FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY JMirtsioii ' ^d- CL. JAl hn.sif a-A I /V *» tsiL~ J/ L+- /—'I /^— far J'acuu? tAe TMe. /i,mt.i/ *rJUbta»U /t.l. Eimaved /»- ./ /. >A '/ / U v/ > ,y (~ A *■ ///,r //i . M \ U //,///li'. // / /, /.i/s / r/ ./'.<,/,„, (7,,,/n/ //,v^,yv/ /;,v,- '£,, where he received kind attention; and was thence brought home in a hackney coach. On examination it was found, though his arm was much bruised and discoloured, that no serious injury had been received. He attributed this, under the mercy of God, to his shoulder not having borne the whole weight of the wheel, which be- ing broad, was, at the moment it was going over, eased, as he supposed, from his shoulder, by the inner part of it being raised by a stone rather more elevated in the pavement than the rest. In this situation of danger he was mercifully preserved from broken bones, or instant death. He hung up his hat in his study (with the indentation and dirt) as a memento. He said that he had learnt three lessons from this providence :— First, that, while we are called on to use all proper means and precau- tions of safety, God will sometimes shew us our absolute and immediate dependance on Him, by making the very means which we employ the oc- casion of bringing us to the very borders of the grave. He thought it his duty to avoid the stones as much as possible, and yet here danger met him. A second lesson gathered from this event, was, the comparative trifling- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 4 Children," which greatly affected him, and made him retire into a corner to pray ; but his serious beginnings wore off; and he at length made such progress in sin, that he gloried in his shame. Mr. C's father, intending him for business, placed him in a considerable House in the City : from this he was removed to another, where he staid longer; but returned home through illness. He felt wholly averse to trade, but was devoted to literature and the arts. At a very early age he wrote pieces; which he sent on hazard to the editors of the pe- riodical publications, who thought them worthy of insertion. His father, a man of extensive reading, and who had himself received a classical educa- tion, accidentally met with a poetical piece which he greatly admired: his son affirmed himself the author of it ; but his father thought it incredible, ness of the cases, which occupy and harass the mind. He had been much exercised aud depressed by some circumstances of domestic trial. They had almost wholly occupied his thoughts, and appeared of deep interest and importance. But he compared them now with that far heavier trial which his family was so near encountering, of seeing him brought home a corpse, and he then felt them to be comparatively trifles, and to be treated as trifles. A third lesson, he said, was very obvious, but it was now brought home with peculiar force to him, and that was — to be always ready. " I went out yesterday, and I came in again with safety. I am going out to-day, and I shall return when my business is finished" — " No !" — the Lord may say concerning me, " you shall return no more. Your time is come. My messenger waits for you with a summons!" He attended divine service on the following Sunday, though he did not think it prudent to preach. Thanks were publicly returned by him in the congregation, and the psalms sung in the course of the service bore such an allusion to his deliverance, and were so admirably selected for this pur- pose, that the congregation was evidently much affected by the service. 6 MEMOIR OF THE till his son, taking another subject given him by his father, and retiring a short time, produced a poem which satisfied his father that he was the author of the one in question. Mr. Cecil had a marvellous power and flexibi- lity of mind, which would have rendered him dis- tinguished, in whatever he had pursued. He had an affection for all the Arts, but his predominant passion was for painting. This he pursued insati- ably. He attended all picture sales, and practised at home ; and was so intent on his point, that he set out unknown to his parents on a ramble to France, from a desire to see the paintings of the greatest Masters, and would have proceeded to Rome, had not the means of travelling failed. He returned home, and continued to live with his fa- ther ; who perceiving his ardour for painting did not abate, at length proposed his going to Rome, (where he had an acquaintance) as an Artist. To this proposal Mr. C. agreed ; but a circumstance took place which prevented it, and he remained still under the roof of his father for some time — sunk in the depths of sin, and hardening his con- science by reading books of infidelity, till he be- came a professed Infidel himself. He endeavoured to instil the same principles into others : with some he awfully succeeded, whom he since endeavoured to reclaim, but in vain. While Mr. C. was proceeding in such a course of evil, it pleased God by his Spirit to rouse his- REV. RICHARD CECIL. I mind to reflections, which gave a turn to his fu- ture life. Lying one night in bed, he was contemplating the case of his mother. " I see," said he, within himself, " two unquestionable facts. First, my mother is greatly afflicted, in circumstances, body, and mind ; and yet I see that she cheerfully bears up under all, by the support she derives from con- stantly retiring to her closet and her Bible. Se- condly, that she has a secret spring of comfort of which I know nothing ; while I, who give an un- bounded loose to my appetites, and seek pleasure by every means, seldom or never find it. If how- ever there is any such secret in religion, why may not I attain it as well as my mother ? — I will im- mediately seek it of God." He instantly rose in his bed and began to pray. But he was soon damped in his attempt, by recollecting that much of his mother's comfort seemed to arise from her faith in Christ. " Now," thought he, " this Christ have I ridiculed : He stands much in my way, and can form no part of my prayers." In utter confusion of mind, therefore, he lay down again. Next day, however, he continued to pray to " the Supreme Being :" he began to consult books and to attend preachers : his difficulties were gradually removed, and his objections answered ; and his course of life began to amend. He now listened to the pious admonitions of his mother, which he had before affected to receive with pride and scorn : yet they 8 MEMOIR OF THE had fixed themselves in his heart, like a barbed arrow ; and, though the effects were at the time concealed from her observation, yet tears would fall from his eyes as he passed along the streets from the impression she had left on his mind. Now, he would discourse with her, and hear her without outrage ; which led her to hope, that a gracious principle was forming in his heart, and more espe- cially as he then attended the preaching of the Word. Thus he made some progress; but felt no small difficulty in separating from his favourite connections. Light, however, broke into his mind, till he gradually discovered that Jesus Christ, so far from " standing in his way*," was the only way, the truth, and the life, to all that come unto God by Him. While Mr. C. pursued this new course, his father began to take alarm ; and said to him one evening " I know not what to do with you. I have made two experiments for your subsistence : I have of- fered to bring you into my own business, which at my death will be as good as an estate to you : you have rejected all my proposals. You now seem to be taking a religious turn : but I tell you plainly, that, if you connect yourself with Dissenters or Sectaries, I will do nothing for you, living or dy- ing; but if you chuse to go regularly into the Church, I will not only bear the expense of a Uni- versity, for which you have had some education, * Mr. Cecil's own expression. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 9 but I will buy you a Living on your entering into Orders." Mr. C. promised to consider this pro- posal ; and, finding his father continued in the same mind, he went (on the recommendation of Dr. Bacon, an old family acquaintance) to Queen's College, Oxford, May 19, 1773. I have heard him mention, with much feeling, many deep and secret conflicts of mind with which he was exercised while at College : added to which, he had to meet many insults which profligate men offer to piety. Under these impressions, he was one day walking in the Physic Gardens, where he observed a very fine Pomegranate Tree, cut almost through the stem, near the root. On asking the gardener the reason of this, " Sir," said he, " this tree used to shoot so strong, that it bore nothing but leaves. I was therefore obliged to cut it in this manner; and when it was almost cut through, then it began to bear plenty of fruit." The gar- dener's explanation of this act conveyed a striking illustration to Mr. C's mind, and he went back to his rooms comforted and instructed by this image. On Sept. 22d, 1776, Mr. Cecil was ordained Deacon on the Title of The Rev. Mr. Pus>h, of Rauceby, in Lincolnshire. In the Lent Term fol- lowing, he took the degree of B. A. with great credit; and, soon after, took his name off the books. On Feb. 23d, 1777, he was admitted to Priest's Orders. With Mr. Pugh he staid but a short time ; for at Mr. Pugh's request, he went to serve three 10 MEMOIR OF THE Churches in Leicestershire. These Churches were Thornton, Bagworth, and Markfield. The object of his going thither was that of serving the Churches till Mr. Abbott, the son of the deceased Vicar, should be able to take the charge of them. The end of his being sent thither, appears still more important. On his going forth in this beginning of his Mis- sion, he found little of real religion in these Churches ; but by means of his ministry, a general attention to the truth was excited among the peo- ple, and many of them believed and clave unto the Lord. Mr. Abbott, in particular, and a sister of his, owed to Mr. Cecil, under the divine blessing, their knowledge and belief of the truth: and, at length a flourishing congregation was formed in each of the Churches. Mr. C. laboured to awaken the mind of Mr. Abbott, not merely to the necessity of embracing the truth, but that he might continue in the things which he had learned, and preach among the peo- ple the glorious Gospel of the Blessed God, which ivas committed to his trust. Mr. Cecil, anxious that these " Plants of his hand, and children of his prayer"— should not be left like sheep without a shepherd, earnestly urged on Mr. Abbott his responsibility as a Minister — the obligation of making full proof of his ministry — and the infinite consequences at- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 11 taching to his holy function. It pleased God to bless his endeavours : and Mr. Abbott, not only received the truth in the knowledge of it, but in the love of it, and became a faithful and upright Mi- nister. He died in early life. On Mr. Cecil's return to Rauceby, he found a letter informing him, that, by the interest of friends, two small Livings had been obtained for him, at Lewes, in Sussex. This was a great disappoint- ment to Mr. Pugh, who, at that time, wished to go to Bath ; but he generously dismissed his Curate, and accordingly Mr. C. proceeded to take pos- session of his Livings. At Lewes, residing in a damp situation, near one of his Churches, he was long afflicted with a rheu- matic disorder in his head ; and, at length, was disabled for duty for several months, and was un- der the necessity of procuring a Curate. I have heard him mention, with much feeling, a very sin- gular providence, which occurred to him on his going from London to Lewes to serve these Churches. Instead of his leaving town early in the morning, the farrier, who shod his horse, de- tained him till noon ; in consequence of which, he did not arrive on East Grinstead Common, till after it was dark. On this Common he met a man on horseback, who appeared to be intoxicated, and ready to fall from his horse at every step. Mr. C. called to him, and warned him of his danger ; which the man disregarding, with his usual bene- 12 MEMOIR OF THE volence he rode up to him, in order to prevent his falling, when the man immediately seized the reins of Mr. C's horse; who, perceiving he was in bad hands, endeavoured to break away, on which the man threatened to knock him down if he repeated the attempt. Three other men on horseback im- mediately rode up, placing Mr. C. in the midst of them. On perceiving his danger, it struck him " Here is an occasion of faith!" and that gracious direction also occurred to him — Call upon me in the time of trouble, and I will deliver thee. He secretly lifted up his heart to God, entreating that deliverance which he alone could effect. One of the men, who seemed to be the Captain of the Gang, asked him who he was, and whither he was going. Mr. C. here recurred to a principle, to which his mind was habituated — that " Nothing needs a lie." He therefore told them very frankly his name, and whither he was going : the leader said, " Sir, I know you, and have heard you preach at Lewes : let the gentleman's horse go : we wish you good night." Mr. C. had about him sixteen pounds, Queen Anne's Bounty, belonging to his Churches, which he had been to town to receive, and which, at that time, was to him a large sum. It may not be improper to add here, that both the Livings brought in only about 80/. per annum ; and when Mr. Cecil's health rendered it necessary for him to engage a Curate, from that time he der REV. RICHARD CECIL. 13 rived no emolument from them, as the income was only adequate to the expence of a Curate. He held these Livings for no other but the express purpose of continuing the preaching of the truth in that place, and had many difficulties to contend with in carrying his point : but he persevered in this way for many years, till he could resign them, satisfactorily, to the late Rev. Mr. Dale. Although Mr. C. was a single man while Rector of two Livings at Lewes, yet, possessing no per- sonal property, he was always straitened in his pecuniary affairs, particularly so during the first years of his Ministry.* In June 1777, while Mr. C. lived at Lewes, he lost his pious mother, whose death was made of singular benefit to him. He went on the evening of her death, under the solemn impressions which it had made on his mind, to the Lock Chapel, for which service he was previously engaged; and preached a most effective sermon — by some, pro- bably, still held in remembrance. His father did not long survive her: he died in Feb. 1779. Both * It may be necessary for me to mention, that tbough his Father's busi- ness was lucrative, yet as he had no turn for business, consequently he did not pay that attention which so large a concern required, and which, un- der proper inspection and good regulation, would have been, as he said to his son, '.' as good as an Estate to him." At his Father's death, therefore, nothing remained, but his business, house, and premises; into the posses- sion of which his elder brother entered : and all, of any consideration, that Mr. C received from his Parents, was a few articles of plate, given him by his Mother on her death-bed, with her watch, and some old family china, which (though useless) he valued as relics of sacred antiquity ; particularly one article — a coffee-pot, out of which John Bunyan drank coffee in the house of Mr. Cope mentioned before. 14 MEMOIR OF THE his father and mother lie buried in a family vault in Bunhill Fields, with five of his own children — Tabitha, John Christian, Theophilus, Henry, and Israel. Mr. C. continued to be so much affected with the rheumatic complaint in his head, that he re- moved from Lewes to London, and lived at Isling- ton for the recovery of his health. During- this time he preached at different Churches and Cha- pels in London. For some years he preached a lecture at Loth- bury, at 6 o'clock on the Sunday Morning. He found the walk, at that early hour in winter, very dangerous, as most of the lamps were gone out, and few persons stirring except those who wander for prey. He has often made me thrill with horror, at hearing him state the meeting on his way thither of wretches with their dark lanterns, with designs still darker: but God graciously preserved him amidst these dangers. He found, however, that this undertaking was not only dangerous, but that the additional fatigue of this early service became too great a demand on his strength : and on both accounts, he engaged a hackney coach, to take him to and from the Church during the latter years of his going thither. At this time, he had the whole duty of St. John's, and also an Evening Lecture at a Chapel, in Orange Street, Leicester Fields, at that period a regular Chapel in the Establishment. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 15 111 course of time, notwithstanding this precau- tion, his health declined, and, after many long and earnest intreaties of his friends, he reluctantly re- linquished the lecture at Lothbury ; whither he used to go with peculiar pleasure, and where many, who were taking an early walk on a summer morn- ing, wandering in thoughtlessly, heard and em- braced the truth, and are some out of the number of those, who became his joy and crown. By this resignation also, he lost nothing but labour and care, except the satisfaction which it afforded him of ministering to this people : for the emolument arising from the endowment, but barely covered his expences. The Chapel at Orange Street, where he preached on Sunday Evenings, and on Wednesday Evenings for many years, being about to be repaired, it was relinquished ; and the Chapel in Long Acre was engaged, in conjunction with his friend the Rev. Henry Foster, who had the morning duty : here the same congregation attended. Mr. C. was solicited to take the Sunday Even- ing Lecture, preached at Christ Church, Spital Fields. He entered on this charge in Sep. 1787, a date which I am not likely to forget. The first Sunday evening that he went thither, he left in my lap a dying infant (as was supposed) given over by his Physicians with scarcely a remaining trace of life, and which he did not expect to find alive on his return. But this did not stop Mr. C. in his 16 MEMOIR OF THE work — The ivalls were to be built in troublous times: and he went forth accordingly, though with a trou- bled heart. It pleased God, however, to restore our child, like another Lazarus, at that time : but He took him into His own gracious arms, in the 21st year of his age. Many have very naturally conjectured, that, from these diversified engagements, Mr. Cecil's pecu- niary advantages must have been very considera- ble : but it was not for lucre's sake that he thus spent himself. In whatever he was prodigal, it was for God, and not for gain. I have often heard him say, that the Spital Fields Lectureship was rather a loss than a gain to him, in this respect, as the distance rendered it necessary for him to em- ploy a coach for the evening, except when any friends took him in their own. Mr. C. had the charge of this Lecture, and of that at Long Acre Chapel, alternately, each time for three successive years, with Mr. Foster — the gentleman who endowed the Lecture at Spital Fields having specified that the same clergyman should hold that Lectureship only three years in immediate succession. The appointment is vested in the Court of Assistants of the Weaver's Com- pany, who first called Mr. Foster to this charge. He opened the Lecture in September 1784, and was followed by Mr. C. in 1787 : Mr. F. being re- appointed in the years 1790, 1796, and 1802 ; and Mr. C. in 1793, and 1799. The intention of the . REV. RICHARD CECIL. 17 founder of this Lecture extended only to its being preached from September to April inclusive, but both Mr. F. and Mr. C. continued it through the whole year. I need not speak of the vast congre- gation which assembled in that immense Temple, the very sight of which was most animating, and where the stillness and attention of the numerous poor were most interesting. Mr. C. was, however, obliged by ill health to relinquish this arduous post — nearly the whole duty of which was dis- charged for him by Mr. Pratt, during the last three years of his holding the Lectureship, from 1799 to 1801. I return to Mr. Cecil's most important sphere of duty at St. John's Chapel, Bedford Row. In the year 1780, he was invited to turn his thoughts to this Chapel, at that time the largest Church of England Chapel in London. Having been much neglected, it required a large sum for its repair. Mr. C. went, therefore, merely to look at it ; for, as he never was possessed of any property, he chose to run no hazards. A lady of fortune*, how- ever, offered to secure him from any ultimate loss, by her bond, should not the undertaking succeed : but, as the Chapel prospered, she was never called on. Yet wishing to testify her regard to Mr. Cecil, she gave him a very considerable sum of money toward building the present Vestry and the * Mrs. Wilbeifoi'ce, of John Street, King's Road, aunt to William Wilberforce, Esq. t C 18 MEMOIR OF THE rooms adjoining-, to which several other friends contributed, and by whom the expence of the building, amounting to several hundred pounds, was defrayed. The former Vestry, being very small, was made into a pew, and appropriated to the use of the Minister. At the same time, a gen- tleman in the Law offered to lend Mr. C. all the money that might be required for the repair of the Chapel, without any other security than his note. Mr. Cecil's mind was, at length, made up, as to engaging in this affair. He thought, that though the Chapel, so encumbered, might not yield any considerable advantage in his life-time, yet that the call appeared providential and the sphere use- ful. Accordingly, in March 1780, he entered on his Ministry at St. John's. At this time, his whole income was but 80/. per annum, which he received for the Lecture preached at Orange Street Chapel. The pious desire of his friend just mentioned, to promote the interest of religion, led him to hazard so large a sum on this occasion : he may be justly termed, by his liberality, the Nursing-Father, both of St. Johns and of its Minister, throughout these years of Mr. Cecil's life ; and still remains the uni- form friend of his bereaved family. He was one of the first who proposed a subscription for their support, when the income arising from the few remaining years of the lease should fail. This kind friend, Mr. C. considered, and highly valued, as his coadjutor in every interest that REV. RICHARD CECIL. 19 respected this place and people: in this object, they were of one mind and one heart; and Mr. C. often very feelingly expressed, not only his obligations, but how great would be his loss, should he ever be deprived of this faithful friend — from whose ob- servations and ever watchful eye he derived much advantage; nor could any thing more strongly evince this gentleman's disinterested attachment to St. John's, than his unceasing and unwearied attentions there, without any other motive or re- ward than the pleasure of observing its prosperity and success. William Cardale, Esq. of Bedford Row, this invaluable friend of my dear husband, not only ad- vanced a large sum for the first repair, on Mr. Cecil's engaging in the Chapel, but was ever ready to assist him with such additional sums, as were continually and necessarily expended, in order to obtain for the congregation that complete accom- modation, for which St. John's has been remark- able. When Mr. Cecil entered on St. John's the usual custom prevailed of playing a Voluntary after the reading of the Psalms. As he considered this no part of the worship, but rather an intrusion into it, he appointed that an appropriate Voluntary should precede the service — to allow for which, the bell was ordered to cease five minutes before the hour for Divine Worship ; and, instead of the usual Voluntary after the Psalms, he directed that a Psalm should be sung after the Second Lesson. 20 MEMOIR OF THE Any inattention to the established economy of the Chapel was grievous to him ; and he strictly watched over all abuses, particularly that so fre- quently observed in various Churches in London — imposition or misbehaviour on the part of the pew-openers. He set his face determinedly against this ; and enjoined on them, as the condition of their holding their situations, that they should, without previously receiving a bribe, accommodate with a seat, when practicable, every respectable stranger : but, finding, that, through the frailty of human nature, his injunctions were in one form or another violated, and being fully determined on carrying his point, he engaged a person, both to superintend the conduct of the pew-openers, and to keep a watchful eye over every part of the Chapel during the time of Divine Service. This he did with a view to prevent inattention to such persons as occasionally dropped in, and who there- fore had no regular seat. His very soul abhorred the thought, that any one should be discouraged or prevented from hearing the free offer of salva- tion, who did not pay his way into a seat ; and, though he was aware that his liberality might be abused, yet his grand object was obtained — that dying creatures should be encouraged to hear the message of the Living God. He was a great admirer of order, and particu- larly so in the Church. There was, in consequence, much more attention paid at St. John's, than in most other places, that all the parts of the Service REV. RICHARD CECIL. 21 should proceed in a regular succession, without any intermission, from the time when it com- menced till it ended. The Clerk constantly called on a Sunday morning and took the time from a regulator in Mr. Cecil's study. He appointed that the bell should begin precisely at half-past ten o'clock — that the Organist should begin instantly on the stopping of the bell — that the Reader should be in the desk ready to begin the prayers on the organ ceasing — and that, throughout the whole Service, the same uniform punctuality should be preserved. At St. John's Mr. C. performed all the duty for three years, without receiving any emolument, as the hearers were few, the expenses and interest of the money laid out upon it great, and the pews much underlet : Mr. C. objected to having them raised, lest it should disturb the mind of the old hearers, and discourage others from attending: an annual sum of 251. was, moreover, paid to the Rector of St. Andrew's for the privilege of the pulpit in the afternoon. These, together with the continual and heavy expenses, arising from his zeal to render the Chapel commodious to his con- gregation, occasioned his income from it to be much more confined, for many years, than was generally conceived. He sought not theirs, but them: during, therefore, his first years as the Minister of St. John's, his income but very gradu- ally encreased, which will account for his being 22 MEMOIR OF THE so involved in his circumstances, the greater part of his life. During the first eighteen years, that is from 1780 to 1798, he made a point of paying the interest of the money lent for the repair of the Chapel. A legacy of 100/. left me by a relation, and another 1001. given by a friend,* and every smaller legacy or sum given, and all that could possibly be spared from domestic demands, were immediately devoted to paying off the principal, which was at length thus reduced to five hundred pounds, as appeared by his accounts, examined by his friends during his confinement in Dec. 1798. In gratitude to Mr. Cecil's friends I ought to mention, that, in the afflictive state of his health just referred to, they were anxious to know his circumstances ; and finding, on investigation, that part of the debt for the first repair of the Chapel (about 500/.) was not paid off, they generously made a subscription to defray it. An overplus of about 200/. remaining, they put this into the funds for his use ; but an affecting circumstance in his family obliged him to sell it out some time after. St. John's Chapel was part of the estate of the Rugby Charity ; the management of it was prin- cipally left to Sir Eardly Wilmot, one of the Rugby Trust, who was resident in the neighbourhood. It having been some time advertized, Sir Eardly determined, that, if he could not get a Minister recommended to it by the Archbishop of Canter- * John Thornton, Esq. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 23 bury, he would procure an act to be passed to make it a Parish Church. The Archbishop [Cornwallis] had given Mr. C. one of his Livings at Lewes ; and had advised him, on account of his health, to leave a Curate at Lewes and procure some duty in town. He had before recommended him to Dr. Ducarel, for the Surrogacy annexed to his Living : this Dr. D. gave to Mr. Cecil, on his promise of taking a Master's degree ; which pro- mise he performed. The Archbishop, on being requested to recommend Mr. C. to Sir Eardly Wilmot, readily complied. When he entered on his ministry at St. John's, he had a difficult and arduous path to tread. He had to preach to a people inimical to the spirit of the Gospel, on the one hand ; and to make his way through the prejudices of the religious part of his auditory, on the other — who, not comprehending his aim, were ready to pronounce on his plan, as shunning to declare the whole counsel of God. Yet he was wisely following the example of his Master, in delivering the truth, as they who heard were able to bear it ; and thus forming a lodgment in their minds, and preparing them for the full display of all the doctrines of the Gospel. Mr. C. possessed, naturally, a comprehensive mind, and strong judgment. When it pleased God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, to shine into his heart, all his natural powers received a new direction, and under divine influence be- 24 MEMOIR OF THE came subservient to the glorious objects which he had discovered and laboured to make known to others. Persons are often led to approve or dis- approve from results, either as they are success- ful, or unsuccessful, rather than from abstract views : the result, in the instance of St. John's Chapel, clearly proves the wisdom of the course which Mr. C. pursued. About the year 1800, Mr. C. established an An- nual Sermon at St. John's, to be preached on the morning of May Day to young persons. He wished his Chapel to render assistance to charita- ble and pious Institutions, by occasional Sermons, distinct from those of the Parish School and the Welsh Charity, which last always attended the Chapel ; but in his early attempt at this, he met with serious remonstrances from some of the con- gregation : ardent, therefore, on his great point, of promoting the Gospel, and avoiding offence not absolutely necessary, no others were introduced for some years. He never, however, relinquished his original intention of rendering this benefit to cases which he deemed proper. Besides, there- fore, the Sermons which were preached — the first two, namely, morning and afternoon, about Janu- ary for the Parish School — and the next two, about April, for the Welsh Charity — he introduced two in Dec. 1798, for a Sunday School for Religious Instruction, which had been established at St. John's ; and he occasionally added another for REV. RICHARD CECIL. 25 the benefit of some charitable Institution, and had it in contemplation to preach one annually in fa- vour of the Society for Missions to Africa and the East. In 1807, he preached for the New Rup- ture Society — the original plan of which Society was suggested by Mr. C. # The Sacramental Money, collected at St. John's Chapel, Mr. C. appointed to be kept in the hands of a Treasurer, and was distributed by him, and three other gentlemen of the congregation, who were requested to assist in the distribution, to poor persons recommended by seat-holders, on St. Thomas's day — except small sums which were sent by the Clerk and Collector, to cases of need discovered in the course of the year, which were brought to account in the annual settlement. Mr. C. had for many years suffered greatly from a complaint, supposed to be a sciatica. On being seized by a more violent and acute attack, a con- sultation of the Faculty was held on his disorder on Friday, Dec. 7th, 1798; the result of which was, that he was prohibited from preaching any more while the existing symptoms continued. A schirrus in the caecum was now apprehended, and his condition was thought dangerous. The follow- ing Sunday, a most affecting scene took place at St. John's. He had been announced on the pre- * More than 2000 patients have been already relieved by this useful Institution ; which would extend its assistance far more widely still, were its funds adequate to this desirable object. J. P. 26 MEMOIR OF THE ceding Sunday, to preach a sermon in the morn- ing of this day, Dec. 9th, for the Children of the Sunday School attending the Chapel, and another in the evening to their Parents. Notwithstanding his prohibition by his medical friends, he deter- mined to make an attempt to address the people once more. Many circumstances conspired to render the scene affecting. A friend remarked, that a side view which he caught of his face before he uttered a word, chilled him to the heart. — Sunk — worn — and dejected! The strong was, in- deed, become as tow! and the mighty fallen / His text added to the solemnity of the scene : — He, which testifieth these things, saith, Surely, I come quickly. Amen ! Even so, come Lord Jesus ! He told his congregation that he was preaching contrary to the advice of his Physicians, and that he should not be able to meet them in the evening. He had not preached more than five minutes, be- fore it was visible that he was in extreme pain, and his feeble tone of voice proved that he was worne down. He could not continue his discourse more than 20 minutes, and then dismissed the con- gregation — not with the usual benediction, but in the last words of the Bible immediately following his text. The presentiment of many that this ser- mon would close his ministry gathered strength from his having chosen the concluding subject of the Scriptures, and ending his discourse with the benediction following it. After this period it REV. RICHARD CECIL. 27 pleased God, whose ways are not our ways, nor His thoughts our thoughts, to add twelve years to his life. During the above confinement, in the winter of 1798, Mr. Cecil put down for his own use some of the particular impressions made on his mind through this illness, but never designed it for publi- cation. He had many MSS. by him, which were intended for the press, but his declining health, together with his public occupations, prevented their being finished. On this account, he had so- lemnly enjoined me to consume all his papers, whenever his death should take place — assuring me, that they were in too unfinished a state for public benefit.* In his last illness at Clifton, of which notice will * Though Mr. Cecil's projected plans were arranged with clearness to his own preception, yet they were unintelligible to any other eye : nor were they in such a state of preparation for the press, as would admit of their being finished by any other hand than his own ; as he had often assured me. If, however, this had not been the case, it would still have been im- possible for me to have preserved them from destruction, in my relative situation ; and while the precipitance resulting from his diseased nerves, in this and other instances, took place of that calm deliberation and wisdom peculiar to him when in health. It is some alleviation to be convinced, as I fully am, that, generally speaking, his papers could not have been rendered useful to the public, but by his own hand. His anxious desire to do good, and his ever active and ardent mind, led him to form plans which his long and painful complaint rendered it im- possible for him to bring to perfection: otherwise I am persuaded, that he would not have destroyed any thing that might promise to prove useful. And a proof of this appears, in the fact of his having permitted the publica- tion of the "Fragment," printed in the third volume of his Works; and also in his reserving a MS. for my own use, consisting of sentences which he had collected and intended for publication. 28 MEMOIR OF THE be taken hereafter, when he apprehended that he should not live to return to town, he repeated his injunction — with the most anxious intreaty that I would relieve his mind, and meet his wishes, by destroying all his papers after his disease. Find- ing that nothing short of my giving him a faithful promise to execute his command would pacify his agitated mind, I reluctantly yielded — and pro- mised to execute his desire on one condition only — namely, that he would allow me to preserve, for my own use, the above mentioned MS. written in 1798 (which I knew was not unfit for publication) and also permit me to subjoin it to this Memoir whenever it should be made public, to which he agreed.* Mr. Cecil, however, contrary to his apprehen- sions, lived to reach home ; when his determination respecting his papers was put in force by his own hand. He consumed every other MS. but the one I had before redeemed from the flames ; and which is, by an after arrangement, attached to his works. It will appear, both from this MS. and from the following extracts (taken chiefly from my own pri- vate memorandums, and which are distinct from * Mr. Cecil's reply to his son Israel on his mentioning to his father his feelings on reading this MS. then in the possession of a friend, may not be uninteresting. " I do not wonder that you felt as you express, at reading my feelings on passing through the deep waters. Alas! you saw but a small part of what occurred: but, by these things men live; and in all these things is the life of my spirit. They are what a University cannot yield ; nor is a Prince, as such, favoured with a taste of them. I sincerely pray that you may know how a thorn in the flesh becomes a special blessing. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 29 the fragment published in his works,) that, during this confinement, his heart was receiving important lessons in the school of affliction. Saturday night, Dec. 8th, 1798. " This is a mysterious dispensation ; but I know it is a wise one. I did not think of ever feeling so much pain. I have not prayed against that. I am now to glorify him by suffering — I am not afraid of consequences — It is well /" Dec. 10th. To the Rev. Mr. Newton, who was dropping him a seasonable word of consolation, he replied, " It is consistent neither with reason nor religion, to oppose sufferings to the love of God; for, Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth; and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth" In the evening of the same day to another friend, (the Rev. Mr. Venn,) he said " I am not afraid to die ; but I am afraid of being worne out by pain. Nature shrinks at this prospect." Wednesday 12th. To the Rev. Mr. Pratt he said — My illness gives me stronger hold of two points : — 1st. God must be brought near, to be lived on and fled to : 2d, Comfort, to be sensible to my heart, must spring from God's making Him- self sensible to me. There must be an Incarna- tion. I must, by faith, lay hold of my God — as he became man!" Dec. 14th. In bed — To the same friend, who spoke to him of the rumoured death of Buonaparte, and the failure of the French expedition against 30 MEMOIR OF THE Egypt, he replied — " But is Egypt to be left in its present horrid state of depravity and wretchedness under the Turks? — How unsearchable are the ways of God! He giveth no account of His matters. If God should restore me again to health, I have de- termined to study nothing but the Bible. Litera- ture is inimical to spirituality, if it be not kept un- der with a firm hand. A man ought to call in from every quarter, whatever may assist him to understand, explain, and illustrate the Bible : but there — in its light and life — is all that is good for man. All important truth is there; and I feel that no comfort enters sick curtains from any other quarter. My state is an admonition to young men. I have been too much occupied in preparing to live, and too little in living. I have read too much from curiosity, and for mental gratification. I was literary, when I should have been active. We trifle too much. Let us do something for God. The man of God, is a man of feeling and activity. I feel and would urge with all possible strength on others, that Jesus Christ is our All and in All" On another occasion he said — In all my suffer- ings, except when my pain is extreme, I think I can in some degree say — / take pleasure in them : but when I am in torture, I seem to be glad that I can bear it without a murmur, which I have not felt that I know of; but I cannot say, / take plea- sure in it. As to being broken down, I perfectly agree to it ; distress, poverty, reproach, infirmity. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 31 are fine things to humble a high spirit. The Phy- sicians do not know my case — but I do : it is the finger of God — and I am to learn from it various important lessons ; and, among the rest, the suf- ficiency of His grace. I have prayed thrice : sure I ought to be content with the answer to St. Paul!" To a friend he said — " It has been a night of great pain, but it was a night appointed me by Jesus Christ ; and sure it must be a good one, that He appoints ! Had I laid down my life for you, your good nights would have been my anxious care." At another time — " I have great peace — not a ruffled breeze — night nor day — and this is all grounded on the doctrine of Jesus Christ. Give up that, and I should have no sleep to-night. All is pitch darkness without it — dark as a Socinian — dark as a Moralist. There is no light, but what Christ brings." At another time, while attending him in the night, he said to me — " It is an extra- ordinary statement, that though God loves me much better than you do, yet he does not relieve me. I am to partake, as a member of Christ, the sufferings of Christ. It pleased the Lord to bruise Him, for the good of man; and he afflicts man, for his good. If I recover, I shall be a better preacher — that is, I shall be more humble ! I have many comforts ; but perhaps I shall be so sick as to say, Lord ! it is enough, take away my life. I am now often thankful for five minutes ease; and I wonder 32 . - MEMOIR OF THE I was not much more so for that of fifty years." At another time — " God knows my case : and, in pain, in difficulty, in sickness, he says- — ' It is I: be not afraid: Commit yourself to me !' Jesus Christ is my great hold: nothing can happen without His knowledge and permission." To one, who spoke to him of his illness, he said — " It is all Christ. I keep death in view. If God does not please to raise me up, He intends me better. I know whom I have believed. How little we think of improving the time we have, while we have opportunity! I find every thing but religion, vanity. I am ready, even on this sick bed, to preach to preachers. I ask myself, what is my hold and support — what wil) remain with me, when every thing else is washed away ? To recollect apromise of the Bible — this is substance! Nothing will do but the Bible. If I read authors, and hear different opinions, I cannot say, " this is truth! — I cannot grasp it as substance: but the Bible gives me something to hold. I have learnt more within these curtains, than from all the books I ever read. — I sometimes speculate on the idea of a soul's leaving the body, and wandering forth into the world of space ; but it is alone — wandering in solitude — It is wretched because alone; to say nothing of misery: but let a ray from Christ shine on that soul, and no matter where it is — it is happy !" The violence of this attack was mercifully REV. RICHARD CECIL. 33 abated ; and Mr. Cecil was so far recovered, that he ventured, on the 24th Feb. 1799, to preach the Evening Lecture at St. John's. Though he began with the precaution of reading his sermons, yet he found the exertion too much for his broken state of strength and spirits ; and he was convinced that God called him to retirement and repose. Such a dispensation, to a mind like his, required no com- mon measure of faith and patience. He was, at length, by a blessing on the means used, enabled to resume his usual duty, though under much re- maining infirmity. Speaking of his afflicted state, he said, " My dispensation is wonderful. That I am able to meet the frequent returns of my public duty is almost miraculous. Not one of my hearers has any idea of the quantity of pain I endure in the course of twenty-four hours ; and yet, if it were ever to be upon me at the moment I was called to preach, it would be utterly impossible for me to begin." But it was not only during the above period that Mr. C. suffered much pain ; but, year after year, it remained as a clog on his efforts, and as a worm at the root of his constitution. Frequently, after suffering greatly all the preceding night, he has gone forth in the morning to his public duty so fee- ble and emaciated, that I have dreaded the con- sequences of his entering the pulpit. But, still stimulated and animated by love and zeal, he went through his duty, by divine assistance, without any t D 34 MEMOIR OF THE appearance of his suffering state, or any other per- ceptible effect, save that feeling and unction which it produced. As the face of Moses, when he came down from the Mount, was seen to shine : so was it evident, in Mr. Cecil's discourses, that he had not suffered so many things in vain ; but that he was refined in the furnace of affliction, to shew forth His glory who had called him. He acquired a more keen perception and feeling of the vanity of all human things : he stripped off the mask from the face of the world — shewed its poverty and emptiness — its enchantments — its snares — and its pretensions, as delusive and fallacious : he drew aside the veil — and exhibited those glorious reali- ties in reversion for the faithful, on which his soul delighted to dwell, and of which he is now in the full enjoyment. Thus exercised with affliction, he persevered in preaching (making use of a seat in the pulpit) till a paralysis deprived the Church of his labours. His patience under his great and long sufferings was surprising. By them many interior experiences and excellent ideas were wrung from him, while a word of complaint was never heard to come forth from his lips. In June 1798, previous to the above confine- ment, Mr. C. sent the following reflections to a friend under affliction, to whom they were pecu- liarly appropriate, and by whose favour I obtain them — REV. RICHARD CECIL. 35 " Sunday noon. — In great pain — disposed to preach again, on a new text — She answered, It is ivell. That is, God is wiser than I am. He hnoweth the way that I take, and, when I am tried, I shall come forth as gold. He knows how to bring good out of this evil. What can He take away, that He cannot make up to me? Pain, loss, solitude — what are ye? — The way home!— He knows the way : — that is enough. He has pro- mised to be with me in the way : that is more than enough. " It is well — that is, God is mightier than I am. — He can make this dying and painful way, the way of life — the way of comfort — the way of joy, as well as holiness. He has done it ten thousand times : I have seen it done. What child is he ivhom his Father chasteneth not ? I would be a son, but not scourged. I am a fool, whom even experience can scarcely make wise. — I see , and , and , whom he does not chastise ; all professors — but are they sons? — I see , and , who are sinking under their troubles, and going to Satan for comfort, because they are not sons. " It is well — that is, He is better than I am. He has thoughts of peace, while I indulge thoughts of evil. He means better than I can give Him credit for. He asks me for nothing but time and trust, in order to make the whole plain and gra- cious to my eye : " No !" say I : " shew it me now. D 2 36 MEMOIR OF THE and it sufficeth."— " What !" saith He— Am 1 alone not to be trusted ? How many of my crea- tures have you trusted for what you could not see! How often have you rested on dust and ashes, as on a sure foundation!— Go— Go — and learn your horn-book, and then you will say without stam- mering It is well /" " Wednesday morning-. — Pain left me after the above was put down, and then it was thrown aside ; but returned this morning at four o'clock, and drove me from the bed to begin again. But with nothing new. — It is well — God is more holy than I, and will burn up the dross. He is more faith- ful, and does not forget his promise, to purify the sons of Levi, that they may first present a pure offering, and then be offered up themselves !" I proceed to the year 1800 — when Mr. Cecil was requested by Samuel Thornton, Esq. to take the Livings of Chobham and Bisley; which his fa- ther, the ever-memorable John Thornton, Esq. had bought, and had left in the hands of trustees. Mr. Cecil, though duly sensible of the favour, yet could not be prevailed on to think of accepting these Liv- ings ; and was so fully determined against it, that he returned several refusals, in answer to pressing requests by letter, that he would accept them. He was also informed by Mr. Thornton, that it was his fathers intention, that the unbeneficed trustees, ■(of whom Mr. C. was one) were to have the first offer, and he repeated his wishes, with many REV. RICHARD CECIL. 37 friendly arguments— particularly, the danger in Mr. Cecils state of health, of his becoming inca- pable of going on at St. John's, without some relief from that arduous post. Mr. C. continued, how- ever, to retain his objections: but an old friend hinted to him, that he might be resisting a call in providence. To this intimation he listened, and consented to refer the business to the trustees, and a few select friends who should meet for the purpose of determining the question. They ac- cordingly met together, and were unanimous in resolving it to be the duty of a man in Mr. Cecils circumstances, family, and health to accept the Livings, and serve them in the summer.* But, in going to these Livings, he went rather to labour than to rest He forgot his broken state of constitution, when he set up in the Church two extra Lectures — one on the Sunday evening, and the other on a week-day. During the first years, he principally preached them himself, and with great success. To conciliate one of his parishes, he left the tythes to be fixed by three neighbouring * By these Livings about 1501. per annum was added to his income. After his fatal malady took place, and his pecuniary affairs naturally de- volved on me, I judged it expedient to inform myself correctly respecting them. Accordingly I had a minute account taken, both of the income and of the expenditure of the Livings of Chobham and Bisley. In the account returned to me, both were stated at large : the net income was 235J. per annum: out of this remained to be deducted, the expence of supplying St. John's during Mr. Cecil's absence; and that attending the removal of our family to Chobham and back again. All these deductions taken into the calculation, the whole advantage to Mr. Cecil's income could not, at most, be estimated at more than 1501. 38 MEMOIR OF THE farmers ; and used every other means to gain the affection of his parishioners. There also, he sought not theirs, but them: and when his son. re- monstrated with him on the occasion, he replied " If by taking one guinea more I should excite prejudices in a single mind against my message, I should defeat my great project in coining to this place." Mr. Cecil found these parishes, like others where the light of truth has scarcely dawned, sunk in the depths of ignorance and immorality — very few hearers in the Church, while many Avere making the Sabbath a day of sport and amusement. He found that there also, as in other places whither he had been led by providence, he had to begin at the very foundation, under the most discouraging circumstances, as will appear from the impression made on his mind, on his first going among them. He says, " When I first came to Chobham, as I was sitting in the Vestry — on hearing the noise and uproar of the boys, and the people in the gallery talking aloud to each other — I burst into tears ; and felt with the Prophet, when he said — Can these dry bones live ? — But the fields were white un- to the harvest: he did not labour in vain among this people : a large and attentive congregation was collected, and many saw the day of the Son of Man, and were glad : some of these are already entered into rest, where both he, that sowed, and those, who reaped, now rejoice together. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 39 There being no house to either of the Livings, except a ruin inhabited by a labourer, nor any that could be engaged for Mr.Cecils residence, he spent the first few summers in part of a house since pur- chased by the Rev. Mr. Jerram. After this, a very generous friend, Thomas Bainbridge, Esq. of Guild- ford Street, purchased eleven acres of ground, and built on it for Mr. C. a convenient house, which he let at a low rent. Mr. C. spent a few months in it, while it was unfinished, in the summer of 1807; but did not live to see it, after it was completed. I cannot pass from this subject, without re- marking, not only this instance of Mr. B's kind- ness, in burdening himself with this undertaking, which he did with a most disinterested, liberal, and friendly desire of relieving Mr. C. from fatigue, care and anxiety; but also his marked regard in other instances, which has been uniformly that of a faithful friend. When Mr. Cecil was laid aside in the year 1808, Mr. B. was one of the two friends who proposed a private subscription, in- tended, as before observed, as a resource when the rent from the lease of St. John's should fail, which had then but about ten years to run. Mr. B. sub- scribed largely himself; and, in every way, proved himself no common friend. Nor did Mr. B's kindness end here. During the period when Mr. Cecils illness occasioned our absence from town for nine months, his house was the asylum of our son Israel, wherein he received 40 MEMOIR OF THE the most kind and friendly attentions, both from Mr. and Mrs. B. Before we removed from Clifton, our dear child was seized with a fatal disease, which confined him to his bed seven weeks, in the most extreme suffering. Through this time of ex- tremity and fatigue, no possible care, no expence, no labour was spared. Some young friends assi- duously attended him, night and day, to his last hour. Mrs. B. with the solicitude of a mother, and with unexampled kindness, watched by his bed : in a word, our son found both a Mother and a Father, who were willing and able to render the dear sufferer far beyond what his own fathers house could have yielded him. Though his father arrived in town, while our son was still living, and only a street or two separated them, yet the distressing illness of both rendered their seeing each other again in this world impos- sible. Their next meeting was reserved for a day unmixed with such calamity! There was reason to hope, from many favourable evidences, that the God of his Father had begun a gracious work in his heart some time previous to his illness ; and which, I trust, was carried on in his sick chamber, till he was fully prepared, by sovereign grace, for an inheritance in the Heavenly Jerusalem, among the spirits of just men made perfect, and for a joyful re-union with that Father who was so soon to follow him — whom he so tenderly loved and so highly revered ; and of whom he wrote in a manner REV. RICHARD CECIL. 41 so pathetic and affectionate in a letter to a friend while his beloved Father was at Bath, that I must be allowed to transcribe a part of his letter: — Chobham, 1808. " I assure you, I feel, notwithstanding the kind- ness and number of my friends, a very unaccoun- table depression of spirits — or, rather, the mind revolving on its own observations and views, of the various changes I am now witnessing, with those also that are passed. — In all my companions — no father! In all my conversations — none like him! In all my doubts — no oracle like him! In all my fears and anxieties — no refuge like his genero- sity! I feel his loss — though surrounded with the prodigality of liberality and kindness." I return to the sad period of 1807, when Mr.C. had a slight paralytic affection — from which he recovered sufficiently to resume his ministerial la- bours. At this period, in answer to a letter from a friend, enquiring after his health, he says, " I have been indeed, much indisposed; and even now find sitting upright rather difficult: therefore, as proud men must be brought down, I must call my son to conclude this" — " We are all under a gene- ral dispensation; and this dispensation is sometimes so contrary to the feelings of nature, that we are apt to resist and say, ' Why am I thus ?' I find it easy to tell the people from the pulpit how to act in such cases, and particularly Christians : but things are stronger than we are; and T find it 42 MEMOIR OF THE very difficult to act myself. People say, and phy- sicians too, that my preaching three times a day through the hot weather at St. John's was the cause of my present infirmity — a state, in which I have not only seemed to lose my faculties, but, at one time, was unable to speak at all. I dare say they are right : but I have an interior feeling, which, while I hear people talking thus on the sub- ject, makes me smile, and say within myself 4 You talk well, but you know nothing of the mat- ter. God is in this thing ; and He is teaching me a lesson, which I cannot learn from books'." In February 1808, another paralytic seizure took place ; which deprived him of the use of his right side, and totally disabled him from further exer- tions in public. Electricity was ordered, and ad- ministered with great kindness and attention; but proving ineffectual, he was then ordered to Bath. The expences of such a journey not being within his own power, a few friends readily and cheerfully subscribed to assist him in this undertaking; so that he was relieved from carefulness in this respect; and from difficulty, so far as the kindness and liberality of friends could relieve him. His full relief, however, was on its way ; and the time now hastening, when the sickness and sorrows of a worne-out traveller were to be exchanged for an eternal tueight of glory, in that state where the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 43 After having tried the Bath Waters for several months, and receiving no benefit, he was ordered to tiy change of air. Here, again, he appears the Child of Providence. He often used to say — " I set out with nothing, but dependance on God — resolving to do his work, and leave all the rest to Him. I know that he will take care and pro- vide for me." This was his habitual sentiment. Nor was his faith vain ; for, as extremity arose, some gracious providence was prepared to meet his necessities. Of this the following is a very striking instance. Isaac Cooke, Esq. of Clifton, near Bristol, a gentleman, whom Mr. Cecil had never seen, but who had heard him preach (being occasionally in town,) who was neither an old friend — nor one of his congregation— nor even a neighbour, except in the sense of our Lord, Luke x. — this was the friend by whom his way was graciously directed to Clif- ton, and who urged by letter his acceptance of a ready furnished house there, for any length of time. This generous offer he thankfully accepted, and occupied the house for nearly six months. Here he found every provision for all his wants, and every possible administration to his comfort ; and was, together with this, amply supplied with the means for meeting those various demands of sick- ness, which it was impossible even for the kindest eye of friendship to anticipate. On his first going to Clifton, in Sept. 1808, he 44 MEMOIR OF THE derived considerable benefit from the change of air : but, toward the latter part of the time, his disease began to encrease, and he became anxious to return home. He was advised by his medical friends to give the Bath Waters a second trial in his way to town ; but, receiving no benefit from them, we shortly proceeded on our journey — a journey full of anxiety and apprehension— as his weakness was at that time so extreme, that tra- velling appeared almost impossible ; and would have been intirely so, but for the exertions of his friend, who obtained for him an easy coach, with an inside arrangement by which Mr. C. was ena- bled to travel in a reclining position. Thus ac- commodated, he performed the journey in five days, without injury ; and arrived in town in March, 1809. The expences of the journey were defrayed by our Clifton friend; nor did this friend leave Mr. C. here, but continued his kindness throughout all the future stages of his remaining life. On Mr. Cecil's arrival at his house in Little James Street, in the spring of 1809, with his nerves shattered and his state of health broken, the sud- den heat of the weather, together with the closeness and noise of the town greatly encreased his sufferings, and he became extremely anxious to remove from its tumult and distraction. He was, at this time, in a state which can be little appre- hended, even by invalids themselves ; much less by those in health and vigour. It was, however, REV. RICHARD CECIL. 45 a state to him, and a season to me, replete with difficulties, which seemed encreasing on all sides. His anxiety to leave town became stronger daily : but, no possible way seemed open ; and I could only, like Hagar, bewail miseries I could neither remove nor mitigate : nor, like her, could I appre- hend the relief that was so near at hand. These difficulties were removed by our friend Charles Offley, Esq. then of Great Ormond Street. Mrs. O. on seeing Mr. C. and observing the distressing state of his nerves, was indefatigable in seeking for a suitable retreat for him ; but, not meeting with a situation near town, after many researches, she de- termined to go to Tunbridge Wells, conceiving that both the air and waters might be advantage- ous to Mr. C. She took a house there for the season, on a very open spot, at Mr. O's expense ; and Mr. C. went to it, accordingly, in May, 1809: but, as we fatally know, did not derive the hoped- for benefit from these very favourable circum- stances. In the month of Oct. 1809, he came backto town for the Winter: but, on the return of the Spring, he found all his sufferings return with it; and again he anxiously desired to remove into the country. This brings my history back to his Clifton friend, of whom I observed, that after con- veying Mr. C. to town, he did not resign him there. At Tunbridge his favours followed him* and after Mr. Cecil's return from thence to town in Oct. 1809, 40 MEMOIR OF THE and when the lease of his Chapel was disposed of and his income necessarily straitened, this friend engaged to supply him with an annual remittance during his life ; which was devoted to his benefit, as the means of procuring a house for him through the summer months ; and by which, together with a sum collected by Mr. C's nephew in his family circle for the same purpose, these expences were supplied. With this provision, we proceeded to take a house at Belle- Vue, Hampstead, in a quiet and airy situation. Thither we removed in April 1810; and here Mr. Cecil's general health and spirits were much benefited. But it pleased God to re- move him from thence to a house more congenial to the desires of his soul, eternal in the heavens! By a fit of apoplexy his spirit was released from the body of death, Aug. 15th, 1810 — a bereave- ment to his family — to the Church — and to the world, irreparable — an affliction, calling for silent submission to Divine Wisdom ; and only mitigated by the assurance of his being from thenceforth for ever ivith the Lord. On this mournful occasion, the attentions of William Blair, Esq. of Great Russel Street, were exemplary and unremitted. His prompt attend- ance, tender sympathy, and kind watchfulness to the last moment, I shall ever bear in grateful re- membrance. I should be more strictly fulfilling the desire of REV. RICHARD CECIL. 47 the deceased, on the subject of Mr. Cooke's kind- ness to him, were I to enter more into the detail — and in tracing this instance of divine care, I wished to have had the liberty of inserting a few extracts from his friendly letters, which bear the best evidence on this subject. But, in requesting per- mission to do this, I received a positive refusal, with a prohibition to mention, either his name or any of the favours which he had rendered. I am, however compelled, either to do violence to his desire and determination to remain concealed, or to violate an injunction repeatedly enforced by Mr. C. to bear a testimony for him, when he was no longer able to express it himself, to the kindness of that brother who was thus raised up to meet this day of his adversity — one, whose administra- tions resembled those of an affectionate son to a beloved father. Expressions of regard and con- cern like these, so uncommon, so unexpected, could not fail of fixing a deep, lasting, and grateful impression on Mr. Cecil's mind— nor of aiding my imagination in the vivid conception, that I still hear him — in words similar to these of the Apostle — " The Lord give mercy unto his household for he oft refreshed me — sought me out — and found me. The Lord grant unto him that he may find grace in that day — In hoiv many things he minis- tered to me, thou knowest very well." I feel bound however, to avoid entering into particulars — know- ing the pain that even this slight glance will 43 MEMOIR OF THE occasion to one, whom gratitude would ever lead me to regard with the strictest delicacy. But, not to speak on the subject at all, would be to vio- late Mr. Cecils dying command; and to hide from the eye of the world another special instance of Gods gracious care, in supplying the wants of his servants in all ages — at one period, by the wing of a raven — at another, by a widow woman — and at another, by the extraordinary kindness of a friend. It was not, however from this friend and all his family, only, that Mr. C. met with marked kind- ness. Various other friends, in and about the neighbourhood of Bristol, affectionately and libe- rally ministered to him of their substance: and it must ever remain, both to myself when contemn plating the sorrowful path so lately trodden, and to Mr. Cecil's benevolent friends, a continual source of consolation, to reflect, that nothing by them was left undone, which could afford a hope of prolong- ing a life so valuable, or of mitigating affliction so acute. Amidst the general concern and anxiety which the affliction of a Father in Israel excited in the minds of his friends, the particular instance of that of his highly valued friend Dr. Fearon was mani- fest. Various and unabating were his efforts to administer relief and comfort. Difficulty, or dis- tance of place, was no impediment in the way of his ardent endeavours. He travelled many REV. RICHARD CECIL. 49 hundred miles to visit him — when he was at Bath — at Clifton — and at Tunbridge — as well as when he was at his house in town ; and though damped in his hopes, on perceiving the inveterate progress of Mr. C's disease, yet his kindness and watchful- ness abated not, from the period of his first attack in the year 1807, till he ceased longer to remain a recipient of human affection and care. Verily, there is a reward for the righteous ! — If we are taught that every man will have to give an account of his works — and if we are taught to be- lieve that every hour bears a report to heaven of the deeds done in the body — and if every man will receive a just recompence of reward at the final judgment — we may faintly conceive the joy of the righteous, on hearing the declaration — Inasmuch as ye did it to one of these — ye did it unto me ! — May not the providential assistances alluded to, be numbered among the answers to the prayer of faith, simple dependence, and firm reliance on di- vine help ? — and a fulfilment of that promise of our Lord's, Verily I say unto you, there is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands for my sake and the gospel's, but he shall receive an hundred fold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands (with persecution), and in the ivorld to come eternal life. But, the time dreiv nigh when Israel must die — Death was a subject familiar to the beloved cha- t E 50 MEMOIR OF THE racter of whom I write. He had fought the good fight, kept the faith, and ivas ready to be offered up. He gradually declined, protesting his unshaken confidence in the truths which he had so long preached, and endeavoured to impress on his family and others. At length, he became so weak and nervous, that he spoke but little; and was fre- quently, through the prevalence of disease, a painful subject of depression. Neither the power of medicine, nor the affec- tionate solicitude of friends, nor the advantage of the finest situations, can effectually relieve, contrary to the divine appointment. Mr. C. still found his weakness continue ; or, as he termed it, he " was quite worn out." His exertions for many years, particularly at St. John's, were such, as nature sunk under. In the early part of his ministry, he had been used to preach four times on the Sunday in different Churches, as has been before stated, beside fre- quently reading the prayers ; and, the last summer he spent in town before his paralytic seizure, he fre- quently preached three times on the Sunday at St. John's. Such exertions were painfully observed, by myself and his friends, as Mkely to produce fatal consequences. He was indefatigable in his labours, and fatigue he disregarded. I have often regretted his lying in bed, long wakeful ; and, on enquiring wherefore, he has replied, " I have been making a Sermon." He was urged to unbend his mind from REV. RICHARD CECIL. 51 study ; but his habit was fixed, and he found it difficult to withdraw his mind from close thinking. He never seemed weary of his studies : they were not only his business, but his enjoyment and re- creation — and he used to call it his rest : he felt all demands that infringed on these, his labour, and the return to his study his rest. Few more carefully aimed to redeem time, and to spend it only in what was worthy of a Man and a Christian Minister — Often repeating u For at my back I always hear Time's winged Chariot hurrying near j And onwards, all before, I see Deserts of vast eternity ! " It cannot be doubted but that Mr. Cecil's ardu- ous habits shortened his days : this must ever be deplored ; but a consoling reflection remains, in the contemplation of his great usefulness during his life. His ministry was successful, wherever he was called to reside : some in every place stand as his witnesses, and will rise up and call him blessed. But, while his success was so uniform, and he met with general acceptation wherever he went, this popularity was accompanied with a large por- tion of humility : no one, who knew him intimately, can question this for a moment. No man living could be further removed from ostentation: he was, with others, alive to encouragement, but unmoved by flattery. I have often been quite astonished at hearing him speak of his attainments E 2 52 MEMOIR OF THE and of his labours, in terms which no one could grant as applicable to him. I have reflected, " Surely Mr. C. must know his own comparative attainments ! " but I have still perceived that his acumen of mind led him to extend his view far beyond what he had attained, while he really had attained such a portion of habitual humility, that he very sincerely esteemed others better than him- self: yet, in fact, most of the various points of excellence in other characters were evidently united in his own. Nothing is more common to observation, than persons mistaking qualities of mind, which, in ap- pearance, resemble each other. Dignified senti- ment and conduct are termed pride; firmness — obstinacy; energy — severity; originality — eccen- tricity ; and consummate pride is often mistaken for humility. Mr. C. certainly possessed a dignity of mind and conduct — firmness — energy — and originality: but was as far removed from pride, obstinacy, severity, and eccentricity as most who still bear about a depraved nature and its conse- quent imperfections. It is needless for me to state what acceptance Mr. C. received at St. Johns. His affectionate attachment to that place and people, and the pleasure with which he laboured among them, will best appear by his own expression of it. " I may say, ' Up from my youth have I been nursed in tears:' for, wherever I have been, I have ex- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 53 perienced some degree of unkind treatment and ingratitude, except at St. John's. It is no wonder, therefore, that my ministry there is my delight." He felt at home no where but at St. John's. How, and in what spirit he laboured in this fruitful field, it is not necessary for me to say. This will be taken up by another pen. His ivorks, however, not only follow him; but will remain with us, so long as memory remains : and, should forgetful nature be- come unmindful, we may recal the remembrance of him who had the rule over us ; and, again, in the spirit and words of the Apostle, hear him appealing to our consciences: — For our exhortation teas not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile : But, as we ivere allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gospel, even so we speak ; not as pleasing men, bat God, which trieth our hearts. For neither, at any time, used we flattering words, as ye know ; nor a cloak of covetousness, God is ivitness. Nor of men sought we glory ; neither of you, nor yet of others, when we might have been burdensome as the Apostles of Christ. But we were gentle among you, even as a nurse cherisheth her children : so, being affection- ately desirous of you, we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the Gospel of God o?dy, but also our own soids, because ye were dear unto us. For ye remember, brethren, our labour and travel: for, labouring night and day, because we woidd not be chargeable unto any of you, we preached unto you the Gospel of God. Ye are witnesses, and God 54 MEMOIR OF THE also, how holily, and justly, and unblameably we be- haved ourselves among you that believe : as ye knoiv how ive exhorted, and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children, that ye would walk worthy of God who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory." I will only add, before I close this subject, an in- stance of his continued and anxious solicitude for the place which his soul loved — the welfare and prosperity of his congregation lay near his heart : even when his increasing disease allowed him little hope of resuming his delightful employ of minister- ing among them again, he desired me, while at Clifton in the winter of 1808, to put down from his lips the following memorandum: — " I have sunk considerably more than 2000Z. during the time I have laboured at St. Johns Chapel, in its repair and improvements : and I am now anxious, that, whoever takes the future management of it, should conduct it in the same order; and that no new customs should be introduced — that all neglects and abuses may be watched over and restrained — and that the same grave and holy uni- formity be preserved." It is to be lamented, that, in Mr. Cecil's last illness, we were deprived of that rich vein of reflec- tions, with which we were privileged during his confinement in the year 1798, and which the nature of his fatal disease now impeded. In 1798, though he was torne with pain, yet his mind REV. RICHARD CECIL. 55 retained its full vigour : but, in his last illness, his mind became emaciated as well as his body; and it need not be remarked, that a paralysis often makes as fatal an attack on the mind as on the body : in all cases it weakens, and frequently de- ranges.* * The view of Mr. Cecil's final disease, and the effects of it on his mind, are so justly stated by the Rev. Daniel Wilson, in the second of the two Sermons which he preached at St. John's on occasion of Mr. Cecil's death, that, with his permission, I here insert it : — " During the whole period of his last illness, a space of nearly three years, the state of his mind fluctuated with his malady. Every one, who has had opportunities of observing the operation of palsy, knows, that, without destroying, or, properly speaking, perverting, the reasoning powers, it agitates and enervates them. Every object is presented through a dis- coloured medium. False premises are assumed ; and the mind is some- times more than usually expert in drawing inferences accordingly. In a word, the whole system is deranged and shattered. An excessive care and irritation and despondency are produced, under the impression of which the sufferer acts every moment, without being at all aware of the cause. His morbid anxiety is, besides, fixed on some inconsiderable or ideal matter, which he magnifies and distorts ; whilst he remains incapable of attending to concerns of superior moment ; and any attempts to rectify his misapprehensions quicken the irritation, and increase the effects of the disorder. " Under this peculiar visitation it pleased God that our late venerable father should labour. The energy, and decision, and grandeur of his natural powers, therefore, gradually gave way, and a morbid feebleness succeeded. Yet even in this afflicting state, with his body on one side almost lifeless, his organs of speech impaired, and his judgment weakened, the spiritual dispositions of his heart displayed themselves in a very remark- able manner. He appeared great in the ruins of nature ; and his eminently religious character manifested itself, to the honour of divine grace, in a manner which surprised all who were acquainted with the ordinary effects of paralytic complaints. The actings of hope were, of course, impeded ; but the habit of grace, which had been forming in his mind for thirty or forty years, shone through the cloud. At such a period there was no room for fresh acquisition; . The real character of the man could only appear, when disease allowed it to appear at all, according to the grand leading habits of his life. If his habits had been ambitious, or sensual, or covetous, or worldly, these tendencies, if any, would have displayed themselves ; but as his soul had been long established in grace, and spiritual religion 56 MEMOIR OF THE Nevertheless, through all obstacles, his mind, like the compass, tended ever and only to his one grand object — his interest in his Saviour, and the had been incorporated with all his trains of sentiment and affection, and bad become like a second nature, the holy dispositions of his heart acted with remarkable constancy under all the variations of his illness : so that one of his oldest friends observed tome, that if he had to choose the portion of his life, since he first knew him, in which the evidences of a state of salvation were most decisive, he should, without a moment's hesitation, select the period of his last distressing malady. " Throughout his illness, his whole mind, instead of being fixed on some mean and insignificent concern, was riveted on spiritual objects. Every other topic was so uninteresting to him, and even burdensome, that he could with reluctance allow it to be introduced. The value of his soul, the emptiness of the world, the nearness and solemnity of death, were ever on his lips. He spent his whole time in reading the Scripture, and one or two old divines, particularly Archbishop Leighton. All he said and did was as a man on the brink of an eternal state. " His humility, also, evidently ripened as he approached his end. He was willing to receive advice from every quarter. He listened with anxiety to any hint that was offered him. His view of his own misery and helplessness as a sinner, and of the necessity of being entirely indebted to divine grace, and being saved as the greatest monument of its efficacy, was continually on the increase. " His simplicity and fervour, in speaking of the Saviour, were also very remarkable. As he drew nearer to death, his one topic was— Jesus Christ. All his anxiety and care were centred in this grand point. His apprehensions of the work and glory of Christ, of the extent and suitable- ness of his salvation, and of the unspeakable importance of being spiritually united to him, were more distinct and simple, if possible, than at any period of his life. He spake of Him to his family, with the feeling, and interest, and seriousness of the aged and dying believer. " His faith, also, never failed. I have heard him, with faltering and feeble lips, speak of the great foundations of Christianity with the fullest confidence. He said, he never saw so clearly the truth of the doctrines which he had been preaching, as since his illness. His view of the cer- tainty and excellency of God's promises was in Christ unshaken. " The interest, likewise, which he took in the success of the Gospel, was prominent, when his disease at all remitted. His own people lay near his heart: and, when a providence had occurred which he hoped would promote their benefit, he expressed himself with old Simeon, 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.' " The principal effect of his distemper was in throwing a cloud over REV. RICHARD CECIL. 