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YALE
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

THE CHRISTIAN LEADERS OF
THE LAST CENTURY.

THE

CHRISTIAN LEADERS

^hc !/ast denture;

ENGLAND A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

By the-_^
REV. 7? C "RY LE, B.A.,
Christ Church, Oxford',
AUTHOR OF "EXPOSITORY THOUGHTS," &c.

Enquire, I pray thee, ofthe former a.ge, and prepare thyself to the search of
their fathers."— JOB vni. 8.

LONDON:
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW;
EDINBURGH ; AND NEW YORK.
1869.

|P r jc fare.

1JHE volume now in the reader's hands requires a few
prefatory sentences of explanation. I should be
sorry if there was any mistake as to its nature and
intention. It consists of a series of biographical papers, contributed to
a well-known and most valuable monthly periodical during the
years 1866 and 1867.* My object in drawing up these papers
was to bring before the public in a comprehensive form the
lives, characters, and work of the leading ministers by whose
agency God was pleased to revive Christianity in England a
hundred years ago. I had long felt that these great men were
not sufficiently known, and their merit in consequence not suffi
ciently recognized. I thought that the Church and the world
ought to know something more than they seem to know about
such men as Whitefield, Wesley, Romaine, Rowlands, Grim-
shaw, Berridge, Venn, Toplady, Hervey, Walker, and Fletcher.
For twenty years I waited anxiously for some worthy account
of these mighty spiritual heroes. At last I became weary of
waiting, and resolved to take the pen in my own hand, and do
what I could in the pages of a periodical. These papers, in
compliance with the wishes of friends, are now brought together
in a portable form.
How far my attempt has been successful, I must now leave
* The Family Treasury.

iv PREFACE,
the public to judge. To literary merits the volume can lay no
claim. Its chapters were written from month to month in the
midst of many ministerial engagements, under a pressure which
none can understand but those who write for periodicals. To
expect such a volume to be a model of finished composition
would be absurd. I only lay claim to a tolerable degree of
accuracy about historical facts. I have been careful to make
no statement for which I could not find some authority.
The reader will soon discover that I am an enthusiastic
admirer of the men whose pictures I have sketched in this
volume. I confess it honestly. I am a thorough enthusiast
about them. I believe firmly that, excepting Luther and his
Continental contemporaries and our own martyred Reformers,
the world has seen no such men since the days of the apostles.
I believe there have been none who have preached so much
clear scriptural truth, none who have lived such lives, none
who have shown such courage in Christ's service, none who
have suffered so much for the truth, none who have done so
much good. If any one can name better men, he knows more
than I do.
I now send forth this volume with an earnest prayer that God
may pardon all its defects, use it for his own glory, and raise
up in his Church men like those who are here described. Surely,
when we look at the state of England, we may well say, " Where
is the Lord God of Whitefield and of Rowlands, of Grimshaw
and of Venn 1 O Lord, revive thy work ! " J. C. RYLE.
Stradbroke Vicarage, August io, 1868.
P.S. — I think it right to say that the chief substance of the
biography of " Whitefield," in this volume, was originally de
livered as a lecture in London in 1852. It now appears
remoulded and enlarged. The other ten biographies were pre
pared expressly for the Family Treasury.

CONTENTS.

I.
• ftfje JUltgfoua anil fttoral ©onbition of ©nglanti
AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Importanoe of the History ofthe Eighteenth Century — Political and Financial Position
of England — Low State of Religion both in Churches and Chapels — Testimonies
on the subject — Defects of Bishops and Clergy — Poverty of the Printed Theology
— Wretched Condition of the Country as to Education, Morals, and Popular Litera
ture — The " Good Old Times " a mere Myth  1 1

II.
2Tt)e Stgrtug 6p iuljiclj ©fjriflticwxftg teas ftfbflitb in ©nglanb
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Improvement of England since middle of Eighteenth Century an undeniable Fact —
Agents in effecting the Change a few isolated and humble Clergymen — Preaching
the chief Instrument they employed — The Manner of their Preaching — The Sub
stance of their Preaching  21

III.
George OTijitcfieib ana Ijta JWtmatrg.
v CHAPTER I.
Whitefield's Birth-place and Parentage— Educated at Gloucester Grammar School-
Enters Pembroke College, Oxford— Season of Spiritual Conflict— Books which
were made useful to him — Ordained by Bishop Benson — First Sermon — Preaches
in London — Curate of Dummer, Hants — Goes to America— Returns in a year-
Preaches in the open air — Is excluded from most London Pulpits — Extent ofhis
Labours for thirty-one years — Dies at Newbury Port, America, in 1770— Interest
ing circumstances of his Death  3°

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER II. Page
Estimate of Good that Whitefield did — Testimonies to his direct Usefulness — Indirect
Good that he did — Peculiar character ofhis Preaching — Witnesses to his real power
as a Preacher — Analysis of his seventy-five published Sermons — Simplicity, Direct
ness, Power of Description, Earnestness, Pathos, Action, Voice, and Fluency, his
leading Excellences — Inner Life, Humility, Love to Christ, Laboriousness, Self-
denial, Disinterestedness, Cheerfulness, Catholicity — Specimen ofhis Preaching.. 44

IV.
Soljn Wit&tiv anb ijts pttmstrp.
CHAPTER 1.
John Wesley — Reason why better known than many of his Contemporaries — Birth
place — Sketch of his Father and Mother — Educated at Charter-House and Oxford
—Early Religious History— Ordained, 1725 — Lives at Oxford eight Years — Joins
the Methodist Club — Sails for Georgia, 1736 — Returns to England, 1738 — Com
mences Field-preaching — Continues Working for fifty-three Years — Dies in 1791 —
Singleness of Eye, Diligence, and Versatility of Mind — Arminianism  64
CHAPTER II.
Wesley's Preaching — Preface to Published Volume of Sermons — Extracts from Ser
mons Preached before the University of Oxford — Rules for the Guidance of his
Helpers — Advice to his Preachers — Letter to the Bishop of Lincoln — General
Estimate of Wesley's Merits  88

V.
StMU'am ffittmsijato of fkatoortf), anb ijts i&tmtstvs.
CHAPTER 1. {
Barn at Brindle, 170S— Educated at Christ's College, Cambridge — Ordained, 1731 —
Curate of Rochdale and Todmorden— Death of his Wife — Minister of„Ha,worth,
1742 — Description of Haworth— Style of his Ministry — His Manner of Life, Dili
gence, Charity, Love of Peace, Humility — His Ministerial Success  106
CHAPTER IL
Extra-Parochial Labour in Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire— The Nature of this
Labour Explained and Defended— Persecution at Colne — The Archbishop of York's
Visit to Haworth— His Love to the Articles and Homilies— His Last Illness, Dying
Sayings, Death, and Funeral  I20
CHAPTER III.
Literary Remains— Covenant and Summary of Belief— Letter to Christians in London
—Anecdotes and Traditions— Influence in his Parish— Haworth Races Stopped—
Mode of Discovering False Professors— Peculiarities in his Conduct of Divine
Service — Testimony of Romaine, Veun, and Newton  133

CONTENTS. Vii
VI.
eiSttUtam Ktomafiw anb Ijis JJUntatrp.
CHAPTER I. Page
Born at Hartlepool in 1714— Educated at Houghton-le-Spring and Christ Church,
Oxford — Character for Learning at Oxford — Ordained, 1736 — Curate of Lew-
trenchard and Banstead — Lectures at St. Botolph's 1748, and St. Dunstan's
1749 — Troubles at St. Dunstan's — Morning Preacher at St. George's, Hanover
Square, 1750 — Loses his Preachership, 1755— Gresham Professor of Astronomy-
Morning Preacher at St. Olave, Southwark, and St. Bartholomew the Great —
Preaches before the University of Oxford — Gives great Offence  1 49
CHAPTER II.
Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, 1764 — Difficulties in the way of his Appointment —
Letter to Lady Huntingdon — Usefulness at Blackfriars — Peculiarities of Address
and Temperament — Last Illness and Dying Saying — Death, 1795 — Public Funeral
—Literary Remains  163

VII.
©antel Iftotolanba anb $te plmistrp.
v CHAPTER I.
Born in Wales, 1713 — Educated at Hereford, and never at a University — Ordained,
1733 — Curate of Llangeitho — An Altered Man in 1738 — Extraordinary Effect of his
Preaching — Extra-parochial and Out-door Preaching — License Withdrawn by the
Bishop in 1763 — Continues to Preach in a Chapel at Llangeitho — Died 1790 —
Account of his Portrait  180
CHAPTER II.
Analysis of his Preaching — Much of Christ — Richness of Thought — Felicity of Lan
guage — Large Measure of Practical and Experimental Teaching — Manner, De
livery, and Voice — Christmas Evans' Description of his Preaching — Testimony of
Mr. Jones of Creaton — Specimens of Rowlands' Sermons — Inner Life and Private
Character — Humility, Prayerfulness, Diligence, Self-Denial, Courage, Fervour —
Rowland Hill's Anecdote  195

VIII.
$o!)tt JSmflige anb fjfa Jftttnfstrn.
CHAPTER I.
Corn at Kingston, Notts, 1716 — Educated at Nottingham— Fails to learn the Business
of a Grazier — Goes to Clare Hall, Cambridge, 1734— Elected Fellow of Clare,
1742 — Curate of Stapleford, 1749 — Vicar of Everton, 1755 — Begins to Preach the
Full Gospel, 1757 — Open-air Preaching — Itinerant and Extra-parochial Ministra
tions — Singular Physical Effect on some Hearers — Opposition and Persecution —
Dies, 1793 — His Epitaph  2/6

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER II. Pago
His Quaintness and Eccentricity — No Quaintness in his Outlines of Sermons — His
Style of Preaching Defended — Specimen of his Quaint Thoughts — His Humility,
Love of Christ, Kindness, Self-Denial, Shrewdness, Courage — His Sympathizing
Letters  235

IX.
=S?fnTg Ferm antr ijts JUltiu'strp.
CHAPTER I.
Eorn at Barnes, Surrey, 1724 — His Ancestors — Curious Anecdotes of his Boyhood
and Youth — Enters St. John's, Cambridge, 1742 — Fellow of Queen's, 1749 — Curate
of West Horsley, 1750 — Curate of Clapham, 1754 — Change in his Religious Views
— Becomes acquainted with Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon — Married, 1757 —
Vicar of Huddersfield, 1759  254
CHATTER II.
Mode of Working at Huddersfield — Effect ofhis Ministry — Fruits found in 1824 — Extra-
parochial Labours — Friendly Relation with Whitefield — Health Fails — Wife Dies
— Leaves Huddersfield for Yelling, 1771 — Description of Yelling — Second Marriage
¦ — Description of Life at Yelling — Dies, 1797  268
CHAPTER III.
H is Preaching Analyzed — His Literary Remains Examined — Extraordinary Power as a
Letter-writer — Soundness of Judgment about Doctrine — Wisdom and Good Sense
about Duties — Prudent Management of his Children — Unworldliness and Cheer
fulness—Catholicity ahd Kindliness of Spirit — Testimony of Cowper, Simeon, and
Sir James Stephen  285

X.
SSBtalittr of ffiruro, ano f)ia fJlintstrg.
Born at Exeter, 1714— Educated at Exeter College, Oxford— Ordained, 1737— Curate of
Truro, 1746— At First very ignorant ofthe Gospel— Mr. Conon's Influence— Effect
of his Preaching— Opposition— Self-denial and Holy Life— Remarkable Effect on
Soldiers— Private Unity Meetings— Died, 1761— Literary Remains— Preaching. . . 306

Janws Sji-vifg of afflrston jFaiulI, anti Ijfe JKKntstrs.
Born near Northampton, 1713— Educated at Lincoln College, Oxford— Intimacy with
John Wesley— Ordained, 1736— Curate of Dummer, 1738; of Bidefbrd, 1740; and
of Weston Favell, 1743— Early Religious History— Correspondence with White-
field— Studious Habit at Weston Favell— Literary Remains Analyzed— Corre
spondence— Humour— Private Life— Charity— Self-denial— Died, 1758— Testi
mony of Romaine, Venn, Cowper, Cecil, Bickersteth, and Daniel Wilson  328

CONTENTS.

XII. Page
Soplabg anb fj(s ftlmtstrp.
Corn at Farnham, 1740 — Ordained, 1762 — Vicar of Broad Hembury, Devonshire, 1768
— Removes to London, 1775 — Dit:s, 1778 — Conversion, 1756 — His Preaching — His
Writings as a Controversialist — His Hymns  358

XIII.
JFIrtrljrt of f*tatal*2, anb Ijt'a Plinfatra?.
CHAPTER I.
Born in Switzerland, 1729 — Educated at Geneva and Leutzburg — Wishes to be a Sol
dier — Becomes a Tutor in England, 1750 — Private Tutor in Mr. Hill's Family,
1752 — Becomes Acquainted with Methodists — Inward Conflict — Ordained, 1757 — ¦
Vicar of Madeley, 1760 — Correspondence with Charles Wesley and Lady Hunt
ingdon  385
CHAPTER II.
Ministerial Labours at Madeley — Superintendent of Trevecca College, 1768 — Resigns
Trevecca, 1771 — Laid aside by ill health, 1776 — Goes to Clifton, Newington, and
Switzerland — Returns to Madeley, 1781 — Marries— Dies, 1785 — Hii Preaching — ¦
Writing — Private Character — Testimony of Wesley and Venn  405

XIV.
Conclusion  426

ENGLAND A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

CJ« ^Iclirjtcms anb |ftoral Conbitiort of (icnglanb
AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Importance of the History of the Eighteenth Century — Political and Financial Position of
England — Low State of Religion both in Churches and Chapels — Testimonies on the
subject — Defects of Bishops and Clergy — Poverty of the Printed Theology — Wretched
Condition of the Country as to Education, Morals, and popular Literature — The
" Good Old Times" a mere Myth.
IHE subject I propose to handle in this volume is partly
historical and partly biographical. If any reader
expects from the title a fictitious tale, or something
partly drawn from my imagination, I fear he will be disappointed.
Such writing is not in my province, and I have no leisure for it
if it was. Facts, naked facts, and the stern realities of life,
absorb all the time that I can spare for the press.
I trust, however, that with most readers the subject I have
chosen is one that needs no apology. The man who feels no
interest in the history and biography of his own country is
surely a poor patriot and a worse philosopher.
" Patriot " he cannot be called. True patriotism will make
an Englishman care for everything that concerns England. A
true patriot will like to know something about every one who

12 POLITICAL AND FINANCIAL
has left his mark on English character, from the Venerable
Bede down to Hugh Stowell, from Alfred the Great down to
Pounds, the originator of Ragged Schools.
" Philosopher " he certainly is not. What is philosophy but
history teaching by examples 1 To know the steps by which
England has reached her present position is es-sential to a right
understanding both of our national privileges and our national
dangers. To know the men whom God raised up to do his
work in days gone by, will guide us in looking about for
standard-bearers in our own days and days to come.
I venture to think that there is no period of English history
which is so thoroughly instructive to a Christian as the middle
of last century. It is the period of which we are feeling the
influence at this very day. It is the period with which our
grandfathers and great-grandfathers were immediately con
nected. It is a period, not least, from which we may draw
most useful lessons for our own times.
Let me begin by trying to describe the actual condition of
England a hundred years ago. A few simple facts will suffice
to make this plain.
The reader will remember that I am not going to speak of
our political condition. I might easily tell him that, in the days
of Sir Robert Walpole, the Duke of Newcastle, and the elder
Pitt, the position of England was very different from what it is
now. Great statesmen and orators there were among us, no
doubt. But our standing among the nations of the earth was
comparatively poor, weak, and low. Our voice among the
rations of the earth carried far less weight than it has since
obtained. The foundation of our Indian Empire had hardly
been laid. Our Australian possessions were a part of the world
only just discovered, but not colonized. At home there was a
strong party in the country which still longed for the restoration
of the Stuarts. In 1745 the Pretender and a Highland army
marched from Scotland to invade England, and got as far as

POSITION OF ENGLAND. 13
Derby. Corruption, jobbing, and mismanagement in high
places were the rule, and purity the exception. Civil and
rehgious disabilities still abounded. The test and corporation
Acts were still unrepealed. To be a Dissenter was to be
regarded as only one degree better than being seditious and a
rebel. Rotten boroughs flourished. Bribery among all classes
was open, unblushing, and profuse. Such was England politi
cally a hundred years ago.
The reader will remember, furthermore, that I am not going
to speak of our condition in a financial and economical point of
view. Our vast cotton, silk, and linen manufactures had hardly
begun to exist. Our enormous mineral treasures of coal and
iron were scarcely touched. We had no steam-boats, no loco
motive engines, no railways, no gas, no electric telegraph, no
penny post, no scientific farming, no macadamized roads, no
free-trade, no sanitary arrangements, and no police deserving
the name. Let any Englishman imagine, if he can, his country
without any of the things that I have just mentioned, and he
will have some faint idea of the economical and financial con
dition of England a hundred years ago.
But I leave these things to the political economists and his
torians of this world. Interesting as they are, no doubt, they
form no part of the subject that I want to dwell upon. I wish
to treat that subject as a minister of Christ's gospel. It is the
religious and moral condition of England a hundred years ago
to which I shall confine my attention. Here is the point to
which I wish to direct the reader's eye.
The state of this country in a religious and moral point of
view in the middle of last century was so painfully unsatisfac
tory that it is difficult to convey any adequate idea of it. Eng
lish people of the present day who have never been led to
inquire into the subject, can have no conception of the dark
ness that prevailed. From the year 1700 till about the era of
the French Revolution, England seemed barren of all that is

14 LOW STATE OF RELIGION.
really good. How such a state of things can have arisen in a
land of free Bibles and professing Protestantism is almost past
comprehension. Christianity seemed to lie as one dead, inso
much that you might have said " she is dead." Morality, how
ever much exalted in pulpits, was thoroughly trampled under
foot in the streets. There was darkness in high places and
darkness in low places — darkness in the court, the camp, the
Parliament, and the bar — darkness in country, and darkness in
town — darkness among rich and darkness among poor — a
gross, thick, religious and moral darkness — a darkness that
might be felt.
Does any one ask what the churches were doing a hundred
years ago 1 The answer is soon given. The Church of Eng
land existed in those days, with her admirable articles, her
time-honoured liturgy, her parochial system, her Sunday ser
vices, and her ten thousand clergy. The Nonconformist body
existed, with its hardly won liberty and its free pulpit. But
one account unhappily may be given of both parties. They
existed, but they could hardly be said to have lived. They did
nothing ; they were sound asleep. The curse of the Uniformity
TAct seemed to rest on the Church of England. The blight of
ease and freedom from persecution seemed to rest upon the
Dissenters. Natural theology, without a single distinctive doc
trine of Christianity, cold morality, or barren orthodoxy, formed
the staple teaching both in church and chapel. Sermons every
where were little better than miserable moral essays, utterly
devoid of anything likely to awaken, convert, or save souls.
Both parties seemed at last agreed on one point, and that was
¦L to let the devil alone, and to do nothing for hearts and souls.
And as for the weighty truths for which Hooper and Latimer
had gone to the stake, and Baxter and scores of Puritans
had gone to jail, they seemed clean forgotten and laid on the
shelf. When such was the state of things in churches and chapels,

ARCHBISHOP SECKER'S CHARGE. 15
it can surprise no one to learn that the land was deluged with
infidelity and scepticism. The prince of this world made good
use of his opportunity. His agents were active and zealous in
promulgating every kind of strange and blasphemous opinion.
Collins and Tindal denounced Christianity as priestcraft.
Whiston pronounced the miracles of the Bible to be grand
impositions. Woolston declared them to be allegories. Arian
ism and Socinianism were openly taught by Clark and Priestly,
and became fashionable among the intellectual part of the com
munity. Ofthe utter incapacity of the pulpit to stem the pro
gress of all this flood of evil, one single fact will give us some '
idea. The celebrated lawyer, Blackstone, had the curiosity, '-
early in the reign of George III., to go from church to church :
and hear every clergyman of note in London. He says that he
did not hear a single discourse which had more Christianity in
it than the writings of Cicero, and that it would have been im
possible for him to discover, from what he heard, whether the
preacher were a follower of Confucius, of Mahomet, or of Christ !
Evidence about this painful subject is, unhappily, only too
abundant. My difficulty is not so much to discover witnesses,
as to select them. This was the period at which Archbishop
Seeker said, in one of his charges, " In this we cannot be
mistaken, that an open and professed disregard of religion
is become, through a variety of unhappy causes, the distin
guishing character of the age. Such are the dissoluteness and
contempt of principle in the higher part of the world, and the
profligacy, intemperance, and fearlessness of committing crimes
in the lower part, as must, if the torrent of impiety stop not,
become absolutely fatal. Christianity is ridiculed and railed at
with very little reserve ; and the teachers of it without any at
all." This was the period when Bishop Butler, in his preface to
the " Analogy," used the following remarkable words : " It has
come to be taken for granted that Christianity is no longer a
subject of inquiry ; but that it is now at length discovered to be

1 6 DEFECTS OF BISHOPS
fictitious. And accordingly it is treated as if, in the present age,
this were an agreed point among all persons of discernment,
and nothing remained but to set it up as a principal subject for
mirth and ridicule.'- Nor were such complaints as these con
fined to Churchmen. Dr. Watts declares that in his day " there
was a general decay of vital religion in the hearts and lives of
men, and that it was a general matter of mournful observation
among all who lay the cause of God to heart." Dr. Guyse,
another most respectable Nonconformist, says, " The religion
of nature makes up the darling topic of our age ; and the reli
gion of Jesus is valued only for the sake of that, and only so
far as it carries on the light of nature, and is a bare improve
ment of that kind of light. All that is distinctively Christian,
or that is peculiar to Christ, everything concerning him that has
not its apparent foundation in natural light, or that goes beyond
its principles, is waived, and banished and despised." Testi
mony like this might easily be multiplied tenfold. But I spare
the reader. Enough probably has been adduced to prove that
when I speak ofthe moral and religious condition of England
at the beginning of the eighteenth century as painfully unsatis
factory, I do not use the language of exaggeration.
What were the bishops of those days ? Some of them were
undoubtedly men of powerful intellect and learning, and of un
blamable lives. But the best of them, like Seeker, and Butler,
and Gibson, and Lowth, and Horn, seemed unable to do more
than deplore the existence of evils which they saw but knew
not how to remedy. Others, like Lavington and Warburton,
fulminated fierce charges against enthusiasm and fanaticism,
and appeared afraid of England becoming too religious ! The
majority of the bishops, to say the truth, were mere men of the
world. They were unfit for their position. The prevailing
tone of the Episcopal body may be estimated by the fact, that
Archbishop Comwallis gave balls and routs at Lambeth Palace
until the king himself interfered by letter and requested him to
(195)

AND PAROCHIAL CLERGY. 17-
desist* Let me also add, that when the occupants of the
Episcopal bench were troubled by the rapid spread of White-
field's influence, it was gravely suggested in high quarters that
the best way to stop his influence was to make him a bishop.
What were the parochial clergy of those days % The vast
majority of them were sunk in worldliness, and neither knew
nor cared anything about their profession. They neither did
good themselves, nor liked any one else to do it for them. They
hunted, they shot, they farmed, they swore, they drank, they
gambled. They seemed determined to know everything except
Jesus Christ and him crucified. When they assembled it was
generally to toast " Church and King," and to build one another
up in earthly-mindedness, prejudice, ignorance, and formality.
When they retired to their own homes, it was to do as little and
preach as seldom as possible. And when they did preach,
their sermons were so unspeakably and indescribably bad, that
it is comforting to reflect they were generally preached to empty
benches. What sort of theological literature was a hundred years ago
bequeathed to us? The poorest and weakest in the English
language. This is the age to which we owe such divinity as
that of the " Whole Duty of Man," and the sermons of Tillotson

* The king's letter on this occasion is so curious, that I give it in its entirety, as I find
it in that interesting though ill-arranged book, "The Life and Times of Lady Hunting
don." The letter was evidently written in consequence of an interview which Lady
Huntingdon had with the king. A critical reader will remember that the king was pro
bably more familiar with the German than the English language.
" My good Lord Prelate, — I could not delay giving you the notification of the grief
and concern with which my breast was affected at receiving authentic information that
routs have made their way into your palace. At the same time, 1 must signify to you my
sentiments on this subject, which hold these levities and vain dissipations as utterly inex
pedient, if not unlawful, to pass in a residence for many centuries devoted to divine studies,
religious retirement, and the extensive exercise of charity and benevolence ; I add, in a
place where so many of your predecessors have led their lives in such sanctity as has
thrown lustre on the pure religion they professed and adorned. From the dissatisfaction
with which you must perceive I behold these improprieties, not to speak in harsher terms,
and on still more pious principles, I trust you will suppress them immediately ; so that I
may not have occasion to show any further marks of my displeasure, or to interpose in a
different manner. May God take your grace into his almighty protection !— I remain, my
Lord Primate, your gracious friend, G. R.'
(195) 2

1 1 8 EDUCATION, MORALS, AND
and Blair. Inquire at any old bookseller's shop, and you will
find there is no theology so unsaleable as the sermons published
about the middle and latter part of last century.
What sort of education had the lower orders a hundred years
ago ? In the greater part of parishes, and especially in rural
districts, they had no education at all. Nearly all our rural
schools have been built since 1800. So extreme was the ignor
ance, that a Methodist preacher in Somersetshire was charged
before the magistrates with swearing, because in preaching he
quoted the text, "He that belieweth not shall be damned!"
While, not to be behind Somersetshire, Yorkshire furnished a
constable who brought Charles Wesley before the magistrates as
a favourer of the Pretender, because in public prayer he asked
the Lord to "bring back his banished ones!" To cap all, the
vice-chancellor of Oxford actually expelled six students from
the University because " they held Methodistic tenets, and took
on them to pray, read, and expound Scripture in private houses."
To swear extempore, it was remarked by some, brought an
Oxford student into no trouble ; but to pray extempore was an
offence not to be borne !
What were the morals of a hundred years ago? It may suf
fice to say that duelling, adultery, fornication, gambling, swear
ing, Sabbath-breaking and drunkenness were hardly regarded as
vices at all. They were the fashionable practices of people in
the highest ranks of society, and no one was thought the worse
of for indulging in them. The best evidence of this point is
to be found in Hogarth's pictures.
What was the popular literature of a hundred years ago ? I
pass over the fact that Bolingbroke, and Gibbon, and Hume
the historian, were all deeply dyed with scepticism. I speak
of the light reading which was most in vogue. Turn to
the pages of Fielding, Smollett, Swift, and Sterne, and you have
the answer. The cleverness of these writers is undeniable ;
but the indecency of many of their writings is so glaring and

LITERATURE OF THE PERIOD. 19
gross, that few people now-a-days would like to allow their
works to be seen on their drawing-room table.
My picture, I fear, is a very dark and gloomy one. I wish
it were in my power to throw a little more light into it. But
facts are stubborn things, and specially facts about literature.
The best literature of a hundred years ago is to be found in the
moral writings of Addison, Johnson, and Steele. But the
effects of such literature on the general public, it may be feared,
was infinitesimally small. In fact, I believe that Johnson
and the essayists had no more influence on the religion and
morality of the masses than the broom of the renowned Mrs.
Partington had on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
To sum up all, and bring this part of my subject to a conclu
sion, I ask my readers to remember that the good works with
which every one is now familiar did not exist one hundred
years ago. Wilberforce had not yet attacked the slave trade.
Howard had not yet reformed prisons. Raikes had not estab
lished Sunday schools. We had no Bible Societies, no ragged
schools, no city missions, no pastoral aid societies, no missions
to the heathen. The spirit of slumber was over the land. In
a religious and moral point of view, England was sound asleep.
I cannot help remarking, as I draw this chapter to a conclu
sion, that we ought to be more thankful for the times in which
we live. I fear we are far too apt to look at the evils we see
around us, and to forget how much worse things were a hundred
years ago. I have no faith, for my part, and I boldly avow it,
in those "good old times" of which some delight to speak. I
regard them as a mere fable and a myth. I believe that our
own times are the best times that England has ever seen. I do
not say this boastfully. I know we have many things to de
plore ; but I do say that we might be worse. I do say that we
were much worse a hundred years ago. The general standard
of religion and morality is undoubtedly far higher. At all
events, in 1868, we are awake. We see and feel evils to which,

20 THE " GOOD OLD TIMES" A MYTH.
a hundred years ago, men were insensible. We struggle to be
free from these evils ; we desire to amend. This is a vast im
provement. With all our many faults we are not sound asleep.
On every side there is stir, activity, movement, progress, and
not stagnation. Bad as we are, we confess our badness ; weak
as we are, we acknowledge our failings ; feeble as our efforts
are, we strive to amend ; little as we do for Christ, we do try
to do something. Let us thank God for this ! Things might
be worse. Comparing our own days with the middle of last
century, we have reason to thank God and take courage. Eng
land is in a better state than it was a hundred years ago.

II.
&Ije itteuiu bn toljixlj Cljrisiiamhj teas nfaibcb
irt (Shiglunb
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
Improvement of England since middle of Eighteenth Century an undeniable Fact — Agents
in effecting the Change a few isolated and humble Clergymen — Preaching the chief
Instrument they employed — The Manner of their Preaching — The Substance of their
Preaching. THAT a great change for the better has come over Eng
land in the last hundred years is a fact which I sup
pose no well-informed person would ever attempt to
deny. You might as well attempt to deny that there was a
Protestant Reformation in the days of Luther, a Long Parlia
ment in the time of Cromwell, or a French republic at the end
of the last century. There has been a vast change for the
better. Both in religion and morality the country has gone
through a complete revolution. People neither think, nor talk,
nor act as they did in 1750. It is a great fact, which the chil
dren of this world cannot deny, however they may attempt to
explain it. They might as well try to persuade us that high-water
and low-water at London Bridge are one and the same thing.
But by what agency was this great change effected ? To
whom are we indebted for the immense improvement in religion
and morality which undoubtedly has come over the land? Who,
in a word, were the instruments that God employed in bringing
about the great English Reformation of the eighteenth century?

22 IMPROVEMENT OF ENGLAND
This is the one point that I wish to examine generally in the
present chapter. The names and biographies of the principal
agents I shall reserve for future chapters.
The government ofthe country can lay no claim to the credit
of the change. Morality cannot be called into being by penal
enactments and statutes. People were never yet made religious
by Acts of Parliament. At any rate, the Parliaments and ad
ministrations of last century did as little for religion and moral
ity as any that ever existed in England.
Nor yet did the change come from the Church of England,
as a body. The leaders of that venerable communion were
utterly unequal to the times. Left to herself, the Church of
England would probably have died of dignity, and sunk at her
anchors. Nor yet did the change come from the Dissenters. Content
with their hardly-won triumphs, that worthy body of men
seemed to rest upon their oars. In the plenary enjoyment of
their rights of conscience, they forgot the great vital principles
of their forefathers, and their own duties and responsibilities.
Who, then, were the reformers of the last century ? To whom
are we indebted, under God, for the change which took place ?
The men who wrought deliverance for us, a hundred years
ago, were a few individuals, most of them clergymen of the
Established Church, whose hearts God touched about the same
time in various parts of the country. They were not wealthy
or highly connected. They had neither money to buy ad
herents, nor family influence to command attention and respect.
They were not put forward by any Church, party, society, or
institution. They were simply men whom God stirred up and
brought out to do his work, without previous concert, scheme,
or plan. They did his work in the old apostolic way, by
becoming the evangelists of their day. They taught one set of
truths. They taught them in the same way, with fire, reality,
earnestness, as men fully convinced of what they taught. They

AN UNDENIABLE FACT. 23
taught them in the same spirit, always loving, compassionate,
and, like Paul, even weeping, but always bold, unflinching, and
not fearing the face of man. And they taught them on the
same plan, always acting on the aggressive ; not waiting for
sinners to come to them, but going after, and seeking sinners ;
not sitting idle till sinners offered to repent, but assaulting the
high places of ungodliness like men storming a breach, and
giving sinners no rest so long as they stuck to their sins.
The movement of these gallant evangelists shook England
from one end to another. At first people in high places
affected to despise them. The men of letters sneered at them
as fanatics; the wits cut jokes, and invented smart names for
them ; the Church shut her doors on them ; the Dissenters
turned the cold shoulder on them ; the ignorant mob persecuted
them. But the movement of these few evangelists went on, and
made itself felt in every part of the land. Many were aroused
and awakened to think about religion ; many were shamed out
of their sins ; many were restrained and frightened at their own
ungodliness; many were gathered together and induced to pro
fess a decided hearty religion ; many were converted ; many
who affected to dislike the movement were secretly provoked
to emulation. The little sapling became a strong tree ; the
little rill became a deep, broad stream ; the little spark became
a steady burning flame. A candle was lighted, of which we are
now enjoying the benefit. The feeling of all classes in the land
about religion and morality gradually assumed a totally different
complexion. And all this, under God, was effected by a few
unpatronized, unpaid adventurers ! When God takes a work
in hand, nothing can stop it. When God is for us, none can
be against us.
The instrumentality by which the spiritual reformers of the
last century carried on their operations was of the simplest
description. It was neither more nor less than the old apostolic
weapon oi preaching. The sword which St. Paul wielded with

2 4 THE INSTR UMENT EMPL 0 YED.
such mighty effect, when he assaulted the strongholds of hea
thenism eighteen hundred years ago, was the same sword by
which they won their victories. To say, as some have done,
that they neglected education and schools, is totally incorrect.
Wherever they gathered congregations, they cared for the chil
dren. To say, as others have done, that they neglected the
sacraments, is simply false. Those who make that assertion
only expose their entire ignorance of the religious history of
England a hundred years ago. It would be easy to name men
among the leading reformers of the last century whose com
municants might be reckoned by hundreds, and who honoured
the Lord's Supper more than forty-nine out of fifty clergymen
in their day. But beyond doubt preaching was their favourite
weapon. They wisely went back to first principles, and took
up apostolic plans. They held, with St. Paul, that a minister's
first work is " to preach the gospel."
They preached everywhere. If the pulpit of a parish church
was open to them, they gladly availed themselves of it. If it
could not be obtained, they were equally ready to preach in a
barn. No place came amiss to them. In the field or by the
road-side, on the village-green or in a market-place, in lanes or
in alleys, in cellars or in garrets, on a tub or on a table, on a
bench or on a horse-block, wherever hearers could be gathered,
the spiritual reformers of the last century were ready to speak
to them about their souls. They were instant in season and
out of season in doing the fisherman's work, and compassed sea
and land in carrying forward their Father's business. Now, all
this was a new thing. Can we wonder that it produced a great
effect ?
They preached simply. They rightly concluded that the very
first qualification to be aimed at in a sermon is to be under
stood. They saw clearly that thousands of able and well-com
posed sermons are utterly useless, because they are above the
heads of the hearers. They strove to come down to the level

PREACHING TO THE HEART. 25
of the people, and to speak what the poor could understand.
To attain this they were not ashamed to crucify their style, and
to sacrifice their reputation for learning. To attain this they
used illustrations and anecdotes in abundance, and, like their
divine Master, borrowed lessons from every object in nature.
They carried out the maxim of Augustine, — " A wooden key is
not so beautiful as a golden one, but if it can open the door
when the golden one cannot, it is far more useful." They re
vived the style of sermons in which Luther and Latimer used
to be so eminently successful. In short, they saw the truth of
what the great German reformer meant when he said, " No one
can be a good preacher to the people who is not willing to
preach in a manner that seems childish and vulgar to some."
Now, all this again was quite new a hundred years ago.
They preached fervently and directly. They cast aside that
dull, cold, heavy, lifeless mode of delivery, which had long made
sermons a very proverb for dulness. They proclaimed the
words of faith with faith, and the story of life with life. They
spoke with fiery zeal, like men who were thoroughly persuaded
that what they said was true, and that it was of the utmost
importance to your eternal interest to hear it. They spoke like
men who had got a message from God to you, and must deliver
it, and must have your attention while they delivered it. They
threw heart and soul and feeling into their sermons, and sent
their hearers home convinced, at any rate, that the preacher
was sincere and wished them well. They believed that you
must speak from the heart if you wish to speak to the heart,
and that there must be unmistakable faith and conviction
within the pulpit if there is to be faith and conviction among
the pews. All this, I repeat, was a thing that had become
almost obsolete a hundred years ago. Can we wonder that it
took people by storm, and produced an immense effect ?
But what was the substance and subject-matter of the preach
ing which produced such wonderful effect a hundred years ago ?

26 THE SUBSTANCE AND SUBJECT-MATTER
I will not insult my readers' common sense by only saying that
it was " simple, earnest, fervent, real, genial, brave, life-like,"
and so forth ; I would have it understood that it was eminently
doctrinal, positive, dogmatical, and distinct. The strongholds
of the last century's sins would never have been cast down by
mere earnestness and negative teaching. The trumpets which
blew down the walls of Jericho were trumpets which gave no
uncertain sound. The English evangelists of last century were
not men of an uncertain creed. But what was it that they
proclaimed ? A little information on this point may not be
without use.
For one thing, then, the spiritual reformers of the last century
taught constantly the sufficiency and supremacy of Holy Scripture.
The Bible, whole and unmutilated, was their sole rule of faith
and practice. They accepted all its statements without ques
tion or dispute. They knew nothing of any part of Scripture
being uninspired. They never allowed that man has any
" verifying faculty " within him, by which Scripture statements
may be weighed, rejected, or received. They never flinched
from asserting that there can be no error in the Word of God ;
and that when we cannot understand or reconcile some part of
its contents, the fault is in the interpreter and not in the text.
In all their preaching they were eminently men of one book.
To that book they were content to pin their faith, and by it to
stand or fall. This was one grand characteristic of their
preaching. They honoured, they loved, they reverenced the Bible.
Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con
stantly the total corruption of human nature. They knew nothing
of the modern notion that Christ is in every man, and that all
possess something good within, which they have only to stir up
and use in order to be saved. They never flattered men and
women in this fashion. They told them plainly that they were
dead, and must be made alive again ; that they were guilty,
lost, helpless, and hopeless, and in imminent danger of eternal

OF THE PREACHING. 27
ruin. Strange and paradoxical as it may seem to some, their
first step towards making men good was to show them that
they were utterly bad ; and their primary argument in persuad
ing men to do something for their souls was to convince them
that they could do nothing at all.
Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con
stantly that Christ's death upon the cross was the only satisfaction
for mails sin ; and that, when Christ died, he died as our sub
stitute — " the just for the unjust." This, in fact, was the cardi
nal point in almost all their sermons. They never taught the
modern doctrine that Christ's death was only a great example
of self-sacrifice. They saw in it something far higher, greater,
deeper than this. They saw in it the payment of man's mighty
debt to God. They loved Christ's person ; they rejoiced in
Christ's promises ; they urged men to walk after Christ's
example. But the one subject, above all others, concerning
Christ, which they delighted to dwell on, was the atoning blood
which Christ shed for us on the cross.
Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con
stantly the great doctrine of justification by faith. They told
men that faith was the one thing needful in order to obtain an
interest in Christ's work for their souls ; that before we believe,
we are dead, and have no interest in Christ ; and that the
moment we do believe, we live, and have a plenary title to all
Christ's benefits. Justification by virtue of church member
ship — justification without believing or trusting — were notions
to which they gave no countenance. Everything, if you will
believe, and the moment you believe ; nothing, if you do not
believe, — was the very marrow of their preaching.
Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con
stantly the universal necessity of heart conversion and a new
creation by the Holy Spirit. They proclaimed everywhere to
the crowds whom they addressed, " Ye must be born again."
Sonship to God by baptism — sonship to God while we do the

28 THE SUBSTANCE AND SUBJECT-MATTER
will of the devil — such sonship they never admitted. The
regeneration which they preached was no dormant, torpid,
motionless thing. It was something that could be seen, dis
cerned, and known by its effects.
Furthermore, the reformers of the last century taught con
stantly the inseparable connection between true faith and personal
holiness. They never allowed for a moment that any church
membership or religious profession was the least proof of a man
being a true Christian if he lived an ungodly life. A true Chris
tian, they maintained, must always be known by his fruits ; and
these fruits must be plainly manifest and unmistakable in all
the relations of life. " No fruits, no grace," was the unvarying
tenor of their preaching.
Finally, the reformers of the last century taught constantly,
as doctrines both equally true, God's eternal hatred against sin,
and God's love towards siiiners. They knew nothing of a " love
lower than hell," and a heaven where holy and unholy are all
at length to find admission. Both about heaven and hell they
used the utmost plainness of speech. They never shrunk from
declaring, in plainest terms, the certainty of God's judgment
and of wrath to come, if men persisted in impenitence and
unbelief; and yet they never ceased to magnify the riches of
God's kindness and compassion, and to entreat all sinners to
repent and turn to God before it was too late.
Such were the main truths which the English evangelists of
last century were constantly preaching. These were the princi
pal doctrines which they were always proclaiming, whether in
town or in country, whether in church or in the open air,
whether among rich or among poor. These were the doctrines
by which they turned England upside down, made ploughmen
and colliers weep till their dirty faces were seamed with tears,
arrested the attention of peers and philosophers, stormed the
strongholds of Satan, plucked thousands like brands from the
burning, and altered the character of the age. Call them simple

OF THE PREACHING. 29
and elementary doctrines if you will. Say, if you please, that
you see nothing grand, striking, new, peculiar about this list of
truths. But the fact is undeniable, that God blessed these
truths to the reformation of England a hundred years ago
What God has blessed it ill becomes man to despise.

III.
drkoirjje ®{jik6elb anb {ns gtimsirg.

CHAPTER I.
Whitefield's Eirth-place and Parentage — Educated at Gloucester Grammar School — Enters
Pembroke College, Oxford — Season of Spiritual Conflict — Books which were made
useful to him — Ordained by Bishop Benson — First Sermon — Preaches in London —
Curate of Dummer, Hants — Goes to America — Returns in a Year — Preaches in the
open air — Is excluded from most London Pulpits — Extent of his Labours for thirty-one
years — Dies at Newbury Port, America, in 1770 — Interesting circumstances ofhis Death.
jjHO were the men that revived religion in England a
hundred years ago ? What were their names, that we
may do them honour ? Where were they born 1 How
were they educated ? What are the leading facts in their lives ?
What was their special department of labour ? To these questions
I wish to supply some answers in the present and future chapters.
I pity the man who takes no interest in such inquiries. The
instruments that God employs to do his work in the world
deserve a close inspection. The man who did not care to look
at the rams' horns that blew down Jericho, the hammer and
nail that slew Sisera, the lamps and trumpets of Gideon, the
sling and stone of David, might fairly be set down as a cold
and heartless person. I trust that all who read this volume
will like to know something about the English evangelists of the
eighteenth century.
The first and foremost whom I will name is the well-known
George Whitefield. Though not the first in order, if we look

WHITEFIELD'S BIR TH-PLA CE. 3 1
at the date of his birth, I place him first in the order of merit,
without any hesitation. Of all the spiritual heroes of a hundred
years ago none saw so soon as Whitefield what the times
demanded, and none were so forward in the great work of
spiritual aggression. I should think I committed an act of
injustice if I placed any name before his.
Whitefield was born at Gloucester in the year 17 14. That
venerable county-town, which was his birth-place, is connected
with more than one name which ought to be dear to every
lover of Protestant truth. Tyndal, one of the first and ablest
translators of the English Bible, was a Gloucestershire man.
Hooper, one of the greatest and best of our English reformers,
was Bishop of Gloucester, and was burned at the stake for
Christ's truth, within view of his own cathedral, in Queen
Mary's reign. In the next century Miles Smith, Bishop of
Gloucester, was one of the first to protest against the Romaniz
ing proceedings of Laud, who was then Dean of Gloucester.
In fact, he carried his Protestant feeling so far that, when Laud
moved the communion-table in the cathedral to the east end,
and placed it for the first time "altar-wise," in 1616, Bishop
Smith was so much offended that he refused to enter the walls
of the cathedral from that day till his death. Places like
Gloucester, we need not doubt, have a rich entailed inheritance
of many prayers. The city where Hooper preached and
prayed, and where the zealous Miles Smith protested, was the
place where the greatest preacher of the gospel England has
ever seen was born.
Like many other famous men, Whitefield was of humble
origin, and had no rich or noble connections to help him for
ward in the world. His mother kept the Bell Inn at Glouces
ter, and appears not to have prospered in business ; at any
rate, she never seems to have been able to do anything for
Whitefield's advancement in life. The inn itself is still stand
ing, and is reputed to be the birth-place, not only of our greatest

32 EDUCATED AT THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL.
English preacher, but also of a well-known English prelate — .
Henry Philpot, Bishop of Exeter.
Whitefield's early life, according to his own account, was
anything but religious ; though, like many boys, he had occa
sional prickings of conscience and spasmodic fits of devout
feeling. But habits and general tastes are the only true test of
young people's characters. He confesses that he was " addicted
to lying, filthy talking, and foolish jesting," and that he was
a " Sabbath-breaker, a theatre-goer, a card-player, and a
romance-reader." All this, he says, went on till he was fifteen
years old.
Poor as he was, his residence at Gloucester procured him the
advantage of a good education at the Free Grammar School of
that city. Here he was a day-scholar until he was fifteen.
Nothing is known of his progress there. He can hardly, how
ever, have been quite idle, or else he would not have been
ready to enter an University afterwards at the age of eighteen.
His letters, moreover, show an acquaintance with Latin, in the
shape of frequent quotations, which is seldom acquired, if not
picked up at school. The only known fact about his school
days is this curious one, that even then he was remarkable for
his good elocution and memory, and was selected to recite
speeches before the Corporation of Gloucester at their annual
visitation of the Grammar School.
At the age of fifteen Whitefield appears to have left school,
and to have given up Latin and Greek for a season. In all
probability, his mother's straitened circumstances made it abso
lutely necessary for him to do something to assist her in busi
ness and to get his own living. He began, therefore, to help
her in the daily work of the Bell Inn. " At length," he
says, " I put on my blue apron, washed cups, cleaned rooms,
and, in one word, became a professed common drawer for nigh
a year and a half."
This state of things, however, did not last long. His mother's

HIS RESIDENCE AT OXFORD. 33
business at the Bell did not flourish, and she finally retired from
it altogether. An old school-fellow revived in his mind the
idea of going to Oxford, and he went back to the Grammar
School and renewed his studies. Friends were raised up who
made interest for him at Pembroke College, Oxford, where the
Grammar School of Gloucester held two exhibitions. And at
length, after several providential circumstances had smoothed
the way, he entered Oxford as a servitor at Pembroke at the age
of eighteen.*
Whitefield's residence at Oxford was the great turning-point
in his life. For two or three years before he went to the Uni
versity his journal tells us that he had not been without religious
convictions. But from the time of his entering Pembroke College
these convictions fast ripened into decided Christianity. He
diligently attended all means of grace within his reach. He
spent his leisure time in visiting the city prison, reading to the
prisoners, and trying to do good. Pie became acquainted with
the famous John Wesley and his brother Charles, and a little
band of like-minded young men, including the well-known author
of " Theron and Aspasio," James Hervey. These were the de
voted party to whom the name " Methodists " was first applied,
on account of their strict "method" of living. At one time he
seems to -have greedily devoured such books as " Thomas a
Kempis," and " Castanuza's Spiritual Combat," and to have been
in danger of becoming a semi-papist, an ascetic, or a mystic,
and of placing the whole of religion in self-denial. He says in
his Journal, " I always chose the worst sort of food. • I fasted
twice a week. My apparel was mean. I thought it unbecom
ing a penitent to have his hair powdered. I wore woollen gloves,
a patched gown, and dirty shoes ; and though I was convinced
* Happening to be at Oxford in June 1865, I went to Pembroke College, and asked
whether any one knew the rooms which Whitefield occupied when he was at Oxford.
The porter informed me that nothing whatever was known about them. The rooms which
the famous Dr. Johnson occupied at Pembroke are still pointed out. Johnson left Oxford
just before Whitefield went up.
(195) 3

34 ORDAINED BY BISHOP BENSON.
that the kingdom of God did not consist in meat and drink, yet
I resolutely persisted in these voluntary acts of self-denial,
because I found in them great promotion of the spiritual life."
Out of all this darkness he was gradually delivered, partly by
the advice of one or two experienced Christians, and partly by
reading such books as Scougal's " Life of God in the Heart of
Man," Law's " Serious CaU," Baxter's " Call to the Unconverted,"
Alleine's " Alarm to Unconverted Sinners," and Matthew
Henry's " Commentary." " Above all," he says, " my mind
being now more opened and enlarged, I began to read the Holy
Scriptures upon my knees, laying aside all other books, and
praying over, if possible, every line and word. This proved
meat indeed and drink indeed to my soul. I daily received
fresli life, light, and power from above. I got more true know
ledge from reading the book of God in one month than I could
ever have acquired from all the writings of men." Once taught
to understand the glorious liberty of Christ's gospel, Whitefield
never turned again to asceticism, legalism, mysticism, or strange
views of Christian perfection. The experience received by bitter
conflict was most valuable to him. The doctrines of free grace,
once thoroughly grasped, took deep root in his heart, and
became, as it were, bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh. Of
all the little band of Oxford methodists, none seem to have got
hold so soon" of clear views of Christ's gospel as he did, and
none kept it so unwaveringly to the end.
At the early age of twenty-two Whitefield was admitted to
holy orders by Bishop Benson of Gloucester, on Trinity Sunday,
1736. His ordination was not of his own seeking. The bishop
heard of his character from Lady Selwyn and others, sent for
him, gave him five guineas to buy books, and offered to ordain
him, though only twenty-two years old, whenever he wished.
This unexpected offer came to him when he was full of scruples
about his own fitness for the ministry. It cut the knot and
brought him to the point of decision. " I began to think."

HIS FIRST SERMON. 35
he says, " that if I held out longer I should fight against
God." Whitefield's first sermon was preached in the very town where
he was born, at the church of St. Mary-le-Crypt, Gloucester.
His own description of it is the best account that can be given :
— " Last Sunday, in the afternoon, I preached my first sermon
in the church of St. Mary-le-Crypt, where I was baptized, and
also first received the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Curiosity,
as you may easily guess, drew a large congregation together
upon this occasion. The sight at first a little awed me. But
I was comforted with a heartfelt sense of the divine presence,
and soon found the unspeakable advantage of having been
accustomed to public speaking when a boy at school, and of
exhorting the prisoners and poor people at their private houses
while at the university. By these means I was kept from being
daunted overmuch. As I proceeded I perceived the fire kindled,
till at last, though so young and amidst a crowd of those who
knew me in my childish days, I trust I was enabled to speak
with some degree of gospel authority. Some few mocked, but
most seemed for the present struck ; and I have since heard
that a complaint was made to the bishop that I drove fifteen
mad the first sermon ! The worthy prelate wished that the
madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday."
Almost immediately after his ordination, Whitefield went to
Oxford and took his degree as Bachelor of Arts. He then
commenced his regular ministerial life by undertaking tempo
rary duty at the Tower Chapel, London, for two months. While
engaged there he preached continually in many London churches;
and among others, in the parish churches of Islington, Bishops-
gate, St. Dunstan's, St. Margaret's, Westminster, and Bow,
Cheapside. From the very first he obtained a degree of popu
larity such as no preacher, before or since, has probably ever
reached. Whether on week-days or Sundays, wherever he
preached, the churches were crowded, and an immense sensa-

3^ HIS VISIT TO AMERICA.
tion was produced. The plain truth is, that a really eloquent,
extempore preacher, preaching the pure gospel with most un
common gifts of voice and manner, was at that time an entire
novelty in London. The congregations were taken by surprise
and carried by storm.
From London he removed for two months to Dummer, a
little rural parish in Hampshire, near Basingstoke. This was a
totally new sphere of action, and he seemed like a man buried
alive among poor illiterate people. But he was soon reconciled
to it, and thought afterwards that he reaped much profit by
conversing with the poor. From Dummer he accepted an
invitation, which had been much pressed on him by the Wesleys,
to visit the colony of Georgia in North America, and assist in
the care of an Orphan House which had been set up near
Savannah for the children of colonists. After preaching for a
few months in Gloucestershire, and especially at Bristol and
Stonehouse, he sailed for America in the latter part of 1737,
and continued there about a year. The affairs of this Orphan
House, it may be remarked, occupied much of his attention
from this period of his life till he died. Though well-meant, it
seems to have been a design of very questionable wisdom, and
certainly entailed on Whitefield a world of anxiety and responsi
bility to the end of his days.
Whitefield returned from Georgia at the latter part of the
year 1738, partly to obtain priest's orders, which were conferred
on him by his old friend Bishop Benson, and partly on business
connected with the Orphan House. He soon, however, dis
covered that his position was no longer what it was before he
sailed for Georgia. The bulk of the clergy were no longer
favourable to him, and regarded him with suspicion as an
enthusiast and a fanatic. They were especially scandalized by
his preaching the doctrine of regeneration or the new birth, as
a thing which -many baptized persons greatly needed ! The
number of pulpits to which he had access rapidly diminished.

OPEN-AIR PREACHING. 37
Churchwardens, who had no eyes for drunkenness and impurity.
were filled with intense indignation about what they called
" breaches of order." Bishops who could tolerate Arianism,
Socinianism, and Deism, were filled with indignation at a man
who declared fully the atonement of Christ and the work of the
Holy Ghost, and began to denounce him openly. In short,
from this period of his life, Whitefield's field of usefulness within
the Church of England narrowed rapidly on every side.
The step which at this juncture gave a turn to the whole
current of Whitefield's ministry was his adoption of the system
of open-air preaching. Seeing that thousands everywhere would
attend no place of worship, spent their Sundays in idleness or
sin, and were not to be reached by sermons within walls, he
resolved, in the spirit of holy aggression, to go out after them
"into the highways and hedges," on his Master's principle, and
" compel them to come in." His first attempt to do this was
among the colliers at Kingswood near Bristol, in February 1739.
After much prayer he one day went to Hannam Mount, and
standing upon a hill began to preach to about a hundred colliers
upon Matt. v. 1-3. The thing soon became known. The
number of hearers rapidly increased, till the congregation
amounted to many thousands. His own account of the be
haviour of these neglected colliers, who had never been in a
church in their lives, is deeply affecting : — " Having," he writes
to a friend, " no righteousness of their own to renounce, they
were glad to hear of a Jesus who was a friend to publicans, and
came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. The
first discovery of their being affected was the sight of the white
gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down their
black cheeks as they came out of their coal-pits. Hundreds of
them were soon brought under deep conviction, which, as the
event proved, happily ended in a sound and thorough conver
sion. The change was visible to all, though numbers chose tc
impute it to anything rather than the finger of God. As the

38 FORBIDDEN TO PREACH.
t
scene was quite new, it often occasioned many inward conflicts.
Sometimes, when twenty thousand people were before me, I had
not in my own apprehension a word to say either to God or
them. But I was never totally deserted, and frequently (for to
deny it would be lying against God) was so assisted that I knew
by happy experience what our Lord meant by saying, ' Out of
his belly shall flow rivers of living water.' The open firmament
above me, the prospect of the adjacent fields, with the sight of
thousands, some in coaches, some on horseback, and some in
the trees, and at times all affected and in tears, was almost too
much for, and quite overcame me."
Two months after this Whitefield began the practice of open-
air preaching in London, on April 27, 1739. The circumstances
under which this happened were curious. He had gone to
Islington to preach for the vicar, his friend Mr. Stonehouse.
In the midst of the prayer the churchwardens came to him and
demanded his license for preaching in the diocese of London.
Whitefield, of course, had not got this license any more than
any clergyman not regularly officiating in the diocese has at
this clay. The upshot of the matter was, that being forbidden
by the churchwardens to preach in the pulpit, he went outside
after tlie communion-service, and preached in the churchyard.
" And," says he, " God was pleased so to assist me in preaching,
and so wonderfully to affect the hearers, that I believe we could
have gone singing hymns to prison. Let not the adversaries
say, I have thrust myself out of their synagogues. No ; they
have thrust me out."
From that day forward he became a constant fieldTpreacher,
whenever weather and the season of the year made it possible.
Two days afterwards, on Sunday, April 29, he records: — "I
preached in Moorfields to an exceeding great multitude. Being
weakened by my morning's preaching, I refreshed myself in
the afternoon by a little sleep, and at five went and preached
at Kennington Common, about two miles from London, when

BECOMES A FIELD-PREACHER. 39
no less than thirty thousand people were supposed to be pre
sent." Henceforth, wherever there were large open spaces
round London, wherever there were large bands of idle, god
less, Sabbath-breaking people gathered together, in Hackney
Fields, Mary-le-bonne Fields, May Fair, Smithfield, Blackheath,
Moorfields, and Kennington Common, there went Whitefield
and lifted up his voice for Christ.* The gospel so proclaimed
was listened to and greedily received by hundreds who never
dreamed of going to a place of worship. The cause of pure
religion was advanced, and souls were plucked from the hand
of Satan, like brands from the burning. But it was going much
too fast for the Church of those days. The clergy, with a few
honourable exceptions, refused entirely to countenance this
strange preacher. In the true spirit of the dog in the manger,
they neither liked to go after the semi-heathen masses of popu
lation themselves, nor liked any one else to do the work for
them. The consequence was, that the ministrations of White-
field in the pulpits of the Church of England from this time
almost entirely ceased. He loved the Church in which he had
been ordained ; he gloried in her Articles ; he used her Prayer-
book with pleasure. But the Church did not love him, and so
lost the use of his services. The plain truth is, that the Church
of England of that day was not ready for a man like Whitefield.
The Church was too much asleep to understand him, and was
vexed at a man who would not keep still and let the devil alone.
The facts of Whitefield's history from this period to the day
of his death are almost entirely of one complexion. One year
was just like another ; and to attempt to follow him would be
only going repeatedly over the same ground. From 1739 to the
year of his death, 1770, a period of thirty-one years, his life was
one uniform employment. He was eminently a man of one thing.

* The reader will remember that all this happened a hundred years ago, when London was
comparatively a small place. Most of the open places where Whitefield preached are now
covered with buildings. Kennington Oval and Blackheath alone remain open at this day

40 EXTENT OF HIS LABOURS.
and always about his Master's business. From Sunday morn
ings to Saturday nights, from the ist of January to the 31st of
December, excepting when laid aside by illness, he was almost
incessantly preaching Christ, and going about the world en
treating men to repent and come to Christ and be saved.
There was hardly a considerable town in England, Scotland, or
Wales, that he did not visit as an evangelist. When churches
were opened to him he gladly preached in churches : when
only chapels could be obtained, he cheerfully preached in
chapels. When churches and chapels alike were closed, or
were too small to contain his hearers, he was ready and willing
to preach in the open air. For thirty-one years he laboured in
this way, always proclaiming the same glorious gospel, and
always, as far as man's eye can judge, with immense effect. In
one single Whitsuntide week, after preaching in Moorfields, he
received one thousand letters from people under spiritual con
cern, and admitted to the Lord's table three hundred and fifty
persons. In the thirty-four years of his ministry it is reckoned
that he preached publicly eighteen thousand times.
His journeyings were prodigious, when the roads and con
veyances of his time are considered. He was familiar with
" perils in the wilderness and perils in the seas," if ever man
was in modern times. He visited Scotland fourteen times, and
was nowhere more acceptable or useful than he was in that
Bible-loving country. He crossed the Atlantic seven times,
backward and forward, in miserable slow sailing ships, and
arrested the attention of thousands in Boston, New York, and
Philadelphia. He went over to Ireland twice, and on one
occasion was almost murdered by an ignorant Popish mob in
Dublin. As to England and Wales, he traversed every county
in them, from the Isle of Wight to Berwick-on-Tweed, and from
the Land's End to the North Foreland.
His regular ministerial work in London for the winter season,
when field-preaching was necessarily suspended, was something

HIS DEATH. 41
prodigious. His weekly engagements at the Tabernacle in
Tottenham Court Road, which was built for him when the
pulpits of the Established Church were closed, comprised the
following work : — Every Sunday morning he administered the
Lord's Supper to several hundred communicants at half-past
six. After this he read prayers, and preached both morning
and afternoon. Then he preached again in the evening at
half-past five, and concluded by addressing a large society of
widows, married people, young men and spinsters, all sitting
separately in the area of the Tabernacle, with exhortations suit
able to their respective stations. On Monday, Tuesday, Wed
nesday, and Thursday mornings, he preached regularly at six.
On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday
evenings, he delivered lectures. This, it will be observed,
made thirteen sermons a week ! And all this time he was car
rying on a large correspondence with people in almost every
part of the world.
That any human frame could so long endure the labours that
Whitefield went through does indeed seem wonderful. That
his life was not cut short by violence, to which he was frequently
exposed, is no less wonderful. But he was immortal till his
work was done. He died at last very suddenly at Newbury
Port, in North America, on Sunday, September the 29th, 1770,
at the comparatively early age of fifty-six. He was once
married to a widow named James, of Abergavenny, who died
before him. If we may judge from the little mention made
of his wife in his letters, the marriage does not seem to have
contributed much to his happiness. He left no children, but
he left a name far better than that of sons and daughters. Never
perhaps was there a man of whom it could be so truly said that
he spent and was spent for Christ than George Whitefield.
The circumstances and particulars of this great evangelist's
end are so deeply interesting, that I shall make no excuse for
dwelling on them. It was an end in striking harmony with the

42 INTERESTING CIRCUMSTANCES
tenor of his life. As he had lived for more than thirty years,
so he died, preaching to the very last. He literally almost died
in harness. " Sudden death," he had often said, " is sudden
glory. Whether right or not, I cannot help wishing that I may
go off in the same manner. To me it would be worse than
death to live to be nursed, and to see friends weeping about
me." He had the desire of his heart granted. He was cut
down in a single night by a spasmodic fit of asthma, almost
before his friends knew that he was ill.
On the morning of Saturday the 29th of September, the day
before he died, Whitefield set out on horseback from Ports
mouth in New Hampshire, in order to fulfil an engagement to
preach at Newbury Port on Sunday. On the way, unfortunately,
he was earnestly importuned to preach at a place called Exeter,
and though feeling very ill, he had not the heart to refuse. A
friend remarked before he preached that he looked more uneasy
than usual, and said to him, " Sir, you are more fit to go to bed
than to preach." To this Whitefield replied : " True, sir ;"
and then turning aside, he clasped his hands together, and
looking up, said : " Lord Jesus, I am weary in thy work, but
not of thy work. If I have not yet finished my course, let me
go and speak for thee once more in the fields, seal thy truth,
and come home and die." He then went and preached to a
very great multitude in the fields from the text 2 Cor. xiii. 5,
for the space of nearly two hours. It was his last sermon, and
a fitting conclusion to his whole career.
An eye-witness has given the following striking account of
this closing scene of Whitefield's life :— " He rose from his seat,
and stood erect. His appearance alone was a powerful sermon.
The thinness of his visage, the paleness of his countenance, the
evident struggling of the heavenly spark in a decayed body for
utterance, were all deeply interesting ; the spirit was willing,
but the flesh was dying. In this situation he remained several
minutes, unable to speak. He then said : ' I will wait for the

OF HIS DEA TH. 43
gracious assistance of God, for he will, I am certain, assist me
once more to speak in his name.' He then delivered perhaps
one of his best sermons. The latter part contained the follow
ing passage : ' I go ; I go to a rest prepared : my sun has given
light to many, but now it is about to set — no, to rise to the
zenith of immortal glory. I have outlived many on earth, but
they cannot outlive me in heaven. Many shall outlive me on
earth and live when this body is no more, but there — oh, thought
divine ! — I shall be in a world where time, age, sickness, and
sorrow are unknown. My body fails, but my spirit expands.
How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ. But I
die to be with him. Plow brief — comparatively brief — has been
my life compared to the vast labours which I see before me
yet to be accomplished. But if I leave now, while so few care
about heavenly things, the God of peace will surely visit you."
After the sermon was over, Whitefield dined with a friend,
and then rode on to Newbury Port, though greatly fatigued.
On arriving there he supped early, and retired to bed. Tradi
tion says, that as he went up-stairs, with a lighted candle in his
hand, he could not resist the inclination to turn round at the
head of the stair, and speak to the friends who were assembled
to meet him. As he spoke the fire kindled within him, and
before he could conclude, the candle which he held in his hand
had actually burned down to the socket. He retired to his
bedroom, to come out no more alive. A violent fit of spasmodic
asthma seized him soon after he got into bed, and before six
o'clock the next morning the great preacher was dead. If ever
man was ready for his change, Whitefield was that man. When
his time came, he had nothing to do but to die. Where he
died there he was buried, in a vault beneath the pulpit of the
church where he had engaged to preach. His sepulchre is
shown to this very day ; and nothing makes the little town
where he died so famous as the fact that it contains the bones
of George Whitefield.

