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DEO REIPUBLICÆ ET AMICIS
M
Gronze Duffeld A. M
In tali nunquam lassat venatio sylva.
A.D.1884.
Tappan Presbyterian Association
LIBRARY.
Presented by HON. D. BETHUNE DUFFIELD.
From Library of Rev. Geo. Duffield, D.D.
MEMOIRS
OF
THE LIFE AND CHARACTER
OF THE LATE
REV. CORNELIUS WINTER;
COMPILED AND COMPOSED
BY WILLIAM JAY.
"Now mark the man of righteousness,
His several steps attend;
True pleasure runs through all his life,
And peaceful is his end."-Watts.
If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also
my servant be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour.”~Christ.
FIRST AMERICAN EDITION.
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY SAMUEL WHITING & CO.
AT THEIR THEOLOGICAL AND CLASSICAL BOOK-STORE,
No. 118 PEARL-STREET.
J. Seymour, printer.
¿
•
1811.

gust
Tappon Press, les
6-9-1932
2.
PREFACE.
BEFORE a work professedly biographical, can be
righteously justified or condemned, two things should
be fairly examined. First-What advantages are de-
rivable from the lives of particular individuals? Se-
condly-What characters are the most proper subjects
for delineation ?
The former of these questions it is easy to answer.
Biography has always been highly extolled. It has
frequently been compared with other kinds of compo-
sition, and pronounced peculiarly entertaining and in-
structive. The utility of it has been even ranked above
the advantages resulting from general history.
Let us attend to this preference, and see whether
it be not founded in reason and truth.-The aim of all
history should be to describe and exhibit persons im-
partially as they are, that goodness may excite admi-
ration, and vice abhorrence. Upon this principle, in-
dividual representations are obviously superior to ge-
neral and aggregate. When the attention is attracted
and confined to one particular object, the view is more ▾
distinct, and the impression is more forcible. Expansion
and division weaken. Multiplicity and variety distract.
This may be judged of, says a masterly writer, by the
feelings and operations of the mind in the contemplation
of other things." When, from the summit of some lof-
ty mountain, we survey the wide extended landscape ;
though highly delighted, we fecl ourselves bewilder-
ed and overwhelmed by the profusion and diversity of
beautics which nature spreads around us. But when
we enter the detail of nature: when we attend the
footsteps of a friend through some favoured, beauti-
iv
PREFACE.
ful spot, which the eye and the mind take in at once;
feeling ourselves at ease, with undivided, undistracted
attention, we contemplate the whole, we examine and
arrange the parts; the imagination is indeed less ex-
panded, but the heart is more gratified; our pleasure
is less violent and tumultuous, but it is more intense,
more complete, and continues much longer; what is
lost in respect of sublimity, is gained in perspicuity,
force, and duration." Again, "It is highly gratifying
to find ourselves in the midst of a public assembly of
agreeable people of both sexes, and to partake of the
general chcerfulness and benevolence. But what are
the cheerfulness and benevolence of a public assem-
bly, compared to the endearments of friendship, and
the meltings of love? To enjoy these, we must retire
from the crowd, and have recourse to the individual.
In like manner, whatever satisfaction and improvement
may be derived from general histories of mankind,
which we would not be thought by any means to depre-
ciate; yet the history of particular persons, if execut-
ed with fidelity and skill, while it exercises the judg-
ment less severely, so it fixes down the attention more
closely, and makes its way more directly and more
forcibly to the heart."
To this quotation, the beauty of which will more
than atone for the length, we may add, that biography
is the most eagerly read of all kinds of narrative pro-
ductions, and the most easily applied to the various
purposes of life.
But it is less necessary to enlarge upon the advan-
tages of this specics of writing, than to ascertain what
are the most proper subjects to bring under review.
-They are by no means persons raised to the high-
est elevations, or distinguished by the most extraordi-
nary achievements. For, not to observe that such cha-
racters are rarely remarkable for goodness and worth,
it is easy to see, that they fall not within the reach of
PREFACE.
common imitation-that they exhibit nothing that
leads to self reflection-nothing that occasions moral
comparison-nothing to reprove, to stimulate, to en-
courage in the course we pursue: they seem to be-
long to a state with which we have nothing to do : and
therefore, though they excite curiosity, and furnish
materials for conversation, they do not govern our
manners, or regulate our practice. How few are pla-
ced in situations in which they are likely to grow wis-
er, by the errors of a statesman, or the mistakes of a
general ! « Life," says Johnson, "derives its comforts
or -wretchedness from the management of these
things, which nothing but their frequency makes con-
siderable, and which can have no place in the rela-
tions of those, who never descend below the consul-
tations of senates, and the motions of armies."
"It is not," says the same author, "improper to
take advantage of prejudice, and to gain attention by a
celebrated name; but the business of the biographer
is often to pass slightly over those performances and
incidents which promote vulgar greatness, to lead the
thoughts into domestic privacies, and to display the
minute detail of daily life, where external appendages
are cast aside, and men excel each other only by pru-
dence and by virtue. There are many invisible circum-
stances which, whether we read as inquirers after na-
tural or moral knowledge, are more important than
public occurrences. Thus the story of Melancthon
affords a striking lecture on the value of time, by in-
forming us, that when he had an appointment, he ex-
pected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed,
that the day might not run out in the idleness of sus.
pense. And all the plans and enterprises of De Wit
are now of less importance to the world, than the part
of his personal character which represents him as y
careful of health, and negligent of life. In the esti-
mation of uncorrupt reason, what is of most use is of
不​囉
​4523
A 2
vi
PREFACE.
1
most value. Between falsehood and useless truth
there is little difference. As gold which he cannot
spend, will make no man rich, so knowledge which he
cannot apply, will make no man wise."
Neither are eccentric characters the best suited to
instruct and impress. These can be easily made to
awaken notice, and therefore their lives are often writ-
ten and greedily read: but as the former subjects can-
not be imitated, so these ought not. Eccentricity is
sometimes found connected with genius, but it does
not coalesce with true wisdom. Hence men of the
first order of intellect, have never betrayed it; and
hence also men of secondary talents drop it as they
grow wiser; and are satisfied to found their conse-
quence on real and solid excellency, not on peculiari-
ty and extravagance. They are content to awaken re-
gard, and obtain applause by the rectitude and grace-
fulness of their going, rather than to make passengers
stare and laugh by leaping over the wall, or tumbling
along the road. True greatness is serious: tri-
fling is beneath its dignity. We are more indebted
to the regular, sober, constant course of the sun, than
to the glare of the comet: the one indeed, occupies
our papers, but the other enriches our fields and gar-
dens; we gaze at the strangeness of the one, but we
live by the influence of the other.
For the purposes of biography, those lives are the
most eligible that are the most imitable; and these are
derived from characters that belong to our own com-
munity, that are found in the same relations and con-
ditions with ourselves: whose circumstances make us
feel for the time the emotions which would be excit-
ed by the same good or evil happening to ourselves;
whose attainments, while they resulted from the di-
vine blessing, appear not to have been preturnatural,
but were made under no greater advantages than our
●wn; whose progress was not less owing to the stroke
PREFACE.
V
of the oar, than the favourableness of the wind; whose
excellencies, while they do not discourage us by their
perfection, animate us by their degree; whose suc-
cess teaches us, not how to be great, but how to be
good and happy; whose piety is not fluctuating, but
steady; not visionary, but producing a beautiful cor-
respondence to all the claims of the stations in which
they are placed.
Those lives are worthy of remark that exhibit a
sameness of principle in diversified circumstances.-
For the changing scenes through which a man pass-
es, render his history at once more interesting and
more profitable; they revolve his character, and we
behold it successively in every point of light.
A life is deserving of regard that has filled various
offices and relations, and has been exemplary in each →
of them. They that were connected with him, and
those who were under his care, will be likely to re-
member his instructions and example; while he serves
as a model for others who are called to move in the
same direction with himself.
Our great moralist admires a life in which a man
is his own biographer. "Those relations are com-
monly of most value in which the writer tells his own
story. He that recounts the life of another, common-
ly dwells most upon conspicuous events, lessens the
familiarity of his tale to increase its dignity, shows
his favourite at a distance, decorated and magnified
like the ancient actors in their tragic dress, and en-
deavours to hide the man, that he may produce a he-
ro. But if it be true which was said by a French
prince, that no man was a hero to the servants of his
chamber; it is equally true, that every man is yet less
a hero to himself. He that is most elevated above
the crowd by the importance of his employment, or
the reputation of his genius, feeis himself affected by
fame or business, but as they influence his domestic
;
W
viii
PREFACE.
life. The high and low, as they have the same facul-
ties and the same senses, have no less similitude in
their pains and pleasures. The sensations are the
same in all, though produced by different occasions.
The prince feels the same pain when an invader seiz-
es a province, as the farmer when a thief drives away
his cow.
Men, thus equal in themselves, will appear
equal in honest and impartial biography; and those
whom fortune or nature place at the greatest distance,
may afford instruction to each other.
"The writer of his own life has at least the first
qualification of an historian, the knowledge of the
truth; and though it may be plausibly objected, that
his temptations to disguise it, are equal to his oppor-
tunities of knowing it, yet I cannot but think that im-
partiality may be expected with equal confidence
from him that relates the passages of his own life, as
from him that delivers the transactions of another.-
He that sits down calmly and voluntarily to review
his life for the admonition of posterity, or to amuse
himself, and leaves this account unpublished, may be
commonly presumed to tell truth, since falsehood can-
not appease his own mind, and fame will not be heard
beneath the tomb."
If these considerations are allowed, I am fully
justified in having wished to send forth the following
account of the Rev. Cornelius Winter. It was prin-
cipally written by himself. He has moved in a vari-
ety of relative situations. His life, though it has not
made so much noisc in the world as the progress of
some others, has been in no small degree diversified
and eventful; and the whole has been in a high de-
gree, holy, benevolent, and useful.
It has indeed been supposed, that the delineation
of very eminent examples may be injurious to per-
sons of weak and tender minds; and that the sight
fo superiority so great, will discourage from efforts at
PREFACE.
iş
h
imitation. Three things will fully answer such an
objection as this. First.-Though persons of inferior
attainments ought to be encouraged, they ought not
to be flattered. We must not turn the cordials of the
Gospel into opiates; nor lull into satisfaction with
themselves, those who ought to be roused to advance
and excel. Secondly.—It is well to have a good copy,
however imperfect the writing may be. A pattern
ought to be something above us; something that will
remind us of deficiency, and animate us to diligence.
Thirdly. The sources of excellency lie open to us.
If the attainments of those we commemorate were
self-derived, and we were required to follow them in
our own strength, we might indeed feel discouraged
at the contemplation. But if their faith, and hope,
and love, and usefulness, were the production of God's
own Spirit-if the residue of this Spirit is with him—
and he has said, "Ask and it shall be given you, seek
and ye shall find"-none need despair. By the grace
of God they were what they were: and the grace that
was sufficient for them is equally so for us. We
should therefore be strong in the grace that is in
Christ Jesus.
But some may imagine we have spoken too high-
ly of the venerable subject of the following pages.
And it must be acknowledged that the manner in
which works of biography have been frequently ex-
ecuted, has rendered a suspicion of this kind too na-
tural. So often has the writer been the eulogist in-
stead of the historian that the mind becomes scep-
tical, and takes it for granted that if fable be not mix-
ed with fact, reality is embellished by description,
and magnified by the fondness of admiration. There
is also peculiar danger that a biographer will be warp-
ed into partiality and exaggeration,if he feels very pow-
erfully the sentiments of esteem and gratitude. I
hope my readers will do me the justice to believe-
$
PREFACE.
that I sat down to this work under a persuasion of
the truth of these remarks, and aware of the danger
in which my feelings placed me. I have endeavour-
ed to keep myself under the eye of God-and though
I know not whether there has been a wakeful hour
since his death, in which I have not thought of the
deceased, or that I have written a page concerning
him without tears-for tears have been my meat*.-
I am confident nothing has been advanced in the re-
presentation that equals the original.
Indeed, in commendation of this servant of God,
this benefactor of man, I am in no hazard of contra-
diction from those who knew him: for perhaps sel-
dom, if ever, was there such an harmony of senti-
ment concerning any individual before.
"That good
man," was the manner in which he was always intro-
duced, and the preface to every thing that was said of
him.
The work ought to have been better: and pro-
bably would have been, if more time had been allow-
ed by the importunity of friendship; but I have done
what I could in a very few weeks of frequent inter-
ruption and indisposition. The toil of examining an
immense number of letters received and written by
the deceased, and the perplexity of selecting extracts,
and inserting them in their proper place, have not
been without fatigue. But I have laboured with plea-
sure, and rejoice in the enterprise, from a persuasion
that what I have written from the warmest affection
and the highest regard, will at the same time be rati-
fied by a large proportion of the public voice; and
that I am doing good to others while I have an oppor-
tunity to indulge my own feelings, and to acknowlege
* "When Heaven would set our spirits free,
And earth's enchantment end,
It takes the most effectual means,
And robs us of a friend."
YOUNG.
PREFACE.
xi
!
1
1.
the obligations to my dear and honoured friend and
benefactor, which I shall never be able to discharge.
To him I owe all my respectability in life, and all my
opportunities of public usefulness. Though not a
child by birth, I have been one by adoption; and close
this Preface by a line borrowed from Homer, which
our admired Cowper, with some little variation, in-
scribed on a bust of his Grecian favourite :
«Ως τε πατήρ ᾧ παιδὶ, καὶ ἐποτε λήσομαι αὐτῷ”
Lov'd as his son, in him I early found,
A father such as I will ne'er forget.
Bath, April 1, 1808.
WILLIAM JAY.
די
CONTENTS.
!
PART I.
His own Account of himself,
PART II.
CHAP. I. His Life continued,
CHAP. II. His sickness and death,
CHAP. III. Views of his character-As a
man of talents—A tutor—A mi-
nister-An anthor-A christian
-His private life-His friend-
ship-Beneficence-Innocency-
Candour-Diligence-Humility
-Confidence in God,
Page
1
- 165
179
193
CHAP. IV. General remarks, -
- 288
PART III.
CHAP. I. Extracts from his Diary,
CHAP. II. A selection of his Letters,
- 305
- 319
MEMOIRS
OF THE LATE
REV. CORNELIUS WINTER.
PART I.
HIS OWN ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF.
THE following letters were all sent in the year
one thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine.
This is the only date they bear. The Editor
deemed it proper to omit a few very minute pas-
sages into which the writer had dropped, perhaps
from his not suspecting, or his not remembering,
that they were to meet the public eye. Some
who were unacquainted with the deceased may
think that more ought to have been suppressed:
but they who knew him will readily and gladly
indulge him in a little amplitude and particulari-
ty, while relating his own story, to one who
would naturally feel interested in the detail of
the whole.
LETTER I.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
YOU have taken frequent occasion to testify
your disposition to preserve our long established
B
2
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
I
friendship. It commenced by the good provi-
dence of God; it has hitherto been preserved in-
violate; it has been attended with reciprocal ad-
vantages; it has given you the claims of a son,
and produced in me the tender sensibility of a pa-
rent, never offended, but always made happy by a
consistent, uniform, and endearing conduct.
have no secret that I would wish to conceal from
you; there is no instance in which I can oblige
you, but I am ready to attend to it. You have
requested to see my life extended to this pe-
riod, drawn out by my own hand; and I have only
waited for a fair opportunity to gratify you. Use
as you please what I communicate. I am too in-
considerable to attract the attention of the pub-
lic. Every man is a history to himself. I review
my own life with humiliation and self-abhor-
rence for sins, in my younger years, committed
against the Lord; but my humiliation is not li-
mited to that period. I would wish it to be, in
part, the closing act of my days. I have obtained
mercy, and gratitude is highly due to the God of
my life. I have been the subject of his providen-
tial goodness; hitherto has the Lord helped me.
Select friends, as well as yourself, may be enter-
tained by the recital of the divine conduct, and if
any may be excited by it under similar circum-
stances, either in youth or riper years, to trust in
the Lord, I shall esteem the end of its being com-
municated answered.
I am,
With more affection than words can express,
Ever yours,
CORNELIUS WINTER.
PART I.
3
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
LETTER II.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
In looking to the rock from whence I was hewn,
and to the hole of the pit from whence I was dig-
ged, I have an effectual antidote against pride; in
the mention of them I feel no mortification.
Gray's-inn-lane, in the parish of St. Andrew,
Holborn, was the place of my nativity. I was
born the ninth and last child of John and Cathe-
rine Winter, on the ninth of October, in the year
one thousand seven hundred and forty-two, and
was baptized on the sixteenth day of the same
month, in the parish church.
I am very unacquainted with the history of
my family, but from what I have heard of the
place of my father's birth, which was in or near
Nottingham, and his being educated a Dissenter,
I am inclined to conceive my descent is from Dr.
Winter, mentioned in Palmer's Non-conformist's
Memorial. However, this can be but conjecture,
and would be of little consequence could it be as-
certained.
I know my mother was a native of Guildford,
in Surry. Her immediate descent was humble.
She was the second wife of my father. He was
by trade a shoe-maker, in very moderate circum-
stances; he was elected, in the latter part of his
life, head porter of Gray's-inu, a situation worth
sixty pounds per annum. He died of a consump-
tion when I was nine months old. I remember to
have heard it remarked, when I was a child, that
on his death bed, he much lamented that he had
C
.4
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
J.
not felt himself affectionately disposed towards
me. But it may be easily accounted for, from my
being too young to have any thing attractive, and
from the petulance and decay of spirits, not un-
common to persons in that disorder.
My mother survived him seven years, in a de-
clining state, which also terminated in a consump.
tion. She was not wanting in her affection to
me; but I was nursed and reared principally by
her sister, who was sheltered both by my father,
and herself, from one of the most cruel husbands
that ever disgraced human nature; and she had
the greatest share of my affection. This foster
parent was removed from the family by necessity,
previous to my mother's decease. My brother, at
the time of my mother's death, about twenty-three
years of age, and my sister about seventeen, with
myself, were the only survivors of the nine chil-
dren. My brother, who had served seven years
apprenticeship to a watch-maker, soon fell a sacri-
fice to youthful lusts. I had been encouraged to
hope for support from him, but in consequence of
his bad conduct, he enlisted in the East-India
service, and died abroad. My sister designed to
exert herself for me, and had she been as prudent
as she was capable, might have supported me till
the usual period in which lads are apprenticed :
but she had many attractions, and fell into en-
snaring company. A few years she was the dupe
to vice, but afterwards reformed; and I have rea-
son to conclude, was effectually awakened, and
savingly converted, by Mr. Romaine's ministry,
and died under the influence of divine grace.
After the death of my mother I was suffered to
PART. I.]
5
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
1
wander the streets, and spend my time in idleness →
and childish dissipation. Soon after I was turned
of eight years, I was admitted into the charity
school of St. Andrew, Holborn, and thought it an
high honour conferred upon me. I felt it an afflic
tion to be deprived of schooling, and frequently
found time hang heavy till I gained the privilege.
When returning from school, I found myself ex-
cluded our apartments; I was often in want of food,
and at a loss for many hours to know what was be-
come of my sister. By degrees I missed pieces of
furniture, and perceived affairs going on seriously
bad. My mother had the care of several sets of
chambers in Gray's-inn ever since I could remem-
ber, which, in conjunction with the business of a
laundress, was the means of our subsistence; my
sister was very ingenious with her needle and her
pen, and conducted the whole business with great
credit, during the period wherein my mother lay
helpless. Previous to that time, she was her right
hand, and was encouraged to go on with the busi-
ness after her decease; but she had formed a ten-
der connexion, which was never consummated;
and having been drawn into dissipation, matters
became daily embarrassed.
She took occasion one day to inform me the fur-
niture would be sold, that she must go to service,
and that I must go to the work-house. She was
not deficient in affection. I dearly loved her, and
I hoped the event would turn out for good. I do
not recollect finding myself reluctant to my fate.
It was a peculiar pleasure to me to be informed I
should be continued in the school.
B 2
6
MEMOIRS or C. WINTER.
15
I was introduced into a ward of thirty boys.
Many inconveniences, it may be supposed, I felt *,
but with all I can recollect that I was at the same
time impressed with a sense of many mercies, and
became soon familiarized to the situation.
:
* Of these the author has noticed several instances, such as
crowding together a great number of boys into one bed, allowing
them insufficient food, disregarding their cleanliness, neglecting
their health, &c. These the editor has suppressed above, and
would not have remarked them here, but for the sake of lament-
ing-that the design of charitable institutions should so often be
subverted wholly or partially, through the avarice or inattention-
of hirelings. This might, in some measure at least, be prevent-
ed, if proper persons would undertake to inspect them. The
editor remembers, when in Dublin, to have met with a gentleman
who had retired from business, and lived on a small independ-
ence, who devoted himself entirely to this object. He investi
gated all the benevolent establishments in the city, and having
ascertained the design of them, and the advantages the benefici-
aries were authorized to expect from them, he published the ac-
count, to enable any of the inhabitants to judge whether justice
was done them; and visited them weekly in rotation himself.
How many ways are there of doing good, even where persons
have it not in their power to afford pecuniary assistance! How
desirable is it to deserve the eulogium pronounced on Mary,
"She hath done what she could!"
As to the condition itself in which Mr. W. frankly acknow-
ledges himself to have been found, it must prove very unac-
ceptable and offensive to all those who "worship the God of
this world," and can think of nothing worthy attention sepa-
rable from guineas and ribbons. Were it not for the remote-
ness of the scene, how much more scandalized must they be
when they hear our apostles saying, "even to this hour we both
hunger and thirst, and are naked and buffetted, and have no
certain dwelling place:" and to read of the mother of our Sa-
viour, that "She brought forth her first born son, and wrapped
him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because
there was no room for him in the inn !”
PART 1.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
This part of my history includes about two years.
When I look back as far as I can remember, I can
collect many circumstances which are not suffi-
ciently interesting to insert here; one however I
cannot omit, namely, the frequent and deep im-
pressions made upon my mind by religion. I have
been informed by some who knew me before I
knew myself, that it was hardly possible to keep
me in the house after Gray's-inn chapel bell struck
out, to summon people to the daily prayers at
eleven in the morning and five in the evening. I
well remember its powerful attraction, and also
the first time wherein, after very earnest entreaty,
I was intrusted to go by myself to St. Andrew's
church. I can recollect the pious frame of my
mind, the energy with which I could repeat
prayers, and according to my ability read, and
heard the Scriptures read. A very serious walk
round Gray's-inn, with some of my companions on
a sabbath day evening, and our conversation upon
the greatness and goodness of God, excited by the
serenity of the element, frequently occurs to my
mind. I attended funerals till I could repeat the
burial service by rote. In the time in which I was
denied the privilege of school, I frequently went
to St. Andrew's church, at the hour of prayer, and
recollect perfectly the first time, that the twenty-
first chapter of St. Luke, being read by the minis-
ter in the desk, made a deep impression upon me.
Indeed the Scriptures I am now most conversant
with are those I have heard read in the desk, or
recited as texts from the pulpit, through a succes
sion of sixteen or eighteen years. I enjoyed go-
ing to church on the saints days and on the sab
S
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
bath days, and, with a few exceptions which were
always accompanied with remorse, devoutly joined
in the prayers and psalmody of the church, and of
the school. My mind at times has been so eleva-
ted that I believe I could have received the sum-
mons of death with joy.
I am inclined to think these frames may be attri·
buted to the work of the Spirit of God, which,
though early begun, was frequently interrupted by
sinful propensities, and practices which, as the re.
sult of temptation, I fell into; the recollection of
which gives me pain, and constrains me to pray;
'O remember not against me former iniquities; re-
member not the sins of my youth.' I frequently
feel the most powerful distress for them now, at
the age of fifty-seven, and if I could, would make
retribution. I must, and blessed be God I may
be, a debtor, to the blood of Jesus. I never did
any thing inconsistent with the strict rule of mo-
rality without feeling the smart of conscience.
An innocent forgetfulness became the inlet of
a sad temptation, in compliance with which I was
too successful a practitioner in sin. As the soli-
citation occurred, I many times laid myself un-
der a curse, that I would commit the sin no more.
But nothing short of converting grace could break
the snare. One day I fell by the temptation.
I had been in high expectation of hearing a fa-
vourite preacher on the following Sunday. When
the Sunday came, I hesitated much, whether,
with so much guilt upon me, I should go to
church. I did go, but got sorely wounded by
considering the impropriety of the religious act
of that day, with my sinful conduct in the course
of the week.
1
PART 1.HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
I
]
ees.
I found out a relation who was dying in a con-
sumption. He was the son of the widow of my
father's brother. He encouraged me, when I had
liberty, to visit him. In death he recommended
me to his brother's notice, who had been indebt-
ed to my father for putting him apprentice. This
was Mr. Winter, Water-gilder, in Bunhill-row, of
whom I had not any knowledge. I found he had
a design to take me from the work-house. I wish
I could represent his design in a pleasing light.
He appeared disposed to let me go to the charity-
school for the advantage of education, but instant-
ly as he took me, I was dismissed by the trust-
I heard it was to be my fate; but hoped
the report was false, especially as the committee-
day passed in which the business of the school
was attended to, and the scholars were review-
ed, without any notice being taken of it. I went
as usual, the next morning, at the exact time, for
I never was late, nor ever incurred displeasure
by an hour's absence unavoidably. After the usu-
al exercise of prayer, the head master surlily came
up to me, and demanded if my Sunday's clothes
were in their place, (they were taken home on the
Saturday and returned on the Monday, by the law
of the school.) On being answered in the affirm-
ative, he told me I must go away, that I was no
longer of that school. It is not to be described
what I felt. I returned to my new home, broken-
hearted. As Mr. Winter permitted me to apply
for readmission, I am inclined to think it was not
his design to prevent me the advantage of the
schooling, at least for a time. The month was a
very gloomy onc. On the Sunday I betook my-
10
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
self to the church, longing to be in my seat;
like an out-cast I placed myself after church, at
the school door and was pierced to the heart by
seeing the procession of the scholars, without per-
mission to join them. On the committee-day I
presented my petition for readmission, begged
access into the room, kneeled upon my knees,
and with crying and tears entreated for God's sake
the learning of the school might be granted to
me; but nothing was said to me; on the other
hand, an haughty clergyman, dressed in his full
suit of robes, ordered me instantly to be taken
out.
I had not been two years in the school; and
three severe fits of sickness, the saints days, and
Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide holidays, made
a considerable reduction from that time, and no
very great attention was paid to improvement;
so that I had merely learned to write when my
schooling closed, without being set to put three
figures together, or to learn one line in any of
the tables.
I now became the errand boy, and was devoted
to what employ I was capable of in the work-
shop, and occasionally in the kitchen, and other
domestic services from six in the morning till
eight in the evening, or later, as occasion served.
This was my situation till I was one and twenty
years of age. Mr. Winter was a man of very ir-
ritable, severe temper, unhappy in his marriage,
and given exceedingly to drinking. Whatever
ruffled his temper, I was the victim upon whom
he vented his rage. By his severity my spirits.
were soon broken, and I became so enervated
-PART I.]
11
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
that the step of his foot up stairs, and the sight
of him, commonly threw me into a tremor. Up-
on the slightest occasion he would beat me un-
mercifully. He never was at a loss for a weapon:
iron was the same as wood; consequences were
not regarded. I review the scene and shudder.
I sometimes wonder that I have my faculties. To
this very time I frequently dream I am with him
under his displeasure, and feel uneasiness. Dur-
ing the period of twelve years, I often thought it
were better to die than to live, and in some parts
of that time was ready to say, I choose strangling
rather than life. Had I in the former years been
a partaker of grace, I should have thought I en-
dured, as seeing him who is invisible; but as this
was not the case, I sometimes wonder, on reflec-
tion, that I did not elope from him, and submit to
any thing rather than such perpetual torture of
body and mind. It was a very abject situation; I
had nothing to encourage me. Overburdened one
day with the severity of my usage, I made an ef-
fort to get work, and was determined to disengage
myself from my hard task-master. This I could
legally have done as he had not bound me to him.
He was informed of it and was alarmed. He
came up in the shop one morning in an unusual
good humour, directed his discourse to me, ap-
plauded my work, asked me, if I had heard the
news of young men not apprenticed being liable
to be forced into the king's service, and, as it
was the time of war, said he had no method of
screening me, but by binding me to him Per-
ceiving that he was imposing upon me, and sus-
pecting he had a design of an unworthy naturę,
12
OP' C. WINTER.
MEMOIRS ·
especially as he kept me back in my improvement
and had till then refused to bind me, I resisted
Iris motion. He then unmasked, flew into a pas-
sion, informed me that he had heard I had applied
for business, and threatened to demand recom-
pense for my subsistence for the time I had been
with him. I was persuaded into submission.-
The indenture was antedated, and I continued
to wear the galling chain for four years longer.
I was not my own guide. I could not help
myself without risking difficulties, which might
have been equal to those I underwent with him.
I doubtless had my faults. Many I recollect,
and, under the review of them, am humbled be-
fore God; but those he might charge me with,
did not merit that indiscreet severity he exercised
upon me I shall in the course of this memoir
have occasion to mention him again. I bless God
I was not suffered to precipitate myself into ruin,
but was enabled patiently to endure; and as I sub-
scribe to his wisdom in permitting events thus to
occur, I have to recollect with gratitude his kind-
ness towards me afterwards. He has instructed
me and taught me. He has been a father unto
me, and shall receive praise from me.
I will re-
lieve your attention, and at present subscribe my-
self,
}
My very dear friend,
Yours affectionately, &c.
PART I
13
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
LETTER III.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
In the former letter I mentioned that I can recol-
lect my mind being often in a very pious frame;
I will here cite a fresh instance. By being brought
to Mr. Winter, I became an inhabitant of the pa-
rish of St. Luke, Old-street. On Saturday, I frequent-
ly anticipated the pleasures of the day ensuing,
not merely as a day of leisure, but of devotion;
and usually attended St. Luke's church, morning
and afternoon, and thought it an additional plea-
sure to have opportunity to attend a monthly eve-
ning lecture at Cripplegate. A charity sermon
was of great importance to me, as it afforded me
an opportunity to hear a new preacher: and I al-
most envied the boys the privilege of the charity
-judge you how I must feel when a bishop preach-
ed. My situation sometimes confined me at home
on a Sunday afternoon, when I engaged my at-
tention to the Bible. I remember to have fatigued
myself once exceedingly in writing out the first
chapter of the second book of Kings. But it stuck
by me. O that I had habituated myself more to
that employ! I had all this time common and
very strong prejudices against the Methodists and
Dissenters. When my clothes were disgracefully
bad, which was sometimes the case, I absconded
from my own church, and occasionally wandered
into a meeting house. I at last got to hear Mr.
Whitefield two or three times, and was particular-
ly struck by his appearance and dress. Though
at the distance of sixty feet, and the congregation
C
:
14
MEMOIRS Of c. winter.
very crowded, I one Sunday evening thought he
spoke particularly to me, and the imagination had
a powerful effect upon me.
I believe it was the Christmas previous to this,
while at a card-table, I was taking some undue li-
berty with Mr. Whitefield's ministry, in the way of
burlesque; a Scotch woman who was sitting by,
but not in the party, very smartly reproved me,
desired I would take an opportunity to read and
pray over the eighth chapter of the epistle to the
Romans, till I understood it; and added she was
persuaded I should no longer despise Mr. White-
field's ministry. I never can forget the remorse I
felt from the reproof; and the advice, after I was
awakened, produced a peculiar attention to the
Scripture recommended to my attention.
In the year 1755, I had occasion to make a
purchase of a box, of which I was informed a poor
woman wanted to dispose. She afterwards in-
formed me, there was something in my appear-
She desired
ance that engaged her attention.
I would pay her a visit. I was ready to receive
her invitation, and drank tea with her the next
Sunday. Like one truly taught of God, and de-
sirous of communicating what she knew of him,
she entered upon religious subjects. She asked
me, if I had ever heard Mr. Whitefield; I replied
I had once or twice, and had no objection to him,
for I perceived she knew not how to speak affec-
tionately enough of him. But I said I could not
be reconciled to his lay preachers; and I urged
the common objection against them. I began to
speak in high terms of my favourite preachers at
church, and as she proposed my going with her to
PART 1.]
15
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
hear Mr. Whitefield, I urged her to go with me to
hear those I had mentioned.
She was soon tired of my fare, and told me my
favourite preachers could not give her what she
wanted. It was by first going with her to the
Tabernacle, that I was more peculiarly struck
with the largeness of the congregation-the so-
lemnity that sat upon it-the melody of the sing-
ing-Mr. Whitefield's striking appearance, and his
earnestness in preaching. From this time preju-
dice had no more place in my breast. Mr. White-
field became increasingly dear to me, and I em-
braced all opportunities to hear him. Yet I had
no knowledge of the evil of sin, and the depra-
vity of my nature. On the 9th of April, 1760,
being the Wednesday in the Easter-week, and the
close of the holidays, as I was playing at cards
with my fellow-servants; recollecting I might
that evening hear Mr. Whitefield, I broke off in
the midst of the game, which much discomposed
and enraged my companions, who suspected where
I was going. It was a night much to be remem-
bered. I have reason to hope the scales of igno-
rance then fell from my eyes, a sense of my misery
opened gradually to me, and I diligently inquired
what I should do to be saved. I never more, how-
ever, played a game at cards. The text I well
remember, was 1 Cor. xv. 51, 52. The introduc-
tion to the sermon, " Come, my brethren, we have
from Sunday till yesterday been meditating upon
the resurrection of our Lord, it is now time that
we should think about our own." Could I recite the
whole sermon, and it should read acceptably, it
would want the energy, viva voce, which was so
A
ما
I
A
16
MEMOIRS OF €. winter.
very peculiar to the preacher, that a resemblance
is no where to be found. But it was God in the
preacher that made the word efficacious; to him
be the glory. It is a mercy he is not confined to
the abilities of men whose talents are superior to
those of their brethren. Much good was at that
time doing by the instrumentality of men whose
gifts were very inconsiderable; and the Lord
could have wrought upon my soul by an inferior
preacher. The state of things at the Tabernacle
and Tottenham-court chapel, then differed from
what it is at the present day, in this, that the
supplies were not very considerable, Mr. Kinsman
excepted. Hence there was a very great dispro-
portion in the congregation; yet conversions were
very frequent, by means of the substitutes pro-
vided by Mr. Whitefield in his absence, notwith-
standing the inferiority of their gifts to his own.
It is not by might nor by power,' which is but
to say, it is not by human eloquence, but by the
Spirit of the Lord, that work is wrought upon the
soul which is essential to salvation. That the
Lord may go on to honour your gifts, and that you
may ever give him the glory of that good work he
performs by you, is the prayer of,
My dear friend,
Yours, &c.
LETTER IV.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
In compliance with your request, my own his-
tory must be entwined with the history of others.
L
PART I.]
17
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
I keep in mind the remark you made to me in a
late conversation, namely, that it was the opinion
of some, that there had not been sufficient notice
taken of Mr. Whitefield as a preacher, and that
you wished I would endeavour to exhibit him
more particularly in that view. I doubt I shall
fail in the attempt; though my close connexion
with his person as a private humble friend, as
well as the attention I paid to his ministry, may
be supposed to give me an advantage in writing
upon this head.
The time he set apart for preparations for the
pulpit, during my connexion with him, was not to
be distinguished from the time he appropriated to
other business. If he wanted to write a pamphlet
upon any occasion, he was closeted; nor would
he allow access to him, but on an emergency,
while he was engaged in the work. But I never
knew him engaged in the composition of a ser
mon until he was on board ship, when he en-
ployed himself partly in the composition of ser-
mons, and reading very attentively the history of
England, written by different authors. He had
formed a design of writing the history of Method-
ism, but never entered upon it. He was never
more in retirement on a Saturday than on another
day; nor sequestered at any particular time for a
period longer than he used for his ordinary devo-
tions. I never met with any thing like the form
of a skeleton of a sermon among his papers, with
which I was permitted to be very familiar, nor
did he ever give me any idea of the importance
of being habituated to the planning of a sermon.
It is not injustice to his great character to say, I
C 2
18
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
•
7
belive he knew nothing about such a kind of ex-
ercise.
Usually for an hour or two before he entered
the pulpit, he claimed retirement; and on a sab.
bath day morning more particularly, he was accus-
tomed to have Clarke's Bible, Matthew Henry's
Comment, and Cruden's Concordance within his
reach his frame at that time was more than ordi-
narily devotional; I say more than ordinarily, be-
cause, though there was a vast vein of pleasantry
usually in him, the intervals of conversation evi-
dently appeared to be filled up with private ejacu-
lation connected with praise. His rest was much
interrupted, and his thoughts were much en-
gaged with God in the night. He has often said
at the close of his very warm address, "This ser-
mon I got when most of you who now hear me
were fast asleep." He made very minute observa-
tions, and was much disposed to be conversant
with life, from the lowest mechanic to the first
characters in the land. He let nothing escape
him, but turned all into gold that admitted of im-
provement; and, in one way or another, the oc-
currence of the week or the day, furnished him
with matter for the pulpit.-A specimen-when
an extraordinary trial was going forward, he would
be present; and on observing the formality of the
judge putting on his black cap to pronounce seu-
tence, I have known him avail himself of it in
the close of a sermon; with his eyes full of tears,
and his heart almost too big to admit of speech,
dropping into a momentary pause" I'am going
now to put on my condemning cap: sinner, I
must do it; I must pronounce sentence upon
PART I. ]
19
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
you-" and then in a tremendous strain of elo-
you—
quence, recite our Lord's words, "Go, ye cursed,"
not without a very powerful description of the
nature of the curse. I again observe, that it
would be only by hearing him, and by beholding
his attitude and his tears, that a person could
well conceive of the effect; for it was impossible
but that solemnity must surround him, who, under
God, became the means of making all solemn.
He had a most peculiar art of speaking person-
ally to you, in a congregation of four thousand
people, when no one would suspect his object. If
I instance it in an effect upon the servant of the
house, I presume it is not unsuitable. She had
been remiss in her duty in the morning of the
day. In the evening, before the family retired to
rest, I found her under great dejection, the reason
of which I did not apprehend; for it did not
strike me, that in exemplifying a conduct incon-
sistent with the Christian's professed fidelity to his
blessed Redeemer, he was drawing it from remiss-
ness of duty in a living character; but she felt it
so sensibly as to be greatly distressed by it, until he
relieved her mind by his usually amiable deport-
ment. The next day, being about to leave town,
he called out to her "Farewell;" she did not
make her appearance, which he remarked to a fe-
male friend at dinner, who replied, "Sir, you have
exceedingly wounded poor Betty," which excited
in him a hearty laugh; and when I shut the coach-
door upon him, he said, " Be sure to remember me
to Betty; tell her the account is settled, and that
I have nothing more against her."
The famous comedian, Shuter, who had a great
20
The
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
!
partiality for Mr. Whitefield, showed him friend-
ship, and often attended his ministry. At one pe-
riod of his popularity he was acting in a drama un-
der the character of Ramble. During the run of
the performance he attended service on sabbath
at Tottenham-court chapel, and was seated in
the pew exactly opposite to the pulpit, and while
Mr. Whitefield was giving full sally to his soul,
and in his energetic address, was inviting sinuers
to the Saviour, he fixed himself full against Shuter,
with his eye upon him, adding, to what he had
previously said, “And thou, poor Ramble, who
hast long rambled from him, come you also. O
end your rambling by coming to Jesus." Shuter
was exceedingly struck, and coming in to Mr.
Whitefield, said, "I thought I should have faint-
ed, how could you serve me so?"-It was truly
impressive to see him ascend the pulpit. My inti-
mate knowledge of him admits of my acquitting
him of the charge of affectation. He always ap-
peared to enter the pulpit with a significance of
countenance, that indicated he had something of
importance which he wanted to divulge, and was
anxious for the effect of the communication. His
gravity on his descent was the same. As soon as
ever he was seated in his chair, nature demanded
relief, and gained it by a vast discharge from the
stomach, usually with a considerable quantity of
blood, before he was at liberty to speak. He was
averse to much singing after preaching, supposing
it diverted the savour of the subject. Nothing
awkward, nothing careless, appeared about him in
the pulpit, nor do I ever recollect his stumbling
upon a word. To his ordinary as well as to his
PART I. •]
21
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
public appearance, this observation applies; whe
ther he frowned or smiled, whether he looked grave
or placid, it was nature acting in him.
Professed orators might object to his hands being
lifted up too high, and it is to be lamented that in ✅
that attitude, rather than in any other, he is repre-
sented in print. His own reflection upon that pic-
ture was, when it was first put into his hands," Sure
I do not look such a sour creature as this sets me
forth; if I thought I did, I should hate myself."
It is necessary to remark that the attitude was very
transient, and always accompanied by some expres-
sions which would justify it. He sometimes had
occasion to speak of Peter's going out and weeping
bitterly, and then he had a fold of his gown at
command, which he put before his face with as
much gracefulness as familiarity.
I hardly ever knew him go through a sermon
without weeping, more or less, and I truly believe
his were the tears of sincerity. His voice was of-
ten interrupted by his affection; and I have heard
him say in the pulpit, "You blame me for weep-
ing, but how can I help it, when you will not
weep for yourselves, though your immortal souls
are upon the verge of destruction, and for aught
you know, you are hearing your last sermon, and
may never more have an opportunity to have Christ
offered to you *." His freedom in the use of his
* Mr. Winter remarks-The expression of offering Christ was
considered exceptionable by some good men, contemporaries
with him, whose judgment framed their phraseology; but though
Mr. Whitefield was orthodox, his affection and zeal were not to
be restrained from using free address, while labouring for the
22
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
passions often put my pride to the trial. I could
hardly bear such unreserved use of tears, and the
scope he gave to his feelings, for sometimes he ex-
ceedingly wept, stamped loudly and passionately,
and was frequently so overcome, that, for a few
seconds, you would suspect he never could reco-
ver; and when he did, nature required some little
time to compose herself.
You may be sure from what has been said, that
when he treated upon the sufferings of our Sa-
viour, it was not without great pathos. He was
very ready at that kind of painting which fre-
quently answered the end of real scenery. As
though Gethsemene were within sight, he would
say, stretching out his hand-" Look yonder!-
what is that I see! it is my agonizing Lord!"-
And, as though it were no difficult matter to
catch the sound of the Saviour praying, he would
exclaim, "Hark! hark! do not you hear?"-You
may suppose that as this occurred frequently,
the efficacy of it was destroyed; but, no; though
we often knew what was coming, it was as new to
us as though we had never heard it before.
That beautiful apostrophe, used by the prophet
Jeremiah, "O earth, earth, earth, hear the word
of the Lord," was very subservient to him, and
never used impertinently.
He abounded with anecdotes, which, though
not always recited verbatim, were very just as to
the matter of them. One, for instance, I remem-
conversion of sinners. The language had been sanctioned by
the old divines; and in the Scriptures we more than once read
of "receiving Christ."
PART 1.]
23
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ber, tending to illustrate the efficacy of prayer,
though I have not been able to meet with it in
the English history-it was the case of the Lon-
don apprentices before Henry the Eighth, plead-
ing his pardon of their insurrection. The mo-
narch, moved by their sight, and their plea, " Mer-
cy! mercy!" cried, "Take them away, I cannot
bear it." The application you may suppose was,
that if an earthly monarch of Henry's description,
could be so moved, how forcible is the sinner's
plea in the ears of Jesus Christ. The case of
two Scotchmen, in the convulsion of the state at
the time of Charles the Second, subserved his de-
sign; who unavoidably obliged to pass some of
the troops, were conceiving of their danger, and me-
ditating what method was to be adopted, to come
off safe; one proposed the wearing of a scull-
cap; the other, supposing that would imply dis-
trust of the providence of God, was determined
to proceed bare-headed. The latter, being first
laid hold of, and being interrogated "Are you for
the covenant?" replied," Yes;" and being further
asked "What covenant?" answered, "The cove-
of grace," by which reply, eluding further in-
quiry, he was let pass; the other, not answering
satisfactorily, received a blow with the sabre,
which penetrating through the cap struck him
dead. In the application, Mr. Whitefield, warn-
ing against vain confidence, cried, "Beware of
your scull-caps." But here likewise the descrip-
tion upon paper, wanting the reality as exempli-
fied by him with voice and motion, conveys but
a very faint idea. However, it is a disadvantage
4
1
24
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
which must be submitted to, especially as coming
from my pen.
He
The difference of the times in which Mr.
Whitefield made his public appearance, materi-
ally determined the matter of his sermons, and,
in some measure, the manner of his address.
dealt far more in the explanatory and doctrinal
mode of preaching on a Sabbath-day morning,
than, perhaps, at any other time; and sometimes
made a little, but by no means improper, show of
learning. If he had read upon astronomy in the
course of the week, you would be sure to discover
it. He knew how to convert the centripetal mo-
tion of the heavenly bodies to the disposition of
the christian toward Christ, and the fatal attrac-
tion of the world would be very properly
represented by a reference to the centrifugal.
Whatever the world might think of him, he had
his charms for the learned as well as for the un-
learned; and as he held himself to be a debtor
both to the wise and to the unwise, each received
his due at such times. The peer and the pea-
sant alike went away satisfied.
As though he heard the voice of God ever
sounding in his ears the important admonition,
"Work while it is called to-day," this was his
work in London at one period of his life :-After
administering the Lord's supper to several hun-
dred communicants, at half an hour after six in
the morning; reading the first and second ser-
vice in the desk, which he did with the greatest
propriety, and preaching full an hour, he read
prayers and preached in the afternoon, previous
-
PART I.
25
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
to the evening service, at half an hour after five;
and afterwards addressed a large society in public.
His afternoon sermon used to be more general
and exhortatory. In the evening he drew his
how at a venture, vindicated the doctrines of
grace, fenced them with articles and homilies,
referred to the Martyrs' seal, and exemplified the
power of divine grace in their sufferings, by quo-
tations from the venerable Fox. Sinners were then
closely plied, numbers of whom from curiosity
coming to hear a sentence or two, were often com-
How many
pelled to hear the whole sermon.
in the judgment-day will rise to prove that they
heard to the salvation of the soul! The society,
which after sermon was encircled in the æra of
the Tabernacle, consisted of widows, married peo-
ple, young men and spinsters, placed separately;
all of whom, when a considerable part of the con-
gregation was resettled, for hundreds used to stay
upon the occasion, used to receive from him in
the colloquial style, various exhortations compri-
sed in short sentences, and suitable to their va-
rious stations. The practice of christianity in all
its branches was then usually inculcated, not
without some pertinent anecdote of a character
worthy to be held up for an example, and in whose
conduct the hints recommended were exemplifi-
ed. To the young men, for instance-A young
man in the mercantile line whose uncle described
him as such a jumble of religion and business,
that he was fit for neither. A widow would be
held up to view, remarkable for her confidence
in God. A young woman would be described
commendable for her chastity, prudence, and de-
D
:
:
{
+
26
MEMOIRS OF C. winter.
>
corum-in a way that made it desirable for each
description of characters to imitate them. Mas-
ters of households at these opportunities, parents
and children, had their portion, but nothing en-
forced upon legal principles.
Perhaps Mr. Whitefield never preached greater
sermons than at six in the morning, for at that
hour he did preach winter and summer, on Mon-
days, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.-
At these times his congregations were of the se-
lect description, and young men received admo-
nitions similar with what were given in the soci-
ety; and were cautioned, while they neglected
the duty required from them under the bond of
an indenture, not to anticipate the pleasures and
advantages of future life. Beware of being gold-
en apprentices, silver journeymen, and copper
masters, was one of the cautions I remember upon
those occasions.
His style was now colloquial, with little use of
motion; pertinent expositions, with suitable re-
marks; and all comprehended within the hour.
Christian experience principally made the subject
of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday
evening lectures; when, frequently having fune-
ral sermons to preach, the character and experi
ence of the dead helped to elucidate the subject,
led to press diligence in the christian course, to re-
flect upon the blessing of faith on earth and glory
in heaven. Mr. Whitefield adopted the custom of
the inhabitants of New England in their best days,
of beginning the Sabbath at six o'clock on Satur-
day evenings. The custom could not be obser-
ved by many, but it was convenient to a few-a
PART I.]
27
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
·
few compared with the multitude, but abstracted-
ly considered, a large and respectable company.
Now ministers of every description found a pe-
culiar pleasure in relaxing their minds from the fa-
tigues of study, and were highly entertained by his
peculiarly excellent subjects, which were so suit-
able to the auditory, that I believe it was seldom
disappointed. It was an opportunity peculiarly
suited to apprentices and journeymen in some bu-
sinesses, which allowed of their leaving work soon-
er than on other days, and availing themselves
at least of the sermon; from which I also occa-
sionally obtained my blessings. Had my memo-
ry been retentive, aud had I studiously treasured
up his rich remarks, how much more easily might
I have met your wishes, and have answered the
design of this letter! But though I have lost
much of the letter of his sermons, the savour of
them yet remains. The peculiar talents he pos-
sessed, subservient to great usefulness, can be
but faintly guessed from his sermous in print;
though, as formerly God has made the reading
of them useful, I have no doubt but in future
they will have their use. The eighteen taken
in short hand, and faithfully transcribed by Mr.
Gurney, have been supposed to do discredit to
his memory, and therefore they were suppressed.
But they who have been accustomed to hear him,
may collect from them much of his genuine
preaching. They were far from being the best
specimens that might have been produced. He
preached many of them when, in fact, he was al-
most incapable of preaching at all. His consti-
tution, long before they were taken, had received
28
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
its material shock, and they were all, except the
two last, the production of a Wednesday even-
ing; when by the current business of the day, he
was fatigued and worn out. The "Good Shep-
herd" was sent him on board the ship. He was
much disgusted with it, and expressed himself
to me as in the 1440th letter of the third volume
of his works-" It is not verbatim as I delivered
it. In some places it makes me speak false con-
cord, and even nonsense; in others the sense and
connexion is destroyed by the injudicious dis-
jointed paragraphs, and the whole is entirely un-
fit for the public review." His manuscript jour-
nal, as quoted by Dr. Gillies, notes-" September
15. This morning came a surreptitious copy of
my Tabernacle farewell sermon, taken, as the
short-hand writer professes, verbatim as I spoke
it; but surely he is mistaken. The whole is so
injudiciously paragraphed, and so wretchedly un-
connected, that I owe no thanks to the misguided,
though it may be well-meant, zeal of the writer
and publisher, be they whom they will. But such
conduct is an unavoidable tax upon popularity."
He was then like an ascending Elijah, and many
were eager to catch his dropping mantle. In the
sermons referred to there are certainly many jew-
els, though they may not be connected in a pro-
per order.
Whatever fault criticism may find with his ser-
mons from the press, they were, in the delivery,
powerful to command the most devoted attention.
I have been informed by good judges, that if
many of the speeches in our two houses were to
be given in their original state, they would not
PART I.]
29
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
appear to the first advantage, nor would Mr.
Whitefield's sermons have had criminal defects,
had they been revised with his own pen. In the
fifth and sixth volumes of his works, all the ser.
mons be ever printed are comprised. It is very
easy to distinguish them which were pre-com-
posed, from others which were preached extempo-
rary. Of the latter, I notice Peter's denial of his
Lord, and the true way of beholding the Lamb
of God; Abraham's offering up his son Isaac ;
Christ the believer's husband, and the resurrection
of Lazarus. These and others preserve the extem-
porary style, and fully serve to discover the exact-
ness of the preacher. He shines brightest with a
long text, on which fancy has scope to play, and
the mind has liberty to range. However exact he
may appear in the page, it is impossible for the na-
tural man, who discerneth not the things of the
Spirit, to understand him. God may make the
page printed, the instrument in his hand to con-
vert the sinner, and then he will no longer ask,
"Doth he not speak parables?" but till then, as
living he was, so dead, he is liable to the lash of
severity: but the same Providence that preserved
his person, will maintain his works: and thus he
being dead, yet speaketh, and will continue to
speak for a great while to come. Whatever invi-
dious remarks they may make upon his written
discourses, they cannot invalidate his preaching.
Mr. Toplady called him the prince of preachers,
and with good reason, for none in our day preach-
ed with the like effect. It is probable I shall have
occasion to make further mention of him in the
course of the papers I have to communicate to
1
D 2
30
MEMOIRS or C. WINTER.
#
you. That a large measure of the Spirit with
which he spake may rest upon you, and that you,
with the supply of your measure of the gift of
Christ, may be steadfast, unmoveable, and always
abounding in the work of the Lord, until you cease
to labour and enter into rest, is the prayer of,
My very dear friend,
Yours, affectionately.
LETTER T.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
HAVING, in my last letter, taken the liberty to
give my free thoughts of my ever honoured and
dear friend and father, Mr. Whitefield, by whom,
as an instrument in the hand of the Lord,
I was
brought into newness of life, I would again take up
the thread of my own history.
That God's peo-
ple may review with gratitude what he hath done
for them, their mind is to be the repository of his
goodness. To Israel of old, God said by Moses,
"Thou shalt remember all the way which the
Lord thy God led thee." The tongue cannot
utter, nor the pen relate, if the memory do not re-
tain. I cannot well forget the days of my youth.
The period to which I am now recurring is fresh
upon my mind. By refusing to join in the amuse-
ments to which I had been addicted, and by my
retreat into retirement, I was taken notice of, and
afforded matter for ridicule. It was visible to the
whole family by the alteration of my conduct, and
the sedateness of my deportment, that some change
PART I.]
31
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
}
had taken place. My relation said that going to
Whitefield's would keep me out of harm's way, and
for a little while, he did not much object against it;
but the storm of persecution soon began to arise; in-
deed my afflictions were many and great; but,blessed
be God, they were made supportable by the comforts
which refreshed my soul. Now a guide and compa-
nion was wanting to regulate my zeal, but such a one
was not at hand. The good woman, however, who
brought me under the word, did every thing in her
power to cherish the work she had reason to hope
was began, and I took sweet counsel with her. I soon
became a sermon-hunter, and an admirer of all in
whom I discovered the least disposition for the
gospel. I began to recollect Mr. Romaine, whom
I heard some years before, by straying one Thurs
day afternoon, while on an errand, into St. Dun-
stan's, Fleet-street. I heard he preached at St.
Bartholomew's, Smithfield; and going one Sunday
morning there, I heard Mr. Haweis, by whom I
was first and greatly comforted. O how precious
was the word of the Lord to my soul that day! I
feel something of it as I write, but it is more like
the gathering of wind with a fan, than like the
heavenly breeze which that day blew upon my
soul.-Soon after this, I went to hear Mr. Hitch-
en, who preached at White's-row, Spitalfields, and,
struck with his animating, ingenious, and critical
expositions, delivered on Sabbath day mornings, I
became a constant attendant for twelve months.
To what to attribute it I know not, whether the
novelty of the exercise, my superficial knowledge,
or the magnitude of his gift, and the forcibleness of
his delivery; but it appeared to me no man could
32
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
excel him; hardly any one came up to him. The
eager attention of a numerous auditory met and
fastened upon his lively exertions; and when he
closed his exercise, the people, relieving their
attention, seemed to say one to another, We have
heard great things to-day.
Now it was that I wished to possess a Bible. I
might by saving up the few pence which occa-
sionally came to me, have bought one in time, but
it was much impressed upon my mind, that I must
beg one of Mr. Hitchen. The Bible which lay
in the kitchen was withheld from me. I did not
know that there was a book society, and when I
had knocked at Mr. Hitchen's door, I was much
alarmed at my presumption, and was tempted to
run away. The idea of speaking to a minister,
whom I held in the highest veneration, was for-
midable, and I was surprised at his condescension.
He kindly attended to my request, and I hope I
never shall forget the excellence of his advice,
and the suitableness of his conversation. At the
same time I consulted with him about entering
into the Tabernacle society. He persuaded me to
put aside this design for a while, and to be much
in retirement. He also cautioned me against
forming too favourable an opinion of professors
from their exterior deportment, and I have fre-
quently found the necessity of attending to it.
The impression of our mind is often from God;
I have found it to be so in many instances. By
such an impression I became increasingly desirous
to join the Tabernacle. I soon passed a favoura
ble examination by Mr. Middleton, a truly excel-
lent man of God, and was admitted. At this junc-
PART I.]
33
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ture I begged the acquaintance of a most amiable
youth, who for five years was my familiar friend.
He was poor, but rich in grace. He had been re-
nounced by his mother for his religion. Her pre-
judices were not to be conquered, nor her judg-
ment to be informed; she died at enmity with
him, though he sought in the most becoming man-
ner to conciliate her affection. He died trium-
phantly, of a putrid fever, in which I gave him
all the attendance in my power, and was affected,
but not laid aside by it. He was in the time men-
tioned, but one, though the first of a circle of
young people who met frequently in a poor wo-
man's room, to sing, pray, and read the Scriptures
together. It was a blessed retreat from the cla-
mours of a noisy workshop, where I was exposed
to cruelty and insult, from six in the morning un-
til eight in the evening. The Bible now became
my food. Whatever trials and temptations I was
exposed to at this time, and they were very many, »
I was comforted under them. We used to go to
the house of God in company; I can never forget,
how many seasons of refreshing from the presence
of the Lord we had at the sacred supper; some-
times at St. Alban's church, Wood-street, at half
an hour after six in the morning, winter and sum-
mer; but more generally at the Tabernacle and
Tottenham-court chapel, at the same hour. At
that time my constitution was feeble, and my
clothing insufficient for the winter, but the com-
forts which refreshed my soul, made me superior
to every thing I endured. To give scripture epi-
thets to the places in which these seasons were
enjoyed, they were Beth-els and Peni-els-they
34
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
were as the house of God, wherein I beheld his
glory. While I gave my more constant atten-
dance upon the ministry of my dear and honour-
ed father, Mr. Whitefield, and his stated assis-
tants; I also heard with delight and to profit,
Messrs. Romaine, Jones, Maddan, Venn, &c. &c.
each of them had a message from God to me.
Blessed be his name for those halcyon days. But
the happy period which included them was not
a morning without clouds, nor was my walk free
from imperfections. I did many things which I
ought not to have done. My zeal carried me in-
to many extravagancies, and I sometimes broke
the bounds of duty to hear the word. Whenever
I could hear an evening sermon, or attend a let-
ter-reading-for Mr. Whitefield read letters pub-
licly-it set me above earth; and when I had
heard the conclusion of a sermon, which I now
and then did by trespassing upon the time ap-
pointed for leaving work a few minutes, precipi-
tately climbing the Artillery-ground gates, and
running on the full stretch to the Tabernacle, I
almost envied the congregation, who appeared to
me to be all enjoyment. Though I could seldom
attend preaching, I could on a Wednesday even-
ing reach the class, a detached company of the
society who met together to relate christian expe-
rience; and here also, I often lost my burden, ob-
tained a blessing, and found others as well as
myself felt the briars and thorns, of the wilder-
ness.
The Rev. Mr. Green, an occasional assistant to
Mr. Whitefield, who subsisted by teaching a
school, was hearing some of his scholars read one
PART. I.]
35
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
day in the fourteenth chapter of the first epistle
to the Corinthians: he was led to reflect upon the
mode of prophesying mentioned in that chapter,
and he thought it justified the order observed by
the Quakers. He proposed to a venerable friend
the institution of a meeting in a similar way.
Monday evenings were the times appointed for
holding these meetings. He began as usual, and
after following a short sermon with singing an
hymn, he sat down and gave liberty to any one
who was disposed to speak of the work of grace
upon his heart, or to deliver a short exhortation.
The meeting was crowded; it began late and held
long. I could therefore enjoy my share of it. Se-
veral young men made their appearance on these
occasions, and discovered good natural abilities;
among these I may particularly mention, the Rev.
Mr. Spencer*, the late Rev. Peter Sampson, of
Truro, in Cornwall, and the late Rev. Mr. West,
a very popular preacher in London. These I was
very intimately acquainted with; but there were
others whom I do not mention, whose ministerial
talents were first discovered in this exercise. Ani-
mated with a degree of zeal, I stood up one eve-
ning after many struggles with myself upon the
propricty of the attempt. My appearance was
singular. I stood upon a form, a meagre youth of
*Mr. W. subjoins in a note-Mr. Spencer, by diligence in study
and perseverance in grace, has acquired and sustained the char-
acter of an eminent scholar and able minister. He was in the
curacy of Bradford between twenty and thirty years, and now
resides in the adjacent parish of Wingfield, of which he is the
esteemed rector. Mr. Crouch, vice-president of Edmund-hall,
and several other evangelical clergymen, were educated by
him.
36
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
eighteen, and meanly apparalled. I introduced
myself in the words of the Psalmist, "Come and
hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what
he hath done for my soul." I found much en-
largement, and from that time became one of the
speakers. What I had to say was kindly received.
I now employed part of the Lord's days in visit-
ing the sick; and many companies of young peo-
ple meeting together immediately after the hour
of eight o'clock in the evening, whose business
prevented them from attending the public minis-
try, I was encouraged to exercise my talents among
them, by exhorting and expounding the Scriptures.
Thus my very small intervals from secular em-
ploy were occupied in spiritual services. By this
means I became known pretty largely, and was un-
expectedly brought into a large sphere.
Though thus encouraged, I had no idea of be-
ing disengaged from secular employ. I had form-
ed my own plan of life, little thinking that it was
contrary to the will of God, and that he had a dif-
ferent design in view. By this time my sister had
become a spiritual companion to me, and walked
with me in all the ordinances of the gospel. I
had designed to live with her, and by every means
in my power, to make her life comfortable. We
frequently contemplated the mutual happiness we
should enjoy when I came out of my apprentice-
ship. But her health rapidly declined, she be-
came unable to get her bread, and in a month after
I came out of my time, I had her to bury. This
was a sore affliction to me. Attention to her in
her latter days, interrupted the course 1 have above
described. The tenderest affection subsisted be-
PART I.]