57 infinite concerns of eternity : from this his atten- tion could not be diverted by any subject of a temporal nature, save one only, and that, with his comfort; yet, in producing tbis, the spiritual tendency of his mind ap- peared. His diseased depression operated indeed, but it was in leading him to set a high standard of holiness, to bring together elevated marks of regeneration, and to require decisive evidences of a spirit of faith and adoption. The acuteness of his judgment then argued so strongly from these false premises, that he necessarily excluded himself, almost entirely from the consolation of hope. If I may allowed a theological term — the objective acts of faith; those that related to the grand objects proposed in the Scriptures on the testimony of God, such as the work of redemption, the person of Christ, and the vit tue of his blood, remained the same ; nay, were ripened and strengthened as his dissolution approached: but the subjective acts of faith ; those which respected his own interest in these blessings, and which gave life to the exercises of hope ; rose and sunk with his disease. He was precisely like a man oppressed by a heavy weight ; as the load was lightened, he began to move and exert himself in his natural manner : when the burden was increased, he sunk down a^ain under the oppression. " About a year before his death, when his powers of mind had for a long time been debilitated, but still retained some remnants of their former vigour, his religious feelings were at times truly desirable. His intellectual powers were indeed too far weakened for joy; but there was a resignation, a tranquillity, a ripeness of grace, a calm and holy repose on the bosom of the Saviour, that quite alarmed, if I may so speak, his anxious family, under the impression that there appeared nothing left for grace to do, and that he would soon be removed from them, as a shock of corn cometh in its season. Even when his disease had made still further progress, as often as the slightest alleviation was afforded him, his judg- ment became more distinct, his morbid depression lessened, and he was moderately composed. It was only a few weeks before his dissolution that such an interval was vouchsafed to him. He then spake with great feeling from the Scriptures, in family worship, for about half an hour ; and dwelt on the love, and grace, and power of Christ with particular com- posure of mind. I had the happiness of visiting him at this season. He was so much relieved from his disease, as to enter with me on general topics relating to religion, and to give me some excellent directions as to my conduct as a minister. In reply to various questions which I put to him, he spake to me to the following purport ; ' I know myself to be a wretched, worthless sinner' (the seriousness and feeling with which he spake I shall never forget,) * having nothing in myself but poverty and sin. I know Jesus Christ to be a glorious and almighty Saviour. I see the full efficacy 38 MEMOIR OF THE subordination and submission. Sometimes, when speaking of his continual need of unabating admi- nistration, and the consequent demands upon my health and spirits, he would say, looking at me with tender affection, " I earnestly wish that I could reward your labours by leaving you an inde- pendency" — but would add, with a firm faith on divine providence " I doubt not but that you and your children will be provided for after my decease. — I can only look to that God who has so gra- ciously taken care of, and provided for me, who entered upon the world without any possessions." His evangelical views became more and more vivid latterly. He read such authors only, as treated these views most simply. Archbishop Leightons Sermons afforded him a continual source of satisfaction. He read them perpetually ; and particularly his Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30 — that on Cant. i. 3 — and two on Horn. viii. 33, 34. He said to me and others, that he earnestly wished all his own writings had been of this description ; and that his Address added to the Life of Mr. Newton, of his atonement and grace ; and I east myself entirely on him, and wait at his footstool. I am aware that my diseased and broken mind makes me incapable of receiving consolation ; but I submit myself wholly to the merciful and wise dispensations of God.' " One or two other interesting testimonies, of the spiritual and devoted state of his heart may be here mentioned. A short time before his decease, he requested one of his family to write down for him in a book the follow- ing sentence : ' None but Christ, none but Christ, said Lambert dying at a stake : the same, in dying circumstances, with his whole heart, saith Richard Cecil.' The name was signed by himself, with his left hand, in a manner hardly legible through infirmity.'' REV. RICHARD CECIL. 59 could be exchanged for an abridgment of the Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30, as infinitely more in- teresting. It cannot be supposed that I mention this, as though any thing in that Address were defective, (for whoever can read that Address without emotion or without a tear, has a proof in his own breast, that he has little experience or a hard heart) but, rather to shew his humility ; and, also, how he esteemed every thing as dross, compared with that one object which led him so often to repeat, with the martyr Lambert, " None but Christ! — None but Christ!" — While his fatal ma- lady had much impaired his natural powers, and contracted his former grasp of thought, he retained, like the blessed Apostle John, one faculty in per- fection, that of an adherence of heart to the bosom of his Saviour, with that true contrition of spirit described in that Address, and which the High avid Lofty One regards with delight in his children. Mr. Cecil's disease tended to produce frequent irritation : the impulse was sudden, and irresistible; but these irritations were so insignificant in their consequences, that the chief pain produced by them arose from observing his own poignant feel- ings on such occasions. He would recur, in a moment, to his principles: and would express, in the strongest terms, his detestation and self- abasement; intreating forgiveness, forbearance, and patience. Indeed, it excited exquisite pain, and 6° MEMOIR OF THE often surprise, in the minds of those around, to remark, that the slightest instances of these irrita- tions never failed to produce the strongest expres- sions of humiliation : he continually brought to my recollection the words of the Prophet, Thou hast laid thy body as the ground; and as the street, to them- that went over. One evening after reading his Bible for some hours, he said to me " I derive my whole consola- tion from meditating on the Godhead and character of Jesus, in whom I place all my hope! Him, hath God exalted with his right-hand, to be a Prince and a Saviour ; for to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins" His habit of reading remained with him to his last hours. He was wholly engaged in reading the choicest parts of such authors as Leighton, Trail, Boston, and Gurnall. This last he was reading at the moment when the apoplectic seizure took place. Blessed is that servant, whom his Lord, when he cometh shall find so doing! Luke xii. 43. — He read GiirntaH's " Christian Armour' without intermission, during the last four days of his life; and expressed his having been much helped and benefited by that writer. Notwithstanding the deep inroad which disease had made on his intellectual powers, whereby his enjoyment was eclipsed and his comfort over- shadowed, yet I had the satisfaction of observing (as had some of those friends who had access to REV. RICHARD CECIL. 61 him) that, through all impediments, his real ripen- ing for glory was manifest, as he travelled nearer and nearer to the grave — in his childlike simpli- city — his humility, self-abasement, and increasing estimation of his adorable Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Though, as I have before remarked, his mind was often bowed down by the fatal paralysis which put an end to his labours, yet he retained to the last something of his ministerial spirit ; and, in a lucid moment, often spoke of preaching again, saying, " Should it please God ever to raise me up to preach again, Christ would be my only subject!" On this Rock of Ages he had, by divine help, built for eternity — a building, which the winds of adversity could not shake. His place of defence, and his treasure was on high ; and where his treasure was, there was his heart also; and, though called to wade through a dark dispensa- tion, yet his long and gracious habit, (which never left him) of turning to his Heavenly Father, re- mained as the evening time light, till he was ad- mitted to a mansion where there is night no more. In conversation with a friend and minister, he said, " In your preaching hold up Christ. This should be your great object and aim in your Ser- mons. Some have objected, that I have preached too much on Faith ; but, were I to preach again, they would hear much more of it." But he had finished his public course, and was 62 MEMOIR OF THE no more able to resume his ministry. He had another, and a very different lesson to learn in the school of Christ. After having- exhibited the Saviour with fervour and faithfulness in public, he was taken aside into a sick chamber— there to be more emphatically taught, what he had declared to others, that none but Christ could meet the wants of a dying sinner. From this chamber and this dispensation, he did indeed preach again, and aloud, to the heart, on that important warning of our Lord — be ye also ready. Nor did his faith fail him here, but remained firm, while every thing else was shaken: nor did I ever, at any time, hear him declare his faith with more stedfast- ness, than in the days of his affliction. It was a ground of much comfort to me to observe, that at no period during this visitation — even when disease made the deepest inroad on his health and faculties, and Satan's temptations harassed his enfeebled mind- did his object vary, but remained one and the same with that in the days of his health — " Christ crucified, for the chief of sinners!" — the only point worthy the contemplation of a mortal hastening into the eternal world ! The total loss of the use of his right-liand pre- vented his putting on paper many things interest- ing; and hiffhly instructive : this he often lamented ; while the agitation of his nerves rendered it im- practicable to be done by others. I have, with mournful pleasure, discovered passages in his Bible, REV. RICHARD CECIL. 63 evidently marked since his diseased state, to which he has with a trembling left-hand put his initials " R. C. Amen!" testifying his hope and confidence in the all-sufficiency and atoning merit of his Saviour. I Cor. xvi. 22. — Rev. v. 12. A short time before his decease, on hearing the 2d chapter of Jonah read at family worship, he was much impressed by it, and gathered from it great consolation. He spoke on it for a consider- able time ; and, the next day, desired me to read the Book of Jonah through to him: after which he made many beautiful observations —and remarked how it extended to every possible case — and afforded unlimited hope, and furnished a perfect antidote to despondency — with many other obser- vations, which have escaped my memory. I must ever regret, that the nature of my employment in attending him prevented the possibility of my securing on paper many ot his valuable conversa- tions, at those intervals when a ray of divine consolation broke through the cloudy and dark day of disease. It has been before remarked that Mr. Cecil's views became more and more simply evangelical, particularly during the days of his affliction. In this school he had long been taught : high lessons were here put before him ; and, in his own Avords in his " Visit to the House of Mourning/' I may say of him — " The great Husbandman will not fail to adopt the sharpest means for the improve- 64 MEMOIR OF THE ment of his choicest plants :" and, again, from his favourite Leighton — " The Church is God's jewelry — his working-house, where his jewels are polished for his palace ; and those he especially esteems and means to make most resplendent, he hath oftenest his tools upon them." — Thus the ever-dear departed passed through many tribula- tions; and, as the Apostle speaks, filled up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in his flesh, for his hodys sake, which is the Church." Tims was he conformed to his Saviour — and thus he trod the highway of the cross to the kingdom, there to receive a crown of life, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give. While it was a most melancholy post of observation to mark the daily progress and depre- dations made on such a mind by disease; and while his shattered state could not but lead me often to exclaim with the Prophet How are the mighty fallen I — yet it was a scene replete with important instruction. I have been deeply impressed on remarking, how he bowed to his dispensation — how submissively he passed through the valley of humiliation; and shone resplendent, even in the ruins of nature. Endless, indeed, would be the instances of dignity and beauty which might be exhibited of this rich and honoured character, were I to retrace the space of near thirty years — privileged with such a guide, companion, and friend!- but my health and spirits fail me, and REV. RICHARD CECIL. 65 only admit me mournfully to complain, with the Prophet, " My father!"—" My father!"- ashamed and confounded while I meditate on my own un- worthiness, and the little improvement of so great a talent! I cannot but remark that Mr. C. possessed opposite points of excellence beyond most men. While he was generous and liberal to others, I have known him much wanting to himself. He has often, after walking in great pain and fatigue, come into his house faint and exhausted, rather than allow himself the accommodation of a coach; and, when I have remonstrated with him upon it, he would reply — " You know I have great demands, and enough to do to meet them." Not that he did not see the mistake, when too late to remedy it; and, had it been for myself or a child, he would have lost sight of the expence, and regarded only our relief: nay, perhaps the very next hour his compassion to others would lead him to give to a poor distressed object at his door. Here was high principle, — humanity, and self-denial. He was neither extravagant nor penurious ; but endeavoured wisely to steer between both these extremes. He was abstemious to an unusual extent. It has been remarked by some, that it was a defect in Mr. Cecil, that he did not lay by some- thing for his family. This objection could only arise in the mind of those, who were not acquainted t F 66 MEMOIR OF THE with his circumstances; and from a mistaking view of his affairs : the error of which would evidently appear, on a full investigation of both. But it is not my intention to enter into these particulars. The man, who felt it a duty to forego taking a coach, that he might not add to the common demands of his family, sufficiently proves that he had nothing to lay by. Yet I do not speak in respect of want: that God, whom he served in his spirit, did not leave him to want ; but rather taught him to live by the day in dependance on his gracious providence, which often appeared conspicuous, by timely interferences and most unexpected helps, when he has been reduced to his last resource, and perfectly ignorant by what means he could possibly meet the next demand ; and he had serious and delicate objections to bor- rowing — but, in the mount of the Lord, his arm has been seen. Indeed if any objections may have been formed to any part of Mr. Cecils conduct, I must be per- mitted to believe, that they arise only from a par- tial knowledge : but, should they, in any case, originate in a want of liberality and charity, I would say, — " Restrain reflection. Go thou, and do like him. Go, like him, and mourn over defects in secret. Go, like him, and pray against them in the closet. Go, like him, and correct, and bring them into subjection. Go, like him, and keep under thy body, thy thoughts, and thy tongue." REV. RICHARD CECIL. 67 It has been well remarked by an old writer — " That nothing softeneth the arrogance of our nature, like a mixture of some frailties. It is by them, we are told, that we must not strike too hard on others, because we ourselves do so often deserve blows: they pull our rage by the sleeve, and whisper gentleness to us in our censures, even when they are rightly applied." May I be allowed to digress for a few moments, with remarks not altogether irrelative to this narra- tive ; and to explain some points in Mr. Cecil's cha- racter and conduct, which have been either little understood, or altogether mis-understood. It has been conceived by some, that he possessed a proud independence of spirit ; which discovered itself in the refusal of favours offered by generous friends, who not only would gladly have admi- nistered to his necessities, but to his comfort. In his single state, his necessities were compara- tively few : his ardent mind, and his conceptions of the ministerial character, naturally led him to fall in with the sentiment of the Apostle — Willing to endure hardship, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. It is to be considered, that, not only when a single man, but at all times, his whole soul was under the influence of a sacred dedication to the grand object which he had in view. He was naturally intrepid, and did not appear to possess with men in common the fears and anxieties at- tending poverty. There Mas nothing, which he F 2 68 MEMOIR OF THE would not have made a willing sacrifice to his grand object— the Church; with a firm determina- tion to avoid all impediments in the way of his reproving and exhorting ivith all authority, in the midst of a corrupt generation — striving to become a light, and not a stumbling-block among them. He was, therefore, while gratefully alive to favour and friendship, not to be fettered by any — not to be shackled by obligations to the creature, so as to endanger his faithfulness: but, with a dignified and christianized inde- pendence, he pursued his course, unconcerned as to what might befal him in the way. Thus he recommended himself to every man's conscience ; and proved the reality of his faith, and the integ- rity of his heart. With respect to offered favours, he was much in- fluenced by time — manner — and circumstan- ces. If he could trace them as arising from any intimations from himself, however accidentally brought out, he felt a noble, as well as delicate recoiling: or, if the persons giving were not in easy circumstances, his benevolence of heart re- volted at availing himself of their liberality ; and, on such occasions, he has refused favours, though most kindly offered. On the other hand, where any thing appeared to him to come in the course of providence, and he had sufficient evidence of this, no man more humbly or more willingly ac- cepted whatever was presented to him. For the REV. RICHARD CECIL. 69 smallest gift, he has expressed the greatest satis- faction ; and always felt particular pleasure in any thing however small, being presented to him as a token of affection. It was under these impres- sions that he said, with reference to his accepting a benefit of considerable magnitude afforded him by a friend — " I quiet myself with thinking, it pleases God to quarter me upon helps out of my- self, to make me feel my utter dependence." It may, indeed, easily be conceived, that a man so justly beloved, and with so many friends, might have enriched himself, had not some higher prin- ciple guided his conduct. Duty varies with circumstances. Whatever Mr. C. perceived to be a duty, he never asked a question upon. When it pleased God rapidly to encrease his family, and thereby his expenses, he readily and thankfully received whatever Provi- dence was pleased to send ; and considered it as granted for the express purpose of supplying his need : — that being evident he refused no assis- tance, where he did not see some clear and delicate reason, why it was improper, all things considered, to do otherwise. Herein appeared not only his integrity and his faith, but his submission to the will of that God whom he served in his spirit, thus made known to him : he used cheerfully to say, on a child being added to his family, " I now ex- pect an addition to my income, though I know not from what quarter." In the year 1781, he had 70 MEMOIR OF THE married one of his parishioners from Lewes, by whom he had eleven children, six of which are living. While Mr. C. cautiously avoided the error of enthusiasm, he possessed a faith as simple as it was energetic ; and, though he was often in straits, he felt at such times something like a man who has little or nothing in his purse, yet is not anxiously careful, knowing that he has at his banker's suffi- cient for all his wants. The truth is, as a minister of Jesus Christ he aimed, in all situations, to ivalk at liberty — worthy his high calling. Though the principles which actuated his conduct might not appear to the superficial observer, yet they were not the less real and evident to those who knew him intimately, and could trace the purity of his motives. Mr. Cecil's natural perceptions were quick, and his feelings exquisite. He was most sensibly alive to kindness or unkindness. I have often, long af- terward, discovered with astonishment, his having keenly felt the one or the other, when, at the moment, I had no perception of it ; as his cast of character led him to think, rather than speak, under such impressions. Indeed his feelings were too acute for his comfort ; and his views of recti- tude were so high, that they opened perpetual avenues to pain : but this tended to keep his mind more stedfastly fixed on that world, where disorder or deformity have no place — He often quoted the REV. RICHARD CECIL. 71 words of Hooker on his death-bed, who exulted in the prospect of entering a world of order. I cannot omit observing, that humanity was a very striking feature in Mr. Cecil's character, inso- much as frequently to produce great pain and self- torture. The very contemplation of oppression was intolerable to him. To use his own words — " There is nothing I abhor like cruelty and op- pression. Tenderness and sympathy is not enough cultivated by any of us — ' There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart !' No one is kind enough — gentle enough — forbearing and forgiving enough. We find throughout our Lord's history the strongest traits of compassion.'' He felt exquisitely where he conceived a wife was not treated kindly. He used to say, that so much power was lodged in man, and so much dependence and helplessnes in a woman, that it required a large portion of candour not to believe that they must suffer ; especially where grace did not come in aid, and regulate the depraved pas- sions of mankind. This tender susceptibility was delicately, though familiarly expressed by himself, some years since, when speaking of the breaking down of his tabernacle: — " I don't know," said he, " any thing that convinces me of my weak state more, than that I cannot now bear to see oppression as I formerly could. Though, when I had better health and more strength, I equally deplored it: yet I was able to view it more 72 MEMOIR OF THE abstractly, and with more Christian Philosophy ; and to leave things, which could not be amended, to the great Moral Governor, who is infinite in compassion — notices the oppressor and the op- pressed — and, in his own time, will both recom- pence and deliver : for, Shall not the Judge of all the Earth do right ? Still, I sink under the very recollection of scenes, which I have witnessed ; and sometimes lie sleepless all night, from having seen an instance of cruelty in the day." These interior impressions could never be dis- covered in his converse with the world, much less from the pulpit — where, like the eagle, he soared on high, where the object of his high calling filled his whole soul, and wherein his unwearied labours tended to wear away that invaluable life, so willingly spending and spent in that service. He used to speak of himself as being, by nature, violently passionate. If it were so, much indeed was due to the power and glory of that grace, which subdued his passion. Whenever he spoke of the defects which he thought peculiar to his constitution, which he ever did in the language of the Prophet's roll, with lamentation, and mourning, and woe — it appeared to me like romance. I never could attach reality to such ideas: and, indeed, it was difficult to discover what his natural defects really were, while they were under per- petual chastisement and controul ; insomuch that he ever manifested patience, forbearance, and the REV. RICHARD CECIL. 73 utmost condescension — the most tender sympathy, and the most lively affection. Though his aspect and manner frequently obscured the real kindness of his disposition, and sometimes he might be thought like Joseph to speak roughly, of which he was not only aware, but deeply lamented it; yet his heart was also like Josephs, full of love to his brethren: and whatever bore a contrary aspect may be accounted for, from his abstract habits, a love of retirement, a natural quickness of mind, and great energy— and not from the absence of REAL CHRISTIAN PHILANTHROPY. Men have been said to resemble animals. Mr. Cecil's resemblance to the Lion — distinguished for his majestic aspect — his dignity, generosity, and superiority — was conspicuous ! I remember on going to the Tower, many years ago, seeing one of those magnificent animals, in whose den lived a little Dog, who made very free with his superior ; and fawned, or barked, or bit, as his humour turned. The Lion, instead of resenting either the insults or impertinent familiarities received from his companion, still retained his own dignity, and looked on the conduct of the little cur with generosity and complacency : instead of crushing him with his paw, he let him bark, or bite, or play — because, he was a lion ! I have often re- cognized similar conduct in Mr. C. — As the Lion among the brute tribes, was my dearest husband among men. His dignity, liberality, and self- 74 MEMOIR OF THE possession, were most evident in all his dealings with them. Where he discovered any one in- clined to impose on him, he would, with Christian forbearance, withdraw; but would studiously avoid giving- pain by conveying an intimation that he perceived the attempt — except where he felt himself called to appear as a reprover, and then, he spoke most freely and openly. Viewing the obliquities of the age, or of individuals, he often quoted Jer. xv. 10. Wo is me, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife: and would fre- quently recur to that remarkable chap. Eze. ii. which was the appointed lesson on the day of his ordination, as descriptive of his arduous and diffi- cult course in his ministry — and which made such a strong impression on his mind at the time, that it continued with him through life. He had learnt from his Divine Master, to unite the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove; and when any treated meanly with him, he never resented it, but always endeavoured to render good for evil. Innumerable instances of this kind I could mention, were it necessary or proper. He was kind to all. His manly affec- tion did not appear in a trifling, frivolous, and disgusting form, but in the beauty of reality and MEANING. Nothing was more striking in his character, than his high probity. If he had raised an ex- pectation in the mind of any one, no inconvenience REV. RICHARD CECIL. 75 — no labour — no loss — could lead him to disap- point such expectation. This sentiment he urged perpetually on the mind of his children ; and la- mented that human conduct fell so far below that perfect example of our Blessed Saviour, who never failed to meet every expectation which he had raised in the breast of his creatures. — " This," said he, " is the high privilege of Christianity, that none, who trust in Him, shall ever be con- founded." A perfect description of this part of his character may be found in the xvth Psalm: — Lord who shall abide in thy tabernacle ? Who shall dwell in thy holy hill? — He, that walketh up- rightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart. He, that backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbour, nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbour. In ivhose eyes a vile person is contemned : but he ho- noureth them that fear the Lord. He, that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not. He, that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh re- ward against the innocent. He, that doeth these things, shall never be moved. Among many other instances of his probity, one, in his early childhood, is singular. His father went on business to the India House, and took his son with him : while he was transacting his business, his son was dismissed, and directed to wait for him at the India House door. His father, 76 MEMOIR OF THE on finishing his business, went out at another door, and entirely forgot that he had ordered his son to wait for him. In the evening, his mother, missing the child, enquired where he was : on which his father, recollecting his directions, said, " You may depend on it, he is still waiting where I appointed him." He immediately returned to the India House, and found him on the spot where he had been ordered to wait. He knew that his father expected him to wait, — and probity kept him from disappointing expectation. At no period of Mr. Cecil's life, even at the worst of times, did he ever cease to regulate his actions by a principle of honour. The strong and active mind which he possessed, when a child, put him on many projects, which made great demands on his pocket-money ; and, had not a principle of integrity restrained him, he might have supplied himself from his father's bureau, which he saw left open day after day, with considerable sums of money, which his father was in the habit of throw- ing into it without taking account of it : — While his son knew that any being taken from it would never have been discovered, he felt a horror at the thought of availing himself of the smallest sum, although opportunity and necessity were so com- bined to form a temptation to so young a subject. It was a great preservation to Mr. C. that while he was under the " reign of sin," he had an utter- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 77 detestation of the leading vices so incident to youth: — He equally abhorred the character of the liar, the drunkard, and the epicure. But I will not detain the reader by enumerating facts. I am aware that persons, not fully com- prehending Mr. Cecil's character for want of more interior knowledge of it and opportunity of closer observation, may think that I am influenced by partiality. I can only leave such persons to think — while I remain to know, that, as was said by the Queen of Sheba, The half is not told. Not that I mean to convey an idea of a perfect character, while I slightly glance at qualities little known, in one who stood so high in attainment, as a Man and a Christian, yet was so practically pe- netrated with a sense of his own deficiences, and so humbled by this view — and where any thing, which he had said or done, could give pain to others, so anxious to render sevenfold back; — so that I wish for no higher pedestal upon which to exhibit his excellencies, than those things which he viewed as his defects. The defects of a hus- band, however, where they do exist, it becomes not a wife to discuss, even where they are obvious to herself and others. I have said, that, in any case, where Mr. C. had caused pain, he was anxious to render back. He had said or done something which he perceived had grieved me : which, however, was so inconsi- derable an act, that I have not the least remaining 78 MEMOIR OF THE recollection of what it was. On walking out the same day with his son, then a child, he stopped to buy an article which he conceived I should like. After he had made the purchase, his son said to him, " What do you buy it for, Papa?" He replied, " My dear, I grieved your Mamma to- day, and I want to give this to her in token of my concern and affection." Mr. Cecil spent almost the whole of his time in his study, and was tenacious of being interrupted in his pursuits : yet there was not one in his family, even the youngest, but had a free (if timely) access to him: on presenting any little wants or mis- fortunes before him, he would regard them with attention; and, with the most generous kindness, render little offices of reparation, or accommodation. This temper of mind pervaded all his domestic conduct. I can scarcely open a book, if given by him, but it exhihits an instance, either of his ten- derness, his delicate sentiment, or pious admoni- tion. The reader will better conceive than I can describe, with what various emotions of heart I now read one of these — which was written on a blank leaf in his " Visit to the House of Mourn- ing," previous to his giving it to me : — " The Author presents a token of his affection to one, who in the 49th page, has (without a name) a pre- eminence of place Earnestly praying, that, whenever he must quit her hand, he may yet REV. RICHARD CECIL. 79 watch her solitary steps ; and sometimes silently administer to the safety and comfort of the beloved pilgrim, by a hint from this little monitor." Very many similar and endearing instances of his kindness might be inserted, were it not that they would lead me to speak too much of myself : they remain, therefore, more properly the subject of my own solitary recollection — the tender re- membrancers of a long affection — and to heighten the standard by which I estimate my sad bereave- ment. If I further refer to Mr. C. as a husband, it shall be by shewing his picture drawn by him- self in a series of letters, wherein appears the fa- miliar and affectionate, no less than the melan- cholic and reflective turn of Mr. Cs mind — though, in so doing, I must sacrifice that delicacy, which as being the subject of his correspondence, would lead me to withdraw.* If I speak of the dear subject of this Memoir as a Parent, it shall be in his own words, dictated by him in his last hours, and addressed to his son in the East: which contain, in a few lines, the essence of the Gospel ; and discover a parental solicitude, that his son might become a partaker in the great salvation : — MY DEAR SON : " June, 1810. " I have received your letters, and they would have been duly answered; but for the last two * See his Letters annexed to this Memoir. 80 MEMOIR OF THE years, a severe illness, has so occupied both your mother and me, that we have had no opportunity. I am only able now, in a dying state, to send my blessing, and prayers for your welfare. I wish to say that Christ is your all, in time and eternity. I have been in a most affecting state by a paraly- tic stroke — but Christ is all that can profit you or me — a whole volume could not contain more, or so much. Oh pray day and night for an interest in Him ! — and this is all I can say — it being more than having the Indies." Mr. Cecils solicitude for the welfare of his chil- dren, in all their various interests, was entire, anxious, and unabating. He excited them, by precept and by example ; and encouraged the smallest indications, of virtue or piety, which he observed in them — holding up religion to their view, not only as excellent in itself, but as highly ornamental. No parent could be more benevolent toward his family, according to his power. — He endea- voured to supply what might be wanting in ac- complishment, as it is generally understood, by storing their minds with a rich fund of moral reflections : and, in this view, they have received a high education; for as he used to remark, " Mere accomplishment is but a temporary possession; while one maxim of moral wisdom, received, and brought into practice, goes forth and REV. RICHARD CECIL. 81 travels with us through eternity." He frequently said he would have spent largely on the education of each of his children had he been able. He gave his sons this advantage : and he did this on prin- ciple, knowing that it was all that he could give them ; and, with this, he knew they might make their way through life respectably. He ever laboured to impress on all his children the advantage of industry and effort ; of which he was himself their example. He would say — •" Do SOMETHING — have a PROFESSION — be EMINENT in it — MAKE YOURSELVES INDEPENDENT." Hints of this kind, were interspersed among a variety of other useful and invaluable instruction to his chil- dren ; and, in proportion to their high privilege, is their irreparable loss, that such a parent was re- moved before they could be launched on the dangerous ocean of the world: — the thought of which, were he still a subject susceptible of pain, would hold a place among the tenderest of his sorrows. For although he rejoiced in those pro- mises on which his faith built, as appropriate to a necessarily dependent family, yet he could not rejoice in their becoming dependent. He was neither indifferent to their welfare, nor improvident respecting their future wants — but, he lacked op- portunity. He anxiously aimed to convince his children of the emptiness of the things of time. Anecdotes, enquiries, or sentiments, brought forward by them t G 82 MEMOIR OF THE in the course of conversation, afforded him matter ; and, on these occasions, his children were equally delighted and instructed ; for his lively genius and fertile imagination illuminated the whole con- versation. Daily occurrences — public facts — or public sentiments, were opportunities of which he availed himself, to inculcate on their minds im- portant truths : they drew from him reflections and maxims — at once familiar, natural, and in- teresting. His high attainment in the just estima- tion of whatever relates to this life only, ena- bled him to speak as one who felt what he asserted ; and to place his sentiments before them in a manner so vivid, that, with the sentiments, he he also communicated a perception of the futi- lity of all temporal things, however splendid. He spake of them as " baubles for the children of this world" — " A lying, dying, pageant, which passeth away as a dream." Mr. C. may have been censured for not letting his children mix more with society: but he used to say " Purity of character is to be preferred to accomplishment;" and he was aware of snares and traps into which young minds might fall. If, however, mixed society was any loss, that loss was amply compensated by his own, which was always interesting and enriching. His readiness to gratify innocent requests was ever alive. Many instances might be recorded, but one shall suffice On his daughters asking him, just as he was going REV. RICHARD CECIL. 83 out into company, to give her words to a tune which she had composed, he did not disregard or forget her request ; but, while general conversa- tion was proceeding, he wrote unobserved a few verses which he presented to her on his return. He used to remark, that a father was not less affectionately mindful of his children, while toiling abroad for them ; than the mother, who was fond- ling them at home. His feelings toward his own children were roused, whenever he heard the cries of any of them ; which the discipline and regula- tions of a young family, with depraved passions, will inevitably sometimes produce. Speaking on such occurrences afterward, he would say, " 1 perceive, that, if it should please God to remove the mother, my children must be ruined; for I find, that I could give no one but a mother credit sufficient to maintain proper authority. I can scarcely bear to sit still in my study, and hear them cry out under chastisement even now, without rising to make enquiry : but I say to my- self ' It is the mother !' and I am quieted/' Not that he was wanting or remiss in reproof, where he saw it needful : on the contrary, he highly dis- approved the manner of some parents, whose re- proof extends only to — Nay! my sons — where there ought to be firmness and decision. Yet he possessed also the opposite point of tenderness, in a high degree : and his delicate apprehensions will appear in a few verses which he wrote, and G 2 84 MEMOIR OF THE gave to me with a view to divert and sooth my sorrow, on a child, only one month old, being re- moved at day-break ; whose countenance, at the time of departure, was most heavenly : — Let me go : for the day breaketh. " Cease here longer to detain me, Fondest Mother drown'd in woe : Now thy kind caresses pain me, Morn advances — Let me go. ft See yon orient streak appearing! Harbinger of endless day : Hark ! a voice the darkness chearing, Calls my new-born soul away ! " Lately launched a trembling Stranger, On the world's wild boisterous flood, Pierc'd with sorrows, toss'd with danger, Gladly I return to God. " Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Now my trembling heart find rest : Kinder arms than thine receive me, Softer pillow than thy breast. " Weep not o'er these eyes that languish, Upward turning t'ward their Home : Raptur'd they'll forget all anguish, While thty wait to see thee come. " There, my Mother, pleasures centre, — —Weeping, Parting, Care, or Woe Ne'er our Father's House shall enter — — Morn advances — Let me go.— " As through this calm, holy dawning Silent glides my parting breath, To an everlasting Morning, — Gently close my eyes in death. " Blessings endless, richest blessings, Pour their streams upon thy heart ! (Though no language yet possessing) Breathes my Spirit e'er wc part. REV. RICHARD CECIL. 85 u Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me, Though again his voice I hear : Rise! May every grace attend thee Rise ! and seek to meet me there." This memorial, however, differs materially from that found in Mr. Cecil's " Visit to the House of Mourning." In that stroke, the heart is seen not only wounded, but bleeding — while the knife cuts deep. There is seen, the struggle of a pious heart with the ties of nature. There is seen, submis- sion to divine wisdom, and a steady and over- coming faith. Nor can I ever lose sight of that flood of tears which then poured from his eyes, when reluctant nature was constrained to resign a beloved child to the cold arms of death ; and to that world, where he now beholds her, and needs no longer, as he then expressed, to " Wish to leave the world, and go to his Father, that he might enquire into the whole of the case — the reasons — the steps— the issue — Here again the Gardener is seen, " cutting the pomegranate tree almost through." — # On a leaf in an old Common-Place Book, I lately found the following passage; which I in- sert, as being in harmony with the above. " Blessed God ! how does nature cleave to a family! How shall I leave them destitute — in weakness — in sin — and in the world ! Blessed be thy name, ' Thou hast overcome the sharpness of * See these Memoirs, page 9. G3 8 6 MEMOIR OF THE death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.'— There shall I find all that I wish to find — My wife, if thine, in perfect love insepara- bly united — My children, if thine, without cause of anger or grief — My children that are now thine. Our views — joys — and praises — object and state, eternally the same ! — Our sins, sorrows, and sigh- ing for ever fled away !" In our family worship the Scripture was read, in course, by one of his children. While the pas- sage was reading, he frequently interspersed short, pithy, and instructive remarks, in the most easy and familiar manner. Of his prayers, I can only say, that I never did, nor do I ever expect, to hear, any like them, in simplicity, unction, and devotion — and in that filial fear, affection, and re- verence, which bespoke much of that nearness and close friendship with his God and Saviour, which he so often expressed and so variously ex- emplified as the high privilege of a Christian. While his prayers comprehended much, both in their matter and manner, yet they were always short. He aimed to make his family worship useful, without becoming irksome. Latterly they were often alarming, as well as edifying to my own heart, while I discerned him rapidly matur- ing for that world, where prayer is exchanged for endless praise. There — as described in a consolatory letter from a friend after Mr. Cecil's removal — we con- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 87 template him, without gloom — " To him, the change was inexpressibly glorious. All his friends will truly rejoice, that he was not called longer to suffer in a state which could not but be deeply affecting to all who remembered his great talents, his extensive usefulness, his ardent desire to do good, his fervent piety, his stedfast faith, and his pure conduct. Indeed he possessed such a com- bination of excellent graces, as are very rarely, in- deed scarcely ever to be found in one individual. They have not, however, perished : they are al- ready blooming in another soil ; under a genial climate, where they will produce fruits which will flourish through eternity. How truly will you now rejoice in the honourable course which he run! The days of his sickness and infirmity, blessed be God, are now ever terminated : and he is, what he always desired and longed to be — wholly devoted to the will of God." For him, therefore, we weep not: but for our- selves : while we may say of him, as he once said in a letter to a friend after burying a pious member of his congregation* — ' After I had put her into the grave, the rest went away. I stood looking in : every body had lamented, and said, ' How sad!' 7, though I cannot now write for tears, looked in again — and said " How ivell /" * Mrs. Singleton, of Lamb's Conduit Place : whose remains, at the request of the family, were deposited in St. John's Chapel, till they could be conveniently removed to Ireland. 88 MEMOIR OF THE Still I contemplate him gone : whither he is gone, and to whom — silences nature's perturbed spirit — mingles in the bitter cup — and brightens the overwhelming gloom; and the assurance of that prayer being answered, which he so often and so fervently offered up — that when death ap- proached he " might have nothing to do but to die" — opens a bright prospect beyond the grave. I sorrow, therefore, with " a sure and certain hope :" and, though allowed to mourn, let me not faint; but cultivate the recollection of that gra- cious Providence, which so long sheltered a feeble plant as in a hot-house— nor let me complain, when the same gracious Providence calls me to feel the chill of a wintry clime in my latter day — u Yet nature may have leave to speak, And plead before her God ; Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break, Beneath its heavy load." Conscious that any attempt at describing the excellent qualities which my beloved and ho- noured husband possessed, seems rather to lessen than to display them — yet, as we fondly indulge in speaking of what we love, I venture on the candor of his friends, while thus bearing my testi- mony, however feeble, to a memory so dear: not without being fully aware, that whatever falls from so inadequate a pen, must, like the picture of a consummate beauty, sink far below the origi- nal — but, if one — who shared so large, so long, REV. RICHARD CECIL. 89 and so pure a portion of his affection, should be silent, The very stones would cry out of the wall, and the beams out of the timber tvould answer. Few, I believe, will be found forming objections to Mr. Cecil's character: while many will join me in believing, that no one was more justly beloved, than he who is the subject which has so long detained me in this splendid field of riches and beauty. It is frequently remarked, that biographers have so much recourse to panegyric, that it is often dif- ficult to obtain an impartial view of the character described. A just statement of facts has in this Memoir superseded panegyric. I appeal to those who knew Mr. C. intimately : Do these papers contain panegyric ? Do they not contain a simple statement of facts? — a simple description of a character affording a high example ? What disin- terested generosity and liberality — yet how pro- vident! What zeal and energy — yet how truly affectionate ! How alive to evil — yet most forgiv- ing and forbearing ! Possessing high attainments — yet glorying in nothing, but the cross, by which the world was crucified unto him and he unto the ivorld! Nor, indeed, has man, as such, anything whereof to glory. " God makes men great," Dr. Erskine remarks, " by bestowing on them distin- guished genius and talents. Some of the courtiers of the Emperor Sigismund, who had no taste for learning, enquired why he so honoured and res- 90 MEMOIR OF THE pec ted men of low birth, on account of their science. The Emperor replied, ' In one day, I can confer knighthood or nobility on many : in many years, I cannot bestow genius on one. Wise and learned men are created by God only.' No advantage of education, no favourable combina- tion of circumstances, produce talents, where the Father of Spirits dropped not the seeds of them, in the souls which he made." Were I to dwell on all the subjects which still rise before my mind, I should extend this Memoir to an undue length. Indeed, while I have been passing from scene to scene and ruminating on the past, I seem to have presented but a mere out- line, which it is impossible to fill up with the more interior, affecting, and interesting shades — " How dark, though fleeting, are the days of man ! What countless sorrows crowd his narrow span ! For what is life ? — A groan, a breath, a sigh, A bitter tear, a drop of misery, A lamp just dying in sepulchral gloom, A voice of anguish from the lonely tomb. Or wept or weeping, all the change we know; Tis all our mournful history below. Pleasure is grief, but smiling to destroy ; And what is sorrow but the ghost of joy?" To look backward, is but the retrospect of a weary days journey, or a distempered nights dream : to look forward, is to awaken sorrows more acute — to view a dark prospect and a lonely pilgrimage, which nothing can brighten on this side the grave, but those hopes which stretch be- REV. RICHARD CECIL. 91 yoncl it, and that faith which penetrates the veil of time and follows the deceased to his blest abode ! Having beguiled my sorrows by paying this tri- bute to the memory of my beloved husband ; and having stated some facts in his history and cha- racter, with which none can be so well acquainted as myself: and recorded a few singular instances of an ever-ruling Providence, with some of the exercises and effusions of a gracious heart — during a life of labour, pain, and affliction — I now resign my pen, and leave to my kind friend, the Editor of Mr. Cecil's works, the task of speaking largely and justly on his character — while I mournfully remain, esteeming it my highest honour, still to subscribe myself by his dear, and revered name J. CECIL. Little James Street t May 1st, 1811. 92 MEMOIR OF THE POSTSCRIPT. I beg leave to avail myself of this, as the only public opportunity of acknowledging the continued remembrance of my dear husband, in a subscrip- tion opened by his friends, for the support of his family. This answer to his faith in God, and his confidence in his friends' kindness, becomes a subject of my praise to him, who is the first cause of every benefit; and of my gratitude both to Him, and to those who " have been forward" on this occasion. On the review of my irreparable loss, on the one hand, and of my circumstances on the other, I was reduced to cast my burden on Omnipotence, in the hope " That the Lord God of Hosts would be gracious to the remnant of Joseph" — and I may now add, " Blessed be the Lord God of our Fathers, which hath put such a thing as this into many hearts." Though I can render no other recompense than a grateful acknowledgment, yet, while passing my eye over the record of names, still testifying their love to the deceased, it affords me some consola- tion to recollect, that there is also another re- cord — one on high ; and a time hastening on, REV. RICHARD CECIL. 93 when those books will be opened, — the contents made public to angels and men — and when no in- stance of love will either be overlooked or forgot- ten — but a full reward be rendered to every one, though but for a cup of cold water. In the mean while, may the Father of the Fatherless and Judge of the Widow render back a present recompence, equal to all the kindness for which, under God, I am indebted. Whatever is cast into this treasury, is placed in the hands of trustees : and, whatever be the amount, I desire to regard it with thankfulness, as a token of the mind and will of the God of my husband, respecting those whom — "He has left, destitute — in weakness — in sin — and in the world. 19 * * See these Memoirs, p. 8.5. LETTERS MR. CECIL, TO MRS. CECIL. LETTER I. MY DEAREST LOVE — Bath—1792. — I am settled in comfortable lodgings, and not worse than when I wrote last ; but I find I must endeavour to keep business from my mind, particularly that of which has already filled me with anxiety ; but I shall endeavour to believe, rest, and pray it away. I know God will do best : but still I cannot divest myself of my feelings, which will take some years from my life. I thank you, my Jewel, for your kindest letter. I had hardly time to read it, because the post goes so early from Bath, and scarcely gives me time to write : but I shall read it several times over ; and I hope profit by what you have written, and which I have read with many tears. If I find difficulties arise about the waters I shall consult Dr. Frazer : for I do not mean to do things by halves. It has cost me something more than money to come hither ; and I would have all the benefit. There is not any thing under the sky I could so well spare as company just now. I am not able to bear any. There is no- body on earth, in my present circumstances, who would not be a burden to me — except yourself. Travelling, no doubt, would be of use to my health ; and I could very pleasantly rove about the country for a time, had I one person, now in London, 96 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. with me But I must not continue this strain, though I could fill a sheet or two with such things very spontaneously : for I assure you 'tis not difficult to me to write love letters to you; But I think, on many accounts, it is better to know such things exist, and offer themselves without force, than to let them run till nobody knows where they may stop. Ah ! my precious Jewel, wives and husbands wont do alone. Let us rightly understand the difference between passion and substance; but substance is not here! " He builds too low, who builds below the skies !" Farewell ! and believe me, notwithstanding these truths, to be Yours most affectionately, R. C. LETTER II. Bath— 1792. I SAID just now, to a young Clergyman who boards in the house, " Ah ! Mr. I am going to enjoy a satisfaction you are sadly deprived of— I am going to write to my wife" — I preached some time ago a sermon at St. John's which I am now forced to recollect for myself — / will bring her into the wilderness. I am now clearly under a peculiar dispensation — like what I then described the wilderness to be. So painful has my stomach been of late, that I thought it my duty to go under the care of Dr. Frazer. He has put me into the bath, and directed the hot-pump to be applied to the pit of my stomach, Which is the only thing 1 have found of service yet. But this is also a spiritual case, which no man can understand for me, but which I think I understand. I am going down the valley of humiliation, where the Christian's feet are apt to stumble : but I have not lost my way. I know where i am; and I know God is with me. So the valley is not so dark as it might be. I could fill twenty letters with reflections like these, but I fear lest I should hurt your feelings by them ; and, there- fore, I will stop. LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 97 I told Dr. F. my history — how I lived — studied — preached— my anxieties — incessant thoughtfulness, &c. In short, that he might not be deceived and thereby mislead me, I gave him the most faithful account of myself. He has however DEEPLY convinced me, that I must lead another life in future ; which, on every account, I find it my bounden duty to do, if it please God to recover me, for I do not expect many more warnings. Moreover, I am so sincere (at least under my burden) that I do hereby empower you to watch over me, and to keep me to my most decided and determined principles : for if I recover here, I am persuaded if I do not alter many things, I shall soon be as bad, and probably worse than ever. My Dearest Creature, I ought to say MANY KIND THINGS TO you ; but my spirits are too weak and low now, to say any- thing that is not very general. Be assured, however, that you are almost the only temporal subject I think of (though I think of that very often.) Worldly matters I have thought very little of indeed: which I esteem a mercy, mixed with my difficulties. I mean to strive very much to keep them more out of my mind, on my return, than I have done — and take you more into their place. The arrangements you are making, you will find difficult : moreover I am afraid you will hurt yourself in this affair, and then what good will my room do me? At any rate, you must not attempt it yourself. It does not signify : nothing of the sort signifies. I have no prospect of going round by on my return. All undertakings to a sick man are dreadful in contemplation. At present, my highest EARTHLY project and prospect, is to sit quietly down with you in some little country retirement: and yet I know so much of myself, that take away my present pain and weakness, and my old spirit would return ; and I should be driving after my point as usual. But now — it is quiet — ease—- and my wife! If I do not gain wisdom by this business, the fool has been brayed in a mortar, but it is clear nothing will drive his foolish- ness from him. t H 98 LETTERS FRO&J MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. While I am so poorly, and in this tender state, I shall write to you every day, because I should expect it of you, and it will be a satisfaction to you ; but then I cannot undertake to write so long a letter as this is, which I began for my own satisfaction as well as yours. I set out with saying that I am in a wilderness ; but it is said in the passage, / will speak comfortably to her, and give her vineyards from thence. Now you must join with me in praying that this may be my case. I cannot question your af- fection for me ; but this will be the best way of shewing it. I shall not forget you when I call upon my best feiend ; who has often heard me for you, in your trying hours. Oh, that we both might unite with one heart in that high and heavenly pur- suit ; and thereby soon meet the end of pain, sickness, and sorrow. But now, if my paper did not, my feelings would put an end to this letter. LETTER III. MY DEAEEST LOVE — I should have written to you before, but for the accidental time of our arriving at different places after the post was gone, which made it next to impossible. Not that I have anything to write about, being a mere traveller, without a new idea : as it would be no new idea to say I am with very kind and pleasant friends, and that it has been fine weather, &c. The first and second night are generally a time of melancholy with me, after I leave home — and so it has been now. I am sick of the hurry ; and see every thing in so futile a point of view, that I turn In- dian, and think there is no wisdom but in quiet, and no place eligible but home. Nevertheless I have found prodigious advan- tage already from the journey. After being so much alone in the ordinary course of my life, and in the element of RE flection, I can scarcely support a behaviour suited to continual society. I have been this morning LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 99 so reserved at breakfast and before, that I was forced to make a declaration in my own defence, that I had not met a single un- pleasant circumstance since I came out. I felt an unusual desire of solitude, and therefore behaved awkwardly silent ; which, in general, is an unpleasant, and has a suspicious appearance. I mention this, that you may the better understand the nature of this part of my character, and which is certainly growing upon me, but which has in it not a single grain of dissatisfaction ; but is rather the nest, which a thinking melancholy mind will natu- rally be forming for its repose — We yesterday saw Battle Abbey — a wonderful scene, for situa- tion and fine antiquity ! I have not met hitherto with anything equal to it. We climbed last night a vast hill to examine the ruins of an old castle; and to-day I feel quite satisfied. I want to see no more sea — hills — fields — abbeys— or cas- tles ! I feel vanity pervading every thing — but eternity and its concerns ! and perceive these things to be suited to chil- dren very little older than my own. Before I go to — — I am in full determination, so far as I perceive it to be the will of God, not to return back thither the next Sunday. I have accordingly prevailed with my friends to leave me on Monday, that I may devote the whole day to affording spiritual assistance to such as will receive it : and then, on Tuesday, I hope to see Lady . ; and, on the Saturday following, your dear self. You remember my value and admiration of my beautiful silver pencil given me by and this morning, according to very old experience, I felt the little idol thrown down. I sup- pose I lost it on the hills. I hope the next I have made will be a bungling job, and then I shall keep it. Let us remember our children are pencils ! But it is time to stop. There is indeed, something very mean in the spirit's ever exhausting itself about the case which contains it : and, though particulars of this sort are of interesting magni- tude to a wife, they are insipid and unworthy to others. I could have wished, however, to shew you a few scenes I have passed, which would have been pleasant varieties for the moment, H 2 100 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. and which could you have seen them would have given me dou- ble pleasure ; — but no matter — they are vanity — While I remain, with an affection that is not vain, Your's, R. C. LETTER IV. MY DEAREST LOVE— Little James Street. I AM just come home; and, having rested a little, it somehow or other came into my head, that 1 would sit down and write you a letter: not about nothing, as you proposed ; but about some- thing, even your very great kindness to me in my late illness. I am, indeed, not very apt to express my feelings, but I have them very keen, both to good and evil ; and the last to a great fault, for which I desire to humble myself very low before God, and very sincerely before you and all I know. But alloy belongs to human excellence: even the great generosity of your temper, and the exquisite tenderness of your affectionate feel- ings, therefore, sometimes suffer an eclipse, that should very transiently appear in this letter. In this respect, I will write a letter about nothing. I think I cannot see you before Sunday, without deranging my affairs; and therefore particularly request you and the children may be in town on Saturday morning. Though I miss your pre- sent society, which is always so pleasant to me; yet I rejoice that I part with it so much to the advantage of your health and spirits. LETTER V. my dear love- As I told you I should write but once a week, I don't know whe- ther you expect a letter so soon ; but I always wish to be better than your expectation. LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 101 You know I am a very bad out-of-doors man : and therefore have always wanted to come back the first day ; and, after that, counted the number of days till I expect to return. It is exactly so now : for, though I have had fine weather, and nothing un- pleasant has occurred, and I have spent this day in new and most pleasant company, and we have been seeing fine sights: yet I tell you my dispensation is so far from being at an end, that I still view every thing under a melancholy aspect, and read nothing but a sentence of death written on every thing, because deeply impressed on my mind. But nobody here, I am sure, discovers it: yet I feel it some relief to say it to you. This sentence of death, I am compelled to say, works well. It works with me, as the Apostle tells us it did with him — That we should not trust in ourselves, but in God. I perceive clearly, that the refiner sits watching his gold during the process, and makes the fire merely purifying. I am only sorry, that, while I see no end to this process, I should so much wish to see the end. I do not yet take pleasure in infirmities and distresses, as St. Paul did ; but I am trying to learn. It was with much difficulty we reached here on Tuesday. A t Royston we heard of a curious Cave, which we stopped to see. It was made by a pious Lady, several hundred years ago ; who thought, like a pious friend of ours, that it was better to shut herself up in a hole than enjoy the fresh air. She therefore got down by a long ladder into this subterraneous Chapel ; and, with her own hands, has carved the walls all round into saints, cruci- fixes, and scripture histories, and was buried in the midst of them. Tell brother , whom you will see in a few days, I have read the letter. It is a flagrant attack, that has been made upon him ; it will disturb him— but labour, want, and pain are the beaten roads to greatness. The Lord said to Abraham, Get out — get out, to a land that I will shew thee! I have been much with Mr. . He is a very extraordinary man — for sense, learning, and piety. He talks away upon the immense satisfaction, which a pleasant wife affords her husband ; 102 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. and undertook to say to-day, that I should not hesitate a moment to give up a kingdom to retain mine. Now a kingdom is so poor a thing, that I think he might be right— but what would it have been, have he said a pine-apple? Thursday morning 1 thought it best to leave off last night, when a vein of nonsense was opened; and therefore begin again this morning to add a line before we set off. I have had a good night, and now feel willing to go on. This shews how things are to us, as we are in ourselves. I have been thinking of many ex- pressions of Rutherford's this morning, before I was up. I feel one the burden of the song — " I lay my head to rest on the bo* som of Omnipotence !" While I can keep hold of this, it shall be a fine day, whether it rains, hails, or shines LETTER VI. MY DEAR LOVE — I really cannot believe I am under a moral obligation to write on Wednesday, that you may read on Thursday, when I hope to see you on Friday. But, please to remember that this is among many other things, which I have done ; not according to mine, but according to your opinion and desire. I say — set this down as one among others, that I may not so much stand in the book as a debtor but creditor. I got down better than I expected, though not well. I have been to see your sister, who is very thankful that the Gospel is likely to meet her so advantageously in the Church. Indeed I hope it will be highly beneficial to many. Tell my little daughter I have given her a great character, which she must strive to maintain. Also tell her MAMMA, that I have been describing the lamentable state of idolatry in her heart— old idols — new idols — and which there is now every opportunity of enjoying while I am away to make room. But, while I am away and make room, and leave more leisure, I pray LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 103 that you may be able to improve it by praying for yourself and for me. Time is short, and every real and imaginary idol will soon be taken away; and then let us seriously consider what will be left: or, as the Prophet asks, What will ye do in the end thereof? LETTER VII. MY DEAREST LOVE — Though you have two letters of mine unanswered, and though I have nothing to say, yet I will take a few moments, which ought to be embraced for recollection, to write to you. So that you will do well to recollect, that this letter comes neither from a sense of duty, nor a matter of business — but from a pure desire of pleasing you : and you will recollect, that I would rather preach two Sermons, than write one letter. And now what shall I say ?— I think what I began with is the best subject — recollection. Martha— Martha — thou art careful and troubled about many things; but one thing is needful; and that one, needful as it is, will be forgotten, if we do not set aside a portion of our time for the purpose. I feel that all I know and all I teach, will do nothing for my own soul, if I spend my time, as most people do, in business or company — even the best company. My soul starves to death in the best company; and God is often lost in prayers and ordinances. Enter into thy chamber, said he, and shut thy door about thee! Some words in Scripture are very emphatical. Shut thy door means much : it means — shut out, not only non- sense, but business — not only the company abroad, but the company at home : It means — let thy poor soul have a little rest and refreshment ; and God have opportunity to speak to thee in a small still voice, or he will speak in thunder. You and I, my Love, ought to understand this, who have heard the loud voice so often, in so many ways. I am persuaded the Lord would have spoken more softly, if we would have 104 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. shut the door: nor do I believe the children would have fallen into the fire nor out of the window, in the mean time. Let us, I say, think of this : for who can tell what the next loud call may say 1 It has called for our children already, and it may next call for us. But I will not press this subject, for I recollect your spirits are weak. However, go into thy chamber, and shut the door— and pray for me, that, after I have preached so often to this people, I may not be left to undo in private, what I am labouring to do in public. Be sure, while 1 ask you never to forget me in your prayers, that you are never forgotten in mine — such as they are (and which I often fear are more calculated to affront God than please him:) but pray I must, and I know that I do not pray in vain, nor can you LETTER VIII. MY DEAR LOVE— I know you will be most happy to hear that my health keeps improving. You know I am subject, at the best (especially after studying hard) to feel sinkings and distressing depressions, that are quite foreign to my natural animation : but I know nothing of them, since I have been out of town. This is a complete argument, that I am better for coming. This help to my spirits is also increased, by the satisfaction I have in my mind, at all times, that it was the will of God I should come This a beautiful place, and has fine air: but as for study, which I promised myself in so still a place and with such a good library, it is impossible. My determinations are as strong as most men's, as you know: and, if I lived constantly here, I would put them in full execution, whatever was the consequence; but, for a sojourner of two or three weeks, he has but one part or project, and that is to be packing up, and getting off as fast as he can for his poor soul's sake. LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 105 Every thing I see every where tends to prove and fix me in my religious views and principles. I see but one difficulty, and that is to determine whether careless men are more fools or madmen. Verily, that, tvhich is done, says the Psalmist, on earth, God doth it himself: and, verily, that, which he doth, he doth by the Gospel; for where it is not in influence, there is nothing but tearing up the bowels of the earth to cast in the face of heaven. Collieries and Founderies, with the tremendous blasts which they force into them day and night, resemble nothing but Hell ; and the men in every respect suit the place, which at night makes the country seem on fire for miles round. The horrid yells they make when an operation takes place, joined to the roaring of the flames and engines, is up to any thing in poetry or imagination ; and, therefore, as you must understand, met my mind and detained my attention, when the Ladies and some of the Gentle- men were glad to retire. But the worst is, in these scenes and in the chambers of the most delicate work, all— all is wickedness — boys and girls — men and women, mixed and half-naked — corrupt and corrupting. This is a moral stench, as well as a natural one ; and I have lived to deplore a great manufactory on many solid grounds. Yet have I plainly discovered some dirty greasy angels — men whose black faces beam with heavenly light. Had I seen these assume wings, and become white as snow, and mount toward heaven, I should not have felt that half so great an act of power had been put forth. The Lord clothe you with his Divine Power! I will pray earnestly for you : but remember it is our joint work ; and it shall prevail, till we shall need to pray no more, and I no more remain your affectionate Husband, but your fellow-Heir, and Brother, in everlasting life. R.C. LETTER IX. MY DEAR LOVE — Pleasing is a nice art: it requires nice pencilling: daubing wont do. Shade after shade — neither one thing nor another, lOfj LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. but every thing makes a picture. A man must neither be contented, when his wife is absent, nor discontented. His family must be in peace, that his wife may be happy : but she is very unhappy, if it is ! Woe betide her, if her servants are well and peaceable, and her children well and asleep — Husband contented with his lot, &c. &c. ! Unfortunately for you, this is the case, and you are much to be pitied — but let this be your consolation, that there are unhappier women on earth. To be serious — what I wrote respecting our quietism was to make you quiet, happy, and satisfied : it was to make you enjoy better your present moment. We are not so well without you as you seem to think. I can assure you that whatever be the case of servants — or children, who are too young to distinguish between their right hand and left, and to whom friends and enemies are the same — I can assure you, with the greatest truth, that, with you, I have often wished to share some of my most pleasant moments— and that ought to suffice a wife. LETTER X. MY DEAR LOVE — I don't know if there is not something absurd, in my writing you a letter, which perhaps you will not receive many hours before I should see you myself: but, as I did not write, as I intended, on Friday, I thought you might be uneasy if the post did not deliver one on Monday. I have rode 66 miles to-day ; and am too much tired for any company except yours; for that would contribute, at this moment, to my rest, as well as pleasure. Indeed you have become too necessary to me, and sometimes occupy my mind in too vivid a degree ; and perhaps it is ex- pedient that this should be abated, and ought to be Well — I have said this, to let you see I am capable of meeting your ideas, more than (from the interference of clogs and impedi- ments) some are ready to suppose. However, affliction has made me, under divine influence, a much softer creature than hereto- fore ; and I think others will perceive it, as well as you. LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 107 I am sensibly alive to your regard and affection toward me, which has been only too great ; and demands a return, which the quantity of bone put into my frame is too apt to prevent me from properly making : this must be my excuse to my sweet wife when I grieve her. The subject of self-denial has much occupied my mind of late. It is a matter that cannot be too often considered, that real happiness, health, order, peace, and beauty depend on self- denial. If nature, in its wild state and wishes and indulgent sensualities, is to be humoured, a dose of poison is brewing — a scourge for the fool's back is preparing — like drunkards, who sit down in good humour to tipple, but soon proceed to black eyes. " No man e'er found a happy life by chance, Or yawn'd it into being with a wish." Even the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent only take it by force. So that perfect peace must be won by perpetual war — and the health of the spirit by the death of the flesh. There are, indeed, some who pretend to have discovered a cheaper way of obtaining these things ; but I never yet met with one who could show his bargain : so that I have fresh evidence of my old maxim — That religion will cost us some- thing, but the want of it infinitely more. I say, however, these things, as much to call my own mind to recollection as yours. And we cannot assist one another too much in this way LETTER XI. MY DEAREST LOVE — Little James Street. We are all led more by our feelings than our judgments, and sometimes even than our duty : and therefore I gratify mine in writing to you, when I should be otherwise employed ; and, even though I think it probable I shall deliver the letter myself to- morrow morning— but I have suffered much last night on your account, or rather on my own. Dr. U. said some things last 108 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. night on the danger of such complaints as yours ; and, though it was but general conversation, I began to make something out of it. You know what the cruel ingenuity of the imagination is, so that I lay awake last night; or, I may say, stood on a precipice from which I did not dare to look down, and from which, like a man fixed by enchantment, I could not remove. You must know how fondly we imagine, that, if we were present with a sick friend, they would, somehow or other, be in less danger. This is constantly my feeling, for my anxiety abates when I see you ; especially since you seemed to go forward. I have always felt, that, if I could see my children taken to Abraham's bosom — then I should wish you not so much to call it their death as their escape — and comfort myself; but I do not feel this respecting you. I am too much interested : and always recur to the consideration " What must J do ? Whither must / go ? "—and this thought so much affects me, that, con- sidering I ought to prepare for public service, I ought not to write nor think any more at present on the subject. LETTER XII. MY DEAREST LOVE — In all things that respect your present journey, your health is to be first considered, and then your pleasure. I shall again say, let not my desire to see you prevent your enjoying either to the utmost of your wish or judgment: but, when I say this, do not suppose I therefore am unconcerned whether you come home or no. I have never had such a feeling for a moment since you left me ; and I pray God nothing may ever arise to cause it to exist, for any unhappy interval, however short. Come home whenever you see it proper: and, if I can give you another journey with myself this year, I will. You may depend upon it I shall be doubly watchful over the children, and be very faithful to my promise to tell you truly the state of affairs. Your kttle daughter goes to Church three times a dav, much LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 109 in the spirit of too many of my hearers. She, however, behaves very well. I suppose you must be weary, by this time, of looking on the sea. Endeavour, therefore, to turn your eyes to a greater ocean, and «' Walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore, Of that vast Ocean you must sail so soon ! " I am highly gratified in hearing from you ; but should rather you would come than send. The workmen will have finished very soon, and all things be ready for your reception. While my house is setting in order, I cannot look on any part without thinking of what must folloAV, and may very soon — Thou shalt die, and not live. The great Mr. Howe has written a long and fine discourse on " the Vanity of Man :" should we think this necessary ? Nor would it be so, were men sober; but means must be used to convince drunken men, that they are not only drunken but dying men. Pray make use of your present leisure for winding up your minds in spirituals. Every thing else (that is not necessary for the pilgrimage) is worse than folly. It is one grand advantage in death, that we shall get clear of these rocks and sands for ever. In the mean time, there is ONE rock here, upon which a man may stand and smile. The Lord bless you, ray Dear Creature, and hira, with you, who remains, &c. &c. LETTER XIII. You cannot think how much I felt in leaving you in that solitary place, so like exile ; and though I wish you to stay as long as you feel it necessary for the child, yet I shall be glad to hear that you feel it no longer so. The children are quite well, and our little son has quite forgotten you and me and the whole world, by reason of a new hoop which he trundles without ceas- ing. It would be well if new trifles and old ones were confined to children of his age. 1 10 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. I got well soon after I got home : but it was not an unprofitable journey to me ; for I had time at Crysal to wind up by reflec- tion. — Life is hurried through in business, and I cannot abstract enough for my soul's health. I advise you when your attention to the child can be remitted, to use your solitude for the same purpose. The painters finish to morrow. I never think of repairing the house we have, but it occurs that we are but covering our coffin, or making a place to die iu. Before we shall need another painting, we shall both be of darker hue than the walls we leave. But, perhaps, this is too gloomy a strain to be continued ; and, therefore, let me rather say we shall have left a poor clay tene- ment, too old to repair, for a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. In short, despair and hope are the fundamentals of Christi- anity — that is, to despair of keeping or repairing that which must fall, and to hope for that which will satisfy and NEVER FAIL. ■ LETTER XIV. 1 said to myself, last Thursday, when an insect flew between us, and left a slight sting — I said, " I know when I have rode five miles from town the sting will be gone, and nothing but honey remain:" and so it was; and therefore, my Dear Crea- ture, make yourself quite happy respecting me. I am as well as when I left town, and have every reason to believe I shall return to town better than I expected. We shall travel slowly. Mrs. - is pretty well. We rode together very pleasantly, as you may suppose : but clouds threatened the horseman ; and, there- fore, while the christian conversed very excellently on divine things, I often observed the woman anxious about her husband and child. Several new sights and objects make me daily wish you were with me ; for you have eyes, and I could shew you what you would enjoy. Yet, after all, beautiful scenes and LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO MRS. CECIL. 