44 GEORGE WHITEFIELD'S MISSION.
Such are the leading facts in the life of the prince of English
evangelists of a hundred years ago. His personal character,
the real extent of his usefulness, and some account of his style of
preaching, are subjects which I must reserve for another chapter.

CHAPTER II.
Estimate of good that Whitefield did — Testimonies to his direct Usefulness — Indirect good
that he did — Peculiar character of his Preaching — Witnesses to his real power as a
Preacher — Analysis of his seventy-five published Sermons — Simplicity, Directness,
Power of Description, Earnestness, Pathos, Action, Voice, and Fluency, his leading
Excellences — Inner Life, Humility, Love to Christ, Laboriousness, Self-denial, Disin
terestedness, Cheerfulness, Catholicity — Specimen of his Preaching.
George Whitefield, in my judgment, was so entirely chief
and first among the English Reformers of the last centurv, that
I make no apology for offering some further information about
him. The real amount of good he did, the peculiar character
of his preaching, the private character of the man, are all points
that deserve consideration. They are points, I may add, about
which there is a vast amount of misconception.
This misconception perhaps is unavoidable, and ought not
to surprise us. The materials for forming a correct opinion
about such a man as Whitefield are necessarily very scanty.
He wrote no book for the million, of world-wide fame, like
Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Progress." He headed no crusade against
an apostate Church, with a nation at his back, and princes on
his side, like Martin Luther. He founded no religious deno
mination, which pinned its faith on his writings and carefully
embalmed his best acts and words, like John Wesley. There
are Lutherans and Wesleyans in the present day, but there are
no Whitefieldites. No ! The great evangelist of last century
was a simple, guileless man, who lived for one thing only, and
that was to preach Christ. If he did that, he cared for nothing
else. The records of such a man are large and full in heaven,
I have no doubt. But they are few and scanty upon earth.

HIS DIRECT USEFULNESS. 45
We must not forget, beside this, that the many in every age
see nothing in a man like Whitefield but fanaticism and enthu
siasm. They abhor everything like " zeal " in religion. They
dislike every one who turns the world upside down, and de
parts from old traditional ways, and will not let the devil alone.
Such persons, no doubt, would tell us that the ministry of
Whitefield only produced temporary excitement, that his preach
ing was common-place rant, and that his character had nothing
about it to be specially admired. It may be feared that
eighteen hundred years ago they would have said much the
same of St. Paul.
The question, " What good did Whitefield do ? " is one which
I answer without the least hesitation. I believe that the direct
good which he did to immortal souls was enormous. I will
go further,— I believe it is incalculable. Credible witnesses
in England, Scotland, and America, have placed on record their
conviction that he was the means of converting thousands of
people. Many, wherever he preached, were not merely pleased,
excited, and arrested, but positively turned from sin, and made
thorough servants of God. " Numbering the people," I do not
forget, is at all times an objectionable practice. God alone
can read hearts and discern the wheat from the tares. Many,
no doubt, in days of religious excitement, are set down as con
verted who are not converted at all. But I wish my readers to
understand that my high estimate of Whitefield's usefulness is
based on a solid foundation. I ask them to mark well what
Whitefield's cotemporaries thought of the value of his labours.
Franklin, the well-known American philosopher, was a cold
blooded, calculating man, a Quaker by profession, and not
likely to form too high an estimate of any minister's work.
Yet even he confessed that "it was wonderful to see the change
soon made by his preaching in the manners of the inhabitants
of Philadelphia. From being thoughtless or indifferent about
religion, it seemed as if all the world were growing religious."

46 TESTIMONIES TO HIS WORTH.
Franklin himself, it may be remarked, was the leading printer
of religious works at Philadelphia; and his readiness to print
Whitefield's sermons and journals shows his judgment of the
hold that he had on the American mind.
Maclaurin, Willison, and Macculloch, were Scotch ministers
whose names are well known north of the Tweed, and the two
former of whom deservedly rank high as theological writers.
All these have repeatedly testified that Whitefield was made an
instrument of doing immense good in Scotland. Willison in
particular says, " that God honoured him with surprising success
among sinners of all ranks and persuasions."
Old Henry Venn, of Huddersfield and Yelling, was a man
of strong good sense, as well as of great grace. His opinion
was, that " if the greatness, extent, success, and disinterested
ness of a man's labours can give him distinction among the
children of Christ, then we are warranted to affirm that scarce
any one has equalled Mr. Whitefield." Again he says : " He
was abundantly successful in his vast labours. The seals of his
ministry, from first to last, I am persuaded, were more than
could be credited could the number be fixed. This is certain,
his amazing popularity was only from his usefulness ; for he no
sooner opened his mouth as a preacher, than God commanded
an extraordinary blessing upon his word."
John Newton was a shrewd man, as well as an eminent
minister of the gospel. His testimony is : " That which finished
Mr. Whitefield's character as a shining light, and is now his
crown of rejoicing, was the singular success which the Lord was
pleased to give him in winning souls. It seemed as if he never
preached in vain. Perhaps there is hardly a place in all the
extensive compass of his labours where some may not yet
be found who thankfully acknowledge him as their spiritual
father." John Wesley did not agree with Whitefield on several theo
logical points of no small importance. But when he preached

HIS INDIRECT USEFULNESS. 47
his funeral sermon, he said : " Have we read or heard of any
person who called so many thousands, so many myriads of
sinners to repentance? Above all, have we read or heard of
any one who has been the blessed instrument of bringing so
many sinners from darkness to light, and from the power of
Satan unto God ? "
Valuable as these testimonies undoubtedly are, there is one
point which they leave totally untouched. That point is the
quantity of indirect good that Whitefield did. Great as the
direct effects of his labours were, I believe firmly that the in
direct effects were even greater. His ministry was made
a blessing to thousands who never perhaps either saw or
heard him.
He was among the first in the eighteenth century who re
vived attention to the old truths which produced the Protestant
Reformation. His constant assertion of the doctrines taught
by the Reformers, his repeated reference to the Articles and
Homilies, and the divinity of the best English theologians,
obliged many to think, and roused them to examine their own
principles. If the whole truth was known, I believe it would
prove that the rise and progress of the Evangelical body in the
Church of England received a mighty impulse from George
Whitefield. But this is not the only indirect good that Whitefield did in
his day. He was among the first to show the right way to
meet the attacks of infidels and sceptics on Christianity. He
saw clearly that the most powerful weapon against such men
is not cold, metaphysical reasoning and dry critical disquisition,
but preaching the whole gospel — living the whole gospel— and
spreading the whole gospel. It was not the writings of Leland,
and the younger Sherlock, and Waterland, and Leslie, that
rolled back the flood of infidelity one half so much as the
preaching of Whitefield and his companions. They were the
men who were the true champions of Christianity. Infidels are

48 CHARACTER OF HIS PREACHING.
seldom shaken by mere abstract reasoning. The surest argu
ments against them are gospel truth and gospel life.
Above all, he was the very first Englishman who seems to
have thoroughly understood what Dr. Chalmers aptly called
the aggressive system. He was the first to see that Christ's
ministers must do the work of fishermen. They must not wait
for souls to come to them, but must go after souls, and " compel
them to come in." He did not sit tamely by his fireside, like
a cat in a rainy day, mourning over the wickedness of the land.
He went forth to beard the devil in his high places. He
attacked sin and wickedness face to face, and gave -them no
peace. He dived into holes and corners after sinners. He
hunted out ignorance and vice wherever they could be found.
In short, he set on foot a system of action which, up to his
time, had been comparatively unknown in this country, but a
system which, once commenced, has never ceased to be em
ployed down to the present day. City missions, town missions,
district visiting societies, open-air preachings, home missions,
special services, theatre preachings, are all evidences that the
value of the " aggressive system " is now thoroughly recognized
by all the Churches. We understand better how to go to work
now than we did a hundred years ago. But let us never forget
that the first man to commence operations of this kind was
George Whitefield, and let us give him the credit he deserves.
The peculiar character of Whitefield' s preaching is the subject
which next demands some consideration. Men naturally wish
to know what was the secret of his unparalleled success. The
subject is one surrounded with considerable difficulty, and it is
no easy matter to form a correct judgment about it. The
common idea of many people, that he was a mere common
place ranting Methodist, remarkable for nothing but great
fluency, strong doctrine, and a loud voice, will not bear a
moment's investigation. Dr. Johnson was foolish enough to
say, that " he vociferated and made an impression, but never

POPULARITY OF HIS PREACHING. 49
drew as much attention as a mountebank does; and that he
did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by
doing what was strange." But Johnson was anything but in
fallible when he began to talk about ministers and religion.
Such a theory will not hold water. It is contradictory to un
deniable facts.
It is a fact that no preacher in England has ever succeeded
in arresting the attention of such crowds as Whitefield con
stantly addressed around London. No preacher has ever been
so universally popular in every country that he visited, in Eng
land, Scotland, and America. No preacher has ever retained his
hold on his hearers so entirely as he did for thirty-four years.
His popularity never waned. It was as great at the end of his
day as it was at the beginning. Wherever he preached, men
would leave their workshops and employments to gather round
him, and hear like those who heard for eternity. This of itself
is a great fact. To command the ear of " the masses " for a
quarter of a century, and to be preaching incessantly the whole
time, is an evidence of no common power.
It is another fact that Whitefield's preaching produced a
powerful effect on people in every rank of life. He won the
admiration of high as well as low, of rich as well as poor, of
learned as well as unlearned. If his preaching had been
popular with none but the uneducated and the poor, we might
have thought it possible that there was little in it but declama
tion arfd noise. But, so far from this being the case, he seems
to have been acceptable to numbers of the nobility and gentry.
The Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Leven, the Earl of Buchan,
Lord Rae, Lord Dartmouth, Lord James A. Gordon, might be
named among his warmest admirers, beside Lady Huntingdon
and a host of ladies.
It is a fact that eminent critics and literary men, like Lord
Bolingbroke and Lord Chesterfield, were frequently his de
lighted hearers. Even the cold artificial Chesterfield was
(195) 4

5° HIS PUBLISHED SERMONS.
known to warm under Whitefield's eloquence. Bolingbroke
said, " He is the most extraordinary man in our times. He has
the most commanding eloquence I ever heard in any person."
Franklin the philosopher spoke in no measured terms of his
preaching powers. Hume the historian declared that it was
worth going twenty miles to hear him.
Now, facts like these can never be explained away. They
completely upset the theory that Whitefield's preaching was
nothing but noise and rant. Bolingbroke, Chesterfield, Hume,
and Franklin, were not men to be easily deceived. They were
no mean judges of eloquence. They were probably among the
best qualified critics of their day. Their unbought and un
biassed opinions appear to me to supply unanswerable proof
that there must have been something very extraordinary about
Whitefield's preaching. But still, after all, the question remains
to be answered, What was the secret of Whitefield's unrivalled
popularity and effectiveness ? And I frankly admit that, with
the scanty materials we possess for forming our judgment, the
question is a very hard one to answer.
The man who turns to the seventy-five sermons published
under Whitefield's name will probably be much disappointed.
He will see in them no commanding intellect or grasp of mind.
He will find in them no deep philosophy, and no very striking
thoughts. It is only fair, however, to say, that by far the greater
part of these sermons were taken down in shorthand by
reporters, and published without correction. These worthy
men appear to have done their work very indifferently, and
were evidently ignorant alike of stopping and paragraphing, of
grammar and of gospel. The consequence is, that many pas
sages in these seventy-five sermons are what Bishop Latimer
would have called a " mingle-mangle," and what we should call
in this day " a complete mess." No wonder that poor White-
field says, in one of his last letters, dated September 26, 1769,
" I wish you had advertised against the publication of my last

DISTINCTIVE CHARACTERISTICS. 51
sermon.' It is not verbatim as I delivered it. It some places
it makes me speak false concord, and even nonsense. In
others the sense and connection are destroyed by injudicious,
disjointed paragraphs, and the whole is entirely unfit for the
public review."
I venture, however, to say boldly that, with all their faults,
Whitefield's printed sermons will well repay a candid perusal.
The reader must recollect that they were not carefully prepared
for the press, like the sermons of Melville or Bradley, but
wretchedly reported, paragraphed, and stopped, and he must
read with this continually before his mind. Moreover, he must
remember that English composition for speaking to hearers,
and English composition for private reading, are almost like
two different languages, so that sermons which " preach " well
" read " badly. Let him, I say, remember these two things,
and judge accordingly, and I am much mistaken if he does not
find much to admire in many of Whitefield's sermons. For my
own part, I must plainly say that I think they are greatly under
rated. Let me now point out what appear to have been the distinc
tive characteristics of Whitefield's preaching.
For one thing, Whitefield preached a singularly pure gospel.
Few men, perhaps, ever gave their hearers so much wheat and
so little chaff. He did not get up to talk about his party, his
cause, his interest or his office. He was perpetually telling you
about your sins, your heart, Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost, the
absolute need of repentance, faith, and holiness, in the way that
the Bible presents these mighty subjects. "Oh, the righteous
ness of Jesus Christ!" he would often say; " I must be excused
if I mention it in almost all my sermons." Preaching of this
kind is the preaching that God delights to honour. It must be
pre-eminently a manifestation of truth.
For another thing, Whitefield's preaching was singularly lucid
and simple. His hearers, whatever they might think of his

52 HIS POWER OF DESCRIPTION.
doctrine, could never fail to understand what he meant. His
style of speaking was easy, plain, and conversational. He seemed
to abhor long and involved sentences. He always saw his mark,
and went directly at it. He seldom troubled his hearers with
abstruse argument and intricate reasoning. Simple Bible state
ments, apt illustrations, and pertinent anecdotes, were the more
common weapons that he used. The consequence was that his
hearers always understood him. He never shot above their
heads. Here again is one grand element of a preacher's suc
cess. He must labour by all means to be understood. It was
a wise saying of Archbishop Usher, " To make easy things seem
hard is every man's work ; but to make hard things easy is the
work of a great preacher."
For another thing, Whitefield was a singularly bold and direct
preacher. He never used that indefinite expression "we,"
which seems so peculiar to English pulpit oratory, and which
only leaves a hearer's mind in a state of misty confusion. He
met men face to face, like one who had a message from God
to them, " I have come here to speak to you about your soul."
The result was that many of his hearers used often to think that
his sermons were specially meant for themselves. He was not
content, as many, with sticking on a meagre tail-piece of appli
cation at the end of a long discourse. On the contrary, a con
stant vein of application ran through all his sermons. " This is
for you, and this is for you." His hearers were never let alone.
Another striking feature in Whitefield's preaching was his
singular power of description. The Arabians have a proverb
which says, " He is the best orator who can turn men's ears
into eyes." Whitefield seems to have had a peculiar faculty of
doing this. He dramatized his subject so thoroughly that it
seemed to move and walk before your eyes. He used to draw
such vivid pictures of the things he was handling, that his
hearers could believe they actually saw and heard them. " On
one occasion," says one of his biographers, " Lord Chesterfield

HIS EARNESTNESS. 53
was among his hearers. The great preacher, in describing the
miserable condition of an unconverted sinner, illustrated the
subject by describing a blind beggar. The night was dark, and
the road dangerous. The poor mendicant was deserted by his
dog near the edge of a precipice, and had nothing to aid him in
groping his way but his staff. Whitefield so warmed with his
subject, and enforced it with such graphic power, that the whole
auditory was kept in breathless silence, as if it saw the move
ments of the poor old man ; and at length, when the beggar
was about to take the fatal step which would have hurled him
down the precipice to certain destruction, Lord Chesterfield
actually made a rush forward to save him, exclaiming aloud,
' He is gone ! he is gone ! ' The noble lord had been so
entirely carried away by the preacher, that he forgot the whole
was a picture."
Another leading characteristic of Whitefield's preaching was
his tremendous earnestness. One poor uneducated man said of
him, that "he preached like a lion." He succeeded in showing
people that he at least believed all he was saying, and that his
heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, were bent on making
them believe it too. His sermons were not like the morning
and evening gun at Portsmouth, a kind of formal discharge,
fired off as a matter of course, that disturbs nobody. They were
all life and fire. There was no getting away from them. Sleep
was next to impossible. You must listen whether you liked it
or not. There was a holy violence about him which firmly
took your attention by storm. You were fairly carried off your
legs by his energy before you had time to consider what you
would do. This, we may be sure, was one secret of his success.
We must convince men that we are in earnest ourselves, if we
want to be believed. The difference between one preacher
and another, is often not so much in the things said, as in the
manner in which they are said.
It is recorded by one of his biographers that an American

54 HIS PATHOS AND FEELING.
gentleman once went to hear him, for the first time, in conse
quence of the report he heard of his preaching powers. The
day was rainy, the congregation comparatively thin, and the
beginning of the sermon rather heavy. Our American friend
began to say to himself, " This man is no great wonder after
all." He looked round, and saw the congregation as little
interested as himself. One old man, in front of the pulpit, had
fallen asleep. But all at once Whitefield stopped short. His
countenance changed. And then he suddenly broke forth in
an altered tone : " If I had come to speak to you in my own
name, you might well rest your elbows on your knees, and your
heads on your hands, and sleep ; and once in a while look up,
and say, What is this babbler talking of? But I have not
come to you in my own name. No ! I have come to you in
the name of the Lord of Hosts " (here he brought down his
hand and foot with a force that made the building ring), " and
I must and will be heard." The congregation started. The
old man woke up at once. " Ay, ay ! " cried Whitefield, fixing
his eyes on him, " I have waked you up, have I ? I meant to
do it. I am not come here to preach to stocks and stones : I
have come to you in the name of the Lord God of Hosts, and
I must, and will, have an audience." The hearers were stripped
of their apathy at once. Every word of the sermon after this
was heard with deep attention, and the American gentleman
never forgot it.
One more feature in Whitefield's preaching deserves special
notice ; and that is, the immense amount of pathos and feeling
which it always contained. It was no uncommon thing with
him to weep profusely in the pulpit. Cornelius Winter, who
often accompanied him in his latter journeys, went so far as to
say that he hardly ever knew him get through a sermon without
some tears. There seems to have been nothing of affectation
in this. He felt intensely for the souls before him, and his
feelings found an outlet in tears. Of all the ingredients of his

WHITEFIELD 'AS AN OR A TOR. 5 5
success in preaching, none, I suspect, were so powerful as this.
It awakened affections and touched secret springs in men,
which no amount of reasoning and demonstration could have
moved. It smoothed down the prejudices which many had
conceived against him. They could not hate the man who
wept so much over their souls. " I came to hear you," said
one to him, " with my pocket full of stones, intending to break
your head ; but your sermon got the better of me, and broke
my heart." Once become satisfied that a man loves you, and
you will listen gladly to anything he has to say.
I will now ask the reader to add to this analysis of White-
field's preaching, that even by nature he possessed several of
the rarest gifts which fit a man to be an orator. His action was
perfect — so perfect that even Garrick, the famous actor, gave it
unqualified praise. His voice was as wonderful as his action —
so powerful that he could make thirty thousand people hear
him at once, and yet so musical and well toned that some said
he could raise tears by his pronunciation of the word " Meso
potamia." His manner in the pulpit was so curiously graceful
and fascinating that it was said that no one could hear him for
five minutes without forgetting that he squinted. His fluency
and command of appropriate language were of the highest
order, prompting him always to use the right word and to put
it in the right place. Add, I repeat, these gifts to the things
already mentioned, and then consider whether there is -hot
sufficient in our hands to account for his power and popularity
as a preacher.
For my own part, I have no hesitation in saying that I believe
no English preacher has ever possessed such a combination of
excellent qualifications as Whitefield. Some, no doubt, have
surpassed him in some of his gifts ; others, perhaps, have
equalled him in others. But for a well-balanced combination
of some of the finest gifts that a preacher can possess, united
with an unrivalled voice, manner, delivery, action, and com-

56 HIS PRIVATE CHARACTER.
mand of words, Whitefield, I repeat my opinion, stands alone.
No Englishman, I believe, dead or alive, has ever equalled him.
And I suspect we shall always find that, just in proportion as
preachers have approached that curious combination of rare
gifts which Whitefield possessed, just in that very proportion
have they attained what Clarendon defines true eloquence to
be — " a strange power of making themselves believed."
The inner life and personal character of this great spiritual
hero of the last century are a branch of my subject on which I
shall not dwell at any length. In fact, there is no necessity for
my doing so. He was a singularly transparent man. There
was nothing about him requiring apology or explanation. His
faults and good qualities were both clear and plain as noon-day.
I shall therefore content myself with simply pointing out the
prominent features of his character, so far as they can be
gathered from his letters and the accounts of his contempo
raries, and then bring my sketch of him to a conclusion.
He was a man of deep and unfeigned humility. No one can
read the fourteen hundred letters of his, published by Dr.
Gillies, without observing this. Again and again, in the very
zenith of his popularity, we find him speaking of himself and
his works in the lowliest terms. " God be merciful to me a
sinner/' he writes on September n, 1753, "and give me, for
his infinite mercy's sake, an humble, thankful, and resigned
heart. Truly I am viler than the vilest, and stand amazed at
his employing such a wretch as I am." " Let none of my
friends," he writes on December 27, 1753, "cry to such a
sluggish, lukewarm, unprofitable worm, Spare thyself. Rather
spur nie on, I pray you, with an Awake, thou sleeper, and
begin to do something for thy God." Language like this, no
doubt, seems foolishness and affectation to the world ; but the
well-instructed Bible reader will see in it the heartfelt experience
of all the brightest saints. It is the language of men like
Baxter, and Brainerd, and M'Cheyne. It is the same mind

HIS DILIGENCE AND SELF-DENIAL. 57
that was in the inspired Apostle Paul. Those that have most
light and grace are always the humblest men.
He was a man of burning love to our Lord Jesus Christ.
That name which is " above every name" stands out inces
santly in all his correspondence. Like fragrant ointment, it
gives a savour to all his communications. Pie seems never
weary of saying something about Jesus. " My Master," as
George Herbert said, is never long out of his mind. Plis love,
his atonement, his precious blood, his righteousness, his readi
ness to receive sinners, his patience and tender dealing with
saints, are themes which appear ever fresh before his eyes. In
this respect, at least, there is a curious likeness between him
and that glorious Scotch divine, Samuel Rutherford.
He was a man of wiwearied diligence and laboriousness about
his Master's business. It would be difficult, perhaps, to name
any one in the annals of the Churches who worked so hard for
Christ, and so thoroughly spent himself in his service. Henry
Venn, in a funeral sermon for him, preached at Bath, bore the
following testimony : — " What a sign and wonder was this man
of God in the greatness of his labours ! One cannot but stand
amazed that his mortal frame could, for the space of near thirty
years, without interruption, sustain the weight of them ; for
what so trying to the human frame, in youth especially, as long-
continued, frequent, and violent straining of the lungs ? Who
that knows their structure would think it possible that a person
little above the age of manhood could speak in a single week,
and that for years — in general forty hours, and in very many
weeks sixty — and that to thousands ; and after this labour,
instead of taking any rest, could be offering up prayers and
intercessions, with hymns and spiritual songs, as his manner
was, in every house to which he was invited ? The truth is,
that in point of labour this extraordinary servant of God did as
much in a few weeks as most of those who exert themselves are
able to do in the space of a year."

5 8 CHEERFULNESS OF HIS NATURE.
He was to the end a man of eminent self-denial. His style of
living was most simple. He was remarkable to a proverb for
moderation in eating and drinking. All through life he was an
early riser. His usual hour for getting up was four o'clock,
both in summer and winter; and equally punctual was he in
retiring about ten at night. A man of prayerful habits, he fre
quently spent whole nights in reading and devotion. Cornelius
Winter, who often slept in the same room, says that he would
sometimes rise during the night for this purpose. He cared
little for money, except as a help to the cause of Christ, and
refused it, when pressed upon him for his own use, once to the
amount of ^7000. He amassed no fortune, and founded no
wealthy family. The little money he left behind him at his
death arose entirely from the legacies of friends. The Pope's
coarse saying about Luther, " This German beast does not love
gold," might have been equally applied to Whitefield.
He was a man of remarkable disinterestedness and singleness of
eye. He seemed to live only for two objects — the glory of God
and the salvation of souls. Of secondary and covert objects
he knew nothing at all. He raised no party of followers who
took his name. He established no denominational system, of
which his own writings should be cardinal elements. A favour
ite expression ofhis is most characteristic ofthe man : " Let the
name of George Whitefield perish, so long as Christ is exalted."
He was a man of a singularly happy and cheerful spirit. No
one who saw him could ever doubt that he enjoyed his religion.
Tried as he was in many ways throughout his ministry — slan
dered by some, despised by others, misrepresented by false
brethren, opposed everywhere by the ignorant clergy of his
time, worried by incessant controversy — his elasticity never
failed him. He was eminently a rejoicing Christian, whose
very demeanour recommended his Master's service. A vene
rable lady of New York, after his death, when speaking of the
influences by which the Spirit won her heart to God, used these

HIS CHARITY AND CATHOLICITY. 59
remarkable words, — "Mr. Whitefield was so cheerful that it
tempted me to become a Christian."
Last, but not least, he was a man of extraordinary charity,
catholicity, and liberality in his religion. He knew nothing of
that narrow-minded feeling which makes some men fancy that
everything must be barren outside their own camps, and that
their own party has got a complete monopoly of truth and
heaven. He loved all who loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sin
cerity. He measured all by the measure which the angels
use, — " Did they profess repentance towards God, faith towards
our Lord Jesus Christ, and holiness of conversation 1" If they
did, they were as his brethren. His soul was with such men,
by whatever name they were called. Minor differences were
wood, hay, and stubble to him. The marks of the Lord
Jesus were the only marks he cared for. This catholicity is
the more remarkable when the spirit of the times he lived in is
considered. Even the Erskines, in Scotland, wanted him to
preach for no other denomination but their own — viz., the
Secession Church. He asked them, "Why only for them?" —
and received the notable answer that " they were the Lord's
people." This was more than Whitefield could stand. He
asked " if there were no other Lord's people but themselves ;"
he told them, " if all others were the devil's people, they cer
tainly had more need to be preached to ;" and he wound up by
informing them, that " if the Pope himself would lend him his
pulpit, he would gladly proclaim the righteousness of Christ in
it." To this catholicity of spirit he adhered all his days. If
other Christians misrepresented him, he forgave them ; and it
they refused to work with him, he still loved them. Nothing
could be a more weighty testimony against narrow-mindedness
than his request, made shortly before his death, that, when he
did die, John Wesley should be asked to preach his funeral
sermon. Wesley and he had long ceased to agree about Cal
vinistic points ; but Whitefield, to the very last, was determined

60 NOT WITHOUT FAULTS.
to forget minor differences, and to regard Wesley as Calvin did
Luther, "only as a good servant of Jesus Christ." On another
occasion a censorious professor of religion asked him " whether
he thought they would see John Wesley in heaven?" "No,
sir," was the striking answer ; " I fear not. Pie will be so near
the throne, and we shall be at such a distance, that we shall
hardly get a sight of him."
Far be it from me to say that the subject of this chapter was
a man without faults. Like all God's saints, he was an imper
fect creature. He sometimes erred in judgment. He often
drew rash conclusions about Providence, and mistook his own
inclination for God's leadings. He was frequently hasty both
with his tongue and his pen. He had no business to say that
"Archbishop Tillotson knew no more of the gospel than Ma
homet." He was wrong to set down some people as the Lord's
enemies, and others as the Lord's friends so precipitately and
positively as he sometimes did. He was to blame for denounc
ing many of the clergy as "letter-learned Pharisees," because
they could not receive the doctrine of the new birth. But still,
after all this has been said, there can be no doubt that in the
main he was an eminently holy, self-denying, and consistent
man. " The faults of his character," says an American writer,
" were like spots on the sun — detected without much difficulty
by any cool and careful observer who takes pains to look for
them, but to all practical purposes lost in one general and genial
effulgence." Well indeed would it be for the Churches of our
day, if God was to give them more ministers like the great
evangelist of England a hundred years ago !
It only remains to say that those who wish to know more
about Whitefield would do well to peruse the seven volumes of
his letters and other publications, which Dr. Gillies edited in
1770. I am much mistaken if they are not agreeably surprised
at their contents. To me it is matter of astonishment that,
amidst the many reprints of the nineteenth century, no pub-

EXTRA CTS FROM SERMON. 6 1
lisher has yet attempted a complete reprint of the works of
George Whitefield.
A short extract from the conclusion of a sermon preached by
Whitefield on Kennington Common, may be interesting to some
readers, and may serve to give them some faint idea of the
great preacher's style. It was a sermon on the text, "What
think ye of Christ ? " (Matt. xxii. 42.)
" O my brethren, my heart is enlarged towards you. I trust
I feel something of that hidden but powerful presence of Christ,
whilst I am preaching to you. Indeed it is sweet — it is ex
ceedingly comfortable. All the harm I wish you who without
cause are my enemies, is that you felt the like. Believe me,
though it would be hell to my soul to return to a natural state
again, yet I would willingly change states with you for a little
while, that you might know what it is to have Christ dwelling
in your hearts by faith. Do not turn your backs. Do not let
the devil hurry you away. Be not afraid of convictions. Do
not think worse of the doctrine because preached without the
church walls. Our Lord, in the days of his flesh, preached on
a mount, in a ship, and a field ; and I am persuaded many have
felt his gracious presence here. Indeed, we speak what we
know. Do not therefore reject the kingdom of God against
yourselves. Be so wise as to receive our witness.
" I cannot, I will not let you go. Stay a little, and let us
reason together. However lightly you may esteem your souls,
I know our Lord has set an unspeakable value on them. He
thought them worthy of his most precious blood. I beseech
you, therefore, O sinners, be ye reconciled to God. I hope you
do not fear being accepted in the Beloved. Behold, he calleth
you. Behold, he prevents, and follows you with his mercy,
and hath sent forth his servants into the highways and hedges
to compel you to come in.
" Remember, then, that at such an hour of such a day, in
such a year, in this place, you were all told what you ought to

62 SPECIMEN OF HIS PREACHING.
think concerning Jesus Christ. If you now perish, it will not be
from lack of knowledge. I am free from the blood of you all.
You cannot say I have been preaching damnation to you. You
cannot say I have, like legal preachers, been requiring you
to make bricks without straw. I have not bidden you to make
yourselves saints and then come to God. I have offered you
salvation on as cheap terms as you can desire. I have offered
you Christ's whole wisdom, Christ's whole righteousness, Christ's
whole sanctification and eternal redemption, if you will but
believe on him. If you say you cannot believe, you say right ;
for faith, as well as every other blessing, is the gift of God. But
then wait upon God, and who knows but he may have mercy
on thee.
" Why do we not entertain more loving thoughts of Christ ?
Do you think he will have mercy on others and not on you ?
Are you not sinners? Did not Jesus Christ come into the
world to save sinners ?
" If you say you are the chief of sinners, I answer that will be
no hindrance to your salvation. Indeed it will not, if you lay
hold on Christ by faith. Read the Evangelists, and see how
kindly he behaved to his disciples, who had fled from and
denied him. ' Go, tell my brethren] says he. He did not say,
'Go, tell those traitors,' but, 'Go, tell my brethren and Peter.'
It is as though he had said, ' Go, tell my brethren in general,
and Peter in particular, that I am risen. Oh, comfort his poor
drooping heart. Tell him I am reconciled to him. Bid him
weep no more so bitterly. For though with oaths and curses
he thrice denied me, yet I have died for his sins : I have risen
again for his justification : I freely forgive him all." Thus slow
to anger and of great kindness, was our all-merciful High Priest.
And do you think he has changed his nature and forgets poor
sinners, now he is exalted to the right hand of God ? No ; he
is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever; and sitteth there
only to make intercession for us.

SPECIMEN OF HIS PREACHING. 63
" Come, then, ye harlots ; come, ye publicans ; come, ye
most abandoned sinners, come and believe on Jesus Christ.
Though the whole world despise you and cast you out, yet he
will not disdain to take you up. Oh amazing, oh infinitely con
descending love ! even you he will not be ashamed to call his
brethren. How will you escape if you neglect such a glorious
offer of salvation ? What would the damned spirits now in the
prison of hell give if Christ was so freely offered to them ? And
why are we not lifting up our eyes in torments ? Does any one
out of this great multitude dare say he does not deserve damna
tion ? Why are we left, and others taken away by death ? What
is this but an instance of God's free grace, and a sign of his
good-will toward us ? Let God's goodness lead us to repentance.
Oh, let there be joy in heaven over some of you repenting ! "

IV.
$oIjrt Mesko anb bis Uttnrsirj).

CHAPTER I.
John Wesley — Reason why better known than many of his Contemporaries — Birth-place —
Sketch of his Father and Mother— Educated at Charter-House and Oxford — Early
Religious History — Ordained, 1725 — Lives at Oxford eight Years — Joins the Methodist
Club — Sails for Georgia, 1736 — Returns to England, 173S — Commences Field-preach
ing — Continues Working for fifty-three Years — Dies in 1791 — Singleness of Eye, Dili
gence, and Versatility of Mind — Arminianism.
|HE second in the list of English Reformers of the last
century, whose history I propose to consider, is a man
of world-wide reputation — the famous John Wesley.
The name of this great evangelist is perhaps better known
than that of any of his fellow-labourers a hundred years ago.
This, however, is easily accounted for. He lived to the ripe
old age of eighty-eight. For sixty-five years he was continually
before the eyes of the public, and doing his Master's work in
every part of England. He founded a new religious denomina
tion, remarkable to this very day for its numbers, laboriousness,
and success, and justly proud of its great founder. His life has
been repeatedly written by his friends and followers, his works
constantly reprinted, his precepts and maxims reverentially
treasured up and embalmed, like Joseph's bones. In fact, if
ever a good Protestant has been practically canonised, it has
been John Wesley ! It would be strange indeed if his name
was not well known.

JOHN WESLEY'S BIRTH. 65
Of such a man as this I cannot pretend to give more than a
brief account in the short space of a fevv pages. The leading
facts of his long and well-spent life, and the leading features of
his peculiar character, are all that I can possibly compress into
the limits of this memoir. Those who want more must look
elsewhere.* John Wesley was born on the 17th of June 1703, at Epworth,
in North Lincolnshire, of which parish his father was rector.
He was the ninth of a family of at least thirteen children, com
prising three sons and ten daughters. Of the daughters, those
who grew up made singularly foolish and unhappy marriages.
Of the sons, the eldest, Samuel, was for some years usher of
Westminster School, and an intimate friend ofthe famous Bishop
Atterbury, and finally died head-master of Tiverton School.
The second, John, was founder of the Methodist communion ;
and the third, Charles, was almost throughout life John's com
panion and fellow-labourer.
John Wesley's father was a man of considerable learning and
great activity of mind. As a writer, he was always bringing out
something either in prose or in verse, but nothing, unhappily
for his pocket, which was ever acceptable to the reading public,
or is much cared for in the present day. As a politician, he
was a zealous supporter of the Revolution which brought into
England the House of Orange ; and it was on this account that
Queen Mary presented him to the Crown living of Epworth.
As a clergyman, he seems to have been a diligent pastor and
preacher, of the theological school of Archbishop Tillotson.
As a manager of his worldly affairs, he appears to have been
most unsuccessful. Though rector of a living now valued at
;£iooo a-year, he was always in pecuniary difficulties, was once
* The principal lives of Wesley by Methodist hands are those of Whitehead, Moore,
and Watson. Southey's well-known life of Wesley is not a fair book, and the unfavour
able animus of the writer throughout is painfully manifest. The best, most impartial, and
most complete account of Wesley is one published by Seeley in 1856, by an anonymous
writer. (105) 5

66 JOHN WESLEY'S PARENTS.

\,

in prison for debt, and finally left his widow and children almost
destitute. When I add to this that he was not on good terms
with his parishioners, and, poor as he was, insisted on going up
to London every year to attend the very unprofitable meetings
of Convocation for months at a time, the reader will probably
agree with me that, like too many, he was a man of more
book-learning and cleverness than good sense.
The mother of John Wesley was evidently a woman of extra
ordinary power of mind. She was the daughter of Dr. Annes-
ley, a man well known to readers of Puritan theology as one of
the chief promoters of the Morning Exercises, and ejected from
St. Giles', Cripplegate, in 1662. From him she seems to have
inherited the masculine sense and strong decided judgment
which distinguished her character. To the influence of his
mother's early training and example, John Wesley, doubtless,
was indebted for many of his peculiar habits of mind and quali
fications. Her own account of the way in which she educated all her
children, in one of her letters to her son John, is enough to
show that she was no common woman, and that her sons were
not likely to turn out common men. She says, " None of them
was taught to read till five years old, except Keziah, in whose
case I was over-ruled ; and she was more years in learning than
any of the rest had been months. The way of teaching was
this : the day before a child began to learn, the house was set
in order, every one's work appointed them, and a charge given
that none should come into the room from nine to twelve, or
from two to five, which were our school hours. One day was
allowed the child wherein to learn its letters, and each of them
did in that time know all its letters, great and small, except
Molly and Nancy, who were a day and a half before they knew
them perfectly, for which I then thought them very dull ; but
the reason why I thought them so was because the rest learned
so readily, and your brother Samuel, who was the first child I

HIS MOTHER'S MEETINGS. 67
ever taught, learnt the alphabet in a few hours. He was five
years old on the 10th of February; the next day he began to
learn, and as soon as he knew the letters, began at the first
chapter of Genesis. He was taught to spell the first verse, then
to read it over and over till he could read it off-hand without
any hesitation ; so on to the second, &c, till he took ten verses
for a lesson, which he quickly did. Easter fell low that year,
and by Whitsuntide he could read a chapter very well, for he
read continually, and had such a prodigious memory that I
cannot remember ever to have told him the same word twice.
What was stranger, any word he had learnt in his lesson he knew
wherever he saw it, either in his Bible or any other book, by which
means he learned very soon to read an English author well."
Her energetic and decided conduct, as wife of a parish
clergyman, is strikingly illustrated by a correspondence still
extant between herself and her husband on a curious occasion.
It appears that during Mr. Wesley's long-protracted absences
from home in attending Convocation, Mrs. Wesley, dissatisfied
with the state of things at Epworth, began the habit of gathering
a few parishioners at the rectory on Sunday evenings and read
ing to them. As might naturally have been expected, the
attendance soon became so large that her husband took alarm
at the report he heard, and made some objections to the prac
tice. The letters of Mrs. Wesley on this occasion are a model
of strong, hard-headed, Christian good sense, and deserve the
perusal of many timid believers in the present day. After de
fending what she had done by many wise and unanswerable
arguments, and beseeching her husband to consider seriously
the bad consequences of stopping the meeting, she winds up all
with the following remarkable paragraph : — " If you do, after
all, think fit to dissolve this assembly, do not tell me that you
desire me to do it, for that will not satisfy my conscience. But
send me your positive command in such full and express terms
as may absolve me from all guilt and punishment for neglecting

68 ED UCA TED A T CHAR TER- HO USE.
the opportunity of doing good, when you and I shall appear
before the great and awful tribunal of our Lord Jesus Christ."
A mother of this stamp was just the person to leave deep
marks and impressions on the minds of her children. Of the
old rector of Epworth we can trace little in his sons John and
Charles, except, perhaps, their poetical genius. But there is
much in John's career and character throughout life which shows
the hand of his mother.
The early years of John Wesley's life appear to have passed
quietly away in his Lincolnshire home. The only remarkable
event recorded by his biographers is his marvellous escape
from being burnt alive, when Epworth rectory was burned down.
This happened in 1709, when he was six years old, and seems
to have been vividly impressed on his mind. He was pulled
through the bedroom window, at the last moment, by a man
who, for want of a ladder, stood on another man's shoulders.
Just at that moment the roof of the house fell in, but happily
fell inward, and the boy and his deliverer escaped unhurt. He
says himself, in his description of the event, "When they
brought me to the house where my father was, he cried out,
' Come, neighbours, let us kneel down ! let us give thanks to
God ! He has given me all my eight children ; let the house
go, I am rich enough.' "
In the year 17 14, at the age of eleven, John Wesley was
placed at the Charter-house School in London. That mighty
plunge in life — a boy's first entrance at a public school— seems
to have done him no harm. He had probably been well
grounded at his father's house in all the rudiments of a classical
education, and soon became distinguished for his diligence and
progress at school. At the age of sixteen his elder brother,
then an usher at Westminster, describes him as " a brave boy,
learning Hebrew as fast as he can."
In the year 1720, at the age of seventeen, John Wesley went
up to Oxford as an undergraduate, having been elected to

EARL Y RELIGIOUS HISTOR Y. 69
Christ Church. Little is known of the first three or four years
of his university life, except that he was steady, studious, and
remarkable for his classical knowledge and genius for compo
sition. It is evident, however, that he made the best use ofhis
time at college, and picked up as much as he could in a day
when honorary class-lists were unknown, and incitements to
study were very few. Like most great divines, he found the ad
vantage of university education all his life long. Men might
dislike his theology, but they could never say that he was a
fool, and had no right to be heard.
In the beginning of 1725, at the age of twenty-two, he seems
to have gone through much exercise of mind as to the choice
of a profession. Naturally enough, he thought of taking orders,
but was somewhat daunted by serious reflection on the solemnity
of the step. This very reflection, however, appears to have
been most useful to him. and to have produced in his mind
deeper thoughts about God, his soul, and religion generally,
than he had ever entertained before. He began to study
divinity, and to go through a regular course of reading for the
ministry. He had, probably, no very trustworthy guide in his
choice of religious literature at this period. The books which
apparently had the greatest influence on him were Jeremy
Taylor's " Holy Living and Dying," and Thomas a Kempis's
" Imitation of Christ." Devout and well-meaning as these
authors are, they certainly were not likely to give him very
clear views of scriptural Christianity, or very cheerful and happy
views of Christ's service. In short, though they did him good
by making him feel that true religion was a serious business, and
a concern of the heart, they evidently left him in much dark
ness and perplexity.
At this stage of John Wesley's life, his correspondence with
his father and mother is peculiarly interesting, and highly
creditable both to the parents and the son. He evidently
opened his mind to them, and told them all his mental and

7° CORRESPONDENCE WITH HIS PARENTS.
spiritual difficulties. His letters and their replies are well worth
reading. They all show more or less absence of spiritual light
and clear views of the gospel. But a singular vein of honesty
and conscientiousness runs throughout. One feels " This is
just the spirit that God will bless. This is the single eye to
which will be given more light."
Let us hear what his father says about the question, " Which
is the best commentary on the Bible 1" "I answer, the Bible
itself. For the several paraphrases and translations of it in the
Polyglot, compared with the original and with one another, are
in my opinion, to an honest, devout, industrious, and humble
man, infinitely preferable to any comment I ever saw."
Let us hear what his mother says on the point of taking
holy orders : — " The alteration of your temper has occasioned
me much speculation. I, who am apt to be sanguine, hope it
may proceed from the operation of God's Holy Spirit, that by
taking off your relish for earthly enjoyments he may prepare
and dispose your mind for a more serious and close application
to things of a more sublime and spiritual nature. If it be so,
happy are you if you cherish those dispositions. And now in
good earnest resolve to make religion the business of your life ;
for, after all, that is the one thing that, strictly speaking, is
necessary : all things beside are comparatively little to the pur
poses of life. I heartily wish you would now enter upon a strict
examination of yourself, that you may know whether you have
a reasonable hope of salvation by Jesus Christ. If you have
the satisfaction of knowing, it will abundantly reward your
pains ; if you have not, you will find a more reasonable occasion
for tears than can be met with in a tragedy. This matter de
serves great consideration by all, but especially by those designed
for the ministry, who ought above all things to make their own
calling and election sure, lest, after they have preached to others,
they themselves should be cast away."
Let us hear what his mother says about Thomas a Kempis's

HIS ORDINATION. 71
opinion, that all mirth or pleasure is useless, if not sinful. She
observes : — " I take Kempis to have been an honest, weak man,
that had more zeal than knowledge, by his condemning all
mirth or pleasure as sinful or useless, in opposition to so many
direct and plain texts of Scripture. Would you judge of the
lawfulness or unlawfulness of pleasures ? of the innocence or
malignity of actions ? take this rule, — whatever weakens your
reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your
sense of God, or takes off the relish of spiritual things ; in short,
whatever increases the strength and authority cf your body over
your mind, that thing is sin to you, however innocent it may be
in itself."
Let us hear what John Wesley himself says in a letter on the
opinion of Jeremy Taylor — " Whether God has forgiven us or
no, we know not ; therefore let us be sorrowful for ever having
sinned." He remarks — " Surely the graces of the Holy Ghost
are not of so little force as that we cannot perceive whether we
have them or not. If we dwell in Christ, and Christ in us,
which He will not do unless we be regenerate, certainly we
must be. sensible of it. If we never can have any certainty of
being in a state of salvation, good reason is it that every moment
should be spent, not in joy, but in fear and trembling; and
then, undoubtedly, in this life we are of all men most miserable.
God deliver us from such a fearful expectation as this."
Correspondence of this style could hardly fail to do good to
a young man in John Wesley's frame of mind. It led him no
doubt to closer study of the Scriptures, deeper self-examination,
and more fervent prayer. Whatever scruples he may have had
were finally removed, and he was at length ordained deacon on
September the 19th, 1725, by Dr. Potter, then Bishop of Oxford,
and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.
In the year 1726 John Wesley was elected Fellow of Lincoln
College, after a contest of more than ordinary severity. His
recently adopted seriousness of deportment and general reli-

72 HIS RESIDENCE AT OXFORD.
giousness were used as a handle against him by his adversaries.
But his high character carried him triumphantly through all
opposition, to the great delight of his father. Tried as he ap
parently was at the time in his temporal circumstances, he
wrote : " Whatever will be my own fate before the summer is
over God knows ; but, wherever I am, my Jack is Fellow of
Lincoln." The eight years following John Wesley's election to his fel
lowship of Lincoln— from 1726 to 1734 — form a remarkable
epoch in his life, and certainly gave a tone and colour to all
his future history. During the whole of these years he was
resident at Oxford, and for some time at any rate acted as tutor
and lecturer in his college. Gradually, however, he seems to
have laid himself out more and more to try to do good to
others, and latterly was entirely taken up with it.
His mode of action was in the highest degree simple and
unpretending. Assisted by his brother Charles, then a student
of Christ Church, he gathered a small society of like-minded
young men, in order to spend some evenings in a week together
in the study of the Greek Testament. This was in November
1729. The members of this society were at first four in num
ber ; namely, John Wesley, Charles Wesley, Mr. Morgan of
Christ Church, and Mr. Kirkman of Merton. At a somewhat
later period they were joined by Mr. Ingham of Queen's, Mr.
Broughton of Exeter, Mr. Clayton of Brazenose, the famous
George Whitefield of Pembroke, and the well-known James
Hervey of Lincoln.
This little band of witnesses, as might reasonably have been
expected, soon began to think of doing good to others, as well as
getting good themselves. In the summer of 1730 they began
to visit prisoners in the castle and poor people in the town, to
send neglected children to school, to give temporal aid to the
sick and needy, and to distribute Bibles and Prayer-books
among those who had not got them. Their first steps were

THE ' ' IIOL Y CL UB. " 73
taken very cautiously, and with frequent reference to John
Wesley's father for advice. Acting by his advice, they laid all
their operations before the Bishop of Oxford and his chaplain,
and did nothing without full ecclesiastical sanction.
Cautious, and almost childish, however, -as the proceedings
of these young men may appear to us in the present day, they
were too far in advance of the times to escape notice, hatred,
and opposition. A kind of persecution and clamour was raised
against Wesley and his companions as enthusiasts, fanatics, and
troublers of Israel. They were nicknamed the " Methodists "
or " Holy Club," and assailed with a storm of ridicule and
abuse. Through this, however, they manfully persevered, and
held on their way, being greatly encouraged by the letters of
the old Rector of Epworth. In one of them he says, " I hear
my son John has the honour of being styled the Father of
the Holy Club. If it be so, I am sure I must be the grand
father of it, and I need not say that I had rather any of my
sons should be so dignified and distinguished than have the
title His Holiness."
The real amount of spiritual good that John Wesley did
during these eight years of residence at Oxford is a point that
cannot easily be ascertained. With all his devotedness, asceti
cism, and self-denial, it must be remembered that at this time
he knew very little of the pure gospel of Christ. His views of
religious truth, to say the least, were very dim, misty, defective,
and indistinct. No one was more sensible of this than he
afterwards was himself, and no one could be more ready and
willing to confess it. Such books as " Law's Serious Call,"
" Law's Christian Perfection," " Theologia Germanica," and
mystical writers, were about the highest pitch of divinity that
he had yet attained. But we need not doubt that he learned
experience at this period which he found useful in after-life.
At any rate he became thoroughly trained in habits of labo-
riousness, time-redemption, and self-mortification, which he

74 SAILS FOR GEORGIA.
carried with him to the day of his death. God has his own
way of tempering and preparing instruments for his work, and,
whatever we may think, we may be sure his way is best.
In the year 1734 John Wesley's father died, and the family
home was broken up. Just at this time the providence of God
opened up to him a new sphere of duty, the acceptance of
which had a most important effect on his whole spiritual history.
This sphere was the colony of Georgia, in North America.
The trustees of that infant settlement were greatly in want of
proper clergymen to send out, both to preach the gospel to the
Indians and to provide means of grace for the colonists. At
this juncture John Wesley and his friends were suggested to
their notice, as the most suitable persons they could find, on
account of their high character for regular behaviour, attention
to religious duties, and readiness to endure hardships. The
upshot of the matter was, that an offer was made to John
Wesley, and, after conferring with Mr. Law, his mother, his
elder brother, and other friends, he accepted the proposal of
the trustees, and, in company with his brother Charles and their
common friend Mr. Ingham, set sail for Georgia.
Wesley landed in Georgia on the 6th of February 1736, after
a long stormy voyage of four months, and remained in the
colony two years. I shall not take up the reader's time by any
detailed account of his proceedings there. It may suffice to
say, that, for any good he seems to have done, his mission was
almost useless. Partly from the inherent difficulties of an
English clergyman's position in a colony — partly from the con
fused and disorderly condition of the infant settlement where
he was stationed — partly from a singular want of tact and dis
cretion in dealing with men and things — partly, above all, from
his own very imperfect views of the gospel, Wesley's expedition
to Georgia appears to have been a great failure, and he was evi
dently glad to get away.
V The ways of God, however, are not as man's ways. There

RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 75
was a "need be" for the two years' absence in America, just
as there was for Philip's journey down the desert road to Gaza,
and Paul's sojourn in prison at Cassarea. If Wesley did nothing
in Georgia, he certainly gained a great deal. If he taught little
to others, he undoubtedly learned much. On the outward
voyage he became acquainted with some Moravians on board,
and was deeply struck by their deliverance from " the fear of
death " in a storm. After landing in Georgia he continued his
intercourse with them, and discovered to his astonishment that
there was such a thing as personal assurance of forgiveness.
These things, combined with the peculiar trials, difficulties, and
disappointments of his colonial ministry, worked mightily on
his mind, and showed him more of himself and the gospel than
he had ever learned before. The result was that he landed at
Deal on the ist of February 1738, a very much humbler, but a
much wiser man than he had ever been before. In plain words,
he had become the subject of a real inward work of the Holy
Ghost. Wesley's own accounts of his spiritual experience during these
two years of his life are deeply interesting. I will transcribe
one or two of them.
On February the 7th, 1736, he records: — "On landing in
Georgia I asked the advice of Mr. Spangenberg, one of the
German pastors, with regard to my own conduct. He said in
reply, ' My brother, I must first ask you one or two questions.
Have you the witness within yourself? Does the Spirit of God
bear witness with your spirit that you are a child of God ?' — I
was surprised, and knew not what to answer. He observed it,
and asked, ' Do you know Jesus Christ?' — I paused, and said,
' I know he is the Saviour of the world.' — ' True,' replied he ;
' but do you know he has saved you ?' — I answered, ' I hope he
has died to save me.' — He only added, ' Do you know yourself?'
—I said, ' I do.' But I fear they were vain words."
On January 24th, 1738, on board ship on his homeward

76 TRUE FALTH.
voyage, he makes the following record : — ' I went to America
to convert the Indians ; but oh, who shall convert me ? Who,
what is he that will deliver me from this evil heart of unbelief?
I have a fair summer religion ; I can talk well ; nay, and be
lieve myself, while no danger is near. But let death look me
in the face, and my spirit is troubled, nor can I say to die is
gain." On February the ist, 1738, the day that he landed in England,
he says : " It is now two years and almost four months since I
left my native country in order to teach the Georgian Indians
the nature of Christianity ; but what have I learned of myself
in the meantime ? Why, what I least suspected, that I, who
went to America to convert others, was myself never converted
to God ! I am not mad, though I thus speak; but I speak the
words of truth and soberness."
" If it be said that I have faith — for many such things have
I heard from miserable comforters — I answer, so have the devils
a sort of faith ; but still they are strangers to the covenant of
promise. . . . The faith I want is a sure trust and confidence in
God that through the merits of Christ my sins are forgiven, and
I reconciled to the favour of God. I want that faith which St.
Paul recommends to all the world, especially in his Epistle to
the Romans ; that faith which makes every one that hath it to
cry, ' I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; and the life
which I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of
God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.' I want that
faith which none can have without knowing that he hath it."
Records like these are deeply instructive. They teach that
important lesson which man is so slow to learn — that we may
have a great deal of earnestness and religiousness without any
true soul-saving and soul-comforting religion— that we may be
diligent in the use of fasting, prayers, forms, ordinances, and
the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, without knowing anything
of inward joy, peace, or communion with God — and above all,

STAR IS A RELIGIOUS SOCIETY. 77
that we may be moral in life, and laborious in good works,
without being true believers in Christ, or fit to die and meet
God. Well would it be for the churches if truths like these
were proclaimed from every pulpit, and pressed on every con
gregation ! Thousands, for lack of such truths, are walking in
a vain shadow, and totally ignorant that they are yet dead in
sins. If any one wants to know how far a man may go in
outward goodness, and yet not be a true Christian, let him
carefully stud)' the experience of John Wesley. I am bold to
say that it is eminently truth for the times.
A man hungering and thirsting after righteousness, as Wes
ley was now, was not left long without more light. The good
work which the Holy Ghost had begun within him was carried
on rapidly after he landed in England, until the sun rose on his
mind, and the shadows passed away. Partly by conference
with'Peter Bohler, a Moravian, and other Moravians in London,
partly by study of the Scriptures, partly by special prayer for
living, saving, justifying faith as the gift of God, he was brought
to a clear view of the gospel, and found out the meaning of joy
and peace in simply believing. Let me add — as an act of
justice to one of whom the world was not worthy — that at this
period he was, by his own confession, much helped by Martin
Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. {/
This year, 1738, was beyond doubt the turning-point in Wes
ley's spiritual history, and gave a direction to all his subsequent
life. It was in the spring of this year that he began a religious
society at the Moravian Chapel in Fetter Lane, London, which
was the rough type and pattern of all Methodist societies formed
afterwards. The rules of this little society are extant still, and
with some additions, modifications, and improvements, contain
the inward organization of Methodism in the present day. It
was at this period also that he began preaching the new truths
he had learned, in many of the pulpits in London, and soon
found, like Whitefield, that the proclamation of salvation by

78 COMMENCES FIELD-PREACHING.
grace, and justification by faith, was seldom allowed a second
time. It was in the winter of this year, after returning from a
visit to the Moravian settlement in Germany, that he began
aggressive measures on home heathenism, and in the neighbour
hood of Bristol followed Whitefield's example by preaching in
the open air, in rooms, or wherever men could be brought to
gether. We have now reached a point at which John Wesley's history,
like that of his great contemporary Whitefield, becomes one un-
deviating uniform narrative up to the time ofhis death. It would
be useless to dwell on one year more than another. He was
always occupied in one and the same business, always going up
and down the land preaching, and always conducting evangel
istic measures of some kind and description. For fifty-three
years — from 1738 to 1791 — he held on his course, always busy,
and always busy about one thing — attacking sin and ignorance
everywhere, preaching repentance toward God and faith toward
our Lord Jesus Christ everywhere — awakening open sinners,
leading on inquirers, building up saints — never wearied, never
swerving from the path he had marked out, and never doubting
of success. Those only who read the Journals he kept for fifty
years can have any idea of the immense amount of work that he
got through. Never perhaps did any man have so many irons in
the fire at one time, and yet succeed in keeping so many hot.
Like Whitefield, he justly regarded preaching as God's chosen
instrument for doing good to souls, and hence, wherever he
went, his first step was to preach. Like him, too, he was ready
to preach anywhere or at any hour — early in the morning or
late at night, in church, in chapel, or in room — in streets, in
fields, or on commons and greens. Like him, too, he was
always preaching more or less the same great truths — sin, Christ,
and holiness — ruin, redemption, and regeneration — the blood
of Christ and the work of the Spirit — faith, repentance, and con
version — from one end of the year to the other.

HIS SYSTEM OF ORGANIZATION. 79
Wesley, however, was very unlike Whitefield in one important
respect. He did not forget to organize as well as to preach.
He was not content with reaping the fields which he found
ripe for the harvest. He took care to bind up his sheaves and
gather them into the barn. He was as far superior to White-
field as an administrator and man of method, as he was inferior
to him as a mere preacher.* Shut out from the Church of
England by the folly of its rulers, he laid the foundation of a
new denomination with matchless skill, and with a rare discern
ment of the wants of human nature. To unite his people as
one body — to give every one something to do — to make each
one consider his neighbour and seek his edification — to call
forth latent talent and utilize it in some direction — to keep " all
at it and always at it " (to adopt his quaint saying), — these were
his aims and objects. The machinery he called into existence
was admirably well adapted to carry out his purposes. His
preachers, lay-preachers, class- leaders, band-leaders, circuits,
classes, bands, love-feasts, and watch-nights, made up a spiritual
engine which stands to this day, and in its own way can hardly
be improved. If one thing more than another has given per
manence and solidity to Methodism, it was its founder's mas
terly talent for organization.
It is needless to tell a Christian reader that Wesley had con
stantly to fight with opposition. The prince of this world will
* A writer in the North British Review has well and forcibly described the difference
between the two great English evangelists ofthe last century. " Whitefield was soul, and
Wesley was system. Whitefield was the summer cloud which burst at morning or noon a
fragrant exhalation over an ample track, and took the rest of the day to gather again :
Wesley was the polished conduit in the midst of the garden, through which the living water
glided in pearly brightness and perennial music, the same vivid stream from day to day.
All force and impetus, Whitefield was the powder-blast in the quarry, and by one explosive
sermon would shake a district, and detach materials for other men's long work ; deft, neat,
and painstaking, Wesley loved to split and trim each fragment into uniform plinths and
polished stones. Whitefield was the bargeman or the waggoner who brought the timber
of the house, and Wesley was the architect who set it up. Whitefield had no patience for
ecclesiastical polity, no aptitude for pastoral details ; Wesley, with a leader-like .propensity
for building, was always constructing societies, and with a king-like craft of ruling, was
most at home when presiding over a class or a conference. It was their infelicity that they
did not always work together ; it was the happiness of the age, and the furtherance of tlie
gospel, that they lived alongside of one another."

