual thiols wete \nthe reiy eleiMTtt of his soul ; — of them he ilioughi, \nandwiota^ and tilhtd ; and, in all situations, he acteil \nin iflfertDee to tbAa and under their influence. \n\nOne efiect Qf tlua ^raoioiis habit ol' mind was bn- \ninility,~withoDt wUeh dtwe taa be do geaoiiw nSi^Bh. \nJenuCbnstim meek 'Mid lowlf in heart, uid iMtf* \neui faaTe lecmed of Um iriltiimf imbitnag ihW ' \nmeasDie of thisezeellent grwie. Withratlt thannaf \nbe ardor in raligim; aoft tfaen wiU bb eeM', CBted'oot, \nif not heard, the err^^ Come^ eee my xtel for &■ |iOii \nof hostt.\" ' And in -Ub da j- oT'i^eilM^tat, whM «r«- \nry ihiog; must be done with atrong feeling and Tigor- \noiu action, it is painfol to obscrre how mtieh, tbal \ncommenda itself to the spirit of the age, is either sadlf \ndeficient, or wholl)' destitnte of the brightest glory of \nthe religion of a sinner eared hj grace. \n\nHe is an htmble maa who fonns • just eslimete at \nhis own eharacler, as he weighs himself in the ba- \nlance of the sanetuBTf, and feels aright the force of \nhis own judgment of himself. He coiii|)ares kimaeli^ \nnot with those aronnd faim, whom he may think or see \nto be less perfect than hiniself,bntwith thelawof God, \nand with the holy example of Jesns, which is the \nlaw practically eihtbited for the imitation of hia fol- \n\nThat James B. Taylor was diatingDished by bia hv \nraility cannot be questioned. Living as be did, erwy \nSay, ia, the ptemiM o£ <iQ^i -ndbM4 mA faU ; wid \n\n\n\nJAUES BBAINEitD TAVLOR. 433 \n\nlooking nt hhnself habitually, in the light of God's \ntruth and holioess, he saw, as in a poHshed mirror, the \ndefects in his own cbarncter, and took cheerlully hia \nplace in tjie dusi. At those seasons when be enjoyed \nmost of the divine presence, and the brightest mani- \nfestations of the glory of God, we always find him \ntaking the lowest place, and like Job, saying, \" I have \nheard ol'lheeby the beating of the ear; but now mine \neye seelb thee : wherefore I abhor myself, and re- \npent in dust and ashes.\" But not only did his humility \nshow itself in his communion with Qod, but in his \nintercourse with men. He was ever leady to render \nhonor to whom honor is due, so that when those of \nage and experience would interpose to temper his ar- \ndor and to regulate his course, he would respectfully \nand meekly hear, and seriously consider; and if their \ncounsel comtnended itself to his understanding and \nhis conscience, be would cheerfully yield, and that too, \nwhen compliance was lashed with the most painful \nself-denial : and if, in the impetuosity of bis feelings, \nhe had taken his course, he would, on conviction of \nhis mistake, promptly retrace his steps with ingenuous \nconfession of his error. Nor did be, as far as appears, \never treat any one with that contempt or even disre- \nspect which is the oflspring of pride. His sense of \npropriety and bis humility seemed ever to restrain him \nfrom rudely denouncing those whose zeal and devoted- \nness were apparently less than his own. \n\nVery nearly allied to humility u gentleness ; a Chris- \ntian grace, an ornament, which gives softness and \nlovelinesa to all the reit. In tbic our dear Christian \nbrother so excelled, that noDe feared him, none wei-e \nrepelled from bim, and he found eaiv ac««u to t.l&« \n37 VB.^»,\\«- \n\n\n\n434 MEMOIR OF \n\nhearts even of those who would otherwise avdid his \ncompany from hatred to his holiness. \n\nThe attentive reader has doubtless already observed \nthat the great means by which Mr. Taylor made such \ndistinguished attainments in piety, were the Bible, as \nnoticed before, and the throne of grace. He was re- \nmarkably a man of prayer. In secret devotions he \nhad his consecrated place and his fixed time ; nor \nwould he allow any thing to interfere with this arrange- \nment. And as he did himself, so he exhorted others to \ndo: ^^ Have a fixed place and time for deyotion.\" \n\n2. Let us contemplate this eminent saint in his \nCONDUCT AS A 8T0DENT ; and in this, perhaps, as much as \nin any other respect, he has left an instructive example. \n\nToo often the complaint has been made — and ofien- \ner the efiect has been seen and lamented — that an aca- \ndemical collegiate life has damped the ardor of piety, \nor greatly diminished its power. Indeed the impres- \nsion has been deep and disastrous, that this is the \nnecessary effect of a course of study in our public \nliterary institutions. Such have been the facts, as tu \ncreate a prejudice in many pious minds against a col- \nlege education. The incorrectness of this impression, \ncapable, a priori, of being proved, has been practically \ndemonstrated by the Christian student whose course \nwe are reviewing. \n\nMr. Taylor, aware of the existence and of the bad \neflects of this notion, entered upon his course of studies \nwith his resolution fixed and his rules adopted; by a \nstrict adherence to which he was efiectually secured \nagainst the influence of that esprit du corps, and those \nunholy associations, which have so often and so sadly \n'mpaired the sticnglK oC ^\\et^ ia those who had gone \n\n\n\nUpon enieiing college, he resolved lo perform his \nduties ia tbe fotlowing order: \n\n1. Take care of the »ul. \nS. Take care of the bodf. \n3. Take care of hi> itudici. \n\nBy obserriag this order — giiiag to reading the Bi ble \nand prayer a due portion of lime, and always seeking \nunlit he enjoyed communion with heaven, he ever kepi \nalive the Same of love ; so that, at the close of his col- \nlegiate course of studies, lie said to a frieod, \" I have, \nwhile in college, enjoyed much of the presence of Qod. \nThe years 1 have spent in Nassau Hall will long be \nremembered as sweet seasons of communioa with tbe \nHoly Ghost, aiid of special manifestations of the love \nof God.\" \n\nAnd as to the second rule, his conduct was wise \nand exemplary. Too often, young men, ardent in their \nthirst for knowledge, or in haste to get into the field \nof action, or oppressed with the languor consequent \nupon mental labor and sedentary life, so neglect that \nregular exercise which is essential to health, that they \ncome out unfit for service, or go down to an early \ngrave. \n\nOn this interesting topic it is obvious to remark, that \nman is a compound being — that he is made up of an \n. animal, intellectual, and moralnature, neither of which \ncan be neglected with impunity. In all these respects \nfood and exercise must he supplied regularly, and iu \nproper kind and measure, or a weak and sickly habit \nwill be induced, destructive both of happiness and \nusefulness. \n\nWith this natural constitution, and tbe sure con- \nsequences of neglecliug it full in riew, i» iiwA^'a'** \n\n\n\n436 MEMOIR OF \n\niy astonishing that in so few of our literary iostitatioiis \nprovision is made for thai physical education so essen- \ntial to the wel] being of the animal nature ? And is \nii not more surprising still, that men professing to be \nphilosophers should endeavor to exclude from our \nschools that moral training — that religious culture, \nwithout which no man will ever act well his part io \nthose relations for which education is designed to pre- \npare him ? \n\nIt is true, that, in the inscrutable providence of God \nMr. Taylor's health began to fail just after the com- \npletion of his college education, so that he was not \npermitted to enjoy the high satisfaction which he so \nardently desired in preaching the Gospel. But still it \nis worthy to be remembered, that to the end of the \ncourse he enjoyed good health. Nor did his studies \nsufiTer at all by a rigid adherence to his rules. \n\n3. But as a candidate for the ministry, his conduct, \nthough not pretended to be perfect, is above all praise. \n\nFor religion's sake ; for the sake of the holy name by \nwhich he was called ; for the joy of the Lord which \nwas his strength ; he sought for and made great attain- \nments in the divine life : but never did he seem to lose \nsight of the influence which his piety would have upon \nhis ministerial character and usefulness. To be very \n\" holy and wise \" was the burden of his prayers. Holy \nand wise, that he might win souls to Jesus Christ, in \nall his ways please the Lord, and be fully prepared for \nthe purity and blessedness of heaven. \n\nNo one could more fully recognize the dependence of \nman upon the grace of God thai, did Mr. Taylor. In his \nprayers, letters, diary, and conversation, he acknow- \nledged the necesaVt^j o^ ^Vi^ ^^\\\\IC% iofl-uences. He \n\n\n\nJAMES BRAINERD TAYLOR. 437 \n\nnot only believed, but gloried in the doctrine of divine \nsovereignty ; yet he never once entertained the perni- \ncious notion that these truths could either excuse inac- \ntivity, or lessen responsibility, or diminish the impor- \ntance of employing means adapted to the end to be \naccomplished in the Gospel economy. God has indeed \nmost wisely iited the means to the end, both in the \nkingdom of nature and that of grace, leaving in botb \nample scope for the exercise of all the skill and dili- \ngence that man can use to bring to pass his benevo- \nlent and gracious purposes. \n\n' Under the cherished impression of this divine ar- \nrangement, Mr. Taylor seemed constantly to live-— \nand, with the conviction that holiness in the ministry \nafforded the best ground of hope, under God, of suc- \ncess, he with all earnestness, and perseverance, and \nself-denial, sought to become, and did become, emi- \nnently holy. Would to God that all who bear the \nsacred office were like-minded — that all who aspire to \nthis office could be persuaded to walk as James B. \nTaylor walked, with God. \n\nNext to personal holiness, Mr. Taylor desired to be \n\" mighty in the Scriptures,\" not only that he might be \nsanctified through the truth, but that he might draw \nthence things new and old, giving to every one a por- \ntion suited to his condition. \"O to be mighty in the \nScriptures,\" was his frequent petition at the throne of \ngrace. And to this end he submitted himself to the \nusual course of mental diseipliae. He desired Aot lite- \nrary fame, nor the honor that comes from mea. It \nwas the Bible he was to expound — ^its doctrines he \nwas to preach — its precepts to inculcate— the whole \ncounsel of God, as therein revealed^ he \"ft^.^ xs^ ^ \n\n37* \n\n\n\n438 MEMOIR OP \n\ndare. And therefore, to a right understaudiog of the \nBible he resolutely determined to devote all his attain- \nments. And although, in the ardcr of his zeal to \nenter upon the great work for which he longed 90 ear- \nnestly, he wavered for a little season, as to the neces- \nsity of all that culture which in most cases is wisely \nrequired ; yet, having corrected this error of judgment, \nno man more deeply felt the importance of fall \"pre- \nparation.\" For this he hoth labored industriously and \n]>rayed most earnestly. \n\nIn addition to Mr. Taylor's persevering and suc- \ncessful efforts to increase in piety and in knowledge \nof the word of God, he deserves to be remembered and \nimitated in his intercourse with his fellow-men. Al- \nways affable and obliging — noted for a deportment, \nthe result of enlarged and active benevolence ; exceed- \ningly social in his feelings, and polite and graceful in \nhis manners ; yet he conscientiously avoided an intima- \ncy with those whose society neither promised benefit, \nnor afforded opportunities of usefulness ; but with the \nsaints, the excellent of the earth, was his delight ; and \nthe more spiritual any one appeared to be, the more did \nhe seek and enjoy communion with him. And here \nit mattered nothing with Mr. Taylor what was the \ncondition or the color of the saint. In every one who \nshowed the heart of a true disciple he recognized a bro- \nther or sister, and rejoiced to be an instrument in minis- \ntering to the edification and consolation of all those \nwho loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity. To this \nend he visited the sick — conversed with professors — \nwrote letters — held meetings for exhortation and pray- \ner, and used all the means he could employ to build \nup the kingdom of Chi\\«i va xVv^ V^wXaoC Vv% ^ubi*»ct». \n\n\n\nJUI£S BBAINEBD TATLOK. HSO \n\nAnd while Mr. Taylor thus labored and prayed to \npromote growth in grace in the church, the burden of \nhia prayers and labofB was far the converrion oj \n»oult. He had consecrated himself to the service of \nthe Lord, the glory of his nenie, and the advance- \nment of his cause. And not only in his intercourse \nand correspondence with his fellow-men did he endea- \nvor to strengthen the interests of piety in those who \nwere under its inQuence, but by all means, if possible, \nto gain some from the ranks of the enemy. Actuated \nby this zeal for the divine glory, and compassion fot \nperishing sinners, be sought and seized every opportu- \nnity to beseech men, in Christ's stead, to be recon- \nciled to God. This he did in his private intercourse — \nin the family circle ; and, with the sanction of pastors \nand otber ministers, in many churches, and with un- \ncommon acceptance and success. Bo ihat while pursu- \ning his studies, he was made the instrument of bring- \ning, perhaps, more persons lo the knowledge of thtf \ntruth, as it is in Jesus, than others have done in the min- \nistrations of many years. During his sickness many \nletters came to him, expressive of the most devoted \nattachment, and reminding him of the blessing which \nhad, in several places, attended his labors of love. \nHis object was not wealth nor fame, but souls — souls; \nhis constant cry was, \"Give me souls!\" \n\nThere is one further particular which, it has occur- \nred to us, may be introduced with some advantage to \n«tudent3 of theology. Many of Mr. Taylor's correspon- \nJenta were young females — and in his labors hemnst \noften have come in contact with persons of this de- \n«cription calculated to awaken tender emotions; yet !■ \n•It bis letters, and in all his diary, there is no avidanm \n\n\n\n440 MEMOIR or \n\nthat lie ever approached that entangling, and often em- \nbarrassing alliance, which so often impedes the pro- \ngress of students, and too frequently presses as an in- \ncubus upon all their after-life and labors. \n\nOn the contrary, we find in his diary a passage \nalready quoted, which shall here be cited again : \" Not \nknowing what the Lord has for me to do, I am kept \nfrom what, perhaps, would be as pleasant to me as to \nanother; and at which some have been led to wonder. \nSome may think me stoically indifferent to the con- \nnubial state : but this restrains me from taking any \nsteps in that matter — I fear to act prematurely. When \nit is clearly one's duty to seek such a connection, will \nnot a prudent wife come from the Lord ? I wish \nthat mmjf^e?^^ would see well to it, that they obtain in \ntheir companions an increase of power to help on with \ntheir work.\" \n\nThe importance of the marriage relation, as a source \nof happiness or misery, is perfectly obvious. But this \nmatter, as it bears upon the character and usefulness of \na minister of the Gospel, is beyond all computation. \nNone who has not had experience, or made observa- \ntion on this subject, can tell how much a minister's \nstanding may be affected, how much his work may be \npromoted or hindered, by the character and deportment \nof his wife. \n\nHow inconsiderate I how unwise the conduct of \nmany young men, and young ministers perhaps ytU \npursuing their preparatory studies, who have no borne \nnor field of labor — often no patrimony ; who '* know \nnot what the Lord has for them to do ;\" who hare not \nfinished their theological course. Let those who \naspire to this high caUin^ learn wisdom from the lolly \n\n\n\n\nLOR. 441 \n\nof inany of their bTeloren who have gone before them, \nand \" fear to act prematurely?' \n\nWe closie by quoting from the obituary notice pab- \nlished soon after his decease,-i-whai, in Eubataoce, has \nbeen said before; \n\n\" Mr. Taylor was a young man admirably fitted to \nbe useful in the ministry. To a line person, a pleasant \ncountenance, expressive of the benevolence of his sou], \na sweet, yet powerful voice, and a cultivated mind, \nbe added piety, humility, zeal, and devoiedn^ss to his \nprofession, such as are rarely ever observed united in \none individual. \n\n\" How mysterious ! thai in the present urgent wants \nof the church, one so gifted and qualified should be \ncut down just after he became ready to enter the pul- \npit. But perhaps he was called for to perform higher \nservices for his Master in the church triumphant than \ncan be rendered by mortal man in this militant slate. \nAnd we shall see hereafter, that all things io regard \nto him were ordered well by that Lord and Savior \nto whom he had consecrated himself in soul, bod/ \nand spirit, for time and eternity.\" Amen. \n\n\n\nSTANFORD UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES ■ \nSTANFORD AUXILIARY LIBRARY ^ \nSTANFORD, CALIFORNIA 94305-6004 \n|650) 723-9201 \n\n\n\n\n\n\njll.s \n\n\n\nAll books ore subject to \nDATE DUE \n\n\n\nanFofd.edu \n\n\n\n3II. \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/practicalthought00nev.txt",
    "content": "LIBEAEY \n\n^biological £eminarg, \n\n\n\nPRINCETON, N. J. \n:ion . \n\n\n\nNo. Case, \nNo. Shelf ^ \nNo. Book, \n\n\n\n\n- \n\n\n\n\n/077¥ \n\n\n\n\n\nS.F.S.Mv,, P.Xut \n\n\n\n\n\"True.it separates, but it zinitcw also. It takes ^^s I knew: them \nmany we love Imt it takes as to as many we love \" Fiu?e 221. \n\n\n\n'NIK \n\n^(£bmx§clitiit \n\n\n\ntmmm msBJMm \n\n\n\n'¥([)) Lt, an. \n\n\n\ny* \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\ns///s ■///>/// f ia& c ?a*f/%>. \n\n\n\n©■a^^^ss^Aa. \n\n\n\n*r m @ w <©■ ^s \n\n\n\nY REV. WILLIAM NEVINS, D . D \n\nLate Pastor of a Church in Baltimore. \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED fiY THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY \n\n150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. \n\n\n\nD. Famhuw, Printer. \n\n\n\nEntered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836, by \nRufds L. Nevins, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court \nof the Southern District of New-York. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nISo. Page. \n\n1. Do you Pray in Secret 1 ----- 7 \n\n2. Do you Pray in your Family \"? ... 13 \n\n3. I must Pray more, - - - - - - 18 \n\n4. I must Pray differently, ----- 24 \n\n5. Why Prayer is not heard, ----- 30 \n\n6. I must Praise more, 38 \n\n7. Do you remember Christ 1 - - - 42 \n\n8. I don't like Professions, ----- 48 \n\n9. Are you a Sabbath School Teacher 1 - - 53 \n\n10. Do you attend the Monthly Concert 1 61 \n\n11. Why all Christians should attend the Monthly \n\nConcert, 66 \n\n12. Will any Christian be absent from the next \n\nMonthly Concert? 71 \n\n13. How came it to pass 1 74 \n\n14. Why the World is not Converted 1 78 \n\n15. The Conversion of the Church, 84 \n\n16. Inquiring Saints, 89 \n\n17. Do you pay for a Religious Newspaper 1 - - 92 \n\n18. Detached Thoughts, 95 \n\n19. The late Mr. Wirt, 99 \n\n20. Traveling on the Sabbath, 104 \n\n21. Apologies for Travelling on the Sabbath, - - 111 \n\n22. I have done giving, 118 \n\n23. I will give liberally, ... - - 121 \n\n24. The calls are so many, 125 \n\n25. I can't afford it, 129 \n\n26. An example of Liberality, - - - - 134 \n\n27. Another example of Liberality, - 140 \n\n28. More, about Liberality, 144 \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nJVo. \n\n29. A Tract Effort, - \n\n30. Why the World should have the Bible, \n\n31. Mrs. M. L. Nevins, ... \n\n32. What strange beings we are, \n\n33. What very strange beings we are, \n\n34. Should it be according to thy mind 1 \n\n35. How inconsistent we are, \n\n36. The Pity of the Lord, \n\n37. Five Negatives, - \n\n38. How to dispose of care, - \n\n39. Do you enjoy Religion? \n\n40. Lovest thou me 1 \n\n41. The light of the World, \n\n42. The Salt of the Earth, \n\n43. The Distance of Death, \n\n44. Why so loth to die 1 \n\n45. Heaven's Attractions, - \n\n46. The Heavenly Recognition, \n\n\n\nPage \n149 \n153 \n157 \n161 \n166 \n170 \n175 \n179 \n185 \n187 \n192 \n198 \n203 \n209 \n213 \n218 \n225 \n229 \n\n\n\nThe following pages consist of miscellaneous articles \npublished by the lamented author within the year 1834 and \nthe months of January and February, 1835, chiefly in the \nNew- York Observer, with the signature \" M. S.\" the finals \nof his name. They were written after the insidious disease \nby which God was pleased to transplant him to a higher \nsphere of labor had so affected his voice as in a great de- \ngree to disable him from his stated public ministrations. \nThis discipline was evidently blessed in his rapid sanctifi- \ncation ; his obtaining uncommonly clear views of truth and \nduty ; and his ardent desire to do something to rouse Chris- \ntians to greater attainments in personal holiness, and through \ntheir efforts and prayers to bless the world. His mind acted \nwith unwonted vigor ; he panted to speak to multitudes for \nGod and eternity, and adopted the only means then remain- \ning to him — his pen. When about two-thirds of the articles \nwere written, he was called suddenly to part with his be- \nloved wife; and the hallowed influence of the affliction is \nmost apparent in the subsequent articles, the last of which, \n\" Heaven's Attractions,\" with the additional fragment, \nseemed almost prophetic of the event which was soon to \nfollow. \n\nIt was hoped that the substance of these articles might be \nembodied in a volume under the author's own supervision ; \nbut his strength was inadequate to the task. They are now \npublished in accordance with a few general suggestions \nmade by him a little before his death, and in the form sub- \nstantially in which they at first appeared. \n\n\n\n■^TOtr \n\n\n\n1 \n\n\n\n1. Do you Pray in Secret? \n\nI know not how it is with the reader, but I know \nthat many persons are not in the habit of secret pray- \ner. They have no closet, no place of retirement to \nwhich they daily resort, and where, when they have \nshut the door, they pray to their Father which is in \nsecret, and in solitude seek the society of God. I am \nacquainted with one who for many years neglected \nthis duty, which all religions recognize, and which \neven nature teaches. Sometimes he read the Bible, \nand no part of it oftener than the sermon on the \nmount. Of course he must have frequently read \nthose words of the great Teacher, in which, taking \nit for granted that his hearer prays, he tells him what \nhe should do when he prays : \" But thou, when thou \nprayest, enter into thy closet ;\" (the person is sup- \nposed to have some place called his closet, to which \nhe is accustomed to retire for prayer;) \"and when \nthou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which \nis in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret \nshall reward thee openly.\" He read this, but he gave \nno heed to it. During all this period he asked no- \nthing, though he received much. God did not neg- \nlect him, though he neglected God ; and as he pray- \n\n\n\n8 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ned none, so he praised none. Sometimes, indeed, he \nsaid, \" Thank God !\" but it was said in so much \nthoughtlessness, that it was set down profaneness \nrather than praise. It is true, at that time he would \nnever allow that he was ungrateful ; but he was, and \nnow he sees that he was. He lived, and moved, and \nhad his being in God, and yet was without God in \nthe world. Many and precious were the thoughts \nof God towards him, but in all his thoughts God was \nnot. Not even when he was in trouble did he ask, \n\" Where is God my maker ?\" 1 wonder the Lord \nhad not become weary of bestowing his bounty on \nsuch an one. It is because he is the Lord and chan- \nges not. But for that, the person of whom I speak \nwould have been consumed long ago. There is no- \nthing he admires more than the long-suffering of \nGod towards him, and he hopes to spend eternity in \nadmiring it, and exchanging thoughts with his fel- \nlow-redeemed on this and kindred subjects. \n\nHe supposes that he is not the only one who has \nneglected secret prayer. He fears that this neglect \nis even now the habit of many. They are shy of \nGod. I know not why they should be. He is doing \nevery thing to woo and win them, and to secure their \nconfidence. So much has he done, that he asks (and \nI cannot answer) what he could have done more. \nHe waits on his throne of grace to be gracious to \nthem, but they come not near to him. He even calls \nto them to come to him, using too the language of \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\nmost affectionate address : \" Son, my son ;\" but they \nrespond not, \" Abba, Father.\" It is strange they \nshould treat this Father so. They treat no other fa- \nther so. What child does not, in the morning, salute \nhis father ? and what father does not expect the sa- \nlutation of each child as they come into his presence? \nOh, yes, we love our father who is on earth ; and we \nremember with gratitude the favors he does us. And \ndoes the Father of our spirits, the giver of every good \ngift, deserve no daily notice from us, no affectionate \nsalutation, no grateful recognition of indebtedness to \nhim ? I am certain he expects it, for he says, \" A \nson honoreth his father : if then I be a Father, where \nis mine honor ?\"- He claims to be a Father; and \nO, hoAV well he has established that claim ! Truly \nhe is a Father, and \" like as a father pitieth his \nchildren, so the Lord pitieth \" his. And to the com- \npassion of the father he adds the tender care and un- \ntiring mindfulness of the mother. \" Can a woman,\" \nhe asks, \" forget her sucking child ?\" She may, he \nsays, but He will not. How strange it is that men \nwill not go to the closet to meet and to pray to such \na Father ! \n\nSurely it is not for want of encouragement. If \nthey have it not in his very nature, yet in his invita- \ntions, his promises, and his past acts of unsolicited \nkindness, they have all they could desire. Nor is \nit that they have no need of God. Never one of the \nprayerless will say that. They all know what would \n\n\n\n10 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbecome of them but for that overlooking eye, and \nthat supplying hand, and that supporting arm. And \ndo they not know that God has a heart too — that he \ncan love with all the fervor of a friend % And can \nthey not imagine that in the interchange of affection \nbetween God and the soul of man there may, and \nindeed must be, ineffable delight ? And who that \nlooks but a little way forward, does not perceive an \nexigency when, in the utter inadequacy of earthly \nand human resources for comfort, he will want \" the \nconsolations of God ?\" \n\nAh, it is a sad as well as strange thing, that so \nmany enter no closet ! seek daily no retirement, either \nin their houses or elsewhere, where they may be a \nlittle while alone with God : where they may look \nup and meet the light of his countenance as he looks \ndown on them ; where they may confess their sins, \nand receive assurance of his pardoning love; where \nthey may thank him for mercies past, and humbly \nask for more ; where they may take counsel of him ; \ntell him of their griefs, and have their tears wiped \naway, and with him leave the weighty burden of \ntheir cares. \n\nI know not whether this excites more my grief \nor my wonder. I am not so much surprised that \nmen should neglect a manifest duty, but when I think \nwhat a 'privilege it is, what a happiness, what an \nhonor, to be on terms of intimacy, and in habits of \nintercourse with God, it amazes me that they should \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 11 \n\nforego it. How will such reflect upon themselves here- \nafter — how execrate their folly ! How will they won- \nder that they could have deliberately done their souls \nsuch a wrong\" ! Then it will be too late to redress \nthe wrong. They sought not the Lord while he \nmight be found — they called not upon him while he \nwas near. Yea, though he called, they refused. Now \nthey may call, but he will not answer. If any one \nwho is living in the neglect of secret prayer shall \nread this, will he not be persuaded to commence the \npractice the very day he reads it, aye, that same hour, \nif it be possible ? If it be not convenient, let him make \nit convenient. Let other things give way for this, \nrather than this for any thing. Can he think his \nheart right in the sight of God, or his condition safe \nin prospect of eternity, while he neglects prayer ? \nHow dare he live without prayer? Without it can \nhe have courage to die? At the mercy-seat of Gocl \nwe may decline to appear, but before his judgment- \nseat we must all stand. How a frequent access to \nthe first would prepare us for final arraignment at \nthe other ! How it would familiarize us with the \npresence of God ! How it would serve to break the \nshock of the entrance into eternity ! \n\nDoes any one, who is not in the habitual and daily \npractice of secret devotion, pretend to be a Christian ? \n[t is but pretence. He may believe the creed of the \nChristian, but certainly he does not pursue the prac- \ntice nor possess the spirit of the Christian. Breath- \n\n\n\n12 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ning is essential to living, and prayer is the Chris- \ntian's vital breath. Does he walk with God who \nnever converses with him ? \n\nSome spiritualize the direction of Christ, making \nthe closet to mean the heart, and the duty of private \ndevotion to be discharged in mere mental prayer. \nBut Christ did not so trifle. His closet was not his \nheart : he could not have meant that ours should be. \nHe selected the still morning, and sought out the \nsolitary place for prayer. May we be less attentive to \nthe circumstances of time and place ? Shall we talk \nabout entering into ourselves and there thinking \nprayer ? Jesus, even in his most retired intercourse \nwith his Father, used his voice. That prayer, \" Let \nthis cup pass from me,\" was vocal — and that peti- \ntion, \" God be merciful to me a sinner,\" was express- \ned in words. Shall we reserve the voice exclusively \nfor our intercourse with men, and not with it also \nsupplicate and bless God? \n\nIs anyone inquiring after truth? What place \nmore appropriate for asking \" What is truth,\" than \nthe closet ? Who so likely to be taught of God as \nthey who ask of God 1 Some men carry that ques- \ntion to the Bible, and press it there, as indeed they \nshould ; but they carry it not to the throne of grace, \nand press it there also. They read to know what \ntruth is, but do not pray to know it. \n\nOh, how an hour in the morning, spent with God, \nprepares us pleasantly and profitably to pass the \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 13 \n\nother hours of the day with men ; and at night, what \nso composing as communion with God ! In resign- \ning ourselves into the arms of sleep — that image of \ndeath, what security like that of prayer ! It engages \nHim who never slumbers nor sleeps, to watch \nover us. \n\nHas any one become remiss in secret devotion ? \nWhat ! tired of God ? weary of communion with \nhim ? How sad the state of such a soul ! \n\n\n\n2. Do you Pray in your Family t \n\nThere are families that call not on the nam^ of \nthe Lord. Nor is it a new thing. There were such \nso long ago as when Jeremiah lived. He t=^es no- \ntice of them. He has a prayer about them It seems \nhe was divinely inspired to call down the indigna- \ntion of the Lord upon such families. * Pou* out thy \nfury,\" he says, \" upon the families that <all not on \nthy name.\" I would not like to have r-en a mem- \nber of one of those families^, and much- ess the head \nof one of them. It must have been v<7 offensive to \nthe Lord that there were families * which he was \nnot acknowledged and worships And if there \nwere such families among the ^ atn en nations that \noffended him, how much mo J must * l have *&■ \n2 \n\n\n\n14 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\npleased him that there should be such families even \namong- his people Israel ! families that did not in \nthe family capacity invoke him ! I do not know \nwhy it should be less offensive now. I do not be- \nlieve it is. Families are now under as great obliga- \ntions to God as ever they were. \n\nSome persons ask why we insist on family prayer \nas a duty. They say we cannot produce any precept \nenjoining it. That is true enough. But I wonder if \nthat is not a duty, the omission of which is the sub- \nject of prophetic denunciation. I wonder if that is \nnot by implication commanded, the neglect of which \nbrings down the wrath of God on those guilty of \nthe neglect. There are some things so manifestly \nreasonable, and of such self-evident obligation, that \nthey need no law expressly enjoining them. It is \nnot necessary that they should be taught in so many \nwords. \n\nBut if ve have no express precept on the subject, \nwe have pretty good examples in favor of it. I sus- \npect Afcaham, who was so careful to instruct his \nhouseholl i n the way of the Lord, did not neglect \nto pray wih them. And David, I am quite confi- \ndent, prayed; n his family. It is said of him on one \noccasion, that < he returned to bless his household.\" \nNo doubt there vere h th prayer and praise in that \nfamily. Certainl j 0S j IVj(l must have prayed in his \nhouse. How othe. vise could he have f u i fi u ed his \nresolution that his ^ use as well as himself should \n\n\n\n\\ \n\\ \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 15 \n\nserve the Lord 1 What ! resolve that his house \nshould serve the Lord, and not join with them in \nsupplication for the grace to serve him ! That is \nnot at all likely. \n\nNow I would ask if it is not proper and right that \nevery head of a family should adopt the resolution \nof him who said, \" as for me and my house, we will \nserve the Lord ?\" But can there be religion in a \nhouse without prayer % Is there not inconsistency \nin saying, \" I and my family will serve God, but we \nwill have no family altar nor offering ?\" Is not prayer \nan essential part of the service of God ? I wonder if \nany one ever lived who supposed that family prayer \nwas not more pleasing to God than the omission of \nit. I wonder if any one ever omitted it for fear of \nbeing guilty of will- worship, or through dread that \nit might for some reason offend God 1 I wonder if \nthe practice of family prayer ever distressed any con- \nscience. The omission of it has troubled many. \n\nIt is admitted, I believe, to be the will of God that \nwe should pray to him socially. The Lord's prayer \nwas constructed for social use. The disciples were \ndirected to use it when they should pray together ; \nand it is accordingly in the plural number : not my \nFather, but \" our Father.\" Now, is God to be so- \ncially worshiped, and yet not worshiped in that \nfirst, most permanent, and most interesting form of \nsociety — the form of society instituted by God him- \nself — the family ? Is that to be believed ? But the \n\n\n\n16 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nLord's prayer seems not only intended for social, but \nfor daily use. \" Give us this day our daily bread\" \nis one of its petitions. It does not contemplate the \nmorrow. It asks supplies but for one day. Now if, as \nit appears from this reasoning, social prayer should \nbe daily, where but in the family, the society which \nis abiding, and which a single roof covers, can it \nwith propriety be daily? Should there be public re- \nligious services daily, or daily prayer-meetings for \nthis purpose ? Then, how suitable it is that those \nwho together share their daily bread, should together \ndaily ask it. \n\nHow reasonable and comely is household reli- \ngion — family worship ! Common blessings, such as \nfamilies daily share, call for common thanksgivings. \nCommon wants, such as families together feel, call \nfor common supplications. Is it not fit that families, \nin retiring to rest at night, should together commit \nthemselves to the divine keeping; and in the morn- \ning unite in praising the Lord for having been their \nprotector? It is a clear case, it seems to me. Besides, \nfathers are directed to bring up their children \" in \nthe nurture and admonition of the Lord.\" But can \nthey do this while they pray not with them and for \nthem ? I do not know how we are to comply with \nthe apostolical exhortation to pray \" every where,\" \nunless we pray in the family, as well as under \nother circumstances. \n\nIs any one in doubt whether the practice or omis- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 17 \n\n«rion of family prayer will be the more pleasing sub- \nject of retrospect from the dying bed, or the eternal \nworld? Parents should not forget, that presently \nwill come the long deferred and greatly dreaded \nseason cf taking the last look, and the last leave of \nthose whom their decease is to make orphans. O \nthen, what a sweet thought it will be to enter into \nthe dying meditation, that they have been in the \ndaily habit of bowing down with their children in \nprayer, and commending them to the care and grace \nof their heavenly Father, and that they may now \nindulge the confident hope that he will infinitely \nmore than supply the paternal place which they are \nto leave vacant. \n\nBut what need of more argument ? I suspect every \nbody secretly admits the obligation of family prayer. \nI judge so from the trouble many are at to apologize \nfor the neglect. It tries them not a little to satisfy \neven themselves with an excuse. The usual plea is \ninability. They have not the gift, they say. What \ngift ? Can they not collect their family together night \nand morning ? Have they not so much authority in \ntheir own house as that? And then can they not \nread a portion of Scripture to them ; and kneeling \ndown, express their common desires to God. If they \ncannot frame a prayer at the moment, yet can they \nnot use a form ? It requires no great gift to read a \nprayer in an audible voice. But what if it be hard \nat first, it will soon be easy, if persevered in. The \n2* \n\n\n\n18 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbeginning of almost every good habit is difficult. \nThe most of those who make this apology, presume \non their inability. They say they cannot before they \nhave tried. But until they have tried, they do not \nknow whether they can or not. What if some have \ntried once and failed. One failure should not dis- \nhearten them, nor two, nor even twenty. Demos- \nthenes tried speaking many times before he became \nan orator. Besides, how do those who presume on \ntheir inability to conduct family worship, know what \nassistance they might receive from God, if they were \nto make an humble and faithful experiment. \n\nIf any one shall condescend to read this, who does \nnot pray in his family, I advise him to commence \nimmediately. He knows that he will never be sorry \nfor it, if he does ; but he is not so sure that he may \nnot be sorry for it if he does not. If there were no \nother reason in favor of the practice, this alone would \nbe sufficient. I think it is Jay who says that a fa- \nmily without prayer is like a house without a roof — \nit has no protection. Who would like to live in such \na house? \n\n\n\n3. I must Pray more. \n\n\n\nI habitually feel this necessity, but the other day \nthe conviction came to my mind with strange power, \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 19 \n\nand I said with greater emphasis than ever, J must \nfray more. It struck me with indescribable wonder \nthat so little time should be employed, and so little \nenergy expended in prayer, even by those who are \nprompt to acknowledge its dignity as a privilege, and \nits efficacy as a means of obtaining good. It is not \nnow as it was in patriarchal times. We do not pray \nas Jacob did. He wrestled until the breaking of the \nday. Yes, his praying was wrestling, and it lasted \nall night. We put forth no such power in prayer, and \nwe do not allow the repose of our nights to be inter- \nrupted by it. It is not because our wants are all sup- \nplied that we are so feeble and brief in prayer — nor \nis it that God's bounty is exhausted. We are as \npoor as creatures ever were, and He as rich and mu- \nnificent as ever. His hand is not shortened, neither \nhis ear heavy. \n\nOnly think how small a portion of each succes- \nsive day is spent in prayer. I wonder if any Chris- \ntian ever thought of it without being so dissatisfied \nas to resolve that he would spend more time in pray- \ner the next day. Just add together the minutes you \ndaily occupy in supplication, and the kindred exer- \ncises of devotion, scriptural reading and meditation, \nand see to what it will amount. Will the sum total \nbe one hour ? What ! less than an hour a day in de- \nvotion ? — not one twenty-fourth part of time ! And is \nthis all which can be afforded ? Let us see. How \nmuch time has business ? Could not a little be saved \n\n\n\n20 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nfrom business for prayer ? Do you not give an hour \nor two more to business every day than it absolutely \nrequires ? Then how much time has sleep for the re- \nfreshment of the body ? Might not some little time \nbe redeemed from sleep and spent in prayer, with \nmore profit to the whole man than if it were given \nto repose ? Would not the soul thereby obtain a rest, \nwhich would most favorably react on the body ? I \ndo not believe that the Psalmist suffered any thing \nin the day for the hours of night he spent in com- \nmuning on his bed with his own heart and with God. \nI do not believe that even \" tired nature \" had any \nreason to complain of that interruption of the repose \ndue to her. I suspect he enjoyed as good health, \nand was as vigorous through the day as we, though \nhe rose at midnight to give thanks unto God, and \nprevented the dawning of the morning with his pray- \ner. Such interruptions of sleep are no loss even to \nthe body. I am sure, and I think no one can doubt, \nthat considerably more time might be afforded for \nprayer than is actually given to it. If we take none \nfrom business and none from sleep, yet could not \nsome be spared from the table, or conversation, which \nis not always the most profitable? Perhaps some \nof us spend more time in barely receiving the body's \nnourishment, than we do in the entire care of the \nsoul ! But not to dwell to tediousness on this topic. \nYou have only to look back on a day, to perceive \nhow much of it might have been spent in prayer and \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 21 \n\ndevotion without interfering with any thing which \nought not to be interfered with. \n\nSeeing then that we can pray more — that time \ncan be afforded for it, I am amazed that we do not \npray more. If prayer was nothing but a duty, we \nought to pray more. We do not pray enough to dis- \ncharge the mere obligation of prayer. We are com- \nmanded to pray more than we do, aye, to pray \" with- \nout ceasing.\" But prayer, while it is a duty, is ra- \nther to be viewed by us in the light of a privilege. \nAnd O it is such a privilege ! What a favor that \nwe may petition God and ask of him eternal life, with \nthe confidence that we shall not ask in vain ! How \nstrange it is that we no more value and exercise this \n■privilege of prayer ! It is astonishing that the sense \nof want, or the desire of happiness, does not carry us \noftener to the throne of grace, and that we should \never require to be incited to prayer by the stimulus \nof conscience. Oh ! I wonder that we do not often- \ner go in unto the King, whose gracious sceptre is \never extended towards us — I wonder we have not \nmore frequent and longer interviews with our hea- \nvenly Father. It is strange we do not pray more, \nwhen prayer is the easiest way of obtaining good. \nWhat is so easy as to ask for what we want ? How \ncould we receive blessings on cheaper terms ? Sure- \nly it is easier than to labor, and less expensive than \nto buy. It may be hard to the spirit to ask of men. \nTo beg of them you may be ashamed. But no such \n\n\n\n22 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nfeeling should keep you aloof from God. He giveth \nand upbraideth not. \n\nBut prayer is not merely the easiest way of obtain- \ning good. It is the only Avay of obtaining the great- \nest of all good. The subordinate necessaries of life \nwe get by labor or purchase ; but the things we most \nneed are given in answer to prayer. The one thing \nneedful is a divine donation. We ask, and receive it. \nNow we labor much. Why do we not pray more ? \nDo we seek a profitable employment ? None is so \nprofitable as prayer. No labor makes so large a re- \nturn. If you have an unoccupied hour — and you \nhave many, or might have — by redeeming time, you \ncannot employ it in any way that shall tell so favorably \non your interests as by filling it up with petitions to \nGod. ' Yet when we have such an hour, how apt we \nare to spend it in unprofitable intercourse with our \nfellows, rather than in communion with God. It is \nwonderful that we talk so much, when \" the talk of \nthe lips tendeth only to penury,\" and pray so little, \nwhen prayer \"brings a quick return of blessings in \nvariety.\" \n\nIs there any thing attended by a purer pleasure \nthan prayer ? One who knew, said, \" It is good for \nme to draw near to God \" — and again, \" It is good \nto sing praises unto our God : for it is pleasant, and \npraise is comely.\" All the exercises of devotion are \nas full of pleasure as they are abundant in profit. \nBut prayer is not only a means of getting good. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 23 \n\nIt is such a means of doi?ig good, that I wonder our \nbenevolence does not lead us to pray more. We are \ncommanded, \" as we have opportunity,\" to do good \nunto all men. Now prayer affords us the opportu- \nnity of being universal benefactors. Through God \nwe can reach all men. We can make ourselves felt \nby all the world, by moving the hand that moves it. \nIn no other way can we reach all. Prayer makes \nus, in a sense, omnipresent and omnipotent. It pre- \nvails with Him who is both. \n\nThe ivorld needs your intercessions. It lies in \nwickedness. Zion needs them. She languishes be- \ncause few pray for her peace ; few come to her so- \nlemn assemblies. Whose family needs not the pray- \ners of its every member ? Who has not kindred that \nare out of Christ % With such a call upon us for \nprayer so urgent, and from so many quarters, I won- \nder we pray no more. \n\nI must pray more, for then I shall do more — more \nfor God, and more for myself; for I find that when I \npray most, I accomplish more in the briefer intervals \nbetween my devotions, than when I give all my time \nto labor or study. I am convinced there is nothing \nlost by prayer. I am sure nothing helps a student \nlike prayer. His most felicitous hours — his hours \nof most successful application to study, are those \nwhich immediately follow his seasons of most fer- \nvent devotion. And no wonder. Shall the collision \nof created minds with each other produce in them a \n\n\n\n24 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nsalutary excitement, and shall not the communion of \nthose minds with the infinite Intelligence much more \nexcite them, and make them capable of wider thought \nand loftier conceptions 1 \n\nI must pray more, because other Christians, whose \nbiography I have read, have prayed more than I do. \n\nGod is disposed to hear more prayers from me \nthan I offer ; and Jesus, the Mediator, stands ready \nto present more for me. \n\nIf I pray more, I shall sin less. \n\nI will pray more. The Lord help to fulfill this \nresolution. \n\n\n\n4. I must Pray differently. \n\nSome time ago I felt strongly the necessity of \npraying more, and I expressed that impression in an \narticle entitled, \" I must pray more.\" Now I feel that \nI must not only pray more, but differently ; and that \nmy praying more will not answer any good purpose, \nunless I also pray differently. I find that quality \nis to be considered in praying as well as quantity ; \nand, indeed, the former more than the latter. We \nlearn from Isaiah, chapter 1, that it is possible to \nmake many prayers, or to multiply prayer, as it is \nin the margin, and yet not be heard. The Scribes \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 25 \n\nand Pharisees made long prayers ; but their much \npraying availed them nothing, while the single short \npetition of the publican was effectual to change his \nentire prospects for eternity. It was because it was \nprayer of the right kind. It is a great error to sup- \npose that we shall be heard for our much speaking. \nLet me, however, say, that while length is not by it- \nself any recommendation of prayer, yet we have the \nhighest and best authority for continuing a long time \nin prayer. We know who it was that, \" rising up a \ngreat while before day,\" departed into a solitary place, \nand there prayed ; and of whom it is recorded in an- \nother place, that he \" continued all night in prayer to \nGod.\" Certainly they should spend a great deal of \ntime in prayer, who are instructed to \" pray with- \nout ceasing.\" It is in the social and public worship \nof God that long prayers are out of place. \n\nBut to return from this digression. I must pray \ndifferently; and I will tell you one thing which has \nled me to think so. I find that I do not pray effec- \ntually. It may be the experience of others, as a eil \nas of myself. I do not obtain what I ask ; and that \nthough I ask for the right sort of things. If I asked \nfor temporal good, and did not receive it, I should \nknow how to account for it. I should conclude that \nI was denied in mercy ; and that my prayer, though \nnot answered in kind, was answered in better kind. \nBut I pray for spiritual blessing — for what is inhe- \nrently and under all circumstances good, and do not \n\n\n\n26 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nobtain it. How is this ? There is no fault in the \nhearer of prayer — no unfaithfulness in God. The \nfault must be in the offerer. I do not pray right. \nAnd since there is no use in asking without obtain- \ning, the conclusion is that I must pray differently. \n\nI find, moreover, that I do not pray as they did in \nold time, whose prayers Avere so signally answered. \nWhen I compare my prayers with those of the Pa- \ntriarchs, especially with that of Jacob — and with the \nprayers of the prophets, those, for instance, of Eli- \njah and Daniel ; when I compare my manner of \nmaking suit to the Savior, with the appeals made to \nhim by the blind men, and by the woman of Canaan ; \nand above all, when I lay my prayers along side of \nHis, who \" offered up prayers and supplications with \nstrong crying and tears,\" I perceive such a dissimi- \nlarity, that I thence conclude I must pray differently. \n\nI find also that I do not urge my suits to God as \nI do those which I have sometimes occasion to make \nto men. I am wiser as a child of this world, than I \nam as one of the children of light. When I want \nto carry a point with a human power, I find that I \ntake more pains, and am more intent upon it, and \nuse greater vigilance and effort, than when I want to \ngain something of God. It is clear, then, that I must \nalter and reform my prayers. I must pray differently. \n\nBut in what respects 1 How differently ? \n\n1. I must not speak to God at a distance. I must \ndraw near to him. Nor that alone. I must stir my- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHT?!. 27 \n\nself up to take hold of him. Isaiah, 64 : 7. Yea, \nI must take hold of his strength, that I may make \npeace with him. Isaiah, 27 : 5. I have been satisfied \nwith approaching God. I must, as it were, appre~ \nhend him. \n\n2. I must not only take hold of God in prayer, \nbut 1 must hold fast to him, and not let him go, ex- \ncept he bless me. So Jacob did. There were two \nimportant ingredients in his prayer — faith and per- \nseverance. By the one he took hold of God ; by \nthe other he held fast to him till the blessing was \nobtained. \n\n3. I must be more affected by the subjects about \nwhich I pray. I must join tears to my prayers. \nPrayers and tears used to go together much more \nthan they do now. Hosea says that Jacob \" wept \nand made supplication.\" Hannah wept while she \nprayed. So did Nehemiah, and David, and Heze- \nkiah ; and God, in granting the request of the last \nmentioned, uses this language : \" I have heard thy \nprayer, I have seen thy tears.\" But a greater than \nall these is here. Jesus offered up prayers \" with \nstrong crying and tears.\" Some think it unmanly \nto weep. I do not know how that may be ; but I \nknow it is not unchristian. It is thought by some, \nthat men must have been more addicted to tears then \nthan they are now ; but it is my opinion that they \nfelt more, and that is the reason they wept more. \n\nNow I must feel so as to weep; not by constraint, \n\n\n\n28 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbut in spite of myself. I must be so affected, that \nGod shall see my tears as well as hear my voice ; \nand in order to being- so affected, I must meditate. \nIt was while David mused that the fire burned ; and \nthen he spake with his tongue in the language of \nprayer. And we know that which melted his heart \naffected his eye, for in the same Psalm, the 39th, he \nsays, ; ' Hold not thy peace at my tears.\" \n\n4. There are other accompaniments of prayer \nwhich I must not omit. Nehemiah not only wept \nand prayed, but also mourned, and fasted, and made \nconfession. Why should not I do the same? \n\n5. I must plead as well as pray. My prayers must \nbe more of the nature of arguments — and I must \nmake greater use than I have ever done of certain \npleas. There is one derived from the character of \nGod. \" For thy name's sake pardon mine iniquity. \nHave mercy on me according to thy loving kind- \nness\" Another is derived from the promises of God. \n\" Hath he said, and shall he not do it; or hath he \nspoken, and shall he not make it good?\" Another \nis drawn from the past doings of God. \" I will re- \nmember the years of the right hand of the Most High. \nI will remember the works of the Lord ; surely I \nwill remember thy wonders of old.\" I must also \nplead Christ more in my prayers. The argument \nis drawn out to our hands by Paul : \" He that spared \nnot his own Son .... how shall he not with him \nalso freely give us all things?\" \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 29 \n\n6. But again : I must cry unto the Lord, Cry- \ning expresses more than praying. It expresses earn \nest, fervent prayer. This is what they all used to do. \nThey cried to God. The Psalmist says : \" I cried \nwith my whole heart.\" I must cry with my whole \nheart — yea mightily, as even the Ninevites did, else \nthose heathen will rise up in the judgment and con- \ndemn me. \n\n7. I must seek the Lord in prayer, feeling as did \nJob, when he said, \" O, that I knew where I might \nfind him, that I might come even to his seat !\" And \nthis I must do, as Judah is once said to have done, \nwith my \" whole desire.\" Yea, I must search for \nhim with all my heart. I must even four out my \nheart before him, as the Psalmist, on one occasion, \nexhorts. I must \" keep not silence, and give him \nno rest,\" as Isaiah directs ; \" night and day praying \nexceedingly\" as Paul says he did. \n\n8. And I must pray in the Holy Ghost, as Jude \nexhorts. We need the Spirit to help our infirmi- \nties, and to make intercession for us. Nor should \nwe be satisfied with any prayer in which we have \nnot seemed to have his help. \n\nFinally, I must alter and alter my prayers, till I \nget them right ; and I must not think them right un- \ntil I obtain the spiritual blessings which they ask. \nIf I pray for more grace, and do not get it, I must \npray differently for it, till I do obtain it. \n\nOh, if Christians prayed differently, as well as \n3* \n\n\n\n30 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nmore, what heavenly places our closets would be ! \nWhat interesting meetings prayer-meetings would \nbe ! What revivals of religion we should have ! how \nfrequent, numerous, and pure ! What a multitude \nof souls would be converted ! What joyful tidings \nwe should hear from our Missionary stations, and \nfrom the heathen world ! Oh, what times we should \nhave ! The Millennium would be on us before we \nknew it. \n\nAnd because the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of truth, \nthe offering of a different kind of prayer for the Spi- \nrit, would do more to put down error than all other \nmeans which can be resorted to. The preachers of \ntruth cannot put it down without the aid of the Spi- \nrit of truth. \n\nLet us then pray differently. Let us at least try. \nI am sure it is worth the effort. Let every one who \nreads this resolve, \" I will pray differently.\" \n\n\n\n5. Why Prayer is not heard. \n\nThere are some who are not at all interested in \nthis inquiry. They offer no prayer. There is in \ntheir case nothing to be heard. They are content \nwith the things which are to be had without asking. \nSuch are in a bad way, and I suspect they t ome- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 31 \n\ntimes themselves think so. That dependent crea- \ntures should habitually and devoutly acknowledge \ntheir dependence before God ; and that needy crea- \ntures, whose necessities return every day, and in- \ndeed recur with every moment, should ask God to \nsupply them, is too reasonable a thing for men to neg- \nlect it, and yet be at perfect peace with themselves. \nBut to pass from those who never make the expe- \nriment of prayer, we observe that some pray with- \nout any expectation or care to be heard. To obtain \nis not their object. Their end is accomplished in ask- \ning. They hear and judge that prayer is a duty owed \nto God. They therefore pray, that they may dis- \ncharge this duty ; and having prayed, and so done \ntheir duty, they are satisfied. Of course such per- \nsons obtain nothing. Why should they 1 If a child \nof yours should come and ask you for any thing \nfrom a mere sense of duty, you would say, \" Very \nwell, you have done your duty, go;\" but you would \nnot give him the thing. He did not ask it with any \nwish to get it. He does not feel his want of it. He \nmeant only to do his duty in asking. It makes very \nlittle difference with such what is the matter of their \nprayer — what petitions they offer. Any thing that \nis of the nature of supplication will do. It is true, \nthey generally pray for the right things, because the \nprayers they have heard and read petitioned for \nsuch, and they fall naturally into that style of prayer. \nAsk such persons if their prayers are heard, and you \n\n\n\n32 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nastonish them. That is what they never looked for. \nThey never asked any thing with the hope of re- \nceiving it — never prayed from a sense of want. I have \nsometimes thought, how many would never pray, if \nprayer was not a duty. They never pray except \nwhen urged to it by conscience. As a privilege, they \nset no value on it. Now the truth is, when a man is \nreally engaged in prayer, he altogether forgets that \nit is a duty. He feels that he wants something which \nGod alone can give, and therefore goes and asks it ; \nand feeling that he wants it very much, he is in \nearnest, asks and asks again, and waits and pleads \nfor it, till he gets it. Does any one suppose that the \npublican smote on his breast, and cried, \" God be \nmerciful to me a sinner,\" from a sense of duty, and \nnot rather from a conviction of sin, and a deep feel- \ning of his need of mercy ? And yet how many ask \nfor mercy from a mere sense of duty. They have \ntheir reward, but they do not obtain mercy. \n\nSome prayers proceed from a conviction of want, \nwhile there is no sense of want. The persons judge \nthat they need the things they ask for, but they do \nnot feel their need of them. Now, prayers, which \ncome from no deeper source than the understanding, \nare not heard. They must come from the heart. \nTrue prayer always originates in the heart. It is \nthe heart's sincere desire. Or, as another has well \ndescribed it, \" It is a sense of want, seeking relief \nfrom God.\" \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 33 \n\nBut there may be a sense of want, and yet no real \ndesire for that which is adapted to the supply of the \nwant. .In that case the prayer, not being sustained \nby a corresponding desire in the heart, is not heard. \nThere is a conflict here. The lips pray one thing \nand the heart another. The request is perhaps to \nbe delivered from all sin, but the desire is to be de- \nlivered from all but one or two favorite sins. Now \nit would be strange if God should grant a man's re- \nquest to the disregard of his desire — that he should \nattend to the lips rather than the heart, and answer \nthe prayer according to its terms rather than its \nmeaning. \n\nBut sometimes the desire for the thing requested \nis real, while the mischief is, it is not paramount — \nit is not supreme. This is a common case. The \nprayer expresses what is desired, but not what is \ndesired on the whole. Many really wish to be reli- \ngious, and they pray that they may be so, but they \ndo not on the whole desire it. They have a strange \nwish to be something else which is incompatible \nwith their being religious. Again, some sincerely \ndesire the progress of the Gospel, and pray, \" thy \nkingdom come,\" but they desire still more to take \ntheir ease, or to keep their money. Perhaps some of \nthis description attend the Monthly Concert. But \ndesire may be sincere and supreme, and yet not in- \ntense. Effectual prayer is the expression of intense \ndesire. The examples of successful prayer recorded \n\n\n\n34 PRACTICAL THOTTGHTR. \n\nin the Bible evince this. The woman of Canaan sin- \ncerely, supremely, and intensely desired what she \nasked. Such was the character of Jacob's desire for \na blessing, and of the publican's for mercy. Where \nthe desire of spiritual blessings is not very strong, it \nshows that these blessings are not suitably estimated. \nA great deal depends on having a petition pro- \nperly presented. It is all-important to get it into the \nright hands. A petition frequently fails through in- \nattention to this. If the proper person had been en- \ngaged to present and urge it, it would have been \ngranted. This holds true of suits to the throne of \nthe heavenly grace. We must ask in the name of \nChrist. We must put our petitions into his hands, \nand engage the great Advocate to present and urge \nthem. Him the Father always hears. Even the \nprayers of the saints need an incense to be offered \nalong with them to render them acceptable. That \nincense is Christ's intercession. \n\nTo present a petition is one thing. To prosecute \na suit is another. Most prayer answers to the former. \nBut successful prayer corresponds to the latter. The \nchildren of this world are in this respect wise in \ntheir generation. When they have a petition to car- \nry, they go with it to the seat of government, and \nhaving conveyed it by the proper channel to the \npower which is to decide upon it, they anxiously \nawait the decision, in the meantime securing all the \ninfluence they can, and doing every thing possible \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 35 \n\nto ensure a favorable result. So should the children \nof light do. But frequently they just lodge their pe- \ntition in the court of heaven, and there they let it lie. \nThey do not press their suit. They do not employ \nother means of furthering it, beyond the simple pre- \nsenting of it. They do not await the decision on it. \nThe whole of prayer does not consist in taking hold \nof God. The main matter is holding on. How many \nare induced, by the slightest appearance of repulse, to \nlet go, as Jacob did not ! I have been struck with \nthe manner in which petitions are usually conclud- \ned : \"And your petitioners will ever frayP So \n\" men ought always to pray, (to God,) and never \nfaint.\" Payson says : \" The promise of God is not \nto the act, but to the habit o( prayer.\" \n\nSometimes prayer is not heard, because not offered \nin faith, \" He that cometh to God, must believe.\" \nYea, he must \"ask in faith, nothing wavering.\" \nSometimes it is for want of a concomitant submission \nto the will of God. He who said, \" let this cup pass \nfrom me,\" added, \" nevertheless, not as I will, but as \nthou wilt.\" Often prayer fails because the direction \nto pray every where is neglected. The petition pro- \nceeds from the closet, but is not also offered in the fa- \nmily, in the social meeting, and in the solemn assem- \nbly. Sometimes a specific direction is given concern- \ning something to be done in connection with prayer, \nwhich being neglected, the prayer by itself is una- \nvailing. Thus, in order that we may not enter into \n\n\n\n36 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ntemptation, we are commanded to \" watch and pray.\" \nVain is prayer to secure against temptation, if vigi- \nlance be omitted. Prayer is sometimes ineffectual, \nbecause too general. When we ask many things, \nit commonly indicates that we are not in earnest for \nany thing. The heart is incapable of being at the \nsame time the subject of many intense desires. The \nmemorials of the children of this world are specific. \nThey are rarely encumbered with more than one \npetition. Does any one suppose that when prayer \nwas made of the church for Peter, being in prison, \nthey prayed for every body and every thing first, \nand only brought in Peter's case at the close? \n\nPetitions have usually numerous signatures. So \nshould there be union in prayer among Christians. \nSocial supplication has particular value in the esti- \nmation of God. Special promises are made to it. \nNeed I say that alloiced sin vitiates prayer ? \" If I \nregard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear \nme.\" \n\nThere is a regard to the promises which ought to \nbe had in prayer. Moreover, confession of t in out of \na broken heart, and gratitude for good received, \nshould accompany it. And there is a \" praying in \nthe Holy Ghost,\" which we should aim to under- \nstand and realize. \n\nAt an earlier stage of these remarks I might have \nobserved that some prayer is not heard, because it is \nsaid rather than prayed. Now, prayer ought to be \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 37 \n\nprayed. The closet is not the place for recitation. \nWhat more common than this expression : \" I must \nsay my prayers?\" Must you indeed? Is this the \nway you speak of it ? Is it a task to which you are \ngoing - reluctantly to apply yourself? and say your \nprayers too 1 How this contrasts with the cheerful \npurpose of the Psalmist, \" My voice shalt thou hear \nin the morning, O Lord ; in the morning will I di- \nrect my prayer unto thee, and will look up.\" \n\nPerhaps one brings his gift to the altar, and for- \ngets that his brother has aught again:-* him ; or re- \nmembering it, does not go first and seek reconcilia- \ntion with him, but proceeds to offer his gift, and that \nis the reason it is not accepted. \n\nMany a Christian hinders his prayer by indulg- \ning in that species of unbelief, which surmises that \nwhat he asks is too great a thing for God to bestow \non one so unworthy as he is. He forgets that the \ngreatest, aye the greatest gift, has already been con- \nferred in God's own Son, and the foundation therein \nlaid for the argument, \" how shall he not with him \nalso freely give us all things?\" God, having begun \nhis bounty in such a style of magnificence, consist- \nency requires him now to go on, and do the greatest \npossible thing for the recipients of his Son. \n\n\n\n38 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n6. I must Praise more. \n\nThe title of a recent article was, \" I must pray \nmore ;\" and in it I expressed wonder that we pray- \nso little, and gave reasons why we should pray more. \nBut it strikes me that we ought to praise more as \nwell as pray more. I do not know how it is with \nothers, but I know that I have a great deal for \nwhich to be thankful and to praise God. I feel that \nit will not do for me to spend all my breath in pray- \ner. I should thus, it is true, acknowledge my de- \npendence on God ; but where would be the acknow- \nledgment of his benefits conferred upon me ? I must \nspend a part of my breath in praise. O ! to be ani- \nmated from above with that life, whose alternate \nbreath is prayer and praise ! God has been very \ngood to me. Yes, he has exercised goodness towards \nme in all its various forms of pity, forbearance, care, \nbounty, grace and mercy ; or to express all in one \nword, \" God is love,\" and he has been lcve to me. \nI do not know why he should have treated me so \nkindly. I have sought, but can find no reason out of \nhimself. I conclude it is because he \" delighteth in \nmercy.\" His nature being love, it is natural for him \nto love his creatures, and especially those whom he \nhas called to be his children. O ! the goodness of \nGod ! The thought of it sometimes comes over me \nwith very great power, and I am overwhelmed in \nadmiration. Nothing so easily breaks up the foun- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 39 \n\ntain of tears within me. Those drops, if I may judge \nfrom my own experience, were intended as much to \nexpress gratitude as grief. I think I shall be able, \nwithout weariness, to spend eternity on the topic of \ndivine love and goodness. \n\nReader, can you not adopt my language as your \nown ? Has not God been the same to you ? And shall \nwe not praise him ? Shall all our devotion consist in \nprayer 1 Shall we be always thinking of our wants, \nand never of his benefits — always dwelling on what \nremains to be done, and never thinking of what has \nalready been done for us — always uttering desire, and \nnever expressing gratitude — expending all our voice \nin supplication, and none of it in song? Is this the \nway to treat a benefactor % No, indeed. It is not just \nso to treat him ; neither is it loise. It is very bad \npolicy to praise no more than Christians in general \ndo. They would have much more success in pray- \ner, if one-half the time they now spend in it were \nspent in praise. I do not mean that they pray too \nmuch, but that they praise too little. I suspect the \nreason why the Lord did such great things for the \nPsalmist was, that, while he was not by any means \ndeficient in prayer, he abounded in praise. The \nLord heard his psalms, and while he sung of mercy \nshown, showed him more. And it would be just so \nwith us, if we abounded more in praise and thanks- \ngiving. It displeases God that we should be always \ndwelling on our wants, as if he had never supplied \n\n\n\n40 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\none of them. How do we know that God is not \nwaiting for us to praise him for a benefit he has al- \nready conferred, before he will confer on us that other \nwhich we may be now so earnestly desiring of him 1 \nIt is wonderful how much more prone we are to for- \nget the benefit received, than the benefit wanted — in \nother words, how much more inclined we are to of- \nfer prayer than praise. For one who offers genuine \npraise, there may be found ten that pray. Ten lepers \nlifted up their voices together in the prayer, \" Jesus, \nMaster, have mercy on us,\" but only one of the ten \n\"returned to give glory to God.\" The rest were sa- \ntisfied with the benefit — this one only thought grate- \nfully of the benefactor. His gratitude obtained for \nhim, I doubt not, a greater blessing than ever his \nprayer had procured ; and praise has often, I believe, \nin the experience of the people of God, been found \nmore effectual for obtaining blessings than prayer. \nA person, being once cast upon a desolate island, \nspent a day in fasting and prayer for his deliverance, \nbut no help came. It occurred to him then to keep \na day of thanksgiving and praise, and he had no \nsooner done it than relief was brought to him. You \nsee, as soon as he began to sing of mercy exercised, \nthe exercise of mercy was renewed to him. The \nLord heard the voice of his praise. \n\nChristian reader, you complain perhaps that your \npraj r er is not heard ; suppose you try the efficacy of \npraise. Peradventure you will find that the way to \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 41 \n\nobtain new favors is to praise the Lord for favors re- \nceived. Perhaps, if you consider his goodness, he \nwill consider your wants. It may be you are a pa- \nrent, and one child is converted, but there is another \nconcerning whom you say, \" O that he might live \nbefore Thee !\" Go now and bless the Lord for the \nconversion of 'the first, and it is very likely he will \ngive thee occasion shortly to keep another day of \nthanksgiving for the salvation of the other. Some of \nus are sick. Perhaps it is because we did not praise \nthe Lord for health. We forget that benefit. We \ndo not forget our sickness. O no. Nor is there \nany lack of desire in us to get well. We pray for \nrecovery. And so we should ; but it strikes me that \nwe might get well sooner were we to dwell with less \ngrief and despondency on our loss of health, and, to \ncontemplate with cheerful and grateful admiration \nwhat God has done for our souls — the great love \nwherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in \nsins ; and how he spared not his own Son, that he \nmight spare us ; and gives us now his Spirit, to be in \nus the earnest of heaven, our eternal home. If we \nwere to think such thoughts, to the forgetfulness of \nour bodily aliments, I judge it would be better for \nthe whole man, body and soul both, than any other \ncourse we can pursue. If the affliction should still \ncontinue, we should count it light, aye, should re- \njoice in it, because it is his will, and because he \nsays he means to make it work our good. \n4* \n\n\n\n42 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nThere is nothing glorifies God like praise. \" Who- \nso offereth praise, glorifieth me.\" Ps. 1 : 23. Prayer \nexpresses dependence and desire ; but praise admi- \nration and gratitude. By it men testify and tell all \nabroad that God is good, and thus others are persuad- \ned to \" taste and see that the Lord is good.\" Praise \nis altogether the superior exercise of the two. Pray- \ner may be purely selfish in its origin, but praise is in- \ngenuous. Praise is the employment of heaven. An- \ngels praise. The spirits of the just made perfect \npraise. We shall not always pray, but we shall ever \npraise. Let us anticipate the employment of heaven. \nLet us exercise ourselves unto praise. Let us learn \nthe song now, \" O that men would praise the Lord \nfor his goodness.\" But above all, \" let the saints be \njoyful in glory : let them sing aloud upon their beds.\" \nI charge thee, my soul, to praise him, and he will \nnever let thee want matter for praise. \" While I live \nwill I praise the Lord: I will sing praises unto my \nGod while I have any being.\" \n\n\n\n7. Do you remember Christ? \n\nI know you cannot help thinking of Christ some- \ntimes. His story is too extraordinary to be heard \nonce and never again remembered. There is also \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 43 \n\nmuch which we daily see and hear to remind us of \nhim. Doubtless you often involuntarily remember \nhim ; but do you voluntarily, and of choice, remem- \nber him ? Do you ever, by an exercise of volition, \nrecall the memory of him ? He is sometimes in- \ntruded into the society of your thoughts, but do you \never invite him there ? Do you ever say, \" Come \nnow, let me think of Christ ?\" I doubt not you do \nthis also. You voluntarily remember — you call to \nmind his incarnation, his miracles of mercy, his \ndoctrine, his example, his resurrection ; but do you \nparticularly remember his death ? His death was \nthe main circumstance in his history. Do your \nthoughts, passing from the manger along the track \nof his sorrowful story, fasten on the cross ? \n\nMay I ask, moreover, with what you remember \nhim ? Whether it is a mere intellectual operation, \nor one in which the heart is conjoined ? There are \nrecollections which pass across the mind without \never stirring the most easily excited emotions of the \nheart. Is your recollection of Christ of this kind ? \nor do you feel while you think of him? Do your \naffections move in the line of your thoughts, and \ncollect about the same centre? Jesus ought to be \nremembered with the heart. We should feel when \nwe think of him. You say, perhaps, \" I do not only \nmentally, but cordially remember Christ.\" But do \nyou remember him practically ? Do you do any \nthing in remembrance of him ? It is customary not \n\n\n\n44 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nonly to remember, but to commemorate great bene- \nfactors ; and that not merely by speaking of their \nbenevolent exploits, but by some appropriate acts. \nDo you this with respect to Christ, that greatest, best \nof benefactors ? \n\nPerhaps you answer : \" I do many things out of \nregard to the memory of Christ. His precepts ge- \nnerally I endeavor to obey.\" That is all very well ; \nbut do you that which he appointed, or requested to \nbe done in remembrance of him, on that \" same night \nin which he was betrayed V Some do not. Even \nsome who profess respect, and indeed love for Christ, \ndo not ! It is strange, but so it is. They remember \nChrist in their own way, but not in his way. They \ndo some things in remembrance of him, but not that \nwhich he said \" doP I wonder they do not adopt \nhis way. I cannot help suspecting their love when \nI see they do not. It always appeared to me that such \na benefactor as Christ ought to be remembered in his \nown way — that he deserved to have the privilege of \nsaying how he would be remembered ; and that sin- \nners, whom he died to save, should remember him in \nthat way, even though it should not seem to them \nthe most appropriate and reasonable manner of com- \nmemorating him. I do not know how it strikes \nothers, but so it always struck me ; and I confess I \ntake the bread and eat it, and I put the cup V) my \nlips, primarily, because he said, \" Do this.\" \n\nThe question about the usefulness of visible me- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 45 \n\nmorials, and the suitableness of these memorials, I \nam content that he should settle. I know very well \nthat if there be no natural adaptation in these me- \nmorials to do me good, he can connect a blessing \nwith them. It is my part to obey him. It is enough \nfor me that my Savior inclined to this mode of be- \ning remembered, and expressed such a wish : the \nleast I can do is to comply with it. He did not ex- \npress a great many wishes. It is an easy yoke he- \ncalls us to take — a light burden to bear. I cannot \nhelp regarding it as unkind, that this one wish of Je- \nsus should not be complied with; and especially when \nI consider what a friend he was — what a benefactor ! \nI use the word benefactor — but those who are ac- \nquainted with the etymology of the word, know it \ndoes not express all that Christ was. It implies do- \ning out of good will to others ; but his benevolence \nwas not satisfied with benefaction : he suffered — he \ndied for others. Strong as death — stronger was his \nlove ! And consider, too, the circumstances under \nwhich this wish was expressed — when it was, and \nwhere. All his wishes, I think, should be complied \nwith ; but this was his last. He was going to suf- \nfer — he was to die in a few hours : and such a death \ntoo ! and for them of whom he made the request, \nthat they might die never. And the request was \ntouching his death. He desired it might be com- \nmemorated as he signified. Oh, to think that such \na wish should not be complied with — the tender re- \n\n\n\n4G PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nquest of the dying Redeemer not regarded ! Who \nwould have believed it? I wonder those words, \n\" broken for you,\" do not break the heart of every \none who refuses. \n\nMen treat no other being so. Out of their own \nmouths I will judge them. They know the sacred \nregard they pay to last wishes and dying injunctions ; \nand that, though they are under no particular obli- \ngations to the persons expressing them, and though \nthe things desired be often unreasonable, yet, be- \ncause they are last wishes — dying requests, the in- \ndividuals expressing them being about to make the \nawful transition to eternity, how solemnly they \ncharge the memory with them ! how punctiliously \nthey comply with them ! We feel as if persons in \nsuch circumstances had a right to command us. I \nnever knew one such request, if it was practicable, \nand at all reasonable, that was not complied with. I \nought to say, I never knew but one. The last request \nof Jesus Christ — his last solemn injunction on those \nwhom he bled to save, forms the solitary exception!- \nOh, it is too bad ! It were a neglect unpardonable, \nbut for the mediation of the very being who is the \nobject of it. Nothing but his blood can cleanse from \nthe sin of putting away from us the offered emblem \nof it. I know not how to make any apology for it. \nJesus pleaded for his murderers, that they knew not \nwhat they did. But those who disregard his dying \ninjunction, know what they do. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 47 \n\nExcuses, it is true, they make ; but to what do they \namount ? Can any doubt that Christ said, u Do this ?\" \nCan any doubt that he meant it to be done by all who \nbelieve on him 1 What reason can be imagined why \none redeemed sinner should partake of the emblems \nof the body and blood of Christ, which does not \nequally apply to every redeemed sinner 1 Should \nnot as many as the body was broken and the blood \nshed for, partake of the memorials of that transaction % \nWhat propriety is there in limiting the command. \n\" Do this,\" and not the declaration, \" This is my body \nbroken for you ?\" If we put it on the ground of \nright to command, questions any one the right of \nChrist to issue mandates ? What duty plainer — \nmore peremptory ? Do some pay respect to this, \nwho do not obey other commands of Christ ? What \nif it be so ? Is that a reason why you should add \nanother to your acts of disobedience % \n\nDo you refrain because it is a solemn transaction ? \nFar more solemn are death, judgment, and eternity, \nfrom which, nevertheless, you cannot refrain. Do \nyou feel yourself to be too unworthy 1 But will this \nneglect make you less unworthy? A sense of un- \nworthiness is a grand part of the qualification. Are \nyou afraid of sinning, should you in this way remem- \nber Christ ? But you are certain of sinning by not \nremembering him. Say you, \" I cannot trust my- \nself?\" But can you not trust Christ? If there is \ndanger that you will prove faithless, yet is there any \n\n\n\n48 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ndanger that he will 1 It is because you are not to \nbe trusted, that you should trust him who is able to \nkeep that which is committed to him. If you trust \nhim for strength, you are as sure of- being supplied \nas of being pardoned, if you trust him for that. \nWhy should not you remember Christ \\ He remem- \nbers you — yes, practically remembers you ; nor one \nthing merely does in remembrance of you, but many. \nWhat if he should make excuses for not remember- \ning you ? \n\nBut perhaps you will cut short the interview by \nsaying, \" I am now quite unprepared for this act ; \nhereafter I mean to attend to it.\" Be it known to \nyou, then, that there are greater things for which \nyou are unprepared, and they are things which you \ncannot evade or defer, as you can this ; and as to that \nhereafter on which you count, who art thou that \nboastest of to-morrow ? \n\n\n\n8. I don't like Professions. \n\nThis is the reason which many give for not ac- \nknowledging Christ. They say, when urged upon the \npoint, that they \" don't like professions.\" A strange \nreason this for not obeying the express command of \nthe Divine Savior ! What if they do not like pro- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 49 \n\nfcssions, do they equally dislike obeying commands? \nIf so, they had better say, \" I don't like obedience to \nthe commands of God.\" But they profess to be \nwell disposed to obey: it is only to professing that \nthey object. Well, then, let them obey all the pre- \ncepts Avhich they find in the Bible, and we will not \ntrouble them about a profession. Why should we? \nIn that case they will obey the precept which enjoins \na profession ; they will do the thing appointed in re- \nmembrance of Christ. \n\nBut \" I don't like professions.\" And who does \nlike mere professions ? Who ever contended in favor \nof a man's professing to have what he has not ? Pro- \nfessions are very different from mere professions. \nSuppose a person has what he professes to have, \nwhat then ? What is the objection to a profession in \nthat case ? I see none. If a man loves the Lord Jesus, \nI can see no harm in his professing or declaring his \nattachment to him. It is very natural to declare it. \nWe profess attachment to others — to relatives, friends, \nbenefactors, pastors, civil rulers. Why not to Christ ? \nHow does his being the subject of the profession con- \nstitute such an objection to it ? Is he the only being \nto whom we may not profess attachment ? \n\n\"Don't like professions?\" Why yes, they do. \nProfessions of friendship, of patriotism, and of loyal- \nty they like. Why not of religion ? Why should \nnot religion be professed as well as other things ? \nAre attachment to the Gospel, love to Christ, regard \n5 \n\n\n\n50 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nfor the authority of Jehovah, and adherence to his \ngovernment, the only things never to be professed? \nI do not see any objection to professions, but I see \npropriety and utility in them, even if it were optional \nwith us to make them or not. If it were left to our \nchoice, it strikes me, we ought to choose to profess \nlove and obedience to Christ. But suppose it is re- \nquired, does not that alter the case 1 Will these per- \nsons say they do not like what God requires % And \ndoes he not require a profession 1 His inspired apos- \ntle twice exhorts Christians to hold fast their pro- \nfession. Does not that imply that it is made, and \nought to be made 1 How is a person to hold on to \nthat of which he has never taken hold ? Is not the \npublic confession of Christ required when it is made \na condition of salvation? Rom. 10 : 9, \" If thou \nshalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and \nshalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised \nhim from the dead, thou shalt be saved.\" Does not \ndivine authority require it, when to the doing of it is \nmade one of the most precious promises in the whole \nBible % \" Whosoever therefore shall confess me be- \nfore men, him will I confess also before my Father \nwhich is in heaven.\" Is not that duty, against the \nomission of which such a threatening lies as this, \n\" But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will \nI also deny before my Father which is in heaven ?\" \nMatt. 10 : 32, 33. It is very plain that God requires \nprofessions, though some men do not like them. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 51 \n\n\"You don't like professions!\" Then Joshua, a \nman that followed the Lord fully, falls under your \ncensure, for he professed the service of God. \" As \nfor me and my house,\" said he, \" we will serve the \nLord.\" Are we to think the worse of him for this? \nSome ask what is the use of a profession. If they \nwill observe what followed Joshua's profession, they \nwill see the use of it. They will see that it brought \nout all Israel. \" We will also serve the Lord,\" said \nthey, and they entered that day into a covenant to \nserve him. Nor did their practice belie their profes- \nsion, for it is recorded that \" Israel served the Lord \nall the days of Joshua, and all the days of the Elders \nthat overlived Joshua.\" So much for a profession. \nIt is agreed on all hands that that professing gene- \nration, in piety and devotion to God, surpassed any \nother during the national existence of Israel. \n\nWe read in 1 Tim. 2 : 10, of certain things which \nare said to become \" women professing godliness.\" \nIt would seem from this to be the duty of women to \nprofess godliness. And if of women, of men also, I \nsuppose. What case of real subjection to the Gospel \nof Christ do we read of, which was not also a case \nof \" professed subjection\" to it? Paul, in 2 Cor. 9 : \n13, speaks of some who glorified God for the \" pro- \nfessed subjection\" of others unto the Gospel of Christ. \nIt appears then that God is glorified by these pro- \nfessions. And I should presume, from certain pas- \nsages in the Bible, that he is not glorified when a \n\n\n\n52 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nprofession is withheld. There were in primitive \ntimes some who did not like professions. It is no \nnew thing not to like professions. In John, 12 : 42, \n43, we read that \" among the chief rulers many be- \nlieved on him, but\" as they did not like professions, \n\" because of the Pharisees they did not confess him — \nfor they loved the praise of men more than the praise \nof God.\" It is no honorable mention which is in- \ntended to be made of another, of whom it is said that \nhe was \" a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of \nthe Jews.\" John, 19 : 38. Fear made him decline \na profession for a time ; but at length he came out \nopenly on the side of Christ, and besought Pilate \nfor the body of Jesus. \n\nIf they who say they do not like professions, \nmean that they do not like false, or loud, or ostenta- \ntious, or barely verbal professions, let them say so, \nand we will agree with them ; but let them not mean \nthis, and say, without qualification, they \" don't like \nprofessions.\" \n\nIt is truly strange, because some now, as in apos- \ntolic times, \" profess that they know God, but in \nworks deny him,\" that others will never profess to \nknow him. Because men have professed friend- \nship, and have proved no friends, therefore they will \nnot only not profess friendship, but they will abstain \nfrom certain acts and expressions of friendship, be- \ncause they involve a profession of it ! It is a pity \nthat men who are going to give an account of them- \nselves to God. should reason and act thus. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 53 \n\nWell, they must do as they please ; but of one thing \nI am sure. The hour is coming - , when, however \nthey may now dislike professions, they will like \nthem. They may not now like to confess Christ \nbefore men, but they will then like to have Christ \nconfess them before his Father. They may not like \nto call him now the beloved of their souls, but they \nwill like to have him call them, on that day, the \nblessed of his Father. \n\n\n\n9. Are you a Sabbath School Teacher? \n\n[ am a little apprehensive that the title of this ar- \nticle will be read by some who will give no hearing \nto the article itself. There are those, who, being pro- \nfessors of religion, or at least well disposed thereto, \nare not Sabbath School teachers, and yet strongly \nsuspect sometimes that they ought to be. Such are \nnot fond of reading an enumeration of the reasons \nwhy they should engage in this benevolent employ- \nment, because these reasons are apt to appear more \ncogent than their objections to it. After such a pe- \nrusal, they are very prone to feel as if they ought to \ntake hold of this good work, and not being prepared \nto do that, it is rather more agreeable to them not to \nhave the feeling that they ought. It is uncomforta- \n5* \n\n\n\n54 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nble to carry about with one a sense of obligation \nwhich he is not disposed to discharge. \n\nBut I hope my apprehensions will be disappoint- \ned : so I proceed to the article. Are you a Sabbath \nSchool teacher 1 If you are, you are engaged in a \ngood work. Yes, it is good, both as acceptable to \nGod, and as profitable to men. It is good in its di- \nrect operation, and good in its reflex action. It is not \nmerely teaching the young idea how to shoot, but, \nwhat is still more important, it is teaching the young \nand tender affection what to fix upon, and where to \nentwine itself. Nothing hallows the Sabbath more \nthan the benevolent employment of the Sabbath \nSchool teacher. It is more than lawful to do such \ngood on the Sabbath day. It has great reward. Con- \ntinue to be a Sabbath School teacher. Be not weary \nin this well-doing. Do not think you have served \nlong enough in the capacity of teacher, until you \nhave served life out, or until there shall be no need \nof one saying to another, \" Know the Lord.\" What \nif it be laborious ? It is the labor of love, in the \nvery fatigue of which the soul finds refreshment. \n\nBut perhaps you are not a Sabbath School teacher. \n\" No, I am not,\" methinks I hear one say. \" I am \nnot a professor of religion. You cannot expect me \nto be a teacher.\" You ought to be both, and your \nnot being the first is but a poor apology for declining \nto be the other. The neglect of one obligation is a \nslim excuse for the neglect of another. You seem \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 55 \n\nto admit that if you professed religion, it would be \nyour duty to teach in the Sabbath School. Now, \nwhose fault is it that you do not profess religion ? \nBut I see no valid objection to your teaching a class \nof boys or girls how to read the word of God, though \nyou be not a professor of religion. I cannot think \nthat any person gets harm by thus doing good. Ex- \nperience has shown that the business of teaching in \nthe Sabbath School is twice blessed — blessing the \nteacher as well as the taught. \n\nBut you are \" not good enough,\" you say. Then \nyou need so much the more the reaction of such an \noccupation to make you better. The way to get good \nis to do it. \" But I am not a young person.\" And \nwhat if you are not ? You need not be very young \nin order to be a useful Sabbath School teacher. We \ndon't want mere novices in the Sabbath School. If \nyou are not young, then you have so much more ex- \nperience to assist you in the work. Do Sabbath \nSchool teachers become superannuated so much \nearlier in life than any other class of benefactors — \nso much sooner than ministers and parents ? There \nis a prevailing mistake on this subject. \n\nBut you are married, you say. And what if you \nare 1 Because you have married a wife or a hus- \nband, is that any reason why you should not come \ninto the Sabbath School ? Many people think that \nas soon as they are married, they are released from \nthe obligation of assisting in the Sabbath School. \n\n\n\n56 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nBut I do not understand this to be one of the immu- \nnities of matrimony. As well might they plead that \nin discharge of the obligation to every species of \ngood-doing. Such might, at least, postpone this \napology till the cares of a family have come upon \nthem. And even then, perhaps, the best disposition \nthey could make of their children on the Sabbath, \nwould be to take them to the school. I wonder how \nmany hours of the Sabbath are devoted to the in- \nstruction of their children by those parents who \nmake the necessity of attending to the religious cul- \nture of their families an apology for not entering \nthe Sabbath School ; and I wonder if their children \ncould not be attended to in other hours than those \nusually occupied in Sabbath School instruction ; and \nthus, while they are not neglected, other children, \nwho have no parents that care for their soul, receive \na portion of their attention. I think this not impos- \nsible. But perhaps the wife pleads that she is no \nlonger her own, and that her husband's wishes are \nopposed to her continuing a teacher. But has she \nceased to be her Lord's by becoming her husband's? \nDoes the husband step into all the rights of a Sa- \nvior over his redeemed ? If such an objection is \nmade, it is very clear that she has not regarded the \ndirection to marry \" only in the Lord.\" \n\nBut perhaps you say, \" There are enough others \nto teach in the Sabbath School. \" There would not \nbe enough — there would not be any, if all were like \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 57 \n\nyou. But it is a mistake ; there are not enough \nothers. You are wanted. Some five or six children, \nof whom Christ has said, \" Suffer them to come to \nme,\" will grow up without either learning or reli- \ngion, unless you become a teacher. Are all the \nchildren in the place where you live gathered into \nthe Sabbath School ? Are there none that still wan- \nder on the Lord's day, illiterate and irreligious % Is \nthere a competent number of teachers in the exist- \ning schools, so that more would rather be in the way \nthan otherwise 1 I do not know how it is where you \nlive, but where I live, there are boys and girls enough, \naye, too many, who go to no Sabbath School. It is \nonly for a teacher to go out on the Sabbath, and he \nreadily collects a class of children willing to attend ; \nand where I reside, there are not teachers enough \nfor the scholars already collected. Some classes are \nwithout a teacher, and presently the children stay \naway, because, they say, they come to the school, \nand there is no one to attend to them. He w r ho said, \n\" Suffer the little children to come unto me, and for- \nbid them not,\" knows this ; and he knows who of \nH his sacramental host\" might take charge of these \nchildren, and do not. They say every communion \nseason, \" Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?\" and \nthe Lord replies, \" Suffer the little children to come \nto me,\" and there the matter ends. \n\nI visited recently an interesting school, composed \nof colored adults and children. It is taught partly \n\n\n\n58 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nby white persons, and partly by intelligent colored \npersons. It is languishing now for want of teach- \ners. There were present some twenty-five or thirty \nfemales, and only two female teachers. I wondered \nto see no more than two there of those who were last \nat the cross and first at the sepulchre. I thought it \na little out of character. One of these told me that \noften there had been forty present, but as two could \nnot attend to them all, they had gradually become \ndiscouraged, and had dropped off one after another. \nThey found they must give up learning to read, \nthough they wanted very much to learn to read the \nBible. Some large classes of fine looking boys sat \nthere without any teacher. No man cared for them. \nI said it was a pity, but I thought it was a shame. \nThe church with which this school is connected, \nabounds in able-bodied, professors of religion, who \ncould easily supply this want. But they don't do it. \nThey say they caiHt ; but the truth is, they wont. \nI know some have an antipathy to the colored ; but, \nas I suppose, they are comprehended in that \" world \" \nof which we read, John, 3:16, that God loved it, \nand certainly in that \" whole world,\" of which we \nread, 1st John, 2 : 2, as connected with Christ's pro- \npitiation, I have none. As for those, however, who \nare so much more fastidious than their Lord, there \nare white children enough to employ them. \n\nBut I hear one say, \" I was once a teacher;\" and \ndo you not blush to own that you became weary in \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 59 \n\nthis species of well-doing? \"But I think I taught \nlong enough.\" How long did you teach? Till \nthere were no more to learn ? Till you could teach \nno longer ? Are you dead ? If not, you are resting \nfrom your labors rather prematurely. This excuse \nresembles one which I heard of, as from a lady of \nwealth, who, having for several years been a sub- \nscriber to the Bible Society, at length ordered her \nname to be striken off, alleging that she thought she \nhad done her pari; towards disseminating the Bible ! \nThe world was not supplied ; O no, not even the \ncountry ; and her means were not exhausted. But \nshe had done her part. Had she done what she could ? \nThe woman whom Jesus commended had \" done \nwhat she could.\" But this is a digression. \n\nBut one says, \" I want the Sabbath for myself — \nfor rest and for improvement.\" And who does not? \nAre you busily employed all the week ? So are \nsome of our most faithful teachers. You ought to \nbe \"diligent in business\" during the days of the \nweek. \" Six days shalt thou labor.\" \"But is there \nany rest in Sabbath School teaching?\" The soul \nfinds some of its sweetest rest in the works of mercy, \nand often its richest improvement in the care to im- \nprove others. \n\nBut perhaps you say, though with some diffi- \ndence you express this objection, that you belong to \na circle in society whose members are not accus- \ntomed to teach in the Sabbath School. Do you mean \n\n\n\n50 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthat you are above the business ? You must be ex- \nceedingly elevated in life to be above the business of \ngratuitously communicating the knowledge of God \nto the young and ignorant. You must be exalted \nabove the very throne of God itself, if you are above \ncaring for poor children. \"But I should have to \nmino-le with those beneath me in rank.\" Ah, 1 sup- \nposed that Christianity has destroyed the distinction \nof rank, not indeed by depressing any, but by ele- \nvating all. Should Christians, all cleansed by the \nsame blood and spirit, treat other Christians as \n\ncommon?- \n\n« But I am not qualified to teach.\" If you are \nnot in reality, you should undertake teaching for the \nsake of learning. The best way to learn anything, \nis to teach it. If you only think yourself not quali- \nfied, your very humility goes far towards qualify- \ning you. § . if \n- O, it is too laborious. There is so much seU- \ndenial in it\" And do I hear a disciple of Christ \ncomplaining of labor and self-denial, when these \nare among the very conditions of cliscipleship ? Is \nthe disciple above his master? Can you follow \nChrist without going where he went? And went \nhe not about doing good ? Pleased he himself? \n\nAh, I know what is the reason of this deficiency \nof Sabbath School teachers, and I will speak it out. \nIt is owing to a deplorable want of Christian bene- \nvolence in them who profess to be Christ's follow- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 61 \n\ners. They lack the love that is necessary to engage \none in this labor of love. They have no heart for \nthe work. \n\n\n\n10. Do yon attend the Monthly Concert 1 \n\nI would like to have this piece read, though I \nknow very well that many of those I ask to read it, \ncould themselves write a better article on the same \nsubject. I am a little afraid that some who do not \nattend the Monthly Concert, will read the heading \nof the article and then turn to something else, pre- \nsumed to be more interesting. As that, however, \nwill look very much like a desire to evade the light, \nand an unwillingness to hear why we should at- \ntend the Concert, I hope they will, through dread \nof that imputation, conclude to read the whole ar- \nticle. I cannot doubt they have their reasons for \nnot attending, and I promise that if they will have \nthem printed, I will carefully read them, provided \nthey will read my reasons in favor of attendance. \n\nI put a question. I put it not to every body. I \nask it not of the world, for the Avorld is the object of \nthe Concert, and cannot be expected therefore to \njoin in it. I put it to the professor of religion — the \nreputed disciple of Christ. I ask him if he attends \n6 \n\n\n\n62 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthe Monthly Concert ? He knows what I mean by \nthat phrase — the meeting for prayer attended by \nChristians on the first Monday in each month, in \nwhich they offer their social supplications for the \nsuccess of missions, the spread of the Gospel, and \nthe conversion of the world to God. All the mem- \nbers of the church do not attend it. The half do \nnot. No. The Concert has not yet secured the \nmajority of the church. Even \"the sacramental \nhost \" are not as yet in favor of the conversion of \nthe world, if attendance on the Monthly Concert \nmay be made the test, as I think with the utmost \npropriety it may ; for surely he cannot have much \nof a desire for the world's conversion who will not \nmeet once a month to express it in concert with other \nChristians. And this, I suppose, is the principal \nreason why the world is not converted, because the \nprayer-meetings of the church bear testimony that \neven she is not heartily in favor of it. O, when will \nthe question, \" Shall the world be converted ?\" be \nput to the church, and carried in the affirmative? \nThere will be joy in heaven when that result is re- \nported there ; and then the work of the world's con- \nversion will go rapidly forward, and nations be born \nin a day. Now, do you join in the concert, or are \nyou one of those who make discord ? \n\nMany professors can say they do attend. I am \nglad so many can say it. You attend, but let me \nask, do you love to attend ? O ! if you leave your \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 63 \n\nhearts at home, that is bad. We want the heart at \nthe Monthly Concert. It spoils all if we have not \nthe heart there to send up to heaven its sincere de- \nsires. \" Prayer,\" you know, \" is the heart's sin- \ncere desire.\" You attend, but do you attend habitu- \nally ; or is it only occasionally that you go ? Do \nyou attend twelve times a year, if Providence inter- \npose no obstacle ? It is a Monthly Concert. It is \nintended that Christians should meet and pray to- \ngether at least once a month. There are professors \nof religion who attend the Concert sometimes, per- \nhaps on an average once in three months, and they \nthink that is doing tolerably well. But what if \nothers should do so ! Then it would be no Monthly \nConceit, but a Quarterly Concert ; and such it should \nbe now to suit the practice of too many of the church. \nBut I think once a month, or twelve times a year, is \nnot too often for Christians to meet together to pray, \n\"Our Father thy kingdom come.\" As a Chris- \ntian, I feel that it is not too often, and I think, if I \nwas a heathen, and knew all that is involved in be- \ning a heathen, I should feel like being prayed for \nby Christians at least once a month. O ! it is not \ntoo often, either for us who pray, or for those for \nwhom we pray. Then, fellow Christians, let us \nattend every month, bringing along with us each \none a heart touched with gratitude, melted into pity, \nfervent with love, full of faith, and as sure as we \nlive, we shall bless and be blessed. \n\n\n\n64 \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n\" But they say it is not an interesting meeting.\" \nI don't know why it should be uninteresting to \nChristians. Is it because it is a prayer meeting ; \nor because it is a prayer meeting for others ? Does \nit lack interest because there is no preaching, and \nthe very prayers are not for ourselves ? Will the \ndisciple of Jesus make this confession? Will he \nacknowledge that it takes away the interest of a \nmeeting, when its character is so devotional, and its \nobject so benevolent ? It has been asked, \" How shall \nwe contrive to make the Monthly Concert interest- \ning to the people?\" It is only the people them- \nselves that can make it interesting. Let them come \nto it. Let the members of the church appear in \ntheir places on that evening. Let conscience bring \nthem, if inclination does not, and let him who is to \npreside in the meeting be cheered by the aspect of a \nfull assembly, and the interest of the Monthly Con- \ncert is secured without the laying down of rules and \nobservance of minute directions. Who ever found \na well attended concert for prayer uninteresting ? \n\nBut, one says, it sometimes rains, and I cannot at- \ntend. I know it sometimes rains, but do you never \ngo out in the rain for any purpose 1 O Christian, \nif for anything you ever go through the rain, go \nthrough the rain to the Monthly Concert. I sus- \npect the rain does not hinder you from fulfilling an \nimportant engagement with a fellow creature. Now, \nI know that you have not specifically engaged to \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 65 \n\nmeet God at the Monthly Concert ; but there are \nvows on you which, I am sure, include this. Are \nyou not one of those who say, \" Lord, what wilt thou \nhave me to do?\" waiting for his answer? His an- \nswer comprehends many things, and among them \nis this. Indeed, I think the duty of attending the \nMonthly Concert is included in the general obliga- \ntion to go \" into all the world,\" and \" teach all na- \ntions •\" and you consented to it when you made the \nfull surrender. Therefore let not trifles detain you \nat home on the evening of the church's concert of \nprayer for the world. But if by necessity detained — \nif you go not, because on such a night you would go \nout for no purpose whatever, you can spend the hour \nin the closet praying for the world. That you will \nnot fail to do. The closet is accessible in all wea- \nther. If you cannot go out to the prayer meeting, \nyet you can \" enter into thy closet,\" and though your \nprayer will be a solo, it will be as grateful to God \nas the concert of others. \n\nBut some professors of religion never attend the \nMonthly Concert ! What I propose to say to them \nI must reserve for another article. \n\n\n\n6* \n\n\n\n66 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n11. Why all Christians should attend the Month- \nly Concert. \n\nIt is a fact well known and deeply deplored, that \nsome professors of religion never attend the Monthly- \nConcert. Perhaps they never attend any of the pray- \ner-meetings of the church. It is not for me to say \nthat such persons have no religion, though I must \ngo so far as to say that I do not see how they can \nhave a great deal. Nor does their religion appear to \nbe of the kind contemplated in the New Testament. \nThey may be Christians, but I am certain they are \nnot primitive Christians. I do not, for my part, see \nhow those who never meet with their fellow disciples \nfor social prayer, can be acquitted of contemning that \ngracious promise of Christ, \" If two of you shall \nagree on earth as touching any thing that they shall \nask, it shall be done for thern of my Father which is \nin heaven.\" What an encouragement to concerts of \nprayer is conveyed in those words, \" if two of you \nshall agree /\" How can they be supposed to love the \npresence of the Savior, who are not desirous to meet \nhim \" where two or three are gathered together in his \nname !\" If such disciples had existed at that time, of \ncourse they would not have attended the meetings \nfor prayer which preceded the memorable day of \nPentecost. They would not have gone to the \" upper \nroom.\" Perhaps they would have made some ex- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 67 \n\ncuse for their absence. Perhaps not. One might \nhave said that he could not bear the air of a crowd- \ned room. Another, that he did not see why he could \nnot pray as well at home. There were no such de- \nspisers of the prayer meeting among the primitive \ndisciples. They all frequented the upper room, \" and \nall continued with one accord in prayer and suppli- \ncation.\" O that it were so now ! Fellow disciples of \nthe blessed Jesus, listen to a few plain reasons why \nwe should all attend the Monthly Concert. \n\n1. It is a meeting of Christians. Should you not \nmeet with Christians ? God has made you social be- \nings ; and Christians are the best company. Should \nyou not cultivate that kind of society on earth, with \nwhich you are to be associated for ever in heaven ? \nThe same class of persons — they that feared the \nLord — used to meet together in the days of Mala- \nchi; and the Lord noted it down. Come then to the \nConcert. \n\n2. It is a meeting of Christians for religious wor- \nship. The Concert is a sacred assembly. It invites \nnot merely to mutual intercourse, but to intercourse \nwith God and heaven. In it we meet one with ano- \nther, that we may together meet the Lord ; and if he \nkept a book of remembrance for them who feared \nhim, and who met for conference with each other, \nwill he not much more for those who meet for com- \nmunion with himself? \n\n3. It is the most interesting kind of religious meet- \n\n\n\n\n\n\n68 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ning. It is a prayer meeting. Its exercises consist in \nprayer interspersed with praise. The song of grati- \ntude and supplication of blessing ascend alternately. \n\nit is good to be there ! What Christian but loves \nthe prayer meeting ! \n\n4. It is the most interesting of all prayer meetings. \n\n1 had rather be absent from arly other than from this. \nThink how large a concert it is — how many Voices \njoin in it, and hearts still more ! From how many \nlands — in how many languages they pray, yet with \none desire, and for a single object. Think of that \nobject — its unity, its grandeur, its benevolence — a \nworld lying in wickedness — the speedy conversion \nof that world to God! In the Monthly Concert Chris- \ntians meet to express together to their God this one \ngreat benevolent desire. And ought not you to bo \nthere ? \n\nBut what gives the greatest interest to the Concert \nis, that Christ himself in substance established it. \nYes, he has taught us so to pray. His disciples \nasked him how they should pray, and he answered \nthat they should pray socially for the conversion of the \nworld, viz. that they should meet under circumstan- \nces which would justify the use of the plural num- \nber, \" Our Father,\" &c. and thus met, that they \nshould pray together, \" Thy kingdom come. Thy \nwill be done on earth as it is in heaven.\" Now, is \nnot this just what we do in the Monthly Concert ? \nWe put in practice that lesson of Christ on prayer \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 69 \n\nThat is the amount of it. The missionary concert \nhas then the sanction of the Master, however some \nof his professed disciples may regard it. Is it so ? \nThen I ask not, will you come to the Concert, but \nhow can you stay away ? \n\n5. It is good to draw near to God in prayer for a \nguilty and dying world. Christians find it so. If \nthey benefit no others, yet they benefit themselves. \nGod bestows blessing on them while they implore \nblessing for others. \n\n6. It is kind to the poor heathen thus to meet once \na month and pray that they may possess the same \nGospel of the grace of God, which has brought sal- \nvation to us. If we were in their situation, and \nknew what it was to be in such a situation, we \nshould wish Christians to pray for us. And shall \nnot we, being Christians, pray for them 1 The gol- \nden rule requires it. The love of Christ constrains \nto it. How shall we not pray for them % How shall \nI be able to answer for it, I say not to God, but to \nmy poor pagan brother that I shall meet before the \nbar of our common Judge, if I let him go into eter- \nnity without even praying that the light of the Gos- \npel may illuminate his dark mind ? How shall I be \nable to bear his reproachful recognition of me as a \nChristian ? I will take care not to lie under the ac- \ncusation. I will pray for him. \n\n7. Nothing so cheers the hearts of our mission- \naries, and nothing so encourages them in their work, \n\n\n\n70 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nas when they hear of well attended Concerts. So \nthey tell us ; and they write back that nothing they \nmeet with on the field of their labors depresses and \ndiscourages them so much as the intelligence they \nreceive from home, that Christians neglect the Month- \nly Concert, and few of the churches meet to pray for \nthem. They know that they cannot succeed with- \nout God, and they know that it is prayer which en- \ngages God to work effectually with them. O, if we \ncould but send them word by the next ships that go, \nthat Christians in crowds come up to the missionary \nprayer meeting, and the place of the Monthly Con- \ncert is thronged; they would be able, I have no doubt, \nto send us word back, perhaps by those very ships \nreturning, that the heathen in crowds gather around \nthem inquiring the way of salvation, and that many \nhave gone even unto Christ, and become partakers \nof his grace. But in vain shall we expect to hear \nvery cheering intelligence from them, while the in- \ntelligence they receive from us is no more cheering. \nO, it is base treatment of our missionary brethren and \nsisters, as well as gross dereliction of the duty im- \nposed by the Savior's last command, not to meet and \npray for them. \n\nBut why should I multiply reasons? Will you \nnot attend henceforth ? If, after all, you will not, I \ncan only say I am sorry — sorry on two accounts \n— sorry for the heathen, and sorry for you. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 71 \n\n\n\n19. \"Will any Christian be absent from the next \nConcert I \n\nThe Monthly Concert of prayer for the success of \nMissions and the salvation of the Avorld. I wonder, \nindeed, that any Christian is ever voluntarily absent \nfrom that prayer meeting ; but, from that of Monday \nnext, what Christian, that is a Christian, can of choice \nabsent himself? Why 1 What particular attraction \nwill there be in the next Concert, that a Christian \nshould attend that, if never another ? Do you ask 1 \nCan you not imagine % Have you not heard the news \nbrought by the last ship from eastern and southern \nAsia % When came a ship so freighted with tidings ? \nMorrison is dead. What Christian will not go to \nthe next Concert, if for no other reason, to offer praise \nto God that Morrison lived, and lived so long, and \nwas enabled to accomplish the magnificent work of \ntranslating the word of God into the language read \nand spoken by one third of human kind ? \n\nBut that is not all the news the ship brought. It \ncame fraught with heavy tidings. How many tears \nhave already been shed at the recital, tears of grief \nfor the dead, and tears of sympathy for the living — \nthe widows — and the mothers, for one, perhaps each, \nleft a mother. Lyman and Munson, in the flower \nof their youth, and on the threshhold of their labors, \nhave fallen, not the subject of nature's gradual decay, \nnor by some fell eastern disease, but the victims of \n\n\n\n72 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nviolence, the food of cannibals ! This is something \nnew. We have never before had intelligence like \nthis from our missionary fields. We have never had \nso loud a call in Providence to the Concert. What \nChristian will not obey it, and go on Monday to weep \nas well as praise, and to mingle with tears and \npraises, prayer for those poor brutal men that did \nthe deed, and for them whose hearts it has so deep- \nly stricken? And what Christian, who properly es- \ntimates his privileges, and duly regards his obliga- \ntions, will not, on that occasion, let fall some drops \nof sorrow for his past remissness in praying for Mis- \nsionaries ? \n\nI have said to myself since I heard of this outrage, \n\" So much for not attending the Monthly Concert — \nso much for not praying more for Missionaries.\" I \nmay be mistaken. The reader will judge. But so it \nhas struck me. The church sent out these Mission- \naries, and many more than half of her reruted chil- \ndren have never met to pray for them ! Whether the \nsame remembered them in the closet and around the \nfireside I cannot say, but I fear they did not. \n\nThere is one most touching part of the melancholy \ntale. It is related that one of the Missionaries, I hope \nwe shall never know which it was, was killed and \neaten first, the other being compelled to be a specta- \ntor of the whole savage ceremony, with the know- \nledge that he was reserved for a similar fate. How \nhe must have felt ! Poor dear brother, I fear we never \n\n\n\n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 73 \n\nprayed for thee as we ought. You could go from \ncountry, and home, and mother, to seek a spot in sa- \nvage Sumatra to plant the cross and preach Jesus, \nwhile wc could not once a month leave our firesides \nlong enough just to go and pray for you, that God \nwould protect you and give you favor in the sight of \nthe heathen. O this neglect of the Monthly Concert \nis a cruel thing ! This forgetfulness to pray for Mis- \nsionaries, how dwelleth the love of God in the same \nheart with it ? Perhaps this was one of the multitude \nof thoughts that passed through his mind while he \nwaited to be sacrificed, and while he perceived that \nGod, though with him to support and to save him, \nwas not with him to protect him from the fierceness \nof man. Perhaps he thought, \" O if Christians had \nbeen more uniformly and earnestly mindful of us in \nthe closet, the family, and the Concert, the hand that \nho'ds even the savage heart, might have turned it to \npity, and spared us. But his will be done. Bitter as \nis the cup we drink, it is not so bitter as the cup that \nwas drank for us.\" Let us all go to the coming Con- \ncert, and humble ourselves together ; and from his \nhumiliation let each pray, \" Deliver me from blood- \nguiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation.\" \n\n\n\n\n\n\nf4 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n13. How Came it to Pass \n\n\n\nThat three thousand were converted on the day \nof Pentecost — how came it to pass 1 The truth as \nit is in Jesus was preached, and the power of God \naccompanied and made the truth effectual. But had \nnot the meeting- for prayer, of which mention is made \nin Acts, 1:14, a close and influential connection \nwith the glorious results of that day and that dis- \ncourse ? Undoubtedly it had. But what was there \nin that meeting of the hundred and twenty disciples, to \nexert an influence to the conversion of three thousand \nindividuals 1 Whence had it that power ? I answer, \nit was a prayer meeting — professedly and mainly a \nprayer meeting. If it had been a meeting for preach- \ning, it would not have exerted the influence it did, \neven though prayer had preceded and followed the \nsermon. It was a prayer meeting — a meeting of \nChristians to express their dependence on God ; \nunitedly to call on him for his blessing ; to plead \nthe promise, and to wait for the fulfillment of it. \nThose are the efficient meetings, in which Chris- \ntians meet and agree to ask of God. I wonder they \ndo not value them more. To the prayer meeting \nChristians come, to exercise the high privilege of in- \ntercession for others — to do good and to communi- \ncate — to act the \" more blessed \" part ; whereas, to \nmeetings of another kind, they go for the less bene- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 75 \n\nvolent purpose of receiving good. Yet Christians \nvalue no meetings so little as prayer meetings ! \nAnd, O shame, no prayer meeting do they value so \nlittle as that which Christ himself may be said to \nhave established in saying, \" When ye pray, say, \nOur Father which art in heaven ; hallowed be thy \nname; thy kingdom come\" — the Monthly Concert. \nThough it occur but once a month, and though our \nSavior, in the prayer he has given us, has expressly \ninstructed us to pray socially for the conversion of \nthe world, yet how attended ! I pity the heathen, \nthat so few are disposed to meet to pray for them. \nFor the church, I blush that it should be so. \n\nBut the influence of that meeting of a hundred and \ntwenty was not owing entirely to its being a prayer \nmeeting. Many meetings for prayer are held, and \nno such effects follow. There must have been some- \nthing peculiar about that prayer meeting, to account \nfor its efficacy. There was much by which it was \ndistinguished from ordinary prayer meetings. The \nmention of some of these peculiarities may be of \nservice. It may provoke imitation in some churches. \n\n1. All the church attended that prayer meeting. \n\" These all continued,\" &c. There were but a hun- \ndred and twenty disciples, and they were all present. \nNot a member of the, church was absent, unless pro- \nvidentially detained. How different is it now ! Now, \nif so many as a hundred and twenty can be collected \nin a prayer meeting, yet they represent perhaps a \n\n\n\n76 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nchurch of five or six hundred communicants, and all \nthe rest are with one accord absent. They who \nmeet may agree among themselves to ask for an \noutpouring of the Spirit, but it is, after all, but the \nagreement of a minority of the chuich. The majo- \nrity, by their absence, dissent from the request. \n\n2. As all attended, of course the men attended as \nwell as the women. Yes, every male member of \nthe church was present ; and I suppose the males \nwere more than one half of the whole number. \nThey did not leave it to the women to sustain the \nprayer meetings. That prayer meeting had not the \naspect of many a modern prayer meeting, in which \nalmost all are of the weaker sex. \n\n3. The most distinguished members of the church \nattended, as well as the most obscure. There were \nall the apostles, and \" Mary the mother of Jesus,\" \nand \" his brethren.\" None of them felt above being \nat a prayer meeting. How is it now? Let that \nquestion answer itself. \n\n4. They were all agreed — \" of one accord,\" as \nit is said. Not merely agreed as touching what \nthey should ask, viz. the fulfillment of \" the promise \nof the Father,\" but of one mind generally — aye, and \nof one heart. They thought and felt alike. They \nall loved one another. They observed the new com- \nmandment. Such cordial union among Christians \nhas great power with God. It does not always exist \nin our prayer meetings. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. ft \n\n5. They persevered in prayer. \" These all conti- \nnued in prayer.\" First they stirred themselves up to \ntake hold on God, and then they said, \" We will not \nlet thee go, except thou bless us.\" They met often \nfor prayer, and all met, and they lingered long at \nthe throne of grace. There were not some who \ncame to the meeting once for a wonder, or only occa- \nsionally. No ; \" these all continued\" &c. It is not \nso now. But how long did they continue asking % \nUntil they obtained; and then they did but pass \nfrom the note of prayer to that of praise. They \nsought the Lord until he came. It is time we all \nshould do it. They were together — holding meet- \ning — when the Spirit descended. \n\nI think if all our church members would habitu- \nally attend the prayer meetings, men as well as wo- \nmen, rich as well as poor, and be \"of one accord\" \nin heart, as well as in judgment, and would continue \nin prayer, they would not wait in vain for \" the pro- \nmise of the Father.\" O for such prayer meetings ! \nBut now they are despised by many. How often \nwe hear it said, It is nothing but a prayer meeting! \nNothing but ! I should like, for my part, to know \nwhat surpasses a prayer meeting. And often on what \nunworthy conditions do those called Christians sus- \npend their attendance. They must know who is to \nconduct the meeting, who will probably lead in \nprayer, and from whom a word of exhortation may \nbe expected ; and if the meeting is not likely to be \n\n\n\n78 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nto their mind, they will not attend it. This thing \nought not so to be. \n\n\n\n14. Why the World is not Converted. \n\nThe world is not converted. The melancholy- \nfact stares us in the face. Yet the world is to be \nconverted. That delightful truth shines conspicu- \nous on the pages of the Bible. Why is it not already- \nconverted 1 It ought to have been converted ere this. \nEighteen centuries ago it was well nigh converted. \nBut now the world is far, very far from being con- \nverted. It \"lieth in wickedness.\" What is the \nmeaning of it ? Why is it not converted ? Whose is \nthe fault ? Look not up to heaven with the inquiry, \nas if the reason was to be found there, among the \nmysteries of the eternal Mind. Look elsewhere. The \nfact we deplore results not from any lack of benevo- \nlent disposition in God. No. \" God so loved the \nworld, that he gave his only begotten Son, that who- \nsoever belie veth in him should not perish, but have \neverlasting life.\" What could he have felt or done \nmore ? The object of his love, the world — its gift, \nhis Son ! Could it have been more comprehensive. \nor more munificent ? Nor is the reason found in \nany deficiency in the atonement made by Christ, for \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 79 \n\nhe is the propitiation \"for the sins of the whole \nworld\" the Lamb of God who \" taketh away the sin \nof the world.\" Nor is it owing to any limitation in \nthe commission of the Holy Spirit ; for of him it is \ntestified, that when he should come, he should \" re- \nprove the world of sin \" : and the commission to the \nhuman agents of the work was as extensive, \" Go \nye into all the world — preach the Gospel to every \ncreature — teach all nations.\" And the promise of \nthe presence and power of Christ to be with them is \nalso without restriction. See what goes before, and \nwhat comes after that great commission. The words \nwhich precede it are, \" All power is given unto me \nin heaven and in earth.\" The words which follow, \nare, \" And lo, I am with you always, even unto the \nend of the world.\" You must look some where else \nthan upward for the reason why the world is not \nconverted. Look beneath, around, within. \n\nI propose to assign a few reasons why the world \nis not converted. \n\n1. The world does not wish to be converted. \nThat which is to be the subject of conversion, is a \nfoe to it. It resists the influence that would convert \nit to God. What means that language, \" My Spi- \nrit shall not always strive with man?\" Striving im- \nplies opposition offered. The opposition is made by \nthe will. The universal will of man resists the \nwork of the Spirit of God. And that thing, the will, \nis a tremendous obstacle opposed to conversion. It is \n\n\n\n80 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nmore than a match for all the motives you can bring \nto bear upon it. It wont move for motives. The \nLord alone can master it. O ! if the world had of \nitself been willing- to be converted, it should long ere \nthis have been brought back to God ! It is but to be \nwilling and the thing is done. \n\n2. The devil, who in the Bible is called \" the god \nof this world,\" is opposed to its conversion. Now, \nit must be very much in the way of the world's con- \nversion, that not only itself but its god is opposed to \nit. The will is a powerful foe of itself, but when \nthe will is in league with Satan, who is called the \nadversary, by way of eminence, what an enemy the \ncombination must produce ! The devil and the heart, \nwhat a formidable alliance ! Satan is sincere in his \nopposition to the conversion of the world, i. e. he is \nreally opposed to it. He does not merely pretend \nto be. And he is in earnest. His heart is in the \nwork of opposing the world's conversion — and he \ndoes all he can to prevent it. The friends of the \nconversion of the world do not all they can to pro- \nmote it. \"Would that they did ! But Satan does all \nhe can to prevent it. Ah, why cannot we do as \nmuch for Christ as his enemies do against him? \nWhy don't Christians do all they can ? Satan does \nall he can — and that is a great deal, for he was one \nof those angels \" that excel in strength,\" and though \nby his fall he lost all holiness, he lost no power. He \nis as potent as ever — possessed of very great energy, \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 81 \n\nand he exerts it all in the enterprise of opposing \nGod in the conversion of the world. And he does \nnot stand still and exert his power, but goeth \" to \nand fro in the earth.\" Yea, \"as a roaring lion, \nwalketh about, seeking whom he may devour.\" He \ndoes not icait for his prey, but hunts for it. Yet he \nhas not always the lion look, for sometimes \" Satan \nhimself is transformed into an angel of light ;\" nor \ndoes he always roar. He can let his voice down to \nthe softest whisper, which the ear he breathes it into \nalone can hear ; and Satan does not act alone. He \nis assisted by myriads of kindred spirits. They \nwere many, we are told, that possessed one man — \nyes, a legion. How many they must be in all ! and \nall engaged in the same opposition — aye, and mul- \ntitudes of men are even now in league with them, \nengaged in the devils' work as heartily as if they \nwere of that race. Is not this a strong reason why \nthe world is not converted ? Have I not given two \nsuch reasons ? But I have a stronger : \n\n3. The church is not heartily in favor of the world's \nconversion. And when I affirm this of the church, \nI refer not to those who rest in the form of godli- \nness, and have but a nominal life. No wonder the \nunconverted, though they may be members of the vi- \nsible church, should not be concerned for the con- \nversion of others. But I mean that real Christians, \nwho have themselves been converted, are not hear- \ntily in favor of it. Yes, the converted part of the \n\n\n\n82 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nworld are not heartily in favor of the conversion of \nthe great remainder ! And this is the principal rea- \nson why it is not converted. What if the world is \nnot in favor of it, and Satan is not ? It was never in- \ntended that the world should be converted by their \ninstrumentality, but in spite of their opposition ! But \nthat the church, to whom is given the commission, \nto whom is committed the instrumentality which \nGod blesses for conversion, and to whom even Christ \nlooks with expectation, should not enter into the \nwork with all her soul and strength, how strange \nand how lamentable ! I know that Christians say \nthey are in favor of it, and I will not question their \nsincerity, but I wish they gave such proof of being \nsincere and in earnest as Satan and his allies do. \nActions have a tongue, and they speak louder than \nwords. Satan's actions declare unequivocally that \nhe is a foe to the world's conversion. Do our actions \nproclaim as unequivocally that we are its friends ? \nWe say we desire the world's conversion ; but what \nsay our prayers, our contributions, our efforts, our \nconduct ? We talk as if we desired it, but do we \npray, do we contribute, do we labor, do we live as \nif we desired it? In this matter our unsupported \nword will not be received as proof. \n\nWhy, if we who love the Lord are heartily in fa- \nvor of the world's becoming his, are we so divided \namong ourselves ? The enemies of the world's con- \nversion are united. Yes, they forget their private \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 8& \n\ndifferences when the causy of Jesus is to be attacked, \nand one heart animates the whole infernal host. But \nthe friends of the great enterprise are divided, and \nmuch of their force is spent in skirmishes among \nthemselves, while the common enemy in the mean- \ntime is permitted to make an almost unresisted pro- \ngress. It is a pity, a great pity. It ought not to be \nso. The great aggressive enterprise of the world's \nconversion demands all our resources, and. yet we \nare expending them in mutual assaults. When will \nit be otherwise ? When will Christians agree on a \ntruce among themselves, and march in one mighty \nphalanx against the world, to the service to which \nthe Captain of salvation calls them ? When shall it \nonce be ? I do not know, but I do know that when. \nit takes place, the first of the thousand years will \nnot be far off \n\nFellow-soldiers of the cross ! what are we about ? \nLet us form. Let us put on our complete armor. \nSome of us are not in full panoply. And let us \nsing together one of the songs of Zion, and to that \nmusic let us march on to the conquest of the world \nfor Jesus. He is already in the field, let us hasten \nto his support. Let us go to his help against the \nmighty. Let us leave all, even our mutual dissen- \nsions, suspicions and jealousies, and follow him — \nand presently the world shall be converted. \n\n\n\n84 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n15. The Conversion of tlie Church. \n\nWe hear a great deal now-a-days about the con- \nversion of the world. It is in almost every Chris- \ntian's mouth ; and we cannot be too familiar with \nthe phrase — we cannot be too diligent to promote \nthe thing. It ought to have our daily thoughts, \nprayers, and efforts. It deserves our hearts. It is \nthe great object of Christianity. But there is ano- \nther community besides the world, which I think \nneeds to undergo a measure of the same process \nthat the world so much needs. It is the church. \nWhile the conversion of the world is made so pro- \nminent, I think we ought not to overlook the con- \nversion of the church, especially since this comes \nfirst in order. \n\nEvery thing, we know, begins at the house of \nGod, both in judgment and mercy. But what do I \nmean by the conversion of the church ? Is not the \nchurch converted already 1 Suppose I admit tha! ; \nmay she not need a new conversion % Regeneration \nis but once, but conversion may be many times. \nPeter had been converted when Christ said to him, \n\" and when thou art converted, strengthen thy breth- \nren.\" There is no doubt the church might be con- \nverted again, and that without any injury to her. \n\nBut why do I think the church needs conversion ? \nI might give several reasons, but I will assign only \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 85 \n\none. It is founueu on Matthew, 18:3: \" Except ye \nbe converted, and become as little children. 1 '' Here \nwe see the effect of conversion is to make the sub- \njects of it as little children, and hence St. John ad- \ndresses the primitive Christians as little children. \nNow my reason for thinking- the church needs con- \nversion is, that there does not seem to be much of \nthe little child about the church of the present day. \nThere is a great deal more of \"the old man\" about \nit, I am afraid. I think if John were living now, he \nwould not be apt to address the members of the \nchurch generally as \" little children.\" No indeed. \nI question whether, if he were even addressing an \nassembly of the ministers and officers of many of \nour churches, he would not be apt to apply other \nterms than \" little children\" as a preface to his ex- \nhortation \" love one another,\" which I am sure he \nwould not forget. \n\nLittle children are humble, but humility is not a \nremarkable characteristic of the church of the pre- \nsent day. I don't think the scholars of either of the \nschools have got the lesson of lowliness very per- \nfectly from their Master. I fear, if the Master Avere \nto come in upon us now, he would be likely to chide \nmany in both the schools. Why two schools ? There \nis but one Master. \n\nHow confiding little children are, and how ready \nto believe on the bare word of one in whom they \nhave reason to feel confidence, and especially if he \n8 \n\n\n\n86 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbe a father ! But not so the church. \" Thus saith \nthe Lord\" does not satisfy her sons now. They \nmust have better reasons for believing than that. \nThey must hear first what he has to say, and then \nsee if they can get a confirmation of it from any \nquarter before they will believe it. How unceremo- \nniously many of these children treat some of the \nthings which their Father very evidently says, be- \ncause they do not strike them as in accordance with \nreason, justice, or common sense ! \n\nHow docile the little child is ! Mary, who \" sat at \nJesus' feet and heard his word,\" was such a child. \nNever a why or a how asked she of him. I cannot \nsay so much for the church of our day. Simplicity \nalso characterizes little children. How open and art- \nless they are — how free from guile. Such was Na- \nthanael. Whether this trait of character be conspi- \ncuous in the church now, let the reader say. \n\nLittle children are moreover characterized by love, \nand their charity \" thinketh no evil.\" How unsus- \npicious they are ! But too much of the charity of \nthe present day, so far from thinking no evil, think- \neth no good. It suspects every body. It \" hopeth \" \nnothing. Indeed love, and her sister peace, which \nused to lead the graces, are become as w all-flowers \nwith many; into such neglect they have fallen. \nThey seem to be quite out of the question with \nmany. Some good men appear to think that con- \ntending for the faith is the end of the commandment \n\n\n\n/ \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 87 \n\nand the fulfilling- of the law. But it is not. It is a \nduty, an important duty — one too little regarded by \nmany — one never to be sneered at as by some it is. \nI acknowledge some treat it as if it were nothing. \nI\" only say it is not everything. There is walking \nin love, and following peace, which, as well as con- \ntending for the faith, are unrepealed laws of Christ's \nhouse. I believe they can all be done, and that each \nis best done when the others are not neglected. I \nam sure truth never lost any thing by being spoken \nin love. I am of opinion that a principal reason why \nwe are not more of one mind, is that we are not \nmore of one heart. How soon they who feel heart \nto heart, begin to see eye to eye ! The way to think \nalike is first to feel alike ; and if the feeling be love, \nthe thought will be truth. I wish, therefore, for the \nsake of sound doctrine, that the brethren could love \none another. What if we see error in each other to \ncondemn, can we not find any thing amiable to love ? \nI would the experiment might be made. Let us not \ncease to contend for the faith — not merely for its own \nsake, but for love's sake, because \" faith worketh by \nlove.\" But, in the conflict, let us he careful to shield \nlove. It is a victory for truth scarcely worth gain- \ning, if charity be left bleeding on the field of battle. \nYou see why I think the church wants convert- \ning. It is to bring her back to humility, and simpli- \ncity, and love. I wish she would attend to this mat- \nter. She need not relax her efforts for the world. \n\n\n\nCO PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nShe has time enough to turn a few reflex acts on \nherself. The object of the church is to make the \nworld like herself. But let her in the meantime \nmake herself more like what the world ought to be. \nIt is scarcely desirable that the world should be as \nthe church in general now is. Let her become a \nbetter model for the world's imitation. Her voice is \nheard for Christ ; but let her \" hold forth the word \nof life \" in her conduct, as well as by her voice. Let \nher light shine. Let her good works be manifest. \nLet her heaven-breathed spirit breathe abroad the \nsame spirit. \n\nThe work of the conversion of the world goes on \nslowly ; but it makes as much progress as the Avork \nof the conversion of the church does. No more sin- \nners are converted, because no more Christians are \nconverted. The world will continue to lie in wick- \nedness, while \" the ways of Zion mourn \" as they \ndo. Does any one wonder that iniquity abounds, \nwhen the love of so many has waxed cold? We are \nsending the light of truth abroad, when we have but \nlittle of the warmth of love at home. \n\nWe are often asked what we are doing for the \nconversion of the world. We ought to be doing a \ngreat deal — all we can. But I would ask, what are \nwe doing for the conversion of the church ? What \nto promote holiness nearer' home, among our fellow- \nChristians and in our own hearts ? Let us not forget \nthe world, but at the same time let us remember Zion. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 89 \n\n\n\n16. Inquiring Saints. \n\n\n\nI was asked the other day whether I had had any- \nrecent meeting- for inquirers. I replied that I had not \n— that there were few inquiring sinners in the con- \ngregation, and I judged the reason to be, that there \nwere few inquiring saints. \" Inquiring saints ! that \nis a new phrase. We always supposed that inquir- \ning belonged exclusively to sinners.\" But it is not \nso. Do we not read in Ezekiel, 36 : 37, \" Thus saith \nthe Lord God, I will yet for this be inquired of by \nthe house of Israel to do it for them ?\" By the house \nof Israel, that is, by his people — by the church. You \nsee that God requires and expects his covenanted \npeople to inquire. It is true that saints do not make \nthe same inquiry that sinners do. The latter ask \nwhat they must do to be saved, whereas the inquiry \nof Christians is, \"Wilt thou not revive us again 1 ?\" \nIt is a blessed state of things when the people of God \nare inquiring. It is good for themselves, and it has a \nmost benign influence on others. When the people \nof God inquire, presently the impenitent begin to in- \nquire. That question, \" Wilt thou not revive us ?\" \nis soon followed by the other, \" What must I do to \nbe saved ?•\" Yes, when saints become anxious, it is \nnot long ere sinners become anxious. The inquiry of \nthe three thousand on the day of Penteccst, \" Men and \nbrethren, what shall we do ?\" was preceded by the \n\n\n\n90 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ninquiry of the one hundred and twenty, who \" all \ncontinued with one accord in prayer and supplica- \ntion.\" Generally, I suppose, that is the order. First \nsaints inquire, and then sinners. And whenever, in \nany congregation, religion does not nourish, one \nprincipal reason of it is that the saints are not in- \nquiring. They do not attend their inquiry meeting \nappointed for them. The saints' inquiry meeting is \nthe prayer meeting. In that Christians meet to- \ngether to inquire of the Lord \" to do it for them,\" \nthat is, to fulfill the promise about the new heart \nand the new spirit, of which he had been speaking. \nNow, when this meeting is crowded and interesting \n— when the inquiry among Christians is general \nand earnest, and importunate, the sinners' inquiry \nmeeting usually becomes crowded and interesting. \nO that I could make my voice to be heard by all \nthe dear people of God in the land on this subject. \nI would say, \" You wonder and lament that sinners \ndo not inquire. But, are you inquiring ? You won- \nder that they do not feel. But do you feel ? Can you \nexpect a heart of stone to feel, when a heart of flesh \ndoes not ? You are surprised that sinners can sleep. \nIt is because you sleep along side of them. Do you \nbut awake, and bestir yourselves, and look up and \ncry to God, and you will see how soon they will be- \ngin to be roused, and to look about them, and to ask \nthe meaning of your solicitude.\" O that the saints \nwould but inquire ! That is what I want to see. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 91 \n\nWe hear a good deal said about the anxious seat. \nConcerning the propriety of the thing signified by \nthat not very elegant expression, we will not now \ndispute, especially since that seat is at present pretty \nmuch vacant every where. I only wish that the \npiace where Christians sit were a more anxious seat \nthan it is. \n\nNeither will I engage in pending controversy \nabout measures, new and old. What I fear most \nfrom the controversy is that it will cause many to \nbecome no measure men. I do not know why we \nwant so many measures, if we will only make good \nuse of those we have. There are two measures, \nwhich, if generally adopted and faithfully applied, \nwill, I think, answer every purpose. You may call \nthem new or old. They are both. They are old, yet, \nlike the new commandment and the new song of \nwhich we read in the Bible, ever neip. The first is, \nthe measure of plain evangelical preaching \"in sea- \nson, out of season,\" and \" not with wisdom of words.\" \nThe other is the measure of united and fervent pray- \ner, such as preceded the memorable events of the day \nof Pentecost. I am for these old, yet ever-new mea- \nsures. O that the brethren of every name would take \nfast hold of these measures and hold on to them. I \nthink then we should not want many more measures. \nPraying and preaching used to be \" mighty, through \nGod, to the pulling down of strong holds.\" I am sure \nthey will never fail. Let us employ them. \n\n\n\n92 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n17. Do you Pay for a Religious Newspaper ? \n\nI was going to ask the question in another form. \n11 Do you read a religious newspaper ?\" but then I \nreflected that many read a religious newspaper who \ndo not themselves subscribe for one, they being in \nthe habit of borrowing from their neighbors, and \nafter sending and respectfully soliciting the loan of \nthe paper before the family have read it, and not un- \nfrequently keeping it a length of time greater than \nthe golden rule will exactly justify. Then I had \nlike to have thrown the question into this shape : \n\" Do you subscribe for a religious newspaper ?\" but \nit struck me all at once, that some subscribe for a \npaper, but do not pay for it. I have heard this com- \nplaint made, and I have no doubt there is foundation \nenough for it. I, for my part, would advise such \npersons to take a moral newspaper, if they can find \nsuch a thing. That is the sort of paper they require. \nA religious newspaper is quite too far advanced for \nthem. 1 don't know, and cannot conceive why these \nnon-payers want to read a religious newspaper. I \nshould suppose they would be satisfied with secular \nnewspapers. I can imagine that they may desire, \nnotwithstanding their delinquency, to know what is \ngoing on in the world, but why they should care to \nknow how things go in the church, I cannot con- \njecture. What do those who do not give any thing \nfor value received, want to know about revivals, mis- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 93 \n\nsions, &c. ? Here are persons who would starve \neditors, publishers, printers, and paper-makers — the \nwhole concern — into a premature grave ! — who say, \n\" Send me your paper,\" implying of course that they \nwill send the money in return, yet never send it ; \nand yet they want to know all about the progress \nthat is making in converting souls to God, and what \nis doing among the heathen. Is not this strange, that \nhaving never learned as yet to practice the first and \neasiest lesson of honesty, they should wish to read \nevery thing about godliness and vital piety! So I \nconcluded to head the article, \" Do you pay for a \nreligious newspaper ?\" \n\nDo you, reader? If you do, continue to take and \nread, and pay for it ; and be slow to withdraw your \nsubscription. Give up many things before you give \nup your religious newspaper. If any one that ought \nto take such a paper, does not, I hope that some one \nto whom the circumstance is known, will volunteer \nthe loan of this to him, directing his attention par \nticularly to this article. Who is he ? A professor of \nreligion ? It cannot be. A professor of religion and \nnot taking a religious newspaper ! A member of the \nvisible church, and voluntarily without the means of \ninformation as to what is going on in that church ! \nA follower of Christ, praying daily, as taught by \nhis Master, \" Thy kingdom come,\" and yet not know- \ning, nor caring to know, what progress that kingdom \nis making ! Here is one of. those to whom Christ \n\n\n\n94 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nsaid, \" Go, teach all nations ;\" he bears a part of the \nresponsibility of the world's conversion, and yet, so \nfar from doing any thing himself, he does not even \nknow what others are doing in promoting this great \nenterprise ! Ask him about missionary stations and \noperations, and he can tell you nothing. He does \nnot read about them. I am afraid this professor of \nreligion does not love \" the gates of Zion more than \nall the dwellings of Jacob.\" Ah, he forgets thee, O \nJerusalem ! \n\nBut I must not fail to ask if this person takes a \nsecular newspaper. O, certainly he does. He must \nknow what is going on in the world ; and how else \nis he to know it ? It is pretty clear then that he \ntakes a deeper interest in the world than he does in \nthe church ; and this being the case, it is not difficult \nto say where his heart is. He pays perhaps eight \nor ten dollars for a secular paper — a paper that tells \nhim about the world, but for one that records Zion's \nconflicts and victories, he is unwilling to pay two \nor three! How can a professor of religion answer \nfor this discrimination in favor of the world ? how \ndefend himself against the charge it involves ? He \ncannot do it ; and he had better not try, but go or \nwrite immediately and subscribe for some good reli- \ngious paper ; and to be certain of paying for it, let \nhim pay in advance. There is a satisfaction when \none is reading an interesting paper, to reflect that it \nis paid for. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 95 \n\nBut perhaps you take a paper, and are in arrears' \nfor it. Now suppose you was the publisher, and \nthe publisher was one of your subscribers, and he \nwas in arrears to you, what would you think he \nought to do in that case ? I just ask the question. \nI don't care about an answer. \n\n\n\n18. Del a died Thoughts. \n\nIt is not every broken heart which constitutes the \nsacrifice of God. It depends on what has broken \nit — whether the experience of misfortune, or the \nsense of sin — the sorrow of the world, or the sorrow \nof God. Both break the heart, but it is a different \nfracture in one case from what it is in the other. God \nvalues the latter ; and hearts so broken he mends and \nmakes whole. \n\nSome sinners repent with an unbroken heart. \nThey are sorry, and yet go on, as did Pilate and \nHerod. \n\nA sinner must come to himself, as did the prodi- \ngal, before ever he will come to Christ. \n\nThe consummation of madness is to do what, at \nthe time of doing it, we intend to be afterwards sorry \nfor ; the deliberate and intentional making of work \nfor repentance. \n\n\n\n96 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n• When a Christian backslides, it is as if the pro- \ndigal son had re-acted his folly, and left his father's \nhouse a second time. \n\nThere is a mighty difference betwixt feeling \" I \nhave done wrong,\" and feeling \" I have sinned \nagainst the Lord.\" \n\nSome sinners lay down their burden elsewhere \nthan at the feet of Jesus. \n\nMinisters should aim in preaching to puncture \nthe heart, rather than tickle the ear. \n\nHe who waits for repentance, waits for what can- \nnot be had so long as it is waited for. It is absurd \nfor a man to wait for that which he has himself to do. \n\nHuman friends can weep with us when we w r eep, \nbut Jesus is a friend, who, when he has wept with \nus, can wipe away all our tears. And when the \nvale of tears terminates in the valley of the shadow \nof death, and other friends are compelled to retire \nand leave us to go alone, Jesus is the friend who can \nand will enter and go all the way through with us. \n\nIt is better for us that Christ should be in heaven \nthan on earth. We need him more there than here. \nWe want an advocate at court. \n\nWhen a family party are going home, it is com- \nmon for one to go before to make all ready for the \nrest, and to welcome them. \" I go to prepare a place \nfor you,\" says Christ to his disciples. \n\nProcrastination has been called a thief — the thief \nof time. I wish it were no w r orse than a thief. It \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 97 \n\nis a murderer ; and that which it kills is not time \nmerely, but the immortal soul. \n\nSurely the subject of religion must be the most \nimportant of all subjects, since it is presently to be- \ncome, and ever after to continue to be, the only and \nall-absorbing subject. \n\nThe obstacle in the way of the sinner's conver- \nsion possesses all the force and invincibleness of an \ninability, with all the freeness and criminality of an \nindisposition. \n\nIn vain will sinners call upon the rocks and \nmountains to hide them. Nature will not interpose \nto screen the enemies of her God. \n\nWhat strange servants some Christians are ! — al- \nways at work for themselves, and never doing any \nthing for Him whom they call their Master ! And \nwhat subjects ! — ever desiring to take the reins of \ngovernment into their own hands ! \n\nIt is one of the worst of errors, that there is an- \nother path of safety besides that of duty. \n\nThe man who lives in vain, lives worse than in \nvain. He who lives to no purpose, lives to a bad \npurpose. \n\nThe danger of the impenitent is regularly and \nrapidly increasing, as his who is in the midst of a \nburning building, or under the power of a fatal \ndisease. \n\nHow many indulge a hope which they dare not \nexamine ! \n\n\n\n98 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nIf the mere delay of hope — hope deferred, makes \nthe heart sick, what will the death of hope — its final \nand total disappointment — despair, do to it ? \n\nThe brightest blaze of intelligence is of incalcu- \nlably less value than the smallest spark of charity. \n\nThe sublimest thoughts are conceived by the in- \ntellect when it is excited by pious emotion. \n\nThere are many shining lights, which are not \nalso burning lights. \n\nThose may hope to be saved at the eleventh hour, \nwho, when called at that hour can plead, that it is \ntheir call : who can say, when asked why they stand \nidle, \" Because no man hath hired us.\" \n\nSome never begin to pray till God has ceased to \nhear. \n\nThe Christian's feeling himself weak, makes him \nstrong. \n\nGenuine benevolence is not stationary, but peripa- \ntetic. It goeth about doing good. \n\nPreparation for meeting God ought to be made \nfirst, not only because it is most important, but be- \ncause it may be needed first. We may want nothing \nso much as religion. It is the only thing that is ne- \ncessary, certainly, exceedingly, indispensably and \nimmediately. \n\nSome things, which could not otherwise be read \nin the book of nature, are legible enough in it when \nthe lamp of revelation is held up to it. \n\nIt is easier to do a great deal of mischief than to \naccomplish a little good. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 99 \n\nNo man will ever fully find out what he is by a \nmere survey of himself. He must explore, if he \nwould know himself. \n\nWhen a man wants nothing, he asks for every \nthing. \n\n\n\n19. The late Mr. Wirt. \n\nThe distinguished man whose name introduces \nthis article, and who for so long a time filled so large \na place in the public eye and mind, has passed away \nfrom the admiring view of mortals. We shall never \nagain behold on earth his nob]e figure, but his me- \nmory shall long, long be cherished in the choicest \nplace of ihe heart. His history in part belongs to \nthe nation. Let others, more competent to the task, \nwrite that, w r hile I make a brief record of that por- \ntion of his earthly story which connects him with \nthe church. Few names have ever been written on \nearth in larger and more brilliant letters ; but his \nname was written also in heaven — he had a record \non high. Mr. Wirt was a Christian. He aspired \nto that \"highest style\" of humanity, and by divine \ngrace he reached it. \n\nThe writer of this was for many years familiar \nwith the religious history of Mr. Wirt. From the \n\n\n\n100 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nfirst of his acquaintance with him, he always found \nhim disposed to listen and learn on the subject of \nreligion, even from those who were very far infe- \nrior to him in intellect and general information. I \nnever knew a man more open, candid, docile, than \nhe : and yet, for every thing which he admitted, he \nrequired a reason. His faith was implicit towards \nGod, when he had ascertained that it was to God he \nwas listening ; but his understanding refused to bow \nto man. There was a time, when, it is believed, he \nhad doubts in regard to the truth of the Christian \nreligion ; but, inquiring and examining, his doubts \ndeparted, and his mind rested in the confident be- \nlief, for which he was ever ready to render a rea- \nson, that God had made a revelation to man, and that \nthe Bible contains that revelation. Perhaps this \nwork of conviction was not fully wrought in him \nuntil some years ago, when, with the greatest satis- \nfaction and profit, as he has often said to the writer, \nhe read \" Home's Introduction to the Critical Study \nof the Holy Scriptures,\" a work which many have \nread at his recommendation, and with like results. \n\nBut Mr. Wirt was not satisfied while the faith of \nChristianity had possession of his intellect alone. \nHe was aware that it equally deserved a place in his \naffections; and having long yielded to Christ the \nhomage of his understanding, he at length opened \nto him that other department of the man, and re- \nceived him into his heart. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 101 \n\nIt was in the summer of 1831, that, on a profes- \nsion of faith and repentance, he became connected \nwith the First Presbyterian Church of Baltimore, \nof which he remained a consistent and exemplary \nmember until his death. \n\nShortly after his union to the church, the writer \nof this received from him a letter, from which he \nthink? it will be gratifying to the Christian public \nthat he should make the following extracts. They \nshow, among other things, what views this great \nman had been taught by the Spirit of God to en- \ntertain of the human character and heart. He writes \nfrom the Sweet Springs of Virginia. \n\n\" My mind has been too much occupied by the \npetty every-day cares of a residence at a public wa- \ntering-place, or traveling and tossing over rough \nroads, for that continuous and systematic medi- \ntation and cultivation of religious feelings which \nI know to be my duty, and which I think I \nshould find a delightful duty ; but perhaps I de- \nceive myself in this, for I have no faith in the \nfair dealing of this heart of mine with myself. I \nfeel the want of that supreme love of my God and \nSavior for which I pray. I feel the want of that \nwarming, purifying, elevating love, that sanctifying \nand cheering spirit which supports the Christian in \nhis warfare with the world, the flesh, and the great \nenemy of our souls. Yet let me not be ungrateful. \nI have some sweet moments. My affections do some- \n9* \n\n\n\n102 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ntimes take wing among these great works of God \nthat surround me, and rise to their Creator, and I \nthink with gratitude on that transcendantly greater \nwork of his, the salvation of a guilty and fallen world \nby the death and mediation of his only Son. But \nindeed I am an exceedingly poor and weak Chris- \ntian ; and I often fear, too often for my peace, that \nthere is at least nothing of the vitality of religion \nabout me, and that I may have mistaken the burning \nof some of those vapors that fume from an ardent \nimagination, for that strong, steady and ever-during \nfire which animates the Christian, and bears him \ntriumphant on his course. God only knows how \nthis matter is. I think I am endeavoring to be sin- \ncere. But I may be mistaken, and it may turn out \nat last to be only one of those stratagems which the \narch-enemy plays off upon us to our ruin. But even \nthis apprehension again may be one of his strata- \ngems to make me despond, and thus defeat the ope-, \nration of the Spirit. \n\nAlas ! with how many enemies are we beset — \ntreachery within and without. Nothing remains for \nus but to watch and to pray, lest we enter into temp- \ntation. God forbid that the public profession which \nI have made of religion should redound to the dis- \nhonor of his cause. It is the fear* of this which has \nso long held me back, and not the fear of man. I \nam grieved to learn that my having gone to the \nLord's table has got into the papers. It is no fit \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 103 \n\nsubject for a paper. Of what consequence is it to \nthe cause of Christ that such a poor reptile as my- \nself should have acknowledged him before other \nworms of the dust like myself. I feel humbled and \nstartled at such an annunciation. It will call the \neyes of a hypercritical and malignant world upon \nme, and, I fear, tend more to tarnish than to advance \nthe cause.\" \n\nIn another part of the letter he writes : \" I long \nfor more fervor in prayer — for more of the love and \nSpirit of God shed abroad in my heart — for more \nof his presence throughout the day — for a firmer an- \nchorage in Christ, to keep this heart of mine and \nits affections from tossing to and fro on the waves of \nthis world and the things ©f time and sense — for a \nbrighter and a stronger faith — and some assurance \nof my Savior's acceptance and love. I feel as if he \ncould not love me — that I am utterly unworthy of \nhis love — that I have not one loveable point or qua- \nlity about me — but that, on the contrary, he must \nstill regard me as an alien to his kingdom and a \nstranger to his love. But, with the blessing of God, \nI will persevere in seeking him, relying on his pro- \nmise, that if I come to him, he will in no wise cast \nme off.\" 4 \n\nIt may not be uninteresting to mention that the \nfavorite religious authors of Mr. W. were Waits \nand Jay. More recently he became acquainted with \nthe writings of Flavel, and the subject of the last \n\n\n\n104 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nconversation I had with him was Flavel's \" Saint \nIndeed,\" which he had just been reading with great \ninterest. \n\n\n\n30. Traveling on the Sabbath. \n\nHow few men act from principle ! How few have \nany rule, by which they uniformly regulate their \nconduct ! Fewer still act from christian principle — \nregard a rule derived from revelation. It makes \nmy very heart bleed to think how few, even of civi- \nlized and evangelized men, regard divine authority. \nAnd yet it is the disregard of this which constitutes \nthe sinner and the rebel. Some disregard one ex- \npression of it. and some another. He who, whatever \nrespect he may profess for God, practically disre- \ngards any expression of divine authority, is a re- \nvolter — a rebel : is up in heart, if not in arms, \nagainst God; is engaged in a controversy with \nJehovah. \n\nWhat has let me into this train of reflection, is the \ngeneral disregard that I observe with respect to the \nsanctification of the Sabbath. He who made us, and \nwho, by constantly preserving us, when otherwise \nwe should relapse into non-existence, may be said to \nbe continually renewing the creation of us, and has \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 105 \n\nbeyond all question a right to control us, did long \nago, from Sinai, distinctly express his will with re- \ngard to the manner in which the seventh portion of \ntime should be spent, and how it should be dis- \ntinguished from the other six portions. He remind- \ned his creatures of it, and declared it to be his will \nthat it should be kept holy ; that six days we should \nlabor, and therein do all our work, leaving none of \nit to be done on the seventh, because the seventh is \nthe Sabbath of the Lord our God. It is his rest, \nand therefore should be ours also. In if he has sig- \nnified it to be his will that we should not do any \nwork ; neither we, nor those who are subject to us \nas children or as servants, nor even those transiently \ndomesticated with us, the strangers within our gates. \nNor should man alone rest, but the beast also. Then \nhe condescends to give a reason for this enactment, \nin which all mankind, whenever and wherever they \nlive, are equally interested — a reason which was \nvalid from the creation of the world, and will hold \ngood as long as the world lasts ; \" for in six days \nthe Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all \nthat in them is, and rested the seventh day ; where- \nfore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and hal- \nlowed it.