1 1 1 beautiful pictures are all trifles that will not last long. Nothing will last, but what is intelligent. The finest mutes upon earth soon become nothing: they are a body, but a dead one: they want that, which is the soul of every thing — intelli- gence; and the soul of intelligence is religion. I have made many observations about travelling, which you will one day hear. You ought to be satisfied, that I let YOU into all things in the " closet" that respect myself. I thank you for your kind letter. I mean to preserve it, and to pray that you may be long preserved to me ; for you do not tremble at the idea of losing me, more than I do in return. LETTER XV. MY DEAR LOVE— I just scribble a line to say that I am going on in my journey very well. I have also considerable advantage in travelling with a man — for a tender, feeble Lady could not labour so much. I make him read out aloud in the chaise, which he also feels an advantage : so that I travel with Pascal — Adam — Maclaurin — and the Bible. Now I say a lady could not afford this. But, with all these advantages, I am ready to acknowledge, that the want of your company makes a terrible void. How many tender things have I lost! — with, now and then, a good thing, i. e. a bit of oratory, a scrap of literature, a shred of poetry, and a cup of peculiarities. Some of these peculiars do not so well please alone ; but, when mixed up, they are not unpleasing to my taste. I assure you I often think of you in the mass as a character, (and a character you certainly are) that I am delighted with. For, as in a piece of music which we excessively admire, there are, now and then, some grunting minors ; yet, these, mixed up with sweet returning concords, add greatly to the harmony upon the whole. But don't, from what I say here, put in any more minors than usual — as a little goes a great way ! But now I am so angry at the strain of my mind, that I will 112 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. write no more. I am quite surprised at myself to reflect (though I have known myself many years too) that, with a weighty con- cern on my miud, and upon which my heart has sent up many requests, I should be so sportive and gay. But it is my very na- ture to be gay, as it is some others to be gloomy; and it brings me into many a snare — and I can only say — The Lord pardon thy servant in this thing ! LETTERS MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. LETTER I. MY DEAR BOY — X was much pleased with your letter to your sister ; and indeed it gave great satisfaction to all our family, particularly to your Mamma. We rejoice to see you speak so like a man, and to find that you so rightly estimate the value of your situation at school. For you are now a bee in a garden : nor can you possibly con- ceive what advantage you will reap from what you now gather ; for though this is not the whole of what you are to learn, it is so essential a part that it will add power and lustre to the rest. I have been turning over a great number of books at different shops, to find one to send to you, but I never met with more disappointment. I wish you to attend to a correct habit of writing. LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 113 Thus far respecting literature : but, let me again and again re- mind you, that, great as that is, both that and every thing else are but dung and dross to the excellency of the knowledge of Christ. Upon that, all for time and eternity hangs ! Pray there- fore, my Dear Child, to the Holy Spirit, to give you this life and light in your heart. I have sent you a sermon I have published to the children of St. John's — I wish you to read it carefully LETTER II. MY DEAR ISRAEL — Feb. 1802. Your Mama received your letter at the time I was at She is greatly satisfied that you so tenderly remember what I said to you. The truth is, my Dear, that your mind is greatly improved, and we cannot but notice it and rejoice in it ; and you may depend upon it we shall not fail to encourage a right dispo- sition, to the utmost of our power. Your attention to me, par- ticularly, has been marked by every one in the family, as well as myself. There is a point you should never lose sight of— that, when a youth takes ill courses, he begins to be shy of his parents, that is, of his only true and fast friends: he secretly forms connections with broken, if not dangerous reeds ; and often plunges thereby into difficulties and disappointments, that his real friends cannot help him out of. I am rejoiced to see you take the contrary course. I marked that wise and dutiful confidence, with which you treated me; and that jealousy you had, as to how you stood in my mind. Watch against any thing which may damp and impede this early friendship with your truest friend, and you will prosper. Our family and friends are well, except , who is daily getting worse; but then what is that to her? — She has fought the good fight; and is only waiting a little longer for her crown of glory. — t I 114 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. See what a blessed thing it is, to be ready to meet what we all must meet. A king is a beggar, compared to a Christian. Present my kindest regards to Mr. ■ — — . Be careful to keep up your character with that excellent man and friend. Be also assured that I remain, Your very affectionate Father, R. C. LETTER III. MY DEAR BOY — Nothing can lie nearer my heart than your welfare; and no- thing rejoices me so much as to observe your mind take a solid turn, and think of the things that belong to your peace. I hope you have recovered from your childish habits, and are joining in my design of building yourself up for life. N I shall re- joice to assist you, but I cannot do it if you do not work at school, and serve yourself LETTER IV. MY DEAR ISRAEL — We received your letter; and should have sent you word, had you not written, about coming home. You know I am very particular about keeping time ; and have always seen proper to oppose that vagrant custom of leaving school before it is ended, or going after it begins. But there are some cases which make it as proper to break a general rule of expedience, as at other times to keep it ; and, therefore, as I wish to see you before I set out on my journey to I wish Mr. to permit you to come home on the 13th. I hope you will be careful to conduct yourself with great indus- try and propriety, while you are at school. Never complain that LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 1 1 5 your employment is arduous ; since I have observed that constant employment, not only stretches the powers, but that, next to the grace of God, it is the best prevention of vice. Beg of God to give you his blessing, and depend upon my prayers meeting yours, Who remain, dc. LETTER V. MY DEAR ISRAEL — I was glad to hear from you, though no particular business oc- curred ; especially as you could send me an account of your being trusted with the care of others. You may see yourself, what I could not help remarking, that, as people rise in character, every body owns it. A little while ago you were so boyish, that I could not trust you to yourself at but was forced to limit you to the view of my window. Now you can be trusted with the care of others ; and from a bad rank-aivd-file, have become a captain. May you go forward, my Dear Child, in the best progress, till you become an Israel indeed, that is a Prince prevailing with God. I must just mention here, that it must give me always great pleasure to afford you any gratification that is not inconsistent with my plan and views ; and, though I am obliged to object to your proposal of going to yet my reasons are strong ; and I know that the credit you will give me for their being solid will satisfy you. Both your Mama and myself were much gratified with your dutiful and just remarks on your past life. Indeed, most of us must reflect in the same way, when we reflect justly. But you are young, and I hope and pray that you may begin early to turn away from sin and vanity to the living God — then, of course, you will be closely united to us in this and a better world. The moment this divine principle, which we call grace, be- gins to work like leaven in the mass, it will refine aud exalt, till I 2 1 1 6 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. the subject rises, not only above his fellows, but above himself. He climbs an eminence, and sees a prospect which sublimes his character; or as the Scriptures express it, it grows night and day , though a man knoweth not how, nor to what he is advancing. There are some surprising instances of it already in this dark and long neglected place. More, I trust, will be added ; and, whenever one appears, it is evidently the Lord's doing, and mar- vellous in the discerning eye. Your Mama and Sisters unite in love — God bless you, my Dear. Forget not to pray to Him for his grace, in which I will join you, Who remain Your very affectionate Father. LETTER VI. MY DEAR CHILD — Whether you hear from us soon or late, you may always de- pend upon it you are not forgotten or neglected by us. You have given us additional reasons for wishing to communicate with you; and I assure you that both your Mama and myself think and speak of you with great satisfaction at all times. You see, my Dear, the happiness that always attends right conduct; and, as you live, you will see this more and more. Now, my Dear, let us find that you are making a progress in well doing — that you are daily cultivating Mr. 's good opinion. You have this encouragement to attempt it, not only that you will be sure to succeed, if you really try ; but, also, that the good opinion of so worthy and pious a man will always be an honour to you. Above all, my Dear, let it never be off your mind, that the blessing of the Lord, only maketh truly rich. His good will is happiness in this world, and in that which is to come. Seek, and you shall find — knock, and it shall be opened. If all the world were your friends and He NOT, you must be a miserable wretch, LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 117 now and eternally. Therefore seek the Lord while he may be found: call upon him, while he is near. Your Mama will write soon. In the mean time, she prays that God may bless and pre- serve you, in which I heartily join, who Remain, &c. &c. LETTER VII. MY DEAR CHILD — I received your two epistles, which prove you are very impor- tant or very importunate. Know, also, that if I wrote the latter END of this week instead of the beginning, it would be in full time to settle whether you should come home a day sooner or later than usual. I humbly conceive, therefore, there lias been no delay; though much business has pressed on my part. I should also remind you, that you should never depart from school, in that idle and slabbering manner, in which some scho- lars, (I mean blockheads) are permitted to do, who think of run- ning from the post of honour and improvement to a Christmas fire and plumb-pudding; but that, instead of this, you should stand the last at your post — or, like an intelligent traveller on a mountain, catch the last glimpse of the prospect, and slightest beam of the parting day. Then, on the sun of science setting, you retire to your friends at home: who, in such circumstances, must hail your ap- proach. May you thus finish this stage of your life with reputa- tion, and continue to bring comfort to your Parents and respect and happiness to yourself! LETTER VIII. MY DEAR CHILD — I have been thinking about the occasion of your letter; but I cannot advise you to be confirmed, before you have a more seri- ous sense of religion than I have yet perceived in you. 1 1 8 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. The mere form of a spiritual benefit received or declaration made, cannot profit before a serious intention takes place in the mind. I hope and pray that this may take place before the next Confirmation ; but I have not seen sufficient evidence of it in you yet. Still if Mr. has observed anything of the kind, and there- fore advises you to go with the rest, I shall be satisfied : and I shall leave it to stand thus. But what concerns you more than the being confirmed at this time, is, that your heart should be impressed with the vow you have to take upon yourself therein. Do you, indeed, mean to " renounce the pomps and vanities of this wicked world — the sinful lusts of the flesh" — and the tyranny of Satan? And yet, whether you are outwardly confirmed or not, if you do not in your heart renounce these, you may die young, and must lie un- der the punishment of the wicked for ever. Pray, therefore, my Dear Child, to God, that he would, for Christ's sake, keep you, and deliver you. Oh, that his grace may reach your heart — that you may be ready to meet death whenever it comes ! This, my Dear, is the great secret and discovery. Then it is that a man can properly say, "I have found it! I have found it!"— when we can look forward and consider death as our gain. But, till we attain this by faith in Christ, all we can look at, whether in this world or the next, is loss, guilt, and fear. God bless you, my Dear ; and breathe by his Spirit into your heart, till you come out another witness in my family that God is with us LETTER IX. MY DEAR ISRAEL— Since I saw you, I did as I promised — i. e. made what inquiries I could for your future establishment. And a gentleman in Gray's Inn, whom you know not, who has been one of my hearers many years, has promised me to take you in the Term following your return from school. In the mean time, it will be necessary for you to work with all LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. 119 your might ; for I should not chuse you to leave school till you were a better Latinist. I would have you leave Greek intirely, and attend to Cicero. I wish you to be able to read a Latin Author l-eadily. Your brother Jesaiah and yourself are graciously provided for, as to a favourable and respectable entrance on the present world; but, even that needs care and industry to pi-ove successful. But, after all is done, and however you may succeed, it is but for a moment; and an ETERNITY of joy unspeakable, or of sorrow unutterable must follow: may God impress this consideration deeply on both your hearts ! Your Mama heartily joins in wishing you every blessing, with, my Dear Child, Your affectionate Father, Nov. 1305. R- C. LETTER X. MY DEAR ISRAEL — You have sent to me and to your Mama letters which we can- not but approve ; and which must give us pleasure, as specimens of a right mind. I am glad you feel your situation at , during our absence from home, so pleasant; and I am only anxi- ous lest you should forget, at certain moments, your own views of propriety, and the necessity of preserving a character. For human nature is prone to err : it not only needs our own inces- sant attention to keep it ex-ect; but we need the help of a friend's eye, even to know when we err. I have no doubt of your resolution to be right : but you must watch ; and that particularly against the following mistakes — loquacity — sanguine admirations and censures — incorrect hours — assuming sentiments — and a loud and boisterous manner of talking. All these are so remote from the modest behaviour of a young man of real merit, that he might ruin himself by them, though as upright and well meaning as possible. Now I am 120 LETTERS FROM MR. CECIL TO HIS SON ISRAEL. thankful you have so bright an example in the contrary respects in Miss M. You cannot do better than study her manners as well as her piety. Desire her earnestly to point out to you where you break down ; and depend upon it, you must throw in a good deal to make weight and arrive at the real quantum, on account of her delicacy. There is another thing I wish to warn you of, which is of great importance to you — I mean the danger of letting yourself down. You have written a hymn, which has brought you re- putation : all this is well, and this has procured you reputation beyond your ability to keep up without much care and caution. If, however, on the contrary, you scribble at random, and throw about your crudities, you wiil sink your reputation. A pike, says iEsop, made some successful attempts in the river, which emboldened him to venture into the sea, where he was at once gobbled up. I have pointed out the danger — now for the remedy. It is both simple and safe. Let nothing go from under your pen, but what passes under my eye. Beware of saying " It is but a little thing. None but fools have little things, which touch their characters. Wise men know that a small leak will sink a large ship. Let me, therefore, enjoin it upon you, to write nothing before I see you. 1803. VIEW OF THE CHARACTER REV. RICHARD CECIL. M, .RS. CECIL has so well availed herself of the advantages afforded by her near relation to our departed friend, in depicting his more domestic feelings and habits, that I shall limit my view of him to his personal and ministerial character. In doing this, while I shall communicate occasionally the impres- sions made by him on my own mind, most of which were re- corded at the time they were made, I shall endeavour to render him as much as possible, the pourtrayer of his own character, by detailing those descriptions of his views and feelings which I gathered from him. Nature, education, and grace combine to form and model the PERSONAL CHARACTER of every Christian. God gives to his reasonable creature such physical and intellectual constitution as he pleases : education and circumstances hide or unfold, restrain or mature this constitution : and grace, while it regulates and sanctifies the powers of the man, varies its own appearances according to the varieties of those powers. And it is by the endless modifications and counteractions of these prin- ciples that the Personal Character of a Christian is formed. It might have been expected from Mr. Cecil's earliest displays of character, that he was formed to be an instrument of extensive 122 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. evil or of eminent good. There was a decision — a daring — an UNTAMeableness in the structure of his mind even when a boy, combined with a tone of authority and command and a talent in the exercise of these qualities, to which the minds of his associates yielded an implicit subjection. Fear of conse- quences never entered into his view. Opposition, especially if accompanied by anything like severity or oppression, awakened unrelenting resistance. Yet this bold and untameable spirit was allied to a noble and generous disposition. There was a magnificence in his mind. While he was scrupulously delicate, perhaps even to some excess, on subjects entrusted to his secrecy, and on affairs in progress : yet he would never lend himself in his own concerns, or in those of other persons, to anything that bordered on artifice and ma- noeuvre: for he had a native and thorough contempt of whatever was mean, little, and equivocating. That " honesty is the best policy" may be a strong or the prevailing motive for uprightness with men of a lower tone of character, but I question if it at all entered into calculation with my great friend. His mind was too noble, to have recourse to other means or to aim at other ends, than those which he avowed; and too intrepid not to avow those which he did entertain, so far as might be required or expedient. His temptations were to the sins of the spirit, rather than those of the flesh : and he possessed, all his life long a superiority to the pleasures of mere sense not often seen. He was, indeed, temperate in all things — holding his bodily appetites in entire subjection. Sympathy with suffering was an eminent characteristic of Mr. Cecil's miud — a sympathy which sprung less from that softness and sensibility which are the ornament of the female, than from the generosity of his disposition. He would have had all men happy. It gratified his generous nature to ease the bm - - dens of suffering man. If any were afflicted by the visitations of God, he taught them to bow with submission while he pitied and relieved: if the affliction were the natural and evident fruit of crimes, he admonished while he sympathized : if the sufferings PERSONAL. 123 of man or brute arose from the voluntary inflictions of others, he was indignant against the oppressor. Such was the intrepid and noble, yet humane mind, which was trained by Divine Grace, under a long course of moral disci- pline, for eminent usefulness in the Church of God. Mr. Cecil's intellectual endowments will be spoken of hereafter. At present, I shall trace the rise and the advances of his Christian Character. He had, as Mrs. Cecil has stated, early religious impressions. These were first received from Janeway's " Token for Children," which his mother gave him when he was about six years of age. " I was much affected by this book," said he, and recollect that I wept, and got into a corner where I prayed that I also might have • an interest in Christ,' like one of the children there men- tioned, though I did not then know what the expression meant." These impressions of his childhood wore away. He fell into the follies and vices of youth ; and, by degrees, began to listen to infidel principles, till he avowed himself openly an unbeliever. He has alluded frequently in his writings to this criminal part of his history, and Mrs. Cecil has touched on the subject ; but I shall add some paragraphs on this point partly in his own words. He was suffered to proceed to awful lengths in infidelity. The natural daring of his mind allowed him to do nothing by halves. Into whatever society he enlisted himself he was its leader. He became even an Apostle of Infidelity — anxious to banish the scruples of more cautious minds, and to carry them all lengths with his own. And he was too successful. In after life he has met more than one of these converts, who have laughed at all his affectionate and earnest attempts to pull down the fabric erected too much by his own hands. Yet he was never wholly sincere in his infidelity. He has left a most impressive and encouraging testimony to the power of Parental Influence in preserving his mind, under the grace of God from entirely believing his own lie.* He gave me a farther instance of the power of conscience in this respect : — * See ftemains : On the Influence of the Parental Character, pp. 173, 1T4. 124 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. " When I was sunk in the depths of Infidelity, I was afraid to read any author who treated Christianity in a dispassionate, wise, and searching manner. He made me uneasy. Conscience would gather strength. I found it more difficult to stifle her remon- strances. He would recal early instructions and impressions, while my happiness could only consist with their obliteration." Yet he appears to have taken no small pains to rid himself of his scruples: — " I have read," said he, " all the most acute and learned and serious infidel writers, and have been really sur- prized at their poverty. The process of my mind has been such on the subject of Revelation, that I have often thought Satan has done more for me than for the best of them ; for I have had, and could have produced, arguments, that appeared to me far more weighty than any I ever found in them against Revelation." He did not proceed in this career of sin without occasional checks of conscience. Take the following instance : — *• My father had a religious servant. I frequently cursed and reviled him. He would only smile on me. That went to my heart. I felt that he looked on me as a deluded creature. 1 felt that he thought he had something which I knew not how to value, and that he was therefore greatly my superior. I felt there was a real dignity in his conduct. It made me appear little even in my own eyes. If he had condescended to argue with me, I could have cut some figure : at least by comparison, wretched as it would have been. He drew me once to hear Mr. Whitfield. I was 17 or 18 years old. It had no sort of religious effect on me, nor had the preaching of any man in my uncon- verted state. My religion began in contemplation. Yet I con- ceived a high reverence for Mr. Whitfield. I no longer thought of him as the Dr. Squintum we were accustomed to buffoon at school. I saw a commanding and irresistible effect, and he made me feel my own insignificance." For this daring offender, however, God had mercy in reserve! He was the child of many tears, instructions, admonitions, and prayers; and, though now a prodigal, he was to be recovered from his wickedness ! PERSONAL. 125 While under the controul of bad principles, he gave into every species of licentiousness — saving that, even then, the native no- bleness of his mind made him despise whatever he thought mean and dishonourable. Into this state of slavery he was brought by his sin : but here the mercy of God taught him some most im- portant lessons, which influenced his views and governed his ministry through after life ; and the same mercy then rescued him from the slavery to which he had submitted. The penetra- tion and grandeur of his mind, with his natural superiority to sensual pleasures, made him feel the littleness of every object which engages the ambition and the desires of the carnal man : insomuch that God had given him, in this unusual way of bringing him to himself, a thorough disgust of the world before he had gained any hold of higher objects and better pleasures. It was thus that God prepared him for further communications of mercy. And here he felt the advantage of having been connected with sincere Christians. He knew them to be holy, and he felt that they were happy. " It was one of the first things," said he, " which struck my mind in a profligate state, that, in spite of all the folly and hypocrisy and fanaticism which may be seen among religious professors, there was a mind after Christ, a holiness, a heavenliness, among real Christians." He added, on another occasion, " My first convictions on the sub- ject of religion were confirmed from observing that really religious persons had some solid happiness among them, which I had felt that the vanities of the world could not give. I shall never for- get standing by the bed of my sick mother. " Are not you afraid to die]" I asked her: "No." "No! Why does the uncer- tainty of another state give you no concern?" " Because God has said to me, ' Fear not : when thou passest through the wa- ters I will be with thee : and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee.' The remembrance of this scene has oftentimes since drawn an ardent prayer from me that I might die the death of the righteous." His mind opened very gradually to the truths of the Gospel : and tie process through which he was led, is a striking evidence 126' CHARACTER OF REV. RICHA.RD CECIL. of the imminence of his past danger. " My feelings," he said, " when I was first beginning to recover from my Infidelity, prove that I had been sutYered to go great lengths ; and to a very awful degree, to believe my own lie. My mind revolted from Christi- anity. God did not bring me to himself, by any of the peculiar motives of the Gospel. When I was about twenty years old, I became utterly sick of the vanity, and disgusted with the folly, of the world. I had no thought of Jesus Christ, or of Redemption. The very notion of Jesus Christ or of Redemption repelled me. I could not endure a system so degrading. I thought there might possibly be a Supreme Being ; and if there were such a Being, he might hear me when I prayed. To worship the Supreme Being seemed somewhat dignified. There was something grand and elevating in the idea. But the whole scheme and plan of Re- demption appeared mean, and degrading, and dishonourable to man. The New Testament, in its sentiments and institutions re- pelled me; and seemed impossible to be believed, as a religion suitable to man." The grace of God triumphed, however, over all opposition. The religion, which began in this disgust with the world and dis- affection to the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, made rapid advances in his mind. The seed sown in tears by his inestimable mother, though long buried, now burst into life, and shot forth with vigour : and he became a preacher of that truth, which once he laboured to destroy ! Yet grace did not annihilate the natural character and qualities of the mind ; though it regulated and directed them. The Christian's feelings and experience were modified by the constitution of the man. After a long course of spiritual watchfulness and warfare, he spoke thus of himself: — *f. There is what Bacon calls a dry light, in which subjects are viewed, without any predilection, or passion, or emotion, but simply as they exist. This is very much my character as a Christian. I have great constitutional resistance. Tell me such a thing is my duty — I know it is, but there I stop. Talk to me of hell — my heart would rise with a sort of daring stubborn- ness. There is a constitutional desperation about me, which was PERSONAL. 127 the most conspicuous feature in my character when young, and which has risen up against the gracious measures which God has all my life taken to subdue and break it. I feel I can do little in religion without encouragement. I am persuaded and satis- fied, tied and bound, by its truth and importance and value ; but I view the subject in a dry light. A strong sense of di- vine friendship goes a vast way with me. When I fall, God will raise me. When I want, God will provide. When I am in perplexity, God will deliver. He cares for me — pities me — bears with me — guides me — loves me." But the energy of Divine Grace was most conspicuous, in the controul and mastery of this resisting and high spirit of which our friend complained. Nay, if there were any one Christian Virtue in which he was more advanced than any other, it appears to me to have been humility — not that humility which debases itself that it may be exalted, and which is offended if its professions be believed : but the humility which arose from abiding and growing conviction of his infinite distance from the standard of perfection, and the little comparative use which he had made of his many means and helps in approaching that standard — an hu- mility that expressed itself, therefore, in a teachableness of mind,* a ready acknowledgment of excellence in others, and a candour in judging of other persons, which are seldom equalled ; and which were rare endowments in a mind that could not but feel its own powers, and its superiority to that of most other men.. But God has a thousand unseen methods of forming and cherishing those graces in his servants, which seem most opposed to their constitution, and least to be expected in their circumstances. Mr. Cecil gave me one day the following remarkable illustra- tion of this subject in his own case : — '" It is a nice question in casuistry — How far a man may feel complacency in the exercise of * " A friend, who knew him for thirty or forty years, ha9 informed me," says Mr. Wilson, " that he was more ready to hear of his faults from persons whom he esteemed, than most men. When any failings were pointed out to him, he usually thanked the re- prover, and anxiously enquired for further admonitions. I have observed myself, that, when he gave advice, which he did with acuteness and decision, he was quite superior t» that little vanity which is off«nded if the counsel be not followed." 128 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. talent. A hawk exults on his wing: he skims and sails, delight- ing in the consciousness of his powers. I know nothing of this feeling. Dissatisfaction accompanies me, in the study and in the pulpit. I never made a sermon, with which I felt satis- fied: I never preached a sermon, with which I felt satisfied. I have always present to my mind such a conception of what MIGHT be done, and I sometimes hear the thing so done, that what I do falls very far beneath what it seems to me it should be. Some sermons which I have heard have made me sick of my own for a month afterwards. Many ministers have no con- ception of anything beyond their own world : they compare themselves only with themselves ; and, perhaps they must do so: if I could give them my views of their ministry, without chang- ing the men, they would be ruined ; while now they are eminent instruments in God's hands. But some men see too much be- yond themselves for their own comfort. Perhaps complacency in the exercise of talent, be it what it may, is hardly to be sepa- rated, in such a wretched heart as man's from pride. It seems to me that this dissatisfaction with myself, is the messenger sent to buffet me and keep me down. In other men, the separation between complacency and pride may be possible ; but I scarcely think it is so in me."* I have alluded to Mr. Cecil's ready acknowledgment of the worth of others; and I must add, that he culti- vated that discrimination of excellence, which leads a man to discover and esteem it in the midst of imperfections. He had an unfeigned regard to real worth, wherever it was found. The powers of the understanding have often fascinated men of inferior wisdom, and lessened the odiousness of an immoral state of heart too plainly seen in others; but, if the excellencies of the head and the heart must be disjoined, he never failed to value that which * Mr. Churtonhasa remark on Dr. Johnson, somewhat of a similar nature to this of Mr. C. on himself. He thinks that " Johnson's morbid melancholy and constitutional in- firmities were intended by Providence, like St. Paul's thorn in the flesh, to check intellec- tual conceit and arrogance; which the consciousness of his extraordinary talents, awake as he was to the voice of praise, might otherwise have generated in a very culpable degree." Bosivell's Life of Johnson, '2d Edit. 8vo. vol.III.ji.bQi, PERSONAL. I '29 is most truly valuable. He would say — " Such a friend of ours is what many men look down on, as a weak man ; but I honour his wisdom and his devotedness. He throws himself out, and all the powers which God has given him, into the service of his Master, in all those ways which seem to him best; and, though perhaps he and I should for ever differ on the best way, and though I see in him many peculiarities and weaknesses, yet I ho- nour and love the man: I revere his simplicity and his piety. He is what God has made him ; and all that he is he puts into action for God." If Mr. Cecil was at any time severe in his re- marks on others, his severity was chiefly directed against that ignorant vanity and affectation, which push a man forward where great men would retire, and which make him dogmatical where wise men would speak with humility and candour. Closely allied with his humility, was that openness to con- viction, which Mr. Cecil possessed in an unusual degree. He had dived so deeply into his own heart, and had read man so ac- curately — his short sightedness, his scanty span, his pride, and his passions — that he was, more than most men, superior to that little feeling which makes us quit the scholar's form. Many men speak of themselves and of all around them as in a state of pu- pilage and childhood, but I never approached a man, on whose mind this conviction had a more real and practical influence. Disinterestedness was a pre-eminent characteristic of Mr. Cecil as a Christian. His whole spirit and conduct spoke one language: — "Let me and mine be nothing, so that thy king- dom may come!" His disinterestedness was grounded on his conviction of the absolute nothingness of all earthly good, com- pared with the glory of Christ and the interests of his kingdom. In all pecuniary transactions, of a private or public nature, he was governed by this principle; and made a free and cheerful sacrifice of what he might have lawfully obtained, if he thought his receiving it would impede his usefulness. On one occasion of this nature, he explained the noble prin- ciple on which he acted: — "A. Christian is called to refrain from ,some things, which, though actually right, yet will not bear a t K 130 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL good appearance to all men. I once judged it my duty to refuse a considerable sum of money, which I might lawfully and fairly have received, because I considered that my account of the mat- ter could not be stated to some, to whom a different representa- tion would be made. A man who intends to stand immaculate, and, like Samuel, to come forward and say — Whose Ox or whose Ass have I taken? must count the cost. I knew that my charac- ter was worth more to me than this sum of money. By probity, a man honours himself. It is the part of a wise man, to wave the present good for the future increase. A merchant suffers a large quautity of goods to go out of the kingdom to a foreign land, but he has his object in doing so: he knows, by calculation, that he shall make so much more advantage by them. A Christian is made a wise man by counting the cost. The best picture I know of the exercise of this virtue, drawn by the hand of man, is that by John Buuyan in the characters of Passion and Patience/'* Associated with this disinterestedness of spirit, was a singular * I cannot but add here a conversation reported to me by a friend, which he had wilh Mr. Cecil on the subject of his tyfhes at Chobham, and which most strikingly illustrates his disinterested character :— " My tythes produce only so much"--- " Why do you not increase them 1" — " We fixed on a sum, and, as it appeared something like satisfactory to the landholders, 1 determined not to raise them, though they were at their own price." " Sir, you are not doing even conscientious justice to your family. I am persuaded, from my experience in tythes, that your parish, from its extent, would yield much more uer year in tythe only— exclusively of your glebe, &c." " So I have understood. But, my dear friend, tythes are an obnoxious property; and every increase creates bitterness of spirit. Why, sir, though my parishioners had them on their own terms, one of them the first year came to me and said he could not pay, plead- ing some loss with which my tythes were not in the least degree connected." " But, Sir, why not appoint your friend, Mr. , to receive for you ?"-■- " That would be doing by deputy a thing disagreeable to myself." " Admitting all the motives clearly implied by your answers, yet, sir, how do you divest yourself of the force of the argument derived from that law, which declares a man cen- surable, who does not to the utmost of his power take care of those of his own household V " I was permitted to go to Chobham to preach the Gospel. Whatever as their Minister I could receive, without heart-burnings, was all well ; but, to raise an income by compul- sion (whatever I might do with one ali'eady raised) I could not. I therefore told them, that, if they would attend to the knowledge of the truth, I would never quarrel about their tythes. If I thought I Bhould make one man step back one pace in his way to the attain- ment of the truth, through a suspicion that I sought my interest more than their eternal happiness. I would not receive one guinea of them. My dear friend, I have again and again considered this subject, and I am to be content with what is sent ine. It will not do for a Minister of the Gospel of Peace to be raising the revenue of the Church and driving the people from it. We have too much of this at this day. If, in the spirit of peace, more was designed for me I should have it. My people seem content, and things must remain as they are with regard to what they pay me, If Ihej will now but hear and receive the trnth, it is all I shall ever ask of them." PERSONAL. IS! PRACTICAL RELIANCE ON PROVIDENCE, in all the most minute and seemingly indifferent affairs of his life. He was em- phatically, to use his own expression, "a pupil of signs" — waiting for and following the leadings and openings of Divine Providence in his affairs. I once consulted him throughout a very delicate and perplexing affair. In one stage of it, he said to me — " You have not done this thing exactly as I should have felt my mind led to do it. I feel myself in such cases like a child in the mid- dle of an intricate and perplexed wood. Two considerations weigh with me, First — If I could see all the involutions, and re- lations, and bearings, and consequences of the affair, then I might feel myself able to move forward: but, Secondly — I know not one of them, not even the shadow of one, nay, hardly the pro- bability of such and such issues. Then I am driven to simple reliance. I have never found God fail me in such cases. When I am utterly lost and confounded, I look for openings, clear and evident to my own conviction. I have a warrant for all this. Our grand danger with reference to Providence is that we should walk as men: — Are ye not carnal, and walk as men?" On another occasion he said — "We make too little of the subject of Providence. My mind is by nature so intrepid and sanguine, and it has so often led me to anticipate God in his guidings to my severe loss, that perhaps I am now too sus- picious and dilatory in following him. However, this is a maxim with me — that, when I am waiting with a simple, child-like spirit for openings and guidings, and imagine I perceive them, God would either prevent the semblance of them from rising up be- fore me if these were not his leadings in reality, or he would preserve me from deeming them such; and therefore I always follow what appears to be my duty without hesitation." But the spring of all these Christian Virtues, and the master- grace of his mind was faith. His whole spirit and character Were a living illustration of that definition of the Apostle — Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen! He appeared to me never to be exercised with doubts and fears. His magnanimity entered most strikingly into his K2 132 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. religious character. He was convinced and satisfied by all the divine declarations and promises — and he left himself, with un- suspecting confidence, in God's hands.* I quote Mr. Wilson's testimony to the PATIENCE of our friend under afflictions. "He was not only, in opposi- tion to all the tendencies of his natural dispositions, resigned, but chearful under his trials. I have seen him repeatedly, at his Living in the country, return from his ride racked with pain; pale, emaciated, speechless. I have seen him throw himself all along upon his sofa, on his face, and cover his forehead with his hands; and there, without an expression of complaint, endure the paroxysm of his disorder: and 1 have been astonished to ob- serve him rise up in an instant, with his wonted dignity, and en- ter upon conversation with cheerfulness and vigour. He has often acknowledged to me, that the anguish he felt was like a dagger plunged into his side, and that through a whole summer he has not had two nights free from tormenting pain. Such were his sufferings for ten or twelve years previous to his last illness. And yet this was the man, or rather this was the Christian, from whose lips I never heard a murmuring word." It is almost needless to add, that Mr. Cecil possessed re- markable decision of character. When he went to Oxford he had made a resolution of restricting himself to a quar- ter of an hour daily, in playing on the violin ; on which instru- ment he greatly excelled, and of which he was extravagantly fond: but he found it impracticable to adhere to his determi- nation ; and had so frequently to lament the loss of time in this fascinating amusement, that, with the noble spirit which charac- terized him through life, he cut his strings, and never afterward replaced them. He studied for a painter; and, after he had • Mr. Wilson justly remarks of our friend, that " the determination and grandeur of bis wind displayed his faith to peculiar advantage. This divine principle quite realized and substantiated to him the things which are not seen and eternal. Jt was absolutely like another sense. The things of time were as nothing. Every thing that came before him was referred to aspiiitual standard. His one great object was fixed, and this object en- firossed his whole soul. Here his foot stood immoveable, as on a rock. His hold on the truths of the Scriptures was so firm, that he acted on them boldly and unreservedly. He went all lengths, and risked all consequences, on the word and promise of God." PERSONAL. 133 changed his object, retained a fondness and a taste for the art: he was once called to visit a sick lady, in whose room there was a painting which so strongly attracted his notice, that he found his attention diverted from the sick person, and absorbed by the painting: from that moment he formed the resolution of mor- tifying a taste, which he found so intrusive, and so obstructive to him in his nobler pursuits ; and determined never afterward to frequent the Exhibition. Nor was his intrepid and inflexible firmness less conspicuous, whenever the interests of truth, and the honour of Christ were concerned. The world in arms would not have ap- palled him, while the glory of Christ was in his view. Nor do 1 believe that he would have hesitated for a moment, after he had given to nature her just tribute of feeling and of tears, to go forth from his family, and join the "noble army of martyrs" who expired in the flames in Smithfield, had the honour of his Master called him to this sacrifice: nor would his knees have trembled, nor his look changed. Yet cannot I but add, that this firmness never degenerated into rudeness. He knew and observed all those decencies of life which render mutual intercourse agreeable; and he had that ease of manner, among all classes of society, which bespoke per- fect self-possession and a thorough knowledge of the world. His address in meeting the manners and habits of thinking of persons of rank, either when they were enquiring into religion or under affliction, was perhaps scarcely to be equalled. The associations in our friend's mind were often of a very humorous kind. He had a strong natural turn for associations of this nature, which threw a great vivacity and charm over his familiar conversation — employed as it was, in the main, like every faculty of his mind, for useful ends. He was fully aware, however, of the danger of possessing such a faculty, and the temptations to which it exposed him; prompted and supported as it was by a buoyancy of spirits, which even great and length- ened pain could scarcely subdue. I have looked at him, and listened to him, with astonishment — when, meeting with a few 1 34 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. other young men occasionally at his house, we have found him dejected and worne out with pain — stretched on his sofa, and de- clining to join in our conversation — till he caught an interest in what was passing — when the question of an enquiring or bur- dened conscience has roused him to an exertion of his great mind — he has risen from his sofa — he has forgot his suffering — and has left us nothing to do but to admire and treasure up most profound and impressive remarks on the Scripture, on the heart, and on the world ! The mention of his humour and his vivacity of spirits leads me to remark, that I am not writing a panegyric, but drawing a character. No character can be faithful, while the best original is such as he must be in the present state, if it carry no shades. I have no wish to conceal the shades of this extraordinary cha- racter. Sternness and Levity were the two constitutional evils which most severely exercised him. They seem to have been the necessary result, in an imperfect being, of the union of that masculine and original vigour with humour and an ardent fancy, which met in the structure of his mind. So far, indeed, had grace triumphed over these constitutional enemies, that the very opposite features were the most prominent in his character; and no one could approach him without feeling himself with a most tender and serious mind. I speak of those occasional ebul- litions which tended to remind him, that, though he was invested with a new and triumphant nature, he was yet at home in the body, and subject to the recurrence of his constitutional in- firmities. Yet, though Mr. Cecil felt occasionally temptations to levity, through the buoyancy and spring of his animal spirits, his pre- vailing temper was of a quite opposite description. A sensibility of spirit, with his view of human nature and of the world, threw a cast of melancholy over his mind. He was far more dis- posed to weep over the guilt and misery of man, than to smile at his follies. " I have," said he, " a salient principle in me. My spirits never sink. Yet I have a strong dash of melancholy. It is a high and exquisite feeling. When I first wake in the PERSONAL. 135 morning, I could often weep with pleasure. The holy calm — the silence — the freshness — thrill through my soul. At such moments I should feel the presence of any person to be intru- sion and impertinence, and common affairs nauseous. The still- ness of an empty house is paradise to me. The man who has never felt thus, cannot be made to understand what I mean. " Hooker's dying thought," he added, " is congenial to my spirit. ' I am going to leave a world disordered, and a church disorganized, for a world and a church where every angel, and every rank of angel, stand before the throne in the very post God has assigned them.' I am obliged habitually to turn my eye from the wretched disorders of the world and the church, to the beauty, harmony, meekness, and glory of the better world." On another occasion, he said — " 1 have been long in the habit of viewing every thing around me as in a state of alienation. I have no hold on my dearest comforts. My children must se- parate from me. One has his lot cast in one place, and another elsewhere. It may be my particular leading, but I have never leaned toward my comforts without finding them give way. A sharp warning has met me — ' These are aliens, and as an alien live thou among them.' We may use our comforts by the way. We may take up the pitcher to drink, but the moment we begin to admire, God will in love dash it to pieces. But I feel no such alienation from the Church. I am united to Christ and to all his glorified and living members by an indissoluble bond. Here my mind can centre and sympathize, without suspicion or fear." " I feel," he would say, " a congeniality with the character of Jeremiah. I seem to understand him. I could approach him, and feel encouraged to familiarity. It is not so with Elijah or Ezekiel. There is a rigour and severity about them which seem to repel me to a distance, and excite reverence rather than sym- pathy and love." In a very interesting case on which I consulted him, he gave me a striking view of this feature in his character — " I should have fallen myself into an utterly different mode of conducting 136 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. the affair. But you have not the melancholy in your constitu- tion which I have, and therefore to look for my mode of the thing in you, would he expecting what ought not to be expected. This is a strong alterative in your dispensation. Now I have long been in the habit of viewing every thing of that aspect rather in a melancholy light. You are standing on the justice, the reason, the truth of your cause. I should have heard God saying—' Son of man follow me.' It would have led me into a speculative— mystical sort of way. I should have seen in it the flood that is sweeping over the earth — the utter bankruptcy of all human affairs. Most men, if they had stood by and com- pared our conduct, would have commended yours as rational, but condemned mine as enthusiastic — as connecting things to- gether which had no proper connection ; but this is my way of viewing every alterative in my dispensation." "The heart, "said he, "must be divorced from its idols. Age does a great deal in curing the man of his frenzy; but, if God has a special work for a man, he takes a shorter and sharper course with him. Stand ready for it. I have been in both schools. Bleeding and cauterizing have done much for me, and age has done much also— Can 1 any longer taste what [eat or what I drink?" Though the Memoir of Mr. Cecil's life, and the Letters which are subjoined, bear ample testimony to the TENDERNESS of his relative affections, yet I cannot but add here what a friend wrote on visiting him, many years before his decease, at a time when he was expecting the death of Mrs. Cecil : — "Mrs. Cecil was ill. I called on Mr. Cecil. I found him in his study, sitting over his bible in great sorrow. His tears fell so fast, that he could utter only broken sentences. He said, ' Christians do well to speak of the grace, love and goodness of God; but we must remember that he is a holy and jealous God. Judg- ment must begin at the house of God. This severe stroke is but a farther call to me to arise and shake myself. My hope is still firm in God. He, who sends the stroke, will bear me up under it: and I have no doubt but if I saw the whole of his PERSONAL. 137 design I should say, 'Let her be taken!' Yet, while there is life, I cannot help saying, ' Spare her another year, that I may be a little prepared for her loss!' I know I have higher ground of comfort : but I shall deeply feel the taking away of the dying lamp. Her excellence as a wife and a mother, I am obliged to keep out of sight, or I should be overwhelmed. All I can do is, to go from text to text, as a bird from spray to spray. Our Lord said to his disciples, Where is pour Faith ? God has given her to be my comfort these many years, and shall I not trust him for the future? This is only a farther and more expensive education for the work of the ministry: it is but saying more closely, 'Will you pay the price?' If she should die, I shall re- quest all my friends never once to mention her name to me. I can gather no help from what is called friendly condolence. Job's friends understood grief better, when they sat down and spake not a word'." Our departed friend was, at once, a public and a ketired man. While his sacred office, exercised for many years in a con- spicuous sphere, brought him much before the world, his turn of mind was retired — he courted solitude — he held converse there with God, and his own great spirit mingled with the mighty dead : he had such a practical knowledge and deep impression of the nothingness of the whole world, compared with spiritual and eternal realities, and he had so deeply felt, and so thoroughly despised its lying pretensions to meet the wants and to satisfy the longings of the immortal soul, that it was no sacrifice to him to turn away from the shows and the pursuits of life, and to shut out all the splendour and seductions of the world. Yet this retired spirit was not unsocial, morose, or repulsive. No one called him from his retirement to ask spiritual counsel, but he was met with tenderness and urbanity. No congenial mind encountered his without eliciting sparks both of benevo- lence and wisdom. Not a child in his family could carry its little complaints to him, but he would stop the career of his mind to listen and relieve. His study was his favourite retreat. His station exposed him 138 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. to constant interruptions, some necessary, and others arising from the injudiciousness of those who applied to him. It was not un- usual with him to make use of his power of abstraction on these occasions. Time was too valuable to be lavished away on the inconsideration of some of those who thought it necessary to call on him. It was generally his practice, not immediately to obey a summons from his study, but when he knew he had to do with a person who would occupy much of his time by a long conver- sation before the business was brought forward, rather than hurt their feelings he would carry down in his mind the train of thought which he was pursuing in his study, and, while that Avhich was beside the purpose played on his ear, his mind was following the subject on which it had entered before. Some men are at home in society: the wide world is their dwelling-place : they are known and read of all men : they have a peculiar talent for improving mixed society. But this was not the character of Mr. Cecil. He unfolded himself, indeed, to his friends; but those friends could not but feel, that, when they broke in on his retirement for any other objects than what were connected with his high calling, they were intruders on inesti- mable time. I had, indeed, the privilege and happiness of free access to him at all times, for a considerable course of years, while I was his assistant in the ministry ; but, for the reasons just assigned, though I was a diligent observer of his mind and habits, I feel myself not prepared to speak fully of his more domestic and retired character. " Retirement," he said, " is my grand ordinance. Considera- tions govern me. Death is a mighty consideration with me. The utter vanity of every thing under the sun is another. If a man wishes to influence my mind, he must assign considerations : and, if he assigns one or two which will weigh well, I seem im- patient to stop him if he is proceeding to assign more. He has given me a Consideration, anrl that suffices. The " Night Thoughts" is a great book with me, notwithstanding its glaring imperfections ; it realizes Death and Vanity. And, because this PERSONAL. 139 is the frame and habit of my own mind, my ministry partakes of it ; and must partake of it, if I would preach naturally and from my heart." In surveying the Personal Character of Mr. Cecil, it remains to speak somewhat more fully of his intellectual powers. His imagination was not so much of the playful and ele- gant, as bold, inventive, striking, and instinctively judicious and discriminating. His taste in the sister arts of Painting, Poetry, and Music was refined, and his judgment learned. In his younger days he had studied and excelled in Painting and Music ; and though he laid them aside that he might devote all his powers to his work, yet the savour of them so far remained, that I have been witness innumerable times, both in public and private, to the felicity of his illustrations drawn from these subjects, and to the superiority that his intimate knowledge of them gave him over most persons with whom they happened to be brought forward. His taste, when young, was for Italian music ; but, in his latter years, he was fond of the German style, or rather the softer Moravian. Anthems, or any pieces wherein the words were re-iterated, he disliked, for all public worship especially, as they sacrificed the real spirit of devotion too much to the music. His feelings on this subject were exquisite. " Pure, spiritual, sublime devotion," he would say, " should be the soul of public music/' He often lamented the introduction of any other style of architecture in places of worship, beside that which was so peculiarly appro- priate, and which, because it was so, called up associations best suited to the purposes of meeting. He said most strikingly — " I never enter a Gothic church, without feeling myself im- pressed with something of this idea — ' Within these walls has been resounded, for centuries, by successive generations, " Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ \" ' The very damp that trickles down the walls, and the unsightly green that moulders upon the pillars, are far more pleasing to me from their associations, than the trim, finished, classic, heathen piles of the present fashion," 140 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. His powers of comparison, analogy, and judgment have been rarely equalled. These had been exercised so long and with so much energy on all the conditions and relations around him — on the word of God — on his own mind — on the history, opinions, passions, prejudices, and motives of men in every age, and of every character and station — on moral causes and effects — on every subject that can come within the grasp of a philoso- sophic mind — that the result was a wisdom so prominent and commanding, that every man felt himself with a mind of the very first order both in capability and acquirement. In some cases, wherein my wishes, perhaps, formed my opinions ; and, trying to hide the truth from myself, I have asked his opinion as a confir- mation of my own — he has unmasked my heart to itself, by his wise and searching replies. His decisions were more according to circumstances than in most men : and, when he gave them, it would generally be with a declaration that other circumstances might wholly change the aspect of the thing ; and he did this in such a manner — if I may judge by my own case — as often to make a man look about him, and bethink himself what a treache- rous and blind party he had to transact with in his bosom. To those who did not know him intimately, he might some- times appear to want a quickness of perception. The appearance of this faculty is often assumed, where God has not given it. Where the mind does decide rapidly, its conclusions are gene- rally partial and defective, in proportion to their rapidity. In- tuition is not a faculty of the present condition of being, whatever it may be of that toward which we are advancing. He affected no such quality, yet he possessed more of it than most men. When he did not fully understand what was addressed to him, he said so ; and his mind was so familiar with the difficulty of discovering truth through the veils and shades thrown over her by prejudice and self-love, that he did not hastily bring himself to think that he possessed your full meaning. His good sense and wisdom led him to avoid all peculi- arity and eccentricity. He was decidedly adverse to MINISTERIAL. 141 every thing of this nature. " When any thing peculiar appears," he would say, " in a religious man's manners, or dress, or furni- ture, this is supposed by the world to constitute his religion. A clergyman indeed is allowed by common consent, and indeed it is but decent in him, to have every thing about him plain and substantial rather than ornamental and fashionable." The personal character of Mr. Cecil had a manifest influence on his MINISTERIAL. We find him frequently accounting for those views and feelings which prevailed in his Ministry, by a reference to his constitution and his early history. His sentiments on the ministerial office are scattered through his writings, as this was ever present to his mind. Wherever he was, and whatever was his employment, he was always the Christian Minister. He was ever on the watch to do the work of an Evangelist, and to make full proof of his Ministry. I have collected together his thoughts on this subject in some sections of his "Remains:" and I think it impossible that any young Minister should read these thoughts without imbibing a higher estimation of his sacred office. More will be found on these points in the following views of his Ministerial Character, gathered from his own lips. These views were most striking and sublime. " A Minister is a Levite. In general he has, and he is to have, no inheritance among his brethren. Other men are not Levites. They must recur to means, from which a Minister has no right to expect any thing. Their affairs are all the little transactions of this world. But a Minister is called and set apart for a high and sublime business. His transactions are to be between the living and the dead—between heaven and earth; and he must stand as with wings on his shoulders. He must look, therefore, for every 142 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. thing in his affairs to be done for him and before his eyes. I am at a loss to conceive how a Minister, with right feelings, can plot and contrive for a Living. If he is told that there is such a thing for him if he will make such an application, and that it is to be so obtained, and so only, all is well — but not a step farther. It is in vain, however, to put any man on acting in this manner, if lie be not a Levite in principle and in character. These must be the expressions of a nature communicated to him from God — a high principle of Faith begetting Simplicity. He must be an eagle towering toward heaven on slrong pinions. The barn-door hen must continue to scratch her grains out of the dunghill/' He thought that the life of a Minister, with respect to worldly affairs, ought to be, peculiarly above that of other men, a life of faith. It was his maxim, to lay out no money unnecessarily — and, with this principle, he regarded his purse as in God's hand, and found it like the barrel of meal and the cruse of oil. He confessed that he could advise this conduct in no case but in that of a Christian Minister, who was a wise and prudent, as well as a right-hearted manager of his affairs. His habit was, to be the child of simplicity and faith — acting as a servant of God, on those principles which he judged most suitable to his character and station. He had exalted ideas of ministerial authority—not the autho- rity which results merely from office, but from office united with personal character — not the claims of priestly arrogauce; but the claims of priestly dignity. " I never chuse to forget that I am a priest, because I would not deprive myself of the right to dic- tate in my ministerial capacity. I cannot allow a man, therefore, to come to me merely as a friend, on his spiritual affairs, because I should have no authority to say to him, * Sir, you must do so and so.' I cannot suffer my best frieuds to dictate to me in any thing which concerns my ministerial duties. I have often had to eucounter this spirit ; and there would be no end of it, if I did not check and resist it. I plainly tell them that they know nothing of the matter. I ask them if it is decent that a man, ini- MINISTERIAL. 143 mersed in other concerns, should pretend to know my affairs and duties, better than myself, who, as they ought to believe, make them the study of my life. I have been disgusted — deeply dis- gusted — ?t the manner in which some men of flaming religious profession talk of certain preachers. They estimate them just as Garrick would have estimated the worth of players, or as Handel would have ranged an orchestra. * Such an one is clever— he is a master' — Clever! — a master! — Worth and character and dig- nity are of no weight in the scale." These views are just and noble; and they are suited to his own great mind, and the entire hold which his office had on his heart. But — listening with his whole soul to that injunction, Meditate on these things, give thyself wholly to them — it may be doubted whether he did not sometimes challenge to his office more respect than the party concerned could be expected to allow due. Mr. Cecil's preparation and training for this ex- alted office have been already spoken of in the view of his Personal Character, and may be further traced in the Memoir of his Life. This was, as has been seen, of no common kind. His qualifications for the discharge of the mi- nistry were peculiar. The great natural powers which God had given him, were moulded and matured by the training and discipline through which he was led, and were consecrated by grace to the service of his Master. It will not be requisite to recapitulate what has been said on this subject. I shall here speak only of those qualifications which were more appropriate to him as a public teacher. His learning consisted more in the knowledge of other men's ideas, than in an accurate acquaintance with the niceties of the languages. Yet he was better acquainted with these, than many who devote a disproportionate time to this acquisition. His incessant application, chiefly by candle-light, when at Oxford, to the study of Greek, of which he was enthusiastically fond, brought on an almost total loss of sight for six months. He had determined to become a perfect master of the niceties of that re- fined and noble language. The counsel, however, which he 144 CHARACTER, OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. received from Dr. Bacon, and which is recorded in his " Remains" (pp. 121, 122), put him on proportioning his attention more ac- cording to the future utility of his pursuits than he had been accustomed to. " I was struck with his advice," he said. " I had an unsettled sort of religion, but enough to make me see and choose the truth which lie set before me." So solid and extensive was Mr. Cecil's real learning, that there were no important points, in morals or religion, on which he had not read the best authors, and made up his mind on the most mature deliberation ; nor could any topic be started in history or philosophy, on subjects of art or of science, with which he was not found more generally acquainted than other men. But while he could lay these parts of learning under contribution to aid him in his one object of impressing truth on man, he was a master in the learning which is more peculiarly appropriate to his pro- fession. He was so much in the habit of daily reading the Scrip- tures in the originals, that, as he told me, he went to this employ naturally and insensibly. He limited himself to no stated quan- tity: but, as his time allowed, he read one or two, and sometimes five or six chapters daily. Mr. Cecil had the power of exciting and preserving attention above most men. All his effort was directed, first to engage attention, and then to repay it — to allure curiosity, and then to gratify it. Till the attention was gained he felt that nothing could be ef- fected on the mind. Sometimes he would have recourse to un- usual methods, suited indeed to his auditory, to awaken and fix their minds. " I was once preaching," he said, " a Charity Ser- mon, where the congregation was very large, and chiefly of the lower order. I found it impossible, by my usual method of preaching, to gain their attention. It was in the afternoon, and my hearers seemed to meet nothing in my preaching, which was capable of rousing them out of the stupefaction of a full dinner. Some lounged, and some turned their backs on me. 'I must have attention/ I said to myself. ' I will be heard/ The case was desperate; and, in despair, I sought a desperate MINISTERIAL. 145 remedy. I exclaimed aloud, • Last Monday moruing a man was hanged at Tyburn' — instantly the face of things was changed ! All was silence and expectation! I caught their ear, and retained it through the Sermon." This anecdote leads me to observe that Mr. Cecil had, in an unusual degree, the talent of adapting his ministry to his congregation. While he was, for instance, preach- ing on the same day at Lothbury, at St. John's morning and after- noon, and at Spitalfields in the evening — he found four congre- gations at these places, in many respects, quite distinct from one another; and yet he adapted his preaching, with admirable skill, to meet their habits of thinking. But, when he had gained the attention, he was ever on the watch not to weary. He seemed to have continually before his eyes the sentiments of our great critic and moralist:"* "Tedi- ousness is the most fatal of all faults: negligences or errors are single and local, but tediousness pervades the whole : other faults are censured, and forgotten ; but the power of tediousness pro- pagates itself. He that is weary the first hour, is more weary the second; as bodies forced into motion, contrary to their tendency, pass more and more slowly through every successive interval of space." Mr. Cecil would say, " You have a certain quantity of attention to work on: make the best use of it while it lasts. The iron will cool, and then nothing, or worse than nothing, is done. If a preacher will leave unsaid all vain repetitions, and watch against undue length in his entrance and width in his discussion, he may limit a written sermon to half an hour, and one from notes to forty minutes; and this time he should not allow himself to exceed, except on special occasions." His power of illustration was great and versatile. His topics were chiefly taken from Scripture and from life. His manner of illustrating his subjects by Scripture examples, was the most finished I have ever heard. They were ne\er intro- duced violently or abruptly; but his matter was so moulded in preparation for them, by a few well-turned sentences, that the • Lives of (he Poets, vol. III. p. 35. VOL. I. L 146 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. illustration seemed to be placed in the Scripture almost for the sake of the doctrine. The general features of the character or history were left in the back-ground, and those only which were appropriate to the matter in hand were brought forward, and so were presented with great force to the mind. His talent in dis- criminating the striking features and connecting them with his matter was so peculiar, that the histories of Abraham, of Jacob, of David, and of St. Paul, seemed in his hands to be ever new, and to be exhaustless treasures of illustration. The turn both of his mind and of his experience seemed to lead him to this method. What he did, therefore, with ease and feeling, it was natural should be done frequently ; and, accord- ingly I have scarcely ever heard a sermon from him in which there were not repeated exercises of this peculiar talent, and in some sermons almost the entire subject has been treated in this manner. This talent of illustrating his subjects, and particularly of seizing incidents for improvement, gave an edge to his wise ad- monitions in private; and fixed them deep in the memory. Rid- ing with a friend in a very windy day, the dust was so trouble- some, that his companion wished they were at their journey's end where they might ride in the fields free from dust : and this wish he repeated more than once while on the road. When they reached the fields, the flies so teized his friend's horse, that he could scarcely keep his seat on the saddle. On his bitterly com- plaining, "Ah! Sir," said Mr. Cecil, "when you were in the road the dust was your only trouble, and all your anxiety was to get into the fields: you forgot that the fly was there! Now this is a true picture of human life : and you will find it so in all the changes you make in future. We know the trials of our present situation ; but the next will have trials, and perhaps worse, though they may be of a different kind." At another time, the same friend told him he should esteem it a favour, if he would tell him of any thing which he might in future see in his conduct which he thought improper. " Well, Sir !" he said, " many a man has told the watchman to call him MINISTERIAL. 