80 HIS DEA TH.
never allow his captives to be rescued from him without a
struggle. Sometimes he was in danger of losing his life by the
assaults of violent, ignorant, and semi-heathen mobs, as at Wed-
nesbury, Walsall, Colne, Shoreham, and Devizes. Sometimes
he was denounced by bishops as an enthusiast, a fanatic, and
a sower of dissent. Often — far too often — he was preached
against and held up to scorn by the parochial clergy, as a here
tic, a mischief-maker, and a meddling troubler of Israel. But
none of these things moved the good man. Calmly, resolutely,
and undauntedly he held on his course, and in scores of cases
lived down all opposition. His letters in reply to the attacks
made upon him are always dignified and sensible, and do equal
honour to his heart and head.
I have now probably told the reader enough to give him a
general idea of John Wesley's life and history. I dare not go
further. Indeed, the last fifty years of his life were so entirely
of one complexion, that I know not where I should stop if I
went further. When I have said that they were years of con
stant travelling, preaching, organizing, conferring, writing, argu
ing, reasoning, counselling, and warring against sin, the world,
and the devil, I have just said all that I dare enter upon.
He died at length in 1791, in the eighty-eighth year of his
life and the sixty-fifth of his ministry, full of honour and respect,
and in the "perfect peace" of the gospel. He had always
enjoyed wonderful health, and never hardly knew what it was
to feel weariness or pain till he was eighty-two. The weary
wheels of life at length stood still, and he died of no disease but
sheer old age.
The manner of his dying was in beautiful harmony with his
life. He preached within a very few days ofhis death, and the
texts of his two last sermons were curiously characteristic of the
man. The last but one was at Chelsea, on February the 18th,
on the words, "The king's business requireth haste" (r Sam.
xxi. 8). The last of all was at Leatherhead, on Wednesday

INCIDENTS OF HIS DEA TH. 8 1
the 23rd, on the words, " Seek ye the Lord while he may be
found" (Isa. Iv. 6). After this he gradually sunk, and died on
Tuesday the 29th. He retained his senses to the end, and
showed clearly where his heart and thoughts were to the very
last. The day but one before he died he slept much and spoke
little. Once he said in a low but distinct manner, " There is
no way into the holiest but by the blood of Jesus." He after
wards inquired what the words were from which he had
preached a little before at Hampstead. Being told they were
these, " Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that
though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that
ye through his poverty might be rich" (2 Cor. viii. 8); he re
plied, " That is the foundation, the only foundation ; there is
no other."
The day before he died, he said suddenly, " I will get up."
While they were preparing his clothes, he broke out in a man
ner which, considering his weakness, astonished all present, in
singing,— " I'll praise my Maker while I've breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my noblest powers ;
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures."
Not long after, a person coming in, he tried to speak, but
could not. Finding they could not understand him, he paused
a little, and then with all his remaining strength cried out,
" The beat of all is, God is with us ;" and soon after, lifting up
his dying voice in token of victory, and raising his feeble arm
with a holy triumph, he again repeated the heart-reviving words,
" The best of all is, God is with us." The night following he
often attempted to repeat the hymn before mentioned, but could
only utter the opening words, " I'll praise ; I'll praise." About
ten o'clock next morning he was heard to articulate the word
" Farewell," and then without a groan fell asleep in Christ and
(195) G

S2 THE METHODIST COMMUNION.
rested from his labours. Truly this was a glorious sunset !
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be
like his."
Wesley was once married. At the age of forty-eight he
married a widow lady of the name of Vizelle, of a suitable age,
and of some independent property, which she took care to have
settled upon herself. The union was a most unhappy one.
Whatever good qualities Mrs. Wesley may have had, they were
buried and swallowed up in the fiercest and most absurd passion
of jealousy. One ofhis biographers remarks, " Had he searched
the whole kingdom, he could hardly have found a woman more
unsuitable to him in all important respects." After making her
husband as uncomfortable as possible for twenty years, by
opening his letters, putting his papers in the hands of his ene
mies in the vain hope of blasting his character, and even some
times laying violent hands on him, Mrs. Wesley at length left
her home, leaving word that she never intended to return.
Wesley simply states the fact in his journal, saying that he knew
not the cause, and briefly adding, " I did not forsake her, I did
not dismiss her, I will not recall her."
Like Whitefield, John Wesley left no children. But he left
behind him a large and influential communion, which he not
only saw spring up, but lived to see it attain a vigorous and
healthy maturity. The number of Methodist preachers at the
time of his death amounted in the British dominions to 313,
and in the United States of America to 198. The number of
Methodist members in the British dominions was 76,968, and
in the United States 57,621. Facts like these need no com
ment ; they speak for themselves. Few labourers for Christ
have ever been so successful as Wesley, and to none certainly
was it ever given to see so much with his own eyes.
In taking a general view of this great spiritual hero of the
last century, it may be useful to point out some salient points
of his character which demand particular attention. When

WESLEY'S PECULIAR QUALIFICATIONS. 83
God puts special honour on any of his servants, it is well to
analyze their gifts, and to observe carefully what they were.
What, then, were the peculiar qualifications which marked
John Wesley?
The first thing which I ask the reader to notice is his extra
ordinary singleness of eye and tenacity of purpose. Once embarked
on his evangelistic voyage, he pressed forward, and never
flinched for a day. " One thing I do," seemed to be his motto
and constraining motive. To preach the gospel, to labour to
do good, to endeavour to save souls, — these seemed to become
his only objects, and the ruling passion of his life. In pursuit
of them he compassed sea and land, putting aside all considera
tions of ease and rest, and forgetting all earthly feelings. Few
men but himself could have gone to Epworth, stood upon their
father's tombstone, and preached to an open-air congregation,
" The kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteous
ness, and peace, and joy in the Ploly Ghost." Few but himself
could have seen fellow-labourers, one after another, carried to
their graves, till he stood almost alone in his generation, and
yet preached on, as he did, with unabated spirit, as if the ranks
around him were still full. But his marvellous singleness of
eye carried him through all. " Beware of the man of one
book," was the advice of an old philosopher to his pupils.
The man of " one thing" is the man who in the long run does
great things, and shakes the world.
The second thing I ask the reader to notice is his extra
ordinary diligence, self-denial, and economy of time. It puts one /
almost out of breath to read the good man's Journals, and to
mark the quantity of work that he crowded into one year. He
was to all appearance always working, and never at rest.
" Leisure and I," he said, " have taken leave of one another.
I propose to be busy as long as I live, if my health is so long
indulged to me." This resolution was made in the prime of
life ; and never was resolution more punctually observed.

84 HIS VERSA TILITY OF MIND.
" Lord, let me not live to be useless," was the prayer which he
uttered after seeing one, whom he once knew as an active and
useful man, reduced by age to be a picture of human nature in
disgrace, feeble in body and mind, slow of speech and under
standing. Even the time which he spent in travelling was not
lost. " History, poetry, and philosophy," said he, " I commonly
read on horseback, having other employment at other times."
When you met him in the street of a crowded city, he attracted
notice not only by his bands and cassock, and his long silvery
hair, but by his pace and manner ; both indicating that all his
minutes were numbered, and that not one was to be lost.
" But though I am always in haste," he said, " I am never in a
hurry, because I never undertake any more work than I can go
through with perfect calmness of spirit." Here, again, is one
secret of great usefulness. We must abhor idleness ; we must
redeem time. No man knows how much can be done in
twelve hours until he tries. It is precisely those who do most
work who find that they can do most.
The last thing which I ask the reader to notice is his marvel-
' lous versatility of mind and capacity for a variety of things. No
one perhaps can fully realize this who does not read the large
biographies which record all his doings, or study his wonderful
Journals. Things the most opposite and unlike — things the
most petty and trifling — things the most thoroughly secular —
things most thoroughly spiritual, — all are alike mastered by his
omnivorous mind. He finds time for all, and gives directions
about all. One day we find him condensing old divinity, and
publishing fifty volumes of theology, called the " Christian
Library;" — another day we find him writing a complete com
mentary on the whole Bible ; — another day we find him com
posing hymns, which live to this day in the praises of many a
congregation; — another day we find him drawing up minute
directions for his preachers, forbidding them to shout and
scream and preach too long, insisting on their reading regularly

AN ARMINIAN IN DOCTRINE. 85
lest their sermons became threadbare, requiring them not to
drink spirits, and charging them to get up early in the morn
ing ; — another day we find him calmly reviewing the current
literature ofthe day, and criticizing all the new books with cool,
and shrewd remarks, as if he had nothing else to do. Like
Napoleon, nothing seems too small or too great for his mind to
attend to ; like Calvin, he writes as if he had nothing to do
but write, preaches as if he had nothing to do but preach, and
administers as if he had nothing to do but administer. A ver
satility like this is one mighty secret of power, and is a striking
characteristic of most men who leave their mark on the world.
To be a steam-engine and a penknife, a telescope and a micro
scope, at the same time, is probably one of the highest attain
ments of the human mind.
I should think my sketch of Wesley incomplete if I did not
notice the objection continually made against him — that he was
an Arminian in doctrine. I fully admit the seriousness of the
objection. I do not pretend either to explain the charge away,
or to defend his objectionable opinions. Personally, I feel
unable to account for any well-instructed Christian holding
such doctrines as perfection and the defectibility of grace, or
denying such as election and the imputed righteousness of
Christ. But, after all, we must beware that we do not condemn
men too strongly for not seeing all things in our point of view,
or excommunicate and anathematize them because they do not
pronounce our shibboleth. It is written in God's Word, " Why
dost thou judge thy brother ? or why dost thou set at nought
thy brother?" We must think and let think. We must learn
to distinguish between things that are of the essence of the
gospel and things which are of the perfection of gospel. We
may think that a man preaches an imperfect gospel who denies
election, considers justification to be nothing more than forgive
ness, and tells believers in one sermon that they may attain

86 WESLEY'S SERMON ON THE
perfection in this life, and in another sermon that they may
entirely fall away from grace. But if the same man strongly
and boldly exposes and denounces sin, clearly and fully lifts up
Christ, distinctly and openly invites men to believe and repent,
shall we dare to say that the man does not preach the gospel
at all ? Shall we dare to say that he will do no good ? I, for
one, cannot say so, at any rate. If I am asked whether I
prefer Whitefield's gospel or Wesley's, I answer at once that I
prefer Whitefield's : I am a Calvinist, and not an Arminian.
But if I am asked to go further, and to say that Wesley preached
no gospel at all, and did no real good, I a»swer at once that I
cannot do so. That Wesley would have done better if he could
have thrown off his Arminianism, I have not the least doubt ;
but that he preached the gospel, honoured Christ, and did
extensive good, I no more doubt than I doubt my own
existence. .Let those who depreciate Wesley as an Arminian, read his
own words in the funeral sermon which he preached on the
occasion of Whitefield's death. He says of his great fellow-
labourer and brother : — ¦
" His fundamental point was to give God all the glory of
whatever is good in man. In the business of salvation he set
Christ as high and man as low as possible. With this point he
and his friends at Oxford — the original Methodists so-called —
set out. Their grand principle was, there is no power by
nature, and no merit in man. They insisted, ' all grace to
speak, think, or act right, is in and from the Spirit of Christ ;
and all merit is not in man, how high soever in grace, but
merely in the blood of Christ' So he and they taught. There
is no power in man, till it is given him from above, to do one
good work, to speak one good word, or to form one good
desire. For it is not enough to say all men are sick of sin : no,
we are all dead in trespasses and sins.
" And we are all helpless, both with regard to the power and

DEATH OF WHITEFIELD. 87
the guilt of sin. For who can bring a clean thing out of an
unclean ? None less than the Almighty. Who can raise those
that are dead, spiritually dead, in sin ? None but he who
raised us from the dust of the earth. But on what consideration
will he do this ? Not for works of righteousness that we have
done. The dead cannot praise thee, O Lord, nor can they do
anything for which they should be raised to life. Whatever,
therefore, God does, he does it merely for the sake of his well
beloved Son. ' He was wounded for our transgressions, he
was bruised for our iniquities. He himself bore all our sins in
his own body on the tree. He was delivered for our offences,
and rose again for our justification.' Here, then, is the sole
meritorious cause of every blessing we can or do enjoy, and, in
particular, of our pardon and acceptance with God, of our full
and free justification. But by what means do we become inter
ested in what Christ has done and suffered ? ' Not by works,
lest any man should boast, but by faith alone.' ' We conclude,'
says the apostle, ' that a man is justified by faith without the
deeds of the law.' And ' to as many as receive Christ he gives
power to become sons of God ; even to them which believe in
his name, who are born not of the will of man but of God.'
" Except a man be thus born again he cannot enter into the
kingdom of God. But all who are thus born of the Spirit have
the kingdom of God within them. Christ sets up his kingdom
in their hearts — righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost. That mind is in them which was in Christ Jesus,
enabling them to walk as Christ walked. His indwelling Spirit
makes them holy in mind, and holy in all manner of conversa
tion. But still, seeing all this is a free gift through the blood
and righteousness of Christ, there is eternally the same reason
to remember — he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.
" You are not ignorant that these are the fundamental doc
trines which Mr. Whitefield everywhere insisted on ; and may
they noAbe summed up, as it were, in two words — ' the new

88 WESLEY'S PREACHING.
birth, and justification by faith?' These let us insist upon with
all boldness, and at all times, in all places, in public and in
private. Let us keep close to these good old unfashionable
doctrines, how many soever contradict and blaspheme."
Such were the words of the Arminian, John Wesley. I make
no comment on them. I only say, before any one despises
this great man because he was an Arminian, let him take care
that he really knows what Wesley's opinions were. Above all,
let him take care that lie thoroughly understands what kind of
doctrines he used to preach in England a hundred years ago.

CHAPTER II.
Wesley's Preaching — Preface to Published Volume of Sermons — Extracts from Sermons
Preached before the University of Oxford — Rules for the Guidance of his Helpers —
Advice to his Preachers — Letter to the Eishop of Lincoln — General Estimate of Wes
ley's Merits.
England a hundred years ago received such deep impressions
from John Wesley, that I should not feel I did him justice if I
did not give my readers a few select specimens of his writings.
Before we turn away from the father of Methodism, let us try to
get some distinct idea of his style of thought and his mode of
expressing himself. Let us see how his mind worked.
The man who could leave his mark so indelibly on his fellow-
countrymen as John Wesley did, we must all feel could have
been no ordinary man. The man who could keep his hold on
assemblies till he was between eighty and ninety years old, and
produce effects second only to those produced by Whitefield,
must evidently have possessed peculiar gifts. Two or three
extracts from his sermons and other writings will probably be
thought interesting and instructive by most Christian readers.
The materials for forming a judgment in this matter are
happily abundant, and easily accessible. A volume of fifty-
seven sermons lies before me at this moment, pjxpared foi

HIS VOLUME OF SERMONS. 89
publication by Wesley's own hands, and first published in 1771.
It is a volume that deserves far more attention than it generally
receives in the present day. The doctrine of some of the dis
courses, I must honestly confess, is sometimes very defective.
Nevertheless, the volume contains many noble passages ; and
there are not a few pages in it which, for clearness, terseness,
pointedness, vigour, and pure Saxon phraseology, are perfect
models of good style.
Wesley's preface to his volume of sermons is of itself very re
markable. I will begin by giving a few extracts from it. He says, — -
" I design plain truth for plain people. Therefore, of set
purpose, I abstain from all nice and philosophical speculations;
from all perplexed and intricate reasonings ; and, as far as
possible, from even the show of learning, unless in sometimes
citing the original Scriptures. I labour to avoid all words
which are not easy to be understood — all which are not used
in common life ; and in particular those technical terms that
so frequently occur in Bodies of divinity — those modes of
speaking which men of reading are intimately acquainted with,
but which to common people are an unknown tongue. Yet I
am not assured that I do not sometimes slide into them un
awares ; it is so extremely natural to imagine that a word which
is familiar to ourselves is so to all the world.
" Nay, my design is, in some sense, to forget all that ever
I have read in my life. I mean to speak in the general, as
if I had never read one author, ancient or modern, always
excepting the inspired. I am persuaded that, on the one hand,
this may be a means of enabling me more clearly to express
the sentiments of my heart, while I simply follow the chain of
my own 'thoughts without entangling myself with those of othei
men ; and that, on the other, I shall come with fewer weights
upon my mind, with less of prejudice and prepossession, either
to search for myself or to deliver to others the naked truth of
the gos^jL

9° EXTRACTS FROM PREFACE TO
" To candid, reasonable men I am not afraid to lay open
what have been the inmost thoughts of my heart. I have
thought, 'I am a creature of a day, passing through life as an
arrow through the air. I am a spirit come from God, and
returning to God, just hovering over the great gulf, till a few
moments hence I am no more seen ! I drop into an un
changeable eternity ! I want to know one thing, — the way to
heaven — how to land safe on that happy shore. God himself
has condescended to teach the way ; for this very end he came
from heaven. He hath written it down in a book. Oh, give
me that book ! At any price give me the book of God ! I
have it : here is knowledge enough for me. Let me be a man
of one book. Here, then, I am free from the busy ways of
men. I sit down alone : only God is here. In his presence
I open, I read his book ; for this end — to find the way to
heaven. Is there a doubt concerning the meaning of what I
read ? — does anything appear dark and intricate ? — I lift up my
heart to the Father of lights : Lord, is it not thy word, " If any
man lack wisdom, let him ask of God :" thou givest liberally,
and upbraidest not. Thou hast said, if any be willing to do
thy will he shall know. I am willing to do ; let me know thy
will. I then search after and consider parallel passages of
Scripture, comparing spiritual things with spiritual. I meditate
thereon with all the earnestness and attention of which my
mind is capable. If any doubt still remains, I consult those
who are experienced in the ways of God ; and then the writings
whereby, being dead, they yet speak. And what I thus learn
that I teach.'
" But some may say, I have mistaken the way myself, although
I have undertaken to teach it to others. It is probable that
many will think this, and it is very possible that I have. But
I trust, whereinsoever I have mistaken, my mind is open to
conviction. I sincerely desire to be better informed. I say to
God and man, ' What I know not teach thou me.' „.jfc

VOLUME OF SERMONS. 9 I
" Are you persuaded you see more clearly than me ? It is
not unlikely that you may. Then treat me as you would
desire to be treated yourself upon a change of circumstances.
Point me out a better way than I have yet known. Show me
it is so by plain proof of Scripture. And if I linger in the path
I have been accustomed to tread, and therefore I am unwilling
to leave it, labour with me a little ; take me by the hand and
lead me as I am able to bear. But be not discouraged if I
entreat you not to beat me down in order to quicken my pace :
I can go but feebly and slowly at best : then I should not be
able to go at all. May I not request you, further, not to give
me hard names, in order to bring me into the right way.
Suppose I was ever so much in the wrong, I doubt this would
not set me right. Rather it would make me run so much the
further from you, and so get more and more out of the way.
" Nay ! perhaps if you are angry, so shall I be too ; and then
there will be small hopes of finding the truth. If once anger
arises, its smoke will so dim the eyes of my soul that I shall be
able to see nothing clearly. For God's sake, if it be possible
to avoid it, let us not provoke one another to wrath. Let us
not kindle in each other this fire of hell ; much less blow it up
into a flame. If we could discern truth by that dreadful light,
would it not be loss rather than gain ? For how far is love,
even with many wrong opinions, to be preferred before truth
itself without love ! We may die without the knowledge of
many truths, and yet be carried into Abraham's bosom. But
if we die without love, what will knowledge avail? Just as
much as it avails the devil and his angels ! "
The next specimen of John Wesley's mind shall be an extract
from a sermon preached by him at St. Mary's, Oxford, before
the University, on June 18, 1738, from the words, "By grace
ye are saved through faith " (Ephes. ii. 8). It concludes with
the following passages : —
"At this time more especially will we speak, that by grace ye

9 2 EXTRA CTS FROM SERMONS PRE A CHED
are saved through faith, because never was the maintaining this
doctrine more seasonable than it is at this day. Nothing but
this can effectually prevent the increase of the Romish delusion
among us. It is endless to attack one by one all the errors of
that Church. But salvation by faith strikes at the root, and all
fall at once when this is established. It was this doctrine,
which our Church justly calls the strong rock and foundation
of the Christian religion, that first drove Popery out of these
kingdoms, and it is this alone can keep it out. Nothing but
this can give a check to that immorality which hath overspread
the land as a flood. Can you empty the great deep drop by
drop ? Then you may reform us by dissuasion from particular
vices. But let the righteousness which is of God by faith be
brought in, and so shall its proud waves be stayed. Nothing
but this can stop the mouths of those who glory in their shame,
and openly ' deny the Lord that bought them.' They can talk
as sublimely of the law as he that hath it written by God in his
heart. To hear them speak on this head might incline one to
think they were not far from the kingdom of God. But take
them out of the law into the gospel ; begin with the righteous
ness of faith, with Christ the end of the law to every one that
believeth; and those who but now appeared almost if not alto
gether Christians, stand confessed the sons of perdition, as far
from life and salvation (God be merciful unto them) as the
depth of hell from the height of heaven.
" For this cause the adversary so rages whenever salvation by
faith is declared to the world. For this reason did he stir up
earth and hell to destroy those who preached it. And for the
same reason, knowing that faith alone could overturn the
foundation of his kingdom, did he call forth all his forces, and
employ all his arts of lies and calumny, to affright that champion
of the Lord of hosts, Martin Luther, from reviving it. Nor can
we wonder thereat ; for as that man of God observes, How
would it enrage a proud, strong man, armed, to be stopped and

BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 93
set at nought by a little child coming against him with a reed
in his hand? Especially when he knew that little child would
surely overthrow him and tread him under foot. Even so,
Lord Jesus ! thus hath thy strength been even made perfect in
weakness ! Go forth then, thou little child that believest in
Him, and his right hand shall teach thee terrible things.
Though thou art helpless and weak as an infant of days, the strong
man shall not be able to stand before thee. Thou shalt prevail
over him, and subdue him, and overthrow him, and trample him
under thy feet. Thou shalt march on with the great Captain
of thy salvation, conquering and to conquer, until all thine
enemies are destroyed, and death is swallowed up in victory."
The next specimen that I will give of John Wesley's preach
ing is the conclusion ofhis sermon on justification by faith. It
ends with the following striking paragraph. The text is
Romans iv. 5 : —
" Thou ungodly one who hearest or readest these words, thou
vile, helpless, miserable sinner, I charge thee before God, the
judge of all, go straight unto Jesus with all thy ungodliness.
Take heed thou destroy not thine own soul by pleading thy
righteousness more or less. Go as altogether ungodly, guilty,
lost, destroyed, deserving and dropping into hell ; and thus shalt
thou find favour in his sight, and know that he justifieth the un
godly. As such thou shalt be brought unto the blood of sprink
ling, as an undone, helpless, damned sinner. Thus look unto
Jesus ! There is the Lamb of God, who taketh away thy sins !
Plead thou no works, no righteousness of thine own ! no humi
lity, contrition, sincerity. In no wise. That were, in very
deed, to deny the Lord that bought thee. No ! Plead thou
singly the blood of the covenant, the ransom paid for thy proud,
stubborn, sinful soul. Who art thou that now seest and feelest
both thine inward and outward ungodliness ? Thou art the
man ! I want thee for my Lord. I challenge thee for a child
of God by faith. The Lord hath need of thee. Thou who

94 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS PREACHED
feelest thou art just fit for hell art just fit to advance his glory,
the glory of free grace, justifying the ungodly and him that
worketh not. Oh, come quickly ! Believe in the Lord Jesus ;
and thou, even thou, art reconciled to God. "
The last example of John Wesley's preaching that I will
bring before the reader, is a portion of a sermon preached by
him at St. Mary's, Oxford, before the University, in 1744. The
text is Acts iv. 31, and the title of the sermon is "Scriptural
Christianity." After asking the question, "Where does Scrip
tural Christianity exist?" he proceeds to address his hearers in
the following manner. — These hearers, we must remember, were
the University of Oxford, Heads of Houses, Professors, Fellows,
Tutors, and other residents : —
" I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of God, if ye do
account me a madman or a fool, yet as a fool bear with me.
It is utterly needful that some one should use great plainness
of speech towards you. It is more especially needful at this
time ; for who knoweth but it may be the last. Who knoweth
how soon the righteous Judge may say : ' I will no more be
entreated for this people. Though Noah, Daniel, and Job were
in this land, they should but deliver their own souls.' And who
will use this plainness if I do not ? Therefore I, even I, will
speak. And I adjure you, by the living God, that ye steel not
your hearts against receiving a blessing at my hands. Do not
say in your hearts, ' non persuadebis etiamsi persuaseris ;' or, in
other words, ' Lord, thou shalt not send by whom thou wilt send.
Let me rather perish in my blood than be saved by this man. '
" Brethren, I am persuaded better things of you, though I
thus speak. Let me ask you then, in tender love, and in the
spirit of meekness, is this city of Oxford a Christian city ? Is
Christianity, Scriptural Christianity, found here ? Are we, as a
community of men, so filled with the Holy Ghost as to enjoy in
our hearts, and show forth in our lives, the genuine fruits of the
Spirit? Are all the magistrates, all heads and governors of

BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 95
colleges and halls, and their respective societies (not to speak
of inhabitants ofthe town), of one heart and one soul? Is the
love of God shed abroad in our hearts ? Are our tempers the
same that were in Him ? Are our lives agreeable thereto ?
Are we holy, as He who hath called us is holy, in all manner
of conversation ?
" In the fear, and in the presence of the great God before
whom both you and I shall shortly appear, I pray you that are
in authority over us (whom I reverence for your office'" sake), to
consider not after the manner of dissemblers with God, Are you
filled with the Holy Ghost ? Are you lively portraitures of him
whom ye are appointed to represent among men ? T have said,
ye are gods, ye magistrates and rulers ; ye are by office so nearly
allied to the God of heaven. In your several stations and
degrees ye are to show forth to us the Lord our Governor.
Are all the thoughts of your hearts, all your tempers and desires,
suitable to your high calling ? Are all your words like unto those
which come out of the mouth of God ? Is there in all your
actions dignity and love, a greatness which words cannot ex
press, which can flow only from a heart full of God, and yet
consistent with the character of man that is a worm, and the
son of man that is a worm ?
" Ye venerable men, who are more especially called to form
the tender minds of youth, to dispel therein the shades of ignor
ance and error, and train them up to be heirs unto salvation,
are you filled with the Holy Ghost, and with those fruits of the
Spirit which your important office so indispensably requires ?
Is your heart whole with God, and full of love and zeal to set
up his kingdom on earth ? Do you continually remind those
under your care that the one rational end of all our studies is to
know, love, and serve the only true God and Jesus Christ whom
he hath sent? Do you inculcate upon them day by day that
love alone never faileth, and that without love all learning is but
splendid ignorance, pompous folly, vexation of spirit ? Has all

96 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS PREACHED
you teach an actual tendency to the love of God, and of all
mankind for his sake ? Plave you an eye to this end, in what
ever you prescribe, touching the kind, manner, and measure of
their studies, desiring and labouring that wherever the lot of
these young soldiers of Christ is cast, they may be so many
burning and shining lights, adorning the gospel of Christ in all
things? And, permit me to ask, do you put forth all your
strength in the vast work you have undertaken ? Do you
labour herein with all your might, exerting every faculty of
your souls, using every talent which God hath lent you, and that
to the uttermost of your power ?
" Let it not be said that I speak here as if all under your care
were intended to be clergymen. Not so ; I only speak as if
they were all intended to be Christians. But what example is
set them by us who enjoy the beneficence of our forefathers,
by fellows, students, scholars, more especially those who are of
some rank and eminence ? Do ye, brethren, abound in the
fruits of the Spirit, in lowliness of mind, in self-denial and
mortification, in tenderness and composure of spirit, in patience,
meekness, sobriety, temperance, and in unwearied, restless en
deavours to do good unto all men, to relieve their outward
wants and to bring their souls to the true knowledge and love
of God ? Is this the general character of Fellows of colleges ?
I fear it is not. Rather, have not pride and haughtiness of
spirit, impatience and peevishness, sloth and indolency, glut
tony and sensuality, and even a proverbial uselessness, been
objected to us, perhaps not always by our enemies nor wholly
without ground ? Oh ! that God would roll away this reproach
from us, that the very memory of it might perish for ever !
" Many of us are men immediately consecrated to God, called
to minister in holy things. Are we, then, patterns to the rest,
in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity?
Is there written on our foreheads and on our hearts, Holiness
to the Lord ? From what motive did we enter upon the office ?

BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 97
Was it indeed with a single eye to serve God, trusting that we
were inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon us this
ministration for the promotion of his glory, and the edifying of
his people ? And have Ave clearly determined, by God's grace,
to give ourselves wholly to this office ? Do we forsake and
set aside, as much as in us lies, all worldly cares and studies ?
Do we apply ourselves wholly to this one thing, and draw all
our cares and studies this way ? Are we apt to teach ? Are
we taught of God, that we may be able to teach others also ?
Do we know God ? Do we know Jesus Christ ? Hath God
revealed his Son in us ? And hath he made us able ministers
of the new covenant ? Where, then, are the seals of our
apostleship ? Who that were dead in trespasses and sins, have
been quickened by our word ? Have we a burning zeal to save
souls from death, so that for their sakes we often forget even to
eat our bread ? Do we speak plainly, by manifestation of the
truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience? Are
we dead to the world, and the things of the world, laying up all
our treasure in heaven ? Do we lord it over God's heritage, or
are we the least, the servants of all ? When we bear the re
proach of Christ does it sit heavy on us, or do we rejoice
therein ? When we are smitten on the one cheek, do we resent
it ? Are we impatient of affronts ? or do we turn the other
cheek also, not resisting evil, but overcoming evil with good ?
Have we a bitter zeal, inciting us to strive sharply and passion
ately with them that are out of the way ? or, is our zeal the flame
of love, so as to direct all our words with sweetness, lowliness,
and meekness of wisdom ?
" Once more, what shall we say concerning the youth of this
place ? — Have you either the form or the power of Christian
godliness ? Are you humble, teachable, advisable ; or stubborn,
self-willed, heady, and high-minded ? Are you obedient to your
superiors as to parents, or do you despise those to whom ye
owe the tenderest reverence ? Are you diligent in your every
(105) 7

98 EXTRACTS FROM SERMONS PREACHED
business, pursuing your studies with all your strength ? Do you
redeem the time, crowding as much work into every day as it
can contain ? Rather are ye not conscious to yourselves that
you waste away day after day, either in reading what has no
tendency to Christianity, or in gambling, or in— you know not
what? Are you better managers of your fortune than of your
time? Do you, out of principle, take care to owe no man any
thing? Do you remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy, to
spend it in the more immediate worship of God ! When you
are in his house, do you consider God is there ? do you behave
as seeing him that is invisible ? Do you know how to possess
your bodies in sanctification and honour? Are not drunken
ness and uncleanness found among you? Yea, are there not a
multitude of you who glory in their shame ? Do not many of
you take the name of God in vain, perhaps habitually, with
out either remorse or fear ? Yea, are there not a multitude
among you that are forsworn ? I fear a swiftly-increasing
multitude ? Be not surprised, brethren. Before God and this
congregation I own myself to have been of this number,
solemnly swearing to observe all those customs which I then
knew nothing of, and those statutes which I did not so much
as read over, either then or for some years after. What is per
jury if this is not ? But if it be, oh, what a weight of sin, yea,
sin of no common dye, lieth upon us ! And doth not the Most
High regard it ?
" May it not be one ofthe consequences of this that so many
of you are a generation of triflers, triflers with God, with one
another, and with your own souls? For how few of you spend,
from one week to another, a single hour in private prayer?
How few of you have any thought of God in the general tenor
of your conversation ? Who of you is in any degree acquainted
with the work of his Spirit, his supernatural work in the souls of
men ? Can you hear, unless now and then in a church, any
talk of the Holy Spirit ? Would you not take it for granted, if

BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 99
one began such a conversation, that it was either hypocrisy or
enthusiasm ? In the name of the Lord God Almighty, I ask
what religion are you of? Even the talk of Christianity, ye can
not, will not bear. Oh, my brethren, what a Christian city is
this ! It is time for thee, Lord, to lay to thine hand.
"For, indeed, what probability — what possibility rather,
speaking after the manner of men — is there that Christianity,
Scriptural Christianity, should be again the religion of this place,
and that all orders of men among us should speak and live as
men filled with the Holy Spirit ? By whom should this Chris
tianity be restored ? By those of you that are in authority ?
Are you convinced, then, that this is Scriptural Christianity ?
Are you desirous it should be restored ? Do you count your
fortune, liberty, life, not dear unto yourselves so you may be
instrumental in restoring of it? But suppose you have the
desire, who hath any power proportioned to effect ? Perhaps
some of you have made a few vain attempts, but with how small
success ! Shall Christianity, then, be restored by young, un
known, inconsiderable men ? I know not whether ye yourselves
would suffer it. Would not some of you cry out, 'Young man,
in so doing thou reproachest us!' But there is no danger of
your being put to the proof; so hath iniquity overspread us
like a flood. Whom then shall God send ? The famine, the
pestilence (God's last messengers to a guilty land), or the sword?
the armies of Romish aliens to reform us into our first love ?
Nay, rather let us fall into thy hand, O Lord; and let us not
fall into the hand of man.
" Lord, save, or we perish ! Take us out of the mire, that
we sink not ! Oh, help us against these enemies, for vain is the
help of man. Unto thee all things are possible. According .to
the greatness of thy power, preserve thou those that are ap
pointed to die, and preserve us in the manner that seemeth to
thee good ; not as we will, but as thou wilt."
The reader will probably agree with me that this is a re-

ioo WESLEY'S RULES FOR THE
markable sermon, and one of a class that is not frequently
heard in University pulpits. What was thought of it in 1744
by the Vice-chancellor, the Heads of Houses, and the Fellows
and Tutors of Colleges, we have little means of knowing. In
his journal, Wesley only remarks : " I preached this day for the
last time, I suppose, at St. Mary's. Be it so. I am now clear
of the blood of these men. I have fully delivered my own soul.
The beadle came to me afterwards, and told me, ' that the Vice-
chancellor had sent him for my notes.' I sent them without
delay, not without admiring the wise providence of God. Per
haps few men of note would have given a sermon of mine the
reading, if I had put it in their hands. But by this reason it
came to be read, probably more than once, by every man of
eminence in the University." Many, perhaps, will agree with
me that, if Oxford had heard more of such plain preaching
during the last one hundred and twenty years, it would have
been well for the Church of England.
Turning away from Wesley's preaching, I will now give a
specimen of his mind of a very different description. I will
give the twelve rules which he laid down for the guidance ofhis
helpers in evangelistic work in the Methodist communion. They
'serve to illustrate, I think, in a very striking manner, the great
shrewdness and good sense of the man, and are also good
examples of his terse, pithy style of composition. He says to
his helpers :—
" 1. Be diligent. Never be unemployed for a moment; never
be triflingly employed. Never while away time ; neither spend
any more time at any place than is strictly necessary.
" 2. Be serious. Let your motto be, Holiness to the Lord.
Avoid all lightness, jesting, and foolish talking.
"3. Converse sparingly and cautiously with women, particu
larly with young women in private.
"4. Take no step towards marriage without first acquainting
me with your design.

GUIDANCE OF HIS HELPERS. 101
" 5. Believe evil of no one ; unless you see it done, take heed
how you credit it. Put the best construction on everything :
you know the judge is always supposed to be on the prisoner's
side. " 6. Speak evil of no one ; else your words especially would
eat as doth a canker. Keep your thoughts within your own
breast till you come to the person concerned.
" 7. Tell every one what you think wrong in him, and that
plainly, and as soon as may be, else it will fester in your heart.
Make all haste to cast the fire out of your bosom.
" 8. Do not affect the gentleman. You have no more to do
with this character than with that of a dancing-master. A
preacher of the gospel is the servant of all.
" 9. Be ashamed of nothing but sin ; not of fetching wood
(if time permit), or of drawing water ; not of cleaning your own
shoes, or your neighbour's.
" 10. Be punctual. Do everything exactly at the time ; and,
in general, do not mend our rules, but keep them ; not for
wrath, but for conscience' sake.
" n. You have nothing to do but to save souls. Therefore
spend and be spent in this work. And go always not to those
who want you, but to those who want you most.
" 12. Act in all things, not according to your own will, but
as a son in the gospel. As such, it is your part to employ your
time in the manner which we direct, partly in preaching and
visiting the flock from house to house ; partly in reading, medi
tation, and prayer. Above all, if you labour with us in the
Lord's vineyard, it is needful that you should do that part of
the work which we advise, at those times and places which we
judge most for his glory."
Comment on these rules is needless. They speak for them
selves. Though originally drawn up with a special view to the
wants of the Methodist helpers, they contain wisdom for all
bodies of Christians. Happy would it be for all the churches

102 ADVICE TO PREACHERS.
of Christ, if all the ministers of the gospel would carry out the
spirit of these rules, and remember their wise suggestions far
more than they do.
Let us next take an illustration of the manner in which he
used to advise his preachers individually. To one who was in
danger of becoming a noisy, clamorous preacher, he writes : —
" Scream no more at peril of your soul. God now warns
you by me, whom he has set over you. Speak as earnestly as
you can, but do not scream. Speak with all your heart, but
with a moderate voice. It was said of our Lord, ' He shall not
cry' The word means properly, he shall not scream. Herein
be a follower of me, as I am of Christ. I often speak loud,
often vehemently; but I never scream ; I never strain myself;
I dare not ; I know it would be a sin against God and my own
soul." To one who neglected the duty of private reading and
regular study, he wrote as follows : —
" Hence your talent in preaching does not increase ; it is just
the same as it was seven years ago. It is lively, but not deep ;
there is little variety ; there is no compass of thought. Read
ing only can supply this, with daily meditation and daily prayer.
You wrong yourself greatly by omitting this ; you never can be
a deep preacher without it, any more than a thorough Christian.
Oh begin ! Fix some part of every day for private exercises.
You may acquire the taste which you have not ; what is tedious
at first will afterwards be pleasant. Whether you like it or not,
read and pray daily. It is for your life ! There is no other
way ; else you will be a trifler all your days, and a pretty super
ficial preacher. Do justice to your own soul ; give it time and
means to grow : do not starve yourself any longer."
The last specimen of John Wesley's mind that I will give,
is an extract from a letter which he wrote to the Bishop of
Lincoln, by way of public protest, on account of the disgraceful
persecution which some intolerant magistrates carried on

LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF LINCOLN. 103
against the Lincolnshire Methodists. It is an interesting letter,
not only on account of the holy boldness of its style, but also
on account ofthe age ofthe writer. He says: —
" My Lord, I am a dying man, having already one foot in
the grave. Humanly speaking, I cannot long creep upon the
earth, being now nearer ninety than eighty years of age. But
I cannot die in peace before I have discharged this office of
Christian love to your Lordship. I write without ceremony, as
neither hoping nor fearing anything from your Lordship or from
any man living. And I ask, in the name and in the presence
of Him, to whom both you and I are shortly to give an account,
why do you trouble those that are quiet in the land, those that
fear God and work righteousness? ^Does your Lordship know
what the Methodists are — that many thousands of them are
zealous members of the Church of England, and strongly
attached, not only to His Majesty, but to his present ministry ?
Why should your Lordship, setting religion out of the question,
throw away such a body of respectable friends ? Is it for their
religious sentiments ? Alas, my Lord, is this a time to perse
cute any man for conscience' sake ? I beseech you, my Lord,
do as you would be done to. You are a man of sense; you
are a man of learning ; nay, I verily believe (what is of infinitely
more value), you are a man of piety. Then think, and let
think. I pray God to bless you with the choicest of his bless
ings." With this letter I conclude my illustrations of John Wesley's
mind and its working. It would be easy to add to the extracts
I have given from the large stock of materials which are still
within reach of all who choose to look for them. But there is
such a thing as overloading a subject, and injuring it by over-
quotation. I believe I have said enough to supply my readers
with the means of forming a judgment of John Wesley's mental
calibre. Has any one been accustomed to regard the father of

104 ESTIMATE OF WESLEY'S MERITS.
Methodism as a mere fanatic, as a man of moderate abilities
and superficial education, as a successful popular preacher and
leader of an ignorant sect, but nothing more ? I ask such an
one to examine carefully the specimens I have given of Wesley's
mind, and to reconsider his opinion. Whether men like
Methodist doctrine or not, I think they must honestly concede
that the old Fellow of Lincoln was a scholar and a sensible
man. The world, which always sneers at evangelical religion,
may please itself by saying that the men who shook England a
hundred years ago were weak-minded, hot-headed enthusiasts,
and unlearned and ignorant men. The Jews said the same of
the apostles in early days. But the world cannot get over facts.
The founder of Methodism was a man of no mean reputation
in Oxford, and his writings show him to have been a well-read,
logical-minded, and intelligent man. Let the children of this
world deny this if they can.
Finally, has any one been accustomed to regard Wesley with
dislike on account of his Arminian opinions ? Is any one in
the habit of turning away from his name with prejudice, and re
fusing to believe that such an imperfect preacher of the gospel
could do any good? I ask such an one to remould his opinion,
to take a more kindly view of the old soldier of the cross, and
to give him the honour he deserves.
What though John Wesley did not use all the weapons of
truth which our great Captain has provided ? What though he
often said things which you and I feel we could not say, and
left unsaid things which we feel ought to be said ? Still, not
withstanding this, he was a bold fighter on Christ's side, a fear
less warrior against sin, the world, and the devil, and an
unflinching adherent of the Lord Jesus Christ in a very dark
day. He honoured the Bible. He cried down sin. He made
much of Christ's blood. He exalted holiness. He taught the
absolute need of repentance, faith, and conversion. Surely
these things ought not to be forgotten. Surely there is a deep

AN INSTRUMENT FOR GOOD. 105
lesson in those words of our Master, " Forbid him not : for
there is no man which shall do a miracle in my name, that can
lightly speak evil of me. For he that is not against us is on
our part " (Mark ix. 39, 40).
Then let us thank God for what John Wesley was, and not
keep poring over his deficiencies, and only talking of what he
was not. Whether we like it or not, John Wesley was a mighty
instrument in God's hand for good ; and, next to George White-
field, was the first and foremost evangelist of England a hundred
years ago.

V.
t&UHiam (Srimsljato oi Jjntoorilj, anir Ijis ||lrnisiry.

CHAPTER I.
Lorn at Erindlc, 1708 — Educated at Christ's College, Cambridge — Ordained, 1731 — Curate
of Rochdale andTodmorden — Death of his Wife — Minister of Haworth, 1742 — Descrip
tion of Haworth — Style ofhis Ministry — His Manner of Life, Diligence, Charity, Love
of Peace, Humility — His Ministerial Success.

|HE third spiritual hero of the last century whom I wish
to introduce to my readers, is one who is very little
known. The man I mean is William Grimshaw,
Perpetual Curate of Haworth, in Yorkshire.
Thousands, I can well believe, are familiar with the history
of Whitefield and Wesley, who have not so much as heard of
Grimshaw's name. Yet he was a mighty man of God, of whom
the Church and the world were not worthy. If greatness is to
be measured by usefulness to souls, I believe there were not in
England a hundred years ago three greater men than William
Grimshaw. The reasons why this good man is so little known are soon
explained. For one thing, Grimshaw never withdrew from his position
as a beneficed clergyman of the Church of England. He lived
and died incumbent of a Yorkshire parochial district. He
founded no new sect, and drew up no new articles of faith. He
found as much liberty as he wanted within the pale of a bene-

GRIMSHAW'S FIELD OF LABOUR. 107
ficed clergyman's position, and with that liberty he was content.
Such a man, in the very nature of things, will rarely emerge
from comparative obscurity. No zealous partisan will chronicle
his actions and movements. No persecuted followers will pub
lish accounts of his life and opinions. The man who remains
in the ranks, or behind the intrenchments, will never be so con
spicuous as he who carries on a guerilla warfare single-handed,
or stands forth outside on the plain.*
For another thing, Grimshaw never went to London, or
opened his mouth so much as once in a London pulpit. He
moved in a purely provincial orbit, in days when railways, tele
graphs, and penny postage were not even dreamed of. Within
that orbit, no doubt, he was a star of the first magnitude ; but
beyond it he was never heard or seen. We need not wonder
that he was little known in his day and generation. The minister
who never preaches in London, and writes nothing, must not
be surprised if the world knows nothing of him. Like some of
the judges of Israel, he may be great in his own district, but
some of the tribes will scarcely be acquainted with his name.
After all, the being famous is a thing that depends greatly on
position and opportunity. It is not enough to possess gifts
and powers : there must also be the means of exhibiting them.
For want of opportunity some of the greatest men perhaps are
buried in obscurity. There may be great physicians who could
never find a practice, great lawyers who could never get a brief,
and great soldiers who never had a chance of distinguishing
themselves. The main reason why the Church has done so
little honour to Grimshaw's name may be, that it had so little
opportunity of knowing him.
William Grimshaw was born at Brindle, in Lancashire, on the
* It ought to be remembered that neither Wesley nor Whitefield ever held a living in the
Church of England. It is, therefore, not correct to speak of them as men who seceded from
the Church. They resigned no living or official position, simply because they had none to
resign. They were practically excluded from the pulpits of the Establishment, because the
clergy as a body refused to admit them. But they never formally separated themselves
from the communion in which they had been ordained.

i°S HIS ORDINATION.
3rd of September 1708. Brindle is an agricultural parish, con
taining at present about thirteen hundred people, and lies not
far from the three manufacturing towns of Preston, Chorley,
and Blackburn. Nothing whatever is known of the rank and
position of his parents. Who his mother was, whether he had
any brothers and sisters, what was his father's occupation and
employment, are all points which are now veiled in complete
obscurity. Beyond the fact that one of the churchwardens of
Brindle in 1728 was a certain William Grimshaw, nothing has
ever been ascertained.*
About Grimshaw's early life and education I can tell my
readers almost nothing. That he went to the Grammar Schools
of Blackburn and Hesketh, was admitted to Christ's College,
Cambridge, at the age of eighteen, and in due course of time
took his degree as Bachelor of Arts, are the only facts that I
can collect about the first twenty-one years of his life. But his
character as a boy and young man, and his conduct at school
and college, are matters about which I cannot supply the slight
est information, because none exists. There are, however, no
grounds for supposing that he spent his time at all better than
other young men of his day, or that he evinced any concern
about religion.
In the year 1731 Grimshaw was ordained deacon, and entered
holy orders as curate of Rochdale. He seems to have taken
on him this solemn office without any spiritual feeling, and in
utter ignorance of the duties of a minister of Christ's gospel.
Like too many young clergymen, he appears to have been
ordained without knowing anything aright either about his own
soul, or about the way to do good to the souls of others. In
fact, in after-life he deeply lamented that he sought ordination
from the lowest and most unworthy of motives — the desire to
* I think it right to say, that almost the only accessible source of information about
Grimshaw is a biography of him lately published by Mr. Spence Hardy. It is an interesting
volume, and well worth reading, though the author's predilections in favour of Methodism
are rather too manifest.

BECOMES CURATE OF TODMORDEN. 109
be in a respectable profession, and, if possible, to get a good
living. Grimshaw's stay at Rochdale, for some reason which we can
not now explain, was a very short one. In September 1731,
the very year that he was ordained, he became curate of Tod
morden, and left Rochdale entirely. Todmorden lies in a
romantic valley between Rochdale and Leeds, well known to
all who travel by the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway. Before
the steam-engine was invented, it must have been a singularly
beautiful place. Ecclesiastically, it is a chapelry in the patron
age of the Vicar of Rochdale, and stands partly in the great
parish of Rochdale and partly in the equally large parish of
Halifax. Here Grimshaw continued for no less than eleven
years. The eleven years during which Grimshaw resided at Tod
morden were, beyond doubt, the turning-point in his spiritual
history. It is much to be regretted that we possess nothing but
the most scanty information about this period of his life.
Enough, however, exists to throw some light on the way
through which he was led to become the man of God that he
was in after-days.
It appears then, according to Middleton, one of his bio
graphers, that about the year 1734, three years after he came
to Todmorden, Grimshaw began for the first time to feel deep
concern about his own soul, and the souls of his parishioners.
A change came over his life and outward behaviour. He laid
aside the diversions in which he had hitherto spent- the greater
part of his time — such as hunting, fishing, card-playing, revel
ling, and merry-making — and began to visit his people, and
press on them the importance of religion, like one who really
believed it. At the same time he commenced the practice of
praying in secret four times a-day, a practice which there is
reason to believe he never left off.
There is nothing to show that his views of Christianity at

1 1 0 BE A TH OF HIS WIFE.
this period were any but the most dark and obscure. Of the
distinctive doctrines of the gospel, of salvation by grace, justifi
cation by faith, free pardon through Christ's blood, and the
converting power of the Holy Ghost, he probably knew nothing
at all. He had none but books of a very legal character, most
of them given by Dr. Dunster, Vicar of Rochdale, when he was
his curate. He had no friend to deal with him, as Peter did
with Cornelius, or Aquila and Priscilla did with Apollos, and
" show him the way of God more perfectly." But he was
honest in seeking light, and light came, though not immediately.
He prayed much, like Saul in the house of Judas at Damascus,
and after many days his prayer was heard. He used such
means as he had, and in so using means God met him and
helped him. He had a sincere desire to do God's will, and the
promise of the Lord Jesus was verified, " He shall know of the
doctrine whether it be of God" (John vii. 17).
The struggle between lighf'and darkness -in Grimshaw's mind
appears to have continued several years-f ' 'Long as this delay
may seem to us, we must not forget that he was entirely without
help from man, ahd fia-dL' to weak out every spiritual problem
unassisted and alone. Cut though the work within him went
on slowly, it went on solidly and surely. The illness and death
of his first wife, leaving him a desolate widower with two chil
dren, after four years of married life, appears to have been a
powerful means of drawing him nearer to God. The perusal
of two most valuable Puritan books, "Brooks' Precious Remedies
against Satan's Devices," and " Owen on Justification," seems
to have been extremely helpful and establishing to his soul.
And the final result was, that after several years of severe con
flict, Grimshaw no longer " walked in darkness, but had the
full light of life-' (John viii. 12). The scales completely fell
from his eyes. He saw and knew the whole truth, and the
truth made him free. He left Todmorden a far wiser and hap
pier man than he entered it. Hard as the schooling was, he

THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND. 1 1 1
there learned lessons which he never forgot to his life's end.
Few men, perhaps, have ever so thoroughly verified the truth of
Luther's saying, " Prayer and temptation, the Bible and medi
tation, make a true minister of the gospel."
Grimshaw's testimony to the power of the Scriptures at this
crisis in his spiritual history, is very striking and instructive.
Like many others, he found the Bible almost a new book to
his mind. Up to this time he had known it only in the letter,
but now he became acquainted with it in its spiritual power.
He afterwards told a friend that " if God had drawn up his
Bible to heaven, and sent him down another, it could not
have been newer to him." So true is it that when man be
comes a new creature " old things pass away and all things
become new."
Grimshaw's people at Todmorden soon found that a change
had come over their minister's 'mind. ^ In the middle of his
'.r -' ->-^s . <¦
spiritual conflict, anO befbri* he-- had foond\peace, it is related
' 4 1 ^k. * ' ^
that a poor woman came =tQ-:hjm in great 'distress of soul, and
asked him what she\n?ust/do. He could onj'y say, " I cannot
\v ¦' ''- 'iii *•-'' "••' 'A
tell what to say to you, Susan, TOr I ia*h in' flie same state my
self; but to despair of the mercy-of- God would be worse than
all." Another woman, named Mary Scholefield, of Calf Lees,
had sought his advice in the beginning of his ministry, and got
the following answer: "Put away these gloomy thoughts. Go
into merry company. Divert yourself; and all will be well at
last." At a later period he went to her house and said, " O
Mary, what a blind leader of the blind was I, when I came to
take off thy burden by exhorting thee to live in pleasure, and
to follow the vain amusements of the world !" Incidents like
these, we may be sure, would soon be known throughout Tod
morden. True conversion, like the presence of Christ, is a
thing that cannot be hid.
It would indeed be interesting if we had any authentic
records of Grimshaw's history during these momentous eleven

112 A PPOINTED MINIS TER OF HA WOR Til.
years at Todmorden. But God has thought fit to withhold
them from us. It is certainly very curious that without the
least concert with the other great evangelists who were his
contemporaries, he should have arrived at the same doctrinal
conclusions and taken up the same line of action. But it is
an established fact, and well ascertained, that all the time he
was at Todmorden he was an entire stranger to Whitefield and
Wesley, and never read a line of their writings. It is no less
curious to observe how God was pleased to wean him from the
love of worldly things, by taking away his beloved wife, whose
loss he seems to have felt most keenly. But the well-instructed
Christian will see in all this part of his history the hand of
perfect wisdom. The tools that the great Architect intends to
use much, are often kept long in the fire, to temper them and
fit them for work. The discipline that Grimshaw went through
at Todmorden was doubtless very severe. But the lessons he
learned under it could probably have been learned in no other
school. In the month of May 1742, Grimshaw was appointed
minister of Haworth in Yorkshire, and remained there twenty-
one years, until his death. How and by what interest he got
the appointment, we do not know. At the present time,
the patronage is in the hands of the Vicar of Bradford and
certain trustees. It is not unlikely that his first wife's family
had something to do with it.* Haworth is a chapelry iii the
parish of Bradford, and about four miles from the town of
Keighley. It stands in a cold, desolate, bleak moorland
country, on the hills which divide Yorkshire from Lancashire,
and, running down from the Lake district to the peak of
Derbyshire, form the " backbone " of England. None but
those who have travelled from Manchester to Leeds by the
Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, or from Manchester to
* Haworth is best known at present as the birth-place and residence of the unhappy
Charlotte Bronte, whose father was incumbent of the place.

DESCRIPTION OF II A WOR TH. 1 1 3
Huddersfield by the London and North-Western, or from
Manchester to Sheffield by the Great Northern line, can have
any adequate idea of the rugged, weather-beaten, mountainous
character of this district. Its valleys are beautiful, highly
cultivated, and teeming with life and manufacturing activity.
But the upper parts of the country are often as wild, and steep,
and uncultivated, and unapproachable, as a Highland moor.
At the top of one of the roughest parts of the mountain dis
trict lies the village of Plaworth, the principal scene of Grim
shaw's ministerial labour.
Haworth a hundred years ago was perhaps as rough and un
civilized a place as a minister could go to. Even Doomsday-
Book specially describes it as " desolate and waste." It is a
long narrow village, built of brown stone, approached by a
steep ascent from Keighley or Hebden bridge. The street is
so steep that one can understand it must have been only
recently that wheeled carriages went there. Indeed, there is a
legend that when the first carriage came to Haworth the
villagers brought out hay to feed it, under the idea that it was
an animal ! Such was the parish in which Grimshaw set up
the standard of the cross. A less promising field can hardly
be imagined.
Grimshaw began his work at Haworth after a manner very
different from his beginning at Todmorden. He commenced
preaching to his wild and rough parishioners the gospel of
Christ in the plainest and most familiar manner, and followed
up his preaching by house to house visitation. His preaching
was not confined to the walls of the church. Wherever he
could get people together, whether in a room, a barn, a field, a
quarry, or by the roadside, he was ready to preach. His visit
ing was not a mere going from family to family to gossip about
temporal matters, sickness, and children. Wherever he went
he took his Master with him, and spoke plainly to people about
their souls. In this kind of work his whole life was spent at
(iuo) 8

1 1 4 GRIMSHA W'S MODE OF A CTION.
Haworth. Preaching publicly and privately repentance to
ward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ, after the
manner of St. Paul, was his one employment throughout the
whole twenty-one years of his ministry. He himself describes
his mode of action in the following letter : —
" The method which I, the least and most unworthy of my
Lord's ministers, take in my parish, is this: I preach the gospel
— glad tidings of salvation to penitent sinners through faith in
Christ's blood only — twice every Sunday the year round, save
when I expound the Church Catechism and thirty-nine articles,
or read the Homilies, which in substance I think my duty to
do in some part of the year annually, on the Lord's day morn
ings. I have found this practice, I bless God, of inexpressible
benefit to my congregation, which consists, especially in the
summer season, of perhaps ten or twelve hundred souls, or, as
some think, many more. We have also prayer, and a chapter
expounded every Lord's Day evening. I visit my parish in
twelve several places monthly, convening six, eight, or ten
families in each place, allowing any people of the neighbouring
parishes that please to attend the exhortation. This I call my
monthly visitation. I am now entering into the fifth year of it,
and wonderfully has the Lord blessed it. The only thing more
are our funeral expositions and exhortations, and visiting our
societies in one or other of the three last days of the month.
This I purpose, through the grace of God, to make my con
stant business in my parish so long as I live."
In carrying on this kind of work, Grimshaw gladly availed
himself of every help that he could obtain from like-minded
men. He became acquainted with John Nelson, the famous
Yorkshire stone-mason, one of the most remarkable lay-
preachers whom Wesley sent forth, and frequently received
him at Haworth. He welcomed those few clergymen who
were of one heart with himself, and seized every opportunity of
getting them to preach to his people. Whitefield, the two

EFFECT OF HIS MINIS TR Y. 1 1 5
Wesleys, Romaine, and Venn, were among those whom he
was only too glad to place in his pulpit. On such occasions it
was no uncommon thing to leave the church and preach in
the churchyard, in order to meet the convenience of the
crowds who came together. When the Lord's Supper was
administered at such seasons, it was sometimes necessary for
the first congregation of communicants to retire from the
church and give way to others, until all had partaken of the
ordinance. In one instance, when Whitefield was present, the
numbers who came to the Lord's Table were so great that no
less than thirty-five bottles of wine were used !
The effect produced by this new and fervent style of minis
tration, as might well be expected, was very great indeed. An
interest about religion was aroused throughout the whole dis
trict round Haworth, and multitudes began to think who had
never thought before. Grimshaw himself says, in a letter to
Dr. Gillies, author of the "Historical Collections:" "Souls
were affected by the word, brought to see their lost estate by
nature, and to experience peace through faith in the blood of
Jesus. My church began to be crowded, insomuch that many
were obliged to stand out of doors. Here, as in many places,
it was amazing to see and hear what weeping, roaring, and
agony, many people were seized with, at the apprehension of
their sinful state and wrath of God. After a season I joined
people, such as were truly seeking, or had found the Lord, in
society, for meetings and exercises. These meetings are held
once a week, about two hours, and are called classes, consist
ing of about ten or twelve members each. We have much of
the Lord's presence among them, and greatly in consequence
must such meetings conduce to Christian edification."
The style of preaching which Grimshaw adopted was pecu
liarly well suited to the rough and uneducated population with
which he had to do. He was eminently a plain preacher. His
first aim undoubtedly was to preach the whole truth as it is in

1 1 6 HIS STYLE OF PRE A CHING.
Jesus ; his second was to preach so as to be understood. To
accomplish this end he was willing to make many sacrifices, to
crucify his natural taste as an educated clergyman who had been
at Cambridge, and to be thought a fool by intellectual men.
But he cared nothing so long as he could succeed in reaching
the hearts and consciences of his hearers. John Newton, who
knew him well, has left some remarks on this characteristic of
Grimshaw's preaching which are well worth reading. He says :
" The desire of usefulness to persons of the weakest capacity,
or most destitute ofthe advantages of education, influenced his
phraseology in preaching. Though his abilities as a speaker,
and his fund of general knowledge, rendered him very compe
tent to stand before great men, yet, as his stated hearers were
chiefly of the poorer and more unlettered classes, he con
descended to accommodate himself, in the most familiar man
ner, to their ideas, and to their modes of expression. Like the
apostles, he disdained that elegance and excellence of speech
which is admired by those who seek entertainment perhaps not
less than instruction from the pulpit. He rather chose to deliver
his sentiments in what he used to term ' market language.' And
though the warmth of his heart and the rapidity of his imagina
tion might sometimes lead him to clothe his thoughts in words
which even a candid critic could not justify, yet the general
effect of his plain manner was striking and impressive, suited to
make the dullest understand, and to fix for a time the attention
of the most careless. Frequently a sentence which a delicate
hearer might judge quaint or vulgar, conveyed an important
truth to the ear, and fixed it on the memory for years after the
rest of the sermon and the general subject were forgotten.
Judicious hearers could easily excuse some escapes of this
kind, and allow that, though he had a singular felicity in bring
ing down the great truths of the gospel to a level with the
meanest capacity, he did not degrade them. The solemnity of
his manner, the energy with which he spoke, the spirit of love

HIS EARNESTNESS OF MANNER. 1 1 7
which beamed in his eyes and breathed through his addresses,
were convincing proofs that he did not trifle with his people. I
may give my judgment on this point, something in his own way,
by quoting a plain and homely proverb which says, ' That is
the best cat which catches the most mice. ' His improprieties,
if he was justly chargeable with any, are very easily avoided ;
but few ministers have had equal success. But if his language
was more especially suited to the taste of his unpolished rustic
hearers, his subject-matter was calculated to affect the hearts of
all, whether high or low, rich or poor, learned or ignorant ; and
they who refused to believe were often compelled to tremble. "
The manner in which he conducted public worship at
Haworth seems to have been as remarkable as his preaching.
There was a life, and fire, and reality, and earnestness about it,
which made it seem a totally different thing from what it was in
other churches. The Prayer-Book seemed like a new book ;
and the reading-desk was almost as arresting to the congrega
tion as the pulpit. Middleton, in his life of him, says : " In per
formance of divine service, and especially at the communion, he
was at times like a man with his feet on earth and his soul in
heaven. In prayer, before sermon, he would indeed ' take hold
(as he used to say) of the very horns of the altar,' which, he
added, 'he could not, he would not, let go till God had given
the blessing. ' And his fervency often was such, and attended
with such heartfelt and melting expressions, that scarcely a dry
eye was to be seen in his numerous congregation."
The life which Grimshaw lived appears, by the testimony of
all his contemporaries, to have been as remarkable as his
preaching. In the highest sense he seems to have adorned the
doctrine of the gospel, and to have made it beautiful in the eyes
of all around him. He was not like some of whom the bitter
remark has been made, that when they are in the pulpit it is a
pity they ever get out of it, and when out of it, a pity that they
should ever get in. The same Christ that he preached in the

Ii3 HIS CHARITY AND HUMILITY.
pulpit was the Christ that he endeavoured to follow in his daily
life. He was a man of rare diligence and self-denial. None ever
worked harder than he did in his calling, and few worked so
hard. He seldom preached less than twenty, and often nearly
thirty times in a week. In doing this he would constantly
travel scores of miles, content with the humblest fare and the
roughest accommodation.
He was a man of rare charity and brotherly love. He loved
all who loved Christ, by whatever name they might be called,
and he was kind to every one in temporal as well as spiritual
things. " In fact," says Middleton, " his charity knew no
bound but his circumstances. As his grace and faithfulness
rendered him useful to all, so his benevolent liberality particu
larly endeared him to the poor. He frequently used to say, ' If
I shall die to-day I have not a penny to leave behind me. '
And yet he did not quit the world in debt, for he had prudence
as well as grace. "
He was pre-eminently a peacemaker. " The animosities and
differences of men," says Middleton, " afforded his affectionate
spirit nothing but pain. No labour was too great or too long if
their reconciliation might be his reward. 'When he has met with
cases of uncommon perseverance or obduracy, he has been
known to fall on his knees before them, beseeching them, for
Christ's sake, to love one another, and offering to let them
tread on his neck if they would only be at peace among them
selves." He was, above all, a man of rare humility. Few gifted men,
perhaps, ever thought so meanly of themselves, or were so truly
ready in honour to prefer others. " What have we to boast of?"
he said. " What have we that we have not received ? Freely
by grace we are saved. When I die I shall then have my
greatest grief and my greatest joy, — my greatest grief that I
have done so little for Jesus, and my greatest joy that Jesus has

HIS MINISTERIAL SUCCESS. 1 1 9
done so much for me. My last words shall be, Here goes an
unprofitable servant I"
That such a man as Grimshaw should soon obtain immense
influence in Haworth is nothing more than we might expect.
Preaching as he did and living as he did, we can well under
stand that he produced a mighty impression on his wild parish
ioners. Sin was checked, Sabbath-breaking became unfashion
able, immorality was greatly restrained. Like John the Baptist
in the wilderness, he shook the little corner of Yorkshire where
he was placed, and stirred men's minds to the very bottom.
Hundreds learned to fear hell who did not really love heaven.
Scores were restrained from sin though they were not converted
to God.
But this was not all. There can be no doubt that Grimshaw
was the means of true conversion to many souls. Year after
year the Holy Ghost applied his sermons to the hearts and con
sciences of not a few of his hearers, and added to the true
Church of Christ such as should be saved. In one single year,
after burying eighteen persons, he said that " he had great
reason to believe that sixteen of them were entered into the
kingdom of God. "
"Not long before his death," says one of his biographers,
" he stood with the Rev. John Newton upon a hill near
Haworth surveying the romantic prospect. He then said that
at the time he first came into that part of the country he might
have gone half a day's journey on horseback toward the east,
west, north, and south, without meeting one truly serious person,
or even hearing of one. But now, through the blessing of God
upon his labours, he could tell of several hundreds of persons
who attended his ministry, and were devout' communicants with
him at the Lord's Table ; and of nearly all the last-named he
could say that he was as well acquainted with their several
temptations, trials, and mercies, both personal and domestic, as
if he had lived in their families."