37
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
tween us, and instead of labouring for her, future
subsistence, I had to work out a debt contracted
for her support in months past; and augmented v
by her funeral.
I was frequently solicited to appear more pub-
licly, but recoiled at the idea. It was hinted by
many, that providence did not intend to continue
me in the employ of a water-gilder. Mr. Green
used some arguments to excite my attention to the
ministry, which made me think that the Lord at
some time or other, might employ me in his work,
but I never expected higher preferment than to be
a local preacher.-Mr. Sampson, above-mentioned,
called upon me one day, and used earnest solicita-
tion with me to supply a congregation alternately
with himself and others at Cheshunt, in Hertford-
shire. After some debate upon the motion, I then
consented to submit to the trial of my acceptance.
I was then desired to cast in my labours at Graves-
end, with which request I complied, endeavouring
that my time for business might suffer as little en-
croachment as possible. My constitution was very
weak, and I struggled under a great share of in-
disposition, which God graciously carried me
through. But on the reflection, I am astonished
that I was so supported. My relation continued
very churlish to me, cramped me in my wages, and
made my life very uncomfortable. I continued
with him nine months only, after I was out of my
apprenticeship, and by hard work and hard fare,
was nearly able to say, 'I owe no man any thing
but love.' He came one morning into the shop,
when there was not the least cause to find fault,
and in a violent outrage, in which he used infa-
E
38 -
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
mous language, insisted that I should do no more
work. I have reason to think he did not mean as
he said, but I replied I would take him at his
word, that his usage had worn out my spirits, and
I would cast myself upon God. He burlesqued
the idea of providence, read my destiny to be most
deplorable, and signified I should soon want
bread. His words alarmed my fears; but I was
enabled to counteract fear by the exercise of faith.
1 have since reason to think he had heard of my
preaching, and that his corruptions were roused
by the report. The business itself was injurious
to my nerves. The continual discouragement I
was under, preyed upon my mind; my having ad-
ventured into the ministry, was attended with
much conflict, so that the time under review was
a time of trouble. I pause, and bring the scene
near. I enter very circumstantially into it. I do
not forget that there were secret faults in my con-
duct, which, though only visible to the eye of
Omniscience and my own conscience, must not be
forgotten by me. Indeed they cannot; my soul-
hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled
within me. The tempter had his instruments by
which he wrought. By artless simplicity, I was
exposed to danger, but not overcome so as to bring
Benevolence
reproach upon the cause of God.
Mr. Winter adds-Thus we parted, and I doubt not but his
I
conduct towards me has since filled him with bitter remorse.
knew this from words he afterwards uttered to me, and to which
he would have added more, if I would have suffered the confes-
sion. But God has forgiven the debt of sin against him, and
has thereby set me an example to forgive all his unkindness to-
wards me. At his death, he left me twenty pounds, with an
apology in his will for not leaving me more.
+
PART I. j
39
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
and sympathy for the distresses of others, while I
was distressed myself, hurried me into impru-
dence; but the Lord upheld my soul, and integri-
ty and uprightness preserved me. I was not so
happy yet as to be under the eye and guidance of
one who might watch over me. Intemperate
zeal and imprudence, in many instances discovered
themselves; and I was afraid of spiritual sloth,
and of any thing that was contrary to the life and
power of godliness. I bless God that he afforded
me cause to be thankful, and that, from that peri-
od, his mercy has been like a current, not to be
obstructed. It has run to this moment. Bless the
Lord, O my soul, bless the Lord, my ever dear
friend, to whom this history is addressed. I bless
him on your account. Interested in all the mer-
cies he has conferred upon you.
I remain, ever,
Yours, affectionately, &c.
LETTER VI.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
IN reviewing the history of my life, and address-
ing it to you, I conceive that I am giving glory to
God. My object is, as far as I am the subject of
it, and that is far indeed, to utter the memory of
his great goodness. When the breach between
my relation and myself became entire, I knew not
what to do. The trade I had been brought up to
did not afford many masters; but I was in hope I
might obtain work somewhere, or be directed into
some other line. He who knoweth all things,
ì
}
40
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
knows how unambitious my mind was, how sin-
cerely I was attached to manual labour, and how
conscientiously I intended to engage myself under
another employer. But not knowing what to do,
immediately on my sudden separation from Mr.
Winter, I betook myself to Mr. How, to give vent
to an heart big with sorrow. Mr. How was an ex-
cellent man, and though in trade, at which he
worked hard, of good preaching talents, and some
learning. After labouring with reputation and
success in the ministry for a few years, he was
taken home to enjoy an early reward. He minis-
tered what consolation he could to me.
He was
going to Chatham for the ensuing sabbath, pre-
vailed upon me to bear him company as far as
Gravesend, and advised me to stop there a few
days to divert my distress of mind. While at
Gravesend, the congregation of Chatham sent me
an invitation to preach to them, and desired me
to fix the time for my coming.
my embracing the invitation.
going was fixed, and it being
chose the angel's message to the shepherds, as
proper for the season, and for a stranger to intro-
duce himself with into a new congregation. But
what a situation did I seem to be in! 1 never can
forget the moment I entered the pulpit, the dead-
ness that seized my soul, and the cloud that over-
spread my understanding. I was so shut up that
I did not think it possible any thing spoken could
gain acceptance. I was ashamed to see any body
afterwards, and continued in the pulpit till the
congregation was quite gone, though several loi-
tered about the door. I had various conjectures
Mr. How urged
The day for my
near Christmas, I
Part 1.]
41
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
concerning the treatment I might receive in going
into the house; upon the whole, I concluded that
though humanity might be exercised towards me,
disapprobation of my service must be expressed;
and that I should be forbidden to enter the pulpit
again. But, to my great surprise, I found the
people lingering about the door, anxious to em-
brace an opportunity to express the satisfaction
they received; the dwelling-house, likewise, was
full of friends, all of whom took me by the hand,
gave me their blessing, and said they had been re-
minded of old times; and without consulting me
upon the matter, proceeded to plan me out a round
for preaching for many days; but I opposed the
motion, telling them that I only came into the
country by the advice of my friend Mr. How, to
relax my mind for a few days, and that I must re-
turn to London, to seek after business. They op.
posed my determination, remarking that I was a
young man, free of incumbrance, and quite at li-
berty; that they thought preaching the Gospel
was business sufficient for me, to which I might
attend without being burdensome to the Church.
I spent a few weeks between Gravesend and Can-
terbury, but was under great uneasiness of mind,
and on my return to London, visited the Rev. Mr.
Elliot, with whom I had a prior acquaintance, and
who, as well as Mr. Green, had encouraged me to
embark in the work of the ministry.
I know not whether any one has put forth Mr.
Elliot's life, therefore would devote a few lines
to represent him. He was born in the west of
England, -finished his education at Bennet's Col-
lege, Cambridge. His principal preferment was
*
LA
ง
3
养
​*
E 2
42
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
}
;
a chaplainship at St. George's Hospital, Hyde-
park. He was a profound mathematician, of ve-
ry deep and close thought upon divinity subjects,
a very humble, holy man, who exercised great
grace in deep poverty. Dr. Dodd endeavoured
to raise himself at the expense of this good man's
reputation, and exciting an alarm at a sermon he
preached upon Gal. ii. 21. became the means of
his being turned out of his chaplainship. He
printed the exceptionable sermon under a title
that made it still more exceptionable. He pub-
licly addressed the Doctor in a letter, at the read-
ing of which, I have good reason to say, he faint-
ed. Mr. Elliot, whose propensity to close think-
ing led him to weigh exactly every subject he
took in hand, found no difficulty in leaving the
establishment. He became the pastor of a church
of his own raising, which was well organized,
and assembled at a meeting house in Cannon-
street. He was universally esteemed by chris-
tians of all denominations; and was requested, in
the year 1762, the time of Mr. Whitefield's long
suspension from labour, to become his assistant
at Tottenham-court; but his gifts by no means
suited that congregation, and it dwindled under
him to such a degree, that he could not be con-
tinued. Mr. Watts, bookseller, near Moorfields,
a man of learning and close reasoning, became
one of his church members. In a conference-
meeting, Mr. Watts entered into a very warm
debate with him upon the doctrine of the Trini-
ty; the debate was occasioned by some little
accidental circumstance, which arose in the course
of the conference, and it drove poor Mr. Elliot
PART I.]
43
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
into Sabellianism. By this event he lost his re-
spect and popularity, lived in poverty and ob-
scurity, and died in the pulpit while preaching
to a small congregation, which constantly heard
him in Glass-house-yard, Goswell-street. He once
had a very violent fever which threatened his
life; in the delirium of which he went through
a service, supposed by him public, repeated his
text, and preached his sermon with the strictest
propriety. He once told Mr. How, that he stu-
died the doctrine of election with that intense-
ness, that he knew not whether he came out of
his study upon his head or upon his heels. His
wife was a considerable trial to him. She acquir-
ed good property by the millinary business, but
denied him the comfort of it. He was sometimes
obliged to sell his books for bread; but while
poor himself, he was a friend to the poor. By the
hard measures he latterly met with, he became
a little petulant; but he bore his persecutions
for Christ's sake, and his family trials, with great
temper and composure, and was a great ornament
to his profession. He has left several perform-
ances. Those in favor of his new sentiment I
am a stranger to. Those relating to the pecu-
liar truths of the gospel, are worthy of attention;
he was very harsh in his delivery, close in his
reasoning, and unembellished in his style.
Of Mr. Green, above mentioned, it is to be ob-
served, that he was a fine classical scholar, and
that he also understood the mathematics well.
He said he was a competent master of eight lan-
guages, but he was a very uncouth reader and
speaker. He never could gain a congregation at
44
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Tottenham-court; at Fetter-lane, he met with
attention. The liberty he gave to any to speak,
opened a way for the Antinomians to deliver
their sentiments, with whom he entered into large
and long public disputations. His Monday even-
ing exercises degenerated into formal disputes,
and knowing his strength, he was fond of them.
The Arians took him up, and by one of them he
was one evening so foiled, that he publicly ac-
knowledged he had been wrong all his life in his
notions of the Trinity, notwithstanding he had
published upon the subject. In this state of
mind he continued a week. It produced great
distress of soul, and though he died sound in the
faith, he was so shocked by his temporary recan-
tation of it, that he never after lifted up his head.
The case of these two good men is a caution to
us not to be too confident in our powers. While
I think of them, I think also of the Apostle's ad-
monition, "Let him that thinketh he standeth,
take heed lest he fall." Many good men, design-
ing honestly to defend the doctrine of the Trinity,
err shockingly in their illustrations of it; and give
more advantage to the adversary than they are
aware of, as well as drive their opponents into no-
tions they never would have thought of, had they
been treated with more temper. We are safe by
taking the subject as the Sacred Scripture gives
it, and by avoiding to explain what is inexplica-
ble.
Let us, my dearest friend, adore what we can-
not comprehend, and shield ourselves from error
by the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth.
Rather than puzzle ourselves and our hearers
PART I.
45
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
with matters which are too high for either, let us
be content with things revealed. In my last in-
terview with Mr. Elliot, he said he heard me ad-
vance with acceptance the very same things he
did with disgust. I told him, when a man's sen-
timents are supposed orthodox, people will give
him credit; that the subject, for he mentioned it,
evidently led me to treat of Jesus Christ in his me-
diatorial capacity. I heard him that evening preach
an excellent sermon from Heb. xiii. 5. I hope,
through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, he is
now in glory. That we may there meet him, is the
prayer of,
My very dear friend,
Yours, affectionately, &c.
LETTER VII.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
To them that suffer according to the will of God,
is the instruction, that they should commit the
keeping of their souls to him. May we not under-
stand the Apostle Peter, by a figure of speech, re-
commending the resignation of the whole man to
God? The admonition befits not only the fierce-
ly persecuted, to whom it was first addressed, but
likewise others in every age, and with the rest,
those who are in such a state of preponderation as
to be uncertain which way the balance will turn;
whose path is so intricate that they know not
which way to go: the prospect of whose duty is
so obscured, as that they know not what to do.
1
46
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
My absence from
christian friends,
While I was con-
This was really the case with me, when I return-
ed from my Chatham excursion. I earnestly sought
employ in the business to which I had been brought
up, but could obtain none. I did not on any con-
sideration intend to see Mr. Winter; I very stu-
diously avoided his house and person, nor did I see
him for some months after.
London alarmed many of my
some of whom censured me.
scious to myself, I did not wish to eat the bread
of idleness, my present circumstances were attri
buted to indolence of disposition. This made my
burden the heavier. Mr. Elliot, whom I frequent-
ly called upon, encouraged me to preach; but I
one day told him, such were the surmises of my
friends, that it became necessary I should convince
them they were under a mistake, by turning my
thoughts to service; and I begged him to use his
endeavours to procure me a place. He warmly
remonstrated against such a step, pressed me
with questions respecting my call to preach the
gospel, submitted to my consideration, 1 Cor.
ix. 16. and requested me patiently to wait
for the opening of Providence. He had taken
upon him the superintendency of the congrega-
tion on Portsmouth Common, at their particular
desire, in which he had been made very useful,
by the repeated visits he had made. This con-
gregation had been raised by Mr. Whitefield and
his assistants, but had been long in a state of neg-
lect, or visited very seldom. Mr. Elliot introduc-
ed me to this people, and the Lord was pleased to
bless my efforts among them. I twice repeated
my visit. But whatever pleasure the people gain-
PART 1.]
47
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ed, they were seasons of humiliation to me. I
began to see the importance of the work in a
stronger light than ever; my insufficiency for it
likewise affected me much. I strove to meditate,
but could not; and often went into the pulpit un-
prepared. It must be observed all this time, I
was wholly illiterate. My unsettled state was un-
favourable to improvement, and I had no one to
give me the least instruction. Unfortunately, I
adopted the Hebrew instead of the English gram-
mar, by which my idea of the subject of grammar
was too superficial; and I was a considerable time
before I could understand the doctrine of the
eight parts of speech. I now also entered upon
the Latin and Greek grammar. By reading good
authors, I saw my own defects in their excellen-
cies, and endeavoured to correct them. My po-
verty and want of retirement, were great obstruc-
tions to my progress. The gratuities I received
for my service, merely defrayed my journies. My
clerical friends gave me neither hints nor helps. I
frequently pored over subjects, and left them as I
found them. I had not resolution to ask questions
of those who might have helped me. My modes-
ty has in this been a disadvantage to me, and it
may be, pride has attached itself to modesty. Men
of understanding, and of some literature, have
usually made a part of the congregations I preach-
ed to at my first coming out; and when I have
suspected them to be present, it was a vast embar-
rassment to me. I fell under one mistake, against
which young preachers should be guarded, especi-
ally they who come out under deficiency of know-
ledge, and that was being devoted to letter wri-
48
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
སྭ
ting. How much time have I employed in that
way, which should have been devoted to the pre-
paration for the pulpit! The motive for so doing
was pure, though the thing itself was wrong. I
should have recollected that pulpit exercises and
literary pursuits required my time. I did indeed
recollect, but fainted and sunk under discourage-
ment. I visited too often, and made my visits too
long. One circumstance I cannot omit to take
notice of I sometimes was in a state of doubt
respecting the propriety of the constructions I put
upon texts of Scripture, which I had selected for
my use in the pulpit. I had not met with exposi-
tory helps; when being asked to dine with a re-
spectable tradesman, and going some time before
dinner, I was introduced into a parlour, where was
a large book-case, which contained Dr. Gill's ex-
position. I amused myself by referring to parti-
cular texts I had preached from at different times,
on which I gained no information, but relied on
my own meditation; and in every one I found a
coincidence of thought with the Doctor. This
was a comfort to me.
Whatever deficiency I was under, the Lord con-
veyed a blessing by the use of such a degree of
ability as I possessed. An innovation being made
upon the Calvinistic cause at Sheerness by Mr.
Wesley's people, occasioned the leading people in
that place, who had contented themselves with
reading sermons, rather than countenance men of
inferior talents, to make exertion for immediate
help, while I was spending my time between Can-
terbury and Chatham. I was therefore invited
over in haste. I walked over from Sittingbourn,
PART 1.]
49
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
sence.
on a severe winter's day, and in the evening, ad-
dressed the people from Judges vi. 13. It had an
amazing effect. I became a frequent and an ac-
ceptable visitor, and cannot easily forget the times
of refreshing the Lord vouchsafed us from his pre-
Mr. Shrubsole, who till then had content-
ed himself with being a reader, from that time
became a preacher; and the cause, till then cramp-
ed, became under his ministry very flourishing.
There lived an eminent old saint by the name of
Wadsworth, who had been separated from the so-
ciety by disgust, but from that time became recon-
ciled and re-united; and as the testimony of his
affection to me, when he died, left me half a crown
and his Bible. The first legacy I ever received.
At this period, which was 1766, I was wander-
ing in the parts mentioned already, and waiting
for further intimations of the will of God. I had
frequently heard Mr. Whitefield lament the want
of ministers in America. I knew he had sent
some who were equally deficient in point of learn-
ing with myself, and I concluded from the kind
reception their ministry had met with, my labours,
with the blessing of God, might be acceptable
also. But a difficulty was before me, which was,
how to gain an introduction to Mr. Whitefield.
He was accessible but to few. I knew his con-
nexions were very large; and this may be admit-
ted as a reasonable apology for the caution which
he used in admitting people to him. He would
never be surprised into conversation. You could
not knock at his door and be allowed to enter at
any time. "Who is it?" "What is his business ?"
and such like inquiries, usually preceded admis
F
८
50
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
sion; and if admission were granted, it was thus:
"Tell him to come to-morrow morning at six
o'clock, perhaps five, or immediately after preach-
ing; if he is later, I cannot see him." A person
who went to consult him upon going into the
ministry, might expect to be treated with severity,
if not well recommended, or if he had not some.
thing about him particularly engaging. One man
saying, in answer to his inquiry, that he was a
taylor, was dismissed with, "Go to rag-fair and
buy old clothes." Another, who afterwards was
of the clerical order, but sadly disgraced it, was
admitted to preach in the vestry, one winter's
morning at six o'clock, as a probationer. When a
good domestic came into the study, the question
was, "Well, Betty, what was the text this morn-
ing?" "These that have turned the world up.
side down have come hither also."-" That man
shall come no more here; if God had called him
to preach, he would have furnished him with a
proper text."-A letter well written as to style,
orthography, and decency, would prepossess him
much in favour of a person.
By means of a pious young acquaintance, a na-
tive of Royston, in Hertfordshire, I had been in-
troduced to Mr. Berridge, Vicar of Everton, whose
history is so well known that nothing need be
said of him. He had given me countenance, I
had gained the attention and esteem of many of
his congregation, and he had endeared himself
much to me, by his paternal deportment, and apos-
tolic advice, such as I have found of excellent use
in every stage of my ministry. I knew from the
affection with which Mr. Whitefield always men-
PART I.]
51
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
tioned his name, and the honour in which he held
his services, he must have great influence with
him. I therefore paid a third visit to him, pur-
posely to acquaint him with my views and wishes,
and to beg him to introduce me to Mr. White-
field, that I might by him be placed in some si-
tuation in America. O how kind did this man of
God behave to me upon this occasion!
After having laid before me the many difficul-
ties he judged I must meet with, and having very
seriously exhorted me to pray to God to grant me
direction and submission, he complied with my
request, and sent me back to London with a let-
ter to Mr. Whitefield. He gave me a mild recep-
tion; the interview was short. It was on Wed-
nesday I waited upon him; he said he should ex-
pect me to preach at the Tabernacle on the next
morning at six o'clock, and appointed the time
when I should again come to him. I heard him
in the evening, and felt much when he informed
the congregation, that a stranger recommended by
Ar. Berridge, would preach on the morrow morn-
ing at six o'clock. I had little rest that night,
and prayed rather than studied for the service. A
larger congregation than usual assembled. The
sextoness was astonished when she found I was
going into the pulpit. When I made my appear-
ance, the people were as much struck by seeing
me, for many knew me, as I was by their general
whisper. I endeavoured to speak from Eph. iii.
4. I was so exceedingly agitated that I knew not
what I said. From that morning, however, the
prejudice of my religious friends, under whose
52
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
censure I had lain, was removed, and I found it
a blessing to have Mr. Whitefield's suffrage. This
was in February, 1767, and I was under promise
to pay Portsmouth another visit. Mr. Whitefield
desired me to procure him a testimonium of my-
self from different places, whither I had gone,
which I did, and in my absence, to write him some
account of the dealings of God with me in his
Providence and grace. He said he should have oc-
casion to show it to some friends, and if any thing
should turn out favourable, he would let me know;
accordingly I wrote him some account, and in a
week after was honoured with his first letter, of
which the following is an exact copy:
"DEAR MR. WINTER,
London, January 29, 1767.
"Your letter met with a proper ac-
ceptance. The first thing to be done now is to
get some knowledge of the Latin-the method to
be pursued we can talk of at your return to Lon-
don. Mr. Green would make a suitable master--
no time should be lost-one would hope that the
various humiliations you have met with were in-
tended as preparations for future exaltations.-The
greatest preferment under heaven, is to be an able,
painful, faithful, successful, suffering, cast-out mi-
nister of the New Testament. That this may be
your happy lot, is the hearty prayer of,
Dear Mr. Winter,
Yours, &c. in our common Lord,
G. W."
1
PART I.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
53
This letter exceedingly animated me, and my ex-
pectations began to soar; but by reflection, I was
enabled to check them. I considered that the
best of men are but men; and thought if by Mr.
Whitefield's instrumentality I should be brought
into a desirable situation, trials would be answer-
able to it. At the commencement of my connex-
ion with my honoured friend, and since, I have
found it good, neither to seek nor to expect great
things.
The morning after I returned from Portsmouth,
I waited early upon Mr. Whitefield. He received
me with a mixture of kindness and severity; and
for several days kept me in a state of suspense.
At last he set me upon a little business, and told
me he should expect me to preach two mornings
in the week. He appointed me particular times
when I was to call upon him; when besides send-
ing me upon some errands, of which he always
had a great number, he set me to transcribe some
of his manuscripts. He showed himself much
dissatisfied with my writing and orthography, both
of which certainly stood in need of correction.
He desired me to take a lodging near the chapel,
where he could conveniently send for me; gave
me a little money to defray my expenses, and by
degrees brought me into a capacity to be use-
ful to him. I was very enervated, indeed; my
scene was new; I was filled with fear, and
shocked by the cautious behaviour of Mr. White-
field, for which I can plead an excuse. He had
frequently been imposed upon by people who had
very ungenerously served themselves of him, with-
out being of any service to him. In the latter
F 2
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
51
part of his life he was particularly cautious how
he disposed of his favours; but, notwithstanding,
he was liable to considerable imposition. Soon
after, he proposed my going to Mr. Green's for a
few hours in the day, to be initiated into the La-
1in Grammar; but he interrupted the design by
requiring a close attention to his own business,
and the large demand he made of my pulpit ser
vices; for it pleased God to give my ministry a
very kind acceptance, and I have met with some
instances of its having been useful. A single
quarter of a year closed my school exercise, in
which I am ashamed, but constrained to say I
hardly gained knowledge enough to decline Musa.
It was plain, Mr. Whitefield did not intend to
promote my literary improvement. Indeed, le
said, Latin was of little or no use, and that they
who wish to enter upon it late in life, had better
endeavour to acquire a good knowledge of their
mother-tongue, in which many preachers, while
they aim at Latin, are very deficient. Having
just at this time attended Mr. Wesley's conference,
and having heard him speak to the same effect,
he was confirmed in this sentiment, and discourag-
ed any perseverance. Notwithstanding Mr. White-
field's opinion, thus freely expressed, and his de-
portment to me corresponding with it, my mind.
hankered greatly after some smatterings of Latin
and Greek; partly that the want of it might be
no obstacle in the way of my ordination, and
partly to cut off objections against my ministry
from them who are apt to think it a sine qua non
for a preacher. But I had much temptation to re-
lax my exertion, my memory being very bad, my
PART I.
1.]
55
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
nerves weak, and my genius small. Yet sensible
of the value of a good education, I have never
neglected an effort after a portion of it. Consi-
dering the weakness of my capacity, and that for
many years I had no settled place of abode, nor
any person to assist me; that I have been con-
stantly employed in preaching the word almost
every night in the week to different congrega-
tions, and twice or thrice every sabbath through
the year, I have cause to be thankful for the little
I have acquired. What a story I have got into:
it swells, and I fear will become tedious. If you
had not pressed me to give it you, I would not
have imposed it upon you. One circumstance is
an introduction to another, in the review of which
I am affected with humiliation and thankfulness.
How far you may be gratified, I cannot say. It is
a story that, in the sequel, connects with the Lord's
dealings with you. That he may deal bountifully
with you to the end of your days, as he has in the
beginning of them, is the prayer of,
My very dear friend,
Yours, &c.
LETTER VIII.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
DID it ever strike you, that I am of a timid
turn of mind? I had a great deal more of it in
my youth than I had at the time you first knew
me, or than I now have. As though the late Mr.
Winter were the principal person in the world I
had occasion to fear, I was in perpetual dread of
56
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
him. He was a great enemy to the Gospel, very
keen to observe what was amiss in its professors,
and very high in his religious principles. Some
circumstances in my early connexion with Mr.
Whitefield, had he been permitted to have known
them,would have been remarked with just severity.
When it was reported to him that I preached at
the Tabernacle, he disbelieved it, saying, "White-
field would not let such a fool stand up in his
place;" but finding it true, he said, "he would
suffer a chimney-sweeper to preach to save him-
self." Of all reflections ever cast upon Mr.
Whitefield, this should have been the last, for
self-sparing was no part of his character. He at-
tempted to gratify his curiosity several times by
hearing me, but was disappointed. In coming one
time, he heard Mr. Middleton, who was the most
methodical preacher in the Tabernacle at that
time. He was treating upon the Lord's Supper.
He gained Mr. Winter's attention, who then, for
the first time, thought any thing offered at the
Tabernacle worthy of regard. He came after-
wards with intention to hear Mr. Whitefield sc-
riously, whom he had often heard in ridicule,
and it pleased God to make the word efficacious.
The effect was blessed indeed. His family had
the comfort of it, and it was visible to all who
knew him.
Instantly upon the removal of his prejudices he
sent for me to come to his house, took opportuni-
ty to lament that his deportment had been very
unsuitable to me, assured me he had nothing
against me, and wished me to overlook all that
was wrong. He became a communicant at the
PART I.]
57
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
Tabernacle, and though he afterwards dropped in-
to some of his former life, and was staggered by
the bad conduct of some professors, from the re-
port I had of his dying moments by a good man
not liable to be imposed upon, I hope all ended
well. Though I had frequent intercourse with
him, and a close correspondence, and he went
some of my journies with me, yet I never could be
truly open and familiar with him.
I am afraid to say every thing which might be
brought upon the tapis for three years.-Perhaps
it would be putting the picture of so valuable a
man as Mr. Whitefield was, into too deep a shade,
to say that he was not a fit person for a young man
in humble circumstances, to be connected with.
He was not satisfied with deficient abilities, but
he did not sufficiently encourage the use of the
lamp for their improvement. The attention of a
youth designed for the ministry, was too much di-
verted from the main object, and devoted too
much to objects comparatively trifling.
I was
considered as much the steward of his house, as
his assistant in the ministry. While I was kept
in bay and at anchor, many piloted by him, set
sail, and I at last knew not whether I were to in-
dulge a hope for America or not. My fidelity be-
ing proved, I became one of the family, slept in
the room of my honoured patron, and had the pii-
vilege to sit at his table. I judged I was where I
should be; and was determined never to flinch
from the path of duty, nor intentionally to grieve
the man whom I knew had many burdens upon
him, and for whom I could have laid down my
life. But I was unequal to my sphere, and sunk
58
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
under my burden. It pleased the Lord thrice ia
the year to lay me upon a bed of sickness. In a
letter from Mr. Whitefield to Mr. Adams, dated
October 12, 1767, stands this sentence-" Heaven
is the believer's only resting place. There we
shall not be disturbed; I do not know but Mr.
Winter will get there soon; at present he is very
ill." The faculty who attended me, said my life
was precarious, and advised my being sent into
the country. Their advice opened a way for my
first journey to Bristol, where I was eight months,
preaching and meeting the society every night in
the week, and preaching three times on a sabbath-
day, except now and then, when a minister came
through the city. At my first going, few could
hear me speak; but the Lord strengthened body
and voice together, and attended his word with
his blessing.
On my return, I found Mr. Whitefield had been
busy and successful in getting one and another
ordained for the colonies, but he made no motion
for me; this I thought hard, though I concealed
the feeling of my disappointment. I now and
then signified to Mr. Whitefield, that my inclina-
tion for America was as strong as ever. Impru-
dences in some of the missionaries, and the unbe-
coming manner in which others applied to the
society for propagating the gospel, for admission
into their service, made my application for orders
much more difficult than it would formerly have
been. While on a second visit to Bristol, which
held four months, Mr. Whitefield wrote me a let-
ter, informing me that a Mr. Wright who was a
very principal person with him, had agreed with
PART I.]
59
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
his relations, to go to Georgia, to put the Orphan.
house upon
a new plan, and proposed to me
whether I should like to go with them, there pro-
secute my studies, and be considered as domestic
chaplain. I returned him answer, after making his
motion matter of prayer, that I did not find freedom
to go without ordination. This answer was of the
Lord, for I was afterwards convinced that my going
then and under the circumstances proposed, would
have involved me in many difficulties. When Mr.
Wright embarked for Georgia, I was sent for to Lon-
don; and to other different capacities, in which I
acted, an additional one was to read prayers, and
bury the dead at Tottenham-court chapel; an em-
ployment that I entered upon only to oblige my
most highly esteemed patron; for I knew, besides
other inconveniences, it would subject me to, it
would make the probability of ordination at a
greater distance than ever, if it came to the Bi-
shop's ear. For more than twelve months I per-
formed the office of a curate. Having at seasona-
ble opportunitics continued still to express my
inclination to go to America, Mr. Whitefield one
day asked me, if I should have any objection to
take the charge of a number of negrocs? He in-
formed me at the same time he had received a
letter from some gentlemen *, requesting him to
send them over a proper person for such a charge,
aud observed, that after entering upon it, and
:
*These were the exccutors of Mr. Zububuhler, late rector
of Savannah who by his will had provided for the support of a
minister to instruct his negroes, but enjoining that the person
employed should be a clergyman.
60
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
being recommended home for ordination for the ser-
vice, there was no doubt but I should succeed. This
had great weight with me, and though I thought it a
tedious method, I was in hopes it would answer
a good end at last. I told Mr. Whitefield I would
give myself to his disposal, and hoped by him to
discover the will of God. Several months past
after this, no further notice was taken of the busi-
ness, though letters had passed between him and
the gentlemen upon it. The reason appeared plain
to me: Mr. Whitefield had made me very useful
to himself, could repose confidence in me, and was
unwilling to part with me. He had so delayed
the business, that by the time I had arrived at
Georgia, the gentlemen had given over all thoughts
of my coming. He at last came to a determina-
tion that if I would go, I should go with him, and
when the time of my departure was at hand, I
went out, not knowing whither I went, nor upon
what condition. I only knew that I was bound
for Georgia, and that I was going to teach the
negroes the way of salvation. The necessary pre-
parations for the voyage so engrossed my attention
that I had little time to take a formal leave of my
friends, nor did I want it, but for the sake of a
select few. I had no inclination to preach a farc-
well sermon, but got off as quietly as I could on
Friday, September 2d, 1669, with a party of
friends in a Gravesend boat, to go to our vessel,
laying at Gravesend. Mr. Whitefield came the
next day with a very large party, in coaches and
chaises, and the next day preached two sermons,
one in the morning in the little place called the
Tabernacle, for the use of the church was denied
PART 61
I
1]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
į
him, and in the evening in the Market-place. I
preached in the afternoon. Several of the compa-
ny breakfasted with us on board the vessel, on
Monday morning, previous to the final leave,
which they took immediately after.
By this time I had fully found out dear Mr.
Whitefield's complexion, and indeed long before.
Not doubting but that by Providence I was intro-
duced to him, highly revering his character, and
affectionately loving his person. I was determin-
ed to be like Diogenes, who would rather sustain
the blows of the stick of his master Antisthenes,
than be deprived of the advantage of his school.
The following are some of the promiscuous traits.
of his more private character, and I presume this
is no improper place in which to give them. He
used too much severity to young people, and re-
quired too much from them. He connected cir-
cumstances too humiliating with public services,
in a young man with whom he could take-liberty;
urging that it was necessary as a curb to the va
nity of human nature, and referred to the young
Roman orators, who, after being exalted by ap-
plauses, were sent upon the most trifling errands.
His maxim was, if you love me you will serve me
disinterestedly; hence he settled no certain in-
come, or a very slender one, upon his dependents,
many of whom were sycophants, and while they
professed to serve him, under-handedly served
themselves effectually. Under this defect his
charity in Georgia was materially injured, owing
to the wrong conduct of some who insinuated them-
selves into his favour, by humouring his weakness,
and letting him act and speak without contradiction.
G
62
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
He was impatient of contradiction; but this is a
fault to be charged upon almost all great people. I
could mention some. He was not happy in his wife,
but I fear some, who had not all the religion they
professed, contributed to his infelicity. He did
not intentionally make his wife unhappy. He al-
ways preserved great decency and decorum in his
conduct towards her. Her death set his mind much
at liberty. She certainly did not behave in all
respects as she ought. She could be under no
temptation from his conduct towards the sex, for
he was a very pure man, a strict example of the
chastity he inculcated upon others. No time was
to be wasted; and his expectations generally went
before the ability of his servants to perform his
commands. He was very exact to the time ap-
pointed for his stated meals; a few minutes delay
would be considered a great fault. He was irrita-
ble, but soon appeased. Not patient enough one
day to receive a reason for his being disappointed
under a particular occurrence, he hurt the mind
of one who was studious to please; he discovered
it by the tears it occasioned, and, on reflection, he
himself burst into tears, saying, "I shall live to be
a poor peevish old man, and every body will be
tired of me.” He frequently broke the force of
his passion by saying, " How could you do so? I
would not have served you so." He never com.
manded haughtily, and always took care to ap-
plaud when a person did right. He never indulg-
ed parties at his table; a select few might now
and then breakfast with him, dine with him on a
Sunday, or sup with him on a Wednesday night.
In the latter indulgence he was scrupulously ex-
PART I.]
63
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
L
1
act to break up in time. In the height of a con-
versation I have known him abruptly say, " But
we forget ourselves," and rising from his seat, and
advancing to the door, add, "Come, gentlemen, it
is time for all good folks to be at home." Whether
only by himself, or having but a second, his table
must have been spread elegantly, though it pro-
duced but a loaf and a cheese. He was unjustly
charged with being given to appetite. His table
was never spread with variety. A cow-heel was
his favourite dish, and I have known him cheer-
fully say, "How surprised would the world be, if
they were to peep upon Doctor Squintum, and see
a cow heel only upon his table." He was neat to the
extreme in his person and every thing about him.
*
V
Not a paper must have been out of place, or put
up irregularly. Each part of the furniture must
have been likewise in its place before we retired
to rest. He said he did not think he should die
easy, if he thought his gloves were out of their !
place. There was no rest after four in the morn-
ing, nor sitting up after ten in the evening. He
never made a purchase but he paid the money im-
mediately, for small articles the money was taken
in the hand. He was truly generous, and seldom
denied relief. More was expected from him than
was meet. He was tenacious in his friendship, and
when the transition of Providence moved from
prosperity to adversity, he moved with it to abide
by his friend. He felt sensibly when he was de-
serted, and would remark, "The world and the
church ring changes." Disappointed by many, he
had not sufficient confidence in mankind; and
from hence I believe it was, he dreaded the
F
:
•
L
MEMOIRS OF C. WINter.
J
thought of out-living his usefulness. He often
dined among his friends; usually connected a
comprehensive prayer with his thanksgiving when
the table was dismissed, in which he noticed par-
ticular cases relative to the family; and never pro-
tracted his visit long after dinner. He appeared
often tired of popularity; and said, he almost en-
vied the man who could take his choice of food at
an eating-house, and pass unnoticed. He appre-
hended he should not glorify God in his death by
any remarkable testimony, and was desirous to die
suddenly.
Thus, my dear friend, I have aimed to gather
up the fragments of a character truly excellent,
that nothing may be lost. It is the character of
a man who had his infirmities, but whose excellen-
ies bore a far greater proportion. He knew him-
self, and lived under a measure of self-abhorrence;
but he knew he was the redeemed of the Lord,
and extolled that name by which he was called.
Not to detract, but justly to represent, is my ob-
ject in what I have written concerning him. I
had no claim upon him when he took me into his
house. I was abundantly indebted to him for his
kindness, and his memory will be dear to me
while with my hand I can subscribe myself,
Yours, very affectionately,
In our dear Lord Jesus.
PART I.]
65
KIS OWN ACCOUNT.
LETTER IX.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
By taking notice of the history of the first Me-
thodists, you may perceive they abounded in letter-
writing. I have condemned myself for indulging
correspondence, from conviction I should have
been otherwise employed; but I have felt the con-
solation arising from the receipt of a letter to be
inexpressibly great; and have highly gratified a
friend by the writing of one. Advice is often con-
veyed by correspondence, that proves a guide to
our conduct; and remarks, applied to our own
case, sometimes prevent hasty steps, of which, on
reflection, we might have cause to repent. In my
situation, hitherto described, letters with which I
was favoured from dear Mr. Berridge, were of
great use indeed; an extract I will here insert
from two of them.
CC
Pray frequently, and wait quietly, and the
Lord will make your way plain.-Jesus trains up
all his servants to waiting, and if you are called to
the ministry, he will exercise your soul before-
hand with sharp conflicts. Joseph must be cast
first into a pit by his own brethren, then into a
prison by his master, before he rules the kingdom;
and David must be hunted as a flea upon the
mountains, before he gets the sceptre. How can
you tell what others feel, unless you have felt the
same yourself? How can you sympathize with a
prisoner, unless your own feet have been fast in
the stocks? How can you comfort those who are
Ꮐ ?
66
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
J
፥
cast down, unless you have been often at your
wit's end? Expect nothing but conflicts, day after
day, to humble and prove you, and teach you to
speak a word in season to every one that is weary.
This is indeed the high road to the kingdom
for all, yet a minister's path is not only narrow
and stony like others, but covered also with
bushes and brakes; and if you labour to remove
them by your own hands, they will quickly tear
your flesh, and fill your fingers with thorns. Let
your master remove them at your request; and
remember it is always his work, as it is ever his
delight, to clear our way, and lead us on till sin
and death are trodden down. Undertake nothing
without first seeking direction from the Lord, and
when any thing offers, that is plausible and invit-
ing, beg of God to disappoint you, if it be not ac-
cording to his mind. You cannot safely rely on
your own judgment, after God has told you, ' He
that trusteth in his own heart is a fool.' This ad-
vice relates to all important changes in life. Go
no where, settle no where, tarry no where, with-
out frequent usage of this prayer."
"I find your heart is yet looking towards Ame
rica; this inclines me to think God will some
time send you thither; in the mean while, be
thankful you have a pulpit in England to preach
Jesus Christ in, and health to preach him. Be
not in a hurry to go, lest you go without your
passport, and then you go on a fool's errand.
not wish to be any where but where you are, nor
any thing but what you are. It is want of com-
nunion with God that makes our thoughts run
gadding. Daily beseech the Lord to make your
Do
PART I.]
67
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
way plain, then leave it to him to direct your
steps. Wish not to do good in America next sum-
mer, but to do good in England every day you
continue here."
Oh that I had never swerved from the good advice
of this truly apostolic man! My aim has been to have
my conversation in the world according to it.
I have diverted your attention from the Friend-
ship, Captain Ball, on board of which, Mr. White-
field, Mr. Smith, who filled up Mr. Wright's place,
and myself, were left by the company who had
made the most they could of Mr. Whitefield. I
had nothing to do but to forget my own people-
I had no father's house to forget-and to commit
myself unto the Lord. We spent the former part
of the day in looking over our stores, setting
things in order, and securing then from injury, as
well as we were able. As I dropped into leisure,
I began to reflect upon the steps I had taken, and
the leadings of divine Providence by which I was
induced to take them. They all seemed satisfac-
tory, and though I compared myself to a sparrow
alone upon the house-top, I had a conviction that
I was not alone. The father of my mercies had
been, was then, and, blessed be his holy name, has
been ever since, with me.
Mr. Whitefield began to familiarize himself to
his naval situation, to acquaint himself with the
crew and passengers, and proposed to render them
all the kindness in his power. Had the captain
embraced the former day's wind, we had probably
been favoured with a speedy and prosperous pas-
sage; but by losing that opportunity, we were
greatly retarded. Against wind we went, with the
་
68
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
tide down the Pool, and were several days getting
to the Downs. Now I first began to know what
sea-sickness was, and supposed by my recovering,
when we anchored at the Downs, it was all over,
but as we attempted to advance, I found I was
much mistaken. Here we were wind-bound three
weeks, opposite Deal. Dr. Gibbons came on board
during our stay, to see Mr. Whitefield. His busi-
ness was to ordain one of his pupils to a dissenting
church of ancient standing in that town. The
same day the young gentleman to be ordained,
and the Rev. Mr. Bradbury, of Ramsgate, came on
board, and after many pressing solicitations, pre-
vailed upon Mr. Whitefield, contrary to his inten-
tion, to come on shore to attend the ordination,
and preach in the evening. This was very agree-
able to my inclination, and I hope I shall never
forget the solemnities of that day. The wind
being settled against us, and the captain giving us
leave, upon Mr. Bradbury's repeated and urgent
request, Mr. Whitefield was prevailed upon to go
to Ramsgate. He preached there twice, and was
to have staid over the Sabbath-day, but not being
able to overcome the uneasiness of his spirits, oc-
casioned by a fear that we might stay too long, we
took a chaise, and returned to our vessel, on board
which we had not been many hours, before the
captain weighed anchor, and in the distant pros-
pect of a favourable gale, attempted to sail; but
it only proved a conflict with the wind, to my no
small mortification, for I was rendered incapable of
every thing by the sea sickness.
After a second obstinate attempt, in which we
were beating about Dungeness for a whole week
PART I.]
69
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
without getting three leagues, and in which
time I was not able to hold up my head, Provi-
dence was gracious, the wind was propitious, and
we soon lost sight of land. It was a long while
before I recovered; I plyed my book, and by the
care that jointly fell upon me and my fellow
passenger, Mr. Smith, who was Mr. Whitefield's
companion and attendant to the last, I had a di-
versity of exercise. Mr. Whitefield spent his
time in largely reading the History of England,
composing sermons, writing letters, &c. and some-
times discovered such remarkable lowness and
languor, as proved him not very fit to encounter
the difficulties of a voyage to sea.
He had great
civilities and respect shown him, and was as
constant in the discharge of the duties of his func-
tion as the weather would admit. Some circum-
stances, however, turned up to mar our happiness,
particularly two bad men we had on board, one
of whom I believe fled from England to save
his life, the other by his conduct in Georgia, pro-
ved that he made no scruple to hazard his.
After the usual difficulties which attend the
seas, we came near Charleston bar, and by rea-
son of the lightness of our vessel, for it was de-
ficient in ballast, we were detained in what is
oalled Five-fathom-hole, a situation not very a-
greeable. When we got over the bar we were
released from our ship by a pilot boat, on the
30th of November, and on that evening, by the
good hand of our God upon us, we set our feet
upon the American shore. My endeavour through-
out the whole of the passage was to give myself
up to the Lord, and to keep from such an elate-
70
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTÈR.
ment of mind, as imaginary painted prospects of
ten occasion, to the no small after disappoint-
ment. In the course of conversation, Mr. White-
field had dropped such a hint, as convinced me
I might look rather for great crosses than great
honours. He told me, what he had concealed
while on the English shore, that if I had as ma-
ny to preach to as his bed-cabin would hold, I
might think myself well off, and that I might
expect to be whipped off the plantation when
I had done.
My reception at Charleston was kind and hos-
pitable; I supposed it to have been because I was
Mr. Whitefield's friend. Mr. Whitefield's preach-
ing in the cabin at sea had great energy in it,
but it was with additional pleasure I once more
heard him in a large congregation on the Sah-
bath-day. I was particularly affected at the
Lord's table, where a considerable number of de-
vout negroes were present. It was an emblem
of heaven indeed, and afforded me encouragement
to hope I should have the honour of gathering
some from among the black tribes into the visi-
ble church, who, being washed from their sins,
should walk with Jesus in white.
We staid but ten days in Charleston. Curi-
osity was excited in many to know who and
what I was. When known, it was desired that
I would give a lecture to a serious company in
a large school-room. I complied, and the word
was kindly received, and if we had not left
Charleston on the Sabbath afternoon, I was to
have preached again. We had a very pleasant
passage through the Sounds, and frequently went
PART 1.
1.]
71
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
on shore and regaled ourselves in the woods.
The simplicity of the negroes who rowed us was
very diverting, whose weariness and fatigue ser-
ved them for a song. I was much affected by it.
We stopped at a plantation called Port-royal, where
we were most kindly refreshed and entertained,
and safely arrived at Savannah on the evening of
December the fourteenth.
Mr. Whitefield was cheerful and easy; he seem-
ed to have lost a weight of care. A great deal
of his usually devotional frame connected with
his cheerfulness. It surely became me, who was
a stranger in a strange land, to be devotional,
and to give myself wholly unto prayer. I bless
the Lord I had no fear; I had some faith; and
faithful was he who had called me, and whose
exceeding great and precious promises were all
mine own. Let others be encouraged by me to
put their trust in the Lord; whoso trusteth in
him shall never be confounded. You, with me,
my dear friend, have reason to speak good of his
name. O magnify the Lord with me, and let us
exalt his name together!
1 am,
Yours, very affectionately, &c.
LETTER X.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
CONTINUALLY under the divine protection we
may enjoy perfect peace, and being devoted to the
will of God, he will take possession of the mind
72
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
and keep it. What is now the matter of observa-
tion, was the matter of experience, when sitting
for a little while alone in the canoe, where I was
desired to remain, at the bottom of Savannah-bluff,
the guardian of our property, while Messrs. White-
field, Wright, and Smith, ascended to the town.
It was dark before I was disengaged and escorted
to Mr. Habersham's house, where Mr. Whitefield
had preceded me. Mr. Habersham met me at the
door, embraced me in his arms, saying, "I will be
your friend, if nobody else will." It being hist
first salute, I supposed it was in consequence of
something previously said by the company, and
by the tenor of the conversation which went for-
ward, I understood that I was but an unexpected
guest. Mr. Habersham clapping me upon the knee,
repeated, "I will be your friend, if nobody else will;
I will stand by you: you shall instruct my negroes,
whoever else refuses you." This brought to my
recollection instantly what Mr. Whitefield said on
board ship, viz. that I might be thankful if I
had as many to preach to as his bed-cabin would
hold, and must not wonder, if for attempting to
instruct the negroes, I were whipped off the plan-
tation." However, most of Mr. Zububuhler's ex-
ecutor's, the gentlemen into whose service I was
entering, saw me, and all except two, behaved to
me in a very respectful manner. The first night
I lodged in Mr. Habersham's house. The next
day I was fixed at a Mr. Bolton's, who accommo-
dated strangers with lodgings. The room appoint-
ed for me had no fire-place in it, and the weather
becoming very cold, I was put to much inconve-
nience: but I was determined I would not make
ミ
​*
EART I.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
73
my company cheap, whatever I might suffer; and
that whatever reserve might be in my conduct, it
should be entirely with a view to the glory of
God. It was well in the end I adopted and main-
tained this resolution. Previous to my settlement,
I spent some days with Mr. Whitefield at the
Orphan house, and by the time I returned to Sa-
vannah, the report of my design, in coming into
the province, was noised abroad.-Some of the more
sensible negroes facetiously said they were too
wicked to be made good now. A few had their
expectations raised by my coming, and seemed
pleased with my errand. The white people in ge-
neral conceived that I came there because I could
not live in England, and I scarcely stirred out
without hearing one and another say, with the
accent of contempt, "There goes the negro-
parson."
Perceiving that Mr. Bolton, at whose house my
residence was fixed, was a serious man, I told him
I longed to begin my mission in some way. I of-
fered to be his chaplain, and asked him if he
would allow me to open a public exposition in his
house. He generously consented, and notice
being given of my design, numbers both of white
and black came, and I opened with Rom. i. 15.
"I am ready to preach the gospel to you." The
word was well received by the serious part of the
audience, and perhaps would have been by the
others, if I had not particularly discovered myself
attached to the more sensible negroes, and given
them to understand they were the subjects of my
ministry. I continued to preach in Mr. Bolton's
house, to white and black, all the time I staid in
H
74
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
!
Savannah, once or twice a week, as it was most con-
venient to me, and on the Sabbath-day evenings.
This gave great offence, and the Rev. Mr. Zubly,
the Presbyterian minister, did not a little oppose
it. I applied for the use of the old Lutheran
church which stood unoccupied, and offered any
moderate rent the proprietors should require for
the use of it, but it was refused merely because I
preached to, and aimed at instructing the negroes.
All were up in arms against me; many threat-
ened me if I presumed to come into their planta-
tion. A motion was made in the council to con-
sider me as a nuisance to the province, and as such
to silence me; but they could not carry the mo-
tion. However, time and circumspection retrieved
my reputation in some degree. The house I
lodged in abounded with boarders, particularly
at the sitting of the assembly. I generally endea-
voured to be affable, but not forward; conversant,
but not loquacious; short in my sittings after meals,
and constant in my study. I was generally in-
dulged with much liberty in family prayer, morn-
ings and evenings, and frequently dropped a short
pertinent hint from one or a few verses out of the
portion I read. This gained attention, and by
degrees I acquired credit, being mostly reproach-
ed by persons who knew least of me.
The con-
versation of which I was the subject, usually con-
cluded to this effect: "It is a pity he thinks of
being employed in a work that will bring him so
little credit, while he has a capacity to be an ac-
ceptable minister to the white people, where one
is wanting."
*
It may appear that this representation of myself
PART I.]
75
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
savours of pride, but I can appeal to Him who
alone knoweth the heart, that I only mention it to
his praise. If I review any part of my outward
conduct with satisfaction, I review the defects of
all my duties before God with shame. However
I might satisfy others, I was dissatisfied enough
with myself. Strict morality will not compensate
the want of spirituality, and of this I found my
self deficient,—may not the deficiency be laid to
my charge!
It was not long before I was introduced to my
immediate charge, that is, the negroes upon the
late Rev. Mr. Zububuhler's plantation, among
whom I was to reside, as soon as the house was
put in proper condition for my residence. The
greatest number of these negroes were fresh pur-
chased. They had conceived some kind of idea
concerning me, but could not distinguish between
their minister and their owner; therefore, when
I was first introduced among them, they came up
in a body, and in their way, showed me the great-
est mark of their respect; at the same time they
made very heavy complaints that they were se-
verely beaten, overburdened with work, kept very
short of food, and that they and their children
were very bare of clothes. They said, if I would
be a good master, they would be good negroes.
I gave them to understand that I had no right in
them, that I should be their sincere friend and
minister, and would do every thing in my power to
make them happy.
The following Lord's day, I went up for the
first time to introduce divine worship among
them; but it is impossible to describe the scene,
76
MEMOIKS OF C. WINTER.
nor can any person, a stranger to it, conceive of
it. Mr. Bolton, my host, bore me company to give
me countenance, and to assist me to sing. Two
or three overseers from the neighbouring planta-
tions, with the person in the same capacity on the
spot, men of a similar cast with the Smithfield
drovers, were all the white people I had present.
Some negroes from the neighbouring plantations
came, and I opened with as plain an exhortation
as I possibly could, but felt it was like shooting
darts against a stone wall. I prayed, read the les-
sons for the day, and used a very small part of
the liturgy, namely, the confession, the Lord's
prayer, and the creed, but the greatest part of my
poor congregation were either asleep, or making
some of their figures upon the wainscot, or play-
ing with their fingers, or eating potatoes, or talk-
ing with each other. This was very discouraging,
but I thought I must get through it as well as I
could. My intended plan was, if I had settled
with them, to have attempted to make them ration-
al, in order to make them capable of understanding
my addresses, and to have began with them as with
children, teaching them the alphabet. I hoped
to have succeeded; and to carry my point, espe-
cially with the children, and that I might expe
dite the work, I intended to have procured ne-
groes, by qualifying of whom, I might have been
assisted in promoting general instruction. But
knowing I must come home for ordination, and
my house not being ready for me, I could only
design the plan without putting it forward till
after my return,
PART I.]
77
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
There were several in Savannah, whom I had
learnt to read a little, and on three plantations
beside my own, I taught Dr. Watts' first câte-
chism and psalmody with some degree of success.
My black congregations on two of the plantations,
(Mr. Jonathan Briand, being a dissenter from
the episcopal church, objected to the use of a
form of prayer,) could with a degree of readiness
repeat with me the Lord's prayer, the creed, and
the magnificat.
Once a week I preached to a small congrega-
tion, about twelve miles from Savannah; and
on my own plantation I was soon joined by ten
or twelve white people, to whom I accommoda-
ted my discourse, after I had done with the ne-
groes. But so strong were the prejudices of the
people in general against me, for being what they
called a negro-parson, that I believe if I had
been an angel of light, I should not have been
esteemed*.
Upon my first coming into the province, I was
* What a view is here incidentally given us of the degraded
and despised state of this class of our fellow-creatures, if pre-
judice and pride will forsooth allow us to call them so. Torn
from their native country-oppressed by merciless exactions—
treated like beasts that perish-fed and valued only for the pur-
poses of labour and drudgery-a man turned into ridicule and V
scorn for wishing to teach them the Gospel-their possessors
afraid lest one ray of light should enter their minds, and make
them feel they were men!—Who can but lament that our coun-
try should so long have "Traded in the persons of men."
Who can but rejoice that the voice of justice and humanity was
at last heard-who can but be grateful to those who " Through
evil and good report" persevered till their discouraged efforts
were crowned with success?
H 2
78
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
.
7
!
~
"
informed it would prove to my advantage, if I
could be on good terms with Mr. Frink, the rec-
tor of Savannah, and I was desired to seek inti-
macy with him, though he should treat me rough-
ly, and even repulse me.
1 therefore paid him the compliment of asking
his permission to speak publicly to the negroes
in town; he gave it in a faint manner; and find-
ing that a recommendatory letter from him to
the Bishop would be requisite for my obtaining
ordination, I sought such an acquaintance with
him as my friends judged necessary. On New-
year's Day, I sent him a very neatly bound volume.
of Mr. Hawies's sermons, for a New-year's gift,
with a letter, intimating that my sentiments
might be gathered from the work, and that it con-
tained a just plan of the doctrines I intended to
preach. He received them politely, gave me ac-
cess to him, engaged me to bury the dead for
him when he was indisposed, and I believe would
have been glad to have served me, if previous to
my embarkation from England, he had not laid
the foundation of my disappointment, as will ap
pear in the sequel.
I visited the Orphan-house as often as possible,
and was in perfect love and harmony with the fa-
mily. Death made a sad inroad among them in a
very little time; but the affliction was completed
by the death of Mr. Whitefield. He had left
Georgia to go on his northern tour, the latter end of
April; and while his return was anticipated, and sup-
posed to be near, his removal was announced. It
was opened to me by Mr. Habersham, who was
much affected with it. It may be supposed I
PART I.]
79
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
could not be insensible. As soon as I heard it, I
retreated to pray, and pour out my soul to God. I
can truly say, the cause of God at large lay near
my heart, and I had a persuasion that the work
over which he had presided would not die with him.
In his own mind, he had fully settled me; his in-
terview with the trustees of Mr. Zububuhler, had
led to some remarks respecting the encouragement
of the laity in the service of the Church, which
he supposed would produce eflect. He made me
feel, by saying, when we parted, “Now I cast you
off, sink or swim." Though his conversation after-
wards was to me a conviction, he would have been
glad to have had me again in his boat. His temper
had been very placid ever since he left England: ·
at the Orphan house he seemed quite in his ele-
ment. He conversed freely upon the future dis-
posal of it. I told him I thought he should re-
sign it to the government of the province, giving
it as my reason, that though Lady Huntingdon
should have it in case of his death, she would not
be able to preserve the life of religion in it, as he
supposed. I observed that the work of God usu-
ally goes on in a way contrary to the order pre-
scribed by man. He had taken such steps as cer-
tainly raised the expectation of the governor and
council. They had reason to think it would be
an institution under their direction.
He was
much too sanguine in lis hopes of what was to
arise from it.
1 continued in one steady track, desirous to be
fully qualified for my office, and vigorously to en-
ter upon it in its full extent, which I could not,
without episcopal ordination. I indulged the idea
80
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
7
of a speedy return to England, and consulted Mr.
Habersham upon the expediency of it. He, and
all with whom he consulted upon the subject,
saw it in the same light. For what end I was
permitted to go to America, and why prevented
from settling there, is among the secrets of the
Almighty. He directs our ways, and orders our
steps. It is not for us to demand the reason of
his conduct, but to submit to his will. May we
ever restrain improper inquiries, and submissively
yield ourselves up to him, as instruments to be
used or to be neglected as he thinks good. I re-
joice that your feet are set in such a large place,
and that you have such a spacious field to labour
in. That you may bring forth an abundance of
fruit unto God, is the prayer of,
My very dear friend,
Yours, &c.
LETTER XI.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
You have no conception of the effect of Mr.
Whitefield's death upon the inhabitants of the
province of Georgia. All the black cloth in the
stores was bought up; the pulpit and desks of the
church, the branches, the organ loft, the pews of
the governor and council, were covered with black.
The governor and council, in deep mourning, con-
vened at the state-house, and went in procession
to church, and were received by the organ play-
ing a funeral dirge. Two funeral sermons were
་
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4
PART. I.]
81
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
preached, one by Mr. Ellington, which I was de-
sired to compose; the other was preached by Mr.
Zubly. All the respect showed to his memory at
his death, kept my sensibility alive. Though I
was now a stranger in a strange land, I had my
mercies; I gained the esteem of many who wish-
ed to see me in orders. I perceived I was in the
land of mortality. Many, by the stroke of death,
fell on my right hand and on my left; I, myself,
and one of the passengers who came over with
us, fell sick at the same time. Mine was but a
slight sickness, his terminated in death, and an
awful death it was; it discovered him to be a bad
man in every respect: and what made it the more
affecting, his wife and three children arrived from
England just time enough to see his corpse before
it was put into the grave. To meet her at the
vessel, and to open to her the circumstance of his
death, as well as to bury him, was the province
assigned me.
Though I saw no sign of longevity either in
natives or foreigners, my heart was set upon doing
the best I could for the poor negroes, so that I
gave no hint in any of my letters, of the badness
of the climate for an English constitution. Ra-
ther I laboured hard to get a dear friend to par-
take with me in the comforts and crosses of my
situation. I had settled it in my own mind in sub-
mission to the will of God, that I would, being -
put into a capacity for usefulness, live and die in
Georgia, a devoted servant of servants. When
the twelve months of my residence were nearly
expired, it was agreed upon by Mr. Zubububler's
executors, that I should return home to the Bi-
L
82
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
T
shop for orders; and it was judged the more ne-
cessary at that time, as there was a strong suspi-
cion of a Spanish war breaking out, which would
make the passage to England to be attended with
hazard and difficulty.
At a meeting of the trustees upon the occasion.
of my coming home, they wrote to the different
persons hereafter named, in the order and manner
following:
The Executors of the Rev. Mr. Zububuhler's Letter
to Governor Wright.
" MAY IT PLEASE YOUR EXCELLENCY,
"WE, the subscribers, executors and trustees of
the last will and testament of the late Rev. Mr. Zu-
bubuhler, having, agreeable to the said will, employ-
ed Mr. Cornelius Winter as a catechist to instruct the
negroes on the plantation of the deceased, for a year
past, and he having given us entire satisfaction, in
the discharge of his duty, and behaved irreproach-
ably in all respects in his religious and moral cha-
racter, beg leave to recommend him to your Excel-
lency as a person, in our opinion, properly qualifi-
ed to receive holy orders; and therefore we re-
quest your Excellency will be pleased to recom-
mend him to the Lord Bishop of London, for or
dination, that he may thereby be enabled fully to
comply with the intention of the testator, by
performing the ministerial offices required by his
will. We are, with great respect,
"Your Excellency's most obedient servants,
"FRANCIS HARRIS,
"JAMES READ,
"JOHN SMITH,
"JOSEPH CLAY,
“ NOBLE WILLIÁM JONES.
“Savannah, Georgia, Nov. 22, 1770."
PART I.]
83
HIS OWN ACCOunt.
The Executors of the late Rev. Bartholomew Zubu-
buhler, to the Rev. Samuel Frink.
"REVEREND SIR,
"As we find it necessary, in compliance with
the will of the late Rev. Mr. Zububuhler, your
worthy predecessor, to have a person properly
qualified to perform ministerial offices, and instruct
the negroes on the deceased's plantation, in the
principles of the christian religion, as established
by law in the church of England; and as we
have employed Mr. Cornelius Winter as a cate-
chist for a year past on the said plantation, and
have had full proof of his abilitics and fidelity,
in daily discharging his duty; and as we also
suppose you cannot be unacquainted with his re-
ligious and moral character, which we apprehend
has been irreproachable, we can make no doubt,
reverend sir, but you will readily join us in recom-
mending Mr. Winter to the Lord Bishop of Lon-
don, for holy orders, by which he will be enabled
fully to comply with the intention of the testa-
tor's will.
