LIBRARY 
 
 f luological ^emiuartt, 
 
 PRINCETON, N. J. 
 
 
 BX 5207 .H38 L5 1849 
 
 i 
 
 Life and times of the Rev. 
 Philip Henry, M. A., fathej 
 
 1 
 
 
 \ 
 
 'I'he John >I. Krebs Donation. | 
 
 
J 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/lifetimesofrevphOOhenr 
 
* 
 
LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REV. PHILIP HENRY M. A. 
 
i-tiiii) Hcury ai.a hie laiiicr iru-Jog on Utarles 1. K Wluua^an, »Ui.L 
 gwDg to his TriaL— Paige 51. 
 
 THOMAS NEI^ON. LONDON AND EDrXBUKGH. 
 
 MDCCCXLVm. 
 
l/ 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 07THB 
 
 REV. PHILIP HENRY, M.A., 
 
 
 Peace to the jiist maui's memory, — let it grow 
 Oreener with years, and blossom through the flight 
 Of ages ; let the mimic canvass show 
 PTiH calm benevolent features ; let the Qght 
 Stream on his deeds of love, that shunntd the sight 
 Of all but Heaven ; and, in the book of fame. 
 The glorious record of his virtues write. 
 And hold it up to men, and bid them claim 
 A palm like his, and catch from him the ha^owed £anie. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
 No. 285 BROADWAY. 
 
 JFati)n; of ff)t 
 
 ©ommnttator. 
 
 Bbtaxx. 
 
 1849. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 The Life of Philip Henry, from the pen of his pious and 
 gifted son, has long been regarded as one of the most 
 valuable biographic treasures in the English language 
 Sir J. B. Williams, in the preface to his latest edition of 
 this life, quotes the opinions of writers distinguished for 
 piety and worth, both among Chm-chmen and Dissenters, 
 who have successively referred to it for upwards of a cen- 
 tury, as exhibiting one of the most dehghtful examples of 
 eminent piety, prudence, humility, zeal, and moderation, 
 which the history of the Christian Church has to produce. 
 In accordance with these united testimonies to the value 
 of this biography. Sir J. B. Williams remarks, that, " to 
 have made alterations, or to have done otherwise than 
 reprint, would have been to destroy the charm which will 
 ever attend the volume, as a memorial of strict fidelity and 
 filial affection ; as distinguished also by an enviable sim- 
 pKcity, and a naivete of expression, in perfect unison with 
 the subject." 
 
 Without in any degree questioning the justness of these 
 
▼i ■ PREFACE. 
 
 remarks, or the value of the edition of Matthew Henry's 
 life of his father, so ably and faithfully edited by Sir J. 
 B. WilKams, a very different system has been adopted in 
 the following biography. The Life of Phihp Henry, by his 
 son, has been adopted as the basis of the work, and im- 
 plicitly followed as the best authority on every point of 
 his domestic history. A book, however, which was wiit- 
 ten in the seventeenth century, for the perusal of those 
 who were familiar with all the public events of the period 
 to which it referred, necessarily requires revision, expan- 
 sion, and illustration, to render it equally intelligible to 
 readers of the nineteenth centmy. In the following vol- 
 ume, accordingly, the leading occurrences of the event- 
 ful period of EngHsh histoiy in which Philip Henry's life 
 was passed, have been referred to, in chronological order, 
 so as to explain their influence on the circumstances in 
 which he stood, and to throw a new light on the events 
 to which his biographer refers. In order to incorporate 
 the extracts from the original work with the general 
 scheme of such an historical biography, some liberty has 
 necessarily been taken with the text. Words which have 
 ceased to be used in their old sense, or have become alto- 
 gether obsolete, have been changed or expunged without 
 hesitation. Erasures have been freely resorted to where 
 the original work admitted of abridgment, without los- 
 ing any valuable trait of character or manners ; and in 
 many cases facts and illustrations from other writers 
 
PREFACE. "VU 
 
 have been substituted for the difiuse reflections suggested 
 by the veneration and piety of filial affection. Neverthe- 
 less, sufficient of the quaintness and beautiftd simplicity 
 of the original has. it is believed, been preserved, to ex- 
 hibit in consistent harmony and truthfulness, the picture 
 of Christian charity and love displayed in the life of him, 
 of whom Dr. Christopher Wordsworth has remarked, in 
 his Ecclesiastical Biography, " If he could any where 
 have found Noncombrmity united with more Christian 
 graces than in Philip Henry," he would have given it the 
 preference. Above all, the utmost care has been taken, 
 while seeking to throw new light on the subject of this 
 memoir, that no false or doubtful view should be substi- 
 tuted for that which has been handed down to us by filial 
 veneration and Christian piety. The object aimed at has 
 been, not to produce a better iiie than that which Matthew- 
 Henry wrote of his father, but only such an one. as. if he 
 were writing for times so distant and so changed from 
 those in which he and his father lived, he might now be 
 expected to produce. The quaint antithesis, and the 
 elaborate trimness of style and thought, which abound in 
 Phihp Henry's writings, and in parts of his son's biogra- 
 phical tribute to his memory, are peculiarities of their age, 
 which have long since growb antiquated and obsolete. 
 But the simplicity and integrity, the fen ent piety, the 
 long-suffering patience, and conscientious moderation and 
 charity, of Philip Henry, present a rare example of the 
 
vill PREFACE. 
 
 Christian pastor, which belongs to all times ; and which, 
 when this humble effort at adapting its history to the 
 habits of our age, shall have grown even more antiquated 
 and obsolete than his own quaint style, will be anew re- 
 adapted to the tastes of other generations, as one of the 
 most lovely examples of the power of divine grace on the 
 soul, in moulding the disciple to the hkeness of his 
 Master : — ^who, when he was reviled, reviled not again ; 
 when he suffered, he threatened not ; but committed him- 
 self to him that judgeth righteously. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I,— The Henry Family, ' .. . ... '11 
 
 n.— Whitehall Playmates, ... 18 
 
 m.— The Schoolboy, ... ... 28 
 
 nr.— College Life, ... ... ... ... 37 
 
 v.— Whitehall, ... ... .. ... ... 47 
 
 VL— Christ Church, Oxford, ... ... ... 58 
 
 vn.— Probation at Emeral Hall, ... .. ... 63 
 
 vm.— Ordination, ... ... ... 71 
 
 IX— Character of his Preaching, ... ... ... 86 
 
 X.— His Parish Duties, ... ... ... 97 
 
 XL— Marriage, ... ... ... ... ... 108 
 
 xu.— The Restoration, .. ... ... 122 
 
 xin.— Exclusion from WorthenbuT}', ... ... ... 131 
 
 xrv.— St. Bartholomew Act, ... .. ... 140 
 
 XV. — Removal to Broad Oak, ... .. ... 148 
 
 XVI. — Hospitalities of Broad Oak, ... ... 162 
 
 XVII.— The Oxford Act, ... ... .. ... 161 
 
 XVIII.— Return to Broad Oak, ... ... ... 171 
 
 XIX.— The Indulgence, ... ... ... ... 184 
 
 XX. — Titus Oates and the Popish Plots, ... 192 
 
 XXI. — Judge Jeffries and the Bishop of St. Asaph, "... 201 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 XXII.— The Rye-House Plot, .. ... . . S19 
 
 XXIII.— Duke of Monmouth's Insurrection, . 224 
 
 xxrv.— King James's Indulgence, ... 232 
 
 XXV. — King James's Toleration, .. .. 241 
 
 XXVI. — The Act of Indulgence, ... ... .. 247 
 
 xxviL— The Services at Broad Oak, ... ... . 256 
 
 XXVIII.— The Marriages at Broad Oak, ... ... 264 
 
 XXIX— Adopted Sons, ... .. ... ... ... 271 
 
 XXX.— The Close, ... . ... 275 
 
LIFE AND TIMES 
 
 OTTHE 
 
 REV. PHILIP HENRY, M.A. 
 
 FATHER OF THE COMMENTATOR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE HENRY FAMILY. 
 
 Towards the middle of the sixteenth century there 
 dwelt in a retired hamlet in Glamorganshire, a humble 
 Welshman named Heniy Williams, who married, and 
 brought up there, at Britton-Ferry, betwixt Neath and 
 Swansey, a young family, with little other ambition than 
 that of pursuing the honest and homely career common 
 among the natives of that quiet district of Wales. His 
 son, John, bom July 20, 1599, according to the simple 
 old customs of the time, was known as John Henry ; and 
 had he continued to dwell among his o^vti people, the 
 patriarchal custom of making the father's Christian name 
 the surname of the son, might have been continued for 
 some generations longer. John Henry, though, from all we 
 know of him, seemingly a devout man, well disposed, 
 industrious, and attached ydth all the ardour of a moun- 
 taineer to his own kindred and home, had yet some higher 
 ambition than the fields of Glamorganshire sufficed to 
 gratify. He was beset indeed with the same incentives, 
 
12 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 that send forth the Scots and the Swiss, forsaking their 
 native land to which all their love and prepossessions are 
 hound, to wander to other countries in search of fortune 
 and adventure. It is the characteristic of sucli rugged, 
 mountainous birth-lands. As with the hand of a rude 
 step-mother they thrust forth their hardy sons to seek 
 for kindlier welcome, and better sustenance among 
 strangers ; and the wanderer, — with his heart still yearning 
 after the wild home of his fathers, — gathers around a 
 more genial hearth, and amid comforts unkno\Mi to his 
 childhood, the younger generation who find there their 
 home. Even so was it with the son of Henry Williams. 
 He left his native countrv' and his father's house when 
 a mere youth, having in his purse, as his son long after- 
 wards noted, but one solitary groat, which he received 
 from his father at parting. Perhaps it was all the old 
 man could spare, except his blessing ; nor were other re- 
 lations better able to assist. "He left his native coun- 
 try," says his son, "altogether unprovided for by his re- 
 lations ; but it pleased God to bless his ingenuity and 
 industry vdih. a considerable income afterwards, which 
 enabled him to live comfortably himself, to bring up his 
 children well, and to be kind to many of his relations.''^ 
 From this we may infer that it was from no lack of love 
 or kindly sympathy that his relations saw the young 
 Welshman set out with his sohtary groat in his pocket ; 
 
 " All the world before him where to choose 
 His place of rest, and Providence his guide." 
 
 How the wanderer fared when his groat was spent, and 
 his home-stocked wallet exhausted we know not. But 
 providence blessed his exertions. A morsel cf bread, and 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRIT. 
 
 13 
 
 some nightly resting place would not fail the young 
 mountaineer, at the worst not harder than the pillow and 
 the bed that sufficed for the patriarch Jacob, as he jour- 
 neyed to Padan-aram, and met with God on the way. 
 It was his good fortune to enter the service of William 
 Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, a nobleman high in repute as 
 an encourager of worth and ability. As Chancellor of 
 the University of Oxford his interest was liberally exerted 
 in the advancement of learning ; and his name is still 
 commemorated there as one of the most zealous pro- 
 moters of the foundation of Pembroke College. Still 
 more worthy of our note is the fact that it was this noble- 
 man who was first attracted by the talent for drawing 
 which Inigo Jones displayed while but a boy. By him 
 the future architect of the new palace of Whitehall was 
 sent abroad, and maintained for some years, while he 
 studied the monuments of ancient art which afford 
 authorities and dictate laws to the modern architect. It 
 seems no imreasonable inference to draw from the en- 
 couragement afforded by such a patron to the young 
 Welshman, that he had discovered in him some peculiar 
 promise of fidehty and worth, and which the constancy 
 of his favour to him affords good proof that he never 
 after found reason to question. John Henry continued in 
 the sendee of the Earl for many years, imtil that nobleman 
 was advanced by the King, Charles I., to the office of Lord 
 Chamberlain ; when he was himself also preferred to the 
 King's service. 
 
 The principal royal residence at this period was the 
 Palace of Whitehall, an ancient edifice of great extent 
 acquired by Henry VIII., soon after the greater part of 
 
14 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 the royal Palace of Westminster had been destroyed by 
 fire. It originally bore the name of York Place, having 
 formed the town residence of the Archbishops of York. 
 It extended over a large space of ground occupying the 
 site of Parliament Street, and the public buildings that 
 now intervene betAvixt that great thoroughfare and St, 
 James' Park, and extending with its gardens and terraces, 
 to the banks of the river. The office to which John 
 Henry was appointed in the King's service was keeper of 
 the royal orchard at Whitehall, in which capacity he 
 had a lodging provided for him, on the river-side, with 
 the charge of the water-gate, which was approached by 
 the garden stairs, and by which the King and all his 
 noble or privileged visitors went and came, when visiting 
 the palace by water. The perquisites of the water-gate, 
 and the emoluments of his post, appear to have afforded 
 him a very comfortable income, "insomuch that he lived 
 plentifully and in good repute." 
 
 It was the good fortune of the wanderer from the far 
 wilds of Glamorganshire, after he had thus lighted on so 
 comfortable a resting-place, to find among the new 
 friends he made in the capital, " a virtuous pious gentle- 
 woman," for so her distinguished grandson, Matthew 
 Henry, describes her, — "A virtuous gentlewoman, and 
 one w^ho feared God above many.'' Magdalen Rochdale 
 was a native of Westminster. There John Henry, the 
 keeper of the orchard at Whitehall, made her acquaint- 
 ance ; mutual likings increased after a v liile to mutual 
 love and Magdalen became the wife of John Henry. 
 
 Such were the parents of Philip Henry, the subject of 
 this memoir ; and though placed in the midst of the 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 15 
 
 pleasures and the vanities of a court they retained their 
 simplicity of manners, their integrity, and above all the 
 exalted piety, which in an especial manner character- 
 ized the mother of so eminent a servant of God. Philip 
 was the only son of this worthy couple, bom to them on 
 the 24th of August, 1631, — a day held in remembrance 
 still by many as the aniversary of more than one sad 
 and memorable deed. On the 24th of August, 1572, the 
 streets of Paris ran with the blood of the slaughtered 
 Huguenots, or French Protestants, butchered by the com- 
 mand of their infamous sovereign, Charles IX. England 
 too bad her Bartholomew's Day, ninety years later, in 
 whose wTongs Phihp Henrj' was a sharer, adding new and 
 mournful associations to the anniversary of his birth. 
 
 " He was bom," WTites his son Matthew Henry, "at 
 Whitehall, in Westminster, on Wednesday, August 24, 
 1631, being Bartholomew Day. I find usually, in his 
 Diaiy, some pious remark or other upon the annual re- 
 turn of his birth-day. As in one year he notes, that the 
 Scripture mentions but two who obsei-ved their birth-day 
 with feasting and joy, and they were neither of them 
 copies to be written after : viz. Pharoah and Herod. — 
 But saith he, I rather obser^^e it as a day of mourning 
 and humiliation, because shapen in iniquity, and conceived 
 in sin. And when he had completed the thirtieth year 
 of his age, he noted this, — So old, and no older, Alexan- 
 der was, when he liad conquered the great world, but 
 saith he, I have not yet subdued the little world, mysel£ 
 At his tliirty-third year he hath tliis humble reflection. 
 — A long time lived to small purpose. What shall I do to 
 redeem it 1 And, at another, — I may moui-n as Csesar did, 
 
16 
 
 lilFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 whe n he reflected upon Alexander's early achievements 
 that others, younger than I am, have done much more 
 than I have done for God, the God of my life. And, to men- 
 tion no more, when he had lived forty-two years, he thus 
 writes, — I w^ould be loath to live it over again, lest, instead 
 of making it better, I should make it worse ; and besides, 
 every year and day spent on earth is lost in heaven. 
 This last note minds me of a passage I heard him tell of 
 a friend of his, who, being grown into years, was asked 
 how old he was, and answered, — On the \vrong side of 
 fifty ; which, said Mr. Henry, he should not have said ; 
 for, if he was going to heaven, it was the right side of 
 fifty. 
 
 "He always kept a will by liim ready made ; and it was 
 his custom, yearly, upon the return of his birth-day, to 
 review, and if occasion were, to renew and alter it. For 
 it is good to do that at a set time, which it is very good 
 to do at some time. The last will he made bears date, 
 — This 24th day of August, 1695, being the day of the 
 year on which I was born, 1631, and also the day of the 
 year on which by law, I died, as did also near two thou- 
 sand faithful ministers of Jesus Christ, 1662 ; alluding 
 to that clause in the Act of Uniformity, which disposes 
 of the places and benifices of ministers not conforming, 
 as if they were naturally dead." 
 
 In this, however, we anticipate the close of a life whose 
 narrative is still untold. The period of Philip's birth 
 was one in which many memorable events were tran- 
 spiring, the consequences of which were felt in ever-in- 
 creasing influence through his whole future career. In 
 this year, 1631, when Philip Henry was born in the Palace 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 17 
 
 of Whitehall, the heir, as it seemed, to court patronage 
 and favour, and the destined playmate and servitor of 
 princes. Archbishop Laud was in the very height of his 
 influence and power. Only a few months before, Dr. 
 Leighton, the father of another and more worthy Arch- 
 bishop had been arrested by a warrant from the High 
 Commission Court, under tlie dictation of Laud, and had 
 been convicted of the unpardonable crime of publishing 
 his " Appeal to Parliament, or Zion's Plea against Pre- 
 la,cy." The barbarity of the treatment he was subjected 
 to is well known to every student of English history. 
 Enacted in Protestant England, and under the sanction 
 and with the approbation of a so called, Protestant bishop, 
 the bloody rites with which the free discussion of a ques- 
 tion of ecclesiastical polity was visited, are paralleled only 
 by the Auto-da-fes, of Spanish or Mexican inquisitors. 
 Charles too, the haughty sovereign of England, was pur- 
 suing the despotic career that, a few years later, exhausted 
 the long-enduring patience of his people, and at length 
 brought him to the scaffold. It was at the commence- 
 ment of this very memorable era, that Philip Henry was 
 born. His name appears to have been intended as a grate- 
 ful acknowledgment by his father of the kindness and 
 fevour bestowed on him by the son of his first patron, 
 Philip, Earl of Pembroke, who stood sponsor for his young 
 protegee at the font, and continued to favour him as long 
 as he lived. On the death of this nobleman in 1669, — 
 long after this godson had experienced the bitterest fruits 
 of a restoration-government's tender-mercies, his son 
 Philip succeeded to the title, and remembered the old 
 kindness of his father for one, who, not improbably may, 
 
 B 
 
18 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 have been the friend of his own youth. The davv^n of 
 existence of the future eminent nonconformist confessor 
 was strangely enough encircled with all the tokens of 
 court favour, and the blandishments of aristocratic conde- 
 scension. In addition to the old friend of his father's 
 house, the Earl of Pembroke, young Philip had for spon- 
 sors, in accordance with the practice which still remains 
 in use in the Church of England, — James, Earl of Carlisle, 
 and Lady Catherine Howard, Countess of Salisbury. 
 A feiii- and promising beginning, that, told at his old grand- 
 father's hearth amid the mountains of Wales, would have 
 seemed scare conceivable honours for a scion of his house. 
 It was indeed a prosperous and most unexpected state of 
 things for him who had left his highland home with staff in 
 hand, and with only one solitary groat, his father's parting 
 gift, wherewith to jjurchase the favour of strangers. 
 Might he not exclaim with the old Hebrew patriarch, 
 to whom we have already compared him : "0 God of my 
 fe-thers, I am not worthy of the least of all the mercies, 
 and of all the truth, which thou hast showed unto thy 
 servant ; for with my staff I passed over this Jordan, 
 and now I am become two bands !" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHITEHALL PLAYMATES. 
 
 Young Philip Henry grew up under the tender and 
 pious nursing of his good mother, little conscious of the 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 19 
 
 stormy scenes that were being enacted throughout Eng • 
 land although himself born in the Palace of Whitehall, the 
 focus, as it were, of all these far-reaching actions and events, 
 which made Whitehall the last lodging and the last prison 
 of Charles I., where he bade so tender a farewell to some 
 most dear to him, and from whence he stepped on to the 
 fatal scaffold, Nor was Philip the only thoughtless 
 light-hearted boy who strolled in the old orchard of 
 Whitehall, and romped in mirthful glee through the in- 
 tricate galleries and courts of the palace. The young 
 Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, afterwards suc- 
 cessors to their father's throne, as Charles XL, and James 
 II., — were nearly of the same age as Philip Henry ; and 
 still more deeply involved as they were in the issues of 
 that eventful era, they shared in the sports of the future 
 nonconformist divine : heedless of more momentous occur- 
 rences tlian the passing incidents of their boyish play. 
 Happy, happy boyhood ! Hopeful, innocent, and joyous ; 
 full of the present, and picturing only a glad and prosper- 
 ous future. Happy young Philip ! was it not as if the 
 lamb should share its spring gambols with the suckling 
 wolf? The playmate, of the future nonconformist divine 
 the Restoration monarch, who drove out nearly two thou- 
 sand faithful ministers of Christ from their homes and their 
 charges — Philip Henry his youthful playfellow among 
 the number, — and forbad them under heavy pains and 
 penalties to teach any more in the name of their Master ; 
 and James II., the merciless agent of his brother in per- 
 secuting and torturing the children of the Covenant, 
 amid the wild moors and mountains of Scotland, and 
 who at length forfeited his throne as a faithless restorer 
 
so 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 of popery to England's faith, and ot despotism to her 
 government. Yet Henry never forgot his old affection 
 for these companions of his youth. His son, in referring 
 to this, remarks : " Prince Charles and the Duke of York 
 being somewhat near of an age to him, he was in his 
 childhood very much an attendant on them in their play, 
 and they were often with him at his father's house, 
 and they were wont to tell him what preferment he 
 should have at court, as soon as he was fit for it. He 
 kept a book to his dying day, which the Duke of York 
 gave him ; and I have heard him bewail the loss of two 
 curious pictures, which he gave him likewise. Arch- 
 bishop Laud took a particular kindness to him when he 
 was a child, because he would be very officious to attend 
 at the water-gate, (which was pai-t of his father's charge 
 in Whitehall,) to let the Archbishop through when he 
 came late from Council, to cross the water to Lambeth." 
 
 Another and no less curious coincident was this favour 
 of Laud for young Philip. Well might he rejoice amid all 
 his after- sufferings, that God had delivered him fi-om the 
 snares of a court. With such patrons and under such 
 favour, how strangely different is the career which must 
 have been anticipated for him by the most far-seeing of his 
 contemporaries, and the friends and patrons who gathered 
 around the font on the solemn occasion of his dedication to 
 God in baptism ; or w^ho watched his sports as he grew up 
 surrounded with the gaieties and the dangers of the royal 
 Palace of Whitehall, in that seventeenth century, when 
 royal prerogatives, and its proud assumptions, received so 
 rude a shock ! 
 
 But happy above all was Philip Henry in the teach- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 21 
 
 ing of a mother, who though of Ccesar's household, was 
 a servant of Christ. The language of the Christian poet 
 of a later age, might well have expressed the thoughts of 
 him whose childhood was passed in courts, and in intimate 
 fellowship with princes, heirs of England's throne : — 
 
 • ' My boast is not that I can trace my birth 
 From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth : 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise 
 The son of paients passed into the skies." 
 
 Matthew Henry remarks of the instructor of liis father's 
 youth, "His mother, Mrs. Magdalen Rochdale, was a 
 virtuous, pious gentlewoman, and one that feared God 
 above many. She was altogether dead to the vanities and 
 pleasures of the com*t, though she lived in the midst of 
 them. She looked well to the ways of her household ; 
 prayed with them daily, catecliized her children, and 
 taught them the good knowledge of the Lord betimes. 
 I have heard him speak of his learning Perkins's Six 
 Principles, when he was very young ; and he often men- 
 tioned, with thankfulness to God, his great happiness in 
 having such a mother, who was to him as Lois and Eunice 
 were to Timothy, acquainting him with the Scriptures 
 from his childhood ; and, there appearing in him early 
 inclinations both to learning and piety, she devoted him 
 in his tender years to the service of God, in the work of 
 the ministry. She died of a consumption, March 6, 1645, 
 leaving behind her only this son and five daughters. A 
 little before she died, she had this saying, 'My head is 
 in heaven, and my heart is in heaven; it is but one step 
 nore, and I shall be there too.' " 
 One circumstance that made a strong impression on 
 
22 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 the boy's mind he frequently reverted to in after-life. 
 When the long parliament boldly took the reigns of govern- 
 ment into its own hands, the first evidence of its power 
 and determination, was the impeachment of the King's 
 ablest and most despotic adviser, Wentworth, Earl of 
 Strafford : an action of which Milton speaks in exulting 
 admiration. This was followed by the arrest of Laud, a 
 man less feared than detested by the patriots of England 
 for his narrow-minded bigotry and cruelty. The Arch- 
 bishop was sent to the Tower, where he long lay in prison, 
 unheeded by his enemies, amid the momentous events that 
 were then transpiring in England. At that time old 
 John Henry remembered the kindness of the primate to 
 himself, and, with his son Philip in his hand, visited him 
 in his prison in the Tower. That interview was never 
 forgot by the boy. There was much in it to impress his 
 his young mind. The prcud minister and primate of 
 England— whom he had so often waited on with rever- 
 ence and admiring awe, as he stepped from his gay barge 
 at the stairs of Whitehall orchard, on his way to advise 
 with the King, — now lay a poor despised prisoner, sunk 
 from all his greatness, and anticipating only the vengeance 
 of his enemies in the violent death which was at length 
 adjudged to him in requital of his crimes. Matthew 
 Henry often heard his father speak of this visit to the 
 captive primate, and relate that on that occasion Laud 
 presented him with some new money. The scenes indeed 
 of his early life must have presented so striking a contrast 
 to his career in after-life, and to the circumstances in 
 which he was placed when recalling them for the benefit 
 of his son ; that it need excite no wonder to find that 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 23 
 
 tliey frequently formed the subject of conversation at his 
 fireside. It was a period of English history in which all 
 were deeply interested, and one can see from these pass- 
 ing notes of the old man's familiar discourse, that the 
 prepossessions and sympathies of his early years often 
 blended themselves, in happy inconsistency, with the 
 conscientious convictions of his later life. All the wrongs 
 that he suffered from the goveniment of the restoration, 
 never obliterated, in his generous mind, the condescension 
 and kindness of the companions of his boyhood in the 
 sports of Whitehall palace and orchard. 
 
 "These circumstances of his childhood he would some- 
 times speak of among his fi-iends, not as glorying in them, 
 but taking occasion from thence to bless God for his de- 
 liverance from the snares of the court, in the midst of 
 wliich it is so very hard to maintain a good conscience 
 and the power of religion, that it hath been said, though, 
 blessed be God, it is not a rule without exception. Exeat 
 €X aula gui velit essepius. The breaking up and scatter- 
 ing of the court, by the calamities of 1641, as it dashed 
 the expectations of his court preferments, so it prevented 
 the danger of court entanglements. And, though it was 
 not, like Moses's, a choice of his own, when come to years, 
 to quit the court ; yet when he was come to years, he 
 always expressed a gi-eat satisfaction in his removal from 
 it, and blessed God, who chose his inheritance so much 
 better for liim. 
 
 " Yet it may not be improper to observe here, what was 
 obvious to all who conversed with him ; viz. that he had 
 the most sweet and obliging air of courtesy and civility 
 that could be ; which some atributed in part to his early 
 
24 
 
 LIFE AST) TIMES OF 
 
 education at court. His mein and carriage were always 
 so very decent and respectful, that it could not but win 
 the hearts of all he had to do with. Never was any 
 man further from that rudeness and moroseness which 
 some scholars, and too many that profess religion, eitiier 
 valfuUy affect, or carelessly allow themselves in, some- 
 times to the reproach of their profession. It is one of 
 the laws of our holy religion, exemplified in the conver- 
 sation of this good man, to honour all men. Sanctified 
 civility is a great ornament to Christianity. It was a 
 saying he often used, — Religion doth not destroy good 
 manners ; and yet he was very far from anything of 
 vanity in apparel, or formality of compliment in address; 
 his conversation was all natural and easy to himself and 
 others, and nothing appeared in him, which even a severe 
 critic could justly call affected. This temper of his tended 
 very much to the adorning of the doctrine of God our 
 Saviour ; and the general transcript of such an excellent 
 copy, would do much towards the healing of those wounds 
 which religion hath received, in the house of her friends, 
 by the contrary. But to return to his story : — 
 
 " The first Latin school he went to was at St. Martin's 
 church, under the teaching of one Mr. Bonner, who 
 entertained a warm afiection for him, and took great pains 
 in helping forward his studies. Afterwards he was re- 
 moved to Battersey, where Mr. Wells was his school- 
 master. The grateful mention which in some of his 
 papers he makes of these that were the guides and instruc- 
 tors of his childhood and youth, brings to mind that 
 French proverb, 'To father, teacher, and God all-suffi- 
 cient, none can render equivalent.' • 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 25 
 
 "In the year 1643, when he was about twelve years old, 
 he was admitted to Westminster School, in the fourth 
 form, under Mr. Thomas Vincent, then usher, whom he 
 would often speak of as a most able, diligent schoolmaster, 
 and one who grieved so much at the dulness and non- 
 proficiency of any of his scholars, that falling into a 
 consumption, I have heard ^Ir. Henry say of him, — He 
 even killed himself with false Latin. 
 
 "A while after he was taken into the upper school under 
 Mr. Richard Busby, aftersvards Dr. Busby; and in 
 October, 1645, he was admitted King's scholar, and was 
 first of the election, partly by his own merit, and partly 
 by the interest of the Earl of Pembroke. 
 
 "Here he profited greatly in learning, nor was there 
 any part of his hfe which he more frequently spoke of 
 with pleasure than the years he spent at Westminster 
 School. When he was advanced in years, he v/ould 
 readily in discourse quote passages out of the classic 
 authors that were not common, and had them ad unguem, 
 and yet he rarely used any such tilings in his preaching, 
 though sometimes, if very apposite, he inserted them in 
 his notes. He was very ready and exact in the Greek 
 accents, the quantities of words, and all the several kinds 
 of Latin verse ; and often pressed it upon young scholars, 
 in the midst of their university-learning, not to forget 
 their school-authors. 
 
 " Here his usual recreation at vacant times was, either 
 reading the printed accounts of public occurrences, or at- 
 tending the courts at Westminster Hall, to hear the trials 
 and arguments there, which I have heard him say, he hath 
 often done to the loss of his dinner, and oftener of his play. 
 
 1 
 
26 
 
 LITE AIJD TIMES OF 
 
 " Soon after the unliappy wars began, there was a 
 daily morning lecture at the abbey-church, between six 
 and eight o'clock, preached by seven worthy members 
 of the assembly of divines in course, viz. Mr. Marshal, 
 Mr. Palmer, Mr. Herl, Dr. Staunton, Mr. Nye, Mr. Whit- 
 aker, and Mr. Hill. It was the request of his pious 
 mother to Mr. Busby, that he would give her son leave 
 to attend that lecture daily, which he did, not abating 
 anything of his school-exercise, in which he kejjt pace 
 with the rest ; but only dispensing with his attendance for 
 that hour. And the Lord was pleased to make good im- 
 pressions on his soul, by the sennons he heard there. 
 His mother also took him with her every Thursday, to 
 Mr. Case's lecture at St. Martin's. On the Lord's day 
 he sat under the powerful ministry of Mr. Stephen Mar- 
 slial; in the morning at New-chapel, in the afternoon 
 at St. Margaret's Westminster, which was their parish 
 church. This minister and ministry he would, to his 
 last, sp^ak of with great respect and thankfulness to 
 ' God, as that by which he was, through grace, in the 
 beginning of his days, begotten again to a Uvely hope. 
 I have heard him speak of it, as the saying of some vdse 
 men at that time, — That if all the Presbyterians had been 
 like Mr, Stephen Marshal, all the Independents like 
 Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs, and aU the Episcopalians like 
 Archbishop Usher, the breaches of the church would 
 soon have been healed. He also attended constantly 
 upon the monthly fasts at St. Margaret's, where the best 
 and ablest ministers of England preached before the then 
 House of Commons; and the service of the day was 
 carried on with great strictness and solemnity, from eight 
 
THE REY. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 27 
 
 in the morning till four in the evening. He likewise 
 frequented extraordinary fasts and thanksgivings. Here 
 he used to sit always upon the pulpit stairs, and it was 
 his constant pi-actice, from eleven or twelve years old, to 
 write, as ^le could, all the sermons he heard, which he 
 kept very carefully, transcribed many of them afterwards, 
 and, notwithstanding liis many removals, they are yet 
 forthcoming. 
 
 "At these monthly fasts, he himself has recorded it, 
 he had often sweet meltings of soul in prayer, and con- 
 fession of sin, (particularly once with special remark, w^hen 
 Mr. William Bridge, of Yarmouth, prayed,) many warm 
 and lively truths came home to his heart, and he daily 
 increased in that wisdom and knowledge which is to 
 salvation. Read his reflections upon this, which he wrote 
 many years after. ' If ever any child,' saith he, ' such 
 as I then was, between the tenth and fifteenth years of 
 my age, enjoyed line upon line, precept upon precept, I 
 did. And was it in vain? I trust, not altogether in 
 vain. My soul rejoiceth, and is glad at the remembrance 
 of it ; the word distilled as the dew, and dropt as the 
 rain. I loved it, and loved the messengers of it ; their 
 very feet were beautiful to me. And, Lord, what a mercy 
 was it, that, at a time when the poor counties were laid 
 waste ; when the noise of drums and trumpets,, and the 
 clattering of arms, w^ere heard there, and the ways to 
 Sion mourned, that then my lot should be where there 
 was peace and quietness, where the voice of the turtle 
 was heard, and there w^as great plenty of gospel oppor- 
 tunities ! Bless the Lord, 0 my soul ! As long as I live 
 I will bless the Lord. I will praise my God w^hile I have 
 
28 
 
 LITE AND TIMES OF 
 
 my being. Had it been only the restraint that it laid 
 upon me, whereby I was kept from the common sins of 
 other children and youths, such as cursing, swearing, 
 sabbath-breaking, and the like, I were bound to be very 
 thankful. But that it prevailed, through gi*ace, effectually 
 to bring me to God, how much am I indebted ! And 
 tfvhat shall I render ?' 
 
 "Thus we see how the dews of heaven softened his 
 heart by degrees." 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 THE SCHOOLBOr. 
 
 There is something altogether delightful in the picture 
 of the piously nurtured boy, and of his excellent mother 
 training him up with loving earnestness " in the way he 
 should go," It gives us an insight into the movement of 
 those great under-currents in society that fix the character 
 of a succeeding age. We trace in this the development 
 of influences, the fruits of which were productive of by 
 far the noblest and mightiest revolution that any nation 
 of Europe has known, — a revolution which has been the 
 parent of all succeeding ones wherein the liberty of the 
 people has been the object of pursuit. In those quiet 
 years, while Magdalen Rochdale was tending her infant 
 son, and leading him on step by step in knowledge and 
 understanding ; in wisdom and stature ; — in those very 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRT. 29 
 
 years Charles was extending the royal favour to the 
 Roman Catholics, under the influence of his popish Queen, 
 while so thoroughly did he draw back from that alliance 
 \N'ith continental Protestantism, which Queen Elizabeth 
 had so zealously maintained, that he forbad his ambassador 
 at Paris to countenance by his presence the services of the 
 French Protestant Church. An eminent French Protes- 
 tant writer, M. Guizot, remarks, when wi-iting of this 
 period, "Notwithstanding the energy and zeal of his 
 principal councillors, notwithstanding the tranquil state 
 of the country, notwithstanding the private worth of the 
 King's conduct, and the proud bearing of his language, 
 the government was without strength and without con- 
 sideration. Assailed by domestic dissensions, carried 
 away alternately by opposing influences, sometimes 
 arrogantly shaking off the yoke of the laws, sometimes 
 giving way before the slightest diflSculties, it proceeded 
 without any settled plan; it forgot, at ever}'- turn, its 
 own designs. It had abandoned, on the continent, the 
 cause of Protestantism, and had even forbidden Lord 
 Scudamore, its ambassador at Paris, to attend divine 
 service in the chapel of the reformers, because the forms 
 did not come near enough to the rites *of the English 
 Church. And yet it allowed the Marquis of Hamilton to 
 raise in Scotland a body of six thousand men, and to go 
 and fight at their head (1631) under the banners of 
 Gustavus Adolphus, not forseeing he would there imbibe 
 the principles and creed of the very Puritans whom the 
 Church of England proscribed. Charles's faith in the 
 reformed religion, such as Henry VIIL and Elizabeth 
 had made it, was sincere ; and yet, whether from tender- 
 
 I 
 
30 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 ness to his wife, or from a spirit of moderation and 
 justice, or from an instinct of what suited absolute power, 
 he often granted to the Catholics, not only a liberty at 
 that time illegal, but almost avowed favour. Archbishop 
 Laud, as sincere as his master, wrote against the court of 
 Rome, even preached strongly against the worship con- 
 ducted in the queen's chapel, yet at the same time he 
 showed himself so favourable to the system of the Romish 
 Church, that the Pope thought himself authorized to offer 
 him a cardinal's hat, (Aug. 1633.)" 
 
 Yet it is at this period, in the Palace of Whitehall, 
 and in the very vortex of such influences, that we find 
 this Eunice training up her child to the service of God, 
 weaning him from the vanities of the world while in daily 
 contact with them, and devoting him, like the child 
 Samuel, — an offering lent unto the Lord for ever. The 
 circumstances are altogether remarkable. The palace of 
 Charles Stuart becomes the birth-place of a race of 
 eminent divines no less noted for sincere and simple 
 Christian piety, than for a self-sacrificing devoted»ess to 
 the doctrines and to the ecclesiastical polity of the Puri- 
 tan Nonconformists. 
 
 Might not this Christian mother, with a peculiar sense 
 of its appropriateness, have adopted for herself the prayer 
 of the Hebrew mother, when she brought her child to Eli, 
 and dedicated him to God for the service of his temple ! It 
 sounds from her lips like the language of prophecy, 
 as we seem to hear its devout strains from amid the 
 revelry, the profane mirth or the superstitious cere- 
 monial of ritual worship, in the courts of old White- 
 hall, where Queen Henrietta, and her Romish priests 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 31 
 
 swayed the monarch and his councillors to their own un- 
 doing. 
 
 Read once more the thrilling language of the old 
 Hebrew thanksgiving, while you conceive of it as the utter- 
 ance of Magdalen Rochdale, the wife of the pilgrim from 
 Glamorganshire, both of them devoted in their love to 
 their royal master. 
 
 " My heart rejoiceth in the Lord : mine horn is ex- 
 alted in the Lord : my mouth is enlarged over mine 
 enemies ; because I rejoice in thy salvation. There is 
 none holy as the Lord : for there is none besides thee ; 
 neither is there any rock like our God. Talk no more 
 80 exceeding proudly ; let not arrogancy come out of 
 your mouth : for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by 
 him actions are weighed. The bows of the mighty men 
 are broken, and they that stumbled are girded with 
 strength. They that were full have hired out themselves 
 for bread ; and they that were hungry ceased : so that the 
 barren hath bom seven ; and she that hath many children 
 is w^axed feeble. The Lord killeth, and maketh alive ; 
 he biingeth down to the grave, and bringeth up. The 
 Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich : he bringeth low, 
 and lifteth up. He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, 
 and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them 
 among princes, and to make them inherit the throne of 
 glory ; for the pillars of the earth are the Lord's, and he 
 hath set the world upon them. He will keep the feet 
 of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness ; 
 for by strength shall no man prevail. The adversaries 
 of the Lord shall be broken to pieces ; out of heaven 
 shall he thunder upon them ; the Lord shall judge the 
 
32 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 ends of the earth ; and he shall give strength unto his 
 king, and exalt the horn of his anointed." 
 
 Seems it not, amid the shaking of thrones, and the 
 terrible struggles for right and mastery in that old seven- 
 teenth century, as if a prophetess were seeing beyond the 
 cloudy horizon of mortal vision, and triumphing in the 
 coming victory of truth ! 
 
 "But it is time we return to Westminster School, 
 where, having begun to learn Christ, we left him in the 
 successful pursuit of other learning, under the eye and 
 care of that great master. Dr. Busby ; who, on the 
 account of his precocity and diligence, took a particular 
 kindness to him, called him his child, and would some- 
 times tell him he should be his heir ; and there was no 
 love lost betwixt them." 
 
 His recent affectionate biographer, Sir John Bicker- 
 ston Williams, himself a descendant of the Henry family, 
 adds in reference to this : " Mr. John Ireland, the editor 
 of Hogarth's works, numbered Mr. Henry among his an- 
 cestors. His mother, the daughter of the Rev. Thomas 
 Holland, of Wem, in Shropshire, was Mr. Henry's great- 
 grand-daughter. 
 
 "The first time Mr. Ireland was introduced to Dr. John- 
 son, he was stated to be a descendant of Mr. Philip Henry, 
 on which that great man remarked, in his emphatic 
 manner, — Sir, you are descended from a man, whose 
 genuine simplicity, and unaffected piety, would have 
 done honour to any sect of Christians ; and, as a scholar, 
 he must have had uncommon acquirements, when Busby 
 boasted of having been his tutor." 
 
 " Dr. Busby was noted as a very severe schoolmaster, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 33 
 
 especially in the beginning of his time. But Mr. Henry 
 would say sometimes, that, as in so great a school there 
 was need of a strict discipline, so for his own part, of the 
 four years he was in the school, he never felt the weight 
 of his hand but once, and then, saith he, in some of the 
 remarks of his youth, which he wrote long after, ' I de- 
 served it.' For, being monitor of the chamber, and, 
 according to the duty of his place, being sent out to seek 
 one that played truant, he found him out where he had 
 hid himself, and, at his earnest request, promised to make 
 an excuse for him, and to say he could not find him ; 
 which, saith he, in penitential reflection upon it after- 
 wards, 'I wickedly did.' Next morning the truant coming 
 under examination, and being asked whether he saw the 
 monitor, said. Yes, he did ; at which Dr. Busby much 
 surprised turned liis eye upon the monitor, with this 
 word, Kat crv tIkvov; What thou, my son, and gave him 
 correction, and appointed him to make a penitential copy 
 of Latin verses, which, when he brought, he gave him 
 sixpence, and received him into favour again. 
 
 "Among the mercies of God to him in his youth, (and 
 he would say, it were well if parents would keep an 
 account of those for their children, till they came to be 
 capable of doing it for themselves, and then to set them 
 upon the doing of it,) he records a remarkable deliver- 
 ance he had at Westminster School. It was customary 
 among the studious boys, for one, or two, or more, to sit 
 up the former part of the night at study ; and when 
 they went to bed, about midnight, to call others; and 
 they others, at two or three o'clock, as they desired. 
 His rec[uest was to be called at twelve ; being awaked, 
 
34 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 he desired his candle might be lighted, which stuck to 
 the bed's head ; but he dropt asleep again, and the candle 
 fell, and burnt part of the bed and bolster, ere he awaked ; 
 but, through God's good providence, seasonable help 
 came in, the fire was soon quenched, and he received no 
 harm. This gave him occasion, long after, to say, — 
 ' It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed.' 
 
 "When he was at Westminster School he was employed 
 by Dr. Busby, as some others of the most ingenious and 
 industrious of his scholars were, in their reading of the 
 Greek Authors, to collect, by his direction, some materials 
 for that excellent Greek Grammar, which the Doctor 
 afterwards published. 
 
 " But, be the school never so agreeable, youth is desirous 
 to commence man by a removal from it. This step he 
 took in the sixteenth year of his age. It was the ancient 
 custom of Westminster School, that all the King's scho- 
 lars, who stood candidates for an election to the Univer- 
 sity, were to receive the Lord's Supper the Easter before, 
 which he did with the rest, in St. Margaret's Church, at 
 Easter, 1647. He often spnke of the great pains which 
 Dr. Busby took with his scholars that were to approach 
 to that solemn ordinance, for several weeks before, at 
 stated times ; with what skill and seriousness of applica- 
 tion, and manifest concern for their souls, he opened to 
 them the nature of the ordinance, and the work they had 
 to do in it ; and instructed them what was to be done 
 in preparation for it, and this he made a business of, 
 appointing them their religious exercises instead of their 
 school exercises. What success this had, through the 
 grace of God, upon young Henry, for whom the doctor 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 3fi 
 
 had a particular regard, read from his o^yn hand. ' There 
 had heen treaties,' saith he, 'before, between my soul 
 and Jesus Christ, with some weak overtures towards him ; 
 but then, then, I think, it was, that the match was made, 
 the knot tied ; then I set myself, in the strength of 
 divine grace, about the great work of self-examination, 
 in order to repentance ; and then I repented ; that is, 
 solemnly and seriously, with some poor meltings of soul. 
 I confessed my sins before God, original and actual, 
 judging and condemning myself for them, and casting 
 away from me all my transgressions, receiving Christ 
 Jesus the Lord, as the Lord my Righteousness, and de- 
 voting and dedicating my whole self, absolutely and un- 
 resei-vedly, to his fear and service, i^fter which, coming 
 to the ordinance, there, there I received him indeed; 
 and He became mine ; — I say, Mine. ' Bless the Lord 
 0 my soul !' " 
 
 Before passing on from this most attractive period of 
 young Henry's life, it will be interesting to glance for a 
 moment at the reflections he himself afterwards drew 
 from the schooling of tliis period and his own youthful 
 experience, as to the best mode of training the young, 
 and the reasonable expectations in which Christian 
 l)arent3 may indulge. Like all the other -vmtings of this 
 good old divine, his reflections on the training of youth 
 abound with that quaint and curiously balanced anti- 
 thesis, which was so much prized by the writers of that 
 age ; and by none more skilfully handled tlian by Philip 
 Henry. Like others who have enjoyed the blessings of 
 pious parental instruction, and been guarded at every 
 step of early life from the temptations and besetting sins 
 
36 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 peculiarly incident to that period ; he hesitated to name 
 the exact period when he forsook the vassalage of 
 Satan for the service of God. We have seen indeed that 
 he ascribed to the serious preparations for partaking of 
 the Lord's Supper, under the guidance of his excellent 
 teacher Dr. Busby, the final and decisive confirmation 
 of that momentous change which we name conversion ; 
 — the passing from death to life ; — the heing horn again. 
 "Then, then," says he, " I think it was that the match 
 was made, the knot tied ;" and he frequently afterwards 
 refers, with deepest gratitude, to the earnest solicitude 
 and care of his old master for his instruction in the best 
 of all knowledge. 
 
 Nevertheless, it will be observed that he lays no less 
 stress in another place on the preaching at St. Margaret's, 
 Westminster, and elsewhere, which he was wont to listen 
 to under his mother's guidance ; and his son remarks, 
 " He would blame those who laid so much stress on people 
 knowing the exact time of their conversion, which he 
 thought was, with many, not possible to do. Who can 
 so soon be aware of the day -break, or of the springing 
 up of the seed sown 1 The work of grace is better known 
 in its effects than in its causes. 
 
 " He would bear his testincony to the comfort and benefit 
 of early piety, and recommend it to all young people, as 
 a good thing to bear the yoke of the Lord Jesus in youth. 
 He would often witness against that wicked proverb, 'A 
 young saint, an old devil ;' and would have it said rather, 
 — A young saint, an old angel. He observed concerning 
 Obadiah, that he was a courtier, yet he feared the Lord 
 from his youth ; and it is added of him, that he 'feared 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 37 
 
 the Lord greatly.' Those that would come to fear God 
 greatly, must learn to fear him from their youth. No 
 man did his duty so naturally as Timothy did, who, from 
 a ciiild, knew the Holy Scriptures. He would sometimes 
 apply to this that common saying, — He that would thrive, 
 must rise at five. And, in dealing with young people, 
 how earnestly would he press this upon them, — I tell 
 you, you cannot begin too soon to be religious, but you 
 may put it off too long. Manna must be gathered early, 
 and he that is the first, must have the first. He often 
 inculcated. Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth : 
 or, as in the original, 'the days of thy choice,' — thy 
 choice days, and thy choosing days." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 In the month of March, 1645, and probably for long 
 months before, Magdalen Rochdale, the mother of Philip 
 Henrj^ lay a-dying, in a still chamber of Whitehall 
 palace. The King had long before left it to return only 
 once again. But his faithful old servitors lived on there 
 still. It is the month of March of that year, now more 
 than two centuries gone by ; scarce three months later 
 and the defeated King flung himself despairingly on the 
 advancing lines of victorious foes as he sought in vain to 
 rally his friends for one more last struggle at Naseby 
 
38 
 
 LIFE AXD TIMES OF 
 
 Field. But these mighty movements were of little 
 moment to the family circle that watched aroimd the 
 deathbed of that Christian parent, in the orchard-keeper's 
 lodging at Whitehall. Philip Henry- was then not quite 
 fourteen years of age. Old enough to have some conception 
 of the tioie value of such a parent, and of the irreparable 
 loss he ^yas about to sustain : yet young enough to re- 
 tain all the sanguine buoyancy, and all the fresh gush of 
 genuine heart-bom affection which belongs to youthful 
 years. He was not longer to enjoy the presence and the 
 care of the beloved monitor of his youth. Consumption 
 had laid its chiU touch on her delicate frame, had tinged 
 with its hectic flush her pale cheek, and had kindled its 
 unearthly lustre in the eye that had so often beamed 
 forth love. Death had marked her for his own. But the 
 deathbed of a Christian parent teaches lessons not soon 
 forgot ; and as the boy gazed on that dying face, and 
 heard the soft utterance of her fainting voice, still pray- 
 ing for her child, and promising reunion with him and 
 his sisters, and her beloved husband hereafter, " A family 
 in heaven," we cannot doubt that it was felt as another 
 dedication of him to the Lord. 
 
 The orphan boy and his sisters — aU probably older than 
 him, — gazed together on the loved countenance where 
 death had set his seal. Some natural tears they shed. But 
 it was a deathbed full of hope and joy ; and though the 
 fireside seat remained vacant, and the table-head wanted 
 its wonted occupant, time would soon heal the wounds of 
 these young hearts, and mellow their grief into the sad yet 
 sweet memories of the most loved, — the long-remembered 
 lead. For fully two years after tMs event, pregnant with 
 
THE REV. rniLIP HENRY. 
 
 39 
 
 such momentous consequences to the subject of our 
 memoir, he continued under the tuition of his excellent 
 instructor Dr Busby, whom he ever after remembered 
 with gratitude and atFection. At the end of that period he 
 w^s chosen, from liis good scholarship and the interest of 
 his fi'iends, to be entered on the foundation of Christ 
 Church College, Oxford. Four othei-s were selected from 
 among the Westminster boys at the same time, among 
 whom he ranked second, in the examinations that tested 
 their proficiency. His son adds — "At his election he was 
 very much countenanced and smiled upon by his god- 
 father, the Earl of Pembroke, who was one of the 
 electors." 
 
 Though he was chosen to the university in May, yet, 
 being then young, under sixteen, and in love with his 
 school-learning, he made no gi-eat haste thither. It was 
 in December following, 1647, that he removed to Oxford. 
 Some merciful pi*ovidences in his journey, he being a 
 young traveller, affected him much, he used to speak of 
 them, with a sense of God's goodness to him, according to 
 the impressions then made by them. He has recorded 
 th^m with, tliis tliankfiil note, — That there may be a 
 great mercy in a small matter ; as the care that was 
 taken of him by strangers, when he fainted and was sick 
 in his inn the first night ; and his casual meeting with 
 Mr. Annesly, son to the Viscount Valentia, (who was 
 chosen from Westminster School at the same time that 
 he was,) when liis other company, going another way, 
 had left him alone, and utterly at a loss what to do." 
 
 The years spent at the university frequently prove the 
 most dangerous period of life-time, when the unguarded 
 
40 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 youth SOWS, broadcast, seed whose fruits embitter his 
 whole after-life. The extreme youth of Henry rendered 
 his entering at Oxford only the more dangerous, but 
 happy are those, who before being exposed to such subtle 
 temptations, as youth, and wild passions, and manifold 
 facilities to evil, combine to present, having learned to 
 lean on something more enduring than their own strength 
 and good resolves. Such was the case with young Philip 
 Henry. He had been taught io remember in the days 
 of' his youth, before the evil days come, him who is 
 the only true comforter, and he found in him an ever-' 
 present helper. 
 
 "Being come to Oxford, he was immediately entered 
 commoner of Christ Church, where Dr. Samuel Fell was 
 then Dean ; the tutor assigned to liim and the rest of 
 that election was Mr. Underwood, a very learned, ingeni- 
 ous gentlemen. 
 
 " His godfather, the Earl of Pembroke, had given him 
 ten pounds to buy liim a gown, to pay his fees, and to 
 set out with. This in his papers he marks as a season- 
 able mercy in regard to some straits, which Providence, 
 by the calamity of the times had brought his father to. 
 God had taught him from his youth that excellent prin- 
 ciple, which he adhered to all his days, that every crea- 
 ture is to us that and no more, than God makes it to be ; 
 and, therefore, while many seek the ruler's favour, and so 
 expect to make their fortunes, as they call it, seeing 
 every man's judgment proceedeth from the Lord, .it is 
 our wisdom to seek his favour, who is the E uler of rulers ; 
 an effectual way to make sure our happiness, 
 
 " To the proper studies of this place he now vigorously 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 41 
 
 addressed himself ; though still retaining a great partiality 
 for the classic authors, and the more polite exercises he 
 loved so well at Westminster School. 
 