147 early in the morning, and has then appeared very anxious for his coming early ; but the watchman has come before he has been ready for him ! I have seen many people very desirous of being told their faults; but I have seen very few who were pleased when they received the information. However, I like to receive an invitation, and I have no reason to suppose you will be dis- pleased till I see it is so. I shall therefore remember that you have asked for it," His style, particularly in preaching and in free conversation, was easy and natural. If he ever laboured his expression, it was in search of emphasis, rather than precision — of words which would penetrate the soul, rather than round his period and float in the ear. He considered that vigorous conceptions would clothe themselves in the fittest expressions — Verbaque provisam rem non invito, sequentur : Or, as Milton has admirably said — " True eloquence I find to be none, but the serious and hearty love of truth: and that, whose mind soever is fully possessed with a fervent desire to know good things, and with the dearest charity to infuse the knowledge of them into others, when such a man would speak, his words, like so many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at command, and, in well-ordered files, as he would wish, fall aptly into their own places." His written style has less ease than that of his conversation or preaching. He excelled rather in strong intuitive sense, than in a train of argument; and more in the liveliness of his thoughts, than in their arrangement. He would put down his thoughts as they arose — often at separate times, and as suggested by the oc- casion — and was not always nice in rejecting obsolete expressions, or antithesis in sense. This occasioned a want of flow and ease in many parts of his writings, which the warmth of conversation or preaching swept away. Impression was the leading feature of his ministry. Per- haps the information conveyed by it to the mind was not L2 1+8 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. sufficiently systematic and minute. He had seen so much the evil of spending the preacher's time in doctrinal statements, that possibly there was some deficiency in this respect in his own practice. When, indeed, he had to introduce religion to his con- gregation at St. John's or Chobham, on his first entering on those charges, he dealt with them as a people needing information on first principles : but my remark applies to the habit and course of his ministry. For, however true it is, that, when a man be- comes a serious reader of God's word he must grow in the know- ledge of the truth ; yet many will still read the Bible with an indiscriminating mind, unless their Minister's statements give them, not only a lucid general view of doctrines, but somewhat of a systematic and connected view; and not a few — buried in the cares of the world — will derive all their notions of the system of divine truth from what they hear in public. Mr. Cecil wrote and spoke to mankind. He dealt with the business and bosoms of men. An energy of truth prevailed in his ministry, which roused the conscience ; and a benevolence reigned in his spirit, which seized the heart: yet I much question whether the prevailing effect of his preaching was not determina- tion grounded on conviction and admiration, rather than on emotion. When in perfect health and spirits, and master of his subject, his eloquence was finished and striking : but though there was often a tenderness which awakened correspon- ding feelings in the hearer, yet his eloquence wanted that vehement passion which overpowers and carries away the minds of others. — si vis mejlere, dolendum est Primum ipsi tibi This is the great secret for getting hold of the heart. But as not much of the impassioned entered into the composition of his na- ture, and he was at the same time pre-eminent in genius and judgment, it could not but follow that admiration should af- fect the hearer more frequently than strong feeling. A friend has told me that he has often lost the benefit of the truth which Mr. Cecil has uttered, in admiration of the exquisite man- MINISTERIAL. H9 ner in which it was conveyed. And I have again and again de- tected this iu myself; and found I have been watching eagerly for what would fall next from him, not in the spirit of a new- born babe that desires the sincere milk of the word that I might grow thereby, but for the gratification of a mental voluptuous- ness. I desire no one will suppose that I impute to him any of the studied artifices of eloquence. No man sought more than he . did, that his hearers' faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God. No man more sincerely aimed to have his speech and his preaching not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the spirit and of power: yet, moreover, because the preacher was wise, he still taught the people knoivledge ; yea, he gave good heed, ««rf sought out, and SET IN ORDER the messages of divine mercy. The preacher sought TO find out acceptable words, yet that which was written was upright, even words of truth. He could not but treat his subjects in this exquisite manner while his taste, his genius, and his nature remained ; but this could not but be sanc- tified to his master's honour, while he retained the perfect inte- grity, the deep conviction, and the singleness of eye which his Master had given him. That it was the farthest possible from trick and artifice might be seen in his most familiar conversation ; where his manner, when he was fully called out, was exactly what it was in the pulpit. His mind grasped every subject firmly ; his imagination clothed it with images — embodied it — gave it life — called up numberless associations and illustrations: it was rea- lized: it was present to him: his taste and judgment enabled him to seize it in the most striking points of view. " His apprehensions of religion," Mr. Wilson most justly ob- serves, " were grand and elevated. His fine powers, go- verned by divine grace, were exactly calculated to sieze all the grandeur of the Gospel. The stupendous magnitude of the ob- jects which the Bible proposes to man, the incomparable sublimity of eternal pursuits, the astonishing scheme of redemption by an Incarnate Mediator, the native grandeur of a rational and im- mortal being stamped with the impress of God, the fall of this 150 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. being into sin and poverty and meanness and guilt, his recovery by grace to more than his original dignity in the love and service of his Creator, filled all his soui. He seemed often to labour with an imagination occupied with his noble theme. He felt, and lie taught, that no other subject was worthy the consideration of man. In comparison with it, he led his auditors to condemn and trample on all the petty objects of this lower world. Its meanness, its uncertainty, its deceit, its vanity, its vexation, its nothingness, he set fully in their view. He even made them look down with a generous concern on those who were buried in its interests, and who forgot, amidst the toys of children, the real business of life." Some of his printed sermons are perfect models of simplicity, vivacity, and effect. That, for instance, on the " Power of Faith." His countenance, though not modelled altogether after the artificial rules of beauty, beamed, in animated conversation and in the pulpit, with the beauty of a great and noble mind. Dignity and beuevolence were strongly pourtrayed there. The variety of its expression was admirable: nor could any one feel the full force of the soul which he threw into his discourses, if this expression was concealed from him by distance or situation. His action was graceful and forcible: latterly, owing perhaps to his increasing infirmities and almost uninterrupted pain, it dis- covered, I think, some constraint and want of ease. There was a familiarity and an authority in his man- ner, which to strangers sometimes appeared dogmatism. His manner was, in truth, like that of no other man. It was altoge- ther original : and because it was original, it sometimes offended those who had no other idea of manner than of that to which they had been accustomed. Yet even the prejudiced could not hear him with indifference. There was a dignity and command, a deci- sion and energy, a knowledge of the heart and the world, an uprightness of mind and a desire to do good, and all this united with a tenderness and affection, which few could witness without some favourable impressions. MINISTERIAL. 151 His most striking sermons were generally those, which he preached from very short texts, such as — My soul hangeth on thee — All my fresh springs are in thee — O Lord! teach me thy way — As thy day is, so shall thy strength be. In these sermons, the whole subject had probably struck him at once : and what comes in this way is generally found to be more natural and forcible, than what the mind is obliged to excogitate by its own laborious efforts. As the subject grows out of the state of the mind at the time, there is that degree of affinity between them which occasions the mind to seize it forcibly, and to clothe it with vivid colours. A train of the most natural associations presents itself, as one link draws with it its kindred links. The attention is engaged — the mind is concentrated — scripture and life present themselves with- out effort, in the most natural relations which they bear to the subject, that has full possession of the man, and composition be- comes easy, and even interesting. It was a frequent, and a very useful method with him, to open and explain his subject in a very brief manner, and then to draw inferences from it ; which inferences formed the great body of the sermon, and were rather matters of address to the consciences and hearts of his hearers, than of discussion ; so that the whole subject was a kind of application. This seems to me to have been his most effective manner of preaching. Take an instance : Matt, xviii. 20. I. Explain the words. II, Raise from them two or three remarks; Contemplate 1. The Glory and Godhead of our Master : 2. The honour which He puts on his house and the assembly of His Saints: 3. The privilege of being one of Christ's servants whom He will meet: 4. The obligations lying on such servants — What manner of persons ought such to be! He was remarkably observant of character. When I have asked his opinion of a person, he has frequently surprised me with such a full and accurate delineation of his character, as he could only have obtained by very patient and penetrating observation. The reason of this appeared, when I learnt that it was his custom in his sermon notes, when he wished to describe a particular cha- racter, not to put down its chief features as they occurred to his 152 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. mind from the general observations which he had made on meh ; but he would put down the initial of some person's name, with whom he was well acquainted, and who stood in his mind as the representative of that class of characters. He had nothing to do then, when he came to enlarge on that part of his subject, but strongly to realize to himself the character of the person in ques- tion, and he would draw a much more vivid picture of a real cha- racter than he could otherwise do.* Mr. Cecil was not himself led to the knowledge of God through great terrors of conscience : his ministry did not, there- fore, so much abound in delineations of the working and malig- nity of sin, as in those topics which grew out of his course of experience; nor did he enter frequently or largely into the details of the spiritual conflict. He was himself drawn to God, and subdued by a sense of divine mercy and friendship: he was led, therefore, to detail largely the transactions of the believing mind with God, in the exercise of dependence and submission. He was more aware than most men of the difficulty of BRINGING DOWN THE TRUTH TO THE COMPREHENSION OF THE MASS OF HEARERS. A young Minister may leave College with the best theory in the world, and he make take with him into a country parish a determination to talk in the language of simplicity itself, but the actual capacity to make himself understood and felt is so far re- moved from his former habits, that it is only to be acquired by experience. Hear how wisely Mr. Cecil wrote to a young friend about to take orders ; — " I advised him, since he was so near his entrance into the ministry, to lay aside all other studies for the present, but the one I should now recommend to him. I would have him select some very poor and uninformed persons, and pay thera a visit. His object should be to explain to them and • Lavater somewhere mentions an admirable practice of his own, which carried our friend's principle into constant use in his ministry. He fixed on certain persons in his congregation, whom he considered as representatives of the respective classes into which his hearers might be properly divided— amounting, as 1 recollect, to seven. In compos- ing his discourses, he kept each of these persons steadily in his eye; and laboured so to, mould bis subjects as to meet the case of every one.~by which incomparable rule be ren» dered himself intelligible and interesting to all classes of his flock. MINISTERIAL. 153 demonstrate to them the truth of the solar system. He should first of all set himself to make that system perfectly intelligible to them, and then he should demonstrate it to their full conviction against all that the followers of Tycho Brahe or any one else could say against it. He would tell me it was impossible; they would not understand a single term. Impossible to make them astro- nomers ! And shall it be thought an easy matter to make them understand redemption 1" He gave the following account of his habit of prepara- tion FOR THE PULPIT: — " I generally look into the portions of Scripture appointed by the church to be read in the services of the day. I watch, too, for any new light which may be thrown on passages in the course of reading, conversation, or prayer. I seize the occasions fur- nished by my own experience — my state of mind — my family oc- currences. Subjects taken up in this manner are always likely to meet the cases and wants of some persons in the congregation. Sometimes, however, I have no text prepared : and I have found this to arise generally from sloth: I go to work : this is the se- cret: make it a business: something will arise where least ex- pected. " It is important to begin preparation early. If it is driven off late, accidents may occur which may prevent due attention to the subject. If the latter days of the week are occupied, and the mind driven into a corner, the sermon will usually be raw and undigested. Take time to reject what ought to be rejected, and to supply what ought to be supplied. " It is a favourite method with me to reduce the text to some point of doctrine. On that topic I enlarge, and then apply it. I like to ask myself — ' What are you doing ? — What is your aim V " I will not forestall my own views by first going to commen- tators. I talk over the subject to myself: I write down all that strikes me: and then I arrange what is written. After my plan is settled, and my mind has exhausted its stores, then I would turn to some of my great Doctors to see if I am in no error : but I find it necessary to reject many good things which the Doctors 134 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. say : they will tell to no good effect in a sermon. In truth, to he effective, we must draw more from nature and less from the writ- ings of men : we must study the Book of Providence, the Book of Nature, the Heart of Man, and the Book of God : we must read the History of the World : we must deal with Matters of Fact before our eyes/' In respect to mechanical preparation, Mr. Cecil was in the habit of using eight quarto pages, on which he put down his main and subordinate divisions, with such hints as he thought requi- site. These notes, written in an open and legible manner, such as his eye could catch with ease, he put into one of the portable quarto Bibles, of which several editions were printed in the xviith century, in a good type, but, in consequence of the closeness and excellence of the paper, such as bind up in a very compact size. Of these editions there are some * which are printed page for page with one another ; and one of these editions Mr. Cecil was in the constant habit of using, both in public and in private, from the mechanical assistance afforded to him in turning to passages from the recollection of the part of the page in which they occurred. It will be interesting to hear Mr. Cecil's own account of HIS MANNER OF COMMENCING HIS MINISTRY; as it notices mistakes from which he was not only early but most effectually delivered, and his remarks on them may afford a serious caution to others. " I set out," he said, «« with levity in the pulpit. It was above two years before I could get the victory over it, though I strove under sharp piercings of conscience. My plan was wrong. I had bad counsellors. I thought preaching was only entering the pulpit and letting off a sermon. I really imagined this was trusting to God, and doing the thing cleverly. I talked with a wise and pious man on the subject. * There is nothing/ said he, like appealing to facts.' We sat down, and named names. We found men in my habit disreputable. This first set my mind right. I saw such a man might sometimes succeed : but I saw, at the same time, that whoever would succeed in his general in- * I have compared four of these Bibles, viz. Field's, London, l6-18-.-Hayes's, Camb. IC70, and also that of 1C77— and Buck's, Camb. without date. MINISTERIAL. 155 tcrpretations of Scripture, and would have his ministry that of a tcorkman that needtth not to be ashamed — must be a laborious man. What can be produced by men who refuse this labour? — a few raw notions, harmless perhaps in themselves, but false as stated by them. What then should a young Minister do ? — His office says 'Go to your books. Go to retirement. Go to prayer/ — ' No !' says the enthusiast, ' Go to preach. Go and be a witness !' — A witness ! — of what ? — He don't know !" Thus qualified by nature, education, and grace — enriched by his various manly acquisitions — and matured by experience, he ap- peared in the pulpit unquestionably as one of the first preachers — perhaps the very first preacher — of his time. He was sincerely attached to the church of ENGLAND, both by principle and feeling — to her order and decorum. He entered into the spirit of those obligations, which lay on him as a clergyman ; and, looking at general conse- quences, would never break through the order and discipline of the Church, to obtain any partial, local, and temporary ends. In the more private exercise of his pastoral office, as a counsellor and friend, he manifested great faithfulness, TENDERNESS, and WISDOM. In proof of this I might appeal to what is said in the " Re- mains," on the subject of" Visiting death-beds:" pp. S9, 95. I shall here subjoin a few more illustrations of this part of his character. An interview was contrived between him and a noble Lady, by some of her relations. She began to listen to the affairs of religion. Her life had been gay and trifling. She knew that he understood her situation ; and she began to introduce her case by saying that she supposed he thought her a very contemptible and wicked creature. " No, Madam, I do not look at you in that view. I consider that you have been a wanderer; pursuing happiness in a mistaken road — an immortal being, fluttering through the pre- sent short but important scene, without one serious concern for what is to come after it is passed by. And, while others know what is to happen to them, and wait for it, you are totally igno- 156 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. rant of the subject." — " But, Sir, is it possible to arrive at any certainty with respect to a future condition ?" — " Why what little trifling scenes would occupy your Ladyship and myself, if we were confined to this small spot of a carpet, that is under our feet! The world is a little, mean, despicable scene in itself. But we must leave it : and can you suppose that we are k-ft to step into another state, as into a dark abyss — not knowing what awaits us there ? No — the next step I take from the world is not into a void that no one has explored — a fathomless abyss — a chaos of clouds and darkness — but I know what it is — I am assured of it.'' He said to me in reporting this conversation, " I rested on this, and left it to work on her mind. I thought it better to defer the subject of this assurance to try her, and I have reason to believe that she feels anxious for our next occasion of meeting, that she may hear how we can make out the grounds of our assurance." This is one among many instances of the wise methods in which he accommodated his instructions to the character. " Many of my people," he said, " and especially females, talk thus to me — ' I am under continual distress of mind. I can lay hold of no permanent ground of peace. If I seem to get a little, it is soon gone again. I am out at sea, without compass or an- chor. My heart sinks. My spirit faints. My knees tremble. All is dark above, and all is horror beneath.' — ' And pray what is your mode of life? — ' I sit by myself.' — In this small room, I suppose, and over your fire ? — ' A considerable part of my time.' — ' And what time do you go to bed V — ' I cannot retire till two or three o'clock in the morning.' — ' And you lie late, I suppose, in the morning? — ' Frequently.' — ' And pray what else can you expect from this mode of life, than a relaxed and unstrung system — and, of course, a mind enfeebled, anxious, and disordered? I understand your case. God seems to have qualified me to un- derstand it, by especial dispensations. My natural disposition is gay, volatile, spirited. My nature would never sink. But 1 have sometimes felt my spirit absorbed in horrible apprehensions with- out any assignable natural cause. Perhaps it was necessary I should be suffered to feel this, that I might feel for others; for MINISTERIAL. 157 certainly, no man can have any adequate sympathy with others> who has never thus suffered himself. I can feel for you, there- fore, while I tell you that I think the affair with you is chiefly physical. I myself have brought on the same feelings by the same means. I have sat in my study till I have persuaded myself that the ceiling was too low to suffer me to rise and stand up- right : and air and exercise alone could remove the impression from my miad.' " His taking the charge of St. John's Chapel is the most important event of his Life, as it appears to have been the sphere for which he was peculiarly raised up and prepared by Providence. The circumstances attending his establishment of a serious and devout congregation in this place, mark the strength and simpli- city of his mind ; while they may shew the necessity under which such men will sometimes be brought, of acting for themselves, with perfect independence of the whole body of their brethren. These circumstances he related to me as follows — " When I married, I lived at a small house at Islington, situated in the midst of a garden ; for which I paid 14/. a year. My annual in- come was then only 80/. and, with this, I had to support myself, my wife, and a servant. I was then, indeed, Minister of St. John's, but I received nothing from the place for several of the earlier years. When I was sent thither, I considered that I was sent to the people of that place and neighbourhood. I thought it my duty, therefore, to adopt system and a style of preaching, which should have a tendency to meet their case. All, which they had heard before, was dry, frigid, and lifeless. A high, haughty, stalking spirit characterised the place. I was thrown among men of the world, men of business, men of reading, and men of thought. I began, therefore, with principles. I preached on the Divine Authority of the Sacred Scriptures. I dissected Saurin's Sermons. I took the sinews and substance of some of our most masterly writers. I preached on such texts as — If ye believe not Moses and the Prophets, neither will ye believe though one rosejrom the dead, I set myself to explain terms and phrases. My chief 158 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. object was under-ground work. But what was the consequence of this ? An outcry was raised against me throughout the religious world. It was said, that, at other places, I continued to preach the truth; but that, at St. John's, I was sacrificing it to my hearers. Even my brethren, instead of entering into my reasons and plan, lay on their oars. My protectress turned her back on me. I had hesitated, at first, to enter on so great a risk ; but, with grandeur of spirit, she told me she would put her fortune on the issue ; if any benefit resulted from it, it should be mine, and she would bear me harmless of all loss. She heard me a few times, and then wholly withdrew herself, and even took away her servants. Some of them would now and then steal in ; but, as they reported that they got " no food," the report did but strengthen the prejudices of their mistress. She could not enter into my motives. I was obliged to regard her conduct as Huss did that of the man, who was heaping the faggots round him, O sancie simplicitas ! She could not calculate consequences, and was unmoved even when I placed my conduct in its strongest light — ' Can you attribute any but the purest motives to me ? Ought not the very circumstances to which I voluntarily subject myself by adhering to the plan you condemn, to gain me some credit for my intentions 1 Had I preached here, in the manner I preached elsewhere, you know that the place would have been crowded by the religious world. I should then have obtained from it an income of 200/. or 300/. a year ; whereas I now sit down with little or no advantage from it, though I have a family rising up about me. God sent me hither to preach to this people, and to raise a congregation in this place ; and I am proceeding in that system and way, which seems to me best adapted under God to meet the states of this people ; and, while I am doing this, I bring on myself temporal injury. I can have no possible motive to sacrifice the truth to a few blind pharisees, who will never while I live become my friends/ " I laboured under this desertion of my friends for a long time: it was about seven years, before affairs began to wear such an aspect, that my protectress and others allowed that matters had MINISTERIAL. 159 certainly turned out as they could not have foreseen. Several witnesses rose up of undoubted and authentic character, to testify the power of the grace of God. One circumstance will place the prejudice which existed against me in a strong light. A converted Jewess, avIio had been driven from her father's house on account of her sentiments, and was a woman of great simplicity and devo- tion, refused to accompany a friend to St. John's, because, as she said, she could not worship there spiritually, and rather chose to spend the afternoon among her friend's books ; in which employ- ment, I doubt not, she worshipped God in the spirit, and was accepted of him. For my own satisfaction, I wrote down at large the reasons on which I had formed my conduct, for I was almost driven into my own breast for support and justification. One friend, indeed, stood by me. He saw my plan and entered fully into it ; and said such strong things on the subject, as greatly confirmed my own mind. ' The Church of Christ/ said he, i must sometimes be sacrificed for Christ/ A certain brother preached a Charity Sermon ; and in such a style, that he seemed to say to me ' Were I here, you should see how I would do the thing/ What good he did, I know not ; but some of the evil I know, as several persons forsook the Chapel, and assigned his sermon as the reason ; and others expressed themselves alarmed at the idea of Methodism having crept into the place. It was ill- judged and unkind. He should have entered into my design, or have been silent." About the middle of July, 1800, Mr. Cecil entered on the Livings of Bisley and Chobham in Surry. A few weeks after this I visited him with our dear and mutual friend Dr. Fearon. Here I saw him in a quite different situation from any in which I had seen him before, and was not a little curious to remark the manner in which he would treat a set of plain and homely villagers. Though he was repeatedly in great anguish during the day which we passed with him, yet his mind, in the intervals, was so vigorous and luminous that I have scarcely ever gathered so much from him in an equal time. On this occasion, among other things which are recorded in 160 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. his " Remains," he stated to us his views and feelings respecting his new charge. " Bisley is a rectory. It is completely out of the world. The farmers are all so perfectly untaught, that, when they met me to settle the business of their tythes, there was not one of them able to write. The farmers in these parts are mostly occupiers of their own land. They crowded round me when I first came, and were eager to make bargains with me for the tythe. I told them I was ignorant of such matters, but that I would propose a measure which none of them could object to. The farmers of Bisley should nominate three farmers of Chobham parish ; amd whatever those three Chobham farmers should ap- point me to receive, that they should pay. This was putting myself into their power indeed, but the one grand point with me was to conciliate their minds, and pave the way for the Gospel in these parishes. And so far it answered my purpose. I had desired the three farmers to throw the weight, in dubious cases, into the farmers' scale. After we had settled the business, one of the three, to convince the Bisley farmers that they had acted in the very spirit of my directions, proposed to find a person who would immediately give them 50l. a year for their bargain with me. This has given them an idea that we act npon high and holy motives." What a noble trait is this of his upright and disinterested mind ! One might almost with confidence predict that such an introduction into his parishes was a presage of great usefulness. A minister has no right to wanton away the support of his fa- mily ; but, having secured that, whatever sacrifices he may make with such holy motives as these, will be abundantly repaid ; pro- bably in the success of his ministry, certainly in his Master's approbation and the peace of his own bosom. Those sacrifices of what may be strictly his due, which a narrow and worldly man will refuse to make though he entail discord and feuds on his parish, will be trifles to the mind of a true Christian Minister. The reader will here recollect the conversation on this subject before recorded. " I hardly think it likely that a man could have been received MINISTERIAL. l6l in a more friendly manner than I have been. About 500 people attend at Chobham, and 300 at Bisley. I find I can do any thing with them while I am serious. A baptist preacher had been some where in the neighbourhood before 1 came. He seems to have been wild and eccentric, and to have planted a prejudice in consequence of this in the people's minds, who appear to have had no other notion of methodism than that it was eccentricity. " While I am grave and serious they will allow me to say or do any thing. For instance ; a few Sundays since it rained so prodigiously hard when I had finished my Sermon at B. that I saw it was impracticable for any body to leave the Church. I then told the people that as it was likely to continue for some time, we had better employ ourselves as well as we could, and so I would take up the subject again. I did so ; and they listened to me readily for another half-hour, though I had preached to them three quarters of an hour before I had concluded. AH this they bear, and think it nothing strange ; but one wild brother with one eccentric sermon would do me more mischief than I should be able in many months to cure." A very strong instance of personal attachment to him occurred soon after he took Chobham. A stranger was observed to at- tend church every Sunday, and to leave the village immediately after service was over. Every strange face there was a pheno- menon, and of course the appearance of this man led to enquiry. He was found to be one of his own people at St. John's — a poor, working man, whom the advantages received under his ministry had so knit to his pastor, that he found himself repaid for a weekly journey of fifty miles. Mr. C. remonstrated with him on the inexpediency and impropriety of thus spending his Sabbath, when the pure word of God might be heard so much nearer home. But we must approach the closing scene of this great man's life and labours. No touches need to be added to the affecting picture which Mrs. Cecil has drawn of his gradual descent to the grave. I will only subjoin here some remarks on his views and feelings t M 162 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. with respect to that Gospel of which he had been so long an eminent and successful Minister. His views of Christianity were modified, as has been seen, by his constitution and the circumstances of his life. His dispensa- tion was to meet a particular class of hearers. He was fitted, beyond most men, to assert the reality, dignity, and glory of religion — as contrasted with the vanity, meanness, and glare of the world. This subject he treated like a master. Men of the world felt that they were in the presence of their superior — of one who unmasked their real misery to themselves, and pursued them through all the false refuges of vain and carnal minds. While this was the principal character of Mr. Cecil's ministry, for years, at that place for which he seems to have been specially prepared ; yet he was elsewhere, with equal wisdom, leading ex- perienced Christians forward in their way to heaven : and, lat- terly, the habit of his own mind and the whole system of his ministry were manifestly ripening in those views which are pecu- liar to the Gospel. No man had a more just view of his own ministry than he had ; nor could any one more highly value the excellence which he saw in others, though it was of a different class from his own. " I have been lately selecting," he said to me, " some of C 's Letters for publication. With the utmost difficulty, I have given some little variety. He begins with Jesus Christ, carries Him through, and closes with Him. If a broken leg or arm turns him aside, he seems impatient to dismiss it as an intrusive sub- ject, and to get back again to his topic. I feel, as I read his letters — • Why, you said tin's in the last sentence ! What over and over again ! What nothing else ! No variety of view ! No illustration!' And yet, I confess, that, when I have walked out and my mind has been a good deal exercised on his letters, I have caught a sympathy — • It is one thing, without variety or relief; but this one thing is a talisman!' — I have raised my head — I have trod firmly — my heart has expanded — I have felt wings! Men must not be viewed indiscriminately. To a MINISTERIAL. 16*3 certain degree I produce effect in my way, and with my views. The utter ruin and bankruptcy of man is so wrought into my experience, that I handle this subject naturally. Other men may use God's more direct means as naturally as I can use His more indirect and collateral ones. Every man, however, must rather follow than lead his experience; though, to a certain degree, if he finds his habits diverting him from Jesus Christ as the grand, prominent, only feature, he must force himself to chuse such topics as shall lead his mind to Him. I am obliged to subject myself to this discipline. I frequently chuse subjects and enter into my plan, before I discover that the saviour occupies a part too subordinate: I throw them away, and take up others which point more directly and naturally to Him." In his last illness, he spoke, with great feeling, on the same subject : " That Christianity may be very sincere, which is not sublime. Let a man read Maclaurin's Sermon on the Cross of Christ, and enter into the subject with taste and relish, what beggary is the world to him ! The subject is so high and so glorious, that a man must go out of himself, as it were, to ap- prehend it. The Apostle had such a view when he said / count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord. I remember the time, even after I became really serious in religion, when I could not understand what St. Paul meant — not by setting forth the glory of Christ, but by talking of it in such hyperbolical terms, and always dwelling on the subject: whatever topic he began on, I saw that he could not but glide into the same subject. But I now understand why he did so, and wonder no more; for there is no other subject, comparatively, worthy our thoughts, and therefore it is that advanced Christians dwell on little else. I am fully per- suaded, that the whole world becomes vain and empty to a man, in proportion as he enters into living views of Jesus Christ." His feelings on religion, as they respected his submission to the divine will, were admirably expressed by himself: — " We are servants, and we must not chuse our station. I am now called to go down very low, but I must not resist. God is M2 164 CHARACTER OF REV. RICHARD CECIL. saying to me, ' You have not been doing my work in my way : you have been too hasty. Now sit down, and be content to be a quiet idler: and wait till I give you leave again to go on in your labours'." In respect to his personal comfort, he had said — " I have attained satisfaction as to my state, by a consciousness of change in my own breast, mixed with a consciousness of integrity. Two evidences are satisfactory to me : — 1 . A consciousness of approving God's plan of government in the Gospel. 2. A consciousness, that, in trouble, I run to God as a child." These evidences Mr. C. illustrated even in his diseased mo- ments before his death. On that afflicting dispensation I shall not here dwell, as I think nothing can be added to what my friend, his successor, has so well said in the second of his Fu- neral Sermons, and which Mrs. Cecil has quoted toward the close of her Memoir. Such was Mr. Cecil. I sincerely regret that some masterly observer did not both enjoy and improve opportunities of deli- neating a more perfect picture of his great mind. I have, how- ever, faithfully detailed the impressions which his character made on me, during a long course of affectionate admiration of him : nor have I shrunk from intermingling such remarks, as every faithful observer must find occasion to make while he is watching the unfoldings of the best and greatest of men. Christian parents, and particularly christian mo- thers, may gather from the history and character of our departed friend every possible encouragement to the unwearied care of their children. While St. Austin, Bishop Hall, Richard Hooker, John Newton, Richard Cecil, and many other great and eminent servants of Christ, have left on record their grateful acknowledgments to their pious mothers, as the instruments under the grace and blessing of God, of winning them to himself, let no woman of faith and prayer despair respecting even her most untoward child. MINISTERIAL. l6\5 Mr. Cecil's mere admirers should feel what a weight of responsibility his ministry and his character have laid them under. They gave him the ear, but he laboured for the heart. They were pleased with the man, but he prayed that they might become displeased with themselves. They would aid him in his schemes, but he was anxious that they should serve his Master. How soon must they meet him at that judgment-seat before which all must appear, to receive according to what they have done in the body whether good or evil ! His sincere friends are called to imitate his example — to follow him as he followed Christ — to live above this vain world — to sacrifice every thing to the honour of Christ and the interests of Eternity — to bear up under pain and weariness and anxiety, leaning on Almighty Strength: till they join him in that world where weakness shall be felt no more ! JOSIAH PRATT. REMAINS OF THE REV. RICHARD CECIL. INTRODUCTION. XXE, that has the happy talent of parlour- preaching," says Dr. Watts*, " has sometimes done more for Christ and souls in the space of a few minutes, than by the labour of many hours and days in the usual course of preaching in the pulpit." On my first intercourse with Mr. Cecil, now upward of fifteen years since when in the full vigour of his mind, I was so struck with the wis- dom and originality of his remarks, that I con- sidered it my duty to record what seemed to me most likely to be useful to others. It should be observed that Mr. Cecil is made to speak often of himself; and, to persons who do not consider the circumstances of the case, there may appear much egotism in the quantity of such remarks here put together, and in the manner in which his things are said : but this will be treating him with the most flagrant injustice ; * An Humble Attempt towards the Revival of Religion. Part. I. Sect. 4. t M 5 INTRODUCTION. for it must be remembered that the remarks of this nature were chiefly made by him, from time to time, in answer to my particular enquiries into his judgment and habits on certain points of doc- trine or practice. I have laboured in recording those sentiments which I have gathered from him in conversation, to preserve as much as possible his very expres- sions; and they who were familiar with his man- ner will be able to judge, in general, how far I have succeeded : but I would explicitly disavow an exact verbal responsibility. For the senti- ments I make myself answerable. In some instances I have brought together observations made at different times: the reader is not therefore to understand that the thoughts here collected on any subject always followed in immediate connection. J. P. REMARKS MR. CECIL, CHIEFLY IN CONVERSATION WITH THE EDITOR, DISCUSSIONS WHEN HE WAS PRESENT. " Multa ab eo prudenter disputata, multa etiam breviter et commode dicta memoris mandabam, Jierique studebam ejus prudentid doctior. Cic. de Amicit. I. ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. _l_ HE direct cause of a Christian's spiritual life, is, Union with Christ. All attention to the mere circumstantials of religion, has a tendency to draw the soul away from this union, Few men, except ministers, are called, by the nature of their sta- tion, to enter much into these circumstantials :— such, for instance, as the evidences of the truth of religion. Ministers feel this deadening effect of any considerable or continued attention to exter- nals : much more must private Christians. The head may be strengthened, till the heart is starved. Some private Christians, however, may be called on by the nature of those circles in which they move, to be qualified to meet and refute the ob- jections which may be urged against religion. Such men, as well as ministers, while they are furnishing themselves for this purpose, must ac- quiesce in the work which God appoints for them, 1 72 REMAINS. with prayer and watchfulness. If they cannot always live and abide close to the ark, and the pot of manna, and the cherubims, and the mercy- seat ; yet they are drawing the water and gather- ing the wood necessary for the service of the camp. But let their hearts still turn toward the place where the Glory resideth. The Christian's fellowship with God is rather a habit, than a rapture. He is a pilgrim, who has the habit of looking forward to the light before him : he has the habit of not looking back : he has the habit of walking steadily in the way, whatever be the weather, and whatever the road. These are his habits : and the Lord of the Way is his Guide, Protector, Friend, and Felicity. As the Christian's exigencies arise, he has a spiri- tual habit of turning to God, and saying, with the Church, " Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thoufeedest, where thou makest thy flocks to rest at noon. I have tried to find rest elsewhere. I have fled to shelters, which held out great pro- mise of repose ; but I have now long since learned to turn unto thee : Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, ivhere thoufeedest, where thou makest thy Jlocks to rest at noon''' ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONDUCT. 173 The Christian will look back, throughout eter- nity, with interest and delight, on the steps and means of his conversion. " My Father told me this ! My Mother told me that ! Such an event was sanctified to me ! In such a place God visited my soul !'' These recollections will never grow dull and wearisome. A volume might be written on the various me- thods which God has taken, in Providence, to lead men first to think of Him. The history of a man's own life, is, to himself, the most interesting history in the world, next to that of the scriptures. Every man is an original and solitary character. None can either under- stand or feel the book of his own life like himself. The lives of other men are to him dry and vapid, when set beside his own. He enters very little into the spirit of the Old Testament, who does not see God calling on him to turn over the pages of this history, when he says to the Jew, Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years. He sees God teaching the Jew to look at the records of his deliverance from the Red Sea, of the manna showered down on him from heaven, and of the Amalekites put to flight before him. There are 1 74 REMAINS. such grand events in the life and experience of every Christian. It may be well for him to review them often. I have, in some cases, vowed before God to appropriate yearly remembrances of some of the signal turns of my life. Having made the vow, I hold it as obligatory : but I would advise others to greater circumspection ; as they may bring a galling yoke on themselves, which God designed not to put on them. True grace is a growing principle. The Chris- tian grows in discernment: a child may play with a serpent; but the man gets as far from it as he can : a child may taste poison ; but the man will not suffer a speck of poison near him. He grows in humility: the blade shoots up boldly, and the young ear keeps erect with confi- dence ; but the full corn in the ear inclines itself toward the earth, not because it is feebler, but because it is matured. He grows in strength: the new wine ferments and frets; but the old wine acquires a body and a firmness. Tenderness of conscience is always to be dis- tinguished from Scrupulousness. The conscience cannot be kept too sensible and tender: but scru- pulousness arises from bodily or mental infirmity, ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 175 and discovers itself in a multitude of ridiculous, and superstitious, and painful feelings. The head is dull, in discerning the value of God's expedients : and the heart cold, sluggish, and re- luctant, in submitting to them : but the head is lively, in the invention of its own expedients ; and the heart eager and sanguine, in the pursuit of them. No wonder, then, that God subjects both the head and the heart to a course of conti- nual correction. Every man will have his own criterion in forming his judgment of others. I depend very much on the effect of affliction. I consider how a man comes out of the furnace: gold will lie for a month in the furnace without losing a grain. And, while under trial, a child has a habit of turning to his father: he is not like a penitent, who has been whipped into this state : it is natural to him. It is dark, and the child has no whither to run, but to his father. Defilement is inseparable from the world. A man can no where rest his foot on it without sinking. A strong principle of assimilation com- bines the world and the heart together. There 176 REMAINS. are, especially, certain occasions, when the cur- rent hurries a man away, and he has lost the reli- gious government of himself. When the pilot finds, on making the port of Messina, that the ship will not obey the helm, he knows that she is got within the influence of that attraction, which will bury her in the whirlpool. We are to avoid the danger, rather than to oppose it. This is a great doctrine of Scripture. An active force against the world is not so much inculcated, as a retreating, declining spirit. Keep thyself tin- spotted from the world. There are seasons when a Christian's distin- guishing character is hidden from man. A Chris- tian merchant on 'Change is not called to shew any difference in his mere exterior carriage from another merchant. He gives a reasonable answer if he is asked a question. He does not fanatically intrude religion into every sentence he utters. He does not suppose his religion to be inconsistent with the common interchange of civilities. He is affable and courteous. He can ask the news of the day, and take up any public topic of conver- sation. But is he, therefore, not different from other men? He is like another merchant in the mere exterior circumstance, which is least in God's regard; — but, in his taste! — his views!— his science!— his hopes! — his happiness! he is as on the christian life and CONFLICT. 177 different from those around him as light is from darkness. He waits for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, who never passes perhaps through the thoughts of those he talks with, but to be neglected and despised ! The Christian is called to be like Abraham, in conduct ; like Paul, in labours ; and like John, in spirit. Though, as a man of faith, he goes forth not knowing whither, and his principle is hidden from the world, yet he will oblige the world to acknowledge: " His views, it is true, we do not understand. His principles and ge- neral conduct are a mystery to us. But a more upright, noble, generous, disinterested, peace- able, and benevolent man, we know not where to find." The world may even count him a mad- man ; and false brethren may vilify his character, and calumniate his motives : yet he will bear down evil, by repaying good; and will silence his ene- mies, by the abundance of his labours. He may be shut out from the world — cast into prison — banished into obscurity — no eye to observe him, no hand to help him — but it is enough for him, if his Saviour will speak to him and smile on him ! Christians are too little aware what their re- ligion requires from them, with regard to their t N 178 REMAINS. wishes. When we wish things to be otherwise than they are, we lose sight of the great practical parts of the life of godliness. We wish, and wish— when, if we have done all that lies on us, we should fall quietly into the hands of God. Such wishing cuts the very sinews of our privi- leges and consolations. You are leaving me for a time ; and you say you wish you could leave me better, or leave me with some assistance : but, if it is right for you to go, it is right for me to meet what lies on me, without a wish that I had less to meet, or were better able to meet it. I could write down twenty cases, wherein I wished God had done otherwise than he did; but which I now see, had I had my own will, would have led to extensive mischief. The life of a Christian is a life of paradoxes. He must lay hold on God: he must follow hard after him: he must determine not to let him go. And yet he must learn to let God alone. Quietness before God is one of the most difficult of all Christian graces — to sit where he places us ; to be what he would have us be, and this as long as He pleases. We are like a player at bowls : if he has given his bowl too little bias, he cries, " Flee :" if he has given it too much, he cries, " Rub :" you see him lifting his leg, and bending his body, in conformity to the motion he would impart to the bowl. Thus ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 179 I have felt with regard to my dispensations : I would urge them or restrain them: I would assi- milate them to the habit of my mind. But I have smarted for this under severe visitations. It may seem a harsh, but it is a wise and gracious dispen- sation toward a man, when, the instant he stretches out his hand to order his affairs, God forces him to withdraw it. Concerning what is morally good or evil, we are sufficiently informed for our di- rection ; but, concerning what is naturally good or evil, we are ignorance itself. Restlessness and self-will are opposed to our duty in these cases. Schooling the heart is the grand means of personal religion. To bring motives under faithful examination, is a high state of religious character: with regard to the depravity of the heart we live daily in the disbelief of our own creed. We in- dulge thoughts and feelings, which are founded upon the presumption that all around us are im- perfect and corrupted, but that we are exempted. The self-will and ambition and passion of public characters in the religious world, all arise from this sort of practical infidelity. And, though its effects are so manifest in these men, because they are leaders of parties, and are set upon a pinnacle so that all who are without the influence of their vortex can see them ; yet every man's own breast N2 180 REMAINS. has an infallible, dogmatizing, excommunicating, and anathematizing spirit working within. Acting from the occasion, without recollection and inquiry, is the death of personal religion. It will not suffice merely to retire to the study or the closet. The mind is sometimes, in private, most ardently pursuing its particular object; and, as it then acts from the occasion, nothing is further from it than recollectedness. I have, for weeks together, in pursuit of some scheme, acted so en- tirely from the occasion, that, when I have at length called myself to account, I have seemed like one awaked from a dream. " Am I the man, who could think and speak so and so? Am I the man who could feel such a disposition, or discover such conduct?" The fascination and enchant- ment of the occasion is vanished; and I stand like David in similar circumstances before Nathan. Such cases in experience are, in truth, a moral intoxication : and the man is only then sober, when he begins to school his heart. The servant of God has not only natural sensibi- lities, by which he feels, in common with other men, the sorrows of life ; but he has moral sensi- bilities, which are peculiar to his character. When David was driven from his kingdom, he not only felt depressed as an exile and wanderer ; but he would recollect his own sin as punished in the ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 181 affliction. Eli had not only to suffer the pangs of a father in the loss of his sons; but he would recal, with bitterness of spirit, his own misma- nagement, in bringing up these sons. St. Paul had not only to endure the thorn in the flesh ; but he would feel that he carried about him propen- sities to self-exaltation, which rendered that thorn necessary and salutary. Dangerous predicaments are the brinks of temptation. A man often gives evidence to others that he is giddy, though he is not aware of it perhaps himself. Whoever has been in danger himself, will guess very shrewdly concerning the dangerous state of such a man. A haughty spirit is a symptom of extreme dan- ger : — A haughty spirit goeth before a fall. Presumptuous carelessness indicates danger. "Who fears?" — This is to be feared, that you feel no cause of fear. Such was Peter's state : Though all men forsake thee, yet will not I. Venturing on the borders of danger is much akin to this. A man goes on pretty well till he ventures within the atmosphere of danger; but the atmosphere of danger infatuates him. The ship is got within the influence of the vortex, and will not obey the helm. David was sitting in this atmosphere on the house-top, and was ensnared and fell. 182 REMAINS. An accession of wealth is a dangerous predica- ment for a man. At first he is stunned, if the accession be sudden : he is very humble and very grateful. Then he begins to speak a little louder, people think him more sensible, and soon he thinks himself so. A man is in imminent danger when, in suspected circumstances, he is disposed to equivocate, as Abraham did with Pharaoh, and Isaac with Abimelech. Stupidity of conscience under chastisement — an advancement to power, when a man begins to relish such power — popularity — self-indulgence — a disposition to gad about, like Dinah — all these are symptoms of spiritual danger. A change of circumstances in our condition of life is a critical period. No man who has not passed through such a change, can form any ade- quate notion of its effects upon the mind. When money comes into the pocket of a poor man in small sums, it goes out as it came in, and more follows it in the same way; and, with a certain freedom and indifference, it is applied to its proper uses : but when he begins to receive round sums, that may yield him an interest, and when this interest comes to be added to his principal, and the sweets of augmentation to creep over him, it is quite a new world to him. In a rise of circum- ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 183 stances too the man becomes, in his own opinion, a wiser man, a greater man ; and pride of station crosses him in his way. Nor is the contrary change less dangerous. Poverty has its trials. That is a fine trait in the Pilgrim's Progress, that Christian stumbled in going down the Hill into the Valley of Humiliation. A sound head, a simple heart, and a spirit de- pendent on Christ, will suffice to conduct us in every variety of circumstances. I cannot look through my past life without trembling. A variation in my circumstances has been attended with dangers and difficulties, little of which I saw at the time compared with what reflection has since shewn me, but which in the review of them make me shudder, and ought to fill me with gratitude. He, who views this sub- ject aright, will put up particular prayers against sudden attacks. God will have the Christian thoroughly humbled and dependent. Strong minds think perhaps sometimes, that they can effect great things in experience by keeping themselves girt up, by the recurrence of habit, by vigorous exertion. This is 184 REMAINS. their unquestionable duty. But God often strips them, lest they should grow confident. He lays them bare — He makes them feel poor, dark, im- potent. He seems to say, " Strive with all your vigour, but yet I am He that worketh all in all." There is no calling or profession, however en- snaring in many respects to a Christian mind, provided it be not in itself simply unlawful, wherein God has not frequently raised up faithful witnesses, who have stood forth as examples to others, in like situations, of the practicability of uniting great eminence in the Christian Life with the discharge of the duties of their profession, however difficult. Fear has the most steady effect on the constitu- tional temperament of some Christians, to keep them in their course. A strong sense of duty fixes on the minds of others, and is the prevailing principle of conduct, without any direct reference to consequences. On minds of a stubborn, re- fractory, and self-willed temper, fear and duty have in general little effect: they brave fear, and a mere sense of duty is a cold and lifeless principle ; but gratitude, under a strong and subduing sense of mercies, melts them into obedience. ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 185 There is a large class, who would confound nature and grace. These are chiefly women. They sit at home, nursing themselves over a fire, and then trace up the natural effects of solitude and want of air and exercise into spiritual deser- tion. There is more pride in this than they are aware of. They are unwilling to allow so simple and natural a cause of their feelings; and wish to find something in the thing more sublime. There are so many things to lower a man's top- sails — he is such a dependent creature — he is to pay such court to his stomach, his food, his sleep, his exercise — that, in truth, a Hero is an idle word. Man seems formed to be a Hero in Suf- fering — not a Hero in Action. Men err in nothing more than in the estimate which they make of human labour. The Hero of the world is the man that makes a bustle — the man that makes the road smoke under his chaise-and-four — the man that raises a dust about him — the man that manages or devastates empires ! But what is the real labour of this man — compared with that of a silent sufferer ? He lives on his projects. He encounters, perhaps, rough roads — incommodious inns — bad food — storms and perils — weary days and sleepless nights : — but what are these ! — his project — his point — the thing that has laid hold on his heart — glory — a name — consequence — 186 REMAINS. pleasure — wealth — these render the man callous to the pains and efforts of the body ! I have been in both states, and therefore understand them ; and I know that men form this false estimate. Besides — there is something in bustle, and stir, and activity, that supports itself. At one period, I preached and read five times on a Sunday, and rode sixteen miles. But what did it cost me ? Nothing ! Yet most men would have looked on while I was rattling from village to village, with all the dogs barking at my heels, and would have called me a Hero: whereas, if they were to look at me now, they would call me an idle, lounging fellow. " He makes a Sermon on the Saturday — he gets into his study — he walks from end to end — he scribbles on a scrap of paper — he throws it away, and scribbles on another — he takes snuff — he sits down — scribbles again — walks about. — " The man cannot see that here is an exhaustion of the spirit, which, at night, will leave me worne to the extremity of endurance. He cannot see the numberless efforts of mind, which are crossed, and stifled, and recoil on the spirits ; like the fruitless efforts of a traveller to get firm footing among the ashes on the steep sides of Mount Etna.* Elijah appears to have been a man of what we call a great spirit: yet we never find him rising * See the Adventurer, No. cxxvii. J. P. ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 187 against the humiliating methods, which God was sometimes pleased to take with him ; whether he is to depend for his daily food on the ravens, or is to be nourished by the slender pittance of a perishing widow. Pride would choose for us such means of provision, as have some appearance of our own agency in them : and stouthearted- ness would lead us to refuse things, if we cannot have them in our own way. The blessed man is he, who is under education in God's school ; where he endures chastisement, and by chastisement is instructed. The foolish creature is bewitched, sometimes, with the en- chantments and sorceries of life. He begins to lose the lively sense of that something, which is superior to the glory of the world. His grovel- ling soul begins to say, " Is not this fine ? Is not that charming ? Is not that noble house worth a wish ? Is not that equipage worth a sigh ?" He must go to the word of God to know what a thing is worth. He must be taught there to call things by their proper names. If he have lost this habit, when his heart puts the questions he will answer them like a fool ; as I have done a thousand times. He will forget that God puts his children into possession of these things, as mere stewards ; and that the possession of them increases their respon- sibility. He will sit down, and plan and scheme 138 REMAINS. to obtain possession of things, which he forgets are to be burnt and destroyed. But God dashes the fond scheme in pieces. He disappoints the project. And, with the chastisement, he sends instruction : for he knows that the silly creature, if left to himself, would begin, like the spider whose web has been swept away, to spin it again. And then the man sees that Job is blessed — not when God gives him sons, and daughters, and flocks, and herds, and power, and honour; but when God takes all these away — not, when the schemes of his carnal heart are indulged ; but when they are crossed and disappointed. A stubborn and rebellious mind in a Christian, must be kept low by dark and trying dispensa- tions. The language of God, in his providence, to such an one, is generally of this kind : " I will not wholly hide myself. I will be seen by thee. But thou shalt never meet me, except in a dark night and in a storm." Ministers of such a na- tural spirit are often fitted for eminent usefulness by these means. The Christian, in his sufferings, is often tempted to think himself forgotten. But his afflictions are the clearest proofs, that he is an object both of Satan's enmity, and of God's fatherly discipline,. ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 189 Satan would not have man suffer a single trouble all his life long, if he might have his way. He would give him the thing his heart is set upon. He would work in with his ambition. He would pamper his lust and his pride. But God has better things in reserve for his children : and they must be brought to desire them and seek them ; and this will be through the wreck and sacrifice of all that the heart holds dear. The Christian prays for fuller manifestations of Christ's power and glory and love to him ; but he is often not aware, that this is, in truth, praying to be brought into the furnace : for in the furnace only it is, that Christ can walk with his friends, and display, in their preservation and deliverance, his own almighty power. Yet, when brought thither, it is one of the worst parts of the trial, that the Chris- tian often thinks himself, for a time at least, aban- doned. Job thought so. But while he looked on himself as an outcast, the Infinite Spirit and the Wicked Spirit were holding a dialogue on his case ! He was more an object of notice and interest, than the largest armies that were ever assembled, and the mightiest revolutions that ever shook the world, considered merely in their tem- poral interests and consequences. Let the Chris- tian be deeply concerned, in all his trials, to honour his Master before such observers ! 190 REMAINS. Affliction has a tendency, especially if long- continued, to generate a kind of despondency and ill-temper: and spiritual incapacity is closely con- nected with pain and sickness. The spirit of prayer docs not necessarily come with affliction. If this be not poured out upon the man, he will, like a wounded beast, skulk to his den and growl there. God has marked implicitness and simplicity of faith with peculiar approbation. He has done this throughout the Scripture ; and he is doing it daily in the Christian Life. An unsus- pecting, unquestioning, unhesitating spirit he de- lights to honour. He does not delight in a credu- lous, weak, and unstable mind. He gives us full evidence, when he calls and leads ; but he expects to find in us — what he himself bestows — an open ear and a disposed heart. Though he gives us not the evidence of sense ; yet he gives such evi- dence as will be heard by an open ear, and fol- lowed by a disposed heart : Thomas ! because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they, that have not seen, and yet have believed. We are witnesses what an open ear and a disposed heart will do in men of the world. If wealth is in pur- suit — if a place presents itself before them — if their persons and families and affairs are the object — a whisper, a hint, a probability, a mere ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 191 chance, is a sufficient ground of action. It is this very state of mind with regard to religion, which God delights in and honours. He seems to put forth a hand, and to say — " Put thy hand into mine. Follow all my leadings. Keep thy- self attentive to every turn." A sound heart is an excellent casuist. Men stand doubting what they shall do, while an evil heart is at the bottom. If, with St. Paul, they simply did one thing; the way would be plain. A miser, or an ambitious man, knows his points ; and he has such a simplicity in the pursuit of them, that you seldom find him at a loss about the steps which he should take to attain them. He has acquired a sort of instinctive habit in his pursuit. Simplicity and rectitude would have prevented a thousand schisms in the Church; which have generally risen from men having some- thing else in plan and prospect, and not the one thing'. WHAT I do, thou knoivest not now; but thou shalt knoiv hereafter— \s the unvaried language of God, in his providence. He will have credit every step. He will not assign reasons, because he will exercise faith. 192 REMAINS. Pride urges men to enquire into the philosophy of Divine Truth. They are not contented, for example, with the account which the Bible gives of the origin of evil, and its actual influence on mankind ; but they would supply what God has left untold. They would explain the fitness and propriety of things. A mathematician may sum- mon his scholars round his chair, and from self- evident principles deduce and demonstrate his conclusions: he has axioms; but concerning evil we have none. A Christian may say on this sub- ject, as Sir Christopher Wren did concerning the roof of King's College Chapel — " Shew me how to fix the first stone, and I will finish the building' — " Explain the origin of evil, and I will explain every other difficulty respecting evil." We are placed in a disposition and constitution of things, under a Righteous Governor. If we will not rest satisfied with this, something is wrong in our state of mind. It is a solid satisfaction to every man who has been seduced into foolish enquiries, that it is utterly impossible to advance one inch by them. He must come back to rest in God's ap- pointment. He must come back to sit patiently, meekly, and with docility at the feet of a teacher. Duties are ours : events are God's. This re- moves an infinite burden from the shoulders of a ON THE CHRISTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 193 miserable, tempted, dying creature. On this con- sideration only, can he securely lay down his head and close his eyes. The Christian often thinks, and schemes, and talks, like a practical Atheist. His eye is so conversant with Second Causes, that the Great Mover is little regarded. And yet those senti- ments and that conduct of others, by which his affairs are influenced, are not formed by chance and at random. They are attracted toward the system of his affairs or repelled from them, by the Highest Power. We talk of attraction in the Universe; but there is no such thing, as we are accustomed to consider it. The natural and moral worlds are held together, in their respective oper- ations, by an Incessant Administration. It is the mighty grasp of a controuling hand, which keeps every thing in its station. Were this controul suspended, there is nothing adequate to the pre- servation of harmony and affection between my mind and that of my dearest friend, for a single hour. Lord Chesterfield tells his son, that, when he entered into the world and heard the conjectures and notions about public affairs, he was surprised at their folly ; because he was in the secret, and knew what was passing in the Cabinet. We VOL. Ill, O 194 REMAINS. negotiate. We make treaties. We make war. We cry for peace. We have public hopes and fears. We distrust one minister, and we repose on ano- ther. We recal one General or Admiral, because he has lost the national confidence, and we send out another with a full tide of hopes and expecta- tions. We find something in men and measures, as the sufficient cause of all sufferings or anticipa- tions. — But a religious man enters the Cabinet. He sees, in all public fears and difficulties, the pressure of God's hand. So long as this pressure continues, he knows that we may move heaven and earth in vain : every thing is bound up in icy fet- ters. But, when God removes his hand, the waters flow; measures avail, and hopes are accomplished. We are too apt to forget our actual dependence on Providence, for the circumstances of every instant. The most trivial events may determine our state in the world. Turning up one street instead of another, may bring us into company with a person whom we should not otherwise have met; and this may lead to a train of other events, which may determine the happiness or misery of our lives. Light may break in upon a man after he has t*ken a particular step ; but he will not condemn himself for the step taken in a less degree of light : he may hereafter see still better than he now does, and have reason to alter his opinion again. It is ON THE CHIRSTIAN LIFE AND CONFLICT. 19£ enough to satisfy us of our duty, if we are con- scious, that, at the time we take a step, we have an adequate motive. If we are conscious of a wrong motive, or of a rash proceeding, for such steps we must expect to suffer. Trouble or difficulty befalling us after any par- ticular step, is not, of itself, an argument that the step was wrong. A storm overtook the disciples in the ship ; but this was no proof that they had done wrong to go on board. Esau met Jacob, and occasioned him great fear and anxiety, when he left Laban ; but this did not prove him to have done wrong in the step which he had taken. Diffi- culties are no ground of presumption against us, when we did not run into them in following our own will: yet the Israelites were with difficulty convinced that they were in the path of duty, when they found themselves shut in by the Red Sea. Christians, and especially ministers, must expect troubles : it is in this way that God leads them : he conducts them " per ardua ad astra." They would be in imminent danger if the multi- tude at all times cried Hosanua ! We must remember that we are short-sighted creatures. We are like an unskilful chess-player, who takes the next piece, while a skilful one looks further. He, who sees the end from the beginning, will often appoint us a most inexplicable way to walk in. Joseph was put into the pit and the dun- geon: but this was the way which led to the throne. 