BECOMES AN EVANGELIST.

The extra-parochial labours which Grimshaw undertook, and
the persecutions which they entailed upon him, his early death,
and some account ofhis few literary remains, are subjects of so
much interest that I must defer them to another chapter.

CHAPTER II.
Extra-Parochial Labour in Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire — The Nature of this
Labour Explained and Defended — Persecution at Colne — The Archbishop of York's
Visit to Haworth — His Love to the Articles and Homilies — His Last Illness, Dying
Sayings, Death, and Funeral.
The religious condition of England a hundred years ago was
so deplorably bad, that a man like Grimshaw was not likely to
confine his labours to his own parish. Led by the force
of circumstances, he soon began to preach outside his pa
rochial boundaries, and finally " did the work of an evan
gelist " throughout the whole region within fifty miles of
Haworth. The circumstances which led Grimshaw into this course of
action are soon explained. Hundreds of his regular hearers at
Haworth were not his parishioners, and came together from
distant places. Once taught of God to know the value of the
gospel, they went out of their own parishes to get the spiritual
food which they could not find at home. It was only natural
that these people should feel for their families and neighbours,
and desire that they might hear what had done good to them
selves. They asked Grimshaw to come and preach at their
houses, and represented to him the ignorance and spiritual
destitution of all around their own homes. They entreated him
to come and tell their friends and relatives the same things he
was every week telling his congregation at Haworth. They
told him that souls were perishing for lack of knowledge, un-
shepherded, uncared for, and untaught, and promised him a
hearty welcome if he would " come over" his parish boundaries

VISITS THE ADJACENT COUNTRY. 121
and "help" them. Appeals like these, we can well believe,
were not made in vain. In a short time these extra-parochial
labours became a regular and systematic business. The voice
of the incumbent of Haworth was soon heard in many other
places beside his parish-church, and for many years he was
known throughout Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cheshire, and North
Derbyshire, as the apostle and preacher of the district.
It would be interesting to name all the places which Grim
shaw was in the habit of visiting as an evangelist, but it is
impossible to do so. No accurate record remains ofthe extent
of his labours, and he left no journal behind him. It is known,
however, that in Yorkshire he used to preach at Leeds, Halifax,
Bradford, Manningham, Todmorden, Birstal, Keighley, Otley,
Bingley, Bramley, Heptonstall, Luddenden, and Osmotherley.
In Lancashire, he used to visit Manchester, Bolton, Rochdale,
Colne, Padiham, Holme, Bacop, and Rossendale. In Cheshire,
we find him at Stockport, Tarvin, and Rostherne ; and in Derby
shire at Mellor. These places are probably not a tenth part of
those he visited, but they are places specially mentioned by his
biographers. In all these places the people who valued such preaching as
Grimshaw's were banded together in societies, and generally
under the direction of one man. The incumbent of a large
parish like Haworth, of course, could only leave his own work
for a short time, and visit distant preaching-stations at long
intervals. Between his visits, the societies were necessarily left
very much to themselves and their local leaders. Conference
with these leaders, receiving reports from them of the spiritual
condition of the societies, and arranging with them for break
ing up new ground as well as keeping old ground in cultivation,
made no small part of Grimshaw's extra-parochial work. To
these leaders of societies was left the provision of rooms, or
barns, or convenient fields for preaching, and the collection of
money to defray expenses. Thus, when the incumbent of

122 ANECDOTE OF ALICE CROSS.
Haworth, or some like-minded friend, paid his periodical visit,
he had nothing to do but to preach.
The managers or leaders of these societies, scattered about
Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire, were seldom above the
middle class, and frequently no more than intelligent small
farmers. There is no evidence that Grimshaw's ministry ever had
much effect upon the upper ranks, or indeed was ever brought
to bear upon them. But none but an ignorant man will ever
think the worse of it on that account. To get hold of the lower
middle and lower classes., of society, and enlist them in the ser
vice of Christ, is at this day one of the greatest problems the
Churches have to solve. If Grimshaw succeeded in doing this,
it is enough to prove that he was no common man. A church is
never in so healthy a state as it is when " the common people
hear gladly. "
Let the following extract from Hardy's " Life of Grimshaw"
supply an instance of the sort of people that Grimshaw got hold
of in his itinerant labours outside his own parish : — " At Booth
Bank, in the parish of Rostherne, Cheshire, Grimshaw's services
used to be held in the house of John and Alice Cross. Alice was
a woman of great spirit and intrepidity, and a heroine in Christ's
service. Pier husband was a quiet sober man, but for some
time after her conversion he remained in his old ways. When
going out to worship, with her straw hat in one hand and the
door-latch in the other, she would say to him, 'John Cross, wilt
thou go to heaven with me ? If thou wilt not, I am determined
not to go to hell with thee !' John yielded at last; a pulpit
was fixed in the largest room of their house at Rostherne, and
the messengers of God were made welcome to their fare and
farm. When beggars came to the door she told them of the
riches that are in Christ Jesus, and, kneeling by their side, com
mended them to the grace of God, and then sent them away, grate
ful for her charity, and impressed by her earnestness in seeking
their souls' good. Nor were the more honourable of the land

G RIMS HA W'S LABO URS DEFENDED. I 2 3
beyond the reach of her reproofs. On one occasion she stopped
the Cheshire hunt, when passing her house, and addressed the
horsemen, especially Lord Stamford and Sir Harry Main-
waring, who listened to her warning and rode on. When the
expected preacher did not come, though the pulpit was not
occupied, the congregation did not go empty away. Alice
Cross herself, in her simple and earnest way, dealt out the
bread of life. " Such were the kind of households that Grim
shaw used to make centres of operation in his extra-parochial
evangelism. Such were the kind of people who valued his
labours, welcomed his visits, and proved the value of his preach
ing, in the district within fifty miles of Haworth.
No doubt these extra-parochial labours of Grimshaw will
appear wrong to many in the present day. Many are such
excessive lovers of parochial order that they feel scandalized at
the idea of an incumbent preaching in other men's parishes.
Such people would do well to remember the condition of
England in Grimshaw's times. There were scores and hundreds
of parishes all over the north of England in which there was no
resident clergyman ; and the services ofthe Church, even when
performed, were cold, brief, and utterly unprofitable. To tell
us that Grimshaw ought to have left the inhabitants of these
parishes to perish in ignorance rather than commit a breach of
parochial order, is simply ridiculous. Men might as well tell
us that we must not knock at a person's door and awaken him,
when his house is on fire, because we have not the honour of
his acquaintance ! The parochial system of the Church of
England was designed for the good of men's souls. It was
never intended to ruin souls by cutting them offfrom the sound
of the gospel.
The thing that is really wonderful, in the history of Grim
shaw's extra-parochial labours, is the non-interference of eccle
siastical authorities. How the incumbent of Haworth can
have gone on for fifteen or twenty years preaching all over

124 "MAD GRIMSHAW."
Lancashire, Yorkshire, and Cheshire, without being stopped by
bishops and archdeacons, is very hard to understand ! Let us
charitably hope that many felt in their secret hearts that some
such evangelism as his was absolutely needed. The enor
mous size of such parishes as Bradford and Halifax in York
shire — asWhalley, Rochdale, and Prestwich, in Lancashire — as
Stockport, Astbury, and Prestbury, in Cheshire, made it utterly
impossible for the clergymen of the mother-churches to provide
means of grace for their parishioners. We may well believe,
that to arrest such labours as Grimshaw's in these unwieldy
parishes would have been so unwise, that even bishops and
archdeacons of the last century shrank from attempting it. Be
the cause what it may, it is a most curious fact that Grimshaw
was never entirely stopped in his extra-parochial ministry. The
hand of the Lord was with him, and he carried on his itinerant
work, as well as his regular services at Haworth, up to his
death. But though Grimshaw was never actually stopped, we must
not suppose that he escaped persecution. The prince of this
world will never willingly part with any of his subjects. He
will stir up opposition against any one who tries to pull down
his kingdom. The incumbent of Haworth was often obliged to
face abuse and personal violence of a kind that we can hardly
imagine in the present day. " Mad Grimshaw" was the name
given to him by many throughout the district in which he
laboured. None opposed him more than some of the clergy.
With the true dog-in-the-manger spirit, they neither did good
themselves nor liked any one else to do it for them.
The most violent of Grimshaw's opponents was the Rev. George
White, perpetual curate of Colne and Marsden, in Lanca
shire. This worthy commenced his attack by publishing a sermon
against the Methodists, preached at his two churches in August
1748. In this sermon he charged Grimshaw and all his fellow-
labourers with being "authors of confusion ; open destroyers of

PERSECUTION A T COLNE. 1 2 5
the public peace; flying in the face ofthe very Church they
craftily pretend to follow ; occasioning many bold insurrections,
which threaten our spiritual government ; schismatical rebels
against the best of Churches ; authors of a further breach in our
unhappy divisions ; contemners of the great command, ' Six
days shalt thou labour ;' defiers of all laws, civil and ecclesias
tical ; professed disrespecters of learning and education ; causing
a visible ruin of trade and manufactures ; and, in short, promo
ters of a shameful progress of enthusiasm and confusion not to
be paralleled in any other Christian dominion."
Not content with preaching this stuff and nonsense, White
proceeded to stir up a mob to stop the preaching of Grimshaw
and his companions by force and violence. He actually issued
a proclamation, in order to collect a mob, in the following
words : " Notice is hereby given, that if any men be mindful to
enlist into His Majesty's service, under the command of the
Rev. George White, commander-in-chief, and John Banister,
lieutenant-general of His Majesty's forces, for the defence ofthe
Church of England, and the support of the manufactures in and
about Colne, both which are now in danger, let them now repair
to the cross, when each man shall have a pint of ale for advance,
and other proper encouragements."
The consequence of this outrageous proclamation was just
what might have been expected. " Lewd fellows of the baser
sort" are always ready to make a riot against religion, as they
were in the days of St. Paul. When Grimshaw and John
Wesley went to Colne to preach, on the 24th of August 1748,
they were attacked by an overwhelming mob of drunken people
armed with clubs, and dragged before White like thieves and
malefactors. After a vain endeavour to extort a promise from
them that they would desist from coming to preach at Colne,
they were allowed to leave the house. As soon as they got
outside, " the mob closed in upon them, and tossed them about
with great violence, throwing Grimshaw down, and covering

126 REPLY TO WHITE'S SERMON.
both of them with mire, there being no one to come to their
rescue. The people who had assembled to hear the word of
God were treated with even greater cruelty. They had to run
for their lives, amidst showers of dirt and stones, and no regard
was paid to either sex or age. Some were trampled in the mire ;
others dragged by the hair ; and many were unmercifully beaten
with clubs. One was forced to leap from a rock, ten or twelve
feet high, into the river, to prevent being thrown in headlong.
When he crawled out, wet and bruised, they swore they would
throw him in again, and were with difficulty prevented from
executing their threat. White, well-pleased, was watching his
mad followers all this time without a word to stay them. "*
None of these things moved the lion-hearted incumbent of
Haworth. Not long afterwards he went to Colne again, and
was again shamefully treated — pelted with mud and dirt, and
dragged violently along the road. In the following year, 1749,
he published a long reply to White's sermon, extending to
eighty-six pages, in which he powerfully and triumphantly re
futed White's charges.t
Persecution of this rough kind was not the only hard measure
that Grimshaw had to undergo in consequence of his extra-pa
rochial evangelism. He was more than once called to account
for his conduct by the Archbishop of York, and seems to have
escaped suspension or deprivation in a most marvellous manner.
On one occasion " a charge was preferred against him for
having preached in a licensed meeting-house at Leeds. Had
proof been forthcoming to substantiate the charge, he would
have been dismissed from his cure for irregularity. Though no
* See Hardy's " Life of Grimshaw," p. 82.
\ White must have been a very extreme specimen of the careless, worthless clergyman
ofthe last century. He was educated at Douay College for the Romish priesthood, and
after his recantation was recommended for preferment to the vicar of Whalley, by Arch
bishop Potter. He frequently abandoned his parish for weeks together ; and, on one occa
sion, is said to have read the funeral-service more than twenty times in a single night over
the dead bodies that had been buried in his absence ! He died at Langroyd in 1751 ; and
it is pleasant to record, that he is said to have sent for Grimshaw on his death-bed, an.l
expressed his sorrow for the part he took in the riotous proceedings above described.

CALLED TO ACCOUNT BY THE ARCHBISHOP. 127
act of delinquency was proved, he was obliged to promise the
archbishop that he would not preach in any place that had been
licensed for the worship of dissenters ; while he repeated his
determination to continue preaching abroad so long as there
were souls for whom no one seemed to care. On another occasion,
when accused of preaching out of his own parish, he was asked
by the archbishop, ' Plow many communicants had you when
you first came to Haworth ?' He answered, ' Twelve, my lord. '
' How many have you now ?' was the next question. The reply
was, ' In the winter, from three to four hundred ; and in the
summer, near twelve hundred.' On hearing this the arch
bishop expressed his approbation, and said, ' We cannot find
fault with Mr. Grimshaw when he is instrumental in bringing so
many persons to the Lord's Table. ' "*
On another occasion, " when complaint was made to the
archbishop of his ramblings and intrusions into other men's
folds, the archbishop announced his intention to hold a confir
mation-service in Mr. Grimshaw's church, and to have an inter
view with him on the occasion. On the day appointed they
met in Haworth vestry, and while the clergy and laity were
assembling in great numbers, the following conversation took
place: 'I have heard,' said the archbishop, 'many extraordi
nary reports respecting your conduct, Mr. Grimshaw. It has
been stated to me that you not only preach in private houses
in your parish, but also travel up and down, and preach where
you have a mind, without consulting your diocesan or the clergy
into whose parishes you obtrude your labours; and that your
discourses are very loose ; that, in fact, you can and do preach
about anything. That I may be able to judge for myself, both
of your doctrine and manner of stating it, I give you notice that
I shall expect you to preach before me and the clergy present
in two hours hence, and from the text which I am about to
name. ' After repeating the text, the archbishop added : ' Sir,
* Hardy's " Life of Grimshaw," p. 232.

I 28 EFFECT OF GRIMSHA WS SERMON.
you may now retire, and make what preparation you can while
I confirm the young people. ' — ' My lord, ' said Grimshaw,
looking out of the vestry-door into the church, ' see what multi
tudes of people are here ! Why should the order of the service
be reversed, and the congregation kept out of the sermon for
two hours?* Send a clergyman to read prayers, and I will
begin immediately. ' After prayers Mr. Grimshaw ascended the
pulpit, and began an extempore prayer for the archbishop, the
people, and the young persons about to be confirmed, and
wrestled with God for his assistance and blessing, until the
congregation, the clergy, and the archbishop himself, were
moved to tears. After the service was over, the clergy gathered
round the archbishop to ascertain what proceedings he intended
to adopt in order to restrain the preacher from such rash and ex
temporaneous expositions of God's Word. To their surprise the
archbishop, taking Mr. Grimshaw by the hand, said with a
tremulous voice, ' I would to God that all the clergy in my
diocese were like this good man !' Mr. Grimshaw afterwards
observed to a party of friends who came to take tea with him
that evening, ' I did expect to be turned out of my parish on
this occasion ; but if I had been I would have joined my friend
John Wesley, taken my saddle-bags and gone to one of his
poorest circuits. ' "t
It is impossible to turn from this part of Grimshaw's history
without feelings of righteous indignation. There is something
revolting in the idea of a holy and zealous minister of the
Church of England being persecuted for overstepping the bounds
of ecclesiastical etiquette, while hundreds of clergymen were let
alone and undisturbed whose lives and doctrine were beneath
contempt. All over England country livings were often filled
by hunting, shooting, gambling, drinking, card-playing, swear-

* It is evident that the confirmation described in this story must have been held on a
Sunday. t From Strachan's " Life of Rev. G. Lowe," a Methodist minister.

HIS LOVE TO THE ARTICLES AND HOMILIES. 129
ing, ignorant clergymen, who cared neither for law nor gospel,
and utterly neglected tlieir parishes. When they did preach,
they either preached to empty benches, or else "the hungry
sheep looked up and were not fed.|" And yet these men lived
under their own vines and fig-trees enjoying great quietness,
untouched by bishops, eating the fat of the land, and calling
themselves the true supporters of the Church ! But the moment
a man rose up like Grimshaw, who gloried in the Articles,
Liturgy, and Homilies, and preached the Gospel, he was treated
like a felon and malefactor, and his name cast out as evil !
Truly God's patience with the Church of England a hundred
years ago was something marvellous. Marvellous that he did
not remove our candlestick altogether ! Marvellous that he
granted her such a revival, and raised up so many burning and
shining lights amongst her ministers !
To talk of Grimshaw being no Churchman and being an
enemy to the Church of England, is preposterous and absurd.
If attachment to the standards and formularies of his own
communion is a mark of Churchmanship, he was a Churchman
in the truest sense. No doubt he loved all who loved Jesus
Christ in sincerity. No doubt he made nothing of parochial
boundaries when souls were perishing, and other clergymen
neglected their duties. But to the day of his death he was a
steady adherent of the Church in which he had been ordained,
used her services devoutly and regularly, and did more for her
real interests than any clergyman in the north of England. One
of his biographers specially mentions " that he greatly admired
the Homilies, and regarded their disuse, and neglect of the
Thirty-nine Articles, as the chief occasion of all the mischief to
the Church, believing it probable that if they had been con
stantly read Methodism would never have appeared." He
said once, that an old clergyman of his acquaintance, being
asked by his curate if he might read the Homilies in the pulpit,
answered " No ! for if you should do so, the whole congregation
nos) 9

13° HIS LAST ILLNESS.
would turn Methodists." On another occasion he wrote to
Charles Wesley the following remarkable words : " I see no
thing so materially amiss in the liturgy, or the Church consti
tution, as to disturb my conscience or justify my separation.
No : where shall I go to mend myself ? I believe the Church
of England to be the soundest, purest, and most apostolica]
national Christian Church in the world. Therefore I can in
good conscience (as I am determined, God willing, to do) live
and die in her. " Yet this is the man who, some dare to tell us,
was no Churchman !
Grimshaw's holy and useful career was brought to an end on
the 7th of April 1763. He died in his own house at Haworth
of a putrid fever, in the fifty-fifth year of his age and the twenty-
first of his ministry at Haworth. The fever of which he died
had been raging in his parish from the beginning of the year,
and had proved fatal to many of the inhabitants. " On its first
breaking out," says Hardy, " he had a presentiment that it
would prove fatal to some member of his family, and had
exhorted all to be ready." When visiting a parishioner he
caught the prevailing epidemic, and at once predicted that he
would not recover.
To the physician who attended him " he expressed in strong
terms the humiliating feelings he had on a retrospect of his
whole life, and how disproportionate, defective, and defiled his
best services had been, compared with the obligation under
which he felt himself, and the importance of the cause in which
he had been engaged ; and that he hoped, if the Lord should
prolong his days and raise him up, to be much more active and
diligent." To his friend and brother in the gospel, the Rev. Mr. Ing
ham, he said : " My last enemy is come ! The signs of death
are upon me. But I am not afraid. No ! no ! Blessed be
God, my hope is sure, and I am in his hands." Afterwards,
when Mr. Ingham prayed for the lengthening of his life, that he

B URLED IN L UD DEN DEN CHURCH. 1 3 1
might yet be useful to Christ's cause, he said, " Alas ! what
have my wretched services been ? I have now need to cry, at
the end of my unprofitable course, God be merciful to me a
sinner!" At another time, laying his hand on his heart, he
said, " I am quite exhausted ; but I shall soon be at home — for
ever with the Lord — a poor miserable sinner redeemed by his
blood." His valued fellow-labourer, the Rev. Henry Venn, then vicar
of Huddersfield, came over to see him from Huddersfield, and
asked him how he felt. To him he replied, " Never had I such
a visit from God since I first knew him. I am as happy
as I can be on earth, and as sure of glory as if I were in it."
After this, finding that his disease was peculiarly infectious
and dangerous, he requested his friends to visit him as little
as possible. But his peace and hope are reported to have
continued unshaken to the end. As he lived so he died,
rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and putting no confidence in the
flesh." He was buried, by his own desire, by the side of his first wife
in the chancel of Luddenden Church, in the valley of the
Calder, not far from Haworth. Like Joseph, " he gave com
mandment concerning his bones." He had drawn up full and
particular directions about his funeral long before he was taken
ill, and these directions were carefully followed. The number
of attendants was to be twenty, "religious or relative friends,
or both." He would have only a plain, poor man's burial suit,
and a plain, poor man's coffin of elm boards, with the words on
the cover, " To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." All
the way to the church suitable verses were to be sung, in
various selected metres and tunes, out of the 23rd, 39th, and
91st Psalms, and also suitable hymns. One of the attendants,
at least, was to be a Methodist preacher, and he was to preach
a funeral sermon from the text on his coffin (Phil. i. 21). The
Methodist preacher selected for the occasion was his old friend

1 3 2 G RIMS HA W'S FA MIL Y.
and fellow-labourer, Henry Venn.* The church at Luddenden
was too small to contain the immense congregation which
assembled, and the preacher had to take his position in the
grave-yard. " Tradition reports," says Hardy, " that Venn's
voice rose like the swell of a full-toned bell as he told forth the
virtues of his departed friend, and exhorted the people to follow
him as he had followed Christ." Never, indeed, had any man
a more honourable burial. Like Stephen, " devout men carried
him to his grave, and made great lamentation over him." He
had, as Venn well remarks, " what is more ennobling than all
the pomp of solemn dirges, or of a royal funeral. He was fol
lowed to the tomb by a great multitude, who beheld his corpse
with affectionate sighs and many tears, and who cannot still
hear his much-loved name without weeping for the guide of
their souls."
Grimshaw was twice married, and twice left a widower. His
first wife was Sarah, daughter of John Lockwood of Ewood
Hall. She had been twice married before, first to William Sut-
cliffe of Scaitcliffe Hall, and secondly to John Ramsden, both
of whom died without children. He was evidently greatly
attached to his first wife, and her death, on the ist of No
vember 1739, made a deep impression on him. His second
wife was Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Cockcroft of Mayroyd,
near Hebden Bridge. I can find no record of the date of her
death. Grimshaw had only two children, both by his first wife, a son
and a daughter. His daughter died when only twelve years
old, when at school at Kingswood, near Bristol. Charles
Wesley says that " she departed in the Lord." His son sur
vived his father only three years, and died childless. During
his father's lifetime he had been careless and intemperate, and
the cause of great grief. When he visited him on his death-
* All evangelical clergymen of the Church of England used to be called " Methodists "
a hundred years ago.

HIS LITERARY REMAINS. 1 33
bed, Grimshaw told him to take care what he did, as he was
not fit to die. To him also he used the remarkable words that
" his body felt like a boiling vessel, but his soul was as happy
as it could be made by God." John Grimshaw died at Ewood
on the 17th May 1766, and by God's great mercy there was
hope in his death. His father's dying words perhaps sunk into
his heart, and at any rate his father's many prayers for him
were heard. After his father's death, he used to ride a horse
which formerly belonged to him, and one day meeting an
inhabitant of Haworth, the man remarked, " I see you are
riding the old parson's horse." — "Yes," was the reply; "once
he carried a great saint, and now he carries' a great sinner."
Long before his death young Grimshaw had given clear evi
dence of repentance unto salvation, and found pardon and
peace in Christ ; and a little time before he died, he was heard
to exclaim, " What will my old father say when he sees I have
got to heaven?"

CHAPTER III.
Literary Remains — Covenant and Summary of Belief — Letter to Christians in London —
Anecdotes and Traditions — Influence in his Parish — Haworth Races Stopped — Mode
of Discovering False Professors — Peculiarities in his Conduct of Divine Service — Tes
timony of Romaine, Venn, and Newton.
In order to form a correct estimate of a great man's character,
there are two sources of information to which we should always
turn, if possible, in addition to the events of his life. The
literary remains he leaves behind him form one of these sources;
the anecdotes handed down about him by contemporaries form
another. From both these sources I will endeavour to supply
the reader of these pages with some further information about
William Grimshaw.
The literary remains of a man like Grimshaw are necessarily
few and scanty. It could hardly be otherwise. A clergyman
who was constantly preaching twenty or thirty times a-week,

134 GRIMSHAW'S COVENANT.
and carrying on a system of aggressive evangelism all over
Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire, was not likely to have
much time for writing. In fact, his " Reply to White," already
referred to, is the only formal publication that he ever put
forth. He says himself in the Reply, " I have as little leisure
for writing as for anything I do." There are, however, a few
valuable relics of his thoughts still extant, which are useful, as
indicating his turn of mind, and will probably be thought inter
esting by all Christian readers.
His covenant with God, given at length by Hardy, is a
very striking and interesting document, though too long for the
pages of a memoir like this.* The following disconnected
extracts will give some idea of it : —
"Eternal and unchangeable Jehovah! thou great Creator of heaven
and earth, and adorable Lord of angels and men ! I desire with the deepest
humiliation and abasement of soul to fall down at this time in thine awful
presence, and earnestly pray that thou wilt penetrate my heart with a suit
able sense of thine unutterable and inconceivable glories." . . .
' ' I know that through Jesus, the Son of thy love, thou condescendest to
visit sinful mortals, and to allow their approach to thee and this covenant
intercourse with thee. Nay, I know that the scheme and plan are entirely
thine own, and that thou hast graciously sent to propose it unto me, as
none untaught by thee could have been able to join it, or inclined to embrace
it, even when actually proposed." . . .
"To thee, therefore, do I now come, invited by thy love, and trusting
his righteousness alone, laying myself at thy feet with shame and confusion
of face, and smiting on my breast, saying with the publican, God be merci
ful to me a sinner ! I acknowledge, O Lord, that I have been a great trans
gressor. My sins have reached unto heaven, and mine iniquities have been
lifted up unto the skies. My base corruptions and lusts have numberless
ways wrought to bring forth fruit unto death, and if thou wert extreme to
mark what I have done amiss, I could never abide it. But thou hast gra
ciously called me to return unto thee, though I am a prodigal son and a
backsliding child. Behold, therefore, I solemnly come before thee. O my
Lord, I am convinced of my sin and folly. Thou knowest, O Lord, I
solemnly covenanted with thee in the year 1738. And now, once more and
* In giving this covenant to my readers, I would carefully abstain from saying that such
covenants ought always to be made, or to be pressed on all Christians. So far from that,
I think them likely to do harm to some minds. Let every one use his liberty. He that
finds it good to make a covenant, let him make it. But let him not condemn his neigh
bour who makes none.

GRIMSHAW'S COVENANT. 1 35
for ever, I most solemnly give up, devote, and resign all I am, spirit, soul,
and body to thee, and to thy pleasure and commands in Christ Jesus my
Saviour, this 4th of December 1752 ; sensible of my vileness and unworthi-
ness, but yet sensible that I am thy pardoned, justified, and regenerated
child in the spirit and blood of my dear and precious Saviour, Jesus Christ,
by clear experience." . . .
"Glory be to thee, 0 my Triune God ! Permit me to repeat and renew
my covenant with thee. I desire and resolve to be wholly and for ever
thine. Blessed God, I most solemnly surrender myself unto thee. Hear,
O heaven, and give ear, O earth ! I avouch this day the Lord to be my
God, Father, Saviour, and portion for ever. I am one of his covenant
children for ever. Record, O eternal Lord, in thy book of remembrance
that henceforth I am thine for ever. From this day I solemnly renounce all
former lords — world, flesh, and devil — in thy name. No more, directly or
indirectly, will I obey them. I renounced them many years ago, and I
renounce them for ever. This day I give up myself to thee, a living sacri
fice, holy and acceptable unto thee ; which I know is my reasonable service.
To thee I consecrate all my worldly possessions ; in thy service I desire and
purpose to spend all my time, desiring thee to teach me to spend every
moment of it to thy glory and the setting forth of thy praise, in every station
and relation of life I am now or may hereafter be in. And I earnestly pray
that whatever influence thou mayest in any wise give me over others, thou
wouldest give me strength and courage to exert it to the utmost to thy glory,
resolving not only myself to do it, but that all others, so far as I can ration
ally and properly influence them, shall serve the Lord. In that cause would
I, O Lord, steadfastly persevere to my last breath, steadfastly praying that
every day of my life may supply the defects and correct the irregularities of
the former ; and that by divine grace I may be enabled not only in that
happy way to hold on, but to grow daily more active in it. Nor do I only
consecrate all I have to thy service, but I also most humbly resign and sub
mit to thy holy and sovereign will all that I have. I leave, O Lord, to thy
management and direction all I possess and all I wish, and set every enjoy
ment and interest before thee to be disposed of as thou pleasest. Continue
or remove what thou hast given me, bestow or refuse what I imagine I want,
as thou seest good ; and though I dare not say I will never repine, yet I
hope I may say I will labour not only to submit but to acquiesce ; not only
to bear thy heaviest afflictions on me, but to consent to them and praise
thee for them ; contentedly resolving, in all thy appointments, my will into
thine ; esteeming myself as nothing, and thee, O God, as the great Eternal
All, whose word shall determine, and whose power shall order all things in
the world." . . .
"Dispose my affairs, O God, in a manner which may be wholly subser
vient to thy glory and my own true happiness ; and when I have done,
borne, and endured thy will upon earth, call me home at what time and in
what manner thou pleasest. Only grant that in my dying moments, and
the near approach of eternity, I may remember this my engagement to thee,

1 3 6 HIS SUMMAR Y OF BELIEF.
and may employ my latest breath in thy service ; and do thou, when thou
seest me in the agonies of death, remember this covenant too, though I
should be incapable of recollecting it. Look down upon me, O Lord, thy
languishing, dying child ; place thine everlasting arms underneath my head ;
put strength and confidence into my departing spirit, and receive it to the
embrace of thine everlasting love." . . .
" And when I am thus numbered with the dead and all the interests of
mortality are over with me for ever, if this solemn memorial should fall into
the hands of any surviving friends or relations, may it be the means of mak
ing serious impressions on their minds, and may they read it not only as my
language, but as their own, and learn to fear the Lord my God, and with
me to put their trust under the shadow of his wings for time and for
eternity. "...
' ' I solemnly subscribe this dedication of myself to the ever-blessed Triune
God, in the presence of angels and all invisible spectators, this fourth day of
December 1752. William Grimshaw."
The next document from which I will supply some extracts,
is a Creed or Summary of Belief which Grimshaw sent to
Romaine in December 1762, only four months before his death.
It is to be found at length in Middleton's Biographia Evangelica.
This creed is a regular systematic statement of Grimshaw's
religious views, drawn out into twenty-six heads, and is of course
far too long to be inserted in this place. A few paragraphs are
all that I can give the reader. They prove, at any rate, that,
however much Grimshaw may have agreed with Wesley on many
points, he certainly was not an Arminian.*
' ' xxii. — I believe it is by the Spirit we are enabled, not to eradicate (as
some affirm), for that is absurd, but to subjugate the old man; to suppress,
not extirpate, the exorbitancies of our fleshly appetites ; to resist and over
come the world and the devil, and to grow in grace gradually, not suddenly,
unto the perfect and eternal day. This is all I acknowledge or know to be
Christian perfection or sanctification.
"xxm. — I believe that all true believers will be daily tempted by the
flesh, as well as by the world and the devil, even to their lives' end ; and
they will feel an inclination, more or less, to comply, yea and do comply
* It is worthy of remark, that in one of his letters, on another occasion, Grimshaw uses
the following language : " My perfection is to see my own imperfection ; my comfort, to
feel that I have the world, flesh, and devil to overthrow through the Spirit and merits of
my dear Saviour ; and my desire and hope is to love God with all my heart, mind, soul,
and strength, to the last gasp of life. This is my perfection. I know no other, expecting
to lay down my life and my sword together."

LETTER TO CHRISTIANS IN LONDON. 137
therewith . So that the best believer, if he knows what he says, and says
the truth, is but a sinner at the best.
"xxiv. — I believe that their minds are incessantly subject to a thousand
impertinent, unprofitable thoughts, even amidst tlieir reading, meditation,
and prayers ; that all their religious exercises are deficient ; that all their
graces, how eminent soever, are imperfect ; that God sees iniquity in all
their holy things ; and though it be granted that they love God with all
their hearts, yet they must continually pray with the psalmist, ' Enter not
into judgment with thy servant.'
"xxv. — But I believe that Jesus is a full as well as a free Saviour, the
same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. He alone is not only the believer's
wisdom and righteousness, but his sanctification and redemption; and in
him is a fountain ever open for sin and uncleanness unto the last breath of
his life. This is my daily, necessary privilege, my relief, and my comfort.
' ' xxvi. — I believe, lastly, that God is faithful and unchangeable ; that all
his promises are yea and amen ; that he never, never will, as the apostle
says, leave me; will never, never, never forsake me; but that I, and all
that believe, love, and fear him, shall receive the end of our faith — the sal
vation of our souls.
" Here is the sum and substance of my creed. It is at least what I pre
sume to call my form of sound words. In it I can truly say I have no
respect to men or books, ancient or modern, but to the Holy Scriptures,
reason, and experience. According to this creed hitherto I have, and I
hope hereafter to proceed in all my preaching, debasing man and exalting
my dear Lord in all his offices."
The last specimen that I will give of Grimshaw's remains is
a letter addressed by him to certain Christians in London. It
is dated January 9, 1760, and is to be found in Hardy's Life.
' ' Grace, mercy, and peace be to you from God our Father and from our
Lord Jesus. It is well with some sorts of people that you have had, or now
have to do with. It is well with those of you in Christ who are gone to God ;
it is well with those of you in Christ who are not gone to God ; it is well
with those of you who earnestly long to be in Christ, that they may go to
God ; it is well for those who neither desire to be in Christ nor to go to
God ; and it is only bad with such who, being out of Christ, are gone to
the devil. Them it is best to let alone, and say no more about them.
" It is well with those of you who, being in Christ, are gone to God.
You, ministers and members of Christ, have no more doubt or pain about
them. They are now and for ever out of the reach of the world, flesh, and
devil. They are gone where the wicked cease from troubling, and where
the weary are at rest. They are sweetly reposing in Abraham's bosom.
They dwell in His presence who hath redeemed them, where there is fulness
of joy and pleasure for evermore. They are waiting the joyful morning of
the resurrection, when their vile bodies shall be made like unto his glorious

138 LETTER TO CHRISTIANS IN LONDON.
body, shall be re-united to the soul, shall receive the joyful sentence, and
inherit the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world.
" It is well also with those of you who are in Christ though not gone to
God. You live next door to them. Heaven is begun with you too. The
kingdom of God is within you ; you feel it. This is a kingdom of righteous
ness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. It is begun in grace, and shall
terminate in glory. Yea, it is Christ within you the hope of glory. Christ
the rock, the foundation laid in your hearts, hope in the middle, and glory
at the top. Christ, hope, glory ! Christ, hope, glory ! You are washed in
the blood of the Lamb ; justified, sanctified, and shall shortly be glorified.
Yea, your lives are already hid with Christ in God. You have your con
versation already in heaven. Already you sit in heavenly places in Christ
Jesus. "What heavenly sentences are these ! What can come nearer Para
dise? Bless the Lord, O ye happy souls, and let all that is within you bless
his holy name. Sing unto the Lord as long as you live, and praise your
God while you have your being. And how long will that be ? Through
the endless ages of a glorious eternity !
" It is well with all those of you who truly desire to be in Christ, that you
may go to God. Surely he owns you. Your desires are from him ; you shall
enjoy his favour. By-and-by you shall have peace with him through our
Lord Jesus Christ. Go forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed by the
Shepherd's tents. Be constant in every means of grace. He will be found
of them that diligently seek him. Blessed are they that mourn, for they
shall be comforted. Though your sins be never so many, never so monstrous,
all shall be forgiven. He will have mercy upon you, and will abundantly
pardon. For where sin hath abounded, grace doth much more abound.
Fie who hath begun this good work in you will accomplish it to your eternal
good and his eternal glory. Therefore doubt not, fear not ; a broken and
a contrite heart God will not despise. The deeper is your sorrow, the
nearer is your joy. Your extremity is God's opportunity. It is usually
darkest just before daybreak. You shall shortly find pardon, peace, and
plenteous redemption, and at last rejoice in the common and glorious sal
vation of his saints.
" And lastly, it is well for you who neither truly desire to be in Christ,
nor to go to God. For it is well for you that you are not in hell. It is
well your day of grace is not utterly past. Behold, now is your accepted
time ; behold, now is your day of salvation ! Oh that you may employ the
remainder of it in working out your salvation with fear and trembling. Now
is faith to be had — saving faith. Now you may be washed from all sins in
the Redeemer's blood, justified, sanctified, and prepared for heaven. Take,
I beseech you, the time, while the time is. You have now the means of
grace to use, the ordinances of God to enjoy, his Word to read and hear,
his ministers to instruct you, and his members to converse with. You know
not what a day may bring forth. You may die suddenly. As death leaves
you judgment will find you. And if you should die as you are — out of
Christ, void of true faith, unregenerate, unsanctified — fire and brimstone,

VAL UE OF LITER AR Y REMAINS. 1 3 9
storm and tempest, God will rain upon you, as your eternal, intolerable
portion to drink.
" Suffer me, therefore, thus far, one and all of you. God's glory and your
everlasting salvation is all I aim at. What I look for in return from you is,
I confess, much more than I deserve — your prayers."

It would be easy to supply many more extracts than these.
But I forbear. I make no apology, however, for the length of
those I have already given. The reader will probably agree
with me that they are in themselves full of interesting matter.
But this is not all. They possess an additional value as sup
plying a most graphic picture of Grimshaw's mode of expressing
himself, and of the topics on which his mind was constantly
dwelling. In fact, they furnish a pretty correct idea of what
the good man's preaching must have been. He evidently
wrote as he thought and spoke. His remains are just the over
flowings of a heart full of Scripture, full of Christ, full of deep
thoughts on the sinfulness of sin, the value of the soul, the need
of repentance and faith, the happiness of holy living, the im
portance of a world to come. Let a man analyze Grimshaw's
remains carefully and thoughtfully, and I suspect he will have
a very fair conception of the style in which Grimshaw used to
preach. The anecdotes and traditions that have been handed down
about the good Incumbent of Haworth are very many and very
curious. All of them, perhaps, are not true. Some, perhaps,
are greatly exaggerated. Many, however, after making every
fair deduction, are undoubtedly credible and genuine. I will
mention some of them.
The influence he gradually obtained in his own parish was
very great. Even those who were not converted looked up to
him and feared him. John Newton says : " One Sunday, as a
man was passing through Haworth on horseback, his horse lost
a shoe. He applied to a blacksmith to put it on. To his
surprise, the man told him he could not shoe a horse on the

14° ANECDOTES AND TRADITIONS.
Lord's day without the minister's leave. They went together
to Mr. Grimshaw, and the man satisfying him that he was really
in haste, going for a doctor, Mr. Grimshaw permitted the black
smith to shoe the horse, which otherwise he would not have
done for double pay."
" It was his frequent custom," adds Newton, " to leave the
church at Haworth while the psalm before sermon was singing,
to see if any were absent from worship and idling their time in
the churchyard, the street, or the ale-houses ; and many of those
whom he so found he would drive into church before him.* A
friend of mine, passing a public-house in Haworth on a Lord's
day morning, saw several persons making their escape out of it,
some jumping out of the lower windows, and some over a low
wall. He was at first alarmed, fearing the house was on fire ;
but upon inquiring what was the cause of the commotion, he
was only told that they saw the parson coming. They were
more afraid of the parson than of a justice of the peace. His
reproof was so authoritative, and yet so mild and friendly, that
the stoutest sinner could not stand before him.
" He endeavoured likewise to suppress the common custom
of walking in the fields on the Lord's day in summer, instead
of coming to God's house. He not only bore his testimony
against it from the pulpit, but went into the fields in person to
detect and reprove the delinquents. There was a spot at some
distance from the village, where many young people used to
assemble on Sundays in spite of all his warnings. At last he
disguised himself one evening, that he might not be known till
he was near enough to discover who they were. He then threw
off his disguise, and charged them not to move. He took down
all their names with his pencil, and ordered them to attend on
* According to Hardy, there is a tradition in Haworth that Grimshaw sometimes used
a stick or horse-whip on these occasions, and that he occasionally gave out the 119th Psalm
to be sung during his absence from church, in order that he might have the longer time
for prosecuting his search after the disorderly. These stories, however, are probably
apocryphal.

II A WOR TH RA CES STOPPED. 1 4 1
him on a day and hour which he appointed. They all waited
on him accordingly, as punctually as if they had been served
with a warrant. When they came, he led them into a private
room, when, after forming them into a circle and commanding
them to kneel down, he kneeled down in the midst of them,
and prayed for them with much earnestness for a considerable
time. After rising from his knees, he gave them a close and
affecting lecture. He never had occasion to repeat this
friendly discipline. He entirely broke the objectionable cus
tom." One of the most remarkable and well-authenticated anecdotes
about Grimshaw is in connection with Haworth races. These
races were an annual festival got up by the innkeepers, and a
great occasion of drunkenness, riot, profligacy, and confusion.
For some time Grimshaw attempted in vain to stop these races.
" At last," says John Newton, " unable to prevail with men, he
addressed himself to God. For some time before the races he
made it a subject of fervent prayer that the Lord would be
pleased to interfere, and to stop these evil proceedings in his
own way. When the race-time came, the people assembled as
usual, but they were soon dispersed. Before the races could
begin, dark clouds covered the sky, and such excessively heavy
rain fell, that the people could not remain on the ground, and
it continued to rain incessantly during the three days appointed
for the races. This event was much spoken of at Haworth.
It became a sort of proverbial saying among the people that old
Grimshaw put a stop to the races by his prayers. And it
proved an effectual stop. There were no more races at
Haworth." " He was particularly watchful," says Newton, " over those of
his flock who made an open profession of religion, to see if
they adorned the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things, and
maintained a consistent character ; and he was very severe in
his censures if he found any of his communicants guilty of

1 4 2 GRIMSHA W'S DISGUISE.
wrong practices. When he suspected hypocrisy, he sometimes
took such strange methods to detect it, as perhaps few men but
himself would have thought of. He had a suspicion of the
sincerity of some of his hearers, who made great pretence to
religion. In order to find out one of them, he disguised him
self as a poor man, and applied to him for relief and a lodging ;
and, behold ! this person who wished to be thought very good
and charitable, treated him with some abuse. — He then went to
another house, to a woman who was almost blind. He touched
her gently with his stick, and went on doing it until she, sup
posing it was done by some children in the neighbourhood,
began not only to threaten but to swear at them. Thus he was
confirmed in his apprehensions."
"At a cottage prayer-meeting," says Hardy, " some of Grim
shaw's people had to endure much annoyance and persecution,
and for a long time no one could discover who the delinquents
were. At last the incumbent came to their assistance and
solved the mystery. He put on an old woman's cap,and peeped
stealthily from behind the door, and then appeared to grow
rather bolder, while he quietly made the observation he wished.
He found there was a set of rude boys who only came to make
sport and annoy others. They soon began to make fun of
the old woman (as she seemed to be), and defied her with mocks
and menaces. In this way they were all found out and brought
to justice, and then the persecution ceased."
He carried his humility and simplicity of living to such an
extent that he thought anything good enough for himself, if he
could only show a Christian brother kindness and hospitality.
A godly friend who once came to stay a night with him, was
horrified on looking out of his bedroom window in the morn
ing, to see Grimshaw' with his own hands cleaning his guest's
boots ! Nor was this all. On coming down stairs he dis
covered that Grimshaw had actually given up his own bedroom
for his accommodation, and had spent the night in a hay-loft !

HIS PECULLARLTLES. 143
His ways in his own parish, as he went about doing the work
of a pastor, were very peculiar. Hardy says, " When he met
with any one in the lanes he would enter into familiar conver
sation with them, and generally asked if they were accustomed
to pray. When they answered in the affirmative, and he doubted
their sincerity, he bade them kneel down and show him how
they performed this duty. There were sometimes scenes by the
road-side, in consequence, that a stranger could not look at
without a smile ; but to the persons concerned these inquiries
were, in some instances, the means of awakening concern about
their souls. The tradition of the district is, that ' he woidd rive
them from horseback to make them pray.' But he was as ready
to do an act of courtesy as to administer reproof. Once on his
way to Colne, he overtook an old woman, and asked her where
she was going. She replied, ' To hear Grimshaw.' He pitied
her many infirmities ; but she said her heart was already there,
and she would make the body follow. Struck by her earnest
ness, he actually took her up behind him on the pillion of his
own horse, and thus enabled her to reach the place without
further toil."
Hardy adds, " Grimshaw was not unmindful of himself, whilst
watchful over the souls of others. Once he had a very fine cow,
in which he took so much pride, that the thought of her fol
lowed him into the service of the Church, and hindered his
communion with God. He determined that she should no
longer ruffle his mind, and so announced her for sale. When a
farmer came to look at her, he asked, as usual, whether she had
any fault. To this Grimshaw made this quaint reply, ' Her fault
in my eyes will be no fault to you; she follows me into my pulpit.'"
The things that he did inside his church, both in the reading-
desk and the pulpit, may certainly seem to us very eccentric
and strange in the present day.* Undoubtedly, they are not
* Hardy, in his biography, gives an interesting description of Haworth Parish Church,
which, according to him, is very little altered since Grimshaw's death. Among other things.

144 PECULIARITIES IN HIS CONDUCT
examples for imitation ; and unless a man is " a Grimshaw," he
has no right to attempt them. Before condemning them too
strongly, however, men should call to mind the times and the
population with which he had to do. We are, in fact, dealing
with a man who lived a hundred years ago.
He was very particular in enforcing order and devout be
haviour among the worshippers in his church at Haworth.
Carelessness and inattention were instantly observed and openly
rebuked ; and he would not proceed with the service until he saw
every person present in the attitude of devotion. Some of his
hearers certainly deserved great attention and encouragement.
Not a few came ten or twelve miles every Sunday to attend his
ministry. One John Madden of Bacup often walked to Ha
worth on the Sabbath, and returned the same evening, a distance,
out and home, of nearly forty miles.*
In giving out the hymns to be sung in church, he sometimes
took singular liberties. A valued friend of mine was told by an
old man in Haworth that he remembered his grandfather speaking
of Grimshaw, and telling the following story : — His grandfather
was in Haworth Church, when Grimshaw gave out the well-
known hymn of Dr. Watts, beginning, —
" Come, ye that love the Lord,
And let your joys be known ;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
And so surround the throne."
He said, that when Grimshaw had read the first verse, he looked
at the people, and cried out, " Now, unconverted sinners here
present, can you sing that 1"
His sermons were seldom short when he occupied his own
pulpit at Haworth. Indeed, he sometimes preached for two
he says : "Appropriate inscriptions, in various parts of the church, remind the worship
pers of their duty. Under the sounding-board of the pulpit, in gilt letters, there is the
sentence, ( I determined not to know anything save Jesus Christ and him crucified.' His
favourite text, ' To me to live is Christ,' appears on the pulpit, on the brass chandelier, and
on a tablet with the names of the church-officers. On the baptismal font is the sentence,
' I indeed baptize with water, but he shall baptize with the Holy Ghost.'"
* Methodist Magazine for 1811, p. 521.

OF DIVINE SERVICE. 145
hours ! For this he once made an apology to John Newton :
" If I were in some places," he said, " I might not think it
needful to speak so much. But many of my hearers, who are
wicked and careless, are likewise very ignorant and slow of
apprehension. If they do not understand me, I cannot hope to
do them good ; and when I think of the uncertainty of life,
that, perhaps, it may be the last opportunity, and that it is not
impossible I may never see them again till the great day, I know
not how to be explicit enough. I try to set the subject in a
variety of lights. I express the same thoughts in different
words, and can scarcely tell how to leave off, lest I should have
omitted something, for want of which my preaching and their
hearing should be vain."
Flis prayers after sermon must have been sometimes very
remarkable. John Pawson, a well-known Methodist preacher,
said, in 1803, that he heard him, fifty years before, preach a
most comforting discourse on the words, " O fear the Lord, ye
his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him" (Ps.
xxxiv. 9), in which he spoke very strongly about God's faith
fulness to his promises, and said, " Before the Lord will suffer
his promise to fail, he will lay aside his divinity and un-God
himself." Pie then offered the following prayer : " Lord, dis
miss us with thy blessing. Take all these poor people under
thy care, and bring them in safety to their own houses, and give
them their supper when they get home. But let them not eat a
morsel till they have said a grace. Then let them eat and be
satisfied, and return thanks to thee when they have done. Then
let them kneel down and say their prayers before they go to
bed. Let them do this for once at any rate, and then thou wilt
preserve them till the morning."
Though Grimshaw's ministry was almost entirely among the
poor and lower middle classes, he was quite able to take his
position and speak wisely and shrewdly in any company. On
one occasion he was invited to meet a nobleman who had
095) 10

H6 more talents than grace.
imbibed infidel principles, and had resisted the efforts of two
eminent clergymen to convince him of his error. He wished
at once to draw Grimshaw into a discussion, but Grimshaw
firmly and decidedly declined. " My lord," he said, " I do not
refuse to argue because I have nothing to say, or because I
fear for my cause. I refuse because argument will do you no
good. If you really needed any information, I would gladly
assist you. But the fault is not in your head, but in your heart,
which can only be reached by a divine power. I shall pray for
you, but I will not dispute with you." The nobleman afterwards
said that he was more impressed by the honesty and firmness of
those simple words than by all the arguments he had heard.
" To a lady," says Hardy, " with whom Grimshaw was con
versing, he once gave a striking reproof. She was expressing
her admiration of a certain minister who had more talents than
grace. ' Madam,' said Grimshaw, ' I am glad you never saw
the devil. He has greater talents than all the ministers in the
world. I fear, if you saw him, you would fall in love with him,
as you have so high a regard for talents without sanctity. Pray,
do not be led away with the sound of talents.' "
Anecdotes like these tell a tale that ought not to be over
looked. The subject of them must surely have been no ordinary
man. When sayings and doings are so carefully treasured up
and handed down from generation to generation, the character
round which they cluster was one of no common mould. I repeat
the opinion that I expressed at the beginning of this biography.
There were not three greater spiritual heroes in England one
hundred years ago than William Grimshaw.
I will now conclude this paper with three short extracts from
men of approved characters in the last century, which serve to
show the high estimation in which Grimshaw was held by his
contemporaries. Romaine said publicly in a sermon preached at St. Dunstan's
in the West, shortly after Grimshaw's death, —

TESTIMONY OF ROMAINE AND VENN. 147
" Mr. Grimshaw was one of the most laborious and indefati
gable ministers of Christ that I ever knew. For the good of souls
he rejected all hopes of affluent fortune, and for the love of
Christ cheerfully undertook difficulties, dangers, and tribula
tions. He preached Christ and Christ alone ; and God gave
him very numerous seals to his ministry. Himself hath told me
that not fewer than 1200 were in communion with him, most of
whom, in the judgment of charity, he could not but believe to
be one with Christ. When some of his friends, in tenderness
to his health, would wish him to spare himself, he would answer,
— ' Let me labour now : I shall have rest enough by-and-by. I
cannot do enough for Christ, who has done so much for me.'
He was the most humble walker with God I ever met with ;
inasmuch that he could never bear to hear any commendations
ofhis usefulness, or anything which belonged to him. His last
words were, ' Here goes an unprofitable servant !'"
Henry Venn, who preached his funeral sermon, said, among
other things, — " It is hard to determine whether we have more
cause to lament his removal from our world, or to rejoice that
God was pleased to enrich him with divine knowledge in so
large a measure, to make him so long an eminent instrument in
his hand of converting sinners, and to enable him to persevere
with an unblemished character till he finished his course with
joy. Few have ever expressed so great ardency of affection to
the service of Christ as your late much-loved pastor.
" Never was there any sordid child of this world more en
grossed by the love of money, and more laborious in heaping it
up, than your late pastor was in teaching and preaching the
kingdom of God, and the things concerning the Lord Jesus
Christ." John Newton says, — " I knew Mr. Grimshaw, and had re
peated conversations with him for four or five years. I number
it among the many great mercies of my life, that I was favoured
with his notice, edified (I hope) by his instruction and example,

148 TESTIMONY OF JOHN' NEWTON.
and encouraged and directed by his advice, at the critical time
when my own mind was engaged with the desire of entering
the ministry. I saw in him, much more clearly than I could
have learned from books or lectures, what it was to be a faithful
and exemplary minister of the gospel ; and the remembrance of
him has often both humbled and animated me."
These testimonies are weighty and powerful. But they are
not mere flattering words. They are well deserved, and they
are true.

VI.
(WUIIiam |lonuunc anb Ijis fglintsfrg.

CHAPTER I.
Born at Hartlepool in 1714 — Educated at Houghton-le-Spring and Christ Church, Oxford
— Character for Learning at Oxford — Ordained 1736 — Curate of Lewtrenchard and
Banstead — Lectures at St. Botolph's 1748, and St. Dunstan's 1749 — Troubles at St.
Dunstan's — Morning Preacher at St. George's, Hanover Square, 1750 — Loses his
Preachership 1755 — Gresham Professor of Astronomy — Morning Preacher at St.
Olave, Southwark, and St. Bartholomew the Great — Preaches before the University
of Oxford — Gives great Offence.