 "He was admitted student of Christ Church, March 24, 
 1647-8, by Dr. Henr\- Hammond, that great man, then 
 Sub-Dean, who called him his godbrother, the Earl of 
 Pembroke being his godfather also, and Prince Henry the 
 I her, who gave him his name." 
 Young Henry had scarcely been a month at Oxford 
 ere he was again brought within the vortex of those 
 ■.artling amd momentous changes which so peculiarly 
 haracterised the times in which he lived. He had visited 
 the old primate, Archbishop Laud, in his prison in the 
 Tower. That do%vn£all of the proudest and most hated 
 of the English Prelates, was speedily followed by the 
 exclusion of all the others fix)m parliament, and at length 
 by the total aboUtion of Episcopacy as the national re- 
 li£,aon. This was followed by visitations of the univer- 
 sities ; Commissions of Triers, appointed to inquire into 
 the life, learning, and doctrine of the whole body of the 
 clergj- ; and the like radical cures for evils complained 
 of By means of these much good was undoubtedly 
 etFected, though not without some cases of harshness and 
 injustice. 
 
 In December 1647. Philip Henr\' removed to Oxford, 
 and in the succeeding month of March, he wis fuUy entered 
 as a student of Christ Church College. *' The visitation 
 of the university by the parliament happened the very 
 next month after. Oxford had been for a good while in 
 the hands of the parliament, and no change made : but 
 now the Earl of Pembroke, and several others thereunto 
 
42 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 appointed, came hither to settle things upon a new foot- 
 ing. The account ]\Ir. Henry in his papers gives of this 
 is to the following purpose : The sole question which the 
 visitors proposed to each person, high and low, in every 
 college, that had any place of profit, was this, 'Will you 
 submit to the power of the parliament in this present 
 visitation V To which all were to give in their answer 
 in writing, and accordingly were either displaced or con- 
 tinued. Some cheerfully complied, others absolutely 
 refused; among whom he would sometimes tell of one 
 that was but of his own standing, who gave in this bold 
 answer, ' I neither can nor will submit to the power of 
 the parliament in this present visitation ; I say I cannot, 
 I say I will not.' Others answered doubtfully, plead- 
 ing youth and ignorance in such matters. Mr. Henry's 
 answer was, — I submit to the power of the parliament 
 in the present visitation so far as I may with a safe con- 
 science, and without perjuiy. His reason for the last 
 salvo was, because he had taken the oaths of allegiance 
 and supremacy a little before, at his admission; which 
 he was — according to the character of the good man, 
 that he fears an oath, — very jealous of doing anything to 
 contradict or infringe; this hath since made him sometimes 
 signify some dislike of that practice of administring oaths 
 to such as were scarce past childhood, who could hardly 
 be supposed to take them with judgment, as oaths should 
 be taken. However, this answer of )iis satisfied ; and, 
 by the favour of the Earl of Pembroke, he was continued 
 in his student's place. But great alterations were made 
 in that, as well as in other colleges, very much to the 
 hinderance and discouragement of young scholars, who 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 43 
 
 came thither to get learning, not to judge of the rights 
 of government. Dr. Samuel Fell, the Dean, was removed, 
 and Dr. Edward Reynolds, afterwards Bishop of Norwich, 
 was put in his room. Dr. Hammond and all the Canons, 
 except Dr. Wall, were displaced, and Mr. Wilkinson, Mr. 
 Pococke, and others, of the parliament's friends, were 
 preferred to their places. His thoughts of this in the 
 reflection long after, was, that mUder methods might 
 have done better, and would have been a firmer establish- 
 ment to the new interest ; but, considering that many of 
 those who were put out (being in expectation of a sudden 
 change, which came not many years after) were exasper- 
 ating LQ their carriage towards the visitors ; and that the 
 parliament, who at this time rode masters, had many of 
 their own ft-iends ready for university-preferments, 
 '^xford having been from the beginning a ganison for the 
 . A\g) and these they were concerned to oblige, it was 
 not strange if they took such strict methods. Yet no- 
 thing being required but a bare submission, which might 
 be interpreted but as crying quarter, he thought withal, 
 that it could not be said the terms were hard, especially, 
 saith he, if compared with those of another nature im- 
 posed since. 
 
 Among other student-masters, Mr. Underwood, his 
 Tutor, was removed, which he often bewailed as a loss to 
 him, for he was a good scholar, and one that made it his 
 business to look after his pupUs, who were verv* likely, 
 by the blessing of Grod, to have profited under his con- 
 duct. But, upon the removal of 3Ir. Underwood, he and 
 some others were turned over to 3Ir. Finmore, who was 
 then in &vour with that interest which was uppermost, 
 
44 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and was afterwards Prebendary of Chester ; a person, as 
 he notes, able enough, but not willing to employ his 
 abilities for the good of those that were committed to his 
 chai-ge ; towards whom he had little more than the name 
 of a tutor. This he lamented as his infeUcity at his first 
 setting out. But it pleased God to give him an interest 
 in the affections of a young man, an under-graduate then, 
 but two or three years his senior from Westminster, one 
 Mr. Richard Bryan, who took him to be his chamber- 
 fellow, while he continued at Oxford, read to him, over- 
 looked his studies, and directed him in them. Of this 
 gentlemen he makes very honourable mention, as one 
 who was, through God's blessing, an instrument of much 
 good to him. Mr. John Fell, also, the Dean's son, (after- 
 wards himself Dean of Christ Church, and Bishop of 
 Oxford,) taking pity on him and some others that were 
 neglected, voluntarily read to them for some time ; a 
 kindness of which he ever retained a very gi-ateful sense, 
 
 " Here he duly performed the college-exercises, dispu- 
 tations every day, in Term-time ; themes and verses once 
 a week, and declamations when it came to his turn ; in 
 which performances he frequently came off A\'ith very 
 great applause. And many of his manuscripts which 
 remain, show how well he improved his time there." 
 
 Yet it is only justice to the subject of this memoir to 
 remark that he himself looked back on the season of his 
 college studies with no such self-applause. Humility 
 was one of the most prominent graces which he exhibited 
 at every period of his life. He had a lively sense at all 
 times of his own unworthiness ; ever measuring what 
 he had done by the unattainable height of his aspirations, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 45 
 
 or the still loftier standard of God's own pure law. " In 
 some reflections I find under his liand," says his son, 
 "written long after his sojourn at college, wherein he 
 looks back upon his early days, he chargeth it upon 
 himself, that for a good while after he came to the 
 university, though he was known not to be inferior to 
 any of his standing in public exercises, yet he was too 
 much a stranger to hard study, and that he lost a deal of 
 time which might have been better improved. Thus he is 
 pleased to accuse himself of that, which, for aught I ever 
 heard, no one else did, or could accuse him of. But the 
 truth is, in all the secret accounts he kept of himself, he 
 appears to have had a very quick and deep sense of his 
 own failings and infirmities, in the most minute instances; 
 the loss of time, weakness and distractions in holy duties, 
 not improving opportunities of doing good to others, and 
 the like ; lamentably bewailing these imperfections, and 
 charging them upon himself, with as great expressions 
 of shame, sorrow, and self-abhorrence, and crying out as 
 earnestly for pardon and forgiveness in the blood of 
 J esus, as if he had been the greatest of sinners. ' I was,' 
 he writes, ' too much in love with recreation ; a bowling 
 green, I remember, out of town, and a metheglin-house, 
 which I often went to in winter for my morning draught, 
 and it was such a draught as disfitted me for study after, 
 though I cannot say I was ever drunk. These things 
 are now bitter to me, and have been formerly, many a 
 time, in the reflection, and here I record them against 
 myself.' Though he was a man that walked very 
 closely, yet withal he walked very humbly, with God, 
 and lived a life of repentance and self-denial. This 
 
46 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 reminds me of a sermon of his, which one might discern 
 came from the heart, on that scripture, 0 wretched man 
 that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this 
 death ! A strange complaint, saith he, to come from the 
 mouth of one who had learned in every state to be con- 
 tent. Had I been to have given my thoughts, said he, 
 concerning Paul, I should have said, 0 blessed man that 
 thou art, that hast been in the third heaven, a great 
 apostle, a spiritual father to thousands, &c., and yet a 
 wretched man all this while, in his own account and 
 esteem. He never complains thus of the bonds and 
 afflictions that did abide him, the prisons that were 
 frequent, the stripes above measure ; but the body of 
 death ; that is, the body of sin, that was it he groaned 
 under. 
 
 " But to return. It may not be amiss to set down the 
 causes to which he ascribes his loss of time when he 
 came first to the university. One was, that he was 
 young, too young, and understood not his opportunities, 
 which made him afterwards advise his friends not to 
 thrust their children forth too soon from school to the 
 university, though they may seem ripe, in respect of 
 learning, till they have discretion to manage them- 
 selves. While they are children, what can be expected 
 but that they should mind childish things ? Another 
 was, that, coming from Westminster School, his attain- 
 ments in school-learning were beyond what many had 
 that came from other schools ; so that he was tempted 
 to think there was no need for him to study much, 
 because it was so easy to keep pace with others ; which, 
 said he, was the thing Dr. Caldecot, Chaplain to the Earl 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 47 
 
 of Pembroke, and his great friend, warned liim of at his 
 coming to Oxford. Another was, that there were two 
 sorts of persons, his contemporaries; some of the new 
 stamp, that came in by the visitation, and were divers of 
 them serious, pious young men, but of small ability, 
 compai-atively, for learning, and those for that reason he 
 desired not to have much fellowship with. But there 
 were others that were of the old spirit and way, enemies 
 to the parliament, and the reformation they made ; and 
 these were the better scholars, but generally not the 
 better men. With them, for a wliile, he struck in 
 because of their learning, and conversed most with them ; 
 but he soon found it a snare to him, and that it took him 
 off from the hfe of rehgion and communion with God. 
 But, 'for ever praised be the riches of God's free grace,' 
 saith he, in a narrative of liis younger years, ' that he 
 was pleased still to keep his hold of me ; and not to 
 let me alone when I was running from him, but set 
 his hand again the second time, to snatch me as a brand 
 out of the fire.' " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHITEHALL. 
 
 Towards the close of the year 1648, Henry obtained 
 leave of absence from his college, and went up to Lon- 
 don to spend the Christmas season with his father at 
 
48 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Whitehall. A more memorable epoch has not since 
 transpired, than that in which the young Oxford student 
 set out to revisit the haunts of his childhood. Poor 
 King Charles, driven from every refuge, and deprived of all 
 hope of sanctuary in the land he had so lately ruled 
 with despotic power, had been sculking about from place 
 to place, not daring to seek shelter for two successive 
 nights in the same retreat. Disguised as a groom, and 
 with his hair and beard clipped, he at length fled to the 
 Scots army ; was delivered by them to the parliament 
 leaders; and after he had proved to all that no faith 
 could be rested in " the word of a king," he was at length 
 summoned to Westminster to stand before the tribunal 
 arraigned for his judgment. Removed from one castle to 
 another while his conquerors were determining his fate, 
 and with a succession of jailors, each of whom, in turn, 
 excited new fears in the anxious mind of the captive 
 monarch, he at length rejoiced in finding himself anew 
 in his Palace of Windsor. He was attended by obsequious 
 servants with all the old etiquette of court, to which he 
 had been so long a stranger ; he dined in state, attended 
 by the officials that had been wont to wait around the 
 throne ; and everything seemed to promise that his 
 cares and sufferings were at an end. Suddenly all these 
 favourable symptoms disappeared. The poor King once 
 more felt that those who tended on him were spies and 
 jailors rather than servants, and all the future darkened 
 OR his soul. Yet he was full of his old vain hopes that 
 had so often before defeated all possibility of amicable 
 arrangement with the parliamentary leaders. "I have 
 three more cards to play," exclaimed he at this time, to 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 49 
 
 one of his attendants — the worst of which may give 
 me back everything. Alas ! Charles I. had played his 
 last card ; and thrown it away ! " God is everywhere," 
 said he, when he learned he was to be removed to Lon- 
 don — " God is everywhere, alike in wisdom, power, 
 and goodness;" yet his heart sank within him at the 
 thought. 
 
 Such were the things transpiring in regard to John 
 Henry's royal master, as his son Philip was on his way 
 to join the family circle at Whitehall in that old December 
 of 1648. The hearth scarce burns so bright as was its 
 wont of old. Kings, like the mighty trees of the forest, 
 involve in their fall al 1 that have sheltered in their branches 
 or sought covert under their shadow. John Henry con- 
 tinued during the whole war to occupy his old house. 
 Barges came to the orchard-stairs with unwonted guests, 
 and the deserted coui-ts of the palace were darkened with 
 strange shadows, as their footsteps awoke the long-silent 
 echoes. The old orchard-keeper was not likely to excite 
 suspicion, or be deemed worthy of revenge ; though he 
 was the old servitor of royality, and mourned the im- 
 prisonment of the fanatic Laud. His religious opinions, 
 moreover, were happily uncourtly, notwithstanding his 
 staunch loyalty, and so he lived on there, while all 
 others, old companions and fellow-servitors, were long 
 gone. But the profits of his place had all vanished. A 
 grudging fare from some rare visitor to the palace, with 
 such hoardings as the economy of better times may have 
 laid up, were all that sufficed for the family's wants. 
 Doubtless the honest Welshman sometimes thought, 
 in these hard times, of the old home far among the 
 
50 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 mountains of Glamorganshire, and of the solitaiy 
 groat, that, with his father's blessing, was all the 
 capital he had to trade upon as he went forth into the 
 world. 
 
 But now all is stir and movement once more in White- 
 hall palace. Seven years had elapsed since that memor- 
 able 10th of January, 1642, in which Charles quited the 
 Palace of Whitehall, mortified, deserted, and burning for 
 revenge ; while London city was ringing with the shouts 
 of triumphant citizens ; and trainbands, journeymen, 
 apprentices, and watermen, were busy in preparation for 
 the triumphal return, on the morrow, of the five mem- 
 bers to Westminster. What an era had that six years 
 been ! It seemed as if six centuries had intervened. 
 He left an outwitted, overmatched, but still despotic 
 king, with a people still ready to have acknowledged his 
 poorest concessions with gratitude ; he returned a solitary, 
 vanquished, helpless, captive. One sees the thoughts of 
 the dethroned monarch, even in his simple inquiry for 
 his old servant, Mr. John Henry, and his exclamation, 
 " Art thou yet alive ?" To him these few years seemed an 
 age. He was surprised that even one familiar face could 
 be found amid these altered scenes. Nor was the sur- 
 prise unreasonable. He was not only an old, but also 
 a faithful servant, the sole untarnished memorial of ear- 
 lier, happier years. 
 
 On the 20th of January, towards noon, the high court 
 constituted for the trial of Charles L, King of England, 
 assembled in the Painted Chamber at Westminster, and 
 the King was brought for the first time to face his 
 judges. He was conveyed through the Palace of White- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 61 
 
 hall to the old orchard-stair. When last young Henry 
 stood there, reverently to doff his hat, and bend his knee 
 to royalty, he was a thoughtless boy some eleven years 
 of age, the merry playmate of the young princes Charles 
 and James. Now he is a grave student, a lad of nearly 
 eighteen years of age, with his own deep earnest thoughts 
 on the great movements he is witnessing. His son, 
 long afterwards writing of this period, thus refers to the 
 last reverence paid by his old grandfather to his royal 
 master : — " He continued, during all the war time, in his 
 house at Whitehall, though the profits of his places ceased. 
 The King, passing by his door, under a guard, to take 
 water, when he was going to Westminster, to that which 
 they called his trial, inquired for his old servant, Mr. 
 .John Henry, who was ready to pay his due respects to 
 him, and prayed God to bless his Majesty, and to deliver 
 him out of the hands of his enemies ; for which the 
 guard had like to have been rough upon him." 
 
 The public events that followed this are well known. 
 The King was condemned as "a tyi-ant, traitor, and 
 murderer," by whose abuse of his high office innocent 
 blood had been shed like water. We need not discuss 
 here whether the Commons of England were justified in 
 thus arraigning their sovereign before such a tribunal. 
 With the fact only we need deal. He is condemned to 
 death. The Palace of Whitehall has become his 
 prison, while young Philip Henry is passing his holidays 
 there. One circumstance transpiring in these last hours 
 of Charles I., on the 29th of Januaiy, the day after doom 
 had been pronounced in Westminster Hall, tells so 
 keenly of loving hearts and human affections amid these 
 
52 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 stem deeds of retribution, that it may fitly find place 
 among these records of youthful yeai-s. The following is 
 the touching scene enacting there — the last parting with 
 a beloved parent — the last tie to earth breaking — and 
 then the great bitterness of death. 
 
 " After morning prayer, the King produced a box, con- 
 taining broken crosses of the order of St. George and of 
 the garter: 'You see,' he said to Bishop Juxon, 'all 
 the wealth now in my power to give my two children.' 
 The children were then brought to him ; on seeing her 
 father, the princess EHzabeth, twelve years old, burst 
 into tears ; the Duke of Gloucester, who was only eight, 
 wept also when he saw his sister weeping ; Charles took 
 them upon his knees, divided his jewels between them, 
 consoled his daughter, gave her advice as to the books 
 she was to read to strengthen herself against Popery, 
 charged her to tell her brothers that he had forgiven his 
 enemies, her mother that in thought he had ever been 
 with fier. and that to the last hour he loved her as dearly 
 as on their marriage day ; then turning towards the 
 little Duke : ' My dear heart,' he said, ' they will soon 
 cut off thy father's head.' The child looked at him 
 fixedly and earnestly : ' Mark, child, what I say ; they 
 will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee king ; but 
 mark what I say, thou must not be king so long as thy 
 brothers Charles and James live, but they will cut off 
 thy brothers' heads if they can catch them ; and thine 
 too they will cut off at last ! Therefore I charge thee 
 do not be made a king by them.' ' I will be torn 
 in pieces first !' replied the child with great emotion, 
 Charles fervently kissed him, put him do^vn, kissed his 
 
THE RET. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 63 
 
 daughter, blessed them both, and called upon God to 
 bless them ; then suddenly rising : ' Have them taken 
 away,' he said to Juxon ; the children sobbed aloud ; 
 the King, standing with his head pressed against the 
 window, tried to suppress his tears ; the door opened, 
 the children were going out, Charles ran from the window, 
 took them again in his arms, blessed them once more, 
 and at last tearing himself from their caresses, fell 
 upon his knees and began to pray with the Bishop 
 and Herbert, the only witnesses of this deeply painful 
 scene." 
 
 Already the sounds of axe and hammer announce that 
 the scaffold is preparing for the last act of this great 
 tragedy. The morrow — the 30th of January, 1648, is 
 the day appointed for execution. All London is 
 astir. It is incredible to most men that such a thing 
 can be. Not even all these yeare of civil strife have 
 discrowned the King, or robbed him of the divinity that 
 to the popular mind did then hedge in the sovereign. It 
 was in truth, perhaps, the most daring act man ever 
 tried, this beheading of a king. With calm dignity, and 
 stern unyielding rigour, these Englishmen of the seven- 
 teenth century did it ; and the world learned, astonished, 
 that kings are, after all, but men. 
 
 Philip Henry mingled in the vast crowd that thronged 
 in front of Whitehall Palace ; and witnessed the final act 
 that closed the career of Charles L, and delivered Eng- 
 land for a time from the Stuarts' rule. His son thus 
 speaks of the scene, as he remembered his father's narra- 
 tion of it. " There he was, January 30, when the King 
 was beheaded, and with a very sad heart saw that tragical 
 
54 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 blow given. Two things he used to relate, that he 
 took notice of himself that day, which I know not 
 if any of the historians mention. One was, that at 
 the instant when the blow was given, there was such 
 a dismal universal groan among the thousands of people 
 that were within sight of it, as it were with one consent, 
 such as he never heard before, and desired he might never 
 hear the like again, nor see such a cause for it. The 
 other was, that immediately after the stroke was struck, 
 there was, according to order, one troop marching from 
 Charing Crosfe towards King Street, and another from 
 King Street towards Charing Cross, purposely to disperse 
 and scatter the people, and to divert the dismal thoughts 
 with which they could not but be filled, by driving them 
 to shift every one for his own safety. On all occasions 
 he testified his abhorrence of this unparalleled action, 
 which he always said was a thing that could not be jus- 
 tified, and yet he said he saw not how it could be called 
 a national sin ; for, as the King urged upon his trial, it 
 was certain that not one man of ten in the kingdom did 
 consent to it ; nor could it be called the sin of the long 
 parliament, for the greatest part of them were im- 
 prisoned while the thing was in agitation, and kept 
 imder force, and scarce twenty-seven of the forty that 
 were left to carry the name of a parliament, did give 
 their vote for it ; — a fact which the Commissioners for 
 the trying of the King's Judges, in the year 1660, (some 
 of whom had been themselves members of the long par- 
 liament,) urged again and again, in answer to that plea 
 which the prisoners stood so much upon, that what they 
 did was by authority of the parliament. But it is mani- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 56 
 
 feet it was done by a prevailing party in the amiy, who, 
 as he used to express it, having beaten their ploughshares 
 into swords, could not so easily beat theii* swords into 
 ploughshares again, having fought more for victory and do- 
 minion than for peace and truth ; but how far these men 
 were acted on and influenced by another sort of people 
 behind the curtain, the world is not altogether ignorant. 
 For some years after Charles II. came in, Philip Henry ob- 
 served the yearly day of humiliation for this sin, desiring 
 ■fliat God would not lay the guilt of blood to the charge 
 of the nation. But, afterwards, finding to what purposes 
 it was generally observed, and improved even to the re- 
 j^oach and condemnation, not only of the innocent, but 
 of some of the excellent ones of the land, and noting that 
 there is no precedent in Scripture of keeping annual days 
 of humiliation for particular sins ; especially after the 
 immediate judgment is at an end; he took no further 
 notice of it. But in his diary he adds this tender re- 
 mark, according to the spirit he was of, ' Yet good men, 
 no doubt, may observe it to the Lord.' Thus he judged 
 not, and why then should he be judged V A day of hu- 
 miliation, indeed, wherein a nation humbles itself like the 
 Ninevites of old, asking of one another in their deep peni- 
 tence, " Who can tell if God will turn and repent, and 
 turn away from his fierce anger, that we perish not ? " 
 such a day might well be looked upon with sympathy by 
 fttie who, in his childhood, had eaten of the King's bread, 
 and partaken of his fe,vour. But the humiliation of re- 
 storation cavaliers and a restoration court, wherein, — 
 forgetful of their own vice and foul licentiousness, witli 
 all their own sins unrepented of, — they assumed an atti- 
 
56 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 tude of humility and words of penitence, deploring before 
 God that England should have had men who dared to 
 assert her liberty against a despot's will, — that was not a 
 humiliation such as he could join in, who himself re- 
 noimced all worldly aavan cages, rather than comply with 
 the requirements of eniorced conformity. Yet the sym- 
 pathies of the good man were with those who mourned 
 the execution of tho King, and remembered the bloody 
 scaffold at Whitehall. In his own private diary the fol- 
 lowing entries attest that his feelings were as strong as 
 those of the most thorough-going cavalier of Charles's 
 court. "1671. Jan. 30. Brings to remembrance the 
 horrid murder of the late King. Deliver the nation from 
 blood-guiltiness, 0 God !" " 1673. Jan. 30. We re- 
 membered this day the death of Charles I. with grief, 
 and prayer, — that God would please to forgive it. — Exod. 
 XX. 5. — visiting the iniquity.'''' 
 
 We can conceive him turning from the polhi*,ed offer- 
 ings that such proud-hearted penitents as Charles's cour- 
 tiers were offering to God ; and, opening his Bible, read- 
 ing the soul-stirring words of Isaiah, which we too may 
 read with profit. Give ear unto the law of our God, 
 ye people . . . When ye come to appeur before me, 
 who hath required this at your hand, to tread my courts 1 
 Bring no more vain oblations ; incense is an abomination 
 unto me : the new-moons and sabbaths, the calling of 
 assemblies, I cannot away with ; it is iniquity, even the 
 solemn meeting. Your new-moons and your appointed 
 feasts my soul hateth : they are a trouble unto me ; I 
 am weary to bear them. And when ye spread forth your 
 hands, I will hide mine eyes from you ; yea, when ye 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 67 
 
 make many prayers, I will not hear : your hands are full 
 of blood. 
 
 " Wash you, make you clean ; put away the evil of 
 your doings from before mine eyes ; cease to do evil ; 
 learn to do well ; seek judgment ; relieve the oppressed ; 
 judge the fatherless ; plead for the widow. Come now, 
 and let us reason together, saith the Lord : Though your 
 sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though 
 they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If ye be 
 willing and obedient, ye shall cat the good of the land : 
 But if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the 
 sword : for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it." 
 
 It was the custom of the men of that age to apply 
 these old Hebrew prophecies to the events of their own 
 time. They were mighty events, and the sublime lan- 
 guage of prophecy seemed to them often to shadow forth 
 thoughts such as better suited these momentous trans- 
 I actions than any words of their owa. To us who look 
 back on the proud courtiers of the restoration era, and the 
 dark schemes of tho succeeding reign ; with the final 
 banishment of that doomed i-ace of the Stuarts from the 
 throne they had abused to tyrany, oppression, and blood, 
 — seems it not as if we too could read in these old words 
 of the Hebrew prophet, the warning to the men of Eng- 
 land, — the threatenings, the judgments, and the final 
 doom to her princes ! "Weighed w^ere they in the balance, 
 and found wanting ! Romance still strives, with some 
 success, to add a fictitious interest to their memory ; but 
 the severe judgment of truth, which treasures the me- 
 mory of these sons of Magdalen Rochdale, as the seed of 
 the righteous, who have won their place among Eng- 
 
58 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 0 
 
 land's worthies, pronounces the doom of the Stuarts as a 
 degenerate race, the ignoble scions of an ancient and Tgir- 
 tuous line of kings. We wander, however, beguiled by 
 the reflections of Philip Henry's pious biographer, to an- 
 ticipate the events that marked that seventeenth century 
 in which his noble coarse was run. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD. 
 
 Philip Henry returned to his college at Oxford, and 
 resumed his former course of studies. His friend and 
 chamber-fellow, Richard Bryan, and he, doubtless, had 
 many a grave discussion on the events witnessed by him 
 at Westminster. He and others who had not had the 
 opportunity of seeing the deed that struck such awe 
 and terror to the farthest corner of England, would 
 have a thousand questions to put to one who had been a 
 resident at Whitehall while the King was there ; had 
 doffed his cap to him as he stepped into his barge at 
 the orchard- stairs, on his way to the judgment-bar of 
 Westminster Hall ; and had stood amid the vast crowd 
 around the Banquet Hall of Whitehall Palace, and with 
 a sad heart saw the axe descend, and the masked execu- 
 tioner hold up the decollated head, and pronounce aloud 
 " This is the head of a traitor to which the multitude 
 responded by one dismal, universal groan. 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 59 
 
 Time, however, which helps the constant stream to 
 deepen its channel, soon dries up the pools it may have 
 left on the banks. Youthful impressions, however serious, 
 soon yield to the more exciting occupations of the mo- 
 ment ; and to the young scholar of Christ Church, all 
 the threatening of the political horizon probably seemed 
 insignificant, compared with the anticipated honours of 
 the university. Philip Henry w^as a diligent student — 
 as his acquirements in later life amply proved ; though 
 he speaks thus modestly of his own application, when 
 reverting to the subject in one of the entries of his diary : 
 " What must needs be done in college-exercise, for 
 disputations every day in Term-time, for themes and 
 verses once a week, ^nd for declamations, when it came 
 to my turn, I did as others of my standing, and some- 
 times had praise for it. But as for that which we call 
 I hard study, giving myself to reading, late and early, and 
 I digesting what I read, by daily serious review, I was too 
 , much a stranger to it." The testimony of his son in- 
 forms us, that his appearances in the frequent examina- 
 tions to which the students were subjected, often won 
 for him very great applause. 
 
 He continued several years at college ; and the best 
 evidence of the use he made of his advantages is to be 
 found in the successive honours which rewarded his high 
 literaiy attainments. " In the year 1650-51," says his 
 biographer, " he took his Bachelor of Arts degree, and he 
 records the goodness of God in raising him up friends, 
 
 I who helped him out in the expenses. Such kindnesses 
 have a peculiar sweetness in them to a good man, who sees 
 and receives them as from God, and the tokens of his love. 
 
60 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 He would often mention with thankfulness to God, 
 what great helps and advantages he had then in the 
 university, not only for learning, but for religion and 
 piety. Serious godliness was in reputation, and besides 
 the public opportunities thej'^ had, many of the scholars 
 used to meet together for prayer and Christian conference, 
 to the great confirming of one another's hearts in the 
 fear and love of God, and the preparing of them for the 
 service of the church in their generation. I have heard 
 him speak of the prudent method they took then about 
 the university sermons on the Lord's day in the after- 
 noon, which used to be preached by the fellows of col- 
 leges in their course ; but that being found not so much for 
 edification. Dr. Owen and Dr. Goodwin performed that 
 service alternately, and the young masters that were wont 
 to preach it, had a lecture on Tuesday appointed them. 
 
 " In December, 1652, he took hi. degree of Master of 
 Arts, and in January following preached his fii-st sermon 
 at South Hinksey, in Oxfordshire, on John viii. 34. 
 * Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin.' On 
 this occasion he notes in his diary what was the breath- 
 ing of his heart towards God : The Lord make use of 
 me as an instrument of his glory and his church's good, 
 in this high and holy calling. 
 
 " His great parts and improvement, notwithstanding 
 his modesty and extraordinary humility, had made him so 
 well known in the university, that in the following act, in 
 July 1653, he was chosen out ofall the masters of that year, 
 to be junior of the act, that is, to answer the philosophy 
 questions in Vesperiis, which he did with very great ap- 
 plause ; especially for the very witty and ingenious ora- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 61 
 
 tions which he made to the university upon that occa- 
 sion. His questions were : 1, An licitum sit camibus 
 vesci ? Aff. 2. An institutio academiarum sit utilis in 
 republica ? Aff. 3. An ingenium pendeat ab humoribus 
 corporis ? Aff. At the act in 1654, lie was chosen Ma- 
 gister Replicans, and answered the philosophy questions 
 in comitiis, with a like applause. ' 
 
 " Dr. Owen, who was then Vice- Chancellor, spoke Avitli 
 great commendation of these performances of Mr. Henry s 
 to some in the university afterwards, who never knew 
 him otherwise than by report ; and I have heard a wor- 
 thy divine who was somewhat his junior in the university, 
 and there a perfect stranger to him, say how much he 
 admired these exercises, and loved him for them. Yet 
 he much more admired, when he afterwards became ac- 
 quainted with him in the country, that so curious and 
 polite an orator should become so profitable and power- 
 ful a preacher, and so readily lay aside the enticing words 
 of man's wisdom, which were so easy to him. 
 
 " There is a copy of Latin verses of his in print, among 
 the poems which the university of Oxford published upon 
 the peace concluded with Holland, in the year 1654, 
 which show him to be no less a poet than an orator. 
 
 " He noted it of some pious young men, that before 
 they removed from the university into the country, they 
 kept a day of fasting and humiliation for the sins they 
 had been guilty of in that place and state. And in the 
 i visits he made afterwards to the university, he inserts 
 I into his book, as no doubt God did into his, a tear dropt 
 over my university sins " — a note on which his more re- 
 cent biogi-apher, Sir J. B. Williams, remarks : " May not 
 
02 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Sterne have had in view this sentence when he penned 
 the well-known passage : ' The accusing spirit which 
 flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as 
 he gave it in ; and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it 
 down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out 
 for ever.' " 
 
 But while we thus note the progress of the young 
 student of Christ Church, we must return once more to 
 the old chambers in Whitehall Palace, where the happy 
 years of childhood and early youth had been passed. 
 There all old ties were for ever broken, long ere the 
 modest student had won his last honours at Oxford. His 
 father had stinggled on against increasing difficulties, un- 
 till that dread 30th of January, with its dark scaffold, 
 and executioners, its axe and block, its chamber of 
 death, and maimed rites to a murdered king — murdered 
 as he believed, in his heart. Then all hope sunk within 
 him. He drooped and pined away, like the faithful 
 spaniel, at liis master's grave. " He lived," says his 
 grandson, " and died a courtier, a hearty mourner for 
 his royal master King Charles I., whom he did not 
 long survive." In December, 165^, John Henry 
 heard from his son that he had won his degree of 
 Master of Arts : in the February following, Philip learned 
 that his father was no more. He was only in his forty- 
 third year, in the vigour of manhood. After a life of 
 many mercies, and some sore trials, his task was done. 
 While he bore the burden and heat of the day, his sun 
 went down at noon, and the good man was home, and 
 at his rest. Thus toucliingiy does his son record the 
 bereavement that left him an orphan, dependent on the 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 63 
 
 kindness of the friends his own modest worth had raised 
 up for him at Oxford. 
 
 " He had left his native country and his father's house 
 very young, unprovided for by his relations, hut it pleased 
 God to bless his ingenuity and industry with a consider- 
 able income afterwards, which enabled him to live com- 
 fortably himself, to bring up his children well, and to be 
 kind to many of his relations ; but public events mak- 
 ing against him at his latter end, when he died, he left 
 little behind him for his children, but God graciously 
 took care of them." 
 
 The reader will bear in remembrance in this, as in 
 similar dates throughout the work, that the year then 
 began, according to the " old style," in March ; the 
 English nation not having as yet adopted the Gregorian 
 calender, although it had been in use in Scotland, as in 
 all Roman Catholic countries, long before. According to 
 modem reckoning the 28th of February, 1652, corres- 
 ponds with the 10th of March, lb'53. On that day 
 Philip Henry was left an orphan, to struggle as best he 
 might, against the troubles that environed him and his 
 young sisters. Foi-tunately he was already sufficiently 
 advanced in his studies at college to be placed beyond 
 fear of any interniption or loss in acquu'ing that which 
 is far better than a fortune to the diligent student. His 
 period of pupilage was drawing to a close. He was now 
 to enter on new scenes and important duties, for which 
 he had even higher qualifications than all the honours 
 and preferments of a college could bestow. 
 
64 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES Of 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PROBATION AT EMERAL CALL 
 
 It is worthy of notice, in tracing the career of this 
 eminent Nonconformist divine, that in whatever degree 
 his opinions on church polity, and the union of ecclesi- 
 astical establishments with the civil power, may have 
 been changed in after-life, it w^as as a Presbyterian that 
 he devoted himself to study for holy orders, and as a 
 Presbyterian minister that he was ordained. ■ It has 
 been already abundantly shown in the opinions he in- 
 variably expressed in reference to"^ the trial of King 
 Charles I. and the Protectorate government that suc- 
 ceeded his execution, that he had no sympathy with the 
 political movements of the Independent party. In this 
 he was doubtless chiefly influenced by the peculiar 
 circumstances of his birth and education. It was 
 scarcely possible that the gentle and retiring student 
 who had been born and brought up in Wliitehall palace, 
 — the dependant of the court, and the humble playmate 
 of the princes who afterwards succeeded to the throne, 
 — should be otherwise tlian a royalist. That the child 
 whose early recollections were of the condescending 
 favours of Laud, and perhaps his first pocket-money 
 the new silver he received from the imprisoned Pri- 
 mate, should afterwards become eminent as a Puritan 
 divine and a Nonconformist confessor, may much more 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 65 
 
 surprise us. Although we have already seen him preach- 
 ing his first sermon at South Hinksey, in Oxfordshire, 
 he had not yet been admitted by ordination into the 
 ministerial office ; he was only what is styled in Pres- 
 byterian Scotland a probationer, his degree of Master of 
 Arts being then equivalent to the license of the presbytery 
 by which a candidate for holy orders is declared fit to 
 undertake the ministerial charge of a congregation. 
 He was not, however, suffered to remain long in the 
 luxurious enjojTnent of such literary ease as an Oxford 
 scholarship afforded. lie was selected as one peculiarly 
 fit for the office of tutor and domestic chaplain in the 
 family of John Puleston, Esquire, one of the judges of 
 the Court of Common Pleas, and the principal family in 
 the parish of Worthenbury, Flintshire. It was no doubt 
 deemed a very desirable appointment for the Oxford 
 scholar, "for which very honourable encouragement 
 was promised," though one is inclined to smile at the 
 letter from the Judge's lady to her cousin at Oxford, who 
 had selected the chaplain and tutor at her desire. She 
 remarks : — " I rely so much on your choice of the gen- 
 tleman proposed, that there needs no further trouble;" 
 and then, after the discussion of various details, she 
 adds, " I have delivered the beaier £5 for the gentleman, 
 in part of the first quarter. What the charge of the 
 journey takes out of it I will supply at the quarter's 
 end, when I pay the rest, to make out £l5. I have 
 sent a horse and a footman to wait on him hither." 
 
 But his son has furnished us both with a minute ac- 
 count of the place, and of the circumstances which led 
 to this choice of Henry as the person to go to the family 
 
 B 
 
66 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 of the Pulestons of Emeral Hall, at Worthenbury ; a 
 choice which exercised so important an influence on his 
 whole fiitui-e career : — " Worthenburj^ is a little town 
 by Dee side, in that Hundred of Flintshire which is 
 separated some miles from the rest of the county, and 
 known by the name of English Mailors, because though 
 it is reputed in Wales, as pertaining to Flintshire, yet in 
 language and customs it is wholly English, and lies mostly 
 between Cheshire and Shropshire. Worthenbury was of 
 old a parochial chapel, belonging to the rectory of Bangor, 
 but was separated from it in the year 1658, by the trus- 
 tees for uniting and dividing parishes, and was made a 
 parish of itself. But what was then done being vacated 
 by the King's coming in, it then came to be in statu quo, 
 and continued an appurtenant to Bangor, till, in the 
 second year of the reign of King William and Queen Marj-^, 
 it was again by act of parliament separated, and made 
 independent of Bangor. That was the only act which 
 passed the rdyal assent with the act of recognition, at the 
 beginning of the second parliament of this reign, Sir 
 John Trevor, the Speaker, being father-in-law to Sir Roger 
 Puleston, the patron. The principal family in Worthen- 
 bury parish, is that of the Pulestons of Emeral. The 
 head of the family was then John Puleston, Serjeant at 
 Law, one of the Judges of the Common Pleas. 
 
 " This was the family to which Mr. Henry came from 
 Christ Church, after he had completed his Master's de- 
 gree, in 1653; ordered into that remote, and unto him 
 unknown, corner of the country, by that overruling Pro- 
 vidence which determineth the times before appointed, 
 and the bounds of our habitation. 
 
THE REV. PDILIP HENRY. 
 
 67 
 
 "The Judge's lady was a person of more than ordinary 
 parts and wisdom, in piety inferior to few, but in learning 
 superior to most of her sex, of which I could give in- 
 stances from what I find among Mr. Henry's papers, par- 
 ticularly an elegy she made upon the death of the femous 
 Selden, who was her great friend. 
 
 " This was the lady whose agency first brought Mr. 
 Henry into tliis country. She wrote to her friend, Mr. 
 Francis Palmer, student of Christ Church, desiring him 
 to recommend to her a young man to take the oversight 
 of her sons, some of whom were now ready for the uni- 
 versity, and to preach at Worthenbury on the Lord's 
 days, for which a very honourable encouragement was 
 promised. Mr. Palmer proposed it to his friend Mr. 
 Henry, who was willing for one half-year to imdertake 
 it, provided it might be required of him to preach but 
 once on the Lord's day, and that some other supply might 
 be got for the other part of the day, he being now but 
 twenty-two years of age, and newly entered upon that 
 great work. Provided also, that he should be engaged 
 but for half a year, as he little intended to break oflF so 
 soon from an academical life, which he so much delighted 
 in. But prefen-ing usefulness before his own private 
 satisfaction, he was willing to make trial for a while in 
 the country, as one that sought not his own things, but 
 the things of Jesus Christ, to whose service in the work 
 of the ministry he had devoted himself, bending his 
 studies wholly that way. 
 
 " In the latter part of his time at Oxford, as one grown 
 weary of that which he used to say he found little to his 
 purpose, he employed his time mostly in searching the 
 
es 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Scriptures, and collecting useful Scripture observations, 
 which he made very familiar to him, and with which he 
 was thoroughly furnished for this good work. He got a 
 Bible interleaved, in whicli he wrote short notes upon 
 texts of Scripture as they occurred. He would often say, 
 — I read other books, that I may be tlie better able to un- 
 derstand the Scripture. 
 
 " Though so great a master in the eloquence of Cicero, 
 yet he preferred far before it that of Apollos, who was an 
 eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures. 
 
 " He bid very fair at that time for university prefer- 
 ment, sucli was the reputation he had, and his interest 
 with Dr. Owen ; but the salvation of souls was that which 
 his heart was set upon, and to this lie postponed all his 
 other interests. 
 
 " In September, 1653, he came down to Emeral, from 
 whence a messenger was sent on purpose to Oxford to 
 conduct him thither. Long after, when it had pleased 
 God to settle him in that country, and to build him up 
 into a family, he would often reflect upon his coming into 
 it first ; what a stranger he then was, and how far it was 
 from his thoughts ever to have made his home in those 
 parts ; and, passing over the brook that parts between 
 Flintshire and Shropshire, would sometimes very affec- 
 tionately use that word of Jacob's — ' With my staff I 
 passed over this Jordan, and now I am become two 
 bands.* 
 
 At Emeral he prayed in the family, was tutor to the 
 young gentlemen, and preached once a day at Worthen- 
 bury, help being procured for the other part of the day, 
 according to his request, out of fear to take the whole 
 
THE EEV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 69 
 
 work upon him, being so young. But it soon happened, 
 that one Lord's day the supply that was expected failed ; 
 and so he was necessitated, rather than there should be a 
 ▼acancy, to preach twice, in which he found the promise 
 80 well fulfilled, ' As thy day is, so shall thy strength 
 be,' that, to the great satisfaction of his fiiends there, 
 from thenceforward he waved looking out for other help 
 than what came from above, and would sometimes speak 
 of this as an instance, that we do not know what we can 
 do, till we liave tried. 
 
 " Here he applied himself to a plain and practical way 
 of preaching, as one truly concerned for the souls of those 
 he spoke to. He would say sometimes, — We study how 
 to speak that you may understand us ; and, I never think 
 I can speak plain enough when I am speaking about souls 
 and their salvation. I have heard him say, he thought 
 it did him good, that for the first half-year of his being 
 at Worthenbury, he had few or no books with him, which 
 engaged him in studying sermons to a closer search of the 
 Scripture and his own heart. What success his labours 
 had in that parish, whicli, before he came to it, was ac- 
 counted one of the most loose and profane places in all 
 the country, may be gathered fi-om a letter of the Lady 
 Puleston to him, at the end of the first half-year after 
 his coming to Emeral, when he was uncertain of his con- 
 tinuance there, and inclinable to return and settle at 
 Christ Church. 
 
 "'Dear Mr. Henry; 
 
 " ' The indisposition that my sadness hath 
 bred, hindered my answering your last expressions. As 
 
70 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 to begging that one thing for you, God forbid, as Samuel 
 said, that ' I should cease to pray.' This I am sure, that 
 having wanted hitherto a good minister of the word 
 among us, I have oft by prayer, and some tears, above 
 five years besought God for such a one as yourself ; which, 
 having obtained, I cannot yet despair, seeing he hath 
 given us the good means, but he may also give us the 
 good end. And this I find, that your audience is in- 
 creased three for one in the parish, though in winter, 
 more than formerly in summer ; and five for one out of 
 other places. And I have neither heard of their being in 
 the ale-house on our Lord's day, nor ball-playing that 
 day, which, before you came, was frequent, except the 
 day that young Ch. preached. I think I can name four 
 or five in the parish, that of formal Christians are becom- 
 ing or become real. It is a good sign, most are loath to 
 part with you ; and you have done more good in this half- 
 year, than I have discerned these eighteen years. But, 
 however, whether they will hear, or whether they will 
 forbear, you have delivered your own soul.' 
 
 " It is easy to imagine what an encouragement it was 
 to him thus at his first setting out to see of the travaU of 
 his soul, and what an inducement it was to him not to 
 leave those among whom God had thus owned him. 
 However, he returned to Oxford in the spring. The 
 Lady Puleston soon after came to him thither, with her 
 five sons, of whom she placed the two eldest under his 
 charge in the college. In the following vacation he went 
 to London to visit his relations ; and there, in October, he 
 received a letter from Judge Puleston, with a very solemn 
 and aflfectionate request, subscribed by the parishioners 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 71 
 
 of Worthenburj', earnestly desiring his settlement among 
 them as their minister, which he was persuaded to com- 
 ply with, having fixed to himself that good rule of his 
 Mfe. to follow Providence, and not to force it. So, in the 
 Iter following he came down again, and settled with 
 m. He retained his scholarship in Christ Church for 
 o or three years, attending the service of it once a year; 
 hut disposing of most of the profit of it for the use of poor 
 >cholars there." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OR DIN ATI ON. 
 
 A PERIOD of probation, as we have seen, had enabled the 
 roxmg Oxford scholar to overcome his modest diffidence 
 md fear, while it taught the people among whom he la- 
 >oured to appreciate the w^oi-th.and to desire the services 
 if so faithful and zealous a servant of truth. All 
 bstacies were therefore removed to his entering on the 
 hai:ge of a parish, and being ordained to the sacred office 
 f the ministry. " The tithe of Worthenbury belonged to 
 lie Emeral family, paying some rent to the rector of 
 langor. This tithe Judge Puleston was willing to give, 
 Lear of that charge, to the minister of Worthenbury for 
 irer. But such was the peculiar and extraordinaiy 
 
 Fdness he had for Mr. Henry, upon the experience of 
 
72 
 
 LITE AND TIMES OF 
 
 bearing date October 6, 1655, between himself and Mr. 
 Henry, ' in consideration of his being pleased to under- 
 take the cure of souls, and to preach and teach, and to 
 perform other duties of divine service in the parish church 
 of Worthenbury, (so the deed runs.) to give, grant, and 
 confirm for himself and his heii-s, unto the said Philip 
 Henry, the yearly rent of one hundred pounds, charged 
 upon all his messuages, lands, and tenements in the se- 
 veral counties of Flint, Denbigh, and Chester, to be paid 
 quarterly, until such times as the said Philip Hem-y shall 
 be promoted or preferred to some other spiritual or eccle- 
 siastical living or preferment, with power of distress in 
 case of non-payment.' A hundred a-year was more 
 than Worthenbury tithes were worth at that time ; and 
 the manner of the gift freed the maintenance from much of 
 that loss and incumbrance which commonly attends the 
 gathering of tithe. 
 
 "About this period," says Sir J. B. Williams, "judg- 
 ing from the handwriting of the foUovi-ing letter, ad- 
 dressed to a friend at Oxford, (no doubt Dr. Owen, who 
 was then Dean of Christ Church, and Vice-Chancellor,) 
 he received a summons to that city, which led him to 
 add the postscript. But as the letter fm-nishes an illus- 
 tration of Mr. Henry's character as a young minister, it 
 may be here fitly introduced : 
 
 " Most Honoured Sir, 
 
 " Being importuned to improve my interest 
 fbr the supply of a vacant curacy in these parts, I make 
 bold to acqaint you with the state of it, that, if you know 
 of any, either in your own college or elsewhere, that is 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 73 
 
 willing to accept of it, you would please to be instni- 
 mental in sending him hither. 
 
 The place is called Holt ; it is in Denbighshire/but I think 
 a man may throw a stone out of it into Cheshire ; it is dis- 
 tant from Wrexham about three miles, and from Chester 
 five ; the situation of it for convenience is beyond ex- 
 ception ; there are but few such hereabouts, only the 
 salarj', I fear, may appear somewhat too small, to come 
 so far for. It is as yet, upon certainty, but <£45 per 
 annum ; but it is propable, may be made, ere long, £65 
 paid in money, and no deductions out of it for taxes ; for 
 the place of his abode, if he be a single man, the Major 
 of the to^vn, a very godly person, hath promised it in his 
 own house till sucji time as care be taken to provide for 
 him othen\ise. For his qualifications. Sir, he must in 
 a judgment of charity, be one that fears God, in regard 
 he comes not to a place that never heard of Christ, (as 
 many such there be in Wales,) but to a knot of eminent, 
 discerning Christians, scarce the like anj-where here- 
 abouts, among whom there are divers able, indeed, to be 
 themselves teachers of others ; so that, if he himself be 
 one that hath no savour of the things of God, he will.be 
 no way acceptable or useful there. He must, moreover, 
 be either fitted already for the administration of the or- 
 dinances, or in a capacity of being suddenly fitted ; if he 
 make haste hither, he may have an opportunity shortly 
 of being ordained here in Shropshire. 
 
 "Sir. craving your pardon for my boldness in troubling 
 you, I leave the matter with youi-care, and yourself and 
 all your relations and concernments, with our ever good 
 God. — Your servant very much obliged, P. H, 
 
74 
 
 LIFE ANB TIMES OP 
 
 " Sir, since my purpose of wiiting to you about tlie 
 business above mentioned, I have received information 
 from Christ Church, of a summons to appear personally 
 there, before Michaelmas Term ; Avhereupon my request 
 to you is, that by a line or two you would please to ac- 
 quaint me, whether I may not obtain to be dispensed 
 with, in regard of the great distance I am now at from 
 thence, above fourscore miles ; of the unusual unseason- 
 ableness of the ways and weather ; and, which is most of 
 all, my very great indisposedness in point of health. If 
 I may be excused, I would entreat you, Sir, to endeavour 
 it for me ; if not, that you would please to send me word, 
 whether it will not serve if I come sooner, and how long 
 it will be required that I make my stay there. 
 
 " He still continued for some years in the Emeral fa- 
 mily, where he laid out himself veiy much for the 
 spiritual good of all, even of the meanest of the ser- 
 vants, by catechising, repeating the sermons, and personal 
 instruction, and he had very much comfort in the counte- 
 nance and conversation of the Judge and his lady. Yet 
 he complains sometimes in his diary of the snares and 
 temptations that he found in his way, especially because 
 some of the branches of the family were uneasy at his 
 being there, Avhich made him willing to remove to a 
 house of his own. When Judge Puleston perceived 
 this in the year 1657, out of his abundant and con- 
 tinued kindness to him, he, at his own cost and 
 charges, built him a very handsome house in Worthen- 
 bury, and settled it upon him by a lease, bearing date, 
 March 6, 1657, for threescore years, if he should so long 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 76 
 
 eontinue minister at Worthenbury, and not accept of 
 better preferment. 
 
 " Thus was his maintenance settled at Worthenbury. 
 In the year 1659. he was, by a writing of Judge Puleston's, 
 oollated, nominated, and presented, to the church of 
 Worthenbury ; and the powers that then were, having 
 so appointed, he had a confirmation thereof from the 
 commissioners for approbation of public preachers. 
 
 " Some little opposition was made to his settlement at 
 Worthenbury by Mr. Fogg, then rector of Bangor, be- 
 cause he conceived it an intrencliment upon his right to 
 that parish, and thought it might prejudice his re- 
 covering of it by course of law. I only mention this for 
 the sake of the note he hath upon it in his diary, which 
 is this : I do earnestlj'- desire that the J udge may give 
 Mr. Fogg all reasonable satisfaction, that there may be 
 
 |j no appearance of wrong to him, or any other, in this 
 thing. And when Mr. Fogg insisted upon it, that he 
 
 i would have Mr. Henry give it under his hand, that he 
 desired the consent of the said Mr. Fogg to be minister 
 of Worthenbury, he yielded to do it for peace sake ; and 
 from thenceforward there was an intimate and entire 
 friendship between Mr. Fogg and him. 
 
 Being thus settled at Worthenbury, his next care was 
 
 I touching ordination to the work of the ministry, to 
 which he would see his call very clear, before he solemnly 
 
 ! devoted himself to it. And though afterwards in reflec- 
 tion, especially when he was silenced, it was some trouble 
 
 1 to him, that he had so long deferred to be ordained, (and 
 he would often, from the consideration of that, press 
 
 |i those who intended the ministry, not to put it off,) 
 
76 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 yet, as the times then were, there was some reason 
 for it, 
 
 " The nearest presbytery was in the Hundred of Brad- 
 ford Noi-th, in Sliropshire, wherein Mr. Porter of Whit- 
 church was the leading man, of whom Mr. Baxter gives 
 so high a character in his Life, and who was one of those 
 whom he recommended to the Lord Chancellor, as fit to 
 be made a bishop. This class was constituted by ordi- 
 nance of parliament in April, 1647, the members of it 
 then were the aforesaid Mr. Porter, Mr. Boughy of 
 Hodnet, Mr. Houghton of Prees, Mr. Parsons of Wem, 
 and Mr. John Bisby ; and afterwards Mr. Maiden of 
 Newport, Mr. Binney of Ightfield, and Mr. Steel of Han- 
 mer, though in Flintshire, were taken in to them, and 
 acted with them. This class in twelve years' time pub- 
 licly ordained sixty-three ministers. Mr. Henry was 
 very desirous to have been ordained at Worthenbury, in 
 the presence of his people, but the ministers were not 
 willing to set such a precedent. That was one thing 
 which caused delay, so that he was not ordained till 
 September 16, 1657. 
 
 "The manner of his ordination," says his son, "was 
 according to the known directory of the Assembly of 
 Divines, and the common usage of the Presbyterians ; 
 yet, he having left among his papers a particular account 
 of that solemnity, and some of the workings of his soul 
 towards God in it ; it may be of some use, both for in- 
 struction and quickening to ministers, and for the infor- 
 mation of such as are perhaps wholly strangers to such a 
 thing, to give some account of the transaction. 
 