02 196 REMAINS. We often want to know too much and too soon. We want the light of to-morrow, but it will not come till to-morrow. And then a slight turn, perhaps, will throw such light on our path, that we shall be astonished we saw not our way before. "I can wait," says Lavater. This is a high attainment. We must labour, therefore, to be quiet in that path, from which we cannot recede without danger and evil. There is not a nobler sight in the world, than an aged and experienced Christian, who, having been sifted in the sieve of temptation, stands forth as a confirmer of the assaulted — testifying, from his own trials, the reality of religion ; and meeting, by his warnings and directions and consolations, the cases of all who may be tempted to doubt it. The Christian expects his reward, not as due to merit; but as connected, in a constitution of grace, with those acts which grace enables him to perform. The pilgrim, who has been led to the gate of heaven, will not knock there as worthy of being admitted; but the gate shall open to him, because he is brought thither. He, who sows, even with tears, the precious seed of faith, hope, and love, shall doubtless come again with joy, and bring his sheaves ivith him; because it is in the very nature of that seed, to yield, under the kindly influence secured to it, a joyful harvest. on SUBJECTS CONNECTED TTITH THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. ON A MINISTER'S QUALIFYING HIMSELF FOR HIS OFFICE. W HEN a young Minister sets out, he should sit down and ask himself how he may best QUALIFY HIMSELF FOR HIS OFFICE. How does a physician qualify himself? It is not enough that he offers to feel the pulse. He must read, and enquire, and observe, and make expe- riments, and correct himself again and again. He must lay in a stock of medical knowledge before he begins to feel the pulse. The Minister is a Physician of a far higher order. He has a vast field before him. He has to study an infinite variety of constitutions. He is to furnish himself with the knowledge of the whole system of remedies. He is to be a man of skill and expedient. If one thing fail, he must know how to apply another. Many intricate and perplexed cases will come before him : it will be disgraceful to him not to be prepared for such. His patients will put many questions to him : it will be disgraceful to him not to be prepared to 200 REMAINS. answer them. He is a merchant embarking in extensive concerns. A little ready money in the pocket will not answer the demands that will be made upon him. Some of us seem to think it will, but they are grossly deceived. There must be a well-furnished account at the banker's. But it is not all gold that glitters. A young Minister must learn to separate and select his materials. A man who talks to himself will find out what suits the heart of man : some things respond: they ring again. Nothing of this nature is lost on mankind : it is worth its weight in gold, for the service of a Minister. He must remark, too, what it is that puzzles and distracts the mind : all this is to be avoided : it may wear the garb of deep research, and great acumen, and extensive learning; but it is nothing to the mass of mankind. One of the most important considerations in making a sermon, is to disembarrass it as much as possible. The sermons of the last century were like their large, unweildy chairs. Men have now a far more true idea of a chair. They consider it as a piece of furniture to sit upon, and they cut away from it every thing that em- barrasses and encumbers it. It requires as much reflection and wisdom to know what is not to be put into a sermon, as what is. A young Minister should likewise look round him, that he may see what has succeeded and what has not. Truth is to be his companion, but ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 201 he is to clothe her so as to gain her access. Truth must never bow to fashion or prejudice ; but her garb may be varied. No man was ever eminently successful in his ministry, who did not make Truth his friend. Such a man might not see her, indeed, in all her beauty and proportions ; but, certainly, he saw and loved her. A young Minister should remember that she does not wear the dress of a party. Wherever she is, she is one and the same, however variously men may array her. He, who is ignorant of her prominent and distinguishing features, is like a musician who plays half score : it grates on every well-formed ear; as fatal error finds no corresponding vibration in the renewed heart. Truth forms an immediate acquaintance with such a heart, by a certain fitness and suitable- ness to its state and feelings. She is something different from the picture which a Churchman draws of her. A Dissenter misses her perfect figure. A Frenchman distorts her features in one way, and an Englishman in another. Every one makes his own cast and colour too essential to her. Knowledge, then, and Truth, are to be the constant aim of a young Minister. But where shall he find them? Let him learn from a fool, if a fool can teach him anything. Let him be every where and always a learner. He should imitate Gainsborough. Gainsborough transfused Nature into his landscapes, beyond almost any of 202 REMAINS. his contemporaries; because Gainsborough was every where the painter. Every remarkable fea- ture or position of a tree — every fine stroke of Nature — was copied into his pocket-book on the spot ; and, in his next picture, appeared with a life and vivacity and nature, Avhich no strength of memory or imagination could have supplied. There is a certain wise way, too, in which he should accustom himself to look down on the pursuits of all other men. No man of eminence in his profession is destitute of such a partial feeling for his profession ; though his judgment may remonstrate with him thereon, as an un- founded partiality. The Minister, however, is required so to view all other pursuits. He alone is the man, whose aim is Eternity. He alone is the man whose office and profession, in all their parts, are raised into dignity and importance by their direct reference to Eternity. For Eternity he schemes, and plans, and labours. He should become a philosopher also. He should make experiments on himself and others, in order to find out what will produce effect. He is a fisherman ; and the fisherman must fit himself to his employment. If some fish will bite only by day, he must fish by day : if others will bite only by moon-light, he must fish for them by moon- light. He has an engine to work, and it must be his most assiduous endeavour to work his engine to the full extent of its powers : and, to find out ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 203 its powers, is the first step toward success and effect. Many men play admirably on the organ, if you would allow to them that there is no differ- ence between an organ and a harpsichord, but they have utterly mistaken its powers. Combi- nation is the unrivalled excellence of the organ; and therefore he only can display its powers, who studies the chords and stops in all their infinite variety of resolution and composition, rather than the rapid motion of his fingers only. But all the Minister's efforts will be vanity, or worse than vanity, if he have not Unction. Unction must come down from heaven, and spread a savour and relish and feeling over his ministry. And, among all the other means of qualifying himself for his office, the Bible must hold the first place, and the last also must be given to the word of God and prayer. ASSISTANCE WHICH A MINISTER HAS REASON TO EXPECT IN THE DISCHARGE OF HIS PUBLIC DUTY. J\jlEN have carried their views on this subject to extremes. Enthusiasts have said that learn- ing, and that studying and writing sermons, have injured the Church. The accurate men have said, " Go and hear one of these enthusiasts hold forth!" But both classes may be rendered useful. Let each correct its evils, yet do its work in its own way. Some men set up exorbitant notions about ac- curacy. But exquisite accuracy is totally lost on mankind. The greater part of those who hear, cannot be brought to see the points of the accurate man. The Scriptures are not written in this man- ner. I should advise a young Minister to break through all such cobwebs, as these unphilosophical men would spin round him. An humble and ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 205 modest man is silenced, if he sees one of these critics before him. He should say, " I am God's servant. To my own Master I stand or fall. I will labour according to the utmost ability which God giveth, and leave all consequences to him." We are especially taught in the New Testament, to glorify the Spirit of God : and, in his gracious operations in our ministry, we are nearer the Apos- tolic Times than we often think ourselves. But this assistance is to be expected by us, as labourers in the vineyard ; not as rhapsodists. Idle men may be pointed out, who have abused the doctrine of divine assistance ; but what has not been abused? We must expect a special blessing to accompany the truth : not to supersede labour, but to rest on and accompany labour. A Minister is to be in season, and out of season; and, therefore, every where a Minister. He will not employ himself in writing secular histories : he will not busy himself in prosecuting mathe- matical enquiries. He will labour directly in his high calling ; and indirectly, in a vast variety of ways, as he may be enabled : and God may bless that word in private, which may have been long- heard in public in vain. A Minister should satisfy himself in saying, " It matters not what men think of my talents. Am I doing what I can ?" — for there is great en- couragement in that commendation of our Lord's, 206 REMAINS. She hath done ivhat she could. It would betray a wrong state of mind to say, " If I had discharged my duty in such and such a way, I should have succeeded." This is a carnal spirit. If God bless the simple manner in which you spoke, that will do good ; if not, no manner of speaking could have done it. There is such a thing in the religious world as a cold, carnal wisdom: every thing must be nicely weighed in the scales : every thing must be exactly measured by the rule. I question if this is not worse, in its consequences, than the enthusiasm which it opposes. Both are evil, and to be shun- ned. But I scarcely ever knew a preacher or writer of this class who did much good. We are to go forth, expecting the excellency of God's poiver to accompany us, since we are but earthen vessels: and if, in the Apostolic days, dili- gence was necessary, how much more requisite is it now! But, to the exercise of this diligence, a suffi- ciency in all things is promised. What does a Minister require ? In all these respects the pro- mise is applicable to him. He needs, for instance, courage and patience : he may, therefore, expect that the Holy Spirit will enable him for the exer- cise of these graces. A Minister may expect more superintendence, more elevation, than a hearer. It can scarcely ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 207 be questioned that he ought to pray for this : if so, he has a ground in Scripture thus to pray. I have been cured of expecting the Holy Spirit's influence without due preparation on our part, by observing how men preach who take up that error. I have heard such men talk nonsense by the hour. We must combine Luther with St. Paul — " Bene orasse est bene studuisse" must be united with St. Paul's Meditate upon these things : give thyself ivholly to them, that thy profiting may appear to all. One errs who says, " I will preach a reputable sermon :" and another errs who says, " I will leave all to the assistance of the Holy Spirit," while he has neglected a diligent pre- paration. ON PREACHING CHRIST. " We preach Christ Crucified." 1 Cor. i. 23. VyHRIST is God's great ordinance. Nothing ever has been done, nor will be done to purpose, but so far as He is held forth with simplicity. All the lines must centre in Him. I feel this in my own experience, and therefore I govern my Mi- nistry by it : but then this is to be done according to the Analogy of Faith — not ignorantly, absurdly, and falsely. I doubt not, indeed, but that excess on this side is less pernicious than excess on the other ; because God will bless His own especial Ordinance, though partially understood and par- tially exhibited. There are many weighty reasons for rendering Christ prominent in our Ministry : — 1. Christ chears the prospect. Every thing con- nected with Him has light and gladness thrown round it. I look out of my window: — the scene ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 209 is scowling — dark — frigid — forbidding: I shud- der: my heart is chilled. But, let the Sun break forth from the cloud — I can feel — I can act— I can spring. 2. God descending and dwelling with man, is a truth so infinitely grand, that it must absorb all other. " You are His attendants! Well! But the king ! There he is! — the king !" 3. Out of Christ God is not intelligible, much less amiable. Such men as Clarke and Abernethy talk sublime nonsense. A sick woman said to me — ' Sir! I have no notion of God. I can form no notion of Him. You talk to me about Him, but I cannot get a single idea that seems to contain anything' — But you know how to conceive of Jesus Christ as a man ! God comes down to you in Him, full of kindness and condescension. ' Ah ! Sir, that gives me something to lay hold on. There I can rest. I understand God in His Son.' But if God is not intelligible out of Christ, much less is He amiable, though I ought to feel Him so. He is an object of horror and aversion to me, cor- rupted as I am ! I fear — I tremble — I resist — I hate— I rebel. 4. A preacher may pursue his Topic, without being led by it to Christ. A man who is accus- tomed to investigate topics is in danger. He takes up his topic, and pursues it. He takes up another, and pursues it. At length Jesus Christ becomes his topic, and then he pursues that. If t P 2 1 REMAINS. he cannot so feel and think as to bend all subjects naturally and gracefully to Christ, he must seek his remedy in selecting such as are more evangelical. 5. God puts peculiar honour on the preaching of Christ crucified. A philosopher may philosophize his hearers, but the preaching of Christ must convert them. John the Baptist will make his hearers tremble ; but, if the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he, let him exhibit that peculiar feature of his superiority — Jesus Christ. Men may preach Christ ignorantly — blunderingly — absurdly: yet God will give it efficacy, be- cause He is determined to magnify his own ordinance. (j. God seems, in the doctrine of the Cross, to design the destruction of mans pride. Even the murderer and the adulterer sometimes become subjects of the grace of the Gospel, because the murderer and adulterer are more easily convinced and humbled : but the man of virtue is seldom reached, because the man of virtue disdains to descend. Remember me, saved a dying malefactor! — God, I thank Thee, condemned a proud Pharisee ! Every Minister should therefore enquire, "What IS FOR ME THE WISEST WAY OF PREACHING CHRIST to men ?" Some seem to think that in the choice ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 211 of a wise way, there lurks always a trimming disposition. There are men, doubtless, who will sacrifice to Self, even Christ Jesus the Lord: but they, of all men, are farthest from the thing. There is a secret in doing it, which none but an honest man can discover. The knave is not half wise enough. We are not to judge one another in these things. Sufficient it is to us, to know what we have to do. There are different ways of doing the same thing, and that with success and acceptance. We see this in the Apostles themselves. They not only preached Christ in different ways; but, what is more, they could not do this like one another. They declare this fact themselves; and acknow- ledge the grace of God in their respective gifts. Our beloved brother .Paul, writes, says St. Peter, according to the wisdom given unto him. But there are Peters, in our days, who would say — " Paul is too learned. Away with these things, which are hard to be understood. He should be more simple. I dislike all this reasoning." Aud there are Pauls, who would say, " Peter is rash and unguarded. He should put a curb on his im- petuosity." And there are Johns, who would say, " They should both discharge their office in my soft and winning manner. No good will come of this fire and noise." Nothing of this sort! Each hath Improper gift of God; one after this manner, and another after that: and each seems only P2 212 REMAINS* desirous to occupy faithfully till his Master come, leaving his brethren to stand or fall to their own Master. Too much dependence is often placed on a system of rational contrivance. An inge- nious man thinks he can so manage to preach Christ, that his hearers will say — " Here is no- thing of Methodism ! This has nothing to do with that system !" I will venture to say, if this is the sentiment communicated by his ministry, that he has not delivered his message. The people do not know what he means, or he has kept back part of God's truth. He has fallen on a carnal contrivance, to avoid a cross; and he does no good to souls. The whole message must be delivered ; and it is better it should be delivered even coarsely, than not at all. We may lay it down as a principle— That if the Gospel be a medicine, and a specific too — as it is — it must be got down such as it is. Any attempt to so- phisticate and adulterate will deprive it of its effi- cacy ; and will often recoil on the man who makes the attempt, to his shame and confusion. The Jesuits tried to render Christianity palatable to the Chinese by adulterating it, but the Jesuits were driven with abhorrence from the empire. If we have to deal with men of learning, let us shew learning so far as to demonstrate that it bears its testimony to the Truth. But accom- modation in manner must often spring from ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 213 humility. We must condescend to the capacities of men, and make the truth intelligible to them. If this be our manner of preaching Christ, we must make up our minds not to regard the little caviller, who will judge us by the standard of his favourite author or preacher. We must be cau- tious, too, since men of God have been and ever will be the butt and scorn of the world, of think- ing that we can escape its sneers and censures. It is a foolish project — To avoid giving offence ; but it is our duty, To avoid giving unnecessary offence. It is necessary offence, if it is given by the Truth ; but it is unnecessary, if our own spirit occasion it. I have often thought that St. Paul was raised up peculiarly to be an example to others, in la- bouring to discover the wisest way of exhibiting the Gospel: not only that he was to be a great pattern in other points, but designedly raised up for this very thing. How does he labour to make the truth reasonably plain ! How does he strain every nerve and ransack every corner of the heart, to make it reasonably palatable! We need not be instructed in his particular meaning when he says, I became all things to all men, if by any means I might save some. His history is a comment on the declaration. The knowledge of Jesus Christ is a wonderful mystery. Some men think they preach Christ gloriously, because they name him every two 21 4 REMAINS. minutes in their Sermons. But that is not preach- ing Christ. To understand, and enter into, and open his various offices and characters— the glories of his person and work — his relation to us, and ours to Him, and to God the Father and God the Spirit through him — this is the knowledge of Christ. The Divines of the present day are stunted dwarfs in this knowledge, compared with the great men of the last age. To know Jesus Christ for ourselves, is to make him a consola- tion, DELIGHT, STRENGTH, — RIGHTEOUSNESS, — companion, — and end. This is the aspect in which religion should be presented to mankind: it is suited, above all other, to produce effect; and Effect is our object. We must take human nature, as we find human nature. We must take human nature in great cities, as we find human nature in great cities. We may say — " this or that is the aspect which ought to have most effect : we must illu- minate the mind : we must enlist the reason : we must attack the conscience." We may do all this, and yet our comparative want of success in beget- ting and educating the Sons of Glory, may demon- strate to us that there is some more Effective way; and that sound sense and philosophy call on us to adopt that way, because it is most Effective. Our system of preaching must meet mankind : they must find it possible to live in the bustle of the world, and yet serve God: after being ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 215 worried and harrassed with its concerns, let them hear cheating truths concerning Christ's Love and Care and Pity, which will operate like an enchant- ment in dispelling the cares of life and calming the anxious perturbations of conscience. Bring forward privileges and enforce duties, in their proper places and proportions. Let there be no extremes : yet I am arrived at this conviction : — Men, who lean toward the extreme of evangelical privileges in their mi- nistry, do much more to the conversion of their hearers ; than they do, who lean toward the extreme of requirement. And my own expe- rience confirms my Observation. I feel myself repelled, if anything chills, loads, or urges me. This is my nature, and I see it to be very much the nature of other men. But, let me hear, Son of man, thou hast played the harlot with many lovers ; yet return again to me, saith the Lord — I am melted and subdued. A MINISTERS FAMILIAR INTERCOURSE WITH HIS HEARERS. VV HAT passes, on these occasions, too often savours of this world. We become one among our hearers. They come to Church on Sunday ; and we preach : the week comes round again, and its nonsense with it. Now if a Minister were what he should be, the people would feel it. They would not attempt to introduce this dawdling, silly, diurnal chat! When we coun- tenance this, it looks as though, " On the Sunday I am ready to do my business ; and, in the week, you may do yours." This lowers the tone of what I say on the Sabbath. It forms a sad comment on my preaching. I have traced, I think, some of the evil that lies at the root of this. We are more concerned to be thought Gentlemen, than to be felt as Mini- sters. Now being desirous to be thought a man who has kept good company, strikes at the root ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 217 of that rough work — the bringing of God into his own world. It is hard and rough work to bring God into his own world. To talk of a Creator, and Preserver, and Redeemer, is an outrage on the feelings of most companies. There is important truth in what Mr. Wesley said to his preachers, when rightly understood, however it may have been ridiculed: — " You have no more to do with being Gentlemen, than Dancing Masters." The character of a Minister is far beyond that of a mere Gentleman. It takes a higher walk. He will, indeed, study to be a real gentleman: he will be the farthest possible from a rude man : he will not disdain to learn nor to practice the decencies of society: but he will sustain a still higher character. It is a snare to a Minister when in company, to be drawn out to converse largely on the state of the Funds, and on the News of the day. He should know the world, and what is doing in the world, and should give things of this nature their due place and proportion ; but if he can be drawn out to give twenty opinions on this or that subject of politics or literature, he is lowered in his tone. A man of sense feels something violent in the tran- sition from such conversation to the Bible and to Prayer. Dinner Visits can seldom be rendered really profitable to the mind. The company are so much occupied, that little good is to be done. 218 REMAINS. A Minister should shew his sense of the value of time : it is a sad thing when those around him begin to yawn. He must be a man of business. It is not sufficiently considered how great the sin of idleness is. We talk in the pulpit of the value of time, but we act too little on what we say. Let a Minister who declines associating much with his hearers, satisfy himself that he has a good reason for doing so. If reproached for not visiting them so much as they wish, let him have a just reason to assign. A man who is at work for his family, may have as much love for them as the wife, though she is always with them. I fell into a mistake, when a young man, in thinking that I could talk with men of the world on their own ground, and could thus win them over to mine. I was fond of painting, and so talked with them on that subject. This pleased them : but I did not consider that I gave a con- sequence to their pursuits which does not belong to them ; whereas I ought to have endeavoured to raise them above these, that they might engage in higher. I did not see this at the time : but I now see it to have been a great error. A wealthy man builds a fine house, and opens to himself fine prospects : he wants you to see them, for he is sick of them himself. They thus draw you into their schemes. A man has got ten thousand pounds: you congratulate him on it, and that ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 219 without any intimation of his danger or his respon- sibility. Now you may tell him in the pulpit that riches are nothing worth ; but you will tell him this in vain, while you tell him out of it that they are. Lord Chesterfield says a man's character is degraded when he is to be had. A Minister ought never to be had. A MINISTERS ENCOURAGING ANIMADVERSION ON HIMSELF. T is a serious enquiry for a Minister, how far HE SHOULD ENCOURAGE ANIMADVERSION ON HIM- SELF in his hearers. He will encounter many ignorant and many censorious remarks, but he may gain much on the whole. He should lay down to himself a few principles. It is better that a Minister smart than mistake. It is better that a traveller meet a surly, imper- tinent fellow to direct him his way, than lose his way. A Minister is so important in his office, that, whatever others think of it, he should regard this and this only as the transaction for eternity. But a man may be labouring in the fire : he may- be turning the world upside down, and yet be wrong. You say he must read his Bible. True ! but he must use all means. He must build his usefulness on this principle — if by any means. If the wheel hitches, let him, by any means, discover ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 221 where it hitches. This principle is to be worked continually in his mind. He must labour to keep it up to a fine, keen edge. Let him never believe that his view of himself is sufficient. A merchant, sailing in quest of gain, is so intent on his object that he will take a hint from any man. If we had all the meaning to which we pretend in our pursuits, we should feel and act like him. A Minister must lay it down also as a principle, that Tie will never sufficiently understand his own pride and self-love ; and that confidence in his own sense, zvhich cleaves closely to every man. He must consider this as the general malady. Man is blind and obstinate — poor and proud. This silly creature, through ignorance of this principle, will not only not hear a vulgar hearer, who ani- madverts on him ; but he will scarcely listen to a superior man among his hearers. He attends to such a one, because it would be indecent not to attend. But he finds some excuse for himself in his own bosom. He reverences what is said very little, if at all. He strokes and flatters himself, and makes up the affair very well in his own mind. A Minister should consider how much more easily a weak man can read a ivise man, than a wise man can read himself : and that for this reason — no man can see and hear himself. He is too much formed in his own habits — his family notions - his closet notions — to detect himself. He, who 222 REMAINS. stands by and sees a game played, has vast ad- vantages over the players. Besides, preachers err systematically — learnedly — scientifically. The simple hearer has an appeal to nature in his heart. He can often feel that his Minister is wrong, when he is not able to set him right. Dr. Manton, no doubt, thought he had preached well, and as became him, before the Lord Mayor ; but he felt himself reproved and instructed, when a poor man pulled him by the sleeve, and told him he had understood nothing of his sermon: there was an appeal in this poor man's breast to nature: nature could not make any thing of the Doctor's learning. When Apelles took his stand behind his picture, he was a wise man : and he was a wise man too, when he altered the shoe on the hint of the cobler : the cobler, in his place, was to be heard. A Minister should consider, too, that few will venture to speak to apublic man. It is a rare thing to hear a man say — " Upon my word that thing, or your general manner, is defective or improper." If a wise man says this, he shews a regard, which the united stock of live hundred flatterers will not equal. I would set down half the blunders of Ministers to their not listening to animadversion. I have heard it said — for the men, who would ani- madvert on us, talk among themselves, if we refuse to let them talk to us — —I have heard it said, " Why don't you talk to him ?"— " Why don't I talk to him! because he will not hear!" ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 223 Let him consider, moreover, that this aversion from reproof is not wise. This is a symptom of the disease. Why should he want this hushing- up of the disorder? This is a mark of a little mind. A great man can afford to lose : a little insignifi- cant fellow is afraid of being snuffed out. A Minister mistakes who should refuse to read any anonymous letters. He may, perhaps, see nothing in them the first time; but, let him read them again and again. The writer raises his su- perstructure, probably, on a slight basis; yet there is generally some sort of occasion. If he points out but a small error, yet that is worth detecting. In the present habits of men, it is so difficult to get them to tell the naked truth, that a Mini- ster should shew a disposition to be corrected : he should shew himself to be sensible of the want of it. He is not to encourage idle people : that could be productive of no possible good. These are some of the reasons for a Minister's encouragement, in a judicious manner, of animad- version on himself in his hearers. Sometimes, however, a man will come who appears to be an impertinent man, independently of what he has to remark — a man who is evidently disposed to be troublesome. Such a man came to me, with — " Sir, you said such a thing that seemed to lean to the doctrine of universal re- demption. Pray, Sir, may I speak a little with 224 REMAINS. you on that subject?" The manner of the mail at once marked his character. He seemed to bring with him this kind of sentiment — " I'll go and set that man right. I'll call that man to ac- count." It was a sort of democratic insolence of mind. Instead of answering him as he expected, I treated him as a child. I turned it into an oc- casion of preaching a sermon to him : — " Sir, do you come to instruct me, or to be instructed ? Be- fore we enter on a question which has exercised the greatest men, we want a preparedness of mind : want a deep humility — a teachableness — a spirit of dependence — of which you seem to me to have but little." On the other hand, a man may come, quite as ignorant as the other, yet a simple character. I have distressed him. Though he cannot, perhaps, be made to understand what he enquires about — yet a Minister should say to himself, " Have I puzzled him? He is wounded, and he comes for help." A Minister should remember that he is not always to act and speak authoritatively. He sits on his friend's chair, and his friend says his things to him with frankness. They may want, perhaps, a little decorum ; but he should receive them in the most friendly and good-humoured way in the world. A thing strikes this man and that man : he may depend on it, that it has some foundation. ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 225 But there are persons, whom a Minister should Snore than encourage to animadvert on him. He should employ them. He should explain himself to them. He does not merely want an account of his sermon, but he employs them on business. To such sensible persons, he will say — " What serious judgment do you form of my preaching? Do tell me what sort of man I am." A Minister has to treat with another sort of hearers — uncandid men, and yet men of capacity : a sort of men, who are not now pleased, and then displeased. They spy a blot every where. He is likely to make a mistake with regard to such men: — " What signifies the opinion of that man? That man can never be pleased." True ! that man cannot be pleased, but it does not follow that he tells you no truth. In treating with such a man, he should say — " His edge may be too keen, for candour and sound judgment ; yet, if it lays open to me what I could not otherwise see, let me improve by its keenness. What hurt can he do me? He may damp or irritate others, by talking thus to them ; but, let me learn what is to be learnt from him." Such a man lifts a Minister from his standing, where he settles down too easily and firmly. If I know a man to be of this class, I will distinguish: " This is the man : but that is myself!" If I would write a book to stand the fire, let me find out the severest censor. My friend is but half the man : there is a consentaneousness t Q 226 REMAINS. of sentiment between us : we have fallen in to- gether, till we scarcely know how to differ from each other. Let the man come who says — " Here I can discover you to yourself; and there!" The best hints perhaps are obtained from snarling people. Medicaments make the patient smart, but they heal. Yet a Minister must not take this in the gross. He is not to invite rude men round his door. If he suffer his hearers to treat him irreverently — if he allow them to dispute with him on every oc- casion — he will bring ruin on the Church. The Priest* s lips must keep knowledge. If a parent allow his children to question every thing, so that nothing is to be settled without a hundred proofs, they will soon despise their teacher, for they will think themselves able to teach him. The Mi- nister must have decided superiority and authority, or he will want one of the principal qualities of his ministry. This is not inconsistent with re- ceiving hints. He may mistake in some things : but he should mark the complexion of his con- gregation in deciding how far they are to be heard on his mistakes. If the people are heady, for- ward, confident in their own sense, they are never to be encouraged. They are gone too far. ON THE LIMITS, WHICH A MINISTER SHOULD PUT TO THE INDULGENCE OF HIS CURIOSITY, WITH REGARD TO PUBLIC EXHIBITIONS. AN extreme is to be avoided. Some persons would condemn even rational curiosity. But the ivorks of the Lord are great : sought out of all them that have pleasure therein. I would not object, therefore, to visit the Museum ; or to go to see the rare natural productions often exhibited. I would enlarge, too, my views of man and the world, by frequenting the Panoramas of Cities. And, though I would not run after every sight, yet I would use my liberty in selecting. But some are in an opposite extreme. They are found every where. But he, who sustains the character of a scribe of the kingdom of heaven, ought not to be found every where. The man, who is seeking a heavenly country, will shew the spirit of one whose conversation is there. Q2 228 REMAINS. There is something in religion, when rightly apprehended, that is masculine and grand. It removes those little desires, which are " the constant hectic of a fool." Every thing of the drama, and whatever is so distinctly the course of this world, must be shunned. If a Minister take one step into the world, his hearers will take two. Much may be learnt from the sentiments of men of the world. If a man of this character who heard me preach, should meet me where he would say, " Why I did not expect to see you here !" — then he ought not to have seen me there. There must be measure and proportion in our attention to Arts and Sciences. These were the very idols of the heathen world : and what are they, who now follow them with an idolatrous eagerness, but like children, who are charmed with the sparkling of a rocket, and yet see nothing in the sun? Yet I would not indulge a cynical temper. If I go through a gentleman's Gallery of Pictures, I would say, " This is an admirable Claude!" — but I would take occasion to drop a hint of some- thing higher and better, and to make it felt that I fell in with these things rather incidentally than purposely. But all this must be done with ten- derness and humility: " I tread on the pride of Plato," said Diogenes, as he walked over Plato's carpet: " Yes — and with more pride," said Plato. ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 229 " They pass best over the world," said Queen Elizabeth, " who trip over it quickly ; for it is but a bog. If we stop, we sink." I would not make it my criterion — " Christ would not come hither !" i" must take a lower standard in these things. / am a poor creature, and must be contented to learn in many places and by many scenes, which Christ need not to have frequented. ON THE MEANS OF PROMOTING A SPIRIT OF DEVOTION IN CONGREGATIONS. J_^ET us ask, " What is man ?" He is a crea- ture of feeling, as well as of intellect. We must interest him as we can. It is unphilosophical to depend on the mere statement of truth. No doubt there is a contrary error : for what is the end of exciting attention, if there is nothing de- serving attention ? It is of the first importance, to put meaning into every part of the service. In either extreme, of appealing to the understanding or the feelings, there may be no meaning: in a dull and lifeless preacher, there is no meaning ; and, in one of a contrary character, there may be nothing worthy of the name. There is, besides, too little attention, in many Churches, to man as man. I would con- sult his convenience in all lawful points. If he could sit easier on cushions, he should have ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 231 cushions. I would not tell him to be warm in God's service, while I leave him to shiver with cold. No doors should creak: no windows should rattle. Music has an important effect on devotion. Wherever fantastical music enters, it betrays a corrupt principle. A congregation cannot enter into it; or, if it does, it cannot be a Christian congregation. Wherever there is an attempt to set off the music in the service, and the attempt is apparent, it is the first step toward carnality. Though there is too little life in the style of music adopted among the Moravians, yet the simplicity of Christianity pervades their devotion. Order is important. Some persons, by coming in when they please, propagate a loose habit of mind. For man is a sympathetic creature ; and what he sees others neglect, he is in danger of growing negligent in himself. If the reader goes through the Service as though the great business for which they are assembled is not yet begun, the people will soon feel thus themselves. The Minister should take occasion frequently to impress on the people the importance of the work in which they are engaged. It is not enough to take it for granted that they feel this. We must take nothing for granted. Man needs to be reminded of every thing, for he soon forgets every thing. Monotony must be, above all things, avoided. 232 REMAINS. The mind is vagrant : monotony cannot recal it. There may be continued vehemence, while the attention is not excited: it is disturbance and noise: there is nothing to lead the mind into a useful train of thought or feeling. There is an opposite error to vehemence. Men of sense and literature depress devotion by treat- ing things abstractedly. Simplicity, with good sense, is of unspeakable value. Religion must not be rendered abstract and curious. If a curious remark presents itself, reserve it for another place. The hearer gets away from the bustle and business of the week: he comes trembling under his fears: he would mount upward in his spirit : but a curious, etymological disquisition chills and repels him. In truth, we should be men of business in our congregations. We should endeavour both to excite and instruct our hearers. We should render the service an interesting affair in all its parts. We should rouse men: we should bind up the broken-hearted: we should comfort the feeble- minded: we should support the weak: we should become all things to all men, if by any means we may save some. MARRIAGE CHRISTIAN MINISTERS. XT seems to me, that many men do not give sufficient weight to our Lord's observations upon those who made themselves Eunuchs for the King' dom of Heaven's sake, nor to St. Paul's reasoning on the subject of marriage. I would only imply, that both our Lord and the Apostle seem to es- tablish it as a principle, that a single state, when it can be chosen and is chosen for the sake of the Gospel, is the superior state. This, I fear, is too much forgotten ; and those men, who might have received the saying, and have done more service to the Church of God by receiving it, have given it little or no weight in their deliberations. And yet it ought to be considered, that the very character which would best fit men for living in a single state, would abstract them too much from the feelings and wants of their people. I am fully sensible that I should have been hardened against the distresses of my hearers, if I had not been 234 REMAINS. reduced from my natural stoicism by domestic sufferings. The cases, I allow, are extremely few, in which a man may do, on the whole, more service to the Church by imitating St. Paul than by mar- rying: yet there are such cases; and it behoves every Minister seriously to consider himself and his situation, before he determines on marriage. He should not regard this state as indispensably necessary to him, but should always remember, that, cceteris paribus, he, who remains single,- is most worthy of honour. But, when it is proper that a Minister should marry, and he has determined to do it, how few select such women as suit their high and holy character ! A Minister is like a man who has un- dertaken to traverse the world. He has not only fair and pleasant ground to travel over, but he must encounter desarts and marshes and moun- tains. The traveller wants a firm and steady stay. His wife should be, above all things, a woman of faith and prayer — a woman, too, of a sound mind and of a tender heart — and one who will account it her glory to lay herself out in co-operating with her husband, by meeting his wants and soothing his cares. She should be his unfailing resource, so far as he ought to seek this in the creature. Blessed is she, who is thus qualified and thus lives! But, after all, the married Minister, if he ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 235 would live devotedly, must move in a determined sphere. Whatever his wife may be, yet she is a woman — and if things are to go on well they must have two separate worlds. There may, indeed, be cases, when a man, with something of a soft and feminine cast about his mind, may be united to a woman of a mind so superior and cultivated, that he may chuse to make it his plan that they shall move in the same world. In such rare cases it may be done with less inconvenience than in any other. But, even here, the highest end is sacri- ficed to feeling. Every man, whatever be his na- tural disposition, who would urge his powers to the highest end, must be a man of solitary studies. Some uxorious men of considerable minds have moved so much in the women's world, that re- flection, disquisition, and the energies of thought have been ruined by the habit of indulging the lighter, softer, and more playful qualities. Such a man is, indeed, the idol of the female world ; but he would rather deserve to be so, if he stood upon his own ground while he attempted to meet their wants, instead of descending to mingle among them. God has put a difference between the sexes, but education and manners have put a still greater. They are designed to move in separate spheres, but occasionally to unite together in order to soften and relieve each other. To at- tempt any subversion of God's design herein is 236 REMAINS. being wiser than He who made us ; and who has so established this affair, that each sex has its separate and appropriate excellence — only to be attained by pursuing it in the order of nature. Thought is or ought to be the characterizing feature of the man, and Feeling that of the woman. Every man and woman in the world has an appropriate mind; and that, in proportion to their strength of thought and feeling. Each has a way of their own — a habit — a system — a world — se- parated and solitary, in which no person on earth can have communion with them. Job says of God, He knoweth the way that I take; and, when the Christian finds a want of competency in his bosom friend to understand and meet his way, he turns with an especial nearness and familiarity of con- fidence to God, who knoweth it in all its connec- tions and associations, its peculiarities and its imperfections. I may be thought to speak harshly of the female character; but, whatever persuasion I have of its intended distinction from that of man, I esteem a woman, who aims only to be what God designed her to be, as honourable as any man on earth. She stands not in the same order of excellence, but she is equally honourable. But women have made themselves, and weak men have contributed to make them, what God never designed them to be. Let any thinking ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 237 man survey the female character as it now stands — often nervous, debilitated, and imaginative, and this superinduced chiefly by education and man- ners — and he will find it impossible that any great vigour of mind can be preserved or any high intel- lectual pursuits cultivated, so far as this character stands in his way. " Doing as others do," is the prevalent prin- ciple of the present female character, to whatever absurd, preposterous, masculine, or even wicked lengths it may lead. This is, so far as it avails with man or woman, the ruin, death, and grave of all that is noble, and virtuous, and praise-worthy. A studious man, whose time is chiefly spent at home, and especially a Minister, ought not to have to meet the imaginary wants of his wife. The disorders of an imaginative mind are beyond cal- culation. He is not worthy the name of a hus- band, who will not, with delight, nurse his wife, with all possible tenderness and love, through a real visitation however long ; but he is ruined, if he falls upon a woman of a sickly fancy. It is scarcely to be calculated what an influence the spirit of his wife will have on his own, and on all his ministerial affairs. If she comes not up to the full standard, she will so far impede him, derange him, unsanctify him. If there is such a thing as good in this world, it is in the ministerial office. The affairs of this employment are the greatest in the world. In 238 REMAINS. prosecuting these with a right spirit, the Minister keeps in motion a vast machine ; and, such are the incalculable consequences of his wife's character to him, that, if she assist him not in urging forward the machine, she will hang as a dead weight upon its wheels. A woman may have a high taste: her natural temper may be peevish and fretful : she may have a delicate and fastidious mind: she may long for every thing she sees. It is not enough that she is, in reality, a pious woman. Her taste, her mind, her maimers, must have a decorum and congruity to her husband's office and situation. She must bear to be crossed in her wishes for unsuitable objects : he will say, with firmness, " This shall not be. It is not enough, that it would gratify you : it is wrong. It is not enough, that it is not flagrantly sinful : it is improper, unsuitable to our character and station # . It is not enough that money will buy it, and I have got money: it would be a culpable use of our talent. It is not enough that your friend possesses such a thing : we stand and fall to our own Master.'' * Nee, tibi quid liccat } sed qnid/ecisse decebit, Qccurrat, — Claudian. J. P. VISITING DEATH -BEDS. 1 HAVE found it, in many cases, a difficult thing to deal with a Death-Bed. We are called in to Death-Beds of various kinds : — The True Pilgrim sends for us to set before him the food on which he has fed throughout his journey. He has a keen appetite. He wants strength and vigour for the last effort; and, then, all is for-ever well ! He is gone home, and is at rest! Another man sends for us, because it is decent; or his friends importune him ; or his conscience is alarmed : but he is ignorant of Sin and of Salva- tion: he is either indifferent about both, or he has made up his mind in his own way : he wants the Minister to confirm him in his own views, and smooth over the wound. I have seen such men mad with rage, while I have been beating down their refuges of lies, and setting forth to them God's refuge. There is a wise and holy medium to be observed in treating such cases: — "I am not come to daub you over with untempered mortar : 240 REMAINS. I am not come to send you to the bar of God with a lie in your right-hand. But neither am I come to mortify you, to put you to unnecessary pain, to embitter you, or to exasperate you." There is a kindness, affection, tenderness, meekness, and patience, which a man's feelings and conscience will condemn him while he opposes! I have found it a very effectual method to begin with myself: it awakens attention, conciliates the mind, and in- sinuates conviction : — " Whatever others think of themselves, I stand condemned before God: my heart is so desperately wicked, that, if God had not shewed me in his Word a remedy in Jesus Christ, I should be in despair: I can only tell you what I am, and what I have found. If you be- lieve yourselves to be what God has told me I am and all men are, then I can tell you where and how to find Mercy and Eternal Life: if you will not believe that you are this sort of man, I have nothing to offer you. I know of nothing else for man, beside that which God has shewed me." My descriptions of my own fallen nature have ex- cited perfect astonishment: sometimes my patients have seemed scarcely able to credit me; but I have found that God has fastened, by this means, conviction on the conscience. In some cases, an indirect method of addressing the conscience may apparently be, in truth, the most direct; but we are to use this method wisely and sparingly. It seems to me to be one of the characteristics of the ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 241 day, in the religious world, to err on this subject. We have found out a circuitous way of exhi- biting Truth. The plain, direct, simple exhi- bition of it is often abandoned, even where no circumstances justify and require a more insinu- ating manner. There is Dexterity indeed, and Address in this; but too little of the simple Declaration of the testimony of God, which St. Paul opposes to excellency of speech or of wisdom, and to enticing words of man's wisdom. We have done very little when we have merely persuaded men to think as we do. But we have to deal with a worse Death-Bed character, than with the man who opposes the Truth. Some men assent to every thing, which we propose. They will even anticipate us. And yet we see that they mean nothing. I have often felt when with such persons : " I would they could be brought to contradict and oppose! That would lead to discussion. God might, perad- venture, dash the stony heart in pieces. But this heart is like water. The impression dies as fast as it is made." I have sought for such views as might rouze and stir up opposition. I have tried to irritate the torpid mind. But all in vain. I once visited a young Clergyman of this character, who was seized with a dangerous illness at a Coffee-house in town, whither some business had brought him : the first time I saw him, we con- versed very closely together; and, in the prospect 242 REMAINS. of Death he seemed solicitous to prepare for it. But I could make no sort of impression upon him : all I could possibly say met his entire approba- tion, though I saw his heart felt no interest in it. When I visited him a second time, the fear of death was gone ; and, with it, all solicitude about religion. He was still civil and grateful, but he tried to parry off the business on which he knew I came. " I will shew you, Sir, some little things with which I have worne away the hours of my confinement and solitude." He brought out a quantity of pretty and tasty drawings. I was at a loss how to express, with suitable force and deli- cacy, the high sense I felt of his Indecorum and Insipidity, and to leave a deep impression on his conscience — I rose, however, instantly — said my time was expired — wished him well, and withdrew. Sometimes we have a painful part to act with sincere men, who have been carried too much into the world. I was called in to visit such a man. " I find no comfort," he said. " God veils his face from me. Every thing round me is dark and uncertain." I did not dare to act the flatterer. I said — " Let us look faithfully into the state of things. I should have been surprized if you had not felt thus. I believe you to be sincere. Your state of feelings evinces your sincerity. Had I found you exulting in God, I should have con- cluded that you were either deceived or a de- ceiver: for, while God acts in his usual order. ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 243 how could you expect to feel otherwise on the approach of death, than you do feel ? You have driven hard after the world. Your spirit has been absorbed in its cares. Your sentiment — your conversation have been in the spirit of the world. And have you any reason to expect the response of conscience, and the clear evidence, which await the man who has walked and lived in close friendship with God? You know that what I say is true." His wife interrupted me, by assuring me that he had been an excellent man. " Silence!" said the dying penitent, " it is all true!" Soon after I came to St. John's, I was called on to visit a dying lady, whom I saw many times before her death. I found that she had taken God for her portion and rest. She approached him with the penitence of a sinner grateful for his pro- vision of mercy in Christ. She told me she had found religion in her Common Prayer Book. She blessed God that she had " always been kept steady to her Church ; and that she had never fol- lowed the people called Methodists, who were seducing so many on all sides." I thought it would be unadviseable to attempt the removal of prejudices, which, in her dying case, were harm- less; and which would soon be removed by the light which would beam in on her glorified soul. We had more interesting subjects of conversation, from which this would have led us away. Some persons may tax her with a want of charity : but. R2 244 REMAINS. alas ! I fear they are persons, who, knowing more than she did of the doctrines of the Gospel, have so little of its divine charity in their hearts, that, as they cannot allow for her prejudices, neither would they have been the last to stigmatize her as a dead formalist and a pharisee. God knoweth them that are his ; and they are often seen by him, where we see them not. Were a benighted inha- bitant of Otaheite to feel the wretchedness of his present life, and lift up his soul to the God he worshipped as a Supreme Being for happiness, no doubt God would hear such a prayer. MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS. CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. JliVERY book really worth a Minister's study- ing, he ought, if possible, to have in his own library. I have used large libraries, but I soon left them. Time was frittered away : my mind was unconcentrated. Besides, the habit which it begets of turning over a multitude of books, is a pernicious habit. And the usual contents of such libraries are injurious to a spiritual man, whose business it is to transact with men's minds. They have a dry, cold, deadening effect. It may suit dead men, to walk among the dead ; but send not a living man to be chilled among the ruins of Tadmor in the Wilderness! Christianity is so great and surprizing in its nature, that, in preaching it to others, I have no encouragement but the belief of a continued 246 REMAINS. divine operation. It is no difficult thing to change a man's opinions. It is no difficult thing to attach a man to my person and notions. It is no difficult thing to convert a proud man to spiritual pride, or a passionate man to passionate zeal for some religious party. But, to bring a man to love God — to love the law of God, while it condemns him — to loath himself before God — to tread the earth under his feet — to hunger and thirst after God in Christ, and after the mind that was in Christ — with man this is impossible ! But God has said it shall be done : and bids me go forth and preach, that by me, as his instrument, he may effect these great ends ; and therefore I go. Yet I am obliged continually to call my mind back to my principles. I feel angry, perhaps, with a man, because he will not let me convert him : in spite of all I can say, he will still love the world. St. Paul admonishes Timothy to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. It sometimes falls to the lot of a Minister to endure the hard labour of a Nurse, in a greater measure than that of a Soldier. He has to encounter the difficulties of a peculiar situation : he is the Parent of a family of children, of various tempers, manners, habits, and prejudices : if he does not continually mortify himself, he will bear hardly upon some of his chil- dren. He has, however, to endure the hardness ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 247 of calling his child — his friend — to an account; of being thought a severe, jealous, legal man. If a man will let matters take their chance, he may live smoothly and quietly enough; but if he will stir among the servants, and sift things to the bottom, he must bear the consequences. He must account himself a Man of Strife. His language must be — " It is not enough that you feed me, or fill my pocket — there is something between me and thee." The most tender and delicate of his flock have their failings. His warmest and most zealous supporters break down some where. A sun-shiny day breeds most reptiles. It is not enough, therefore, that the sun shines out in his church. It is not enough that numbers shout applause. A Minister may be placed in a discouraging situation. He may not suit the popular taste. He may not be able to fall into the fashionable style. He may not play well on an instrument. Though an effective man, and a man of energy, he may be under a cloud. The door may be shut against him. Yet it is a dangerous thing for such a man to force open the door. He should rather say — " I have a lesson to learn here. If I teach the people nothing, perhaps they may teach me." The work of Winter is to be done, as well as the work of Summer. The hardness which I have to endure is this — Here are a number of families, which shew me 248 REMAINS. every kind of regard. But I see that they are not right. They somehow so combine the things which they hear, with the things which they do, that I am afraid they will at last lie down in sorrow! Here is my difficulty. I must meet them with gentleness ; but I must detect and uncover the evil. I shall want real kindness and common honesty, if I do not. Ephraim hath grey hairs : yet he knoiveth it not. Ephraim is a cake not turned. But, if I tell him these things, he and I shall become two persons. He must however be so touched in private ; for he will not be touched in the pulpit. He will say " I am not the man." A minister must keep under his body, andbring it into subjection. A Newmarket -Groom will sweat himself thin, that he may be fit for his office: Noiv they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but tve, an incotTuptible ! • is just come from college. He has a re- fined, accurate, sensible mind. Some of our friends wish to get him a station at Calcutta. They think him just adapted for that sphere. I differ widely in my view of the matter. A new man, with his college accuracy about him, is not the man for the dissipated and fashionable court at Calcutta. Such a congregation will bid nothing ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 249 for his acuteness and reasoning. He, who is to talk to them with any effect, must have seen life and the world. He must be able to treat with them on their own ground. And he must be able to do it with the authority of a messenger from God, not with the arts and shifts of human elo- quence and reasonings. Dr. Patten said admi- rably well, in a sermon which I heard him preach at Oxford : " Beware how you suffer the infidel to draw you upon metaphysical ground. If he get you there, he will have something to say. The evidences and the declarations of God's word are the weapons with which he must be combated, and before which he must fall." London is very peculiar as a Ministerial walk. Almost all a Minister can do, is, by the Pulpit and the Pen. His hearers are so occupied in the world, that if he visit them, every minute perhaps brings in some interruption. It is a serious question — Whether a Minister ought to preach at all beyond his experience. He is to stand forth as a witness — but a witness- of what he knows, not of what he lias been told. He must preach as he feels. If he feels not as he might and ought, he must pray for such feelings; but, till he has them, ought he to pretend to them? 250 REMAINS. Going faster than the experience led, has been the bane of many. Men have preached in certain terms and phrases according to the tone given by others, while the thing has never been made out even to their conviction, much less in their experience. It is a most important point of duty, in a Mi- nister, to redeem time. A young Minister has sometimes called an old one out of his Study, only to ask him how he did : there is a tone to be observed toward such an idler: an intimation may be given, which he will understand, " This is not the house!" In order to redeem time, he must refuse to engage in secular affairs : No man, that warreth, entangleth himself with the affairs of this life, that he may -please him who hath chosen him to he a soldier. He must watch, too, against a dozing away of time: the clock-weight goes down slowly, yet it draws all the works with it. Owen remarks, that it is not sufficiently consi- dered how much a Minister's personal religion is exposed to danger, from the very circumstance of religion being his profession and employment. He must go through the acts of religion : he must put on the appearances of religion : he must utter the language and display the feelings of religion. ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 251 It requires double diligence and vigilance, to main- tain, under such circumstances, the spirit of re- ligion. I have prayed: I have talked: I have preached: but now I should perish, after all, if I did not feed on the bread which I have broken to others. A Minister must cultivate a tender spirit. If he does this so as to carry a savour and unction into his work, he will have far more weight than other men. This is the result of a devotional habit. To affect feeling is nauseous and soon de- tected : but to feel, is the readiest way to the hearts of others. The leading defect in Christian Ministers is want of a devotional habit. The Church of Rome made much of this habit. The contests accom- panying and following the Reformation, with something of an indiscriminate enmity against some of the good of that Church as well as the evil, combined to repress this spirit in the Pro- testant writings; whereas the mind of Christ seems, in fact, to be the grand end of Christianity in its operation upon man. 252 REMAINS. There is a manifest want of spiritual influence on the ministry of the present day. I feel it in my own case, and I see it in that of others. I am afraid that there is too much of a low, managing* contriving, maneuvering temper of mind among us. We are laying ourselves out, more than is expedient, to meet one man's taste, and another mans prejudices. The ministry is a grand and holy affair ; and it should find in us a simple habit of spirit, and a holy but humble indifference to all consequences. A Man of the world will bear to hear me read in the desk that awful passage: Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction ; and many there be which go in thereat : Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life : and few there be that find it. Nay, he will approve it: — " The Minister is in the desk : he is reading the lesson of the day." But this very man — were I to go home with him, and tell him in his parlour that most of those whom he knows and loves are going on in that road to eternal destruction— this very man would brand the sentiment as harsh and uncharitable. Though uttered by Christ himself, it is a declara- tion as fanatical and uncandid, in the judgment of the world, as could be put together in language, ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 253 Many hearers cannot enter into the reasons of the Cross. They adopt what I think is Butler s grand defect on this subject. He speaks of the Cross as an appointment of God, and therefore to be submitted to : but God has said much in his word of the reasons of this appointment : that he might be just, and the justifier of him that be- lieveth. Several things are required to enable a Minister to attain a proper variety in his manner. He must be in continual practice : if I were to preach but once a month, I should lose the ability of preaching. He must know that his hearers are attached to him — that they will grant him indi- gencies and liberties. He must, in some measure, feel himself above his congregation. The pre- sence of a certain brother chills me ; because I feel that I can talk on no one subject in the pul- pit, with which he is not far better acquainted than I am. The first duty of a Minister, is, To call on his hearers to turn to the Lord. " We have much to speak to you upon. We have many duties to urge on you. We have much instruction to give you — but all will be thrown away, till you have 254 REMAINS. turned to the Lord." Let me illustrate this by a familiar comparison. You see your child sinking in the water: his education lies near your heart : you are anxious to train him up so, that he may occupy well the post assigned to him in life. But, when you see him drowning, the first thoughts are — not how you may educate him, but how you may save him. Restore him to life, and then call that life into action. A disinterested regard to Truth should be, what it very seldom is, the most striking character in a Christian Minister. His purpose should be to make proselytes to truth, and not to anything which may be particular in his views of it. " Read my books" says one. " No !" says another, " read mine." And thus religion is taken up by piece-meal; and the mind is diverted from its true nature by false associations. If the teacher, whom this man has chosen for his oracle, disgrace religion by irreligious conduct, he stumbles. He stumbles, because he has not been fixed upon the sole and immoveable basis of the religion of the Bible. The mind well instructed in the Scrip- tures, can bear to see even its spiritual father make shipwreck of the faith and scandalize the Gospel; but will remain itself unmoved. The man is in possession of a treasure, which, if others ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 255 are foolish enough to abandon, yet they cannot detract anything from the value attached to it in his esteem. That a Minister may learn how to magnify his office, let him study the character, the spirit, and the history of St. Paul. His life and death were one magnifying of his office : mark his object — to win souls ! — to execute the will of God ! As the man rises in his own esteem, his office sinks ; but, as the office rises in his view, the man falls. He must be in constant hostility with himself, if he would magnify his office. He must hold himself in readiness to make sacrifices, when called to do so : he will not barter his office, like Balaam ; but will refuse to sell his service, like Micaiah. Like Ezra and Nehemiah, he will refuse to come down from the great work which he has to do. He may be calumniated ; but he will avoid hasty vindica- tions of his character: it does not appear that Elisha sent after Naaman to vindicate himself from the falsehoods of Gehazi : there appears to me much true dignity in this conduct : I fear I should have wanted patience to act thus. Some young Ministers have been greatly injured, by taking up their creed from a sort of second or third rate writers. Toplady, perhaps, has said 25(5 REMAINS. that he has found his preaching most successful, when it has turned on the grand doctrines of Calvinism. A young man admires Toplady, and adopts the same notion concerning his own mi- nistry. But let him turn to a master on the sub- ject. He will find such a man as Traill handling the Sovereignty of God, and such high points of doctrine, with a holy and heavenly sweetness; which, while it renders it almost impossible not to receive his sentiments, leaves nothing on the mind but a religious savour. The grand aim of a Minister must be the exhi- bition of gospel truth. Statesmen may make the greatest blunders in the world, but that is not his affair. Like a King's Messenger, he must not stop to take care of a person fallen down : if he can render any kindness consistently with his duty, he will do it; if not, he will prefer his office. Our method of preaching is not that by which Christianity was propagated: yet the genius of Christianity is not changed. There was nothing in the primitive method set or formal. The pri- mitive Bishop stood up, and read the Gospel, or some other portion of Scripture, and pressed on the hearers, with great earnestness and affection. ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 257 a few plain and forcible truths evidently resulting from that portion of the Divine Word : we take a text, and make an oration. Edification was then the object of both speaker and hearers ; and, while this continues to be the object, no better method can be found. A parable, or history, or passage of Scripture, thus illustrated and enforced, is the best method of introducing truth to any people who are ignorant of it, and of setting it home with power on those who know it; and not formal, doctrinal, argumentative discourses. Truth and sympathy are the soul of an effica- cious Ministry. The Puritans were still farther removed from the primitive method of preaching : they would preach fifteen or sixteen Sermons on a text. A primitive Bishop would have been shocked with one of our sermons ; and, such is our taste, we should be shocked with his. They brought for- ward Scripture: we bring forward our statements. They directed all their observations to throw light on Scripture : we quote Scripture to throw light on our observations. More faith and more grace would make us better preachers, for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. Chry- sostom's was the right method. Leighton's Lec- tures on Peter approach very near to this method. 258 REMAINS. In acting on matter, the art of man is mighty. The steam-engine is a mighty machine. But, in religion, the art of man is mere feebleness. The armour of Saul is armour in the camp of the Israelites, or in the camp of the Philistines — but we want the sling and the stone. I honour Metaphysicians, Logicians, Critics, and Historians — in their places. Look at facts. Men, who lay out their strength in statements, preach Churches empty. Few men have a wisdom so large, as to see that the way which they cannot attain may yet be the best way. 1 dare not tell most aca- demical, logical, frigid men how little I account of their opinion, concerning the true method of preaching to the popular ear. I hear them talk, as utterly incompetent judges. Such men would have said St. Paul was fit only for the Tabernacle. What he would have said they were fit for, I cannot tell. They are often great men — first-rate men — unequalled men — in their class and sphere : — but it is not their sphere to manage the world. If a Minister could work miracles, he would do little more than interest the curiosity of men " I want to eat, and I want to drink, and I do it. I get on with difficulty enough, as things are; and you talk about treating with heaven! I know nothing of the matter, and I want no such thing" — This is the language of man's heart. A future ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 259 thing! .An indefinitely future thing! No! if a man could even authoritatively declare, that the Day of Judgment would be this day seven years, he would have little influence on mankind. Very few would be driven from the play-house — very few from the gaming table — very few from the brothel. — The din on 'Change would be very little diminished. I frequently look back on the early periods of my life, and imagine myself treating with such a character as I know I then was. I say to myself, " What now can I possibly say, that will affect and interest that young fellow of eighteen?" Some Christian Ministers fail in their effect on their hearers, by not entering as Philosophers into the state of human nature. They do not consider how low the patient is reduced — that he is to be treated more as a child — that he is to have milk administered to him, instead of strong meat. They set themselves to plant principles and prove points, when they should labour to interest the heart. But, after all, men will carry their natural character into their ministry. If a man has a dry, logical, scholastic turn of mind, we shall rarely find him an interesting preacher. One in a thousand may meet him, but not more. S2 260 REMAINS. The Christian will sometimes be brought to walk in a solitary path. God seems to cut away his props, that he may reduce him to Himself. His religion is to be felt as a personal, particular, ap- propriate possession. He is to feel, that, as there is but one Jehovah to bless, so there seems to him as though there were but one penitent in the uni- verse to be blessed by Him. Mary Magdalene at the Sepulchre was brought to this state. She might have said " I know not where Peter is: he is gone away — perhaps into the world — perhaps to weep over his fall. I know not where John is. What are the feelings and states of my brethren, I know not. I am left here alone. No one ac- companies and strengthens me. But, if none other will seek my Lord, yet will I seek Him!" There is a commanding energy in religious sympathy. A Minister, for example, while his preaching seems effective, and life and feeling shew them- selves around him, moves on with ease and plea- sure. But there is much of the man here. If God change the scene — if discouragements meet him — if he seem to be laid by, in any measure, as an instrument — if the love of his hearers to his person and ministry decay — this is a severe trial : yet most of us need this trial, that we may be re- duced simply to God, and may feel that the whole affair is between Him and ourselves. A dead fish will swim with the stream, whatever be its di- rection: but a living one will not only resist the ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 261 stream ; but, if it chuses, it can swim against it. The soul, that lives from God, will seek God, and follow God— more easily and pleasantly, indeed, if the stream flow toward the point whither God leads; but, still, it will follow God as its sole rest and centre, though the stream of men and opinions would hurry it away from Him. Gravity is, doubtless, obligatory on Ministers. The Apostle connects it with sincerity. Yet it must be natural — not affected. Some men give every thing in an oracular style: this looks like affectation, and will disgust others : they will at- tribute it to religion: but this is not a sanctified gravity. Other men are always disposed to levity : not that a man of original fancy is to be con- demned, for thinking in his own way: but the Minister must consider that he is a man of a con- secrated character : if it should not be difficult to himself to make transitions from levity to gravity, it will be difficult to carry others with him therein. Who has not felt, if God brings him into a trying situation, in which he sees that it is an awful thing to suffer or to die, that Gravity is then natural ? every thing else is offensive! That, too, is evil, which lets down the tone of a company : when a Minister loses his gravity, the company will take liberties with him. Yet, with a right principle, we must not play the fool. Gravity must be na- 262 REMAINS. tural and simple. There must be urbanity and tenderness in it. A man must not formalize on every thing. He, who formalizes on every thing, is a fool ; and a grave fool is perhaps more injurious than a light fool. We are called to build a spiritual house. One workman is not to busy himself in telling another his duty. We are placed in different circum- stances, with various talents : and each is called to do what he can. Two men, equally accepted of God, may be exceedingly distinct in the ac- count which they will give of their employ. A regular Clergyman can do no more in the discharge of his duty, than our Church requires of him. He may fall far short of her require- ments ; but he cannot exceed, by the most de- voted life, the duties which she has prescribed. What man on earth is so pernicious a drone, as an idle Clergyman! — a man, engaged in the most serious profession in the world : who rises to eat, and drink, and lounge, and trifle ; and goes to bed ; and then rises again, to do the same ! Our office is the most laborious in the world. The mind must be always on the stretch, to acquire wisdom and grace, and to communicate thein to all who come near. It is well, indeed, when a Clergyman ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 263 of genius and learning devotes himself to the pub- lication of classics and works of literature, if he cannot be prevailed on to turn his genius and learning to a more important end. Enter into this kind of society — what do you hear ? — " Have you seen the new edition of Sophocles ?" — " No ! is a new edition of Sophocles undertaken?" and this makes up the conversation, and these are the ends, of men who, by profession, should win souls! I received a most useful hint from Dr. Bacon, then Father of the University, when I was at College. I used frequently to visit him at his Living, near Oxford : he would say to me, " What are you doing? What are your studies?" — " I am reading so and so" — " You are quite wrong. When I was young I could turn any piece of Hebrew into Greek verse with ease. But, when I came into this parish, and had to teach ignorant people, I was wholly at a loss: I had no furni- ture. They thought me a great man, but that was their ignorance ; for I knew as little as they did, of what it was most important to them to know. Study chiefly what you can turn to good account in your future life." And yet this wise man had not just views of serious religion: he was one of those who are for reforming the parish — making the maids industrious, and the men sober and honest — but when I ventured to ask, " Sir, must not all this be effected by the infusion of a divine principle into the mind ? — a union of the 264 REMAINS. soul with the great head of influence?"—" No more of that, no more of that, I pray!" A wise Minister stands between practical Atheism and Religious Enthusiasm. A Sermon, that has more head infused into it than heart, will not come home with efficacy to the hearers. " You must do so and so : such and such consequences will follow if you do not : such and such advantages will result from doing it :" — this is cold, dead, and spiritless, when it stands alone ; or even when it is most prominent. Let the preacher's head be stored with wisdom ; but above all, let his heart so feel his subject, that he may infuse life and interest into it, by speaking like one who actually possesses and feels what he says. Faith is the master-spring of a Minister. " Hell is before me, and thousands of souls shut up there in everlasting agonies — Jesus Christ stands forth to save men from rushing into this bottomless abyss — He sends me to proclaim his Ability and his Love : I want no fourth idea ! — every fourth idea is contemptible! — every fourth idea is a grand impertinence !" ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 265 The meanness of the earthen vessel, which con- veys to others the Gospel Treasure, takes nothing from the value of the treasure. A dying hand may sign a Deed of Gift of incalculable value. A shepherd's boy may point out the way to a phi- losopher. A beggar may be the bearer of an in- valuable present. A writer of Sermons has often no idea how many words he uses, to which the common people affix either no meaning, or a false one. He speaks, perhaps, of " relation to God :" but the people, who hear him, affix no other idea to the word, than that of father, or brother, or re- lative. The preacher must converse with the people, that he may acquire their words and phrases. It sometimes pleases God to disqualify Ministers for their work, before he takes them to their reward. Where he gives them wisdom to per- ceive this, and grace to acquiesce in the dispensa- tion — such a close of an honourable life, where the desire to be publicly useful survives the power, is a loud amen to all former labours. ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. INFIDEL writings are ultimately productive of little or no danger to the Church of God. Nay, we are less at a loss in judging of the wisdom of Providence in permitting them, than we are in judging of many other of its designs. They may shake the simple, humble, spiritual mind ; but they are, in the end, the means of enlightening and settling it. There are but two sorts of people in the world. Some walk by the light of the Lord ; and all others lie in the wicked one, in darkness and in the shadow of death. Where there is not an enlight- ened, simple, humble, spiritual mind, notions and opinions are of little consequence. The impudent and refuted misrepresentations of Infidels may turn a dark mind to some other notions and way of thinking ; but it is in the dark still. Till a man sees by the light of the Lord, every change of opinions is only putting a new dress on a dead carcase, and calling it alive. ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 267 The grace of God must give simplicity. Wher- ever that is, it is a security against dangerous error: wherever it is not, erroneous opinions may perhaps less predispose the mind against the truth of God in its lively power on the soul, than true notions destitute of all life and influence do. Yet the writings of Infidels must be read with caution and fear. There are cold, intellectual, speculative, malignant foes to Christianity. I dare not tamper with such, when I am in my right mind. I have received serious injury, for a time, even when my duty has called me to read what they have to say. The daring impiety of Belsham's answer to Wilberforce ruffled the calm of my spirit. I read it over while at Bath, in the Autumn of 1798. I waked in pain, about 2 o'clock in the morning. I tried to chear myself by an exercise of faith on Jesus Christ. I lifted up my heart to Him, as sympathizing with me, and engaged to support me. Many times have I thus obtained quiet and repose : but now I could lay no hold on him : I had given the enemy an advantage over me: my habit had imbibed poison : my nerves trembled : my strength was gone ! — " Jesus Christ sympathize with you, and relieve you ! It is all enthusiasm ! It is idolatry ! Jesus Christ has preached his sermons, and done his duty, and is gone to heaven I And there he is, as other good men are ! Address your prayers to the Supreme Being!" — I obtain relief in such cases, 268 REMAINS. by dismissing from my thoughts all that enemies or friends can say. I will have nothing to do with Belsham or with Wilberforce. I come to Christ Himself. I hear what He says. I turn over the Gospels. I read his conversations. I dwell especially on his farewell discourses with his disciples, in St. John's Gospel. If there be meaning in words, and if Christ were not a de- ceiver or deceived, the reality of the Christian's life, in Him and from Him by faith, is written there as with a sun-beam. This temptation besets me to this day, and I know not that I have any other which is so par- ticular in its attacks upon me. I am sometimes restless in bed ; and, when I find myself so, I ge- nerally think that the parenthesis cannot be so well employed as in prayer. While my mind is thus ascending to Christ and communing with him, it often comes across me — " What a fool art thou to imagine these mental effusions can be known to any other Being ! what a senseless en- thusiast to imagine that the man who was nailed to a cross can have any knowledge of these secrets of thy soul !" On one of these occasions it struck me with great and commanding evidence — " Why might not St. John, in the Isle of Pat- mos— imprisoned perhaps in a cave — why might not he have said so? Why might not he have doubted whether Christ the crucified could have knowledge of his feelings, when he was in the ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 269 Spirit on the Lord's day f He had no doubt com- munion with Christ in the Spirit, before he had those palpable evidences of his presence which immediately followed." In the permission of certain bold infidel characters and writings, we may discern plain evidences of that awful system of judicial government with which God has been pleased to rule the world. Where there is a moral indisposition, where men are inclined to be deceived, where they are wait- ing as it were for a leader— there he sends such men or such writings, as harden them in their impiety : while a teachable and humble mind will discern the true character of such men or writ- ings, and escape the danger. I can conceive a character much more perni- cious in its influence, than the daring and impu- dent Infidel. A man — in the estimation of all the world modest, amiable, benevolent — who should, with deep concern, lament the obligation under which he feels himself to depart from the religion of Europe, the religion of his Country, the religion of his Family; and should profess his unfeigned desire to find this religion true, but that he cannot possibly bring his mind to believe it, and that for such and such reasons : when he should thus in- troduce all the strongest points that can be urged on the subject. 270 REMAINS. But God governs the world. It is not in his design to permit such men to arise. The Infidel has always had something about him, which has ascertained his obliquity to the eye, that has not been dimmed by the moral indisposition of the heart. The low and scurrilous writers against Revelation carry their own condemnation with them. They are like an ill-looking fellow, who comes into a Court of Justice to give evidence, but carries the aspect, on the first glance, of a Town-Bully, ready to swear whatever shall be suggested to him. Burke has painted the spirit of Democracy to the life. I have fallen in with some Democrats, who knew nothing of me. They have been sub- jects of great curiosity, when I could forget the horrid display of Sin that was before me. I saw a malignant eye — a ferocity— an intensity of mind on their point. Viewed in its temper and ten- dencies, Jacobinism is Devilism — Belialism. It takes the yoke of God and man — puts it on the ground — and stamps on it. Every man is called out into exertion against it. It is an inveterate, malignant, blaspheming, atheistical, fierce spirit. It seems a toss-up with these men, whether Satan himself shall govern the world. Before such ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 271 men, I say not a word. Oar Master has com- manded ns not to cast pearls before swine. I am vastly delighted with character — true and original character : but this is an awful and affecting dis- play of it. The Church has endured a pagan and a papal persecution. There remains for her an infidel persecution — general, bitter, purifying, cement- ing. It is, perhaps, impossible, in the very nature of things, that such another scheme as Popery could be invented. It is, in truth, the Mystery of Ini- quity : that it should be able to work itself into the simple, grand, sublime, holy institution of Christianity; and so to interweave its abomina- tions with the truth, as to occupy the strongest passions of the soul, and to controul the strongest understandings ! While Pascal can speak of Popery as he does, its influence over the mass of the people can excite no surprize. Those two master principles — That we must believe as the Church ordains, and That there is no salvation out of this Church — oppose, in the ignorance and fear which they beget, an almost insuperable barrier against the truth. *7'2 REMAINS. I have not such expectations of a Millenium as many entertain : yet I believe that the figures and expressions of prophecy have never received their accomplishment. They are too grand and ample, to have been fulfilled by any state, which the Church has hitherto seen. Christianity has yet had no face suitable to its dignity. It has sa- voured hitherto too much of man — of his institu- tions — of his prejudices — of his follies — of his sin. It must be drawn out — depicted — exhibited — demonstrated to the world. Its chief enemies have been the men by whom, under the profes- sion of Hail, Master! it has been distorted, abused, and vilified. Popery was the master-piece of Satan. I be- lieve him utterly incapable of such another con- trivance. It was a systematic and infallible plan, for forming manacles and mufflers for the human mind. It was a well-laid design to render Chris- tianity contemptible, by the abuse of its principles and its institutions. It was formed to overwhelm — to enchant — to sit as the great Whore, making- the Earth drunk with her fornications. The Infidel Conspiracy approaches nearest to Popery. But Infidelity is a suicide. It dies by its own malignity. It is known and read of all men. No man was ever injured essentially by it, who was fortified with a small portion of the genuine spirit of Christianity —its contrition and its docility. Nor is it one in its efforts : its end ON INFIDELITY AND POPERY. 273 is one; but its means are disjointed, various, and often clashing. Popery debases and alloys Christianity : but Infidelity is a furnace, wherein it is purified and refined. The injuries done to it by Popery, will be repaired by the very attacks of Infidelity. In the mean tune, Christianity wears an en- chanting form to all, who can penetrate through the mists thrown round it by its false friends and its avowed foes. The exiled French Priest raises the pity and indignation of all Christians, while he describes the infernal plots of the Infidel Con- spirators against Christianity, and shews them in successful operation against his Church*. We seem, for a while, to forget her errors ; and we view her for the moment, only so far as she pos- sesses Christianity in common with ourselves. But, when he charges the origin of this Infidel Conspiracy on the principles asserted by the Waldenses or the Church of Geneva, the enchant- ment dissolves. We see that he is under the in- fluence of a sophism ; by which, having imposed upon himself, he would impose upon others. With him, Christianity and his Church mean one and the same thing. A separation from his Church, is a separation from Christianity; and proceeds on principles which lead necessarily, if pursued to their issues, to every abomination of Infidelity. But let him know that the Church of * Alluding to Barruel's Memoirs of Jacobinism. J. P. t T 274 REMAINS. Geneva protested against the false friend of Chris- tianity ; and that, if the avowed enemy of Chris- tianity had then elevated himself, she would have protested with equal zeal against him. Let him know, that, if his Church had listened to the voice of the Reformer, the enemy of Christianity would have wanted ground for footing to his attacks. The Papist falsely charges the Reformer, as the father of Infidelity: the Infidel maliciously con- founds Popery and Christianity: but the true Christian is as far from the licentiousness of the Infidel, as he is from the corruption of the Papist. I am not inclined to view things in a gloomy aspect. Christianity must undergo a renovation. If God has sent his Son, and has declared that he will exalt him on his throne — the earth and all that it inherit are contemptible in the view of such a plan! If this be God's design— proceed it does, and proceed it will. Christianity is such a holy and spiritual affair, that perhaps all human institu- tions are to be destroyed to make way for it. Men may fashion things as they will ; but, if there is no effusion of the Spirit of God on their institu- tions, they will remain barren and lifeless. Many Christians appear to have forgotten this. CHRISTIAN'S DUTY IN THESE EVENTFUL TIMES. (JlJRS is a period of no common kind. The path of duty to a Christian is now unusually diffi- cult. It seems to me, however, to be compre- hended in two words — Be quiet and useful. The precept is short ; but the application of it requires much grace and wisdom. Take not a single step out of a quiet obscurity, to which you are not compelled by a sense of utility. Two parties have divided the world. The jacobins are desperadoes : the earth's torment and plague. Bishop Horsley said well of them, lately from the pulpit — " These are they, who have poisoned Watts's Hymns for Children. These are they, who are making efforts to conta- minate every means of access to the public mind. And what is their aim? — What are their preten- sions? — That they will have neither Lord nor King over them. But, verily, one is their King: whose T2 276 REMAINS. name, in the Hebrew tongue, is Abaddon ; but, ill the Greek tongue, he is called Apollyon; and, in plain English — ' The Devil? My soul come not thou near the tents of these wicked men!" " But the antijacobins?" — Their project, as a body, leaves God out of the question. Their proposal is unholy. I cannot be insensible to the Security, Order, and Liberty, with which these kingdoms are favoured above all other nations ; but I cannot go forth with these men, as one of their party. I cannot throw up my hat, and shout " Huzza!" Woe to the world, if even they prevail ! The world is a lying, empty pageant; and these men are ensnared with the show. My part in it, as a Christian, is to act with simplicity as the servant of God. What does God bid me do? What, in this minute of time, which will be gone and carry me with it into Eternity— what is my path of duty ? While enemies blaspheme, and friends are beguiled, let me stand on my ivatch- tower, with the Prophet, listening what the Lord God shall say tome. In any scheme of man I dare not be drunken. We, who are of the day, must be sober. Churchman or Dissenter, if I am a true Christian, I shall talk thus to my connections. The sentiment of the multitude is ensnaring ; but the multitude is generally wrong. I must beware of the contagion. Not that I am to push myself into consequence. The matter is between me and ON THE DUTY OF THE TIMES. 277 my God — Not one step out of a holy quiet and obscurity, but in order to utility. Yet we must be active and bold, whenever duty calls us to be so. My own conduct, with respect to the religious world, is too much formed on my feelings. I see it in what I deem a lament- able state ; but I seem to say " Well ! go on talk- ing, and mistaking, and making a noise : only make not a noise here:" and then I retire into my closet, and shrink within myself. But, had I more Faith, and Simplicity, and Love, and Self- Denial, I might do all I do in my present sphere, but I should throw myself in the midst of them, and intreat and argue and remonstrate. But then such a man must give himself up as a Sacrifice. He would be misrepresented and ca- lumniated from many quarters. But he would make up his account for such treatment. How would St. Paul have acted in such a state of the Church ? Would he not have displayed that warm spirit, which made him say O foolish Galatians ! ivho hath bewitched you? and that holy self-denial, which dictated I will very gladly spend and be spent for you, though the more exceedingly I love you the less I be loved? It is not to be calculated, how much a single man may effect, who throws his whole powers into a thing. Who, for instance, can estimate the influence of Voltaire? He shed an influence of a peculiar sort over Europe. His powers were *278 REMAINS. those of a gay buffoon — far different from those of Hume, and others of his class — but he threw himself wholly into them. It is true these men meet the wickedness or the imbecility of the hu- man mind ; but there are many right-hearted peo- ple, who hang a long time on the side of pure, silent, simple religion. Let a man, who sees things as I do, throw himself out with all his powers, to rescue and guide such persons. ON FORTIFYING YOUTH AGAINST INFIDEL PRINCIPLES. 1 NEVER gathered from Infidel Writers, when an avowed Infidel myself, any solid difficulties, which were not brought to my mind by a very young child of my own. " Why was sin per- mitted ?" — " What an insignificant world is this to be redeemed by the Incarnation and Death of the Son of God !" — " Who can believe that so few will be saved ?" — Objections of this kind, in the mind of reasoning young persons, prove to me that they are the growth of fallen nature. The nurse of Infidelity is Sensuality. Youth are sensual. The Bible stands in their way. It prohibits the indulgence of the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride" of life. But the young mind loves these things ; and therefore, it hates the Bible which prohibits them. It is pre- pared to say, " If any man will bring me argu- ments against the Bible, I will thank him : if not, I will invent them." 2B0 REMAINS. As to infidel arguments, there is no weight in them. They are jejune and refuted. Infidels are not themselves convinced by them. In combating this evil in Youth, we must re- collect the proverb, that " a man may bring his horse to the water, but cannot make him drink." The minds of the young are pre-occupied. They will not listen. Yet a crisis may come. They will stop, and bethink themselves. One promising method with them, is, to ap- peal to facts. What sort of men are Infidels ? They are loose — fierce — overbearing men. There is nothing in them like sober and serious enquiry. They are the wildest fanatics on earth. Nor have they agreed among themselves on any scheme of truth and felicity. Contrast with the character of Infidels that of real Christians. It is advantageous to dwell, with Youth, on the need and necessities of man. " Every pang and grief tells a man that he needs a helper: but Infidelity provides none. And what can its schemes do for you in death ?" Impress them with a sense of their igno- rance. I silence myself, many times a day, by a sense of my own ignorance. Appeal to their consciences. " Why is it that you listen to Infidelity? Is not Infidelity a low, carnal, wicked game? Is it not the very picture of the Prodigal — Father, give me the por- tion of goods thatfaUeth to me?- — : ' The question ON 1NFIDELILY IN YOUTH. 281 why Infidelity is received, exposes it, and shews it to the light. Why — why will a man be an Infidel? Your children may urge difficulties: but tell them that inexplicable difficulties sur- round you : you are compelled to believe, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, whether you will or no ; and shall you not be a believer in the hundredth instance from choice ? Draw out a map of the road of infidelity. It will lead them to such stages, at length, as they never could suspect. Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing ? The SPIRIT AND TONE OF YOUR HOUSE will have great influence on your children. If it is what it ought to be, it will often fasten conviction on their minds, however wicked they may become. I have felt the truth of this in my own case : I said " My father is right, and I am wrong! Oh, let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his /" The bye-conversations in a family are, in this view, of unspeakable importance. On the whole, arguments addressed to the heart press more forcibly than those addressed to the head. When I was a child, and a very wicked one too, one of Dr. Watts's Hymns sent me to weep in a corner. The lives in Janeway's Token had the same effect. I felt the influence of faith in suffering Christians. The character of young Samuel came home to me, when nothing else had arty hold on my mind. ON TUB MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. VJrREAT wisdom is requisite in correcting the evils of children. A child is bashful, perhaps : but, in stimulating; this child, we are too apt to forget future consequences. " Hold up your head. Don't be vulgar." At length they hold up their heads ; and acquire such airs, that, too late, we discover our error. We forgot that we were giv- ing gold, to purchase dross. We forgot that we were sacrificing modesty and humility, to make them young actors and old tyrants*. * The reader cannot but admire the sentiments, which Bishop Hurd has, on this subject, put into the mouth of Mr. Locke, one of his supposed interlocutors in the Dialogue on Foreign Travel. u Bashfuluess is not so much the effect of an ill education, as the proper gift and provision of wise nature. Every stage of life has its own set of manners, that is suited to it, and best becomes it. Each is beautiful in its season j and you might as well quarrel with the child's rattle, and advance him directly to the boy's top and span-farthing, as expect from diffident youth the manly confidence of riper age. " Lamentable in the mean time, I am sensible, is the condition of my good lady: who, especially if she be a mighty well-bred one, is perfectly shocked at the boy's awkwardness; and calls out on the taylor, the danc- ing-master, the player, the travelled tutor, any body and every body, to relieve her from the pain of so disgraceful an object. " She should, however, be told, if a proper season and words soft enough could be found to convey the information, that the odions thing, which disturbs her so much, is one of nature's signatures impressed on that age: that bashfuluess is but the passage from one season of life to ano- ON THE MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 283 Christians are imbibing so much of the cast and temper of the age, that they seem to be anxiously tutoring their children, and preparing them by all manner of means, not for a better world, but for the present. Yet in nothing should the simplicity of faith be more unreservedly exercised, than with regard to children. Their appointments and sta- tions, yea even their present and eternal happiness or misery, so far as they are influenced by their states and conditions in life, may be decided by the most minute and trivial events, all of which are in God's hand, and not in ours. An unbe- lieving spirit pervades, in this respect, too inti- mately the Christian World. When I meet children to instruct them, I do not suffer one grown person to be present. The Moravians pursue a different method. Some of their elder brethren even sit among the children, to sanction and encourage the work. This is well, provided children are to be addressed in the usual manner. But that will effect little good. No- thing is easier than to talk to children ; but, to talk to them as they ought to be talked to, is the very last effort of ability. A man must have a vigorous imagination. He must have extensive fher; and that as the body is then the least graceful, when the limbs are making their last efforts and hastening to their just proportion, so the manners are least easy and disengaged, when the mind, conscious and impa- tient of its imperfections, is stretching all its faculties to their full growth." See Bishop Hind's Moral and Political Dialogues, ed. vi tll > Lend. 1738. vol. 3d. pp. 99, 100, 101. J. P. 284 REMAINS. knowledge, to call in illustrations from the four corners of the earth : for he will make little progress, but by illustration. It requires great genius, to throw the mind into the habit of chil- dren's minds. I aim at this, but I find it the utmost effort of ability. No sermon ever put my mind half so much on the stretch. The effort is such, that, were one person present, who was capable of weighing the propriety of what I said, it would be impossible for me to proceed : the mind must, in such a case, be perfectly at its ease : it must not have to exert itself under cramps and fetters. I am surprized at nothing which Dr. Watts did, but his Hymns for Children. Other men could have written as well as he, in his other works ; but how he wrote these hymns, I know not. Stories fix children's attention. The Moment I begin to talk in anything like an abstract manner, the attention subsides. The simplest manner in the world will not make way to children's minds for abstract truths. With stories I find I could rivet their attention for two or three hours. Children are very early capable of impression. I imprinted on my daughter the idea of Faith, at a very early age. She was playing one day with a few beads, which seemed to delight her won- derfully. Her whole soul was absorbed in her beads. I said—" My dear, you have some pretty ON THE MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN. 285 beads there." — " Yes, Papa!"— "And you seem to be vastly pleased with them" — "Yes, Papa!" "Well now, throw 'em behind the fire." The tears started into her eyes. She looked earnestly at me, as though she ought to have a reason for such a cruel sacrifice. " Well, my dear, do as you please; but you know I never told you to do any- thing, which I did not think would be good for you." She looked at me a few moments longer, and then summoning up all her fortitude — her breast heaving with the effort — she dashed them into the fire. — " Well," said I : " there let them lie : you shall hear more about them another time; but jsay no more about them now." Some days after, I bought her a box full of larger beads, and toys of the same kind. When I returned home, I opened the treasure and set it before her: she burst into tears with extacy. Those, my child," said I, are yours; because you believed me, when I told you it would be better for you to throw those two or three paltry beads behind the fire. Now that has brought you this treasure. But now, my dear, remember, as long as you live, what Faith is. I did all this to teach you the meaning of Faith. You threw your beads away when I bid you, because you had faith in me that I never advised you but for your good. Put the same con- fidence in God. Believe every thing that he says in his word. Whether you understand it or not, have faith in him that he means your good." ON FAMILY WORSHIP. Jr AMILY religion is of unspeakable importance. Its effect will greatly depend on the sincerity of the head of the family, and on his mode of con- ducting the worship of his household. If his children and servants do not see his prayers ex- emplified in his tempers and manners, they will be disgusted with religion. Tediousness will weary them. Fine language will shoot above them. Formality of connection or composition in prayer they will not comprehend. Gloominess or austerity of devotion will make them dread religion as a hard service. Let them be met with smiles. Let them be met as friends. Let them be met as for the most delightful service in which they can be engaged. Let them find it short, savoury, simple, plain, tender, heavenly. Worship, thus conducted, may be used as an engine of vast power in a family. It diffuses a sympathy through the members. It calls oft* the mind from the deadening effect of worldly affairs. It arrests ON FAMILY WORSHIP. 287 every member, with a morning and evening sermon, in the midst of all the hurries and cares of life. It says " There is a God!" — " There is a spiritual world!" — " There is a life to come!" It fixes the idea of responsibility in the mind. It furnishes a tender and judicious father or master with an op- portunity of gently glancing at faults, where a direct admonition might be inexpedient. It en- ables him to relieve the weight with which subor- dination or service often sits on the minds of inferiors. In my family-worship I am not the reader, but employ one of my children. I make no formal comment on the Scripture : but, when any strik- ing event or sentiment arises, I say " Mark that !" — " See how God judges of that thing!" Some- times I ask what they think of the matter, and how such a thing strikes them. I generally re- ceive very strange, and sometimes ridiculous answers ; but I am pleased with them : attention is all alive, while I am explaining wherein they err, and what is the truth. In this manner I endea- vour to impress the spirit and scope of the passage on the family. I particularly aim at the eradication of a false principle, wonderfully interwoven with the minds of children and servants — they take their standard from the neighbourhood and their acquaintance, and by this they judge of every thing. I endea- vour to raise them to a persuasion, that God's will 288 REMAINS. in Scripture is the standard; and that this standard is perpetually in opposition to that corrupt one around and before them. The younger children of the family will soon have discernment enough to perceive that the Bible has a holiness about it, that runs directly contrary to the stream of opinion. And then, because this character is so evident, and so inse- parable from the Scripture, the heart will distaste and reject it. Yet the standard must be preserved. If a man should lower it, they would soon detect him ; and he must, after all, raise them up to the right standard again. Much may be effected by manner, as to impressing truth ; but, still, truth will remain irksome, till God touch the heart. I read the Scriptures to my family in some re- gular order : and am pleased to have thus a lesson found for me. I look on the chapter of the day as a lesson sent for that day; and so I regard it as coming from God for the use of that day, and not of my own seeking. I find it easy to keep up the attention of a con- gregation, in coriiparison of that of my family. I have found the attention best gained, by bring- ing the Truths of Scripture into comparison with the Facts which are before our eyes. It puts more stimuli into family-expositions. I never found a fact lost, or the current news of the day fail of arresting the attention. " How does the Bible account for that fact? — That man murdered his ON FAMILY WORSHIP. 289 Father — This or that thing happened in our house to-day— What does the Scripture say of such things?" It is difficult to fix and quiet your family. The servants are eager to be gone, to do something in hand. There has been some disagreement, per- haps, between them and their mistress. We must seize opportunities. We must not drive hard at such times as these. Regularity, however, must be enforced. If a certain hour is not fixed and adhered to, the family will inevitably be found in confusion. Religion should be prudently brought before a family. The old Dissenters wearied their families. Jacob reasoned well with Esau, about the tender- ness of his children and his flocks and herds. Something gentle, quiet, moderate should be our aim. There should be no scolding: it should be mild and pleasant. I avoid absolute uniformity: the mind revolts at it: though I would shun eccentricity, for that is still worse. At one time I would say something on what is read: but, at another time, nothing. I make it as natural as possible : " I am a re- ligious man : you are my children and my servants : it is natural that we should do so and so." Nothing of superstition should attach to family- duty. It is not absolutely and in all cases indis- pensible. If unavoidably interrupted, we omit it : it is well. If I were peremptorily ordered, as the t U 290 REMAINS. Jews were, to bring a lamb, I must be absolute. But this service is my liberty, not my task. I do not, however, mean in any degree to relax the proper obligation. Children and servants should see us acting on the Psalmist's declaration, / will speak of thy testimonies before Kings. If a great man happens to be present, let them see that I deem him no- thing before the Word of God ! INFLUENCE OF THE PARENTAL CHARACTER. J_ HE influence of the parental character on children is not to be calculated . Every thing around has an influence on us. Indeed the influ- ence of things is so great, that, by familiarity with them, they insensibly urge us on principles and feelings which we before abhorred. I knew a man who took in a democratical paper, only to laugh at it. But, at length, he had read the same things again and again, so often, that he began to think there must be some truth in them ; and that men and measures were really such as they were so often said to be. A drop of water seems to have no influence on the stone ; but it will, in the end, wear its way through. If there be, therefore, such a mighty influence in every thing around us, the Parental Influence must be great indeed. Consistency is the great character, iu good parents, which impresses children. They may witness much temper ; but if they see their Father U 2 •292 REMAINS. " keep the even tenor of his way," his imperfec- tions will be understood and allowed for as reason opens. The child will see and reflect on his parent's intention: and this will have great influence on his mind. This influence may, indeed, be afterwards counteracted: but that only proves that contrary currents may arise, and carry the child another way. Old Adam may be too strong for young Melancthon. The implantation of principles is of unspeakable importance, especially when culled from time to time out of the Bible. The child feels his parent's authority supported by the Bible, and the autho- rity of the Bible supported by his parent's weight and influence. Here are data — fixed data. A man can very seldom get rid of these principles. They stand in his way. He wishes to forget them, perhaps ; but it is impossible. Where Parental Influence does not convert, it hampers. It hangs on the wheels of evil. I had a pious Mother, who dropped things in my way. I could never rid myself of them. I was a professed Infidel : but then I liked to be an In- fidel in company, rather than when alone. I was wretched when by myself. These principles, and maxims, and data spoiled my jollity. With my companions I could sometimes stifle them: like embers we kept one other warm. Besides, I was here a sort of Hero. I had beguiled several of my associates into my own opinions, and I had to INFLUENCE OF PARENTAL CHARACTER. 293 maintain a character before them. But I could not divest myself of my better principles. 1 went with one of my companions to see " The Minor." He could laugh heartily at Mother Cole — I could not. He saw in her the picture of all who talked about religion — I knew better. The ridicule on regeneration was high sport to him — to me, it was none: it could not move my features. He knew no difference between regeneration and transub- stantiation — 1 did. I knew there was such a thing. I was afraid and ashamed to laugh at it. Parental influence thus cleaves to a man: it harasses him — it throws itself continually in his way. I find in myself another evidence of the great- ness of Parental Influence. I detect myself to this day, in laying down maxims in my family, which I took up at three or four years of age, before I could possibly know the reason of the thing. It is of incalculable importance to obtain a hold on the conscience. Children have a con- science; and it is not seared, though it is evil. Bringing the eternal world into their view — planning and acting with that world before us — this gains, at length, such a hold on them, that, with all the Infidel poison which they may after- ward imbibe, there are few children who, at night — in their chamber — in the dark — in a storm of thunder— will not feel. They cannot cheat like other men. They recollect that eternity, which 294 REMAINS. stands in their way. It rises up before them, like the ghost of Banquo to Macbeth. It goads them : it thunders in their ears. After all, they are obliged to compound the matter with conscience, if they cannot be prevailed on to return to God without delay. — " I must be religious, onetime or other. That is clear. I cannot get rid of this thing. Well ! I will begin at such a time. I will finish such a scheme, and then !" The opinions — the spirit — the conversation— the manners of the parent, influence the child. Whatever sort of man he is, such, in a great de- gree, will be the child; unless constitution or accident give him another turn. If the parent is a fantastic man— if he is a genealogist, knows nothing but who married such an one and who married such an one — if he is a sensualist, a low wretch — his children will usually catch these tastes. If he is a literary man — his very girls will talk learnedly. If he is a griping, hard, miserly man — such will be his children. This I speak of as generally the case. It may happen, that the parents disposition may have no ground to work on in that of the child. It may happen, that the child may be driven into disgust: the Miser, for instance, often implants disgust, and his son be- comes a Spendthrift. After all, in some cases, perhaps, every thing seems to have been done and exhibited by the pious parent in vain. Yet he casts his bread upon INFLUENCE OF PARENTAL CHARACTER. 295 the waters. And, perhaps, after he has been in his grave twenty years, his son remembers what his father told him. Besides, Parental Influence must be great, because God has said that it shall be so. The parent is not to stand reasoning and calculating. God lias said that his character shall have influence. And this appointment of Providence, becomes often the punishment of a wicked man. Such a man is a complete selfist. I am weary of hear- ing such men talk about their " family" — and their " family" — they " must provide for their family." Their family has no place in their real regard. They push for themselves. But God says—" No! You think your children shall be so and so. But they shall be rods for your own backs. They shall be your curse. They shall rise up against you." The most common of all human complaints is — Parents groaning under the vices of their children! This is all the effect of Parental In- fluence. In the exercise of this influence there are two leading dangers to be avoided. Excess of severity is one danger. My Mother, on the contrary, would talk to me, and weep as she talked. I flung out of the house with an oath — but wept too when I got into the street. Sym- pathy is the powerful engine of a mother. I was desperate: I would go on board a privateer. But 296 REMAINS. there are soft moments to such desperadoes. God does not, at once, abandon them to themselves. There are times when the man says — " I should be glad to return : but I should not like to meet that face!" if he has been treated with severity. Yet excess of laxity is another danger. The case of Eli affords a serious warning on this sub- ject. Instead of his mild expostulation on the flagrant wickedness of his sons — Nay, my sons, it is no good report that I hear — he ought to have exercised his authority as a parent and magistrate in punishing and restraining their crimes. REMARKS ON AUTHORS. W HEN I look at the mind of Lord Bacon — it seems vast, original, penetrating, analogical, beyond all competition. When I look at his character — it is wavering, shuffling, mean. In the closing scene, and in that only, he appears in true dignity, as a man of profound contrition. Baxter surpasses, perhaps, all others, in the grand, impressive, and persuasive style. But he is not to be named with Owen as to furnishing the student's mind. He is, however, multifarious, complex, practical. Clarke has, above all other men, the faculty of lowering the life and spiritual sense of Scripture to such perfection, as to leave it like dry bones, divested of every particle of marrow or oil. South is nearer the truth. He tells more of it: but he *298 REMAINS. tells it with the tongue of a viper, for he was most bitterly set against the Puritans. But there is a spirit and life about him. He must and will be heard. And, now and then, he darts on us with an unexpected and im comparable stroke. The modern German writers, and the whole school formed after them, systematically and in- tentionally confound vice and virtue, and argue for the passions against the morals and institutions of society. There never was a more dangerous book written, than one that Mrs. Wolstoncroft left imperfect, but which Godwin published after her death. Her " Wrongs of Women" is an art- ful apology for adultery : she labours to interest the feelings in favour of an adultress, by making her crime the consequence of the barbarous con- duct of a despicable husband, while she is painted all softness and sensibility. Nothing like this was ever attempted before the modern school. " Some men," said Dr. Patten to me, " are always crying Fire ! Fire !" To be sure — where there is danger, there ought to oe affectionate earnestness. Who would remonstrate, coldly and with indif- ference, with a man about to precipitate himself from Dover Cliff, and not rather snatch him forci- bly from destruction ? Truth, in its living influ- REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 299 ence on the heart, will shew itself in consecrated- ness and holy zeal. When teachers of religion are destitute of these qualities, the world readily infers that religion itself is a farce. Let us do the world justice. It has very seldom found a con- siderate, accommodating, and gentle, but withal earnest, heavenly, and enlightened teacher. When it has found such, Truth has received a very ge- neral attention. Such a man was Hervey, and his works have met their reward. Homer approaches nearest of all the heathen poets to the grandeur of Hebrew Poetry. With the theological light of Scripture, he would have wonderfully resembled it. Hooker is incomparable in strength and sanctity. His first books are wonderful. I do not so per- fectly meet him, as he advances toward the close. Loskiel's " Account of the Moravian Missions among the North American Indians" has taught me two things. I have found in it a striking illustration of the uniformity ivith which the grace of God operates on men. Crantz, in his " Account of the Missions in Greenland," had shewn the grace of God working on a Man-Fish : on a stupid 300 REMAINS. — sottish — senseless creature — scarcely a remove from the fish on which he Hired. Loskiel shews the same grace working on a Man-Devil : a fierce — bloody — revengeful warrior — dancing his infer- nal war-dance with the mind of a fury. Divine grace brings these men to the same point. It quickens, stimulates, and elevates theGreenlander : it raises him to a sort of new life : it seems almost to bestow on him new senses : it opens his eye, and bends his ear, and rouses his heart : and what it adds - it sanctifies. The same grace tames the high spirit of the Indian : it reduces him to the meekness, and docility, and simplicity of a child. The evidence arising to Christianity from these facts is, perhaps, seldom sufficient, by itself, to convince the gainsay er : but, to a man who already believes, it greatly strengthens the reasons of his belief. I have seen also in these books, that the fish-boat, and the oil, and the tomahawk, and the cap of fea- thers excepted — a Christian Minister has to deal with just the same sort of creatures, as the Green- lander and the Indian, among civilized nations. Owen stands at the head of his class of divines. His scholars will be more profound and enlarged, and better furnished, than those of most other writers. His work on the Spirit has been my treasure-house, and one of my very first-rate books. Such writers as Riccaltoun rather REMARKS ON AUTHORS. SOI disqualify than prepare a minister for the imme- diate business of the pulpit. Original and pro- found thinkers enlarge his views, and bring into exercise the powers and energies of his own mind, and should therefore be his daily companions. Their matter must, however, be ground down be- fore it will be fit for the pulpit. Such writers as Owen, who, though less original, have united Detail with Wisdom, are copious in proper topics, and in matter better prepared for immediate use, and in furniture ready finished, as it were for the mind. Paley is an unsound casuist, and is likely to do great injury to morals. His extenuation of the crimes committed by an intoxicated man, for instance, is fallacious and dangerous. Multiply the crime of intoxication into the consequences that follow from it, and you have the sum total of the guilt of a drunken man. Rutherford's Letters is one of my classics, Were truth the beam, I have no doubt, that if Homer and Virgil and Horace and all that the world has agreed to idolize were weighed against that book, they would be lighter than vanity. He is a real original. There are in his Letters some inexpressibly forcible and arresting remonstrances with unconverted men. 302 REMAINS. I should not recommend a young Minister to pay much deference to the Scotch Divines. The Erskines, who were the best of them, are dry, and laboured, and prolix, and wearisome. He may find incomparable matter in them, but he should beware of forming his taste and manner after their model. I want a more kind-hearted and liberal sort of divinity. He had much better take up Bishop Hall. There is a set of excellent, but wrong- headed men, who would reform the London preachers on a more elaborate plan. They are not philosophers who talk thus. If Owen himself were to rise from the grave, unless it were for the influence of the great name which he would bring with him, he might close his days with a small congregation, in some little meeting-house. Shakspeare had alow and licentious taste. When he chose to imagine a virtuous and exalted cha- racter, he could completely throw his mind into it, and give the perfect picture of such a character. But he is at home in Falstaflf. No high, grand, virtuous, religious aim beams forth in him. A man, whose heart and taste are modelled on the Bible, nauseates him in the mass, while he is en- raptured and astonished by the flashes of his pre- eminent genius. REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 303 ** Have you read my Key to the Romans?" said Dr. Taylor, of Norwich, to Mr. Newton. — *' I have turned it over." — " You have turned it over ! And is this the treatment a book must meet with, which has cost me many years of hard study? Must I be told, at last, that you have i turned it over,' and then thrown it aside ? You ought to have read it carefully, and weighed de- liberately what comes forward on so serious a subject." — " Hold! You have cut me out full em- ployment, if my life were to be as long as Methu- selah's. I have somewhat else to do in the short day allotted me, than to read whatever any one may think it his duty to write. When I read, I wish to read to good purpose ; and there are some books, which contradict on the very face of them what appear to me to be first principles. You surely will not say I am bound to read such books. If a man tells me he has a very elaborate argu- ment to prove that two and two make five, I have something else to do than to attend to this argu- ment. If I find the first mouthful of meat which I take from a fine-looking joint on my table is tainted, I need not eat through it to be convinced I ought to send it away." I never read any sermons so much like Whit- field's manner of preaching, as Latimer's. You see a simple mind, uttering all its feelings; and 304 REMAINS. putting forth every thing as it comes, without any reference to books or men, with a naivetb seldom equalled. I admired Witsius's " (Economy of the Co- venants," but not so much as many persons. There is too much system. I used to study Com- mentators and Systems ; but I am come almost wholly, at length, to the Bible. Commentators are excellent, in general, where there are but few difficulties ; but they leave the harder knots still untied. I find in the Bible, the more 1 read, a grand peculiarity, that seems to say to all who attempt to systematize it — " I am not of your kind. I am not amenable to your methods of thinking. I am untractable in your hands. I stand alone. The great and wise shall never ex- haust my treasures. By figures and parables I will come down to the feelings and understandings of the ignorant. Leave me as I am, but study me incessantly." Calvin's Institutes are, to be sure, great and admirable, and so are his Com- mentaries ; but, after all, if we must have Com- mentators — as we certainly must — Poole is in- comparable, and I had almost said abundant of himself. Young is, of all other men, one of the most striking examples of the disunion of Piety from REMARKS ON AUTHORS. 305 Truth. If we read his most true, impassioned, and impressive estimate of the World and of Re" ligion, we shall think it impossible that he was uninfluenced by his subject. It is, however, a melancholy fact, that he was hunting after prefer- ment at eighty years old; and felt and spoke like a disappointed man. The truth was pictured on his mind in most vivid colours. He felt it, while he was writing. He felt himself on a retired spot ; and he saw Death, the mighty Hunter, pursuing the unthinking world. He saw Redemption — its necessity and its grandeur; and, while he looked on it, he spoke as a man would speak whose mind and heart are deeply engaged. Notwithstanding all this, the view did not reach his heart. Had T preached in his pulpit with the fervour and interest that his " Night Thoughts" discover, he Mould have been terrified. He told a friend of mine, who went to him under religious fears, that he lUUSt GO MORE INTO THE WORLD.' ON THE SCRIPTURES. X2 MISCELLANEOUS REMARKS, SCRIPTURES. 1 Am an entire disciple of Butler. He calls his book " Analogy;" but the great subject, from beginning to end, is human ignorance. Berkeley has done much to reduce man to a right view of his attainments in real knowledge ; but he goes too far: he requires a demonstration of self-evident truths : he requires me to demonstrate that that table is before me. Beattie has well replied to this error, in his " Immutability of Truth ;" though it pleased Mr. Hume to call that book — " Philo- sophy for the Ladies." Metaphysicians seem born to puzzle and con- found mankind. I am surprized to hear men talk of their having demonstrated such and such points. Even Andrew Baxter, one of the best of these metaphysicians, though he reasons and spe- culates well, has not demonstrated to my mind one single point by his reasonings. They know 310 REMAINS. nothing at all on the subject of moral and religious truth, beyond what God has revealed. I am so deeply convinced of this, that I can sit by and smile at the fancies of these men ; and especially when they fancy they have found out demon- strations. Why there are Demonstrators, who will carry the world before them; till another man rises, who demonstrates the very opposite, and then, of course, the world follows him! We are mere mites creeping on the earth, and oftentimes conceited mites too. If any Superior Being will condescend to visit us and teach us, something may be known. " Has God spoken to man?" This is the most important question that can be asked. All Ministers should examine this matter to the foundation. Many are culpably negligent herein. But, when this has been done, let there be no more questionings and surmises. My son is not, perhaps, convinced that I am en- titled to be his teacher. Let us try. If he finds that he knows more than I do — well : if he finds that he knows nothing, and submits — I am not to renew this conviction in his mind every time he chuses to require me to do so. If any honest and benevolent man felt scruples in his breast concerning Revelation, he would hide them there; and would not move wretched men from the only support, which they can have in this world. I am thoroughly convinced of the want of real integrity and benevolence in all ON THE SCRIPTURES. 311 Iufidels. And I am as thoroughly convinced of the want of real belief of the Scriptures, in most of those who profess to believe them. Metaphysicians can unsettle things, but they can erect nothing. They can pull down a church, but they cannot build a hovel. The Hutchin- sonians have said the best things about the Meta- physicians. I am no Hutchinsonian ; yet I see that they have data, and that there is something worth proving in what they assert. Principle is to be distinguished from prejudice. The man, who should endeavour to weaken my belief of the truth of the Bible, and of the fair deduction from it of the leading doctrines of Re- ligion, under the notion of their being prejudices, should be regarded by me as an assassin. He Stabs me ip my dearest hopes : he robs me of my solid happiness : and he has no equivalent to offer. This species of evidence of the truth and value of Scripture is within the reach of all men. It is my strongest. It assures me as fully as a voice could from heaven, that my principles are not prejudices. I see in the Bible my heart and the world painted to the life; and I see just that provision made, which is competent to the highest ends and effects on this heart and this world. 312 REMAINS. The Bible resembles an extensive and highly cultivated garden, where there is a vast variety and profusion of fruits and flowers : some of which are more essential or more splendid than others ; but there is not a blade suffered to grow in it, which has not its use and beauty in the system. Salvation for sinners, is the grand Truth presented every where, and in all points of light; but the pure in heart sees a thousand traits of the Divine Character, of himself, and of the world — some striking and bold, others cast as it were into the shade, and designed to be searched for and examined — some direct, others by way of inti- mation or inference. He, who reads the Scriptures only in the trans- lation, is but meanly prepared as a public teacher. The habit of reading the Scriptures in the original throws a new light and sense over numberless pas- sages. The original has, indeed, been obtruded so frequently, and sometimes so absurdly, on the hearers, that their confidence in the translation has been shaken. The judicious line of conduct herein, is — To think with the wise, and talk with the vulgar — to attain, as far as possible and by all means, the true sense and force of every passage; and, wherever that differs from the received trans- lation, work it in imperceptibly, that the hearers ON THE SCRIPTURES. 313 may be instructed while they receive no preju- dice against that form in which they enjoy the Scriptures. No man will preach the Gospel so freely as the Scriptures preach it, unless he will submit to talk like an Antinomian, in the estimation of a great body of Christians; nor will any man preach it so practically as the Scriptures, unless he will submit to be called, by as large a body, an Arminian. Many think that they find a middle path : which is, in fact, neither one thing nor another; since it is not the incomprehensible, but grand plan of the Bible. It is somewhat of human contrivance. It savours of human poverty and littleness. Were the Scriptures required to supply a direct answer to every question which even a sincere enquirer might ask, it would be impracticable. They form, even now, a large volume. The method of instruction adopted in them is, there- fore, this : — The rule is given : the doctrine is stated : examples are brought forward — cases in point, which illustrate the rule and the doctrine : and this is found sufficient for every upright and humble mind. 314 REMAINS. The simple and unprejudiced study of the Bible is the death of religious extravagance. Many read it under a particular bias of mind. They read books, written by others under the same views. Their preaching and conversation run in the same channel. If they could awaken themselves from this state, and come to read the whole Scripture for every thing which they could find there, they would start as from a dream — - amazed at the humble, meek, forbearing, holy, heavenly character of the simple religion of the Scriptures, to which, in a greater or less degree, their eyes had been blinded. The right way of interpreting Scripture, is, to take it as we find it, without any attempt to force it into any particular system. Whatever may be fairly inferred from Scripture, we need not fear to insist on. Many passages speak the language of what is called Calvinism, and that in almost the strongest terms : I would not have a man clip and curtail these passages, to bring them down to some system : let him go with them in their free and full sense ; for, otherwise, if he do not absolutely pervert them, he will attenuate their energy. But, let him look at as many more, which speak the language of Arminianism, and let him go all the way with these also. God has been pleased thus to state and to leave the thing ; ON THE SCRIPTURES. 315 and all our attempts to distort it, one way or the other, are puny and contemptible. A man may find much amusement in the Bible — variety of prudential instruction — abundance of sublimity and poetry : but, if he stops there, he stops short of its great end ; for, the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy. The grand secret in the study of the Scriptures, is, to discover Jesus Christ therein, the way, the truth, and the life. In reading the Scriptures, we are apt to think God farther removed from us, than from the Per- sons to whom He spake therein : the knowledge of God will rectify this error ; as if God could be farther from us than from them. In reading the Old Testament especially, we are apt to think that the things spoken there, in the prophet Hosea for instance, have little relation to us : the knowledge taught by Christian Experience will rectify this error ; as if religion were not always the same sort of transaction between God and the soul. There are two different ways of treating the Truths of the Gospel — the scientific and the 316 REMAINS. simple. It was seriously given me in charge, when I first entered into the Ministry, by a fe- male who attended my Church, that I should study Baxter's " Catholic Theology." I did so : but the best idea that I acquired from this labour was, that the most sagacious and subtle men can make out little beyond the plain, obvious, and broad statement of Truth in the Scriptures. I should think it a very proper and suitable punish- ment for a conceited and pragmatical dogmatist, to oblige him to digest that book. Another great truth, indeed, we may gather from it: and that is, that the intemperate men, on either side, are very little aware of the consequences, which may be legitimately drawn from their principles. Even Dr. Owen has erred. I would not compare him, in this respect, with Baxter ; for he has handled his points with far greater wisdom and simplicity : yet he errs ex abundanti. He attempts to make out things with more accuracy, and clearness, and system, than the Bible will warrant. The Bible scorns to be treated scientifically. After all your accurate statements, it will leave you aground. The Bible does not come round, and ask our opinion of its contents. It proposes to us a Con- stitution of Grace, which we are to receive, though we do not wholly comprehend it. Numberless questions may be started on the various parts of this Constitution. Much of it I cannot under- stand, even of what respects myself; but I am ON THE SCRIPTURES. 317 called to act on it. And this is agreeable to analogy. My child will ask me questions on the fitness or unfitness of what I enjoin : but I silence him : " You are not yet able to comprehend this : your business is, to believe me and obey me." But the Schoolmen will not be satisfied with this view of things: yet they can make nothing out satisfactorily. They have their de re, and their de nomine: but nothing is gained by these attempts at clearness and nice distinctions. These very accurate men, who think they adjust every thing with precision, cannot agree among one another, and do little else than puzzle plainer minds. Whatever definitions men have given of Reli- gion, I can find none so accurately descriptive of it as this — that it is such a belief of the Bible as maintains a living influence on the heart. Men may speculate, criticise, admire, dispute about, doubt, or believe the Bible; but the religious man is such, because he so believes it, as to carry habitually a practical sense of its truths on his mind. The fears of the general class of Christians are concerned about the superstructure of religion ; but those of speculative minds chiefly relate to the foundation. The less thinking man doubts 318 REMAINS. whether he is on the foundation : he, whose mind is of a more intellectual turn, doubts concerning the foundation itself. I have met with many of these specnlative cases. Attacks of this nature are generally sudden. A suspicion will, by sur- prise, damp the heart ; and, for a time, will paint the Bible as a fable. I have found it useful, on such occasions, to glance over the whole thread of Scripture. The whole, presented in such a view, brings back the mind to its proper tone : the indelible characters of Simplicity and Truth impress with irresistible effect that heart, which can discern them as having once felt them. OLD AND NEW DISPENSATIONS. J_ HE Old and New Testaments contain but one scheme of Religion. Neither part of this scheme can be understood without the other ; and there- fore, . great errors have arisen from separating them. They are like the rolls on which they were anciently written, before books of the pre- sent form were invented. It is but one subject and one system, from beginning to end ; but the view which we obtain of it grows clearer and clearer, as we unwind the roll that contains it. There is one grand and striking feature of dis- tinction between the spirit of the Old Testament Dispensation and that of the New. The Old Dispensation was a dispensation of limits, waymarks, forms, and fashions: every thing was weighed and measured: if a man did 320 REMAINS. but gather sticks on the Sabbath, he was to be stoned without mercy : if a Jew brought an offer- ing, it was of no avail if not presented at the door of the Tabernacle : the manner, the time, the cir- cumstances were all minutely instituted ; and no devotion or piety of spirit could exempt a man from the yoke of all these observances, for God had appointed these as the way in which he chose that a devout Jew should express his state of mind. But the New Dispensation changed the whole system. Religion was now to become more pe- culiarly a spiritual transaction between God and the soul ; and independent, in a higher measure than ever before, of all positive institutions. Its few simple institutions had no further object, than the preservation of the unity, order, soundness, and purity of the Church — in regard to doctrine, government, and discipline. Nor had these appointments that character of unaccommodating inflexibility, which marked the institutions of the Old Dispensation. All nations, men of all habits and manners, are to drink life from the beneficent stream as it flows. It is to throw down no obstructions, that are not abso- lutely incompatible with its progress. But it is appointed to pervade every place which it visits. Some, it enters without obstruction, and passes directly through. In some, it meets with mounds and obstacles ; yet rises till it finds an entrance. ON THE SCRIPTURES. 321 Others are so fenced and fortified, that it winds round them and flows forward : continuing to do so, till it, at length, finds some method of insinu- ating itself. And thus the Dispensation of Grace in the Church accommodates itself to the various tem- pers and habits which it finds in different ages, nations, and bodies of men : it leaves in existence numberless opinions and prejudices, if they are not inconsistent with its main design, and mingles and insinuates itself among them. It has not limited Christianity to any one form of Church Polity, ordained and perfected in all its parts by divine authority: but Christians are left to act herein according to circumstances, and to the exercise of sound discretion under those circum- stances. ON TYPICAL AND ALLEGORICAL EXPLANATIONS OF SCRIPTURE. 1 T might be expected, that, when God had deter- mined to send his Son into the world, there would be a train and concatenation of circumstances preparatory to his coming — that the History, which declared that he was to come, should ex- hibit many persons and things, which should form a grand preparation for the event, though not so many as an absurd fancy might imagine. There is a certain class of persons, who wish to rid themselves of the Types. Sykes insists that even the Brazen Serpent is called in by our Lord by way of illustration only, and not as a designed type. Robinson, of Cambridge, when he began to verge toward Socinianism, began to ridicule the types: and to find matter of sport in the pomegranates and the bells of the High Priest's garment. At all events, the subject should not be treated with levity and irreverence : it deserves serious reflection. With respect to the expediency of employing the types much in the pulpit, that is another ques- tion. I seldom employ them. I am jealous for ON THE SCRIPTURES. 323 Truth and its Sanctions. The Old Dispensation was a Typical Dispensation : but the New is a dispensation unrolled. When speaking of the Typical Dispensation, we must admire a master, like St. Paul. But to us, modesty becomes a duty in treating such subjects in our ministry. Remember, " This is none other but the house of God! and this is the gate of heaven ! How dread- ful if I lead thousands with nonsense! — if I lose the opportunity of impressing solid truths ! — if I waste their precious time !" A Minister should say to himself: I would labour to cut off occasions of objecting to the Truth. I would labour to grapple with men's consciences. I would shew them that there is no strange twist in our view of religion. I must avoid as much as possible, having my judgment called in ques- tion : many watch for this, and will avail them- selves of any advantage. Some who hear me, are thus continually seeking excuses for not listening to the warnings and invitations of the word : they are endeavouring to get out of our reach; but I would hold them fast with such passages as, " What shall a man give in exchange for his soul!" Many men labour to make the Bible their Bible. This is one way of getting its yoke off their necks. The meaning, however, of the Bi- ble, is the Bible. If I preach, then, on Imputed Righteousness, for instance, why should I preach from the shies pour down righteousness, and then Y2 324 REMAINS. anathematize men for not believing the doctrine, when it is not declared in the passage, and there are hundreds of places so expressly to the point? Most of the folly on this subject of allegorical interpretation, has arisen from a want of holy awe on the mind. An evil fashion may lead some men into it ; and so far, the case is somewhat extenu- ated. We should ever remember, however, that it is a very different thing to allegorize the New Dispensation from allegorizing the Old : the New is a Dispensation of substance and realities. When a careless young man, I remember to have felt alarms in my conscience from some preachers; while others, from this method of treat- ing their subjects, let me off easily. I heard the man as a weak allegorizer : I despised him as a foolish preacher: till I met with some plain, simple, solid man who seized and urged the ob- vious meaning. I shall, therefore, carry to my grave a deep conviction of the danger of entering far into typical and allegorical interpretations. Accommodation of Scripture, if sober, will give variety. The Apostles do this so far as to shew that it may have its use and advantage. It should, however, never be taken as a ground-work, but employed only in the way of allusion. I may use the passage There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, by way of allusion to Christ ; but I cannot employ it as the ground-work of a dis- course on him. ON THE DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS, AND, ON CORRECTING THE DEFECTS IN OUR CHARACTER. _lN DISCOVERING AND COUNTERACTING THE DEFECTS OF OUR OWN CHARACTER, it is of chief importance that we really intend to ascertain the truth. The intention is extremely defective in us all. The man, who thinks he has such honest intention, yet has it very imperfectly. He says — " Touch me : but touch me like a Gentleman. Do not intrude on the delicacies of society. The real meaning of which is, that he has no intention of hearing- the truth from you. A man, who has a wound to be healed, comes to the surgeon with such an intention to get it healed, that if he sus- pected his skill or his fidelity he would seek another. Intention, or a man's really desiring to know the truth concerning himself, would produce 326 REMAINS. attention. He would soon find, that there is little close business in a man, who does not withdraw from the world. He will begin with self-suspicion. " Perhaps I am such or such a man. I see defects in all my friends, and I must be a madman not to suppose that I also have mine. I see defects in my friends, which they not only do not themselves see; but they will not suffer others to shew these defects to them. 1 must, therefore, take it for granted that I am a more foolish and pragmatical fellow than I can conceive." If he begin thus, then he will be willing to pro- ceed a step further: " Let me try if I cannot reach these defects ." I have found out myself by seeing my picture in another man. I would choose men of my own constitution : other men would give me no proper picture of myself. In such men, I can see actions to be ridiculous or absurd, when I could not have seen them to be so in myself. We may learn some features of our portrait from enemies : an enemy gives a hard feature probably, but it is often a truer likeness than can be obtained from a friend. What with your friend's tenderness for you, and your own tenderness for yourself, you cannot get at the true feature. We should, moreover, encourage our friends. You cannot, in one case in ten, go to a man on a business of this nature, without offending him. He will allege such and such DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 327 excuses for the defect, and fritter it away to no- thing. This shews the hypocrisy — the falsehood — the self-love — and the flattery of the heart. This endeavour to conceal or palliate defects, instead of a desire to discover them, grows up with us from infancy. There is something so de- ceitful in sin ! A man is brought to believe his own lie! He is so accustomed to hide himself from himself, that he is surprised when another detects and unmasks him. Hazael verily believed himself incapable of becoming what the prophet foretold. Many motives urge us to attempt a rectification of our defects. Consider the importance of cha- racter: he, who says he cares not what men think of him, is on a very low form in the school of experience and wisdom : character and money effect almost every thing. It should be consi- dered, too, how much we have smarted for want of attending to our defects : nineteen out of twenty of our smarting times, arise from this cause. In counteracting our defects, however, we should be cautious not to blunder by imitation of others. There are such men in the world as Saint-Errants. One of these men takes up the history of Ignatius Loyola; and nothing seems worthy of his endeavour, but to be just such a man in all the extravagancies of his character and conduct. We should search till we find where our character fails, and then amend it — not at- tempt to become another man. 328 REMAINS. A wise man, who is seriously concerned to learn the truth respecting himself, will not spurn it even from a fool. The great men, who kept fools in their retinue, learnt more truth from them than from their companions. A real self-observer will ask whether there is any truth in what the fool says of him. Nay, a truth, that may be uttered in envy or anger, will not lose its weight with him. The man, who is determined to find happi- ness, must bear to have it even beaten into him. No man ever found it by chance, or " yawned it into being with a wish." When I was young, my mother had a servant whose conduct I thought truly wise. A man was hired to brew; and this servant was to watch his method, in order to learn his art. In the course of the process, some- thing was done which she did not understand. She asked him, and he abused her with the vilest epithets for her ignorance and stupidity. My mother asked her when she related it, how she bore such abuse. " I would be called," said she, worse names a thousand times, for the sake of the information which I got out of him." If a man would seriously set himself to this work, he must retire from the crowd. He must not live in a bustle. If he is always driving through the business of the day, he will be so in harness as not to observe the road he is going. He must place perfect standards before his eyes. Every man has his favourite notions ; and, DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 329 therefore, no man is a proper standard. The perfect standard is only to be found in Scripture. Elijah meets Ahab, and holds up the perfect standard before his eyes, till he shrinks into him- self.* I have found great benefit in being sickened and disgusted with the false standards of men. I turn, with stronger convictions, to the perfect standards of God's Word. He should also commune with his own heart upon his bed — " How did I fall, at such or such a time, into my peculiar humours ! Had any other man done so, I should have lost my patience Avith him." Above all, he must make his defects matter of constant prayer — Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there he any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. Men are to be estimated, as Johnson says, by the mass of character. A block of tin may have a grain of silver, but still it is tin ; and a block of silver may have an alloy of tin, but still it is silver. The mass of Elijah 's character was excellence ; yet he was not without the alloy. The mass of Jehu's character was base : yet he had a portion of zeal which was directed by God to great ends. J5ad men are made the same use of as scaffolds : * 1 Kings xviii \7, &e. 330 REMAINS. they are employed as means to erect a building, and then are taken down and destroyed. We must make great allowance for constitution. I could name a man, who, though a good man, is more unguarded in his tongue than many immoral persons : shall I condemn him ? he breaks down here, and almost here only. On the other hand, many are so mild and gentle, as to make one wonder how such a character could be formed without true grace entering into its composition. God has given to every man a peculiar constitu- tion. No man is to say " I am such or such a man, and I can be no other — such or such is my way, and I am what God made me." This is true, in a sound sense ; but, in an unsound sense, it has led men foolishly and wickedly to charge their eccentricities, and even their crimes, on God. It is every man's duty to understand his own con- stitution ; and to apply to it the rein or the spur, as it may need. All men cannot do, nor ought they to do, all things in the same way, nor even the same things. But there are common points of duty, on which all men of all habits are to meet. The free horse is to be checked, perhaps, up-hill, and the sluggish one to be urged : but the same spirit, which would have exhausted itself before, DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 331 shews itself probably in resistance clown-hill, when he feels the breeching press upon him be- hind — but he must be whipped out of his re- sistance. There is a large class of Christians, who want discrimination in religion. They are sound and excellent men, but they are not men of deep experience. They are not men of Owen's, Gilpin's, Rutherford's, Adam's, or Brainerd's school. They have a general, but not a minute acquaint- ance, with the combat between Sin and Grace in the heart. I have learnt not to bring deeply ex- perimental subjects before such persons. They cannot understand them, but are likely to be dis- tressed by them. This difference between per- sons of genuine piety arises from constitution — or from the manner in which the grace of God first met them — or from the nature and degree of temptation through which God has led them. A mind finely constituted, or of strong passions — a mind roused in its sins, rather than one drawn in- sensibly — a mind trained in a severe school for high services — is generally the subject of this deeply interior acquaintance with religion. . There is a great diversity of character among real Christians. Education, Constitution, and Cir- cumstances will fully explain this diversity. 332 REMAINS. He has seen but little of life, who does not dis- cern every where the effects of education on men's opinions and habits of thinking. Two children bring out of the nursery that, which dis- plays itself throughout their lives. And who is the man, that can rise above his dispensation, and can say " You have been teaching me nonsense?" As to constitution— look at Martin Luther: we may see the man every day : his eyes, and nose, and mouth attest his character. Look at Melanchton : he is like a snail with his couple of horns: he puts out his horns and feels — and feels — and feels. No education could ^iave rendered these two men alike. Their difference began in the womb. Luther dashes in saying his things: Melanchton must go round about — he must con- sider what the Greek says, and what the Syriac says. Some men are born minute men — lexico- graphers—of a German character ; they will hunt through libraries to rectify a syllable. Other men are born keen as a razor : they have a sharp, severe, strong acumen : they cut every thing to pieces : their minds are like a case of instruments ; touch which you will, it wounds ; they crucify a modest man. Such men should aim at a right knowledge of character. If they attained this, they would find out the sin that easily besets them. The greater the capacity of such men, the greater their cruelty. They ought to blunt their instruments. They ought to keep them in DIVERSITY OF CHARACTER IN CHRISTIANS. 