\" \n\nNow, God has never revoked this expression of \nhis will. He has never repealed this law. If he has, \nwhen did he it, and where is the record of its repeal ? \nHe has not taken off the blessing which he laid on \n\n\n\n106 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthe Sabbath. He has not obliterated the distinction \nwhich he put on the seventh portion of time. He \nhas not said, \" You need no longer remember the \nSabbath to keep it holy — seven days you may labor \n— my example of six days of work, followed by one \nof cessation and rest, you may now cease to imitate.\" \nHe has not said any thing like it. The law is in \nforce therefore even until now. \n\nWell, here is the law of God, with the reason of \nit. Now for the practice of men. How poorly they \ncompare ! There are indeed few who do not remem- \nber the Sabbath day, and in some manner distinguish \nit from the other days of the week. But the law is, \nthat they should remember it to keep it holy; that \nthey should distinguish it by hallowing it as a day \nof rest. This they do not. They keep it no more \nholy than any other day, though they do differently \non that day from what they do on others. They do \nnot the same work on that day which they do on \nthe ether days, but they do some work. Such as ne- \ncessity requires, and such as mercy dictates, they \nmay do. The law of nature teaches that, and. the \nexample of the Lord of the Sabbath sanctions and \nconfirms the lesson. But they do other work than \nsuch as these call them to. The Sabbath is with \nthem as secular a day as any other, though the man- \nner of their worldliness on that day may be unlike \nwhat it is on the other days. What is more purely \nsecular than visiting and traveling, yet what more \n\n\n\n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 107 \n\ncommon on the day which the Lord has blessed and \nhallowed ? These, I know, are not considered as fall- \ning under the denomination of work, but they do \nfall under it. They are as certainly included among \nthe things forbidden to be done on the Sabbath, as \nare ploughing and sowing. The former are no more \nsacred — no less secular than are the latter. \n\nI have been struck with the indiscriminate man- \nner in which travelers use the seven days of the \nweek. One would suppose that the law had made \nan exception in favor of traveling — forbidding every \nother species of secular employment on the day of \nrest, but allowing men to journey on it. They that \nwould not do any other labor on the Sabbath, will \nnevertheless without compunction travel on that day. \nThe farmer, who would not toil in his field; the \nmerchant, who would not sell an article out of his \nstore j the mechanic, who would not labor at his \ntrade ; and the mistress of the family, who scrupu- \nlously avoids certain household occupations on the \nSabbath, will yet all of them, without any relettings, \ntravel on the Sabbath, and that whether the object \nof their journey be business or pleasure. It makes \nno difference. They would not on the Sabbath do \nother work appropriate to the six days. That would \nshock them. But to commence, continue, or finish a \njourney on the Sabbath, offends not their consciences \nin the least. I am acquainted with many persons \nwho would not for the world travel to a place on Sa- \n\n\n\n108 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nturday, accomplish their business, the object of their \njourney, on Sunday, and return on Monday; but \nthese same persons will, for a very little of the world, \nand without any hesitation, go to the place on Fri- \nday,.do their business on Saturday, and return on \nSunday. Now I would do the one just as soon as I \nwould the other, and should consider that I desecra- \nted the Sabbath by traveling to or from the place of \nbusiness on it, just as much as by accomplishing the \nobject of the journey on it. \n\nI would ask the candid traveler if any thing can \nsecularize the Sabbath more completely, if any thing \ncan more effectually nullify it, than ordinary travel- \ning ? If a man may lawfully travel on the Sabbath, \nexcept in a case of stern necessity, such as would \njustify any species of work, I know not what he may \nnot lawfully do on that day. What is more absurd \nthan that it should be lawful and proper to journey \non the day set apart and sanctified for rest ? Surely \njourneying does not comport well with rest. But \nthey say that traveling is not work, and therefore \nnot included in the prohibition. I deny the fact. It \nis often hard and wearisome work. And what if it \nbe not work to the passenger, is it not work to those \nwho are employed in conveying him ? If he does not \nlabor, yet others must labor in order to enable him \nto travel, and is he not equally responsible for the j \nwork which he renders necessary on the Sabbath, \nas for that which he does with his own hands ? But \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 109 \n\nwhat if no human being is employed to forward him \non his journey, he deprives the beast of his day of \nrest. And is it nothing to withhold from the poor \nanimal the privilege of the Sabbath — to compel him \nto work on the day on which God has directed that \nhe should be permitted to rest ? \n\nAccording to this theory, that it is lawful to jour- \nney on the Sabbath, a man may so arrange it as ne- \nver to be under obligation to keep a Sabbath. He \nhas only to set apart that day of the week for travel- \ning ; he has only to keep in motion on the day of \nrest ; that is all. Moreover, he who gets his living \nby traveling, or by the journeying of others, has, on \nthis supposition, a manifest advantage (if such it may \nbe called) over his neighbors. He has seven days \nfor profit, while they have only six. The day-laborer \nmd the poor mechanic may not use the seventh day \nis they do the other days of the week. They must \nmake a distinction between them. But those who \ntravel for their pleasure, or whose business calls them \nibroad, and those who accommodate them with con- \nveyances, may use the seven days indiscriminately. \nIs this equal ? \n\nI think it must be evident to every unpreju- \nliced mind, that to travel on the Sabbath is to use it \nis any other day. It is to make no distinction be- \ntween it and Monday or Saturday. It disregards \nthe peculiarity of the day altogether. Yet I suppose \nthere is as much journeying on the Sabbath as there \n10 \n\n\n\n110 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nis on any other day of the week. With very few \nexceptions, the steam-boats ply and the stages run \nas usual ; and both, I am informed, are as full, if not \nmore crowded on the Sabbath than on any other day ; \nand private carriages are as numerous on the great \nthoroughfares, and in the vicinity of cities more so \non the Sabbath. And the registers of the watering \nplaces show as many arrivals and departures on Sun- \nday as on Monday. Yes, men make as free with \nthe Lord's day as they do with their own days. So \nlittle regard is paid to divine authority. So little do \nmen care for God. And, they tell me, all sorts of \nmen travel on the Sabbath — -even many professors \nof religion. That I would suppose. I never heard \nof any thing so bad that some professor of religion \nhad not done it. It was one of the professors of re- \nligion who bartered away and betrayed our blessed \nLord and Savior. And some ministers of the Gospel, \nI am told, do the work of traveling on the Sabbath. \nNow we have some ministers who have farms. I \nsuppose it would be accounted dreadful, should they \nplough or reap on the Sabbath. Yet these might \nplough as innocently as those may travel. But these \nbreakers of the Sabbath, and indeed almost all of this \nclass of transgressors, are the readiest persons I ever \nmet with at making excuses for their conduct. I pro- \npose in my next to consider some of their apologies. \nThey will be found very curious. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. Ill \n\n21. Apologies for Traveling on the Sabbath. \n\nSome of those who do the work of journeying on \nthe Sabbath, do not condescend to make any apology \nfor it. They care neither for the day, nor for Him \nwho hallowed it. With these we have nothing to \ndo. Our business is with those who, admitting the \ngeneral obligation of the Sabbath, and knowing or sus- \npecting Sunday traveling to be a sin, offer apologies \nwhich they hope may justify the act in their case, \nor else go far toward extenuating the criminality of \nit. I propose to submit to the judgment of my read- \ners some of the excuses for this sin, as I cannot help \nealling the breach of the fourth commandment, \nwhich from time to time I have heard alleged. \n\nI would premise that I know of no sin which \nmen are so sorry for before it is done, and so ready \nto apologize for afterwards. I cannot tell how many \npersons, about to travel on the Sabbath, have an- \nswered me that they were very sorry to do it ; and \nyet they have immediately gone and done it. They \nhave repented and then sinned — just like Herod, \nwho was sorry to put John the Baptist to death, and \nthen immediately sent an executioner to bring his \nhead. It does not diminish the criminality of an act \nthat it is perpetrated with some degree of regret — \nand yet the presence of such a regret is considered \nby many as quite a tolerable excuse. \n\nOne gentleman, who was sorry to travel on the \n\n\n\n\n\n\n112 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nSabbath, added, I recollect, that it was against his \nprinciples to make such a use of the day. I won- \ndered then that he should do it — that he should de- \nliberately practice in opposition to his principles. \nBut I was still more surprised that he should think \nto excuse his practice by alleging its contrariety to \nhis principles. What are principles for but to regu- \nlate practice; and if they have not fixedness and \nforce enough for this, of what use are they? A \nman's principles may as well be in favor of Sabbath \nbreaking as his practice ; and certainly it constitutes a \nbetter apology for a practice that it is in conformity to \none's principles, than that it is at variance with them. \n\nAnother gave pretty much the same reason for \nhis conduct in different words : \" It is not my ha- \nbit\" said he, \"to travel on the Sabbath.\" It was \nonly his act. He did not uniformly do it. He only \noccasionally did it. A man must be at a loss for \nreasons who alleges an apology for traveling one \nSabbath, that he does not travel other Sabbaths. The \nhabit of obedience forms no excuse for the act of dis- \nobedience. \n\nAn intelligent lady, who was intending to travel \non the Sabbath, volunteered this exculpation of her- \nself. She said she had traveled one Sabbath already \nsince she left home, and she supposed it was no \nworse to travel on another. What then? are not \ntwo sins worse than one? \n\nAnother (and she was a lady too) said she could \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 113 \n\nread good books by the way ; and you know, said \nshe, that we can have as good thoughts in one place \nss in another. I assented, but could not help think- \ning that the persons employed in conveying her \nmight not find their situation as favorable to devout \nreading and meditation. This, I suppose, did not \noccur to her. \n\nAnother person said that he would never com- \nmence a journey on the Sabbath; but when once set \nout, he could see no harm in proceeding. But I, \nfor my part, could not see the mighty difference be- \ntween setting out on the Sabbath, and going on on \nthe Sabbath. My perceptions were so obtuse that I \ncould not discern the one to be traveling, and the \nother to be equivalent to rest. \n\nI heard, among other excuses, this : Sunday was \nthe only day of the week on which the stage run to \n*he place to which the person wished to go, and \ntherefore he was compelled to travel on Sunday. \nCompelled ? Why go to the place at all 1 Why not \nprocure a private conveyance on another day of the \nweek? What if it would be more expensive ? Doing \nright pays so well, that one can afford to be at some \nexpense to do it. \n\nAgain, I was frequently met with this apology \nfor journeying on the Sabbath : \" The stage was \ngoing on, and if I had laid by on the Sabbath, I \nshould have lost my seat, and might have had to \nwait on the road, perhaps for a whole week, before I \n10* \n\n\n\n114 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ncould regain it.\" This apology satisfied many. They \nthought it quite reasonable that the person should \nproceed under those circumstances. But it did not \nsatisfy me. It occurred to me, that if he had honored \nthe Sabbath, and committed his way to the Lord, \nhe might not have been detained on the road be- \nyond the day of rest. But what if he had been ? are \nwe under no obligation to obey a command of Goct, \nif we foresee that obedience to it may be attended \nwith some inconvenience ? Better the detention of \nmany days than the transgression of a precept of \nthe decalogue. \n\nOne person told me that he meant to start very \nearly in the morning, for he wished to occupy as lit- \ntle of the Sabbath in traveling as possible. Another \nproposed to lie by all the middle of the day, and pro- \nceed in the evening, and he was sure there could be \nno harm in that. Ah, thought I, and has not Sun- \nday a morning and an evening appropriate to itself \nas well as any other day of the week ? Is the morn- \ning of Sunday all one with Saturday, and the evening \nno more sacred than Monday ? Did God hallow \nonly the middle of the day 7 And is the day of rest \nshorter by several hours than any other day? I \nnever could see how one part of the Sabbath shouid \nbe entitled to more religious respect than another \npart. It seems to me a man may as properly travel \non the noon of the Sabbath, as in the morning or \nevening. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 115 \n\nOne person was very particular to tell me what he \nmeant to do after he had traveled a part of the Lord's \nday. He expected, by about 10 or 11 o'clock, to come \nacross a church, and he intended to go in and wor- \nship. That he supposed would set all right again. \n\nAnother, a grave looking personage, was travel- \ning on the Sabbath to reach an ecclesiastical meet- \ning in season. Another, in order to fulfill an appoint- \nment he had made to preach. These were ministers. \nThey pleaded the necessity of the case ; but I could \nsee no necessity in it. I thought the necessity of \nkeeping God's commandments a much clearer and \nstronger case of necessity. The business of the \nmeeting could go on without that clergyman, or it \nmight have been deferred a day in waiting for him., \nor lie might have left home a day earlier. The ap- \npointment to preach should not have been made ; or \nif made, should have been broken. \n\nThere was one apologist who had not heard from \nhome for a good while, and he was anxious to learn \nabout his family. Something in their circumstances \nmight require his presence. I could not sustain even \nthat apology, for I thought the Lord could take care \nof his family without him as well as with him, and \nI did not, believe they would be likely to suffer by \nhis resting on the Sabbath out of respect to God's \ncommandment, and spending the day in imploring \nthe divine blessing on them. \n\nAnother apologist chanced to reach on Saturday \n\n\n\n116 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nnight an indifferent public house. He pleaded, \ntherefore, that it was necessary for him to proceed \non the next day until he should arrive at better ac \ncommodations. But I could not help thinking that \nhis being comfortably accommodated was not, on the \nwhole, so important as obedience to the decalogue. \n\nOne person thought he asked an unanswerable \nquestion, when he begged to know why it was not \nas well to be on the road, as to be lying by at a coun- \ntry tavern. It occurred to me, that if his horses had \npossessed the faculty of Balaam's beast, they could \nhav-e readily told him the difference, and why the \nlatter part Gf the alternative was preferable. \n\nThere was still another person who was sure his \nexcuse would be sustained. He was one of a party, \nwho were determined to proceed on the Sabbath in \nspite of his reluctance, and he had no choice but to go \non with them. Ah, had he no choice ? would they \nhave forced him to go on ? could he not have sepa- \nrated from such a party ? or might he not, if he had \nbeen determined, have prevailed on them to rest on \nthe Lord's day? Suppose he had said, mildly yet \nfirmly : \" My conscience forbids me to journey on the \nSabbath. You can go, but you must leave me. I am \nsorry to interfere with your wishes, but I cannot of- \nfend God.\" Is it not ten to one such a remonstrance \nwould have been successful ? I cannot help suspect- \ning that the person was willing to be compelled in \nthis case. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 117 \n\nBut many said that this strict keeping of the Sab- \nbath was an old 'puritanical notion, and this seemed \nto ease their consciences somewhat. I remarked that \nI thought it older than puritanism. A Siyiaitical no- \ntion I judged it to be, rather than puritanical. \n\nMany Sunday travelers I met with, begged me \nnot tell their pious relatives that they had traveled \non the Sabbath. They thought, if these knew it, they \nwould not think so well of them, and they would be \nlikely to hear of it again. No one asked me not to \ntell God. They did not seem to care how it affected \nthem in his estimation. It never occurred to them \nthat they might hear from the Lord of the Sabbath \non the subject. \n\nI do not know any purpose which such apologies \nfor Sabbath -breaking serve, since they satisfy neither \nGod nor his people, but one, and that is not a very \nvaluable one. They serve only, as far as I can see, \nto delude those who offer them. \n\nI love to be fair. I have been objecting lately \nagainst the Catholics, that they reduce the number of \nthe commandments to nine. I here record my ac- \nknowledgment that some of us Protestants have \nreally but nine. The Catholics omit the second ; some \nof our Protestants the fourth. \n\n\n\n118 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n2». I Have Done Giving. \n\nA gentleman of high respectability, and a mem- \nber of che church, made this remark the other day, \nwhen informed that an application was about to be \nmade to him in behalf of some charitable object. \" I \nhave done giving,\" said he. When I heard of his \nremark it awakened in my mind a train of reflec- \ntion, which I have thought it might not be amiss to \ncommunicate. \n\n\" Done giving !\" Has he indeed ? Why ? Has he \ngiven all ? Has he nothing left to give ? Has this \ndisciple done what his Master did ? Was he rich, and \nhas he become poor for the sake of others, that they, \nthrough his poverty, might be rich ? O no ! he is \nrich still. He has the greatest abundance — more \nthan enough to support him in elegance, and to en- \nable him to leave an ample inheritance to his chil- \ndren. What if he has a great deal ? He has not only \nnot impoverished himself, but is probably richer now, \nthrough the favor of Providence, than he would have \nbeen had he never given any thing. Now if, by \nhonoring the Lord with his substance, his barns, in- \nstead of being emptied, have been filled with plenty, \nhe had better continue this mode of honoring him. \nHe should rather increase than arrest his liberality. \n\" Done giving !\" Why ? Is there no more need \nof giving 1 Is every want abundantly supplied ? Is \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 119 \n\nthe whole population of our country furnished with \nthe means of grace ? Is the world evangelized ? Have \nmissionaries visited every shore ? Is the Bible translat- \ned into every language and distributed in every land, \na copy in every family, and every member of every \nfamily taught to read it ? Are the accommodations \nfor widows and orphans as ample as they should be 1 \nIs there a house of refuge for every class of the hu- \nman family that needs one ? Or have the poor ceased \nfrom the land ? O no ! There are no such good rea- \nsons as these for ceasing to give. Why then has he \ndone giving? Is it because others do not give as \nthey ought? But what is that to him? Will he \nmake the practice of others his rule of conduct, ra- \nther than the precept of Jesus Christ ? If others do \nnot give, so much the more should he. Will he add \nanother name to the list of niggards ? \n\nDoes he feel worse for having given away so \nmuch ? Has it made him unhappy ? Is his experi- \nence different from that of the Lord Jesus, who said, \n\" It is more blessed to give than to receive ?\" \n\nHas he, who thinks he will give no more, been \nled to that conclusion by having found that what \nhas been given hitherto has done no good ? And is \nit so, that no good has been done by all the Bibles \npublished, and all the Tracts distributed, and all the \nmissionaries sent abroad into our own land and into \nthe world ; and all the schools established, and all the \nchildren taught to read, and all the civilization intro- \n\n\n\n120 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nduced, and all the asylums opened, and all the po- \nverty relieved? Has no good heen done ? Good, great \ngood has been done by what has been given ; but \nstill more will be done by what shall be given here- \nafter. Bibles can now be printed at a cheaper rate \nthan heretofore, and the conductors of our charitable \noperations have learned, by experience, that economy \nwhich can be learned in no other way. And yet at \nthis time, when a dollar goes so far in doing good, \nhere is a man who says, \" I have done giving !\" If I \nhad his ear for a moment, I would ask him if he has \ndone receiving — if God has done giving to him. I \nwould ask him, moreover, if he has done spending, \nor done hoarding, or done wasting. Now, if he has \nnot, he surely should not stop giving. When he \nceases to waste, to hoard, and to spend, except for \nthe merest necessaries, then he may stop giving, but \nnever till then. \n\n\" Done giving !\" that is, done lending to the Lord ! \nDone sowing and watering ! Done offering the sacri- \nfices with which God is well pleased ! Done mak- \ning the widow's heart leap for joy, and bringing on \nhimself the blessing of them that were ready to pe- \nrish ! Well, I am sorry — sorry for the sake of the \npoor, and the sick, and the orphan, arid the ignorant, \nand the heathen. But no less sorry am I for the \nman's own sake. Poor man! poor with all his af- \nfluence, for there is really no one more poor than he, \nwho, with the ability to give, has not the inclina- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 121 \n\ntion. He has it in his power to give, but not in his \nheart. He is enriched with abundance, but not with \nliberality. \n\n\" Done giving !\" well then, if he will not give his \nmoney, he must keep it. And yet how short the time \nhe can keep it ! Had he not better freely give away \nsome of it, than to wait for it all to be torn from him ? \nThe thought that he has given, will be at least as \nagreeable a meditation in his dying moments, as the \nreflection that he spent, or that he laid up. \n\nI hope that gentleman who said \" I have done \ngiving,\" will recall his resolution, and taking re- \nvenge on himself for having made it, give more \nliberally than ever. \n\n\n\n23. \" I Will Give Liberally,' 4 \n\nIt is a good resolution, founded on good reasons, \nsome of which I will state, in the hope that others \nmay be induced to come to a similar determination. \n\nI will give liberally, for the following reasons, viz. \n\n1. Because the objects for which I am called \nupon to give are great and noble. It is the cause \nof letters and religion, of man and God, for which \nmy donations are wanted. The interests of time and \neternity both are involved in it Now, it is a shame \n11 \n\n\n\n122 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nto give calculatingly and sparingly to such a cause, \nand for such objects. If one gives at a.., he should \ngive liberally. Nothing can justify a person's put- \nting in only two mites, but its being all his living. \n\n2. Liberal donations are needed. The cause not \nonly deserves them, but requires them. It takes a \ngreat deal to keep the present operations a going ; \nand we must every year extend the works. Do you \nnot know that we have the world to go over, and the \nmillennium is just at hand? Look, the morning of \nthat, day is getting bright. We can almost see the \nsun peering above the horizon. \n\n3. My means either enable me now to give libe- \nrally, or, by economy and self-denial, may be so in- \ncreased as to enable me to give liberally. I will give \nliberally so long as I do not resort to economy and \nself-denial ; and if I do resort to them, that will ena- \nble me to give liberally. \n\n4. I will give liberally, because I have received \nliberally. God has given liberally. He has not only \nfilled my cup, but made it run over. He has given \nme \" good measure, pressed down, and shaken to- \ngether, and running over.\" I will imitate him in my \ngifts to others, and especially in my donations to \nhis cause. \n\n5. I am liberal in my expenditures, and therefore \nI will be in my donations. Why should I spend \nmuch and give little ? It is not because spending is \nmore blessed. No, it is giving that is said to be \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 123 \n\nmore blessed. The conduct of a man, whose expendi- \ntures are large and his donations small, is literally \nmonstrous. I will not act so out of all proportion. \nIf I must retrench, I will retrench from my expen- \nditures, and not from my benefactions. \n\n6. The time for giving is short, and therefore I \nwill give liberally while I have the opportunity of \ngiving at all. Soon I shall be compelled to have \ndone giving:. \n\n7. A blessing is promised to liberal giving, and \n1 want it. The liberal soul shall be made fat. There- \nfore I will be liberal. \" And he that watereth, shall be \nwatered also himself.\" Then 1 will water. \" There \nis that scattereth and yet increaseth.\" Therefore I \nwill scatter ; and not sparingly, but bountifully ; for \n\" he which soweth sparingly, shall reap also spa- \nringly ; and he which soweth bountifully, shall reap \nalso bountifully.\" \n\n8. I will give liberally, because it is not a clear \ngift, it is a loan. \" He that has pity upon the poor \nlendeth unto the Lord ;\" lendeth to the best of pay- \nmasters, on the best security, and at the highest rate \nof interest ; for he renders double, aye, a hundredfold \nin this life, to say nothing of the life to come. I will \nlend him liberally. \n\n9. I will give liberally, because the times are hard \nwhere the Gospel is not. \n\n10. I will give liberally, because there are many \nwho would, but cannot ; and many that can. but will \n\n\n\n124 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nnot. It is so much the more necessary, therefore, \nthat they should who are both able and inclined. I \nused to say, \" I will not give liberally, because others \ndo not. There is a richer man than I am, who does \nnot give so much as I do.\" But now, from the same \npremises, I draw the opposite conclusion. Because \nothers do not give liberally, I will. \n\n11. I have sometimes tried giving liberally, and I \ndo not believe I have ever lost any thing by it. I \nhave seen others try it, and they did not seem to lose \nany thing by it ; and, on the whole, I think a man is \nin no great danger of losing, who puts liberally into \nthe treasury of the Lord and possessor of all things, \nand the giver of every good and perfect gift. \n\n12. And finally, when I ask myself if I shall ever \nbe sorry for giving liberally, I hear from within a \nprompt and most decided negative, \" No, never.\" \n\nWherefore I conclude that I will give liberally. \nIt is a good resolution, I am certain ; and now I will \ntake care that I do not spoil it all by putting an illi- \nberal construction on liberally. I will understand it \nas meaning freely, cheerfully, largely, whether the \nlexicographers say so or not; or, in other words, as \nmeaning ivhat I ought to give, and a little more. I \nwill tell you how I will do. An object being present- \ned to me, when I have ascertained what justice re- \nquires me to give, I will add something, lest, through \ninsidious selfishness, I may have underrated my \nability : and that, if I err, I may be sure to err on the \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 125 \n\nright side. Then I will add a little to my donation \nout of generosity. And when I have counted out \nwhat justice requires, and what generosity of her \nfree will offers, then I will think of Him, who, though \nhe was rich, for our sakes became poor, that we, \nthrough his poverty, might be rich ; and I say not \nthat I will add a little more, but, how can I keep \nback any thing ? \n\n\" Were the whole realm of nature mine, \n\" That were a present far toe small : \n11 Love so amazing, so divine, \n\" Demands my soul, my life, my all.\" \n\n\n\n24. The Calls are so Many. \n\nThis is one of the most common complaints of \nthose who are called upon to contribute to charitable \nobjects : \" The calls are so many,\" they say. Now, \nlet us inquire into this matter. \n\n1. Are there really so many? Reckon them up. \nPerhaps they are not, after all, so many as you ima- \ngine. Any thing which annoys us, at intervals, is \napt to be considered as coming oftener than it really \ndoes. When a man has rent to pay, how frequently \nquarter day seems to come round ! But it is not so \n11* \n\n\n\n126 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nwith him who is the receiver. The calls are not, in \nfact, so many as you imagine. I asked a wealthy \nlady once, who thought she gave a great deal away \nin charity, to keep an accurate account for one year \nof all she gave away, particularly to the religious \ncharities ; (which are those that are most complain- \ned of;) and I predicted that she would find, at the close \nof the year, that her donations had been less than she \nimagined. She did so, and at the end of the year \ncame to me and said she was perfectly ashamed to \nfind that she had spent so much and given so little. \nShe found that the calls were not \" so very many.\" \n\n2. If the calls are so many, yet do not make that \na reason for refusing them all. I fear that some do. \nBut surely that the calls are so many, is no reason \nthat you should not comply with some of them. It \nis only a reason why you should not comply with \nall. Meet one-half of them generously, if you can- \nnot meet them all. You acknowledge that there \nought to be some calls, when you complain that they \nare so many. \n\n3. If the calls are many, are they more than the \nwants ? Ought they not to be as many ? Would \nyou have the calls fewer than the wants? That \nwould never do ; — then some wants would never be \nsupplied. Besides, you should consider who makes \nor permits the wants — and therefore the calls — to be \nso many, lest your complaint cast a reflection on \nGod. If the calls are so many — too many, and we \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 127 \n\nmust dispense with some, which shall they be? \nWidows and orphans, and the poor generally, you \ndare not, as you fear God, except from your chari- \nties. Will you refuse the call of the Bible agent, or \nthe Tract agent? Will you withhold from Foreign \nMissions, or from Home Missions, or from both ? \nOr will you say, \" We will contribute to send out \nand support missionaries both at home and abroad, \nbut we will not aid in their education 1 Let them \nget that as they can. Let them make their way \nthrough the academy, the college, and the theologi- \ncal seminary as they can. And let Sunday schools \nestablish and support themselves : and temperance \nagents see, since they are so much in favor of absti- \nnence, if they cannot get along without the staff of \nlife.\" For my part, I do not know what calls to ex- \ncept, and therefore I judge the safer way to be to re- \nceive none. \n\n4. If the calls are many, the expenditures are \nmore ; and we not only spend, but waste, in more \nways than we give. \n\n5. If the calls you receive are so many, suppose, \nin order to avoid them, that you make some. Turn \nagent for some society, and you shall see how much \nmore pleasant it is to make calls than to receive \nthem. We will excuse you from contributing, if you \nwill solicit. But that you would not like at all. \" You \ncannot bear begging. It is the most unpleasant thing \nin the world to apply to people for money.\" Very \n\n\n\n128 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nwell ; if you decline this branch of the alternative, \nthen do not complain of the other. If you will not \nturn out and make the calls, you must sit still and \nreceive them. It is the easier part ; and you ought \nto be good natured when you receive one of these \ncalls — aye, and even grateful to the man who comes \nto you, that he affords you another opportunity of \noffering one of the sacrifices with which God is well \npleased, without going out of your way to do it. \nOthers must go about to do good, but you can sit \nstill and do good. \n\n6. If the calls are so many, this importunity will \nnot last long. Not more than seventy or eighty \nyears does it ever continue. If it is an annoyance, \nyou can bear it a few years. In eternity you will \nnever receive these or any other calls. I knew se- \nveral rich men whose last calls were made on them \nin 1833. \n\nDo these calls pester you ? They bless others. \nYonder is a poor woman reading the Bible which \nyour money paid for. And there is another weep- \ning over a Tract which she owes to your donation. \nAnd there is a third blessing the good people that \nsupport domestic missions : and there is a heathen \nmother, who perhaps would have immolated her \nchild, if your contribution had not helped to send \nher the Gospel. Do you hear that young man ? \nHow well he preaches ! You assisted to educate \nhim. Dear friend, do not complain, but welcome \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 129 \n\nevery call ; treat all the agents with civility, and do \nas much as you any way can for the various benevo- \nlent objects ; for \" the time is short,\" and all the re- \ngret which your liberality will occasion you I will \nconsent to suffer. \n\n\n\n35. «I Can't Afford It.\" \n\nThis is another of the common excuses for not \ngiving. A person, being applied to in behalf of this \nor that good object, says, \" I approve the object. It \nought to be encouraged, and I am sorry I cannot \naid it. But so it is. The calls on me are so many, \nand my means are so limited, I cannot afford it.\" \nNow it may be he is mistaken. Perhaps he can af- \nford it. The heart is very deceitful. But admitting \nthat he cannot afford it, as is often the case, yet does \nthis excuse him ? Is the want of ability a sufficient \napology? By no means. There is another thing to \nbe considered — the cause of his inability. Why can \nhe not afford it ? We must go back one step, and in- \nquire how it comes to pass that he is so destitute of \nmeans as to be unable to give to this and that good \nobject. What if he has not the ability, provided he \nmight have it ? Now as it regards the cause of the \ninability. \n\n\n\n130 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n1. Perhaps he does not earn as much as he might. \nIn that case, his not being able to afford it is no ex- \ncuse. All he has to do is to earn a little more, and \nthen he can afford it. Let only his idle hours be \nfewer — let him but work a little longer, or a little \nharder, and there will be no difficulty. And why \nshould not a man earn to give, as well as earn to \neat, drink, and put on ? Are these last more blessed \nthan giving ? Why should you not put forth a little \nextra effort, if it be necessary to enable you to pro- \nmote the cause of humanity and religion ? We see \nthat this man is the author of his inability, and there- \nfore it is no excuse. He could afford it if he would \nbut take certain simple and obvious measures to \ndo so. \n\n2. Perhaps the case may be that he does not save \nas much as he might. He is not idle, but he is pro- \ndigal. He earns enough, but he does not economi- \ncally use it. Now a penny saved is equal to a pemry \nearned ; and it is all one to the treasury of charity \nwhether that which it receives comes of economy \nor of industry. The person of whom I now speak, \nearns it, but he does not save it. Hence his inabil- \nity. His income is more than sufficient for the com- \nfortable subsistence of himself and those dependent \non him, yet he is so inconsiderate in his expenditures, \nwastes so much, that he has nothing left to give. \nNow, I would ask if it is not worth while to prac- \ntice economy for the sake of being able to exercise \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 131 \n\nliberality ; to save for the sake of having something \nto give to the cause of the Lord 1 Is it not worth \nall the care which economy requires ? \n\n3. But perhaps I have not suggested the true cause \nof the inability. If, however, the apologist will allow \nme the liberty of a little survey and criticism, I \nthink I can ascertain why he cannot afford it. And \nfirst I will scan his person. O, I see why you can- \nnot afford it ! You wear your money. You have \ngot so much of your earnings or income on your \nperson, that it is no wonder that you cannot afford \nto give. Why, there is one article worn over the \nshoulders, that cost one hundred dollars, or more. \nNow I do not say, take it off; but I do say, that while \nit is on, you have no right to plead, \" I cannot afford \nit,\" for you wear a proof that you can afford it. Next \nI will enter the house. The size and situation of it \nis perhaps unnecessarily expensive ; and then the \nfurniture ! Here the wonder ceases — the mystery \nis explained. I see plainly enough why you can- \nnot afford it. \n\nNow, again I say, I am not one of those who \nwould have you sell off your furniture and move \nout of the house you occupy, for God has given us \n\" richly all things to enjoy ;\" but while you live in \nthe manner you do, pray do not plead that you can- \nnot afford it when one asks you to give to the cause \nof some charity. Now the table is set. The service \nis very fine. Distant China has contributed of its \n\n\n\n132 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nporcelain, and Potosi of the product of its mines to \nenrich it. What a display of silver ! I see why you \ncannot afford it. You have melted the dollars by \nwhich you could have afforded it, into plate. Now, \neither send that back to the mint again, or else do \nnot send away the agent for that Christian institu- \ntion emptyhanded. The dinner is spread. Many \nand rich are the dishes. I do not complain. Only \nwhen you have such a table before you, dare not to \nsay that you cannot afford the money which shall \npurchase and send a little of the bread of life to the \ndestitute and perishing. Then follows the — wines, \nI should say. Well, what is the harm ? Even the \ntemperance pledge excepts wine. No harm. Only \ndo not say again \" I cannot afford it,\" to him who \ncomes to plead before you the cause of the orphan, \nthe ignorant, the unevangelized. Or, if you excuse \nyourself, tell the whole truth — say ; \" For my wine, I \ncannot afford it.\" There drives up a carriage. It \nis in fine style ; one servant on the box, and one be- \nhind — a noble span. Yet the gentleman and lady \nwho ride in that carriage, when one comes and tells \nthem of the poor heathen who are groping their way \nin the dark to eternity, haughtily, perhaps, reply \nthat they have nothing to give. O no, they cannot \ngive, for they must ride in state, But here is another \nwho dresses and lives very plainly ; yet he cannot \nafford it. Why, what is the matter 1 0, his money is \nin the stocks, and he cannot touch the principal ; \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 133 \n\nand there are his children for whom he must make \na liberal provision. \n\nFriend, hear me : you can afford it, if you will. \nIf you have not the ability, you can acquire it. You \ncan earn more ; or you can save more. You can \nspend less. You can afford it out of your furniture, \nyour dress, your table, your equipage — or, perhaps, \nover and above it all. You can afford it, and you \nought to afford it. You must afford it. Come, now, \nand resolve that you will. Say no more, \" I cannot \nafford it,\" but \" I will afford it.\" You can afford to \nindulge yourself when you wish — to take your plea- \nsure — to gratify your children. And can you not \nafford to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, and \nto send the balm of life abroad into a diseased and \ndying world 1 It is very strange ! Are you a Chris- \ntian ? As for me, \" I cannot afford not to give \" — \nthere is so much gain in giving — so much loss in \nnot giving, that if I cannot afford any thing else, I \nmust afford this. Some say they are too poor to \ngive, but I am too poor not to give ; and, moreover, \nI can no longer afford to give so little as heretofore \nI have given. Indeed, I must sow more bountifully, \nfor I want to reap also bountifully. This parsimony \nin the use of seed money is poor policy. \n\n\n\n12 \n\n\n\n134 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n26. An Example of Liberality. \n\nI am going to give an example of liberality. Bu ( \nwhere do you think I am going to take it from, an \nwhat persons hold up as an example of liberality ? \nNot Christians, though there were in the apostolic \nage of Christianity notable examples of liberality, \nmany disciples literally doing as did their Master, \nimpoverishing themselves for his cause ; and though \nsince that time there have been others, and are now \nnot a few of a kindred spirit. The example I pro- \npose to give is taken from the history of the Jews. \nSome will wonder that I go to the Jews for an ex- \nample of liberality. But I wish, for my part, that \nChristians were only as generous as the Jews once \nwere, whatever they may be now. \n\nThe case to which I refer is related in Exodus, \nchapter 35. The tabernacle was to be erected and \nfurnished ; and for this purpose various and very \nprecious materials were requisite. He who gave \nhis people bread and water by miracle, could have \nmiraculously furnished all that was necessary for \nthe tabernacle, just as he can now convert the hea- \nthen without the help of men and means. But he \ndid not choose to do it, as now he does not choose to \nsave the world without employing human instrumen- \ntality. God does not every thing which he is able \nto do. Some people seem to think that they are un- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 135 \n\nder no obligation to attempt any thing which God \ncan do without them. \n\nThe plan adopted for obtaining the materials was \nthis. Moses, in a full assembly of the people, gave \nthe following notice : \" This is the thing which the \nLord commanded, saying, Take ye from among you \nan offering unto the Lord ; whosoever is of a willing \nheart, let him bring it, an offering of the Lord ; gold, \nand silver, and brass,\" &c. This was all the agency \nthat was employed for the collection of all those \ncostly materials. How in contrast stands this to our \nnecessarily numerous, expensive, and laborious agen- \ncies ! Here was a simple notice given ; a bare state- \nment made that such and such things were wanted. \nNor were the people called on to give on the spot, \nor to pledge their donations. Thty were not taken \nunawares, and hurried into an exercise of liberality. \nTime was given them for consideration. After the \nnotice the congregation was dismissed. Nor was it \nmade the absolute duly of the people to give. A \ncommand was indeed issued on the subject, but indi- \nviduals were left free to give or not, as they pleased. \n\" Whosoever is of a willing heart, let him bring it.\" \nAnd it appears from Exodus, 25 : 2, where the sub- \nject is first introduced, that Moses was not to receive \nany offering that was not given willingly and cheer- \nfully. \" Of every man that giveth it willingly with \nhis heart, ye shall take my offering.\" \n\nBy the way, may not this be a rule which should \n\n\n\n136 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbe regarded now — not to receive an offering into the \nLord's treasury, if there be any evidence of its be- \ning reluctantly given ? If nothing was to be re- \nceived for the work of the tabernacle, but what was \ngiven with the heart, why should heartless donations \nbe accepted for the edification and extension of the \nchurch ? It has occurred to me, that perhaps one \nreason why the means which our benevolent socie- \nties employ effect no more — why our Bibles and \nTracts, and the labors of our Missionaries, are not \nmore extensively blessed, is, that these operations \nare not sustained and carried on by purely free-will \nofferings. A great deal that goes to sustain them is \ngrudgingly given. I know it may be said that if we \nreject all but free-will offerings, our means will not \nsuffice. If that should be the case, yet I doubt not \nless money, cheerfully contributed, would accomplish \nmore than a larger amount drawn out of the pockets \nof an unwilling and complaining people. But I do \nnot believe that the sum total of receipts would be \nless. Was there any deficiency in the offerings con- \ntributed for the tabernacle ? So far from it, there was \ni superabundance. The artisans came and told Mo- \nses, saying, \" The people bring much more than \nenough for the service of the work.\" Accordingly, \nMoses forbade any more offerings being brought. \n- So the people were restrained from bringing, for \nthe stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to \nmake it, and too much.\" The liberality went far \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 137 \n\nbeyond the necessity. Christians give now no such \nexamples of liberality for the church. Noic much \nless than enough is received ; and that, though the \nnotice is oft repeated — and though more than a mere \nnotice is given — though warm and earnest appeals \nare made, and the greatest urgency used ; and though \nnew arguments are employed, such as could not \nhave been used with these Jews. What a founda- \ntion for argument and appeal is laid in the love and \ndeath of Christ ! What convincing force — what per- \nsuasive efficacy ought there not to be to the mind and \nheart of every follower of Jesus, in the logic of that \npassage which Paul used so successfully with the \nCorinthians ! \" Ye know the grace of our Lord \nJesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your \nsakes he became poor, that ye, through his poverty, \nmight be rich.\" The Jews did not know that. Yet \nhow liberally they gave ! — more than enough ! But \nnow, with all our knowledge, less than enough is \nreceived ; and that, though after the public applica- \ntion and appeal are made, the people are waited on, \nand the application and appeal are renewed in pri- \nvate. Moses sent no one round, from tent to tent, to \ngather the contributions of the people. No. These \nJews brought them. But, ah, how little do Chris- \ntians now bring to the treasury of the Lord ! How \nsmall a proportion of the money used for the work \nof the Lord is brought ! No. It has to be sent after. \nThe benevolence of the church now complies. It \n12* \n\n\n\n138 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ndoes not offer. It does, to be sure, stand still and \ndo some good ; but it does not go about doing good. \nAll the labor and trouble connected with giving is \ndeclined. It is considered now-a-days to be a very \ngood excuse for not giving to a well-known object \nof benevolence, if the person can say that he has \nnot been called on to give. Not called on ! Did your \nMaster wait to be called on ? Did his charity defer \nits action until application was made to it ? Formerly \nit was held that the disciple should be as his master. \nIn other days Christ was regarded as the model, and \nthat Christianity was not thought any thing of which \ndid not include an imitation of Christ. \n\nWould it not be considered as a very unwise pro- \nceeding on the part of an agent now, should he, af- \nter stating an object, immediately dismiss the people, \nand leave it entirely optional Avith them to give or \nnot? Would he be likely to hear from all of them \nagain ? But Moses did so. He dismissed them ; \" and \nall the congregation of the children of Israel departed \nfrom the presence of Moses.\" But the very next \nverse says, \" they came and brought the Lord's offer- \ning.\" There was nothing lost to the cause by this \narrangement. \" They came, both men and women, \nas many as were willing-hearted.\" They all did it \ncheerfully. \n\nBut some may say, \" It is no wonder they gave ; \nwhat use had they in the wilderness for their money \nand substance?\" But observe what articles they con- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 189 \n\ntributed. Gold, and silver, and precious stones, which \nmen value, whether they have any particular use for \nthem or not. Nor these only, but their personal or- \nnaments, \"bracelets, and ear-rings, and rings, and \ntablets, all jewels of gold.\" You see they gave things \nwhich are valued under all circumstances. Nor \ncould it be said that they gave generously because \nthey were in prosperous business. Some persons \nsay they are always willing to give freely when they \nare making money. Now, the Israelites were not \nmaking money, nor were they passing through a \ngold country, yet they gave liberally — far beyond \nthe liberality of prosperous Christians generally. \nNor was it a single donation they made. We read \nin the 36th chapter, \" and they brought yet unto him \nfree offerings every morning.\" They kept it up from \nday to day ; and how long they would have gone \non, if not restrained from giving more, no one can \ntell. I wonder when we shall have to restrain Chris- \ntians from giving. What a different state of things \nwe find now ! We talk about \" stubborn Jews, that \nunbelieving race;\" but there was one generation of \nthem, at least, that were not near as obstinate in \nholding on to their money and substance as the pre- \nsent race of Christians. \n\n\n\n140 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n27. Another Example of Liberality. \n\nThe first example was taken from the history of \nthe Jews. The one I am now to give is taken from \nthe records of Christianity. And yet it is not in any \nhistory of the modem church that I find it. They \nare not the Christians of the present day that I am \ngoing to hold up as a model of bountifulness. The \nreader will find the account in the eighth and ninth \nchapters of the second Epistle to the Corinthians. \nIt relates to the Christians of Macedonia. Paul, \nwishing to excite the Corinthians to the exercise of \nliberality, tells them what their brethren of Macedo- \nnia had done — how liberally they had given. The \naccount is very remarkable in several respects. \n\n1. These Macedonian Christians gave, though \nthey were very poor — in \" deep poverty,\" ch. 8, v. 2. \nThey had the best of all excuses for not giving. They \nmight, with the greatest propriety, have pleaded po- \nverty. I do not see, for my part, how they gave at \nall. But somehow or other they made out to give, \nand to give liberally. Their poverty does not seem \nto have stood in their way in the least. It is even \nsaid that \" their deep poverty abounded unto the \nriches of their liberality.\" Now, if their deep poverty \nso abounded, it occurs to me to ask, what would not \ntheir great riches have done, had they been as \nwealthy as some American Christians ? The truth \nis, as the proverb says, \" when there is a will, there \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 141 \n\nis always a way.\" Having it in their heart to give, \nthey contrived by dint of some ingenuity, and not a \nlittle self-denial, to get it into their power to give. \nSuch liberal souls had they, that it made their very \npoverty abound unto the riches of their liberality. \n\n2. They gave not only to the full extent of their \nability, but even beyond it. \" For to their power, (I \nbear record,) yea, and beyond their power,\" they \ngave. So testifies the apostle. The Christians of \nour day do not give more than they are able. I wish \nit could be said that they give according to their abil- \nity. Note, the idea of giving as much as one any \nway can, is almost laughed at. But it was no joke \nin former times. But how did they contrive to give \nbeyond their power, some one will ask. This looks a \nlittle contradictory. Well, I suppose it means that \nthey gave beyond what, on the usual principles of \ncomputation, would have been judged to be their \nability ; and that on the score of justice, and even of \ngenerosity, they might have been let off for less. \n\n\" What improvident persons ! \" some will say. \n\" How they must have neglected their families ! Are \nwe not told to provide for our own, and that he who \ndoes not, has denied the faith, and is worse than an \ninfidel ?\" Yes, we are told so. But for all that it \ndoes not appear that these Macedonians were cen- \nsured as worse than infidels. They were even com- \nmended as Christians, whose example was worthy \nof all imitation. \n\n\n\n142 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS, \n\n3. They gave ivillingiy, verse 3. They did not \ngive beyond their disposition, though they did be- \nyond their ability. They had it in their hearts to give \neven more. It was done, \" not grudgingly or of ne- \ncessity,\" No one said, as is sometimes said now, \nM well, I suppose I must give you something.\" Nor \nwas their willingness the effect of any appeals made \nto them. They were \" willing of themselves!' 1 the \napostle testifies. It was entirely spontaneous. The \napostles had not to entreat them to give ; but they \nhad earnestly to entreat the apostles to receive their \ngift. \" Praying us with much entreaty that we would \nreceive the gift.\" It is not so now. Now, the beg- \nging is too much on the other side. \n\n4. They gave altogether beyond the apostles' ex- \npectations. \" Not as we hoped,\" says Paul. Our \nagents are not often so agreeably disappointed. \nTheir fears are more apt to be realized, than their \nhopes exceeded. \n\n5. But I see how it was they came to give so libe- \nrally. It was owing to \"the grace of God bestowed \" \non them, as it is said in verse 1. That always makes \npeople liberal. Grace is a generous principle. There \nis nothing opens the heart like it. Under the influ- \nence of this grace they \" first gave their own selves \nto the Lord.\" Now when a man has given away \nhimself, it is easy to give what only appertains to \nhim. The great matter is to give the person. The \nproperty follows as a matter of course. Indeed it is \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 143 \n\nincluded in the first gift. I suppose the reason that \nsome give no more property to the Lord's cause, is \nthat they have not given themselves to him. They \nhave not begun right. \n\n6. I suppose also that these Macedonians were in- \nfluenced to the exercise of liberality by the considera- \ntion which Paul uses with the Corinthians in verse \n9. \" Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, \nthat though he was rich,\" &c. They thought that \nthe disciples ought to do like their Master. I con- \nclude, moreover, that they held the doctrine, that giv- \ning is sowing, and that men reap in proportion to \nwhat they sow ; and since they wished to reap boun- \ntifully, they sowed bountifully. They knew too that \nGod was able to make all grace abound toward \nthem ; that they, always having all sufficiency in all \nthings, might abound to every good work, ch. 9, \nverse 8. They were not at all concerned about the \nconsequences of their liberality. \n\nIt should not be forgotten that they gave for the \nbenefit of people a great way off — the poor saints at \nJerusalem. They might have said that they had ob- \njects enough at home, and where was the necessity \nof going abroad for them. But it seems distance had \nnot that weight with them that it has with some \nnow. The wants of the poor saints at Jerusalem \ntouched their hearts, and they contributed for their \nrelief, though they were poor, very poor themselves. \nI don't know but I might have made it with propriety \n\n\n\n144 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\na distinct head, that they seem to have been evea \npoorer than those for whom they gave ; for theirs \nwas deep poverty. When we give to evangelize poor \nsouls in heathen lands, we don't give to those who \nare as well off as we are. We have no such objects \nat home as they are. Finally, what a noble example \nof liberality is here ! How worthy of imitation by \nAmerican Christians ! We need much that the spi- \nrit of these men of Macedonia should come over and \nhelp us. \n\n\n\n38. More about Liberality. \n\nIn my opinion there is nothing which lays the \nchurch more open to infidel attack and contempt, \nthan its parsimony to the cause of Christ. Profes- \nsors of religion, in general, give nothing in com- \nparison to what they ought to give. Some literally \ngive nothing, or somewhere in that immediate neigh- \nborhood. I shall not inquire whether such persons \nare really Christian men. One might almost ques- \n*ion whether they are human. \n\nI have used the word give ; I must correct my \nlanguage. Deliver up, I ought to say, when speak- \ning of Christians who have so often acknowledged \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 145 \n\nthemselves as not their own, but themselves and \ntheir 1 s to be the Lord's. Not a cent, or not much \nmore, will some of these deliver up of all that their \nLord has given them in trust. What stewards we \nChristians are ! We act as if we were undisputed \nowners and sovereign proprietors of all; when we \nknow, and if pressed, acknowledge, it is no such \nthing. The infidels know that we profess to be but \nstewards, and that, in our devotional hours, we write \non every thing we have, \" This is the Lord's ;\" and \nthey naturally expect to see some correspondence \nbetween our profession and practice ; and when they \nperceive that in this instance it is but bare profession, \nand that we do not mean any thing by it, they are \nvery apt to conclude that this is true of our religion \ngenerally. Moreover, these shrewd characters see \ncommon humanity constraining, men of the world \nto greater liberality than the love of Christ con- \nstrains his reputed disciples to exercise ; and that, \nthough they hear Christians continually saying that \nthere is no principle which has such power to carry \nmen out to deeds and sacrifices of benevolence as \nthe love of Christ. What must they conclude from \nthis 1 Either that there is no such principle, or that \nChristians do not feel the force of it. \n\nAgain : Infidels hear us speak of giving, as lend- \ning to the Lord. Now, they don't believe any such \nthing ; but since we do, they are astonished that we \ndo not lend more liberally to such a paymaster, and \n13 \n\n\n\n146 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\non such security. They are in the habit of lending \nliberally, and they wonder Christians do not. They \nhear us also repeating and admiring that sentiment, \n\" It is more blessed to give than to receive.\" Must \nthey not think us insincere in our commendations \nof this sentiment, or else that we have very faint as- \npirations after the more blessed part, when they look \non and see with how much more complacency and \ngood humor we receive a great deal, than give a little. \n\nBut about the parsimony of Christians. I do not \nhesitate to say, having well considered the import of \nmy words, that men are not so mean (I must use \nthe word) to any cause as Christians, in general, \nare to Christ's cause. They give more sparingly to \nit than to any other. Just think of the American \nBible Society receiving scarcely one hundred thou- \nsand dollars a-year from these United States, to give \nthe Bible to the country and to the world. There is \none fact for you. More is often given to carry a po- \nlitical election in a single limited district ; and some \nprofessors of religion will give more to promote \nsuch an object than to help on the conversion of the \nworld. I should not wonder if this article were read \nqy some who have done so this very year. \n\nMany persons never give until they have done \nevery thing else ; and when any pressure occurs, it \nis the first thing they stop doing. They go on spend- \ning, not only for necessaries and comforts, but even \nfor luxuries, never minding the pressure. They only \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 147 \n\nstop giving ; commencing retrenchment with their \ndonations, and generally ending it with them. They \nare liberal still for every thing but charity. You \ncould never suppose, to look at their dress, equipage, \nfurniture, table, &c. that the times were any way \nhard. No, they forget that, till they are called on to \ngive ; then they feel the pressure of the times. \n\nThe manner in which some persons give is wor- \nthy of no very commendatory notice. They say, \nwhen applied to, \" Well, I suppose I must give you \nsomething.\" Mark the word must, where will ought \nto be ; and give, where contribute, or strictly speak- \ning, yield up, should have been ; and you — give you. \nIt is no such thing. The man is no beggar. He is \nnot asking any thing for himself. He has himself \ngiven to the same object ; and more than money — his \ntime and thought, his cares and efforts. Nay, per- \nhaps has given his own person to the service which \nhe saks others to aid by their pecuniary contribu- \ntions. Christians, so called, talk of giving to sup- \nport missionaries, as if they laid the missionaries \nunder some obligation to them. Preposterous ! How \nit sounds to hear a British Christian indulge such a \nremark in reference to the richly-gifted, and profound- \nly learned Martyn, who, when he might have shone \nat home, went into the sickly East to hold up the \nlight of life in those dark places ! To call men who \ngive themselves to the work of the Lord, and to la- \nbor and die for their fellow-men, the protegees, ben- \n\n\n\n148 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\neficiaries, and obligated dependants of us who live \nand luxuriate at home, is really too bad ; men, who \nwhen the alternative is to go or send, consent to the \nweightier branch of the alternative, and go ; that they \nshould be looked upon as inferior to us, who choose \nthe lighter part of the alternative, and only send ! I \nsay it is too bad. \"I must give you something!\" \nReally ! \n\nI do not wonder, for my part, that God does not \ngive \" the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness \nof the kingdom under the whole heaven,\" to the \npresent generation of saints. Their souls are not suf- \nficiently expanded to receive it. It will require a race \nof Christians of great hearts to take possession of \nthe world in the name of Jesus — Christians who \nshall be constrained by his love, and who shall feel \nthe full force of the consideration presented in 2 \nCor. 8 : 9. Many Christians now think they feel it ; \nbut is it feeling the force of that consideration for a \nman, who has an income of some thousands a-year, \nto give a few surplus dollars annually to support \nmissions, or to circulate the Bible % I do not say, \nthat because Christ impoverished himself, therefore \nall his followers ought literally to do the same ; but \nI say they ought to come nearer to it than they do. \nIf, being rich, they should not become poor, as he \ndid, yet surely they ought to be more free with their \nriches. If the master gave his whole principal, cer- \ntainly the disciples might give their interest. That \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 149 \n\nwould not be too closely imitating him. If he emp- \ntied himself, they at least might forego farther accu- \nmulation. They need not become poor ; but why \nshould they be so solicitous to become more rich ? \nThat is being as unlike the model as possible. \n\n\n\n39. A Tract Effort. \n\n\n\nWe had a meeting last night in one of our churches \nto raise the sum of one thousand dollars in aid of the \nAmerican Tract Society's foreign operations. The \nnotice was general in the churches ; and to many in- \ndividuals repeated in the shape of a printed request \nsent to them on the day of the meeting. The evening \ncame, and it was one of the finest we ever have ; \nnot a cloud, and the moon shining forth in her full- \nest splendor — emulating, to her utmost, the light of \nthe orb of day. We had not, however, a very large \nmeeting. \n\nFew, even of our church members, can be per- \nsuaded to adopt that sentiment of the Savior, that \" it \nis more blessed to give than to receive.\" Many are \nunable to conceal the sceptical smile, when it is \ngravely advanced and urged as an argument for li- \nberality. More blessed to give ! There is nothing in \n13* \n\n\n\n150 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthem that responds to that sentiment. Yet Jesus said \nit seriously. He meant what he said ; and some of \nhis dear followers know in their hearts that it is so. \nThey experience the superior blessedness of giving. \nFar more delightful to them is the feeling when \nthey communicate, than the feeling when they re- \nceive ; and giving leaves an impression of pleasure \non the soul which no other act does or can. To be \ncapable of communicating ! What a privilege ! they \nexclaim. It is to be like God, who all things gives, \nbut nought receives, save the gratitude and praise \nof his innumerable pensioners and dependants. \nThese persons give now as they pray, almost for- \ngetting it is a duty, so occupied are their souls with \na feeling that it is a privilege. \n\nBut we met to promote a. foreign object ; and that \nmade against us with some. The distance of the \nheathen from us was even pleaded by one as an ar- \ngument against contributing. They are so far off. \nSo far off — my thoughts dwelt on these words — and \nI reflected thus : \" They are not so far off from us, \nas angels are from men. Yet angels come over the \ndistance to minister to men. No part of earth is so \nfar from any other part, as earth from heaven ; yet, \ndid not the benevolence of the Son of God bring him \nacross that long interval of space ? How have we \nhis spirit, if our benevolence cannot carry us the \nlength and breadth of this little continuous earth ? \nWhat if the object be foreign ? Earth was more fo- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 151 \n\nreign to heaven. The man that argues against mis- \nsions as foreign, is not aware perhaps that his argu- \nment assails the mission of the Son of God, and would \nprove the incarnation to have been an unwise mea- \nsure. But is it foreign ? What ! one spot of earth \nforeign to another, and man an alien to man ! Chris- \ntianity teaches a different lesson — that earth is but \none great habitation, and men but one extended bro- \ntherhood. O shall we, who have been visited by a ben- \nefactor from the skies, think any part of earth too dis- \ntant for our charity to explore ! Jesus thought it not \nso when he said, \" Go ye into all the world.\" If the \nargument of distance had prevailed with others, we \nhad never heard of Jesus. Was not Britian far off? \nYet Christian missionaries visited it. I wonder that \nthis circumstance should be forgotten. Was that a \nQuixotic enterprise which resulted in the conver- \nsion of our ancestors 1 If not, how is that Quixotic \nwhich undertakes the conversion of a nation now in \nheathenism 1 Too distant ! There was something \nformidable in distance once. But what is distance \nnow ? With the star, and the compass, and the sail, \nand the steam, and man's skill to construct, and \ncourage to dare, and fortitude to endure, what, I ask, \nis distance ? Diminished almost to being annihilated. \nWhither has not man gone for his own objects? \nWhither shall he not go for Christ's ? Shall curiosi- \nty, the love of science, the passion for adventure, the \nlust of gain, carry men farther than the love of Christ \n\n\n\n152 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\\ \n\nshall constrain them to go ? O never. There is no \nforce in the objection. \n\nIt was, notwithstanding all, a good meeting. \nThose who were present gave liberally, and with the \nhelp of the ladies we shall more than make up the \nsum we proposed. I know some think these women \nought not to labor with us in the gospel. But why \nnot these, as well as \" those women \" which labored \nwith Paul in the gospel, of whom he makes such \nrespectful mention in his epistle to the Philippians ? \nWas it proper then to use their aid, and not now % \nMay they not do what they can for Christ as well \nas their sister whom Christ commended for having \ndone what she could ? Were they not women whom \nChrist sent on the first errand he wanted done after \nhis resurrection ? \" Go tell my brethren that they go \ninto Galilee, and there shall they see me.\" May not \nsuch as went on that errand, go on that greater er- \nrand : \" Go ye and teach all nations . ? \" May they \nnot at least promote the going of others ? What, are \nwomen the followers of Jesus Christ, and may they \nnot, as their Master did, go about doing good ? \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 153 \n\n\n\n30. Why the World Should Have the Bible. \n\nThere are a great many reasons why the world \nshould h-\\ve the Bible. The reasons are so nume- \nrous, substantial and urgent, that I wonder any should \nhave doubts about it. And I wonder that we who \nhave the Bible, and think so much of it, and have \nsuch xneans of multiplying and circulating copies of \nit, do not resolve at once to attempt, within a reason- \nable neriod, to give it to the world, since the world \ncan only have it by the gift of those in Avhose pos- \nsession it now is. If it is time that they had it — high \ntime, as I suppose no one will deny, it is time we had \nat least resolved to try to let them have it. I wonder \nthe great national Societies hesitate to resolve to try \nto fill the world with Bibles within a given period. \nNo individual or society knows what it can do till a \ntrial is made ; we can never foresee our ability to ac- \ncomplish a great enterprise. They must always be \nundertaken in faith. I consider it quite as hazardous \nto predict that the world God has created and up- \nholds cannot be put in possession of his Word in some \ntwenty or thirty years, as to predict that it can. This \nmay seem a short time for us to fill the world with \nBibles, but it is a long time for them to be without \nBibles. I think it is always best to resolve on that \nwhich ought to be done, and which greatly needs to \nbe done, especially when one knows that the thing \n\n\n\n154 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nis to be done within some period, and when the re- \nsolution is hut to make the attempt, and even that is \ndone only in reliance on divine help. A man may \nresolve on a great deal, when he is authorized to \nrely, and does actually rely on God to aid him in \nexecuting it. He may take on him a great weight of \nresponsibility when he has such support. One can \ndo all things through Christ strengthening him ; and \ncannot some hundreds of thousands of Christians fill \nthe world with Bibles through the same ? \n\nWhy should not the efforts of the friends of Christ \nextend as far as do those of the foes of Christ? \nThere is Satan and his associates. They go for the \nwhole world. When the Lord asked Satan whence \nhe came, he answered, \" From going to and fro in \nthe earth, and from walking up and down in it.\" \nHe had been over the whole ground. And shall not \nwe go over the whole ground ? Shall we not go as \nfar seeking whom we may save, as he \" seeking \nwhom he may devour ?\" I know that he is a very \npowerful being, and we are weak ; but he is not al- \nmighty, whereas, though we are not, our glorious \nAlly is. \n\nI know too that the foes of Christ are united, and \nherein have a great advantage ; while the friends of \nChrist are any thing but united. That desire which \nthe Savior expressed, \" that they all may be one,\" \nremains to be accomplished : and while that is the \ncase, no wonder the world does not believe that God \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 155 \n\nhas sent him. John 17 : 21. Christ does not seem to \nhave expected that the world would believe, until \nhis disciples were one. Now, they are not one, nor \neven two, but many. These friends have so many \ndisputes to settle among themselves, that I do not \nknow -when they will be ready to proceed against \nthe common foe. No other being ever had such di- \nvided friends as Christ. I do not say that all their \ncontroversies are unimportant, but I say they are \nnone of them as important as the Lord's controversy \nAvith the earth. \n\nBut there is another more touching reason why \nthe whole world should have the Bible as soon as \npossible. My mind has recently laid great stress \nupon it, and it was for the sake of presenting it that I \nundertook this article. Every part of earth is a vale \nof tears, and man is universally a mourner. Afflic- \ntion is, or is to be, the lot of all. \" Man is born to \ntrouble,\" and no one can alienate this birthright. \nNow the Bible is the mourner's own and only book. \nThere is nothing will do for him but this. Other \n)ooks have been tried and found wanting. They do \n•ot go to the heart like God's. They don't wipe \niway a tear. But the Bible tells us of a hand that \nwipes away all tears from our eyes. And it is the \nvery hand that made us. What a picture the Bible \npresents ! One everlasting arm underneath a man to \nsupport him, and the hand of the other wiping away \nhis tears as they flow ! Was ever any thing like it ? \n\n\n\n156 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nThat picture ought to be exhibited every where. I \nhave read what Howe, and Watts, and Flavel, and \nBaxter and Cecil, and I do not know how many others, \nhave written for mourners, and it is all very well ; \nbut what is it all to what I have read in the La- \nmentations of Jeremiah, \" he doth not afflict \nwillingly !\" Ah, there is more than half the hu- \nman race that think he does afflict willingly. The \ncholera is regarded by the Hindoos as the cruel \nsport of one of their goddesses. O ho»v it would \nlighten the sorrows of these mourners, did they but \nknow that it is no one of a plurality of gods, but the \nLord that afflicts them, and that he does it not wil- \nlingly ! Can we not in a quarter of a century give \nthem this information ? But this is only one of I \nknow not how many similar passages. There is \nanother that goes even beyond this ? \" In all their \nafflictions He was afflicted !\" Here is sympathy for \nyou — divine sympathy. Dost thou feel ? He feels \ntoo. Does not the pitier always suffer as well as the \npitied 1 Well, \" like as a father pitieth his children, \nso the Lord pitieth.'\"' Such ideas as these never \ncrossed a pagan mind. It never even occurred to \nhim that God is a father. \n\nI have thought how one of us in our affliction \nwould like to be without the Bible, and what we \nwould not give under such circumstances to obtain \nit; whether we would not give more to have it for \nourselves, than we now sfive that the other members \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 157 \n\nof the great family of mourners may have it. I \nthink we should increase our subscription to the Bi- \nble Society. We would not like to go along the vale \nof tears, and through the valley of the shadow of \ndeath, into which the former sometimes so suddenly \nsinks, without the 23d Psalm in our possession. \n\n\n\n31. Mrs. M. Ii. NeviaiS. \n\nWill you allow a friend, in his affliction, to oc- \ncupy a little space in your valuable paper, with a \nsubject deeply interesting to himself and to a few of \nyour readers. Other readers can pass it by as des- \ntitute of general interest, and when their turn of be- \nreavement comes, let them be indulged the like pri- \nvilege of consecrating their private griefs on the \npublic page. \n\nThe following notice was inserted in the secular \nnewspapers of Baltimore, of November 12. \n\n\" Died, on Saturday, November 8, 1834, after a \nshort illness, Mrs. Mary Lloyd, Avife of the Rev. W. \nNevins, aged 33 years. Though she fell a victim \nto the dreadful pestilence, yet she suffered no pain, \nand felt no terror, but with sweet submission to the \ndivine will — with perfect confidence in the merits of \n14 \n\n\n\n158 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nher Redeemer, and in humble hope of eternal life \nthrough his atonement, she gently breathed her spirit \nout to God, and left her body to sleep in Jesus until \nthe morning of the resurrection.\" \n\nFor the secular newspaper that sufficed. But as \none object of your publication is to record the doings \nof divine grace, a more extended memorial of what \nthat grace did for the subject of this notice, espe- \ncially in her last brief illness, cannot be out of place \nin its columns. \n\nMrs. Nevins was the daughter of the late Philip \nBarton Key, Esq. and was born in Georgetown, \nD. C. the 27th of August, A. D. 1801. For several \nyears it was her privilege to enjoy the public minis- \ntry, and to receive the pastoral attentions of the Rev. \nC. P. Mcllvaine, then rector of an Episcopal church \nin that place, and now bishop of the diocess of Ohio. \nFor her soul he felt the tenderest concern. His pray- \ners, his vigilance, and his efforts for its salvation \nwere unremitted and untiring. Nor did he labor in \nvain. By the blessing of God on his fidelity, it is \nbelieved she became, in 1821, a subject of divine \ngrace, and gave up the world for Christ. In one of \nher last conversations she spoke of this beloved man \nin terms of such affection as can be felt alone to- \nwards those who have been the instruments, in the \nhand of God, of winning souls to Christ. She felt \nthat under God she owed every thing to him. \n\nIn November, 1822, she became the wife of the \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 159 \n\nRev. W. Nevins, and removed to Baltimore, the \nscene of his ministry, where she continued to reside \nuntil her death. Of her devotedness as a wife, a \ndaughter, a sister, a mother, a friend, the writer of \nthis could speak in terms of unmeasured eulogy ; \nbut 't is enough that her record in this respect is \nengraven indelibly on many hearts. Her attach- \nment to the cause of Christ was intelligent, sincere, \nand uniform. \n\nUp to the evening of the 7th of November, she \nwas, with an exception, aeemed scarcely worthy of \nnotice, in the possession of perfect health. It has \nbeen said of the cholera that it begins where other \ndiseases end — with death. Almost literally true was \nthis in her case, In a few hours after she was at- \ntacked, it became evident to those around her, and to \nherself, that the mortal blow had been struck. She \nneeded no one to tell her of it ; she felt within her- \nself that life was fast ebbing away, and said of the \nweariness upon her, that it must be the weariness of \ndeath. When a friend, who stood by her, expressed \nher sorrow that she should take such a view of her \ncase, she said, \" Remember who hath said all things \nshall work together for our good. I submit to his \nwill, and desire that he may do with me as seemeth \nto him good ; though it is very painful to be separa- \nted from my dear husband and my sweet children. \nBut I commit them all into the hands of the Savior. \nIt will be a short separation, and then we shall meet \n\n\n\n160 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS, \n\nto part no more.\" Being asked if she felt afraid to \ndie, she replied, \" No : I had always expected that \nthe prospect of death would almost frighten me out \nof existence ; but now it has no terrors. I rely on \nJesus, and feel I shall be happy when I die. It is \nbetter to depart and be with him, where I shall be \ncompletely freed from sin.\" To the friend already \nreferred to, she said, \" M. our intercourse here will \nsoon be over. We have had many sweet and pleasant \nhours together ; now I am going from you to my \nprecious Jesus. Precious Jesus ! Whom have I in \nheaven but thee ?\" Seeing her friend agitated and \nweeping, she said, \" You must not do so. I am \nhappy, very happy ; and you must all pray that my \neyes may be fixed on the glories of crucified love to \nthe last.\" \n\nOnce, with a sweet expression of countenance, \nshe said, \" How much is implied in those words : \nThe peace of God which passeth all understanding !\" \nShe was asked if she relied on Jesus. She answer- \ned, \"Entirely.\" Often she was interrogated as to \nhis presence with her, and her replies were uni- \nformly satisfactory. On one occasion, appearing to \nbe engaged in deep thought, she was asked what \nshe was thinking of. She said, \" Mercy.\" Jesus \nand mercy — those are what the dying should think \nof. Much on her lips, and more in her thoughts was \nthat name — name above every name — Jesus ! \" O, \nLord Jesus, place underneath me thy everlasting \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 161 \n\narms ! Jesus, receive my spirit ! O, Lord Jesus, re- \nceive me on the other side of Jordan !\" were among \nher prayers to him. Nor did her heart spend its \nemotions in prayer alone ; it was attuned to praise. \nShe said, \" I want a hymn sung.\" What hymn? it \nwas asked, \" The hymn about crossing over Jordan,\" \nshe said : and it was sung ; and soon after she cross- \ned the stream — the narrow stream of death. Nor \ndid Jesus wait for her on Canaan's bright side of \nthe stream, but he came over to earth's dark shore \nof it, and himself took her across. That stream must \nbe narrow, it was so soon passed ; and all was so \ncalm, there could not have been a ripple on its sur- \nface. O death, where was thy sting ? O grave ! A \nfeeble, fearful female, with only a few hours to arm \nherself for the conflict, and to take leave of her babes, \nmet thee, and was more than victor through Him \nwho gave her the victory ! \n\n«' Is that a death-bed where a Christian lies 1 \n\" Yes ; but not his — 'tis death, itself, there dies.' \n\n\n\n33. What Strange Beings We Are ! \n\nHow unreasonable ! How inconsistent with our- \nselves ! Even we, who are Christians. God does the \nvery thing we ask him to do ; and yet we complain \n\n\n\n162 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nof him, or grieve immoderately, and almost incon- \nsolably, because he does it ! We ask that his will \nmay be done ; which implies, that our will, if it be \nin contrariety to his, should not be done ; and this \nwe sometimes in so many words express : \" Not as \nwe will, but as thou wilt. 1 ' Well, God does his will, \nthe very thing we wanted him to do ; and yet we \ncomplain that he does not our will, the thing we de- \nprecated his doing. We complain that he hears our \nprayer and grants us the desire of our heart. Was \never complaint so unreasonable % If, when we asked \nhim to do his will, he had done ours, there would \nhave been some semblance of reason for our com- \nplaint. Will we say that we never meant, in our \nhearts, what the terms of our petition expressed — that \nwe never really desired his will should be done 1 ? \nWill any one acknowledge that he has uniformly \nbeen a hypocrite in the use of the Lord's prayer % \nCertainly, then, he ought not to complain that God \nhas detected and chastised his hypocrisy. But, if he \nwas sincere — if he desired what he asked for, then \nif he complains, he complains that God has gratified \nhis desire. How perverse it is in a creature to say \nto God, time after time, when craving good, or de- \nprecating evil, \" Nevertheless, not as I will, but as \nthou wilt ;\" and then, because it is as God wills, and \nnot as he wills, to think hard of God ! \n\nEvery one who prays \" Thy will be done,\" is \naware that the will of God does not always coincide \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 163 \n\nwith the inclinations of his creatures. It were won- \nderful if it should — wonderful indeed, if the will of \nan omniscient and infinitely perfect being should \nuniformly fall in with the capricious desires and in- \nclinations of those who are finite, fallible, and sinful. \nOur own inclinations do not agree with each other. \nWe are the subjects of conflicting desires : the will \nof God could not coincide with our inclinations with- \nout coinciding with contraries. Well, the prayer \n\" Thy will be done,\" which we all consent to use, \nrecognizing this want of coincidence, begs that in \nall such cases God will cause his will to be done \nrather than ours. It is a most reasonable request ; \nno wonder God should comply with it. And yet we \ncomplain that in such cases of disagreement he does \nnot carry out our inclinations instead of his own will. \nIt is well, in view of such perverseness, that we have \nto do with a God of infinite patience. How very \nslow to anger our God is ! \ni But I have not stated the case yet in all its strength. \nComplaint against God would be altogether unrea- \nsonable, if he caused only his will to be done. But \nwhile he causes his own, he causes our will also to \nbe done ; for it is our will, as we have told him, over \nand over again, that his will should be done. Why \nshould he not gratify the inclination of ours, that his \nwill should be done, as well as any other inclination \nwhich we have ; for example, the inclination to re- \ntain a certain earthly enjoyment ? He cannot gratify \n\n\n\n164 PRACTICAL TOUGHTS. \n\nour every inclination, for the gratification of one \nwould be the denial of another. He must make a \nselection. It is not his fault that we have warring \ninclinations. He did not make us so ; it is one of the \ninventions we have sought out. It belongs to us as \nmarred by ourselves. Will it be said that God se- \nlects the less worthy inclination to gratify ? I think \nnot. What worthier inclination can we have, than \nthat God's will should be done ? \n\nIs it the pain of having an inclination crossed, of \nwhich we complain ? But let us complain of our- \nselves, that we have inclinations which need to be \ncrossed. And, besides, would it give us no pain were \nwe to discover, that in a particular instance, God \nsubmitted his own will to our inclination, and suf- \nfered us to be gratified in a certain respect, when his \njudgment was against it? \n\nFellow-Christians, we must give up the use of \nthat petition, \" Thy will be done,\" or else act more \nconsistently. It will not do to be daily asking a thing, \nand daily lamenting that the thing is granted. If we \nwould have our will done, let us alter the petition, \nand say, \" Our will be done.\" Let us be sincere, if \nwe are nothing else. Let us tell the Lord the very \ndesires we have, however wrong they may be. That \nis better, certainly, than to have such desires, and \ntell him the contrary. \n\nBut I would by no means advise the alteration. I \nthink we had much better keep to the old form, and \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 165 \n\npray as the Lord taught his disciples. Yes, let us \ngo on to say, \" Thy will be done.\" It is our hea- \nvenly Father whom we address. Surely his children \nneed not fear to have his will done. Let us consent \nwith our whole heart that his will should be done, \nand towards us as well as towards others ; and not \nmerely in some things, but in all things ; for why \nshould not all his will be done, as well as any part \nof it ? If we do so, by and by we shall have no incli- \nnations contrary to his will. We shall be incapable \nof cross or disappointment. Every thing being as he \nwould have it, would be also as we would have it. \nIf now a part of his will be hidden, until events \ndisclose it, yet in other respects it is already revealed. \nWe know, for instance, that it is our Father's good \npleasure to give us the kingdom ; and that it is our \ndivine Savior's will that we should be with him \nwhere he is, that we may behold his glory. For the \npresent let this suffice us. We shall be satisfied, when \nwe awake in his likeness. In this expectation we \nshould.be satisfied now. Let us suffer God to reign, \nand let us not aspire to be his counselors. He taketh \nno counsel of any. \n\n\n\n166 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n33. \"What very Strange Beings \\vc are. \n\nYes ! What very strange beings we are ! We, \nwho are sinners, expect to be treated with more de- \nference than the innocent and holy. Their will is \nnot done ; nor do they desire it should be. We, who \nare of earth, expect privileges, as we in our igno- \nrance account them, which they of heaven never \nthink of claiming — the privilege, if not of holding \nthe reins of government, yet of directing how they \nshould be held; and of having things move on ac- \ncording to our inclinations. But should men, who \nare \" of yesterday, and know nothing,\" rule, when \nangels, of an intellectual growth of thousands of \nyears, cast their crowns at Jehovah's feet, and de- \ncline every thing but the most entire subjection? \n\nBut this is not all. We, who are the sons of God \nbut by adoption, expect to be treated better than even \nGod's only-begotten Son. Did not he suffer? And \nis it a mystery that we should ? Was he \" acquaint- \ned with grief,\" and shall we deem it strange and in- \nexplicable that we should have experience of the \nsame ? Why should we marvel that the cup we de- \nprecate does not pass from our lips, when a far \nmore bitter cup did not pass from him ? Shall we \nconclude that God is not a hearer of prayer, because \na prayer of ours is not answered in kind, when he \nwhom the Father always hears, prayed \" let this cup \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 1G7 \n\npass from me,\" and it was not done 1 Ah, you say, \nwhat a dark and mysterious Providence this is ! But \nthat was darker and more mysterious, which left the \nSon of God to be betrayed and crucified by his ene- \nmies. And what if his sufferings were to accom- \nplish an immensely important object ; how few, it \nmay be supposed, of the intelligent mind that looked \non, were aware of that? Besides, may not your suf- \nferings be intended to accomplish an important ob- \nject % Are they not certainly so meant ? Do we not \nread of chastening, that \" it yieldeth the peaceable \nfruit of righteousness, unto them who are exercised \nthereby ;\" and of affliction, that it \" worketh for us a \nfar more exceeding and eternal weight of glory ?\" \nDoubtless our sufferings are in their place as indis- \npensable as were those of Christ. \n\nAgain, how reasonable and fit it is that the follow- \ners of a suffering Savior should themselves suffer — \nthat they should drink of the cup of which he drank, \nand be baptized with the baptism wherewith he was \nbaptized ! How could we be like him without suffer- \ning ! The Master was made \" perfect through suffer- \nings.\" How suitable that the disciples should not be \nmade perfect, until after they \"have suffered awhile!\" \nHe went through suffering to his dominion and glo- \nry. Why should we expect to reign with him, ex- \ncept we also suffer with him ? Have we not always \nknown that the cross is the condition of the crown ? \n\" If we suffer, we shall also reign with him.\" Jesus \n\n\n\n168 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nwas never known to smile on earth. But we reckon \nit strange and quite unaccountable, if we may not \nsmile perpetually. He wept, while we regard each \ntear we shed as a mystery. What bereavement have \nany of God's adopted children ever suffered, the \nsense of which was so keen as that under which the \nonly-begotten Son cried out, \" My God, my God, \nwhy hast thou forsaken me?\" \n\nWe wonder that God does not hear every prayer \nwe offer to him for every sort of thing, for health, for \nsuccess in worldly matters, for exemption from b^ \nreavement, &c. never reflecting that if he did so, he \nwould cease to be the governor of the world, except \nin name. He would be but our agent. He would \nreign in subordination to us. We should rule all \nthings by the sway of our prayers. And where would \nbe the difference between being on the throne our- \nselves, and directing him who occupies it ? Who \nwould care to hold the reins of government, if he \nmight by the expression of his desire control the \nbeing in whose hands they are 1 What a world this \nwould soon become, if every prayer, every expres- \nsion of desire offered to God even by his own children, \nwere answered according to the term of it ! The \nvoices of them in heaven who say, \" Alleluia : for \nthe Lord God Omnipotent reigneth,\" would be hush- \ned at once. O, shall God be infinitely wise and intel- \nligent, and not employ his boundless wisdom and \nknowledge in managing the affairs of his creatures ? \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 169 \n\nShall his omniscience of all things in all periods ex- \nert no influence on his determinations ? Shall he, to \ngratify us, hear a prayer which we would never of- \nfer if we saw what he sees, or what we ourselves \nmay discover in the progress of a few short years ? \nWhat strange beings we are to expect or desire such \na thing 1 \n\nAre Ave the only persons whose happiness is to be \nregarded by God in his dispensations 1 What if an \nevent affect us with sorrow ? The same event may \naffect others with joy, and God may be receiving \ntheir praises, while he hears our complaints. Are \nwe alone to be considered, and not they 1 We grieve, \nperhaps, because one very dear to us has been taken \nfrom earth to heaven* We prayed importunately \nthat it might be otherwise, but we were not heard. \nWe know not what to make of it, and are on the point \nof murmuring. But was not thy friend's happiness to \nbe taken into the account, as well as thine 1 Is the \nevent so very mournful a one in the aspect of it which \nhe contemplates ? Does he grieve that he has made \nthe exchange 1 If thy loss were equivalent to his \ngain, it w r ould be unkind to complain of the dispen- \nsation. But what is the loss to thee in comparison \nwith the gain to him ? Is not thy friend satisfied \nwith what God has done ? And shall you indulge \ndiscontent 1 If you cannot but grieve, yet you should \nbe willing to shed many tears for the sake of having \nall his w r iped away. Can a soul too soon cease from \n15 \n\n\n\n170 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nsin and sorrow ? Can heaven be entered premature- \nly ? Do you not read, and believe that it is better, \nfar better, to depart and be with Christ ? \n\nHow very inconsistent we are ! If God, wearied \nwith our discontent and complainings, should say, \n\" Well, since you desire it, be it according to your \nmind,\" is there one Christian who would not instant- \nly respond, \" Nay, rather be it according to thine ?\" \nWho would exercise the fearful privilege of order- \ning a single event which is to affect him ? And shall \nwe contend for a privilege which we would not ex- \nercise if we had it ? Shall we claim to choose in a \ncase in which, if the right of choice were given us, \nwe should immediately give it back into the hands \nof God? \n\n\n\n34. Should it be according to thy Mind? \n\nThis question Elihu asked of Job. Things were \nnot according to the mind of Job ; and he complained, \nand was unhappy that they were not. He wanted \nthem to be according to his mind. Perhaps it is so \nwith you. But should it be according to thy mind, \nwhen there is another mind in the universe which \nis exercised and employed about the affairs of mor- \ntals : and that mind infinite, while yours is finite — \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 171 \n\ninfallible, while yours is liable to a thousand errors \nand mistakes, in which you have often been detect- \ned even by yourself — possessed of all knowledge too, \nwhile you \"are of yesterday, and know nothing?\" \nShould it not be rather according to his mind ? \nShould the inferior mind dispose and direct things ? \n\nIf there were but one such mind the demand would \nnot be quite so unreasonable. But should it be ac- \ncording to thy mind, when upon the same principle it \nshould be according to the mind of others, your feL \nlow-creatures, as wise and good as you, as much en- \ntitled and as well qualified to govern as you, whose \nminds nevertheless are in opposition to yours, so that \nit could not be according to theirs and yours also ? \nMany of your views and wishes are at war with \ntheirs. The gratification of your desires would often \nbe incompatible with the gratification of theirs. Now \nshould one creature rule all other creatures, and the \ncreator too ? Is it not better to let the supreme mind \ndirect for all ? when, moreover, this creature, who \nwould rule all others, does not and cannot rule his \nown spirit ? Methinks he who aspires to command \nand control others, should begin with commanding \nand controling himself. \n\nBut what still more unfits him to order things, is \nthat his mind not only is at variance with other \nminds, but does not agree with itself. Sometimes it \ninclines to one thing, and again it inclines to tho op- \nposite. Nothing, not even the inconstant wind, is \n\n\n\n172 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nso changeable as this mind, which would have \nthings to be according to it. Should such a change- \nable mind rule, rather than he who is \" in one mind,\" \nand whom none can turn — \" the Father of lights, \nwith whom is no variableness, neither shadow ot \nturning ?\" \n\nBut not only does this mind disagree with itself \nat different times, but often at the very same moment \nit is at war with itself; forming plans and cherishing \ninclinations which are opposite to each other; so \nthat it could not accomplish one of its purposes with- \nout defeating another ; and could not gratify itselt \nin one respect without denying itself in another. \nShould it be according to a mind, according to \nwhich it could not be % We often have a mind to an \nend, when we have no mind to the means necessa- \nry to secure that end. Who has not a mind to be \nsaved ? But many have no mind to the way of being \nsaved. Self-gratification is the thing men plead for, \nwhich implies that they have no mind to self-denial ; \nand yet, if they would be saved, they must deny them- \nselves. In order to have things according to their \nmind hereafter, they must consent that they should \nnot be according to their mind now. Things cannot \nbe according to their mind in time and in eternity \nboth. How merciful it is in God not to let things be \nto our mind in this present brief life ! \n\nShould it be according to thy mind, when thou \ndost not always know thy own mind ? In such a \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 173 \n\ncase would you not have another to choose for you ? \nShould one who has to hesitate and debate matters \nwith himself, before he decides, have the direction of \naffairs in his hands? How long it sometimes takes \nyou to make up your mind ! What shall be done in \nthe mean time ? Must the course of nature and Pro- \nvidence be arrested, and the whole current of events \nstand still, till you have concluded what is best to \nbe done ? \n\nHave you not sometimes had things according to \nyour mind, and afterwards regretted that they were \nso ? And would you run the risk of similar re- \ngrets hereafter ? Have you not sometimes also had \nthings contrary to your mind, and subsequently re- \njoiced that they were so ? Have you never found \ncrosses to be blessings in disguise ? May not the \npresent cross cover a blessing ? And will you com- \nplain of a blessing, in whatever garb it may come 1 \n\nLet God be heard before he is condemned. We \nconcede this privilege to men. We consent to hear \ntheir reasons, before we censure their acts. God has \nappointed a day for the explanation of all things ; \nand he may reveal the reasons of his conduct to- \nwards us even before the day of the revelation of his \nrighteous judgment. It is uncertain whether we \nshall justify men, after we have heard their reasons ; \nbut do you not believe that if you knew the reasons \nof all God's proceedings in Providence, you would \napprove and sanction them all, and that your mind \n15* \n\n\n\n174 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nwould be in accordance with his ? Why then not \nacquiesce in it now ? Other beings, better and great- \ner than you, do so. They decline having things ac- \ncording to their mind. And should not you? Eli \nsaid, \" It is the Lord ; let him do what seemeth him \ngood.\" And even Christ would not have it accord- \ning to his mind. \" Not as I will, but as thou wilt,\" \nwas his conclusion, when the bitterest of all cups \nwas at his lips. \n\nAre you one of those who love God ? Surely then \nit ought to satisfy you, when God assures you that \nunder his government \" all things work together for \ngood to them that love him.\" Will you not let him \nchoose what the things shall be, when he pledges \nhimself that the result of them all shall be your \ngood ? Is it certain, if the things to befall you were \nchosen by you, that they would all conduce to your \ngood ? He says that he will withhold no good thing \nfrom them that walk uprightly. Is not this guaran- \ntee enough? \"How shall he not,\" says one of his \ninspired apostles, with Christ \" also freely give us \nall things ?\" \" All things are yours.\" And will you \ncomplain that death is in the catalogue ? or that \ntribulation and distress are among the things, in all \nwhich \" we are more than conquerors through him \nthat loved us ?\" \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 175 \n\n\n\n35 . How Inconsistent We are ! \n\nHow many examples of inconsistency one may \ngive, without going- beyond the pale of the church, \ninto the wide domain of the world ! We Christians \nconsecrate ourselves to God for his use, and glory. \nWho is a Christian that has not done this ? and what \nChristian has not done it often, and perhaps recorded \nthe solemn act of self-consecration? Well, having \ndone it repeatedly, and not by constraint, but will- \ningly; and having thus not only acknowledged God's \nright to use us, and to glorify himself in and by us, \nbut asked him to do it, we afterwards complain that \nhe does it. We object to the use to which he puts \nus, though we never stipulated any particular use to \nwhich he should put us, but left him free to use us \nas should seem good to him. Yet now, when we see \nwhat he is going to do with us, though, in consent- \ning that he should do with us according to his plea- \nsure, we consented to that very thing, we demur, and \nwould dictate what use he should make of us, and \nhow glorify himself by us ! Do I not justly denomi- \nnate this inconsistency? May not God do what he \nwill with his own, when it is his own on so many \naccounts, and by so perfect a right — his own, not \nonly by creation, by preservation, and by purchase, \nbut by our consent and covenant with him, and oft \nexpressed desire that it should be his; and when \n\n\n\n176 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nmoreover he engages that in using us according to \nhis will and for his glory, he will not fail to secure \nour highest interests, our hest good, our eternal \nwell-being ? We do what we will with our own, \nthough it be our own in a very subordinate sense, \nand though we use it exclusively for our pleasure or \nprofit ; and we concede the same right to our fellow- \ncreatures. What if we were to say to a fellow-man, \n11 this is yours ; you made it ; you daily renew your \nlabor on it, to keep it in repair ; you also paid a price \nfor it. I surrender it up to you. I desire it should \nbe yours. You are much better qualified to use it \nproperly than I am,\" and then afterwards object to \nhis using it as his own % How unreasonable it would \nbe in us ! How we should contradict ourselves. \nAnd is it not as unreasonable to hold similar lan- \nguage to God, and then complain of him ? \n\nWe also consecrate to God oui families — wife \nand children, and all. We say \" These also are thine, \nLord. Use them likewise for thy glory. We con- \nsecrate them to thee.\" Well, being consecrated, he \nuses them as sacred to him ; and presently, having \nno farther use for one of them on earth, and wanting \nhim in heaven to fill a place there, he takes the per- \nson thither — changes his residence and society — \npromotes him — brings him nearer to court. Having \nsometime before justified and begun to sanctify the \nindividual, he at once perfects the work of holiness \nin him, and beatifies, glorifies him — frees him from \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 177 \n\nall sin, sorrow, pain and dread ; and wipes away his \nlast tear. The subject of all this is in an ecstacy of \njoy and gratitude for what has been done to him, \nand would not for worlds leave the choice spot which \nhe now occupies. Well, and what then 1 Why, we \nobject, and complain, and think it hard, and almost \nweep dry the fountain of tears, and refuse to be com- \nforted ! and that though it was God who took that \nmember of the family ; and though he took but his \nown, and took it to himself; and though we are so \nsoon ourselves to follow to the same abode ; and \nthough it was always understood and agreed upon \nthat God should take each just when he pleased. It \nwas one of the articles of the covenant we entered \nuAo with him. He claimed and we conceded the \nright. We received that creature with the express \nunderstanding that we were to give him up, when \ncalled for. We always knew it was not a gift out- \nright, but a loan. And now shall we complain of \nthe recall of the loan ? \n\nOh how easy it is to convince the judgment — to \nsilence the mind ! But the heart — the unmanageable \nheart, feels on as before. Our arguments go not \ndown to that deep seat of emotion. There is still \nthe void, the tumult, the ache, the longing. Only \nGod can reason with the heart. At no bidding but \nhis, will it ever be still and satisfied. \n\nAgain, we consecrate our property to God, We \nsay, \" We being thine, all ours is also thine. Thine \n\n\n\n178 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nbe it. Take and use it.\" But let God touch it, to \ntake any part of it away, and how distressed, and \nwell nigh desperate it makes some who profess to be \nChristians ! and how unlike a thing sacred, and by \nour act made sacred to God, we use it. \" Holiness \nto the Lord \" we inscribe on all our property, and \nthen utterly disregarding the label, we use it exclu- \nsively for ourselves. \n\nSo also we devote life to God. But he must not \non any account take it. How we tremble when we \napprehend that be is going to receive what we offer \nto him ! O death, can it be that thou hast lost thy \nsting ? Blessed Jesus, how reluctant thy disciples \nare to have thee come and take them to thyself! \nForgive us — we know not what we do. \n\nOnce more, what strange, inconsistent beings we \nare ! If it be one characteristic of the righteous man, \nthat he \" sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth \nnot,\" how much more essential to rectitude must it \nnot be to comply with the terms of the oath, which \nwe have sworn, not to man, but to God ; and when \nthe tendency of the oath is not our hurt, but our \ngreatest, and most lasting good ! As Christians, we \nhave sworn to God. We have taken the sacrament \n— and that often, and not without deliberation. Many \noaths are on us. And now shall we change ? Shall \nwe draw back ? Shall we refuse to perform, or, as \nthe case may be, to submit, because of some trifling \ninconvenience, some transient evil, which God can \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 179 \n\nand will make to conduce to our ultimate and eter- \nnal good? \n\n\n\n36. The Pity of the Lord. \n\nThere is a great deal of the Bible which seems \nnot to be believed even by those who profess and \nsuppose that they believe it all. And this is true, if I \nmistake not, of what some would call the best parts \nof the Bible — 4hose parts, for example, which speak \nof the kind feelings of God towards his creatures, \nand especially towards those of them who fear him. \nI suspect that even Christians read them with a sort \nof incredulity. They seem to them almost too good \nto be true. But why should not God feel towards \nus as he says he does ? Is he not our Father 1 Has \nhe not nourished and brought us up as children 1 \nWhy should it be thought a thing incredible with \nus, that God should feel as a father does towards his \nchildren? I never read that 103d Psalm, but I stop \nat the 13th verse : \" Like as a father pitieth his chil- \ndren, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him ;\" and \nI read it a second time, and I find myself asking, \nnot merely in admiration, but with some degree of \nunbelief: \" Can it be that the Lord pities us, and pi- \n\n\n\n180 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nties us like as a father his children ? I know the \nLord is good to all. How can he, who is love, be \nother than benevolent 1 It were contrary to his na- \nture not to be. But pity expresses more than good- \nness — more than benevolence. There is an un- \nmovedness in mere goodness. But in pity the heart \nmelts, and the eye weeps, and the whole soul is \nmoved as from its seat. And this is especially true \nof a parent's pity. Can it be possible that God pities \nafter that manner?\" O yes, it is possible; and it \nhas passed out of the limits of possibilities into the \ncircle of facts. The Lord pitieth them that fear \nhim — pitieth, as a father, you, if you fear him. His \nfeelings towards you are fully up to those which \nyou can conceive, or from experience know to be \nthose of the most tender parent towards his children. \nYes, God pities you. That nature which is love, \nfeels and exercises compassion towards you in your \nsorrows and trials. That great heart is affected by \nyour misery and griefs, as our hearts are, when at \nthe sight of suffering we weep. Yes, Christian, \nGod is sorry for you. Oh what a thought this for \nan hour of trial ! What a sentiment this to bear suf- \nfering with ! What if thou dost suffer ? Is it not \nenough that God pities thee % We should be willing \nto suffer, if he will sympathise. We should never \nknow what divine sympathy is, if we did not sulfer. \nThis one consideration — that God pities, is worth \nmore than all philosophy. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 181 \n\nThere is much that is interesting and lovely in \npi y, whoever be the object of it. There is, however, \na peculiar tenderness, which belongs to the pity felt \nfor suffering children. Nothing goes so keenly to \nthe heart as the child's tear and tale of sorrow. And \nis the pity of the Lord like this ? Yes. It is not said \nthat he pities, as man pities man ; or as one pities \nchildren ; or even as a parent pities children ; but as \na father pities his children, so the Lord pities. \" Like \nas a father.\" Like as one who most affectionately \nloves, pities the dear object of his love, his child, his \nown child, when that child is sick, and he looks upon \nhis altered countenance, and with a weeping eye \nwatches over him day and night, and hears his \nmoans, and is imploringly appealed to by him for \nrelief, which it is not in his power to give ; like as \nhe pities, so the Lord pities. So inexpressibly feels \nhe towards them that fear him. Such deep and un- \ndefinable emotions as a parent's heart is occupied \nwith, when he says \" my poor child.\" So the Lord \npities. Can it be 1 It is even so. Well then, come \nwant, come sickness, come sorrow, if such pity may \ncome with it. The relief exceeds the suffering. The \nsupport is greater than the burden. It not only bears \nup, but lifts up the soul. \n\nBut how does a father pity ? Does he pity so as \n\nnever to chastise % Oh no. \" What son is he whom \n\nhis father chasteneth not ?\" He chastens out of pity. \n\nBut he so pities that he is infinitely far from tak- \n\n16 \n\n\n\n182 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ning delight m the smallest sufferings of his children, \neven when it becomes his duty for their good to in- \nflict them. It hurts him more to chastise, than them \nto be chastised. In all their affliction he is afflicted ; \nand more afflicted than they. Have you never correct- \ned a child, and gone away and wept in pure pity for \nhim ? Have you never denied him something, and \nfound it a greater self-denial ? Is such your heart \ntowards your children ? Such is God's towards his. \n\" He doth not afflict willingly.\" \n\nAgain, a father so pities that he would spare or \nrelieve his child, if he could ; that is, if he had the \npower; or having the power, it were proper he \nshould exercise it. A parent sometimes has the power \nto relieve and does not exert it. The principle of \nbenevolence within him which proposes the greatest \ngood of his child for the longest period, forbids that \nhe should yield to the impulse of compassion, which \ncalls for the rendering of immediate relief. He pities \nhis child too much to relieve him. So the Lord pi- \nties. He has always the power to relieve. And of- \nten he exerts it. He always would, if it were, in \nview of all considerations, proper and benevolent \nthat he should. He, who for thee spared not his own \nSon, would spare thee every sorrow thou hast, and \nwould relieve thine every pain, but \" whom the Lord \nloveth, he chasteneth.\" \n\nA father so pities his children that he would, it \nhe could, even suffer in their stead. More than one \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 183 \n\nfather has said, \" Would God I had died for thee, \nmy son, my son !\" And is the pity of the Lord like \na father's in this particular too 1 Yes. So the Lord \npities. So he has pitied. He could suffer in the \nstead of those he pitied — and he did. \" Surely he \nhath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.\" He \nhas even died for us. O what pity ! \n\nA father so pities his children, that to promote \ntheir comfort and happiness, he will spare no pains \nand no expense. How freely the most avaricious \nparent will spend, if the necessities of a child require \nit ! The wants and sorrows of his child can open \neven his heart. Such is the pity of the Lord. He \nspared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us \nall. Having one Son, his only-begotten, he gave \neven him for us. \n\nLet the child of God derive from these considera- \ntions inexpressible consolation. O think that he, \nin all thy sorrows, pities thee. Yes, thy God feels \nfor thee. Thy sufferings go to his heart. There is \none in heaven who, from that exaltation, looks down \nupon thee ; and the eye that watches over you, wept \nfor you once, and would, if it had tears, weep for you \nagain. He knoweth your frame. He remembereth \nthat you are dust. He will not break the bruised \nreed, nor quench the smoking flax. It was he who, \nwhen his disciples had nothing to say for them- \nselves, made that kind apology for them, \" The spirit \nis willing, but the flesh is weak.\" He can be touched \n\n\n\n184 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nwith the feeling of all your infirmities. You may \ncast all your cares on him, for he careth for you. \nAll through this vale of tears you may rest assured \nof his sympathy ; and when the vale of tears de- \nclines into the valley of the shadow of death, not his \nsympathy only will you have, hut his inspiriting \npresence, and his timely succor. And after that, \nwhat will not his bounty be, whose pity has been \nso great ? When there is no longer any occasion \nfor pity — when misery is no more, and sighing has \nceased, and God's hand has for the last time passed \nacross your weeping eyes, and wiped away the final \ntear, what then will be the riches of his munifi- \ncence ? What then will he not do for you, having so \nfelt for you 1 You know a father feels a peculiar \naffection for a child that has been afflicted, and that \nhas cost him a great deal. How will our compas- \nsionate Redeemer cherish and caress those who \nhave come out of great tribulation, and for whom he \nwent through so much more himself I What must \nbe the glory of that place to which he will take them, \nafter he shall have made them perfect through suf- \nferings ! What exalted honors, what ecstatic joys \nmust he not have in reserve for them, whom he \ncame down here to weep with, and now takes up \nthither to rejoice with himself! And now that they \nhave ceased to sin, and are perfectly conformed to \nhis image, what will not be his complacency in them» \nwhen his pity towards them is so great in this im \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 185 \n\nperfect state, in which their suffering is always \nmingled with sin ! \n\nWell then, since we are the objects of such pity, \nlet us be its subjects too. Let us pity, as we are pi- \ntied. Cared for ourselves, let us care for others. Let \n(heir case reach our hearts, as ours reached God's. \nLet us, for whom so many tears have been shed, be \nnot sparing of our tears for others' woes. Nor let \nus give to misery merely the tear, but speak the \nword of consolation, and reach out the hand of help. \n\n\n\n37. Five Negatives. \n\n\n\nIt is known that two negatives in English are \nequivalent to an affirmative. They destroy each \nother. But it «s not so in Greek. They strengthen \nthe negation ; ind a third negative makes it stronger \nstill, and so a iourth, and a fifth. How strong five \nnegatives must make a negation ! But do five ever \noccur 1 Whether they ever occur in the Greek \nclassics, I do not know ; but in the Greek of the \nNew Testament there is an instance of the kind. \nAnd what is that? Are the five negatives used to \nstrengthen any threatening? No. They are con- \nnected with a promise, one of the \" exceeding great \nand precious promises,\" which are given unto us. \n16* \n\n\n\n186 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nThe case occurs in Heb. 13: 5, \"for He hath said, \nI will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.\" There \nfive negatives are employea. We translate but two \nof them ; but there they all are, as any one may see \nwho looks into his Greek Testament. Now, they \nneed not all have been there. They are not all \nnecessary to express the simple idea that God will \nnever forsake his people. There must have been \ndesign in 'multiplying negatives so. I do not believe \nthe phraseology was accidental, and I think it not \ndifficult to guess the design. God meant to be be- \nlieved in that thing. He would secure the confidence \nof his children in that particular. He knew how \nprone they were to doubt his constancy — how \nstrongly inclined to that form of unbelief — and how \nliable to be harassed by the dread of being forsaken \nby him ; and he would therefore make assurance \nmore than doubly sure. So, instead of saying simply, \n\" I will not leave thee,\" which alone would have \nbeen enough, he adds, \" nor forsake thee ;\" and in- \nstead of leaving it thus, \" I will not leave thee, I will \nnot forsake thee,\" he uses language equivalent to the \nfollowing: \" I will not, I will not leave thee; I will \nnever, never, never forsake thee.\" There is a stanza, \nwhich very faithfully, as well as beautifully, expresses \nit — \n\n\" The soul that on Jesus hath lean'd for repose, \n\n\" I will not, I will not desert to his foes ; \n\n\"That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, \n\nM I'll never — no never— no never forsake.\" \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 187 \n\nHow in earnest God appears to be in this matter ! \nHow unworthy it is in his children, after such an as- \nsurance as this, to suspect that he will forsake them ! \nHe cannot. It is impossible for God to lie. Here \none who was never known to break his word, assures \nhis people, each of them individually, and five times \nover in a single sentence, of his continued presence \nwith them. Under similar circumstances, what man \nof reputed veracity would be discredited? and shall \nnot the God of truth be believed in a like case ? \n\n\n\n38. How to Dispose of Care. \n\nThere is such a thing as care. Who does not \nknow it by experience ? Who has not felt it at his \nheart I How heavily it presses there ! and it pierces \ntoo. It is a burden ; and it has also a sting. Nothing \nis more unfriendly to happiness than care. It is hard \nbeing happy with a load on the heart. The objects \nof care are almost innumerable. What shall I eat; \nwhat shall I drink; and wherewithall shall I be \nclothed, are only a few of its anxious interrogations, \nand they are among the least important of them. \nThese concern ourselves ; but care often forgets self \nin its solicitude for others. Parents, and especially \nmothers know what I mean bv this. But I need \n\n\n\n188 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nnot attempt to explain a word that expresses what we \nall feel. \n\nThere is a care both for ourselves and others \nwhich God himself has cast upon us ; and of which \nit were sinful to attempt to make any other disposi- \ntion than he has made of it. But over and above \nthis, there is a large amount of solicitude and anxiety \nwhich we lay upon ourselves, and which is unne- \ncessary, useless, injurious. This is the care that is \nunfavorable to happiness. The other is friendly to \nit. It is very desirable to get rid of it, since it does \nus harm, and does no one good. Nothing is more \nhostile to the successful care of the soul than the \npressure and poignancy of the care of which I speak. \n\" Careful and troubled about many things,\" we in- \ntermit or entirely overlook the care of the \"one thing \nneedful.\" But what shall we do with it — how get \nrid of it, since to bear it is so painful to our feelings, \nand often so ruinous to our better interests ? Divide \nit with others we may to some Mttle extent. There \nis such a thing as sympathy. There is such an \noperation as unburdening the mind to a fellow- \ncreature. And I will not deny that there is some \nrelief in it. Yet the very etymology of the w r ord \nsympathy evinces that it is no remedy. It is. after \nall, a suffering together. A great deal of what con- \nstitutes sympathy is grief that we can but grieve — \nsorrow that we cannot succor. Mixing tears does \nindeed diminish their bitterness, but weeping with \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 189 \n\nthose that weep does not wipe away their tears. \nThey weep on, and the only difference is that we \nweep with them, and our tears may be said to dilute \ntheirs. \n\nThere is a better way of disposing of care than to \ncast it on our fellow-creatures. Indeed, what fellow- \ncreatures can we find who have not enough of their \nown to bear, without receiving an additional burden \nfrom us ? What friend has not himself surplus care \nto dispose of? \n\nThere are some who cast off care without refer- \nence to what becomes of it. They sing, \" Begone \ndull care.\" These are the reckless. Care may go \nat their bidding, but the worst of it is, it is sure to \nreturn again, and it comes back a heavier burden — \nduller than ever. This is not the way to dispose of \ncare. Yet there is a way whereby all excess of \nanxiety may be effectually removed, and the heart \nbe left with all its tender affection, and yet with no \nmore solicitude than such as the blessed in heaven \nmight feel without diminution of happiness. It is to \ncast care on God. That is the true and only effectual \nway to dispose of care. He can take the burden, \nhowever huge and heavy. You do not doubt that ; \nbut yru ask, \" Will he I — may I cast it on him ? I, \nsuch a one as I, cast my cares, the whole multitude \nand burden of them, on such a being as God? I know \nthe government of the mighty universe, and the pro- \nvidence which extends to the minute equally as to \n\n\n\n190 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthe magnificent — reaching low as to the fall of the \nsparrow, and the numbering of the hairs of the head, \ndoes not distract or burden him. I know he can take \na larger charge and not feel it. But will he ? Will \nsuch greatness stoop to such littleness ? — such holi- \nness come down to such vileness?\" Yes, it will, for \ncondescension is one characteristic of greatness ; and \n\" the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from \nall sin.\" But why do I reason ? Does not the Holy- \nGhost say by David, \"cast thy burden upon the Lord, \nand he shall sustain thee\" — and by Peter, \"casting \nall your care upon him\" — and by Paul, \" be careful \nfor nothing\" — and does not Immanuel himself say, \n\" Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy \nladen, and I will give you rest?\" No longer ask if \nyou may, but use your privilege. Here is your au- \nthority. The Lord says you may do it. Nay more, \ncommands you to do it. It is your duty, as well as \nyour privilege. So far is it from being presumption \nto cast your care on God, it is a sin not to do it. \n\nThis is the way to dispose of care; and it is no \nmatter how much there is of it. God will take it all. \nIt is no burden to him. Many have made this dis- \nposition of their cares, and all testify how willingly \nhe took and bore them : and if at times they took \nback the burden, yet willingly he received it again, \nwhen again it was cast upon him. \n\nThere is a reason given by Peter for casting care \non God, that is inexpressibly touching. He says, \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 191 \n\n\"casting all your care on him,\" and then iouows \nno flourish of rhetoric, no parade of reasons, but this \n— O how happily selected, I would say, but that he \nwrote by inspiration, which does every thing felici- \ntously — \"for he careth for you.\" Why should you \ncare for yourself, since God cares for you ? Ah, here \nis a topic not for the meditation of an hour merely, \nbut of an eternity. He careth for you. Can it be ? \n\nwhy should he % What a thought to carry through \nthis vale of tears, and to go down with into the deep- \ner valley of death, that God cares for me ! He con- \ncerns himself about me. Let the scholar look at \nthe original. The English is good enough, but the \nGreek is still more interesting. God has me on his \nheart. Some poor saints think nobody cares for \nthem. But God does. Is not that enough ? He \nthat regards the cry of the raven, and gives all the \nfowls of heaven their food, and decks the lilies of the \nfield, doth much more, care for you. He concerns \nhimself for his creatures, will he not much more for \nhis children ? Are ye not of much more value, whom \nno less a price could redeem than the blood of his \nSon ? Let this suffice for you. \n\nI know not any thing that goes so soon and surely \nto my heart, as the sight of a poor sobbing, or sor- \nrowfully looking child, an orphan, or worse than \nparentless, whom no one seems to care for. But if \n\n1 weep at such a sight, it dries up my tears to think \nthat there is, after all, one who cares for the poor \n\n\n\n192 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nchild, even he who said, \" Suffer little children to \ncome unto me.\" O come, let us cast our care on \nGod. Let us go to Jesus for rest. In him we shall \nfind sympathy such as man can feel, with support \nsuch as only God can afford. There we shall meet \nwith such pity as at first weeps with the sufferer, \nand then wipes away his tears. Surely he who bare \nour sins will not refuse our cares. \" Surely he \nhath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.\" \n\n\n\n39. Do you enjoy Religion! \n\nI do not ask you if you possess religion, but do \nyou enjoy it ? Does it make you happy ? The ques- \ntion is not whether being, as you hope, a religious \nperson, you are also happy; but is it your religion \nwhich makes you happy ? Are you happy, because \nreligious 1 A person may acknowledge God, and \nhave joy, and yet not \"joy in God.\" Perhaps you \nwill say it helps to make you happy — that is, reli- \ngion and certain other things together make you \nhappy. But this answer is not satisfactory. Reli- \ngion must more than help to make you happy. If \nit only helps, it does no more than many other \nthings. They help. In that case religion might be \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 193 \n\nneedful to happiness, even as money is reckoned by \nmany to be ; but it could not be pronounced to be the \none thing needful. Religion ought to make you \nhappy without the aid of any thing else. You should \nenjoy it, though you had nothing else to enjoy. \nHabakkuk says, \" Although the fig-tree shall not \nblossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the la- \nbor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield \nno meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and \nthere shall be no herd in the stalls ; yet I will re- \njoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my sal- \nvation.\" He regarded religion as able alone to make \nhim happy. And are we not commanded to be \nhappy in religion alone — to \" rejoice in the Lord,\" \nand that \" evermore ?\" Should we be commanded \nto be happy in it, if it needed some assistance to \nmake us happy ? \n\nReligion is both exactly adapted and entirely \nadequate to make its subjects happy. It supplies \nthe soul with a portion ; and what does the soul \nwant to make it happy but a suitable and sufficient \nportion ? This the religious man has. The Lord \nis his portion. Is not that a portion to make him \nhappy? Is it not good enough, and large enough ? \nIf the world can make one happy, as some suppose, \ncannot much more the Maker of all worlds, and the \nowner of the universe ? This portion is infinite, so \nthat it can never be exhausted ; and it is eternal, so \nthat it can never fail. And while religion gives \n17 \n\n\n\n194 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nus a portion, what a protector, what a provider, what \na comforter it affords us ! The best of fathers, and \nthe friend that is more constant than a brother ! Then, \nwhat present good it yields, and what promises it \nmakes of greater good to come ! What a prospect it \nholds out ! O what hopes it inspires ! The Chris- \ntian has all these to rejoice in — Christ Jesus, the \n\" exceeding great and precious promises,\" the first \nfruits of the Spirit, and the hope of glory. Can any \none say what is wanting in religion to make one \nhappy ? \n\nReligion has made many happy. Peter, in his \nfirst general epistle, within the compass of only three \nverses, speaks of Christians as not only rejoicing, \nbut rejoicing \"greatly,\" yea, \" with joy unspeakable \nand full of glory.\" He speaks of it not as a duty, \nor as a privilege, but as a fact. They did so. And \nwhat they so rejoiced in was Jesus Christ, and the \nprospect of the incorruptible inheritance, both which \nChristians have the same warrant to rejoice in now. \nNow, if religion made these happy, why should it \nnot make others happy ? Why should one enjoy it, \nand another not enjoy it, if both possess it? It was \nintended to make all its subjects happy — very happy. \n\nI ask then, does it make you happy ? Do you en- \njoy religion ?• Now, do not evade the question. What \nis to become of us, if religion does not make us \nhappy ? If we do not enjoy it here, how shall we \nenjoy it hereafter ? Barely to possess it hereafter \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 195 \n\nwould not satisfy, even if such a thing could be. \nHow can a religion which does not make us happy \non earth, make us happy in heaven ? The religion \nof heaven is the same in kind with that of earth. \nThe only difference is in degree. The religion of \nearth is communicated from heaven. It must be of \nthe same nature with it. \n\nBesides, if our religion does not make us happy, \nhow do we do our duty ? We are commanded to re- \njoice. It is a part of practical Christianity to be \nhappy. It is obedience to a precept. It belongs to the \ncharacter of the doer of the word. Moreover, how \nare we to have satisfactory evidence that we possess \ntrue religion, if we have not joy in it ? Suppose we \nhad not love, would we be Christians then ? No, cer- \ntainly ; for without charity a man is nothing. But \nwhy can we not be Christians without love ? Be- \ncause it is the fruit of the Spirit. And is not joy also \nthe fruit of the Spirit ? If love is the first named of \nthe nine, joy is the second. \" The fruit of the Spirit \nis love, joy, &c.\" Gal. 5 : 22, 23. And these are not \nsaid to be the fruits of the Spirit. It is not the plu- \nral form that is used. They are not distinct produc- \ntions. They are all one cluster — \" the fruit of the \nSpirit.\" Now, since we have not love, we conclude \nwe have not the Spirit ; why should we not conclude \nthe same if we have not joy 1 I know it may be \nsaid that there are many things to interfere with \nChristian joy. But while these may and do dimi- \n\n\n\n196 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nnish it and interrupt it, they do not therefore anni- \nhilate it. There was much to interfere in the case \nof those to whom Peter wrote. They were \" in hea- \nviness through manifold temptations.\" Nevertheless \nthey rejoiced \" greatly.\" \n\nYou see now why I ask you if you enjoy reli- \ngion. You perceive that it is no insignificant ques- \ntion. Many profess to have religion, but are con- \nscious that they do not enjoy it. They hope they are \nreligious, but know they are not happy. They \ntrust that God is their portion, but they have no joy \nin him. Indeed some are astonished that we should \nspeak of religion as a thing to be enjoyed. They \nregard it rather as a thing to be endured — as a sort \nof penance, a system of privation. And in so far as \nit is not suffering, it is toil — a something composed \nof penance and task. When they betake themselves \nto any thing of a religious nature, they feel that they \nmust. A sort of dire necessity constrains them. \nSuch a religion may prepare a person for hell, but \nhow it is to qualify him for heaven, I see not. And \na religion which does not qualify a person for hea- \nven, certainly does not answer the purpose. \n\nMany persons lament that their religion does not \nmake them happy, and they wonder why it is. I sus- \npect it is because they depend no more upon it to \nmake them happy. They look for enjoyment too \nmuch to other sources. Perhaps, however, the rea- \nson they have so little enjoyment in religion is that \n\n\n\nPractical thoughts. 197 \n\nthey have so little religion to enjoy. Now those who \nappear to have so little, should seriously inquire if \nthey have any. \n\nBut some may say, \" Religion sometimes make us \nhappy.\" But why only sometimes — why not al- \nways? The command is, \"Rejoice in the Lord al- \nways ,-\" and the same reason exists for being happy \nin religion at all times, as at any time. If you re- \njoice in the world, no wonder if your joy is often \ninterrupted ; hut if God is your God, and he is \nevermore the same, why should you not rejoice \nin him evermore? But does not the Lord sometimes \ncall to sorrow ? True, but even then he does not \ncall from joy. Joy and sorrow are perfectly compa- \ntible. Were they not coincident in the experience \nof Paul ? \" As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing,\" he \nsays. If there exists causes of sorrow which operate, \nthat does not annihilate the causes of joy. They \nshould operate too. If you seem to have nothing \nelse to rejoice in, yet there are your sorrows ; re- \njoice in them ; well may you, if they work for you \n\" a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.\" \nDid not Paul \" glory in tribulations also.\" \n\nLet not the reader rest satisfied until he enjoys re- \nligion. How are we to die by a religion which we \ndo not enjoy ? What can one enjoy when the world \nis receding, if he cannot enjoy God ? \n\n\n\n198 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\n\n\n40. Lovest Thou Mel \n\n\n\nWe make a profession of Christianity, and go \nalong from day to day, and perhaps from year to \nyear, supposing that we are Christians, and that all \nis well with us ; that we are equipped for the en- \ncounter of death, and prepared to meet our Judge, \nand take our place in heaven, when it may be wc \nare not able to answer till after long consideration, \nand then with not a little doubt and misgiving, so \nsimple a question in Christian experience, as \" Lovest \nthou me ?\" Peradventure the utmost we dare say, \nafter all our reflection and self-research, is, *' I really \ndo not know how it is. I hope I love him.\" This \nwill never do. The question, \" Lovest thou me,\" is \none which every person, making any pretensions to \nChristianity, ought to be able to answer affirmatively \nat once. Indeed we ought not to give onr Savior any \noccasion to ask the question. It is very much to our \ndiscredit — it should make us blush and be ashamed \n— that our manifestations of love to him are of so \nequivocal a character as to leave the very existence \nof the affection doubtful, and to render it necessary \nfor him to interrogate us in reference to it. There \nare many less lovely beings than Christ that have \nnot to ask us if we love them. We act in such a \nmanner towards them that they cannot for a moment \ndoubt the fact of their being dear and precious to us. \nThey do not want our words to assure them. They \n\n\n\nPractical thoughts. 199 \n\nhave our uniform conduct and deportment making\" \nthe silent yet most forcible declaration. Has your \nparent to ask you if you love him, or your child ? \nHave husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and \nfriends, to ask this question of each other ? O no — \nnone but Christ has to ask us if we love him ! And \nhe has not only to ask the question, but to wait, \nsometimes a long while, for an answer. We have \nto consider and go into an examination, and call up \nour conduct to the bar of judgment, and dissect our \nvery hearts, before we can venture an answer. This \nis strange. It is not so in other cases. If a relative \nor a friend, more for the gratification of a renewed \nexpression of our love, than from any doubt of its ex- \nistence, ask us if we love him, do we keep him wait- \ning for an answer 7 Do we say, \" Well, I must con- \nsider. I must examine myself. I hope I do.\" No, \nindeed. We are ready with our affirmative. Nor is \nit a cold yes we return ; but we express our surprise \nat the question. \" Love you !\" And we assure the \nperson in the most emphatic and ardent language \nthat we love him, and all our manner shows him that \nAve speak out of the abundance of the heart. But we \ndo not express surprise that our Savior should ask \nus if we love him. We do not wonder at the question \nfrom him. We know too well how much reason we \ngive him to doubt our affection. \n\nWhy should there be such a difference in favor of \nthe earthly objects of our love? Is not Christ as lovely \n\n\n\n200 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nas those other beings — as deserving of affection — as \nattractive of love? He is altogether lovely. Are they? \nHe possesses infinite loveliness. Nor does that ex- \npress all. He is essential Love. Nor love at rest, \nbut in motion ; nor far off, but near ; exerting infinite \nenergy in action, exercising infinite fortitude in suf- \nfering ; earth the scene, and man the object. It is \nhe who asks, \" Lovest thou me?\" And he of \nwhom he asks it is this man, the intelligent spec- \ntator of all this love ; aye, its chosen and cherished \nobject. \n\nIf Christ was not nearly related to us, as those \nother beings are, that might be the reason of the dif- \nference in their favor. But who is so closely related \nto us, so intimately joined to us, as Christ? He formed \nus, and in him we live, move, and have our being. \nDoes not that imply nearness ? Is he divine, while \nwe are human ? He is human as well as divine- — \none of the brotherhood of flesh and blood. He came \ndown to earth to take our nature on him, nor went \nup to heaven again without it. There it is — our \nhumanity allied to divinity, divinity radiant through \nit, on the throne. Is he not related to us ? He says \nof every one who does the will of his Father, \" the \nsame is my brother, and sister and mother.\" That \nalone relates us to him more than all human ties. \nBut that is not all. Christ is the husband of the \nchurch. He is one with it. If we are his disciples, \nhe is the vine and we the branches — he the head \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 201 \n\nand we the members. Yea, \" we are members of \nhis body, of his flesh, and of his bones.\" Does not \nthis express a near and intimate relation ? Now it \nis one so near to us, so joined to us, who asks, \n\" Lovest thou me ?\" \n\nHave our friends, whom we are so conscious of \nloving, done more for us than Christ, or made greater \nsacrifices for us ? Are we under greater personal \nobligations to them ? \n\n\" Which of all our friends, to save us, \n\" Could or would have shed his blood? \n\n\" But this Savior died to have us \n\" Reconciled, in him, to God.\" \n\nAnd yet we know we love those friends, but this \nfriend ! we know not whether we love him or not — \nwe only hope we do ! \n\nDo other beings find such difficulty in loving \nChrist ? and are they at such a loss to know when \nthey do love him ? O no. His Father testifies, \" This \nis my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.\" \nAnd he is called also his well-beloved, his dear Son. \nAll the angels of God love and worship him, and \ndelight to ascribe infinite worthiness to him. It is \nonly men who find any difficulty in loving Christ. \nIt is only the human heart that hesitates and hangs \nback. Is there any reason for this — any reason why \nmen should be the last to love Christ, and why they \nshould love him least of all who behold his loveli- \n\n\n\n202 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nness ? I see none, but I think I see reasons many, \nand strong-, and tender, why we should be first, and \nmost forward, and warmest in our affection to him. \nHow many worlds he passed to alight on this ! How \nmany created natures he rejected, when from all of \nthem he chose the human to be united to divinity ! \nOthers have sinned, yet not their sins bare he, but \nours. It may be said of other creatures, \" He loved \nthem ;\" but of men only can it be added, \" and gave \nhimself for them.\" And yet who is so backward to \nlove him as redeemed man? Not tardy merely. \nO how parsimonious of his love — loving him so lit- \ntle, that often he cannot ascertain if he loves at \nall ! Shame, where is thy blush ; and sorrow, where \nthy tear ? \n\nO how different Christ's love to us from ours to \nhim ! We have not to ask him if he loves us. If any \none should ever ask that question of Jesus, he would \nsay, \" Behold my hands and my feet.\" He bears on \nhis very body the marks of his love to us. But what \nhave we to point to as proofs of our love to him ? \nWhat has it done for him ? What suffered ? O, the \ncontrast ! His love, so strong ! Ours, so weak ! His, \nso ardent ! Ours, so cold ! His, so constant ! Ours, \nso fickle! His, so active ! Ours, so indolent! So high, \nso deep, so long, so broad his love, its dimensions \ncannot be comprehended, it passeth knowledge ; \nwhile ours is so limited, and so minute, it eludes \nresearch ! \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 203 \n\n\" Dear Lord ! and thall we ever live \n\n\" At this poor dying rate \"? \n\" Our love so faint, so cold to thee, \n\n\" And thine to us so great V 1 \n\n\n\n41. Tlie Light of the World. \n\nHow are we to know whether, being nominally \nChristians, we are also really Christians ? It is im- \nportant to know if we possess the thing signified by \nChristianity. The mere name and fame of the thing \nwill be of little use to us. \n\nNow the Bible tells us what Christians are. If \nthen, we are what the book says Christians are, we \nare Christians. Every body admits this — that a \nscriptural Christian is without doubt a real one. \nBut some seem to hesitate about admitting the con- \nverse of the proposition, that if we are not what the \nBible says Christians are, we are not Christians. \nThe reason they hesitate can only be that they per- \nceive or fear the latter conclusion makes against \nthemselves ; for the one is as clearly and certainly \ntrue as the other. What use could there be in state- \nments declaring what Christians are, if individuals \nmay be Christians without being what Christians \nare thus declared to be? Indeed, what truth would \nthere be in such statements? That is no character- \n\n\n\n204 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nistic of a class, which does not belong to all the in- \ndividuals of the class. The declaration, \" If any \nman be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature,\" is \nneither useful nor true, if some are in Christ who \nare not new creatures. The same may be said of \nthe assertion, \" There is therefore now no condem- \nnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk \nnot after the flesh, but after the Spirit,\" if a solitary \nindividual is pardoned and freed from condemnation \nwho still walks after the flesh. There is neither sense \nnor sincerity in it; nor in this other passage, \" They \nthat are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the \naffections and lusts,\" if some are Christ's who have \nnever put the flesh and its lusts to that kind of death. \n\nIt must be admitted that if we are not what the \nBible says Christians are, we are not Christians in \nfact. We may as well admit it first as last. Christ \nsays we are to be judged by his word ; not by any \nfavorite author of ours, Blair or Paley, or whoever \nJie maybe ; not by any sermon we may have heard \nfrom this or that minister ; not by the standard that \nmay have been set up in some conversation with an \neminent divine ; not by the opinion entertained in \nthe circle in which we move ; nor by what seems \nto stand to our reason. There will be no spreading \nout of these, when the Judge shall sit. The Bible \nwill be the only book of law and authority opened \nthen. \n\nI know very well there is nothing new in what I \n\n\n\nTKACTICAL THOUGHTS. 205 \n\nam saying. Any body can say it, and say it as \nwell. Every body knows it already. But it is one \nof the old things that we need to be often reminded \nof. I know nothing we are more prone to forget \nthan these common-place truths. It is what we know \nbest, and most firmly believe, that we fail most to \nconsider and lay to heart. The most familiar truths \nhave always been the truths by men most disre- \ngarded. \n\nBut let us hear what the Bible says Christians \nare, for I did not intend so long an introduction. \nWell, the Bible says, among other things, that they \nare the light of the world. The blessed Jesus him- \nself is the speaker, and he is addressing his disciples, \nand he says to them \"Ye are the light of the \nworld.\" Observe, he does not say, \" Ye may be, if \nyou are careful to live up to j^our privileges ;\" or \n\"Ye ought to be — it is your duty ;\" or \" Ye shall be \n— by and by, when you have have made greater \nprogress in religion ;\" but he speaks of it as a pre- \nsent matter of fact, \" Ye are the light of the world.\" \n— So it seems that Christians shine. We talk of a \nshining Christian, meaning to distinguish such a \none from Christians in general. But there is no \nChristian who is not a shining one. Every Chris- \ntian emits light. Paul testifies of the Christians of \nPhilippi that they shone as lights in the world. \nThey were what Christ said his disciples were. And \nmust not Christians of our cities and villages be the \n\nsame ? \n\n18 \n\n\n\n206 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS' \n\nIt also appears that Christians are not merely re- \nceivers. They give out — they communicate. That \nis their character. They do not live merely or \nmainly for themselves. A candle is not lighted for \nits own convenience, but for the benefit of others, \nthat it may give light unto all that are in the house. \nSome people think it is enough if they personally \nenjoy religion. But that is not the case. No man \nliveth to himself — much more does no Christian. \n\nThere are two objects for which Christians shine. \nOne is to discover themselves, that the world may \nknow what Christians are, and so be led to emulate \nthe character. This our Savior contemplates when \nhe says, \" Let your light so shine before men, that \nthey may see your good works and glorify your Fa- \nther which is in heaven.\" We are to emit light for \nothers to see by ; and it is that they may see our \ngood works. All Christians perform good works. \nThey are all of them doers. They are the most \npractical men in the world, though regarded by \nmany as visionaries. There are, to be sure, specu- \nlators and theorists enough in the church, but real \nChristians are working men. But what is the use \nin our good works being seen \\ Why is it not \nenough that they be done. Does not humility dic- \ntate that they should be concealed, rather than ex- \nposed ? The thing is impracticable. \" A city that \nis set on a hill cannot be hid.\" Were the thing pos- \nsible the attempt a f concealment might be proper \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 207 \n\nenough, if there were no others to be influenced by \nthe sight of our good works. Whether a candle in \nan uninhabited house be on a candlestick or under \na bushel, is a matter of little consequence ; but not so \nif there be people in the house. The Christian's \ngood works are to be visible ; not that he may be \napplauded for them, but that men may thence be led \nto glorify God. Now, a question. Do we shine? \nAnd by the light which we evolve, do observers see \nour good works ? Have we any good works for \nthem to see? And are they such good works as, \nthey seeing, will instinctively refer to the grace of \nGod as their cause, and so be led to glorify him ? \nWe are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a \nholy nation, a peculiar people ; that we should shew \nforth the praises of him who hath called us out of \ndarkness into his marvelous light. \n\nI would not have any one suppose that a Chris- \ntian is to make an effort to let his good works be \nseen — to be ostentatious of them. No, he is only to \nlet his light shine. He is active in doing good \nworks, but quite passive in shewing them. A lumi- \nnous body makes no effort in emitting light. Indeed \nit cannot help shining. A Christian has only in all \nhis intercourse with men to act out the Christian \nspirit, and be governed by the fear of God, and the \nprinciples of his holy religion, and the thing is done. \nThe light is emitted, and the good works are seen. \nAnd this is the way, under God, to commend truth \n\n\n\n208 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nto the conscience, to reach the hearts of men, and \nmake converts to God. Yes, this is the way. \" Hav- \ning your conversation honest among the Gentiles : \nthat whereas they speak against you as evil doers, \nthey may by your good works, which they shall be- \nhold, glorify God in the day of visitation.\" Another \nquestion. Is this what we are doing — shining so \nthat men, knowing we profess the religion of Jesus, \nsee. in looking at us, how pure, lovely, excellent, and \ndiviae a religion it is, and are led to say, \" Verily, \nit must be from God, and we must embrace it too — \nwe will be Christians ?\" \n\nThe other object for which Christians shine is to \nenlighten others. But on this I cannot now enlarge. \nOnly this I would observe. See how/<zr Christians \nshine! They do not merely illumine some little \nsphere. They are the light of the world. Their in- \nfluence reaches to the ends of the earth. \n\nWould we make good our Savior's assertion with \nrespect to ourselves — would we be the light of the \nworld, let us first take heed that the light which is \nin us be not darkness : and let us next have a care \nthat our light make discovery to others of good \nworks. Let us do them. Then, as for those who \nsee us, it is their fault, not ours, if they are not con- \nverted. And as for those who are too far off to see \nus, it only remains that we carry them the light, or \nsend it to them. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 209 \n\n\n\n43. The Salt of tlie Earth. \n\nHere is something else which Christians are. \nAll that they are cannot be told in a single sentence. \nIt requires many. Some content themselves with a \npartial representation of the Christian character. \nBut the proper plan is to bring together all the Bi- \nble has to say about it, and then aptly to arrange the \nparts so as to present a full and perfect delineation. \nMany seem to think that every definition of religion \nin the Bible is intended to exhaust the subject. It \nis a great mistake, and one which, I fear, is fatal to \nmany. \n\nChristians are the light of the world, as has been \nalready said. But this is not all they are; they are \nalso \" the salt of the earth ;\" and the same individuals \nare both these ; they do not merely shine for the \nbenefit of the world ; they act upon it in another, \nmore immediate and more energetic manner ; they \nare not merely light to it, but salt to it also. They \npreserve it. \n\nHere let me remark, what a useful people Chris- \ntians are ! What are more useful, I may say indis- \npensable, than light and salt ? How could we get \nalong at all without them ? Well, Christians are \nthese to the moral world. They enlighten it. They \ndiscover moral excellence to it. Yea, they preserve \nit from perishing. The world would not keep but for \n18* \n\n\n\n210 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nChristians. They are the salt of the earth. How soon \nSodom was destroyed after Lot left it ! He was the \nsalt of Sodom. That one good man saved the city \nwhile he remained in it ; and if there had been nine \nmore, they might all have remained, and Sodom \nshould have been spared. Well may I say, how use- \nful Christians are to their fellow-creatures ! And I \nmay add, how variously useful they are ! If they \nwere merely light to the world, they could be very \nuseful ; but they are also salt to it. \n\nMoreover, what a disinterested people Christians \nare ! It is not to themselves mainly tjiat they are so \nuseful, but to others. Not a man of them liveth to \nhimself. Light shines not for its own advantage ; \nand salt exists wholly for the benefit of other sub- \nstances ; and how completely it spends itself on them, \nand loses itself in them ! Such are Christians. They \nplease not themselves. They seek not their OAvn. \nThis is what we are, if we are Christians. \n\nAnd now I have another grave reflection to make. \nHow different Christians are from the residue of \nmen ! How eery unlike them ! Others are not the \nlight of the world, and the salt of the earth. No, \nthey are the world — the persons that require the \nlight — the dark objects. They are the earth, which \nneeds the salt for its preservation. They are the \ncorrupt mass. Now, light is very unlike the objects \nit illumines, and salt very unlike the substance it \npreserves or seasons. If it were no*, it would not \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 211 \n\nat all answer the purpose intended by its application. \nWell, just as unlike other men, unregenerate men, \nthe men of the world, are Christians — as unlike as \nare light and the world, or salt and the earth. But \nsome may say, this is figurative language. What \nif it is ? Figures mean something. They mean as \nmuch as literal phraseology. And the meaning of \nfigures is as easily gained as that of any other kind \nof language. But St. John speaks on this subject with- \nout a figure, and he employs one of the strongest and \nmost striking expressions I have ever read. To \nmany ears it does not sound at all charitable. He \nsays, speaking in the name of Christians, \"We know \nthat ice are of God, and the whole world lieth in \nwickedness ;\" or, to translate the original more literal- \nly, and to make the contrast still more striking, in the \nwicked one. This is his account of the difference \nbetween Christians and others. Christians are of \nGod. All other men are in the wicked one. Nor is \nit wonderful that Christians are so very different \nfrom others, when we consider that they become \nsuch by being created anew in Christ Jesus. Such \na work of God upon them must needs make them \nvery unlike those who are not the subjects of it. \nCreation makes a vast difference in things. The \nfirst creation did. The second does alsr The new \ncreature differs widely from the mere.creature. The \nChristian is eminently distinguished from the man. \nChristians are exhorted not to be conformed to the \n\n\n\n212 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nworld. It would seem impossible that real Chris- \ndans should be conformed to it. It would appear to \nbe as contrary to their nature to be conformed to the \nworld, as for light to resemble darkness, or salt any- \ninsipid or corrupt substance. \n\nBut the world say they do not see the mighty dif- \nference between Christians and other men. Perhaps \nit is because they do not look at the right persons. \nIt is no wonder they do not see a mighty difference \nbetween some professors of religion and the rest of \nmankind, for no such difference exists. It is not to \nbe seen. It is not every professor that is a true \nChristian. There are some that pass for Christians, \nof whom it may be said that the light which is in \nthem is darkness. Such are not the lights of the \nworld. They need themselves illumination more \nthan any others, for the darkness which is in them \nis great. Again, there are those in whom, accord- \ning to the case supposed by our Savior, the salt has \nlost its savor — its saline quality. Yes, there are in- \nsipid Christians. That such should not manifest the \ndifference which exists between real Christians and \nothers, is curely not to be wondered at. These differ \nfrom others rather in being worse than better than \nthey. What is so worthless as salt which has lost \nits savor ? \" It is thenceforth good for nothing, but \nto be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.\" \nJust so it is with graceless professors of religion. \nThey serve no good turn, but many an ill one. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 213 \n\nBut some are not entirely without the saline prin- \nciple ; yet have it in great weakness. They are, if \nI may so speak, only a little brackish with it. Let \nsuch give diligence to grow in grace. And let us \nall see to it that we have salt in ourselves, that we \nmay be in this respect also what Christ says his dis- \nciples are, \" the salt of the earth.\" \n\n\n\n43. The Distance of Deatfcu \n\nHow far from any human being is death ? This \nis not equivalent to asking when he will actually die. \nThat may not be for years to come. But all that \ntime how far off is death from him % Not far — only \na step. \" There is but a step between me and death.\" \nDeath is always at just the same distance from every \nman, though all do not die at the same time, and \nsome live to a much greater age than others. Death \nis as contiguous to childhood and youth, as it is to \nmanhood and old age. Facts are every day proving \nit. From no subject of human life, and from no point \nor period of it, is death ever at a greater distance than \nmay be measured by a step. David said what I have \nquoted, of himself. It is just as true of all men, un- \nless some are protected, as Hezekiah was, by a pro- \nmise of God that he should live a number of years, \n\n\n\n214 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nDavid said it in a moment of panic. He might have \nsaid it in his calmest hour. It is no piece of extra- \nvagance. It is a sober reality. It is plain matter of \nfact, that all we who live, live at precisely this little \ndistance from death, and no more. David said it in \nview of a particular danger. But there are a thou- \nsand dangers besetting every man, any one of which \ncould justify the language. We sometimes seem to \nbe nearer death than at other times ; and we are ac- \ntually sometimes nearer dying. Every hour brings \nus nearer dying, but not nearer death, for that is \nnever but \"a step\" off. That is always close at our \nside — our companion through life. The whole course \nof life is in the closest proximity to death. We are \nnot merely tending towards a brink, over which ul- \ntimately we are to plunge, but we are all the time \ntraveling on that brink. We are not journeying \ntowards a precipice which may be more or less dis- \ntant from us, but our whole way winds along the \nfrightful edge of the precipice. Our danger does not \ncommence just before we actually die, but it attends \nus all the way of life. It is true, some escape it for \na long time, but there is not a point in the path \nwhich has not been so dangerous as to prove fatal \nto some travelers. \n\nIt is this, if I mistake not, which makes our con- \ndition here so fearful — this perpetual insecurity — \nthis ever-present and imminent peril. It is not the \ncertainty of the fact in regard to death that is so very \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 215 \n\nappaling to the soul. It is the uncertainty of the \ntime. It is not that ultimately we must die, but that \npresently we may. It is the thought of being neces- \nsarily always so near that great evil — always imme- \ndiately adjacent to the judgment — always close upon, \nthe confines of eternity, and always within a little of \nour everlasting abode — the journey from every point \nof our path so short — a single stage, a single step ! \nNow here ; anon there — this hour with men ; the \nnext with God — to-day only candidates for immor- \ntality; to-morrow its incumbents — to-day on trial \nfor eternity; to-morrow tried, and the case decided \nirreversibly and forever — on earth to-day ; to-morrow \nin heaven or in hell — nor yet the interval always so \ngreat as a day. I do not think the fearfulness of \nman's condition in view of these considerations is \ncapable of being exaggerated. No language can \noverstate it. If the change awaiting us were gradu- \nally brought about, it would not be so fearful. If \none by one the mysterious ligaments of life were \nsundered, and one by one the objects of earth faded \nfrom our view, and the novelties of eternity were \nslowly and separately unfolded to our vision; if the \nsummons of death designated a distant day for our \nappearing at the bar of God, and our way thither \nwas long and difficult, dying would not constitute so \nformidable a prospect as now it does. But the fact \nis, the change is as sudden as it is great. The fami- \nliar scenes of the one world all vanish at once, and \n\n\n\n216 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nthe unimagined realities of the other all at once \nburst on the beholder. The summons requires im- \nmediate attendance, and the way is but a step. There \nis no doubt about this. There are not two minds on \nthe subject. Every one, when asked what his life \nis, answers in similar language, \" It is even a vapor, \nthat appeareth for a little while, and then vanisheth \naway.\" No one contends for the power or right to \nboast of to-morrow. All see that the Son of man \ncometh at such an hour as men think not. The fre- \nquent sudden precipitation into the grave and the \neternal world, of persons of all ages, and of every \ncondition of body, evinces that between them and \ndeath there was but a step. And how should there \nbe more between us and death ? The reasons which \ndetermine God in the dispensations of life and der**h \nare perhaps more inscrutable than those which \ngovern any other part of his conduct. There is no \nclass of facts out of which it is so perfectly impossible \nto construct a theory, as those which relate to human \nmortality. \n\nSo then, death is but a step off, and we cannot \nmove him farther from us. He will keep just at \nthat distance, though he may long maintain it. He \nwill be ever threatening us — his weapon ever up- \nlifted and over us, though he cannot strike until the \nword is given him from another. Is it so ? Is death \nbut a step removed — so near as that ? Then, if there \nbe anything in death which requires preparation, (and \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 217 \n\nis there not?) how important that from the earliest \ndawn of reason it should be made ! so that we may \nbe ever prepared for that which is ever so near — \nalways in panoply to meet an enemy always at hand ! \nHovv absurd to put off preparation for death, when \none cannot put off death itself! Is the reader pre- \npared to die ? He has entertained less momentous \nquestions than this. Is he in readiness to take the \nstep which separates him from all that is final and \nformidable in death ? Will he not seriously institute \nand faithfully prosecute this inquiry ? \n\nBut if death is so near, there are other things even \nmore formidable than death, which cannot be far off. \nJudgment is near, if death is. Yes, \" The Judge \nstandeth before the door.\" How near to every ac- \ncountable being is the place and period of his final \nreckoning ! To-morrow he may have to answer for \nthe deeds of to-day ; or to-day, of yesterday's. How \nmany accounts are closed every day — how many \ncases decided daily at that court of ultimate adjudi- \ncation ! And are we so near the awful interview — \nthe tremendous audit 1 And does it not affect us at \nall ? Are we so well prepared for it, or so careless \nof being prepared for it ? \n\nRetribution ensues immediately on judgment. \nThat also is but the distance of \" a step.\" Now, if \nthat retribution were temporal and mutable, the \nthought would be alarming. But it is eternal and \nirreversible. Ah, then, if these things be so, how \n19 \n\n\n\n218 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. ^ \n\nnear to some is perdition ! It is the verge of that \ndark and fathomless abyss on which they so securely \ntread. What a risk they run ! The prize ought to \nbe great which is sought at such a peril. So near \nto hell ! What a position to occupy ! But if the sin- \nner will repent, and behold the Lamb of God, and \nyield his heart to the Lord, then he shall be as near \nto heaven. There shall be but a step between him \nand it. Some are as near as all that to heaven. It \nis not a day's journey there. It is but to take a step, \nand, follower of Jesus, thou art where no night is, \nand no sound of moaning is heard, and every tear is \nwiped away. So near to heaven ! How frequent then \nand fond should be your thoughts of it ! All so near ! \nThen \" what manner of persons ought we to be in \nall holy conversation and godliness !