 ** He made addresses to the presbytery, in order to his or- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 77 
 
 dination, July 6, at Frees, when he submitted to trial. In- 
 quiry was made, in the first place, concerning his experience 
 of the work of grace in his heaii; ; in answer to which he 
 gave a reason of thehope that was in him with meekness and 
 fear ; that the Spirit of grace had been dealing with him 
 when he was young, and he hoped, had discovered to him 
 Ibis need of Christ, and had bowed his will in some mea- 
 sure to close with him upon his own terms, &c. His 
 skill in the original languages of the Scripture was then 
 tried ; and he read and construed two verses in the 
 Hebrew Bible, and two in the Greek Testament. He was 
 then examined in logic and natural philosophy ; next in 
 divinity, what authoi-slie had read, and what knowledge 
 he had touching the mediation of Christ, &c. His skill 
 in the Scripture was tried, by propounding to him a diffi- 
 cult text to give his sense of ; a case of conscience was 
 also put to him to be resolved, and an inquiry made into 
 his acquaintance with church history. Lastly, a question 
 was given him to write a thesis upon before next 
 meeting, which was this : Aii providentia Divina exten- 
 dat se ad omnia 1 On this question he exhibited his 
 thesis, August 3, and defended it. Several of the minis- 
 ters opposed, and Mr. Porter moderated. He then pro- 
 duced two certificates, which he left with the register of 
 the class, one from Oxford, subscribed by Dr. "Wilkinson, 
 Br. Langley, &c., the other from the neighbouring 
 ministers, Mr. Steel, Mr. Fogg, &c., both testifying to his 
 conversation, &c. 'The Lord forgive me,' saith he, in 
 his diary, upon this, ' that it hath not been more exem- 
 plary, as it ought, for piety and industry. Amen, Lord 
 in Christ.' The day for ordination was appointed to be 
 
78 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 September 16th, at Frees, of which notice was given at 
 Worthenbury by a paper read in the church, and after- 
 wards afl&xed to the church door the Lord's day before, 
 signifying also, ' that if any one could produce any j ust 
 exceptions against the doctrine or life of the said Mr. 
 Henrj', or any sufficient reason why he might not be or- 
 dained, they should certify the same to the elassis, or the 
 scribe, and it should be heard and considered.' 
 
 " On the day of ordination, there was a very great 
 assembly gatliered together. j>Iy. Poller began the work 
 of the day with prayer, then Mr. Parsons preached on 
 1 Timothy i. 12 : ' I thank Christ Jesus, who hath enabled 
 me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the 
 ministry.' Putting men into the ministiy is the work of 
 Jesus Christ. After sermon, Mr. Parsons, according to the 
 usual method, required of him a confession of his faith." 
 
 In the life of Henry by his son, Ms confession of faith 
 is given at full length, with minute marginal references 
 to the Scriptures on which each article of faith is founded. 
 This made, he was next called upon to answer the 
 questions appointed in the Directory for Ordination. 
 
 " When this was done, Mr. Parsons prayed ; and in 
 prayer he and the rest of the Presbyters, laid their liands 
 upon him, with words to this purpose, ' "Whom we do 
 thus in thy name set apart to the work and office of the 
 ministry.' There were five more, after the like previous 
 examinations and trials, professions and promises, at the 
 same time set apart to the ministry. 
 
 " Then Mr. Maiden, of Newport, closed with an ex- 
 hortation, directed to the newly ordained ministers, in 
 which, saith Mr. Henry in his diary, this word went near 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 79 
 
 my heart. — As the nurse puts the meat first into her own 
 mouth and chews it, and then feeds the child with it, so 
 should ministers do by the word, preach it over before- 
 liand to their own hearts ; it loses none of the virtue 
 thereby, but rather, probably, gains. As that milk 
 nourisheth most wliich comes warm from the breast, so 
 that sermon which comes warm from a waim heart. 
 Lord, quicken me to do thy will in this thing. 
 
 The classis gave him, and the rest, instruments in 
 parchment, certifying this, which it may satisfy the curi- 
 osity of some to read the form of. 
 
 " ' Whereas, Mr. Philip Henry of Worthenbury, in the 
 County of FHnt, Master of Arts, hath addressed himself 
 unto us, authorized by an ordinance of both Houses of 
 Parliament, of the 29tli of August, 1G48, for the ordina- 
 tion of ministers desu-ing to be ordained a Presbyter, for 
 that he is chosen and appointed for the work of the min- 
 istry at Worthenbury, in the County of Flint, as by a 
 certificate now remaining with us, touching that his elec- 
 tion and appointment, appeareth. And he having like- 
 wise exhibited a sufficient testimonial of his diligence and 
 proficiency in his studies, and unblamableness of his life 
 and conversation, he hath been examined according to the 
 rules for examination in the said ordinance expressed ; 
 and thereupon approved, there being no just exception 
 made, nor put in, against his ordination and admission. 
 These may therefore testify to all whom it may concern, 
 that upon the 16th day of September, 1657, we have pro- 
 ceeded solemnly to set him apart for the office of a Pres- 
 byter, and work of the ministry of the gospel, by laying 
 on of our hands with fasting and prayer. By vii-tue 
 
80 
 
 / 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 whereof we do declare liim to be a lawful and sufficiently 
 authorized minister of Jesus Christ. And having good 
 evidence of his lawful and fair calling, not only to the 
 work of the ministry, but to the exercise thereof at the 
 chapel of Worthenbury, in the County of Flint, we do 
 hereby send him thither, and actually admit him to the 
 said charge, to perform all the offices and duties of a 
 faithful pastor there ; exhorting the people, in the name 
 of Jesus Christ, willingly to receive and and acknowledge 
 him as the minister of Christ, and to maintain and en- 
 courage him in the execution of his office, that he may 
 be able to give up such an account to Christ of their obe- 
 dience to his ministry, as may be to his joy, and their 
 everlasting comfort. In witness whereof, we the Pres- 
 byters of the Fourth Class, in the County of Salop, com- 
 monly called Bradford-North Class, have hereunto set our 
 hands, this 16th day of September, in the year of our 
 Lord God, 1657.' 
 
 " I have heard it said, by those who were present at 
 this solemnity, that Mr. Henry did in his countenance, 
 carriage, and expression, discover such an extraordinary 
 seriousness and gravity, and such deep impressions made 
 upon his spirit, as greatly affected the auditory, and even 
 struck an awe upon them. 
 
 Two years after, on the occasion of his being present 
 at an ordination at Whitchurch, he thus writes in his 
 diary : — " This day my ordination covenants were in a 
 special manner renewed, as to diligence in reading, 
 prayer, meditation, faithfulness in preaching, admoni- 
 tion, catechising, sacraments, zeal against error and pro- 
 faneness, care to preserve and promote the unity and 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 81 
 
 purity of the church, notwithstanding opposition and 
 persecution, though to death. Lord, thou hast filled my 
 hands with work, fill my heart with wisdom and gi-ace, 
 that I may discharge my duty to thy glory, and my own 
 salvation, and the salvation of those that hear me. Amen. 
 
 " Let us now see how he applied himself to his work 
 at Worthenbury. The sphere was narrow, too narrow 
 for such a burning and shining light. There were but 
 forty-one communicants in that parish, when he first set 
 up the ordinance of the Lord's Supper ; and they were 
 never doubled. Yet he had such low thoughts of him- 
 self, that he not only never sought for a larger sphere, 
 but would never hearken to any overtures of that kind 
 made to him. And withal, he had such liigh thoughts of 
 his work, and the worth of souls, that he laid out himself 
 with as much diligence and vigour here, as if he had the 
 oversight of the largest and most considerable parish in 
 the country. 
 
 I" The greater number of the parishioners were poor 
 tenants and labouring husbandmen ; but the souls of such, 
 he used to say, are as precious as the souls of the rich, 
 and to be looked after accordingly. His prayer for them 
 was, — ' Lord despise not the day of small things in this 
 ij place, where there is some willingness, but much weak- 
 ness.' And thus he writes upon the Judge's settHng a 
 handsome maintenance upon him, — ' Lord, thou knovvest 
 I seek not theirs but them.' 
 
 "He was in labours more abundant to win souls. Be- 
 sides preaching he expounded the Scriptures in order ; 
 catechised, and explained the catechism. At first he took 
 into the nmnber of his catechumens some that were adult, 
 
 p 
 
82 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 who, he found, wanted instruction ; and when he had 
 taken what pains he thought needful with them, he dis- 
 missed them from further attendance, with commenda- 
 tion of their proficiency, and counsel ' to hold fast the 
 form of sound words ; ' to be watchful against the sins of 
 their age, and to apply themselves to the ordinance of the 
 Lord's Supper, and make ready for it ; afterwards he 
 catecliised none above seventeen or eighteen years of 
 age. 
 
 " He set up a monthly lecture there of two sermon?, 
 one he himself preached, and the other his friend Mr. 
 Ambrose Lewis, of Wrexham, for some years. He also 
 kept up a monthly conference, in private, from house to 
 house, in which he met with the more knowing and judi- 
 cious of the parish ; and they discoursed familiarly to- 
 gether of the things of God, to their mutual edification, 
 according to the example of the apostles, who, though 
 they had the liberty of public places, 3^ et ' taught also 
 from house to house.' That which induced him to set 
 and keep up this exercise as long as he durst, which was 
 till August, 1660, was, that by this means he came better 
 to understand the state of his flock, and so knew the bet- 
 ter how to preach to them, and pray for them, and tliey 
 to pray one for another. If they were in doubt about 
 anything relating to their souls, that was an opportunity 
 of getting satisfaction. It was likewise a means of in- 
 creasing knowledge, and love, and other gi-aces ; and 
 thus it abounded to a good account. 
 
 " He was very industrious in visiting the sick, instruct- 
 ing them, and praying with them ; and in this he would 
 say, he aimed at the good, not only of those that were 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 83 
 
 sick, but also of their friends and relations that were 
 about them. 
 
 " He preached funeral sermons for all that were buried 
 there, rich and poor, old or young, or little children ; for 
 he looked upon it as an opportunity of doing good. He 
 called it, — ' setting in the plough of the word, when the 
 providence had softened and prepared the ground.' He 
 never took money for any ministerial performance, besides 
 his stated salary, for which he thought himself obliged 
 to do his whole duty as a minister. 
 
 " When he first set up the ordinance of the Lord's 
 Supper there, he did it with very great solemnity. After 
 he had endeavoured to instruct them in his public preach- 
 ing, in the nature of that ordinance, he discoursed per- 
 sonally Avitli all that gave up their names to the Lord in 
 !it, of their knowledge, experience, and conversation, ob- 
 iliged them to observe the law of Christ touching brotherly 
 jadmonition in case of scandal, and gave notice to the 
 (congregation who they were that were admitted ; adding 
 this: ' Concerning these, and myself, I have two things 
 to say : 1. As to what is past, we have sinned. If we 
 
 hould sa}'-, we have not, we should deceive ourselves, and 
 truth were not in us; and yet this withal we can say 
 ,and have said it, some of us with tears, — We are grieved 
 that we have sinned. 2. For the time to come we are re- 
 vod by God's grace to walk in new obedience ; and yet 
 jiccing we are not angels, but men and women, compassed 
 ibout with infirmities and temptations, it is possible we 
 may fall ; but if we do, it is our declared resolution to 
 •submit to admonition and censure, according to the mle 
 
 )f the gospel.' And all along he took care so to manage 
 
84 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 his admissions to that ordinance, as that the weak might 
 not be discouraged, and yet the ordinance might not bo 
 profaned. 
 
 " These were but the first instances of his skilfulness 
 in dispensing the mysteries of the kingdom of God. He 
 declined the private administration of the Lord's Supper 
 to sick persons, as judging it not consonant to the rule 
 and intention of the ordinance. He very rarely, if ever, 
 baptized in private ; but would have children brought to 
 the solemn assembly upon the Lord's day, that the par- 
 ent's engagement might have the more witnesses to it, 
 and the child the more prayers put up for it, and that 
 the congregation might be edified. Yet he would say, 
 there was some inconvenience in it too, unless people 
 would agree to put off the feasting part of the solemnity 
 to some other time, which he very much persuaded his 
 friends to do ; observing that Abraham made a great feast 
 the same day that ' Isaac was weaned,' not the same day 
 that he was circumcised. 
 
 " His carriage towards the people of his parish was 
 very exemplary ; condescending to the meanest, and con- 
 versing familiarly with them : bearing with the infirmi- 
 ties of the weak, and becoming all things to all men." 
 
THE RET. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 85 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING. 
 
 The people of Worthcnbury were few in number, and 
 very poor. Notwithstanding the great popularity of 
 Philip Henry as a preacher, and the influence his min- 
 istry had on the whole parish and neighbourhood, we 
 have seen that he never numbered eighty communicants. 
 But he was the fi-iend and counsellor of his people in every 
 trial and diflSculty ; and he grudged no labour that pro- 
 mised to render his services more acceptable among them. 
 The moderate limits of his parochial charge, and the ab- 
 sence of that wealthy and influential class of parishioners 
 whose hospitalities and intrusions — however guarded 
 
 t gainst, — will encroach somewhat on the leisure of the 
 lost conscientious and self-denying minister, no doubt, 
 jhad a share in forming and developing the peculiar char- 
 iicter of the old divine. He had a strong relish for the 
 [luaint antithetical style that characterized the religious 
 ^ |vriters of that age, while he seems to have felt an untir- 
 I ijng aelight in the composition of sermons, for which the 
 \ :imits of his charge secured him frequent leisure. With 
 ill the delight with which a Ben Johnson constructed 
 he curious allegories and impersonations of a Court Mask, 
 V an Inigo J ones heaped together in picturesque com- 
 ination the details of Italian, Gothic, and Grecian art, 
 *hiiip Henrj' delighted to arrange the truths of religion, 
 
86 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 and the discussions of theological investigation, in elabo- 
 rate and ingenious antithesis, set off with all the laboured 
 ornaments of alliteration and punning play upon words. 
 One detects in his well-studied sermons all the skill of an 
 artist employed in the artificial arrangement of their 
 quaint details. Pungent argument, profound divinity, 
 and the keenest controversial theology, are set, as it 
 were, in elaborately chased frame-Avork of the most 
 curious and fantastic design. Few have surpassed Philip 
 Henry in this old-fashioned, and now obsolete art. With 
 what diligent pertinacity does he hunt a simile through 
 every conceivable foi'm, ringing the changes on it with 
 unweai-ying delight, while he illustrates meanwhile the 
 most solemn truths by all this curious complication of 
 thought. Does he speak of Christ as a door ? — as in the 
 twenty-first of his " What Christ is made to Believers, in 
 Forty real Benefits V — heads divide themselves, and sub- 
 divide, till the eye searches for the order of Its si:vth- 
 lys and seventhh/s of the third or fourth doctrinal heads, 
 while these again with help of bracketed numbers, reach, 
 by another and more minute anatomising, a third seventh- 
 ly or eighthly of orderly classification. I. A door is of 
 a fourfold use — to let out, and let in ; to shut out, and shut 
 in. 1. A door is to let those out of the house that are in 
 it ; but (1.) There is the prison-house of a sinful condi- 
 tion, — we are all by nature shut up under lock and key 
 there. (2.) There is the house of bondage under the 
 ceremonial law. (3.) There is the house of correction 
 under afflicting providence. (4.) There is the house of 
 the grave. 2. A door is to let those in that are without. 
 (1.) Christ is the door of the pasture. (2.) He is the 
 
> 
 
 THE REV. PHILIP UENRY. 
 
 87 
 
 door of the presence-cliamber. (3.) He is tlie door into 
 tliG treasury oi- store-house. (4.) He is the door into the 
 school-house, &c., on to (8.) He is the door into glory 
 and happiness. He is the door into heaven. Thus does 
 the divine, with curious ingenuity, exhaust his subject. 
 Christ is a living door, — a low door, — a strait door, — a 
 strong door, — an open door, — the only dooii. 
 
 With still more fanciful trimness of artificiality he 
 furnishes the Christian with an Alphabet of Promises. 
 " What are the Promises ? They are A. Articles of 
 the covenant ; B. Breasts of consolation ; C. Christian's 
 charter;" and so on, down to " W. Wells of salvation; 
 X. 'Xceeding great and precious ; Y. Yea and amen in 
 Christ Jesus; Z. Zion's peculiar!'' Yet with all this 
 truth was never sacrificed to style. It was the mode of 
 dressing reason at the period to suit it to the palates of 
 the listeners. But the truth was there, dressed up in- 
 deed in a fashion strange enough to us, but neither con- 
 ;.led nor disguised. Take for example his comparison 
 : Christ to a piece of penmanship. " He is a plain, easy 
 example. There is a great deal of difference in writing 
 between one hand and another. Some hands are so full 
 of cuts and flourishes, that it is hard for a learner to learn 
 to wTite after them. Others again so plain, and easy, and 
 free from such appurtenances, that there is little diffi- 
 culty in copying them. — Now such a hand was that that 
 Jesiis Christ wrote ; I mean, such a copy, such an ex- 
 ample. The condition he put on was a mean, plain con- 
 dition ; a servant ; not a knight, or a lord, or a prince, 
 Now as his condition was, such his example was. He set 
 a copy for poor people to write after ; the meanest can- 
 
88 
 
 » 
 
 LIFE A>'D TDIE3 OF 
 
 not say, it is out of my reach. Leara of me — What to do ? 
 to make the world, to raise the dead, rebuke the winds 
 and waves ? 2s o : to be meek and lowly ; as here, to 
 wash one another's feet : not to build churches, or erect 
 hospitals ; not to fast forty days and forty nights, not to 
 go barefoot on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, not to wallow 
 naked in the snow, as Saint Fi-ancis.'' &c. 
 
 No simile escapes him. He thus calls into requisition 
 the cherished superstition of the period, to challenge 
 which would then have been to incur the suspicion of 
 disloyalty. " Consider the heaUng that is with Christ, 
 the Sun of righteousness, is the alone healing. There is 
 no other that can cure thee. Whether it be.tme that 
 the king's evil can be cured by the King's touch only, 
 is more than I know ; but I am sure the evil of sin can 
 be cured no other way than by the touch of the King of 
 kings. All other physic and physicians are of no value." 
 
 One more example we shall quote at greater length, 
 in illustration of this curious and homely mode of ex- 
 hibiting divine truth, so characteristic of the age of our 
 best Puritan divines. His text is, " Put ye on the Loi-d 
 Jesus Christ and he accordingly compares Christ to a 
 suit of cloth esj exhausting, vdih ingenious subtlety ever}- 
 idea which his "robe of righteousness " suggests : 
 
 Whcit kind of garment is the Lord Jesus Christ ? It 
 is a great matter, especially wiih. some, what kind of 
 clothes we wear, that they be tight and fashionable, and 
 according to our rank and quality ; rather above it than 
 under it, or below it, or short of it ; and most commonly 
 those that are most curious and concerned about the 
 clothing of their bodies are least curious and concerned 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 89 
 
 what clothes their souls have ; it is to them no matter 
 what rags, what filthy rags they appear in, both before 
 God and man. 
 
 " Behold, I bring yon tidings this day of brave clothes, 
 wliich may be yours, if you will — each of you — for the 
 putting on. And those are the Lord Jesas Christ ; his 
 merit and righteousness to justify you ; his Spirit and 
 grace to sanctify you. What say you ? Will you accept 
 of them, will you" have them, put them on, wear them ? 
 
 " Tell us, fii-st, what are their properties, that should 
 commend them to us ? 
 
 " In general, it is called the best robe. Best indeed ; 
 no other is to he compared with it. Brown bread and 
 the gospel are good fare ; rags and Christ's righteousness 
 are good clothing. It is first in worth and excellency, 
 and first in order of time — though not as to our pereons, 
 yet as to our nature in Adam. 
 
 " 1 . The Lord Jesus Christ is a costly garment ; the dearest 
 and most costly garment that ever was. We may judge 
 of its excellency by its price. Some people are extra- 
 ordinarily profuse about their clothes, and are cautioned 
 against it. Lo, here is a costly robe indeed : not to us 
 that must wear it, (it costs us nothing but the accepting 
 and putting it on,) but to him that made and prepared 
 it ; it cost him dear. Ere the Lord Jesus Christ could 
 be a suit of clothes for thy soul — to justify, sanctify, save 
 thee, he must be made a man. And so he was. He 
 must die the death of the cross. And so he did. Wo 
 read of Joseph's brethren dipping their brother's coat in 
 a goat's blood, and sending it to their father ; but 
 our Joseph dipped the coat that was to be for us in 
 
90 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 his own blood. And doth not this commend it to you 1 
 He clothed himself with the rags of our nature, that he 
 might clothe us with the robe of his grace ; nay, more 
 than that — he was made sin for us, a curse for us, ' that 
 we might be made the righteousness of God in him.' 
 
 " 2. He is a comely garment. There are some persons 
 whose clothes, in the eyes of sober men, are very un- 
 comely ; disfiguring, rather than adorning the body ; 
 discovering, rather than hiding their ^harae. But here 
 is a garment comely indeed, beautiful, and lovely, and 
 glorious ; a garment that makes the soul that hath it on 
 amiable towards Grod : he is pleased with it, and accepts 
 of it. 
 
 "3. He is a large garment. The righteousness of 
 Christ for justification is so. He is able to save to the 
 uttermost. There is in him merit enough to satisfy for 
 all thy sins, to pay all thy debts. He has incense 
 enough to perfume all thy services. Wliat is said of the 
 bed, Isa. xxviii. 20, is true of all the garments — of all 
 our own righteousness — they are too short and too nar- 
 row ; thy nakedness appears through them. 
 
 " 4. He is a lasting garment, nay, everlasting. The 
 Israelites had clothes that lasted forty years, and did not 
 wax old, — that was a great while, Deut. viii. 4. But 
 here is a garment which lasts for ever," — and so the 
 ingenious divine proceeds through farther divisions and 
 subdivisions of like character. 
 
 With all this we find none of that false ingenuity 
 which sacrifices the means to the end. Notwithstand- 
 ing his quaint similes, and curiously involved divisions, 
 we never find in Philip Henry's writings anything like 
 
I THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 91 
 
 the laborious hiding of a later period, when this peculiar 
 vein of style and thought degenerated in the hands of 
 inferior wi-iters into mere verbosity, and shallow pedan- 
 trj'. With Henry it was the peculiarity of his age, 
 characterized by his own devout eaniestness and zeal, 
 and his own intellectual vigour. An eminent living 
 NNTiter — the Rev. James Hamilton — himself skilled in 
 :he use of comparisons and analogies, derived from the 
 stores of a highly cultivated mind, and an exuberant 
 ,, thus remarks of Philip Henry in the life of his 
 — " Even his common conversation shaped itself 
 balanced sentences and proverbial maxims. ' If I 
 lot go to the house of God, I will go to the God of 
 :he house.' ' Forced absence from God's ordinances, 
 nd forced presence with wicked people, is a grievous 
 ^ n to a gracious soul.' ' Solitariness is no sign of 
 anctity. Pest-houses stand alone, and yet are full of 
 nfectious diseases.' ' There are two things we should 
 e^^ are of — That we never be ashamed of the gospel, and 
 / we may never be a shame to it.' There are three 
 :s which if Christians do, they will find themselves 
 ken : — If they look for that in themselves which is 
 had in another, viz. righteousness ; If they look 
 lat in the law which is to be had only in the gospel, 
 rtercy; If they look for that on earth wliich is to 
 id only in heaven, viz. perfection.'' In defiance of 
 . rn criticism, we own a certain kindliness for this 
 . iLLshioned art ; it has a Hebrew look ; it reminds us 
 ' the alphabetic psalms, and the ' six things, yea seven,' 
 lomon. And we believe that it has a deep root in 
 io*e — the love of alliteration and antithesis being. 
 
LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 in another form, the love of rhyme and metre. We 
 never see in an ancient garden a box-tree peacock, or a 
 hemisphere of holly, but we feel a certain pleasure ; we 
 cannot help admiring the obvious industry, and we feel 
 that they must have been a genial and gay-hearted people 
 who taught their evergi-eens to ramp like lions, or flap 
 their wings like crowing cocks. And, more especially we 
 feel, that but for this grotesque beginning we might 
 never have arrived at the landscape gardens of later 
 times. Though they were the mere memorials of what 
 amused our fathers, we could tolerate these conceits in 
 cypress and yew, but when we recollect that they were 
 the first attempts at the picturesque, and the commence- 
 ment of modem elegance, we view them with a deeper 
 interest. Doubtless this alliterative and antistrophic 
 style was eventually overdone, and like the Dutch gar- 
 dener, who locked up his apprentice in the one summer- 
 house because he had secured a thief in the other, the 
 later Puritans sacrificed everything to verbal jingles and 
 acrostic symmetry. But Philip Henry was a scholar, 
 and a man of vigorous intellect, and, in the sense most 
 signal, a man of God. Translated into the tamest 
 language, his sayings would still be weighty ; but when 
 we reflect that to his peasant hearers their original terse- 
 ness answered all the purpose of an artificial memory, we 
 not only forgive but admire it. Many a good thought 
 has perished because it was not portable, and many a 
 good sermon is forgotten because it is not memorable ; 
 but like seeds with wings, the sayings of Philip Henry 
 have floated far and near, and like seeds with hooked 
 prickles, his sermons stuck to his most careless hearers. 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 93 
 
 His tenacious words took root, and it was his happiness 
 to see not only scriptural intelligence, but fervent and 
 consistent piety spreading amongst his parishioners." 
 
 Philip Henry soon won the favour of both minister 
 and people all around his little parish ; and the genial 
 kindliness of his heart no less than his great learning 
 and talents endeared him to all he became thus known 
 to. He was frequently called on to occupy the pulpits 
 of neighbouring ministers, nor was he less ready to avail 
 himself of opportunities of hearing others, such as the 
 frequent preaching of week-day lectures there afforded. 
 Of his attendance on these he has preserved a faithful 
 record in his diary, and we detect in some of the notes 
 he records of the sermons of favourite preachers among 
 his contemporaries, the same studied and elaborate an- 
 tithesis which he knew himself how well to handle. It 
 is indeed the thoughts of others recoined in his o\xti mint, 
 and it may be that they owe their peculiar stamp to his 
 own die. He thus remarks in his notes : — " 1657. Oct. 
 5. At Welsh Hampton, fi'om Col. iii. 8. The doctrine 
 was — It is the gi-eat duty of Christians to put off anger. 
 It unfits for duty. A littfe jogging puts a clock or watch 
 out of frame, so a little passion the heart. A man can- 
 not wrestle with God, and wrangle with his neighbour 
 at the same time. Short sins often cost us long and sad 
 sorrows. An angry man is like one in a crowd w^ho hath 
 a sore boU, every one thrusts him. and troubles him. 
 ' With the froward thou wilt show thyself froward ;' — a 
 dreadful Scripture to a peevish froward man. Those who 
 are too merry when pleased, are commonly too angry 
 when crossed. Blessed Lord, subdue this lust in my 
 
94 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 heart ! I am very weak there. Turn the stream of my 
 anger against self and sin." 
 
 His son thus refers to his intercourse ^Yith his minis- 
 terial brethren, and to the docility with which he sought 
 to glean from every opportunity fresh nutrition ; and 
 like the bee, to pass no blossom untried, which, though 
 the meanest weed, might perchance add to his store one 
 drop of honey. " He had not been long at Worthenbury 
 but he began to be taken notice of by the neighbouring 
 ministers, as likely to be a considerable man. Though 
 his extraordinary modesty and humility, which even in 
 his youth he was remarkable for, made him sit down with 
 silence in the lowest room, and to say, as Elihu, ' Days 
 shall speak ;' yet his eminent gifts and graces could not 
 long be hid ; the ointment of the right hand will betray 
 itself, and a person of his merits could not but meet with 
 those quickly who said, 'Friend, go up higher.' He 
 was often called upon to preach the week-day lectures, 
 which were set up plentifully, and diligently attended 
 upon in those parts, and his labours were generally very 
 acceptable and successful. The voxpopuli fastened upon 
 him the epithet of Heavenly Henry, by which title he 
 was commonly knoAvn all the country over ; and his 
 advice was sought for by many neighbouring ministers 
 and Christians, for he was one of those that found favour 
 and good understanding in the sight of God and man. 
 He was noted at his first setting out, (as I have been 
 told by one who was then intimately acquainted with 
 him, and with his character and conversation,) for three 
 things : 1. Great piety and devotion, and a mighty sa- 
 vour of godliness in all his converse. 2. Great industry 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 95 
 
 in the pursuit of useful knowledge ; he was particularly 
 observed to be very inquisitive when he was among the 
 aged and intelligent, hearing them, and asking them 
 questions ; a good example to young men, especially 
 young ministers. 3. Great self-denial, self-diffiJence, 
 and self-abasement ; this eminent humility put a lustre 
 upon all his other gi-aces. This character of him reminds 
 me of a passage I have sometimes heard him tell, as a 
 check to the forwardness and confidence of young men : 
 Once at a meeting of ministers, a question of moment 
 was started, to be debated among them ; upon the first 
 proposal of it, a confident young man shoots his bolt* 
 presently. ' Truly,' saith he, ' I hold it so.' ' You hold. 
 Sir,' replied a gi-ave minister ; 'it becomes you to hold 
 your peace.' 
 
 Besides his frequent preaching of lectures in his 
 neighbourhood, he was a constant and diligent attendant 
 upon those within his reach, as a hearer ; and not only 
 wrote the sermons he heard, but afterwards recorded in 
 his diary, what in each sermon reached his heart, affected 
 liim, and did him good ; adding some pious ejaculations, 
 the breathings of his heart when he meditated upon, 
 and prayed over these sermons. 
 
 " What a wonderful degree of piety and humility does 
 it evince, for one of so great acquaintance with the things 
 of God to write, — This I learned out of such a sermon, and 
 This was the truth I made to myself out of another 
 sermon ! And, indeed, something out of every sermon. 
 His diligent improvement of the v/ord preached contri- 
 buted, more than any one thing, as a means to his great 
 
 * An allusion to the old proverb," A rash man's bolt is soon shot.'' 
 
96 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 attainments in knowledge and gi-ace. He would say 
 sometimes; that one great use of week-day lectures was, 
 that it gave ministers an opportunity of hearing one 
 another preach, by which they are likely to profit, when 
 they hear not as masters but as scholars ; not as censors, 
 but as learners. 
 
 " His great friend, and companion, and fellow-labourtr 
 in the work of the Lord, was the worthy Mr. Richard 
 Steel, minister of Hanmer, one of the next parishes to 
 Worthenbury, whose praise is in the churches of Christ, 
 for his excellent and\iseful treatises, ' The Husbandman's 
 Calling,' ' An Antidote against Distractions,' and several 
 others. Ho was Mr. Henry's alter idem, the man of his 
 counsel ; with him he joined frequently at Hanmer and 
 elsewhere in Christian conference, and in days of humili- 
 ation and prayer ; besides their meetings with other 
 ministers at public lectures ; after which it was usual for 
 them to spend some time among themselves in set dis- 
 putations in Latin. This was the work that in those 
 days was carried on among ministers, who made it their 
 business, as iron sharpens iron, to provoke one another 
 to love and good works. 
 
 " In the beginning of his days he often laboured under 
 bodily distempers ; it was feared that he was in a con- 
 sumption ; and some blamed him for taking so much 
 pains in his ministerial work, suggesting to him, Master, 
 spare thyself. One of his friends told him, he lighted 
 up all his pound of candles together, and that he could 
 not hold out long at that rate ; and wished him to be a 
 better husband of his strength. But he often reflected 
 upon it with comfort afterwards, tliat he was not influ- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 97 
 
 enced by such suggestions. The more we do, the more 
 we may do, so he would sometimes say, in the service of 
 God. When his work Avas sometimes more than ordi- 
 nary, and bore hard upon liim, lie thus appealed to God ; 
 — Thou knowest, Lord, how well contented I am to spend 
 and be spent in thy service ; and if the outward man de- 
 cay, 0 let the inward man be renewed ! Upon the re- 
 turns of his indisposition, he expresseth a great concern 
 how to get spiritual good by it — to come out of the fur- 
 nace and leave some dross behind ; for it is a great loss 
 to lose an affliction. He mentions it as that which he 
 hoped did him good, that he was ready to look upon 
 every return of distemper as a summons to the grave ; 
 thus he learned to die daily. I find, saith he, my earthly 
 tabernacle tottering, and when it is taken down,. I shall 
 have a building in heaven that shall never fail. Blessed 
 be God the Father, and my Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
 good Spirit of grace. Even so, Amen. This was both 
 his strength and his song, under his bodily infirmities." 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HIS PARISH DUTIES. 
 
 Op the labours of Philip Henrj'- in his study, the pre- 
 ceding chapter will convey some idea to the reader. In 
 that he grudged no exertion and spared no pains. Never- 
 theless, his labours among his people were no less dili- 
 gent. ' In season and out of season,' he was to be found 
 
 Q 
 
98 
 
 LIFS AND TIMES OF 
 
 amongst them, " reproving, rebuking, exhorting, with all 
 long-suffering and patience ;" ever mingling the gentle- 
 ness of a parent with the sternness of pastoral severity 
 in rebuking open sins. " He was," says his son, " ex- 
 ceeding tender of giving offence, or occasion of grief, to 
 anybody, minding liimself in his diary upon such occa- 
 sions, that the wisdom that is from above is ' pure, and 
 peaceable, and gentle,' &c. Yet he plainly and faithfully 
 reproved what he saw amiss in any, and would not suffer 
 sin upon them ; mourning also for that which he could 
 not mend. There were some untractable people in the 
 parish, who sometimes caused grief to him, and exer- 
 cised his boldness and zeal in reproving. Once hearing 
 of a meiTy meeting at an alehouse, on a Saturday night, 
 he went himself and broke it up, and scattered them. 
 At another time, he publicly witnessed against a frolic 
 of some vain people, that on a Saturday night came to 
 the church with a fiddler before them, and dressed it up 
 with flowers and garlands, making it, as he told them, 
 more like a play-house ; and was this their preparation 
 for the Lord's day, and the duties of it ? &c. He minded 
 them of the words of Ecclesiastes : ' Rejoice, 0 young man, 
 
 in thy youth, but know thou' . 
 
 " Many out of the neighbouring parishes attended upon 
 his ministry, and some came from far, though sometimes 
 he signified his dislike of their so doing, so far was he 
 from glorying in it. But they who had ' spiritual senses 
 exercised to discern things that differ,' would attend upon 
 that ministrj^ which they found to be most edifying." 
 
 Of his unbounded charity, both in acts of benevolence 
 and in Christian forbearance, numerous instances are pre- 
 
THE RET. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 99 
 
 sensed. His whole life indeed was characterized l.y a con- 
 sistent display of Christian charity and love. In his in- 
 tercourse with Christians, all differences disappeared from 
 his mind, if he saw evidence that they were one with 
 him as brethren in Christ. He seems, indeed, to have 
 proved a blessing to his own parish, and a bond of union 
 among all -s'^tliin the circle of his influence. 
 
 " While he was at Worthenbury he constantly laid by 
 the tenth of his income for the poor, which he carefully 
 and faithfully disposed of, in the liberal things which he 
 devised, especially for the teaching of poor children. And 
 he would recommend it as a good rule to lay by for 
 charity in some proportion, according as the circum- 
 stances are, and then it will be the easier to lay out in 
 chanty. We shall be the more apt to seek for opportunities 
 of doing good w^hen we have money lying by us, of which 
 we have said, — This is not our own, but the poor's. To 
 encourage himself and others to works of charity, he 
 would say, — He is no fool who parts with that which he 
 cannot keep, when he is sure to be recompensed with 
 that which he cannot lose. 
 
 " In the year 1658, the ministers of that neighbourhood 
 began to enlarge their correspondence with the ministers 
 of North Wales. They had several meetings at Ruthin and 
 other places that year, for the settling of a coiTespondence, 
 and the promoting of unity and love, and goodunderstand- 
 ingamongthemselves, by entering into an Association, like 
 those of Worcestershire and Cumberland, tow^hich,astheir 
 pattern, they did refer themselves, those two having been 
 published. They appointed particular Associations ; and, 
 notwithstanding the differences of apprehension that 
 
100 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 were among them, (some being in their judgments epis- 
 copal, others congregational, and others classical or pres- 
 byterian,) they agreed to lay aside the thoughts of mat- 
 ters of variance, and to give to each other the right hand 
 of fellowship ; that with one shoulder, and with one 
 consent they might study each in his place, to pro- 
 mote the common interests of Christ's kingdojn, and 
 the common salvation of precious souls. He observed that 
 this year, after the death of Oliver Cromwell, there was 
 generally, throughout the nation, a great change in the 
 temper of God's people, and a mighty tendency towards 
 peace and unity, as if they were, by consent, weary of 
 their long clasliings ; which, in his diary, he expresseth 
 his gi-eat rejoicing in, and his hopes that the time was at 
 hand, when ' Judali should no longer vex Ephraim, nor 
 Ephraim envj' Judah, neither should they learn war any 
 more.' And though these hopes were soon disappointed by 
 the change of the scene, yet he would often speak of the 
 experience of that and the following year in those parts, 
 as a specimen of what may yet be expected, and, there- 
 fore, in faith pi-ayed for, when the Spirit shall be poured 
 out upon us from on high. From his experience he like- 
 wise gathered this observation, — that it is not so much 
 om- difference of opinion that does us the mischief, (for 
 w^e may as soon expect all the clocks in the town to 
 strike together, as to see all good people of a mind in 
 everything on this side heaven ;) but the mismanage- 
 ment of that difference. 
 
 In the Association of ministers it was referred 
 to Mr. Henry to draw up that part of their agreement 
 which concerned the worship of God, which task he per- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 101 
 
 formed to their satisfaction. His preface t(^ what he 
 drew up begins thus : — ' Though the main of our desii-es 
 and endeavours be after unity in the greater things of 
 God ; yet we judge uniformity in the circumstances of 
 worship, a thing not to be altogether neglected by us, 
 not only in regard of that influence which external visible 
 order hath upon the beauty and comeliness of the 
 churches of Christ, but also as it hath a direct tendency 
 to the strengthening of our hands in ministerial services, 
 and withal to the removing of those prejudices which 
 many people have conceived, even against religion and 
 woi-ship itself. We bless God, from our very souls, for 
 that whereunto we have already attained ; and yet we 
 hope some further thing may be done, in reference to 
 our closer walking by the same rule, and minding the 
 same things. The word of God is the rule which we de- 
 sire and resolve to walk by in the administration of or- 
 dinances ; and for those things wherein the word is silent, 
 we think we may, and ought to, have recourse to Chris- 
 tian prudence, and the practice of the reformed churches, 
 agreeing with the general rules of the word : and, there- 
 fore, we have had, as we think we ought, in our present 
 agreement, a special eye to the Directory,' &c. 
 
 " These agreements of theu*s were the more likely to be 
 for good, that here, as in Worcestershire, when they were 
 in agitation, the ministers set apart a day of fasting and 
 prayer among themselves, to bewail ministerial neglects, 
 and to seek God for direction and success in their minis- 
 terial work. They met sometimes for this purpose at 
 Mr. Henry's house at Worthenbury. 
 " One remark may not improperly be inserted here : once 
 
, 102 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 at a meeting of the ministers, Philip Henry being desired 
 to subscribe a certificate concerning one whom he had 
 not sufficient acquaintance with ; he refused, giving this 
 reason — that he preferred the peace of his conscience 
 before the friendship of all the men in the world." 
 
 Lady Puleston, a woman of devout piety, and an ear- 
 nest zeal for the cause of truth and godliness, which 
 manifested itself by every practical effort within the 
 sphere of her influence, was the friend who had forwarded 
 Henry in every good work he entered on. It was his 
 misfortune, however, very early to lose this excellent 
 and tried friend. She died on 29th of September, 1658, 
 on which occasion Philip Henry remarks, " She was the 
 best friend I had on earth, but my Friend in heaven is still 
 where he was, and he will never leave me nor forsake 
 me." It was a change in many respects influencing his 
 future prospects as well as his present comfort ; though 
 he still enjoyed the fi-iendship and favour of Judge Pules- 
 ton. But tlijs was also ver}'' speedily brought to a close. 
 His son remarks, in refeiring to the death of Lady Pules- 
 ton : " He preached her funeral sermon from Isaiah iii. 
 last verse ; ' Cease from man, whose breath is in his 
 nostrils.' He noted this expression of hers not long 
 before she died : ' My soul leansio Jesus Christ ; lean to 
 me, sweet Saviour.' About this time he writes, — A dark 
 cloud is over my concernments in this family, but my 
 desire is, that, whatever becomes of me and my interest, 
 the interest of Christ may still be kept on foot in this 
 place. Amen, so be it. But he adds soon after, that saying 
 of Athanasius, which he was used often to quote and take 
 comfort from : ' It is a little cloud and will soon blow over.' 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 108 
 
 " About a year after, September 5, 1659, Ji^ge Pules- 
 ton died, and all Mr. Henrj^'s interest in the Emeral 
 family was buried in his grave. He preached the J udge's 
 funeral sermon, from Nehemiah xiii. 14. ' Wipe not out 
 my good deeds that I have done for the house of my God, 
 and for the offices thereof the design of which sermon 
 was not to applaud his deceased friend. I find not a 
 word in the sennon to that purpose. But he took occa- 
 sion from the instance of so great a benefactor to the min- 
 istry as the Judge was, to show that deeds done for the 
 house of God, and the offices thereof, are good deeds : 
 and to press people, according as their ability and oppor- 
 tunity was, to follow his example. 
 
 A passage I find in that semion which ought 
 to be recorded ; that it had been for several years the 
 practice of a worthy gentleman in the neighbouring 
 county, in renewing his leases, instead of making it a 
 condition that his tenants should keep a hawk or a dog 
 for him, to oblige them to keep a Bible in their own 
 houses for themselves, and to bring up their children 
 to loam to read, and to be catechised. This, saith he, 
 would be no charge to you, and it might oblige them 
 to do that which otherwise they would neglect. — 
 Some v/ished, saith he, in his diary, that I had chosen 
 some other subject for that sermon, but I approved my- 
 self to God, and if I please men I am not the sei-vant of 
 Christ. 
 
 The personal affronts he received from some of the 
 branches of the Emeral family at that tune, need not be 
 mentioned, though the exemplary patience with which 
 he bore them, ought not to be forgotten. 
 
104 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " In March, 1658-9, he was very much solicited to leave 
 Worthenbury, and to accept of the Vicarage of Wrexham, 
 which was a place he had botli a great interest in, and a 
 great kindness for, but he could not see his call clear to leave 
 Worthenbury, so he declined it. X^e same year he had 
 an offer made him of a considerable living near London ; 
 but he was not of them that are given to change, nor did 
 he consult with flesh and blood, nor seek great things to 
 himself." 
 
 Philip Henry, like most other zealous parish ministers 
 in England at that period, had some diflSculty in dealing 
 with the more violent enthusiasts and fanatics whom the 
 excitement of that period of change called into being. 
 The intolerant restraints under which the people groaned, 
 while Laud was the supreme dictator of liberty of con- 
 science, checked every expression of opinion, however ex- 
 cellent or harmless. It was only the natural consequence 
 of this unjust restraint that men were the more inclined 
 to adopt extreme opinions, and when freedom of thought 
 and free expression of opinion had been won, Fifth-mon- 
 axchy men, Levellers, Muggeltonians, and many other 
 extreme sects, advocated .the most extravagant tenets, 
 generally with very little tolerance for those of others. 
 Among these extravagant enthusiasts must unquestion- 
 ably be ranked the early Quakers, a sect resembling in 
 little else than name, the societies so designated in our 
 own day. In reference to their proceedings, Henry's 
 Biographer remarks : "That year [165ft] he had some 
 disturbance from the Quakers, who were set on by some 
 others wishing ill to his ministry. They challenged him 
 to dispute with them ; and that which he was to prove 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 105 
 
 against them, was, that the God he worshipped was not 
 an idol ; that John Baddely (a blacksmith in Malpas, and 
 the ringleader of the Quakers in that country) was not 
 infallible, nor without sin ; that baptism with water and 
 the Lord's supper are gospel-ordinances ; that the Scrip- 
 tures are the word of God ; and that Jesus Christ will 
 come to judge the world at the last day. But he never 
 had any public disputes with them, nor so much distur- 
 bance from them in public worship, as some other min- 
 isters had elsewhere about that time." 
 
 Other matters of a more pleasing nature, which occu- 
 pied the thoughts of Henrj^ tliis year, and led to an im- 
 I portant change in his Ufe, are detailed in the next chap- 
 ! ter; but, meanwhile, the following account which Mathew 
 I Henry gives of his father's ministerial labours, and es- 
 I pecially of the preparation of his sermons, cannot fail to 
 interest the reader. " There are two things further which 
 I tliink it may be of use to give some account of. 1. Of 
 the com-se of his ministry at Woi-thenburj" ; and, 2. of 
 the state of his soul, and the communion he had with God, 
 in those years. 
 
 " As to the subj ects he preached upon, he did not use 
 to dwell long upon a text. — Better one. sermon upon many 
 texts, viz., many scriptures opened and applied, than 
 many sermons upon one text. To that purpose he would 
 sometimes speak. 
 
 " He used to preach in a fixed method, and link his 
 subjects in a sort of chain. He adapted his method and 
 style to the capacity of his hearers, fetching his simili- 
 tudes for illustration from those things which were familiar 
 to them. He did not shoot the aiTOw of the word over 
 
106 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 their heads in high notions, or the flourishes of affected 
 rhetoric^ nor under their feet, by blunt and homely expres- 
 sions, as many do under pretence of plainness, but to their 
 hearts, in close and lively appKcations. His deUvery was 
 very graceful and agreeable, far from being either noisy and 
 precipitate on the one hand, or dull and slow on the other. 
 
 " He wrote the notes of his sermons pretty large for the 
 most part, and always very legible. But even when he 
 had put his last hand to them, he commonly left many 
 imperfect hints, which gave room for enlargement in 
 preaching, wherein he had a great felicity. And he would 
 often advise ministers not to tie themselves too strictly 
 to their notes, but, having well digested the matter before, 
 to allow themselves a liberty of expression, such as a 
 man's affections, if they be well raised, will be apt to fur- 
 nish him with. 
 
 " He kept his sermon-notes in very neat and exact 
 order ; sermons in course, according to the order of the 
 subject ; and occasional sermons according to the scrip- 
 ture-order of the texts ; so that he could readily turn to 
 any of them. And yet, though afterwards he was re- 
 moved to a place far enough dista,nt from any of that 
 auditory, yet, though some have desired it, he seldom 
 preached any of those hundreds of sermons which he had 
 preached at Worthenbmy; no, not when he preached 
 never so privately, but to the last he studied new sermons, 
 and \^Tote them as elaborately as ever ; for he thought a 
 sermon best preached when it was newly meditated. Nay, 
 if sometimes he had occasion to preach upon the same text, 
 yet he would make and write the sennon anew ; and he 
 never offered that to God which cost him nothing. 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 107 
 
 " When he went to Oxford and preached there before 
 the university in Christ Church, as he did several times, 
 his labours were not only verj^ acceptable, but successful 
 too ; particularly one sermon v>-hich he preached there, 
 on Proverbs xiv. 9. ' Fools make a mock at sin ; ' for 
 which sermon a young Master of Arts came to his cham- 
 ber aftersvards to return him thanks, and to acknowledge 
 the good impressions which divine grace, by that sermon, 
 had made upon his soul, which he hoped he should never 
 forget. 
 
 In his diary he frequently records the state of his 
 '.ind in studying and preaching. Sometimes blessing 
 1 for signal help vouchsafed, and owning him the Lord 
 1 of all his enlai-gements ; at other times, complaining 
 ^Teat deadness and straitness. — It is a wonder, saith 
 that I can speak of eternal things with so Httle sense 
 he reality of them. Lord, strengthen that which re- 
 'ns, which is ready to die ! And he once writes thus, 
 :i a studying day, — i forgot explicitly and expressly, 
 -en I began to crave help from God, and the chariot- 
 n heels drove accordingly. Lord, forgive my omissioiLS, 
 J keep me in the way of duty." 
 
108 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 MARRIAGE. 
 
 When Philip Henry settled at Worthenbury, in a 
 house of his own, which the generous care of his kind 
 patron, Judge Puleston, had provided for him, he found 
 the necessity for that domestic oversight which he had 
 hitherto had provided for him under other roofs. At 
 Emeral, under the pious care of the excellent Lady 
 Puleston, he had enjoyed every comfort and attention 
 that friendship and esteem could suggest. When he left 
 his situation in her household, to enter on his duties as 
 minister of the parish, the Judge had a suitable residence 
 erected for his exclusive use ; and to this he removed in 
 February, 1658-9, with one of his sisters as his house- 
 keeper. 
 
 He had not been long settled there, however, when he 
 was attracted by the virtues of Katharine, the sole 
 daughter and heir of Mr. Daniel Matthews of Broad 
 Oak ; and soon after he sought her in marriage. There 
 were some difficulties interposed by her father ; who had 
 probably looked forward to a higher match for his 
 daughter, and demurred at her giving her hand to a 
 parish minister, whose means were no less moderate than 
 his ambition. The young lady, however, had no such 
 objections, and so, notwithstanding the father's opposi- 
 tion, it proved after a time no insurmountable difficulty 
 to overrule the reasons urged for its prevention. " Pro- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 109 
 
 vidence," says his son, " having brought him into a house 
 of his own, soon after provided him a help-meet for him. 
 After long agitation, and some discouragement and op- 
 position from the father, he married Katharine, the only- 
 daughter and heir of Mr. Daniel Matthews, of Broad 
 Oak, in the toA^NTiship of Iscoyd, in Flintshire, but in the 
 parish of Malpas, which is in Cheshire, and about two 
 miles distant from Whitchurch, a considerable market- 
 towTi in Shropshire. Mr. Matthews was a gentleman of 
 a very competent estate : such an one as King James 
 the First used to say was the happiest lot of all others, 
 which set a man below the office of a justice of peace, 
 and above that of a petty constable. This was his only 
 child : very fair and honourable overtures had been 
 made for her disposal ; but it pleased God so to order 
 events, and to overrule the spirits of those concerned, 
 tliat she was reserved to be a blessing to this good man, 
 in things pertaining both to life and godliness. 
 
 " The following anecdote has been handed down in the 
 family. After Mr. Philip Henry, who came to Worthen- 
 bury a stranger, had been in the country for some time, 
 his attachment to Miss Matthews, afterwards liis wife, 
 became manifest ; and it was mutual. Among the other 
 objections urged by her friends against the connexion 
 was this, — that, although Mr. Heniy was a gentleman, 
 and a scholar, and an excellent preacher, he was quite a 
 stmnger, and they did not even know w^here he came 
 from. 'True,' replied Miss Matthews, 'but I know 
 where he is going, and I should like to go with him.' 
 
 " The opposition of Mr. Matthews to the marriage, 
 and the imposing of inequitable terms, with a view of 
 
110 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 breaking off the acquaintance, was, for a considerable 
 time, a severe trial to the faith and patience of Mr. 
 Henry. In this affair the influence of the holy religion 
 he professed was exceedingly conspicuous ; nor will the 
 reader disapprove of a momentary interruption of the 
 narrative by the introduction of the following letter from 
 him, which will explain, in some degi-ee, the difficulties 
 he had to encounter : — 
 
 " To Mr. Matthews. 
 
 " Sir, — I have received, by my ft-iend, your answer to 
 what I proposed in my last, concerning your lands at 
 Brunnington, with which I am satisfied. I understand 
 from him, also, that for your other lands which are at 
 Broad Oak, your demand is <£800, which sum being, as I 
 am informed, according to the present rate of lands, near 
 their full value, makes it, in effect, no portion, but a 
 purchase. I do therefore hope, Sir, it is but your de- 
 mand, and that room is left for some abatement, so far, 
 at least, that there may be equality, and, withal, that pro- 
 vision may be made for my just security in case your 
 daughter should die without issue. Concerning both 
 which I shall desire the interposure of no other arbitra- 
 tor than your own self, to whom I would refer it. I 
 have had many occasions for laying out monies tliis 
 last year in furnishing my house and other ways ; never- 
 theless I have <£200, or thereabouts, which I am willing 
 to disburse to you for the present, and shall give 3-ou 
 sufficient bond for more to be paid within reasonable 
 time, on the considerations before mentioned. Or, if you 
 please to give your consent that I may match with your 
 
THE BEV. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 daughter. I shall be as willing to dispose of those monies 
 elsewhere to her use, and you may do with your own as 
 you think good. I assure you, Sir, though you will not 
 believe me, the Lord knows, I eye it not, having learned 
 in that estate wherein I am to be content. Sir, I be- 
 seech you, have some respect in this matter, to honest, 
 innocent affections ; though not to mine, who am but a 
 stranger, yet, however, to her's who is your own flesh; and 
 be pleased to consider, the same God who bids your 
 child obey you, bids you also, in the same breath, not to 
 provoke her, lest she be discouraged. I should much 
 rejoice if I might hear that you are inclined, yet, at last, 
 to entertain more charitable, favourable thoughts con- 
 ceraing me, who do really desire to approve myself, 
 Sir, 
 
 Your servant in the Lord, 
 
 " Philip Henry. 
 
 Worthenburj. Feb. 16, 1659. 
 