"We are, reverend sir,
"Your bumble servants, &c.
"Savannah, Nov. 22, 1770."
His Excellency the Governor, and Mr. Frink
the rector, received me very politely upon the
occasion, and assured me they would write in my
behalf to the Bishop of London; accordingly
they both wrote by me, but I was a stranger to
the contents of their letters. To strengthen their
84
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
testimonial, and prevent every obstacle, President
Habersham wrote to the Rev. Mr. Broughton,
rector of Allhallows, Lombard-street, and secre-
tary to the society for propagation of the gospel
in foreign parts, as follows, in hopes, if necessary,
that he would show it to the Bishop:
"REVEREND SIR,
"UPWARDS of thirty-three years ago, when you
were minister of the church in the Tower of Lon-
don, I was honoured with your acquaintance,
and, as I suppose you have not forgotten me, I
shall make no further apology for troubling you
with this. The worthy rector of this parish, the
Rev. Mr. Bartholomew Zububuhler, deceased,
having, by will, left great part of his estate in
trust, for the support of a person properly quali
fied to instruct his negroes, on his plantation in
particular, and others occasionally, in the prin-
ciples of the christian religion as established in
the church of England; and the bearer, Mr. Cor-
nelius Winter, having been recommended to the
trustees as a serious and judicious person, and
every way fit to execute the pious intention of
the deceased, they have for a year past employed
him in this service, in which he hath given them
entire satisfaction, having conducted himself in
the difficult undertaking with great prudence, as-
siduity, and discretion; not only with respect.
to the people under his charge, but wherever he
has had an opportunity of giving a word of ad-
vice to the poor blacks on other plantations; and
I thank God he has found some persons of con-
siderable property, who have gladly opened their
PART I.]
85
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
houses to him, thankfully accepted and counte-
nanced his services, by attending themselves on
the very sensible and affectionate exhortations he
has given their numerous slaves.
"It is to me unaccountable that any people
calling themselves Christians, should have any
objection against having their servants instructed,
unless it is their inattention to, and ignorance of
the eternal importance of the christian revelation.
But it is a melancholy truth that there are too
many such; and for this reason, as well as many
others that might be mentioned, it is necessary
that the person employed in this service should
be ordained; because, however little regard some
people pay to the pious instructions of a minister,
there are, I hope, but few, if any, so abandoned
as not to show some respect to his sacred charac-
ter, especially if his life and conversation is con-
formable thereto.
"Mr. Winter I understand has long been de-
sirous of being useful in the church, and has
taken no small pains to qualify himself for that
purpose; but finds he cannot be so useful in his
present contracted situation, as he wishes to be.
And as the executors and trustees of the late Mr.
Zububuhler's will think, by the tenor of it, aud
I am of their opinion, that the person who should
instruct his negroes should be a minister of the
church of England, and consequently qualified
to baptize, and perform other holy offices; they
have requested his Excellency the Governor, to
recommend him to the Lord Bishop of London
for holy orders; and I am informed they have
desired the same of our present rector, the Rev.
I
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་ ནོརྒྱུུ
86
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Samuel Frink, and both of them I believe will
readily do it. He is sufficiently provided for, and
will want no further assistance, being by the exe-
cutors allowed 1251. per annum, besides his board,
a servant, &c.
"I have had opportunity of kn owing him in
his private conduct, and to think him to be a truly
serious man; and believe he has engaged in in-
structing these much neglected and benighted
people with an honest view to promote their eter-
nal welfare, and the glory of God, by bringing
them from a real state of heathenism to the light
of the glorious gospel of the Son of God. I have
long wished that some good man would under-
take this truly charitable, though arduous work,
and must say, that I think Mr. Winter peculiarly
qualified for it. He appears to be very conde-
scending and patient, is of a remarkable humble
and quiet disposition, and from my own know-
ledge, will stoop to the barren, because too gene-
rally unimproved, capacities of these poor crea-
tures; I say unimproved capacities, as some igno-
rant people would foolishly insinuate that they
are scarcely reasonable beings, and not capable of
being instructed in the divine truths of christian-
ity, an absurdity too obvious to deserve any refu-
tation; and I am ashamed to have occasion to
make this observation, as daily experience evinces.
that there are many ingenious mechanics among
them; and as far as they have had opportunity
of being instructed, have discovered as good abili-
ties as usually are found among people of our
own colour; but making them good tradesmen is
immediately profitable, and the reward of making
PART 1.]
87
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
them good christians is at a distance. I have
been in many of the northern provinces, and have
with great pleasure seen many serious negroes,
and in the neighbouring province of South Caro-
lina, I have known several who have honoured the
gospel, perhaps not less than their owners; and
we have had some, though but few, here who are
baptized and admitted to other holy ordinances,
whose behaviour is the most irreproachable.-I
have heard Mr. Winter speak to a considerable
number of negroes in this town, as well as at my
own plantation, where I have two hundred men,
women, and children, with great judgment, and
christian affection; and have seen such apparent
marks of decency and attention among them, that
had you, reverend sir, been present, I am sure you
could not help bearing a part in their sensibility,
and of thanking God for so useful a man; and if
I am a judge, I think he has real abilities, and
such as would not be despised in any congre-
gation.
"I hope therefore to have the satisfaction of
seeing him return to us in holy orders, by which
his sphere of usefulness will be more enlarged;
and as I before observed, he will by that means
be more acceptable among the white people, he
will be much more so among the blacks, who are
in this particular, influenced by example. For
my part, I am not ashamed to say, I have done,
and will do all in my power to forward and pro-
mote this laudable design; and am happy in the
prospect of one day seeing a congregated church
of Africans rejoicing in their being brought from
a land of darkness, and of being made partakers
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
"
88
of our common salvation, to which both bond and
free are equally entitled, and as I am persuaded,
reverend sir, that you will rejoice in having an
opportunity to promote the welfare of the mean-
est of our fellow beings, I take the liberty of re-
commending the deplorable state of these poor
neglected negroes to your friendship, as well as
the bearer, who is desirous of serving them;
not doubting but he will be countenanced by
the reverend fathers of our church, and duly
qualified, to proceed in his good undertaking,
which had been so warmly and affectionately re-
commended by them in their annual sermons
preached before the worthy society for the propa-
gation of the gospel; and I am so well convinced
of the uprightness of Mr. Winter's intention, that
I am persuaded he will neither dishonour you,
nor, reverend and dear sir,
“ Your affectionate friend, and servant,
JAMES HABERSHAM.
"Savannah, Georgia, Dec. 1, 1770."
Another letter equally strong, to the same pur-
port, was written to John Knox, Esq. Secretary to
Lord Hillsborough,.and a fourth, as follows, to the
Bishop of London:
"MY LORD,
"THE Rev. Bartholomew Zububuhler, deceased,
the late worthy rector of this parish, having by
his will left the chief part of his estate in trust to
us, his trustees and executors, for pious uses, and
in particular for the support of a person properly
PART 1.]
89
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
qualified to instruct his negroes on his plantation,
in the principles of the christian religion, as
by law established in the church of England,
we have for about a year past, employed the
bearer, Mr. Cornelius Winter, in this service;
which, as far as his present limited capacity per-
mitted, he hath faithfully executed with prudence
and discretion. But as it appears by the general
design of the deceased, that the testator intended
such a person should be a minister, and thereby
qualified to baptize and perform all other holy of
fices, agreeable to the rubric of the church of
England; and the bearer having manifested a
hearty disposition to propagate the gospel among
these poor ignorant people in particular, and we
can from our own knowledge confide in him to
execute this trust, we humbly beg leave to recom-
mend him to your lordship for holy orders, not
doubting but he will give your lordship and us
full satisfaction by his diligence and fidelity in
executing the (not to every one,) acceptable ser-
vice.
"Mr. Winter, who we presume does not want
abilities, we understand has been long desirous of
devoting his service to promote the interests of re-
ligion, as well among bond as free, in the esta-
blished church, and to encourage him to proceed
in so benevolent and charitable a work, we sup-
pose we have sufficiently provided for him, hav-
ing had hitherto a stipend of 1251. sterling, per
annum, besides his board, a servant, and other
conveniences, which we shall continue to him.
We have taken the liberty to request his Excel-
lency the Governor, as also our present rector, the
E
Y
1
2
I 2
90
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
Rev. Samuel Frink, to recommend Mr. Winter to
your lordship for ordination. The latter, in par-
ticular, has been acquainted with his behaviour
here, which we believe has been unblameable,
and we make no doubt but his future conduct will
recommend him to your lordship's countenance
and protection.
"That your lordship may long live to promote
the interest of our excellent church, especially
in this province, at present so deplorably destitute
of ministers of God's holy word and sacraments,
and, after a life full of days, that you may receive
your reward from the great Shepherd of souls, is
the hearty prayer of,
"Your lordship's dutiful and
"most obedient servants, &c.
"Savannah, in Georgia, Nov. 22, 1770."
Thus laden with recommendations, I prepar-
ed to embark for England. I cannot say I was
frothed with expectation of success, having been
informed by a busy man, from whom I sought no
information, though he often gave it, that Mr.
Frink had written largely about me to the society
for propagating the gospel, through the medium
of which all business pertaining to religion was
at that time usually transacted in America. After
visiting the different places, and people who par-
took of my labours, and with whom it was suppo-
sed my intimacy was to be continued, I embark-
ed on board the Georgia packet, Captain Ander-
son, about the middle of December. Several of
the negroes seemed much affected at my leaving
them, as did also the white people, particularly
1
PART I.]
91
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
the family of Mr. Bolton, with whom I lodged;
and at parting I found, notwithstanding all the
opposition I had met with, Georgia had its attrac-
tions. The passengers came on board the packet
on the Friday, and we set sail on the Lord's day.
I offered to be chaplain to the packet; the offer
was accepted, but being seized with sea-sickness,
it was some days before I could engage in devo-
tional exercises. As soon as it was in my power,
I kept up the exercise of morning and evening
prayer as regularly as the weather would admit,
and preached or read a sermon on the Lord's
day.
For a considerable time I was a restraint upon
the company. Many efforts were used to break
it; and when the poor captain had disguised him-
self in liquor, he discovered a manifest prejudice
against me. To prevent mischief, I retreated to
my cabin on the evening of the 26th of Decem-
ber, when the weather became very foul, and the
night tremendous. I do not pretend to give an
exact marine description of it, neither do I men-
tion it to give this narrative great consequence.
Every sailor expected it would have been a fatal
night. The captain said he never was in such
a storm before; and he attributed our salvation
to the soundness and good condition of the ves-
sel. That which added to our distress was, there
were very few working hands on board. Some
had deserted her at Savannah, others had died
there, and it was with difficulty any fresh ones
could be engaged in the service, owing to the
rumour of a Spanish war having broken out. Not
only was the vessel three men short of her usual
92
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
complement, but some of the crew fell sick after
we had sailed, of which number was the mate.
Knowing that it was imprudent to be alarmed
upon every occasion, I went to bed about ten
o'clock, as did the rest of the passengers, and the
captain, who was drunk. My cabin being in the
gangway, a situation I chose for the advantage
of air, and more convenient retirement, I was
awakened by the sea breaking over the vessel,
and coming into the cabin. I had resolved to
compose myself, and lay some time in prayer, till
finding nobody move below, and hearing the
language of distress above, I repeatedly, though
unheard, called to somebody to put up the dead-
lights, suspecting that the sea would break
through the cabin windows. Having been obli-
ged to rise, through the repeated breaking of the
sea, I went into the cabin, and found all fast
asleep but a woman, who was lying in the greatest
agony. I had not much difficulty to rouse them,
and being soon sensible of their situation, they
were roused indeed. The captain was filled with
rage that he was not called before, and speedily
went to work. The sails were no more to the
wind than a sheet of paper; they were torn to
pieces before they could be furled. The stew-
ard came down and put up the dead-lights, and
said there was little hope of our surviving long.
By the lightning, I saw the masts bend, and heard
the men repeatedly say they would be carried
away. By the good hand of God, the men were
all preserved on board, though a great part of our
live stock was washed away.
Not knowing but the hour of my departure was
PART 1.]
93
HIS OWN ACCOUNT,
•
+
at hand, I threw myself upon my bed, and endea-
voured to compose myself into a frame for ex-
amination and prayer. The situation was truly
awful. My nature shuddered; but amidst all, I
found my religious views profitable, and I could
bless God for Jesus Christ, and an humble hope
of interest in him. My chief concern was that
I had Mr. Whitefield's will, and I felt sorry, that,
by my being lost, his executors should be kept
in suspense. However, on reflection, I thought
it behooved me to have the more important object,
Eternity, uppermost; and I endeavoured to di-
vert my mind from every thing else. Two of
my fellow passengers came to me crying, and la-
menting their irreligious lives. They desired I
would go to prayer, and one of them said if he
survived this danger he would lead a different
life to what he had done. The other was fearful
of death, but did not discover any remarkable
religious impression. My mouth was open to
speak to them. Among other remarks, one I
made was that if we should be spared, they
would equally want that mercy for which they
then cried. I reminded them what is the only
way and method of salvation, expatiated from
their present feelings, upon the necessity of a re-
ligion that transforms the heart, and prepares us
for all events. They were attentive hearers, and
I believe, for once, heartily joined with me in
prayer.
When all was done that was possible, the cap-
tain said we had but one chance, which was from
the soundness of the bottom, and that we must now
be left to the mercy of the sea. Poor man, he
94
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
was ignorant of God, who governed it. We pray-
ed a second time together, by joint consent, and
the storm by degrees abated; with this our fears
subsided, and our hopes revived. A very great
swell continued for two days, in which time we
could neither sail by the compass, nor get observa-
tion. By contrary winds we were kept out at sea
much longer than the time in which the captain
usually made his passage home. Hence he lost
all his patience, and became very troublesome.
The weather was frequently very bad, and he as
frequently said, it was well we had sea-room. So
we found it when we came to land, being inform
ed that great havoc had been made among the
shipping, at that time in the Channel. I knew
not at least whether I was more tired of my situa-
tion or my company; both were bad enough. By
our loss of stock, our provision ran very short, and
what remained was very poor. We made land the
30th of January, 1771, with hopes of setting foot
on shore in a little time.
As the prospect of distress in the late tempest
wore away, my fellow-passengers lost their reli-
gious qualms, and broke out into expressions of im-
picty I had not heard before. When I found
them deaf to reason, I judged it my duty to be
silent, and endeavoured in patience to possess my
soul. I did not go to bed all the last night I was
on board. I spent part of it in writing a letter to
my thoughtless fellow-passengers. In it I frankly
reminded them of our many mercies, of our great
deliverance, and of their abuse of both. I re-
minded them of the uncertainty of life in the se-
1
PART I.
95
•]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
curest circumstances, and exhorted them to flee
from the wrath to come.
On the 2d day of February, a boat came along
side the packet. I was the only one of the crew
that went with her to the shore. As soon as I
could get discharged from the custom-house, I re-
tired to an inn, where I attempted to present my
grateful acknowledgments to the God of my sal-
vation, made a resignation of myself to his gra-
cious disposal, and indulged myself in meditation.
In the evening I attended preaching in Mr. Wes-
ley's room, and found it good to be there; after-
wards I retired to bed, and enjoyed a sweet sleep.
When last at Dover, I was a forlorn character,
with no prospects before me, barely clad, and
merely capable of getting conveyed from place
to place. I now had the means of travelling
comfortably. I vented my soul in a line to Mr.
Peronet, of Canterbury, whose former kindness
entitled him to the expression of my gratitude.—
It is good to recall the history of life to mind,
that we may be quickened to bless the Lord: I
find pleasure in the review, and I feel this effect
resulting from it. I bless God I have no disposi-
tion to deny his mercies, or to conceal his loving
kindness. May my heart never be the grave of
forgetfulness, but the altar of praise. From thence.
may grateful incense rise in abundance! I give
glory to God while I recite his goodness to you,
who possess a great share of that affection, that
makes it pleasant for me to subscribe myself,
My very dear friend,
Yours, &c.
96
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
LETTER X1I.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
Ir is a part of the Christian's wisdom to enjoy
his mercies, but to be cautious that he is not im-
peded by them in his progress. A voyage, or a
journey, is an emblem of life, the end of which is,
to be regarded, while we use the refreshments of
the passage.
I alighted at Dover, but was not to
be detained a second day, since I had an opportu-
nity to set off the next morning for London,
whither I arrived safe in the evening. The first
house I held myself bound to go to, was Mr.
Keen's, Woollen-draper, in the Minorics, a princi-
pal friend of Mr. Whitefield's, and one of his ex-
ecutors. He gave me a most kind reception. After
the first salutation, he said, he, and Mr. Hardy,
and Mr. West, the other managers of Mr. White-
field's concerns, had been but once sorry they let
me go, and that had been ever since. Having de-
livered Mr. Whitefield's will to him, and spent
some hours, he said he hoped I should make the
Tabernacle-house my home. I signified it had the
preference of all other places. The next day I
had the pleasure to see my relations, now lovers
and followers of that Gospel they once despised.
The letters I had received from them while abroad,
prepared me for this agreeable sight, and our meet-
ing was an emblem of that which I trust we shall
have on the other side of Jordan, notwithstanding
the strong efforts used by the enemy of souls to
prevent it.
PART 1.97
I.
]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
}
I knew my business required dispatch, and I was
desirous to know the issue. I therefore proceeded
immediately upon it, and a very few days ended
it. When my friends saw how well recommen-
ded I came home, they all seemed positive that I
should succeed. Mr. Broughton, on reading Mr.
Habersham's letter, made no doubt of it. He
seemed pleased exceedingly with my recommend-
ations, but want of courage in a good cause, and
the prevalence of the fear of man, suffered him to
subvert the design of his letter, for he never
showed it to the bishop, though he was present at
the society at Bow church, when my case was
canvassed. I wish to make no reflection upon
Mr. Broughton's pusillanimity. Providence saw
fit, no doubt for wise ends, to frustrate my inten-
tion in America, by shutting up the bishop's heart
against me, as will appear by a letter I wrote to
the Rev. Mr. Zububuhler's executors, giving them
an account of the whole process of the affair after
my arrival, which was as follows:
"GENTLEMEN,
“WHILE I possess much satisfaction upon a recol-
lection of the prudence with which I have con-
ducted myself since I arrived in England, and have
commenced candidate for holy orders, it gives me
pain on many accounts that I am obliged to inform
you, that neither your strong recommendations,
nor the use I have made of them, have been pro-
ductive of their desired effect. There is a first
cause for all the disappointments we meet with in
life, and we should be reconciled to them.—One
would have thought the great pains you have
K
98
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
been put to, the character you have so kindly given
me, the generosity you hare shown me, together
with the additional favour of his excellency's and
Mr. Frink's recommendation to his Lordship of
London, for my admission into the establishment,
were sure indications of success.-But all these
have availed me nothing.
"That I may not leave you in the dark about
the matter, I think it my duty to state the whole
case to you as justly as possible, and then you will
judge of the propriety of the conduct of the so-
ciety, and of the bishop.
"At my arrival I waited upon Mr. Knox, who,
after perusing Mr. Habersham's letter, was pleased
to express his great approbation, and he directed
me to Dr. Burton, to whom he desired I would
signify the letter he had received, and ask direc
tions how I should proceed. The doctor read
that part of Mr. Zububuhler's will, that respects.
the instruction of negroes; he observed it was
plain Mr. Zububuhler designed the gentleman
employed should be in orders, but gave it as his
advice, that as I wanted nothing from the society,
I should immediately go to the Bishop of London
with the letters directed to him.
6
(
"The next morning I waited upon his lordship,
who, after reading the testimonials, sent for me
into his room. He said, You have been over to
America as a preacher?' I answered, No, as a
' catechist.' But,' said his lordship, You have
preached?' I replied, I have attempted to ex-
plain the Scriptures to the negroes, and some peo-
ple's curiosity have excited them to hear;' to
which he answered, it is illegal; you had no right
to do so.' As I stood before his lordship as a can-
.
PART. I.]
99
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
didate, and not as a casuist to defend my conduct,
I judged it prudent upon this, and some other re-
marks not very material, to be silent.
(
"The next question was, where was I educated ?
I answered, My lord, I have had no education,
but what I have acquired by dint of industry.'
His lordship proceeded to inquire where I was boru,
and to what I was brought up? I replied, I was
born in London, served seven years' apprenticeship
to a mechanic, and as soon as possible afterwards
applied myself to the study of divinity. His lord-
ship asked, Then how came you to go over to A-
merica? To which I answered, On purpose to
see if I could be of any service to the negroes.'
'Then,' said his Lordship, 'you went over with
Mr. Whitefield ?' I replied, Yes, my Lord.' He
added, Then I suppose you have been connected
with him ?' I replied, My lord, I cannot with pro-
priety say, I have been connected with any body
else.' His lordship was pleased to commend me,
in being, as he termed it, honest to him in not
leaving him in the dark, and directly added, Then
to be sure you have drank deep into his senti-
ments?' To which I replied, I hope, my lord,
I shall be enabled to give a degree of satisfaction.
upon examination.' He said, I hope you have
not baptized children?' I replied,' By no means;
Mr. Frink promised me his assistance in the dis-
charge of that office, till I should be authorized.'
He then inquired if I had read Burnet upon the Ar-
ticles?' I replied I had, with other authors for my
instruction and information.'-This was the purport
of our conference, and I can make no very consid-
erable mistake, as I minuted it down the very mo-
(
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6
1.00
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
$
ment I left his lordship. He said he should do
nothing for me of himself, that it was always usual
for missionaries to apply to him through the society,
that they should meet at Bow church, on the 15th
instant, where I should be examined, and he
should ordain the next week.
"From the manner in which his lordship dis-
missed me, though there was nothing kind in his
deportment, for his look was severe, there was 110
softness in his manner, and he suffered me to
stand all the time I was with him, I formed some
expectation of success, and was in hopes I should
meet with no impediment. But to my surprise,
after waiting in Bow church till the society was
nearly broken up, Dr. Burton sent for me into
the vestry, and informed me, my business had
been laid before the society, who agreed to have
nothing to do with it, as there were no letters di-
rected to them; neither could they recommend
me to the Bishop of London, as I wanted no assist-
ance from them. I attempted a reply, but was
frequently interrupted, being informed they could
do nothing for me, and that it was concluded on,
that Mr. Zububuhler's will did not require that
the person employed on the estate should be a
clergyman. How foreign was this both to the
bishop's and doctor's former sentiment. Mr.
Broughton, who had been present, waited for my
coming out, and gave me some account both of
his excellency's and Mr. Frink's letter, each of
which were expressive of my moral conduct. He
also informed me, that the Archbishop of Canter-
bury with others, made some remarks which turn-
ed in the negative. However, all agreed if his
101
$
14
PART 1.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
Lordship of London were disposed to ordain me,
they had no objection; but his lordship replied,
he would have nothing to do with the American
business but through the society; and he added,
that he was afraid the young gentleman had drank
deep into Mr. Whitefield's doctrine.
"I was very much concerned that Mr. Knox
was not present at Bow church, till I waited upon
him in the evening, when he gave for reason, that
he knew it would be of no purpose, having met
the committee the evening before, which consisted
of the same body-that Dr. Young, Bishop of Nor-
wich, and several others, refused to see Mr. Ha-
bersham's letter, or to attend to the subject.-
Somebody informed them that the executors had
spoken very disrespectful things of the society
and their missionaries; and it was further observ-
ed, the executors had no right to employ any per-
son without the consent of the society. These,
in general, are the things Mr. Knox related to
me. I advised with him whether, as his lordship
had not put a negative upon me personally, I
should not wait upon him. Mr. Knox thought I
should; and that I should write something, and
send it to his lordship first, lest by sharpness of
speech, he should prevent me from speaking my
mind to him; accordingly, I retired to a friend's
house, and wrote the following letter:
• MY LORD,
IT has given me inexpressible pain to think
that any misconduct or mistake, either in myself
or the gentlemen intrusted with the affairs of the
late Rev. Mr. Zububuhler, should prevent your
}
3
•
K 2
102
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
approbation. My being ignorant of the assigned
means to obtain so desirable an end, I hope will
be an excuse in my favour, as it is strictly true,
nor can I in any other way apologize for the hon-
ourable and worthy gentlemen in whose service
I am embarked. I should rejoice in an opportu
nity to give your lordship the strongest proof of
the uprightness and sincerity of my heart, actuated
by no motive inferior to the glory of God, and
the very miserable and benighted condition of
those slaves, for whom no man can labour with a
view to their spiritual interest, without suffering
reproach. It is true, when I first engaged in the
undertaking, I was under no apprehension that
this would be the concomitant of such an enter-
prise; but I have since learned by experience,
that it is one mark among many given by the
colonists, of their disapprobation of the instruction
of their slaves. I would beg leave to observe to
your lordship, that the 26th of last December was
a day of so great distress as to render the annual
return of it memorable to me, while memory will
help me to recollect the works of the Lord, and
his wonders in the deep. From the gloomy pros-
pect then before my eyes, and the imminent dan-
ger the most skilful mariner on board our ship
acknowledged we were in, there was little room
to hope I should have had occasion to solicit your
lordship's sanction. I am persuaded, if your lord-
ship were acquainted with my principles, they
would afford you all possible satisfaction; as I
have, through divine mercy, derived them from
that fountain from whence no impure stream can
proceed, neither can vicious sentiments be found
there.
PART I.]
103
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
Encouraged by your lordship's patronage, I
am once more willing to leave my dear country
and friends, and venture across the Atlantic, suf-
fer inclement weathers, and, as must be the case,
to be of real service to the negroes, many disa-
greeable inconveniences and much weariness, if
by any means I may be instrumental of turning
some of them from darkness to light. But, if I
am denied what is the only apparent means to
give me acceptance, I shall consider it the voice
of Providence, directing me to take up my resi
dence again in my native land, till I shall be call-
ed to enter the rest remaining for the people of
God. I shall esteem it a very singular honour
done me, to be favoured with your lordship's
countenance; and even though I should be de-
nied, shall think myself under equal obligation
to pray for your lordship's long life and increas-
ing usefulness in the church, while I can sub-
scribe myself, with submission,
My lord,
Your lordship's most dutiful son, and
• Obedient servant, &c.'
“After his lordship had perused the above let-
ter, he sent for me into him, and said, “I sup-
pose you have heard what the society have con-
cluded on?" I replied, "My lord, I have; and
as it is a matter entirely left to your lordship,
I hope you will determine it in my favour." But
though I urged the necessity by repeated argu-
ments, the only reply he made was, "I can do
nothing in it.” He observed, coincident with
the society, the will did not require me to be
104
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
C
ordained; and when I told him I could not
think of returning in my present circumstances,
he said, I must do as I please,' and withal ad-
ded, Now Mr. Whitefield is dead, you want
to throw yourself under our wing.' He said, they
had an objection against ordaining any person
brought up to business; and frequently repeated,
that Every body might say they have a call
to preach;' and that I had been a preacher
with Mr. Whitefield, which was illegal.' To
each of these I made a reply in submission to
his lordship's judgment, but did not dwell upon
them, remembering the circumstances in which
I stood. At last he began to reflect very severe-
ly upon the executors, for sending to Mr. White-
field for a missionary, in a manner that it is not
worth while to trouble you with a narration of,
saying, The society has been used ill;' and con-
cluded with these words, To be plain with you,
Mr. Winter, we had information from America of
your going over, long before you embarked from
England, and had warning, even though you
should return home, not to ordain you.'
(
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"I think I have been as just and circumstantial
in my account as I can. I wish the prolixity of
it may not tire your patience. The most disa-
greeable part I have to act, in consequence of
my disappointment, is the resignation of my poor
charge according to my intention, which I hint-
ed when I was favoured with a meeting among
you: for though I have the spiritual welfare of
the negroes much at heart, yet I could not think
my labours would be employed solely among
them; and the importunities of my numerous
friends to stay at home, give me to know how
PART I.]
105
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
much more acceptable I shall be among them,
than among the very few in the province of Geor-
gia, who will not dispense with my want of ordi-
nation.
"I bear upon my heart a very grateful sense
of your generosity and kindness, in making me
so exceedingly comfortable in my outward cir-
cumstances, and am sorry that by the necessity
I am under to resign my charge, it has proved
so fruitless an expense. I hope the Almighty
of his infinite mercy, will raise up some person
more capable of, and successful in the important
work, than it has been in my power to be. Who-
ever have been my hindrance, I freely forgive
them, and pray God it may not be laid to their
charge. There will be a day wherein all the up-
right in heart shall glory, and in that day my
motive for coming to Georgia will appear such as
I shall not be ashamed of; nor will it then ap
pear less evident, that my resignation is not the
effect of a fickle and unstable mind. Since my
rejection, I have waited upon every gentleman
who I judged had any interest, and among the
rest, upon Dr. Franklin, who has engaged to use
his exertions on my behalf with the associates
of Dr. Bray, of which society he is a member.
In about a month I shall be able to judge of his
success, and shall be glad to convince the execu-
tors of the Rev. Mr. Zububuhler, of my good
will to continue in their service, and in the inte
rim I beg leave to subscribe myself,
"Gentlemen,
"Your very humble and
"Obedient servant, &e.
"London, February 26, 1771."
106
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Just as I shut the door on leaving the bishop,
he called to me, which led me to think the scale
was turned, but he only said, "When you return
to America let me know" to which I replied,
My lord, I cannot think of returning without
ordination:" bowing his head, he said, " Very
well;" and thus we parted till the judgment
day. The thread of the narration requires that
I should introduce Mr. Clay's answer to the above
letter, which runs thus:
"DEAR SIR,
"YOUR much esteemed favour of the 26th
of February last I have now before me for reply.
I should have answered it sooner, but waited
the arrival of Captain Anderson, who, I had
some hopes, might probably have brought us
some better news in regard to the success of your
endeavours to obtain ordination, but I find to no
purpose-God's will be done; he knows what is
best for us, and will do it in that way that seem-
eth him best. Were I to say I am not extreme-
ly sorry for your disappointment on your own
account, I should say a great untruth. I should
have been very happy to have seen you in this
land again, could you have come in a proper man-
ner, I mean in orders; but as a friend, I could
not, as matters have turned out, advise your re-
turning here. There are many, very many, con-
sidering the number of our inhabitants, and some
of those in authority, who rejoice exceedingly at
your disappointment; and perhaps if in their
power, would render you all the ill offices they
could. Indeed, some of them, I am pretty sure,
PART I.]
107
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
have been as industrious as possible already, to
prejudice you all they could on this side, and
glory in it. All this I know would be nothing
to you, if you could have any prospect before
you of doing good to souls.
"As I before observed, I am really sorry for
your disappointment-but I must be free to say
it does not give me half so much uneasiness on
your own account, as to see that a door is so shut
against us. Unless God in his infinite mercy
and goodness, uses some extra means in our fa-
vour, this land, I may say land of darkness and
ignorance, (more particularly if applied relative
to the people in the back woods, many of whom
I dare say never saw a Bible in their lives, or
ever heard a gospel sermon, and most of whom
can neither write nor read,) must be left without
teachers, at least of the gospel of Jesus Christ,
the true and only Saviour of sinners, unless we
encourage those who are dissenters from the es-
tablished church, which for my part I have not
the least objection to, provided we cannot get
others. But I must say that I think, if two men
equally qualified for the ministry, the one of the
established church, and the other a dissenter from
the church, that the former would be more favour-
ably received, I mean in this country; and for
which reason, I would rather wish to see episco-
pal ministers among us.
"What can our dignitaries think, or really one
would rather ask, do they think at all? One would
imagine, if we were to judge on this side from
these they generally send among us as ministers,
that their only care was to see that they were
108
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
not religious men. It is surprising that there is
not one among them, who would venture to or-
dain such persons as they should have reason to
think would prove faithful teachers. This is, as
I presume, for fear of the scoffs of their brethren.
Much might be said upon this head, but perhaps
it may be more prudent to be silent. A great
part of your opposition at home, I am sure has
been owing to letters from Mr. Frink, particular-
ly so far as relates to the society. I remember
at one of our meetings, after that we had received
a letter from poor Mr. Whitefield, acquainting
us, he had no prospect of getting a person in or-
ders for Mr. Zububuhler's estate, some of the gen-
tlemen said that Mr. Frink said, if we would
give him leave, he would write to the society,
and get us a proper person out immediately; to
which reply was made, that we had specimens
enough of ministers of their sending out, and
that they, (the society,) would be the last peo-
ple we should think of writing to; and I believe
added, that a person with no other qualification
than Mr. Frink himself, could by no means suit
us: all this I dare say was immediately carried
to him, and was what I suppose the society meant
by our speaking ill of them. I understand they
think they have a right to be consulted in regard
to a catechist, for the parson's estate. They
may think so, but it is a right we shall never al-
low them, nor shall we ever trouble them in any
matter relative to it."
This was dated from Savannah, the 30th of June,
1771, accompanied with one from Mr. Habersham,
from which the following is an extract:
PART I.]
109
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
"Perhaps few of your friends think themselves
more interested in your success, in getting ordina-
tion than myself; and I think I may also truly say,
that few, if any of your friends, have a higher es-
teem, or more real friendship for your person than
I have; and therefore your disappointment has gi-
ven me much concern, and I cannot help viewing
it as a frown of divine Providence.
•
"I had raised my expectation of seeing a
church of Africans, and had fixed on you as the in-
strument, under God, to bring it about; and ho-
ped that you would have been the happy man, to
have presented many of them to your Father, and
to their Father, with a Here am I, and the chil-
dren whom thou hast given me.' You know there
are a few, and of no inconsiderable property, who
would be glad to have their black servants become
fellow-heirs with them, and partakers of the inheri-
tance undefiled, and that fadeth not away. Is it
then possible that the guardians and fathers of our
excellent church should refuse orders to a man
every way qualified, amply provided for, unexcep-
tionable in his moral character, and heartily desirous
from the best motive, the love of God, to engage in
and promote so arduous, so painful, and difficult a
work, as the conversion of those neglected and be-
nighted people from, what shall I call it, prejudice
or mistake? I could say more, but I forbear;
not doubting but God will vindicate his own
cause. I have by this conveyance written to good
Lady Huntingdon, and have desired her to have
some conversation with you on this subject, as
you are circumstantially acquainted with the state
and provision made for the mission here; and in
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110
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
case you do not see your way clear to return to us,
a kind Providence may possibly point out some
person properly qualified, agreeable to the will of
the donor, to succeed you, who I may venture to
say, will be heartily received by those intrusted
with the execution of it."
The review of these letters may seem tedi-
ous; but to any one who may think it worth
while to acquaint themselves with the memoirs
of a person who feels himself insignificant, it is
presumed they will not appear altogether need-
less. As transcribed by my own pen, they may
appear to savour of self-applause, but they are
really inserted with no other view than to set
forth a naked truth, as it relates to the ineffectu-
alness of the methods pursued for my obtaining
orders in the church. At this distance of time,
in which I review the whole affair, not less than
a period of twenty-eight years, no other reflec-
tion should be indulged than what tends to ex-
cite a disposition to give glory to God. If we
should not ascribe too much to men in a way of
applause, as though they acted independent of
God, neither should we be too severe in our cen-
sures, as though in that part of their conduct
which seems reprehensible, they conducted them-
selves by their own power or wisdom. As the
hearts of kings, so of other men, are in the hands
of the Lord. Of promotion, it is observed that
it cometh neither from the east, nor from the
west, nor from the south, but God is the judge.
Though we may be disappointed, he is not de-
feated; all things are ordered according to the
counsel of his own will. To the frustration of
my hope, my vencrable and dear friend, Mr. Ber-
J
PART I •]
111
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ridge, refers in his letters, with a few scntences
of which I cannot help making the conclusiou
of this. I give you also, though it relates not
to my concern, his idea of the defeat of Mr.
Whitefield's design, because of the singularity
of the style and sentiment.
"It excites in me no surprise that the Orphan-
house is burnt down. It was originally intended
for orphans, and as such was a laudable design;
but has ceased to be an Orphan-house, in order
to become a Lumber house for human learning,
and God has cast a brand of his displeasure upon
it; but how gracious the Lord has been to Mr.
Whitefield, in preserving it during his life time!
We all love to lay plans, and you laid a very
fair one last winter, but your master has shown
you he will not employ you as his counsellor.
"As to ordination, I can only say, pray and
wait for a clear discovery of the Lord's mind.-
If you find an eagerness for it, suspect that ea-
gerness as the produce of your own will; but
if you are backward, and yet disposed to comply,
if it be the Lord's will, it looks well. What-
ever I have undertaken with eagerness, has always
miscarried; and what I have attempted with
trembling, and some little reluctance, has gene-
rally succeeded."
•
"You had an eager desire to go to America,
and it was a well-meant desire, but it does not
seem to have been the Lord's mind. At length
you had a passage to America, and it seemed a
providential one, and you went with joy, but re-
turned with sorrow and disappointment."
Perhaps good was done by going to America, of
112
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
7
which I am not acquainted. With this conjee
ture I conclude this letter, and remain,
My very dear friend,
Yours, &c.
1
LETTER XIII.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
GOODNESS and mercy were exercised towards me
in that very event, which appeared to be unfavour-
able. While I was in America, there was con-
tinual murmuring at the conduct of the British
ministry. Yet little did I think a continental
war was so near. I scarcely got my foot upon
the English shore, before I found the resistance
of the Americans to taxes the general topic; and
had I succeeded in my endeavours, I must have
experienced soon the horrors of war. But not
immediately apprised of this, you may suppose
the disappointment I met with was attended
with a little shock. Though it produced some
uneasy feelings, they were very inconsiderable,
and over-balanced by the testimony of my con-
science. I had used no shifts nor evasions to in-
sinuate myself into his Lordship's favour, judg-
ing them to be beneath the Christian. Some of
my brethren have reflected upon me for trying,
as they supposed, the whole bench to obtain
ordination; but I never applied to any beside
the Bishop of St. Asaph, after the Bishop of Lon-
don refused me. The interview with the former
was short, but favourable; he told me he would
PART 1.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
113
{
be my
friend under the rose, but I did not wait
upon him a second time. Some of the clergy in
Dr. Bray's association, required, in order to my
having their interest, that I should renounce my
present sentiments; but Dr. Franklin, properly
said he was persuaded I had too much honesty
to do so; when he mentioned it to me, I told him
I had no sentiment to renounce. A circumstance
not unworthy of notice, is, that on going out I
landed in Charleston with two guineas in my
pocket; and by making Mr. Whitefield a gratu-
itous present of half a dozen bottles of port wine,
I was reduced to one pound four shillings. I
acquitted myself properly in Georgia, and had
some occasions to exercise humanity, and brought
home twelve guineas.
Mr. Keen, who received me so cordially at my
arrival home, was ever anxious to know the event
of my applications to the bishops, and discover-
ed a degree of pleasure when he found my pro-
spect shut up. He frequently said, in a way of
pleasantry, "We will ordain you: you had bet-
ter go down to Bristol and bury yourself for a
month, and then return to your old office of read-
ing prayers at the chapel." I replied, I knew
I was called to preach the gospel, but did not
know I was called to read prayers. He said they
could have preachers enough. He asked me
what I intended to do; I said, preach the gospel.
"Where?" "In the whole world if called to it."
The favour of kindness before this had abated.
I gave offence by using a sheet of writing pa-
per, and the paper-case was locked up; and be-
ing asked if I could not get a lodging at my re-
L 2
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✓
?
114
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
isa
Jation's, I took the question as an ejectment, and
left my quarters.
In the order of divine Providence, there is a
strange combination of circumstances, by which
what is appointed is brought to pass. In the
same year, died Mr. Whitefield, Mr. Howel Da-
vies, the head of Calvinistical methodism in
Pembrokeshire, and Mr. Adams, of Rodborough,
the leader of the same cause in Gloucestershire
and Wilts. Though the Tabernacle at Bristol
was under Mr. Whitefield's auspices, yet strange
to say, in his will he made not the least mention
of it. The trustees in London offered to befriend
it; but would not accept it as part of their charge.
All was confusion there. The two considerable
men then depended upon, were Messrs. Collet
and Ireland. Preachers in that department were
very scarce indeed. Mr. Croom, of Rodborough,
much against his will, had been detained at Bris-
tol twelve months. Pressing letters were sent to
me, particularly by Mr. Ireland and Mr. Hogg,
who also was a leading man in the Bristol and
Gloucestershire cause, and by the death of Mr.
Adams, became senior preacher in the connexion.
A very earnest letter from the latter, which would
be proper to insert here if I could recover it, was
the means of diverting my attention from the
Bishop of St. Asaph.-Judging that in that letter,
the voice of Providence was to be heard very
loudly, I released myself from the inconveniences
of my London situation, and re-entered upon
my ministerial labours at Bristol. I was kindly
received by all. I endeavoured to act the part of
a moderator, in which I happily succeeded. But
་
.
:
PART I.]
115
IIS OWN ACCOUNT.
it proved I had here a cup to drink, not the most
agreeable to flesh and blood. After I had inde-
fatigably served the congregation for more than
six months, upon terms very different from those
of the gentlemen who now serve it, I was dismis-
sed under many marks of unkindness.
A variety of occurrences turning up at this
time, crowd in upon my mind.-It was the 8th of
April, 1771, that I went to Bristol, and in about
three weeks after, my very happy acquaintance
commenced with my dear and most highly es-
teemed friend, Mr. Rowland Hill. This has been v
one of the greatest mercies of my life. It is now
more than twenty-eight years that I have enjoyed
it. If the same degree of honesty and honour,
had been in some pretended friendships, that I
have proved in him, there had not been such
diversity in these memoirs. From the Sabbath
on which I had the pleasure to introduce him into
the Tabernacle pulpit, has religion been reviving
through his instrumentality, and the flame has
burned strong ever since. Other instruments may
have helped it, but it began with him. May his
dear and valuable life be continued long after
the hand that writes these lines is motionless.
He had come from the north, and it was prac-
ticable to detain him. He was then under the
frowns of his family; by his devoted, and invaria-
ble attachment to the gospel, a distressed gentle-
man. I felt a peculiar attachment to him, and
but from my constraint to the ministry, which
I found I dared not relinquish, should, pro tem-
pore, have made a voluntary offer of my humble
services to him as an attendant. At this time also
116
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
to me.
I became acquainted with Mr. Joseph Shipman,
who was one of the six students, expelled from
Oxford. My acquaintance with him commenced
from a very affecting letter he wrote the Bristol
society, who had partook of his short labours in
the decline of life. I spent much time with him,
and found it very profitable. He wanted services
I was enabled to render him, and I found my
being with him opened a door of many mercies
One anecdote I cannot omit to communi-
cate. I had no more at this time than, literally,
daily bread. Not returning to America, I had no
further claim upon the plantation. My twelve
guineas which I brought hoine were exhausted.
My dying friend used to remind me, that I wanted
a new suit of clothes: I replied, when I could pay
for them I would have them. Neglected by the
Tabernacle connexions, I was at liberty for any
opening Providence might make to me. Itineracy
seemed to be my lot; but I was neither equipped
for such a life, nor had 1 ability to equip myself.
Mr. Shipman, remarking that I wanted a horse, I
said, if I run in debt for any thing, it must be for
that. I had occasionally hired one, for which I
was disposed to bargain; but when the bargain was
made, I signified I had not money to pay for it,
and thus became a debtor of ten pounds for a horse,
which carried me more than six years. A party
of gentry which was at Clifton, had heard of the
pleasing frame of Mr. Shipman's mind, and was
desirous of seeing and conversing with him. Cap-
tain, now Sir Charles Middleton *, was one of
* Now Lord Barham.
PART I.]
117
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
them, to whom I dedicated Mr. Shipman's funeral
sermon; he came to the Tabernacle to hear me,
repeatedly invited me to dine with the party, and
the last time, previous to my going away, sur-
prised me with a present of ten guineas. This
I note as a kind interposition of divine Providence,
though not the only one by very many since,
whereby my wants have been supplied.-At this
juncture it was, that my honoured and worthy
friends, Mr. Powis, and Mr. Hill, now Sir Richard,
gave me the honour of their friendship. My in-
troduction was by Mr. Rowland Hill. By several
annual visits to them, and intermediate interviews,
my exhausted cruise was supplied. I always
found in Mr. Powis' family, I was out of my
sphere; but studied to make myself as agreeable
as possible: and though my ministerial labours
there, were attended with some peculiar difficul-
ties to myself, they were in general useful to
others. I visited the amiable widow of Mr.
Powis, repeatedly after his death, and always
found a kind reception. I frequently paid a visit
to Everton and its environs, and found the vene-
rable vicar ever disposed to be kind and affection
ate. The late Mr. Thornton, who refused to give
me any help in procuring orders, and reflected
upon my having engaged in the curate's place,
at Tottenham-court, became my warm and steady
friend. He always promoted my exertions in the
cause of God, was pleased at intelligence I could
give him, and was free to communicate any that
he thought I could use to advantage. He would
sometimes invite me to London, and require from
me the office of chaplain. By his munificence
118
MEMOIRS OF €. WINTER.
my wants have often been supplied, and I have al-
so been enabled to relieve the wants of others.
In the spring of 1772, I first visited the society
of Haverfordwest, and repeated my visits to that
and the neighbouring congregations thrice, mak-
ing a considerable stay each time. The requisite
labours were hard, but they were amply rewarded
by the influences attending them, and from the li-
beral disposition of the people; for spiritual things
sown, ministers reaped carnal things in an abun-
dance. Strange that some ministers should have
returned from their Welch tour to talk about their
crosses, the greatest of which must have been an
intrusion upon their time; they could not have had
a defect in their bed or board. In the years 1774 and
1775, I paid two visits to a destitute congregation
at Lancaster. I introduced the gospel at Gar-
stang, where I believe it continues established
unto this day. Here I met with Mr. Winton,
who has been many years, and is now the minis-
ter of Exmouth, a Scotch youth, in humble life;
I brought him off with me, and by one way and
another provided for him, and taught him. He
was strictly an itinerant student. I took him a
long circuit, brought him round to Lancaster again,
and finding it inconvenient to continue him my
companion in travel, I placed him under Mr.
Titus Knight, of Halifax, from whence he was
✓ placed under Lady Glenorchy's patronage. It was
a bold, some would call it a presumptuous under-
taking, but the Lord put an honour upon it. From
Lancaster I proceeded to revisit Yorkshire, where 1
had laboured in 1768, particularly at Leeds and Ha-
lifax. I paid occasional visits to London, and was
PART 1.]
119
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
admitted to the Tabernacle pulpit. In Totten-
ham-court chapel I preached but once for many
years, and was surprised at the largeness of the
congregation. Mr. Keen, displeased at my rejec-
tion of his motion when the bishop refused me,
carried his resentment, and some say-a person by
me least suspected, heightened it, so that I was
become an alien to my mother's children. My
interference in a very critical business at Bristol,
wherein the glory of God, and the credit of reli-
gion was very nearly concerned, created me a
deal of expense and trouble, and exposed me to
reflection. This respected a person held in the
highest esteem by the religious and profane; a
man who, though not in affluence, was allowed
to rank with the polite, and was considered a gen-
tleman. The circle of ministers, and Mr. White-
field, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Kinsman particular-
ly, never thought themselves happier in Bristol
than when they were with him. He might be
called the secretary of the Tabernacle, for he kept
all the accounts. Not a flaw was in his charac
ter till the event referred to, was discovered.-
He concealed it as long as he could-he divul-
ged it to me, and I thought all to whom I men.
tioned it, would applaud my conduct, and with
me fly to his help; but they left me under the
burden I had adventurously taken, and forsook
the man in his distress, they had honoured in his
prosperity. To this conduct, Messrs. Roquet,
Hill, and Grove, are exceptions. They stood
forth, they eventually rescued; and their atten-
tion to the same person proved, that it was not
imprudent in me to sympathise with a character
who, if he had possessed an overgrown fortune,
would have shone with it.
.:
120
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Gloucestershire and Wilts were the circle in
which I more commonly moved. Wotton-under-
edge and Frampton, were, by Mr. Hill's instru-
mentality, added to the cause.-No stipend was
connected with my labours, and the occasional
gratuities I received, were too inconsiderable to
admit of my commanding a purse. I felt the im-
portance of a place to retire in, and groaned under
the want of improvement. My efforts were fre-
quently discovered, and as frequently reproached
by the enemies of literature; and our connexions
abounded with too many, who made little discri-
mination between study and sin. I furnished a
room in the cottage at Christian-malford, in Wilts,
adjoining a malt-house which had been convert-
ed into a preaching place, of which I was extreme-
ly fond, and where I had an inclination to live
and die. For this room I paid rent; here I col-
lected my little library and papers, resorted to it
as often, and staid as long as I could, but as I
paid for all I had, and my purse contained shil-
lings rather than guineas, I could not continue
there long at a time. It being unto me when-
ever I could get there, an heaven upon earth; it
may be supposed I left it with reluctance. I used
to tell my honoured friends in Shropshire, that if
în a day's time I could be transported from their
mansion to that cot, I should not, with the com-
mon fare of a small piece of bacon, in a large dish
of greens, miss the elegancies of the preceding
day's table.
Every now and then my inclination to be or-
dained revived; hints given me in Shropshire,
encouraged it. The Rev. Mr. Stillingflect's in-
PART 1.]
121
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
3
fluence, and his disposition towards me, for I oc-
casionally preached in his house, prompted it;
but I doubted if it were my duty to be silent, and
by that time I had accidentally laid hold of Dr.
Wilton upon Subscription, and Toogood's Answer
to White; both of which, with other writers up-
on the subject, I read with attention, and my at-
tention by these authors was directed to things.
which I never saw before. An instance of the
force of episcopal prejudice I must not omit here.
I went to breakfast with Mr. Hitchen, one morn-
ing after my return from America. In the course
of conversation, he asked me what I intended to do.
I told him to get orders, if I could. He said, “ I
love a clergyman to my heart, and have had a
great desire to go into the church; but, (stretch-
ing out his hand, and laying hold of a flat vol- v
ume which contained the Canons and Articles,)
these always prevent me.' He referred to some
particulars and made his remarks; when I left
him, the conflict between prejudice and convic-
tion was so powerful, that it made me ill; and,
though so early in the day, I was obliged to re·
tire to bed. Better informed upon the subject
now, than I had formerly been, my mind became
settled; and I determined if once I received or-
dination among the Dissenters of any description,
never to invalidate it by submitting to any other.
Though to be the pastor of a particular flock,
was congenial to my turn of mind, yet the
strength of affection to my methodistical cir-
cle would not admit of my deserting it. I want-
ed to be more effectually useful among them.-
The want of the ordinances of baptism and the
M
>>
122
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Lord's supper, being regularly administered, was
a manifest disadvantage to the work. Mr. Hill
saw it and lamented it, and proposed my receiving
ordination. I was to be ordained to the three socie-
ties, of Castlecombe, Christian-malford, and Chip-
penham, in Wilts. Though these were to be
my more immediate charge, it was designed that
I should continue my visits to the congregations
in Gloucestershire, in connexion with my breth-
ren, Messrs. Hill, Hogg, Croom, and Vines.-
The motion was accepted. It may serve as a
sufficient apology for my having been a pluralist,
that I had no stipend, but lived upon Providence,
and was ignorant from what quarter my resour-
ces were to come. The poverty of the people
not only prevented them from helping me, but
rendered it necessary, that I, out of my uncer-
tain quota, should help them. The day set apart
for the solemnity of ordination, was October the
2d, 1777. The persons engaging in the work
of the day, were Mr. Joss, of London; Mr. Wil-
liams, of Stevancy, in Monmouthshire; and Mr.
Clark, of Trowbridge. It was performed at my
little Bethel, at Christian-malford, and it proved
a blessed day. It was honoured by the conversion
of a whole family; the parents died in faith, and
the children are now walking in the truth. Mr.
Clark opened with an exposition of the 34th of
Ezekiel, from the first to the eleventh verse, and
1 Peter, v. from the first to the fourth verse. He
asked me such questions as were suitable, and re.
quired me to give the confession of my faith.—
After prefacing with such observations and apo-
logy, as circumstances rendered necessary, I de-
PART 1.]
123
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
livered it. The three ministers satisfied with it,
then proceeded with prayer and imposition of
hands to set me apart; the prayer was offered up
by Mr. Williams, who afterwards proceeded to
deliver the charge from 2 Tim. ii. 1. This was
followed by a sermon from Mr. Joss to the peo-
ple, from 1 Thess. v. 12. The whole service
continued five hours; but was so far from being
thought tedious by the congregation, that num-
bers acknowledged they were strangers to every
unpleasant fecling. My own soul was truly
solemn, and I was so affected when I engaged in
my part, that my speech was sometimes interrupt-
ed, and often broken. I engaged to take part of
all the trials as well as all the comforts of the peo-
ple, I then was devoted to serve more immedi-
ately.
It was attended by a very considerable number of
people. I suspected that many of the neighbours
would have scoffed through prejudice; but on
the contrary, all behaved with the strictest de-
cency, and numbers were in tears. I was sus-
picious some of my church friends would have
been offended, but met with no instance of re-
flection; on the contrary, several expressed their
approbation. One in a note, said, "I can only
attend in spirit, and by prayer at the throne of
grace; and hope the Lord will manifest his gra-
cious presence in a powerful manner to the hearts
of those that attend, and renew your mission to
a lost world."
One of the most regular clergymen sent me the
following short letter, which I received the very
morning I was ordained.
124
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
་་ ་་
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
"OUR friends at Trowbridge have informed us
that you are upon the point of receiving ordina-
tion as a Dissenting minister. I trust you will ex-
perience the blessing and presence of the Lord
Jesus Christ, the great bishop of our souls, on
this and every other occasion, and that you will
find this sanction useful to you in your ministe-
rial employment. An external designation, though
not necessary to the being of a preacher of the
gospel, is, where it may be had, ordinarily expe-
dient to the regular ministration of the church of
Christ., May we be enabled to preserve in all
things, the happy medium between resting in
outward things, and despising those institutions,
which the church of Christ has ever approved.”
None ever approved more of the order the gos-
pel requires than,
My very dear friend,
Yours, &c.
LETTER XIV.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
It might be supposed that my ordination had
been the consequence of a disposition in the peo-
ple to meet my wishes; and that they intended
to assist me with what was necessary for the sup-
ply of my wants, that I might be enabled to serve
them as faithfully, as I was disposed to serve
them affectionately. But it was rather subservi-
ent to the advantage of others, than materially
1
PART I.]
125-*
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
useful to those for whose benefit it was primari-
ly designed. The issue of it, and the subsequent
Providence of God towards me, which has been
wise and good, comes to be opened to you.
I was allowed to bear all the expense of the
ordination myself. The day after the service, I
found my spirits much fatigued and very lan-
guid. After my friends left me, I betook myself
to solemn retirement, which I spent in recollec-
tion and examination. The retirement was as
heaven to me, as much as earth would admit of;
the pleasures of it were only damped by a convic-
tion it must often be interrupted; for supposing
I could have kept in the circuit, the accommoda-
tions of the other two places, Chippenham and
Castle-combe, were not equally comfortable, as
they were unfavourable to the share of solitude
I required for study. I might have been discou-
raged with the thought, that my purse did not
produce subsistence for a month. But I made the
best of the hour, and set my mind to such medi-
tation as was suited to the ensuing sabbath.
lippians iv. 1. opened readily and widely to me,
and I went into the pulpit with the words in my
mouth, and with the weight and importance of
them in my heart. Wherever I cast my eye,
I thought I saw my brother, my sister, and my
mother. The ordinance of the sacred supper,
which I afterwards administered, was attended
with some favourable tokens, that he, who gra-
ciously appointed it was present. I proceeded
to move conscientiously in the circuit, and to di-
vide to each department of the household of faith,
their portion of meat in due season.
A proper
Phil-
M 2
126
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
#
regard was paid to the favourite object, itineracy,
which I had been given to understand must
on no consideration be dropped, and that the
brethren in Gloucestershire might come into my
district, I readily went into theirs. But 1
soou found the ordination had given umbrage;
and though I endeavoured to explain the de-
sign of it to be as a fence against intrusion
into the ministry, as of long establishment, in
the christian church, attended with evident marks
of divine approbation, and suited to the well or-
ganization of christian society; it was considered
in a different light, rather subversive of the spirit
of godliness, than conducive to real good. One
of the preachers was a Baptist, and he had pri-
vately diffused his notions, with some success;
a consequence was, that my baptizing infants,
though I performed the ordinance with great
tenderness to those of opposite sentiment, gave
offence, and the offended absconded from my mi-
nistry. Without assigning the reason, they first
deserted the ordinance of the Lord's supper, and
afterwards the preaching. How many are there,
who, over-heated with party-zeal, omit to culti-
vate the meekness and gentleness of Christ, and
deny to others the claim they make for them-
selves the claim of private judgment; and in-
stead of living in the exercise of christian charity,
are cherishing animosity. Such persons read their
Bible with a blind partiality, and they are not to
be won by the most courteous deportment. It
gives them a kind of diabolical pleasure to know,
that they grieve the spirit of the man against
whom they set themselves.-In hopes that I
PANI I.]
127
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
might see better days, I continued to bear with
their weakness who were reprehensible, giving
place to the services of my brethren, to whom
my opponents were more partial.
At Castle-combe and Chippenham, I met with
more civility; but little disposition to render my
life comfortable, or to conform to the order I en-
deavoured to establish among them. At Rodbo-
rough, Dursley, Wotton-underedge, and Frampton,
in Gloucestershire, my visits were acceptable and
useful. Every one of these places was a field
for much action. In each place, I administered
the ordinance of the Lord's supper, as often as
the several societies judged it necessary, or found
it convenient to receive it. I grasped at retire-
ment as I could catch it; but was often intruded
upon, and the nature of my studies being disco-
vered, subjected me to much reflection. I should
have been much more acceptable to some descrip-
tions of our friends, if, instead of endeavouring
to acquaint myself with science and language,
I had indulged long conversation upon what
amounted to nothing; and instead of spending a
few minutes had wasted many hours. I now and
then, but seldom, saw London; and always had
access to the Tabernacle pulpit when there; nor
was the Tabernacle pulpit at Bristol shut against
me, but no invitations were given to me, as to
others, to supply it. As often as possible I re-
turned to my little apartment, at Christian-mal-
ford, but while, notwithstanding the hard mea-
sures I received from some of its leading mem-
bers, I enjoyed it in preference to every place
upon the globe, it was not possible, for want
of subsistence, that I should continue there more
128
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
than a few days at a time, and then my hours
were divided between the other two congrega-
tions. The malcontents continued to stand aloof,
and I felt it very unpleasant to labour under the
disesteem of a people who had received the fullest
proof of my attachment to them.
Though I had been often grieved, and was much
neglected by several of the leading people in the
Methodist congregations, my affections were far
from being alienated. My method of preaching
was found fault with, as too orderly and exact;
yet it always was attended by audiences respecta-
ble for number. Could I have moved regularly,
and have commanded necessary retirement, I
might have put up with a variety of inconvenien-
ces; but I often took very long and unnecessary
journeys; and the plans usually settled at Rod-
borough, on the first Wednesday in the month,
were often innovated. I was now entered into the
thirty-fourth year of my age, and while on a re-
view of the last twelve years, I had reason to be
thankful for an evidence of God's gracious accep-
tance of my very imperfect services, and for the in-
stances I met with of their having been useful, I
had cause to be humble, and could not help feel-
ing myself shocked, on conviction, that I had,
though unavoidably, neglected necessary pursuits.
I considered that I was now in the meridian of
life. My confidence in my present connexions be-
gan to weaken, and I felt much inclined, if Provi-
dence should admit, to become a resident minister.
On conversing with Mr. Sloper, of Devizes,
with whom I had commenced a very steady friend-
ship, which had stood with increasing affection,
PART I.]
129
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
for more than three years, he referred me to Marl-
borough, and encouraged me to make it an object
of attention. I was struck with it, as being con-
tiguous to my friends, with whom, notwithstand-
ing hard measures received, I wished to continue
in the bonds of friendship, and judged it would
be a situation favourable to frequent interviews.
Accordingly I made myself acquainted with the
people, preached probationary sermons, and being
accepted by the universal consent of the people,
I commenced the relation of pastor to the church,
which had been organized by the judicious di-
rection of one of the senior professors, who had
seen religion in that town pass under various revo-
lutions.
As soon as I could see the probability of my be-
ing connected with the congregation at Marlbo-
rough, I communicated my intention of with-
drawing from Christian-malford, and its connex-
ions the several congregations in Gloucester-
shire. The intelligence was not very pleasing. I
observed it was a resolution from necessity, and
for convenience; and that it was my wish to tes-
tify the continuance of my affection, by visiting
them as often as I could, and by making an ex-
change with their ministers, as opportunity offer-
ed. My most highly esteemed friend, Mr. Hill,
was not pleased by the event, but I presume he
saw the propriety of it. He introduced me to my
new charge, February the 2d, 1778, expressing
himself very warmly in my favour, and the next
morning he left me to prove the justice of all he
had said.
As soon as he departed, my soul was filled with
130
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
T
much distress, and an unusual gloom overspread
me. I began to suspect the propriety of my con-
duct, and to be apprehensive that I had stepped
out of the path of providence. I retired to pros
trate myself before the Lord, and intreated him
not to forsake me. In the exercise of prayer I
found relief; had a token for good from whence
I could conclude, I should not be left in my new
situation comfortless, nor useless. Hitherto the
Lord had brought me, and it was unavoidable but
that I must continue dependent upon him. I had
laid up nothing in store, and excepting a little
furniture and linen, and my little library, had no-
thing to bring with me to Marlborough. As I had
engaged to serve the people for 30 7. per annum, I
I was under the necessity to set out parsimonious-
ly. Mr. Whitefield's hints often occurred to me,
and as I had, previously to my settling at Marl-
borough, adopted them, so in the early part of my
residence there especially, they were of great ad-
vantage to me. It was well I had learned to be
contented with a little, and to habituate myself
to frugality.