\" How carefully \nand circumspectly ought they to walk whose path \nlies along such a brink ! \n\nAnd since the end of all our opportunities is as \nnear as death, whatever our minds meditate, or our \nhands find to do, for our own souls, for the good of \nothers, or for the glory of God, let us do it with our \nmight. \n\n\n\n44. Why so L,oth to Die 1 \n\nI find within me a strange reluctance to die ? and \nI perceive in others indications of a similar unwill- \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 219 \n\nmgness. Indeed, it is rare to meet with one who does \nnot participate in this general and great aversion to \ndying. Now I do not wonder that some are unwill- \ning to die. Nature revolts at death. It is the object \nof her strongest antipathy. It is not strange, there- \nfore, that mere natural men should be averse to it. \nSome have nothing to die for. How can it be ex- \npected that they should be willing to die? They \nhave nothing beyond the grave to go to. Their pos- \nsessions all lie on this side of it. They have their \nportion in this life — their good things here. Do you \nwonder they are reluctant to leave them % To such \nto die is loss. Death is not theirs, as it is the Chris- \ntion's ; but on the other hand, they are death's. Je- \nsus is not precious to them. How should they be \n\" willing rather to be absent from the body and to be \npresent with the Lord ?\" What Paul esteemed \" far \netter \" than life — dying in order to be with Christ \n— has for them no charm whatever. \n\nBut that the spiritual man, the disciple and friend \nof Jesus, the child and heir of God, should be so \nstrongly averse to death, deserves to be considered \nstrange. We might indeed expect that there should \nremain some of the reluctance of nature to death, \neven in the subjects of grace, for Christianity does \nnot destroy nature ; but that this reluctance should be \nso strong, and often so predominant, that grace \nshould not create a desire for death stronger than \nnature's aversion to it, is what surprises us, \n\n\n\n220 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nI am sure it ought not to be as it is. Certainly \nevery Christian ought to be able to say with Paul, \n\" having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which \nis far better.\" However averse to being fl unclothed,\" \nhe should yet be willing to be \" clothed upon, that \nmortality might be swallowed up of life.\" Life re- \nquired an exercise of patience in the saints of old, \nwhich seems to have no existence now. Job says, \n\" all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till \nmy change come.\" Then Christian submission was \nexercised in living. Now, to be resigned to death is \nthe desideratum. Grace had then to make its sub- \njects willing to live. Now it has to make them will- \ning to die. \n\nHow shall we account for this reluctance 1 What \nif nature in us be strong, is not grace stronger ? Has \nit subdued our sins, calmed our agitations, allayed \nour fears, and can it not master this one aversion % \nHave we made experiment of what grace can do \nwith the fear of death ? \n\nIs it because of the fain of dying that we shrink \nfrom it? But how know we that to die is so very \npainful ? In half the cases of death at least, it does \nnot appear to be so. How many sicknesses we are \nsubject to, whose progress is attended with far more \npain ! How many surgical operations which men \nreadily submit to, are beyond all doubt productive of \nmore suffering ! \n\nIs this world so bright and beautiful that we are \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 221 \n\nloth to leave it on that account ? But is not heaven \nfairer and brighter far 1 Here there is night ; but \nthere none. Here deformity alternates with beauty ; \nbut there all is loveliness. Here the alloy prevails ; \nthere, there is no mixture — all is pure. Can it be \npossible that earth has charms and attractions equal \nto those of heaven — this earth, which the curse has \nlighted on, comparable in point of beauty and loveli- \nness to that heaven where God manifests himself, \nand which Jesus has gone to prepare as the fit habita- \ntion and eternal home of his redeemed? Is it con- \nceivable ? Even the saints who lived under a dark- \ner dispensation esteemed the heavenly a better coun- \ntry. Is it the separations which death makes, that \nrender us so averse to die ? True, it separates, but it \nunites also. It takes us, I know, from many we love, \nbut it takes us to as many we love. Leave we a fa- \nmily behind ? But do we not go to one larger, more \nharmonious, happier 1 Are we parted from friends \nby death ? And are we not joined to friends by the \nsame ? If we lose a father, do we not find a better \nfather ; and if we leave a dear brother, do we not go \nto one who \" is not ashamed to call us brethren p } \nMore than half of some families have gone already \nto heaven. Why should we be so much more desir- \nous of continuing with the part on earth, than of \ngoing to the portion in heaven ? Do those you part \nfrom need your care and services more than those \nto whom you go 1 But is it not safe going, and leav- \n19 # \n\n\n\n222 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ning them in charge of God ? Is it not he now who \ncares for them, and watches over them, provides for \nthem, and defends them? And will he not do it when \nyou are dead and gone ? Ah, the parent clings to \nlife, and looks imploringly on death, when he thinks \nof his loved little ones ! What will become of them \nhe asks ? What would become of them now, if they \nhad only you to care for them ? It is not your eye \nthat keeps watch over them ; nor your arm that is put \nunderneath and round about them ; nor your hand \nfrom whose opening palm their wants are supplied. \nIt is God's. And what he does by you now, cannot \nhe do without you ? Cannot he find other agents \nand instruments when you are laid aside ? Does he \nnot say of the widows and fatherless children, \" leave \nthem to me ?\" And will he not be faithful to the \ntrust which he solicits 1 \n\nDo rot children desire to see the face of their fa- \nther ? And are not we children of God ? After so \nmany years of daily converse and communion with \nhim, and after receiving so many tokens of his pa- \nternal regard, should you not be willing to go now \nand see him face to face, whose unseen hand has led, \nsustained and supplied you hitherto ? It is unnatural \nin us not to be willing to go to God. We readily \ngo to those we love. \n\nHas home no charm ? What man is he, to whom \nit has not a charm ? Who has been long absent from \nit, and does not languish with desire to reach it ? \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 223 \n\nBut where is home — thy father's house ? It is not \nhere. It is beyond the flood. Earth is not home. \nHeaven is home. Living is not being at home. Dy- \ning is going home. We must die to reach our fa- \nther's house. And yet we are reluctant to die ! \n\nDo you dread the way ? Do you tremble at the \nvhought of the valley of the shadow of death ? What, \nwhen you are sure of such company as that of Je- \nsus? Will you fear with him at your side? Do \nnot talk of the cold arms of death. Think rather of \nthe warm embrace of Jesus. Does he not say he \n\nwill come for you ? \" If I go I will come again, \n\nand receive you unto myself.\" Angels may minister \nto the saints on common occasions, but when a \nChristian dies, Jesus himself attends. \n\nBut death has a sting. You mean he had one. \nTo those who believe in Jesus, no sting of death re- \nmains. \n\nFear you the consequences of dying ? Does the \nthought of the presence into which you are to go \nappal you ? But you have often been into that pre- \nsence in prayer — you have appeared already before \nGod on his mercy seat, and then you have wished \nthe veil away. Why then so unwilling that death \nshould withdraw it ? Were you not gladdened by \nthose transient glimpses of his glory which you \nsaw? And dread you now the full and fixed gaze \nof his glory ? Have you not often sighed for those \nbrighter views, and those nearer and clearer disco- \nveries which death will afford you ? \n\n\n\n224 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nSurely it cannot be the judgment you fear. What, \nwhen you are \" accepted in the beloved !\" If accept- \ned in yourself, you should not fear. How much \nless, when accepted in him ! If God would honor \nyour own righteousness, had you a righteousness of \nyour own, will he not much more honor Christs \nrighteousness, now become yours? What if you \ncannot answer for yourself! Cannot he answer for \nyou ? But who is the judge ? Is it not Jesus, your \nadvocate? Will your advocate condemn you ? Are \nyou afraid to meet your Savior ? He that summons \nyou to judgment, is the same that said \" Come unto \nme, and I will give you rest.\" Would you live al- \nways? I know you would not. But you would \nlive longer, perhaps you say, for the sake of being \nuseful to others. But who knows that you may not \nbe more useful in heaven ? Who can say but your \ndeath may do more good than your life ? Besides, \nif God can dispense with your services, should you \nnot be willing to have them arrested ? \n\nDo you not desire to be freed from all sin ? But \nknow you not that only he \" that is dead is freed \nfrom sin?\" If you cannot be perfectly holy until \nyou die, ought you to be so unwilling to die ? Is \nyour desire of perfect holiness sincere, while you \nare so averse to the condition of it ? \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 225 \n\n45. Heaven's Attractions. \n\nI have been thinking of the attractions of heaven — \nwhat there is in heaven to draw souls to it. 1 thought \nof the place. Heaven has place. Christ says to his \ndisciples, \" I go to prepare a. place for you.\" It is a \npart of the consolation with which he comforts them, \nthat heaven is a place, and not a mere state. What \na place it must be ! Selected out of all the locations \nof the universe — the chosen spot of space. We see, \neven on earth, places of great beauty, and we can \nconceive of spots far more delightful than any we \nsee. But what comparison can these bear to hea- \nven, where every thing exceeds whatever eye has \nseen or imagination conceived ? The earthly para- \ndise must have been a charming spot. But what \nthat to the heavenly ? What the paradise assigned \nto the first Adam, who was of the earth, earthy, com- \npared with that purchased by the second Adam, \nwho is the Lord from heaven ? It is a \" purchased \npossession.\" The price it cost the purchaser every \none knows. Now, having purchased it, he has gone \nto prepare it — to set it in order — to lay out his skill \nupon it. O what a place Jesus will make — has al- \nready made — heaven ! The place should attract us. \n\nThen I thought of the freedom of the place from \nthe evils of earth. Not only what is in heaven, \nshould attract us to it, but what is not there. And \nwhat is not there ? There is no night there, Who \n\n\n\n226 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. . \n\ndoes not want to go where no night is ? No night — \nno natural night — none of its darkness, its damps, \nits dreariness — and no moral night — no ignorance — \nno error — no misery — no sin. These all belong to \nthe night ; and there is no night in heaven. And \nwhy no night there ? What shines there so perpe- \ntually ? It is not any natural luminary. It is a mo- \nral radiance that lights up heaven. \" The glory of \nGod doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light \nthereof.\" No need have they there of other light. \nThis shines every where and on all. All light is \nsweet, but no light is like this. \n\nAnd not only no night there, but \" no more curse.\" \nChrist redeemed them from the curse ©f the law, \nbeing made a curse for them. And \" no more \ndeath\" The last enemy is overcome at last. Each, \nas he enters the place, shouts victoriously, \" O death \n— O grave !\" \" Neither sorrow.\" It is here. O yes. \nIt is here — around, within. We hear it ; we see it ; \nand at length we feel it. But it is not there. \" Nor \ncrying \" — no expression of grief. \" Neither shall \nthere be any more pain : for the former things are \npassed away.\" And what becomes of tears ? Are \nthey left to dry up ? Nay, God wipes them away. \nAnd this is a sure sign they will never return. \nWhat shall cause weeping, when he wipes away \ntears ? \n\nI have not said that there is no sin in heaven. I \nhave not thought that necessary. If sin was there, \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 227 \n\nnight would be there, and the curse, and death, and \nall the other evils — the train of sin. These are not \nthere. Therefore sin is not. No, \" we shall be like \nhim ; for we shall see him as he is.\" \n\nWhat is there then, since these are not 1 Day is \nthere — and there is the blessing that maketh rich — \nand there is life, immortality — and since no sorrow, \njoy — \"fulness of joy — joy unspeakable \" — and smiles \nwhere tears were — and there they rest, not from \ntheir labors only, but from cares, and doubts, and \nfears. And glory is there, an \" exceeding and eter- \nnal weight.\" \n\nThen I thought of the society. It is composed of \nthe Elite of the Universe. The various orders of \nangels who kept their first estate — as humble as \nthey are high — not ashamed of men. Why should \nthey be, when the Lord of angels is not ashamed to \ncall us brethren % The excellent of the earth also — \nall the choice spirits of every age and nation — the \nfirst man — the first martyr — the translated patriarch \n— the survivor of the deluge — the friend of God, and \nhis juniors, Isaac and Israel — Moses, the lawgiver, \nand Joshua the leader of the host — the pious kings — \nthe prophets — the evangelists and apostles, Paul, \nJohn — the martyrs — the reformers — the Puritan fa- \nthers — the missionaries, Swartz, Brainerd, Martyn — \nCarey and Morrison have just gone up; and the \nyoung brothers, who ascended from Sumatra — and \nanother, connected with missions, Wisner, has been \nsuddenly sent for to heaven. \n\n\n\n228 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\nIs that all ? Where is he who used to lisp \" fa- \nther, mother,\" — thy child? Passing out of your \nhands, passed he not into those of Jesus ? Yes, you \nsuffered him. If any other than Jesus had said, \n11 Suffer them to come to me,\" you would have said, \nNo. Death does not quench those recently struck \nsparks of intelligence. Jesus is not going to lose one \nof those little brilliants. All shall be in his crown. \n\nPerhaps thou hast a brother, or a sister there; \nihat should draw you towards heaven. Perhaps a \nmother — she whose eye wept while it watched over \nthee, until at length it grew dim, and closed. Took \nshe not in her cold hand, thine, while yet her heart \nwas warm, and said she not, \" I am going to Jesus. \nFollow me there ?\" Perhaps one nearer, dearer than \nchild, than brother, than mother — the nearest, dear- \nest is there. Shall I say who ? Christian female, \nthy husbund. Christian father, the young mother of \nthy babes. He is not. She is not; for God took \nthem. Has heaven no attractions ? \n\nHeaven is gaining in attractions every day. True, \nthe principal attractions continue the same. But the \nlesser ones multiply. Some have attractions there \nnow, which they had not but a few months ago. \nEarth is losing. How fast it has been losing ot \nlate ! But earth's losses are heaven's gains. They \nwho have left so many dwelling places of earth de- \nsolate, have gone to their Father's house in heaven. \nWhat if they shall not return to us ? We shall go \nto them. That is better. \n\n\n\nPRACTICAL THOUGHTS. 229 \n\nBut the principal attractions I have not yet men- \ntioned. There is our Father — our heavenly Father, \nwhom we have so often addressed as such in prayer. \nHe that nourished and brought us up, and has borne \nus on — he that has watched over us with an eye \nthat never sleeps, and provided for us with a hand \nthat never tires ; and who can pity too. We have \nnever seen our heavenly Father. But there he re- \nveals himself. There he smiles ; and the nations of \nthe saved walk in the light of his countenance. \n\nAnd there is he, to depart and be with whom \nPaul desired, as being \" far better \" than to live, \nThere is his glorified humanity. If not having \nseen, we love him ; and in him, though now we see \nhim not, yet believing, we rejoice with joy un- \nspeakable and full of glory, what will be the love \nand the joy when \"we shall see him as he is?\" \nThere is he. \n\nHeaven has attractions — many, and strong — and \nyet who would think it ? How few feel and obey \nthe heavenly attraction ! How much more power- \nfully earth acts upon us ! How unwilling we are to \nleave it even for heaven ! \n\n\n\n46. The Heavenly Recognition. \n\nThe question is often asked, \" Do you think we \nshall know each other in heaven ?\" Some are very \n20 \n\n\n\n230 PRACTICAL THOUGHTS. \n\ncurious to be informed on this subject. It is a point \nthey seem more anxious to know than some other \nmore important points. I am afraid we shall not all \nknow each other in heaven. I am afraid we shall \nnot all be there to know and be known. Let us first \ntry to get to heaven. It is more important that we \nshould be there, than that we should know what \nother persons are there. Let us repent with a broken \nheart ; and believe in Christ for a title to heaven ; \nand \" let us follow holiness \" that we may be fur- \nnished with a fitness for heaven; and being our- \nselves \"accepted in the Beloved,\" and sanctified \nthrough the Spirit, let us try to get as many others \nto heaven as we can ; and let us leave the subject of \nmutual recognition in heaven for subsequent consi- \nderation. By the time we have done what I recom- \nmend, we shall be close upon the celestial confines \n\nperhaps within heaven's limits * * * * \n\n[The article is unfinished. The beloved author \nhere laid down his pen ; and instead of resuming it, \nwas called, who can question, to realise the scenes \nhe had been describing.] \n\n\n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\nIfttS^W^ffifitffS \n\n\n\nIf ® ® ® i If » \n\n\n\nTo the law and to the testimony.\" lea. \n\n\n\nY REV. WILLIAM NEVINS, D. D \n\nLate Pastor of a Church in Baltimore. \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n\n150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW-YORK. \n\n\n\nD. Fatuhaw, Printer. \n\n\n\nEntered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836, by \nRukus L. Nevins, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court \nof the Southern District of New-York. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS \n\n\n\nNo. Pjge. \n\n1. Sufficiency of the Bible as a Rule of Faith and \n\nGuide to Salvation, 7 \n\n2. The Source of Heresies, 10 \n\n3. Private Interpretation, - - - - - -11 \n\n4. Popery Unscriptural, 15 \n\n5. Evil of believing too much, 18 \n\nG. The Nine Commandments, 21 \n\n7. Catholic hostility to the Bible, - - - - 25 \n\n8. Something for the Rev. Mr. H. - - - - 30 \n\n9. Distinction of Sins into Mortal and Venial, - - 33 \n\n10. The Deadly Sins, -35 \n\n11. A Religion without a Holy Spirit, - - 37 \n\n12. Infallibility, 40 \n\n13. The Keys, 44 \n\n11 The Head of the Church, 47 \n\n15. The power to forgive Sins, 51 \n\n16. A Catholic Book reviewed, - 50 \n\n17. Review of the Catholic Book continued, - - 00 \n\n18. The Pope an Idolater, - - - - -65 \n\n19. Charles X. an Idolater, 69 \n\n20. Idolatiy near home, ------ 73 \n\n21. Praying to Saints, - - - - - # - 76 \n\n22. Specimens of Catholic Idolatry, 80 \n\n23. More Specimens of Catholic Idolatry, - 85 \n\n24. Image Worship, ------ 89 \n\n25. Relics, - - - 94 \n\n26. Seven Sacraments, ------ 100 \n\n27. Transubstantiation, - 103 \n\n28. Haifa Sacrament, 105 \n\n20. Extreme Unction, 109 \n\n\n\n4 CONTENTS. \n\nJto. Page. \n\n30. Doing Penance, 112 \n\n31. The hardest Religion, 116 \n\n32. More about Penance, 120 \n\n33. A Fast-day Dinaer, 122 \n\n34. The Mass, 125 \n\n35. More about the Mass, 130 \n\n36. The Host, 136 \n\n37. Priests, 140 \n\n38. Celibacy of the Clergy, 144 \n\n39. A Holier state than Matrimony, - 146 \n\n40. Auricular Confession, .... - 148 \n\n41. A Mistake Corrected - - - - • 151 \n\n42. Purgatory, -------- 152 \n\n43. More about Purgatory, ----- 156 \n\n44. A Strange Thing, 158 \n\n45. Canonizing Saints, , - 161 \n\n46. General La Fayette not at rest, - - - - 165 \n\n47. Prayers for the Faithful Departed, - - - . 170 \n\n48. An Improvement, -175 \n\n49. The Duke of Brunswick's Fiftieth Reason, - 178 \n\n50. The Duke's Seventh Reason, - - - - 181 \n\n51. The Duke's Eleventh Reason, 187 \n\n52. Beauties of the Leopold Reports, ... 190 \n\n53. Beauties of the Leopold Reports, ... 194 \n\n54. Partiality of the Church of Rome, - - - 196 \n\n55. Supererogation, .---.- 200 \n\n56. Convents, >c - 204 \n\n57. Mr. Berrington and Mrs. More, - - - 207 \n\n58. A new method of exciting Devotion, - 212 \n\n\n\nThe lamented author of the following articles had long \nmourned over the influence of Romanism, as essentially a \npolitical rather than a religious institution — attracting men \nby its splendid and imposing exterior, to the neglect of that \nspirituality of heart, without which no man can \"see the \nkingdom of God.\" He had made repeated endeavors to \nengage what he considered abler pens in exposing its ab- \nsurdities ; and at length, as a means of reaching the greatest \nnumber of minds, commenced the insertion of brief mis- \ncellaneous articles bearing on the subject in a widely circu- \nlated weekly newspaper— the New- York Observer— using \nthe signature M. S. the finals of his name. In familiarity \nof style, kindness and cheerfulness of manner, and plain \ncommon sense, they are adapted to secure the attention and \ncarry conviction to the heart of the general reader; while \ntheir richness of thought and clearness and conclusiveness \nof argument will render them not less acceptable to mature \nand cultivated minds. Finding the reception they met, it \nwas the design of the author to comply with requests from \nnumerous sources entitled to his regard, by himself (when \nthe series should have been somewhat further extended) \nembodying them in a volume ; but the failure of his health \nand the early close of his valuable life prevented the fulfill- \nment of that design. They are now given to the public ill \naccordance with general suggestions of the author, but es- \nsentially in the form in which they at first appeared. \n\n\n\ntfSS#W<S2I£^0 <8>» &Q»38&'ar» \n\n\n\n1. The Sufficiency of the Bible as a Rule of Faitli \nand Guide to Salvation. \n\nThis is the great matter in controversy between Pro- \ntestants and Roman Catholics. We say the Bible is \nsufficient. They say that it is not. Now, suppose that \nPaul the apostle be permitted to decide between us. \nWe are agreed to refer the matter to him. Can our \nopponents object to this reference? Let Paul then be \nconsulted in the only way in which he can be, viz. \nthrough his acknowledged writings. It is agreed on all \nhands that he wrote the second epistle to Timothy. \nWell, in the third chapter of that epistle, and at the \n15th verse, he writes to Timothy thus : \" And that \nfrom a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, \nwhich are able to make thee wise unto salvation.\" \nThat the Greek is here correctly translated into Eng- \nlish, any scholar may see. \n\nHere then we have what Paul wrote, and I cannot \nbelieve that he would write, in a letter to Timothy, that \nthe Holy Scriptures are capable of being known by a \nchild, and able to make wise unto salvation, and then \nsay, to be handed down by tradition, that they are so \nobscure and abstruse that one can make nothing out \nof them. \n\nBut what did Paul write to Timothy about the Holy \n\n\n\nti THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nScriptures ? He reminds him that he had known them \nfrom a child, that is, he had been acquainted with them \nso far as to understand them from that early age. Now, \neither Timothy was a most extraordinary child, of \nwhich there is no proof, or else the Holy Scriptures \nof the Old Testament, and of the New, so far as the \nlatter was written and recognized at the time, are in- \ntelligible to a child. I see not how this conclusion can \nin any way be evaded. If the child of Eunice could \nand did know them, why may not my child and your \nchild, and any child of ordinary understanding? And \nwhat do Ave want more for a rule of faith, than a Bible \nwhich a child can understand? The Bible then can- \nnot be insufficient as a rule of faith, through any want \nof perspicuity in it. That point is settled. \n\nBut Paul says something more to Timothy about \nthese same Scriptures, \"which\" he says, u are able \nto make thee wise unto salvation\" Why, what is the \nmatter with the man? He talks as if he had taken \nlessons of Luther. When did he live ? They say that \nthe Protestant religion is only three hundred years old, \nbut here is a man who lived well nigh eighteen hun- \ndred years ago, that writes amazingly like a Protestant \nabout the Holy Scriptures. He says (and I have just \nbeen looking at the Greek to see if it is so there, and I \nfind that it is) they are able to make thee wise unto \nsalvation. Now, who wishes to be wiser than that? \nand if they can make one thus wise, they can make \nany number equally Avise. So then the Scriptures can \nbe knoAvn by children, and can make AA r ise to sah'ation \nthose Avho knoAV them. This is Paul's decision, and \nhere should be an end of the contnwersy. If this prove \nnot the sufficiencv of the Bible as a rule of faith and \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nguide to salvation, I know not how any thing can be \nproved. I will tell you what I am determined to do \nthe next time a Catholic opens his mouth to me about \nthe insufficiency and obscurity of our rule of faith, I \nmean to take hold of the sword of the Spirit by this \nhandle, 2 Tim. 3 : 15, and I mean to hold on to this \nweapon of heavenly temper, and to wield it manfully, \nuntil my opponent surrender or retreat. He cannot \nstand before it. \n\nBut before I close this, I must say, that if the Scrip- \ntures which existed when Paul wrote to Timothy were \nable to make wise unto salvation, how much more \nare they with what has been added to the canon since 1 \nAnd here, by the way, we have an answer to the ques- \ntion which the Catholic asks with such an air of tri- \numph : \" How, if this be your rule of faith, did Chris- \ntians get along before the New Testament was writ- \nten and received?\" Very well; they had Scriptures \nenough to make them \"wise unto salvation\" as early \nas the time of Timothy ; and they had, many years \nbefore that, all the Old Testament, and a part of the \nNew. Now, with Moses and the prophets, ai«d the \nPsalms, and Matthew's Gospel, and perhaps some \nothers, together with a large number of divinely in- \nspired men, I think they must have got along very \ncomfortably. \n\nOne thing more I desire to say. It is this : that there \nis an advantage for understanding the Bible, which \ndoes not belong to any book whose author is not per- \nsonally accessible. Tite advantage is, that we have \ndaily and hourly opportunity to consult the Author of \nthe Bible on the meaning of it. We can, at any mo- \nment we please, go and ask him to interpret to us any \n\n\n\n10 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndifficult passage. We can lift off our eyes from the \nword of truth, when something occurs which we do \nnot readily comprehend, and direct them to the throne \nof grace. And what encouragement we have to do \nthis ! James tells us, \" If any of you lack wisdom, let \nhim ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and \nupbraideth not ; and it shall be given him.\" So then \nwe have the Bible to inform and guide us, and we \nhave constant opportunities of consulting its Author in \nregard to its meaning. Is it not enough ? I, for one, \nam satisfied. I can dispense with the fathers, &c. &c. \n\n\n\na. The Source of Heresies. \n\nThe Roman Catholics say it is the Bible. They \ntrace all the errors and divisions which prevail, to the \nScriptures as their fountain. Do they know whose \nbook it is which they thus accuse ? How dare they \ncharge God with being \" the Author of confusion ?\" \nBut is the Bible to blame for heresies ? Christ gives a \nvery different account of the matter. He says, Matt. \n22 : 29, to the Sadducees, \" Ye do err, not knowing the \nScriptures.\" He makes ignorance of the Scriptures \nthe source of heresies. He does not agree with the \npriests. \n\nIt is very strange, if the reading of the Scriptures is \nthe cause of heresies in religion, that the Bereans, who \nsearched them daily, because they would not take on \ntrust even what Paid said, (and I suspect they would \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON TOPERY. 11 \n\nnot have treated Peter any more civilly,) did not fall \ninto any of these errors. It would seem to have had \nquite a contrary effect, for it is added, \" therefore many \nof them believed.\" Acts, 17 : 11, 12. Whatever these \nBereans were, it is clear that they were not good Ca- \ntholics. \n\nBut after all it is not surprising that these noble Be- \nreans did not fall into any fatal error by reason of read- \ning the Scriptures, since Peter says of Paul's hardest \nparts, and most obscure passages, that they do nobody \nany harm, but such as are both \" unlearned and un- \nstable;\" and that they do them no harm, except they \nwrest them, that is, do absolute violence to them. 2 \nPet. 3 : 16. \n\n\n\n3. Private Interpretation. \n\nIt is known to every body how strenuously the Ca- \ntholics oppose the reading of the Bible, or rather, I \nshould say, the reader exercising his mind on the \nBible which he reads. He may read for himself, if \nhe will only let the church think for him. He may \nhave a New Testament, and he may turn to such a \npassage as John, 3 : 16, \" God so loved the world that \nhe gave his only begotten Sen,\" &c. or to that, Matt. \n11 : 28, 30, \" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are \nheavy laden, and I Avill give you rest,\" &c. and he \nmay read the words, but then he must not attempt to \nwit a meaning upon them, though it be very difficult \n\n\n\n12 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nto avoid attaching a sense to them, since they are \nquite as easy to be understood as they are to be read. \nBut he must not do it. At his peril he must not. He \nis guilty of the crime of private interpretation, if he \ndoes. Before he pretends to understand those passages, \nhe must inquire how the church has always interpreted \nthem, and what the popes and general councils have \nthought about them, and how all the fathers, from \nBarnabas to Bernard, not one excepted, have under- \nstood them. Well, now, it strikes me as rather hard \nupon the poor sinner, that he should be made to go \nthrough this long and difficult process before he is \npermitted to admire the love of God in the gift of his \nSon, and before he can go to Jesus for rest. And \nsomehow I cannot help suspecting that it is not ne- \ncessary to take this circuitous course, and that it is \nnot so very great a sin when one reads such passages, \nto understand them according to the obvious import \nof their terms. \n\nBut the Catholic asks, \" Does not Peter condemn \nprivate interpretation ?\" And they point us to his 2d \nEpistle, 1 : 20. \" Knowing this first, that no prophecy \nof the Scripture is of any private interpretation.\" Now \nyou must know that Catholics, though they have no \ngreat attachment to the Bible, are as glad as any peo- \nple can be, when they can get hold of a passage of it, \nwhich seems to establish some tenet of theirs. And \nas only a very small portion of the Bible has even the \nappearance of favoring them, one may observe with \nwhat eagerness they seize upon, and with what te- \nnacity they cling to the rare passages which seem to \nbefriend their cause. Thus they do with this pas- \nsage of Peter. Thev quote it with an air of triumph, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 13 \n\nand exultingly ask what Protestants can have to re- \nply to it. \n\nNow, in the name of Protestants, I will state in two \nor three particulars what we have to say in opposition \nto the Catholic inference from these words of Peter. \nWe say that that passage does not make for the Ca- \ntholic cause, first, because if the right of private judg- \nment and private interpretation is taken away by it, \nas they affirm, yet it is taken away with respect to \nonly a small part of the Bible, viz. the prophetic part. \nHe does not say that any other part, the historical, the \ndidactic, or the hortatory, is of private interpretation, \nbut only the prophetic, that part in which something \nis foretold. He does not say no Scripture, but \" no \nprophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpreta- \ntion.\" Allowing then to the Catholic all which he \ncontends for, we are left with by far the larger part \nof the Bible open to private interpretation. Peter re- \nstricts us only in the matter of prophecy ! \n\nBut secondly, let me say, that to whatever the re- \nmark of the apostle has reference, it can easily be \nshown that it does not mean what the Catholic under- \nstands it to mean. This is evident from what follows \nit. I wish the reader would turn to the passage. He \nwill perceive that Peter, having said that no prophecy \nof the Scripture is of any private interpretation, pro- \nceeds to assign the reason of that assertion, or rather, \nas I think, goes into a further and fuller explanation of \nwhat he had said : \" For the prophecy came not in old \ntime by the will of man, (that is, it was not of human \ninvention, it did not express the conjectures of men,) \nbut holy men of God spake as they w<ere moved by \nthe Holy Ghost.\" Now I would ask if this reason \n2 \n\n\n\n14 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nconfirms the Catholic view of the passage ? Is the \nfact that the Bible was written by men inspired of God \nto write it, any reason why it should not be of private \ninterpretation? Does the circumstance that God gave \nthem the thoughts, and even suggested to them the \nwords in which they should clothe them, render the \nproduction so unintelligible, or so equivocal in its \nmeaning, that a private individual cannot be trusted \nto read it ? That would be to say that God cannot \nmake himself understood as easily as men can! The \nCatholic argument from this passage may be stated \nthus : the Bible is an inspired book, therefore too ob- \nscure and ambiguous to be of private interpretation ! \nInspired, therefore unintelligible ! \n\nIf it be so hard to understand what God says, how \nwas the divine Savior able to make himself understood \nby the common people who heard him gladly ? I sus- \npect they knew what he meant when he said, \" Come \nunto me, and I will give you rest.\" The sermon on \nthe mount seems to have been understood by those \nwho heard it. No one thought of asking how others \nunderstood it. No one felt the necessity of an inter- \npreter : every one exercised his private judgment on \nwhat Christ said. Now, suppose that what Jesus said \nto the people, and they found no difficulty in under- \nstanding it, had been taken down in writing at the \ntime, would not they who understood it when they \nheard it, have equally understood it when they read \nit? The spoken discourses of Christ were intelligi- \nble : have they become unintelligible by being written? \n\nTo return for a moment to the passage in Peter. I \nconsider that the word rendered in verse 20, interpre- \ntation, should be translated as Dr. M'Knight trans- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 15 \n\nlates it, invention; or, as another renders it, impulse: \nand verse 21 should be considered as explanatory of \nthat which precedes it. If the apostle really intended \nto deny the right of private judgment, why does he in \nverse 19 exhort all the saints, to whom he wrote, to \ntake heed to \" the more sure word of prophecy,\" the \nvery thing in reference to which he is supposed to deny \nthe right of private judgment ? Why should they take \nheed to it, if it is not of private interpretation ? and \nwhy does he speak of it as \" a light that shineth in a \ndark place ?\" \n\nFinally : If no part of Scripture is of private inter- \npretation, then of course the passage of Scripture, 2 \nPet. 1 : 20, is not of private interpretation ; and yet \nthe Catholic exercises his private judgment upon it, \nand submits it to the private judgment of the Protes- \ntant, in the hope thereby of making him a Catholic ! \nNo part of Scripture, according to him, may be pri- \nvately interpreted, but that which affirms that no part, \nnot even itself, may be privately interpreted ! \n\n\n\n4. Popery Unscriptural. \n\nI undertake to prove that the Roman Catholic reli- \ngion is unscriptural — that it is not borne out by the \nBible. If I can do that, I shall be satisfied ; for a reli- \ngion, professing to be Christianity, which does not \nagree with the statements of Matthew, Mark, Luke, \nJohn, Paul, Peter, James and Jude, will, I am per- \n\n\n\n16 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsuaded, never go down in the United States of Ame- \nrica. It may do for Spain, Portugal and Italy ; but it \nwill not do here. There is too much respect for the \nBible in this republican land to admit of such a thing. \nRepublicans know too well how much liberty owes to \nthe Bible. They know that tyranny cannot exist where \nthe Bible, God's magna charta to mankind, is in the \nhands of the people. Besides, the people of this coun- \ntry have too much good common sense to take that \nfor Christianity about which the evangelists and the \napostles knew nothing. I think, therefore, that I shall \nhave gained the point, if I show that Romanism and \nthe Bible are at odds. This, if I mistake not, I can \neasily do. \n\nThe Roman Catholics act very much as if they them- \nselves did not regard their religion as being scriptural. \nWhy, if they believe that their religion is the religion \nof the Bible, do they not put the Bible into the hands \nof the people, and advise them to read it, that they \nmay become, or continue to be good Roman Catholics ? \nWhy not circulate far and wide the book which con- \ntains their religion? They need not take our transla- \ntion of it. They have one of their own — the Douay. \nLet them circulate that. Why do they leave the whole \nbusiness of distributing the Scriptures to the Protes- \ntants? Above all, why do they oppose the operations \nof Bible Societies, when they are only multiplying \nand diffusing copies of the book which contains the \nRoman Catholic religion ? \n\nI am particularly surprised that the Roman Catholics \nare not more anxious to put into general circulation the \ntwo epistles of their St. Peter, who they assert was \nthe first Bishop of Rome, and earliest Pope. They ac- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 17 \n\nknowledge that he wrote two epistles, and that they \nare extant. Why, in the name of common sense, do \nthey not let every Catholic have them ! I do not won- \nder that they wish to keep out of sight of the people \nthe epistles of Paul, who says, Gal. 2 : 11, that he \nwithstood Peter to the face, \" because he was to be \nblamed.\" Paul forgot at the moment that Peter was \nsupreme and infallible ! We are all liable to forget. \nBut why the rulers of the church should be unwilling \nto let the people hear Peter, is the wonder with me. I \nhave been reading his epistles, to see if I can discover \nwhy the Catholics are not friendly to their circulation. \nPerhaps it is because in them he says nothing about \nRome, unless by Babylon, 1 Ep. 5 : 13, he means \nRome, as John does in the Revelation ; and never a \nword about his being Bishop of Rome, or Pope ! The \nman seems to have no idea that he was a pope. He \nsays in his 1st Epistle, 5:1, \" The elders which are \namong you I exhort, who am also an elder.\" An el- \nder ! was that all ? Why, Peter, do you forget your- \nself? Do you not know that you are universal Bishop, \nPrimate of the Apostolical College, Supreme and \nInfallible Head of the Church ? He seems never to \nhave known one word about it. Now I think I have \nhit upon one reason why it is thought best that the \npeople in general should not be familiar with the wri- \ntings of Peter. \n\nI wish, for my part, that the Catholics would print \nan edition of Peter's Epistles, and give them general \ncirculation among their members ; for if the religion \nof these epistles is their religion I have no further \ncontroversy with them. \n\n2* \n\n\n\nIS THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n5. The Evil of Believing Too Much. \n\nIt is a common saying among the Catholics, that it \nis oetter to believe too much than to believe too little ; \nand it is one of the arguments with which they endea- \nvor to make proselytes, that they believe all that Pro- \ntestants believe, besides a good deal that Protestants \ndo not believe. Hence they would have it inferred that \ntheir religion possesses all the advantages which be- \nlong to Protestantism, and some more into the bargain ; \nso that if the religion of the Reformation is safe, much \nmore is that of the church of Rome safe. Now, as I \nam certain that this way of talking {reasoning it is \nnot worthy to be called) has some influence in making \nCatholics, I shall take the liberty of examining it. \n\nWhy is it better to believe too much than to believe \ntoo little ? Excess in other things is not better than \ndefect. To eat or drink too much is not better than to \nsat or drink too little. To believe that two and two \nmake five, is as bad as to believe that two and two \nmake three. One of these errors will derange a man's \ncalculations as much as the other. The man who be- \nlieves that two and two make five, has no advantage \nbecause he believes the whole truth and a little more. \n\nA certain writer, who ought to be in high authority \nat Rome as well as every where else, represents addi- \ntions to the truth to be as injurious and a& offensive to \nGod as subtraction from it. Rev. 22 : 18, 19. \" If any \nman shall add unto these things, God shall add unto \nhim the plagues that are written in this book.\" Here \nyou see what a man gets by believing too much. It is \nnot altogether so safe a thing as the Catholics reprc- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 19 \n\nsent it to be. Adding is as bad as taking away. For \nevery article added there is a plague added. \n\nI suppose that one reason why these additions to the \ntruth are so offensive to God is, that they are such ad- \nditions as take from that to which they are added ; just \nas when a man puts \" a piece of new cloth into an old \ngarment, that which is put in to fill it up taketh from \nthe garment, and the rent is made worse.\" Mat. 9 : 16. \nAll the additions of the church of Rome to Christiani- \nty take away from some of its doctrines. She first cuts \na hole in the robe of Christ and then applies her patch ! \nIn order to make room for her doctrine of human me- \nrit, she has to take away just so much from the merit \nof Christ. The Protestant doctrine is, that we are justi- \nfied by faith alone, without the deeds of the law. Nay, \nsays the Catholic, our own good works have some- \nthing to do in the matter of our justification. Now, this \naddition does not leave entire that to which it is added, \nbut takes from it ! \n\nWe hold to the perfection of the one sacrifice offered \nby Christ on the cross. The Catholics add to this the \nsacrifice of the mass. They are not satisfied with \nChrist's being \" once offered to bear the sins of many,\" \nbut they teach the strange doctrine that Christ is of- \nfered as often as a priest is pleased to say mass ! \n\nNothing is farther from the truth than that the Ca- \ntholic believes all which the Protestant believes, be- \nsides a great deal that the Protestant does not believe. \nThe latter part of the assertion is correct. The Ca- \ntholics believe a great deal which the Protestants do \nnot. In the quantity of their faith they far surpass us. \nThere is the whole that is comprehended in tradition. \nThey believe every word of it— while Protestants are \n\n\n\n20 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsatisfied with Holy Scripture. But the Catholics do \nnot believe all that Protestants believe ; they do not \nbelieve the Protestant doctrine of regeneration, or jus- \ntification, or other cardinal doctrines. \n\nBut, asks one, is not all that Protestants believe \ncontained in the Scriptures ! Yes. Well, Catholics \nbelieve the Scriptures. Therefore they believe all \nwhich Protestants do ; and then, moreover, they be- \nlieve tradition ; so that they believe all which Protes- \ntants believe, and some more besides. Very logical, to \nbe sure ! But suppose that tradition and Scripture hap- \npen to contradict each other, how then? What sort of \nan addition to a testimony is a contradiction of it? I \nmight give some precious specimens of these contra- \ndictions. The Catholic believes with Scripture, that \n\"marriage is honorable in all;\" and he believes with \ntradition, that it is very disgraceful in some. One of \nhis rules of faith affirms that \" all our righteousnesses \nare as filthy rags,\" but the other assures him that there \nis merit in his good works. One says that Peter was \nto be blamed, but the other asserts his infallibility. \nAccording to one, Peter was a simple elder ; but ac- \ncording to the other, universal bishop, &c. The Catho- \nlic says he believes both, and therefore he is in a safer \nstate than the Protestant. Well, when I can be con- \nvinced that two contradictory assertions are both true, \nI may believe as much as the Catholic believes. Mean- \nwhile I am satisfied with believing enough ; and not \ncaring to be more than perfectly safe, I shall continue \nto be a Protestant. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 21 \n\n\n\n6. Tke Nine Commandments. \n\n\"Nine commandments ! What does that mean ? I \nalways thought the commandments were ten?'' There \nused to be that number. There were ten proclaimed \nby the voice of God from Mount Sinai ; and ten were \nwritten by the finger of God on the tables of stone, \nand when the tables were renewed, there were still \nten : and the Jews, the keepers of the Old Testament \nScriptures, always recognized ten ; and so did the pri- \nmitive church, and so do all Protestants in their creeds \nand catechisms. But the Roman Catholics, (you know \nthey can take liberties, for they are the true church, \nthey are infallible. A person, and so a church, which \ncannot possibly make a mistake, need not be very par- \nticular about what it does,) these Christians who have \ntheir head away off at Rome, subtract one from the \nten commandments ; and you know if you take one \nfrom ten, only nine remain. So they have but nine \ncommandments. Theirs is not a Decalogue, but a \nNonalogue. \n\nIt is just so. When, many years ago, I first heard \nof it, I thought it was a slander of the Protestants. \nI said, \" O, it cannot be that they have dared to med- \ndle with God's ten commandments, and leave out one. \nThey cannot have been guilty of such impiety. Why, \nit is just as if some impious Israelite had gone into \nthe holy of holies, opened the ark of the covenant, and \ntaking out the tables of stone, had, with some instru- \nment of iron, obliterated one of the commands which \nthe divine finger wrote on them.\" But then it struck \nme how improbable it was that such a story should \n\n\n\n22 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\never have gained currency, unless there was some \nfoundation for it. Who would ever have thought of \ncharging Roman Catholics with suppressing one of \nthe commandments, unless they had done it, or some- \nthing like it ? \n\nSo I thought I would inquire whether it was so or \nnot; and I did, and found it to be a fact, and no slan- \nder. I saw with my own eyes the catechisms published \nunder the sanction of bishops and archbishops, in \nwhich one of the commandments was omitted ; and \nthe reader may see the same thing in \" The Manual \nof Catholic Piety,\" printed no farther off than in Phi- \nladelphia. The list of the commandments runs thus : \n\n1. I am the Lord thy God ; thou shalt not have \nstrange Gods before me. \n\n2. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy \nGod in vain. \n\n3. Remember the Sabbath day, &c. \n\nThe reader will see that the commandment which \nthe Catholics leave out, as being grievous to them, is \nthe second in the series. It is the one that forbids \nmaking graven images and likenesses of any thing for \nworship. That is the one they don't like ; and they \ndon't like it, because they do like pictures and images \nin their churches. They say these things wonderfully \ntend to promote devotion, and so they do away that \ncommandment of God ! David says, \" I esteem all \nthy precepts concerning all things to be right.\" But \nhe was no Catholic. \n\nWell, having got rid of the second, they call the \nthird second, and our fourth they number third, and \nso on till they come to our tenth, which, according to \ntheir numbering, is the ninth. But as they don't like \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 23 \n\nthe sound of \" the nine commandments,\" since the \nBible speaks of \"the ten commandments,\" Exod. 34 : \n28 ; Deut. 4 : 13, and every body has got used to the \nnumber ten, they must contrive to make out ten some \nhow or other. And how do you think they do if? \nWhy, they halve their ninth, and call the first part \nninth, and the other tenth. \n\nSo they make out ten. In the Philadelphia Manual, \ncorrected and approved by the Right Rev. Bishop \nKenrick, it is put dowathus: \"9th. Thou shalt not \ncovet thy neighbor's wife. 10th. Thou shalt not covet \nthy neighbor's goods.\" You see they make two of the \ncommandments to relate to coveting. It is not very \nprobable the Lord did so. I reckon they were not so \nnumbered on the tables of stone. But you see it would \nnever do to let that second commandment stand, and \nit would never do to have less than ten : so they were \nlaid under a sort of necessity to do as they have done. \nBut, after all, it is a bad job. It is not near so inge- \nnious as many of the devices of Popery. After all is \nsaid and done, they have but nine commandments ; for \nevery body knows that by dividing any thing you get \nnot two wholes, but two halves: there is but one \nwhole after the division. And so the ninth command- \nment is but one commandment after they have divided \nit. If they were to quarter it they could not make \nany more of it. If the Catholics are bent on dividing \nthe last of the commandments, they should call the \nfirst half, 8^, and the second half, 9th. That is what \nthey ought to do. That would be acting honestly, \nfor they know they have left out one of the Lord's \nten. They know that the Lord gave ten command- \nments, and they acknowledge only nine of them. It \n\n\n\n24 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nis a mean device to divide one of the nine, and then \nsay they acknowledge ten. The Catholics know that \nthe commandments, as they are in many of their cate- \nchisms, are not as they were written with the fing&r of \nGod on the tables of stone. They know that one is \nwanting, and why it is they know. They had better \ntake care how they do such things, for the Lord is a \njealous God. \n\nIndeed the Catholics are sorry for what they have \ndone in this matter. It has ttrned out a bad specula- \ntion. This reduction of the law of God one-tenth, \nhas led to the opening of many eyes. They would \nnever do the like again. And as a proof of their re- \npentance, they have restored the second command- \nment in many cases : they can show you a great many \ncatechisms and books in which it is found. I had sup- \nposed that the omission existed now only in the cate- \nchisms published and used in Ireland, until I heard of \nthe Philadelphia Manual. They had better repent \nthoroughly, and restore the commandment in all their \npublications. And I think it would not be amiss for \nthem to confess that for once they have been fallible ; \nthat in the matter of mutilating the Decalogue, they \ncould, and did err. If they will afford us that evidence \nof repentance, we will forgive them, and we will say \nno more about it. We know it is a sore subject with \nthem ; they don't know how to get along with it. When \none asks them, \" How came you to leave out the second \ncommandment ?\" if they say, \" Why, we have not left \nit out of all our books.\" The other replies, \" But why \ndid you leave it out of any ?\" and there the conversa- \ntion ends. Echo is the only respondent, and she but \nrepeats the question, \" Why V \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 25 \n\n\n\n7. Catholic Hostility to the Bible. \n\nI am not surprised that the Roman Catholics dislike \nthe Bible, for very much the same reason that Ahab, \nking of Israel, disliked Micaiah, the prophet of the \nLord. 1 Kings, 22 : 8. It is hard not to contract a \nstrong dislike to that which is for ever bearing testi- \nmony against one. To love an enemy is one of the \nmost difficult attainments. Now, the Bible is all the \ntime speaking against the Catholic religion, and pro- \nphesying not good, but evil of it, just as Micaiah did of \nAhab. It is natural, therefore, that the Catholic should \nfeel an aversion to the Bible. We ought not to expect \nany thing else. But I am somewhat surprised that \nthey do not take more pains to conceal their dislike of \nit, for it certainly does not look well that the church \nof God should fall out with the oracles of God. It has \nan ugly appearance, to say the least, to see the Chris- \ntian church come out against the Christian Scriptures. \n\nI wondered much, when, a few years ago, the Pope \nissued his encyclical letter, forbidding the use of the \nBible in the vulgar tongue. It certainly looks bad that \nChrist should say, \" Search the Scriptures ;\" and that \ntrie vicar of Christ should say, \" No, you shall not even \nhave them.\" It has very much the appearance of con- \ntradicting Christ: but appearances may deceive in this \ncase, as in transubstantiation. But I must do the Pope \njustice. He does not unconditionally forbid the use of \nthe Bible, but only the use of it in the vulgar tongue. \nThe Pope has no objection that a person should have \nthe Bible, provided he has it in a language which he \ndoes not understand. The English Catholic may have \n3 \n\n\n\n26 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\na French Bible, and the devout Frenchman may make \nuse of an English or Dutch Bible ; or both may have \na Latin Bible, provided they have not studied Latin. \nAn acquaintance with the Latin makes it as vulgar a \ntongue as any other. I have thought it due to the Pope \nto say thus much in his favor. Far be it from him to \nforbid the use of the Bible, except in the vulgar tongue ! \nAnother more recent faet has surprised me not a \nlittle— that a student of Maynooth College, Ireland, \nnamed O'Beirne, should have been expelled that insti- \ntution for persisting in reading the Bible ! Expulsion \nis a pretty serious thing. That must be esteemed a \nheinous crime which is supposed to justify so severe \na penalty. I cannot see any thing so criminal in read- \ning the Scriptures. I wonder if the reading of any \nother book is forbidden at Maynooth: I suspect not. \nThe authorities at Maynooth must think the Bible the \nworst book in the world. A student of that college \nmay read whatever is most offensive to purity and \npiety in the ancient classics, without any danger of \nexpulsion ; but if he reads the Bible he is dismissed \nwith dishonor! But I suppose they will say, he was \nnot expelled for reading the Scriptures, but for con- \ntempt of authority, in that, after being forbidden to \nread the Scriptures, he still persisted in reading them. \nThat makes a difference I must confess: still the \nyoung man : s case was a hard one. Christ told him \nnot only to read, but to search the Scriptures : the au- \nthorities of the college told him he must not. His sin \nconsisted in obeying Christ rather than the govern- \nment of the college. I think it might have been set \ndown as venial. They might have overlooked the fault \nof preferring Chnst's authority to theirs. (; When the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 27 \n\nSon of man shall come in his glory,\" I don't believe \nhe will expel the young man for what he did, though \nthe college bade him \" depart.\" \n\nI wonder, and have always wondered, that the Ca- \ntholics, in prohibiting the Scriptures, do not except St. \nPeter's Epistles. Was ever any Catholic forbidden to \nread the letters of a Pope ? I believe not. But if good \nCatholics may, and should read the \" Encyclical Let- \nters \" of the Popes, why not let them read the \" Gene- \nral Epistles \" of the first of Popes, Peter ? Why is it \nany more criminal to read the letters of Pope Peter, \nthan those of Pope Gregory ? I cannot explain this. \n\nHere is another fact that has surprised me. A reoent \nGalway newspaper denounces, by name, two Protest- \nant clergymen as reptiles, and advises that they should \nbe at once trampled on. What for % Why, for the sin \nof holding a Bible meeting, and distributing the Scrip- \ntures ! It speaks of them as a hell-inspired junto of \nincarnate fiends, and says, \" If the devil himself came \nupon earth, he would assume no other garb than that \nof one of these biblicals.\" The Irish editor adds, \" The \nbiblical junto must be put down in Galway.\" He is \nevidently in a passion with the Bible : I suppose it \nmust be because it prophecies no good of him. Cer- \ntainly he cannot think the Bible very favorable to his \nreligion, otherwise he would not proclaim such a cru- \nsade against its distribution. It is the first time I ever \nheard it asserted, that the managers and members of \nBible Societies are ipso facto incarnate fiends. It \nseems singular, that those who promote the circulation \nof a heaven-inspired volume, should be themselves, \nas a matter of course, hell-inspired. I cannot think \nthat Exeter Hall and Chatham-street Chapel become \n\n\n\n23 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nPandemoniums whenever the Bible Society meets in \nthem. Nor shall I believe that Satan is going to turn \nBible distributer, until I actually see him \" walking \nabout \" on this agency. \n\nI do not know how it is, but I cannot help looking \non the circulation of the Scriptures as a benevolent \nbusiness — the gratuitous giving of the word of God \nto the children of men as a good work. When re- \ncently I read an article stating that the Young Men's \nNew-York Bible Society had undertaken to supply the \nemigrants arriving at that port with the Bible in their \nrespective languages, I almost instinctively pronounc- \ned it a good work ; and I was astonished, as well as \ngrieved, to find that some of the emigrants refused to \nreceive the volume. I suppose that if the agent had \noffered them a volume of the Spectator, or a novel, \nthey would have taken that. Any book of man they \ncould have thankfully received ; but the book of God \nthey had been instructed to refuse, should that be of- \nfered them! The agent reports the following fact: \n\" June 17, visited on their landing a large number of \nemigrants from Ireland, not one of whom could be \nprevailed on to receive a Bible, even as a gift. One of \nthe females told me,' if I would give her one she \nwould take it with her and burn it.\" Who, do you sup- \npose, put them up to refuse the Bible ? And who put \nit into the head of the woman to speak of burning the \nBible ? I think any person, in whatever part of the \ncountry born, could guess. I guess it was not any \ninfidel — I guess it was a priest. \n\nBut perhaps the reason they refused the Bibles of- \nfered them, was, that they had other and better Bibles. \nThat is not pretended. They had none. Now, it seems \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 29 \n\nto me they might have accepted our Bibles until they \ncould procure their own better Bibles. An imperfectly \ntranslated Bible is better than none : no translation of \nthe Bible was ever so bad as to be worse than no Bi- \nble. What if the Doday is before all other Bibles, \nyet king James' may answer one's turn until he can \nget the Douay. The Catholics complain that we give \ntheir people an erroneously translated Bible: why, \nthen, do they not supply them with a correct transla- \ntion ? When they undertake that, we will cease to \ntrouble them. We would be very glad to see every \nCatholic family possessing, and capable of reading, \nthe Douay Bible, although it does make repentance to- \nwards God to consist in doing penance appointed by \nmen. But that they have no idea of doing. Does not \nthe Pope forbid the use of the Bible in the vulgar \ntongue ! I know many Catholics have it, but it is no \npart of their religion to have a Bible. They get their \nChristianity without the trouble of searching the \nScriptures. Indeed they would in vain search in the \nScriptures for what they call Christianity. If they \nwere not perfectly conscious that their religion is not \nto be found in the Bible, do you suppose they would \ndenounce and persecute that book as they do ? Would \nthey direct their inquiries to fathers, and councils, and \npriests for information, rather than to prophets, evan- \ngelists, and apostles? \n\n\n\n30 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n8. Something for the Rev. Mr. H. ' \n\nMr. H. the Goliath of the Catholics, seems to be \nvery fond of asking questions which he thinks no- \nbody can answer. I am not acquainted with any wri- \nter who makes more frequent use of the interrogation \npoint. But his questions are not quite so unanswera- \nble as he supposes. I will just answer two of the string \nof questions with which he commences a recent letter \nto Mr. B. and then I beg leave to ask a few. \n\nHe wants to know first, what the Protestant reli- \ngion is. He has been often told, but I will tell him \nagain. It is the religion of the Bible. It was not \ncalled Protestant when the Bible was written, for \nthen there was no corruption of Christianity to pro- \ntest against. But it is the same, however called. \nThere it is, in the Bible. Read it. Read any part \nof it. You cannot go amiss to find the religion of the \nReformation in the Bible. Read particularly the \nepistle to the Romans, to whom Catholics pretend to \nrefer their origin ; or the epistle to the Ephesians. I \nwonder if a passage from either of these prominent \nepistles was ever quoted by any one in proof of any \npeculiarity of the Roman Catholic church ! I suspect \nnever. Protestants, however, make great use of them. \n\nBut, says the interrogator, \" tell us what particular \ndoctrines constitute the Protestant religion. Telling \nus it is the religion of the Bible, is telling us where it \nis, but not what it is.\" And is it not enough to tell \nyou where you may find a thing? Have you no eyes? \nHave you no mind? Do you want one to think for \nyou ? Is not that all which Jesus Christ did ? He gave \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 31 \n\nthe Scriptures to the Jews, and said, \" search them.\" \nSo we put the Bible into your hand, and say, there is \nour religion. And yet you ask, \" Where was your re- \nligion before Luther ?\" Before Luther ! we tell you \nwhere it was before the earliest fathers. It was in \nthe Gospels and Epistles, where it is now, and ever \nwill be. What have we to do with Luther or Augus- \ntine, or any of them, until we get as far back into an- \ntiquity as St. John? \n\nBut Mr. H. asks again, \" What society of Chris- \ntians ever taught this pretended religion of Christ pre- \nvious to the Reformation ?\" Why, Mr. H. do not affect \nsuch ignorance — you must be joking, when you ask \nsuch a question. Did you never hear of a society of \nChristians residing at Rome, some of whom were of \nCaesar's household, to whom one Paul wrote a letter, \nwhich has come down to us ? Now, if it cannot be as- \ncertained what that society of Christians \" taught,\" \nyet it can easily be ascertained what was taught \nthem. It is only to read the letter. And I think it \nnot improbable that that society of Christians profess- \ned and taught what St. Paul taught them. \n\nBut there was another respectable society of Chris- \ntians, a good while \" previous to the Reformation,\" \nwho seem to have known something about this \" pre- \ntended religion of Christ,\" called Protestant. They \ndwelt in a city named Ephesus. That same Paul \nresided among them three years, preaching the Gos- \npel, and he did it faithfully. He \" shunned no' to \ndeclare all the counsel of God.\" After establishing \na flourishing church there, he went away, and subse- \nquently addressed an epistle to them, which also has \ncome down to us. In this epistle it is to be presumed \n\n\n\n32 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthat he embodied the substance of the Gospel, which \nhe had taught them \"publicly and from house to \nhouse.\" He is not to be suspected of preaching one \nthing and writing another. Will Mr. H. deny that \nthe society of Christians at Ephesus professed and \ntaught the doctrines of the epistle to the Ephesians 1 \nI think not. Well, sir, what are the doctrines of that \nepistle ? Are they yours or ours — Catholic or Protes- \ntant 1 I will leave it to any intelligent infidel on earth \nto decide. Will Mr. H. agree to the reference ? O \nno, he wants us to leave it to a pope, and general coun- \ncil, and the unanimous fathers. \n\nI have told Mr. H. now of two societies of Chris- \ntians who \" taught this pretended religion of Christ \nprevious to the Reformation.\" I could tell of more ; \nbut two are enough. He only asked for one. \n\nNow I would ask Mr. H. a question. Where was \nyour religion, Mr. H. at the time the Bible was writ- \nten 1 I am curious to know. How came the evange- \nlists and apostles to know nothing about it, if it is \nreally the religion of Christ 1 Perhaps Mr. H. can \nclear up this difficulty. I wish he would, if he can. \nI do not want him to say where his religion was after \nthe Bible was written, and after all the evangelists \nand apostles were dead. I am informed on that point. \nI want to know where the Roman Catholic religion \nwas before those good men died ; where it was before \nthe fathers. \n\nTney talk about the antiquity of the Roman Ca- \ntholic religion. It is old, I must confess. It bears \nmany marks of age upon it. But the difficulty is, it \nis not old enough by a century or two at least. They \nsay it is the f.rst form of Christianity. That is a \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 33 \n\nmistake. It is the second. The first appeared for a \nwhile, then \" fled into the wilderness, where she had \na place prepared of God,\" and re-appeared at the Re- \nformation. They call it a new religion. But no, it \nis the old restored. If any one doubts the identity of \nthe restored religion, let him but compare its features \nwith that which appeared and flourished in the apos- \ntolic age. \n\nAnother question I beg leave to ask Mr. H. \" Did \nthe first Christians of Rome hold the doctrines con- \ntained in the epistle to the Romans, or did they not ?\" \nIf they did not, they must have departed from the faith \nsooner than Paul predicted that they would. If they \ndid hold the doctrines of the epistle, then, since these \nare the very doctrines which the friends of the Refor- \nmation contend for, have we not here the example of \na society holding the doctrines of the Reformation \nlong before the actual era of the Reformation ? I have \nother questions to ask, but I wait for these to be an- \nswered. \n\n\n\n9. The Distinction of Sins into Mortal and Venial. \n\nMr. Editor, — I was not aware, until recently, that \nRoman Catholics of this age, and in this country, make \nthat practical use which I find they do of the distinc- \ntion of sins into mortal and venial. For the truth of \nthe following narrative I can vouch. An intelligent \ngentleman being, a few weeks since, expostulated \nwith by a Protestant lady, on his spending the whole \nof a certain Sabbath in playing cards, replied with \n\n\n\n34 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe utmost readiness, and with every appearance of \nconfidence in the validity of his apology, \" O, that is \nnot a mortal sin.\" Several similar examples of a \nresort to this distinction were reported to me. Now, \ncan that system be the religion of Jesus Christ, which \nrecognizes this horrible distinction, and puts such a \nplea as this into the mouth of a transgressor of one ot \nthe commandments of that Decalogue which God's \nown voice articulated and his own finger wrote? I \ncannot express the feelings I have, when I think of \nthe multitudes who are forming a character for eterni- \nty under the influence of doctrines like these. What \nsort of a character must they form ! \n\nHow completely at variance with the Scriptures is \nthis distinction ! \" Cursed is every one that continu- \ned} not in all things which are written in the book of \nthe law to do them — the wages of sin is death — the \nsoul that sinneth, it shall die.\" Gal. 3 : 10 ; Rom. 6 : \n23 ; Ezek. 18 : 4. Is not all sin disobedience to God ? \nand may he be disobeyed in any respect without guilt 1 \nDid ever a father of a family recognize such a distinc- \ntion in the government of his children ? Did Christ \natone for what are called venial sins, or did he not ? \nIf he did not, then he did not atone for all sin. If he \ndid atone for them, they must be worthy of death, since \nhe died for them. \n\nThe truth is, all sin is mortal, if not repented of ; \nand all sin is venial, that is, pardonable, if repented of. \nThere is no sin which the blood of Christ cannot cleanse \nfrom. And nothing but that can take out any sin. \n\nIt is not worth while to reason against such a dis \ntinction. I only mention it as one of the absurd and \npernicious errors of the system to which it beiongs. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 35 \n\n\n\n10. The Deadly Sins. \n\nIn \"the Christian's Guide to Heaven\" I read with \nsome interest an enumeration of what the Catholics \nare pleased to call \" the seven deadly sins.\" Why \nthis distinction, thought I ? Are there only seven sins ? \nOr are only some sins deadly ; and is the number of \nsins that kill ascertained by the infallible church to be \njust seven and no more, all other sins being venial, \nnot mortal, according to another distinction which that \nchurch presumes to make ? \n\nThey cannot mean that there are only seven sins, \nfor heresy is not in this list of sins, and that I am sure \nthey esteem a sin ; neither is there any mention of \nfalsehood and deception, which we Protestants regard \nas sins, even though their object should be pious. Be- \nsides, David says that his iniquities were more than \nthe hairs of his head — consequently many more than \nseven. And who is any better off than David in this \nrespect? Moreover, even the Catholics admit nine \ncommandments. They do not leave out any but the \nsecond. They must therefore admit the possibility of \nat least nine sins. \n\nThey must mean that there are only seven sins \nwhich are mortal to the soul. But if this be the case, \nwhy is it said, \" Cursed is every one that continueth \nnot in all things written in the book of the law to do \nthem?\" It is admitted that there are more than seven \nthings written in the book of the law. Again, why is \nit said that the wages of sin is death ? This would \nseem to imply that death is due to every sin, of what- \never kind. If there are only seven deadly sins, why \n\n\n\n36 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndoes not the apostle say, \" The wages of these seven \nsins (enumerating them) is death?\" But he does not \nsay that. He regarded all sins as deadly — every one \nof the multitude as mortal in its consequences. \n\nIf there are only seven sins which are deadly, then \n1 suppose we can answer for all the rest ; but Job says \nhe cannot answer him one of a thousand. According \nto Job, then, who is a very ancient authority, there are \nat least a thousand sins for which we cannot answer. \n\nBut let us hear what the seven are. They are Pride> \nCovetousness, Luxury or Lust, Anger, Gluttony, En- \nvy, Sloth. Well, these are, to be sure, sins, all but one \nof them, anger, which is not necessarily a sin any \nmore than grief is. We are directed to \" be angry and \nsin not.\" I wonder they should have put anger with- \nout any qualification among the seven deadly sins. It \nmust be because they are not familiar with the Scrip- \ntures. But granting them all to be sins, then certainly \nthey are deadly, since all sin is deadly. We could not \ntherefore object, if it had been said, in reference to \nthem, \" seven deadly sins.\" But \" the seven deadly \nsins \" seems to imply that there are no more. We read \nin the book of Proverbs of six things which the Lord \ndoth hate ; yea, of seven that are an abomination to \nhim. But there is no implication there, that those are \nthe only things which the Lord hates. It is not said, \n\"the seven things which the Lord doth hate.\" The \nlanguage which I animadvert upon implies that the \nseven sins enumerated are, if not exclusively, yet pe- \nculiarly deadly. Now that is not the case. There is \nnothing in those sins to entitle them to this distinction \nabove other sins. There is no reason why we should \nbe warned to avoid them more than many others. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n37 \n\n\n\n1 am surprised that in the list of deadly sins theie \nis no mention of unbelief. Now surely that must be \na deadly sin, when \" he that believeth not shall be \ndamned— shall not see life, but the wrath of God \nabideth on him.\" Moreover, we are told that the Holy \nGhost came primarily to reprove the world of unbe- \nlief—and yet there is no recognition of it among the \ndeadly sins ! It is an oversight, which no wonder they \nfell into, who, in making out their religion, made no \nuse of the word of God. \n\nI perceive that neither heresy nor schism are in the \nlist of deadly sins. I infer, then, that to differ from the \nRoman church in some particulars, and even to sepa- \nrate from her communion, is not fatal, even she her- \nself being judge. I thank her for the admission. \n\nThere is one sin which, in all their catalogues, the \nCatholics omit, and which, I think, they need to be re- \nminded of. It is the sin of idolatry— oi worshiping \nthe creature— of paying divine honors to something \nelse besides God. It used to be very deadly, under the \nJewish dispensation. It doubtless is equally so under \nthe Christian. They had better beware of it. They \nhad better leave off praying to saints, and honoring the \nVirgin Mary above her Son, lest perchance they fall \ninto deadly sin- \n\n\n\n11. A Religion without a Holy Spirit. \n\nA gentleman of intelligence, who was born of Ca- \ntholic parents, and educated in the Catholic church, \n4 \n\n\n\n38 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nbut left it recently for Protestantism (for some do \nleave the Catholic for the Protestant church— the \nconversions are not all to Romanism — but we, Pro- \ntestants, don't make such a noise about it when we \nreceive a convert ; and I suppose the reason is, that it \nis really no wonder that a Catholic should become a \nProtestant — the only wonder is, that any should re- \nmain Catholics) — this gentleman said to his brother, \nwho is still a Catholic, \" Why, brother, as long as I \nwas a Catholic, I never knew that there was a Holy \nSpirit.\" \n\nAnd what do you think was the brother's reply ? \n\" Well, I don't know that there is one now !\" \n\nThe narration of what passed between these two \nmen struck me with great force. A religion without \na Holy Spirit ! and this the religion, according to the \ncomputation of Bishop England, of two hundred mil- \nlions of mankind ! It made me sorry. My religion, \nthought I, would be very imperfect without a Holy- \nSpirit. I want a Sanctifier. as well as a Surety. I \nwant one to act internally upon me, as well as one to \nact externally for me. What should I do with my \ntitle to hea\\en. without a fitness for it? As a sinner, \nI am equally destitute of both. There can be no hea- \nven without holiness. And whence has any man ho- \nliness but from the Holy Spirit? And is it likely he \nwill act where he is not acknowledged ? If priests \ncan pardon, as they say, yet can they purify ? \n\nHere were two men, educated in the Catholic reli- \ngion, and attending weekly the Catholic church, and \nyet never having heard of the Holy Spirit ! They had \nheard often enough of the Virgin Mary, and of this \nsaint, and that saint, but never a word of the Holv \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 39 \n\nSpirit, the Divine Sanctifier ! But was it not their \nown fault? Is not the doctrine of the Trinity a part \nof the Catholic faith ? It is — but that may be, and yet \nthe priests never instruct the people in the character \nand office of the Holy Spirit, and in the necessity of \nhis operations. \n\nBut had these men never been present at a baptism, \nwhen water, according to Christ's direction, with oil, \nspittle, &c. as the church directs, is applied to the \nbody, and the name of each person of the Trinity is \nmentioned ? Yes, but, poor men, they had never stu- \ndied Latin. How should they know what Spiritus \nSanctus means, when they hear it ? Why should all \nthe world be presumed to understand Latin? Oh, \nwhy should the worship of the living God be con- \nducted in a dead language 1 But this is by the way. \n\nThese men knew not that there was a Holy Spi- \nrit — why did they not know it ? I will tell you. Be- \ncause so little is said of the Holy Spirit among the \nCatholics — there is so little need of any such agent, \naccording to their system ! They do not believe in the \nnecessity of a change of heart. Why should there be \na Holy Spirit? The priest does not want any such \nhelp to prepare a soul for heaven. The Catholic sys- \ntem is complete without a Holy Spirit. Therefore \nnothing is said of him in the pulpit, ard in the con- \nfession-box; and the sinner is not directed to seek his \ninfluences, or to rely on his aid. If I misrepresent, let \nit be shown, and I will retract. But if I am correct in \nthe statement I make, look at it. Protestant, look at \n\nit a religion without a Holy Spirit ! Catholic, look \n\nat it, and obey the voice from heaven which says. \n\"Come out of her my people, that ye be not partakers \n\n\n\n40 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof her sins, and that ye receive not of- her plagues.\" \nThis is one of her capital crimes. She does not \nspeak against the Holy Ghost. No, she is silent \nabout him ! \n\n\n\n12. Infallibility. \n\n\n\nEvery body knows that the Church of Rome lays \nclaim to infallibility. She contends that there is no \nmistake about her ; that she cannot err. Now this very \nmodest claim of our sister of Rome (for in the matter \nof churches I reject the relation of mother and daugh- \nter) I am constrained to question, and that for such \nreasons as the following : \n\n1. She cannot herself tell us where her infallibility \nis to be found. She is sure that she has it somewhere \nabout her, but for the life of her she cannot tell where. \nSome of her writers say that it is with the Pope. Others \ncontend that it resides in a general council. And ano- \nther opinion is that both the Pope and a council are \nnecessary to it. Now I think they ought to settle it \namong themselves who is infallible, before they re- \nquire us to believe that any one is. Let them find in- \nfallibility and fix it. After that it will be time enough \nfor us to admit its existence. But, \n\n2. We will suppose that it is the Pope who is infal- \nlible — each successive Pope. Well, where did they \nget their infallibility ? Why, it was transmitted from \nSt. Peter, to be sure. Christ gave it to him, and he \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 41 \n\nhanded it down. But was Peter infallible? There was \na day when I suspect he did not think himself infal- \nlible — when smitten to the heart by the reproving look \nof his Lord, he went out and wept bitterly. There is \nno doubt that he made a mistake, when he so confi- \ndently pronounced, \" Though I should die with thee, \nyet will I not deny thee\" — and let it be remembered \nthat this was after Christ had said, \" Thou art Peter, \nand on this rock,\" &c. \n\nIf Peter was infallible, I wonder he did not at once \nsettle the difficulty of which we have an account in \nActs, 15. Why was the matter suffered to be debated \nin the presence of his infallibility 1 It seems that Pe- \nter on that occasion claimed no pre-eminence. Nor \nwas any particular deference paid to him by the coun- \ncil. He related his experience, precisely as did Paul \nand Barnabas. James seems to have been in the chair \non that occasion. He speaks much more like an infal- \nlible person than any of the rest. He says, \" Where- \nfore my sentence is,\" &c. What a pity it is for the \nchurch of Rome that Peter had not said that instead \nof James. We should never have heard the last of it. \nBut it was the bishop of Jerusalem, and not the bishop \nof Rome, who said it. It cannot be helped now. Will \nmy Catholic brother take down his Douay and read \nthat chapter ? \n\nBut again, if Peter was infallible, I am surprised \nthat Paul \" withstood him to the face, because he was \nto be blamed.\" Gal. 2 : 11. That was no way to treat \na Pope. But Paul had always a spice of the Protes- \ntant about him. And yet Peter did not resent Paul's \ntreatment of him, for in his second Epistle he speaks \nof him as \" our beloved brother Paul.\" I suppose that \n4* \n\n\n\n42 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nPeter himself did not know he was infallible. Men \ndo not always know themselves. \n\nOnce more, if the superiority among the disciples \nbelonged to Peter, it has struck me as strange that, \nwhen a dispute arose among them who should be the \ngreatest, our Savior did not take Peter, instead of a \nlittle child, \" and set him in the midst of them,\" \nand remind the others that the supremacy had been \ngiven to him. I think the other apostles could not \nhave understood Christ in that declaration, \" Thou art \nPeter,\" &c. as the church of Rome now understands \nhim, otherwise the dispute about superiority could \nnever have arisen. \n\nNow, according to the Catholic doctrine, Peter be- \ning infallible, each successive Pope inherits his infal- \nlibility, and therefore never a man of them could err \nin a matter of faith — nor even the woman Joan, (for in \nthe long list of Papas, there was by accident in the \nninth century one Mama, though this, I am aware, is \ndenied by some,) — even she retained none of the frail- \nty of her sex. \n\nIt is well for the church of Rome that she does not \ncontend that her popes are infallible in practice, for \nif she did, she would find some difficulty in reconciling \nthat doctrine with history. It is very true that one may \nerr in practice and not in faith. Nevertheless, when I \nsee a man very crooked in practice, I cannot believe \nthat he is always exactly straight in doctrine. I can- \nnot believe that all I hear from him is good and true, \nwhen what I see in him is false and bad. Take for \nexample such a one as Pope Alexander sixth; when \nv ie, the father of such a hopeful youth as Cesar Bor- \ngia, and the chief of ecclesiastics too, tells me, with a \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 43 \n\ngrave air and solemn tone, that it is a shocking wicked \nthing for an ecclesiastic to marry, I cannot help de- \nmurring somewhat to the statement of Cesar's father. \nBut I must proceed with my reasons. \n\n3. If a man says one thing one day, and the next \nday says another thing quite contrary to it, I am of \nopinion that he is one of the days in error. But what \nhas this to do with the business in hand? Have not \nthe Popes always pronounced the same thing? Have \nthey ever contradicted each other? Ask rather, whe- \nther the wind has always, ever since there was a wind, \nblown from the same quarter. Nowhere is a reason \nwhy I cannot allow infallibility to belong to either \npopes or councils. \n\n4. I would ask just for information, how it was, \nwhen there were three contemporary Popes, each \nclaiming infallibility. Had they it between them ? or \nwhich of them had it ? What was the name of the one \nthat there was no mistake about? How were the \ncommon people to ascertain the infallible one? for \nyou know their salvation depended on their being in \ncommunion with the true Bishop of Rome, the right- \nful successor of St. Peter. \n\n5. The more common opinion among the Catholics \nis, I believe, that the infallibility resides in a Pope and \ngeneral council together. Each is fallible by itself, but \nputting the two together, they are infallible ! Now I \nadmit that in some languages two negatives are equi- \nvalent to an affirmative ; but I do not believe that two \nfallibles ever were or will be equivalent to an infalli- \nble. It is like saying that two wrongs make a right \n\n\n\n44 THOUGHTS ON POPERY \n\n\n\n13. Tlie Keys. \n\nThe Catholics, by which I mean Boman Catholics, \nsince, though a Protestant, I believe in the holy Ca- \ntholic, that is, universal church, and profess to be a \nmember of it, at the same time that I waive all pre- \ntensions to being a Roman Catholic. — they make a \ngreat noise about the keys having been given to Peter ; \nthe keys of the kingdom of heaven. Well, it is true \nenough — they were given to him. The Bible says so, \nand we Protestants want no better authority than the \nBible for any thing. We do not require the confirma- \ntion of tradition, and the unanimous consent of the fa- \nthers. We do not want any thing to back \" Thus saith \nthe Lord.\" Yes, the keys were given to Peter ; it is \nsaid so in Matthew, 16 : 19. This is one of those pas- \nsages of Scripture which is not hard to be understood, \nas even they of Rome acknowledge. I am glad our \nbrethren of that communion agree with us that there \nis something plain in the Bible ; that there is one pas- \nsage, at least, in which private interpretation arrives \nat the same result which they reach who follow in the \ntrack of the agreeing fathers ! I suppose, if we could \ninterpret all Scripture as much to the mind of the Ca- \ntholics as we do this, they would let us alone about \nprivate interpretation. \n\nWell, Peter has got the keys. What then ? What \nare keys for? To unlock and open is one of the pur- \nposes served by keys. It was for this purpose, I sup- \npose, that Peter received them : and for this purpose \nwe find him using them. He opened the kingdom of \nheaven, that is, the Gospel Church, or Christian dis- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 45 \n\npensation, as the phrase \" kingdom of heaven \" often \nsignifies. He opened it to both Jews and Gentiles : \nhe preached the first sermon, and was the instrument \nof making the first converts among each. With one \nkey he opened the kingdom of heaven to the Jews, and \nwith the other to tfie Gentiles. This was a distinction \nconferred on Peter, it is true : but it was necessary \nthat some one of the twelve should begin the business \nof preaching the Gospel. The whole twelve could \nnot turn ihe keys and open the door. The power of \nbinding and loosing, which was conferred on Peter \nwhen the keys were given him, was not confined to \nhim, but, as Matthew testifies in the next chapter but \none, was extended to all the disciples. \n\nWell, Peter opened the kingdom of heaven ; and \nwhat became of the keys then ? Why, there being no \nfarther use for them, they were laid aside. I don't \nknow what has become of them, for my part. When \na key has opened a door which is not to be shut again, \nthere being no more use for the key, it does not matter \nmuch what becomes of it. Hence, in the history oi \nthe Acts of the Apostles, we hear no more about the \nkeys ; and Peter, in his Epistles, says never a word \nabout them. He wrote his second Epistle to put Chris- \ntians in remembrance, but I don't find him reminding \nthem of the keys. The truth is, having used them for \nthe purpose for which they were given him, he had \nafter that no more concern about them. \n\nBut mar./ fancy that Peter kept these keys all his \nlife, and th m transmitted them to another, and he to \na third, and so from hand to hand they have come \nalong down till what's his name at Rome has them \nno w — the Pope. And they say these keys signify the \n\n\n\n48 THOUCIITS ON POPERY. \n\nauthority given to the church, and especially to the \nPopes. But I find no Bible warrant for this assertion. \nChrist does not say that he gave the keys to Peter to \ngive to somebody else, and Peter does not say that he \ngave them to any body else, and no body since Peter \nhas been able to produce the keys. This settles \nthe matter in my mind. I want to know where the \nkeys are. \n\nBut some suppose that Peter took them to heaven \nwith him, and that he stands with them at the gate of \nheaven, as porter, to admit and keep out whom he \nwill. But this notion does not tally very well with \ncertain passages of Scripture. Christ tells his disci- \nples that he goes to prepare a place for them, and that \nhe will come again and receive them unto himself: \nJohn, 14 : 3. He will do it. He will not trust the bu- \nsiness to Peter. \" He that hath the key of David, he \nthat openeth and no man shutteth, and shutteth, and \nno man openeth, is not Peter, but Christ.\" Rev. 3 : 7. \n\nBut the Catholics will have it that Peter is the one; \nand he, having the keys, they think that they will ail \nbe admitted, while never a soul of us, poor Protes- \ntants, will. They may be mistaken, however. I do \nnot know what right they have to put in an exclusive \nclaim to Peter. I see no resemblance between Peter \nand a Roman Catholic — none in the world. I never \ncare to see a truer and better Protestant than I take \nhim to be. But if he does stand at the gate of heaven \nwith such authority as the Catholics ascribe to him, \nyet I suppose he will not deny that he wrote the \nEpistles called his. Well, then, if he shall hesitate \nto admit Protestants, we shall only have to remind him \nof his Epistles. He does not say any thing in them \n\n\n\nTII0UGIIT3 ON POPERY. 47 \n\nabout his being Pope. No, he says, \" The elders which \nare among you I exhort, who am also an elder.\" Not \na word says he about the Mass, or the Seven Sacra- \nments, or Transubstantiation. Let the reader turn to \nhis Epistles, and see just what he does say; I think \nlie will not find any thing in those Epistles to frighten \nProtestants. \n\nBut there is still another supposition, viz. that Peter \nis not perpetual porter of heaven ; but each Pope, as \nhe dies, succeeds to that office— one relieving another. \nI do not know how it is, but I judge, if all the Popes \nhave been in their day porters of Paradise, many of \nthem must have tended outside. They have not been \nuniversally the best of men, I think history informs \nus. But I will not mention any names. \n\nOne thing more. In Catholic pictures and prints \n(for that very spiritual religion abounds with these) \nyou will see the keys of which we have been speak- \ning represented as made to suit all the complicated \nmodern wards, as if fresh from some manufactory at \nBirmingham or Sheffield ! I do not suppose the keys \nPeter received answered exactly to this ingenious re- \npresentation of them. \n\n\n\n14. The Head of the Church. \n\nThe church is represented in the Scriptures as a \nbody. Of course, therefore, it must have a head; and \nthat same blessed book tells us who the head is. And \n\n\n\n48 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwho, think you, is the head of the church ? Who but \nChrist himself? Who else is fit to be its head—its \nsource of influence and government ? I will produce \nthe passages of Scripture in proof of Christ's headship \npresently. \n\nBut the Catholics say that the Pope is the head oi \nthe church. Ah, is he 1 Where is the proof that he is? \nNow there is nothing which irritates a Catholic so \nsoon as to ask him for proof. \" Proof, indeed I\" he \nsays. \"Do you ask proof of an infallible church? \nWhat is the use of infallibility, if we must prove every \nthing? These are truly most degenerate days. The \ntime was when nobody demanded proof; but now \nevery little sprig of a Protestant must have reasons to \nsupport assertions. He calls for proof. And he must \nhave it from the Bible. He will not believe any thing \nin religion unless some text can be cited in support of \nit. Things have come to a pretty pass indeed.\" It is \neven so. We plead guilty to the charge. For every \nthing alleged to be a doctrine of Christianity, we con- \nfess we do require some proof out of the Avritings of \nsome evangelist or apostle. And since our Catholic \nbrethren will not gratify us by adducing the scriptural \nwarrant for believing the Pope or Bishop of Rome to \nbe the head of the church, we will do them the favor \nof consulting the Scriptures for them. Well, we begin \nwith Genesis, and we go through to Revelation, search- \ning all the way for some proof that the Pope is the \nhead of the church. But so far are we from finding \nany evidence that he is the head of the church, that we \nfind not a particle of proof that he is that or any thing. \nWe find no account of any such character as a Pope- \nnot a word about him. The subject of the proposition, \n\n\n\n/ \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POFERY. 49 \n\nthat is, the Pope, does not seem to be known to that \nbook at all. I really do not wonder that it frets a Ca- \ntholic when we send him to the Bible for proof that \nthe Pope is the head of the church. \n\nBut though we discover nothing in the Bible about \na Pope, yet we find much about the head of the church. \nIn Ephesians, 1 : 22, 23, Christ is said to be \" the head \nover all things to the church, which is his body.\" Now, \nif the church is his body, surely he must be the head \nof it, as well as head over all things to it. Will any \none say that the Pope of Rome is the head of Christ's \nbody? That is shocking. And yet the Catholics are \ntold that they must believe it ; and seeing they cannot \nhelp it, they do somehow or other contrive to believe \nit. In Eph. 5 : 23, it is explicitly declared that \" Christ \nis the head of the church.\" The same is repeated in \nCol. 1 : 18—\" He (Christ) is the head of the body, \nthe church.\" \n\nOur brethren of the Catholic church have long been \nin the habit of asking where our religion was before \nthe Reformation. They may see where one doctrine of \nit was fifteen hundred years before the Reformation. \nOne would suppose, from the way they talk, that they \nsupposed the Bible was written a considerable time \nafter the Reformation, and that it was then got up to \nsupport the Protestant heresy ! I might ask them, but \nthat they do not like to be asked questions, lest they \nshould not be able to answer them, where their doc- \ntrine of the Pope's headship of the church was when \nthe New Testament was written, i. e. some seventeen \nhundred and fifty or eighteen hundred years ago. But \nI will withdraw the question. It may seem unkind to \npress it, \n\n5 \n\n\n\n50 THOUGHTS ON POFEBY. \n\nNow, since the Bible says that Christ is the head of \nthe church, if the Pope also is, there must be two \nheads of the church. But there is only one body. Why \nshould there be two heads ? Is the church a monster? \nBesides, if there had been another head, Christ would \nhave been spoken of in the Scriptures as one of the \nheads of the church, or as a head of the church. But \nhe is called the head of the church. The article is de- \nfinite, denoting only one. There is not a syllable in \nthe Bible about another head. Indeed the language of \nthe Bible does not admit of there being another. Yet \nthe Catholics say there is another ; and it is their Pope. \n\" Christ being absent, they say, it is necessary there \nshould be a visible human head to represent him on \nearth.\" Now the Pope, they say, is this visible head \nof the church — the head that you can see. But is their \nassumption correct, that Christ is absent ? Is he ab- \nsent ? Hear : \" Lo, I am with you alway, even unto \nthe end of the world,\" \" Where two or three are ga- \nthered together in my name, there am I in the midst \nof them.\" Was he absent from Paul ? He says : \" I \ncan do all things through Christ which strengtheneth \nme.\" A visible head ! What do we want of a visible \nhead ? Of what use to us — the part of the body here — \nis a head a way off at Rome ? It is no better than a \ncaput mortuum to us. \n\nBut what if we admit the possibility of a visible \nhuman head of the church, who made the Pope that \nhead ? Did he inherit this also from St. Peter? Was \nPeter head of the church ? He, more modest than his \npretended successors, does not any where claim that \ntitle. I know the Catholics hold him to be the rock — \nthe foundation of the church; but I really did not know \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 51 \n\nthat they regarded him, whom, however they exalt, \nthey still consider but as a mere man, as capable of \nbeing head of the church too. It is not too much to \nspeak of Christ as both the foundation and head of \nthe church, but to speak of Peter, poor Peter, as we \nare accustomed to call him when we think of the \nscene of the denial, as both foundation and head of the \nchurch, is really carrying the matter rather far. How \nlittle Peter thought he was both, when \" he went out \nand wept bitterly !\" How little he knew of himself! \nThe Pope the head of the church ! ! Then the church \nis the Pope's body ! ! Alas for the church ! \n\n\n\n15. The Power to Forgive Sins. \n\nSeculum modestum I rather suppose will not be the \ndesignation by which the 19th century will be distin- \nguished in history from her sister centuries. I know \nnot whether any age has been more remarkable for \ncases of unfounded pretension than the present. The \ncase, however, of which I am to take notice, did not \noriginate in the 19th century. It has existed many \nhundred years. I do not wonder at its surviving the \ndark ages, but that it should have lived so far into the \nluminous 19th does somewhat surprise me. The pre- \ntension to which I allude is that made by the Catholic \npriesthood. What do you think it is which they pre- \ntend they can do? Forgive sins. They pretend that \nthey have power over sins, to remit or retain them. \n\n\n\n52 \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\nThey claim that the prerogative of pardon is lodged \nwith them. And that is the reason why they receive \nconfessions. Confession to a priest would be a farce, \nif it was not thought that he could forgive. \n\nThe first thing that strikes me is the contrariety of \nthis notion to common sense. The idea of being par- \ndoned by any other than the being offended, seems \nabsurd. What ! a fellow-sinner of a priest pardon \nsins against God ! It is as if of two debtors, one should \nplay the creditor and forgive the other his debt, with- \nout any consultation with the real creditor. That \nwould be a strange way of getting rid of debts. I al- \nways thought he to whom the debt is due ought to \nhave a say in the matter of remitting it. If I had \ndisposed of a debt in that manner I should always be \nafraid that it would some day or other be exacted — \nthat the real creditor would appear and make his de- \nmand. Then it would be a poor come off for me to \nsay that my fellow-debtor forgave me the debt. I will \ntell you what I expect. I expect that a great deal \nwhich the priests forgive will be exacted notwith- \nstanding. Catholics talk of going to the priest and \ngetting their old scores wiped off, just as if it were \nbut a slate and pencil memorandum, which any one \ncan rub out. The sin of man is not thus recorded. It \nis \"written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a \ndiamond.\" It is not so easily obliterated. \n\nBut is there not Scripture in support of the priests' \nclaim? See John, 20 : 23. Does not Christ say to his \ndisciples: \"Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are re- \nmitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, \nthey are retained?\" Yes, he says that to his disciples \n—the apostles. But pray, what right have the priests \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 53 \n\nto found a claim of theirs on a grant made to the apos- \ntles? They do indeed come after the apostles, but \nthey are their successors in no other sense. I should \nlike to know how the priests prove that they inherit \nthe apostolical power of remitting sins. But I forget \nthat they scorn a resort to proof. \n\nThe power communicated in that grant to the apos- \ntles was merely ministerial and declarative. It was \nno less true after than before that grant was made, that \nnone can forgive sins but God only. That the power \nwas declarative merely, that is, that the apostles were \nempowered to remit and retain sins only as they were \nauthorized and enabled to make a correct statement to \nmankind of the way and means of salvation, to ex- \npress the conditions of pardon and condemnation, and \nto propose the terms of life and death, is clear to me \nfrom the fact that the conferring of it was immedi- \nately preceded by the Savior's breathing on them, \nand saying, \" Receive ye the Holy Ghost.\" Now, \nthis communication of the Spirit qualified them for \nthe declarative remission and retention of sins. They \nwere thereby inspired to pronounce on what grounds \nsins are remitted and retained by God. \n\nThis was the power over sins granted to the apos- \ntles, and I shall show presently that this declarative \npower is all they pretend ever 10 have exercised. Now, \nthe priests have no right to claim even this power, ex- \ncept in that subordinate sense in which it is possessed \nby all who are authorized to preach the Gospel. Did \nChrist ever breathe on them, and say to them, \" Re- \nceive ye the Holy Ghost,\" that they should claim \nequality with the apostles? The effect of the inspi- \nration is not so manifest in the case of the priests as \n5* \n\n\n\n54 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nit was in the case of the apostles, if I may be permit- \nted to express an opinion. \n\nBut the priests claim far more than ever entered \nthe ^thoughts of the apostles. They are not satisfied \nwith the ministerial and declarative power over sins \nThey claim a magisterial and authoritative power \nto remit and retain them. Consequently they call \nsinners to come and confess their sins to them. Did \nPeter and the other apostles, the very men to whom \nChrist said, \"whosesoever sins ye remit,\" &c. ever \ndo such a thing? You read in the Acts of the Apos- \ntles of synagogues and proseuches, or places of prayer, \nbut do you find any thing about confession-boxes there? \nDoes there seem to have been any thing auricular in \nthe transactions of the day of Pentecost? \n\nThere is the case of Simon Magus that strikes me \nas in point. If Peter and John had had the power of \nforgiving sin, could they not have exercised it in favor \nof Simon ? But we find Peter addressing him just as \nany Protestant minister would have done: \"Repent \ntherefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if per- \nhaps the thought of thine heart maybe forgiven thee.\" \nHow differently the Roman priest would have done ! \nHe would have said, \" Well, Simon, and what have \nyou to say for yourself? Ah, that is very bad, very \nbad. But if you are sorry, Simon, I forgive you. Only \nI cannot let you off without doing some penance. \nYou must say so many paternosters, and you must \nnot eat meat for so many days.\" This is the way in \nwhich the boasted successors of Peter manage these \nmatters. But, they will say, Simon was not penitent, \notherwise perhaps Peter would have pardoned him. \nBut I wonder if pardon would have waited for Peter's \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 55 \n\naction in the matter, if there had been penitence in \nthe heart of the sorceror. I suspect not. I suspect \nthe gracious Lord, when he sees contrition in any \nsoul, does not withhold pardon till a priest or even an \napostle shall intervene and act in the matter. And \nwhen the good angels have ascertained that a sinner \nhas repented, I rather suppose they do not suspend \ntheir rejoicing until he has gone to confession, and \nhas got absolution from the priest. \n\nWhat a glorious book the Bible is ! I wish the au- \nthorities of the Catholic church would condescend to \nstrike it off the list of prohibited books, and allow the \nLord to speak to his creatures. I wish they would \nlet their people, the many thousands that on the Sab- \nbath crowd their chapels and cathedrals, read, or hear \nwhat Jehovah says to \" every one \" in that wonderful \nchapter, the 55th of Isaiah. It is indeed a wonderful \nchapter. But the Catholics don't know any thing \nabout it. No ; and they have never heard of that pre- \ncious and glorious verse, the 18th of the 1st chapter \nof Isaiah, in which thus saith the Lord to the sinner, \n\"Come now, and let us\" (you and I, sinner !) \"rea- \nson together.\" And then follows the reasoning, \n\"though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as \nwhite as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they \nshall be as wool.\" Ask the awakened sinner, or the \nrecently pardoned, what he would take for that pas- \nsage. He esteems it above all price ; and to the Chris- \ntian it becomes every day more and more a theme of \nwonder and delight. But the Catholics don't know \nthat the Lord has ever made any such kind and con- \ndescending proposal to his creatures. They never \nhear of the call of God to come and reason with him \n\n\n\n56 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nThe only \" come \" they hear is the priest's call. I \npity them. \n\nBut it is no wonder that the priests treat the people \nas they do, for if they allowed them to know what the \nLord says to them, they would be very apt to go di- \nrectly to God in Christ, and leave the priest out of the \nquestion. And then where would be the importance \nof the priest 1 and his emolument, where ? \n\n\n\n16. A Catholic Book Reviewed. \n\nI happened to lay my hand the other day on a little \nbook entitled, \" The Christian's Guide to Heaven, a \nManual for Catholics,\" to which was appended some \nhymns. The book was published in Baltimore by a \nrespectable Catholic bookseller, and under the sanction \nof the Archbishop. Well, said I to myself, this is good \nauthority. I will look into this book. I know what \nProtestants say of Catholics. I will see now what \nCatholics say of themselves. Men cannot complain \nwhen we take their own account of themselves ; and \nI like the way of judging people out of their own \nmouths, because it shuts their mouths so far as reply \nis concerned. I resolved that I would compare the \nstatements and doctrines of this book professing to be \na guide to heaven, with the statements and doctrines \nof that bigger book which is the Protestant's guide to \nheaven. You will know that I mean the Bible. That \nis our manual — that the guide we consult and follow. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 57 \n\nHowever, if a book agrees with the Bible, that is \nenough. \n\nSo I began to read ; and one of the first things that \nI came to was, \" Conditions of plenary indulgences.\" \nIndulgences ! thought I. What does a Christian want \nof indulgences 1 He is apt enough to indulge him- \nself. And how are indulgences to help him to hea- \nven? I should rather pronounce self-denial the road. \nIndulgences not partial, but plenary ! I should think \nplenary indulgence on any condition was enough to \nruin one. If by indulgence the Catholics mean par- \ndon, they have chosen an unfortunate way to express \nit. Why not say full pardon, instead of plenary in- \ndulgence 1 But I suppose pardon expresses what God \nexercises, and indulgence what the church grants. I \nshould like to know, however, what right the church \nhas to grant any thing of the kind. \n\nWell, the conditions enumerated were four. I took \nnote only of the first, which was in these words : \" To \nconfess their sins with a sincere repentance to a priest \napproved by the bishop.\" This begins very well, and \ngoes on well for a time. Confession of sin, with sin- \ncere repentance, is truly a condition of pardon. \" If \nwe confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive \nus our sins.\" But what a pity the condition did not \nstop there, or if any thing was added in regard to the \nobject of the confession, that it did not designate God \nas the being to whom the sins should be confessed. \nThe sins are all done against him, and why should \nthey not be told to him ? I cannot get rid of the no- \ntion that we ought to confess our sins to God, the be- \ning whom we have offended by them. But no, says \nthis guide to heaven, the confession must be made to \n\n\n\n58 THOUGHTS OX POPERY \n\na priest ; it is good for nothing without it. If the pub- \nlican, of whom we read, had lived now, it would have \nbeen quite irregular, according to the Catholic notion, \nthat he should have gone down to his house justified, \nwhen he confessed only to God. And the penitent \nmust take care what sort of a priest it is to whom he \nconfesses, else he might as well remain impenitent. \nIt must be a priest approved by the bishop. Well, \nnow, this is a queer arrangement, that our pardon \nshould be suspended on such a condition — that angels, \nin other words, m*istwaif before they express any joy \nthat a sinner has rmented, until he has gone and told \nhis sins to a priest approved by a bishop ! Who sus- \npended it there, I wonder ? Not Isaiah. Read his 55th \nchapter. Nor Peter, nor Solomon, nor John, nor Paul. \nRead them and see. There is not a word in the Bible \nabout confessing to a priest. So I found that the two \nguides did not agree in this matter. The Catholic \nManual said the confession must be to a priest ; but \nthe holy Scriptures insist on no such thing, but direct \nthat the confession be made to God. \n\nThis thought occurred to me : What if a sinner con- \nfess his sins with a sincere repentance, though not to \na priest, what is to be done with his soul ? Must par- \ndon be denied him, and he be consigned to perdition, \nbecause, though he confessed penitently, yet he did it \nnot to a priest ? Really this is making rather too much \nof the priest. It is making too important a character \nof him altogether. I do not believe that our salvation \nis so dependent on the deference we pay the priest. \n\nBefore the conditions, on one of which I have been \nremarking, are mentioned, there is this general state- \nment: \" Plenary indulgences granted to the faithful \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 59 \n\nthroughout these states, at the following times j\" and \nthen follows a specification of nine different seasons \nwhen plenary indulgences may be had. I did not know \nbefore that pardons were confined to any set times ; I \nalways supposed that they might be had summer and \nwinter, night and day, and at any hour of either — in \nshort, whenever a penitent heart breathes its desire to \nGod. My mistake must have arisen from the fact that \nI have been in the habit of consulting the Bible on \nthese matters. I never saw \" The Christian's Guide \nto Heaven \" before in my life. I have always used the \nBible as a guide, for want of a better. \n\nNow that I am on the subject of confession, I may \nas well make another reference to the manual. There \nis an article or chapter headed \" The Confiteor.\" In \nit the person wishing to be guided to heaven makes \nthis confession, from which it will appear that Catho- \nlics do not confine their confessions to the priest, but \nextend them to many other beings : \" I confess to Al- \nmighty God, to blessed Mary, ever virgin, to blessed \nMichael the archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to \nthe holy apostles Peter and Paul, and to all the saints, \nthat I have sinned.\" Now, I do not see the use of \nnaming so many. The confession, I think, should have \nstopped with the first mentioned — Almighty God. \nWhat have the rest to do with it ? How is it any of \ntheir business? The person has not sinned against \nthem. Surely every sinner may say to God, \" Against \nthee, thee only have I sinned,\" since David could. \nBesides, this coupling of these creatures with the \nCreator, as worthy equally with himself to receive our \nconfessions of sin, savors strongly of idolatry. Con- \nfession is made to them on the same principle that \n\n\n\n60 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nprayer is. Each is an act of worship — one of those \nthings which should be confined exclusively to God. \nI wonder the Catholics will not be satisfied with one \ngreat and glorious object of worship, God, the Father, \nSon, and Spirit. Why will they in their devotions as- \nsociate creatures with the Creator ? The book I am \nreviewing contains numerous and very offensive ex- \namples of it. I shall continue the review in my next \n\n\n\nIT. The Review of the Catholic Book continued. \n\nThe next thing that struck me as worthy of notice \nin the perusal of the book was this — that the devout \nCatholic is represented as making the following so- \nlemn declaration concerning the Holy Scriptures : \n\" Neither will I ever take and interpret them other- \nwise than according to the unanimous consent of the \nfathers.\" I smiled when I read this, and I thought \nwithin myself, if that is his determination, he will not \nbe likely ever to take them at all. What an intention \nthis, which the Catholic expresses — never to attach \nany meaning to a passage which he may read in the \nBible, until he has first ascertained whether certain \nancient persons called the fathers all agreed in any \ninterpretation of it, and if so, what that interpretation \nis ! What should give such authority and weight to \nthe interpretation of the fathers ? Why cannot we as- \ncertain what the Bible means as well as they could ? \nWhat helps had they which we have not? and why \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 61 \n\nrequire that they be unanimous? What a roundabout \nmethod this of finding out what a book means ! First, \nthe reader has got to ascertain who are entitled to be \ncalled fathers. He must make out a list of them all. \nIf one is overlooked, it vitiates the interpretation, though \nall the rest should agree in it. But supposing him to \nhave got a catalogue of the whole number from Bar- \nnabas to Bernard, the next step in the process is to \nascertain how they all interpreted the Bible. For this \npurpose he must pore over their works. But some of \nthem left m works behind them. How shall he ever \niind out what they thought of this and that passage of \nScripture ? And yet he must somehow or other ascer- \ntain their opinions, else how can he compare them \nwith the opinions of the other fathers, and discover \ntheir agreement with them ? For you will remember \nthe consent must be unanimous. Others of the fathers \nleft works behind them, but they have not come down \nto us. How shall the reader of the Bible know what \nthose lost works contained ? Yet he must know what \nthey thought, else how can he be sure that they thought \nin accordance with the views of those fathers whose \nworks are preserved to us. I cannot see how this dif- \nficulty is to be got over, for my part. It is altogether \nbeyond me. But supposing it to be surmounted, there \nremains the task of comparing the opinions of all these \nGreek and Latin fathers, to the number of a hundred \nor two, one with another, to see if they all agree ; for \nthe consent, you know, must be unanimous. Those \nparts of Scripture in the interpretation of which they \ndid not agree, are to go for nothing. Indeed, if ninety- \nnine should be found to accord in a particular inter- \npretation, it must be rejected if the hundredth father \nG \n\n\n\n62 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nhad a different opinion of its meaning. I cannot help \nthinking that it is the better, as certainly it is the \nshorter and easier method, just for every one to take \nup and \" search the Scriptures,\" and \" if any lack \nwisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men \nliberally.\" \n\nAs the case is, I do not wonder that the Catholics \ndo not read the Bible. They have not come to that \nyet. They are still among the fathers, searching out \nand comparing their opinions, so as to know how to \ntake the Bible. By and by, if they live lr-ag enough, \nwhen they have ascertained what the fatners agreed \non, they may go to reading the Scriptures. \n\nIt seems odd that one cannot, without mortal sin, \nattach a meaning to such a passage as John, 3 : 16, \n\" God so loved the world, that he gave his only be- \ngotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should \nnot perish, but have everlasting life,\" until he has \nfirst ascertained what Cyprian, Jerome, Hilary, both \nthe ^Gregorys, and indeed all the fathers thought of \nit, and whether they agreed in their interpretation of \nit. How any one can read it without understanding \nit in spite of himself, I cannot see. Ah, but they say \nihe Scriptures are so obscure. And are the fathers so \nvery clear ? Why cannot we understand the Greek \nof John and Paul, as well as that of Chrysostom ? \n\nThe thing which next attracted my observation in \nthe book was the following : \" In the Mass there is of- \nfered to God a true, proper, and propitiatory sacrifice \nfor the living and the dead.\" The Mass ! and what \nis that? The Bible could not tell me. So I had to \nresort to the dictionary. It is the name which the \nCatholics give to the sacrament of the Lord's supper ; \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 63 \n\nor rather to the half of it ; for you know they divide it, \nand giving the bread to the people, do with the wine \nI cannot tell what. They say that it is perfect in one \nkind, and anathematize all who say it is not. Their \ncurse is on me now while I am writing. Neverthe- \nless I must ask, if it was perfect in one kind, why did \nChrist institute it in both kinds ? Why did he not \nstop with the bread, reserving the cup ? Was it to \nmake the sacrament more than perfect ? But this is \nreasoning. I forget myself. The Catholics don't \nhold to reasoning. \n\nAn idea occurs to me here which I beg leave to ex \npress. If the sacrament is perfect in either kind, why \ndo not the priests sometimes give the people the cup ? \nWhy do they always give them the bread ? And why \noriginally did they withhold the cup rather than the \nbread? Some persons may imagine a reason, but I \nwill content myself with asking the question. \n\nBut to proceed. They say that \"in ihe Mass there \nis offered to God\" &c. Why, what do they mean ? \nThere is nothing offered to God. What is offered is \nto men. Christ says, offering to his disciples the \nbread, \"take, eat,\" and reaching out the cup, he says, \n\" drink ye all of it.\" There is something offered to \nmen in this sacrament, even the precious memorials \nof the Savior's propitiatory death ; but every one who \nreads the account, sees that there is nothing offered to \nGod. Yet the Catholics, leaning on tradition, say \nthere is in it \" a true, proper and propitiatory sacrifice \" \noffered to God. A sacrifice included in the sacra- \nment! How is that? And a propitiatory sacrifice \ntoo ! I always supposed that propitiatory sacrifices \nceased with the offering up of the Great Sacrifice — \n\n\n\n64 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwhen the Lamb of God bled and died. Do we not \nread, that \" by one offering he hath perfected for ever \nthem that are sanctified,\" \" now once in the end of \nthe world hath he appeared to put away sin by the \nsacrifice of himself ?\" \" Christ was once offered to bear \nthe sins of many\" — and it is said of his blood that it \n\" cleanseth from all sin.\" I don't know what we want \nafter this, of those unbloody sacrifices which the Ca- \ntholics talk of as offered continually in the service of \nthe Mass. What is the use of them, if they are un- \nbloody, as they say, since \"without shedding of blood \nis no remission?\" \n\nAccording to the Catholics, it was premature in \nChrist to say on the cross, \" it is finished.\" They \ndeny that it is finished. They say it is going on still — \nthat Christ is offered whenever Mass is said. Once \nChrist was offered, the Bible says ; but the Roman \nchurch affirms that he is offered many times daily , \nwhenever and wherever mass is said ! \n\nI do really wonder that this religion has lasted so \nlong in the world. How the human mind can enter- \ntain it for a day, I do not know. See how at every \nstep it conflicts with reason. See in how many points \nit does violence to common sense. See, in this case, \nhow boldly it contradicts the dying declaration of the \nSavior. It is a religion unknown to the Bible — and \nyet still in existence, aye, and they say, making pro- \ngress, and that even in this home of freedom ! If it be \nso, which I question, I blush that I am an American, \nand am almost ashamed that I am a man. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 65 \n\n\n\n18. The Pope an Idolater. \n\nIt may seem a very uncharitable title I give this ar- \nticle. What, some will say, charge the Pope with be- \ning an idolater! What do you mean? I mean just \nwhat I say, that this boasted head of the church, and \nself-styled vicar of Christ, residing at Rome, ascribes \ndivine attributes, and pays divine honors to a creature, \neven to a human being, a partaker in our mortality \nand sin ! and if that is not idolatry, I don't know what \nidolatry is. If that is not idolatry, the worship of the \ngolden calf was not — the worship of the host of hea- \nven was not — the worship of the gods of Hindooism \nis not. What truer definition of idolatry can be given \nthan that it is an ascribing of divine attributes, and a \npaying of divine honors to a creature ? It does not mat- \nter what the creature is, whether it be the angel nearest \nthe throne of God, or an onion that grows in the gar- \nden, such as they of Egypt once worshiped. It is its \nbeing a created thing — it is its being not God. that \nmakes the service done it idolatry. \n\nBut can I make good this charge against the suc- \ncessor of St. Peter, as they call him? If I cannot, I \nsin not merely against charity, but against truth. But \nI can establish it. Nor will I derive the proof from \nthe Pope's enemies ; nor will I look for it in the his- \ntories of the Papacy. The Pope himself shall supply \nme with the proof. Out of his own mouth will I judge \nhim. If his own words do not convict him of idolatry, \nbelieve it not. But if they do, away with the objec- \ntion that it is an offence against charity to speak of \nsuch a thing as the Pope's being an idolater. My cha- \n6* \n\n\n\n66 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nrity \"rejoiceth in the truth.\" The charge can be un- \ncharitable only by being untrue. It is too late in the \nday, I trust, for idolatry to find an apologist. But to \nthe proof. Perhaps you suppose it is some obscure \nPope of the night of times — the dark ages, that I am \ngoing to prove an idolater. No, it is a Pope of the \nnineteenth century — the present reigning Pope, Gre- \ngory XVI. He is the idolater ; and here are his own \nwords in proof of it. They are a part of the circular, \nor encyclical letter, sent forth by him on entering on \nhis office, and addressed to all Patriarchs, Primates, \nArchbishops, and Bishops. The letter may be found \nin the Laity's Directory, 1833, and has been extensive- \nly published without any of its statements being con- \ntradicted. In it the Pope calls upon all the clergy to \nimplore il that she, (the Virgin Mary,) who has been, \nthrough every great calamity, our Patroness and Pro- \ntectress, may watch over us writing to you, and lead \nour mind by her heavenly influence, to those counsels \nwhich may prove most salutary to Christ's flock !\" Is \ncomment necessary ? Observe, he recognizes not God \nas having been their defence, but her as having been \ntheir protectress in past calamities, and directs the \nclergy to pray to her to continue her watch over them 1 \nAs contrast is one of the principles on which ideas are \nassociated, I was reminded in reading this, of the 121st \nPsalm, in which the writer speaks of the one \" that \nkeepeth Israel.\" It is not she, according to the Psalmist, \nbut He, the Lord which made heaven and earth, that \nkeepeth Israel. But, according to the Pope, it is the \nVirgin Mary that keeps Israel ; and he speaks of her \nas exerting a heavenly influence on the mind. I al- \nways thought it was the exclusive prerogative of Je- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 57 \n\niiovah to have access to the mind, and to exert an im- \nmediate influence on it ; and I cannot but think now \nthat the Pope must err in this matter, though he \nspeaks ex cathedra. I cannot believe he was exactly \ninfallible when he wrote that letter. \n\nBut you have not heard the worst of it yet. In the \nsame letter he says : \" But that all may have a suc- \ncessful and happy issue, let us raise our eyes to the \nmost blessed Virgin Mary, who alone destroys here- \nsies, who is our greatest hope, yea, the entire ground \nof our hope !\" The underscoring is mine, but the \nwords are the Pope's. Now, just look at this. Did you \never hear any thing like it ? Observe what Mary is said \nto be and to do ; and what the clergy are exhorted to \ndo. The Pope's religion cannot be the oldest, as they \npretend. It is not the religion of the Psalms. In the \n121st Psalm the writer says : \" / will lift up mine \neyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. \nMy help cometh from the Lord.\" And in the 123d, \n\" Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest \nin the heavens. Behold, as the eyes of servants look \nunto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a \nmaiden unto the hand of her mistress ; so our eyes \nwait upon the Lord cur God, until that he have mer- \ncy upon us.\" But the Pope says : \" Let us raise our \neyes to the most blessed Virgin Mary.\" There is the \ndifference between the Pope and the Psalmist. Pro- \ntestants in this case side with the Psalmist ; and in \nthis particular our religion is not only older than Lu- \nther, but older even than the Pope. \n\nI would inquire of the reader whether these prayers \nwhich the Pope would have the whole church address \nto the Virgin Mary, are not precisely such as are pro- \n\n\n\n68 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nper to be addressed to God, and which others do ad- \ndress to him ? Do they not ask of her just what ought \nto be asked of Him, and what he alone can give? Af- \nter asking such things as the Catholics are directed \nto ask of the Virgin Mary, what remains to be asked \nof God in prayer? And is not this putting a creature \nin the place of God ? Indeed, is it not putting God \nquite out of the question? The eyes are raised in \nprayer to the Virgin, and they are lifted no higher \nThere they fix. Is not this idolatry ? And you see he \nis not satisfied himself with being an idolater, but he \nwants the entire clergy, and of course the whole Ca- \ntholic church, to join him in his idolatry ! \n\nI wish the Pope had explained how the blessed Vir- \ngin destroys heresies. He says she does it, and she \nalone. I should think it rather belonged to \" the Spirit \nof Truth\" to destroy heresies, and to \" guide into all \ntruth.\" But no, says the Pope, the Spirit of Truth has \nnothing to do with it. It is all done by the blessed \nVirgin ! She \" alone destroys heresies.\" \n\nThe Catholics complain that we call their Pope \nAntichrist. But I would appeal to any one to say it \nhe is not Antichrist, who, overlooking Christ altoge- \nther, says of another, that she is \" our greatest hope, \nyea, the entire ground of our hope ?\" Is not that against \nChrist? The Bible speaks of him as \"our hope,\" 1 \nTim. 1:1; yea, of him as our only hope ; for \" other \nfoundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is \nJesus Christ.\" 1 Cor. 3:11. \" Neither is there salva- \ntion in any other \" Acts, 4 : 12. It would seem from \nthis, that Christ is the ground of hope. But not so, \nsays the Pope ; the blessed Virgin is \" the entire ground \nof our hope.\" By the way, I should not be surprised if \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 69 \n\nthat hope should disappoint its possessor. Now, is not \nthe Pope Antichrist? Well, if he is an idolater and \nAntichrist, ought he to be adhered to ? What sort of \na body must that be, which has such a head? I think \nI should not like to be a member of it. And I must \nconfess that I am against such a person having any- \nmore power in our free, enlightened, and happy Ame- \nrica, than he has already. Pray let us not, after hav- \ning broken the chains of political thraldom, come in \nbondage to idolatry. Let us not, after having extri- \ncated our persons from the power of a king, subject \nour minds to the spiritual domination of a Pope. \n\n\n\n19. Charles X. an Idolater. \n\nHaving proved his holiness the Pope an idolater, \nI proceed now to prove \" his most Christian majesty\" \nthat was, the ex-king of France, an idolater ; which \nhaving done, I shall have gone a good way towards \nproving the whole Catholic church idolatrous, since, \nas you know, it is their boast that they all think alike, \nand that there are no such varieties of opinion among \nthem as among us unfortunate Protestants; though, \nby the way, it is not so strange that they all think \nalike, when one thinks for all. \n\nI proved Gregory an idolater out of his own mouth. \n1 shall do the same in the case of Charles. On the \noccasion of the baptism (with oil, spittle, &c. an im- \nprovement on the simple water-system of the Bible) \n\n\n\n70 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof his young grand-son, the Duke of Bordeaux', \nthis was his language : \" Let us invoke for him the \nprotection of the mother of God, the queen of the an- \ngels ; let us implore her to watch over his days, and \nremove far from his cradle the misfortunes with which \nit has pleased Providence to afflict his relatives, and \nto conduct him by a less rugged path than I have had, \nto eternal felicity.\" He was anxious that the little boy \nshould have a protector, one to watch over him, and \nto remove his misfortunes, and to conduct him by an \neasy path to eternal life. For this purpose, one not \neducated a Catholic would have supposed that he \nwould apply to the omniscient and almighty God. I \ndo not know who can do those things besides God. \nBut no. 'His majesty\" does no more apply to God, \nthan did his holiness in a similar case. I suppose it \nwould have been heresy if he had. They would have \nthought him going over to Protestantism. His holi- \nness and his majesty both make application to the \ncreature rather than to the Creator. Charles does not \nsay, \" Let us invoke for him the protection of God,\" \nbut of a woman, a woman indeed highly favored of \nthe Lord, and of blessed memory, but still a woman. \nHe calls her, according to the custom of his church, \n\" the mother of God.\" I suppose you know that phrase \ns not in the Bible. And there is a good reason for it. \nthe idea is not as old as the Bible. The Bible is an \nold book, almost as old as our religion. Roman Ca- \ntholicism is comparatively young. I will not remark \non the phrase, mother of God, seeing it is not in the \nBible, and since it has often been remarked upon by \nothers. But there is another thing the ex-king says of \nher. on which I will spend a word or two. He calls \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPE.LY. 71 \n\nher \" the queen of the angels.\" Now we read in the \nBible, of Michael, the archangel, or prince of angels, \nbut we do not read of the angels having a queen. We \nread also of a king in heaven, but not a word about a \nqueen. I don't know where he got this idea of a queen \nof angels. He certainly did not get it out of the Holy- \nScriptures, and yet these Scriptures, I had always \nsupposed, contain all that we know about the angels. \nI wish he would tell us from his retirement where he \ngot the idea, for he speaks very positive about the an- \ngels having a queen. It is true, we do read in one \nplace in the Bible of a queen of heaven, but the wor- \nship of her was so evidently idolatry, that I presume \nthe Catholics will not quote it as authorizing the title \nthey give and the honor they pay to the Virgin Mary. \nThe account is found in Jeremiah, 44. If any one will \nread the chapter he will see what that prophet thought \nof those worshipers of the queen of heaven. Now, if \nthe worship of a queen of heaven by the Jews was de- \nnounced as idolatry, and ruin came on them in con- \nsequence of it, is not a similar worship performed by \nCatholics as idolatrous, and as dangerous? \n\nBut no matter what he calls her, he asks her to do \nwhat only God can do. He treats her precisely as if \nshe were divine. Is it not so — and is not this idolatry ? \nHe ascribes divine perfections to her — omniscience, \nelse how could she watch over the child ; and omni- \npotence, else how could she ward off evil from him ; \nand he speaks of her as the guide of souls to eternal \nlife. The Psalmist considered it was the prerogative \nof God to do this. He says, \" Thou shalt guide me \nwith thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.\" \nBut the ex-king looks to Mary to conduct the young \n\n\n\n72 THOUGHTS ON POPERY, \n\nduke to eternal life. What the Psalmist expects from \nGod, the ex-king expects from Mary. Is not this put- \nting a creature in the place of God, the Creator? \nEvery one must see that it is shocking idolatry, and \nthat the man who uses such language is as truly an \nidolater as any devotee of Juggernaut. \n\nI do really wonder that the Catholics continue to \ncall their system Christianity. It is by a great misno- \nmer it is so called. It is not the proper name for it at \nall. It should be called by some such name as Mari- \nanism, rather than Christianity. In Christianity the \nprincipal figure is Christ ; but he is not the principal \nfigure in the Catholic religion. Mary is. Therefore \nthe religion should be called after her, Marianism, and \nnot after Christ, Christianity. Catholics are not the \ndisciples of Christ, but of Mary ; she is their confi- \ndence and hope. Pope Gregory says she \" is our great- \nest hope, yea, the entire ground of our hope.\" Now, \nI think that the religion of such people ought to be \ncalled after the one who is their greatest hope ; and I \nhave suggested a name to the Catholics, which I ad- \nvise them to adopt. Let their religion be called Mari- \nanism, and let them leave to us the name Christianity, \nsince Christ c< is our hope.\" \n\nHaving proved his Holiness, and his most Christian \nMajesty, the two principal characters in the church of \nRome, idolaters, I think I may as well stop here. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 73 \n\n\n\n20. Idolatry near Home. \n\nIt is wonderful what a propensity there is in fallen \nHen to idolatry. How they do love to worship the \nfreature rather than the Creator ! In a certain church, \ntvhich need not be named, the blessed virgin, though \na mere woman, receives ten, perhaps a hundred times \nas much religious honor as does the blessed Savior, \nthough he be \" the mighty God,\" deserving of all ho- \nmage, while she merits barely respectful remembrance. \nOne that has much intercourse with Catholics would \nsuppose the mother to be the Savior of the world, ra- \nther than the Son. They make her to be the principal \nadvocate of sinners in heaven. \" If any man sin, we \nnave an advocate with the Father.\" Who? St. John \nsays, \"Jesus Christ the righteous\" — the Catholics \nsay it is Mary ! So they differ — we Protestants side \nwith John. \n\nI have lately met with an idolatrous temple, that is, \na church or chapel avowedly erected in honor of a \ncreature, and dedicated to a creature. Is not that a \ntemple of idolatry ? Can there be a more accurate de- \nfinition of such a place ? Well, I have seen one — and \nI have not been a voyage to India neither. Some \nthink there is no idolatry nearer than India ; and when \nthey hear of an idol-temple they immediately think of \nJuggernaut. But it is a mistake. I have not been out \nof the United States of America, and yet I have seen \na temple of idolatry. I will state the case, and let \nevery one judge for himself. If I am under an erro- \nneous impression I shall be glad to be corrected. The \n7 \n\n\n\n74 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ncase is this : On the Catholic chapel in Annapolis, \nMaryland, is this inscription, \" In honorem Dei Pa- \nrje Virginis.\" It is Latin. The English of it is, \" In \nhonor of the Virgin, the mother of God.\" If I have \nnot rightly translated it, some of those who worship \nm Latin can correct me. \n\nNow, what does this mean ? It seems to signify \nthat the chapel was erected, and is continued in ho- \nnor of, that is, for the worship of the Virgin Mary. \nThe being in whose honor a chapel is erected is wor- \nshiped in it. If not, how is it in honor of him? The \ninscription signifies dedication to the Virgin Marv \nNow, the being to whom a place of religious worship \nis dedicated is always the object of the worship there \nrendered. This is universally understood. Hence we \ndedicate our churches to the Triune God, for him we \nworship in them. They are erected in honor of him. \nNo one mistakes the meaning of these inscriptions, \nWhen we read on the Unitarian church in Baltimore \nthis inscription in Greek, \" To the only God,\" we un- \nderstand that the church is consecrated to the service \nof the only God, and it is precisely the same as if the \ninscription had been in the style of that at Annapolis s \nin honor of the only God. So when Paul found at \nAthens an altar with this inscription, \" To the unknown \nGod,\" he inferred immediately that worship was in- \ntended, for he says, \" whom therefore ye ignorantly \nworship :\" suppose the inscription had been \" in ho- \nnor of the unknown God,\" would not the apostle's in \nference have been the same? Nothing is more clear \nthan that the inscription on which I am remarking, \nimplies that the chapel in question is dedicated to the \nworship of the Virgin Mary : and she being a creature \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 75 \n\nthis constitutes it a temple of idolatry, and those who \nworship in it idolaters ! \n\nLet no man say that the inscription implies no more \nthan that the chapel is named after Mary. Some Pro- \ntestants name their churches after saints, but the \nname is not given in any case in honor of the saint. \nSt. Paul's in London was not built in honor of St. \nPaul. It is simply so denominated. But here we have \na chapel in honor of the Virgin, and she is called Mo- \nther of God, apparently to justify the worship which \nthe authors of the chapel intend her. If this were the \nonly proof that Catholics worship the Virgin Mary, \nwe might overlook it ; but it is only one of many. No \none thing is more susceptible of demonstration, less \ncapable of denial, than that Roman Catholics render \nunto this creature that which is due to God alone, re- \nligious worship. See for proof, their own Rhemish \nTestament with the notes. Therefore they are idola- \nters. I am sorry to say it, because I am sorry there is \nany occasion for saying it. But the time has come to \nspeak out. This religion is threatening America, and \nit should be known, it should be proclaimed in the ear \nof every Christian, and every patriot, that it is some- \nthing worse than mere error. And something more \nto be dreaded far than tyranny, which also it is, and \never has been, and must be — it is idolatry. It puts \nanother, and a creature, in the place of God ; or if it \ndiscards not him, it does what is as offensive to him, \nit associates other and inferior objects of worship with \nhim — and this his jealousy will not suffer. Whatever \nthis great people are to become, I do hope we shall \nnever be a nation of idolaters — creature-worshipers. \nWe had better be, what God forbid we ever should be, \n\n\n\n76 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\na nation of slaves. I do verily believe that the Romar, \nCatholic religion has only to be universally adopted \nto make us both. \n\n\n\n81. Praying to Saints. \n\nThis is one of the numerous points in which Ca- \ntholics and Protestants differ from each other. They, \nthe Catholics, pray to departed saints. This they ac- \nknowledge they do, nor are they at all ashamed of the \npractice, but endeavor to justify it. If any one doubtf \nthat they hold to the invocation of saints, as they ex- \npress it, let him consult the notes to their own Rhe- \nmish Testament, or look into their book of prayers \nwhere he will read the very language in which they \nmake their supplication to the saints. \n\nWe Protestants do not pray to saints, and we think \nwe have pretty good reasons for not doing it. We wil, \nmention some of them, in the hope that they will ap- \npear to be equally good reasons why Catholics shouid \nnot pray to saints. \n\n1. We do not feel the need of saints to pray to. We \nhave a great and good God to go unto, whose ear is \never open to our cry, and we think that is enough \nwe do not want any other object of prayer. Whenever \nwe feel the need of any thing, we judge it best to \napply directly to our heavenly Father, especially \nsince James, one of the saints, testifies, that \" every \ngood gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, an« \ncometh down from the Father of lights.\" Others may, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 77 \n\nin their necessity, if they please, apply to the saints, \nbut we choose to ask of the Great Giver of all good. \nIn doing so, we think we are much more likely to re- \nceive than if we invoke the saints. \n\nIt is true, being sinners, we need an advocate with \nthe Father, but we do not need more than one, and \nhim we have, as John, another saint, testifies, in Jesus \nChrist : \" If any man sin, we have an advocate with \nthe Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.\" John speaks \nof only one advocate, and Paul asserts that as there \nis but one God, so there is but one mediator between \nGod and men. Yet the Catholics will have it, that \nthere are advocates many and mediators many. The \nnotes of the Rhemish translators on 1 Tim. 2 : 5, and \n1 John, 2 : 1, assert the doctrine of a plurality of me- \ndiators and advocates. The object of those notes is to \nshow, that if any man sin, he has many advocates with \nthe Father, and that there are more mediators than \none between God and men ; the very reverse of what \nthose texts assert ! I am aware that the Catholics say \nthat saints are mediators only in a subordinate sense ; \nbut I say they are mediators in no sense. Does the \nBible speak of them as mediators in any sense ? Those \nwords, \" mediator \" and \" advocate,\" are in the Bible \nsacredly appropriated to Christ. There is but one, and \nit is he. We come to the Father by him. To him we \ncome immediately. Here we need no daysman. \n\n2. We Protestants have always regarded prayer \nas a part of worship, as much as praise and confession \nof sin. Now, our Savior says, \" Thou shalt worship \nthe Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.\" We \ndare not, therefore, pray to any other than God. We \nwould not like to b? guilty of the idolatry of worship- \ning a creature. 7* \n\n\n\n■\"8 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n3. If we were disposed to pray to the saints, yet we \nshould not exactly know how to do it. Were we to \npray to them generally, wi:hout singling any out by \nname, it would be a kind of praying at random ; and \nwe strongly suspect that our requests would not be at- \ntended to, for it may be among saints in heaven, as it \nis among their less perfect brethren on earth, that what \nis made every body's business comes to be regarded \nas nobody's. If, on the other hand, we apply to spe- \ncific saints, and invoke them by name, this supposes \nthat we know just who the saints are. It implies either \nthat we could see into their hearts while they lived, \nor that we can see into heaven now — both which far \noutreach our power. We might make some sad mis- \ntake in praying to deceased men who have passed for \nsaints. It is easy enough to ascertain who the church \nregards as saints, but the canonized may not exactly \ncorrespond to the sanctified. But, supposing this diffi- \nculty removed, and that we know certain individuals, \nwho, having once lived on earth, are now in heaven : \nthe next thing is, to make them hear us, for there is \nmanifestly no use in preferring requests to those who \ncannot hear them. How is this to be done? The saints \nare in heaven — the suppliant sinner is on earth, and \nthe distance between them is great. Saints in heaven \nare not within call of sinners on earth. Where is the \nproof of it? If I say, \"Peter, pray for me,\" how is \nne to know I say it? Peter is not omnipresent. Do \nthey say that God communicates to him the fact; but \nwhere is the proof of that ? Besides, what does it \namount to? God, according to this theory, informs \nPeter that a certain sinner on earth wants him, Peter, \no ask him, the Lord, to grant him something. This \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 79 \n\nis a roundabout method of getting at the thing. The \nman had better, a great deal, not trouble Peter, but say \nat once, \" God be merciful to me a sinner.\" \n\nBut the Catholics ask with an air of triumph, if we \ndo not request living saints to pray for us. We do, \nfor we have inspired authority for that. But that is \nnot praying to them. There is a wide difference be- \ntween praying to a saint in heaven, and asking a fel- \nlow-traveler to Zion on earth to pray to God for us. \nEvery one must see that. When a Christian asks his \nminister or his Christian friend to beseech God for \nhim, he does not consider that he is praying to him or \ninvoking him. Besides, we never ask one to pray for \nus, unless we know he is within hearing. We should \nthink it very silly to do so. We must have proof of \nhis presence before we think of making any request \nof him. Yet the Catholics are continually making \nrequests of creatures, of whose presence with them \nthey have not a particle of proof, and who, being crea- \ntures, it is certain cannot be present with all that call \nupon them. How many individuals are every day, at \nthe same hour, calling on the blessed Virgin for as- \nsistance ! It is all folly, unless she be omnipresent — a \ngoddess, which the Bible certainly does not represent \nher as being. She occupies but one small spot in the \nuniverse of God, and it is probably a great way off. \nShe cannot hear, even if she could help. Do you sup- \npose that her calm repose in heaven is suffered to be \ndisturbed by the ten thousand confused voices that \ncry to her without ceasing from earth? Never. \n\nIn looking over the Bible, the book which contains \nthe religion of Protestants, and which, being older \nthan the Roman Catholic religion, proves the seni- \n\n\n\n80 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nority of Protestantism over Popery, I find no account \nof praying to saints. I do not read of Joshua praying \nto Moses ; or of Elisha invoking Elijah. No, there is \nnot a word of what constitutes so much of the devo- \ntion of the Catholic in either Testament. We do not \nfind any thing in the Acts or Epistles about praying \nto the beloved Virgin, whom they call our Lady, in \nallusion to the phrase our Lord. Those writers say \nnothing about the mother. It is all about the Son. \nWhat heretics Luke and the rest of them were ! How \nworthy of being excommunicated ! Catholic books are \nfull of the blessed Virgin. The Bible is all about \nChrist. There is the difference. \n\nBut I forgot. The New Testament does record one \ninstance of prayer to a departed saint. The record is \nin Luke, 16. The saint prayed to was Abraham. The \nsupplicant was a rich man in hell, and he made two \nrequests. Here is the Catholic's authority for this \ndoctrine of praying to deceased saints, so far as he \ngets it out of the Bible. Let him make the most of it. \nWhen, however, he takes into consideration that it \nwas offered from hell, and by a man who lived and \ndied in ignorance and neglect of religion, and that it \nproved totally unavailing, I suspect he will make no \nmore out of it. \n\n\n\nspecimens of Catholic Idolatry. \n\nI take them from the Catholic book which I have \nbeen reviewing, \" The Christian's Guide to Heaven.\" \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 81 \n\nI did not know, before I read this book, that idolatry- \nwas the r )ad to heaven. It did not use to be under \nllie Jewish dispensation. These specimens of Catho- \nde idolatry I think the reader will pronounce, with me, \nHUite up to the average of Pagan idolatry. \n\nHere is one. \" We fly to thy patronage, O holy \nmother of God ; despise not our petitions in our neces- \nsities, but deliver us from all dangers.\" That is the \nmanner in which devout Catholics in the United \nStates are directed to pray. They fly to Mary, but \n\" God is our refuge.\" There is the difference. They \n.ook to her to deliver them from all dangers. I don't \nKnow how she can deliver them from all dangers. I \nthink they had better ascertain the powers of the Vir- \ngin Mary, before they place such unbounded reliance \non her. I should be a very fearful creature, had I none \nto fly to from danger but her. \" What time I am afraid, \nI will trust in thee\" (the Lord.) So says the Psalm- \nist, and it is my purpose too. \n\nThe next specimen is entitled, \" The Salve Regi- \nna,\" and thus it runs : \" Hail ! holy queen, mother of \nmercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee \nwe cry, poor banished sons of Eve; to thee we send \nup our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of \ntears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thy eyes \nof mercy towards us, and after this our exile is ended, \nshow unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus, O \nclement, O pious, O sweet Virgin Mary.\" Now, is it \nnot a farce to call this Christianity ? It is a great deal \nmore like atheism. Here is an authorized Catholic \nprayer, in which there is no recognition of God \nwhatever ! \n\nTken follows a call to devout contemplation, and \n\n\n\n82 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\none would suppose that the object of it would be \nGod, or the Savior. But no, it is the Virgin. \"Let \nus, with exultation, contemplate the blessed Virgin \nMary sitting in glory at the right hand of her be- \nloved Son. She is crowned by the heavenly Father \nqueen of heaven and earth, and appointed by Jesus \nChrist the dispenser of his graces.\" It is singular \nthat the Catholics, when they look up to heaven, see \nno object so conspicuous: as the blessed Virgin. Now, \nshe was not the most prominent figure in those visions \nof heaven of which we have account in the Bible. Ste- \nphen saw \" the heavens opened, and the Son of man \nstanding on the right hand of Gcd,\" but he saw no- \nthing of the Virgin Mary sitting at her Son's right \nhand. Nor does John, in the history he gives in the \nbook of Revelation of his visions of heaven, make any \nmention of seeing her. But it seems she is not only \nvisible to the contemplative Catholic, but almost alone \nconspicuous. \n\nThey speak of her moreover as crowned universal \nqueen, and appointed dispenser of the graces of Christ. \nBut where did they get that information ? It is too \nmuch to expect us to take their word for it, since it is \nacknowledged that we have not the word of God for it. \nI always supposed Christ to be, through his Spirit, the \ndispenser of his own graces. I always understood it \nto be him who \" received gifts for men.\" But it seems, \naccording to the Catholics, that quite a different per- \nson received and dispenses them. How much novelty \nthere is in the Catholic religion ! It is almost all of it \ncomparatively new doctrine. Ours, the Protestant, is \nthe old religion, after all that is said to the contrary. \n\nBut the Catholic is so positive in regard to the coro- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 83 \n\nnation of the blessed Virgin, that we find him using \nthe following thanksgiving, \" O Jesus, in union with \nangels and saints, I bless thee for the glory with \nwhich thou hast environed thy holy mother, and 1 \ngive thee thanks from the bottom of my heart, for \nhaving given her to me, for my queen, my protec- \ntress and my mother.\" Here ends the thanksgiving \nto Jesus. They soon become weary of addressing \nhim, and fondly return to the mother. \" O queen ot \nangels and men, grant thy powerful intercession to \nthose who are united to honor thee in the confrater- \nnity of the holy rosary,\" (I don't know what that \nmeans ; it is a mystery that I must leave unexplain- \ned,) \"and to all thy other servants.\" Then follows \nsomething to which I solicit particular attention. 1 \nsuspect the author and approvers of the book would \nbe glad to obliterate the sentence I am going to quote, \nif they could. But it is too late. The words are \nthese : \" I consecrate myself entirely to thy service.\" \nHere the person wishing to be guided to heaven is \ndirected, under the authority of the archbishop, to con- \nsecrate himself entirely to the service of the Virgin \nMary, who is acknowledged on all hands to be a \ncreature. Mark, it is entirely. This excludes God \naltogether from any share in the person's services. \nHe is to be entirely consecrated to the service of the \nVirgin. Will any one, who has any regard for his \ncharacter as an intelligent being, say that this is not \nidolatry ? There cannot be a plainer case of idolatry \nmade out in any part of the world, or from any portion \nof history. St. Paul beseeches us to present our bo- \ndies a living sacrifice to God, which, he says, is our \nreasonable service ; but this Catholic guide to heaven \n\n\n\n84 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndirects us to consecrate ourselves entirely to the se* \nvice of the Virgin Mary. \n\nAccordingly, the docile Catholic does consecrate \nhimself to Mary, as in the following act of devotion \nto her, which you may read in the same little book: \n\" O blessed Virgin, I come to offer thee my most \nhumble homage, and to implore the aid of thy pray- \ners and protection. Thou art all-powerful with the \nAlmighty. Thou knowest that from my tender years \nI looked up to thee as my mother, my advocate, and \npatroness. Thou wert pleased to consider me from \nthat time as one of thy children. I will henceforth \nserve, honor and love thee. Accept my protestation \nof fidelity ; look favorably on the confidence I have in \nthee ; obtain for me, of thy dear Son, a lively faith ; a \nfirm hope ; a tender, generous, and constant love, that \nI may experience the power of thy protection at my \ndeath.\" Here you perceive the Catholic says he will \ndo what \" the guide \" directs him to do. He will \nserve her; and so doing, he hopes to experience the \npower of her protection at his death. Poor soul ! I \npity him, if he has no better company in death than \nthat. That was not the reason David said, \" Though \nI walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I \nwill fear no evil.\" His reason was, \"for Thou (the \nLord, his shepherd) art with me; thy rod and thy \nstaff, they comfort me.\" How can Mary be with \nevery dying Catholic who trusts in her? I should likt \nto know. Do they go so far as to say she is omnipre- \nsent ? Have they formally deified her, as in fact they \nhave ? \n\nThe devotee in this prayer uses the following lan- \nguage to the virgin : \" Thou art all-powerful with the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 85 \n\nAlmighty.\" Shall I call this an error or a. falsehood? \nIt is certain that there is no truth in it. She, a poor \nsinful creature, like the rest of us, saved by grace, all- \npowerful with the Almighty in intercession ! Christ \nis that ; but no other being is ; and to say that any \nother is, is not only falsehood, but blasphemy. \n\nI have other specimens of Catholic idolatry, which \nI mean to give ; but those I have exhibited are suffi- \ncient to convict that church of idolatry before any \ncourt that ever sat, or any jury that was ever impan- \nneled. / have proved the Catholic church and reli- \ngion to be idolatrous. I have not merely asserted it ; \nit has been demonstrated, and the proof has been \ntaken from her own authorized publication. To have \nsaid she was idolatrous, Avould have been uncharita- \nble. To have proved it, is not. A man is responsi- \nble for the drift of his assertions, but not for the scope \nof his arguments. \n\nIdolatrous ! Yes, she who pretends to be the only \nchurch, is convicted, out of her own mouth, of idola- \ntry. She has this millstone about her neck. I won- \nder she has swum with it so long. It must sink her \npresently. I think I see her going down already, al- \nthough I know many suppose she is rising in the \nworld. \n\n\n\n23. More Specimens of Catholic Idolatry. \n\nWhy, reader, did you know that the Catholics not \nOnly pray to the Virgin Mary, but sing to her ? I was \n\n\n\n86 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nnot aware of it until I got hold of the book I have \nbeen reviewing. But it is a fact that they do. At the \nend of the book I find the two following hymns ad- \ndressed to her. They are both in common metre. Here \nis the first. You will see that, in point of idolatry, they \nare fully up to the prayers to her. \n\n\" O holy mother of our God, \n\n\" To thee for help we fly ; \n''Despise not this our humble prayer, \n\n\" But all our wants supply. \n\n\" O glorious virgin, ever blest, \n\n\" Defend us from our foes ; \n\" From threatening dangers set us free, \n\n\" And terminate cur woes.\" \n\nHere is the idolatry of looking to a creature for the \nsupply of all wants, and of flying to a creature for \nhelp and for defence. There is a curse pronounced in \nJeremiah, 17 : 5, on the man \" that trusteth in man, \nand maketh flesh his arm.\" If the person who de- \nvoutly uses this hymn does not make \"flesh his arm,\" \nI should like to know who does. \n\nThe other hymn runs thus : \n\n\" Hail, Mary, queen and virgin pure, \n\n\" With every grace replete ; \n\" Hail, kind protectress of the poor, \n\n\" Pity our needy state. \n\n\" O thou who fill'st the highest place, \n\n\" Next heaven's imperial throne; \n\" Obtain for us each saving grace, \n\n* And make our wants thy own. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 87 \n\n\" How oft, when trouble filled my breast, \n\n\" Or sin my conscience pained, \n\" Through thee I sought for peace and rest, \n\n\" Through thee I peace obtained. \n\n\" Then hence, in all my pains and cares, \n\n\" I'll seek for help in thee ; \n\" E'er trusting, through thy powerful prayers, \n\n4 To gain eternity.\" \n\nBut it seems the blessed Virgin is not the only crea- \nture they sing to. I find in the same book a hymn to \nSt. Joseph, of which the first verse is, \n\n\"Holy Patron, thee saluting, \n\n\" Here we meet with hearts sincere; \n\n\" Blest St. Joseph, all uniting, \n\n\" Call on thee to hear our prayer.\" \n\nPerhaps the reader is aware that the Catholics are \nnot satisfied with praying merely to animated beings, \nthey sometimes supplicate things which have no life. \nIndeed they seem disposed to worship almost every \nthing, except it be Him whom alone they should wor- \nship. To give but one example, I find in \" the Litany \nof the blessed Sacrament,\" as they call it, among ma- \nny other similar supplications, this one, \" O wheat of \nthe elect, have mercy on us.\" What a prayer this, to \nbe sanctioned by an archbishop, and sent forth from \none of the most enlightened cities of America, and \nthat in the nineteenth century too ! It is really too bad \nWe talk of the progress of things. But here is retro- \ncession with a witness. In the first century the rule \nwas, according to the practice of the publican, to pray \n\" God be merciful to me a sinner ;\" but now in the \n\n\n\n00 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nnineteenth, the sinner is directed to say, \" O wheat \nof the elect, have mercy on us !\" \n\nI think we have found, with reference to the Catho* \nlie religion, what Archimedes could not find when he \nwanted to move the world. He said he could move it, \nprovided he could have a place to stand on, from which \nhe could with his lever act upon the world. But as no \nsuch place could be found for him, the world was not \nmoved. I think, however, that I have discovered a \nspot from which we can not only move, but utterly \nsubvert the Roman Catholic religion. We pass over \nher absurdity and her intolerance, and plant ourselves \non her idolatry. Here we will stand, and from this \nplace we will carry on our operations against her. If \nthe Roman Catholic church is idolatrous, can she \nstand? Must she not fall? What ! a church that is \nplainly idolatrous maintain its ground as the church \nof Christ ! It is impossible. It is but for the eyes of \nmankind to be opened to see her idolatry, and her \nreign is over. The common sense of the world cannot \nlong brook prayers and hymns to creatures, and sup- \nplications for mercy to that of which bread is made. \n\n1 would not have it persecuted ; I would not have one \nof its adherents harmed in the slightest degree ; but \nthere are some things which the enlightened intellect \nof man cannot tolerate ; and this is the chief of those \nthings which are intolerable to reason. It must go off \nthe stage, even though infidelity should come on and \noccupy it. The religion that is not of the Bible, and \nthat scoffs at reason, must come to an end. I have nc \nfears of its rising to any higher ascendancy than that \nit now occupies. My hope is in God ; but if it were \nnot, it would be in man. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 89 \n\n\n\n24. Image Worship. \n\n\n\nIf there be any truth in phrenology, I judge that \nCatholics must have the organ of veneration very \nlargely developed. There are no people, unless it be \nsome Pagans, who are so inclined to worship. They \nworship almost every thing that comes in their way, \nwith scarcely any discrimination. The value of wor- \nship with them seems to depend on the variety of ob- \njects worshiped. What a pity it is they cannot con- \nfine their worship within narrower bounds ! What a \npity they are not satisfied with one object of religious \nveneration — the great and glorious God ! But no. Be- \nsides him, they must have a host of creatures, angels, \nsaints, and what not, as objects of adoration. Nor are \nthey satisfied with these beings themselves. They \nmust have visible representations of them to bow \ndown unto, and worship. They want something to \nworship which they can see. In the profession of \nfaith which I find in the little book published in Bal- \ntimore under the sanction of the archbishop, from \nwhich I have quoted so freely already, and to which \nI love to appeal, seeing it is published so near home, \nand there can be no dispute about its authority, I find \nthis paragraph among others : \" I most firmly assert, \nthat the images of Christ, of the mother of God, ever \nVirgin, and also of the saints, ought to be had and re- \ntained, and that due honor and veneration is to be \ngiven them.\" This doctrine sounds a little different \nfrom that promulged from Sinai, and written with the \nfinger of God on the tables of stone. They look to be \nat variance, to say the least ; and I think I shall be \n8* \n\n\n\n90 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nable to show presently that they have that aspect to \nCatholics as well as Protestants. The voice that \nshook the earth, after saying, \" Thou shalt have no \nother gods before me,\" said, \" Thou shalt not make \nunto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any \nthing that is in heaven above,\" &c. Now Christ, the \nvirgin, and the saints are in heaven above, unless any \nchoose to surmise that some of those reckoned saints \nare elsewhere. Consequently no likeness of them \nmay be made. The law proceeds : \" Thou shalt not \nbow down thyself to them, nor serve them.\" But do \nnot Catholics bow down or kneel before likenesses of \nthe saints and others? I ask the question. I know \nthey used to do so, and I suppose I may infer that \nthey do so now, since it is their grand boast that their \nreligion is every where and always the same. The \ndoctrine delivered from Sinai is the old notion on the \nsubject, and it would seem to be against every kind \nand degree of image worship. But, says the modern \n\" guide to heaven,\" what the authoritative Council of \nTrent had said many years before, \" the images of \nChrist, of the mother of God, and also of the saints, \nought to be had and retained, and due honor and ve- \nneration given them.\" Here are Baltimore and \nTrent against Sinai; or, in other words, the arch- \nbishop and council on one side, and he who came \ndown on the mountain which burned with fire on the \nother. My hearers must range themselves on either \nside, as they see fit. \n\nBut cannot the two things be reconciled somehow ? \nCan they not be so explained as to remove all ap- \npearance of inconsistency ? Perhaps they can, if one \nof them be explained away, that is, be made so clear \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 91 \n\nthat you can't see it any longer. This is a new way \nsome have of reconciling things ; but I, as an indivi- \ndual, do not think much of it. I like the old way of \nlaying things alongside of each other, and then shed- \nding as much light as possible on both. If this is \ndone with the two things in question, 1 fear there is \nno hope of reconciling them. To this conclusion our \nCatholic brethren themselves seem to have come ; and \nseeing that the two things could not be so explained \nas to appear in harmony, they have most effectually \nexplained one ol tnem away. They have suppressed \nit. The second commandment has been thrown out \nof the Decalogue, as I have shown on a former occa- \nsion. This is a part of the Catholics' \" short and easy \nmethod with Protestants.