*+$ £ <&> • .-# c£ i 1 0°^ V cv * n °- ; % ^ : v / <& v * ■< * " ' •% ^ Some queries concerning compulsion in Religion, ibid c. Concerning the dispensation of the Gospel ibid d. Some experiences, &c. - - 266 e. Concerning the times and seasons, &c. * 2^7 ADVERTISEMENT, In the second part of the Review, may be found some observations on the following important subjects; inmost of which the sense of our author on them is plainly apparent. Atonement - Pag? 264 Love - - Page 199 Christ - - 245 Perfection - 246 248 Co-essence - 238 ibid Peter's 2d Ep. i. 19. 224 Imputation - - 242 Reading the Scriptures 253 Infallibility - - 266 Scripture - - 244 John's 1 st Epistle, v. 7 262 The Seed - - 258 Joy - - - 228 Silent worship - 251 The Lord's Prayer - 239 Trinity - -263 MEMOIRS, &c CHAP. L tits birth — education — station of his father — some hints at his political sentiments, and his modera- tion, taken from his early writings — his mar-* riage — the^reproof given to him and his wife, for their gaiety, by a friend — further discourse with this person — interview with T, Curtis and W. Simpson-'—by xvhich Mary Penington is con- vinced — Isaac at J. Crook's in Bedfordshire, there fidly convinced by George Fox — his ac- count of his spiritual travail, taken from his treatise c Concerning God's teachings, and Christ's c law'— further account from T.Ellwood's Testi- mony—further account from Works, Vol. %. p. 49— further account from his Address to the Rulers, Teachers, and People of New England^ Works, Vol. 1. p. cclvi. i SAAC PENINGTON was born about the year 1616, heir, to use the words of his son-in-law* William Penn, to a fair inheritance. It would * By marriage with Gulielma Maria Springett> daughter ®f Isaac Penington's wife by a former husband. A ( 2 ) be gratifying to trace the steps of the childhood of a man,, in whom the simplicity of the child so long survived the weakness ; but until further search can be made, it must suffice to learn from the same author, that his education was suitable to his quality among men, and that he had all the advantages that the schools and universities of his own country could bestow; as well as such as arose from the conversation of some of the most knowing and considerable men of the time. He anived at manhood at a period when England was agitated with the tempest of civil ccmmotion, by means of the discord between Charles I. and his parliament ; and as the father of Peningtbn was himself a violent partisan, the son, had his temper inclined him to enter the lists, might probably soon have arisen to eminence in the republic. But he seems early to have set his mind on another contest than the one for worldly power; and c to have chosen a life dedicated to an r inquiry after God, and a holy fellowship with £ his despised' people. He chose, he sought, he strove, and he obtained ; but had his choice been to follow the path into which his father had entered, disappointment would most likely have been the ultimate consequence. The elder Penington had been chief magistrate of the me- tropolis, he had raised the forces of the city to join the parliament's army, he had been intrusted with the charge of the Tower, and had been one of the council of state ; but the Restoration re- versed the condition of public affairs, and he died ( 3 ) a prisoner in the fortress, which he had formerly commanded. But though Isaac Penington forbore to enter into the contests which rent the nation, he was far from being an unconcerned spectator of the misery of his country. To this some of the tracts which he published long before he joined the Society of Friends, bear ample testimony. But he looked for the cause of the evil rather in the depraved state of man's heart in general, than in any particular party or set of men. In the pre- face to one tract, published in 1650, entitled, according to the fashion of titles in those days, e A Voice out of the thick Darkness/ he men- tions an intention he had before conceived of publishing something concerning the state of affairs. f I should have expressed/ says he, ' ill will to none, but only have uttered that c deep affection that was then in me, towards the c soldering and healing the distempers of such ' spirits as are made more miserable by their e own discontents, than they could be by any c thing else that can, in probability, befall f them' — c There are one sort of men whom I * should more especially have applied myself * unto; who are wonderous eager after making 6 the nation happy; w T hose spirits can be no ' ways satisfied till they see the attainment of * that universal freedom, and the flowing forth e of that universal, speedy justice, w T hich is easy c to be desired, but hard to be met with/ To persons of this description, he gives the follow- A 2 < * ) Ing advice. { Be content to pass through your * pilgrimage without the full enjoyment of that ' freedom ye have desired,, and pressed so hard r after. There is a power above, whose will may s cross yours in this ; which may as well find s fault with your untowardness to be governed, f as with the self-seeking of such as have been 6 governors/ — c It is a brave thing sometimes e to oppose the yoke; but a braver, from judg* ( ment to submit unto it. It is, in many cases c better for particular persons, yea for societies, r to bear, than avoid the yoke/ — ( It is the stiff- c ness of the neck, and unbrokenness of the spirit e that chiefly makes all our yokes so harsh/ But he subjoins, ( Groan, pant after, and in a just ( w T ay pursue, the attainment of perfect freedom. { Lie not down as a slave, with a base, abject ' spirit, counting slavery best ; but with a sweet 6 spirit submit to it for necessity's sake ; and let e a sense appear of your prizing and desiring of r liberty. And what way of attaining it is made *" out to you plainly and evidently justifiable, < forbear not to fall in with; yet not in such p. e violent and irrational manner, as to make your ( more noble parts far worse slaves to brutish f passions within, to avoid a more inferior slavery c of the outward and more ignoble part/ It is probable that notwithstanding the mild- ness and moderation of his temper, and his great preference of peace to contention, Penington