By an exhibition obtained from the independ-
ent board, and now and then a present obtained
from my much honoured friend Mr. Thornton, I
was enabled to render a little assistance to the
poor, as well as to defray my own expenses.
I now more than ever found the want of a
greater share of literature. Marlborough is a high
church neighbourhood, and full of prejudice a-
gainst methodism, for under that appellation I
was considered, and many of its inhabitants are
men of letters: therefore, that I might not dis-
PART I.]
131
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
grace my profession through ignorance, any more
than by making an ostentatious parade of learn-
ing, I entered sparingly into company, conversed
with caution, and improved my time to the best
advantage. I had no notion of studying merely
for the sake of making myself an acceptable com-
panion; indeed, to go on with my design, it was
Becessary that I should preclude company. I
still kept the important object of an active minis-
try in view, which engrossed all my time. I
preached thrice on the Lord's day, met a society
on the Monday evening, statedly preached a lec-
ture on the Thursday evening, preached in the
country on Tuesday, or on Wednesday, or on Fri-
day, and very often had engagements on each
day in the evening, and on Saturday held a read-
ing and prayer meeting. From this rule I sel-
dom deviated, and at the same time held a cor-
respondence, of which I have before remarked
that it took up too much of my time, and divert-
ed me from more important pursuits in my young-
er years; latterly it has become indispensable.
Our congregations grew, and some good was
donc; but the prejudice of the neighbourhood
was very powerful, and the young people, as is
usually the case, imbibed it. Some indiscretions
previous to my settlement had created disgust,
nor were they entirely removed at my coming.
I found as I gained knowledge of my flock, that
I had need of patience, while I had cause for
thankfulness. I was not a stranger to the divine
presence, neither in my retired moments nor in
my public work. Always weakly, I felt the
weight of my office. I never gave myself to in-
[
ཐཱ
1
132
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
?
tense thinking, but with disadvantage to my
health; nor was it without a considerable degree
of languor, that I passed through the exercises
of the study, or the pulpit. The closeness of the
country-houses in which I preached, and the dif-
ferent changes I passed from heat to cold, had
a hazardous effect upon my frame, which, though
often shocked, has not been suffered yet to fall.
It has been matter of surprise to me that I have
been so little disabled, amidst such sensible.
weakness as I have experienced. Many great
men have fallen while I have continued to stand.
Sturdy oaks have been torn up by the roots, while
I, a shrub, have only been bent by the strength
of the wind. Why this difference, is best known
to Him who suffers nothing to occur by chance.
Our times are in his hands who hath given us
our work, and till our work is done, our day will
not close. Every star has its fixed period for
rising and setting. It has its hemisphere appoint-
ed to it, yea, and its orbit also. We move ar-
ranged in our places, and do the work for which
we are appointed: one shall not do the work of
another, but every man in his own order. It be-
comes us to watch the appointments of Provi-
dence, to walk in his paths, to take care we do
not clash with each other, neither to envy nor de-
spise one another; but in our respective stations
to act as the different builders in the same house,
who, by taking their respective parts in the same
edifice, aim jointly to bring the fabric to its per-
fection. You, my very dear friend, are an exact,
may you be a very successful workman, in his
hands, in whom
I am,
•
Yours, affectionately.
PART 1.]
133
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
LETTER XV.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
I TAKE it for granted, in what I have remarked
on the divine conduct with me, you conceived
that I have rather been stating facts, than com-
plaining of difficulties. Nothing occurred which
was insupportable; no disadvantage was thrown
in my way but was remediable. My first settle-
ment at Marlborough had many inconveniences
attending it, which a more liberal subsistence
might have prevented, and after a while, I judg-
ed they were only to be relieved by matrimony.
I supposed there would be a delicacy in address-
ing a person of property, myself being destitute;
and I conceived I should gain no relief by form-
ing a connexion with one in circumstances equal-
ly narrow as my own. I considered my advance
unsuitable to the commencement of family cares,
especially as I had no prospect of becoming con-
siderable in circumstances. I made it matter
of prayer, that I might be directed to a suitable
object by the good hand of Providence, which
had hitherto enabled me to steer my course pru-
dently. A friend, who well knew my sentiments
upon this head, and conceived them proper, en-
couraged my indulging attention to Miss Brown,
well known to the neighbourhood, whose respect-
able character and conduct procured her univer-
sal esteem. He introduced me to her. She was
supposed to be very affluent, from the great li-
berality she exercised to the poor, for which she
N
1
134
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
was enabled, rather from industry and economy,
than from patrimony, or from the considerable
profits she gained by a small farm, which, in con-
junction with her youngest sister, she rented and
superintended. When I had been repeatedly in
her company, and was satisfied with her genuine
piety, I addressed a plain letter to her.
After some little hesitation and objection, raised
only from the opposition my offer was like to meet
with from a numerous family, I found I had firm
ground upon which to advance. The opposition
arose from my religion, and the idea that I was
devoid of integrity, and an honest design. This
idea no encomium in my favour could remove.
Some little stratagem was used to prevent our
union, but I went forward with a fixed determi-
nation to enjoy my object, not doubting that time
would produce a conviction which testimony could
not, and that I should be a gainer in the end.
Therefore, on the 20th of April, 1779, we entered
into wedlock. We had previously considered
that our joint income, being about 55l. per an-
num, would not admit of our living in splendour,
and we had laid our plan answerable to our pit-
tance. By this we regulated our life, and expe-
rienced the blessing of the Lord upon it.
erected our altar for sacrifice as soon as we came
from church, upon which we then presented our
joint offering. We have continued regularly and
statedly in the presentation, and though it has
been attended with all that imperfection which
has rendered it unworthy of the notice of an holy
God, yet, for the sake of his ever blessed Son, we
We
"
PART I.]
135
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
have reason to conclude it has met with accept-
ance.
I supposed now, that I had before me my only
work in which I should be engaged, the work of
the ministry, which I determined, in the strength
of divine grace, diligently to attend, and I did
not suppose my family would consist of a third
person. But God's thoughts and purposes were
different to my thoughts and expectations, and
events occurred that set me at the head of a large
family in a very little time.
In the days of my itineracy, I had often said,
that if I were ever settled, I would give some
poor child a common education. Recollecting
my resolution, I fixed upon the eldest child of
our deacon, Mr. John Simmons, a poor, but de-
serving man; I taught him from his alphabet,
till he was made fit for business, into which I
was instrumental of introducing him, and in
which I believe he is now going on very pros-
perously.
In the first year of my marriage, I had occasion
to go to Bristol, and among others I called upon
Mrs. Higgs, one of my first acquaintance in the
city. She said, "I have long wished you settled
for the sake of Tommy," who was the youngest
of her two surviving children, then little more
than ten years old; "I expect," said she, "you
will now take him," adding, "I care not what
you do with him, if you will but take him." He
was a sweet amiable child, who had enough in
him to attract my affection. I signified my at-
tachment to him, and that I had not the least
objection to receive him, but that I was not sure
+
+
136
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Mrs. Winter would accept the offer; however, I
proposed to take him upon a Christmas visit, with
a design to return him again, if Mrs. Winter would
not consent to keep him. The dear little fellow
accompanied me with all readiness. On our part-
ing, Mrs. Higgs said, "I give him to you." I
replied, "I accept the gift," little thinking what
was to be the event. His engaging and open
conversation every step of the way home, in which
he gave strong indication of a mind under some
pious influence, rivetted him to me. Every
friend I called upon was fond of him, and when
we came home he was universally noticed with
esteem. His pious disposition, which I certainly
cherished, was improperly ascribed to my care of
him. This induced Mrs. Turner, of Trowbridge,
to press a favourite nephew upon me, whom I
very reluctantly accepted, not because he was un-
worthy of my esteem, but because I feared to
have more of a tutor's business in hand than I
was equal to. Mrs. Turner conceived, after a
while, her nephew had caught the flame of piety
from my lamp, and reported such high things con-
cerning me as impressed a gentleman of Bath;
and by this I was drawn into an extreme diffi-
culty. I used every method consistent with pru-
dence to divert his attention from me.
We were
as yet a little happy family indeed. The children
loved our worship, had been used to my ministry,
could be taken with us on a journey;
sang comfortably with us by our fire-side, en-
tertained us by their prattle, and ran upon our
little errands; but by taking the sons of a gen-
tleman, I conceived I should take children used
they sat and
PART I.]
137
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
to a superior line of life, rather unfriendly to our
religious views, and in other respects very unsuit-
able to me. My intimate neighbours, to whom
I had communicated the difficulty I was under
from the gentleman's unwillingness to receive my
refusal of his sons, pressed me very much to in-
crease my number to six, observing I should find
my account in it.
Had I been convinced in my own mind that I
should have done right in opening a school, I
could easily have collected scholars, and by pro-
viding a proper assistant, should have made the
business easy; but, from the small acquaintance
I had with letters, and the little confidence I was
inclined to place in men, I could not be convin-
ced I did right, nor could I be satisfied that it
was prudent fully to state the reason of my refu
sal. Committing the event to God, and knowing
that I designed his glory, I yielded to the gentle-
man's motion, who fixed the day for his two sons
being at Marlborough. They came accompanied
by the good mother, who was so disgusted at the re-
port of my being a Methodist, and by the plain-
ness of my accommodations, that she took them
back with her immediately to Bath, without as-
signing a reason, or giving me an opportunity to
exchange three words with her. This affair was
attended with a little shock, which, owing to the
shattered state of my nerves, I was not able to
bear, and it occasioned my neighbours, who were
all out at their doors, to conjecture the cause.
But I was soon reduced to a state of composure,
and concluded it was the way Providence used to
prevent a greater trial. In a few weeks after,
A
い
​i
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138
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
however, the young gentlemen were brought back
by the good lady's consent, and the connexion
issues in permanent friendship with the eldest
brother, who hath given me opportunity to show
my attachment to him for many years, and has
proved himself worthy of my most cordial esteem
by many pledges of his own for me. Accident-
ally, I have laid my hands upon a few lines ac-
companied with two handsome volumes, sent me
by the above-mentioned young gentleman, soon
after we parted; which may be considered as the
beginning of a correspondence, and I think it a
tribute of respect due to him to insert it here.
« SIR,
"I HAVE not time at present to write a letter,
but only a line, to inform you that I shall never
forget the many kindnesses I received while un-
der your care, and beg your acceptance of the en-
closed as an acknowledgment of them."
It bears date September 1, 1783. At my re-
quest he was then removed, but returned to me
again by his own earnest desire. He now fills a
benefice in the establishment, and may he long
continue to fill it, and preach that gospel, the
truths of which he acknowledges to have received
while at Marlborough. You may conceive of his
continued esteem by the following extract from
one of his letters:
"After a long interval of silence but not of
forgetfulness, I again break in upon you-forget
you indeed I cannot; for whenever I enter my
pulpit, or sit down in my study, I find myself
7
PART I.]
139
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
expressing ideas I have learned from you, and
which bring with them the remembrance of my
much respected friend." Speaking of the libe-
rality which should subsist between the church
and the Dissenters, and the true nature of wor-
ship, he says, "You know, and I feel this: for
from you I learned it, and I am often happy that
I have passed a part of my life under your roof,
as it has prevented me from imbibing many illi-
beral and unjust prejudices, which several both
in and out of the establishment are got to enter-
tain." "I have just attentively perused your
letter again. Every kind exhortation that comes
from your pen, has its full weight upon me, and
I hope God, of his infinite goodness, will enable
me to follow it." The writer of the above was
one of twelve, whom I had together at one time.
Of all of them, it may be remarked they were
fine youths-they engaged the esteem of the
neighbourhood, and gained me credit-they were
as my own children. They enabled me to keep
a cut loaf, and a running tap for the poor. If
I recollect the fatigue, I recollect also the plea-
sure I had with them, when I could keep them
to business-when I was witness to their progress
-when their voices were engaged in the praises
of God-when their innocent conversation at the
table gave vivacity to my spirits, particularly af
ter a third public service on the Lord's day, when
they contributed to relieve me from the sensi-
bility of weariness, and when dismissing them to
their rest, I received proof of their affection, and
embraced them in my heart while I pronounced
upon them the blessing of my lips.
140
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Mr. Higgs was my primus. I had laboured to
make him useful to me, and he was essentially so.
He grew in stature and in knowledge. He was a
constaut, and I believe a willing attendant upon
the means of grace, and very feclingly entered in-
to the spirit of the sermons he heard. I encourag:
ed his views of the ministry, and promoted his
preparation for it, by a liberal education; conse-
quently, though he was my right hand, as soon
as I had carried my exertions to the uttermost, I
knew it was my duty to part with him. But his
parents were not equal to the expense, and by the
advice of Mrs. Verbruggen, the lady who for a
time made one of our family, he was sent to Lin-
gen, in Westphalia, from the mistaken notion that
his education would be more completely finished,
and at a far less expense than at one of our uni-
versities.
I went with him to London, and there com-
mended him to God. It was intended that he
should continue at Lingen two years; hut after
the absence of little more than half a year, I re-
ceived him again. This was owing partly to dis-
appointment to what was our object; but princi-
pally to his own extreme dissatisfaction, founded
in causes of moral and religious complaint, both
in the seminarium and the university: nothing
could be more licentious than the habits of the
students, while a dreadful dearth of every thing
good prevailed. Previously to his return, which
was October the 30th, 1786, I had been diligent
in securing him clerical friendship, to enable him,
in proper tine, to enter the establishmen¹, to
which his turn of mind led him. I thought I
PART 1.]
141
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
could do him service by introducing him to my
highly respected friend, the Rev. Mr. Spencer, of
Wingfield. He kindly acceded to my motion,
and made him upon very easy terms, pro tempore,
one of his family. There, and at Marlborough, he
spent his time till he entered Oxford, which was the
close of the long vacation, 1787.
How wonderful are the ways of Providence.
That all the mortal part of the dear youth, with
whom so many pains had been taken, should have
been in the silent grave at a time when we ex-
pected he would have been in the full vigour of
life, proclaiming the truths of the gospel of the
grace of God, is one among the many mysterious
events that call for submission. It is with pecu-
liar satisfaction I reflect that you, my dear friend,
are continued a blessing to a part, a large part of
the church of Christ.
I am, yours, &c.
LETTER XVI.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
Ir sloth in any department of life be a blemish
to a character, it must be a very dreadful oue in
that of a minister; but a minister may be free
from the charge of sloth, and yet not perfectly
busy. To spend the hours and days in composing
a few scrmons, smooth and elegant to the ear,
which should be employed in preaching many
with energy to the heart, is a waste of time. Of
many good men it may be said they are "labori
142
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
ously doing nothing;" whereas if they would
study usefulness, they would give many of these
moments to public labour, that are now devoted
to unnecessary exactness. The thought applies
to country ministers who are surrounded with vil-
lages, but communicate the gospel of the grace of
God to none of them. When there are real and
insurmountable impediments to exertion, a man
is free from the reflection; but if circumstan-
ces and situation favour diligence, and a man
is not diligent, he is inattentive to the direction,
"work while it is called to-day." Village preach-
ing is of importance to usefulness. I am glad
such powerful efforts are now used to support it.
To carry it on, was always an object with me. I
diligently attended to it while I was at Marlbo-
rough, but my attention to the school, and the
studies to which I was obliged to turn my mind,
in order to discharge my duty in it, relaxed my
attention to this important object. I therefore
wished I had it in my power to support a young
man of pious character, and of improvable gifts,
who might receive my communications, and by
preaching in the villages, habituate himself to
free speaking. Though the idea of such a per-
son was in my mind, I knew not where to look
for him, and if I had met with him, I was at a
loss to know how I should support him.
Mr. Surman, an excellent youth in humble
life, always engaged my notice when I preached
at Dursley; and I seldom left the congregation
without exchanging a word with him; but as I
hardly ever had time upon my band, we did not
abound in conversation. Being upon a visit in
·BART I.] ·
143
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
Gloucestershire, in the Midsummer of 1782, and
having appointed on a Lord's day to preach at
Frampton, entering the court, I unexpectedly
saw him. Instantly I had an impression for
which I cannot account, that I must take him
to impart instruction to him, and to introduce
him into the ministry. I desired him to meet
me in my retirement; I was under such a fever
that I suspected at the same time I should be laid
aside. I begged him to read the Scriptures to
me, by which I found his deficiency. I asked
him if ever he thought of the ministry. He re-
plied, he had; but could not indulge it, as he
concluded there was no opening in Providence.
I proposed his coming to me under certain terms,
which he approved of, if he saw, on prayer and
deliberate consideration, it was the divine will.
When his mind was fully satisfied, he acceded
to my motion, settled his affairs with great integ-
rity, and gave himself first to the Lord, and then
to me. Surely I may venture to call that an act
of faith, which was engaged in under what I
conceive to have been a divine impression; and
for the prosecution of which I had no prospect
of support. The event has shown it was of the
Lord. Mr. Surman soon proved a very accepta-
ble and useful minister, and a very consistent
character. For the sake only of giving hira an
opportunity to learn the world, I sent him upon
a pleasurable excursion to London, where his
preaching gained such attention, that in less than
three years after he came to me, he was provi-
dentially taken from me, and yet lives a bless-
ing to the church at large, and to a particular
L
144
MEMOIRS OE C. WINTER.
1
society, more immediately, at Chesham in Bucks,
over which he was ordained pastor. May his life
and usefulness be prolonged.
Soon after Mr. Surman came to me, Mr. Yock-
ney, of Warminster, signified his desire to retreat
from secular life, to devote himself to the preach-
ing of the gospel. He was already blessed with
rich experience, and of decent education. Giv-
en up to God, and fond of retirement, he made
the best use of a little time, and by his assiduity
in my absence, I was released of anxiety about
the school, as the best care was taken to keep
my little folks to business, and the devotions of
the family, by these two good mer, and Mr.
Higgs, were regularly carried on. As Mr. Yock-
ney purposed paying for his board, I had no dif
ficulty about accepting him. He was happy and
useful with me, till removed by Providence, and
soon after obtained a settlement at Staines, in
Middlesex, where abundant honour continues to
be put upon his ministry.
It was at this time our services were required,
and freely given in the village of Tisbury, that
gave you birth. Several months previously to
the 2d of April, 1785, my eye was upon you, my
dear friend, more immediately than upon any
other in the congregation, and my heart knit un-
accountably to you. Making inquiry concern-
ing you of Mrs. Turner, she mentioned your name
with the anecdote which distinguishes you in
her life. I told her I was impressed with an idea
that I should one day have you under my roof.
You having perfect understanding of all things
from the very beginning, can trace the occur-
PART I.]
145
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
rences of this period respecting yourself. You re-
collect the number and the order of our family,
and the worthy female friends which made part
of it. How applicable to the description of our
happiness and harmony is this stanza:
The day glides swiftly o'er their head,
Made up of innocence and love;
And soft and silent as the shade
Their nightly minutes gently move.
To all that was kind and amiable in you, my
dear friend, under God, we were, in part, indebted
for that happiness. You contributed your quota
to it, and had your share in return. O blessed
villages, which were favoured with your respect-
ive ministerial abilities! O highly favoured Marl-
borough, whose streets were then occasionally
thronged with them, who went to and from the
house of God, and had their hearts filled with
joy and gladness! I bless the Lord for all that
he since has done for you, and by you.
Mr. Spicer must not be forgotten. He came
at the desire of his uncle into our family, and
is worthy to be had in remembrance, though af-
ter a long and fair trial, it was found, that large
as his capacity was, his want of elocution pre-
vented his acceptance. He stands high in my
esteem, and is, I believe, the beloved of the
Lord.
The editors of the Evangelical Magazine, Vol.
v. page 47, have given the life of Mr. William
Griffin-a truly valuable life, and with this con-
cise and general testimony, I refer to his biogra-
phy. Besides our stated times of devotion, our
}
..
>
146
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
V
To
breakfast and tea readings were considerable, nor
were we wanting in recreative conversation,
rise early and retire early, was one of our maxims.
Our pa tings and meetings proved we were in the
bonds of friendship. The Lord made us to be of one
mind. But we became scattered in time; and
the weight of the school resting entirely upon
me, from a necessary regard to my health, which
was much impaired, I became determined to break
it up.
About this time my affairs began to wear a dif-
ferent aspect to what they had done, and a variety
of occurrences disposed me to think of leaving
Marlborough. I soon began to feel that in giving
up my school, I had given up such a measure of
my substance, that my circumstances were in dan-
ger of being involved. I was quite at a loss for
a while to determine what to do. I had devised
many things, but could bring none of them to
bear. I felt reluctant at leaving the place where
I had laboured hard. The neighbourhood at this
time was reconciled to me, but not to my ministry.
My sole success had been with the poor. A most
dreadful failure had turned out, which had ru-
ined one of the principal families who attended
my preaching. By interfering to prevent a mar-
riage which I conceived would prove injurious
to the parties, I had made an enemy of one of
my first professing friends; and a circumstance
in addition to the whole, turned up to convince
me I must remove. The meeting-house was the
private property of Mr. H-k, from whom I
received 107. out of the 30%. per annum, for which I
stipulated. He was very rapidly going to the
PART. I.]
147
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
--
grave. His sous were by no means like-minded
with him. The eldest of them continued his at-
tendance upon the word in general. Having
one Sabbath-day evening a very crowded con-
gregation as I usually had, and knowing the dis-
sipated state and disposition of many of the
young people, I preached a very plain, faithful
sermon. It was certainly all applicable to Mr.
II—k; but I did not think of him, nor did
I know he was there. However, he considered
it as a personal address to himself, aud protested,
when he went out, he would never hear me again.
I saw that I must soon decamp, or sink into a
most uncomfortable situation. I had an attach-
ment to Devizes, and supposed Mr. Sloper, who
knew it, would have been disposed to keep me in
Wilts, the state of his health requiring assistance,
for which his people were able and willing to
provide. I had been in long friendship with
him, had shown him sympathy, and rendered him
help, under many of his domestic and church
trials. A friend from Gloucester had been with
me, to whom I frcely communicated my difficul-
ties. He gave me cncouragement to make an
offer of my services to the church and congre-
gation at Painswick, in the county of Glouces-
ter. This was a county to which I was partial,
but I held myself bound by the fidelity of friend-
ship to Mr. Sloper, not to take a step without
first consulting him. He signified he could not
advise me what I should do, and referred me to
the leadings of Providence. I was then in a diз-
abled state, under a fit of the gout. I wrote to
my friend in Gloucester, to say that if the church
148
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Ї
at Painswick were disposed to give me encourage-
ment, I had no objection to put myself in the
way of their notice. I had given warning to
quit my house, without knowing whither I was
to go at that juncture of time the congregation
at Painswick were so disunited in their sentiments
of a gentleman who stood candidate for their ser
vice, that he withdrew his motion, and on the
mention of my name, they unanimously agreed
to accept me. An occurrence of Providence that
much impressed my mind was this: Mr. Edwards,
of Stratford upon Avon, being about to leave his
people, and going upon a probationary visit to
Wilton, pressed me to pay a visit to Stratford.
I cugaged on my return, to preach at Painswick,
and while upon my journey, wrote to Mr. Han-
cock, signifying my design of leaving Marlbo-
rough, stating my reasons, and appealing to him
for the propriety of my conduct. But before my
letters could reach his house, he was almost sud-
denly removed into the cternal world. This in-
formation reaching me by a letter from Mr. Higgs,
threw light upon my steps. The house, which,
during my residence in Marlborough, had been
always open to me, and from whence many
vours had been communicated, was on the father's
death instantly shut against me by the heir; nor
would he permit me, though invited by the rest
of the family, to accompany the remains of his
father to the tomb.
fa-
The long acquaintance the people at Painswick
had with me, and my preaching being so fully
known by them, made them indifferent to a pro-
bationary visit; though, strange to tell, for a faith-
PART 1.]
149
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ful hint, misunderstood and misapplied by a
ruling elder, I had been excluded from the same
pulpit seventeen years! The good old man,
whose authority barred me out, has ever since
our connexion been a staunch friend, and we
have lived together in the strictest amity. He
had long held the reins of government in the
church, and was strongly prejudiced against Metho-
dists, of which description he had considered me.
He had been inortified by contradiction; but a-
midst all his prejudice was of too great inte-
grity to indulge war, and experience has taught
me, he was to be won by prudence and patience.
As soon and as quietly as I could, I disengaged
myself from Marlborough, but with vast pain of
mind when the crisis came. I had some distress
on Mrs. Winter's account, who had never before
left the vicinity of her birth-place, and by the
change of her situation, was withdrawn from a cir
cle of affectionate relations, particularly from her
sisters. Yet I had reason to be thankful on per-
ceiving her strive so magnanimously against her
feelings, and on her complying so readily with the
motion of Providence. On balancing my accounts,
I found myself in arrears, and my removal was at-
tended with an expense considerably above what
was allowed me. A deplorable disaster attended
my goods in removal; but the co.nbined trials
were attended with a combination of suitable
mercies, on the review of which fresh gratitude
arises in my mind. A disposition to trust in the
Lord was granted me at the time, and I knew by
experience the import of those words, "Thou wilt
keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on
02
150
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
thee." I had just succeeded in procuring Mr. Higgs
his college subsistence. It being the time of his
long vacation, he was with me, and was very use-
ful in assisting our removal. By visits to his
school-mate, Mr. Horlick, he well knew Painswick;
came a little before us with Mr. Spicer; and on the
2d of August, 1788, received us on the spot where
I am now writing. It is a farm, the property of
Mr. King, to whom I have above referred. It is
beautiful for situation. It is half a mile on the
north of Painswick, and six miles south-east of
Gloucester. It was offered me as a temporary ac-
commodation; but I told my friends if they could
make it convenient to let me dwell by them, I
would seek no other. In an habitation at one
end of the farm-house, the dimension of the prin-
cipal room of which is thirteen feet in width,
fifteen in breadth, and six feet eight inches and at
quarter in height, I lose sight and sense of every
inconvenience, as happy as I can be in this mor-
tal state, in the advantage of peace, fresh air, and
retirement. Mr. Higgs says to his brother, in a
letter soon after our settlement," I am charmed
with the solitude of Mr. Winter's situation. I see
nobody here but the family; I have no companion
but my books. I cannot describe how happy we
Little did he think he was to be gratified,
and that so soon, when, with his pencil, he wrote
upon the wall of the room where he slept and
studied,
are."
"Hic ipso tecum consummerer ævo."
I perceived no indisposition upon him, till a little
before he returned to college. The day he left
PART I. •]
151
HIS OWN ACCOUNT,
4
us to enter upon his term, he was not quite well,
nor alarmingly ill. I have no letter by me that I
can find, previous to the 29th of October, inform
ing me of the increase of his indisposition; but
in consequence of information from Miss W
his elect, of his being indisposed, I wrote to him:
"MY DEAR THOMAS,
-e,
"IT has given us no small concern to hear, by
letter received on Saturday from Miss We, of
your indisposition. It would have less surprised
me, if I had not previously heard on Monday, that
the disorder in the head and eyes prevails very
much. Yet that does not alleviate my fear from
the fits returning upon you, as I find you have
had them more than once. I have been led to
account for it from some shock you received in
Bristol, from your father's situation, and other fa-
mily occurrences. I may be out in my conjecture.
If I am not, I would request you not to dispirit
yourself. It would hardly be right to desire you
not to feel the loss of a parent, supposing I could
regulate your passions; but any little disappoint-
ment that may attend, of a pecuniary nature, need
not discourage you, as no doubt but the resources
which close at home, will open abroad. If you
are in God's way he will provide, and bring you
through the difficulties of college expenses. While
you perform the part of a faithful steward with the
pittance you have, more shall be given you as it
is needful. Let us know as soon as you can, how
you do and write freely of all that is upon your
mind. No more of your letters shall transpire
than may be necessary to give your friends plea-
152
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
?
sure to hear from you, is gratifying to us all on
this peaceful spot. I hope by this time you are re-
stored to the use of your sight, as well as to your
former degree of strength. It is a loud speaking
Providence to be so afflicted, and I am persuaded
you are disposed to improve it. Since we hold
every faculty upon such uncertain terms, how
careful should we be to improve them to his glory,
who gives them freely, and can deprive us of
them at a moment's warning, or even without
warning at all. Let your attention in future be
much employed in the Scriptures. Transcribe
them from the leaves on which they lie open to
the eye, into the book of your heart. You will
find your want of them for your own personal
comfort, and for your ministerial furniture, if you
mean to work upon your own stock; that is, if by
meditation, and not by plagiarism, you prepare for
the pulpit."
I might have spared my advice for the pulpit
employ. He was worse than I apprehended. A
gentleman of his hall became his amanuensis,
and in his name, writes thus, in reply to the last
extract:—“ Since the reception of yours, I have
been so indisposed, as not only to be unable to
write, but even to dictate a letter. My disorder
is considerably increased. On Monday last I had
four epileptic fits, which have left behind the m
a very nervous affection. I sometimes began to
think that Providence intends to cut my work
short here, and to take me from this world of mi-
sery. Patience must have its perfect exercise,
and I desire complete resignation to the divine
will. It certainly is a great affliction to be de
PART I.]
'153
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
prived of the amusement which reading affords.
Oh that I had used my time better when I had it
in my power! One of the most disagreeable symp-
toms of my disorder is a palpitation of heart,
from which I am scarcely ever free. The hap-
py time will come when it shall cease its throb-
bings. As soon as I have kept my term, which
will be next Monday week, I intend going to
Bristol, and to put myself under the care of Doc-
tor Ludlow. Miss W. e will accompany me
to Bristol, and if I recover my strength, we in-
tend coming together into Gloucestershire."
On the 20th of January 1789, I received the
last letter he ever dictated.
"HONOURED AND DEAR SIR,
You will perceive that I am yet unable to
write, and when I shall be able is very uncertain
indeed. We have been long expecting you in
Bristol, but imagined the rough weather, or some
unforeseen circumstance, prevented you. No friend
ever comes more grateful to our family, but more
particularly to me. As I am sometimes ready to
imagine I shall need little more of your kindness,
I have reflected a good deal upon the abundant
measure I have already received. I hoped Pro-
vidence would have afforded me opportunities.
of showing my grateful sense of them: if it should
not, be assured they were not lost upon me. My
whole frame is much out of order, my eyes very
little, if any better, since you heard from us last;
I dare say you will think my situation very me-
lancholy. Confined to my fire-side ever since the
Christmas week, with my eyes so dim that I am
154
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER..
unable to read, or write, or see any thing distinct-
ly; a painful setou in my neck, my mouth much
affected with the mercury I have taken, aud my
legs swelled for want of exercise. You will think
my case very hard, and be ready to condole with
me. But spare your pains, my dear sir, I grieve
not for myself, I have not an uneasy thought.
The reflection, that it is not a thousandth part
of what I deserve, makes me resigned to the dis-
pensation, though gloomy, and I adore the di-
vine mercy, in preserving me from the pains of
hell. The physician has just been here, and has
ordered another seton to be cut in my temple to-
morrow; it is a painful operation, but it is of the
Lord, let him do what seemeth him good. If we
meet not again here, I hope we shall in a better
world, where separation will no more take place.
"I remain,
"Dear Sir,
"Yours, affectionately,
"THOMAS HIGGS:""
On the receipt of the above, I went to Bristol,
and found him as he described himself, with other
serious symptoms upon him. He seemed very de
sirous to come to Painswick, and with difficulty
effected the journey, in the beginning of Febru
ary. I sent for Miss W. -e, also, which was a
great gratification to him. She nursed him with
great tenderness and modesty, and was a painful
witness to his drawing his last breath. He was
frequently very cheerful-but not very commu-
nicative. He engaged sometimes in family pray
er; and when his pains were not severe, was ve
PART I.]
155
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
ry attentive to any one who read to him. In
the evening previous to dissolution, he exclaim-
ed with an innocent soft accent, rather as sur-
prised than terrified, "Oh dear! I have entirely
lost the use of my limbs." Finding he could enjoy
the recumbent posture on neither side, I fixed
myself on the holster, and supported him between
my knees in my arms. It pleased him, and now
and then we exchanged a word. Grateful ac-
knowledgements frequently proceeded from him
for kindness received. Soon after he said, “ Oh
dear, I am going!" and without a struggle he
instantly became a corpse.
It has been asserted that a stranger cannot feel
like a parent, but I deny the assertion. Oh, how
did I feel when I relieved my arms from the dear
youth, who knew no more of an uneasy posture!
Before that decisive moment how many anxious
fears filled my breast, lest his mind should be be-
guiled. How earnest were my exertions to pre-
serve that spark alive, that I was desirous to see
advance to a flame. Disappointed in my expec-
tation, I was ready to say, I have laboured in
vain, and spent my strength for nought, and in
vain. But reflection corrects the conclusion.-
Oh no, it was not in vain. Ile is not a minister
in the church, but he is a saint in light. He was
exceedingly beloved by his associates at Edmund-
hall. A circle of them, with whom I breakfast-
ed, told me in his absence he was an honour to
their society. His tutor in a letter he wrote to
me, in return to that wherein I announced his
death, says, "I sympathise with you very sincere-
ly on the loss of this amiable youth, whose good
156
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
:
་
example in our society, will long be remembered
with pleasure and sorrow. From the little pro-
bability of his restoration to useful life, I consi-
der his removal from this state of suffering, as an
instance of that mercy, on which he was enabled
to build his hopes. The will of the Lord has
been done by him; however the fond expectation
of short-sighted men have been frustrated, I am
persuaded he has not lived in vain."
In all this you have an opportunity to review
the life of him, whom divine sovereignty saw
fit to cut off in the flower of his days—you are
- spared, and long may you be spared if it be God's
blessed will, after the hand that guides this pen
can no more admit of my subscribing myself,
My very dear friend,
Yours, affectionately, &c.
LETTER XVII.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
I HAVE brought you within a very few paces
of my progress, and if, in travelling through the
former pages, you find it tedious, you may now
proceed with pleasure from the idea, that af
ter a very few steps more, you will have a long
halt. You have frequently, yet not so often as
I could wish, seen me in my cottage of content,
where my motto would be, if I were to put it
over my door, "Parva parvum decent." But as
I came to Painswick, not to please myself, but
to finish the work my heavenly Father gave me
PART I.]
157
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
to do, I proceeded according to the opening of
Providence. At my first coming, I collected a
class of children and young people, among whom
I opened catechetical lectures. I was not con-
tented with exact answers to the questions of
a prescribed formulary; but I wanted to prove
the attention and the genius of the children, and
to discover if there were any principles of grace,
that, under proper nurture, would appear to ad-
vantage. As well, therefore, as teach them the
Assembly's catechism, I asked them questions ex-
tempore, and often received such pertinent and
significant answers, as rejoiced my heart. By
this means I singled out several, of which number
was Mr. Wood, who, while in a course of educa-
tion for the ministry, died with me, and of whom
there is a short account in the Evangelical Maga-
zine, vol. ii. page 207 :—Mr. Hogg, of truly amia-
ble disposition, and who is now just entering the
establishment:-Mr. Clift, of Frome, who, with
an improved understanding, started early, and has
hitherto worn well. About the same time I re-
ceived from the Devizes, Mr. Sloper, now useful
and happy at Plymouth. I was uncertain of help,
but confident it would be granted, as there was oc-
casion for it. Mr. Welch, by your motion, in-
trusting me with the care of three students upon
his own foundation, I placed Mr. Clift and Mr.
Wood upon it, and applied to Mr. Gulding, late of
Croydon, to come as the third. Blessed be God, I
have lately been witness to his growth, and per-
ceive he is ripening in his gifts and in his grace.
By the motion of the late Mr. Thornton, I took
Mr. Griffiu, who with the greatest credit passed
P
158
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
!
his three years with me, in diligence and useful-
ness; and is well known for the very respectable
and useful manner in which he acquits himself
in the pastoral charge at Portsea, Hants. I might
mention Mr. Underhill, who was determined to
be with me almost upon any terms; but, alas!
though he did run well, he is hindered, and he
is the only one of all the sons I have brought
up, in whom I cannot rejoice. Disengaged in
the order of time from these, I thought, now I
could do no more to serve the church of Christ
in this way, and proceeded to accommodate myself
to the retirement of the study, and the exertions
of the pulpit, till my mind received a further im-
pression in favour of Mr. Richardson, who is my
faithful Achates. He is the fruit of my ministry,
endeared by his steady and uniform deportment.
It was with more than former caution, I watched
to be satisfied that it was right to call him from
tools to `books; but when fully satisfied, I pro-
cceded upon the old plan; he is now with me,
as a son with a father, and it appears as though
our separation will not produce a distance of more
than thirteen miles. His gifts have made him an
object to the people of Frampton, with whom I
think he will settle and be happy.
In the complete eleven years which have re-
volved over me since I have been here, I have
met with little in my pastoral connexion to dis-
turb or afflict me. Family differences, personal
prejudice, and some instances of immorality,
have proved a source of affliction; but these, and
a few other proofs of human imperfections except-
ed, I am surrounded with a poor, simple, pious, -
}
1
PART I ]
159
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
affectionate people, who contribute willingly,
though slenderly, according to their ability, to
my subsistence; and for whom I will very gladly
spend, and be spent.
I have more reason to be thankful for, than
to complain of the attention shown to my minis-
try. Though death and incidents continually
occur to produce changes in our congregation,
it continues respectable for number. The inha-
bitants of the town have their strong prejudices
against the system I hold myself bound to sup-
port; and the preaching of it out of the church,
renders it additionally obnoxious. Yet they show
respect to my person. I am indeed in a station
of mercy, which I have no disposition to exchange
for another. I have my times of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord, in the congregation, in
the family, and in the study. No one can con-
ceive, after a third service on the Lord's day, my
mind having been free in my work, and having
had reason to conclude the word has been made
a blessing, with what joy and tranquillity of mind
I return to my mansion in miniature. It affords
me all I want till I get where there are rivers of
pleasure. I realize a few lines I have met with
in Pope, and which I a little alter, for the sake
of expressing what for full eleven years I have
enjoyed.
"Here humble joys of home-felt quiet please,
Successive study, exercise, and case;
Here I most sweetly pass my tranquil days,
And would devote them to my Saviour's praise."
160
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
I am within two months of entering my fifty-
eighth year. Infirmities, to which I never was
entirely a stranger, press upon my constitution,
and weariness resulting from almost every degree
of exertion. On reviewing papers necessary to be
inspected to bring this memoir to its conclusion,
I find fourteen years back, I was exercised with
the same symptoms as beset me now-but the Lord
has been my support, and having obtained help
of him, I continue unto this day-I am amidst
all capable of reiishing life, but I would not by
the enjoyments I am capable of, and with which
I am indulged, be bound. Rather I would in-
dulge a desire to depart and to be with Christ,
and would wait for his summons. Whenever it
may please him to call me hence, I expect to meet
with acceptance only in my Saviour's righteous-
ness. All my salvation is in him; independent
of him I am nothing, and hope for nothing. My
deficiencies are many, but I would not indulge
one of them. Each, as discovered, is a cause of
mourning. Nothing that I have done, or that I
can do, will afford me satisfaction. The whole
is the effort of an imperfect and an impure crea-
ture, whom it becomes, in gratitude, to study to
advance the glory of God, by whom he is made
a monument of grace, by whose kind providence
he has been supported and preserved, and who
remembered him in his low estate.
To God-the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and
Jacob, I commend you, my very dear friend.-
That he may be your God for ever and ever, aud
your guide through a very long life, even unto
a late and easy death; aud that your yoke-fellow
*
-
PART I.]
HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
161
and offspring may abound in the blessings of Provi-
dence, in the exceeding riches of grace, and with
you finally partake of eternal glory, is the prayer
of,
Ever yours,
Painswick, August 17, 1799.
Affectionately, &c.
P 2
*
м
具
​♦
"
፡
TO THOSE GENTLEMEN
IN CIVIL LIFE, WHO WERE ONCE UNDER THE CARE OF
THE REV. CORNELIUS WINTER,
AS SCHOLARS;
AND MORE ESPECIALLY TO ALL THOSE IN THE
CHRISTIAN MINISTRY, WHO ENJOYED THE
UNSPEAKABLE ADVANTAGE OF HIS
TUITION AND EXAMPLE
AS STUDENTS;
THIS ATTEMPT,
TO DO SOME JUSTICE TO A CHARACTER, WHICH, AS IT IS
IMPOSSIBLE FOR THEM TO FORGET, SO IT IS
HOPED THEY WILL ALWAYS ENDEAVOUR
TO RESEMBLE;
IS INSCRIBED,
BY ONE WHO IS DESIROUS TO FEEL HIMSELF
THE OBLIGATIONS OF WHICH HE TAKES THE
LIBERTY TO REMIND OTHERS.
4
W. J.
་་
MEMOIRS
OF THE LATE
REV. CORNELIUS WINTER.
*
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
Ir
T has been seen by the date of the preceding
letters, that Mr. Winter's account of himself,
leaves near nine years of his life unnoticed. He
was often urged to carry on the relation; he in-
tended it but it was delayed till the purposes
of his heart were broken off. It remains there-
fore for the Editor to take up the narrative, and
bring-it down to the closing scene; and this can
be done much more easily than the recovery of
any earlier periods of his history. Indeed, the events
that require particular notice are not numerous.
In November, 1800, he met with a very pain-
ful affliction, which confined him for a long time
from his public work, but gave him an opportu
nity to glorify God in the fires; and proved how
graciously qualified he was to suffer all the good
pleasure of his will. He thus describes it in a
166
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
letter to a friend. "The accident happened just
after I had left a venerable dying woman, whom
I had been to visit. After proper conversation, in
which I found much heavenly refreshment, we
prepared for prayer, by reading the 12th chapter
of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Every word was
precious; but the 9th, 10th, and lith verses came
with such light and energy to my soul, that I
could have immediately preached from them.
The matter of my prayer far exceeded the sick
woman's case. I prayed that God would prepare
us for whatsoever he had prepared for us, and
made a particular resignation of myself into the
Lord's hand. It was a very heavy, rainy, night.
I was at the bottom of a declivity, upon the plain-
est ground. I never walked more cautiously: but
my foot slipped, and the master-bone of my leg
was broken in two places.'
""
The fracture appeared extremely remarkable,
as he did not strike his foot against a stone; nor
bend his leg under him; but fell upon his back.
He was near a mile from his house; and as the
only chaise in the town was absent, he was con-
veyed home in the best vehicle that could be pro-
cured. Many followed the cart with tears, to his
cottage. He was taken out, and laid upon the
bed—but before he would allow the surgeon to
proceed, he begged that all might be permitted
to come up into his chamber.-He then offered
up a prayer with such composure, and with such
particularity, entering into all the cases which he
commonly noticed in family devotion, that it will
never be forgotten by any who heard it.
What the state of his mind was, will appear
PART II.] HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
167
from the following extract of a letter to the Edi-
tor, which he dictated a very short time after.-
"I need not tell you that the consequence is con-
finement upon the bed, in one posture, and very
acute pain. But through the goodness of God, I
have an experience to relate that redounds much
to his glory; and if I was not disaffected to the
egotism, I should use it much upon the present
occasion. Shall I venture to tell you, that I am
a stranger to murmuring and impatience; that I
am in a state of entire resignation; that I have
given myself quite up to God and to the surgeon;
that though I may groan in the dead of the night,
it is merely to sooth the pain; and that I can
sooth it better by prayer and praise, and reciting
the word of God, than by groaning! I have dis-
missed all anxiety from my mind. I, who am
naturally impatient of suffering, had as much hap-
piness as I was capable of containing the night af
ter the accident, and ever since have known no
sorrow. The reason is that, through grace, I am
the heir of promise; and as is the promise, such
is the veracity of him that hath made it. His
promises are apposite to our excrcises, and when
the trial comes, then comes the fulfilment, at least
to such a degree as the exigency renders necessary.
As I am overwhelmed with a sense of the good-
ness and mercy of God, so I am with the sympa
thy and kindness of my neighbours in general, and
my friends in particular. There is much mercy
in the dispensation that I cannot exemplify нроn
this paper. I believe it is the prevention of some
great evil, and that it will be productive of some
great good. But, though I have thus expressed
168
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
་
myself, I remember I am yet in the body, and not
out of the reach of the enemies' temptations,
which may put dimness upon the pure gold, Jand
cause me to be the very reverse of what I de-
scribe. While I think I stand, I hope for grace
to take heed lest I fall; and as our continuing
constant in prayer is instrumental of security, so
to be aided by the prayers of others, I esteem a
very great blessing. Pray for me then, my dear-
est friend, as I do for you. The petition of the
present moment is-Lord, keep all his bones, that
not one of them may be broken.”
He continued to feel and display the same spirit
through all the months of his confinement. Faith
and patience had their perfect work. All who
were witnesses of the affliction, were powerfully
impressed by this passive preaching; and the sur-
geon who attended him, more than once made a
remark to this effect" Till I visited this man I
thought religion was only a mere opinion, or some-
thing to talk about; but if I am not happily pos-
sessed of it myself, I am now convinced that there
is a reality and excellency in it."
At length, by the use of his crutch and his
staff, he was enabled to reach town, and by sitting
in the pulpit, discharged again all the three ser-
vices of the day. Enervated by his affliction,
preaching at this time appeared to him very for-
midable, and he often thought he must resign it.
But it was rendered a blessing, and the congrega-
tion was enlarged.
Owing to the increase of hearers, and also the
decayed state of the place, it was deemed desira-
ble and necessary, to rebuild the meeting on a
Part II.] HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
169
larger scale. The people, by all their exertions,
could only raise a small proportion of the sum re-
quired for this purpose; the remainder was to be
obtained by an application to the religious public.
This called him forth as a beggar; and few of this
order ever met with so much encouragement and
success. His name had prepared his way. Many
rejoiced to honour his case personally, and to re-
commend him to their connexions; and the diffi-
culties which arose from his modesty and reserve,
were more than counterbalanced by the prompti-
tude of friendship.
But these excursions not only proved how high
he stood in the esteem of thousands, numbers of
whom he had never seen before; but gave him
opportunities, which otherwise he never would
have enjoyed, of an interview with many of his
old friends, and of seeing the grace of God in the
various churches, by which he was made glad.
The journies, however, were often tiresome and
painful; and in a multitude of applications, he
sometimes met with repulses which his tender
spirit would very sensibly feel. The want of more
rest and retirement was also frequently trying.
But he was determined to persevere, and rejoiced
in the thought, not that he should have a better
local accommodation for preaching than before,
but that he should leave a place convenient, large,
and unincumbered, to a successor. This he often
mentioned with evident satisfaction, accompanied
with the remark, that it was not probable he
should occupy it long himself. It was opened on
the 13th of June, 1804.
"Blessed is the man that endureth temptation."
Q
•
(
+
・
170
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
i
2
The word intends every thing by which grace is
tried; and this applies not only to distressing
events, but also to prosperouз ones. Many have
endured indigence and calamity, who have been
sadly injured by a successful change in their cir-
cumstances. But the deceased had on the armour
of righteousness, on the right hand and on the
left. As when afilicted, he was not swallowed up
of over-much sorrow, so when indulged he was
not exalted above measure. He could say with
Paul, "I know both how to be abased, and I
know how to abound; every where and in all
things I am instructed, both to be full and to be
hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I
can do all things through Christ, which strength-
eneth me."-It had been scen how he could suf-
fer, it was now to appear how he could possess.
An addition was made to his income, which,
though it would have been inconsiderable to ma-
As I wish to
ny, was far from being so to him.
make the subject of these memoirs as much as pos-
sible, the writer of them too, it will be proper to
insert here a few extracts from his letters, relative
to this affair.
To his esteemed friend, Mr. Pe, of Stroud,
who had been once his pupil, he writes-“ Mrs.
Shepherd, to whose kindness I am indebted for a
competent subsistence, was a fellow orphan with
me in the same family. She gave herself at a
proper time to Mr. Shepherd, who was a man as
poor as herself. By a series of events they pros-
pered. But our friendship was broken off for ma-
ny years, owing to a fraudulent act in which they
both were guilty, having taken advantage of a de-
++
PART II.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
171
fect in her uncle's will; and I never was in com-
pany with him after. I provoked him sadly the
very year he died; he might have put an effectu-
al caveat against my ever inheriting his property.
He left every thing to his wife; and when making
his will, he said to the attorney, that she had a
cousin whom he knew she would take care of.
She sent for me up to London, in August, 1803,
desired that we might support friendship, and be-
fore I left town, made her will in my favour,
leaving only a legacy of 10l. to a neighbour. She
had a wish to live with us, arranged her affairs
accordingly, and wonderful to say, came to us on
the 7th, and died on the 9th of June, at the very
hour she had entered the house. She had settled
all things so exactly, that no man
ever had less
trouble in taking possession of property than I
have had. It will be little more to me neat than
150/. per annum-a great estate to me, who have
all my life-time been in narrow and uncertain cir-
cumstances, and will make me easy to whatever
period God may see fit to continue me here, and
will enable me, if I precede Mrs. Winter to the
eternal world, to leave her comfortable. The
more I review the Providence, the more I am fill-
ed with astonishment. I am thankful, but not ele-
vated; and think myself highly responsible to
the Giver of every good gift, who remembered
me in my low estate, and in my latter years has
dealt so bountifully with me. I have no change
to undergo; I shall neither eat nor drink more,
nor wear better clothing; yet I would rather lay
out than lay up.”
In a letter to Miss C, Bristol," By this
!
.172
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
affecting Providence I am carried above necessity.
My conscience obliges me to restore a sum of
which I knew a widow had been unjustly depriv
ed, and which therefore makes a part of the pro-
perty; whether, after this, it may make me worth
1507. per annum, I cannot say; however, I pre-
sume it may be something towards it. I receive
it with great solemnity of spirit, rather than with
elevation, and adore the hand that has committed
it to my trust. It is given rather to improve to
the good of others, than to devote wholly to my-
self. My case is the reverse of hers who said,
"I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me
home again empty." I entered life empty, aud
provided with the blessings of his goodness, I
close it with the enjoyment of bread to the fuli."
Addressing his very dear friend Mr. Le,
of Wm, Shropshire. "Had she died in Lon-
don I should never have received her whole pro-
perty, as she lived among thieves. Her coming
to Painswick with intention to live, and dying ex-
actly on the four and twentieth hour after her
arrival, is an event that exceedingly affects me
whenever I think of it. The change it has pro-
duced in my circumstances is truly humbling in
my mind; elated I cannot-I would not be. Lit-
tle did I think while we were entering Wor-
cester, and I was mentioning to you the proba-
bility of my surviving Mrs. Shepherd, that her pro-
perty would so soon fall into my hands; but thus
it is, that God is often thinking of, and providing
for us, when we are least apprehensive of it.-
Blessed be his name, I have never known what
anxiety for futurity is; but under narrow and
PART II.]
173
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
I do
uncertain subsistence have dwelt at ease.
not now find an additional want, I have no altera-
tion to make in my mode of living; but as the
steward who is required to be found faithful to
the talent intrusted to his care, I wish to impart
of the favour imparted, and to consecrate it to God,
from whom I have received it."
No person ever acquired a fortune with so
little envy. Every one rejoiced at the intelli-
gence, and the joy was as sincere as it was gene-
ral. He derived indeed little or no personal bene-
fit from it; it is questionable whether he had
upon the whole so much coming in as before,
since casual gratuities from various quarters now
failed-people having a quick sagacity in discern-
ing that a man no longer wants their assistance-
while the number of applications and depend-
ents multiplied. Imagining himself however in-
dependent in his circumstances, he resolved to
alienate his ministerial salary to the support of an
assistant, whom he deemed necessary, both fron
the state of his congregation, and his own grow
ing infirmities. In consequence of this he was
led to resume a work which he had declined for
some years, and engaged two more students.—
These were Mr. Lane and Mr. Daniel. While
they relieved him from one of the services of the
Sabbath, they added to his mental fatigue by his
attentions to them in the week; but he rejoiced
to see that his labour was not in vain. They :
both became very acceptable preachers: Mr. Dan-
iel is fixed in a scene of activity and usefulness
at Kingswood, near Wotton-underedge: Mr. Lane,
after being compelled by threatening symptoms
Q 2
174
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
参
​i
*
to refrain for a season from public exercises, is
likely to settle at Wells. These were his last
pupils.
The following two letters will serve to render
this account more satisfactory, while they express
feelings that do him honour, and apprehensions
that were, alas! too soon to be realized.
The first was written about two months before
his seizure, and was addressed to Mrs. S――r, of
Bs, who had been much with him previous
to her marriage, and for whom he entertained a
paternal regard.
"MY VERY DEAR DAUGHTER,
"I SIT down purposely to write something to
you-I wish it may be something profitable, for
otherwise a letter is nothing worth. The occur-
rences of the day come of course to be mention-
ed. You have heard we have left the hill, and
answer the purpose of a tent by residing where
Miss Loveday used to reside. Mrs. spent
upwards of a month with us here. Could she
have been reconciled to all the inconveniences
of an invalid family, she would have been cordi-
ally welcome to have staid till Christmas; but
our mode of living is so very different to hers,
that I do not think she was quite comfortable.
The fact is, "that my fortune is reduced below
the expected sum per annum, by the change it
underwent, and the taxes it is under, so that
though in itself a great blessing, economy is re-
quired in the use of it, especially as I have many
mouths to feed upon it besides those of our own
family, that I may not entangle either it or my-
PART II.]
175
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
self. I have a turn for a little elegance, but I
must dispense with it, content with ordinary
things and common decency. I see my mercies
more than my disadvantages, and desire that
murmuring may never take the place of the great
gratitude due daily to the God of my life. I am
disappointed in not seeing more genuine religion
produced by my labours. Some I hope fear God,
and walk before him, but many are so irregular
in their walk, that I fear for them. I hope mat-
ters are different at B-s. I find the short
time since I was there, has produced changes.
Some have quitted the stage of life, and left vacant
seats in the house of God; others are removed;
while instability has turned away a few, yet our
dear friend has a considerable number, by which
his hands are strengthened. O that they may
be his present joy and his future crown of rejoic-
ing. How surprised I was to see him so full and
fleshy. He credits his soil, his pantry, and his
nurse. May you, my dear daughter, be long con-
tinued to be his comfort, and may his life be coe-
val with yours, that, at a very late period, you
may both have such a retrospective view of life
together as will excite a repeated tribute of praise.
I need not say daily consecrate yourselves to
God. Keep the mind heavenwards; let your
friends see that you live upon the suburbs of the
celestial kingdom. Do not let the world engross
you in any degree. Whether it smile or frown,
be alike indifferent to it. Conceive of it as it is
fleeting and uncertain. Take the refreshments
provided for and suited to the pilgrim, but do not
set up your rest where you should only bait. Pre-
3
176
MEMOIRS OF C. WInter.
pare to meet your God. I hope to bé regulated
according to the advice I give. I have need;
the full allotment of the life of man is pretty
near its period, and decay discovers itself, if not
so perceptible in the countenance, yet in the feel-
ing of the loss of spirits and strength. Were I
in the vigour of my days, inattention to the eter-
nal state, would be unallowable. How much
more is it at three-score and five. But with all
the infirmities and imperfections of nature, not
to say sins, I can truly say, my desires are ever
towards the Lord; and I would be on the con-
stant look out for my great change, and be daily
waiting for my dismission, rather than be taken
up with the trifles of sense-whatever conse-
quence the world may give to them. Will
the world ever be wiser than it is? Very weighty
are the measures Providence is using to make it
so. The judgmen s of the Lord are abroad in the
earth, and our nation is like to feel the force of
them. A great deal of distress now prevails.-
Failures in this neighbourhood are incessant.-
They who were considered wealthy are reduced
to the greatest straits, and the trade that is car-
ried on, is so depreciated, that it is asserted, the
manufacturers cannot get a living profit. Such
is the state of things, and consequently the poor
feel exquisitely. My good wife is as well as may
be expected, and so is Mrs. Tyler, to whom we
are much indebted for her kind exertions. They
unite in salutations to you and my son, from
whom I shall be ever glad to receive a line. If
he will commission you to use his pen, and you
PART II.]
177
MIS LIFE CONTINUED.
will accept the commission, it will be equally
and very acceptable to,
"My very dear daughter,
"Your very affectionate father,
“Painswick, Oct. 16, 1807.”
"C. W.
The other was addressed to Mrs. S——————r, Bir-
mingham, and was written only a month before
his death.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
"It is so long since I wrote to you, that I am
ashamed to think of it. You are nevertheless of-
ten in my mind, and I set you upon the list of
my old friends. I am yet in life, yet in the house
of God, yet engaged in the ministry of the word.
But I am waiting for the change when I shall
rank with perfect society in the world of blessed-
ness, where we shall see no war, nor hear the
sound of a trumpet, nor have hunger of bread,
as is the case with many of our dear brethren on
the Continent, and would have been as dreadful
ly so with us, if God had punished us as our sins
deserve. I am getting old and feeble. I am be-
fore my years in constitution, and have been e-
ver since I was a child. So trying I find the mi-
nistry, and so many trials have I with my people,
that I have been tempted to give it up. But yet
I dare not. Be thou faithful unto death, is a peal
in my ears, and turns the inclination of the mind.
It has been the lot of others, as well as of myself,
to have their labours defeated, and to be pained
with the worst of all disappointments. A few
178
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
years will deliver me from my pain, and convey me
to my rest, and I hope it will be found that how-
ever great the ground of my complaint is, that all
the labour is not lost.-Our neighbourhood is and
has been for some time a neighbourhood in afflic
tion.—Mr. and Mrs. B—r are in the situation
where I was at the hill, and I with my good old
woman are at the brow of the town, a very short
distance from our place of worship, where we shut
our eyes at the inconveniences we sustain, thank-
ful for the conveniences we enjoy. My good
wife is in cheerful blindness, desirous of inward
illumination. Mrs. Tyler is as well as may be ex-
pected, passing her days in devotional retire-
ment, and acting as far as she can in Mrs. Win-
ter's stead. Both unite in affectionate salutations
to you. Do you find increasing encouragement
from your attention to the school? Do the walls
of prejudice in any degree fall at L-d? Per-
severe my dear friend, though under discourage-
ment. Some good may arise from your endea-
vours that may diffuse itself to posterity. A little
stream may convey downward a great mercy, and
from your maintaining your ground, the barren
wilderness may become a fruitful field. Accord-
ing to this idea I am led to keep my station. The
work has derived but little advantage from me;
may it greatly increase, by the instrumentality of
another, when I am in the grave. Wherever
there is to be found one given of the father, the
Son will make his claim to him, and find him out,
and according to this truth will be the success, or
non-success, of the ministry. What news does
B—m afford? Do the Miss W's appear
PART 179
IIII.
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
.]
benefited by the means of grace? Their being so
will prove a great satisfaction to you, as the con-
trary will be your affliction. I hope Mr. W
is prudent in his management of them, and that
by his being near to God, he will communicate
something to them that shall remain with them
for ever.
I hear different tidings from W-y,
but I hope in the main the work of God is going
forward in both departments of the church in
that place, notwithstanding the late awful instan-
ces of human depravity. Do, my dear friend, let
us hear from you soon. As I suppose Miss W
is with you, I take the liberty to send my christian
salutations by you, and remain,
"Yours, affectionately,
"In our dear Lord Jesus,
"Painswick, Nov. 6, 1807."
"C. W.
CHAPTER H.
HIS SICKNESS AND DEATH.
MR. WINTER was much older in constitution
than he was in age. His strength 'was never con-
siderable; but for a length of time previous to his
removal, he had been generally complaining, and
frequently so indisposed as to render the discharge
of his work trying and difficult.
December 13th, 1807, he exchanged pulpits
with Mr. Jeary, of Rodborough. This was the last
Sabbath of his public ministry; and two things
180
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
are observable. Here he preached his first sermon
in Gloucestershire; and thus he ended his career
in this county where he began it. And his con-
cluding discourse was II. Corinthians, v. 1. "For
we know that if our earthly house of this Taber-
nacle were dissolved, we have a building of God,
an house not made with hands, erernal in the
heavens."-The congregation was peculiarly im-
pressed. Many said he seemed to be preaching
his own funeral sermon. So it proved.
He slept that night at Mr. Hogg's. In the
morning he came to Mr. William Cooper's, South-
field house, Woodchester, and offered, if agreeable,
to spend the day, and take a bed with them. In
the afternoon as Mr. Cooper was writing to the
Editor, he wrote on one part of the sheet-
"MY EVER DEAR FRIEND,
« THOUGH I have nothing particularly to com-
municate, I have wanted to write. A long si-
lence is hardly consistent with the reciprocal re-
gard that subsists between us. I sometimes hear
of you that you are pretty well; sometimes that
you are but indifferent. I hope the former is
more generally the case. I rejoice in your accept-
ance; and trust the result of your labours is use-
fulness in all the variety for which the ministry is
appointed. I wish I could give you a pleasing ac-
count of myself, but I cannot. My powers of late
have been much shut up, like water frozen, rather
than like a flowing stream. Indeed I have been
very, very, very poorly, and when I am forced to
preach, it is in a way that is very dissatisfying to
myself. My voice fails ine, and you may judge of
PART. II.]
181
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
a sermon that is without voice, as well as without
energy of mind. But what is to be said of an ex-
hausted candle? The lower it burns the dimmer
the light. I have been tempted to give out, yet
knowing that where I do not stand in the way of
another, I ought to stand as long as I am able; I
resist the temptation hitherto. When you have
an half hour's leisure let me hear from you, and
give me all the good news you can.