 The next letter of his. addressed to Mr. Matthews, 
 still more strongly indicates the strong prejudice of the 
 latter, and the difliculty of reconciling him to Philip 
 Heniy as his son-in-law : 
 
 " Sir, — It hath been all along my desire and care, 
 as far as I have knov^Ti myself, to walk in the highway 
 in this affair concerning your daughter. I can truly say 
 your dislike of it hitherto, hath been one of the greatest 
 afiiictions that hath befallen me ; as, on the other hand, 
 your approbation would be one of my greatest outward 
 mercies. And I do bless the Lord, who hath been 
 pleased thus far to incline your heart towards me, hoping 
 
112 
 
 UFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 he will jBinish what he hath begun. It falls out, Sir, that 
 I am engaged upon the service of my calling to-morrow 
 in the work of the Lord ; but, upon Wednesday morning, 
 at nine o'clock, God willing, I shall not fail to be at your 
 tenant's house, if your occasions will permit your pre- 
 sence there, at that time, or when else you shall ap- 
 point. This, with my service to yourself, and love un- 
 feigned to your daughter, is all at present from him who 
 is, and desires to be thought to be, 
 « Sir, 
 
 " Yours to serve you, 
 
 Philip Henry." 
 
 Worthenbnry, Feb. 27, 1659 
 
 The Articles preliminary to the marriage bear date 
 March 20, 1659, and stipulate for its solemnization ^ at 
 or before the first day of May next ensuing.' Circum- 
 stances, however, arose which seemed to render procras- 
 tination expedient, and a fresh difficulty having pre- 
 sented itself to the mind of Mr. Matthews, it is, in a let- 
 ter dated Worth enbury, June 13, 1659, thus mildly 
 alluded to. " Far be it from me to blame your due pa- 
 ternal care ; but truly. Sir, my condition being such as, 
 blessed be God, it is, and my desires and expectations 
 being proportioned accordingly, and no way exceeding, I 
 am apt to think it might be an easy matter to remove 
 that obstruction. For my own part I am willing to re- 
 fer it to yourself. You may deal in it as you see cause, 
 and I shall acquiesce in your pleasure, — only favour me 
 in her towards whom my affections are, which is the 
 great request and sole ambition, in this present address, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 113 
 
 of, Sir, your friend and servant in the Lord, Philip 
 Henry." 
 
 It was not until the 26i;h of April, 1660, that their 
 marriage was at length accomplished, and Mr. Hamilton 
 has well remarked in his life of his son : " Seldom has a 
 scene of purer domestic happiness been witnessed than the 
 love of God and one another created there." In his own 
 quaint waj^, the old divine tells that after living many 
 years with her he was never reconciled to her, — because 
 there never happened between them the slightest jar that 
 needed reconciliation. The opposition of the father, 
 however strong while it lasted, appeai-s to have been very 
 cordially withdrawn. He gave his full consent to their 
 union at the last, and himself gave away his daughter, 
 when they were united in the bands of marriage. 
 
 The scene of domestic happiness and piety which the 
 Broad Oak family presented, was one of the loveliest ex- 
 amples of virtuous contentment and kindly affections, 
 that was probably ever exhibited among the happy 
 " homes of England." Everything moved in well-ordered 
 , harmony and peace ; no discords jaring its sweet melody. 
 He ever diligent and industrious, enjoyed the ample 
 stores of a well-filled library ; never wearying of con- 
 structing courses of sermons, elaborated with all the in- 
 genious learning and methodic skill to which we have 
 already referred ; while his faithful partner was no less 
 skilled in ordering aright the ways of her household, and 
 exercising those delightful rites of hospitality which it 
 was their good-fortune to be able to bestow, when so many 
 of Philip Henry's brethren were driven forth to penury 
 and danger. 
 
 H 
 
114 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " Mr. Matthews," says Matthew Henry, " settled part 
 of his estate before maniagc upon them and theirs ; he 
 lived about seven years after.: and when he died the re- 
 mainder of it came to them. This competent estate, 
 which the divine Providence brought into his hand, was 
 not only a comfortable support to him when he was 
 turned out of his living, and when many faithful minis- 
 ters of -Christ were reduced to great poverty and straits ; 
 but it enabled him likewise, as he had opportunity, to 
 preach the gospel freely, which he did to his dying day ; 
 and not only so, but to give for the relief of others that 
 were in want, in which he sowed plentifully to a very 
 large proportion of his income ; and often blessed God 
 that he had wherewithal, remembering the words of the 
 Lord, how he said, — ' It is more blessed to give than to 
 receive.' 
 
 " Such was his house, and such the vine which God 
 graciously planted by the side of his house. By her God 
 gave him six children, all born within less than eight 
 years ; the two eldest, sons, John and Matthew ; the 
 other four, daughters, Sarah, Katharine, Eleanor, and 
 Ann, His eldest son John died in the sixth year of his 
 age ; and the rest were in mercy continued to him." 
 
 Of the genial domestic piety, and the sweet interchange 
 of Christian sympathy which bound him and his wife so 
 closely together, some idea may be formed from the fol- 
 lowing remarks of his son ; after referring to the follow- 
 ing reflection of his father as to secret prayer : " There are 
 two doors to be shut when we go to prayer ; the door of 
 our closet, that we may be secret ; the door of our hearts, 
 that we may be serious,' ' Matthew Henry adds : " Be- 
 
THE rev: PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 115 
 
 sides this, he and his wife constantly prayed together 
 morning and evening ; and never, if they were together, 
 at home or abroad, was it intermitted : and fi*om his own 
 experience of the benefit of this practice, he would take 
 all opportunities to recommend it to those in that rela- 
 tion, as conducing .very much to the comfort of it, and 
 to their furtherance in that which, he would often say, 
 is the great dutj' of yoke-fellows ; and that is, to do all 
 they can to help one another to heaven. He would say, 
 that this duty of husbands and wives praying together, 
 is intimated in that of the apostle, 1 Peter iii. 7, where 
 they are exhorted to ' live as heirs together of the grace 
 of life, that their prayers,' especially their prayers to- 
 gether, ' be not hindered : ' that nothing may be done to 
 hinder them from praying together, nor to hinder them 
 in it, nor to spoil the success of those prayers. This 
 -sanctifies the relation, and fetcheth in a blessing upon it, 
 makes the comforts of it the more sweet, and the cares 
 ■ nd crosses of it the more easy, and is an excellent means 
 >f preserving and increasing love in the relation." 
 
 Of his intercourse with the rest of his family, the fol- 
 lowing delightful account of social worship enjoined as a 
 duty, and practised as a high privilege, will afford a pic- 
 ture such as is rarely to be found even in Christian 
 families : He made conscience, a business, of family- 
 A'orship, in all the parts of it ; and in it he was uniform, 
 steady, and constant, from the time that he was first 
 called to the charge of a family to his dying day ; and, 
 according to his own practice, he took all occasions to 
 press it upon others. He would say, sometimes, if the 
 worship of God be not in the house, write, — Lord, have 
 
LIFE ANP TIMES OP 
 
 mercy upon us, on the door ; for there is a plague, a curse, 
 in it. It is the judgment of Archbishop Tillotson, in that 
 excellent book, which he published a little before his 
 death, upon this subject, — That constant family- worship 
 is so necessary to keep alive a sense of God and religion 
 in the minds of men, that he sees not how any family 
 that neglects it can in reason be esteemed a family of 
 Christians, or indeed to have any religion at all. How 
 earnestly would Mr.'Henry reason with people sometimes 
 about this matter, and tell them what a blessing it would 
 bring upon them and their houses, and all that they had ! 
 Be that makes his house a little church, shall find that 
 God will make it a little sanctuary. It may be of use to 
 give a particular account of his practice in this matter, 
 because it was very exemplary. As to the time of it, his 
 rule was, commonly, the earlier the better, both morning 
 and evening ; in the morning, before worldly business 
 crowded in, — ' Early will I seek thee.' He that is the 
 first, should have the first. Kor is it fit that the worship 
 of God should stand by and wait while the world's turn 
 is served. And early in the evening, before the children 
 and servants began to be sleepy : and therefore, if it 
 might be, he would have prayer at night before supper, 
 that the body might be the more fit to serve the soul in 
 that service of God. And indeed he did industriously 
 contrive all the circumstances of his family-worship, so 
 as to make it most solemn, and most likely to answer 
 the end. He always made it the business of every day, 
 and not, as too many make it, a bye-business. This being 
 his fixed principle, all other affairs must be sure to give 
 way to this. And he would tell those who objected 
 
THE RET. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 117 
 
 against family-worship, that they could not get time for 
 it ; that, if they would but put on Christian resolution 
 at first, they would not find the diflaculty so great as they 
 imagined ; but, after a while, their other affairs would 
 fall in easily and naturally with this, especially where 
 there is that wisdom wliich is profitable to direct. Nay, 
 they would find it to be a great preserver of order and 
 decency in a family, and it would be like a hem to all 
 their other business, to keep it from ravelling. He was 
 ever careful to have all his family present at family-wor- 
 ship ; though sometimes, living in the country, he had a 
 great household ; yet he would have not only his chil- 
 dren and sojourners, if he had any, and domestic servants, 
 but his workmen and day-labourers, and all that were 
 employed for him, if they were within call, to be present, 
 to join with him in this service ; and, as it was an act of 
 his charity many times to set them to work for liim, so 
 to that he added this act of piety, to set them to work for 
 God. And usually, when he paid his workmen their 
 wages, he gave them some good counsel about their 
 souls. Yet, if any that should come to family- worship, 
 were at a distance, and must be stayed for long, he would 
 rather vrant them, than put the duty much out of time ; 
 and would sometimes say, at night, — Better one away, 
 than all sleepy." 
 
 Very toucliing is the following account of the patri- 
 archal custom mth which he was wont to conclude 
 the daily services of family-worship : " He always," 
 says his son, " concluded family-prayer, both morning 
 and evening, with a solemn benediction, after the doxo- 
 logy ; — The blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the 
 
118 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 Son, and the Holy Ghost, be with us, &c. Thus did he 
 daily bless his household : — 
 
 " Immediately after the prayer was ended, his children 
 together, with bended knee, asked blessing of him and 
 their mother ; that is, desired of them to pray to God to 
 bless them : which blessing was given with great solem- 
 nity and affection ; and if any of them were absent, they 
 were remembered, — The Lord bless you and your brother, 
 or, — you and your sister that is absent. 
 
 " This was his daily worship, which he never altered, 
 unless, as is after mentioned, nor ever omitted any part 
 of, though he went from home never so early, or re- 
 turned never so late, or had never so much business for 
 his servants to do. He would say, that sometimes he saw 
 cause to shorten them ; but he would never omit any of 
 them ; for, if an excuse be once admitted for an omission, 
 it will be often returning. He was not willing, unless 
 the necessity were urgent, that any should go from his 
 house in a morning before family-worship ; upon such an 
 occasion, he would remind his friends, that, — prayer and 
 provender never hinder a journey. 
 
 " He managed his daily family-worship so as to make 
 it a pleasure, and not a task, to his children and servants ; 
 for he was seldom long, and never tedious in the sei*vice ; 
 the variety of the duties made it the more pleasant ; so 
 that none who joined with him had ever any reason to 
 say, ' What a weariness is it ! ' Such an excellent faculty 
 he had of rendering religion the most sweet and amiable 
 employment in the world ; and so careful was he, like 
 Jacob, ' to drive as the children could go.' If some good 
 people, that mean well, would do likewise, it might pre- 
 
rnE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 119 
 
 vent many of those prejudices which young persons are 
 apt to conceive against religion, when its services are made 
 a toil and a teiTor to them. 
 
 " Thus/' adds his affectionate biographer, " was he 
 prophet and priest in his own house ; and he was king 
 there too, ruling in the fear of God, and not suffering sin 
 in any under his roof. 
 
 " He had in earlier years a man-servant, that was once 
 overtaken in drink abroad ; for which, the next morning, 
 at family-Avorship, he solemnly reproved him, admonished 
 him, and prayed for him, with a spirit of meekness, and 
 soon after parted with him. But there were many that 
 were his sei-vants, who, by the blessing of God upon his 
 endeavours, got those good impressions upon their souls 
 which they retained ever after, and blessed God, with 
 all their hearts, that ever they came under his roof. Few 
 quitted his service till they were married, and went 
 to families of their own ; and some, after they had been 
 married, and had buried their yoke-fellows, returned to 
 his service again, saying, — Master, it is good to be here." 
 
 Seldom has a sweeter scene of domestic joy and peace 
 l}een witnessed under a Christian roof, than that which 
 tlie well-ordered household of Philip Henry displayed, — 
 all was " pure, and lovely, gentle, and of good report." 
 "W isdom's ways were there seen to be ways of pleasant- 
 ness and all her paths peace. The example he offers of 
 a Christian parent ruling by love is altogether delightful ; 
 probably no one ever excelled him in the happy skill with 
 which he made religious instruction delightful to his 
 household. 
 
 " He did not," says his son, " burden his children's 
 
120 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 memories by imposing on them the getting of chapters 
 and psahns without book ; but endeavoured to make the 
 whole word of God familiar to them, especially the 
 scripture stories, and to bring them to understand and 
 lox'e it, and then they would easily remember it. He 
 used to observe from Psalm cxix. 93 : ' I will never for- 
 get thy precepts, for wnth them thou hast quickened mc,' 
 that we are then most likely to remember the word of 
 God when it does us good. 
 
 " He himself taught all his children to write, and set 
 them betimes to transcribe sermons, and other things 
 that might be of use to them. He taught his eldest 
 daughter the Hebrew tongue when she was between 
 six and seven years old, by means of an English Hebrew 
 Grammar, which he made on purpose for her ; and she 
 went so far in it as to be able readily to read and con- 
 strue a Hebrew psalm. He drew up the following short 
 form of the baptismal covenant for the use of his chil- 
 dren : 
 
 ' I take God the Father to be my chiefest good and 
 highest end. 
 
 ' I take God the Son to be my Prince and Saviour. 
 ' I take God the Holy Ghost to be my Sanctifier, 
 
 Teacher, Guide, and Comforter. 
 ' I take the word of God to be my rule in all my 
 
 actions ; and the people of God to be my people 
 
 in all conditions. 
 * I do likewise devote and dedicate unto the Lord, my 
 
 whole self, all I am, all I have, and all I can do. 
 ' And this I do deliberately, sincerely, freely, and for 
 
 ever.' 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 121 
 
 "Tliis he taught his children, and they each of them 
 solemnly repeated it every Lord's day in the evening, 
 after they were catechised, he putting his Amen to it, 
 and sometimes adding, — So say, and so do, and you are 
 made for ever. * 
 
 " He also took pains with them to lead them to the 
 understanding of it, and to persuade them to a free and 
 cheerful consent to it. And when they grew up, he 
 made them all write it over severally with their own 
 hands, and very solemnl}' set their names to it, which he 
 told them he would keep by him, and it should be pro- 
 duced as a testimony against them in case they should 
 afterwards depart from God, and turn from following 
 after him." 
 
 Sir J. B. Williams presents, in his beautiful enlarged 
 edition of Matthew Henry's biography of his father, a 
 fac-simile of this very solemn baptismal covenant, in the 
 hand\vriting of each of the members of the Broad Oak 
 family ; certainly one of the most striking and appropriate 
 illustrations that could have been selected for a biography 
 which the late Dr. Edward Williams characterized as " a 
 beautiful delineation of primitive Christianity, and the 
 power of godliness ; where social religion and personal 
 holiness are drawn to the life, and eminently manifested ; 
 where, in a word, the doctrine of the life of God in the 
 soul of man derives a striking proof and a venerable 
 sanction." It is a series of most solemn treaties, signed 
 after earnest and prayerful preparation, and preserved 
 among the family charters of Broad Oak, as a compact 
 wherein God was one of the contracting parties with each 
 of its members; and for whom each was ready to be produced 
 
122 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 as a testimony against them if they should forget or for- 
 sake the vows of their youth. But God did not forget 
 his own promises to the righteous and to his seed. 
 These baptismal covenants never were produced as an 
 e\ddence of their faithlessness, or a testimony against 
 any one of them. 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 THE RESTOKATION 
 
 The period of Philip Henry's maniage was one in 
 which England generally experienced all the evils of un- 
 certainty and fear. Oliver Cromwell, the great Protec- 
 tor of the English Commonwealth, was already in his 
 grave, and in the weak hands of his son Richard, all things 
 had threatened to lapse into anarchy and confusion — a 
 state of things only averted at last by the unconditional 
 restoration of the Stuarts, whose tyranny had already 
 brought so much woe and suffering on the nation. Every 
 thing seemed falling into confusion and disorder, after 
 the resignation of Richard, and Charles and his old ad- 
 herents soon began to augur hopefully from such a statf 
 of things. In August, 1659, he removed to Calais, so 
 as to be ready to avail himself of any chance that might 
 offer for his return to his father's throne. He had still, 
 however, to wait for seme time, and removed to Breda, 
 where he at length was delighted by the receipt of Gene- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP ITENRT. 
 
 ral Monk's proposals for his restoration. From Breda, 
 in the month of April, 1660 — the same in which Philip 
 Henry was married — Charles wrote his letters to the 
 House of Lords, and to the Commons, and penned his 
 royal declaration to all his loving subjects, full of pro- 
 mises which he never performed. 
 
 On the 1st of the following month of May, the par- 
 liament voted his restoration, and he was proclaimed in 
 London within a week after, as sovereign of England, 
 Scotland, and Ireland. 
 
 The people were worn out with successive changes, 
 threats, and fears, since the death of the great Protector ; 
 and sunk passively into the hands of Charles and his 
 cavalier councillors. He commenced his reign by a com- 
 plete restoration of the ancient order of things, both in 
 church and state — thereby rendering, as it seemed, utterly 
 vain and worthless all the sufferings and toils with which 
 the nation had struggled against oppression. 
 
 Such were the events which were occurring at the time 
 of Philip Henry's marriage, and such the momentous ne- 
 gotiations that were pending, wliile he, too, negotiated a 
 matter on which his own future happiness so gi'^atly de- 
 pended. The ejection of the Presbyterian clergy did not 
 follow immediately on the restoration of Charles II. and 
 the overthrow of every alteration and reform effected 
 since the first assembling of the long parliament ; but all 
 who differed conscientiously from the established form of 
 government in church or state, must have experienced 
 no slight degree of anxiety and apprehension, so soon as 
 the course of procedure adopted by Charles was made 
 fully known. The following letter, addressed to Mrs. 
 
124 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Henry by her husband, during a short visit he made to 
 the capital a few months after their marriage, affords 
 some curious and very interesting insight into the early 
 proceedings of the new reign, and the circumstances in 
 which the country was involved shortly after Charles 
 began to carry out his schemes for re-modelling the go- 
 vernment. It is no less pleasing, from the evidence it 
 affords of the afJectionate solicitude and the simple ^iety 
 of the writer : 
 
 "London, Oct. 9, 1660. 
 
 " Dear Heart, 
 
 " I bless God I am safe and well at London. 
 I came from Oxford yesterday morning alone, but the 
 Lord was with me ; it was a long journey, but I was 
 stirring betimes. I was nine miles on my way before 
 eight o'clock, and came an liour or two before sunset to 
 Thistleworth. Towards the end of my journey, for three 
 or four miles, where was most danger, it pleased God I 
 had company, which was a great mercy. I met many 
 soldiers upon the way, going homewards upon their dis- 
 banding, towards their several countries, and I was 
 sometimes afi-aid of them. They were by two and three 
 in a company, but the Lord preserved me. This morn- 
 ing I came to Chelsea, where I saw my sisters in health, 
 blessed be God, and overjoyed to see me ; from thence, 
 this afternoon to London. I have been with cousin 
 Thomas Hotchkis, from whom I received a letter to Sir 
 Orlando Bridgman from Mr. Eddow ; and to-morrow I 
 purpose, God willing, to wait upon his Lordship, expect- 
 ing a charge from him in the first place, about confor- 
 mity, wherein yet I shall do as I see cause, in case I 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 125 
 
 should be continued at Wortllenbur3^ The ministers 
 here are generally unanimous and resolved. Dr. Sliel- 
 don was installed Bishop of London to-day. The King 
 is gone into the country for a fortnight, during the trial 
 of his father's judges, to prevent petitions. I sleep tu- 
 night at Mrs. Kingston's who desires to be remeinbei cd 
 to you, and to Mr. Puleston and his wife. I wrote to you 
 by the last post, from Oxford. Commend me to sister 
 Mary, and all that ask of me. Dear heart, make much 
 of thyself, and love me, and the Lord everlasting be thy 
 sun and shield ! So prayeth, 
 
 " Thine, in all affection, 
 
 " Philip Henry," 
 
 The newly-restored King was busy, as we see, in cele- 
 brating liis restoration to his father's throne, by such 
 acts of vengeance as he could accomplish. With a con- 
 temptible meanness, worthy of that licentious voluptuary 
 and his sycophantish court, one of his first acts was to 
 exhume the bodies of Cromwell and his noble mother, and 
 that of Admiral Blake, and fling them out of West- 
 minster Abbey as carrion which desecrated that ancient 
 Clmstian fane. His next act was the seizure and con- 
 demnation of as many of his father's judges as he could 
 lay hands on, during which season of triumphant revenge 
 England's great Christian poet, Milton, narrowly escaped 
 the scaffold. We obtain, by means of Philip Henry's 
 letter to his wife, a glimpse of the policy of the rulers of 
 England at this period : and of the strange state of dis- 
 order and uncertainty that still prevailed. The with- 
 drawal of Charles, to escape from the impoitunities of 
 
126 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 those who urged the plea of mercy, is a sufficiently char- 
 acteristic trait of the initiatory proceedings of the go- 
 vernment that soon after gave to England her " St. Bar- 
 tholomew's day," and to Scotland the persecutions and 
 the martyrdoms of the heroes of the covenant. 
 
 " To return," says Matthew Henry, in the Life of his 
 Father, " to the history of events that were concerning 
 him, we are obliged to look back to the first year after his 
 marriage, which was the year that King Charles II. 
 came in ; a year of greatchanges and struggles in the land, 
 of which Mr. Baxter, in his life, gives a full, clear, and 
 impartial idea ; by which it may be easily guessed how 
 it went with Mr. Henry in his humble and narrow sphere, 
 whose sentiments in those things were very much the 
 same with Mr. Baxter's. 
 
 " Many of his best friends in Worthenbury parish were 
 removed by death ; Emeral family was altogether 
 changed from what it had been ; and the same spirit, 
 which revived that year all over the nation, was working 
 violently in that county, producing great enmity against' 
 such men as Mr Henry. Worthenbury, upon the King's 
 coming in, was restored to its former relation to Bangor, 
 and was looked upon as a chapelry dependent upon it. Mr. 
 Robert Fogg had, for many years, held the sequestered 
 Rectory of Bangor, which now Dr. Henry Bridgman, 
 (son to John, Bishop of Chester, and brother to the Lord 
 Keeper Bridgman,) returned to the possession of. By 
 this Mr. Henry was soon apprehensive that his interest 
 at Worthenbury was shaken ; but thus he writes : — ' The 
 will of the Lord be done. Lord, if my work be finished 
 here, provide some other for this people, that may be 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 127 
 
 more skilful, and more successful, and cut out work for 
 me elsewhere ; however, I will take nothing ill which 
 God doth with me. 
 
 " He laboured what he could to make Dr. Bridgman 
 his friend, who gave him good words, and was very civil 
 to him. He assured him that he would never remove 
 him till the law did ; but he must look upon himself as 
 the doctor's curate, and depending upon his will. This 
 kept him in continual expectation of removal ; how- 
 ever, he continued in his liberty there above a year, 
 though in vei-y fickle and precarious circumstances. 
 
 " The grand question now on foot was, whether to con- 
 form, or no. He used all means possible to satisfy him- 
 elf concerning it, by reading and discourse, particularly 
 at Oxford, with Dr. Fell, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, 
 but in vain ; his dissatisfaction remained ; — however, 
 saith he, I dare not judge those that do conform ; for, 
 who am I, that I should judge my brothej- ?" 
 
 Addressing Dr. Bridgman about this period, he thus 
 expressed his views, which afford a fair example of the 
 moderation of those good men who were driven into 
 Nonconformity b}- the intolerance of the restoration-go- 
 vernment : — " I think I am none of those who are in 
 the extremes ; nevertheless, my resolution is, if those 
 things be indispensably imposed which I cannot practise 
 without sinning against my conscience, I shall choose 
 rather to lose all, yet not violating, by my good-will, 
 the public peace of the church. And herein, I presume, 
 you will not blame me. But, if moderation be used, 
 wherein it will be your honour to be instrumental, if my 
 poor t^ilent may contribute anything to the glory of God, 
 
128 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 and the salvation of souls, I trust I shall never be found 
 guilty of wilfully burying it, lest I fall under the ' woe 
 i£ I preach not the gospel,' God, of his infinite mercy, 
 direct you, and all who are called to consult in the af- 
 fairs of religion, that you may do nothing against the 
 truth and peace, but for it, which is the hearty prayer 
 of, Sir, 
 
 Your servant in the gospel, 
 
 P. Henry." 
 
 He notes, that being in discourse with the Dean and 
 Cliancellor and others at Chester, about this time, the 
 great argument they used with him to persuade him to 
 conform was, that otlierwise he would lose his prefer- 
 ment. What, said they, you are a young man, and 
 are you wiser than the King and bishops 1 But this 
 is his reflection upon it afterwards ; — " God grant that I 
 may never be left to consult with flesh and blood in such 
 matters." 
 
 " In September, 1660, Mr. Fogg, Mr. Steel, and Mr. 
 Henry, were presented at Flint Assizes, for not reading 
 the Common Prayer, though as yet it was not enjoined, 
 but tliere were some busy people would outrun the law. 
 They entered their appearance, and soon after the King's 
 declaration, touching ecclesiastical affairs came out, 
 which promised liberty, and gave hopes of settlement ; 
 but the following spring assizes, Mr. Steel and Mr. Henrj' 
 were presented again. On this he writes : ' Be merciful 
 to me, 0 God, for man would swallow me up ! The 
 Lord show me what he would have me to do, for I am 
 afraid of nothing but sin.' " 
 
THE REV. PniLIP HENRY. 
 
 129 
 
 It appears by hints from his diary, that he had melan- 
 choly apprehensions at this time about public affairs, 
 seeing and hearing of so many faithful ministers disturbed, 
 silenced, and ensnared ; tlie ways of Zion mourning, and 
 the quiet in the land treated as the troublers of it, his 
 '•ul wept in secret for it.'' Yet he joined in the annual 
 
 inmemoration of the King's restoration, retaining his 
 old fidelity to the playmate of his youth, and the son of 
 the royal master whom his father served so faithfully to 
 his last hour. He preached on Mark xii. 17 : " ' Render 
 to Ceasar the things that are Ceasar's :' considering, saith 
 he, that this was his right ; and the manner of his 
 coming in without bloodshed. Tliis he all his days 
 spoke of as a national mercy, but w^hat he rejoiced in 
 with a great deal of trembling for ' the ark of God and 
 he would sometimes say, — That during those years of 
 the Commonwealth and Protectorate, though on ciyil 
 accounts there were great disorders, and the foundations 
 were out of course ; yet, in the matters of God's worsliip, 
 things went well, there was fi-eedom, and reformation, 
 and a face of godliness was upon the nation, though there 
 were those that made but a inask of it. Ordinances were 
 administered in power and purity, and though there was 
 much amiss, yet religion, at least in the profession of it, 
 did prevail. This, saith he, we know very well, let men 
 say what they will of those times. 
 
 " In November, 1660, he took the oath of allegiance at 
 Orton, before Sir Thomas Hanmer and two other justices ; 
 of which he has left a memorandum in his diary, with 
 this added : God so help me, as 1 purpose in my heart, * 
 to do accordingly. Nor could any more conscientiously 
 
 I 
 
130 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 observe that oath of God than he did, nor more sincerely 
 promote the ends of it. 
 
 " That year, according to an agi-eement with some of 
 his brethren in the ministry, who hoped thereby to oblige 
 some people, he preached upon Christmas day. The sab- 
 bath before, it happened that the twenty-third chapter 
 of Leviticus, which treats entirely of the Jewish feasts, 
 called there 'the feasts of the Lord,' came in course to 
 be expounded, which gave him occasion to distinguish 
 feasts divine and ecclesiastical ; the divine feasts that 
 the Jews had were those there appointed, their ecclesi- 
 astical feasts were those of Purim, and of Dedication. 
 In the application of it, he said he knew no divine 
 feast we have under the gospel, but the Lord's day, in- 
 tended for the commemoration of the whole mercy of 
 our redemption. The most that could *be said for 
 Christmas was, that it is an ecclesiastical feast ; and it is 
 questionable with some, whether church or state, though 
 they could make a good day, could make a holy day. 
 Nevertheless, forasmuch as we find our Lord Jesus so 
 far complying with the church feast of dedication, as to 
 take occasion from the people's coming together to preach 
 to them, he purposed to preach upon Christmas day, 
 knowing it to be his duty, in season and out of season. 
 He preached on 1 John iii. 8, ' Fgr this purpose was the 
 Son of God manifested, that he might destroy the works 
 of the devil.' And he minded his people that it is double 
 dishonour to Jesus Christ to practise the works of the 
 devil then, when we keep a feast in memory of his 
 * manifestation." 
 
THE REV. nilLIP HENRY. 
 
 131 
 
 CHAPTER Xni. 
 
 EXCLUSION FR05I WORTHENBURY. 
 
 One of the earliest, as well as the most painful evi- 
 dences Philip Henry experienced of the influence of the 
 important political changes of the period, on his own cir- 
 cumstances, was the total estrangement of the Emeral 
 family, through whose generous zeal, under the good 
 ■; vovidence of God, he had been introduced into the sphere 
 his labours as a Christian minister, and by whom he 
 i:ad been so kindly and liberally provided for. He was 
 left, however, like the children of Israel in the land of 
 shen, " when there arose up anothei king over Egypt 
 it knew not Joseph." His attached friend Lady Pules- 
 1, and the pious Judge, his kind and generous patron, 
 IB no more, while the heirs who had succeeded to the 
 I eral estates, looked on the earnest zeal of Philip Henry 
 fin offensive austerity, which was a reproof of their de- 
 . aou of the principles they had been taught in their 
 .;tli. The very liberality of the good old Judge ex- 
 posed Hem-y to the envy and injustice of liis heu's, as he 
 had settled on him a stipend chargeable on the estate, at 
 once superior to the average amount of the tithes, and in- 
 dependent of any of the fluctuations or drawbacks to 
 which that ecclesiastical tax is subject. 
 
 ''His annuity from Emeral," says Mathew Henry, "was 
 now withheld, because he did not read the Common Prayer, 
 though, as yet, there was no law for reading it : hereby 
 
X32 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 he was disabled from doing wliat he had been wont for the 
 help and relief of others ; and this he has recorded as 
 what troubled him most under that disappointment. 
 But he blessed God, — That he had a heai-t to do good, 
 even when his hand was empty. 
 
 "When the Emeral family was unkind to him, he 
 reckoned it a great mercy, which he gave God thanks for, 
 that Mr. Broughton and his family, which is of consider- 
 able figure in the parish, continued their kindness and 
 respect to him, and their countenance of his ministry, of 
 which he makes fateful mention more than once in his 
 diary. 
 
 " Many attempts were made in the year 1661 to dis- 
 turb and ensnare him, and it was still expected that he 
 would have been hindered. — Methinks, says he, sabbaths 
 were never so sweet as they are, now we are kept at such 
 uncertainties ; now, ' a day. in thy courts is better than 
 a thousand such a day as this, he remarks of a sacrament- 
 day that year, is better than ten thousand. Oh, that we 
 might yet see many such days ! " 
 
 Some extracts from his diary, at this peiiod, afford 
 striking evidence of the elevated piety and holy meek- 
 ness of the writer, and are well calculated to excite grati- 
 tude for present privileges, civil and religious. 
 
 " 1661. January, 24, 25. A time of trouble in the 
 nation. Many good men imprisoned and restrained : 
 some with, some without, cause. I am yet in peace, 
 blessed be God, but expect suffering. Lord, prepare me 
 for it, and grant that I may never suffer as an evil-doer, 
 but as a Christian ! 
 
 " 31. Things are lov/ with me in the world ; but three- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 133 
 
 pence left. My hope is yet in the Lord, that in due time 
 he will supply me. Amen." 
 
 In the next entry, dated April 3d, he alludes to a prac 
 tice which is thus referred to by Sir J. B. Williams : " In 
 the year 1576, Archbishop Grindal ' encouraged a prac- 
 tice which was taken up in divers places of the nation : 
 the manner whereof was, that the ministers of such a di- 
 vision, at a set time, met together in some church ; and 
 there, each in their order, explained, according to their 
 ability, some particular portion of scripture allotted them 
 before, &c. At these assemblies there were great con- 
 fluxes of people to hear and learn.' These were com- 
 monly called Exercises, or Prophesyings. However, 
 Queen Elizabeth 'liked not of them,' nor would she 
 have them continued. ' The Archbishop being at court, 
 she required him to abridge the number of preachers, 
 and to put down the religious exercises. This did not 
 a little afflict the grave man. He thought the Queen 
 made some infringement upon his office, nor could he in 
 conscience comply with her commands.' He, therefore, 
 wrote toiler Majesty, and the whole of his 'excellent 
 and memorable letter ' is preserved in the Appendix to 
 his Life and Acts, by Strype. Her Majesty, however, 
 was immoveable, and sent her own commandment. May, 
 1577, to the ' Bishops throughout England for suppress- 
 ing' these Exercises, they being an 'offence ' to her quiet 
 subjects, who desired 'to live and to serve God according 
 to the uniform orders established in the church.' Nor 
 was this all : the venerable Archbishop was both con- 
 fined and sequestered." 
 
 Such is the origin of the service to which Philip Heniy 
 
134 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 thus refers in his diary : " Hanmer exercise. Mr. Por- 
 ter and Mr. Steel taught. I was designed to it, but it 
 was much better as it was. Sir Thomas Hanmer signi- 
 fied his dislike of it, which made it doubtful M^hetherwe 
 should have any more, but at parting I never saw such 
 a face of sadness as was upon those who were present. 
 Sure, God hears the sighs, and sees the tears, of his poor 
 people. 
 
 " June 16. Common-Prayer Book tendered again ; 
 why, I know not. Lord, they devise devices against me, 
 but in thee do I put my trust. ' Father, forgive them ! ' 
 My hands are yet clean from the pollutions of the times. 
 Lord, keep them, and ' let no iniquity prevail against me.' 
 
 " 23. Strong reports I should not be suffered to preach 
 to-day; but I did; and no disturbance. Blessed be God, 
 who hath my enemies in a chain. 
 
 " July 4. News from London of speedy severity in- 
 tended against Nonconformists. The Lord can yet, if he 
 will, break the snare. If not, welcome the will of God. 
 
 " 8. I received a letter from Dr. Bridgman, wherein he 
 informed me, if I did not speedily conform, his power 
 would no longer protect me ; to which I wrote a dilatory, 
 answer, hoping, yet, my God may find out some way 
 break the snare. However, I had rather lose all, and 
 save my conscience, than contra. 
 
 " 9. I advised with friends ; R. B. told me, though he 
 desired my stay above any outward thing in the world, 
 yet he could wish rather I would be gone, than conform; 
 I was with Mr. Steel, with whom I spent two or three 
 hours in discourse about it, and returned home strength"« 
 ened. 
 
THE REV. PHTTJP HENRY. 
 
 135 
 
 " 24. Great expectation of a severe act about impos- 
 ing the Common Prayer and ceremonies. It passed both 
 Houses of Parliament, but is not signed by the King. 
 Lord, his heart is in thy hand ; if it be thy will turn it : 
 if otherwise, fit thy people to suffer, and cut short the 
 work in righteousness ! " 
 
 Again he notes, in the month of September following : 
 8. This morning I verily thought I should have been 
 hindered from preaching, but was not. The Lord heard 
 prayei-s. Dr. Bridgman sent me a Prohibition from the 
 Chancellor to peruse, upon complaint from Sir Thomas 
 Hanmer. It was not published. Mr. Taylor hindered 
 at Holt. Mr. Adams at Penley. Lord, think of thy 
 vineyard ! They took the cushion from me, but the 
 pulpit was left. Blessed be God. 
 
 "29. Liberty yet continued ; an order was brought to me 
 to be published, prohibiting sti-angers from coming hither 
 to church, but I published it not. Lord, provide for 
 poor congi-egations, that are as sheep without a shepherd ! 
 
 "October 17. I was cited to appear at the Bishop's 
 Court, as upon this day, but went not. My fault was, — 
 hindering the publishing of the Dean's Order as to stran- 
 gers. If I had hindered it, it had been a small fault : 
 but I did not ; I only refused to publish it myself." 
 
 Towards the end of October we find the following en- 
 try : " Through the good hand of our God upon us, we have 
 this day enjoyed one sweet sacrament more. They did 
 U8 all the hinderance they could, but, notwithstanding, 
 afterwards, we proceeded." 
 
 Continuing the biography of his father, Matthew Henry 
 remarks : " He was advised by Mr. Ratcliff of Ches- 
 
136 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 ter, and others of his friends, to enter an action against 
 Mr. Puleston for his annuity, and did so ; — but, concern- 
 ing the success of it, saith he, I am not over solicitous ; 
 for, though it be my due, yet it was not that which I 
 preached for ; and God knows, I would much rather 
 preach for nothing, than not at all ; and besides, I know 
 assuredly, if I should lose, God would make it up to 
 me some other way. After some proceedings he not only 
 moved, but solicited Mr. Puleston to refer it ; — having 
 learned, says he, that it is no disparagement, but an 
 honour, for the party wronged to be first in seeking re- 
 conciliation. The Lord, if it be his will, incline his heart 
 to peace. I have now, saith he, two gi-eat concerns upon 
 the wheel, one in reference to my maintenance for time 
 past ; the other, as to my continuance for the future ; 
 the Lord be my friend in both ; but, of the two, rather 
 in the latter. But, saith he, many of greater gifts and 
 graces than I are laid aside already, and when my turn 
 comes I know not ; the will of God be done. He can 
 do his work without us." 
 
 It was in truth a period of peculiar anxiety to this 
 good man, for he was not only in daily anticipation of 
 being silenced, and altogether cast out of the ministry', 
 but he was also threatened with, the loss of much of his 
 just income, which still remained due. After earnestly 
 and conscientiously deliberating on the arguments both 
 in favour and against his claims, he thus sums up the 
 reasons why Mr. Puleston should yield to a composition 
 with him, the nature of which shows how much personal 
 enmity had to do with these unjust proceedings : 
 
 "1. In point of equity : the labourer being worthy of 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 137 
 
 his hire ; especially, considering the labourer's wages 
 detained cries loud in heaven, and brings a curse. 
 
 "2. In point of advantage. If I should recover, as 
 there is hope I may, it will be bad for him, especially 
 having parted with the tithes which he might have kept. 
 
 3. In point of honour. I came hither upon the in- 
 vitation of his family ; left my place in the University, 
 where, he knows, I had encouragement to have stayed. 
 Also the relation wherein I stood to him as tutor. 
 Also, his promise. If there was any occasion of his anger 
 given, it was when he was a child, and under my tuition, 
 and it was my duty to complain ; though, he knows, how 
 sparing I was that way. And for persuading his father 
 to disinherit him, he hath acknowledged he did believe 
 it was not so ; and I know it was not. 
 
 " The issue of this affair was, that, there having been 
 some disputes between Mr. Puleston and Dr. Bridgman, 
 about the tithe of Worthenbury, wherein the former had 
 clearly the better claim to make, indeed, by the media- 
 tion of Sir Thomas Hanmer, they came to this agreement, 
 September 11, 1661, that Dr. Bridgman and his succes- 
 sors. Parsons of Bangor, should have and receive all the 
 tithe corn and hay of Worthenbury, without the distur- 
 bance of Mr. Puleston or his heirs, except the tithe hay 
 of Emeral demesne, upon condition that Dr. Bridgman 
 should, before the first of November following, discharge 
 the present minister or curate, Philip Henry, from the 
 chapel of Worthenbury, and not hereafter, at any time, 
 re-admit him to oflBciate in the cure. This is the sub- 
 stance of the articles agreed upon between them, pursuant 
 to which Dr. Bridgman soon after dismissed Mr. Henry ; 
 
138 
 
 LIFE Am TIMES OF 
 
 and, by a writing under his hand, which was published 
 in the church of Worthenbury, by one of Mr. Puleston's 
 servants, October the 27th follomng, notice was given to 
 the parish of that dismission. That day, he preached his 
 farewell sermon on Philippians i. 27, — ' Only let your 
 conversation be as becomes the gospel of Christ.' In which, 
 as he says in his diary, his desire and design was rather 
 to profit than to affect. — It matters not what becomes 
 of me, — ' whether I come unto you, or else be absent,' 
 — ^but ' let your conversation be as becomes the gospel.' 
 His parting prayer for them was, — ' The Lord, the God 
 of the spirits of all flesh, set a man over the congregation.' 
 Thus he ceased to preach to his poople there, but he 
 ceased not to love them, and pray for them ; and could 
 not but think there remained still some relation betwixt 
 him and them. 
 
 " As to the arrears of his annuity when he was displaced, 
 after some time Mr. Puleston was willing to give him 
 ^100, which was a good deal less than what was duCj 
 upon condition that he would surrender his deed of an- 
 nuity, and his lease of the house, which he, for peace 
 sake, was willing to do ; and so he lost all the benefit of 
 Judge Puleston's great kindness to him. This was not 
 completed till September, 1662, until which time he 
 continued in the house at Worthenbuiy, but never 
 preached so much as once in the church, though there 
 were vacancies several times. 
 
 Mr. Richard Hilton was immediately put into the 
 curacy of Worthenbury, by Dr. Bridgman. Mr. Henry 
 went to hear him while he was at Worthenbury, and 
 joined in all the parts of the public worship, particularly 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 139 
 
 attending upon the sacrament of baptism, not daring, 
 saith he, to turn my back upon God's ordinance, while 
 the essentials of it are retained, though corrupted, cir- 
 cumstantially, in the administration of it, which Grod 
 amend ! Once, being allowed the liberty of his gesture," 
 that is, not being required to kneel, "he joined in the 
 Lord's supper. He kept up correspondence with Mr. 
 Hilton, and, as he says in his diarj', endeavoured to 
 possess him with right thoughts of his work, and ad- 
 vised him the best he could in the soul affairs of that 
 ] eople ; which he seemed to take well. I am sure, he 
 -Is, I meant it so, and the Lord make him faithful ! 
 " Immediately after he was removed and silenced at 
 Worthenburj , he was solicited to preach at Bangor, and 
 Dr. Bridgman was willing to permit it occasionally, and 
 intimated to his curate there, that he should never hin- 
 ler it ; but Mr. Henry declined it. Though his silence 
 s his great grief, yet, such was his tenderness, that he 
 '.5 not willing so far to discourage Mr. Hilton at Wor- 
 'lienbury, nor to draw so many of the people from him, 
 ~ would certainly have followed him to Bangor. 
 • When the King came in first, and showed so good a 
 I aper, as many thought, some of his friends were very 
 a nest with him to revive his acquaintance and interest 
 at court, which it was thought he might easUy do. It 
 i was reported in the country- that the Duke of York had 
 i inquire^l after him, but he heeded not the report, nor 
 i would he be persuaded to make any addresses that way ; 
 for, saith he, my friends do not know so well as I, the 
 strength of temptation, and ray own inability to deal 
 with it. 
 
140 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " He was greatly affected with the temptations and 
 afflictions of many faithful ministers of Christ at this 
 time by the pressing of conformity ; and greatly pitied 
 some who, by the urgency of friends, and the fear of 
 want, were over-persuaded to put a force upon themselves 
 in their conformity. The Lord keep me, saith he, in the 
 critical time ! 
 
 '* He preached occasionally in divers neighbouring 
 places, till Bartholomew day, 1662 ; the day, saith 
 he, which our sins have made one of the saddest 
 days to England since the death of Edward VL, but even 
 this for good, though we knoAv not how, nor which way. 
 He was invited to preach at Bangor on the black Bar- 
 tholomew day, and prepared a sermon on John vii. 37 : 
 * In the last day, that great day of the feast,' &c., but was 
 prevented from preaching it, and was loath to strive 
 against so strong a stream." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ST. BARTHOLOMEW ACT. 
 
 When Charles II. entered London, on the 29th of 
 May, 1660, as he passed through the city towards West- 
 minster, he was met by a lai^e body of the London min- 
 isters, one of whom, Mr. Arthur Jackson, an aged and 
 venerable minister of the gospel, presented his Majesty 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 141 
 
 with a richly bound Bible, which was very graciously 
 received ; Charles assuring his reverend welcomers, " The 
 Bible shall be the rule of my government and of my life." 
 How far either the public actions or the private conduct 
 of ihe restored monarch in any degree coincided with such 
 a declaration is sufficiently notorious to render any illus- 
 tration of it unnecessarj'. "The King," says Bishop 
 Burnet, *' had a good understanding, and knew well the 
 state of affairs both at home and abroad. He had a soft- 
 ness of temper that charmed all who came near him, till 
 tliey found out how little they could depend on good 
 looks, kind words, and fair promises, in which he was 
 liberal to excess ; because he intended nothing by them, 
 but to get rid of importunities. He seemed to have no 
 sense of religion. He was no atheist, but disguised his 
 Popery to the last." Such was the man on whom Eng- 
 land had voluntarily conferred the absolute power it had 
 cost her so many years of war and suffering and blood to 
 m-est from his far more virtuous and noble father. How 
 far more truly might the language of Forster be applied 
 to this suicidal act of England in restoring the Stuart 
 heir untrameUed to his father's throne, than to that in- 
 cident to which he refers, viz, the dismissal of the long 
 parliament by Cromwell, when he exclaimed, " In that 
 moment perished the rights in whose name twelve years 
 of the miseries of civil war had been unrepiningly en- 
 countered, making vain, and viler than dirt, the blood of 
 so many faithful and valiant Englishmen, who had left 
 their countrymen in the liberty bought vnth their 
 Kves." 
 
 In a season of change hope is ever present, and most 
 
142 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 SO with those who have had any cause of dissatisfaction 
 in the past. On the accession of Charles II. many of 
 the Puritan clergy anticipated the utmost extent of 
 favour ; founding their expectations no less on the 
 gracious promises of the King, than on the favourable 
 schooling which they fondly believed his own adversity 
 and the remembrance of his father's fate were calculated 
 to effect. In the famous declaration of the King, sent 
 from Breda, he assures them, "that he should grant 
 liberty to tender consciences, and that no man should 
 be questioned for a difterence of opinion in matters of 
 religion, who did not disturb the peace of the king- 
 dom." This was engaging to do no more than to carrj' 
 out the tolerant policy of Cromwell's Protectorate. 
 But all these Iflattering promises were made with the 
 most shameless contempt for good faith or conscience. 
 Without waiting for any act of uniformity, hundreds 
 of worthy ministers were driven out from their churches 
 and livings soon after the King's return. The colleges 
 were in like manner purged of all members of either 
 university who had manifested any zeal for the prin- 
 ciples and doctrines most dear to the Puritans, while 
 the Puritan clergy speedily saw in the restoration of 
 the bishops to their sees, with all the ancient pomp and 
 splendour of collegiate establishments, deaneries, and 
 stalls, how little likelihood there was that the tolera- 
 tion of the Protectorate should be found by them un- 
 der the restored monarchy. 
 
 The licentiousness and irreligion of the people, and 
 the open profligacy of many of the clergy, which had 
 BO entirely disappeared during the Commonwealth, be- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 143 
 
 gan once more to revive under the influence of the 
 
 I court. Theatres again opened ; Sunday-games and 
 church-holydays with more of sport than of religious ser- 
 j vices were revived, and the whole aspect of England 
 i speedily suffered a sweeping and most lamentable change. 
 The clergy were for a few weeks after the restoration 
 somewhat in fear of public opinion, and the whole- 
 some terror which the rigorous ecclesiastical visitations 
 j of commissioners had inspired during the Common- 
 i wealth. " But," says Brook, in the introduction to his 
 I Lives of the Puritans, "the court and bishops were 
 I now at ease. The doctrines of passive obedience and 
 j nonresistance were revived. And the Puritans began to 
 I prepare for those persecutions which presently followed. 
 I jMr. Crofton, who had been very zealous for the King's 
 I restoration, for having written in favour of the covenant 
 I Avas deprived of his living, and sent close prisoner to 
 the Tower, where he was not permitted to have pen. 
 ink, or paper. Mr. Parsons, a noted royalist, was fined 
 £200, and cast into prison, for nonconformity. The 
 celebrated Mr. John Hoyve was committed to prison; 
 ; and multitudes were sequestered and prosecuted in the 
 ecclesiastical courts, for not wearing the surplice and 
 observing the ceremonies. These were powerful indi- 
 cations of the approaching storm. Mr. Thomas Venner, 
 a wine-cooper, with about fifty of his admirers, being 
 in expectation of a fifth universal monarchy, under 
 the personal reign of King Jesus upon the earth, raised 
 an insun-ection in the city. But their mad scheme 
 was frustrated. Many of them were killed in the con- 
 
144 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 test ; and Venner and some others were seized, tried, 
 condemned, and executed. 
 
 "Upon Venner's insurrection, Mr. KnoUys, and many 
 other innocent persons, were dragged to Newgate, where 
 they continued eighteen weeks. The rebellion of Ven- 
 ner occasioned a ro^'al proclamation, prohibiting all 
 Anabaptists and other sectaries from worshipping God 
 in public, except at their parish churches. This un- 
 natural edict was another signal for persecution. Mr. 
 Biddle was tried at the public sessions, fineil £lOO, and 
 cast into prison, where he soon after died. Mr. John 
 James was seized in the pulpit, tried, condemned, and 
 beheaded. His bowels were then burnt, and his body 
 being quartered, was placed upon the four gates of the 
 city of London, and his head first upon London bridge, 
 then opposite his meeting-house in Bulstake Alley." 
 
 Such were the proceedings that prepared the way for 
 that intolerant act, enforced on the 24th of A.ugust, 1662, 
 justly denominated " The Black Bautholomew-day." 
 " It was a day," says Philip Henry, in an entry of his 
 diary, " famous for two remarkable events happening upon 
 it, and both fatal. The one, that day threescore years 
 before, fatal to the church of France in the massacre of 
 many thousands of Protestants at Paris. The other, fa- 
 tal to the Dissenting ministers of England, near upon 
 two thousand, (whereof myself an imworthy one,) who 
 were put to silence on that day, and forbidden to preach 
 the gospel under severe penalties, because they would 
 not, they durst not, sin against God." 
 
 It well merits indeed to be stigmatised as one of the 
 most pefidious and oppressive acts ever devised by an 
 
145 
 
 THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 intolerant and irreligious government. It cannot be 
 doubted that its object was as much to silence and eject 
 conscientious and devout ministers, as to secure the absurd 
 and vain idea of conformity. Abundant evidence exists 
 to show that the fear amongst many of the court part, 
 was rather that many such men would conform, than 
 that so large a number would be silenced and ejected. 
 
 Matthew Henry, after entering veiy minutely into the 
 reasons for his father's noncomformity, remarks : — " In 
 short, it cannot be wondered at, that he was a Noncon- 
 formist, when the terms of conformity were so indus- 
 triously contrived to keep out of the church such men 
 as he ; which is manifested by the full account which 
 Mr. Baxter hath left to posterity, of that affair ; and it 
 is a passage worth noticing here, which Dr. Bates, in his 
 funeral sermon on Mr. Baxter, relates ; that when the 
 Lord Chamberlain Manchester told the King, while the 
 Act of Uniformity was under debate, that he was afraid 
 that the terms were so hard, that many of the ministers 
 would not comply with them. Bishop Sheldon, being 
 present, replied, ' I am afraid they will.' And it is well 
 known how many of the most sober, pious, and laborious 
 ministers, in all parts of the nation. Conformists as well 
 as Nonconfonnists, did dislike thq^e impositions. 
 
 lie thought it a mercy, since it must be so, that the 
 case of nonconformity was made so clear as it was, abun- 
 dantly to satisfy him in his silence and sufferings. I 
 have heard that Mr. Anthony Burges, who hesitated be- 
 fore, when he read the Act, blessed God that the matter 
 was put out of doubt. And yet, to make sure work, the 
 printing and publishing of the new Book of Common 
 S 
 
146 
 
 LIFE /fND TIMES OF 
 
 Prayer was so deferred, that few of the ministers, except 
 those in London, could possibly get a sight of it, much 
 less duly consider of it, before the time prefixed ; which 
 Mr. Steel took notice of in iiis Farewell Sermon at Han- 
 mer, August 17, 1662, — that he was silenced and turned 
 out for not declaring his unfeigned assent and co7isent to 
 a book which he never saio nor cotdd see. 
 
 " One thing which he comforted himself with in his 
 nonconformity was, that as to matters of ' doubtful dis- 
 putation' touching church government, ceremonies, and 
 the like, he was unsworn, either on one side or the other, 
 and so was free from those snares and bands in which 
 so many find themselves tied up from what they would 
 do, and entangled that they know not what to do. He 
 was one of those that ' feared an oath,' and would often 
 say, — Oaths are edged tools, and not to be played with. 
 One passage I find in liis papers, which confirmed him 
 in this satisfaction ; it is a letter from no less a clergy- 
 man than Dr. Fowler, of Whitchurch to one of his 
 parishioners, who desired him to give way that his child 
 might be baptized by another without the cross and god- 
 fathers, if he would not do it so himself ; both which he 
 refused : it was in the year 1672-3. ' For my part, said 
 the Doctor, I freely profess my thoughts, that the strict 
 urging of indifferent ceremonies hath done more harm 
 than good ; and, possibly, had all men been left to their 
 liberty therein, there might have been much more unity, 
 and not much less uniformity. But what power have 
 I to dispense with myself, being now under the obli- 
 gation of a law and an oath ?" And he concludes, I 
 am much grieved at the unhap;jy condition of myself 
 
THE REV. PHIUP HENRY. 
 