in his judgment inclined to a commonwealth. For in the following year he published a pamphlet ( 5 ) entitled,, c The fundamental right, safety, and li~ c berty, of the people (which is radically in ' themselves, derivatively in the parliament, their ■ substitutes or representatives) asserted/ f This c right/ saith he, ' lieth chiefly in these three ' things — in the people's choice of their govern- ' ment and oovernors — in the establishment of e that government and governors whom they c shall choose— and in the alteration of either as ' they shall find cause/ These principles are de- mocratical, and accordingly the Salus populij su^ prema lex, is the prominent feature of the book. But it is at most a representative, not a pure, democracy at which the author aims. He shows the impossibility of the people acting for them- selves; and the impropriety of a parliament as- suming both legislative and administrative power. He seems even not averse to the latter being placed in the hands of a king. ' Though* these are his words, f I shall not plead for the re- ' settlement of kingly government (for I am ' not so far engaged in my affections to it, as it ' yet hath been) yet I would have a fair and ? friendly shaking hands with it, and not any ' ' blame laid upon it beyond its desert. For c doubtless it is both proper, good, and useful f in its kind; and hath its advantages above any ( other government on the one hand, as it hath f also its disadvantages on the other hand/ In short, though the desire of Penington seems to h^ve been the general welfare of £hc people , j ( « ) he only expected it (so far as civil policy can effect it); from the preservation of every ranl^ in the state within its own limits. c Kingly e power/ thus he writes in his prefatory address to the parliament^ c did pass its limits,, we may e now speak it/ The times of Charles I. the late stretches of prerogative by that monarch, and the attempts at power independent of the parlia- ment^ were of course fresh in his memory : but Penington immediately subjoins,. c Doth parlia- € mentary power keep within its limits ? — ( And c if things should yet devolve lower, into the c great and confused body of the people, is it c likely they would keep their limits ?' — c Man c cannot be free in himself, nor free from himself, c (while self is in him it will make him selfish) f and while it is so, others under his power or * within his reach cannot be free/ Another short extract from the body of the work may close the description of the political part of the character of Isaac Penington, and show that universal benevolence formed its basis* c There is not one sort of men upon the face of the 5 earth, to whom I bear any enmity in my spirit ' (though in some respect I must confess my- ' self an enemy to every sort of men); but wish, c with all my heart, they might all attain and c enjoy as much peace, prosperity, and happiness f as their state will bear. There are not any to c whom I should envy government ; but, who- * ever they are, they should have my vote on ( 7 ) ' their behalf, whom I saw fitted for it and called ' to it/* At the time of these publications Penington was more than thirty years of age : they are not, therefore, to be considered as the mere effusions of an ingenuous youthful mind; but as the result of observation and judgment, operating on a mind amply endued with philanthropy and piety. Nor can his attachment, at a much later period, to the principles of Friends, be ascribed of course to the ardency of a youthful imagination, for he had then arrived at least at his fortieth year ; an age at which the manly character is, if ever, fully developed ; and he appears, besides, by his writings, to have been a man of unusual calmness * The following extract of a letter written many years after may further show how little of a politician, as the word is commonly used, was Penington. See Kendall's MS. Coll. Vol. 1. p. 334. i Now as to his relation of the affairs of the late times, I was observed by all sorts to be one of a retired spirit and conversation, not meddling with affairs, covenants, or engagements ; nor taking any advantage of preferment, gain, or honour, in those times, when thrust upon me ; but mourned with those that suffered in those times ; not expecting much happiness from outward changes ; nor satisfied with any of the changes that thep were. I would I could yet see the change which I have, all along, longed to see, which was not of the outward form of government, but from unrighteousness to right- eousness. This is the plain truth of my heart in these things, and I could wish from my heart that the Lord- God of heaven and earth had taught thee to fear and lova God and the king, as he hath done me, in truth and right- eousness, y A 4 ( 8 ) of mind. He had married/ in what year I do not find*, Mary, the widow of Colonel Springett ; and at the time of his adopting the profession of Friends lived on his estate at Chalfont, called St. Peter's, in Buckinghamshire. The ground of their union was a coincidence in religious sentiments. Each had long been dissatisfied with many of the forms in use, even in those times of supposed re- formation ; each was earnestly seeking after a re- ligion that could bring assurance with it; and each was in no small degree already acquainted with spiritual exercises, and devotions. One day, as they were walking together in a park, a man who had lately attached himself to the people called Quakers, rode by ; and remarking their gay ap- parel, reproved them aloud for their pride. Mary Penington replied with disdain, c You are c a public preacher indeed, thus to preach on the e high-way/ The stranger, who, having said what appeared so far sufficient for him, was pro- bably riding on, now turned back; for he said that he again felt a. love for Isaac Penington, as he saw grace in his very countenance. He there- fore drew' up close to the pales, and spoke to them of the light and grace of God, which had appeared to all men. Isaac Penington engaged him in discourse, and the occupier of the pre- mises invited him in ; but as he perceived Penington to be superior to him in argument, by means of his natural and acquired abilities, * Probably not later than 1654, aetat. 