\" It beats Leslie's with the \nDeists all to nothing. Whether it be as honest and \ncorrect a method, as it is short and easy, I refer to the \njudgment of my readers. One thing is very certain ; \nthe Catholics must think that the old second com- \nmandment is, or at least looks very much against \nthem, otherwise they would not have meddled with \nit. Can any other reason be given for the suppres \nsion of the second commandment, but that it seems to \nforbid that use which Catholics make of images in \ntheir churches? If any body can imagine another \nreason, I will thank him to state it. Now, where \nthere can be but one motive impelling to an act, I \nsuppose it is not uncharitable to refer the act to that \nmotive. \n\nI believe the reader is aware that, even in the little \nmodern Baltimore book, \" the guide to heaven,\" the \nsecond commandment is suppressed. I think I have \nstated that fact in a former article. It is so. And \n\n\n\n92 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwhy should it not be ? Why should not the invaria \nble religion be the same here that it is in Ireland or \nItaly ? Why should American Catholics be bound to \nkeep one more commandment than European Catho- \nlics? Why should they of the old countries have \ngreater liberty of action than we of the new world ? \nThe circumstances under which the second com- \nmandment is omitted in \"the guide to,\" &c. are \nthese. An examination, preparatory to confession, is \nrecommended to the devout Catholic, on the ten com- \nmandments, that he may see, before he goes to the \npriest to get forgiveness, wherein he has transgressed \nany of them. Now, he is not directed to examine him- \nself on the second, but twice over on the tenth, so as \nto make out the full number. Now I acknowledge it \nwould have been awkward to have set the person to \nexamining himself in reference to the second com- \nmandment. It might have led to a conviction of sins \nnot recognized by his confessor. If he had asked \nhimself, \" is there any graven image, or likeness erf \nany thing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, \nto which I bow down ?\" himself would have been apt \nto answer, \" Why yes, there is that image of Christ I \nkneel before — and there is that likeness of the blessed \nVirgin I bow down to and adore — I am afraid I have \nbroken the second commandment.\" If then he had \ngone to the priest with his scruples, you see it would \nhave made work and trouble. It is true, the priest \ncould have said to him, \" O, my child, you don't \nmean any thing by it. You only use the image as a \nhelp to devotion. Your worship does not terminate \non it. Your worship of it is only relative. Besides, \nyou don't adore the image — you only venerate it — \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 93 \n\nmd you only give \" due honor and veneration \" to \nImages — nothing more than that. You should con- \nsider, my child, the distinction between adoration and \nFeneration — and also between latria and duliaP But \nthis might not have satisfied the person's conscience. \n[t might have been all Greek to him. Wherefore it \nwas judged most prudent not to recommend any ex- \namination on the commandment about images. Per- \nhaps it was the more prudent course. The policy of \nthe measure I do not dispute. \n\nBut, say the Catholics, have not Protestants their \npictures and statues? Certainly we have. We do \nnot make war against the fine arts. We can approve \nof painting- and statuary without practicing idolatry. \nYes, we have representations of deceased Christians, \nbut we do not kneel before them, nor do we on that \naccount drop the second commandment, as some do. \nThe Catholics make a great many explanations and \ndistinctions on this subject of image worship, some \nof which I have adverted to above, in what I have \nsupposed the priest to say. But they are substantially \nthe same that the ancient Israelite might have made, \nand the modern Pagan makes in justification of him- \nself. Idolaters, when called upon to explain them- \nselves, have always been in the habit of saying that \nt was only a relative worship they paid to the visible \nobject, and that the adoration was meant to pass \nmrough and terminate on an invisible object beyond. \nThis explanation is not original with the modern \nChristian idolater. It is as old as Jewish and Pagan \nidolatry. The worshipers of the golden calf wor- \nshiped something beyond the calf. The calf was \nonly a help to devotion, and they only paid \" due \n\n\n\n94 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nhonor and veneration \" to it. Nevertheless they \" sin- \nned a great sin,\" and \" the Lord plagued the people \" \non account of it. \" There fell of the people that day \nabout 3.000.\" I suppose it would have been just the \nsame had they made ever so many explanations. But \ntheir explanations were not waited for. What signi- \nfies all these explanations and distinctions to the great \nmass of the Catholic laity ? They do not even under- \nstand them ; and it seems that if they both understood \nand regarded them, it would not help the matter. It \nis this very explained and qualified worship which the \ncommandment forbids. \n\nT have nothing more to say about images, but I wish \nthe Archbishop of Baltimore would allow the second \ncommandment to appear in the next edition of \" the \nGuide to Heaven.\" I wish he would let the publish- \ner's stereotype plates be altered so as to conform to the \ntables of stone. I am afraid the people will not get \nto heaven if they have not respect to all God's com- \nmandments. The Psalmist seems to have thought \nthat necessary. Ps. 119: 6. It would gratify me much, \nif the archbishop would permit the Lord to say to his \npeople all he has to say. \n\n\n\n25. Relics. \n\n\n\nMy last was on the subject of images. Here are \nsome more things to which the Catholics, if they do \nnot exactly worship them, pay a respect and venera- \ntion which is very apt to run into worship. They are \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 95 \n\nrelics, so called. I have just come from the diction- \nary where I went to find the word. I consulted Cru- \nden's Concordance first, but I found no such word \nthere. That contains only the words which are used \nin the Bible. Relics came in fashion after the Bible \nwas written. In those old times they were not in the \nhabit of mutilating the bodies and disturbing the \nbones of the pious dead. They respected the remains \nof the departed by letting them alone, as king Josiah \nordered the people to do in the case of the bones of \nthe two prophets. They were going to disturb them, \nbut he told them to let them alone, 2 Kings, 23: 18. \nThis is the way in which Protestants respect the re- \nmains of the dead. It is rather queer that Catholics, \nin the lack of other scripture to support their doctrine \nof relics, appeal to this, and they will have it that \nJosiah, like themselves, entertained a great respect for \nrelics. The reference to that passage must be on \nthe principle of lucus, a non lucendo, [light from no \nlight.] I cannot account for it in any other way. \n\nBy the way, I did not even find relics in the con- \ncordance to the Apocrypha. But Johnson has it. A \ndictionary, you know, takes in all words. I find the \ngeneral signification of the word to be remains. In \nthe Catholic church it is used to designate \" the re- \nmains of the bodies, or clothes, of saints or martyrs, \nand the instruments by which they were put to death, \ndevoutly preserved, in honor to their memory ; — \nkissed, revered, and carried in procession.\" This is \nthe best definition of relics I can any where find. I \nam indebted for it to the Encyclopedia. But it is not \na perfect definition. There are some things preserved \nand revered as relics which don't exactly fall under \n\n\n\n96 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nit ; as, for example, the rope with which Judas hanged \nhimself, and the tail of Balaam's ass, both of which \nare kept and shown as relics. \n\nBut it may be asked if relics are not out of date. \nThe inquirer should know that nothing ever gets out \nof date with the Catholics. Always and every where \nthe same is their boast respecting their religion. Be \nsides, in the Baltimore publication, \" the Guide to \nHeaven,\" notice is taken of relics. It says that the \nsaints are to be honored and invocated, and that their \nrelics are to be respected. Well, and where is the \nharm of respecting relics ? I might retaliate and ask \nwhere is the use — what is the good of it 1 They must \nthink that devotion is promoted by these relics. But \nI cannot see how the spirit of devotion is to be pro- \nmoted by contemplating St. Joseph's axe and saw, or \nthe comb of the Virgin Mary, or even the finger of \nSt. Ann. If a person even knows that he is handling \na piece of the identical wood of the cross, it does not \noccur to me how that is to enkindle the flame of piety \nin his heart. The ancient method of exciting the \nglow of devotion was quite different. It was by me- \nditation on spiritual subjects. It was while the Psalm- \nist was musing, that \" the fire burned \" within him. \nBut it seems the Catholics come to the same thing by \nthe aid of their relics. Well, if devotion is kindled \nby relics, towards whom does it flame? Towards the \nsaints, to be sure, whose relics they are. These re- \nmains can only remind them of those to whom they \nonce belonged. So that it is the religious veneration \nof saints, not the worship of Jehovah, that is promoted \nby relics. All that can be said for them is, that they \nserve the cause of idolatry. \n\n\n\n\"' THOUGHTS ON POPERY. 97 \n\nBut I have been writing as if these relics were \ngenuine remains of the saints— the saw they show \nreally St. Joseph's, and the finger St. Ann's. The \nreader must excuse me for indulging such a supposi- \ntion. The very idea of such things being preserved, \nand transmitted through eighteen centuries, is prepos- \nterous. Their own writers acknowledge that many of \nthem are spurious— that bones are often consecrated, \nwhich, so far from belonging to saints, probably did \nnot belong to Christians, if indeed to human beings. \nIf this be so, how are we to know which are genuine? \nThere can be no internal evidence to distinguish \nthem. The bones of saints must look just like other \nbones. I know it is said there is an odor about the \ngenuine relics which does not belong to the remains \nof the vulgar dead. How that is I cannot say. I \nunderstand that, in the failure of the ordinary, external \nevidence, the Pope takes it on him to pronounce them \ngenuine. This is making short work of it. But some \nof the authorities of the church of Rome go so far as \nto say that it is not necessary the relics should be \ngenuine. It is enough that the worshiper has an in- \ntention of honoring the saints whose bones he sup- \nposes them to be. If this is correct doctrine, churches \nand chapels maybe readily furnished with relics, and \nthe defect in this particular, which Catholics deplore \nin regard to many of their establishments, be supplied \nwithout going farther than tne nearest graveyard. \n\nIf any one should still think that the relics may be \ngenuine, there is a consideration which, if I mistake \nnot, will carry complete conviction to his mind. It is, \nthat there are altogether too many of these relics, so \nthi * some of them must be spurious. Five devout pil- \n9 \n\n\n\n93 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ngrims happening to meet on their return from Rome, \nfound, on comparing their notes, that each had been \nhonored with a foot of the very ass upon which Christ \nrode to Jerusalem. Here were five feet for one ani- \nmal. Moreover, it is said that there are as many \npieces of the timber of the true cross in different parts \nof Europe, as would supply a town with fuel for a \nwinter ! \n\nBut, say they, were not the bones of Joseph pre- \nserved, and afterwards removed to Canaan. Undoubt- \nedly they were. But they were all kept together in \na coffin, and they were removed, not to be worshiped, \nbut to be buried. Joseph, being persuaded that God \nwould visit his people, and bring them out of Egypt \ninto Canaan, enjoined it on them to take his remains \nalong with them, for he wished them to repose in the \nland of promise. What this has to do with relics I \nhave not the discernment to perceive. How it bears \nany resemblance to the Catholic practice of disturbing \ncoffins and separating bone from bone, and cherishing \nthem as things to be revered, I cannot see. Yet no \nless a character than Cardinal Bellarmine appeals \nto this fact in support of their doctrine of relics. So \nalso they cite the case recorded in 2 Kings, 13: 21, of \nthe dead man that was revived by coming in contact \nwith the bones of Elisha. But how does this favor \nrelics ? The bones of Elisha were quietly reposing in \nthe place where they were laid at his death. Not one \ncf them had been touched. But if relics had been in \nvogue then, do you suppose the remains of such an \neminent saint as Elisha would have been left undis- \nturbed ? . ^ w ' «i \n\nI was surprised to find that Beliaim.)^ re^' \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 99 \n\nDent. 34 : 6, in support of relics. It is that remarka- \nble passage in which the Lord is said to have buried \nMoses in a valley in the land of Moab, and that no \nman knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. I sup- \npose the cardinal would have us infer from this, that \nif the place of Moses' body had been known, it would \nhave been dug up and converted into relics. And \ntherefore the Lord took care it should not be known. \nThe devil, it seems, from Jude, 5: 9, contended for it \nfor some such purpose as this, but he was foiled. The \nreference to this passage strikes me as rather an un- \nhappy one. \n\nBut were not handkerchiefs and aprons brought \nfrom the body of Paul, and miracles thereby wrought? \nYes, but they were not relics. Paul was living. Be- \nsides, who does not see that those articles of dress \nwere but signs to connect the miracles, in the minds \nof the people, with the person of God's inspired am- \nbassador ? Was any honor due to them? Do we \nhear of their being preserved and revered ? No. I do \nnot find them in any list of relics. They passed again \nimmediately into their former appropriate use as hand- \nkerchiefs and aprons. Finally, they appeal to the effi- \ncacy of the shadow of Peter, as related, Acts, 5 : 15, in \nproof of the virtue of relics. But as there appears to \nbe no substance in this argument, I leave it unanswer- \ned ; and have only to add, that I wonder not that infi- \ndels abound so in Catholic countries, when Christi- \nanity is held up before them as embracing and even \ngiving prominence to such doctrines as the veneration \nof relics, the invocation of saints, and many more like \nthem. \n\n\n\n100 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\nSeven Sacraments. \n\n\n\nWhat ! Seven ! How is this ? I read in the Bible of \nonly two. Whence have they the other Jive ? O, they \ncome from the other source of Christian doctrine, tra- \ndition. They were handed down. It is true, the apos- \ntles wrote of only two sacraments ; but Catholics \nwould have us believe that they preached and con- \nversed about five others : and those that heard them \nspoke of these sacraments to others ; and they to others \nstill ; and so. the story passed from lip to lip, until the \nCouncil of Trent, I believe it was, concluded that \nsomething had better be written about these five extra \nsacraments. I wonder that was never thought of be- \nfore. It is surprising that it never occurred to the \napostles, when they were writing their Epistles, to \nsay a syllable about these seven sacraments. It would \nseem to have been very thoughtless in them. I may be \nvery hard to please, but I cannot help feeling a desire \nto have Scripture, as well as unwritten tradition, in \nsupport of a doctrine or practice called Christian. I \nlike to be able to trace a doctrine al] the way back to \nthe Bible, and to find it originating in the very oracles \nof God themselves. Some think it sufficient, if they \ncan follow a doctrine back as far as the earlier fathers ; \nand especially if they can trace it to the Epistles of \nIgnatius. But this does not satisfy me. There are cer- \ntain other Epistles, rather more ancient, in which I \nwould like to find the doctrine. Ignatius was a very \ngood man, but he did not belong to the days of Paul \nby any means. Ignatius, Clemens, and all those good \niiathers, stood on the bank of the stream, but Paul and \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPEHY, 101 \n\nhis associates sat around the fountain. These last saw \ntruth in its rise ; the others only saw it in its flow. \nTrue, they were near the source, but they were not \nat ii ; and who knows not that a stream may be cor- \nrupted very near its source ? If I live eighteen or nine- \nteen miles distant from a certain fountain, whose \nstream passes by my residence, and I want to know \nwhether its waters have been corrupted, do I trace \nback the stream until I come within a mile or two of \nthe fountain, and there stop, concluding thai such as \nthe water is there, such it must be at the spring? Do \nI not rather go all the way up to the fountain ? Which \nought I to do ? It strikes me as very strange, that any \nshould suspend their search after truth a century or \ntwo this side of the Bible era. I think they should go \nall the way back to the Bible. \n\nBut I am wandering from my subject, which is the \nsacraments. What are those other Jive ? One is mar- \nriage. What ! marriage a sacrament ! How does it \nanswer to the definition of sacrament? What spiritual \nthing is signified by it ? Marriage is said to be \" ho- \nnorable in all,\" but nothing is said of its being a sa- \ncrament. If it be a sacrament, why are not priests, as \nwell as others, permitted to take this sacrament? \nWhy should the universal clergy be debarred the pri- \nvilege of this holy thing? Does its sacred character \nrender it unsuitable to those who fill the sacred office ? \n\nThe other day I was thinking — for, being a Protes- \ntant, I dare think even on religion — and this thought \noccurred to me : \" Is it possible that God has denied \nthe whole body of the clergy, of all nations and ages, \nthe privilege of knowing how he pitieth them that fear \nhim ; and of approaching to the experimental know- \n9* \n\n\n\n102 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nledge of his exceeding readiness to give the Holy \nSpirit to them that ask him — the privilege, in other \nwords, of being able to feel the force of some of the \nmost touching representations which he has made of \nhis dispositions towards his creatures, founded on the \nparental relation?\" I read in the Bible that \" like as \na father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them \nthat fear him.\" Now, can it be sinful for a minister \nof Jesus Christ to know by experience (the only way \nin which it can be fully known) how a father pitieth, \nand how, consequently, the Lord pitieth his people? \nI think it is man, and not God, that constitutes this \na sin. Again, does God make this general appeal to \nhis creatures, \" If ye then, being evil, know how to \ngive good gifts unto your children, how much more \nshall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to \nthem that ask him !\" — and has he at the same time \nexcluded a large class of his creatures from the privi- \nlege of ever knowing how well disposed parents are \nto bestow good things on their children? And has he \nlaid under this ban the very persons whom he has ap- \npointed to represent and testify of him to men? Has \nhe appealed to the parental feelings of his creatures, \nand then forbidden a large and important class of \nthem to know what those feelings are ? This is rather \nmore than I can believe. \n\nA minister of Jesus Christ may decline the privi- \nlege of marriage in his own case — he may not use thai \npower, as Paul, in his peculiar circumstances, did not, \nand as many a Protestant minister does not. This is \none thing ; but has God cut off the whole order of the \nclergy from even the right to marry? That is the \nquestion. And that is a very different thing. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 103 \n\n\n\n27. Trims instantiation. \n\n\n\nBecause Christ says, in reference to the bread, \" This \nis my body,\" the Catholics contend that the bread is \nchanged into the body of Christ ; and this they call \nTransubstantiation. And when we say that the pas- \nsage is not to be interpreted literally, but that the \nbread is merely indicated as the representative of \nChrist's body, they reply with wonderful confidence, \n\" Ah, but does he not say it is his body — does he say \nit represents his body merely — what authority have \nProtestants to bring in a figure here ?\" Now let me \nbe heard. I have no disposition to ridicule the doctrine \nof Transubstantiation, especially as it professes to be \nfounded on Scripture. I would give always a candid \nhearing to the claims of a doctrine which even seems \nto be held out of respect to the authority of the Bible. \nBut I must say that the Catholic does not carry his \nveneration for the Scriptures far enough ; or he is not \nconsistent in his interpretation of them. I think I can \nshow that, to be consistent with himself, he should be- \nlieve in many more than one Transubstantiation. Let \nhim turn to Luke, 22 : 19, 20. He reads in verse 19, \n\" This is my body.\" Therefore, he reasons, the bread \nbecomes the body of Christ. Very well. But read verse \n20 ; \" This cup is the new testament.\" Here is ano- \nther Transubstantiation. The cup or chalice becomes \nthe new testament. It is no longer gold or silver. \nbut a testament or will ! Does not Christ say it is the \nnew testament? What right have Catholics to bring \nin a figure here 7 The cup is a will— Christ says so. \nTo be sure, if it were carried to a probate office, it \n\n\n\n104 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwould be thought out of place, and an article for a sil \nversmith to prove, rather than a judge of probate. But \nno matter for that. What if the senses do tell you that \nit is still a cup, and the body still bread, will you be- \nlieve those liars, the senses ? But if they are such liars \nas this would make them out to be, why should I ever \nbelieve them — why should I believe them, when they \ntell me that I see in the Bible those words : \" This is \nmy body V* That testimony of the senses the Catholic \nbelieves ; but if they lie about the body, still declaring \nit is bread, after it has ceased to be any such thing, \nwhy may they not lie in regard to the letters which \nspell \" this is my body.\" Under the appearance of \nthese letters there may be something quite different, \neven as, under the appearance of bread in the Eucha- \nrist, is the body of Christ, as the Catholics affirm ! \n\nBut these are not the only instances of Transub- \nstantiation. The Bible is full of them. I find two cases \nof this change recorded in Revelation, 1 : 20; one in \nwhich certain stars become angels, and another in \nwhion certain candlesticks become churches. Do you \ndoabt it? Read for yourself: \" The seven stars are \nthe angels of the seven churches, and the seven can- \ndlesticks which thou sawest, are the seven churches.\" \nThe construction here is precisely similar to \" this is \nmy body.\" Christ is the speaker in each case, and he \nsays the stars are angels, and the candlesticks are \nchurches. Who has any right to imagine a figure \nhere? \n\nPerhaps every body does not know that Transub- \nstantiation is an Old Testament doctrine. But, ac- \ncording to this mode of interpretation, it is St. Paul, \nin 1 Cor. 10 : 4, alluding to the rock which Moses \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 105 \n\nsmote in the wilderness, says, \" That rock was \nChrist\" — not it represented, but it was Christ ! Away \nwith your figures. \n\nMany other examples of Transubstantiation might \nbe given from the Old Testament. Let two remark- \nable cases suffice, of which we have an account in Ge- \nnesis, 41 : 26, 27 : \" The seven good kine are seven \nyears, and the seven good ears are seven years,\" &c. \nHere seven cows and seven ears of corn are changed \ninto seven years of three hundred and sixty -five days \neach ! \n\nI suppose 1 might find many hundred examples of \nthese Transubstantiations. Now, does the Catholic \nbelieve in all of them? He ought, most undoubtedly \nhe ought, on the same reason that he believes in one. \nLet him then either believe in them all, or else never \nadduce, \" this is my body,\" in proof of the Transub- \nstantiation held in his church. I wish Mr. H. or some \nbody else would set me right, if I err in this argument. \n\n\n\n28. Haifa Sacrament. \n\nHalf a sacrament ! Who ever heard of such a thing ? \nA sacrament divided ! Yes, even so. The authorities \nof the Roman Catholic church, Pope, Council, &c. \nhave divided the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, \nwhich our Savior instituted the same night in which \nhe was betrayed ; and, ever since the Council of Con- \nstance, they have allowed the people only half of it. \n\n\n\n106 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nThey have told them that they must put up with the \nbread, for that they want the cup for themselves. But \ndid not Christ give the cup, in the original institution \nof the sacrament, to as many as he gave the bread 1 \nYes, Christ did. So say Matthew, Mark, Luke, and \nPaul. He took the cup, they tell us, and gave it to them ; \nand Matthew adds that he said in giving it, \" Drink ye \nall of it.\" Let not this be omitted by any disciple. It \nwould seem as if Christ foresaw what the Constance \nCouncil was going to do, and therefore said, \" Drink \nye all of it.\" Rome might with more plausibility have \ndenied her laity the other half of the sacrament — the \nbread. After the command to take the cup, there fol- \nlows the reason ; observe it : \" For this is my blood of \nthe new testament, which is shed for many, for the \nremission of sins.\" Now the Catholics say that only \npriests were present on that occasion, and that the giv- \ning of the cup to them can be no precedent for giving \nit to the laity. But, though we should admit that they \nwere at that time priests, I want to know if the reason \nfor partaking of the cup does not apply to others be- \nsides the clergy. Was not the blood shed for the laity \nas well as for the clergy 7 And if this is the reason \nwhy any should partake, it is equally a reason why all \nshould for whom the blood was shed. The precept and \nprivilege to drink is co-extensive with the reason an- \nnexed to it. Now I have not been in the habit of re- \ngarding the propitiatory death of Christ as a part of \nthe benefit of clergy — as one of the peculiar privileges \nof the priesthood. I object therefore to the restriction \nof the cup of blessing to the clergy. The symbol ot \nthe blood shed for many, for the remission of sins, I \nclaim to be my privilege as truly as that of any priest, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 107 \n\nChrist did not shed his blood for the sons of Levi \nalone. \n\nYes, Christ: gave it in both kinds — and what is more, \nthe Catholics themselves acknowledge that he did, and \nthat the primitive church administered it in both kinds, \nyet (hoc tamen non obstante are their very words) \nthey appoint that the people shall receive it but in one \nkind, that is, notwithstanding Christ and the primitive \nchurch. And they declare them accursed who teach \nor practice otherwise. What is this but anathema- \ntizing Christ? But surely they must have something \nto say in justification of their conduct in this respect. \nTo be sure they have. Do you not know that the Pope \nis the head of the church, and that he is infallible ; or \nif he is not, yet the firm Pope & Co. are ? Yes, but \nthere was Pope Gelasius, who lived' a good while be- \nfore. He having heard of some Manicheans who re- \nceived the bread without the wine, decided that such \na dividing of one and the same sacramer/t mi^'ht not \nbe done without a heinous sacrilege. \"Was not he head \nof the church too, and was not hp_ infallible ? If he was \nnot, I wonder how he could transmit infallibility. \n\nThis withholding of tne ^p is one of the boldest \n\nstrikes of that chur; ch> | can not help admiring the \n\ncourage it map^es^j. Who would have thought :t \n\ncouiu have suc . oeeded s0 we ll? I wonder they even \n\nundertor^ tQ carry ^ point However, they have done \n\nl i\" x .le-e was some murmuring against it, to be sure. \n\nHu.% s and Jerome made a noise about it, but they just \n\nburnt ;hem, and they made no more noise about it. \n\n, But are not Christians followers, that is, imitators \n\nof Christ 1 O yes. But this withholding of the cup is \n\nnot doia* like Christ. The Catholics say that Chngt \n\n\n\n108 THOUGHTS ON POPERV. , \n\nis with their church to the end of time. It strikes me \nhowever, that he could not have been with them a \nthat point in the progress of time when the Council o \nConstance sat. \n\nI do not know what others think, but for my own \npart I don't believe that any power on earth has a \nright to limit a grant of Jesus Christ, or, in other \nwords, to take away what he has given. He said of \nthe cup, \" drink ye all of it\" — and I, for one, will do \nit, and I think all ought — and if the Catholics will \ncome over to us, they too shall have the cup of salva- \ntion. O, if I had the ear of the Catholics now, I \nwould not ask them to confess their sins to me, but \nthere is a thing I would tell them : I would say, My \ndear Catholic brethren, you never remember Christ in \nhis sacrament. You only half remember him. He \nsaid, eat and drink in remembrance of me. You only \ndo one. You do not show the Lord's death ; for Pau„ \nsays, \" as often as ye eat this bread and drink this \ncup, ye do show the Lord's death.\" It is only they \nwho do both thai make this exhibition. Christ's \ndeath is not shown by the bread merely, but by boti \nthe elements. I know your church says that the \nblood is in the body, and that, \\v taking one, both are \ntaken, for that \"Christ was entii* and truly under \neach kind,\" as the council decrees. But how came \nChrist himself to know nothing of this ? Did he do a \nsuperfluous thing in giving the cup 1 What if the \nblood is in the body, and the bread being changed \ninto the body, we take the one in taking the other, \nwe want the blood separated from the body, the \nblood shed. The blood of Christ is not an atone- \nment for sin, except as it is shed. Catholics, you \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 109 \n\nnever celebrate the Lord's Supper. In the Lord's \nSupper there was a cup. In yours there is none. \nYou hold that the discourse in John, 6, relates to an \natonement, and there it is written, \" except ye eat the \nflesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have \nno life in you.\" Now, according to his own princi- \nples, you have no life in you, for you do not drink \nhis blood. The most you can be said to do is, that \nyou eat it in connection with his body ! One thing \nmore, Catholic brethren. There can be no such thin* \nin reality as half a sacrament. To divide a sacrament \nis to destroy it. What follows then, but that the \nwhole sacrament is taken from you ! Look at this — \njust fix your mind five minutes on this subject, and \nyou are, I do not say what, but you are no longer a \nCatholic. Five minutes. That is all. But you say, \nI must not doubt ; yet you may think, and God the \njudge will never condemn you for exercising your \nmind. \n\n\n\n39. Extreme Unction. \n\nWhen it looks as if one was going to die, then by \nall means let the priest be sent for: and when he has \ncome, let him receive the dying man's confession, (but \nif the priest should be long in coming, I would advise \nhim to confess to God. I think it would answer as \nwell. Indeed I prefer that near way to pardon, to the \nother circuitous route) — and let him then in that ex- \ntremity anoint him with oil ! This is extreme unction \n10 \n\n\n\n110 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n— a sacrament — one of the seven! I think they must \nhave been at a loss to make up the seven, v/hen they \npressed this into the service. \n\nThere don't seem to be a great deal of religion in it; \nnor indeed any excess of common sense. But to speak \nof it as constituting a preparation for death is really \nshocking. What ! a preparation for dying, and for \nmeeting and answering to God, procured by the in- \ntervention and unction of a human priest — done by \noil ! Truly this is an easy way of getting to heaven, \nparticularly where priests are plenty. I do not won- \nder that the Catholic religion is popular. This is in- \ndeed prophesying smooth things. We Protestants \nhave no such doctrine to preach. When we are \ncalled to see a sick person, we candidly acknowledge \nthat there is nothing we can do for him which shall \ninfallibly secure his salvation. We tell him what he \nmust do : that he must repent and believe in Christ : \nand then Ave ask God to undertake and do for him. It \nis only on certain conditions that we can assure him \nof his salvation. The priests say that they can in- \nsure the person's salvation ; but to any such power as \nthat we do not pretend. \n\nBut have not the Catholics plain Scripture for their \ndoctrine of extreme unction ? If they have ; if it is \nwritten, and not merely handed down, then I am at \nonce a believer in it. Let us see : they adduce two \npassages in support of their dogma, Mark, 6 : 13, and \nJames, 5 : 14. The first is historical. It affirms that \nthe apostles \" anointed with oil many that were sick \nand healed them.\" The other is hortatory. \" Is any \nsick among you ? let him call for the elders of the \nchurch ; and let them pray over him, anointing him \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. Ill \n\nwith oil in the name of the Lord,\" that is, doing what \nthe apostles are represented by Mark as having done; \nand doing it, as appears from the next verse, with the \nsame end in view, viz. healing. Now, what authority \nfor the sacrament of extreme unction is there here ? \nHere is indeed an anointing with oil by an ecclesias- \ntic. But who does not see in how many particulars, \nand how widely this anointing differs from the ex- \ntreme unction of the Catholics 1 Their anointing pro- \nceeds on the supposition that the person is going to \ndie ; and could his recovery be foreseen, it would be \nomitted. But the anointing practised by the apostles \nand elders of the church was in order to the recovery \nof the person, and was in every case connected with \nhis recovery. Their anointing was the attendant and \ntoken of a miraculous cure. It held precisely the \nsame place with Christ's making clay of spittle, and \nanointing therewith the eyes of the blind man ; or \nwith Naaman's being directed to go and wash seven \ntimes in Jordan. It was, like each of these, an exter- \nnal, and in itself inefficacious sign of a miraculous re- \ncovery ; and even now there is no objection to the use \nof the sign, if the thing signified is to be expected. \nLet the priests anoint with abundance of oil all their \nsick, if they can accompany that unction with such \na prayer of faith as shall save the sick. But if the \nmiraculous recoveries have ceased, let there be a do- \ning away of the sign. As soon as any sign becomes \ninsignificant, let it cease to be used. Extreme unc- \ntion is now a sign of nothing. There was no use in \ngoing down into the pool of Bethesda after the angel \nhad ceased to pay his periodical visit to it. So in this \ncase, there being now no healing, there need be, and \n/here should be. no anointing. \n\n\n\n112 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nHow the priests now differ in their use of the cil \nfrom those whose successors they pretend to be ! The \napostles and elders anointed persons with a view to \ntheir living ; but the priests with a view to their dy- \ning. The former would not anoint, if they foresaw \nthe person was to die ; the latter will not, if they fore- \nsee that he is to live. How at odds they are ! How \nScripture and tradition do quarrel ! And the worst of \nit is, there is no such thing as bringing about a recon- \nciliation between them. \n\nAmong the doctrines of the Catholic church, I am \nat a loss whether to give the palm to this or to purga- \ntory. Purgatory teaches the doctrine of salvation by \nJire. Extreme unction, the doctrine of salvation by \noil. There does not seem to be much Christianity in \neither. Extreme unction is, however, the smoothest \ndoctrine. Decidedly so. Jesus Christ came by water \nand blood. The salvation he proclaims is by these; \nand the sacraments he instituted, are Baptism and \nthe Lord's Supper. These signify something: the \nfirst, regenerat ion; the second, the propitiation made \nfor our sins. \n\n\n\n30. Doing Penance. \n\n\n\nInsufferable ! What ? Why, that the Catholic trans- \nlators of the Bible should render the Greek word, \nwhich signifies repentance, (metanoia,) by the phrase \ndoing penance ! I would not willingly be uncharita- \nble, imputing a bad motive where a good one might have i \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 113 \n\nbeen present. But I must say that I know not how \nto reconcile this rendering of metanoia with their in- \n\negrity as translators. I cannot help believing that \n♦hey knew better. Could they have supposed that \nthey were selecting the most judicious method of con- \nveying the mind of the Spirit as expressed in that \nword, when they concluded on rendering it doing pen- \nance ? Why, in the name of common sense, did they \nuse two English words (coining one of them more- \nover for the occasion) to convey the meaning of one \nGreek word? Was there any necessity for it ? Was \nthere no single English word that would express the \nsense? There was repentance, the word adopted by \nthe translators of the common English Bible. What \nobjection lay to the use of that ? Why was that passed \nby ; and especially why was it passed by in order to \ngive a preference. to such a phrase as doing penance? \nIf they had disliked repentance, they might with more \npropriety have employed the word reformation. It \nwould seem as if they were anxious to avoid the use \nof any word which expressed or implied either sorrow \nor amendment, and therefore they fixed on the phrase \ndoing penance. I am mistaken if these translators \nhave not a heavy account to give. This single ren- \ndering, if it were the only exceptionable one, would be \nas a millstone about the neck of that translation. Just \nthink of the false impression, and that on a point of \nthe highest moment, made on the minds of so many \nmillions by this one egregiously erroneous version. \n\nContemplate the state of the case. Gcd, in pros- \npect of the judgment day, and by the terror of it, com- \nmands all men every where to do a certain thing, \nActs, 17: 30, 31; and Christ says that except they \n10* \n\n\n\n114 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndo it, they shall perish. Luke, 13 : 3. This thing God \nexpresses by the Greek term metanoia. But all do \nnot understand Greek. Wherefore, for the admonition \nand instruction of those Catholics who read only ihe \nEnglish language, and who cannot be persuaded of \nthe sin of reading the Bible, it becomes necessary to \nrender that word into English. Certain persons un- \ndertake to do it, that is, to interpret the mind of God \nas expressed by metanoia. And what do they make \nit out to mean ? Hear, hear ! Doing 'penance ! That \nis it, they say. \" Do the penance which your priest \nappoints, after you have made your confession to him, \nand that is all.\" It is no such thing. This is a mis- \nrepresentation of the Almighty. This is not the sub- \nject of the command and warning to which reference \nhas been made, And to suppose that it is on account \nof this that angels rejoice, i. e. when a sinner does \npenance, is truly farcical. O what a translation ! \n\"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that does \npenance.\" Truly angels must be easily made to re- \njoice, if this be the case ! How it sounds ! How \noffensive to the very ear, and how much more to the \nenlightened judgment, is this rendering ! \" God com- \nmands all to do penance. Except ye do penance, ye \nshall all likewise perish. He is not willing that any \nshould perish, but that all should return to penance /\" \nShocking! Away with such a translation from the \nearth. The Douay Bible is not God's Bible ; for it \npurposely misrepresents him in a main point, viz: \non the article of repentance. Here is a translation of \nmetanoia implying no sorrow for sin, no change of \nmind, (which the word literally signifies,) nor any \nmoral reformation ; but only the doing of certain ex- \n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 115 \n\nternal, and generally puerile, things prescribed by a \npriest ; all which may be done without any internal \nexercise — without any emotion of any kind. The \nword, according to the Catholics, makes no requisition \non the heart whatever. And truly, a man may be a \ngood Catholic without ever feeling any thing, unless \nit be the bodily pain of self-inflicted penance. And \nevery one knows that thinking is not necessary to con- \nstitute a good Catholic. Wherefore a man may be a \ngood Catholic without either thinking or feeling , that \nis, without any exercise of either mind or heart. All \nthat seems requisite is mechanical action. Maelzel, \nthe constructor of automatons, could almost make one. \nIs this uncharitable ? It is true, and ought to be said. \nIt ought to be known and proclaimed that the religion \nof the church of Rome overlooks the reason, con- \nscience, and heart of man, addressing no appeal to \nthem, and indeed making no use of them. Is it then \nthe religion of the Holy Ghost ? Is this the Christi- \nanity of Christ? It cannot be. \n\nI ought perhaps to say that I find, in one place in \nthe Douay Testament, the Greek metanoeite translated \ncorrectly, repent. It occurs in Mark 1 : 15. Whether \nit was done in a moment of relenting, or through in- \nadvertence, I cannot say. It was never repeated that \nI can find. Perhaps the translators had to do penance \nfor presuming to render the word in that one case cor- \nrectly. \n\nDo you not see what a difference it makes to the \npriests, if you give it out that repentance is the requi- \nsition ? Then a sinner will be saved if he repent, irre- \nspective of the priest. The great High Priest that is \npassed into the heavens will see to the case of every true \n\n\n\n116 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\npenitent. But if the requisition be doing penance, in \nthat case, there being something necessary which the \npriest prescribes, he has the poor sinner completely in \nhis power. It makes the salvation to depend on the \nact of the Utile low priest. Do you wonder that the \npriests insist on the translation do penance, and forbid \nthe people to read in a Bible which requires them to \nrepent ? \n\nThere is a precious note in the Douay connnected \nwith this subject, which may afford me a topic here- \nafter. \n\n\n\n31. The Hardest Religion. \n\nAmong the compliments which our brethren of the \nChurch of Rome pay to their religion, this is one. \nThey say it is the hardest religion — that no other re- \nligion requires so much of its votary. Hence they \nwould have it inferred that theirs must be the divine \nand only true religion. The yoke being so hard, and \nthe burden so heavy, they must of course be Christ's. \n\nI shall examine this claim to the precedence in point \nof difficulty. And something I am prepared to concede \nto the Church of Rome on this score. There is a part \nof her faith which I acknowledge it is exceedingly \nhard to receive. It requires a powerful effort doubtless \nto believe the doctrine of transubstantiation, viz. that \nthe bread and wine of the sacrament are changed into \n* * * what? The body and blood of Christ? No; \n\n\n\not \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 117 \n\nthat alone, but also into his sold and divinity ! Yes, \nit is hard to believe it is so, when one sees it is not so, \nand knows it cannot be so. It is hard to disbelieve at \nwill those long-tried and faithful servants, the senses ; \nand especially that first of the five, the sight. There is \ndifficulty in the Catholic religion truly. It puts a tre- \nmendous strain on the mind. \n\nThere is also her doctrine about the necessity of bap- \ntism to salvation, which some of us find it very hard \nto believe. One reason of our difficulty is that that \ndoctrine bears so hard upon the heathen, and particu- \nlarly on the immense multitude of infants who every \nwhere die without baptism. According to the doctrine \nof Rome, that baptism is indispensable to salvation, \nthey are all lost just for the want of a little water! \nPoor things, they fare no better than the thief on the \ncross who died without baptism. They get no farther \nthan Paradise the first day. It is a hard religion. This \ndoctrine is cruelly hard upon children ; as her doctrine \nthat money, by the purchase of prayers and masses, re- \nleases souls from Purgatory, is hard upon the poor. \n\nSo much for the difficulty of her faith. But all of \nthat is not so hard ; as for example, her doctrine of in- \ndulgences. It is never hard to be indulged. There is \nno hardship, but very great convenience for a delin- \nquent sinner to have such a bank to draw upon, as the \naccumulated merits of the saints in by-gone ages, who \ndid more than they needed for their own salvation, \nhaving loved God with considerably more than \" all \nthe heart, and soul, and strength, and mind !\" This \ndoctrine does not make the Roman Catholic religion \na hard one — neither does the doctrine of venial sins. \nYou know they hold that there are some sins whose \n\n\n\n118 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwages is not death. They are excusable — mere pec- \ncadillos. We recognise no such sins. We think with \nSt. Paul, that \" cursed is every one that continueth \nnot in all things which are written in the book of the \nlaw to do them.\" \n\nBut perhaps when the Catholics speak of their re- \nligion as a hard one, they refer not so much to its faith \nas to its practice. It is what they have to do that is \nso hard. But why do they speak of it as hard ? It looks \nas if it was a task to them — as if they do not find their \nsweetest and purest delight in it. It would appear as \nif they did not esteem the service of God as much their \nprivilege as their duty. One would suppose, to hear \nthem talk, that the commandments of God are grievous. \nI am truly sorry for them that Christ's yoke, which, he \nsays, is easy, they find to be so galling to them. We, \nProtestants, never think of speaking of our religion as \nhard. \"Wisdom's ways\" we find to be \"pleasant- \nness, and all her paths peace.\" Our language is : \" O \nhow love I thy law ! How sweet are thy words unto \nmy taste ! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth !\" \nBut it seems not to be so with Catholics. I have been \nstruck with surprise to hear even the most devout of \nthem speak of the requirements of their religion as \nthings which they must comply with. \" I must,\" is \nthe language which they use in reference to almost \nevery thing of a religious kind that they do. I have \nthought with myself how it is possible that their hearts \ncan be in their religion, if they esteem it such a hard- \nship. How will heaven be able to make them happy, \nif the exercises and acts on earth, most akin to those \nof heaven, are so irksome that they engage in them \nonly from sheer necessity ? \n\n\n\n' \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POFERY. 119 \n\nBut I must advert to some of the hard practices \nwhich the Catholic religion requires of her votaries. \nThere is that practice of confessing to the priest, is \nnot that hard ! Truly it is. I think I should find it \nhard to tell every thing, even the most secret thoughts, \nto any body called a priest. And then to have to per- \nform whatever penance he might please to prescribe. \nYes, it is hard — so hard, and so absurd too that God \nhas never required it at our hands. He says to the \nsinner, come right to me with your broken heart, and \nmake your confession to me, for he is \" in Christ re- \nconciling the world unto himself, not imputing then- \ntrespasses unto them.\" \n\nAgain, fasting is reckoned among the hard things \nof the Catholic religion — and indeed it is hard not to \neat when one is hungry. But that is not their idea of \nfasting. Their idea of fasting is in accordance with \nwhat St. Paul says to Timothy in his prediction con- \ncerning them, an \" abstaining from meats\" or \"what- \nsoever is sold in the shambles.\" Now there is nothing \nso very hard in that restriction. He must be very dif- \nficult who cannot satisfy his appetite out of all the va- \nriety of the vegetable kingdom, when he has more- \nover the liberty of the entire fish market. \n\nBut there is one thing about the Catholic religion \nin view of which I suppose I must admit it to be the \nhardest religion. It belongs strictly neither to faith \nnor 'practice. You will guess that I have in my mind — \nPurgatory. Now, as a doctrine, there are many things \nabout it hard to be believed, as, for example, that ma- \nterial fire should be able to act on an immaterial spirit, \nand thereby purify it too. But hard as purgatory is to \nbe believed, it is still harder to be suffered. Yes ; it is \n\n\n\n120 \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\nhard, after having gone through the whole routine of \nthe sacraments, and lived long a good Catholic, then \nto die, and go into an intense fire. It is so hard that I, \nfor my part, prefer the religion of poor Lazr.rus, whom \nthe angels took straight to heaven ; and of the penitent \nmalefactor, who spent a part of the day on which he \ndied, in Paradise. By the way, St. Paul could not \nhave been thinking of Purgatory when he said, \" to \nme to die is gain.'''' But I forget that he lived before \nthe time of the Catholic religion. \n\n\n\n3'4. More about Penance. \n\nLet us hear both sides. In my former article on this \nsubject, I objected to the translation doing penance, \nin the Douay Bible. Bu*\" have the Catholics nothing \nto say in justification of their rendering? I suppose \nthat whatever they have to say is expressed in a cer- \ntain note on Matthew, 3:2. \" Do penance, for the \nkingdom of heaven is at hand,\" is the edifying trans- \nlation of the passage. Our attention is then directed \nto this note, \"agite poenitentiam, metanoeite,\" which \nword, according to the use of the Scriptures and the \nholy fathers, does not only signify repentance and \namendment of life, but also \" punishing past sins by \nfasting and such like penitential exercises.\" This is \nthe sage note. \n\nNow here is an acknowledgment that the ideas of \nrepentance and amendment are intended in the ori- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 121 \n\nginalword. Why then is a translation of it adopted, \nwhich excludes both repentance and amendment. If \nthe original iucludes them, yet their translation does \nnot. A man may do penance, and yet neither repent \nnor amend — neither be sorry nor better. These trans- \nlators must have thought that repentance and amend- \nment, though included in the original word, were of \nlittle importance, otherwise they would not have sup- \npressed them in their translation. They must have \njudged them too insignificant to be taken notice of in \ntheir standard version ! As for us Protestants, we \nthink that to be sorry and to reform are very impor- \ntant parts of repentance. \n\nBut, besides repentance and amendment, they say \nthe original word signifies \" punishing past sins, by \nfasting,\" &c. This is their assertion. Where are \ntheir proofs ? I would like to see some of them, for \nthe dictionaries tell us another story. Well, they ap- \npeal to the Scriptures and the fathers, \" according to \nthe use of the Scriptures and the holy fathers.\" Here \nare two authorities, though of very unequal weight \nin my estimation. I wish these translators had said \nwhere the Scriptures use this word in their sense. I \nsuppose they would, if they had been able. The truth \nis, the word is never so used. It does not include this \nidea of theirs. Punishing ! Repentance don't mean \npunishing. Punishing past sins ! This is no very \neligible phrase. It is quite too figurative for an ex- \nplanatory note. And punishing them, how? By fast- \ning. How does fasting punish sin? I cannot see \nhow any fasting punishes sin; but I am sure the Cath- \nolic fasting does not. Do you know what Catholics \nmean by fasting ? Not abstaining from food. No, to \n11 \n\n\n\n122 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nbe sure. But changing their kind of food. Only ab- \nstain from meats, according to the prediction, 1 Tim. \n4: 3, and you may eat what else you please. Fasting, \naccording to the opinions held by Catholics in the re- \ngion of country where I live, and I suppose it is so \nelsewhere, consists in reducing one's self down to the \nlow diet offish, (after ail their kinds,) eggs, oysters, \nterrapins, with all manner of vegetables, and every \nvariety of desert ! That is fasting, because there is \nno butchers' meat eaten. You may eat what is sold \nanywhere else but in the shambles. Now I cannot \nsee any thing very punitive in such fasting. A man's \nsin must be exceedingly sensitive to feel the infliction \nof such abstinence. 1 do not believe that sin is to be \nstarved out of the soul in this way. \n\nIt is well enough sometimes to try the value of an \nexplanation upon a passage in which the thing ex- \nplained occurs, as for example, \" God now command- \neth all men every where to punish their past sins by \nfasting and such like penitential exercises.\" How \ndoes that sound ? Do you really think that it is what \nthe Lord meant. \n\n\n\n33. A Fast-Day Dinner. \n\nSome plain, honest people may be surprised at the \nheading of this article, because it implies a dinner of \nsome sort on a day of fasting, whereas, according to \ntheir old-fashioned notions there should be no dinner \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 123 \n\nat all on a fast day. And truly fasting did formerly \nimply 'partial, at least, if not total abstinence from \nfood during the period of the fast. It was thought \nthat eating to the full was incompatible with genuine \nfasting. Indeed it was considered that eating at all \nbroke a fast. I suppose no one doubts that Daniel, \nNehemiah, Ezra, and the pious Jews in general, ab- \nstained entirely from food on their days of fasting. \nWho has an idea that they ate any dinner on those \ndays ? But mind has marched a great way since \nthose men flourished. Whether its march has always \nbeen, forward, I leave others to determine. Now, ac- \ncording to the views which prevail in that church \nwhich cannot go wrong, and which don't make mis- \ntakes even when she contradicts herself, abstinence \nis not essential to a fast ; and a fast-day dinner, so \nfar from being no dinner at all, as some puritanical \nchristians still contend it should be, is a rare repast — \none of the very best dinners in the whole week. I \nought to say here that some Protestants have imbibed \nthis doctrine cf the infallible church, and very com- \nplacently practice according to it. We have a great \nmany Protestants among us who do not protest as \nthoroughly or as strenuously as we think they should. \nWhat put me in mind of this subject was the fol- \nlowing incident. As I was sitting at table the other \nday, the topic of conversation was a very delicate pre- \nparation of eggs. I took no particular interest in it, \nuntil one of the company remarked that when she re- \nsided in the family of Mr. A., a distinguished Catholic, \nthat dish was always a part of their fast-day dinner. \nThis arrested my attention. Fast-day dinner ! ex- \nclaimed I. Who ever heard of a dinner on a fast-day ? \n\n\n\n124 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nIt is not possible they have a dinner at Mr. A.'s on \nfast- days ! Dinner ! replied the person. I never desire \nto eat a better. This made me curious to enquire what \nconstituted the fast-day dinner at Mr. A.'s table. Well, \nsaid she, to begin, a rock fish dressed with eggs and \nbutter, (no mean affair this where there is an appe- \ntite,) eggs prepared in two ways, and oysters. They \ndispense with vegetables I presume, said I. O no, she \nrejoined ; and to this I readily assented, for I had for- \ngotten myself in supposing that they dispensed with \nvegetables. Timothy does net prophecy of the anti- \nchrist that he shall command to abstain from vegeta- \nbles, but only from \" meats, which God hath created \nto be received with thanksgiving.\" Well, surely, said I, \nthey have no desert on their fast-days ? How you talk, \nsaid she ; they have the very best, and every variety. \nAnd do they call that a. fast-day dinner? and do they \nsuppose that they fast when they eat it? Certain- \nly, said she. Well, I suppose it is because they eat \nvery sparingly of what is set before them. You are \nmistaken, replied my informant, quantity has nothing \nto do in the matter. It is not the quantity eaten that \nconstitutes a fast, but the kind. There the conversa- \ntion ended, but my thoughts proceeded on. And this, \nthought I, is fasting. So the church teaches, and mil- \nlions on their way to the judgment believe it. What \ndupes ! how deceived to suppose that this is fasting. \nIf not deceived themselves, what insulters of God, to \nendeavor to palm it off on him as fasting ! A change \nof food is fasting! To eat differently on one day \nfrom what we do on other days, is to keep a fast I \nAdmirable doctrine ! \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 125 \n\n\n\n34. The Mass. \n\n\n\nThere is a great deal of the phraseology of the Ro- \nmish church which is not a little peculiar, not to sav \noutlandish. The Christian reader who is not very- \nfamiliar with other authors than those who by inspi- \nration wrote the Bible, does not know what to make \nof these terms when he comes across them in books \nprofessing to treat of Christianity. \" The mass, the \nmass,\" he repeats to himself, \" what is that ?•' He has \nread his Bible through and through, but he has found \nnothing about the mass there. He thinks it ought to \nbe there, if it is any part of Christianity. Why should \napostolical Christians have been silent on a subject \non which those who claim to be their direct descend- \nants are so loquacious ? He does not even meet in \nhis Bible with any doctrine or rite to which the word \nmass seems at all appropriate. He would not object \nto the word, if he could find the thing there. It never \noccurs to him that by the mass Catholics can mean \nthe transaction recorded by Matthew in his 26th chap- \nter, and by three other sacred writers, and which we \ncommonly speak of as the institution of the Lord's \nSupper. But that is what they mean by it. Then, \nthey tell us, the first mass was said. In the Douay \nCatechism we find these questions and answers : \nQ. Who said the first mass ? A. Jesus Christ. \nQ. When did he say it ? A. At his last supper. Here \nit is, question and answer for it, if not chapter and \nverse. The Biblical reader will please to bear in \nmind, whenever hereafter he reads the narrative of \n11* \n\n\n\n126 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe transaction, that the writer is giving an account \nof the first mass that was ever said I \n\nBut they may call it mass, if they please, and they \nmay speak of Christ's instituting the ordinance as his \nsaying mass. Words are nothing, though it is cer- \ntainly best that they should be well chosen and fitly \napplied. If they mean by their mass what we mean \nby the Lord's Supper, that is the main point. But the \ntruth is, they mean by it as different a thing as you \ncan well imagine. Just hear what \" the Christian's \nGuide\" says on the subject: \"I profess likewise, that \nin the mass there is offered to God a true, proper and \npropitiatory sacrifice for the living and the dead.\" \nChrist offered it first when he said mass, and every \npriest now offers it when he says mass. Well, read- \ner, you and I must not judge rashly. We will look \nagain at the account given of the matter in the Bible, \nand we will see if we can find in it any thing of the \nnature of a sacrifice. He \"took bread and blessed, \nand brake and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, \neat.\" And then he took the cup and gave it. Where \nis any sacrifice here, and especially where is any pro- \npitiatory sacrifice ? Does the account we have of \nsacrifices in the Old Testament, and in the epistle to \nthe Hebrews, accord with what was done on this oc- \ncasion ? The Catholics say that when Christ perform- \ned these actions with the bread and wine, he offered \nhimself to God as a propitiatory sacrifice. How \ndoes what he did, bear even the least resemblance to \nthe offering of a propitiatory sacrifice ? There was no \nbloodshed — no life taken, as was the case in all pro- \npitiatory sacrifices under the law, and in the sacrifice \nwhich Christ made of himself on the cross, and which \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 127 \n\nhas always, by Pagans, as well as the disciples of the \ntrue religion, been considered as essential to a pro- \npitiatory sacrifice. I confess there was something \noffered. Bread and wine were offered. These might \nconstitute a eucharistic sacrifice, but never a propi- \ntiatory one. If things of this kind can constitute a \npropitiatory sacrifice, then I do not see why Cain, who \noifered \" of the fruit of the ground,\" was not accepted \nequally with Abel who brought to the Lord \" of the \nfirstlings of his flock.\" But whatever was offered, it \nwas not offered to God. A sacrifice, to be a sacrifice, \nmust be offered to God, as even the quotation from \nthe Christian's guide recognizes. But Avhat was of- \nfered in this case was offered to the disciples. \" Take, \neat,\" he said to them. It is true the bread and wine \nwere offered them as the memorial of a sacrifice in \nwhich the body of Christ was to be broken and his \nblood shed ; but the memorial of a sacrifice is not a \nsacrifice. The emblematical representation of a thing \nis not the thing itself. Plainly there was no sacrifice \nin this transaction. \n\nBut again : if Christ in the eucharist offered him- \nself a sacrifice to God, as they affirm ; and afterwards, \nas all admit, offered himself on the cross, then he twice \noffered himself; and if so, the writer of the epistle to \nthe Hebrews was under a great mistake, for he says, \n\" Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many,\" \n\" we are sanctified through the offering of the body of \nJesus Christ once for all.\" Heb. 9 : 28, and 10 : 10. \nHere is a contradiction. Which shall we believe? \nThe apostle of the Gentiles or the Catholic church 3 \nIf Christ really offered himself in the eucharist — on \nthe table, as Catholics contend — there was no need \n\n\n\n128 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof his offering himself on the cross. His twice offer- \ning himself was quite unnecessary. If \" in the mass \nthere is offered to God a true, proper, and propitia- \ntory sacrifice,\" what need of another on Calvary? \nOne \" true, proper, and propitiatory sacrifice \" is all \nthat is wanted. \n\nBut if the Catholic doctrine be true, Christ has been \noffered not twice only, but innumerable times. In \nevery mass that ever has been said, he has been of- \nfered. He is offered to-day as really as he was on \nthe day of his crucifixion. He is offered on earth \nwhile he is interceding in heaven. Both parts of the \npriest's office, the propitiation and the intercession, \nare going on at the same time — a thing unheard of in \nthe history of the priesthood ! Did the Jewish high \npriest, the type of Jesus, our great high priest, exe- \ncute both parts of his office at the same moment? \nMoreover, according to this doctrine, there was no \npropriety in Christ's saying on the cross, \" It is finish- \ned,\" for it is not finished yet, nor will it be, till the \nlast mass is said. It depends on the will of the priest \nwhen it shall be finished. This to me is shocking \ndoctrine. What ! Can a priest cause Christ to be of- \nfered just when he pleases ? My mind recoils from \nthe conviction. There is what by a figure is called \nthe \" crucifying of the Son of God afresh,\" but this \nappears like doing it literally. \n\nI know the Catholics make a distinction here. They \nsay, and let them be heard, that Christ in the eucha- \nrist is offered in an unbloody manner, while the sa- \ncrifice of the cross was bloody. And this distinction \nthey lay great stress on. But I wonder they see not \nthe consequence of this explanation — that if the sacri- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 129 \n\nfice is unbloody, it cannct be propitiatory, which, ne- \nvertheless, they say it is. Unbloody, yet propitiatory! \nWho ever heard of an unbloody propitiatory sacrifice? \nWhat Jew ? What Pagan ? A propitiatory sacrifice, \nbe it remembered, is a sacrifice for atonement — a sa- \ncrifice with a view to the remission of sins. This all \nacknowledge. But \" without shedding of blood is no \nremission,\" Heb. 9 : 22 — consequently no propitiatory \nsacrifice. Now here is no shedding of blood, they \nsay; yet remission is effected by it ! It is a 'propitia- \ntory sacrifice, notwithstanding. Who does not see \nthe contradiction? They must take back their admis- \nsion that it is unbloody, or else acknowledge that it is \nnot propitiatory. They cannot hold to both without \nself-contradiction. \n\nThe reader sees that this doctrine of the Catholic \nchurch subverts that great principle in the divine go- \nvernment, that \" without shedding of blood is no re- \nmission \" — a principle not merely inscribed on the \npage of the Bible, but written with the finger of God \non the mind of man. The conscience of the veriest \npagan reads it there ? If a sacrifice may be propitia- \ntory, though unbloody, never a victim that bled under \nthe Jewish economy, need have been slain ; and \nChrist need not have died! The doctrine of the mass \ntherefore, that a sacrifice may be propitiatory, though \nbloodless, undermines the Gospel. \n\nOne inference more from their doctrine I must not \nforget. It is this. If in the eucharist a propitiatory \nsacrifice is offered, then a propitiatory sacrifice may be \neffected by mere action. No passion whatever is ne- \ncessary to it — expiation is made without any suffer- \ning — made by a mere doing ! Is this truth ? Can an- \n\n\n\n130 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ntiquity be pleaded for this doctrine 1 Can that be the \noldest religion which cherishes and teaches it? \n\nThere is no sacrifice in what is improperly called \nthe mass — least of all a propitiatory sacrifice. The \ndoctrine is error — error in a capital particular — on a \nfundamental point — gross and most pernicious error. \nWhat then shall we think of a church which not only \ninculcates it, but gives it the greatest prominence, and \nmakes the service connected with it the main thing in \nits religion? I have my thoughts. The reader must \nhave his. \n\nI reserve some things on the mass for a future com- \nmunication. \n\n\n\n35. More about tlic Mass. \n\nBut before I proceed to the Mass, I wish to add a \nword about relics. In my communication on that \nsubject, I referred to Bellarmine as quoting from the \nOld Testament in support of the doctrine of relics. \nSince then, I have recollected a fact which makes me \nwonder that a Catholic should ever appeal to the Old \nTestament for authority in favor of relics. The reader \nprobably knows that no relics are more common among \nthe Catholics, and none more highly valued than the \nbones of deceased saints and martyrs. Now, if Num- \nbers, 19: 16, be consulted, it will be found that under \nthe Jewish dispensation, if a person so much as touch- \ned the bone of a man, he was ceremonially unclean \nfor seven days, and had to submit to a tedious pro- \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS Ota POPERY. 131 \n\ncess of purification before he could be restored to the \nprivileges of God's worship, from which he had been \ntemporarily excluded in consequence of that contact. \nThis being the case, it is pretty certain that the bones \nof the dead were not handled and cherished as relics \nby the pious Jews, as they are by our Catholics. There \nwas nothing which the Israelite more carefully avoid- \ned than some of those very things which are now \ncarried about and shown as relics. Therefore, I say, \nit is not best to go so far back as the Old Testament \nfor testimony in favor of relics. \n\nNow let us to the mass again. It is known, I sup- \npose, that they quote Scripture in favor of the mass. \nThat circumstance however proves nothing. Scrip- \nture is not always aptly quoted. It should be remem- \nbered by those who are prone to think it in favor of a \ndoctrine, that its abettors appeal to the Bible in its \nsupport, that Scripture was once quoted by a celebra- \nted character to prove the propriety of the Son of \nGod casting himself down from the pinnacle of the \ntemple. It is always advisable to refer to the quota- \ntion, and see for ourselves if it makes in favor of the \ndoctrine. The principal passage which the Catholics \nadduce in support of their mass, is that concerning \nMelchizedek, in the 14th chapter of Genesis. Abra- \nham and his armed servants were on their return from \n\" the slaughter of the kings,\" when they were met by \nthis distinguished personage. The record of the oc- \ncurrence is as follows : \" And Melchizedek, king of \nSalem, brought forth bread and wine ; and he was the \npriest of the Most High God. And he blessed him.... \nAnd he gave him tithes of all.\" Here is the text, \nreader. Now the doctrine deduced from it is this that \n\n\n\n132 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\" in the mass there is offered to God a true, proper, and \npropitiatory sacrifice for the living and the dead.\" \n\na. e. d. \n\nDo not smile at the incongruity of the text and the \ndoctrine — the distance of the conclusion from the \npremises. Sacred things are to be handled seriously. \nI know the reader only smiles at the logic of the \nthing. But he should remember that they do the best \nthing they can, when they quote this passage in favor \nof their mass. If there were other Scripture more \nappropriate and to the point than this, they would \nquote it. I have no doubt the intelligent Catholic is \nashamed of this reference to the Bible in behalf of the \nmass. He sees that it has no bearing on the case, \nIt is not to compare in point of appropriateness with \nthe tempters quotation referred to above. \n\nJust observe first, that it was as king, not as priest, \nthat Melchizedek brought forth the bread and wine. \n\" Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought forth bread \nand wine.\" It was an act of royal bounty — an exer- \ncise of kingly hospitality. True, it is said immedi- \nately after, that he was a priest as well as a king ; but \nthat is said in reference to what follows, not what \nprecedes. \" And he was priest of the Most High \nGod. And he blessed him.\" In his capacity of king \nhe brought forth bread and wine. In the exercise of \nhis priestly office he blessed Abraham. To bless, we \nknow, Avas one part of the priest's office. Numbers, 6 : \n23. His bringing forth bread and wine had nothing to \ndo with his being a priest. What proves this view of \nthe passage correct is, the manner in which the author \nof the Epistle to the Hebrews refers to it. In his \nseventh chapter he introduces Melchizedek as a priest, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 133 \n\nand in that character as the model of Christ's priest- \nhood ; and he speaks of his blessing Abraham, but \nsays not a word about his bringing forth bread and \nwine. Why is not this circumstance — this most ma- \nterial circumstance, according to the Catholic notion, \nalluded to, if in it he acted as a priest and as the sa- \ncerdotal type of Christ? Why does the apostle, when \nspeaking of him as a priest, mention only his benedic- \ntion of Abraham ? Now if, as I think it is manifest, \nhe brought forth bread and wine not in the exercise of \nhis office as priest, it overturns the Catholic argument \nat once. \n\nBut secondly, consider what in all human proba- \nbility was the object of the bread and wine. Would, \nany one, in reading the passage, suppose it could have \nbeen for any other purpose than refreshment ? What \nan idea ! to come out to a people returning famished \nand weary from the toils of conflict, with a sacrifice — \na propitiatory sacrifice too — the mass — with bread and \nwine, not to be eaten and drank, but to be offered to \nGod ! What more unnatural than such a supposi- \ntion ! On. the other hand what more natural, and \nproper than to bring forth, for those fatigued soldiers, \n\"wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and bread \nwhich strengtheneth man's heart,\" to refresh them ? \nIt was just what, under the circumstances, they needed. \n\nIn further proof of the correctness of this view of \nthe passage, we find that Abraham recognized the \npriesthood of Melchizedek, not by receiving bread \nand wine at his hands, but by giving him tithes, \n\"And he gave him tithes of all.\" \n\nWe see then there is no proof of any sacrifice in \nthis transaction. There was nothing offered to God, \n12 \n\n\n\n134 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nWhat was offered, was to Abraham and his company. \nBut if the offering was to God, it could but constitute \nan eucharistic sacrifice. Bread and wine might be \noffered as thank-offerings. But a bloodless propitia- \ntory sacrifice was unknown under the Old Testament. \nWhatever view we take of the passage, it cannot \nmake for the mass. That which was offered was \nonly bread and wine. The Catholics do not pretend \nthat they were changed into the body and blood of \nChrist. Melchizedek lived nearly 2000 years before \nChrist had a body. How could transubstantiation \ntake place so long before the incarnation ? But if sim- \nple bread and wine were offered, then the act of Mel- \nchizedek, if any thing more than an example of \nhospitality, was rather the model of the Protestants' \nLord's Supper, than the Roman Catholic's mass. — \nAnd here it may be observed, that Melchizedek does \nnot seem to have denied the cup to the laity, as later \npriests have done. O no, it was the Council of Con- \nstance, in the 15th century, that established that custom. \nBut Catholics have another argument from Scrip- \nture in favor of their mass. It is derived from the \nperpetuity of Christ's priesthood. If, say they, Christ \nis a priest forever, and \" every high priest is ordained \nto offer gifts and sacrifices,\" there must be a perpetual \nsacrifice, else he would be a priest without exercising \npriestly functions. But do they not see that this is to \nsuppose Christ a priest after the order of Aaron, and \nnot after that of Melchizedek ? It is true the Aaronic \npriests offered sacrifice during the whole term of their \npriesthood. They stood \" daily ministering, and offer- \ning oftentimes the same sacrifices.\" But what is said \nof Christ? He \"needeth not daily, as those high \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 135 \n\npriests, to offer up sacrifice for this he did once, \n\nwhen he offered up himself.\" And again: \"But \nthis man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins, \nforever sat down on the right hand of God.\" Yet the \nCatholics say he needeth daily to offer up sacrifice, \nand that he, as well as the Aaronic priests, offers of- \ntentimes the same sacrifices ! They make Christ to \nresemble the Jewish priests in those very particulars \nin which the apostle says he stands in contrast to \nthem! \n\nAs to Christ's being a priest forever, if that means \nany thing more than is expressed in Heb. 7 : 24, \nwhere he is said to have \" an unchangeable priest- \nhood,\" that is, a priesthood that passes not from one \nto another, as did the Aaronic, it is explained in the \nsucceeding verse, where it is said that \"he ever liveth \nto make intercession.\" He is a priest forever, because \nhe ever liveth to make intercession. It is not at all \nnecessary that he should ever live to offer sacrifice, in \norder to his being a priest forever. Intercession is \nas much a part of the priest's office as sacrifice. And \nhere I would ask whether the Jewish high-priest was \nnot as much a priest when he went into the most holy \nplace to sprinkle the blood of the sacrifice, and to burn \nincense, as when, before he entered, he was engaged \nin offering the sacrifice ? Undoubtedly he was. He \noffered no sacrifice while he was in the holy place. \nHe went in for another purpose altogether. So Christ, \nthe great antitype, has entered \"not into the holy \nplaces made with hands, which are the figures of the \ntrue ; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the \npresence of God for us.\" And there he remains. He \nhas never come out. He had no need to come out to \n\n\n\n136 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\noffer another sacrifice, as the Jewish high-priest had. \n'*By one offering he hath perfected forever them that \nare sanctified.\" Were another sacrifice necessary, he \nwould return in person to earth to offer it ; nor would \nit be \" under the form of bread and wine,\" for the \napostle argues, in Heb. 9 : 25, 26, that he must suffer \nas often as he offers himself— that he cannot be offered \nwithout suffering. Yet the Douay Catechism says \nhe \" continues daily to offer himself.\" He is sacri- \nficing, according to them, while he is interceding— \nsacrificing in the place appropriated to intercession, \nand offering himself without suffering ! The Bible \ntells us, \" Christ was once offered,\" but that \" he ever \nliveth to make intercession.\" It makes the perpetuity \nof his priesthood to consist in his intercession. The \nCatholic doctrine, on the other hand, teaches us that \nhe is continually offered, and therefore a priest for- \never. And yet they appeal to the Bible in proof of \ntheir doctrine ! \n\n\n\n36. The Host. \n\n\n\nHere is another of the peculiar terms of the Cath- \nolic religion. Protestants commonly use the word to \nsignify an army, or a great multitude. But Catholics \nmean by it one thing. It is the name they give to the \nconsecrated wafer in the Eucharist. Wafer! What \nhas a wafer to do with the Eucharist? We read that \nou* Saviour took bread and blessed, and break, and \ngave it to his disciples; but we read nothing about \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 137 \n\nany wafer. If by wafer the same thing is meant, \nwhich we mean by bread, yet why this change of \nnames? Why not call it what Christ called it? Why \nseek to improve upon things as they were left by him? \n\nWhen the wafer, the thin piece of bread, is conse- \ncrated; that is, when a blessing has been invoked, and \nthanks have been given, for that is all that Christ \ndid, (the same precisely which he did when he fed the \nmultitudes; in which case not even Catholics contend \nthat there was any transubstantiation of the bread \ninto another substance; and if no such effect was pro- \nduced on that bread by the blessing and thanksgiv- \ning, how should the same produce such an effect on \nthe bread of the sacrament?) then it is no longer \ncalled a wafer. It is true, St. Paul calls it the same \nafterwards that he called it before. But not so the \nCatholics. Now they call it the host, a word derived \nfrom the Latin hostia, signifying victim, or sacrifice. \n\nBut why change its name ? And above all, why give \nit so different a name? One minute to call a thing a \nwafer, and the next a victim, a sacrifice ! and when \nnothing but a prayer has intervened. Has it become \nso different a thing that it deserves so different a \nname ? I know the Catholics say a great change has \ntaken place in its nature, and therefore it ought to \nhave a new name. Well, I am open to conviction. \nWhen a great change has taken place in any thing, \nsuch a change that the original substance of the thing \nhas totally departed, which is the greatest change \nany thing can undergo, it commonly appears to the \nsenses different from what it did before. But the \nwafer and the host look exactly alike, and they smell \nalike, and taste and feel precisely alike. The form \n12 * \n\n\n\n139 \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\nis the same it was before ; and by every test by which \nthe substance can be examined, it is found to be the \nsame. Yet they say the two things are as unlike as \nbread, and the body, soul and divinity of Christ ! And \nthis on pain of perdition must be believed, though the \nsenses all exclaim against it ; and reason, that calm \nfaculty, almost getting into a passion with the absur- \ndity of the doctrine, cries out against it; and though \nall experience be against it. And in favor of it, there \nis what? Why, Christ said \"This is my body,\" \nspeaking as Paul did when he said \" and that rock \nwas Christ;\" and as he himself did, when he said \n\"I am the door.\" Did any one ever contend that \nChrist was literally a door or a rock ? Oh no. Why \nthen is it contended that the bread was literally his \nbody ? Is it so said ? And are not the other things also \nso said? It is strange the Catholics should contend \nfor a literal interpretation in the first case, while they \nwill not allow it in the other cases. \n\nBut if they contend for a strictly literal interpreta- \ntion of \" this is my body,\" why do they not abide by \nsuch an interpretation ? Why do they say, as in the \nChristian's Guide, page 14. that \"in the most holy \nsacrament of the Eucharist, there is truly, really, \nand substantially, the body and blood, tog-ether with \nthe soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ ?\" If \nChrist says it is his body, he does not say it is his soul \nand divinity. Where do they get that from ? They \nsay it is his body, because he says it is. But why do \nthey say it is his soul and Divinity also, when he does \nnot say so? You see they do not interpret the pas- \nsage literally, after all. \n\nBut what do the Catholics do with this host? Prin- \ncipally two things, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 139 \n\n1. They adore it. The Bible says \"Thou shalt \nworship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou \nserve.\" But the Catholics worship the host. Yes, \nbut is not Christ to be worshiped, and do they not \nhold that the host is Christ ? Suppose they do hold \nso. Does it follow that every thing is as they hold it \nto be 7 And if in this Ccise the fact be different from \nwhat they hold it to be, is not their worship idolatry \nwhatever they may verily think ? Paul verily thought \nthat he ought to do many things contrary to the name \nof Jesus of Nazareth. But did his verily thinking it \nwas his duty, make it so, or exculpate him ? No, he \nought to have been better informed. And Catholics \nought to be better informed than to suppose that the \nhost is Christ — a wafer, God — a bit of bread, notBnly \nthe body, but the very soul and divinity of Christ ! \nI say they ought to know better. And if they do not, \nthey must take the consequences of such ignorance. \n\n2. The other thing which they do with the host is \nto eat it. This is all very well on our theory. It is \nbread ; and what is bread for but to be eaten. Christ \ntells us to put it to this use. He says \" Take, eat.\" \nBut on thei r supposition that it is bread no longer, it \nis no longer proper to be eaten. Its nature being so \nchanged, there ought to be a corresponding change in \nits use. If it is to be adored, it is not to be devoured. \nCommon sense teaches this. These two uses of it, \nadoring it and eating it, are incongruous to each other. \nOne of them at least ought to be dispensed with. If \nthey continue to eat it, they ought to give up adoring \nit. But if they must have it as an object of worship, \nthey should cease to use it as an article of food. Any \nbody can tell you that you ought not to eat what you \n\n\n\n140 \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\nworship. Cicero thought such a thing could not be. \nIn his work on Theology, he asks \" Was any man \never so mad as to take that which he feeds upon for a \ngod ?\" But Cicero did not live late enough, else he \ncould not have asked that question. Papal Rome has \nfar outdone Pagan Rome. \n\nIf I believed in transubstantiation, I would never \nreceive the Eucharist. I know that I must spiritu- \nally eat the flesh and drink the blood of Christ, that I \nmay have life in me, that is, I must by meditation and \nfaith, contemplate and appropriate his sacrifice; but \n1 could never literally eat what I believed to be my \ndivine Saviour. What, take him actually between \nmy teeth ! chew and swallow what I had 'just before \nworshiped, and adored ! Let not the language be ob- \njected to. It is unavoidable. Rather let horror be \nfelt at the thing. I would not speak lightly of sacred \nthings, nor untenderly of the opinions of others ; but \nthe idea of adoring and eating the same object is \nshocking to me. Some readers will perhaps say that \nI must misrepresent the Catholics— that it is impos- \nsible they should believe so. Let such convict me of \nmisrepresentation, if they can, and I will lake the first \nopportunity of retracting. \n\n\n\n37. Priests. \n\n\n\nWhere are we ? Under what dispensation are we \nliving? One would suppose, from hearing so much \nsaid among a certain class of people about priests, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 141 \n\nand their offering sacrifice, that the Old Testament \ndispensation — the dispensation of types and shadows \n— was still in force : and that the Messiah, the sub- \nstance and antitype, was yet to come. Priests were \na sacred order of men under the Jewish dispensation, \nand sacrifice constituted an important part of divine \nservice. But, under the Christian dispensation, there \nis no order of priests, neither any literal sacrifices \noffered. We have, indeed, under this dispensation, a \ngreat High Priest, Jesus the Son of God, who, hav- \ning once offered himself to bear the sins of many, has \npassed into the heavens for us, where he ever lives to \nmake intercession; and he makes all his disciples, \nin a sense, both \" kings and priests unto God \" — John \n1:6; even as also Peter, who is prime authority with \nus all, testifies. When addressing the Christians to \nwhom he wrote, he says: \"Ye are a holy priesthood, \nto offer up spiritual sacrifices.\" 1 Pet. 2 : 5. This \npriesthood, which Peter recognizes, is very different \nfrom the Roman Catholic priesthood. All Chris- \ntians share equally in the New Testament priest- \nhood, and these priests are set apart to offer up \nspiritual sacrifices, or as it is said, v. 9, that they \n\" should show forth the praises\" of God. This is \nnot the object of the Roman priesthood, neither are \nits functions performed by all the faithful. \n\nThe truth is, the Roman Catholic priesthood, that \nlarge and influential body of ecclesiastics, has no \nmore warrant and authority for its existence from \nChrist, than it has from Mohammed. There is no \nmore in the Bible in favor of such an order, than \nthere is in the Koran, and perhaps not as much. \nChrist instituted no such office — authorized no such \n\n\n\n142 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ncharacters in his church. \" He gave some, apostles ; \nand some, prophets ; and some, evangelists ; and \nsome, pastors and teachers ;\" but he gave none \npriests. And these he gave or appointed \"for the \nperfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, \nfor the edifying of the body of Christ.\" not for saying \nmass, offering sacrifice, burning incense, hearing \nconfessions, and the like of those things. Christ ap- \npointed no officer to perform such functions as these. \nI have quoted from Eph. 4: 11, 12. In 1 Cor. 12 : 28, \nwe have another enumeration of the officers which \nGod has set in the church, but there is not a word \nabout priests. They are a class of persons not at all \nneeded under the Christian dispensation. The great \nHigh Priest of our profession answers every purpose. \nHe has offered the sacrifice which is efficacious to \nput away sin — has shed a blood which cleanseth from \nall sin ; and he ever livetL to be our Advocate with \nthe Father. Neither for propitiation, nor for inter- \ncession, need we any other priest. Other priests are \nquite out of place since he has come. \n\nIf Christ instituted an order of priests, why do we \nnot read any thing about them in that choice piece of \necclesiastical history, the Acts of the Apostles ? It is \nvery strange. We read about Jewish priests in the \nActs, and mention is made of the priests of Jupiter, \nbut not a word do we hear of any Christian priests. \nWho were they? What were their names? Ste- \nphen was a deacon; Philip was an evangelist; Paul \nwas an apostle; Peter was an elder, and there were \nmany who were addressed as bishops. But who was \na priest? If Paul was, why does he not sometimes \ncall himself so in the introduction of his Epistles 1 \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 143 \n\nWas he ashamed of the office ? Peter says he was \nan elder or presbyter, but gives no hint of his having \nbeen a priest. He seems to have had no idea of his \nbeing a priest in any other sense than as being one of \nthat \"holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices,\" \nwhich all true believers compose. \n\nIf the priesthood be a Christian order of men, why \ndoes Paul, in writing to Timothy and Titus, take no \nnotice of it 1 He gives the qualifications of bishops \nand deacons, but says nothing about those of priests. \nWere they to have no qualifications? Must a bishop \nbe \" blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, \nsober, apt to teach,\" &c. and might a priest be any \nthing he pleased in these respects? Might any body \nbe a priest ? If not, the silence of the apostle is de- \ncisive. Any one may see now why the Catholic \npriests do not like the Bible. Who likes to be treat- \ned by book or man with silent contempt? The \npriests will never forgive the evangelists and apos- \ntles for having passed them by in the way they have \ndone. Never. And they will never let their people \nhave the genuine Bible. If they do, they will lose \nthe people. \n\nI suppose it is scarcely necessary to say, that if \nCatholics meant no more by a priest, than some of our \nProtestant brethren mean by the word, viz. a presby- \nter, of which priest, as used by them, is but an abbre- \nviation, there could have been no occasion for this \narticle. But they mean by a priest, a real sacerdotal \ncharacter, as much as the priest of the Old Testa- \nment was — one who literally offers sacrifice. They \npretend that their priests offer sacrifice now — that \nwhenever they perform mass, a true, proper, and \n\n\n\n144 TH0UGHT3 ON POPERY. \n\npropitiatory sacrifice, for the living and the dead, is \noffered by them. And if you ask them what they \noffer, they tell you they offer Christ — that, under \ntheir hands, he becomes again, and as often as they \nchoose to make him so, a propitiatory sacrifice — that \nhe is as really offered by them in their missal ser- \nvice, as he was by himself on Calvary, only now he \nis offered in an unbloody manner ! This is what their \npriests do. A priest must have somewhat to offer. \nHe is ordained to offer gifts and sacrifices. Now, \nthe Catholic priest, finding nothing else to offer, pre- \ntends to re-offer Christ. For all this — this priest- \nhood, and this sacrifice — every one knows there is no \nmore authority in the Bible than there is for the \nHindoo Suttee — the burning of widows. \n\n\n\n38. The Celibacy of the Clergy. \n\nThis is the Roman Catholic doctrine ; but is it Bi- \nble doctrine ? I believe, however, that the Catholics \nsay it is no part of doctrine, but of discipline. This \nis a sorry evasion. It amounts to a confession that \nsome of their ecclesiastical practices have no warrant \nin Christian doctrine. It is saying that it is a part of \ntheir discipline that their clergy do not marry, but no \npart of their doctrine that they should not. \n\nBut let us see how this doctrine or discipline, or by \nwhatever name it may be called, tallies with the \nScriptures; and as we proceed, we shall see why the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 145 \n\nCatholics are unwilling that the people should read \nthe Bible. We shall see what a world of trouble it \nwould occasion the priests, were they to be in the ha- \nbit of reading it. Suppose, for example, an intelli- \ngent Catholic to take up Paul's first epistle to Timo- \nthy for perusal. Well, he reads along until he comes \nto the third chapter, where he finds Paul telling Tim- \nothy what a bishop must be. He must be this and \nthat, and, among other things, \" the husband of one \nwife.\" The reader is shocked. \" Why, what does \nthis mean ? Our priests tell us that a bishop must not \nmarry at all. Our church prohibits all her clergy from \nmarrying. Which is right, our priests and church, \nor St. Paul ?\" He concludes to read on. Coming to \nverse 4th, he meets with this qualification of the bi- \nshop : \" one thatruleth well his own house,\" i. e. family. \nBut how can he, if not permitted to have a house of \nhis own ? He proceeds : \" having his children in \nsubjection.'*' His children — his children ! ! ! What, a \nbishop having children of his own, and having them \ncollected in a family too ! And then there follows a \nmost provoking parenthesis, \" for if a man know not \nhow to rule his own house, how shall he take care of \nthe church of God ?\" His ruling his own house well \nis to be a criterion of his ability to take care of the \nchurch of God, and yet they say that he must not \nmarry ! \n\nBut the apostle passes on to speak of the deacons^ \nand to say what they must be ; and in verse 11th, he \nsays what sort of wives they should have — \" even so \nmust their wives be grave,\" &c. So far from en- \ncouraging a doubt whether they should marry or not, \nPaul gives them directions for choosing a wife. \n13 \n\n\n\n146 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nNow, need any one wonder that the priests do not \nwant to have the Bible read by the people ; a Bible \nAvhich contains such statements as these, and which \nmoreover declares that marriage is honorable in all, \nwithout exception of clergy? I do not wonder at it. \nWho would put into the hands of his children and \nservants, and recommend to their perusal and belief, a \nbook containing statements so much at variance with \nhis oral communications to them 1 \n\nBut there is a passage a little farther on, at the be- \nginning of chapter 4, which, I suppose, constitutes \nwith the priests a still stronger objection to the popu- \nlar reading of this part of the Bible particularly. \n\" The Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter \ntimes some shall depart from the faith— forbidding to \nmarry.\" Now, they are afraid that if the people were \nto read this, they might say, \" Why, St. Paul must \nmean our church, it forbids to marry.\" And as it \nmight give the priests some trouble to show that he \ndid not mean their church, the better way is not to let \nthe people know that there is any such passage in the \nBible. \n\n\n\n89. A Holier State than Matrimony! \n\nIn one of his last letters to Mr. Breckenridge, Mr. \nHughes, of Philadelphia, says that the Catholic church \ndoes not forbid marriage, but \" she holds, however, that \nthere is a holier state\" When I had read the letter \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 147 \n\nthus far, I stopped, and said to myself, \" How is this ? \na holier state ! I must look into this.\" So I thought a \nmoment ; and I came to the conclusion that I could \nnot hold with the Catholic church in this thing, for \nthe following reasons among others. \n\n1. Because, according to this doctrine there is a \nholier state than that to which Enoch attained, and \nfrom which he was translated ! He, we know, was a \nmarried man, and begat sons and daughters ; and it \nwould seem that he married earlier than any other \nPatriarch ! And yet all the while after his marriage, \nfor three hundred years, he walked with God; and \n\" he had this testimony, that he pleased God ;\" and \nGod, in honor of his eminent piety, translated him \n\" that he should not see death !\" Now do you sup- \npose I am going to believe that the state of a Roman \npriest is holier than that of Enoch ; and that he would \nhave been a better man if he had let marriage alone ? \nNever. I would ask, Do the priests do more than \nwalk with God ? Have they a higher testimony than \nthat they please him ? Are they translated ? What \nis the reason we never hear of their holier state being \nthus honored? \n\n2. If there be a holier state than matrimony, why \ndid not the law of the Jewish priesthood enjoin celi- \nbacy, as the letter tells us the law of the Catholic \npriesthood does ? Above all, why was not the high \npriest, whose functions were of the most sacred cha- \nracter, so much as permitted to occupy that holier \nstate ? He was not only authorized, but, it is believed, \nwas obliged to marry. \n\n3. The letter says, speaking of the Catholic church, \n\"the law of her priesthood enjoins celibacy, &c. She \n\n\n\n148 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndoes not choose them (those who marry) for her cler- \ngy.\" Truly, she is very fastidious in the choice of \nher clergy. Why need she be so much more parti- \ncular than Paul required Timothy and Titus to be in \nthe choice of their clergy ? Their bishops and dea- \ncons might have a wife ; but if any \" wish to marry,\" \nshe does not choose them for her clergy ! \n\n4. I thought when I read about the holier state, \n\"what if all the world should aspire to the holier \nstate?\" Certainly, if it is holier, they ought to aspire \nto it. Priests are not the only persons who are com- \nmanded to be 'perfect. \n\nLet the Catholic priesthood no longer make such an \nado about their celibacy, as a holier state. Protes- \ntants allow their clergy to do as they please in this \nmatter. If they remain unmarried, it is all very well. \nAt the same time they are not extremely solicitous \nthat their ministers should aspire to any holier state \nthan that from which Enoch was translated. \n\n\n\n40. Auricular Confession. \n\nI have been thinking with myself, where is the au- \nthority for this doctrine and practice of the Catholics — \nwhence came the idea of confessing sin to a priest 1 \nEvery one admits that sin ought to be confessed — but \nwhy to a priest? Common sense would seem to dic- \ntate that confession should be made immediately to \nthe being offended y especially if he be easily accessi- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 149 \n\nble. If a child offends his father, does he confess the \noffence to some third person, when his father is near \nat hand too ; and above all, does he select for that third \nperson, an equally offending brother? Was ever such \na thing heard of as this ? Yet this is the Catholic \ndoctrine. It sends us to a brother as deep in the of- \nfence as we, to confess to him, that we have sinned \nagainst our father, when that father is near by, and \nwhen, moreover, he says \" Come to me !\" I think \nboth the brothers, the penitent and the priest, had \nmuch better go directly to the father. I find that this \nis what they used to do in old times. I have been \nlooking into the Bible to discover how it was then, \nand I perceive that they all went to God to make their \nconfessions. They did not stop at the priest. There \nwas David, and Daniel, and Ezra, and Nehemiah, and \nI know not how many more. They all went with \ntheir sin directly to God. Read that precious Psalm, \nthe 51st. There is David before God. He confesses \nto the one he had offended. \" Against thee,\" he says. \nAnd may we not use that Psalm? May we not go \nand say \"against thee?\" Must we turn aside to the \noriest ? The publican did not. He went straight on \nto God. And the prodigal did not stop short of his \nfather. Why should we? Why should Catholics? \nI think the sinner should go on to God — and I do \nnot like that Catholic doctrine, because it stops him \nas he is going to God. The sinner is on his way to \nconfess his sin to his maker, and to implore of him \npardoning mercy, and it says to him \" you need not \ngo so far — the priest will hear you confess — he can \nforgive you.\" I like better the Protestant doctrine, \nwhich speed? and <-heersthe penitent on his way to God. \nJ 3+ \n\n\n\n150 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nNor can I see why we want more than one media- \ntor between us and God. Why is not Christ enough ? \nHow admirably qualified he is for his work? With \none nature that reaches up to God, and another that \nreaches down to man, how excellently fitted is he to \nmediate for us ! Do we want another between us and \nChrist ? O no. Let the priest please not put him- \nself in the way. Jesus says, \" Come unto me ;\" we \nwant no human priest between us and our \" great High \nPriest, that is passed into the heavens for us.\" \n\nI may be very dull, but really I cannot see for my \npart what is the use of the priest ; for surely he can- \nnot forgive a sinner, unless he repents ; and if he does \nrepent, God forgives him, and then who cares whether \nthe priest forgives him or not. If confession to the \npriest is intended to supersede confession to God, it \nis certainly a great mischief. If not so intended, it is \nuseless, for our being forgiven depends on the nature \nof our confession to God, as penitent or otherwise. \n\nBut they allege in support of their doctrine, a verse \nof Scripture, \" confess your faults one to another.\" I \nsuppose the reason they allege this is, that it is the \nbest they can find for their purpose. They must be \nhard pushed for authority, when they resort to that \npassage. \" Confess your faults one to another.\" This \nimplies something mutual. If I confess to the priest, \nhe must confess to me, for it says one to another \nThis puts priests and all on a level. There is no- \nthing auricular in this. Certainly we ought to con- \nfess our faults one to another, and to \" pray one for \nanother,\" as the same apostle exhorts. But this is by \ndo means the Catholic doctrine of confession. That \nis quite a different thing. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 151 \n\nOn the whole, it is my opinion that the world can \ndispense with this doctrine, and with the practice \nfounded on it as well as with any thing which it has \n\n\n\n41. A Mistake Corrected. \n\nIn an article entitled \" Auricular Confession,\" the \nwriter stated, that in looking into the Bible he disco- \nvered that all the penitents mentioned therein went \ndirectly to God to make their confessions of sin, and \nnot to the priests ; and he spoke of David, Daniel, Ez- \nra, and Nehemiah, as examples in point. He finds, how- \never, that he was mistaken in saying that they all \nconfessed to God instead of the priests. There is one \nexception, and he is willing that the Catholics should \nhave the advantage of it. It is the case of Judas Is- \ncariot, recorded in Matthew, 27 : 3, 4. He did not go to \nGod with his confession. He went to the chief priests, \nand it was to them he said, \" I have sinned, in that I \nhave betrayed the innocent blood.\" Here, we must \nconfess, is an example of confession to a priest. \nBut it is the only one, I believe, in the Bible. Ju- \ndas also brought money (thirty pieces of silver) to \nthe priests; so r\\at the Catholics have authority \n(such as it is) lor that part of their practice. I am \ndetermined I will do the Catholics justice. They \nshall have the advantage of every particle of (Scrip- \nture which really makes in their favor. It is well \nknown that they need it. \n\n\n\n352 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nBut, poor man ! He got nothing by going to the \npnests. It was their cruel and contemptuous treat- \nment of him, as much as any thing else, that deter- \nmined him to go and hang himself. How differently \neven Judas would have been treated, if he had gone \nwith a broken heart to our great High Priest, Jesus ! \nAh, he had better gone to him whom he betrayed, \nthan to them to whom he betrayed him. I think I shall \nalways go to Him, notwithstanding the example of \nJudas. \"\" \n\n\n\n43. Purgatory. \n\n\n\nThere are no worse reasoners than the Catholics , \nand I suppose the cause of this is that they are so lit- \ntle accustomed to reason. Men rarely do well what \nthey are not used to do. The mind needs to be dis- \nciplined to thinking and reasoning, else it performs \nthese operations but very indifferently. Hence, you \nhear so many persons say therefore, when nothing \nfollows, or, at any rate, that does not follow which \nthey suppose. Of this, the Catholics, not being in \nthe habit of thinking and reasoning, their very reli- \ngion prohibiting these operations, afford us some won- \nderful specimens. Between their premises and con- \nclusion there is often so great a gulf, so deep and \nwide both, that I have wondered how they manage to \nget over it. Let us hear them on the subject of pur- \ngatory. They feel as if they would like to have a lit- \ntle Scripture for this dogma of theirs — a text or two ; \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON FOPERY. 153 \n\nnot for the satisfaction of the faithful, (for to them it is \nsufficient that the church believes the doctrine,) but to \nmeet the heretics. But where shall they find in the \nBible any thing favorable to purgatory. The Bible \nspeaks plainly enough of two places beyond the grave, \nbut it says nothing about a third place. It tells us of \na heaven and a hell, but of an intermediate purgatory \nnever a word. It is true that some hundreds of years \nafterwards certain writers speak of it as a Christian \ndoctrine, but I want to know why the older, the in- \nspired writers, say nothing about it. We read fre- \nquently in the Bible of being purged from sins, but \nmost unfortunately for the Catholic doctrine, the \npurging is done in this life, not after death ; and it is \ndone, not by fire, as that doctrine asserts, but by \nblood. So that those passages in which purging oc- \ncurs, do not help the Catholic cause. Then they look \nin the Bible for the word fire ; and they read of the \nfire that is not quenched, and of everlasting fire, pre- \npared for the devil and his angels. But this will not \nanswer their purpose. This fire is everlasting, and \nfor devils as well as wicked men. They never ima- \ngined a purgatory for devils. The fire of their pur- \ngatory is to be quenched. \n\nBut there is a passage having fire in it, which they, \nadduce as to the point. It is 1 Cor. 3 : 15 : \"yet so as \nby fire.\" These are the premises in the grand argu- \nment ; and the conclusion is purgatory, a place of tem- \nporary punishment by fire after this life. Q,. E. D. \nThose letters were never more out of place. If there \nexisted independent and irrefragible proof from ano- \nther quarter of the doctrine of purgatory, in that case \nit might be innocently imagined that the apostle had \n\n\n\n154 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nin his mind some remote allusion to it in this chap- \nter ; but that this proverbial phrase, \" saved, yet so as \nby fire,\" signifying, as used by writers both sacred and \nprofane, a narrow escape out of a great danger, \nshould be relied on as the principal support of the \ndoctrine, is truly marvelous ! I always thought that \nthe fire of purgatory was to purify metis souls ; but \nthe fire here spoken of is to try every maris work. \nBesides, it is not said that the person shall be saved \nby fire, but so as by fire ; that is, with the like difficulty \nwith which a man in a burning house is saved from \nits conflagration. A good man, who, on the precious \nfoundation of Jesus Christ, builds worthless materials, \nsuch as wood, hay, stubble, shall suffer the loss of his \nwork, yet he himself shall be saved, though with great \ndifficulty, so as by fire. So much for the main pillar \nof purgatory. \n\nBut they point us to Matthew, 5. 25, 26, \" agree \nwith thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the \nway with him ; lest at any time the adversary deliver \nthee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the \nofficer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily, I say \nunto thee, thou shalt by no means come out thence, \ntill thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.\" Now I \nwould look the intelligent Catholic, who refers to this \nin proof of purgatory, in the face, and ask him if he is \nin earnest; if he can think that the doctrine of purga- \ntory derives any support from that passage. What is \nit but a most excellent piece of advice in reference to \nthe settlement of differences among men ? But they \nsay, \" does not Christ, in Matthew, 12 : 32, speak of a \nsin which shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, \nneither in the world to come ; and does not this imply \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 155 \n\nthat some sins may be forgiven in the world to come?'* 1 \nIt implies no such thing. That form of expression is \nemployed but to strengthen the denial. Besides, how- \ncan they be said to be forgiven, if they are purged \naway by fire ? \n\nAh, but does not St. Peter say that Christ went and \npreached to the spirits in prison ? Where were they \nbut in purgatory '? But were all the giant sinners be- \nfore the flood in purgatory ? If so, there may be some \nhope for us heretics. But why should Christ go to \npurgatory to preach to the spirits there ? It is not by \n-preaching, according to the Catholics, that souls are \nliberated from purgatory, but by prayers and masses, \nwell paid for. And why should Christ select out the \nantediluvian sinners, and preach only to them ? In- \ndeed, I think the friends of purgatory had better give \nup that text ; and not attempt to support their dogma \nby Scripture, but be content with tradition, consoling \nthemselves with the reflection that though nothing is \nwritten about it, yet it has been handed down. \n\nAs for us Protestants, we do not believe in burning \nout sin — in salvation by fire. We protest against it. \nWe believe in the washing away of sin, and that by \nthe blood of Jesus alone : \" The blood of Jesus Christ, \nhis son, cleanseth us from all sin.\" What is there \nleft for fire to do ? The spirits of the just made per- \nfect ascribe no part of their salvation to fire. No. \nTheir ascription is \" unto him that loved us, and \nwashed us from our sins in his own blood.\" How \ncould souls just come up out of purgatory, where they \nhave been hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, un- \ndergoing the purification of fire, unite in this song 1 \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\n156 THOUGHTS ON FOPERY. \n\n\n\n43. More about Purgatory. \n\n\n\nWhat low and unworthy thoughts the Catholics must \nhave of the work of Christ and of the efficacy of his \nblood, that they should believe that after he has done \nall he can for a soul, and his blood has exhausted its \nvirtue on it, it has still to be subjected to the action of \nan intense name, for no one knows how long, in order \nthat the expiation of its sins may be complete, and \nits salvation perfected! What a doctrine! Why, \naccording to this, Christ was premature in saying on \nthe cross, \" It is finished.\" It was not finished. The \nexpiation of sin was only begun on Calvary. It is \ncompleted in Purgatory ! O God, I pray thee rid \nand deliver the mind of man from this dreadful delu- \nsion, so derogatory to thy dear Son, our blessed Sa \nvior ; and so injurious to thee, for it represents thee, \nwho delightest in mercy, as punishing after thou hast \npardoned ; as requiring satisfaction from men, after \nthou hast accepted for them the satisfaction of Christ ! \n\nNow I know the reason why Catholics are never \nhappy in the prospect of death — why the dying vota- \nries of that religion never exclaim, \" O death where \nis thy sting ? O grave where is thy victory V It is \nbecause they are expecting to go to a place of fire. \nHow can they be triumphant in the \" certain fearful \nlooking for of judgment and fiery indignation ?\" How \ncan their religion be other than what it is, a religion \nof fear and foreboding. \n\nI have a few more things to say upon this subject; \none of them is this : If there was in the time of Christ \nand his apostles such a place as Purgatory, it must \nhave been a place of little note and of little use — of \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY, 157 \n\nlittle note, for they say nothing about it — and of little \nuse, because we hear of no one going there. Lazarus \ndid not go there, neither did Dives — nor did the thief \nwho was saved from the cross — nor did Judas. Paul \nspeaks of those Christians who are absent from the \nbody, as present with the Lord. Is Christ in Purga- \ntory ? Is it there that believers go to be ever with \nhim? But hark ! a voice from heaven ! now we shall \nknow how it is : \" I heard a voice from heaven,\" says \nSt. John, \" saying unto me, write, blessed are the dead \nwhich die in the Lord from henceforth ; yea, saith the \nSpirit, that they may rest from their labors.\" They \nthat die in the Lord, rest. Then certainly they are \nnot in Purgatory. \n\nIf Purgatory is full of souls, who are helped by the \nprayers of the faithful on earth, as Catholics say \nwhy, in the multitude of their exhortations, do the \nsacred writers never so much as give us a hint about \npraying for those poor suffering souls 1 What a cruel \noversight it was in them ! \n\nI smile sometimes when I look at this doctrine of \nPurgatory. But I repress the smile. Ludicrous as \nthe doctrine is, it is still more pernicious. What does \nit do, that is so bad ? Why, it turns away the atten- \ntion of the soul from Christ. It says the very opposite \nof \"behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the \nsin of the world.\" And then it tells men that they \nmay not only live, but die wickedly, and yet entertain \nthe hope of salvation. It proclaims the possibility of \na post-mortem repentance and purification from sin. \nIt emboldens men to go out of the world in impeni \ntence, assuring them that though they do, yet prayers \n\nand masses offered for thera after death can save \n14 \n\n\n\n158 THOUGHTS ON FOFERY. \n\nthem. It denies that we are to be judged and dealt \nwith according to the deeds done in the body ; whereas, \nthe Bible declares that according to these, we are to \nreceive. \n\nOn the whole, for this doctrine of Purgatory there \nis neither Scripture, nor reason, nor common sense. \nThis, however, may be said of it. It is a profitable \ndoctrine. Yes, a capital speculation. There is no \ndoctrine which pays so well. You have heard of Pe- \nter's pence. Here his boasted successors get their \npounds. \n\n\n\n44. A Strange Tiling. \n\nI read the other day in a Baltimore newspaper the \nfollowing article : \n\n\" Obsequies.— This day the Prelates and Theologians of the \nCatholic Provincial Council, now in session in this city, to- \ngether with several other priests, celebrated the solemn office \nfor the repose of the souls of the Right Rev. Doctor Fenwick, \nof Cincinnati, and De Neker, of New Orleans. The Right Rev. \nDoctor Rosati celebrated the High Mass, attended by the pro- \nper officers. After the Gospel, the Right Rev. Doctor Purcell, \nBishop of Cincinnati, ascended the pulpit and preach ed a fune- \nral Oration; in which he ably portrayed, in accurate and \npathetic language, the virtues and services of the deceased \nprelates, the former of whom fell a victim to the cholera, after \nyears of laborious and successful exertions; the latter was \ntaken away in the bloom of youth and in the midst of his labors \nby the yellow fever. After the Mass, Doctor Rosati perform- \ned the usual obsequies.\" \n\nHaving finished reading the article, I withdrew the \npaper from my eye and I said to myself, Where am \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 159 \n\nI? I thought I was in the United States of America. \nBut that cannot be. This can be no other than Spain, \nPortugal, or Italy. And what century is this? I always \nthought that I lived in the glorious nineteenth. But \nI must have made a mistake of nine at the very least. \nThis surely must be the tenth century ; the darkest of \nthe dark ages — seculum tenebricosum, as the church \nhistorians call it — the midnight of time ! this day the \nPrelates in this city celebrated the solemn of- \nfice for the repose, &c. \n\nJust then it occurred to me that I might have read \nthe paragraph incorrectly. So I resumed the paper ; \nbut still it read the same. Then I threw it down, and \nI sat and thought : Well now, this is a strange thing — \nan extraordinary piece of business — praying for the re- \npose of deceased saints ! — and those, too, prelates of \nthe only true church — and prelates eminent for their \n\"virtues and services\" — dead a year, or thereabouts, \nand yet not at rest ! — and this by confession of their \nown church ! What must become of the less renowned \nCatholics, if the very best of their bishops are tossing \nand burning in purgatory a year after having sacrificed \ntheir lives in the service of God and their fellow-crea- \ntures ; and need solemn offices said for the repose of \ntheir souls? I always thought that rest to the soul en- \nsued immediately on the exercise of faith. Paul says, \n\"we which have believed, do enter into rest ;\" and \nChrist says, \". come unto me, and I will give you rest ; \n\ntake my yoke upon you and learn of me and ye \n\nshall find rest unto your souls.\" I always supposed it \nmeant that they should find the rest as soon as they \ncame ; and not after a long life, and a long purgatorial \nperiod subsequent to that. But above all, I had got the \n\n\n\n160 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nimpression that, if never before, yet in the grave, good \nmen find rest. I must have contracted that belief, I \nsuppose, by reading what St. John says, \"Blessed are \nthe dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, \nsaith the Spirit, that they may rest,\" &c. or possibly \nI got it from that other passage, \" there the wicked \ncease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest.\" \nBut it seems I am wrong. Here are two bishops dead, \nyet not at rest! If what St. John says is true, here is \na dilemma. Either those bishops did not die in the \nLord, or they are at rest. Will the prelates say that \nthey did not die in the Lord ? I suspect not. Then \nthey must believe that they are at rest. And if so, why \ncelebrate the solemn office for their repose ? \n\nHoping it may not be a mortal sin, (if it be only ve- \nnial, I will risk it,) I would ask how the Catholics know \nthat these bishops of theirs are not at rest ? Who \ntold them so ? Where did they learn it 1 It seems to \nme a slander on those men. Bishop Fenwick enjoyed \nan enviable reputation for goodness. I have often \nheard him spoken of by Protestants in terms of high \ncommendation; and the article quoted speaks of \n\" the virtues and services \" of both. And now, after \nthey have been dead so long, to tell the world that \nthey are not at rest, and that their repose must be \nprayed for! If Protestants had dared to suggest such \na thing about them, we should never have heard the \nlast of it. \n\nBut it seems not only a slander on those men, but \nalso a reflection on Christ. How imperfectly, accord- \ning to the Catholics, he must have done his work ! \nthat even those esteemed his most devoted servants \nmust lie. and toss, and burn, nobody knows how long, \n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 161 \n\nafter death, before the efficacy of his atonement will \nallow of their being taken to heaven ! And where is \nthe fulfillment of his promise, \" Come unto me and I \nwill give you rest. Ye shall find rest to your souls ?\" \nAccording to the prelates, &c. these bishops have not \nfound it yet. \n\nI would dare ask another question. How is it that \nthe priests and prelates can tell with so much accura- \ncy how long a soul remains in purgatory before it is \nreleased? How do they know just when to stop pray- \ning? I will not insinuate that they pray as long as \nthe money holds out, and no longer ; for in the case of \nthe bishops, I suppose they freely give their prayers. \nI could not help thinking, if they did go first to purga- \ntory, yet they may not be there so long as this. A \nyear is a long time to be in purgatory. Hours pass \nslowly away while one is burning. O, is this a part \nof Christianity ? Can it be ? What an unsatisfactory \nreligion, which will not allow its most eminent exam- \nples, its most virtuous votaries, to have repose even in \nthe grave ! Credat qui vult, non ego. \n\n\n\n45. Canonizing (Saints. \n\nI was a good deal struck the other day in reading \nin a Baltimore paper, the following notice : \" On \nMonday, the 17th of March, St. Patrick's day, a so- \nlemn High Mass will be sung in St. Patrick's church, \nFell's Point, and the panegyric of the Saint will be \n14* \n\n\n\n162 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndelivered.\" It suggested some thoughts which I beg \nleave to communicate. \n\nWhy should the 17th of March be called St. Pat- \nrick's day ? How is it his day more than yours or \nmine ? What property had he in it more than others ? \nHe died on that day, it is true. Bat was he the only \none that died on that day. Many thousands must \nhave died on the same day. Does a man's dying on \na particular day make it his ? Ah, but he was a saint. \nHow is that ascertained ? Who saw his heart ? I \nhope he was a good man, and a renewed person. But \nI think we ought to be cautious how we so positively \npronounce our fellow creatures saints. Especially \nshould Catholics, since even Peter himself, though, \nas they affirm, infallible, did not express himself so \nconfidently, for he says in his first epistle, 5th chap, \nand 12th verse, of Silvanus, \" a faithful brother unto \nyou, as I suppose.\" \n\nBut what if he was a saint ; every real Christian is \na saint. If any one doubts this, let him consult any \npart of the New Testament. I trust there were many \nsaints on earth at that time ; and I doubt not that \nother saints died on that day as well as Patrick. I ob- \nject altogether to the day being called his. I have no \nidea that the 365th portion of every year belongs pe- \nculiarly to St. Patrick. I have no notion of this par- \nceling out the year among the saints, and calling one \nday St. Patrick's, and another St. Cecilia's, and so \non. At this rate we shall have the whole year appro- \npriated to dead saints. \n\nAh, but you forget that Patrick was canonized. \nThe church made him a saint, and appropriated that \nday to him. But I have not much opinion of these \n\n\n\nJ \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 163 \n\ncanonized saints — the saints of human manufacture. \nI like the sanctified ones better. Our Protestant \nsaints are \"God's workmanship, created in Christ \nJesus.\" But granting the 17th of March to be St. \nPatrick's day, why is it kept? \"What have we to do \nwith it, who live so long after 1 Patrick died in 493, \nand here in the 19th century they are keeping his day ! \nI think it is time to have done grieving for the death of \nSt. Patrick, now that he has been dead more than 1300 \nyears, and especially when he died at the good old age \nof 120. Really, I think it is time that even the Irish \nCatholics had wiped up their tears for him. Tears ! \nwhy, they do not keep the day in lamentation for him, \nbut in honor and praise of him. High mass is to be \nsung, as it appears by the advertisement. Now sing- \ning expresses praise — and his panegyric is to be pro- \nnounced. It is wonderful what a disposition there is \namong the Catholics to multiply the objects of their \nreligious honor. O that they were but satisfied to \npraise the Lord that made heaven and earth ! But no \n— they must have creatures to do homage unto — an- \ngels ; and saints of their own making ; and above all, \nthe blessed Virgin, \"our heavenly mother,\" as some \nof them call her. It would really seem as if they had \nrather pay respect to any other being than God ! They \ncannot be satisfied with the mediation of Jesus. They \nmust have creatures to mediate and intercede for them. \nThey are always doing things, and keeping days in \nhonor of the saints. How much they talk about tute- \nlar saints and guardian angels. It would appear \nas if they had rather be under the care of any other \nbeings than God! \n\nNow the idea of still eulogizing, panegyrizing, and \n\n\n\n164 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\npraising, here in these United States, one St. Patrick, \nwho died in Ireland in 493, how absurd! How is \npiety to be promoted by it, I should like to know ! \n\nBy the way, what is high mass in distinction from \nlow mass ? They differ in several respects. Among \nthe peculiarities of high mass, this, I believe, is one, \nthat it is more expensive than low mass. If you want \nhigh mass said for a poor suffering soul in purgatory, \nyou have to pay more than you do if you are content \nwith low mass. And so it should be, for the high \nmass is worth more. Low mass scarcely makes an \nimpression on a soul in purgatory. It is high mass \nthat does the business effectually and expeditiously. \n\nAs for us Protestants, we have nothing to do with \nthese masses. We do not find any thing said about \nthem in the Bible. The Catholic will pardon me, I \nhope, for alluding to the Bible. I am aware that it is \nno good authority with him, except now and then a \nverse, (entirely misunderstood,) such as that about the \nrock, which they say was Peter, on whom the church \nwas built, according to them ! Only think now, a man \nthat denied the founder of Christianity three times \nwith profane oaths, himself the foundation of the \nwhole church ! Nothing else for it to rest upon but \nPeter! But the beauty of it is that this foundation \nshould have had a long series of fundamental succes- \nsors, down to the present Pope ! I always supposed \nthat when a foundation is laid, there is an end of it \nand that all after belongs to the superstructure. Bu 1 \nthis is a digression. I was speaking of us Protestants, \nthat we reject masses. And so we acknowledge na \ndistinction of days, but the Lord's day. We keep no \nsaint's days. W T e keep the Lord's day. It is aLmos: \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 165 \n\nthe only day that some Catholics do not keep reli- \ngiously ! They are so busy with their saint's days, \nthat they quite overlook the day which \" the Lord \nhath made.\" \n\nIt strikes me that in giving this notice, the priests \nshould have used an easier word than panegyric. I \nwonder how many of our Irish brethren know what it \nmeans. But \" ignorance is the mother of devotion,\" \nyou know, is one of their maxims. What multitudes \nof them said, on the 17th of March, \" blessed St. Pat- \nrick.\" Probably many more than said \" Hallowed be \nthy name.\" And every day how much more respect \nis paid among them to the mother than to the Son ! \nIt is as clear as demonstration can make any thing, \nthat the Catholic religion is idolatrous. Men may \nsay that it is a very uncharitable remark. But if any \none will dare to say it is an untrue remark, I am ready \nto meet him. Let us inquire Jlrst, what is truth. \nThen we will come to the question, what is charity. \nAnd we shall find that charity is something which \n\" rejoices in the truth.\" \n\n\n\n46. Gen. Lafayette not at Rest. \n\nA few days since I observed the following notice, \ntaken from the Charleston Roman Catholic Miscella- \nny : \" There will be an office and high mass in the \nCathedral on Monday, 30th inst. (June,) for the re- \npose of the soul of General Lafayette.\" Also the \n\n\n\n166 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nfollowing, taken from the Catholic Herald : \" A so \nlemn high mass will be sung on Tuesday next, the \n29th inst. (July,) at 10 o'clock, at the church of the \nHoly Trinity, corner of Sixth and Spruce, for the re- \npose of the soul of the late Gen. Lafayette.\" The \nGeneral died, it will be remembered, on the 20th of \nMay. I did not know that he had been heard from \nsince, any more than the rest of the dead. But the \nCharleston and Philadelphia editors seem to have had \naccounts of him up to as late a date as the 29th of \nJuly. Forty days after his death, according to the one \naccount, and sixty-nine days according to the other, \nhis soul was not\" at rest; and they give notice that \nmeasures are about to be taken to procure its repose. \nI don't know where they got it. They do not say \nthrough what channel the intelligence came. They \nare very positive, however, in regard to the fact. I \nhave often been surprised at the confidence with which \nCatholics make assertions, implying a knowledge of \nthe condition of souls beyond the grave. One would \nsuppose they had a faculty, peculiar to themselves, of \nseeing into the invisible world. With what positive- \nness they speak of this one and that other as saints \nin glory, and even pray to them as such. I have often \nthought that many of the prayers of Catholics might \nbe lost from the circumstance of the persons to whom \nthey are addressed not being in heaven. \n\nWe Protestants do not lose any prayer in that way. \nWe do not pray to any being who we are not certain \nis in heaven. We speak with positiveness of the fu- \nture condition of characters and classes of men — the \nrighteous and the wicked — believers and unbelievers. \nThe Eible does that. But Ave do not, we dare not \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 167 \n\nspeak of the condition of individuals with the same \nconfidence ; and especially dare we not say of this or \nthat person that has died, that his soul is not at rest. \nWe think it better to be silent concerning the spirit \nthat has returned to God who gave it, and wait for the \ngreat day to disclose the decision of the eternal mind \non its case, and that especially if the person seemed \nto die in impenitence. We would not usurp the place \nand prerogative of judgment. What Protestant^even \nthough belonging to the class of Calvinists, as some \nof us do, would intimate that the soul of such a man \nas Lafayette is not at rest ? \n\nBut the Catholics are not so reserved. They pre- \ntend to know not only who are saints in glory, but \nwhat souls are suffering in the fire and restlessness of \npurgatory. They can tell you the names of the per- \nsons. They have printed in two of their papers, at \nleast, that the good Lafayette, as our countrymen are \nwont to speak of him, has not gone to rest. His body \nrests ; but his soul, they tell us, has as yet found no \nrepose. It has not obtained admittance into that place \nwhere \" the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary \nare at rest.\" The General lived a long time where \nthe wicked cease not from troubling ; and much an- \nnoyance received he from them, in the course of his \npatriotic and useful life ; and many trials and fatigues \nhe underwent for liberty and the rights of man. Now \nit seems to me the Catholics take a great deal on \nthem, when they say that his soul is still subject to \nthe annoyances and disqjiiet which were his lot on \nearth. Yet they do say so. They appoint a day, a \ngood while after his death, to sing high mass for the \nrepose of his soul. Of course they n»*-* l -~ 1: — ♦*■*•»* \n\n\n\n168 THOUGHTS ON FOPERY. \n\nup to that day his soul is not in repose, else why seek \nits repose ? If the person who inserted these notices \nwere living in the papal dominions, or under the influ- \nence of Prince Metternich, or the ex-king Charles, I \nshould not wonder at their proclaiming his soul not at \nrest, for Lafayette was never a favorite at Rome. Vi- \nenna, or in the court of Charles X. He loved liberty \ntoo well for that. But that American Catholics, and, if \nthe reader will not smile at the incongruity of the \nterms to each other, republican Catholics, should as- \nsert such a thing of him, I am a little surprised. I \nalmost wonder that the people do not resent it as an \ninsult to the old general. If a Protestant minister \nshould say from the pulpit, or through the press, that \nLafayette is not at rest, his church and his person \nwould be hardly safe. But the Catholics do it with \nimpunity. And let them. All the penalty I would \nhave them suffer, is the contempt of every intelligent \nmind. \n\nBut why do the Catholics suppose that Lafayette is \nnot at rest? Is it because none are at rest when they \ndie? Is this their doctrine? A comfortable religion \nto be sure ! According to this, how is it \" gain to die ?\" \nWho would be \" willing rather to be absent from the \nbody ?\" Or how can it be said, \" O death where is thy \nsting? 5 ' since here it is, and sting enough. But he \nwho wrote, Phil. 1, and 1 Cor. 15, and 2 Cor. 5, was not \na Catholic. Or do they conclude Lafayette to be not \nat rest, because only saints find repose in death, and \nhe was no saint ? I wish al^the saints of the church \nof Rome had been as good men as Lafayette. They \nhave canonized worse men than he. I have never in- \nquired curiously into the devotional character of the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 169 \n\ngeneral, but I am possessed of no proof that he was \nnot a Christian. Certainly, I find in his moral history- \nno reason why they should be so positive that he is \nnot at rest. They might have made the appointment \nconditional, I should think — mass to be said for the re- \npose of his soul, provided it be not at rest. But they \ninsert no condition. They are sure he is not at rest. \n\nWell, if he is not at rest, how are their masses to \ngive him repose? Does the Bible say that they have \nthat efficacy ? I must be excused for being so old- \nfashioned as to appeal to the Bible. That book, since \nit says nothing about masses, cannot be supposed to \nsay anything of their tranquilizing tendency. I al- \nways forget that the Catholics have another source of \ninformation on religion besides the Bible. Tradition \nthey call it. They mean by it the talk of inspired \nmen, when they had no pen in their hands ; which \nbeing heard, was reported, and so has come along \ndown by word of mouth. But I, for my part, am satis- \nfied with what they wrote. \n\nWe, Protestants, cannot join the Roman Catholics \nin their solemn office for Lafayette. We hope there \nis no need of praying for the repose of his soul ; and \nwe are certain there is no use in it. We prayed for \nhim while he was living. We did not wait for him \nto be dead first. Now that his spirit has returned to \nGod who gave it, and the Judge has passed upon it, \nwe leave it there. By the way, how do the Catholics \nknow when to stop praying for the repose of a soul ? \nThe Charleston Catholics had their mass for him on \nthe 30th of June. But it seems it was of no avail, \nfor the Philadelphia Catholics are called together to \nsing theirs on the 29th of July. How long is this thing \n15 \n\n\n\n170 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nto go on? I am writing on the 31st of July. Is he \nat rest now ? Was the mass of the 29th inst. more \nefficacious than that of the 30th ult. ? Perhaps the \nnext news from New-York will be that mass is to be \nperformed there for the repose of the same soul some \nday in August. I hope the church is not infallible \nin regard to Lafayette, as in other matters. I should \nbe sorry to think him all this time not at rest. \n\nI remember an old Latin maxim, \" Nil de mortuis, \nnisi bonum,\" say nothing but good respecting the \ndead — which, it seems to me, the Catholics have dis- \nregarded in the case of Lafayette. It is certainly not \nsaying any good of a dead man, to say that he is not \nat rest. And it is cruel to sing about it. The Phila- \ndelphia mass was sung. Is it kind to treat a suffer- \ning soul in purgatory with singing ? \n\n\n\n4:7. Prayers for tlie Faithful Departed. \n\nI have taken up again that little book, \" The Chris- \ntian's Guide to Heaven,\" published, as the title page \nassures us, with the approbation of the most reverend \nArchbishop of Baltimore. Parts of it I have hereto- \nfore reviewed, but I have not exhausted its contents. \nI find on page 198 of my edition, the title of this arti- \ncle, \" Prayers for the Faithful Departed.\" Faithful, \nsaid I to myself; and is it for the faithful dead that \nthey pray ? I was so ignorant as to suppose that it \nwas for wicked Catholics, being dead, they were so \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 171 \n\ngood as to pray. I thought there was no need of \npraying for deceased Christians — for the faithful de- \nparted. I got the notion somewhere, that good peo- \nple, when they die, go where there is \" fullness 01 \njoy,\" and \"pleasures forevermore.\" I may have \nimbibed it from St. Paul, who says that when such \nare \" absent from the body,\" they are \"present with \nthe Lord ;\" or perhaps I caught it from St. John, who \nspeaks of the dead that die in the Lord, as \"blessed \nfrom henceforth,\" and as resting from their labors. \nIt is more likely, however, that I got the idea from \nour Saviour, who says to the church in Smyrna, \" Be \nthou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown \nof life.\" It was natural that I should take up the idea \nin reading this, that prayers for the faithful departed \nwere needless, since he says, if they were faithful unto \ndeath they should receive a crown of life. We are \nall liable to mistakes, that is, unless we are infallible. \nIt seems, according to the Catholics, who profess to \nknow all about these matters, that the faithful don't \nget the crown of life by being faithful unto death. \nNo, they must be faithful a good while after death, \nbefore they receive it. That which they get at death \nis very different from the crown of life. They are a \nlong time absent from the body before they are pre- \nsent with the Lord. They don't go to heaven, or para- \ndise. They go to purgatory. This is the Catholic's \ncreed. It don't seem to agree altogether well with \nthe Savior's promise to the Smyrneans. A simple \nman would suppose that fidelity unto death was im- \nmediately followed by the crown of life. But they \nthat cannot err tell us otherwise. \n\nSomehow or other this doctrine of the faithful going \n\n\n\n172 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nto purgatory after death, and needing to be prayed \nout of it, seems to have been always out of the mind \nof the apostle Paul, when he had his pen in his hand, \nor was dictating to the amanuensis. He speaks of it \nas gain to die ; but surely, to exchange earth for pur- \ngatory is no gain. Air, however impure or sultry, is \nmore agreeable than the element of fire. He tells of \nhis desire to depart and be with Christ, just as if the \none immediately followed the other. He overlooked \npurgatory ; otherwise I think he would not have had \nthe desire to depart. Perhaps he thought he would \nfare as well as Lazarus, who made no stop in pur- \ngatory ; or as the penitent thief, who could not have \nmade a long one, since he was in Paradise the same \nday he died. It has always appeared to me, that ac- \ncording to the Catholic system, this man, of all others, \nshould have gone to purgatory. He never did any \npenance on earth — never bought an indulgence — he \nrepented only a few minutes before he died ; and yet \nhe goes direct to paradise ! Who then may not ? \n\nBut do they not give us chapter and verse for pray \ning for the dead ! It must be confessed they do. Here \nit is. \" It is a holy and wholesome thought to pray \nfor the dead, that they may be loosened from their \nsins.\" 2 Macb. 12 : 46. This looks like Scripture, \nthough it does not sound much like it. It passes for \nScripture with the Catholics; but it is Apocrypha. \nIt is no more holy Scripture than the Koran is. I know \nthe Catholics contend that it is as good Scripture as \nany. But ask the Jews if it is Scripture. \" Unto \nthem were committed the oracles of God.\" Ask thpm \nif the books of Maccabees were committed to them. \nThey tell you no. They were not even written in \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 173 \n\nHebrew. The New Testament abounds in quota- \ntions from the Old Testament Scriptures. I wonder \nsome of the writers of the New Testament had not \nquoted Maccabees, if it had been Scripture. I would \nask any one who reads it, if it strikes the ear as Scrip- \nture. It certainly does not. Besides, it is not in all \ncases good sense. The verse quoted in favor of pray- \ning for the dead is not good sense. They speak of \npraying for the dead as a holy thought, and of prayer \nas having an efficacy to loosen them from their sins. \nNow any child can see this to be no part of Scripture. \nBut I hasten to the prayer. \" A prayer for the suf- \nfering souls in purgatory.\" It is a curious prayer. I \nshould like to quote the whole of it. But some speci- \nmens must suffice. Here is one petition. \" Have \nmercy on those who suffer in purgatory. Look with \ncompassion on the greatness of their torments ; they \nare more keenly devoured by their ardent desire of \nbeing united to thee, than by the purging flames \nwherein they are plunged.\" Observe, here are spirits \nin flames; and they are purging flames. Fire may re- \nfine and purify certain metals, but how it should act \nin that way on souls, is beyond my comprehension. \nThe suffering occasioned by fire is very horrible; but \nit seems that it is nothing compared with what they \nsuffer from the love of God, or the \"ardent desire \nof being united to him.\" I wonder, if they have \nsuch desires after God, that they are kept in that \nsuffering state. I wonder he does not take them up \nto himself. Why should they suffer so, since Christ \nhas suffered for them, and they are the faithful who \nbelieve on him? Did not Christ suffer enough ? But, \nthe prayer proceeds: \"With them I adore thy \n\n\n\n174 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\navenging justice.\" So it seems the faithful are the \nobjects of God's avenging justice. I always thought \nthat justice exacted its full demand of Christ. I don't \nknow what the Apocrypha says about it, but holy \nScripture informs me that God can now be just, and \nthe justifier of him which believeth in Jesus ; and that \nif we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to for- \ngive them. Are not the faithful pardoned ; and how \nis pardon consistent with vengeance ? \n\nThe prayer goes on thus : \" Remember, O Lord, \nthou art their Father, and they are thy children. \nForget the faults, which, through the frailty of hu- \nman nature, they have committed against thee.\" \nThen a little farther on : \"Remember, O Lord, that \nthey are thy living members, thy faithful followers, \nthy spouses.\" Here you see these sufferers are \nGod's children ; and they are suffering for mere faults, \nwhich they fell into through frailty. This seems \nhard. But they are not only God's children; they \nare Christ's living members, his faithful followers, \nhis spouses ; and he died for them — and yet there they \nare burning — pardoned, yet suffering punishment — \ninterested in the satisfaction of Christ, yet making \nsatisfaction for themselves — paying over again the \npenalty which the Savior discharged. And this is \nthe Catholic gospel! Is it not \"another gospel?\" \nAnd yet \"not another.\" It is no gospel. It is a con- \ntradiction of the good news. \n\nI quote but one more petition : \" Deliver them, O \nmost merciful God, from that place of darkness and \ntorture, and call them to a place of refreshment, \nlight and peace.\" The reader will remember that \nthis prayer is for the faithful. It is they who, having \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 175 \n\nbeen \" faithful unto death,\" go to a place of darkness \nand torture. There they \" rest from their labors.\" \nI don't know, for my part, what worse can befall unbe- \nlievers than this. Truly, here is no great encourage- \nment to believing. What a consolitary doctrine this to \nbreak in the ear of a dying disciple ! Fear not, be of \ngood cheer, thou art but going to the place of \" dark- \nness and torture.\" Can it be Jesus who says this to \nhis faithful followers? Can this be Christian doc- \ntrine ? It certainly is not well calculated to make dy- \ning easy. With such a prospect before them, I do \nnot wonder that Catholics find it hard to die — verily \ndeath has a sting, and the grave a victory, if the Ca \ntholic doctrine of purgatory be true. \n\n\n\n48. An Improvement. \n\nI always hail improvements. I am always glad to \nsee things taking a turn for the better, even though \nthe improvement be slight. We must not despise \nhe day of small things. Rome was not built in a \nday, nor will she be overthrown in a day. A system \nthat it took centuries to introduce, cannot be expected \nto pass away all at once. Even if the improvement \nbe only in phraseology, I rejoice in it, because words \nnot only signify ideas, but sometimes generate them ', \nso that from using right words, men not unfremently \npass to holding correct ideas on subjects. \n\nThe improvement to which I refer relates to phra- \n\n\n\n176 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nseology merely. The case is this. It is the habit \namong the Catholics, some few months or so after a \nconsiderable character dies, to open the church and \nhave a service fix him. This has heretofore been an- \nnounced thus : \" High mass will be said or sung for \nthe repose of the soul of such a one, at such a time \" \n— not, the reader will understand, because the soul is \nat rest, but that it may be at rest. The service is not \neucharistic, but supplicatory. This, I observed, was \ndone in the case of a recent western bishop, and also \nin the case of Gen. La Fayette, who, some months \nafter he had died, was discovered not to be at rest. \nNow, a short time ago the Archbishop of Baltimore \ndied ; and weeks having passed away, the time came \nto take notice of his soul. Accordingly it was done. \nBut I was struck with the alteration in the wording of \nthe notice. It ran thus: \"A funeral service will be \nperformed in the cathedral for the late Most Rev. \nArchbishop Whitfield. \" This is certainly better than \nthe old way of announcing it. To be sure, it sounds \nodd to talk of a funeral service for one who was regu- \nlarly buried some months before. Protestants cannot \nreadily understand it. But waiving this, why the \nchange of phraseology ? The best explanation I can \ngive of it is this : The Catholics see that the public \nsense of the community, though sufficiently in their \nfavor, will not tolerate a thing of this kind without a \ndegree of restlessness, not a little annoying to them, \nand perhaps likely to be injurious to iheir concern. \nFor see, that reasoning animal, man, who is naturally \na logician, and can reason without ever having studied \nthe rules of reasoning, argues something like this : Ei- \nther the soul for which the mass is said is at rest, or it \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 177 \n\nis not at rest. If it is at rest, it is preposterous to pray \nfor its repose. It is asking that that may be done \nwhich has been done already. When a thing is done, \nto pray for it is superfluous. Then is the time to give \nthanks. If, on the other hand, the soul is not at rest, \nthen common sense, which is no fool, asks why they \nput off the mass so long — why they did not begin to \npray for the repose of the soul sooner. It was not \nkind in them. And common sense, which is also a \ngreat querist, inquires how they know the soul did not \ngo immediately to rest ; or if it did not, how they know \nit is not at rest weeks and months after. Common \nsense, not finding any thing about it in the Bible, \nwants to know how the Catholics get the information. \nAnd so, through fear of the investigation of common \nsense, they change the phraseology of the notice. It \nis wise. Well may the authorities of the Roman \nCatholic church stand in uread of common sense. I \ndo not know any more formidable foe of error and im- \nposition. I confidently look forward to the overthrow \nof the Catholic religion ; and I expect a great deal of \nthe work of its destruction will be done by common \nsense. I have not the dread, which some have, that \nthis religion is going to overrun our country, and rise \nto dominion here. There is too much common sense \nabroad in the length and breadth of the land to allow \nof such a result. The people of the United States \nwill think, and they have a notion that they have a \nright to think for themselves, without sending to \nRome to know if they may. And they will ask ques- \ntions on subjects, not omitting religion, and they will \ninsist on having a satisfactory answer. The inhabi- \ntants of the old world may, if they please, believe on \n\n\n\n178 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe ipse dixit of the Pope, but we of the new, before \nwe yield our assent, require a \" Thus saith the Lord,\" \nor a \"quod erat demonstrandum,\" or something of \nthat nature. You can never get a majority here to \nbelieve in contradiction of the five senses. They will \nstick to it that a thing is what they see and feel and \ntaste it to be— in other words, that bread is bread. \n\n\n\n49. The Bulce of Brunswick's Fiftieth Reason. \n\nA certain Duke of Brunswick, having many years \nago abjured Lutheranism, and become a Catholic, \nthought it necessary to apologize to the world for his \nchange of religion. It needed an apology. So he \nwrote downffty reasons to justify the course he had \npursued, and had them printed in a little book, which \nis entitled \" Fifty Reasons why the Roman Catholic \nreligion ought to be preferred to all others.\" This \nbook the Catholics have free permission to read. O \nyes— they may read any book but the Bible. There \nis no objection to their reading books which contain \nthe thoughts of men ; but the book which contains \nthe thoughts of God is interdicted ! Men know how \nto express themselves. Men can write intelligibly. \nBut ! ! \n\nFifty reasons ! The Duke must have been conscious, \nI suppose, that his reasons were u-eaA', otherwise he \nwould have been satisfied with a less number than \nfifty. Why does a man want fifty reasons for a thing \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 179 \n\nwhen one good reason is sufficient ? / have but one \ngeneral reason for not being a Catholic, and I consider \nthat enough. It is that the Catholic religion is not \nthe religion of the Bible. It is not the religion which \nMatthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, James, Jude, and \nPeter wrote about, as any one may see who will \ncompare the Holy Scriptures with the Council of \nTrent. But you see, the Duke, feeling that he had \nnot one good reason for turning Catholic, gives us fifty \npoor ones ; thinking to make up for the weakness of \nhis reasons by the number of them ; and calculating \nthat fifty poor reasons would certainly be equivalent \nto one good one. \n\nFifty reasons ! I shall not now inquire what the \nforty-nine were. But what do you think the sapient \nDuke's fiftieth reason was— his closing, crowning \nreason— that with which he capped the climax— the \nreason which, having brought out, he rested from very \nexhaustion, consequent on the amazing effort of mind \nby which it was excogitated ? \n\nThe fiftieth reason ! I will give it to you in his own \nwords, which I quote from an edition of his reasons, \npublished by one of the very best Catholics in the \nland, so that there can be no mistake about it. After \ngoing on about something else, he says, \" Besides that, \nthe Catholics, to whom I spoke concerning my salva- \ntion, assured me that, if I were to be damned for em- \nbracing the Catholic faith, they were ready to answer \nfor me at the Day of Judgment, and to take my dam- \nnation upon themselves ; an assurance I could never \nextort from the ministers of any sect, in case I should \nlive and die in their region. From whence I infer- \nred, the Roman Catholic faith was built on a better \n\n\n\n180 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nfoundation than any of those sects that have divided \nfrom it.\" Prodigious !— and there he stops. 1 think \nit was time. \n\nI do not know whether to make any comment on \nthis reason or not. Sometimes comment is unneces- \nsary, and even injurious. I wonder the Catholics are \nnot ashamed of this reason. Indeed, I suspect the in- \ntelligent ones among them do blush for it, and wish \nthe Duke had stopped at forty-nine. \n\nBut let us look at it a minute. It seems the Duke was \nwon over by the generosity of the Catholics. They \nagreed that if he were to be damned for embracing \ntheir faith, (they admit the possibility that he might be ; \nwhereas, the Protestant ministers whom he consulted \nwere too well assured of the truth of their religion to \nallow of the supposition,) they would take his place, \nand be damned for him. Now I wonder the Duke had \nnot reflected— (but there are stupid Dukes— this was \na nobleman, but not one of nature's noblemen)— that \nthose very Catholics, who made him this generous \noffer, if their faith was false, would have to be damned \nfor themselves ! That which should leave him with- \nout a title to heaven, would equally leave them with- \nout one. I wonder the Duke so readily believed that \nthe substitution would be accepted. What if they \nwere willing to suffer perdition in his place ! The \nJudge might object to the arrangement. What igno- \nrance and stupidity it manifests, to suppose that one \nmay suffer in hell for another, just as one serves m \nthe army for another! What an idea such persons \nmust have of the nature of future punishment, to sup- \npose that it is transferable ! I should like to know \nhow one man is to suffer remorse for another. And \n\n\n\nk \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 181 \n\nagain, what an admirable exemplification of the spirit \nof Christianity, that one should consent, on any con- \ndition, to lie in hell, for ever, sinning and blaspheming \nGod ! I am sincerely glad that no Protestant minis- \nter could be found to give his consent to an eternity \nof enmity against God. But the Catholics whom the \nDuke consulted, they loved the Lord so that they \nwere willing to sin against him for ever and ever, with \never-increasing malignity of opposition, for the sake \nof saving their noble proselyte ! \" FROM WHENCE \nI INFERRED,\" says the Duke, (but you have no \ncapitals large enough for this conclusion,) \" the Ro- \nman Catholic faith was built on a better foundation \nthan any of those sects that have divided from it.\" \nAdmirable dialectician ! He must be Aristotle him- \nself, by metempsychosis. \n\nI think that those who wish to live and die Catho- \nlics, had better keep their eyes shut. It is the safer \nway. If they open them almost any where, they will \nbe in danger. \n\n\n\n50. The Duke's Seventh Reason. \n\nThe Duke's fiftieth reason has been the subject of \nan article. Each of his reasons might be made the \nsubject of one, but that would be giving them too \nmuch consequence. I have selected the seventh for \nsome remarks, because I have several times, in con- \nversation with Catholics, heard it alleged, and some \nconsiderable stress laid on it. The drift of it is this : \n. Protestants acknowledge that some Roman Catholics \n16 \n\n\n\n182 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ntnay be saved, but Catholics contend that no Protes- \ntants can be saved. Therefore it is better and safer \nto be a Catholic, than a Protestant ! But, perhaps, I \nhad better Let his Serene Highness speak for himself \nHe says : \" But what still confirmed me in my resolu- \ntion of embracing the Roman Catholic faith was this, \nthat the heretics themselves confess Roman Catholics \nmay be saved, whereas, these maintain there is no \nsalvation for such as are out of the Roman Catholic \nchurch.\" Let us examine this reasoning. Catholics \nMay that there is no salvation out of their church, and \ntherefore, by all means, we should belong to it. But \ndoes their saying so make it so ? Is this very chari- \ntable doctrine of the Catholics of course trice ? Is it \nso very clear that none are saved but the greatest bi- \ngots—none saved but those who affirm, and are ready \nto swear that none others but themselves can be saved ? \nHave Roman Catholics never affirmed any thing but \nwhat was strictly true, so that from their uniform ve- \nracity and accuracy, we may infer that they must be \ncorrect in this statement ? Let history answer that \nquestion. This is more than we claim even for Pro- \ntestants. No salvation except for Catholics ! Ah, and \nwhere is the chapter and verse for that. I don't think \nthat even the Apocrapha can supply them. If subse- \nquent Popes have taught the doctrine, he who is reck- \noned by Catholics to have been the first Pope, did \nnot. It is rather unkind, perhaps, to quote Peter \nagainst his alleged successors, but a regard to truth \ncompels me to do it. It is true, Peter once thought \nthat a person must be an Israelite to be saved, just \nas our Catholics hold that a person must be a Cath- \nolic in order to be saved; but the case of Come- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 183 \n\nlius cured him of that prejudice. That led him to \nsay as recorded, Acts 10 : 34, 35, \" Of a truth I per- \nceive that God is no respecter of persons, but in eve- \nry nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteous- \nness, is accepted with him.\" This sounds a little differ- \nent from the Duke's premises. It is a little unlike the \nlanguage of later Popes. They have not taken their \ncue from Peter. Peter was a little of a Catholic at \nfirst, but he soon got rid of it. \n\nNow, if what the Catholics say about there being \nno salvation out of their church, is not true — if there \nis no Scripture for it, but much against it — if even \nPeter controverts it, it certainly does not constitute a \nvery good reason for being a Catholic. Suppose that \nProtestants should give out to the world that none \nbut themselves can be saved, would that make Protes- \ntantism any better, or safer, or worthier of adoption ? \nWould our religion be more entitled to reception, if \nwe should publish that Fenelon was lost forever, and \nthat Pascal was excluded from heaven, and Masillon \ntoo, just because they were not Protestants, but in \ncommunion with the Church of Rome ? I think not. \nNor can I think that the Roman Catholic religion is \nentitled to increased respect and veneration, because \nCatholics assert as an undoubted verity, that such men \nas Locke. Newton, Leighton, Howard, and many \nothers are beyoud all question, in hell, not even ad- \nmitted to purgatory, because, forsooth, they were not \nCatholics. \n\nBut the Duke's inference is from a double premiss. \nNot only do Catholics say no Protestant can be saved j \nbut Protestants allow that Catholics may. If Protes- \ntants w^re to say that Catholics could not be saved, \n\n\n\n1S4 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthen they would be even with each other, and tnere \ncould be no argument in the case. But since Protes- \ntants allow that others besides themselves may be \nsaved, while Catholics deny it, therefore the Catholic \nreligion is the safer. See what credit the Catholics \ngive our declarations when they seem to work in their \nfavor. They build a whole argument on one. Why \ndo they not give us equal credence, when we declare \nthat the probability of salvation among Protestants is \nmuch greater than among Catholics ? \n\nBut what is it after all that Protestants allow? \nThey allow that some Roman Catholics may be sav- \ned. They allow that the fact of a person's being ex- \nternally related to the Catholic church does not of it- \nself shut him out from salvation — that if he believes \nwith his heart in the Lord Jesus, and truly repents of \nhis sins, he will be saved, though a Catholic : and \nthat the fact of his being a Catholic, though much \nagainst him, does not preclude the possibility of his \nbeing a genuine penitent and a true believer. This \nis the length and breadth of our admission. It admits, \nas every one must see, not that there is salvation by \nthe Catholic religion, but in spite of it, to some who \nprofessedly adhere to that religion. If a Catholic \nholds understandingly to the merit of good works, the \ninsufficiency of Christ's sacrifice, the worship of crea- \ntures, or similar unscriptural doctrines, we do not see \nhow he can be saved ; but we believe many, called Ca- \ntholics, reject these doctrines in fact, though not per- \nhaps in word, and rely on Christ's atonement alone \nfor salvation. Now if Catholics are so absurd as not \nto admit in our favor as much as we admit in theirs, \nwe can't help it, and we don't ca^e for it. It is just \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 185 \n\nas they please. We shall not take back our admis- \nsion for the sake of making proselytes to Protestant- \nism — and if they can draw off any from us by their \nexclusive notions, they are welcome to them. \n\nBut I must call the reader's attention to the extent \nof the Duke's inference. He infers the perfect safety \nof the Catholic religion, because Protestants admit \nthat some Catholics may be saved ! But is that a safe \nspot of which this only can be said that some of the \npersons occupying it. may possibly escape ? And is it \nmadness to occupy any other spot? The Duke ex- \nclaims, \"What a madness then were it, for any man \nnot to go over to the Roman Catholics, who may be \nsaved in the judgment of their adversaries : but to \nsort himself with these, who, according to Roman \nCatholics, are out of the way V* What a madness in- \ndeed, not to join a people who may not all be lost ! O \nwhat a madness to continue to be Protestants, when \nRoman Catholics say that they are out of the way ! \nWhat if they do say so? What if every Jesuit mis- \nsionary has ever so constantly affirmed ? I suppose a \nJesuit can say what is not so, as well as any body \nelse. I suppose it is not naturally impossible for one \nbeing a Jesuit, I will not say to lie, but to err. He \ngoes on like a very Aristotle. \" Who would not ad- \nvise a man to take the safest way when he is threat- \nened with any evident danger?\" Certainly noble \nDuke, the safest way ; but not of course tne way \nwhich some say is safest. There are a great many \nsafest ways, if all which are said to be safest, are so. \nBut his higness proceeds : \" And does not that way \nwhich two opposite parties approve of, promise great- \ner security than another which one party only recom- \n16* \n\n\n\n186 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nmends, and which the other condemns ?\" But that is \nnot so. The two parties do not approve of it. So far \nfrom it that the Protestant declares the Catholic way \nto be an exceedingly dangerous way, while his own \nway, though pronounced by the Catholic to be fatal, \ncan claim the most respectable testimony that it is the \ntrue and safe way. Then comes an illustration, which \nlike a great many other illustrations, is well con \nstructed, but happens to be totally inapplicable to the \ncase in hand, \" Who, in fine, can doubt, but that a \nmedicine prescribed by two physicians may be taken \nwith more security than another which one of the two \njudges may be his death ?\" How the Duke rolls on \nhis argument ! Just now the Protestant only admitted \nthe possibility of the Catholic's salvation. Then he \nis represented as approving the Catholic way — and \nimmediately after as prescribing it ! It is easy prov- \ning any thing, if one may make facts to suit his pur- \npose. I believe it is not true that Protestants pre- \nscribe the Catholic religion to those who ask them \nwhat they shall do to be saved. \n\nPeople must become Catholics, if they please, but I \nwould advise them to look out for better reasons for \nthe change than the Duke of Brunswick's fifty ; and \nespecially than this, his seventh. It is a poor reason \nfor becoming a Catholic that they say they are the \npeople, and haughtily bid all others stand by, because \nthey are holier. I cannot think it so great a recom \nmendation of a religion, that it denounces, and so fa, \nas it can, damns all who cannot see their way clea\\ \nto embrace it. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPEltY. 1S7 \n\n\n\n51. The Duke's Eleventh Reason. \n\nI don't know what is to become of our Protestant \nreligion, with so many reasons against it. I don't \nknow but we shall all have to go back again to the \nCatholic church, compelled by the cogency of argu- \nment. Fifty reasons why the Roman Catholic reli- \ngion ought to be preferred to all others ! Only think. \nAnd some of them that I don't find any answer to in \nany Protestant writer ! Such a one is the eleventh of \nthe formidable series. In the three preceding rea- \nsons or considerations, as he calls them, the Duke \nhad been giving us the result of his inquiries. It \nseems he was quite an investigator. He searched \nalmost every book but the Scriptures. He looked \nfor what he wanted every where but where the thiDg \nwas. When a man is inquiring after the truth, and \nconsults the philosophers, the fathers, the martyrs, \nand all the saints, I cannot see where is the harm of \njust looking into the prophets, the evangelists, and \nthe apostles too. I don't know why they should be \ntreated with such neglect ; I think they are quite as \nrespectable writers as some of the fathers. But be \nthis as it may, the Duke, in his eighth consideration, \ntells us about his consulting the writings of the an- \ncient fathers, to find what they would advise him to \ndo, whether to embrace the Roman Catholic faith or \nno. And he says they all told him to be a Roman \nCatholic by all means. Then says he in his ninth \nconsideration, \"I appealed to the saints of God, and \nasked them what was the faith they lived in, and by \nwhich they arrived at eternal bliss.\" And they said, \n\n\n\n188 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nnot that they had \"washed their robes and made \nthem white in the blood of the Lamb,\" in accordance \nwith the account given of some other saints in Rev. \n7, but \"they all made answer, it was the Roman \nfaith.\" By the way, the Catholics have an advantage \nover us Protestants. They know just who are saints \nand have a way of consulting them after they are \ndead. We are not equal to those things. Why, the \nDuke even tells us the names of those who made an- \nswer. \" Thus,\" says he, \"I was answered by St. Mar- \ntin, St. Nicholas, St. Athanasius, and many more \namong the bishops ; among the religious, by St. Do- \nminick (!?) St. Francis, &c. Among the widows, by \nSt. Monica, St. Bridget, St. Elizabeth, &c. Among \nthe virgins, by St. Agatha, St. Lucy, St. Agnes, St. \nCatharine, &c.\" I think if a Protestant had had the \nprivilege of cross-examining the above when the \nDuke consulted them, the result might have been \nsomewhat different. But no Protestant had notice \nof his intention to carry his inquiries into that quar- \nter. The Duke was determined to make thorough \nwork of it. Therefore, in his tenth consideration he \ntells us: \"Then I turned to the holy martyrs, and \ninquired what faith it was for the truth of which they \nspilt their blood.