 147 
 
 and other ministers, who must either lose their parish- 
 ioners' love, if they do not comply with them, or else 
 break their solemn obligations to please them." 
 
 " This, he would say, was the mischief of impositions, 
 which ever were, and ever will be, bones of contention. 
 While he was at Worthenbury, though in the Lord's 
 supper he used the gesture of sitting himseli^ yet he ad- 
 ministered it without scruple to some who chose rather 
 to kneel ; and he thought that ministers' hands should 
 not, in such things, be tied up ; but that he ought, in 
 his place, though he suffered for it, to witness against 
 the making of those things the indispensable terms of 
 communion, which Jesus Christ hath not made to be so. 
 * Where the Spirit of the Lord/ and the spirit of the 
 gospel is, ' there is liberty.' 
 
 " Such as these were the reasons of his nonconformity, 
 which, as long as he lived, he was more and more con- 
 firmed in. 
 
 " His moderation in his nonconformity was very ex- 
 emplary and eminent, and had a great influence upon 
 many, to keep them from running into an uncharitable 
 and schismatical separation ; which, upon all occasions, 
 he bore his testimony against, and was very industrious 
 to stem the tide of. In church government, that which 
 he desired and wished for was Archbishop Usher's re- 
 duction of episcopacy. He thought it lawful to join in 
 the Common Prayer in public assemblies, and practised 
 accordingly, and endeavoured to satisfy others concerning 
 it. The spirit he was of was such as made him much afraid 
 of extremes, and solicitous for nothing more than to main- 
 tain and keep Christian love and charity among profes- 
 
148 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 sors. We shall meet with several instances of this in the 
 progress of his story, and therefore wave it here. I have 
 been told of an aged minister of his acquaintance, who, 
 being asked upon his deathbed, what liis thoughts were 
 of his nonconformity, replied, he was well satisfied in 
 it, and should not have conformed so far as he did, viz., 
 to join in the liturgy, if it had not been for Mr. Henry. 
 Thus was his moderation kno\vn unto all men." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 EEMOVAL TO BROAD OAK. 
 
 Philip Henby had laboured fully nine years in 
 the parish over which he was ordained to the office 
 of a minister, when the infamous Act of Uniformity 
 of Charles's restoration-government put an end to the 
 ministrations of this faithful and zealous pastor of the 
 flock. "At Michaelmas, 1662," says his son, " he quitted 
 Worthenbury, and came with his &mily to Broad Oak, 
 just nine years from his first coming into the country. 
 Being cast by Divine Providence into this new place 
 and state of life, his care and prayer was — that he 
 might have grat;e and wisdom to manage it to the 
 glory of God, which, saith he, is my chief end. Within 
 three weeks after his coming hither, his second son 
 waa bom, which we mention for the sake of the re- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 149 
 
 mark he has upon it. — We have no reason, saith he, 
 to call him Benoni, I vnsh we had none to call him 
 Ichabod. And on the day of his family-thanksgi-ving 
 for that mercy, he writes, — We have reason to rejoice 
 with trembling, for it goes ill with the church and peo- 
 ple of God, and reason to fear worse because of our own 
 sins, and our enemies' wrath." This son whose birth 
 is thus slightly noticed, was none other than the au- 
 thor of his pious father's life, the illustrious divine, 
 Matthew Henry, who was born at Broad Oak, on the 
 18th of October, 1662. 
 
 " For several years after he came to live at Broad Oak, 
 he went constantly on Lord's days to public worship, 
 with his family, at Whitewell chapel, which is hard by, 
 if there were any supply there, as sometimes there was 
 from Mai pas ; and if none, then to Tylstock, where Mr. 
 Zachary Thomas continued for about half a year, and 
 the place was a little sanctuary ; and when that failed, 
 usually to Whitchurch. He did not preach for a 
 great while, unless occasionally, when he visited his 
 friends, or to his own family on Lord's days, when the 
 weather hindered them from going abroad. He com- 
 forted himself, that sometimes in going to public worship, 
 he had au opportunity of instructing and exhorting 
 those that were in company with him, by the way, ac- 
 cording as he saw they had need ; and in this his ' lips 
 fed many,' and his ' tongue was as choice silver ; ' and he 
 acted according to that rule wliich he often laid down to 
 himself and others, — That, when we cannot do what we 
 would, we must do what we can, and the Lord will ac- 
 cept us in it. He made the best of the seraions he heard 
 
150 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 in public. — It is a mercy, saith he, we have bread, though 
 it be not, as it hath been, of the finest of the wheat. 
 Those are froward children who throw away the meat 
 they have, if it be wholesome, because they have not 
 what they would have. When he' met with preaching 
 that was weak, his note is, — That is a poor sermon in- 
 deed, out of which no good lesson may be learned. He 
 had often occasion to remember that verse of Mr. Her- 
 bert's : — 
 
 * The worst speaks something good ; if all -want sense, 
 God takes the text, and preacheth patience.' 
 
 " Such, then, were his sentiments of things, expecting 
 that God would yet open a door of return to former 
 public liberty, wliich he much desired and prayed for ; 
 and in hopes of that, he was backward to fall into the 
 stated exercise of his ministry otherwise, as were the 
 sober Nonconformists generally in those parts, but it was 
 his grief and burden that he had not an opportunity of 
 doing more for God. He had scarce one talent of 
 opportunity, but that one he was very diligent and 
 faithful in improving. When he visited his friends, 
 how did he lay out himself to do them good ! Being 
 asked once, where he made a visit, to expound and pray, 
 for which his friends returned liim thanks, he thus writes 
 upon it ; — They cannot thank me so much for my pains, 
 but I thank them more, and my Lord God especially, 
 for the opportimity. Read his conflict with himself at 
 this time ; — I own myself a minister of Christ, yet do 
 nothing as a minister. What will excuse me ? Is it 
 enough for me to say, ' Behold, I stand in the market- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 151 
 
 place, and no man hath hired me 1 ' And he comforts 
 himself with this appeal ; — Lord, thou knowest what 
 will I have to thy work, public or private, if I had a 
 call and opportunity. And shall this willing mind be 
 accepted ? Surely this is a melancholy consideration, 
 and lays great blame somewhere, that such a man as 
 Mr, Philip Henry, so well qualified with gifts and 
 graces for ministerial work, and in the prime of his 
 years for usefulness ; so sound and orthodox, so humble 
 and modest, so quiet and peaceable, so pious and blame- 
 less ; should be thrust out of the vineyard, a3 a useless 
 and unprofitable servant, and laid aside as a ' despised 
 broken vessel, and a vessel in which ther§ was no plea- 
 sure.' This is a lamentable thing ; especially, since it 
 was not his case alone, but the lot of so many hundreds 
 of the same character." 
 
 Such was the gentle, amiable, forbearing, and truly 
 tolerant character of this great and good man, this gen- 
 uine disciple of his heavenly Master, whom the blind 
 bigotry and vicious policy of Charles II., and his advisers, 
 compelled to separate from the church, thrust out from 
 the ministry, and threatened with pains and penalties, 
 with fines, imprisonments, and personal cruelty, should 
 he proclaim to his attached people that life and immor- 
 tality which is brought to light by the gospel, and which 
 so many of them had learned for the first time from his 
 lips. 
 
162 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HOSPITALITIES OF BROAD OAK 
 
 We have already described the early attachment that 
 sprung up between Philip Henry, and the daughter and 
 heiress of Mr. Matthews of Broad Oak, with their mar- 
 riage, notwithstanding the opposition of her father. Mr. 
 Matthews, as we have seen, was reconciled to their union 
 after a time, .and so wholly withdrew his unfavourable 
 regard for Henry, that he settled a considerable portion 
 of his estate on the young couple at their marriage ; and 
 on his death, a few years after, left his entire wealth to 
 the happy pair whose affections so heartily bound up in 
 each other, present to us one of the most delightful pic- 
 tures of wedded joy, and of the perfect union of kindred 
 hearts. When the edict of Bartholomew-day banished 
 Philip Henry from his pulpit and his people, the inheri- 
 tance of Broad Oak, which had thus descended to him, 
 supplied such a home as was rare indeed among the 
 ejected ministers of the restoration ; and enabled liim to 
 manifest much of that love and sympathy towards his 
 less fortunate brethren, which so entirely consisted with 
 his gentle and truly Christian character. 
 
 " There were many able ministers thereabout," says his 
 son, "turned out, both from work and subsistence, that had 
 not such comfortable support as Mr. Henry had, for whom 
 he was most affectionately concerned^ and to whom he 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 153 
 
 howed kindness. There were computed, within a few 
 niles round him, so many ministers turned out to the wide 
 vorld, stripped of all their maintenance, and exposed to 
 continual hardships, as with their wives and children, 
 laving most of them numerous families, made up above 
 1. hundred, dependant on Providence ; and, though oft 
 •educed to want and straitSj yet they were not forsaken, 
 mt were enabled to ' rejoice in the Lord, and to joy in 
 he God of their salvation,' notwithstanding. The world 
 vvas told long since, in the * Conformist's Plea,' that the 
 vorthy Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Henry's intimate friend, when 
 le was turned out of Baschurch, if lie would have con- 
 ulted with flesh and blood, having, as was said of one of 
 he martyrs, eleven good arguments against suffering, 
 a wife and ten children, was' asked how he meant 
 . maintain them all, and cheerfully replied, — They 
 must all live on the sixth of Matthew, ' Take no thought 
 for yom- life, &c.' Mr. Henry has noted concerning him 
 n his diary, some time after he was turned out, — That 
 he bore witness to the love and care of our Heavenly 
 Father, providing ^r him, and his present condition, be- 
 yond expectation. 
 
 One observation Mr. Heniy made not long before he 
 , died, — That, though many of the ejected ministers were 
 I brought very low, had many children, were greatly 
 i harassed by persecution, and their friends generally poor 
 ; and unable to support them ; yet in all his acquaintance, 
 he never knew, nor could remember to have heard of, 
 iny Nonconformist minicter in prison for debt." 
 
 To these Sir J. B. Williams has added the following 
 observations by Philip Henry, from the original papers 
 
154 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 still preserved, and many of which are now in the na- 
 tional collections among the treasures of the British 
 Museum ; — so different is the estimation of the good 
 man's memory, from that which his virtues excited 
 among the statesmen of his own day : It is obvious, 
 that at four several times, and upon four several occa- 
 sions, ministers have been silenced and turned out of 
 their places ; and yet still, after a time, more or less re- 
 stored again. 
 
 "1. In Queen Mary's days, — because they would not 
 close with Popery at the return of it. But that interdict 
 lasted under five years, being taken off upon Queen 
 Elizabeth's coming to the throne. 
 
 "2. In Queen Elizabeth's, King James's and King 
 Charles's days, — because they could not conform to the 
 hierarchy and ceremonies ; and this interdict lasted long, 
 even till the long parliament, a.d. 1640 ; but it was 
 then taken off. 
 
 " 3. Under the long parliament many ministers were 
 sequestered and silenced for malignancy, and not cove- 
 nanting. 
 
 " 4. Many others, after the King's death, for not en- 
 gaging to be true to the Commonwealth, as then estab- 
 lished ; both which restraints, though much remitted 
 before, yet quite ceased at the coming in of the King, 
 A.D." 1660. 
 
 " And now more ministers are silenced, and with more 
 severity than ever, by the Act of August 24. And who 
 among us can tell for how long ? This only I know — 
 ' He who hath delivered, doth deliver.' Script. March 
 31, 1663." 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 155 
 
 Neither the better worldly circumstances of this good 
 man, however, nor his gentle and accomodating virtues, 
 and exemplary moderation and consistency, could sliield 
 him from a share in the trials and sufferings to which 
 all conscientious Nonconformists were then exposed. 
 " In October, 1663," \NTites his son, " Mr Steel, Mr. 
 Henry, and some other of their friends, were taken up 
 and brought prisoners to Hanmer, under pretence of some 
 plot said to be on foot against the government : and there 
 they were kept under confinement some days, on which 
 he writes ; — ' It is sweet being in any condition with a 
 clear conscience. The sting of death is sin, and so 
 of imprisonment also. It is the first time I was 
 ever a prisoner, but perhaps may not be the last. We 
 felt no hardship, but we know not what we may.' They 
 were, after some days, examined by the Deputy Lieuten- 
 ants, charged with they knew not what, and so dismissed, 
 finding verbal security to be forthcoming upon twenty- 
 four hours' notice, whenever they should be called for. 
 Mr Henry returned home with thanksgivings to God, and 
 a hearty prayer for his enemies, that God would forgive 
 them. The very next day after they were released, a 
 great man in the countrj-, at whose instigation they 
 were brought into that trouble, died, as was said, of a 
 drunken surfeit.* ' So that a man shall say, — Yerily 
 there is a God that judgeth in the earth.' 
 
 " In the beginning of the year 1665, when the Act for 
 a Royal Aid, to His Majesty, of two millions and a half, 
 came out, the Commissioners for Flintshire nominated 
 
 • Sir J. E. Williams adds, among his careful annotations, that " Sir Evan 
 Lloyd, Governor of Giester, is the person here referred to. His death oo- 
 cuired, October 15, 1663." 
 
166 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Mr. Henry sub-collector of the said tax for the township 
 of Iscoyd, and Mr. Steel for the township of Hanmer. 
 They intended thereby to put an affront and disparage- 
 ment upon their ministry, and to show that they looked 
 upon them but as laymen. His note upon it is, — It is 
 not a sin which they put us upon, but it is a cross, and a 
 cross in our way, and, therefore, to be taken up and borne 
 with patience. When I had better work to do, I was 
 wanting in my duty about it, and now this is put upon 
 me ; the Lord is righteous. He procured the gathering 
 of it by others, only took account of it, and saw it duly 
 done ; and deserved, as he said he hoped he should, that 
 inscription mentioned in Suetonius, KaXtis reXcuvr^o-a'/n, 
 — To the merooi-y of an honest publican. 
 
 " In September, the same year, he was again, by war- 
 rant from the Deputy Lieutenant, brought prisoner to 
 Hanmer, as was also Mr. Steel and others. He was ex- 
 amined about private meetings. Some such, but private 
 indeed, he owned he had been present at of late, in Shrop- 
 shire, but the occasion was extraordinary ; the plague 
 was at that time raging in London, and he, and several 
 of his friends, having near relations there, thought it 
 time to seek the Lord for them, and this was imputed to 
 him as a crime. He was likewise charged with adminis- 
 tering the Lord's supper, which he denied, having never 
 administered it since he was disabled by the Act of Uni- 
 formity. After some days' confinement, seeing they could 
 prove nothing against him, he was discharged upon re- 
 cognizance of £20, with two sureties, to be forthcom- 
 ing upon notice, and to live peaceably. — But, says 
 he, our restraint was not strict, for we had liberty 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 157 
 
 of prayer and conference together, to our mutual edi- 
 fication." 
 
 These examples are sufficient to show how many har- 
 assing and cruel persecutions the faithful servants of 
 Christ were subjected to at that period. The government 
 felt that they had heaped on them grievous m-ongs, and 
 therefore reasoned from their own impure impulses that 
 the sufferers must be watching for an opportunity to be 
 avenged. To this we must ascribe, to some extent, the 
 mean jealousy which, in so many ways, manifested itself 
 in irritating persecutions of the Nonconformist clergy. Of 
 these, t]ie following are sufficiently characteristic ex- 
 amples : 
 
 " It was but a little before this, that Mr. Steel, setting 
 out for London, was, by a warrant from the justices, 
 under colour of the report of a plot, stopped and searched, 
 and, finding nothing to accuse him of, they seized his 
 almanac, in which he kept his diary for that year ; and, 
 it not being written very legibly, they made what mali- 
 cious readings and comments they pleased upon it, to his 
 great wrong and reproach ; though, to all sober and sen- 
 sible people, it discovered him to be a man that kept a 
 strict watch over liis own heart, and was a great husband 
 of his time, and many said they got good by it, and should 
 love him the better for it. This event made Mr. Henry 
 somewhat more cautious and sparing in the records of 
 his diary, when he saw how ' evil men dig up mischief.' " 
 
 The treatment of the Nonconformist ministers con- 
 tinued to be characterized by the same oppressive and most 
 junjust restraints, during the whole reign of Charles II. 
 Various successive enactments were passed, adding still 
 
158 
 
 LITE AND TIMES OP 
 
 more grievously to their burdens and restraints, and in- 
 cluding thp hearers as well as the preachers at all Non- 
 conformist assemblies within the compass of inquisitorial 
 and despotic statutes, by which they became liable to im- 
 prisonment, heavy fines, and banishment to perpetual 
 bondage in the American plantations. Nothing but the 
 diversity of sentiment among the various classes of suf- 
 ferers can account for the endurance for so long of such 
 intolerable tyranny. How mournfully must many of 
 the sufferers have looked back to the tolerance, and 
 the encouragement of virtue and piety, which the Pro- 
 tectorate government of Cromwell established and fos- 
 tered. Calamy remarks, in his " Brief History of the 
 Times :" 
 
 "The ejected ministers continued for ten years in a 
 state of silence and obscurit3^ It was their aim and en- 
 deavour to be found in the way of their duty to God and 
 the King ; but they could not be suffered to live in peace, 
 Such was the policy of the court, that they must either 
 be crushed by their fellow Protestants, or if favoured 
 with any connivance, they must have the Papists part- 
 ners with them, that so the Protestant interest might be 
 that way weakened. The Act of UnifoiTnity took place 
 August 24th, 1662. On the 26th of December follow- 
 ing, the King published a declaration, expressing his 
 purpose to grant some indulgence or liberty in religion, 
 not excluding the Papists, many of whom, he said, had 
 deserved so well of him. Some of the Nonconformists 
 were hereupon much encouraged, and waiting privately 
 on the King, had their hopes confirmed, and would have 
 persuaded their brethren to have thanked the King for 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 159 
 
 his declaration ; but they refused, lest they should make 
 way for the toleration of the Papists. The declaration 
 took not at all, either with parliament or people ; and so 
 the poor Nonconformists were exposed to great severities. 
 They who at the King's coming in were so much caressed, 
 were now treated with the utmost contempt. The 
 silenced ministers were not only forbidden to preach in 
 public, but were so carefully watched, in private, that 
 they could not meet to pray together, but it was a sedi- 
 tious conventicle. Mr. Baxter and Dr. Bates were de- 
 sired to be at Mr. Beale's, in Hatton Garden, to pray for 
 his wife, who was dangerously ill. Through some other 
 necessary occb,sions, they failed of being there, and if they 
 had not, they had been apprehended ; for two justices of 
 the peace came with a serjeant-at-arms to seize them, 
 and searched the house, and even the sick gentlewoman's 
 chamber. Many excellent ministers quickly after were 
 laid in gaols in many counties, for the heavy crime of 
 preaching and praying. 
 
 " In June, 1663, the old peaceable Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, Dr. Juxon, died, and Dr. Sheldon, Bishop of 
 London succeeded him. About that time, there was a 
 fresh report of liberty for the silenced ministers. They 
 were blamed by many, for not petitioning the parlia- 
 ■r ment, though they had reason enough against it. Many 
 ii members encouraged the expectation of either an indul- 
 i gence or a comprehension ; and it was warmly debated 
 \ which of the two would be more desirable. Some were 
 1 for petitioning for a general indulgence, but others de- 
 j clared they would suflfer any thing rather than promote 
 
160 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 " Mr. Baxter, when consulted by a person of distinction, 
 declared for a comprehension. But instead of indulgence 
 or comprehension, on the 30th of June the act against 
 private meetings, called the Conventicle Act, passed the 
 House of Commons, and soon after was made a law, viz. : 
 ' that every person above sixteen years of age, present at 
 any meeting under pretence of any exercise of religion, 
 in other manner than is the practice of the Church of 
 England, where there are five persons more than the 
 household, shall for the first offence, by a justice of peace 
 be recorded, and sent to gaol three months, till he pay 
 £5 ; and for the second offence six months, till he pay 
 £10 : and the third time, being convicted by a jury, shall 
 be banished to some of the American plantations, ex- 
 cepting New England or Virginia.' It was a great hard- 
 ship attending this act, that it gave so much power to 
 justices of the peace to record a man an ofiender without 
 a jury ; and if they did it without a cause, there was no 
 remedy, seeing every justice was made a judge. Before, 
 the dangers and sufferings lay on the ministers only, but 
 now the people also were sorely tried." 
 
 Such were the sufferings imposed by an ungodly and 
 licentious court on the most peaceable and virtuous mem- 
 bers of the community. "When we consider all that the 
 nation had undergone for the security of their just liber- 
 ties, and remember the circumstances under which 
 Charles II. was restored to the throne, it cannot admit of 
 a doubt, that the wrongs and cruelties inflicted in his 
 reign on the Nonconformists of England afitbrd an exam- 
 ple of perfidy and faithless oppression, which presents a 
 more disgraceful page of English history even than the 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY 
 
 161 
 
 dreadful era of bloody Mary's reign, when the fires of 
 Smithfield were rekindled, and the martyrs passed through 
 fiery torture to their "exceeding great reward." The 
 spirit that actuated both persecutors was the same, but 
 the narrow-minded bigotryof the daughter of Henry VIII. 
 in her fidelity to the persecuting creed of the intolerant 
 Church of Rome, is far less base than the peijury of the 
 licentious voluptuary, Charles Stuart, who had not even 
 the poor apology of fanaticism for his contempt for every 
 principle inculcated by justice or gratitude, and every 
 lesson taught him by adversity. 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 THE OXFORD ACT. 
 
 The old proverb which the sacred penman records — 
 The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth," — is illus- 
 trated in a very striking manner by the successive acts 
 enforced by the restoration-government, against the Non- 
 conformists, whom they had so cruelly wronged. The 
 scriptural maxim, "as much as in you lies, live peace- 
 ably with all men," was acted up to by these sufferers for 
 conscience' sake, under a persecution that might have 
 justified any amount of opposition. Nevertheless, the 
 government never wearied of devising fresh restraints^ 
 still more intolerable and iniquitous. 
 
 L 
 
162 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 It reflects additional infamy on the government of 
 that period, that it was the disinterested zeal and self- 
 denying courage of those faithful ministers, during a time 
 of peculiar danger, and when those who had supplanted 
 them fled in terror from the post of duty, which led to the 
 imposition of more intolerable burdens by the government. 
 They won their honours as faithful soldiers of the cross, 
 in the high places of the field ; and we doubt not they have 
 also entered on the enjoyment of that inheritance which 
 the Captain of their salvation purchased and secui'ed for 
 them with his blood. 
 
 Calamy remarks in his " Brief History of the Times :" 
 " In the year 1665, the plague broke out, which carried 
 off about 100,000 persons in the city of London. The 
 ejected ministers had till this time preached very pri- 
 vately, and but to a few ; but now, when the ministers in 
 the city churches fled, and left their flocks in the time of 
 their extremity, several of them pitying the dying and 
 distressed people,whohadnonetohelpthemto prepare for 
 another world, nor to comfort them in their terrors, 
 when about 10,000 died in a week, were convinced that 
 no obedience to the laws of man could justify their ne- 
 glecting men's souls and bodies in such extremities. 
 Thereupon, they resolved to stay with them, enter the 
 forsaken pulpits, and give them what assistance they 
 were able, under such an awakening providence ; visit 
 the sick, and get what relief they could for the poor, es- 
 pecially such as were shut up. The persons that set 
 about this work were Mr. T. Vincent, Mr. Chester, Mr. 
 Janeway, Mr. Turner, Mr. Grimes, Mr. Franklin, and 
 some others. The face of death so awakened preachers 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 163 
 
 and hearers, that the. former exceeded themselves in 
 lively fervent preaching, and the latter heard with a pe- 
 culiar ardour and attention. And through the blessing 
 of God, many were converted, and religion took such 
 hold on their hearts, that it could never afterwards be 
 loosed. 
 
 " Whilst God was consuming the people by this judg- 
 ment, and the Nonconformists were labouring to save 
 their souls, the parliament, which sat at Oxford, was 
 busy in making an act to render their case incomparably 
 harder than it was before, by putting upon them a cer- 
 tain oath, which if they refused, they must not come — 
 unless upon the road — within five miles of any city or 
 corporation, any place that sent burgesses to parliament, 
 any place where they had been ministers, or had preached 
 after the act of oblivion. The main promoters of this 
 act among the clergy were Archbishop Sheldon, and 
 Bishop Ward ; and though some vehemently opposed 
 it, the Lord Chancellor Hyde and his party carried it. 
 Wl\en this act came out, those ministers who had any 
 maintenance of then- own, found out some dwellings in 
 obscure villages, or in some few market-towns that were 
 not coi-porations. Some who had notliing, left their wives 
 md children, and hid themselves abroad, and sometimes 
 came secretly to them by night. But the most, resolved 
 to preach the more freely in cities and corporations till 
 they went to prison. Their straits w^ere great, for the 
 country was so impoverished, that those who were willing 
 bo relieve them, had generally no great ability. And 
 ^et God did mercifully provide some supplies for them ; 
 io that scai-ce any of them perished for want, or were ex- 
 
164 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 posed to sordid beggarj- ; but some few were tempted, 
 against their former judgments, to conform. The Non- 
 conformists being charged in this new act, with seditious 
 doctrines and heinous crimes, many were much con- 
 cerned ; and hereupon endeavoured to find out a sense in 
 which the oath might be taken safely, to prevent their 
 passing under that brand to posterity. Dr. Bates consulted 
 the Lord Keeper Bridgman about it ; who promised to be 
 at the next sessions, and on the bench to declare openly, 
 that by endeavour, in the oath, to change church govern- 
 ment, was meant only unlawful endeavour. Upon which 
 declaration, he and other Nonconformists, to the number 
 of twenty, took it. This year orders were sent from the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury to the several bishops of his 
 province, that they should make a return of the names 
 of all ejected Nonconformist ministers, with their places 
 of abode, and manner of life. The number of ministers 
 who were imprisoned, fined, or otherwise suflfered for 
 preaching the gospel, was very great. 
 
 " The dreadful fire in London, which happened the next 
 year, made the way of the Nonconformists plainer to 
 them. For the churches being burnt, and the parish 
 ministers gone, for want of places and maintenance 
 the people's necessity became unquestionable ; they 
 having no places to worship God in, except a few churches 
 that were left standing, which would not hold any con- 
 siderable part of them. Upon this the Nonconformists 
 opened public meeting-houses, which were very full : 
 but still agreed sometimes to communicate with the es- 
 tablished church." 
 
 The influence which these oppressive enactments ex- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 165 
 
 ercised on the subject of this memoir, is thus referred to 
 by Matthew Henry : " At Lady Day, 1 666, the Five-mile 
 Act commenced, by which all Nonconformist ministers 
 were forbidden, upon pain of six months' imprisonment, 
 to come or be within five miles of any corporation, or of 
 any place where they had been ministers, unless they 
 would take an oath ; of which Mr. Baxter remarks, it was 
 credibly reported, that the Earl of Southampton, then 
 Lord High Treasurer of England, said, no honest man 
 could take it. Mr. Henry set down his reasons against 
 taking this Oxford oath, as it was called. It was an oath, 
 not to endeavour, at any time, to alter the government, 
 in church or state. He had already taken an oath of 
 allegiance to the King, and he looked upon this as 
 amounting to an oath of allegiance to the bishops, which 
 he was not free to take. Thus he writes, March 22, 1665-6 : 
 " This day methought it was made more clear to me 
 than ever, by the hand of God upon me, and I note it 
 down, that I may remember it ; 1. That the govern- 
 ment of the church of Christ ought to be managed by the 
 ministers of Christ. It appears, Hebrews xiii. 7. that 
 they are to i-ule us w^ho speak to us the word of God. 2. 
 That under Prelacy, ministers haVe not the management 
 of church government, being only the publishers of the 
 prelate's decrees, as in excommunication, and absolution ; 
 which decrees sometimes are given forth by lay-chancel- 
 lors. 3. That, therefore. Prelacy is an usurpation in the 
 church of God, upon the crown and dignity of Jesus 
 Christ, and upon the gospel-rights of his servants the 
 ministers. And therefore, 4. I ought not to subscribe to 
 it, nor to swear not to endeavour, in all lawful ways, the 
 
166 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 alteration of it, viz. by praying and persuading, where 
 there is opportunity. But, 5. That I may safely venture 
 to suffer in the refusal of such an oath, committing my 
 soul, life, estate, liberty, all, to Him who judgeth righte- 
 ously. 
 
 " On March 25, the day when that act took place, 
 he thus writes : A sad day among poor ministers up and 
 down this nation ; who, by this act of restraint, are forced 
 to remove from among their friends, acquaintance, and 
 relations, and to sojourn among strangers. But there is 
 a God ' who tells their wanderings," and will put ' their 
 tears,' and the tears of their wives and children, ' into his 
 bottle.' Are they not in his book ? The Lord be a little 
 sanctuary to them, and a place of refuge from the storm, 
 and from the tempest, and pity those places from which 
 they are ejected, and come and dwell where they may not, 
 
 " This severe dispensation forced Mr. Steel and his 
 family from Hanmer, and so he lost the comfort of 
 . his neighbourhood ; it also drove Mr. Lawrence from 
 Baschurch to Whitchurch parish, where he continued 
 till he was driven thence also. 
 
 " Mr. Henry hoped that he might have escaped one of 
 the most oppressive requirements of this act — his house 
 at Broad Oak was but four reputed miles from the utmost 
 limits of Woi-thenbury parish, but he got it measured, 
 and accounting 1760 yards to a mile, according to the 
 Statute, 35 Eliz. cap. 6, it was found to be just five miles 
 and threescore yards, which one would tliink might have 
 been his security. But there were those near him who 
 / Nvere ready to stretch such laws to the utmost rigour, 
 under pretence of construing them in favour of the King, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 167 
 
 \nd, therefore, would have it to be understood of reputed 
 miles. This obliged him for some time to leave his family, 
 and to sojouiTi among his fiiends, to whom he endea- 
 Diired, wherever he came, to impart some spiritual gift. 
 
 last, he ventured home, presuming, among other 
 .ixings, that the warrant by which he was made collector 
 of the Royal Aid, while that continued, would secure him, 
 rding to a proviso in the last clause of the act, which, 
 . litn the gentlemen perceived, they discharged him from 
 that office, before he had served out the time. ' 
 
 " He was much affected with it, that the burning of 
 London had happened so soon after the Nonconformists 
 were banished out of it. He thought it was in mercy to 
 them, that they were removed before that desolating 
 judgment came, but that it spoke aloud to our governors, 
 — • Let my people go that they may serve me ; and if ye 
 -1 not, behold thus and thus will I do unto you.' This 
 - the Lord's voice crying in the city. 
 In the beginning of the year 1667, he removed with 
 f a mil y to Whitchurch, and dwelt there above a year, 
 -pt that for one quarter of a year, about harvest, he 
 - turned again to Broad Oak. His removal to Whit- 
 church was partly to quiet his adversaries, who were 
 ready to quarrel with him upon the Five-mile Act, 
 and partly for the benefit of the school there for his 
 children." 
 
 I While thus suffering under the wrongs so unmerit- 
 edly inflicted on these faithful ministers of Christ, 
 Mr. Henry was called upon to endure the far more try- 
 ing affliction of the loss of his first-born, John, a child 
 who is described by him as of a remarkably sweet and 
 
168 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 gentle dispositiorij exceedingly aflfectionate, and of great 
 capacity for learning. 
 
 " In April following/' says his biographer, " he buried 
 his eldest son, not quite six years old, a child of extra- 
 ordinary pregnancy and forwardness in learning, and of 
 a very towardly disposition." This, it will be readily be- 
 lieved, was a gi-eat affliction to the tender parents, and 
 none the less so, from the trying circumstances under 
 which they were then placed. 
 
 " Many years after, Mr. Henry said, he thought he did 
 apply to himself at that time, but too sensibly, that scrip- 
 ture, — 'I am the man that hath seen affliction and he 
 would say to his friends upon such occasions, — ' Losers 
 think they may have leave to speak, but they must have 
 a care what they say, lest speaking amiss to God's dis- 
 honour, they make work for repentance, and shed tears 
 that must be wept over again.' He observed concerning 
 this child, that he had always been veiy patient under 
 rebukes, the rem<»'~ . xaiice of which, he adds, teacheth 
 me now ho co cany it under the rebukes of my heavenly 
 Father. A Lord's dfiy intervening between the death 
 and burial of the chiM, — [ attended, says he, on public 
 ordinances, tliough sad in spirit, as Job, who, after all the 
 evil tidings that vrei e brought him, whereof death of 
 cliildren was the last and heaviest, yet fell down and 
 worshipped ; and he would often say upon such occa- 
 sions, that weeping must not hinder sowing. Upon the 
 interment of the child, he writes, — My dear child, now 
 mine no longer, was laid in the cold earth, not lost, but 
 soon to be raised again a glorious body ; I shall go to 
 him, but he shall not return to me. 
 
I THE REV. PHILIP HENRJ. 169 
 
 "While he lived at Whitchurch, he attended constantly 
 upon the public ministry, and there, as ever, he was care- 
 ful to come to the beginning of the service, which he at- 
 tended upon with reverence and devotion ; standing all 
 the time, even while the chapters were read. 
 Ij " In the evening of tlie Lord's day, he spent some time 
 !:in instructing his family, to which a few of his friends 
 and neighbours in the town would sometimes come in ; 
 and it was a little gleam of opportunity, but very short, 
 for, as he notes ; — He (referring to the King,) was of- 
 ifended at it, who should rather have rejoiced if, by any 
 means, the work might be carried on in his people's souls. 
 
 " This year," adds his son, " I think was the first 
 time that he administered the Lord's supper, very 
 (privately to be sure, after he was silenced by the Act of 
 I Uniformity ; and he did not do it without mature de- 
 liberation. A fe^r of separation kept him from it so long ; 
 ; what induced him to it at last, I find thus under his own 
 I hand. I am a minister of Christ, and as such I am 
 jobliged, in virtue of my office, by all means to endeavour 
 ithe good of souls. Now here is a company of serious 
 Christians, whose lot is cast to live in a parish, where 
 there is one set over them who preacheththe truth ; and 
 they come to hear him, and join with him in other parts 
 of worsliip ; only, as to the Lord's supper, they question 
 the lawfulness of the gesture of kneeling ; and he tells 
 jthem, his hands are tied, and he cannot administer it 
 unto them any other way ; wherefore they come to me, 
 and tell me, they earnestly long for that ordinance ; and 
 there is a competent number of them, and opportunity 
 to partake ; and how dare I deny this request of theirs, 
 
170 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 without betraying my ministerial trust, and incurring 
 the guilt of a grievous omission ? 
 
 "In February, 1667-8, Mr. Lawrence and he were in- 
 vited by some of their friends to Betley, in Staffordshire, 
 and (there being some little public connivance at that 
 time) with the consent of all concerned, they adventured 
 to preach in the church, one in the morning, and the 
 other in the afternoon, of the Lord's day, very peaceably 
 and profitably. This action of theirs was presently after 
 reported in the House of Commons, by a member of par- 
 liament, with these additions, — That they tore the Com- 
 mon Prayer Book, trampled the surplice under their feet, 
 pulled down the ministers of the place out of the pulpit, 
 &c. Reports which there was not the least colour for. 
 But that, with some other such-like false stories, pro- 
 duced an address of the House of Commons, urging the 
 King, to issue a proclamation for putting the laws in 
 execution against Papists and Nonconformists, wliich 
 was issued accordingly ; though the King, at the open- 
 ing of that session a little before, had declared his de- 
 sire that some course might be taken to compose the 
 minds of his Protestant subjects, in matters of religion ; 
 which had raised the expectations of many, that there 
 would be speedy enlargement ; but Mr. Henry had noted 
 upon it, — We cannot expect too little from man, nor too 
 much from God." 
 
THE REV. PHILIP EENBT. 
 
 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVm. 
 
 RETURN TO BROAD OAK 
 
 Is the year 1667, the Lord Chancellor Hyde, who had 
 been one of the most active in promoting and enforcing 
 
 ' ' the successive acts against the Nonconformists, was him- 
 self abandoned to the malice and enmity of political op- 
 ponents, and was impeached and driven into exile. This 
 was looked upon b}"^ many of the pious Nonconformist 
 aufiferers as a righteous judgment against their oppressor. 
 It was immediately felt by them as a relief, as the Duke 
 of Buckingham, who succeeded to the royal favour, con- 
 nived at the meetings of the Nonconformists, and greatly 
 relaxed the severity of the enactments under which they 
 had suffered from his predecessor. 
 
 Philip Henry lost no time in availing himself of the op- 
 portunity which this change of royal favourites seemed to 
 afford. " In May, 1668, he returned again with his family 
 
 ■ from Whitchurch to Broad Oak, which, througli the good 
 hand of his God upon him, continued his settled home, 
 without any removal from it, till he was removed to his 
 long home about twenty-eight years after. The severity of 
 the Five-mile Act began now a little to abate, at least 
 in that county ; and he was desirous to be more useful 
 to the neighbours among whom God had given Jiim an 
 estate, than he could be at a distance from them, by re- 
 
 ' iieving the poor, employing the labourers, especially in- 
 
 • structing the ignorant, and helping as many as he could 
 
172 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 to heaven. He made that scripture his standing rule, 
 and wrote it in the beginning of his book of accounts, 
 * Honour the Lord with thy substance/ &c., and having set 
 apart a day of secret prayer and humiliation, to beg of 
 God a wise and an understanding heart, and to drop a 
 tear, as he expresseth it, over the sins of his predecessors, 
 formerly in that estate, he laid out himself very much 
 in doing good. He was very seiTiceable in the neighbour- 
 hood, and though it took up a great deal of his time, and 
 hindered him from his beloved studies, yet it might be 
 said of him, as the Bishop of Salisbury says of Archbishop 
 Tillotson, in his sermon at his funeral, that he chose 
 rather to Hve to the good of others than to himself, and 
 thought, that to do an act of charity, or even of tender- 
 ness and kindness, was of more value, both in itself, and 
 in the sight of God, than to pursue the pompous parts of 
 learning, how much soever his own genius might lead 
 him to it. 
 
 "He was very useful in the common concernments of 
 the township and country, in which he was a very pru- 
 dent counsellor; it was, indeed, a narrow sphere of activity, 
 but, such as it was, to him — as to Job, — 'men gave ear 
 and waited, and kept silence at his counsel; after his 
 words they spake not again ;' and many of the neighbours 
 who respected him not as a minister, yet loved and 
 honoured him as a knowing, prudent, and humble neigh- 
 bour. In the concernments of private families, he was 
 very far from busying himself ; but he was very fre- 
 quent!^ applied to to advise many about their affairs, 
 and the disposal of themselves and their children, and in 
 arbitrating and composing differences among relations 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 173 
 
 and neighbours, in which he had an excellent faculty, 
 and often good success, inheriting the blessing entailed 
 upon the peace-makers. References have sometimes been 
 made to him by rule of court, at the assizes, with consent 
 of parties. He was very affable and easy of access, and 
 admirably patient in hearing every one's complaint, 
 which he would answer with so much prudence and mild- 
 ness, and give such apt advice, that many a time to con- 
 sult with him was to ask counsel at Abel, and so to end 
 the matter.* He observed, in almost all quarrels that 
 happened, that there was fault on both sides ; and that 
 generally they were most in the fault that were most 
 forward and clamorous in their complaints. One making 
 her moan to him of a bad husband that in this and the 
 other instance was unkind ; Sir, saith she, after along com- 
 plaint which he patiently heard, what would you have me 
 to do now ? "Why truly, saith he, I would have you to 
 go home, and be a better wife to him, and then you will 
 find that he wUl be a better husband to you. Labour- 
 ing to persuade one to forgive an injury that was done 
 hira ; he urged this, Are you not a Christian ? and fol- 
 lowed the argument so close that at last he prevailed. 
 " He was very industrious, and oft successful, in per- 
 iling people to recede ft-om their right for peace sake ; 
 and he would for that purpose tell them Luther's story 
 of the two goats, that met upon a naiTOW bridge over a 
 deep water ; they could not go back, they durst not 
 fight ; after a short parley, one of them lay dovm, and 
 let the other go over him, and no harm was done.t He 
 
 * See 2 Sam. xx. 18. 
 t The moral ia easy. Be content thy person be trodupon for peace sake. 
 Thy person, I say not thy conscience. P. Henry. Orig. MS*, as quoted by 
 
174 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 would likewise relate sometimes a remarkable story, 
 worthy to be here inserted, conceining a good friend of 
 his, Mr. T. Yates of Whitchurch, who in his youth was 
 greatly wronged by an unjust uncle of his. Being an 
 orphan, his jjortion, which was .£200, was put into the 
 hands of that uncle ; who when he grew up, shuffled 
 with him, and would give him but <£40, instead of his <£200, 
 and he had no way of recovering his right but by law ; 
 but before he would engage in that, he was willing to ad- 
 vise with his minister, who was the famous Dr. Twiss, of 
 Newbury ; the counsel he gave him, all things con- 
 sidered, was, for peace sake, and for the preventing of sin, 
 and snares, and trouble, to take the <£40, rather than 
 contend ; and Thomas, saith the Doctor, if thou dost so, 
 assure thyself, that God will make it up to thee and thme 
 some other way, and they that defraud thee will be the 
 losers by it at last. He did so, and it jdeased God so to 
 bless that little which he began the world with, that 
 when he died in a good old age, he left his son possessed 
 of some hundreds a-year ; and he that wronged him fell 
 into decay. 
 
 " He was very charitable to the poor, and was full of 
 alms-deeds, which he did, not which he said he would 
 do, or which he put others on to do, but which he did 
 himself, dispersing abroad and giving to the poor, seek- 
 ing and rejoicing in opportunities of that kind. And when- 
 ever he gave an alms for the body, he usually gave with 
 it a sph'itual alms, some good word of counsel, reproof, 
 instruction, or comfort, as there was occasion, and in ac- 
 commodating these to the persons he spoke to, he hac 
 a very great dexterity. 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 115 
 
 "He was very forward to lend money freely to any of his 
 poor neighbours that had occasion, and would sometimes 
 say, that in many cases there was more charity in lending 
 than in giving, because it obliged the borrower both to 
 honesty and industry. When one of his neighbours, to 
 whom he had lent three pounds, failed, so that he was 
 never likely to see a farthing of it, he writes thus upon 
 it ; — notwithstanding this, yet still I judge it my duty 
 TO lend, nothing despairing ; so Dr. Hammond reads it, 
 Luke vi. 35. ' Though what is lent in charity be not re- 
 ])aid, yet it is not lost. When those that had borrowed 
 money of him paid him again, he usually gave them 
 back some part, to encourage honesty. He judged the 
 vaking of moderate interest for money lawful, where the 
 borrower was in a way of gaining by it. But he would 
 advise his friends that had money rather to dispose of it 
 otiierwise if they could. 
 
 " It must not be forgotten, how punctual and exact he 
 VA-as in all his accounts with tenants, workmen, &c., being 
 always careful to keep such things in black and white, as 
 he used to say, which is the surest way to prevent mis- 
 takes, and a man's ^\Tonging either himself or his neigh- 
 bour ; such was his prudence, and such his patience and 
 peaceableness, that all the time he was at Broad Oak, he 
 never sued any, nor ever was sued, but was instrumental 
 in preventing many a vexatious law-suit among his 
 neighbours. 
 
 " He was noted for an extraordinaiy neatness and care 
 about liis house and ground, which he would often say 
 he could not endure to see like the ' field of the slothful, 
 and the vineyard of the man void of understanding.' 
 
176 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 It was strange, indeed, how easily one that had been 
 bred up utterly a stranger to such things, yet when God 
 so ordered his lot, acquainted himself with, and accom- 
 modated himself to, the affairs of the country, making 
 it the diversion of his vacant hours to oversee his gar- 
 dens and fields ; when he better understood that known 
 Epode of Horace, Beatus ille qui procul negotiis, than 
 he did when in his youth he made an ingenious transla- 
 tion of it. His care of this kind was an act of charity 
 to poor labom-ers whom he employed ; and it was a good 
 example to his neighbours, as well as for the comfort of 
 his own family. 
 
 " His house at Broad Oak was by the road side, which, 
 though it had its inconveniences, yet he often said it 
 pleased him well, because it gave his friends an oppor- 
 tunity of calling on him the oftener. 
 
 " He was a lover of good men, and such always met 
 with a cordial welcome under his roof ; so that he would 
 pleasantly say sometimes, when he had his Christian 
 fi'iends about him, he had room for twelve of them in 
 his beds, a hundred of them in his barn, and a thousand 
 of them in his heart. 
 
 " Nor was he unmindful of others ; for he spoke of it 
 with pleasure, that the situation of his house also gave 
 him an opportunity of being kind to strangers, and such 
 as were any way distressed on the road, to whom he was 
 upon all occasions cheerfully ready, fully answering the 
 apostle's character of a bishop, that he must be of good 
 behaviour, — decent, affable, and obliging, — ^and 'given 
 to hospitality ; ' like Abraham, sitting at his tent-door, 
 in quest of opportunities to do good. If he met with 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 any poor near his house, and gave them alms in money, 
 yet he would bid them go to his door besides, for relief 
 there. He was veiy tender and compassionate towards 
 y>()or strangers and travellers, though his charity and 
 idour were often imposed upon by cheats and pre- 
 lers, whom he was not apt to be suspicious of ; but 
 old say, in the most fevourable sense, *Thou knowest 
 the heart of a stranger.' If any asked liis charity, 
 -i. )se representation of their case he did not like, or who 
 he thought did amiss to take that course, he would first 
 give them an alms, and then mildly reprove them, and 
 labour to convince them that they were out of the way 
 of duty, and that they could not expect that God should 
 ^ '1' ss them in it ; and would not chide them, but reason 
 !i them. He would add, — If he should tell them 
 ■~it their faults, and not give them an alms, the reproof 
 would look only like an excuse to deny liis charity, and 
 would be rejected accordingly. 
 
 " In a word, his greatest care about the things of this 
 world was, how to do good with what he had, and to 
 ' devise liberal things ; ' desiring to make no other acces- 
 sion to his estate, but only that blessing which attends 
 beneficence. He did firmly believe, and it should seem 
 few do, that what ' is given to the poor, is lent to the 
 Lord,' who will pay it again in kind or kindness ; and 
 that religion and piety are undoubtedly the best friends 
 to outward prosperity, and he found it so ; for it pleased 
 God abundantly to bless his habitation, and to ' make a 
 hedge about liim,' and about his house, and about all 
 that he had round about. Though he did not de- 
 light himself in the abundance of wealth, yet, what is 
 
 M 
 
178 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 hx better, he delighted himself in the ' abundance oi 
 peace.' All that he had, and did, observably prospered, 
 so that the country oftentimes took notice of it ; and 
 called his family a family which the Lord had blessed. 
 
 " Having given this general account of his circum- 
 stances at Broad Oak, we shall now go on with his storj^ 
 especially as to the exercise of his ministry there, and 
 thereabouts ; for that was his work, the thing on which 
 he was set, and to which he wholly gave himself, taking 
 other things as opportunity suggested. After this settle- 
 ment at Broad Oak, whenever there was preaching at 
 Whitewell Chapel, as usually there was two Lord's days 
 in the month, he constantly attended there with his 
 fcimily, was usually among the first, and reverently joined 
 in the public service ; he diligently wrote the sermons ; 
 always stayed if the ordinance of baptism was adminis- 
 tered, but not if there was a wedding, for he thought 
 that a solemnity not proper for the Lord's day. He often 
 dined the minister that preached ; after dinner he sung 
 a psalm, recapitulated the morning sermon, and prayed ; 
 and then attended in like manner in the afternoon. In 
 the evening he preached to his own family ; and perhaps 
 two or three of his neighbours would drop in to him. On 
 those Lord's days when there was no preaching at the 
 chapel, he spent the whole day at home ; and many an 
 excellent sermon he preached, when there were present 
 only four besides his own family, and perhaps not so 
 many, according to the limitation of the Conventicle 
 Act. In these narrow private circumstances he preached 
 over the former part of the Assembly's Catechism, from 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 179 
 
 divers texts ; he also preached over Psalm cxvi., besides 
 many particular occasional subjects, 
 
 " What a grief of heart it was to him, to be thus put 
 ' under a bushel,' and confined to such a narrow sphere 
 of usefulness, read in his own words, which I shall 
 tianscribe out of an elegy he made, to give vent to his 
 thoughts, upon the death of his worthy friend, Mr. George 
 Mainwaring, some time minister of Malpas, who was 
 silenced by the Act of Uniformity, and died, March 14, 
 1669-70; wherein he thus bewails, feelingly enough, 
 the like restraints and confinements of his friend : — 
 
 " His Liter years he sadly spent, 
 Wrapt up in silence and restraint 
 A burden such as none can know, 
 But they that do it undergo. 
 To have a fire shut up and pent 
 Within the bowels, and no vent ; 
 To have gorg'd breasts, and, by a law 
 Tliose that fain would, forbid to draw. 
 But his dmnb sabbaths here, did prove 
 Load crying sabbaths In heaven above. 
 His tears, when he might sow no more. 
 Watering what he had sown before. 
 
 " Soon after Mr. Henry's settlement at Broad Oak, 
 he took a young scholar into the house with him ; partly 
 to teach his son, and partly to be a companion to him- 
 self, to converse with him and to receive help and in- 
 struction from him ; and, for many years, he was seldom 
 without one or other such ; who before their going to 
 the university, or in the intervals of their attendance 
 1] there, would be in his family, sitting under his shadow. 
 One of the first he had with him, in the year 1688, and 
 afterwards, was Mr. William Turner, born in the neigh- 
 
180 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 bourhood ; afterwards of Edmund Hall, Oxford, now Vicar 
 of Walburton, in Sussex, to whom the world is beholden 
 for that elaborate ' History of all Religions,' which he 
 published in the year 1695. Between Mr. Henry and 
 him there was a most entire and affectionate friendship ; 
 and, notwithstanding that distance of place, a constant 
 and endearing coiTespondence was kept up as long as Mr. 
 Henry lived. 
 
 Philip Henry had such regard for the university, and 
 valued so much the mighty opportunities of improvement 
 there, that he advised all his friends who designed their 
 children for scholars, to send them thither, for many 
 years after the change, though he always counted upon 
 their conformity. But long experience altered his mind 
 therein, and he chose rather to keep his own son at home 
 with him, and to give him what help he could there 
 in his education, than venture him into the snares and 
 temptations of the university. 
 
 It was also soon after this settlement of his at 
 Broad Oak, that he contracted an intimate friendship 
 with the learned, pious, and judicious Mr. Hunt of 
 Boreatton, the son of Colonel Hunt of Salop, and with 
 his excellent lady, Frances, daughter of the Right Hon. 
 the Lord Paget. The acquaintance then begun between 
 Mr. Henry and that worthy family continued to his dying 
 day, about thirty years. One Lord's day in a quarter 
 he commonly spent with them, besides other interviews. 
 And it was a constant rejoicing to him to see religion 
 and the power of godliness uppermost in such a family 
 as that, when not many mighty, not many noble are 
 called ; and the branches of it ' branches of righteousness, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 181 
 
 the planting of the Lord.' Divers of the honourable re- 
 I lations of that family," Matthew Henry adds, "con- 
 tracted a very great respect for him, particularly the 
 I present Lord Paget, his Majesty's ambassador at the 
 ; Ottoman court, and Sir Henry Ashurst, whom we shall 
 have occasion afterwards to make mention of. 
 
 " Mr. Henry' also," as Mr. Long remarks in the life of 
 . his son, " stood high in the esteem of Thomas Corbet, 
 Esq. of Stanwardine, George C\yye, Esq. of Walford, and 
 I Mr. Harris of Prescot. These gentlemen were always 
 . glad to receive him into their houses, and to attend upon 
 t his ministry whenever they had an opportunity. They 
 lived in the same parish, and though they generally fre- 
 i quented the place of public worship, where they had a 
 , sober, judicious, and peaceable minister, the Rev. Mr. 
 Hudson, yet they had often sei-mons preached in their 
 I owTi houses by the Nonconformists who lived near them, 
 t sometimes on week-days, sometimes on the Lord's day^ 
 • out of the time of public worship ; and I have often 
 ( seen some of Mr. Hudson's family, his wife and children, 
 [ present on such occasions. 
 
 i" In the time of trouble and distress by the Conventicle 
 Act, in 1670, he kept private, and stirred little abroad, 
 as loath to offend those that were in power, and judging 
 it prudence to gather in his sails Avhen the storm was 
 I violent. He then observed as that which he was trou- 
 , bled at, that there was a great deal of precious time lost 
 [among professors, when they came together, in discours- 
 |;ing on their adventures and their escapes, which he 
 ; feared tended more to set up self, than to give glory to 
 God ; also in telling how they got together, and such a 
 
182 
 
 LIFE AND- TIMES OF 
 
 one preached, but little inquiring what spiritual benefit 
 and advantage was reaped by it. We are apt," he added, 
 " to make the circumstances of our religious services more 
 the matter of our discourse than the substance of them. 
 
 "At the latter end of the year 1671, he ventured to 
 London, and the following extracts from his diary on 
 that occasion will not be uninteresting ; particularly 
 from the illustration they afford of the proceedings oi 
 the Nonconformists at this period : 
 
 "1671. August 13. Preached on Jacob's vow. Gen. 
 xxviii. 20, &c., with personal appKcation, saying, ' If God 
 will be with me in this way that I go, then the Lord shall 
 be my God.' 
 
 "14. I set forward towards London. 
 
 " 19. To Kensington. 
 
 " 22. Back to London again. 
 