"Yours ever, and very affectionately,
"In our dear Lord Jesus,
"C. W."
In the evening he seemed tolerably well, and
prayed with his usual excellence. But in the
night he was seized with a bilious fever; and
though he came down in the morning, he was
obliged to return to bed, and continued much af-
flicted all the day. In the evening of Tuesday,
Mr. Payne, of Forest Green, visited him, and af-
ter an hour's interview and conversation, prayed
with him. He said that his friend, who had pe-
culiarly referred the issue of the affliction to the
Lord's disposal, had precisely expressed his own
wishes. Though the night was restless and pain-
ful, in the morning he rose and came down, and
expressed a wish that was not to be diverted, to
go home. His friend conveyed him to Painswick
in his carriage, and Mrs. Cooper accompanied him.
Before he left the house he said, "I cannot leave
you, ma'am, without my blessing." He kneeled
down for the last time in this abode of friend-
ship; but so exhausted was his strength, and so
low was his voice, that he could not be distinctly
Ꭱ
182
DIEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
L
7
}
heard by the servants, who were more remote from
him; and so overpowering was the effect of dis-
ease, that he was scarcely able to say any thing
all the way to his house. Yet after he reached
home nothing seemed very alarming, and for some
days the physician was not called in. During
the week of his return he wrote to a friend: “I
was arrested in my progress, and brought home a
prisoner. I write from my bed to inform you of
it. I did not know on Tuesday morning but I
should have seen the Judge of all. I have no
prospect of coming abroad soon. The Lord sanc-
tify all his dispensations, and it will be well with
us, however severe they be."
Hence, on the 28th, he wrote the following
note to William Cooper, Esq.
"MY DEAR SIR,
"By a poor man who stops a few hours at Mr.
Hillman's, I thought it right to drop you and
Mrs. Cooper a line: it only expresses the grateful
sense of your kindness to me, not only during my
confinement at your hospitable mansion, but for
conveying me home. I have been a prisoner ever
since, but it appears the hour of release is ap-
proaching; and, I hope, if no relapse comes, on
Sabbath day to resume my services in the congre-
gation. I have reason to be thankful for a mind
kept in perfect peace, and for such visits of mer-
cy as amount to an indication that the Lord has
not been dealing with me in anger. Oh, my dear
sir, how desirable it is to be weaned from this
world, and to die to it, before we are called to die
out of it! Reason and religion concur to remind
1
1
>>
PART II.]
183
HIS -
LIFE CONTINUED.
me that I cannot be long here; a respite I may
have, a reprieve I cannot expect; that which sin
has made terrible, the redecming love of the
Lord Jesus has made delightful.
"To die is gain, and to be kept at a distance
from death is therefore in reality a disadvantage—
but it is not without its accommodation to them
who live unto the Lord. That you and Mrs.
Cooper may be richly accommodated with grace
till you are meetened for glory, is the prayer of,
"My dear sir,
"Yours, in the bonds of the gospel,
"C. W."
"Mr. Jay bears in mind his obligations to you,
and, Deo volente, intends performing his promise.
Kind respects to Mrs. Wilks, and hope Mrs. But-
ler is in merciful circumstances."
Before we quite leave Woodchester, and to an
ticipate a little for the sake of avoiding repetition
-The mansion that had entertained the deceased
a few weeks before, welcomed the Editor when he
went to attend his funeral solemnities. This cir-
cumstance produced what is here inserted, and
which would not have been made thus public,
had it not been to gratify a friendly request.
It was impromptu; the sudden unstudied lan-
guage of the heart, which it was deemed unfair
to alter.
184
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Written, and left in the chamber in which Mr.
Winter was seized for death, at the house of
William Cooper, Esq. Woodchester.
AND was it in this house of peace,
Of friendship and of love,
WINTER, the Man of God, recciv'd
His summons from above?
With lamp well trimm'd and burning bright,
And loins begirt around,
In waiting posture long he stood,
To hear the welcome sound.
Born from above, and thither bent,
And longing for the skies;
How sweet the voice that met him here,
And softly said, "Arise!"
And, ripe for bliss, to him ere now
This call had long been given---
But he, the joy of doing good
On earth, preferr'd to heaven.
The world, the church, the young, the poor,
Ah! these detain'd him here---
For us he pray'd, he preach'd, he liv'd,
And pour'd the friendly tear.
Hence, wing'd for heaven, he linger'd still,
Nor was in haste to fly---
But having taught us how to live,
Would teach us how to die.
"My Father," cried Elisha, when
Elijah left the earth---
And THOU hast claims to filial love,
As strong as those of birth.
A son of thine, dear saint, here kneels,
Thy shining flight to trace ;
And bless'd, could he thy mantle eatoh,
And share but half thy grass.
|
PART II.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
When Jacob on his journey slept,
And saw the ladder near ;
The top of which e'en pierc'd the sky,
And God was standing there ;
"How dreadful is this place," he cried,
"How sacred is the ground!
Here have I seen the house of God,
The gate of heaven found."
Inmates or guests! whoe'er you are,
That in this room may lie,
Remember---here our WINTER slept,
And here began to die.
185
To return to Painswick-He had collections
of his papers brought to him, and inspected them!,
destroying, as well as preserving many. He re-
marked, that it was unreasonable for him to give
his surviving friends so much trouble. It would
appear, from hence, that he deemed the time of
his departure was drawing on, even though he
might be permitted to visit the house of God
again. What the state of his mind now was,
the following letter will discover. The Editor
sets a peculiar value upon it, because it was not
only the last that he received from his ever dear
and honoured friend, but also the last that was
written by him.
"MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
"THE morning after I wrote to you, I was
seized with a cold shivering, followed with a vio-
lent bilious fever, and this attended with an in-
flammation in my right leg, froin which I have not
the least relief. The fever continues to lurk in
me, and I am a complete invalid. Hitherto I
R 2
:
186
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
have had such pulpit help as the neighbourhood
affords, but it is too inconsiderable. I have an
inclination to make an effort to come abroad next
Lord's day, but it is very doubtful whether I shall
be able, but if I do, I fear I shall not be capable
of collecting matter that will be a stay to me, so
barren is my mind and inadequate to fixed thought.
I have been a long time out of order, and my
limbs exceedingly affected by every little damp
which has come to them. My mind amidst all
is calm and placid, and I am desirous that the will
of the Lord may be done in the issue.
We are
sure the Lord does that which is right, and how-
ever exercised we may be with pain, it becomes
us to live in the exercise of submission. What
if this be the presage of dissolution? I hope to
consider it the presage of release from sin and
its effects; and that, through the grace of our
adorable Jesus, I shall attain to the full salvation
which his sufferings and death have made sure.
I am pleased at the good account you give of
William. May you escape the pain arising from
undutiful children, and have all the blessings ari-
sing from obedience and affection. My love to
Mrs. Jay and the family.
(6
"I am,
My very dear friend,
"Affectionately yours,
"In our dear Lord Jesus,
« C. W.
Painswick, Dec. 31, 1807."
This was written in bed; and being finished,
the hand, which the writing proved was begin-
1
PART II.]
187
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
{
ning to forget her cunning, laid down the pen
for ever.
The relapse of the disorder increased its vio-
lence, and seemed to threaten mortification in the
right leg. His friends had now every reason to
fear the result, and if prayers and tears would
have retained him, "Our brother had not di-
ed."
There would have been nothing unsatisfactory
if the life of such a man had closed in silence.
We are prone to lay too much stress on a few
dying expressions. Yet the words of departing
saints are precious. They convince and they
encourage.
Such stupefaction did the last stages of the
disorder produce, that the dear deceased had not
many intervals in which he could command the
use of his reason. His benign and venerable
countenance was viewed with the most sympa-
thetic interest, while he was sleeping away the
hours that kept him from the joy of his Lord.
Even his mild and gentle rambles were all
in character with the man; and each lucid mo-
ment was filled up with prayer, thanksgiving, and
friendship. He often mentioned his connexions
by name, attended with some devotional expres-
sion. Every time he took refreshment, or medi-
cine, he verbally implored the divine blessing.
On the Wednesday night previous to his dissolu-
tion, being asked by his nurse how he was, he
replied, "I am a little languid, but I bless God
that he has brought me thus far, in such an easy
manner." Soon after, he desired the three first
chapters of the Epistle to the Philippians, to be
**
188
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
។
read to him. He paid particular regard to those
passages that speak of ministers and people in
their relation to each other. He said, "He had
laboured for the young, but feared he had not been
very useful; yet he hoped the good effect of it
would hereafter appear."
""
He said, "If God were to refer the event of
the affliction to me, I would refer it to him again.
I feel to this world as a weaned child."
On Friday one of his brethren, Mr. Bishop, of
Gloucester, visited him. When told that he was
come, he lifted up his eyes and hands with sur-
prise and pleasure. Mr. Bishop said to him, " I
hope, sir, that you are happy?" He replied, “Yes.
"YES."
His friend added, "It is but a short step from
earth to heaven:" with a feeble, but distinct
voice, he echoed, "A short step," and then ad-
ded, "I have sought the divine glory more than
my own interest. I am closing life as I began it.”
His eye-lids then fell his voice ceased-and
death seemed rapidly approaching.
Many acknowledgments of a similar nature
were uttered, which, as is 100 common in these
cases, the aftendants did not secure at the season,
and could not accurately recover afterwards.-
Indeed the affectionate and devoted creatures
significantly remarked, they "Did not know that
one thing he said was better than another; it
was all alike-so heavenly-it was heaven to be
with him."
The Sabbath was now come that was to end
in the rest that remains for the people of God.
In the morning he prayed," Lord, bless and unite
my people." Soon after, he suddenly cried out,
PART II.]
189
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
"He is my salvation, he is all my salvation."
About eleven o'clock he exclaimed, "I am rea-
dy, I am ready, I want to go home." Soon after,
when one of his friends looked upon him, and
asked him how he did? He replied, "Like a dy-
ing man; may the Lord bless you, and your
family." He inquired, as some of the family re-
turned from worship, the state of the congre-
gation, and was pleased to learn that it was
large.
A little before eight in the evening he said,
"Tell my good wife, I am going." He then
stretched himself out, laid his arms at length up-
on his body, and indistinctly said, "Come Lord
Jesus;" and without a groan, fell asleep.
Tuesday morning, January the 19th, was the
period appointed for his interment. For several
hours before the service began, numbers were as-
sembled together. More than thirty ministers,
of various denominations, were present on the
solemn occasion. While the coffin was within
view of the congregation, Mr. Bishop, of Glouces-
ter, delivered a funeral sermon from the charao
ter given of Hannaniah, "He was a faithful man,
and feared God above many." The reflec
tions were as interesting as the text was pertinent.
As soon as his remains were laid in the vault
beneath the pulpit; a very able and characteris-
tical address was delivered by Mr. Jones, of Chal-
ford.
The
Few services were ever so affecting.
place was a Bochim, a place of weeping. Painful
as it is to attend such a scene, there is a kind of
melancholy pleasure blending with it. To min
>
190
biks or c. WINTER.
с
५
gle with a multitude drawn together, not by cu-
riosity, not by the ostentatious pageantry of death,
but by esteem and attachment; to witness une-
quivocal, as well as numerous proofs of departed
worth; to see one turning aside to heave a sigh,
another raising his streaming eyes to heaven; to
hear, as you withdrew, the short but significant
eulogiums from many a quivering lip," Ah! he
was a good man,"" I have lost a friend indeed."
"I shall never find his like again."-Yes-all
this affords a mournful satisfaction.
And what
attendant will ever forget the mixture of grief
and gratification he suffered and enjoyed when
'this man of God was carried to his long
home? Few men were ever adapted to inspire
an affection at once so powerful and tender.-
There are characters we venerate, that we can
hardly be said to love. The apostle has made a
difference between the impression produced by
righteousness and goodness: "For scarcely for
a righteous man will one die, yet peradventure
for a good man some would even dare to die.
It is goodness that makes one man a god to an-
other; we are only to be won by kindness: they
are the cords of love, by which hearts are irre-
sistibly drawn, and indissolubly bound together.
Who, therefore, that knew Mr. Winter, can
wonder at the sensibility his loss produced. The
´intercourse of the friends that assembled in his
own house previously to the funeral, was carried
on by looks and tears, rather than words. When
the procession came out of his dwelling, the spec-
tators that lined the street, all melted into emo-
tions of grief. When the corpse entered the
PART II.]
191.
HIS LIFE CONTINUED
chapel, and when it was laid low in the dust,
the audience could hardly be restrained within
the bounds of decency-all seemed to feel and
to verify the words of our great moralist, "The
blameless life, the artless tenderness, the pious:
simplicity, the modest risignation, the patient
sickness, the quiet death, are remembered only to
add value to the loss, and to deepen sorrow for
what cannot be recalled."
Many who never heard him, came to bedew
his grave. Persons of religious sentiments, wide-
ly different from his own, opened their houses to
accommodate those who came from a distance.
The Rector, with a liberality of mind, and ten-
derness of heart, that did him honour, apologized
for his inability to attend, as he expressed it,
"The funeral of the ever to be lamented Mr.
Winter." Attendants who had waited upon him;
the driver at the inn who had carried him to his
house, when he fractured his bone, the coach-
man that had drove him home, when he was
seized for death at the house of his friend-all
seemed glad to remember, and to divulge, any
little kindness they had shwon him.
Two very impressive sermons were preached
in the evening of the day, by Mr. Lowell and Mr.
Thorp, of Bristol; and on the following Sabbath,
all the ministers in Gloucestershire agreed to in-
prove the Providence in their own congregations.
This was done also by his students, and by seve-
ral ministers in other counties. Two only of
these discourses were published, but the number
* The one by Mr. Bishop, of Gloucester; the other by Mr.
Bolding, of Fulwood, who had been one of his second clags
of pupils.
192
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
J
would have been considerably enlarged, had it
not been from a needless delicacy with regard to
the intended publication of his life.
Mr. Winter was only turned of sixty-five; but
his looks and walk had even long before, led ma-
ny to suppose that he was much more advanced
in age.
His person was rather above the middle
stature. He was inclinable to corpulency. His
face was marked with the small pox, but not dis-
agreeably so. His eye was uncommonly mild
and risible. His countenance was all benign.
There is no very good likeness of him. That
in the Evangelical Magazine did him no justice;
that in the Theological, disgraced him. The
image of his placid and heavenly features will
long remain in many a fond memory. May the
image of his character iemain longer still, and be
more vividly recalled-especially by those that
enjoyed the advantage of his tuition. May it be
present with them alone, and in company in the
family and in the church; may they be followers
of him as dear children!
An extract containing the preface to his will,
may gratify his friends.
"IN the name of God, Amen. I, Cornelius
Winter, of Painswick, in the county of Glouces-
ter, minister of the gospel, being of sound dis-
posing mind, memory, and understanding, thauks
unto the Lord for the same, do make this my last
will and testament, as follows: that is to say, I
commit my soul into the hands of God, gratefully
acknowledging his discriminating grace, of which
he made me an early partaker, and by which I
escaped many temporal and moral evils, and have
PART II.]
193
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
had life sweetened, and the trials of it rendered
supportable. Whenever it pleases him to call me,
I would die in a humble, but firm, confidence in
Jesus, as my Redeemer; renouncing all preten-
sions to merit, in any thing I have done, lament-
ing the imperfections of which I am conscious,
and many which my understanding has not dis-
covered, in hope of a blessed resurrection with
his redeemed people, in the day when they shall
be gathered together, &c.
CHAPTER III.
VIEWS OF HIS CHARACTER.
To consider Mr. Winter personally and rela-
tively, in private and in public life; to give, if
not a finished portrait, yet a sketch of his leading
features, so as to enable the reader to distinguish
and estimate his worth-is the design of this
part of our subject. And if the power of repre-
sentation were always the same with the posses-
sion of knowledge, the Editor might hope to suc
ceed; having had from domestic residence, and
the most unreserved intercourse and correspon-
dence, peculiar opportunities of acquaintance and
observation.
Let us first glance at Mr. Winter's TALENTS
and ACQUISITIONS.
He was not possessed of first-rate natural en-
dowments; but it is equally certain that he claim-
ed a considerable degree of mental superiority.
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194
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
WIN
His apprehension was quick, his judgment was ac-
curate; and his imagination, though not vigorous
and bold, was fertile and ready. No one could
more nicely or instantaneously discriminate the
defects or excellencies of a performance; but his
candour and self-diffidence generally repressed the
declaration of his sentiments. If genius be used
in a limited and rather modern sense of the word
as denoting peculiarity and individuality of,
thought and expression, Mr. Winter had a con-
siderable claim to it. He always lamented the
want of memory. It might be supposed, that a
man must be certainly conscious whether he is re-
ally deficient in this faculty or habit. Yet I am
persuaded the complaint is too general, and helps
much to produce the effect it bewails. The men-
ory, like a friend, loves to be trusted, and rewards.
confidence. No man will be satisfied who mea-
sures his power of retention by his wishes: and the
memory should not be censured because it does
not. lodge every thing it meets with, and which
would produce superfluity and confusion.-The
goodness of it very much consists in an instinctive
property, by which it throws off what is needless
and unsuitable, and applies only what is pertinent.
and necessary. And this was the case, at least, in
a great degree, with Mr. Winter: whether writing
or speaking, he never seemed at a loss for what the
occasion required, either to confirm or illustrate
his subject.
With regard to his learning, it has already
appeared that he was destitute of a classical edu-
cation, and began his ministry under very great
disadvantages. Though this could not be con-
PART II.]
195
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
sidered as his fault, he felt it as his affliction;
and never resembled those who depreciate what
they do not possess, and are not willing to acquire.
Never did a man more value erudition, in all its
various branches, and for all its legitimate pur-
poses; never did a man strive more patiently and
laboriously to gain literature. And his acquisi-
tions, considered in connexion with his circum-
stances, were eminent. He had more than a com-
petent knowledge of the original languages, and
read the Scriptures in them. He well understood
the Latin tongue*, and made proficiency in the
French. His acquaintance with general science,
though not profound, was extensive. He knew
no luxury so great as a book: his reading was con
stant and diversified.
Let us, secondly, notice him as a TUTOR.
Here we have to view him as the master of a
school, and as the president of an academy.
Nothing could have been more unexpected than
his introduction to each of these kinds of tuition.
For several years, while at Marlborough, he
had the care of youth intended for civil life.
The number of boarders was never very large, but
this was not for want of applications, which he
found it difficult to reject. With what views
and dispositions he attended to this branch of du-
ty; and how anxious he was, while qualifying
them for secular stations, to train them up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord, appears from
* The editor has in his possession his Latin correspondence
with Professor Warren, of Lingen, in Westphalia, during the
residence of one of his pupils under his care,
}
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196
REMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
*
the following extract of a letter written to the fa-
ther of one of his first pupils. "No pains shall
be wanting to prepare him for a life of usefulness.
The care of youth should be conscientiously un-
dertaken; and though I find it, with my minis-
terial services, a life of great labour, I can truly
say, I set myself to it with a deal of cheerfulness.
It may in some sort be considered as an observa-
tion of our dear Lord's command,
• Feed my
lambs.' If we attend to them wholly, that is,
to their souls as well as to their bodies, they will
not admit of our living an idle life. Happy they,
who, in whatever line of duty the Providence of
God places them, are enabled to perform the part
of a wise steward. You, as well as myself, and all
who profess the religion of the dear Lord Jesus,
are under an obligation to fill up our place with
a regard to his glory: but we shall meet with ma-
ny impediments, and they are not to be surmount-
ed but by watchfulness and prayer. May we con-
tinue in these sacred exercises; and be sure to con-
nect thanksgiving with them for all the mercies of
our lives. Many of these lie concealed under
trials and disappointments; yea, many of them
consist of these very things: they may be griev
ous to be borne, but they will prove profitable in
the end."
The pupil whom the letter concerns, in trans-
mitting it, referring to "the happy period" of
his being placed under his care, writes, "I say
happy, because though at the tender age of only
eight years, my memory still records many instan-
ces of his more than parental kindness; and I
trust his affectionate solicitude for the promotion
PART II.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUed.
197
!
1
:
เ
of my best interests, has had a salutary influence
upon my subsequent conduct and character." I
cannot refuse inserting-" Return the letters I
have sent as soon as possible. They will often af-
ford me a melancholy pleasure in the review;
and enable me to enjoy a sort of mental converse
with the ever-to-be lamented writer, though he
has passed the confines of mortality." This is on-
ly one instance of the obligation and attachment
felt and acknowledged by numbers more.
In teaching the young, that which is so re-
quisite, is not a vastness of talent, but a peculiari-
ty of disposition. It is a temper compounded of
affection and patience; it is a temper that blends
mildness with firmness, and inspires rather than
commands; it is a temper that, like the genial
rays of spring, warms, revives, opens-not like
the stern severity of the winter-day that chills,
freezes, and binds; it is a temper that will not
produce timidity by eagerness of importunity, or
confusion by hastiness of censure; a temper that
will prevent discouragement in reaching a remote
distance by not discovering too much at once;
and that teaches the receiver as he is able to bear
it.
Some have supposed that it was the design of
our Lord to furnish a motive rather than a model,
when he said, "Learn of me for I am meek and
lowly in heart." As if he had said, "Be not afraid.
to place yourselves under my tuition; my conde-
scension equals my ability; I will bear with your
weaknesses; and my gentleness shall make you
great." Never had a human being so much of
this qualification as Mr. Winter. And this ap-
S 2
+
;
*
...
:
198
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
*..
:
:
peared in another and an higher department of ed-
ucation.
In training up young men for the work of the
ministry, he did not precisely conform to the com-
mon method of education in the seminaries of
Protestant Dissenters. It could hardly be deemed
necessary.
He seldom had more than three or
four at the same time. The formalities of an aca-
demy would of course he much dispensed with,
and conversation and reading supply a series of
lectures. He was a father with his sons, rather
than a tutor with his students. They were almost
constantly with him; he was always familiarly
instructing them; and the love he inspired was
such as to endear every thing he said. Whether
they were walking in the field, or sitting in the
house; at the fire-side in the evening, or at the
table at meals, improvement was blended with
pleasure. Reading always attended the hours of
breakfast and tea, intermingled with remarks de-
rived from the subject. It was no unusual thing
for one of his students to accompany him in his
visits to the chamber of sickness, and the house of
mourning he knew that young men should be
sober-minded; and that by the sadness of the
countenance, the heart is made better. To prepare
them for social and edifying intercourse, they also
frequently attended him in his friendly visits.
They sometimes joined him in his preaching ex-
cursions. There are few things in my life that I
can remember with so much melting pleasure, as
my going with him-walking by the side of his
little horse, and occasionally riding-on a fine
summer's evening, into a neighbouring village,
PART II.]
199
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
and returning again the same night, or very early
in the morning. In these instances I was re-
quired to take sometimes a part, and sometimes
the whole of the service; but it was a privilege
rather than a task, to do any thing before him.
He heard our discourses and prayers with the
greatest tenderness, and beamed with pleasure at
every presage of improvement. A backwardness
to notice imperfections was his extreme; he loved
to commend; it was hardly in his power to find
fault. Yet though his approbation seemed easily
gained, it was not rendered the less desirable. It
was delicious to enjoy it, and therefore it always
supplied a stimulus.
He engaged his students to preach very early
after they were with him. This arose partly
from the state of the neighbourhood, which want-
ed help. Souls were perishing for lack of know-
ledge, and they who could not as yet hope for ac-
ceptance in large and polite audiences, were able
to show the way of salvation to those who were
generally more deficient than themselves. But I
believe it also resulted from his conviction of the
propriety of the measure, independent of this ne-
cessity. He imagined the sooner the young men
began, the more facility and confidence they would
acquire; and that it would be less embarrassing
and discouraging to commence before all their
deficiencies were known, than to start with the
full disclosure: that it was better for them to en-
counter difficulties one by one, as they became
sensible of them, than to begin trembling under
their united impression. It is to be remembered
also, that they officiated at first only in private
200
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
plaees, and rustic congregations. It unquestiona-
bly gave them advantages as preachers; but it
broke in upon their studies as pupils. Some of
the villages they served were at a considerable
distance: their travelling occupied their time,
and its engagements diverted their attention. Up-
on the whole, and after mature reflection, I should
prefer the method he adopted to any other. It
tended to keep the heart in the things of God, and
to preserve the savour of religion on the mind,
which it is well known, is easily destroyed, where
all the studies are purely intellectual, and several
young men of vivacity and emulation are blended
together.
And the preservation of spirituality is of great
importance where the office is sacred: of this Mr.
Winter never lost sight. He was always feeding
and cherishing the piety, as well as promoting the
literary improvement of those who were under
his care. He constantly reminded them of the ab-
solute necessity of personal religion; and endea-
voured to keep alive a sense of their dependence
on God, for the preservation and the increase of
their powers, and the success of their applications
and exertions. Often when we have been perfect-
ly alone, and were going to read even a book on
general subjects only, he has prayed a few mo-
ments himself, or required me to do it; and I
have no doubt but all his students can testify the
same practice in their private intercourse with him
individually. Indeed if nothing of this kind was
engaged in formally, it was impossible not to feel
devoutly while near him: his presence was the
very element of piety.
*
PART 11.]
201
ÀIS LIFE CONTINUED.
To illustrate this kind of attention which he
paid as a tutor, I shall introduce a few extracts
from his letters. If I take them from his corres-
pondence with me, while I was more immediately
under his charge, it is not to insinuate that his
regards were less peculiar towards others, but be-
cause I am only possessed of materials to ex-
emplify his pious care in this one instance.
"DEAR BILLY,
"AMONG the various things which employ my
thoughts, your coming to Marlborough is one. I
hope in time it will be brought about, and that
you will pray for the blessing of God upon our
designs and endeavours. You will not forget the
object we have in view-it is to prepare you for,
and to introduce you into, the service of the sanc-
tuary; in which service that you act properly, and
shine to the glory of God, and be useful to your
fellow mortals, it is necessary that you should be
devotedly given up in heart and life to God him-
self. If you are not really converted yourself,
you will talk very awkwardly about conversion to
others. If you do not love Jesus, you will want
a most powerful constraint to preach him as the
only Lord God and Saviour. Pray therefore for a
renewed heart, if you have it not already; and for
a growth in grace, if that divine principle is al-
ready implanted.-Then you will enter upon all
necessary studies like a devoted and dependent
youth whose every moment will discover holiness
to the Lord. You will then be prepared to par-
take of the afflictions of the gospel, and enjoy
202
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
the spiritual and temporal blessings God may gra-
ciously confer upon you to his praise.
"I am,
"My dear Billy,
"Your affectionate friend,
"Marlborough, January 21, 1785."
"C. W.
The above is part of the first letter I ever re-
ceived from him.
In another, dated Bristol, Tuesday night, (past
eleven o'clock,) he writes—
"YOUR way to Tisbury seems open. On the
1st of October, if life and health are spared, you
are appointed to preach the unsearchable riches
of Christ, in the village where you first drew
your breath, and often since have evidenced your-
self to be a sinner. Indulge suitable meditation,
and pray that you may go with a holy caution
upon your spirit, fearing lest while you preach to
others, you yourself should be cast away. By the
thought that this may be the case, I am awakened
out of my sleepy frame, and exhort you, my dear
youth, on no consideration to take up with preach-
ing merely as a science; enter upon it as a work
of the last importance, and in the discharge of it,
respect your own salvation, as well as the salvation
of those who hear you. I do not write as suspect-
ing your sincerity, but as knowing the depravity
of the human heart, I warn you. On my journey,
PART II.]
203
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
I have been examining my heart, and reviewing
my conduct, and have found myself very deficient
in exhorting and praying with you. I hope when
you return, to amend this omission, and trust you
will be the better for it; neither be presumptuous
nor too diffident, but go on praying and depend-
ing on the Lord Jesus, and may he be with you.
Meet my wishes with your endeavours, and you
will find me to be
"Yours, very affectionately, &c."
- In another, dated Bristol, November 3, 1778 :
"Ir gave me great pleasure to hear from you
yesterday. I have not time to write to you in
Latin, nor indeed much in English. I am happy
to hear all is well at home, and much desire to be
with you. I pray the exercise of your soul may
be sanctified to you, and that by every means you
may be kept humble at the feet of Jesus.
O my
dear Billy, be clothed with humility, and you will
then be happy and useful. God resisteth the
proud, but giveth grace to the humble.
kind inquiries are made after you."
Many
In another, dated Marlborough, July 4, 1788:
"I AM breaking off from the sermon I am com-
posing for Mr. Hancock's funeral, who was buried
yesterday, on purpose to drop you a line. Ever
}
204
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
şince I received yours, I have been in hurry and
confusion. I am absolutely going from Marlbo-
rough, and have a fair prospect of settling at
Painswick, in Gloucestershire. There I shall be
glad to see you, and as often as may be convenient
and prudent, will exchange pulpits with you.
You are much upon my heart, and I think upon
you with joy, with fear, and trembling. You
must expect enemies, and look for persons who
will not take a little pains to invalidate your la-
bours. I have had information of the advice Mr.
Cecil gave you; it was truly important, and equal-
ly true the remark he made at the same time.
Let nobody spend an afternoon with you, nor do
you spend so much time with any one, if you can
help it. Be sure to preserve some time for attend-
ing to Latin and Greek; and by carrying your wits
about you, get a knowledge of men and things, as
well as pay a close application to books. Preserve
your modesty, and walk with great caution and cir-
cumspection. I wish I was at your elbow, I could
Time
say many things I cannot enter upon now.
forbids my enlarging. May God keep and smile
upon you, and cause all grace to abound towards
you."
In another, dated Burford, July 9, 1788:
"I DARE say you received my short line by
Mr. Stump. I wish I could have written to you
more largely and explicitly, but the hurry I have
been in all the last week is scarcely to be conceiv-
!
PART II.]
205
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
ed of. I have had two providential opportunities
to hear of you, and am thankful to hear you are
acceptable; I hope the Lord will continue to make
you daily so, and keep you low and humble before
him! You will want a great deal of wisdom, and
had need ply hard to all kinds of studies which
are subservient to the ministry, and immediately
connected with it. Prayer, much prayer to God, is
of great consequence to you. Keep as much as
you can from contracting epistolary correspon-
dence. Let your letters be as few as possible; yet
here you had need be careful, lest you should
overlook essential friendship. Pay all due respect
to, and keep a very close tongue. I preach-
ed Mr. Hancock's funeral sermon, on last Lord's
day, in the afternoon. If I could help it, I would
go no more to Marlborough. O that you could
man to fill up my
meet with some godly young
place there! My heart aches for the people, though
they have used me so very ill. I hope God will
provide for them, and not suffer them to be given
up. I hope when you return, the country will af
ford you much comfort and opportunity for study,
and that opportunity will be well improved. I
am at present exercised with many trials, and hope
they will be sanctified. If you can entertain ne
with any little news, do.
God bless you, &c.”
In another, dated Marlborough, July 29, 1788:
"Ir you really have performed your appoint-
ment for Mr. Hill, I would advise you to attend
T
206
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
to no further invitations, but leave London imme-
diately. Come into the country to pray and re-
flect, and wherever you go, set the picture of your
mortality before you; and consider that he who
has raised you can sink you, and will, unless you
give him the glory of the gifts he has given to you.
You will take this hint kind; it intends no re-
flection. Write, or come to Painswick, when you
can, and by the first opportunity. I long for a
little quietude and retirement, but above all, for
that which will come in due time. Till then I
hope for grace to persevere in every christian
duty, and to prove myself, by every means in my
power,
"Yours, &c."
In another, dated Wotton, September 7, 1788:
"I A LITTLE indulged the hope of seeing you
last week, but I acknowledge it proceeded more
from a kind parental fondness than from a hope
founded in reason. I hope you are well, and busi-
ly gathering store into your hive from the various
flowers upon which you light. May all savour of
grace, and terminate in the glory of the great and
good God, whom to serve, I trust we shall never
cease; and of whose service, I pray we may never
be weary till we are stretched in our coffins.
Since God has given you ability for his good work,
keep yourself at liberty for, and in it. I bless
myself in my heart, that you are out of London.
If I was to study your reputation, more than the
¿
:
.
PART II.]
207
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
glory of God, I would advise you to take the same
steps; but as the glory of God is concerned, and
your eye is single to it, I more confidently rejoice.
I do not wish you to spend your days in Christian-
malford, at the same time I am glad it is à retreat
for you.
The idea of a young man grasping at
lucrative baits, is contemptible, and I suspect the
gospel has not suffered a little from such instances;
on the other hand, neglect of wealth, indifference
to it, and preferment given to poverty and obscu-
rity, puts lustre upon a religious character, espe-
cially with popular gifts; profane history gives
us many and striking instances of what I say. And
we cannot speak with weight upon divine things;
but as our practice confirms our doctrine."
In another, dated Painswick, May 8, 1789:
"WONDER not that I have not written to you
before. My heart and my hands have been full,
and though I have often thought of you, I have
lost you in a cloud, which I hoped Providence
would disperse. I doubted not but that I should
find you again, and that my bowels would be re-
freshed by thee. How glad am I that it is your
design to be at Painswick, my prison, my palace
of pleasure and of praise, next Thursday. Pray
start immediately after breakfast, and be not sur-
prised if you meet me in Lord Ducie's wood, or on
Selsley. Somewhere, I will strive to meet you,
if the weather be not very foul. Then, if I can,
I will tell you how I was bereaved of dear Thomas.
208
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
I feel under the Providence, but am not misera-
ble. He was an idol torn from me, and I yield
him up, from a conviction I have done wrong,
and God has done right. Do not omit to im-
prove upon it. God has given you a tongue,
and an early commission to use it; let the heart
dictate to it, and may the Spirit dictate to the
heart. Live while you live; it is but a little
while you have to live. "Work while it is
called to-day; the night cometh when no man
can work." With an heart enlarged to you be
yond what words can express,
“ I am, &c."
In another, dated Painswick, Nov. 21. 1789:
"IT is a pleasure to know where to direct to
you. Were it not to you, it would be no plea-
sure to write, for I am tired. I long to see you,
not for the sake of hearing news, but because I
love you. What a noise have you made in the
world! How many eyes are upon you! How
many hearts fear for you! How many envy you!
I hope you are in the possession of heavenly en-
joyments, and walking comfortably in the good
ways of God. These are your best days, make
much of them, and by your indifference to your-
self, and that holy negligence which is a bright
ornament, and necessary to blunt the edge of even
kind suspicion, show that you can be popular
without being proud. The church, as well as the
world, looks with a jealous eye upon the young
minister of the day, and especially upon those
who have no paternal property to support gay ap
pearance. Mr. Thornton, in a letter of Thursday,
PART II.]
209
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
says, The prevalent attention to dress and out-
ward appearance feeds the pride, and ruins more
than half our young ministers. Even awkward-
ness, if it tends to humble them, is desirable;
for what is more odious than a finical, conceited,
dressed up, young minister, that thinks he is the
mighty orator. I would never wish ministers to
be slovenly, but I had rather see them in worsted
hose, than in nice silk stockings, and would pre-
fer such as drink water and small liquors, to those
who cannot do without wine and spirits.' I write
not this to reproach you, but as my most dearly
beloved, to caution and warn you. I know you
will take it as an evidence of my right to sub-
scribe myself,
"Ever yours,
"Affectionately, &c.”
I have taken an extract or two from letters ad-
dressed to me after my removal from him. I
could have added to their number greatly; for
his fatherly care never declined. When his stu-
dents left him, he followed them with his pray-
ers and advice; he watched over them with a
godly jealousy, and cautioned, warned, exhorted,
encouraged them, according as their circumstan-
ces required. They were always welcome to his
house as visitants; and nothing could afford him
greater delight than to see any of them in his pul-
pit, and to witness the fruit of his labours. He
has often been seen standing the whole sermon
with eager attention, and pleasure glistening
through his tears.
I would only add, that he was peculiarly at-
T 3
210°
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
tentive to the behaviour and manners of his young
men. No person ever valued more than he did,
the moralities and proprieties of life in all its re-
lations and conditions. This is not always the
case. Some of those who are very zealous for
what they call the power of godliness, trample
upon its external forms, and circumstantial ap-
pendages, which yet are often, not only orna-
mental, but highly useful. Taken up with great
things they overlook little ones; not consider-
ing that what is little in one view, may be great
In another; that what is little in its abstract being,
may be great in its consequences and its connex-
ions. In this view it is hardly possible to know what
is unimportant, especially in moral conduct, and in
public office. Are there no instances to be found of
characters whose excellency has been obscured,
and whose usefulness has been injured-perhaps,
ruined, by little levities, familiarities, indulgen-
ces, and inconsistences, which the severest casu-
ist could not construe into positive crime? But
it has been said with equal truth and beauty,
"That the character of a minister is like that of
a female; to be suspected, is almost as bad as
to be guilty*." A feather discovers the direc-
tion of the wind as well as a tree. Our Lord in
sending forth his twelve apostles and seventy
disciples issued a variety of maxims and admoni-
tions, which, were they to be delivered now at
the ordination of even a young Evangelist, would
be deemed trifling. It was the advice of Solomon,
"Let thine eyes look straight on:"-" Ponder
* Clayton's charge at the ordination of Mr. Brookbanks.
:
PART. II.]
211
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
the path of thy feet, and thy goings shall be es-
tablished."
Upon these principles Mr Winter entered in-
to the detail of practice; and adduced instances.
to exemplify the defects of the excellences he
described. It was an object with him to teach
them how to appear in the parlour as well as the
pulpit. He did not think it unnecessary to guard
them against superfluous wants, and unseemly cus-
toms-against the sottish and offensive habit
of smoking; against giving trouble where they
happened to lodge; against keeping up the fami-
ly beyond their usual time of repose; against in-
exactness in keeping them waiting at meals;-
against the use of spirituous liquors; against
fondness for delicacies. He did not think it need-
less to regulate their deportment towards servants,
suggesting the propriety of noticing them, as well
as the heads of the family in morning and even-
ing devotion. It will be naturally concluded
that he did not leave them uninstructed in their
relation to female society. He minutely specified
the prudence that must guide them in the design
of marriage; and taught them to maintain the
sacred obligations arising from choice and engage
ment. Nothing offended him more than the ver-
satility of some young preachers, who seem to
think they have a right to trifle as they please
with the affections and characters of those they
address.
He knew that a minister's acceptance and use-
fulness, depended as much upon conduct as upon
talent; and therefore as a tutor he knew that he
could not discharge his office by teaching them
134
}
212
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
how to decline and conjugate; how to find a
word in the root and follow it in the ramifica-
tions; how to form a syllogism, or argue without
it; how to form a style, and use the figures of
rhetoric, without turning their attention minute-
ly, morally, and practically, upon themselves :-so-
that they should leave him able to compose a ser-
mon, but not to form a character; filled with sci-
ence and empty of wisdom: to vapour through
life with scraps of Latin and Greek, instead of be-
ing wise as serpents and harmless as doves.
Let us not, thirdly, pass over him as a MI-
NISTER.
He was a scribe well instructed in the king-
dom of God, and like a householder he brought
forth out of his treasure, things new and old. He
had a vast fund of scriptural and experimental
knowledge; and few ever furnished so great a
variety of important reflections as he produced
in his ordinary minis rations. There was no
sameness in his discourses. I never remember
to have heard a repetition of the same illustra
tion, or even the same phraseology. The prin-
ciples he taught were those which he originally
received when he heard the gospel to purpose.
His conviction of the truths, and the importance
of them, strengthened with his years. Hence, in
a ser non he published in 1792, he affirms, “I
am so far from repenting that I ever embraced
them, and from being ashamed that I have pro-
pagated them as an itinerant and a stated minis-
ter, that I shall be glad to subscribe to them
with my dying hand, and testi'y to them with
my expiring breath." To him, they appeared not
PART II.]
213
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
only as the distinguishing doctrines, but the pe-
culiar glory of revelation. He regarded them as
affording the grand desideratum of the state of
man, as a guilty, depraved, and helpless creature.
They had the most holy and happy influence
upon himself, and he saw that, as they are deni-
ed or suppressed, religion languishes for want of
life, and the fruits of morality and good works
sink and shrivel, if they do not immediately drop
off the branches.
He
Yet he did not preach these systems systema-
tically and doctrinally, so much as in their expe-
rimental and practical bearings and results.
was most strictly evangelical, if that means to
preach that we are saved by grace, through faith,
and that not of ourselves; that Christ has once
suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he
might bring us unto God; that in him we have
righteousness and strength; that his sheep hear
his voice, and shall never perish; that every mo-
ral duty is to be enforced by christian motives.
But he would not separate principle from prac-
tice; he would not treat doctrines as naked, cold,
angry propositions; he would not be always harp-
ing upon two or three favourite topics, and shun
a large proportion of the gospel scheme; he
would not confine his motion to a circle, like a
blind horse going round in a mill, or feed like an
ass tethered in a paddock; but went over the
whole land of revelation, in the length and breadth
of it.
Neither would he pervert the plain and true
meaning of Scripture, in order to accommodate
himself to the taste of a sound, or rather sickly
د
}
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
214
audience. In a letter to a friend, he has freely
expressed himself upon this exceptionable prac-
tice. "In our last conversation I believe you
misunderstood me. I have no treatise upon friend-
ship; and only intended to say something upon it
in my extemporary way, from Proverbs xvii. 17.
• A friend loveth at all times.' Some were dis-
pleased; the reason is because I did not violate
the text, and strike out a doctrine from it, as fo-
reign to the design of Solomon in giving it, as
the northern and southern poles are to each other.
Morality, though introduced in its proper order,
and fixed in its proper place, is very disgraceful
to some of our evangelical hearers, who are very
far from being the moral men themselves. They
are never pleased with any thing, but that which
whips up their frothy passions to a very strong
head; and those are the best preachers, in their
estimation, who bring the whisk with them into
the pulpit, and meet not their true state, but
their inclination. Destitute of voice, memory,
fancy, and above all, of a wish to make a nose
of wax of the text, I have not been popular; if
in any degree I have been useful, God shall have
the glory of my usefulness, and I will take to
myself the shame of all my defects. I am get-
ting pretty far in life, and am seized with indis-
positions common to most old men. They do
me no harm, though they put me to pain, I have
had my weaning, and am weaned.”
Never was there a man more condescending
and accommodating where duty called, than Mr.
Winter, but he would not stoop to vulgar tricks ;
he never courted popularity; especially where
PART II.]
215
HIS LIFE CONTINUET
the acquisition involves censure, rather than confers
praise. He would no more sacrifice his judgment
than his conscience, in letting himself down to
a taste which he knew he ought to endeavour
to raise; if he could not correct it, he would bear
with it, but would never indulge it, never sanc-
tion it. Much might have been done in reform-
ing some abuses, if all ministers had followed his
example. While classes of hearers, remarkable
for their captiousness, and ignorance, meet with
preachers that seek to pay homage to them, either
from love or fear, they will feel themselves of im-
portance.
But little of the impression he made as a pub-
lic speaker, was derived from his manner of ad-
dress. He was venerable in the pulpit, not stri-
king. He had no action. His voice was not ve-
ry clear or powerful; his utterance was rather
slow and inanimated.
He frequently preached without notes; but
more generally he wrote a short skeleton; and
sometimes of late years read his whole sermon.
Various are the ways of discussing texts. The
Essay mode: this indeed can hardly be said to
treat a text at all, and was probably introduced for
the sake of brevity, or as the indignant extreme of
the endless multiplicity of heads, and particulars
that formerly prevailed. The Expository: which
explains a portion of Scripture as it lies, intermix-
ed with practical addresses in the process, and
sometimes closed with general reflections in the
review. The Observational: which peculiarly ap-
plies to historical passages, and contains a suc-
cession of remarks, founded upon circumstances
.
216
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
which require improvement rather than explica-
tion. The Characteristical: which takes for its
subject the narrative of an individual, and holds
it up to view, marking its prominent features, to
excite admiration or aversion. The Topical: which
illustrates a theme or a proposition derived from
the design of the words, regardless of the phra
seology, and to which an hundred texts would
be equally applicable. The Textual: which de-
duces the divisions and materials from the lan-
guage of the text. All these methods, except
the first, Mr. Winter occasionally employed, but
the last was his common one, and he excelled in
it. How many passages of Scripture under his
management, were rendered peculiarly instructive,
beautiful, and interesting!
Sometimes, indeed, to a considerable degree,
he was obscure and perplexing: there was an in-
volution of plan, an intersection of parts, circuit-.
cus exemplifications, sentences too long, and pa-
rentheses too frequent. This was his greatest
imperfection; and it rendered him frequently dif
Acult of apprehension, especially among the com-
mon people. Indeed, in a general way, persons of
some intellect and taste were the most likely to
approve of his labours: for when most happy and
successful in bis addresss, there were beautiful
transitions, allusious, and illustrations, too refined
for ordinary perception and relish.
He had a rich acquaintance with the Scrip-
ture, and his sermons abounded with the words
the Holy Ghost uses, admirably interwoven with
his own.
The gravity of his appearance, and the excel-
PART II.]
217
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
1
lency of his character, always prepossessed people
in his favour, and disposed them to listen to him
with attention; and they were amply repaid.-
He very much excelled on public and particular
occasions; such as fast days; days of thanksgiv-
ing; the church festivals, which he commonly
observed; the seasons of the year, which he ne-
ver neglected; and deaths in his congregation
and neighbourhood, which he always improved.
In these performances peculiarly, though not ex-
clusively, he discovered a considerable degree of
originality, elegance, and ingenuity. But I fear
there are young preachers who will affix wrong
ideas to these terms; as it is certain, others have
been already led astray by their mistakes con-
cerning them. I avail myself therefore of the op-
portunity to deliver a few thoughts upon a sub-
ject not very well understood by all those who
are emulous to excel.
There are some whose whole aim seems to ter-
minate in their being original preachers. They
must have something new; and in order to fud
it, will strike out into the unimportant and un-
profitable. What is solid and useful is often re-
jected, because it is common and well known.
But it should be remembered, that usefulness is
the end of preaching-that the most common
truths are the most profitable-that our hearers
are already too fond of speculations and fan-
cies, that bear not on the heart and life-that
we should endeavour to recall their attention to
truths, which, though slighted, ought to be as
interesting as they are momentous-that there is
no new revelation to be expected; nor even any
U
1
!
218
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
?
fresh doctrines to be discovered in the old one
and therefore-that with regard to us, originality
of subject is, and ought to be, out of the question;
and that all the honour of this kind we can claim,
consists in new and pleasing combinations, ar-
rangements, and exemplifications of old, sim-
ple, and well known principles, the preaching
of which, in the beginning of the Gospel, con-
verted the world from Paganism; at the reforma-
tion delivered the nations from Popery; and is
now the power of God to salvation to every one
that believeth. For want of considering that
this is the only legitimate novelty and variety
belonging to their public office, young ministers
have often become unacceptable and useless.-
The body of the people would have been satis-
fied with useful and evangelical matter, however
plainly delivered, but they were disappointed of
their food, by efforts at 'peculiarity: a few idivi-
duals of more sense than piety, would have been
pleased with a display of really superior intellect,
but they were disappointed of their gratification,
and withdrew disgusted by inadequate attempts
to shine; and thus has the trifler fallen through
between both parties.
It would be well to remember the remark
which Johnson, in his life of Cowley, applies to
the metaphysical authors, and which is still more
true in reference to scriptural subjects, every one
of which has been so frequently examined :—
"These writers who lie on the watch for novel-
ty, could have little hope of greatness: for great
things cannot have escaped former observation."
It would be well also to recollect, even in this bor-
..
J
PART 11.]
219
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
rowed sense, the adage of the apostle," Every
man in his own order." If we follow what is
natural, though it may not render us popular, it will
keep us from being ridiculous. It is better to
effect well what is within our grasp, than to beck-
on people together to see us fall into a ditch, by
reaching after fruit that requires longer arms.
ELEGANCE is minute beauty, pleasing proprie-
ty. Simplicity is essential to it. Hence the
line of Cowper, who was himself the finest in-
stance of it-
Elegant as is simplicity.”
It is the same in style as what is called chaste-
ness in painting, and which is the opposite to ex-
uberance and glare. An indiscriminate and un-
sparing application of florid colours, may daub
a sigu post, but will not be admitted into the
gallery. It is the same as gracefulness in appa-
rel; and which is inconsistent not only with
slovenliness, but with gaudery. A well-dressed
gentleman is very distinguishable from an harle
quin. See an elegant female enter a garden:
from the profusion of the borders, she seeks an
assortment of beauty; her eye guides her hand;
she gathers, but not all that comes in her way;
she selects, and the choice discovers her taste;
she arranges, and the order equally displays it:
the several parts aid each other by their hue, and
by their position; though brought together, there
is no crowding; though diverse, there is no con-
fusion; though adjusted, no formality; they open,
and wave, and retain a natural appearance, even
în this artificial state. But another runs on, gath-
1
220
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
ers, because they are flowers, thinks she can never
have enough, and leaves off, because the hand
can squeeze no more-she binds it-it is a bun-
dle of flowers-but the former is a nosegay.
A love of genuine simplicity is, perhaps, the
best proof of an approximation to mental matu-
rity. But there is an infantile state, during which
gaudiness and glitter, shining metaphors, and po-
etical prose, are preferred to it.
Nearly the same may be said with regard to
what is ingenious. That which distinguishes the
true from the spurious is this, the effect appears
natural as soon as it is produced, though it was
not obvious before; and the reader or hearer
wonders that he had not been able to achieve
himself, what now seems so plain. Thus Milton,
in referring to the consequence of Satan's advice
in the council:
"The invention all admir'd, and each how he
To be the inventor, miss'd; so easy it seemed
Once found, which yet unfound, most would have thought
Impossible."
If this statement be just, there is much that
would pass for the effect of genius that abides not
the test. If the thoughts are surprising, they are
not natural: and instead of being easy, they re-
quire labour to comprehend and retain them, as
well as to produce them. They may indicate
learning, and display knowledge, but they do not
fascinate, so that a man cannot disengage his mind
from the charm! they do not dissolve him so
that all his feelings are melted into a sympathy
of delight with the subject! And here again it
PART II.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
221
is no unusual thing for young preachers to err.
They value things according to the labour they
cost them, and expect others to do the same; and
after straining and polishing, wonder at the little
interest they have been able to excite; while
others by a touch will electrify. The mind is in
the best state for composition when it is full of
feeling, but at ease, insensible of great expecta-
tions from it, and unapprehensive of difficulty.
A man may run himself out of breath with his
eyes in the air; the flowers are at his feet.
In the discharge of his office as a minister,
nothing was overlooked,
“But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies;
He try'd each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.
"Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The reverend champion stood. At his controul,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul,
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise.
With regard to this part of his work, in which
he peculiarly excelled, though he imagined him-
self very defective in the manner of the perform-
ance; he has expressed himself in a letter to the
Rev. Mr. S——r, of B— s: and the hints may
be serviceable to others.
sick.
"You wish to possess my idea on visiting the
What I have to say upon this subject
I find it to be one of the most diffi-
is in brief.
U 2
922
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
+
S
ཝཱ, ཙ།, སོཏཱཙཱ པཎ''
Y
cult parts of my ministry. To speak to a careless
sinner as though his state were favourable, is not
possible. To use those liberties which some
good men do, I cannot, by attempting to torture
the mind, by imposing duties which, though they
may be expected from convalescence, cannot from
persons whose minds have been so injured by
their disorder, that they cannot preserve a chain
of thought, nor exert themselves in the diligent
pursuit of knowledge necessary to be acquired.
I can seldom do more than remind them that it
is a melancholy consideration, if they put off the
concerns of the soul till they are fit for nothing;
urge them to examine themselves diligently, re-
minding them that while they are strangers to
the evil of sin, they cannot put a true estimate
upon Jesus Christ: that there is no salvation for
any but in him; that if under a consciousness
of their guilt, they earnestly apply to him, from
his merciful and gracious disposition there is
hope concerning them. Indeed, the peculiar cir-
cumstances of the patient guide to proper lan-
guage, and it is pleasure rather than pain, to at-
tend those whose state is promissory, whose sick-
ness is sanctified, and who are reaping the benefits
of a work of grace previously begun upon them.
I generally turn from the sick to those who are
healthy in the room, and conceive that by serious
addresses to them, I may speak what is neccssary
to the sick. I generally endeavour to be very
serious in prayer, and usually, if the case of the
patient will bear it, read, and, as it is your prac- -
tice, make use of the Scriptures in my address.'
Mr. Winter was singularly pre-eminent in the
""
PART II.]
223
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
devotional part of his ministerial work. I have
heard many pray, but I never heard one that pray-
ed like him. I never knew him at a loss for a
word, or using a word improperly. Such was the
copiousness, such the flexibility of his talent,
that without any premeditation, he could perfect-
ly accommodate his language to every occurrence.
He introduced little things with dignity, and
delicate ones without offence. This gave him a
great advantage, as he was enabled at all times
to notice very affectionately the various and mi-
nute circumstances of his people. Were some to
attempt this, who possess not his richness and ease
of diction, it would only embarrass them, and ren-
der them formal and absurd.
I am persuaded, however, that much of his de-
votional fluency arose from the state of his heart;
for out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth
speaketh. The purity and fervour of his bene-
volence made his tongue as the pen of a ready
writer. We can easily plead for those we love,
and he loved all he beheld. In one of his let-
ters he beautifully remarks, in allusion to the
words of our Saviour, "That when he looked
down upon the congregation, he saw every where
V his brother, his sister, his mother."-No wonder
such a man could pray or-preach. The Sabbath
morning he was more than ordinarily devotional,
and commonly indulged himself at length, espe-
cially at intercession; at other times he was rather
short.
To conclude this article,
"I would express him simple, grave, sincere ;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
224
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well became
A messenger of grace to guilty men.
Behold the picture !"
It is hardly necessary to make another separate
article, by considering Mr. Winter, fourthly, as an
AUTHOR.
He published no work of any extent, and what
he furnished the public, does not rise above medi-
ocrity. It consisted principally of sermons, all of
which were funeral.
The first of these was on the death of Mr. Jo-
seph Shipman, one of the students formerly expel-
led from Edmund-hall, Oxford, and whose case
excited so much attention. This was preached
at Upton upon Severn; and is dedicated to Sir
Charles Middleton, now Lord Barham.
The second was on the anniversary of the death
of Mr. Whitefield. This was preached at Glou-
cester, and is dedicated to the poor belonging to
the Tabernacles at London and Bristol. As this
dedication is very characteristical of the man, I
cannot forbear inserting a part of it.
"MY DEAR FRIENDS,
"THE following sermon does not make its ap-
pearance in the world for any imagined excellen-
cy I conceive there is in it; my only design is to
answer the title, and by an honourable, though
short mention of one of the best friends I ever
had, to testify to the church and to the world, the
obligations I am bound in gratitude to think my-
L
A
PART 11.]
225.
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
self under to Mr. Whitefield; and I must take
the same occasion to intimate, that throughout
the connexion I had the honour of, with that great
man, I did not seek to serve myself more than to
be serviceable. When I first thought of making
this discourse public, I intended to dedicate it to
a person of distinction, whom I count worthy
double honour, till I was struck with the ob-
servation of the wise man, viz. The rich
have many friends;' and as dedications intend
nothing more than tokens of our respect, to whom
should I show them more readily, upon such an
occasion, than to those who have the preference
of the best of blessings, I mean the Gospel, where
by to be made rich in faith, and heirs of the king-
dom the Lord hath promised? Yours, then, mỹ
dear brethren, is this sermon, whose servant he
was, for Christ's sake, whose memory occasioned it.
"For some time I was a labourer among you;
many of you knew my original, and, boasting ex-
cluded, it is a satisfaction to me, that I can review
what manner of entering in I had unto you, and
the whole of my behaviour while among you;
that touching my moral conduct, herein I exer-
cised myself always to have a conscience void of
offence. When I reflect upon my past labours,
they are a sufficient cause of humiliation, and
yet I am a wonder to myself, when I consider
how destitute of every necessary acquirement I
at first made my appearance, and what incessant
interruptions I met with.
"A growing acquaintance with myself made me
conscious of my inability to be so beneficial to
you as I desired, therefore, entirely at my own
repeated request, Mr. Whitefield took me into
226
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
America, where I thought I might be useful in
a sphere that nobody would envy me; and where,
free from all the trials attending a more popular
life, I might glorify God, and be serviceable to
the most oppressed and afflicted part of my fel-
low creatures. During my state of trial in this
humble situation, my habitation was a Beth-el, my
soul was possessed with the peace that passeth
all understanding; my black charge was dear to
me, and I much desired the time when I should
be in a capacity to serve them according to my
utmost wishes, and for ever retreat from a world
of vanity. This happiness, I am obliged to say,
the B-p of In most unkindly and most
L-
ungenerously deprived me of, though I sought
at the hazard of my life. And no sooner did
I meet with his unkind treatment, than by an
instance from another quarter, which I desire to
bury in eternal silence, I was taught to cease from
man, whose breath is in his nostrils.
And
"You, my brethren, at Bristol, know how pres-
singly, and at what a critical juncture I was
brought into your service, in which I still consi
der myself engaged, though less frequent than
formerly; owing to the observance of a piece of
wholesome advice dear Mr. Whitefield often gave
me, viz. Be servant-like, but not servile.'
blessed be the Lord, I find there are doors enough
open to me, quite beyond my expectation; my
feet have been set in a large place; the poor are
the subjects of my itinerant ministry, and I can
say, as the result of my strongest affection for
them, I am willing to spend and be spent for
them, not doubting, but when I can do no more,
the Lord will take care of my feeble remains.
PART II.]
227
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
"Perhaps the persons into whose hands these pa-
pers may fall, require a word of consolation as well
as instruction. You are poor, and your situation ex-
poses you to many and great trials; it may be, you
find them a sore burthen, apparently too heavy
for you to bear. Be it so; you have these consi-
derations to comfort yourselves with: first, they
are ordered by the Lord. He is privy to, and de-
sigus some salutary end by them. We are poor
disordered creatures; he is the physician, and
knoweth that we have need of all these things.
The medicine may operate severely, but the seve-
ral ingredients in it will work together for good;
and however they may put you to pain for the
present, they will be matter of praise hereafter.
God Almighty doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve
the children of men; there is necessity for all
that he doeth, and the necessity is on our part;
when he shall be visibly glorified by the several
dispensations of his providence, your profiting will
appear unto all men.
"Secondly, The Lord is daily answering your
prayers, wherein you request that his will may be
done. It is enough that he hath promised he will ful-
fil the desires of the righteous: but how, or by what
means he will perform his promise, is not for you
to know; all you have to do, is to follow the
prescriptions given you, and suffer the will of
God concerning you. Ye have heard of the pa-
tience of Job, amidst a variety of the most com-
plicated distresses, and have seen in the history of
his life, the end of the Lord, that he is very pi-
tiful, and of tender mercy. You must acknow-
ledge that your blessings are more than a coun-
terbalance to your distresses; and as you are as-
Jo
228
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
sured, that an eternal weight of glory is to be
the interest of your light afflictions, be steadfast,
and hope to the end. Divine supports shall be
given unto you, and if the period of your suffer-
ing season should be drawn out to an unusual
length, the grace of God shall be sufficient for you,
and as your day is, so shall your strength be.
"Thirdly, In the word of the Lord is both
hope and comfort, and this is the word that is
preached unto you. I should be sorry to make
your temporal circumstances the alone objects of
my attention, and I hope you have greater ends
to answer, by hearing the Gospel, than to allevi-
ate the sorrow of the world. It so happens, that
a tide of spiritual distress frequently flows in up-
on the children of God with their temporal cala-
mities, therefore a suitable remedy for both is
deposited in the sacred word; and as wise stew-
ards of the mysterics of God, ministers are to
deal them out as the exigencies of the people re-
quire. If it is well with your souls, in other re-
spects, all is and will be well. As Jesus is the
fountain of life, and always accessible and com-
municative, I beseech you to come to him just as
you are, poor and needy and bowed down. Cast
all your burdens upon him; you may derive a
supply for all your wants out of his fulness, he
will withhold from you no manner of thing that
is good; it is your privilege to trust in him at all
times, and your peculiar mercy, that he will nc-
ver leave you nor forsake you.
"Thus much I thought necessary to say to
you, my poor dear brethren, in this dedication,
to supply what may appear defective in the ser-
:
3
PART II.]
229
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
[
mon; and now I beg an interest in your prayers,
that God may give me a pilgrim's heart with a
pilgrim's life, that I may aim to promote no inter-
est besides that of the kingdom of God, nor at-
tempt to appear an advocate for any other party
besides that which shall stand upon Mount Sion.
There it will be seen how sincerely I have been,
and so far as occasion offers, am yet
"Yours,
"Bristol, Oct. 5, 1773."
"Affectionately, &c.
The third was on the death of Mrs. Lanfear,
the pious sister of Mrs. Winter.
The fourth was on the death of Mr. John Fry-
er, of Frampton upon Severn.
The fifth was on the death of Mr. Zacharias
Horlock, of Painswick, aged ninety-two.
He published a charge, delivered at the or-
dination of the Editor; and another at the ordi-
nation of Mr. Golding, who was also one of his
students.
Some valuable reflections are annexed to the
life of Mrs. Johanna Turner, without his name.
Some may not be aware of this, but he was "The
worthy Dissenting minister" who is there said to
have furnished them.
He sent various communications, especially obi-
tuary and biography, to the magazines, which I
canno: specify. The lives of Mr. Hogg, and of
Mr. Adams, were written by him.
He was idly appointed final Editor of the Theo-
logical Magazine, but others engrossed all the
influence, and no papers were ever sent him.-
X
230
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
-
He wrote the preface to that work, which some
one contrived to spoil before it was printed.