38. ( 9 ) and as he knew himself to be but young in religious experience, he declined the debate ; but said that he would the next day bring with him a man, who should answer all the questions and objections of his learned disputant. The person thus intended to be produced was George Fox ; but the zealous stranger was disappointed of his assistance ; and our pious couple were vi- sited by two other friends, namely Thomas Curtis of Reading, and William Simpson from Lanca- shire. I do not find any particulars of their conversation so far as it related to Isaac. Mary has left an account of the effect of the visit on her mind, as tending to her fully giving up her heart to the doctrines and practices of Friends. It is also not to be doubted that Isaac received in this conference some inducements to make trial of their doctrines; but he was not hasty to adopt their manners; and indeed those of the persons who had declared to him these doctrines^ appeared very mean and contemptible. It is not easy to fix with precision the date of the convincement^of Isaac Penington. Alex- ander Parker, an eminent friend, in his testi- mony prefixed to Penington's works, says that he first saw him at a meeting at Reading in the year 1656 (probably attracted thither by ac- quaintance with Thomas Curtis); and that though Penington did not then bear the garb and. ap- pearance of a friend, his soul cleaved to him in the bowels of the love of truth. William Penn, in a similar testimony, but in his own peculiar (10 ) style, says, f About the year 1657 it pleased the e Lord to send him a Peter, to declare to him e that the time of the pouring forth of the Holy 1 Spirit, and breaking forth of the heavenly e work of God, in the souls of men and women, e was come; and many Aquilas and Priscillas e came after, who instructed him in the way of e God more perfectly/ It seems, however, to have been at a meeting held at the house of John Crook, who had been in the commission of the peace, in Bedfordshire, and by means of the preaching of George Fox, that Isaac Pening- ton became fully satisfied. Of this meeting, which was held about the time called Whitsun- tide, 1658, and of the doctrine preached in it^ there is a large account in the Journal, or rather Annals, of George Fox. — f At this meeting/ says Alexander Parker before mentioned, c the mys- c tery of iniquity was so opened, and the mys- e tery of the gospel of peace so plainly mani- ' fested, that he (Penington) was fully satisfied; f and from that time gave up himself to the e obedience of Truth — took up the cross — and 1 suffered with us for the name and testimony c of Jesus/ These dates bespeak him to have been from forty to forty- two years of age when he joined the rising and persecuted society of Friends. The steps which led to this event, and the peaceful establishment of the mind of Isaac Penington in the adoption of this despised pro- fession, let his own words declare. ( U ) c I was acquainted/ says he, c with a spring of i life from my childhood, which enlightened me € in my tender years, and pointed my heart to- ' wards the Lord, begetting true sense in me, f and faith, and hope, and love, and humility, c and meekness, &c. so that indeed I was a won- e der to some that knew me, because of the f savour and life of religion which dwelt in my f heart, and appeared in my conversation. But ' I never durst trust the spring of my life, and c the springings up of life therefrom ; but in ' reading the scriptures, gathered what know- ' ledge I could therefrom, and set this over the ? spring and springings of life in me ; and indeed ' judged that I ought so to do. Notwithstand- c ing which, the Lord was very tender and mer- ' ciful to me, helping me to pray, and helping c me to understand the scriptures, and opening c and warming my heart every day. And truly, c my soul was very near the Lord, and my heart * was made and preserved very low and humble * before him, and very sensible of his rich love c and mercy to me in the Lord Jesus Christ : as f I did daily from my heart cry grace, grace, f unto him, in every thing my soul received and < partook of from him/ ( Indeed I did not look to have been so broken, ff shattered, and distressed, as I afterwards was, < and could by no means understand the mean- * ing thereof, my heart truly and earnestly de- * siring after the Lord, and not having the sense r - of any guilt upon me,' — ( At that time, when ( 12 ) f I was broken and dashed to pieces in my re- f ligion, I was in a congregational way ; but ' soon after parted with them, yet in great love, ■' relating to them how the hand of the Lord c was upon me, and how I was smitten in the ' inward part of my religion, and could not now c hold up an outward form of that which I in- * wardly wanted : having lost my God; my e Christ, my faith, my knowledge, my life, my f all. And so we parted very lovingly, I wish- * ing them well, even the presence of that God c whom I wanted, promising to return to them c again, if ever I met with that which my soul ' wanted, and had clearness in the Lord so to ' do/ f After I was parted from them, I never joined ' to any way or people; but lay mourning day s and night, pleading with the Lord, why he had € forsaken me, and why I should be made so c miserable through my love to him, and sin- * cere desires after him. For truly, I can say, e I had not been capable of so much misery as e my soul lay in for many years, had not my ! love been so deep and true towards the Lord ' my God, and my desires so great after the ' sensible enjoyment of his Spirit, according to ( the promise and way of the gospel. Yet this ' I can also say in uprightness of heart, It was ' not gifts I desired, to appear and shine before e men in; but grace and holiness, and the Spirit f of the Lord dwelling in me, to act my heart by t his grace, and to preserve me in holiness/ ( 13 ) ' Now indeed the Lord at length had compas- 9 sion on me, and visited me ; though in a time 9 and way wherein I expected him not ; nor 9 was I willing (as to the natural part) to have 9 that the way, which God showed me to be the ' way ; but the Lord opened mine eye, and that ' which I know to be of him in me closed with 9 it, and owned it; and the pure seed was raised ' by his power, and my heart taught to know and 9 own the seed, and to bow and worship before the * Lord in the pure power, which was then in my ' heart. So that of a truth I sensibly knew and 9 felt my Saviour, and was taught by him to take * up the cross, and to deny that understanding, 9 knowledge, and wisdom, which had so long ' stood in my way :-and then I learned that lesson ' (being really taught it of the Lord), what it is 9 indeed to become a fool for Christ's sake. J 9 cannot say but I had learned somewhat of it ' formerly; but I never knew how to keep to ' what I had learned till that day.'