 " 24. Solemn fast, in remembrance of the sad day of 
 ministers' ejection, kept at the Countess of Exeter's, with 
 some measm-e of holy meltings and enlargements. Dr. 
 Jacomb, Mr. Steel, Mr. Mayo, Mr. Bull, Mr. Poole, prayed 
 and preached alternately.' And again : 
 
 " September 2. Attempted to keep the annual fast, 
 this day, in remembrance of the dreadful fire of London. 
 A.D. 1666, but strength failed ; to will was present, to do 
 was not. Thanks is also to be given for the strange and 
 wonderful rebuilding of it in so short a time ; which, 
 but that ray eyes saw, I could hardly have believed. I 
 had the sentence of death within myself, and was, \u 
 some measure, willing to it, at that time, and in that 
 place, though a stranerer had God seen good ; but a re- 
 prieve came. 
 
j THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 183 
 
 ** 3. I should have preached and communicated with 
 Dr. Annesley, but was prevented. Time was when I 
 might and did not ; now I would, and might not, 
 
 " 7. To Islington, where was buried Mr. Burghess, a 
 Nonconformist minister of the west country ; there were 
 present one hundred or sixscore ministers ; and I bless 
 God that for one dead there were so many living. But 
 it grieved me to see them divided ; part stayed the office 
 for the dead, part going out. Here I saw Mr. Senior, 
 Mr. Bull, Mr. Rowles, former acquaintances. 
 
 "11. I saw Dean Hodges, persuading to conform, but 
 I dare not on such terms. 
 
 " 18. I reached home." 
 
 This visit to London, and an illness he had while 
 there, gave rise to a letter from his wife, which, 
 viewed as an illustration of character, is too interesting 
 to be entirely omitted. For Mr. Philip Henry, to be 
 left with Mr. Enoch Darack, at the sign of the Trumpet, 
 within Aldersgate, London." 
 
 " My Dear Husband, 
 
 I " I received your last yesterday, and 
 
 jam grieved to hear of your being ill. The children 
 , and family are well, blessed be God, and myself as well 
 I as I can be whilst in fear that you are ill. I have given 
 up all my interest in you to my heavenly Father, and am 
 I labouring to be ready for evil tidings, which if it be, God 
 knows how I shall bear it. I shall expect between hope 
 and fear till to-morrow night, and whatever the issue 
 may be, labour to justify God. Yet I hope to hear of 
 your coming, and when it will be, in your next. My 
 
184 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 dear heart, the Lord be with you, and send us a happy 
 meetuag : so prayeth your 
 
 " FaitliM and loving wife, 
 
 " Katheeinb Hesbt.*' 
 
 September 6, 167L 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE INDULGENCE 
 
 Ih the year 1672, war broke out with the Dutch, and 
 the court, while under the necessity of conciliating the 
 people, and fearful of the distractions consequent on in- 
 testine divisions at such a time, began to relax in the 
 severity of the measures against Nonconformists. No act, 
 however, was passed on their behalf, but the King, by 
 virtue of his presumed power as head of the church, sus- 
 pended the penal laws against them, and granted per- 
 mission for the erection of meeting-houses by such of the 
 ejected ministers as took out licenses. In this new 
 movement, as many suspected at the time, there was a 
 desire to afford opportunities for the Roman Catholics to 
 establish themselves, under cover of a toleration profess- 
 edly designed on behalf of the Puritan Nonconformists. 
 Nevertheless it was felt as a great boon by the latter, and 
 especially in many parts of the country, where per- 
 eonal enmity and the jealousies of landed proprietors and 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 185 
 
 country magistrates, often greatly aggravated the burden 
 of these tyrannical laws. 
 
 " Notwithstanding the severe act against conventicles 
 in the year 1670, yet the Nonconformists in London ven- 
 tured to set up meetings in 1671, and w<».ro connived at ; 
 but in the country there was little liberty taken, till the 
 King's declai-ation of March 15, 1671-2, gave counte- 
 nance and encouragement to it. What the secret springs 
 were which produced that declaration, time discovered ; 
 however, it was to the poor Dissenters as life from the 
 dead, and gave them some reviving in their bondage ; God 
 gracious!}' ordering it so, that the spirit he had made 
 might not fail before him. But so precarious a liberty 
 was it, tliat it should never be said those people were 
 hard to be pleased, who were so well pleased with that, 
 \nd thanked God, who put such a thing into the King's 
 rt. The tenor of the declaration was this, — In con- 
 ation of the inefficacy of rigour, tried for divers 
 N ears, and to invite strangers into the kingdom, while 
 ratifying the Establishment in the Church of England, 
 it suspends penal laws against all Nonconformists and 
 recusants, and promises to license separate places for 
 meetings, limiting Papists only to private houses." 
 li The remarks of Philip Henry in reference to this act 
 : of indulgence, while they strikingly illustrate his gentle 
 ^ and forbearing disposition, and the beautiful spirit of 
 Christian meekness which so eminently distinguished 
 him ; are also worthy of notice by the student of histoiy, 
 from the evidence they afford of the univei-sal prevalence 
 among the English Presbyterians, even at that late 
 period, of a desire for the establishment of their own 
 
186 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 church order and discipline, accompanied with an antici- 
 pated, if not an enforced, uniformity. 
 
 " It is," says he when writing of tlie indulgence, " a 
 thing diversely resented, as men's interests lead them ; 
 the Conformists are displeased, the Presbyterians glad, 
 the Independents very glad, and the Papists triumph. 
 The danger is lest the sanctioning of separate places of 
 worship help to overthrow our parish order, which God 
 hath owned, and beget divisions and animosities among 
 us, which no honest heart but would rather should be 
 healed. We are put herebj"-, says he, into a trilemriia, 
 either to turn Independents in practice, or strike in with 
 the Conformists, or to sit down in our former silence and 
 sufferings, (and silence he accounted one of their greatest 
 sufferings,) till the Lord shall open a more effectual door. 
 That which he then heartily wished for, was, — That 
 those who were in place would admit the sober Non- 
 conformists to preach occasionally in their pulpits; 
 by which means he thought prejudices would in time 
 wear off on both sides, and they might mutually 
 strengthen each other's hands against the common 
 enemy, — the Papists ; who he foresaw would fish best 
 in troubled waters. This he would much rather have 
 preferred than to keep a separate meeting ; but it could 
 not be had ; no, not so much as leave to preach in 
 Whitew^ell Chapel when it was vacant, as it often was, 
 though it were three long miles from the parish church. 
 He found that some people, the more they are courted, 
 the more coy they are ; however, the overtures he made 
 to this purpose, and the slow steps he took towards the set- 
 ting up of a distinct congregation, yielded him satisfiw- 
 
THE REY. PHILIP HENRY. 187 
 
 uon afterwards in the reflection, when he could say, — we 
 Ironld have been united, and they would not. 
 ! " It was several weeks after the declaration came out, 
 hat he received a license to preach, as Paul did, in his 
 )wn house, and elsewhere, no man forbidding him. This 
 vas procured for him by some of his friends in London, 
 -vithout his privity, and came to him altogether unex- 
 )ectedly." 
 
 Philip Henry's papers contain the following observa- 
 i iions on the King's declaration, which are peculiarly in- 
 ;eresting when we consider them in relation to his pre- 
 vious remarks on the indulgence, as showing how 
 strongly he clung to the idea of a church establishment, 
 md even to the recognition of the kingly authority in 
 natters ecclesiastical. In this, as in so many other in- 
 jtances in the history of the English Church, we see to 
 how great an extent the prevalence of Nonconformity is 
 iraceable to the blind intolerance of the church, rather 
 than to any disinclination to order amongst Nonconfor- 
 mists : " All or most of the Conformists have said they 
 ;ould not deny us to be ministers, but not ministers of 
 tlie Church of England, without Episcopal ordination. 
 
 By a minister of the Church of England can be 
 meant no other than a minister of Christ authorized to 
 preach in the Church of England. 
 
 " All the power to be owned in bishops, is derived to 
 them from the King ; and, in those things wherein the 
 King hath power in church matters, in those things we 
 I may obey the bishops, as his delegates and substitutes. 
 
 " In King .James's time, when four Scotch presbyters 
 were to be consecrated bishops at Lambeth, it was moved 
 
188 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 tliat they might first be ordained presbyters again ; but 
 
 it was oveiTuled, being without need. 
 
 " In our case, the King immediately, without bishops, 
 which is the better, gives us liberty, being already min- 
 iflters of Christ, to preach in his dominions where he 
 appoints. 
 
 " The law calls the King patron-general of England. 
 His appointing me to preach, supposes I must have 
 hearers, and those, of necessity, out of some parish or 
 other. What we do is to serve the present necessity, and 
 not of choice. 
 
 "There are many among us debarred by imposition 
 from communicating with freedom in public in the Lord's 
 supper ; the King takes pity upon them, authorizes one 
 or another to give it in a way wherein they are satisfied. 
 And why not ? 
 
 " The use he made of the indulgence was that what he 
 did before to his familj^ at his own house, and in private, the 
 doors being shut for fear, he now did more publicly ; 
 throwing his doors open, and welcoming his neighbours 
 to partake of his spiritual things. He had only one sermon 
 in the evening of the Lord's day, when there was preach- 
 ing at Whitewell Chapel, where he still continued his 
 attendance with his family and friends as usual ; but 
 when there was not, he spent the whole public time in 
 the services of the day, exposition of the Scriptures read, 
 and preaching, with prayer and praise. This he did 
 gratis, receiving nothing for his labours, either at home 
 or abroad, but the satisfaction of doing good to souk, 
 with the trouble and charge of giving entertainment to 
 many of his friends, which he did with much cheerful 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 189 
 
 ness ; and he would say, he sometimes thought that the 
 bread did even multiply in the breaking ; and he found 
 that God did abundantly bless his provision with that 
 blessing, which, as he used to say, will make a little 
 j go a great way. He was wont to observe, for the en- 
 ' couragement of such as had meetings in their houses, 
 ; which sometimes drew upon them inconveniences, — That 
 • the ark is a guest that always pays well for its entertain- 
 : ment. And he noted, that when Christ had borrowed 
 I Peter's boat to preach a sermon out of it, he presently 
 j repaid him for the loan with a ' gi-eat draught of fishes.' 
 j " While this liberty lasted, he preached many lectures 
 ! abroad in Shropshire, Cheshire, and Denbighshire, laying 
 I out himself exceedingly for the good of souls, spending 
 , and being spent in the work of the Lord." Yet in all his 
 labours in the cause of his Master, the spirit of meekness 
 I and love is ever apparent. He reminds us cf the beloved 
 I apostle John. The breathings of love are ever coming 
 . from his lips, and the charity that beareth all things, be- 
 I lieveth all things, hopeth all things, endure th all things, 
 , never failed him ; but made him content to be a fellow- 
 labourer even with his persecutors and supplanters, so 
 that he was only satisfied it was in the cause of truth, 
 ^ How sad is the thought that so eminent and faithful a 
 j servant of Christ should have been hindered on his great 
 I embassy. 
 
 [ " Whatever lectureships," says his son, " were set up 
 . in the country round, it was still desired that Mr. Henry 
 I would begin them, as no small encouragement to those 
 who were to carry them on ; and very happy he was, 
 I both in the choice and management of his subjects at 
 
190 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 such opportunities, seeking to find out acceptable worda 
 Take one specimen of his address, when he began a lec- 
 ture with a sermon on Hebrews xii. 15. I assure you, 
 says he, and God is my witness, I am not come to preach 
 either sedition against the peace of the state, or schism 
 against the peace of the church, by persuading you to 
 this or that opinion or party ; but as a minister of Christ, 
 that hath received mercy from the Lord, desiring to be 
 faithful, my errand is to exhort you to all possible serious- 
 ness in the great business of your eternal salvation, ac- 
 cording to my text, which if the Lord will make as pro- 
 fitable to you, as it is material and of weight in itself, 
 neither you nor I shall have cause to repent our coming 
 hither, and our being here to-day ; looking diligently, 
 lest any of you fail of the grace of God. If it were the 
 last sermon I were to preach, I do not know how to take 
 my aim better to do you good. 
 
 " In doing this work, he often said, that he looked upon 
 himself but as an assistant to the parish ministers, in 
 promoting the common interests of Christ's kingdom, and 
 the common salvation of souls, by the explication and 
 application of those great truths, wherein we are all 
 agreed. He would compare the case to that in Heze* 
 kiah's time, when the Levites helped the priests to kil 
 the sacrifice, which was something of an irregularity, but 
 the exigence of affairs called for it ; the priests being too 
 few, and some of them not so careful as they should have 
 been to sanctify themselves ; and wherever he preached, he 
 usually prayed for the parish minister, and for a blessing 
 upon his ministry. He has often said how well pleased 
 he was, when, after he had preached a lecture at Oswes- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 191 
 
 ry, he went to visit the minister of the place, Mr. Ed- 
 vards, a worthy man, and told him, he had been sowing 
 ; handful of : eed among his people. The good man's 
 inswer was : — That's well, the Lord prosper your seed 
 .nd mine too, there is need enough of us both. 
 
 " It was at the beginning of this liberty, that the 
 iociety at Broad Oak commenced ; made up, besides their 
 neighbourhood, of some out of Whitchurch, and Whit- 
 .3hurch parish, that had been Mr. Porter's people, some 
 Dut of Hanmer parish, that had been Mr. Steel's, and 
 isome out of the parish<»s of "Wem, Frees, and Ellesmere. 
 Persons generally of very moderate principles, quiet and 
 peaceable lives, and hearty well-wishers to the King and 
 government ; and not rigid or schismatical in their se- 
 paration, but willing to attend though sometimes with 
 difficulty and hazard, upon those administrations which 
 they found most lively and edifying, and most helpful to 
 ithera, in the great business of working out their salvation. 
 iTo this society he would never call himself a pastor, nor 
 jwas he willing that they should call him so; but a helper, 
 land a minister of Christ for their good. He would say, 
 j — That he looked upon liis family only as his charge, and 
 Ihis preaching to others was but accidental, whom if they 
 came, he could no more turn away, than he could a poor 
 hungry man, that should come to his door for an alms. 
 And being a minister of Jesus Christ, he thought him- 
 iself bound to preach the gospel, as he had opportunity. 
 I "Usually once a month he administered the ordinance 
 !of the Lord's supper. Some of his opportunities of that 
 'kind he particularly remarks upon, as sweet sealing days, 
 on which he found it good to draw near to God. 
 
192 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 " When, about the year's end, there was a general ex- 
 pectation of the cancelling of the indulgence, he has this 
 note upon a precious sabbath and sacrament day, as he 
 calls it; — 'Perhaps this maybe the last; Father, thy 
 will be done ; it is good for us to be at such uncertain- 
 ties; for now we receive our liberty from our Father 
 fresh every day, which is best and sweetest of all.' 
 
 " In the spring and summer of 1673, he preached at 
 Broad Oak, on the parable of the prodigal son, in about 
 forty sermons. Many who got good to their souls by 
 those sermons, earnestly desired the publishing of them, 
 and he was almost persuaded ; but his modesty proved in- 
 vincible, and it was never done. 
 
 " When an end was put to that gleam of liberty, which 
 had continued about three years, he was preaching upon 
 the parable of the barren fig-tree, ' These three years do 
 I come seeking fruit,' and observed how the word of God 
 was fulfilled, — though not cut down, yet cut short, — ^in 
 opportunities." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 TITUS GATES AND THE POPISH PLOTS. 
 
 The history of Nonconformists during the reign of 
 Charles IL, is characterized by constant intermissions of 
 hope and fear, dependent on the faithless pusillanimity 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 193 
 
 of his corrupt court. Sometimes the influence of the Duke 
 of York, afterwards James II., was employed to lighten 
 the burden of these oppressive enactments, against the 
 Protestant Dissenters, in order that the Romish Church 
 might avail itself of the toleration to secure a firmer 
 basis in the land. At other times, the opposition of parlia- 
 ment, or the fears of the government, led to some attempts 
 at conciliating the numerous body of Nonconformists 
 throughout the kingdom. But in all these instances 
 of relaxed severity the Dissenters from the established 
 creed were left entirely dependent on the caprice of the 
 court, and without any sufficient or trust-worthy legal 
 security for peace and toleration. 
 
 In 1674, Charles summoned the bishops together to 
 advise with him as to the best means for giving security 
 to religion, and after various consultations with them, 
 and with the ministers of state, the result was that all 
 licenses granted to the Nonconformist ministers were de- 
 clared void, and the laws were ordered to be enforced with 
 the utmost rigour 'against Papists and conventicles." 
 The following year the pious men among the clergy of 
 tlie Church of England were excited to great apprehen- 
 sions of the danger of Popery, and the manifest advances 
 it was making under favour of the partiality of the Duke 
 of York, and the ill-concealed inclinations of the King. 
 Bishop Morley and Bishop Ward were particularly de- 
 sirous of bringing about a reconciliation with the Noncon- 
 formists, and at length Dr. Tillotson and Dr. Stillingfleet 
 !had a meeting with several of their leading ministers in 
 'London, and went so far as to draw^ up an agreement of 
 mutual co-operation, in which they heartily concurred; but 
 
194 
 
 LIFE AHD TIMES OF 
 
 the influence of the court and the high-church party 
 eflfectually prevented it leading to any good result. 
 
 On the failure of this attempted reconciliation, persecu- 
 tion broke out anewagainst the Nonconformists, especially 
 in London, and many men of infamous lives made a 
 trade of hunting out their meetings and informing against 
 them. Popular feeling, however, no longer sided with 
 the restoration-government. The aldermen of the city 
 in every way discouraged these informers, frequently re- 
 fusing their warrants, or getting out of the way when 
 they learned of their intention to apply to them. On one 
 occasion when several of the bishops were dining with 
 Sir Nathaniel Hern, who was Sheriff of London in 1676, 
 and some of them remarked on the necessity of en- 
 forcing the laws against Dissent ; The Sheriff replied, 
 '•'that they could not trade with their neighbours one 
 day, and send them to jail the next." Popular feehng 
 it is obvious was fast forsaking the restoration-govern- 
 ment, whose glitter and fair words had won its suffrages 
 for a time, and was once more enlisting itself on the side 
 of those who were sufferers for conscience' sake. 
 
 The same influence began to show itself throughout 
 the country, and was soon felt and taken advantage of 
 by Philip Henry ; his son after alluding to an interval 
 ofthree years during which hisfather had enjoyed consider- 
 able liberty, but which was put an end to about the year 
 1764, remarks : " However, after ayear or two, there was 
 such a general connivance of authority, that the meet- 
 ings grew again as full as ever, especially at Broad Oak; 
 the neighbouring magistrates of Flintshire being very 
 civil, and not willing to give trouble to one who was so 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 195 
 
 • ery peaceable and obliging, — for which he would often 
 ;ive thanks to God, who hath the hearts of all men in his 
 lands. 
 
 ' " On the 3d of March, 1676-7, being Saturday night, 
 ihe town of Wem, in Shropshire, about six miles from 
 'Broad Oak, was burnt down, the church, market-house, 
 ind about one hundred and twenty-six dwelling-houses, 
 'ind one man killed in little more than an hour's time, 
 ',he wind being exceedingly violent ; at which time Mr. 
 •Henry was very helpful to his friends there, both for 
 ';heir support, and their improvement of this sad provi- 
 'lence. Only about half a year before, a threatening 
 pre had broken out in that town, but did little hurt, 
 Some serious people there," says his son, " soon after cele- 
 arated a thanksgiving for their deliverance, on which 
 occasion Mr. Henry preached to them from the words of 
 iZechariah. ' Is not this a brand plucked out of the fire V 
 in the close of that sermon, pressing them, from the 
 consideration of that remarkable deliverance, to personal 
 reformation and amendment of life ; that those who had 
 been proud, covetous, passionate, liars, swearers, drunkards, 
 'sabbath-breakers, would be so no more ; he added, — If 
 this providence have not this effect upon you, you may 
 In reason expect another fire ; for when God judgeth he 
 will overcome ; and reminded them where it is so often 
 threatened against those who walk contrary to God, that 
 '■ he would punish them yet seven times more.' The re- 
 membrance of this could not but be affecting, when, in 
 iso short a time after, the whole town was laid in ruins. 
 The first time he went thither after that calamity, a 
 leighbouring justice, having notice of it, sent to forbid 
 
196 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 him to preach, to his own grief^ as well as to the grief of 
 many others, who came expecting. But, saith he in 
 his diarj^, there was a visible sermon before us, the ruins 
 preaching, that sin is an evil thing, and God a terrible 
 God. However, Philip Henry was peculiarily earnest 
 in his desire to turn to account every striking instance 
 of ' the goodness and the severity of God,' and a few days 
 after he found opportunity of preaching to them from 
 Hosea vi. 1. — ' Come, and let us return unto the Lord, 
 
 for he hath torn '. And at the return of the year, 
 
 when the town was rebuilding, he gave them another very 
 suitable sermon, from Proverbs iii. 33. ' The curse of the 
 Lord is in the house of the wicked, but he blesseth the 
 habitation of the just.' Though it be rising again, he 
 adds in his diary, out of its ashes, yet the burning of it 
 should not be forgotten." 
 
 Soon after tliis, the whole nation was thrown into con- 
 sternation and alarm, by the discovery of the Popish 
 Plot, in the trials resulting fi-om which, Titus Gates ac- 
 quired such infamous notoriety. Gates was the son of a 
 ribbon weaver who had been at one time a preacher atoong 
 the Baptists. He was educated at Mgrcliant Taylors 
 School, London, and at the University of Caipbridge, and 
 took orders in the Church of England. He subsequently 
 turned Roman Catholic, and entered the Jesuits' College 
 at St. Gmer. From thence he was dismissed ; and re- 
 turning to England, he proceeded to turn the knowledge 
 he had acquired among them to the best account for him- 
 self by informing against them. " In September, 1678, 
 he made a disclosure before Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, 
 a noted and active justice of the peace, and afterwards 
 
I THE REV. PHILIP HENRT 197 
 
 before tlie council and the House of Commons, to the 
 eflfect ' that the Pope felt himself entitled to the posses- 
 sion of England and Ireland, on account of the heresy of 
 prince and people, and had accordingly assumed the so- 
 vereignty of these kingdoms ; that power to govern thnn 
 had been delegated by the Pope to the society of Jesuit-, 
 who, through Oliva, the general of their order, had issued 
 commissions appointing various persons whom they could 
 trust to the chief ofl&ces of state, both civil and military. 
 Lord Arundel, he said, was to be chancellor*; Lord Powis, 
 I treasurer; Lord Bellasis, general of the papal army; 
 ' Lord Stafford, paymaster ; Sir William Godolphin, privy 
 ' seal ; and Coleman, secretary of state. All the dignities 
 too of the church, he alleged to be newly approprl- 
 ' ate.d, and many of them to Spaniards ^d other foreigners, 
 i Two men named Grove and Pickering, he declared, were 
 ' hired to shoot the King, and that Sir George Wakeman, 
 ■ the Queen's physician, had engaged to poison him, the 
 ' Queen herself being privy to the scheme. He also stated 
 I that the Roman Catholics were to rise in different dis- 
 ! tricts of the kingdom, and tiiat every means would be 
 adopted for the extirpation of Protestantism.' His evi- 
 dence was confii-med by two men named Tonge and 
 ' Bedloe, especially the latter, a man of low extraction, 
 ' and bad reputation. (For Tonge see Evelyn's Memoirs, 
 • 8vo, vol. ii. p. 450 ; for Bedloe, Lingard, vol. xiii. p. 97, 
 ' and Hume.) For the list of persons, both Jesuits and 
 men of importance in this kingdom who suffered im- 
 prisonment and execution through the accusation of 
 Gates, we must refer to the general liistories of the time. 
 " Notwithstanding the almost universal credence which 
 
198 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 was given to him at the time, it has subsequently been 
 placed beyond doubt that the plot which Gates pretended 
 to reveal was an infamous and perjured fabrication. His 
 circumstances, his character, the nature of his evidence, 
 the manner of its production, not at one time, but at 
 several times, though he had previously professed to 
 have told all that he knew, the mode in which the first 
 disclosure was made, together with his inconsistency and 
 errors, evidently betray imposture. ' While in Spain, he 
 had been caified, he said, to Don John, who promised 
 great assistance to the execution of the Roman Catholic 
 designs. The King asked him what sor^ of a man Don 
 John was ? He answered, a tall, lean man ; directly 
 contrary to the truth, as the King well knew. He totally 
 mistook the situation of the Jesuits' College at Pai-is. 
 Though he pretended great intimac}" with Coleman, he 
 did not know him when placed very near liim, and 
 had no other excuse than that his siglit was bad in 
 candle-light.' He also fell into other errors. We 
 mention these particular proofs of falsehood, but little 
 reliance can be placed on the evidence of a man who, if 
 his word was to be believedj had entered the Jesuits' 
 society with the sole purpose of ' gaining their secrets in 
 order to beti-ay them.' 
 
 " It may be urged, that the universal credit given to 
 Gates's evidence at the time is a strong proof that his 
 story was true. There are circumstances however which 
 account for the ready belief with which his accusations 
 were received, although they do not prove their truth. 
 
 "The Enghsh Protestants had long apprehended 
 an attempt on the part of the Roman Catholics to 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 199 
 
 restore their religion and re-establish their power ; and 
 their anxiety on this account had latterly been aug- 
 mented in some degree by the conduct of the King, and 
 in a still greater degree by the Duke of York's open pro- 
 i fession of the old religion and his attachment to its 
 I adherents. Moreover, there were immediately connected 
 ; with Oates's disclosure two events, giving it an appar- 
 I ent corroboration, which was eagerly assumed to be real 
 by the feverish minds of contemporary partizans. The 
 I first of these was the sudden and violent death of Sir 
 . Edmundbury Godfrej'', the magistrate who had taken 
 Oates's depositions, No proofs could be adduced to show 
 the manner of his death. Whether he committed suicide 
 or was murdered has never been ascertained ; but the 
 fact that he had ta,ken Oates's evidence, and had been 
 active in searching out the supposed plot, was sufficient 
 to convince the Protestants, excited as they then were, 
 that he had been murdered by Roman Catholics, partly 
 out of revenge, and partly to aid the escape of their con- 
 spirators. The second apparent coiToboration of Oates's 
 evidence, which, though no real confirmation, had at the 
 time an influence in maintaining its credibility, is, 
 that it did actually lead to the discovery of a plot, 
 though not sucli a plot as he disclosed. * Oates 
 denounced Coleman, the secretary of the Duchess of 
 York ; and upon searching his house there were found, 
 among his correspondence with Pere la Chaise, papers 
 whicli proved a combination for the purpose of re-esta- 
 blishing Roman Catholicism in England. That it was a 
 plot, that it was on the part of the Roman Catholics, and 
 * Hallam, Const Hist iL p. 571. 
 
200 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 discorered tlirougn Gates, was suflBcient in the then 
 temper of Protestants, to reflect credit on his disclosures, 
 though Coleman's plans did not coincide with the 
 schemes which Gates pretended to have discovered,"* 
 
 While the influence of this ill-regulated zeal against 
 Popery lasted, it stayed the persecution against the Non- 
 conformists, and verj"^ great exertions were made, hoth in 
 and out of parliament, to secure the Protestant religion 
 from further encroachments, by excluding the Duke of 
 York from the throne, on account of liis adherence to 
 Popery. During this interval of toleration, or oversight 
 of Nonconformity, Philip Henry renewed his ministra- 
 tions at Broad Gak with great zeal, and with much suc- 
 cess. In particular, he preached a series of sermons on 
 the Ten Commandments, with much good fruit attending 
 on his labours. Yet he was never betrayed into too great 
 confidence for the future by these passing gleams of 
 liberty. Preaching at this time from the divine exhor- 
 tation, " Be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only," 
 he pressed on his hearers " the necessity of doing as well 
 as hearing ; from the divine assurance, that a stormy day 
 is coming shortly, when hearers only will be found fools, 
 and suffer loss ; whereas hearers and doers will be owned 
 for wise people, and will have the comfort of it. What 
 work, he remarks, some one will object, is here about doing, 
 doing ! If I had preached, he proceeds, these sermons, 
 I know where, I had certainly been called a legal preacher, 
 if not a Papist, a Jesuit, a preacher of works ; and some 
 would have said. We will never hear him again. If to 
 preach on these things be legal preaching, then our Lord 
 • Penny Cyclopaedia, article Oates. 
 
I THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 201 
 
 dimself was a legal preacher, for you see they were his 
 sayings all along that I took for my text to each sermon. 
 3uch a preacher as he was, may I be, in my poor mea- 
 sure. I cannot write after a better copy. I cannot tread 
 in better steps. His sayings must be done, as well as 
 heard, that we may answer his end in saying them, which 
 was to promote holiness ; that we may approve ourselves 
 his true kindred ; that God may be glorified ; that our 
 profession may be beautified ; and that our building may 
 stand. But they must be done aright. The tree must 
 be good. All must be done by faith, and in the name of 
 the Lord Jesus, with evenness and constancy, with hu- 
 mility and self-denial, in charity, and.with perseverance 
 and continuance." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 JUDGE JEFFRIES AND THE BISHOP OF ST. ASAPH. 
 
 While the political changes of the period, and the 
 vices and apprehensions of the court, were influencing 
 the fortunes and happiness of the affectionate family- 
 ' circle at Broad Oak, the children who had been bom 
 there, were growing up under their parents' eyes, " in 
 wisdom and stature." In the year 1680, when Matthew, 
 t the biographer, and eminently distinguished inheritor of 
 Philip Henry's piety and genius, had nearly completed his 
 eighteenth year, his father took him to London, and en- 
 
202 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 tered him as a pupil under the care of Mr. Thomas Doo- 
 little, a pious Nonconformist minister, who then kept a 
 school at Islington. The following extract from a letter 
 written by Matthew Henry to his sisters, soon after his 
 arrival in London, affords an interesting glimpse of the 
 Nonconformist meetings in the capital at that period : 
 while it gives us some idea of the lively and intelligent 
 youth, who afterwards became so eminent a Christian 
 minister : 
 
 " On Saturday my father went to Islington, and I went 
 to cousin Hotchkiss and Mr. Church's. Mr. Church came 
 with us to see first Bedlam and then the monument. The 
 monument is almost like a spire steeple, set up in the 
 place where the great fire began. It is 345 steps high, 
 and thence we had a sight of the whole city. Yesterday 
 we went to j\Ir. Doolittle's meeting-place ; his church I 
 may call it, for I believe there is many a church that 
 wiU not hold so many people. There are several gal- 
 leries ; it is all pewed ; and a brave pulpit, a great height 
 above the people. They began between nine and ten in 
 the morning, and after the singing of a psalm, ]Mr. Doo- 
 little first prayed and then preached, and that was alL 
 His text was Jer. xvii. 9. In the afternoon my father 
 preached on Lam. iii. 22, at the same place. Indeed, 
 Mr. Lawrence told him at first he must not come to 
 London to be idle, and they are resolved he shall not ; 
 for he is to preach the two next sabbaths I believe, 
 at Mr. Steel's and Mr. Lawrence's. On Sabbath night, 
 about five o'clock, cousin Robert and I went to another 
 place and he^ird, I cannot say another sermon, but a 
 piece of another, by a very young man, one Mr. Shower, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 203 
 
 and a most excellent sermon it was, on the evil of sin. 
 The truth was, we could scarce get any room, it was 
 so crowded." 
 
 Soon after his father's return home, considerable 
 ,anxiety appears to have been occasioned by the indispo- 
 sition of young Matthew, as appears from the foliowinff 
 jletters, the first of which is written by Philip Ileniy to 
 Jliis son. The one which follows it appears to have been 
 Iwritten to a relation who had taken some charge of 
 iMatthew. It is also interesting as serving to throw^ some 
 |light on the transactions of the period. He thus writes 
 jto his son ; — 
 
 " My deak Child, 
 
 '•Your letter to mc I received, and your 
 mother also hers. In the former, an account of 
 >-our being busy, at which we were glad ; in the 
 latter, of your being not well, and that troubles us ; 
 but we are in hope, that this night's post will bring 
 us better tidings. I am at Boreatton, wdiere I expected 
 yom- mother this morning, as we appointed, but, instead 
 :>f coming herself, she sends Roger with your two let- 
 ters, and her desire to me to answer them from hence by 
 way of Shrewsbury. My Lord Paget intended to have 
 
 I week sooner than I expected, and caused a failure at 
 home yesterday, no chapel-day ; but his stay, now, is 
 |till next week. I am comforted, that you acknowledge 
 pod in your distemper, and are prepared to receive with 
 ipatience what he appoints. Though you are at a dis- 
 ^nce from us you are near to Him, wdio, according to 
 ^ ^is promise, is a present help to those that fear him, in 
 
 ii 
 
204 
 
 UPB AND TIMES OP 
 
 every time of need. Commend us to Mr. Doolittle, and 
 his wife, whose tender love to you, and care concerning 
 you, we shall always acknowledge with all thankfulness ; 
 also to Cousin Robert, w^ho, I know, will help to bear 
 your burden. The Lord Almighty bless you, my dear 
 child, and cause his face to shine upon you, and send us 
 good news in your next concerning you. Amen. This 
 from 
 
 " Your loving father, 
 
 « P. H." 
 
 August 16, 1680. 
 
 The following are portions of a letter written about 
 the same time to Mr. Robert Rosier, the same who is 
 alluded to as Cousin Robert, in the previous letter. The 
 affectionate display of parental solicitude, mingled with 
 Christian resignation, which it exhibits, is strikingly 
 characteristic of its author : — 
 
 " Dear Cousin, 
 
 " I received yours of August 24 ; the former part 
 whereof, which was concerning yourself, gave cause 
 for a great deal of joy and thankfulness to our good 
 God, that you are so w^ell pleased in your present 
 circumstances of improvement ; and, I hope, will be so 
 more and more. I pray, be careful, in a special man- 
 ner, about secret communion ; for, you know, as that 
 is kept up, or falls, accordingly the soul prospers. Do 
 not over-tire yourself with study, especially by candle ; 
 fair and softly goes far. Though you do well to bewail 
 your loss of precious time, yet, blessed be God for what 
 you have redeemed ; and, though it is true, as things 
 are with you, now is your time, if ever, to be busy ; yet 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 206 
 
 health and strength must be considered, and nothing 
 done to over-drive. 
 
 " The latter part of your letter, which was concerning 
 Matthew, gave us some*trouble, yet I thank you that 
 you were so large and particular in it. We have freely 
 yielded him up, and our interest in him, as well as we 
 can, to our heavenly Father ; and his will be done ! I 
 have written to him, as you will see, — if he be willing 
 and able, and there be cause, "with advice of friends, — 
 to hasten home ; and, if he must so leave you, it will be 
 an instance, — that man purposes, but God disposes. 
 
 " Present my dear love and respects to Mr. Doolittle, 
 and to his wife, to whom I am much obliged for their 
 kindness, which I shall ever acknowledge, whatever the 
 event be. Fail not to wi-ite as there may be occasion. 
 Here is room only to tell you, that we are all remem- 
 bered to you ; and, particularly, that I am, 
 " Your true friend, 
 
 "P. H. 
 
 " This was intended for the superscription, but the 
 paper being thin, I chose to enclose it. My two last 
 sabbaths' absence hence, so quickly after the former 
 three at London, though I designed it not, hath caused 
 reports, as if we had quite done, but I hope it is not so. 
 To-morrow, God willing, we shall set the plough in again, 
 begging of God, that late intermissions may quicken 
 desires, and make the word so much the sweeter. Con- 
 cerning Matthew, I know not what to say more than I 
 have said. The Lord prepare and fit us for evil tidings ? 
 I y^-Hl not say, * our life is bound up in the life of the 
 lad,' but much of the comfort of our life is ; and yet, 
 
206 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 Father, ' thy will be done ! ' Our cisterns may, and will, 
 dry up, first or last, but our Fountain remains for ever." 
 
 " In the beginning of the year 1681, in April and May, 
 the country was greatly afflicted and threatened by an 
 extreme drought ; there was no rain for several weeks, 
 and the grass failed. Com, that was sown, languished ; 
 and much that was intended could not be sown. The 
 like had not been known for many years. It was gener- 
 ally apprehended that dearth would ensue, especially in 
 that country, which is for the most part dry. Several 
 serious people being together at this time, attending the 
 funeral of a worthy minister of Jesus Christ, Mr. Maiden, 
 it was remarked, how requis te it was that there should 
 be some time set apart for fasting and prayer on this oc- 
 casion. Thomas Millington, of Weston, in Hodnet 
 parish, in Shropshire, desired it might bo at his house ; 
 and a day was named for the meeting. The connivance 
 of autliority was presumed upon, because no disturbance 
 of meetings was heard of at London, or anywhere else. 
 Mr. Henry was desired to come and give his assistance. 
 He asked upon what terms they stoo<l with their neigh- 
 bouring justices, and was answered, — 'Well enough.' 
 The drought continuing in extremity, some that had not 
 used to attend such meetings, came thither, from the ap- 
 prehension they had of the threatening judgment which 
 the country was under. Mr. Edward Bury, of Bolas, 
 well known by several useful books he published, prayed ; 
 after which Mr Henry prayed, and preached on Psalm 
 Ixvi. 18. — ' If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord 
 will not hear me ; ' whence his doctrine was, — That ini- 
 quity, regarded in the heart, will certainly spoil the suo- 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 207 
 
 .'^ess of prayer. When he v/as in the midst of his ser- 
 mon, closely applying this truth, Sir Thomas Vernon, of 
 Hodnet, and Mr. Mainwaring, of Ightfield, two justices 
 of the peace for Shropshbe, with several others of their 
 retinue, came suddenly upon them ; disturbed them, set 
 guards upon the house-door, and came in themselves. 
 They severely rallied all they knew, reflected upon the 
 late House of Commons, and the vote they passed con- 
 cerning the unseasonableness of putting the laws in exe- 
 cution against Protestant Dissentei-s, as if, in so voting, 
 they had acted beyond their sphere, as they did who 
 took away the life of King Charles I. They diverted 
 themselves with very abusive and unbecoming talk ; 
 sweai'ing, and cursing, and reviling bitterly. Being told 
 the occ^ion of the meeting was to ' seek to turn away 
 the anger of God from us ' in the present drought, it was 
 answered ; — ' Such meetings as these were the cause of 
 God's anger.' While they were thus entertaining them- 
 selves, their clerks took the names of those that were 
 present, in all, about one hundred and fifty, and so dis- 
 missed them for the present. Mr Heniy has noted, in 
 the account he kept of this event, that the justices came 
 to this good work from the ale-house upon Frees Heath, 
 about two miles off : to which, and the bowling-gi-een 
 adjoining, they, with other justices, gentlemen, and 
 clergj-men, of the neighbourhood, had long before obliged 
 themselves to come every Tuesday, dming the summer 
 time, under the penalty of twelvepence a time if they 
 were absent ; and there to spend the day in drinking and 
 bowling ; which is thought to be as direct a violation of 
 the law of the land ; viz. the statute of 33d Henry VIIL 
 
208 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 cap. 9. * for debarring unlawful games,' which was never 
 yet repealed, as the meeting was of the statute of 22d 
 Car. II. ; and, as much more to the dishonour of God, 
 and the scandal of the Christian profession, as cursing, 
 and swearing, and drunkenness, are worse than praying, 
 and singing psalms, and hearing the word of God. It is 
 supposed the justices knew of the meeting, and might 
 have prevented it by the least intimation ; but they were 
 willing to take the opportunity of making sport to tbem- 
 selves, and trouble to their neighbours. After this feat 
 done, they returned back to the ale-house, and made 
 themselves and their companions merry with calling over 
 the names they had taken, making their reflections as 
 they saw cause, and recounting the particulars of the ex 
 ploit. There was one of the company, whose wife hap- 
 pened to be present at the meeting, and her name taken 
 among the rest ; and when they upbraided him with it, 
 he answered, that she had been better employed than he 
 was, and if Mr. Henry might be admitted to preach in a 
 church, he would go a great many miles to hear him. 
 For these words he was forthwith expelled their com- 
 pany, nevermore to show his face at that bowling-gi-een ; 
 to which he replied, — if they had so ordered long ago, it 
 had been a great deal better for him and his family. 
 Two days after they met again at Hodnet, where, upon 
 the oath of two witnesses, who, as was supposed, were 
 sent on purpose to inform, they signed and sealed two 
 records of conviction. By one record, they convicted the 
 master of the house, and fined him £20, and £5 more as 
 constable of the town that year ; and, with him, all the 
 persons present, whoso names they had taken^ and fined 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 209 
 
 them 5s. a piece, and issued out warrants accordingly. 
 By another record, they convicted the two ministers, Mr. 
 Bury and Mr. Henry. The act makes it only punish- 
 able to preach, or teach, in any such conventicle ; and 
 yet they fined Mr. Bury £20, though he only prayed, and 
 did not speak one word in the way either of preaching 
 or teaching, not so much as, — ' Let us pray ; ' however, 
 they said, ' Praying was teaching and, right or wrong, 
 he must be fined ; though his gi-eat piety, peaceableness, 
 and usefulness, besides his deep poverty, one would 
 think, might have pleaded for him, against so palpable a 
 piece of injustice. They took £l off his fine, and laid 
 it upon others, as they saw cause ; and, for the remain- 
 ing <£l3, he being utterly unable to pay it, they took 
 from him, by distress, the bed which he lay upon, with 
 blanket and rug ; also, another feather-bed, nineteen 
 >air of sheets, most of them new ; of which he could not 
 
 '. ail to have so much as one pair returned for him to 
 Lie in ; also, books, to the value of £5, besides brass and 
 pewter. And, though he was at this time perfectly in- 
 nocent of that heinous crime of preaching and teaching, 
 with which he was charged, yet he had no way to right 
 Jlimself, but by appealing to the justices themselves in 
 quarter sessions, who would be sure to affirm their owti 
 decree, as the justices in Montgomeryshire had done not 
 long before in a like case, especially when it was to re- 
 cover to themselves treble costs. So the good man sat 
 down with his loss, and ' took joyfully the spoiling of his 
 goods;' knowing in himself, that he had, 'in heaven, a 
 better and a more enduring substance.' 
 
 " But Mr. Henry being the greatest criminal, and hav- 
 
210 
 
 ATO TIMES OP 
 
 ing done the most miscliief, must needs be animadverted 
 upon accordingly ; and, therefore he was fined £40 • 
 the pretence of which was this : In the year 1679, Octo- 
 ber 15, Mr. Kynaston, of Oatly^ a justice of peace in 
 Shropshire, meeting him and some others coming, as he 
 supposed, from a conventicle, he was pleased to record 
 their conviction, upon the notorious e\'idence and cir- 
 cumstances of the fact. The record was filed at Sal(^ 
 the next sessions after, but no notice was ever sent of it, 
 either to Mr. Henrj', or the justices of Flintshire ; nor 
 any prosecution upon it, against any of the parties 
 charged ; (the reason of which, Mr. Henry, in a narra- 
 tive he wrote of this affair, supposes to be not only the 
 then favourable posture of public affairs towards Dissen- 
 ters, but also the particular prudence and lenity of Mr. 
 Kynaston ;) so that, having never smarted for this, he 
 could not be supposed to be deterred from the like of- 
 fence ; nor, if he were wTong in that first conviction, had 
 he ever any opportunity of making his appeal. How- 
 ever, the justices, being bent on treating him with the 
 utmost severity, thought that first record suflScient to 
 give denomination to a second offence, and so he came to 
 be fined double. This conv iction, according to the di- 
 rection of the act, they certified, to the next adjoining 
 justices of Flintshire, who had all along carried them- 
 selves with great temper and moderation towards Mr. 
 Henr^', and had never given him any disturbance ; 
 though, if they had been so minded, they had not wanted 
 opportunities : but they were now compelled to execute 
 the sentences of the Shropshire justices. It was much 
 pressed upon him to pay the fine, which might prevent 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 211 
 
 his own loss and the justices' trouble. But he was not 
 willing to do it, partly, because he would give no en- 
 couragement to such prosecutions, nor voluntarily re- 
 ward the informers for that which he thought they 
 
 [ should rather be punished for ; and partly because he 
 
 . thought himself wronged in the doubling of the fine. 
 
 , Whereupon his goods were distrained and carried away ; 
 in the doing of which many passages occurred which 
 might be worth the noting, but, that the repetition of them 
 would perhaps grate, and give offence to some. Let it 
 therefore suffice, waving the circumstances, to remem- 
 ber only that their warrant, not giving them authority 
 to break open doors, nor their watchfulness getting them 
 
 I an opportunity to enter the house, they carried away 
 about thirty-three cart-loads of goods without doors, corn 
 cut upon the ground, hay, coals, &c. This made a great 
 
 inoise in the country, and raised the indignation of many 
 against the decrees which prescribed this severity ; while 
 
 ;Mr. Henry bore it with his usual evenness and serenity 
 
 I of mind, not at all moved or disturbed by it. He did 
 not boast of his sufferings, or make any gi-eat matter of 
 them ; but would often say, — Alas, this is nothing to 
 
 jwhat others suffer, nor to what we ourselves may suffer 
 before we die ! " 
 
 The following instances afford most striking and re- 
 
 ,markable examples cf the restraining hand of God 
 checking and controling one of the most infamous per- 
 verters of justice during that disgi-aceful reign : 
 
 " Soon after this, was the assizes for Flintshire held at 
 Mold, where Sir George Jeffries, afterwards Lord Chan- 
 |Cellor, then Chief Justice of Chester, sat Judge. He did 
 
212 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 notj in private conversation, seem to applaud what wa 
 done in this matter, so as was expected ; whether out ( 
 a private pique against some that had been active in i 
 or for what other reason is not known : but it was sai( 
 he pleasantly asked some of the gentlemen, by what ne^ 
 law they pressed carts, as they passed upon their occj 
 sions along the road, to carry away goods distrained for 
 conventicle ? It was also said, that he spoke with som 
 respect of Mr. Henry ; saying, he knew him, and h 
 character, well, and that he was a great friend of h: 
 mother's, (Mrs. Jeffries of Acton, near Wrexham, a ver 
 pious, good woman,) and that sometimes, at his mother 
 request, Mr. Henry had examined him in his learninj 
 when he was a school-boy, and had commended his pr( 
 ficiency. It was much wondered at by many, that, < 
 all the times Sir George Jeffries went that circuit, thoug 
 it is well enough known what was his temper, and wlu 
 the temper of that time, yet he never sought any occj 
 sion against Mr. Henry, nor took the occasions that wei 
 offered, nor countenanced any trouble intended hin 
 though he was the only Nonconformist in Flintshir 
 One passage I remember, adds his son, not improper 1 
 be mentioned ; there had been an agreement amoH 
 some ministers, (I think it began in the West of Enj 
 land, where Mr. Allen was,) to spend some time, eitht 
 in secret, or in their families, or both, between six an 
 eight o'clock every Monday morning, in prayer for tl 
 church of God, and for the land and nation, more full 
 and particularly than at other times, and to make the 
 their special errand at the throne of grace ; and to ei 
 gage as many of their praying friends as ever they coul 
 
TOE BSY. PHILIP HENRY, 
 
 213 
 
 X) the observance of it. This had been coraraunicated to 
 Mr. Henry, by some of his friends at London, and he 
 Dunctually observed it in his own practice, I believe, for 
 Toany years. He also mentioned it to some of his ac- 
 'luaintance, who did in like manner observe it. It hap- 
 oened ih^t one in Denbighshire, to whom he had com- 
 'nunicated it, was so well pleased with it, that he wrote 
 ' ||)f it in a letter to a friend of his at a distance. This letter 
 happened to £^11 into hands that perverted it, and made 
 nformation upon it against the writer and receiver of 
 Ihe letter, who were bound over to the assizes, and great 
 
 - Suspicions Sir George Jefiries had, that it was a bi-anch 
 ^ l^f the Presbyterian plot, and accordingly he rallied the 
 r Parties accused severely. 
 
 ^ "It appeared, either by the letter, or the confession of 
 
 • !he parties, that they received the project from Mr. 
 ^- 3enry, which, it was greatly feared, would bring him 
 ^ •nto trouble ; but Sir George, to the wonder of many, 
 
 et it fall and never inquired farther into it. It seems, 
 
 - .here are some men, whose ' ways so please the Lord, 
 J ihat he makes even their enemies to be at peace with 
 
 • ^hem,' and there is nothing lost by trusting in God. 
 
 a I " Mr. Henry, at the next assizes after he was distrained 
 1! ipon, was presented by one of the high-constables, — 1, 
 3 For keeping a conventicle at his house ; and 2. For sajing 
 i jJiat the law for suppressing conventicles ought not to be 
 : bbeyed, and that there was never a tittle of the word of 
 : jrod in it. As to this latter presentment, it was alto- 
 j i^ether felse. He had indeed, in discourse \^-ith the 
 •: Qigh-constable, when he insisted so much upon the 
 i iaw, which required him to be so rigorous in the prose- 
 
214 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 cution, objected that all human laws vrere not to be 
 obeyed, merely because they were laws. But as to any 
 such reflections upon the law he suffered by, he was far 
 from it, and had prudence enough to keep silence at that 
 time ; for it was an evil time when so many were made 
 offenders for a word. But these presentments met with 
 so little countenance from Judge Jeffries, that Mr. Henry 
 only entered his appearance in the prothonotary's office, 
 and they were no more heard of ; wherein he acknow- 
 ledged the hand of God, ' who turneth the hearts of the 
 children of men as the rivulets of water.' 
 
 "In the same year, 1681, happened a public discourse at 
 Oswestry, between the then Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. 
 William Lloyd, mow Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, and 
 some Nonconformist ministers, of whom Mr. Henry was 
 one. That learned Bishop, at his first coming to the 
 diocese of St. Asaph, in his zeal for the establishedj 
 church, was bent on inducing Dissenters to conform to 
 it ; and that he might do it with the cords of a man, he 
 resolved, before he took any other methods, to reason 
 the matter with them, and to endeavour to effect their 
 conviction by discourse, in which he had a very great 
 felicity, both by his learning and temper. 
 
 " He publicly discoursed with the Quakers at Llan- 
 fyllin, in Montgomeryshire ; their champion was Dr. 
 Lloyd, a physician. One of the most considerable Non- 
 conformist ministers in his diocese was Mr. James Owen 
 of Oswestry, then very young, but well known since by 
 his learned book, which he calls ' A Plea for Scripture 
 Ordination proving ordination by presbyters, without 
 diocesan bishops, to be valid, (published in the year 1694,) 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 215 
 
 1 
 
 ji point of controversy which he was then obh'ged, in his 
 pwn defence, to search into. The Bishop had several 
 ;iiscourses with him in private : at last his Lordship was 
 pleased to appoint to meet him in the touTi-hall at Os- 
 »;vestry, on Tuesday, September 27, 1681, there to give 
 account 'by what right he exercised the ministry, 
 (lot having episcopal ordination.' He directed him also 
 ;.o procure any other ministers he could to assist him, 
 ibr he would be glad to hear what any of them had to 
 [ay for themselves. The notice was very short, not 
 .bove four or five days. Some, whose assistance was de- 
 lired, apprehended it might do more hurt than good, and 
 aiglit be prejudicial to their ovra liberty, and therefore de- 
 ilined it. It was not agreeable to Mr. Henrj'-'s mild and 
 Kiodest temper, to appear in such circumstances ; but he 
 /as loath to desert his friend Mr. Owen, and so, with much 
 mpoi-tunity he was prevailed upon to come to Oswestry, 
 tt the time appointed ; and there came no other but he 
 nd Mr. Jonathan Roberts, of Denbighshu-e, in the diocese 
 ,f Bangor, a plain man of great integi-ity, and a very good 
 pholar. The Bishop came, according to appointment, 
 fid brought with him, for liis assistant, the famous Mr. 
 [enry Dodwell. Mr. Henrj% who was utterly a stranger 
 j) the Bishop, pressed hard to have had the discourse in 
 private, before a select number, but it would not be 
 Ranted. He also desired his Lordship that it might not 
 je expected from him, being of another diocese, to 
 ijike part in the discourse, but only to hear. ' Nay, 
 fr. Henry,' said the Bishop, ' it is not the concern of 
 ^y diocese alone, but it is the common cause of religion, 
 ^id therefore I expect you should interest yourself in it 
 
216 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 more than as a hearer.' The Bishop was pleased to prt 
 mise that nothing that should be said by way of argi 
 ment should be any way turned to the prejudice of th 
 disputants, nor advantage taken of it to give them troubL 
 There were present divei-s" of the clergy and gentry ( 
 the country, with the magistrates of the town, and 
 great number of people, which Mr. Henry would gladl 
 have avoided, as he never loved anything that made 
 noise. The discourse began about two o'clock in th 
 afternoon, and continued till between seven and eight a 
 night ; much was said pro and con, touching the idcntit 
 of bishops and presbyters, the bishoping and unbishopin 
 of Timothy and Titus, the validity of Presbyterian ord 
 nation, &c. It was managed with a great deal of libert; 
 and not under the strict laws of disputation, which mad 
 it hard to give any tolerable account of the particula 
 of it. The Bishop managed his part of the conferenc 
 with a great deal of gravity, calmness, and evenness ( 
 spuit, and therein gave an excellent pattern to all tlu 
 ai*e in such stations. 
 