\" They answered it was the Roman \nCatholic. \"This,\" he says, \"I was assured of by \nthirty-three bishops of Rome, who were crowned \nwith martyrdom ; by the saints Cyprian, Sebastian, \nLaurence; by St. Agatha, St. Cecily, St. Dorothy, \nSt. Barbara, and an infinite number of other saints.\" \nThey all told the same story. \" Then,\" says the Duke, \n\" I wound up my argument.\" But he concluded on the \nwhole, before winding it up, to let it run down a little \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 1S9 \n\nlower. And this brings us to his eleventh reason. \nThe reader will please prepare himself now for a \nprostrating argument. \"My next step was in \nthought to hell, where I found in condemnation to \neverlasting torments, Simon Magus, Novatus Vigi- \nlantius, Pelagius, Nestorius, Macedonius, Marcion, \n&c.\" May I never be under the necessity of descend- \ning so low for an argument ! But the Duke does not \nsay that he actually went to the bad place, but he \nwent in thought. There, having gone in thought, he \nfound so and so. Here is another advantage the Ca \ntholics have over us. They know who are in hell. \nWe do not. Perhaps some are not there who we \nmay fear are. We do not hold ourselves qualified to \njudge in these matters. Well, he found them there. \nHe was quite sure not one of them had repented and \nbeen saved. And he asked them how they came \nthere, and they very civilly answered that \" it was \nfor their breaking off from the Roman Catholic \nchurch.\" Now this is the argument that I have not \nseen answered by any Protestant writer, as far as \nI can recollect. I don't read of any Protestant who \nwent even in thought to hell to consult the lost on the \npoints in controversy between us and the Catholics. \nSo that the Catholics have the whole of this argu- \nment to themselves. The Duke says they told him \nthey were there for not being Catholics, and we have \nno counter testimony. Protestantism, however, hav- \ning so many other \" witnesses on the truth\" of her \nsystem, can easily do without the testimony of \" the \nspirits in prison.\" Let that be for the Catholics. But \nby the way, I wonder that the Duke relied so unhesi- \ntatingly on the testimony of those persons. How \n\n\n\n190 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndoes he know they told the truth ? Are not all such \ncalled in Scripture \" the children of the devil,\" and \ndoes not every body know his character for veracity ? \nIt is certainly an extraordinary answer for one ot \nthem, Simon Magus, to give, considering the time \nwhen he lived. How could he say with truth that he \nwas there for breaking off from the Roman Catholic \nchurch, when at the date of his apostacy the Gospel \nhad never been preached at Rome? There was no \nRoman church to break off from. \n\nI was expecting that the Duke would push his in- \nquiries yet one step farther, and, seeing he was on \nthe spot, interrogate Satan in regard to the true re- \nligion. But he does not seem to have consulted \" the \nfather of lying,\" but only the children. The truth is, \nthe Devil does not wait to be consulted on that sub- \nject, but makes his suggestions to \" them that dweL \non the earth,\" without being called on so to do. \n\nI hope the Reformed religion will be able to stand \nthe shock of this argument, notwithstanding the \ndoubt I expressed in the beginning. \n\n\n\n53. Beauties of the Leopold Reports. \n\nI have been not a little interested with the extracts \nrecently published from the Reports of the Leopold \nSociety in Austria, and it has struck me that I might \ndo some service, especially to those who have not the \ntime or the patience to read long articles, by calling \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 191 \n\nthe attention of the 'public to the choice parts of the \nreports ; for even where all is good, you know, there \nare generally portions here and there of superior ex- \ncellence. Will you allow me, then, to point out some of \nthe beauties of the reports? What has struck me with \npeculiar force, will probably affect others as forcibly. \nNow I have admired the way in which the report \nspeaks of conversions. It seems that these Catholics \ncan foresee conversions with as much certainty as we, \npoor blind Protestants, can look back on them ! F. \nBaraga writes, under date of March 10, 1832 : \" I long \nfor the arrival of spring, when I shall have numerous \nconversions ! !\" Now, I am aware that the face of na- \nture is renewed when spring appears, but 1 did not \nknow this was as true of the souls of men. It is news \nto me that conversions can be foreseen with such per- \nfect accuracy. It is hard to foresee what men will do. \nBut here is a foreseeing of what God will do, unless \nthey deny that conversion is his work ! But what \nmakes our Catholic brother speak so confidently of \nthe conversions that were to take place ? How did \nhe know it ? Why, forsooth, some had promised him \nthat they would be converted in the spring. \" There \nare many pagan Indians,\" he says, \" who promised me \nlast summer and fall, that they would in the spring \nembrace the Christian religion !\" This beats all. \nWhy, if they were convinced of the truth of the \nChristian religion, did they not embrace it at once ? \nWhy put it off till after the 1st of March ? But not \nonly had some promised him on their honor that they \nwould be converted, but he says : \" From two other \ncounties I have received assurances, that many of the \nIndians there would be converted to. the Christian reli- \n\n\n\n192 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ngion, if I would come and preach the gospel to them ! 5 \nYou see they had told others, who told Baraga, that \nthey would. It came very straight. He speaks par- \nticularly of a Christian Indian who had brought him \nthe intelligence. Now observe, they had never heard \na word of the gospel — neither knew what it was, nor \nhow confirmed ! Yet they promised to embrace it — \npromised to believe, and be converted — to have their \nhearts changed — to be born again ! I know that God \npromises, \" A new heart will I give you,\" but I never \nknew before that any man, and especially one who \nhad never heard the gospel, could look ahead and say, \n\" at such a time I will have a new heart.\" Baraga \nsays, \"I cannot describe the joy such assurances give \nme.\" We Protestants are not so easily made happy \nby the promises of the unconverted. \n\nAgain, I have been struck with the manner in which \nBaraga speaks of the mother of Jesus, under date \nof July ], 1832 : \" When I decided to be a missiona- \nry,\" he says, \" I promised our heavenly mother that I \nwould consecrate to her the first church I should con- \nsecrate among the Indians, for I am convinced she \nwill pray her Son continually for the progress of our \nmissions.\" Our heavenly mother ! ! Our heavenly \nFather is a phrase dear to every Christian heart; but \nit is the first time I ever heard we had a heavenly \nmother. O ! O ! Will the reader pause a moment and \ninquire the meaning of the word idolatry ? Baraga \npromised her ? Where had they the interview when \nthat promise was made ? He must have been praying \nto her. And why was the promise made ? Because \n\"I am convinced she will pray her Son.\" What! \nprayer in heaven ! John, in Patmos, heard praise in \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 193 \n\nheaven, but not prayer. I know there is one advocate \nin heaven, Jesus Christ the righteous, who over liveth \nto make intercession. That one is enough. But here \nwe are told of another advocate on high — a mediatrix. \nAnd she prays to her son — mediates between him and \nsinners. What ! Do we need a mediator between us \nand Christ ? I always knew we needed a mediator \nbetween God and us ; but I supposed we need go di- \nrectly and immediately to Christ, since he is himself \na mediator. Baraga says presently after, \" thanks be \nto Mary, gracious mother, who ever prays for the con- \nversion of the heathen.\" Now, if all this is not idola- \ntry, I wish some body could tell me what idolatry is. \nI would as soon undertake to defend the worship of \nthe golden calf as this. \n\nFinally, what power these Catholic priests have ! \nProtestant ministers are only \" mighty through God.' 5 \nBut the priests can succeed without that help. Father \nSenderl writes : \" Young people of sixteen years, \nand not unfrequently older persons, have never con- \nfessed nor communed ; (taken the half sacrament, I \nsuppose he means.) I prepare them for both, and for \nconfirmation.\" /prepare them ! And another writes \nconcerning Baraga, that he achieves wonders of sal- \nvation among the Ottawas. \n\nThis is a specimen of the religion which Prince \nMetternich fy Co. our Austrian brethren, those dear \nlovers of liberty, are benevolently contributing to give \nus here in America. They are afraid that our free \ninstitutions will not be permanent unless they help us \nto prop them up with the Catholic religion ! Timeo \nMetternich et donaferentem. [I fear Metternich, even \nsending gifts.] \n\n17 \n\n\n\n194 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n53. Beauties of the Leopold Reports. \n\nPuerility of the Catholic Religion. \n\nWhat a puerile religion the Catholic religion is ! \nHow childish I How petty its cares ! About what \ntrifles it concerns itself ! The Christian is truly \" the \nhighest style of man,\" but the consistent Catholic is \nnot much above the lowest. Baraga writes as follows: \n\" It would be of essential service to our missions, if \nthere could be sent us cups, boxes for the holy wafer, \nrosaries, crucifixes — of the last two, as many as pos- \nsible, for such articles cannot be bought here. How \nit is with church furniture and linen, you may easily \nthink. Those given to me by pious persons are of great \nuse to me, and I cannot be thankful enough for them.\" \nCannot be thankful enough for boxes, rosaries, &c. ! ! \nHis capacity for gratitude must be small indeed. We \nProtestants often feel that we cannot be thankful \nenough, but it is not for such trumpery as cups and \nboxes. When we feel and lament over the inadequacy \nof our gratitude, it is in view of the many and great \nmercies of God to us. I suppose our Protestant mis- \nsionaries at Ceylon, and elsewhere, would not be so \nvery grateful if we should send them a consignment \nof cups, boxes, &c. No : such things could not be of \nessential service to their missions. We do not under- \nstand converting people as the Catholics do. They can \nregenerate and pardon, and do all the rest in a trice. \nWe have to bring before the mind of the sinner the \ngreat-saving truth of Christ crucified ; but they have \nonly to put the little crucifix in his hand. I went, a \nshort time ago, to visit a man under sentence of death, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 195 \n\nto talk to him about Christ and his death. I found him \ngazing intently on a little metallic image of Christ \ncrucified, which a priest had left him. He seemed \nindifferent to all I said. The priest had 'prepared him ! \n\nIn a note to Baraga's letter, we are told of a great \nnumber of Catholic notions that are already on their \nway to America ; among them three thousand rosa* \nvies I What a sight of beads ! How their missions \nmust prosper after this ! A little afterwards, by way \nof inducing others to contribute beads, boxes, &c. it is \nsaid : \" The good Christian rejoices to promote th ) \nexternal honor of the house of God, so that the inne ' \nman, by the splendor of the external divine worship \nmay be lifted to heaven.\" What a sage sentiment \nHow scriptural ! How philosophical too ! This is \ntruly a new way of being lifted to heaven. \n\nBut I must not overlook a letter of Bishop Fenwick, \ndated Mackinac, July 1, 1831. He writes : \" On the \nsecond day after my arrival, Mr. M. and I preached at \ndifferent times after mass. When the people had heard \nsome sermons, confessions began ; and from that time \ntill the day of our departure, we sat on the confession \nstool from early morning till 1 o'clock, and in the af- \nternoon, from 3 or 4 o'clock, till 10, 11, and twice till \n12 at night. There were confessions of twenty, thirty, \nand forty years.\" What a prodigious memory they \nmust have had, who called to mind and confessed the \nsins of forty years ! All that time they were waiting \nfor a priest to come along. There was the God who \ndelighted in mercy, to whom they might have confess- \ned, as the publican dared to do ; and there was \"Jesus \nthe mediator of the new covenant,\" whom they might \nat anv time have engaged to intercede for them. But \n\n\n\n196 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthat would not have been to act the part of good Ca- \ntholics. The good Catholic does not go to the mercy- \nseat of God to confess his sins and obtain forgiveness, \n(that were an \" iniquity to be punished by the judges,\") \nbut he waits for the priest to come along with his con- \nfession-stool. The confession-stool substituted in the \nplace of the mercy-seat ! This is one of the doings \nof that religion which Austria wants to give us. God \nsays to sinners, \" Come unto me,\" and he promises \nthat he will \" abundantly pardon them from his throne \nof grace.\" \" Nay,\" says the priest, \"wait till I come \nwith my little stool.\" Catholics may, if they please, \ngo for pardon and mercy to the stool of confession — \nbut, my Protestant brethren, \"Let us come boldly unto \nthe throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and \nfind grace to help in time of need.\" \n\n\n\n54. Partiality of the Church of Rome. \n\nThere is nothing of which I am more perfectly cer- \ntain than that the religion of the church of Rome is \nnot the religion of Jesus Christ. I do not care to say \nwhat it is — but it is not Christianity. How can they \nbe the same, when they differ so widely ? Midnight \nand noon are not more unlike. I will specify one point \nof difference. Romanism is partial. She is a re- \nspecter of persons. Christianity is the very opposite \nof this. And not only is the church of Rome partial, \nbut her partialities are all in favor of the rich. Now \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 197 \n\nChristianity, if it leans in any direction, inclines to- \nwards the poor. It was one sign that the Messiah \nwas come in the per? on of Jesus of Nazareth, that \n\" the poor had the Gospel preached to them.\" They \nwere not overlooked ; far from it. \" Hearken,\" says \none, \" hath not God chosen the poor of this world, \nrich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he has \npromised to them that love him.\" The poor had never \nsuch a friend as Christ. He was himself poor. He \nhad experience of the privations, cares, and sorrows \nof that condition. So poor was he that he had not \nwhere to lay his head. No lodging-place at night had \nhe in all that world which his word created and his \nhand sustained. The poor are peculiarly his brethren. \nAnd think you, then, that he has opened a wider door \nof entrance into heaven to the rich than to the poor 1 \nThink you that he has connected with the condition \nof the rich man an advantage whereby he may sooner \nor more easily obtain admittance into the place of his \nglorious presence ? I do not believe it. But this is \nwhat the church of Rome teaches. She preaches bet- \nter tidings to the rich than to the poor — Christ did not. \nBut I must make good this charge against the church \nof Rome. I do it thus : According to her creed, all \nsouls, except, perhaps, now and then one, of every \ncondition, go, on their leaving the body, to purgatory. \nThere they are. Now to get them out. How does she \nsay that is to be done? Why, they must either suffer \nout their time, (that is, all the time which remains af- \nter subtracting all the indulgences that were purchased \nand paid for,) or their release must be effected by the \nefficacy of prayers and masses said for them by the \nfaithful on earth. You remember that mass was per- \n]7* \n\n\n\n198 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nformed lately by the Catholic congress assembled in \nBaltimore, for the repose of the souls of two deceased \nbishops. There is no other way . Christ's sacrifice does \nnot give rest to the soul, according to the Catholics, un- \nless the sacrifice of the mass be added to it ! Well, how \nare these masses, so necessary to the repose and re- \nlease of the soul, to be had ? Why, how do you sup- \npose, but by paying for them! Give the priests \nmoney, and they will say them. At any rate, they \npromise that they will. Now, do you not see the ad- \nvantage which money gives a man in the church of \nRome, and the hardships of being a poor Catholic ? \nI wonder any poor man should think the Catholic re- \nligion the religion of Christ. Verily, Popery is no \nreligion for poverty. What did our Savior mean, when \nhe said, \" How hardly shall they that have riches en- \nter into the kingdom of God ?\" According to the Ca- \ntholic doctrine, they are the very men that enter most \neasily — they having the wherewith to purchase indul- \ngences and masses. It is the poor, according to this \nscheme, that with difficulty enter in. They have to \nserve their time out in purgatory — whereas, the rich \ncan buy their time off. \n\nBut is the thing managed in this way ? Are not \nmasses said for all that die in the Catholic faith ? Yes, \nthere is a day in the year called All-soul's day, (it \ncomes on the 2d of November. Alas for the poor Ca- \ntholic who dies on the 3d, for he has to wait a whole \nyear for a mass,) when all of them are prayed for. \nThe poor share in the benefit of the masses said on \nthat day ; but what does it amount to, when you con- \nsider the millions of Catholics that die every year, \nand the many millions not yet out of the fire, among \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 199 \n\nwhom the benefit is to be divided ? It is not like \nhaving a mass said for one's soul in particular. But \nthat is the privilege of the rich. \n\nNow I do not believe that it is the religion of the \nblessed Jesus that makes this distinction in favor of \nthe rich. I believe that Christ brought as good news \nfrom heaven to the poor as to the rich. I believe that \nevery blessing which he has to dispose of may be \nbought without money and without price. See Isa. \n55 : 1. I believe that \" whosoever will,\" may \" take \nof the water of life freely.\" Rev. 22 : 17. This is \nmy creed. \n\nThere was poor Lazarus. I reckon he went to hea- \nven as soon after he died as he would have done if he \nhad had millions of money to leave to the church ; and \nI reckon the angels were as tender and careful of his \nsoul as if he had been clothed in purple and fared \nsumptuously every day. And he was a poor man to \nwhom the dying Savior said, \" To-day shalt thou be \nwith me in Paradise.\" If there was ever a man who, \naccording to the Catholic doctrine, should have gone \nto purgatory, and remained a great while there, it was \nthat thief. But you see he did not go there. Christ \ntook him with him immediately to paradise. He went \nthere without penance, without extreme unction, with- \nout confession to a priest, without a single mass being \nsaid for him, in utter outrage of all the rules of the \nchurch ! I don't think that Joseph of Arimathea, rich \nas he was, could have got to heaven sooner than that \npenitent thief. But Christ always considered the \npoor; and that is not Christianity which does not \nconsider them. \n\nAs I said in former pieces that I had no faith in \n\n\n\n200 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsalvation by fire, or in salvation by oil, I say no\\» ( \nhave no faith in salvation by money. \n\nI will close with a syllogism. Christianity makes \nit as easy for a poor man to get to heaven, as for one \nthat is rich. This is my ma or proposition. Who \ndare dispute it ? But the church of Rome makes it not \ns'.o easy for a poor man to get to heaven as one that is \nrich. This is my minor proposition, and this I have \nshown. Who dare deny it ? Now my conclusion is, \ntherefore, the religion of the church of Rome is not \nChristianity. \n\n\n\n55. Supererogation. \n\n\n\nThis long word was coined by the Catholics for \ntheir own special use, as was also that longer and \nharder word transubstantiation. Nobody else finds \nany occasion for it. It expresses what the rest of \nmankind think has no real existence. If the reader \nis acquainted with the Latin, (that language which \nthe church of Rome extols so high above the Hebrew \nand Greek, the languages of God's choice — and in \nwhich she says we ought all to say our prayers, whe- \nther we know it or not,) he will see that supereroga- \ntion is compounded of two words, and signifies lite- \nrally above what is required. It designates that \noverwork in the service of God which certain good \nCatholics in all ages are supposed to have done. Af- \nter doing all the good which God requires of them \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 201 \n\nthen what they do over and above that, tney call su- \npererogation. It expresses how much more they love \nGod than they are required to love him. He claims, \nyou know, to be loved with all the heart, and soul, and \nstrength, and mind. This is the first and great com- \nmand. And observe, it is with all of each. Now, \nwhen the Catholic has fully satisfied this claim, he \nenters upon the work of supererogation ; and all that \nhe does in the way of loving God after loving him \nwith all the four, heart, strength, soul, and mind, is \nset down to this account, be it more or less. Might \nI just ask here, for information, if a man is required \nto love God with all his strength, that is, with his \nwhole ability, how can he do more? It seems that \nwhatever he can do, is required to be done. How \nCatholics contrive to do more than they can, I, for my \npart, do not know. It is a mystery to Protestants. \nWe are in the dark on this subject. \n\nLet me tell you more about this supererogation. It \nexpresses how much more Catholics are than 'perfect. \nPerfect, you know, we are all required to be — perfect, \n\" even as our Father who is in heaven is perfect.\" \nMatt. 5 : 48. And in another place, even by Peter \nit is said, \" As he which has called you is holy, so be \nye holy in all manner of conversation.\" Now, when one \nis holy as he who hath called him is holy, and holy \nin all manner of conversation, in so far as he is more \nholy than this, since this is all that is required, the \nsurplus is set down to the account of supererogation ! \nIn other words, supererogation expresses the superflu- \nous glory which men give to God, after glorifying him \nin their bodies and spirits, which are his, and doing \nall whatsoever they do, even to the matter of eating \n\n\n\n202 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nand drinking, to his glory ! See 1 Cor. 6 : 27, and Acts, \n10 : 31. This is supererogation. I hope the reader un- \nderstands it. \n\nNow, those who do these works of supererogation, \nhave of course more merit than they have any occa- \nsion for on their own account ; and as this excess of \nmerit ought by no means to be lost, the church of \nRome has with great economy treasured it up for the \nbenefit of those who are so unfortunate as to do less \nthan what is required, to whom it is, at the discretion \nof the church, and for value received, served out in \nthe way of indulgences. This is the article that Tet- \nzel was dealing in so largely and lucratively, when one \nMartin Luther started up in opposition to the traffic. \nProtestants have never dealt in the article of indul- \ngences. \n\nBy the way, the wise virgins of whom we read in \nMatthew, 25, seem not to have been acquainted with \nthis doctrine of supererogation ; for when the foolish \nvirgins, in the lack of oil, applied to them for a sea- \nsonable supply, they answered, \" not so : lest there be \nnot enough for us and you.\" They had only enough \nfor themselves. \n\nBut, say the Catholics, are there not counsels in the \nBible, as well as precepts — certain things which are \nrecommended, though not required ? If so, and a per- \nson, besides obeying the precepts, complies with the \ncounsels, doing not only what is required, but also \nwhat is recommended, is not here a foundation for \nworks of supererogation ? This is plausible, but that \nis all. My motto being brevity, I shall not attempt \nan extended answer to it, but take these few things. \n\n1. If there are counsels recommending things which \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 203 \n\nno precepts require, yet obedience to these counsels \ncannot constitute works of supererogation, and accu- \nmulate merit, unless all the 'precepts are perfectly- \nobeyed. A man must do all that is required, before \nhe can do more than what is required. Now, has any \nmere man since the fall perfectly obeyed all the com- \nmandments of God ? Has any man done all his duty ? \nIf not, I reckon no one has done more than his duty. \nWe don't generally go beyond a thing until after we \nhave come up to it. A cup does not usually run over \nbefore it- is full. But, \n\n2. According to this doctrine of the church of Rome, \nmen are capable of a higher virtue than God has re- \nquired ! They can, and actually do, perform virtuous \nand holy acts which belong to neither of the tables of \nthe law, and which are comprehended neither in the \nlove of God nor in the love of man ! Is this idea ad- \nmissible? The Psalmist says, \"thy commandment is \nexceeding broad.\" But according to this doctrine, the \nvirtue of the Catholic is broader. I, however, don't \nbelieve it. \n\n3. There is no counsel which docs not become a \nprecept or command, provided it be found that God \ncan be more glorified by a compliance with it than \notherwise. The thing recommended, if in any case it \nbe apparent that the doing of it will redound to the \nglory of God, is ipso facto required, and becomes a \nduty. Take the favorite example of the Catholics, \ncelibacy, which, they say, is recommended but not re- \nquired. Now, if any one find that he can better serve \nGod in the single condition than in the matrimonial \nstate, celibacy is in that case his duty ; and being a \nduty, a thing required, it can be no work of superero- \n\n\n\n204 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ngation. When celibacy is not a duty, there is no vir- \ntue in it. Does any one believe that Enoch would \nhave been more virtuous, and walked more closely \nwith God, if he had not fallen into the mistake of mat- \nrimony ? \n\nBut I arrest my remarks, lest, in criminating one \nkind of supererogation, I myself be guilty of another. \n\n\n\n56. Convents. \n\n\n\nEvery body knows how important convents, monas- \nteries, nunneries, &c. are in the Roman Catholic reli- \nr ion. Who has not heard of monks and nuns, and of \n'ie establishments in which they respectively seclude \nthemselves from the world ? What a pity they cannot \nkeep the flesh and the devil as far off! But the flesh \nthey must carry in with them ; and the devil is at no \nloss to find an entrance. There are no convents that \ncan shut these out ; and it is my opinion that it is not \nof much use to exclude the world, if they cannot at \nthe same time shut out the other two. The world \nwould be very harmless, but for the flesh and the \ndevil. Besides-, I am 'of opinion that a person may be \nof the world, though not in the world. In, but not of \nthe world, is the Protestant doctrine, and the true \nplan. People forget that the world is not the great \nglobe, with all its land and water ; but that it is often \nan insidious little thing, which, ere one knows it, \nhas taken up its lodgment in the heart, The heart \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 205 \n\ncan entertain the world. If so, convent cannot even \nkeep out the world. They do not answer the purpose \ntherefore for which they are intended. \n\nBut be this as it may, I find nothing for convents in \nthe Bible. In the Old Testament not a word about \nthem — in the New not a word. Now if they are such \ngrand contrivances for making people good, and for \nkeeping them pure, I am surprised they were never \nthought of till after the canon of Scripture was closed. \nWhy do not the men who speak by inspiration of \nGod, say any thing about them ? This puzzles me. \nI wish some of the Catholic writers would explain \nthe reason. They tell us why St. Paul omitted to \nsay any thing in his writings about the mass. It was, \nsay the authors of the Rhemish Testament in their \nannotations on Hebrews, 7: 17, \"because of the \ndepth of the mystery, and the incredulity or feeble- \nness of those to whom he wrote.\" We thank them \nfor the admission that the apostle did not teach the \ndoctrine of the mass. But how came they to know \nthe reason of his silence upon it ? May be it was for \na similar reason that he maintained a perfect silence \non the subject of convents ! \n\nBut if convents are such clever things, why did not \nEnoch take the vow of celibacy, and go into one, in- \nstead of \" walking with God and begetting sons and \ndaughters ?\" How much better a man, according to \nthe Catholic notion, he would have been, had he only \nbeen a monk! And why did not St. John banish him- \nself to some solitary Patmos, and there live the life \nof a hermit, before a persecuting emperor drove him \ninto it ? Why did not Peter and his wife part, and he \nturn friar and she nun ? We look to such characters \n18 \n\n\n\n206 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n* \n\n\n\nfor examples. Why did not the Marys, or some othe* \nof the pious women of whom we read in the Bible, \ntake the veil ? Monachism, they may say, is an im- \nprovement on those times. But I do not like the idea \nof improvements on a system arranged by the wis- \ndom of the Son of God himself. \n\nThere is what Ave call the spirit of a book. Now, \nthe entire system of convents seems to me as clear- \nly at variance with the spirit of the Bible, as one \nthing can be at variance with another. The Bible \nappears to have been written for persons who were \nto live in society with their fellow-men. It supposes \nhuman beings to be associated together in families \nand in civil communities, not as immured in monas- \nteries and shut up in nunneries. It takes up the va- \nrious relations of life, and descants on the duties \ngrowing out of them. But the system of Monachism \ndissolves these relations. Is it scriptural then ? But \nwhy should I ask if that be scriptural which was \nfirst instituted by St. Anthony in the fourth century \nafter Christ ? \n\nAgain, if the system is favorable to holiness, then \nall equally need it, since all are required to be equal- \nly holy — to be holy as God is holy. But what would \nsoon become of us all, if the system should become uni- \nversal, and all adopt these means of holiness ? This \nidea, that the means of the most eminent sanctity re- \nquired of any, are not accessible and practicable, to \nall, is radically erroneous. It is no such thing. It \ncannot be. Therefore I conclude against convents. \n\nBut while I impugn the system, I bring no charges \nagainst the existing edifices, called convents. I would \nnever have them assailed by any other force than \n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 267 \n\nthat which belongs to an argument. If I were a Ro- \nman Catholic, I could not more indignantly repro- \nbate than, being a protestant, I do, the recent burn- \ning of one of these buildings. If truth and argument \ncan prostrate them, let them fall ; but not by axes, \nand hammers, and fire-brands. All I contend for is, \nthat the whole concern of convents is unscriptural. \nThose who inhabit them may be as pure as any who \nlive outside ; and so I shall believe them to be, until \nI have proof to the contrary. This plan of suspect- \ning, and of making mere suspicion the ground of con- \ndemnation, is no part of my religion. It is a part of my \nProtestantism to protest against it. \n\n\n\n57. Mr. Berrington and Mrs. More. \n\nIn reading the interesting memoirs of Mrs. Hannah \nMore, I was struck with a letter which that good lady \nreceived in 1809 from Joseph Berrington, the Pope's \nVicar General, taking exception to something she had \nsaid in her \" Ccelebs \" about Popery. He is very much \noffended with her. He complains, among other things, \nof her use of the word Popery, to designate the Ro- \nman Catholic religion. Now, some of us do not make \nmuch use of that word, as knowing it is offensive to the \nCatholics, and not willing to say any thing irritating \nto them; and when we do use it, I believe it is more \nfor brevity than for any other reason — to avoid tedious \ncircumlocution. It is as much out of regard to the \n\n\n\n208 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nprinter as any thing else. I do not see, however, why \nthey should so strongly object to the word Popery. \nThey all hold to the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, \nand regard him as the head of the church. Why then \nshould not their religious system be called after him ? \nWe call ours after the one we regard as supreme in \nspiritual matters, and head of the church. We call \nit Christianity, after Christ. Why not for the same \nreason call theirs Popery, after the Pope ? We do noi \neven get angry when they call us Calvinists, and our \ndoctrinal system Calvinism. Yet with much more \nreason might we ; for what is Calvin to us ? He is \nonly one of many thousand eminent men who have \nespoused substantially the system of doctrine we do. \nI find in Mr. B's. letter this remarkable sentence ■ \n\" Nothing is more surprising than that you Protest- \nants should be so utterly ignorant, as you really are, \nor seem to be, of our tenets ; when we all, whatever \nbe our country, think alike, and our catechisms and \nbooks of instruction lie open before the world.\" He \nsays' nothing is more surprising. But there is one \nthing which is even more surprising. It is that any \nintelligent ecclesiastic should venture to write such a \nsentence. He says we Protestants are, or seem to be, \nutterly ignorant of their tenets. Now, the truth is, \nthere are few things we are better acquainted with \nthan the tenets of Roman Catholics. They say we \ndo not let them speak for themselves. Yes, we do. \nDo they not speak for themselves in their own manu- \nals, breviaries, and catechisms printed under their \nown sanction and supervision ? If we take their te- \nnets from their own books, and quote verbatim, and \nrefer to the edition and page, is not that enough '? \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 209 \n\nWell, we do so. Yet they say we misrepresent them. \nHow can that be 1 They may misrepresent and con- \ntradict themselves, but it is hard to hold us responsi- \nble for that. If we are ignorant of their tenets, it is \nbecause they do not themselves constantly hold to \nthem. If they let go their doctrines, as soon as Pro- \ntestants attack and expose them, and resorting to \nexplanations, evasions and glosses, do thus virtually \ntake hold of something different from their original \nand published tenets, we are not to blame for that, I \nshould think. \n\nBut Mr. B. tells us what makes our ignorance so \nsurprising: \"when we all, whatever be our country, \nthink alike.\" Do they all think alike ? They did not \nalways all think alike. See history. And so far as \nthey do think alike, does the reader know how it \ncomes about ? It is by virtue of not thinking at all. \nBut grant they all think alike. Does it follow that \nthey think right 1 Has no error ever been very popu- \nlar ? The world all thought alike once on astronomy \n— all held the earth to be the centre of the system. \nBut did they think right ? However, it is convenient \nto have a large number of persons all think alike, for \nthen, if you can ascertain what one thinks, you know \nwhat all think, and if you read one book, you know \nwhat is in them all. So, if you chance to fall in with \na Spanish or Italian Catholic, and he tells you what \nhe thinks, you know what every English and Ameri- \ncan Catholic thinks, for they \" all think alike.\" So, \nif you take up one catechism or book of instruction \nand read that, you know what they all ought to con- \ntain. It saves a great deal of trouble. \n\nBut the Vicar complains bitterly of the Bishop of \n18* \n\n\n\n210 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nDurham, for asserting that the Catholics suppress the \nsecond commandment. He says it is no such thing, \nand that any school boy could tell him different. And \nhe affirms that a catechism was put into the hands ot \nthe Bishop coniaining that commandment, and still \nhe persisted in his assertion. The Bishop was right ; \nand \" nothing is more surprising \" than that Mr. B \nshould deny it. I have myself seen two different \ncatechisms, published in Ireland by Catholic book-sel- \nlers, and under the highest Catholic authority, from \nboth of which the second commandment was ex \neluded ; and it is left out of \" the Christian's Guide,'' \npublished in Baltimore by the Catholics, as any one \nmay see for himself. Now what could Mr. B. say to \nthis ? Would he say, \" O ! those were published in \nIreland and America.\" But he says, \" we all, what- \never be our country, think alike.\" Would he say that \nhe spoke of 1809, and these were published since ? \nBut it is their boast that they not only do now all think \nalike, but that they always did think alike. Would \nhe say that if it was left out of those catechisms, yet \nit was retained in others ? Yes ; but if their catechisms \ndiffer, how do they all think alike 1 Besides, no one \never accused the Catholics of leaving the second com- \nmandment out of every one of their books. But why \ndo they leave it out of any ? Will they please to say \nwhy they leave it out of any ? They have never con- \ndescended to answer that question. They always \nevade it. If a man should publish successive editions \nof the laws of any country, and should leave out of \nsome of the editions a certain important law, would \nit be sufficient for him to say that he did not leave it \nout of all the editions ? Why did he leave it out of \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 21J \n\nany ? Why did he not make them all uniform? A \nman may as well tell me I have no eyes, as deny that \nsome Catholic catechisms have been published with- \nout the second commandment. Now, why was ever \na catechism published under Catholic sanction with- \nout it? Did they ever publish one in which they \nomitted any other of the commandments ? Did Pro- \ntestants ever publish a list of the commandments with \none omitted, and another divided so as to make out \nthe ten ? Alas for them ! there is no getting out of \nthis dilemma into which they have brought them- \nselves by their mutilation of the decalogue. It is \nabout the most unfortunate thing they ever did for \nthemselves. I do not wonder that Mr. B. was rest- \nless under the charge. But surely, he had too much \ngood sense to suppose that he had answered the \nBishop, when he showed him a catechism that had \nthe commandment in it. It is as if a man, charged \nwith falsehood in a particular instance, should under- \ntake to answer the charge by showing that in another \ninstance he had spoken the truth. The Catholics are \nvery uneasy to get rid of this millstone about the neck \nof their religion. They see it is in danger of sinking \nit. But they cannot slip it off so easy ; and if they \ncannot manage to swim with it, it must sink them. \nWell, if it does, and nothing but the system goes to \nthe bottom, I shall not be sorry. \n\nIn the course of his letter, Mr. B. speaks of \" the \nanarchical principle of private judgment.\" And is \nthis a principle which leads to anarchy 1 Paul did \nnot seem to think so. He says : \" Let every man be \nfully persuaded in his own mind.\" What anarchy \nmust have existed in the Berean church, where, after \n\n\n\n212 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nhearing the word, they \" searched the Scriptures daily, \nwhether these things were so !\" What confusion \nthere must have been where all read and thought \nfor themselves ! They needed an Inquisitor to set \nthings to rights. He is the man to mend matters \nwhen people fall to \" searching the Scriptures.\" Well, \nif the 19th century will tolerate the denunciation of \nprivate judgment on any subject, I suppose it must b<» \nso ; but I cannot say Amen. \n\n\n\n58. A New Method of Exciting Devotion. \n\nThere seems to be no end to new discoveries. \nMarching mind appears to have no idea of halting. \nProbably improvements will go on until the world it- \nself terminates. What should I see, in taking up the \nObserver of January 3d, but an article headed \" Ca- \nthedral at St. Louis?\" Then followed a description \ntaken, be it known, not from any scandalous Protes- \ntant paper, but from the Catholic Telegraph, printed \nat Cincinnati, of the building, altar, &c. By the way, \nthe altar is of stone, but they tell us this is only tem- \nporary, and will soon be superseded by a superb mar- \nble altar which is hourly expected from Italy. Why \ngo all the way to Italy for an altar ? Why not employ \nour own mechanics and artists? We have marble \nenough here, and men enough. But I suppose it is a \npresent. Our country is receiving a great many pre- \nsents now from abroad. Foreign Catholics are parti- \ncularly kind to us. You know we are making the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 213 \n\ngreat experiment whether a free, representative go- \nvernment can sustain itself; and our Austrian and \nItalian brethren, sympathizing with us, want to help \nus all they can. They mourn especially over the de- \nplorable lack of religion in this country, and are anx- \nious to supply it. Nor is it in building and furnishing i \nchurches alone that they are disposed to help us. \nThey cannot bear to see our children growing up in \nsuch ignorance. They are not used (they would have \nus believe) to an ignorant population ; and then, what \nis to become of the republic if the people are not \neducated 1 So they come from Ireland, France, Italy, \nand all those countries, male and female, to educate \nus. A sceptical person might be tempted to ask if there \nis nothing of the kind to be done at home — if, for exam- \nple, they cannot find any uneducated children in Ire- \nland, but they must come over here to find them. How- \never that be, they come. But what strikes me with won- \nder, is, that when they get here, they are all for educating \nProtestant children. Why do they not give the chil- \ndren of Catholics, their own people, a chance? There \nare many of them scattered over the land, and they \nare not all self-taught. I should like to have this ex- \nplained. Common sense suggests that there must be \na motive for making this distinction, and shrewdly \nsuspects it is proselytism. Charity waits to hear if \nany more creditable reason can be assigned. But this \nis digression. \n\nWell, on the 26th of October the grand building \nwas consecrated. The procession consisted of an \" ec- \nclesiastical corps \" amounting to fifty or sixty, of whom \nfour were bishops, and twenty- eight priests, twelve of \nwhom were from twelve different nations. You see \n\n\n\n214 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthey are coming upon us from all quarters. It would \nreally seem as if all Europe was conspiring to pour in \nits priests among us. Here are priests of twelve dif- \nferent nations met at St. Louis ! Protestantism has to \ndepend for its men and money on native Americans ; \nbut Popery, you perceive, has all Europe to draw upon. \nIf, with this advantage, the latter religion should make \nconsiderable progress in our country, we must not be \nsurprised. Whether this influx of foreign priests au- \ngurs good or evil to our free institutions, is a question \non which I will express no opinion. \n\nI come now to the novelty which suggested the title \nof this article — the new discovery — the improvement I \nspoke of. The editor, or his correspondent, says, \"As \nsoon as the procession was organized, the pealing of \nthree large and clear-sounding bells, and the thunder \nof two pieces of artillery, raised all hearts, as well as \nour own, to the Great and Almighty Being.\" Now is \nnot this something new ? I always thought bells were \nto call people together, not to raise them up. But here \nhe says they raised all hearts. However, it was with \nthe help of the thundering artillery. It was the bells \nand guns together that did it. They made such a noise \nthat at once all hearts were raised. What an eifect \nfrom such a cause ! Will the reader please to consider \nwhat was done aDd what did it? All hearts were \nraised to God by means of three bells and two guns ! \nIs not this a new method of exciting devotion? Who \never heard before of noise composing the mind and \npreparing it for devout exercises ? According to this, \nthe fourth of July should be the day of all others in \nthe year most favorable to devotion. And what a ca- \nlamity deafness now appears to be; and how to be \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON FOPERY. 215 \n\npitied they are who lived before the invention of gun- \npowder ! I never knew before that this was among \nthe benefits of that invention, that it inspires devo- \ntional feelings, and raises hearts on high. But we \nmust live and learn. \n\nWell, all hearts being raised as before, \" the holy \nrelics (alias, the old bones) were moved towards the \nnew habitation, where they shall enjoy anticipated \nresurrection — the presence of their God in his holy \ntabernacle.\" What this means, the reader must find \nout for himself. Now, when the relics were moved, \nthe writer tells us what the guns did. \" The guns fired \na second salute.\" They could not contain themselves. \nNeither could the writer. \" We felt,\" says he, \" as if \nthe soul of St. Louis was in the sound.\" A soul in a \nsound ! Here is more that is new. \n\nThen we are told who preached the dedication ser- \nmon ; and afterwards we are informed, for our edifica- \ntion, that \" during the divine sacrifice, (the Protestant \nreader, perhaps, does not know what is meant by this \nphrase, but if the twelve nations continue to send over \ntheir priests, we shall know all about it by and by,) \ntwo of the military stood with drawn swords, one at \neach side of the altar; they belonged to a guard of \nhonor, formed expressly for the occasion. Besides \nwhom, there were detachments from the four militia \ncompanies of the city, the Marions, the Greys, the \nRiflemen, and the Cannoniers from Jefferson Barracks, \nstationed at convenient distances around the church.\" \nThe reader will not forget that certain professed am- \nbassadors of \" the Prince of Peace \" were here en- \ngaged in dedicating a church to his service ; and this \nis the way they took to do it. If they had been conse- \n\n\n\n216 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ncrating a temple to Mars, I don't know how they could \nhave selected more appropriate ceremonies. Here were \nsoldiers, drawn swords, guns, and, as we shall see \npresently, colors and drums too, all to dedicate a church \nto the meek and lowly Jesus, and that too on the day \nof rest ! \n\nOne more quotation from this glowing description. \nH When the solemn moment of the consecration ap- \nproached, and the Son of the living God was going to \ndescend, for the first time, into the new residence of \nhis glory on earth, the drums beat the reveille, three \nof the star-spangled banners were lowered over the \nbalustrade of the sanctuary, the artillery gave a deaf- \nening discharge.\" All that seems to have been want- \ning here was three cheers. Those would have been \nquite as suitable as the other accompaniments of the \nservice. Reader, is this religion ; and are these the \nthings which are pleasing to God ? \n\nI have a word to say about the star-spangled banner. \nThat is an ensign endeared to every American heart. \nWhether it is as highly esteemed by the twelve na- \ntions, I cannot say. But a church is not its appro- \npriate place. There is another banner which should \nwave there — and that is not star-spangled. One soli- \ntary star distinguishes it — the star — the star of Beth- \nlehem. Let us keep these things separate : under the \none, go to fight the bloodless battles of our Lord — un- \nde: the other, march to meet our country's foes. This \nis the doctrine of American Protestantism — no union \nof church and state, and no interchange of their ap- \npropriate banners. \n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/remember00palm.txt",
    "content": "Remember \nBy \nRat Palmer. \nBoston: \n\nTHE AMERICAN TRACT SOCI] \n\nDepositories, 28 Cornhill, Boston ; and 13 Biblb House, \nAstor Place, New York. \nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by \n\nThe American Tract Society, \n\nIn the Clerk's Ofnce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. \n\nGeo. C. Rand & Avery, \nStereotypers and Printers, 3 Cornhill, Boston. \n\n\nTO THE \n\n\n\nMEMBERS OF THE CHURCH TO WHICH HE MINISTERS, \n\n\n\nESPECIALLY TO \n\n\n\nft be Jloungcr <Jlcmbers, \n\n\n\nIn whose ONION to Christ he greatly rejoices, and for whose Chris- \ntian GROWTH AND COMFORT HE HABITUALLY PRAYS, \n\nTHIS LITTLE VOLUME IS INSCRIBED \nBY THEIR AFFECTIONATE FRIEND AND PASTOR, \n\nRAY PALMER. \n\n\n\nII \n\n\n\nREFA'CE. \n\n\n\nTo young disciples, it is a question of deep and \nserious interest with what specific thoughts and \nspiritual affections the table of the Lord should be \napproached. In the case of older Christians, like- \nwise, great care should be taken that the inward \nexercises connected with the occasion should be \nsuch as are demanded by the nature and design of \nthis most precious ordinance. To both classes it \nis hoped that this little volume may be useful. \n\nIt will be seen that these pages are intended to \nspeak directly to the Jicart. It is sought to bring \nthe great facts pertaining to Christ's work of re- \ndeeming by his death, which are set forth in the \nordinance of the Holy Supper, into immediate con- \ntact with the religious sensibilities. \n\n\n\nPreface. \n\n\n\nThe plan of the volume will explain itself. Prose \nand poetry are intermingled, for the sake of vari- \nety, and as speaking to the heart in different ways. \nThe poetical pieces, most of them, have been writ- \nten for the place they occupy. The hymns, \"Jesus, \nthese eyes have never seen,\" \" O Bread to pilgrims \ngiven ! \" and \"Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts,\" \nwere contributed to the Sabbath Hymn Book, to \nthe proprietors of which they now belong. They \nare used here by permission. \" My faith looks up \nto thee,\" although so familiar, is inserted at the \nend, because it seemed to form so fitting a conclu- \nsion to the book. \n\nR. P. \n\n\n\n\nSJft&iBftS. \n\n\n\nINVOCATION 9 \n\nTEXTS ON THE INSTITUTION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER . 10 \n\nDESIGN OF THE ORDINANCE 12 \n\nQUESTIONS FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 15 \n\nHYMN: CHRIST LOVED UNSEEN iS \n\nFIRST MEDITATION: ANTICIPATION. — Monday Evening 21 \n\nSONNET: THE ANOINTING 26 \n\nSTANZAS: \"I SAW THEE\" 27 \n\nID MEDITATION: THE PASSOVER. — Tuesday Evening 29 \n\nSONNET: THE ALARM 36 \n\nHYMN: SELF-DEVOTION 37 \n\nTHIRD MEDITATION: THE UNMASKING.— Wednesday Evening 39 \n\nSONNET: THE DEPARTURE 45 \n\nSTANZAS: SELF-SEARCHING 46 \n\nFOURTH MEDITATION: THE HOLY SUPPER.— Thursday Evkn'g 49 \n\nSONNET: THE INSTITUTION 56 \n\nSA< RAMENTAL HYMN 57 \n\nFIFTH MEDITATION: PARTING WORDS — Friday Evenin \n\n\n\nContexts. \n\n\n\nSONNET: THE HOLY BOND 66 \n\nSTANZAS: THE UNITY OF LOVE 67 \n\nSIXTH MEDITATION: GETHSEMANE. — Saturday Evening . 69 \n\nSONNET: GETHSEMANE . 7 6 \n\nSTANZAS: \"IN THE GARDEN WITH HIM\" . 77 \n\nSEVENTH MEDITATION: CALVARY — Sabbath Morning . 79 \n\nSONNET: THE SACRIFICE 86 \n\nSTANZAS: VIA DOLOROSA .87 \n\nAT THE TABLE 89 \n\nAFTER THE SACRAMENT. — Sabbath Evening .... 96 \n\nHYMN: DELIGHT IN CHRIST 99 \n\nHYMN: FAITH . . 101 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nREMEMBER ME \n\n\n\nINVOCATION. \n\n\n\n\nLESSED Lord Jesus! I recognize \nthe sacrament of the Holy Supper \nas instituted by thee for the re- \nfreshment and comfort of truly renewed and \nbelieving souls, and as designed to be a per- \npetual ordinance in thy visible Church. I \nwould be prepared to keep this sacred feast \nin obedience to thy command. May the \nHoly Spirit graciously assist and guide me ! \nAmen. \n\n\n\nio Remember Me. \n\n\n\nTHE INSTITUTION. \n\n\n\n\nMatt. 26 : 26-30. \n\nESUS took bread, and blessed it, and \nbrake it, and gave it to the disciples, \nand said, Take, eat ; this is my body. \nAnd he took the cup, and gave \nthanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink \nye all of it ; for this is my blood of the new \ntestament, which is shed for many for the \nremission of sins. But I say unto you, I will \nnot drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, \nuntil that day when I drink it new with you \nin my Father's kingdom. \n\nAnd, when they had sung a hymn, they \nwent out into the Mount of Olives. \n\n\n\nThe Institution. ii \n\n-# \n\ni C&v ii : 23-25. \n\nFor I have received of the Lord that which \nalso I delivered unto you, That the Lord \nJesus, the same night in which he was be- \ntrayed, took bread : and, when he had given \nthanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat ; this \nis my body, which is broken for you : this do \nin remembrance of me. After the same \nmanner also he took the cup, when he had \nsupped, saying, This cup is the new testa- \nment in my blood : this do ye, as oft as ye \ndrink it, in remembrance of me. \n\n\n\n\n12 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nDESIGN OF THE ORDINANCE. \n\n\n\n\nHE sacrament of the Holy Supper \nwas plainly instituted for Christ's dis- \nciples. None else could possibly en- \nter into the spirit of the observance. \nOnly love can find pleasure in communion \nFor whom with Christ, and in dwelling with \ndeliberate and protracted medita- \ntion on the scenes connected with his suffer- \na mark of m S s anc ^ death. It was meant to \ndisciple- b e a distinguishing ordinance, sepa- \n\nship. \n\nrating those who should observe it \nfrom the irreligious world, and marking them \nas avowed followers of Jesus. \n\n\n\nDesign of the Ordinance. 13 \n\n2. It was further intended to be at once \nthe symbol of a truth, and the seal or con- \nfirmation of a covenant. By its ob- intended \nservance, the great essential truth bol and a \nof the Christian atonement was to \n\nbe visibly acknowledged and kept fresh in \nthe heart of the Church, and to be set forth \nin the sight of all the world. By receiving \nit, each believer most solemnly covenants \nwith his Lord to love and serve him, and \nrenews the pledge as often as he repeats his \nattendance at the table. \n\n3. The Holy Supper was also designed \nto convey to each participant who To convey \n\n. 1 i • 1 1 • t • divine life \n\nshould rightly receive it divine nour- \n\no J and com- \n\nishment, spiritual life and health and ,brt - \njoy, the quickening of right desires, and the \nconfirming of the purpose of faithful Chris- \ntian living. Tli is through the inward ap- \n\n\n\n14 . Remember Me. \n\nprehension of Christ, and the appropriation \nof his grace by faith. \n\n4. Finally, Christ wished, by the sacrament \n\necure °f the Supper, to unite those who \n\nf loved him into an intimate fellow- \n\nbelievers. \n\nship, or brotherhood, cemented by \nmutual sympathy and affection ; and so to \nmake the many members feel themselves to \nbe but one body in him. \n\n\n\n\nSelf-Examination. \n\n\n\nSELF-EXAMINATION. \n\n\n\n\nAVE I truly and deeply felt that I \nwas by nature estranged from God \nand goodness, — was one of the lost \n\nwhom Jesus came to save ? \n\n2. Have I reason, in the consciousness of \nwhat I feel, for a comfortable hope that my \nheart has been renewed by the Holy Spirit, \nand that I have truly received Christ by \nfaith ? \n\n3. Is it my sincere desire, and steadfast \npurpose, and daily resolute endeavor, to deny \nand subdue myself, to put on the Christian \ngraces, and to grow in likeness of Christ ? \n\n4. Do I habitually remember, and strive \n\n\n\n1 6 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nfaithfully to keep, the promises made in my \npublic profession of religion ? \n\n5. Do I depend alone on Christ's atoning \nsacrifice for pardon and peace with God, and \non his power to keep me unto everlasting \nlife? \n\n6. Am I consciously prepared lovingly and \ngratefully to give myself anew to Christ my \nLord while I sit with him at his table, and \nto renew in all sincerity my covenant-vows? \n\n\n\nIt will serve but little purpose merely to \n\nread the preceding questions over. If you \n\nwill profit by them, reader, take them \n\nRemarks. \n\nup one by one ; interrogate most se- \nriously and faithfully your heart; and after \ndeliberate reflection, as in the sight of God, \nwho searches the secret soul, answer truly \n\n\n\nSelf-Exam i nation. 17 \n\nto yourself. You will not be likely to find \neither comfort or strength in coming to the \nSaviours table, unless you can honestly an- \nswer these questions, with a good degree of \nconfidence, in the affirmative. Remember \nthe words of the apostle : \" Let a man ex- \namine himself, and so let him eat of this \nbread, and drink of this cup.\" \n\n\n\nO Thou who knowest my inmost heart! \nhelp me in all sincerity to answer \n\nPrayer. \n\nthese questions to myself and to \nthee, as in thy most holy presence ; and dis- \npose my heart aright, that I may profitably \nmeet thee at thy board; through Jesus Christ \nmy Lord. Amen. \n\n\n\n1 8 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nCHRIST LOVED UNSEEN. \n\n\n\n\nESUS, these eyes have never seen \nThat radiant form of thine ! . \n\nThe vail of sense hangs dark between \nThy blessed face and mine ! \n\n\n\nI see thee not, I hear thee not ; \n\nYet art thou oft with me ; \nAnd earth hath ne'er so dear a spot \n\nAs where I meet with thee. \n\nLike some bright dream, that comes unsought, \n\nWhen slumbers o'er me roll, \nThine image ever fills my thought, \n\nAnd charms my ravished soul. \n\n\n\nChrist loved Unseen. \n\n\n\nYet though I have not seen, and still \n\nMust rest in faith alone, \nI love thee, dearest Lord ! and will, — \n\nUnseen, but not unknown \n\nWhen death these mortal eyes shall seal, \nAnd still this throbbing heart, \n\nThe rending vail shall thee reveal, \nAll glorious as thou art. \n\n\n\n\n\nPREPARATORY EXERCISES. \n\n\n\nI. ANTICIPATION. \n\n\n\nMONDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nGAIN the day approaches when I \nmay keep the Christian joyful an- \nfeast of holy love. De- \n\nJ ofthesac- \n\nlightful occasion ! I welcome its re- rament \nturn. Do this — this simple but most ex- \npressive act — in remembrance of ■ \nme ! Yes, Lord ! with solemn joy I \nwill. The command is full of wisdom and \nof grace. The sacrament so instituted in thy \n\n\n\n22 Remember Me. \n\nChurch is at once divinely touching, and ad- \nmirably adapted to the necessities of thy dis- \nciples. I recognize in it a special call to \nself-examination, and to a renewed withdraw- \ning of my affections from their too eager pur- \nsuit of inferior good. Each day, therefore, \nuntil the season comes, I will set apart an \nThe even- hour — it shall be, as now, the peace- \n,un ful evening hour, if possible — in \nwhich, withdrawn from the noisy world, I \nmay commune with my own heart, and med- \nitate on Christ's great sacrifice. Come, Jesus, \nand bless these moments with thy presence. \nI sit in this quiet hour, and look at the \nfading west. The sun has disap- \n\nChrist the & r \n\nLight of peared. But see what glory he still \n\nsheds upon the world ! Though \n\nhimself no longer seen, his beams still bathe \n\nwoods, fields, and streams, and yonder float- \n\n\n\nAnticipation. \n\n\n\ning clouds, in rosy light. Even so my bless- \ned Lord, the Sun of righteousness, — though \nho more for a season visible to mortal eyes, \n— sheds a sweet radiance on his Church, a \nsoft and twilight radiance, grateful to loving- \nsouls ; and, like the evening light of polai \nregions, not fading till the morning breaks \nagain, and he re-appears. Though Christ \nnow I see him not, yet, believing, I \n\nown till he \n\nam cheered ever with somewhat of comes \n\nhis light, the reflection of which is \n\nthe beauty of all saints. Rejoice in him, my \n\nsoul! \n\nAt the sacramental table I may meet him, \nif my heart is ready to receive so Christ \ndivine a guest. Contact with the \n\n° the prc- \n\n\n\nworld begets a sense of defilement, \neven where there is no conscious- \nness of deliberate willful sin ; and it is good \n\n\n\n24 Remember Me. \n\nto return to the fountain, and wash and be \nclean. When the cares and the business of \nlife have hurried me hither and thither with \nno little distraction of mind, I love to come \nback again, and sit down before the cross, \nand gaze on the blessed Sufferer with silent, \ntender memories. I love to devote \n\nSelf-conse- \ncration re- myself to him anew, and to repeat \n\nthe vows made in the days of my \nespousals. It is like coming once more into \nthe sunshine after long walking through \ngloom and mist. Let me come to thy table, \nLord, with right affections and with a lively \nfaith, that I lose not the benefits of the occa- \ni Cor. ii : sion. To a heart not graciously \n\nprepared, there is nothing life-giving \n\nNo profit \n\nto a care- even in the sight of the cross, and \n\nof the divine Victim offered there. \n\nGrant me then, O Jesus! beforehand, such \n\n\n\nAnticipation. 25 \n\n\n\nself-abasement for sin, such rekindling of \nfaith and hope, and such discoveries of the \nfullness of thy grace and love, that I may find \nnew life and joy while with thy people I shall \nsit and commune with thee. Hast johni4: \nthou not said, \" He that loveth me \nshall be loved of my Father, and I will love \nhim, and will manifest myself unto him\"? \nCome, then, and ^ive me to feel „, . , \n\nChnsts \n\nmost consciously that thou art with presence \n\nme here. Blessed then, indeed, shall \n\nthe moments be ! Awake, O north wind ! \n\nand come, thou south ! blow upon sol. Song \n\nmy garden, that the spices thereof \n\nmay flow out. From my soul, warmed by \n\nthe breath of the Spirit, may the fragrant \n\nperfume of holy affection ascend to Christ ! \n\nThen let my Beloved come into his garden, \n\nand eat his pleasant fruits. \n\n\n\n26 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE ANOINTING. \n\nMark 13:3-9. \n\n1 HE came — the sinful — while he brake \nthe bread, \nHer broken heart now healed, and brim- \n\n\n\nWith holy burning love ; she came to pour \nSweet, precious odors on that reverend head ; \nAnd — as by deep, prophetic impulse led — \nThat sacred body, soon uplifted high \n'Mid scorn and shame, in agony to die, \nBetimes to anoint for its sepulchral bed. \nUngrudgingly she did the loving deed ; \nFor to that glowing heart no offering seemed \nToo rich for Him, no cost too dear she deemed, \nIf he with one kind look the gift might heed. \nThe selfish chid ; pronounced her act a crime : \nHe praised, and bade it live to latest time ! \n\n\n\nI saw Thee. 27 \n\n\n\nI SAW THEE. \n\nWhen thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee. — John i : 4S. \n\nSAW thee when, as twilight fell, \nAnd Evening lit her fairest star, \n\nThy footsteps sought yon quiet dell, \nThe world's confusion left afar. \n\nI saw thee when thou stood'st alone \n\nWhere drooping branches thick o'erhung — \n\nThy still retreat to all unknown — \nHid in deep shadows darkly flung. \n\nI saw thee, when, as died each sound \nOf bleating flock or woodland bird, \n\nKneeling, as if on holy ground, \n\nThy voice the listening silence heard. \n\nI saw thy calm uplifted eyes, \n\nAnd marked the heaving of thy breast, \nWhen rose to heaven thy heartfelt sighs \n\nFor purer life, for perfect rest. \n\n\n\n28 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nI saw the light that o'er thy face \nStole with a soft suffusing glow, \n\nAs if, within, celestial grace \n\nBreathed the same bliss that angels know. \n\nI saw — what thou didst not — above \nThy lowly head an open heaven ; \n\nAnd tokens of thy Father's love, \nWith smiles, to thy rapt spirit given. \n\nI saw thee from that sacred spot \nWith firm and peaceful soul depart ; \n\nI, Jesus, saw thee, — doubt it not, — \nAnd read the secrets of thy heart ! \n\n\n\n\n\nII. THE PASSOVER. \n\n\n\nTUESDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nIRST in the series of events im- \nmediately connected with \n\nJ Evening \n\nthe Redeemer's death was >i the] \nthe last passover. In the endeavor \nto prepare my soul for the sacramental com- \nmunion of his great sacrifice, let me begin \nat this point, and attend him through some \nof the painful scenes that followed. \n\nHe sat down with the twelve. How sim- \nple is the statement! and yet how Matthew \nmuch does it express ! His hour, as \nhe knew, was just at hand. He must needs \n\n\n\n30 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nperform now his last acts, and make himself \nready to be offered. Once more he will keep \nthat great national feast in which his own \ndeath, as the true paschal lamb, was repre- \nsented. How full of meaning it must always \nhave been to him ! But this was to be his \nit is the last observance of it before the shed- \nfeast. d; n g Q £ kj s own ava iii n g blood upon \n\nthe cross. The type was now to be fulfilled \nin that great sacrifice, in view of which the \nangel of wrath should pass over the true Is- \nrael, and spare them as redeemed from death. \nThere was every thing in the occasion to \nmove his heart profoundly. He was imme- \ndiately to part from his beloved disciples : \nworse still, he was to be himself deliberately \nforsaken by them for a season, and to tread \ndie winepress alone. All this was in his \nthought. Yet what sublime collectedness of \n\n\n\nThe Passover. \n\n\n\nsoul ! No perturbation, no appeal for sympa- \nthy or comfort, no want of his usual \n\nJesus \n\nperfect equanimity. He exhibits his divinely \nwonted calmness, mingled with dig- \nnity and sweetness; was, in a word, altogether \nlike himself. Dear Lord ! what steadiness of \npurpose, what devotion to thy work, and what \nstrength of holy love, were thine ! Help me \nherein more faithfully to copy thee. For \nlack of these thy graces, thy chosen friends \nwere overcome by the fear of man, and failed \nin the hour of trial. Let me not weakly fal- \nter, if for thy sake, and in the way of duty, I \nam brought to face suffering and shame. \nLet me admire, too, the compassion and \n\ntenderness of Jesus in these affect- \nAmbition \n\ning circumstances. When the dis- 01 the dis- \nciples, not yet understanding the \nnature of his kingdom, and ignorant of the \n\n\n\n32 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nfuture, disputed, in a selfish and ambitious \nspirit, which of them should be greatest, he \nmildly taught them that no such questions \nLuke should ever be raised among his \nservants. Then, to enforce his \nteachings by his personal example, he him- \nself assumed the office of a servant, and with \n\nChrist ^' 1S own nan< ^ s wa shed and wiped \n\nwashes their feet ! How touching, and yet \n\nhow pungent, the rebuke implied! \n\nHow memorable are the words of comment \n\nwhich he added! — \"If I, then, your Lord \n\nJohn 13: an d Master, have washed your feet, \n\nye ought also to wash one another's \n\nfeet.\" It was thus that he taught his follow- \n\n„,, , ers in all time to be clothed with \n\nThe lesson \n\nof humility humility, and to cultivate and ex- \nhibit a spirit of mutual helpfulness \nand love. Ah, Lord ! how few of us have \n\n\n\nThe Passover. 33 \n\n\n\nthoroughly learned this lesson! But too little \ncare for each other is seen among those who \nbear thy name. Comparatively few are ready \nto perform for each other self-denying ser- \nvices, or even the little acts of kindness to \nwhich love naturally prompts. Have I not \nmyself been greatly deficient in Christ-like \ncare and affection for my brethren ? seif-scru- \nHave I not failed especially to con- \ndescend to them that are of low estate, and \nto seek their good ? Forgive, O Holy One ! \nmy self-seeking, uncharitableness, and pride. \nAssist me to love all thine for thy dear sake, \nand kindly to minister even to the humblest, \nas opportunity may offer. \n\nYe are not all clean! No: fear- John 13:11 \n\nThe bc- \n\nful words! In the little band of \n\ntrayal an- \n\ncherished friends, there was one nounced. \nfalse, hollow-hearted traitor. Perhaps not, \n\n\n\n34 Remember Me. \n\nin the beginning, consciously a hypocrite. \n\nQuite probably he had been self-deceived, \n\nand had believed himself a true disciple ; yet \n\nall the while his Lord had recog- \n\nJohn 6 : 70. \n\nnized in him a devil. Dear Lord ! \nand is this possible ? May I, though I have \nthought I loved thee, though I have \nborne thy blessed name and have \nsat around thy table, be counted of thee an \nenemy even now, and fall away from thee at \nlength? When sometimes my heart grows \nlanguid in its devotion, remiss in its watch- \nfulness, and engrossed with earthly interests ; \nwhen the remembrances of thy cross and pas- \nsion are infrequent, or seem in a measure to \nhave lost their power to move me to grateful \ntenderness, — I tremble lest my hold on thee \nshould fail entirely, and should prove to be \nsomething less than the unyielding grasp of \n\n\n\nThe Passover. 35 \n\n\n\na true and living faith. Yet I can not endure \nto think of this. How but in thee can my \nsoul, that longs for sympathy, for rest, for \npurity, be satisfied ? Disowned of thee, what \nwould remain for me but a hopeless wretched- \nness like that of the false apostle ? \" Search \nme, O God ! and know my heart ; Psalm \ntry me, and know my thoughts ; and 2 ^ 2 +- \nsee if there be any wicked way in me, and \nlead me in the way everlasting.\" \n\n\n\n\n36 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE ALARM. \n\nE kept the Passover ; it was his last : \nFor now drew near the great predestined \nday \n\nWhen of man's mighty guilt himself should \n\npay, \n\nWith dying groans, and blood, the ransom vast. \n\nThe cross was in his eye ; the hours flew fast : \n\nYet calm he sat, and looked serenely round \n\nOn all the twelve ; while they, with awe profound, \n\nAnd loving gaze on him, revolved the past, \n\nThe future from them hid : then, touched, he said, \n\n\" Of you, one shall betray me unto death ! \" \n\nAt that dire word, betray, they all did start, \n\nAs if a thunder-peal had stilled each breath, \n\nOr sudden mortal pang shot through each heart : \n\n\" Lord ! is it I ? \" each cried with horrid dread. \n\n\n\n\nSelf-Devotion. 37 \n\nSELF-DEVOTION. \n\n* \nAKE me, O my Father ! take me, \n\nTake me, save me through thy Son ; \nThat which thou wouldst have me, make \nme : \nLet thy will in me be done. \n\nLong from thee my footsteps straying, \n\nThorny proved the way I trod : \nWeary come I now, and praying ; \n\nTake me to thy love, my God. \n\nFruitless years with grief recalling, \n\nHumbly I confess my sin ; \nAt thy feet, O Father ! falling : \n\nTo thy household take me in. \n\nFreely now to thee I proffer \n\nThis relenting heart of mine ; \nFreely life and soul I offer, — \n\nGift unworthy love like thine ! \n\n\n\n38 Remember Me. \n\nOnce the world's Redeemer, dying, \nBare our sins upon the tree : \n\nOn that sacrifice relying, \nNow I look in hope to thee. \n\nFather, take me ; all forgiving, \nFold me to thy loving breast : \n\nIn thy love for ever living, \nI must be for ever blest. \n\n\n\n\n\nIII. THE UNMASKING. \n\n\n\nWEDNESDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nUDAS, though he had flattered \nhimself that the baseness The traitor \nI of his heart was yet un- exposed ' \nknown to Christ, must have been undeceived \nby those few and quiet words — M t \n\nJ l Matt. 26: \n\n\"Thou hast said \n\ndo quickly.\" He withdrew at once \nfrom a presence he could no longer bear. \nConscious guilt must needs desire to escape \nthe presence of spotless purity. Fixed in his \nwicked purpose, his own conscience com- \npelled the traitor to separate himself for ever \n\n\n\nThat thou doest 25. John \n13:27. \n\n\n\n40 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nfrom the loving and true-hearted disciples, \nHe departs an( j f rom t h e holy Jesus. From \n\nfinally \n\nthat hour he became an outcast. \nist - \" He went out, and it was night,\" \nsays the evangelist; night not only around \nhim, but yet more dismal night within his \nsoul. He departed from that company of \ni John 2 : the faithful, because he was never \n\nof them, and not because a real tie \nof love between himself and Christ had now \n\nbeen broken. So, soon or late, will \n\nheart sure \n\nto be every deceived or consciously false \nrevealed, j^^ rev eal itself. At the bar of \njudgment, if not sooner, Christ will strip off \nall disguises, and exhibit every character pre- \ncisely as it is. O Saviour ! let me not then \nbe found to have been either a deliberate \nhypocrite, or blindly self-deluded. \n\nThe departure of Judas must have been a \n\n\n\nThe Unmasking. 41 \n\nrelief to the blessed Jesus. Now he could \nspeak freely to those, who, in spite The with- \nof their weakness of faith and their \n\nJudas a re- \n\ndefects, were all of them truly his. lieftojesus \nHe alluded in plain terms to the approach- \ning end of his earthly mission, and j G hn 13 : \nto his departure from the world to \nenter into his glorified estate. Yet he with- \nheld much ; for he would spare their feelings. \nHaving loved his own which were \nin the world, he loved them to the \nend ; and he could freely give expression to \nhis affection. Happy eleven ! what can be \nso delightful as to be allowed, in the \n\nBlessed to \n\ncharacter of confidential friends, to be with \nenjoy, apart from the world, free in- \ntercourse with Christ ? This, Lord, thou \ngivest all who truly love thee leave to do at \nthe sacramental table. With thine, and near \n\n\n\n42 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nto thee, do I earnestly desire to sit, whoever \nmay withdraw. Methinks I hear thee ask, \nJohn 6 : 67, \" Wilt thou also go away ? \" and my \nheart answers, \" Lord, to whom shall \nI go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life.\" \nNo, no, my blessed Master! As thou shalt \nkeep me, I will never depart from thee, never \nneglect to meet thee with thine own around \nthy sacred board. \n\nAnd wilt thou not help me, that, \n\nJesus will \n\nhelp his weak as in myself I am, I may cleave \nto thee without faltering ? \" I know \nmy sheep, and am known of mine. I give \nJohn 10: unto them eternal life, and they shall \nnever perish, neither shall any pluck \nthem out of my hands.\" Such are thy pre- \ncious words. On these I may rely. \nThe great, decisive question is, Am \n\nmentous \n\nquestion. I indeed acknowledged of thee as \n\n\n\nThe Unmasking. 43 \n\nthine ? Judas was counted in thine house- \nhold ; but thou didst see in him a son of \nperdition all the while. My heart, in all its \nsecret recesses, is thoroughly known to thee. \nDost thou discern in me even a little faith \nand love ? Again and again I ask myself \nif I am truly joined to thee. As often as \nT prepare to meet thee in the Holy Supper, \nthe inquiry suggests itself anew ; and far \nas I am from complete conformity to thee, \nwhen I listen to the response from my in- \nmost heart, it does seem to testify that I bear \nthee a true affection. I do feel at times — \nunless I am totally deceived — a de- \nlightful consciousness that the Spirit \n\nness of the \n\nbeareth witness with my spirit that Spirit. \nI am a child of God. When thou \nsayest to my soul, \" Lovest thou me ? \" I do \nseem able to appeal to thee to answer for \n\n\n\n44 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nme — able to say with Peter, \" Lord, thou \nknowest all things; thou knowest \n\nJohn 21:15. \n\nthat I love thee.\" Dear Lord, con- \nfirm my faith and hope. Give me a sweeter \nassurance of thy love than ever I have had \nbefore at this approaching feast; while the \nrecollection of the fall of Judas fills me with \na salutary fear. Separation from thee and \nthine ! I can not endure the thought. \n\n\n\n\nThe Departure. 45 \n\n\n\n. \n\n\n\n\nTHE DEPARTURE. \n\nHE loved disciple lay upon his breast, \nDrinking sweet influence from that voice \n\ndivine : \nHe asked; the Master gave at once the \n\n\n\nThat marked the traitor, justified the rest. \n\nThen with convicting glance, while yet dismay \n\nSat on the faces of the innocent, \n\nHe said — and Judas knew the deep intent — \n\n\" What thou hast purposed, do without delay.\" \n\nHeart-smitten, out into the murky night \n\nWent he, foul demons ruling all his soul, \n\nAnd floods of hate that surged without control : \n\nThen Jesus cried — his eyes beamed heavenly \n\nlight — \n\"Now shall the Son of man — betrayed, denied — \nBefore all men, by God be glorified ! \" \n\n\n\n4 6 \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nSELF-SEARCHING. \n\n\n\n\nH, tell me, Jesus ! to my heart — \n\nMy troubled heart — the secret tell ; \nMay I from thee and thine depart, \n\nAs Judas when he falsely fell ? \nIs it not love, this kindling flame \nThat warms my breast oft as thy name \n\nFalls on my willing ear ? \nIs it not faith that oft hath brought \nMy trembling soul the peace it sought, \nAnd stilled each restless fear ? \n\n\n\nThis quiet joy that hidden flows \n\nDeep in my soul ; that makes me glad, \n\nThough many a rude wind round me blows, \nAnd many a sorrow makes me sad — \n\nCan this calm joy, that ever lives, \n\nBe aught but that thy presence gives, \n\n\n\nSelf-Searching. 47 \n\n\n\nTo faithful souls revealed — \nThe presence and the loving smile \nThat gladden all thine own — the while \n\nFrom unbelief concealed ? \n\nThe tears that oft these eyes have wept \n\nWhen I before thy feet have knelt, \nOr watch about thy cross have kept, \n\nAnd all thy pangs have keenly felt — \nCame they not from that holy grief \nThat brings the broken heart relief, \n\nAnd softens it to love ? \nWas not the hope that wakened there \nHope that shall triumph o'er despair, \nAnd bear the soul above ? \n\nSpeak, thou that knowest well — decide \nIf I am thine, oh ! clasp this hand ; \n\nAnd when my feet would stray or slide, \nThen firmly hold and bid me stand. \n\n\n\n4 8 \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nGo forth from thee ? Give me to bear \nThy bitter cross, thy thorns to wear ; \n\nBut let me not depart ! \nNo, Lord : afresh to thee I bring \nA free, a cheerful offering, — \n\nThis trusting, grateful heart. \n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV. THE HOLY SUPPER. \n\nTHURSDAY EVENING. \n\nHRIST and his disciples had now \nfinished the Passover. The great \nevent typified by the paschal lamb \n— the slaying of the appointed Lamb Ch \nof God, who should take away the Passover. \n\nr i ii • ii 1 C° r - 5 : 7- \n\nsin of the world — was just at hand. \nThe Lord, before he would be offered up, \nwould set every thing in order, with a careful \nforesight of the future needs of his disciples. \nThe time had come, therefore, for the insti- \ntution of an ordinance, which, to the end \nof time, might serve at once to express and \n\n\n\n50 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nto sustain the faith of those who should be- \nlieve. \n\nIt was the design of the blessed Jesus that \nhis kingdom in the world should take a visi- \nChrist will ble form ; that is to say, that his dis- \nciples, by some appropriate act and \n\na visible \n\nChurch, testimony, should become known to \neach other and to the unbelieving \n\n32. Mark ° \n\n16:16. world as his. It was his purpose, \nalso, that they should have fellowship one \nJohn 17: with another, and that they all, by a \nliving faith and a holy sympathy, \nshould be united to him, their Saviour and \ntheir life, and should perpetually confirm their \nsouls by cherishing and keeping fresh the \nmemory of his sacrificial death. Who but \nhimself would ever have thought of accom- \nplishing this end by means so very simple ? \nCollect thyself, then, O my soul ! and \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. \n\n\n\nbehold thy Lord while he institutes, to be \nobserved throughout all time, this The \ntouching Christian sacrament — the \n\n° fixed on the \n\ntaking of consecrated bread and institution, \nwine as memorials of him. Listen while \nwith words of prayer he sets apart Matt. 26 : \nthese very familiar elements to a 2b ~ 29 ' \nhigh and holy use. Then hear him say to \nthe wondering disciples not yet prepared to \nunderstand him, \" Take, eat ; this is Luke 22 ■. \nmy body which is broken for you : \nthis do in remembrance of mc.\" And again, \ntaking the cup with thanksgiving, \" This is \nmy blood of the new testament, which is shed \nfor many for the remission of sins : this do \nye, as oft as ye drink it, in remem- Amemori- \nbrance of me.\" It is a truly divine : \n\nbeautifully \n\nsimplicity with which the Master simple. \nthus sets forth, for the instruction and com- \n\n\n\n52 Remember Me. \n\nfort of all believers, the momentous spiritual \ntruths involved in his cross and passion. \n\nThe act of eating and drinking with one, \n\nfrom ancient times, and especially among \n\nOriental nations, has been significant \n\nThe act of \n\neating and °f mutual confidence and affection, \nin s and a pledge of perpetual friendship. \n\nwith one a \n\npledge of By it the Saviour means, that, in the \nhi P* sacramental feast, his followers shal] \nat once acknowledge and pledge anew, from \ntime to time, their love to one another and \nto him. But he goes still farther. He an- \nticipates, what from them was yet concealed, \nthat he should be to the world the Lamb \nslain, — the true Paschal Lamb, — at \n\nChrist the \n\ntrue Pas- tne sight of which, Eternal Justice \nchaiLamb. should pass over the sins of the pen- \nitent and believing. He knows that he is \nsoon to bear upon his head, and in his hands \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. 53 \n\nand feet and pierced side, the marks of ago- \nnies endured on behalf of guilty man. Bro- \nken for you ! Yes, dearest Lord ! thou wast \nwounded for our transgressions ; \n\n& » Isa. 53:5. \n\nthou wast bruised for our iniquities. \nThou didst bear our sins in thine \nown body on the tree. \n\n\" 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord \nHung on the accursed tree \\ \nAnd groaned away a dying life \nFor thee, my soul, for thee ! \" \n\nI see in this bread thy lacerated, suffering \nbody, and through thy sacred wounds The Sup- \nI penetrate to the anguish of thy pei \n\nsymbol of \n\nspirit. This cup, to me, is the fit Christ's \nsymbol of thy blood — the blood of * uirerin s s \n\nand of his \n\nthe great atonement — shed for the atoning \nremission of sin. As I look upon \n\n\n\n54 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nthis wine, I remember that without the shed- \n„ , ding of blood there could be no \n\nHeb. 9 : 22. ° \n\nremission, and that thou, by thine \n\nown blood, hast entered in once into the holy \n\nplace, having obtained eternal re- \nHeb.9: 12. r ' & \n\ndemption for me, a sinful soul — for \nall who rest on thy once-offered sacrifice. \n\nYes, thou that takest away the sin of the \nThe ob- world, eating this bread and drink- \ning this cup, thy disciples shall show \n\n\n\nservance \n\n\n\nof the Sup- \nper a testi- forth thy death until thou come. \n\nmonj to go will we tell the world and each \n\nthe world. \n\nother that we are thine. When, \nwith my fellow-Christians, I shall again ob- \nserve thy sacramental ordinance, I will ten- \nderly and thankfully remember thee, thy \npainful and bloody death. I will lay my soul \nonce more beneath thy cross ; will repeat with \nhearty joy the vows of faithful love and ser- \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. 55 \n\nvice : and by faith my soul shall feast on \nthee the Bread of life, and drink of thee the \nspiritual Rock, asking for nothing Christ \nmore than out of thy fullness to be s P iri \n\nrece : \n\nrichly and perpetually filled. Pre- \n\nsacrament. \n\npare thou me to meet thee at thy ta- \nble. Let thy cup of blessing which 1 Cor. 10: \nis blessed be indeed to me the com- \nmunion of thy blood ; and the bread which \nis broken, the communion of thy body. \n\n\n\n\n$6 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE INSTITUTION. \n\nE took the bread, and blessed it. Then he \nbrake, \n\nAnd gave to each, and said — oh words sub- \nlime ! — \n\n\" This is my body broken ! Through all time, \nIn memory of my death, this emblem take.\" \nNext for the cup gave thanks. For his dear sake, \nHe bade them taste the wine. \" Drink : 'tis my \n\nblood, \nThe seal and witness of all grace in God, \nTill when the judgment trump the dead shall wake.\" \nOh sacred mystery ! communion sweet \nOf holy, loving souls, in which they flow \nAll into one blest brotherhood, and meet \nIneffably their Lord, and joy to know \nThat at this simple board they feast with Him \nWhose face unveiled fires the rapt seraphim ! \n\n\n\nSacramental Hymn. 57 \n\n\n\n\nSACRAMENTAL HYMN. \n\nBREAD to pilgrims given ! \nFood that angels eat ! \nO Manna sent from heaven, \n\nFor heaven-born natures meet ! \nGive us, for thee long pining, \nTo eat till richly filled ; \nTill, earth's delights resigning, \nOur every wish is stilled ! \n\nO Water, life-bestowing, \n\nFrom out the Saviour's heart ! \nA Fountain purely flowing, \n\nA Fount of love, thou art. \nOh, let us, freely tasting, \n\nOur burning thirst assuage ! \nThy sweetness, never wasting, \n\nAvails from age to age. \n\n\n\n58 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJesus, this feast receiving, \n\nWe thee, unseen, adore ; \nThy faithful word believing, \n\nWe take, and doubt no more. \nGive us, thou true and loving, \n\nOn earth to live in thee ; \nThen, death the vail removing, \n\nThy glorious face to see ! \n\nTranslated from Thomas Aquinas. \n\n\n\n\n\nV. PARTING WORDS. \n\n\n\nFRIDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nUR Lord and his chosen friends \nseem to have lingered a The Sa- \nwhile around the table, viour dis \n\ncour- \n\nafter the institution of the Supper; terthe \nwhile he, mindful of their approach- \ning trials, so immediately connected with his \nown, discoursed to them at length. He spoke \nas knowing himself the future, but without \nlifting the vail to disclose it fully to their \nview. When he had reached the point at \nwhich the fourteenth chapter of John closes, \nthey appear to have risen from the table, as \n\n\n\n60 Remember Me. \n\nJohn i 4 : if with the purpose of departing. \nBut probably, as they stood grouped \ntogether after rising, the conversation recom- \nmenced, and the Saviour went on again, as \nrecorded in the fifteenth and sixteenth chap- \nters ; and then concluded the interview with \nprayer. This supposition agrees with all the \ncircumstances, and is much more probable \nThe con- than that this delightful conversa- \ntion occurred out of doors as they \n\nand prayer \n\nnot out of were walking. The whole spirit of \nthe words addressed to the disciples, \nand of the sublime prayer that followed, sa- \nvors of retirement — of a secluded, quiet \nplace — and would ill befit the wayside. \n\nParting words! They are always affect- \ning, the more in proportion as the person \nuttering them is venerated and beloved. \nThe last words of a father or a mother or an \n\n\n\nParting Words. 6i \n\n\n\nhonored and cherished friend, when The words \nabout to leave the world, are wont to \n\ntouching, \n\nbe kept by the survivors as the jewels because \nof the heart. But while, as his part- the last be ' \n\nfore he \n\ning words, these last sayings of the suffered. \n\nLord Jesus have a deep and peculiar interest, \n\nthey are yet more precious because They are \n\nof the invaluable truths and prom- \ntruth and \n\nises which they embody. They comfort, \nfurnish a solid ground for faith to rest upon \namidst all trials and throughout all time. \nThey breathe the deepest tenderness, the \npurest love, and the most divine tranquillity \nof soul. In these words, the whole He spoke \nChurch of the redeemed, down to \n\ners in all \n\nthe last day of the world, have an time, \nindividual concern. They belong to me per- \nsonally, if I am Christ's. While now once \nmore I read and meditate upon them, may \n\n\n\n62 Remember Me. \n\nthey come warm and fresh to my soul, as if \nfrom the lips of my blessed Master! \n\nAnd most naturally do they connect them- \nselves with the sacramental season, in that \nI am to commemorate my Saviour's death for \nme, and these are his words of comfort spo- \nken for me as he went to die. How like him \nwas it to be then chiefly occupied, not with \nhis own coming anguish, but with the trials \nawaiting those who should be left \n\nJohn 16: ° \n\n13- without him amidst an evil and hos- \ntile world! Let me emulate this forgetful- \n\nness of self. Let me be more in- \nLike \n\nChrist, to tent on ministering strength and \n\nbe most 111 \n\nmindful of svm P a thy to others than on moving \nothers, them to pity by recounting my own \ndistresses. Forget not, O my soul, in what \nspirit thy Saviour spoke when the hour of his \nown great sorrows was even now at hand. \n\n\n\nParting Words. 63 \n\n\n\nLet not your heart be troubled! \nThis is the key-note of his wonder- \nful discourse. \n\nAh, dearest Lord, how hard is th^s for our \nweak faith! How difficult to con- Faithmust \nfide in thee, and fear nothing! Yet be stron » \n\nto conquer \n\nwhy should I be anxious ? Of what fear< \nshould I be afraid ? In that covenant, which \nat thy table I. am going to renew again as I \nhave done so often, every thing absolutely \nwhich is involved in my perfect safety and \nmy best well-being thou hast bound thyself \nto save me. A mansion in thy Fa- \n\n& J John 14: \n\nther s house ; the promise that thou 2. 3. \nthyself wilt come and bring me to it — wilt \nsend the Comforter with a ministry T , \n\n■> John 16 : 7. \n\neven better to me than thine — wilt \n\nJohn 14: \n\nthyself come and make thine abode 23# \nwith me — wilt permit me to live in thee as \n\n\n\n64 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJohn 15 : the branch liveth in the vine ; and \n\nJohn 15 \n11. \n\n\n\nthen the unqualified permission to \nask and receive till my joy shall be \nfull — such are the gifts of thy most faithful \nlove. Well didst thou say. \" Not as \n\nJohn 14 ; J ' \n\n27- the world giveth give I unto thee.\" \nO blessed Jesus ! assist me, while I sit with \nthee at thy table, with warm affec- \n\nPrajer for \n\nfaith and tion and unhesitating confidence to \nintrust myself, in body and soul, for \nlife and death, to thee. Help thou me also, \nafter thy divine example, to feel a generous \nlove and a tender care for my fellow-disciples, \nand to go out of myself in ministering, as \nopportunity is given, to their encourage- \n, ment and comfort. Thou hast said, \n\nMutual \n\nlove com \" This is my commandment, That \nye love one another as I have loved \n\nJohn 13 : - / \n\nyou.\" Do thou enable me to re- \n\n\n\nParting Words. 65 \n\nmember this as a portion of thy parting \ncharge, and to count even the humblest of \nthy followers my brother, or sister, well be- \nloved for thy dear sake. Let me not forget \nthat these are to be my companions and the \nsharers of my joy in the world above, and \nthat thou acknowledgest every act of kind- \nness done to them as if done unto thyself. \nBy patience with all their infirmities and \nfaults, and tender sympathy with their bur- \ndens and their sorrows, let me be prepared \nto hear thee say to me at last, \" In- M \nasmuch as thou hast done it unto \nthe least of these my brethren, thou hast \ndone it unto Me.\" \n\n\n\n&■ \n\n\n\n\n66 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE HOLY BOND. \n\nLITTLE while, he said, and hence I go ; \nAnd ye shall seek me, but ye shall not \nfind: \nYe may not follow now ; but left behind, \nMy witnesses, the world by you shall know \nThe truth ; that truth strike root, and grow ; \nA holy kingdom rise, and wide extend, \nTill e'en earth's proudest shall submissive bend, \nAnd unto me all tribes and nations flow. \nBehold, a new command to you I give — \nLove one another: all who will be mine \nLet love in one blest fellowship combine, \nThat each for all, and all for each, may live. \nSo, marked of men, shall ye, 'mid earth's dim night, \nDivinely glow with pure celestial light. \n\n\n\nTin: Unity of Love. 67 \n\n\n\n\nTHE UNITY OF LOVE. \n\n\n\nORD, thou on earth didst love thine own \nDidst love them to the end : \nOh ! still, from thy celestial throne, \nLet gifts of love descend. \n\n\n\nThe love the Father bears to thee, \n\nHis own eternal Son, \nFill all thy saints, till all shall be \n\nIn pure affection one. \n\n\n\nAs thou for us didst stoop so low, \nWarmed by Love's holy flame, \n\nSo let our deeds of kindness flow \nTo all who bear thy name. \n\n\n\n6S Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOne blessed fellowship in love, \nThy living Church should stand, \n\nTill, faultless, she at last above \nShall shine at thy right hand. \n\nOh glorious day, when she, the Bride, \nWith her dear Lord appears ; \n\nWhen, robed in beauty at his side, \nShe shall forget her tears ! \n\n\n\n\n\nVI. GETHSEMANE. \n\n\n\nSATURDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nHEN our Lord had ended die \nmemorable conversation __ . \n\nHe goeth \n\nBMHHI and prayer which fol- totheGar- \n\n..... r , den of \n\nlowed the institution of the sacra- ~ .. \n\nlietnsem- \n\nment of the Supper, he went forth, ^ne. John \n\nrS : r. \n\nattended by his disciples, to Geth- \nsemane. Of the twelve, he here selected \nthree — Peter, James, and John — and took \nthem with him to a little distance Matt. 26 : \nfrom the rest. Then, reminding \nthese of their need of watchfulness and \nprayer, he separated himself even from them, \n\n\n\n70 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nand went still farther, that he might be alone. \nThere it was that the most affecting scene in \nall his life, save only that of Calvary, oc- \ncurred. \n\nThe hour had come in which it was per- \n\njohn 22 mitted to the powers of darkness \n\nand to his malicious enemies to do \n\nHe knows \n\ntheir worst against the holy Jesus. \nff . He knew all that was before him. \n\nsuffering \n\nHe had clear foresight not only of \nthe outward and merely natural suffering \nthrough which he was immediately to pass, \nbut also of those inward and supernatural \ndistresses which were involved in his work \nof expiation, and which must needs be, in a \ngreat measure, incomprehensible to us. His \nhumanity was not a mere appearance : it \nwas real and complete. As a man, he had \nlived a life conformed entirely to the ordinary \n\n\n\nGethsemane. yi \n\n\n\nhuman conditions. He exhibited the com- \nmon sensibilities of our nature. He , \nsuffered, being tempted. It is not \nwonderful, therefore, that in the near m his \nprospect of his last great conflict, all \nthe details of which he perfectly well knew, \nhe should have been exceedingly sorrowful, \neven unto death. He was as one He 1 \non whom the shadow of a vast, im- , \n\ndread ot \n\nmeasurable trouble was beginning to Sl111 \nfall darkly. He went forth to the garden of \nGethsemane, as he had so often done before, \nfor solitude and prayer. But now the weight \nof a great agony seemed to accumulate upon \nhim. It overwhelmed him ; till, his Angels \nhuman strength failing, it pressed ' \n\nhim sink- \n\nhim to the ground. Then he, the ing under \nLord of angels, the eternal Son of his ugon - \nthe Father, needed and received the ministry \n\n\n\n72 Remember Me. \n\nof angels. Ah ! did not tears fall even from \ncelestial eyes at the sight of his deep humili- \nation and distress ? \n\nWell may I linger here, and weep. Listen, \nO my soul ! Behold thy Saviour \n\nIt is good \n\nto watch kneeling alone beneath the ancient \nolive-trees ! He offers up prayer \n\nm \n\nand supplications, with strong crying and \nmany tears, unto Him that is able \n\nHeb. 5:7. \n\nto save him from death, and is heard \nin that he feared. Yes, he feared! — not \ndeath (for he was not saved from that), but \nlest his human strength and courage should \nprove unequal to his last great conflict. He \nwas heard and answered in respect to this. \nNow he is comforted by the sympathy of the \nangelic messenger. Now the divine asserts \nitself in his consciousness again. Though \nhe prays again and again that the cup may \n\n\n\nGethsemane. 73 \n\n\n\npass from him, if this be possible, yet he is \nenabled to say, as expressive of his Matt. 2f>-. \nprofoundest wish, \" Nevertheless, not 3 \nmy will, but thine, be done ! \" He will not \nshrink, but will tread the wine-press alone, \nand accomplish all that belongs to his work \nas the worlds Redeemer. What sublime \nself-sacrifice! What an unfathomable mys- \ntery of suffering ! Let the si^ht of \n\n: & & Tender- \n\nmy blessed Lord, fainting and sink- ness and \n\nm& to the earth with anguish, and, \n& & > » view ot t he \n\nas it were, buried beneath huge bil- Saviour's \nlows of distress — all willingly en- \ndured for a guilty world, endured for me a \nsinner — penetrate my aoul with deepest ten- \nderness and grief! \n\nMost heartily would I lament, dear Lord, \nmy many offenses for which it was needful \nthat thou shouldst suffer. Most tenderly do \n\n\n\n74 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nI recall thy tears and sorrows, that, fixing \nmy thoughts on these, I may gain a \n\nContrition J & ' J & \n\njust impression of the vastness of \nthe debt of gratitude and love I owe. \nThe world, while I come in contact with its \ntrifles, and feel its earthly influences around \nme, would steal away the fervor of my af- \nfections. It would impair the en- \n\nSpirit of \n\nthe world ergy of my faith and hope, repress \nmy heavenward aspirations, and \nmake me forgetful of the truth which I \nshould ever keep in mind, that I am not my \nown, but thine. Often, I fear, it has beguiled \nme into listlessness and languor in respect to \nthe holy duties of my great high calling ; and \nimperceptibly, while I thought not of any \ndanger, has chilled my Christian zeal, and \nmade me too unmindful of thee, my faithful \nRedeemer, — too little anxious to maintain \n\n\n\nGethsemane. 75 \n\n\n\nthe glow and the consistency of a true devo- \ntion to thy service. But, in meditation on \nthe scene through which thou didst pass in \nsorrowful Gethsemane, I would disarm it of \nits power, and renew the holy ardor of my \nsoul. It is so that I would prepare my heart \nfor a right participation in the sacramental \nfeast. I shall think tearfully of the Garden \nwhile I remember thee. \n\n\n\n\n\n76 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nGETHSEMANE. \n\nPREAD thick above, ye clouds, your \n\ndusky vail ; \nHide from yon stars the Saviour's bitter \nwoe : \nq Breathe, ye night winds, in murmurs sad and \n\nlow; \nOr lift, in fitful gusts, your mournful wail : \nListen, thou Olivet ! and, Kedron's vale, \nCatch the sad accents that are borne to thee \nFrom yonder shade — thine own Gethsemane — \nAs when one pleadeth and doth not prevail. \nSee ! to the earth the holy Sufferer sinks ; \nWeighs on his heart an anguish all unknown ; \nBursts from his lips the thrice-repeated prayer, \nYet firm his will the utmost pang to bear ; \nTill for him, fainting while the cup he drinks, \nAngels bring succors from the eternal throne ! \n\n\n\n\n\"In the Garden with Him.\" 77 \n\n\n\n\"IN THE GARDEN WITH HIM. \n\n\n\nHERE climbs thy steep, fair Olivet, \nThere is a spot most dear to me ; \n\nThe spot with tears of sorrow wet, \nWhen Jesus knelt in agony. \n\n\n\nI love in thought to linger there, \nTo tread the hallowed ground alone, \n\nWhere, on the silent, midnight air, \n\nRose heavenward, Lord, thy plaintive moan. \n\nI fondly seek the olive shade \n\nThat vailed thee when thy soul was wrung ; \nWhen angels came to bring thee aid, \n\nThat oft to thee their harps had strung. \n\nThere, on the sacred turf, I kneel, \n\nAnd breathe my heart's deep love to thee, \n\nWhile tender memories o'er me steal \nOf all thou didst endure for me. \n\n\n\n78 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOh, mystery of anguish ! when \nThe Sinless felt sin's heavy woe ! \n\nHell madly dreamed of triumph then, \nWhile thy dear head was bending low. \n\nVain dream ! No grief shall evermore \nStain, as with bloody sweat, thy brow \n\nRobed in all glory — thine before — \nThe seraphim surround thee now. \n\nYet, Lord, from off the burning throne, \nAbove yon stars that softly gleam, \n\nThou com'st to meet me here alone, \nBy Kedron's old, familiar stream. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII. CALVARY. \n\n\n\nSABBATH MORNING. \n\n\n\n\n^HERE they crucified him! Yes, \nthere at Jerusalem, the Luke 23: \nHoly City, the . seat of ' \n\nJ J 1 His, own \n\nthe national religion, they who, as nation re- \nthe chosen seed, and heirs of the \n\n' crucify the \n\npromises, should have been the first M \n\nto welcome the Son and Lord of David, de- \n\n\n\nlivered Him who was the anointed Mark 14: \nKins: of Israel, the Messiah of the >T \n\n£> ' Matt. 27 : \n\nages, to a shameful and cruel death ! \nAmazing spiritual blindness, and desperate \npersistency in sin ! Yet so the Scriptures \n\n\n\n80 Remember Me. \n\nLuke 24 : were fulfilled, and a ruined world \n25-27- redeemed. \n\nChrist, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. \nHe gave himself for the life of the \n\nJohn 6 : 51. \n\nworld. He once for all put away \n\nHeb. 9 : 26. \n\nsin by the sacrifice of himself. Be- \nhold the Lamb of God, that taketh \naway the sin of the world ! By his own blood \nhe entered once into the holy place, \n\nHeb. 9: 12. \n\nhaving obtained eternal redemption \nMatt 26: f° r us - His blood is shed for many \n\nfor the remission of sins. He is \nwounded for our transgressions ; he is bruised \nIsaiah 53: for our iniquities. The Lord hath \n\nlaid on him the iniquity of us all ; \n\nand he bears our sins in his own \n\nI Peter 2 : \n\nbody on the tree. This is indeed \nRev. 13 : 8. the Lamb slain from the foundation \nof the world in the counsels of Eternal Love, \n\n\n\nCalvary. 8i \n\n\n\nand in the typical offering of slain victims \nunto God. He is lifted up upon the . . \n\nr r John 3 : 14, \n\ncross, like the brazen serpent in the \nwilderness, that the dying may look to him \nand live. \n\n\" See from his head, his hands, his feet, \nSorrow and love flow mingled down ■ \nDid e'er such love and sorrow meet, \nOr thorns compose so rich a crown ? \" \n\nFor weary hours he hangs a bleeding vic- \ntim, as if to fix the attention of the universe \non the great atoning act which he performs. \nHe dispenses mercy, even in the \nmidst of his own sufferings, to one \npenitent and believing sinner. In \nthe dreadful anguish — to us incom- \nprehensible — of one forsaken, he cries out \n\n\n\n82 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nonce and again ; and at last bows his \nhead, saying, \"It is finished! \" and \nexpires. \n\nO Jesus ! I sit down as if over against thy \ncross. I deliberately call to mind all \nthat thou didst endure, and I see \n\nagainst the \n\nthat in that great sacrifice of thine \n\n3 «■ thou hast indeed opened a fountain \n\nfor sin and for all uncleanness. Ah, now I \n\nperceive how deep the stain, how \n\nSin seen in \n\nthe light of vast the ill-desert, of sin ! Without \nthe shedding of blood — of thy \n\nblood, O Most Holy! — there could be no \nremission. But thy blood cleans- \neth from all sin. As I behold thee \n\nlifted up upon the cross, thy body broken, \n\nthe crimson streams issuing from thy wounds; \nas I listen to the cry wrung from thee \nin thine agony of spirit — the mys- \n\n\n\nCalvary. 83 \n\n\n\nterv of which agony I can not comprehend, \nsince it involved the hiding of thy 1 \nFather's face — I feel alike the infi- \nnite love and absolute justice of God, the \nand the profoundest conviction that ° Ror \nhe can and will forgive and justify \nevery sinner that believeth. Now I under- \nstand, O Jesus! thy touching words: 1 \n\" This is my body, which is given \nfor you ; my blood, which is shed for you.\" \nMy dearest Lord ! on this thy \n\nlies on the \n\nmost precous and all-availing sacri- \nfice I rely in humble faith. On this \nsure foundation, laid by thee, I build my im- \nmortal hopes. All unworthy in myself, for \nthy sake I am forgiven, justified, \nhave peace with God, and am re- \nceived of him as a child. And what shall \nI say ? How shall I pay the mighty debt I \n\n\n\n84 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nowe ? I thank thee ; I praise thee. I would \nlaud and magnify thy name for ever. Afresh, \nand most deliberately and heartily, I give \nmyself, with all that I am and have, to thee. \nDivine life Let me abide ever in vital union \nwith thee, and live in thy life. Let \n\nand full J \n\nsalvation, love to thee be the ruling passion \nof my heart, the determining impulse of all \nthe actions of my life. While I live, I would \nbe wholly thine. When I come at last to \ndie, may the assurance that thou art mine — \nmy sufficient and ever-living Redeemer — \ndispel all darkness, and give me complete \nserenity and peace ! Then, to the glory of \nthy grace, permit me to behold thy face in \nrighteousness. \n\nAll these rich blessings, the purchase of \nthy death upon the cross, wilt thou seal to \nme, a humble believer, while I shall com- \n\n\n\nCalvary. 85 \n\n\n\nmune with thee at thy table in the remem- \nbrance of thy death. Let me so A11 , r , \nfeed upon thy body and blood, that \n\ned to \n\nI may have the delightful conscious- beiiev- \nness of eternal life begun within \n\ntable. \n\nmy soul. Oh, blessed, blessed day, \nwhen that life shall be made perfect, and, \nwith all the redeemed before the throne, I \nshall unite in saying — \n\nWorthy is the Lamb that was slain, \nand has redeemed us to god by his \n\nBLOOD ! \n\n\n\n>J4 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n* \n\n\n\n86 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nTHE SACRIFICE. \n\n\n\n2 \n\n\n\nONDER of wonders ! on the cross he \n\ndies ! \nMan of the ages — David's mighty Son — \nThe eternal Word, who spake and it was \ndone, \n\nWhat time, of old, he formed the earth and skies. \nAbashed be all the wisdom of the wise ! \nLet the wide earth through all her kingdoms know \nThe promised Lamb of God, whose blood should \n\nflow, \nFor human guilt the grand, sole sacrifice. \nNo more need altar smoke, nor victim bleed : \n'Tis finished ! — the great mystery of love. \nYe sin-condemned, by this blood 'tis decreed \nYe stand absolved ; behold the curse remove ! \nO Christ ! thy deadly wounds, thy mortal strife, \nCrush death and hell, and give immortal life ! \n\n\n\nVia Dolorosa. Sy \n\n\n\nVIA DOLOROSA. \n\nSEE my Lord, the pure, the meek, the lowly, \nAlong the mournful way in sadness tread ! \n\nThe thorns are on his brow ; and he, the Holy, \nBearing his cross, to Calvary is led. \n\nSilent he moveth on, all uncomplaining, \n\nThough wearily his grief and burden press ; \n\nAnd foes, nor shame nor pity now restraining, \nWith scoff and jeering, mock his deep distress. \n\n'Tis hell's dark hour ; yet calm, himself resigning, \nEven as a lamb that goeth to be slain, \n\nThe wine-press lone he treadeth, unrepining, \nAnd falling blood-drops all his raiment stain. \n\nIn mortal weakness 'neath his burden sinking, \nThe Son of God accepts a mortal's aid ! \n\nThen passes on to Golgotha, unshrinking, \nWhere love's divinest sacrifice is made. \n\n\n\n88 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nDear Lord ! what though my path be set with \nsorrow, \nAnd oft beneath some heavy cross I groan ? \nMy soul, weighed down, shall strength and cour- \nage borrow \nAt thought of harder griefs which thou hast \nknown. \n\nAnd I in tears will yet look up with gladness, \nAnd hope when troubles most my hope would \ndrown : \nThe mournful way which thou didst pass in sad- \nness \nWas but the way to glory and thy crown ! \n\n\n\n: Y'^ \n\n\n\nc £/\\^ \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 89 \n\n\n\nAT THE TABLE. \n\n\n\n\nthe thought that Jesus, unseen, is \nwith you, completely pos- Jesuspre8 . \nsess your mind when seated \n\nunseen. \n\nat the table. Be collected, \nreverent, and tender in spirit. Let not a sense \nof your unworthiness make you afraid, but re \nmember that this is a feast of love, instituted \nexpressly for penitent sinners. Reflect that \nthe mere outward receiving of the bread and \nof the wine can of itself convey to you no \nblessing. It is only as it assists your The brea< j \nfaith to apprehend the Saviour in \n\n>inted \n\nthe great act of making his atoning \nsacrifice ; it is only as you inwardly \nreceive him as, through his death, your all- \n\n\n\n90 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nsufficient Redeemer, and feed on him as the \nBread of Life — that the elements presented \nin the Supper fulfill to you their end. While, \ntherefore, the ordinance proceeds, let your \nmind and heart be occupied with such exer- \ncises as the following : — \n\nI. \n\nLord Jesus ! thou art here to meet and \nRecogni- bi ess me at fay table. I am thine. \n\ntion of \n\nI trust thee, love thee, adore thee. \n\nReveal thyself more fully to my soul. \nImpart unto me the Holy Ghost, that by his \naid my spirit may be quickened, warmed, and \npurified, and brought into a holy sympathy \nwith thee. \n\nII. \n\n\" This is my body!\" Yes, dearest Lord! I \nsee in the broken bread a lively emblem of \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 91 \n\nthat body broken for sin — pierced, bleeding, \ndvinor, on the bitter cross. I behold \n\nJ & th in \n\nthe Lamb of God slain — the one \nsufficient sacrifice for sin. I hate \nmy own sins, that helped to plat that crown \nof thorns, and to drive those cruel nails. \n\"Broken for you!\" O Jesus! it was indeed \nfor me. By thy cross, even I may become — \nhave become, I humbly hope — a child of the \nliving God. \n\nIII. \n\nAs I take this symbol, O thou Bread of \nLife! I would spiritually feed on Chris \nthee. I open my heart to receive \nthee ; I give myself to thee anew ; I \nseal my covenant-vows anew ; I take thee \nanew to be my Saviour and my Lord. In \nthis act of eating the sacramental bread, I \n\n\n\n92 Remember Me. \n\nfeel my soul united to thee, and receive of \nthy life and strength. Lovingly and trust- \nThe unity ingly, O my Beloved ! I look up into \nthy blessed face, and thy smile falls \nlike sunshine on my heart. May I abide \never in thy love ! \n\nIV. \n\nAnd now, with a heart melting into thank- \nful tenderness, let me receive the \ngratefully CU p t « This is my blood ! \" Yes, \n\nreceived. . \n\nO my soul ! this only can wash away \nthy sins, and make thee pure in the sight of \nthe All-holy. This cleanseth from all sin. \n\nApply to me afresh, thou who art at \nfaith in the nce the Sacrifice of atonement and \n\natonement. . \n\nthe great High Priest, thy most \nprecious blood. As I taste the wine in affec- \ntionate remembrance of thy bloody death, I \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 93 \n\nlay myself again as if beneath thy cross, and \nentreat thee to grant me the assurance of \npeace with God. \n\nV. \n\nIn this receiving of the bread and wine, I \nwould not forget, dear Lord, that I \n\n& ' • The corn- \n\nhave fellowship not only with thee, munion of \n\nbut with my fellow-disciples. In \nthem thou wilt have me recognize my breth- \nren, and love even the humblest and the most \nimperfect of them for thy sake. I feel my \nheart warm towards them, as mem- Love to \nbers with thee of thy body. Help \n\nJ J A lianhouse- \n\nme to be tender in spirit, patient, \nhelpful, and forgiving, in all my intercourse \nwith such as bear thy name. Make me more \nwatchful to fulfill the new commandment. \n\n\n\n94 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nVI. \n\nThough I must now leave thy table, O \nJesus ! let me not, Lord, leave thy \n\nperpetual \n\npresence presence. Make thine abode in my \nunworthy heart. In the dark hours \nof temptation and trouble, in the moments \nwhen sadness and despondency oppress me, \nand especially when the hour of death ap- \nproaches, may I hear thy comforting voice, \nand know that thou rememberest me as I \nhave endeavored to remember thee this day ! \n\n\n\nIt is by such meditations and petitions \nthat the devout disciple will enter \n\nRemarks. \n\ninto the spirit of the Holy Supper, \nand make his own the benefits it was in- \ntended to convey. These are, of course, \ngiven merely as examples, illustrative of the \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 95 \n\n\n\nreal nature of the ordinance. They are de- \nsigned to express the substance of the exer- \ncises — more or less extended and diversified, \nas the case may be — with which each one at \nthe table should occupy his mind and heart. \n\n\n\n\n96 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nAFTER THE SACRAMENT. \n\nSABBATH EVENING. \n\n~^WT is the close of the Sabbath; and it \nhas indeed been a sabbath to my soul. \nI have been permitted to sit with \nChrist and with his friends, as in heavenly \nplaces ; and the affecting fact that I am \nnot my own, but have been bought with a \nprice, has once more been distinctly placed \nbefore me. Have I not met my Lord in- \ndeed ? Has he not smiled upon my soul, \nand whispered in its deep recesses the assur- \nance that I am his? Has he not breathed \nupon me, and said, \" Receive thou the Holy \nGhost\"? It must be so, if I have rightly \npartaken of the feast. \n\n\n\nAfter the Sacrament. 97 \n\nWhat then ? Henceforth it must be my \ncare to live, not unto myself, but unto Him \nwho died for me, and rose again. This I re- \nsolve to-night, that by his grace it shall be. \nYes, O my loving Redeemer ! who now ever \nlivest Head over all things for thy Church, I \nam earnestly determined that in thy strength \nI will every day be an example unto the be- \nlievers, and a light in this dark world. To- \nnight, therefore, I beseech thee, help me to \ngird up my loins anew, and to set forward \nwith redoubled zeal and diligence in the way \nof Christian duty. Assist me, with watchful- \nness and prayer, with Christian prudence and \nself-denial, to keep myself unspotted from \nthe world. Let me find it in my heart to \nvisit the fatherless and widows in their afflic- \ntion, and to go about doing good, after the \nexample of my Lord. Especially aid me, \n\n\n\n98 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nO my Saviour! to overcome temptation, to \namend my faults of character, and to triumph \nentirely over the sins that most easily beset \nme. Give me the calmness of self-control, \npatience under trials, and submission to all \nthy will. Make me, finally, strong in the \nLord and in the power of his might, firm \nand steadfast in Christian principle, and ever \nfaithful to truth and to thy cause, till my \nwork of life is done. \n\nLord, what wilt thou have me to do? \nMake me to run in the way of thy command- \nments. Let me be able to say at last, in \nthine own emphatic words, \" I have glori- \nfied THEE ON THE EARTH ; I HAVE FINISHED \nTHE WORK WHICH THOU GAVEST ME TO DO.\" \n\nAll this I ask through thy dear cross and \npassion. Amen. \n\n\n\nDelight in Christ. 99 \n\n\n\n\nDELIGHT IN CHRIST. \n\nESUS, thou Joy of loving hearts, \n\nThou Fount of life, thou Light of men, \n\nFrom the best bliss that earth imparts \nWe turn unfilled to thee again. \n\n\n\nThy truth unchanged hath ever stood ; \n\nThou savest those that on thee call : \nTo them that seek thee thou art good ; \n\nTo them that find thee, all in all ! \n\n\n\nWe taste thee, O thou living Bread, \nAnd long to feed upon thee still ; \n\nWe drink of thee, the Fountain-head, \nAnd thirst our souls from thee to fill. \n\n\n\nioo Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOur restless spirits yearn for thee \nWhere'er our changeful lot is cast ; \n\nGlad when thy gracious smile we see, \nBlest when our faith can hold thee fast. \n\nO Jesus ! ever with us stay ; \n\nMake all our moments calm and bright ; \nChase the dark night of sin away ; \n\nShed o'er the world thy holy light. \n\nTranslated from Bernard. \n\n\n\n\nFaith. ioi \n\n\n\nFAITH. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n|Y Faith looks up to thee, \nThou Lamb of Calvary, \n\nSaviour divine ! \nNow hear me while I pray \nTake all my guilt away ; \nO let me, from this day, \nBe wholly thine. \n\nMay thy rich grace impart \nStrength to my fainting heart, \n\nMy zeal inspire ! \nAs thou hast died for me, \nO may my love to thee \nPure, warm, and changeless be — \n\nA living fire ! \n\nWhile life's dark maze I tread, \nAnd griefs around me spread, \nBe thou my guide ; \n\n\n\n102 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nBid darkness turn to day, \nWipe sorrow's tears away, \nNor let me ever stray \nFrom thee aside. \n\nWhen ends life's transient dream, \nWhen death's cold, sullen stream \n\nShall o'er me roll — \nBlest Saviour ! then, in love, \nFear and distrust remove ; \nO bear me safe above — \n\nA ransomed soul ! \n\n\n\n\nt \n\n\n\nA ^ \n\n\n\nT-7 «: *- \n\n\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/remembermeorholy00palm.txt",
    "content": "//Wf \n\n\n\n'/^y /L.-*^ \n\n\n\nJ?i.{^, \n\n\n\nZHf^ \n\n\n\nt/V. \n\n\n\nRemember Me; \n\n\n\nOR, \n\n\n\n\n\n\nBy \n\nRa2^ Palmer. \n\n\n\nJS js 1 n : \n\nIH?: AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. \n\nDepositories, 28 Cornhill, Boston; and 13 Bible House, \nAsTOR Place, New York. \n\n\n\nTHE NEW YORK- \nPUBLIC LIERAaY \n\n1330l91i \n\nASTOIi, LENOX AND \n\nTILDEN FOUNDATIONS \n\n_B 1941 L \n\n\n\nEntered, according lo Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by \n\nThe American Tract Society, \n\nIn the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. \n\n\n\nGeo. C. Rand & Avery, \n\nStereotypers and Printers, 3 Cornhill, Boston. \n\n\n\nTO THE \n\n\n\nMEMBERS OF THE CHURCH TO WHICH HE MINISTER! \n\n\n\nESPECIALLY TO \n\n\n\nClje yottiTCjcr ^Xembers, \n\n\n\nIx WHOSE UNION TO ChRIST HE GREATLY REJOICES, AND FOR WHOSE CHRIS- \nTIAN GROWTH AND COMFORT H3 HABITUALLY I'RAYS, \n\nTHIS LITTLE VOLUME IS INSCRIBED \n\n\n\nBV THEIR AFFECTIONATE FrIEND AND PaSTOR, \n\nRAY PALMEIl. \n\n\n\np \n\n\n\nREFACE \n\n\n\nTo young disciples, it is a question of deep and \nserious interest with what specific thoughts and \nspiritual affections the table of the Lord should be \napproached. In the case of older Christians, like- \nwise, great care should be taken that the inward \nexercises connected with the occasion should be \nsuch as are demanded by the nature and design of \nthis most precious ordinance. To both classes it \nis hoped that this little volume may be useful. \n\nIt will be seen that these pages are intended to \nspeak directly to tJie heart. It is sought to bring \nthe great facts pertaining to Christ's work of re- \ndeeming by his death, which are set forth in the \nordinance of the Holy Supper, into immediate con- \ntact with the religious sensibilities. \n\n\n\nPreface. \n\n\n\nThe plan of the voiume will explain itself. Prose \nand poetry are intermingled, for the sake of vari- \nety, and as speaking to the heart in different ways. \nThe poetical pieces, most of them, have been writ- \nten for the place they occupy. The hymns, \"Jesus, \nthese eyes have never seen,\" \" O Bread to pilgrims \ngiven!\" and \"Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts,\" \nwere contributed to the Sabbath Hymn Book, to \nthe proprietors of which they now belong. They \nare used here by permission. \" My faith looks up \nto thee,\" although so familiar, is inserted at the \nend, because it seemed to form so fitting a conclu- \nsion to the book. \n\nR. P. \n\n\n\n\nOJUiis-iras. \n\n\n\nINVOCATION 9 \n\nTEXTS ON THE INSTITUTION OF THE LORD'S SUPPER . lo \n\nDESIGN OF THE ORDINANCE 12 \n\nQUESTIONS FOR SELF-EXAMINATION 15 \n\nHYMN: CHRIST LOVED UNSEEN 18 \n\nFIRST MEDITATION: ANTICIPATION. — Monday Evening . 21 \n\nSONNET: THE ANOINTING 26 \n\nSTANZAS : \" I SAW THEE \" 27 \n\nSECOND MEDITATION: THE PASSOVER. —Tuesday Evening 29 \n\nSONNET: THE ALARM 36 \n\nHYMN: SELF-DEVOTION 37 \n\nTHIRD MEDITATION: THE UNMASKING.— Wednesday Evening 37 \n\nSONNET: THE DEPARTURE 45 \n\nSTANZAS: SELF-SEARCHING 46 \n\nFOURTH xMEDITATION: THE HOLY SUPPER.— Thursday Even'g 49 \n\nSONNET: THE INSTITUTION S*-, \n\nSACRAMENTAL HYMN -57 \n\nFIFTH MEDITATION: PARTING WORDS. — Friday Evening 59 \n\n\n\nContents. \n\n\n\nSONNET: THE HOLY BOND 66 \n\nSTANZAS: THE UNITY OF LOVE 67 \n\nSIXTH MEDITATION: GETHSEMANE. — Saturday Evening . 69 \n\nSONNET: GETHSEMANE 76 \n\nSTANZAS: \"IN THE GARDEN WITH HIM\" .... 77 \n\nSEVENTH MEDITATION: CALVARY. — Sabbath Morning . 79 \n\nSONNET: THE SACRIFICE 86 \n\nSTANZAS: VIA DOLOROSA 87 \n\nAT THE TABLE 89 \n\nAFTER THE SACRAMENT. — Sabbath Evening .... 96 \n\nHYMN: DELIGHT IN CHRIST 9, \n\nHYMN: FAITH . . 101 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n^Qj<:.X^^ \n\n\n\nREMEMBER ME \n\n\n\nINVOCATION. \n\n\n\n\n^^LESSED Lord Jesus! I recognize \nthe sacrament of the Holy Supper \nas instituted by thee for the re- \nfreshment and comfort of truly renewed and \nbelieving souls, and as designed to be a per- \npetual ordinance in thy visible Church. I \nwould be prepared to keep this sacred feast \nin obedience to thy command. May the \nHoly Spirit graciously assist and guide me ! \nAmen. \n\n\n\nlO \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nTHE INSTITUTION. \n\n\n\n\nMatt. 26 : 26-30. \n\nESUS took bread, and blessed it, and \nbrake it, and gave it to the disciples, \n^ and said. Take, eat ; this is my body. \nAnd he took the cup, and gave \nthanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink \nye all of it ; for this is my blood of the new \ntestament, which is shed for many for the \nremission of sins. But I say unto you, I will \nnot drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, \nuntil that day when I drink it new with you \nin my Father's kingdom. \n\nAnd, when they had sung a hymn, they \nwent out into the Mount of Olives. \n\n\n\nThe Institution. \n\n\n\nI Cor. II : 23-25. \n\nFor I have received of the Lord that which \nalso I delivered unto you, That the Lord \nJesus, the same night in which he was be- \ntrayed, took bread : and, when he had given \nthanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat ; this \nis my body, which is broken for you : this do \nin remembrance of me. After the same \nmanner also he took the cup, when he had \nsupped, saying, This cup is the new testa- \nment in my blood : this do ye, as oft as ye \ndrink it, in remembrance of me. \n\n\n\n\n12 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nDESIGN OF THE ORDINANCE. \n\n\n\n\nHE sacrament of the Holy Supper \n''^ was plainly Instituted for Christ's dis- \n^ ciples. None else could possibly en- \nter Into the spirit of the observance. \nOnly love can find pleasure In communion \nFor whom ^'^^ Chrlst, and In dwelling with \ndesigned, deliberate and protracted medita- \ntion on the scenes connected with his sufifer- \n, , ins^s and death. It was meant to \n\nA mark of ^ \n\ndisciple- be a distinguishing ordinance, sepa- \n'^\" rating those who should observe it \nfrom the irreligious world, and marking them \nas avowed followers of Jesus. \n\n\n\nDesign of the Ordinance. 13 \n\n2. It was further intended to be at once \nthe symbol of a truth, and the seal or con- \nfirmation of a covenant. By its ob- intended \nservance, the sjreat essential truth \"\"^^^y^' \n\n*-^ bol and a \n\nof the Christian atonement was to scni. \nbe visibly acknowledged and kept fresh in \nthe heart of the Church, and to be set forth \nin the sight of all the world. By receiving \nit, each believer most solemnly covenants \nwith his Lord to love and serve him, and \nrenews the pledge as often as he repeats his \nattendance at the table. \n\n3. The Holy Supper was also designed \nto convey to each participant who to convey \nshould rightly receive it divine nour- '^^\"^ ' \" \n\nand com- \n\nishment, spiritual life and health and fort, \njoy, the quickening of right desires, and the \nconfirming of the purpose of faithful Chris- \ntian living. This through the inward ap- \n\n\n\n14 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nprehension of Christ, and^the appropriation \nof his grace by faith. \n\n4. Finally, Christ wished, by the sacrament \nof the Supper, to unite those who \n\nTo secure \n\nthe unity of lovcd him into an intimate fellow- \ne levers, gj^-p^ ^^ brothcrhood, cemented by \n\nmutual sympathy and affection ; and so to \nmake the many members feel themselves to \nbe but one body in him. \n\n\n\n\nSeLF-ExAMIN ATION. 1 5 \n\n\n\nSELF-EXAMINATION. \n\n\n\n\nAVE I truly and deeply felt that I \n^Ww was by nature estranged from God \nC and goodness, — was one of the lost \nwhom Jesus came to save ? \n\n2. Have I reason, in the consciousness of \nwhat I feel, for a comfortable hope that my \nheart has been renewed by the Holy Spirit, \nand that I have truly received Christ by \nfaith? \n\n3. Is it my sincere desire, and steadfast \npurpose, and daily resolute endeavor, to deny \nand subdue myself, to put on the Christian \ngraces, and to grow in likeness of Christ ? \n\n4. Do I habitually remember, and strive \n\n\n\n1 6 Remember Me. \n\nfaithfully to keep, the promises made in my \npublic profession of religion ? \n\n5. Do I depend alone on Christ's atoning \nsacrifice for pardon and peace with God, and \non his power to keep me unto everlasting \nlife ? \n\n6. Am I consciously prepared lovingly and \ngratefully to give myself anew to Christ my \nLord while I sit with him at his table, and \nto renew in all sincerity my covenant-vows? \n\n\n\nIt will serve but little purpose merely to \n\nread the preceding questions over. If you \n\nwill profit by them, reader, take them \n\nRemarks. \n\nup one by one ; interrogate most se- \nriously and faithfully your heart ; and after \ndeliberate reflection, as in the sight of God, \nwho searches the secret soul, answer truly \n\n\n\nSelf-Examination. 17 \n\n\n\nto yourself. You will not be likely to find \neither comfort or strength in coming to the \nSaviour's table, unless you can honestly an- \nswer these questions, with a good degree of \nconfidence, in the afiirmative. Remember \nthe words of the apostle : \" Let a man ex- \namine himself, and so let him eat of this \nbread, and drink of this cup.\" \n\n\n\nO Thou who knowest my inmost heart! \nhelp me in all sincerity to answer \n\n, . ir 1 i Prayer. \n\nthese questions to myself and to \nthee, as in thy most holy presence ; and dis- \npose my heart aright, that I may profitably \nmeet thee at thy board; through Jesus Christ \nmy Lord. Amen. \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nCHRIST LOVED UNSEEN. \n\n\n\nESUS, these eyes have never seen \nThat radiant form of thine ! \n'S The vail of sense hangs dark between \n\nil \n\n\n\n^Jf Thy blessed face and mine ! \n\n\n\nI see thee not, I hear thee not ; \n\nYet art thou oft with me ; \nAnd earth hath ne'er so dear a spot \n\nAs where I meet with thee. \n\nLike some bright dream, that comes unsought, \n\nWhen slumbers o'er me roll, \nThine image ever fills my thought, \n\nAnd charms my ravished soul. \n\n\n\nChrist loved Unseen. 19 \n\n\n\nYet though I have not seen, and still \n\nMust rest in faith alone, \nI love thee, dearest Lord ! and will, — \n\nUnseen, but not unknown \n\nWhen death these mortal ey^s shall seal, \nAnd still this throbbing heart. \n\nThe rending vail shall thee reveal, \nAll glorious as thou art. \n\n\n\n\n\nPREPARATORY EXERCISES. \n\n\n\nI. ANTICIPATION. \n\n\n\nMONDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nJ GAIN the day approaches when I \nmay keep the Christian joyful an- \n\n\n\nfeast of holy love. De- '!''^^^ '°\"^ \nlightful occasion ! I welcome its re- ramcnt. \nturn. Do this — this simple but most ex- \npressive act — in remembrance of ^^j.^ _. \nme! Yes, Lord! with solemn joy I * ^9- \nwill. The command is full of wisdom and \nof grace. The sacrament so instituted in thy \n\n\n\n22 Remember Me. \n\nChurch is at once divinely touching, and ad- \nmirably adapted to the necessities of thy dis- \nciples. I recognize in it a special call to \nself-examination, and to a renewed withdraw- \ning of my affections from their too eager pur- \nsuit of inferior good. Each day, therefore, \nuntil the season comes, I will set apart an \nThe even- hour— it sliall be, as now, the peace- \nful evening hour, if possible — in \nwhich, withdrawn from the noisy world, I \nmay commune with my own heart, and med- \nitate on Christ's great sacrifice. Come, Jesus, \nand bless these moments with thy presence. \n\nI sit in this quiet hour, and look at the \nChrist the fs-ding west. The sun has disap- \nLight of peared. But see what glory he still \n\nthe soul. \n\nsheds upon the world ! Though \nhimself no longer seen, his beams still bathe \nwoods, fields, and streams, and yonder float- \n\n\n\nAnticipation. 23 \n\ning clouds, in rosy light. Even so my bless- \ned Lord, the Sun of righteousness, — though \nno more for a season visible to mortal eyes, \n— sheds a sweet radiance on his Church, a \nsoft and twilight radiance, grateful to loving \nsouls ; and, like the evening light of polai \nregions, not fading till the morning breaks \nagain, and he re-appears. Though Christ \nnow I see him not, yet, believing, I ^^^^^^'^ '^^^ \n\nown till he \n\nam cheered ever with somewhat of comes \nhis light, the reflection of w^iich is ^^^'\"\" \nthe beauty of all saints. Rejoice in him, my \nsoul ! \n\nAt the sacramental table I may meet him, \nif my heart is ready to receive so Christ \ndivine a guest. Contact with the ^°™^' ^^ \n\nthe pro- \nworld begets a sense of defilement, pared \n\neven where there is no conscious- '''\"'^'\"^' \n\nness of deliberate willful sin ; and it is good \n\n\n\n24 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nto return to the fountain, and wash and be \nclean. When the cares and the business of \nlife have hurried me hither and thither with \nno little distraction of mind, I love to come \nback again, and sit down before the cross, \nand gaze on the blessed Sufferer with silent, \n, , tender memories. I love to devote \n\nSclf-conse- \n\ncration re- mysclf to him aucw, and to repeat \nthe vows made in the days of my \nespousals. It is like coming once more into \nthe sunshine after long walking through \ngloom and mist. Let me come to thy table. \nLord, with right affections and with a lively \nfaith, that I lose not the benefits of the occa- \nI Cor. II : sion. To a heart not graciously \n28, 29. prepared, there is nothing life-giving \n\nNo profit \n\nto a care- cvcu in tlic sight of the cross, and \nless heart. ^^ ^j^^ ^j^j^^^ Victim offered there. \n\nGrant me then, O Jesus ! beforehand, such \n\n\n\nAnticipation. 25 \n\n\n\nself-abasement for sin, such rekindling of \nfaith and hope, and such discoveries of the \nfullness of thy grace and love, that I may find \nnew life and joy while with thy people I shall \nsit and commune with thee. Hast johnn: \nthou not said, \" He that loveth me ^^' \nshall be loved of my Father, and I will love \nhim, and will manifest myself unto him\".'^ \nCome, then, and 2:ive me to feel , . \n\n^ Christ's \n\nmost consciously that thou art with presence \nme here. Blessed then, indeed, shall \nthe moments be! Awake, O north wind! \nand come, thou south ! blow upon soi. Song \nmy garden, that the spices thereof ^'^^\" \nmay flow out. From my soul, warmed by \nthe breath of the Spirit, may the fragrant \nperfume of holy affection ascend to Christ! \nThen let my Beloved come into his garden, \nand eat his pleasant fruits. \n\n\n\n26 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE ANOINTING. \n\nMark 13:3-9. \n\nHE came — the sinful — while he brake \nthe bread, \n\nHer broken heart now healed, and brim- \np ming o'ei \n\n$) With holy burning love ; she came to pour \nSweet, precious odors on that reverend head ; \nAnd — as by deep, prophetic impulse led — \nThat sacred body, soon uplifted high \n'Mid scorn and shame, in agony to die, \nBetimes to anoint for its sepulchral bed. \nUngrudgingly she did the loving deed ; \nFor to that glowing heart no ofifering seemed \nToo rich for Him, no cost too dear she deemed, \nIf he with one kind look the gift might heed. \nThe selfish chid ; pronounced her act a crime : \nHe praised, and bade it live to latest time ! \n\n\n\nI SAW Thee. 27 \n\n\n\nI SAW THEE. \n\nWhen thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee. — John i : 48. \n\n^ SAW thee when, as twihght fell, \njW And Evening lit her fairest star, \n^^^ Thy footsteps sought yon quiet dell, \nThe world's confusion left afar. \n\nI saw thee when thou stood'st alone \n\nWhere drooping branches thick o'erhung — \n\nThy still retreat to all unknown — \nHid in deep shadows darkly flung. \n\nI saw thee, when, as died each sound \nOf bleating flocks or woodland bird. \n\nKneeling, as if on holy ground. \n\nThy voice the listening silence heard. \n\nI saw thy calm uplifted eyes. \n\nAnd marked the heaving of thy breast, \nWhen rose to heaven thy heartfelt sighs . \n\nFor purer life, for perfect rest. \n\n\n\n28 Remember Me. \n\n\nI saw the light that o'er thy face \n\n\nStole with a soft suffusing glow, \n\n\nAs if, within, celestial grace \n\n\nBreathed the same bliss that angels know. \n\n\nI saw — what thou didst not — above \n\n\nThy lowly head an open heaven ; \n\n\nAnd tokens of thy Father's love, \n\n\nWith smiles, to thy rapt spirit given. \n\n\nI saw thee from that sacred spot \n\n\nWith firm and peaceful soul depart ; \n\n\nI, Jesus, saw thee, — doubt it not, — \n\n\nAnd read the secrets of thy heart ! \n\n\nA \n\n\n\n.sr^ \n\n\n\n:5)?#:';^^v;C>.,r^ \n\n\n\n\nII. THE PASSOVER. \n\n\n\nTUESDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nIRST in the series of events im- \nmediately connected with \n\nEvening \n\nthe Redeemer's death was ofthePass- \nthe last passover. In the endeavor \nto prepare my soul for the sacramental com- \nmunion of his great sacrifice, let me begin \nat this point, and attend him through some \nof the painful scenes that followed. \n\nHe sat down with the twelve. How sim- \nple is the statement! and yet how Matthew \nmuch does it express ! His hour, as '^'''^' \nhe knew, was just at hand. He must needs \n\n\n\n30 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nperform now his last acts, and make himself \nready to be offered. Once more he will keep \nthat great national feast in which his own \ndeath, as the true paschal lamb, was repre- \nsented. How full of meaning it must always \nhave been to him I But this was to be his \nIt is the l(^si observance of it before the shed- \nia>t feast, ^jj^g ^£ |^j^ ^^^^ availing blood upon \n\nthe cross. The type was now to be fulfilled \nin that great sacrifice, in view of which the \nangel of WTath should pass over the true Is- \nrael, and spare them as redeemed from death. \nThere was every thing in the occasion to \nmove his heart profoundly. He was imme- \ndiately to part from his beloved disciples : \nworse still, he was to be himself deliberately \nforsaken by them for a season, and to tread \ndie winepress alone. All this was in his \nthought. Yet what sublime collectedness of \n\n\n\nThe Passover. 31 \n\nsoul ! No perturbation, no appeal for sympa- \nthy or comfort, no want of his usual \n\n-' Jesus \n\nperfect equanimity. He exhibits his divinely \nwonted calmness, mingled with dig- \nnity and sweetness ; was, in a word, altogether \nlike himself. Dear Lord ! what steadiness of \npurpose, what devotion to thy v/ork, and what \nstrength of holy love, were thine ! Help me \nherein more faithfully to copy thee. For \nlack of these thy graces, thy chosen friends \nwere overcome by the fear of man, and failed \nin the hour of trial. Let me not weakly fal- \nter, if for thy sake, and in the way of duty, I \nam brought to face suffering and shame. \n\nLet me admire, too, the compassion and \ntenderness of Jesus in these affect- ^ , .^. \ning circumstances. When the dis- of the dis- \nciples, not yet understanding the \nnature of his kingdom, and ignorant of the \n\n\n\n32 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nfuture, disputed, in a selfish and ambitious \nspirit, which of them should be greatest, he \nmildly taught them that no such questions \nLake should cvcr be raised among his \n*\" • 24 -7- servants. Then, to enforce his \nteachings by his personal example, he him- \nself assumed the office of a servant, and with \nChrist ^^^ ^^^^ hands washed and wiped \nwashes j-i^eij. feet ! How touching, and yet \n\ntheir feet \n\nhow pungent, the rebuke implied ! \nHow memorable are the words of comment \nwhich he added! — \"If I, then, your Lord \nJohn 13: and Master, have washed your feet, \n^^' ye ought also to wash one another's \nfeet.\" It was thus that he taught his follow- \nThe lesson ^^^ in all time to be clothed with \nofhumiiity humility, and to cultivate and ex- \n\nand love. \n\nhibit a spirit of mutual helpfulness \nand love. Ah, Lord ! how few of us have \n\n\n\nThe Passover. 33 \n\nthoroughly learned this lesson ! But too little \ncare for each other is seen among those who \nbear thy name. Comparatively few are ready \nto perform for each other self-denying ser- \nvices, or even the little acts of kindness to \nwhich love naturally prompts. Have I not \nmyself been greatly deficient in Christ-like \ncare and affection for my brethren ? seif-scm- \nHave I not failed especially to con- ^^^y- \ndescend to them that are of low estate, and \nto seek their good ? Forgive, O Holy One ! \nmy self-seeking, uncharitableness, and pride. \nAssist me to love all thine for thy dear sake, \nand kindly to minister even to the humblest, \nas opportunity may offer. \n\nYe are not all clean! No: fear- John 13:11 \nful words ! In the little band of , \n\ntrayal an- \n\ncherished friends, there was one nounced. \nfalse, hollow-hearted traitor. Perhaps not, \n\n\n\n34 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nIn the beginning, consciously a hypocrite. \n\nQuite probably he had been self-deceived, \n\nand had believed himself a true disciple ; yet \n\nall the while his Lord had recog- \n\nJohn 6 : 70. \n\nnized in him a devil. Dear Lord ! \nand is this possible ? May I, though I have \nSalutary thouglit I lovcd thcc, though I havc \n\nborne thy blessed name and have \nsat around thy table, be counted of thee an \nenemy even now, and fall away from thee at \nlength? When sometimes my heart grows \nlanguid in its devotion, remiss in its watch- \nfulness, and engrossed with earthly interests ; \nwhen the remembrances of thy cross and pas- \nsion are infrequent, or seem in a measure to \nhave lost their power to move me to grateful \ntenderness, — I tremble lest my hold on thee \nshould fail entirely, and should prove to be \nsomething less than the unyielding grasp of \n\n\n\nThe Passover. 35 \n\n\n\na true and living faith. Yet I can not endure \nto think of this. How but in thee can my \nsoul, that longs for sympathy, for rest, for \npurity, be satisfied ? Disowned of thee, what \nwould remain for me but a hopeless wretched- \nness like that of the false apostle ? \" Search \nme, O God ! and know my heart; Psaimi39: \ntry me, and know my thoughts ; and ^^' ^'^• \nsee if there be any wicked way in me, and \nlead me in the way everlasting.\" \n\n\n\n\n\n\n36 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE ALARM. \n\nE kept the Passover ; it was his last : \nFor now drew near the great predestined \nday \nWhen of man's mighty guilt himself should \n\npay, \n\nWith dying groans, and blood, the ransom vast. \n\nThe cross was in his eye ; the hours flew fast : \n\nVet calm he sat, and looked serenely round \n\nOn all the twelve ; while they, with awe profound, \n\nAnd loving gaze on him, revolved the past. \n\nThe future from them hid : then, touched, he said, \n\n\" Of you, one shall betray me unto death ! \" \n\nAt that dire word, betray, they all did start. \n\nAs if a thunder-peal had stilled each breath. \n\nOr sudden mortal pang shot through each heart : \n\n\" Lord ! is it I V each cried with horrid dread. \n\n\n\nSelf-Devotion. 37 \n\nSELF-DEVOTION. \n\n'AKE me, O my Father ! take me, \nV^3 Take me, save me through thy Son ; \nThat which thou wouldst have me, make \nme : \nLet thy will in me be done. \n\nLong from thee my footsteps straying, \n\nThorny proved the way I trod : \nWeary come I now, and praying ; \n\nTake me to thy love, my God. \n\nFruitless years with grief recalling, \n\nHumbly I confess my sin ; \nAt thy feet, O Father ! falling : \n\nTo thy household take me in. \n\nFreely now to thee I proffer \n\nThis relenting heart of mine ; \nFreely life and soul I offer, — \n\nGift unworthy love like thine ! \n\n\n\n38 Remember Me. \n\nOnce the world's Redeemer, dying, \nBare our sins upon the tree : \n\nOn that sacrifice relying, \nNow I look in hope to thee. \n\nFather, take me ; all forgiving, \nFold me to thy loving breast : \n\nIn thy love for ever living, \nI must be for ever blest. \n\n\n\n\n\nIII. THE UNMASKING. \n\n\n\nWEDNESDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nUDAS, though he had flattered \nhimself that the baseness xhe traitor \nof his heart was yet un- exposed. \nknown to Christ, must have been undeceived \nby those few and quiet words — \n\n^ ^ Matt. 26: \n\n\" Thou hast said. That thou doest 25. John \ndo quickly.\" He withdrew at once ^^ \" ^^' \nfrom a presence he could no longer bear. \nConscious guilt must needs desire to escape \nthe presence of spotless purity. Fixed in his \nwicked purpose, his own conscience com- \npelled the traitor to separate himself for ever \n\n\n\n40 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nfrom the loving and true-hearted disciples, \nHe departs and from the holy Jesus. From \n\nfrom ^^^^ hour he became an outcast. \n\nChrist. « He went out, and it was night,\" \nsays the evangelist; night not only around \nhim, but yet more dismal\" night within his \nsoul. He departed from that company of \nI John 2 : the faithful, because he was never \n^^' of them, and not because a real tie \nof love between, himself and Christ had now \nA wrong bccn brokcn. So, soon or late, will \n\nheart sure i • i • i r i \n\nto be every deceived or consciously false \nrevealed, heart rcvcal itself At the bar of \njudgment, if not sooner, Christ will strip off \nall disguises, and exhibit every character pre- \ncisely as it is. O Saviour ! let me not then \nbe found to have been either a deliberate \nhypocrite, or blindly self-deluded. \n\nThe departure of Judas must have been a \n\n\n\nThe Unmasking. 41 \n\nrelief to the blessed Jesus. Now he could \nspeak freely to those, who, in spite The with- \n\nr 1 • r r • ^ i i • di'awing,.of \n\nof their weakness of faith and their r, ,,, , ,.^ \n\nJ UUtlij tx I c- \n\ndefects, were all of them truly his. lieftojesus \nHe alluded in plain terms to the approach- \ning end of his earthly mission, and John 13 : \nto his departure from the world to ^^~^^' \nenter into his glorified estate. Yet he with- \nheld much ; for he would spare their feelings. \nHaving loved his own which were \n\nJohn 13: 1. \n\nin the world, he loved them to the \nend ; and he could freely give expression to \nhis affection. Happy eleven ! what can be \nso delightful as to be allowed, in the Blessed to \ncharacter of confidential friends, to be with \n\nChrist. \n\nenjoy, apart from the world, free in- \ntercourse with Christ .^ This, Lord, .thou \ngivest all who truly love thee leave to do at \nthe sacramental table. With thine, and near \n\n\n\n42 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nto thee, do I earnestly desire to sit, whoever \nmay withdraw. Methinks I hear thee ask, \nJohn 6: 67, \" Wilt thou also go away? \" and my \n^^' heart answers, \" Lord, to whom shall \nI go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life.\" \nNo, no, my blessed Master! As thou shalt \nkeep me, I will never depart from thee, never \nneo^lect to meet thee with thine own around \nthy sacred board. \n\nAnd wilt thou not help me, that, \n\nJesus Will ^ \n\nhelp his weak as in myself I am, I may cleave \nto thee without faltering ? \"I know \nmy sheep, and am known of mine. I give \nJohn iq; unto them eternal life, and they shall \n^'^' ^ \" never perish, neither shall any pluck \nthem out of my hands.\" Such are thy pre- \ncious words. On these I may rely. \niL mo- rj.^^ Qfreat, decisive question is. Am \n\nmentous ^ ^ \n\nquestion. I indeed acknowledged of thee as \n\n\n\nThe Unmasking. 43 \n\n\n\nthine ? Judas was counted in thine house- \nhold; but thou didst see in him a son of \nperdition all the while. My heart, in all its \nsecret recesses, is thoroughly known to thee. \nDost thou discern in me even a little faith \nand love ? Again and again I ask myself \nif I am truly joined to thee. As often as \nT prepare to meet thee in the Holy Supper, \nthe inquiry suggests itself anew; and far \nas I am from complete conformity to thee, \nwhen I listen to the response from my in- \nmost heart, it does seem to testify that I bear \nthee a true affection. I do feel at times — \nunless I am totally deceived — a de- The in- \nlightful consciousness that the Spirit \"''^'\"^ ^^'^\" \n\nness of the \n\nbeareth witness with my spirit that spirit. \nI am a child of God. When thou R«^^S:i6. \nsayest to my soul, \" Lovest thou me } \" I do \nseem able to appeal to thee to answer for \n\n\n\n44 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nme — able to say with Peter, \" Lord, thou \nknowest all things ; thou knowest \n\nJohn 21:15. \n\nthat I love thee.\" Dear Lord, con- \nfirm my faith and hope. Give me a sweeter \nassurance of thy love than ever I have had \nbefore at this approaching feast; while the \nrecollection of the fall of Judas fills me with \na salutary fear. Separation from thee and \nthine! I can not endure the thought. \n\n\n\n\\ \n\n\n\nThe Departure. 45 \n\n\n\nm \n\n\n\n\nTHE DEPARTURE. \n\nHE loved disciple lay upon his breast, \nDrinking sweet influence from that voice \n:^ divine : \n\nHe asked; the Master gave at once the \n\n\n\nThat marked the traitor, justified the rest. \n\nThen with convicting glance, while yet dismay \n\nSat on the faces of the innocent, \n\nHe said — and Judas knew the deep intent — \n\n\" What thou hast purposed, do without delay.\" \n\nHeart-smitten, out into the murky night \n\nWent he, foul demons ruling all his soul. \n\nAnd floods of hate that surged without control : \n\nThen Jesus cried — his eyes beamed heavenly \n\nlight — \n\"Now shall the Son of man — betrayed, denied — \nBefore all men, by God be glorified ! \" \n\n\n\n46 \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nSELF-SEARCHING. \n\n\n\n\nH, tell me, Jesus ! to my heart — \n\nMy troubled heart — the secret tell \nMay I from thee and thine depart, \n\nAs Judas when he falsely fell ? \nIs it not love, this kindling flame \nThat warms my breast oft as thy name \n\nFalls on my willing ear ? \nIs it not faith that oft hath brought \nMy trembling soul the peace it sought, \nAnd stilled each restless fear } \n\n\n\nThis quiet joy that hidden flows \n\nDeep in my soul ; that makes me glad, \n\nThough many a rude wind round me blows, \nAnd many a sorrow makes me sad — \n\nCan this calm joy, that ever lives, \n\nBe aught but that thy presence gives. \n\n\n\nSelf-Searching. 47 \n\nTo faithful souls revealed — \nThe presence and the loving smile \nThat gladden all thine own — the while \n\nFrom unbelief concealed ? \n\nThe tears that oft these eyes have wept \n\nWhen I before thy feet have knelt, \nOr watch about thy cross have kept, \n\nAnd all thy pangs have keenly felt — \nCame they not from that holy grief \nThat brings the broken heart relief, \n\nAnd softens it to love ? \nWas not the hope that wakened there \nHope that shall triumph o'er despair, \nAnd bear the soul above ? \n\nSpeak, thou that knowest well — decide ; \n\nIf I am thine, oh ! clasp this hand ; \nAnd when my feet would stray or slide, \n\nThen firmly hold and bid me stand. \n\n\n\n48 \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nGo forth from thee ? Give me to bear \nThy bitter cross, thy thorns to wear ; \n\nBut let me not depart ! \nNo, Lord : afresh to thee I bring \nA free, a cheerful offering, — \n\nThis trusting, grateful heart. \n\n\n\n\n\nIV. THE HOLY SUPPER. \n\n\n\nTHURSDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nHRIST and his disciples had now \nfinished the Passover. The great \nevent typified by the paschal lamb \n— the slaying of the appointed Lamb .^^^^g^ ^^j. \nof God, who should take away the Passover, \nsin of the world — was just at hand. \nThe Lord, before he would be offered up, \nwould set every thing in order, with a careful \nforesight of the future needs of his disciples. \nThe time had come, therefore, for the insti- \ntution of an ordinance, which, to the end \nof time, might serve at once to express and \n\n\n\n50 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nto sustain the faith of those who should be- \nlieve. \n\nIt was the design of the blessed Jesus that \nhis kingdom in the world should take a visi- \n\nChrist will ^^^ ^*^^^^ ' ^^^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^y> ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^\" \nhave ciples, by some appropriate act and \n\na visible . i i i i i \n\nChurch, testimony, should become known to \nMatt. lo: ^^q]-^ other and to the unbelieving \n\n32. Mark \n\n16:16. woi'ld as his. It was his purpose, \n\nalso, that they should have fellowship one \n\nJohn 17 : ^^^^^ another, and that they all, by a \n\n20, 21. living faith and a holy sympathy, \nshould be united to him, their Saviour and \ntheir life, and should perpetually confirm their \nsouls by cherishing and keeping fresh the \nmemory of his sacrificial death. Who but \nhimself would ever have thought of accom- \nplishing this end by means so very simple ? \nCollect thyself, then, O my soul ! and \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. 51 \n\nbehold thy Lord while he institutes, to be \nobserved throughout all time, this The \n\n- . ^^1 . . , thoughts \n\ntouchmo: Christian sacrament — the ^ , ^, \n\n*^ fixed on the \n\ntaking of consecrated bread and institution. \nwine as memorials of him. Listen while \nwith words of prayer he sets apart Matt. 26 .• \nthese very familiar elements to a ^ ~^^* \nhigh and holy use. Then hear him say to \nthe wondering disciples not yet prepared to \nunderstand him, \" Take, eat ; this is Luke 22 : \nmy body which is broken for you : ^^~^^' \nthis do in remembrance of me.\" And again, \ntaking the cup with thanksgiving, \" This is \nmy blood of the new testament, which is shed \nfor many for the remission of sins : this do \nye, as oft as ye drink it, in remem- Amemori- \nbrance of me.\" It is a truly divine , ,.' „ \n\n-^ beautifully \n\nsimplicity with which the Master simple. \nthi>s sets forth, for the instruction and com- \n\n\n\n52 Remember Me. \n\nfort of all believers, the momentous spiritual \ntruths involved in his cross and passion. \n\nThe act of eating and drinking with one, \n\nfrom ancient times, and especially among \n\nOriental nations, has been simificant \n\nThe act of ^ \n\neating and of mutual Confidence and affection, \ndrinking ^^^ ^ pledge of perpetual friendship. \n\nwith one a \n\npledge of By it the Saviour means, that, in the \nfriendship, gacramcutal feast, his followers shall \nat once acknowledge and pledge anew, from \ntime to time, their love to one another and \nto him. But he goes still farther. He an- \nticipates, what from them was yet concealed, \nthat he should be to the world the Lamb \nslain, — the true Paschal Lamb, — at \n\nChrist the \n\ntrue Pas- the siglit of wliich. Eternal Justice \nchaiLamb. ghould /^j^ ovcr the sins of the pen- \nitent and believing. He knows that he is \nsoon to bear upon his head, and in his hands \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. 53 \n\nand feet and pierced side, the marks of ago- \nnies endured on behalf of guilty man. Bro- \nken for youl Yes, dearest Lord! thou wast \nwounded for our transsfressions ; \nthou wast bruised for mir iniquities. \nThou didst bear our sins in thine ^ e. 2:24. \nown body on the tree. \n\n\" 'Twas for my sins my dearest Lord \nHung on the accursed tree ; \nAnd groaned away a dying life \nFor thee, my soul, for thee ! \" \n\nI see in this bread thy lacerated, suffering \nbody, and through thy sacred wounds r^^^ g \nI penetrate to the anguish of thy per the \n\nsymbol of \n\nspirit. This cup, to me, is the fit Christ's \nsymbol of thy blood— the blood of sufferings \n\nand of his \n\nthe great atonement — shed for the atoning \nremission of sin. As I look upon ^^'^^'^' \n\n\n\n54 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nthis wine, I remember that without the shed- \ndino: of blood there could be no \n\nIIeb.9:22. ^ \n\nremission, and that thou, by thine \n\nown blood, hast entered in once into the holy \n\nplace, havino: obtained eternal re- \n\nHeb.9:i2. ^ ' » \n\ndemption for me, a sinful soul -^- for \n\nall who rest on thy once-offered sacrifice. \n\nYes, thou that takest away the sin of the \n\nThe ob- world, eating this bread and drink- \n\nservance ing this cup, thy disciplcs shall show \n\n, ,. forth thy death until thou come. \n\nper a testi- ^ \n\nmony to So will wc tcll the world and each \n\nthe world. \n\nother that we are thme. When, \nwith my fellow-Christians, I shall again ob- \nserve thy sacramental ordinance, I will ten- \nderly and thankfully remember thee, thy \npainful and bloody death. I will lay my soul \nonce more beneath thy cross ; will repeat with \nhearty joy the vows of faithful love and ser- \n\n\n\nThe Holy Supper. 55 \n\n\n\nvice : and by faith my soul shall feast on \nthee the Bread of life, and drink of thee the \nspiritual Rock, asking for nothing chnst \nmore than out of thy fullness to be ^pi^^tuaiij \n\nreceived in \n\nrichly and perpetually filled. Pre- the \n\nsacrament \n\npare thou me to meet thee at thy ta- \nble. Let thy cup of blessing which i Cor. 10 : \nis blessed be indeed to me the com- \nmunion of thy blood; and the bread which \nis broken, the communion of thy body. \n\n\n\n\n\n56 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nTHE INSTITUTION. \n\nE took the bread, and blessed it. Then he \nbrake, \n\nAnd gave to each, and said — oh words sub- \nHme ! — \n\" This is my body broken ! Through all time, \nIn memory of my death, this emblem take.\" \nNext for the cup gave thanks. For his dear sake, \nHe bade them taste the wine. \" Drink : 'tis my \n\nblood, \nThe seal and witness of all grace in God, \nTill when the judgment trump the dead shall wake.\" \nOh sacred mystery ! communion sweet \nOf holy, loving souls, in which they flow \nAll into one blest brotherhood, and meet \nIneffably their Lord, and joy to know \nThat at this simple board they feast with Him \nWhose face unveiled fires the rapt seraphim ! \n\n\n\nSacramental Hymn. 57 \n\n\n\n\nSACRAMENTAL HYMN. \n\nBREAD to pilgrims given ! \nO Food that angels eat ! \nO Manna sent from heaven, \n\nFor heaven-born natures meet ! \nGive us, for thee long pining. \nTo eat till richly filled ; \nTill, earth's delights resigning, \nOur every wish is stilled ! \n\nO Water, life-bestowing, \n\nFrom out the Saviour's heart ! \nA Fountain purely flowing, \n\nA Fount of love, thou art. \nOh, let us, freely tasting. \n\nOur burning thirst assuage ! \nThy sweetness, never wasting. \n\nAvails from age to age. \n\n\n\n58 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJesus, this feast receiving, \n\nWe thee, unseen, adore ; \nThy faithful word beUeving, \n\nWe take, and doubt no more. \nGive us, thou true and loving, \n\nOn earth to live in thee ; \nThen, death the vail removing, \n\nThy glorious face to see ! \n\nTranslated from Thomas Aquinas. \n\n\n\n\n\nV. PARTING WORDS. \n\n\n\nFRIDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nyjUR Lord and his chosen friends \nseem to have lingered a \n\n\n\nThe Sa- \n\nHi while around the table, ^'^^^^ ^''- \n\ncourses af- \n\nafter the Institution of the Supper; terthe \nwhile he, mindful of their approach- ^^pp^^'- \ning trials, so immediately connected with his \nown, discoursed to them at length. He spoke \nas knowing himself the future, but without \nlifting the vail to disclose it fully to their \nview. When he had reached the point at \nwhich the fourteenth chapter of John closes, \nthey appear to have risen from the table, as \n\n\n\n6o Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJohn 14 : if with the purpose of departing. \n•^'\" But probably, as they stood grouped \ntogether after rising, the conversation recom- \nmenced, and the Saviour went on again, as \nrecorded in the fifteenth and sixteenth chap- \nters ; and then concluded the interview with \nprayer. This supposition agrees with all the \ncircumstances, and is much more probable \nThe con- than that this delightful conversa- \n\nversation ^j^^ Qccurrcd out of doors as they \n\nand prayer \n\nnot out of were walking. The whole spirit of \n'^°°'\"'' the words addressed to the disciples, \nand of the sublime prayer that followed, sa- \nvors of retirement — of a secluded, quiet \nplace — and would ill befit the wayside. \n\nParting words ! They are always affect- \ning, the more in proportion as the person \nuttering them is venerated and beloved. \nThe last words of a father or a mother or an \n\n\n\nParting Words. 6i \n\n\n\nhonored and cherished friend, when ^^^ '^^^^'^^ \n\nof Jesus \n\nabout to leave the world, are wont to touching, \nbe kept by the survivors as the jewels t)ecause \n\nthe last be- \n\nof the heart. But while, as his part- , fore he \ning words, these last sayings of the ^\"ff-^^^^- \nLord Jesus have a deep and peculiar interest, \nthey are yet more precious because ^^^^ ^\"\"^ \n\nrich in \n\nof the invaluable truths and prom- truth and \nises which they embody. They ^^^'^^ort. \nfurnish a solid ground for faith to rest upon \namidst all trials and throughout all time. \nThey breathe the deepest tenderness, the \npurest love, and the most divine tranquillity \nof soul. In these words, the whole ^^ ^p°^*^ \n\nto believ- \n\nChurch of the redeemed, down to ers in aii \nthe last day of the world, have an ''\"^^• \nindividual concern. They belong to me per- \nsonally, if I am Christ's. While now once \nmore I read and meditate upon them, may \n\n\n\n62 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nthey come warm and fresh to my soul, as if \nfrom the Hps of my blessed Master ! \n\nAnd most naturally do they connect them- \nselves with the sacramental season, in that \nI am to commemorate my Saviour's death for \nme, and these are his words of comfort spo- \nken for me as he went to die. How like him \nwas it to be then chiefly occupied, not with \nhis own coming anguish, but with the trials \nJohn i6 : awaiting those who should be left \n^3- without him amidst an evil and hos- \ntile world ! Let me emulate this forgetful- \n\nLii.g ness of self. Let me be more in- \nChrist, to ^Q^^ Qj^ ministering strength and \n\nbe most \n\nmindful of sympathy to others than on moving \nothers. ^\\^QY^ to pity by recounting my own \ndistresses. Forget not, O my soul, in what \nspirit thy Saviour spoke when the hour of his \nown great sorrows was even now at hand. \n\n\n\nParting Words. 6t, \n\n\n\nLet not YOUR heart be troubled! \n\nJohn 14 : 1. \n\nThis is the key-note of his wonder- \nful discourse. \n\nAh, dearest Lord, how hard is this for our \nweak faith! How difficult to con- Faith must \nfide in thee, and fear nothino^ ! Yet ^ ^ ^°\"^ \n\n^ to conquer \n\nwhy should I be anxious ? Of what fear. \nshould I be afraid t In that covenant, which \nat thy table I am going to renew again as I \nhave done so often, every thing absolutely \nwhich is involved in my perfect safety and \nmy best well-being thou hast bound thyself \nto give me. A mansion in thy Fa- ^^^^ . \nther's house ; the promise that thou ^^ 3- \nthyself wilt come and bring me to it — wilt \nsend the Comforter with a ministry fohn 16 : 7. \neven better to me than thine — wilt , \n\nJohn 14 : \n\nthyself come and make thine abode 23. \nwith me — wilt permit me to live in thee as \n\n\n\n64 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJohn 15 : the branch liveth in the vine ; and \nthen the unqualified permission to \n\nJohn 15 . \n\njj \" ask and receive till my joy shall be \n\nfull — such are the gifts of thy most faithful \n\nlove. Well didst thou say. \" Not as \n\n-7- the world giveth give I unto thee.\" \n\nO blessed Jesus ! assist me, while I sit with \n\nthee at thy table, with warm affec- \n\nPrayer for \n\nfaith and tion and unhesitating confidence to \n^°''^\" intrust myself, in body and soul, for \n\nlife and death, to thee. Help thou me also, \nafter thy divine example, to feel a generous \nlove and a tender care for my fellow-disciples, \nand to go out of myself in ministering, as \nopportunity is given, to their encourage- \n, ment and comfort. Thou hast said, \n\nMutual \n\nlove com- \" Tliis is my commandment. That \n_ , 'ye love one another as I have loved \n\nJohn 13 : -^ \n\n34- you.\" Do thou enable me to re- \n\n\n\nParting Words. 65 \n\nmember this as a portion of thy parting \ncharge, and to count even the humblest of \nthy followers my brother, or sister, well be- \nloved for thy dear sake. Let me not forget \nthat these are to be my companions and the \nsharers of my joy in the world above, and \nthat thou acknowledgest every act of kind- \nness done to them as if done unto thyself. \nBy patience with all their infirmities and \nfaults, and tender sympathy with their bur- \ndens and their sorrows, let me be prepared \nto hear thee say to me at last, \" In- ^jj^^j 3.. \nasmuch as thou hast done it unto ^°- \nthe least of these my brethren, thou hast \ndone it unto Me.\" \n\n\n\n\n66 ' Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE HOLY l^OND. \n\nLITTLE while, he said, and hence I go ; \nAnd ye shall seek me, but ye shall not \n- find : \nYe may not follow now ; but left behind, \nMy witnesses, the world by you shall know \nThe truth ; that truth strike root, and grow ; \nA holy kingdom rise, and wide extend, \nTill e'en earth's proudest shall submissive bend, \nAnd unto me all tribes and nations flow. \nBehold, a new command to you I give — \nLove one another: all who will be mine \nLet love in one blest fellowship combine, \nThat each for all, and all for each, may live. \nSo, marked of men, shall ye, 'mid earth's dim night, \nDivinely glow with jDure celestial light. \n\n\n\nThe Unity of Love. 6'j \n\n\n\n\nTHE UNITY OF LOVE. \n\nORD, thou on earth didst love thine own- \nDidst love them to the end : \nOh ! still, from thy celestial throne, \nLet gifts of love descend. \n\n\n\nThe love the Father bears to thee, \n\nHis own eternal Son, \nFill all thy saints, till all shall be \n\nIn pure affection one. \n\n\n\nAs thou for us didst stoop so low, \nWarmed by Love's holy flame, \n\nSo let our deeds of kindness flow \nTo all who bear thy name. \n\n\n\n6S Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOne blessed fellowship in love, \nThy living Church should stand, \n\nTill, faultless, she at last above \nShall shine at thy right hand. \n\nOh glorious day, when she, the Bride, \nWith her dear Lord appears ; \n\nWhen, robed in beauty at his side, \nShe shall forget her tears ! \n\n\n\n\n..y^ \n\n\n\n\nVI. GETHSEMANE. \n\n\n\nSATURDAY EVENING. \n\n\n\n\nHEN our Lord had ended the \nmemorable conversation \n\nHe g\"oeth \n\nand prayer which fol- to the Gar- \nlowed the Institution of the sacra- ^^ °^ \n\nGethsem- \n\nment of the Supper, he went forth, ana. John \nattended by his disciples, to Geth- \nsemane. Of the twelve, he here selected \nthree — Peter, James, and John — and took \nthem with him to a little distance Matt. 26: \nfrom the rest. Then, reminding ^^' ^7. 41- \nthese of their need of watchfulness and \nprayer, he separated himself even from them, \n\n\n\n70 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nand went still farther, that he might be alone. \nThere it was that the most affecting scene in \nall his life, save only that of Calvary, oc- \ncurred. \n\nThe hour had come in which it was per- \n\njohn 22 : mitted to the powers of darkness \n\n^^' and to his malicious enemies to do \n\nHe knows \n\nthat his their worst against the holy Jesus. \n^\"\\° He knew all that w^as before him. \n\nsuffering \n\nhas come. Hc had clcar foresight not only of \nthe outward and merely natural suffering \nthrough which he was immediately to pass, \nbut also of those inward and supernatural \ndistresses which were involved in his work \nof expiation, and which must needs be, in a \ngreat measure, incomprehensible to us. His \nhumanity was not a mere appearance : it \nwas real and complete. As a man, he had \nlived a life conformed entirely to the ordinary \n\n\n\nGethsemane. 71 \n\n\n\nhuman conditions. He exhibited the com- \nmon sensibilities of our nature. He\" HeAvas \nsuffered, being tempted. It is not ^^^^ \"^'^° \n\nhis breth- \n\nwonderful, therefore, that in the near ren in his \nprospect of his last great conflict, all ^\"^^^\"^''^^ • \nthe details of which he perfectly well knew, \nhe should have been exceedingly sorrowful, \neven unto death. He was as one He had a \non whom the shadow of a vast, im- \n\n\n\na \nhuman \ndread of \n\nmeasurable trouble was beginning to suffering. \nfall darkly. He went forth to the garden of \nGethsemane, as he had so often done before, \nfor solitude and prayer. But now the weight \nof a great agony seemed to accumulate upon \nhim. It overwhelmed him ; till, his Angels \nhuman strength failing, it pressed '^'\"=^^'-^'* ^'^ \n\nhim sink- \n\nhim to the ground. Then he, the ing under \nLord of angels, the eternal Son of ^'^ -v^^onv. \nthe Father, needed and received the ministry \n\n\n\n72 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nof angels. Ah ! did not tears fall even from \ncelestial eyes at the sight of his deep humili- \nation and distress ? \n\nWell may I linger here, and weep. Listen, \nO my soul ! Behold thy Saviour \n\nIt IS good -^ -^ \n\nto watch kneeling alone beneath the ancient \n\nolive-trees ! He offers up prayer \n\nand supplications, with strong crying and \n\nmany tears, unto Him that is able \nHeb. 5:7.^ \n\nto save him from death, and is heard \n\nin that he feared. Yes, he feared! — not \n\ndeath (for he was not saved from that), but \n\nlest his human strength and courage should \n\nprove unequal to his last great conflict. He \n\nwas heard and answered in respect to this. \n\nNow he is comforted by the sympathy of the \n\nangelic messenger. Now the divine asserts \n\nitself in his consciousness again. Though \n\nhe prays again and again that the cup may \n\n\n\nGethsemane. yi \n\n\n\npass from him, if this be possible, yet he is \nenabled to say, as expressive of his Matt. 26: \nprofoundest wish, \" Nevertheless, not -^^^ 42, 44- \nmy will, but thine, be done ! \" He will not \nshrink, but will tread the wine-press alone, \nand accomplish all that belongs to his work \nas the world's Redeemer. What sublime \nself-sacrifice ! What an unfathomable mys- \ntery of sufferino^ ! Let the sisfht of \n\n■^ ^ ^ Tender- \n\nmy blessed Lord, fainting and sink- ness and \ninsf to the earth with anguish, and, ^\"^ \n\n^ & ' view of the \n\nas it were, buried beneath huge bil- Saviour's \nlows of distress — all willingly en- ^\"^\"^^ \ndured for a guilty world, endured for me a \nsinner — penetrate my soul with deepest ten- \nderness and grief! \n\nMost heartily would I lament, dear Lord, \nmy many offenses for which it was needful \nthat thou shouldst suffer. Most tenderly do \n\n\n\n74 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nI recall thy tears and sorrows, that, fixing \nmy thousfhts on these, I may o^ain a \n\nContrition J ^ ' / & \n\nand just imprcssion of the vastness of \n\n^^^ ^ \" ' the debt of gratitude and love I owe. \n\nThe world, while I come in contact with its \n\ntrifles, and feel its earthly influences around \n\nme, would steal away the fervor of my af- \n\n„ . . , fections. It would impair the en- \n\nSpirit of ^ \n\nthe world ergy of my faith and hope, repress \nmy heavenward aspirations, and \nmake me forgetful of the truth which I \nshould ever keep in mind, that I am not my \nown, but thine. Often, I fear, it /las beguiled \nme into listlessness and languor in respect to \nthe holy duties of my great high calling ; and \nimperceptibly, while I thought not of any \ndanger, has chilled my Christian zeal, and \nmade me too unmindful of thee, my faithful \nRedeemer, — too little anxious to maintain \n\n\n\nGethsemane. 75 \n\n\n\nthe glow and the consistency of a true devo- \ntion to thy service. But, in meditation on \nthe scene .through which thou didst pass in \nsorrowful Gethsemane, I would disarm it of \nits power, and renew the holy ardor of my \nsoul. It is so that I would prepare my heart \nfor a right participation in the sacramental \nfeast. I shall think tearfully of the Garden \nwhile I remember thee. \n\n\n\n\n7^ \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nGETHSEMANE. \n\n\n\n\nPREAD thick above, ye clouds, your \ndusky vail ; \n\nHide from yon stars the Saviour's bitter \nwoe : \nO Breathe, ye night windvS, in murmurs sad and \n\nlow; \nOr lift, in fitful gusts, your mournful wail : \nListen, thou Olivet ! and, Kedron's vale, \nCatch the sad accents that are borne to thee \nFrom yonder shade — thine own Gethsemane — \nAs when one pleadeth and doth not prevail. \nSee ! to the earth the holy Sufferer sinks ; \nWeighs on his heart an anguish all unknown ; \nBursts from his lips the thrice-repeated prayer, \nYet firm his will the utmost pang to bear ; \nTill for him, fainting while the cup he drinks. \nAngels bring succors from the eternal throne ! \n\n\n\n\nIn the Garden with Him.\" T] \n\n\n\nIN THE GARDEN WITH HIM.\" \n\nHERE climbs thy steep, fair Olivet, \n'^ There is a spot most dear to me ; \nThe spot with tears of sorrow wet, \n^ When Jesus knelt in agony. \n\nI love in thought to linger there, \nTo tread the hallowed ground alone, \n\nWhere, on the silent, midnight air. \n\nRose heavenward. Lord, thy plaintive moan. \n\nI fondly seek the olive shade \n\nThat vailed thee when thy soul was wrung ; \nWhen angels came to bring thee aid. \n\nThat oft to thee their harps had strung. \n\nThere, on the sacred turf, I kneel. \n\nAnd breathe my heart's deep love to thee, \n\nWhile tender memories o'er me steal \nOf all thou didst endure for me. \n\n\n\n78 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOh, mystery of anguish ! when \nThe Sinless felt sin's heavy woe ! \n\nHell madly dreamed of triumph then, \nWhile thy dear head was bending low. \n\nVain dream ! No grief shall evermore \nStain, as with bloody sweat, thy brow : \n\nRobed in all glory — thine before — \nThe seraphim surround thee now. \n\nYet, Lord, from off the burning throne, \nAbove yon stars that softly gleam. \n\nThou com'st to meet me here alone. \nBy Kedron's old, familiar stream. \n\n\n\n\n?) G^^^:^ \n\n\n\n\nVII. CALVARY. \n\n\n\nSABBATH MORNING. \n\n\n\n\nHERE they crucified him! Yes, \nthere at Jerusalem, the Luke 23: \nHoly City, the seat of \n\n\n\nHis own \n\nthe national religion, they who, as nation re- \n\n. ject and \n\nthe chosen seed, and heirs of the ^.,„^if the \npromises, should have been the first Mt>^^iah. \nto welcome the Son and Lord of David, de- \nlivered Him who was the anointed Mark 14: \nKing of Israel, the Messiah of the ^^^^ ^ [ \nages, to a shameful and cruel death! \"• \nAmazing spiritual blindness, and desperate \npersistency in sin! Yet so the Scriptures \n\n\n\n8o Remember Me. \n\n\n\nLuke 24: were fulfilled, and a ruined world \n25-27- redeemed. \n\nChrist, our Passover, was sacrificed for us. \nI Cor. 5: 7. i^g g^yg himself for the life of the \n\nJohn 6:51. \n\nworld. He. once for all put away \n\nHeb. 9:26. \n\nsin by the sacrifice of himself. Be- \nn I . _9. ^^j^ ^^^ Lamb of God, that taketh \n\naway the sin of the world ! By his own blood \nhe entered once into the holy place, \n\nHeb. 9: 12. \n\nhaving obtained eternal redemption \n\nMatt. 26: ^^^ ^s. His blood is shed for many \n\n2^- for the remission of sins. He is \n\nwounded for our transgressions ; he is bruised \n\nIsaiahs?- ^^^ ^^^ iniquities. The Lord hath \n\n5' ^' laid on him the iniquity of us all ; \n\nand he bears our sins in his own \n\nI Peter 2 ; \n\n24- body on the tree. This is indeed \nRev. 13:8. the Lamb slain from the foundation \nof the world in the counsels of Eternal Love, \n\n\n\nCalvary. \n\n\n\nand in the typical offering of slain victims \nunto God. He is lifted up upon the john 3: 14, \ncross, like the brazen serpent in the ^^' \nwilderness, that the dying may look to him \nand live. \n\n\" See from his head, his hands, his feet. \nSorrow and love flow mingled down • \nDid e'er such love and sorrow meet. \nOr thorns compose so rich a crown ? \" \n\nFor weary hours he hangs a bleeding vic- \ntim, as if to fix the attention of the universe \non the great atoning act which he performs. \nHe dispenses mercy, even in the Luke 23: \nmidst of his own sufferings, to one '^^' \npenitent and believing sinner. In Matt. 27: \nthe dreadful anguish — to us incom- ■^^' ^°' \nprehensible — of one forsaken, he cries out \n\n\n\n82 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nJohn lo: oncc and again; and at last bows his \n^°- head, saying, \" It is finished ! \" and \nexpires. \n\nO Jesus ! I sit down as if over against thy \n\nSitting cross. I deHbera,tely call to mind all \n\n. ,^. that thou didst endure, and I see \n\nagainst the ' \n\ncross, that in that great sacrifice of thine \nZech.13 I. ^j^Q^ j^^gt indeed opened a fountain \nfor sin and for all uncleanness. Ah, now I \ne. . perceive how deep the stain, how \n\nSin seen in ^ ^ \n\nthe light of vast the ill-desert, of sin! Without \nthe shedding of blood — of //ly \n\nblood, O Most Holy! — there could be no \nremission. But thy blood cleans- \n\nI John 1-7. \n\neth from all sin. As I behold thee \n\nlifted up upon the cross, thy body broken, \n\nthe crimson streams issuing from thy wounds; \n\nMatt. 27 : ^s I listen to the cry wrung from thee \n\n- 4^- in thine agony of spirit — the mys- \n\n\n\nCalvary. 83 \n\n\n\ntery of which agony I can not comprehend, \nsince it involved the hiding of thy God's love \nFather's face — I feel alike the infi- ^\" J\"^ ^^^ \n\nrevealed in \n\nnite love and absolute justice of God, the death \n\n1 ,1 r 1 • • 1 of Jesus. \n\nand the proioundest conviction that ^^^ \nhe can and will forgive and justify ^3-26. \nevery sinner that believeth. Now I under- \nstand, O Jesus! thy touching words: Luke2-;: \n\"This is my body, which is given ^9 = 20. \nfor you ; my blood, which is shed for you.\" \n\nMy dearest' Lord! on this thy Faith re- \nlies on the \nmost precious and all-availing sacri- sacrifice of \n\nfice I rely in humble faith. On this J^^\"^- \nsure foundation, laid by thee, I build my im- \nmortal hopes. All unworthy in myself, for \nthy sake I am forgiven, justified, Rom. 5:1; \nhave peace with God, and am re- ^ \" ^^' \nceived of him as a child. And what shall \nI say } How shall I pay the mighty debt 1 \n\n\n\n84 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nowe ? I thank thee ; I praise thee. I would \nlaud and magnify thy name for ever. Afresh, \nand most deliberately and heartily, I give \nmyself, with all that I am and have, to thee. \nDivine life Let me abide ever in vital union \n\nin Christ, . , , , ,. \n\nand full ^^™ thee, and live in thy life. Let \nsalvation. Jove to thee be the ruling passion \nof my heart, the determining impulse of all \nthe actions of my life. While I live, I would \nbe wholly thine. When I come at last to \ndie, may the assurance that thou art mine — \nmy sufficient and ever-living Redeemer — \ndispel all darkness, and give me complete \nserenity and peace ! Then, to the glory of \nthy grace, permit me to behold thy face in \nrighteousness. \n\nAll these rich blessings, the purchase of \nthy death upon the cross, wilt thou seal to \nme, a humble believer, while I shall com- \n\n\n\nCalvary. 85 \n\n\n\nmune with thee at thy table in the remem- \nbrance of thy death. Let me so ,„ \n\n•' All good \n\nfeed upon thy body and blood, that in Christ \nI may have the delightful conscious- ^j^^ Jeiiev- \nness of eternal life begun within er at his \nmy soul. Oh, blessed, blessed day, \nwhen that life shall be made perfect, and, \nwith all the redeemed before the throne, I \nshall unite in saying — \n\nWorthy is the Lamb that was slain, \nand has redeemed us to god by his \n\nBLOOD ! \n\n\n\n\n86 Remember Me. \n\n\n\n\nTHE SACRIFICE. \n\nONDER of wonders ! on the cross he \n\ndies ! \nMan of the ages — David's mighty Son — \nThe eternal Word, who spake and it was \ndone, \n\nWhat time, of old, he formed the earth and skies. \nAbashed be all the wisdom of the wise ! \nLet the wide earth through all her kingdoms know \nThe promised Lamb of God, whose blood should \n\nflow. \nFor human guilt the grand, sole sacrifice. \nNo more need altar smoke, nor victim bleed : \n'Tis finished ! — the great mystery of love. \nYe sin-condemned, by this blood 'tis decreed \nYe stand absolved ; behold the curse remove ! \nO Christ ! thy deadly wounds, thy mortal strife. \nCrush death and hell, and give immortal life ! \n\n\n\nVia Dolorosa. S? \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\nVIA DOLOROSA. \n\nSEE my Lord, the pure, the meek, the lowly. \n\nAlong the mournful way in sadness tread ! \nThe thorns are on his brow ; and he, the Holy, \n\nBearing his cross, to Calvary is led. \n\n\n\nSilent he moveth on, all uncomplaining, \n\nThough wearily his grief and burden press ; \n\nAnd foes, nor shame nor pity now restraining, \nWith scoff and jeering, mock his deep distress. \n\n'Tis hell's dark hour ; yet calm, himself resigning, \nEven as a lamb that goeth to be slain, \n\nThe wine-press lone he treadeth, unrepining, \nAnd falling blood-drops all his raiment stain. \n\nIn mortal weakness 'neath his burden sinking, \nThe Son of God accepts a mortal's aid ! \n\nThen passes on to Golgotha, unshrinking. \nWhere love's divinest sacrifice is made. \n\n\n\n8S Remember Me. \n\n\n\nDear Lord ! what though my path be set with \nsorrow, \nAnd oft beneath some heavy cross I groan ? \nMy soul, weighed down, shall strength and cour- \nage borrow \nAt thought of harder griefs which thou hast \nknown. \n\nAnd I in tears will yet look up with gladness, \nAnd hope when troubles most my hope would \ndrown : \nThe mournful way which thou didst pass in sad- \nness \nWas but the way to glory and thy crown ! \n\n\n\n% \n\nA^- \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 89 \n\n\n\nAT THE TABLE. \n\n\n\n\nthe thought that Jesus, unseen, is \nwith you, completely pos- , \n\n•^ i. J L Jesus pres- \n\nsess your mind when seated ent though \n\n1 1 1 T-» 11 1 unseen. \n\nat the table. Be collected, \nreverent, and tender in spirit. Let not a sense \nof your unworthiness make you afraid, but re \nmember that this is a feast of love, instituted \nexpressly for penitent sinners. Reflect that \nthe mere outward receiving of the bread and \nof the wine can of itself convey to you no \nblessing. It is only as it assists your ^^j^^ ^^.^^^ \nfaith to apprehend the Saviour in ^^^ ^^^\"^ \n\nappointed \n\nthe great act of making his atoning ^s aids to \nsacrifice ; it is only as you inwardly ^^^^^^• \nreceive him as, throus^h his death, your all- \n\n\n\n90 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nsufficient Redeemer, and feed on him as the \nBread of Life — that the elements presented \nin the Supper fulfill to you their end. While, \ntherefore, the ordinance proceeds, let your \nmind and heart be occupied with such exer- \ncises as the following : — \n\nT. \n\nLord Jesus ! thou art here to meet and \n\nRecogni- blcss mc at thy table. I am thine, \ntionof J ^^^g^ ^-^^^^ j^^^ ^j^^^^ adore thee. \n\nChrist as \n\npresent. Revcal thysclf more fully to my soul. \nImpart unto me the Holy Ghost, that by his \naid my spirit may be quickened, warmed, and \npurified, and brought into a holy sympathy \nwith thee. \n\nTI. \n\n\" This is my body!\" Yes, dearest Lord! I \nsee in the broken bread a lively emblem of \n\n\n\nAt the Table. \n\n\n\nthat body broken for sin — pierced, bleeding, \ndvinsf, on the bitter cross. I behold \n\n•' ^' Faith in \n\nthe Lamb of God slain — the one the dying \nsufficient sacrifice for sin. I hate \nmy own sins, that helped to plat that crown \nof thorns, and to drive those cruel nails. \n\"Broken for you!\" O Jesus! it was indeed \nfor me. By thy cross, even I may become — \nhave become, I humbly hope — a child of the \nliving God. \n\nIII. \n\nAs I take this symbol, O thou Bread of \nLife ! I would spiritually feed on Christ re- \n\n,1 T 1 j_ i_ • ceived as \n\nthee. I open my heart to receive \n\n^ ^ the Bread \n\nthee ; I give myself to thee anew ; I of Life. \nseal my covenant-vows anew ; I take thee \nanew to be my Saviour and my Lord. In \nthis act of eating the sacramental bread, I \n\n\n\n92 Remember Me. \n\nfeel my soul united to thee, and receive of \nthy life and strength. Lovingly and trust- \n\nThc u-nit ' ^^S^X' ^ ^^^y ^^^oved ! I look up into \nof love, thy blessed face, and thy smile falls \nlike sunshine on my heart. May I abide \never in thy love ! \n\nIV. \n\nAnd now, with a heart melting into thank- \nful tenderness, let me receive the \n\nThe cup \n\ngratefully cup. \" Tliis is Illy blood ! \" Yes, \nleceive , q ^^ ^^^j j ^j^-^ ^^|^ ^^^ wash away \n\nthy sins, and make thee pure in the sight of \n\nthe All-holy. This cleanseth from all sin. \n\nApply to me afresh, thou who art at \n\nwith new ^^ ^ \n\nfaith in the oucc thc Sacrificc of atonement and \nthe great High Priest, thy most \nprecious blood. As I taste the wine in affec- \ntionate remembrance of thy bloody death, I \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 93 \n\nlay myself again as if beneath thy cross, and \nentreat thee to grant me the assurance of \npeace with God. \n\nV. . \n\nIn this receiving of the bread and wine, I \nwould not forsret, dear Lord, that I r^, \n\nt? ' ' The corn- \n\nhave fellowship not only with thee, munion of \n\n1 -1 r n T • 1 T saints. \n\nbut with my fellow-disciples. In \nthem thou wilt have me recognize my breth- \nren, and love even the humblest and the m^ost \nimperfect of them for thy sake. I feel my \nheart warm towards them, as mem- Love to \nbers with thee of thy body. Help ^lal house- \nmc to be tender in spirit, patient, i^oid. \nhelpful, and forgiving, in all my intercourse \nwith such as bear thy name. Make me more \nwatchful to fulfill the new commandment. \n\n\n\n94 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nVI. \nThough I must now leave thy table, O \nChrist's Jesus! let me not, Lord, leave thy \n\nperpetual \n\npresence presence. Make thine abode in my \nsought, unworthy heart. In the dark hours \nof temptation and trouble, in the moments \nwhen sadness and despondency oppress me, \nand especially when the hour of death ap- \nproaches, may I hear thy comforting voice, \nand know that thou rememberest me as I \nhave endeavored to remember thee this day ! \n\n\n\nIt is by such meditations and petitions \nthat the devout disciple will enter \n\nRemarks. \n\ninto the spirit of the Holy Supper, \nand make his own the benefits it was in- \ntended to convey. These are, of course, \ngiven merely as examples, illustrative of the \n\n\n\nAt the Table. 95 \n\n\n\nreal nature of the ordinance. They are de- \nsigned to express the substance of the exer- \ncises — more or less extended and diversified, \nas the case may be — with which each one at \nthe table should occupy his mind and heart. \n\n\n\n\ng6 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nAFTER THE SACRAMENT. \n\nSABBATH EVENING. \n\nT is the close of the Sabbath ; and it \nhas indeed been a sabbath to my soul. \nI have been permitted to sit with \nChrist and with his friends, as in heavenly \nplaces ; and the affecting fact that I am \nnot my own, but have been bought with a \nprice, has once more been distinctly placed \nbefore me. Have I not met my Lord in- \ndeed ? Has he not smiled upon my soul, \nand whispered in its deep recesses the assur- \nance that I am his ? Has he not breathed \nupon me, and said, \" Receive thou the Holy \nGhost \".^ It must be so, if I have rightly \npartaken of the feast. \n\n\n\nAfter the Sacrament. 97 \n\nWhat then ? Henceforth It must be my \ncare to live, not unto myself, but unto Him \nwho died for me, and rose again. This I re- \nsolve to-night, that by his grace it shall be. \nYes, O my loving Redeemer ! who now ever \nlivest Head over all things for thy Church, I \nam earnestly determined that in thy strength \nI will every day be an example unto the be- \nlievers, and a light in this dark world. To- \nnight, therefore, I beseech thee, help me to \ngird up my loins anew, and to set forward \nwith redoubled zeal and diligence in the way \nof Christian duty. Assist me, with watchful- \nness and prayer, with Christian prudence and \nself-denial, to keep myself unspotted from \nthe world. Let me find it in my heart to \nvisit the fatherless and widows in their afflic- \ntion, and to go about doing good, after the \nexample of my Lord. Especially aid me, \n\n\n\nRemember Me. \n\n\n\nO my Saviour! to overcome temptation, to \namend my faults of character, and to triumph \nentirely over the sins that most easily beset \nme. Give me the calmness of self-control, \npatience under trials, and submission to all \nthy will. Make me, finally, strong in the \nLord and in the power of his might, firm \nand steadfast in Christian principle, and ever \nfaithful to truth and to thy cause, till my \nwork of life is done. \n\nLord, what wilt thou have me to do ? \nMake me to run in the way of thy command- \nments. Let me be able to say at last, in \nthine own emphatic words, \" I have glori- \nfied THEE ON THE EARTH ; I HAVE FINISHED \nTHE WORK WHICH THOU GAVEST ME TO DO.\"-. \n\nAll this I ask through thy dear cross and \npassion. Amen. \n\n\n\nDelight in Christ. 99 \n\n\n\n\nDELIGHT IN CHRIST. \n\n\n\nESUS, thou Joy of loving hearts, \n\nThou Fount of Hfe, thou Light of men, \n\nFrom the best bUss that earth imparts \nWe turn unfilled to thee again. \n\n\n\nThy truth unchanged hath ever stood ; \n\nThou savest those that on thee call : \nTo them that seek thee thou art good ; \n\nTo them that find thee, all in all ! \n\n\n\nWe taste thee, O thou living Bread, \nAnd long to feed upon thee still ; \n\nWe drink of thee, the Fountain-head, \nAnd thirst our souls from thee to fill. \n\n\n\n1330iy|{ \n\n\n\n:oo Remember Me. \n\n\n\nOur restless spirits yearn for thee \nWhere'er our changeful lot is cast ; \n\nGlad when thy giacious smile we see, \nBlest when our faith can hold thee fast. \n\nO Jesus ! ever with us stay ; \n\nMake all our moments calm and bright ; \nChase the dark night of sin away ; \n\nShed o'er the world thy holy light. \n\n\n\n\n* ■- — - {J \n\n\n\nFaith. ioi \n\n\n\nFAITH. \n\n\n\n\n|Y Faith looks up to thee, \nThou Lamb of Calvary, \nSaviour divine ! \n(?J4^ Now hear me while I pray : \n\nTake all my guilt away ; \nO let me, from this day. \nBe wholly thine. \n\nMay thy rich grace impart \nStrength to my fainting heart, \n\nMy zeal inspire ! \nAs thou hast died for me, \nO may my love to thee \nPure, warm, and changeless be — \n\nA living fire ! \n\nWhile life's dark maze I tread. \nAnd griefs around me spread. \nBe thou my guide ; \n\n\n\nI02 Remember Me. \n\n\n\nBid darkness turn to day, \nWipe sorrow's tears away, \nNor let me ever stray \nFrom thee aside. \n\nWhen ends life's transient dream, \nWhen death's cold, sullen stream \n\nShall o'er me roll — \nBlest Saviour ! then, in love, \nFear and distrust remove ; \nO bear me safe above — \n\nA ransomed soul ! \n\n\n\ny \n\n\n\n"