* In this extract there is not any express decla- ration that the way which was at length cast up before the view of Isaac Penington, and in which he was enabled steadily to proceed through life, was the way pursued by Friends. The following is more explicit on that head. It is entitled c A ' true and faithful relation, in brief, concerning e myself, in reference to my spiritual travails. ' and the Lord's dealings with me. I say true s and faithful, because it is of. the Truth, and not * Penington's Works, 2d Edit, Vol, II, p. 51 I, 512- f 14 ) ' given forth in my own will, but in the Lord's ' will and requirings of me at this time, for his £ service/ There Willi doubtless, be found in it some of the same kind of matter as forms a part of the extract already cited. To the spiritual traveller, however, this similarity will not be in- sipid, and it is possible that even critical readers may allow that the following piece is not un- aptly selected, to fill up the more general out- line of the preceding one. f I have been/ says our amiable author, ' x c man of sorrow and affliction from my child- e hood, feeling the want of the Lord, and mourn - e irig after him ; separated by him from the love, ' nature, and spirit of this world; and turned in e spirit towards him, almost ever since I could c remember/ The Christian reader, probably, will not re- volt at this exordium, or call it a gloomy por- trait. He will call to mind the prophetic decla- ration concerning the Redeemer, . ec He is a " man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;" and will by no means forget his Master's own consolatory sentence, i( Blessed are they that £( mourn; for they shall be comforted." c In the sense of my lost estate/ thus Pening- ton proceeds, c I sought after the Lord ; I read c the scriptures ; I watched over mine own heart; € I cried unto the Lord for what I felt the want c of ; I blessed his name in what he mercifully e did for me, and bestowed on me. Whatever t I read in the scriptures, as the way of God to ( 15 ) * my understanding, I gave myself to the faith- ' fill practice of: being contented to meet with 1 all the reproach, opposition, and several kinds ' of sufferings, which it pleased the Lord to mea- ' sure out to me therein. And I cannot but say c that the Lord was good unto me, did visit me, did * teach me, did help me, did testify his accept- ' ance of me many times, to the refreshing and * joy of my heart before him/ ' But my soul was not satisfied with what I c met with, nor indeed could be, there being ' further quickenings and pressings in my spirit, * after a more full, certain, and satisfactory know- c ledge; even after the sense, sight, and enjov- e ment of God, as was testified in the scriptures c to have been felt and enjoyed in the former e times : for I saw plainly that there was a stop ' of the streams, and a great falling short of the f power, life, and glory, which they partook of. ' We had not so the Spirit, nor were so in the ( faith, nor did so walk and live in God, as they ' did. They were come to Mount Sion, and the s " heavenly Jerusalem, &c. which we had hardly ( so much as the literal knowledge or apprehen- c sion what they were. So that I saw the whole e course of religion among us was, for the most ' part, but a talk, to what they felt, enjoyed.. f possessed, and lived in/ e This sense made me sick at heart indeed, ' and set me upon deep crying to God, close e searching the scriptures, and waiting on Godj * that I might receive the pure sense and under- ( 16 ) ' standing of them, from and in the light, and bv ' the help of his Spirit. And what the Lord did * bestow on me in that state, with thankfulness * I remember before him at this very day : for f he was then my God, and a pitier and watcher s over me; though he had not then pleased to 4 direct me how to stay my mind upon him. * And then I was led (indeed I was led, I did not f run of myself) into a way of separation from e the worship of the world, into a gathered so- e ciety : for this both the scripture, and the Spirit r of God in me gave testimony unto ; and what < we then met with, and what leadings and help * we then felt, there is a remembrance and testi- * mony in my heart to this day. But there * was somewhat wanting, and we mistook our * way, for whereas we should have pressed for- * ward into the spirit and power, we ran too 6 much outward into the letter and form : and e though the Lord in many things helped us, e yet therein he was against us, and brought ' darkness, confusion, and scattering upon us. ' I was sorely broken and darkened, and in this ' darkened state sometimes lay still for a long r season, secretly mourning, and crying out t& ' the Lord, night and day. Sometimes I ran about, e hearkening after what might appear or break ' forth in others ; but never met with any thing e whereto there was the least answer in my heart, * save in one people, who had a touch of Truth; f but I never expressed so much to any of them, ( nor indeed felt thorn at all able to reach my ( 17 ) € condition. At last, after all my distresses, ' wanderings, and sore travails, I met with some c writings of this people called Quakers, which c I cast a slight eye upon and disdained, as fal- ( ling very short of that wisdom, light, life, and c power which I had been longing for, and * searching after, I had likewise, some pretty ' distance of time after this, opportunity of c meeting with some of them; and divers of ' them were by the Lord moved (I know it to e be so since) to come to me. As I remember, c at the very first, they