IHE true Church of Christ is curiously like a well-
appointed army.
The soldiers of an army all owe allegiance to one
common sovereign, and are engaged in one common cause.
They are commanded by one general, and fight against one
common foe. And yet there are marked varieties and diversities
among them. Cavalry, infantry, and artillery have each their
own peculiar mode of fighting. Each arm in its own way is
useful. It is the well-balanced combination of all three which
gives to the whole army efficiency and power.
It is just the same with the true Church of Christ. Its
members all love the same Saviour, and are led by the same
Spirit ; all wage the same warfare against sin and the devil, and
all believe the same gospel. But the work of one soldier of
Christ is not the work of another. Each is appointed by the

15° BIRTH OF WILLIAM ROMA INE.
Great Captain to fill his own peculiar position, and each is
specially useful in his own department.
Thoughts such as these come across my mind, when I turn
from Whitefield, Wesley, and Grimshaw, to the fourth spiritual
hero of the last century — William Romaine. In doctrine and
practical piety, the four good men were, in the main, of one
mind. In their mode of working, they were curiously unlike
one another. Whitefield and Wesley were spiritual cavalry, who
scoured the country, and were found everywhere. Grimshaw
was an infantry soldier, who had his head-quarters at Haworth,
and never went far from home. Romaine, in the meantime,
was a commander of heavy artillery, who held a citadel in the
heart of a metropolis, and seldom stirred beyond his walls. Yet
all these four men were mighty instruments in God's hand for
good ; and not one of them could have been spared. Each did
good service in his own line ; and not the least useful, I hope
to show, was the Rector of Blackfriars, William Romaine. In
what are called popular gifts, no doubt, he was not equal to his
three great contemporaries. But none of the three, probably,
was so well fitted as he was to fill the position which he occu
pied in London.
William Romaine was born at Hartlepool, in the county of
Durham, on the 25th of September 17 14. His father was one
of the French Protestants who took refuge in England after the
revocation of the edict of Nantes. He settled at Hartlepool as
a corn merchant, and appears to have prospered in business.
At any rate, he brought up a family of two sons and three
daughters, and left behind a high character as a kind and esti
mable man when he died, 1757, at the ripe age of eighty-five.
There is every reason to believe that Romaine's parents were
decidedly religious people, and that from his earliest years he
saw true Christianity both taught and exemplified in his own
home. The value of this rare privilege can hardly be overrated.
The seeds of a long life of service and usefulness were certainly

HIS DILIGENCE A T OXFORD. 1 5 i
sown by the Holy Ghost in this Hartlepool home. Romaine never
forgot this. In a letter written to a friend when he was seventy
years old, he uses the following expressions : " Mr. Whitefield
used often to put me in mind how singularly favoured I was.
He had none of his family converted ; while my father, mother,
and three sisters were like those blessed people of whom it is
written, 'Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus.' And
as they loved him again, so do we."
At the age of ten, Romaine was sent to a well-known grammar
school at Hough ton-le- Spring, in the county of Durham, founded
by the famous Bernard Gilpin at the time of the Protestant
Reformation. At this school he remained seven years. From
thence, in the year 1731, he was sent to Oxford ; and after first
entering Hertford College, was finally removed to Christ Church.
For the next six years he appears to have resided principally at
Oxford, until he took his degree as Master of Arts in October
1737- Of Romaine's manner of life at Oxford we know nothing,
except the fact that he was a hard reader, and had a high
reputation as a man of ability. Of his friends, companions, and
associates, we have no record. This at first sight seems some
what remarkable, when we remember that it was precisely at
this period that " Methodism," so-called, took its rise at the
University. In fact, it was just the time when John Wesley,
Charles Wesley, Whitefield, Ingham, and Hervey, were begin
ning to work for Christ in Oxford, and had formed a kind of
religious society. There is not, however, the slightest trace of
any communication between them and Romaine. The most
natural supposition is, that he was wholly absorbed in literary
pursuits, and allowed himself no time for other work. To this
we may add the fact, that the natural bent of his character
would probably incline him to keep by himself and stand
alone. The high character wliich he attained in the university, as a

IS2 HIS ORDINATION.
learned man, is clearly shown by an anecdote related of him by
his curate and successor, Mr. Goode, after his death. He says
in his funeral sermon : " Dress was never a foible of Mr.
Romaine's. His mind was superior to such borrowed ornaments.
Immersed in the noble pursuit of literature, before his conse
cration to a still more exalted purpose, he paid but little atten
tion to outward decoration. Being observed at Oxford, on one
occasion, to walk by rather negligently attired, a visitor inquired
of a friend, Master of one of the colleges: 'Who is that slovenly
person with his stockings down V The master replied : ' That
slovenly person, as you call him, is one of the greatest geniuses
of the age, and is likely to be one of the greatest men in the
kingdom.'" Commendation like this was, of course, somewhat exaggerated
and extravagant. But at any rate, there can be no doubt that
Romaine left Oxford a thorough scholar and a well-read man.
His worst enemies in after-life could never lay to his charge
that he was "unlearned and ignorant." They might dislike his
doctrinal views, but they could never deny that in any matter
of Hebrew, Greek, or Latin criticism, his opmion was entitled
to respect. Well would it be for the Churches, if in this respect
there were more evangelical ministers who walked in the steps
of Romaine. Grace and soundness in the faith, diligence and
personal piety, are undoubtedly the principal things. But
book-learning ought not to be despised. An ignorant and ill-
read ministry, in days of intellectual activity, must sooner or
later fall into contempt.
Romaine was ordained deacon at Hereford in 1736, by
Bishop Egerton; and priest in 1738, by the Bishop of Win
chester, the notorious Dr. Hoadley. The history of the first
eleven years of his ministerial life is involved in much uncer
tainty. I am unable to tell the reader who gave him a title for
orders, or why he was ordained at Hereford. I can only find
out that his first engagement was the curacy of Lewtrenchard,

CURATE OF BANSTEAD. IS3
near Okehampton, in Devonshire. He went there on a visit to
an Oxford friend, whose father lived at Lidford, and upon the
express condition that his friend should find him work. He
only remained here about six months. From Lewtrenchard he
removed into the diocese of Winchester, and was curate of
Banstead, near Epsom, for anything we can see, for an unbroken
period of ten years. Much of his after-course in life probably
hinged on this curacy. It was here that he became acquainted
with Sir Daniel Lambert, an alderman of London, who lived in
the parish, and was lord-mayor in 1741. He thought so highly
of Romaine that he appointed him his chaplain during the year
of his mayoralty — a circumstance which brought him into notice
as a preacher, both at St. Paul's Cathedral and in many other
London pulpits.
It is highly probable that the ten years which Romaine spent
at Banstead were years of deep study and literary pursuits. It
was at this time that he published two volumes in reply to
Warburton's " Divine Legation of Moses," in which he ably
controverted the main positions of that mischievous book. He
also prepared for the press a new edition of the Hebrew Con
cordance and Lexicon of Marius de Calasio, in four large
volumes — a work which required very close attention, and which
employed him no less than seven years. The small size of his
cure at Banstead no doubt left him abundant time for study ;
and this time was well spent. The extremely firm and unwa
vering position which he assumed on points of doctrine in after
life, may be traced in all probability to the quiet ten years
which he spent in his Surrey curacy. Foundation-stones are
often laid in a young minister's mind during his residence in-
such a position, which nothing in after-life can ever shake or
displace. One thing, at all events, is very certain, whatever else is
uncertain, about Romaine's ministerial beginnings. There
never seems to have been a period, from the time of his ordina-

1 5 4 PRE A CHES A T ST. PA UL 'S.
tion, when he did not preach clear, distinct, and unmistakable
evangelical doctrines. The truths of the glorious gospel appear
to have been applied to his heart by the Holy Spirit from the
days of his childhood at Hartlepool. From the very first he
was a well-instructed divine, and, unlike many clergymen, had
nothing to unlearn after he was ordained.
The proof of this may be seen in the sermon which he
preached in St. Paul's Cathedral, as chaplain to the Lord
Mayor, on September 2, 1741. At this time, it will be remem
bered, he was only twenty-seven years old. The title of this
sermon is, " No Justification by the Law of Nature," and the
text is Romans ii. 14, 15. Cadogan, his biographer, justly
remarks on this sermon : "Although we do not discover in this
discourse the same fertile experience, use, and application of the
truth as are to be found in his later writings, yet we discover
the same truth itself by which he was then made free from the
errors ofthe day, and in the enjoyment of which he lived and
died  The truth is, he was a believer possessed of that
unfeigned faith which dwelt in his father and mother before
him, and we are persuaded that it was in him also."
The second marked period in Romaine's ministerial life
extends from 1748 to 1766. Within this space of eighteen
years he met with some of his greatest trials, and filled many
different posts in the Lord's vineyard, but always in London.
I may add, that at no time in his life, perhaps, was he more
useful and more popular. He was in the full vigour of body
and mind, and enjoyed a reputation as a bold and uncompro
mising preacher of evangelical doctrine throughout the metro
polis, which few other living men equalled, and fewer still
surpassed. The first post that Romaine regularly occupied in London
was that of lecturer at St. Botolph's, Billingsgate. The circum
stances which led to his appointment were so singular that I
think it well to mention them. They supply an admirable

LECTURER OF ST. BOTOLPH'S. 155
illustration of the manner in which God works by his providence
in finding a right position for his people. It seems, then, to
have been Romaine's intention, after finishing his edition of
Calasio's Lexicon, to return to his native county, and to seek
employment near his home. In fact, he had actually packed
up his trunks, and sent them on board ship with this view. But
as he was going to the water-side, in order to secure his own
passage, he was met by a gentleman, an entire stranger to him,
who stopped and asked him if his name was Romaine. The
gentleman had formerly known his father, and was led to make
the inquiry by observing a strong resemblance to him in the
clergyman whom he met. After some conversation about his
family, this gentleman, who was a man of some influence in the
city, told him that the lectureship of St. Botolph's, Billingsgate,
was then vacant, and that if he liked to become a candidate for
the post, he would gladly exert his influence in his behalf.
Roniaine, seeing in this unexpected providence the finger of
God, at once consented, provided he was not obliged to canvass
the voters in person, a custom which he always thought incon
sistent with the office of a clergyman. The result was, that in
the autumn of 1748 he was chosen lecturer of St. Botolph's, and
commenced his long career as a London clergyman.
It is deeply instructive to observe in a case like this, how
God chooses the habitation of his people, and places them
where he knows it is best for them to be. Cadogan, Romaine's
excellent biographer, remarks on this part of his history : " A
settlement in the metropolis was the thing of all others which
he last thought of, and to which he was the least inclined.
From the bent of his genius to the study of nature, of minerals,
fossils, and plants, and the wonders of God in creation, a
country life, so favourable to these pursuits, would have been
chosen by him. But God chose otherwise for him ; and by a
circumstance trivial and accidental to appearance, but in realily
a turn of providence such as decides the condition of most men,

!S6 TROUBLES AT ST. DUNSTANS.
called him to a city-lectureship, and so detained him in London,
where he was kept to the end of his existence as a witness for
Jesus Christ, with abilities as truly suited to this meridian as
those of the Apostle Paul to the meridian of Ephesus, Corinth,
or Rome."
In the year 1749, he was chosen lecturer of St. Dunstan's in
the West — an appointment which brought down on him one of
the fiercest storms of persecution which he had to face in the
course of his ministry. The Rector of St. Dunstan's, for some
reason, disputed his right to the pulpit, and occupied it himself
during the time of prayers, in order to exclude him from it.
Romaine, in the meantime, appeared constantly in his place to
assert his claim to the lectureship, and his readiness to perform
the duties of the office. The affair was at length carried into
the Court of King's Bench, and after hearing the cause argued,
Lord Mansfield decided that Romaine was legally entitled to
the lectureship, and that seven o'clock in the evening was a
convenient time to preach the lecture.
Even then, however, the troubles of the lectureship were not
over. Cadogan says that even after Lord Mansfield's decision,
the churchwardens refused to open the doors of the church till
seven o'clock, and to light it when there was occasion. The
result was, that Romaine frequently read prayers and preached
by the light of a single candle, which he held in his own hand.
Besides this, as the church doors were kept shut until the precise
moment fixed for preaching the lecture, the congregation was
usually assembled in Fleet Street waiting for admission. The
consequence was a great concourse of people, collected in a
principal thoroughfare of the metropolis, and though not noisy
or disorderly, occasioning much inconvenience to those who
passed that way. This state of things actually continued for
some time. Happily for all parties, Dr. Terrick, Bishop of
London, who had once held the lectureship himself, happened
to pass through Fleet Street one evening when the congrega-

MORNING-PREACHER AT ST. GEORGE'S. 157
tion were waiting outside St. Dunstan's. Observing the crowd,
he asked the cause of it, and being told that it was Romaine's
congregation, he interfered with the rector and churchwardens
on their behalf, expressed great respect for the lecturer, and
obtained for him and his hearers that the service should begin
at six, that the doors should be opened in proper time, and
that lights should be provided in the winter season. From this
time forth Romaine continued in the quiet exercise of his
ministry at St. Dunstan's, without disturbance, and to the edifi
cation of many, to the end of his life. In fact, he held this
lectureship for no less than forty-six years, though it was only
worth eighteen pounds a-year !
In the year 1750, Romaine was appointed assistant morning-
preacher at St. George's, Hanover Square, and held the office
for five years. Of all the many pulpits which he occupied
during his long ministry, this was by far the most important.
Standing, as the church does, in an extremely prominent posi
tion in the west end of London, and well known as the mother-
church of the most fashionable quarter of the metropolis, it
opened up to him a great and effectual door of usefulness.
Romaine, in many respects, was just the man for the post.
His undeniable powers as a preacher attracted attention. His
well-known scholarship commanded respect even from those
who did not agree with him. And best of all, his bold, uncom
promising declarations of the real gospel of Christ, and plain
denunciations of fashionable sins, were precisely the message
which the Bible leads us to expect God will bless. It is not,
perhaps, too much to say, that from the day St. George's,
Hanover Square, was built, to this very day, it has never had
its pulpit so well filled on Sunday mornings as it was for five
years by Romaine.
The circumstances of the times in which he preached at St.
George's made his testimony peculiarly valuable and important.
A. cold heartless scepticism about all the leading truths of

I58 EARTHQUAKE A T LONDON.
Christianity prevailed widely among the upper and middle
classes of society. Bishop Butler had complained not long
before, that " many persons seemed to take it for granted that
Christianity was fictitious, and that nothing remained but to set
it up as a principal object of mirth and ridicule." That such
principles naturally produced the utmost profligacy, reckless
ness, and immorality of practice, no Bible reader will be sur
prised to hear. In fact, the utter ungodliness of the age was
so thorough that few living in the present day can have the
slightest conception of it. Against this ungodliness Romaine
boldly lifted up a standard, and blew the trumpet of the gospel
with no uncertain sound. He was in the highest sense a man
for the times, and he was exactly in the right place. Those
who would like to see how boldly and powerfully he delivered
his Master's message, would do well to read two sermons which
he delivered at St. George's, one of them entitled, " A Method
for Preventing the Frequency of Robberies and Murders;"
and the other, " A Discourse on the Self-Existence of Jesus
Christ." Just about the time that he was removed from the pulpit of
St. George's, the inhabitants of London were dreadfully fright
ened by two severe shocks of an earthquake. Happening simul
taneously with the awful earthquake which in a moment over
threw Lisbon and destroyed forty thousand persons, this event
caused great alarm. Thousands of persons fled to Hyde Park
and spent the night there. Hundreds crowded to the places of
worship where so-called Methodist doctrines were preached, and
anxiously sought consolation. Even Sherlock, Bishop of London,
thought it necessary to publish a Letter to his Diocese on the
subject, in which he exhorted the clergy " to awaken the people,
to call them from their lethargy, and make them see their own
danger." Here again Romaine was just the man for the occa
sion. He preached and printed two sermons, which even now
will amply repay perusal. One of them is called, " An Alarm

/. OSES HIS PRE A CHER SHIP. 1 5 9
to a Careless World ; " and the other, " The Duty of Watchful
ness Enforced." Delivered at the time they were, we cannot
doubt that they are specimens of the kind of sermons which
Romaine usually preached at that period of his ministry. I
think it impossible to read them without feeling deep regret
that the Church of England in the west end of London has not
had more of such preaching.
Romaine's ministry, as assistant morning -preacher at St.
George's, Hanover Square, began in April 1750 and ended in
September 1755. During that time he preached occasionally
at Bow Church, in exchange with Dr. Newton, afterwards Bishop
of Bristol ; and also at Curzon Chapel, then called St. George's,
Mayfair, in exchange with the Rector. The circumstances
under which he left St. George's are so remarkable that they
deserve special notice.
It appears that the office which he filled as assistant morning-
preacher was not a regularly endowed and independent ap
pointment, but one entirely dependent on the Rector, and kept
up at his own option, discretion, and expense. The Rector of
St. George's, who first invited Romaine to take the office, and
then at the end of five years removed him from it, was Dr.
Andrew Trebeck. His appointment was owing to his high
character and reputation, and not to personal friendship ; his
removal was caused by the popularity and plainness of his
ministry. The real truth was, that his preaching attracted such
crowds to the old parish-church, that the regular seat-holders
took offence, and complained that they were put to inconve
nience. Strong pressure was brought to bear upon the Rector ;
and he, " willing to please " the parishioners, gave Romaine
notice to terminate his engagement. This notice he received
quietly, saying, that "he was willing to relinquish the office,
hoping that his doctrine had been Christian, and owning the
inconvenience which had attended the parishioners." A more
discreditable affair than this probably never disfigured the

160 GRESHAM PROFESSOR OF ASTRONOMY.
parochial annals of the diocese of London. An eminent and
godly clergyman was removed from his post because he attracted
too many hearers ! And yet, at this very time, scores of clergy
men in London churches were no doubt preaching every week
to empty benches or to congregations of half-a-dozen people,
without any one interfering with them !
It is consolatory to think that there was one parishioner at
least in St. George's, Flanover Square, who made a noble pro
test against the treatment which Romaine received. This was
the old Earl of Northampton. He rebuked those who com
plained that the parish-church was crowded, by reminding them
that they bore the greater crowd of a ball-room, an assembly,
or a play-house, without the least complaint. " If," said he,
" the power to attract be imputed as a matter of admiration to
Garrick, why should it be urged as a crime against Romaine 1
Shall excellence be considered exceptionable only in divine
things 1 " — Another member of the congregation who is said to
have adhered steadfastly to Romaine's cause at this juncture,
was Mr. John Sanderson, afterwards state-coachman to George
III. This worthy man lived to the great age of eighty-nine,
and died in 1799, after long adorning the doctrine he professed
by an exemplary and godly life.
During the five years that Romaine was preaching at St.
George's, he occupied for a short time the situation of Pro
fessor of Astronomy at Gresham College. There is little record
extant of what he did in this office, and it is doubtful whether
he was very successful in it. In all probability he was a much
better theologian than an astronomer, and was better fitted for
lecturing about Christ and heaven than about the sun, moon,
and stars. But whatever credit he lost as a professor of astro
nomy, he retrieved a hundred-fold by his conduct about the
Bill for removing Jewish disabilities. This he thought it his
duty to oppose vehemently, to the great gratification of many
citizens of London. In fact, his arguments were so highly

MORNING-PREACHER AT ST. OLAVE'S, ETC. 161
esteemed, that his various letters on the subject were collected
into a pamphlet and reprinted by his friends in the City
in i753-
From the date of Romaine's removal from St. George's,
Hanover Square, until his, appointment to the Rectory of St.
Anne's, Blackfriars, we find him occupying several different
positions, and never long in any one. The only post which he
never vacated was the Lectureship of St. Dunstan's, Fleet
Street. In the beginning of 1756 he became curate and morn
ing-preacher at St. Olave's, Southwark. He continued in this
office until the year 1759, residing most of the time in Walnut
Tree Walk, Lambeth. After leaving St. Olave's, he was morn
ing-preacher for two years at St. Bartholomew the Great, near
West Smithfield. From thence he removed to Westminster
Chapel, but only preached there six months. The abrupt
termination of his engagement there was occasioned by a fresh
piece of persecution. The Dean and Chapter of Westminster
withdrew their patronage and protection from the chapel, and
refused him their nomination for a licence to preach there.
From this time he had no stated employment in the Church,
except the Lectureship of St. Dunstan's, until he was chosen
Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1766.
We must not, however, suppose for a moment that Romaine
was an idle man during the years when he had no settled
employment in the morning of Sundays. He appears to have
been constantly preaching charity sermons in London churches ;
for which purpose, from his great popularity, his services were
eagerly sought after. He also preached very frequently at the
chapel of the Lock Hospital, upon the first institution of that
charity. At this period of his life he was several times called upon to
preach before the University of Oxford. This, however, came
to an end after he had preached two sermons, entitled, " The
Lord our Righteousness," on Marcii 20, 1757, in St. Mary's.
(195) 11

1 62 GIVES GREAT OFFENCE.
These sermons gave great offence, and he was never allowed
to enter the University pulpit again after delivering them. They
are to be found among his published works at the present day,
and furnish a melancholy proof of the spiritual darkness in
which Oxford was sunk a hundred years ago ! The governing
body of an University which could exclude a man from its
pulpit for preaching such doctrine as these sermons contain,
must indeed have been in a miserably benighted state of mind.
Romaine's dedication of them to Dr. Randolph, President of
Corpus Christi, and Vice-chancellor of the University, is well
worth reading. He says, " When I delivered these discourses
I had no design to make them public ; but I have been since
compelled to it. I understand they gave great offence, espe
cially to you, and I am in consequence thereof refused the uni
versity pulpit. In justice, not to myself, for I desire to be out
of the question, but to the great doctrine here treated of, namely,
the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ, as the only ground
of our acceptance and justification before God the Father, I
have sent to the press what was delivered from the pulpit. I
leave the friends of our Church to judge, whether there be any
thing herein advanced contrary to the Scriptures and to the
doctrines of the Reformation. If not, I am safe. If there be,
you are bound to make it appear. You have a good pen, and
have great leisure ; make use of them ; and I hope and pray
you may make use of them for your good and mine.'' Com
ment on the whole affair is needless. The treatment which
Romaine received at Oxford was as little creditable to the Uni
versity as that which he received in the west end of London
was to the parishioners of St. George's, Hanover Square.
It was about this period of his life that Romaine became in
timate with the well-known Lady Huntingdon, who made him
one of her domestic chaplains. In this capacity he used to
pre h frequently at her house, both in London and near
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and at the various chapels, or preaching-

RECTOR OF ST. ANNE'S. 163
houses, which she built at Brighton, Bath, and elsewhere. To
her friendship, indeed, he was finally indebted for his appoint
ment to the Rectory of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in the fifty-second
year of his age. The circumstances, however, of his appoint
ment to this post, the history of his twenty-nine years' ministry
in it, and some account of his writings, letters, and character,
are matters which I shall reserve for another chapter.

CHAPTER II.
Rector of St. Anne's, Blackfriars, 1764 — Difficulties in the way of his Appointment — •
Letter to Lady Huntingdon — Usefulness at Blackfriars — Peculiarities of Address
and Temperament — Last Illness and Dying Saying — Death r795 — Public Funeral —
Literary Remains.
The biographer of William Romaine can hardly fail to observe
that his life naturally divides itself into three portions. The
first extends from his birth to the commencement of his London
ministry in 1746. The second ranges from 1746 to his final
settlement at St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1764. The third com
prises his ministry at Blackfriars, up to the time of his death
in 1795. It is this third and last portion of his history which
I propose to deal with in this chapter.
Romaine's appointment to the rectory of St. Anne's, Black
friars, took place at a very critical period in his ministerial life.
He was now about fifty years old. After preaching as a lec
turer in London for eighteen years, he was still without a stated
position as the incumbent of a parish. Every door seemed
shut against him. Opposition and persecution followed him
wherever he went. It seemed, in short, a question whether he
had not better give up London altogether, and turn his steps
elsewhere. Lord Dartmouth offered him a living in the
country. Whitefield urged him to accept a large church at
Philadelphia, in America. Hot-headed friends pressed him to
let them build him a chapel. It seemed far from improbable

164 HIS LOVE FOR THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
that he might fulfil the predictions of his enemies, and end by
leaving the Church of England and becoming a regular
dissenter. But Romaine had a very deep sense of the value of the
Church of England. He loved her Articles and Prayer-Book
with no common love. Whatever her defects in administra
tion, and however ill she treated her best children, he believed
that the occupant of her pulpits had peculiar advantages ; and
he steadfastly refused to leave her. He was catholic, and kind,
and liberal to those who were not churchmen, and lived in
habits of friendly communion with many of them. To this
even John Wesley, Arminian as he was, bears strong testimony.
In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, in 1763, he says, " Mr. Romaine
has shown a truly sympathizing spirit, and acted like a brother."
But nothing could induce him to give up his own position and
become a Nonconformist. At this juncture he was greatly
strengthened in his determination by the advice of that excel
lent clergyman, Walker of Truro. He resolved to stick by the
Church in which he had been ordained, and to wait patiently
for some door to be opened. His patience was at length re
warded. By a singular train of providences, he became rector
of an important parish in the City, and there spent the last
twenty-nine years of his life in the undisturbed exercise of his
ministry. The circumstances under which Romaine was appointed to
his new sphere of duty were somewhat remarkable. The
patronage of the united parish of St. Andrew by the Wardrobe
with St. Anne's, Blackfriars, is vested in the Lord-Chancellor
and the parishioners alternately. The immediate predecessor
of Romaine was Mr. Henley, nephew of the then Lord-Chan
cellor Henley. He only held the living about six years, and
died of putrid fever, caught in visiting a parishioner. Upon
his death the appointment fell to the turn of the parishioners ;
and at once some friends of Romaine, without his knowledge

PROB A TIONAR Y SERMON. 165
and consent, resolved to nominate him as a candidate for the
vacant living. It was soon found that at least two-thirds of the
parishioners were in his favour ; and though he refused to can
vass for votes himself, his interest was warmly supported by
Lady Huntingdon, Mr. Thornton, and Mr. Madan.
There were two 'other candidates beside Romaine, and in
accordance with the custom on such occasions, he was called
on to preach a probationary sermon before the parishioners.
This sermon, preached on September 30, 1764, from 2 Cor.
iv. 5, is to be found among his printed works, and is credit
able both to his heart and head. One part of it, in which he
assigned his reason for not canvassing the electors in person,
deserves particular notice. He says, —
" Some have insinuated that it was from pride that I would not
go about the parish, from house to house, canvassing for votes;
but truly it was from another motive, — I could not see how this
could promote the glory of God. How can it be for the
honour of Jesus that his ministers, who have renounced fame,
riches, and ease, should be most anxious and earnest in the
pursuit of those very things which they have renounced 1
Surely this would be getting into a worldly spirit, as much as
the spirit of parliamenteering. And as this method of can
vassing cannot be for Jesus' sake, so neither is it for our honour;
it is far beneath our function : nor is it for your profit. What
good is it to your souls — what compliment to your under
standing — what advantage to you, in any shape, to be directed
and applied to by every person with whom you have any con
nection, or on whom you have any dependence ? Is not this
depriving you of the freedom of your choice 1 Determined by
these motives, when my friends, of their own accord, put me
up as a candidate, to whom I have to this hour made no appli
cation, directly or indirectly, I left you to yourselves. If you
choose me, I desire to be your servant for Jesus' sake ; and if
you do not, the will of the Lord be done."

166 DIFFICULTIES AND OPPOSITION OVERCOME.
It deserves notice that this sermon did the preacher's cause
no harm, but rather operated in his favour. It was well
received by the parishioners, and was published at their
request. Notwithstanding the strong support Romaine received, his
appointment was not finally secured without great difficulty and
opposition. A hotly contested election, a poll, a scrutiny and
an appeal to the Court of Chancery, interposed between the
first movement of his friends and the final accomplishment of
their wishes. At length, after eighteen months' delay, all ob
stacles were overcome, a decree was given in his favour by Lord
Henley, and he was instituted and inducted rector of St. Anne's,
Blackfriars, in February 1766. No one, perhaps, throughout
this anxious period of suspense, worked more heartily in his
behalf than Lady Huntingdon. She saw clearly the immense
importance of such a champion of Christ's gospel being settled
in a prominent position in London ; and she left no stone un
turned to secure his success. Help, too, was raised up in some
quarters of a most unexpected kind. A publican in the parish
is said to have been one of his most active supporters and can
vassers ; and at first no one could understand the reason. But
after all was over, on Romaine's calling on him to thank him,
the worthy publican replied, " Indeed, sir, I am more indebted
to you than you to me ; for you have made my wife, who was
one of the worst, the best woman in the world."
Romaine entered on his new sphere with a very deep sense
of his own insufficiency. He who intended him to be a wise
master-builder, taught him to lay a sound foundation of self-
abasement and humility. His own letters on the occasion of
his election give a very graphic picture of his feelings.
In one he says : " My friends are rejoicing all around me,
and wishing me a joy that I cannot take. It is my Master's
will, and I submit. He knows best what is for his own glory
and his people's good ; and I am certain he makes no mistakes

LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 167
on either of these points. But my head hangs down upon the
occasion, through the awful apprehension which I ever had of
the care of souls. I am frightened to think of watching over
two or three thousands, when it is work enough to watch over
one. The plague of my own heart almost wearies me to
death ; what can I do with so vast a number ?"
In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, of the same date, he says :
" Now, when I was setting up my rest, and had begun to say
unto my soul, Soul, take thine ease, I am called into a public
station, and to the sharpest engagement, just as I had got into
winter quarters. I can see nothing before me, so long as breath
is in my body, but war; and that with unreasonable men, a
divided parish, an angry clergy, and a wicked world, all to be
resisted and overcome. Besides all these, a sworn enemy,
subtle and cruel, with whom I can make no peace — no, not a
moment's time, night and day-. — with all his children and his
host, is aiming at my destruction. ¦ When I take counsel of the
flesh I begin to faint ; but when I go to the sanctuary, I see
my good cause, and my almighty Master and true Friend, and
then he makes my courage revive. Although I am no way fit
for the work, yet he called me to it, and on him I depend for
strength to do it, and for success to crown it. I utterly de
spair of doing anything as of myself, and therefore the more
I have to do, the more I shall be forced to Jive by faith on
Him. In this view I hope to get a great income by my
living. I shall want Jesus more, and shall get closer to him."
Whatever anticipations of trouble Romaine inay have formed
in his mind, he met with comparatively little at Blackfriars.
In fact, his .twenty-nine years' ministry there, cqmpared to his
earlier days, was a season of quietness. Enemies and oppo
nents no doubt he had, like every faithful clergyman who
preaches the gospel. But they could do little to disturb him.
The result was that the latter years of his life, though not
less useful than the former, were certainly less eventful. Like

168 USEFULNESS A T BLA CKFRIARS.
the river that at first dashes brawling down the mountain-side,
but glides silently along when it reaches the plains and becomes
navigable, so Romaine's ministry from the time of his settle
ment at Blackfriars, though it made less noise, was probably
more beneficial to the Church of Christ. He necessarily
became less of an itinerant and missionary preacher. The
claims of his own parish and pulpit obliged him to stay much
at home, and absorbed much of his time and attention. But
his usefulness, whatever some hasty judges might think, was
not only not diminished, but was probably much increased.
The plain truth is, that as rector of a London parish, Romaine
became a rallying point for all in London who loved evangelical
truth in the Church of England. Man after man, and family
after family, gathered round his pulpit, until his congregation
became the nucleus of a vast amount of good in the metro
polis. His constant, unflinching declaration of Christ's whole
truth insensibly produced a powerful impression on men's
minds, and made them understand what a true clergyman of
the Church of England ought to be. His undeniable learning
made him an adversary that few cared to cope with, and
gave a weight to his assertions which they did not always pos
sess when they came from the lips of half-educated men. His
position gave him peculiar advantages. Almost within sight
both of St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, he held a post from
which he was always ready to go forth and do battle, either
with tongue or pen. If error arose rampant, he was on the
spot prepared to attack it. If truth was assaulted, he was
equally prepared to sally forth and defend it. In short, the
good that he did, as rector of Blackfriars, though less showy,
was probably more solid and permanent than the good that he
did all the rest of his life.
To attempt to chronicle all the events of his life during his
twenty-nine years at Blackfriars would be of little use, even if
we possessed materials for doing it. From the very beginning

HIS ADDRESS AND TEMPERAMENT. 1 69
of his incumbency, he took great pains to have the services of
his church conducted with strict reverence and good order.
Like many other clergymen, he never rested till he had put the
fabric of his church in good repair, had built a good parsonage,
and made the parochial schools thoroughly efficient. These
things once accomplished, he gave himself entirely to the
direct work of his office. He was never idle, and seldom
passed a silent Sabbath. Preaching, visiting, writing for the
press, or corresponding with the many who asked his advice,
occupied nearly all his time to his life's end.
He was not perhaps what would be called now-a-days a
" genial" man. He was " naturally close and reserved," says
Cadogan, " irritable to a certain degree, short and quick in
his replies, and frequently mistaken as being rude and morose
where he meant nothing of the kind. Had he paid more
attention than he did to the various distresses of soul and body
which were brought before him, he would have had no time
left for reading, meditation, and prayer, and, in short, for
what every man must attend to in private who would be use
ful in public. It was not uncommon for him to tell those
who came to him with cases of conscience and questions of
spiritual concern, that he said all he had to say in the pul
pit. Thus people might be hurt for the moment by such a dis
missal, but they had only to attend his preaching, and they
soon found that their difficulties had impressed him as well
as themselves ; that they had been submitted to God, and that
they had been the subject of his serious and affectionate con
sideration." These observations of Cadogan's deserve special attention.
Romaine, unhappily, is not the only minister whose reputation
has suffered from gross misrepresentation and misconstruction.
Few men, unfortunately, are so liable to be unfairly judged as
ministers who fill prominent posts, and are eminent for gifts
and graces. Even Christians are too ready to set them down

17° ANECDOTES OF ROMAINE.
as haughty, proud, cold, distant, reserved, and unsocial, without
any just ground for so doing. The immense demands con
tinually made on their time and strength, the many private
difficulties they frequently have to contend with, the absolute
necessity they are under of much daily reading, meditation, and
communion with God — all these things are too often entirely
forgotten. Many indeed are the wounds of feeling which minis
ters have to endure from the unkind remarks of unreasonable
friends. The cup which Romaine had to drink is a cup which
many clergymen have to drink in the present day.
The few anecdotes preserved about Romaine are all some
what characteristic of the man as Cadogan describes him.
They all give the idea of one who was short and abrupt to an
extreme in his communications ; so much so, in fact, that we
can quite understand captious people being offended by him.
And yet the anecdotes always tend to prove that he was a man
of no common graces, gifts, and good sense.
He was one evening invited to a friend's house, and, after
tea, the lady of the house asked him to play at cards, to which
he made no objection. The cards were brought out, and when
all were ready to begin playing, Romaine said, f< Let us ask
the blessing of God." "Ask the blessing of God!" sai4 the
lady in great surprise ; " I never heard of such a thing before a
game of cards." Romaine then inquired, " Ought we to engage
in anything on which we cannot ask God's blessing?" This
reproof put an end to the card-playing.
On another occasion he was addressed by a lady, who ex
pressed the great pleasure she had enjoyed under his preaching,
and added that she could comply with his requirements, with
the exception of one thing. "And what is that?" asked Ro
maine. " Cards, sir," was the reply. " You think you could
not be happy without them?" " No, sir, I know I could not."
" Then, madam." said he, " cards are your god, and they must
save you." It is recorded that this pointed remark led to

THE DISSENTING MINISTER. 1 7 1
serious reflections, and finally to the abandonment of card-
playing. When the unhappy Dr. Dodd was sentenced to death for
forgery, Romaine, among others, felt a deep and melancholy
interest about him. There was once a time when he and Dodd
had been on terms of intimacy, from their common zeal for
the prosecution of Hebrew learning. When, however, poor
Dodd began to love the world better than Christ, the intimacy
gradually ceased, and he actually told Romaine that he hoped
he would not acknowledge him if they met in public ! Before
his execution, Romaine visited him in Newgate at his particular
request, and many were anxious to know what he thought of
the prisoner's spiritual state. But the only answer that could
be extracted from him was this : " I hope he may be a real
penitent; but there is a great difference between saying, ' God
be merciful to me a sinner,' and really feeling it."
Short and abrupt as the rector of Blackfriars evidently was in
his demeanour, he was very sensible of his own deficiencies of
temper, and very willing to confess himself in the wrong. On
one occasion a dissenting minister who often attended his lec
tures, called on him to complain of some severe reflections
which he thought Romaine had made upon Dissenters. Having
made his complaint, Romaine replied, " I do not want to have
anything to say to you, sir." — " If you will hear me," added the
other, " I will tell you my name and profession. I am a Pro
testant dissenting minister." — " Sir," said Romaine, " I neither
wish to know your name nor your profession," Upon this the
unfortunate Nonconformist bowed and took his leave. Not
long after Romaine, to the great surprise of his hearer and
reprover, returned the visit, and after the usual salutation, be
gan : " Well, Mr. T, I am not come to renounce my principles,
I have not changed my sentiments, I will not give up my
preference for the Church of England ; but I am come as a
Christian to make some apology. I think my behaviour to you

172 HIS LATTER YEARS.
sir, the other day, was not becoming, nor such as it should have
been." They then shook hands, and parted good friends.
Romaine's last illness found him still doing his Father's
business, and happy in his work. He lived to the great age of
eighty-one, and enjoyed the full use of his faculties to the very
last. During the last ten years of his life he seems to have
become greatly mellowed and softened, and to have been a
beautiful example of that lovely sight, a godly old man, "a
hoary head found in the way of righteousness." He went
gradually down the valley toward the river, with all the golden
richness of a setting sun in summer. There appeared to be
little but heaven in his sermons or in his life ; and, like dying
Baxter, he spoke of his future home with great familiarity, like
one who had already seen it.
It was well remarked by some of his friends, in these last
days of his ministry, that he was a true diamond, naturally rough
and pointed, but the more he was broken by years the more he
appeared to shine. There was often a light upon his coun
tenance — and particularly when he preached — which looked
like the dawn, or a faint appearance of glory. If any one asked
him how he did, his general answer was, "As well as I can be
out of heaven." He made this reply, shortly before his death,
to a friend of a different communion, and then added, " There
is but one central point, in which we must all meet — Jesus
Christ and him crucified." This was the object which he
always kept in sight — the wonderful God-man, whom, according
to his own words, " He had taken for body and for soul, for
time and for eternity, his present and everlasting all."
Romaine's simple and regular habits of life, no doubt, had
much to say to his length of days and vigorous old age. There
are ministers, unquestionably, who seem independent of regular
food and hours, and whose iron constitutions appear to stand
any strain. But their number is small. Of Romaine, Cadogan
says, " His hour of breakfast was six in the morning ; of dinner,

HIS LAST SERMONS. 1 73
half-past one in the afternoon; and of supper, seven in the even
ing. His family were assembled to prayer at nine o'clock in
the morning, and at the same hour at night. His Hebrew
Psalter was his constant companion at breakfast, and he often
said how much his first repast was sanctified by the Word of
God and prayer. From ten o'clock to one he was generally
employed in visiting the sick and friends. He retired to his
study after dinner, and sometimes walked again after supper in
summer. After evening service in his family, he retired again
to his study, and to his bed at ten. From this mode of living
he never deviated, except when he was a guest in the house of
friends ; and then he breakfasted at seven, dined at two, and
supped at eight. His adherence to rules, in this respect, was
never more marked than in a circumstance which happened
during the last years of his life. He was invited by an eminent
dignitary of the Church to dine with him at five o'clock. He
felt respect for the inviter, and wished to show it. Instead,
therefore, of sending a written apology, he waited upon him
himself, thanked him for the invitation, and excused himself by
pleading his long habits of early hours, his great age, and his
often infirmities."
Romaine's death-bed was a beautiful illustration of the truth
of John Wesley's saying, " Our people die well ! The world
may find fault with our opinions, but the world cannot deny
that our people die well." This was eminently the case with
Romaine. His fatal illness attacked him on Saturday, the 6th
ofJune 1795, and put an end to his life on the 26th of July.
The last sermon which he preached was on the preceding
Thursday evening at St. Dunstan's. It was an exposition of
the eighteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel; and he remarked
to his curate that he must get on as fast as he could, lest he
should not get through the Gospel before the lectures closed
for the summer. His concluding sermon at Blackfriars was on
the preceding Tuesday morning, from the thirteenth verse of

1 7 4 HIS LAST ILLNESS.
the 103rd Psalm — "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the
Lord pitieth them that fear him." These dates are worthy of
special notice. This fine old servant of Christ, at the age of
eighty-one, was evidently preaching at least three days in every
week !
From the moment he was seized with his illness, he con
sidered it to be his last ; and though he had occasional
symptoms of recovery during the seven weeks that his illness
continued, he never entered the pulpit again. He spoke of
himself as a dying man, but always as one that had peace
in believing. On the morning of his seizure he came down to
breakfast as usual, in the house at Balham Hill, where he was
staying, and presided in family devotion. It was observed that
he prayed most earnestly to God that " he would fit them for,
and support them in their trials that day, which might be many."
He returned the same day to his own house in London, and
conversed most profitably and comfortably in the way, on the
approach of death and near prospect of eternity. He said,
" How animating is the view which I have now of death, and
the hope laid up for me in heaven, full of glory and immor
tality !" On arriving at home his last illness struck him.
He continued at his own house in London under medical
advice for three weeks, and used all the means which his physi
cian thought fit to prescribe. But he said, "You are taking
much pains to prop up this feeble body ; I thank you for it :
it will not do now." His Hebrew Psalter lay close by him,
and out of it he frequently read a verse or two, not being able
to attend to more. From the nature of his illness he could
speak but little ; and being once asked if he would see some of
his friends, he replied, " He needed no better company than he
enjoyed." " On the 26th of June," says his biographer, Cadogan, " he
left town, and went to a friend's house at Tottenham for a
fortnight, where he was so much better that he was able to

HIS D YING SA YINGS. l 7 5
walk about the garden. Upon his return to town, he told his
curate that he had laid long in the arms of death, and if re
covering, it was very slowly. ' But,' said he, ' this is but a poor
dying life at best ; however, I am in His hands who will do the
best for me ; I am sure of that. I have lived to experience all
I have spoken and all I have written, and I bless God for it.' —
To another friend he said, ' I have the peace of God in my
conscience, and the love of God in my heart ; and that, you
know, is sound experience. I knew before that the doctrines I
preached were truths, but now I experience them to be bless
ings.' — Thanking another friend for a visit, he told him ' that
he had come to see a saved sinner.' — This he often affirmed
should be his dying breath; he desired to die with the lan
guage of the publican in his mouth — ' God be merciful to me
a sinner !' "
He continued in London for a few days in this blessed frame
of mind, and then returned on the 13th of July to the house of
his friend, Mr. Whitridge, at Balham Hill, where he had been
the day that he was first taken ill. From this date his strength
rapidly decayed, but his faith and patience never failed him.
He was often saying, " How good is God ! What comforts
does he give me ! What a prospect do I see before me of glory
and immortality ! He is my God in life, in death, and through
out eternity." On the 23rd of July, as he sat at breakfast, he
said, " It is now nearly sixty years since God opened my mouth
to publish the everlasting sufficiency and eternal glory of the
salvation in Christ Jesus ; and it has now pleased him to shut
my mouth, that my heart might feel and experience what my
mouth has so often spoken."
On the 24th of July, after being helped down-stairs for the
last time, he said, " Oh, how good is God ! With what a night
has he favoured me !" requesting at the same time that prayer
without ceasing might be made for him, that his faith and
patience might not fail. He spoke with great kindness and

176 HIS DEATH.
affection of his wife ; and, thanking her for all her care of him,
said, " Come, my love, that I may bless you : the Lord be with
you a covenant God for ever to save and bless you ! " — Mrs.
Whitridge, in whose house he was dying, on seeing and hearing
him bless his wife, said, " Have you not a blessing for me, sir?"
" Yes," he replied ; " I pray God to bless you." And so he
said to every one that came to him.
On Saturday the 25 th of July he was not able to get down
stairs, but lay upon a couch all day, in great weakness of body,
but strong in faith, giving glory to God, and the power of Christ
resting on him. Towards the close of the day some thought
they heard him say, " Though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." —
About an hour before his death, Mr. Whitridge, his host and
friend, said, " I hope, my dear sir, you now find the salvation
of Jesus Christ precious, dear, and valuable to you." His answer
was, " He is a precious Saviour to me now." These were the
last words he spoke to man. To the Lord he was heard to
say, " Holy ! holy ! holy ! blessed Jesus ! to thee be endless
praise !" About midnight, as the Sabbath began, he breathed
his last, and entered that eternal rest which remains for the
people of God. Well saith the Scriptures, " Mark the perfect
man, and behold the upright : for the end of that man is peace"
(Ps. xxxvii. 37).
Romaine's friends and relations had fully intended to give
him a private funeral. But this proved impossible. The many
hearers of a minister who had preached the gospel in London
for forty-five years could not be prevented showing their respect
and affection by following him to the grave. Scores looked up
to him as their spiritual father. Hundreds venerated his char
acter and consistency, even though they did not fully embrace
the gospel he had preached. The consequence was that his
funeral, in spite of all wishes and intentions, was a peculiarly
public one. Fifty coaches followed the hearse from Clapham

PUBLIC FUNERAL. 177
Common, besides many persons on foot. By the time the
procession reached the obelisk in St. George's Fields, the mul
titude collected was very great indeed ; but silence, solemnity,
and decorum prevailed. At the foot of Blackfriars' Bridge the
city marshals were waiting with their men in black silk scarfs
and hatbands, and rode before the hearse to the entrance of
the church. They had been ordered out by the lord mayor, as
his token of respect for the memory of a man whose character
had stood so high in the city of London. Thus went to his
long home on August 3rd, 1795, amidst every outward mark of
respect and affection, the venerable rector of Blackfriars. At
the end of his long forty-five years' ministry no one lifted up his
tongue against him. The winds and waves of persecution had
at length ceased. He had fairly lived down all opposition, and
he died honoured and lamented. So true is that word of Scrip
ture, " When a man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even
his enemies to be at peace with him" (Prov. xvi. 7).
Romaine was once married, though rather later in life than
many ministers. His wife was a Miss Price, and, as we have
already seen, she survived him. He had children, of whom one
son died at Trincomalee in 1782, to his great sorrow. Another
son was with him in his last illness, of whom he spoke with
great affection, expressing his hope of him as a son in the faith,
as well as a son in the flesh. Of his other children I can find
no account.
Most of Romaine's literary works are so well known that I
need not trouble my readers with any account of them. His
largest work, " The Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith," has
been often reprinted, and holds a respectable position among
English evangelical classics. His " Twelve Sermons on the
Law and the Gospel" have also been more than once repub
lished, and in my judgment deservedly so. I regard it as the
best and most valuable work he ever sent to the press. His
expository sermons on the 107th Psalm and on Solomon's Song
(195) 12

1 7 8 HIS LITER A R Y REMAINS.
are not so well known as they ought to be. The latter espe
cially throws more light on a most difficult book of Scripture
than many works of much higher pretensions. His single ser
mons are of course very little known. But no one who wants
to get a just idea of the kind of preacher Romaine was, should
omit to read them. For simplicity, pith, point, and forcible-
ness, — for short, true, vigorous sentences, — they will bear a
favourable comparison with almost any evangelical sermons of
the last century.
Many of his letters in his published correspondence are very
valuable. Like John Newton, he wrote in days when the
modern machinery of societies, committee meetings, Exeter Hall
gatherings, &c, was totally unknown, and when a man had
more leisure to write long letters than he has now. Those who
like reading Newton's " Cardiphonia" and " Omicron," would
find Romaine's correspondence well worth perusing. Christ
and the Bible are the two golden threads which seem to run
through all his letters.
Perhaps, after all, one of the most useful publications that
Romaine ever sent forth is one that is hardly known at all. I
may be wrong, but my firm belief is, that my estimate of its
usefulness will be found correct at the last day. The publica
tion I refer to is called " An Earnest Invitation to the Friends of
the Established Church to join with several of their brethren,
clergy and laity, in London, in setting apart an hour of every
week for Prayer and Supplication during the present trouble
some limes." There is strong reason to believe that this little
publication was made eminently useful when it first appeared,
and has led to an amazing succession of supplications, inter
cessions, and prayers down to the present day. It was beyond
all doubt a move in the right direction. It sent men to Him
who alone has all hearts in his hands, and alone can revive his
Church in dead times. Who can tell but that much of the
Spirit's work in the last sixty years will be found at last to have

RETROSPECT OF HIS LIFE. 179
been the answer to Romaine's prayers ? One fact, at any rate,
deserves to be specially remembered. When Romaine first sent
forth this Invitation in 1757, he only knew about a dozen cler
gymen in all England who were willing to unite with him, and
join his scheme of prayer. But when he died, in 1795, he
reckoned that the number of like-minded men in the Establish
ment had swelled to at least three hundred. That fact alone
speaks for itself.
I leave the fourth spiritual hero of the eighteenth century
here, and ask my readers to give his name the honour that it
deserves. He had not all the popular gifts of some of his con
temporaries. He had not the genial attractive characteristics
of many in his day. But take him for all in all, he was a great
man, and a mighty instrument in God's hand for good. He
stood in a most prominent position in London for forty-five
years, testifying the gospel of the grace of God, and never
flinching for a day. He stood alone, with almost no backers,
supporters, or fellow-labourers. He stood in the same place,
constantly preaching to the same hearers, and not able, like
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, and other itinerant brethren, to
preach old sermons. He stood there witnessing to truths which
were most unpopular, and brought down on him opposition,
persecution, and scorn. He stood in a most public post, con
tinually watched, observed, and noticed by unfriendly eyes,
ready to detect faults in a moment if he committed them. Yet,
during all these forty-five years, he maintained a blameless
character, firmly upheld his first principles to the last, and died
at length, like a good soldier at his post, full of days and honour.
The man of whom these things can be said must have been no
common man. It is place and position that specially prove
what we are. In England one hundred years ago there were
not four spiritual champions greater and more honourable than
William Romaine.

VII.
ganicl fiolulanus m\b bis Utimsirg.

CHAPTER I.
Born in Wales 1713 — Educated at Hereford, and never at a University — Ordained r733 —
Curate of Llangeitho — An Altered Man in 1738 — Extraordinary Effect of his Preaching
— Extra -parochial and Out-door Preaching — License Withdrawn by the Bishop in
r703 — Continues to Preach in a Chapel at Llangeitho — Died 1790 — Account of his
Portrait. |NE of the greatest spiritual champions of the last cen
tury, whom I wish to introduce to my readers in this
chapter, is one who is very little known. The man
I mean is the Rev. Daniel Rowlands of Llangeitho in Cardi
ganshire. Thousands of my countrymen, I suspect, have some
little acquaintance with Whitefield, Wesley, and Romaine, who
never even heard the name of the great apostle of Wales.
That such should be the case need not surprise us. Rowlands
was a Welsh clergyman, and seldom preached in the English
language. He resided in a very remote part of the Princi
pality, and hardly ever came to London. His ministry was
almost entirely among the middle and lower classes in about
five counties in Wales. These circumstances alone are enough
to account for the fact that so few people know anything about
him. Whatever the causes may be, there are not many English
men who understand Welsh, or can even pronounce the names
of the parishes where Rowlands used to preach. In the face

DANIEL ROWLANDS, THE WELSH PREACHER. 181
of these circumstances, we have no right to be surprised if his
reputation has been confined to the land of his nativity.
In addition to all this, we must remember that no biographical
account of Rowlands was ever drawn up by his contemporaries.
Materials for such an account were got together by one of his
sons, and forwarded to Lady Huntingdon. Her death, un
fortunately, immediately afterwards, prevented these materials
being used, and what became of them after her death has never
been ascertained. The only memoirs of Rowlands are two
lives, written by clergymen who are still living. They are
both excellent and useful in their way, but of course they labour
under the disadvantage of having been drawn up long after the
mighty subject of them had passed away.* These two volumes,
and some very valuable information which I have succeeded in
obtaining from a kind correspondent in Wales, are the only
mines of matter to which I have had access in drawing up this
memoir. Enough, however, and more than enough, is extant, to prove
that Daniel Rowlands, in the highest sense, was one of the
spiritual giants of the last century. It is a fact that Lady
Huntingdon, no mean judge of clergymen, had the highest
opinion of Rowlands. Few people had better opportunities of
forming a judgment of preachers than she had, and she thought
Rowlands was second only to Whitefield. It is a fact that no
British preacher of the last century kept together in one district
such enormous congregations of souls for fifty years as Row
lands did. It is a fact, above all, that no man a hundred years
ago seems to have preached with such unmistakable power of
the Holy Ghost accompanying him as Rowlands. These are
great isolated facts that cannot be disputed. Like the few
* The memoirs of Rowlands to which I refer are two small volumes by the Rev. John
Owen, Rector of Thrussington, and the Rev. E. Morgan, Vicar of Syston, both in the
county of Leicester. The private information which I have received has been supplied by
a relative of the great Welsh apostle, though not in lineal descent, the Rev. William Row
lands of Fishguard, South Wales. Some few facts, it may be interesting to my readers to
know, come from an old man of eighty-live, who, when a boy, heard Rowlands preach.

i»2 BORN AT PANT- Y-BEUDY.
scattered bones of extinct mammoths and mastodons, they
speak volumes to all who have an ear to hear. They tell us
that, in considering and examining Daniel Rowlands, we are
dealing with no common man.
Daniel Rowlands was born in the year 17 13, at Pant-y-beudy
in the parish of Llancwnlle, near Llangeitho, Cardiganshire.
He was the second son of the Rev. Daniel Rowlands, rector of
Llangeitho, by Jennet, his wife. When a child of three years
old, he had a narrow escape of death, like John Wesley. A
large stone fell down the chimney on the very spot where he
had been sitting two minutes before, which, had he not pro
videntially moved from his place, must have killed him.
Nothing else is known of the first twenty years of his life,
except the fact that he received his education at Hereford
Grammar School, and that he lost his father when he was
eighteen years old. It appears, from a tablet in Llangeitho
Church, that when Rowlands was born, his father was fifty-four
and his mother forty-five years old. His father's removal could
not therefore have been a premature event, as he must have
attained the ripe age of seventy-two.
From some cause or other, of which we can give no account,
Rowlands appears to have gone to no University. His father's
death may possibly have made a difference in the circumstances
of the family. At any rate, the next fact we hear about him
after his father's death, is his ordination in London at the early
age of twenty, in the year 1733. He was ordained by letters
dimissory from the Bishop of St. David's, and it is recorded, as
a curious proof both of his poverty and his earnestness of
character, that he went to London on foot.
The title on which Rowlands was ordained was that of curate
to his elder brother John, who had succeeded his father, and
held the three adjacent livings of Llangeitho, Llancwnlle, and
Llandewibrefi. He seems to have entered on his ministerial
duties like thousands in his day — without the slightest ade-

HLS EARL Y LIFE. 1 83
quate sense of his responsibilities, and utterly ignorant of the
gospel of Christ. According to Owen he was a good classical
scholar, and had made rapid progress at Hereford School in all
secular learning. But in the neighbourhood where he was born
and began his ministry, he is reported never to have given any
proof of fitness to be a minister. He was only known as a
man remarkable for natural vivacity, of middle size, of a firm
make, of quick and nimble action, very adroit and successful in
all games and athletic amusements, and as ready as any one,
after doing duty in church on Sunday morning, to spend the
rest of God's day in sports and revels, if not in drunkenness.
Such was the character of the great apostle of Wales for some
time after his ordination ! He was never likely, afterwards, to
forget St. Paul's words to the Corinthians, " Such were some
of you" (1 Cor. vi. n), or to doubt the possibility of any one's
conversion. The precise time and manner of Rowlands' conversion are
points involved in much obscurity. According to Morgan, the
first thing that awakened him out of his spiritual slumber, was
the discovery that, however well he tried to preach, he could
not prevent one of his congregations being completely thinned
by a dissenting minister named Pugh. It is said that this made
him alter his sermons, and adopt a more awakening and alarm
ing style of address. According to Owen, he was first brought
to himself by hearing a well-known excellent clergyman, named
Griffith Jones, preach at Llandewibrefi. On this occasion his
appearance, as he stood in the crowd before the pulpit, is said
to have been so full of vanity, conceit, and levity, that Mr.
Jones stopped in his sermon and offered a special prayer for
him, that God would touch his heart, and make him an instru
ment for turning souls from darkness to light. This prayer is
said to have had an immense effect on Rowlands, and he is
reported to have been a different man from that day. I do not
attempt to reconcile the two accounts. I can quite believe

l84 A CHANGED MAN.
that both are true. AVhen the Holy Ghost takes in hand the
conversion of a soul, he often causes a variety of circumstances
to concur and co-operate in producing it. This, I am sure,
would be the testimony of all experienced believers. Owen
got hold of one set of facts, and Morgan of another. Both
happened probably about the same time, and both probably
are true.
One thing, at any rate, is very certain. From about the year
1738, when Rowlands was twenty-five, a complete change came
over his life and ministry. He began to preach like a man in
earnest, and to speak and act like one who had found out that
sin, and death, and judgment, and heaven, and hell, were great
realities. Gifted beyond most men with bodily and mental
qualifications for the work of the pulpit, he began to consecrate
himself wholly to it, and threw himself, body, and soul, and
mind, into his sermons. The consequence, as might be ex
pected, was an enormous amount of popularity. The churches
where he preached were crowded to suffocation. The effect of
his ministry, in the way of awakening and arousing sinners, was
something tremendous. " The impression," says Morgan, " on
the hearts of most people, was that of awe and distress, and as
if they saw the end of the world drawing near, and hell ready
to swallow them up. His fame soon spread throughout the
country, and people came from all parts to hear him. Not
only the churches were filled, but also the churchyards. It is
said that, under deep conviction, numbers of the people lay
down on the ground in the churchyard of Llancwnlle, and it
was not easy for a person to pass by without stumbling against
some of them."
At this very time, however curious it may seem, it is clear
that Rowlands did not preach the full gospel. His testimony
was unmistakably truth, but still it was not the whole truth. He
painted the spirituality and condemning power of the law in
such vivid colours that his hearers trembled before him, and

PREACHES THE LAW. 185
cried out for mercy. But he did not yet lift up Christ crucified
in all his fulness, as a refuge, a physician, a redeemer, and a
friend ; and hence, though many were wounded, they were not
healed. How long he continued preaching in this strain it is,
at this distance of time, extremely difficult to say. So far as I
can make out by comparing dates, it went on for about four
years. The work that he did for God in this period, I have no
doubt, was exceedingly useful, as a preparation for the message
of later days. I, for one, believe that there are places, and
times, and seasons, and congregations, in which powerful
preaching of the law is of the greatest value. I strongly sus
pect that many evangelical congregations in the present day
would be immensely benefited by a broad, powerful exhibition
of God's law. But that there was too much law in Rowlands'
preaching for four years after his conversion, both for his own
comfort and the good of his hearers, is very evident from the
fragmentary accounts that remain of his ministry.
The means by which the mind of Rowlands was gradually
led into the full light of the gospel have not been fully explained
by his biographers. Perhaps the simplest explanation will be
found in our Lord Jesus Christ's words, "If any man will do
his will, he shall know of the doctrine" (John vii. 17). Row
lands was evidently a man who honestly lived up to his light,
and followed on to know the Lord. His Master took care
that he did not long walk in darkness, but showed him " the
light of life." One principal instrument of guiding him into
the whole truth was that same Mr. Pugh who, at an earlier
period, had thinned his congregation ! He took great interest
in Rowlands at this critical era in his spiritual history, and
gave him much excellent advice. " Preach the gospel, dear
sir," he would say ; " preach the gospel to the people, and
apply the balm of Gilead, the blood of Christ, to their spiritual
wounds, and show the necessity of faith in the crucified Saviour."
Happy indeed are young ministers who have an Aquila or

l»o EFFECT OF HIS PREACHING.
Priscilla near them, and when they get good advice are willing
to listen to it ! The friendship of the eminent layman, Howell
Harris, with whom Rowlands became acquainted about this
time, was no doubt a great additional help to his soul. In one
way or another, the great apostle of Wales was gradually led
into the full noontide light of Christ's truth; and about the year
1742, in the thirtieth year ofhis age, became established as the
preacher of a singularly full, free, clear, and well-balanced
gospel. The effect of Rowlands' ministry from this time forward to
his life's end was something so vast and prodigious, that it
almost takes away one's breath to hear of it. We see un
happily so very little of spiritual influences in the present day,
the operations of the Holy Ghost appear confined'within such
narrow limits and to reach so few persons, that the harvests
reaped at Llangeitho a hundred years ago sound almost in
credible. But the evidence of the results of his preaching is so
abundant and incontestable, that there is no room left for
doubt. One universal testimony is borne to the fact that Row
lands was made a blessing to hundreds of souls. People used
to flock to hear him preach from every part of the Principality,
and to think nothing of travelling fifty or sixty miles for the
purpose. On sacrament Sundays it was no uncommon thing
for him to have 1500, or 2000, or even 2500 communicants!
The people on these occasions would go together in companies,
like the Jews going up to the temple feast in Jerusalem, and
would return home afterwards singing hymns and psalms on
their journey, caring nothing for fatigue.
It is useless to attempt accounting for these effects of the
great Welsh preacher's ministry, as many do, by calling them
religious excitement. Such people would do well to remember
that the influence which Rowlands had over his hearers was an
influence which never waned for at least forty-eight years. It
had its ebbs and flows, no doubt, and rose on several occasions

DANGERS IN RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT. 187
to the spring-tide of revivals ; but at no time did his ministry
appear to be without immense and unparalleled results. Ac
cording to Charles of Bala, and many other unexceptionable
witnesses, it seemed just as attractive and effective when he
was seventy years old as it was when he was fifty. When we
recollect, moreover, the singular fact that on Sundays, at least,
Rowlands was very seldom absent from Llangeitho, and that
for forty-eight years he was constantly preaching on the same
spot, and not, like Whitefield and Wesley, incessantly address
ing fresh congregations, we must surely allow that few preachers
have had such extraordinary spiritual success since the days of
the apostles.
Of course it would be absurd to say that there was no excite
ment, unsound profession, hypocrisy, and false fire among the
thousands who crowded to hear Rowlands. There was much,
no doubt, as there always will be, when large masses of people
are gathered together. Nothing, perhaps, is so infectious as a
kind of sham, sensational Christianity, and particularly among
unlearned and ignorant men. The Welsh, too, are notoriously
an excitable people. No one, however, was more fully alive
to these dangers than the great preacher himself, and no one
could warn his hearers more incessantly that the Christianity
which was not practical was unprofitable and vain. But, after
all, the effects of Rowlands' ministry were too plain and pal
pable to be mistaken. There is clear and overwhelming
evidence that the lives of many of his hearers were vastly
improved after hearing him preach, and that sin was checked
and distinct knowledge of Christianity increased to an immense
extent throughout the Principality.
It will surprise no Christian to hear that, from an early
period, Rowlands found it impossible to confine his labours to
his own parish. The state of the country was so deplorable as
to religion and morality, and the applications he received for
help were so many, that he felt he had no choice in the matter.

1 88 INVITED TO PREACH AT YSTRADFFIN.
The circumstances under which he first began preaching out of
his own neighbourhood are so interesting, as described by
Owen, that I shall give his words without abbreviation : —
" There was a farmer's wife in Ystradffin, in the county of
Carmarthen, who had a sister living near Llangeitho. This
woman came at times to see her sister, and on one of these
occasions she heard some strange things about the clergyman
of the parish — that is, Rowlands. The common saying was,
that he was not right in his mind. However, she went to hear
him, and not in vain ; but she said nothing then to her sister
or to anybody else about the sermon, and she returned home to
her family. The following Sunday she came again to her
sister's home at Llangeitho. 'What is the matter?' said her
sister, in great surprise. ' Are your husband and your children
well?' She feared, from seeing her again so soon and so un
expectedly, that something unpleasant had happened. ' Oh,
yes,' was the reply, ' nothing of that kind is amiss.' Again she
asked her, 'What, then, is the matter?' To this she replied,
' I don't well know what is the matter. Something that your
cracked clergyman said last Sunday has brought me here to-day.
It stuck in my mind all the week, and never left me night nor
day.' She went again to hear, and continued to come every
Sunday, though her road was rough and mountainous, and her
home more than twenty miles from Llangeitho.
" After continuing to hear Rowlands about half a year, she
felt a strong desire to ask him to come and preach at Ystradffin.
She made up her mind to try; and, after service one Sunday,
she went to Rowlands, and accosted him in the following man
ner: — ' Sir, if what you say to us is true, there are many in my
neighbourhood in a most dangerous condition, going fast to
eternal misery. For the sake of their souls, come over, sir, to
preach to them.'" The woman's request took Rowlands by
surprise; but without a moment's hesitation he said, in his usual
quick way, ' Yes, I will come, if you can get the clergyman's

COMMENCES FIELD-PREACHING. 189
permission.' This satisfied the woman, and she returned home
as much pleased as if she had found some rich treasure. She
took the first opportunity of asking her clergyman's permission,
and easily succeeded. Next Sunday she went joyfully to
Llangeitho, and informed Rowlands of her success. According
to his promise he went over and preached at Ystradffin, and
his very first sermon there was wonderfully blessed. Not less
than thirty persons, it is said, were converted that day ! Many
of them afterwards came regularly to hear him at Llangeitho."
From this time forth, Rowlands never hesitated to preach
outside his own parish, wherever a door of usefulness was
opened. When he could, he preached in churches. When
churches were closed to him, he would preach in a room, a
barn, or the open air. At no period, however, of his ministerial
life does he appear to have been so much of an itinerant as
some of his contemporaries. He rightly judged that hearers of
the gospel required to be built up as well as awakened, and for
this work he was peculiarly well qualified. Whatever, there
fore, he did on week days, the Sunday generally found him at
Llangeitho. The circumstances under which he first began the practice of
field-preaching were no less remarkable than those under which
he was called to preach at Ystradffin. It appears that after
his own conversion he felt great anxiety about the spiritual con
dition of his old companions in sin and folly. Most of them
were thoughtless headstrong young men, who thoroughly dis
liked his searching sermons, and refused at last to come to
church at all. " Their custom," says Owen, " was to go on
Sunday to a suitable place on one of the hills above Llangeitho,
and there amuse themselves with sports and games." Rowlands
tried all means to stop this sinful profanation of the Lord's day,
but for some time utterly failed. At last he determined to go
there himself on a Sunday. As these rebels against God would
not come to him in church, he resolved to go to them on their

190 ESTABLISHES SOCIETIES.
own ground. He went therefore, and suddenly breaking into
the ring as a cock-fight was going on, addressed them power
fully and boldly about the sinfulness of their conduct. The
effect was so great that not a tongue was raised to answer or
oppose him, and from that day the Sabbath assembly in that
place was completely given up. For the rest of his life Row
lands never hesitated, when occasion required, to preach in the
open air.
The extra-parochial work that Rowlands did by his itinerant
preaching was carefully followed up and not allowed to fall to
the ground. No one understood better than he did, that souls
require almost as much attention after they are awakened as
they do before, and that in spiritual husbandry there is need of
watering as well as planting. Aided, therefore, by a few zealous
fellow-labourers, both lay and clerical, he established a regular
system of Societies, on John Wesley's plan, over the greater
part of Wales, through which he managed to keep up a con
stant communication with all who valued the gospel that he
preached, and to keep them well together. These societies
were all connected with one great Association, which met four
times a-year, and of which he was generally the moderator.
The amount of his influence at these Association-meetings may
be measured by the fact that above one hundred ministers in
the Principality regarded him as their spiritual father ! From
the very first this Association seems to have been a most wisely
organized and useful institution, and to it may be traced the
existence of the Calvinistic Methodist body in Wales at this
very day.
The mighty instrument whom God employed in doing all the
good works I have been describing, was not permitted to do
them without many trials. For wise and good ends, no doubt
— to keep him humble in the midst of his immense success
and to prevent his being exalted overmuch — he was called upon
to drink many bitter cups. Like his divine Master, he was " a

RO WLANDS ONL Y A CUR A TE. 191
man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." The greatest of
these trials, no doubt, was his ejection from the Church of
England in 1763, after serving her faithfully for next to nothing
as an ordained clergyman for thirty years. The manner in
which this disgraceful transaction was accomplished was so re
markable, that it deserves to be fully described.
Rowlands, it must be remembered, was never an incumbent.
From the time of his ordination in 1733, he was simply curate
of Llangeitho, under his elder brother John, until the time of
his death in 1760. What kind of a clergyman his elder brother
was is not very clear. He was drowned at Aberystwith, and
we only know that for twenty-seven years he seems to have
left everything at Llangeitho in Daniel's hands, and to have let
him do just what he liked. Upon the death of John Rowlands,
the Bishop of St. David's, who was patron of Llangeitho, was
asked to give the living to his brother Daniel, upon the very
reasonable ground that he had been serving the parish as
curate no less than twenty-seven years ! The bishop unhappily
refused to comply with this request, alleging as his excuse that
he had received many complaints about his irregularities. He
took the very singular step of giving the living to John, the son
of Daniel Rowlands, a young man twenty-seven years old.
The result of this very odd proceeding was, that Daniel Row
lands became curate to his own son, as he had been curate to
his own brother, and continued his labours at Llangeitho for
three years more uninterruptedly.*
The reasons why the Bishop of St. David's refused to give
Rowlands the living of Llangeitho may be easily divined. So
long as he was only a curate, he knew that he could easily
silence him. Once instituted and inducted as incumbent, he
would have occupied a position from which he could not have
* For a clue to all this intricacy, I am entirely indebted to the Rev. W. Rowlands of
Fishguard. Unless the facts I have detailed are carefully remembered, it is impossible to
understand how Daniel Rowlands was so easily turned out of his position. The truth i<*.
that he was only a curate.