Mr. Winter frequently mentioned a design to
publish some memoirs of that very extraordinary
character, Salmanazer, but the intention was ne-
ver executed. This is the more to be lamented,
as he was peculiarly intimate with him, and at-
tended him in his dying moments. Mr. Winter
had hope in his death. He had a fine original
portrait of him as large as life. But we hasten
to observe him finally-
AS A CHRISTIAN.
Of the carbuncle it is remarked, that it looks
on fire, but when touched it is as cold as other
stones. There are persons who soon rectify our
mistakes concerning them, by our intercourse with
them. They will not endure close inspection.
Their piety is official rather than personal. It
consists in certain exercises and appearances,
which are resigned with the occasions that re-
quire them and in company they are the merry
companions, the temporising associates; in the
house, the cruel husbands, the negligent fathers,
the tyrannical masters.
:
But it was otherwise with Mr. Winter. His
private life was not only consistent with his pub-
lic character, but surpassed it. We respect him
as a man of letters and knowledge, we love him
as a tutor, we revere him as a preacher: but as a
christian "he excelleth in glory.'
""
And here I find it impossible to do any thing
that is very satisfactory to my own mind, or that
will probably meet the sanguine wishes of those
who intimately knew him. The amiableness and
PART II.]
231
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
holiness of his daily walk, were so invariable,
that, as the whole cannot be produced, so reasons
to determine the selection of particular parts are
not easily found. Facts, like quotations, are not
always specimens; they may rise above the gene-
ral practice, or be peculiar to themselves; but
here the various excellences we adduce are in-
stances, and may be compared to small samples.
severed from a large piece of beautiful and finely
woven cloth; they are of the very same texture
and colour with the whole, and would have ap-
peared to better advantage in their original cou.
nexion than in their detached form. For fifty
years, here is a man unchangeable in all the va-
rieties of life; by the grace of God, holding on
his way without drawing back, or turning aside,
or standing still, or even seeming to come short;
what the Scripture calls a perfect and an up-
right man, one that feareth God and escheweth
evil. Such an one we are called to "Mark and
behold."
His mode of living was very simple and plain.
There was nothing superb in his house, nothing
superfluous or costly at his table; but a pleni-
tude of wholesome fare, attended with such a
graceful welcome, and such an agreeable inter-
course, that whoever visited him was more than
satisfied, though he might not find all the foolish
and gouty indulgences, to which he had been
generally accustomed. In a letter to his dear
friend Mr. L-e, in acknowledgment of a favour
received from him, he remarks, " My manner of
life is happily adapted to the times; and, as my
wants are contracted, I feel none of the inconve-
232
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
A
niences which crowd upon many, who suppose
the ministerial office must necessarily be attended
with style, and therefore confound the distinction
between a man of property and a minister.
more public situation, for which I acknowledge my-
self unfit, may require an appearance with which
I can with propriety dispense, and am bound to
acknowledge, I can obtain all I want for myself
and my dear wife, with the interest of 4001. which
she brought me, and the 501. per annum which
my situation produces. But I must be given to
hospitality, and an attention to this duty seems to
require a little augmentation, for which I have
trusted Providence, and Providence has honoured
the confidence reposed in it. The expense of a
plain meal, beyond which 1 never exceed, differs
from that of a feast. Wherever I have been, the
poor have closely attached to me, and in fact
have been part of my family. For their sake I
am thankful for such a friend as my dear Mr.
Le, who blesses me with his friendship, and
honours me with his pecuniary favours, and af
fords me the pleasure, by giving me an opportu-
nity to impart to others, which he himself feels
in imparting to me."
Ilis family worship was early, both morning
and evening. Reading the Scripture always made
a part of it, and a portion of Henry's Exposition
generally accompanied it. Singing also was com-
monly blended with it. He was remarkably fond
of psalmody, and could sing well himself. But
-the prayer-Though the frequency of the ex-
crcise, and the sameness of the circumstances tend
to formality, and allow of little diversity in do-
PART II.]
235
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
mestic devotion; yet his addresses always seemed
as new as they were appropriate, and as compre-
hensive and particular as they were short and
free*. I shall never forget these exercises; they
enlivened me, however dull, and impressed me,
however insensible. I rose from my knees longing
to be better: longing to be more like him; and
thought of the exclamation of Philip Henry, when
he closed the duty of the Sabbath, "Well, if this be
not heaven, it must be the way to it." Many have
expressed a wish that a collection of prayers was
published, more peculiarly adapted to the use of fa-
milies than any of those which have already appear-
ed. Nothing would have supplied this want like
a number of his ordinary devotions in the family,
had they been secured in short hand.
Mr. Winter had no children-unless by adop-
tion and kindness. Of this class, indeed, ne had
many. And it is worthy of remark, how singu-
larly he attracted and attached all young people
to him. And this was the case even with cml-
dren, so that I believe no child was ever in his
company but loved him and when
"The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
Mr. Winter was never tiresome in domestic devotion.
He often mentioned that Mr. Whitefield being at a friend's house,
the master of the family one evening prayed himself. He was
immoderately long; in the middle of the prayer Mr. Whitefield
rose up and sat down in the chair; and when the long-winded
gentleman had done, said to him with a frown, "Sır, you pray-
ed me into a good frame, and you prayed me out of it again."
X 2
234
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
E'en children followed with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown to share the good man's smile.
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd,
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd."
As a husband, he was a pattern of relative vir-
tue. While writing this very paragraph, I have
thrown my eye upon the copy of a letter to a
friend on his marriage, in which he observes:
«Much of the happiness of the conjugal state
consists in reciprocal giving and receiving; bear-
ing with infirmities common to men, and forbear-
ing to avail ourselves of inadvertencies; closing
the eye to failings, and opening it to a discern-
ment of what is praise-worthy. The study of mu-
tual felicity will be well rewarded, and it is a
duty we owe to ourselves, and to the partners of
our lives.
The bond that is soon to be dissolved
should be firm while it holds." To Mr. L—————e,
on his marriage, he writes among other things,
May your wishes be succeeded to the uttermost,
and your expectation of the felicity of the state
of matrimony, be answered beyond conception.
I could indulge myself in the multiplication of
good wishes; they shall all be included in one
-may every blessing unite to make you happy.
They will, if you set the Lord always before you,
choose him for your best portion, and study to
advance his interest among men. Mr. Matthew
Henry's dying testimony will always prove true.
A life of communion with God is the happiest
life in the world;' and his remark in the begin-
ning of his Comment is as worthy of notice, that
He who has a good God, a good wife, and a
PART II.]
235
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
good home, needs nothing more.' It is the pro-
perty of a good wife to make domestic happiness;
and we seldom find men disposed to seek an ad-
dition to their happiness abroad, who, by the at-
tentious of a bosom friend, are made happy at
home. When we do meet with instances to the
contrary, it is in those whose natural depravity is
not subdued. But dear Mr. L-e has long since
lived under the triumphs of grace: he has been
walking in its paths, been guided by its instruc-
tions, and has adopted all that it inculcates. His
choice therefore, I am persuaded, is favourable to
his growth in grace
grace; and whatever additional
claims his new state may impos, he will be equal
to, and live in the conscientious discharge of, till
the end of life is answered, and he shall receive
the "Well done," with which the Lord will wel-
come into his joy those who acquit themselves
properly in the duties enjoined upon them, and
are found faithful in the improvement of the ta-
lents in rusted to them. Exertions in his service
from principle, will prevent us from giving them
an undue merit; we shall not rob him of the glo-
ry which is his due, because he condescends to
accept our efforts, and, though infinitely short of
perfection, yea, attended with numerous instances
of imperfection, honours them with his plaudit.
By the grace and providence of God, we are what
we are; and his grace will keep us from being
proud and vain, while under the conduct of his
Providence, we have opportunities afforded us to
honour our religion, and to be an example to
those around us.”
It is to be remembered that whatever Mr.
(
236
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
ness.
Winter enforced, he also exemplified. He loved
his wife even as himself. This affection was ne-
ver interrupted by passion, or sullied by pettish-
Neither was it suffered to cool with years.
It had no abatement under the infirmities and
decay of its object. When he was at home, no
proper attention was omitted: when abroad, no
engagement hindered the regularity of his cor-
respondence. Nor was he satisfied but in pro-
portion as he realized in his companion, an im-
mortal too. All his intercourse was as religious
as it was kind and tender. O! what opportuni-
ties have I had to perceive this in all his letters
that have passed under my re.iew!-In this man-
ner, indeed, the union commenced: and I cannot
resist the inclination I feel to introduce a little
of his correspondence with Mrs. Winter before
marriage. It will be found very descriptive of
the man; it may prove exemplary. Here follows
his first address.
« MADAM,
"I HOPE this letter will neither give you sur-
prise, nor disgust-I write it in the fear of God,
with a single eye to his glory, from the necessity
I am under to alter my condition, and the high
esteem I have conceived for you. The lowliness
of my circumstances, together with my want of
a settled being, hitherto prevented my ever ad-
dressing any one; and I do not now wish to
think of a young person, conscious to myself that
I am not equal to the duty required in the charge
of a large family. The present line the Provi
gum
PART II.]
237
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
dence of God has cast me into, makes my circum-
stances equivalent to an annuity of about 351. per
annum, and as I do not want to live better than
strictly decent, I flatter myself I shall do no in-
jury to the substance of the person I desire to be
united with. If I might have the privilege to
address you, madam, I desire to do it on the most
honourable terms-should I succeed, I have not
the least doubt but I shall discover an affection
worthy of the marriage state, and engage your affec-
tion toward myself by a uniform temper and deport-
ment. I have not the least objection to my cha-
racter and conduct being scrutinized into, with
the utmost care and diligence; and if you please,
I will refer you to persons whose eminence will
give weight to their testimony. A line from you
will be esteemed a favour, and if it brings the
least hint answerable to my wishes, you may ex-
pect a visit from me very soon; on the other hand,
if you see it right to put a negative upon my re-
quest, I shall endeavour to consider it in a proper
light, and be conscientiously careful, not to make
any future interview with you troublesome. You
would have heard nothing from me upon this
subject, if I did not believe you to be united to,
and a sincere follower of, the dear Lord Jesus.
It will be by a mere mistake if ever I take a per-
son of a contrary disposition into my embraces,
and the more such a person differs in dress, in the
choice of company, and matter of conversation
from the world, the better by far will she suit
me. The brilliancy of heaven is truly admirable,
and therefore desirable; the ornament Peter re-
commends, may be worn without remorse of con-
science, even when it is truly awake to know,
238
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
and serious to examine. That you, madam, may
never put any thing on, but what you can easily
put off, and cheerfully exchange for a grave suit;
that you may never unite with any but in an in-
dissoluble bond, is the sincere prayer of,
"Yours,
"In the gospel,
"C..W.
* 1778."
" DEAR MADAM,
"IN the former letter you did me the honour
to receive, I promised, in case you did not com-
ply with my request, not to make any future in-
terview troublesome. I hope you will not deem
a renewal of the request a breach of promise.—
I do intend, with your permission, if an opportu
nity offers, on Thursday afternoon, to say some.
thing upon the subject; but I thought it neces-
sary to give a previous hint of my intention, lest,
being unapprised of it, I might hurt your deli-
cacy. All you have to say short of an absolute
denial I shall be apt to raise my hopes upon.-
Your only objection hitherto, I am inclined to
think, is a fear, that by contracting an intimacy
with me, you should make a fracture in the union
of your family-this I would willingly avoid.--
But is not their consent to be won? I conceive
Mr. B-―n is a man of understanding. Will
you let me pay a compliment to his judgment,
by asking his consent to address you? If so, you
shall be heartily welcome to inspect the letter
I shall never think of forming a union with any
other woman while I have the hope of succeed-
PART. II.]
239
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
ing with you.
Let me beg you to be tender to
this declaration, and come to a determination as
soon as you can. Should any thing in Providence
occur to retard the accomplishment of my wish-
es, I will endeavour to reconcile myself to it, if
I have but your promise. Do make it a matter
of prayer, and the will of God will be made ma-
nifest. To-morrow morning at eight o'clock, I
shall be upon my kness to solicit, (in a particular
manner,) the blessing of God upon my endea-
vours to gain you. What, if at the same time
you should withdraw from the family for a few
moments to ask counsel of him? It may hereaf
ter furnish us with an agreeable conversation,
when we take a retrospective view of the footsteps
of his Providence, and be the occasion of our mu-
tual thanksgiving. In hopes that this will be
one, (and the most material,) of my latter-day
temporal blessings, I will venture to subscribe
myself,
“ Dear madam,
Marlborough, Jan. 5, 1779.”
"Yours, &c.
"MY VERY DEAR, EVER DEAR FRIEND,
"PERHAPS you would smile to yourself if you
did but know how the parson was tricked last
night. Though his strength was as exhausted
as usual with the duties of the da, in hopes of
meeting with one he most sincerely loves, he
gave an elastic spring, and with his mind formed
for conversation, trotted away to Mr. Merryman's;
but, to his great disappointment, the dear chject
of his affection was not there. This event preach-
240
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
ed a qetter sermon to him than he had preached
to his congregation, though he had been three
times engaged. It brought a conviction that co-
vered him with shame. It made him reflect
with humiliation, how stupid and inactive his
powers are, when they ought to be vigorously
exerted in pursuit of the dear Lord Jesus. I hope
he will take from you your present aversion to
a situation in town, seeing it is his good plea.
sure to deny us the opportunity of an habitation
out of town. I am persuaded a little time will
make it familiar to us. It should become a
matier of great indifference what our neighbours
have to say or think concerning us, while we stu-
dy to approve ourselves unto God. For my own
part, I should be glad to have matters settled
scon, and as the first necessary step, should be
glad if you would come and see the house, and
give me your thoughts about it. We must not
expect the advantages of a Paradise while we
are here; every gratification will have its alloy,
every habitation its inconvenience, every friend
his imperfection, and every change of situation
something we shall be loth to part with, as well
as something we shall be ready to come to.-
Think my dear love of this-not to distress your-
self, but to be fortified with such precaution as
will be a check upon disappointment, and a
means to reconcile you to the little inconvenien-
ces which will always attend us in this life. With
this you will receive a small valuable pocket Bi-
ble, which I beg your acceptance of, in testimo-
ny of your intention to make a present of yourself
to me. It has been long a part of my small pro-
PART II.]
241
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
**
1
perty, and I rejoice that I have it to present to
you as the best signature of my love, and in con-
fir nation of my persuasion, that the rich and in-
exhaustible treasure it contains is all your own.—
I have not one of the same impression by me:
but the quarto one, neatly bound in black calf,
is of equal value, nor would I part with it upon
any consideration, but that of a desire to testify
to your dear sister what an affectionate alliance
I wish to form with her, through my union with
you. I beg her acceptance of it with my love,
and pray that its precious contents may be the
joy, the desire, the guide, the support of her soal.
It is the christianity of the Bible, that only will
stand the test; and all the profession of religion
that will not adinit of a trial by it, will be repro-
bated by God, the righteous judge, in that day,
when every man's works shall be tried so as by
fire. O that I may derive all my doctrine from
it; and that we may mutually agree to square our
lives and conversation by its unerring and safe
rule! Pray for me,
"And believe me to be,
"Yours, &c.
"Marlborough, Jan. 11, 1779."
“MY VERY DEAR, EVER DEAR FRIEND,
"You must necessarily have been very much
engaged and exercised by the death of your bro-
ther. It is an event that I hope will be much
sanctified to you and yours. In cousequence of
it, I could not have said much to you upon our
own concerns, if I had opportunity, but opportu-
nity has been cut off, and my mind has been
Y
242
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
strangely bewildered, and I may add, afflicted,
by the repeated aversion you have expressed
against living in the town. While Providence
denies me the pleasure of frequent interview with
you, it is impossible for me to act as I would, and
unless you can conquer your little prejudice
against a public neighbourhood, I do not see how
my strong desire of union with you can be ac-
complished. You have too much good sense to
require severe asseverations in confirmation of what
does not admit of a doubt. I shall therefore be
content to say, if I could raise you a house of
gold, on a paradisaical spot of earth, it should
be at your service; or, if Providence should
abridge us of an habitation so convenient as we
would wish to enjoy, I could be content to dwell
with you in mud walls. I have been in per-
petual thought ever since last Monday, about
a house out of town, but in vain; and even
though a spot could be procured to build upon,
serious and deliberate reflection convinces me,
that it would be the most imprudent step we
could take, to attempt it. For instance, nothing
could be raised but out of your own stock, and
by a purchase made previous to the building it-
self. My continuance in Marlborough depends
upon the affection and esteem of my friends, and
the success of my ministry; either or both of
these failing, I must decamp, and then what good
would a house do us, merely suited in size, sub-
stance, and situation, to our own conveniency?
Mr. Hancock assured me it was not in his power
to oblige us with a house by the meeting, and
I am as far from approving of that in the Church-
PART II.]
243
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
yard as you would be, if it was only because the
rent would be too high. This difficulty on our
first setting out is very seasonable, at least to me.
In a day or two after I left Rockley, I wrote
largely to some of my London friends, upon the
amiable qualifications of the dear woman, whom
I told them the Lord had secreted and preserved
to be a help, a delight, a principal temporal bles-
sing to me. Nor can I yet alter my sentiment,
while I think of the antidote against the cold,
she so kindly sent me on Monday evening last,
and which, through the blessing of God, had its
desired effect. Will my dear love let me drop
her a hint upon a subject she must know by ex-
perience, if ever she is the wife of a minister of
Christ, viz. the cross. It will appear in ten thou-
sand forms, and be felt in almost every occur-
rence of life. It will cleave to us if we are chris-
tians, and if we carry it as submissively becomes
the disciples of Jesus, it will befriend us even
while it galls the shoulder, and prevent our lov
ing, or being loved by the world, to our utter
destruction. Consider a necessity to live in Marl-
borough against your natural inclination, one
instance of your obligation to take up the cross
among many. And if it should be the chief in-
stance, it is more the name than the thing. In
general, God does not suffer his people to pass
from earth to heaven, with so trivial and little.
interruption. Where the thing is little, it ought
to be the more readily complied with, otherwise
we shall appear to great disadvantage when tri-
ed by that rule, Luke xvi. 10. Had I studied
my own ease and convenience, I should have ta
244
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
ken a very different course, to that I have pursu-
ed through life hitherto; but I enjoy a secret sa-
tisfaction in imitating his example in any degree,
who pleased not himself, and have reason to
blush before God, that having such an example
of self-denial in the dear Redeemer, I have in so
great a measure walked contrary to it. Heaven
will make amends for all; they who have most
of the afflictions of this present life, will have
most of the glory of that blessed state. Nor shall
we wait till our coronation day for consolation.
It will mingle with our sufferings, and be the
ingredient in our cup, that will taste stronger
than our sufferings. This we may gather from
2 Corinthians, i. 5. and iv. 17. Better example of
patience under affliction, or of authority from
whence to conclude the advantage of affliction,
we cannot have. Therefore, my dear love, make
yourself familiar with that subject in your medi-
tation, that is most likely to be your companion
in life. You may rest assured that I shall never
intentionally add a grain to the weight. I mean
all I say and abundantly more, and am persuaded,
when you have conquered the difficulties of your
first settings out, (which I know arise from the
modesty of your temper,) you will find as little
inconveniences in a town, as in the country.
will depend upon the liberty you at first give
your acquaintance. Give up yourself seriously
to the Lord, and he will influence you with his
wisdom to take every step right. I convey this
by your old and trusty servant, Robert Deer, by
whom I beg to know when I may have a sight
of you. Should it be at Mr. Merryman's, I shall
All
PART II.]
245
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
:
converse with you with some appearance of re-
serve, but do not let that hurt you; I shall have
no reserve in my feeling heart. It pants for the
hour when we shall be no more twain.
"I am,
"Marlborough, Jan. 18, 1779."
"Yours, &c.
In another, after speaking particularly of a
house and its advantages, he adds, "O how much
of our time and thoughts are taken up about this
life! We had need seize the earliest moment
to animate each other with the thought of the
life that is to come. Make it your daily concern
to remember, that for a covert in time to be
screened from temptation, and an habitation in
glory we shall dwell in for ever, we must be
debtors to Jesus; and miserable wretches must
we be, if he does not espouse our cause, and take
the management of our best concerns into his
own hands. Wo be to the man whose attention
is swallowed up about a being for his body, and
exposes his immortal soul to wrath and destruc-
tion. I trust this will not be our case.
In con-
fidence that I am not mistaken, I long for the
commencement of the time when we shall aid
each other in praising the rock upon which we
are built, the Saviour by whom we are redeem-
ed."
In the last, previous to marriage-" I am sure
you will see the hand of God in placing us in
this dwelling. My heart is affected with it, and
my expectation of our being mutually happy to-
gether, rises higher and higher.
I know you
J
Y 2
*
1
L
246
MEMOIRs of C. WINTER.
will not delay to come, longer than is necessary,
and for so great a blessing as I expect to enjoy
in you, I am willing to tarry the Lord's leisure.
I am but poorly with a cold, but my soul is happy
in God, and while I am thinking of the prospect
of a nuptial enjoyment with my very dear clect,
I am at the same time thinking of the period of my
departure. But, alas! earth preponderates the
scale of heaven. The Lord make me more spiri-
tually minded."
We need not wonder that a connexion thus
formed, should have yielded so much peace and
pleasure.
Equally excellent was lie in the relation of a
master. He was one of the good and gentle, he
forbore threatening: and was therefore served
from affection rather than duty. He considered
servants as humble friends. He marked their
peculiar cases in his devotion, as well as those
of the higher branches of the household: he
always mentioned them in his letters. He fre
quently observed, that it was wrong to suffer a
domestic to leave our family unable to read and
write. How often have I seen this matchless
character, infirm and enervated to a great degree,
after toiling all the day with his scholars and
students, patiently, cheerfully, devoting half an
hour in the evening to the instruction of his maid
servant! These are scenes indeed that excite lit-
tle notice and admiration now; but a day is com-
ing, when it will appear that to be truly great,
is to be "Great in the sight of the Lord.”.
"Therefore," said one of those who had seen him
gird himself with a towel, and pour water into a
1
PART II.]
247
HIS LIFE CONTINueð.
bason to wash their feet, and who had themselves
imbibed the spirit of the example-" Therefore
the world knoweth us not, because it knew him
not."
No person was ever more formed for friend-
ship than he, or entered more fully into all its
duties. He showed himself friendly," and he
"had friends." The circle was very extensive
and varied. He loved their company; he was
devotedly regular and affectionate in his corres-
pondence with them; he was grateful for their
attentions and kindnesses; he entered into all
their circunstances and feelings; by the tender-
est sympathy he made their trials his own; and
was sure to know their souls in adversity. His
friendship was the most pious, the most durable,
the most disinterested. Nothing was too costly
for him to sacrifice, nothing was too arduous for
him to undertake, nothing was too humiliating
for him to undergo, if a friend was to be served.
"He pleased not himself." He never thought
of his own advantage or convenience. He breath-
ed for others. Hence what he says in a private
letter, he might have published to the world
without any danger of contradiction.
happy that God has given me not only content-
ment with such things as I have, but also an ac-
commodating turn of mind, so that I am desirous
to make all about me happy, and am happy in
their happiness." Indeed, he was the Apostle's
representation of love alive. "Charity suffere th
long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity
vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not be
have itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not
"I am
J
7
•
;
248
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not
in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; bear-
eth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all
things, endureth all things."
This leads me to remark, that nothing cha-
racterized Mr. Winter more than Beneficence.-
His life was an entire conformity to the example
of our Lord, who went about doing good. This
was his study, his business, and his delight. His
bounty was not pressed out of him by violence,
like sourness from a crab: it dropped like the ho-
ney comb. It was not an occasional effusion like
a summer-shower, but a perennial spring, the
streams of which made glad the sons and daugh-
ters of affliction, all around him. And no be-
ing, since the days of Job, according to his sphere
and his capacity, could with more truth, adopt
the exquisitely tender language: "When the ear
heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye
saw me, it gave witness to me: because I deliver-
ed the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him
that had none to help him. The blessing of
him that was ready to perish came upon me: and
I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. I
was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame.
I was a father to the poor: and the cause which I
knew not, I searched out."
Benevolence is to be judged of by proportion,
by income, by self-denial. Hence the most libe-
ral are often those who give the least. Our Sa-
viour himself declared that the poor widow had
given more than all the rich. They cast in much,
she only two mites; but they gave of their abund-
ance, and she of her penury; they could go
PART II.]
249
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
home after all their bounty to a table spread with
profusion and dainties, but she cast in all that
she had for the day, even all her present living.
A period is approaching that will develope cha-
racter, and weigh motives; and then shall every
man have praise of God. The hero shall be ap-
plauded who went boldly to the stake, as far as
he was actuated by a concern for the divine glo-
ry: but that female sufferer in yonder obscure
dwelling, month after month, year after year, de-
Youred by the cancer, consuming the ear, the eye,
the forehead, till it penetrated the brain; cheer-
fully enduring the anguish, without one mur-
muring word; retaining her confidence in God,
and loving him under all the severity of his
hand; talking of his goodness all the day long,
and lamenting her own ingratitude; longing to
be gone, yet willing to be detained*-She will
be the martyr! The trial of the one was short,
but that of the other protracted; in his case
there was every thing to rouse courage, in her
condition every thing to repress it; he was at-
tended by a multitude of spectators, she was un-
observed-here all was pure principle, unaided
by any extrinsical influence. So it is here. We
are far from wishing to detract from the gener-
ous exertions of any; at the same time we must
not separate principle from practice. It may be
charitable to give what we do not want, and can-
not use but surely this is not the criterion of
* This representation is drawn from the life, and was exem-
plified in a good woman, whom the Author buried the morning
he wrote this-it was from Mrs. Bailey.
250
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
charity; it is not the charity of him, who, though
he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that
we through his poverty might be rich. Mr. Win-
ter's resources, were comparatively very limited
and uncertain; by a little common reasoning, es-
pecially by the help of that Catholic argument,
"charity begins at home," he might have justi-
fied the application of the whole of his income
to himself; but his care was to separate every
thing superfluous from what was really needful;
and gratifications in books, conveniences in situa
tion, accommodations in travelling, and indulgen-
ces with regard to a thousand nameless things,
he refused himself, in order to possess some ability
to be serviceable to others. And, his circumstan-
ces considered, no one can imagine how much
good he accomplished.
We read of the alms deeds which Dorcas did,
and one is specified-her making garments for the
poor. Some who abound in wealth will perhaps
consent to devote the time, and to take the trou-
ble that is requisite to put their hand into their
pocket, and even to bring it out again-but Mr.
Winter was a benefactor. He was seen visiting
the fatherless and the widows in their affliction ;
he was seen in the chamber of sickness, and by
the bed of languishing; he was seen wherever
disappointments and losses had left nothing but
the attraction of misery: he and the selfish herd
were sure to meet very near the door; they
leaving their friends when they found nothing
more was to be enjoyed; and he hastening thither
as soon as he found something was necessary to
be done the image of him who has said "I will
be with thee in trouble." Is it too minute to
PART II.]
251
HIS LIFE CONTINued.
mention that his students knew what it was on a
Christmas-Eve, as soon as it was dark, to accompa-
ny him with large baskets of meat to leave in the
houses of the poor; and then return for more, and
take another route; and thus gratuitously furnish
those with a comfortable meal, who notwithstand-
ing all Paley's "Reasons for Contentment, ad-
dressed to the Poor," could never purchase one for
themselves. It would be endless to particularize
instances of a similar kind.
He devised liberal things. If ever a scene of
misery occurred within his reach, it instantly set
his thoughts, his feet, his tongue, his pen in mo-
tion. When we can do very little personally, we
may often do much by means of others. He was
always stimulating his connexions. In private
companies, and at public meetings, he had com-
monly some case of affliction to propose. Num-
berless were the letters he wrote, though he was
so driven for time and pressed by business, con-
taining applications in behalf of orphauism, widow-
hood, or age.
The distresses which rendered
such petitions necessary, were patiently stated at
large, and feelingly recommended, while by ad-
ditional reflections, he endeavoured to render his
address a letter of friendship as well as charity.
And no one could refuse him. It would be curi-
ous to conjecture how much money he obtained
in the course of his life by such importunity.
His disposition being known, and his character
established, he was honoured by several, who sta-
tedly made him their al moner. Were the names
of these generous individuals published, the late
Mr. John Thornton, and the present Mr. Henry
3 1
→
252
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
Thornton, would stand peculiarly distinguished. In
the distribution of such money he acted with the
greatest impartiality, prudence, promptitude, and
fidelity, and fully met the wishes of the donors.
"That day will declare" how far he was by such
indulgences, from diminishing personal liberality,
or applying to his own use what was intended for
others. He refused the liberty to divide it with
them, even when he was allowed to take it. Hence
in a letter to Mr. L-e, in 1801, he says, "I was
truly concerned to hear of dear Mr. Henshaw's re-
moval. Blessed be God, he lived to purpose. Oh that
his mantle, or what is the same, his spirit, may drop
on his relatives, who inherit his temporal blessings.
I long wished to inform you that he kindly honour-
ed my application of the 24th of November, on
the 17th of January, with 157. and liberty to ap-
propriate any part of it to myself. But no-I
petitioned on the behalf of the poor, whose indi-
gence is extreme, and the whole sum shall be
faithfully applied to them."
It is well known that if any thing uncommon
or delicate was sent to bin in the way of a pre-
sent, little, if any of it, fell to his sharc: he
would divide it among his friends, and these were
often "The poor and the maimed, the halt and
the blind." Ah! " They could not recompense
thee; but thou shalt be recompensed at the re-
surrection of the just."
He was given to hospitality, and used it with-
out gruding. His house was always open; and
a welcome to enter or remain, was too easily dis-
cerned not to be abused. There were those who.
took advantage of his kindness to spunge upon
PART II.]
253
MIS LIFE CONTINued.
•
him, and incommode him: and even some who
had it in their power to remunerate him, the ex-
penses and inconveniences they occasioned.
It was his fate to meet with peculiar ingratitude
in many instances from those he befriended: yet
this neither checked nor chilled him in his bene-
volent exertions. It only afforded an opportunity
to illustrate the purity of his motives, and to
show that he did good for the sake of doing it.
I never heard him mention one of these instances,
even in the way of complaint: and when others
have heen indignant at them, he has without ex-
ception, tried to apologize for them. The follow-
ing fact may serve to explain and verify my mean-
ing:-While I was under his care at Marlborough,
among other beneficiaries, was an aged female,
whom he almost entirely supported for a good
while before her death. So far from being duly
sensible of her obligations to him, she betrayed
much infirmity in several very opposite tempers,
so as to induce many to speak very severely of her.
When she was buried, he preached her funeral
sermon from the words of our Lord, "Judge not,
that ye be not judged. For with what judgment
ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what mea-
sure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again;
and why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy
brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is
in thine own eye?!!"
Nor was he free from enemies. It might have
been supposed that such a character could never
have provoked any kind of hostility. But how
then would he have been conformed to his Lord
and Saviour, who was all excellency, all amiable-
Z
1
;
:
?
t
}
254
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
ness; or how would he have escaped the denun-
ciation, "Wo unto you, when all men shall speak
well of you." Things like these, without justify-
ing the agents, are permitted and over-ruled for
good. They try, and they discover, distinguish-
ing excellency. They are like the field of battle
to the hero. "He that is slow to anger is greater
than the mighty, and he that ruleth his own spirit,
than he that taketh a city.” "Be not overcome
of evil, but overcome evil with good." "It is the
glory of a man to pass by a transgression." Laden
with this as well as every other kind of honour, he
descended to the grave. A man who for years
had treated him very unkindly, and given him
much trouble and uneasiness, stood in need of his
assistance in a particular case some months before
his death. He went and applied to him without
any acknowledgments of repentance. Mr. Winter
overlooked his injurious treatment, and without
dropping a reflection, or discovering one emotion
of resentment,politely received him,and attended to
his request. The consequence was natural. I saw
him at the interment among the mourning crowd
weeping bitterly. Another person who was under
great obligations to him, and whose family he had
served in various ways, conceived a prejudice
against him, and persecuted him with remorseless
malignity. The deceased, after doing every thing
that gentleness could devise to soften him in vain,
mentions him in his will, and " Bequeaths to him
his dying forgiveness."
His will indeed was all like himself. It is full
of regard to the temporal and spiritual welfare of
others. Nearly all his substance is appropriated to
civil and sacred benefaction,
3
PART II.]
255
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
Innocency was a most prominent trait in the
character of the deceased. Hence it was one day
wisely and significantly said, by his esteemed friend,
Mr. Matthew Wilks, "I am never with this man
without being reminded of Paradisaical innocence." ✓
The reflection was as full of truth,as it was of taste:
numbers when they read it will remember, and
weep. Hence too, his dear and honoured friend,
Mr. Hill, with his usual force and humour, said,
"Mr. Winter would make the worst devil of any
man in the world." It is awful to think how
many beings there are, human in name and shape,
but infernal in disposition and action; and who
require only a little change of place to make them
completely diabolical. But what a transformation
must Cornelius Winter have undergone, before
he could have borne the most distant resemblance
to one of these unhappy spirits! So full of the
meekness and gentleness of the Prince of Peace was
he, that a friend, very remote from adulation, and
of very discriminating judgment, in this city, more
than once said, after he had been the subject of
conversation, "I have long thought he is more
like Jesus Christ, than any man on earth." I hope
I shall be excused for these insertions; the gratifi-
cation they afford while writing them, is beyond ex-
pression. And much of the pleasure arises not only
from my regard to a character, the like of which I
despair to see again, but from a conviction that the
praises here bestowed upon him, do not savour of
the falsehood, or lavishness of common eulogy.
I wish also this part of his character to be ren-
dered exemplary. Innocency may be deemed a
kind of negative quality, but it is an enjoined one,
256
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
"Be harmless and holy;" "Give none offence,
neither to the Jews nor to the Gentiles, nor to the
church of God." David was so alive to this, that
he was checked from repining and murmuring by
the thought of it: "If I say I will speak thus;
behold I should offend against the generation of
thy children." It is surely an evidence of the de-
generacy of the age, that an inoffensive man is an
expression used generally to insinuate some imag-
ined intellectual deficiency; as if there could be
no good sense without cunning and villainy. But as
one has justly observed, "The craftiest villain is
the greatest fool, and the harmless Christian the
wisest man." It is true, inoffensiveness and
talent, do not always go together, but neither do
wickedness and wit: and a man of inferior endow
ments, with an honest and good heart, is a far more
valuable character, than one of greater capacities,
who, while he has the wisdom of the serpent, has
the poison too. Call this quality, if you please,
even an infantile property, provided you remember
a piece of history: "At the same time came the dis-
ciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the
kingdom of heaven? And Jesus called a little child
unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and
said, Verily I say unto you, except ye be convert-
ed, and become as little children, ye shall not enter
into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever there-
fore, shall humble himself as this little child, the
same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.'
So much more valuable in his followers, and in his
judgment, are the simplicity and innocency of a
child, than the coruscations of intellect, the specu-
lations of philosophy, the intrigues of politicians,
and the exploits of heroes.
""
PART II.]
257
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
*
But it must be confessed, that this inoffensive-
ness is peculiarly attractive, where it is combined
with qualities that would render a man dangerous
without it: where the sublime is softened by the
beautiful; where the simplicity of the babe tem-
pers the wisdom of the sage.
"In malice be ye
children, but in understanding be ye full grown
men: 1 would have you wise unto that which is
good, and simple concerning evil." And who did
not perceive this in Cornelius Winter? How fear-
ful was he of injuring the honour of religion, and
causing the way of truth to be evil spoken of? How
tender was he of the purity of another's mind, and
the peace of another's conscience? With what
truth could he have adopted the language of the
apostle, "Wherefore, if meat make my brother to
offend, I will eat no flesh while the world standeth,
lest I make my brother to offend." He made
straight paths for his feet, for the sake of those that
were walking after him, lest that which was lame
should be turned out of the way. His concern was
to heal, not to stumble. If a brother was overtak-
en in a fault, he restored such an one in the spirit
of meekness, considering himself, lest he also
should be tempted. No one was ever injured by
his example, or his speech. He made no one an-
gry, no one sad. His whole life was an exemplifi-
cation of the admonition which Paul gave to his
son Timothy, and which he often gave to his sons,
Speak evil of no man." And we know who hath
said, "If a man offend not in word, the same is a
perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole
body."
66
As the thoughts we entertain of ourselves in-
1
Z 2
258
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
fluence us in judging of others, the man who
designs no evil often fears none; hence he is off
his guard, and finds himself sometimes involved
in difficulties which are escaped by those, who,
from the reflection of their own sentiments, keep
a sharp look-out upon others. This was not un-
commonly the case with our departed friend.-
But I am persuaded, that notwithstanding these
occasional disadvantages, he found his innocent
and unsuspicious temper its own reward. "Who
is he that will harm you, if ye be followers of
that which is good?" Sufferings that befall us
in this way will assuredly be over-ruled for our
benefit. Yea, our own feelings will more than
indemnify us for our losses. Nothing is so much
to be deprecated as an habitual wretched state of
suspicion and dread; having no confidence in
those with whom we have to do; if we sit still—
to be listening for the intrusion of thieves, or if
we walk out-to be thinking of nothing but tread-
ing upon toads and serpents.
The candour of Mr. Winter was remarkable.
His natural temper was unusually sweet, and re-
ligion improved it. He held his sentiments with
firmness; but distinguished not only between
the true and the false, but between the true and
the important. He did not consider every thing
alike momentous: and therefore he did not press
it with the same degree of zeal. I never remem-
ber while I was under his care, any attempt to
form my mind on inferior questions and disputes:
he endeavoured to give it in all these cases a
proper temper, but not a particular bias.
"Re-
collect," said he, "that it is possible to defend
PART II
11.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
your own fort without storming another'
Maintain by scriptural argument, your Gwll pi
ciples and practices with modest confidence; but
rail not, insinuate no reflection on your oppo-
nents; name them not, unless-with respect.”
Though he was a Dissenter from conviction
before he had established his seminary, he sent
one student to Oxford, and another to Cambridge.
He admired the Liturgy; and was attached to in-
strumental music in the service of God.
Though he was a Pædobaptist, he was on
terms of the most cordial friendship with Mr.
Francis, of Horsley, and his brethren of the same
persuasion, in Gloucestershire, and elsewhere.-
And here let me mention a circumstance not in-
vidiously, but to designate the man.
He was
once desired by a Baptist minister to preach for
him. The sermon immediately preceded the or-
dinance of the Lord's supper: to which his dis-
course was preparatory. When the public ser-
vice was over, he was informed that he must ex-
cuse their asking him to communicate, as it was
contrary to the law of the house. He very cheer-
fully withdrew into the gallery as a spectator:
and all the remark he made in relating it was,
"That he much enjoyed the service, and commun
ed with them in spirit."
Here
Here is a case which, arguing a priori, would
appear incredibly strange, at least to some.
are two parties of Christians, agreed in all their
doctrinal, ecclesiastical, and disciplinarian princi-
ples-differing only in one point-and this not
essential to salvation-even by the acknowledg
ments of both, however inconsistent with such
260
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
an avowal, excessive zeal on either side may be:
and yet these opponents, who, when they mutu-
ally explain, can hardly find ground enough to
stand upon, while they are disputing, have com-
monly betrayed such animosity, that a man of a
liberal disposition, who will not help forward the
contention, is not supposed to have any fixed cou-
viction upon the subject, and our admired poet
has mentioned it, as the extreme influence of the
power of charity, could it induce them to be
friendly towards each other-
"Relenting forms would lose their power, or cease,
And e'en the dipp'd and sprinkled live in peace.”
What Dr. Rippon said at the funeral of Mr.
Ryland, many might have said at the death of
Mr. Winter;"We talk of candour, he had it."
Mrs. Shipway, of Bristol, was his very intimate
friend, and many of Mr. Winter's letters to her,
are now before me. She had belonged to the Ta-
bernacle; but in 1776, it appears that, from con-
viction, she was baptized by the late venerable
Hugh Evans. A transition of this kind too often
alienates the affections of those who complain of
the loss they have sustained; and shyness, if not
aversion, takes place of cordiality. But this was
far from being the case with this man of God.
His intercourse and correspondence were as fre-
As some bigots
quent and affectionate as before.
may consider this a moral phænomenon, let us
raise their wonder by introducing a part of two
letters the deceased wrote to the individual above
mentioned.
PART II.]
261
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
"ON Saturday I arrived here, after being ab
sent more than fourteen months. In this time
I have frequently thought of, and purposed to
write to you, but something always prevented.
It is not yet too late to testify my steady attach-
ment to an old friend, who I did not know till
I came here, had been buried in baptism. Well,
I can have no just objection to that part of your
conduct, though there is no apparent probability
that I shall follow your steps. Through mercy
I have learned to yield my prejudices to the wind,
in matters of faith and practice, while I have
reason to hope my differing brethren are follow-
ing the dictates of a tender conscience under the
influence of the Holy Ghost. It is, and ever has
been, the lot of the poor Methodists to lose their
children, but this is our comfort, we shall not lose
the glory of their birth. I pray that you may
derive much real advantage from your submis-
sion. The good Lord carry on his work upon
your heart, and keep you a dependent on his dear
Son. I do not doubt but he will: it is not his
usual method to lead us into a deep knowledge
of ourselves, and impart to us a growing acquaint-
ance with Jesus, and then cast us off. Owing
to the power of temptation, I find it hard to hang
upon his breast, yet by the arm of his power
defending and helping me, I have hold of him
still, and trust I shall be able to maintain it. I
am yet indulged with the liberty of speaking in
his name, and that with some little success. Tra-
velling without intermission is disagreeable to na-
ture, but it has its reward, and a fear lest I should
262
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
take a false step, disposes me to go forward.-
Perhaps I may get home sooner than I expect.
Many of my dear friends are safely housed of late,
it may be to escape a violent storm. What if it
should overtake us in the wilderness? Jesus is
a refuge, and that is enough. I wish you would
particularly remember to give my dear love to
Miss Delamain, Mrs. Brooks, and the mourner in
Zion, under the same roof, and as many beside as
know or inquire after me. Poor Bristol! I know
thee, and I love thee, but have no more desire
to see thee. Could I draw forth some of its select
inhabitants, to this little spiritual Elysium, and
you, among the rest, I should be glad, and do
not doubt but we should anticipate something of
that land, where we shall meet to part no more.
But we must submit to our Father's will, and bless
him for the means he uses, to work that submis-
sion in us. Pray for me, my dear friend, and rest
assured that
I continue, yours,
"Affectionately,
"In our dear Lord Jesus,
« C. W.
"Rodborough, April 15, 1776.”
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
I AM obliged to you for your kind favour. I
shall always be glad of a long letter from you,
but must beg you to accept a short one from me.
I have so many interruptions in my sphere, that
I cannot go on with my necessary studies.
rejoice to hear that the Lord's work is going for-
I
PART II.]
-263
HIS LIFE CONTINued.
?
3
ward upon yourself and others. As to what you
hint about a certain minister, I an unacquainted
with it. To his own master he stands or falls;
whatever imprudent expressions may have drop-
ped from his lips, I hope the Lord will pardon.
I can observe too much zeal for a party both
among Baptists and Pædobaptists, and am ready
to conclude the subject in debate is a partition-wall
God never intended to separate between Chris-
tian and Christian, though he permits it. Good
Mr. Bunyan's view of it, is too general and Catho-
lic to satisfy the mind of a contracted bigot; if
followed, it would cut off an opportunity for
glorying in man. If nothing but what is con-
sistent with sound argument and good manners is
advanced from the Tabernacle pulpit upon the
subject, I do not see why it should give more
offence than what, in the same manner, comes
from Broadmead. I highly esteem Messrs. Evans,
believe them to be dear ministers of Christ, and
think they have an undoubted right to assist my
differing brethren in complying with the dictates
of conscience, and pray, that through the divine
power attending their ministry, your soul may be
more dead to the world, more conformed to the
image of Jesus, and more than ever alive to God.
I do not wish ever to enter upon a controversy
with you; my objections against a second bap-
tism are at present insurmountable; my satisfac
tion with what I received in infancy is entirely
satisfactory, nor have I the least uncharitable re-
flection to make upon you. I believe in the
world of spirits, the distinction will be lost, and
therefore would avoid any prejudice from it now.
ན
264
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
עדיע
Pray for me; you will not see me unless you
come into the country; here I shall be glad to see
you, and here you will see something of the
Lord's glory as well as at Bristol-My kind love
to all dear inquiring friends. There are many
near you I love in truth, and hope nothing will
interrupt our social enjoyment above. Wishing
you every blessing a covenant God can bestow,
"I remain,
"Rodborough, August 14, 1776."
Yours, &c.
Though he was a Calvinist he was intimately
acquainted with Mr. Wesley, and often spent some
days with Mr. Fletcher; and, in the earlier vo-
lumes of the Arminian Magazine may be found
some specimens of their mutual correspondence.
When, therefore, the Methodists, two or three
years before his death, erected a chapel in Pains-
wick, though some of his people were displeased,
viewing it rather in a way of opposition, he was
far from complaining: and the Sabbath it was
opened he largely and particularly prayed for the
success of the gospel in it, in each of his public
services.
In delivering his most important sentiments,
he always remembered the advice of the Apostle,
"Speaking the truth in love." He did not sup-
pose that religion was an altar that sanctified eve-
ry gift. He knew that the wrath of man work-
eth not the righteousness of God. He therefore
never employed a pen dipped in gall, nor a tongue
set on fire of hell. He left those who differed
from him the most widely, to their own Master;
!
PART II.]
265
HIS EIFE CONTINUED.
and treated them with the greatest affability and
kindness. With some of them he was on terms
of the most friendly intercourse, though they
never entered the doors of his meeting, till a re-
gard for his character compelled them to go to his
grave to weep there.
છે.
The little liberality that prevailed among
the professedly peculiar followers of Christ, made
him often sigh, and long for heaven. In a letter
to Lady H-, he remarks," All distinctions that
now divide the people of God will then be lost.
Though we are now distinguished by our peculi-
arities, we should not forget that we are but as
so many tribes in the same Israel, and so many
families in the same tribes. When I regulate
my views by these Scriptural considerations,
it makes me very easy about who has the prece-
dency, or what is the plan that seems to have
most of the divine smiles. My utmost am-
bition is to walk in love, and so to improve my
humble talent, that I may not be found with the
wicked and unprofitable servant."
In another to the same personage:-" It is not
always necessary to take sides, and yet it is almost
impossible often to be indifferent. When brought
into such a dilemma, a tender mind feels perhaps.
more than the contending parties. This, among
other things, serves to embitter even the church
as well as the world, and to make us desire to be
absent from the body, and present with the Lord,
where imperfections in knowledge will be no
longer the occasion of differences in sentiment
between the Arminian and Calvinist, the Church-
man and Dissenter, the Baptist and Pædobaptist."
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266
MEMOIRS OF C. Winter.
!
In another letter to this lady-" I have always
considered the church rather through the medi-
um of Catholicism than as in party-detachments;
and am persuaded, that if that generosity and real
candour which make no inconsiderable part of
our religion, were mutually cultivated, our joint
object would be, more to spread the gospel than
to divide its professions into partics."
In a letter to a young friend who had express-
ed his scruples concerning the book of Canticles,
he says "Come and see me. We will talk over
the matter, and if we cannot unite in sentiment,
we will agree to differ; we will not quarrel about
Solomon's Song, if you will agree to love a greater
than Solomon.”
No one will blame me for concluding this
article with an additional testimony of the es-
teem in which his character was held by persons
of different opinions; and by another instance
of that graceful candour by which he deserved it.
C
"RESPECTED FRIEND, WILLIAM JAY,
"OBSERVING in the Evangelical Magazine,
thy intention announced to the public of editing
Memoirs and Select Letters of my late highly
valued friend, Cornelius Winter, I could not find
my mind excused or satisfied to omit sending thee
the inclosed; the return of which I request. Ac-
cept every good wish for the success of the work,
and that of thy ministerial gospel labours which
3
PART II.]
267
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
I have been occasionally favoured to enjoy through
the median of the press.
"I am,
"With every respectful regard,
"Thy sincere friend,
"JOSEPH RICKMAN.
"Cliffe, Lewis."
"DEAR SIR,
"THE punctuality of the Friends is an exam-
ple to Christians at large; I wish I could more
exactly copy it, but voluisse only in this case, non
satis est. The last time I was favoured with an
interview with you, I promised to transmit to you
the copy of Dr. Fothergill's letter to Mr. White-
field, but it being mislaid, I could not perform
my promise. It was some years before I found it;
I have now an opportunity to send it; it is
accompanied with my best and affectionate wish-
es, and would be also with a greater number of
lines, if I were not circumscribed for time. An
all-wise Providence has transferred me from the
unfruitful soil of Marlborough, to the somewhat
more fruitful soil of Painswick, where I am work-
ing in the vineyard according to the ability
which God has given me, and waiting for my dis-
charge from labour and dismission from life.-
Though I had really lost recollection of your name,
I feel a warm attachment to your person, and am,
in the love of him, who, in the dispensation of
the fulness of time, will gather together in one
all things in Christ,
"Yours, &c.
a Painswick, Aug. 26, 1791."
"C. W.
268
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
"A few friends are in this town with whom
I should be glad to accompany you to meeting,
either to join in silent waiting upon God, or to
receive instruction from your lips. It would no
less give me pleasure to lodge you under our hum-
ble roof. Farewell."
"DEAR SIR,
"Your favour which you indulged me with
on the receipt of Dr. Fothergill's letter to Mr..
Whitefield, is among my papers. It deserved an
acknowledgment before now, but as I hinted to you,
so it proves, I am a very bad and irregular corres-
pondent. However, my friend coming into your
town, I must make her the bearer of a line.-
I hope it will find you the same man in disposition
and resolution; disposed, as you long have been, to
give the world to come the preference of this, and
resolved, in the strength of divine grace, to obtain
by vigorous exertion in compliance with your
Lord's will, and by firm reliance upon his promise,
the prize of your high calling. O dear sir, what
reason have we to be thankful that we have Scrip-
tural ground to hope we are in the number of the
chosen, and called, and faithful, and for that good
hope through grace, which maketh not ashamed!
Under different professional distinction we appear
to the men of the world, as though we were going
a different road, or as though there could be no cen-
tral point in which we could meet; but we know
to the contrary. Jesus Christ is the centre of uni-
ty, and by him, through one Spirit, we have access
to the Father. The Lord, in tenderness to our
weakness, can admit of our differences, and yet can
1
PART II.]
269
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
}
give us a disposition to receive the same essential
teaching, and will no doubt consider us in the num-
ber of the children of the church, concerning
whom it is promised they shall all be taught of
God. The happy consequent is, that we shall go
unto Jesus Christ, and by renewed acts of faith re-
new our application daily unto him. It is his
precious blood that cleanseth from all sin, and by
renewed exertions of faith, we acquire its cleansing
virtue. The agency of the Holy Spirit is exerted
for our instruction and guidance into the way of all
truth; and when we have made the necessary ad-
vancement, we shall be taken from the school of in-
struction to the mansion of our Heavenly Father,
where our joy, which is here incomplete, shall be
full. What wonder is it if with these views we
should leave a noisy world to settle its own quar-
rels, and fight its own battles, waiting to see the
events which the all-wise and over-ruling Provi-
dence will bring about by the contentions and dis-
sentions of men. I allude now, as you may perceive,
to the state of the political world, and to the several
foreign events, which perhaps we could not have
supposed, in our juvenile days, would have taken.
place. It is easy for him who made the world, in
an instant to unframe it, and reduce it to confusion,
and to make it appear that the Most High ruleth in
the kingdoms of men. We are the subjects of a
kingdom that cannot be shaken, and if we have
the grace answerable to our vocation, it is impossi-
ble that our minds should be diverted from it by
important trifles. I cannot conclude these lincs
with any news. We are in a quiet and pleasant situa-
tion. Here are a few friends of your persuasion
i
2 AR
270
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
*
something under twenty, among whom is a Mr.
Roberts, formerly a merchant in the north of Ame-
rica. He is a person of great humanity and good
understanding. He is a great botanist, and does
good by the application of his study to physical
We are on good neighbourhood as you may
suppose, and only a want of leisure prevents fre-
quent society. Should any providence call you in-
to this neighbourhood, no one will be more happy
to see you, than,
cases.
"My dear Sir,
"Yours,
"Affectionately, &c.
« Painswick, March 6, 1793."
His condour extended to matters of practice as
well as of opinion witness the following remark
in a letter: "Though Mr., should continue
angry with me, I cannot treat him as an enemy.
We must bear our sufferings from the church as
well as from the world, and stand the shock to which
we are liable from the misunderstanding, and the
resentment even of those we love. I bless God,
the misapprehensions of my friends do not alienate
my affections from them; and,though I feel wound-
ed, I can distinguish between the thrust of an assas-
sin's poniard, and the blow of an offended brother,
who would not strike if he did not mistake.”
His improvement of time was exemplary. Though
always rather infirm and often poorly, how little.
did he indulge himself. Sloth was out of the
question; but how much did he abridge what
many would have deemed necessary for refresh-
ment. He was a very early riser. How many
PART II.]
271
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
exercises have I performed with him before six in
the morning, sitting by his side at the table, or
standing between his knees with his arm-I think
I feel it now-upon my neck. When abroad
many an hour would he secure in his chamber
retirement, before the families rose, for reading
and writing. He was always anxious to return.
His visits at home were short, but instructive.
He never left a company without dropping some-
thing by which they might be the better for him.
He thus exhorts one of his young friends.—
"May you have wisdom to keep conversation
in the visiting circle, from degenerating in the
least degree. Connect piety with cheerfulness;
let not the former be driven out by the latter.
Keep not all your religion for the pulpit: have it
at heart and at hand; at dinner and at tea; and v
let every occurrence furnish you with a subject
for spiritual improvement." This was his own
practice. And though he did not speak much,
and his extreme modesty kept him from taking
the lead in conversation, he expressed himself
with peculiar propriety, and dropped sentences
which were not easily forgotten.
Though the Lord's way is hid from us, our way
is not hid from him.
We have an unchanging world before us, and an
unchangeable God with us.
I would not only be found in the Lord's work,
but I would also do it in his way.
Let us rest in Jesus now, and we shall rest with
him soon.
I want to be very different to what I am, much
as I differ from what I was.
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272
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
t
The more dangerous the way, the more cau-
tious the traveller.
It is a great matter to be able to distinguish
between waiting and loitering.
He is all to us, and does all for us, that he may
have the glory of all from us.
Every place is alike to him who goes no where
without God.
Much may be done, as in the building of Solo-
mon's temple, without the noise of axes and of
hammers.
Seclusion from the world prepares us for com-
munion with God; and communion with God
prepares us for intercourse with the world.
I endeavour to take things as I find them. I
fight with my own heart, from which I am most
incommoded; and when I can get the victory
there, I am an universal conqueror.
Though many of these kinds of aphorisms might
have been secured from his lips, they dropped.
still more frequently from his pen for the mo-
ments devoted to correspondence were by him
deemed sacred and accountable; he said it was a
fixed rule with him, "Never to write a letter
without aliquid Christi in it ;" and, neither in his
conversation, nor his letters, were these reflections
delivered quaintly, nor from a common-place vo-
cabulary, like those of some formal talkers and
writers, who have a number of sentences prepared
for the occasion, artificially introduced, and used
till they are worn out. His remarks grew out of
present circumstances, they were the spontaneous,
expressions of the moment, the natural effusions of
at
a thoughtful mind and a feeling heart, and were
"
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PART II.]
273
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
never repeated again. He had an inexhaustible
affluence of sentiment and phrases. He was per-
petually lamenting the waste of time by interrup-
tions, and the loss of it by inability to improve it
as he would. Referring to an engagement with a
person of quality, he observes in one of his letters
"It gave me some little specimen of the attend-
ance great people require, when they condescend
to be friendly to a poor preacher; and I wish to
know little of them, but with a design to do some
little good by them. They make one spend more
time to eat a dinner than seven of them are worth."
In another he says "Oh! that I had been more
diligent in using the opportunities afforded me-
the morning's work cannot be performed in the
evening of the day. My gracious Master I hope
will accept such feeble services as I am able to ex-
ecute."
If ever a person was "lowly in heart,” he was
the man he was clothed with humility. In ho-
nour he preferred others to himself. He rejoiced
to hear of their success, and was industrious to add
to their fame. "He must increase, but I must de-
crease," was a sentiment that found in his mind
its native soil. He condescended to men of low
estate. A female friend of his lately put into my
hand a letter, which he had written to her servant,
whose mind was distressed: It was given me as a
curiosity, but the thing was by no means remarka-
ble in Mr. Winter. I have in my possession, by
the death of the owner, perhaps fifty letters, ad-
dressed to a day labourer, at Christian-Malford;
and, not to observe that something was conveyed
in each of them for the poor man's relief,the letters
274
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
are written with the same neatness and correctness,
and are as large and sentimental, as any of those he
addressed to persons of rank.
His humility was genuine and not assumed. It
was not the humility that is founded in vanity, and
employs a number of self-annihilating expressions
as anglers to fish for praise: a humility that retreats
-to be followed; that refuses to be courted;
that disowns excellences-for the satisfaction of
inducing others to affirm that we possess them, and
believe that we are insensible of them. Reality
needs no pretensions: but those who have neither
the trouble nor expense of maintaining the reality,
can afford to be very lavish in professions. I never
once heard Mr. Winter in his public services deal
in the language of many, who, while they call
themselves "Dust and ashes," "Less than the
least," "Unworthy to open their lips," show in
their general carriage, that they have no very mean
opinion of themselves; and whose frown would
probably threaten the daring individual that would
address them in the language of their own
luntary humility." It is doubtless possible for
persons to be led into the occasional use of such
expressions from ignorance, simplicity, and a sense
of what they really feel: but as they are common-
ly employed by that class of the ambitious who
are straightened for expedients, and as they are ge-
nerally considered the sneaking wishes of pride, it
would be better to use them very sparingly, to keep
our good from being evil spoken of, and to estab-
lish our claims to this christian excellency by some-
thing less cheap and suspicious-the whole course
of our lives. I remember soon after I was with
66 VO-
PART II.
275
HIS LIFE CONTINUed.
him, I was called upon rather suddenly to preach
at an association of ministers. My dear and hon-
oured tutor saw my agitation as I was ascending
the pulpit, and whispered to me on the stairs by
which he was standing, "Make no apology.” 7
What he suspected, I had determined upon; but
confiding in his judgment, I gave up my design. He
afterwards explained the reason of his prohibition;
and added, that "A young preacher's manner out
of the pulpit, and in the pulpit, will be his best
apology."
If we consider his humility more immediately
in reference to God, in whose sight the very hea-
vens are not clean,and who chargeth his angels with
folly-What wonder from such a man we meet with
language like this. "I wish always to see myself
what I am, and then no varnish can so alter me,
as to make me excel in my own eyes.'
99
"Lord what am I? A sight of my own wicked-
ness frequently bows me down, and I would if I
could, lie ten thousand fathoms lower, so that I
might but be within the reach of mercy. It is never
better with me than when I am necessitated to lie
at the feet of Jesus, begging the crumbs of that
bread, which, because I am not worthy to receive
as a son, I would thankfully accept as a servant."
"The constraining love of Christ is the spur to
my work, and the reward of my labour. And when
the dear Jesus, who bought me with his blood, shal
crown me with his glory, the whole hierarchy of
heaven shall hear me shout grace, grace !"
To Mr. L-e. "We should do what we can
if we cannot do what we would; and when we have
exerted ourselves to the uttermost, it becomes us to
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276
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
lie prostrate at the Redeemer's feet, acknowledging
that we are unprofitable servants. I feel this to be
the case. Whatever formality there may be in my
duties, and much there is indeed, there is none in
my confession. I think as I speak, before God and
man. I had almost said it is impossible for me to
be proud. If at any time Satan and my own heart
take the advantage of a more than ordinary lively
frame, and by the assistance of a more than usual
share of spirits, I am carried through a service, the
comparison of that with the many dull and plod-
ding exercises, which connect with it, forbid me
to be vain. It is probable the motives of my hu-
miliation may be more from pride, than from a
proper concern for the glory of God, my divine
master; if this be the case, I am so much the great-
er sinner before him. Of this I would stand open
to conviction. Our great mercy is that whatever
may be our sin, there is an infinity of pardon for
it. But it should be our care not to make work
for repentance, by indulging sin, or to sin that
grace may abound, and thus abuse the information
we have of the plenitude of Salvation, and the effi-
cacy there is in the blood of Jesus, to cleanse us
from all sin."
"I do not wonder you
To Mr S-r, of B————s.
derived advantage from the ordination of Mr. Hick-
man. I always attend upon such an occasion, in-
terested in all the advice given to the ordained,
and frequently discover a remissness and deficiency
that humbles me before God. Not having life to
live over again, my convictions of what I have in
many instances detected to have been wrong, huin-
ble me. I despair of fetching up time past. The
PART II.]
277
HIS LIFE CONTINved.
decay of nature, which gradually advances, will
not admit of my using time present as I ought. I
must therefore die repenting, and throw myself up-
on the mercy of God in Christ Jesus. He knows
that I have always designed better than I have per-
formed; and I must rely upon his compassion to
pity the weakness that he knows has ever attended
my frame, and pardon the sin which he equally
knows has not been intentional, but cleaving to
my most holy performances, has polluted them.
And the failure of putting into practice the resolu-
tions I have formed, makes me cautious in renewing
them."
In another letter. "O! blessed Jesus! may we
all learn of him. But Oh! my dear madam, with
what difficulty have I brought my heart to yield
to one of his lessons since I saw you. I do not
want, blessed be God, to be conformed to this world;
but while I am indifferent to this world, I am not
enough conformed to the image of the first-born
among many brethren."