  },
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    "path": "inst/extdata/ats/thoughtsonpopery00nevi.txt",
    "content": "L I B H -A. n \"sr \n\nPBINCETOK. y. J. \nThe Stephen Collins Donation. \n\n\n\nNo. Casc^ \n\n\n\nDivj^ip \n\n\n\nNo. ^^^^(A_Sjecti0nJk \n\nNo. Book, -^^ \n\n\n\nBV A501 .NA 1836a \n\nNevins, William, 1797-1835. \n\nThoughts on popery \n\n\n\nJ \n\n\n\nf ••> \n\n\n\n.^.r \n\n\n\nyy \n\n\n\ny^.pH^A^-' \n\n\n\n/ \n\n\n\n^ as <©■ ^ ^ ms If s \n\n\n\n^ <. \n\n\n\n\" To the law and to the testimony.\" Isa. \n\n\n\nBY REV. WILLIAM Kevins, d. d, \n\nLate Pastor of a Church in Baltimore. \n\n\n\nPUBLISHED BV THE \n\nAMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, \n150 NASSAU-STREET, KEW-tORK. \n\n\n\nD. Fanshaw, Printer. \n\n\n\n^ •*.'»- 3t'V>.. \n\n\n\nEntered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836, by \nRuFUS L. Nevins, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court \nof the Southern District of New-York. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nNo. Page. \n\n1. Sufficiency of the Bible as a Rule of Faith and \n\nGuide to Salvation, 7 \n\n2. The Source of Heresies, ----- 10 \n\n3. Private Interpretation, - - - - - -11 \n\n4. Popery Unscriptural, ----- 15 \n\n5. Evil of believing too much, 18 \n\n6. The Nine Commandments, - - - - 21 \n\n7. Catholic hostility to the Bible, - - - - 25 \n\n8. Something for the Rev. Mr. H. - - - - 30 \n\n9. Distinction of Sins into Mortal and \"Venial, - - 33 \n\n10. The Deadly Sins, 35 \n\n11. A Religion without a Holy Spirit, - - - 37 \n\n12. Infallibility, - 40 \n\n13. The Keys, 44 \n\n14. The Head of the Church, 47 \n\n15. The power to forgive Sins, - - - - - 51 \n\n16. A Catholic Book reviewed, - - - - 56 \n\n17. Review of the Catholic Book continued, - - 60 \n\n18. The Pope an Idolater, - - - - . - 65 \n\n19. Charles X. an Idolater, 69 \n\n20. Idolatiy near home, ------ 73 \n\n21. Praying to Saints, - - - - - • 76 \n\n22. Specimens of Catholic Idolatry, - - - 80 \n\n23. More Specimens of Catholic Idolatry, - - - 85 \n\n24. Image Worship, ------ 89 \n\n25. Relics, 94 \n\n26. Seven Sacraments, ------ 100 \n\n27. Transubstantiation, 103 \n\n28. Haifa Sacrament, 105 \n\n29 Extreme Unction, 109 \n\n\n\n4 CONTENTS. \n\nNo. Page. \n\n30. Doing Penance, 112 \n\n31. The hardest Religion, 116 \n\n32. More about Penance, 120 \n\n33. A Fast-day Dinner, ----- 122 \n\n34. The Mass, 125 \n\n35. More about the Mass, - . - - . ISO \n\n36. The Host, - - 136 \n\n37. Priests, 140 \n\n38. Celibacy of the Clergy,^ 144 \n\n39. A Holier state than Matrimony, - - - 146 \n\n40. Auricular Confession, 148 \n\n41. A Mistake Corrected 151 \n\n42. Purgatory, -------- 152 \n\n43. More about Purgatory, ----- 156 \n\n44. A Strange Thing, - 158 \n\n45. Canonizing Saints, - 161 \n\n46. General La Fayette not at rest, - - - - 165 \n\n47. Prayers for the Faithful Departed, - - - 170 \n\n48. An Improvement, 175 \n\n49. The Duke of Brunswick's Fiftieth Reason, - 178 \n\n50. The Duke's Seventh Reason, - - - - 181 \n\n51. The Duke's Eleventh Reason, . - - 187 \n53. Beauties of the Leopold Reports, - - - 190 \n\n53. Beauties of the Leopold Reports, . - - 194 \n\n54. Partiality of the Church of Rome, - - . 196 \n\n55. Supererogation, - - - - - - 200 \n\n56. Convents, 204 \n\n57. Mr. Berrington and Mrs, More, - - - 207 \n\n58. A new method of exciting Devotion, - - - 212 \n\n\n\nThe lamented author of the following articles had long \nmourned over the influence of Romanism, as essentially a \npolitical rather than a religious institution — attracting men \nby its splendid and imposing exterior, to the neglect of that \nspirituality of heart, without which no man can \"see the \nkingdom of God.\" He had made repeated endeavors to \nengage what he considered abler pens in exposing its ab- \nsurdities ; and at length, as a means of reaching the greatest \nnumber of minds, commenced the insertion of brief mis- \ncellaneous articles bearing on the subject in a widely circu- \nlated weekly newspaper — the New- York Observer — using \nthe signature M. S. the finals of his name. In familiarity \nof style, kindness and cheerfulness of manner, and plain \ncommon sense, they are adapted to secure the attention and \ncarry conviction to the heart of the general reader; while \ntheir richness of thought and clearness and conclusiveness \nof argument will render them not less acceptable to mature \nand cultivated minds. Finding the reception they met, it \nwas the design of the author to comply with requests from \nnumerous sources entitled to his regard, by himself (when \nthe series should have been somewhat further extended) \nembodying them in a volume ; but the failure of his health \nand the early close of his valuable life prevented the fulfill- \nment of that design. They are now given to the public iu \naccordance with general suggestions of the author, but es- \nsentially in the form in which they at first appeared. \n\n\n\n^aB<©i^<SIIg^^ <S>^ 5S'^^222&'a?, \n\n\n\n1. Tbe Siiffioieuoy of tlie Bible as a Rule of Faitli \nand Guide to Salvation. \n\nThis is the great matter in controversy between Pro- \ntestants and Roman Catholics. We say the Bible is \nsufficient. They say that it is not. Now, suppose that \nPaul the apostle be permitted to decide between us. \nWe are agreed to refer the matter to him. Can our \nopponents object to this reference ? Let Paul then be \nconsulted in the only way in which he can be, viz. \nthrough his acknowledged writings. It is agreed on all \nhands that he wrote the second epistle to Timothy. \nWell, in the third chapter of that epistle, and at the \n15th verse, he writes to Timothy thus : \" And that \nfrom a child thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, \nwhich are able to make thee wise unto salvation.\" \nThat the Greek is here correctly translated into Eng- \nlish, any scholar may see. \n\nHere then we have what Paul wrote, and I cannot \nbelieve that he would write, in a letter to Timothy, that \nthe Holy Scriptures are capable of being known by a \nchild, and able to make wise unto salvation, and then \nsay, to be handed down by tradition, that they are so \nobscure and abstruse that one can make nothing out \nof them. \n\nBut what did Paul write to Timothy about the Holy \n\n\n\n8 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nScriptures ? He reminds him that he had known them \nfrom a child, that is, he had been acquainted with them \nso far as to understand them from that early age. Now, \neither Timothy was a most extraordinary child, of \nwhich there is no proof, or else the Holy Scriptures \nof the Old Testament, and of the New, so far as the \nlatter was written and recognized at the time, are in- \ntelligible to a child. I see not how this conclusion can \nin any way be evaded. If the child of Eunice could \nand did know them, why may not my child and your \nchild, and any child of ordinary understanding ? And \nwhat do we want more for a rule of faith, than a Bible \nwhich a child can understand ? The Bible then can- \nnot be insufficient as a rule of faith, through any want \nof perspicuity in it. That point is settled. \n\nBut Paul says something more to Timothy about \nthese same Scriptures, \" lohich,^^ he says, \" ai^e able \nto make thee wise unto salvation.\" Why, what is the \nmatter with the man ? He talks as if he had taken \nlessons of Luther. When did he live ? They say that \nthe Protestant religion is only three hundred years old, \nbut here is a man Avho lived well nigh eighteen hun- \ndred years ago, that writes amazingly like a Protestant \nabout the Holy Scriptures. He says (and I have just \nbeen looking at the Greek to see if it is so there, and I \nfind that it is) they are able to make thee wise unto \nsalvation. Now, who Avishes to be wiser than that? \nand if they can make one thus wise, they can make \nany number equally wise. So then the Scriptures can \nbe known by children, and can make Avise to salvation \nthose who know them. This is Paul's decision, and \nhere should be an end of the controversy. If this prove \nnot the sufficiency of the Bible as a rule of faith and \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 9 \n\nguide to salvation, I know not how any thing can be \nproved. I will tell you what I am determined to do \nthe next time a Catholic opens his mouth to me about \nthe insufficiency and obscurity of our rule of faith, I \nmean to take hold of the sword of the Spirit by this \nhandle, 2 Tim. 3 : 15, and I mean to hold on to this \nweapon of heavenly temper, and to wield it manfully, \nuntil my opponent surrender or retreat. He cannot \nstand before it. \n\nBut before I close this, I must say, that if the Scrip- \ntures which existed when Paul wrote to Timothy were \nable to make wise unto salvation, how much more \nare they with what has been added to the canon since ? \nAnd here, by the way, we have an answer to the ques- \ntion which the Catholic asks with such an air of tri- \numph : \" How, if this be your rule of faith, did Chris- \ntians get along before the New Testament was writ- \nten and received ?\" Very well ; they had Scriptures \nenough to make them \"wise unto salvation\" as early \nas the time of Timothy ; and they had, many years \nbefore that, all the Old Testament, and a part of the \nNew. Now, with Moses and the prophets, and the \nPsalms, and Matthew's Gospel, and perhaps some \nothers, together with a large number of divinely in- \nspired men, I think they must have got along very \ncomfortably. \n\nOne thing more I desire to say. It is this : that there \nis an advantage for understanding the Bible, which \ndoes not belong to any book whose author is not per- \nsonally accessible. The advantage is, that we have \ndaily and hourly opportunity to consult the Author of \nthe Bible on the meaning of it. We can, at any mo- \nment we please, go and ask him to interpret to us any \n\n\n\n10 THOUGHTS ON POPERY, \n\ndifficult passage. We can lift off our eyes from the \nword of truth, when something occurs which we do \nnot readily comprehend, and direct them to the throne \nof grace. And what encouragement we have to do \nthis ! James tells us, \" If any of you lack wisdom, let \nhim ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and \nupbraideth not ; and it shall be given him.\" So then \nwe have the Bible to inform and guide us, and we \nhave constant opportunities of consulting its Author in \nregard to its meaning. Is it not enough 1 I, for one, \nam satisfied. I can dispense with the fathers, &c. &c. \n\n\n\n2. The Source of Heresies* \n\nThe Roman Catholics say it is the Bible. They \ntrace all the errors and divisions which prevail, to the \nScriptures as their fountain. Do they know whose \nbook it is which they thus accuse ? How dare they \ncharge God with being \" the Author of confusion ?\" \nBut is the Bible to blame for heresies ? Christ gives a \nvery different account of the matter. He says, Matt. \n22 : 29, to the Sadducees, \" Ye do err, not knowing the \nScriptures.\" He makes ignorance of the Scriptures \nthe source of heresies. He does not agree with the \npriests. \n\nIt is very strange, if the reading of the Scriptures is \nthe cause of heresies in religion, that the Bereans, who \nsearched them daihj, because they would not take on \ntrust even what Paid said, (and I suspect they would \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 11 \n\nnot have treated Peter any more civilly,) did not fall \ninto any of these errors. It would seem to have had \nquite a contrary effect, for it is added, \" therefore many \nof them believed.\" Acts, 17 : 11, 12. Whatever these \nBereans were, it is clear that they were not good Ca- \ntholics. \n\nBut after all it is not surprising that these noble Be- \nreans did not fall into any fatal error by reason of read- \ning the Scriptures, since Peter says of Paul's hardest \nparts, and most obscure passages, that they do nobody \nany harm, but such as are both '^ unlearned and un- \nstable ;\" and that they do them no harm, except they \nwrest them, that is, do absolute violence to them. 2 \nPet. 3 : 16. \n\n\n\n3. Private Interpretation* \n\nIt is known to every body how strenuously the Ca- \ntholics oppose the reading of the Bible, or rather, I \nshould say, the reader exercising his mind on the \nBible which he reads. He may read for himself, if \nhe will only let the church think for him. He may \nhave a New Testament, and he may turn to such a \npassage as John, 3 : 16, \" God so loved the world that \nhe gave his only begotten Son,\" &c. or to that. Matt. \n11 : 28, 30, \" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are \nheavy laden, and I will give you rest,\" &c. and he \nmay read the words, but then he must not attempt to \nput a meaning upon them, though it be very difficult \n\n\n\n12 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nto avoid attaching a sense to them, since they are \nquite as easy to be understood as they are to be read. \nBut he must not do it. At his peril he must not. He \nis guilty of the crime of private interpretation, if he \ndoes. Before he pretends to understand those passages, \nhe must inquire how the church has always interpreted \nthem, and what the popes and general councils have \nthought about them, and how all the fathers^ from \nBarnabas to Bernard, not one excepted, have under- \nstood them. Well, now, it strikes me as rather hard \nupon the poor sinner, that he should be made to go \nthrough this long and difficult process before he is \npermitted to admire the love of God in the gift of his \nSon, and before he can go to Jesus for rest. And \nsomehow I cannot help suspecting that it is not ne- \ncessary to take this circuitous course, and that it is \nnot so very great a sin when one reads such passages, \nto understand them according to the obvious import \nof their terms. \n\nBut the Catholic asks, \" Does not Peter condemn \nprivate interpretation ?\" And they point us to his 2d \nEpistle, 1 : 20. '• Knowing this first, that no prophecy \nof the Scripture is of any private interpretation.\" Now \nyou must know that Catholics, though they have no \ngreat attachment to the Bible, are as glad as any peo- \nple can be, when they can get hold of a passage of it, \nwhich seems to establish some tenet of theirs. And \nas only a very small portion of the Bible has even the \nappearance of favoring them, one may observe with \nwhat eagerness they seize upon, and with what te- \nnacity they cling to the rare passages which seem to \nbefriend their cause. Thus they do with this pas- \nsage of Peter. Thev quote it with an air of triiunph, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 13 \n\nand exultingly ask what Protestants can have to re- \nply to it. \n\nNow, in the name of Protestants, I will state in two \nor three particulars what we have to say in opposition \nto the Catholic inference from these words of Peter. \nWe say that that passage does not make for the Ca- \ntholic cause, Jirst, because if the right of private judg- \nment and private interpretation is taken away by it, \nas they affirm, yet it is taken away with respect to \nonly a small part of the Bible, viz. the prophetic part. \nHe does not say that any other part, the historical, the \ndidactic, or the hortatory, is of private interpretation, \nbut only the prophetic, that part in which something \nis foretold. He does not say no Scripture, but \" no \nprophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpreta- \ntion.\" AlloAving then to the Catholic all which he \ncontends for, we are left with by far the larger part \nof the Bible open to private interpretation. Peter re- \nstricts us only in the matter of prophecy ! \n\nBut secondly, let me say, that to whatever the re- \nmark of the apostle has reference, it can easily be \nshown that it does not mean what the Catholic under- \nstands it to mean. This is evident from what follows \nit. I wish the reader would turn to the passage. He \nwill perceive that Peter, having said that no prophecy \nof the Scripture is of any private interpretation, pro- \nceeds to assign the reason of that assertion, or rather, \nas I think, goes into a further and fuller explanation of \nwhat he had said : \" For the prophecy came not in old \ntime by the will of man, (that is, it was not of human \ninvention, it did not express the conjectures of men.) \nbut holy men of God spake as they were moved by \nthe Holy Ghost.\" Now I would ask if this reason \n2 \n\n\n\n14 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nconfirms the Catholic view of the passage ? Is the \nfact that the Bible was written by men inspired of God \nto write it, any reason why it should not be of private \ninterpretation? Does the circumstance that God gave \nthem the thoughts, and even suggested to them the \nwords in which they should clothe them, render the \nproduction so unintelligible, or so equivocal in its \nmeaning, that a private individual cannot be trusted \nto read it ? That would be to say that God cannot \nmake himself understood as easily as men can ! The \nCatholic argument from this passage may be stated \nthus : the Bible is an inspired book, therefore too ob- \nscure and ambiguous to be of private interpretation ! \nInspired, therefore unintelligible ! \n\nIf it be so hard to understand what God says, how \nwas the divine Savior able to make himself understood \nby the common people who heard him gladly ? I sus- \npect they knew what he meant when he said, \" Come \nunto me, and I will give you rest.\" The sermon on \nthe mount seems to have been understood by those \nwho heard it. No one thought of asking how others \nunderstood it. No one felt the necessity of an inter- \npreter : every one exercised his private judgment on \nwhat Christ said. Now, suppose that what Jesus said \nto the people, and they found no difficulty in under- \nstanding it, had been taken down in writing at the \ntime, would not they who understood it when they \nheard it, have equally understood it when they read \nit? The spoken discourses of Christ were intelligi- \nble : have they become unmtelligible by being written? \n\nTo return for a moment to the passage in Peter. I \nconsider that the word rendered in verse 20, interpre- \ntation^ should be translated as Dr. M'Knight trans- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 15 \n\nlates it, invention ; or, as another renders it, impulse: \nand verse 21 should be considered as explanatory of \nthat which precedes it. If the apostle really intended \nto deny the right of private judgment, why does he in \nverse 19 exhort all the saints, to whom he wrote, to \ntake heed to \" the more sure word of prophecy,\" the \nvery thing in reference to which he is supposed to deny \nthe right of private judgment? Why should they take \nheed to it, if it is not of private interpretation ? and \nwhy does he speak of it as \" a light that shineth in a \ndark place ?\" \n\nFinally : If no part of Scripture is of private inter- \npretation, then of course the passage of Scripture, 2 \nPet. ] : 20, is not of private interpretation ; and yet \nthe Catholic exercises his private judgment upon it, \nand submits it to the private judgment of the Protes- \ntant, in the hope thereby of making him a Catholic ! \nNo part of Scripture, according to him, may be pri- \nvately interpreted, but that which affirms that no part, \nnot even itself^ may be privately interpreted ! \n\n\n\n4. Popery Unscriptural. \n\nI undertake to prove that the Roman Catholic reli- \ngion is unscriptural — that it is not borne out by the \nBible. If I can do that, I shall be satisfied ; for a reli- \ngion, professing to be Christianity, which does not \nagree with the statements of MattheAv, Mark, Luke, \nJohn, Paul, Peter, James and Jude, will, I am per- \n\n\n\n16 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsuadedj never go down in the United States of Ame- \nrica. It may do for Spain, Portugal and Italy ; but it \nwill not do here. There is too much respect for the \nBible in this republican land to admit of such a thing. \nRepublicans know too well how much liberty owes to \nthe Bible. They know that tyranny cannot exist where \nthe Bible, God's magna charta to mankind, is in the \nhands of the people. Besides, the people of this coun- \ntry have too much good common sense to take that \nfor Christianity about which the evangelists and the \napostles knew nothing. I think, therefore, that I shall \nhave gained the point, if I show that Romanism and \nthe Bible are at odds. This, if I mistake not, I can \neasily do. \n\nThe Roman Catholics act very much as if they them- \nselves did not regard their religion as being scriptural. \nWhy, if they believe that their religion is the religion \nof the Bible, do they not put the Bible into the hands \nof the people, and advise them to read it, that they \nmay become, or continue to be good Roman Catholics ? \nWhy not circulate far and wide the book which con- \ntains their religion ? They need not take our transla- \ntion of it. They have one of their own — the Douay. \nLet them circulate that. Why do they leave the whole \nbusiness of distributing the Scriptures to the Protes- \ntants ? Above all, why do they oppose the operations \nof Bible Societies, when they are only multiplying \nand diffusing copies of the book which contains the \nRoman Catholic religion ? \n\nI am particularly surprised that the Roman Catholics \nare not more anxious to put into general circulation the \ntwo epistles of their St. Peter, who they assert was \nthe first Bishop of Rome, and earliest Pope. They ac- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY 17 \n\nknowledge that he wrote two epistles, and that they \nare extant. Why, in the name of common sense, do \nthey not let every Catholic have them ! I do not won- \nder that ihey wish to keep out of sight of the people \nthe epistles of Paul, Avho says, Gal. 2 : 11, that he \nwithstood Peter to the face, \" because he was to be \nblamed.\" Paul forgot at the moment that Peter was \nsupreme and infallible ! We are all liable to forget. \nBut why the rulers of the church should be unwilling \nto let the people hear Peter, is the wonder with me. I \nhave been reading his epistles, to see if I can discover \nwhy the Catholics are not friendly to their circulation. \nPerhaps it is because in them he says nothing about \nRome, unless by Babylon^ 1 Ep. 5 : 13, he means \nRome, as John does in the Revelation; and never a \nword about his being Bishop of Rome, or Pope ! The \nman seems to have no idea that he was a pope. He \nsays in his 1st Epistle, 5:1, \" The elders which are \namong you I exhort, who am also an elder.'''' An el- \nder ! vv'-as that all ? Why, Peter, do you forget your- \nself? Do you not know that you are universal Bishop, \nPrimate of the Apostolical College, Suprerae and \nInfallible Head of the Church? He seems never to \nhave known one word about it. Now I think I have \nhit upon one reason Avhy it is thought best that the \npeople in general should not be familiar with the wri- \ntings of Peter. \n\nI wish, for my part, that the Catholics would print \nan edition of Peter's Epistles, and give them general \ncirculation among their members ; for if the religion \nof these epistles is their religion, I have no further \ncontroversy with them. \n\n2* \n\n\n\n18 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n5. Tlie Kvil of Believing Too Much. \n\nIt is a common saying among the Catholics, that it \nis Detter to believe too much than to believe too little ; \nand it is one of the arguments with w^hich they endea- \nvor to make proselytes, that they believe all that Pro- \ntestants believe, besides a good deal that Protestants \ndo not believe. Hence they would have it inferred that \ntheir religion possesses all the advantages which be- \nlong to Protestantism, and some more into the bargain ; \nso that if the religion of the Reformation is safe, much \nmore is that of the church of Rome safe. Now, as I \nam certain that this way of talking {reasoning it is \nnot worthy to be called) has some influence in making \nCatholics, I shall take the liberty of examining it. \n\nWhy is it better to believe too much than to believe \ntoo little ? Excess in other things is not better than \ndefect. To eat or drink too much is not better than to \neat or drink too little. To believe that two and two \nmake five, is as bad as to believe that two and two \nmake three. One of these errors will derange a man's \ncalculations as much as the other. The man who be- \nlieves that two and two make five, has no advantage \nbecause he believes the whole truth and a little more. \n\nA certain writer, who ought to be in high authority \nat Rome as well as every where else, represents addi- \ntions to the truth to be as injurious and as offensive to \nGod as subtraction from it. Rev. 22 : 18, 19. \" If any \nman shall add unto these things, God shall add unto \nhim the plagues that are written in this book.\" Here \nyou see what a man gets by believing too much. It is \nnot altogether so safe a thing as the Catholics repre- \n\n\n\nTHODGHTS ON POPERY. 19 \n\nsent it to be. Adding is as bad as taking away. For \nevery article added there is a plague added. \n\nI suppose that one reason why these additions to the \ntruth are so offensive to God is, that they are such ad- \nditions as take from that to which they are added ; just \nas when a man puts \" a piece of new cloth into an old \ngarment, that which is put in to fill it up taketh from \nthe garment, and the rent is made worse.\" Mat. 9 : 16. \nAll the additions of the church of Rome to Christiani- \nty take away from some of its doctrines. She first cuts \na hole in the robe of Christ and then applies her patch ! \nIn order to make room for her doctrine of human me- \nrit, she has to take away just so much from the merit \nof Christ. The Protestant doctrine is, that we are justi- \nfied by faith alone, without the deeds of the law. Nay, \nsays the Catholic, our own good works have some- \nthing to do in the matter of our justification. Now, this \naddition does not leave entire that to which it is added, \nbut takes from it ! \n\nWe hold to the perfection of the one sacrifice offered \nby Christ on the cross. The Catholics add to this the \nsacrifice of the mass. They are not satisfied with \nChrist's being \" once ofiered to bear the sins of many,\" \nbut they teach the strange doctrine that Christ is of- \nfered as often as a priest is pleased to say mass ! \n\nNothing is farther from the truth than that the Ca- \ntholic believes all which the Protestant believes, be- \nsides a great deal that the Protestant does not believe. \nThe latter part of the assertion is correct. The Ca- \ntholics believe a great deal which the Protestants do \nnot. In the quantity of their faith they far surpass us. \nThere is the whole that is comprehended in tradition. \nThey believe every word of it — while Protestants are \n\n\n\n20 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsatisfied with Holy Scripture. But the Catholics do \nnot believe all that Protestants believe ; they do not \nbelieve the Protestant doctrine of regeneration, or jus- \ntification, or other cardinal doctrines. \n\nBut, asks one, is not all that Protestants believe \ncontained in the Scriptures ! Yes. Well, Catholics \nbelieve the Scriptures. Therefore they believe all \nwhich Protestants do ; and then, moreover, they be- \nlieve tradition ; so that they believe all which Protes- \ntants believe, and some more besides. Very logical, to \nbe sure ! But suppose that tradition and Scripture hap- \npen to contradict each other, how then? What sort of \nan addition to a testimony is a contradiction of it? I \nmight give some precious specimens of these contra- \ndictions. The Catholic believes with Scripture, that \n\"marriage is honorable in all;\" and he believes with \ntradition, that it is very disgraceful in some. One of \nhis rules of faith affirms that \" all our righteousnesses \nare as filthy rags,\" but the other assures him that there \nis merit in his good works. One says that Peter was \nto he blamed, but the other asserts his infallibility. \nAccording to one, Peter was a simple elder ; but ac- \ncording to the other, universal bishop, &c. The Catho- \nlic says he believes both, and therefore he is in a safer \nstate than the Protestant. Well, when 1 can be con- \nvinced that two contradictory assertions are both true, \nI may believe as much as the Catholic believes. Mean- \nwhile I am satisfied with believing enough ; and not \ncaring to be more than perfectly safe, I shall continue \nto be a Protestant. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 21 \n\n\n\n6. The Nino Commandments. \n\n^^Nine commandments ! What does that mean ? I \nalways thought the commandments were teny There \nused to be that number. There were ten proclaimed \nby the voice of God from Mount Sinai ; and ten were \nwritten by the finger of God on the tables of stone, \nand when the tables were renewed, there were still \nten: and the Jews, the keepers of the Old Testament \nScriptures, always recognized ten ; and so did the pri- \nmitive church, and so do all Protestants in their creeds \nand catechisms. But the Roman Catholics, (you know \nthey can take liberties, for they are the true church, \nthey are infallible. A person, and so a church, which \ncannot possibly make a mistake, need not be very par- \nticular about what it does,) these Christians who have \ntheir head away off at Rome, subtract one from the \nten commandments ; and you know if you take one \nfrom ten, only nine remain. So they have but nine \ncommandments. Theirs is not a Decalogue, but a \nNonalogue. \n\nIt is just so. When, many years ago, I first heard \nof it, I thought it was a slander of the Protestants. \nI said, \" O, it cannot be that they have dared to med- \ndle with God's ten commandments, and leave out one. \nThey cannot have been guilty of such impiety. Why, \nit is just as if some impious Israelite had gone into \nthe holy of holies, opened the ark of the covenant, and \ntaking out the tables of stone, had, with some instru- \nment of iron, obliterated one of the commands which \nthe divine finger wrote on them.\" But then it struck \nme how improbable it was that such a story should \n\n\n\n22 THOUGHTS ON 'POPERY. \n\never have gained currency, unless there was some \nfoundation for it. Who would ever have thought of \ncharging Roman Catholics with suppressing one of \nthe commandments, unless they had done it, or some- \nthing like it ? \n\nSo I thought I would inquire whether it was so or \nnot; and I did, and found it to be a fact, and no slan- \nder. I saw with my own eyes the catechisms published \nunder the sanction of bishops and archbishops, in \nwhich one of the commandments was omitted ; and \nthe reader may see the same thing in \" The Manual \nof Catholic Piety,\" printed no farther off than in Phi- \nladelphia. The list of the commandments runs thus: \n\n1. I am the Lord thy God ; thou shalt not have \nstrange Gods before me. \n\n2. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy \nGod in vain, \n\n3. Remember the Sabbath day, &c. \n\nThe reader w411 see that the commandment which \nthe Catholics leave out, as being grievous to them, is \nthe second in the series. It is the one that forbids \nmaking graven images and likenesses of any thing for \nworship. That is the one they don't like ; and they \ndon't like it, because they do like pictures and images \nin their churches. They say these things wonderfully \ntend to promote devotion, and so they do away that \ncommandment of God ! David says, \" I esteem all \nthy precepts concerning all things to be right.\" But \nhe was no Catholic. \n\nWell, having got rid of the second, they call the \nthird second, and our fourth they number third, and \nso on till they come to our tenth, which, according to \ntheir numbering, is the ninth. But as they don't like \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 23 \n\nthe sound of \" the nine commandments,\" since the \nBible speaks of \" the ten commandments,\" Exod. 34 : \n28 ; Deut. 4 : 13, and every body has got used to the \nnumber ten, they must contrive to make out ten some \nhow or other. And how do you think they do it ? \nWhy, they halve their ninth, and call the first part \nninth, and the other tenth. \n\nSo they make out ten. In the Philadelphia Manual, \ncorrected and approved by the Right Rev. Bishop \nKenrick, it is put down thus : \" 9th. Thou shalt not \ncovet thy neighbor's wife. 10th. Thou shalt not covet \nthy neighbor's goods.\" You see they make two of the \ncommandments to relate to coveting. It is not very \nprobable the Lord did so. I reckon they were not so \nnumbered on the tables of stone. But you see it would \nnever do to let that second commandment stand, and \nit would never do to have less than ten : so they were \nlaid under a sort of necessity to do as they have done. \nBut, after all, it is a bad job. It is not near so inge- \nnious as many of the devices of Popery. After all is \nsaid and done, they have but nine commandments ; for \nevery body knows that by dividing any thing you get \nnot two wholes, but two halves : there is but one \nwhole after the division. And so the ninth command- \nment is but one commandment after they have divided \nit. If they were to quarter it they could not make \n«any more of it. If the Catholics are bent on dividing \nthe last of the commandments, they should call the \nfirst half, 8i, and the second half, 9th. That is what \nthey ought to do. That would be acting honestly, \nfor they know they have left out one of the Lord's \nten. They know that the Lord gave ten command- \nments, and they acknowledge only nine of them. It \n\n\n\n24 THODGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nis a mean device to divide one of the nine, and then \nsay they acknowledge ten. The Catholics know that \nthe commandments, as they are in many of their cate- \nchisms, are not as they were written with the finger of \nGod on the tables of stone. They know that one is \nwanting, and why it is they know. They had better \ntake care how they do such things, for the Lord is a \njealous God. \n\nIndeed the Catholics are sorry for what they have \ndone in this matter. It has turned out a bad specula- \ntion. This reduction of the law of God one-tenth, \nhas led to the opening of many eyes. They would \nnever do the like' again. And as a proof of their re- \npentance, they have restored the second command- \nment in many cases : they can show you a great many \ncatechisms and books in which it is found. I had sup- \nposed that the omission existed now only in the cate- \nchisms published and used in Ireland, until I heard of \nthe Philadelphia Manual. They had better repent \nthoroughly, and restore the commandment in all their \npublications. And I think it would not be amiss for \nthem to confess that for once they have been fallible ; \nthat in the matter of mutilating the Decalogue, they \ncould, and did err. If they will afford us that evidence \nof repentance, we will forgive them, and Ave will say \nno more about it. We know it is a sore subject with \nthem ; they don't know how to get along with it. When \none asks them, \" How came you to leave out the second \ncommandment ?\" if they say, \" Why, we have not left \nit out of all our books.\" The other replies, \"But why \ndid you leave it out of any ?\" and there the conversa- \ntion ends. Echo is the only respondent, and she but \nrepeats the question, \" Why ?\" \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 25 \n\n\n\n7. Catholic Hostility to the Bible. \n\nI am not surprised that the Roman Catholics dislike \nthe Bible, for very much the same reason that Ahab, \nking of Israel, disliked Micaiah, the prophet of the \nLord. 1 Kings, 22 : 8. It is hard not to contract a \nstrong dislike to that which is for ever bearing testi- \nmony against one. To love an enemy is one of the \nmost difficult attainments. Now, the Bible is all the \ntime speaking against the Catholic religion, and pro- \nphesying not good, but evil of it, just as Micaiah did of \nAhab. It is natural, therefore, that the Catholic should \nfeel an aversion to the Bible. We ought not to expect \nany thing else. But I am somewhat surprised that \nthey do not take more pains to conceal their dislike of \nit, for it certainly does not look well that the church \nof God should fall out with the oracles of God. It has \nan ugly appearance, to say the least, to see the Chris- \ntian church come out against the Christian Scriptures. \n\nI wondered much, when, a few years ago, the Pope \nissued his encyclical letter, forbidding the use of the \nBible in the vulgar tongue. It certainly looks bad that \nChrist should say, \" Search the Scriptures ;\" and that \nthe vicar of Christ should say, \" No, you shall not even \nhave them.\" It has very much the appearance of con- \ntradicting Christ: but appearances may deceive in this \ncase, as in transubstantiation. But I must do the Pope \njustice. He does not unconditionally forbid the use of \nthe Bible, but only the use of it in the vulgar tongue. \nThe Pope has no objection that a person should have \nthe Bible, provided he has it in a language which he \ndoes not understand. The English Catholic may have \n\n3 \n\n\n\n26 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\na French Bible, and the devout Frenchman may make \nuse of an English or Dutch Bible ; or both may have \na Latin Bible, provided they have not studied Latin. \nAn acquaintance with the Latin makes it as vulgar a \ntongue as any other. I have thought it due to the Pope \nto say thus much in his favor. Far be it from him to \nforbid the use of the Bible, except in the vulgar tongue ! \nAnother more recent fact has surprised me not a \nlittle — that a student of Maynooth College, Ireland, \nnamed O'Beirne, should have been expelled that insti- \ntution for persisting in reading the Bible ! Expulsion \nis a pretty serious thing. That must be esteemed a \nheinous crime which is supposed to justify so severe \na penalty. I cannot see any thing so criminal in read- \ning the Scriptures. I wonder if the reading of any \nother book is forbidden at Maynooth: I suspect not. \nThe authorities at Maynooth must think the Bible the \nworst book in the world. A student of that college \nmay read whatever is most offensive to purity and \npiety in the ancient classics, without any danger of \nexpulsion ; but if he reads the Bible he is dismissed \nwith dishonor! But I suppose they will say, he was \nnot expelled for reading the Scriptures, but for con- \ntempt of authority, in that, after being forbidden to \nread the Scriptures, he still persisted in reading them. \nThat makes a difference I must confess: still the \nyoung man's case was a hard one. Christ told him \nnot only to read, but to search the Scriptures : the au- \nthorities of the college told him he must not. His sin \nconsisted in obeying Christ rather than the govern- \nment of the college. I think it might have been set \ndown as venial. They might have overlooked the fault \nof preferring Christ's authority to theirs. \" When the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 27 \n\nSon of man shall come in his glory,\" I don't believe \nhe will expel the young man for what he did, though \nthe college bade him \" depart.\" \n\nI wonder, and have always wondered, that the Ca- \ntholics, in prohibiting the Scriptures, do not except St. \nPeter's Epistles. Was ever any Catholic forbidden to \nread the letters of a Pope ? I believe not. But if good \nCatholics may, and should read the \" Encyclical Let- \nters \" of the Popes, why not let them read the \" Gene- \nral Epistles \" of the first of Popes, Peter ? Why is it \nany more criminal to read the letters of Pope Peter, \nthan those of Pope Gregory 1 I cannot explain this. \n\nHere is another fact that has surprised me. A recent \nGalway newspaper denounces, by name, two Protest- \nant clergymen as reptiles^ and advises that they should \nbe at once trampled on. What for ? Why, for the sin \nof holding a Bible meeting, and distributing the Scrip- \ntures ! It speaks of them as a hell-inspired junto of \nincarnate fiends, and says, \" If the devil himself came \nupon earth, he would assume no other garb than that \nof one of these biblicals.\" The Irish editor adds, \" The \nbiblical junto must be put down in Galway.\" He is \nevidently in a passion with the Bible : I suppose it \nmust be because it prophecies no good of him. Cer- \ntainly he cannot think the Bible very favorable to his \nreligion, otherwise he would not proclaim such a cru- \nsade against its distribution. It is the first time I ever \nheard it asserted, that the managers and members of \nBible Societies are ipso facto incarnate fiends. It \nseems singular, that those who promote the circulation \nof a heaven-inspired volume, should be themselves, \nas a matter of course, hell-inspired. I cannot think \nthat Exeter Hall and Chatham-street Chapel become \n\n\n\n28 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nPandemoniums whenever the Bible Society meets in \nthem. Nor shall I believe that Satan is going to turn \nBible distributer, until I actually see him \" walking \nabout \" on this agency. \n\nI do not know how it is, but I cannot help looking \non the circulation of the Scriptures as a benevolent \nbusiness — the gratuitous giving of the word of God \nto the children of men as a good work. When re- \ncently I read an article stating that the Young Men's \nNew-York Bible Society had undertaken to supply the \nemigrants arriving at that port with the Bible in their \nrespective languages, I almost instinctively pronounc- \ned it a good work ; and I was astonished, as well as \ngrieved, to find that some of the emigrants refused to \nreceive the volume. I suppose that if the agent had \noffered them a volume of the Spectator, or a novel, \nthey would have taken that. Any book of man they \ncould have thankfully received ; but the book of God \nthey had been instructed to refuse, should that be of- \nfered them ! The agent reports the following fact : \n\" June 17, visited on their landing a large number of \nemigrants from Ireland, not one of whom could be \nprevailed on to receive a Bible, even as a gift. One of \nthe females told me, if I would give her one she \nwould take it with her and burn it.\" Who, do you sup- \npose, put them up to refuse the Bible ? And who put \nit into the head of the woman to speak of burning the \nBible ? I think any person, in whatever part of the \ncountry born, could guess. I guess it Avas not any \ninfidel — I guess it was a priest. \n\nBut perhaps the reason they refused the Bibles of- \nfered them, was, that they had other and better Bibles. \nThat is not pretended. They had none. Now, it seems \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 29 \n\nto me they might have accepted our Bibles until they \ncould procure their own better Bibles. An imperfectly \ntranslated Bible is better than none : no translation of \nthe Bible was ever so bad as to be worse than no Bi- \nble. What if the Douay is before all other Bibles, \nyet king James' may answer one's turn until he can \nget the Douay. The Catholics complain that we give \ntheir people an erroneously translated Bible : why, \nthen, do they not supply them with a correct transla- \ntion ? When they undertake that, we will cease to \ntrouble them. We would be very glad to see every \nCatholic family possessing, and capable of reading, \nthe Douay Bible, although it does make repentance to- \nwards God to consist in doing penance appointed by \nmen. But that they have no idea of doing. Does not \nthe Pope forbid the use of the Bible in the vulgar \ntongue ! I know many Catholics have it, but it is no \npart of their religion to have a Bible. They get their \nChristianity without the trouble of searching the \nScriptures. Indeed they would in vain search in the \nScriptures for what they call Christianity. If they \nwere not perfectly conscious that their religion is not \nto be found in the Bible, do you suppose they would \ndenounce and persecute that book as they do ? Would \nthey direct their inquiries to fathers, and councils, and \npriests for information, rather than to prophets, evan- \ngelists, and apostles? \n\n\n\n30 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n8. Soiuetliins^ for the Revi Mr. H. \n\nMr. H. the Goliath of the Catholics, seems to be \nvery fond of asking questions which he thinks no- \nbody can answer. I am not acquainted with any wri- \nter who makes more frequent use of the interrogation \npoint. But his questions are not quite so unanswera- \nble as he supposes. I will just answer two of the string \nof questions with which he commences a recent letter \nto Mr. B. and then I beg leave to ask a few. \n\nHe wants to know Jirst, what the Protestant reli- \ngion is. He has been often told, but I will tell him \nagain. It is the religion of the Bible. It was not \ncalled Protestant when the Bible was written, for \nthen there was no corruption of Christianity to pro- \ntest against. But it is the same, however called. \nThere it is, i7i the Bible. Read it. Read any part \nof it. You cannot go amiss to find the religion of the \nReformation in the Bible. Read particularly the \nepistle to the Romans, to whom Catholics pretend to \nrefer their origin ; or the epistle to the Ephesians. I \nwonder if a passage from either of these prominent \nepistles was ever quoted by any one in proof of any \npeculiarity of the Roman Catholic church ! I suspect \nnever. Protestants, however, make great use of them. \n\nBut, says the interrogator, \" tell us what particular \ndoctrines constitute the Protestant religion. Telling \nus it is the religion of the Bible, is telling us where it \nis, but not what it is.\" And is it not enough to tell \nyou where you may find a thing? Have you no eyes? \nHave you no mind ? Do you want one to think for \nyou ? Is not that all which Jesus Christ did ? He gave \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 31 \n\nthe Scriptures to the Jews, and said, \" search them.\" \nSo we put the Bible into your hand, and say, there is \nour religion. And yet you ask, \" Where was your re- \nligion before Luther ?\" Before Luther ! we tell you \nwhere it was before the earliest fathers. It was in \nthe Gospels and Epistles, where it is now, and ever \nwill be. What have we to do with Luther or Augus- \ntine, or any of them, until we get as far back into an- \ntiquity as St. John? \n\nBut Mr. H. asks again, \" What society of Chris- \ntians ever taught this pretended religion of Christ pre- \nvious to the Reformation ?\" Why, Mr. H. do not affect \nsuch ignorance — you must be joking^ when you ask \nsuch a question. Did you never hear of a society of \nChristians residing at Rome, some of whom were of \nCaesar's household, to whom one Paul wrote a letter, \nwhich has come down to us? Now, if it cannot be as- \ncertained what that society of Christians \" taught,\" \nyet it can easily be ascertained what was taught \nthem. It is only to read the letter. And I think it \nnot improbable that that society of Christians profess- \ned and taught what St. Paul taught them. \n\nBut there was another respectable society of Chris- \ntians, a good while \" previous to the Reformation,\" \nwho seem to have known something about this \" pre- \ntended religion of Christ,\" called Protestant. They \ndwelt in a city named Ephesus. That same Paul \nresided among them three years, preaching the Gos- \npel, and he did it faithfully. He \" shunned not to \ndeclare all the counsel of God.\" After establishing \na flourishing church there, he went away, and subse- \nquently addressed an epistle to them, which also has \ncome down to us. In this epistle it is to be presumed \n\n\n\n32 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthat he embodied the substance of the Gospel, which \nhe had taught them \"publicly and from house to \nhouse.\" He is not to be suspected of preaching one \nthing and writing another. Will Mr. H. deny that \nthe society of Christians at Ephesus professed and \ntaught the doctrines of the epistle to the Ephesians ? \nI think not. Well, sir, what are the doctrines of that \nepistle ? Are they yours or ours — Catholic or Protes- \ntant ? I will leave it to any intelligent infidel on earth \nto decide. Will Mr. H. agree to the reference ? O \nno, he wants us to leave it to a pope, and general coun- \ncil, and the zmanimous fathers. \n\nI have told Mr. H. now of two societies of Chris- \ntians who \" taught this pretended religion of Christ \nprevious to the Reformation.\" I could tell of more ; \nbut two are enough. He only asked for one. \n\nNow I would ask Mr. H. a question. Where was \nyour religion, Mr. H. at the time the Bible was writ- \nten ? I am curious to know. How came the evange- \nlists and apostles to know nothing about it, if it is \nreally the religion of Christ ? Perhaps Mr. H. can \nclear up this difficulty. I wish he would, if he can. \nI do not want him to say where his religion was after \nthe Bible was written, and after all the evangelists \nand apostles were dead. I am informed on that point. \nI want to know where the Roman Catholic religion \nwas before those good men died ; where it was before \nthe fathers. \n\nThey talk about the antiquity of the Roman Ca- \ntholic religion. It is old, I must confess. It bears \nmany marks of age upon it. But the difficulty is, it \nis not old enough by a century or two at least. They \nsay it is the frst form of Christianity. That is a \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 33 \n\nmistake. It is the second. The first appeared for a \nwhile, then \" fled into the wilderness, where she had \na place prepared of God,\" and re-appeared at the Re- \nformation. They call it a new religion. But no, it \nis the old restored. If any one doubts the identity of \nthe restored religion, let him but compare its features \nwith that which appeared and flourished in the apos- \ntolic age. \n\nAnother question I beg leave to ask Mr. H. \" Did \nthe first Christians of Rome hold the doctrines con- \ntained in the epistle to the Romans, or did they not?\" \nIf they did not, they must have departed from the faith \nsooner than Paul predicted that they would. If they \ndid hold the doctrines of the epistle, then, since these \nare the very doctrines which the friends of the Refor- \nmation contend for, have we not here the example of \na society holding the doctrines of the Reformation \nlong before the actual era of the Reformation ? I have \nother questions to ask, but I wait for these to be an- \nswered. \n\n\n\n9. The Distinction of Sins into Mortal and Venial. \n\nMr. Editor^ — I was not aware, until recently, that \nRoman Catholics of this age, and in this country, make \nthat practical use which I find they do of the distinc- \ntion of sins into mortal and venial. For the truth of \nthe following narrative I can vouch. An intelligent \ngentleman being, a few weeks since, expostulated \nwith by a Protestant lady, on his spending the whole \nof a certain Sabbath in playing cards, replied with \n\n\n\no4 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe Utmost readiness, and with every appearance of \nconfidence in the validity of his apology, \" O, that is \nnot a mortal sin.\" Several similar examples of a \nresort to this distinction were reported to me. Now, \ncan that system be the religion of Jesus Christ, which \nrecognizes this horrible distinction, and puts such a \nplea as this into the mouth of a transgressor of one ot \nthe commandments of that Decalogue which God's \nown voice articulated and his own finger wrote? I \ncannot express the feelings I have, when I think of \nthe multitudes who are forming a character for eterni- \nty under the influence of doctrines like these. What \nsort of a character must they form ! \n\nHow completely at variance with the Scriptures is \nthis distinction ! \" Cursed is every one that continu- \neth not in all things which are written in the book of \nthe law to do them — the wages of sin is death — the \nsoul that sinneth, it shall die.\" Gal. 3 : 10 ; Rom. 6 : \n23 ; Ezek. 18 : 4. Is not all sin disobedience to God ? \nand may he be disobeyed in any respect without guilt ? \nDid ever a father of a family recognize such a distinc- \ntion in the government of his children ? Did Christ \natone for what are called venial sins, or did he not ? \nIf he did not, then he did not atone for all sin. If he \ndid atone for them, they must be worthy of death, since \nhe died for them. \n\nThe truth is, all sin is mortal, if not repented of; \nand all sin is venial, that is, pardonable, if repented of. \nThere is no sin which the blood of Christ cannot cleanse \nfrom. And nothing but that can take out any sin. \n\nIt is not worth while to reason against such a dis- \ntinction. I only mention it as one of the absurd and \npernicious errors of the system to which it belongs. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY, ^ \n\n\n\n10. Tlie Deadly Sins. \n\nIn \" the Christian's Guide to Heaven \" I read with \nsome interest an enumeration of what the Catholics \nare pleased to call \" the seven deadly sins.\" Why \nthis distinction, thought I ? Are there only seven sins ? \nOr are only some sins deadly ; and is the number of \nsins that kill ascertained by the infallible church to be \njust seven and no more, all other sins being venial, \nnot mortal, according to another distinction which that \nchurch presumes to make ? \n\nThey cannot mean that there are only seven sins, \nfor heresy is not in this list of sins, and that I am sure \nthey esteem a sin ; neither is there any mention of \nfalsehood and deceptio7i, which we Protestants regard \nas sins, even though their object should be pious. Be- \nsides, David says that his iniquities were more than \nthe hairs of his head — consequently many more than \nseven. And who is any better off than David in this \nrespect? Moreover, even the Catholics admit nine \ncommandments. They do not leave out any but the \nsecond. They must therefore admit the possibility of \nat least nine sins. \n\nThey must mean that there are only seven sins \nwhich are mortal to the soul. But if this be the case, \nwhy is It said, \" Cursed is every one that continueth \nnot in all things written in the book of the law to do \nthem?\" It is admitted that there are more than seven \nthings written in the book of the law. Again, why is \nit said that the wage-s of sin is death? This would \nseem to imply that death is due to every sin, of what- \never kind. If there are only seven deadly sins, why \n\n\n\n36 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndoes not the apostle say, \" The wages of these seven \nsins (enumerating them) is death?\" But he does not \nsay that. He regarded all sins as deadly — every one \nof the multitude as mortal in its consequences. \n\nIf there are only seven sins which are deadly, then \nI suppose we can answer for all the rest ; but Job says \nhe cannot answer him one of a thousand. According \nto Job, then, who is a very ancient authority, there are \nat least a thousand sins for which we cannot answer. \n\nBut let us hear what the seven are. They are Pride^ \nCovetousness, Luxury or Lust, Anger, Gluttony, En- \nvy, Sloth. Well, these are, to be sure, sins, all but one \nof them, anger, which is not necessarily a sin any \nmore than grief is. We are directed to \" be angry and \nsin not.\" I wonder they should have put anger with- \nout any qualification among the seven deadly sins. It \nmust be because they are not familiar with the Scrip- \ntures. But granting them all to be sins, then certainly \nthey are deadly, since all sin is deadly. We could not \ntherefore object, if it had been said, in reference to \nthem, \" seven deadly sins.\" But \" the seven deadly \nsins \" seems to imply that there are no more. We read \nin the book of Proverbs of six things which the Lord \ndoth hate ; yea, of seven that are an abomination to \nhim. But there is no implication there, that those are \nthe only things which the Lord hates. It is not said, \n\" the seven things which the Lord doth hate.\" The \nlanguage which I animadvert upon implies that the \nseven sins enumerated are, if not exclusively, yet pe- \nculiarly deadly. Now that is not the case. There is \nnothing in those sins to entitle them to this distinction \nabove other sins. There is no reason why we should \nbe warned to avoid them more than many others. \n\n\n\nThoughts on I'oPery. 37 \n\n1 am surprised that in the list of .deadly sins there \nis no mention of unbelief. Now surely that must be \na deadly sin, when \"he that believeth not shall be \ndamned — shall not see life, but the wrath of God \nabideth on him.'^ Moreover, we are told that the Holy \nGhost came primarily to reprove the world of unbe- \nlief-^and yet there is no recognition of it among the \ndeadly sins ! It is an oversight, which no wonder ihey \nfell into, who, in making out their religion, made no \nuse of the word of God. \n\nI perceive that neither heresy nor schism are in the \nlist of deadly sins. I infer, then, that to differ from the \nRoman church in some particulars, and even to sepa- \nrate from her communion, is not fatal, even she her- \nself being judge. I thank her for the admission. \n\nThere is one sin which, in all their catalogues, the \nCatholics omit, and which, I think, they need to be re- \nminded of. It is the sin of idolatry — ^^of worshiping \nthe creature — of paying divine honors to something \nelse besides God. It used to be very deadly, under the \nJewish dispensation. It doubtless is equally so under \nthe Christian. They had better beware of it. They \nliad better leave off praying to saints, and honoring the \nVirgin Mary above her Son, lest perchance they fall \nmto deadly sin. \n\n\n\n11. A Religion ivithoiit a ttoly S^pirit. \n\nA gentleman of intelligence, who was born of Ca- \ntholic parents, and educated ia the Catholic church, \n\n4 \n\n\n\n39 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nbut left it recently for Protestantism (for some dd \nleave the Catholic for the Protestant church — the \nconversions are not all to Romanism — but we, Pro- \ntestants, don't make such a noise about it when we \nreceive a convert ; and I suppose the reason is, that it \nis really no wonder that a Catholic should become a \nProtestant — the only wonder is, that any should re- \nmain Catholics) — this gentleman said to his brother, \nwho is still a Catholic, \" Why, brother, as long as I \nwas a Catholic, I never knew that there was a Holy \nSpirit.\" \n\nAnd what do you think was the brother's reply 1 \n\" Well, I don't know that there is one now I\" \n\nThe narration of what passed between these two \nmen struck me with great force. A religion without \na Holy Spirit ! and this the religion, according to the \ncomputation of Bishop England, of two hundred mil- \nlions of mankind ! It made me sorry. My religion, \nthought I, would be very imperfect without a Holy \nSpirit. I want a Sanctifier, as well as a Surety. I \nwant one to act internally upon me, as well as one to \nact externally for me. What should I do with ray \ntitle to heaven, without a fitness for it? As a sinner, \nI am equally destitute of both. There can be no hea- \nven without holiness. And whence has any man ho- \nliness but from the Holy Spirit ? And is it likely he \nwill act where he is not acknowledged ? If priests \ncan pardon^ as they say, yet can they purify 7 \n\nHere were two men, educated in the Catholic reli- \ngion, and attending weekly the Catholic church, and \nyet never having heard of the Holy Spirit ! They had \nheard often enough of the Virgin Mary, and of this \nsaint, and that saint, but never a w^ord of the Holy \n\n\n\nTHOltGHTS ON POPERY. 39 \n\nSpirit, the Divine Sanctifier! But was it not their \nown fault? Is not the doctrine of the Trinity apart \nof the Catholic faith ? It is — but that may be, and yet \nthe priests never instruct the people in the character \nand office of the Holy Spirit, and in the necessity of \nhis operations. \n\nBut had these men never been present at a baptism, \nwhen water, according to Christ's direction, with oil, \nspittle, &c. as the church directs, is applied to the \nbody, and the name of each person of the Trinity is \nmentioned ? Yes, but, poor men, they had never stu- \ndied Latin. How should they know what Spiritus \nSanctus means, when they hear it ? Why should all \nthe world be presumed to understand Latin? Oh, \nwhy should the worship of the living God be con- \nducted in a dead language ? But this is by the way. \n\nThese men knew not that there was a Holy Spi- \nrit — why did they not know it ? I will tell you. Be- \ncause so little is said of the Holy Spirit among the \nCatholics — there is so little need of any such agent, \naccording to their system ! They do not believe in the \nnecessity of a change of heart. Why should there be \na Holy Spirit? The priest does not want any such \nhelp to prepare a soul for heaven. The Catholic sys- \ntem is complete without a Holy Spirit. Therefore \nnothing is said of him in the pulpit, and in the con- \nfession-box ; and the sinner is not directed to seek his \ninfluences, or to rely on his aid. If I misrepresent, let \nit be shown, and I will retract. But if I am correct in \nthe statement I make, look at it. Protestant, look at \n\nit a religion without a Holy Spirit ! Catholic, look \n\nat it, and obey the voice from heaven which says. \n\"Come out of her my people, that ye be not partakers \n\n\n\n40 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof her sins, and that ye receive not of her plagues.\" \nThis is one of her capital crimes. She does not \nspeak against the Holy Ghost. No, she is silent \nabout him ! \n\n\n\n12. Inlambility. \n\n\n\nEvery body knows that the Church of Rome lays \nclaim to infallibility. She contends that there is no \ntnistake about her ; that she cannot err. Now this very \nmodest claim of our sister of Rome (for in the matter \nof churches I reject the relation of mother and daugh- \nter) I am constrained to question, and that for such \nreasons as the following : \n\n1. She cannot herself tell us where her infallibility \nis to be found. She is sure that she has it somewhere \nabout her, but for the life of her she cannot tell where. \nSome of her writers say that it is with the Pope. Others \ncontend that it resides in a general council. And ano- \nther opinion is that both the Pope and a council are \nnecessary to it. Now I think they ought to settle it \namong themselves who is infallible, before they re- \nquire us to believe that any one is. Let X\\\\eiinjind in- \nfallibility and fix it. After that it will be time enough \nfor us to admit its existence. But, \n\n2. We will suppose that it is the Pope who is infal- \nlible — each successive Pope. Well, where did they \nget their infallibility ? Why, it was transmitted from \nSt. Peter, to be sure, Christ gave it to him, and he \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 41 \n\nhanded it down. But was Peter infallible ? There was \na day when I suspect he did not think himself infal- \nlible — when smitten to the heart by the reproving look \nof his Lord, he went out and wept bitterly. There is \nno doubt that he made a mistake, when he so confi- \ndently pronounced, \" Though I should die with thee, \nyet will I not deny thee\" — and let it be remembered \nthat this was after Christ had said, \" Thou art Peter, \nand on this rock,\" &c. \n\nIf Peter was infallible, I wonder he did not at once \nsettle the difficulty of which we have an account in \nActs, 15. Why was the matter suffered to be debated \nin the presence of his infallibility ? It seems that Pe- \nter on that occasion claimed no pre-eminence. Nor \nwas any particular deference paid to him by the coun- \ncil. He related his experience, precisely as did Paul \nand Barnabas. James seems to have been in the chair \non that occasion. He speaks much more like an infal- \nlible person than any of the rest. He says, \" Where- \nfore my sentence is,\" &c. What a pity it is for the \nchurch of Rome that Peter had not said that instead \nof James. We should never have heard the last of it. \nBut it was the bishop of Jerusalem, and not the bishop \nof Rome, who said it. It cannot be helped now. Will \nmy Catholic brother take down his Douay and read \nthat chapter ? \n\nBut again, if Peter was infallible, I am surprised \nthat Paul \" withstood him to the face, because he was \nto be blamed\" Gal. 2:11. That was no way to treat \na Pope. But Paul had always a spice of the Protes- \ntant about him. And yet Peter did not resent Paul's \ntreatment of him, for in his second Epistle he speaks \nof him as \" our beloved brother Paul.\" I suppose that \n\n4* \n\n\n\n42 THOUGHTS ON FOPERY. \n\nPeter himself did not know he was infallible. Men \ndo not always know themselves. \n\nOnce more, if the superiority among the disciples \nbelonged to Peter, it has struck me as strange that, \nwhen a dispute arose among them who should be the \ngreatest, our Savior did not take Peter, instead of a \nlittle child, '' and set him in the midst of them,\" \nand remind the others that the supremacy had been \ngiven to him. I think the other apostles could not \nhave understood Christ in that declaration, \" Thou art \nPeter,\" &c. as the church of Rome now understands \nhim, otherwise the dispute about superiority could \nnever have arisen. \n\nNow, according to the Catholic doctrine, Peter be- \ning infallible, each successive Pope inherits his infal- \nlibility, and therefore never a man of them could err \nin a matter of faith — nor even the woman Joan, (for in \nthe long list of Papas, there was by accident in the \nninth century one Mama, though this, I am aware, is \ndenied by some,) — even she retained none of the/rm7- \nty of her sex. \n\nIt is well for the church of Rome that she does not \ncontend that her popes are infallible in practice, for \nif she did, she would find some difficulty in reconciling \nthat doctrine with history. It is very true that one may \nerr in practice and not in faith. Nevertheless, when I \nsee a man very crooked in practice, I cannot believe \nthat he is always exactly straight in doctrine. I can- \nnot believe that all I hear from him is good and true, \nwhen what I see in him is false and bad. Take for \nexample such a one as Pope Alexander sixth ; when \nhe, the father of such a hopeful youth as Cesar Bor- \ngia, and the chief of ecclesiastics too, tells me, with a \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 43 \n\ngrave air and solemn tone, that it is a shocking wicked \nthing for an ecclesiastic to marry, I cannot help de- \nmurring somewhat to the statement of Cesar's father. \nBut I must proceed with my reasons. \n\n3. If a man says one thing one day, and the next \nday says another thing quite contrary to it, I am of \nopinion that he is one of the days in error. But what \nhas this to do with the business in hand ? Have not \nthe Popes always pronounced the same thing? Have \nthey ever contradicted each other ? Ask rather, whe- \nther the wind has always, ever since there was a wind, \nblown from the same quarter. Now here is a reason \nwhy I cannot allow infallibility to belong to either \npopes or councils. \n\n4. I would ask just for information, how it was, \nwhen there were three contemporary Popes, each \nclaiming infallibility. Had they it between them ? or \nwhich of them had it ? What was the name of the one \nthat there was no mistake about? How were the \ncommon people to ascertain the infallible one? for \nyou know their salvation depended on their being in \ncommunion with the true Bishop of Rome, the right- \nful successor of St. Peter. \n\n5. The more common opinion among the Catholics \nis, I believe, that the infallibility resides in a Pope and \ngeneral council together. Each is fallible by itself, but \nputting the two together, they are infallible ! Now I \nadmit that in some languages two negatives are equi- \nvalent to an affirmative ; but I do not believe that two \nfallibles ever were or will be equivalent to an infalli- \nble. It is like saying that two wrongs make a right. \n\n\n\n44 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n13. The Keys. \n\nThe Catholics, by which I mean Roman Catholics, \nsince, though a Protestant, I believe in the holy Ca- \ntholic, that is, universal church, and profess to be a \nmember of it, at the same time that I waive all pre- \ntensions to being a Roman Catholic. — they make a \ngreat noise about the keys having been given to Peter ; \nthe keys of the kingdom of heaven. Well, it is true \nenough — they were given to him. The Bible says so, \nand we Protestants want no better authority than the \nBible for any thing. We do not require the confirma- \ntion of tradition, and the unanimous consent of the fa- \nthers. We do not want any thing to back \" Thus saith \nthe Lord.\" Yes, the keys were given to Peter ; it is \nsaid so in Matthew, 16 : 19. This is one of those pas- \nsages of Scripture which is not hard to be understood, \nas even they of Rome acknowledge. I am glad our \nbrethren of that communion agree with us that there \nis something plain in the Bible ; that there is one pas- \nsage, at least, in which private interpretation arrives \nat the same result which they reach who follow in the \ntrack of the agreeing fathers ! I suppose, if we could \ninterpret all Scripture as much to the mind of the Ca- \ntholics as we do this, they would let us alone about \nprivate interpretation. \n\nWell, Peter has got the keys. What then ? What \nare keys for ? To unlock and open is one of the pur- \nposes served by keys. It was for this purpose, I sup- \npose, that Peter received them : and for this purpose \nwe find him using them. He opened the kingdom of \nheaven, that is, the Gospel Church, or Christian dis- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 45 \n\npensation, as the phrase \" kingdom of heaven \" often \nsignifies. He opened it to both Jews and Gentiles : \nhe preached the first sermon, and was the instrument \nof making the first converts among each. With one \nkey he opened the kingdom of heaven to the Jews, and \nwith the other to the Gentiles. This was a distinction \nconferred on Peter, it is true : but it was necessary \nthat some one of the twelve should begin the business \nof preaching the Gospel. The whole twelve could \nnot turn the keys and open the door. The power of \nbinding and loosing, which was conferred on Peter \nwhen the keys were given him, was not confined to \nhim, but, as Matthew testifies in the next chapter but \none, was extended to all the disciples. \n\nWell, Peter opened the kingdom of heaven ; and \nVv'-hat became of the keys then ? Why, there being no \nfarther use for them, they were laid aside. I don't \nknow what has become of them, for my part. When \na key has opened a door which is not to be shut again, \nthere being no more use for the key, it does not matter \nmuch what becomes of it. Hence, in the history of \nthe Acts of the Apostles, we hear no more about the \nkeys ; and Peter, in his Epistles, says never a word \nabout them. He wrote his second Epistle to put Chris- \ntians in remembrance, but I don't find him reminding \nthem of the keys. The truth is, having used them for \nthe purpose for which they were given him, he had \nafter that no more concern about them. \n\nBut many fancy that Peter kept these keys all his \nlife, and then transmitted them to another, and he to \na third, and so from hand to hand they have come \nalong down till whaVs his name at Rome has them \nnow — the Pope. And they say these keys signify the \n\n\n\n46 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nauthority given to the church, and especially to the \nPopes. But I find no Bible warrant for this assertion. \nChrist does not say that he gave the keys to Peter to \ngive to somebody else, and Peter does not say that he \ngave them to any body else, and no body since Peter \nhas been able to produce the keys. This settles \nthe matter in my mind. I want to know where the \nkeys are. \n\nBut some suppose that Peter took them to heaven \nwith him, and that he stands with them at the gate of \nheaven, as porter, to admit and keep out whom he \nwill. But this notion does not tally very well with \ncertain passages of Scripture. Christ tells his disci- \nples that he goes to prepare a place for them, and that \nhe will come again and receive them unto himself: \nJohn, 14 : 3. He will do it. He will not trust the bu- \nsiness to Peter. \" He that hath the key of David, he \nthat openeth and no man shutteth, and shutteth, and \nno man openeth, is not Peter, but Christ.\" Rev. 3 : 7. \n\nBut the Catholics will have it that Peter is the one ; \nand he, having the keys, they think that they will all \nbe admitted, while never a soul of us, poor Protes- \ntants, will. They may be mistaken, however. 1 do \nnot know what right they have to put in an exclusive \nclaim to Peter. I see no resemblance between Peter \nand a Roman Catholic — none in the world. I never \ncare to see a truer and better Protestant than I take \nhim to be. But if he does stand at the gate of heaven \nwith such authority as the Catholics ascribe to him, \nyet I suppose he will not deny that he wrote the \nEpistles called his. Well, then, if he shall hesitate \nto admit Protestants, we shall only have to remind him \nof his Epistles. He does not say any thing in them \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY, 47 \n\nabout his being Pope. No, he says, \" The elders which \nare among you I exhort, who am also an elder.\" Not \na word says he about the Mass, or the Seven Sacra- \nments, or Transubstantiation. Let the reader turn to \nhis Epistles, and see just what he does say ; I think \nhe will not find any thing in those Epistles to frighten \nProtestants. \n\nBut there is still another supposition, viz* that Peter \nis not perpetual porter of heaven ; but each Pope, as \nhe dies, succeeds to that office — one relieving another. \nI do not know how it is, but I judge, if all the Popes \nhave been in their day porters of Paradise, many of \nthem must have tended outside. They have not been \nuniversally the best of men, I think history informs \nus. But I will not mention any names. \n\nOne thing more. In Catholic pictures and prints \n(for that very spiritual religion abounds with these) \nyou will see the keys of which we have been speak^ \ning represented as made to suit all the complicated \nmodern wards, as if fresh from some manufactory at \nBirmingham or Sheffield ! I do not suppose the keys \nPeter received answered exactly to this ingenious re- \npresentation of them. \n\n\n\nI4t Tli6 Head of the Chnrch^ \n\nThe church is Represented in the Scriptures as a \nbody. Of course, therefore, it must have a head ; and \nthat same blessed book tells us who the head is* And \n\n\n\n48 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwho, think you, is the head of the church? Who bul \nChrist himself? Who else is fit to be its head — its \nsource of influence and government ? I will produce \nthe passages of Scripture in proof of Christ's headship \npresently. \n\nBut the Catholics say that the Pope is the head ol \nthe church. Ah, is he 1 Where is the proof that he is ? \nNow there is nothing which irritates a Catholic so \nsoon as to ask him for proof. \" Proof, indeed !\" he \nsays. \" Do you ask proof of an infallible church ? \nWhat is the use of infallibility, if we must prove every \nthing? These are truly most degenerate days. The \ntime was when nobody demanded proof; but now \nevery little sprig of a Protestant must have reasons to \nsupport assertions. He calls for proof. And he must \nhave it from the Bible. He will not believe any thing \nin religion unless some text can be cited in support of \nit. Things have come to a pretty pass indeed.\" It is \neven so. We plead guilty to the charge. For every \nthing alleged to be a doctrine of Christianity, we con- \nfess we do require some proof out of the writings of \nsome evangelist or apostle. And since our Catholic \nbrethren will not gratify us by adducing the scriptural \nWarrant for believing the Pope or Bishop of Rome to \nbe the head of the church, we will do them the favor \nof consulting the Scriptures for them. Well, Ave begin \nwith Genesis^ and we go through to Revelation, search^ \ning all the way for some proof that the Pope is the \nhead of the church. But so far are we from finding \nany evidence that he is the head of the church, that we \nfind not a particle of proof that he is that or any things \nWe find no account of any such character as a Pope — \nnot a word about him. The subject of the proposition, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 49 \n\nthat is, the Pope, does not seem to be known to that \nbook at all. I really do not wonder that it frets a Ca- \ntholic v/hen we send him to the Bible for proof that \nthe Pope is the head of the church* \n\nBut though we discover nothing in the Bible about \na Pope, yet we find much about the head of the church. \nIn Ephesians, 1 : 22, 23, Christ is said to be \" the head \nover all things to the church, which is his body.\" Now, \nif the church is his body, surely he must, be the head \nof it, as well as head over all things to it. Will any \none say that the Pope of Rome is the head of ChrisVs \nbody ? That is shocking. And yet the Catholics are \ntold that they must believe it ; and seeing they cannot \nhelp it, they do somehow or other contrive to believe \nit. In Eph. 5 : 23, it is explicitly declared that '* Christ \nis the head of the church.\" The same is repeated in \nCol. 1 : 18—\" He (Christ) is the head of the body, \nthe church.\" \n\nOur brethren of the Catholic church have long been \nin the habit of asking where our religion was before \nthe Reformation. They may see where one doctrine of \nit was fifteen hundred years before the Reformation. \nOne would suppose, from the way they talk, that they \nsupposed the Bible was written a considerable time \nafter the Reformation, and that it was then got up to \nsupport the Protestant heresy ! I might ask them, but \nthat they do not like to be asked questions, lest they \nshould not be able to answer them, where their doc- \ntrine of the Pope's headship of the church was when \nthe New Testament was written, i. e. some seventeen \nhundred and fifty or eighteen hundred years ago. But \nI will withdraw the question. It may seem unkind to \npress it. \n\n5 \n\n\n\n50 THOUGHTS ON POPEllY. \n\nNow, Since the Bible says that Christ is the head of \nthe church, if the Pope also is, there must be two \nheads of the church. But there is only one body. Why \nshould there be two heads? Is the church a monster? \nBesides, if there had been another head, Christ would \nhave been spoken of in the Scriptures as one of the \nheads of the church, or as a head of the church. But \nhe is called the head of the church. The article is de- \nfinite, denoting only one. There is not a syllable in \nthe Bible about another head. Indeed the language of \nthe Bible does not admit of there being another. Yet \nthe Catholics say there is another ; and it is their Pope. \n\" Christ being absent, they say, it is necessary there \nshould be a visible human head to represent him on \nearth.\" Now the Pope, they say, is this visible head \nof the church — the head that you can see. But is their \nassumption correct, that Christ is absent? Is he ab- \nsent ? Hear : \" Lo, I am with you alway, even unto \nthe end of the world.\" \" Where two or three are ga- \nthered together in my name, there am I in the midst \nof them.\" Was he absent from Paul ? He says : \" I \ncan do all things through Christ which strengtheneth \nme.\" A visible head ! What do we want of a visible \nhead ? Of what use to us — the part of the body here — \nis a head a way off at Rome ? It is no better than a \ncaput mortuum to us. \n\nBut what if we admit the possibility of a visible \nhuman head of the church, who made the Pope that \nhead ? Did he inherit this also from St. Peter? Was \nPeter head of the church? He, more modest than his \npretended successors, does not any where claim that \ntitle. I know the Catholics hold him to be the rock — \ni\\iQ foundation of the church; but I really did not know \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 51 \n\nthat they regarded him, whom, however they exalt, \nthey still consider but as a mere man, as capable of \nbeing head of the church too. It is not too much to \nspeak of Christ as both the foundation and head of \nthe church, but to speak of Peter, poor Peter, as we \nare accustomed to call him when we think of the \nscene of the denial, as both foundation and head of the \nchurch, is really carrying the matter rather far. How \nlittle Peter thought he was hoth^ when \" he went out \nand wept bitterly !\" How little he knew of himself! \nThe Pope the head of the church ! ! Then the church \nis the Pope's body ! ! Alas for the church ! \n\n\n\n15. Tlie Power to Forgive Sius. \n\nSeculum modesium I rather suppose will not be the \ndesignation by which the 19th century will be distin- \nguished in history from her sister centuries. I know \nnot whether any age has been more remarkable for \ncases of unfounded pretension than the present. The \ncase, however, of which I am to take notice, did not \noriginate in the 19th century. It has existed many \nhundred years. I do not wonder at its surviving the \ndark ages, but that it should have lived so far into the \nluminous 19th does somewhat surprise me. The pre- \ntension to which I allude is that made by the Catholic \npriesthood. What do you think it is which they pre- \ntend they can do? Forgive sins. They pretend that \nthey have power over sins, to remit or retain them. \n\n\n\n52 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nThey claim that the prerogative of pardon is lodged \nwith them. And that is the reason why they receive \nconfessions. Confession to a priest would be a farce, \nif it was not thought that he could forgive. \n\nThe first thing that strikes me is the contrariety of \nthis notion to common sense. The idea of being par- \ndoned by any other than the being offended, seems \nabsurd. What ! a fellow-sinner of a priest pardon \nsins against God ! It is as if of two debtors, one should \nplay the creditor and forgive the other his debt, with- \nout any consultation with the real creditor. That \nwould be a strange way of getting rid of debts. I al- \nways thought he to whom the debt is due ought to \nhave a say in the matter of remitting it. If I had \ndisposed of a debt in that manner I should always be \nafraid that it would some day or other be exacted — \nthat the real creditor would appear and make his de- \nmand. Then it would be a poor come off for me to \nsay that my fellow-debtor forgave me the debt. I will \ntell you what I expect. I expect that a great deal \nwhich the priests forgive will be exacted notwith- \nstanding. Catholics talk of going to the priest and \ngetting their old scores wiped off^ just as if it were \nbut a slate and pencil memorandum, which any one \ncan rub out. The sin of man is not thus recorded. It \nis \" written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a \ndiamond.\" It is not so easily obliterated. \n\nBut is there not Scripture in support of the priests' \nclaim? See John, 20 : 23. Does not Christ say to his \ndisciples: \" Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are re- \nmitted unto them ; and whosesoever sins ye retain, \nthey are retained ?\" Yes, he says that to his disciples \n— the apostles. But pray, what right have the priests \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 53 \n\nto found a claim of theirs on a grant made to the apos- \ntles? They do indeed come after the apostles, but \nthey are their successors in no other sense. I should \nlike to know how the priests prove that they inherit \nthe apostolical power of remitting sins. But I forget \nthat they scorn a resort to proof. \n\nThe power communicated in that grant to the apos- \ntles was merely ministerial and declarative. It was \nno less true after than before that grant was made, that \nnone can forgive sins but God only. That the power \nwas declarative merely, that is, that the apostles were \nempowered to remit and retain sins only as they were \nauthorized and enabled to make a correct statement to \nmankind of the way and means of salvation, to ex- \npress the conditions of pardon and condemnation, and \nto propose the terms of life and death, is clear to me \nfrom the fact that the conferring of it was immedi- \nately preceded by the Savior's breathing on them, \nand saying, \"Receive ye the Holy Ghost.\" Now, \nthis communication of the Spirit qualified them for \nthe declarative remission and retention of sins. They \nwere thereby inspired to pronounce on what grounds \nsins are remitted and retained by God. \n\nThis was the power over sins granted to the apos- \ntles, and I shall show presently that this declarative \npower is all they pretend ever lo have exercised. Now, \nthe priests have no right to claim even this power, ex- \ncept in that subordinate sense in which it is possessed \nby all who are authorized to preach the Gospel. Did \nChrist ever breathe on them, and say to them, \" Re- \nceive ye the Holy Ghost,\" that they should claim \nequality with the apostles ? The effect of the inspi- \nration is not so manifest in the case of the priests as \n\n5* \n\n\n\n54 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nit was in the case of the apostles, if I may be permit- \nted to express an opinion. \n\nBut the priests claim far more than ever entered \nthe thoughts of the apostles. They are not satisfied \nwith the ministerial and declarative power over sins \nThey claim a magisterial and authoritative power \nto remit and retain them. Consequently they call \nsinners to come and confess their sins to them. Did \nPeter and the other apostles, the very men to whom \nChrist said, \"whosesoever sins ye remit,\" &c. ever \ndo such a thing ? You read in the Acts of the Apos- \ntles of synagogues and proseuches, or places of prayer, \nbut do you find any thing about confession-boxes there? \nDoes there seem to have been any thing auricular in \nthe transactions of the day of Pentecost ? \n\nThere is the case of Simon Magus that strikes me \nas in point. If Peter and John had had the power of \nforgiving sin, could they not have exercised it in favor \nof Simon ? But we find Peter addressing him just as \nany Protestant minister would have done : \" Repent \ntherefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if per- \nhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee.\" \nHow differently the Roman priest would have done ! \nHe would have said, \" Well, Simon, and what have \nyou to say for yourself? Ah, that is very bad, very \nbad. But if you are sorry, Simon, I forgive you. Only \nI cannot let you off without doing some penance. \nYou must say so many pateT7iosters, and you must \nnot eat meat for so many days.\" This is the way in \nwhich the boasted successors of Peter manage these \nmatters. But, they will say, Simon was not penitent, \notherwise perhaps Peter would have pardoned him. \nBut I wonder if pardon would have waited for Peter's \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 65 \n\naction in the matter, if there had been penitence in \nthe heart of the sorceror. I suspect not. I suspect \nthe gracious Lord, when he sees contrition in any \nsoul, does not withhold pardon till a priest or even an \napostle shall intervene and act in the matter. And \nwhen the good angels have ascertained that a sinner \nhas repented, I rather suppose they do not suspend \ntheir rejoicing until he has gone to confession, and \nhas got absolution from the priest. \n\nWhat a glorious book the Bible is ! I wish the au- \nthorities of the Catholic church would condescend to \nstrike it off the list oi prohibited books, and allow the \nLord to speak to his creatures. I wish they would \nlet their people, the many thousands that on the Sab- \nbath crowd their chapels and cathedrals, read, or hear \nwhat Jehovah says to \" every one \" in that wonderful \nchapter, the 55th of Isaiah. It is indeed a wonderful \nchapter. But the Catholics don't know any thing \nabout it. No ; and they have never heard of that pre- \ncious and glorious verse, the 18th of the 1st chapter \nof Isaiah, in which thus saith the Lord to the sinner, \n\"Come now, and let us\" (you and I, sinner !) \"rea- \nson together.\" And then follows the reasoning, \n\" though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as \nwhite as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they \nshall be as wool.\" Ask the awakened sinner, or the \nrecently pardoned, what he would take for that pas- \nsage. He esteems it above all price ; and to the Chris- \ntian it becomes every day more and more a theme of \nwonder and delight. But the Catholics don't know \nthat the Lord has ever made any such kind and con- \ndescending proposal to his creatures. They never \nhear of the call of God to come and reason with him. \n\n\n\n56 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nThe only \" come \" they hear is the priest's call. I \npity them. \n\nBut it is no wonder that the priests treat the people \nas they do, for if they allowed them to know what the \nLord says to them, they would be very apt to go di- \nrectly to God in Christ, and leave the priest out of the \nquestion. And then where would be the importance \nof the priest ? and his emolument, where 7 \n\n\n\n16. A Catholic Book Revieived. \n\nI happened to lay my hand the other day on a little \nbook entitled, \" The Christian's Guide to Heaven, a \nManual for Catholics,\" to which was appended some \nhymns. The book was published in Baltimore by a \nrespectable Catholic bookseller, and under the sanction \nof the Archbishop. Well, said I to myself, this is good \nauthority. I will look into this book. I know what \nProtestants say of Catholics. I will see now what \nCatholics say of themselves. Men cannot complain \nwhen we take their own account of themselves ; and \nI like the way of judging people out of their own \nmouths, because it shuts their mouths so far as reply \nis concerned. I resolved that I would compare the \nstatements and doctrines of this book professing to be \na guide to heaven, with the statements and doctrines \nof that bigger book which is the Protestant's guide to \nheaven. You will know that I mean the Bible. That \nis our manual — that the guide we consult and follow. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 57 \n\nHowever, if a book agrees with the Bible, that is \nenough. \n\nSo I began to read ; and one of the first things that \nI came to was, \" Conditions of plenary indulgences.\" \nIndulgences ! thought I. What does a Christian want \nof indulgences ? He is apt enough to indulge him- \nself. And how are indulgences to help him to hea- \nven? I should rather pronounce self-denial the road. \nIndulgences not partial^ but plenary ! I should think \nplenary indulgence on any condition was enough to \nruin one. If by indulgence the Catholics mean par- \ndon, they have chosen an unfortunate way to express \nit. Why not say full 'pardon, instead of plenary in- \ndulgence ? But I suppose pardon expresses what God \nexercises, and indulgence what the church grants. I \nshould like to know, however, what right the church \nhas to grant any thing of the kind. \n\nWell, the conditions enumerated were four. I took \nnote only of the first, which was in these words : \" To \nconfess their sins with a sincere repentance to a priest \napproved by the bishop.\" This begins very well, and \ngoes on well for a time. Confession of sin, with sin- \ncere repentance, is truly a condition of pardon. \"If \nwe confess our sins. He is faithful and just to forgive \nus our sins.\" But what a pity the condition did not \nstop there, or if any thing was added in regard to the \nobject of the confession, that it did not designate God \nas the being to whom the sins should be confessed. \nThe sins are all doiie against him, and why should \nthey not be told to him ? I cannot get rid of the no- \ntion that we ought to confess our sins to God, the be- \ning whom we have offended by them. But no, says \nthis guide to heaven, the confession must be made to \n\n\n\n58 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\na priest ; it is good for nothing without it. If the pub- \nlican, of whom we read, had lived now, it would have \nbeen quite irregular, according to the Catholic notion, \nthat he should have gone down to his house justified, \nwhen he confessed only to God. And the penitent \nmust take care what sort of a priest it is to whom he \nconfesses, else he might as well remain impenitent. \nIt must be a priest approved by -the bishop. Well, \nnow, this is a queer arrangement, that our pardon \nshould be suspended on such a condition — that angels, \nin other words, must wait before they express any joy \nthat a sinner has repented, until he has gone and told \nhis sins to a priest approved by a bishop ! Who sus- \npended it there, I wonder ? Not Isaiah. Read his 55th \nchapter. Nor Peter, nor Solomon, nor John, nor Paul. \nRead them and see. There is not a word in the Bible \nabout confessing to a priest. So I found that the two \nguides did not agree in this matter. The Catholic \nManual said the confession must be to a priest ; but \nthe. holy Scriptures insist on no such thing, but direct \nthat the confession be made to God. \n\nThis thought occurred to me : What if a sinner con- \nfess his sins with a sincere repentance, though not to \na priest, what is to be done with his soul ? Must par- \ndon be denied him, and he be consigned to perdition, \nbecause, though he confessed penitently, yet he did it \nnot to a priest ? Really this is making rather too much \nof the priest. It is making too important a character \nof him altogether. I do not believe that our salvation \nis so dependent on the deference we pay the priest. \n\nBefore the conditions, on one of which I have been \nremarking, are mentioned, there is this general state- \nment: \"Plenary indulgences granted to ihe faithful \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY* 69 \n\nthfoughout these states, at the following times s^^ and \nthen follows a specification of nine different seasons \nwhen plenary indulgences may be had. I did not know \nbefore that pardons were confined to any set times ; I \nalways supposed that they might be had summer and \nwinter, night and day, and at any hour of either — in \nshort, whenever a penitent heart breathes its desire to \nGod» My mistake must have arisen from the fact that \nI have been in the habit of consulting the Bible on \nthese matters. I never saAV \" The Christian's Guide \nto Heaven \" before in my life. I have always used the \nBible as a guide, for want of a better. \n\nNow that I am on the subject of confession, I may \nas well make another reference to the manual. There \nis an article or chapter headed \" The Confiteor.\" In \nit the person wishing to be guided to heaven makes \nthis confession, from which it will appear that Catho- \nlics do not confine their confessions to the priest, but \nextend them to many other beings : '' I confess to Al- \nmighty God, to blessed Mary, ever virgin, to blessed \nMichael the archangel, to blessed John the Baptist, to \nthe holy apostles Peter and Paul, and to all the saints, \nthat I have sinned.\" Nov/, I do not see the use of \nnaming so many. The confession, I think, should have \nstopped with the first mentioned — Almighty God. \nWhat have the rest to do with it ? How is it any of \ntheir business ? The person has not sinned against \nthem. Surely every sinner may say to God, \" Against \nthee, thee only have I sinned,\" since David could. \nBesides, this coupling of these creatures with the \nCreator, as worthy equally with himself to receive our \nconfessions of sin, savors strongly of idolatry. Con- \nfession is made to them on the same principle that \n\n\n\n60 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nprayer is. Each is an act of worship — one of those \nthings which should be confined exclusively to God. \nI wonder the Catholics will not be satisfied with one \ngreat and glorious object of worship, God, the Father, \nSon, and Spirit. Why will they in their devotions as- \nsociate creatures with the Creator? The book I am \nreviewing contains numerous and very offensive ex- \namples of it. I shall continue the review in my next \n\n\n\n1^. The Review of tHe Catholic Book eontlntied* \n\nThe next thing that struck me as worthy of notice \nin the perusal of the book was this— that the devout \nCatholic is represented as making the following so- \nlemn declaration concerning the Holy Scriptures : \n\" Neither will I ever take and interpret them other- \nwise than according to the unanimous consent of the \nfathers. '' I smiled when I read this, and I thought \nwithin myself, if that is his determination, he will not \nbe likely ever to take them at all. What an intention \nthis, which the Catholic expresses — never to attach \nany meaning to a passage which he may read in the \nBible, until he has first ascertained whether certain \nancient persons called the fathers all agreed in any \ninterpretation of it, and if so, what that interpretation \nis ! What should give such authority and weight to \nthe interpretation of the fathers ? Why cannot we as- \ncertain what the Bible means as well as they could ? \nWhat helps had they which we have not ? and why \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS 0J4 POPERY. 61 \n\nrequire that they be unanimous? What a roundabout \nmethod this of finding out what a book means ! First, \nthe reader has got to ascertain who are entitled to be \ncalled fathers. He must make out a list of them all. \nIf one is overlooked, it vitiates the interpretation, though \nall the rest should agree in it. But supposing him to \nhave got a catalogue of the whole number from Bar- \nnabas to Bernard, the next step in the process is to \nascertain how they all interpreted the Bible. For this \npurpose he must pore over their works. But some of \nthem left ni works behind them. How shall he ever \nfind out what they thought of this and that passage of \nScripture ? And yet he must somehow or other ascer- \ntain their opinions, else how can he compare them \nwith the opinions of the other fathers, and discover \ntheir agreement with them ? For you will remember \nthe consent must be unanimous. Others of the fathers \nleft works behind them, but they have not come down \nto us. How shall the reader of the Bible know what \nthose lost works contained ? Yet he must know what \nthey thought, else how can he be sure that they thought \nin accordance with the views of those fathers whose \nworks are preserved to us. I cannot see how this dif- \nficulty is to be got over, for my part. It is altogether \nbeyond me. But supposing it to be surmounted, there \nremains the task of comparing the opinions of all these \nGreek and Latin fathers, to the number of a hundred \nor two, one with another, to see if they all agree ; for \nthe consent, you know, must be unanimous. Those \nparts of Scripture in the interpretation of which they \ndid not agree, are to go for nothing. Indeed, if ninety- \nnine should be found to accord in a particular inter- \npretation, it must be rejected if the hundredth father \n\n6 \n\n\n\n61 THOUGHTS ON POPERV. \n\nhad a different opinion of its meaning. I cannot helj^ \nthinking that it is the better, as certainly it is the \nshorter and easier method, just for every one to take \nup and \" search the Scriptures,\" and \" if any lack \nwisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men \nliberally.\" \n\nAs the case is, I do not wonder that the Catholics \ndo not read the Bible. They have not come to that \nyet. They are still among the fathers, searching out \nand comparing their opinions, so as to know how to \ntake the Bible. By and by, if they live IrTig enough, \nwhen they have ascertained what the fatners agreed \non, they may go to reading the Scriptures. \n\nIt seems odd that one cannot, without mottal sin, \nattach a meaning to such a passage as John, 3 : 16, \n\"God so loved the world, that he gave his only be- \ngotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should \nnot perish, but have everlasting life,\" until he has \nfirst ascertained what Cypirian, Jerome, Hilary, both \nthe Gregorys, and indeed all the fathers thought of \nit, and whether they agreed in their interpretation of \nit. How any one can' read it without understanding \nit in spite of himself, I cannot see. Ah, but they say \nthe Scriptures are so obscure. And are the fathers so \nvery clear 7 Why cannot we understand the Greek \nof John and Paul, as well as that of Chrysostom ? \n\nThe thing which next attracted my observation in \nthe book was the following : \" In the Mass there is of- \nfered to God a true, proper, and propitiatory sacrifice \nfor the living and the dead.\" The Mass ! and what \nis that ? The BihJe could not tell me. So I had to \nresort to the dictionary. It is the name which the \nCatholics give to the sacrament of the Lord's supper \\ \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 63 \n\noiv rather to the half o^ it ; for you know they divide it, \nand giving the bread to the people, do with the wine \nI cannot tell what. They say that it is \"perfect in one \nkind, and anathematize all who say it is not. Their \ncurse is on me now while I am writing. Neverthe- \nless I must ask, if it was perfect in one kind, why did \nChrist institute it in both kinds ? Why did he not \nstop with the bread, reserving the cup ? Was it to \nmake the sacrament more than perfect ? But this is \nreasoning. I forget myself. The Catholics don't \nhold to reasoning. \n\nAn idea occurs to me here which I beg leave to ex \npress. If the sacrament is perfect in either kind, why \ndo not the priests sometimes give the people the cup ? \nWhy do they always give them the bread ? And why \noriginally did they withhold the cup rather than the \nbread? Some persons may imagine a reason, but I \nwill content myself with asking the question. \n\nBut to proceed. They say that \"in the MassZ^ere \nis offered to God,''\"' &c. Why, what do they mean ? \nThere is nothing offered to God. What is offered is \nto men. Christ says, offering to his disciples the \nbread, \"take, eat,\" and reaching out the cup, he says, \n\"drink je all of it.\" There is something offered to \nmen in this sacrament, even the precious memorials \nof the Savior's propitiatory death ; but every one who \nreads the account, sees that there is nothing offered to \nGod. Yet the Catholics, leaning on tradition, say \nthere is in it \" a true, proper and propitiatory sacrifice \" \noffered to God. A sacrifice included in the sacra- \nment! How is that? And a propitiatory sacrifice \ntoo ! I ahvays supposed that propitiatory sacrifices \nceased with the offering up of the Great Sacrifice — \n\n\n\n64 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwhen the Lamb of God bled and died. Do we not \nread, that \" by one offering he hath perfected for ever \nthem that are sanctified,\" \" now once in the end ot \nthe world hath he ap)eared to put away sin by the \nsacrifice of himself ?\" *' Christ was once offered to bear \nthe sins of many\" — and it is said of his blood that it \n\" cleanseth from all sin.\" I don't know what we want \nafter this, of those unbloody sacrifices which the Ca- \ntholics talk of as offered continually in the service of \nthe Mass. What is the use of them, if they are un- \nbloody^ as they say, since \" without shedding of blood \nis no remission ?\" \n\nAccording to the Catholics, it was premature in \nChrist to say on the cross, \" it is finished.\" They \ndeny that it is finished. They say it is going on still — \nthat Christ is offered whenever Mass is said. Once \nChrist was offered, the Bible says ; but the Roman \nchurch affirms that he is offered many times daily ; \nwhenever and wherever mass is said ! \n\nI do really wonder that this religion has lasted so \nlong in the world. How the human mind can enter- \ntain it for a day, I do not know. See how at every \nstep it conflicts with reason. See in how many points \nit does violence to common sense. See, in this case, \nhow boldly it contradicts the dying declaration of the \nSavior. It is a religion unknown to the Bible — and \nyet still in existence, aye, and they say, making pro- \ngress^ and that even in this home of freedom ! If it be \nso, which I question, I blush that I am an American, \nand am almost ashamed that I am a man. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 65 \n\n\n\n18. Tl&e Pope an Idolater. \n\nIt may seem a very uncharitable title I give this ar- \nticle. What, some will say, charge tha Pope with be- \ning an idolater! What do you mean? I mean just \nAvhat I say, that this boasted head of the church, and \nself-styled vicar of Christ, residing at Rome, ascribes \ndivine attributes, and pays divine honors to a creature, \neven to a human being, a partaker in our mortality \nand sin ! and if that is not idolatry, I don't know what \nidolatry is. If that is not idolatry, the worship of the \ngolden calf was not — the worship of the host of hea- \nven was not — the worship of the gods of Hindooism \nis not. What truer definition of idolatry can be given \nthan that it is an ascribing of divine attributes, and a \npaying of divine honors to a creature ? It does not mat- \nter what the creature is, whether it be the angel nearest \nthe throne of God, or an onion that grows in the gar- \nden, such as they of Egypt once worshiped. It is its \nbeing a created thing — it is its being not God. that \nmakes the service done it idolatry. \n\nBut can I make good this charge against the suc- \ncessor of St. Peter, as they call him? If I cannot, I \nsin not merely against charity, but against truth. But \nI can establish it. Nor will I derive the proof from \nthe Pope's enemies ; nor will I look for it in the his- \ntories of the Papacy. The Pope himself shall supply \nme with the proof. Out of his own mouth will I judge \nhim. If his own words do not convict him of idolatry, \nbelieve it not. But if they do, away with the objec- \ntion that it is an offence against charity to speak of \nsuch a thing as the Pope's being an idolater. My cha- \n\n6* \n\n\n\n66 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nrity \" rejoiceth in the truth.\" The charge can be un- \ncharitable only by being untrue. It is too late in the \nday, I trust, for idolatry to find an apologist. But to \nthe proof. Perhaps you suppose it is some obscure \nPope of the night of times — the dark ages, that I am \ngoing to prove an idolater. No, it is a Pope of the \nnineteenth century — the present reigning Pope, Gre- \ngory XVI. He is^ the idolater; and here are his own \nwords in proof of it. They are a part of the circular, \nor e_':cyclical letter, sent forth by him on entering on \nhis office, and addressed to all Patriarchs, Primaies, \nArchbishops, and Bishops. The letter may be found \nin the Laity's Directory, 1833, and has been extensive- \nly published without any of its statements being con- \ntradicted. In it the Pope calls upon all the clergy to \nimplore \" that she, (the Virgin Mary,) who has been, \nthrough every great calamity, our Patroness and Pro- \ntectress, may watch over us writing to you, and lead \nour mind by her heavenly influence, to those counsels \nwhich may prove most salutary to Christ's flock !\" Is \ncomment necessary ? Observe, he recognizes not God \nas having been their defence, but her as having been \ntheir protectress in past calamities, and directs the \nclergy to pray to her to continue her watch over them ! \nAs contrast is one of the principles on which ideas are \nassociated, I was reminded in reading this, of the 121st \nPsalm, in which the writer speaks of the one \" that \nkeepeth Israel.\" It is noishe, according to the Psalmist, \nbut He, the Lord which made heaven and earth, that \nkeepeth Israel. But, according to the Pope, it is the \nVirgin Mary that keeps Israel ; and he speaks of her \nas exerting a heavenly influence on the mind. I al- \nways thought it was the exclusive prerogative of Je- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 67 \n\nnovah to have access to the mind, and to exert an im- \nmediate influence on it ; and I cannot but think now \nthat the Pope must err in this matter, though he \nspeaks ex cathedra. I cannot believe he vtras exactly \ninfallible when he wrote that letter. \n\nBut you have not heard the worst of it yet. In the \nsame letter he says : \" But that all may have a suc- \ncessful and happy issue, let us raise our eyes to the \nmost blessed Virgin Mary, who alone destroys here- \nsies, who is our greatest hope, yea, the entire ground \nOF OUR HOPE !\" The underscoring is mine, but the \nwords are the Pope'i=. Now, just look at this. Did you \never hear any thing like it ? Observe what Mary is said \nto be and to do ; and what the clergy are exhorted to \ndo. The Pope's religion cannot be the oldest, as they \npretend. It is not the religion of the Psalms. In the \n121st Psalm the writer says : \" / will Itft up mine \neyes unto the hills, from ^jwhence cometh my help. \nMy help cometh from the Lord.\" And in the 123d, \n\" Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest \nin the heavens. Behold, as the eyes of servants look \nunto the hand of their, masters, and as the eyes of a \nmaiden unto the hand of her mistress ; so our eyes \nwait upon the Lord our God, until that he have mer- \ncy upon us.\" But the Pope says : \" Let us raise our \neyes to the most blessed Virgin Mary.\" There is the \ndifference between the Pope and the Psalmist. Pro- \ntestants in this case side with the Psalmist ; and in \nthis particular our religion is not only older than Lu- \nther, but older even than the Pope. \n\nI would inquire of the reader whether these prayers \nwhich the Pope would have the whole church address \nto the Virgin Mary, are not precisely such as are pro- \n\n\n\n68 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nper to be addressed to God, and which others do ad- \ndress to him ? Do they not ask of her just what oughi \nto be asked of Him, and what he alone can give? Af- \nter asking such things as the Catholics are directed \nto ask of the Virgin Mary, what remains to be asked \nof God in prayer? And is not this putting a creature \nin the place of God? Indeed, is it not putting God \nquite out of the question? The eyes are raised in \nprayer to the Virgin, and they are lifted no higher. \nThere they fix. Is not this idolatry ? And you see he \n/is not satisfied himself with being an idolater, but he \nwants the entire clergy, and of course the whole Ca- \ntholic church, to join him in his idolatry ! \n\nI wish the Pope had explained how the blessed Vir- \ngin destroys heresies. He says she does it, and she \nalone. I should think it rather belonged to \" the Spirit \nof Truth '• to destroy heresies, and to \" guide into all \ntruth.\" But no, says the Pope, the Spirit of Truth has \nnothing to do with it. It is all done by the blessed \nVirgin ! She \" alone destroys heresies.\" \n\nThe Catholics complain that we call their Pope \nAntichrist. But I would appeal to any one to say if \nhe is not Antichrist, who, overlooking Christ altoge- \nther, says of another, that she is \" our greatest hope, \nyea, the entire ground of our hope ?\" Is not that against \nChrist ? The Bible speaks of him as \" our hope,\" 1 \nTim. 1:1; yea, of him as our only hope ; for \" other \nfoundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is \nJesus Christ.\" 1 Cor. 3:11. \" Neither is there salva- \ntion in any other \" Acts, 4 : 12. It would seem from \nthis, that Christ is the grou7id of hope. But not so, \nsays the Pope ; the blessed Virgin is \" the entire ground \nof our hope.\" By the way, I should not be surprised if \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 69 \n\nthat hope should disappoint its possessor. Now, is not \nthe Pope Antichrist? Well, if he is an idolater and \nAntichrist, ought he to be adhered to ? What sort of \na body must that be, which has such a head ? I think \nI should not like to be a member of it. And I must \nconfess that I am against such a person having any \nmore power in our free, enlightened, and happy Ame- \nrica, than he has already. Pray let us not, after hav- \ning broken the chains of political thraldom, come in \nbondage to idolatry. Let us not, after having extri- \ncated our persons from the power of a king, subject \nour minds to the spiritual domination of a Pope. \n\n\n\n19. Charles X. an Idolater. \n\nHaving proved his holiness the Pope an idolater, \nI proceed now to prove \" his most Christian majesty\" \nthat was, the ex-king of France, an idolater ; which \nhaving done, I shall have gone a good way towards \nproving the whole Catholic church idolatrous, since, \nas you know, it is their boast that they all think alike, \nand that there are no such varieties of opinion among \nihem as among us unfortunate Protestants ; though, \nby the way, it is not so strange that they all think \nalike, when one thinks for all. \n\nI proved Gregory an idolater out of his own mouth. \nI shall do the same in the case of Charles. On the \noccasion of the baptism (with oil, spittle, &c. an im- \nprovement on the simple water-system of the Bible) \n\n\n\n70 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof his young grand-son, the Duke of Bordeaux, \nthis vas his language : \" Let us invoice for him the \nprotection of the mother of God, the queen of the an- \ngels ; let us implore her to watch over his days, and \nremove far from his cradle the misfortunes with which \nit has pleased Providence to afflict his relatives, and \nto conduct him by a less rugged path than I have had, \nto eternal felicity.\" He was anxious that the little boy \nshould have a protector, one to watch over him, and \nto remove his misfortunes, and to conduct him by an \neasy path to eternal life. For this purpose, one not \neducated a Catholic would have supposed that he \nwould apply to the omniscient and almighty God. I \ndo not know who can do those things besides God, \nBut no. 'His majesty\" does no more apply to God, \nthan did his holiness in a similar case. I suppose it \nwould have been heresy if he had. They would have \nthought him going over to Protestantism. His holi- \nness and his majesty both make application to the \ncreature rather than to the Creator. Charles does not \nsay, \" Let us invoke for him the protection of God,\" \nbut of a woman, a woman indeed highly favored of \nthe Lord, and of blessed memory, but still a woman. \nHe calls her, according to the custom of his church, \n\" the mother of God.\" I suppose you know that phrase \nis not in the Bible. And there is a good reason for it, \nthe idea is not as old as the Bible. The Bible is an \nold book, almost as old as our religion. Roman Ca- \ntholicism is comparatively young. I will not remark \non the phrase, mother of God, seeing it is not in the \nBible, and since it has often been remarked upon by \nothers. But there is another thing the ex-king says of \nher, on which I will spend a word or two. He calls \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 71 \n\nh6t \" the queen of the angels.\" Now we read in the \nBible, of Michael, the archangel, or prince of angels, \nbut w6 do not read of the angels having a queen. We \nread also of a king in heaven, but not a word about a \nqueen. I don't know where he got this idea of a queen \nof angels. He certainly did not get it out of the Holy \nScriptures, and yet these Scriptures, I had always \nsupposed, contain all that we know about the angels. \nI wish he Would tell us from his retirement where he \ngot the idea, for he speaks very positive about the an- \ngels having a queen. It is true, we do read in one \nplace in the Bible of a queen of heaven, but the wor- \nship of her was so evidently idolatry, that I presume \nthe Catholics will not quote it as authorizing the title \nthey give and the honor they pay to the Virgin Mary. \nThe account is found in Jeremiah, 44. If any one will \nread the chapter he will see what that prophet thought \nof those worshipers of the queen of heaven. Now, if \nthe worship of a queen of heaven by the Jews was de- \nnounced as idolatry, and ruin came on them in con- \nsequence of it, is not a similar worship performed by \nCatholics as idolatrous, and as dangerous ? \n\nBut no matter what he calls her, he asks her to do \nwhat only God can do. He treats her precisely as if \nshe were divine. Is it not so — and is not this idolatry ? \nHe ascribes divine perfections to her — omniscience, \n€lse how could she watch over the child; and omni- \npotence, else how could she ward off evil from him ; \nand he speaks of her as the guide of souls to eternal \nlife. The Psalmist considered it was the prerogative \nof God to do this. He says, \" Thou shalt guide me \nwith thy counsel, and afterward receive me lo glory.\" \nBut the ex-king looks to Mary to conduct the young \n\n\n\n72 THOUGHTS OPi POPERY^ \n\nduke to eternal life. What the Psalmist expects from \nGod, the ex-king expects from Mary. Is not this put- \nting a creature in the place of God, the Creator? \nEvery one must see that it is shocking idolatry, and \nthat the man who uses such language is as truly an \nidolater as any devotee of Juggernaut. \n\nI do really wonder that the Catholics continue to \ncall their system Christianity. It is by a great misno- \nmer it is so called. It is not the proper name for it at \nall. It should be called by some such name as Mari- \nanism, rather than Christianity. In Christianity the \nprincipal figure is Christ ; but he is not the principal \nfigure in the Catholic religion. Mary is. Therefore \nthe religion should be called after her, Marianism, and \nnot after Christ, Christianity. Catholics are not the \ndisciples of Christ, but of Mary; she is their confi- \ndence and hope. Pope Gregory says she \" is our great- \nest hope, yea, the entire ground of our hope.\" Now, \nI think that the religion of such people ought to be \ncalled after the one who is their greatest hope ; and I \nhave suggested a name to the Catholics, which I ad- \nvise them to adopt. Let their religion be called Mari- \nanism, and let them leave to us the name Christianity, \nsince Christ \" is our hope.\" \n\nHaving proved his Holiness, and his most Christian \nMajesty, the two principal characters in the church of \nRome, idolaters, I think I may as well stop here. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 73 \n\n\n\n20* Idolatry near Home. \n\nIt is wonderful Avhat a propensity there is in fallen \nmen to idolatry. How they do love to worship the \ncreature rather than the Creator ! In a certain church, \nwhich need not be named, the blessed virgin, though \na mere woman, receives ten, perhaps a hundred times \nas much religious honor as does the blessed Savior, \nthough he be \" the mighty God,\" deserving of all ho- \nmage, while she merits barely respectful remembrance. \nOne that has much intercourse with Catholics would \nsuppose the mother to be the Savior of the world, ra- \nther than the Son. They make her to be the principal \nadvocate of sinners in heaven. \" If any man sin, we \nhave an advocate with the Father.\" Who? St. John \nsays, ^^ Jesus Christ the righteous\" — the Catholics \nsay it is Mary ! So they differ — we Protestants side \nwith John. \n\nI have lately met with an idolatrous temple, that is, \na church or chapel avowedly erected in honor of a \ncreature, and dedicated to a creature. Is not that a \ntemple of idolatry 1 Can there be a more accurate de- \nfinition of such a place ? Well, I have seen one — and \nI have not been a voyage to India neither. Some \nthink there is no idolatry nearer than India ; and when \nthey hear of an idol-temple they immediately think of \nJuggernaut. But it is a mistake. I have not been out \nof the United States of America, and yet I have seen \na temple of idolatry. I will state the case, and let \nevery one judge for himself If I am under an erro- \nneous impression I shall be glad to be corrected. The \n\n7 \n\n\n\n74 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ncase is this : On the Catholic chapel in Annapolis, \nMaryland, is this inscription, \" In honorem Dei Pa- \nRJE ViRGiNis.\" It is Latin. The English of it is, \" In \nhonor of the Virgin, the mother of God.\" If I have \nnot rightly translated it, some of those who worship \nin Latin can correct me. \n\nNoAv, what does this mean ? It seems to signify \nthat the chapel was erected, and is continued in ho- \nnor of, that is, for the worship of the Virgin Mary. \nThe being in whose honor a chapel is erected is wor- \nshiped in it. If not, how is it in honor of him? The \ninscription signifies dedication to the Virgin Mary. \nNow, the being to whom a place of religious worship \nis dedicated is always the object of the worship there \nrendered. This is universally understood. Hence Ave \ndedicate our churches to the Triune God, for him Ave \nworship in them. They are erected m honor of him. \nNo one mistakes the meaning of these inscriptions. \nWhen we read on the Unitarian church in Baltimore \nthis inscription in Greek, \" To the only God,\" we un- \nderstand that the church is consecrated to the service \nof the only God, and it is precisely the same as if the \ninscription had been in the style of that at Annapolis, \nin honor of the only God. So when Paul found at \nAthens an altar with this inscription, \" To the unknown \nGod,\" he inferred immediately that worship was in- \ntended, for he says, \" whom therefore ye ignorantly \nworship :\" suppose the inscription had been \" in ho- \nnor of the unknown God,\" would not the apostle's in- \nference have been the same ? Nothing is more clear \nthan that the inscription on which I am remarking, \nimplies that the chapel in question is dedicated to the \nworship of the Virgin Mary ; and she being a creature, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 75 \n\nthis constitutes it a temple of idolatry, and those who \nworship in it idolaters ! \n\nLet no man say that the inscription implies no more \nthan that the chapel is named after Mary. Some Pro- \ntestants name their churches after saints, but the \nname is not given in any case in honor of the saint. \nSt. Paul's in London was not built in honor of St. \nPaul. It is simply so denominated. But here we have \na chapel in honor of the Virgin, and she is called Mo- \nther of God, apparently to justify the worship which \nthe authors of the chapel intend her. If this were th^s \nonly proof that Catholics worship the Virgin Mary, \nwe might overlook it ; but it is only one of many. No \none thing is more susceptible of demonstration, less \ncapable of denial, than that Roman Catholics render \nunto this creature that which is due to God alone, re- \nligious worship. See for proof, their own Rhemish \nTestament with the notes. Therefore they are idola- \nters. I am sorry to say it, because I am sorry there is \nany occasion for saying it. But the time has come to \nspeak out. This religion is threatening America, and \nit should be known, it should be proclaimed in the ear \nof every Christian, and every patriot, that it is some- \nthing worse than mere error. And something more \nto be dreaded far than tyranny, which also it is, and \never has been, and must be — it is idolatry. It puts \nanother, and a creature, in the place of God ; or if it \ndiscards not him, it does what is as offensive to him, \nit associates other and inferior objects of worship with \nhim — and this his jealousy will not suffer. Whatever \nthis great people are to become, I do hope we shall \nnever be a nation of idolaters — creature-worshipers. \nWe had better be, what God forbid we ever should be, \n\n\n\n76 ' THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\na nation of slaves. I do verily believe that the Roman \nCatholic religion has only to be universally adopted \nto make us both. \n\n\n\n31. Praying to Saints. \n\nThis is one of the numerous points in which Ca- \ntholics and Protestants differ from each other. They, \nthe Catholics, pray to departed saints. This they ac- \nknowledge they do, nor are they at all ashamed of the \npractice, but endeavor to justify it. If any one doubts \nthat they hold to the invocation of saints^ as they ex- \npress it, let him consult the notes to their own Rhe- \nmish Testament, or look into their book of prayers, \nwhere he will read the very language in which they \nmake their supplication to the saints. \n\nWe Protestants do oiot pray to saints, and we think \nwe have pretty good reasons for not doing it. We will \nmention some of them, in the hope that they will ap- \npear to be equally good reasons why Catholics should \nnot pray to saints. \n\n1. We do not feel the need of saints to pray to. We \nhave a great and good God to go unto, whose ear is \never open to our cry, and we think that is enough; \nwe do not want any other object of prayer. Whenever \nwe feel the need of any thing, we judge it best to \napply directly to our heavenly Father, especially \nsince James, one of the saints, testifies, that \" every \ngood gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and \ncometh down from the Father of lights.\" Others may, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 77 \n\nm their necessity, if they please, apply to the saints, \nbut we choose to ask of the Great Giver of all good. \nIn doing so, we think we are much more likely to re- \nceive than if we invoke the saints. \n\nIt is true, being sinners, we need an advocate with \nthe Father, but we do not need more than one, and \nhim we have, as John, another saint, testifies, in Jesus \nChrist : \" If any man sin, we have an advocate with \nthe Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.\" John speaks \nof only one advocate, and Paul asserts that as there \nis but one God, so there is but one mediator between \nGod and men. Yet the Catholics will have it, that \nthere are advocates many and mediators many. The \nnotes of the Rhemish translators on 1 Tim. 2 : 5, and \n1 John. 2 : 1, assert the doctrine of a plurality of me- \ndiators and advocates. The object of those notes is to \nshow, that if any man sin, he has many advocates with \nthe Father, and that there are more mediators than \none between God and men ; the very reverse of what \nthose texts assert ! I am aware that the Catholics say \nthat saints are mediators only in a subordinate sense; \nbut I say they are mediators in no sense. Does the \nBible speak of them as mediators in any sense ? Those \nwords, \" mediator \" and \" advocate,\" are in the Bible \nsacredly appropriated to Christ. There is but one, and \nit is he. We come to the Father by him. To him we \ncome immediately. Here we need no daysman. \n\n2. We Protestants have always regarded prayer \nas a part of worship, as much as praise and confession \nof sin. Now, our Savior says, \" Thou shalt worship \nthe Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.\" We \ndare not, therefore, pray to any other than God. We \nwould not like to be guilty of the idolatry of worship- \ning a creature. 7* \n\n\n\n78 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n3. If we were disposed to pray to the saints, yet we \nshould not exactly know how to do it. Were we to \npray to them generally, without singling any out by \nname, it would be a kind of praying at random ; and \nwe strongly suspect that our requests would not be at- \ntended to, for it may be among saints in heaven, as it \nis among their less perfect brethren on earth, that what \nis made every body's business comes to be regarded \nas nobody's. If, on the other hand, we apply to spe- \ncific saints, and invoke them by name, this supposes \nthat we know just who the saints are. It implies either \nthat we could see into their hearts while they lived, \nor that we can see into heaven now — both which far \noutreach our power. We might make some sad mis- \ntake in praying to deceased men who have passed for \nsaints. It is easy enough to ascertain who the church \nregards as saints, but the canonized may not exactly \ncorrespond to the sanctified. But, supposing this diffi- \nculty removed, and that we know certain individuals, \nwho, having once lived on earth, are now in heaven : \nthe next thing is, to make them hear us, for there is \nmanifestly no use in preferring requests to those who \ncannot hear them. How is this to be done ? The saints \nare in heaven — the suppliant sinner is on earth, and \nthe distance between them is great. Saints in heaven \nare not within call of sinners on earth. Where is the \nproof of it? If I say, \"Peter, pray for me,\" how is \nhe to know I say it? Peter is not omnipresent. Do \nthey say that God communicates to him the fact ; but \nwhere is the proof of that ? Besides, what does it \namount to? God, according to this theory, informs \nPeter that a certain sinner on earth wants him, Peter, \nto ask him, the Lord, to grant him something. This \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 79 \n\nis a roundabout method of getting at the thing. The \nman had better, a great deal, not trouble Peter, but say \nat once, \" God be merciful to me a sinner.\" \n\nBut the Catholics ask with an air of triumph, if we \ndo not request living saints to pray for us. We do, \nfor we have inspired authority for that. But that is \nnot praying to them. There is a wide difference be- \ntween praying to a saint in heaven, and asking a fel- \nlow-traveler to Zion on earth to pray to God for us. \nEvery one must see that. When a Christian asks his \nminister or his Christian friend to beseech God for \nhim, he does not consider that he is praying to him or \ninvoking him. Besides, we never ask one to pray for \nus, unless we know he is within hearing. We should \nthink it very silly to do so. We must have proof of \nhis presence before we think of making any request \nof him. Yet the Catholics are continually making \nrequests of creatures, of whose presence with them \nthey have not a particle of proof, and who, being crea- \ntures, it is certain cannot be present with all that call \nupon them. How many individuals are every day, at \nthe same hour, calling on the blessed Virgin for as- \nsistance ! It is all folly, unless she be omnipresent — a \ngoddess, Avhich the Bible certainly does not represent \nher as being. She occupies but one small spot in the \nuniverse of God, and it is probably a great way off. \nShe cannot hear, even if she could help. Do you sup- \npose, that her calm repose in heaven is suffered to be \ndisturbed by the ten thousand confused voices that \ncry to her without ceasing from earth? Never. \n\nIn looking over the Bible, the book which contains \nthe religion of Protestants, and which, being older \nthan the Roman Catholic religion, proves the seni- \n\n\n\n80 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nority of Protestantism over Popery, I find no account \nof praying to saints. I do not read of Joshua praying \nto Moses ; or of Elisha invoking Elijah. No, there is \nnot a word of what constitutes so much of the devo- \ntion of the Catholic in either Testament. We do not \nfind any thing in the Acts or Epistles about praying \nto the beloved Virgin, whom they call our Lady, in \nallusion to the phrase our Lord. Those writers say \nnothing about the another. It is all about the So7i. \nWhat heretics Luke and the rest of them were ! How \nworthy of being excommunicated ! Catholic books are \nfull of the blessed Virgin. The Bible is all about \nChrist. There is the difference. \n\nBut I forgot. The New Testament does record one \ninstance of prayer to a departed saint. The record is \nin Luke, 16. The saint prayed to was Abraham. The \nsupplicant was a rich man in hell, and he made two \nrequests. Here is the Catholic's authority for this \ndoctrine of praying to deceased saints, so far as he \ngets it out of the Bible. Let him make the most of it. \nWhen, however, he takes into consideration that it \nwas offered from hell, and by a man who lived and \ndied in ignorance and neglect of religion, and that it \nproved totally unavailing, I suspect he will make no \nmore out of it. \n\n\n\n33. Specimens of Catliolic Idolatry. \n\nI take them from the Catholic book Avhich I have \nbeen reviewing, \" The Christian's Guide to Heaven.\" \n\n\n\nTHODGHTS ON POPERY, 81 \n\nI did not know, before I read this book, that idolatry \nwas the road to heaven. It did not use to be under \nthe Jewish dispensation. These specimens of Catho- \nlic idolatry I think the reader will pronounce, Avith me, \nquite up 'to the average of Pagan idolatry. \n\nHere is one. \" We fly to thy patronage, O holy \nmother of God ; despise not our petitions in our neces- \nsities, but deliver us from all dangers.\" That is the \nmanner in which devout Catholics in the United \nStates are directed to pray. They fly to Mary, but \n\" God is our refuge.\" There is the difference. They \nlook to her to deliver them from all dangers. I don't \nknow how she can deliver them from all dangers. I \nthink they had better ascertain the powers of the Vir- \ngin Mary, before they place such unbounded reliance \non her. I should be a very fearful creature, had I none \nto fly to from danger but her. \" What time I am afraid, \nI will trust in Z^ee,\" (the Lord.) So says the Psalm- \nist, and it is my purpose too. \n\nThe next specimen is entitled, \" The Salve Regi- \nna,\" and thus it runs : \" Hail ! holy queen, mother of \nmercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee \nwe cry, poor banished sons of Eve; to thee we send \nup our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of \ntears. Turn, then, most gracious advocate, thy eyes \nof mercy tov/ards us, and after this our exile is ended, \nshow unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus, O \nclement, O pious, O sweet Virgin Mary.\" Now, is it \nnot a farce to call this Christianity ? It is a great deal \nmore like atheism. Here is an authorized Catholic \nprayer, in which there is no recognition of God \nwhatever ! \n\nThen follows a call to devout contemplation, and \n\n\n\n82 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\none would suppose that the object of it would be \nGod, or the Savior. But no, it is the Virgin. \"Let \nus, with exultation, contemplate the blessed Virgin \nMary sitting in glory at the right hand of her be- \nloved Son. She is crowned by the heavenly Father \nqueen of heaven and earth, and appointed by Jesus \nChrist the dispenser of his graces.\" It is singular \nthat the Catholics, when they look up to heaven, see \nno object so conspicuous as the blessed Virgin. Now, \nshe was not the most prominent figure in those visions \nof heaven of which we have account in the Bible. Ste- \nphen saw \"the heavens opened, and the Son of man \nstanding on the right hand of God,\" but he saw no- \nthing of the Virgin Mary sitting at her Son's right \nhand. Nor does John, in the history he gives in the \nbook of Revelation of his visions of heaven, make any \nmention of seeing her. But it seems she is not only \nvisible to the contemplative Catholic, but almost alone \nconspicuous. \n\nThey speak of her moreover as crowned universal \nqueen, and appointed dispenser of the graces of Christ. \nBut where did they get that information ? It is too \nmuch to expect us to take their word for it, since it is \nacknowledged that Ave have not the word of God for it. \nI always supposed Christ to be, through his Spirit, the \ndispenser of his own graces. I always understood it \nto be him who \" received gifts for men.\" But it seems, \naccording to the Catholics, that quite a different per- \nson received and dispenses them. How much novelty \nthere is in the Catholic religion ! It is almost all of it \ncomparatively new doctrine. Ours, the Protestant, is \nthe old religion, after all that is said to the contrary. \n\nBut the Catholic is so positive in regard to the coro- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON FOPERY. 83 \n\nnation of the blessed Virgin, that we find him using \nthe following thanksgiving, \" O Jesus, in union with \nangels and saints, I bless thee for the glory w4th \nwhich thou hast environed thy holy mother, and I \ngive thee thanks from the bottom of my heart, for \nhaving given her to me, for my queen, my protec- \ntress and my mother.\" Here ends the thanksgiving \nto Jesus. They soon become weary of addressing \nhim, and fondly return to the mother. \" O queen ot \nangels and men, grant thy powerful intercession to \nthose who are united to honor thee in the confrater- \nnity of the holy rosary,\" (I don't know what that \nmeans ; it is a mystery that I must leave unexplain- \ned,) \"and to all thy other servants.\" Then follows \nsomething to which I solicit particular attention. I \nsuspect the author and approvers of the book would \nbe glad to obliterate the sentence I am going to quote, \nif they could. But it is too late. The words are \nthese : \" I consecrate myself entirely to thy service.\" \nHere the person wishing to be guided to heaven is \ndirected, under the authority of the archbishop, to con- \nsecrate himself entirely to the service of the Virgin \nMary, who is acknowledged on all hands to be a \ncreature. Mark, it is entirely. This excludes God \naltogether from any share in the person's services. \nHe is to be entirely consecrated to the service of the \nVirgin. Will any one, who has any regard for his \ncharacter as an intelligent being, say that this is not \nidolatry ? There cannot be a plainer case of idolatry \nmade out in any part of the world, or from any portion \nof history. St. Paul beseeches us to present our bo- \ndies a living sacrifice to God, which, he says, is our \nreasonable service ; but this Catholic guide to heaven \n\n\n\n84 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndirects us to consecrate ourselves entirely to the ser- \nvice of the Virgin Mary. \n\nAccordingly, the docile Catholic does consecrate \nhimself to Mary, as in the following act of devotion \nto her, which you may read in the same little book : \n\" O blessed Virgm, I come to offer thee my most \nhumble homage, and to implore the aid of thy pray- \ners and protection. Thou art all-powerful with the \nAlmighty. Thou knowest that from my tender years \nI looked up to thee as my mother, my advocate, and \npatroness. Thou wert pleased to consider me from \nthat time as one of thy children. I will henceforth \nserve, honor and love thee. Accept my protestation \nof fidelity; look favorably on the confidence I have in \nthee ; obtain for me, of thy dear Son, a lively faith ; a \nfirm hope ; a tender, generous, and constant love, that \n1 may experience the power of thy protection at my \ndeath.\" Here you perceive the Catholic says he will \ndo what \" the guide \" directs him to do. He will \nserve her; and so doing, he hopes to experience the \npower of her protection at his death. Poor soul ! I \npity him, if he has no better company in death than \nthat. That was not the reason David said, \" Though \nI walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I \nwill fear no evil.\" His reason was, \"for Thou (the \nLord, his shepherd ) art with me ; thy rod and thy \nstaff, they comfort me.\" How can Mary be with \nevery dying Catholic who trusts in her? I should like \nto know. Do they go so far as to say she is omnipre- \nsent ? Have they formally deified her, as in fact they \nhave ? \n\nThe devotee in this prayer uses the following lan- \nguage to the virgin : \" Thou art all-powerful with the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 85 \n\nAlmighty.\" Shall I call this an error ox idi falsehood? \nIt is certain that there is no truth in it. She, a poor \nsinful creature, like the rest of us, saved by grace, all- \npowerful with the Almighty in intercession ! Christ \nis that ; but no other being is ; and to say that any \nother is, is not only falsehood, but blasphemy. \n\n1 have other specimens of Catholic idolatry, which \nI mean to give ; but those I have exhibited are suffi- \ncient to convict that church of idolatry before any \ncourt that ever sat, or any jury that was ever impan- \nneled. / have proved the Catholic church and reli- \ngion to he idolatrous. I have not merely asserted it; \nit has been demonstrated^ and the proof has been \ntaken from her own authorized publication. To have \nsaid she was idolatrous, would have been uncharita- \nble. To have proved it, is not. A man is responsi- \nble for the drift of his assertions, but not for the scope \nof his arguments. \n\nIdolatrous ! Yes, she who pretends to be the only \nchurch, is convicted, out of her own mouth, of idola- \ntry. She has this millstone about her neck. I won- \nder she has sioum with it so long. It must sink her \npresently. I think I see her going doion already, al- \nthough I know many suppose she is rising in the \nworld. \n\n\n\n33. More Specimens of Catliolic Idolatry. \n\nWhy, reader, did you know that the Catholics not \nonly pray to the Virgin Mary, but sing to her ? I was \n\n8 \n\n\n\n86 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nnot aware of it until I got hold of the book I have \nbeen reviewing. But it is a fact that they do. At the \nend of the book 1 find the two following hymns ad- \ndressed to her. They are both in common metre. Here \nis the first. You will see that, in point of idolatry, they \nare fully up to the prayers to her. \n\n\" O holy mother of our God, \n\n\" To ihee for help we fly ; \n\" Despise not this our humble prayer, \n\n\" But all our wants supply. \n\n\" O glorious virgin, ever blest, \n\n\" Defend us from our foes; \n\" From threatening dangers set us free, \n\n\"And terminate our woes.\" \n\nHere is the idolatry of looking to a creature for the \nsupply of all wants ^ and of flying to a creature for \nhelp and for defence. There is a curse pronounced in \nJeremiah, 17 : 5, on the man \" that trusteth in man, \nand maketh flesh his arm.\" If the person who de- \nvoutly uses this hymn does not make \"flesh his arm,\" \nI should like to know who does. \n\nThe other hymn runs thus : \n\n\"Hail, Mary, queen and virgin pure, \n\n\" With every grace replete ; \n\"Hail, kind protectress of the poor, \n\n\" rity our needy state. \n\n\" O thou who fill'st the highest place, \n\n\" Next heaven's imperial throne; \n\" Obtain for us each saving grace, \n\n'• And make our wants thy own. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 87 \n\n\" How oft, when trouble filled my breast, \n\n\" Or sin my conscience pained, \n\" Through thee I sought for peace and rest, \n\n\" Through thee I peace obtained. \n\n\" Then hence, in all my pains and cares, \n\n\"I'll seek for help in thee; \n*' E'er trusting, through thy powerful prayers, \n\n' To gain eternity.\" \n\nBut it seems the blessed Virgin is not the only crea- \nture they sing' to. I find in the same book a hymn to \nSt. Joseph, of which the first verse is, \n\n** Holy Patron, thee saluting, \n\n\" Here Ave meet with hearts sincere; \n\n\" Blest St. Josej)h, all uniting, \n\n\" Call on thee to hear our prayer.\" \n• \n\nPerhaps the reader is aware that the Catholics are \nnot satisfied with praying merely to animated beings, \nthey sometimes supplicate things which have no life. \nIndeed they seem disposed to worship almost every \nthing, except it be Him whom alone they should wor- \nship. To give but one example, I find in \" the Litany \nof the blessed Sacrament,\" as they call it, among ma- \nny other similar supplications, this one, \" O wheat of \nthe elect, have mercy on us.\" What a prayer this, to \nbe sanctioned by an archbishop, and sent forth from \none of the most enlightened cities of America, and \nthat in the nineteenth century too ! It is really too bad. \nWe talk of the progress of things. But here is retro- \nccssio7i with a witness. In the Jirst century the rule \nwas, according to the practice of the publican, to pray, \n\" God be merciful to me a sinner ;\" but now in the \n\n\n\n88. THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nnineteenth^ the sinner is directed to say, \" O wheat \nof the elect, have mercy on us !\" \n\nI think Ave have found, with reference to the Catho- \nlic religion, what Archimedes could not find when he \nwanted to move the world. He said he could move it, \nprovided he could have a place to stand on, from which \nhe could with his lever act upon the world. But as no \nsuch place could be found for him, the world was not \nmoved. I think, however, that I have discovered a \nspot from which we can not only move, but utterly \nsubvert the Roman Catholic religion. We pass over \nher absurdity and her intolerance, and plant ourselves \non her idolatry. Here we will stand, and from this \nplace we will carry on our operations against her. If \nthe Roman Catholic church is idolatrous, can she \nstand ? Must she not fall ? What ! a church that is \nplainly idolatrous maintain its ground as the chinch \nof Christ ! It is impossible. It is but for the eyes of \nmankind to be opened to see her idolatry, and her \nreign is over. The common sense of the world cannot \nlong brook prayers and hymns to creatures, and sup- \nplications for mercy to that of which bread is made. \n1 would not have it persecuted ; I would not have one \nof its adherents harmed in the slightest degree ; but \nthere are some things which the enlightened intellect \nof man cannot tolerate ; and this is the chief of those \nthings which are intolerable to reason. It must go off \nthe stage, even though infidelity should come on and \noccupy it. The religion that is not of the Bible, and \nthat scoffs at reason, must come to an end. I have no \nfears of its rising to any higher ascendancy than that \nit now occupies. My hope is in God; but if it were \nnot, it would be in man. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 89 \n\n\n\n34:. Image Worsliip. \n\n\n\nIf there be any truth in phrenology, I judge that \nCatholics must have the organ of veneration very \nlargely developed. There are no people, unless it be \nsome Pagans, v^rho are so inclined to worship. They \n\"worship almost every thing that comes in their way, \nwith scarcely any discrimination. The value of wor- \nship with them seems to depend on the variety of ob- \njects worshiped. What a pity it is they cannot con- \nfine their worship within narrower bounds ! What a \npity they are not satisfied with one object of religious \nveneration — the great and glorious God ! But no. Be- \nsides him, they must have a host of creatures, angels, \nsaints, and what not, as objects of adoration. Nor are \nthey satisfied with these beings themselves. They \nmust have visible representations of them to bow \ndown unto, and worship. They want something to \nworship which they can see. In the profession of \nfaith which I find in the little book published in Bal- \ntimore under the sanction of the archbishop, from \nwhich I have quoted so freely already, and to which \nI love to appeal, seeing it is published so near home, \nand there can be no dispute about its authority, I find \nthis paragraph among others : \" I most firmly assert, \nthat the images of Christ, of the mother of God, ever \nVirgin, and also of the saints, ought to be had and re- \ntained, and that due honor and veneration is to be \ngiven them.\" This doctrine sounds a little different \nfrom that proraulged from Sinai, and written with the \nfinger of God on the tables of stone. They look to be \nat variance, to say the least; and I think I shall be \n\n8* \n\n\n\n90 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nable to show presently that they have that aspect to \nCatholics as Avell as Protestants. The voice that \nshook the earth, after saying, \" Thou shalt have no \nother gods before me,\" said, \" Thou shalt not make \nunto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any \nthing that is in heaven above,\" &c. Now Christ, the \nvirgin, and the saints are in heaven above, unless any \nchoose to surmise that some of those reckoned saints \nare elsewhere. Consequently no likeness of them \nmay be made. The law proceeds : \" Thou shalt not \nbow down thyself to them, nor serve them.\" But do \nnot Catholics bow down or kneel before likenesses of \nthe saints and others? I ask the question. I know \nthey used to do so, and I suppose I may infer that \nthey do so now, since it is their grand boast that their \nreligion is every where and always the same. The \ndoctrine delivered from Sinai is the old notion on the \nsubject, and it would seem to be against every kind \nand degree of image worship. But, says the modern \n\"guide to heaven,\" what the authoritative Council of \nTrent had said many years before, \" the images of \nChrist, of the mother of God, and also of the saints, \nought to be had and retained, and due honor and ve- \nneration given ihem.