I92 HIS LICENSE WITHDRAWN.
been removed without much difficulty. Influenced, probably,
by some such considerations, the bishop permitted Rowlands
to continue preaching at Llangeitho as curate to his son, warn
ing him at the same time that the Welsh clergy were constantly
complaining of his irregularities, and that he could not long
look over them. These " irregularities," be it remembered,
were neither drunkenness, breach of the seventh commandment,
hunting, shooting, nor gambling ! The whole substance of his
offence was preaching out of his own parish wherever he could
get hearers ! To the bishop's threats Rowlands replied, " that
he had nothing in view but the glory of God in the salvation
of sinners, and that as his labours had been so much blessed
he could not desist."
At length, in the year 1763, the fatal step was taken. The
bishop sent Rowlands a mandate, revoking his license, and was
actually foolish enough to have it served on a Sunday ! The
niece of an eye-witness describes what happened in the follow
ing words : " My uncle was at Llangeitho church that very
morning. A stranger came forward and served Mr. Rowlands
with a notice from the bishop, at the very time when he was
stepping into the pulpit. Mr. Rowlands read it, and told the
people that the letter which he had just received was from the
bishop, revoking his license. Mr. Rowlands then said, ' We
must obey the higher powers. Let me beg you will go out
quietly, and then we shall conclude the service of the morning
by the church gate.' And so they walked out, weeping and
crying. My uncle thought there was not a dry eye in the church
at the moment. Mr. Rowlands accordingly preached outside
the church with extraordinary effect."
A more unhappy, ill-timed, blundering exercise of episcopal
power than this, it is literally impossible to conceive ! Here
was a man of singular gifts and graces, who had no objection
to anything in the Articles or Prayer-book, cast out of the
Church of England for no other fault than excess of zeal.

PREACHES IN A CHAPEL. 193
And this ejection took place at a time when scores of Welsh
clergymen were shamefully neglecting their duties, and too often
were drunkards, gamblers, and sportsmen, if not worse ! That
the bishop afterwards bitterly repented of what he did, is very
poor consolation indeed. It was too late. The deed was
done. Rowlands was shut out of the Church of England, and
an immense number of his people all over Wales followed him.
A breach was made in the walls of the Established Church
which will probably never be healed. As long as the world
stands, the Church of England in Wales will never get over the
injury done to it by the preposterous and stupid revocation of
Daniel Rowlands' license.
There is every reason to believe that Rowlands felt his expul
sion most keenly. However, it made no difference whatever
in his line of action. His friends and followers soon built him
a large and commodious chapel in the parish of Llangeitho, and
migrated there in a body. He did not even leave Llangeitho
rectory; for his son, being rector, allowed him to reside there
as long as he lived. In fact, the Church of England lost every
thing by ejecting him, and gained nothing at all. The great
Welsh preacher was never silenced practically for a single day,
and the Church of England only reaped a harvest of odium
and dislike in Wales, which is bearing fruit to this very hour.
From the time of his ejection to his death, the course of
Rowlands' life seems to have been comparatively undisturbed.
No longer persecuted and snubbed by ecclesiastical superiors,
he held on his way for twenty-seven years in great quietness,
undiminished popularity, and immense usefulness, and died at
length in Llangeitho rectory on October the 16th, 1790, at the
ripe old age of seventy-seven.
" He was unwell during the last year of his life," says Mor
gan, " but able to go on with his ministry at Llangeitho, though
he scarcely went anywhere else. It was his particular wish that
he might go direct from his work to his everlasting rest, and
(195) 13

194 HIS DEATH AND BURIAL.
not be kept long on a death-bed. His heavenly Father was
pleased to grant his desire, and when his departure was draw
ing nigh, he had some pleasing idea of his approaching
end." One of his children has supplied the following interesting
account of his last days : — " My father made the following ob
servations in his sermons two Sundays before his departure.
He said, ' I am almost leaving, and am on the point of being
taken from you. I am not tired of work, but in it. I have
some presentiment that my heavenly Father will soon release
me from my labours, and bring me to my everlasting rest.
But I hope that he will continue his gracious presence with
you after I am gone.' He told us, conversing on his departure
after worship the last Sunday, that he should like to die in a
quiet, serene manner, and hoped that he should not be disturbed
by our sighs and crying. He added, ' I have no more to state,
by way of acceptance with God, than I have always stated : I
die as a poor sinner, depending fully and entirely on the merits
of a crucified Saviour for my acceptance with God.' In his
last hours he often used the expression, in Latin, which Wesley
used on his death-bed, ' God is with us ;' and finally departed
in great peace."
Rowlands was buried at Llangeitho, at the east end of the
church. His enemies could shut him out of the pulpit, but
not out of the churchyard. An old inhabitant of the parish,
now eighty-five years of age, says : " I well remember his
tomb, and many times have I read the inscription, his name,
and age, with that of his wife's, Eleanor, who died a year
and two months after her husband. The stone was laid on
a three feet wall, but it is now worn out by the hand of time."
Rowlands was once married. It is believed that his wife was
the daughter of Mr. Davies of Glynwchaf, near Llangeitho. He
had seven children who survived him, and two who died in
infancy. What became of all his family, and whether there are

S TOR 1 ' OF HIS POR TRAIT. 1 9 5
any lineal descendants of his, I have been unable to ascertain
with accuracy.
The engraving of him which faces the title-page of the lives
drawn up by Morgan and Owen, gives one the idea of Row
lands being a grave and solemn-looking man. It is probably
taken from the picture of him which Lady Huntingdon sent an
artist to take at the very end of his life. The worthy old saint
did not at all like having his portrait taken. " Why do you
object, sir?" said the artist at last. " Why ?" replied the old
man, with great emphasis ; " I am only a bit of clay like thy
self." And then he exclaimed, " Alas ! alas ! alas ! taking the
picture of a poor old sinner ! alas! alas !" — " His countenance,"
says Morgan, " altered and fell at once, and this is the reason
why the picture appears so heavy and cast down."
I have other things yet to tell about Rowlands. His preach
ing and the many characteristic anecdotes about him deserve
special notice. But I must reserve these points for another
chapter. CHAPTER II.
Analysis of his Preaching — Much of Christ — Richness of Thought — Felicity of Language
— Large Measure of Practical and Experimental Teaching — Manner, Delivery, and
Voice — Christmas Evans' Description of his Preaching — Testimony of Mr. Jones of
Creaton — Specimens of Rowlands' Sermons — Inner Life and Private Character-
Humility, Prayerfulness, Diligence, Self-Denial, Courage, Fervour — Rowland Hills
Anecdote.
In taking a general survey of the ministry of Daniel Rowlands
of Llangeitho, the principal thing that strikes one is the extra
ordinary power of his preaching. There was evidently some
thing very uncommon about his sermons. On this point we
have the clear and distinct testimony of a great cloud of wit
nesses. In a day when God raised up several preachers of very
great power, Rowlands was considered by competent judges to
be equalled by only one man, and to be excelled by none.

196 ROWLANDS' SERMONS.
Whitefield was thought to equal him ; but even Whitefield was
not thought to surpass him. This is undoubtedly high praise.
Some account of the good man's sermons will probably prove
interesting to most of my readers. What were their peculiar
characteristics ? What were they like 1
I must begin by frankly confessing that the subject is sur
rounded by difficulties. The materials out of which we have
to form our judgment are exceedingly small. Eight sermons,
translated out of Welsh into English in the year 1774, are the
only literary record which exists of the great Welsh apostle's
fifty years' ministry. Besides these sermons, and a few frag
ments of occasional addresses, we have hardly any means of
testing the singularly high estimate which his contemporaries
formed of his preaching powers. When I add to this, that the
eight sermons extant appear to be poorly translated, the reader
will have some idea of the difficulties I have to contend with.
Let me remark, however, once for all, that when the genera
tion which heard a great preacher has passed away, it is often
hard to find out the secret of his popularity. No well-read
person can be ignorant that Luther and Knox in the sixteenth
century, Stephen Marshall in the Commonwealth times, and
George Whitefield in the eighteenth century, were the most
popular and famous preachers of their respective eras. Yet no
one, perhaps, can read their sermons, as we now possess them,
without a secret feeling that they do not answer to their reputa
tion. In short, it is useless to deny that there is some hidden
secret about pulpit power which baffles all attempts at defini
tion. The man who attempts to depreciate the preaching of
Rowlands on the ground that the only remains of him now
extant seem poor, will find that he occupies an untenable posi
tion. He might as well attempt to depreciate the great cham
pions of the German and Scottish Reformations.
After all, we must remember that no man has a right to pass
unfavourable criticisms on the remains of great popular preachers,

ANALYSIS OF HIS PREACHING. 197
unless he has first thoroughly considered what kind of thing a
popular sermon must of necessity be. The vast majority of
sermon-hearers do not want fine words, close reasoning, deep
philosophy, metaphysical abstractions, nice distinctions, elabo
rate composition, profound learning. They delight in plain
language, simple ideas, forcible illustrations, direct appeals to
heart and conscience, short sentences, fervent, loving earnest
ness of manner. He who possesses such qualifications will
seldom preach to empty benches. He who possesses them in
a high degree will always be a popular preacher. Tried by
this standard, the popularity of Luther and Knox is easily
explained. Rowlands appears to have been a man of this
stamp. An intelligent judge of popular preaching can hardly
fail to see in his remains, through all the many disadvantages
under which we read them, some of the secrets of his marvel
lous success.
Having cleared my way by these preliminary remarks, I will
proceed at once to show my readers some of the leading charac
teristics of the great Welsh evangelist's preaching. I give them
as the result of a close analysis of his literary remains. Weak
and poor as they undoubtedly look in the garb of a translation,
I venture to think that the following points stand out clearly in
Rowlands' sermons, and give us a tolerable idea of what his
preaching generally was.
The first thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is
the constant presence of Christ in all his addresses. The Lord
Jesus stands out prominently in almost every page. That his
doctrine was always eminently "evangelical" is a point on
which I need not waste words. The men about whom I am
writing were all men of that stamp. But of all the spiritual cham
pions of last century, none appear to me to have brought Christ
forward more prominently than Rowlands. The blood, the
sacrifice, the righteousness, the kindness, the patience, the
saving grace, the example, the greatness of the Lord Jesus, are

19s RICHNESS OF THOUGHT.
subjects which appear to run through every sermon, and to crop
out at every turn. It seems as if the preacher could never say
enough about his Master, and was never weary of commending
him to his hearers. His divinity and his humanity, his office
and his character, his death and his life, are pressed on our
attention in every possible connection. Yet it all seems to
come in naturally, and without effort, as if it were the regular
outflowing ofthe preacher's mind, and the language of a heart
speaking from its abundance. Here, I suspect, was precisely
one of the great secrets of Rowlands' power. A ministry full of
the Lord Jesus is exactly the sort of ministry that I should
expect God to bless. Christ-honouring sermons are just the
sermons that the Holy Spirit seals with success.
The second thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is
a singular richness of thought and matter. Tradition records
that he was a diligent student all his life, and spent a great deal
of time in the preparation of his sermons. I can quite believe
this. Even in the miserable relics which we possess, I fancy I
detect strong internal evidence that he was deeply read in
Puritan divinity. I suspect that he was very familiar with the
writings of such men as Gurnall, Watson, Brooks, Clarkson,
and their contemporaries, and was constantly storing his mind
with fresh thoughts from their pages. Those who imagine that
the great Welsh preacher was nothing but an empty declaimer
of trite commonplaces, bald platitudes, and hackneyed phrases,
with a lively manner and a loud voice, are utterly and entirely
mistaken. They will find, even in the tattered rags ofhis trans
lated sermons, abundant proof that Rowlands was a man who
read much and thought much, and gave his hearers plenty to
carry away. Even in the thin little volume of eight sermons
which I have, I find frequent quotations from Chrysostom,
Augustine, Ambrose, Bernard, and Theophylact. I find fre
quent reference to things recorded by Greek and Latin classical
writers. I mark such names as Homer, Socrates, Plato, /Eschines,

FELICITY OF LANGUA GE. 1 99
Aristotle, Pythagoras, Carneades. Alexander the Great, Julius
Caisar, Nero, the Augean stable, Thersites, and Xantippe, make
their appearance here and there. That Rowlands was indebted
to his friends the Puritans for most of these materials, I make
no question at all. But wherever he may have got his learning,
there is no doubt that he possessed it, and knew how to make
use of it in his sermons. In this respect I think he excelled all
his contemporaries. Not one of them shows so much reading
in his sermons as the curate of Llangeitho. Here again, I
venture to suggest, was one great secret of Rowlands' success.
The man who takes much pains with his sermons, and never
brings out what has "cost him nothing,'' is just the man I
expect God will bless. We want well-beaten oil for the service
of the sanctuary.
The third thing that I notice in the remains of Rowlands is
the curious felicity ofthe language in which he expressed his
ideas. Of course this is a point on which I must speak diffi
dently, knowing literally nothing of the Welsh tongue, and entirely
dependent on translation. But it is impossible to mistake certain
peculiarities in style which stand forth prominently in every
thing which comes from the great Welsh apostle's mind. He
abounds in short, terse, pithy, epigrammatic, proverbial sentences,
of that kind which arrests the attention and sticks in the
memory of hearers. He has a singularly happy mode of quot
ing Scriptures in confirming and enforcing the statement he
makes. Above all, he is rich in images and illustrations, drawn
from everything almost in the world, but always put in such a
way that the simplest mind can understand them. Much ofthe
peculiar interest of his preaching, I suspect, may be traced to
this talent of putting things in the most vivid and pictorial way.
He made his hearers feel that they actually saw the things of
which he was speaking. No intelligent reader of the Bible, I
suppose, needs to be reminded that in all this Rowlands walked
in the footsteps of his divine Master. The sermons of Him

200 HIS PRACTICAL TEACHING.
who " spake as never man spake," were not elaborate rhetorical
arguments. Parables founded on subjects familiar to the
humblest intellect, terse, broad, sententious statements, were the
staple of our Lord Jesus Christ's preaching. Much of the
marvellous success of Rowlands, perhaps, may be traced up to
his wise imitation of the best of patterns, the great Head of the
Church. The fourth and last thing which I notice in the remains of
Rowlands, is the large measure oi practical and experimental
teaching which enters into all his sermons. Anxious as he un
doubtedly was to convert sinners and arouse the careless, he
never seems to forget the importance of guiding the Church of
God and building up believers. Warnings, counsels, encourage
ments, consolations suited to professing Christians, are con
tinually appearing in all his discourses. The peculiar character
of his ministerial position may partly account for this. He was
always preaching in the same place, and to many of the same
hearers, on Sundays. He was not nearly so much an itinerant
as many of his contemporaries. He could not, like Whitefield,
and Wesley, and Berridge, preach the same sermon over and
over again, and yet feel that probably none of his hearers had
heard it before. Set for the defence of the gospel at Llangeitho
every Sunday, and seeing every week the same faces looking up
to him, he probably found it absolutely necessary to " bring
forth new things as well as old," and to be often exhorting
many ofhis hearers not to stand still in first principles, but to
" go on unto perfection." But be the cause what it may, there
is abundant evidence in the sermons of Rowlands that he never
forgot the believers among his people, and generally contrived
to say a good many things for their special benefit. Here
again, I venture to think, we have one more clue to his extra
ordinary usefulness. He "rightly divided the word of truth,"
and gave to every man his portion. Most preachers of the
gospel, I suspect, fail greatly in this matter. They either neglect

HIS MANNER AND DELIVERY 201
the unconverted or the true Christians in their congregations.
They either spend their strength in perpetually teaching elemen
tary truths, or else they dwell exclusively on the privileges and
duties of God's children. From this one-sided style of preach
ing Rowlands seems to have been singularly free. Even in the
midst of the plainest addresses to the ungodly, he never loses
the opportunity of making a general appeal to the godly. In a
word, his ministry of God's truth was thoroughly well-balanced
and well-proportioned ; and this is just the ministry which we
may expect the Ploly Ghost will bless.
The manner and delivery of this great man, when he was in
the act of preaching, require some special notice. Every sen
sible Christian knows well that voice and delivery have a great
deal to say to the effectiveness of a speaker, and above all of
one who speaks in the pulpit. A sermon faultless both in doc
trine and composition will often sound dull and tiresome, when
tamely read by a clergyman with a heavy monotonous manner.
A sermon of little intrinsic merit, and containing perhaps not
half-a-dozen ideas, will often pass muster as brilliant and elo
quent, when delivered by a lively speaker with a good voice.
For want of good delivery some men make gold look like copper,
while others, by the sheer force of a good delivery, make a few
halfpence pass for gold. Truths divine seem really " mended"
by the tongue of some, while they are marred and damaged by
others. There is deep wisdom and knowledge of human nature
in the answer given by an ancient to one who asked what were
the first qualifications of an orator : " The first qualification,"
he said, " is action ; and the second is action ; and the third is
action." The meaning of course was, that it was almost im
possible to overrate the importance of manner and delivery.
The voice of Rowlands, according to tradition, was remark
ably powerful. We may easily believe this, when we recollect
that he used frequently to preach to thousands in the open air,
and to make himself heard by all without difficulty. But we

202 HIS POWERFUL VOICE.
must not suppose that power was the only attribute of his vocal
organ, and that he was nothing better than one who screamed,
shouted, and bawled louder than other ministers. There is
universal testimony from all good judges who heard him, that
his voice was singularly moving, affecting, and tender, and pos
sessed a strange power of drawing forth the sympathies of his
hearers. In this respect he seems lo have resembled Baxter
and Whitefield. Like Whitefield, too, his feelings never inter
fered with the exercise of his voice; and even when his affections
moved him to tears in preaching, he was able to .continue speak
ing with uninterrupted clearness. It is a striking feature of the
moving character ofhis voice, that a remarkable revival of religion
began at Llangeitho while Rowlands was reading the Litany of
the Church of England. The singularly touching and melting
manner in which he repeated the words, " By thine agony and
bloody sweat, good Lord, deliver us," so much affected the whole
congregation, that almost all began to weep loudly, and an
awakening of spiritual life commenced which extended through
out the neighbourhood.
Of the manner, demeanour, and action of Rowlands in the
delivery of his sermons, mention is made by all who write of
him. All describe them as being something so striking and
remarkable, that no one could have an idea of them but an
eye-witness. He seems to have combined in a most extraor
dinary degree solemnity and liveliness, dignity and familiarity,
depth and fervour. His singular plainness and directness made
even the poorest feel at home when he preached ; and yet he
never degenerated into levity or buffoonery. His images and
similes brought things home to his hearers with such graphic
power that they could not help sometimes smiling. But he
never made his Master's business ridiculous by pulpit joking. If
he did say things that made people smile occasionally, he far
more often said things that made them weep.
The following sketch by the famous Welsh preacher, Christ-

TESTIMONY OF CHRISTMAS EVANS. 203
mas Evans, will probably give as good an idea as we can now
obtain of Rowlands in the pulpit. It deserves the more atten
tion, because it is the sketch of a Welshman, an eye-witness, a
keen observer, a genuine admirer ofhis hero, and one who was
himself in after-days a very extraordinary man : —
" Rowlands' mode of preaching was peculiar to himself —
inimitable. Methinks I see him now entering in his black
gown through a little door from the outside to the pulpit, and
making his appearance suddenly before the immense congrega
tion. His countenance was in every sense adorned with ma
jesty, and it bespoke the man of strong sense, eloquence, and
authority. His forehead was high and prominent ; his eye was
quick, sharp, and penetrating ; he had an aquiline or Roman
nose, proportionable comely lips, projecting chin, and a sono
rous, commanding, and well-toned voice.
"When he made his appearance in the pulpit, he frequently
gave out, with a clear and audible voice, Psalm xxvii. 4 to be
sung. Only one verse was sung before sermon, in those days
notable for divine influences; but the whole congregation joined
in singing it with great fervour. Then Rowlands would stand
up, and read his text distinctly in the hearing of all. The whole
congregation were all ears and most attentive, as if they were
on the point of hearing some evangelic and heavenly oracle,
and the eyes of all the people were at the same time most
intensely fixed upon him. He had at the beginning of his dis
course some stirring, striking idea, like a small box of ointment
which he opened before the great one of his sermon, and it
filled all the house with its heavenly perfume, as the odour of
Mary's alabaster box of ointment at Bethany ; and the congre
gation being delightfully enlivened with the sweet odour, were
prepared to look for more of it from one box after the other
throughout the sermon.
" I will borrow another similitude in order to give some idea
of his most energetic eloquence. It shall be taken from the

2°4 TESTIMONY OF CHRISTMAS EVANS.
trade of a blacksmith. The smith first puts the iron into the
fire, and then blows the bellows softly, making some inquiries
respecting the work to be done, while his eye all the time is
fixed steadily on the process of heating the iron in the fire. But
as soon as he perceives it to be in a proper and pliable state,
he carries it to the anvil, and brings the weighty hammer and
sledge down on the metal, and in the midst of stunning noise
and fiery sparks emitted from the glaring metal, he fashions and
moulds it at his will.
" Thus Rowlands, having glanced at his notes as a matter of
form, would go on with his discourse in a calm and deliberate
manner, speaking with a free and audible voice ; but he would
gradually become warmed with his subject, and at length his
voice became so elevated and authoritative, that it resounded
through the whole chapel. The effect on the people was won
derful ; you could see nothing but smiles and tears running
down the face of all. The first flame of heavenly devotion
under the first division having subsided, he would again look
on his scrap of notes, and begin the second time to melt and
make the minds of the people supple, until he formed them
again into the same heavenly temper. And thus he would do
six or seven times in the same sermon.
"Rowlands' voice, countenance, and appearance used to
change exceedingly in the pulpit, and he seemed to be greatly
excited ; but there was nothing low or disagreeable in him — all
was becoming, dignified, and excellent. There was such a
vehement, invincible flame in his ministry, as effectually drove
away the careless, worldly, dead spirit ; and the people so
awakened drew nigh, as it were, to the bright cloud — to Christ,
to Moses, and Elias — eternity and its amazing realities rushing
into their minds.
" There was very little, if any, inference or application at the
end of Rowlands' sermon, for he had been applying and en
forcing the glorious truths of the gospel throughout the whole

OTHER WITNESSES. 205
ofhis discourse. He would conclude with a very fevv striking
and forcible remarks, which were most overwhelming and in
vincible ; and then he would make a very sweet, short prayer,
and utter the benediction. Then he would make haste out of
the pulpit through the little door. His exit was as sudden as
his entrance. Rowlands was a star of the greatest magnitude
that appeared the last century in the Principality ; and perhaps
there has not been his like in Wales since the days of the
apostles." It seems almost needless to add other testimony to this
graphic sketch, though it might easily be added. The late Mr.
Jones of Creaton, who was no mean judge, and heard the
greatest preachers in England and Wales, used to declare that
" he never heard but one Rowlands." The very first time he
heard him, he was so struck with his manner of delivery, as well
as his sermon, that it led him to a serious train of thought,
which ultimately ended in his conversion. — Charles of Bala,
himself a very eminent minister, said that there was a pecu
liar "dignity and grandeur" in Rowlands' ministry, "as well
as profound thoughts, strength and melodiousness of voice,
and clearness and animation in exhibiting the deep things of
God." — A Birmingham minister, who came accidentally to a
place in Wales where Rowlands was preaching to an immense
congregation in the open air, says : " I never witnessed such a
scene before. The striking appearance of the preacher, and his
zeal, animation, and fervour were beyond description. Row
lands' countenance was most expressive ; it glowed almost like
an angel's."
After saying so much about the gifts and power of this great
preacher, it is perhaps hardly fair to offer any specimens of his
sermons. To say nothing of the fact that we only possess them
in the form of translations, it must never be forgotten that true
pulpit eloquence can rarely be expressed on paper. Wise men
know well that sermons which are excellent to listen to, are just

206 SPECIMENS OF HIS SERMONS.
the sermons which do not " read " well. However, as I have
hitherto generally given my readers some illustrations of the
style of my last century heroes, they will perhaps be disap
pointed if I do not give them a few passages from Rowlands'.
My first specimen shall be taken from his sermon on the
words, " All things work together for good to them that love
God" (Rom. viii. 28).
" Observe what he says. Make thou no exception, when he
makes none. All! remember he excepts nothing. Be thou
confirmed in thy faith ; give glory to God, and resolve, with Job,
' Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' The Almighty
may seem for a season to be your enemy, in order that he may
become your eternal friend. Oh ! believers, after all your tribu
lation and anguish, you must conclude with David, 'It is good
for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy
statutes.' Under all your disquietudes you must exclaim, ' O
the depth ofthe riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of
God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past
finding out !' His glory is seen when he works by means ; it
is more seen when he works without means ; it is seen, above
all, when he works contrary to means. It was a great work to
open the eyes of the blind ; it was a greater still to do it by
applying clay and spittle, things more likely, some think, to
take away sight than to restore. He sent a horror of great
darkness on Abraham, when he was preparing to give him the
best light. He touched the hollow of Jacob's thigh, and lamed
him, when he was going to bless him. He smote Paul with
blindness, when he was intending to open the eyes of his mind.
He refused the request of the woman of Canaan for a while,
but afterwards she obtained her desire. See, therefore, that all
the paths of the Lord are mercy, and that all things work to
gether for good to them that love him.
" Even affliction is very useful and profitable to the godly
The prodigal son had no thought of returning to his father's

ON ROMANS VIII. 28. 207
house till he had been humbled by adversity. Hagar was
haughty under Abraham's roof, and despised her mistress ; but
in the wilderness she was meek and lowly. Jonah sleeps on
board ship, but in the whale's belly he watches and prays.
Manasseh lived as a libertine at Jerusalem, and committed the
most enormous crimes ; but when he was bound in chains in
the prison at Babylon his heart was turned to seek the Lord
his God. Bodily pain and disease have been instrumental in
rousing many to seek Christ, when those who were in high
health have given themselves no concern about him. The
ground which is not rent and torn with the plough bears nothing
but thistles and thorns. The vines will run wild, in process of
time, if they be not pruned and trimmed. So would our wild
hearts be overrun with filthy, poisonous weeds, if the true Vine
dresser did not often check their growth by crosses and sanc
tified troubles. 'It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in
his youth.' Our Saviour says, ' Every branch that beareth fruit,
my Father purgeth, that it may bring forth more fruit.' There
can be no gold or silver finely wrought without being first puri
fied with fire, and no elegant houses built with stones till the
hammers have squared and smoothed them. So we can neither
become vessels of honour in the house of our Father till we are
melted in the furnace of affliction, nor lively stones in the walls
of new Jerusalem till the hand of the Lord has beaten off our
proud excrescences and tumours with his own hammers.
" He does not say that all things will, but do, work together
for good. The work is on the wheel, and every movement of
the wheel is for your benefit. Not only the angels who encamp
around you, or the saints who continually pray for you, but
even your enemies, the old dragon and his angels, are engaged
in this matter. It is true, this is not their design. No !
They think they are carrying on their own work of destroying
you, as it is said of the Assyrian whom the Lord sent to
punish a hypocritical nation, ' Howbeit, he meaneth not so ;'

20S SPECIMENS OF HIS SERMONS.
yet it was God's work that he was carrying on, though he did
not intend to do so. All the events that take place in the
world carry on the same work — the glory of the Father and the
salvation of his children. Every illness and infirmity that may
seize you, every loss you may meet with, every reproach you
may endure, every shame that may colour your faces, every
sorrow in your hearts, every agony and pain in your flesh, every
aching in your bones, are for your good. Every change in your
condition — your fine weather and your rough weather, your
sunny weather and your cloudy weather, your ebbing and your
flowing, your liberty and your imprisonment, all turn out for
good. Oh, Christians, see what a harvest of blessings ripens
from this text ! The Lord is at work ; all creation is at work ;
men and angels, friends and foes, all are busy, working together
for good. Oh, dear Lord Jesus, what hast thou seen in us that
thou shouldst order things so wondrously for us, and make all
things — all things to work together for our good?"
My second specimen shall be taken from his sermon on
Rev. iii. 20 : —
" Oh, how barren and unfruitful is the soul of man, until the
word descends like rain upon it, and it is watered with the dew
of heaven ! But when a few drops have entered and made it
supple, what a rich harvest of graces do they produce ! Is
the heart so full of malice that the most suppliant knee can
expect no pardon ? Is it as hard to be pacified and calmed as
the roaring sea when agitated by a furious tempest ? Is it a
covetous heart ; so covetous that no scene of distress can soften
it into sympathy, and no object of wretchedness extort a penny
from its gripe ? Is it a wanton and adulterous heart, which
may as soon be satisfied as the sea can be filled with gold ? Be
it so. But when the word shall ' drop on it as the rain, and
distil as the dew,' behold, in an instant the flint is turned into
flesh, the tumultuous sea is hushed into a calm, and the moun
tains of Gilboa are clothed with herbs and flowers, where before

ON HEBREWS I. 9. 209
not a green blade was to be seen ! See the mighty change !
It converts Zaccheus, the hard-hearted publican and rapacious
tax-gatherer, into a restorer of what he had unjustly gotten, and
a merciful reliever of the needy. It tames the furious perse
cuting Saul, and makes him gentle as a lamb. It clothes Ahab
with sackcloth and ashes. It reduces Felix to such anguish of
mind that he trembles like an aspen leaf. It disposes Peter to
leave his nets, and makes him to catch thousands of souls at
one draught in the net of the gospel. Behold, the world is con
verted to the faith, not by the magicians of Egypt, but by the
outcasts of Judaea !"
The last specimen that I will give is from his sermon on
Heb. i. 9 : —
" Christ took our nature upon him that he might sympathize
with us. Almost every creature is tender toward its own kind,
however ferocious to others. The bear will not be deprived of
her whelps without resistance : she will tear the spoiler to
pieces if she can. But how great must be the jealousy of the
Lord Jesus for his people ! He will not lose any of them. He
has taken them as members of himself, and as such watches
over them with fondest care. How much will a man do for
one of his members before he suffers it to be cut off ? Think
not, O man, that thou wouldst do more for thy members than
the Son of God. To think so would be blasphemy, for the
pre-eminence in all things belongs to him. Yea, he is acquainted
with all thy temptations, because he was in all things tempted
as thou art. Art thou tempted to deny God ? So was he.
Art thou tempted to kill thyself? So was he. Art thou
tempted by the vanities of the world ? So was he. Art thou
tempted to idolatry ? So was he ; yea, even to worship the
devil. He was tempted from the manger to the cross. He
was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. The Head in
heaven is sympathizing with the feet that are pinched and pressed
on earth, and says, 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?'"
(195) H

2 1 o HIS INNER LIFE
I should find no difficulty in adding to these extracts, if
the space at my command did not forbid me. Feeble and
unsatisfactory, as they undoubtedly are, in the form of a trans
lation, they will perhaps give my readers some idea of what
Rowlands was in the pulpit, so far as concerns the working of
his mind. Of his manner and delivery, of course, they cannot
give the least idea. It would be easy to fill pages with short,
epigrammatic, proverbial sayings culled from his sermons,
of which there is a rich abundance in many passages. But
enough, perhaps, has been brought forward to give a general
impression of the preaching that did such wonders at Llan
geitho. Those who want to know more of it should try to get
hold ofthe little volume of translated sermons from which my
extracts have been made. Faintly and inadequately as it repre
sents the great Welsh preacher, it is still a volume worth hav
ing, and one that ought to be better known than it is. Scores
of books are reprinted in the present day which are not half so
valuable as Rowlands' eight sermons.
The inner life and private character of the great Welsh
preacher would form a deeply interesting subject, no doubt, if
we knew more about them. But the utter absence of all
materials except a few scattered anecdotes leaves us very much
in the dark. Unless the memoirs of great men are written
by relatives, neighbours, or contemporaries, it stands to reason
that we shall know little of anything but their public conduct
and doings. This applies eminently to Daniel Rowlands. He
had no Boswell near him to chronicle the details of his long
and laborious life, and to present him to us as he appeared at
home. The consequence is, that a vast quantity of interesting
matter, which the Church of Christ would like to know, lies
buried with him in his grave.
One thing, at any rate, is very certain. His private life was
as holy, blameless, and consistent, as the life of a Christian
can be. Some fifteen years ago, the Quarterly Review contained

AND PR1VA TE CHAR A CTER. 2 1 1
an article insinuating that he was addicted to drunkenness,
which called forth an indignant and complete refutation from
many competent witnesses in South Wales, and specially from
the neighbourhood of Llangeitho. That such charges should
be made against good men need never surprise us. Slander
and lying are the devil's favourite weapons, when he wants to
injure the mightiest assailants of his kingdom. Satan is pre
eminently " a liar." Bunyan, Whitefield, and Wesley had to
drink ofthe same bitter cup as Rowlands. But that the charge
against Rowlands was a mere groundless, malicious falsehood,
was abundantly proved by Mr. Griffith, the vicar of Aberdare, in
a reply to the article of the Quarterly Review, printed at Car
diff. We need not be reminded, if we read our Bibles, who it
was of whom the wicked Jews said, " Behold a man gluttonous,
and a winebibber, a friend of publicans and sinners" (Matt.
xi. 19). If the children of this world cannot prevent the gos
pel being preached, they try to blacken the character of the
preacher. What saith the Scripture? "The disciple is not
above his master, nor the servant above his lord. It is enough
for the disciple that he be as his master, and the servant as his
lord. If they have called the Master of the house Beelzebub,
how much more shall they call them of his household ?"
(Matt. x. 24, 25).
The only light that we can throw on the character and private
habits of Rowlands is derived from the fevv anecdotes which
still survive about him. I shall, therefore, conclude my account
of him by presenting them to my readers without note or com
ment. One leading feature in Rowlands' character was his humility.
Like every eminent servant of God of whom much is known,
he had a deep and abiding sense of his own sinfulness, weak
ness, and corruption, and his constant need of God's grace.
On seeing a vast concourse of people coming to hear him, he
would frequently exclaim : " Oh, may the Lord have mercy on

2 1 2 HIS PR A YERFULNESS.
me, and help me, a poor worm, sinful dust and ashes !" — When
a backslider was pointed out to him, who had once been one
of his followers, he said : " It is to be feared indeed that he is
one of my disciples ; for had he been one of my Lord's disciples,
he would not have been in such a state of sin and rebellion."
He often used to say, during his latter days, that there were four
lessons which he had laboured to learn throughout the whole
course of his religious life, and yet that he was but a dull
scholar even in his old age. These lessons were the following
— (i.) To repent without despairing; (2.) To believe without
being presumptuous ; (3.) To rejoice without falling into levity;
(4.) To be angry without sinning. He used also often to say,
that a self-righteous legal spirit in man was like his shirt, a gar
ment which he puts on first, and puts off last.
A habit oi praying much was another leading characteristic of
Rowlands. It is said that he used often to go to the top of
Aeron Hills, and there pour out his heart before God in the
most tender and earnest manner for the salvation of the
numerous inhabitants of the country which lay around him.
" He lived," says Morgan, " in the spirit of prayer, and hence
his extraordinary success. On one occasion having engaged
to preach at a certain church which stood on an eminence, he
had to cross a valley in sight of the people, who were waiting
for him in the churchyard. They saw him descend into the
bottom of the valley, but then lost sight of him for some time.
At last, as he did not come up by the time they expected, and
service-time had arrived, some of them went down the hill in
search of him. They discovered him, at length, on his knees
in a retired spot a little out of the road. He got up when he
saw them, and went with them, expressing sorrow for the
delay; but-he added, ' I had a delightful opportunity below.'
The sermon which followed was most extraordinary in power
and effect."
Diligence was another distinguishing feature in the character

HIS SELF-DENIA L. 213
of Rowlands. Pie was continually improving his mind, by read
ing, meditation, and study. He used to be up and reading as
early as four o'clock in the morning ; and he took immense
pains in the preparation of his sermons. Morgan says, " Every
part of God's Word, at length, became quite familiar to him.
He could tell chapter and verse of any text or passage of Scrip
ture that was mentioned to him. Indeed the word of God
dwelt richly in him. He had,* moreover, a most retentive
memory, and when preaching, could repeat the texts referred
to, off-hand, most easily and appropriately."
Self-denial was another leading feature of Rowlands' char
acter. He was all his life a very poor man ; but he was always
a contented one, and lived in the simplest way. Twice he re
fused the offer of good livings — one in North Wales, and the
other in South Wales — and preferred to remain a dependent
curate with his flock at Llangeitho. The offer in one case
came from the excellent John Thornton. When he heard that
Rowlands had refused it, and ascertained his reasons, he wrote
to his son, saying, " I had a high opinion of your father before,
but now I have a still higher opinion of him, though he declines
my offer. The reasons he assigns are highly creditable to him.
It is not a usual thing with me to allow other people to go to
my pocket; but tell your father that he is fully welcome to do
so whenever he pleases." The residence of the great Welsh
evangelist throughout life was nothing but a small cottage pos
sessing no great accommodation. His journeys, when he went
about preaching, were made on horseback, until at last a small
carriage was left him as a legacy in his old age. He was con
tent, when journeying in his Master's service, with very poor
fare and very indifferent lodgings. He says himself, " We used
to travel over hills and mountains, on our little nags, without
anything to eat but the bread and cheese we carried in our
pockets, and without anything to drink but water from the
springs. If we had a little buttermilk in some cottages we

2 H HIS COURAGE.
thought it a great thing. But now men must have tea, and
some, too, must have brandy 1" Never did man seem so
thoroughly to realize the primitive and apostolic rule of life —
" Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content."
Courage was another prominent feature in Rowlands' char
acter. He was often fiercely persecuted when he went about
preaching, and even his life was sometimes in danger. Once,
when he was preaching at Aberystwith, a man swore in a
dreadful manner that he would shoot him immediately. He
aimed his gun, and pulled the trigger, but it would not go
off. — On another occasion his enemies actually placed gun
powder under the place where he was about to stand when
preaching, and laid a train to a distant point, so that at a
given time they might apply a match, and blow up the
preacher and congregation. However, before the time arrived, a
good man providentially discovered the whole plot, and brought
it to nothing. — On other occasions riotous mobs were assembled,
stones were thrown, drums beaten, and every effort made to
prevent the sermon being heard. None of these things ever
seems to have deterred Rowlands for a moment. As long as
he had strength to work he went on with his Master's busi
ness, unmoved by opposition and persecution. Like Colonel
Gardiner, he " feared God, and beside him he feared nothing."
He had given himself to the work of preaching the gospel,
and from this work he allowed neither clergy nor laity, bishops
nor gentry, rich nor poor, to keep him back.
Fervent and deep feeling was the last characteristic which I
mark in Rowlands. He never did anything by halves.
Whether preaching or praying, whether in church or in the
open air, he seems to have done all he did with heart and
soul, and mind and strength. " He possessed as much ani
mal spirits," says one witness, "as were sufficient for half-a-
dozen men." This energy seems to have had an inspiring
effect about it, and to have swept everything before it like a

ROWLAND HILL'S ANECDOTE. 215
fire. One who went to hear him every month from Carnar
vonshire, gives a striking account of his singular fervour when
Rowlands was preaching on John iii. 16. He says, " He dwelt
with such overwhelming, extraordinary thoughts on the love
of God, and the vastness of his gift to man, that I was
swallowed up in amazement. I did not know that my feet
were on the ground ; yea, I had no idea where I was, whether
on earth or in heaven. But presently he cried out with a
most powerful voice, ' Praised be God for keeping the Jews
in ignorance respecting the greatness of the Person in their
hands ! Had they known who he was, they would never have
presumed to touch him, much less to drive nails through his
blessed hands and feet, and to put a crown of thorns on his
holy head. For had they known, they would not have cruci
fied the Lord of glory.' "
I will wind up this account of Rowlands by mentioning a
little incident which the famous Rowland Hill often spoke
of in his latter days. He was attending a meeting of Metho
dist ministers in Wales in one of his visits, when a man,
nearly a hundred years old, got up from a corner of the
room and addressed the meeting in the following words: —
"Brethren, let me tell you this: I have heard Daniel Row
lands preach, and I heard him once say, Except your con
sciences be cleansed by the blood of Christ, you must all
perish in the eternal fires." Rowlands, at that time, had been
dead more than a quarter of a century. Yet, even at that
interval, " though dead he spoke." It is a faithful saying, and
worthy of all remembrance, that the ministry which exalts
Christ crucified most, is the ministry which produces most last
ing effects. Never, perhaps, did any preacher exalt Christ more
than Rowlands did, and never did preacher leave behind him
such deep and abiding marks in the isolated corner of the
world where he laboured a hundred years ago.

VIII.
mir §«mbrj£ antr {lis |$tmisfrij.

CHAPTER I.
Born at Kingston, Notts, 1716 — Educated at Nottingham — Fails to learn the Business of a
Grazier — Goes to Clare Hall, Cambridge, 1734 — Elected Fellow of Clare, 1742 —
Curate of Stapleford, 1749 — Vicar of Everton, 1755 — Begins to Preach the Full Gospel,
1757 — Open-air Preaching — Itinerant and Extra-parochial Ministrations — Singular Phy
sical Effect on some Hearers — Opposition and Persecution — Dies, 1793 — His Epitaph.
HUNDRED years ago there were spiritual giants in
the Eastern Counties of England, as well as in Lan
cashire and Wales. The sixth leader of the great
revival of last century whom I wish to introduce to my readers,
was a man as remarkable in his way as either Grimshaw or Row
lands. Like them, he lived in an obscure and out-of-the-way
village. But, like them, he shook the earth around him, and was
one of those who "turn the world upside down." The man I mean
is John Berridge, Vicar of Everton, in the county of Bedfordshire.
Of all the English evangelists of the eighteenth century, this
good man was undeniably the most quaint and eccentric. With
out controversy he was a very odd person, a comet rather than
a planet, a man who must be put in a class by himself, a
minister who said and did things which nobody else could say
or do. But the eccentricities of the Vicar of Everton are pro
bably better known than his graces. With all his peculiarities,
he was a man of rare gifts, and deeply taught by the Holy Ghost.
Above all, he was a mighty instrument for good in the orbit in

BLR 1 H OF JOHN BERRIDGE. 2 1 7
which he moved. Few preachers, perhaps, a hundred years
ago, were more honoured by God and more useful to souls than
the eccentric John Berridge.
My account of this good man is compiled from very scanty
materials. A single volume, of no great size, containing his
literary remains, and a short biography by his curate, Mr. Whit-
tingham, is the only source of information about him that I can
find. In this, however, there is nothing that should surprise us.
He was never married, and lived entirely alone. He resided
in an isolated rural parish, far away from London, in days when
there were no railways, and even turnpike roads were not good.
He was settled at a distance from his own family, in a county
where, apparently, he had no relatives or connections. He
wrote very little, and was chiefly known by his preaching.
Add to these facts the mighty one, that Berridge belonged to
" a sect everywhere spoken against," and we need not wonder
that the records remaining of him are very few. But there is a
memorial of him that will never perish. The last day will show
that his Master kept " a book of remembrance," and that " his
record was on high."
John Berridge was born at Kingston, in the county of Not
tinghamshire, on March 1, 17 16, within a very few years of
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine, and Rowlands. The
village in which he was born may be seen any day from Keg-
worth Station by those who travel to the north along the Mid
land Railway. His father was a wealthy farmer and grazier
at Kingston, who married a Miss Sarah Hathwaite, in the year
1 7 14. John Berridge was his eldest son. He had three other
sons, about whom I can find out nothing, except that his brother
Thomas lived and died at Chatteris, in the Isle of Ely, and
survived the subject of this memoir.*
* A well-informed correspondent expresses some doubt as to Thomas Berridge having
died at Chatteris. He says there is reason to think that he lived and died at Draycott in
Derbyshire. He also says that in 184T a direct lineal descendant of one of John Berridge's
brothers was living at Sutton-Bonnington, in Nottinghamshire.

21 8 EDUCA TED A T NOTTINGHAM.
The first fourteen years of Berridge's life were chiefly spent
with an aunt at Nottingham, with whom he was a particular
favourite. Here also he received the groundwork of his educa
tion, but at what school, and under what teacher, I have been
unable to ascertain. It is evident that even when a boy he was
remarkable for seriousness and steadiness ; so much so, as to
excite the attention of all who knew him. There is not, how
ever, the slightest proof that he knew anything at this time of
scriptural religion ; nor was it likely, I fear, in those days, that
he would hear anything about it in Nottingham. No doubt, in
after-life he had abundant reason to be thankful for his early
morality. Steadiness and correctness of life, of course, are not
conversion, and save no man's soul. But still they are not to
be despised. The scars left by youthful sins, even after for
giveness and complete reconciliation with God, are never wholly
effaced, and the recollection of them often causes bitter sorrow.
Berridge himself ascribes his first serious impressions to a
singular circumstance : — " One day, as he was returning from
school, a boy, who lived near his aunt, invited him into his
house, and asked if he might read to him out of the Bible. He
consented. This, however, being repeated several times, he
began to feel a secret aversion, and would gladly have declined
if he had dared. But having obtained the reputation of being
pious, he was afraid to risk it by refusal. One day, however,
as he was returning from a fair, where he had been spending a
holiday, he hesitated to pass the door of his neighbour, lest he
should be invited as before. The boy, however, was waiting
for him, and not only invited him to come in and read the
Bible, but also asked if they should pray together. It was then
that Berridge began to perceive he was not right before God, or
else he would not have felt the aversion that he did to the boy's
invitations. And such, he says, was the effect of that day's
interview, that not long afterwards he himself began a similar
practice with his companions."

UNFIT FOR A GRAZIER. 219
Facts such as these are always interesting to those who study
God's ways of dealing with souls. It is clear that he often
"moves on the face" of hearts by his Spirit long before he
introduces light, order, and life. We must never despise the
" day of small things." The impressions and convictions of
children, especially, ought never to be rudely treated or over
looked. They have often a green spot in their characters which
ought to be carefully cultivated by good advice, kind encourage
ment, and prayer. Berridge, unfortunately, seems to have had
no one near him at this critical period to guide and direct him.
Who can tell but the counsel of some Aquila or Priscilla, if they
had found him at Nottingham, might have saved him from
many years of darkness, and from many agonizing exercises of
mind? At the age of fourteen Berridge left school, and returned to
his home at Kingston, with the intention of taking up his
father's business. This plan, however, soon fell to the ground.
For some time his father used to take him about to markets
and fairs, in order that he might become familiar with the price
of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and learn his business by observa
tion and experience. The next step, of course, was to ask him
to give his judgment of the value of animals which his father
wished to purchase — a matter in which necessarily lies the
whole secret of a grazier's success. Here, however, poor John
was so invariably wrong in his estimates, that old Mr. Berridge
began to despair of ever making him fit to be a grazier; and
used often to say, " John, I find you cannot form any idea of
the price of cattle, and I shall have to send you to college to
be a light to the Gentiles."
How long this state of suspense about Berridge's future life
continued, we have no means of ascertaining. In all proba
bility it went on for two or three years, and was a cause of much
family trouble. An old Nottinghamshire grazier was not likely
to let his eldest son forsake oxen and sheep, and go to college,

220 GOES TO CLARE HALL, CAMBRIDGE.
without a hard struggle to prevent him. But the son's distaste
for his father's calling was deep and insuperable. His religious
impressions, moreover, were kept up and deepened by conversa
tion with a tailor in Kingston, with whom he became so inti
mate that his friends threatened to bind him to articles of
apprenticeship under him. At last old Mr. Berridge, seeing
that his son had no apparent inclination for anything but read
ing and religion, had the good sense to give up his cherished
plans, and to consent to his going to Cambridge. And thus
John Berridge was finally entered at Clare Hall on October 28,
1734, in the nineteenth year of his age.
God's ways are certainly not like man's ways. Curious as it
may appear, for fourteen or fifteen years after entering Clare
Hall, John Berridge seems to have gone backward rather than
forward in spiritual things. He took his degree as B.A. in 1738,
and as M.A. in 1742 ; and about the same time was elected
Fellow of his College, and resided there, doing comparatively
nothing, till 1749. He was a hard-reading man, and made such
progress in every branch of literature that he obtained a high
reputation in the University as a thorough scholar. A clergy
man who knew him well for fifty years, said that he was as
familiar with Greek and Latin as he was with his mother tongue.
He says himself that he sometimes, at this period of his life,
read fifteen hours a-day. But his very cleverness became a
snare to him. His natural love of humour and social disposi
tion entailed on him many temptations. His acquaintance was
courted by people of high rank and position ; and men like the
elder Pitt, afterwards Lord Chatham, were among his intimate
associates and friends. All this, no doubt, was very pleasant to
flesh and blood, but very bad for his soul. In short, he had to
learn, by bitter experience, that wit and brilliant powers of con
versation, like beauty, musical skill, and a fine voice, are very
perilous possessions. They seem to help people forward in this
world, but they are in reality most dangerous to their possessors.

HIS ORDINATION. 221
Whittingham, his biographer, says of him at this time : —
" ' Hudibras ' was so familiar to him, that he was at no loss in
using any part of it on any occasion. While he was at college,
if it was known he would be present at any public dinner, the
table was sure to be crowded with company, who were delighted
with the singularity of his conversation and his witty sayings.
But as ' evil communications corrupt good manners,' so Ber
ridge speedily caught the spirit of his company, and drank in
the Socinian scheme of religion to such a degree that he lost
all his serious impressions, and discontinued private prayer for
the space of ten years, a few intervals excepted ! In these in
tervals he would weep bitterly, reflecting on his sad state of
mind compared with what it was when he first came to the
University ; and he would often say to a fellow- student, after
wards an eminent clergyman, ' Oh that it were with me as in
years past !' "
This part of Berridge's history is indeed a melancholy picture.
It is the more so when we remember that it was during this
period of his life that he must have taken holy orders as a Fel
low of Clare Hall, and professed that he was " inwardly moved
by the Holy Ghost" to take upon him the office of a minister !
He was probably ordained by the Bishop of Ely. How utterly
unfit he was for the ministerial office, we may see at a glance
from the account given of him by Whittingham. Yet it is a
sorrowful fact, I fear, that the case of Berridge has only been
that of thousands. No earthly condition appears to be so
deadening to a man's soul as the position of a resident Fellow
of a college, and the society of a Common room at Oxford or
Cambridge. If Berridge fell for a season before the influences
brought to bear upon his soul at Clare Hall, we must in justice
remember that he was exposed to extraordinary temptations.
How hardly shall resident Fellows of colleges enter the kingdom
of God ! It was a miracle of grace that he was not cast away for
• ever, and did not sink beneath the waters, never to rise again.

222 CURATE OF STAPLEFORD.
In the year 1749 it pleased God to awaken his conscience
once more, and to revive within him his old religious im
pressions. In that year, after eleven years of apparent idleness,
he began to feel a desire to do something as a clergyman, and
accepted the curacy of Stapleford, near Cambridge. At this
period, it will be remembered, he was thirty-three years old, and
thus had lost no less than ten valuable years of time.
Berridge entered on his duties as curate of Stapleford with
great zeal, and a sincere desire to do good, and served his
church regularly from college for no less than six years. He
took great pains with his parishioners, and pressed upon them
very earnestly the importance of sanctification, but without pro
ducing the slightest effect on their lives. His preaching, even
at this time, was striking, plain, and attractive. His life was
moral, upright, and correct. His diligence as a pastor was
undeniable. Yet his ministry, throughout these six years, was
entirely without fruit, to his own great annoyance and mortifica
tion. The fact was, that up to this time he was utterly ignorant
of the gospel. He did not really know what message he had
to deliver to his hearers. He knew nothing aright of Christ
crucified, of justification by faith in his blood, of salvation by
grace, of the complete present forgiveness of all who believe,
and of the absolute necessity of coming to Christ as our Saviour,
as the very first step towards heaven. At present these blessed
truths were hidden from the Fellow of Clare College, and he
could tell his people nothing about them. No wonder that he
did no good ! If he wounded, he could not heal. If he pulled
down, he could not build up. If he showed his flock that they
were wrong, he had no idea what could set them right. In
short, his Christianity was like a solar system without the sun,
and of course did no good to his congregation. There can be
no doubt that he learned lessons as curate of Stapleford which
he remembered to the last day of his life. He learned the
thorough uselessness of a ministry, however zealous, in which

VICAR OF EVERTON. 223
Christ has not his rightful office, and faith has not its rightful
place. But we may well believe that the clever and accom
plished Fellow of Clare learned his lesson with much humiliation
and with many bitter tears.
In the year 1755 Berridge was presented by his college to
the vicarage of Everton, in Bedfordshire. He took up his
residence at once on his living, and never moved again till he
was called away to a better world, after holding his cure for no
less than thirty-eight years. It was at this place that his eyes
were opened to the whole truth as it is in Jesus, and the whole
tone of his ministry was changed. It was here that he first
found out the enormous mistakes of which he had been guilty
as a teacher of others, and began to preach in a scriptural
manner the real gospel of Christ. The circumstances under
which this change took place are so well described by his bio
grapher Whittingham, that I think it best to give the account in
his own words.
" At Everton," he says, " Mr. Berridge at first pressed sanctifi
cation and regeneration on his hearers as strenuously as he had
at Stapleford, but with as little success. Nor was it to be
wondered at, as his preaching rather tended to make them trust
in themselves as righteous, than to depend on Christ for the
remission of sins. Having continued for two years in this
unsuccessful mode of preaching, and his desire to do good con
tinually increasing, he began to be discouraged. A doubt arose
in his mind whether he was right himself, and preached as he
ought to do. This suggestion he rejected for some time with
disdain, supposing the advantages of education, which he had
improved to a high degree, could not have left him ignorant of
the best mode of instructing his people. This happened about
Christmas 1757. But not being able to repel these secret mis
givings, his mind was brought into a state of embarrassment
and distress to which hitherto he had been a stranger. How
ever, this had the happy effect of making him cry mightily to

224 FAITH AND BELLEF.
God for direction. The constant language of his heart was
this — ' Lord, if I am right, keep me so ; if I am not right, make
me so, and lead me to the knowledge of the truth as it is in
Jesus.' — After the incessant repetition of this child-like prayer,
it is no wonder that God should lend a gracious ear, and return
him an answer, which he did almost two days after. As he sat
one morning musing on a text of Scripture, the following words
seemed to dart into his mind like a voice from heaven — ' Cease
from thine own works; only believe.' At once the scales
seemed to fall from his eyes, and he perceived the application.
He saw the rock on which he had been splitting for many years,
by endeavouring to blend the Law and the Gospel, and to
unite Christ's righteousness with his own. Immediately he
began to think on the words 'faith' and 'believe,' and looking
into his Concordance, found them very frequently used. This
surprised him so much, that he instantly resolved to preach
Jesus Christ and salvation by faith. He therefore composed
several sermons of this description, and addressed his hearers
in a manner very unusual, and far more pointed than before.
" God very soon began to bless this new style of ministry.
After he had preached in this strain two or three Sabbaths, and
was wondering whether he was yet right, as he had perceived
no better effect from them than from his former discourses, one
of his parishioners came to inquire for him. Being introduced,
he said, 'Well, Sarah, what is the matter?' — 'Matter!' she
replied ; ' why, I don't know what is the matter. Those new
sermons ! I find we are all to be lost now. I can neither
eat, drink, nor sleep. I don't know what is to become of me.'
The same week came two or three more on a like errand. It
is easy to conceive what relief these visits must have afforded
his mind in a state of anxiety and suspense. So confirmed was
he thereby in the persuasion that his late impressions were from
God, that he determined in future to know nothing but Jesus
Christ and him crucified. He was deeply humbled that he

PREACHES THE GOSPEL. 225
should have spent so many years of his life to no better purpose
than to confirm his hearers in their ignorance. He therefore
immediately burned all his old sermons, and shed tears of joy
over their destruction. This circumstance aroused the neigh
bourhood. His church soon became crowded with hearers, and
God gave testimony to the word of his grace in the frequent
conviction and conversion of sinners."
In describing this period of his life, Berridge says himself, in
a letter to a friend : " I preached up sanctification by the works
of the law very earnestly for six years in Stapleford, and never
brought one soul to Christ. I did the same at Everton for two
years, without any success at all. But as soon as I preached
Jesus Christ, and faith in his blood, then believers were added
to the Church continually ; then people flocked from all parts
to hear the glorious sound of the gospel ; some coming six
miles, others eight, and others ten. And what is the reason
why my ministry was not blessed, when I preached up salvation
partly by faith and partly by works ? It is because this doctrine
is not of God, and because he will prosper no ministers but such
as preach salvation in his own appointed way ; namely, by faith
in Jesus Christ."
I pity the man who can read such an account as this without
interest. If ever there was a case in which we can see clearly
the hand of the Holy Spirit, it was this case of John Berridge.
Here is a clergyman in the prime of bodily and mental vigour,
suddenly changed from being a preacher of morality into a
preacher of Christ's gospel. He is not a mere boy, but a man
of forty-two years of age, well read, of acknowledged literary
attainments, and the very reverse of a fool. He is not per
suaded and influenced by any living person, and seems to have
no earthly friend or adviser. Yet all of a sudden he begins to
preach the very same doctrine as Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw,
Romaine, and Rowlands, and with the same effects. One
account alone can be given of the whole affair. It was the
(195) 1 5

226 BEGINS OPEN-AIR PREACHING.
finger of God. Flesh and blood did not reveal the truth to
Berridge, but our Father who is in heaven. Well would it be
for the churches if there were more cases like his !
Once enlightened by the Holy Ghost and brought into the
liberty of God's children, John Berridge made rapid advances
both in preaching and practice. He was not a man to do any
thing by halves, whether converted or unconverted ; and as
soon as he was converted he threw himself with constitutional
energy into his Master's service, with all his might, and soul,
and strength. The learned Fellow of Clare soon ceased to
preach written sermons, having discovered, by a providential
accident, that he possessed the happy gift of preaching without
book. His next step was to commence preaching outside his
own parish, all over the district in which he lived, like a
missionary. This he began on June 22, 1758. One of the
first-fruits of this itinerant aggression was a clergyman named
Hicks, rector of Wrestlingworth, near Everton, who afterwards
became a very useful man, and a faithful labourer in Christ's
vineyard. His third and crowning step was to commence
preaching out of doors. This he began doing on May 14, 1759,
and describes it himself in a letter quoted by Whittingham : —
" On Monday week, Mr. Hicks accompanied me to Meldred.
On the way we called at a farm-house. After dinner, I went
into the yard, and seeing nearly a hundred and fifty people, I
called for a table, and preached for the first time in the open
air. We then went to Meldred, where I preached in a field to
about four thousand people. In the morning, at five, Mr.
Hicks preached in the same field to about a thousand. Here
the presence of the Lord was wonderfully among us ; and I
trust, beside many that were slightly wounded, nearly thirty
received heart-felt conviction."
Berridge had now climbed to the top of the tree as an evan
gelist. He preached the pure gospel ; he preached extempore ;
he preached anywhere and everywhere where he could get

EXTENT OF HIS LABOURS. 227
hearers ; he preached, like his Master, in the open air, if need
required. We cannot therefore wonder that he was soon pub
licly known as a fellow-labourer with Whitefield, Wesley, Grim
shaw, and Romaine, and, as a popular preacher, little inferior
to any of these great men. His life from this time forth, with
little intermission, for more than thirty years, was spent in
preaching the gospel. To this work he gave himself wholly.
In season and out of season, out of doors or in doors, in
churches or in barns, in streets or in fields, in his parish or out
of his parish, the old Fellow of Clare College was constantly
telling the story of the Cross, and exhorting sinners to repent,
believe, and be saved. He became acquainted with Lady
Huntingdon, John Thornton, John Wesley, Fletcher, John
Newton, and other eminent Christians of his day, and kept up
friendly intercourse with them. He went to London some
times in the winter, and preached occasionally in the well-
known Tabernacle in Tottenham Court Road. But, as a gene
ral rule, he seldom went far from his own district, and rarely
went into society. He found enough, and more than enough,
to do in meeting the spiritual wants of congregations within
that district, and seldom went to regions beyond.
The extent of his labours was- prodigious. He used to preach
in every part of Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, and Hunting
donshire, and in many parts of Hertfordshire, Essex, and
Suffolk.* He would often preach twelve times, and ride a
hundred miles in a week. Nor was he content with preaching.
He watched carefully over those who were aroused by his ser
mons, and provided lay evangelists to look after them when he
left them. Some of these evangelists appear to have been
nothing but humble labouring men, for whose maintenance he
had to provide out of his own pocket. But expenses like these

* It is a singular fact that I can find no record of Berridge ever having visited Notting
hamshire, or preached in his own county. I can only suppose that his relatives did noi
sympathize with him, and gave him no encouragement to come among them.