333 a case. Other men are ambitious — fond of power : pride and power give a velocity to their motions. Others are born with a quiet, retiring mind. Some, are naturally fierce, and others naturally mild and placable. Men often take to themselves great credit for what they owe entirely to nature. If we would judge rightly, we should see that nar- rowness or expansion of mind, niggardliness or generosity, delicacy or boldness, have less of merit or demerit than we commonly assign to them. Circumstances, also, are not sufficiently taken into the account, when we estimate character. For example — we generally censure the Reformers and Puritans as dogmatical, morose, systematic men. But, it is easier to walk on a road, than to form that road. Other men laboured, and we have entered into their labours. In a fine day, I can walk abroad ; but, in a rough and stormy day, I should find it another thing to turn Coachman and dare all weathers. These men had to bear the burden and heat of the day: they had to fight against hard times : they had to stand up against learning and power. Their times were not like ours : a man may now think what he will, and nobody cares what he thinks. A man of that school was, of course, stiff, rigid, unyielding. Tuckney was such a man : Whichcot was for smoothing things, and walking abroad. We see circumstances operating in many other ways. A 334 REMAINS. Minister unmarried, and the same man married, are very different men. A Minister in a small parish, and the same man in a large sphere where his sides are spurred and goaded, are very dif- ferent men. A Minister on tenter-hooks — ha- rassed — schooled, and the same man nursed — cherished — put into a hot-house, are very different men. Some of us are hot-house plants. We grow tall : not better — not stronger. Talents are among the circumstances which form the diversity of character. A man of talents feels his own powers, and throws himself into that line which he can pursue with most success. Saurin felt that he could flourish — lighten — thunder — enchant like a magician. Every one should seriously con- sider, how far his talents and turn of mind and circumstances drive him out of the right road. It is an easy thing for a man of vigour to bring a quiet one before his bar : and it is as easy for this quiet man to condemn the other : yet both may be really pious men — serving God with their best powers. Every man has his peculiar gift of God ; one after this manner, and the other after that. FALLEN NATURE OF MAN. L seem to acquire little new knowledge on any subject, compared to that which I acquire con- cerning man. This subject is inexhaustible. I have lately read Colquhon's Treatise on the " Police of the Metropolis," and Barruel's " Me- moirs of Jacobinism." When we preachers draw pictures of human nature in the pulpit, we are told that we calumniate it. Calumniate it ! — Let such censurers read these writers, aud confess that we are novices in painting the vices of the heart. All of us live to make discoveries of the evils of the heart — not of its virtues. All our new knowledge of human nature is occupied with its evil. Bartholomew Fair is one of the most perfect exhibitions of unrestrained human nature in the whole world. The Monkey, the Tyger, the Wolf, the Hog, and the Goat, are not only to be found in their own, but in human form ; with all 336 REMAINS. their savageness, brutality, and filthiness. It displays human nature in its most degraded, ridi- culous, and absurd conditions. The tyger may be seen in a quiescent state, if we pass through Dyot Street: he couches there: he blinks. But, at Bartholomew Fair, he is rampant — vigorous — fierce. Passing through a Fair in a country town, I witnessed a most instructive scene. Two withered, weather-beaten wretches were standing at the door of a show-cart, and receiving two- pences from sweet, innocent, ruddy country girls, who paid their money, and dropped their curtsies; while these wretches smiled at their simplicity, and clapped them on the back as they entered the door. What a picture this of Satan! He sets off his shows, and draws in heedless creatures, and takes from them every thing they have good about them ! There was a fellow dressed out as a zany, with a hump back and a hump belly, a lengthened nose, and a lengthened chin. To what a depth of degradation must human nature be sunk, to seek such resources ! I derived more instruction from this scene, than I could have done from many elaborate theological treatises. View man on whatever side we can — in his sen- sualities, or in his ferocities— in the sins of his flesh, or in the sins of his spirit: — catch him when and where you will—his condition is ON THE FALLEN NATURE OF MAN. 337 deplorable. While he is sunk in the mass himself, he has no perception of his state : but, when he begins to emerge, he looks down with amazement. He sees but little, however, of its abomination ; because he has still an affinity with the evil. Human nature is like the sea, which gains by the flow of the tide in one place, what it has lost by the ebb in another. A man may acquiesce in the method which God takes to mortify his pride; but he is in danger of growing proud of the mor- tification: and so in other cases. NEED OF GRACE. X HERE is something so remarkable in the genius and spirit of the Gospel, that it is not to be understood by any force of speculation and investigation! Baxter attempted this method, and found it vain. The state of the heart has the chief influence, in the search after truth. Humility, contrition, simplicity, sanctity — these are the handmaids of the understanding in the investigation of religion. How is it that some men labour in divine things night and day, but labour in vain? How is it that men can turn over the Bible from end to end, to support errors and heresies — absurdities and blas- phemies? They take not the spirit with the word. A spiritual understanding must be given — a gracious perception — a right taste. ON THE NEED OF GRACE. 339 " A very extraordinary thing" said one, " if I, who have read the Bible over and over in the original languages — have studied it day and night — and have written criticisms and comments on it: a very extraordinary thing that I should not be able to discover that meaning in the Scriptures, which is said to be so plain that a way-faring man though a fool shall not err in discovering it !" And so it is extraordinary till we open this Bible; and there we see the fact explained. The man who approaches the word of God in his own wisdom, shall not find what the fool shall discover under the teaching of divine wisdom: For it isiuritten, I will destroy the ivisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent — and God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise. God, in his Providence, seems to make little account of the measures and contrivances of men, in accomplishing his designs. He will do the work, and his hand will be seen in the doing of it. We are obliged to wait for the tide. When that flows, and the wind sets in fair, let us hoist the sails. When the tide has left a ship on the beach, an army may attempt to move it in vain ; but, when she is floated by the water, a small force moves her. We must wait for openings in Provi- Z2 340 REMAINS. dence. In this light I view the darkness of the Heathen World. Let us follow every apparent leading- of Providence, in our endeavours to com- municate light to the Heathen ; but, still, the opening and the whole work must be of God. Thousands, indeed, hear the Gospel, who are no more impressed by it than though they were Heathens. The minds of some men will stand as it were a regular blockade, and yet yield to a side-blow — sit unchanged under a searching mi- nistry, and yet fall beneath a casual word. I know such cases. We might account, indeed, for them, in some measure, as philosophers. The mind, which plants itself against and repels the formal and avowed attacks of the preacher, may be surprized by a hint addressed, perhaps, to ano- ther: yet, after all, the whole work is of God. We may make very little, therefore, of the ve- hicle. The Gospel — the wants of men — the in- disposition of the heart— and the mighty power of God — are always and universally the same. By whatever vehicle God conveys that mighty energy, which disposes man to find the relief of his wants in the Gospel, he still is the worker. It is a di- vine operation of God's Holy Spirit. If God would raise up Heathen Princes with the spirit of Peter the Great or Kouli Khan, and send them forth under the powerful influence of Christianity to proselyte their subjects, we might expect the ON THE NEED OF GRACE. 341 end to be accomplished: but this is a scheme suited to our littleness, and not to Him, whose thoughts are not as our thoughts, and whose ways are not as our ivays. A lady proposed to me a case, which seemed to her to decide against those views of religion called evangelical. She knew a most amiable girl, who was respectful and attentive to her parents, and engaging and lovely to all connected with her: who had, however, no objection to seeing a play ; and had certainly nothing of that, which she knew I should call religion : but she asked if I could believe that God would condemn such a character to everlasting misery. Many persons view things in this way. They set them- selves up to dictate to God what should be done, on points which he only can determine. If these persons are ever cured of this evil, it must pro- bably be in some such way as that by which it pleased God to teach Job. Job could assert his integrity and his character against the arguments of his friends ; but, when God asked Where ivast thou, when J laid the foundations of the earth ? Job prostrates his soul with this declaration — / have heard of thee with the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. 342 REMAINS. Every thinking man will look round him, when he reflects on his situation in this world; and will ask, " What will meet my case? What is it that I want? What will satisfy me? I look at the rich — and I see Ahab, in the midst of all his riches, sick at heart for a garden of herbs ! I see Dives, after all his wealth, lifting up his eyes in hell, and begging for a drop of water to cool the rage of his sufferings ! I see the Rich Fool summoned away, in the very moment when he was exulting in his hoards! If I look at the wise — I see Solomon, with all his wisdom, acting like a fool ; and I know, that, if I possessed all his wisdom, were I left to myself I should act as he did. I see Ahithophel, with all his policy, hanging himself for vexation ! If I turn to men of pleasure — I see that the very sum of all pleasure is, that it is Satan's bed into which he casts his slaves ! I see Esau selling his birth-right for a mess of pot- tage! I see Solomon, after all his enjoyments, leaving his name a scandal to the Church to the latest age! If I think of honour — take a walk in Westminster Abbey — there is an end of all en- quiry. There I walk among the mighty dead! There is the winding up of human glory! And what remains of the greatest men of my country? — A boasting epitaph! None of these things, then, can satisfy me! I must meet death— I must meet judgment — I must meet God — I must meet Eternity! ON THE OCCASIONS OF ENMITY AGAINST CHRISTIANITY, JL HE cause of enmity against real Christianity is in the heart. The angel Gabriel might exhibit the truth, but the heart would rise in enmity. To suppose that there is any way of preaching the Cross so as not to offend the world, is to know nothing of the subject. There are many occasions, however, of calling forth this enmity. Any man, who should bleed me, would put me to pain ; but he would greatly aggravate my pain, if he rudely tore my skin. Occasions may render the reception of that truth morally impossible, which, under the most favour- able circumstances, is received with difficulty. Ignorance, in Ministers, is an occasion of ex- citing enmity against Christianity. A man may betray ignorance on almost every subject, except the way of salvation. But if others see him to be a fool off his own ground, they will think him a 344 REMAINS. fool on that ground. It is a great error to rail against Human Learning, so as to imply an under- valuing of Knowledge. A man may have little of what is called learning, but he must have know- ledge. Bunyan was such a man. Religious profession was, at first, a conflict — a sacrifice : now it is become a trade. The world sees this spirit pervade many men: and it is a great occasion of enmity. Men of learning and character have confirmed this impression : they have brought out this mischief, and exhibited it to the world. Let any man look into Warbur- ton's " Doctrine of Grace,'' and he may sit down and wonder that God should suffer such occasions of enmity to arise. Fanatical times furnish another occasion. The days of Cromwell, for instance. The great enemy of godliness will never want instruments to make the best of such subjects of ridicule. As long as such a book as Butler's Hudibras is in the world, it will supply occasions of enmity against real religion. An UNHOLY, INSOLENT PROFESSOR OF RELI- GION occasions enmity. He scorns and insults mankind. His spirit is such as to give them occa- sion of contemning the truth which he professes. The world will allow some men to call it to ac- count : they will feel a weight of character in a holy and just man. Eccentricity, in religious men, is another ON ENMITY AGAINST CHRISTIANITY. 345 occasion of enmity. Ask an eccentric man a question: he will stare in your face, and look very spiritual. I knew one of these men who called out to a farmer as he was passing', "Farmer! what do you know of Jesus Christ?" Much spiritual pride lurks under this conduct. There is want of breeding and good-sense. The world is led to form wrong associations by such characters : " Religion makes a man a fool, or mad : therefore I will not become religious." Injudicious preaching increases the offence of the Cross. Strange interpretations of Scrip- ture — ludicrous comparisons — silly stories — talk- ing without thinking: — these are occasions of enmity. The loose and indiscreet conduct of Pro- fessing Christians, particularly of Ministers, is another occasion. The world looks at Ministers out of the pulpit, to know what they mean when in it. An ostentatious spirit in a professor of reli- gion does great injury — that giving out that he is some great one. Even a child will often detect this spirit, when we think no one discovers it. The manner of conducting the devotional part of public service is sometimes offensive. It is as much as to say, " We mean nothing by this service*. Have patience, and you shall hear me !" * Exod xH 2G. 346 REMAINS. Slighting the offence of irregularity has done much harm. It was a wise reply of a Spanish Minister to his King ; " Omit this affair : it is but a Ceremony!" — "A Ceremony! Why the King is a Ceremony !" Good men have given occasion of offence by MAINTAINING SUSPICIOUS CONNECTIONS. There is a wide difference between my not harassing and exposing a doubtful character, and my in- dorsing and authenticating him. Contempt of men's prejudices of educa- tion will offend. It was not thus with St. Paul : / am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some. A WANT OF THE SPIRIT OF THE CROSS IN ITS professors increases the offence of the cross — that humility, patience, and love to souls, which animated Christ when he offered himself on the Cross for the sins of the world. These are some of the stumbling-blocks in the way of the world. And woe unto the world, says our Lord, because of offences ! for it must needs be that offences come, but woe unto him by whom the offence comet h ! Every man, who is zealous for the diffusion of true religion, should keep his eye on all occasions of offence, since religion, of itself and in its own native beauty, has to encoun- ter the natural enmity of the degenerate heart. ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. T is difficult to speak on the subject of reli- gious retirement. I am fully persuaded that most religious tradesmen are defective in this duty, those especially in this great city. I tell every one of them so with whom I am intimately acquainted, and they all contest the point with me. Yet there are some considerations, which, in my own private judgment concerning the thing, lead me to think that the religion of a great city is to be viewed in an aspect of its own. I say not this to those men whom I see endangered by the spirit of such a place. Give them an inch, and they will take an ell. But I learn from it to aim at possibilities, and not to bend the bow till it breaks. I say, every where and to all — " You must hold intercourse with God, or your soul will die. You must walk with God, or Satan will walk with you. You must grow in grace, or you will lose it : and you cannot do this, but by appropriating 348 REMAINS. to this object a due portion of your time, and dili- gently employing suitable means." But, having said this, I leave it. I cannot limit and define to such men the exact way in which they must apply these principles, but the principles themselves I insist on. What I ought to do myself under my circumstances, I know ; and what I ought to do were I in trade, I seem now to know : but what I really should do were I in trade, I know not ; and, because I know it not, I am afraid, in telling another man precisely how he ought to apply this principle, that I should act hypocritically and pharisaically. Stated seasons of retirement ought to be appointed and religiously observed, but the time and the measure of this retirement must be left to a man's own judgment and conscience. I am restrained from dogmatizing on this sub- ject, by reflecting on the sort of religion which seems in fact to be best suited to human nature itself; and especially to human nature harassed, worried, loaded, and urged as it is in this great city. But I am restrained also by another considera- tion. — Difference of character seems to stamp a holy variety on the operation of religious principle. Some men live in a spirit of prayer, who are scarcely able to fix themselves steadily to the solemn act of prayer. Our characters are so much our own, that if a man were to come into my family in order to form himself on my model, ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 349 and to imitate me for a month, it might seriously injure him. I have a favourite walk of twenty steps in my study and chamber : that walk is my oratory : but if another man were obliged to walk as he prayed, it is very probable he could not pray at all. In defining the operation of religious principle, I am afraid of becoming an Albert Durer. Albert Durer gave rules for forming the perfect figure of a man. He marked and defined all the relations and proportions. Albert Durer's man became the model of perfection in every Academy in Europe ; and now every Academy in Europe has abandoned it, because no such figure was ever found in na- ture. I am afraid of reducing the variety, which, to a certain degree, may be of God's own forming, to my notion of perfection. " You must maintain and cultivate a spirit of devotion" — I say to all : " but be ye judges, as conscientious men, of the particular means suited to your circumstances." The spirit of devotion should be our great aim. We are, indeed, buried in sense, and cannot pos- sibly attain or improve this spirit, but by proper means ; yet these means are to be adapted and varied to character and situation. " I must walk with God. In some way or other, whatever be my character or profession, I must acquire the holy habit of connecting every thing that passes in my house and affairs, with God. If sickness or health visit my family, my 350 REMAINS. eye must see and my heart must acknowledge the hand of God therein. Whether my affairs move on smoothly or ruggedly, God must be acknow- ledged in them. If I go out of my house or come into it, I must go out and come in as under the eye of God. If I am occupied in business all day long, I must still have the glory of God in my view. If I have any affair to transact with another, I must pray that God would be with us in that affair, lest we should blunder, and injure and ruin each other."— This is the language of a real Christian. But, instead of such a spirit as this among the great body of tradesmen professing themselves religious — what do we see but a driving, impetuous pursuit of the world! — and, in this pursuit, not seldom — mean, low, suspicious, yea immoral practices ! Yet I once went to a friend for the express purpose of calling him out into the world. I said to him — " It is your duty to accept the loan of ten thousand pounds, and to push yourself forward into an ampler sphere." But he was a rare character: and his case was rare. His em- ployers had said, " We are ashamed you should remain so long a servant in our house, with the whole weight of affairs on you. We wish you to enter as a principal with us, and will advance you ten thousand pounds. It is the custom of the city — it is your due — we are dissatisfied to see you in your present sphere." I assured him that ON RELIGIOUS RETIREMENT. 351 it appeared to me to be his duty to accede to the proposal. But I did not prevail. He said — " Sir, I have often heard from you that it is no easy thing to get to heaven. I have often heard from you that it is no easy thing to master the world. I have every thing I wish. More would encumber me — increase my difficulties — and en- danger me." Solitude shews us what we should be : Society shews us what we are. Yet, in the theory, Soli- tude shews us our true character better than Society. A man in his closet will find Nature putting herself forth in actings, which the pre- sence of others would restrain him from bringing into real effect. She schemes and she wishes, here, without reserve. She is pure nature. An enlightened and vigilant self-observer is surprised and alarmed. He puts himself on his guard. He goes forth armed into the world. But Society shews him that nature is practically evil. The circumstances of the day as they arise carry him away. If he could abstract himself, and follow the actings of his own mind with an impartial eye, he could not believe himself to be the man who had entered into the world with such holy resolutions. 35*2 REMAINS. Recollection is the life of Religion. The Christian wants to know no new thing, but to have his heart elevated more above the world by secluding himself from it as much as his duties will allow, that Religion may effect this its great end by bringing its sublime hopes and prospects into more steady action on the mind. I know not how it is, that some Christians can make so little of Recollection and Retirement. 1 find the spirit of the world a strong assimilating principle. I find it hurrying my mind away in its vortex, and sinking me among the dregs and filth of a carnal nature. Even my ministerial employ- ments would degenerate into a mere following of my trade and crying of my wares. I am obliged to withdraw myself regularly, and to say to my heart " What are you doing ? — Where are you ?" ON A SPIRITUAL MIND. .LIU. Owen says, if a man of a carnal mind is brought into a large company, he will have much to do : if into a company of Christians, he will feel little interest : if into a smaller company en- gaged in religious exercises, he will feel still less: but if taken into a closet and forced to meditate on God and Eternity, this will be insupportable ! The spiritual man is born, as it were, into a new world. He has a new taste. He savours the things of the Spirit. He turns to God, as the needle to the pole. This is a subject of which many can understand but little. They want spiritual taste. Nay they account it enthusiasm. Bishop Horsley will go all the way with Christians into their princi- ples : but he thinks the feelings and desires of a spiritual mind enthusiastical. There are various CHARACTERISTICS of a spiritual mind. Self-loathing is a characteristic of such a mind. The axe is laid to the root of a vain-glo- rious spirit. f A a 35 4 REMAINS. It maintains, too, a walk and converse with God. Enoch walked with God. There is a trans- action between God and the spiritual mind : if the man feels dead and heartless, that is matter of complaint to God. He looks to God for wis- dom for the day — for the hour — for the business in hand. A spiritual mind refers its affairs to God. " Let God's will be obeyed by me in this affair ! His way may differ from that which I should choose : but let it be so ! Surely, I have behaved and quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child" A spiritual mind has something- of the nature of the sensitive-plant. " I shall smart if I touch this or that." There is a holy shrinking away from evil. A spiritual mind enjoys, at times, the influx OF A HOLY JOY AND SATISFACTION, which SU1'- prizes even itself. When bereaved of creature- comforts, it can sometimes find such a repose in Christ and his promises, that the man can say " Well ! it is enough : let God take from me what else he pleases !" A spiritual mind is a mortified mind. The Church of Rome talks much of mortification, but her mortification is not radical and spiritual. Simon Stylites will willingly mortify himself on his pillar, if he can bring people around him to pray to him to pray for them. But the spiritual ON A SPIRITUAL MIND. 355 mind must mortify itself in whatever would retard its ascent toward heaven: it must rise on the wings of faith, and hope, and love. A spiritual mind is an ingenuous mind. There is a sort of hypocrisy in us all. We are not quite stripped of all disguise. One man wraps round him a covering of one kind, and another of another. They, who think they do not this, yet do it though they know it not. Yet this spiritual mind is a sublime mind. It has a vast and extended view. It has seen the glory and beauty of Christ, and cannot therefore admire the goodly buildings of the Temple : as Christ, says Fenelon, had seen his Fathers House, and could not therefore be taken with the glory of the earthly structure ! I would urge young persons, when they are staggered by the conversation of people of the world, to dwell on the characteristics of a spiritual mind. " If you cannot answer their arguments, yet mark their spirit : and mark what a contrary spirit that is which you are called to cultivate." There are various MEANS of maintaining and promoting a spiritual mind. Beware of saying concerning this or that evil, Is it not a little one? Much depends on mortifying the body. There are silent marches which the flesh will steal on us : — the temper is too apt to rise : the tongue will let itself loose: the imagination, if liberty is given to it, will hurry us away. Vain company A a 2 356 REMAINS. will injure the mind : carnal professors of religion especially will lower its tone : we catch a con- tagion from such men. Misemployment of time is injurious to the mind : when reflecting, in ill- ness, on my past years, I have looked back with self-reproach on days spent in my study : I was wading through history, and poetry, and monthly journals; but I was in my study! Another man's trifling is notorious to all observers : but what am / doing ? — Nothing, perhaps, that has a reference to the spiritual good of my congregation! I do not speak against a chastized attention to literature, but the abuse of it. Avoid all idleness : Exercise thyself unto godliness : plan for God. Beware of temptation : the mind, which has dwelt on sinful objects, will be in darkness for days. Associate with spiritually-minded men: the very sight of a good man, though he says nothing, will refresh the soul. Contemplate Christ : be much in re- tirement and prayer: study the honour and glory of your Master. ON DECLENSION IN RELIGION. J\ CHRISTIAN may decline far in religion, without being suspected. He may maintain ap- pearances. Every thing seems to others to go on well. He suspects himself; for it requires great labour to maintain appearances ; especially in a Minister. Discerning hearers will, however, often detect such declensions. He talks over his old matters. He says his things, but in a cold and unfeeling manner. He is sound, indeed, in doc- trine ; perhaps more sound than before ; for there is a great tendency to soundness of doctrine, when appearances are to be kept up in a declining- state of the heart. Where a man has real grace, it may be part of a dispensation toward him that he is suffered to decline. He walked carelessly. He was left to decline, that he might be brought to feel his need of vigilance. If he is indulging a besetting sin, it may please God to expose him, especially if he is a high-spirited man, that he may hang down his 358 REMAINS. head as long as he lives. He acted thus toward David and Hezekiah. But this is pulling down, in order to build up again. The CAUSES of a decline in religion should be remarked : — The world has always much to do in religious declension. A Minister is tempted, perhaps, to sacrifice every thing to a name. If any appetite is suffered to prevail, it will stupify the mind : re- ligion is an abstract and elevated affair : The way of life is above to the ivise, to depart from hell beneath. Keeping on good terms with those who respect us, is a snare. A speculative turn of mind is a snare: it leads to that evil heart of unbelief which departs from the Living God. Vain confidence thinks himself in no danger: he knows the truth: he can dispute for the truth : " What should we fear?" Why, that we have no fear. Trifling with conscience, is a snare : no man indulges himself in anything which his conscience tells him ought not to be done, but it will at length wear away his spiritu- ality of mind. The SYMPTOMS of a religious decline are many : — When a Minister begins to depart from God and to lose a spiritual mind, he becomes fond sometimes of genteel company, who can en- tertain him, and who know how to respect his character ! This genteel spirit is suspicious : it is ON DECLENSION IN RELIGION. 359 associated with pride, and delicacy, and a love of ease : in short, it is the spirit of the world. It is the reverse of condescending to mean things : it is the reverse of the spirit of our Master. It is a symptom of decline, when a man will un- necessarily EXPOSE THE IMPERFECTIONS OF the religious world. " Such a man," he will say, " is fond of praying : but he is fond of money." This is the very opposite spirit to that of St. Paul, who speaks even weeping of those who mind earthly things. A violent sectarian spirit is a sign of reli- gious declension. Honest men stand firm for the vitals of religion. If the mind were right, the circumstantials of religion would not be made matters of fierce contention. The spirit of St. Paul was of another kind. If meat make my bro- ther to offend, I trill eat no meat while the world standeth lest I make my brother to offend — One believeth that he may eat all things: another icho is weak, eateth herbs. Let not him, that eateth, despise him that eateth not ; and let 7iot him, which eateth not, judge him that eateth. Aversion from reproof marks a state of reli- gious decline. The man cannot bear to have his state depicted, even in the pulpit. He calls the preaching, which searches and detects him, Ar- minian and legal. Hast thou found me, O mine enemy? Why should he quarrel with the truth ? If that truth is delivered in its just proportions, his quarrel is with God ! 360 REMAINS. Stupidity under chastisement proves a man to be under declension. He is not disposed to ask, Wherefore dost thou contend with me ? He is kicking against the pricks. He is stricken, but lias not grieved. He is chastised, as a bullock un- accustomed to the yoke. Such a man, too, has often a high mind. He is unhumbled — boasting — stout-hearted. He is ready to censure every one but himself. Unnecessary occupation is another evidence of declension. Some men are unavoidably much engaged in the world : to such men God will give especial grace, if they seek it ; and they shall maintain a spirit of devotion even in the bustle and occupation of their affairs. But some men will be rich, and therefore /a// into temptation and a snare : they will have shops in different parts of the town : they say they do not feel this affect their religious state : but I cannot believe them : a man is declined from God before he enters on such schemes : a spiritual and devout man will generally find the business in which he is already engaged a sufficient snare. In short, the Symptoms may be this or that, but the disease is a dead palsy. Ephraim I— he liath mixed himself among the people : Ephraim is a cake not turned. Strangers have devoured his strength, and he knoweth it not : yea, gray hairs are here and there upon him, yet he knoiceth it not. CHRISTIANS ASSOCIATING WITH IRRELIGIOUS PERSONS FOR THEIR GOOD. VvHRIST is an example to us of entering into mixed society. But our imitation of him herein must admit of restrictions. A feeble man must avoid danger. If any one could go into society as Christ did, then let him go : let him attend marriage-feasts and Pharisees 1 houses. Much depends on a Christian's observing his call — the openings which Providence may make before him. It is not enough to say that he frequents public company in order to retard the progress of evil. But, when in company of people of the world, we should treat them kindly and tenderly — with feeling and compassion. They should be assisted, if they are inclined to receive assistance. But if a Christian falls into the society of a mere worldling, it must be like the meeting of two per- sons in rain — they will part as soon as possible. If a man loves such company, it is an evil symptom. It is a Christian's duty to maintain a kind in- tercourse, if practicable, with his relatives. And 362 REMAINS. he must duly appreciate their state: if not religious, they cannot see and feel and taste his enjoyments : they accommodate themselves to him, and he accommodates himself to them. It is much a matter of accommodation on both sides. Avoid disgusting such friends unneces- sarily. A precise man, for instance, must be humoured. Your friends set down your religion, perhaps, as a case of humour. Cultivate good sense. If your friends per- ceive you weak in any part of your views and conduct, they will think you weak in your religion. Avoid vain jangling. There is a disposi- tion in such friends to avoid important and pinch- ing truth. If you will converse with them on the subject of religion, they will often endeavour to draw you on to such points as predestination. They will ask you what you think of the salvation of infants and of the heathen. All this is meant to throw out the great question. Seize favourable occasions — not only the " mollia tempora fandi;" but when public cha- racters and public events furnish occasions of profitable reflection. Bring before your friends the extreme child- ishness of a sinful state. Treat worldly amusements as puerile things. People of the world are sick at heart of their very pleasures. CHRISTIAN SABBATH. JIT belongs to our very relation to God, to set apart a portion of our time for his service : but, as it might have been difficult for conscience to determine what that portion should be, God has prescribed it : and the ground of the observance remains the same, whether the remembrance of God's resting from his work, or any other reason, be assigned as the more immediate cause. The Jewish Sabbath was partly of political in- stitution, and partly of moral obligation. So far as it was a political appointment, designed to preserve the Jews distinct from other nations, it is abrogated : so far as it was of moral obligation, it remains in force. Our Lord evidently designed to relax the strictness of the observance. Christianity is not a hedge placed round a peculiar people. A slave might enter into the spirit of Christianity, though obliged to work as a slave on the Sabbath : he might be in the Spirit on the Lord's Day, though in the mines of Patmos. 364 REMAINS. Difficulties often arise in respect to the ob- servance of the Sabbath. I tell conscientious persons, " If you have the spirit of Christianity, and are in an employment contrary to Christianity, you will labour to escape from it, and God will open your way," If such a man's heart be right, he will not throw himself out of his employment the first day he suspects himself to be wrong, but he will pray and wait till his way shall be opened before him. Christ came not to abolish the Sabbath, but to explain and enforce it, as he did the rest of the Law. Its observance was no where positively enjoined by him, because Christianity was to be practicable, and was to go into all nations: and it goes thither stripped of its precise and various circumstances. / ivas in the Spirit on the Lord's Day, seems to be the soul of the Christian Sabbath. In this view of the day, a thousand frivolous questions concerning its observance would be answered. " What can I do?'' says one: I an- swer, " Do what true servants of God will do. Bend not to what is wrong. Be in the Spirit. God will help you." In short, we are going to spend a Sabbath in Eternity. The Christian will acquire as much of the Sabbath-spirit as he can. And, in proportion to a man's real piety in every age of the Church, he will be found to have been a diligent observer of the Sabbath-Day. ON JUDGING JUSTLY. .A. PERFECTLY just and sound mind is a rare and invaluable gift. But it is still much more unusual to see such a mind unbiassed in all its actings. God has given this soundness of mind but to few ; and a very small number of those few escape the bias of some predilection, perhaps habitually operating ; and none are, at all times and perfectly, free. I once saw this subject forci- bly illustrated. A watch-maker told me that a gentleman had put an exquisite watch into his hands, that went irregularly. It was as perfect a piece of work as was ever made. He took it to pieces and put it together again twenty times. No manner of defect was to be discovered, and yet the watch went intolerably. At last it struck him, that, possibly, the balance-wheel might have been near a magnet. On applying a needle to it, he found his suspicion true. Here was all the mis- chief. The steel work in the other parts of the watch had a perpetual influence on its motions ; and the watch went as well as possible with a new wheel. If the soundest mind be magnetized by any predilection, it must act irregularly. 366 REMAINS. Prejudice is often the result of such strong asso- ciations, that it acts involuntarily, in spite of con- viction and resolution. The first step toward its eradication, is the persevering habit of presenting it to the mind in its true colours. If a man will look at most of his prejudices, he will find that they arise from his field of view being necessarily narrow, like the eye of the fly. He can have but little better notions of the whole scheme of things, as has been well said, than a fly on the pavement of St. Paul's Cathedral can have of the whole structure. He is offended, therefore, by inequalities, which are lost in the grand design. This persuasion will fortify him against many injurious and troublesome prejudices. Just judgment depends on the simplicity and the strength of the mind. The eye which con- veys a perfect idea of the scene to the mind, must be unclouded and strong. If the mental eye be not single, the judgment will be warped by some little, mean, and selfish interests; and, if it be not capable of a wide and distant range, the decision will be partial and imperfect. For example: a man, with either of these failings, will be likely to blind his eyes from the conviction, that would dart on him, when he places a son or ON JUDGING JUSTLY. 367 a friend in any sphere of influence, because he is his son or his friend ; when a single or a strong eye would shew him, that the interests of Reli- gion and Truth required him to prefer some other person. The mind must be raised above the petty interests and affairs of life, and pursue su- premely the glory of God and the Church. Some minds are so diseased, that they can see an affair only in that light, in which passion or predilection first presented it, or as it appears on the surface. The essence, the truth of the thing, which must give character to the whole, and on which all just decision must depend, may lie beneath the surface, and may be a nice affair. But such minds cannot enter into it. It is as though I should try to convince such persons — allowing me that the pineal gland is the seat of the soul — that however fair and perfect the form, the man wanted the essence of his being, in wanting that apparently insignificant part of his body. Such men would say, " Here is a striking and perfect form — all parts are harmonious — life ani- mates the frame — the machine plays admirably — what has this little, insignificant member to do with it?" And yet this is the essential and cha- racterizing part of the man. 368 REMAINS. Every man has a peculiar turn of mind, which gives a colouring and tinge to his thoughts. I have particularly detected this in myself with respect to public affairs. I have such an imme- diate view of God acting in them, that all the great men, who make such a noise and bustle on the scene, seem to me like so many mere puppets. God is moving them all, to effect His own designs. They cannot advance a step, whither He does not lead; nor stand a moment, where He does not place them. Now this is a view of things, which it is my privilege to take as a Christian. But the evil lies here. I dwell so much on the view of the matter, to which the turn of my mind leads me, that I forget sometimes the na- tural tendencies of things. God uses all things, but not so as to destroy their natural tendencies. They are good or evil, according to their own nature; not according to the use which He makes of them. The mind has a constant tendency to conform itself to the sentiments and cast of thinking with which it is chiefly conversant, either among books or men. If the influence remain undetected, it grows soon into an inveterate habit of obliquity. Even if it be detected, it is the most difficult thing hi the world to bring back the mind to the ON JUDGING JUSTLY. 369 standard, especially if there be anything in its constitution which assimilates itself to the error. I was once much in the habit of reading the mystical writers : a book of Dr. Owen's clearly convinced me that they erred : yet I found my mind ever inclining toward them, and winding round like the biassed bowl. I saw clearly the absurdity of the notions in their view of them, and yet I was ever talking of " self-annihilation" &c. : and am not even now rid of the thing. Bb ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. i DELIGHT to contemplate St. Paul as an ap- pointed pattern. Men might have questioned the propriety of urging on them the example of Christ : they might have said that we are necessarily in dissimilar circumstances. But St. Paul stands up in like case with ourselves — a model of minis- terial virtues. We consider him, perhaps, in point of charac- ter, more the immediate subject of extraordinary inspiration, than he was in reality. And this mis- take affects our view of him in two different ways. We suppose, at one time, that his virtues were so much the effect of extraordinary communica- tions, that he is no proper model for us ; whereas he was no farther fitted to his circumstances than every Christian has warrant to expect to be, so far as his circumstances are similar. At another time, perhaps, though we acknow- ledge and revere his distinguished character, yet our view of his virtues is exalted beyond due measure. We should remember, that, as he was ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. 371 fitted for his circumstances ; so he was, in a great degree, made by them. Many men are, doubt- less, executing their appointed task in retirement and silence, who would unfold a character beyond all expectation, if Providence were to lead them into a scene where the world rose up in arms, and they were sent forth into it under a clear convic- tion of an especial mission. The history of the Church seems to shew us that the effects of grace, ordinary or extraordinary, have been the same in all ages. In speaking of St. Paul, it has been usual to mag- nify his learning, among the many other great qualities which he possessed. That point seems never to have been satisfactorily made out. He was an educated Pharisee ; but, farther than this, I think we cannot go. His quotations from the Greek Poets are not evidences of even a school- boy's learning in our day : for we forget, when we talk of them, that he was a Roman quoting Greek. Nor do I see anything more in his famous speech in the Areopagus, so often produced as evidence on this Subject, than the line of argument to which a strong and energetic mind would lead him. If we talk of his talents, indeed, he rises almost be- yond admiration ; but they were talents of a cer- tain order ; and the very display which we have of them seems a strong corroborative proof, that B b 2 ^72 REMAINS. he is not to be considered as a profoundly learned man of his day. For instance, had he studied Aristotle, it would have been almost impossible but he must have caught some influence, which Ave should have seen in his writings. But there is nothing like the dry, logical metaphysical cha- racter of that school ; which yet had then given the law to the seats of science and philosophy. Instead of this, we see every where the copious, diffusive, declaiming, discursive ; but sublime, and wise, and effective mind. There is a true apostolicism in the character of St. Paul. It is a combination of zeal and LOVE. The Zeal of some men is of a haughty, un- bending, ferocious character. They have the letter of truth, but they mount the pulpit like prize-fighters. It is with them a perpetual scold. This spirit is a reproach to the Gospel. It is not the spirit of Jesus Christ. He seems to have laboured to win men. But there is an opposite extreme. The Love of some men is all milk and mildness ! There is so mucli delicacy, and so much fastidiousness ! They touch with such tenderness ! — and, if the patient shrinks, they will touch no more ! The times are too flagrant for such a disposition. The Gospel is sometimes preached in this way, till all ON THE CHARACTER OF ST. PAUL. 373 the people agree with the preacher. He gives no offence, and he does no good! But St. Paul united and blended love and zeal. He must win souls : but he will labour to do this by all possible lawful contrivances. 1 am made all things to all meti, that 1 might by all means save some. Zeal, alone, may degenerate into ferociousness and brutality : and love, alone, into fastidiousness and delicacy : but the Apostle com- bined both qualities ; and, more perfectly than other men, realized the union of the fortiter in re with the suaviter in modo. MISCELLANIES. JL HE Moravians seem to have very nearly hit on Christianity. They appear to have found out what sort of a thing it is — its quietness — meek- ness — patience — spirituality — heavenliness — and order. But they want fire. A very superior woman among them once said to me — that there wanted another body, the character of which should be combined from the Moravians and the Methodists. The Moravians have failed, in mak- ing too little of preaching ; as the Methodists have done, in making too much of it. The grandest operations, both in nature and in grace, are the most silent and imperceptible. The shallow Brook babbles in its passage, and is heard by every one : but the coming on of the Seasons is silent and unseen. The Storm rages and alarms; but its fury is soon exhausted, and its effects are partial and soon remedied : but the Dew, though gentle and unheard, is immense in MISCELLANIES. 375 quantity, and the very life of large portions of the earth. And these are pictures of the operations of Grace, in the Church and in the Soul. Atheism is a characteristic of our day. On the sentiments, manners, pursuits, amusements, and dealings of the great body of mankind, there is written in broad characters — without God in the world ! I have often had occasion to observe, that a warm blundering man does more for the world than a frigid wise man. A man, who gets into a habit of enquiring about proprieties and ex- pediencies and occasions, often spends his life without doing anything to purpose. The state of the world is such, and so much depends on action, that every thing seems to say loudly to every man, " Do something'—' 4 Do it"—" Do it." Providence is a greater mystery than Religion. The state of the world is more humiliating to our reason, than the doctrines of the Gospel. A reflecting Christian sees more to excite his as- tonishment and to exercise his faith in the state of things between Temple Bar and St. Paul's, than in what he reads from Genesis to Revelation. See 376 REMAINS. the description of the workings of God's Pro- vidence, in the account of the Cherubims in the 1st and 10th Chapters of Ezekiel. The scheme and machinery of Redemption may be illustrated by the water- works at Marly. We consider a part of that complicated machinery, and we cannot calculate on the effects ; but we see that they are produced. We cannot explain to a philosopher the system of Redemption, and the mode of conducting and communicating its benefits to the human soul ; but we know that it yields the water of life — Civilization, to a bar- barian — Direction, to a wanderer — Support, to those that are ready to perish. It is manifest that God designed to promote inter- course and commerce among men, by giving to each climate its appropriate productions. It is, in itself, not only innocent, but laudable. All Trade, however, which is founded in Embellish- ment, is founded in Depravity. So also is that Spirit of Trade, which pushes men on dangerous Competitions. Many tradesmen, professedly re- ligious, seem to look on their trade as a vast engine, which will be worked to no good effect, if it be not worked with the whole vigour of the soul. This is an intoxicating and ruinous mistake. MISCELLANIES. 377 i So far as they live under the power of religion, they will pursue their trade for sustenance and provision; but not even that, with unseasonable attention and with eagerness: much less will re- ligion suffer them to bury themselves in it, when its objects are something beyond these: and, least of all, will it leave them to deceive themselves with certain commercial maxims, so far removed from simplicity and integrity, that I have been often shocked beyond measure, at hearing them countenanced and adopted by some religious professors. Every man should aim to do one thing well. If he dissipates his attention on several objects, he may have excellent talents entrusted to him, but they will be entrusted to no good end. Con- centrated on his proper object, they might have a vast energy ; but, dissipated on several, they will have none. Let other objects be pursued, indeed; but only so far as they may subserve the main pur- pose. By neglecting this rule, I have seen Fri- volity and Futility written on minds of great power; and, by regarding it, I have seen very limited minds acting in the first rank of their pro- fession — I have seen a large capital and a great stock dissipated, and the man reduced to beg- gary ; and I have seen a small capital and stock improved to great riches. 378 REMAINS. To effect any purpose, in study, the mind must be concentrated. If any other subject plays on the fancy, than that which ought to be exclusively before it, the mind is divided; and both are neu- tralized, so as to lose their effect. Just as when I learnt two systems of short-hand. I was fa- miliar with Gurney's method, and wrote it with ease ; but, when I took it into my head to learn Byrom's, they destroyed each other, and I could write neither. There should be something obvious, determinate, and positive, in a man's reasons for taking a jour- ney; especially if he be a Minister. Such events and consequences may be connected with it in every step, that he ought, in no case, to be more simply dependent on the great Appointer of means and occasions. Several journies, which I thought myself called on to take, I have since had reason to think I should not have taken. Negative, and even doubtful reasons, may justify him in choosing the safer side of staying at home; but there ought to be something more in the reasons which put him out of his way, to meet the unknown conse- quences of a voluntary change of station. Let there always be a " Because" to meet the " Why?" MISCELLANIES. 379 I sometimes see, as T sit in my pew at St. John's during the Service, an idle fellow saunter into the Chapel. He gapes about him for a few minutes ; finds nothing to interest and arrest him ; seems scarcely to understand what is going forward; and, after a lounge or two, goes out again. I look at him, and think, " Thou art a wonderful creature ! A perfect miracle ! What a machine is that body ! curiously, — fearfully, — wonderfully framed ! An intricate — delicate — but harmonious and perfect structure! And, then, to ascend to thy soul ! — its nature — its capacities ! — its actual state! — its designation! its eternal condition! — I am lost in amazement!" — While he seems to have no more consciousness of all this, than the brutes which perish ! Sin, pursued to its tendencies, would pull God from his throne. Though I have a deep con- viction of its exceeding sinfulness, I live not a week without seeing some exhibition of its ma- lignity which draws from me — " Well ! who could have imagined this !" Sin would subjugate heaven, earth, and hell to itself. It would make the Universe the minion of its lusts, and all Being* bow down and worship. It is one of the most awful points of view in which we can consider God, that, as a righteous 380 REMAINS. Governor of the world, concerned to vindicate his own glory, he has laid himself under a kind of holy necessity to purify the unclean, or to sink him into perdition. It is one of the curses of Error, that the man, who is the subject of it, if he has had the op- portunity of being better informed, cannot pos- sibly do right, so far as he is under it. He has brought himself into an utter incapacity of acting virtuously : since it is vicious to obey an ill-in- formed conscience, if that conscience might have been better informed; and certainly vicious to disobey conscience, whether it be well or ill- informed. The approaches of sin are like the conduct of Jael. It brings butter in a lordly dish. It bids high for the soul. But, when it has fascinated and lulled the victim, the nail and the hammer are behind. I have met with one case in my ministry, very frequent and very distressing. A man says to me " I approve all you say. I see things to be just as you state them. I see a necessity, a propriety, a beauty in the religion of Christ. I see it to be interesting and important. But I do not feel it. MISCELLANIES. 381 I cannot feel it. I have no spirit of prayer. My heart belies my head : its affections refuse to follow my convictions." If this complaint be ingenuous, it is an evidence of grace; and I say " Wait for God, and he will appear." But, too often, it is not ingenuous: the heart is actually indisposed: some tyrant holds it in bondage. The complaint is a mockery— because there is no sincerity of en- deavour to obtain the object of which it pretends to lament the want — there is no sincere desire and prayer for the quickening and breathing of God's Holy Spirit on the torpid soul. The man who labours to please his neighbour for his good to edification, has the mind that was in Christ. It is a sinner trying to help a sinner. How different the face of things if this spirit pre- vailed! — if Dissenters were like Henry, and Watts, and Doddridge ; and Churchmen like Leighton ! The man who comes prominently forward in any way may expect to be found fault with : one will call him harsh, and another a trimmer. A hard man may be reverenced, but men will like him best at a distance : he is an iron man : he is not like Jesus Christ: Christ might have driven Thomas from his presence for his unreasonable incredulity — but not so! It is as though he had said, " I will come down to thy weakness: if thou canst not believe without thrusting thy hand 382 REMAINS. into my side, then thrust in thy hand." Even a feeble, but kind and tender man, will effect more than a genius, who is rough or artificial. There is danger, doubtless, of humouring others ; and against this we must be on our guard. It is a kind and accommodating spirit at which we must aim. When the two goats met on the bridge which was too narrow to allow them either to pass each other or to return, the goat which lay down that the other might walk over him was a finer gentleman than Lord Chesterfield. To expect disease wherever he goes, and to lay himself out in the application of remedies, is that habit of mind, which is best suited to a Christian while he passes through the world, if he would be most effectually useful. The Papists and Puritans erred, in opposite extremes, in their treatment of mankind. The papists, almost to a man, considered the mass of men as mere animals, and to be led by the senses. Even Fenelon fell into this way of think- ing. Some few fine spirits were to be found, which were capable of other treatment ; but the herd they thought capable of nothing but seeing and hearing. The puritans, on the contrary, treated man as though he had nothing of the animal about MISCELLANIES. 383 tgm. There was among them a total excision of all amusement and recreation. Every thing was effort. Every thing was severe. I have heard a man of this school preach on the distinction be- tween Justifying and Saving Faith. He tried to make his hearers enter into these niceties : whereas Faith, in its bold and leading features, should have been presented to them, if any effect was expected. The bulk of mankind are capable of much more than the Papist allows, but are, incapable of that which the Puritan supposes. They should be treated, in opposition to both, as rational and feeling creatures, but upon a bold and palpable ground. I have seen such sin in the Church, that I have been often brought by it to a sickly state of mind. But, when I have turned to the world, I have seen sin working there in such measures and forms, that I have turned back again to the Church with more wisdom of mind and more affection to it — tainted as it is. I see sin, however, no where put on such an odious appearance, as in the Church. It mixes itself with the most holy things, and debases them, and turns them to its own purposes. It builds its nest in the very pinnacles of the tem- ple. The history of the primitive ages of the Church has also checked the disgust which would arise from seeing the impure state of things before 384 REMAINS. our eyes. Folly and wickedness sported them- selves even then, in almost all possible forms. I turn, in such states of mind, to two portraits in my study — John Bradford and Abp. Leighton. These never fail, in such cases, to speak forcibly to my heart, that, in the midst of all there is pure religion, and to tell me what that religion is. The Joy of Religion is an Exorcist to the mind. It expels the demons of carnal mirth and madness. The union of Christians to Christ, their common head; and, by means of the influence which they derive from Him, one to another ; may be illus- trated by the Loadstone. It not only attracts the particles of iron to itself, by the magnetic virtue; but, by this virtue, it unites them one among another. Some considerable defect is always visible, in the greatest men, to a discerning eye. We idolize the best characters, because we see them partially. Let us acknowledge excellence, and ascribe the glory where it is due, while we honour the pos- sessor; but let us remember that God has, by leaving his greatest servants to the natural opera- tion of human frailty in some point or other of their character, written on the face of the Christian MISCELLANIES. 385 Church, Cease ye from man! He does, by Per- fection in Character, as he did by the body of Moses — he hides it, that it may not be idolized. Our affections, our prejudices, or our ignorance cover the creature with a dazzling veil : but he lifts it up; and seems to say, "See the creature you admire !" A man, who thinks himself to have attained Christian Perfection, in the sense in which it has been insisted on by some persons, either deceives himself, by calling- Sin, Infirmity — or Satan leaves him undisturbed in false security— or the Demon of Pride overcomes the Demon of Lust. The trials of the tempted Christian are often sent for the use of others, and are made the riches of all around him. If I were not penetrated with a conviction of the truth of the Bible, and the reality of my own expe- rience, I should be confounded on all sides — from within, and from without — in the world, and in the church. If a good man cannot prevent evil, he will hang- heavy on its wings, and retard its progress. Cc 386 REMAINS. We are too much disposed to look at the outside of things. The face of every affair chiefly affects us. Were God to draw aside the veil and to shew us but a little of the reality, and the relations of the most apparently mysterious and complicated dispensations, we should acquiesce with reverence and admiration. A Minister, for example, may be taken away in the beginning of a promising career, or in the midst of great usefulness. If we cannot perceive any direct reason for this Provi- dence, we stand amazed. But, if we could look forward into the farther life of such men, we should probably see that they were taken away in mercy to themselves — to the church — or to the world. I have seen too much of life, to have anything to do in the troubled waters of my friends, by way of giving advice; unless they will allow me to remain in secret. This especially applies to some Chris- tians of more sincerity than prudence. An opinion given on difficult and controverted cases, in confi- dence of its being used only as a private principle of action, has been quoted as authority in defence of the conduct founded on it. Many duties are involved in the very nature of religion, concerning which there is perhaps not one express precept to be found in the Scriptures. MISCELLANIES. 387 Private, family, or public devotions are no where enjoined; as to the time, or frequency, or manner of performing them. Yet they are so strongly implied in the very nature of religion, and they are supposed so necessarily to flow from the divine principle of spiritual life in the soul, that those men greatly err, who think themselves not obliged by their religion to the most diligent use of them that circumstances will allow. And, surely, we may trace here the footsteps of Divine Wisdom. If it had been said " Thou shalt do this or that, at such and such times," this would have brought a yoke on the neck of the Christian ; and, even when absolutely unavoidable circumstances pre- vented him from complying with the injunction, would have left sin on his conscience. While the way in which the duty is enforced leaves him a Christian liberty, that is abundantly guarded against all licentiousness. He sees the duty im- plied and exemplified in a thousand instances throughout the Scripture. The same principle is applicable to certain pursuits, which occupy the men of the world ; the general unlawfulness of which is fully implied, though they neither are nor could have been forbidden by name*. * See this idea illustrated with regard to Articles of Faith in Jones's " Short view of the argument between the Church of England and Dis- senters," in the " Scholar Armed." vol. ii. p. 59. J. P. Cc 2 388 REMAINS. Nothing seems important to me but so far as it is connected with morals. The end — the cm bono ? — enters into my view of every thing. Even the highest acts of the intellect become criminal trilling, when they occupy much of the time of a moral creature, and especially of a Minister. If the mind cannot feel and treat mathematics and music and every thing else as a trifle, it has been seduced and enslaved. Brainerd, and Grimsbaw, aud Fletcher were men. Most of us are dwarfs. In imitating examples, there are two rules to be regarded : We must not stretch ours beyond our measure : nor must we despise that in another, which is unsuitable to ourselves. A piece has been written to prove that the Gospel is preached to Sinners, only in the lowest state of misery and imbecillity. Some men get hold of an opinion, and push it so far that it meets and contradicts other opinions, fairly deducible from Scripture. And it is no uncommon thing with them to suppose, that nobody else holds the same opinion : when, if they would look into the minds of other men, they would find themselves deceived. We preach the Gospel to sinners in the lowest condition ; and the only reason I do not preach it to Devils, is, that I find no Gospel MISCELLANIES. 389 provided for Devils. As to the Roman Catholic notion of a grace of congruity, in their sense of it I utterly disclaim it. Some of the best of them taught that God prepared the heart for himself in various unseen ways. And who can deny this? but this is far different from the notion, that some minds have a natural congruity or suitableness to the Gospel. The fallow-ground of the heart may be broken up, ploughed, and prepared by unseen and most circuitous means. 1 have gone from hearing a man preach incomparable nonsense who knew spiritual religion, to hearing a man of a car- nal mind and habits who knew nothing of spiritual religion preach incomparable sense, and I thought the carnal preacher much most likely to call men to some feeling of religion. The Imagination is the grand organ, whereby Truth can make successful approaches to the mind. Some preachers deal much with the pas- sions : they attack the hopes and fears of men. But this is a very different thing from the right use of the Imagination, as the medium of impress- ing Truth. Jesus Christ has left perfect patterns of this way of managing men. But it is a distinct talent, and a talent committed to very few. It is an easy thing to move the passions : a rude, blunt, illiterate attack may do this. But, to form one new figure for the conveyance of Truth to the 390 REMAINS. mind, is a difficult thing. The world is under no small obligation to the man who forms such a figure. The French strain this point so far, that the effort is continually seen. To be effective — there must be about it a naiveth — an ease— a self- evidence. The figures of the French writers va- nish from the mind, like the flourish of a musical band. The figures of Jesus Christ sink into the mind, and leave there the indelible impress of the Truth which they convey. The religious world, has a great momentum. Money and power, in almost any quantity, are brought forth into action, when any fair object is sej before it. It is a pendulum, that swings with prodigious force. But it wants a regulator. If there is no regulating force on it, of sufficient power, its motions will be so violent and eccentric, that it will tear the machine to pieces. And, therefore, when I have any influence in its designs and schemes, I cannot help watching them with extreme jealousy, to throw in every directing and regulating power which can be obtained from any quarter. Nothing can be proposed so wild or so absurd, as not to find a party — and often a very large party — ready to espouse it. It is a sad reflection MISCELLANIES. 391 on human nature, but it is too true. Every day's experience and history confirm it. It would have argued gross ignorance of mankind to expect even Swedenborgianism to be rejected at once by the common sense of men. He, who laid the snare, knew that if a few characters of some learn- ing and respectability could be brought to espouse it, there would be soon a silly multitude ready to follow. The religious world has many features, which are distressing to a holy man. He sees in it much proposal and ostentation, covering much surface. But Christianity is deep and substantial. A man is soon enlisted ; but he is not soon made a Soldier. He is easily put into the ranks, to make a show there ; but he is not so easily brought to do the duties of the ranks. We are too much like an army of Asiatics ; they count well, and cut a good figure ; but, when they come into action, one has no flint, another has no cartridge — the arms of one are rusty, and another has not learnt to handle them. This was not the complaint equally at all times. It belongs too peculiarly to the present day. The fault lies in the muster. We are like FalstafT. He took the King's money to press good men and true, but got together such ragamuffins that he was ashamed to muster them. What is the consequence? People groan under 392 REMAINS. their connections. Respectable persons tell me such stories of their servants, who profess religion, as to shame and distress me. High pretensions to spirituality ! Warm zeal for certain sentiments ! Priding themselves in Mr. Such-a-one's ministry ! But what becomes of their duties ? — Oh these are " beggarly elements" indeed ! Such persons are alive to religious talk : but if you speak to them on religious tempers, the subject grows irksome. Admiration and Feeling are very distinct from each other. Some music and oratory enchant and astonish, but they speak not to the heart. I have been overwhelmed by Handel's music : the Dettingen Te Deum is, perhaps, the greatest com- position in the world : yet I never, in my life, heard Handel, but I could think of something else at the same time. There is a kind of music that will not allow this. Dr. Worgan has so touched the organ at St. John's, that I have been turning backward and forward over the Prayer Book for the First Lesson in Isaiah, and wondered that I could not find Isaiah there ! The musician and the orator fall short of the full power of their science, if the hearer is left in possession of himself. MISCELLANIES. 393 The Church of England is not fitted, in its pre- sent state, for a General Church. Its secularity must be purged away. We shall hasten that day when Christians shall be of one heart and one mind, if we inculcate the spirit of charity on our respective circles. I have aimed much at this point, and shall push it farther. The rest must be left to Providence. He only can, by unknown means, heal the schisms of the Church, and unite it together as one external body : and that this will be done, as some think, by persecution, ap- pears highly probable. I see no other mean* adequate to the end. Hypocrisy is folly. It is much easier, safer, and pleasanter to be the thing which a man aims to appear, than to keep up the appearance of being what he is not. When a Christian is truly such, he acts from a nature — a new nature — and all the actings of that nature have the ease and pleasant- ness of nature in them. Humiliation is the spirit of our dispensation — not a creeping, servile, canting humility : but an entire self-renunciation. The Mystics often talk admirably on this subject. Pride is the most uni- versal and inveterate of all vices. Every man is a proud man, though all are not equally proud. No sin harasses the Christian so much, nor accom- 394 REMAINS. panies him so unweariedly. Its forms of exhibiting itself are infinitely varied, and none are more com- mon than the affectation of humility. The as- sumption of the garb of humility, in all its shades, is generally but an expression of a proud mind. Pride is the master-sin of the spirit; and the grace of God, in the whole tenour of our dispen- sation, is directed against it. I extend the circle of real religion very widely. Many men fear God, and love God, and have a sincere desire to serve Him, whose views of reli- gious truth are very imperfect, and in some points perhaps utterly false. But I doubt not that many such persons have a state of heart acceptable before God. Man is a creature of extremes. The middle path is generally the wise path ; but there are few wise enough to find it. Because Papists have made too much of some things, Protestants have made too little of them. The Papists treat man as all sense: and, therefore, some Protestants would treat him as all spirit. Because one party has exalted the Virgin Mary to a divinity, the other can scarcely think of that most highly fa- voured among women with common respect. The Papist puts the Apocrypha into his carion — the MISCELLANIES. 395 Protestant will scarcely regard it as an ancient record. The Popish heresy of human merit in Justification, drove Luther on the other side into most unwarrantable and unscriptural statements of that doctrine. The Papists consider Grace as inseparable from the participation of the Sacra- ments —the Protestants too often lose sight of them as instituted Means of conveying Grace. The language of Irreligion in the heart, is, " Give — give — now — now — whatever the flesh and the eye lust after, and whatever gratifies the pride of life. Give it now — for, as to any Reversion, I will not sacrifice a single lust for it ; or, if I must have a religion, it shall be anything rather than that demeaning system, which makes every thing a mere boon." Instead of attempting any logical and metaphy- sical explanation of justification by the imputed righteousness of Christ, all which attempts have human infirmity stamped upon them, I would look at the subject in the great and impressive light in which Scripture places it before me. It teaches me to regard the intervention of Christ for me, as the sole ground of all expectation to- ward God. In consideration of his sufferings, my guilt is remitted, and I am restored to that which 396 REMAINS. I had lost by sin. Let us add to this, that the sufferings of Christ were in our stead, and we shall see the point of view in which Scripture sets him forth as the deserver and procurer to us of all pardon and grace. The thing is declared — not explained. Let us not therefore darken a subject which is held forth in a prominent light, by our idle endeavours to make it better understood. Regeneration and conversion may be distin- guished from each other, though they cannot be separated. They may be distinguished ; as a man's being disposed to go in a certain road, and his actually going in that road, maybe distinguished: for Regeneration is God's disposing the heart to himself; but Conversion is the actual turning of the heart to God. There is an immeasurable distance between the genuine and the spurious Christian. The Genuine Christian may be weak, wild, eccentric, fanatical, faulty ; but he is right-hearted : you find the root of the matter in him. The Spurious Christian is the most dangerous of men, and one of the most difficult to deal with. You see what he is, but you find it almost impossible to keep clear of him. He will seek your acquaintance, in order to au- thenticate his own character — to indorse his own MISCELLANIES. 397 reputation. But avoid him. His errors and vices will be assigned to the Church, by an indiscri- minating world. There is less danger in associ- ating with worldly people by profession, and more tenderness to be exercised toward them. St. Paul teaches us the distinction, 1 Cor. v. 9 — 11. I feel disposed to treat carnal men and carnal ministers with tenderness, not to shew them that I am a spiritually proud man. Let them see that you have some secret in possession, which keeps you quiet, humble, patient, holy, meek, and af- fectionate, in a turbulent and passionate world. The character of Balaam is not uncommon in the Church. I have been amazed to see religious pro- fessors, whose ungodly character has been known and read of all men, who have nevertheless enter- tained a good opinion of themselves. I have ac- counted for it, by supposing that they build en- tirely on the distinction of their views of truth from those of other men. They " know the points : they see the distinctions : and, moreover, they approve what they know and desire to die the death of the righteous and be where they are — and, certainly, they must be the men of God's council, and the men who stand on His side against the world !" W' ' REMAINS. I have long adopted an expedient, which I have found of singular service. I have a shelf in my study, for tried authors ; and one in my mind, for tried principles and characters. When an author has stood a thorough exami- nation, and will bear to be taken as a guide, I put him on the shelf! When I have more fully made up my mind on a principle, I put it on the shelf! A hundred subtle objections may be brought against this principle : 1 may meet with some of them, per- haps : but my principle is on the shelf! Generally, I may be able to recal the reasons which weighed with me to put it there ; but, if not, I am not to be sent out to sea again. Time was, when I saw through and detected all the subtleties that could be brought against it. I have past evidence of having been fully convinced : and there on the shelf it shall lie ! When I have turned a character over and over on all sides, and seen it through and through in all situations, I put it on the shelf. There may be conduct in the person, which may stumble others ; there may be great inconsistencies : there may be strange and unaccountable turns — but I have put that character on the shelf: difficulties will all be cleared up : every thing will come round again. I should be much chagrined, in- deed, to be obliged to take a character down, which I had once put up : but that has never been MISCELLANIES. 399 the case with me yet; and the best guard against it, is — not to be too hasty in putting them there. Influence, whether derived from money, talents, or connections, is Power : there is no person so insignificant, but he has much of this power : the little Israelite maid, in Naaman's family, is an in- stance: some, indeed, suppose that they have more power than they really have; but we gener- ally think we have less than we in reality have. Whoever neglects or misapplies this power, is an unprofitable servant : unbelief, timidity, and deli- cacy often cramp its exertion ; but it is our duty to call ourselves out to the exertion of this power, as Mordecai called out Esther (ch. iv.) : it is our duty to watch against every thing that might hinder or pervert our influence ; for mere regard to re- putation will often carry many into error : who would not follow Aaron in worshipping the Golden Calf? Even men of feeble public talents may ac- quire much influence by kindness and consistency of character: Ministers are defective in resting their personal influence too much on their public ministry: time will give weight to a man's cha- racter; and it is one advantage to a man to be cast early into his situation, that he may earn a character. 400 REMAINS. The instances of artifice which occur in Scrip- ture are not to be imitated, but avoided: if Abra- ham, or Isaac, or Jacob equivocate in order to obtain their ends, this is no warrant to me to do so: David's falsehood concerning Goliath's sword argued distrust of God. If any part of the truth which I am bound to communicate be concealed, this is sinful artifice : the Jesuits in China, in order to remove the offence of the Cross, declared that it was a falsehood invented by the Jews that Christ was crucified ; but they were expelled from the empire: and this was designed, perhaps, to be held up as a warning to all Missionaries, that no good end is to be carried by artifice. But address is of a different nature. There is no falsehood, deception, or equivocation in Ad- dress. St. Paul, for instance, employed lawful Address, and not Artifice, when he set the Sad- ducees and Pharisees at variance: he employed a lawful argument to interest the Pharisees in his favour: this was great address, but it had nothing of criminal artifice. In Joshua's ambushes for the men of Ai there was nothing sinful: it was a lawful stratagem of war: it would have been un- lawful to tell the men of Ai there was no ambush; but they knew that they came out of their city liable to such ambushes. Christ's conduct at Emmaus, and that of the Angels at Sodom, were meant as trials of the regard of those with whom they were conversing. MISCELLANIES. 