\" Here are Baltimore and \nTrent against Sinai; or, in other words, the arch- \nbishop and council on one side, and he who came \ndown on the mountain which burned with fire on the \nother. My hearers must range themselves on either \nside, as they see fit. \n\nBut cannot the two things be reconciled somehow ? \nCan they not be so explai7ied as to remove all ap- \npearance of inconsistency ? Perhaps they can, if one \nof them be explained aivay, that is, be made so clear \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 91 \n\nthat you can't see it any longer. This is a new way \nsome have of reconciling things ; but I, as an indivi- \ndual, do not think much of it. I like the old way of \nlaying things alongside of each other, and then shed- \nding as much light as possible on both. If this is \ndone with the two things in question, I fear there is \nno hope of reconciling them. To this conclusion our \nCatholic brethren themselves seem to have come ; and \nseeing that the two things could not be so explained \nas to appear in harmony, they have most effectually \nexplained one of them away. They have suppressed \nit. The second commandment has been thrown out \nof the Decalogue, as I have shown on a former occa- \nsion. This is a part of the Catholics' \" short and easy \nmethod with Protestants.\" It beats Leslie's with the \nDeists all to nothing. Whether it be as honest and \ncorrect a method, as it is short and easy, I refer to the \njudgment of my readers. One thing is very certain ; \nthe Catholics must think that the old second com- \nmandment is, or at least looks very much against \nthem, otherwise they would not have meddled with \nit. Can any other reason be given for the suppres- \nsion of the second commandment, but that it seems to \nforbid that use which Catholics make of images in \ntheir churches? If any body can imagine another \nreason, I will thank him to state it. Now, where \nthere can be but one motive impelling to an act, I \nsuppose it is not uncharitable to refer the act to that \nmotive. \n\nI believe the reader is aware that, even in the little \nmodern Baltimore book, \" the guide to heaven,\" the \nsecond commandment is suppressed. I think I have \nstated thp.t fact in a former article. It is so. And \n\n\n\n92 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwhy should it not be ? Why should not the invaria- \nble religion be the same here that it is in Ireland or \nItaly ? Why should American Catholics be bound to \nkeep one more commandment than European Catho- \nlics? Why should they of the old countries have \ngreater liberty of action than we of the new world ? \nThe circumstances under which the second com- \nmandment is omitted in \"the guide to,\" &c. are \nthese. An examination, preparatory to confession, is \nrecommended to the devout Catholic, on the ten com- \nmandments, that he may see, before he goes to the \npriest to get forgiveness, wherein he has transgressed \nany of them. Now, he is not directed to examine him- \nself on the second, but Hcice over on the tenth, so as \nto make out the full number. Now I acknowledge it \nwould have been awkward to have set the person to \nexamining himself in reference to the second com- \nmandment. It might have led to a conviction of sins \nnot recognized by his confessor. If he had asked \nhimself, \" is there any graven image, or likeness of \nany thing in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, \nto which I bow down V himself would have been apt \nto answer, \" Why yes, there is that image of Christ I \nkneel before — and there is that likeness of the blessed \nVirgin I bow down to and adore — I am afraid I have \nbroken the second commandment.\" If then he had \ngone to the priest with his scruples, you see it would \nhave made work and trouble. It is true, the priest \ncould have said to him, \" O, my child, you don't \nmean any thing by it. You only use the image as a \nhelp to devotion. Your worship does not terminate \non it. Your worship of it is only relative. Besides, \nyou don't adore the image — you only venerate it — \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 93 \n\nand you only give '■^ due honor and veneration\" to \nimages — nothing more than that. You should con- \nsider, my child, the distinction between adoration and \nveneration — and also between latria and dulia.^^ But \nthis might not have satisfied the person's conscience. \nTt might have been all Greek to him. Wherefore it \nwas judged most prudent not to recommend any ex- \namination on the commandment about images. Per- \nhaps it was the more prudent course. The policy of \nthe measure I do not dispute. \n\nBut, say the Catholics, have not Protestants their \npictures and statues ? Certainly we have. We do \nnot make war against the fine arts. We can approve \nof painting and statuary without practicing idolatry. \nYes, we have representations of deceased Christians, \nbut we do not kneel before them, nor do we on that \naccount drop the second commandment, as some do. \nThe Catholics make a great many explanations and \ndistinctions on this subject of image worship, some \nof which I have adverted to above, in what I have \nsupposed the priest to say. But they are substantially \nthe same that the ancient Israelite might have made, \nand the modern Pagan makes in justification of him- \nself. Idolaters, when called upon to explain them- \nselves, have always been in the habit of saying that \nit was only a relative worship they paid to the visible \nobject, and that the adoration was meant to pass \nthrough and terminate on an invisible object beyond. \nThis explanation is not original with the modern \nChristian idolater. It is as old as Jewish and Paaran \nidolatry. The worshipers of the golden calf wor- \nshiped something beyond the calf. The calf was \nonly a help to devotion, and they only paid \" due \n\n\n\n94 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nhonor and veneration \" to it. Nevertheless they '^ sin- \nned a great sin,\" and \"the Lord plagued the people \" \non account of it.^ \" There fell of the people that day \nabout 3,000.\" I suppose it would have been just the \nsame had they made ever so many explanations. But \ntheir explanations were not waited for. What signi- \nfies all these explanations and distinctions to the great \nmass of the Catholic laity ? They do not even under- \nstand them ; and it seems that if they both understood \nand regarded them, it would not help the matter. It \nis this very explained and qualified worship which the \ncommandment forbids. \n\nI have nothing more to say about images, but I wish \nthe Archbishop of Baltimore would allow the second \ncommandment to appear in the next edition of \" the \nGuide to Heaven.\" I wish he would let the publish- \ner's stereotype plates be altered so as to conform to the \ntables of stone. I am afraid the people will not get \nto heaven if they have not respect to all God's com- \nmandments. The Psalmist seems to have thought \nthat necessary. Ps. 119: 6. It would gratify me much, \nif the archbishop would permit the Lord to say to his \npeople all he has to say. \n\n\n\n25. Relicg. \n\n\n\nMy last was on the subject of images. Here are \nsome more things to which the Catholics, if they do \nnot exactly worship them, pay a respect and venera- \ntion which is very apt to run into worship. They are \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 9d \n\nrelics, so called. I have just come from the diction- \nary where I went to find the word. I consulted Cru- \nden's Concordance first, but I found no such word \nthere. That contains only the words which are used \nin the Bible. Relics came in fashion after the Bible \nwas written. In those old times they were not fn the \nhabit of mutilating the bodies and disturbing the \nbones of the pious dead. They respected the remains \nof the departed by letting them alone, as king Josiah \nordered the people to do in the case of the bones of \nthe two prophets. They were going to disturb them, \nbut he told them to let them alone, 2 Kings, 23 : 18. \nThis is the way in which Protestants respect the re- \nmains of the dead. It is rather queer that Catholics, \nin the lack of other scripture to support their doctrine \nof relics, appeal to this, and they will have it that \nJosiah, like themselves, entertained a great respect for \nrelics. The reference to that passage must be on \nthe principle of Incus, a noii hicendo, [light from no \nlight.] I cannot account for it in any other way. \n\nBy the way, I did not even find relics in the con- \ncordance to the Apocrypha. But Johnson has it. A \ndictionary, you know, takes in all words. I find the \ngeneral signification of the word to be remains. In \nthe Catholic church it is used to designate \" the re- \nmains of the bodies, or clothes, of saints or martyrs, \nand the instruments by which they were put to death, \ndevoutly preserved, in honor to their memory ; — \nkissed, revered, and carried in procession.\" This is \nthe best definition of relics I can any Avhere find. I \nam indebted for it to the Encyclopedia. But it is not \na perfect definition. There are some things preserved \nand revered as relics which don't exactly fall under \n\n\n\n96 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nit ; as, for example, the rope with which Judas hanged \nhimself, and the tail of Balaam's ass, both of which \nare kept and shown as relics. \n\nBut it may be asked if relics are not out of date. \nThe inquirer should know that nothing ever gets out \nof date with the Catholics. Always and every where \nthe same is their boast respecting their religion. Be- \nsides, in the Baltimore publication, \" the Guide to \nHeaven,\" notice is taken of relics. It says that the \nsaints are to be honored and invocated, and that their \nrelics are to be respected. Well, and Avhere is the \nharm of respecting relics ? I might retaliate and ask \nwhere is the use — what is the good of it ? They must \nthink that devotion is promoted by these relics. But \nI cannot see how the spirit of devotion is to be pro- \nmoted by contemplating St. Joseph's axe and saw, or \nthe comb of the Virgin Mary, or even the finger of \nSt, Ann. If a person even knows that he is handling \na piece of the identical wood of the cross, it does not \noccur to me how that is to enkindle the flame of piety \nin his heart. The ancient method of exciting the \nglow of devotion was quite different. It was by me- \nditation on spiritual subjects. It was while the Psalm- \nist was musing, that \" the fire burned \" within hira. \nBut it seems the Catholics come to the same thing by \nthe aid of their relics. Well, if devotion is kindled \nby relics, towards whom does it flame ? Towards the \nsaints, to be sure, whose relics they are. These re- \nmains can only remind them of those to whom they \nonce belonged. So that it is the religious veneration \nof saints, not the worship of Jehovah, that is promoted \nby relics. All that can be said for them is, that they \nserve the cause of idolatry. \n\n\n\nTHODGHTS ON POPERY. 97 \n\nBut I have been writing as if tliese relics were \ngenuine remains of the saints — the saw they show \nreally St. Joseph's, and the finger St. Ann's. The \nreader must excuse me for indulging such a supposi- \ntion. The very idea of such things being preserved, \nand transmitted through eighteen centuries, is prepos- \nterous. Their own Avriters acknowledge that many of \nthem are spurious — that bones are often consecrated, \nwhich, so far from belonging to saints, probably did \nnot belong to Christians, if indeed to human beings. \nIf this be so, how are we to know which are genuine? \nThere can be no internal evidence to distinguish \nthem. The bones of saints must look just like other \nbones. I know it is said there is an odor about the \ngenuine relics which does not belong to the remains \nof the vulgar dead. How that is I cannot say. I \nunderstand that, in the failure of the ordinary, external \nevidence, the Pope takes it on him to pronounce them \ngenuine. This is making short Avork of it. But some \nof the authorities of the church of Rome go so far as \nto say that it is not necessary the relics should be \ngenuine. It is enough that the worshiper has an in- \ntention of honoring the saints whose bones he sup- \nposes them to be. If this is correct doctrine, churches \nand chapels may be readily furnished with relics, and \nthe defect in this particular, which Catholics deplore \nin regard to many of their establishments, be supplied \nwithout going farther than the nearest graveyard. \n\nIf any one should still think that the relics may be \ngenuine, there is a consideration which, if I mistake \nnot, will carry complete conviction to his mind. It is, \nthat there are altogether too many of these relics, so \nthat some of them must be spurious. Fi^^ devout pil- \n\n9 \n\n\n\n93 TIIOUGIITS ON FOPERY. \n\ngrims happening to meet on their return from Rome, \nfound, on comparing their notes, that each had been \nhonored with a foot of the very ass upon which Christ \nrode to Jerusalem. Here were five feet for one ani- \nmal. Moreover, it is said that there are as many- \npieces of the timber of the true cross in different parts \nof Europe, as would supply a town with fuel for a \nwinter ! \n\nBut, say they, were not the bones of Joseph pre- \nserved, and afterwards removed to Canaan. Undoubt- \nedly they were. But they were all kept together in \na coffin, and they were removed, not to be worshiped, \nbut to be buried. Joseph, being persuaded that God \nwould visit his people, and bring them out of Egypt \ninto Canaan, enjoined it on them to take his remains \nalong Avith them, for he Avished them to repose in the \nland of promise. What this has to do with relics I \nhave not the discernment to perceive. How it bears \nany resemblance to the Catholic practice of disturbing \ncoffins and separating bone from bone, and cherishing \nthem as things to be revered, I cannot see. Yet no \nless a character than Cardinal Bellarmine appeals \nto this fact in support of their doctrine of relics. So \nalso they cite the case recorded in 2 Kings, 13: 21, of \nthe dead man that was revived by coming in contact \nwith the bones of Elisha. But how does this favor \nrelics ? The bones of Elisha were quietly reposing in \nthe place where they Avere laid at his death. Not one \ncf them had been touched. But if relies had been in \nvogue then, do you suppose the remains of such an \neminent saint as Elisha would have been left undis- \nturbed ? \n\nI was surprised to find that Bellarmine refers to \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 99 \n\nDeut. 34 : 6, in support of relics. It is that remarka- \nble passage in which the Lord is said to have buried \nMoses in a valley in the land of Moab, and that no \nman knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. I sup- \npose the cardinal would have us infer from this, that \nif the place of Moses' body had been known, it would \nhave been dug up and converted into relics. And \ntherefore the Lord took care it should not be known. \nThe devil, it seems, from Jude, 5: 9, contended for it \nfor some such purpose as this, but he was foiled. The \nreference to this passage strikes me as rather an un- \nhappy one. \n\nBut Avere not handkerchiefs and aprons brought \nfrom the body of Paul, and miracles thereby wrought? \nYes, but they were not relics. Paul was living. Be- \nsides, Avho does not see that those articles of dress \nwere but sig-ns to connect the miracles, in the minds \nof the people, with the person of God's inspired am- \nbassador ? Was any honor due to them ? Do we \nhear of their being preserved and revered? No. I do \nnot find them in any list of relics. They passed again \nimmediately into their former appropriate use as hand- \nkerchiefs and aprons. Finally, they appeal to the effi- \ncacy of the shadow of Peter, as related, Acts, 5 : 15, in \nproof of the virtue of relics. But as there appears to \nbe no substance in this argument, I leave it unanswer- \ned ; and have only to add, that I wonder not that infi- \ndels abound so in Catholic countries, when Christi- \nanity is held up before them as embracing and even \ngiving prominence to such doctrines as the veneration \nof relics, the invocation of saints, and many more like \nthem. \n\n\n\n100 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\n\n36. Seven Sacraments. \n\n\n\nWhat ! Seven ! How is this ? I read in the Bible of \nonly tivo. Whence have they the other Jive ? O, they \ncome from the other source of Christian doctrine, ti^a- \ndition. They were handed down. It is true, the apos- \nties iiyrote of only two sacraments ; but Catholics \nwould have us believe that they -preached and con- \nversed about five others : and those that heard them \nspoke of these sacraments to others ; and they to others \nstill ; and so the story passed from lip to lip, until the \nCouncil of Trent, I believe it was, concluded that \nsomething had better be written about these five extra \nsacraments. I Avonder that was never thought of be- \nfore. It is surprising that it never occurred to the \napostles, when they were writing their Epistles, to \nsay a syllable about these seven sacraments. It would \nseem to have been very thoughtless in them. I may be \nvery hard to please, but I cannot help feeling a desire \nto have Scripture, as well as unwritten tradition, in \nsupport of a doctrine or practice called Christian. I \nlike to be able to trace a doctrihe all the Avay back to \nthe Bible, and to find it originating in the very oracles \nof God themselves. Some think it sufficient, if they \ncan follow a doctrine back as far as the earlier fathers ; \nand especially if they can trace it to the Epistles of \nIgnatius. But this does not satisfy me. There are cer- \ntain other Epistles, rather more ancient, in which I \nwould like to find the doctrine. Ignatius was a very \ngood man, but he did not belong to the days of Paul \nby any means. Ignatius, Clemens, and all those good \nfathers, stood on the bank of the stream, but Paul and \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 101 \n\nhis associates sat around the fountain. These last saw \ntruth in its rise ; the others only saw it in its flow. \nTrue, they were near the source, but they were not \nat it ; and who knows not that a stream may be cor- \nrupted very near its source ? If I live eighteen or nine- \nteen miles distant from a certain fountain, whose \nstream passes by my residence, and I want to know \nwhether its waters have been corrupted, do I trace \nback the stream until I come within a mile or two of \nthe fountain, and there stop, concluding thai such as \nthe water is there, such it must be at the spring ? Do \nI not rather go all the way up to the fountain? Which \nought I to do ? It strikes me as very strange, that any \nshould suspend their search after truth a century or \ntwo this side of the Bible era. I think they should go \nall the way back to the Bible. \n\nBut I am wandering from my subject, which is the \nsacraments. What are those other Jive 7 One is mar- \nriage. What ! marriage a sacrament ! How does it \nanswer to the definition of sacrament ? What spiritual \nthing is signified by it ? Marriage is said to be \" ho- \nnorable in all,\" but nothing is said of its being a sa- \ncrament. If it be a sacrament, why are not priests, as \nwell as others, permitted to take this sacrament? \nWhy should the universal clergy be debarred the pri- \nvilege of this holy thing? Does its sacred character \nrender it unsuitable to those who fill the sacred office ? \n\nThe other day I was thinking — for, being a Protes- \ntant, I dare think even on religion — and this thought \noccurred to me : \" Is it possible that God has denied \nthe whole body of the clergy, of all nations and ages, \nthe privilege of knowing how he pitieth them that fear \nhira; and of approaching to the experimental know- \n\n9* \n\n\n\n102 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nledge of his exceeding readiness to give the Holy \nSpirit to them that ask him — the privilege, in other \nwords, of being able to feel the force of some of the \nmost touching representations which he has made of \nhis dispositions towards his creatures, founded on the \np'arental relation ?\" I read in the Bible that \" like as \na father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them \nthat fear him.\" Now, can it be sinful for a minister \nof Jesus Christ to know by experience (the only way \nin which it can be fully known) how a father pitieth, \nand how, consequently, the Lord pitieth his people? \nI think it is man, and not God, that constitutes this \na sin. Again, does God make this general appeal to \nhis creatures, \" If ye then, being evil, know how to \ngive good gifts unto your children, how much more \nshall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to \nthem that ask him !\" — and has he at the same time \nexcluded a large class of his creatures from the privi- \nlege of ever knowing how well disposed parents are \nto bestow good things on their children ? And has he \nlaid under this ban the very persons whom he has ap- \npointed to represent and testify of him to men ? Has \nhe appealed to the parental feelings of his creatures, \nand then forbidden a large and important class of \nthem to know what those feelings are ? This is rather \nmore than I can believe. \n\nA minister of Jesus Christ may decline the privi- \nlege of marriage in his own case — he may not use that \npower, as Paul, in his peculiar circumstances, did not, \nand as many a Protestant minister does not. This is \none thing ; but has God cut off the whole order of the \nclergy from even the right to marry? That is the \nquestion. And that is a very different thing. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 103 \n\n\n\n27 » Tx-ausubstantiotiou. \n\n\n\nBecause Christ says, in reference to the bread, \" This \nis my body,\" the Catholics contend that the bread is \nchanged into the body of Christ; and this they call \nTransubstantiation. And when we say that the pas- \nsage is not to be interpreted literally, but that the \nbread is merely indicated as the representative of \nChrist's body, they reply with wonderful confidence, \n\" Ah, but does he not say it is his body — does he say \nit represents his body merely — what authority have \nProtest.ints to bring in a figure here ?\" Now let me \nbe heard. I have no disposition to ridicule the doctrine \nof Transubstantiation, especially as it professes to be \nfounded on Scripture. I would give always a candid \nhearing to the claims of a doctrine which even seems \nto be held out of respect to the authority of the Bible. \nBut I must say that the Catholic does not carry his \nveneration for the Scriptures far enough ; or he is not \nconsistent in his interpretation of them. I think I can \nshow that, to be consistent with himself, he should be- \nlieve in many more than one Transubstantiation. Let \nhim turn to Luke, 22 : 19, 20. He reads in verse 19, \n\" This is my body.\" Therefore, he reasons, the bread \nbecomes the body of Christ. Very well. But read verse \n20 ; \" This cup is the new testament.\" Here is ano- \nther Transubstantiation. The cup or chalice becomes \nthe new testament. It is no longer gold or silver^ \nbut a testament or iinll ! Does not Christ say it is the \nnew testament ? What right have Catholics to bring \nin d^ figure here ? The cup is a will — Christ says so. \nTo be sure, if it were carried to a probate office, it \n\n\n\n104 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nwould be thought out of place, and an article for a sil- \nversmith to prove, rather than a judge of probate. But \nno matter for that. What if the senses do tell you that \nit is still a cup, and the body still bread, will you be- \nlieve those liars, the senses ? But if they are such liars \nas this would make them out to be, why should I ever \nbelieve them — why should I believe them, when they \ntell me that I see in the Bible those words : \" This is \nmy body ?\" That testimony of the senses the Catholic \nbelieves ; but if they lie about the body, still declaring \nit is bread, after it has ceased to be any such thing, \nwhy may they not lie in regard to the letters which \nspell '.' this is my body.\" Under the appeal ance of \nthese letters there may be something quite different, \neven as, under the appearance of bread in the Eucha- \nrist, is the body of Christ, as the Catholics affirm ! \n\nBut these are not the only instances of Transub- \nstantiation. The Bible is full of them. I find two cases \nof this change recorded in Revelation, 1 : 20 ; one in \nwhich certain stars become angels, and another in \nwhich certain candlesticks become churches. Do you \ndoubt if? Read for yourself : \"The seven stars are \nthe angels of the seven churches, and the seven can- \ndlesticks which thou sawest, are the seven churches.\" \nThe construction here is precisely similar to \" this is \nmy body.\" Christ is the speaker in each case, and he \nsays the stars are angels, and the candlesticks are\\ \nchurches. Who has any right to imagine a figure \nhere? \n\nPerhaps every body does not Imow that Transub- \nstantiation is an Old Testament doctrine. But, ac- \ncording to this mode of interpretation, it is St. Paul, \nin 1 Cor. 10 : 4, alluding to the rock which Moses \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 105 \n\nsmote in the wilderness, says, \" That rock was \nChrist\" — not it represented^ but it was Christ ! Away \nwith your figures. \n\nMany other examples of Transubstantiation might \nbe ffiven from the Old Testament. Let two remark- \nable cases suffice, of which Ave have an account in Ge- \nnesis, 41 : 26, 27 : \" The seven good kine are seven \nyears, and the seven good ears are seven years,\" &c. \nHere seven cows and seven ears of corn are changed \ninto seven years of three hundred and sixty -five days \neach ! \n\nI suppose I might find many hundred examples of \nthese Transubstantiations. Now, does the Catholic \nbelieve in all of them? He ought, most undoubtedly \nhe ought, on the same reason that he believes in one. \nLet him then either believe in them all, or else never \nadduce, \" this is my body,\" in proof of the Transub- \nstantiation held in his church. I wish Mr. H. or some \nbody else would set me right, if I err in this argument. \n\n\n\n38. Half a Sacrament. \n\nHalf a sacrament ! Who ever heard of such ajhing? \nA sacrament divided ! Yes, even so. The authorities \nof the Roman Catholic church. Pope, Council, &c. \nhave divided the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, \nwhich our Savior instituted the same night in which \nhe was betrayed ; and, ever since the Council of Con- \nstance, they have allowed the people only half of it. \n\n\n\n106 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nThey have told them that they must put up with the \nbread, for that they want the cup for themselves. But \ndid not Christ give the cup, in the original institution \nof the sacrament, to as many as he gave the bread ? \nYes, Christ did. So say Matthew, Mark, Luke, and \nPaul. He took the cup, they tell us, and gave it to them ; \nand Matthew adds that he said in giving it, \" Drink ye \nall of it.\" Let not this be omitted by any disciple. It \nwould seem as if Christ foresaw what the Constance \nCouncil was going to do, and therefore said, \" Drink \nye all of it.\" Rome might with more plausibility have \ndenied her laity the other half of the sacrament — the \nbread. After the command to take the cup, there fol- \nlows the reason ; observe it : \" For this is my blood of \nthe new testament, which is shed for many, for the \nremission of sins.\" Now the Catholics say that only \npriests were present on that occasion, and that the giv- \ning of the cup to them can be no precedent for giving \nit to the laity. But, though we should admit that they \nwere at that time priests, I want to know if the reason \nfor partaking of the cup does not apj)ly to others be- \nsides the clergy. Was not the ]jlood shed for the laity \nas well as for the clergy ? And if this is the reason \nwhy any should partake, it is equally a reason why all \nshould for whom the blood was shed. The precept and \nprivilege to drink is co-extensive with the reason an- \nnexed to it. Now I have not been in the habit of re- \ngarding the propitiatory death of Christ as a part of \nthe benefit of clergy — as one of the peculiar privileges \nof the priesthood. I object therefore to the restriction \nof the cup of blessing to the clergy. The symbol ot \nthe blood shed for many, for the remission of sins, I \nclaim to be mv privilege as truly as that of any priest. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS Oi\\ POPERY. 107 \n\nChrist did not shed his blood for the sons of Levi \nalone. \n\nYes, Christ gave it in both kinds — and what is more, \nthe Catholics themselves acknowledge that he did, and \nthat the primitive church administered it in both kinds, \nyet {hoc tamen noii obstante are their very words) \nthey appoint that the people shall receive it but in one \nkind, that is, notwithstanding Christ and the primitive \nchurch. And they declare them accursed who teach \nor practice otherwise. What is this but anathema- \ntizing Christ ? But surely they must have something \nto say in justification of their conduct in this respect. \nTo be sure they have. Do you not know that the Pope \nis the head of the church, and that he is infallible ; or \nif he is not, yet the firm Pope & Co. are 1 Yes, but \nthere was Pope Gelasiics, who lived a good while be- \nfore. He having heard of some Manicheans who re- \nceived the bread without the wine, decided that such \na dividing of one and the same sacrament might not \nbe done without a heinous sacrilege. Was not he head \nof the church too, and was not he infallible ? If he was \nnot, I wonder how he could transmit infallibility. \n\nThis withholding of the cup is one of the boldest \nstrokes of that church. I cannot help admiring the \ncourage it manifests. Who would have thought it \ncould have succeeded so well? I wonder they even \nundertook to carry this point. However, they have done \nit. There was some murmuring against it, to be sure. \nHuss and Jerome made a noise about it, but they just \nburnt them, and they made no more noise about it. \n\nBut are not Christians followers, that is, imitators \nof Christ ? O yes. But this withholding of the cup is \nnot doing like Christ. The Catholics say that Christ \n\n\n\n108 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nis with their church to the end of time. It strikes me, \nhowever, that he could not have been with them at \nthat point in the progress of time when the Council of \nConstance sat. \n\nI do not know what others think, but for my own \npart I don't believe that any power on earth has a \nright to limit a grant of Jesus Christ, or, in other \nwords, to take away what he has given. He said of \nthe cup, \" drink ye all of it\" — and I, for one, will do \nit, and I think all ought — and if the Catholics will \ncome over to us, they too shall have the cup of salva- \ntion. O, if I had the ear of the Catholics now, I \nwould not ask .them to confess their sins to me, but \nthere is a thing I would tell them : I would say. My \ndear Catholic brethren, you never remember Christ in \nhis sacrament. You only half remember him. He \nsaid, eat and drink in remembrance of me. You only \ndo one. You do not show the Lord's .death ; for Paul \nsays, \" as often as ye eat this bread and drink this \ncup, ye do show the Lord's death.\" It is only they \nwho do both that make this exhibition. Christ's \ndeath is not shown by the bread merely, but by both \nthe elements. I know your church says that the \nblood is in the body, and that, in taking one, both are \ntaken, for that \"Christ was entire and truly under \neach kind,\" as the council decrees. But how came \nChrist himself to know nothing of this ? Did he do a \nsuperfluous thing in giving the cup ? What if the \nblood is in the body, and the bread being changed \ninto the body, we take the one in taking the other, \nwe want the blood separated from the body, i\\ie \nblood shed. The blood of Christ is not an atone- \nment for sin, except as it is shed. Catholics, you \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. I09 \n\nnever celebrate the Lord's Supper. In the Lord's \nSupper there was a cup. In yours there is none. \nYou hold that the discourse in John, 6, relates to an \natonement, and there it is written, \" except ye eat the \nflesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have \nno life in you.\" Now, according to his own princi- \nples, you have no life in you, for you do not drink \nhis blood. The most you can be said to do is, that \nyou eat it in connection with his body ! One thing \nmore. Catholic brethren. There can be no such thing \nin reality as half a sacrament. To divide a sacrament \nis to destroy it. What follows then^ but that the \nwhole sacrament is taken from you ! Look at this — \njust fix your mind five minutes on this subject, and \nyou are, I do not say what, but you are no longer a \nCatholic. Five minutes. That is all. But you say, \nI must not doubt ; yet you may think, and God the \njudge will never condemn you for exercising your \nmind. \n\n\n\n29. Bxtreme Unction* \n\nWhen it looks as if one was going to die, then by \nall means let the priest be sent for : and when he has \ncome, let him receive the dying man's confession, (but \nif the priest should be long in coming, I Vv^ould advise \nhim to confess to God. I think it would answer as \nwell. Indeed I prefer that near way to pardon, to the \nother circuitous route) — and let him then in that ex- \ntremity anoint him with oil ! This is extreme unction \n\n10 \n\n\n\n110 tHOUGHTS ON POf£RY. \n\n— a sacrament — one of the seven! I think they must \nhave been at a loss to make up the seven, when they \npressed this into the service. \n\nThere don't seem to be a great deal of religion in it; \nnor indeed any excess of common sense. But to speak \nof it as constituting a preparation for death is really \nshocking. What ! a preparation for dying, and for \nmeeting and answering to God, procured by the in- \ntervention and unction of a human priest— done by \noil ! Truly this is an easy way of getting to heaven, \nparticularly where priests are plenty. I do not won- \nder that the Catholic religion is popular. This is in- \ndeed prophesying smooth things. We Protestants \nhave no such doctrine to preach. When we are \ncalled to see a sick person, we candidly acknowledge \nthat there is nothing we can do for him which shall \ninfallibly secure his salvation. We tell him what Jie \nmust do : that he must repent and believe in Christ : \nand then we ask God to undertake and do for bim. It \nis only on certain conditions that we can assure him \nof his salvation. The priests say that they can in- \nsure the person's salvation ; but to any such power as \nthat we do not pretend. \n\nBut have not the Catholics plain Scripture for their \ndoctrine of extreme unction ? If they have ; if it is \nwritten., and not merely handed dow7i, then I am at \nonce a believer in it. Let us see : they adduce two \npassages in support of their dogma, Mark, 6 : 13, and \nJames, 5 : 14. The first is historical. It affirms that \nthe apostles \" anointed with oil many that were sick \nand healed them.\" The other is hortatory. \" Is any \nsick among you 7 let hira call for the* elders of the \nchurch ; and let them pray over him, anointing him \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. Ill \n\nv/ith oil in the name of the Lord,\" that is, doing what \nthe apostles are represented by Mark as having donej \nand doing it, as appears from the next verse, with the \nsame end in view, viz. healing. Now, what authority \nfor the sacrament of extreme unction is there here J \nHere is indeed an anointing with oil by an ecclesias- \ntic. But who does not see in how many particulars, \nand how widely this anointing differs from the ex- \ntreme unction of the Catholics ? Their anointing pro- \nceeds on the supposition that the person is going to \ndie ; and could his recovery be foreseen, it would be \nomitted. But the anointing practised by the apostles \nand elders of the church was in order to the recovery \nof the person, and was in every case connected with \nhis recovery. Their anointing was the attendant and \ntol<en of a miraculous cure. It held precisely the \nsame place with Christ's making clay of spittle, and \nanointing therewith the eyes of the blind man ; or \nwith Naaman's being directed to go and wash seven \ntimes in Jordan. It was, like each of these, an exter- \nnal, and in itself inefficacious sign of a miraculous re- \ncovery ; and even now there is no objection to the use \nof the sign, if the thing signified is to be expected. \nLei the priests anoint with abundance of oil all their \nsick, if they can accompany that unction with such \na prayer of faith as shall save the sick. But if the \nmiraculous recoveries have ceased, let there be a do- \ning away of the sign. As soon as any sign becomes \ninsignificant^ let it cease to be used. Extreme unc- \ntion is now a sign of nothing. There was no use in \ngoing down into the pool of Bethesda after the angel \nhad ceased to pay his periodical visit to it. So in this \ncase, there being now no healing, there need be, and \nthere should be, no anointing. \n\n\n\n112 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nHow the priests now differ in their use of the cil \nfrom those whose successors they pretend to be ! The \napostles and elders anointed persons with a view to \ntheir living ; but the priests with a view to their dy- \ning. The former would not anoint, if they foresaw \nthe person was to die; the latter will not, if they fore- \nsee that he is to live. How at odds they are ! How \nScripture and tradition do quarrel ! And the worst of \nit is, there is no such thing as bringing about a recon- \nciliation between them. \n\nAmong the doctrines of the Catholic church, I am \nat a loss whether to give the palm to this or to purga- \ntory. Purgatory teaches the doctrine of salvation by \nfire. Extreme unction, the doctrine of salvation by \noil. There does not seem to be much Christianity in \neither. Extreme unction is, however, the smoothest \ndoctrine. Decidedly so. Jesus Christ came by water \nand blood. The salvation he proclaims is by these; \nand the sacraments he instituted, are Baptism and \nthe Lord's Supper. These signify something: the \n^Yst, regeneration ; the second, the propitiation made \nfor our sins. \n\n\n\n30. Dolus Penance. \n\n\n\nInsufferable I What ? Why, that the Catholic trans- \nlators of the Bible should render the Greek word, \nwhich signifies repentance, (metanoia,) by the phrase \ndoing penance ! I would not willingly be uncharita- \nble, imputing a bad motive where a good one might have \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 113 \n\nbeen present. But I must say that I know not how \nto reconcile this rendering of metanoia with their in- \ntegrity as translators. I cannot help believing that \nthey knew better. Could they have supposed that \nthey were selecting the most judicious method of con- \nveying the mind of the Spirit as expressed in that \nword, when they concluded on rendering it doing pen- \nance 7 Why, in the name of common sense, did they \nuse tioo English words (coining one of them more- \nover for the occasion) to convey the meaning of one \nGreek word ? Was there any necessity for it ? Was \nthere no single English word that would express the \nsense ? There was repentance^ the word adopted by \nthe translators of the common English Bible. What \nobjection lay to the use of that? Why was that passed \nby ; and especially why was it passed by in order to \ngive a preference to such a phrase as doing penance? \nIf they had disliked repentance, they might with more \npropriety have employed the word reformation. It \nwould seem as if they were anxious to avoid the use \nof any word Avhich expressed or implied either sorrow \nor amendment, and therefore they fixed on the phrase \ndoing penance. I am mistaken if these translators \nhave not a heavy account to give. This single ren- \ndering, if it were the only exceptionable one, would be \nas a millstone about the neck of that translation. Just \nthink of the false impression, and that on a point of \nthe highest moment, made on the minds of so many \nmillions by this one egregiously erroneous version. \n\nContemplate the state of the case. God, in pros- \npect of the judgment day, and by the terror of it, com- \nmands all men every where to do a certain thing, \nActs, 17: 30, 31 ; and Christ says that except they \n\n10* \n\n\n\n114 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndo it, they shall perish. Luke, 13: 3. This thing God \nexpresses by the Greek term metarioia. But all do \nnot understand Greek. Wherefore, for the admonition \nand instruction of those Catholics who read only the \nEnglish language, and who cannot be persuaded of \nthe sin of reading the Bible, it becomes necessary to \nrender that word into English. Certain persons un- \ndertake to do it, that is, to interpret the mind of God \nas expressed by metanoia. And what do they make \nit out to mean? Hear, hear ! Doing penance ! That \nis it, they say. \"Do the penance which your priest \nappoints, after you have made your confession to him, \nand that is all.\" It is no such thing. This is a mis- \nrepresentation of the Almighty. This is not the sub- \nject of the command and warning to which reference \nhas been made. And to suppose that it is on account \nof this that angels rejoice, i. e. Avhen a sinner does \npenance, is truly farcical. O what a translation ! \n\"There is joy in heaven over one sinner that does \npenance.\" Truly angels must be easily made to re- \njoice, if this be the case ! How it sounds ! How \noffensive to the very ear, and how much more to the \nenlightened judgment, is this rendering ! \" God com- \nmands all to do penance. Except ye do penance, ye \nshall all likewise perish. He is not willing that any \nshould perish, but that all should return to penance .'\" \nShocking ! Away with such a translation from the \nearth. The Douay Bible is not God's Bible ; for it \npurposely misrepresents him in a main point, viz: \non the article of repentance. Here is a translation of \nmetanoia implying no sorrow for sin, no change of \nmind, (which the word literally signifies,) nor any \nmoral reformation ; but only the doing of certain ex- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 115 \n\nternal, and generally puerile, things prescribed by a \npriest ; all which may be dons without any internal \nexercise — without any emotion of any kind. The \nword, according to the Catholics, makes no requisition \non the heart whatever. And truly, a man may be a \ngood Catholic without ever feeling any thing, unless \nit be the bodily pain of self-inflicted penance. And \nevery one knows that thinking is not necessary to con- \nstitute a good Catholic. Wherefore a man may be a \ngood Catholic without either thinking or feeling , that \nis, without any exercise of either mind or heart. All \nthat seems requisite is mechanical action. Maelzel, \nthe constructor of automatons, could almost make one. \nIs this uncharitable ? It is true^ and ought to be said. \nIt ought to be known and proclaimed that the religion \nof the church of Rome overlooks the reason^ con- \nscience^ and heart of man, addressing no appeal to \nthem, and indeed making no use of them. Is it then \nthe religion of the Holy Ghost ? Is this the Christi- \nanity of Christ? It cannot be. \n\nI ought perhaps to say that I fiiid, in one place in \nthe Douay Testament, the Greek metanoeite translated \ncorrectly, repent. It occurs in Mark 1 : 15. Whether \nit was done in a moment of relenting, or through in- \nadvertence, I cannot say. It was never repeated that \nI can find. Perhaps the translators had to do penance \nfor presuming to render the word in that one case cor- \nrectly. \n\nDo you not see what a difference it makes to the \npriests, if you give it out that repentance is the requi- \nsition ? Then a sinner will be saved if he repent, irre- \nspective of the priest. The great High Priest that is \npassed into the heavens will see to the case of every true \n\n\n\n116 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\npenitent. But if the requisition be doing penance, in \nthat case, there being something necessary which the \npriest prescribes, he has the poor sinner completely in \nhis power. It makes the salvation to depend on the \nact of the Utile low priest. Do you wonder that the \npriests insist on the translation do penance, and forbid \nthe people to read in a Bible which requires them to \nrepent ? \n\nThere is a precious note in the Douay connnected \nwith this subject, which may afford me a topic here- \nafter. \n\n\n\n31. Tlie Hardest Religion. \n\nAmong the compliments which our brethren of the \nChurch of Rome pay to their religion, this is one. \nThey say it is the hardest religion — that no other re- \nligion requires so much of its votary. Hence they \nwould have it inferred that theirs must be the divine \nand only true religion. The yoke being so hard, and \nthe burden so heavy, they must of course be Christ's. \n\nI shall examine this claim to the precedence in point \nof difficulty. And something I am prepared to concede \nto the Church of Rome on this score. There is a part \nof her faith which I acknowledge it is exceedingly \nhard to receive. It requires a powerful effort doubtless \nto believe the doctrine of transubstantiation, viz. that \nthe bread and wine of the sacrament are changed into \n♦ ♦ * what? The body and blood of Christ? Not \n\n\n\nTH0DGHT3 ON POPERY. 117 \n\nthat alone, bat also into his soul and divinity ! Yes, \nit is hard to believe it is so, when one sees it is not so, \nand knows it cannot be so. It is hard to disbelieve at \nwill those long-tried and faithful servants, the senses ; \nand especially that first of the five, the sight. There is \ndifficulty in the Catholic religion truly. It puts a tre- \nmendous strain on the mind. \n\nThere is also her doctrine about the necessity of bap- \ntism to salvation, which some of us find it very hard \nto believe. One reason of our difficulty is that that \ndoctrine bears so hard upon the heathen, and particu- \nlarly on the immense multitude of infants who every \nwhere die without baptism. According to the doctrine \nof Rome, that baptism is indispensable to salvation, \nthey are all lost just for the want of a little water ! \nPoor things, they fare no better than the thief on the \ncross who died without baptism. They get no farther \nthan Paradise the first day. It is a hard religion. This \ndoctrine is cruelly hard upon diildren ; as her doctrine \nthat money, by the purchase of prayers and masses, re- \nleases souls from Purgatory, is hard upon the poor. \n\nSo much for the difficulty of her faith. But all of \nthat is not so hard ; as for example, her doctrine of in- \ndulgences. It is never hard to be indidged. There is \nno hardship, but very great convenience for a delin- \nquent sinner to have such a bank to draAv upon, as the \naccumulated merits of the saints in by-gone ages, who \ndid more than they needed for their own salvation, \nhaving loved God with considerably more than \" all \nthe heart, and soul, and strength, and mind !\" This \ndoctrine does not make the Roman Catholic religion \na hard one — neither does the doctrine of venial sins. \nYou know they hold that there are some sins whose \n\n\n\n118 THOUGHTS ON' POPERY. \n\nAvages is not death. They arc excusable — mere pec- \ncadillos. We recognise no such sins. We think with \nSt. Paul, that \" cursed is every one that continueih \nnot in all things which are written in the book of the \nlaw to do them.\" \n\nBut perhaps when the Catholics speak of their re- \nligion as a hard one, they refer not so n:uch to its faith \nas to its practice. It is what they have to do that is \nso hard. But why do they speak of it as hard ? It looks \nas if it was a task to them — as if they do not find their \nsweetest and purest delight in it. It would appear as \nif they did not esteem the service of God as much their \nprivilege as their duty. One would suppose, to hear \nthem talk, that the commandments of God are grievous. \nI am truly sorry for them that Christ's yoke, which, he \nsays, is easy, they find to be so galling to them. We, \nProtestants, never think of speaking of our religion as \nhard. \"Wisdom's ways\" we find to be \"pleasant- \nness, and all her paths peace.\" Our language is : \" O \nhow love I thy law ! How sweet are thy words unto \nmy taste ! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth !\" \nBut it seems not to be so with Catholics. I have been \nstruck with surprise to hear even the most devout of \nthem speak of the requirements of their religion as \nthings which they viust comply with. \" I must,\" is \nthe language which they use in reference to almost \nevery thing of a religious kind that they do. I have \nthought with myself how it is possible that their hearts \ncan be in their religion, if they esteem it such a hard- \nship. How will heaven be able to make them happy, \nif the exercises and acts on earth, most akin to those \nof heaven, are so irksome that they engage in them \nonly from sheer necessity ? \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POFERY, 119 \n\nBut I must advert to some of the hard practices \nwhich the Catholic religion requires of her votaries. \nThere is that practice of confessing to the priest. Is \nnot that hard ! Truly it is. I think I should find it \nhard to tell every thing, even the most secret thoughts, \nto any body called a priest. And then to have to per- \nform whatever penance he might please to prescribe. \nYes, it is hard — so hard, and so absurd too that God \nhas never required it at our hands. He says to the \nsinner, come right to me with your broken heart, and \nmake your confession to me, for he is \" in Christ re- \nconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their \ntrespasses unto them.\" \n\nAgain, fasting is reckoned among the hard things \nof the Catholic religion — and indeed it is hard not to \neat when one is hungry. But that is not their idea of \nfasting. Their idea of fasting is in accordance with \nwhat St. Paul says to Timothy in his prediction con- \ncerning them, an \" abstairmig from meats,^^ or \" what- \nsoever is sold in the shambles.\" ' Now there is nothing \nso very hard in that restriction. He must be very dif- \nficult who cannot satisfy his appetite out of all the va- \nriety of the vegetable kingdom, when he has more- \nover the liberty of the entire fish market. \n\nBut there is one thing about the Catholic religion, \nin view of which I suppose I must admit it to be the \nhardest religion. It belongs strictly neither to faith \nnor practice. You will guess that I have in my mind — \nPurgatory. Now, as a doctrine, there are many things \nabout it hard to be believed, as, for example, that ma- \nterial fire should be able to act on an immaterial spirit, \nand thereby purify it too. But hard as purgatory is to \nbe believed, it is still harder to be suffered. Yes, it is \n\n\n\n120 THOHGHTS 0*J rOPERY. \n\nhard, after having gone through the whole routine of \nthe sacraments, and lived long a good Catholic, then \nto die, and go into an intense fire. It is so hard that I, \nfor my part, prefer the religion of poor Lazarus, whom \nthe angels took straight to heaven ; and of the penitent \nmalefactor, who spent a part of the day on Avhich he \ndied, in Paradise. By the way, St. Paul could not \nhave been thinking of Purgatory when he said, \" to \nme to die is gain^ But I forget that he lived before \nthe time of the Catholic religion. \n\n\n\n32. More about Penance. \n\nLet us hear both sides. In my former article on this \nsubject, I objected to the translation doing penance, \nin the Douay Bible. But have the Catholics nothing \nto say in justification of their rendering? I suppose \nthat whatever they have to say is expressed in a cer- \ntain note on Matthew, 3:2. \" Do penance, for the \nkingdom of heaven is at hand,\" is the edifying trans- \nlation of the passage. Our attention is then directed \nto this note, \"agite posnitentiara, metanoeite,\" which \nword, according to the use of the Scriptures and the \nholy fathers, does not only signify repentance and \namendment of life, but also \" punishing past sins by \nfasting and such like penitential exercises.\" This is \nthe sage note. \n\nNow here is an acknowledgment that the ideas of \nrepentance and amendment are intended in the ori- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 121 \n\ngiaal word. Why then is a translation of it adopted, \nwhich excludes both repentance and amendment. If \nthe original includes them, yet their translation does \nnot. A man may do penance, and yet neither repent \nnor amend — neither be sorry nor better. These trans- \nlators must have thought that repentance and amend- \nment, though included in the original word, were of \nlittle importance, otherwise they would not have sup- \npressed them in their translation. They must have \njudged them too insignificant to be taken notice of in \ntheir standard version ! As for us Protestants, we \nthink that to he sorry and to reform are very impor- \ntant parts of repentance. \n\nBut, besides repentance and amendment, they say \nthe original word signifies \" punishing past sins, by \nfasting,\" &c. This is their assertion. Where are \ntheir proofs ? I would like to see some of them, for \nthe dictionaries tell us another story. Well, they ap- \npeal to the Scriptures and the fathers, \" according to \nthe use of the Scriptures and the holy fathers.\" Here \nare two authorities, though of very unequal weight \nin my estimation. I wish these translators had said \n\"where the Scriptures use this word in their sense. I \nsuppose they would, if they had been able. The truth \nis, the word is never so used. It does not include this \nidea of theirs. Punishing ! Repentance don't mean \npunishing. Punishing past sins ! This is no very \neligible phrase. It is quite too figurative for an ex- \nplanatory note. And punishing them, how? By fast- \ning. Hov^r does fasting punish sin? I cannot see \nhow any fasting punishes sin; but I am sure the Cath- \nolic fasting does not. Do you know what Catholics \nmean by fasting ? Not abstaining from food. No, ta \n\n11 \n\n\n\n122 THOUGRTS ON POPEBY. \n\nbe sure. But changing their kind of food. Only ab- \nstain from meats, according to the prediction, 1 Tim. \n4: 3, and you may eat what else you please. Fasting, \naccording to the opinions held by Catholics in the re- \ngion of country where I live, and I suppose it is so \nelsewhere, consists in reducing one's self down to the \nlow diet of Jish, (after all their kinds,) eggs, oysters, \nterrapins, with all manner of vegetables, and every \nvariety of desert ! That is fasting, because there is \nno butchers' meat eaten. You may eat what is sold \nanywhere else but in the shambles. Now I cannot \nsee any thing very punitive in svxli fasting. A man's \nsin must be exceedingly sensitive to feel the infliction \nof such abstinence. 1 do not believe that sin is to be \nstarved out of the soul in this way. \n\nIt is well enough sometimes to try the value of an \nexplanation upon a passage in which the thing ex- \nplained occurs, as for example, \" God now command- \neth all men every where to punish their past sins by \nfasting and such like penitential exercises.\" How \ndoes that sound? Do you really think that it is what \nthe Lord meant. \n\n\n\n33. A Fast-Day Dinner. \n\nSome plain, honest people may be surprised at the \nheading of this article, because it implies a dinner of \nsome sort on a day of fasting, whereas, according to \ntheir old-fashioned notions there should be no dinner \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 123 \n\nat all on a fast day. And truly fasting did formerly \nimply 'partial^ at least, if not total abstinence from \nfood during the period of the fast. ^It was thought \nthat eating to the full was incompatible with genuine \nfasting. Indeed it was considered that eating at all \nbroke a fast. I suppose no one doubts that Daniel, \nNeherniah, Ezra, and the pious Jews in general, ab- \nstained entirely from food on their days of fasting. \nWho has an idea that they ate any dinner on those \ndays? But mind has marched a great way since \nthose men flourished. Whether its march has always \n\\ie&]\\ forward^ I leave others to determine. Now^ ac- \ncording to the views which prevail in that church \nwhich cannot go wrong, and Avhich don't make mis- \ntakes even when she contradicts herself, abstinence \nis not essential to a fast ; and a fast-day dinner, so \nfar from being no dinner at all, as some puritanical \nchristians still contend it should be, is a rare repast — \none of the very best dinners in the whole week. I \nought to say here that some Protestants have imbibed \nthis doctrine of the infallible church, and very com- \nplacently practice according to it. We have a great \nmany Protestants among us who do not protest as \nthoroughly or as strenuously as we think they should. \nWhat put me in mind of this subje.ct was the fol- \nlowing incident. As I was sitting at table the other \nday, the topic of conversation was a very delicate pre- \nparation of eggs. I took no particular interest in it, \nuntil one of the company remarked that when she re- \nsided in the family of Mr. A., a distinguished Catholic, \nthat dish was always a part of their fast-day dinner. \nThis arrested my attention. Fast-day dinner! ex- \nclaimed I. Who ever heard of a dinner on a fast-day ? \n\n\n\n124 THOUGHTS ON POPERY, \n\nIt is not possible they have a dinner at Mr. A.'s on \nfast-days ! Dinner ! replied the person. I never desire \nto eat a better. This made me curious to enquire what \nconstituted the fast-day di\"nner at Mr. A.'s table. Well, \nsaid she, to begin, a rock fish dressed with eggs and \nbutter, (no mean affair this where there is an appe- \ntite,) eggs prepared, in two ways, and oysters. They \ndispense with vegetables I presume, said I. O no, she \nrejoined ; and to this I readily assented, for I had for- \ngotten myself in supposing that they dispensed with \nvegetables. Timothy does not prophecy of the anti- \nchrist that he shall command to abstain from vegeta- \nbles, but only from ^^ meats, which God hath created \nto be received with thanksgiving.\" Well, surely, said I, \nthey have no desert on their fast-days '? How you talk, \nsaid she; they have the very best, and every variety. \nAnd do they call that ?l fast-day dinner? and do they \nsuppose that they fast when they eat it? Certain- \nly, said she. Well, I suppose it is because they eat \nvery sparingly of what is set before them. You are \nmistaken, replied my informant, quantity has nothing \nto do in the matter. It is not the quantity eaten that \nconstitutes a fast, but the kind. There the conversa- \ntion ended, but my thoughts proceeded on. And this, \nthought I, is fasting. So the church teaches, and mil- \nlions on their way to the judgment believe it. What \ndupes ! how deceived to suppose that this is fasting. \nIf not deceived themselves, what insulters of God, to \nendeavor to palm it off on him as fasting ! A change \nof food is fasting ! To eat differently on one day \nfrom what we do on other days, is to keep a fast I \nAdmirable doctrine ! \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 125 \n\n\n\n3^. Tlie Masg. - \n\nThere is a great deal of the phraseology of the Ro- \nmish church which is not a little peculiar, not to say \noutlandish. The Christian reader who is not very- \nfamiliar with other authors than those who by inspi- \nration wrote the Bible, does not know what to make \nof these terms when he comes across them in books \nprofessing to treat of Christianity. \" The mass, the \nmass,\" he repeats to himself, \" what is that ?\"' He has \nread his Bible through and through, but he has found \nnothing about the mass there. He thinks it ought to \nbe there, if it is any part of Christianity. Why should \napostolical Christians have been silent on a subject \non which those who claim to be their direct descend- \nants are so loquacious ? He does not even meet in \nhis Bible with any doctrine or rite to which the word \nmass seems at all appropriate. He would not object \nto the word, if he could find the thing there. It never \noccurs to him that by the mass Catholics can mean \nthe transaction recorded by Matthew in his 26th chap- \nter, and by three other sacred writers, and which we \ncommonly speak of as the institution of the Lord's \nSupper. But that is what they mean by it. Then, \nthey tell us, the first mass was said. In the Douay \nCatechism we find these questions and answers : \nQ. Who said the first mass ? A. Jesus Christ. \nQ. When did he say it ? A. At his last supper. Here \nit is, question and answer for it, if not chapter and \nverse. The Biblical reader will please to bear in \nmind, whenever hereafter he reads the narrative of \n\n\n\n126 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe transaction, that the writer is giving an account \nof the first mass that was ever said ! \n\nBut they may call it mass, if they please, and they \nmay speak of Christ's instituting the ordinance as his \nsaying mass. Words are nothing, though it is cer- \ntainly best that they should, be well chosen and fitly \napplied. If they mean by their mass what we mean \nby the Lord's Supper, that is the main point. But the \ntruth is, they mean by it as different a thing as you \ncan wrII imagine. Just hear what \" the Christian's \nGuide\" says on the subject: \"I profess likewise, that \nin the mass there is offered to God a true, proper and \npropitiatory sacrifice for the living and the dead.\" \nChrist offered it first when he said mass, and every \npriest now offers it when he says mass. Well, read- \ner, you and I must not judge rashly. We will look \nagain at the account given of the matter in the Bible, \nand we will see if we can find in it any thing of the \nnature of a sacrifice. He \" took bread and blessed, \nand brake and gave it to the disciples, and said. Take, \neat.\" And then he took the cup and gave it. Where \nis any sacrifice here, and especially where is any pro- \npitiatory sacrifice ? Does the account we have of \nsacrifices in the Old Testament, and in the epistle to \nthe Hebrews, accord with what was done on this oc- \ncasion? The Catholics say that when Christ perform- \ned these actions with the bread and wine, he offered \nhimself to God as a propitiatory sacrifice. How \ndoes what he did, bear even the least resemblance to \nthe offering of a propitiatory sacrifice ? There was no \nbloodshed — no life taken, as was the case in all pro- \npitiatory sacrifices under the law, and in the sacrifice \nwhich Christ made of himself on the cross, and which \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 127 \n\nhas always, by Pagans, as well as the disciples of the \ntrue religion, been considered as essential to a j^f^o- \npitiatory sacrifice. I confess there was something \noffered. Bread and wine were offered. These might \nconstitute a eucharistic sacrifice, but never a propi- \ntiatory one. If things of this kind can constitute a \npropitiatory sacrifice, then I do not see why Cain, Avho \noffered \" of the fruit of the ground,\" was not accepted \nequally with Abel who brought to the Lord \" of the \nfirstlings of his flock.\" But whatever was offered, it \nwas not offered to God. A sacrifice, to be a sacrifice, \nmust be offered to God, as even the quotation from \nthe Christian's guide recognizes. But what was of- \nfered in this case was offered to the disciples. \"Take, \neat,\" he said to them. It is true the bread and wine \nwere offered them as the memorial of a sacrifice in \nwhich the body of Christ was to be broken and his \nblood shed ; but the memorial of a sacrifice is not a \nsacrifice. The emblematical representation of a thing \nis not the'thing itself. Plainly there was no sacrifice \nin this transaction. \n\nBut again : if Christ in the eucharist offered him- \nself a sacrifice to God, as they affirm ; and afterwards, \nas all admit, offered himself on the cross, then he tioice \noffered himself; and if so, the writer of the epistle to \nthe Hebrews was under a great mistake, for he says, \n\" Christ was 07ice offered to bear the sins of many,\" \n\" we are sanctified through the offering of the body of \nJesus Christ once for allP'' Heb. 9 : 28, and 10 : 10. \nHere is a contradiction. Which shall we believe? \nThe apostle of the Gentiles or the Catholic church ? \nIf Christ really offered himself in the eucharist — on \nthe tahle^ as Catholics contend — there was no need \n\n\n\n128 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nof his offering himself on the cross. His twice offer- \ning himself was quite unnecessary. If \" in the mass \nthere is offered to God a true, proper, and propitia- \ntory sacrifice,\" what need of another on Calvary ? \nOne \" true, proper, and propitiatory sacrifice \" is all \nthat is wanted. \n\nBut if the Catholic doctrine be true, Christ has been \noffered not twice only, but innumerable times. In \nevery mass that ever has been said, he has been of- \nfered. He is offered to-day as really as he was on \nthe day of his crucifixion. He is offered on earth \nwhile he is interceding in heaven. Both parts of the \npriest's office, the propitiation and the intercession, \nare going on at the same time — a thing unheard of in \nthe history of the priesthood ! Did the Jeivish high \npriest, the type of Jesus, our great high priest, exe- \ncute both parts of his office at the same moment? \nMoreover, according to this doctrine, there was no \npropriety in Christ's saying on the cross, \" It is finish- \ned,\" for it is not finished yet, nor will it be, till the \nlast mass is said. It depends on the will of the priest \nwhen it shall be finished. This to me is shocking \ndoctrine. What ! Can a priest cause Christ to be of- \nfered just when he pleases ? My mind recoils from \nthe conviction. There is what by a figure is called \nthe \"crucifying of the Son of God afresh,\" but this \nappears like doing it literally. \n\nI know the Catholics make a distinction here. They \nsay, and let them be heard, that Christ in the eucha- \nrist is offered in an unbloody manner, while the sa- \ncrifice of the cross was bloody. And this distinction \nthey lay great stress on. But I wonder they see not \nthe consequence of this explanation — that if the sacri- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 129 \n\nfice is unbloody, it cannot be propitiatory, which, ne- \nvertheless, they say it is. Unbloody, yet propitiatory ! \nWho ever heard of an unbloody propitiatory sacrifice? \nWhat Jew ? What Pagan ? A propitiatory sacrifice, \nbe it remembered, is a sacrifice for atonement — a sa- \ncrifice with a -view to the remission of sins. This all \nacknowledge. But \" without shedding of blood is no \nremission,\" Heb. 9 : 22 — consequently no propitiatory \nsacrifice. Now here is no shedding of blood, they \nsay; yet remission is effected by it ! It is a propitia- \ntory sacrifice, notwithstanding. Who does not see \nthe contradiction? They must take back their admis- \nsion that it is unbloody, or else acknowledge that it is \nnot propitiatory. They cannot hold to both without \nself-contradiction. \n\nThe reader sees that this doctrine of the Catholic \nchurch subverts that great principle in the divine go- \nvernment, that \" without shedding of blood is no re- \nmission\" — a principle not merely inscribed on the \npage of the Bible, but written with the finger of God \non the mind of man. The conscience of the veriest \npagan reads it there ? If a sacrifice may be prqpitia- \ntory, though unbloody, never a victim that bled under \nthe Jewish economy, need have been slain ; a7id \nChrist need not have died ! The doctrine of the mass \ntherefore, that a sacrifice may be propitiatory, though \nbloodless, undermines the Gospel. \n\nOne inference more from their doctrine I must not \nforget. It is this. If in the eucharist a propitiatory \nsacrifice is offered, then a propitiatory sacrifice may be \neffected by mere action. No passion whatever is ne- \ncessary to it — expiation is made without any suffer- \ning — made by a mere doing ! Is this truth ? Can an- \n\n\n\nISO THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ntiquiiy be pleaded for this doctrine ? Can that be the \noldest religion which cherishes and teaches it? \n\nThere is no sacrifice in what is improperly called \nthe mass — least of all z. propitiatory sacrifice. The \ndoctrine is error — error in a capital particular — on a \nfundamental point — gross and most pernicious error. \nWhat then shall we think of a church which not only \ninculcates it, but gives it the greatest prominence, and \nmakes the service connected with it the main thing in \nits religion? I have my thoughts. The reader must \nhave his. \n\nI reserve some things on the mass for a future com- \nmunication. \n\n\n\n33. More about tlic Mass. \n\nBut before I proceed to the Mass, I wish to a Id a \nword about relics. In my communication on that \nsubject, I referred to Bellarmine as quoting from the \nOld Testament in support of the doctrine of relics. \nSince then, I have recollected a fact which makes me \nwonder that a Catholic should ever appeal to the Old \nTestament for authority in favor of relics. The reader \nprobably knows that no relics are more common among \nthe Catholics, and none more highly valued than the \nhones of deceased saints and martyrs. Now, if Num- \nbers, 19: 16, be consulted, it will be found that under \nthe Jewish dispensation, if a person so much as touch- \ned the bone of a man, he was ceremonially unclean \nfor seven days, and had to submit to a tedious pro- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 131 \n\ncess of purification before he could be restored to the \nprivileges of God's worship, from which he had been \ntemporarily excluded in consequence of that contact. \nThis being the case, it is pretty certain that the bones \nof the dead were not handled and cherished as relics \nby the pious Jews, as they are by our Catholics. There \nwas nothing which the Israelite more carefully avoid- \ned than some of those very things which are now \ncarried about and shown as relics. Therefore, I say, \nit is not best to go so far back as the Old Testament \nfor testimony in favor of relics. \n\nNow let us to the mass again. It is known, I sup- \npose, that they quote Scripture in favor of the mass. \nThat circumstance however proves nothing. Scrip- \nture is not always aptly quoted. It should be remem- \nbered by those who are prone to think it in favor of a \ndoctrine, that its abettors appeal to the Bible in its \nsupport, that Scripture was once quoted by a celebra- \nted character to prove the propriety of the. Son of \nGod casting himself down from the pinnacle of the \ntemple. It is always advisable to refer to the quota- \ntion, and see for ourselves if it makes in favor of the \ndoctrine. The principal passage which the Catholics \nadduce in support of their mass, is that concerning \nMelchizedek, in the 14th chapter of Genesis, Abra- \nham and his armed servants were on their return from \n\" the slaughter of the kings,\" when they were met by \nthis distinguished personage. The record of the oc- \ncurrence is as follows : \" And Melchizedek, king of \nSalem, brought forth bread and wine ; and he was the \npriest of the Most High God. And he blessed him.... \nAnd he gave him tithes of all.\" Here is the text, \nreader. Now the doctrine deduced from it is this that \n\n\n\n132 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\n\" in the mass there is offered to God a true, proper, and \npropitiatory sacrifice for the living and the dead.\" \n\na. E. D. \n\nDo not smile at the incongruity of the text and the \ndoctrine — the distance of the conclusion from the \npremises. Sacred things are to be handled seriously. \nI know the reader only smiles at the logic of the \nthing. But he should remember that they do the best \nthing they can, v/hen they quote this passage in favor \nof their mass. If there were other Scripture more \nappropriate and to the point than this, they would \nquote it. I have no doubt the intelligent Catholic is \nashamed of this reference to the Bible in behalf of the \nmass. He sees that it has no bearing on the case. \nIt is not to compare in point of appropriateness with \nthe tempter's quotation referred to above. \n\nJust observe ^r5^, that it was as king, not as priest, \nthat Melchizedek brought forth the bread and wine. \n\" Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought forth bread \nand wine.\" It was an act of royal bounty — an exer- \ncise of kingly hospitality. True, it is said immedi- \nately after, that he was a priest as well as a king ; but \nthat is said in reference to what follows, not what \nprecedes. \" And he was priest of the Most High \nGod. And he blessed him.\" In his capacity of king \nhe brought forth bread and wine. In the exercise of \nhis priestly office he blessed Abraham. To bless, we \nIniow, was one part of the priest's office. Numbers, 6 : \n23. His bringing forth bread and wine had nothing to \ndo with his being a priest. What proves this view of \nthe passage correct is, the manner in which the author \nof the Epistle to the Hebrews refers to it. Iji his \nseventh chapter he introduces Melchizedek as a priest. \n\n\n\nTHOtTGHTS ON POPERY. 133 \n\nand in that character as the model of Christ's priest- \nhood ; and he speaks of his blessing Abraham, but \nsays not a word about his bringing forth bread and \nwine. Why is not this circumstance— this most ma- \nterial circumstance, according to the Catholic notion, \nalluded to, if in it he acted as a priest and as the sa- \ncerdotal type of Christ ? Why does the apostle, when \nspeaking of him as a priest, mention only his benedic- \ntion of Abraham? Now if, as I think it is manifest, \nhe brought forth bread and wine not in the exercise of \nhis office as priest, it overturns the Catholic argument \nat once. \n\nBut secondly, consider what in all human proba- \nbility was the object of the bread and wine. Would \nany one, in reading the passage, suppose it could have \nbeen for any other purpose than refreshment ? What \nan idea ! to come out to a people returning famished \nand weary from the toils of conflict, with a sacrifice — \na propitiatory sacrifice too — the mass — with bread and \nwine, not to be eaten and drank, but to be offered to \nGod ! What more unnatural than such a supposi- \ntion ! On the other hand what more natural, and \nproper than to bring forth, for those fatigued soldiers, \n''wine that makelh glad the heart of man, and bread \nwhich strengtheneth man's heart,\" to refresh them ? \nIt was just what, under the circumstances, they needed. \n\nIn further proof of the correctness of this view of \nthe passag^e, we find that Abraham recognized the \npriesthood of Melchizedek, not by receiving bread \nand wine at his hands, but by giving him tithes. \n\"And he gave him tithes of all.\" \n\nWe see then there is no proof of any sacrifice in \nthis transaction. There was nothing offered to God. \n\n12 \n\n\n\n134 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nWhat was offered, was to Abraham and his company. \nBut if the offering was to God, it could but constitute \nan eucharistic sacrifice. Bread and wine might be \noffered as thank-offerings. But a bloodless propitia- \ntory sacrifice was unknown under the Old Testament. \nWhatev^er view we take of the passage, it cannot \nmake for the mass. That which was offered was \nonly bread and wine. The Catholics do not pretend \nthat they were changed into the body and blood of \nChrist. Melchizedek lived nearly 20C0 years before \nChrist had a body. How could transubstantiation \ntake place so long before the incarnation ? But if sim- \nple bread and wine were offered, then the act of Mel- \nchizedek, if any thing more than an example of \nhospitality, was rather the model of the Protestants' \nLord's Supper, than the Roman Catholic's mass. — \nAnd here it may be observed, that Melchizedek dees \nnot seem to have denied the cup to the laity, as later \npriests have done. no, it was the Council of Con- \nstance, in the 15th century, that established that custom. \nBut Catholics have another argument from Scrip- \nture in favor of their mass. It is derived from the \nperpetuity of Christ's priesthood. If, say they, Christ \nis a priest forever, and \" every high priest is ordained \nto offer gifts and sacrifices,\" there must be a perpetual \nsacrifice, else he would be a priest without exercising \npriestly functions. But do they not see that this is to \nsuppose Christ a priest after the order of Aaron, and \nnot after that of Melchizedek? It is true the Aaronic \npriests offered sacrifice during the whole term of their \npriesthood. They stood \" daily ministering, and offer- \ning oftentimes the same sacrifices.\" But what is said \nof Christ? He '• needeth not daily, as those high \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 135 \n\npriests, to offer up sacrifice for this he did once, \n\nwhen he offered up himself.\" And again: \"But \nthis man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins, \nforever sat down on the right hand of God.\" Yet the \nCatholics say he needeth daily to offer up sacrifice, \nand that he, as well as the Aaronic priests, offers of- \ntentimes the same sacrifices ! They make Christ to \nresemble the Jewish priests in those very particulars \nin which the apostle says he stands in contrast to \nthem ! \n\nAs to Christ's being a priest /oreuer, if that means \nany thing more than is expressed in Heb. 7 : 24, \nwhere he is said to have \"an unchangeable priest- \nhood,\" that is, a priesthood that passes not from one \nto another, as did the Aaronic, it is explained in the \nsucceeding verse, where it is said that \"he ever liveth \nto make intercession.\" He is a priest forever, because \nhe ever liveth to make intercession. It is not at all \nnecessary that he should ever live to offer sacrifice, in \norder to his being a priest forever. Intercession is \nas much a part of the priest's office as sacrifice. And \nhere I would ask whether the Jewish high-priest was \nnot as much a priest vvrhen he went into the most holy \nplace to sprinkle the blood of the sacrifice, and to burn \nincense, as when, before he entered, he was engaged \nin offering the sacrifice ? Undoubtedly he was. He \noffered no sacrifice while he was in the holy place. \nHe went in for another purpose altogether. So Christ, \nthe great antitype, has entered \" not into the holy \nplaces made with hands, w^hich are the figures of the \ntrue ; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the \npresence of God for us.\" And there he remains. He \nhas never come out. He had no need to come out to \n\n\n\n136 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\noffer another sacrifice, as the Jewish high-priest had. \n\"By one offering he hath perfected forever them that \nare sanctified.\" Were another sacrifice necessary, he \nwould return in person to earth to offer it ; nor would \nit be \" under the form of bread and wine,\" for the \napostle argues, in Heb. 9 : 25, 26, that he must suffer \nas often as he offers himself — that he cannot be offered \nwithout suffering. Yet the Douay Catechism says \nhe \"continues daily to offer himself.\" He is sacri- \nficing, according to them, while he is interceding — \nsacrificing in the place appropriated to intercession, \nand offering himself without suffering ! The Bible \ntells us, \" Christ was once offered,\" but that \" he erer \nliveth to make intercession.\" It makes the perpetuity \nof his priesthood to consist in his intercession. The \nCatholic doctrine, on the other hand, teaches us that \nhe is continually offered, and therefore a priest for- \never. And yet they appeal to the Bible in proof of \ntheir doctrine ! \n\n\n\n36. The Host. \n\n\n\nHere is another of the peculiar terms of the Cath- \nolic religion, Protestants commonly use the word to \nsignify an army, or a great multitude. But Catholics \nmean by it one thing. It is the name they give to the \nconsecrated wafer in the Eucharist. Wafer! What \nhas a wafer to do with the Eucharist? We read that \nour Saviour took bread and blessed, and break, and \ngave it to his disciples ; but we read nothing about \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 137 \n\nany wafer. If by wafer the same thing is meant, \nwhich we mean by bread, yet why this change of \nnames ? Why not call it what Christ called it ? Why \nseek to improve upon things as they were left by him? \n\nWhen the wafer, the thin piece of bread, is conse- \ncrated; that is, when a blessing has been invoked, and \nthanks have been given, for that is all that Christ \ndid, (the same precisely which he did when he fed the \nmultitudes ; in which case not even Catholics contend \nthat there was any transubstantiation of the bread \ninto another substance; and if no such effect was pro- \nduced on that bread by the blessing and thanksgiv- \ning, how should the same produce such an effect on \nthe bread of the sacrament?) then it is no longer \ncalled a wafer. It is true, St. Paul calls it the same \nafterwards that he called it before. But not so the \nCatholics. Now they call it the host, a word derived \nfrom the Latin hostia, signifying victim, or sacrifice. \n\nBut why change its name ? And above all, why give \nit so different a name? One minute to call a thinsr a \nwafer, and the next a victim, a sacrifice ! and when \nnothing but a prayer has intervened. Has it become \nso different a thing that it deserves so different a \nname 7 I know the Catholics say a great change has \ntaken place in its nature, and therefore it ought to \nhave a new name. Well, I am open to conviction. \nWhen a great change has taken place in any thing, \nsuch a change that the original substance of the thing \nhas totally departed, which is the greatest change \nany thing can undergo, it commonly appears to the \nsenses different from what it did before. But the \nwafer and the host look exactly alike, and they smell \nalike, and taste and feel precisely alike. The form \n\n12 * \n\n\n\n138 THOUGHTS ON FOPERY. \n\nis the same it was before ; and by every test by which \nthe substance can be examined, it is found to be the \nsame. Yet they say the two things are as unlike as \nbread, and the body, soul and divinity of Christ ! And \nthis on pain of perdition must be believed, though the \nsenses all exclaim against it ; and reason, that calm \nfaculty, almost getting into a passion with the absur- \ndity of the doctrine, cries out against it ; and though \nall experience be against it. And in favor of it, there \nis what? Why, Christ r,aid \"This is my body,\" \nspeaking as Paul did when he said \" and that rock \nwas Christ ;\" and as he himself did, when he said \n\" I am the door.\" Did any one ever contend that \nChrist was literally a door or a rock? Oh no. AVhy \nthen is it contended that the bread was literally his \nbody 7 Is it so said ? And are not the other things also \nso said? It is strange the Catholics should contend \nfor a literal interpretation in the first case, while they \nwill not allow it in the other cases. \n\nBut if they contend for a strictly literal interpreta- \ntion of \"this is my body,\" why do they not abide by \nsuch an interpretation ? Why do they say, as in the \nChristian's Guide, page 14, that \" in the most holy \nsacrament of the Eucharist, there is truly, really, \nand substantially, the body and blood, together with \nthe soul and divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ ?\" If \nChrist says it is his body, he does not say it is his soul \nand divinity. Where do they get that from ? They \nsay it is his body, because he says it is. But why do \nthey say it is his soul and Divinity also, when he does \nnot say so? You see they do not interpret the pas- \nsage literally, after all. \n\nBut what do the Catholics do with this host? Prin- \ncipally two things. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERV. 139 \n\nL They adore it. The Bible says \"Thou shalt \nworship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou \nserve.\" But the Catholics Avorship the host. Yes, \nbut is not Christ to be worshiped, and do they not \nhold that the bost is Christ? Suppose they do hold \nso. Does it follow that every thing is as they hold i' \nto be ? And if in this case the fact be diflferent froin \nwhat they hold it to be, is not their worship idolatry \nwhatever they may verily think 7 Paul verily thought \nthat he ought to do many things contrary to the name \nof Jesus of Nazareth. But did his verily thinking ic \nwas his duty, make it so, or exculpate him? No, he \nought to have been better informed. And Catholics \nought to be better informed than to suppose that the \nhost is Christ — a wafer, God — a bit of bread, not only \nthe body, but the very soul and divinity of Christ ! \nI say they ought to know better. And if they do not, \nthey must take the consequences of such ignorance. \n\n2. The other thing which they do with the host is \nto eat it. This is all very well on our theory. It is \nbread ; and what is bread for but to be eaten. Christ \ntells us to put it to this use. He says \" Take, eaV* \nBut on their supposition that it is bread no longer, it \nis no longer proper to be eaten. Its nature being so \nchanged, there ought to be a corresponding change in \nits use. If it is to be adored, it is not to be devoured. \nCommon sense teaches this. These two uses of it, \nadoring it and eating it, are incongruous to each other. \nOne of them at least ought to be dispensed with. If \nthey continue to eat it, they ought to give up adoring \nit. But if they must have it as an object of worship, \nthey should cease to use it as an article of food. Any \nbody can tell you Ihat you ought not to eat what you \n\n\n\n140 THOCGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nworship. Cicero thought such a thing could not be. \nIn his work on Theology, he asks \" Was any man \never so mad as to take that which he feeds upon for a \ngod ?\" But Cicero did not live late enough, else he \ncould not hav£ asked that question. Papal Rome has \nfar outdone Pagan Rome. \n\nIf I believed in transubstantiation, I would never \nreceive the Eucharist. I know that I must spiritu- \nally eat the flesh and drink the blood of Christ, that I \nmay have life in me, that is, I must by meditation and \nfaith, contemplate and appropriate his sacrifice ; but \nI could never literally eat what I believed to be my \ndivine Saviour. What, take him actually between \nmy teeth ! chew and swallow what I had just before \nworshiped, and adored ! Let not the language be ob- \njected to. It is unavoidable. Rather let horror be \nfelt at the thing. I would not speak lightly of sacred \nthings, nor untenderly of the opinions of others ; but \nthe idea of adoring and eating the same object is \nshocking to me. Some readers will perhaps say that \nI must misrepresent the Catholics — that it is impos- \nsible they should believe so. Let such convict me of \nmisrepresentation, if they can, and I will take the first \nopportunity of retracting. \n\n\n\n37. Priests. \n\n\n\nWhere are we ? Under what dispensation are we \nliving ? One would suppose, from hearing so much \nsaid among a certain class of people about priests^ \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 141 \n\nand their offering sacrifice^ that the Old Testament \ndispensation — the dispensation of types and shadows \n— was still in force : and that the Messiah, the sub- \nstance and antitype, was yet to come. Priests were \na sacred order of men under the Jewish dispensation, \nand sacrifice constituted an important part of divine \nservice. But, under the Christian dispensation, there \nis no order of priests, neither any literal sacrifices \noffered. We have, indeed, under this dispensation, a \ngreat High Priest, Jesus the Son of God, who, hav- \ning once offered himself to bear the sins of many, has \npassed into the heavens for us, where he ever lives to \nmake intercession; and he makes all his disciples, \nin a sense, both \"kings and priests unto God\" — John \n1:6; even as also Peter, vfho is prime authority with \nus all, testifies. When addressing the Christians to \nwhom he wrote, he says: \"Ye are a holy priesthood, \nto offer up spiritual sacrifices.\" 1 Pet. 2 : 5. This \npriesthood, which Peter recognizes, is very different \nfrom the Roman Catholic priesthood. All Chris- \ntians share equally in the New Testament priest- \nhood, and these priests are set apart to offer up \nspiritual sacrifices, or as it is said, v. 9, that they \n\"should show forth the praises\" of God. This is \nnot the object of the Roman priesthood, neither are \nits functions performed by all the faithful. \n\nThe truth is, the Roman Catholic priesthood, that \nlarge and influential body of ecclesiastics, has no \nmore warrant and authority for its existence from \nChrist, than it has from Mohammed. There is no \nmore in the Bible in favor of such an order, than \nthere is in the Koran., and perhaps not as much. \nChrist instituted no such office — authorized no such \n\n\n\n142 THOUGUTS ON POPERY. \n\ncharacters in his church. \" He gave some, apostles ; \nand some, prophets ; and some, evangelists ; and \nsome, pastors and teachers ;\" but he gave none \npriests. And these he gave or appointed \"for the \nperfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, \nfor the edifying of the body of Christ,\" not for saying \nmass, offering sacrifice, burning incense, hearing \nconfessions, and the like of those things. Christ ap- \npointed no officer to perform such functions as these. \nI have quoted from Eph. 4: 11, 12. In 1 Cor. 12 : 28, \n\"vre have another enumeration of the officers which \nGod has set in the church, but there is not a word \nabout priests. They are a class of persons not at all \nneeded under the Christian dispensation. The great \nHigh Priest of our profession answers every purpose. \nHe has offered the sacrifice which is efficacious to \nput away sin — has shed a blood which cleanseth from \nall sin; and he ever liveth to be our Advocate with \nthe Father. Neither for propitiation, nor for inter- \ncession, need we any other priest. Other priests are \nquite out of place since he has come. \n\nIf Christ instituted an order of priests, why do we \nnot read any thing about them in that choice piece of \necclesiastical history, the Acts of the Apostles ? It is \nvery strange. We read about Jewish priests in the \nActs, and mention is made of the priests of Jupiter, \nbut not a word do we hear of any Christian priests. \nWho were they? What were their names? Ste- \nphen was a deacon; Philip was an evangelist; Paul \nwas an apostle ; Peter was an elder, and there were \nmany who were addressed as bishops. But who was \na priest? If Paul was, why does he not sometimes \ncall himself so in the introduction of his Epistles'? \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 143 \n\nWas he ashamed of the office 1 Peter says he was \nan elder or presbyter, buf gives no hint of his having \nbeen a priest. He seems to have had no idea of his \nbeing a priest in any other sense than as being one of \nthat \" holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices,\" \nwhich all true believers compose. \n\nIf the priesthood be a Christian order of men, why \ndoes Paul, in writing to Timothy and Titus, take no \nnotice of it ? He gives the qualifications of bishops \nand deacons, but says nothing about those of priests. \nWere they to have no qualifications ? Must a bishop \nbe \" blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, \nsober, apt to teach,\" &c. and might a priest be any \nthing he pleased in these respects ? Might any body \nbe a priest ? If not, the silence of the apostle is de- \ncisive. Any one may see now why the Catholic \npriests do not like the Bible. Who likes to be treat- \ned by book or man with silent contempt? The \npriests will never forgive the evangelists and apos- \ntles for having passed them by in the way they have \ndone. Never. And they will never let their people \nhave the genuine Bible. If they do, they will lose \nthe people. \n\nI suppose it is scarcely necessary to say, that if \nCatholics meant no more by a priest, than some of our \nProtestant brethren mean by the Avord, viz. a presby- \nter, of which priest, as used by them, is but an abbre- \nviation, there could have been no occasion for this \narticle. But they mean by a priest, area.! sacei^dot at \ncharacter, as much as the priest of the Old Testa- \nment was — one who literally offers sacrifice. They \npretend that their priests offer sacrifice now — that \nwhenever they perform mass, a true, proper, and \n\n\n\n144 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\npropitiatory sacrifice, for the living and the dead, is \noffered by them. And if you ask them what they \noffer, they tell you they offer Christ — ^that, under \ntheir hands, he becomes again, and as often as they \nchoose to make him so, a propitiatory sacrifice— that \nhe is as really offered by them in their missal ser- \nvice, as he was by himself on Calvary, only now he \nis offered in an unbloody manner I This is what their \npriests do. A priest must have somewhat to ofier. \nHe is ordained to offer gifts and sacrifices. Now, \nthe Catholic priest, finding nothing else to offer, pre- \ntends to re-offer Christ. For all this — this priest- \nhood, and this sacrifice — every one knows there is no \nmore authority in the Bible than there is for the \nHindoo Suttee — the burning of widows. \n\n\n\n38. The Celibacy of the Clergy. \n\nThis is the Roman Catholic doctrine ; but is it Bi- \nble doctrine ? I believe, however, that the Catholics \nsay it is no part of doctrine^ but of discipline. This \nis a sorry evasion.. It amounts to a confession that \nsome of their ecclesiastical practices have no warrant \nin Christian doctrine. It is saying that it is a part of \ntheir discipline that their clergy do not marry, but no \npart of their doctrine that they should not. \n\nBut let us see how this doctrine or discipline, or by \nwhatever name it may be called, tallies with the \nScriptures ; and as we proceed, we shall see why the \n\n\n\nTHOtrOHTi ON POPERY. 145 \n\nCatholics are unwilling that the people should read \nthe Bible. We shall see what a world of trouble it \n\"would occasion the priests, were they to be in the ha- \nbit of reading it. Suppose, for example, an intelli* \ngent Catholic to take up Paul's ^rsf epistle to Timo- \nthy for perusal. Well, he reads along until he comes \nto the third chapter, where he finds Paul telling Tim- \nothy what a bishop must be. He must be this and \nthat, and, among other things, \" the husband of one \nwife.\" The reader is shocked. '' Why, what does \nthis mean ? Our priests tell us that a bishop must not \nmarry at all. Our church prohibits all her clergy from \nmarrying. Which is right, our priests and church, \nor St. Paul ?\" He concludes to read on. Coming to \nverse 4th, he meets with this qualification of the bi- \nshop: \" one that ruleth well his own house,\" i.e. family. \nBut how can he, if not permitted to have a house of \nhis- own ? He proceeds: \"having his children in \nsubjection.\" His children — his children ! ! ! What, a \nfeishop having children of his own, and having them \ncollected in a family too ! And then there follow's a \nmost provoking parenthesis, \" for if a man know not \nhow to rule his own house, how shall he take care of \nthe church of God ?\" His ruling his own house well \nis to be a criterion of his ability to take care of the \nchurch of God, and yet they say that he must not \nmarry ! \n\nBut the apostle passes on to speak of the deacons, \nand to say what they must be ; and in verse llth, he \nsays what sort of wives they should have — \"even so \nmust their wives be grave,\" &c. So far from en- \ncouraging a doubt whether they should marry or not, \nPaul gives them directions for choosing a wife. \n\n13 \n\n\n\n146 tHOtGHTS ON fOPEIlY. \n\nNow, need any one wonder that the priests do not \n-want to have the Bible read by the people ; a Bible \nwhich contains such statements as these, and which \nmoreover declares that marriage is honorable in allf \nwithout exception of clergy? I do not wonder at it. \nWho would put into the hands of his children and \nservants, and recommend to their perusal and belief, a \nbook containing statements so much at variance with \nhis oral communications to them ? \n\nBut there is a passage a little farther on, at the be- \nginning of chapter 4, which, I suppose, constitutes \nwith the priests a still stronger objection to the popu- \nlar reading of this part of the Bible particularly- \n\" The Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter \ntimes some shall depart from the fdiiih.—forbiddi7ig to \nmarry J^ Now, they are afraid that if the people were \nto read this, they might say, \" Why, St, Paul must \nmean our church, it forbids to marry.\" And as it \nmight give the priests some trouble to show that he \ndid not mean their church, the better way is not to let \nthe people know that there is any such passage in the \nBible. \n\n\n\n30. A Holier State than Matrimony t \n\nIn one of his last letters to Mr. Breckenridge, Mf. \nHughes, of Philadelphia, says that the Catholic church \ndoes not forbid marriage, but \" she holds, however, that \nthere is a holier siatt»^ When I had read the letter \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 147 \n\nthus far, I stopped, and said to myself, \" How is this ? \na holier state ! I must look into this.\" So I thought a \nmoment; and I came to the conclusion that I could \nnot hold with the Catholic church in this thing, for \nthe following reasons among others. \n\n1. Because, according to this doctrine there is a \nholier state than that to which Enoch attained, and \nfrom which he was translated ! He, we know, was a \nmarried man, and begat sons and daughters ; and it \nwould seem that he married earlier than any other \nPatriarch ! And yet all the while after his marriage, \nfor three hundred years, he walked with God; and, \n^^ he kad this testimony, that he pleased God ;\" and \nGod, in honor of his eminent piety, translated him \n^' that he should not see death !\" Now do you sup- \npose I am going to believe that tbe state of a Roman \npriest is holier than that of Enoch ; and that he would \nhave been a better man if he had let marriage alone ? \nNever. I would ask. Do the pri-ests do more than \nwalk with God 7 Have they a higher testimony than \nthat they please him? Are they translated? What \nis the reason we never hear of their holier state being \nthus honored ? \n\n2. If there be a holier state than matrimony, why \ndid not the law of the Jewish priesthood enjoin celi- \nbacy, as the letter tells us the law of the Catholic \npriesthood does ? Above all, why was not the high \npriest, whose functions were of the most sacred cha- \nracter, so much as 'permitted to occupy that holier \nstate ? He was not only authorized, but, it is believed, \nwas obliged to marry. \n\n3. The letter says, speaking of the Catholic church, \n\"the law of her priesthood enjoins celibacy, &e. She \n\n\n\n148 THOUGHTS Or-i PCPERT. \n\ndoes not choose them (those who marry) for her cler- \ngy.\" Truly, she is very fastidious in the choice of \nher clergy. Why need she be so much more parti- \ncular than Paul required Timothy and Titus to be in \nthe choice of their clergy ? Their bishops and dea- \ncons might have a wife ; but if any \" wish to marry,\" \nshe does not choose them for her clergy ! \n\n4. I thought when I read about the holier state, \n\"what if all the Avorld should aspire to the holier \nstate ?\" Certainly, if it is holier, they ought to aspire \nto it. Priests are not the only persons who are com- \nmanded to be perfect. \n\nLet the Catholic priesthood no longer make such an \nado about their celibacy, as a holii^ state. Protes- \ntants allow their clergy to do as they please in this \nmatter. If they remain unmarried, it is all very well. \nAt the same time they are not extremely solicitous \nthat their ministers should aspire to any holier stale \nthan that from which Enoch was translated. \n\n\n\n40. Auricular Confession. \n\nI have been thinking with myself, where is the au- \nthority for this doctrine and practice of the Catholics — \nwhence came the idea of confessing sin to a priest ? \nEvery one admits that sin ought to be confessed — but \nwhy to a priest? Common sense would seem to dic- \ntate that confession should be made immediately to \nthe being offended ; especially if he be easily accessi- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 149 \n\nble- If a child offends his father, does he confess the \noffence to some third person, when his father is near \nat hand too ; and above all, does he select for that third \nperson, an equally offending brother? Was ever such \na thing heard of as this ? Yet this is the Catholic \ndoctrine. It sends us to a brother as deep in the of- \nfence as we, to confess to him, that we have sinned \nagainst our father, when that father is near by, and \nwhen, moreov€r, he says \" Come to me !\" I think \nboth the brothers, the penitent and the priest, had \nmuch better go directly to the father. I find that this \nis what they used to do in old times. I have been \nloolcing into the Bible to discover how it was then, \nand i perceive that they all went to God to make their \n■confessions. They did not stop at the priest. There \nwas David, and Daniel, and Ezra, and Nehemiah, and \nI know not how many raor-e. They all w^ent with \ntheir sin directly to God, Read that precious Psalm, \nthe 51st. There is David before God, He confesses \nto the one he had offended. \" Against thee,\" he says. \nAnd may we not use that Psalm ? May we not go \nand say \"against thee?\" Must we turn aside to the \npriest? The publican did not. He went straight on \nto God- And the prodigal did not stop short of his \nfather. Why should we? Why should Catholics? \nI think the sinner should go on to God — and I do \nnot like that Catholic doctrine^ because it stops him \nas he is going to God. The sinner is on his way to \nconfess his sin to his maker, and to implore of him \npardoning mercy, and it says to him \" you need nol \ngo so far — the priest will hear you confess — he can \nforgive you,\" I like better the Protestant doctrine, \nwhich speeds and cheers the penitent on his way to God, \n\n13* \n\n\n\n150 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nNor can I see why we want more than one media- \ntor between us and God. Why is not Christ enough ? \nHow admirably qualified he is for his work? With \none nature that reaches up to God, and another that \nreaches down to man, how excellently fitted is he to \nmediate for us ! Do we want another between us and \nChrist ? O no. Let the priest please not put him- \nself in the way. Jesus says, \" Come unto me ;\" we \nwant no human priest between us and our \" great High \nPriest, that is passed into the heavens for us.\" \n\nI may be very dull, but really I cannot see for my \npart what is the use of the priest ; for surely he can- \nnot forgive a sinner, unless he repents ; and if he does \nrepent, God forgives him, and then who cares whether \nthe priest forgives him or not. If confession to the \npriest is intended to supersede confession to God, it \nis certainly a great mischief. If not so intended, it is \nuseless, for our being forgiven depends on the nature \nof our confession to God, as penitent or otherwise. \n\nBut they allege in support of their doctrine, a verse \nof Scripture, \" confess your faults one to another.\" I \nsuppose the reason they allege this is, that it is the \nbest they can find for their purpose. They must be \nhard pushed for authority, when they resort to that \njpassage. \" Confess your faults one to another?\"* This \nimplies something mutual. If I confess to the priest, \nhe must confess to me, for it says one to another. \nThis puts priests and all on a level. There is no- \nthing auricular in this. Certainly we ought to con- \nfess our faults one to another, and to \" pray one for \nanother,\" as the same apostle exhorts. But this is by \nno means the Catholic doctrine of confession. That \nis quite a difierent thing. \n\n\n\nTHOUQHTd ON POPERV, 151 \n\nOn the whole, it is my opinion that the world can \ndispense with this doctrine, and with the practice \nfounded on it as well as with any thing which it has \nin use. \n\n\n\n4:1* A Mistake Corrected. \n\n\n\nIn an article entitled \" Auricular Confession,\" the \nwriter stated, that in looking into the Bible he disco- \nvered that all the penitents mentioned therein went \ndirectly to God to make their confessions of sin, and \nnot to the priests ; and he spoke of David, Daniel, Ez- \nra, and Nehemiah, as examples in point. He finds, how- \never, that he M'as mistaken in saying that they all \nconfessed to God instead of the priests. There is one \nexception, and he is willing that the Catholics should \nhave the advantage of it. It is the case of Judas Is- \ncarict, recorded in Matthew, 27 : 3, 4. He did not go to \nGod with his confession. He went to the chief priests, \nand it was to them he said, \" I have sinned, in that I \nhave betrayed the innocent blood.\" Here, we must \nconfess, is an example of confession to a priest. \nBut it is the 07ily one, I believe, in the Bible. Ju- \ndas also brought money (thirty pieces of silver) to \nthe priests; so that the Catholics have authority \n(such as it is) for that part of their practice. I am \ndetermined I will do the Catholics justice. They \nshall have the advantage of every particle of Scrip- \nture which really makes in their favor. It is well \nknown that they need it. \n\n\n\n152 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nBut, poor man ! He got nothing by going to the \npriests. It was their cruel and contemptuous treat- \nment of him, as much as any thing else, that deter- \nmined him to go and hang himself. How differently \n■even Jud<as would have been treated, if he had gone \nwith a broken heart to our great High Priest . Jesus ! \nAh, he had better gone to him whom he betrayed, \nthan to them to whom he betrayed him. I think I siiall \nalways go to Him, notwithstanding the example of \nJudas. \n\n\n\n43. Purgatory. \n\n\n\nThere are no worse reasoners than the Catholics ; \nand 1 suppose the cause of this is that they are so lit- \ntle accustomed to reason. Men rarely do mell what \nthey are not used to do. The mind needs to be dis- \nciplined to thinking and reasoning, else it performs \nthese operations but very indifferently. Hence, you \nhear so many persons say therefore^ when nothing \nfollows, or, at any rate, that does not follow which \nthey suppose. Of this, the Catholics, not being in \nthe habit of thinking and reasoning, their rery reli- \ngion prohibiting these operations, afford us some won- \nderful specimens. Between their premises and con- \nclusion there is often so great a gulf, so deep and \nwide both, that I have wondered how they manage tQ \nget over it. Let us hear them on the subject of pur- \ngatory. They feel as if they would like to have a lit- \ntle Scripture for this dogma of theirs — a text or twoj \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS OX ropFP.y. 153 \n\nnot for the satisfaction of the faithful, (for to them it is \nsufficient that the church believes the doctrine,) but to \nmeet the heretics. But where shall they find in the \nBible any thing favorable to purgatory. The Bible \nspeaks plainly enough of two places beyond the grave, \nbut it says nothing about a third place. It tells us of \na heaven and a hell^ but of an intermediate purgatory \nnever a word. It is true that some hundreds of years \nafterwards certain writers speak of it as a Christian \ndoctrine, but I want to know why the older, the in- \nspired writers, say nothing about it. We read fre- \nquently in the Bible of being purged from sins, but \nmost unfortunately for the Catholic doctrine, the \npurging is done in this life, not after death ; and it is \ndone, not by Jire, as that doctrine asserts, but by \nblood. So that those passages in which purging oc- \ncurs, do not help the Catholic cause. Then they look \nin the Bible for the word Jire ; and they read of the \nfire that is not quenched, and of everlasting fire, pre- \npared for the devil and his angels. But this will not \nanswer their purpose. This fire is everlasting, and \nfor devils as well as wicked men. They never ima- \ngined a purgatory for devils. The fire of their pur- \ngatory is to be quenched. \n\nBut there is a passage having ^re in it, which they \nadduce as to the point. It is 1 Cor. 3 : 15 : \"yet so as \nby fire.\" These are the premises in the grand argu- \nment ; and the conclusion is purgatory, a place of tem- \nporary punishment by fire after this life. d. E. D. \nThose letters were never more out of place. If there \nexisted independent and irrefragible proof from ano- \nther quarter of the doctrine of purgatory, in that case \nit might be innocently imagined that the apostle had \n\n\n\n154 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nin his mind some remote allusion to it in this chap- \nter ; but that this proverbial phrase, \" saved, yet so as \nby fire,\" signifying, as used by writers both sacred and \nl)rofane, a narrow escape out of a great danger, \nshould be relied on as the principal support of the \ndoctrine, is truly marvelous ! I always thought that \nthe fire of purgatory was to purify men^s souls; but \nthe fire here spoken of is to try every man'^s work. \nBesides, it is not said that the person shall be saved \nby fire, but so as by fire ; that is, with the like difficulty \nwith which a man in a burning house is saved from \nits conflagration. A good man, who, on the precious \nfoundation of Jesus Christ, builds worthless materials, \nsuch as wood, hay, stubble, shall sufier the loss of his \nAvork, yet he himself shall be saved, though with great \ndifficulty, so as hy fire. So much for the main pillar \nof purgatory. \n\nBut they point us to Matthew, 5. 25, 26, \"agree \nwith thine adversary quickly, while thou art in the \nway with him ; lest at any time the adversary deliver \nthee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the \nofficer, and thou be cast into prison. Verily, I say \nunto thee, thou shalt by no means come out thence, \ntill thou hast paid the uttermost farthing.\" Noav I \nwould look the intelligent Catholic, Avho refers to this \nin proof of purgatory, in the face, and ask him if he is \nin earnest ; if he can think that the doctrine of purga- \ntory derives any support from that passage. What is \nit but a most excellent piece of advice in reference to \nthe settlement of differences among men? But they \nsay, \" does not Christ, in Matthew, 12 : 32, speak of a \nsin which shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, \nneither in the world to come ; and does not this imply \n\n\n\ntHOUQHTS ON POPERY. 155 \n\nthat some sins may be forgiven in the world to come?\" \nIt implies no such thing. That form of expression is \nemployed but to strengthen the denial. Besides, how \ncan they be said to be forgiven, if they are purged \naway by fire? \n\nAh, but does not St. Peter say that Christ went and \npreached to the spirits in prison ? Where were they \nbut in purgatory ? But were all the giant sinners be- \nfore the flood in purgatory ? If so, there may be some \nhope for us heretics. But why should Christ go to \npurgatory to preach to the spirits there ? It is not by \n•preaching^ according to the Catholics, that souls are \nliberated from purgatory, but by prayers and masses, \nwell paid for. And why should Christ select out the \nantediluvian sinners, and preach only to them ? In- \ndeed, I think the friends of purgatory had better give \nup that text J and not attempt to support their dogma \nby Scripture, but be content with tradition, consoling \nthemselves with the reflection that though nothing is \nwritten about it, yet it has been handed down. \n\nAs for us Protestants, we do not believe in burning \nout sin — in salvation by jire. We protest against it. \nWe believe in the washing away of sin, and that by \nthe blood of Jesus alone : \" The blood of Jesus Christ, \nhis son, cleanseth us from all sin.\" What is there \nleft for fire to do ? The spirits of the just made per- \nfect ascribe no part of their salvation to fire. No. \nTheir ascription is \" unto him that loved us, and \nwashed us from our sins in his own blood.\" How \ncould souls just come up out of purgatory, where they \nhave been hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, un- \ndergoing the purification of fire, unite in this song? \n\n\n\n156 THOUGHTS OK POPERY* \n\n\n\n43> More about Purgatory* \n\nWhat low and unworthy thoughts the Catholics must \nhave of the work of Christ and of the efficacy of his \nblood, that they should believe that after he has done \nall he can for a soul, and his blood has exhausted its \nvirtue on it, it has still to be subjected to the action of \nan intense flame, for no one knows how long, in ordei \nthat the expiation of its sins may be complete, and \nits salvation perfected ! What a doctrine ! Why, \naccording to this, Christ was premature in saying on \nthe cross, \" It is finished.\" It was not finished. The \nexpiation of sin was only begun on Calvary. It is \ncompleted in Purgatory ! O God, I pray thee rid \nand deliver the mind of man from this dreadful delu- \nsion, so derogatory to thy dear Son, our blessed Sa- \nvior ; and so injurious to thee, for it represents thee, \nwho delightest in mercy, as punishing after thou hast \npardoned ; as requiring satisfaction from men, after \nthou hast accepted for them the satisfaction of Christ ! \n\nNow I know the reason why Catholics are never \nhappy in the prospect of death — why the dying vota- \nries of that religion never exclaim, \" O death where \nis thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?\". It is \nbecause they are expecting to go to a place of tire. \nHov7 can they be triumphant in the \" certain fearful \nlooking for of judgment and Jiery indignation ?\" How \ncan their religion be other than Avhat it is, a religion \nof fear and foreboding. \n\nI have a few more things to say upon this subject ; \none of them is this : If there was in the time of Christ \nand his apostles such a place as Purgatory, it must \nhave been a place of little note and of little use — of \n\n\n\ntnOUGHTS OK POfERY. 157 \n\nlittle note, for they say nothing about it — and of little \nUse, because v/e hear of no one going there. Lazarus \ndid not go there, neither did Dives — nor did the thief \nwho was saved from the cross — nor did Judas. Paul \nspeaks of those Christians who are absent from the \nbody, as present with the Lord. Is Christ in Purga- \ntory ? Is it there that believers go to be ever with \nhim? But hark ! a voice from heaven ! now we shall \nknow how it is : \"I heard a voice from heaven,\" says \nSt. John, \" saying unto me, write, blessed are the dead \nwhich die in the Lord from henceforth ; yea, saith the \nSpirit, that they may rest from their labors.\" They \nthat die in the Lord, rest. Then certainly they are \nnot in Purgatory. \n\nIf Purgatory is full of souls, who are helped by the \nprayers of the faithful on earth, as Catholics say, \nwhy, in the multitude of their exhortations, do the \nsacred writers never so much as give us a hint about \npraying for those poor suffering souls ? What a cruel \noversight it was in them ! \n\nI smile sometimes when I look at this doctrine of \nPurgatory. But I repress the smile. Ludicrous as \nthe doctrine is, it is still more pernicious. What does \nit do, that is so bad ? Why, it turns away the atten- \ntion of the soul from Christ. It says the very opposite \nof \" behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the \nsin of the world.\" And then it tells men that they \nmay not only live, but die wickedly, and yet entertain \nthe hope of salvation. It proclaims the possibility of \na post-mortem repentance and purification from sin. \nIt emboldens men to go out of the world in impeni \nlence, assuring them that though they do, yet prayers \n\nand masses offered for them after death can save \n\n14 \n\n\n\n158 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthem. It denies that we are to be judged and dealt \nwith according to the deeds done in the body ; wherea-i, \nthe Bible declares that according to these, we are to \nreceive. \n\nOn the whole, for this doctrine of Purgatory there \nis neither Scripture, nor reason, nor common sense. \nThis, however, may be said of it. It is a profitable \ndoctrine. Yes, a capital speculation. There is no \ndoctrine which pays so well. You have heard of Pe- \nter'' s pence. Here his boasted successors get their \npounds. \n\n\n\n44. A Strange Thing. \n\nI read the other day in a Baltimore newspaper the \nfollowing article : \n\n*' Obsequies. — This day the Prelates and Theologians of the \nCatholic Provincial Council, now in session in this city, to- \ngether with several other priests, celebrated the solemn office \nfor the repose of the souls of the Right Rev. Doctor Fenwick, \nof Cincinnati, and De Neker, of New Orleans. The Right Rev. \nDoctor Rosati celebrated the High Mass, attended by the pro- \nper officers. After the Gospel, the Right Rev. Doctor Purcell, \nJiishop of Cincinnati, ascended the pulpit and preached a fune- \nral Oration; in which he ably portrayed, in accurate and \npathetic language, the virtues and services of the deceased \njirelates, the former of whom fell a victim to the cholera, after \nyears of laborious and successful exertions; the latter wai \ntaken away in the bloom of youth and in the midst of his labors \nby the yellow fever. After the Mass, Doctor Rosati perform- \ned the usual obsequies.\" \n\nHaving finished reading the article, I withdrew the \npaper from my eye and I said to myself, Where am \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 159 \n\nI? I thought I was in the United States of America. \nBut that cannot be. This can be no other than Spain, \nPortugal, or Italy. And what century is this ? I always \nthought that I lived in the glorious nineteenth. But \nI must have made a mistake of nine at the very least. \nThis surely must be the tenth century; the darkest of \nthe dark ages — seculum tenebricosum, as the church \nhistorians call it — the midnight of time! this day the \nPrelates in this city celebrated the solemn of- \nfice for the repose, &c. \n\nJust then it occurred to me that I might have read \nthe paragraph incorrectly. So I resumed the paper ; \nbut still it read the same. Then I threw it down, and \nI sat and thought : Well now, this is a strange thing — \nan extraordinary piece of business — praying for the re- \npose of deceased saints I — and those, too, prelates of \nthe only true church — and prelates eminent for their \n\"virtues and services\" — dead a year, or thereabouts, \nand yet not at rest! — and this by confession of their \nown church ! What must become of the less renowned \nCatholics, if the very best of their bishops are tossing \nand burning in purgatory a year after having sacrificed \ntheir lives in the service of God and their fellow-crea- \ntures ; and need solemn offices said for the repose of \ntheir souls? I always thought that rest to the soul en- \nsued immediately on the exercise of faith. Paul says, \n\" we Avhich have believed, do enter into rest ;\" and \nChrist says, \" come unto me, and I will give you rest ; \n\ntake my yoke upon you and learn of me and ye \n\nshall find rest unto your souls.\" I always supposed it \nmeant that they should find the rest as soon as they \ncame ; and not after a long life, and along purgatorial \nperiod subsequent to that. But above all, I had got the \n\n\n\n160 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nimpression that, if never before, yet in the grave, good \nmen find rest. I must have contracted that belief, I \nsuppose, by reading what St. John says, \" Blessed are \nthe dead which die in the hord from henceforth: yea, \nsaith the Spirit, that they may rest,\" &c. or possibly \nI got it from that other passage, \"there the wicked \ncease from troubling, and there the weary are at rest^ \nBut it seems I am wrong. Here are two bishops dead, \nyet not at rest ! If what St. John says is true, here is \na dilemma. Either those bishops did not die in the \nLord, or they are at rest. Will the prelates say that \nthey did not die in the Lord? I suspect not. Then \nthey must believe that they are at rest. And if so, why \ncelebrate the solemn office for their repose ? \n\nHoping it may not be a mortal sin, (if it be only ve- \nnial, I will risk it,) I would ask how the Catholics know \nthat these bishops of theirs are not at rest ? Who \ntold them so? Where did they learn it? It seems to \nme a slander on those men. Bishop Fenwick enjoyed \nan enviable reputation for goodness. I have often \nheard him spoken of by Protestants in terms of high \ncommendation ; and the article quoted speaks of \n\" the virtues and services \" of both. And now, after \nthey have been dead so long, to tell the world that \nihey are not at rest, and that their repose must be \nprayed for! If Protestants had dared to suggest such \na thing about them, we should never have heard the \nlast of it. \n\nBut it seems not only a slander on those men, but \nalso a reflection on Christ. Hoav imperfectly, accord- \ning to the Catholics, he must have done his work ! \nthat even those esteemed his most devoted servants \nmust lie, and toss, and burn, nobody knows how long, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 161 \n\nafter death, before the efficacy of his atonement will \nallow of their being taken to heaven ! And where is \nthe fulfillment of his promise, \" Come unto me and I \nwill give you rest. Ye shall find rest to your souls ?\" \nAccording to the prelates, &c. these bishops have not \nfound it yet. \n\nI would dare ask another question. How is it that \nthe priests and prelates can tell with so much accura- \ncy how long a soul remains in purgatory before it is \nreleased ? How do they know just when to stop pray- \ning? I will not insinuate that they pray as long as \nthe money holds out, and no longer -, for in the case of \nthe bishops, I suppose they freely give their prayers. \nI could not help thinking, if they did go first to purga- \ntory, yet they may not be there so long as this. A \nyear is a long time to be in purgatory. Hours pass \nslowly away while one is burning. O, is this a part \nof Christianity ? Can it be ? What an unsatisfactory \nreligion, which will not allow its most eminent exam- \nples, its most virtuous votaries, to have repose even in \nthe grave ! Credat qui vult, non ego. \n\n\n\n4r5. Canonizing^ Saints. \n\nI was a good deal struck the other day in reading, \nin a Baltimore paper, the following notice : \" On \nMonday, the 17th of March, St. Patrick's day, a so- \nlemn High Mass will be sung in St. Patrick's church. \nFell's Point, and the panegyric of the Saint will be \n\n14* \n\n\n\n162 THOUGHTS CTN POPERY. \n\ndelivered.\" It suggested some thoughts which I beg \nleave to communicate. \n\nWhy should the 17th of March be called St. Pat- \nrick's day ? How is it his day more than yours or \nmine ? What property had he in it more than others? \nHe died on that day, it is true. But was he the only \none that died on that day. Many thousands must \nhave died on the same day. Does a man's dying on \na particular day make it his ? Ah, but he was a saint. \nHow is that ascertained ? Who saw his heart ? I \nhope he was a good man, and a renewed person. But \nI think we ought to be cautious how we so positively \npronounce our fellow creatures saints. Especially \nshould Catholics, since even Peter himself, thousrh. \nas they affirm, infallible, did not express himself so \nconfidently, for he says in his first epistle, 5th chap, \nand 12th verse, of Silvanus, \" a faithful brother unto \nyou, as I supposed \n\nBut what if he was a saint ; every real Christian is \na saint. If any one doubts this, let him consult any \npart of the New Testament, I trust there were many \nsaints on earth at that time ; and I doubt not that \nother saints died on that day as well as Patrick. I ob- \nject altogether to the day being called his. I have no \nidea that the 365th portion of evAy year belongs pe- \nculiarly to St. Patrick. I have no notion of this par- \nceling out the year among the saints, and calling one \nday St. Patrick's, and another St. Cecilia's, and so \non. At this rate we shall have the whole year appro- \npriated to dead saints. \n\nAh, but you forget that Patrick was canonized. \nThe church made him a saint, and appropriated that \nday to him. But I have not much opinion of these \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS OK POPERY. 163 \n\ncanonized saints — the saints of human manufacture. \nI like the sanctified ones better. Our Protestant \nsaints are \"God's workmanship, created in Christ \nJesus.\" But granting the 17th of March to be St. \nPatrick's day, why is it kept? What have we to do \nwith it, who live so long after ? Patrick died in 493, \nand here in the 19th century they are keeping his day ! \nI think it is time to have done grieving for the death of \nSt. Patrick, now that he has been dead more than 1300 \nyears, and especially when he died at the good old age \nof 120. Really, I think it is time that even the Irish \nCatholics had wiped up their tears for him. Tears ! \nwhy, they do not keep the day in lamentation for him, \nbut in honor and praise of him. High mass is to be \nswig, as it appears by the advertisement. Now sing- \ning expresses praise — and his panegyric is to be pro- \nnounced. It is wonderful what a disposition there is \namong the Catholics to multiply the objects of their \nreligious honor. O that they were but satisfied to \npraise the Lord that made heaven and earth ! But no \n— they must have creatures to do homage unto — an- \ngels ; and saints of their own making ; and above all, \nthe blessed Virgin, \"our heavenly mother,\" as some \nof them call her. It would really seem as if they had \nrather pay respect to any other being than God ! They \ncannot be satisfied with the mediation of Jesus. They \nmust have creatures to mediate and intercede for them. \nThey are always doing things, and keeping days in \nhonor of the saints. How much they talk about tute- \nlar saints and guardian angels. It would appear \nas if they had rather be under the care of any other \nbeings than God! \n\nNow the idea of still eulogizing, panegyrizmg, and \n\n\n\n164 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\npraising, here in these United States, one St. Patr'ck, \nwho died in Ireland in 493, how absurd! How is \npiety to be promoted by it, I should like to know ! \n\nBy the way, what is high mass in distinction from \nlow mass? They differ in several respects. Among \nthe peculiarities of high mass, this, I believe, is one, \nthat it is more exfensive than Ioav mass. If you Avant \nhigh mass said for a poor suffering soul in purgatory, \nyou have to pay more than you do if you are content \nAvitli low mass. And so it should be, for the high \nmass is worth more. Low mass scarcely makes an \nimpression on a soul in purgatory. It is high mass \nthat does the business effectually and expeditiouslv. \n\nAs for us Protestants, we have nothing to do with \nthese masses. We do not find any thing said about \nthem in the Bible. The Catholic will pardon me, I \nhope, for alluding to the Bible. I am aware that it is \nno good authority with him, except now and then a \nverse, (entirely misunderstood,) such as that about the \nrock, which they say was Peter, on whom the church \nwas built, according to them ! Only think now, a man \nthat denied the founder of Christianity three times \nwith profane oaths, himself the foundation of the \nwhole church ! Nothing else for it to rest upon but \nPeter ! But the beauty of it is that this foundation \nshould have had a long series o{ fundamental succes- \nsors, down to the present Pope ! I always supposed \nthat when a foundation is laid, there is an end of it, \nand that all after belongs to the superstructure. But \nthis is a digression. I was speaking of us Protestants, \nthat we reject masses. And so we acknowledge no \ndistinction of days, but the Lord^s day. We keep no \nsaint's days. We keep the Lord's day. It is almos: \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERV. 165 \n\nthe only day that some Catholics do not keep reli- \ngiously ! They are so busy with their saint's days, \nthat they quite overlook the day which \" the Lord \nhath made.\" \n\nIt strikes me that in giving this notice, the priests \nshould have used an easier word than panegyric. I \nwonder how many of our Irish brethren know what it \nmeans. But \" ignorance is the mother of devotion,\" \nyou know, is one of their maxims. What multitudes \nof them said, on the 17th of March, \" blessed St. Pat- \nrick.\" Probably many more than said \" Hallowed be \nthy name.\" And every day how much more respect \nis paid among them to the mother than to the Son! \nIt is as clear as demonstration can make any thing, \nthat the Catholic religion is idolatrous. Men may \nsay that it is a very uncharitable remark. But if any \none will dare to say it is an untrue remark, I am ready \nto meet him. Let us inquire Jirst^ what is truth. \nThen we will come to the question, what is charity. \nAnd we shall find that charity is something which \n\" rejoices in the truth.\" \n\n\n\n40. Gen. liafayette not at Rest. \n\nA few days since I observed the following notice, \ntaken from the Charleston Roman Catholic Miscella- \nny : \" There will be an office and high mass in the \nCathedral on Monday, 30th inst. (June,) for the re- \npose of the soul of General Lafayette.\" Also the \n\n\n\n166 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nfollowing, taken from the Catholic Herald: \"A so- \nlemn high mass will be sung on Tuesday next, the \n29th inst. (July,) at 10 o'clock, at the church of the \nHoly Trinity, corner of Sixth and Spruce, for the re- \npose of the soul of the late Gen. Lafayette.\" The \nGeneral died, it will be remembered, on the 20lh of \nMay. I did not know that he had been heard from \nsince, any more than the rest of the dead. But the \nCharleston and Philadelphia editors seem to have had \naccounts of him up to as late a date as the 29th of \nJuly. Forty days after his death, according to the one \naccount, and sixty-nine days according to the other, \nhis soul was not at rest ; and they give notice that \nmeasures are about to be taken to procure its repose. \nI don't know where they got it. They do not say \nthrough what channel the intelligence came. They \nare very positive, however, in regard to the fact. I \nhave often been surprised at the confidence with which \nCatholics make assertions, implying a knowledge of \nthe condition of souls beyond the grave. One would \nsuppose they had a faculty, peculiar to themselves, of \nseeing into the invisible world. With what positive- \nness they speak of this one and that other as saints \nin glory, and even pray to them as such. I have often \nthought that many of the prayers of Catholics might \nbe lost from the circumstance of the persons to whom \nthey are addressed not being in heaven. \n\nWe Protestants do not lose any prayer in that way. \nWe do not pray to any being who we are not certain \nis-in heaven. We speak with positiveness of the fu- \nture condition of characters and classes of men — the \nrighteous and the wicked — believers and unbelievers. \nThe Bible does that. But we do not, we dare not \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 167 \n\nspeak of the condition of individuals with the same \nconfidence ; and especially dare we not say of this or \nthat person that has died, that his soul is not at rest. \nWe think it better to be silent concerning the spirit \nthat has returned to God who gave it, and wait for the \ngreat day to disclose the decision of the eternal mind \non its case, and that especially if the person seemed \nto die in impenitence. We would not usurp the place \nand prerogative of judgment. What Protestant, even \nthough belonging to the class of Calvinists, as some \nof us do, would intimate that the soul of such a man \nas Lafayette is not at rest ? \n\nBut the Catholics are not so reserved. They pre- \ntend to know not only who are saints in glory, but \nwhat souls are suffering in the fire and restlessness of \npurgatory. They can tell you the names of the per- \nsons. They have printed in two of their papers, at \nleast, that the ^ood Lafayette, as our countrymen are \nwont to speak of him, has not gone to rest. His body \nrests ; but his soul, they tell us, has as yet found no \nrepose. It has not obtained admittance into that place \nwhere \"the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary \nare at rest.\" The General lived a long time Avhere \nthe wicked cease not from troubling ; and much an- \nnoyance received he from them, in the course of his \npatriotic and useful life ; and many trials and fatigues \nhe underwent for liberty and the rights of man. Now \nit seems to me the Catholics take a great deal on \nthem, when they say that his soul is still subject to \nthe annoyances and disquiet which were his lot on \nearth. Yet they do say so. They appoint a day, a \ngood while after his death, to sing high mass for the \nrepose of his soul. Of course they must believe that \n\n\n\n168 TUOtGHTS OK fOrERY. \n\nup to that day his soul is not in repose, else why seek \nits repose ? If the person who inserted these notices \nwere living in the papal dominions, or under the influ- \nence of Prince Melternich, or the ex-king Charles, I \nshould not wonder at their proclaiming his soul not at \nrest, for Lafayette was never a favorite at Rome, Vi- \nenna, or in the court of Charles X. He loved liberty \ntoo well for that. But that American Catholics, and, if \nthe reader will not smile at the incongruity of the \nterms to each other, republican Catholics, should as- \nsert such a thing of him, I am a little surprised. I \nalmost wonder that the people do not resent it as an \ninsult to the old general, if a Protestant minister \nshould say from the pulpit, or through the press, that \nLafayette is not at rest, his church and his person \nwould be hardly safe. But the Catholics do it with \nimpunity. And let them. All the penalty I would \nhave them suffer, is the contempt of every intelligent \nmind. \n\nBut why do the Catholics suppose that Lafayette is \nnot at rest ? Is it because none are at rest when they \ndie? Is this their doctrine ? A comfortable religion \nto be sure ! According to this, how is it \" gain to die ?\" \nWho would be \"willing rather to be absent from the \nbody 1^ Or how^ can it be said, \" O death Avhere is thy \nsting?\" since here it is, and sting enough. But he \nwho wrote, Phil. 1, and 1 Cor. 15, and 2 Cor. 5, was not \na Catholic. Or do they conclude Lafayette to be not \nat rest, because only saints find repose in death, and \nhe was no saint ? I wish all the saints of the church \nof Rome had been as good men as Lafayette. They \nhave canonized worse men than he. I have never in- \nquired curiously into the devotional character of the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERV. 169 \n\ngeneral, but I am possessed of no proof that he wag \nnot a Christian. Certainly, I find in his moral history \nno reason why they should be so positive that he is \nnot at rest. They might have made the appointment \nconditional, I should think — mass to be said for the re- \npose of his soul, provided it be not at rest. But they \ninsert no condition. They are sure he is not at rest. \n\nWell, if he is not at rest, how are their masses to \ngive him repose 1 Does the Bible say that they have \nthat efficacy ? I must be excused for being so old- \nfashioned as to appeal to the Bible. That book, sines \nit savs nothing about masses, cannot be supposed to \nsay anything of their tranquilizing tendency: I al- \nV\\-ay3 forget that the Catholics have another source of \ninformation on religion besides the Bible. Tradition \nthey call it. They mean by it the talk of inspired \nmen, when they had no pen in their hands ; which \nbeing heard, Avas reported, and so has come along \ndown by word of mouth. But I, for my part, am satis- \nfied Vv'ith what they wrote. \n\nWe, Protestants, cannot join the Roman Catholics \nin their solemn office for Lafayette. We hope there \nis no need of praying for the repose of his soul; and \nwe are certain there is no i(se in it. We prayed for \nhim while he v/as living. We did not wait for him \nto be dead first. Now that his spirit has returned to \nGod who gave it, and the Judge has passed upon it, \nVsTQ. leave it there. By the way, how do the Catholics \nknow when to stop praying for the repose of a soul ? \nThe Charleston Catholics had their mass for him on \nthe 30th of June. But it seems it was of no avail, \nfor the Philadelphia Catholics are called together Xo \nsing theirs on the 29th of July. How long is this thing \n\n15 \n\n\n\n170 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nto go on ? I am writing on the 31st of July. Is he \nat rest now ? Was the mass of the 29th inst. more \nefficacious than that of the 30th ult. ? Perhaps the \nnext news from New- York Avill be that mass is to be \nperformed there for the repose of the same soul some \nday in August. I hope the church is not infallible \nin regard to Lafayette, as in other matters. I should \nbe sorry to think him all this time not at rest. \n\nI remember an old Latin maxim, \" Nil de mortuis, \nnisi bonum,\" say nothing but good respecting the \ndead — which, it seems to me, the Catholics have dis- \nregarded in the case of Lafayette. It is certainly not \nsaying any good of a dead man, to say that he is not \nat rest. And it is cruel to sing about it. The Phila- \ndelphia mass was sung. Is it kind to treat a sufler- \ning soul in purgatory with singing ? \n\n\n\nIt* l*Jrayer8 for tlie FaitSiful Departed. \n\nI have taken up again that little book, \" The Chris- \ntian's Guide to Heaven,\"* published, as the title page \nassures us, with the approbation of the most reverend \nArchbishop of Baltimore. Parts of it I have hereto- \nfore reviewed, but I have not exhausted its contents. \nI find on page 198 of my edition, the title of this arti- \ncle, \"Prayers for the Faithful Departed.\" Faithful, \nsaid I to myself; and is it for the faithful dead that \nthey pray ? I was so ignorant as to suppose that it \nwas for wicked Catholics, being dead, they were so \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 171 \n\ngood 33 to pray. I thought there was no need of \npraying for deceased Christians — for the f aithful de- \nparted. I got the notion somewhere, that good peo- \nple, when they die, go where there is \" fullness oi \njoy,\" and \"pleasures forevermore.\" I may have \nimbibed it from St. Paul, who says that when such \nare \" absent from the body,\" they are \" present with \nthe Lord ;\" or perhaps I caught it from St. John, who \nspeaks of the dead that die in the Lord, as \" blessed \nfrom henceforth,\" and as resting from their labors. \nIt is more likely, however, that I got the idea from \nour Saviour, who says to the church in Smyrna, \" Be \nthou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown \nof life.\" It was natural that I should take up the idea \nin reading this, that prayers for the faithful departed \nwere needless, since he says, if they were faithful unto \ndeath they should receive a crown of life. We are \nall liable to mistakes, that is, unless we are infallible. \nIt seems, according to the Catholics, who profess to \nknow all about these matters, that the faithful don't \nget the crown of life by being faithful unto death. \nNo, they must be faithful a good while after death, \nbefore they receive it. That which they get at death \nis very different from the crown of life. They are a \nlong time absent from the body before they are pre- \nsent with the Lord. They donH go to heaven, or para- \ndise. They go to purgatory. This is the Catholic's \ncreed. It don't seem to agree altogether well with \nthe Savior's promise to the Srayrneans. A simple \nman would suppose that fidelity unto death was im- \nmediately followed by the crown of life. But they \nthat cannot err tell us otherwise. \n\nSomehoAV or other this doctrine of the faithful going \n\n\n\n172 THOCGHTS CN POPERY. \n\nto purgatory after death, aiicl needing to be prayed \nout of it, seems to have been always out of the mind \nof the apostle Paul, when he had his pen in his hand, \nor was dictating to the amanuensis. He speaks of it \nas gain to die; but surely, to exchange earth for pur- \ngatory is no gain. Air, however impure or sultry, is \nmore agreeable than the element of Jire. He tells of \nhis desire to depart and be with Christ, just as if the \none immediately followed the other. He overlooked \npurgatory ; otherwise I think he would not have had \nthe desire to depart. Perhaps he thought he would \nfare as v/ell as Lazarus, Avho made no stop in pur- \ngatory ; or as the penitent thief, Avho could not have \nmade a long one, since he was in Paradise the same \nday he died. It has always appeared to me, that ac- \ncording to the Catholic system, this man, of all others, \nshould have gone to purgatory. He never did any \npenance on earth — never bought an indulgence — he \nrepented only a i^ew minutes before he died ; and yet \nhe goes direct to paradise ! Who then may not ? \n\nBut do they not give us chapter and verse for pray- \ning for the dead ! It must be confessed they do. Here \nit is. \" It is a holy and wholesome thought to pray \nfor the dead, that they may be loosened from their \nsins.\" 2 Macb. 12:46. This ZooA-.f like Scripture, \nthough it does not sound much like it. It passes for \nScripture with the Catholics ; but it is Apocrypha. \nIt is no more holy Scripture than the Koran is. J knov/ \nthe Catholics contend that it is as good Scripture as \nany. But ask the Jews if it is Scripture. \" Unlo \nthem were committed the oracles of God.\" Ask them \nif the books of Maccabees were committed to them. \nThey tell you no. They were not even written in \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 173 \n\nHebrew. The New Testament abounds in quota- \ntions from the Old Testament Scriptures. I wonder \nsome of the writers of the New Testament had not \nquoted Maccabees, if it had been Scripture. I woukl \nask any one who reads it, if it strikes the ear as Scrip- \nture. It certainly does not. Besides, it is not in all \ncases good sense. The verse quoted in favor of pray- \ning for the dead is not good sense. They speak of \npraying for the dead as a hohj thought^ and of prayer \nas having an efficacy to loosen them, from their sins. \nNow any child can see this to be no part of Scripture. \nBut I hasten to the prayer. \" A prayer for the suf- \nfering souls in purgatory.\" It is a curious prayer. I \nshould like to quote the whole of it. But some speci- \nmens must suffice. Here is one petition. \" Have \nmercy on those who suffer in purgatory. Look with \ncompassion on the greatness of their torments; they \nare more keenly devoured by their ardent desire of \nbeing united to thee, than by the purging flames \nwherein they are plunged.\" Observe, here are spirits \nm flames; and they are purging flames. Fire may re- \nfine and purify certain metals, but how it should act \nin that Vv'ay on souls, is beyond my comprehension. \nThe suffering occasioned by fire is very horrible; but \nit seems that it is nothing compared with what they \nsuffer from the love of God, or the \"ardent desire \nof being united to him.\" I wonder, if they have \nsuch desires after God, that they are kept in that \nsuffering state. I wonder he does not take them up \nto himself. Why should they suffer so, since Christ \nhas suffered for them, and they are the faithful who \nbelieve on him? Did not Christ suffer enough? But \nthe prayer proceeds: \"With them I adore thy \n\n\n\n174 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\navenging justice.\" So it seems the faithful are the \nobjects of God's avenging justice. I always thought \nthat justice exacted its full demand of Christ. I don't \nknow what the Apocrypha says about it, but holy \nScripture informs me that God can now be just, and \nthe juslifier of him which believeth in Jesus ; and that \nif we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to for- \ngive them. Are not the faithful pardoned ; and huw \nis pardon consistent with vengeance ? \n\nThe prayer goes on thus: \"Remember, O Lord, \nthou art their Father, and they are thy children. \nForget the faults, which, through the frailty of hu- \nman nature, they have committed against thee.\" \nThen a little farther on: '-Remember, O Lord, that \nthey are thy living members, thy faithful followers, \nthy spouses.\" Here you see these sufferers art \nGod's children; and they are suffering for mere fcmltf!, \nwhich they fell into through frailty. This seems \nhard. But they are not only God's children ; they \nare Christ's living members, his faithful followers, \nhis spouses ; and he died for them — and yet there they \nare burning — pardoned, yet suffering punishment — \ninterested in the satisfaction of Christ, yet making- \nsatisfaction for themselves — paying over again the \npenalty Avhich the Savior discharged. And this is \nthe Catholic gospel! Is it not '-another gospel?\" \nAnd yet \"not another.\" It is no gospel. It is a con- \ntradiction of the good neus. \n\nI quote but one more petition : \" Deliver them, O \nmost merciful God, from that place of darkness and \ntorture, and call them to a place of refref.hment, \nlicrht and peace.\" The reader will remember that \nthis prayer is for ihc faithful It is they who, having \n\n\n\nTH0DGHT3 OM POPERY. 175 \n\nbeen \" faithful unto death,\" go to a place of darkness \nand torture. There they ''''rest from their labors.\" \nI don't know, for my part, what worse can befall VAibe- \nlievcrs than this. Truly, here is no great encourage- \nment to believing. What a consolitary doctrine this to \nbreak in the ear of a dying disciple ! Fear not, be of \ngood cheer, thou art but going to the place of '* dark- \nness and torture.\" Can it be Jesus who says this to \nhis faithful followers ? Can this be Christian doc- \ntrine ? It certainly is not well calculated to make dy- \ning easy. With such a prospect before them, I do \nnot wonder that Catholics find it hard to die — verily \ndeath has a sting, and the grave a victory, if the Ca- \ntholic doctrine of purgatory be true. \n\n\n\n£8. An Improvement. \n\nI always hail improvements. I am always glad to \nsee things taking a turn for the better, even though \nthe improvement be slight. We must not despise \nthe day of small things. Rome was not built in a \nday, nor will she be overthrown in a day. A system \nthat it took centuries to introduce, cannot be expected \nto pass away all at once. Even if the improvement \nbe only in phraseology, I rejoice in it, because words \nnot only signify ideas, but sometimes generate them , \nso that from using right words, men not unfrequently \npass to holding correct ideas on subjects. \n\nThe improvement to which I refer relates to phra- \n\n\n\n176 THOUGHTS ON POPERY, \n\nseology merely. The case is this. It is the habis \namong the Catholics, some few months or so after a \nconsiderable character di-es, to open the church and \nhave a service foi' him. This has heretofore been an- \nnounced thus : \" High mass will be said or sung for \nthe repose of the soul of such a one, at such a time'' \n— not, the reader Vv'ill understand, because the soul is \nat rest, but that it may be at rest. The service is not \neucharistic, but supplicatory. This, I observed, was \ndone in the case of a recent western bishop, and also \nin the case of Gen. La Fayette, who, some months \nafter he had died, was discovered not to be at rest. \nNow, a short time ago the Archbishop of Baltimore \ndied ; and v/eeks having passed aw^ay, the time camt \nto take notice of his soul. Accordingly it was done \nBut I was struck with the alteration in the wording of \nthe notice. It ran thus ; \"A funeral service will be \nperformed in the cathedral for the late Most Rev. \nArchbishop Whitlield.\" This is certainly better than \nthe old way of announcing it' To be sure, it sounds \nodd to talk of a funeral service for one who was regu- \nlarly buried some months before. Protestants cannot \nreadily understand it. But waiving this, why the \nchange of phraseology ? The best explanation I can \ngive of it is this : The Catholics see that the public \nsense of the community, though sufiiciently in tlieir \nfavor, will not tolerate a thing of this kind without a \ndegree of restlessness, not a little annoying to them, \nand perhaps likely to be injurious to their concern. \nFor see, that reasoning animal, man, who is naturally \na logician, and can reason without ever having studied \nthe rules of reasoning, argues something like this : Ei- \nther the soul for which the mass is said is at rest, or it \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 177 \n\nis not at rest. If it is at rest, it is preposterous to pray \nfor its repose. It is asking that that may be done \nwhich has been done already. When a thing is done, \nlo pray for it is superfluous. Then is the time to give \nthanks. If, on the other hand, the soul is not at rest, \nthen common sense, which is no fool, asks why they \nput off the mass so long — why they did not begin to \npray for the repose of the soul sooner. It was not \nkind in them. And common sense, which is also a \ngreat querist, inquires how they know the soul did not \ngo immediately to rest ; or if it did not, hoAV they know \nit is not at rest weeks and months after. Common \nsense, not finding any thing about it in the Bible, \nwants toknowhov/ the Catholics get the information. \nAnd so, through fear of the investigation of common \nsense, they change the phraseology of the notice. It \nis wise. Well may the authorities of the Roman \nCatholic church stand in dread of common sense. I \ndo not know any more formidable foe of error and im- \nposition. I confidently look forward to the overthrow \nof the Catholic religion ; and I expect a great deal of \nthe work of its destruction will be done by common \nsense. I have not the dread, which some have, that \nthis religion is going to overrun our country, and rise \nto dominion here. There is too much common sense \nabroad in the length and breadth of the land to allow \nof such a result. The people of the United States \nwill think, and they have a notion that they have a \nright to think for themselves, without sending to \nRome to knov/ if they may. And they v/ill ask ques- \ntions on subjects, not omitting religion, and they will \ninsist on having a satisfactory answer. The inhabi- \ntants of the old world may, if they please, believe on \n\n\n\n178 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthe ipse dixit of the Pope, but we of the new, before \nwe yield our assent, require a \" Thus saith the Lord,\" \nor a \" quod erat demonstrandum,\" or something of \nthat nature. You can never get a majority here to \nbelieve in contradiction of the five senses. They will \nstick to it that a thing is what they see and feel and \ntaste it to be — in other words, that bread is bread. \n\n\n\n49. Tlie Biikc of Bi>uns\\vick's Fiftictli Reason. \n\nA certain Duke of Brunswick, having many years \nago abjured Lutheranism, and become a Catholic, \nthought it necessary to apologize to the world for his \nchange of religion. It needed an apology. So he \nwrote down Jifty reasons to justify the course he had \npursued, and had them printed in a little book, which \nis entitled \" Fifty Reasons why the Roman Catholic \nreligion ought to be preferred to all others.\" This \nbook the Catholics have free permission to read. O \nyes — they may read any book but the Bible. There \nis no objection to their reading books which contain \nthe thoughts of mert ; but the book which contains \nthe thoughts of God is interdicted I Men know how \nto express themselves. Men can write intelligibly. \nBut ! ! \n\nFifty reasons ! The Duke must have been conscious, \nI suppose, that his reasons were weal:, otherwise he \nwould have been satisfied with a less number than \nfifty. Why does a man want fifty reasons for a thing \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 179 \n\nwhen one good reason is sufficient ? / have but one \ngeneral reason for not being a Catholic, and I consider \nthat enough. It is that the Catholic religion is not \nthe religion of the Bible. It is not the religion which \nMatthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, James, Jude, and \nPeter Avrote about, as any one may see who will \ncompare the Holy Scriptures with the Council of \nTrent. But you see, the Duke, feeling that he had \nnot one good reason for turning Catholic, gives us fifty \npoor ones ; thinking to make up for the weakness of \nhis reasons by the number of them ; and calculating \nthat fifty poor reasons would certainly be equivalent \nto one good one. \n\nFifty reasons ! I shall not now inquire what the \nforty-imie were. But what do you think the sapient \nDuke's fiftieth reason was — his closing, crowning \nreason — that with which he capped the climax — the \nreason which, having brought out, he rested from very \nexhaustion, consequent on the amazing effort of mind \nby Avhich it was excogitated ? \n\nThe fiftieth reason ! I will give it to you in his own \nwords, which I quote from an edition of his reasons, \npublished by one of the very best Catholics in the \nland, so that there can be no mistake about it. After \ngoing on about something else, he says, \" Besides that, \nthe Catholics, to whom I spoke concerning my salva- \ntion, assured me that, if I were to be damned for em- \nbracing the Catholic faith, they were ready to answer \nfor me at the Bay of Judgment^ and to take my dam- \nnation upon themselves ; an assurance I could never \nextort from the ministers of any sect, in case I should \nlive and die in their rtilgion. From Avhence I infer- \nred, the Roman Catholic faith was built on a better \n\n\n\n180 TiiorcHTs OS roPEHY. \n\nfoundation than any of those sects that have divided \nfrom it.\" Prodigious! — and there he stops. I think \nit was time. \n\nI do not know whether to make any comment on \nthis reason or not. Sometimes comment is unneces- \nsary, and even injurious. I wonder the Catholics are \nnot ashamed of this reason. Indeed, I suspect the in- \ntelligent ones among them do blush for it, and wish \nthe Duke had stopped at forty-nine. \n\nBut let us look at it a minute. It seems the Duke was \nwon over by the generosity of the Catholics. They \nagreed that if he were to be damned for embracing \ntheir faith, (they admit the possibility that he might be j \nwhereas, the Protestant ministers v^^hom he consulted \nwere too well assured of the truth of their religion to \nallow of the supposition,) they would take his place, \nand be damned for him. Nowlv/onder the Duke had \nnot reflected — (but there are stupid Dukes — this was \na nobleman, but not one of nature's noblemen) — that \nthose very Catholics, who made him this genyrous \noffer, if their faith was false, would have to be damned \nfor themselves ! That which should leave him with- \nout a title to heaven, would equally leave them with- \nout one. I wonder the Duke so readily believed that \nthe substitution would be accepted. What if they \nAvere willing to suffer perdition in his place ! The \nJudge might object to the arrangement. What igno- \nrance and stupidity it manifests, to suppose that one \nmay suffer in hell for another, just as one serves in \nthe army for another! What an idea such persons \nmust have of the nature of future punishment, to sup- \npose that it is transferable ! I should like to know \nlx:r.v one man is to suffer remorse for another. And \n\n\n\nITHOUGHTS ON rOPERV. 181 \n\nagain, what an admirable exemplification of the spirit \nof Christianity, that one should consent, on any con- \ndition, to lie in hell, for ever, sinning and blaspheming \nGod ! I am sincerely glad that no Protestant minis- \nter could be found to give his consent to an eternity \nof enmity against God. But the Catholics whom the \nDuke consulted, they loved the Lord so that they \nwere willing to sin against him for ever and ever, with \never-increasing malignity of opposition, for the sake \nof saving their noble proselyte ! \" FROM WHENCE \n1 INFERRED,\" says the Duke, (but you have no \ncapitals large enough for this conclusion,) \" the Ro- \nman Catholic faith was built on a better foundation \nthan any of those sects that have divided from it.\" \nAdmirable dialectician! He must be Aristotle him- \nself, by metempsychosis. \n\nI think that those who wish to live and die Catho- \nlics, had better keep their eyes shut. It is the safer \nway. If they open them almost any where, they will \nbe in danger. \n\n\n\n50. The Dnfee's Seventll Reagoii. \n\nThe Vukeh fiftieth reason has been the subject of \nan article. Each of his reasons might be made the \nsubject of one, but that would be giving them too \nmuch consequence. I have selected the seventh for \nsome remarks, because I have several times, in con- \nversation with Catholics, heard it alleged, and some \nconsiderable stress laid on it. The drift of it is this :, \nProtestants acknowledge that some Roman Catholics \n36 \n\n\n\n182 THOUGHTS ON POfERY, \n\nmay be saved, but Catholics contend that no Protes- \ntants can be saved. Therefore it is better and safer \nto be a Catholic, than a Protestant ! But, perhaps, I \nhad better let his Serene Highness speak for himself* \nHe says : \" But what still confirmed me in my resolu-- \ntion of embracing the Roman Catholic faith was this, \nthat the heretics themselves confess Roman Catholics \nmay be saved, whereas, these maintain there is no \nsalvation for such as are out of the Roman Catholic \nchurch.\" Let us examine this reasoning. Catholics \nsay that there is no salvation out of their church, and \ntherefore, by all means, we should belong to it. But \ndoes their saying so make it so ? Is this very chari- \ntable doctrine of the Catholics of course true 7 Is it \nso very clear that none are saved but the greatest bi- \ngots — none saved but those who affirm, and are ready \nto swear that none others but themselves can be saved ? \nHave Roman Catholics never affirmed any thing but \nwhat was strictly true, so that from their uniform ve- \nracity and accuracy, we may infer that they must be \ncorrect in this statement ? Let history answer that \nquestion- This is more than we claim even for Pro- \ntestants. No salvation except for Catholics ! Ah, and \nwhere is the chapter and verse for that. I don't think \nthat even the Apocrapha can supply them. If subse- \nquent Popes have taught the doctrine, he who is reck- \noned by Catholics to have been the first Pope, did \nnot. It is rather unkind, perhaps, to quote Peter \nagainst his alleged successors, but a regard to truth \ncompels me to do it. It is true, Peter once thought \nthat a person must be an Israelite to be saved, just \nas our Catholics hold that a person must be a Cath- \nolic in order to be saved; but the case of Come- \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS 0N POPERY. 183 \n\nlius cured him of that prejudice. That led him to \nsay as recorded, Acts 10 : 34, 35, \" Of a truth I per- \nceiv^e that God is no respecter of persons, but in eve- \nry nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteous- \nness, is accepted Avith him.\" This sounds a little differ- \nent from the Duke's premises. It is a little unlike the \nlanguage of later Popes. They have not taken their \ncue from Peter. Peter was a little of a Catholic at \nfirst, but he soon got rid of it. \n\nNow, if what the Catholics say about there being \nno salvation out of their church, is not true — if there \nis no Scripture for it, but much against it — if even \nPeter controverts it, it certainly does not constitute a \nvery good reason for being a Catholic. Suppose that \nProtestants should give out to the world that none \nbut themselves can be saved, would that make Protes- \ntantism any better, or safer, or worthier of adoption ? \nWould our religion be more entitled to reception, if \nwe should publish that Fenelon was lost forever, and \nthat Pascal was excluded from heaven, and Masillon \ntoo, just because they were not Protestants, but in \ncommunion with the Church of Rome? I think not. \nNor can I think that the Roman Catholic religion is \nentitled to increased respect and veneration, because \nCatholics assert as an undoubted verity, that such men \nas Locke. Nevjton, Leighton, Howard, and many \nothers are beyond all question, in hell, not even ad- \nmitted to purgatory, because, forsooth, they were not \nCatholics. \n\nBut the Duke's inference is from a double premiss. \nNot only do Catholics say no Protestant can be saved ; \nbut Protestants allow that Catholics may. If Protes- \ntants were to say that Catholics could not be saved, \n\n\n\n184 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthen they would be even with each other, and tnere \ncould be no argument in the case. But since Protes- \ntants allow that others besides themselves may be \nsaved, Avhile Catholics deny it, therefore the Catholic \nreligion is the safer. See what credit the Catholics \ngive our declarations when they seem to work in their \nfavor. They build a whole argument on one. Why \ndo they not give us equal credence, when we declare \nthat the probability of salvation among Protestants is \nmuch greater than among Catholics ? \n\nBut what is it after all that Protestants allow ? \nThey allow that so7ne Roman Catholics may be sav- \ned. They allow that the fact of a person's being ex- \nternally related to the Catholic church does not of it- \nself shut him out from salvation — that if he believes \nwith his heart in the Lord Jesus, and truly repents of \nhis sins, he will be saved, though a Catholic : and \nthat the fact of his being a Catholic, though much \nagainst him, does not preclude the possibility of his \nbeing a genuine penitent and a true believer. This \nis the length and breadth of our admission. It admits, \nas every one must see, not that there is salvation 6y \nthe Catholic religion, but m spite of it, to some who \nprofessedly adhere to that religion. If a Catholic \nholds understandingly to the merit of good works, the \ninsufficiency of Christ's sacrifice, the worship of crea- \ntures, or similar unscriptural doctrines, we do not see \nhow he can be saved ; but we believe many, called Ca- \ntholics, reject these doctrines in fact, though not per- \nhaps in word, and rely on Christ's atonement alone \nfor salvation. Now if Catholics are so absurd as not \nto admit in our favor as much as we admit in theirs, \nwe can't help it, and we don't care for it. It is just \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 185 \n\nas they please. We shall not take back our admis- \nsion for the sake of making proselytes to Protestant- \nism — and if they can draw off any from us by their \nexclusive notions, they are welcome to them. \n\nBut I must call the reader's attention to the extent \nof the Duke's inference. He infers the perfect safety \nof the Catholic religion, because Protestants admit \nthat some Catholics may be saved ! But is that a safe \nspot of which this only can be said that some of the \npersons occupying it, may possibly escape ? And is it \nmadness to occupy any other spot? The Duke ex- \nclaims, \" What a madness then were it, for any man \nnot to go over to the Roman Catholics, who may be \nsaved in the judgment of their adversaries: but to \nsort himself with these, who, according to Roman \nCatholics, are out of the way ?\" What a madness in- \ndeed, not to join a people who may not all be lost ! O \nwhat a madness to continue to be Protestants, when \nRoman Catholics say that they are out of the way ! \nWhat if they do say so? What if every Jesuit mis- \nsionary has ever so constantly affirmed ? I suppose a \nJesuit can say what is not so, as well as any body \nelse. I suppose it is not naturally impossible for one \nbeing a Jesuit, I will not say to Zie, but to err. He \ngoes on like a very Aristotle. \" Who would not ad- \nvise a man to take the safest way when he is threat- \nened with any evident danger ?\" Certainly noble \nDuke, the safest way ; but not of course tne way \nwhich some say is safest. There are a great many \nsafest ways, if all which are said to be safest, are so. \nBut his bigness proceeds : \" And does not that way \nwhich two opposite parties approve of, promise great- \ner security than another which one party only recora- \n16* \n\n\n\n186 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nmends, and which the other condemns ?\" But that is \nnot so. The two parties do not approve of it. So far \nfrom it that the Protestant declares the Catholic way \nto be an exceedingly dangerous way, while his own \nway, though pronounced by the Catholic to be fatal, \ncan claim the most respectable testimony that it is the \ntrue and safe way. Then comes an illustration, which \nlike a great many other illustrations, is well con- \nstructed, but happens to be totally inapplicable to the \ncase in hand, \" Who, in fine, can doubt, but that a \nmedicine prescribed by two physicians may be taken \nwith more security than another which one of the two \njudges may be his death ?\" How the Duke rolls on \nhis argument ! Just now the Protestant only admitted \nthe possibility of the Catholic's salvation. Then he \nis represented as approving the Catholic way — and \nimmediately after as prescribing it ! It is easy prov- \ning any thing, if one may make facts to suit his pur- \npose. I believe it is not true that Protestants pre- \nscribe the Catholic religion to those who ask them \nwhat they shall do to be saved. \n\nPeople must become Catholics, if they please, but I \nwould advise them to look out for better reasons for \nthe change than the Duke of Brunswick's fifty ; and \nespecially than this, his seventh. It is a poor reason \nfor becoming a Catholic that they say they are the \npeople, and haughtily bid all others stand by, because \nthey are holier. I cannot think it so great a recom \nmendation of a religion, that it denounces, and so fa. \nas it can, damns all who cannot see their way clea\\ \nto embrace it. \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 187 \n\n\n\n51. Th.e Duke's Klcventli. Reason. \n\nI don't know what is to become of our Protestant \nreligion, with so many reasons against it. I don't \nknow but we shall all have to go back again to the \nCatholic church, compelled by the cogency of argu- \nment. Fifty reasons why the Roman Catholic reli- \ngion ought to be preferred to all others ! Only think. \nAnd some of them that I don't find any answer to in \nany Protestant writer ! Such a one is the eleventh of \nthe formidable series. In the three preceding rea- \nsons or considerations, as he calls them, the Duke \nhad been giving us the result of his inquiries. It \nseems he was quite an investigator. He searched \nalmost every book but the Scriptures. He looked \nfor what he wanted every where but where the thing \nwas. When a man is inquiring after the truth, and \nconsults the philosophers, the fathers, the martyrs, \nand all the saints, I cannot see where is the harm of \njust looking into the prophets, the evangelists, and \nthe apostles too. I don't know why they should be \ntreated with such neglect ; I think they are quite as \nrespectable writers as some of the fathers. But be \nthis as it may, the Duke, in his eighth consideration, \ntells us about his consulting the writings of the an- \ncient fathers, to find what they would advise him to \ndo, whether to embrace the Roman Catholic faith or \nno. And he says they all told him to be a Roman \nCatholic by all means. Then says he in his ninth \nconsideration, \"I appealed to the saints of God, and \nasked them what was the faith they lived in, and by \nwhich they arrived at eternal bliss.