228 EFFECTS OF HIS PREACHING.
he cheerfully defrayed out of his own purse as long as he had
a shilling to spare, counting it an honour to spend his income
in furthering Christ's gospel. When he had nothing of his own
to give, he would ask help of the well-known John Thornton,
the London merchant ; and to the honour of that good man he
never seems to have asked in vain.
The spiritual effects that were produced by his preaching
were immense. In fact, a singular blessing appears to have
attended his ministry from the very moment that he began to
preach the gospel. When we find that he was the means of
awakening no less than four thousand persons in one single
year, we may have some little idea of the good that he did in
his district by his thirty years' preaching. In calculations like
these, allowance must always be made for a vast amount of
exaggeration, and for an equally vast amount of excitement and
false profession. Still, after every reasonable deduction has
been made, there is no just ground for doubting that Berridge
was the means of doing good to thousands of souls. Wherever
he went he produced some impression. Some were reclaimed
from sin, some were awakened and convinced, and some were
thoroughly converted to God. If this is not doing good, there
is no such thing as doing good in the world. Spiritual work
done in rural parishes is, perhaps, less "seen of men" than any
work within the province of the Christian ministry. The work
that Berridge did among farmers and labourers had few to pro
claim and chronicle it. But I strongly suspect the last day will
prove that he was a man who seldom preached in vain. How
few there are of whom this can be said 1
It is undeniable that at certain periods of Berridge's ministry
very curious physical effects were produced on those who were
aroused by his preaching. Some of his hearers cried out aloud
hysterically, some were thrown into strong convulsions, and
some fell into a kind of trance or catalepsy, which lasted a long
time. These physical effects were carefully noticed by John

OPPOSITION AND PERSECUTION. 229
Wesley and others who witnessed them, and certainly tended to
bring discredit on the gospel, and to prejudice worldly people.
But it is only fair to Berridge to say, that he never encouraged
these demonstrations, and certainly did not regard them as a
necessary mark of conversion. That such phenomena will
sometimes appear in cases of strong religious excitement —
that they are peculiarly catching and infectious, especially
among young women — that even the most scientific medical
men are greatly puzzled to explain them, — all these are facts
which have been thoroughly established within the last twenty
years during the Irish revival. To attempt to depreciate Ber
ridge's usefulness because of these things, is simply ridiculous.
Whatever the faults of the vicar of Everton were, he certainly
does not seem to have favoured fanaticism. That he was per
plexed by the physical demonstrations I have described, and
at first attached more value to them than they deserved, is the
utmost that can be said against him on the subject. But, after
all, the same may be said of many calm and sober-minded wit
nesses who saw the Ulster revival in 1858. In short, the whole
subject, like demoniacal possession, is a very deep and mys
terious one, and there we must be content to leave it. But a
minister ought certainly not to be put down as a fanatic because
people go into convulsions under his preaching
It is needless to tell any Christian that Berridge was fiercely
persecuted by the world throughout the whole period of his
ministry. No name was too bad to be given to him. No
means were left untried by his enemies to stop him in his useful
career. Foremost, of course, among his persecutors were the
unconverted clergy of Bedfordshire, Pluntingdonshire, and Cam
bridgeshire, who, like the dog in the manger, would neither do
good themselves nor let any one else do it for them. But,
singularly enough, no weapon forged against the vicar of Everton
seemed to prosper. Like Grimshaw at Haworth, there was an
invisible wall of protection around him, which his bitterest foes

23° COMPLAINT TO THE BISHOP.
could not pull down. Irregular as his proceedings undoubtedly
were, offensive as they necessarily must have been to the idle,
worldly clergymen who lived near him, they appeared unable
to lay hold upon him and shut his mouth, from one end of his
ministry to the other. From some extraordinary cause which
we cannot now explain, the itinerant evangelist of Everton was
never stopped by his persecutors for a single day ! So true is
the Word of God : " When a man's ways please the Lord, he
maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him."
One special interposition of God in order to protect Berridge
from his enemies was so remarkable that it deserves particular
notice. It derives a peculiar interest from the fact that the
record of it has been handed down in the good man's own
words. He says : —
" Soon after I began to preach the gospel of Christ at Ever
ton, the church was filled from the villages around us, and the
neighbouring clergy felt themselves hurt at their churches being
deserted. A person of my own parish, too, was much offended.
He did not like to see so many strangers, and be so incom
moded. Between them both, it was resolved, if possible, to
turn me out of my living. For this purpose, they complained
of me to the bishop of the diocese, that I had preached out of
my parish. I was soon after sent for by the bishop ; I did not
much like my errand, but I went. When I arrived, the bishop
accosted me in a very abrupt manner : ' Well, Berridge, they
tell me you go about preaching out of your own parish. Did I
institute you to the livings of A  y, or E  n, or P  n ?'
— ' No, my lord,' said I ; ' neither do I claim any of these
livings. The clergymen enjoy them undisturbed by me.' — ¦
' Well, but you go and preach there, which you have no right
to do !' — ' It is true, my lord, I was one day at E  n, and
there were a few poor people assembled together, and I admon
ished them to repent of their sins, and to believe in the Lord
Jesus Christ for the salvation of their souls ; and I remember

THREA TENING AND ENTREA TING. 23 1
seeing five or six clergymen that day, my lord, all out of their
own parishes upon E  n bowling-green.' — ' Poh ! ' said his
lordship ; ' I tell you, you have no right to preach out of your
own parish ; and if you do not desist from it, you will very
likely be sent to Huntingdon gaol.' — ' As to that, my lord,' said
I, ' I have no greater liking to Huntingdon gaol than other
people ; but I had rather go thither with a good conscience,
than live at my liberty without one.' — Here his lordship looked
very hard at me, and very gravely assured me ' that I was be
side myself, and that in a few months' time I should either be
better or worse.' — ' Then,' said I, ' my lord, you may make your
self quite happy in this business ; for if I should be better, you
suppose I should desist from this practice of my own accord ; and
if worse, you need not send me to Huntingdon gaol, as I shall be
provided with an accommodation in Bedlam.' — His lordship
now changed his mode of attack. Instead of threatening, he
began to entreat. ' Berridge,' said he, ' you know I have long
been your friend, and I wish to be so still. I am continually
teazed with the complaints of the clergymen around you. Only
assure me that you will keep to your own parish ; you may do
as you please there. I have but little time to live ; do not
bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.' — At this
instant two gentlemen were announced, who desired to speak
with his lordship. ' Berridge,' said he, ' go to your inn, and
come again at such an hour, and dine with me.' — I went, and,
on entering a private room, fell immediately upon my knees.
I could bear threatening, but knew not how to withstand en
treaty, especially the entreaty of a respectable old man.
" At the appointed time I returned. At dinner I was treated
with great respect. The two gentlemen also dined with us, I
found they had been, informed who I was, as they sometimes
cast their eyes towards me, in some such manner as one would
glance at a monster. After dinner his lordship took me into
the garden. ' Well, Berridge,' said he, ' have you considered of

23 2 AN ENEMY BECOMES A FRIEND.
my request ?'— ' I have, my lord,' said I, ' and have been upon
my knees concerning it' — ' Well, and will you promise me that
you will preach no more out of your own parish?'- — ' It would
afford me great pleasure,' said I, ' to comply with your lordship's
request, if I could do it with a good conscience. I am satisfied
the Lord has blessed my labours of this kind, and I dare not
desist' — ' A good conscience !' said his lordship ; ' do you not
know that it is contrary to the canons of the Church ?' — ' There
is one canon, my lord,' I replied, ' which says, " Go preach the
gospel to every creature." ' — ' But why should you wish to inter
fere with the charge of other men ? One man cannot preach
the gospel to all the world.'—' If they would preach the gospel
themselves,' said I, ' there would be no need for my preaching
it to their people ; but, as they do not, I cannot desist' — His
lordship then parted with me in some displeasure. I returned
home not knowing what would befall me, but thankful to God
that I had preserved a conscience void of offence.
" I took no measures for my own preservation ; but Divine
Providence worked for me in a way I never expected. When
I was at Clare Hall I was particularly acquainted with a certain
Fellow of that college, and we were both on terms of intimacy
with Mr. Pitt, the late Lord Chatham, who was at that time also
at the university. This Fellow of Clare Hall, when I began to
preach the gospel, became my enemy, and did me some injury.
At length, however, when he heard that I was likely to come
into trouble, and to be turned out of my living at Everton, his
heart relented. He began to think within himself, ' We shall
ruin this poor fellow among us.' This was just about the time
that I was sent for by the bishop. Of his own accord he writes
a letter to Mr. Pitt, saying nothing about my Methodism, but
to this effect : — ' Our old friend Berridge has got a living in
Bedfordshire, and I am told there is one of his neighbours who
gives him a great deal of trouble, has accused him to the bishop,
and, it is said, will turn him out of his living. I wish you would

OWEN'S VISIT TO BERRIDGE. 233
contrive to stop his proceedings.' Mr. Pitt was then a young
man, and, not desiring to apply himself to the bishop, spoke to
a certain nobleman about it to whom the bishop was indebted
for his promotion. This nobleman made it his business, within a
few days, to see the bishop, who was then in London. ' My lord,'
he said, ' I am informed you have a very honest fellow named
Berridge in your diocese, and that he has been ill-treated by a
litigious neighbour. I hear he has accused him to your lord
ship, and wishes to turn him out of his living. You would
oblige me, my lord, if you would take no notice of this person,
and not suffer the honest man to be interrupted' — The bishop
was astonished, and could not imagine in what manner things
could thus have got round. It would not do, however, to ob
ject; he was obliged to bow compliance, and so I continued
ever after uninterrupted in my sphere of action."
Great as Berridge's labours were, they do not appear to have
materially affected his bodily health. He seems to have pos
sessed one of those iron constitutions, which nothing but old
age can quite break down. He lived to be seventy-seven; and
though in his latter years a feeble old man, and very solitary,
without wife, sister, or brother, to minister to him, he was mer
cifully kept in great peace to the last. Henry Owen's account
of a visit to him in 1792, the year before he died, is very touch
ing and interesting. He says, " I lately visited my dear brother
Berridge. His sight is very dim, his ears can scarcely hear,
and his faculties are fast decaying, so that, if he continues any
time, he may outlive the use of them. But in this ruin of his
earthly tabernacle it is surprising to see the joy in his counte
nance, and the lively hope with which he looks for the day of
his dissolution. In his prayer with me and my children, we
were much affected by his commending himself to the Lord, as
quite alone, not able to read or hear, or do anything. But he
said, ' Lord, if I have thy presence and love, that sufficeth.' "
Berridge died at Everton vicarage on January 22nd, 1793.

234 DEATH OF BERRIDGE.
For some little time the infirmities natural to his years had pre
vented him doing much public work. But he was most merci
fully spared any long season of pain and disease, and died after
only a few days' illness, the weary wheels of life not so much
broken by sickness as worn out and standing still. His frame
of mind during his last days was very comfortable. He spoke
but little, but what he did say was in terms of gratitude for the
rich support he experienced in the prospect of eternity. He
felt the stability of the rock on which he had been long resting
his hopes of heaven ; and while speaking of the excellency and
preciousness of the Saviour, he said in an emphatic manner,
" What should I do now if I had no better foundation to rest
upon than what Dr. Priestley the Socinian points out?"
He was buried in Everton churchyard on the following Sun
day, amidst an immense concourse of people assembled from
all parts of the country.
Six clergymen, " devout men, carried him to his grave, and
made great lamentation over him." A funeral sermon was then
preached by the well-known Charles Simeon, from 2 Tim. iv. 7,
8, a text admirably well suited to the occasion. Old Henry
Venn of Yelling, his son John Venn, and Charles Simeon, were
among the few neighbours with whom the good old Vicar of
Everton felt entire sympathy; and his letters give frequent evi
dence of the value he set on them, and the pleasure he took in
their society.
Berridge's tomb is placed on the north-east side of Everton
churchyard, where formerly those only were buried who had
come to some dishonourable end. But before he died he fre
quently said that his remains should be laid in that part of the
churchyard, which, he said with characteristic pleasantry, might
be " a means of consecrating it." His epitaph, composed by
himself, is so remarkable in its way, that I think it needless to
make any excuse for giving it entire. It is inscribed on the
south side of his tomb, and at the time of his death required

HIS EPITAPH. 235
nothing but the date of that event being inserted to complete
it. True to himself Berridge was quaint even to his grave.
Here lie
the earthly remains of
John |3crrirjije,
LATE VICAR OF EVERTON,
AND AN ITINERANT SERVANT OF JESUS CHRIST,
WHO LOVED HIS MASTER AND HIS WORK,
AND AFTER RUNNING ON HIS ERRANDS MANY YEARS
WAS CALLED UP TO WAIT ON HIM ABOVE.
READER,
Art thou born again ?
No salvation without a new birth !
I was born in sin, February 1716.
Remained ignorant of my fallen state till 1730.
Lived proudly on faith and works for salvation fill 1754-
Was admitted to Everton vicarage, 1751.
Fled to Jesus alone for refuge, 1756.
Fell asleep in Christ, January 22, 1793.
I leave the Vicar of Everton here. I have yet other things to
tell about him, but I have no room to give them now. A few
anecdotes illustrating his character, and some account of his
sermons, literary remains, and correspondence, will form the
substance of another chapter.

CHAPTER II.
His Quaintness and Eccentricity — No Quaintness in his Outlines of Sermons — His Style
of Preaching Defended — Specimen of his Quaint Thoughts — His Humility, Love of
Christ, Kindness, Self-Denial, Shrewdness, Courage — His Sympathizing letters.
Every student of natural history knows well that some of God's
creatures are curiously odd-looking and grotesque. There are
birds, like the American toucan, with bills of such enormous

236 BERRIDGE'S QUAINTNESS AND ECCENTRICITY.
size that we cannot understand how they are used. There are
beasts, like the Mandril baboon, marked with such brilliant
blue and red colours that we are fairly at a loss to explain their
object. Yet they are all the work of an all-wise Creator. Our
Father made them all. Not one of them could have been made
better. Each and all, we need not doubt, is perfectly adapted
for the place in creation which it was intended to fill.
Thoughts such as these come across my mind when I survey
the character of John Berridge, Vicar of Everton. Never, pro
bably, did the grace of God dwell in a vessel of such singularly
tempered clay. There was a strange vein of quaintness in his
mental constitution, which seemed to crop out and bubble up
on every occasion. He was continually saying odd things, and
employing odd illustrations to convey his meaning. I do not
for a moment think that he was an intentional "joker of jokes,"
or really wished to set people laughing ; but his mind was so
peculiarly compounded that he could not help putting things
in a ludicrous way. It was in vain that his friends warned him
of his besetting sin, and entreated him to lay it aside. The
poor old evangelist acknowledged his infirmity, and pleaded
that he was born with a fool's cap on, and that a fool's cap was
not so easily put off as a night-cap. Hard as he strove to keep
down his enemy, it was never completely subdued. " Odd
things," he said, " break from me as abruptly as croaking from
a raven." The habit of quaintness was bone of his bones and
flesh of his flesh. It stuck to him as closely as his skin, and
never left him until he was laid in the grave. Quaintly he
thought and quaintly he spoke, quaintly he preached and
quaintly he wrote, quaint he lived and quaint he died. In
this respect I fully concede he was a beacon to be avoided,
and not an example to be followed.
While, however, I admit that Berridge was painfully quaint
and odd, I do not at all admit the justice of Southey's remark,
that he was " buffoon as well as fanatic." This judgment is

HIS OUTLINES OF SERMONS. 237
unwarrantably severe. The twenty-six Outlines of Sermons,
which his biographer has published, contain abundant proof
that the Vicar of Everton never deliberately prepared buffoonery
for the pulpit. On the contrary, with one or two trifling ex
ceptions, there is a " conspicuous absence " of anything that
could create a smile. The reader of these Outlines will find
them very simple, very full of Scripture, very spiritual, and very
evangelical. He will find in them, no doubt, nothing very deep
or profound, nothing very striking or original ; though he will
always find man painted in his true colours and put in his right
place, and Christ magnified, glorified, and exalted in every page.
But if he expects to find anything ludicrous, jocose, or absurd,
any quaint anecdotes, or ridiculous illustrations, he will be
utterly and entirely disappointed. I should like those who
decry poor Berridge as a mere pulpit jester, to read over, with
attention, the hundred pages in which Whittingham has recorded
the remains of the good man's preaching. If they do not alter
their opinion very materially, I shall be much surprised. They
will probably agree with me that if the composer of such Out
lines of Sermons was a " buffoon and a fanatic,'' it would do
no harm to the Church of England if she had a few more such
" buffoons and fanatics " among her clergy.
In justice to Berridge, I give it as my own deliberate opinion,
that whatever quaintness there was in his sermons, was strictly
confined to the extemporaneous part of them, or to the illus
trations which struck him on the spur of the moment. At any
rate, there is little or no trace of it in his written Outlines. A
man like the old Fellow of Clare Hall, of great natural genius, and
a keen sense of the ludicrous, with his mind full of Aristophanes
and Hudibras, might surely be lightly judged if he sometimes
said odd things in his sermons. The excitement of seeing a
great multitude hanging on his lips was doubtless great. The
anxiety to say what would arrest and arouse was, doubtless,
overwhelming. What wonder if he sometimes broke away from

238 HIS STYLE DEFENDED.
the outlines of his sermons, and said things in the heat of his
zeal which in calmer moments he might condemn'? One thing,
at any rate, is very clear from the remains of his preaching, and
that is, that he was a methodical preacher. If he did occasion
ally break over the fence, and let fall odd sayings, he managed
to get back into the road, and was sooner or later marching
along in good order.
After all, I venture to think that men are often far too
squeamish in their judgment of preachers. Great allowance
ought always to be made for those who, like Berridge, are con
stantly preaching in rural districts to uneducated congregations.
None but those who have preached for many years in such
districts can have the least idea of the preacher's difficulties.
There is a gulf between his mind and the minds of his hearers
of which few have the smallest conception. How to get at
their understandings, how to make them comprehend what we
are saying, is the grand problem that has to be solved. Their
standard of taste is not that of Oxford or Cambridge. Things
that sound coarse and vulgar and unrefined to a trained mind
and a well educated ear, do not sound so to them. Their first
and foremost want is to understand what the preacher is talking
about; and he that can make poor farmers and labourers under
stand what he says is a preacher deserving of the highest praise.
They care nothing for fine abstract ideas and rhetorical figures.
They only care to hear what they can carry away. Now this,
I suspect, was precisely the thing that Berridge never forgot.
His grand aim was to make his hearers understand, and to
attain that aim he sacrificed everything. If he made them
smile, he also made them weep. If he excited them, he did
not let them go to sleep. If he broke the rules of taste, and
made men laugh, he also succeeded in breaking hard hearts,
and making them repent. All honour be to him for his bold
ness ! Better a thousand times for men to smile and be con
verted, than to look stiff, and grave, and sleepy in their pews,

HIS LITERAR Y REMAINS. 239
and remain dead in trespasses and sins. I do not defend
Berridge's escapades and transgressions of good taste. I do
not recommend him as a model to young preachers. I only
say that those who run him down and depreciate him because
of his quaintness, would do well to remember that he did what
many do not — he awakened and converted souls. Thousands
of correct, and smooth, and prim, and proper clergymen are
creeping through this world, who never broke a canon of taste
in the pulpit, never told an anecdote, never used a vulgar illus
tration, and never raised a smile. They have their reward !
Their educated friends and relations admire them, and the
world praises them. But they never prick a conscience, never
frighten a sinner, never build up a saint, never pull down a
single stone of the devil's kingdom — never save a soul. Give
me the man who, like Berridge, may commit many mistakes,
and offend many scrupulous ears, but yet reaches hearts, and
helps to fill heaven.
Those who wish to form a correct idea of the singularly
quaint workings of Berridge's mind, must turn from the Outlines
of his Sermons to his other literary remains. These remains
consist of a collection of hymns called " Zion's Songs," a prose
work entitled " The Christian World Unmasked," and a selec
tion of private letters to friends. The hymns I shall leave
alone. The Vicar of Everton was no more a poet than Cicero
or Julius Caesar; and although the doctrine of his hymns is very
sound, the poetry of them is very poor, while the ideas they
occasionally present are painfully ludicrous. The " Christian
World Unmasked " is a dialogue between two imaginary
characters about the way of salvation, and contains much that
is pointed and clear ; but it is written throughout in such a very
unrefined style, that it is not likely to be extensively useful.
The letters to private friends are excellent, and are worth all the
rest of Whittingham's volume put together. From these and
the " Christian World " I will now select a few specimens of

24° EXTRACTS FROM HIS WRITINGS.
Berridge's quaintness. I have spoken a good deal about it,
and it is only just and fair to let the reader see what it wai
like. Let us hear how Berridge speaks of human nature : " Nature
lost her legs in Paradise, and has not found them since ; nor
has she any will to come to Jesus. The way is steep and
narrow, full of self-denials, crowded up with stumbling-blocks :
she cannot like it ; and when she does come, it is with huge
complaining. Moses is obliged to flog her tightly, and make
her heart ache, before she casts a weeping look on Jesus.
Once she doated on this Jewish lawgiver, was fairly wedded to
him, and sought to please him by her works — and he seemed a
kindly husband ; but now, he grows so grim a tyrant, there
is no bearing of him. When she takes a wrong step, his
mouth is always full of cursing, and his resentment so im
placable, no weeping will appease him, nor promise of amend
ment." *
Let us hear Berridge about the " Whole Duty of Man : "
"The 'Whole Duty of Man' was sent abroad with a good
intent, but has failed of its purpose, as all such teaching ever
will. Morality has not thriven since its publication ; and never
can thrive, unless founded wholly upon grace. The heathen,
for want of this foundation, could do nothing. They spoke
some noble truths, but spoke to men with withered hearts and
loathing appetites. They were like way-posts, which show a
road, but cannot help a cripple forward ; and yet many of them
preached higher morals than are often taught by their modern
friends. In their way they were skilful fishermen, but fished
without the gospel-bait, and could catch no fry. And after
they had toiled long in vain, we take up their angle-rods, and
dream of more success, though not possessed of half their skill.
God has shown how little human wit and strength can do to
compass reformation. Reason has explored the moral path,
* " Christian World," p. 292, Whittingham's Edition.

JUSTIFICA TION BY FAITH. 241
planted it with roses, and fenced it round with motives ; but all
in vain.*
Let us hear him again : " Men are rightly treated in the
reading-desk, and called by their proper name of miserable
sinners. But in the pulpit they are complimented on the
dignity of their earthly, sensual, devilish natures, are flattered
with a princely will and power to save themselves, and orna
mented with a lusty seam of merit. Justification by faith, the
jewel ofthe Gospel covenant, the groundwork of the Reforma
tion, the glory of the British Church, is now derided as a poor
old beggarly element, which may suit a negro or a convict, but
will not save a lofty scribe nor a lewd gentleman. And the
covenant of grace, though executed legally by Jesus, purchased
by his life and death, written and sealed with his blood, is
deemed of no value, till ratified by Moses. Paul declares no
other foundation can we lay beside that which is laid, Christ
Jesus. But men are growing wise above that which is written,
and will have two foundations for their hopes. These are,
fancied merit, added to the meritorious life and death of Christ.
If an angel should visit our earth, and proclaim such a kind of
gospel as is often hawked from the press and pulpit, though he
preached morality with most seraphic power, and till his wings
dropped off, he would never turn one soul to God, nor produce
a single grain of true morality, arising from the love of God, and
aiming only at his glory." t
Let us hear him again : " Once I went to Jesus as a cox
comb, and gave myself fine airs, fancying, if He were some
thing, so was I ; if He had merit, so had I. I used him as a
healthy man will use a walking-staff — lean an ounce upon it,
and vapour with it in the air. But now He is my whole crutch ;
no foot can stir a step without him. He is my all, as he ought
to be if he will become my Saviour, and bids me cast all my
care on him. My heart can have no rest unless it leans upon
* "Christian World," p. 33s. t " Christian World," p. 34 r.
(1USJ 16

242 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTERS.
him wholly; and then it feels his peace. But I am apt to leave
my resting-place ; and when I ramble from it, my breast will
quickly brew up mischief. Some evil temper now begins to
boil, or some care would fain perplex me, or some idle wants
to please me, or some deadness or lightness creeps upon my
spirit, and communion with my Saviour is withdrawn. When
these thorns stick in my flesh, I do not try, as heretofore, to
pick them out with my own needle ; but I carry all my com
plaints to Jesus, casting every care on him. His office is to
save, and mine to look to him for help. If evil tempers arise,
I go to him as some demoniac. If deadness creeps upon me,
I go as a paralytic. If dissipation comes, I go as a lunatic. If
darkness clouds my face, I go as a Bartimeus. And when I
pray, I always go as a leper, crying, as Isaiah did, Unclean,
unclean." *
Let us hear what he says in a letter to John Newton, dated
October 18, 177 1 : "The foulest stain and highest absurdity in
our nature is pride. And yet this base hedgehog so rolls him
self up in his bristly coat, we can seldom get a sight of his
claws. It is the root of unbelief. Men cannot submit to the
righteousness of Christ, and pride cleaves to them like a pitched
shirt to the skin, or like leprosy to the wall. No sharp culture
of ploughing and harrowing will clear the ground of it. The
foul weed will be sure to spring up again with the next kindly
rain. This diabolical sin has brought more scourges on my
back than anything else ; and it is of so insinuating a nature,
that I know not how to part with it. I hate it, and love it ; I
quarrel with it, and embrace it ; I dread it, and yet suffer it to
lie in my bosom. It pleads a right, through the fall, to be a
tenant for life; and has such a wonderful appetite, that it can
feed kindly both on grace and garbage — will be as warm and
snug in a cloister as a palace, and be as much delighted with a
fine prayer as a foul oath." * " Christian World," p. 248.

LETTER TO SAMUEL WILKES. 243
Let us hear what he says in a letter to Samuel Wilkes, dated
August 16, 1774: "Sitting closely on the beach is very sweet
after a stormy voyage; but I fancy you will find it more difficult
to walk closely with Jesus in a calm than a storm, in easy
circumstances than in straits. A Christian never falls asleep in
the fire or in the water, but grows' drowsy in the sunshine. We
love to nestle, but cannot make a nest in a hard bed. God has
given you good abilities. This, of course, will make you re
spected by men of business, and tempt you at times to admire
yourself, and thus bring a smart rod upon your back. Sharp
genius, like a sharp knife, often makes a wrong gash, and cuts
a finger instead of food. We scarcely know how to turn our
backs on admiration, though it comes from the vain world ; yet
a kick from the world does believers less harm than a kiss. I
apprehend a main part of your trial will lie here. When you
are tempted to think gaudily of yourself, and spread your
feathers like a peacock, remember that fine parts in themselves
are like the fine wings of a butterfly, which garnish out the
moth and grub beneath. Remember, too, that a fiend has
sharper parts than the sharpest of us, and that one grain of
godly grace is of more worth than a hundred thousand heads-
ful of Attic wit, or of philosophic, theologie, or commercial
science." Let us hear what he writes to Lady Huntingdon about the
marriage of ministers, on March 23, 1770: "Before I parted
with honest G., I cautioned him much against petticoat snares.
He has burnt his wings already. Sure he will not imitate a
foolish gnat, and hover again about the candle 1 If he should
fall into a sleeping-lap, like Samson, he will soon need a flannel
night-cap, and a rusty chain to fix him down, like a chained
Bible to the reading-desk. No trap so mischievous to the field-
preacher as wedlock ; and it is laid for him at every hedge
corner. Matrimony has quite maimed poor Charles [Wesley],
and might have spoiled John [Wesley] and George [Whitefield],

244 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LETTERS.
if a wise Master had not graciously sent them a brace of ferrets.
Dear George has now got his liberty again ; and he will escape
well if he is not caught by another tenter-hook. Eight or nine
years ago, having been grievously tormented with house-keep
ing, I truly had thought of looking out for a Jezebel myself.
But it seemed highly needful to ask advice of the Lord.
So, kneeling down on my knees before a table, with a Bible
between my hands, I besought the Lord to give me a direc
tion." I may add that Jeremiah xvi. 2 settled the question, to
Berridge's satisfaction, in the negative.
In another letter he says : " A man may be constitutionally
meek as the lamb, constitutionally kind as the spaniel, consti
tutionally cheerful as the lark, and constitutionally modest as
the owl ; but these things are not sanctification. No sweet,
humble, heavenly tempers, no sanctifying graces, are found but
from the cross."
In another letter he says : "A Smithfield fire would unite the
sheep of Christ, and frighten the goats away ; but when the
world ceases to persecute the flocks, they begin to fight each
other. Indeed, the worst part of the sheep is in his head,
which is not half so good as a calf's head ; and with this they
are ever butting at each other."
In another letter he says: "I told my brother Mr. Henry
Venn he need not fear being hanged for sheep-stealing, while
he only whistles the sheep into a better pasture, and meddles
neither with the flock nor fleece. And I am sure he cannot
sink much lower in credit ; for he has lost his character right
honestly by preaching law and gospel without mincing. The
scoffing world makes no other distinction between him and me,
than between Satan and Beelzebub. We have both got tufted
horns and cloven feet; only I am thought the more impudent
devil of the two."
I leave the subject of John Berridge's quaintness here. It
would be easy to multiply quotations like those I have given ;

PROMINENT FEA TURES IN HIS CHAR A CTER. 245
but I have probably said enough to give my readers some idea
of the strange workings of the good Vicar of Everton's mind. I
do not pretend to defend his odd sayings. I fully admit that they
were calculated to interfere with his usefulness. But, once for
all, I must request my readers not to judge them too severely,
and, above all, to beware of setting down the eccentric author
of them as a ranting fool. Berridge, we may depend on it, was
nothing of the kind. Quaint as his sayings were, a Christian
reader will seldom fail to discern in them a deep vein of common
sense, shrewdness, and sagacity. Odd and unrefined as his
illustrations often were, they were just the kind of thing that
arrests and keeps up the attention of rural hearers. Let us
grant that he erred in an excess of quaintness, but let us not
forget that hundreds of preachers err in an excess of correct
dulness, and never do good to a single soul.
I should be sorry to leave on my reader's mind the impres
sion that quaintness was the leading characteristic of the good
Vicar of Everton. There were other prominent features in his
character which were quite as remarkable as his quaintness, but
which his detractors have found it convenient to forget. There
were many grand and fine points about this old evangelist,
which deserve to be had in remembrance, and which all who
love pure and undefiled religion will know how to appreciate.
I will briefly mention a few of them, and then draw my account
of him to a conclusion.
Berridge was a man of deep humility. That queen of all the
graces, which adorned Whitefield and Grimshaw so remark
ably, was a prominent feature in his character. No man could
be more sensible of his infirmities than he was, and no one
could speak of himself more disparagingly than he did. He
says, in 1773: "Ten years ago, I hoped to be something long
before this time, and seemed in a promising way; but a nearer
view of the spiritual wickedness in my heart, and of the spiritual
demands of God's laws, has forced me daily to cry, 'O wretched

246 HIS LOVE OF CHRIST.
man that I am! God be merciful to me a sinner!' I am now
sinking from a poor something into a vile nothing; and wish
to be nothing, that Christ may be all. I am creeping down the
ladder from self-complacence to self-abhorrence; and the more
I abhor myself, the more I must hate sin, which is the cause of
that abhorrence." — "As the heart is more washed, we grow
more sensible of its remaining defilement; just as we are more
displeased with a single spot on a new coat, than with a hundred
stains on an old one. The more wicked men grow, the less
ashamed they are of themselves ; and the more holy men grow,
the more they learn to abhor themselves."
For another thing, Berridge was a man who gloried in our
Lord Jesus Christ, and in all his preaching, speaking, and
writing, delighted to make much of Him. He says, in one of
his letters : " Once I was sensible of my lameness, but did
not know that Christ was to be my whole strength as well as
righteousness. I saw His blood could purge away the guilt of
sin; but I thought I had some natural might against the power
of sin. Accordingly, I laboured to cut away my own corrup
tions, and pray away my own will, but laboured in the fire. At
length, God has shown me that John Berridge cannot drive the
devil out of himself; but Jesus Christ, blessed be his name,
must say to the Legion, 'Come out' I see that faith alone can
purify the heart as well as purify the conscience, and that Christ
is worthy to be my all in everything, in wisdom, righteousness,
sanctification, and redemption.'-
For another thing, Berridge was a man of singidar kindness
and self-denial. No man perhaps ever carried on Christ's work
with more thoroughly disinterested views. Whether at home
or abroad he was always giving, and never receiving, and went
through all his immense labours gratuitously. Houses and
barns were rented for preaching, lay-preachers maintained in
all directions, and his own travelling expenses defrayed by him
self Whenever he preached in a cottage, he invariably left

HIS SELF-DENIAL. 247
half-a-crown for the use of it; and, during his itinerancy, he
actually spent ^500 in this way alone. Cases of distress and
suffering always met with munificent help from him. His
whole income, both private and professional, was annually
spent in doing good, and even his family plate was sold to buy
clothes for his itinerant preachers. As to his own habits at
home, they were simple in the extreme. To one who came to
supply his pulpit (the Hon. and Rev. W. Shirley), when absent
from home, he wrote the following quaint intimation : " You
must eat what is set before you, and be thankful. I get hot
victuals but once a week for myself, namely, on Saturday; but,
because you are an Honourable man, I have ordered two hot
joints to be got each week for you. Use what I have just as
your own. I make no feasts, but save all I can, to give all I
can. I have never yet been worth a groat at the year's end,
nor desire it." As to his fare abroad, when itinerating in the
eastern counties, he says in another letter: "I fear my weekly
circuit would not suit a London or Bath divine. Long rides,
and miry roads, in sharp weather! Cold houses to sit in, with
very moderate fuel, and three or four children roaring or rock
ing about you ! Coarse food, and meagre liquor ! Lumpy beds
to lie on and too short for the feet, with stiff blankets like
boards for a covering ! Rise at five in the morning to preach ; at
seven, breakfast on poor tea; at eight, mount a horse with boots
never cleaned, and then ride home praising God for all mercies !"
For another thing, Berridge was a man of uncommon shrewd
ness, good sense, and sagacity. Never was there a more complete
mistake than to suppose that he, any more than Romaine, was
a mere ranting, weak-headed fanatic. A careful perusal of his
remains will show them to be replete with deep, thoughtful, and
far-sighted remarks. His criticism of Cowper's Poems, his
letters about Lady Huntingdon's College at Trevecca, his well-
balanced statements of some of the most disputed points in the
Calvinistic controversy, and his sensible treatment of enthusiasts

248 ADVICE TO A YOUNG MINISTER.
under his ministry, are excellent evidences of this feature in his
character. I know few wiser and more comprehensive letters
of advice to a young minister about a sermon than one (not
dated) which Whittingham has inserted at the end of his collec
tion. Among other things, he says : " When you open your
commission, begin with laying open the innumerable corruptions
of the hearts of your audience. Moses will lend you a knife,
which may be often whetted at his grindstone. Lay open the
universal sinfulness of men's natures, the darkness of the mind,
the frowardness of the will, the fretfulness of the temper, and
the earthliness and sensuality of the affections. Speak of the
evil of sin in its nature, its rebellion against God as our Sove
reign, ingratitude to God as our Lawgiver, and contempt both
of his authority and love. Declare the evil of sin in its effects,
'bringing all our sicknesses, pains, and snares — all the evils we
feel, and all the evils we fear." — " Lay open the spirituality of
the law and its extent, reaching to every thought, word, and
action, and declaring every transgression, whether by omission
or commission, deserving of death. Declare man's utter helpless
ness to change his nature, or make his peace." — " When your
hearers are deeply affected with these things, which is often
seen by the hanging down of their heads, then preach Christ.
Lay open the Saviour's almighty power to soften the hard
heart and give it repentance, to bring pardon to the broken
heart, a spirit of prayer to the prayerless heart, holiness
to the filthy heart, and faith to the unbelieving heart. Let
them know that all the treasures of grace are lodged in Jesus
Christ for the use of the poor needy sinner, and that he is full
of love as well as of power; turns no beggar from his gate, but
receives all comers kindly; loves to bless them, and bestows
all his blessings free. Here you must wave the gospel flag,
and magnify the Saviour supremely. Speak it with a full
mouth, that his blood can wash away the foulest sins, and his
grace subdue the stoutest corruptions. Entreat the people to

HIS COURAGE AND BOLDNESS. 249
seek his grace, to seek it directly, to seek it diligently, to seek
it constantly; and acquaint them that all who thus seek shall
assuredly find the salvation of God."
For another thing, Berridge was a man of extraordinary
courage and boldness. He was one of those who could say with
David: " I will speak of thy testimonies before kings, and not
be ashamed." In doing his Master's business, and delivering
his Master's message, he was never stopped for a moment by
fear of personal danger or regard for the opinion of the world.
Neither bishops, squires, nor parsons had any terrors for him.
At an early period of his evangelical ministry he took his line,
and from that line he never swerved. The occasion ofhis first
resolving never to be afraid is strikingly described in the follow
ing anecdote, which I take from the " Churchman's Monthly
Penny Magazine" for 1852: —
" In one of the villages in which he was known as a preacher of the new
doctrines, which were then beginning to excite a great sensation in different
spots in England, he was exposed, when passing through it, to the hootings
and revilings of the mob to an extent which frequently chafed his excitable
spirit. This village was composed nearly exclusively of a long, straggling
street, and, as is to be seen in many similar hamlets in England and else
where, was surrounded on one side by a narrow lane, which, jutting off at
one end, joined it again, by a much wider circuit than that made by the
street, at the other. On one day in which Berridge was about to pass
through this village, his spirit quailed within him, in anticipation of the
rough reception he would certainly meet with from the bigoted inhabitants.
He felt as if he could not encounter it, and accordingly turned into the
narrow lane of which we have spoken just at the moment when a pig-driver
of his acquaintance entered the street with his noisy charge. It was their
hap, each pursuing his own course, to meet again at the farther end of the
village, when the pig-driver, who not only knew Berridge, but knew his
principles, and knew the truth, looked up in his face with a most peculiar
expression, and said : ' So you are ashamed on't. '
" The saying went to his heart. ' Yes,' he said, ' I have been ashamed
on't; I resolve, in the strength of God, to be ashamed of it no more, but
henceforth to press after it, firm unto the end.' A resolution which, under
taken by a resolute mind in the fear of God, was, perhaps, never more
faithfully carried out in the future progress of a long and devoted life. "
Last, but not least, Berridge was a man of deep acquaintance

25° HIS TENDER SYMPATHY.
with Christian experience, and tender sympathy with the people
of God. Those who fancy that he was a rough, vulgar, ranting
out-door preacher, always full of jests and jokes and high spirits,
and always dwelling on elementary truths, know very little of
the good man's character. Let them read the following letters
carefully, and mark how the itinerant evangelist of Everton
could write to his friends. The first of the three was written
to a friend on the occasion of his wife's death, and will be
found in Whittingham's volume. The other two have come to
me from private hands, and have never been printed before: —
Everton, March 26, 1771.
" Dear Brother, — Mr. W  informs me of the loss of your dear
wife. You once knew she was mortal; but she has now put off mortality,
and is become immortal. Can this grieve you ? Oh, that I was where she
now is ! — ' Safe landed on that peaceful shore,
Where pilgrims meet to part no more.'
She was once a mourning sinner in the wilderness, but she is now a glorified
saint in Zion; the Lord is become her everlasting light — the days of her
mourning are ended. Does this trouble you ? — She was once afflicted with
bodily pains and weakness, encompassed with cares, and harassed with a
crowd of anxious, needless fears; but she has now arrived at her Father's
house, and Jesus has wiped away all tears from her eyes, and freed her in
a moment from all pains, cares, fears, and wants. And shall this affect
you? — You have not lost your wife; she has only left you for a few
moments — left an earthly husband to visit a heavenly Father — and expects
your arrival there soon, to join the hallelujah for redeeming love. Are you
still weeping ? — Fie upon you, brother ! — weeping because your wife can
weep no more ! weeping because she is happy, because she is joined to that
assembly where all are kings and priests ! weeping because she is daily
feasted with heavenly manna, and hourly drinking new wine in her Father's
kingdom ! weeping because she is now where you would be, and long to be
eternally ! weeping because she is singing, and singing sweet anthems to
her God and your God ! — O shameful weeping ! Jesus has fetched your
bride triumphantly home to his kingdom, to draw your soul more ardently
thither, he has broken up a cistern to bring you nearer, and keep you closer
to the fountain ; has caused a moment's separation, to divorce your affec
tions from the creature; and has torn a wedding-string from your heart, to
set it a-bleeding more freely, and panting more vehemently for Jesus. Here
after you will see how gracious the Lord has been, in calling a beloved wife
home, in order to betroth the husband more effectually to himself. Re-

SPECIMEN OF HIS LETTERS. 25 I
member that the house of mourning becomes and befriends a sinner; that
sorrow is a safe companion for a pilgrim, who walks much astray until his
heart is well broken. May all your tears flow in a heavenly channel, and
every sigh waft your soul to Jesus ! May the God of all consolation comfort
you through life, and in death afford you a triumphant entrance into his
kingdom ! So prays your friend and brother in the gospel of Christ,
"J. Berridge."
" Everton, Sept. 14, 1773.
" Dear Sir, — I received your kind letter, and thank you for it. You
want nothing but an opened eye to see the glory of Christ's redemption ; and
he must give it, and will bestow it, when it is most for his glory and your
advantage. Had you Daniel's holiness, Paul's zeal, John's love, Magda
len's repentance (and I wish you had them all), yet altogether they would
give you no title to a pardon. You must at last receive it as a ruined sinner,
even as the Cross-thief received it.
" No graces or services of your own can give you a right to pardon ; you
must come to Jesus for it, weary and heavy-laden; and if you are afflicted for
sin, and desirous of being delivered from its guilt and power, no past iniqui
ties in your life, nor present corruptions of your heart, will be a bar to par
doning mercy. If we are truly seeking salvation by Jesus, we shall be dis
posed, as we are really bound, to seek after holiness.
"But remember, though holiness is the walk to heaven, Christ is the
-way to God ; and when you seek for pardon, you must go wholly out of
your walk, be it good or bad, and look only to Him who is the way. You
must look to him as a miserable sinner, justly condemned by his law, a pro
per brand for hell, and look to be plucked from the fire by rich and sove
reign grace. You have just as much worthiness for a pardon as the Cross-
thief had, which is none at all ; and in your best estate you will never have
any more. A pardon was freely given to him upon asking for it freely, and
given instantly because no room was left for delays ; and a pardon is as
ready for you as for him, when you can ask for it as he did, with self-loath
ing and condemnation ; but the proper seasons of bestowing the pardon are
kept in Jesus' own hand. He makes his mercy manifest to the heart when
it will most glorify his grace and benefit the sinner. Only continue asking
for mercy ; and seek it only through the blood of the cross, without any eye
to your own worthiness, and that blood in due time will be sprinkled on
your conscience, and you shall cry, Abba, Father.
" Present my kindest love to my dear brother Mr. Romaine. The Lord
continue his life and usefulness. Kind respects and Christian salutation to
Mrs. Olney. Grace and peace be with both, and with your affectionate and
obliged servant. J. Berridge."
" Everton, Nov. 7, 1786.
"Dear Sir, — I received your kind letter, along with your present. I
thank you for the present, as being a token of your respect, and attended, I

2 5 2 SPE CI MEN OF HIS LE TIERS.
find, with your daily prayers for me, which I value more than human pre.
sents. The Lord bless you, and lift up the light of his countenance upon
you, and give you a sweet enjoyment of his peace.
" I have hitherto found that Christian people who live in the dark, fearing
and doubting, yet waiting on God, have usually a very happy death. They
are kept humble, hungering and praying, and the Lord clears up their evi
dences at length in a last sickness, if not before, and they go off with halle
lujahs. ' ' From what I know of you, and from the account you give of yourself, I
have no doubt of the safety of your state : yet rest not here, but seek further.
Two things should be carefully attended to by all upright people — one is the
evidence of the Word, the other is the evidence or witness of the Spirit.
The Word says : • All that believe are justified from all things' (Acts xiii. 39).
I ask, then, do you not place your whole dependence on Jesus Christ for
salvation? Do you not heartily accept of Jesus Christ in all his offices, and
are you not daily seeking to him to teach you and rule you, as well as to
pardon you ? Then you are certainly a believer, and as such are justified in
God's sight from all your sins, according to the plain declaration of God's
Word. Let this encourage you to seek with confidence for the evidence of
the Spirit, to proclaim that justification to your heart. The evidence of the
Word is given to hold up the heart in a season of doubts and fears, and the
evidence of the Spirit comes to scatter those fears. Remember also that
salvation does not depend on the strength of faith, but the reality of it. In
the gospels, Jesus often rebukes weak faith, but never rejects it. Weak faith
brings but little comfort, yet is as much entitled to salvation as strong.
" I have had much of my nervous fever this summer ; never once stirred
out of my parish, and never further in it than to my church ! Through mercy
I am somewhat better ; and when alone, with a Bible before me, am com
posed and comfortable, yet scarce able to bear visits, so weak are my spirits.
. . . Give my love to Mr. G  , and tell him from first to last he has been
the friend of my heart. I send my kind respects to your partner. Grace
and peace be with you both, and with your affectionate servant,
"John Berridge."
I close my account of the good old Vicar of Everton with
one remark. The man who could write such letters as these is
not one who ought to be lightly esteemed. John Berridge is a
minister who has never been rightly valued on account of his
one besetting infirmity. The one " dead fly in his ointment "
has made the Church ignore his many gifts and graces. Yet
he was a man of whom the world was not worthy. Good
judges of men, such as John Thornton, Lady Huntingdon,
Wesley, Venn, Fletcher, John Newton, Rowland Hill, Charles

A GREAT AND GOOD MAN. 253
Simeon, Jones of Creaton, were all agreed about him, and all
held him in honour. Let us reform our judgment of the good
man, and cast our prejudices aside. Whatever some may
please to say, we may rest assured that there were few greater,
better, holier, and more useful ministers a hundred years ago
than old John Berridge.

IX.
lenrg %mn anb {jig HJinistrg.

CHAPTER I.
Born at Barnes, Surrey, 1724 — His Ancestors — Curious Anecdotes of his Boyhood and
Youth — Enters St. John's, Cambridge, 1742 — Fellow of Queen's, 1749 — Curate of West
Horsley, 1750 — Curate of Clapham, 1754 — Change in his Religious Views — Becomes
acquainted with Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon — Married, 1757 — Vicar of Hudders
field, 1759. HE seventh spiritual hero of the last century to whom
I wish to direct the attention of my readers, is one
better known than several of his contemporaries.
The man I mean is Henry Venn, for some time Vicar of Hud
dersfield, in Yorkshire, and afterwards Vicar of Yelling, in
Huntingdonshire. He is the only English minister of the
eighteenth century whom I consider worthy to be ranked with
the six whose memoirs I have already put together — viz.,
Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine, Rowlands, and Ber
ridge. These seven men appear to me, in some respects, to
stand alone in the religious history of England a hundred years
ago. Beside them, no doubt, there were many others of
eminent grace and gifts. But none attained to the degree of
the first seven.
One reason why Henry Venn is better known than many
of his day, is the excellence of the only biography of him.
Few men certainly have been so fortunate in their bio
graphers as the evangelical Vicar of Huddersfield. In the

THE FAMILY-NAME OF VENN. 255
whole range of Christian memoirs, I know few volumes so truly
valuable as the single volume of "Henry Venn's Life and
Letters." I never take it down from my shelves without think
ing of the words which our great poet puts in the mouth of
Queen Katherine :—
" After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as  ."
Henry VIII. , Act iv. sc. 2.
In fact, almost the only fault I find with the book is one which
is most rare in a biography — it is too short !
Another reason why Henry Venn's name is so well known to
English evangelical Christians, is the happy circumstance that
he left behind him children who followed him " even as he fol
lowed Christ." His son, and his son's sons, have all been
thoroughly like-minded with him. For more than a century
there has never been wanting a minister of his name within the
pale of the Church of England, to preach the same doctrine
which he preached in the pulpit of Huddersfield. The name
of " Venn " has consequently never ceased to be before the
public. When Whitefield and Wesley and Berridge were laid
in their graves, they left no sons " to keep their name in
remembrance," however numerous their spiritual children may
have been. But the family-name of Venn has been so much in
men's mouths for three generations, that there are few English
Christians who are not acquainted with it.
While, however, I fully admit that Henry Venn's name is
well known in this country, I cannot help thinking that there is
much confusion in men's minds as to the period ofhis ministry,
and the time when he died. Some, I know, are in the habit of
speaking of him as a contemporary of Scott, and Cecil, and
Simeon. Even a writer like Sir James Stephen, in an article
contributed to the Edinburgh Review, speaks of him as the

256 BIR TH OF HENR Y VENN.
" last of four evangelical fathers," of whom Scott, Newton, and
Milner were the first three ! All these ideas about Venn are
totally inaccurate. The authors of them, I suspect, confound
Henry Venn with his son John Venn of Clapham. Henry
Venn belonged to an earlier generation, and was well known
and popular long before Newton, or Scott, or Cecil, or Simeon,
or Milner, were ever heard of. To class him with these good
men is an entire mistake. His true place is with Whitefield,
and Wesley, and Grimshaw, and Rowlands, and Romaine, and
Berridge. These were the men by whose side he laboured.
These were the men with whom he must be ranked. To clear
up Henry Venn's true history, and to convey some correct
information about the main facts of his life and ministry, is the
object that I set before me in the present memoir. Once for
all, I wish it to be understood that the men I undertake to
write about in this work are men of the last century. The men
of the present century are men that I purposely leave alone.
Henry Venn was born at Barnes, in Surrey, on the 2nd of
March 1724 — within twenty-one years of the birth of John
Wesley. He was the descendant of a long line of clergymen,
reaching downwards in unbroken succession from the time of
the Reformation. William Venn died vicar of Otterton, Devon
shire, in 162 1. Richard Venn, his son, succeeded him at
Otterton ; and after suffering greatly for his steadfast adherence
to the Church of England in the Commonwealth times, died
quietly in possession of his living. After him, his son, Dennis
Venn, died vicar of Holberton, in Devonshire, in 1691. And
finally his son, Richard Venn, rector of St. Antholin's, in the
City of London, was the father of the subject of this memoir.
These facts are full of interest. At the present day the name of
Venn has appeared for seven generations in the clergy list of
the Church of England !
Henry Venn's father is said to have been " an exemplary and
learned minister, very zealous for the interests of the Church of

HIS EARLY YEARS. 257
England, and remarkable for great liberality towards the poor,
and especially towards distressed clergymen.'' Little is known
about him, except the fact that he was the son of a very strong-
minded mother, who said that " Richard should not go to
school till he had learned to say ' No.'" He was once brought
into much public notice, and incurred obloquy, on account of
the opposition which he made, in conjunction with Bishop Gib
son, to the appointment of Dr. Rundle to the Bishopric of
Gloucester. The grounds of his objection were certain expres
sions which he had heard Dr. Rundle use, of a deistical ten
dency ; and the result of his opposition was, that Dr. Rundle
was actually kept out of the see of Gloucester, and was obliged
to content himself with the Irish bishopric of Deny.* AVhen
we remember what times they were when these things happened,
and what kind of a man Dr. Rundle's patron, Sir Robert
Walpole, was, it is impossible not to admire the courage and
conscientiousness which Richard Venn displayed in the affair.
He died at the early age of forty-eight, when his son Henry
was only fifteen years old.
The facts recorded about Henry Venn, as a boy, are few, but
interesting. They are enough to show that from his earliest
childhood he was a " thorough " and decided character, and
one who never did anything by halves. In fact, Dr. Gloucester
Ridley was so struck with his energy of character when young,
that he said, " This boy will go up Holborn, and either stop at
Ely Place (then the London palace of the Bishop of Ely), or go
on to Tyburn !" (the place where criminals were hanged.) The
following three anecdotes will show what kind of a boy he was.
I give them in his son's own words : —
" While he was yet a child, Sir Robert Walpole attempted to
introduce more extensively the system of Excise. A violent

* It is only fair and just to the character of one long dead to say, that living descend
ants or connections of Dr. Rundle deny the correctness of the statement here made about
his opinions. I can only say that my authority is Mr. Venn's biography.
\m.) 17

2 5 8 A NE CD 0 TES OF HENR Y VENN.
opposition was excited, and the popular feeling ran strongly
against the measure. Young Henry Venn caught the alarm,
and could not sleep in his bed lest the Excise Bill should pass ;
and on the day when it was to be submitted to Parliament, his
boyish zeal made him leave his father's house early, and wander
through the streets, crying 'No Excise !' till the evening, when
he returned home exhausted with fatigue, and with his voice
totally lost by his patriotic exertions."
"A gentleman, who was reported to be an Arian, called one
day upon his father. Young Henry Venn, then a mere child,
came into the room, and with a grave countenance earnestly
surveyed him. The gentleman, observing the notice which the
child took of him, began to show him some civil attentions, but
found all his friendly overtures sternly rejected. At length,
upon his earnestly soliciting him to come to him, the boy indig
nantly replied, ' I will not come near you ; for you are an Arian.'"
" As he adopted with all his heart the opinions which he
imbibed, he early entertained a most vehement dislike of all
Dissenters. It happened that a Dissenting minister's son, two
or three years older than himself, lived in the same street in
London with his father ; and young Henry Venn, in his zeal
for the Church, made no scruple to attack and fight the unfor
tunate Nonconformist whenever he met him. It was a curious
circumstance, that, many years after, he became acquainted
with this very individual, who was then a Dissenting minister.
He frankly confessed that young Venn had been the terror of
his youthful days, and acknowledged that he never dared leave
his father's door till he had carefully looked on every side to see
that this young champion of the Church was not in the street."
Henry Venn's education began at the age of twelve, in a
school at Mortlake, near Barnes. From this school he was
removed to one kept by a Mr. Croft, at Fulham, but only
stayed there a few months. He left at his own request under
very singular circumstances. He complained to his mother, as

ENTERS ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE. 259
very fevv boys ever do, " that his master was too indulgent, and
the discipline was not sufficiently strict." From Fulham he
went to a school at Bristol, kept by Mr. Catcott, author of a
work on the Deluge, and an excellent scholar, though a severe
master. From thence he removed to a school kept by Dr. Pit
man at Markgate Street, in Hertfordshire, and there finished
his early education.
In June 1742, at the age of seventeen, Henry Venn entered
St. John's College, Cambridge. He only continued a member
of that house three months, as he removed to Jesus College in
September, on obtaining a scholarship there, and remained on
the books of Jesus for seven years. In the year 1745, he took
the degree of B.A. In 1747, he was appointed by Dr. Battie,
who had been a ward of his father's, to one of the university
scholarships which he had just founded ; and in June the same
year he was ordained deacon by Bishop Gibson, without a title,
from the respect which the bishop bore to his father's memory.
In 1749, he became M.A., and was elected Fellow of Queen's
College. This was the last of the many steps and changes in
his educational career. At this date his ministerial life begins;
and although he held his fellowship until his marriage, in 1757,
from this time he had little more close connection with Cam
bridge. Henry Venn's ministerial life began in 1749, when he was
twenty-five years old.* He first served the curacy of Barton,
near Cambridge, and afterwards officiated for various friends,
at Wadenhoe in Northamptonshire, and Little Hedingham in
Essex, and other places of which I cannot find out the names.
In 1750 he ceased to reside at Cambridge, and became curate
of Mr. Langley, rector of St. Matthew, Friday Street, London,
and West Horsley, near Guildford. Venn's duty was to serve
* By a comparison of dates it would appear that Henry Venn became a Fellow, was or
dained, and took a curacy near Cambridge in the very same year that the famous John
Berridge became curate of Stapleford, near Cambridge. But I can find no proof that
tney were friends at this time.

260 ANECDOTE OF A CRICKET-MATCH.
the church in London during part of the summer, and to reside
the remainder of the year at Horsley. In this position he re
mained continuously for four years, until he became curate of
Clapham in 1754.
I can find no evidence that Venn had any distinct theologi
cal views for some little time after he was ordained. In fact,
he appears, like too many, to have taken on him the holy office
of a minister without any adequate conception of its duties and
responsibilities. It is clear that he was moral and conscien
tious, and had a high idea of the deportment suited to the
clerical life. But it is equally clear that he knew nothing
whatever of evangelical religion ; and in aftertime he regarded
his college days as " days of vanity and ignorance."
One thing, however, is very plain in Venn's early history — he
was scrupulously honest and conscientious in acting up faith
fully to anything which he was convinced was right. Indeed,
he used often to say " that he owed the salvation of his soul to
the resolute self-denial which he exercised, in following the
dictates of conscience in a point which seemed itself of only
small importance."
" The case," says his son, " was this : He was extremely fond
of cricket, and was reckoned one of the best players in the
university. In the week before he was ordained he played in a
match between Surrey and All England, which excited great
interest, and was attended by a very numerous body of specta
tors. When the game terminated in favour ofthe side on which
he was playing, he threw down his bat, saying, ' Whoever wants
a bat which has done me good service may take that, as I have
no further occasion for it' His friends inquiring the reason, he
replied, ' Because I am to be ordained on Sunday ; and I will
never have it said of me, " Well struck, parson." ' To this
resolution, notwithstanding the remonstrances of friends, he
strictly adhered ; and, though his health suffered by a sudden
transition from a course of most violent exercise to a life of

FIRST RELLGIOUS IMPRESSIONS. 26 1
comparative inactivity, he never could be persuaded to play any
more. From being faithful in a little, more grace was imparted
to him."
" His first considerable religious impressions,'' adds his son,
" arose from an expression in the form of prayer, which he had
been accustomed to use daily, but, like most persons, without
paying much attention to it — ' That I may live to the glory of
thy name.' The thought powerfully struck his mind, ' What is
it to live to the glory of God 1 Do I live as I pray 1 What
course of life ought I to pursue to glorify God V After much
reflection, he came to the conclusion that to live to God's glory
required that he should live a life of piety and religion in a
degree in which he had not yet lived ; and that he ought to be
more strict in prayer, more diligent in reading the Scriptures and
pious books, and more generally holy in his conduct. And,
seeing the reasonableness of such a course of life, he showed his
honesty and uprightness by immediately and steadily pursuing
it. He set apart stated seasons for meditation and prayer, and
kept a strict account of the manner in which he spent his time
and regulated his conduct. I have heard him say that, at this
period, he used to walk almost every evening in the cloisters of
Trinity College while the great bell of St. Mary's was tolling at
nine o'clock, and amidst the solemn tones of the bells, and in
the stillness and darkness of the night, he would indulge in
impressive reflections on death and judgment, heaven and
hell."* " In this frame of mind," his son continues, " Law's ' Serious
Call to a Devout and Holy Life ' was particularly useful to him.
He read it repeatedly, with peculiar interest, and immediately
began, with great sincerity, to frame his life according to the
Christian model there delineated. He kept a diary of the state

* The close resemblance between Henry Venn's experience at Cambridge, and George
Whitefield's at Oxford, cannot fail to strike any one who reads attentively the biographies
of the two men.