 " Two days after, the Bishop wrote a very obligin 
 letter to Mr. Henry, to signify to him how much I 
 was pleased with the good temper and spirit that h 
 found in him at Oswestry, and that he looked upon hii 
 as one that intended well, but laboured under prejudicet 
 and to desire further acquaintance and conversation wit 
 him ; particularly that he would come to him, straight 
 way, to Wrexham. After referring to some practice 
 debaters whom he names, who had contended with hii 
 not for truth but for victory, the Bishop adds : — Bu 
 for you, Sir, in whom I saw better appearances, I woul 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 217 
 
 go a good way to have an intercourse with you, could I 
 be sure of finding you at home ; and, since I cannot be 
 sure of that, I send this bearer to desire you would meet 
 'me at Wrexham, where I intend, God willing, to be on 
 'Friday morning, and to stay all day ; and allow me as 
 much of your company as you can. Give me leave to 
 tell you, though I think you put a wrong interpretation 
 Vipon 2 Timothy iv. 17, it is probable that, in thus 
 thinking, I may follow a prejudice of my own ; and I 
 'iHOW no reason to suspect this in myself, but on account 
 '^f human infirmity ; but, I make bold to say, with. St. 
 iustin, I cannot be a heretic' I trust God will keep 
 
 tie from being obstinate in any error ; for I know, and 
 esire to follow, none but him. If you are of the same 
 iisposition, there may be a good effect of this meeting, 
 howsoever, there can be no bad of it, as far as I am able 
 •0 judge. God direct us in the way of peace and 
 loliness ! 
 
 " Your humble servant, 
 
 " In the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 "W. St. Asaph." 
 
 September 29, 1680. 
 
 About three months after he sent for him again to 
 hester; in both which interviews a gi-eat deal of dis- 
 ourse, vdih much freedom, passed between them in 
 'rivate, in which they seemed to vie in nothing more 
 |han candour and obligingness, sho\\'ing to each other 
 lall meekness.' The Bishop showed him his plan for 
 \ie government of his diocese, and the method he in- 
 hnded to take in church-censures, which Mr. Henry 
 ery well approved of; but pleasantly told his Lordship, 
 
818 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 he hoped he would take care that Juvenal's verse should 
 not be again verified : 
 
 'Dot veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas ;' 
 
 Which the Bishop smiled at, and told him he would take 
 care it should not. His Lordship, observing his true 
 Catholic charity and moderation, told liim he did not 
 look upon him as o^icr/xaTt/cos, a schismatic ; but only 
 as Trapacrwdyoryos, a separatist ; and, that if he were in 
 his diocese, he did not question but that he should find 
 out some way to make him useful. But all his reasonings 
 could not satisfy Mr. Henrj'^'s conscience of the lawful- 
 ness of being re-ordained and conforming. The Bishop, 
 for some years after, when he came that way, towards 
 London, either called on Mr. Henry, at his house, or 
 sent for him to Whitchurch, and still with all outward 
 expressions of friendship." 
 
 Mr. Henry afterwards availed himself of the favour 
 this excellent prelate had expressed for him, to obtain 
 his interference on behalf of some of the oppressed 
 Nonconformist ministers in his diocese, who were sufier- 
 ing many hardships, and were threatened with impri- 
 sonments on account of actions raised against them in 
 the time of his predecessor in the bishopric. He him- 
 self continued to labour as opportunity ofiered. 
 
THE EKV. PHILIP HENUyT. 
 
 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE RYE-HOUSE PLOT. 
 
 Ik the year 1683, new plots and suspicions roused ^he 
 ingry passions and jealousies of the restoration-court, 
 ;he consequences of which were soon felt by the inno- 
 ;ent sufferers from its previous harsh and jealous enact- 
 nents. Philip Henry had been labouring with his 
 vonted zeal and charity during a brief period in which 
 he rigour of penal enactments had been somewhat re- 
 axed. His son remarks, when writing about this period : — 
 The trouble which he was in, about the meeting at 
 
 eston, obliged him for a while to keep his sabbaths at 
 lome somewhat private ; but in the year 1682, he took 
 .Teater liberty, and many flocked to him on Lord's 
 lays, through the kind connivance of the neighbouring 
 nagistrates ; but in the year 1683, when the meetings 
 vere generally suppressed throughout the kingdom, he 
 v&s again necessitated to contract his sails, and confine 
 lis labours more to his own family, and his friends 
 hat visited him. He continued his attendance at 
 •Vhitewell Chapel as usual ; and, when he was abridged 
 if liis liberty, he often blessed God for his quietness. 
 )nce, when one of the curates preached a bitter sermon 
 gainst Dissenters, on a Lord's-day morning, some won- 
 ered that Mr. Henry would go again in the afternoon, 
 OT the second part. — But, saith he, if he do not know 
 
220 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 his duty, I know mine ; and, I bless God, I can find 
 honey in a carcass. 
 
 "In this time of treading down, and of perplex- 
 ity, he stirred little abroad, being forced, as he used 
 to express it, to throw the plough under the hedge; 
 but he preached constantly at home without distur- 
 bance." 
 
 The Popish plots, and the proceedings consequent on 
 the shameless venality of Titus Gates, had suflBced for a 
 time to divert the attention of the government from the 
 persecution of the poor Nonconformists. But another 
 plot, no less famous, — and generally known as the Rye- 
 House Plot, from the name of an old mansion near 
 Newmarket, at which it was affirmed the conspirators 
 had agreed to meet, in order to waylay and assassinate 
 the King on his return from Newmarket races, — di- 
 verted the attention of the court from the Roman 
 Catholics, and again led to the increasing severity Matthew 
 Henry alludes to, against the Nonconformists. It was 
 a vague and nearly groundless suspicion which the court 
 party took advantage of, in order to rid themselves of 
 the friends of liberty. The court had abundant cause 
 for fear, where, by so many wrongs, it had furnished 
 the nation with so much reason for rebellion ; but no 
 satisfactory evidence was produced to give any legal 
 countenance to the shameful prostitution of justice by 
 which Lord William Russell and Algernon Sidney were 
 sacrificed to the enmity of the court. 
 
 Mr. Fox remarks, in the introduction to his History 
 of James II., " Of this plot it may be said, much more 
 truly than the Popish, that there was in it some truth 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 221 
 
 nixed with much falsehood ; and though many circum- 
 jtances in Kealing's (one of the informers) account are 
 aearly as absurd and ridiculous as those in Oatfts's, it 
 seems probable that there was among some of those ac- 
 cused, a notion of assassinating the King ; but whether 
 this notion was ever ripened into what may be called a 
 design, and much more whether it was ever evinced by 
 such an overt-act as the law requires for conviction, is 
 !very doubtful. In regard to the conspirators of higher 
 tank, from whom all suspicion of participation has been 
 ilong since done away, there is unquestionably reason to 
 believe that they had often met and consulted, as well 
 for the purpose of ascertaining the means the}^ actually 
 possessed, as for that of devising others for delivering 
 'their country from the dreadful servitude into which it 
 had fallen ; and thus far their conduct appears clearly to 
 have been laudable." The virtuous simplicity of Lord 
 iWilliam Russell, and the courageous fidelity of his 
 noble wife, have given to both an enduring place on the 
 page of English history, and helped to add to the in- 
 famy with wliich the government of the Restoration is 
 branded. 
 
 Lady Russell, with firm and noble devotion, attended 
 : her husband duiing his trial, to take notes, and assist 
 I him in his defence. The bitterness of their parting 
 I is described by contemporary writers as a most touch- 
 ling scene of grief and true womanly affection ; and 
 the lasting sorrow which her subsequent con-espondence 
 ■discloses, exhibits one of the most lovely examples of 
 
 i enduring love. 
 The poet Rogers thus refers to Lady Russell, in " The 
 
S22 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 Pleasures of Memory," alluding to the Traitor's GccU 
 of the Tower of London: — 
 
 "On through that gate misnamed, through which before 
 (Vent Sidney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More, 
 On into twilight, within walls of stone, 
 Tfien to the place of trial ; and alone, 
 Alone before his judges in array- 
 Stands for his life : there on that awful day, 
 Counsel of friends,— all human help denied, — 
 All but from her who sits the pen to guide, 
 Like that sweet saint who sate by Russell's side 
 Under the judgment-seat." 
 
 The most prominent charges against the suj^posed 
 conspirators were that they had conspired to take the 
 King's life, to raise a rebellion in the country, and to 
 establish the Duke of Monmouth, the King's illegitimate 
 son, upon the throne. It may suffice to say of this plot 
 what has been already remarked by the eminent states- 
 man and historian already quoted : " It is impossible not 
 to assent to the opinion of those who have ever stigma- 
 tized the condemnation and execution of Russell as a 
 most flagrant violation of law and justice." The violent 
 and illegal means, however, adopted on this occasion to 
 extinguish the patriotic party in England, accomplished 
 the object that the court had in view, and allowed Charles 
 to indulge in licentiousness, and oppression during the 
 very brief period of his reign that followed Russell's 
 execution. But the day of retribution was at hand. 
 Scarcely five years after James II. appealed in his ex- 
 tremity to the aged Earl of Bedford, the father of the 
 Patriot Russell, beseeching him to use his influence with 
 the people on his behalf. The Earl had exerted himsel 
 in vain to save the life of his son, offering at last enor- 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 223 
 
 mous bribes to tempt tlie notorious cupidity of the court 
 when all other influence failed, and now when the King, 
 whose word might have saved his son, during his brother's 
 reign, besought the EarFs interference, he replied, " I am 
 an old man, and incapable of aiding you, but I had a 
 son once, — had he lived, his influence would have proved 
 effectual." 
 
 It is in reference to this period that Matthew Henry 
 remarks of his father : " He often comforted himself 
 with this : — When we cannot do what we would, if we 
 , do what we can God will accept us ; when we cannot 
 keep open shop, we must drive a secret trade. And he 
 would say, — There is a mean, if we could hit it, be- 
 tween fool-hardiness and faint-heartedness. "While he 
 had some opportunity of being useful at home, he 
 was afraid lest he should prejudice that by venturing 
 abroad. One of his friends, in London, earnestly solicit- 
 ing him to make a visit thither in this time of restraint 
 in the countrj- , he thus wrote to him : — I should be glad 
 once more to kiss my native soil, though it were but "v^ith 
 , a kiss of valediction ; but my indisposedness to travel, 
 : and the small prospect there is of doing good to counter- 
 j vail the pains, are my prevailing arguments against it. 
 I am here, it is true, buried alive, bift I am quiet in my 
 grave, and have no mind to be a walking ghost. We 
 , rejoice, and deske to be thankful, that God hath given 
 , us a home, and continued it to us, when so many, better 
 , than we, have not where to lay their head, having no 
 certain dwellmg-place. (It was at the time of the dis- 
 persion of the French Protestants.) Why are they 
 exiles, and not we ? They strangers in a strange land, 
 
224 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 and not we ? We must not say, ' "We will die in our 
 nests;' lest God say, Nay: nor, We will 'multiply our 
 days as that bird,' the phoenix ; lest God say, ' This night 
 thy soul shall be required of thee.' Our times, and all 
 our ways, are at his disposal, absolutely and universally ; 
 and it is very well they are so." 
 
 CHAPTER XXm. 
 
 THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH'S INSURRECTION. 
 
 On Friday, the 6th of February, 1685, Charles II. ex- 
 pired under circumstances altogether worthy of the close 
 of a life which had been characterized by such shameless 
 profligacy and cruelty. He was attended on his death- 
 bed by various of the bishops, and paiiicularly by BishOp 
 Ken, who strove in vain to guide the thoughts of the 
 dying King to repentance, for the many sins of his shame- 
 ful career, and to some serious preparation for the great 
 change that awaited him ; but it was altogether vain. He 
 who had restored Episcopacy in defiance of his^ost 
 solemn engagements, and had persecuted Papists for 
 treason, and Protestant Nonconformists for self-sacrific- 
 ing obedience to the dictates of conscience, very fitly 
 ended his career by receiving the mass from the hands 
 of Huddleston, a Popish priest, who was secretly intro- 
 duced into his chamber during the night. The following 
 picture drawn by the graphic pen of Evelyn, conveys a 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 226 
 
 rightful idea oi the fearful profanity and licentiousness 
 )fthat godless court by whom such cruelty and oppression 
 vas exercised against the Christian confessors of England, 
 n the latter end of the seventeenth century. ''I can never 
 "orget," says Evelyn, — wi-itingonthe Sabbath immediately 
 ;ucceeding the death of Chaiies II., — "the inexpres- 
 ;ible luxury andprofaneness, gaming and all dissoluteness, 
 ind as it were total forgetfulness of God, (it being Sun- 
 lay evening,) which this day se'nnight I was witness of, 
 he King sitting and toying with his concubines, Ports- 
 nouth, Cleveland, Mazarine, &c., a French boy singing 
 ove-songs in that glorious gallery, whilst about twenty 
 )f the great couitiers and other dissolute persons were 
 it basset round a large table, a bank of at least £2,000 
 n gold before them, upon which tvm gentlemen who 
 vere with me made reflections in astonishment. Six days 
 ifter all was in the dust !" 
 
 The object at which the patriots Russell and Sidney, 
 md those who united with them in seeking to free 
 England from her intolerable yoke of bondage, chiefly 
 iiad aimed at, was to set aside the Duke of York from 
 succeeding to his brother's throne, in consequence of his 
 ivowed adherence to Popery, During the excitement 
 ithat prevailed in England at the time of Titus Oates's 
 Popish plot, in 1678-9, the Duke of York found it ad- 
 tvisable to retire to the continent, and he resided ac- 
 icordingly at Brussels, with his wife and his younger 
 daughter, the Lady Anne, who afterwards succeeded to 
 the throne. During his absence the famous bill for 
 liis exclusion from the tlirone was twice read in the 
 House of Commons, and ordered to be proceeded with 
 P 
 
226 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 by large majorities ; and, had not the King hastily pro- 
 rogued the parliament, it would undoubtedly have passed 
 into law. From this date may be traced the com- 
 mencement of the open rivalry between the Duke of 
 York and Charles's natural son, the Duke of Monmouth, 
 on whom the popular suffrages seemed very generally 
 to fall, as the most hopeful successor to Charles. On 
 the death of the latter, however, the court party had 
 already effected their purpose, in removing out of the 
 way, by the scaffold and the dungeon, all those whp 
 were best suited to guide the nation in the choice of 
 a successor, and no opposition was made to his succes- 
 sion to the throne. In his first address to the Privy 
 Council, he said : — " I have been reported to be a man 
 for arbitrary power ; but that is not the only false 
 story that has been made of me ; and I shall make it 
 my endeavour to preserve this government, both in 
 church and state, as it is now established by law." In 
 this he made professions which he lost not a moment in 
 giving the lie to. The first proclamation he issued or- 
 dered the payment of the customs and excise duties as 
 usual ; — an act altogether analagous to the well-known 
 enforcement of ship-m.oney by his father, which prepared 
 the way for his dethronement and death. 
 
 So far was he from disguising his adherence to Popery, 
 that he went openly, and with great state and ceremony, 
 to the celebration of mass, in defiance of the law ; and 
 even sent an accredited agent to Rome, to make his 
 submission to the Pope, and pave the way for th^ restor- 
 ation of papal supremacy in England. Meanwhile, his 
 devotion to his religion did not prevent a profligacy fully 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 227 
 
 ? open and shameless as that of his brother, and a 
 enality so mean and degrading that he literally became 
 le hired tool and pensioner of the French King Louis. 
 
 The Nonconformists had anticipated the most rigorous 
 feverities against them from the accession of a Popish 
 ing, but in this they were agreei»bly deceived. The de- 
 re of the King to favour the Roman Catholics led to 
 n immediate relaxation of all the penal laws against 
 lonconformity, of which they reaped the full advantage. 
 i was not till a determined spirit of oppositioD began 
 
 manifest itself against the government, that they once 
 lore experienced the rigorous severities which the St. 
 iartholomew Act had introduced. This resistance was 
 rst shown in the descent of the Duke of Monmouth 
 'Q England, nearly simultaneous with that of the Earl 
 f Argj-le on Scotland, in 1G85. The issue was alto- 
 ether disastrous. Argyle was seized and executed at 
 Idinburgh ; and Monmouth, after suEFering a total de- 
 iat in the decisive battle of Sedgemoor, was earned 
 •risoner to London, and perished on the scaffold, 
 i This insurrection was made the excuse for the re- 
 lewal of the most intolerant severities both in Scotland 
 ind England. Colonel Kirk established military law in 
 he disaffected counties, and the infamous J udge Jeffries 
 followed him to add the insulting mocker}^ of the forms 
 ff law to their savage acts of vengeance. Between the 
 two the south-western counties of England were made 
 the scene of the most horrible attrocities, hundreds of 
 ■nen and women were butchered with the sword and the 
 ■ixe. Their dismembered limbs were strewed in every 
 Jiirection, and the most effective means taken to render 
 
228 
 
 LIFE Ain) TIMES OP 
 
 the government altogether odious and infiamous to the 
 nation. 
 
 Philip Henry speedily became involved in the suffer- 
 ings inflicted on thousands of innocent and unoffending 
 people. His son has furnished us with the following 
 narrative of his father's trials at this period : — " At the 
 time of the Duke of Monmouth's descent, and the in- 
 surrection in the west, in the year 1685, Mr. Henry, as 
 well as many others, (pursuant to a general order of the 
 Lord-Lieutenant, for securing all suspected pei-sons, and 
 particularly all Nonconformist ministers,) was taken up 
 by a warrant from the deputy-lieutenants, and sent un- 
 der a guard to Chester Castle, where he was about three 
 weeks a close prisoner. He was lodged vdth. some gen- 
 tlemen and ministers that were fetched thither out of 
 Lancashire, who were all strangers to him, but he had 
 great comfort in the acquaintance and society of many 
 of them, 
 
 " Thence he addressed to Mrs. Henry the following 
 letter :— 
 
 July 8, 1635. 
 
 " Dear Heart, 
 
 " I continue veiy well at present, — thanks be to 
 God ! — and feel nothing yet of the inconveniences of a 
 prison, "We are better accommodated, as I acquainted 
 you in my last, than we could have expected, though 
 we must pay for it. Just now, six ministers, Noncon- 
 formists, are brought in hither fr-om Lancashire, more 
 than before ; so far are we from enlargement. But our 
 times are in God's hand, who hath sent us hither, I 
 am confident, for good, though how, or which way, or 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 229 
 
 wherein, I know not ; but ' He is faithful who hath 
 'Tomised.' My chamber-fellows and I differ something 
 our apprehensions of things past, which will not be 
 ped ; but for the ' unseen things' that are to come, 
 T are eternal, we are all one. Our afternoons, till 
 (\ are filled with visitants, who love us, and wish us 
 1. and are kind to us ; but we cannot do with them 
 ^.t we would. I have not yet opened the little bottle 
 rought with me, not wanting it, and being more 
 . id of what might heat me, in regard we have no 
 Irink but strong, (unless very seldom,) which may turn 
 feverish distempers, wanting exercise, I have not 
 ;den on the ground since Saturday, which, using my- 
 ■ to in the mornings, I thought the want of might be 
 ; udicial ; but hitherto it is not. I have not tasted 
 ;er yet, with bread, since I came fi-om home. The 
 aimer we had, beans and bacon, salmon, &c. I am 
 ■areful what I eat ; not fish and flesh. Mrs. "Wenlock 
 to see me yesterday, and brought me a bottle of wine. 
 i.estow all of that kind in common with my compan- 
 ons, strangers here. Let me hear from you how you do, 
 nd the children, &c., as oft as you can. Love to 
 •latthew. Our guards change every hour, which makes 
 t so very hard to come to us. I would gladly see him, but 
 \ lien, or how, I know not. I think there is little danger 
 f any harm to him here, if there be none at home at his 
 ctum. Love to Sarah and Eleanor, and to all the rest. 
 )o what you can to get to heaven yourselves, and to help 
 ne another thither. Prepare for further sufferings, to 
 ch it may be these things are but the preamble; but all 
 ell that ends everlastingly well. Thanks for all your 
 
230 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 love and faithfulness to me, and patience with me ; the 
 Lord will reward it. One of my fellow-prisoners the last 
 night received a letter from his wife, subscribed, ' So I 
 rest, dear husband, in all duty and obedience, your obe- 
 dient wife.' Such is Lancashire kindness ; but deeds 
 exceed words. 
 
 " I am, in short, most entirely and most affectionately 
 thine. « p ^ >, 
 
 " He often spake of this imprisonment, not as a matter 
 of complaint, but of thanksgiving, and blessed God he 
 was in nothing uneasy all the while. In a sermon to 
 his family the day after he came home, he affectionately 
 recounted the mercies of that providence, as for instance : 
 That his imprisonment was for no cause ; it is guilt that 
 makes a prison. That it was his security in a dangerous 
 time. That he had good company in his sufferings, who 
 prayed together, and read the Scriptures together, and 
 discoursed to their mutual edification. That he had 
 health there ; not ' sick, and in prison that he was 
 visited and prayed for by his friends. That he was 
 very cheerful and easy in his spirit, many a time asleep 
 and quiet when his adversaries were disturbedand unquiet. 
 That his enlargement was speedy and unsought for, and 
 that it gave occasion to the magistrates who committed 
 him, to give it under their hands that they had nothing 
 in particular to lay to his charge ; and. especially that it 
 was without a snare, which was the thing he feared more 
 than anything else. 
 
 " It was a surprise to some that visited him in his 
 imprisonment, and were big with expectations of the 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 231 
 
 Duke of Monmouth's success, to hear him say, I would 
 not have you to flatter yourselves with such hopes, for 
 God will not do his work for us in these nations by that 
 man ; but our delivei-ance and salvation will arise some 
 other waj^ 
 
 " It must not be forgotten how ready he was, nay, how 
 studious and industrious, to serve and oblige such as 
 had been any way instruments of trouble to him, as far 
 as it lay in his power, and he had any opportunity to do 
 it ; so well had he learned that gi-eat lesson of forgiving 
 and loving enemies : of this it were easy to give in- 
 stances. 
 
 ** When a gentleman, who had sometimes been an in- 
 strument of trouble to him, had occasion to make use of 
 his help to give him some light into a cause he had to 
 be tried, Mr. Henry was very ready to serve him in it ; 
 and though he might have declined it, and it was some- 
 what against his own interest too, yet he appeared a 
 witness for liim, which so won upon the gentleman, that 
 he was afterwards more friendly to him. 
 
 " Some have wondered to see how courteously and 
 
 ■ friendly he would speak to such as had been any way 
 injurious to him, when he met with them, being as 
 industrious to discover his forgiving of wrongs, as some 
 are to discover their resentments of them. 
 
 > " It was said of Archbishop Cranmer, that the way to 
 make him one's friend, was to do liim an unkindness ; 
 and I am sure it might be said of Mr. Henry, that doing 
 him an unkindness would not make him one's enemy. 
 This reminds me," adds Matthew Henrj', of an ex- 
 
 . emplarj' passage concerning his worthy friend ]SIr. Ed- 
 
232 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 ward Lawrence. Once going, with some of his sons, by 
 the house of a gentleman that had been injurious to 
 him, he gave a cliarge to his sons to this purpose, — That 
 they should never think or speak amiss of that gentle- 
 man for the sake of anything he had done against him ; 
 but, whenever they went by his house, should lift up 
 their hearts in prayer to God for him, and his family." 
 
 CHAPTER XXrV. 
 
 KING JAMES'S INDULGENCE. 
 
 Notwithstanding the cruelties alluded to, as follow- 
 ing on the invasion of Monmouth and Argyle, and the 
 sufferings it brought on the Nonconformists, the desire 
 of relaxing the penal statutes against Romish Dis- 
 senters from the Episcopal Church, soon led to greater 
 liberty for the Puritan Nonconformists also. Soon after 
 Philip Henry's release from Chester Castle, he found 
 himself again free to avail himself of occasional oppor- 
 tunities for preaching, though still in such a state of im- 
 certainty, and dependence on the caprice of a despotic 
 court, as left him in daily anticipation of renewed 
 severities. The state of suspense in which he was 
 kept, is shown in the following extract from a letter ad- 
 dressed by him, in 1687, to Henry Ashurst, Esq., of Lon- 
 don, " a person of quality," as his son styles him, with 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 233 
 
 Avhom Philip Henry began a correspondence in the pre- 
 mous year, which lasted till his death. He was frequently 
 made the almoner of this new friend, who appears to 
 have delighted in distributing of his wealth to relieve the 
 lecessities of his poor Christian brethren. From this 
 lietter he seems to have been desirous of placing his 
 son under the guidance and tuition of Philip Henry. 
 ' As to what you desire," the latter wTites in reply 
 0 him, " concerning your son, I am heartily willing 
 .0 my poor power, to serve you in his education 
 lere for a while ; but I am afraid, by reason of your un- 
 ieserved overvaluing thoughts of me, (wherein you 
 vould abate if you knew me better,) lest you promise 
 /ourself that, from it, which will not be. Should the 
 iberty talked of prove an open door, concerning which 
 ve are yet in the dark here, and, I perceive, so are they 
 ilso that are nearer you, I think, if others enter, I shall 
 )e loath to stay behind ; it will be a hinderance to that 
 ittendance on his teaching which should be, especially if 
 le be not yet past the school measures. And another 
 hing is, that he will be alone, w^liich will make the 
 vheels go heavy. I have refused several of late, and at 
 /resent do not know" of any, undisposed of, that will be 
 neet for him. It were desirable it should be one who 
 .3 rather a step before than behind him. These are the 
 :liings at present that offer themselves to my thoughts 
 concerning it, and from mine, they come to you, if my son 
 lave not already hinted them to you. I suppose it will 
 lot be long ere he will be looking homewards ; and if so, 
 mth his help it will be the better done. Please to weigh 
 it yet fui-ther with yourself, and the Lord direct and de- 
 
834 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 termine your will by his will, and that shall be my will 
 in the matter. 
 
 "Sir, I most heartily thank both you and your good 
 lady, (to whom I give my humble service,) for your very 
 great kindness and respect to my son [Matthew Henry, 
 then in London.] He intimates the deep sense he hath 
 of it, and I join with him in thankful acknowledg- 
 ment." 
 
 " It was in the latter end of the year 1685, when the 
 stream ran so very strong against the Dissentei-s, that Mr. 
 Henry being in discourse with a very great man of the 
 Church of England, [probably Dr. Lloyd, Bishop of St 
 Asaph,] mentioned King Charles's indulgence in 1672, as 
 that which gave rise to his stated preaching in a separate 
 assembly, and added, if the present King James should in 
 like manner give me leave, I would do the same again. To 
 which that great man replied, 'Never expect any such thing 
 from him ; for take my word for it, he hates you Non- 
 conformists in his heart.' ' Truly,' said Mr. Henry, * I 
 believe it, and I tliink he doth not love you of the Church 
 of England either.' It was then little thought that the 
 same right reverend person who said so to him, should 
 have the honour, as he had soon after, to be one of the 
 seven bishops committed to the Tower by King James ; 
 as it was also far from any one's expectation that the 
 same King James should so quickly give liberty to the 
 Nonconformists. But we live in a world wherein we are 
 to think nothing strange, nor be surprised at any turn of 
 the wheel of nature, as it is called. 
 
 " The measures then taken by King James's court 
 and council were soon laid open, not only to view, but 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 235 
 
 to contempt, being in a short time, by the overruling 
 providence of God, broken and defeated. However, the 
 indulgence granted to Dissenters in April, 1687, must 
 needs have been a reviving to those who, for so many 
 years, had lain buried in silence and restraint ; nor can 
 any who will allow themselves the liberty of supposing the 
 case their own, wonder that they should rejoice in it, 
 though the design of it being manifest, they could not 
 choose but rejoice with trembling. Mr. Henry's senti- 
 ments concerning it were, — Whatever men's ends are, I 
 believe God's end in it is to do us good. 
 
 " There were many that said, surely the Dissenters 
 will not embrace the liberty which is intended only for 
 a snare to them. i\Ir, Henry read and considered the 
 letter of advice to the Dissenters at that juncture, but 
 concluded, — Duty is our's, and events are God's. He 
 remembered the experience he had had of the like in 
 King Charles's time, and that did good, and no hurt. 
 And why might not this do so too ? All power is for 
 edification, not for destruction. Did Jeremiah sit still 
 in the court of the prison because he had his discharge 
 from the King of Babylon 1 Nay, did not Paul, when he 
 was pei-secuted by his countrjTnen for preaching the 
 gospel, appeal to Csesar, and find more kindness at Rome 
 than he did at Jerusalem 1 In short, the principle of his 
 conversation in the world being not fleshly wisdom, or 
 policy, but the grace of God, and particularly the grace 
 of simplicity and godly sincerity^ he was willing to make 
 \ the best of that which was, and to hope the best of the 
 . design and issue of it. Doubtless it was intended to in- 
 troduce Popery ; but it is certain that nothing could arm 
 
 I 
 
236 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 people against Popeiy more effectually than the plain and 
 powerful preaching of the gospel ; and thus they who 
 granted that liberty were outshot in their own bow, as ma- 
 nifestly appeared in the event and issue. As they did 
 good service to the Protestant religion among scholars, 
 who wrote so many learned books against Popery at 
 that time, for which we return them our best thinks ; 
 80 they did no less service among the common people, 
 who are the strength and hody of the nation, that 
 preached so many good sermons to arm their hearers 
 against that strong delusion, which Mr. Henry, as well 
 as the Nonconformists generally, took all occasions to do. 
 How often would he commend his hearers, as Dr. Hol- 
 land, divinity professor in Oxford, was wont to do, to the 
 love of God, and the hatred of Popery. 
 
 "Besides his preaching professedly to discover the errors 
 and corruptions of the Church of Rome, (which he would 
 have taken occasion to do more fully, had he seen those 
 he preached to in any immediate danger of the infection,) 
 there could not be a more effectual antidote against 
 Popery, than the instructing and confirming of people in 
 the truth, as it is in Jesus ; and advancing the know- 
 ledge of, and a value and veneration for, the Holy Scrip- 
 tures ; to which, how much Mr, Henry in his place did 
 contribute, all that knew him will bear record. He used 
 to observe, that the fall of Babylon followed upon the 
 free and open preaching of the everlasting gospel. He 
 apprehended this liberty likely to be of very short con- 
 tinuance, and to end in trouble ; and, because he could 
 not see how his not using it would help to prevent the 
 trouble, whereas his vigorous improvement of it would 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 237 
 
 lelp to prepare for the trouble, he set himself with all 
 iiligence to make the best use he could of this gleftm 
 poth at home and abroad, on sabbath days, and weekdays." 
 , It was at this juncture that Mr. Henry had the hap- 
 piness of recognizing his son as an ordained minister of 
 i:he gospel. When Mr, Doolittle's academy at Islington 
 .vas dispersed by the increasing severity and intolerance 
 )f the government, Matthew retm-ned home to Broad 
 Oak, and his next visit to London was as a student of 
 aw. In pursuing his l'.:^al studies he greatly added to 
 lis stores of knowledge, and he formed many friendships 
 it Gray's Inn to which he ever after referred with plea- 
 'iure, but his heart never was in the study of law, and he 
 jladly availed himself of the relaxation of the penalties 
 igainst dissent, to procure his ordination to the ministry. 
 Chis occasion gave rise to the following letter £i-om his 
 ather : 
 
 May 14, 1687. 
 
 " Son Matthew, 
 
 " I rejoice in what you heard, and saw, 
 md felt, of God on Monday last, and hope it hath left 
 jpon you a truly indelible character, and such impres- 
 ;ions as no time, nor anything else, shall be able to wear 
 out. Remember; assisted by thy strength, 0 God, I 
 A'ill! As to the manner and circumstances of your 
 i-etum, we cannot order them here, but must leave it 
 i:o yourself to do as you shall see cause, beseecliing 
 •:he Lord, in everything, to make your way plain before 
 jjrou ; but, as to the thing itself, we rejoice in hopes it 
 will not be long now ere we shall see you liere, and, I 
 must not say, be filled with your company, for this is not 
 
 i 
 
238 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 the world that we must be together in. Your dear 
 mother hath no great joy in the thoughts of your closing 
 with them at Chester upon the terras proposed ; her rea- 
 sons are weighty, and, in other things, have many times 
 swayed with me against my own, and it hath done wel]. 
 What they are in this matter, you shall hear immedi- 
 ately from herself. As to your Northampton affair we 
 are no little concerned about it, making mention of it in 
 every prayer to our heavenly Father, who, we have 
 learned, besides a common providence, hath a special 
 hand in such proposals. And we say, if you, of all the 
 other, should miss, it would be a grief of mind. 
 
 " The clergy in Cheshire and Shropshire are hammer- 
 ing an address of thanks, but divers of them will not 
 strike. They begin to feel now for their oaths' sake 
 
 " Our love and blessing is all here is room for." 
 
 Mr. Matthew Henry having shortly after the pre- 
 ceding letter was wTitten, settled at Chester, the follow- 
 ing was addressed to him by his father, on another, and 
 interesting subject : — 
 
 July, 1687. 
 
 "Son Matthew ; 
 
 "I am very much concerned that two 
 such great affairs are, at this time, met together upon 
 your hand, — that of the next sabbath, and that of the 
 week after. You know which of the two should fill you 
 mpst, and I hope it will accordingly ; and, if it do, you 
 may the more comfortably expect a blessing upon the 
 other ; for, ever since I knew anything in those matters, 
 I have found it true, that, when I have been most care- 
 ful in doing God's work, God hath been most faithful in 
 
THE REV, PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 239 
 
 ioing mine. I have not sealed, but snbscribedj a draught 
 >f articles with Mr. Hardware.* "We were together yes- 
 erday at each place ; and, upon view, found everytliing, 
 lot worse, but rather better, than represented. As to a 
 iime and place of sealing, I would meet half-way on 
 Monday, but Wednesday being the first day appointed at 
 lanmer, I must needs attend that. If you would not 
 hink it too long to defer till the week after, that is, to 
 he 19th instant, I should hope, by that time, (your 
 iiext sabbath work, and your Warrington journey, and 
 ur engagements here, being all over,) there would be 
 Liuch more of clearness and freeness, without hurry, 
 s to each cii-cumstance ; but I must not urge it, not 
 insist upon it, lest ' the heart be made sick ;'t there- 
 3re do as you see cause, only in everything take God 
 long with you, and do all ' in the name of the Lord 
 esus.' 
 
 " Give my kind respects to Miss Hardware, your good 
 4end, whom I hope to call by another name shortly, 
 'he Lord bless you both, and first fit you for, and then 
 ive you to, each other, in much mercy ! Amen." 
 
 Matthew had no such difficulties to contend \s'ith as 
 receded his father's marriage. He was married on the 
 _9th of the same month of July, and his domestic joy 
 fas a delightful repetition of the happy scenes he had 
 ntnessed and shared in at Broad Oak. 
 
 " To resume the narrative. The great subject of de- 
 ate at this time in the nation, was, concerning the re- 
 
 ■ Mias Hardwire, of Moldsworth, was Mr. Matthew Henry's first wife, 
 t See Prov. xiii 12. 
 
240 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 peal of penal laws and tests. Mr. Henry's thoughts 
 were, as to the penal laws, that, if those against the Dis- 
 senters were all repealed, he would rejoice in it, and be 
 very thankful hoth to God and man ; for he would 
 sometimes say, without reflection upon any, he could not 
 but look upon them as a national sin ; and, as for those 
 against the Papists, if our lawgivers see cause to repeal 
 them in a regular way : I will endeavour, says he, to 
 make the best of it, and to say, — The will of the Lord be 
 done ! 
 
 "In the month of August, 1687, King James made 
 a royal progress to Chester in great state, hoping thereby 
 to win popularity, and to recover the good opinion of the 
 people. Mr. Henry joined with several others, in and 
 about Whitchurch, Nantwich, and Wem, in an address 
 to him, which was presented when he lay at Whitchurch, 
 The purport of it was, not to sacrifice their lives and for- 
 tunes to him and to his interest, but only to return him 
 thanks for the liberty they had, with a promise to de- 
 mean themselves quietly in the use of it. 
 
 "Some time after, commissioners were sent abroad 
 into the country, to inquire after the trouble the Dissen- 
 ters had sustained by the penal laws ; and how the 
 money that was levied upon them was disposed of, little 
 of it being found paid into the Exchequer ; they sent to 
 Mr. Henry, to have an account from him of his sufferings ; 
 he returned answer, by letter, that he had indeed been 
 fined some years before, for a conventicle, and distrained 
 upon, and his goods carried away ; which all the country 
 knew, and to which he referred himself But, being re- 
 quired to give a ©articular account of it upon oath, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY 
 
 241 
 
 though he said he could be glad to see such instruments 
 ' of trouble legally removedj yet he declined giving any 
 further information concerning it : having, as he wrote 
 I to the commissioners, long since, from his heart, forgiven 
 l!all the agents, instruments, and occasions of it ; and 
 having purposed never to say anything more of it. 
 j " It was on Tuesday, June 14, 1681, that he was dis- 
 jturbed at Weston, in Shropshire, when he was preaching 
 on Psalm Ixvi. 18 ; and on Tuesday, June 14, 1687, that 
 day six years, he preached there again without distur- 
 'bance, finishing what he was then prevented from de- 
 livering, concerning prayer, going on to the succeeding 
 words of the same text — ' But, verily, God hath heard 
 'me, blessed be God,' concerning the duty of thanksgiving. 
 This seventh year of their silence and restraint, proved, 
 through God's wondei-ful good providence, the year of 
 release." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JAMES SECOND'S TOLERATION. 
 
 j On the 27th of April, 1688, King James renewed his 
 projects for the gradual introduction of Popery, by pub- 
 lishing a second declaration of indulgence to Dissenters, 
 and commanded it to be read by the clergy, in all the 
 churchesj immediately after divine service. This was 
 
242 
 
 LIPE AND TIMES OF 
 
 vehemently opposed by men of all parties on many 
 grounds ; and chiefly because it implied the possession, 
 by the crown, of a dispensing power, whereby the laws 
 could he at any time rescinded, and the King render him- 
 self altogether independent of parliament. It was for 
 their refusal to obey this illegal stretch of authority, that 
 the seven bishops were sent to the Tower on the 8th of 
 June following, and were during the same month brought 
 to trial before the Court of King's Bench, on the charge 
 of publishing " a false, fictitious, malicious, pernicious, 
 and seditious libel. The court, however, was defeated. 
 The jury returned a verdict of not guilty in defiance of 
 every attempt to coerce them, and the whole kingdom 
 resounded with acclamations at the result, as a great 
 national deliverance. 
 
 The infatuated monarch had no wise and disinterested 
 counsellor to show him how madly he was rushing on to 
 inevitable collision with the nation over whom he had 
 been permitted to assume supreme rule, in direct oppo- 
 sition, as may justly be affirmed, to the will of the ma- 
 jority. The peculiar form, however, that his quarrel 
 with the nation now assumed, is worthy of note, from 
 the influence it exercised on the position of the Noncon- 
 formists under the new regime. Hume thus concisely 
 sums up the narrative of infatuated obstinacy, by means 
 of wliich James II. precipitated his own fate: "He 
 struck out two of the judges, Powell and Hollo way, who 
 had appeared to favour the bishops ; he issued orders to 
 prosecute all those clergymen who had not read his de- 
 claration, that is, the whole Church of England, two 
 hundred excepted j he sent a mandate to the new Fel* 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 243 
 
 lows whom lie had obtruded on Magdalen College, to 
 elect for president, in the room of Parker, lately deceased, 
 one Gifford, a Doctor of the Sorbonnc, and titular Bishop 
 of Madaura : and he is even said to have nominated the 
 same person to the see of Oxford." By such means as 
 these, it may be readily conceived that the whole body 
 
 • of the Church of England, including the powerful uni- 
 versity corporations, and other institutions indirectly as- 
 sociated with it, were an-ayed in violent opposition to the 
 crov\Ti, whose divine" right to absolute government, so 
 
 = many of their leading members had recently maintained, 
 when its powers appeared to be entirely devoted to their 
 interests. 
 
 The only line of policy adopted by the infatuated 
 King which showed the slightest sign of conciliatory 
 eflFoi-ts, or even of politic tact, was his concession of 
 toleration to thje great body of Dissenters, who had suf- 
 fered so severely under the despotic enforcement of con- 
 formity since the Restoration. Some of the smaller 
 .sects, and especially the Quakers, thankfully availed 
 themselves of this unexpected display of royal favour. 
 But the great majority of conscientious Nonconformists 
 I regarded this unwonted partiality of their old persecutor 
 with prudent jealousy, and saw in it abundant reason 
 to suspect that the Popish King was only scheming to 
 make use" of the divisions and jealousies among Pro- 
 testants in order the more effectually to accomplish 
 the triumph of Popery. Nevertheless the favours that 
 continued to be dispensed to the lately despised and 
 persecuted Nonconformists were altogether unwonted 
 and surprising. 
 
244 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 In one of Philip Henry's letters to his friend, Heni7 
 Ashurst, Esq., of London, he thus describes the nature 
 of his reception by the King, during his royal progress, 
 in answer to his friend's inquiries. " As to the truth of 
 the matter whereof you desire an account, it was this ; 
 what reports are concerning it I know not. When I 
 had read the address, the words which the King spoke 
 were to this purpose. — Gentlemen, I perceive you have 
 been yourselves sufferers for your consciences, and, there- 
 fore, I cannot but look upon you as men of conscience, 
 and take it for granted, you will be ready to do what 
 is fit to be done for the ease both of yourselves and 
 others in that case, when there is a parliament. For 
 my part I shall be ready to do what lies in me, and 
 I hope, so will you. You desire me to continue your 
 liberty, and I promise you I will as long as I live, 
 and could be well contented, it might be as secure to 
 you by law, as your Magna Charta is. 
 
 " Q. What persuasion are you of ? Are you for the 
 congregational way 1 
 
 " A. No, Sir, we are not for the congregational way. 
 
 " Q. What then are you for ? 
 
 "-4. We are for a moderate presbytery. 
 
 " Q. Are you all so hereabouts ? 
 
 *^ A. There are few Dissenters, if any, hereabouts, 
 that differ from us in that matter. 
 
 " This was all that was spoken, as far as I can remem- 
 ber ; after which his Majesty gave each of us (in all 
 eight, whereof two were ministers,) his hand to kiss, and 
 60' went his way." 
 
 It was one thing, however, with these conscientious 
 
HE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 24£ 
 
 Nonconformists to seek to obtain such liberty of con- 
 science as the government could be induced to concede 
 to them, so that they might lead quiet and peaceable 
 lives ; but an altogether different matter to be assumed as 
 the favourites and the tools of a Popish ruler. The C(jii- 
 sistency with which they maintained their stand against 
 the latter, and the firmness with which they resisted 
 every attempt to win their services, even by the promise 
 of receiving in return their own just rights, reflects the 
 highest honour on these noble confessors. Such wati 
 their zeal in the cause of what they believed to be Pro- 
 testant and scriptural truth, that they heartily co-ope- 
 rated whenever opportunity offered, with the high- 
 church party, from whom they had suffered so many 
 wrongs ; while they even rejected the offer of honours 
 and privileges which they might have consistently 
 enough received, and by which they might have found 
 abundant opportunity for retaliating on their persecutors, 
 had they been actuated by such a spirit as was in their 
 opponents. Of this the following incident in the life of 
 Philip Henry is a remarkable example : — 
 
 "In May, 1688," says Matthew Henry, in his inter- 
 esting biographical narrative, " a new commission of the 
 • peace came down for the county of Flint, in which, by 
 whose interest or procurement was not known, Mr. 
 Henry was nominated a justice of peace for that county. 
 It was no small surprise to him to receive a letter from 
 the clerk of the peace, directed to Philip Henry, Esq., 
 acquainting him with it, and appointing him when and 
 whither to come to be sworn. To this he returned 
 answer, that he was very sensible of his unworthiness 
 
246 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 of the honour, and his unfitness for the office which he 
 was nominated to, and, therefore, desu-ing to be excused, 
 and he was so, and did what he could to prevent its be- 
 ing spoken of in the country. There were some, who, 
 upon this occasion, remembered, that, a few years before, 
 a reverend clergyman in Shropshire told Mr. Henry to 
 his face, that he had done more mischief in the country 
 than any man that ever came into it ; and that he him- 
 self hoped shortly to be in the commission of the peace, 
 and then he would rid the country of him. But, alas, 
 he was quite disappointed ! Thus honour is like the 
 shadow, which flies from those that pursue it, and fol- 
 lows those that flee from it." 
 
 In the midst of this strange contest between the crown 
 and the church people, in which such strange and unex- 
 pected changes were already apparent, a son and heir 
 to the throne of James II. was announced to have been 
 bora — a piece of intelligence which was generally re- 
 garded at the period with the utmost suspicion ; though 
 the notion of any deception having been practised on this 
 occasion, has long since been renounced as a groundless 
 prejudice. This suspicion, however, served to stimulate 
 the opponents of the royal policy to renevred exertion, 
 since the birth of an heir to the throne seemed to pro- 
 mise a perpetuity to the government, whose yoke was 
 every day becoming more insutFerable. 
 
 Already the leaders of the opposition to the crown 
 were in correspondence with the Prince pf Orange, the 
 King's son-in-law. Their importunities, and the impo- 
 litic course of James II., at length induced him to comply 
 with their solicitations. The Prince of Orange sailed for 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 247 
 
 England with a la:-ge fleet, and transports carrj'ing a 
 land force of about 14,000 men, with which he landed at 
 Torhay, in Devonshire, on the 5th of November, 1688, 
 the anniversary of another famous discomfiture of a 
 Popish plot. The consequences that ensued are well 
 known. The wretched King found himself utterly de- 
 serted. Not only the nobles, the people, and the 
 army, were arrayed against him ; but his immediate ser- 
 vants and friends, and even his own children deserted 
 him. He was weighed in the balance and found 
 wanting ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE ACT OF INDULGENCE. 
 
 The Revolution of 1688, is an era from which Eng- 
 land da,tes the ^final establishment of toleration and 
 liberty. It was, however, rather the establishment of 
 forms than realities ; nor has it been without a tardy 
 and severe struggle that the nation has succeeded in 
 bringing one after another of these revolution theorys 
 into practical eflSciency. At the date of the revolution 
 settlement, the Nonconformists found themselves in an 
 i equivocal position, consequent on the advances made to 
 them by the dethroned King, and the invidious partiality 
 ihe had professed for them. They owed it to their owd 
 
 1 
 
248 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES GV 
 
 conscientious self-denial that they had not then to snfier 
 also the retaliation of triumphant opponents. 
 
 The subject of our memoir, ho\fever, escaped many of 
 the sufferings of this period of change, by the consis- 
 tency and integrity of his course of conduct, though as 
 usual, with those who honestly refuse to be the partizans 
 of any extreme party, he was reviled by those who 
 agreed on no other point than their opposition to the 
 mild and consistent course of his Christian life. 
 
 " For two years after this liberty began, Mr. Henry 
 still continued his attendance, as usual, at White- 
 well Chapel, whenever there was preaching ; and he 
 preached at his own house only when there was no sup- 
 ply there, and in the evening of those days when there 
 was. For doing thus he was greatly clamoured against 
 by some of the ri^^id separatists, and called a dissembler, 
 and one that halted between two opinions. Thus, as he 
 notes in his diary, one side told him, he was the author 
 of all the mischief in the country, in drawing people from 
 the church ; and the other side told him, he was the au- 
 thor of all the mischief, in drawing people to the church. 
 — And which of these, says he, shall I seek to please ? 
 Lord, neither, but th^^self alone, and my own conscience ; 
 and, while I cauvdo that, I have enough. 
 
 " In a sermon at Whitewell Chapel, one Lord's day in 
 the afternoon, where he and his family, and many of his 
 congregation, were attending, much was said, with some 
 keen reflections, to prove the Dissenters schismatics, and 
 in a damnable state. When he came immediately after 
 to preach at his ovrn. house, before he began his sermon, 
 he expressed himself to this purpose ; — Perhaps some of 
 
H THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 249 
 
 'on may expect now that I should say something in 
 nswer to v/hat we have lieard, by which we have been 
 0 severely charged ; but truly I have something else to 
 .0 ; — and so, without any further notice taken of it, 
 18 went on to preach ' Jesus Christ, and him crucified.' 
 
 " It was not without some fear and trembling, that Mr. 
 lenry received the tidings of the Prince of Orange's 
 ending, in November, 1688, as being somewhat in the 
 ark concerning the clearness of his call, and dreading 
 /•hat might be the consequence of it. He used to say ; 
 - Give peace in our time, 0 Lord,' — was a prayer that 
 e would heartily set his Amen to. But, when secret 
 hings were brought to light, and a regular course was 
 iken to fill the vacant throne with such a king, and 
 Lich a queen, none rejoiced in it more heartily than he 
 id. He celebrated the National Thanksgiving for that 
 reat deliverance, with an excellent sermon on that text, 
 What shall we then say to these things ? If God be 
 )r us, who can be against us ? ' 
 
 " RefeiTing to this change of aSairs, as it affected as- 
 Dciaiing for Christian worship, he thus endeavoured to 
 iise the minds of his flock above the consideration of 
 lere second causes. — Christ is a shield to particular con- 
 regations and assemblies, professing faith in, and obe- 
 . ience to, him ; especially walking worthy of their pro- 
 ] ission, to protect and defend them against the wrath 
 ) nd violence of those who hate them. Are not we our- 
 r slves an instance. Had we been here to-day, if the 
 \ lessed Jesus had not been a shield to us ? Whose hand 
 ut his hath been our covering ? It is true, we have a 
 kfood law, and a good king and queen, but liad they been 
 
250 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 for us if the Lord Jesus had been against us ? No, no ; 
 — he hath been for us, and therefore they. ' The shields 
 of the earth belong unto God.' " 
 
 The nature of the revolution settlement, and the result 
 of the jealousies that had immediately preceded it, soon 
 became apparent in its fruits. Moderate and conscien- 
 tious Nonconfonnists hoped that one of the fruits of the 
 change of government, would have been such a relaxa- 
 tion of the oaths and restrictions imposed on them at the 
 restoration, as would have redeemed the church from its 
 share in the infamy of the Bartholomew act, and ad- 
 mitted of the return of the good men excluded by it, to 
 their former privileges and services within its pale. The 
 following narrative shows how completely dissent was 
 forced upon them : 
 
 " Soon after that happy settlement, there were over- 
 tures made towards a comprehension of the moderate 
 Dissenters with the Church of England ; which Mr. Henry 
 most earnestly desired, and wished for, if it could have 
 been upon any terms less than sinning against his con- 
 science ; for never was any more averse to that which 
 looked like a separation than he was, if he could possibly 
 have helped it. His prayers were constant, and his en- 
 deavours, as he had opportunity, that there might be 
 some healing methods found out and agreed upon. 
 
 " But it was well known what was the voa: cleri at that 
 time, viz. — That, forasmuch as the oaths, subscriptions, 
 and ceremonies, were imposed only to keep out such men, 
 they would never consent to their removal, for the let- 
 ting them in again. Nolumus leges Anglice mutari, was 
 a saying perverted to this purpose; and the fixed prin- 
 
THE REY. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 251 
 
 3iple was, — Better a schism without the church, than a 
 faction within it, &c. This was at that time published 
 ind owned, as the sense of the clergy in convocation. 
 Phis temper and resolve, so contrary to what might have 
 been expected upon that happy and glorious revolution, 
 somewhat altered his sentiments on that matter ; and 
 16 saw himself perfectly driven from them. Despairing, 
 therefore, to see any accommodation, he set himself the 
 nore vigorously to improve the present liberty. 
 
 " In June, 1689, the Act of Indulgence passed, which 
 lot only tolei-ated, but allowed, the Dissenters' meetings, 
 lud took them under the protection of the government. 
 " In allusion to this event Philip Henry thus writes : — 
 The condition of many ministers and people among 
 lurselves, and of many in Franco, has been, in outw^ard 
 ippearance, a dead condition. The words of the Act of 
 LTniformity are, that they shall be as if naturally dead: 
 out^ blessed be God, there hath been a resurrection in 
 oome measure, a coming out of the grave again, of which, 
 vhoever was the instrument, the Lord Jesus himself hath 
 a the principal Agent. He is the Resm-rection to us. 
 >\'hen a company of nonconformists went to court to 
 ongratulate the King and Queen, and to thank them for 
 present liberty, being all clothed alike in long black 
 iks, such as ministers usually wear in London, a scoffer 
 ; — ' Whither are all these going ; — to a burial V 'No, 
 said one of them, 'to a resm-rection.' 
 Soon after, though he never in the least changed his 
 Igment as to the lawfulness of joining in the Common 
 I'rayer, but was still ready to do it occasionally ; yet the 
 iTninisters that preached at Whitewell Chapel, being often 
 
252 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 uucertain in their coming, which kept his meeting at 
 Broad Oak at like uncertainties, to the frequent disappoint- 
 ment of many of his hearers that came from far ; he was 
 at last prevailed upon to preach regularly every Lord's 
 day, which he continued to do while he lived, much to his 
 own satisfaction, and that of his friends. An eminent 
 minister in Lancashire, who in like manner altered his 
 practice about that time, gave this for a reason; — 'That 
 he had been for twenty-seven years striving to please a 
 generation of men, who, after all, v/ould not be pleased ; 
 and therefore he would no longer endeavoui* as he had 
 done.' 
 
 "It may be of use to give some account how Philip 
 Hemy managed his ministerial work in the latter part of 
 his Hfe, wherein he had as signal tokens of the presence 
 of God with him as ever; enabling him still to bring 
 forth fruit in old age, and to renew his youth like the 
 eagles. Though what he did, he still did without pay 
 or recompense and would do so, yet he was not willing to 
 have any constant assistant, nor had he any ; so much 
 was he in his element when he was about his Master's 
 work. 
 