401 Precipitation is acting without sufficient grounds of action. Youth is the peculiar season of Pre- cipitation: the young man's motto is " Onward!" There is no such effectual cure of this evil, as ex- perience ; when a man is made to feel the effects of his precipitation, both in body and mind: and God alone can thus bring a man acquainted with himself. There is a self-blindness in precipitation : a precipitate man is, at the time, a blind man : That be far from thee ! said St. Peter : this shall not happen to thee: As the Lord liveth, saith David, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die ! There is great criminality in precipitation. A man under its influence is continually tempted to take God's work out of his hands. It is not a state of dependence. It betrays want of patience with respect to God; and want of faith: I shall one day perish by the hand of Saul. It discovers a want of charity: in a rash moment we may do an injury to our neighbour, which we can never repair. There are few, who do not feel that they are suffering through life the effects of their own pre- cipitation. He, then, that trusteth his own heart, is a fool. In precipitate moments we should learn to say, " I am not now the man to give an opinion, or to take a single step !" Method, as Mrs. More says, is the very hinge of business; and there is no method without t Dd 402 REMAINS. punctuality. Punctuality is important, be- cause it subserves the peace and good-temper of a family : the want of it not only infringes on necessary duty, but sometimes excludes this duty. Punctuality is important as it gains time : it is like packing things in a box : a good packer will get in half as much more as a bad one. The calmness of mind which it produces, is another advantage of punctuality : a disorderly man is always in a hurry : he has no time to speak with you, because he is going elsewhere ; and, when he gets there, he is too late for his business, or he must hurry away to another before he can finish it. It was a wise maxim of the Duke of New- castle — " I do one thing at a time." Punctuality gives weight to character. " Such a man has made an appointment: then I know he will keep it." And this generates punctuality in you : for, like other virtues, it propagates itself: servants and children must be punctual, where their leader is so. Appointments, indeed, become debts : I owe you punctuality, if I have made an appoint- ment with you ; and have no right to throw away your time if I do my own. It is a difficult question in Casuistry — How far A MAN IS BOUND TO BETRAY CONFIDENCE FOR general good. Let it be considered what con- sequences would follow from a man's disclosing MISCELLANIES. 403 all the evil he knows. The world would become a nest of scorpions. He must often mistake, and of course calumniate. Such is his incapacity to determine what is really evil in his neighbour, and such are the mischiefs frequently arising from the disclosure of even what should be in truth evil, that he seems rather called on to be silent, till circumstances render it a case of duty to remain silent no longer. But, if this be his general rule, it will be his duty to observe silence much oftener in cases of confidence. Professional Men — a Minister — a Lawyer — a Medical Man — • have an official secrecy imposed on them. If this were not the case— a distrest conscience could never unburthen itself to its Confessor. Incalcu- lable injuries to health and property must be sus- tained, for want of proper advisers. This applies in a very high sense to a Minister, considered as a Confessor — a director of the conscience. An alarmed conscience will unfold its most interior recesses before him. It is said Dr. Owen advised a man, who, under religious convictions confessed to him a murder which he had perpetrated some years before, to surrender himself up to justice. The man did so, and was executed. I think Dr. Owen erred in his advice. I thought myself right, in urging on persons, who have opened their hearts to me, deep humiliation before God for crimes committed in an unconverted state ; but, as it had pleased Him to give a thorough hatred D (I 2 404 REMAINS. of those crimes to the mind, and a consequent self-loathing and humiliation, and yet to allow in His providence that they should have remained undiscovered, I judged that the matter might be safely left with Him. Yet there may be cases, in which general consequences require that con- fidence should be betrayed. Such cases usually relate to evil in progress. To prevent or coun- teract such evil, it may be necessary to disclose what has been intrusted in confidence. Yet the party should be honestly warned, if its purposes are not changed what duty your conscience will require. I have felt twice in my life very extraordinary impressions under sermons, and that from men least calculated to affect me. A man of great powers, but so dissipated on every thing that he knew nothing — a frivolous, futile babbler, whom I was ready almost to despise — surprized and chained me so, in my own church at Lewes, that I was thunder-struck : I think it was concerning the dove not finding rest for the sole of her foot : he felt the subject strongly himself; and, in spite of all my prejudices against him and my real knowledge of his character, he made me feel it as I have scarcely ever done before or since. In the other instance, I had to do with a very dif- ferent character: he was a simple, but weak man: MISCELLANIES. 405 it pleased God, however, to shoot an arrow by his hand into my heart: I had been some time in a dry, fruitless frame, and was persuading myself that all was going 1 on well : he said one day, at Lewes, with an indescribable simplicity, that " Men might chear themselves in the morning, and they might pass on tolerably well perhaps without God at noon; but the cool of the day was coming, when God would come down to talk with them." It was a message from God to me: I felt as though God had descended into the Church, and was about to call me to my account ! In the former instance, I was more surprized and as- tonished than affected religiously ; but, in this, I was unspeakably moved. Constitutional bias is a suspicious Interpreter of providential leadings. A man's besetting sin lies in that to which his nature is most in- clined; and, therefore, to walk wisely and holily, he should be very jealous of such supposed lead- ings in Providence as draw with his constitutional propensity. He is never safe, unless he is in the act of collaring his nature as a rebel, and forcing it into submission. A sanguine man sees a sign and token in every thing : in every ordinary oc- currence, his imagination hears a call : his pious fancy is the source and food of an eager, dis- quieted, and restless habit of mind. An enter- 406 REMAINS. prising man has great facility in finding God in whatever seems to open to honour, or influence, or power. But he has lost the right estimate of things: if God seem to draw with an enterprising mind, the man should stand and tremble. Pro- vidence may really lead some retired and humble men into situations which the ambitious man would covet; but, even in that case, it is not to be re- garded as an evidence of favour, so much as an increase of trial and responsibility: but He can never open before an enterprising and ambitious character, unless in judgment, or in such immi- nence of trial as should call the man to self-sus- picion and humility. A pleasurable man easily discerns Gods hand in every thing, which seems to put his favourite indulgences within his power: such a thing was a great Providence ! and he is vastly grateful! while he sees not that he is led away to broken cisterns. An idle man has a con- stant tendency to torpidity. He has adopted the Indian maxim — that it is better to walk than to run, and better to stand than to walk, and better to sit than to stand, and better to lie than to sit. He hugs himself in the notion, that God calls him to be quiet ! — that he is not made for bustling and noise ! — that such and such a thing plainly shew him he ought to retire and sit still ! A busy man is never at rest: he sees himself called so often into action, that he digs too much to suffer anything to grow, and waters so pro- MISCELLANIES. 407 fusely that he drowns. The danger in all these cases is, lest a man should bless himself in his SNARES Adam well observes : — " A poor country parson, fighting against the Devil in his parish, has nobler ideas than Alexander had." Men of the world know nothing of true glory : they know nothing of the grandeur of that sentiment- — Thou, O God, art the thing' that I long for ! You may, perhaps, find this sentiment in the corner of some monas- tery, where a poor, ignorant creature is mumbling over his prayers : or, it may even be found to exist with the nonsense and fanaticism of a Sweden- borgian : but, wherever it is, it is true dignity. Look at the bravery of the world ! Go into the Park. Who is the object of admiration there? — The captain, swelling and strutting at the head of his corps! x4nd what is there at the Court? — "Make way! — Make way!" And who is this? A bit of clay, with a ribbon tied round it ! Now it makes nothing against the comparative empti- ness and littleness of these things, that I or any man should be ensnared by them, and play the fool with the rest of the species. Truth is truth, and dignity is dignity, in spite of the errors and folly of any man living. But this is the outside. What are the greatest minds, and the noblest projects of the world, 408 REMAINS. compared with a Christian ! Take Mr. Pitt for an instance : and contrast him with the most insigni- ficant old woman in the Church of Christ ! If the Bible be not true, you have no standard : all your reasonings, and science, and philosophy, and me- taphysics, are gross absurdity and folly. But, if the Bible be true, Mr. Pitt, great and noble as he is, yet, considered as a mere politician, even Mr. Pitt has a little, contracted, mean mind! — a driveller ! — an earth-worm ! Compared with his projects and schemes, the old woman, who rises at Two o'Clock in the morning, lights her farthing- candle, stands all day over her wash-tub, at night puts on her red cloak, steals out to some place of worship, hears the truths of the Gospel mangled perhaps with ignorant yet honest zeal, but draws in good into an honest and prepared heart — why, this woman is a heroine — a noble mind — compared with the greatest of men, considered as a mere man of this world ! Bishop Wilkins had said admirably, That no- thing in man is great, but so far as it is connected with God. The only wise thing recorded of Xerxes, is his reflection on the sight of his army — That not one of that immense multitude would survive a hundred years : it seems to have been a momen- tary gleam of true light and feeling. APPENDIX CONTAINING REMARKS BY MR. CECIL, COMMUNICATED TO THE EDITOR BY SOME FRIENDS. APPENDIX. A HIDING-PLACE implies secrecy. He, who can say unto God, Thou art my hiding-place, may go abroad about his affairs, and may pass through a thousand dangers, and yet, at the sanTB time, have such a hiding-place, in the favour and pro- tection of God, that, when he seems to be exposed on every side, still he is secured and hidden from every evil. A great man, however high his office and talents, is dependent on little things. Jonah was exceed- ing glad of his gourd. However splendid and towering, man is crushed beneath the moth, if God does not uphold him : so that, while we are ad- miring the great man as he is called, and however he may be disposed to admire himself and to speak great swelling words of vanity, facts will shew that he is a poor dependent creature, who cannot live a moment without God. If the Holy Spirit opens his eyes, he will perceive that he 412 ' REMAINS. cannot stand alone; but can only support himself and climb, like the ivy, by clasping one stronger than himself. Dreams are common to sleeping. No man be- gins to slumber in religion, but he falls into some golden dream. It is a device of Satan to seduce men into a drowsy state, and then to beguile them with some dream. When the duties of religion become irksome, then he presents some novelty which allures and deceives us : whereas, had we been in life and vigour, we should have detected the deceit. There are no greater objects of pity in the world, than men who are admired by all around for their nice discernment and fine taste in every thing of a worldly nature, but have no taste for the riches that endure for ever — no love for God or his word — no love for Christ or their souls. In such a state, however admired or respected, they cannot see the kingdom of God. A spiritual man is a character that rises far above all worldly wisdom and science. He is described by our Lord as born of the Spirit. Spiritual senses are given to him. He has a APPENDIX. 413 spiritual taste, that rejects whatever is injurious, and gladly receives whatever is salutary to the spiritual life: he desires the sincere milk of the word, that he may grotv thereby. He has a spiri- tual sight : he looks, not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. He smells a sweet savour in the things of God : His name is as ointment poured forth. He has a quick feeling. And he has a spiritual ear : My sheep hear my voice. He lives in a world of his own ; he is tried by spiritual conflicts, and supported by spiritual comforts. If the things of God do not afford him consolation he droops, and nothing in this world can lift up his head : he will say to every other object, Miserable comforters are ye all! He is pursuing a spiritual end, and, while others boast and are puffed up with their great attain- ments, he is humbled in the dust and gives all glory to God. There are critical circumstances, under which a man who is in general on his guard, is called to redouble his Christian vigilance. If he is about to encounter imminent danger, for instance, he will take care to secure himself by every possible means. A house may be well guarded and se- cured ; but, if there is any fear and expectation of thieves, every place will be doubly barred and watched. Good care may be taken, in the general 414 REMAINS. habits of a family, to guard against fire; but, if it be known that a spark has fallen among any com- bustibles, every possible search is made to dis- cover it and to prevent its ravages. Thus should every servant of Christ redouble his guard in critical circumstances. He should remember, that while awful providences seem to be threaten- ing us, and while we are surrounded with dangers on every side, and while the enemy of our souls is going about as a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour, it ill becomes us to trifle. Let us stir up ourselves, and attend to our Master's ad- monition, Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning, and ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their Lord. If St. Paul had not been an entire character, he would not have spoken so ingenuously of himself as he does in the viith to the Romans. He would have acted as many others have done : he would have put the best aspect on things. He would not have opened the chambers of imagery ; and have showed, while all the Church was admiring him, what Mas passing within. Here were real simplicity and humility— nothing of that Pharisee which he once was. The Pharisee is become a Publican : the reality is coming forward : and he seems to say, " Is any man groaning under a body of sin and death ? — on searching his heart, APPENDIX. 415 does he find that therein dwelleth no good thing ? — This is my case also : and if I have anything wherein to glory, it is in Christ and not in my- self." Charity should teach us to exercise hope and love toward all men — hope toward those who are without, and love toward those who are within, the walls of the City of God. Of those without, we are apt to despair too soon, and to say There, is no hope ; when we should labour to allure them into the Church of God, and to impress them with a sense of its glory and its privileges. Toward those within the walls, we sometimes fail in the exercise of love : we are too much influenced in our feelings toward them, by a difference of edu- cation, taste, or disposition ; while the great question ought to be " Are they really fellow-citi- zens with the saints, and of the household of God f — and if so, whatever their defects may be, we ought to honour and love them as the Temples of the Holy Ghost. When Christians are delivered from trouble, they are apt soon to forget it ; and to lose sight of the holy resolutions formed while under affliction : the strong impressions soon decay. Whereas if we were enabled to glory in tribulation — if our 416 REMAINS. conscience were made tender — if more reality were put into our prayers — we should take heed how we give Way to an evil heart of unbelief : we should remember, too, how our troubles were brought on us, and the benefits which we received while they continued ! we should watch that we might not estimate them falsely ; and, at all times, we should bear it in our mind, that it is not suf- fering which hurts us, but sin. Some men will follow Christ on certain conditions — if he will not lead them through rough roads — if he will not enjoin them any painful tasks — if the sun and wind do not annoy them — if he will remit a part of his plan and order. But the true Chris- tian, who has the Spirit of Jesus, will say, as Ruth said to Naomi, " Whither thou goesl, I will go!" whatever difficulties and dangers may be in the way. It is our happiness, as Christians, that, however we may change our place, we shall never change our object. Whatever we lose, we shall not lose that which we esteem better than life. God has made to us this gracious promise — I will dwell in them, and walk in them. And though we may endure much affliction, and pass through many deep waters, yet this is our honour and comfort APPENDIX. 417 the lord is with us ! and then — what is diffi- culty ? — what is tribulation ? — what is death ? — Death to a Christian is but an entrance into the city of God ! it is but joining a more blessed com- pany, and singing in a more exalted strain, than he can do in this world. The way of every man is declarative of the end of that man. How difficult is it to shew those who are in the House of Mourning, that God is teaching them, that, if they had not leaned so much on their crea- ture-supports, they had not been so broken ! Still they are crying, O Absalom, my son, my son! Why is it that we are shocked to see the world falling: to pieces around us, when we shall leave it our- selves to-morrow — perhaps to-day? We forget that it is the design of God to dash every thing to pieces. It is by these trials that we begin to learn we have been walking by sense rather than by faith — and looking at our children and our posses- sions as though we were never to lose them. It is by faith that we are relieved under the dif- ficulties of sense. Sense revolts, when it views our great High Priest on the Cross— Faith glories t Ee 418 REMAINS. in this object! Sense talks like the Jews: He saved others : himself he cannot save : if he be now the King of Israel, let him come down from the cross, and we will believe him. — Faith lays hold on him as the Saviour of the World, and cries Lord! remember me ivhen thou comest into thy kingdom ! Sense envies the prosperous worldling, and calls him happy — Faith goes into the sanctuary, to see what his end will be. When the waves run high, Sense clamours — Faith says " Speak but the word, and the winds and waves shall obey thee." When we feel our earthly house of this tabernacle taking down, Sense sinks — but Faith says We know, that, if our earthly house of this tabernacle be dis- solved, ive have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Wisdom prepares for the worst : but Folly leaves the worst for that day when it comes. Abraham teaches us the right way of conversing with God: — And Abraham fell on his face, and God talked with him ! When we plead with Him our faces should be in the dust : we shall not then speak lightly of him, nor complain ; nor will there be any more boasting. We shall abase ourselves and exalt God ! The Christian's secret intercourse with God will APPENDIX. 419 make itself manifest to the world. We may not see the husbandman cast the seed into the ground, yet when the corn grows and ripens we know that it was sown. The mere professor, who may be found every where but in his secret chamber, may think that with care he shall pass for a good Christian: but he mistakes, for the spirit will discover itself, of what sort it is. He, who would walk safely and honourably, must walk closely with God in secret. A variety of circumstances render the sinner's first approaches to Christ difficult. They, who find an easy access, will find an easy departure when troubles arise. The most likely method we can take to hasten the removal of what we love, is, to value it too much — to think on it with endless anxiety — to live on its favour with solicitude. It shall soon either become a thorn in our side, or be taken away. Be ye not unequally yoked. If a believer marries an unbeliever, the miseries which ensue are end- less. Were they determined, in kindness, to grant all they could to each other ; yet they live as in Ee 2 420 REMAINS. two separate worlds. There is a great gulph be- tween them, which cannot be passed without the grace of God ; on which, while all should hope and pray for it, none should presume. They can- not taste the same pleasures, nor share the same sorrows, nor pursue the same objects, nor walk in the same path. What hope, then, can there be of comfort? Every Christian finds the corruptions of his own heart, the snares of the world, and the devices of Satan, together with innumerable secret anxieties, quite enough to struggle with in his journey to heaven, without adding another to his difficulties. In studying the word of God, digest it under these two heads : either as removing obstructions, which keep God and thee asunder; or as supplying some uniting power to bring God and thee together. Perhaps it is a greater energy of Divine Power, which keeps the Christian from day to day, from year to year — praying, hoping, running, believing — against all hindrances — which maintains him as a Living martyr: than that which bears him up for an hour in sacrificing himself at the stake. By the course of his Providence, God will assert the liberty of his council. APPENDIX. 421 Let me ask, every day, what reference it has to the Day of Judgment; and cultivate a disposition to be reminded of that day. Indulge not a gloomy contempt of anything which is in itself good ; only let it keep its place. God has called us to meet his best gift to man — his only-begotten Son — not in a splendid court, but in a manger ! — in the wilderness ! — in Geth- semane ! — before the High Priest, when they spat in his face, and buffeted him, and smote him! — at the cross! — and at the sepulchre! Thus it is that he corrects the pride and ambition of the human heart ! There is in sin, not only an infinite mischief done to the man, but it is accompanied by an infatu- ation that surpasses all description. When the heart declines from God, and loses communion with Christ, the man resembles one in a consump- tion, who is on the brink of the grave and yet talks of a speedy recovery ! A death will come on the spirit, which will be perceived and felt by all around: yet, when the most affectionate friends of such a man attempt to expostulate, they often find him nut only insensible but obstinate and 4*22 REMAINS. stout-hearted. He who, like Sampson, the cham- pion of Israel, lays his head in the lap of tempta- tion, will rarely rise again as he lay down : he may say, I will go out, as at other times before, and shake myself: but he wists not that the Lord is de- parted from him! — Strangers have devoured his strength, and he knoweth it not! The whole life of Christ was one continued ex- pression of the same desire : — " Let me lay aside my glory — let me expire on the cross — so that thy kingdom may come!" And the blood of every martyr, who ever suffered in the cause of God, cried " Let thy Kingdom come !" Growth in grace manifests itself by a simplicity — that is, a greater naturalness of character. There will be more usefulness, and less noise: more tenderness of conscience, and less scrupu- losity : there will be more peace, more humility : when the full corn is in the ear, it bends down because it is full. The history of all the great characters of the Bible is summed up in this one sentence : — they acquainted themselves with God, and acquiesced in his will in all things. APPENDIX. 423 God's way of answering the Christian's prayer for an increase of patience, experience, hope, and love — usually is to put him into the furnace of tribulation. St. James therefore says, Count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations. People of the world count it all joy when they are in ease and affluence; but a Christian is taught to count it all joy when he is tried as gold in the fire. In Christ we see the most perfect exhibition of every grace, to which Ave, as his followers, are called. Let there be but in us that poverty of spirit — that disposition to bear with provocations, and to forgive injuries — that obedience to God and acquiescence in his will — that perseverance in doing good — that love which overcometh all diffi- culties —that meekness, humility, patience, com- passion, and gentleness which were found in Christ; and if any man should be so ignorant and debased as to imagine that this is not true dig- nity of character, let it be remembered that this was the mind which was also in Christ Jesus! Looking back is more than we can sustain without going back ! When the multitudes followed our Lord on a particular occasion, although he wished for re- 424 REMAINS. tireraent and had gone purposely to seek it, yet he gave up his design and attended to them. Mark the condescension and tenderness of such conduct, in opposition to a sour, monastic, morose temper. We are too fond of our own will. We want to be doing what we fancy mighty things; but the great point is, to do small things, when called to them, in a right spirit. The world will allow of a vehemence approach- ing to ecstacy, on almost any occasion but that, which, above all others, will justify it. A christian will find his parenthesis for prayer, even through his busiest hours. We treat sensible and present things as realities, and future and eternal things as fables : whereas the reverse should be our habit. An Enthusiast will court trouble, and that for itself: but a Christian, while he does not court it, yet rejoices in it; not for its own sake, but because he knows that tribulation ivorketh patience, and patience experience, and experience hope — a hope that maketh not ashamed. While patience is APPENDIX. 425 the fruit of his conflicts and trials, he gains ex- perience by them : he acquires the knowledge which a traveller obtains in performing a long journey : he is in possession of a bundle of choice maxims and observations, gathered with much pains : he is taught by them to know his own heart : he is brought acquainted with the faithfulness and mercy of God, in holding him up in the deep waters, and accompanying him through the fire of affliction. And this experience produces hope- — a hope that he is savingly united to Christ — a hope that he is in the Church of God — a hope of the glory of God — a hope that maketh not ashamed, keeping us steady at anchor through every storm, and when every other support fails. There are but two states in the world which may be pronounced happy — either that of the man who rejoices in the light of God's countenance, or that of him who mourns after it. Let the warm-hearted Christian be careful of receiving a wrong bias in Religion. When a ball is in motion, almost anything presented to it ob- liquely will turn it wholly out of its course. Be- ware, therefore, of a wrong direction in Chris- tianity. Fix your attention ever on such examples as St. John and St. Paul, and hear how they 426 REMAINS. speak : If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema, Maranatha ! God denies a Christian nothing, but with a design to give him something better. God teaches some of his best lessons in the school of Affliction. It is said that St. Paul's Epistle to the Ephesians has quite the spirit and air of a prison. That school must be truly excellent, which produces such experience and wisdom. We cannot build too confidently on the merits of Christ, as our only hope ; nor can we think too much of the mind that was in Christ, as our great example. A christian does not glory in tribulation, as he does in the cross of Christ. The Cross of Christ is the object in which he glories : but he glories in tribulation as an appointed means and instru- ment in the hand of God, of accomplishing his own pleasure and promoting our real good. Never was there a man of deep piety, who has not been brought into extremities — who has APPENDIX. 427 not been put into the fire — who has not been taught to say, Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him! A christian's steps are not only safe, but steady: — He, that believe th, shall not make haste. When danger approaches, he shall not be thrown into confusion from his alarm, so as to be ready to say "Whither shall I run?" but, finding himself on safe ground, he shall be quiet. Being built on the sure foundation and stablished in Christ, he shall not make haste in his expectations : he shall not make haste with respect to the promises, as though they were long in their accomplishment, knowing that all the promises of God are Yea, and, in Christ, Amen! In affliction, he shall not make haste in running to broken cisterns ; as Asa did, when, in his disease, he sought not to the Lord, but to the physicians : he shall not be alarmed, or driven about, as one who has not a strong-hold to enter; but shall say, None of these things move me ! neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy! With respect to his character, the Christian shall not make haste : if a cloud come over his reputation, and men will suspect his integrity without grounds, he will commit himself to God, and wait his opportunity, and not make rash haste to justify and clear his character. 428 REMAINS. When a man can say " My God !" if he can add no more that is sufficient : for my God is all-wise in appointing, and almighty to uphold and to deliver. My God is a Father to me in Christ : yea he is a Father who hid his face from Christ for my good. If, then, I am in darkness, let me remember that God never had a Son that was not sometimes in the dark ; for even Christ, his only- begotten Son, cried out My God! My God! why hast thou forsaken me ? Few Christians, if any, sufficiently honour Christ, as governing their concerns. They do not say, " Now while I am praying on earth, my Saviour is working for me in heaven. He is saying to one 1 Do this!' — and to another, ' Do that ! — and all for my good?" While Jeremiah was, doubtless, crying to God out of the dungeon, Ebed-melech was interceding for him with the king, and they were preparing the means of his deliverance. See Jei\ xxxviii. Let the restless, comfortless state of a back- slider, distinguish him from an apostate. If you have set out in the ways of God do not stumble at present difficulties. Go forward. Look not behind. APPENDIX. 429 Something must be left as a test of the loyalty of the heart — in Paradise, the Tree : in Israel, a Canaanite : in us, Temptation. Religious joy is a holy, a delicate deposit. It is a pledge of something greater, and must not be thought lightly of: for let it be withdrawn only for a little, and, notwithstanding the experience we may have had of it, we shall find no living creature can restore it to us, and we can only, with David, cry Restore unto me, O Lord, the joy of thy salvation. A christian should beware of that temptation, Why should I wait for the Lord any longer ? He should remember, if it is a time of extremity, that is the very reason why he should wait. If his way is so hedged up that he cannot go forward, he should say " Now is the time for me to stand still, and wait till God opens my way." When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thouknewest my path. Human nature is always putting forth its fears and unbelief, in anxious questions concerning to- morrow, or some threatening calamity : but Christ says to every Christian " Let not your heart be 430 REMAINS. troubled, neither let it be afraid : I go to prepare a place for you ; and I will protect and guide you throughout the journey thither." God with us is the traveller's security. Jacob was destitute : he had a long and dreary journey, but God said Behold I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest. God calls not for thousands of rams, nor ten thou- sands of rivers of oil: he calls not his creatures to live in sackcloth and ashes, nor sets them to per- form long pilgrimages, nor to inflict pains on their bodies. No ! the rigours of superstition are from man. The voice of God is, " Be happy, here and for ever! Fly that which will make you miserable every where ! Come unto me, all that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest J" The voice of Christ is, My Son give me thy heart! and to him who obeys, he will say, " Go in peace ! Go into the Grave! go to Judgment! go into Eternity ! go in peace !" A christian must stand in a posture to receive every message which God shall send. He must be so prepared, as to be like one who is called to set off on a sudden journey, and has nothing to do APPENDIX. 431 but to set out at a moment's notice : or like a merchant who has goods to send abroad, and has them all packed up and in readiness for the first sail. How many people go out of their sphere under good pretences ! A person who objects to tell a friend of his faults, because he has faults of his own, acts as a surgeon would who should refuse to dress another per- son's wound because he had a dangerous one himself. When the most insignificant person tells us we are wrong, we ought to listen. Let us believe it possible we may be wrong, when any one sup- poses we are ; and enter into the true littleness which consists in receiving correction like a child. No man rejects a Minister of God who faithfully performs his office, till he has rejected God. The plainest declarations of God's favour, and the strongest encouragements, are generally mani- 432 REMAINS. fested in the darkest night of trial. Who could be more destitute than Jacob, when he lay down in the desart with a stone for his pillow ? See also Acts xxvii. 20—24. 2 Cor. i. 3, 4, 5. The pride of Israel testifieth to his face : and they do not return to the Lord their God. This is the worst symptom in a sinner — when he is too proud to go to God. Whatever be our condition, if there is contrition of spirit under it there is hope of that man. There is no room for despair, to whatever lengths a man may have gone in sin, if he can smite on his breast, and say " O Lord ! though my sins testify against me, yet thou art a God of compassion. Do thou it, for thy name's sake." A christian should never attempt to try his state while under a temptation : he might as well at- tempt to examine the face of the moon while she is under an eclipse. But, when he finds corrupt nature setting in with a temptation — and who has not felt this ? — let him remember his Great Phy- sician. This is the glory of the Son of God, that no case, either of the body or of the soul, was ever found too hard for Him ! Blessed be God, that we have in Him a hiding-place — a covert from the storm — a refugfe from all our enemies ! APPENDIX. 433 The great care of the man who is content with the form of godliness without the power, is, that every thing should be right without ; while the true Christian is most careful that every thing should be right within. It would be nothing to him to be applauded by the whole world, if he had not the approbation of God and his own con- science. Real religion is, therefore, a living principle. Any one may make a show, and be called a Christian, and unite himself to a sect, and be admired : — but for a man to enter into the sanctuary ; to hold secret communion with God ; to retire into his closet, and transact all his affairs with an unseen Saviour ; to walk with God like Enoch, and yet to smite on his breast with the Publican, having no confidence in the flesh and triumphing only in Christ Jesus — these are the life and acts of a new creature ! O Lord ! let me have anything, but thy Frown; and anything with thy Smile*! Whatever, below God, is the object of 4 our love, will, at some time or other, be the matter of our sorrow. * " Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; And with Thee rich, take what thou wilt away. Cowper, Task. V. J. P. t f f 434 REMAINS. Take care, Christian ! whatever you meet with in your way, that you forget not your father ! When the proud and wealthy rush by in triumph, while you are poor and in sorrow, hear the voice of your Father saying, " My Son ! had I loved them, I should have corrected them too. I give them up to the ways of their own hearts : but to my children, if I give sorrow, it is that I may lead them to a crown of glory that fadeth not away !" It is by Faith that we contemplate unseen tilings. To the eye of a clown, a planet appears but a twinkling star : but if he looked through a teles- cope, and were able to calculate, he would per- ceive that it was a great world, and would be astonished at its distance and magnitude. While the gay and the busy are moving on their little mole-hills, full of anxiety, Faith thus reaches beyond the world : it views Death as at hand : it looks at Heaven, and catches a glimpse of its glory: it looks at Hell, and sees the torments of the condemned : it looks at Judgment, and realizes that awful day : it looks at Eternity, and says Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding- and eternal weight of glory : ivhile we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things tvhich are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things tvhich are not seen are eternal. APPENDIX. 435 Where there is a real character, a man will not sit down in the Christian conflict, and say " If I must carry about with me this body of death, I must submit. I must bear these enemies as quietly as I can." No ! he will say, as St. Paul seems to say, " I will be on no terms with sin ! I will raise an outcry against the corrupt nature ! I will triumph in my Physician ! His grace is suf- ficient for me : I will wait for a cure, and wait for it in the appointed way. I see light, and hope, and liberty ; and I thank God, that if I am a sinner, yet I am a saved sinner !" God hath set the day of prosperity and the day of adversity, the one over against the other — as the clouds are gathered, for rain, by the shining of the sun : and, if for a moment they are blown aside, we must expect their return. Where, in our sky, should we look for clouds ? — where it is brightest: where our expectations are highest. Our sharpest sorrows arise out of our sweetest comforts. Rachel said, Give me children, or else I die: and, in obtaining what she esteemed her highest comfort — what she would have at any rate — was hidden the cause of her sharpest grief. God gave her children ; and, in bearing her second child, it came to pass, as her soul ivas in departing (for she died) that she called his name JBen-oni-— the Son of my Sorrow. Ff2 436 REMAINS. Who is the most miserable man on earth?— and whither shall we go to seek him? — Not to the tavern ! not to the theatre ! not even to a brothel ! — but to the Church ! That man who has sat Sabbath after Sabbath under the awakening and affecting calls of the Gospel, and has hardened his heart against these calls — he is the man whose condition is the most desperate of all others. Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! woe unto thee, Bethsaida I— and thou, Capernaum, which art exalted to heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell. Give every kind of knowledge its due attention and respect : but what science is to be compared to the knowledge of Christ crucified ? Had a tra- veller lost his way in some desert, where he had wandered till he was fainting with hunger and thirst, for what would he first ask ? — for music ? — for paintings? — No ! — he would ask for bread — for water ! Anything else offered him would be a mocking of his misery. What an oppressive burden is taken off a Chris- tian's shoulders, by his privilege of leaving all consequences, while in the path of duty, to God ! He has done with — " How shall / bear this trouble ?" — " How shall /remove this difficulty?" — " How shall /get through this deep water?"- — but leaves himself in the hands of God. APPENDIX. 437 We may form some idea of the joys of heaven, by the innocent pleasures which God grants us on earth. Here is a fine situation, with wonderful prospects; every thing to delight the senses: yet all this we find in a world which is under a curse! what then may we not expect in a heavenly world, where God exercises all his power for our blessedness? However ill men may treat us, we should never give them a handle to say that we misbehaved ourselves. Were I to meet my most bitter ad- versary, and know that he was come with the most malicious intentions, I should endeavour to be so on my guard, that he could not lay his finger, with truth, on any part of my conduct. The motive determines the quality of actions. One man may do a penurious act, because he knows he shall be put to difficulties if he does not : another may do the same from mere avarice. The king of Edom offered up his son on the wall, and his abominable cruelty excited just indigna- tion : but Abraham, having in intention offered up his son, is held forth to all generations for this act as the Father of the Faithful. It is always a sign of poverty of mind, where men are ever aiming to appear great : for they, who are really great, never seem to know it. 438 REMAINS. What the world calls the best company is such, as a pious mechanic would not condescend to keep : he would rather say, Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity ! One way of reading the Bible with advantage is, to pay it great homage : so that, when we come to any part which we cannot connect with other passages, we must conclude that this arises from our ignorance, but that the seeming contrarieties are in themselves quite reconcilable. Young Christians, on setting out in life, often mistake greatly in not sufficiently attributing events to the immediate providence of God. They are not reluctant, at the end, to acknowledge that their way has been directed: but they do not enough mark it as they go on. There is a habit of saying " Such a thing may turn up," as if it de- pended on chance ; whereas nothing will turn up, but what was ordered long before. One cause of this evil is, that the divinity of our day deals too much in common-place : certain fundamental truths are set forth ; and if a man professes these truths, too little account is made of the faith, de- pendence, and other graces of, a Christian. When a man becomes a Christian he is written upon, as it were, " to be provided for !" — and he ought, therefore, to notice, as he goes on, how Provi- dence does provide for him. APPENDIX. 439 Men mistake in nothing so much, as when they resist their dispensation : for, while God shutteth up a man, there can be no opening. Resistance does but make the dispensation harder to be borne. Job says, He teareth himself in his anger: but shall the Rock he removed because of thee? The man is, as it were, in a labyrinth; and the hand, which brought him in, must be the hand to conduct him out. We require the same hand to protect us in ap- parent safety, as in the most imminent and pal- pable danger. One of the most wicked men in my neighbourhood was riding near a precipice, and fell over: his horse was killed, but he es- caped without injury : instead of thanking God for his deliverance, he refused to acknowledge the hand of God therein, but attributed his escape to chance. The same man was afterward riding on a very smooth road : his horse suddenly tripped and fell, and threw his rider over his head, and killed him on the spot, while the horse es- caped unhurt. If a man is dead in sin, our attempting to correct his false notions is like laying a dead man straight, who before was lying crooked. The man is dead, and will remain so ; though, before, he was lying crooked, and is now lying straight. It matters 440 REMAINS. little what right notions we may have, while we are dead in sin; for we shall never act up to them, till God awakens our hearts. To have too much forethought, is the part of a wretch : to have too little, is the part of a fool Self-will is so ardent and active, that it will break a world to pieces, to make a stool to sit on. We are too little acquainted with the sacred character of God. A certain man sold a possession, and brought a certain part of the price. We should have thought this a generous act: but God saw that there wanted a right estimation of his cha- racter. Many sins are suffered to pass, to be punished hereafter : but God sometimes breaks out, and strikes an offender dead in vindication of his own glory. Remember always to mix good sense with good things, or they will become disgusting. Things are not to be done by the effort of the moment, but by the preparation of past moments. If there is any person to whom you feel dislike, that is the person of whom you ought never to speak. APPENDIX. 441 Irritability urges us to take a step as much too soon, as sloth does too late. When we read the Bible we must always re- member, that, like the holy waters seen by Ezekiel*, it is, in some places, up to the ancles; in others, up to the knees; in others, up to the loins ; and, in some, a river too deep to be fathomed, and that cannot be passed over. There is light enough to guide the humble and teachable to heaven, and obscurity enough to confound the unbeliever. True religion, as revealed in the Scriptures, may be compared to a plum on the tree, covered with its bloom. Men gather the plum, and handle it, and turn and twist it about, till it is deprived of all its native bloom and beauty : the fairest hand would as much rob the plum of its bloom, as any other. Now all that little party-spirit, which so much prevails among men, and which leads them to say i" am of Paul and I of Apollos — is but handling the plum till it loses its bloom. There are but two classes of the wise : — the men who serve God, because they have found * Ezek. ch. xlvii. 442 REMAINS. him; and the men who seek him, because they have found him not. All others may say, Is there not a lie in my right-hcmd ? Philosophy is a proud, sullen detecter of the poverty and misery of man. It may turn him from the world with a proud, sturdy contempt: but it cannot come forward, and say " Here are rest — grace — peace — strength — consolation!" We hear much of a decent pride — a becoming pride — a noble pride — a laudable pride ! Can that be decent, of which we ought to be ashamed? — Can that be becoming, of which God has set forth the deformity? — Can that be noble, which God resists, and is determined to debase ? — Can that be laudable, which God calls abominable? Many thin*gs are spoken of, in the Scriptures, as good: but there is not one thing emphatically called good, which does not relate to Christ or his coming. Say the strongest things you can, with candour and kindness, to a man's face; and make the best excuse you can for him, with truth and justice, behind his back. APPENDIX. 443 Many people labour to make the narrow way wider. They may dig a path into the broad way; but the way to life must remain a narrow way to the end. All extremes are error. The reverse of error is not truth, but error. Truth lies between these extremes. I have no doubt, but that there are persons of every description, under every possible circum- stance, in every lawful calling among Christians, who will go to heaven — that all the world may see, that neither their circumstances nor calling prevented their being among the number of the blessed. God has given us four books : — the Book of Grace; the Book of Nature; the Book of the World; and the Book of Providence. Every occurrence is a leaf in one of these books : it does not become us to be negligent in the use of any of them. Eloquence is vehement simplicity. God is omniscient as well as omnipotent: and Omniscience may see reason to withhold what Omnipotence could bestow. 444 REMAINS. Attend to the presence of God: this will dignify a small congregation, and annihilate a large one. Having some business to transact with a gentle- man in the city, I called one day at his Counting House : he begged I would call again, as I had so much more time to spare than he had, who was a man of business. " An hour is nothing to you," said he — " An hour nothing to a Clergyman!" said I : " you seem little to understand the nature of our profession. One hour of a Clergyman's time rightly employed, Sir, is worth more to him than all the gains of your merchandize." If a man has a quarrelsome temper, let him alone. The World will soon find him employment. He will soon meet with some one stronger than him- self, who will repay him better than you can. A man may fight duels all his life, if he is disposed to quarrel. One day I got off my horse to kill a rat, which I found on the road only half killed. I am shocked at the thoughtless cruelty of many people: yet I did a thing soon after, that has given me considerable uneasiness, and for which I reproach myself bitterly. As I was riding homeward, I saw a waggon standing at a door, with three horses : the two foremost were eating their corn APPENDIX. 445 from bags at their noses ; but I observed the third had dropt his on the ground, and could not stoop to get any food. However I rode on, in absence, without assisting him. But when 1 had got nearly home, I remembered what I had observed in my absence of mind, and felt extremely hurt at my neglect ; and would have ridden back had I not thought the waggoner might have come out of the house and relieved the horse. A man could not have had a better demand forgetting off his horse, than for such an act of humanity. It is by absence of mind, that we omit many duties. A wicked man is a candidate for nothing but Hell ! — However he may live, if his conscience were awake he would turn pale at this question, What shall 1 do in the end thereof? There is a great defect in Gray's Elegy. You cannot read it without feeling a melancholy: there is no sunshine — no hope after death : it shews the dark side only of mortality. But a man refined as he was, and speculating on the bankruptcy of human nature, if he brought not evangelical views into the estimate, could describe human nature only as hopeless and forlorn : whereas what he felt a subject of melancholy, is with me in- cluded in the calculation. I know it must be so, 44G REMAINS. and, according to my views, should be disap- pointed if it were not so. — My kingdom, said our Lord, is not of this world. Revelation never staggers me. There may be a tertium quid, though we are not yet in pos- session of it, which would put an end to all our present doubts and questions. I was one day riding with a friend: we were discussing a subject, and I expressed myself surprised that such a measure was not adopted. " If I were to tell you one thing," said he, " it would make all clear." I gave him credit that there did exist something, which would entirely dispel my objections. Now if this be the case, in many instances, between man and man, is it an unreasonable conclusion, that all the unaccountable points, which we may observe in the providence and government of God, should be all perfection in the Divine mind ? Take the growth of a seed — I cannot possibly say what first produces the progress of growth in the grain. Take voluntary motion — I cannot possibly say where action begins and thought ends. The pro- portion between a fly's mind and a man's is no adequate illustration of the state of man with respect to God ; because there is some proportion between the minds or faculties of two finite crea- tures, but there can be none between finite man and the Infinite God. APPENDIX. 447 One little Preacher will endeavour to prove, with a great deal of warmth, the truth of Calvinistic principles:— and another little Preacher will clearly demonstrate the truth of the Arminian scheme. Good sense will go between them, and say, " There are certain things written on these subjects — " Thus saith the Lord:" good sense will hesitate to push what is said to all its apparent conclusions, for — It is ivritten again. Here ends all dogmatism with a wise man. A mouse that had lived all his life in a chest, says the fable, chanced one day to creep up to the edge, and, peeping out, exclaimed with wonder — I did not think the world was so large." The first step to knowledge, is, to know that we are ignorant. It is a great point to know our place : for want; of this, a man in private life, instead of attending to the affairs in his " chest," is ever peeping out, and then he becomes a phi- losopher! he must then know every thing, and presumptuously pry into the deep and secret councils of God — not considering that man is finite, and has no faculties to comprehend and judge of the great scheme of things. We can form no other idea of the dispensations of God, nor can have any knowledge of spiritual things, except what God has taught us in his word ; and, where he stops, we must stop. He has not told 448 REMAINS. us why he permitted the Angels to fall — why he created Adam— why he suffered sin to enter into the World — why Christ came in the latter ages — when he will come to judgment — what will be the doom of the Heathen nations — nor why our state throughout eternity was made to depend on such a moment as man's life : all these are secrets of his council. Where ivast thou, when I laid thefoun- dations of the earth? God urges it on us again and again, that Sin has entered — and that we must Jlee from the wrath to come. Christ, in the days of his flesh, never gratified curiosity: he answered every enquiry according to the spirit of the en- quirer, not according to the letter of the enquiry: if any man came in humility for instruction, he always instructed; but, when any came to gratify a vain curiosity, he answered, as when one said Lord, are there few that be saved? — strive to ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE.' — Or, as when another enquired, Lord, and what shall this man do? — What is that to thee? follow thou me. We are too ready to say, in trouble, All these things are against me ! but a Christian should say, " This or that may seem against me ! but there is mercy for me : there is a Saviour : there is God's word: and there are his ordinances. He should be more careful to enumerate what is for him, than what is against him. He should look over APPENDIX. 449 the list of his spiritual and temporal mercies, as well as that of his sorrows ; and remember, that what things are against him are so on account of his sin. Our pilgrimage is but short: — let us make use of our helps and means. God has given us a guide, and a support to lean on : when the clouds gather, we have only to look to Jesus. We are not to expect the joys of Heaven while on Earth : — let us be content that there is a highway for us to walk in, and a leader to conduct us in that way. It is a Christian's business, as much as possible, consistently with his duty, to lessen his cares and occupations in the world. It is very common to hear Christians complain what a hinderance busi- ness is, while they are, perhaps at the very time, too anxious to encrease it ! There is some fallacy, too, in the complaint: for, where there is a prin- ciple of grace, it will prevail even in a multitude of engagements. There is much difference be- tween seeking busy situations, and being found in them. What we call " taking steps in life," are most serious occurrences ; — especially if there be, in the motive, any mixture of ambition. Wherefore gaddest thou about to change thy way ? G 450 REMAINS. The dispensation of grace to some, is little more than a continual combat with corruptions : so that, instead of advancing, a man seems to be but just able to preserve himself from sinking. A boat, with the tide full against it, does well if it can keep from driving back, and must have strong force indeed to get forward. We must esti- mate grace by the opposition which it meets with. How blessed is the Christian, in the midst of his greatest troubles ! It is true we cannot say he is perfect in holiness — that he has never any doubts — that his peace of mind is never interrupted — that he never mistakes Providence : but, after all, his is a blessed condition ; for he is supported under his trials, and instructed by the discipline ; and, as to his fears, the evil under the apprehen- sion of which he is ready to sink, frequently does not come — or it does not continue — or it is turned into a blessing. One of the greatest impositions of Satan on the mind, is that of quieting a man in the pursuit or possession of what is lawful. So that it is not murder, or adultery, or theft which he is com- mitting, all is well ! Because a man's bed is his own, he may idle away in it his inestimable time! Because his business is lawful, a man may intoxi- cate his mind with the pursuit of it ! APPENDIX. 451 The very heart and root of sin, is an independent spirit. We erect the Idol self; and not only wish others to worship, but worship it ourselves. We must take care when we draw parallel cases, not to take such as are not or cannot be made parallel. For instance — we may ask, before we act, " What would Jesus Christ do in this case? or what would St. Paul ?" but we cannot be guided by this rule in every thing, because Christ's mis- sion was peculiar : it was an unparalleled event : it was for three years only : and, like a great fire, he was always burning — always intent on one point. St. Paul also was in peculiar circumstances: he was sent on an especial errand. In every thing which is in any degree sinful, we should turn to these examples ; but, in the conduct peculiar to our station, our application of these examples, must be governed by circumstances. Many inexperienced Christians are apt to look for wrong kind of evidences, and so distress themselves about their state. The questions which we should put to ourselves, in seeking the best evidences, are — " Do 1 hate sin ? — Is it my grand fear ? — Is it my grief, that, while I have a good hope of pardon, I yet should make such ill returns ? Have 1 brokenness of spirit?" — Godliness is G g2 452 REMAINS. analogous to the principle of gravitation, in that it reduces every thing to its proper centre. The difference between what is called fate, and predestination, is something like that of a house without a governor, and a house with a governor. The Fatalist says, " Every thing must, of necessity, be as it is — as a stone must fall to the ground, fire must ascend, &c." The Predes- tinarian says, that every thing is determined by a wise Governor, who inspects, orders, and super- intends the whole machine; so that a sparrow does not fall to the ground, or a hair of the head perish without permission. We are so accustomed to see sin within and with- out us, that we seldom deeply feel it ; or are so shocked at it, as we should be were it less frequent. If an inhabitant of the Court were to walk through some of the filthy streets and alleys of the Metro- polis, how would he be disgusted and terrified ! while the poor wretches, who live in them, think nothing of the matter. Thus a clearer view of sin and of the holiness of God, made the Prophet cry out, Woe is me! for 1 am undone ; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. APPENDIX. 453 It is much easier to settle a point, than to act on it. I once said to myself, in the foolishness of my heart, " What sort of Sermon must that have been which was preached by St. Peter, when three thousand souls were converted at once?" — what sort of Sermon!— such as other sermons. There is nothing to be found in it extraordinary. The effect was not produced by St. Peters elo- quence; but by the mighty power of God, present with his word. It is in vain to attend one Minis- ter after another, and to hear Sermon after Sermon, unless we pray that the Holy Spirit accompany his word. Neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth; hut God that giveth the increase. That humility, which courts notice is not first- rate. It may be sincere, but it is sullied. Do not sound a trumpet, nor say " Come and see how humble I am!" We should be careful never to discourage any one who is but searching after God. If a man begins in earnest to feel after him if haply he may find him, let us be aware how we stop him, by rashly telling him he is not seeking in the right way. This would be like setting fire to the first round of the 454 REMAINS. ladder, by which one was attempting to escape. We must wait for a fit season to communicate light. Had any one told me when I first began to think religiously, that I was not seeking God in the right way, I might have been discouraged from seeking him at all. I was much indebted to my mother, for her truly wise and judicious conduct toward me when I first turned from my vanity and sin. We should always record our thoughts in afflic- tion — set up way-marks — set up our Bethels — erect our Ebenezers ; that we may recur to them in health : for then we are in other circumstances, and can never recover our sick-bed views. A contemplative life has more the appearance of a life of piety than any other: but it is the divine plan to bring faith into activity and exer- cise. We choose that sort of walk, which we like best : if we love quiet, we are for sedentary piety; but the design of God is to root us out of every thing, and bring us into more useful stations. A wretched prisoner, chained to the floor for a length of time, would deem it a high privilege to be allowed to walk across the room. Another, APPENDIX. 455 confined to lie on his back till it had become sore, would think it a great favour if he might be per- mitted to turn on his side for a few minutes. In a course of habitual pain, I am thankful for five minutes freedom from suffering : how forgetful have I been of fifty years of tolerable ease ! How unmindful are we of what we call common mercies! In order to read the Bible with profit, we must begin by denying ourselves every step of the way; for, every step of the way, it will be found to oppose our corrupt nature. Christians resemble travellers in a stage-coach. We are full of our plans and schemes, but the coach is moving rapidly forward: it passes one mile-stone, and then another ; and no regard is paid to the plots and plans of the passengers. A christian has advanced but a little way in religion when he has overcome the love of the world ; for he has still more powerful and im- portunate enemies : self — evil tempers — pride — undue affections — a stubborn will — it is by the subduing of these adversaries, that we must chiefly judge of our growth in grace. 456 REMAINS. A friend called on me when I was ill, to settle some business. My head was too much confused by my indisposition to understand fully what he said ; but I had such unlimited confidence in him, that I did whatever he bid me, in the fullest as- surance that it was right. How simply I can trust in man, and how little in God ! How unreason- able is a pure act of faith in one like ourselves, if we cannot repose the same faith in God ! SOME NEGATIVE RULES GIVEN TO A YOUNG MINISTER GOING INTO A SITUATION OF PECULIAR DIFFICULTY. _i\ S I know you have received much good advice, I would suggest to you a few hints of a negative kind ; with a view of admonishing you to be care- ful, while you are doing your work, not by any mistakes of your own to hinder your success — I. BY FORGETTING THAT YOUR SUCCESS WITH OTHERS IS VERY MUCH CONNECTED WITH YOUR PERSONAL CHARACTER. Herod heard John gladly, and he did many things ; because he knew the preacher to be a just and holy man. Words uttered from the heart find their way to the heart, by a holy sympathy. Character is power : — " A good man seen, though silent, counsel gives." If you would make deep impressions on others, you must use all means to have them first formed on your own mind. Avoid, at the same time, all appearances of evil — as a covetous or worldly, a 458 REMAINS. vain or assuming, a careless or indevout deport- ment. Never suffer jesting with sacred persons or things. Satan will employ such antidotes as these, to counteract the operation of that which is effec- tive and gracious in a Minister's character. II. BY PLACING YOUR DEPENDENCE ON ANY MEANS, QUALITIES, OR CIRCUMSTANCES, HOW- EVER EXCELLENT IN THEMSELVES. The direct way to render a thing weak, is, to lean on it as strong. God is a jealous God ; and will utterly abolish idols as means of success. He designs to demonstrate that men and creatures are what he makes them, and that only. This also should be your encouragement : — looking, in the diligent and humble use of means, to that Spirit of Life and Power without whose influence all your endeavours will be to no purpose, you have reason to expect help suited and adequate to all your difficulties. III. BY UNNECESSARILY APPEARING IN DAN- GEROUS OR IMPROPER SITUATIONS. It is one thing to be humble and condescending: it is another to render yourself common, cheap, and contemptible. The men of the world know when a Minister is out of his place — when they can op- press him by numbers or circumstances— when they can make him laugh, while his office frowns. Well will it be for him, if he is only rendered APPENDIX. 459 vbsurd in his future public admonitions, by his former compliances ; well if, being found like St. Peter on dangerous ground, he is not seduced, virtually at least, to deny his Master. IV. BY SUSPICIOUS APPEARANCES IN HIS FAMILY. As the head of your household you are respon- sible for its appearances. Its pride, sloth, and disorder will be yours. You are accountable for your wife's conduct, dress, and manners ; as well as those of your children, whose education must be peculiarly exemplary. Your family is to be a picture of what you wish other families to be : and, without the most determined resolution, in reli- ance on God, to finish this picture cost what it will, your recommending Family Religion to others will but create a smile. Your unfriendly hearers will recollect enough of Scripture to tell you that you ought, like the Primitive Bishop, to be one, that ruleth ivell his own house, having his children in subjection with all gravity : for if a man hnoiv not how to rule his oivn house, how shall he take care of the Church of God? V. BY MEDDLING, BEYOND YOUR SPHERE, IN TEMPORALS. Your aim and conversation, like your sacred call, are to be altogether heavenly. As man of God, you have no concern with politics and 460 REMAINS. parties and schemes of interest, but you are to live above them. There is a sublime spirit in a de- voted Minister, which, as one says of Christianity itself, pays no more regard to these things than to the battles of rooks, the industry of ants, or the policy of bees. VI. BY VENTURING OFF GENERAL AND AC- KNOWLEDGED GROUND IN SPIRITUALS. By giving strong meat, instead of milk, to those who are yet but babes — by giving heed to fables, which minister questions rather than godly edify- ing; amusing the mind, but not affecting the heart ; often disturbing and bewildering, seldom convincing; frequently raising a smile, never drawing a tear. VII. BY MAINTAINING ACKNOWLEDGED TRUTH IN YOUR OWN SPIRIT. Both food and medicines are injurious, if ad- ministered scalding hot. The spirit of a teacher often effects more than his matter. Benevolence is a universal language : and it will apologize for a multitude of defects, in the man who speaks it ; while neither talents nor truth will apologize for pride, illiberality, or bitterness. Avoid, therefore, irritating occasions and persons, particularly dis- putes and disputants, by which a Minister often loses his temper and his character. APPENDIX. 461 VIII. BY BEING TOO SHARP-SIGHTED, TOO QUICK- EARED, OR TOO READY-TONGUED. Some evils are irremediable : they are best neither seen nor heard : by seeing and hearing things which you cannot remove, you will create implacable adversaries ; who, being guilty aggres- sors, never forgive. Avoid speaking meanly or harshly of any one : not only because this is for- bidden to Christians, but because it is to declare war as by a thousand heralds. IX. BY THE TEMPTATIONS ARISING FROM THE FEMALE SEX. I need not mention what havoc Satan has made in the Church, by this means, from the Fall to this day. Your safety, when in danger from this quar- ter, lies in flight — to parley, is to fall. Take the first hint from conscience, or from friends. In fine, Watch thou in all things : endure afflic- tions: do the ivork of an evangelist: make full proof of thy ministry : and then, whether those around you acknowledge your real character or not now, they shall one day knoiv that there hath been a prophet among them ! FRAGMENT. A DYING MINISTER'S FAREWELL! W HEN a Christian Minister feels the springs of life giving away : — his faculties decaying — his voice failing — his spirits sinking — though he may not have it in his power to say, as the Apostle did to his friends, / know that ye all, among ivhom I have preached the kingdom of God, shall see my face no more — Yet he should stand ready to part from his flock, and every Sermon should be felt by him as if it were his last. Wherefore I take you to record this day, that I am pure from the blood of all men: for I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of god. And what have I declared that counsel of God to be ? — All the curious distinctions of the schools ? — All the peculiarities insisted on so strongly by different sects ?— No such thing ! I have followed the great Apostle in testifying re- pentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. There has been a slander brought against reli- gion — that we are not agreed, as to the truths APPENDIX. 463 we should set before men. I say, It is false ! We are agreed. All, who know anything of real religion, are agreed, that the substance of the matter is contained in repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. If a man, like the Prodigal, feels that he has left his father's house — turned his back on God —and is become a fool and a madman for so doing — and that there is no hope but in his returning again : if such a change of mind is wrought in him by the Holy Spirit, as he wrought in David, when he cried Wash me throughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin: if, like Peter, he goes forth weep- ing bitterly — feeling that he has acted foolishly and wickedly, and that his only hope is in the mercy of God through the Saviour — then the man enters so far into the spirit of religion — repent- ance TOWARD GOD. But does he rest in this? Nay, he knows that if he could offer thousands of rams, and ten thousand rivers of oil, he could make no satisfaction for the sin of his sold. He looks to the atonement ! — to Him, whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood. Repentance toward God must be accompanied by faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: which were bom not of 464 REMAINS. blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. These men are enabled to say, with St. Paul, " I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord. I have no refuge but in him — no other hope — no other plea. All my confidence before God is grounded on this — that He suffered, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God." If a Minister testifies these things — if he speaks plainly and simply these grand essential truths of God's word — though he die before another Sab- bath return, he may rest in peace — leaving the issue in God's hand. The ground of a Minister's own solid satisfaction cannot be popularity : for, even to Simon Magus all gave heed, from the least to the greatest, saying, This man is the great poiver of 6W/-^neither can he ground his satisfaction on the exercise of strong and enlarged talents : for even Balaam was a man of extraordinary endowments — nor can it be on his success : For many, saith our Lord, shall come to me, and say, Have ive not done many wonderful works in thy name, and in thy name cast out devils? Then will I profess unto them, I never knew you I As though he had said, " I deny not the works, but ye are evil men !" But a Minister's satisfaction must be grounded on the faithful discharge of his office in the deli- very of his message. A Prince sends a special Messenger to his rebellious subjects, with offers of APPENDIX. 465 pardon : iu examining his conduct, he will not en- quire whether they received and approved him or not : the question will be — " Did you deliver my message ? Did you deliver it as one that believed it yourself? — as one in earnest ?" If a man should come and tell you, with a cheerful counte- nance and careless air, that your house was on fire, and that you and your children would be burnt in the flames if you did not make haste to escape, you would not believe him. You would say, " He does not believe it himself, or he would not be so unfeeling as to speak of it in such a manner." If a Minister delivers his message, then no scorn, no reproach that may be cast upon him, can take away his rest — he has done his duty. When the King sent out his servants to invite men to His feast, they excused themselves on various pretences : — but the servant might say, " No matter ! — I have declared the message — I may rest in having done my part, though no success seems to attend my pressing invitations." I would lodge, therefore, my appeal in your consciences — I take you to record — I appeal to conscience : for there is a conscience in man ; and, in serious moments, it will speak out. It wrung from Joseph's brethren that confession, JVe are verily guilty concerning our brother < It forced Balaam himself to cry out Let me die the death of the righteous t and let my last end be like his! It tormented the traitor Judas into that self- t Hh 466 REMAINS. accusation, I have sinned, in that I have betrayed the innocent blood ! When a young person has been talked to by his parents — when they have represented to hiin the misery and ruin of a wicked course, and of bad habits — he might affect to brave it out at the time; but he has gone afterward weeping through the streets — because conscience would speak! But, when the Spirit of God softens a man's heart — when he is made to feel, what an evil and bitter thing it is to sin against God — then a faithful Minister's appeal to that man is like that of St. Paul to the Thessalonians : Ye are ivitnesses, and God also, hoiv holily, and justly, and imblameably we behaved ourselves among you that believe. As you knoiv how we exhorted, and comforted, and charged every one of you (as a father doth his child- ren) that ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory. For this cause also thank we God ivithout ceasing, because, ivhen ye received the word of God which ye" heard of us, ye received it not as the ivord of men, but, (as it is in truth) the word of God, which effectu ally ivorketh also in you that believe: 1 Thess. ii. 10—13. It is most affecting to see to what miserable shifts men will have recourse, in order to evade the truth. " It is irrational," says one, " to insist so much on certain peculiarities of doctrine !" — APPENDIX. 467 But whose reason shall be the judge? — For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolish- ness: but, It is written, I ivill destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the under- standing of the prudent. " It is unnecessary," says another — But has God commanded — and do we pronounce his com- mands unnecessary ? " It is disreputable" — Did Christ regard re- putation? — Nay, he made himself of no reputation. "It is a narrow way" — Ah! there, indeed, you pronounce truly ! The way to heaven is a narrow way! But what says the Judge? — Wide is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat } because strait is the gate, and narrow is the ivay which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it. Oh how distressing is it, to observe many, to whom we cannot but fear, the Gospel which they hear preached from Sunday to Sunday, is but the savour of death ! If God has made a difference in any of us, let us not forget to whom we are indebted. Brethren! you are my witnesses. I take you to record, that you have had the whole counsel of God declared unto you — that all curious and metaphysical enquiries, all critical and conjec- tural points, have been carefully avoided for your sake. I have attempted to clear my ministry of all disputable subjects, in order to set before you Hh2 468 REMAINS. the plain fact of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and of Salvation through him. But, consider! you also must give an account! I must give an account, whether I plainly and simply declared the truth, as one who felt its importance, and was in earnest. You must give an account, whether you have gone away from this place, as if you had heard nothing to the purpose, and immediately dissipated your thoughts with some trifling subject — some mere secular concern: — or — whether what you heard brought you to your knees before God, beseeching him to seal and impress his truth upon your hearts. Oh consider the satisfaction you will find, in really embracing all the counsel of God. Con- sider how soon the time will come, in which it must be your only satisfaction, that you have embraced it! Let it be your prayer, as you go hence — " O God! give me grace to repent, with that repentance which is unto life ! Make me se- rious! Teach me what 1 must do to be saved! Help me to believe the record which thou hast given of thy Son. Give me faith to receive the atonement — to set to my seal, that there is none other name under heaven given among men whereby we must be saved, but the name of Jesus Christ." Come to your Saviour, with humility as a sinner: come with gratitude and love. For ye are not come unto the mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire ', nor unto black- APPENDIX. 469 ness, and darkness, and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet, and the voice of ivords: when, so terrible was the sight, that Moses said, I exceedingly fear and quake. But ye are come unto Mount Sion; and unto the city of the Living God — the heavenly Jerusalem; and to an innumerable company of angels ; and to the general assembly and church of the first-born, ivhich are written in heaven; and to God, the Judge of all; and to the spirits of just men made perfect ; and to Jesus the Mediator of the New Covenant; and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel. See, then, that ye refuse not him that speaketh ! — but — receiving a kingdom ivhich cannot be moved, let us hold fast grace, whereby we may serve God acceptably, ivith reverence and godly fear*. * Heb. xii. 18—28. FINIS. J. Seeley, Printer, Buckingham. I