I would only add, that when a few years ago, I
wrote a few verses in my native village, in which I
of course was led to notice him as the instrument
of my emerging from the deepest obscurity, upon
my transmitting them to him, he wrote "It is
impossible I can keep the little poem to myself;
and yet I truly blush at being the subject of so
much honour as it intends me. I pray God that in
the judgment-day, I may be found the consistent
character, such as I ought to be. From the many
imperfections known to myself I feel shame, while
from my fellow-creatures I meet with applause, to
which my dearest Jay contributes much. I some-
&
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278
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
1
times tremble on this account.
I know that I am
not disposed to make an improper use of it, and am
sure that it does not in the least divert me from the
Saviour, whose name is all my trust. I need his
mercy, and am in his service an unprofitable ser-
vant. If, like Charles, in Cowper,' I have been
desirous to please, and have made any effort to
serve acceptably, it is because I love my master, and
wherein I can best serve him, I would be most
willing." Such a disposition preserved him from
complaint under inconveniences and trials and
rendered him gratefully alive to the kindness of
God and man. "I feel," says he, " as indifferent
to every thing above the supply of food and rai-
ment administered in a decent manner, as a dead
man does to the coffin in which his remains are
confined."
:
Again, "We are in silent submission, called in
some respects to take up our cross. My old wo-
man, Betty King,* has taken possession of my
study. It is now a complete infirmary. To avoid
enormous expense abroad, I have hereby entailed
very considerable trouble upon my good wife at
home; and as to myself, I am driven hither and
thither for my retirement. But we are agreed in
our conclusion, "It is well," and therefore we
must not murmur; and indeed, by considering our
appointment and our mercies, we are prevented.
Our state is not helplessness; neither are we in
want of the necessaries of life, as are many, very
many about us; and when faith performs her of
fice, and helps us to realize things to come, it pro-
duces a placid effect."
* One of his eleemosynary dependents.
PART II.]
279
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
ど
​In another letter.
ney has been productive of a very serious cold, of
which giddiness, deafness, an obstinate cough, and
a continual fever, are properties. Had I only to
nurse it, I should not be so sensible of its effects,
as I am under ministerial duties, which require me
to go abroad, and keep me fully employed at home.
But who is without inconveniences? And who
am I, that I should be excused? Come forth to
view my mercies, and excite my gratitude. They
are present-my eyes behold them-my heart
thinks upon them-and I am ashamed that their
weight and number do not make greater im-
pression upon me."
"The latter part of my jour-
While humble in himself, he had a holy confi-
dence in God that never forsook him. His faith
was often tried; especially in the earlier periods
of his ministry. But though he was sometimes
left almost destitute, and there seemed no proba-
bility of relief, he was always enabled to believe
in the promise, "Verily, thou shalt be fed." And
he had many instances of God's seasonable good-
ness to encourage him in his future dependence
upon him and by means of these he strength-
ened the minds of others.
Loose among his manuscripts, I very acciden-
tally discerned a narrow slip of paper thus written.
"A. Dyer returns Mr. Winter her thanks for
the books: as he may choose to increase his libra-
ry, she begs to have the pleasure of contributing a
trifle towards it." What the sum was, is not men-
tioned, but on the corner of the paper he had
written―" I received this when I was exceedingly
straitened, and I leave it with my papers, as one
280
MEMOIRS OF Є. WINTER.
#
testimony among many, of the providential regard
the Lord hath vouchsafed me. Reader, make him
your confidence, and he will make you his care.
July, 1776.”
In 1789, his benefactor, the never to be for-
gotten Mr. Thornton, wrote to him-
"DEAR AND REVEREND SIR,
"I INCLOSE You 201. as I suppose your purse
may be low. I commend you to the grace and
love of Jesus. May he long shine upon you and
bless you.
"My dear friend,
"Yours affectionately,
"J. THORNTON."
On the corner of this, opposite the name of
him who, unsolicited, had often supplied him, he
wrote,-" I keep this letter to record the mer-
cy of the Lord. It was a time when I received
it wherein I was destitute, and knew not where
to look for supply; I was kept from fear and anx-
iety, and found the great advantage of faith.-
Bless the Lord, Oh my soul!”
It is more than probable that many other ac-
knowledgments of a similar kind are to be found
in the multitude of his papers. It has been obser-
ved by Flavel, that they who notice providences
will never want providences to notice. And a
greater than he, had said long before from expe-
rience, as well as conviction, "Whoso is wise, and
will observe these things, even they shall under-
stand the loving kindness of the Lord."
"As to temporal circumstances," says he,
:
PART II.]
281
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
"I can leave them with him who long-since pro-
mised, and has been faithful to his word. He will
supply all our need. I live upon the bounty of
Providence, with as much certainty and pleasure
as those can who command their thousands."
I feel that I tread on delicate ground, when I
remark, that my dear and honoured friend fre-
quently indulged a confidence arising from im-
pression. There never was a man more free from
enthusiasm, if we use that term as significant of an
unwarrantable dependence upon God, or an ex-
pectation of the end without the use of the means.
He pressed duty in all its relations; he was sober-
minded, cautious, and prudent; yet it is certain
that, in some of the most eventful circumstances
of his life, his decision resulted very much at the
time from a forcible impulse of mind, which he
could not feel himself at liberty to resist: and
which indeed was fully satisfactory to himself.
It is equally certain, that in taking these steps,
he had no reason to repent: but was abundantly
convinced by the consequences, that they were of
God. We must not limit the holy one of Israel,
nor yet be wise above what is written.
"A good
man's steps are ordered by the Lord; and he has
said, in all thy ways acknowledge him, and he
shall direct thy paths." The promise is connect-
ed with the duty, and as the one is performed,
the other is accomplished. Common Christians
can hardly understand the peculiar advantages
that arise from exalted spirituality of mind, and
the most intimate degrees of devotedness to, and
communion with God.
He had an holy and unshaken confidence as to
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282
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
his spiritual and eternal concerns. He knew whom
he had believed, and was persuaded that he was
able to keep that which he had committed to him
against that day. This, under every event that
naturally tends to alarni and distress, released him
from anxiety, and kept his mind in perfect peace.
He was not afraid of evil tidings, his heart was
fixed, trusting in the Lord. A gentleman, Mr.
Dodd, has just written to me to say, that he came
over in the same vessel with him from America.
He gives the same account of the dreadful storm
as Mr. Winter has done in his narative: but he
adds—“When all hope of being saved was taken
away during this extremity-our impious captain
fell on his knees, and intreated our neglected and
injured friend to pray for him and the ship's com-
pany. No one can imagine with what dignity,
composure, and kindness, this great and good man
behaved himself, and what attention was paid to
every word that dropped from his lips, as we were
kneeling round him." He was always indeed rais-
ed above the fear of death, from which some are
subject to bondage all through life. To him death
was no more than a sleep, not only in reality, but
apprehension. The last time I was walking with
him, he was speaking of his own dissolution. As I
wished to know the state of his mind, and he had
never been accustomed to talk of his assurance, I
asked him how death appeared. He answered,
46
Very inviting." Aware of his having been ge-
neraly enervated to a great degree, and supposing
it possible that, like some good men, he might
have felt a constitutional dread of death, I added,
Has it been always so?" He said, "always. Bles-
PART II.]
283
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
sed be God, ever since I knew him, I have been
enabled to live in a waiting posture; and though
I am not improperly weary of the world, having
found much friendship and mercy in it, yet death
is inviting."
One of his last students writes me, "That he
often spoke with obvious pleasure of the approach
of death. If a little pain of body seized him, he
would frequently say with a smile, "Who can tell,
but this may serve to introduce me to my Father's
house ?"
His early letters, of which I have looked over a
great number, abound with joy and rapture; in
those of later years there is less ecstacy, but much
of that peace which passeth all understanding. Let
a few extracts suffice to show the blessedness he
enjoyed from the strength of his faith-it would
be delightful to transcribe more of them.
"What wonderful events have occurred since
we exchanged a letter ?—But the Lord reigns, and
he can preserve us. The overflowing scourge can-
not pass through the land, but by his permission.
What a mercy, to be the subjects of a state that war
cannot affect, and to be able to look forward to a
land where our eyes shall not see evil any more.
This, my dear sir, is our discriminating mercy, and
it does us good to be thinking of it. Happy would
it be for all whom we love, if they would set their
hearts upon that state, and in their minds connect
the present and the last day together; and when
gloomy thoughts are excited by political events,
would banish the gloom by the consideration that
the world to come, and into which we shall soon
be transferred, knows nothing of the calamities to
*
284
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
which this is ever subject. He who made all
things has the reins of government in his hands,
and all men at his control. And we are sure that
he will over-rule all the convulsions which dis-
tract the present times, and threaten the disturb-
ance of the future. The storms will spend them-
selves, and the calm will ensue, which will no more
be interrupted, when all nations will be blessed.
May we exercise faith upon whatever God has
promised, and more immediately upon these pro-
mises which respect ourselves, our present con-
cerns, and our eternal glory. We shall then re-
joice while others mourn, and our joy no man
taketh from us."
"I catch the retirement of the morning to
drop a few lines; I wish they may find you well in
God. Then you will be prepared for sickness,
should it please him to inflict it upon you. He
knows how to deal with us. Nothing shall occur
that is really evil in its consequences, if we love
him and put our trust in him. If he designs our
good, we may submissively let him do his pleasure
with us; it will terminate in everlasting happiness,
and that is sufficient. In all the revolutions of
your constitution, think of the state that under-
goes no change, and where your youth will be re-
newed like the eagle's. In sickness and in health
it becomes us to meditate upon this; and it will be
natural for us so to do, if we live under the influ-
ence of the Holy Spirit, and are taught so to num-
ber our days as that we apply our hearts unto wis
dom. We live in a dying world, and must expect
to die. He lives most properly who thinks more
of death than of life, and thus dies daily, and lives
PART II.]
285
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
with an ungrasping hand. I think it is not vanity
nor pride in me to say, so I do. I may not,
I shall not have done all I should wish when
I come to die, but I do not therefore neglect to
look forward, rather to a dying day than to a long
life. What is it that can make death friendly to
us, but an interest in the death of the blessed Je-
sus? He destroyed death, and him that had the
power of death, in favour of all who make him
their friend.”
"I am much better than I was, but am yet
under, I was going to say, complaint-but why
should a living man complain, especially the man
whose ten thousand mercies stand opposed to a
few, very few inconveniences? Through mercy,
I know what it is to be fed with the hidden
manna, and at this time I enjoy access with con-
fidence into the holiest of all."
—“It is well we live as yet secure from inva-
sion. I am inclined to think before war ceaseth
I shall be in the realms of eternal peace: yet, as
far as my reflections extend, I feel for posterity.
But when I reflect that the Lord reigneth, I may
dismiss my fears. He who governed the world
long before I had my existence, will continue his
reigu long after I am out of the memory of eve-
ry oue. It is enough if I reign with him, or
am one in the retinue in which he will be glori-
fied."
"This reminds us that we must shortly put
off our tabernacle, and if we have put on the Lord
Jesus, the sooner the better. I trust this is now
become our case. The evidence of it keeps me
unmoved by storms, and unshaken by tempests,
286
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
though the awful falls of my neighbours jar me;
and I cannot hear of them without being deeply
affected. O how dreadful is it, to know the evil
of sin by experience, after we have made a most
glaring profession, that we know the grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ! Merciful Saviour! never suf-
fer me to fall into that horrible pit. If I must
took into it, hold me up in thy everlasting, ne-
ver-failing arms, and I shall be safe. The pro-
mise is sure; "I will uphold thee with the right
hand of my righteousness." But in order to its
accomplishment, the precept must be attended to,
Watch thou in all things. O that I may never be
unwatchful, till the enemies which assault me now
shall assault me no more for ever. Then will
be the time to put off the harness; and the pain
of vigilance, will be exchanged for the joy of
rest."
"There is a deal in this state of mortality
to make us desire the change, but this desire
should be regulated by a submission to the divine
will. Sinful selfishness often pushes us towards
heaven, rather than a growing heavenly frame;
and if we desire it rather as a convenience, than
for the sake of conformity to our blessed Saviour,
the desire is itself sinful. We are not better
than our fathers who passed through the same
evil world, and found it the same as we do.-
Our duty is in patience to possess our soul,
and to endeavour to bear with a Christ-like tem-
per, whatever comes upon us, till we are ripen-
ed and prepared for that glorious estate where
our happiness will spring from our holiness, and
we shall be made perfect in love."
PART II.]
287
HIS LIFE CONTINued.
-"At present, blessed be God, there is no-
thing in the world that charms me, but what I
shall enjoy to infinite perfection in the world of
spirits."
Why should we fear? The grave is not
to be a prison-house, but a bed-chamber. We shall
not be thrown into it as criminals, but kindly con-
ducted to it as friends-there our toil will be at
an end, our conflicts will cease for ever; endless
joy will take place of transient sorrow, and an eter-
nal weight of glory be the substitute for the af-
flictions of a moment."
"Here I am like a ship at anchor in a wind-
bound condition, longing to sail to the haven
of eternal rest. O what a day when I shall be-
hold his face! I now find him the shadow of a
great rock for refuge, and as rivers of water for
refreshment. I have peace and quietness now;
and assurance for ever in that which he calls me,
to possess.'
-So SPOKE Aspasio, firm possest.
Of faith's supporting rod;
Then breath'd his soul into its rest,
The bosom of his God.
He was a man among the few,
Sincere on virtue's side;
And all his strength from Scripture drew,
To hourly use apply'd.
That rule he priz'd, by that he fear'd,
He hated, hop'd and lov'd;
Nor ever frown'd, nor sad appear'd,
But when his heart had rov'd.
288
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
{'
For he was frail as thou or L
And evil felt within;
But when he felt it, heav'd a sigh,
And loath'd the thought of sin.
SUCH LIV'D Aspasio: and at last,
Call'd up from earth to heaven;
The gulph of death triumphant pass'd
By gales of blessings driven.
His Joys be mine, each reader cries,
When my last hour arrives;
They shall be yours, my verse replies,
Such only be your lives.
CHAPTER IV.
REMARKS.
THROUGH all the preceding pages, reflections
have mingled with facts, and the perusal of the
whole narrative, will, it is hoped, make some use-
ful impressions. Yet knowing that people are
generally more disposed to indulge their curiosi-
ty, than to aid their improvement, and that there
is nothing, to which they are so indifferent as the
application of what they either hear or read to
themselves; it may not be improper to bring to-
gether in a distinct form, some additional remarks
of practicable utility.
First. What improbable and marvellous changes
often take place in the conditions of mankind! Ma-
ny have reached an eminence, towards which, at
one period of their lives, they could not have aspir-
PART II.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
289
ed. Had the important vicissitudes through which
they have passed, been previously foretold, they
would have replied with the unbelieving noble-
man, "If the Lord should make windows in heaven,
might such things be." What would have been
the surprise of David, if a prophet had approached
him when he was in a field, sitting on a hillock,
with the sheep at his feet, and his harp in his hand,
and had opened to him the future scenes of his
greatness! But by a train of events, led on by the
Providence of God, he was called to exchange the
shepherd's crook for the royal sceptre, and the cot-
tage for the palace. In revolutions less splendid
and striking, but not less strange and unlikely, he
has led others by a way that they knew not. He has
made darkness light before them, and crooked
things strait. Difficulties which seemed insupera-
ble have been overcome; and without a design
formed by their friends, or a hope entertained by
themselves, they have passed from obscurity to
honour; from limitation to enlargement; from
dependence, to be the support of others; from ina-
bility, to be the instruments of good to thousands.
"He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth
the needy out of the dung-hill; that he may set
him with princes, even with the princes of his peo-
ple." "It is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous
in our eyes.
It should teach us not to disregard those in hum-
ble life, especially poor children. "Despise not,"
said our Lord, “One of these little ones.” And
three reasons he assigns for it: angels are their at-
tendants" Their angels do always behold the
face of my Father which is in heaven;" Jesus is
2 C
290
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
their Saviour-" The son of man is come to seck
and to save that which is lost." God is their friend
"It is not the will of your Father which is in
heaven, that one of these little ones should per-
ish." Is it necessary to add, you know not what
they may hereafter become; what in the destina-
tions of heaven they already are. See that floating
ark of bulrushes; it contains a weeping babe, aban-
doned to the perils of the Nile, in a state equiva·
lent to the want of father or mother-but it carries
the scourge of Pharaoh, the deliverer of Israel, the
historian of the creation, the legislator miraculous-
ly commissioned, the prophet divinely inspired!
Behold the brightness of the Father's glory, and
the express image of his person! Where shall we
originally find him? From what peculiarity of be-
ginning, promissory of his future unexampled gran-
deur, does his illustrious course commence ?
Where is he that is born king of the Jews, king of
nations, king of saints, king of glory? See that
new born infant, brought forth in a stable, wrap-
ped in coarse swaddling clothes, and laid in a man-
ger, because there was no room for him in the inn!
These cases it will readily be allowed, are peculiar
as well as extraordinary-but we may reason from
them. They show us how liable we are to err,
while judging after outward appearances; and how
unanswerable present indications frequently are to
future events. There are many around us unnotic-
ed, in whom are lodged talents, which if roused by
circumstances, and improved by diligence, would
bless, if not astonish the church and the world. The
subject of these Memoirs, was not only in a consid-
erable degree, an instance himself of the truth of
PART II.] HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
291
this remark, but an example also of the influence
it should have upon the mind. He was observant
of the neighbourhood in which he lived, and of
the congregations in which he preached; he ne-
ver overlooked the lower ranks of life, but endea-
voured to draw forth and encourage every token of
piety or talent, however destitute of external re-
commendation. How often would hesay-
"Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
Secondly. We see what progress may be made un-
der the greatest disadvantages. It is frequently the
case, that those who have the means and opportu
nities of improvement, undervalue and neglect
them; while others who are desirous of excelling,
are denied these assistances. But diligence con-
quers the hardest things. An intense desire of
knowledge will not suffer a man to be idle. It
will create the helps it does not find. It will de-
tach leisure from distraction, and solitude from
company; it will keep open the eyes and the ears;
and by lively, active, minute, habitual attention, it
will aggregate and multiply intellectual stores ; it
will render every place a school, and every occur
rence a tutor; it will suffer nothing to be lost.
}
"Some minds are temper'd happily, and mix'd
With such ingredients of good sense and taste
Of what is excellent in man, they thirst
With such a zeal to be what they approve,
That no restraints can circumscribe them more
Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's sake;
Nor can example hurt them."
292
MEMOIRS OF C. WINter.
ļ
A
}
None therefore should despair. Especially let
young men, who wish to render themselves res-
pectable and useful, by the cultivation of their
minds and the acquisition of science, be encourag-
ed. Let them see what individuals have become,
who never enjoyed the advantages of a classical
education, regular tuition, and ample libraries.
How many instances might be mentioned, to refer
only to modern times! And that which has been
done,may be done-by assiduity and the divine bles-
sing. And if any choose, in the possession of advan-
tages which others want, to be idle and ignorant,
let them remember that their case is not peculiar :
there have been, and there are,
Whom schools dismiss'd
And colleges, untaught.".
Thirdly. We learn how much good may be done
by small resources. The poor and miserable have
seldom been much indebted to the rich and great.
In general, the demands of those in the higher cir-
cles of life, are equal to their supplies: for they have
not only the requisitions of necessity, and conven-
ience, and decency to satisfy, but those of pride,
and luxury, and folly. An allowed distinction
above the vulgar will not content them; they must
be costly, and vie with each other in the splen-
dour of appearance. And hence, whatever be their
income, they have little to spare for benevolent
purposes. Nor can it be supposed that their mode
of life will allow them to be very familiar with
scenes of indigence and distress. They will pass
by on the other side, rather than approach the
wounded traveller; the lamentable tale of we
J
PART II.]
293
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
must not mingle with their music; their feelings
cannot bear to be shocked. "They send forth
their little ones like a flock, and their children
dance. They take the timbrel and harp, and re-
joice at the sound of the organ. They spend their
days in wealth, and in a moment go down to the
grave.
But others do good and communicate with-
out affluence. By small contributions often re-
peated, by applications to those who are more rea-
dy to give than to do alms; by the force of ex-
ample reproaching and stimulating others; by
self-denial, by economy, by contrivance; by num-
berless and nameless personal attentions, where
nothing of a pecuniary nature is conferred; they
are even rich in good works. It would be sur-
prising to those whose "Strength is to sit still,"
could they see what may be done by a single in-
dividual zealously disposed, and wisely employed.
I fear we do not sufficiently make this business.
our object; for there is much truth in the re-
mark of Richard Baxter, that our success com-
monly bears a much more exact proportion to our
design, our desire, and our hope, than we are
apt to imagine. Let this thought be enthroned
in the mind. Let it influence ministers, parents,
and individuals who are concerned to serve their
generation according to the will of God. Let us
lay it down as a principle, that no good effort is
entirely useless. Let us never be discouraged,
because we do not command an amplitude of
means, but instead of bewailing what is impos-
sible, let us labour to effect what is practicable.
Let us never excuse our negligence, by accusing
2 C 2
294
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
our stations-but remember that the ways of
doing good are infinitely various; that they are
found in every period of life; in every relation,
in every condition, in every circumstance: that
the luxury of doing good is so great, that the
Father of Mercies has not confined it to a few;
all may taste it; all cannot be liberal, but all
may be kind; all cannot be generous, but all
may be useful.
One is sometimes astonished to see the indif-
ference with which the rich and great are car-
ried to their long home. There rolls by the pro-
cession. It is splendid; but not interesting. It
attracts numbers; but not mourners. It gratifies
curiosity; but it repels sympathy. The reason
is obvious. What has he done? For whose hap-
piness has he lived but-his own? Something of
him will remain on the marble; but nothing
" I
written on the fleshly table of the heart.
have seen the wicked in great power, and spread-
ing himself like a green bay-tree. Yet he passed
away, and lo, he was not; yea, I sought him, but
he could not be found." But what a sensibility
is produced by the loss of an individual who fill-
ed no public office, who possessed no large bags
of gold and silver, who was hardly known twen
ty miles off. He seemed insignificant.
ties that bound many to him were not known-
but sickness awakened anxieties and inquiry, his
death drew forth his dependents, and at the
mouth of the grave was testified the importance
which had been concealed in life.
The
I remember some years ago to have buried
a corpse. In the extremity of the audience that
PART II.]
295
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
!
#
',
surrounded me-I discerned a female wrinkled
with age, and bending with weakness-one. hand
held a motherless grand-child, the other wiped
away her tears, with the corner of a woollen apron.
I pressed towards her when the service was clo-
sed. "Have you lost a friend?" She heaved a
melancholy sigh-" The Lord bless her memo-
ry!"-I soon found the deceased had allowed her
for several years six-pence per week! O my God!
is it possible that the appropriation of a sum so
inconsiderable, may cause a widow's heart to sing
for joy, and save the child of the needy!-Who
would waste a six-pence; who would indulge
themselves in extravagance; who would not de-
ny themselves, to be able to secure the blessing
of them that are ready to perish!
What we said with regard to the cause of the
poor will equally apply to the cause of God.-
And this, as well as the former, was exemplified
in the character we are reviewing. There is one
thing I would peculiarly recommend to notice.
It is the service he has rendered to the church
of Christ, by his training up young men to labour
in the gospel; with regard to several of whom
he had no other support than casual assistance.
"It has long been my opinion," says he, in one
of his letters, "that if every minister would
✓ keep a young man under his care, and nurse him
for God, it would prove a blessing of no inconsi--
derable extent, supposing that while he is obliged
to learn, he be also permitted to teach."
Let us not be slothful, but followers of them
who, through faith and patience, inherit the pro-
mises. Our opportunities of doing good will soon
****
296
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
be over, and they are as uncertain as they are
short.
Fourthly. What an impression is made by con-
stant and consistent goodness. No character in-
deed, however holy, and however amiable, will
elude all opposition or reflection in passing
through life. Even among his religious con-
nexions be may suffer, and be wounded in the
house of his friends. Some of those who profess
godliness have not the Spirit of Christ, and are
none of his. Really good men have their imper-
fections and prejudices. Their minds are not al-
ways polished by education, or enlarged by know-
ledge. Their habits of thinking are often ex-
tremely limited. They view every subject through
a key-hole. They cannot take those enlarged
views of things which are necessary to do justice
to a superior character, and therefore may miscon-
strue his motives when they are most pure, and
censure his plans when they are most wise. They
may condemn his prudence as cowardice, and his
candour as a want of zeal.
man.
And if these things be done in the green-tree,
what shall be done in the dry? There is a re-
Genuine
proach irreparably attached to the cross.
religion never can be really loved by the natural
"The spirit of the world," and "The
spirit that is of God," are so opposite to each
other, that before there can be a cordial union and
harmony, one of them must be changed. It is
not difficult to determine in which of these the
change must take place. Indeed, it is already de-
termined; "Be not conformed to this world; but
be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind,
that ye may prove what is that good and accepta.
4
PART IIII297
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
.]
.
ble and perfect will of God." He who was fairer
than the children of men, said to his disciples,
"If ye were of the world, the world would love
its own; but because ye are not of the world, but
I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the
world hateth you." To those who did not believe
on him, he said, "The world cannot hate you;
but me it hateth because I testify of it, that the
works thereof are evil." The reasoning from hence
is easy, and the application needless.-But our
Saviour could say, "Which of you convinceth me
of sin ?"-" Many good works have I showed you
from my Father; for which of these works do ye
stone me ?" The enemies of Daniel were forced
to confess; "We shall not find any occasion
against this man, cxcept we find it against him
concerning the law of his God." In agreement
with which is the language of the apostle: "If
ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy
are ye; for the spirit of glory and of God resteth
upon you. On their part he is evil spoken of, but
on your part he is glorified. But let none of you
suffer as a murderer, or as a thief, or as an evil
doer, or as a busy body in other men's matters.'
Hence it appears, that there is a reproach very dis-
tinguishable from that which results from our
cause, and for which we are accountable. And
this may be, and will be avoided by a conscienti-
ous and exemplary uniformity, so that no evil
thing can be said of us.
By means of this we adorn the doctrine of God
our Saviour; we put to silence the ignorance of
foolish men ;-while others are even won without
the word, and constrained to glorify God in the day
298
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
of visitation according to the admonition of our
Lord: "Let your light so shine before men that
they may see your good works, and glorify your
Father which is in heaven." How powerful is
the silent eloquence of a holy and blameless life!
Actions speak louder than words; and practice
might be rendered more useful than preaching.
It is an awful consideration that we are "The
epistles of Christ," and by reading us, the world
will judge of our religion; "What manner of
persons therefore ought we to be in all holy con-
versation and godliness?" How careful should
we be to make a righteous and a favourable im-
pression, by the influence of our character!
How lamentable it is to observe in Ritche's
"Life of Hume," that such a man as Dr. Robert-
son could be addressed in the language of profane
swearing; but this undeniably appears in the letters
of the philosopher to him; and by parity of rea-
soning, we may conclude that in the same style he
was often greeted in conversation too*. We all
know how a consciousness of the character we are
addressing affects us both in our correspondence
and our discourse. There are men with whom
every one would feel it as impossible to use irreli-
gious improprieties, as to throw mud in the king's
face; the majesty of the being would defend him. ·
There is something defective, especially in a mi-
* See a most eloquent and impressive notice of this book in the
Eclectic Review for January, 1808. I cannot help availing myself
of an opportunity to recommend this review most earnestly to the
attention of my religious readers in particular, and of the public in
general. He surely has not candidly inspected this valuable publica-
tion, who does not allow that its literary merit, its liberal principles,
and its evangelical tendency, entitle it to extensive encouragement.
•
PART II.]
299
HIS HIFE CONTINUED.
nister, unless his character produces an atmosphere ~/
around him, which is felt as soon as entered. He,
even more than a christian, is a representative of
Deity, and the place whereon he standeth is holy
ground. It is not enough for him to have courage
to reprove certain things, he should have dignity
enough to prevent them-and he will-if the
christian be commensurate with the preacher, and
he walks worthy of God, who has called us unto
his kingdom and glory. This was the case with
the man of God, whose loss we deplore. What
he professed to be, he was, invariably and through-
out. In his character there was nothing to be con-
cealed; nothing to be propped. It was an assem-
blage of excellency that would bear the closest in-
spection, and it struck every beholder. It was
impossible to be an infidel near him. Every one
saw in him the truth, the efficacy, the glory of the
gospel. No one that approached him could be
wicked; he was ashamed of every thing sinful, till
he got out of the reach of his voice; the sight of
his person, and the remembrance of his name. He
did much good in the pulpit, but unspeakably
more out of it. He taught publicly, and also from
house to house: but when nothing was said, he
was always instructing, reproving, admonishing,
and encouraging by his heavenly example. His
life crowned his labours. What he did was en-
forced by what he was.
Fifthly. We are led to reflect on the advanta-
ges of evangelical religion. It must be allowed that
the deceased discovered the spirit, and exemplifi、 d
the life of a christian in no common degree. But
it may be contended, that the character we have
300
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
pourtrayed was independent of the principles
which he had adopted; and that he was so excel-
lent, notwithstanding his sentiments, rather than
as the result of them. Such an insinuation can
only arise from an unhappy indisposition to admit.
evidence in favour of what are called, the doc-
trines of grace: nor is there any plausible ground
for the supposition. Every man that deserves the
name of a character, and in proportion to his excel-
lence, lives not accidentally, but by rule: he moves
not uncertainly, but is governed by some fixed
views and motives: he does not leave the vessel to
the current, or the wind; he has a port in view, a
rudder, a compass. Hence you know such a person;
you can rely upon him; you can determine previ-
ously the course he will take in such an occurrence
of circumstances. It is otherwise with a man who
He is the creature of whims,
You have no hold of him; nor can
has no principles.
and of events.
he rely upon himself.
No person could exhibit more consistency than
was to be found in the character of Mr. Winter.
There was the most exact conformity between his
actions and his sentiments; and from the seed
sown, you knew the grain that was to spring up.
The doctrines he professed, he most firmly believ
ed. He originally embraced religion in the form
of them; he habitually viewed it through no other
medium. These doctrines with him were not dis-
tant and occasional speculations; they were
brought into daily use; they mingled with all his
devotional excrcises. He was concerned to ad.
vance in the life of godliness—he knew what it
was that most favourably impressed him-he was
PART II.]
301
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
incapable of avowing influences which he never
felt, and advantages which he never enjoyed—but
such, living and dying, were his acknowledgments
in honour of the sentiments he had embraced and
examined. He was alive to the welfare of others;
his design was not to make them proselytes to a
party, but real, and practical, and useful Christians;
and had he not been persuaded that the adoption
of these religious views would have the most salu-
tary influence, he would not in public, and in pri-
vate, and in his correspondence, have recommend-
ed them. It will be observed for what purpose I
here mentioned these things; it is only to prove
that these doctrines were in him not opinions, but
principles. For if principles are operative causes,
if they are grounds of action, if they are leading
motives, his religious sentiments were principles of
his character; they were at once the springs of his
consolation, and of his conduct too.
But if this be allowed, surely it follows that
they are not deserving of the treatment they have
so often encountered. They have indeed frequent-
ly been reprobated, as of the most pernicious ten-
dency with regard to ourselves, our fellow-crea-
tures, and above all, God himself. But I here see
a man under their governance-with regard to God,
full of love, and of confidence, always concerned
to please him, and always rejoicing in him; thank-
ful for his favours, and resigned to his corrections:
-with regard to others, universally benevolent as
to their welfare, full of pardon as to their faults,
and of pity as to their miseries; pleading their cause,
and relieving their wants:—with regard to himself,
neither inclined to licentiousness, nor self-conceit;
2 D
302
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
i
nor trusting in his own righteousness, nor despis
ing others; as watchful as prayerful; abhorring
merit, but delighting in obedience; delivered from
the tyranny of unhallowed appetites and passions ;
exercising self-denial; possessing peace of con-
science; relishing with moderation the enjoyments
of life, but willing to leave them; viewing death
with solemnity, yet raised above the fear of it.
If persons will not trace by reasoning the con-
nexion there is between these principles and this
practice, they may appeal to fact, and learn that
these truths have had the best influence over the
heart and life. The conclusion is obvious. "Do
men gather grapes from thorns, or figs from this-
tles?" It is natural to suppose that divine truth
will have a powerful influence over those who truly
embrace it: we know that the gospel is a doctrine
according to godliness: we are sure that when it
was originally delivered, it awakened in men a su-
preme concern for the salvation of the soul, induc-
ed them to forsake the present evil world, and fil-
led them with zeal to be useful to others; it turn-
ed them from dumb idols, to serve the living God,
and to wait for his Son from heaven, even Jesus,
who delivered us from the wrath to come; to wor-
ship God in the spirit, and rejoice in Christ Jesus,
and have no confidence in the flesh: to account all
things but loss for the excellency of the Redeem-
er's knowledge, and constrained by his love, to
live, not unto themselves, but to him that died for
them and rose again. This is a very brief and im-
perfect relation of the effects of evangelical doc-
trine upon those who heard the gospel at first.
But it is sufficient for our purpose. It may be well
PART 11.]
303
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
to ask, what kind of preaching, in our day, pro-
duces the same kind of living? Wherever it is
found, it has the signature of Deity upon it: and
nothing but ignorance and inattention can deny
the importance of it.
Lastly. What a stimulus have we here to pious
excellency. There is a great difference between
the reality of religion and the degree of it. A
man may be alive and not well; he may be able
to subsist, and not be rich-but we are required
to be rich in faith, and in good works; and not
only to have life, but to have it more abundant-
ly. There are consolations and privileges which
depend on growth in grace, and in the knowledge
of our Lord and Saviour: and a Christian should
be ambitious of obtaining them. He should not
be satisfied with a couviction of his safety. His
soul should prosper. He should be concerned for
the welfare of his generation, and the glory of
his God. He should "follow the Lord wholly"
with Caleb; and, with Paul, "forget the things
that are behind, and reach forth unto those things
that are before, and press towards the mark for
the prize of his high calling of God in Christ
Jesus."
This is the way to seize the prerogatives of
the Christian. Such as these, God not only saves,
but dignifies. He crowns them in eternity, and
he owns them here. Whatever freedom there
may be in the operations of his grace, in dispens-
ing honour he always observes a rule, and he has
told us what it is-"Them that honour me, I
will honour, and they that despise me, shall be
lightly esteemed."-" Therefore hath the Lord
}
304
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
recompensed me according to my righteousness,
according to the cleanness of my hands in his
eye sight. With the merciful, thou wilt show
thyself merciful; with an upright man, thou wilt
show thyself upright; with the pure, thou wilt
show thyself pure: and with the froward, thou
wilt show thyself froward; for thou wilt save
the afflicted people; but wilt bring down high
looks."
Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast,
unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the
Lord; forasmuch as ye know that your labour is
not in vain in the Lord.”
MEMOIRS
OF THE LATE
REV. CORNELIUS WINTER.
PART III.
CHAPTER I.
EXTRACTS FROM HIS DIARY.
EVERY
VERY thing that habituates us to sacred re-
tirement; that leads us to self inspection, and pro-
motes self-acquaintance; that causes us to review
past events, and examine what improvement we
have made of them; that produces comparisons
between our present and former experience, either
for our reproof or encouragement-is confessedly
valuable.
Hence good men have been accustomed to
write diaries. It was known that Mr. Winter ap-
proved of such a custom, and I hoped that among
his papers I should find a complete journal. But
in this I was disappointed.
I saw in a letter to one of his friends, the fol-
lowing acknowledgment—" I have been guilty
of a capital omission—the neglect of a regular di-
ary." Even this did not destroy a hope that se-
2 D 2
306
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
veral interesting portions of his life had been re-
corded by him. But all that has been discover-
ed consists of nothing more than two fragments,
began early in his public life, and soon relin
quished.
Nor are these distinguishable by any thing
superior in the subject, or the execution. The
whole is too much in the form of the Methodist-
ical registers of this kind, which, though they
may be useful in a degree, are surely very capa-
ble of improvement. If it be proper to make dai-
ly observations, it is not always necessary to write
them. For this purpose perhaps weekly retro-
spects, or annual reviews, would be preferable.
By this means their sameness might be varied,
and their dullness enlivened. They might be
rendered less minute and more important. They
might be extended beyond the detail of one class
of feelings, and which are often misunderstood
as to their cause and indications; for how fre-
quently is it the case, that no distinction is made
between the variations of the animal frame, and
the operations of spiritual agency; between phy-
sical and moral inabilities and fervours.
Of the plan we would recommend, we have a
pattern in Dr. Doddrige; and no one can help
grieving that more of his diary was not made pub-
lic. We there see a man not only looking back-
ward, but forward; not only complaining, but re-
solving; not only praying, but striving; attentive
indeed to his pains and pleasures in the divine
life, but always connecting with practice-you see
him investigating his moral character, as well as
his spiritual state; you see what methods he took
*
PART III.]
307
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
to conquer evil propensities, and to strengthen re-
ligious habits; you see how he kept alive the
zeal that carried him through so many difficulties,
and acquired the patience that supported him un-
der so many trials.
Short and imperfect as these manuscripts are, I
shall here present a few pages of them. They
serve to show the pious state of the writer's mind,
and may convince the reader that the exercises
which he has often been led to consider as pecu-
liar to himself, have been the familiar experience
of the Lord's people: and should therefore prove
way-marks rather than stumbling-blocks.
"Once they were mourning here below,
And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With cries, with doubts, and fears."
"I find from a recollection of past circumstan-
ees, I have been very remiss in not continuing a
method of keeping a diary of the dealings of God
with me, but now, by thy grace assisting me, I
will remark thy goodness, O Lord, who art plente-
ous in redemption, and abundant in goodness and
in truth. A more proper opportunity I cannot
have than in the ever memorable instance of thy
salvation, O Lord, this 25th day of October, in
which I enter into the 25th year of my age, at
which time the Lord was pleased to give me an
humbling sense of my wretchedness, insomuch
that I could not only help weeping much in se-
cret, on account of my own unworthiness, and his
all-sufficient grace.-Was much assisted in this
308
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER,
view by reading Gen. xviii. xix. Wrote to M
visited a friend, and had reason to say, hitherto
hath the Lord helped me.
"TUESDAY, 26. In the morning continued my
usual studies; breakfasted with sister S―, there
met a poor desponding woman; endeavoured to
recommend the Lord Jesus Christ, to speak of his
precious promises. Dined with Mr. S; our
conversation was not light, but turned more upon
the creature, than the Creator.-Received a letter
from Mr. W-d, desiring me to return directly.
In the afternoon visited poor Mrs. B-1, with
others, where we sung hymns and prayed. I ex-
pounded the thirty-second chapter of Isaiah, first
and second verses. Our opportunity was solid;
there was something of the Lord's power manifest-
ed. I find it very useful to employ myself in
those exercises among my friends, as it keeps out
frothy conversation, and furnishes me with spirit-
ual matter preparative to public work. In the
evening supped with brother Hn; the eve-
ning was spent in reading the Scripture, singing,
prayer, and narrations of the Lord's providence,
which shows that he is good and gracious.
"THURSDAY, 27.-This morning set out for Lon-
don; was much assisted in my meditation by the
autumn season. Breakfasted as Mr. H—————'s, arriv-
ed in London at two in the afternoon; my time
in the boat was spent in silent prayer and reading.
I could not get opportunity, nor find freedom to
speak to any of the company, all of whom were
abandoned people, but not so intolerably outra-
geous as some I have been with there. Mr. W-
received me kindly; when I came home with
-t
PART III.]
309
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
him went to Tottenham-court chapel, where Mr.
J read many letters of the gospel progress;
Mr. Wd explained many things in them.—
Though my body was weak, my soul was as the
chariot of Aminadab. I could rejoice, not for my-
self only, but for them who had obtained like pre-
cious faith, and believe I shall sit down with them
at the marriage supper of the Lamb."
6
•
“SUNDAY, 30.—If I forget this day, let my right
hand forget her cunning! I rose in the morning at
four, with a scripture on my heart; my former
day's conflict was vanquished, and this was the lan-
guage of my heart, My soul thirsteth for God,
even for the living God; when shall I come and
appear before God?'-Luke xxii. 37. The things
✓ concerning me have an end,' was applied with
great power. On the road, could not help weeping
much on account of sín; and a sense of the Lord's
goodness to me, with a sight of the unparalleled
love of Jesus, so broke my heart, I could hardly
help disturbing the congregation; but the Lord
kept me, and I hope put my tears into his bottle.
Was much refreshed under Mr. W———d's sermon,
W-
from Acts xvi. 13—15.”
1
C
"THURSDAY, Nov. 10.—Arose as I went to bed;
had been much tempted all night, but enabled to
take comfort from that precious promise, I have
prayed for thee.' Wrote to Mr. J-s, and Mr.
M—d breakfasted with me and Miss B—n; our
conversation was upon the favourite topic. Mr.
Wd arrived at eleven, which gave me great
joy; was much laid out in prayer for him, that the
Lord may prolong his days.-Dined with the poor
at Mr. I-d's, endeavoured to improve the op-
310
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
portunity; was very dead till I began to expound
the sixth chapter of John, when I found my heart
deeply affected.-Visited Mrs. Sr in the close.
of the day; she still continues a mourner in Sion;
the Lord grant she may reap in joy."
“THURSDAY, 17.-This morning rose at four
o'clock; had much conversation with Mr.
Was much alarmed at some intimation of one who
hath left poor evidences of conversion, after glaring
profession. Lord give me to walk circumspect!
In the fore part of the day was led into some com-
fortable discoveries of salvation. In the afternoon,
preached at Kingswood, from Matt. xi. 28. had
nothing particular. Supped with Mr. Wat
Mrs. D-y's, who is a discrete and well-taught wo-
Various was our conversation, and to some
profit. Returned home at nine o'clock, went to
bed under great bodily weakness. Lord be the
strength of my heart, and my portion for ever."
man.
"SATURDAY, 19-Busily employed writing all
day to my dear friends: was much comforted in
meditation. In the afternoon was much alarmed
in hearing of dear Mr. W―d's sudden illness, which
he writes of as fatal. The Lord prepare us for the aw-
ful event, and grant that it may not be in judg-
ment. In the evening met the children, with
whom I found much liberty; and being much wea-
ried with the work of the day, retired to bed in a
sleepy condition. Slept but uneasy all night,
owing, as I suppose, to the news from Bath; but
am confident of the Lord's tender care over his
church, and his abundant goodness towards her.
Lord, number me with her members, amd grant I
may not be a stranger to the comforts and blessings
of the people."
PART III311
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
.]
III.
"SUNDAY, 20.-This morning waked with my
soul fixed upon God. Preached from Matt. vi. 21.
a large congregation of serious people; I had much
liberty in my soul. At ten, preached at Kings-
wood, from Heb. iv. 16; it was a feeling time.
Dined at Mr. T-'s, where I found great bodily
weakness, was obliged to lie on the bed for two
hours. O happy day, when I shall know no more
pain! In the evening I preached from Psalm xcv.
7, 8.-I just got through the opportunity safely,
but not comfortably; the congregation was very
large and all attentive. O that my hard heart could
have felt more for sinners than it did. Hear by
Mr. Rs, Mr. W-d is dangerous; Lord, pre-
pare us for the awful stroke! I felt much from it last
night, and am apprehensive I have a bitter draught
to drink."
"WEDNESDAY, 23.-After prayer with a few
friends, set out for London, rode all the way by
myself, was sweetly refreshed in reading my New
Testament, and felt the power of these words, “ Je-
sus, thou son of David, have mercy on me!" At
particular times had discoveries of the promised
land and a good hope, through grace, that I should
enjoy it. Laboured under much weakness of bo-
dy in my journey, but the Lord was the strength
of my heart."
"MONDAY, 28.-This morning I wrestled against
flesh and blood, and with the Lord for the con-
quest; when my countenance is smooth and serene,
none but God knows what a rough beat it shadows;
found the battle was the Lord's. Dined with Mr.
W-d at Mr. S―n's, occasional conversation caus-
ed most of us to weep, my memory will always re-
312
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
V
tain the subject; rode with Mr.W-d to Mr. C—d,
a backslider from the truth he once rejoiced in,
how is he now filled with his own ways!"
“Tuesday, 8.-Dined with Mr.Wd at Mrs.
H-g's, with some of Lady H
-n's friends,
conversation profitable. Mr. W-d's remark
was, God always makes use of strong passions for
a great work.'
He wept bitterly in prayer, and in
C
which the whole company was moved."
"THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15.-Was much re-
lieved from my late burden, though much tempt-
ed to doubt of the perpetuity of God's love, but
was enabled to commit my way unto the Lord,
expecting he will bring it to pass."
"FRIDAY, 16.-Much of this day was spent
in sorting my letters. I think myself happy in
enjoying so many valuable correspondents. Oh
that I may follow them, as they follow Christ!
In the evening visited my sister-in-law, whom I
found in dying circumstances, but without any
apparent knowledge of God. Prayed with her,
and attempted to converse with her, but flesh
failed."
"MONDAY, 26.-This morning rose between six
and seven, but poorly in body, comfortable in my
soul. After breakfast walked with Mr. Hd to
chapel; conversed part of the way on the things
of God, much to my comfort.-Preached from His
name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor.' My
soul was much at liberty. Dined with Mr.
Wd, and was enlivened by the table talk.
Mrs. S―k's relation of her experience, was of
great use to me, and taught me how easily God
could pull down every thought that exalteth itself.”
:
·PART III.]
313
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
2
From another diary begun 1775.
“Tuesday, December 13.—This day I left Lan-
caster, was in much weakness; many trials and ma-
ny temptations I have been labouring under for
five months; our parting was solemn and affecting.
Lord grant the seed sown may bring forth fruit to
thy glory.-Preached a farewell discourse at Gars-
tang, had liberty in my soul. Text, Matthew xxv.
6."
"WEDNESDAY, 14.-After a comfortable lodging
at Billsborough, and much edifying discourse
with the family, proceeded to the Field, and preach-
ed at night from Acts xx. 32. It was a time of re-
freshment to my soul. Poor R parted with
grief; I was much affected. Blessed be God, we
have a prospect of a glorious meeting by and by.”
"SATURDAY, 16.-Was much interrupted in study
this day; had many agreeable interviews with
friends; but in the evening found my spirits low,
and my mind very languid: O Lord quicken me
according to thy word."
"SUNDAY, 17.-This day has been a day of fat
things; spiritual blessings multiplied on me abun-
dantly. Mr. M's morning and evening ser-
mons were a great comfort to me. I preached in
the afternoon, but alas! though not altogether
without help, how lifeless when compared with
what I read. O that I may have a more growing
acquaintance with my Bible, and a more experi-
mental knowledge of the great truths it reveals!"
« MONDAY, 25.-This has been a day of contin-
ual hurry; very lifeless in preaching, both at
Hardwicke and Wem; my body faint and weak,
my mind continually agitated, every thing seems
•
!
+
2 E
314
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
!
!
}
gloomy. I am in a straight, whether to settle or
continue an itinerant; I fear to take another step.
Lord direct me!"
"SATURDAY, 30.-Studied the Hebrew Scrip-
tures much this day, together with the English.
Wrote letters and prepared for the pulpit; in
general was refreshed, but towards night felt an
awful gloom come upon my mind from consider-
ing the state of our colonies. If they are ruined,
are not we the cause? Lord! the sin is ours. Par-
don us, and pity them."
"SUNDAY, 31.-Awoke this morning with a
frame suitable to the close of the year; found it
good to draw near to the Lord; heard my old
friend Mr. Hat Shawbury church, from
Psalm xc. 12. it was a rousing sermon, profitable
to my soul. I preached at Hardwicke at night,
with more liberty than usual. Some conversation
passed with Mrs. Ps, and I retired to bed in
much serenity of mind. O that I may begin the
new year with a new heart, and renewed in the
spirit of my mind.”
"SATURDAY, JANUARY 6.—Came to Wem, found
my soul in a spiritual frame, enjoyed liberty in fa-
mily prayer, but barren in private prayer. Retired
to bed in much weakness of body; Oh that my
soul may be strong in the Lord, and in the power
of his might."
"MONDAY, S.-Slept little and very bad. In
the night rose very poorly, spent the mornin in
reading, and writing to Mr. St. Came to
Whitchurch in the afternoon; a bad day to ride.
in, but the Lord was my Preserver. At night he
proved very gracious to me, by giving me much
light, life, and liberty, while speaking from Isaiah
PART III.]
315
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
xii. 3-6. How pleasant it is to work for God,
when God is with us in our work."
"SATURDAY, 20.-Found myself dull and stupid
a great part of the day. Was much in retirement,
read the Scriptures in the original, and closed the
day with a sweet calm on my soul. Had never a
more lively faith in Jesus, and a more heartfelt
sense of his love."
“FRIDAY, 25.—After spending the day in com-
pany with many friends, I walked to Hardwicke,
pretty comfortable in my soul. I dropped an inad-
vertent word this day, that much grieved me.
What need have we to say, Set a watch, O Lord,
over my lips."
"SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 4.-Sorely beset with my
own heart. O how hard a matter to get into a
spiritual frame. I am a teacher of others, and have
much to learn myself. Through mercy was able.
to pay close attention to Mr. Mdy's sermon,
text, Cant. i. 7. I preached twice with some li-
berty, the more to be remarked in the evening, be-
cause I went into the pulpit very sapless in my
own mind. In my evening retirement was much
struck with that part of Gurnal's Christian Ar-
mour, which treats of human learning, necessary
furniture, levity to be avoided by ministers in
preaching, and other interesting particulars. I
bless thee, O Lord, for every thing that rouses my
stupid, and quickens my dead soul."
“FR‹DAY, 9.—Had a very providential journey
to Drayton, escaping heavy weather which began
and continued to fall all the afternoon, Studied
the Greek Testament, and preached in the eve-
ning; but was very much straightened, though
316
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
:
}
several were comforted. Lord, help me to be any
thing or nothing in thy hand, as thou pleaseth,
only let it go well with my soul; then I have no-
thing to fear nor any thing to wish."
“WEDNESDAY, 28.—Continued at Wellington,
and preached from the parable of the virgins; in the
course of this day have been variously exercised.
I find there is no getting to heaven without per-
petual conflicts. "Thanks be to God who giveth
me the victory."
FRIDAY, MARCH 1.-Read Mr. Hervey, and con-
versed much with Miss
on the doctrines of
the gospel; dined with Mr. Y-k, and came after-
wards to Wheaton Ashton. Preached with free-
dom, taken very ill afterwards, and thought the
hour of my departure was at hand. Most of the
night was in great sinking of spirit, but recovered
enough to enable me to rise at two, and proceed
early on my journey; came to Drayton at noon,
and retired and made my will with peculiar solem-
nity on my spirits, but no dread of death. The
whole night was very bad, and expected nothing
less than that I was going into a violent fever;
could hardly lift my head from the pillow."
" WEDNESDAY, 13.-Spent part of the morning
in canvassing Mr. Fletcher's manuscripts, but we
could come to no agreement in sentiment. We
parted in peace and love, and I had a pleasant
ride to Wheaton Ashton, where I preached in
the evening upon Luke xviii. 14. to a little at-
tentive company; spent the evening profitably
with Mr. W– -s, and in submission to the will of
God, left him."
PART III.] HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
317
:
"THURSDAY, 14.-Spent the day at Sherif-hale,
all the company not very agreeable, retired to stu-
dy and read the Scriptures, was happy in my soul,
spoke at night from Romans i. 16. had no liber-
ty. Whenever I lose my feelings, Lord, let it
be to prove my faith, and not as the effect of my
sin."
“SUNDAY, 17.-Have reason to be thankful
for the morning opportunity while expounding
the parable of the publiean; and the residue of
the day, till near six in the evening, was spent
in reading and conflicting with my own heart;
O what a veil does the enemy throw over my mer-
cies, to prevent the sight of them; Lord rend it!
Preached at Shawbury and obtained a little liber-
ty, glory to God. Spent the evening and lodged
comfortably with my dear friend, Mr. H————d.
May I be more thankful for my mercies and less
subject to complain of my crosses.”
"WEDNESDAY, 27.-Wrote to my cousin, and
spent a very agreeable morning in retirement at
Marchemley, preached in the evening with no
very extraordinary freedom, had but an indiffer-
ent night. Mr. -s, conversation was edifying,
I am ashamed of my own preaching when I hear
a rehearsal of his sermons, Lord, help me to im-
prove, as well as blush."
TUESDAY, APRIL 23.-Came early to Wot-
ton this morning, a sweet ride indeed; the rest
of the morning I spent retired, and found it good
to be alone. Drank tea, conversed, and prayed with
the Miss A— -s and Miss D-r. The Lord
was with us of a truth. O that every interview
with my friends may be thus honoured!”
i
*
....
2 E 2
318
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
SATURDAY, MAY 4.-Spent the morning in oc-
casional reading; the afternoon had a short inter-
view with brother Cm. I noticed some things
he said with pleasure. Slept at dear Mr. E's,
found him in a soft frame; was enabled to give
him some important reproofs; he took them kind,
and we parted, I hope the better for our inter-
view."
"WEDNESDAY, 15.-Dined with Mr., of
Ebley; conversation not the most profitable. Par-
don me, O Lord, that I do not meet my friends
more like a minister of Christ."
"MONDAY, 20.-Breakfasted with Mr. Hill
at Ebley; taking a farewell of my dear friend Mr.
Es, who is going to Italy. His mind seems
exceedingly dissipated and unhinged from Jesus;
the Lord restore him! Conversation turned too
much on politics, too little on Christ. Mr. Hill
set off in the afternoon for London, in a sweet
spirit. On the whole this has been a day of dis-
sipation."
"TUESDAY, 21.-Returned to Painswick, con-
versed with brother H-g, but not to my satis-
faction. I find I want grace to bear with the
weakness of my brethren. May they have grace
to bear with mine!"
PART III.]
319
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
CHAPTER II.
A SELECTION OF LETTERS.
THE number of Mr. Winter's correspondents
was peculiarly great.
Exclusive of the letters,
which as having nothing worthy of preservation,
were destroyed as he received them; and the seve-
ral hundreds which he burnt during his last illness.
-some thousands fell into the hands of the exa-
miners of his papers. Their variety is as striking
as their number. They are from persons of all
denominations of religion; of all conditions in
life. Equally observable also are the greatuess
of the esteem, and the warmth of the regard they
express.
As all these were in answer to letters which
he had written, or rendering it necessary for him
to write, it is easy to see how much of his atten-
tion correspondence engrossed. He more than
once complained of the obligations he had con-
tracted; and frequently cautioned his young men
not to follow his example. In one case at least
this advice I fear was pursued to the extreme; and
this he equally censured. The writer is the guil-
ty individual. When therefore I had my last in-
terview with my venerable friend, he asked me
-for he was willing if possible, to learn of those
he had taught, to sketch the outline of a sermon
from the words, "his letters say they are weigh-
ty,”—I complied; but in presenting it, expressed
my wonder at the choice of the subject, and in-
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
FA
:
ted that I could hardly deem it important
enough, for the edification of an audience, many
of whom could not write at all.
He smiled: and
I saw he had gained his object. In this way he
had insinuated a mild reproof. He had drawn
from me some reflections on the utility and im-
portance of letter-writing, by which I own I was
condemned.
To excel in epistolary writing, is an enviable
accomplishment, and may be rendered an instru-
ment of great profit, as well as of pleasure. But
every one has not a talent that is very ready or
edifying. This, however, the deceased had in a
peculiar degree. He wrote with uncommon fa-
cility; and his letters were so full of hints derived
from his own circumstances, or applicable to those
of his correspondents; they were enriched with
such a vein of experimental religion; they ex-
hibited so much of the christian and of the friend
united, that if I had not been urged by others, I
should have been disposed to publish some of
them with the memoirs of his life.
Aware, however, that in general too many pri-
vate letters are made public, I determined to keep
the selection within bounds: but I now find that
I must reduce the allotted number for want of
room, materials having multiplied, as I advanced
with the work. Hence my perplexity of choice,
which was considerable before, is greatly increas-
ed, nor can I presume to say that the very few
which have been taken, are preferable to many
that remain. Those of a pastoral nature seemed to
have a claim: the rest furnish a variety, and turn
on some useful and interesting topic. It was not
PART III.]
321
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
deemed necessary to observe very strictly the or
der of time in which the letters are dated.
Several friends have written requesting me to
send forth an additional number of his letters in a
separate work. To them I take this opportunity
to observe, that what is very interesting to us,
may not be equally so to others: that a sufficiency
is here furnished to serve by way of specimen:
and that if a wish for more be generally expressed,
I shall feel pleasure to indulge it. Of copies and
originals, enough have come into my hands, to
make volumes: and they are all valuable.
To Mr.
"DEAR SIR,
respecting his settlement at Marl-
borough.
"IF the few lines I wrote to you from Griten-
ham engaged your attention, or in any degree rais-
ed your expectation, I am sure my promise being
protracted must tire your patience in proportion.
But two things are my apology, one is, that I have
been in such an unsettled state that unfitted me to
write upon the occasion; the other is, that I had
no objection to let a matter of so great importance
rest, till I could well deliberate upon it in my own
mind. The very signal kindness you have shown
the gospel, from its first entrance into Marlborough
until now, deservedly entitles you to the represen-
tation of the people who profess it: I therefore sup-
pose myself speaking to the church or society
through you, and am persuaded in you they will
322
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
find a tender, steady and affectionate friend. I told
you in my last, I found my mind bend towards the
people, I should have added supposing they are
unanimous in the choice of a pastor; for neither
am I under a necessity to change my present sphere
from any distraction in it, nor would I upon any
consideration be the means of dividing them, nor
come among them, if already divided among them-
selves. It is but reasonable if I enter into a pas-
toral relation with them, that they should know
what I am, and what I wish for, in order to be hap-
py in that relation. I am a Dissenter upon principle,
"though but a young one, having given the prefer-
ence to the establishment till within these two
years. As I am honest to my convictions, so I am
moderate in my conduct, presuming that neither
system is so complete but they both would admit
of an amendment; and as an evangelical minister
in either community would wish to do good, he can
no further succeed than as he is disposed to throw
aside such rigour and austerity as are no where
countenanced in Scripture, nor were encouraged
by the apostle of the Gentiles, or the Master of
that apostle. A compliance with the most eligible
methods for usefulness, if thereby we may gain
some to the faith, is compatible with a strict re-
gard to the word of God. When I profess myself
a Calvinist, and tell you that I preach nothing re-
punant to that scheme of divinity, you may sup-
pose the grand and leading truths of the gospel in
their turn are sincerely, though imperfectly preach-
ed by me; nor am I content to deliver them as a
mere system. Their influences felt and experienc-
ed can only render them beneficial; nor can they
{
PART III.]
323
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
be felt but as they are preached, in a practical ex-
perimental manner, in the demonstration of the
Spirit and with power. Thus to preach is ny en-
deavour, and to come short of it is my sorrow. My
wish in the first place, is to be useful and happy.
Something must be materially wrong when a man
can be content to live a course of years with a peo-
ple in the sacred relation of a pastor, regardless
whether his people thrive or pine away under him.
As such a person answers the character of the neg.
ligent shepherds, Ezekiel xxxiv. 3, 4. his doom
must be that of the careless watchman mentioned
in the foregoing chapter. Usefulness must be the
basis of true happiness: the minister purchases his
happiness at a dear rate who suffers his people to
sleep in their sins-Secondly, that I may have a
discretionary power to make an excursion from
home, upon condition of substituting a proper sup-
ply. Such a stipulation may be considered by
some a weakness, and subversive of the end of the
pastoral engagement; but I apprehend this must
arise from prejudice and mistake. Be assured, dear
sir, I have no intention to subvert the end of a
home by continually being abroad. I have more
than ten years known the want of a retreat, and
with pleasure anticipate what Marlborough may,
(through the divine blessing,) afford. Nevertheless
to me it appears scriptural to blend the itinerant
with the pastor, so far as the former does not pre-
vent a due discharge of the duties of the latter;
and that, under proper regulation, it is profitable
both to minister and people, is evident by compar
ing the prosperity of those societies that encourage
it with those that disapprove it.-Third, that my
324
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
stipend, if consistent with the circumstances of
the people, may commence at 40l. per annum,
and if prosperity should attend our union, and by
change of condition I should find it necessary, I
may be at liberty to ask more. This article being
well thought of and honourably settled, will be-
come a rule for my conduct both in domestic eco-
nomy, and in the pursuit of social happiness. I am
well aware that my subsistence much depends upon
the consistency of my deportment, the success of
my ministry, and the circumstances and disposition
of the people. As I would make the glory of God
and their good my sole aim, I am willing to rest
the issue upon these concomitants. It is too late
in the day for me to begin to be mercenary, and if
little will suffice, I shall not think of asking for more.
Hitherto I can, through grace, accommodate the
saying of the apostle to my own conduct, We
seek not yours but you.' Having no fortune of my
own, makes it necessary to propose, fourthly, that
I may have the disposal of the sacramental alms.
My own liberalities cannot be large, hitherto they
have been to the very extent of my circumstances,
nor do I wish to curtail them by this requisite. In
market towns the sick poor are generally nume-
rous, and the alms of the minister accompanying
his prayers, do much to remove prejudice and bring
them under the word. These are the principal
terms of settlement that at present strike me, and if
reasonable objections can be made against them, I
shall be ingenuous enough to yield to them. Nei-
ther in these or any thing else do I desire to lord
it over God's heritage. Should a connexion take
place between us, I trust our stipulation will not
PART III.]