 "As to his constant sabbath work, he was uniform 
 and abundant in it. He began his morning family-wor- 
 ship at eight o'clock, when he read and expounded pretty 
 largely, sung a psalm, and prayed ; and many strove to 
 come time enough to join with him in that ser^'ice. He 
 began, in public, just at nine o'clock, winter and summer. 
 His meeting-place was an out-building of his own, near 
 adjoining to his house, fitted up very decently and con- 
 veniently for the purpose. He began with prayer 1 then 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 253 
 
 he sung Psalm ex. without reading the line ; next, he 
 read and expounded a chapter in the Old Testament in 
 the morning, and in the New Testament in the afternoon. 
 He looked upon the public reading of the Scriptures in 
 religious assemblies to be an ordinance of God, and that 
 :t tended very much to the edification of the people by that 
 ordinance, to have what is read expounded to them. The 
 3are reading of the word he used to compare to the throw- 
 ng of a net into the water ; but, the expounding of it is 
 ike the spreading out of that net, which makes it the 
 nore likely to catch fish ; especially as he managed it, 
 kvith practical, profitable observations. Some that have 
 ^leard him read a chapter with tliis thought, — How will 
 :ie make such a chapter as this useful to us ? — have been 
 liurprised with such pertinent, useful instructions, as they 
 lave owned to be as much for their edification as any 
 ;ermon. Commonly, when he had expounded a chapter, 
 le would desire them, when they came home, to read it 
 )ver, and would recall some of those things that had been 
 spoken to them out of it. 
 
 "In expounding the Old Testament, he industriously 
 sought for something in it concerning Christ, who is the 
 true treasure hid in the field, the true manna hid in the 
 lew of the Old Testament. Take one instance : The last 
 sabbath that ever he spent with his children at Chester, 
 n the public morning worship, he read and expounded 
 the last chapter of the Book of Job. After he had gone 
 through the chapter, and observed what he thought fit 
 out of it, he expressed himself to this purpose. — When I 
 have read a chapter in the Old Testament, I used to 
 .inquire what there is in it that points at Christ, or is any 
 
254 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 way applicable to Christ. Here is in tliis chapter a 
 great deal of Job, but is there nothing of Christ here? 
 Yes. You have heard of the patience of Job, and have 
 in him seen the end of the Lord. This in Job is appli- 
 cable to Christ, that after he had patiently gone through 
 his sufferings, he was appointed an intercessor for his 
 unkind friends. Verse 8. ' Go to my servant Job, and 
 my servant Job shall pray for you, for him will I accept.' 
 If any one hath an errand to God, let him go to Jesus 
 Christ, and put it into his hand, for there is no accep- 
 tance to be hoped for with God, but by him, who is his 
 beloved Son ; not only with whom he is well pleased, 
 but in whom, viz. with us in him, he hath made us 
 accepted in the beloved. 
 
 "On another occasion, having gone through a course of 
 lectures on the real, as distinguished from personal types, 
 of Christ, he concluded the sermon in which he had 
 briefly recapitulated the twelve topics as follows, — Thus 
 I have endeavoured to break these shells that you may 
 come at the kernel. What have we need of, that is not 
 to be had in Christ, — the marrow in all these bones? 
 In him we have an ark against a deluge, a ram to be 
 slain for us, a ladder to get to heaven by, a lamb to take 
 away our sins, manna to feed us, water out of the rock 
 to refi-esh us, a brazen serpent to heal us, purification- 
 blood to cleanse us, a scape-goat to carry our sins- into a 
 land of forgetfulness, a city of refuge to fly to, a temple 
 to pray to, an altar to sanctify all our gifts. Lo, Christ 
 is all this, and infinitely more, therefore we need to look 
 for no other. 
 
 '* After the exposition of the chapter, he sung a psalm, 
 
THB RBV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 255 
 
 and commonly chose a psalm suitable to the chapter he 
 expounded. He often said, — The more singing of psalm?, 
 there is in our families and congregations on sabbath days, 
 the more like they are to heaven, and the more there is 
 in them of the ever lasting sabbath. He would say 
 sometimes, he loved to sing whole psalms, rather than 
 pieces. 
 
 " After the sermon in the morning, he sung the 117th 
 psalm, without reading the line. 
 
 He intermitted at noon about an hour and a half, 
 and on sacrament days not so long, in which time he 
 took some little refreshment in liis study, making no 
 dinner ; yet many of his friends did partake of his 
 carnal, as well as of his spiiituai things, as those did 
 that followed Christ, of whom he was careful they should 
 not feint by the way. The morning sermon was repeated, 
 by a ready writer, to those that stayed in the meeting- 
 place, as many did ; and when that was done, he began 
 the afternoon's exercise ; in which he not only read and 
 expounded a chapter, but catechised the children, and 
 expounded the catechism briefly before sermon. Thus 
 did he go from strength to strength, and from duty to duty, 
 on sabbath days ; running the way of God's command- 
 ments with an enlarged heart. And the variety and 
 vivacity of his public services made them exceedingly 
 pleasant to all who joined with him, none of whom ever 
 had cause to complain of his being tedious." 
 
256 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXVn. 
 
 THE SERVICES AT BROAD OAK. 
 
 Pkobably no one could be found among the long list 
 of pious divines ejected at the restoration who carried 
 the forbearance and moderation we have already des- 
 cribed to such a length. Philip Henry was conscientiously 
 attached to the principle of an established church, as a 
 recognition of scriptural Christianity and the obligations 
 of the divine law by the nation, and therefore he was 
 most tenderly careful to avoid every act that seemed cal- 
 culated to undermine it, even when he was suffering 
 most from the intolerant treatment of all who conscien- 
 tiously differed from it. 
 
 "As to the administration of the sacrament," says his son, 
 when narrating the incidents of his later life; " those myster- 
 ies of God, of which ministers are the stewards; and especi- 
 ally as to the sacrament of baptism ; he had never, that I 
 know of, baptized any children except his own, from the 
 time he was turned out in 1662, till his last liberty came, 
 though often desired to do it; such was the tender regard he 
 had to the established church ; but now he revived the 
 administration of that ordinance in his congregation. The 
 occasion was this : One of the parish ministers, preach- 
 ing at Whitewell Chapel, — Mr. Henry and his family, 
 and many of his friends, being present, — was earnestly 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 267 
 
 cautioning people not to go to conventicles, and used 
 this as an argument against it, — ' That they were bap- 
 tized into the Church of England.' Mr. Henry's catholic 
 charity could not well digest his monopolizing of the great 
 ordinance of baptism, and thought it time to bear his 
 testimony against such narrow principles, of which he 
 ever expressed his dislike. Accordingly he took the next 
 opportunity that offered itself, publicly to baptize a child, 
 and desired the congregation, to bear witness, — That he 
 did not baptize that child into the Church of England, 
 nor into the Church of Scotland, nor into the Church of 
 the Dissenters, nor into the church at Broad Oak, but 
 into the visible catholic church of Jesus Christ. After 
 this he baptized very many, and always publicly, though, 
 being in the country, they were commonly carried a good 
 way. The jpublic administration of baptism, he not only 
 judged most agreeable to the nature and end of the ordi- 
 nance, but found it to be very profitable and edifying to 
 • he congregation; for he always took that occasion, not only 
 0 explain the nature of the ordinance, but affectionately 
 ind pathetically to excite people duly to improve their 
 )aptism. He usually received the child immediately out 
 )f the hands of the parent that presented it, and returned 
 t into the same hands again, with this or the like 
 ;harge, — Take this child, and bring it up for God. He 
 ised to say, that one advantage of public baptism was, 
 hat there were many to join in prayer for the child, in 
 vhich therefore, and in blessing God for it, he was usually 
 -ery large and particular. After he had baptized the 
 ild, before he gave it back to the ]tarent, he commonly 
 1 t):esc \vrnl< ; wcc'.ve t'^- cli: r'c r<f.t 
 
258 
 
 LIFE A5D TIMES OF 
 
 gregation of Christ's church, having washed it with 
 water, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
 the Holy Ghost, in token that hereafter it shall not be 
 ashamed to confess Christ crucified, and manfully to 
 fight under his banner, against sin, the world, and the 
 devil : and to continue Christ's faithful soldier and ser- 
 vant unto his life's end. 
 
 " He baptized many adult persons, that, through the 
 error of their parents, were not baptized in infancy, and 
 some of them in public. 
 
 " The solemn ordinance of the Lord's supper he con- 
 stantly celebrated in his congregation once a month, and 
 always to a very- considerable number of communicants. 
 He did not usually observe public days of preparation for 
 that ordinance, other than as they fell in course in the 
 weekly lectures, nor did he ever appropriate any particu- 
 lar subject of his preaching to sacrament days, having a 
 great felicity in adapting any profitable subject to such 
 an occasion ; and he would say, what did the primitive 
 Christians do, when they celebrated the Lord's supper 
 every Lord's day ? His administration of this ordinance 
 was veiy solemn and affecting. He had been wont to 
 go about in the congregation and to deliver the elements 
 with his own hand ; but in his latter time, he delivered 
 them only to those near him, and so they were handed 
 from one to another, with the assistance of one who sup- 
 phed the office of a deacon, as having also the custody 
 and disposal of the money gathered for the use of the 
 poor; Mr. Henry taking and carefully keeping a particular 
 account of it. 
 
 " Such as desired to be admitted to the Lord's supper, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 269 
 
 he first discoursed with concerning their spiritual state, 
 and how the case stood between God and their souls ; not 
 only to examine them, but to instruct and teach them, and 
 to encourage them as.he saw occasion; gently leading those 
 whom he d iscerned to be serious, though weak and timorous. 
 He usually discoursed with them more than once, as find- 
 ing ' precept upon precept, and line upon line ' necessary ; 
 but he did it with so much mildness, humility, and 
 tenderness, and endeavour to make the best of every- 
 body, as did gi-eatly affect and win upon many. He 
 was herein like our great Master, who can have ' compas- 
 sion on the ignorant,' and doth not ' despise the day of 
 small things.' 
 
 " But his admission of young people out of the rank of 
 catechumens into that of communicants had a peculiar 
 solemnity in it. Such as he catechised when they grew 
 up to years of discretion, if he observed them to be intel- 
 ligent and serious, and to set their faces heavenwards, he 
 marked them out to be admitted to the Lord's supper, 
 and when he had a competent number of such, twelve or 
 fifteen, perhaps, or more, he ordered each of them to come 
 to him severally, and discoursed with them of the things 
 belonging to their everlasting peace, put it to their choice 
 whom they would serve, and endeavoured to affect them 
 • with those things with which, by their catechisms, they had 
 been made acquainted, drawing them with ' the cords of 
 a man, and the bands of love,' into the way which is 
 called holy. For several Lord's days he catechised them 
 particularly in public, touching the Lord's supper, and 
 the duty of preparation for it, and their baptismal cove 
 uant, which in that ordinance they were to take upou 
 
260 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 themselves, and to make their own act and deed. Often 
 telling them upon such occasions, that they were not 
 come under any greater obligation than they were al- 
 ready bound to by their baptism, but only to bind them- 
 selves faster to it. Then he appointed a day, in the 
 week before the ordinance, when in a solemn assembly he 
 prayed for them, and preached a sermon to them, proper 
 to their age and circumstances ; and so the following 
 sabbath they were all received together to the Lord's 
 supper. This he looked upon as the right confirmation, 
 or transition into the state of adult church-membership. 
 The more solemn our covenanting with God is, the more 
 deep and the more durable the impressions are likely to be. 
 He hath recorded it in his diary, upon one of these occasions, 
 as his heart's desire and prayer for those who were thus 
 admitted, — That it might be as the day of their espousals 
 to the Lord Jesus, and that they might each of them 
 have a wedding-garment. 
 
 " The discipline he observed in his congregation was 
 not such as he could have wished for, but the best he 
 could get, considering what a scattered flock he had. 
 However, I see not but the end was effectually attained 
 by the methods he took, though there wanted the for- 
 mality of oflicers and church-meetings for the purpose. 
 If he heard of any that walked disorderly, he sent for 
 them, and reproved them gently or sharply, as he saw 
 the case required. If the sin had scandal in it, he sus- 
 pended them from the ordinance of the Lord's supper 
 till they gave some tokens of their repentance and refor- 
 mation. And where the offence was public and gross, 
 his judgment was that some public satisfaction should be 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 261 
 
 made to the congregation before re-admission. But 
 whatever offence did happen, or breaches of the Christian 
 peace, Mr. Henry's peculiar excellence lay in restoring 
 with the spii'it of meekness ; which with his great pru- 
 dence and love, and condescension, so much commanded 
 the respect of his people, and won upon them, that there 
 was imiversal satisfaction in all his management ; and 
 it may be ti*uly said of him, as it was of David, that 
 ' whatsoever he did pleased all the people.' 
 
 " He was very strict and very serious in observing the 
 public fasts appointed by authorit}', and called them a de- 
 light. He had seldom any one to assist him in carrying 
 on the duties of those days, but performed the service 
 himself alone. He began at nine o'clock, and never 
 stirred out of the pulpit till about four in the afteraoon, 
 spending all that time in praying, expounding, singing, 
 and preaching, to the admiration of all that heard him, 
 who were generally more on such days than usual. He 
 was sometimes observed to be more warm and lively to- 
 wards the latter end of the duties of a fast-day than at 
 the beginning ; as if the spirit were most ^villing and en- 
 larged when the flesh was most weak. In all his per- 
 formances on public fast-days, he attended to tliat which 
 was the proper work of the day : ' everything is beautiful 
 inits season.' His prayers and pleadings with God on those 
 days were especially for national mercies, and the pardon 
 of national sins. How excellently did he order the cause 
 before God, and fill liis mouth with arguments in his large 
 and particular intercessions for the land, for the King, 
 the government, the arm}', the navy, the church, the 
 French Protestants, &c. He was another Jacob a 
 
262 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 WTestler, an Israel, a prince with God. Before a fast-daj 
 he would be more than ordinarily inquisitive concerning 
 the state of public affairs, that he might know the better 
 how to order his prayers and preaching ; for on such a 
 day, he hath sometimes said, — As good say nothing, as 
 nothing to the purpose. He made it his business on fast- 
 days, to show people their transgressions, especially * the 
 house of Jacob their sins.' It is most proper, said he, to 
 preach of Christ on Lord's days, to preach of sin on fast- 
 days, and to preach duty on both. Hj'pocrisy in hearers, 
 and flattery in preachers, as he would sometimes say, is 
 bad at any time, but it is especially abominable upon a 
 day of humiliation. 
 
 " He preached a great many lectures in the country 
 about, some stated, some occasional, in supplying which 
 he was very indefatigable. He has sometimes preached 
 a lecture, ridden eight or nine miles, and preached ano- 
 ther, and the next day two more. To quicken himself 
 to diligence he would often say. Our opportunities are 
 passing away, we must work while it is day, for the 
 night cometh. Once, having very wet and foul wea- 
 ther to go through to preach a lecture, he said, he 
 comforted himself with two scriptures ; one was ' Endure 
 hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ ; ' the other, 
 because he exposed and hazarded his health, for which 
 some blamed him, was, ' It was before the Lord.' He 
 took all occasions in his lectures abroad, to possess 
 the minds of people with sober and moderate princi- 
 ples, and to stu' them up to the serious regard of those 
 things wherein we are all agreed. — We are not met 
 here together, said he, once in an exhortation, with 
 
THE BEY. PHILIP HEXBT. 263 
 
 idiich he often began at his lecture, because we think 
 (jurselves better than others, but because we desire to 
 be better than we are. 
 
 ' At the monthly lectures at his own house, he chose 
 
 preach upon the four last things, death and judg- 
 ment, heaven and hell, in manv particulars, but com- 
 monly a new text for every sermon- When he had, 
 in many sermons, finished the first of the four, one 
 that used to hear him sometimes, inquiring of his pro- 
 gress in his subjects, asked Mm if he had done with 
 death, meaning that subject concerning death ; to which 
 he pleasantly replied, No, I have not done with him 
 yet- I must have another turn with him, and he will 
 give me a fall ; but I hope to have the victory at last. 
 He would sometimes remove the lectures in the country 
 
 ;n one place to another, for the benefit of those 
 :iiiit could not travel. Once having adjourned a lec- 
 ture to a new place, he began it with a sermon on 
 xT,-ii. 6, " These men that have turned the world 
 . .joide down, are come hither also ; ' in which he showed 
 how false the charge is as they meant it ; for religion 
 doth not disturb the peace of famiUes, or societies, doth 
 not cause any disorder or unquietness, &c. And yet, 
 that in another sense there is a great truth in it, that, 
 when the gospel comes in power to any soul, it turns 
 the world upside down in that soul ; such is the change 
 it makes there. 
 
 All tills lie did gratis, and without being burthen- 
 
 ne to any ; nay, he was best pleased, when, at the 
 places where he preached, notliing was got for his 
 entertainment, but he came home, thoygh some milest 
 
264 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 fasting ; as in other places it was a trouble to him 
 to see his friends careful about much serving, though 
 it was out of their respect to him. 
 
 " Lastly. As he was an excellent preacher himself, 
 so he was an exemplary hearer of the word, when 
 others preached, though every way his inferiors ; so 
 reverent, serious, and attentive was he in hearing, and 
 so observant of what was spoken. I have heard him 
 tell, that ho knew one, and I suppose it was as Paul 
 knew a man in Christ, who could truly say, to the 
 glory of God, that for forty years he had never slept 
 at a sermon." 
 
 Such will suffice to convey to the reader some idea of 
 the temperance, the prudence, the brotherly-kindness, 
 charity, and love with which this devoted servant of 
 Christ went about his Master's business. Nothing de- 
 lighted him but to spend and be spent in the service of 
 Christ ; and yet so sweetly was his zeal tempered by the 
 lioly fear of a tender conscience, that he dreaded, lest 
 while engaged in this labour of love, he should hinder 
 even those who preached the gospel from contention 
 and strife. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGES AT BROAD OAK. 
 
 The closing years of Philip Henry had no other trials 
 to chequer the evening of a life so nobly spent in 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 266 
 
 his Master's cause, than such sorrows as ever mingle with 
 the human lot. We shall select some of the incidents 
 of these years from the narrative of his son. 
 
 "As to the circumstances of his family," says he, "in 
 these last nine years of his life, they were somewhat dif- 
 ferent from what they had been ; but the same candle of 
 God which had shined upon his tabernacle, continued 
 still to do so. In the years 1687 and 1688, he married 
 all his five children — the three eldest in four months' 
 time, in the year 1687 ; and the other two in a j'ear and 
 a half after ; so many swarms, as he used to call them, 
 out of his hive, and all not only with his full consent, 
 but to his abundant comfort and satisfaction. He would 
 say he thought it the duty of parents to study to oblige their 
 children in that affair. And though never could chil- 
 dren be more easy and at rest in a father's house than 
 his were, yet he would sometimes say concerning them, 
 as Kaomi to Ruth, ' Shall I not seek rest for thee V 
 Two advices he used to give, both to his children and 
 others, in their choice of that relation. One was, — 
 Keep within the bounds of profession, such as one may 
 charitably hope is from a good principle. The other 
 was, — Look at suitableness in age, quality, education, 
 temper, &c. He would commonly say to his children, 
 with reference to that choice : Please God, and please 
 > ourselves, and you shall never displease me ; and he 
 greatly blamed those parents who conclude matches for 
 their children, and do not ask counsel of themselves. 
 
 " He never aimed at great things in the world for his 
 children, but sought for them, in the first place, the king- 
 dom of God, and the righteousness thereof He used to 
 
266 
 
 LITE AND TIMES OP 
 
 mention, sometimes, the saying of a pious gentlewoman, 
 who had many daughters ; — " The care of most people is 
 how to get good husbands for their daughters ; but my 
 care is to fit my daughters to be good wives, and then let 
 God provide for them." In this, as in other things, Mr. 
 Henry steered by that principle, — That a man's life 
 consisteth not in the abundance of the things that he 
 possesseth. And it pleased God so to order it, that 
 he saw all his children married, in very agreeable 
 and comfortable circumstances, both for life and godli- 
 ness. 
 
 " Speaking of the aii-angements of outward comforts, 
 and the eagerness of the affections towards them, he 
 would remark, that, — God hath three hands, wherewith 
 he distributes earthly things : A hand of common pro- 
 vidence ; with this he feeds the ravens, when they cry; 
 a hand of special love ; with this he feeds his children, 
 who commit their way to him, and put their trust in 
 him ; a hand of anger and wrath ; with this he gives 
 to those who are impatient : they must and will be rich ; 
 they must and will have this or that. In gifts from men 
 we look more at the mind of the giver than the value of 
 the gift. So should we in gifts from God. Have I his 
 love with what I have ? Then I am well enough. If 
 otherwise it is but a sad portion ; as a golden suit with 
 the plague in it. 
 
 " All his four daughters were married at White well 
 Chapel, and he preached a wedding-sermon for each of 
 them in his own family-circle after. 
 
 While he lived he had much comfort in all his chil- 
 dren, and their yoke-fellows, and somewhat the more, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 267 
 
 that, by Divine Providence, four of the five families 
 which branched out of his, were settled in Chester. 
 
 " His youngest daughter was married April 26, 
 1688, the same day of the year, as he observes in his 
 diary, and the same day of the week, and in the same 
 place, that he was married to liis dear wife, twenty-eight 
 years before ; upon which, this is his remark ; — I cannot 
 desire for them, that they should receive more from God 
 than we have received, in that relation and condition ; 
 but I would desire, and do desire, that they may do more 
 for God in it than we have done. 
 
 " His usual compliment to his new-married friends, 
 was ; — Others wish you all happiness, I wish you all 
 holiness, and then there is no doubt but you will have 
 
 ♦ all happiness. 
 "When the marriage of th,e last of his daughters 
 was about to be contracted, he thus ^^-rites ; — But ' is 
 Joseph gone, and Simeon gone, and must Benjamin go 
 also ? ' We \nll not say, that ' all these things are 
 against ' us, but for us. If we must be thus, in this 
 merciful way, bereaved of our children, let us be be- 
 reaved ; and God turn it for good to them, as we know 
 he will, if they love and fear his name. When, some 
 time after she was married, he parted with her to go to 
 the house of her husband, he thus wTites ; — We have 
 sent her away, not as Laban said he would have sent his 
 daughters away, \Wth ' mirth, and with songs, with tab- 
 ret, and with harp,' but with prayers, and tears, and 
 hearty good wishes. — And now, says he, in his diary, we 
 are alone again, as we were in our beginning. God be 
 better to us than twenty children. Upon the same oo- 
 
268 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 casion he thus writes to a dear relation ; — "We are now 
 left as we were, one and one, and yet but one one ; the 
 Lord/ I trust, that has brought us thus far, will enable 
 us to finish well ; and then all will be well, and not till 
 then. 
 
 " That which he often mentioned, as the matter of his 
 great comfort that it was so, and his desire that it might 
 continue so, was the love and unity that was among his 
 children ; and that, as he writes, the transplanting of 
 them into new relations, had not lessened that love, but 
 rather increased it ; for this he often gave thanks to the 
 God of love ; noting, from Job i. 4 ; — That the children's 
 love to one another is the parents' comfort and joy. In 
 his last will and testament, this is the prayer which he 
 puts up for his children, — That the Lord would build 
 them up in holiness, and continue them still in brotherly 
 love, as ' a bundle of arrows which cannot be broken.' 
 
 " When his children were removed from him, he was 
 a daily intercessor at the throne of grace for them, and 
 their families. Still the burnt -offerings were offered 
 ' according to the number of them all.' He used to say ; 
 — Surely, the children of so many prayers will not mis- 
 carry. 
 
 "The greatest af&iction Philip Henry saw in his family, 
 was the death of his dear daughter-in-law, Catharine, 
 Mathew's first wife, the only daughter of Samuel Hard- 
 ware, Esq. ; who, about a year and a half after she was 
 transplanted into his family, to which she was the 
 greatest comfort and ornament imaginable, died of the 
 small-pox in child-bed, upon the thanksgiving-day for 
 King William's coming in. She died but a few weeks 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 289 
 
 after Mr. Henry had mamed the last of his daughters ; 
 upon which marriage she had said, — * Now we have a 
 full lease, God only knows which life will drop fii-st.' 
 She comforted herself in the extremity of her illness 
 with this word ; — ' Well, when I come to heaven, I shall 
 see that I could not have been without this affliction.' 
 She had been for some time before under some fears as 
 to her spiritual state, but the clouds were, through grace, 
 dispelled, and she finished her course with joy, and a 
 cheerful expectation of the glory to be revealed. When 
 she lay ill, Mr. Henry, being in fear not only for her that 
 was ill, but for the rest of his children in Chester, who 
 had none of them past the pikes* of that perilous dis- 
 temper, wrote thus to his son, on the evening of the 
 Lord's day : — I have just done the public work of this 
 day, wherein, before many scores of witnesses, many of 
 whom, I dare say, are no little concerned for you, I have 
 absolutely, freely, and unreservedly, given you all up to , 
 the good-will and pleasure of our heavenly Father, wait- 
 ing what he will do with us, for good I am sure we have 
 received, and shall we not receive evil also ? 
 
 " When two of his cliildren lay ill, and in perilous 
 circumstances, after he had been wrestling with God in 
 prayer for them, he wrote thus in his diary ; — If the 
 Lord w^ill be pleased to grant me my request this time 
 concerning my children, I will not say as the beggars at 
 
 • In reference to this quaint phrase Sir J. B. Williams adds the following 
 note: "Mr. Paul Bayne, in his Christian Letters, p. 24G, urges for conso- 
 lation, that it is, — ' promised we shall passe the pikes, and bring forth, 
 though with sorrows.' In another of his works he says; — 'We see that 
 who will keepe life and power in his course, endeavouring a good con- 
 science in all things, they must passe the pikes of evil tongues which are 
 ■ shaken against them.' " 
 
270 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 our door are wont to do ; — I'll never ask anything of him 
 again ; but, on the contrary, he shall hear oftener from 
 me than ever ; and I will love God the better, and love 
 prayer the better, as long as I live. He used to say, — 
 Tradesmen take it ill if those that are in their books go 
 to another shop. While we are so much indebted to God 
 for past mercies, we are bound to attend him for further 
 mercies. 
 
 " When the families of his children were in health and 
 peace, the candle of God shining upon their tabernacles, 
 he wrote thus to them ; — It was one of Job's comforts 
 in his prosperity, that his children loved one another, 
 and feasted together. The same is ours in you, which, 
 God continue. But you will not be offended, if we pray 
 that you may none of you curse God in your hearts. 
 Remember the wheel is always in motion, and the spoke 
 that is uppermost will be under, and therefore mix trem- 
 blings always with your joys. 
 
 " He had in eight years' time, twenty-four grand-chil- 
 dren born ; some by each of his children ; concerning 
 whom he would often bless God, that they were all the 
 sealed ones of the God of heaven, and enrolled among 
 his lambs. On the birth of his second grand-child, at a 
 troublesome time as to public affairs, he thus writes ; — I 
 have now seen my children's children ; let me also see 
 peace upon Israel ; and then 1 will say, — ' Lord, now 
 lettest thou thy servant depart.' Some were much affected 
 with it, when he baptized two of his grand-children toge- 
 ther at Chester, publicly, and preached on Genesis xxxiii. 
 5. — 'They are the children which God hath graciously 
 given thy servant.' 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 271 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ADOPTED SONSL 
 
 We have already seen the anxiety of one friend of 
 Philip Henry to place his son under his guidance, and 
 no sooner did the happy circle that had so long gladdened 
 his heart, leave it, to follow his example in the duties 
 that devolve on the married state, than he received 
 numerous applications from those who desired to see 
 their sons grow up under the same delightful instruction 
 and example ; and follow in the same course of useful- 
 ness and honour as his son was already doing ; — treading 
 in his father's steps. 
 
 " It was not long," says his son, "after his children were 
 married from him, when his house was again filled with 
 the children of several of his friends, whom he was, by 
 much importunity, persuaded to take to table with him. 
 All that knew him, thought it a thousand pities that such a 
 master of a household should have but a small family, and 
 should not have many to sit down under his shadow. 
 He was first almost necessitated to it, by the death of his 
 dear fiiend and kinsman, Mr. Benyon, of Ash, who leffc 
 his children to his care= Some he took gratis, or for 
 small consideration ; and when, by reason of the advances 
 of age, he could not go about so much as he had done, 
 doing good, he laid out himself to do the more at home. 
 He kept a teacher to attend their school-learning ; and 
 
m 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 they had the benefit not only of his inspection in that, 
 but of what was much more valuable, his family-worship, 
 sabbath instructions, catechising, and daily converse, in 
 which his tongue was as choice silver, and his lips fed 
 many. Nothing but the hope of doing some good to the 
 rising generation could have prevailed with him to take 
 this trouble upon him. He would often say ; — We have 
 a busy house, but there is a rest remaining. We must be 
 doing something in the world while we are in it ; but 
 this fashion will not last long, methinks I see it passing 
 away. 
 
 Sometimes he had those with him who had gone 
 through their course of university-learning at private 
 academies, and desired to spend some time in his family, 
 before their entrance upon the ministry, that they might 
 have the benefit, not only of his public and family instruc- 
 tions, but of liis learned and pious converse, in which, as 
 he was thoroughly furnished for every good word and 
 work, so he was very free and communicative. The great 
 thing which he used to press upon those who intended 
 to devote themselves to the ministry, was to study the 
 Scriptures, and make them familiar. Bonus textuariiLS 
 est bonus theologus, was a maxim he often reminded them 
 of. For this purpose he recommended to them the study 
 of the Hebrew, that they might be able to search the 
 Scriptures in the original. He also advised them to use 
 an interleaved Bible, wherein to insert such expositions 
 and observations as occur occasionally in sermons or 
 other books : which he would say, are more happy and 
 valuable sometimes, than those that are found in the 
 professed commentators. When some young men desired 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 273 
 
 the happiness of coming into his family, he would tell 
 them ; — You come to me, as Naaman did to Elisha, 
 expecting that I should do this and the other thing for you, 
 and, alas, I can but say as he did, Go, wash in Jordan. 
 Go, study the Scriptures. I profess to teach no other 
 learning but scripture-learning." 
 
 Philip Henry was now in his sixty- third year, and he 
 felt the advances of age compelling him to abate his 
 labours, though no inducement of declining strength 
 seemed to him sufficient reason for his quitting his Mas- 
 ter's work, ere the day was done, and the evening sun of 
 life had set. 
 
 The following brief, but very characteristic note, was 
 addressed to his old friend, the Rev. Francis Tallents, of 
 Salop, a little more than two years before his death. It 
 is subscribed with his " hearty love and respects," and 
 contains a quaint riddle, which the reader will not pro- 
 bably find a very great puzzle to unriddle. 
 
 " Dear Brother, 
 
 " I received yours by Mr. Travers ; and, though 
 I am so near you, and though it be so much Jn my de- 
 sires to see you both, yet, being at present not in a 
 capacity to do it, through my great indisposedness to 
 travel, further than needs must, (especially winter tra- 
 vel, unless about my Master's immediate work,) yet, 
 having so fair an opportunity, a line is better than 
 nothing, if it be only to wish you both a holy, happy, 
 new year, and to present you with a new-year's gift, — 
 which is, a half-moon, the body of the sun, and the 
 
 8 
 
274 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OP 
 
 fourth part of a star ; which, when you have put to- 
 gether, you will find me, as always, 
 " Dear sir, 
 
 " Your coRdial brother, 
 " Friend, Cousin, Servant, 
 " P. H." 
 
 January 1, 1693-4. 
 
 In a letter addressed a few months later to his daugh- 
 ter, Mrs. Savage, his allusions indicate the failing strength 
 of his long-tried and faithful partner. " It is long," he 
 writes, " since we heard from you, and it is since you 
 heard from us ; and we thought it long. As yours to us 
 brings no evil tidings from the wood," — meaning Wren- 
 bury Wood, his daughter's residence, — " so neither doth 
 this to you from the Oak." — i. e. Broad Oak. — " Your 
 mother continues to mend, through God's goodness, and 
 bids me tell you she is better, — God be praised, — to-day 
 than she was yesterday, and yesterday than the day be- 
 fore. She has come down stairs, and that is, to her, like 
 launching into a sea again ; for we have at present a 
 troublesome house of it." 
 
 We shall conclude this chapter with the following 
 affectionate and very characteristic letter to his old and 
 tried friend, the Rev. Francis Tallents. It is dated 
 August 13th, 1694, and runs as follows : — 
 
 "Dear Cousin and Brother, 
 
 " I came from home on Saturday, not without 
 some hopeful thoughts of seeing you two, and dear Mr. 
 Bryan, in his present illness, this day but the weather 
 and ways are grown suddenly such, that really, Sir, I dare 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRT. 
 
 275 
 
 not venture, for my strength will not bear it ; and I dare 
 not tempt God. I am therefore hastening back to my 
 nest, where the young ones are, at present, such and so 
 many, that tlie poor hen, though she can do as much as 
 another, yet, alone, cannot manage them without me. 
 If we do any good, it is well ; the Lord accept of it in 
 Christ ; but, I am sure, it is not without a gi-eat deal of 
 care and cumber to ourselves in our declining age. It 
 was a special providence to gratify dear Cos. Benyon, 
 that at first brought us into it ; and I wait upon the 
 same providence, in what way the Lord pleases, for there 
 are many waj's, to let us fairly out again, that we may 
 not break prison. I pray this, once more, accept of this 
 true excuse ; and give my dear love and respects to good 
 Mr, Bryan, and tell liim, my heart is with him, and my 
 daily prayers are to God for him. If there be more 
 work to be done, well : he shall recover to do it ; if not 
 better, (for him better, whatever for others,) there is a 
 rest remaining. We serve a good Master. 
 
 " Dearest love to you both. The Eternal God be your 
 refiige ; and underneath you be his everlasting arms, 
 living, dj-ing. Amen ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE CLOSE. 
 
 When Philip Henry reached his sixty-third year he 
 seems to have regarded it as the close of his appointed 
 
276 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 pilgrims^e on earth ; it was the age at which his father 
 died ; and the near approach to the threescore and ten 
 years of man's allotted span, gave him further occasion 
 for solemn reflection on the anticipations of the great 
 and final change. Yet it will readily be believed that 
 the good old man looked forward to the struggle with the 
 last enemy, cheered by many enlivening hopes, and by 
 the faith that had borne him through many trials and 
 sore aflB^ictions. The cheerfulness ^vith which he mingled 
 the allusion to his fast failing strength, and the good 
 hope through grace, with which he gladdened the old 
 home-circle at Broad Oak, with his own quaint fancies 
 and illustrations, is very happily exemplified in the fol- 
 lowing passages from a letter to his old friend and fellow- 
 labourer, the Rev. Francis Tallents : 
 
 " I rejoice in the continuance of your mercies, that 
 your bow doth yet abide in strength, and that my dear 
 sister also is spared to you in her usefulness. The Lord's 
 most holy name be blessed and praised for it ! It seems 
 you have your trials with them, mixtures for exercise. 
 God will have you yet to shine brighter ; the dish-clouts 
 that he makes use of must help to do it ; theirs the 
 shame, yours the honour. Qui volens detrahit fam<E 
 tuce nolens volens addit mercedi tv/je. It is a sign we gallop 
 in our way, Avhen the dogs follow us barking. Slack not 
 your pace, though they do so. There wiU as certainly be 
 a resurrection of names, as of bodies, and both with ad- 
 vantage. Both as the sun at noon-day. I know not 
 when I shall be so happy as to see you at Salop, though 
 I much desire it. I am like a traveller's horse that 
 knows its stages, which, if he exceed, he tires and is the 
 
THE RET. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 277 
 
 worse for it. Hither, once a quarter, is my mn pltis 
 ultra. I have not been at Chester, though I have many 
 loadstones there, above these thirteen months. 
 
 " Once a week, and sometimes twice, I keep my circuit 
 of two miles, or four miles, each Wednesday, by which 
 time I am recovered from my sabbath weariness ; and, 
 by the time I am recovered from that, the sabbath work 
 returns again ; so that I am never not weary. But why 
 do I tell you this ? — That I may boast what a labourer 
 T am ? I am a loiterer, a trifler, a slug. Magnis conaii- 
 
 ■s nihil ago. It is that you may know wherein tohel|> 
 ine with your prayers. Beg for me, that I may be found 
 faithful, and that, wliile I preach to others, I myself may 
 not be a cast-away. I have some hope, through grace, 
 that I shall not ; but the heart is deceitful, the devil is 
 busj-, and God is just and holy. Only this I trust to, — 
 ■ Christ hath died, yea, rather, is risen again.' 
 
 " Dear love, and service to you both. The Lord him- 
 self be your everlasting portion. Amen. 
 This, from 
 
 Your affectionate obliged Brother, 
 Friend, Servant in our dear Lord, 
 
 P. H." 
 
 Matthew Henry remarks of his father : " In the time 
 of his health, he made death very familiar to himself, by 
 frequent and pleasing thoughts and meditations of it ; 
 and endeavoured to make it so to his friends, by speaking 
 often of it. His letters and discourses had still some- 
 thing or other which spoke his constant expectations of 
 death. Thus did he learn to ' die daily.' And it is hard 
 
278 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 to say whether it was more easy to him to speak, or un- 
 easy to his friends to hear liim speak, of leaving the 
 world. This reminds me of a passage I was told by a 
 worthy Scotch minister, Mr. Patrick Adair, that, visiting 
 Mr. Durham, of Glasgow, in his last sickness, which was 
 long and lingering, he said to him, Sir, I hope you have 
 so set all in order, that you have nothing else to do but 
 to die. ' I bless God,' said Mr. Durham, ' I have not 
 had that to do these many years.' Such is the comfort 
 of dying daily, when we come to die indeed. 
 
 " Mr. He&ry, some time before his last illness, had a 
 severe attack of disease, which greatly excited the alarm 
 of his friends. His excellent wife was then on a visit to 
 her daughter, Mrs. Savage, at Wrenbury Wood. How 
 his own mind was affected by the apparent approach of 
 the last enemy will be seen by the following letter : — 
 
 " Dear Daughter ; 
 
 " This is to you because of yours to me. 
 I am glad to see you so well so quickly, as to be able to 
 write, — that your ' right hand hath net forgot its cun- 
 ning ; ' neither hatli mine yet. I had an ill day yester- 
 day, and an ill night after, but ease came in the morning. 
 1 have been preaching Christ, ' the door ' to God, and 
 letting a little one in to him by the door of baptism, and 
 hope for strength for the afternoon work, though in some 
 pain, yet less than deserved. Your mother hath some- 
 times told me, she could not endure to see me die, and 
 for that reason I was glad she was away, for I thought, 
 all night, there was ^but a step.' Here are many 
 people, and they are come to hear of Christ ; and willing, 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 279- 
 
 I am, they should, and that they should learn what I have 
 learaed of him. I can cheerfully say, — ' Lord, now lettest 
 thou thy servant depart in peace ! ' God increase your 
 strength, and especially your thankfulness, and ' write 
 the name of the child in the book of the living.' 
 
 "My dear love to my wife, and to yourself and husband, 
 and all the rest, I am glad that she is acceptable to 
 you, and am willing she should be so. while she and you 
 please. 
 
 " Mr. Henry's constitution was delicate, and yet by 
 the blessing of God upon his great temperance and mo- 
 derate exercise by walking in the air, he did for many 
 years enjoy a good measure of health, which he used to 
 call the sugar that sweetens all temporal mercies ; for 
 which, therefore, we ought to be very thankful, and of 
 which we ought to be very careful. 
 
 " He had sometimes violent fits of colic, which occa- • 
 sioned him acute suffering. Towards the end of his life he 
 was distressed sometimes with a pain, which his doctors 
 ascribed to a disease in the kidneys. Once when recover- 
 ing from a violent fit of pain, he said to one of his friends 
 that asked him how he did, — he hoped by the grace of 
 God he should now be able to give one blow more to 
 the devil's kingdom ; and often professed he did not . 
 desire to live a day longer than he might do God some 
 service. He said to another, when he perceived himself 
 recovering. Well, I thought I had been putting into the 
 harbour but I find I must to sea again. 
 
 He was sometimes suddenly taken with fainting fits, 
 which when he recovered from, he would say, Dying is 
 but a little more. 
 
280 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 " When he was in the sixty-third of his age, which is 
 commonly called the grand climacteriCj and hath been to 
 many the dying year, and was so to his father, he num- 
 bered the days of it, from August 24, 1693, to August 
 24, 1694, when he finished it. And when he concluded 
 it, he thus wrote in his diary : This day finisheth my 
 commonly dying year, which I have numbered the days 
 of, and should now apply my heart, more than ever, to 
 heavenly wisdom. 
 
 " He was much pleased with that expression of our 
 English liturgy in the office of burial, and frequently 
 used it : ' In the midst of life we are in death.' 
 
 "The infirmities of age, when they grew upon him, did 
 very little abate his vigour and liveliness in preaching ; 
 but he seemed even to renew his youth as the eagles : 
 as those that are planted in the house of the Lord, who 
 still bring forth fruit in old age, not so much to show 
 that they are upright, as to show that the Lord is up- 
 right. But in his latter years travelling was very trou- 
 blesome t(J him, and he often said, as Mr. Dod used to do, 
 in allusion to Samson, that when he thought to shake 
 himself as at other times, he found his hair was cut ; 
 his sense of this led him to preach not long before he 
 died from the text, ' When thou wast young, thou gird- 
 edst thyself,' &c. Another sermon he preached for his 
 own comfort, and the comfort of his aged friends, on 
 Psalm Ixxi. 17, 18, '0 God thou hast taught me from 
 my youth,' &c. He observed there that it is a blessed 
 thing to be taught of God from our youth, and those that 
 have been so taught ought to declare his wondrous 
 works all their days after. And those that have been 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 281 
 
 taught of God from their youth, and have all their 
 days declared his wondrous works, may comfortably ex- 
 pect that when they are old he will not forsake them. 
 Christ is a master that doth not use to cast off his old 
 servants. 
 
 *• On another occasion he writes : It was David's prayer, 
 ' 0 God, thou hast taught me fi-om my youth, and hither- 
 to have I declared all thy wondrous works. Now, also, 
 when I am old and grey-headed, 0 God, forsake me not.' 
 And we should thus pray. For when God forsakes, it is 
 like as when the soul forsakes the body. There is nothing 
 left but a carcass. It is as when the sun forsakes the 
 earth, which causes night and winter. It is as when the 
 fountain forsakes the cistern, for God alone is the Foun- 
 tain. It is as when the father forsakes the children. 
 It is as when the pilot forsakes the ship ; then she is 
 in great danger of rocks and quicksands. It is as when 
 the physician forsakes the patient, which is not till the 
 case is desperate. It is as when the guide forsakes the 
 traveller, and then he is exposed to many dangers. 
 
 " For some years before he died, he used to complain 
 of an habitual weariness, contracted, he thought, by his 
 standing to preach, sometimes very uneasily, and in in- 
 convenient places, immediately after riding. He would 
 say, every minister was not cut out for an itinerant; and 
 sometimes the manifest attention and affection of people 
 in hearing enlarged him both in length and fervency, 
 somewhat more than his strength could well bear. It 
 was not many months before he died, that he wrote thus 
 to a dear relation, who inquired solicitously concerning 
 his health : I am always habitually weary, and expect 
 
282 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 no other till I lie down in the bed of spices. And, 
 blessed be God, so the grave is to all the saints, since he 
 lay in it who is the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the 
 valleys. When some of his friends persuaded him to 
 spare himself he would say, It is time enough to rest 
 when I am in the grave. What were candles made for, 
 but to burn 1 
 
 " One of the last letters he wrote to Mrs. Savage is 
 thus expressed, and it manifests the enlightened and 
 calm anticipation he indulged in as to his final change : 
 
 May 28, 1695. 
 
 "Dear DAuaHTER 
 
 " You are loath to part with your 
 sister, but you know this is not the world we are to 
 be together in ; and, besides, it is to a father and mother, 
 that are to be but a while, either for her or you to come 
 to. These short partings should mind us of the long one 
 which will be shortly, but then the meeting again, to be 
 together for ever, and with the Lord, is very comfortable 
 in the hope; and much more will it be so in the fruition. 
 Two that a while ago were of us, Ann D. and Susan, are 
 gone before ; and as sure as" they are gone, we are also 
 going, in the time and order appointed. 
 
 " Our dear love and blessing are to all and each. 
 Farewell. 
 
 " Your loving father, 
 
 " P. H." 
 
 "It does not appear that he had any particular pre- 
 sages of his death ; but there were many instances of his 
 expectation of it, somewhat more than ordinary, for 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENFvY. 
 
 283 
 
 some time before. The last visit he made to his children 
 in Chester, was in July, 1695, almost a year before he 
 died, when he spent a Lord's day tliere, and preached on 
 the last verse of the Epistle to Philemon ; — ' The grace 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.' 
 
 " The gi-ace of Christ in the spirit, he remarked, en- 
 lightens and enlivens the spirit, softens and subdues the 
 spirit, purifies and preserves the spirit, greatens and guides 
 the spirit, sweetens and strengthens the spirit; and there- 
 fore, what can be more desirable 1 A spirit without the 
 gi-ace of Christ, is a field without a fence, a fool without 
 understanding ; it is a horse without a bridle, and a 
 house without furniture ; it is a ship without tackle, 
 and a soldier without armour ; it is a cloud without rain, 
 and a carcass without a soul ; it is a tree without fruit, 
 and a traveller without a guide. How earnest, there- 
 fore, should we be in praying to God for grace both for 
 ourselves and for our relations. 
 
 It was in April, 1696, a few weeks before his death, 
 that his son's father-in-law, Robert Warburton, Esq. of 
 HefFerston Grange in Cheshire, w^as gathered to his grave 
 in peace, in a good old age. Upon the tidings of his 
 death, Hr. Henry wrote thus to his son : — Your fathers, 
 where are theyl Your father-in-law gone, and your 
 own father going; but you have a God-Father that 
 lives for ever. He was wont, sometimes, to subscribe 
 his letters, — Your ever -loving, but not ever- living, 
 father." 
 
 It was about a month before he died, that, in a letter to 
 the very dear friend already frequently alluded to, Mr. 
 Tallents, of Shrewsbury, he thus wrote : — " Methinks it is 
 
284 
 
 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 strange, that it should be your lot and mine to abide so 
 long on earth by the stuff, when so many of our friends 
 are dividing the spoil above, but God will have it so ; and 
 to be willing to live in obedience to his holy will, is as 
 true an act of grace, as to be willing to die when he calls, 
 especially when life is labour and sorrow. But when it 
 is labour and joy, sei-vice to his name, and some measure 
 of success and comfort in serving him ; when it is to stop 
 a gap, and stem a tide, it is to be rejoiced in ; it is heaven 
 upon earth ; nay, one would think, by the psalmist's oft- 
 repeated plea, that it were better than to be in heaven 
 itself. And can that be ? 
 
 " He was observed frequently in pi-ayer, to beg of 
 God, that he would make us ready for that which 
 would come certainly, and might come suddenly. One 
 asking him how he did, he answered, — I find the chips 
 fly off apace, the tree will be down shortly. 
 
 " The last time he administered the Lord's supper, a 
 fortnight before he died, he closed the administration 
 with that scripture, ' It doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be; ' not yet, but it will shortly. 
 
 "On the Sabbath, June 21, 1696, he went through 
 the work of the day with his usual vigour and liveliness. 
 He was then preaching over the first chapter of St. Peter's 
 Second Epistle, and was that day on the words, ' Add to 
 your faith virtue.' He took virtue for Christian coumge 
 and resolution in the exercise of faith ; and the last 
 thing he mentioned, in which Christians have need of 
 courage, is in dying ; for, as he often said, it is a serious 
 thing to die, and to die is a work by itself 
 
 '' He that would not die when he must, and he 
 
THE RBY. PHILIP HEKRT. 
 
 285 
 
 that would die when he must not, are both alike 
 cowards. 
 
 " That day he gave notice, both morning and afternoon, 
 with much affection and enlargement, of a public fast, 
 which was appointed by authority the Friday following, 
 June 26 ; pressing his hearers, as he used to do upon such 
 occasions, to come in a prepared frame to the solemn 
 services of the day. 
 
 "The Tuesday following, June 23, he rose at six 
 o'clock, according to his custom, after a better night's 
 sleep than usual, and in wonted health. Between seven 
 and eight o'clock he performed famUy-woi-ship, accord- 
 ing to the usual manner ; he expounded verj' largely 
 the former half of the 104th Psalm, and sung it ; but 
 he was somewhat shorter in prayer than he used to 
 be, being then, as it was thought, taken ill. ' Blessed 
 is that servant, whom his Lord, when he cometh, shall 
 find so doing.' Immediately after prayer he retired 
 to his chamber, not saj'ing anything of his illness, but 
 was soon after found upon his bed in great extremity 
 of pain ; it seemed to be a complicated fit of the stone 
 and colic together, in verj' great extremity. The means 
 that had been used to give him relief in his illness 
 were altogether ineffectual. He had not the least in- 
 termission or remission of pain, neither up nor in bed, but 
 was continually tossing about. He had said sometimes, 
 that God's Israel may find Jordan rough; but there 
 is no remedy, they must through it to Canaan ; and 
 he would tell of a good man who used to say, — he was 
 not so much afraid of death as of dying. We know 
 it is not of the godly people it is said, that there are no 
 
286 LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 bands in their death, and yet it is of the godly alone 
 it can be said that their end is peace, their death gain, 
 and they have hope in it. 
 
 " When the exquisiteness of his pain forced groans and 
 complaints from him, he would presently correct himself 
 with a patient and quiet submission to the hand of his 
 heavenly Father, and a cheerful acquiescence in his 
 will. I am ashamed, said he, of these groans. I 
 want virtue. 0 for virtue now when I have need of it, 
 referring to the subject of his sermon the Lord's day be- 
 fore. Forgive me that I groan thus, and I will en- 
 deavour to be silent. But, indeed, my stroke is 
 heavier than my groaning. It is true what Mr. Baxter 
 said in his pain, there is no disputing against sense. It 
 was his trouble, as it was Mr. Baxter's, that by reason 
 •of his bodily pain he could not express his inward com- 
 fort ; however, it was that with which God graciously 
 strengthened him in his soul. He said to those about 
 him, they must remember what instructions and coun- 
 sels he had given them when he was in health, for now 
 he could say but little to them ; he could only refer 
 them to what he had said, as that which he would live 
 and die by 
 
 " It was two or three hours after he'was taken ill 
 before he w^ould suffer a messenger to be sent to Chester 
 for his son, and for the doctor, saying, — He should either 
 be better, or dead before they could come ; but at last he 
 said, as tlie prophet did to his importunate friends, — Send. 
 About eight o'clock that evening they came, and found 
 him in the same extremity of pain under which he had 
 suffered all day; and nature being already spent 
 
THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 287 
 
 ^ with his constant and indefatigable labours in the 
 work of the Lord, now sunk under its burthen, and 
 was quite disabled from grappling with so many 
 hours' incessant pain. What further means were then 
 used proved fruitless. He apprehended himself to be 
 going apace, and said to his son when he came in, — Oh 
 son, you are welcome to a dying father. I am now ready 
 to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 
 His pain continued very acute, but he had peace within. 
 To some of his neighbours who came in to see him, 
 for those at a distance had not notice of his illness, he 
 said, — Oh, make sure work for your souls, by getting an 
 interest in Christ while you are in health, for if I had 
 that work to do now what would become of me ? 
 But I bless God I am satisfied. It was a caution 
 he was often wont to give, — See to it, that your work 
 be not undone when your time is done, lest you be un- 
 done for ever. 
 
 " Towards ten or eleven o'clock that night, his pulse and 
 dight began to fail ; of the latter he himself took notice, 
 and inferred from it the near approach of his dissolution. 
 He took an affectionate farewell of his dear yoke-fellow, 
 with a thousand thanks for all her love, and care, and 
 tenderness ; and left a blessing for all his children, and 
 their dear partners and little ones, that were absent. 
 He said to his son, who sat at his head, — -Son, the Lord 
 bless you, and grant that you may do worthily in your 
 generation, and be more serviceable to the church of God 
 than I have been ; such was his great humility to the 
 last. When his son replied. Oh, Sir, pray for me that I 
 may but tread in your steps ; he answered, — Yea, fallow 
 
288 LIFE AND TIMES OF THE REV. PHILIP HENRY. 
 
 peace and holiness, and let them say what they will, — 
 More he would have said, to bear his dying testimony to 
 the way in which he had walked, but nature was spent, 
 and he had not strength to express it. 
 
 " His imderstanding and speech continued almost to 
 the last breath, and in his dying agonies he was still 
 calling upon God, and committing himself to him. One 
 of the last words he said, when he found himself just 
 ready to depart, was, — 0 death, where is thy — ; with 
 that his speech faltered, and within a few minutes, after 
 about sixteen hours illness, he quietly breathed out his 
 soul into the embraces of his dear Redeemer, whom he 
 had trusted, and faithfully served in the work of the 
 ministry, about forty-three years. He departed between 
 twelve and one o'clock in the morning of June 24, 
 Midsummer-day, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. 
 Happy, thrice happy, he to whom such a sudden change 
 was no surprise, and who could triumph over death, as 
 an unstung, disarmed enemy, even when he made so 
 fierce an onset. He had often spoke of it as his desire, 
 that if it were the will of God, he might not outlive his 
 usefulness ; and it pleased God to grant hira his desire, 
 and give him a short passage from the pulpit to the 
 kingdom, from the height of his usefulness, to receive 
 the recompence of reward. So was it ordered by Hino 
 in whose hands our times are." 
 
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