reached to the life of God c in me; which life answered their voice, and c caused a great love in me to spring to them; ' but still in my reasonings with them, and dis- ' putes alone (in my mind) concerning them, c I was very far off from owning them as so s knowing the Lord, or so appearing in his life s and power, as my condition needed, and as my ( soul waited for. Yea, the more I conversed c with them, the more I seemed in my under^ c standing and reason to get over them, and to f trample them under my feet, as a poor, weak, * silly, contemptible generation, who had some * smatterings of Truth in them, and some honest ' desires towards God ; but very far off from the ' clear and full understanding of his way and ' will. And this was the effect almost of every * discourse with them : they still reached my * heart, and I felt them in the secrets of my c soul ; which caused the love in me always to c continue, yea, sometimes to increase towards B ( 18 ) ( them ; but daily my understanding got more : and more o\ T er them, and therein I daily more ' and more despised them. After a long time ' I was invited to hear one of them (as I had ' been often, they in tender love pitying me, 4 and feeling my want of that which they pos- f sessed) ; and there was an answer in my heart, 4 and I went with fear and trembling, with de- c sires to the Most High who was over all and * knew all, that I might not receive any thing * for truth which was not of him, nor withstand 4 any thing which was of him ; but might bow 4 before the appearance of the Lord my God, £ and none other. And indeed, when I came, ' I felt the presence and power of the Most High s among them, anil words of truth from the ! Spirit of truth reaching to my heart and con- * science, opening my state as in the presence 4 of the Lord. Yea, I did not only feel words * and demonstrations from without; but I felt 9 the dead quickened, the Seed raised ; inso- * much that my heart (in the certainty of light. ' and clearness of true sense) said, This is he, s this is he, there is no other : this is he whom I 1 have waited for and sought after from my child- ' hood; who was always near me, mid had often * begotten life in my heart ; hut I knew him not r distinctly, nor how to receive him or dwell with * him. And then, in this sense (in the melting" e and breakings of my spirit) was I given up to € the Lord, to become his, both in waiting for * the further reveabng of his Seed in me, and ( 19 ) ' to serve him in the life and power of his 9 Seed/ ' Now what I met with after this, in my tra- c vails,, in my waitings, in my spiritual exer- 9 rises, is not to be uttered ; only in general 9 I may say this, I met with the very strength 9 of hell. The cruel oppressor roared up^n * me, and made me feel the bitterness of his ** captivity, while he had any power: yea, the ' Lord was far from my help, and from the voice 9 of my roaring. I also met with deep subtil- 9 ties and devices to entangle me in that wis- s dom, which seemeth able to make wise in the ' things of God ; but indeed is foolishness, and 9 a snare to the soul, bringing it back into cap- ' tivity, where the enemy's gins prevail. And 9 what I met with outwardly from my own dear 9 father, from my kindred, from my servants, 9 from the people and powers of the world, for e no other cause but fearing my God, worship- ' ping him as he hath required of me, and bow- ' ing to his Seed, which is his Son, who is to be 9 worshipped by men and angels for evermore, 9 the Lord my God knoweth, before whom my e heart and ways are ; who preserved me in love * to them, in the midst of all I suffered from '•them, and doth still so preserve me; blessed * be his pure and holy name. But some may 9 desire to know what I have at last met with. c I answer, / have met with the Seed. Under- ' stand that word, and thou wilt be satisfied, and 9 inquire no. further. I have met with my God; B 9 ( 20 ) ' I have met with my Saviour ; and he hath not ( been present with me without his salvation ; ' but I have felt the healings drop upon my c soul from under his wings. I have met with * the true knowledge, the knowledge of life., ' the living knowledge, the knowledge which is c life, and this hath had the true virtue in it, c which my soul hath rejoiced in, in the presence c of the Lord. I have met with the Seed's * Father, and in the Seed I have felt him my f Father. There I have read his nature, his love,, f his compassions, his tenderness, which have e melted, overcome, and changed my heart be- c fore him. I have met with the Seed's faith,, e which hath done and doth that, which the faith ( of man can never do. I have met with the e true birth, with the birth which is heir of the s kingdom, and inherits the kingdom. I have s met with the true spirit of prayer and suppli- c cation, wherein the Lord is prevailed with, and € which draws from him whatever the condition * needs: the soul always looking up to him in * the will, and in the time and way, which is ac- i cep table with him. What shall I say ? I have ' met with the true peace, the true righteous- s ness, the true holiness, the true rest of the r soul, the everlasting habitation, which the re- e deemed dwell in : and I know all these to be ' true, in him that is true; and am capable of f no doubt, dispute, or reasoning in my mind * about them ; it abiding there where it hath re- e ceived the full assurance and satisfaction. And ( 21 ). also I know very well and distinctly in spirit where the doubts and disputes are, and where the certainty and full assurance is ; and in the tender mercy of the Lord am preserved out of the one, and in the other.' c Now, the Lord knows, these things I do not utter in a boasting way: but would rather be speaking of my nothingness, my emptiness, my weakness, my manifold infirmities, which I feel more than ever. The Lord hath broken the man's part in me, and I am a worm and no man before him. «p I have no strength to do any good or service for him ; nay, I cannot : watch over or preserve myself. I feel daily ' that I keep not alive my own soul ; but am : weaker before men, yea weaker in my spirit, as r in myself, than ever I have been. But I cannot r but utter to the praise of my God, and I feel f his arm stretched out for me ; and my weak- ( ness, which I feel in myself, is not my loss, ( but advantage before him. And these things * I write, as having no end at all therein of my € own, but felt it this morning required of me ; ' and so in submission and subjection to my God * have I given up to do it, leaving the success ( and service of it with him/ 'Aylesbury, 15th .3d Mo. 1667.'