325
HIS LIFE CONTINUED,
be that of master and servants, but of a more sacred
and fraternal nature. No conditions are so binding
as those arising from affection, no bonds so lasting
as those made up of the unity of the Spirit. My
brethren will do well to remember that a man, and
not an angel, is putting himself in their way; a man
subject to like passions, surrounded with many and
great temptations, a man at best but of very slender
giſts, and of a small degree of grace,who needs their
pity and prayers; and promises not to seek for domi-
nion over their faith, but to strive in the strength
of divine grace, to be the helper of their joy.
Should I have the opportunity to approve myself
what I profess, it will be but prudent in me to re-
member the people are in some instances a coun-
terpart of myself, and will require the exercise of
those graces which are opposite to the dictates and
inclinations of our corrupt nature. If the provi-
dence of God should bring us together, and by the
uniting of our affections and the tenderness of our
spirits towards each other, we should be conti-
nued together any time on earth, I trust it will be
the matter of our everlasting rejoicing in heaven.
With my kind respects to your family, and chris-
tian love to all whom these may concern,
“ Į remain,
"Dear sir, &c."
43
1
2 F
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
!
:
M
-
326
To the Church under his care at Painswick, res-
pecting an assistant.
“ MY DEAR BRETHREN,
T
"It was my intention long since, to have ac-
knowledged the address communicated to me by
Messrs. Wood and Horlick.-I feel myself much
obliged for the acceptance you, and others whose
names are not added to the address, have given to
the sincere, though feeble services I have rendered
you by the ministry of the word, and by other en-
deavours I have exerted for the cause of Christ in
this neighbourhood, for full seventeen years.-I
am, blessed be God, in full mental capacity for
the continuance of my labours, though bodily
strength certainly declines.As the result, I bend
under the weight of a third service on the Lord's
day. This is a service by no means necessary for
the pious part of the congregation.-I at first es-
tablished and have continued it for the benefit of
our neighbours, supposing if they are inclined to
hear, God may bless the word to them. However
desirable assistance may have been, I could not
encourage the hope of it, not having it in my pow-
er to make the necessary compensation hitherto.
Providence having been graciously pleased to
throw the property of my late friend and relative
into my bands, I thought it necessary, from the ac--
knowledgment I have received for my labours, to
make it practicable to have an assistant, and when
the expenses of our building are completely defray-
ed, to support him from my salary.-My valued
friends Messrs. --called my attention to
I am informed his service does not meet with appro-
PART III.]
327
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
As
bation sufficient to admit of a hope that he may
constantly take part in the ministry with me.—I
shall not think of imposing him upon you.
soon as I conveniently can, I shall resign him, and
in the mean while as God shall enable me, will
persevere in my ministry as usual, not doubting but
when I fail, God will provide for you.
In the mean while I beg an interest in your pray-
ers, and exhort you to pray that in due time the
great head of the church may meet our wishes, if he
see it fit to send me help, or that if either by reason
of weakness I should be laid aside, or be removed to
my rest, the man after his own heart may be the
overseer of you.-The fragment of my days and
strength, shall, in the strength of divine grace, he
as much as ever devoted to your best interest.—My
study shall be the harmony, the prosperity, the
comfort and improvement of the church and con-
gregation.—I would wish to be as an affectionate
father among his children, seeking not yours, but
you, and if in any thing my conduct should be
contrary to this protestation, on its being pointed
out, I will endeavour to correct it. May we all
remember that we are professedly the followers of
Jesus he was meek and lowly in heart, and among
his disciples as one that served; thus by copying
after him, may we be possessed of humbleness of
mind, of charity, which is the bond of perfectness,
and in every respect walk worthy of the vocation.
wherewith we are called, aud adorn the doctrine of
God our Saviour in all things.-I exceedingly la-
ment the opposite temper, spirit, and conduct which
is among us, and am so far from thinking myself
free from blame, that I bewail my imperfections
1
!
}
<
▼
328
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
***
*
་་
before God, and am sorry that in any instance
I have given offence.--But he who knoweth the
heart, can discriminate between infirmity that mixes
with a small measure of zeal for his glory, and wil-
ful sin; between that weakness of nature that clogs
the wheels of the soul, and that sluggishness which
is indulged without regard to divine honour. That
we may walk in love, and live in the mutual exer-
cise of grace one towards another, and altogether
glorify God in our bodies and spirits, which are his,
is, and shall be, the prayer of,
"My dear brethren,
Yours, affectionately,
"In our dear Lord Jesus.
"Iill Farm, Oct. 19, 1805."
1
To the same, when confined by his fracture.
"MY DEAR PEOPLE,
"My present affliction has given me full proof
of that concern of which I never harbou red a
doubt, namely, your affection for me; and he who
knoweth all things, knoweth that I have an equal
share for you.
We can mutually bear our testimo-
ny to the reciprocal attachment between the shep-
herd voluntarily chosen, and the flock, the care
of which is freely accepted. How different is such
a connexion from that of a minister performing his
duty officially only, and a people who are habituat-
ed only to a frigid service! My present confine-
ment gives me opportunity to review my past life
and labours among you, with neither of which am
I so fully satisfied, as to be entirely quicted from
PART III.]
329
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
the censure of my own heart. Indeed, I have al-
ways been sensible that you had a claim upon me,
for the answering of which, I have wanted capaci-
ty rather than inclination. I am now, by the provi-
dence of God, set aside from service, and am taught
by experience to sympathize with, and pray for,
those who are the subjects of affliction: but I be-
lieve, through your prayers and the supply of the
spirit of Christ, that which is an apparent evil,
will work together for good. It is instructive to
us all, and is a sermon, which if properly improv-
ed, is as efficacious as any that could be preached
from the pulpit.
"I set out from the house of our venerable dy-
ing friend with cautious steps, after having prayed
that we might all be prepared for what God has
prepared for us; and if caution, independent of God,
had been sufficient, I had not fallen. We need
continually to recollect that address once made by
an eminent saint, in these words, Hold thou re
up and I shall be safe,"
'
"There is a material difference between falling
through what is called accident, and falling by sin;
from the former we are not always secure, from the
latter we may be-through him who is able to
keep us. He does keep the feet of the saints, and
his grace is sufficient for all who apply to him for
it. A disaster tending to break the bones of any
of our members, is nothing, compared with the
wound a soul receives by a fall into sin. In the
former case, experience teaches me there is peace
and quietness, which throbbing pain, and the un-
easiness of a fixed unusual posture for many days,
cannot interrupt; in the latter is an experience,
2 F2
330
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
1
#
:
that I pray God we may all be strangers to—of
doubt and disquietude, fear and trembling; a
heavy scourge, and hard to be borne; and which,
if given up to hardness of heart, does but prepare
us for that awful state, where there remaineth no
more sacrifice for sin.
"We distinguish between the backslider who
falls to rise, who returns unto the Lord and is heal-
ed; and the backslider in heart, who is filled with
his own ways. But if we love him who loved us,
who gave himself a sacrifice for us, we should ab-
hor the idea of departing from him, and of causing
his Holy Spirit to depart from us. Connected with
this disposition there is a duty inculcated upon us.
It is watchfulness and prayer; of these consist the
Christian's intrenchment, these are the lines our
enemy cannot break; be the person who uses them
ever so weak, he will be sure to stand; be the per-
son who neglects them, ever so strong in himself,
ever judiciously taught, or ever so extensive in his
knowledge, he is liable to fall.-Honour God in
all the means, of his appointment. Be attentive
to social prayer, let the time when most suitable,
and the place where it may be most convenient to
be carried on, and the length of the exercise be
studied for general advantage. Do not let family
worship and the catechising of children be neglect-
ed. Be stated and regular in your attendance up-
on the word. In this latter duty three things are
to be regarded, the information of the judgment,
the raising the soul to a state of communion with
God, and unimpeached morality. The latter is by
the apostle Peter, denominated All holy conver
sation.' In this, perhaps, we are too deficient, and
་
PART III.]
331
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
therefore subject ourselves to mutual reflection,
and prevent gainsayers from receiving the force of
the word, and joining in our communion. I wish
my own ministry, as long as I am continued among
you, may have a most blessed effect, that the world
may have no evil thing to say of you; and during
the time of the suspension of my ministry, it shall
be my earnest prayer, that the occasional services
which may be afforded us, may be alike effectual,
Our beloved brother, Mr. Bishop of Gloucester, has
most kindly engaged to arrange our supplies, and
as they will consist of the whole association, I
should hope no one will consider himself under a
necessity to wander from home. All are not alike
steady in their attendance, yet the exception is very
inconsiderable.
"I need not commend myself to your prayers:
I have to thank you already for my interest in them.
Cease not to pray that I may be restored to you a-
gain if it be the will of God; and that it may be
found that my affliction is eventually your conso-
lation. It is but a little while at longest I can ex-
pect to be with you as long as it may be, O! let it
prove for Your furtherance and joy of faith; On-
ly let your conversation be, as becometh the gospel
of Christ, that whether I come to see you, or else
be absent, I may hear of your affairs; that ye stand
fast in one spirit, with one mind, striving together
for the faith of the gospel.' For that which is in
consistent with the pure principles referred to by
the apostle, as the faith of the gospel, will bewil
der our judgment, invalidate the precious Saviour
in our esteem, and raise in us a self-importance,
*
332
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
=
>
which the Lord approveth not; it will lead us into
the mistake of substituting tinsel for gold, and of
placing unallowed merit in morality. I inculcate
morality upon you, with all my powers, but then it
is as the fruit of a tree made good. The morality
I would largely inculcate, extends to every relation
and to every avocation of life, that the enemies to
the truth of the gospel may have no evil thing to
say of you, but otherwise they may sce you have
your fruit out of holiness, as you expect the end
will be everlasting life. Under the influence of
grace that enables you so to live and act, you will
be at an entire distance from the spirit of the age;
its vanities will not be able to fasten upon you in a
way of attraction, you will keep yourself unspotted
from the world, find true joys in religion, and your
time will be fully occupied between its duties and
the avocations of life. You will not withdraw from
society, nor insult it by moroseness. You will ob-
serve due decorum, be courteous towards all men,
and by supporting the consistency of your charac-
ter, you will be well understood by men who can-
not dive into your views, yet will sooner or later
admire in you, what they themselves cannot imme-
diately drop into: by your good conversation which
they shall behold, they may be awakened and won,
and perceiving that God is with us of a truth, the
day of their visitation may be drawn on, in which
they also may glorify God. But whither am I go-
ing? Without prudent caution into the length-of
a sermon, and far exceeding the limits of a letter.
I hope again to address you by an amanu‹nsis, till
I be restored to see you face to face, in the re-as-
PART III.]
333
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
sumption of my pulpit exercises. Till then, and
for ever,
"I am,
"Your faithful and affectionate minister,
"And friend in the bonds of the
"Everlasting gospel"
To the same.
"MY EVER DEAR, AND
"HIGHLY BELOVED PEOPLE,
“NEARLY a week has elapsed since my address
to you, in which time I am brought under in-
creasing obligation to love you, and to thank you
for the early attention you have manifested to
my necessities, which your tender care led you
to conceive would be considerable by the afflic
tion I am exercised with. It would be sinful se-
crecy that would prevent me now from saying, I
have all things and abound The supply of my
wants is ample, while you continue in prayer for
me that I may be restored unto you with an in-
crease of spirituality and zeal; and that I may
adopt the most effectual methods to be com-
municative, while I receive your communica-
tions, is a part of my prayers which I offer fre
quently upon the bed, to which I apprehend I
must submit to be long confined. My joy in part
is, that I have a list amply filled of brethren,
who make their free will off rings to serve you
in the the ministry till I am restored unto you
again. You may disarm yourselves of suspicion
334
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
that any thing will be advanced by them but
the pure unadulterated gospel of Christ-may
every sermon be impressed upon your souls, and
while faith and practice are inculcated upon you,
may you unanimously say, All that the Lord
speaketh unto us by his servants, that in the
strength of his grace, will we do. If I say, take
heed how you hear, it is to exhort you not to be
hearers only, but doers of the word. Pray to the
Father of Lights that he may make you the chil-
dren of the light and of the day; that under the
guidance of his Holy Spirit you may be led ful-
ly and deeply into the truth as it is in Jesus, and
that you may support your characters by walking
as the sons of God, unreproveable and unrebuke-
able in the midst of a crooked and perverse gene-
ration. You will then live under the banner of
his fatherly protection, who, though he may not
suffer you to escape affliction, will support you
under it, at whatever time it is his pleasure you
should be exercised thereby; and make the bit-
ters of your cup subservient to the health of your
Deter-
souls, and preparatory of eternal glory.
mine by divine grace to be nothing short of what
you
should be; answer to the character of Israel-
ites indeed, in whom there is no guile-be con-
tinual in your application to the precious Saviour,
from whose fulness you may always be supplied
with grace; and in virtue of his communications
you may make your boast-In the Lord have I
righteousness and strength.' Observe all his or-
dinances, and come into that contact with each
other, that will dispose you to form a commu-
nion which will distinguish you as members of
Fa
PART III.]
335-
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
!
the church, as well as general hearers of the word,
How glad shall I be to see you all disposed to
join yourselves to the Lord, and to be found at
that sacred table where there is meat to be receiv-
ed, the world knows nothing of. I am more and
more impressed with a conviction that the ordinance
of the sacred supper is neglected by many of you,
who, I am persuaded have a title to it, through
him who receiveth sinners upon the terms of free
grace, and inviteth them to come without money
and without price. I hope our brethren who con-
stitute an organized church in this place, will
not make the door of admission narrower than
that which is referred to in this language,
"Be-
hold I have set before you an open door.”
is sad that such a door should remain open, and
so few be disposed to enter.
But I find I must
desist.
It
"That God's blessing may be upon all our
attempts wherein his glory is concerned, that all
our comforts and all our crosses may be alike
sanctified, that we whose union is so close, and
who meet together for public worship upon earth,
may at last meet in glory, is the prayer of,
(C
My dear friends, &c."
E
To
E—s, Esq.
" HONOURED AND VERY DEAR SIR,
“YESTERDAY I had the pleasure of dear Mrs.
for an auditor. I sent one of my pupils
for her on a double horse, and, with Mrs. Win-
336
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
A
***
ter, escorted her home in the evening, to your
most pleasant and comfortable mansion, where we
have each laid down in peace and slept and risen
again, because the Lord has made us dwell in
safety. I hope your journey has been pleasant aud
prosperous, and that with a mind staid upon God,
you are waiting the providential opportunity to re-
turn, determined to be happy. Should not the
toil be entirely unloosed at once, let the idea that
it will be one day or another, keep you patient;
and though litigation may be settled with loss, let
the consideration that it is but a partial loss, re-
concile your mind to it. Revolve in your own
mind the comforts remaining, and give to God the
sacrifice of praise. I know I am but expressing
your own sentiment, when I say your obligations
to God are not the less because your property is
paternal. By reflection and expression of grati-
tude, the mind may be advanced to an amazing
pitch, and without some effort of this nature, we
may possess the Indies without enjoying a mite of
our possession. If to so valuable and dear friend
as Mr. E-s, I mention any thing of my own frame
and conduct, it is solely with a view to set him
upon the same successful expedient of acquiring
present tranquillity of mind. I would look not at
what I want, but at what I have. I would reflect
not how great are my trials in life, but how much
greater than they are, they might be. I have but
a little while to be here, and why should I not
enjoy myself on my journey? If the way is rug-
ged, the end will compensate; and keeping it in
view, I reckon the sufferings of this present time
are not worthy to be compared with the glory that
+
PART III.]
337
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
is to be revealed. These I frankly acknowledge,
not from ostentation, or as conceiving they are in
me a merit, or that by my own power I thus act,
but to exemplify what advantage you in your easy
circumstances may live under. Next to God and
Christ, love yourself, nourish and cherish your
own flesh, by which I mean, make every rational
and scriptural exertion to enjoy what God has gra-
ciously given you; and in order to this, first study
the peace of your mind, and then the most proba-
ble means to restore and preserve the health of
your body. In matters of religion use your judg-
ment, and reduce it to practice. Rely upon the
Saviour for pardon, look to him for peace, and ho-
nour his commands and appointments in evidence
that you love him. Pray for grace and strength,
and he will make you equal to all that exertion
which is expected from the man and the christian.
See, dear sir, how soon I catch at your permission.
to drop you a line, aud by my didactical strain,
what liberty I take from it. I know you will par-
don my freedom, and accept my intention as a pep-
per-corn of gratitude for the innumerable instances
of your long and steady friendship, which as I
most highly esteem for its own sake, rather than
for the repeated pledges of it, I hope I shall never
by imprudence, as I am sure I shall never with in-
tention, forfeit. Mrs. E————— desires that my pen
may communicate her kindest love, and is pleased
to require me to add, she wishes you joy, of your
correspondence.
"I am, &c."
+
2 G
338
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
*
To Mrs. Br.
"MY DEAR MADAM,
"I HAVE not forgotten you, though I have
not before communicated to you the pleasure I
feel on hearing of the mercy you obtained by a
safe birth. As for this blessing I bore you on my
heart in prayer, so your deliverance has excited
my warmest praise. I hope continual mercy at-
tends you, and that you are kept in the delight.
ful exercise of thanksgiving, stimulated by in-
creasing favours peculiar to your situation. I shall
be thankful when I have an opportunity given
me to magnify the Lord, together with you. At
present I am detained from home to acquire all
I can for the purpose of preventing debt being
contracted, or of making it as light as possible.
Till lately I have heard nothing from our com-
mittee, but I find my disappointment has been
partly owing to my frequent and uncertain move-
ments. I compare myself to a man worn out
with repeated shocks of electricity, and therefore
But if I
would avoid a future one if he could.
add to the sum already acquired, I must under-
go shock upon shock yet. My journies, though
trying from being obliged to appear before stran-
gers as a mendicant, have been attended with
I have been providentially di-
many mercies.
rected unto many quarters, where friendship has
displayed itself; and it has been thought a kind
Providence that has given occasion to an inter-
I
view hardly expected on this side the grave.
have seen the grace of God in many of the church-
es of the saints, and have been made glad by the
evidence that God has not left his people desti-
PART III.]
339
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
tute of his mercy and truth. In our quarter I
trust these divine properties are conspicuous.-
May you have abundant proof of the faithfulness
of God, to the promises upon which you are caus-
ed to hope. Your new relation gives a turn to
your attention, and a fresh channel is now open
for your affection to flow in. May the dear infant
graciously given to you be continued, and parental
care be attended with divine blessing from God,
that you may rear into maturity the tender plant,
and have your present care rewarded with future
comfort. Attention to the dear child will not
divert you from the Father of your mercies. You
are now as ever, I am persuaded, open to divine
communication, and are frequently turning to
heaven and eternal glory, as to the ultimate of
all enjoyments. When providentially detained
from those public ordinances, which have been
and are your delight, by the attention your infant
charge may claim, may the sacred Scriptures open
to you in your retirement, and through them as
the grand medium of conveyance, may the living
water flow to your refreshment. With Jesus is
an infinite source, and the streams run from him
in all directions, that they may follow after, and
meet the subjects of his love in whatever situa-
tion the providence of God may place them.
When he by his Spirit excites a thirst in our
souls, by that same Spirit he will dispose us to
look for that supply he only has to impart, and
we shall experience that with him is the foun-
tain of life. If we abide by him, we shall be
sure to be well supplied, but if we leave him for
cisterns, disappointment will be the consequence.
340
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
:
1
Wherever I go I find they are the happiest, who
make much of their Saviour. He honours the
confidence of his people, and whatever he pro-
mises he will give, none ever trusted in him and
were disappointed. On Monday evening I had
a short interview with Mrs. W- from whom
I learned the state of your family. I hope all
the afflictions with which it may be exercised will
prove blessings. I supposed Mrs. B's health
had acquired stability, and was surprised to hear
that it had been so seriously attacked again. Mr.
B——— I find is hardly strong enough for a soldier.
I hope he never will be called to take the field.
If an invalid, he had better consult his constitu-
tion, than stand upon a point of honour; and
nurse himself, rather than hazard himself to wea-
thers which might endanger a life too valuable
to be sacrificed by neglect. I hope he will ac-
cept my warmest salutations, and that he will
consider himself a sharer with you in the congra-
tulation, which I tender on the birth and continu-
ance of the dear child; and if my prayers have
efficacy enough to prevail, he with you will have
days long upon earth, and at the end of them an
abundant entrance ministered into the everlast-
ing kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
Thither two valuable ministers have gained ad-
mission, whose usefulness I supposed might have
been continued for years to come. I expect Mr.
Newton will soon be on the list of the glorified;
I had a most satisfactory interview with him yes-
terday morning. I wish I could give his conver-
sation, his family exposition, and prayer, upon pa-
per; but I must reserve the recital for our meet-
:
+
PART III.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
341
ing, if God permit. Accept, in the mean while,
these incoherent lines as they are directed, with a
design to assure you, that
"I am, dear Madam,
"London, Nov. 23, 1803."
"Yours, &c.
"I have opened my letter on purpose to beg
you to present my best respects to Mr. B
B-
I think of him often. I detained this
letter the longer in hope of meeting with a frank.
I cannot bear to put my friends to the expense of
postage, if it be possible to avoid it; but an un-
willingness to appear to neglect when I really do
not intend it, makes me send this through the
common medium.
To Mr. W}.
"MY EVER, AND VERY DEAR SIR,
« HAVING at an early hour consecrated myself
unto God, a part of that time which he has gra-
ciously continued unto me, I dedicate in attention
to you. In the course of my long absence you
have often been in my thoughts, nor have you
been excluded from my prayers. I am happy in
the occasion now given me to address you, and
wish any thing that may drop from my pen may
be refreshing to you. I have attended to the
prime object of your letter, and applied to a per-
son who I think, if he can be procured, would
answer Mr. J—'s description. In a day or two I
shall know his mind. It is probable, while I am
throwing a few lines together, you are tossing up-
2 G 2
:
:
342
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
}
:
on the sca; but I trust it is under the protection
of Him who gives the waves their fury, who agi-
tates the sea when it roars and is tempestuous, and
who has power at any time to reduce into a calm,
and make its surface as smooth as a looking-glass.
Ile has not only power over the sea to control it,
but also over the passions and principles of wicked
and unreasonable men, of which the raging waves
are a true emblem. We have, as a people, to do
with such, and whether they may have power to
act against us at all, or with what degree of suc-
cess, is uncertain. Numbers are interceding with
heaven, and pleading, 'Spare thy people, O Lord.'
-May he in auswer to prayer, raise a bulwark con-
sisting of stronger materials than earth can produce,
and then all the precautions we may take will be
serviceable and successful; but if salvation be not
of the Lord, vain is the wisdom, the foresight, and
the help of man. Our discouragement arises from
our national sins, which may deservedly cause the
Lord's ear to be heavy that it will not hear, and
should it be the case that the overflowing scourge
should pass through the land, we who, through
grace, are not partakers of her evil deeds, shall find
support under the judgments which may be abroad
in the earth, and shall be safe in those chambers
which our covenant God may provide for his peo-
ple. We must not expect our exemption from, but
we may expect supports in trouble. An interest in
his loving kindness will secure to us the interposi-
tion of his providential goodness on our behalf.
What his word records relative to this point, may
you, my dear sir, have an enlarged and continual
experience of, and thus have authority to say to all
}
PART III.]
343
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
around you, ' O taste and see that the Lord is good,
blessed is the man that trusteth in him.' If I call
your attention to myself, I must say, with respect
to the business I have in hand, I have been won-
derfully led. I did not know for some time before
I set out, what course to take; but I found my
mind calm while my prospects were clouded. I
was preparing for another journey at the instant
that a letter, foreign to my business, required me
to come to London, and I scarcely entered upon
my application, when I was pressed into the east-
ern part of the kingdom. In different places my
ministry has met with a kind reception, and my
applications, which, as I expected would be the
case, though they have clashed with many others,
have not been repulsed. Particular sums are small,
but in the aggregate they amount to more than
which I would fain bring to before I
return, nor need I fear of success; but I find myself
very inadequate to the fatigue of soliciting from
house to house, and the damp and rainy weather.
has a very serious effect upon my frame. It brings
spasms in my stomach and limbs, and I find precau-
tions necessary, lest 1 lay myself up. The mercies
attendant on this journey have been innumerable;
but they have not exempted me from a considera-
ble degree of self-denial. There is no possibility
of advancing in the Christian ministry and of per-
forming the several duties connected with it, with-
out it, especially in that department of the church
where I am in providence fixed. Mine through
life has been up-hill work, and the whisper in my
ear has been Do all things without murmuring.' ✔
"I would copy the obedience of Christ, of whom
it is significantly remarked, that 'lIe pleased not
2
344.
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
himself,' and therefore when required, would give.
up the luxury of retirement to mix with the crowd,
and those improvements which I am coveting after,
that I may impart from the inconsiderable stock
of knowledge God has graciously given to me. I
feel mortified in being the beggar, and my pride is
often humbled by unbecoming repulse, and by the
ungracious manner in which some grant the request
of my lips. But as in this way, I am, pro tempore,
called to glorify God, I yield to the mortification,
and contrast to it the suavity with which my dear
Mr. W―n, and a few others who are kindred
souls, give treble consequence to their benevo-
lence. It is not the minister's lot only to be mor-
tified. You, my dear sir, have the bitter ingredient
of mortification in the cup of life. A part of it I
am persuaded, consists in your being obliged to
leave your consecrated and tranquil home to mix
with the different tempers of the passengers in a
vessel. Mix I should not say. It is one thing to
accommodate ourselves to company we cannot
avoid, and to pass the ceremony of civility, another
to unite. Light and darkness are as distinct in
the spiritual as in the natural world; and the ques-
tion, what fellowship hath the former with the lat-
ter, amounts to a strong negation, none at all. Bless-
ed be God that you are the child of the light and
of the day. I need not say, walk as the child of the
light. May your steps be exactly followed by
those who profess to be in the same communion,
and never deviate in their conformity to you, in
the vessel, in the dwelling, in the counting-house,
and in the church; then they will prove that they
are a part of the remnant which is according to the
PART III.]
345
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
election of grace, and such of them as are wise and
discreet ministers will never make that a stone of
stumbling, and a rock of offence, which God puts in
the way of his people, as a prevention against
boasting, and as an incentive to give all the glory
of their salvation to him: Such a minister I hope
the vacant pulpit at S———— M-
will one day be
filled with. Excuse, my very dear sir, the paper
and the imperfection, both of the writing and of
the subject. My prayers will ever be offered up
for you. My warmest wishes attend you for the
success of your voyage. My heart's desire is,
that I may see you safe in Stroud, and that, by the
grasp of my hand, as well as by the strokes of my
pen, I may be permitted to express myself
"Yours affectionately, &c.
"No. 30, Gracechurch Street, London,
"Nov. 30, 1803."
X
Fo Mrs. H-gs.
"MY DEAR BEREAVED FRIEND,
"I CANNOT say how sorry I am for your very
great loss, and for the dear children who share with
you in it. It seems to me now as though the stay
of my friendship is by this providence broke in
Bristol, and though it is an event common to man,
and what I have been very familiar with, yet every
fresh instance awakens surprise, and for a while
swallows up a recollection of what is past. I was
in hope of receiving better news, though I feared
that which I yesterday received would come. On
Sabbath day I said it was probable we should have
Mr. H with us for change of air. It is other
346
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
IRS
wise ordered, and permit me to say, well ordered,
by him who can do nothing wrong. The air is
changed, and a blessed exchange it is to him who
is gone to a region where the inhabitants have no
sickness to endanger them, and no maladies to com-
plain of. The nerves are braced to their proper
tone, and all is well, eternally well. Do not you,
my dear friend, repine at the providence, but trust
the promise of which, till now, you were not the
subject. You who were a few days since the wife
of youth, are now a woman forsaken and grieved
in spirit; but comfort will take place of grief after
nature has had her full vent, if you can but turn to
the widow's God and receive the Lord of Hosts,
the Holy one of Israel, the God of the whole earth,
in the near relation in which he condescends to
describe himself in the fifty-fourth chapter of
Isaiah. To prevent your fear and inspire your
confidence, treasure up in your mind a recollec-
tion of the devine description, A Father of the
fatherless, and a Judge of the widow, is God in his
holy habitation,' who, amidst the difficulties and
the sorrows and dangers with which life is attend-
ed, preserveth the fatherless and the widow, and
relieveth them out of every distress. You are left
in merciful, though not in affluent circumstances.
May it please God to spare your good and kind fa-
ther to you, till you are capable of acting more in-
dependent of aid than you can just at present.
Be the widow indeed, trust in God, and continue
in prayer night and day. Let a proper attention
be paid to the education of the dear children, and
let it be exact and solid so far as it goes, rather than
so extensive and profuse as to them for an
PART III.]
347
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
early admission into active life, and to unfit them
for the ordinary duties of it. You may receive
general advice from your friends upon this head, as
well as upon what respects yourself, but Providence
will unfold his own purposes. While you lie in
a dependance upon the oar, waiting for his com-
mission, he will notice you according to the ap-
pointed time.-Whatever difficulties there are be-
fore us, there are none before God; and therefore
in a way and manner that never could be thought
of, he has reared up into, and carried through life,
thousands and thousands, whose afflictions have far
exceeded yours. Let us with all the attention we
pay to the duties incumbent upon us, prepare for
our own dismission; we are soon to follow those
who have preceded, perhaps very soon. O that
we may live in the habitual exercise of grace, and
being found in Jesus Christ, may have nothing to
do but to yield up ourselves when the summons
shall be sent for us. Our attachments to this mor-
tal state are loosened by our friends being removed
before us.
Their continuance is not so essential
to us as we are apt to imagine, and therefore do not
let us grudge them their escape.
But with a be-
coming resignation yield to the sovereignty of the
divine conduct, and be thankful for the satisfacto-
ry evidence we receive from their expiring breath,
that they had firm footing for their feet when earth
receded from them. I am thankful for my dear
friend, that it was the case with him. I hope that
you, from a reflection upon this instance of the
Lord's indulgence to him, are freely resigning him,
and that living upon the promise to which we have
reference, and prepared for all future providences,
348
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
+
you will be a follower of him, and all who through
faith and patience are numbered with the saints in
light. Mrs. W is, with me, much affected
with the news, and concerned for it; she unites in
tender sympathetic affection. If a journey hither
be practicable, and it would conduce to the re-
freshment of your spirits, we should be exceeding-
ly glad to see you. Let us hear in some little time
how you do. Our love to Mrs. H if she is
capable of receiving it. It may be well that her
feelings upon this occasion are capable of diversion.
I am pleased to hear the dear children have so much
sensiblity. I hope you will have them under com-
mand, and receive uninterrupted expressions of en-
dearing duty from them. Though not without our
complaints, we have reason to be thankful it is so
well with us. But we feel our mortality, and trust
we are preparing for our immortality. I have not
wrote to Mrs.
yet, but I think I shall take the
advantage of this providence, as it will furnish me
with serious matter. I beg to be remembered
kindly to Mr. S and Mrs. H H- - and the
young gentlemen, and remain,
"My dear bereaved friend,
"Your much affected, &c.
"Painswick, July 13, 1792.”
To J. L—e, Esq.
"MY VERY DEAR SIR,
"HAD it been the case that before the summer
had closed we had been favoured with your compa-
ny, I should have numbered it with the blessings of
the year. I have blessings in abundance for which
to be thankful, yet not unconnected with trials
PART III.]
349
HIS LIFE continued.
which have chequered them; yet of these wou'd I
not complain; they are blessings, though in their
present form, nature recoils at them. The great
cause of complaint is in myself. I cannot do the
things that I would. Barrenness restrains ideas;
and when they rise, the poverty of them makes me
groan. I am obliged to labour hard for a lit-
tle, and am often busy in doing nothing.-
The occurrences of the day engross my time,
and break in upon my plans, so that I am al-
ways behind hand in what I propose. How
must this appear to you, who amidst your impor-
tant avocations and severer studies, can find leisure
and strength for the study of divinity, and can
produce meditations for length and depth of thought
such as I am favoured with? I hope to have more
in addition to those I have already, as your leisure
will allow of my being gratified. May heavenly
influence rest upon your soul, and diffuse itself by
your pen to him who dearly loves you. I hope
Mrs. L is in health, and that when I am fa-
voured by hearing from you again, I shall be in-
formed that the dear children are in a thriving
state. They have entered life at a very eventful
time. They will, if spared, review the history of
the present period, be witness to some of the won-
ders with which it is pregnant, and I trust, parta-
kers of that grace which will more generally then
prevail. The darkuess of the night connects with
the dawn of the morning; so do dark providences
with those bright things, after which the promises
raise our expectation. Why they should come with
so slow process, be delayed to so distant a period,
and be preceded with such desolations as perhaps
I
2 HI
350
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
:
*
we are to share in, is an inquiry only to be resolv-
ed by a reference to the divine sovereignty, and we
must therefore conclude it is good and right. Upon
this consideration we acquiesce in the providences
which more directly respect ourselves and our im-
mediate connexions, and endeavour to console our
afflicted friends, whom we know to be the subjects
of divine grace, by referring them to heaven under
their severe trials. In that blessed state, where the
government is perpetual and the king everlasting,
sin being for ever excluded, no pride, animosity, or
any thing productive of strife, can corrupt, irritate
and disconcert the union and happiness of its in-
habitants. Among them we shall stand in our lot.
What is allotted to us here, is patiently and submis
sively to be borne, I had almost said cheerfully;
but as no chastening, which is but another word
for affliction, seemeth for the present to be joy-
ous, it is not to be supposed that a bright face can
unite with an afflicted mind. Sometimes the
thoughts and the evidences of heaven are overpow-
ering to our sorrow, like a third or fourth quantity
of sweet, acting against a single quantity of bitter.
Nor would this rarely be the case, if we were more
in communion with God, and had our conversation
in heaven, and we were from thence looking for the
coming of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Lest
I should seem to make a text in the Hebrews clash
with a text in the Romans, I would observe,
that there is a difference between an affliction en-
tailed by our sins, and one that ariseth from the
opposition of men to the work of God, or the suf
ferings of the Christian for righteousness' sake. A
martyr's suffering, when the cause has been good,
+
PART III.
351
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
(
•
has had more than a fourth or a tenth of pleasure
acting against pain, and from such instances we
see how God can act upon us, to make us at least
equal to whatsoever he calls us to bear. My dear
friend might have supposed by the strain of my
writing that I am under a particular exercise, had
I not prevented the thought in the beginning of
the letter. But no; by bending to the times they
are not yet too hard for us, though universal expe
rience proves that the expense of housekeeping is
doubled since I became a housekeeper. The dis-
tresses of the poor are not so easily relieved, though
in consequence of the advanced price upon all the
articles of life, their distresses are very considera-
bly increased. The cause of the exorbitant prices
of provision is matter of speculation as yet unex-
plored. Perhaps the lightness of the last crop of
wheat and barley accounts in part for the high rate
at which these are purchased; and during the
drought we could admit of the reason for butter
and cheese being advanced. But how mercifully
did a fortnight's rain'give verdure to the creation and
grass to the cattle, which has continued till now
so plentiful that it is a matter for admiration. Why
then these conimodities should now be so highly ra-
ted must be conceived of from some other cause than
the parsimony of nature. Whatever it be of a se-
condary nature, it is primarily from the Lord. It
is a twig in that rod which is made to scourge,
though we are scourged less than our iniquities de-
serve. May repentance prevent the blow from be-
ing repeated with greater force; and may it not
only be repentance productive of reform, but may
it be repentance unto life. I can only add my
352
MEMOIRS OF C. WINter.
own and Mrs. W's kind salutations to dear
Mrs. L, and that
"I am, &c.
t
'
"Painswick, Oct. 26, 1800.”
米糖
​To the same.
"MY VERY DEAR SIR,
"I AM generally unfortunate in not acknow-
ledging your obliging communications so punc-
tually as I ought, and on this account stand re-
provable, though your kindness withholds the re-
proof. I have had no disinclination to embrace
your invitation to Wem; on the contrary my
heart tends towards you, but I have been prevent-
ed hitherto, and till now have not been able to
fix the time of my journey. A raging malignant
fever has visited our neighbourhood, and seized
numbers of the dear people with whom I stand
connected. It has held long, and still continues,
and by the visits my pastoral office obliges me to
nake, I am in deaths oft. With others, a most
valuable woman has claimed my attention, a suf-
ferer of an uncommon description for fifteen years,
who, about six weeks since, evidently entered
upon her last stage, and I was desirous to conti-
nue my feeble services to her till she got beyond
my reach. That became the case last Saturday
morning. On Lord's day evening I preach her
funeral sermon. The following Sabbath is our
ordinance day, and on the Monday, with divine.
permission, I shall advance to Gloucester in my
way to Wem, making Kidderminster of necessity,
and Birmingham by choice, in my road. What
would I bring with me if I could of the treasures
7
Į
PART III.]
353
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
ཏཱངྒཏྠ རིདྡྷེསཱ, ཙ དེ, 'ས
•
I
of wisdom and knowledge, instead of which,
shall bring a heavy dull empty mind, and a body
that is far from being friendly to its improve-
ment. I shall come with great expectation of be-
ing edified and comforted by my dear friends,
dear Mr. and Mrs. Le, and the circle connect-
ed with them. And though it has not been in
my power to embrace their invitation while the
country scenes are most engaging what may fail
without, by the advance of the autumn and the
early closing of the days, will be amply compen-
sated by their society within doors, the retirement
of the chamber, and the silent instructors with
which they abound. I pray that what I may
bring into the pulpit may be clothed with divine
energy, that the creature's deficiency may be sup-
plied with the fulness of God, and that divine pow-
er may be made manifest in his weakness.
it a great indulgence that I have been at liberty
this fine spring and summer, though I cannot
walk much or far at a time, and by the exertion
I am obliged to make, I am sensible of much fa-
tigue. The use of the pen has the like effect;
but I must act under the influence of self-denial,
that I may discharge in the best manner I can,
the duties I owe God and my connexions. I
would rather have our dear friend
his lash, because I dearly love him, and if I could,
would preserve him from being lashed; but he
sometimes exposes himself to the whip by the
liberty he takes, a return of which he cannot well
bear. How desirable is an admission into the ge-
neral assembly and church of the first born, con-
sisting of the spirits of the just made perfect,
I see
-'s love than
མ
2 H 2
354
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
when in consequence of their perfection, their
views are exactly right. Could we but live here
in the exercise of Christian charity and forbear-
ance, we might differ without being different as
to what is essential to Christianity. Unformity
is not necessary to union, except we consider it
in reference to Christ. In sentiment and external
order it is impossible. In our land, where the di-
visions of profession are so various, a fine oppor
tunity is afforded for the exercise of charity. But
it is hard to attain that grace; whereas depravity,
as it appears in our dissentions, is common to
our nature, and breaks forth upon the smallest
occasion offered. Blessed be God for the spirit
prevailing in you, my dear sir. May the mind
that was in Christ Jesus be in you more and more,
till you are as completely as possible changed in-
to his image. Please to present my kindest salu-
tations to dear Mr. L-, Mr. E
E- and all who
have any recollection of
,
"Yours, &c.
"Painswick, Aug. 27, 1801."
To the same.
"We have slipped into a new year, I had
almost said, imperceptibly, while my most dear
friend's favour of the 24th of November remains
unacknowledged, though not unnoticed. Shame
upon me! I feel it as I write; but indulged by
the liberty you give, I hope these lines, though
100 long delayed, will be acceptable. Strange to
tell! When your letter with the copy of Mr.
W-
-'s, and the translation of the soliloquy of
1
י
PART III.]
355
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
from whence I did
of the last month.
and providential.
Musculus came to Painswick, I was in London,
not return till the beginning
The call thither was sudden
It respected the business of
the good little woman which I mentioned to you
when at Wem. The critical moment was the mo-
ment of divine interposition; and by the benevo-
lence of a neighbour, and the vigorous exertion
of Mr. P—t, the decent subsistence of about
fourscore pounds per annum is rescued from Chan-
cery. This occurrence detained me four weeks
in the metropolis, where I preached in different
congregations, among which the Tabernacle and
Surrey chapel are to be mentioned.
I had as
much pleasure as I usually have in preaching;
I have not wings to soar high. I had great pleasure
in hearing several excellent ministers, within and
without the establishment, and am delighted by
the evident proof that a great spirit of hearing
prevails. It is supposed by some that the spirit
of religion is not so apparent as formerly. I
would hope this is a mistake.
There may be
leaves without fruit, but there
without leaves; and..I think the inference to be
drawn from a number of hearers is natural, that
some good is doing, though it may not be in pro-
portion to appearance. The circle I moved in,
gave me pleasure. I found the friends who form-
ed it as I could wish. Mr. Pt is not divert-
ed from the Gospel by the study of the civil
law, but like my dear Zenas, finds his delight
in the law of the Lord, and has his soul absorb-
ed in the gospel of Christ, though he has not
stepped into a pulpit to proclaim it. How great a
cannot be fruit
プ
​น
356
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
debtor am I to you! I do not forget that I am very
much dear Mrs. L's debtor also. I revolve in
my mind the late visit, and the comfort it was at-
tended with. Not a day, I believe, passes without
the thought of you and yours. I hope your late dis-
appointment has left no unpleasant effect upon Mrs.
L-, but that her constitution gets confirmed.
May many years be appointed for your existence
together, and your mutual happiness; and though
an addition in course be not given to your offspring,
may the dear little creatures you have, flourish to
a long maturity, and reward the parental cares by
a return of affection! Did you go to Ireland? Or
did the sudden introduction of peace prevent your
design from taking effect? I hope it will prove a
permanent peace, and that we shall have no damp
brought upon our joy. We have a more important
peace in which we are so interested, that were it
not made by the blood of the Cross, we must have
been eternally miserable: but being made sure
and ratified, our eternal happiness follows of conse
quence. The vicissitudes which occur among in-
dividuals and nations, though they may affect us
as men, cannot hurt us eventually. Yet a little
while and we shall be carried above all that is
earthly; and while on earth, amidst all the con-
vulsions common to this world, we shall be pre-
served from evil, or be supported under whatever
degree of it the Lord may see fit to befall us. Mrs.
W joins in affectionate wishes, that blessings
in an abundance may be your portion this year. I
feel a desire to express more than I am able. I
cannot tell you how much.
"Painswick, Jan. 9, 1802."
"I am, &c.
:
PART III.]
357
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
To Mr. P—— e.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
"YOUR claim upon my promise is a very just
one. I am not mortified that you have it to pre-
sent me with, but pleased that you hold me worth
your notice. Never think hard of me because I
am not exact in writing, since I am ready to prove
my warm attachment when I can devote the hour
to you. I observe your partiality for retirement,
and am thankful for the little, and it is but little I
have of it. Though the situation I inhabit is fa-
vourable to it, I cannot always use it to advantage.
The duties of the pulpit require much more and
closer meditation than I can indulge; and, owing
to the little services I am called to attend to, on
the behalf of one and another, a great deal of
time is employed more like a man in business, than
like a student in divinity, or as a person who would
indulge literary pursuits. It is a mercy to be in
God's way, and though it be not pleasant to have
our inclinations thwarted, in the end it will turn
out better to us than living to ourselves. There
is literary lust, as well as the lust of the flesh;
and as unhallowed passion and pride usually ac-
company each other; so vanity and letters are too
closely connected, and the man of general learn-
ing to frequently forgets, that if he had not been
exempted from manual labour, and had diligently
applied the mind to his favourable object, he
would have gaped with wonder at that, which, by
the display of; he makes others gape. You are evi-
den ly called to be the man of business, but whe-
ther it be the business of the care-worn metropolis,
or that which may be negociated among the sweet
358
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
;
Think
scenes of Stroud water, is impossible for me to
judge. It is the mercy of thousands, and of your-
self in the number, that communion with God is
not incompatible with business. Let not the latter
be carried to the unnecessary extreme, and the for-
mer. will comport with it. The world is the great
stage upon which, not the drama, but the reality
of life is exhibited; each man is a character, and
has his part once to perform, and having performed
it, he makes his exit, to be seen no more.
of this, my dear friend, and perform your part wel.
Neither you, not I, have had our part to choose,
it is wisely allotted to us, and if we look to him
who has appointed us to stand in our lot, his grace
will be sufficient for ús. Called to advance a little
before you, most probably I shall withdraw a little
sooner. You are on your advance, and will have
your removal; attend to the heavenly Prompter,
and you will make no material mistake, no, not in
the education of your children. Why are you so
anxious upon that head? According to the sphere
in which a child is designed to move, should be the
limit or extent of his education. Let common and
essential parts be learnt well, and leave all the
rest. Too highly finished an education to a child
who has his bread to labour for, is as prejudicial
as a neglected education. You cannot crowd into
the years of fourteen, the accomplishments which
require application till twenty. Unless you in-
tend that your daughters shall be upon an
equality with the ladies of the first description,
and your sons shall be prepared for a profession, I
hope you will be wiser than many parents, who
feed vanity and unfit for usefulness, and thereby
PART III.]
359
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
entail misery and distress upon posterity. Have
a special care of their morals, and inculcate the
principles and duties of religion with the greatest
exactness, and you will lay a good foundation. I
wish you had signified whether you succeed, in
your new department, as to know it will give me
pleasure. But the times are bad, and I can hardly
indulge hope for many of my friends. The mys-
terious wheel of Providence is going round, and it
will fix politics in their proper posture by and by.
Though present appearances are unfavourable, they
are in their proper order to effect, and to bring to
pass, according as the God of the whole earth has
purposed and promised. I intend, if I live till Fast-
day, to engage the attention of my people, to the
second and third verses of the forty-sixth Psalm.
Trouble and perplexity will cease in proportion as
we are disposed to be like minded with the Psalmist.
I am endeavouring to accommodate circumstances
to providences, and through mercy,we are indulged
with much peace and tranquillity. When you
come into Gloucestershire, we shall be obliged by
a sight of you. I wish it had been in my power
to have spent more time with you at Hackney, but
so wide is the circle of friends in and about London,
that it wears me out to attempt to pay due res-
pect to them. I shall not be deficient in my re-
membrance of you in my best moments. Give m
the same advantage, and believe me to be, my
dear friend,
"Yours affectionately."
*
To the same.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,
me
"YOUR last favour might be supposed to be a
י
୮
360
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
stimulus to me.
I
Indeed.it is not without its effect,
though I never forgot my obligations; to dis-
charge them presently was not in my power. I
wish, now I sit down to discharge them, I may be
able to pay you large interest. I have an inclina-
tion so to do; if I fail, impute it to my poverty.
I am abundantly obliged by your communication
of the Monthly Magazine, which, for want of time,
has been shamefully neglected, and I am sorry
am obliged to add, so superficially scanned over,
that numberless articles have escaped me.-Every
day brings its particular business, and the week is
so swift in its rotation, that I scarcely get revived
from the fatigue of one Sabbath before another re-
volves upon me, and finds me unprepared for its
public services. I live a life of perpetual languor,
and my eyes hardly ever cease to ache. A reading
society crowds books pretty fast upon me, and I
can hardly expedite the reading of them fast
enough. The Bible demands far more of my at-
tention than I give it, both as a minister, that I
should be a scribe well instructed, and as a Chris-
tian, that I may know the things which are freely
given to me of God. A scanty mind will neither
receive nor retain every thing. That must first
and principally be attended to, that is of the first
importance. My day is far spent ; for want of fall-
ing early in life into proper hands, the hours are
far gone beyond recall, which should have been
devoted to improvement; and there are many
things which it would be pleasing to be acquaint-
ed with, but of which, at my time of life, and in
my situation, I must be content to be ignorant, at
least to be very superficially acquainted with; es-
PART III.]
AIS LIFE CONTINUED.
361
1
3
pecially as I have a young man with me to whose
improvement I must be attentive; and this is an
additional reason why I cannot indulge pursuits
for which I am inclined. It is well to be disposed
to be in the will of God; and knowing we are in
it we ought to be satisfied. Pride makes us dis-
contented with little things, and the universal
prevalence of pride is the ruin of the whole world.
I hope, my dear sir, that by living under the
blessing of God, and the influence of his Holy
Spirit, you have food for contentment to feed upon,
and that meeting with a daily sufficiency for your-
self and family, you feel yourself rich. The pre-
sent are spending, not enriching times. The cur-
rent where riches flow is partial. It is directed to
here and there a great man, very seldom a good
man. Any man had better be without riches, un-
less he conceives of them as coming from God, and
that he is accountable for the use and improve-
ment of them. When they are coined by op-
pression and fraud, and are stained with blood,
they will turn to a witness against their possessors in
his sight who judgeth righteously, and who will
render to every man according to his works. How
many are there at this time who are basking in
their wealth, but who are nigh unto cursing, whose
end is to be burned! A worse evil than poverty
will come upon them as an armed man, and they
shall not be able to escape. The way to avoid
the suare is to use the Gospel properly, to be de-
cided by its declarations, to be guided by its pre-
cepts, to believe its promises, and to be so in-
tensely set upon its heavenly objects, as to be de-
tached from earth. A very valuable character,
j
!
1
1
}
21
362
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
of
Mr.
a sweet singer in that depart-
ment of God's Israel, who had much to do with
life, was on Sabbath day afternoon called from it.
He was successful in his endeavours, and has lived
just long enough to rear the last of his children.
I fear their not partaking of the father's grace,
will prevent the property gained by industry, from
spending well. This is the principal piece of in-
telligence I have to communicate, unless I add to
it the happy death of Mr. F of Frampton, of
which you shall have a particular account through
the press. I hope these will find you, Mrs. P————,
Mrs. B, and the dear children, well. My best
wishes ever attend you, and my prayers often ac-:
company them. Mrs. W- unites. Here we
are in our little cottage, conforming to the times,
and waiting for whatever events our good Lord
has appointed for us.
"Painswick, April 3, 1799,"
To the same.
"MY DEAR SIR,
"I am, &c.
"STILL I may appear to be deficient in the per-
formance of my promise; but I still have an ex-
cuse to plead. My heart is better disposed to-
wards you, than intentionally to withhold the only
gratification it is in my power to afford you. The
lapse of almost three months, since I left London,
makes the account of my journey home unsuitable;
it was a journey of some difficulty, but of more
mercy. Within a few roods of the Golden Hart,
at Stroud, the coach was overset, but 1, the only in-
side passenger, escaped unhurt. I believe my
PART III.] · HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
363
grasping the loop on the upper side, and poising
my head with as much caution as possible, pre-
vented a mischievous blow. In all danger, human
foresight and caution is vain, but as we are provi-
dentially directed to them, with design to our pro-
tection. Our dangers are many more than we are
aware of, and our obligation to the Lord for our
salvation, greater than we can possibly conceive.
This being the case, resignation of ourselves to
God, confidence in him, and praise rendered to
him, should be three principal duties, in the dis-
charge of which we should daily live, and while
we thus live, we shall not be inattentive to what-
ever else respects the glory of God, nor fail to ex-
ert ourselves for his glory. An attention to this
essential duty of christianity, does not require that
we should always be in the act of divine worship.
This is impossible. We must wait till we arrive
at glory, before we can be thus incessantly employ-
ed. Yet are we not to be inattentive to this de-
votional service while here. We shall find it to
our advantage to redeem as much of our time as
we can retrieve from the business of life, for this
sacred service; and to engage in it, not as an amuse-
ment, but as an exercise of a pious nature, by which
our communion with God is to be supported.
While we have a spark of zeal for God, we should
lament the decay of custom, which among the peo-
ple of our connexion, promotes frequent week-day
assemblies, as well as those which are collected on
the Sabbath. But is there not reason to suspect
that we preserve them rather as means of amuse-
ment, than as being concerned in the use of them,
to keep up holy intercourse with God? They
364
C. WINTER.
MEMOIRS or c
}
F
OF cannot be detached from private devotion, without
losing their efficacy. The recess of the closet, pre-
pares for public ordinances, as the advantages of
public ordinances are secured and made effica-
cious, by the exercises of that retirement. But as
the tradesman must of necessity engage much of
his time to the business of the counting-house,
what is he to do? Take God with him-regard
equity in his negociations-guard against levity,
even where he cannot with propriety introduce re-
ligion. Where it would be impertinent to make
religion the subject of discourse, a man may be re-
ligious. Sanctity of heart will produce sanctity
of deportment, which will act against levity and
sinful compliance, without disgusting those who
are of a contrary part. Ejaculation is a mental act,
in the habitual use of which, communion with God
may be maintained in the crowd, as well as in
the closet, and we can pray without letting any
body know we are at prayer. While settling an
account, or posting the books, a space may be found
to relieve the mind by the indulgence of a spiri-
tual thought, that may be of great use to prevent
it from being engrossed by earth; and though the
mind being constantly upon the stretch, may feel
its burden, it will be prevented by a momentary
retreat to spiritual objects, from sinking under it.
They that wait upon the Lord for the smallest
time shall renew their strength. This, my dear
friend has learned by experience, and as your
knowledge increases, you will become daily con-
firmed in grace. Your helps are more than your
hindrances, many as they may be, and your Helper
is always at hand. To him I commend you while
PART III.]
365
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
I write, as well as at other times, and pray he may
endue you with all that fortitude your difficulties
and duties may require, and that you may stand
every shock with courage, and submit to every dis-
appointment with a persuasion that nothing comes
by chance.-Times are yet seriously bad, notwith-
standing peace is restored. Whether it be perma-
nent or not, must be left for futurity to determine.
If I were to think for myself only, I should be very
indifferent about political events, as I am descend-
ing into the vale of life, and a few steps further may
carry me beyond all earthly concerns. I feel much
which forbids my expectation of becoming a very
old man, though appearance misguides the judg
ment of my friends, who hardly suppose I am
the invalid I am in reality. It is at the expense
of much spirits I prosecute my ministry, and
discharge the duties which attach to it. I have
a little youth who attends me every day, the
youngest son of the widow H-, for whose im-
provement I use the Elegant Extracts, and there I
see such ample instruction for youth, that I wish
to recommend it to your dear little folks.
could produce nothing like it. Accompanied
with your lectures, nothing can be more suitable.
I think John is at a good school, do not remove
him. Let him at his present school acquire all he
can, and live under your eye, and in your house.
The years will insensibly glide forward when he
will become your companion, with whom, having
secured his affection by the tenderness of your con-
duct, you may pass your evenings with pleasure,
though every friend should be at a distance.
"I am, &c.
"Painswick, March 3, 1802."
I
212
366
MEMOIRS OF C. WINTER.
To Mr. P.
"MY DEAR SIR,
"SHOULD I never more see your face in the
flesh, I shall not be unmindful of you, Mrs. P,
and your dear little family. The comforts I have
received among you, and the favours imparted by
you in my latter visits to the metropolis, are not
to be erased from my memory. Mrs. P said
Write to us,' and I did write, and I write again,
to show you, that not merely to disengage myself
from a promise, but to convince you I bear you up.
on my heart. I wrote my other letter, and follow
it with a second. I was glad to have my in
quiries after you satisfactorily answered by Mrs.
W. I hope you have the indulgences of Pro-
vidence, and an increase of divine grace continued
to you. Though the former are very desirable,
and set the mind at liberty from anxiety, they will
not do, being alone. They may for the natural
man, who, as he pants after, can be satisfied with
the dust of the earth; but the Christian has soul-
wants, which are of a spiritual nature, and can only
be satisfied by spiritual provision. It is furnished in
a rich abundance, and every hungry soul shall be
filled with it. The Epicure cannot more highly be
delighted with his dainty meats, than the be-
liever is with the provisions of the house of God,
even of his holy temple. The neighbourhood of
Hackney I find continues to be enriched with it,
and London overflows with it.
Our country is
not barren; it has its sufficiency. Our Lord always
suits his supplies to his family. Wherever he has
an infant child, there shall be breasts which he
PART III.]
367
HIS LIFE CONTINUED,
shall suck and be satisfied. Yesterday I was sup
plying the congregation of Chalford, while the
minister of that place was in my pulpit, and I
found it good to be there. We find a little ex-
change good for the body and the mind. The
ride of six or seven miles is refreshing, and I am
very sensible of it. I cannot do as I have done.
I am older in constitution than in years, yet have I
passed sixty-four. I could be glad to be excused
a third service on a Sabbath day, but I, for the
most part, am thus frequently engaged without
abridging either, and in addition to this have week
day services. I sometimes suspect my limbs will
fail me. I have as much difficulty in standing as
in preaching, and am in constant pain, which, bless-
ed be God, is not excruciating. He only knows to
what extent my day is to be continued, who hath
lengthened it thus far. The evening of it has ar-
rived, and I am an expectant of rest-that rest
which remaineth for the people of God. I adore
the grace which has made me of their number,
that I have partaken with them on earth, and am
encouraged to believe I shall have my portion
with them for ever. There, in that land of up-
rightness, where the Lord will gather all his people
in one glorious body, the din of arms will no
longer offend our ears, nor the cruelty and per-
plexity of war vex and distress our minds. The
events of the present day are very serious, and they
portend future serious events. To what lengths
our inveterate and victorious enemy may be suffer-
ed to proceed is hard to say. He is our scourge, may
he not be our destruction. He is the rod of God's
anger, and probably may be burned, when the cor-
368
MEMOIRS OF C. WINter.
rection, of which he is instrumental, shall have an-
swered its end. May our prayers counteract his ef-
forts, and salvation be appointed for walls and bul-
warks about us. The spread of the Gospel is a
blessed omen in our favour. I wish, in propor-
tion to its prosperity in general, I could report
great things at Painswick. Something however
is doing. Our Sunday's school is kept in exist
ence; for this and for several poor people, I could
be glad of a few Bibles, if among your connexions
you could procure me such a gift, with Watts'
Psalms and. Hymns. With kind and respectful
salutations to Mrs. P and to Miss S-
S—, if
with you, and with my best wishes and prayers for
your whole family,
"I am, &c.
"Painswick, Nov. 24, 1806.”
To Mr. J▬▬▬▬▬s E▬▬▬▬l.
"I HAVE longed for an opportunity to sit down,
and with suitable composure of mind, to acknow-
ledge the dateless letter of my very dear friend.
I am ashamed to be so long your debtor, without
giving such a discharge, as you are kind to ac
cept. But the mind and the body have been
alike infirm, and though forced into activity,
they have not bent to letter-writing, but when
upon subjects unavoidable. I little expected to
have been informed of the removal of your valua
ble and dear mother. The last sight I had of her,
would lead me to suppose she had many years
before her, in which to be blessed by, and be a
PART III.]
369:
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
+
·
blessing to her dear J- -s. But in the midst
of life we are in death,' and while we seem to
hold our friends firm, they slip from us, drawn by
Him whose attractive power, will have all unto
himself, sooner or later, whom he hath secured
for himself by the purchase of his precious blood..
In that number was the excellent woman who
gave you birth, and lived to see you so far on
the journey of life, and to witness the gracious
providence of God smiling upon you. I well re-
collect the placid facetiousness that mutually pass-
ed between you when last at Bath, and the
thoughts which it occasioned in my mind. I
trust resignation and submission have enabled you
to yield the Saviour his claim, and that the
thought of your mother being glorified, recon
ciles you to her removal. I thank you, my dear-
est sir, for the account of her departure. I am
yet behind, I hope ready to go; O that I may not
have to say,' Spare me a little,' when my Master's
summons will require me to go hence. I carry
about me some symptoms that the tabernacle is
in a state of decay. I did not know what the
close of the fall might produce. Through mercy, I
am a little braced, but not strong. Mrs. W-
J
gets very feeble, and the remains of sight are very
inconsiderable. She has expressed a desire to be
removed, if her life be spared till next winter,
within a step or two of the house of God, and I
am watching for an opportunity by the opening
of Providence to indulge her. She says it will be
as necessary for myself as for her. It will be at-
tended with a little inconvenience, but to this I
submit. I can say what I never could before,
370
MÈMOIRS OF C. winter.
+
that I have settled my last year's accounts, in
which my poor have had a portion, and have
twenty pounds in the house. Whether when the
lawyer's bill is settled, a trifle more may come
to me, I cannot say. The property has sunk con.
siderably, but even with the demands of Govern-
ment, prudently used, enough remains. Your be-
nevolence being consecrated to the use of the
poor, enables me to be a little more diffuse, and a
very particular case engaging my attention, ren-
ders it acceptable. May the liberal things you.
have devised, add 'permanency to your standing
on the foundation of providence, and may the
dear offspring arising from you inherit a large
blessing, with which God has often seen fit to ho
nour the parent's liberality. We are much re-
freshed and assisted in the journey of life, by the
blessings of Providence. They are not our por-
tion but only a part of it, and where it is withheld,
it requires grace to submit to all the wants and
cravings of nature without murmuring and repin-
ing. God can and does give grace, suited to
that disconsolate station, and in it the crumb is
precious, which in affluence is only considered pro-
per for the dogs. The Lord sometimes raises the
poor from the dust, and if their advancement
be sanctified, they carry the estimate of the
crumb, according to what their former wants rat-
ed it at, and are careful of it, that it be not wast-
ed; and with addition, make it subservient to
the comfort of the needy. Though extreme
need has not been a part of your experience, you
have learned how to use properly, and liberally
to dispose of property. May you always have a
PART III.]
HIS LIFE CONTINUED.
371
rich store from whence to do good and to com-
municate.' My kind regards accompany these to
Mrs. E- to Mr. W and Miss E
2
to
My
She is
to the whole number, if they recollect me.
enfeebled and blind wife unites with me.
greatly altered, but has stamina. How long we
are to be together, or which is to precede the
other into the state of blessedness, is only known
to him who has his plan and purpose before him,
to whom it becomes us to yield submission. Te
him I commend you, and am increasingly,
"My very dear sir,
“Painswick, Jan. 22, 1807.”
"Yours, &c.
THE END.

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 06437 0839
A 554768

€