\" And they sai4 \n\n\n\na88 thoughts on popery. \n\nnot that they had \"washed their robes and made \nthem white in the blood of the Lamb,\" in accordance \nwith the account given of some other saints in Rev. \n7, but \"they all made answer, it was the Roman \nfaith.\" By the way, the Catholics have an advantage \nover us Protestants. They know just who are saints, \nand have a way of consulting them after they are \ndead. We are not equal to those things. Why, the \nDuke even tells us the names of those who made an- \nswer. \" Thus,\" says he, \" I was answered by St. Mar- \nim, St. Nicholas, St. Athanasius, and many more \niimong the bishops ; among the religious, by St. Do- \nmmick (!?) St. Francis, &c. Among the widows, by \nSt. Monica, St. Bridget, St. Elizabeth, &c. Among \nthe virgins, by St. Agatha, St. Lucy, St. Agnes, St. \nCatharine, &c.\" I think if a Protestant had had the \nprivilege of cross-examining the above when the \nDuke consulted them, the result might have been \nsomewhat different. But no Protestant had notice \nof his intention to carry his inquiries into that quar- \nter. The Duke was determined to make thorough \nwork of it. Therefore, in his tenth consideration he \ntells us : \" Then I turned to the holy martyrs, and \ninquired what faith it was for the truth of which they \nspilt their blood.\" They answered it was the Roman \nCatholic. \"This,\" he says, \"I was assured of by \nthirty-three bishops of Rome, who were crowned \nwith martyrdom ; by the saints Cyprian, Sebastian, \nLaurence; by St. Agatha, St. Cecily, St. Dorothy, \nSt. Barbara, and an infinite number of other saints.\" \nThey all told the same story. \" Then,\" says the Duke, \n\" I wound up my argument.\" But he concluded on the \nwhole, before winding it up, to let it run down a little \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 189 \n\nlower. And this brings us to his eleventh reason. \nThe reader will please prepare himself now for a \n'prostrating argument. \" My next step was in \nthought to hell, where I found in condemnation to \neverlasting torments, Simon Magus, Novatus Vigi- \nlantius, Pelagius, Nestorius, Macedonius, Marcion, \n&c.\" May I never be under the necessity of descend- \ning so low for an argument ! But the Duke does not \nsay that he actually went to the bad place, but he \nwent in thought. There, having gone in thought, he \nfound so and so. Here is another advantage the Ca- \ntholics have over us. They know who are in hell. \nWe do not. Perhaps some are not there who we \nmay fear are. We do not hold ourselves qualified to \njudge in these matters. Well, he found them there. \nHe was quite sure not one of them had repented and \nbeen saved. And he asked them how they came \nthere, and they very, civilly answered that \"it was \nfor their breaking off from the Roman Catholic \nchurch.\" Now this is the argument that I have not \nseen answered by any Protestant writer, as far as \nI can recollect. I don't read of any Protestant who \nwent even in thought to hell to consult the lost on the \npoints in controversy between us and the Catholics. \nSo that the Catholics have the whole of this argu- \nment to themselves. The Duke says they told him \nthey were there for not being Catholics, and we have \nno counter testimony. Protestantism, however, hav- \ning so many other \"' witnesses on the truth\" of her \nsystem, can easily do without the testimony of \" the \nspirits in prison.\" Let that be for the Catholics. But \nby the way, I wonder that the Duke relied so unhesi- \ntatingly on the testimony of those persons. How \n\n\n\n190 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ndoes he know they told the truth ? Are not all such \ncalled in Scripture \" the children of the devil,\" and \ndoes not every body know his character for veracity ? \nIt is certainly an extraordinary answer for one ot \nthem, Simon Magus, to give, considering the time \nwhen he lived. How could he say with truth that he \nwas there for breaking off from the Roman Catholic \nchurch, when at the date of his apostacy the Gospel \nhad never been preached at Rome 7 There was no \nRoman church to break off from. \n\nI was expecting that the Duke would push his in- \nquiries yet one step farther, and, seeing he was on \nthe spot, interrogate Satan in regard to the true re- \nligion. But he does not seem to have consulted \" the \nfather of lying,\" but only the children. The truth is, \nthe Devil does not wait to be consulted on that sub- \nject, but makes his suggestions to \" them that dwell \non the earth,\" without being called on so to do. \n\nI hope the Reformed religion will be able to stand \nthe shock of this argument, notwithstanding the \ndoubt I expressed in the beginning. \n\n\n\n53< Beauties of tlie Iieopold Reports. \n\nI have been not a little interested with the extracts \nrecently published from the Reports of the Leopold \nSociety in Austria, and it has struck me that I might \ndo some service, especially to those who have not the \ntime or the patience to read long articles, by calling \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. ' 191 \n\nthe attention of the public to the choice parts of the \nreports ; for even where all is good, you know, there \nare generally portions here and thexe of superior ex- \ncellence. Will you allow me, then, to point out some of \nthe beauties of the reports'? What has struck me with \npeculiar force, will probably affect others as forcibly. \nNow I have admired the way in which the report \nspeaks of conversions. It seems that these Catholics \nca.u. foresee conversions with as much certainty as we, \npoor blind Protestants, can look back on them ! F. \nBaraga writes, under date of March 10, 1832 : \" I long \nfor the arrival of spring, when I shall have numerous \nconversions I !\" Now, I am aware that the /ace of na- \nture is renewed when spring appears, but I did not \nknow this was as true of the souls of men. It is news \nto me that conversions can be foreseen with such per- \nfect accuracy. It is hard to foresee what men will do. \nBut here is a foreseeing of what God will do, unless \nthey deny that conversion is his work ! But what \nmakes our Catholic brother speak so confidently of \nthe conversions that were to take place ? How did \nhe know it ? Why, forsooth, some had promised him \nthat they would be converted in the spring. \" There \nare many pagan Indians,\" he says, \" who promised me \nlast summer and fall, that they would in the spring \nembrace the Christian religion 1\" This beats all. \nWhy, if they were convinced of the truth of the \nChristian religion, did they not embrace it at once '? \nWhy put it off till after the 1st of March ? But not \nonly had some promised him on their honor that they \nwould be converted, but he says : \" From two other \ncounties I have received assurances, that many of the \nIndians there would be converted to the Christian reli- \n\n\n\n192 THOVJGIITG o:\\\" rOfERVi \n\ngion, if I would come and preach the gospel to them P^ \nYou see they had told others, who told Baraga, that \nthey would. It (?ame very straight. He speaks par* \nticularly of a Christian Indian who had brought him \nthe intelligence. Now observe, they had never heard \na word of the gospel — neither knew what it was, nor \nhow confirmed ! Yet they promised to embrace it- \npromised to believe, and be converted — to have their \nhearts changed — to be born again I I know that God \npromises, \" A new heart will I give you,\" but I never \nknew before that any man, and especially one who \nhad never heard the gospel, could look ahead and say, \n\" at such a time I will have a new heart.\" Baraga \nsays, \"I cannot describe the joy such assurances give \nme.\" We Protestants are not so easily made happy \nby the promises of the unconverted. \n\nAgain, I have been struck with the manner in which \nBaraga speaks of the mother of Jesus, under date \nof July I, 1832 : \"When I decided to be a missiona- \nry,\" he says, \" I promised our heavenly mother that I \nwould consecrate to her the first church I should con- \nsecrate among the Indians, for I am convinced she \nwill pray her Son continually for the progress of our \nmissions.\" Our heavenly mother ! ! Our heavenly \nFather is a phrase dear to every Christian heart ; but \nit is the first time I ever heard we had a heavenly \nmother. O ! O ! Will the reader pause a moment and \ninquire the meaning of the word idolatry ? Baraga \npromised her? Where had they the interview when \nthat promise w^as made ? He must have been praying \nto her. And why was the promise made ? Because \n\"I am convinced she Avill pray her Son.\" What! \n•prayer in heaven ! John, in Patmo>, heard praise in \n\n\n\nTHOOGHTS ON POPERY. 193 \n\nheaveii, but not prayer. I know there is one advocate \nin heaven, Jesus Christ the righteous, who over liveth \nto make intercession. That one is enough. But here \nwe are told of another advocate on high — a. mediatrix. \nAnd she prays to her son — mediates between him and \nsinners. What ! Do we need a mediator between us \nand Christ ? I always knew we needed a mediator \nbetween God and us ; but I supposed we need go di- \nrectly and immediately to Christ, since he is himself \na mediator. Baraga says presently after, \" thanks be \nto Mary, gracious mother, who ever prays for the con- \nversion of the heathen.\" Now, if all this is not idola- \ntry, I wish some body could tell me what idolatry is. \nI would as soon undertake to defend the worship of \nthe golden calf as this. \n\nFinally, what power these Catholic priests have ! \nProtestant ministers are only \"mighty through God.\" \nBut the priests can succeed Avithout that help. Father \nSenderl writes : \" Young people of sixteen years, \nand not unfrequently older persons, have never con- \nfessed nor communed ; (taken the half sacrament, I \nsuppose he means.) I prepare them for both, and for \nconfirmation.\" / prepare them ! And another writes \nconcerning Baraga, that he achieves wo7iders of sal- \nvation among the Ottawas. \n\nThis is a specimen of the religion which Prince \nMetternich ^ Co. our Austrian brethren, those dear \nlovers of liberty, are benevolently contributing to give \nus here in America. They are afraid that our free \ninstitutions will not be permanent unless they help us \nto prop them up with the Catholic religion ! Timeo \nMetternich et dona ferentem. [I fear Metternich, evea \nsending gifts.] \n\n17 \n\n\n\n194 THOUGHTS OiN POPERY. \n\n53. Beauties of the I<copoItl Reports* \n\nPuerility of the Catholic Religion. \n\nWhat a 'puerile religion the Catholic religion is ! \nHow childish ! How petty its cares ! About what \ntrifles it concerns itself! The Christian is truly \" the \nhighest style of man,\" but the consistent Catholic is \nnot much above the lowest. Baraga writes as follows: \n\" It would be of essential service to our missions, if \nthere could be sent us cups, boxes for the holy wafer, \nrosaries, crucifixes — of the last two, as many as pos- \nsible, for such articles cannot be bought here. How \nit is with church furniture and linen, you may easily \nthink. Those given to me by pious persons are of great \nuse to me, and I cannot be thankful enough for them.\" \nCannot be thankful enough for boxes, rosaries, &c. ! ! \nHis capacity for gratitude must be small indeed. We \nProtestants often feel that we cannot be thankful \nenough, but it is not for such trumpery as cups and \nboxes. When we feel and lament over the inadequacy \nof our gratitude, it is in view of the many and great \nmercies of God to us. I suppose our Protestant mis- \nsionaries at Ceylon, and elsewhere, would not be so \nvery grateful if we should send them a consignment \nof cups, boxes, &c. No : such things could not be of \nessential service to their missions. We do not under- \nstand converting people as the Catholics do. They can \nregenerate and pardon, and do all the rest in a trice. \nWe have to bring before the mind of the sinner the \ngreat-saving truth of Ch.ns,i crucified ; but they have \nonly to put the little crucifix in his hand. I went, a \nshort time ago, to^isit a man under sentence of death, \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTi ON POPBRY. 195 \n\nto talk to him about Christ and his death. I found him \ngazing intently on a little metallic image of Christ \ncrucified, which a priest had left him. He seemed \nindifferent to all I said. The priest had 'prepared him ! \n\nIn a note to Baraga's letter, we are told of a great \nnumber of Catholic notions that are already on their \nway to America ; among them three thousand rosa- \nries ! What a sight of heads ! How their missions \nmust prosper after this ! A little afterwards, by way \nof inducing others to contribute beads, boxes, &c. it is \nsaid : \" The good Christian rejoices to promote the \nexternal honor of the house of God, so that the inner \nman, by the splendor of the external divine worship, \nmay be lifted to heaven.\" What a sage sentiment ! \nHow scriptural ! How philosophical too! This is \ntruly a new Avay of being lifted to heaven. \n\nBut I must not overlook a letter of Bishop Fenwick, \ndated Mackinac, July 1, 1S31. He writes : \" On the \nsecond day after my arrival, Mr. M. and I preached at \ndifferent times after mass. When the people had heard \nsome sermons, confessions began ; and from that time \ntill the day of our departure, we sat on the confession \nstool from early morning till 1 o'clock, and in the af- \nternoon, from 3 or 4 o'clock, till 10, 11, and twice till \n12 at night. There were confessions of twenty, thirty, \nand forty years.\" What a prodigious memory they \nmust have had, who called to mind and confessed the \nsins of forty years ! All that time they were waiting \nfor a priest to come along. There was the God who \ndelighted in mercy, to whom they might have confess- \ned, as the publican dared to do ; and there was \"Jesus \nthe mediator of the new covenant,\" whom they might \nat any time have engaged to intercede for them. But \n\n\n\n196 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthat would not have been to act the part of good Ca- \ntholics. The good Catholic does not go to the mercy- \nseat of God to confess his sins and obtain forgiveness, \n(that were an \" iniquity to be punished by the judges,\") \nbut he waits for the priest to come along with his con- \nfession-stool. The confession-stool substituted in the \nplace of the mercy-seat ! This is one of the doings \nof that religion which Austria wants to give us. God \nsays to sinners, \" Come unto me,\" and he promises \nthat he will \" abundantly pardon them from his throne \nof grace.\" \" Nay,\" says the priest, \" wait till I come \nwith my little stool.\" Catholics may, if they please, \ngo for pardon and mercy to the stool of confession — \nbut, my Protestant brethren, \"Let us come boldly unto \nthe throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and \nfind grace to help in time of need.\" \n\n\n\n54. Partiality of tlie Clinrcli of Rome. \n\nThere is nothing of Avhich I am more perfectly cer- \ntain than that the religion of the church of Rome is \nnot the religion of Jesus Christ. I do not care to say \nwhat it is — but it is not Christianity. How can they \nbe the same, when they differ so widely ? Midnight \nand noon are not more unlike. I will specify one point \nof difference. Romanism is partial. She is a re- \nspecter of persons. Christianity is the very opposite \nof this. And not only is the church of Rome partial, \nbut her partialities are all in favor of the rich. Now \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 197 \n\nChristianity, if it leans in any direction, inclines to- \nwards the poor. It was one sign that the Messiah \nwas come in the perison of Jesus of Nazareth, that \n\" the poor had the Go«pel preached to them.\" They \nwere not orerlooked j far from it. \" Hearken,\" says \none, \" hath not God chosen the poor of this world, \nrich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom whiah he has \npromised to them that lovt him.\" The poor had never \nsuch a friend as Christ. He was himself poor. He \nhad experience of the prirations, cares, and sorrows \nof that condition. So poor was he that he had not \nwhere to lay his head. No lodging-place at night had \nhe in all that world which his word created and his \nhand sustained. The poor are peculiarly his brethren. \nAnd think you, then, that he has opened a wider door \nof entrance into heaven to the rich than to the poor ? \nThink you that he has connected with the condition \nof the rich man an advantage whereby he may sooner \nor more easily obtain admittance into the place of his \nglorious presence ? I do not believe it. But this is \nwhat the church of Rome teaches. She preaches bet- \nter tidings to the rich than to the poor — Christ did not. \nBut I must make good this charge against the church \nof Rome. I do it thus : According to her creed, all \nsouls, except, perhap% now and then one, of every \ncondition, go, on their leaving the body, to purgatory. \nThere they are. Now to get them out. How does she \nsay that is to be done? Why, they must either suffer \nout their time, (that is, all the time which remains af- \nter subtracting all the indulgences that were purchased \nand paid for,) or their release must be effected by the \nefficacy of prayers and masses said for them by the \nfaithful on earth. You remember that mass was per- \n\n\n\n198 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nformed lately by the Catholic congress assembled in \nBaltimore, for the repose of the souls of two deceased \nbishops. There is no other way. Christ's sacrifice does \nnot give rest to the soul, according to the Catholics, un- \nless the sacrifice of the mass be added to it ! Well, how \nare these masses, so necessary to the repose and re- \nlease of the soul, to be had ? Why, how do you sup- \npose, but by paying for them! Give the priests \nmoney, and they will say them. At any rate, they \npromise that they will. Now, do you not see the ad- \nvantage which money gives a man in the church of \nRome, and the hardships of being a poor Catholic ? \nI wonder any poor man should think the Catholic re- \nligion the religion of Christ. Verily, Popery is no \nreligion for poverty. What did our Savior mean, when \nhe said, \" How hardly shall they that have riches en- \nter into the kingdom of God ?\" According to the Ca- \ntholic doctrine, they are the very men that enter most \neasily — they having the wherewith to purchase indul- \ngences and masses. It is the poor, according to this \nscheme, that with difficulty enter in. They have to \nserve their time out in purgatory — whereas, the rich \ncan buy their time off. \n\nBut is the thing managed in this way ? Are not \nmasses said for all that die in th^j Catholic faith ? Yes, \nthere is a day in the year called All-soul's day, (it \ncomes on the 2d of November. Alas for the poor Ca- \ntholic who dies on the 3d, for he has to wait a whole \nyear for a mass,) when all of them are prayed for. \nThe poor share in the benefit of the masses said on \nthat day ; but what does it amount to, when you con- \nsider the millions of Catholics that die every year, \nand the many millions not yet out of the fire, among \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 199 \n\nwhom the benefit is to be divided? It is not like \nhaving a mass said for one's soul in particular. But \nthat is the privilege of the rich. \n\nNow I do not believe that it is the religion of the \nblessed Jesus that makes this distinction in favor of \nthe rich. I believe that Christ brought as good news \nfrom heaven to the poor as to the rich. I believe that \nevery blessing which he has to dispose of may be \nbought without money and without price. See Isa. \n55 : i. I believe that \" whosoever will,\" may \" take \nof the water of life freely.\" Rev. 22 : 17. This is \nmy creed. \n\nThere was poor Lazarus. I reckon he went to hea- \nven as soon after he died as he would have done if he \nhad had millions of money to leave to the church ; and \nI reckon the angels were as tender and careful of his \nsoul as if he had been clothed in purple and fared \nsumptuously every day. And he was a poor man to \nwhom the dying Savior said, \" To-day shalt thou be \nwith me in Paradise.\" If there was ever a man who, \naccording to the Catholic doctrine, should have gone \nto purgatory, and remained a great while there, it was \nthat thief. But you see he did not go there. Christ \ntook him with him immediately to paradise. He went \nthere without penance, without exti-eme unction^ with- \nout confession to a priest^ without a single mass being \nsaid for him, in utter outrage of all the rules of the \nchurch ! I don't think that Joseph of Arimathea, rich \nas he was, could have got to heaven sooner than that \npenitent thief. But Christ always considered the \npoor ; and that is not Christianity which 4oes not \nconsider them. \n\nAs I said in former pieces that I had no faith in \n\n\n\n200 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nsalvation by fire, or in salvation by oil, I gay no)?» I \nhave no faith in salvation by money. \n\nI will close with a syllogism. Christianity makes \nit as easy for a poor man to get to heaven, as for one \nthat is rich. This is my ma or proposition. Who \ndare dispute it ? But the church of Rom« make^ it not \nso easy for a poor man to get to heaven as one that is \nrich. This is my minor proposition, and this I have \nshown. Who dare deny it ? Now my conclusion is, \ntherefore, the religion of the church of Rome is not \nChristianity. \n\n\n\n55. Superer*s;atio]^ \n\nThis long word was coined by the Catholics for \ntheir own special use, as was also that longer and \nharder word transubstantiation. Nobody else finds \nany occasion for it. It expresses what tlie rest of \nmankind think has no real existence. If the reader \nis acquainted with the Latin, (that language which \nthe church of Rome extols so high above the Hebrew \nand Greek, the languages of God's choice — and in \nwhich she says we ought all to say our prayers, whe- \nther we know it or not,) he will see that supereroga- \ntion is compounded of two words, and signifies lite- \nrally above ichat is required. It designates that \noverwork in the service of God which certain good \nCatholics in all ages are supposed to have done. Af- \n4er doing all the good which God requires of them \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 201 \n\nthen what they do over and above that, tney call su- \npererogation. It expresses how much more they love \nGod than they are required to love him. He claims, \nyou know, to be loved with all the heart, and soul, and \nstrength, and mind. This is the first and great com- \nmand. And observe, it is with all of each. Now. \nwhen the Catholic has fully satisfied this claim, he \nenters upon the work of supererogation ; and all that \nhe does in the way of loving God after loving him \nwith all the four^ heart, strength, soul, and mind, is \nset down to this account, be it more or less. Might \nI just ask here, for information, if a man is required \nto love God with all his strength, that is, with his \nwhole ability, how can he do more ? It seems that \nwhatever he can do, is required to be done. How \nCatholics contrive to do more than they can, I, for my \npart, do not know. It is a mystery to Protestants. \nWe are in the dark on this subject. \n\nLet me tell you more about this supererogation. It \nexpresses how much more Catholics are than perfect. \nPerfect, you know, we are all required to be — perfect, \n\" even as our Father who is in heaven is perfect.\" \nMatt. 5 : 48. And in another place, even by Peter \nit is said, \" As he which has called you is holy, so be \nye holy in all manner of conversation.\" Now, when one \nis holy as he who hath called him is holy, and holy \nin all manner of conversation, in so far as he is more \nholy than this, since this is all that is required, the \nsurplus is set down to the account of supererogation ! \nIn other words, supererogation expresses the superflu- \nous glory which men give to God, after glorifying him \nin their bodies and spirits, which are his, and doing \nall whatsoever they do, even to the matter of eating \n\n\n\n202 THOUGHTS ON POPERT. \n\nand drinking, to his glory ! See 1 Cor. 6 : 27, and Acts, \n10 : 31. This is supererogation. I hope the reader un- \nderstands it. \n\nNow, those who do these works of supererogation, \nhave of course more merit than they have any occa- \nsion for on their own account ; and as this excess of \nmerit ought by no means to be lost, the church of \nRome has with great economy treasured it up for the \nbenefit of those who are so unfortunate as to do less \nthan what is required, to whom it is, at the discretion \nof the church, and for value received, served out in \nthe way o( indulgences. This is the article that Tet- \nzel was dealing in so largely and lucratively, when one \nMartin Luther started up in opposition to the traffic. \nProtestants have never dealt in the article of indul- \ngences. \n\nBy the way, the wise virgins of whom we read in \nMatthew, 25, seem not to have been acquainted with \nthis doctrine of supererogation ; for when the foolish \nvirgins, in the lack of oil, applied to them for a sea- \nsonable supply, they answered, \" not so : lest there be \nnot enough for us and you.\" They had only enough \nfor themselves. \n\nBut, say the Catholics, are there not counsels in the \nBible, as well as precepts — certain things which are \nrecommended, though not required ? If so, and a per- \nson, besides obeying the precepts, complies with the \ncounsels, doing not only what is required, but also \nwhat is recommended, is not here a foundation for \nworks of supererogation ? This is plausible, but that \nis all. My motto being brevity, I shall not attempt \nan extended answer to it, but take these few things. \n\n1. If there are counsels recommending things which \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY* 203 \n\nno precepts require, yet obedience to these counsels \ncannot constitute works of supererogation, and accu- \nmulate merit, unless all the 'precepts are perfectly \nobeyed. A man must do all that is required, before \nhe can do more than what is required. Now, has any \nmere man since the fall perfectly obeyed all the com- \nmandments of God ? Has any man done all his duty ? \nIf not, I reckon no one has done more than his duty. \nWe don't generally go beyond a thing until after we \nhave come up to it. A cup does not usually run over \nbefore it is full. But, \n\n2. According to this doctrine of the church of Rome, \nmen are capable of a higher virtue than God has re- \nquired ! They can, and actually do, perform virtuous \nand holy acts which belong to neither of the tables of \nthe law, and which are comprehended neither in the \nlove of God nor in the love of man ! Is this idea ad- \nmissible? The Psalmist says, \"thy commandment is \nexceeding broad.\" But according to this doctrine, the \nvirtue of ihe Catholic is broader. I, however, don't \nbelieve it. \n\n3. There is no counsel which docs not become a \nprecept or command, provided it be found that God \ncan be more glorified by a compliance with it than \notherwise. The thing recommended, if in any case it \nbe apparent that the doing of it will redound to the \nglory of God, is ipso facto required, and becomes a \nduty. Take the favorite example of the Catholics, \ncelibacy, which, they say, is recommended but not re- \nquired. Now, if any one find that he can better serve \nGod in the single condition than in the matrimonial \nstate, celibacy is in that case his duty ; and being a \nduty, a thing required, it can be no work of superero- \n\n\n\n204 THOUGHTS ON POPERY* \n\ngation. When celibacy is not a duty, there is no vir- \ntue in it. Does any one believe that Enoch would \nhave been more virtuous, and walked more closely \nwith God, if he had not fallen into the mistake of mat- \nrimony ? \n\nBut I arrest my remarks, lest, in criminating one \nkind of supererogation, I myself be guilty of another. \n\n\n\n56* Convents* \n\n\n\nEvery body knows how important convents, monas- \nteries, nunneries, &c. are in the Roman Catholic reli- \ngion. Who has not heard of monks and nuns, and of \nthe establishments in which they respectively seclude \nthemselves from the worldl What a pity they cannot \nkeep the flesh and the devil as far off! But the flesh \nthey must carry in with them ; and the devil is at no \nloss to find an entrance. There are no convents that \ncan shut these out ; and it is my opinion that it is not \nof much use to exclude the world, if they cannot at \nthe same time shut out the other two. The world \nwould be very harmless, but for the flesh and the \ndevil. Besides, I am of opinion that a person may be \no/the world, though not in the world, /w, but not of \nthe world, is the Protestant doctrine, and the true \nplan. People forget that the world is not the great \nglobe, with all its land and water ; but that it is often \nan insidious little thing, which, ere one knoAvs it, \nhas taken up its lodgment in the heart. The heart \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 205 \n\ncall entertain the world* If so, convent cannot even \nkeep out the world. They do not answer the purpose \ntherefore for which they are intended. \n\nBut be this as it may, I find nothing for convents in \nthe Bible. In the Old Testament not a word about \nthem — in the New not a word. Now if they are such \ngrand contrivances for making pet)ple good, and for \nkeeping them pure, I am surprised they were never \nthought of till after the canon of Scripture was closed. \nWhy do not the men who speak by inspiration of \nGod, say any thing about them ? This puzzles me. \nI wish some of the Catholic writers would explain \nthe reason. They tell us why St. Paul omitted to \nsay any thing in his writings about the mass. It was, \nsay the authors of the Rhemish Testament in their \nannotations on Hebrews, 7: 17, \"because of the \ndepth of the mystery, and the incredulity or feeble- \nness of those to whom he Avrote.\" We thank them \nfor the admission that the apostle did not teach the \ndoctrine of the mass. But how came they to know \nthe reason of his silence upon it ? May be it was for \na similar reason that he maintained a perfect silence \non the subject of convents ! \n\nBut if convents are such clever things, why did not \nEnoch take the vow of celibacy, and go into one, in- \nstead of \" walking with God and begetting sons and \ndaughters '?\" How much better a man, according to \nthe Catholic notion, he would have been, had he only \nbeen a monk ! And why did not St. John banish him- \nself to some solitary Patmos, and there live the life \nof a hermit, before a persecuting emperor drove him \ninto it ? Why did not Peter and his wife part, and he \nturn friar .and she nun ? We look to such characters \n\n18 \n\n\n\nSOB THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nfor examples. Why did not the Marys, or some other \nof the pious women of whom we read in the Bible, \ntake the veil ? Monachism, they may say, is an im- \nprovement on those times. But I do not like the idea \nof improvements on a system arranged by the wis- \ndom of the Son of God himself. \n\nThere is what we call the spirit of a book. Now, \nthe entire system of convents seems to me as clear- \nly at variance with the spirit of the Bible, as one \nthing can be at variance with another. The Bible \nappears to have been written for persons who were \nto live in society with their fellow-men. It supposes \nhuman beings to be associated together in families \nand in civil communities, not as immured in monas- \nteries and shut up in nunneries. It takes up the va- \nrious relations of life, and descants on the duties \ngrowing out of them. But the system of Monachism \ndissolves these relations. Is it scriptural then ? But \nwhy should I ask if that be scriptural which was \nfirst instituted by St. Anthony in the fourth century \nafter Christ ? \n\nAgain, if the system is favorable to holiness, then \nall equally need it, since all are required to be equal- \nly holy — to be holy as God is holy. But what would \nsoon become of us all, if the system should become uni- \nversal, and all adopt these means of holiness ? This \nidea, that the means of the most eminent sanctity re- \nquired of any, are not accessible and practicable to \nall, is radically erroneous. It is no such thing. It \ncannot be. Therefore I conclude against convents. \n\nBut while I impugn the system, I bring no charges \nagainst the existing edifices, called convents. 1 would \nnever have them assailed by any other force than \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 207 \n\nthat which belongs to an argument. If I were a Ro- \nman Catholic, I could not more indignantly repro- \nbate than, being a protestant, I do, the recent burn- \ning of one of these buildings. If truth and argument \ncan prostrate them, let them fall ; but not by axes, \nand hammers, and fire-brands. All I contend for is, \nthat the whole concern of convents is unscriptural. \nThose who inhabit them may be as pure as any who \nlive outside ; and so I shall believe them to be, until \nI have proof to the contrary. This plan of suspect- \ning, and of making mere suspicion the ground of con- \ndemnation, is no part of my religion. It is a part of my \nProtestantism to 'protest against it. \n\n\n\n57. Mr. Berrington and Mrs. More. \n\nIn reading the interesting memoirs of Mrs. Hannah \nMore, I was struck with a letter which that good lady \nreceived in 1809 from Joseph Berrington, the Pope's \nVicar General, taking exception to something she had \nsaid in her \" Coelebs \" about Popery. He is very much \noffended with her. He complains, among other things, \nof her use of the word Popery, to designate the Ro- \nman Catholic religion. Now, some of us do not make \nmuch use of that word, as knowing it is offensive to the \nCatholics, and not willing to say any thing irritating \nto them; and when we do use it, I believe it is more \nfor brevity than for any other reason — to avoid tedious \ncircumlocution. It is as much out of regard to the \n\n\n\n208 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nprinter as any thing else. I do not see, however, why \nthey should so strongly object to the word Popery. \nThey all hold to the spiritual supremacy of the Pope, \nand regard him as the head of the church. Why then \nshould not iheir religious system be called after him ? \nWe call ours after the one we regard as supreme in \nspiritual matters, and head of the church. We call \nit Christianity, after Christ. Why not for the same \nreason call theirs Popery, after the Pope ? We do not \neven get angry when they call us Calvinists, and our \ndoctrinal system Calvinism. Yet with much more \nreason might we ; for what is Calvin to us ? He is \nonly one of many thousand eminent men who have \nespoused substantially the system of doctrine we do. \nI find in Mr. B's. letter this remarkable sentence : \n\" Nothing is more surprising than that you Protest- \nants should be so utterly ignorant, as you really are, \nor seem to be, of our tenets ; when we all, whatever \nbe our country, think alike, and our catechisms and \nbooks of instruction lie open before the world.\" He \nsays nothing is more surprising. But there is one \nthing which is even more surprising. It is that any \nintelligent ecclesiastic should venture to write such a \nsentence. He says we Protestants are, or seem to be, \nutterly ignorant of their tenets. Now, the truth is, \nthere are few things we are better acquainted with \nthan the tenets of Roman Catholics. They say we \ndo not let them speak for themselves. Yes, we do. \nDo they not speak for themselves in their own manu- \nals, breviaries, and catechisms printed under their \nown sanction and supervision ? If we take their te- \nnets from their own books, and quote verbatim, and \nrefer to the edition and page, is not that enough ? \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 209 \n\nWell, we do so. Yet they say we misrepresent them. \nHow can that be ? They may misrepresent and con- \ntradict themselves, but it is hard to hold us responsi- \nble for that. If we are ignorant of their tenets, it is \nbecause they do not themselves constantly hold to \nthem. If they let go their doctrines, as soon as Pro- \ntestants attack and expose them, and resorting to \nexplanations, evasions and glosses, do thus virtually \ntake hold of something different from their original \nand published tenets, we are not to blame for that, I \nshould think. \n\nBut Mr. B. tells us what makes our ignorance so \nsurprising : \" when we all, whatever be our country, \nthink alike.\" Do they all think alike ? They did not \nalways all think alike. See history. And so far as \nthey do think alike, does the reader know how it \ncomes about? It is by virtue of not thinking at all. \nBut grant they all think alike. Does it follow that \nthey think right 7 Has no error ever been very popu- \nlar ? The world all thought alike once on astronomy \n— all held the earth to be the centre of the system. \nBut did they think right ? However, it is convenient \nto have a large number of persons all think alike, for \nthen, if you can ascertain what one thinks, you know \nwhat all think, and if you read one book, you know \nwhat is in them all. So, if you chance to fall in with \na Spanish or Italian Catholic, and he tells you what \nhe thinks, you know what every English and Ameri- \ncan Catholic thinks, for they \" all thi/ik alike.\" So, \nif you take up one catechism or book of instruction \nand read that, you know what they all ought to con- \ntain. It saves a great deal of trouble. \n\nBut the Vicar complains bitterly of the Bishop of \n\n18* \n\n\n\n210 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nDurham, for asserting that the Catholics suppress the \nsecond commandment. He says it is no such thing, \nand that any school boy could tell him different. And \nhe affirms that a catechism was put into the hands of \nthe Bishop containing that commandment, and still \nhe persisted in his assertion. The Bishop was right ; \nand \" nothing is more surprising \" than that Mr. B. \nshould deny it. I hare myself seen two different \ncatechisms, published in Ireland by Catholic book-sel- \nlers, and under the highest Catholic authority, from \nboth of which the second commandment was ex- \ncluded ; and it is left out of \" the Christian's Guide,\" \npublished in Baltimore by the Catholics, as any one \nmay see for himself Now what could Mr. B. say to \nthis 1 Would he say, \" O ! those were published in \nIreland and America.\" But he says, \" we all, what- \never he our cotmtry, think alike.\" Would he say that \nhe spoke of 1809, and these were published since ? \nBut it is their boast that they not only do now all think \nalike, but that they always did think alike. Would \nhe say that if it was left out of those catechisms, yet \nit was retained in others 1 Yes ; but if their catechisms \ndiffer, how do they all think alike ? Besides, no one \never accused the Catholics of leaving the second com- \nmandment out of every one of their books. But why \ndo they leave it out of any? Will they please to say \nwhy they leave it out of any ? They have never con- \ndescended to answer that question. They always \ne\"vade it. If a man should publish successive editions \nof the laws of any country, and should leave out of \nsome of the editions a certain important law, would \nit be sufficient for him to say that he did not leave it \nout of all the editions ? Why did he leave it out of \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 211 \n\nany '? Why did he not make them all uniform ? A \nman may as well tell me I hare no eyes, as deny that \nsome Catholic catechisms have been published with- \nout the second commandment. Now, why was erer \na catechism published under Catholic sanction with- \nout it ? Did they ever publish one in which they \nomitted any other of the commandments ? Did Pro- \ntestants erer publish a list of the commandments with \none omitted, and another divided so as to make out \nthe ten ? Alas for them ! there is no getting out of \nthis dilemma into which they have brought them- \nselves by their mutilation of the decalogue. It is \nabout the most unfortunate thing they ever did for \nthemselves. I do not wonder that Mr. B. was rest- \nless under the charge. But surely, he had too much \ngood sense to suppose that he had answered the \nBishop, when he showed him a catechism that had \nthe commandment in it. It is as if a man, charged \nwith falsehood in a particular instance, should under- \ntake to answer the charge by showing that in another \ninstance he had spoken the truth. The Catholics are \nvery uneasy to get rid of this millstone about the neck \nof their religion. They see it is in danger of sinking \nit. But they cannot slip it off so easy ; and if they \ncannot manage to swim with it, it must sink them. \nWell, if it does, and nothing but the system goes to \nthe bottom, I shall not be sorry. \n\nIn the course of his letter, Mr. B. speaks of \" the \nanarchical principle of private judgment.\" And is \nthis a principle which leads to anarchy ? Paul did \nnot seem to think so. He says : \" Let every man be \nfully persuaded in his own mind.\" What anarchy \nmust have existed in the Berean church, where, after \n\n\n\n213 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nhearing the word, they \" searched the Scriptures daily, \nwhether these things were so !\" What confusion \nthere must have been where all read and thought \nfor themselves ! They needed an Inquisitor to set \nthings to rights. He is the man to mend matters \nwhen people fall to \" searching the Scriptures.\" Well, \nif the 19th century will tolerate the denunciation of \nprivate judgment on any subject, I suppose it must be \nso ; but I cannot say Amen. \n\n\n\n58. A TSew Metliod of Excitiugf Devotion. \n\nThere seems to be no end to new discoveries. \nMarching mind appears to have no idea of halting. \nProbably improvements will go on until the world it- \nself terminates. What should I see, in taking up the \nObserver of January 3d, but an article headed \" Ca- \nthedral at St. Louis ?\" Then followed a description \ntaken, be it known, not from any scandalous Protes- \ntant paper, but from the Catholic Telegraph, printed \nat Cincinnati, of the building, altar, &c. By the way, \nthe altar is of stone, but they tell us this is only tem- \nporary, and will soon be superseded by a superb mar- \nble altar which is hourly expected from Italy. Why \ngo all the way to Italy for an altar ? Why not employ \nour own mechanics and artists'? We have marble \nenough here, and men enough. But I suppose it is a \npresent. Our country is receiving a great many pre- \nsents now from abroad. Foreign Catholics are parti- \ncularly kind to us. You know we are making the \n\n\n\nTHOUGHTS ON POPERY. 213 \n\ngreat experiment whether a free, representative go- \nvernment can sustain itself; and our Austrian and \nItalian brethren, sympathizing with us, want to help \nus all they can. They mourn especially over the de- \nplorable lack of religion in this country, and are anx- \nious to supply it. Nor is it in building and furnishing \nchurches alone that they are disposed to help us. \nThey cannot bear to see our children growing up in \nsuch ignorance. They are not used (they would have \nus believe) to an ignorant population ; and then, what \nis to become of the republic if the people are not \neducated ? So they come from Ireland, France, Italy, \nand all those countries, male and female, to educate \nus. A sceptical person might be tempted to ask if there \nis nothing of the kind to be done at home — if, for exam- \nple, they cannot find any uneducated children in Ire- \nland, but they must come over here to find them. How- \never that be, they come. But what strikes me with won- \nder, is, that when they get here, they are all for educating \nProtestant children. Why do they not give the chil- \ndren of Catholics, their own people, a chance? There \nare many of them scattered over the land, and they \nare not all self-taught. I should like to have this ex- \nplained. Common sense suggests that there must be \na motive for making this distinction, and shrewdly \nsuspects it is proselytism. Charity waits to hear if \nany more creditable reason can be assigned. But this \nis digression. \n\nWell, on the 26th of October the grand building \nwas consecrated. The procession consisted of an \" ec- \nclesiastical corps \" amounting to fifty or sixty, of whom \nfour were bishops, and twenty- eight priests, twelve of \nwhom were from twelve different nations. You see \n\n\n\n214 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\nthey are coming upon us from all quarters. It would \nreally seem as if all Europe was conspiring to pour in \nits priests among us. Here are priests of twelve dif- \nferent nations met at St. Louis ! Protestantism has to \ndepend for its men and money on native Americans ; \nbut Popery, you perceive, has all Europe to draw upon. \nIf, with this advantage, the latter religion should make \nconsiderable progress in our country, we must not be \nsurprised. Whether this influx of foreign priests au- \ngurs good or evil to our free institutions, is a question \non which I will express no opinion. \n\nI come now to the novelty which suggested the title \nof this article — the new discovery — the improvement I \nspoke of. The editor, or his correspondent, says, \"As \nsoon as the procession was organized, the pealing of \nthree large and clear-sounding bells, and the thunder \nof two pieces of artillery, raised all hearts, as well as \nour own, to the Great and Almighty Being.\" Now is \nnot this something new 7 I always thought bells were \nto call people together, not to raise them up. But here \nhe says they raised all hearts. However, it was with \nthe help of the thundering artillery. It was the bells \nand guns together that did it. They made such a noise \nthat at once all hearts were raised. What an effect \nfrom such a cause ! Will the reader please to consider \nwhat was done and what did it? All hearts were \nraised to God by means of tliree bells and two guns ! \nIs not this a new> method of exciting devotion ? Who \never heard before of noise composing the mind and \npreparing it for devout exercises? According to this, \nthe fourth of July should be the day of all others in \nthe year most favorable to devotion. And what a ca- \nlamity deafness now appears to be ; and how to be \n\n\n\nThoughts on popery. 215 \n\n|)ltied they are who lived before the invention of gun^ \npowder ! I never knew before that this was among \nthe benefits of that invention, that it inspires devo- \ntional feelings, and raises hearts on high. But we \nmust live and learn. \n\nWell, all hearts being raised as before, \" the holy \nrelics (alias, the old bones) were moved towards the \nncAV habitation, where they shall enjoy anticipated \nresurrection— the presence of their God in his holy \ntabernacle.\" What this means, the reader must find \nout for himself. Now, when the relics were moved, \nthe writer tells us what the guns did. \" The guns fired \na second salute.\" They could not contain themselves. \nNeither could the writer. \" We felt,\" says he, \" as if \nthe soul of St. Louis was in the sound.\" A soul in a \nsound ! Here is more that is new. \n\nThen we are told who preached the dedication ser- \nmon ; and afterwards we are informed, for our edifica- \ntion, that \" during the divine sacrifice, (the Protestant \nreader, perhaps, does not know what is meant by this \nphrase, but if the twelve nations continue to send over \ntheir priests, we shall know all about it by and by,) \ntwo of the military stood with drawn swords, one at \neach side of the altar ; they belonged to a guard of \nhonor, formed expressly for the occasion. Besides \nwhom, there were detachments from the four militia \ncompanies of the city, the Marions, the Greys, the \nRiflemen, and the Cannoniers from Jefferson Barracks, \nstationed at convenient distances around the church.\" \nThe reader will not forget that certain professed am- \nbassadors of \" the Prince of P^ace \" were here en- \ngaged in dedicating a church to his service ; and this \nis the way they took to do it. If they had been conse- \n\n\n\n216 THOUGHTS ON POPERY. \n\ncrating a temple to Mars^ I don't know how they could \nhave selected more appropriate ceremonies. Here were \nsoldiers, drawn swords, guns, and, as we shall see \npresently, colors and drums too, all to dedicate a church \nto the meek and lowly Jesus, and that too on the day \nof rest ! \n\nOne more quotation from this glowing description. \n\" When the solemn moment of the consecration ap- \nproached, and the Son of the living God was going to \ndescend, for the first time, into the new residence of \nhis glory on earth, the drums beat the reveille, three \nof the star-spangled banners were lowered over the \nbalustrade of the sanctuary, the artillery gave a deaf- \nening discharge.\" All that seems to have been want- \ning here was three cheers. Those would have been \nquite as suitable as the other accompaniments of the \nservice. Reader, is this religion; and are these the \nthings which are pleasing to God 7 \n\nI have a word to say about the star-spangled banner. \nThat is an ensign endeared to every American heart. \nWhether it is as highly esteemed by the twelve na- \ntions, I cannot say. But a church is not its appro- \npriate place. There is another banner which should \nwave there — and that is not stav-sp angled. One soli- \ntary star distinguishes it — the star — the star of Beth- \nlehem. Let us keep these things separate : under the \none, go to fight the bloodless battles of our Lord — un- \nder the other, march to meet our country's foes. This \nis the doctrine of American Protestantism — no union \nof church and state, and no interchange of their ap- \npropriate banners. \n\nTHE END. \n\n\n\nDATE DUE \n\n\n\nWSiW \n\n\n\n\nGAYLORD \n\n\n\nPRINTED IN aSA \n\n\n\nPrinceton Theological Semmary-Speer Library \n\n\n\n1 1012 01011 3662 \n\n\n\ng^ngmnmiii^l^^^^^^ \n\n\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt",
    "content": "§ 4. Every action shall be prosecuted in the name of the real party\nin interest, except as otherwise provided in this Act.\n\n§ 5. In the case of an assignment of a thing in action, the action by\nthe assignee shall be without prejudice to any set-off or other defence,\nexisting at the time of, or before. notice of, the assignment; but this\nsection shall not apply to a negotiable promissory note, or bill of exchange,\ntransferred in good faith, and upon good consideration before due.\n\n§ 6. An executor or administrator, a trustee of an express trust, or a\nperson expressly authorized by statute, may sue without joining with '\nhim the persons for whose benefit the action is prosecuted.\n\n§77. When a married woman is a party, her husband shall be joined\nwith her; except that,\n\nlet. When the action concerns her separate property, she may\nsue alone :\n\n2d. When the action is between herself and her husband, she\nmay sue or be sued alone.\n\n§ 8. If a husband and wife be sued together, the wife may defend\nfor her own right.\n\n§9. When an infant is a party he shall appear by guardian, who\nmay be appointed by the Court in which the action is prosecuted, or by\na Judge thereof, or a County Judge.\n\n§ 10. The guardian shall be appointed as follows :\n\nlet. When the infant is plaintiff, upon the application of the infant, if he be of the age of fourteen years; or if under that age, upon\nthe application of 'a relative or friend of the infant:\n\n2d. When the infant is defendant, upon the application of the\ninfant, if he be of the age of fourteen years, and apply within ten days\naRer the service of the summons: if he be under the age of fourteen,\nor neglect so to apply, then upon the application of any other party to\nthe action, or of a relative or friend of the infant. .\n\n§ 11. A father, or in case of his death or desertion of his family, the\n\nmother, may maintain an action for the injury or death of a child; and\na guardian for the injury or death of his ward.\n\n§ 12. All persons having an interest in the subject of the action, and\nin obtaining the relief demanded, may be joined as plaintiffs, except\nwhen otherwise provided in this Act. . ‘\n\n§ 13. Any person may be made a defendant, who has or claims an\ninterest in the controversy, adverse to the plaintiff, or who is a necessary party to a complete determination or settlement of the question\ninvolved therein.\n\n§ 14. Of the parties to the action, those who are united in interest\nshall be joined as plaintiffs, or defendants; but if the consent of any\none who should have been joined as plaintiff cannot be obtained, he\nmay be made a defendant, the reason thereof being stated in the complaint; and when the question is one of a common or general interest,\nof many persons, or when the parties are numerous, and it is impracticable to bring them all before the Court, one or more may sue or defend\nfor the benefit of all.\n\n§ 15. Bersons severally liable upon the same obligation or instrument, including the parties to bills of exchange and promissory notes\nand sureties on the same or separate instruments, may all or any of\nthem be included in the same action, at the option of the plaintiff.\n\n§ 16. An action shall not abate by the death, or other- disability of\n\na party; 'or by the transfer of any interest therein, if the cause of\naction survive or continue. In case of the death, or other disability of\na party, the Court, on motion, may allow the action to be continued by\nor against his representative or successor in interest. In case of any\nother transfer of interest, the action may be continued in the name of\nthe original party; or the Court may allow the person to whom the\ntransfer is made, to be substituted in the action.\n\n§ 17. The Court may determine any controversy between parties\nbefore it, when it can be done without prejudice to the rights of others,\nor by saving their rights; but when a complete determination of the\ncontroversy cannot be had without the presence of other parties, the\nCourt shall order them to be brought in.\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/legal/ca1851-nomatch.txt",
    "content": "§ 313. If the judgment be rendered upon the right of the person so\nalleged to be entitled, and the same be in favor of such person, he shall\nbe entitled, aner taking the oath of odice, and executing such odicial\nbond as may be required by law, to take upon himself the execution of\nthe ofIice.\n\n§ 314. If judgment be rendered upon the right of the person so\nalleged to be entitled, in favor of such person, he may recover, by action,\nthe damages which he shall have sustained, by reason of the usurpation\nof the odice by the defendant.\n\n§ 315. When several persons claim to be entitled to the same otiice\nor franchise, one action may be brought against all such persons, in\norder to try their respective rights to such otlice or franchise.\n\n§ 316. When a defendant, against whom such action has been\nbrought, is adjudged guilty of usurping or intruding into, or unlawfully\nholding any otlice, franchise, or privilege, judgment shall be rendered\nthat such defendant be excluded from the oilice, franchise, or privilege,\nand that he pay the costs of the action. The Court may also, in its\ndiscretion, impose upon the defendant a line not exceeding five thousand\ndollars ; which fine, when collected, shall be paid into the Treasury of\nthe State.\n\n"
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    "path": "inst/extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt",
    "content": "§ 597. Every action must be prosecuted in the name\nof the real party in interest, except as otherwise provided in section 599.\n\n..a—\n\n5./imended Code, § 111.\n\n§598. In the case of an assignment of a thing in\n\naction, the action by the assignee is without prejudice\nto any set-off or other defence existing at the time of, or\n\nbefore notice of, the sssignment ; but this section does\nnot apply to a negotiable promissory note or bill of exchange transferred in good faith and upon good considerations, before due.\n\nyfmended Code, § 112.\n\n§ 599. An executor or administrator, a trustee of an\nexpress trust, or a person expressly authorised by statute,\n\nmay sue without joining with him the persons for\n\nwhose benefit the action is prosecuted. A person with\nwhom, or in whose name, a contract is made, for the\n\nbenefit of another, is a trustee of an express trust, within the meaning of this section.\n\n§ 602. When an infant is a party, he must appear by\nguardian, who may be appointed by the court in which\nthe action is prosecuted, or by a judge thereof\n\nJlmended Code, § 115.\n\n§ 603. The guardian must be appointed as -follows:\n\n1. When the infant is plaintiff, upon the application\n\nof the infant, if he be of the age of fourteen years, or if\nunder that age, upon the application of some other party\nto the action, or of a relative or friend of the infant:\n\n2. When the infant is defendant, upon the application\nof the infant, if he be of the age of fourteen years, and\napply within twenty days after the service of the summons. If he be under the age of fourteen, or neglect\n\nso to apply, then upon the application of any other\n\nparty to the action, or of a relative or friend of the infant.\n\n§ 607. When a husband and father has deserted his\nfamily, the wife and mother may prosecute or defend,\nin his name, any action which he might have prosecuted or defended, and shall have the same powers and\n\nrights therein as he might have had.\n\nTo provide for cases of great hardship, that sometimes\nhappen.\n\n§ 608. All persons having an interest in the subject\nof the action, and in obtaining the relief demanded,\nmay be joined as plaintiffs, except when otherwise provided in this title.\nJmended Code, § 117.\n\n§609. Any person may be made a defendant, who\n\nhas or claims an interest in the controversy, adverse to\n\nthe plainti&', or who is a necessary party to a complete\ndetermination or settlement of the question involved\n\ntherein.\n\n§610. Of the parties to the action, those who are\nunited in interest must be joined as plaintiffs or defendants; but if the consent of any one, who should have\nbeen joined as plaintiff, cannot be obtained, he may be\nmade a defendant, the reason thereof being stated in\nthe complaint: and when the question is one of a\ncommon or general interest of many persons, or when\nthe parties are numerous and it is impracticable to\n\nbring them all before the court, one or more may sue\nor defend for the benefit of all.\n\nJimended Code, §119.\n\n§ 611. Persons severally liable upon the same obligation or instrument, including the parties to bills of exchange and promissory notes, and sureties on the same\nor separate instruments, may, all or any of them, be\nincluded in the same action, at the option of the plaintiff.\n\nAmended Code, §l20, amended.\n\n§612. An action does not abate by the death, marriage or other disability of a party, or by the transfer of\nany interest therein, if the cause of action survi've' or’\ncontinue. In case of the death, marriage, or other disabilityof a party, the court on motion, may allow the\naction to be continued by or against his representative\nor successor in interest. In case of any other transfer\nof interest, the action may be continued in the name\n\nof the original party; or the court may allow the person to whom the transfer is made to be substituted in\nthe action.\n\ndmended Code, § 121.\n\n§ 613. The court may determine any controversy between pilrties before it, when ‘it can be done without\nprejudice to the rights of others, or by saving their\nrights; but when a complete determination of the controversy cannot be had without the presence of other\nparties, the court must order them to be brought in.\nAnd when, in an action for the recovery of real or personal property. a person, not a party to the action, but\nhaving an interest in the subject thereof, makes application to the court to be made a party, it may order\nhim to be brought in by the proper amendment.\n\n"
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  {
    "path": "man/TextReuseCorpus.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/TextReuseCorpus.R\n\\name{TextReuseCorpus}\n\\alias{TextReuseCorpus}\n\\alias{is.TextReuseCorpus}\n\\alias{skipped}\n\\title{TextReuseCorpus}\n\\usage{\nTextReuseCorpus(\n  paths,\n  dir = NULL,\n  text = NULL,\n  meta = list(),\n  progress = interactive(),\n  tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams,\n  ...,\n  hash_func = hash_string,\n  minhash_func = NULL,\n  keep_tokens = FALSE,\n  keep_text = TRUE,\n  skip_short = TRUE,\n  encoding = \"unknown\"\n)\n\nis.TextReuseCorpus(x)\n\nskipped(x)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{paths}{A character vector of paths to files to be opened.}\n\n\\item{dir}{The path to a directory of text files.}\n\n\\item{text}{A character vector (possibly named) of documents.}\n\n\\item{meta}{A list with named elements for the metadata associated with this\ncorpus.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar while loading files.}\n\n\\item{tokenizer}{A function to split the text into tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{tokenizers}}. If value is \\code{NULL}, then tokenizing and\nhashing will be skipped.}\n\n\\item{...}{Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.}\n\n\\item{hash_func}{A function to hash the tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{hash_string}}.}\n\n\\item{minhash_func}{A function to create minhash signatures of the document.\nSee \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.}\n\n\\item{keep_tokens}{Should the tokens be saved in the documents that are\nreturned or discarded?}\n\n\\item{keep_text}{Should the text be saved in the documents that are returned\nor discarded?}\n\n\\item{skip_short}{Should short documents be skipped? (See details.)}\n\n\\item{encoding}{Encoding to be used when reading files.}\n\n\\item{x}{An R object to check.}\n}\n\\description{\nThis is the constructor function for a \\code{TextReuseCorpus}, modeled on the\nvirtual S3 class \\code{Corpus} from the \\code{tm} package. The\nobject is a \\code{TextReuseCorpus}, which is basically a list containing\nobjects of class \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}. Arguments are passed\nalong to that constructor function. To create the corpus, you can pass either\na character vector of paths to text files using the \\code{paths =} parameter,\na directory containing text files (with any extension) using the \\code{dir =}\nparameter, or a character vector of documents using the \\code{text = }\nparameter, where each element in the characer vector is a document. If the\ncharacter vector passed to \\code{text = } has names, then those names will be\nused as the document IDs. Otherwise, IDs will be assigned to the documents.\nOnly one of the \\code{paths}, \\code{dir}, or \\code{text} parameters should be\nspecified.\n}\n\\details{\nIf \\code{skip_short = TRUE}, this function will skip very short or\n  empty documents. A very short document is one where there are too few words\n  to create at least two n-grams. For example, if five-grams are desired,\n  then a document must be at least six words long. If no value of \\code{n} is\n  provided, then the function assumes a value of \\code{n = 3}. A warning will\n  be printed with the document ID of each skipped document. Use\n  \\code{skipped()} to get the IDs of skipped documents.\n\n  This function will use multiple cores on non-Windows machines if the\n  \\code{\"mc.cores\"} option is set. For example, to use four cores:\n  \\code{options(\"mc.cores\" = 4L)}.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, meta = list(\"description\" = \"Field Codes\"))\n# Subset by position or file name\ncorpus[[1]]\nnames(corpus)\ncorpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]]\n\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\link[=TextReuseTextDocument-accessors]{Accessors for TextReuse\n  objects}.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/TextReuseTextDocument-accessors.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/TextReuseTextDocument.R\n\\name{TextReuseTextDocument-accessors}\n\\alias{TextReuseTextDocument-accessors}\n\\alias{tokens}\n\\alias{tokens<-}\n\\alias{hashes}\n\\alias{hashes<-}\n\\alias{minhashes}\n\\alias{minhashes<-}\n\\title{Accessors for TextReuse objects}\n\\usage{\ntokens(x)\n\ntokens(x) <- value\n\nhashes(x)\n\nhashes(x) <- value\n\nminhashes(x)\n\nminhashes(x) <- value\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{The object to access.}\n\n\\item{value}{The value to assign.}\n}\n\\value{\nEither a vector or a named list of vectors.\n}\n\\description{\nAccessor functions to read and write components of\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} and \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}\nobjects.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/TextReuseTextDocument.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/TextReuseTextDocument.R\n\\name{TextReuseTextDocument}\n\\alias{TextReuseTextDocument}\n\\alias{is.TextReuseTextDocument}\n\\alias{has_content}\n\\alias{has_tokens}\n\\alias{has_hashes}\n\\alias{has_minhashes}\n\\title{TextReuseTextDocument}\n\\usage{\nTextReuseTextDocument(\n  text,\n  file = NULL,\n  meta = list(),\n  tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams,\n  ...,\n  hash_func = hash_string,\n  minhash_func = NULL,\n  keep_tokens = FALSE,\n  keep_text = TRUE,\n  skip_short = TRUE,\n  encoding = \"unknown\"\n)\n\nis.TextReuseTextDocument(x)\n\nhas_content(x)\n\nhas_tokens(x)\n\nhas_hashes(x)\n\nhas_minhashes(x)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{text}{A character vector containing the text of the document. This\nargument can be skipped if supplying \\code{file}.}\n\n\\item{file}{The path to a text file, if \\code{text} is not provided.}\n\n\\item{meta}{A list with named elements for the metadata associated with this\ndocument. If a document is created using the \\code{text} parameter, then\nyou must provide an \\code{id} field, e.g., \\code{meta = list(id =\n\"my_id\")}. If the document is created using \\code{file}, then the ID will\nbe created from the file name.}\n\n\\item{tokenizer}{A function to split the text into tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{tokenizers}}. If value is \\code{NULL}, then tokenizing and\nhashing will be skipped.}\n\n\\item{...}{Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.}\n\n\\item{hash_func}{A function to hash the tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{hash_string}}.}\n\n\\item{minhash_func}{A function to create minhash signatures of the document.\nSee \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.}\n\n\\item{keep_tokens}{Should the tokens be saved in the document that is\nreturned or discarded?}\n\n\\item{keep_text}{Should the text be saved in the document that is returned or\ndiscarded?}\n\n\\item{skip_short}{Should short documents be skipped? (See details.)}\n\n\\item{encoding}{Encoding to be used when reading files.}\n\n\\item{x}{An R object to check.}\n}\n\\value{\nAn object of class \\code{TextReuseTextDocument}. This object inherits\n  from the virtual S3 class \\code{\\link[NLP]{TextDocument}} in the NLP\n  package. It contains the following elements: \\describe{ \\item{content}{The\n  text of the document.} \\item{tokens}{The tokens created from the text.}\n  \\item{hashes}{Hashes created from the tokens.} \\item{minhashes}{The minhash\n  signature of the document.} \\item{metadata}{The document metadata,\n  including the filename (if any) in \\code{file}.} }\n}\n\\description{\nThis is the constructor function for \\code{TextReuseTextDocument} objects.\nThis class is used for comparing documents.\n}\n\\details{\nThis constructor function follows a three-step process. It reads in\n  the text, either from a file or from memory. It then tokenizes that text.\n  Then it hashes the tokens. Most of the comparison functions in this package\n  rely only on the hashes to make the comparison. By passing \\code{FALSE} to\n  \\code{keep_tokens} and \\code{keep_text}, you can avoid saving those\n  objects, which can result in significant memory savings for large corpora.\n\n  If \\code{skip_short = TRUE}, this function will return \\code{NULL} for very\n  short or empty documents. A very short document is one where there are too\n  few words to create at least two n-grams. For example, if five-grams are\n  desired, then a document must be at least six words long. If no value of\n  \\code{n} is provided, then the function assumes a value of \\code{n = 3}. A\n  warning will be printed with the document ID of a skipped document.\n}\n\\examples{\nfile <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\ndoc  <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, meta = list(id = \"ny1850\"))\nprint(doc)\nmeta(doc)\nhead(tokens(doc))\nhead(hashes(doc))\n\\dontrun{\ncontent(doc)\n}\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\link[=TextReuseTextDocument-accessors]{Accessors for TextReuse\n  objects}.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/align_local.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/align_local.R\n\\name{align_local}\n\\alias{align_local}\n\\title{Local alignment of natural language texts}\n\\usage{\nalign_local(\n  a,\n  b,\n  match = 2L,\n  mismatch = -1L,\n  gap = -1L,\n  edit_mark = \"#\",\n  preserve_punctuation = FALSE,\n  progress = interactive()\n)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{a}{A character vector of length one, or a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.}\n\n\\item{b}{A character vector of length one, or a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.}\n\n\\item{match}{The score to assign a matching word. Should be a positive\ninteger.}\n\n\\item{mismatch}{The score to assign a mismatching word. Should be a negative\ninteger or zero.}\n\n\\item{gap}{The penalty for opening a gap in the sequence. Should be a\nnegative integer or zero.}\n\n\\item{edit_mark}{A single character used for displaying for displaying\ninsertions/deletions in the documents.}\n\n\\item{preserve_punctuation}{Preserve punctuation in the displayed alignment.\nThe alignment still compares tokens after stripping punctuation.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar and messages while computing the\nalignment.}\n}\n\\value{\nA list with the class \\code{textreuse_alignment}. This list contains\n  several elements: \\itemize{ \\item \\code{a_edit} and \\code{b_edit}:\n  Character vectors of the sequences with edits marked. \\item \\code{score}:\n  The score of the optimal alignment. }\n}\n\\description{\nThis function takes two texts, either as strings or as\n\\code{TextReuseTextDocument} objects, and finds the optimal local alignment\nof those texts. A local alignment finds the best matching subset of the two\ndocuments. This function adapts the\n\\href{https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Waterman_algorithm}{Smith-Waterman\nalgorithm}, used for genetic sequencing, for use with natural language. It\ncompare the texts word by word (the comparison is case-insensitive) and\nscores them according to a set of parameters. These parameters define the\nscore for a \\code{match}, and the penalties for a \\code{mismatch} and for\nopening a \\code{gap} (i.e., the first mismatch in a potential sequence). The\nfunction then reports the optimal local alignment. Only the subset of the\ndocuments that is a match is included. Insertions or deletions in the text\nare reported with the \\code{edit_mark} character.\n}\n\\details{\nThe compute time of this function is proportional to the product of the\nlengths of the two documents. Thus, longer documents will take considerably\nmore time to compute. This function has been tested with pairs of documents\ncontaining about 25 thousand words each.\n\nIf the function reports that there were multiple optimal alignments, then it\nis likely that there is no strong match in the document.\n\nThe score reported for the local alignment is dependent on both the size of\nthe documents and on the strength of the match, as well as on the parameters\nfor match, mismatch, and gap penalties, so the scores are not directly\ncomparable.\n}\n\\examples{\nalign_local(\"The answer is blowin' in the wind.\",\n            \"As the Bob Dylan song says, the answer is blowing in the wind.\")\n\n# Example of matching documents from a corpus\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, progress = FALSE)\nalignment <- align_local(corpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]], corpus[[\"ny1850-match\"]])\nstr(alignment)\n\n}\n\\references{\nFor a useful description of the algorithm, see\n  \\href{http://etherealbits.com/2013/04/string-alignment-dynamic-programming-dna/}{this\n  post}. For the application of the Smith-Waterman algorithm to natural\n  language, see David A. Smith, Ryan Cordell, and Elizabeth Maddock Dillon,\n  \"Infectious Texts: Modeling Text Reuse in Nineteenth-Century Newspapers,\"\n  IEEE International Conference on Big Data, 2013.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/as.matrix.textreuse_candidates.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/conversion-functions.R\n\\name{as.matrix.textreuse_candidates}\n\\alias{as.matrix.textreuse_candidates}\n\\alias{as_sparse_matrix}\n\\title{Convert candidates data frames to other formats}\n\\usage{\n\\method{as.matrix}{textreuse_candidates}(x, ...)\n\nas_sparse_matrix(x)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{An object of class \\code{\\link[=lsh_compare]{textreuse_candidates}}.}\n\n\\item{...}{Additional arguments.}\n}\n\\value{\nA similarity matrix with row and column names containing document IDs.\n}\n\\description{\nThese functions convert a \\code{textreuse_candidates} object to dense or\nsparse matrices.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/filenames.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/filenames.R\n\\name{filenames}\n\\alias{filenames}\n\\title{Filenames from paths}\n\\usage{\nfilenames(paths, extension = FALSE)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{paths}{A character vector of paths.}\n\n\\item{extension}{Should the file extension be preserved?}\n}\n\\description{\nThis function takes a character vector of paths and returns just the file\nname, by default without the extension. A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} uses\nthe paths to the files in the corpus as the names of the list. This function\nis intended to turn those paths into more manageable identifiers.\n}\n\\examples{\npaths <- c(\"corpus/one.txt\", \"corpus/two.md\", \"corpus/three.text\")\nfilenames(paths)\nfilenames(paths, extension = TRUE)\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\code{\\link{basename}}\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/hash_string.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/RcppExports.R\n\\name{hash_string}\n\\alias{hash_string}\n\\title{Hash a string to an integer}\n\\usage{\nhash_string(x)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{A character vector to be hashed.}\n}\n\\value{\nA vector of integer hashes.\n}\n\\description{\nHash a string to an integer\n}\n\\examples{\ns <- c(\"How\", \"many\", \"roads\", \"must\", \"a\", \"man\", \"walk\", \"down\")\nhash_string(s)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh.R\n\\name{lsh}\n\\alias{lsh}\n\\title{Locality sensitive hashing for minhash}\n\\usage{\nlsh(x, bands, progress = interactive())\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} or\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.}\n\n\\item{bands}{The number of bands to use for locality sensitive hashing. The\nnumber of hashes in the documents in the corpus must be evenly divisible by\nthe number of bands. See \\code{\\link{lsh_threshold}} and\n\\code{\\link{lsh_probability}} for guidance in selecting the number of bands\nand hashes.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar while comparing documents.}\n}\n\\value{\nA data frame (with the additional class \\code{lsh_buckets}),\n containing a column with the document IDs and a column with their LSH\n signatures, or buckets.\n}\n\\description{\nLocality sensitive hashing (LSH) discovers potential matches among a corpus of\ndocuments quickly, so that only likely pairs can be compared.\n}\n\\details{\nLocality sensitive hashing is a technique for detecting document\n similarity that does not require pairwise comparisons. When comparing pairs\n of documents, the number of pairs grows rapidly, so that only the smallest\n corpora can be compared pairwise in a reasonable amount of computation time.\n Locality sensitive hashing, on the other hand, takes a document which has\n been tokenized and hashed using a minhash algorithm. (See\n \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.) Each set of minhash signatures is then\n broken into bands comprised of a certain number of rows. (For example, 200\n minhash signatures might be broken down into 20 bands each containing 10\n rows.) Each band is then hashed to a bucket. Documents with identical rows\n in a band will be hashed to the same bucket. The likelihood that a document\n will be marked as a potential duplicate is proportional to the number of\n bands and inversely proportional to the number of rows in each band.\n\n This function returns a data frame with the additional class\n \\code{lsh_buckets}. The LSH technique only requires that the signatures for\n each document be calculated once. So it is possible, as long as one uses the\n same minhash function and the same number of bands, to combine the outputs\n from this function at different times. The output can thus be treated as a\n kind of cache of LSH signatures.\n\n To extract pairs of documents from the output of this function, see\n \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\nbuckets\n}\n\\references{\nJure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch.\n 3. See also Matthew Casperson,\n \"\\href{http://matthewcasperson.blogspot.com/2013/11/minhash-for-dummies.html}{Minhash\n  for Dummies}\" (November 14, 2013).\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_add}},\n \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_query}},\n \\code{\\link{lsh_probability}},\n \\code{\\link{lsh_threshold}}\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_add.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh.R\n\\name{lsh_add}\n\\alias{lsh_add}\n\\title{Add documents to a LSH cache}\n\\usage{\nlsh_add(buckets, x, bands, progress = interactive())\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{buckets}{An \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}.}\n\n\\item{x}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} or\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} with minhashes.}\n\n\\item{bands}{The number of bands to use for locality sensitive hashing. The\nnumber of hashes in the documents in the corpus must be evenly divisible by\nthe number of bands. See \\code{\\link{lsh_threshold}} and\n\\code{\\link{lsh_probability}} for guidance in selecting the number of bands\nand hashes.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar while comparing documents.}\n}\n\\value{\nAn updated \\code{lsh_buckets} object.\n}\n\\description{\nThis function adds buckets for one or more new documents to an existing\n\\code{lsh_buckets} object. Use the same \\code{bands} value and minhash\nfunction that were used to create the original buckets.\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\code{\\link{lsh}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_query}},\n  \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_candidates.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh_candidates.R\n\\name{lsh_candidates}\n\\alias{lsh_candidates}\n\\title{Candidate pairs from LSH comparisons}\n\\usage{\nlsh_candidates(buckets)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{buckets}{A data frame returned from \\code{\\link{lsh}}.}\n}\n\\value{\nA data frame of candidate pairs.\n}\n\\description{\nGiven a data frame of LSH buckets returned from \\code{\\link{lsh}}, this\nfunction returns the potential candidates.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\nlsh_candidates(buckets)\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_compare.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh_compare.R\n\\name{lsh_compare}\n\\alias{lsh_compare}\n\\title{Compare candidates identified by LSH}\n\\usage{\nlsh_compare(candidates, corpus, f, progress = interactive())\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{candidates}{A data frame returned by \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.}\n\n\\item{corpus}{The same \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} corpus which was used to generate the candidates.}\n\n\\item{f}{A comparison function such as \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar while comparing documents. Progress\nbars are disabled when using parallel processing.}\n}\n\\value{\nA data frame with values calculated for \\code{score}.\n}\n\\description{\nThe \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} only identifies potential matches, but\ncannot estimate the actual similarity of the documents. This function takes a\ndata frame returned by \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} and applies a comparison\nfunction to each of the documents in a corpus, thereby calculating the\ndocument similarity score. Note that since your corpus will have minhash\nsignatures rather than hashes for the tokens itself, you will probably wish\nto use \\code{\\link{tokenize}} to calculate new hashes. This can be done for\njust the potentially similar documents. See the package vignettes for\ndetails.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\ncandidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\nlsh_compare(candidates, corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_probability.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh_probability.R\n\\name{lsh_probability}\n\\alias{lsh_probability}\n\\alias{lsh_threshold}\n\\title{Probability that a candidate pair will be detected with LSH}\n\\usage{\nlsh_probability(h, b, s)\n\nlsh_threshold(h, b)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{h}{The number of minhash signatures.}\n\n\\item{b}{The number of LSH bands.}\n\n\\item{s}{The Jaccard similarity.}\n}\n\\description{\nFunctions to help choose the correct parameters for the \\code{\\link{lsh}} and\n\\code{\\link{minhash_generator}} functions. Use \\code{lsh_threshold} to\ndetermine the minimum Jaccard similarity for two documents for them to likely\nbe considered a match. Use \\code{lsh_probability} to determine the\nprobability that a pair of documents with a known Jaccard similarity will be\ndetected.\n}\n\\details{\nLocality sensitive hashing returns a list of possible matches for\nsimilar documents. How likely is it that a pair of documents will be detected\nas a possible match? If \\code{h} is the number of minhash signatures,\n\\code{b} is the number of bands in the LSH function (implying then that the\nnumber of rows \\code{r = h / b}), and \\code{s} is the actual Jaccard\nsimilarity of the two documents, then the probability \\code{p} that the two\ndocuments will be marked as a candidate pair is given by this equation.\n\n\\deqn{p = 1 - (1 - s^{r})^{b}}\n\nAccording to \\href{http://infolab.stanford.edu/~ullman/mmds/book.pdf}{MMDS},\nthat equation approximates an S-curve. This implies that there is a threshold\n(\\code{t}) for \\code{s} approximated by this equation.\n\n\\deqn{t = \\frac{1}{b}^{\\frac{1}{r}}}\n}\n\\examples{\n# Threshold for default values\nlsh_threshold(h = 200, b = 40)\n\n# Probability for varying values of s\nlsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .25)\nlsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .50)\nlsh_probability(h = 200, b = 40, s = .75)\n}\n\\references{\nJure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch. 3.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_query.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh_query.R\n\\name{lsh_query}\n\\alias{lsh_query}\n\\title{Query a LSH cache for matches to a single document}\n\\usage{\nlsh_query(buckets, id)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{buckets}{An \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}.}\n\n\\item{id}{The document ID to find matches for.}\n}\n\\value{\nAn \\code{lsh_candidates} data frame with matches to the document specified.\n}\n\\description{\nThis function retrieves the matches for a single document from an \\code{lsh_buckets} object created by \\code{\\link{lsh}}. See \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}} to retrieve all pairs of matches.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 235)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\nlsh_query(buckets, \"ny1850-match\")\n\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\code{\\link{lsh}}, \\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/lsh_subset.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/lsh_subset.R\n\\name{lsh_subset}\n\\alias{lsh_subset}\n\\title{List of all candidates in a corpus}\n\\usage{\nlsh_subset(candidates)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{candidates}{A data frame of candidate pairs from\n\\code{\\link{lsh_candidates}}.}\n}\n\\value{\nA character vector of document IDs from the candidate pairs, to be\n  used to subset the \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n}\n\\description{\nList of all candidates in a corpus\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 234)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\ncandidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\nlsh_subset(candidates)\ncorpus[lsh_subset(candidates)]\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/minhash_generator.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/minhash.R\n\\name{minhash_generator}\n\\alias{minhash_generator}\n\\title{Generate a minhash function}\n\\usage{\nminhash_generator(n = 200, seed = NULL)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{n}{The number of minhashes that the returned function should generate.}\n\n\\item{seed}{An option parameter to set the seed used in generating the random\nnumbers to ensure that the same minhash function is used on repeated\napplications.}\n}\n\\value{\nA function which will take a character vector and return \\code{n}\n  minhashes.\n}\n\\description{\nA minhash value is calculated by hashing the strings in a character vector to\nintegers and then selecting the minimum value. Repeated minhash values are\ngenerated by using different hash functions: these different hash functions\nare created by using performing a bitwise \\code{XOR} operation\n(\\code{\\link{bitwXor}}) with a vector of random integers. Since it is vital\nthat the same random integers be used for each document, this function\ngenerates another function which will always use the same integers. The\nreturned function is intended to be passed to the \\code{hash_func} parameter\nof \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}.\n}\n\\examples{\nset.seed(253)\nminhash <- minhash_generator(10)\n\n# Example with a TextReuseTextDocument\nfile <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\ndoc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, hash_func = minhash,\n                             keep_tokens = TRUE)\nhashes(doc)\n\n# Example with a character vector\nis.character(tokens(doc))\nminhash(tokens(doc))\n}\n\\references{\nJure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n  \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch.\n  3. See also Matthew Casperson,\n  \"\\href{http://matthewcasperson.blogspot.com/2013/11/minhash-for-dummies.html}{Minhash\n   for Dummies}\" (November 14, 2013).\n}\n\\seealso{\n\\code{\\link{lsh}}\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/pairwise_candidates.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/pairwise_candidates.R\n\\name{pairwise_candidates}\n\\alias{pairwise_candidates}\n\\title{Candidate pairs from pairwise comparisons}\n\\usage{\npairwise_candidates(m, directional = FALSE)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{m}{A matrix from \\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}}.}\n\n\\item{directional}{Should be set to the same value as in\n\\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}}.}\n}\n\\value{\nA data frame containing all the non-\\code{NA} values from \\code{m}.\n  Columns \\code{a} and \\code{b} are the IDs from the original corpus as\n  passed to the comparison function. Column \\code{score} is the score\n  returned by the comparison function.\n}\n\\description{\nConverts a comparison matrix generated by \\code{\\link{pairwise_compare}} into a\ndata frame of candidates for matches.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\n\nm1 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\npairwise_candidates(m1, directional = TRUE)\n\nm2 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\npairwise_candidates(m2)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/pairwise_compare.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/pairwise_compare.R\n\\name{pairwise_compare}\n\\alias{pairwise_compare}\n\\title{Pairwise comparisons among documents in a corpus}\n\\usage{\npairwise_compare(corpus, f, ..., directional = FALSE, progress = interactive())\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{corpus}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.}\n\n\\item{f}{The function to apply to \\code{x} and \\code{y}.}\n\n\\item{...}{Additional arguments passed to \\code{f}.}\n\n\\item{directional}{Some comparison functions are commutative, so that\n\\code{f(a, b) == f(b, a)} (e.g., \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}). Other\nfunctions are directional, so that \\code{f(a, b)} measures \\code{a}'s\nborrowing from \\code{b}, which may not be the same as \\code{f(b, a)} (e.g.,\n\\code{\\link{ratio_of_matches}}). If \\code{directional} is \\code{FALSE},\nthen only the minimum number of comparisons will be made, i.e., the upper\ntriangle of the matrix. If \\code{directional} is \\code{TRUE}, then both\ndirectional comparisons will be measured. In no case, however, will\ndocuments be compared to themselves, i.e., the diagonal of the matrix.}\n\n\\item{progress}{Display a progress bar while comparing documents.}\n}\n\\value{\nA square matrix with dimensions equal to the length of the corpus,\n  and row and column names set by the names of the documents in the corpus. A\n  value of \\code{NA} in the matrix indicates that a comparison was not made.\n  In cases of directional comparisons, then the comparison reported is\n  \\code{f(row, column)}.\n}\n\\description{\nGiven a \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} containing documents of class\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, this function applies a comparison\nfunction to every pairing of documents, and returns a matrix with the\ncomparison scores.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\nnames(corpus) <- filenames(names(corpus))\n\n# A non-directional comparison\npairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n\n# A directional comparison\npairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\n}\n\\seealso{\nSee these document comparison functions,\n  \\code{\\link{jaccard_similarity}}, \\code{\\link{ratio_of_matches}}.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/reexports.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/TextReuseTextDocument.R\n\\docType{import}\n\\name{reexports}\n\\alias{reexports}\n\\alias{meta}\n\\alias{meta<-}\n\\alias{content}\n\\alias{content<-}\n\\title{Objects exported from other packages}\n\\keyword{internal}\n\\description{\nThese objects are imported from other packages. Follow the links\nbelow to see their documentation.\n\n\\describe{\n  \\item{NLP}{\\code{\\link[NLP:generics]{content}}, \\code{\\link[NLP:generics]{content<-}}, \\code{\\link[NLP:generics]{meta}}, \\code{\\link[NLP:generics]{meta<-}}}\n}}\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/rehash.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/rehash.R\n\\name{rehash}\n\\alias{rehash}\n\\title{Recompute the hashes for a document or corpus}\n\\usage{\nrehash(x, func, type = c(\"hashes\", \"minhashes\"))\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.}\n\n\\item{func}{A function to either hash the tokens or to generate the minhash\nsignature. See \\code{\\link{hash_string}}, \\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.}\n\n\\item{type}{Recompute the \\code{hashes} or \\code{minhashes}?}\n}\n\\value{\nThe modified \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n  \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n}\n\\description{\nGiven a \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}, this function recomputes either the hashes or\nthe minhashes with the function specified. This implies that you have\nretained the tokens with the \\code{keep_tokens = TRUE} parameter.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash1 <- minhash_generator(seed = 1)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, minhash_func = minhash1, keep_tokens = TRUE)\nhead(minhashes(corpus[[1]]))\nminhash2 <- minhash_generator(seed = 2)\ncorpus <- rehash(corpus, minhash2, type = \"minhashes\")\nhead(minhashes(corpus[[2]]))\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/similarity-functions.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/similarity.R\n\\name{similarity-functions}\n\\alias{similarity-functions}\n\\alias{jaccard_similarity}\n\\alias{jaccard_dissimilarity}\n\\alias{jaccard_bag_similarity}\n\\alias{ratio_of_matches}\n\\alias{count_matches}\n\\alias{matching_tokens}\n\\title{Measure similarity/dissimilarity in documents}\n\\usage{\njaccard_similarity(a, b)\n\njaccard_dissimilarity(a, b)\n\njaccard_bag_similarity(a, b)\n\nratio_of_matches(a, b)\n\ncount_matches(a, b)\n\nmatching_tokens(a, b)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{a}{The first set (or bag) to be compared. The origin bag for\ndirectional comparisons.}\n\n\\item{b}{The second set (or bag) to be compared. The destination bag for\ndirectional comparisons.}\n}\n\\description{\nA set of functions which take two sets or bag of words and measure their\nsimilarity or dissimilarity.\n}\n\\details{\nThe functions \\code{jaccard_similarity} and\n  \\code{jaccard_dissimilarity} provide the Jaccard measures of similarity or\n  dissimilarity for two sets. The coefficients will be numbers between\n  \\code{0} and \\code{1}. For the similarity coefficient, the higher the\n  number the more similar the two sets are. When applied to two documents of\n  class \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, the hashes in those documents\n  are compared. But this function can be passed objects of any class accepted\n  by the set functions in base R. So it is possible, for instance, to pass\n  this function two character vectors comprised of word, line, sentence, or\n  paragraph tokens, or those character vectors hashed as integers.\n\n  The Jaccard similarity coeffecient is defined as follows:\n\n  \\deqn{J(A, B) = \\frac{ | A \\cap B | }{ | A \\cup B | }}{ length(intersect(a,\n  b)) / length(union(a, b))}\n\n  The Jaccard dissimilarity is simply\n\n  \\deqn{1 - J(A, B)}\n\n  The function \\code{jaccard_bag_similarity} treats \\code{a} and \\code{b} as\n  bags rather than sets, so that the result is a fraction where the numerator\n  is the sum of each matching element counted the minimum number of times it\n  appears in each bag, and the denominator is the sum of the lengths of both\n  bags. The maximum value for the Jaccard bag similarity is \\code{0.5}.\n\n  The function \\code{ratio_of_matches} finds the ratio between the number of\n  items in \\code{b} that are also in \\code{a} and the total number of items\n  in \\code{b}. Note that this similarity measure is directional: it measures\n  how much \\code{b} borrows from \\code{a}, but says nothing about how much of\n  \\code{a} borrows from \\code{b}.\n\n  The function \\code{count_matches} returns the numerator used by\n  \\code{ratio_of_matches}: the number of items in \\code{b} also found in\n  \\code{a}. The function \\code{matching_tokens} returns those matching items\n  from \\code{b}, preserving their order and duplicates.\n}\n\\examples{\njaccard_similarity(1:6, 3:10)\njaccard_dissimilarity(1:6, 3:10)\n\na <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"a\", \"b\")\nb <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"b\", \"b\", \"c\")\njaccard_similarity(a, b)\njaccard_bag_similarity(a, b)\nratio_of_matches(a, b)\nratio_of_matches(b, a)\ncount_matches(a, b)\nmatching_tokens(a, b)\n\nny         <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\nca_match   <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\nca_nomatch <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-nomatch.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n\nny         <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ny,\n                                    meta = list(id = \"ny\"))\nca_match   <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ca_match,\n                                    meta = list(id = \"ca_match\"))\nca_nomatch <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ca_nomatch,\n                                    meta = list(id = \"ca_nomatch\"))\n\n# These two should have higher similarity scores\njaccard_similarity(ny, ca_match)\nratio_of_matches(ny, ca_match)\n\n# These two should have lower similarity scores\njaccard_similarity(ny, ca_nomatch)\nratio_of_matches(ny, ca_nomatch)\n\n}\n\\references{\nJure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman,\n  \\emph{Mining of Massive Datasets} (Cambridge University Press, 2011).\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/textreuse-package.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/textreuse-package.R\n\\docType{package}\n\\name{textreuse-package}\n\\alias{textreuse}\n\\alias{textreuse-package}\n\\title{textreuse: Detect Text Reuse and Document Similarity}\n\\description{\nTools for measuring similarity among documents and detecting passages which have been reused. Implements shingled n-gram, skip n-gram, and other tokenizers; similarity/dissimilarity functions; pairwise comparisons; minhash and locality sensitive hashing algorithms; and a version of the Smith-Waterman local alignment algorithm suitable for natural language.\n}\n\\details{\nThe best place to begin with this package in the introductory vignette.\n\n\\code{vignette(\"textreuse-introduction\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n\nAfter reading that vignette, the \"pairwise\" and \"minhash\" vignettes introduce\nspecific paths for working with the package.\n\n\\code{vignette(\"textreuse-pairwise\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n\n\\code{vignette(\"textreuse-minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n\n\\code{vignette(\"textreuse-alignment\", package = \"textreuse\")}\n\nAnother good place to begin with the package is the documentation for loading\ndocuments (\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} and\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}), for \\link{tokenizers},\n\\link[=similarity-functions]{similarity functions}, and\n\\link[=lsh]{locality-sensitive hashing}.\n}\n\\references{\nThe sample data provided in the \\code{extdata/ats} directory\n  contains nineteenth-century American Tract Society publications gathered\n  from the \\href{https://archive.org/}{Internet Archive}.\n\n  The sample data provided in the \\code{extdata/legal} directory, are taken\n  from the following nineteenth-century codes of civil procedure from\n  California and New York.\n\n  \\emph{Final Report of the Commissioners on Practice and Pleadings}, in 2\n  \\emph{Documents of the Assembly of New York}, 73rd Sess., No. 16, (1850):\n  243-250, sections 597-613.\n  \\href{http://books.google.com/books?id=9HEbAQAAIAAJ&pg=PA243#v=onepage&q&f=false}{Google\n   Books}.\n\n  \\emph{An Act To Regulate Proceedings in Civil Cases}, 1851 \\emph{California\n  Laws} 51, 51-53 sections 4-17; 101, sections 313-316.\n  \\href{http://books.google.com/books?id=4PHEAAAAIAAJ&pg=PA51#v=onepage&q&f=false}{Google\n   Books}.\n}\n\\seealso{\nUseful links:\n\\itemize{\n  \\item \\url{https://docs.ropensci.org/textreuse/}\n  \\item \\url{https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse}\n  \\item Report bugs at \\url{https://github.com/ropensci/textreuse/issues}\n}\n\n}\n\\author{\n\\strong{Maintainer}: Yaoxiang Li \\email{liyaoxiang@outlook.com} (\\href{https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9200-1016}{ORCID})\n\nAuthors:\n\\itemize{\n  \\item Lincoln Mullen \\email{lincoln@lincolnmullen.com} (\\href{https://orcid.org/0000-0001-5103-6917}{ORCID})\n}\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/token_index.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/token_index.R\n\\name{token_index}\n\\alias{token_index}\n\\title{Build an index of tokens and documents}\n\\usage{\ntoken_index(corpus, min_doc_count = 2, max_doc_count = Inf)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{corpus}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}} with retained tokens.}\n\n\\item{min_doc_count}{Minimum number of documents a token must appear in to\nbe retained. Increase this to remove rare tokens.}\n\n\\item{max_doc_count}{Maximum number of documents a token may appear in to be\nretained. Decrease this to remove very common tokens.}\n}\n\\value{\nA \\code{textreuse_token_index} data frame with columns \\code{token},\n  \\code{docs}, and \\code{n_docs}.\n}\n\\description{\nBuild an inverted index from tokens to the documents that contain them. This\nis useful for finding document pairs that share one or more n-grams without\ncomparing every document pair. The corpus must be created with\n\\code{keep_tokens = TRUE}.\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/token_index_candidates.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/token_index.R\n\\name{token_index_candidates}\n\\alias{token_index_candidates}\n\\title{Extract candidate document pairs from a token index}\n\\usage{\ntoken_index_candidates(index)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{index}{A \\code{textreuse_token_index} object returned by\n\\code{\\link{token_index}}.}\n}\n\\value{\nA \\code{textreuse_candidates} data frame.\n}\n\\description{\nExtract candidate document pairs from a token index\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/tokenize.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/tokenize.R\n\\name{tokenize}\n\\alias{tokenize}\n\\title{Recompute the tokens for a document or corpus}\n\\usage{\ntokenize(\n  x,\n  tokenizer,\n  ...,\n  hash_func = hash_string,\n  minhash_func = NULL,\n  keep_tokens = FALSE,\n  keep_text = TRUE\n)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{A \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.}\n\n\\item{tokenizer}{A function to split the text into tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{tokenizers}}.}\n\n\\item{...}{Arguments passed on to the \\code{tokenizer}.}\n\n\\item{hash_func}{A function to hash the tokens. See\n\\code{\\link{hash_string}}.}\n\n\\item{minhash_func}{A function to create minhash signatures. See\n\\code{\\link{minhash_generator}}.}\n\n\\item{keep_tokens}{Should the tokens be saved in the document that is\nreturned or discarded?}\n\n\\item{keep_text}{Should the text be saved in the document that is returned or\ndiscarded?}\n}\n\\value{\nThe modified \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or\n  \\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n}\n\\description{\nGiven a \\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}} or a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}, this function recomputes the tokens and hashes\nwith the functions specified. Optionally, it can also recompute the minhash signatures.\n}\n\\examples{\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, tokenizer = NULL)\ncorpus <- tokenize(corpus, tokenize_ngrams)\nhead(tokens(corpus[[1]]))\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/tokenizers.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/tokenizers.R\n\\name{tokenizers}\n\\alias{tokenizers}\n\\alias{tokenize_words}\n\\alias{tokenize_sentences}\n\\alias{tokenize_ngrams}\n\\alias{tokenize_skip_ngrams}\n\\title{Split texts into tokens}\n\\usage{\ntokenize_words(string, lowercase = TRUE)\n\ntokenize_sentences(string, lowercase = TRUE)\n\ntokenize_ngrams(string, lowercase = TRUE, n = 3)\n\ntokenize_skip_ngrams(string, lowercase = TRUE, n = 3, k = 1)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{string}{A character vector of length 1 to be tokenized.}\n\n\\item{lowercase}{Should the tokens be made lower case?}\n\n\\item{n}{For n-gram tokenizers, the number of words in each n-gram.}\n\n\\item{k}{For the skip n-gram tokenizer, the maximum skip distance between\nwords. The function will compute all skip n-grams between \\code{0} and\n\\code{k}.}\n}\n\\value{\nA character vector containing the tokens.\n}\n\\description{\nThese functions each turn a text into tokens. The \\code{tokenize_ngrams}\nfunctions returns shingled n-grams.\n}\n\\details{\nThese functions will strip all punctuation.\n}\n\\examples{\ndylan <- \"How many roads must a man walk down? The answer is blowin' in the wind.\"\ntokenize_words(dylan)\ntokenize_sentences(dylan)\ntokenize_ngrams(dylan, n = 2)\ntokenize_skip_ngrams(dylan, n = 3, k = 2)\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "man/wordcount.Rd",
    "content": "% Generated by roxygen2: do not edit by hand\n% Please edit documentation in R/wordcount.R\n\\name{wordcount}\n\\alias{wordcount}\n\\title{Count words}\n\\usage{\nwordcount(x)\n}\n\\arguments{\n\\item{x}{The object containing a text.}\n}\n\\value{\nAn integer vector for the word count.\n}\n\\description{\nThis function counts words in a text, for example, a character vector, a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseTextDocument}}, some other object that inherits from\n\\code{\\link[NLP]{TextDocument}}, or a all the documents in a\n\\code{\\link{TextReuseCorpus}}.\n}\n"
  },
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    "path": "pkgdown/extra.css",
    "content": ":root {\n  --bs-body-font-size: 16px;\n  --bs-body-line-height: 1.5;\n}\n\nbody,\n.contents,\n.template-home,\n.template-article,\n.template-reference-topic,\n.template-news,\n.ref-index {\n  font-size: 1rem;\n  line-height: 1.5;\n}\n\n.contents p,\n.contents li,\n.contents table,\n.contents dl,\n.contents .sourceCode,\n.contents pre,\n.contents code,\n.ref-description,\n.ref-usage,\n.ref-examples {\n  font-size: 1rem;\n}\n\npre,\ncode,\nkbd,\nsamp {\n  font-size: 1rem;\n}\n"
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  {
    "path": "src/RcppExports.cpp",
    "content": "// Generated by using Rcpp::compileAttributes() -> do not edit by hand\n// Generator token: 10BE3573-1514-4C36-9D1C-5A225CD40393\n\n#include <Rcpp.h>\n\nusing namespace Rcpp;\n\n#ifdef RCPP_USE_GLOBAL_ROSTREAM\nRcpp::Rostream<true>&  Rcpp::Rcout = Rcpp::Rcpp_cout_get();\nRcpp::Rostream<false>& Rcpp::Rcerr = Rcpp::Rcpp_cerr_get();\n#endif\n\n// hash_string\nIntegerVector hash_string(std::vector < std::string > x);\nRcppExport SEXP _textreuse_hash_string(SEXP xSEXP) {\nBEGIN_RCPP\n    Rcpp::RObject rcpp_result_gen;\n    Rcpp::RNGScope rcpp_rngScope_gen;\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< std::vector < std::string > >::type x(xSEXP);\n    rcpp_result_gen = Rcpp::wrap(hash_string(x));\n    return rcpp_result_gen;\nEND_RCPP\n}\n// shingle_ngrams\nCharacterVector shingle_ngrams(CharacterVector words, int n);\nRcppExport SEXP _textreuse_shingle_ngrams(SEXP wordsSEXP, SEXP nSEXP) {\nBEGIN_RCPP\n    Rcpp::RObject rcpp_result_gen;\n    Rcpp::RNGScope rcpp_rngScope_gen;\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< CharacterVector >::type words(wordsSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type n(nSEXP);\n    rcpp_result_gen = Rcpp::wrap(shingle_ngrams(words, n));\n    return rcpp_result_gen;\nEND_RCPP\n}\n// skip_ngrams\nCharacterVector skip_ngrams(CharacterVector words, int n, int k);\nRcppExport SEXP _textreuse_skip_ngrams(SEXP wordsSEXP, SEXP nSEXP, SEXP kSEXP) {\nBEGIN_RCPP\n    Rcpp::RObject rcpp_result_gen;\n    Rcpp::RNGScope rcpp_rngScope_gen;\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< CharacterVector >::type words(wordsSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type n(nSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type k(kSEXP);\n    rcpp_result_gen = Rcpp::wrap(skip_ngrams(words, n, k));\n    return rcpp_result_gen;\nEND_RCPP\n}\n// sw_matrix\nIntegerMatrix sw_matrix(IntegerMatrix m, CharacterVector a, CharacterVector b, int match, int mismatch, int gap, bool progress);\nRcppExport SEXP _textreuse_sw_matrix(SEXP mSEXP, SEXP aSEXP, SEXP bSEXP, SEXP matchSEXP, SEXP mismatchSEXP, SEXP gapSEXP, SEXP progressSEXP) {\nBEGIN_RCPP\n    Rcpp::RObject rcpp_result_gen;\n    Rcpp::RNGScope rcpp_rngScope_gen;\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< IntegerMatrix >::type m(mSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< CharacterVector >::type a(aSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< CharacterVector >::type b(bSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type match(matchSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type mismatch(mismatchSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< int >::type gap(gapSEXP);\n    Rcpp::traits::input_parameter< bool >::type progress(progressSEXP);\n    rcpp_result_gen = Rcpp::wrap(sw_matrix(m, a, b, match, mismatch, gap, progress));\n    return rcpp_result_gen;\nEND_RCPP\n}\n\nstatic const R_CallMethodDef CallEntries[] = {\n    {\"_textreuse_hash_string\", (DL_FUNC) &_textreuse_hash_string, 1},\n    {\"_textreuse_shingle_ngrams\", (DL_FUNC) &_textreuse_shingle_ngrams, 2},\n    {\"_textreuse_skip_ngrams\", (DL_FUNC) &_textreuse_skip_ngrams, 3},\n    {\"_textreuse_sw_matrix\", (DL_FUNC) &_textreuse_sw_matrix, 7},\n    {NULL, NULL, 0}\n};\n\nRcppExport void R_init_textreuse(DllInfo *dll) {\n    R_registerRoutines(dll, NULL, CallEntries, NULL, NULL);\n    R_useDynamicSymbols(dll, FALSE);\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "src/hash_string.cpp",
    "content": "#include <Rcpp.h>\n#include <boost/functional/hash.hpp>\nusing namespace Rcpp;\n\n//' Hash a string to an integer\n//' @param x A character vector to be hashed.\n//' @return A vector of integer hashes.\n//' @examples\n//' s <- c(\"How\", \"many\", \"roads\", \"must\", \"a\", \"man\", \"walk\", \"down\")\n//' hash_string(s)\n//' @export\n// [[Rcpp::export]]\nIntegerVector hash_string(std::vector < std::string > x) {\n\n  boost::hash<std::string> hash_fn;\n  unsigned int length = x.size();\n\n  IntegerVector hash_vec(length);\n\n  for(unsigned int i = 0; i < length; i++) {\n    if (i % 1024 == 0) Rcpp::checkUserInterrupt();\n    hash_vec[i] = hash_fn(x[i]);\n  }\n\n  return hash_vec;\n\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "src/shingle_ngrams.cpp",
    "content": "#include <Rcpp.h>\nusing namespace Rcpp;\n\n// Create shingled n-grams\n// [[Rcpp::export]]\nCharacterVector shingle_ngrams(CharacterVector words, int n) {\n  int out_length = words.size() - n + 1;\n  CharacterVector ngrams(out_length);\n  IntegerVector subset_sequence;\n  for(int i = 0; i < out_length; i++) {\n    if (i % 1024 == 0) Rcpp::checkUserInterrupt();\n    subset_sequence = i - 1 + seq_len(n);\n    CharacterVector subset = words[subset_sequence];\n    std::string ngram;\n    for(int j = 0; j < n; j++) {\n      ngram += subset[j];\n      if(j != n - 1) ngram += \" \";\n    }\n    ngrams[i] = ngram;\n  }\n  return ngrams;\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "src/skip_ngrams.cpp",
    "content": "#include <Rcpp.h>\nusing namespace Rcpp;\n\n// Skip n-grams\n// @param n = number of words in an n-gram\n// @param k = max number of words to skip\n// [[Rcpp::export]]\nCharacterVector skip_ngrams(CharacterVector words, int n, int k) {\n  int w = words.size(); // w = number of words\n  int g = 0; // g = number of n-grams\n  for(int i = k; i >= 0; i--) { // i = current iteration of k\n    int window = n + n * i - i; // width of n-grams plus skips\n    if(window > w) continue;\n    g += w - window + 1;\n  }\n  CharacterVector ngrams(g);\n\n  int position = 0; // position = place to store current ngram\n  while(k >= 0) { // loop over k in descending order\n\n    int window = n + n * k - k;\n    for(int i = 0; i < w - window + 1; i++) { // loop over the words\n      if (i % 1024 == 0) Rcpp::checkUserInterrupt();\n      NumericVector subset(n); // the subset we are going to make of words\n      for(int j = 0; j < n; j++) { // loop over number of n in ngrams\n        subset[j] = i + j + j * k;\n        // Rcpp::Rcout << \"j = \" << j << std::endl;\n        // Rcpp::Rcout << \"j + j * k = \" << j + j * k << std::endl;\n      }\n\n      CharacterVector words_subset = words[subset];\n\n\n      // turn the vector of words into a string\n      std::string ngram;\n      for(int l = 0; l < n; l++) {\n        ngram += words_subset[l];\n        if(l != n - 1) ngram += \" \";\n      }\n      // store the current ngram and iterate\n      ngrams[position] = ngram;\n      position++;\n\n    }\n    k--; // iterate k\n  }\n\n  return ngrams;\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "src/sw_matrix.cpp",
    "content": "#include <progress.hpp>\n#include <Rcpp.h>\nusing namespace Rcpp;\n\n// [[Rcpp::depends(RcppProgress)]]\n// [[Rcpp::export]]\nIntegerMatrix sw_matrix(IntegerMatrix m, CharacterVector a, CharacterVector b,\n                        int match, int mismatch, int gap, bool progress) {\n\n  int rows = b.length();\n  int cols = a.length();\n\n  Progress p(rows, progress);\n\n  for (int row_i = 0; row_i < rows; ++row_i) {\n\n    if (Progress::check_abort())\n      stop(\"Local alignment interrupted by user.\\n\");\n    p.increment();\n\n    int score, deletion, insertion, value;\n\n    for (int col_i = 0; col_i < cols; ++col_i) {\n\n      score = (a[col_i] == b[row_i] ? match : mismatch) + m(row_i, col_i);\n      deletion = m(row_i, col_i + 1) + gap;\n      insertion = m(row_i +1, col_i) + gap;\n      value = max(NumericVector::create(0, score, deletion, insertion));\n\n      m(row_i + 1, col_i + 1) = value;\n\n    }\n  }\n\n  return m;\n}\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/newman.txt",
    "content": "And now that I am about to trace, as far as I can, the course of that \ngreat revolution of mind, which led me to leave my own home, to which I \nwas bound by so many strong and tender ties, I feel overcome with the \ndifficulty of satisfying myself in the account of it, and have recoiled \nfrom doing so, till the near approach of the day, on which these lines \nmust be given to the world, forces me to set about the task. For who can \nknow himself, and the multitude of subtle influences which act upon him? \nand who can recollect, at the distance of twenty-five years, all that he \nonce knew about his thoughts and his deeds, and that, during a portion \nof his life, when even at the time his observation, whether of himself \nor of the external world, was less than before or after, by very reason \nof the perplexity and dismay which weighed upon him,—when, though it \nwould be most unthankful to seem to imply that he had not all-sufficient \nlight amid his darkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was? And who can \ngird himself suddenly to a new and anxious undertaking, which he might \nbe able indeed to perform well, had he full and calm leisure to look \nthrough everything that he has written, whether in published works or \nprivate letters? but, on the other hand, as to that calm contemplation \nof the past, in itself so desirable, who can afford to be leisurely and \ndeliberate, while he practises on himself a cruel operation, the ripping \nup of old griefs, and the venturing again upon the “infandum dolorem” of \nyears, in which the stars of this lower heaven were one by one going \nout? I could not in cool blood, nor except upon the imperious call of \nduty, attempt what I have set myself to do. It is both to head and heart \nan extreme trial, thus to analyze what has so long gone by, and to bring \nout the results of that examination. I have done various bold things in \nmy life: this is the boldest: and, were I not sure I should after all \nsucceed in my object, it would be madness to set about it.\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-TextReuseCorpus.R",
    "content": "context(\"TextReuseCorpus\")\n\nny <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\nca1 <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-nomatch.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\nca2 <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\npaths <- c(ca2, ca1, ny)\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nmeta <- list(\"Corpus name\" = \"B\")\ncorpus_a <- TextReuseCorpus(paths = paths, keep_tokens = TRUE)\ncorpus_b <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, keep_tokens = TRUE)\n\ntest_that(\"loads from paths or directory identically\", {\n  expect_identical(corpus_a, corpus_b)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has metadata\", {\n  expect_is(meta(corpus_a), \"list\")\n  meta(corpus_b) <- meta\n  expect_identical(meta(corpus_b), meta)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has accessor functions\", {\n  expect_equal(names(corpus_a), filenames(paths))\n  names(corpus_b) <- letters[1:3]\n  expect_equal(names(corpus_b), letters[1:3])\n  expect_equal(length(corpus_a), 3)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can read corpus files with an explicit encoding\", {\n  dir <- tempfile(\"encoded-corpus\")\n  dir.create(dir)\n  on.exit(unlink(dir, recursive = TRUE))\n  text <- enc2utf8(\"Café crème is naïve text.\")\n  writeBin(charToRaw(paste0(text, \"\\n\")), file.path(dir, \"encoded.txt\"))\n\n  corpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, encoding = \"UTF-8\", tokenizer = NULL)\n  expect_equal(as.character(content(corpus[[\"encoded\"]])), text)\n  expect_equal(Encoding(as.character(content(corpus[[\"encoded\"]]))), \"UTF-8\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has the right classes\", {\n  expect_is(corpus_a, \"TextReuseCorpus\")\n  expect_is(corpus_a, \"Corpus\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has subset methods\", {\n  expect_identical(corpus_a[[1]],\n                   TextReuseTextDocument(file = paths[1], keep_tokens = TRUE))\n  # by file path\n  expect_identical(corpus_a[[filenames(paths[3])]],\n                   TextReuseTextDocument(file = paths[3], keep_tokens = TRUE))\n  expect_equal(length(corpus_a[2:3]), 2)\n  expect_is(corpus_a[2:3], \"TextReuseCorpus\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"prints sensibly\", {\n  expect_output(print(corpus_a), \"TextReuseCorpus\")\n  expect_output(print(corpus_a), \"Number of documents: 3\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be retokenized\", {\n  expect_equal(tokens(corpus_a[[1]])[1:2],\n               tokenize_ngrams(content(corpus_a[[1]]))[1:2])\n  corpus_a <- tokenize(corpus_a, tokenize_words)\n  expect_equal(tokens(corpus_a[[1]])[1:2],\n               tokenize_words(content(corpus_a[[1]]))[1:2])\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has methods for tokens and hashes\", {\n  t <- tokens(corpus_a)\n  h <- hashes(corpus_b)\n  expect_is(h, \"list\")\n  expect_is(t, \"list\")\n  expect_is(t[[2]], \"character\")\n  expect_is(h[[1]], \"integer\")\n  expect_named(t, names(corpus_a))\n  expect_named(h, names(corpus_b))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can create corpus from a character vector with or without IDs\", {\n  doc_vec <- c(\"This is document one\", \"This is document two\")\n  doc_vec_named <- doc_vec\n  names(doc_vec_named) <- c(\"One\", \"Two\")\n  corpus_from_vec <- TextReuseCorpus(text = doc_vec, tokenize = NULL)\n  corpus_from_named <- TextReuseCorpus(text = doc_vec_named, tokenize = NULL)\n  expect_equal(length(corpus_from_vec), 2)\n  expect_equal(length(corpus_from_named), 2)\n  expect_equal(as.character(content(corpus_from_vec[[2]])),\n               \"This is document two\")\n  expect_equal(as.character(content(corpus_from_named[[1]])),\n               \"This is document one\")\n  expect_equal(meta(corpus_from_vec[[1]], \"id\"), \"doc-1\")\n  expect_equal(meta(corpus_from_named[[2]], \"id\"), \"Two\")\n  expect_equal(corpus_from_vec[[\"doc-2\"]], corpus_from_vec[[2]])\n  expect_equal(corpus_from_named[[\"One\"]], corpus_from_named[[1]])\n  expect_error(TextReuseCorpus(text = \"Document\", dir = \"/tmp\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skips documents that are too short\", {\n  texts <- c(\"short\" = \"Too short\", \"long\" = \"Just long enough yo\")\n  expect_warning(short_docs <- TextReuseCorpus(text = texts, skip_short = TRUE),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID\")\n  expect_lt(length(short_docs), length(texts))\n  expect_equal(skipped(short_docs), \"short\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skipped IDs are always available\", {\n  texts <- c(\"short-a\" = \"Too short\",\n             \"long\" = \"Just long enough yo\",\n             \"short-b\" = \"Also short\")\n  expect_warning(short_docs <- TextReuseCorpus(text = texts, skip_short = TRUE),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID\")\n  expect_equal(skipped(short_docs), c(\"short-a\", \"short-b\"))\n\n  all_docs <- TextReuseCorpus(text = texts, tokenizer = NULL,\n                              skip_short = FALSE)\n  expect_equal(skipped(all_docs), character())\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skips documents that are too short for skip n-grams\", {\n  texts <- c(\"short\" = \"one two three four five\",\n             \"long\" = \"one two three four five six seven\")\n  expect_warning(short_docs <- TextReuseCorpus(text = texts,\n                                               tokenizer = tokenize_skip_ngrams,\n                                               n = 3, k = 2,\n                                               skip_short = TRUE),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID\")\n  expect_equal(length(short_docs), 1)\n  expect_equal(names(short_docs), \"long\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"gives warning when skipping short documents from files\", {\n  skip_on_cran()\n  too_short <- tempfile(\"tooshort\", fileext = \".txt\")\n  too_short2 <- tempfile(\"tooshort2\", fileext = \".txt\")\n  writeLines(\"Two words\", too_short)\n  writeLines(\"Two words\", too_short2)\n  expect_warning(short <- TextReuseCorpus(paths = c(too_short, too_short2), n = 5),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID 'tooshort\")\n  expect_equal(length(short), 0)\n  file.remove(too_short)\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-TextReuseTextDocument.R",
    "content": "context(\"TextReuseTextDocument\")\n\ndoc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = \"newman.txt\", keep_tokens = TRUE)\ntest_meta <- list(id = \"test\")\n\ntest_that(\"inherits from the correct classes\", {\n  expect_is(doc, c(\"TextReuseTextDocument\", \"TextDocument\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has the correct structure\", {\n  expect_named(doc, c(\"content\", \"tokens\", \"hashes\", \"minhashes\", \"meta\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can set the metadata\", {\n  expect_named(meta(doc), c(\"file\", \"hash_func\", \"id\", \"minhash_func\",\n                            \"tokenizer\"))\n  doc2 <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = \"newman.txt\",\n                                meta = list(author = \"Newman, John Henry\"))\n  expect_named(meta(doc2), c(\"author\", \"file\", \"hash_func\", \"id\", \"tokenizer\"))\n  expect_equal(meta(doc2, \"author\"), \"Newman, John Henry\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"provides the necessary methods\", {\n  expect_is(as.character(doc), c(\"String\", \"character\"))\n  expect_is(content(doc), \"String\", \"character\")\n  expect_output(print(doc), \"And now that I am about to trace\")\n  expect_is(meta(doc), c(\"list\"))\n\n  doc3 <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = \"newman.txt\")\n  meta(doc3)    <- list(\"author\" = \"Newman, John Henry\")\n  expect_equal(meta(doc3), list(\"author\" = \"Newman, John Henry\"))\n  content(doc3) <- \"Replacing content\"\n  expect_equal(content(doc3), \"Replacing content\")\n  meta(doc3, \"author\") <- \"Cardinal Newman\"\n  expect_equal(meta(doc3, \"author\"), \"Cardinal Newman\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"has correct tokens\", {\n  expect_equal(head(doc$tokens, 3),\n               c(\"and now that\", \"now that i\", \"that i am\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be created from a character vector not just a file\", {\n  text <- \"This is the text of the document.\"\n  doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(text, meta = test_meta)\n  expect_equal(text, as.character(doc))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can read files with an explicit encoding\", {\n  text <- enc2utf8(\"Café crème is naïve text.\")\n  file <- tempfile(fileext = \".txt\")\n  writeBin(charToRaw(paste0(text, \"\\n\")), file)\n  on.exit(file.remove(file))\n\n  doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, encoding = \"UTF-8\",\n                               tokenizer = NULL)\n  expect_equal(as.character(doc), text)\n  expect_equal(Encoding(as.character(doc)), \"UTF-8\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be retokenized\", {\n  text <- \"This is the text. But also this.\"\n  a <- TextReuseTextDocument(text, meta = test_meta, tokenizer = tokenize_words,\n                             keep_tokens = TRUE)\n  b <- tokenize(a, tokenizer = tokenize_sentences, keep_tokens = TRUE)\n  expect_false(identical(tokens(a), tokens(b)))\n  expect_false(identical(hashes(a), hashes(b)))\n  expect_equal(tokens(a), c(\"this\", \"is\", \"the\", \"text\", \"but\", \"also\", \"this\"))\n  expect_equal(tokens(b), c(\"this is the text\", \"but also this\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can rehash if it has tokens\", {\n  tokenless <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = \"newman.txt\")\n  expect_true(has_tokens(doc))\n  expect_true(!has_tokens(tokenless))\n  expect_is(hashes(rehash(doc, hash_string)), \"integer\")\n  expect_error(rehash(tokenless), \"tokens\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be created with no tokens\", {\n  doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = \"newman.txt\", tokenizer = NULL)\n  expect_false(has_tokens(doc))\n  expect_false(has_hashes(doc))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skips documents that are too short\", {\n  expect_warning(short_doc <-\n                   TextReuseTextDocument(text = \"Too short\",\n                                         meta = list(id = \"short\"),\n                                         skip_short = TRUE),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID\")\n  expect_null(short_doc)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skips documents that are too short for skip n-grams\", {\n  text <- \"one two three four five\"\n  expect_warning(short_doc <-\n                   TextReuseTextDocument(text = text,\n                                         meta = list(id = \"short-skip\"),\n                                         tokenizer = tokenize_skip_ngrams,\n                                         n = 3, k = 2,\n                                         skip_short = TRUE),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID\")\n  expect_null(short_doc)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"gives warning when skipping short documents from file\", {\n  skip_on_cran()\n  too_short <- tempfile(\"tooshort\", fileext = \".txt\")\n  writeLines(\"Two words\", too_short)\n  expect_warning(short_doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = too_short, n = 5),\n                 \"Skipping document with ID 'tooshort\")\n  expect_null(short_doc)\n  file.remove(too_short)\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-alignment.R",
    "content": "context(\"Alignment\")\n\ntest_that(\"returns correct results with edits properly marked\", {\n  a <- \"How can we tell if this is a match, he asked?\"\n  b <- \"Surely, this is a good match, she replied.\"\n  res <- align_local(a, b)\n  expect_equal(res$a_edits, \"this is a #### match\")\n  expect_equal(res$b_edits, \"this is a good match\")\n  expect_is(res, \"list\")\n  expect_is(res, \"textreuse_alignment\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"works with TextReuseTextDocuments\", {\n  file_a <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\",\n                         package = \"textreuse\")\n  file_b <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\",\n                        package = \"textreuse\")\n  doc_a <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file_a)\n  doc_b <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file_b)\n  doc_res <- align_local(doc_a, doc_b)\n  expect_is(doc_res, \"textreuse_alignment\")\n  expect_gt(wordcount(doc_res$a_edits), 200)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"prints alignment with a trailing blank line\", {\n  res <- align_local(\"this is a match\", \"this is a match\")\n  output <- capture.output(print(res))\n  expect_equal(tail(output, 1), \"\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"returns empty alignment when there is no match\", {\n  expect_warning(res <- align_local(\"abc\", \"xyz\"), NA)\n  expect_equal(res$score, 0)\n  expect_equal(res$a_edits, \"\")\n  expect_equal(res$b_edits, \"\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can preserve punctuation in alignment output\", {\n  res <- align_local(\"Hello, world! This is a match.\",\n                     \"hello world this is a match\",\n                     preserve_punctuation = TRUE)\n  expect_equal(res$a_edits, \"Hello, world! This is a match.\")\n  expect_equal(res$b_edits, \"hello world this is a match\")\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-candidate_pairs.R",
    "content": "context(\"Candidate pairs\")\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\nm <- pairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\npairs <- pairwise_candidates(m)\n\ntest_that(\"returns a data frame with correct properties\", {\n  expect_equal(nrow(pairs), 6)\n  expect_is(pairs, \"data.frame\")\n  expect_is(pairs, \"tbl_df\")\n  expect_is(pairs, \"textreuse_candidates\")\n  expect_named(pairs, c(\"a\", \"b\", \"score\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be converted to matrix\", {\n  m <- as.matrix(pairs)\n  expect_is(m, \"matrix\")\n  expect_equal(names(corpus), colnames(m))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"matrix conversion can keep all document ids\", {\n  pairs_with_ids <- pairs[1, ]\n  attr(pairs_with_ids, \"all-doc-ids\") <- names(corpus)\n  m <- as.matrix(pairs_with_ids)\n  expect_equal(names(corpus), colnames(m))\n  expect_equal(names(corpus), rownames(m))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be converted to sparse matrix\", {\n  m <- as_sparse_matrix(pairs)\n  expect_is(m, \"dgCMatrix\")\n  expect_equal(names(corpus), colnames(m))\n  expect_equal(as.matrix(m), as.matrix(pairs))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-filenames.R",
    "content": "context(\"Filenames\")\n\npaths <- c(\"corpus/one.txt\", \"deep/corpus/two.R\", \"~/home/three.markdown\",\n           \"/corpus/four.md\", \"../corpus/five.text\")\ntest_that(\"properly returns filenames\", {\n  expect_equal(filenames(paths), c(\"one\", \"two\", \"three\", \"four\", \"five\"))\n  expect_equal(filenames(paths, extension = TRUE), basename(paths))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-hashing.R",
    "content": "context(\"Hashing\")\n\nlines  <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\") %>%\n  readLines()\nngrams <- lines %>%\n  str_c(collapse = \" \") %>%\n  tokenize_ngrams(n = 5)\n\nlines_hashed  <- hash_string(lines)\nngrams_hashed <- hash_string(ngrams)\n\ntest_that(\"returns correct values\", {\n  expect_is(lines_hashed, \"integer\")\n  expect_is(ngrams_hashed, \"integer\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"there are no collisions\", {\n  expect_equal(length(unique(lines)), length(unique(lines_hashed)))\n  expect_equal(length(unique(ngrams)), length(unique(ngrams_hashed)))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-jaccard.R",
    "content": "context(\"Jaccard coefficients\")\n\ntest_that(\"calculates the similarity coefficient correctly\", {\n  expect_equal(jaccard_similarity(1:3, 2:4), 0.5)\n  expect_equal(jaccard_similarity(letters[1:3], letters[2:3]), 2/3)\n  a <- sample(letters, 10, replace = TRUE)\n  b <- sample(letters, 10, replace = TRUE)\n  res <- jaccard_similarity(a, b)\n  expect_true(0 <= res & res <= 1)\n  })\n\ntest_that(\"calculates the dissimilarity coefficient correctly\", {\n  expect_equal(1 - jaccard_similarity(1:10, 8:11),\n               jaccard_dissimilarity(1:10, 8:11))\n  expect_equal(1 - jaccard_similarity(letters[1:5], letters[3:10]),\n               jaccard_dissimilarity(letters[1:5], letters[3:10]))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"works with TextReuseTextDocument\", {\n  ny <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n  ca <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n  ny <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ny)\n  ca <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = ca)\n  expect_is(jaccard_similarity(ny, ca), \"numeric\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"calculates bag similarity properly\", {\n  a <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"a\", \"b\")\n  b <- c(\"a\", \"a\", \"b\", \"b\", \"c\")\n  expect_equal(jaccard_bag_similarity(a, b), 1/3)\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-lsh.R",
    "content": "context(\"LSH\")\n\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\nminhash <- minhash_generator(200, seed = 9228)\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir,\n                          tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          keep_tokens = TRUE,\n                          minhash_func = minhash)\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 50)\ncandidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\nscores <- lsh_compare(candidates, corpus, jaccard_similarity)\n\ntest_that(\"returns a data frame\", {\n  expect_is(buckets, \"tbl_df\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"returns error if improper number of bands are chosen\", {\n  expect_error(lsh(corpus, bands = 33), \"The number of hashes\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"creates buckets without warnings\", {\n  expect_warning(lsh(corpus, bands = 50), NA)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"returns pairs of candidates without duplicates\", {\n  expect_is(candidates, \"data.frame\")\n  expect_named(candidates, c(\"a\", \"b\", \"score\"))\n  expect_equal(candidates[[1, 1]], \"ca1851-match\")\n  expect_equal(candidates[[1, 2]], \"ny1850-match\")\n  expect_equal(candidates[[1, 3]], NA_real_)\n  expect_equal(nrow(candidates), 1)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"additional documents can be added\", {\n  corpus2 <- rehash(corpus, minhash, type = \"minhashes\")\n  buckets1and2 <- lsh(corpus2[1:2], bands = 50)\n  buckets3 <- lsh(corpus2[[3]], bands = 50)\n  buckets_combined <- dplyr::bind_rows(buckets1and2, buckets3)\n  expect_equal(buckets_combined$buckets, buckets$buckets)\n  expect_equal(buckets_combined$doc, buckets$doc)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"lsh buckets can be extended with new documents\", {\n  corpus2 <- rehash(corpus, minhash, type = \"minhashes\")\n  buckets1and2 <- lsh(corpus2[1:2], bands = 50)\n  buckets_added <- lsh_add(buckets1and2, corpus2[[3]], bands = 50)\n  expect_is(buckets_added, \"lsh_buckets\")\n  expect_equal(buckets_added$buckets, buckets$buckets)\n  expect_equal(buckets_added$doc, buckets$doc)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"lsh buckets are replaced when adding an existing document\", {\n  corpus2 <- rehash(corpus, minhash, type = \"minhashes\")\n  buckets_added <- lsh_add(buckets[1:100, ], corpus2[[1]], bands = 50)\n  expect_equal(sum(buckets_added$doc == names(corpus2)[1]), 50)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"candidates can be scored\", {\n  correct <- jaccard_similarity(corpus[[\"ca1851-match\"]],\n                                corpus[[\"ny1850-match\"]])\n  expect_equal(scores[[1,3]], correct)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"pre-scored candidates are not recalculated\", {\n  candidates_scored <- candidates\n  candidates_scored$score[1] <- 1\n  rescored <- lsh_compare(candidates_scored, corpus, function(a, b) 0)\n  expect_equal(rescored$score[1], 1)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"scores can be converted to a matrix\", {\n  m <- as.matrix(scores)\n  expect_is(m, \"matrix\")\n  expect_equal(colnames(m), names(corpus))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"can be queried for a single document\", {\n  match <- lsh_query(buckets, \"ca1851-match\")\n  expect_equal(match$b, \"ny1850-match\")\n  expect_is(match, \"textreuse_candidates\")\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-minhash.R",
    "content": "context(\"Minhash\")\n\nmhash <- minhash_generator()\nfile <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\ndoc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, hash_func = mhash, keep_tokens = TRUE)\n\ntest_that(\"random integers can be generated\", {\n  expect_is(random_ints(3), \"integer\")\n  expect_equal(length(random_ints(5)), 5)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"minhash generator returns a proper function\", {\n  expect_is(mhash, \"function\")\n  e <- environment(mhash)\n  expect_is(e$r, \"integer\")\n  expect_equal(length(e$r), 200)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"minhash works on a TextReuseTextDocument\", {\n  expect_equal(length(hashes(doc)), 200)\n  expect_is(hashes(doc), \"integer\")\n  expect_equal(mhash(tokens(doc)), hashes(doc))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"minhash_generator can take seeds and generate same results\", {\n  mhash_a <- minhash_generator(n = 1000, seed = -5633)\n  mhash_b <- minhash_generator(n = 1000, seed = -5633)\n  mhash_c <- minhash_generator(n = 1000, seed = 12)\n  expect_equal(mhash_a(content(doc)), mhash_b(content(doc)))\n  expect_equal(mhash_a(content(doc)) == mhash_c(content(doc)), rep(FALSE, 1000))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-pairwise_cf.R",
    "content": "context(\"Pairwise comparison\")\n\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\ncf1 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity)\ncf2 <- pairwise_compare(corpus, ratio_of_matches, directional = TRUE)\n\ntest_that(\"returns matrix with correct properties\", {\n  expect_is(cf1, \"matrix\")\n  expect_equal(rownames(cf1), names(corpus))\n  expect_is(cf1[1, 3], \"numeric\")\n  expect_is(cf2[3, 1], \"numeric\")\n  expect_equal(cf1[lower.tri(cf1, diag = TRUE)], rep(NA_real_, 6))\n  expect_equal(cf2[diag(cf2)], rep(NA_real_, 3))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"peforms calculations as expected\", {\n  expect_equal(cf1[1,2], jaccard_similarity(corpus[[1]], corpus[[2]]))\n  expect_equal(cf2[3,2], ratio_of_matches(corpus[[3]], corpus[[2]]))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-ratio_of_matches.R",
    "content": "context(\"Ratio of matches\")\n\ntest_that(\"calculates the value correctly\", {\n  expect_equal(ratio_of_matches(1:4, 3:5), 2/3)\n  expect_equal(ratio_of_matches(letters[1:3], letters[3:4]), 0.5)\n  a <- sample(letters, 10, replace = TRUE)\n  b <- sample(letters, 10, replace = TRUE)\n  res <- ratio_of_matches(a, b)\n  expect_true(0 <= res & res <= 1)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"counts matches directly\", {\n  expect_equal(count_matches(1:4, 3:5), 2L)\n  expect_equal(count_matches(letters[1:3], letters[3:4]), 1L)\n  expect_equal(count_matches(c(\"a\", \"b\"), c(\"a\", \"a\", \"c\")), 2L)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"returns matching tokens\", {\n  expect_equal(matching_tokens(c(\"a\", \"b\"), c(\"a\", \"a\", \"c\")), c(\"a\", \"a\"))\n  expect_equal(matching_tokens(1:4, 3:5), 3:4)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"works with TextReuseTextDocument\", {\n  ny <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ny1850-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n  ca <- system.file(\"extdata/legal/ca1851-match.txt\", package = \"textreuse\")\n  ny <- TextReuseTextDocument(ny, meta = list(id = \"ny\"))\n  ca <- TextReuseTextDocument(ca, meta = list(id = \"ca\"))\n  expect_is(jaccard_similarity(ny, ca), \"numeric\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"counts and returns matching TextReuseTextDocument tokens\", {\n  a <- TextReuseTextDocument(\"one two three four\",\n                             meta = list(id = \"a\"),\n                             tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams,\n                             n = 2,\n                             keep_tokens = TRUE)\n  b <- TextReuseTextDocument(\"zero one two three\",\n                             meta = list(id = \"b\"),\n                             tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams,\n                             n = 2,\n                             keep_tokens = TRUE)\n  expect_equal(count_matches(a, b), 2L)\n  expect_equal(matching_tokens(a, b), c(\"one two\", \"two three\"))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-token_index.R",
    "content": "context(\"Token index\")\n\ntexts <- c(a = \"one two three four\",\n           b = \"one two three five\",\n           c = \"six seven eight nine\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(text = texts, tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 2,\n                          keep_tokens = TRUE)\n\ntest_that(\"token index maps tokens to documents\", {\n  index <- token_index(corpus, min_doc_count = 2)\n  expect_is(index, \"textreuse_token_index\")\n  expect_equal(index$token, c(\"one two\", \"two three\"))\n  expect_equal(index$n_docs, c(2L, 2L))\n  expect_equal(index$docs[[1]], c(\"a\", \"b\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"token index can remove common tokens\", {\n  index <- token_index(corpus, min_doc_count = 2, max_doc_count = 1)\n  expect_equal(nrow(index), 0)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"token index can return candidate pairs\", {\n  index <- token_index(corpus, min_doc_count = 2)\n  candidates <- token_index_candidates(index)\n  expect_is(candidates, \"textreuse_candidates\")\n  expect_equal(candidates$a, \"a\")\n  expect_equal(candidates$b, \"b\")\n  expect_equal(candidates$score, NA_real_)\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-tokenizers.R",
    "content": "context(\"Tokenizers\")\n\nsentence <- \"This is a sentence which has a number of words in it; also some\n             tricky puncuation and spacing. Does it work?\"\n\ntest_that(\"n-grams can be generated\", {\n  results <- c(\"this is a sentence which\",\n               \"is a sentence which has\",\n               \"a sentence which has a\",\n               \"sentence which has a number\",\n               \"which has a number of\",\n               \"has a number of words\",\n               \"a number of words in\",\n               \"number of words in it\",\n               \"of words in it also\",\n               \"words in it also some\",\n               \"in it also some tricky\",\n               \"it also some tricky puncuation\",\n               \"also some tricky puncuation and\",\n               \"some tricky puncuation and spacing\",\n               \"tricky puncuation and spacing does\",\n               \"puncuation and spacing does it\",\n               \"and spacing does it work\")\n  expect_equal(tokenize_ngrams(sentence, n = 5), results)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"different values of n work\", {\n  n3 <- tokenize_ngrams(sentence, n = 3)\n  n5 <- tokenize_ngrams(sentence, n = 5)\n\n  expect_equal(str_split(n3[1], boundary(\"word\"))[[1]] %>% length(), 3)\n  expect_equal(str_split(n5[1], boundary(\"word\"))[[1]] %>% length(), 5)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"ngrams can be uppercase\", {\n  sentence <- tokenize_ngrams(\"This is a Capital Word.\", n = 4, lowercase = FALSE)\n  results  <- c(\"This is a Capital\", \"is a Capital Word\")\n  expect_equal(sentence, results)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"word tokenizer works\", {\n  expect_equal(tokenize_words(\"There are several; WORDS here\"),\n               c(\"there\", \"are\", \"several\", \"words\", \"here\"))\n  expect_equal(tokenize_words(\"There are several; WORDS here\", lowercase = FALSE),\n               c(\"There\", \"are\", \"several\", \"WORDS\", \"here\"))\n})\n\n\ntest_that(\"sentence tokenizers works\", {\n  expect_equal(tokenize_sentences(\"This is a---sentence. This too.\"),\n               c(\"this is a sentence\", \"this too\"))\n  expect_equal(tokenize_sentences(\"This is a sentence. This too.\", lowercase = FALSE),\n               c(\"This is a sentence\", \"This too\"))\n})\n\ntest_that(\"tokenizers fail on non-strings\", {\n  text <- c(\"This is not a string\", \"because it is length two.\")\n  expect_error(tokenize_words(text), \"string is not a string\")\n  expect_error(tokenize_sentences(text), \"string is not a string\")\n  expect_error(tokenize_ngrams(text), \"string is not a string\")\n  expect_error(tokenize_skip_ngrams(text), \"string is not a string\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"skip n-grams behave as expected\", {\n  dylan <- \"How many roads must a man walk down\"\n  skips <- tokenize_skip_ngrams(dylan, n = 3, k = 2)\n  correct <- c(\"how many roads\", \"many roads must\", \"roads must a\", \"must a man\",\n               \"a man walk\", \"man walk down\", \"how must walk\", \"many a down\",\n               \"how roads a\", \"many must man\", \"roads a walk\", \"must man down\")\n  expect_equal(sort(skips), sort(correct))\n  expect_equal(tokenize_skip_ngrams(dylan, n = 5, k = 0),\n               tokenize_ngrams(dylan, n = 5))\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-utils.R",
    "content": "context(\"Utils\")\n\ntest_that(\"as_string returns the correct type\", {\n  s <- as_string(c(\"First\", \"Second\"))\n  expect_is(s, \"String\")\n  expect_equal(as.character(s), \"First\\nSecond\")\n})\n\ntest_that(\"data frames can be sorted by rows\", {\n  df1 <- data.frame(a = letters[1:3], b = letters[24:26], stringsAsFactors = FALSE)\n  df2 <- data.frame(a = letters[24:26], b = letters[1:3], stringsAsFactors = FALSE)\n  expect_identical(sort_df_by_rows(df2), df1)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"data frames can be sorted by columns\", {\n  df1 <- data.frame(a = letters[c(2, 3, 1)], b = letters[c(25, 26, 24)],\n                    stringsAsFactors = FALSE)\n  df2 <- data.frame(a = letters[1:3], b = letters[24:26],\n                    stringsAsFactors = FALSE)\n  df1 <- textreuse:::sort_df_by_columns(df1)\n  rownames(df1) <- NULL\n  rownames(df2) <- NULL\n  expect_identical(df1, df2)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"edit marks can be created correctly\", {\n  expect_equal(mark_chars(\"word\", \"#\"), \"####\")\n})\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat/test-wordcount.R",
    "content": "context(\"Word counts\")\n\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/legal\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir)\n\ntest_that(\"counts words correctly for different classes\", {\n  w <- c(\"One two three four five six seven; all good children go to heaven.\")\n  expect_equal(wordcount(w), 13)\n  w_doc <- TextReuseTextDocument(w, meta = list(id = \"test\"))\n  expect_equal(wordcount(w), 13)\n})\n\ntest_that(\"counts words for a corpus\", {\n  wc <- wordcount(corpus)\n  expect_true(!is.null(names(wc)))\n  wc <- unname(wc)\n})\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "tests/testthat.R",
    "content": "library(testthat)\nlibrary(textreuse)\n\ntest_check(\"textreuse\")\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "vignettes/textreuse-alignment.Rmd",
    "content": "---\ntitle: \"Text Alignment\"\nauthor:\n  - \"Lincoln Mullen\"\n  - \"Yaoxiang Li\"\ndate: \"`r Sys.Date()`\"\noutput: rmarkdown::html_vignette\nvignette: >\n  %\\VignetteIndexEntry{Text Alignment}\n  %\\VignetteEngine{knitr::rmarkdown}\n  %\\VignetteEncoding{UTF-8}\n---\n\nLocal alignment is the process of taking two documents and finding the best subset of each document that aligns with one another. A commonly used local alignment algorithm for genetics is the [Smith-Waterman algorithm](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Waterman_algorithm). This package offers a version of the Smith-Waterman algorithm intended to be used for natural language processing.\n\nConsider these two documents. The first is part of Shakespeare's *Measure for Measure*. The second is a made-up piece of literary criticism quoting the play, but our imaginary literary critic has bungled the quotation. This is a common class of problems (not bungling literary critics but) documents which contain pieces, often heavily modified, from other documents.\n\n```{r}\nshakespeare <- paste(\n  \"Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;\",\n  \"Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE.\",\n  \"Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested;\",\n  \"Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage.\",\n  \"We do condemn thee to the very block\",\n  \"Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste.\",\n  \"Away with him!\")\ncritic <- paste(\n  \"The play comes to its culmination where Duke Vincentio, quoting from\",\n  \"the words of the Sermon on the Mount, says,\",\n  \"'Haste still goes very quickly , and leisure answers leisure;\",\n  \"Like doth cancel like, and measure still for measure.'\",\n  \"These titular words sum up the meaning of the play.\")\n```\n\nWe can uses the local alignment function to extract the part of the text that was borrowed. Notice that the resulting object shows us the changes that have been made.\n\n```{r}\nlibrary(textreuse)\nalign_local(shakespeare, critic)\n```\n\nSee the documentation for the function to see how to tune the match: `?align_local`. This function works with character vectors or with documents of class `TextReuseTextDocument`.\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "vignettes/textreuse-introduction.Rmd",
    "content": "---\ntitle: \"Introduction to the textreuse package\"\nauthor:\n  - \"Lincoln Mullen\"\n  - \"Yaoxiang Li\"\ndate: \"`r Sys.Date()`\"\noutput: rmarkdown::html_vignette\nvignette: >\n  %\\VignetteIndexEntry{Introduction to the textreuse package}\n  %\\VignetteEngine{knitr::rmarkdown}\n  %\\VignetteEncoding{UTF-8}\n---\n\nThe textreuse package provides classes and functions to detect document similarity and text reuse in text corpora. This introductory vignette provides details on the `TextReuseTextDocument` and `TextReuseCorpus` classes, as well as functions for tokenizing, hashing, and measuring similarity. See the pairwise, minhash/LSH, or alignment vignettes for details on solving text similarity problems.\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\nvignette(\"textreuse-pairwise\", package = \"textreuse\")\nvignette(\"textreuse-minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")\nvignette(\"textreuse-alignment\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n\nFor this vignette we will use a small corpus of eight documents published by the [American Tract Society](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Tract_Society) and available from the Internet Archive.\n\n## TextReuse classes\n\n### TextReuseTextDocument\n\nThe most basic class provided by this package is the `TextReuseTextDocument` class. This class contains the text of a document and its metadata. When the document is loaded, the text is also tokenized. (See the section on tokenizers below.) Those tokens are then hashed using a hash function. By default the hashes are retained and the tokens are discarded, since using only hashes results in a significant memory savings. \n\nHere we load a file into a `TextReuseTextDocument` and tokenize it into shingled n-grams, adding an option to retain the tokens.\n\n```{r}\nlibrary(textreuse)\nfile <- system.file(\"extdata/ats/remember00palm.txt\", \n                    package = \"textreuse\")\ndoc <- TextReuseTextDocument(file = file, meta = list(\"publisher\" = \"ATS\"),\n                             tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                             keep_tokens = TRUE)\ndoc\n```\n\nWe can see details of the document with accessor functions. These are derived from the S3 virtual class `TextDocument ` in the [NLP](https://cran.r-project.org/package=NLP) package. Notice that an ID has been assigned to the document based on the filename (without the extension). The name of the tokenizer and hash functions are also saved in the metadata.\n\n```{r}\nmeta(doc)\nmeta(doc, \"id\")\nmeta(doc, \"date\") <- 1865\nhead(tokens(doc))\nhead(hashes(doc))\nwordcount(doc)\n```\n\nThe `tokens()` and `hashes()` function return the tokens and hashes associated with the document. The `meta()` function returns a named list of all the metadata fields. If that function is called with a specific ID, as in `meta(doc, \"myfield\")`, then the value for only that field is returned. You can also assign to the metadata as a whole or a specific field, as in the example above.\n\nIn addition the `content()` function provides the unprocessed text of the document.\n\nThe assumption is that is that you want to tokenize and hash the tokens from the start. If, however, you wish to do any of those steps yourself, you can load a document with `tokenizer = NULL`, then use `tokenize()` or `rehash()` to recompute the tokens and hashes.\n\nNote that a `TextReuseTextDocument` can actually contain two kinds of hashes. The `hashes()` accessor gives you integer representations of each of the tokens in the document: if there are 100,000 tokens in the document, there will be 100,000 hashes. The `minhashes()` accessor gives you a signature that represents the document as a whole but not the specific tokens within it. See the minhash vignette for details: `vignette(\"textreuse-minhash\")`.\n\n### TextReuseCorpus\n\nThe class `TextReuseCorpus` provides a list of `TextReuseTextDocuments`. It derives from the S3 virtual class `Corpus` in the [tm](https://cran.r-project.org/package=tm) package. It can be created from a directory of files (or by providing a vector of paths to files).\n\n```{r}\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/ats\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          progress = FALSE)\ncorpus\n```\n\nThe names of the items in a `TextReuseCorpus` are the IDs of the documents. You can use these IDs to subset the corpus or to retrieve specific documents.\n\n```{r}\nnames(corpus)\ncorpus[[\"remember00palm\"]]\ncorpus[c(\"calltounconv00baxt\", \"lifeofrevrichard00baxt\")]\n```\n\nAccessor functions such as `meta()`, `tokens()`, `hashes()`, and `wordcount()` have methods that work on corpora.\n\n```{r}\nwordcount(corpus)\n```\n\nNote that when creating a corpus, very short or empty documents will be skipped with a warning. A document must have enough words to create at least two n-grams. For example, if five-grams are desired, then the document must have at least six words.\n\n## Tokenizers\n\nOne of the steps that is performed when loading a `TextReuseTextDocument`, either individual or in a corpus, is tokenization. Tokenization breaks up a text into pieces, often overlapping. These pieces are the features which are compared when measuring document similarity.\n\nThe textreuse package provides a number of tokenizers.\n\n```{r}\ntext <- \"How many roads must a man walk down\\nBefore you'll call him a man?\"\n\ntokenize_words(text)\ntokenize_sentences(text)\ntokenize_ngrams(text, n = 3)\ntokenize_skip_ngrams(text, n = 3, k = 2)\n```\n\nYou can write your own tokenizers or use tokenizers from other packages. They should accept a character vector as their first argument.\n\nAs an example, we will write a tokenizer function using the \\link[stringr]{stringr} package which splits a text on new lines, perhaps useful for poetry. Notice that the function takes a single string and returns a character vector with one element for each line. (A more robust tokenizer might strip blank lines and punctuation, include an option for lowercasing the text, and check for the validity of arguments.)\n\n```{r}\npoem <- \"Roses are red\\nViolets are blue\\nI like using R\\nAnd you should too\"\ncat(poem)\n\ntokenize_lines <- function(string) {\n  stringr::str_split(string, \"\\n+\")[[1]]\n}\n\ntokenize_lines(poem)\n```\n\n## Hash functions\n\nThis package provides one function to hash tokens to integers, `hash_string()`. \n```{r}\nhash_string(tokenize_words(text))\n```\n\nYou can write your own hash functions, or use those provided by the [digest](https://cran.r-project.org/package=digest) package.\n\n## Comparison functions\n\nThis package provides a number of comparison functions for measuring similarity. These functions take either a set (in which each token is counted one time) or a bag (in which each token is counted as many times as it appears) and compares it to another set or bag.\n\n```{r}\na <- tokenize_words(paste(\"How does it feel, how does it feel?\",\n                          \"To be without a home\",\n                          \"Like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone\"))\nb <- tokenize_words(paste(\"How does it feel, how does it feel?\",\n                          \"To be on your own, with no direction home\",\n                          \"A complete unknown, like a rolling stone\"))\n\njaccard_similarity(a, b)\njaccard_dissimilarity(a, b)\njaccard_bag_similarity(a, b)\nratio_of_matches(a, b)\n```\n\nSee the documentation for `?similarity-functions` for details on what is measured with these functions.\n\nYou can write your own similarity functions, which should accept two sets or bags, `a` and `b`, should work on both character and numeric vectors, since they are used with either tokens or hashes of tokens, and should return a single numeric score for the comparison. You will need to implement a method for the `TextReuseTextDocument` class.\n\n## Parallelization\n\nThis package will use multiple cores for a few functions if an option is set. This benefits corpus loading, tokenizing, and LSH candidate scoring, which are often among the slowest parts of an analysis. This is implemented with the [parallel package](https://cran.r-project.org/view=HighPerformanceComputing), and does not work on Windows machines. (Regardless of the options set, this package will never attempt to parallelize computations on Windows.)\n\nTo use the parallel option, you must specify the number of CPU cores that you wish to use:\n\n```{R eval = FALSE}\noptions(\"mc.cores\" = 4L)\n```\n\nIf that option is set, this package will use multiple cores when possible.\n\nYou can figure out how many cores your computer has with `parallel::detectCores()`. See `help(package = \"parallel\")` for more details.\n\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "vignettes/textreuse-minhash.Rmd",
    "content": "---\ntitle: \"Minhash and locality-sensitive hashing\"\nauthor:\n  - \"Lincoln Mullen\"\n  - \"Yaoxiang Li\"\ndate: \"`r Sys.Date()`\"\noutput: rmarkdown::html_vignette\nvignette: >\n  %\\VignetteIndexEntry{Minhash and locality-sensitive hashing}\n  %\\VignetteEngine{knitr::rmarkdown}\n  %\\VignetteEncoding{UTF-8}\n---\n\n```{r, echo=FALSE, message=FALSE}\nlibrary(\"dplyr\")\n```\n\nPerforming pairwise comparisons in a corpus is time-consuming because the number of comparisons grows geometrically with the size of the corpus. Most of those comparisons, furthermore, are unnecessary because they do not result in matches. The combination of minhash and locality-sensitive hashing (LSH) seeks to solve these problems. They make it possible to compute possible matches only once for each document, so that the cost of computation grows linearly rather than exponentially. This vignette explains how to use the minhash and locality-sensitive hashing functions in this package. For an explanation of why they work, see Jure Leskovec, Anand Rajaraman, and Jeff Ullman, *Mining of Massive Datasets* (Cambridge University Press, 2011), ch. 3. (This [blog post](https://matthewcasperson.blogspot.com/2013/11/minhash-for-dummies.html) is a more succinct explanation.)\n\nWe begin by creating a minhash function. A minhash function converts tokenized text into a set of hash integers, then selects the minimum value. This is the equivalent of randomly selecting a token. The function then does the same thing repeatedly with different hashing functions, in effect selecting `n` random shingles. The additional hashing functions come from a bitwise XOR with random integers. That is why the `minhash_generator()` accepts a seed, so that we can re-create the same minhash function again. In other words, a minhash function converts a set of tokens of any length into `n` randomly selected and hashed tokens.\n\n```{r}\nlibrary(textreuse)\nminhash <- minhash_generator(n = 240, seed = 3552)\nhead(minhash(c(\"turn tokens into\", \"tokens into hashes\", \"into hashes fast\")))\n```\n\nNow when we load our corpus, we will tokenize our texts as usual, but we will use our generated `minhash()` function to compute the hashes. We specify that we want to create a minhash signature by passing our minhash function to the `minhash_func =` parameter.\n\n```{r}\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/ats\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          minhash_func = minhash, keep_tokens = TRUE,\n                          progress = FALSE)\n```\n\nWe can verify that we have minhashes in our corpus:\n\n```{r}\nhead(minhashes(corpus[[1]]))\nlength(minhashes(corpus[[1]]))\n```\n\n\nNow all our documents are represented by `n = 240` randomly selected and hashed shingles. Comparing those shingles should be the equivalent of finding the Jaccard similarity of the two documents. However, we still have the problem of pairwise comparison.\n\nThe locality-sensitive hashing algorithm, provided in this package by the `lsh()` function, solves this problem. LSH breaks the minhashes into a series of bands comprised of rows. For example, 200 minhashes might broken into 50 bands of 4 rows each. Each band is hashed to a bucket. If two documents have the exact same minhashes in a band, they will be hashed to the same bucket, and so will be considered candidate pairs. Each pair of documents has as many chances to be considered a candidate as their are bands, and the fewer rows there are in each band, the more likely it is that each document will match another.\n\nHow likely is it, then, that we will detect a match? The probability of a match depends on the Jaccard similarity of a pair of documents. The more similar two documents are, the more likely they are to be considered candidates, which is what we want. The probability of a match is an S-curve (see Leskovec, Rajaraman, and Ullman), so there is a threshold Jaccard similarity above which documents are likely to be a match. We can calculate the likely threshold based on the number of minhashes and bands that we are using.\n\n```{r}\nlsh_threshold(h = 200, b = 50)\nlsh_threshold(h = 240, b = 80)\n```\n\nUsing 240 minhashes and 80 bands, we will likely detect documents with an actual Jaccard similarity of above 0.232. We can also estimate the probability that a pair of documents with a Jaccard similarity `s` will be marked as potential matches.\n\n```{r}\nlsh_probability(h = 240, b = 80, s = 0.25)\nlsh_probability(h = 240, b =  80, s = 0.75)\n```\n\nThese numbers seem reasonable for our purposes, so we will set the number of minhashes at 240 and the number of bands at 80.\n\nNow we can use the `lsh()` function to calculate the locality-sensitive hashes for our documents. \n\n```{r}\nbuckets <- lsh(corpus, bands = 80, progress = FALSE)\nbuckets\n```\n\nNote that using the LSH method only requires us to calculate the signatures (or buckets) for each document one time. This implies that we can take several data frames of LSH signatures and bind their rows together (e.g., with `dplyr::bind_rows()`). This permits us to compute the signatures for only part of a corpus at a time, or to continue to add to the corpus. Note, however, that you **must** use the same minhash function, generating the same number of minhashes and using the same seed and you **must** use the same number of bands in order to get valid results.\n\nWe can extract the potential matches from the cache using `lsh_query()` or  `lsh_candidates()`. The first function returns matches for only one document, specified by its ID; the second functions returns all potential pairs of matches.\n\n```{r}\nbaxter_matches <- lsh_query(buckets, \"calltounconv00baxt\")\nbaxter_matches\ncandidates <- lsh_candidates(buckets)\ncandidates\n```\n\nNotice that LSH has identified the same three pairs of documents as potential matches that we found with pairwise comparisons, but did so much faster. But we do not have similarity scores; we only know that these documents are likely to have Jaccard similarity scores above the `r round(lsh_threshold(h = 240, b = 80), 3)` threshold.\n\nNow we can use `lsh_compare()` to apply a similarity function to the candidate pairs of documents. Note that we only have to do 3 comparisons for all the candidates, instead of 28 pairs when comparing all 8 documents in the corpus pairwise.\n\n```{r}\nlsh_compare(candidates, corpus, jaccard_similarity, progress = FALSE)\n```\n\nNote that these results are identical to what we calculated in the pairwise vignette, but required much less computation.\n"
  },
  {
    "path": "vignettes/textreuse-pairwise.Rmd",
    "content": "---\ntitle: \"Pairwise comparisons for document similarity\"\nauthor:\n  - \"Lincoln Mullen\"\n  - \"Yaoxiang Li\"\ndate: \"`r Sys.Date()`\"\noutput: rmarkdown::html_vignette\nvignette: >\n  %\\VignetteIndexEntry{Pairwise comparisons for document similarity}\n  %\\VignetteEngine{knitr::rmarkdown}\n  %\\VignetteEncoding{UTF-8}\n---\n\nThe most straightforward way to compare documents within a corpus is to compare each document to every other document. \n\nFirst we will load the corpus and tokenize it with shingled n-grams.\n\n```{r}\nlibrary(textreuse)\ndir <- system.file(\"extdata/ats\", package = \"textreuse\")\ncorpus <- TextReuseCorpus(dir = dir, tokenizer = tokenize_ngrams, n = 5,\n                          progress = FALSE)\n```\n\nWe can use any of the comparison functions to compare two documents in the corpus. (Note that these functions, when applied to documents, compare their hashed tokens and not the tokens directly.)\n\n```{r}\njaccard_similarity(corpus[[\"remember00palm\"]], \n                   corpus[[\"remembermeorholy00palm\"]])\n```\n\nThe `pairwise_compare()` function applies a comparison function to each pair of documents in a corpus. The result is a matrix with the scores for each comparison.\n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\ncomparisons <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity, progress = FALSE)\ncomparisons[1:4, 1:4]\n```\n\n```{r, echo=FALSE}\ncomparisons <- pairwise_compare(corpus, jaccard_similarity, progress = FALSE)\nround(comparisons[1:3, 1:3], digits = 3)\n```\n\nIf you prefer, you can convert the matrix of all comparisons to a data frame of pairs and scores. Here we create the data frame and keep only the pairs with scores above a significant value.\n\n```{r}\ncandidates <- pairwise_candidates(comparisons)\ncandidates[candidates$score > 0.1, ]\n```\n\nThe pairwise comparison method is inadequate for a corpus of any size, however. For a corpus of size $n$, the number of comparisons (assuming the comparisons are commutative) is $\\frac{n^2 - n}{2}$. A corpus of 100 documents would require 4,950 comparisons; a corpus of 1,000 documents would require 499,500 comparisons. A better approach for corpora of any appreciable size is to use the minhash/LSH algorithms described in another vignette: \n\n```{r eval=FALSE}\nvignette(\"minhash\", package = \"textreuse\")\n```\n"
  }
]