* Though the two preceding papers will serve to show many of the toilsome steps, which were * In Ellwood's Test, prefixed to Penington's Woijks* Vol. I. p» xxxv, i$3 ( 22 ) trodden by Isaac Penington in pursuit of truth; yet the following will probably be an acceptable, and not an unsuitable addition. It is both de- scriptive and exhortatory ; it is, in its ten our, consistent with the others, yet not tautologous. One occasion of his sorrows, it more fully de- scribes: the tendency of one tenet on a depressed and ingenuous mind, it more particularly dis- plays. ' My heart from my childhood,' says he, e was r pointed towards the Lord, whom I feared, and f longed after, from my tender years; wherein c I felt, that I could not be satisfied with (nor c indeed seek after) the things of this perishing e world, which naturally pass away ; but I de- c sired true sense of, and unity with, that which c abideth for ever. There was somewhat indeed c then still within me (even the Seed of eter- ' nity) which leavened and balanced my spirit ' almost continually ; but I knew it not distinct- - ly, so as to turn to it, and give up to it, en-* f tirely and understandingly/ c In this temper of mind I earnestly sought e after the Lord, applying myself to hear ser- c mons, and read the best books I could meet * with, but especially the scriptures, which were f very sweet and savoury to me. Yea, I very e earnestly desired and pressed after the know- c ledge of the scriptures, but was much afraid f of receiving men's interpretations of them, or * of fastening any interpretation upon them my- i self; but waited much, and prayed much, that, ( 23 ) * from the Spirit of the Lord, I might receive ' the true understanding of them, and that he 4 would chiefly endue me with that knowledge, 6 which I might feel sanctifying and saving.' f And indeed I did sensibly receive of his love, * of his mercy, and of his grace, which I felt ' still freely to move towards me; and at seasons ' when I was most filled with the sense of my 4 own unworthiness, and had least expectations * of the manifestation of them. But I was ex- * ceedingly entangled about Election and Repro- r bation (having drunk in that doctrine, accord- 6 ing as it was then held forth by the strictest of c those that were termed Puritans ; and as then 4 seemed to be very manifest and positive, from f Rom ix. &c), fearing lest, notwithstanding all ' my desires and seekings after the Lord, he might ' in his decree have passed me by; and I felt ' it would be bitter to me to bear his wrath, * and be separated from his love for evermore : 9 yet, if he had so decreed, it would be, and I * should (notwithstanding these fair beginnings 4 and hopes) fall away, and perish at the last.' c In this great trouble and grief (which was * much added to by not finding the Spirit of ' God so In me and with me, as I had read and r believed the former Christians had it), and in 4 mourning over and grappling with secret cor- < ruptions and temptations, I spent many years, ( and fell into great weakness of body; and, s often casting myself upon my bed, did wrino- f my hands and weep bitterly; begging ear-. b 4 ( 24 ) * nestly of the Lord daily,, that I might be pitied e by him, and helped against my enemies, and f be made conformable to the image of his Son, r by his own renewing power/ c And indeed at last (when my nature was al- ' most spent, and the pit of despair was even c closing its mouth upon me), mercy sprang, e and deliverance came, and the Lord my God c owned me, and sealed his love unto me, and light e sprang within me : which made not only the * scriptures, but the very outward creatures glo- c rious in my eye; so that every thing was sweet * and pleasant, and lightsome round about me. 6 But I soon felt that this estate was too high c and glorious for me, and I was not able to e abide in it, it so overcame my natural spirits. ( Wherefore, blessing the name of the Lord for f his great goodness to me, I prayed unto him < to take that from me which I was not able to c bear; and to give me such a proportion of his ' light and presence, as was suitable to my pre- ' sent state, and might fit me for his 'service. e Whereupon this was presently removed from ' me ; yet a savour remained with me, wherein ' I had sweetness, and comfort, and refreshment ' for a long season/ e But my mind did not then know how to turn £ to, and dwell with that which gave me the ' savour; nor rightly to read what God did daily f write in my heart ; which sufficiently mani- ( fested itself to be of him, by its living virtue, e and pure operation upon me/ ( 25 ; I But I looked upon the scriptures to be nw rule, and so would weigh the inward appear- ances of God to me, by what w r as outwardly written-; and durst not receive any thing from God immediately, as it sprang from the foun tain, but only in that mediate way. Herein did I limit the Holy One of Israel, and exceed- ingly hurt my own soul, as I afterwards felt, and came to understand.' f Yet the Lord was tender to me, and conde- scended exceedingly, opening scriptures to me freshly every day,, teaching and instructing, warming and comforting my heart thereby, And truly he did help me to pray, and to be- lieve, and to love him and his appearances in any; yea, to love all the sons of men, and all his creatures, with a true love. But that in me which knew not the appearances of the Lord in my spirit, but would limit him to words of scriptures formerly written, — that proceeded yet further, and would be raising a fabrick of knowledge' out of the scriptures, and gathering a perfect rule (as I thought) concerning my heart, my words, my ways, my worship ; and according to what I thus drank in (after this manner from the scriptures), I practised; and with much seriousness of spirit, and prayer to God, fell a helping to build up an Inde- pendent congregation, wherein the savour of life and the presence of God was fresh with me: as I believe there are yet some alive of that congregation can testify.' ( 26 ) e This was my state,, when I was smitten, broken, and distressed by the Lord, confounded in my worship, confounded in my knowledge,, stripped of all in one day (which it is hard to Utter), and was matter of amazement to all that beheld me. I lay open and naked to all that would inquire of me, and strive to search out what might be the cause the Lord should deal so with me. They would at first be jea- lous that I had sinned and provoked him so to do ; but when they had scanned things tho- roughly, and I had opened my heart nakedly to them, I do not remember any one that ever retained that sense Concerning me. My soul remembereth the wormwood and gall, the ex- ceeding bitterness of that state, and is still humbled in me in the remembrance of it before the Lord. Oh! how did I wish, with Job, that I might come before him, and bowingly plead with him ; for indeed I had no sense of any guilt upon me, but was sick of love towards him, and as one violently rent from the bosom of his beloved ! Oh, how gladly would I have met with death ! For I was wearv all the dav lono\ and afraid of the night ; and weary also of the night-season, and afraid of the ensuing day.' c I remember my grievous and bitter mourn- ings to the Lord. How often did I say, Lord why hast thou forsaken me? Why hast thou broken me to pieces ? 1 had no delight hut thee, no desire after any hut thee. My heart was bent wholly to serve thee, and thou hast even fitted mt ( 27 ) ( as appeared to my sense ) by many deep exercises and experiences for thy service. Why dost thou make me thus miserable? Sometimes I would cast mine eye upon a scripture, and my heart would even melt within me. At other times I would desire to pray to my God as I had for- merly done; but I found I knew him not, and I could not tell how to pray, or in any wise to come near him, as I had formerly done. In this condition I wandered up and down from moun- tain to hill, from one sort to another, with a cry in my spirit, Can ye tell news of my beloved? Where dolh he dwell? Where doth he appear? But their voices were still strange to me; and I should retire sad and oppressed, and bowed down in spirit, from them/ ' Now surely, all serious, sober, sensible people will be ready to inquire how I came satisfying- ly to know the Lord at length ; or whether I do yet certainly know him, and am yet truly satisfied/ c Yes indeed, I am satisfied at my very heart* Truly my heart is united to him whom I longed after, in an everlasting covenant of pure life and peace/ c Well then, how came this about? will some say. Why, thus. The Lord opened, my spirit. The Lord gave me the certain and sensible feeling of the pure Seed, which had been with me from the beginning. The Lord caused his holy power to fall upon me, and gave me such an inward demonstration and feeling of the Seed ( 28 ) % of life, that I cried out in my spirit, This is he, e this is he, there is not another, there never was ano- < ther. He was always near me, though I knew him { not (not so sensibly, not so distinctly, as now he * was revealed in me, and to me by the Father). c O that I might now he joined to him, and he alone \ might live in me ! And so, in the willingness ' which God had wrought in me (in this day of his ' power to my soul ) 3 I gave up to be instructed, ' exercised, and led by him, in the waiting for ' and feeling of his holy Seed, that all mignt be ' wrought out of me which could not live with ' the Seed, but would be hindering the dwel- • ling and reigning of the Seed in me, while it e remained and had power. And so I have gone c through a sore travail, and fight of afflictions c and temptations of many kinds; wherein the 6 Lord hath been merciful to me, in helping me, c and preserving the spark of life in rne, in the *' midst of many things which had befallen me, c whose nature tended to quench and extinguish ' it.' c Now thus having met with the true way, and ' walked with the Lord therein, wherein daily ( certainty, yea, and full assurance of faith and c of understanding is at length obtained, I cannot ( be silent ( true love and pure life stirring in ' me and moving me), but am necessitated to ' testify of it to others ■ and this is it, — To retire c inwardl v, and wait to feel somewhat of the c Lord, somewhat of his holy Spirit and power, c discovering, and drawing from that which is ( 29 ) I contrary to him, and into his holy nature and f heavenly image. And then, as the mind is r joined to this, somewhat is received, some true ( life, some true light, some true discerning ; * which the creature not exceeding (but abiding f in the measure of) is safe. But it is easy err- ? ing from this, but hard abiding with it, and r not going before its leadings. But he that * feels life, and begins in life, doth he not begin c safely ? And he that waits and fears, and goes \ on no further than his captain goes before him, ' doth he not proceed safely ? Yea, very safely, * even till he cometh to be so settled and esta- ' blished in the virtue, demonstration, and power c of Truth, as nothing can prevail to shake him.* ' Now, blessed be the Lord, there are many at ' this day who can truly and faithfully witness, ' that they have been brought by the Lord to ' this state. And thus have we learned of the * Lord; to wit, not by the high, striving, aspiring f mind; but by lying- low, and being contented * with a little. If but a crumb of bread (yet if ' bread), if but a drop of water (yet if water), ' we have been contented with it, and also thank- '■ ful to the Lord for it : nor by thoughtfulness, ' and wise searching and deep considering with ( our own wisdom and reason have we obtained c it ; but in the still, meek 3 and humble wait- f ins:, have we found that brought into the f death, which is not to know the mysteries of f God's kingdom ; and that which is to live, f made alive, and increase in life,* ( 30 ) ' Therefore he that would truly know the f Lord, let him take heed of his own reason and c understanding. I tried this way very far,, for * I considered most seriously and uprightly. I ** prayed, I read the scriptures, I earnestly de- s sired to understand and find out whether that < which this people, called Quakers, testified of, c was the only way and truth of God (as they e seemed to me but to pretend); but for all this, ( prejudices multiplied upon me, and strong rea- ' sonings against them, which appeared to me ' as unanswerable. But when the Lord revealed e his Seed in me, and touched my heart there*- s with, which administered true life and virtue 6 to me, I presently felt them there the children ' of the Most High, and so grown up in his life, g power, and holy dominion (as the inward eye., e being opened by the Lord, sees), as drew forth * from me great reverence of heart, and praises 1 to the Lord, who had so appeared among men * in these latter days/ ' And as God draweth, in any respect, oh! f give up in faithfulness to him. Despise the c shame, take up the cross : for indeed it is a ** way which is very cross to man, and which his c wisdom will exceedingly be ashamed of; but f that must be denied and turned from, and the f secret, sensible drawings of God's Spirit waited ' for and given up to. Mind, people, He that c will come into the new covenant, must come * into the obedience of it. The light of life, € which God hath hid in the heart, is the cove- ( 31 ) € nant ; and from this covenant God doth not * give knowledge,, to satisfy the vast, aspiring, c comprehending wisdom of man ; but living c knowledge, to feed that which is quickened by s him ; which knowledge is given in the obedi- f ence, and is very sweet and precious to the ( state of him that knows how to feed upon it. r Yea, truly, this is of a very excellent, pure, s precious nature ; and a little of it weighs down e that great, vast knowledge in the comprehend- ' ing part, which the man's spirit and nature so ' much prizeth, and, presseth after/ ' And truly, friends, I witness at this day a ' great difference between the sweetness of com- ' prehending the knowledge of things, as ex- s pressed in the scriptures ( this I fed much on ' formerly); and tasting the hidden life, the hid- c den manna in the heart (which is my food ' now, blessed for ever be the Lord my God * and Saviour). Oh ! that others had a true, * certain and sensible taste of the life, virtue, ' and goodness of the Lord, as it is revealed ' there ! Surely it could not but kindle the true c hunger; and inflame the true thirst; which c can never be satisfied but by the true bread, c and by water from the living fountain. This ( the Lord (in the tenderness of his love, and in ' the riches of his grace and mercy ) hath brought * us to ; and this we earnestly and uprightly de- * sire and endeavour, that others may be brought c to also; that they may rightly (in the true e silence of the flesh, and in the pure stillness of ( 32 ) > spirit) wait for, and in the Lord's due time f receive, that which answers the desire of the * awakened mind and soul, and satisfies it with c the true, precious substance for evermore. * Amen.'* More to the import of the three preceding pieces may be seen in the preface to Isaac Fenin gton's tract entitled c Babylon the Great f described/ published 1659, and in another tract the following year respecting the New England persecution, both of which are reprinted in his works. It may not be advisable to insert them here at length ; yet an extract from the latter will sum up the evidence already produced, and show him in an amiable view. c At first acquaintance with this rejected peo- ' pie, that which was eternal of God in me open- { ed, and I did immediately in my spirit own ' them as children of my Father, truly begotten s of his life by his own Spirit. But the wise, 4 " reasoning part presently rose up, contending * against their uncouth way of appearance ; and ' in that I did disown them, and continued a < stranger to them, and a reasoner against them, ' for. above twelve months; and by weighing c and considering things in that part, was still f further and further off from discerning their f leadings by the life and Spirit of God into r those things. But at length it pleased the r Lord to draw out his sword against that part * Penington's Works, Vol. II. p. 49. ( 33 ) r in m®, turning the wisdom and strength thereof f backward ; and to open that eye in me again, ' wherewith he had given me to see the things of ' his kingdom in some measure from a child. k And then I saw and felt them grown in that r life and Spirit, which I, through the treachery ' of the fleshly- wise part, had been estranged to, e and had adulterated from. And now, what bit- ' ter days of mourning and lamentation ( even for < some years since) I have had over this, the ' Lord alone fully knows. Oh ! I have known c it to be a bitter thing to follow this wisdom, c in understanding of scriptures, in remember- c ing of scriptures, in remembering of experi- c ences, and in many more inward ways of work- ' ings, that many cannot bear to hear/ c The Lord hath judged me for that, and I f have borne the burden and condemnation of c that, which many at this day wear as their ' crown. And now, what am I at length? A f poor worm ! Whom can I warn effectually ? c Whom can I help ? Whpm can I stop from run- c ning into the pit ? But though I am nothing^ e I must speak, for the Lord draweth and moveth c me ; and how unserviceable soever my pity ( be, yet my bowels cannot but roll, both to- c wards those that are in misery, and those that ' are running into misery.'* And here we may pause ; and, having, by the medium of his own declaration, surveyed the * Vol. 1. p. cclvi. c ( 34 ) state of Isaac Penington's mind, we scarcely need hesitate to acknowledge that he had at- tained in no small degree to the possession of the grand qualifications of a Christian. " Now cc abideth Faith, Hope,, Love, these three ; but ec the greatest of these is Love."* Even in his political character, in which men otherwise amiable, are too apt to give way to animosity and rancour; even in this, and at a time when he had not so deeply penetrated the mysteries of the Christian religion, we have seen him invested with its spirit of forbearance and good-will. * I have sometimes wondered why the same word (a