262 ZEAL WITHOUT KNOWLEDGE.
of his mind — a practice from which he derived great benefit,
though not in the way he expected, for it chiefly made him
better acquainted with his own deficiencies. He also allotted
the hours of the day, as far as was consistent with the duties of
his station, to particular acts of meditation and devotion. He
kept frequent fasts ; and was accustomed often to take solitary
walks, in which his soul was engaged in prayer and communion
with God. I have heard him mention, that in these retired walks
in the meadow behind Jesus College he had such a view of the
goodness, mercy, and glory of God, as elevated his soul above
the world, and made him aspire toward God as his supreme
good." Such was the religious condition of Henry Venn's mind when
he first began the active work of the Christian ministry.
Earnest, zealous, moral, conscientious, and scrupulously deter
mined to do his duty, he put his hand to the plough and went
forward. At Barton he distributed religious tracts and con
versed with the poor in such an affectionate manner, that some
remembered him after an interval of thirty years. At Horsley
he instructed many of the poor on the week-days at his own
home. His family prayers were attended by thirty or forty poor
neighbours, and the number of communicants increased from
twelve to sixty. In fact, the neighbouring clergy began to regard
him as an enthusiast and a Methodist. But his zeal, unhappily,
was so far entirely without knowledge. He knew nothing what
ever of the real gospel of Christ, and, of course, could tell his
hearers nothing about it. The consequence was, that for nearly
four years of his ministerial life his labours were in vain.
Henry Venn's four years at Horsley, however, were by no
means thrown away. If he did little good to others, he cer
tainly learned lessons there of lasting benefit to his soul. The
solitude and seclusion of his position gave him abundant time
for reading, meditation, and prayer ; and in the honest use of
such means as he had, God was graciously pleased to show him

CHANGE IN HIS RELLGIOUS VIEWS. 263
more light, and to lead him onward towards the full knowledge
of the gospel. Little by little he began to find out that " Law's"
divinity was very defective, and that his favourite author did not
give sufficient honour to Christ. Little by little he began to
discover that he was, in reality, trying to " work out a righteous
ness" of his own, while, in truth, he had nothing to boast of;
and that, with all his straining after perfection, he was nothing
better than a poor weak sinner. Little by little he began to
see that true Christianity was a scheme providing for man's
wants as a ruined, fallen, and corrupt creature ; and that the
root of all vital religion is faith in the blood and righteousness
and mediation and mercy of a Divine Saviour — Christ the
Lord. The scales began to fall from his eyes. The tone of
his preaching began sensibly to alter. And though, when he
left Horsley for Clapham he had not even yet attained full
light, it is perfectly evident that he went out of the parish in a
totally different state of mind from that with which he entered.
It was true that even now he " saw men as trees, walking;"
but it is no less true that he could have said, " I was blind, and
now I see."
I pity the man who can read the story of Henry Venn's reli
gious experience without deep interest. The steps by which
God leads his children on from one degree of light to anothei
are all full of instruction. Seldom does He seem to bring his
people into the full enjoyment of spiritual knowledge all at
once. We must not, therefore, " despise the day of small
things." We should rather respect those who fight their way
out of darkness and grope after truth. What has been won by
hard fighting is often that which wears the longest. Theological
principles taken up second-hand have often no root, and en
dure but for a little season. Striking and curious is the simi
larity in the experience of Whitefield, Berridge, and Venn.
They all had to fight hard for spiritual light ; and having fount!
it, they held it fast, and never let it go.

264 CURATE OF CLAPHAM.
The five years during which Henry Venn was curate of Clap
ham completely settled his theological creed, and formed a
turning-point in his religious history. His work there was very
heavy, as he held two lectureships in London, beside his curacy.
His regular duty on Sunday consisted of a full service at Clap
ham in the morning ; a sermon in the afternoon at St. Alban's,
Wood Street ; and another in the evening at Swithin's, London
Stone. On Tuesday morning, he preached again at Swithin's ;
on Wednesday morning, at seven o'clock, at his father's old
church, St. Antholin's ; and on Thursday evening at Clapham.
To preach six sermons every week was undoubtedly a heavy
demand on a curate of only four years' standing ! Yet it is not
unlikely that the very necessity for exertion which his position
entailed on him was the means of calling forth latent power.
Men never know how much they can do, until they are put
under the screw, and obliged to exert themselves. At any rate
Venn was compelled to learn how to preach from notes, from
sheer inability to write six sermons a-week, and thus attained a
facility in extemporaneous speaking which he afterwards found
most useful.
In a spiritual point of view, Venn's character was greatly
influenced, during his five years' residence at Clapham, by three
circumstances. The first of these was a severe illness of eight
months' duration, which laid him aside from work in 1756, and
gave him time for reflection and self-examination. The second
was his marriage, in 1757, to the daughter of Dr. Bishop,
minister of the Tower Church, Ipswich ; a lady who, from her
piety and good sense, seems to have been admirably qualified
to be a clergyman's wife. The third, and probably the most
important circumstance of his position, was the friendship that
he formed with several eminent Christians, who were of great
use to his soul. At Horsley he seems to have had no help
from any one, and whatever he learned there he did not learn
from man. At Clapham, on the contrary, he at once became

LE ITER OF LADY IIUNTINGD ON. 265
intimate with the well-known layman John Thornton and Dr.
Haweis, and afterwards with George Whitefield and Lady Hunt
ingdon. To Lady Huntingdon, Henry Venn seems to have been under
peculiar obligations for advice and counsel. The following
extract from a letter which she addressed to him about the
defects in his first preaching at Clapham, is an interesting
example of her faithfulness, and throws much light on the
precise state of her correspondent's mind at this period. She
says : " O my friend, we can make no atonement to a violated
law ; we have no inward holiness of our own ; the Lord Jesus
Christ is ' the Lord our righteousness.1 Cling not to such
beggarly elements, such filthy rags, mere cobwebs of Pharisaical
pride ; but look to him who hath wrought out a perfect right
eousness for his people. You find it a hard task to come
naked and miserable to Christ ; to come divested of every
recommendation but that of abject wretchedness and misery,
and receive from the outstretched hand of our Immanuel the
riches of redeeming grace. But if you come at all you must
come thus ; and, like the dying thief, the cry of your heart must
be, ' Lord, remember me.' There must be no conditions ;
Christ and Christ alone must be the only mediator between
God and sinful men ; no miserable performance can be placed
between the sinner and the Saviour. And now, my dear friend,
no longer let false doctrine disgrace your pulpit. Preach Christ
crucified as the only foundation of the sinner's hope. Preach
him as the Author and Finisher as well as the sole Object of
faith, that faith which is the gift of God. Exhort Christless sin
ners to fly to the City of Refuge ; to look to Him who is
exalted as Prince and Saviour, to give repentance and the re
mission of sins. Go on, then, and may your bow abide in
strength. Be bold, be firm, be decided. Let Christ be the
Alpha and Omega of all you advance in your addresses to your
fellow-men. Leave the consequences to your Divine Master.

266 TESTIMONY OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
May his gracious benediction rest upon your labours ! and may
you be blessed to the conversion of very many, who shall be
your joy and crown of rejoicing in the great day when the Lord
shall appear." — The date of this faithful letter is not given. I
am inclined, however, to conjecture that it was written between
the time of Venn's illness in 1756 and his marriage in 1757.
At any rate, it is a remarkable fact, recorded by his son, that
he used to observe that after 1756 he was no longer able
to preach the sermons which he had previously composed.
Lady Huntingdon's faithful letter was probably not written in
vain. Whatever defects there may have been in Venn's doctrinal
views during the first few years of his Clapham ministry, they ap
pear to have completely vanished after his restoration to health
in 1757. He was soon recognized as a worthy fellow-labourer
with that noble little company of evangelists which, under the
leading of Whitefield and Wesley, was beginning to shake the
land ; and from his gifts as a preacher took no mean position
among them. Whitefield seems especially to have delighted
in him. In a letter written some time in 1757, he says to Lady
Huntingdon : " The worthy Venn is valiant for the truth, a son
of thunder. He labours abundantly, and his ministry has been
owned of the Lord to the conversion of sinners. Thanks be to
God for such an instrument to strengthen our hands ! I know
the intelligence will rejoice your ladyship. Your exertions in
bringing him to a clearer knowledge of the everlasting gospel
have indeed been blessed. He owes your ladyship much,
under God, and I believe his whole soul is gratitude to the
Divine Author of mercies, and to you the honoured instrument
in leading him to the fountain of truth." Testimony like this
is unexceptionable. George Whitefield was one of the last
men on earth to be satisfied with any preaching which was not
the full gospel. We cannot for a moment doubt that during
the last two years of Venn's curacy at Clapham, he at length

VICAR OF HUDDERSFIELD. 267
walked in the full light of Christ's truth, and " declared all the
counsel of God."
In the year 1759, Henry Venn was appointed vicar of Hud
dersfield, in Yorkshire, by Sir John Ramsden, at the solicitation
of Lord Dartmouth. He accepted the appointment from the
purest of all motives, a desire to do good to souls. The town
itself presented no great attractions. In point of income he
was positively a loser by the move from Clapham. But he felt
deeply that the offer opened "a great and effectual door" of
usefulness, and he did not dare to turn away from it. He
seems also to have had a strong impression that he had not
been successful at Clapham, and that this was an indication
that he ought not to refuse a change. His wife was averse to
his moving ; and her opinion no doubt placed him in much
perplexity. But the result showed beyond doubt that he de
cided rightly. In leaving Clapham for Yorkshire, he was in
God's way.
Henry Venn became vicar of Huddersfield at the age of
thirty-five, and continued there only twelve years. He went
there a poor man, without rank or influence, and with nothing
but God's truth on his side. He found the place a huge, dark,
ignorant, immoral, irreligious, manufacturing town. He left it
shaken to the centre by the lever of the gospel, and leavened
with the influence of many faithful servants of Jesus Christ,
whom he had been the means of turning from darkness to light.
Few modern ministers appear to have had so powerful an in
fluence on a town population as Henry Venn had on Hudders
field. The nearest approach to it seems to have been the work
of Robert M'Cheyne at Dundee.
The story of Henry Venn's life from the time of his settle
ment at Huddersfield is a subject which I must reserve for
another chapter. I do not feel that I could possibly do justice
to it now. How he lived, and worked, and preached, and
prospered in his great manufacturing parish — how he turned

268 VENN'S MINIS TR Y AT HUDDERSFIELD.
the world upside down throughout the district around, and be
came a centre of light and life to hundreds — how his health
finally gave way under the abundance of his labours, and
obliged him to leave Huddersfield — how he spent the last twenty
years of his life in the comparative retirement of a little rural
parish in Huntingdonshire, — all these are matters which I can
not enter into now. I hope to tell my readers something about
them in another chapter.

CHAPTER II.
Mode of Working at Huddersfield — Effect of his Ministry — Fruits found in 1824 — Extra-
parochial Labours — Friendly relation with Whitefield — Health Fails — Wife Dies —
Leaves Huddersfield for Yelling, 1771 — Description of Yelling — Second Marriage —
Description of Life at Yelling — Dies, 1797.
Henry Venn was Vicar of Huddersfield from 1759 to 177 1.
These twelve years, we need not doubt, were the period of his
greatest public usefulness. In the full vigour of his bodily and
mental faculties, with his mind thoroughly made up about all
the leading doctrines of the gospel, with his heart thoroughly
set on his Master's business, he entered his new sphere with
peculiar power and acceptance, and soon " made full proof of
his ministry." His time there was certainly short, if measured
by years alone, in consequence of his failing health ; but it
measured by action and usefulness, like Edward the Sixth's
reign, it was very long indeed.
For more than one reason a peculiar interest attaches to
Venn's ministry at Huddersfield. For one thing, he was the
only one of the seven spiritual heroes of the last century who
ever became incumbent of a large town population. Wesley
and Whitefield were itinerant evangelists, whose parish was the
world. Romaine was the rector of a little confined district in
the City. Rowlands lived and died among Welsh mountains,
Grimshaw on Yorkshire moors, and Berridge on Bedfordshire

HIS MODE OF WORKING. 269
plains. Venn was the only man among the seven who could
number his lawful parishioners by thousands. — For another
thing, he was the first evangelical clergyman in the Church of
England who proved that the manufacturing masses of our
fellow-countrymen can be thoroughly reached by the gospel.
He proved to a demonstration that the working-classes in our
great northern towns are to be got at just like other men, if
they are approached in the proper way. He proved that the
preaching of the cross suits the wants of all Adam's children,
and that it can " turn the world upside down " among looms
and coal-mines, just as thoroughly as it can in watering-places,
country parishes, or metropolitan chapels-of-ease. We all know
this now. Nobody would dream of denying it. But we must
remember it was not so well known a hundred years ago. Let
honour be given where honour is due. The first clergyman in
England who fairly proved the power of evangelical aggression
on a manufacturing parish, was Henry Venn.
A clergyman's work in a large town district in the last cen
tury was very unlike what it is in these times. A vast quantity
of religious machinery, with which every one is familiar now, in
those days did not exist. City missions, Scripture readers'
societies, Pastoral aid societies, Bible women, mothers' meet
ings, were utterly unknown. Even schools for the children of
the poor were few, and comparatively defective, and utterly out
of proportion to the wants of the population. In short, the
evangelical minister of a great town a hundred years ago was
almost entirely shut up to the use of one weapon. The good
old apostolical plan of incessant preaching, both " publicly and
from house to house," was "nearly the only machine that he
could use. He was forced to be pre-eminently a man of one
thing, and a soldier with one weapon, a perpetual preacher ot
God's Word. Whether in the long run the minister of last cen
tury did not do more good with his one weapon than many do
in modern times with an immense train of parochial machinery,

270 HIS POPULARITY.
is a question which admits of much doubt. My own private
opinion is, that we have too much lost sight of apostolical sim
plicity in our ministerial work. We want more men of " one
thing " and " one book," men who make everything secondary
to preaching the Word. It is hard to have many irons in the
fire at once, and to keep them all hot. It is quite possible to
maKe an idol of parochial machinery, and for the sake of it to
slight the pulpit.
These things ought to be carefully remembered in forming an
estimate of Venn's ministry at Huddersfield. Let us never
forget that he went to his great Yorkshire parish, like David
against Goliath, with nothing but his sling and stones, and an
unwavering faith in the power of God. He went there with no
sympathizing London committee to correspond with him, en
courage him, and assist him with funds. He went there with
no long-tried plans and approved modes of evangelical aggres
sion in his pocket. He went there with nothing but his Bible,
and his Master at his side. Bearing these things in mind, I
think the following extracts from his admirable biography ought
to possess a peculiar interest in our eyes.
His son, John Venn, says : " As soon as he began to preach
at Huddersfield, the church became crowded to such an extent
that many were not able to procure admission. Numbers be
came deeply impressed with concern about their immortal souls;
persons flocked from the distant hamlets, inquiring what they
must do to be saved. He found them in general utterly igno
rant of their state by nature, and of the redemption that is in
Christ Jesus. His bowels yearned over his flock, and he was
never satisfied with his labours among them, though they were
continued to a degree ruinous to his health. On the Sunday
he would often address the congregation from the desk, briefly
explaining the psalms and the lessons. He would frequently
begin the service with a solemn and most impressive address,
exhorting the worshippers to consider themselves as in the

HIS REVERENCE FOR THE SABBATH. 271
presence of the great God of heaven, whose eye was in a par
ticular manner upon them, while they drew nigh to him in his
own house. His whole soul was engaged in preaching ; and as
at this time he only used short notes in the pulpit, ample room
was left to indulge the feelings of compassion, tenderness, and
love, with which his heart overflowed towards his people. In
the week he statedly visited the different hamlets in his exten
sive parish ; and collecting some of the inhabitants at a private
house, he addressed them with a kindness and earnestness
which moved every heart." A letter written in 1762 to Lady
Huntingdon, informs us that in that year, beside his stated work
on the Lord's day, the Vicar of Huddersfield generally preached
eight or ten sermons in the week in distant parts of the parish,
when many came to hear who would not come to church. It
also mentions that his outdoor preaching was found especially
useful. His grandson, Henry Venn, has gathered some additional
facts about his Huddersfield ministry, which are well worth
recording. He tells us that " Mr. Venn made a great point of
the due observance of the Sabbath, both in the town and parish.
He induced several of the most respectable and influential in
habitants to perambulate the town, and by persuasion, rather
than by legal intimidation, to repress the open violation of the
clay. By such means a great and evident reformation was ac
complished." " He endeavoured to preserve the utmost reverence and de
votion in public worship, constantly pressing this matter upon
his people. He read the service with peculiar solemnity and
effect. The Te Deum, especially, was recited with a triumphant
air and tone, which often produced a perceptible sensation
throughout the whole congregation. He succeeded in inducing
the people to join in the responses and singing. Twice in the
course of his ministry at Huddersfield he preached a course of
sermons in explanation of the Liturgy. On one occasion, as

272 EFFECTS OF HIS MINISTRY.
he went up to church, he found a considerable number of per
sons in the churchyard, waiting for the commencement of the
service. He stopped to address them, saying, he hoped they
were preparing their hearts for the service of God, and that he
had himself much to do to preserve his heart in a right frame.
He concluded by waving his hand for them to go into the
church before him, and waited till they had all entered."
" He took great pains in catechizing the younger members
of his congregation, chiefly those who were above fourteen years
of age. The number was often very considerable ; and he wrote
out for their use a very copious Explanation of the Church
Catechism, in the way of questions and answers."*
The immediate effects produced by Henry Venn's preaching
appear to have been singularly deep, powerful, and permanent.
Both his son and grandson have supplied some striking illus
trations of them.
His son says : " A club, chiefly composed of Socinians, in a
neighbouring market-town, having heard much censure and
ridicule bestowed upon the preaching of Henry Venn, sent two
of their ablest members to hear this strange preacher, detect his
absurdities, and furnish matter of merriment for the next meet
ing. They accordingly went to Huddersfield Church ; but
were greatly struck, on entering, by seeing the multitude that
was assembled together, and by observing the devotion of their
behaviour, and their anxiety to attend the worship of God.
When Mr. Venn ascended the reading-desk, he addressed his
flock, as usual, with a solemnity and dignity which showed him
to be deeply interested in the work in which he was engaged.
The subsequent earnestness of his preaching, and the solemn
appeals he made to conscience, deeply impressed the visitors,
* I cannot make out whether this Explanation of the Church Catechism was ever pub
lished. It certainly does not appear in a complete manuscript catalogue of Mr. Venn's
writings which, by the kindness of one of his descendants, is now lying before me. If it
was ever published, it seems a pity that it has fallen out of sight, and is not better known.
Something, perhaps, would be known of it in the town of Huddersfield at this day. Can
any reader throw light on the point f

FRUITS FOUND IN 1824. 2 73
so that one of them observed, as they left the church, ' Surely
God is in this place ! There is no matter for laughter here !'
This gentleman immediately called on Mr. Venn, told him who
he was, and the purpose for which he had come, and earnestly
begged his forgiveness and his prayers. He requested Mr.
Venn to visit him without delay, and left the Socinian congre
gation ; and from that time to the hour of his death became
one of Mr. Venn's most faithful and affectionate friends."*
" Another gentleman, highly respectable for his character,
talents, and piety, the late William Hey, Esq., of Leeds, used
frequently to go to Huddersfield to hear Mr. Venn preach, and
he assured me that once returning home with an intimate friend,
they neither of them opened their lips to each other till they
came within a mile of Leeds, a distance of fifteen miles, so
deeply were they impressed by the truths which they had heard,
and the manner in which they had been delivered."
Henry Venn's grandson visited Huddersfield in 1824, fifty-
three years after his honoured grandfather had left the place.
On inquiry he found that even after the lapse of half a century,
the fruits of his wonderful ministry were yet remaining on earth.
The memorials he gathered together from these survivors of
the old congregation are so deeply interesting that I am sure
my readers will be glad to hear them, though in a somewhat
abridged form.
Mr. Venn's grandson says : " Through the kind assistance of
Benjamin Hudson, Esq., of Huddersfield, I saw all the old
people then living in the town and neighbourhood who had
received their first religious impressions under my grandfather's
ministry, and still maintained a religious character. They were
all in the middle or lower ranks of life ; none of a superior class
had survived. What I am about to record must, therefore, be
received as the genuine and unstudied testimony of persons of
plain, unpolished sense.
* This gentleman was James Kershaw, Esq. , of Halifax.
(1S5) 18

274 TESTIMONY OF LLVING WITNESSES.
" Mr. William Brook of Longwood gave me the following
.account of the first sermon he heard at Huddersfield Church :
' I was first led to go by listening with an uncle of mine, named
W. Mellor, at the door of a prayer-meeting : we thought there
must be something uncommon to make people so earnest. My
uncle was about nineteen, and I was about sixteen ; and we
went together to the church one Thursday evening. There was
a great crowd within the church, all silent, and many weeping.
The text was, " Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found
wanting." W. Mellor was deeply attentive ; and when we came
out of church we did not say a word to each other till we got
some way into the fields. Then W. Mellor stopped, leaned his
back against a wall, and burst into tears, saying, " I can't stand
this." His conviction of sin was from that time most powerful,
and he became quite a changed character. I was not so much
affected at that time; but I could not after that sermon be easy
in sin. I began to pray regularly ; and so, by degrees, I was
brought to know myself, and to seek salvation in earnest. The
people used to go from Longwood in droves, to Huddersfield
Church, three miles off. Some of them came out of church to
gether, whose ways home were in this direction; and they used
to stop at the Firs' End, about a mile off, and talk over, for
some time, what they had heard, before they separated to go to
their homes. That place has been to me like a little heaven
below !
" ' I never heard a minister like him. He was most powerful
in unfolding the terrors of the law. When doing so, he had a
stern look that would make you tremble. Then he would turn
off to the offers of grace, and begin to smile, and go on entreat
ing till his eyes filled with tears.'
" The next person I saw was George Crow, aged eighty-two,
of Lockwood, a hamlet about a mile from the town. When I
asked him whether he ever thought of old times, he answered,
' Ah, yes ! and shall do to the last. I thought when Mr. Venn

ELLEN ROEBUCK AND JOHN STARKLY. 275
went I should be like Rachel for the rest of my days, weeping
and refusing to be comforted. I was abidingly impressed the
first time I heard him, at an early period of his ministry. He
was such a preacher as I never heard before or since; he struck
upon the passions like no other man. Nobody could help
being affected : the most wicked and ill-conditioned men went
to hear him, and fell like slaked lime in a moment, even though
they were not converted. I could have heard him preach all
the night through.'
" I also visited Ellen Roebuck, eighty-five, living at Almond-
bury. She was very deaf and infirm, but when she understood
the object of my visit she talked with great energy. ' I well
remember his first coming to Huddersfield, and the first sermon
he preached. It was on that text, " My heart's desire and
prayer to God for Israel is that they may be saved :'' and it was
as true of himself as it was of St. Paul. He took every method
for instructing the people ; he left nothing unturned. Always
at work ! it was a wonder he had not done for himself sooner.
The lads he catechized used to tell him that people said he was
teaching a new doctrine, and leading us into error ; but he
always replied, " Never mind them ; do not answer them; read
your Bibles, and press forward, dear lads ; press forward, and
you cannot miss heaven."'
" I saw also John Starkey of Cawcliff, aged eighty. As I
conversed with him, he seemed gradually to wake up, till his
countenance glistened with joy. He said, ' I esteemed Mr.
Venn too much for a man. I almost forgot that he was a
creature and an instrument. His going away went nearer to
my heart than anything. He was a wonderful preacher. When
he got warm with his subject, he looked as if he would jump
out of his pulpit. He made many weep. I have often wept
at his sermons. I could have stood to hear him till morning.
When he came up to the church, he used to go round the
churchyard and drive us all in before him.' "

276 EXTRA-PAROCHIAL LABOURS.
I make no excuse for making the above extracts. They
speak for themselves. I pity the man who can read them
without interest. If after fifty years such living witnesses to
the power of Henry Venn's ministry could be found, what may
we suppose must have been the effect of his preaching in his
day and generation \ If the direct good he did was so marked
and unmistakable, what a vast amount of indirect good must
have been done by his presence in the district where God
placed him 1
We must not for a moment suppose that Henry Venn's
labours in Christ's cause were entirely confined to Huddersfield
during the time that he was vicar of that parish. So far from
this being the case, there is abundant evidence that he occa
sionally did the work of an evangelist in many parts of England
very distant from Yorkshire. We possess no journal of his
movements, but a close examination of that interesting but
oddly-arranged book, " Lady Huntingdon's Life and Times,"
shows plainly that the Vicar of Huddersfield preached every
year in many pulpits besides his own. It could hardly be
otherwise. He was on terms of intimate friendship with all the
leading evangelists of his day, such as Wesley, Whitefield, Grim
shaw, and Fletcher. These apostolic men not unfrequently
found their way to Huddersfield vicarage, and preached for him
in his pulpit. We cannot wonder that, so long as health per
mitted, Venn helped them in return. In fact, he seems fre
quently to have made excursions through various parts of
England, and to have laboured in every way to preach the
gospel, as an itinerant, so far as parochial engagements would
allow him. We hear of him constantly in Lady Huntingdon's
chapel at Oathall near Brighton, and at Bath. At one time he
is at Bretby near Burton-on-Trent. At another he is at
Fletcher's famous establishment at Trevecca in South Wales.
Occasionally we read of his preaching at Bristol, Chelten
ham, Gloucester, Worcester, and London. The half of his

FRIENDLY RELATION WITH WHITEFIELD. 277
labours, probably, outside his own parish, is entirely un
known. The truth must be spoken on this point. It is vain to
attempt to draw any broad line of distinction between Henry
Venn and his great contemporaries in the revival of the last
century. No doubt he had a large town parish, and of course
found it more difficult than others to be long absent from home.
But in all spiritual points, in matters of doctrine and practice,
and in his judgment of what the times required, he was entirely
one with Whitefield and Grimshaw. He delighted in their
labours. He stood by their side and helped them, whenever
he had an opportunity. When Grimshaw died, it was Henry
Venn who preached his funeral sermon in Luddenden Church.
When Whitefield died, the man who preached the noblest
funeral sermon in Lady Huntingdon's chapel at Bath was the
same Henry Venn. Conduct like this, I am afraid, will not
recommend my hero to some Churchmen. They will think he
would have done better had he confined his labours to Hud
dersfield, and abstained from apparent irregularities. I content
myself with saying that I cannot agree with them. I think that
in keeping up intimate relations with the itinerant evangelists of
last century, Venn did what was best and wisest in the days in
which he lived. I think his unhesitating attachment to White-
field to the very last a singularly noble trait in his character. It
ought never to be forgotten that the last sermon preached by
Whitefield in Yorkshire, before he sailed for America to die,
was delivered in the pulpit of Huddersfield Church.
An extract from a letter written by Venn to Lady Hunting
don, about the year 1768, will give a very clear idea of the
unhesitating course of action which the Vicar of Fluddersfield
adopted, and the boldness with which he supported Whitefield.
It was written on the occasion of Whitefield preaching on a
tombstone in the churchyard of Cheltenham Parish Church,
after permission had been refused to preach in the -church.

278 LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON.
Venn says: "To give your ladyship any just description of
what our eyes have witnessed and our hearts have felt within
the last few days at Cheltenham, exceeds my feeble powers.
My inmost soul is penetrated with an overwhelming sense of
the power and presence of Jehovah, who has visited us with an
effusion of his Spirit in a very eminent manner. There was a
visible appearance of much soul-concern among the crowd that
filled every part of the burial-ground. Many were overcome
with fainting; others sobbed deeply; some wept silently; and
a solemn concern appeared on the countenance of almost the
whole assembly. But when he pressed the injunction of the
text (Isa. Iv. i) on the unconverted and ungodly, his words
seemed to act like a sword, and many burst out into piercing
cries. At this juncture Mr. Whitefield made an awful pause oi
a few seconds, and wept himself. During this interval Mr.
Madan and myself stood up and requested the people, as much
as possible, to restrain themselves from making a noise. Oh,
with what eloquence, what energy, what melting tenderness, did
Mr. Whitefield beseech sinners to be reconciled to God, to
come to Him for life everlasting, and to rest their weary souls
on Christ the Saviour ! When the sermon was ended the
people seemed chained to the ground. Mr. Madan, Mr.
Talbot, and myself, found ample employment in trying to com
fort those who seemed broken down under a sense of guilt.
We separated in different directions among the crowd, and each
was quickly surrounded by an attentive audience still eager to
hear all the words of this life. Of such a season it may well be
said, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of
salvation I have succoured thee ; behold ! now is the accepted
time — behold ! now is the day of salvation !"
In the year 1771, Henry Venn's useful Yorkshire ministry
came to an end. Most reluctantly he left Huddersfield, and
became the rector of Yelling, a small country living in Hunting
donshire. This happened when he was only forty-seven years

BECOMES RECTOR OF YELLING. 279
old. There were many who blamed him for the step, and
thought that he ought to have died at his post in Yorkshire.
But really, when the circumstances of the case are fairly con
sidered, it seems impossible to say that he was wrong. His
health during the latter period of his residence at Huddersfield
failed so completely, that his public usefulness was almost at an
end. He had a cough and spitting of blood, beside other
symptoms of approaching consumption. He was only able to
preach once a fortnight ; and even then the exertion rendered
him incapable of rising from his couch for several days. In
short, it is very evident that if he had continued at Hudders
field much longer, he would have died. Just at this crisis, his
friend the Lord Chief Baron Smythe, who was one of the Com
missioners of the Great Seal, offered him the Chancellor's living
of Yelling. The offer appears to me to have been a providential
opening, and I think Venn was quite right to accept it.
It is easy to find fault with Venn for " overworking" himself
at Huddersfield, and to hold him up as a beacon and warning
to young ministers who are full of zeal and abundant in labours.
I venture to doubt, however, whether it is quite just and fair.
It was not "overworking" alone that made his health break
down. There were mental causes as well as physical. Nothing,
I suspect, had so much to do with his removal from Hudders
field as the death of his wife in 1767, leaving him a widower
with five young children. Up to this time, his position at
Huddersfield had been one of many trials, partly from the bitter
opposition of many who hated evangelical religion, partly from
the straitened circumstances to which his very scanty income
often reduced him. But so long as his wife lived, none of these
things seemed to have moved him. Mrs. Venn was a woman
of rare prudence, calmness, good sense, affection, and sympathy.
She was, in fact, her husband's right hand. When she died,
such a load of care and anxiety was accumulated on his head,
that his health gradually gave way. People who have not been

2 S o HIS FEELINGS AT PAR TING.
placed in similar circumstances, may probably not understand
all this. Those who have had this cross to carry, can testify
that there is no position in this world so trying to body and
soul as that of the minister who is left a widower, with a young
family and a large congregation. There are anxieties in such
cases which no one knows but he who has gone through them;
anxieties which can crush the strongest spirit, and wear out the
strongest constitution. This, I strongly suspect, was one chief
secret of Venn's removal from Huddersfield. He left it, no
doubt, because he felt himself too ill to do any more work
there. But the true cause probably of his breaking down was
the load of care entailed on him by the death of his wife. It
was just one of those secret blows from which a man's bodily
health never recovers.
Venn's own private feelings, on leaving Huddersfield, are best
described in a letter which he wrote at the time to Lady
Huntingdon : — " No human being," he says, " can tell how
keenly I feel this separation from a people I have dearly loved.
But the shattered state of my health, occasioned by my un
pardonable length and loudness in speaking, has reduced me to
a state which incapacitates me for the charge of so large a
parish. Providence has put it into the heart of the Lord Com
missioner to offer this small living to me. Pray for me, my
most faithful friend, that God's blessing may go with me, and
render my feeble attempts to speak of his love and mercy effi
cacious to the conversion of souls. At Yelling, as at Hudders
field, I shall still be your ladyship's willing servant in the service
of the gospel ; and when I can be of any use in furthering your
plans for the salvation of souls and the glory of Christ, I am
your obedient servant at command."
It is recorded that the last two or three months of Venn's
residence at Huddersfield were peculiarly affecting. At an
early hour the church was crowded when he preached, so that
vast numbers were compelled to go away. Many came from

DESCRIPTION OF YELLLNG. 281
a great distance to take leave of him, and tell him how much
they owed him for benefits received under his ministry.
Mothers held up their children, saying, " There is the man who
has been our faithful minister and our best friend !" The
whole parish was deeply moved; and when he preached his
farewell sermon (Col. iii. 2) he could hardly speak for deep
emotion. The parish of Yelling, to which Henry Venn retired on
leaving Huddersfield, is a little agricultural district on the
south-east border of Huntingdonshire, about seven miles south
of Huntingdon, five east of St. Neots, and twelve miles west of
Cambridge. At this present day it has a population of about
400 souls. It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast
than the great evangelist of Yorkshire found between his new
cure and his old. Vast indeed is the transition from the warm
hearted and intelligent worshippers of a northern manufacturing
district to the dull, and cold, and impassive inhabitants of a
purely agricultural parish in the south of England ! Venn felt it
deeply. He says himself in a letter to Stillingfleet, " Your letter
found me under great searchings of heart, upon the point of
beginning my ministry in this place. What a change from
thousands to a company of one hundred! from a people
generally enlightened, and many converted, to one yet sitting
in darkness, and ignorant of the first principles of the gospel !
from a house resounding with the voice of thanksgiving, like
the noise of many waters, to one where the solitary singers
please themselves with empty sounds, or gratify their vanity by
the imagination of their own excellence! from a Bethel to
myself, and many more, to a nominal worship of the God of
Christians ! A change painful indeed, yet unavoidable. With
a heavy heart, therefore, did I begin yesterday to address my
new hearers."
Trying, however, as the change was to Henry Venn's mind,
there can be little doubt that it was exceedingly beneficial to

282 HIS SECOND MARRIAGE.
his body. The comparative rest and entire change of his new
position in all probability saved his life. Little by little his
constitution rallied and recovered his tone, until he was able to
get through the work of his small parish with comparative ease.
In short, after going away from Huddersfield, apparently to
die, he lived on no less than twenty-six years, to the great joy
of his friends, the great advantage of his family, and the great
benefit of the Church of Christ. How little man knows what
is best for his fellow-creatures ! If the Vicar of Huddersfield
had remained at his post, and died in harness, his children
would have lost the best training that children perhaps ever
had, and the world would have lost a quantity of most valuable
correspondence. Venn's life at Yelling was singularly quiet and uneventful.
His second marriage, soon after his settlement there, appears
to have added much to his happiness. The lady whom he
married was the widow of Mr. Smith of Kensington, and
daughter of the Rev. James Ascough, Vicar of Highworth,
Wilts. In her he had the comfort of finding a thorough help,
and a most wise and affectionate stepmother to his children.
She lived with him twenty-one years, and was buried at Yelling.
The domestic arrangements and employments at his country
home were truly simple and edifying. The following sketch,
drawn out by himself for a Huddersfield friend, gives a pleasing
impression of the way in which his life went on : " You tell me
you have no idea how we go on. Take the following sketch.
I am up one of the first in the house, soon after five o'clock ;
and when prayer and reading the blessed Word is done my
daughters make their appearance, and I teach them till Mrs.
Venn comes down at half-past eight. Then family prayer
begins, which is often very sweet, as my own servants are all,
I believe, born of God. The children begin to sing prettily ;
and our praises, I trust, are heard on high. From breakfast
we are all employed till we ride out, in fine weather, two hours

LIFE AT YELLING. 283
for health, and after dinner employed again. At six, I have
always one hour for solemn meditation and walking in my
house till seven. We have then sometimes twenty, and some
times more, of the people, to whom I expound God's Word.
Several appear much affected ; and sometimes Jesus stands in
the midst, and says, 'Peace be unto you !' Our devotions end
at eight, we sup and go to rest at ten. On Sundays I am still
enabled to speak six hours, at three different times, to my own
great surprise. Oh the goodness of God in raising me up !"
Quiet, however, as Henry Venn's life was at Yelling, we
must not suppose that he had no opportunities of being useful
to souls. Far from it. He was within reach of good old John
Berridge, and the two fellow-labourers often met and strength
ened one another's hands. Though he seldom came before the
public as he did in his Huddersfield days, he still found many
ways of doing his Master's business, and proclaiming the gospel
which he loved. The value of his preaching was soon dis
covered even in his secluded neighbourhood, and he had the
comfort of seeing fruit of his ministry in Huntingdonshire as
real and true, if not so abundant, as in Yorkshire. Occasion
ally he preached out of his own parish, though not perhaps so
often as his friend and neighbour Berridge could have wished
him. He delighted in the society of the good Vicar of Ever
ton whenever he could have it. " Just such a Calvinist as Mr.
Berridge is," he used to say, " I wish all ministers of Christ to
be." Sometimes he preached in London, and was not ashamed
to appear in the pulpit of Surrey Chapel so late as 1786. His
vicinity to Cambridge gave him many opportunities of seeing
members of the University who valued evangelical truth, and
men like Simeon, Jowett, Robinson, and Farish, long testified
their deep sense of the advantage they derived from his society
and conversation. Above all, the leisure that he enjoyed at
Yelling enabled him to keep up a very extensive correspondence.
He lived in the good old time when letters were really well thought

284 RETIRES FROM THE MINISTRY.
over and worth reading, and the letters that left Yelling parsonage
are a proof to this day how wisely and well he used his pen.
On the whole, the evening of Henry Venn's life seems to
have been a singularly happy one. He had the immense
comfort of seeing his four children walking in their father's
footsteps, clinging firmly to the doctrines he had loved and
preached, and steadily serving their father's God. Not least,
he had the joy of seeing his son John an able minister of the
New Testament, and of leaving him rector of Clapham, and a
man honoured by all who knew him. Indeed, it is recorded
that there were few texts so frequently on Henry Venn's lips,
in his latter years, as the saying of Solomon, "A wise son
maketh a glad father."
At the age of sixty-eight, he withdrew almost entirely from
the public work of the ministry. His constitution had never
entirely recovered from the effect of his work at Huddersfield,
and old age came prematurely upon him. Yet even then he
was never idle. In fact, he knew not what it was to have a
tedious or a vacant hour.
His last days are so beautifully described by his grandson,
in his admirable biography, that I shall give the account just
as he has set it down. He tells us that " he found constant
employment in reading and writing, and in the exercise of
prayer and meditation. He often declared that he never felt
more fervency of devotion than whilst imploring spiritual bless
ings for his children and friends, and especially for the success
of those who were still engaged in the ministry of the blessed
gospel, from which he was himself laid aside. For himself, his
prayer was, that he might die to the glory of Christ. ' There
are some moments,' he once said, ' when I am afraid of what
is to come in the last agonies ; but I trust in the Lord to hold
me up. I have a great work before me, to suffer and to die
to his glory.' But the spread of his Redeemer's kingdom lay
nearer to his heart than any earthly or personal concerns. Even

HIS DEATH. 285
when the decay of strength produced occasional torpor, this
subject would rouse him to a degree of fervency and joy, from
which his bodily frame would afterwards suffer. I have under
stood that nothing so powerfully excited his spirits as the pre
sence of young ministers whose hearts he believed to be devote!
to Christ.
" About six months before his death he finally left Yelling,
and settled at Clapham, near his son. His health from this
time rapidly failed, and he was often on the brink of the grave.
A medical friend, named Pearson, who often visited him,
observed that the near prospect of death so elated his mind
with joy, that it actually proved a stimulus to life. On one
occasion Mr. Venn remarked some fatal appearances, and said,
' Surely these are good symptoms.' Mr. Pearson replied, ' Sir,
in this state of joyous excitement you cannot die !'
"At length, on the 24th of June 1797, his happy spirit was
released, and, at the age of seventy-three, Henry Venn entered
into the long anticipated joy of his Lord."
I have yet more to say about this good man. His preaching,
his literary remains, his correspondence, and the leading features
of his character, all seem to deserve further notice. But I must
reserve all to another chapter.

CHAPTER III.
His Preaching Analysed — His Literary Remains examined — Extraordinary Power as a
Letter-writer — Soundness of Judgment about Doctrine — Wisdom and Good Sense
about Duties — Prudent Management of his Children — Un worldliness and Cheerful
ness — Catholicity and Kindliness of Spirit — Testimony of Cowper, Simeon, and Sir
James Stephen.
It is no easy matter, in the latter part of the nineteenth century,
to form a correct estimate of Henry Venn's gifts and character.
In fact, the materials for forming it are singularly scanty. He
was peculiarly a man of one thing, absorbed in the direct work

286 HENRY VENN'S BIOGRAPHY.
of his calling, always about his Master's business, and regard
less of the verdict of posterity. He spent the greater part of
his life in Yorkshire and Bedfordshire, in days when the public
press was in its infancy, and there was but little communica
tion between county and county. The only trustworthy bio
graphy ofthe man is a short account begun by his son, but not
completed, and finished by a grandson who never saw him.
As a specimen of biography, Venn's " Life '' is beyond all
praise; but still it is the work of a loving relative, and not of a
bystander. Under these circumstances I feel unusual difficulty
in handling the subject of this chapter. I cannot help thinking
that the famous Vicar of Huddersfield was a man who is scarcely
understood by the present generation. However, I must throw
myself on the indulgence of my readers, and do the best I can.
There are two things which I propose to do in this chapter, I
will first give some account of my hero, as a preacher, a writer,
and a correspondent. I will then point out certain prominent
features in his character, which appear to me of such rare beauty
and excellence that they deserve the special notice of Christians.
As a preacher, I venture to think we know next to nothing
of what Venn was. His sermons still extant, consisting of
fourteen preached at Clapham, before he removed to Hudders
field, and eight single discourses preached on various special
occasions between 1758 and 1785, most certainly fail to give
us any idea of his pulpit powers. Perhaps the best of them
are his funeral sermons for Grimshaw and Whitefield. In
doctrine they are all, no doubt, sound, scriptural, and evan
gelical. But it is useless to deny that, at this day, they seem,
as you read them, rather tame and commonplace. There is
nothing striking, brilliant, or powerful about them. There is
nothing that appears likely to lay hold of men's minds, to arrest
or to keep up attention. In short, you find it hard to believe
that the man who preached these sermons could ever have been
considered a great preacher.

VENN AS A PREACHER. 2S7
Yet it is clear as daylight that Henry Venn was a great
preacher. The extraordinary effects that his sermons produced
at Huddersfield — his undeniable popularity with congregations
accustomed to hear such mighty orators as Whitefield — the
high opinion entertained of his powers by Lady Huntingdon
and other good judges — all these are facts that cannot possibly
be explained away. The Vicar of Huddersfield may not have
possessed the glowing eloquence of Rowlands or Whitefield.
But for all that he must evidently have been a man of great
pulpit powers.
The truth of the matter, I suspect, is simply this. Venn's
sermons were precisely of that sort which are excellent to hear,
but not excellent to read. Listened to, they are clear, satisfy
ing, interesting, and instructive. Written down, they seem
poor, and ungrammatical, and diffuse, and commonplace.
Whether men will believe it or not, it is a fact that English for
hearing, and English for reading, are almost two different lan
guages, and that speeches and sermons which sound admirable
when you listen to them, seem curiously flat and lifeless when
you sit down to read them in cold blood. Of all the illustra
tions of this principle in rhetoric, I venture the conjecture that
there seldom was a more remarkable one than Venn. To read
his sermons over, there seems no more life or fire in them than
there is in an empty stove in July. And yet the Vicar of
Huddersfield, by the universal testimony of all his contempo
raries, was a mighty preacher.
Let us add to all this that Venn's action and delivery, by all
accounts, were singularly lively and forcible. The witness of
his hearers at Huddersfield, on this point, was unanimous. His
face, his voice, his hands, his eyes, his whole manner in preach
ing, arrested attention, and clothed all that he said with power.
Who can deny the immense effect of good delivery % The
ancients went so far as to call it the first, second, and third
qualification of a good orator. Who can fail to see, from the

288 HIS EARLIER SERMONS.
traditional account, already quoted, that Venn had a peculiar
gift of delivery 1 The sermons of a man who " looked as if he
would jump out of the pulpit," may contain nothing that is
original or remarkable, but they are just the sermons that often
turn the world upside down. Printed sermons can show us a
preacher's matter, but they cannot show us his manner as
delivered. Second-rate matter, if only well delivered, will never
fail to beat first-rate matter badly delivered, as long as the
world stands.
After all, we must never forget that we know nothing of the
nature of Venn's sermons in the days of his greatest power.
They were extempore sermons, or sermons preached from notes ;
and that fact alone speaks volumes. Not one of these ser
mons, I believe, was taken down shorthand, as most of White-
field's were, and the consequence is that we have not an idea
what they were like. But every intelligent hearer of the present
day knows well that a man may be a most powerful extempore
preacher, who is a very dull and uninteresting writer. There
are scores of men whom it is very pleasant to hear, but very
wearying to read. Perhaps if we possessed good shorthand
reports of some of Venn's best Huddersfield sermons, we should
see at a glance the secrets of his popularity as a preacher. As
matters stand, I must frankly confess it is a subject which is
now wrapped in some obscurity. I have done my best to throw
some conjectural light upon it, and must leave it here. I only
wish to remind my readers, in passing on, that there are few
things so little understood in the world as the true causes of
pulpit power.
As a writer, Venn's reputation rests almost entirely on two
works, which are pretty well known, — " The Complete Duty of
Man," and " Mistakes in Religion." The first of them is a
" System of doctrinal and practical Christianity," and was
intended to supply something better than that mischievous and
defective volume, the " Whole Duty of Man." The second of

HIS LITERARY REMAINS. 289
them is a collection of essays on the prophecy of Zacharias
(the father of John Baptist), in which the erroneousness of
many common views of religion is faithfully and scripturally
exposed. Besides these, Venn published two or three smaller
pamphlets, which are but little known.
The two works above-named were undoubtedly very useful
in their day, and are still to be found on the shelves of most
collectors of religious literature. They are sound, scriptural,
and evangelical. But I strongly suspect that they stick to the
shelves on which they stand, and are books which most people
know better by name than by reading. The plain truth is, that
every age has its own peculiar style of writing. Popular as the
" Spectator," and " Tatler," and " Rambler," were in their times,
it may well be doubted whether they would be much read if
published now. Even the pens of Addison, Johnson, and
Steele, would not command success. The same remark applies
to the sound and scriptural writings of Henry Venn. They did
good service in their day, when men loved a somewhat stiff
and classical style, and would have turned with disdain from
any other sort of English composition as unworthy of an
educated person. But like the jawbone of an ass, which
Samson once used so effectively, they are now laid aside.
Their work is done. Like the famous long-bows which our
forefathers used at Cressy and Agincourt, we still view them
with respect, and are proud of the victories which they won.
But we do not use them ourselves. Rifled artillery and breech
loaders have superseded them. The fashion of our weapons
is changed. After all, a close examination of Venn's two volumes will
soon show an intelligent reader why they are no longer
popular. The composition is of that stately and somewhat
high-flown style which was thought the standard of excellence
in the last century. The sentences are often very long, and
somewhat involved. The words are frequently of Latin or
(195) 19

290 VENN AS A LETTER-WRITER.
French origin. There is a curious absence of that rich fund
of ready, happy illustration, which Whitefield and Rowlands
had at their finger ends. The appeals to the imagination
are few, and come in stiffly and awkwardly when they do
come, like men dressed in new or borrowed clothes. In short,
the style of the books is neither Saxon, nor sparkling, nor
racy, nor pithy, nor anecdotal, nor pictorial. We must not
wonder that they are no longer popular. Let us thank God
for them. They were read in their day and generation by
hundreds, who would probably have read no other evangelical
literature. They may still do good to good men, and be liked
by those who are really hungering for spiritual food. But we
must not insist on everybody admiring them, or call people
graceless and ungodly because they do not take pleasure in
reading them. We must not count it a strange thing if many
call them heavy, and dry, and cold.
As a correspondent and letter-writer, Henry Venn deserves the
highest admiration. Nothing gives me such a high idea of his
mental and spiritual stature, as the collection of letters which
accompanies his biography. I never wonder at his reputation
when I read these letters. I consider them above all praise,
and commend them to the special attention of all who want
to form a just estimate of the seventh great evangelist of
England a hundred years ago. The true measure of the Vicar
of Huddersfield and Yelling is to be found in his letters
much more than his books or printed sermons.
Letter-writing, we must never forget, was a much more im
portant business in the last century than it is at the present day.
The daily newspaper was a very different affair from what it is
now. Periodicals and cheap publications had a very limited
circulation. The result was, that letters became most powerful
instruments either for good or evil. Men of the world, like
Lord Hervey, Lord Chesterfield, or Horace Walpole, were not
ashamed to throw their whole minds into their correspondence.

SUPERIOR TO HIS PUBLISHED WORKS. 291
Religious men entered so fully into doctrinal, practical, and ex
perimental questions with their correspondents, that their letters
were almost as useful as their sermons. John Newton's well-
known volume of letters, called " Cardiphonia," has perhaps
done as much good to Christ's cause as anything that ever came
from his pen. In days like those, it is no mean praise to say
that Henry Venn was second to none as a letter-writer. Com
pare the letters that he wrote after settling down in Huntingdon
shire, with the very best that Newton published, and I venture
to say boldly that no impartial judge would hesitate to pro
nounce that the epistolary mine at Yelling yielded quite as rich
metal as that at Olney.
It is curious, indeed, to observe how free Venn's letters are,
comparatively, from the faults which impair the usefulness of
his books and printed sermons. There is a striking absence
of that stiff and laboured mode of expression to which I have
already adverted. He writes easily, naturally, and pleasantly,
and makes you feel that you would like to hear again from
such a correspondent. Like the letters of Mrs. Savage (Matthew
Henry's sister), you cannot help regretting that the editor made
so small and limited a selection from the stock he had in hand.
You close the volume with the impression that you would have
liked it better if it had been twice as long. For my own part,
I confess to a strong suspicion that we have in Venn's published
correspondence the real key of Venn's popularity as a preacher.
I suspect that his extempore sermons must have closely re
sembled his letters. I give it, of course, as my own private
conjecture, and nothing more. All I say is, that if the vicar
of Huddersfield preached in his pulpit in the same clear, pithy,
and direct fashion that he wrote to his friends, I do not won
der that he was a preacher of mighty power. Once more, I
advise those who want to know the secret of Venn's reputation
to study his letters.
It only remains for me now to point out what seem to me to

292 HIS SOUNDNESS OF JUDGMENT.
have been the prominent features in Henry Venn's character.
I approach this subject with much diffidence. I have no other
means of forming an opinion than a close examination of my
hero's life and letters. I am very sensible that I may err in my
judgment, and may say too much of some points and too little
of others. But after dwelling so much on this good man's life
and ministry, I cannot help inviting the attention of my readers
to some characteristics which appear to me to stand out with
peculiar brightness, as we look at him from a distance.
i. The first excellency that I notice in Venn's character is
the soundness of his judgment on difficult and disputable points in
theology. He lived in a day when the controversy between Cal
vinism and Arminianism was at its height, and when violent and
exaggerated statements were continually made on both sides.
In a day like this, he seems to me to have been singularly
happy in observing the proportion of truth in doctrine. I can
put my finger on no leading minister of last century whose
views of the gospel appear to have been so truly scriptural and
well balanced. Of course he was alternately claimed as an ally,
or abused as an enemy, by extreme partisans on both sides.
But I can find no man of that era who seems to have under
stood so thoroughly the relative value of every part and portion
of evangelical Christianity.
Let us hear what he says about Calvinism : " As to Calvin
ism, you know I am moderate. Those who exalt the Lord
Jesus as all their salvation, and abase man, I rejoice in. I
would not have them advance further till they see more of the
plan of sovereign grace, so connected with what is indisputable,
that they cannot refuse their assent. Difficulties, distressing
difficulties, are on every side, whether we receive that scheme
or no. We must be as little children ; we must be daily exer
cising ourselves in humble love and prayer ; we must be look
ing up to our Saviour for the Holy Ghost. And after this has
been our employment for many years, we shall find how much

THE DOCTRINE OF ASSURANCE. 293
truth there is in that divine assertion, ' If any man think that
he knoweth anything yet as he ought to know, that man know
eth nothing.' I used to please myself with the imagination, fif
teen years ago, that by prayer for the Holy Ghost, and reading
diligently the lively oracles, I should be able to understand all
Scripture, and to give it all one clear and consistent meaning.
That it is perfectly consistent I am very sure ; but it is not so
to any mortal's apprehension here. We are so proud, that we
must have something to humble us ; and this is one means to
that end." — (15//2 Feb. 1772.)
Let us hear what he says about assurance : " I believe that
the knowledge of our acceptance with God is to be constantly
urged as one of the greatest motives to lead a strict life, and to
abstain from all appearance of evil, seeing the Holy Ghost,
whose testimony alone can satisfy the conscience, will never
dwell with the slothful or lukewarm, much less with presumptu
ous offenders. Scripturally to state, and firmly to maintain by
sound argument, the knowledge of salvation, is, I believe,
a most useful way of preaching — guarding against hypocrites,
who will sometimes speak great swelling words about these
matters, though themselves the servants of corruption, and con
scious of the lie they tell in speaking of their joy in the Lord.
I judge that one great reason of the worldliness prevailing
amongst orthodox Dissenters is their teachers not pressing this
point ; and that, amidst very much error, one great cause of
Mr. Wesley's success, some years ago, was his urging Chris
tians not to rest without joy in God from receiving the atone
ment."— (1775.)
Let us hear what he says about holiness : " True holiness
is quite of another character than we, for a long time, in any
degree conceive. It is not serving God without defect, but
with deep self-abasement, with astonishment at his infinite con
descension and love to sinners, to ungodly enemies, and to men
who in their lost estate are exceedingly vile. It is pleasing to

294 ON WEAK FAITH.
consider how we are all led into this point, however we may
differ in others ; and were it not for the demon of controversy,
and a hurry of employment which leaves no time for self-know
ledge or devout meditation on the oracles of God, I am per
suaded we should very soon be so grounded on this matter,
that bystanders would no longer reproach us for our divisions."
—(1776.) Let us hear what he says about weak faith : " Weak faith
seeks salvation only in Christ, and yields subjection to him,
and brings the soul to his feet, though without assurance of
being as yet saved by him. There is not one duty a weak
believer slights. Weak faith is attended with sorrow and humili
ation ; as in his case he said with tears, ' Lord, I believe ;
help thou mine unbelief.' It produces new desires and affec
tions, new principles and purposes, and a new practice, though
not in such strength and vigour as is found in old established
believers. Ask the weakest and most disconsolate believer,
whether he would forsake and give up his hope in Christ ; and
he will eagerly reply, 'Not for the whole world!' There is,
therefore, no reason why weak believers should conclude against
themselves ; for weak faith unites as really with Christ as strong
faith, just as the least bud in the vine draws sap and life from
the root no less than the strongest branch. Weak believers,
therefore, have abundant cause to be thankful ; and while they
reach after growth in grace, ought not to overlook what they
have already received." — (1784-)
Hear, lastly, what he says about indwelling sin : — " I sympa
thize with you in your troubles from the corruption of nature.
I feel myself harassed with hardness of heart and coldness of
affection toward God and man, and by slightly performing
secret duties, when I know so well that God is ' a rewarder
(only) of those who diligently seek him.' How totally does the
estimate I made of myself thirty-five years ago differ from what
I know now to be my real condition ! I then confidently

HIS WISDOM AND GOOD SENSE. 295
expected to be holy very soon, even as St. Paul was ; and then
there would be no other difference here between me and angels
than that I, by watching, fasting, and praying without ceasing,
had conquered and eradicated sin, which they had never even
known. Now, when I compare myself with the great apostle,
I can scarcely perceive a diminutive feature or two of what
shines so prominently in that noble saint." — (1787.)
2. The second excellency that I notice in Venn is his singular
ivisdom and good sense in offering advice to others about duties.
This is a rare qualification. I sometimes think it is almost
easier to find a man of grace than a man of sense. How few
are the people to whom we can turn for counsel on practical
questions in religion, and feel a confidence that they will advise
us well ! The vicar of Huddersfield appears to me to have
possessed the spirit of counsel and of a sound mind in an emi
nent degree. His letters to Jonathan Scott, John Brasier, and
Lady Mary Fitzgerald, containing directions for living a Chris
tian life, and a solution of doubts and fears, ought to be read
in their entirety to be fully appreciated. They are so thoroughly
good all the way through that it is not fair to quote from them.
I know nothing in the English language, of a short kind, so
likely to be useful to those who are beginning a Christian life.
His letter to a clergyman on the study of Hebrew and the value
of translations of the Bible, is a model of sensible advice, and
furnishes abundant proof that evangelical clergymen of the last
century were not, as their enemies often insinuated, "unlearned
and ignorant men." Last, but not least, his letters to his son
and other clergymen on the ministerial office and its duties and
trials, and the mistakes of young ministers, are a magazine, of
Christian wisdom which will amply repay examination. Indeed,
there are few books which I would so strongly recommend to
the attention of young clergymen as " Venn's Life and Letters."
The truth is, the whole volume is full of strong Christian good
sense, and it is difficult, in giving selections from it, to know

2 96 EXTRACTS FROM HIS LIFE AND LETTERS.
where to begin and where to stop. The following quotations
must suffice.
To a friend at Huddersfield he says, in 1763 : — "The first
thing I would press upon you is to beg of God more light.
There is not a more false maxim than this, though common in
almost every mouth, that ' Men know enough if they would
but practice better.' God says, on the contrary, ' My people
are destroyed for lack of knowledge.' And as at first men live
in sin easy and well pleased, because they know not what they
do ; so after they are alive and awake they do little for God,
and gain little victory over sin, through the ignorance that is in
them. They have no comfort, no establishment, no certainty
that they are in the right path, even when they are going to
God, because the eyes of their understanding are so little
enlightened to discern the things that make for their peace.
In all your prayers, therefore, call much upon God for divine
teaching." To a rich widow residing in London he says : — " In the day
when the eternal state of man is determined, the greater part of
those that are lost will perish, not through any gross and scan
dalous iniquity, but through a deadness to God and his love, an
ignorance of their own sinfulness, and, in consequence of that,
through reigning pride and self-sufficiency. Now, the one
great source of all this miserable disorder, or that at least by
which it is maintained and strengthened, is keeping much com
pany with those whom the Scripture marks out as engaged in
talk without sense — company, not with near relatives or chosen
friends, not with those for whom we have any real regard, but
with those who come to see us and we go to see them, only
because the providence of God has brought us into one town.
It is this that devours infinitely precious time, and engages us
in mere trifling, when we otherwise should be drawing nigh to
God and growing rich in divine knowledge and grace ; and
such slaves are we naturally to the love of esteem, so eagerly

ON THE DUTY OF PARENTS. 297
desirous of having every one's good word, that we are content
to go on in the circle of fashionable folly, while our hearts con
demn us, and a secret voice whispers, ' This manner of spend
ing time can never be right' "
To the same lady he says : — " You certainly judge right not
to restrain your son from balls, cards, &c, since a mother will
never be judged, by a son of his age, capable of determining for
him; and perhaps, after your most strict injunctions to have
done with such sinful vanities, he would be tempted even to
violate your authority. The duty you are called of God to
exercise now is to bear the cross borne at different times and
in divers measures by all the disciples of a crucified Saviour.
True, it is painful to see one's dear child a lover of pleasure
more than of God — painful to see a young creature, born for
communion with God and acquaintance with heavenly joys,
wedded to trivial gratifications and the objects of sense alone.
But such are we ! God prevented us with his goodness, and
sounded an alarm in our souls, or we had been such to this
hour. He expects, then, that your experience should teach
you to wait for patience till mercy apprehend him also.
From the whole, you see you are to learn two most important
lessons from the painful situation you remain in with regard to
your son. The one is, your own weakness and inability to give
a single ray of light, or to excite the faintest conviction of sin, or
to communicate the least particle of spiritual good, to one who
is dearer to you than life. How ought this to take away every
proud thought of our own sufficiency, and to keep us earnest
importunate suppliants at the door of Almighty mercy and free
grace ! The other lesson is, that your own conversion, and
reception of the Lord Jesus Christ as your portion and
righteousness, ought to be marvellous in your eyes. You have
many kind thoughts and the highest esteem for me, for which I
desire to retain a dear sense in my mind ; but you know I am
merely a voice which said, ' Behold the Lamb of God !' "

29° HIS PRUDENT MANAGEMENT.
3. The third excellency which strikes me in Venn's character
is his singular prudence and tenderness in the management of his
children. Few ministers, perhaps, have ever been more success
ful than he was in the education and training of his family ;
few, perhaps, ever trained their sons and daughters with such
unwearying pains, diligence, affection, watchfulness, and prayer.
The families of pious ministers, like the sons of Samuel and
David, have often brought discredit on their father's house ; or,
like the children of Moses, have not been in any way remark
able. The family of Henry Venn forms a bright exception.
All turned out well ; all proved Christians of no common
degree ; and all gladdened their father's heart in his old age.
It would be impossible, in the narrow limits of this work,
to give any adequate idea of Venn's dealing with his children.
Those who feel an interest in the subject, and would like to
know a most successful parent's mode of communication with
his children, would do well to study the hundred pages of
letters to his children which are to be found in the volume of
his life and letters. Rarely indeed does a father succeed in
uniting faithfulness, spirituality, and deep familiar affection so
completely, in his correspondence with sons and daughters, as
Henry Venn did. I can only find room for three specimens.
To his daughter Catherine he says, in 1781, writing on the
due observance of the Sabbath : — " When I was of your age, I
was, alas ! a mere pretender to religion. Though I constantly
went to the house of God on the Sabbath, I saw not the glory
of the Lord — I understood not his Word — I did not hear it
when it was read — I asked for nothing — I wanted nothing for
my soul, — so foolish and ignorant was I ! I was glad when the
worship was over and the day was over, that my mouth might
pour out foolishness, and that I might return to my sports and
amusements. Oh, what a wicked stupidity of soul ! I am
astonished how God could bear with me. Had he said : ' I
swear thou shalt never ascend into the hill of the Lord, nor see

OF HIS CHILDREN. 299
my face, who findest it such a weariness to be at church, and
art so proud and profane in spirit. No : dwell for ever with
those whom you are like ; dwell with the devil and his angels,
and with all who have departed this life enemies to my name
and glory.' Oh ! had the Lord spoken thus to me in dis
pleasure, I had received the due reward of my deeds. But
adore him for his love to your father. In this state he opened
my eyes and allured my heart, and gave me to seek him and
his strength and face, and to join all his saints who keep holy
his day, and to be glad to hear them- say, ' Come, and let us go
up to the house of the Lord.' Nay, more than this, he gave
me your blessed mother for a companion, who loved exceedingly
the house and day of the Lord ; and repaired to you and me
her loss, by giving me another of his dear children who sancti
fies each Sabbath with delight, and reverences God's house
with her whole heart. Thus, instead of casting me into hell,
he has made me the father of one dear saint in glory, and of
four more — all of whom, I trust, fear and love the God of their
father and mother, and all of whom, I have a lively hope, I
shall meet in the courts above."
To his daughter Jane he writes, in 1785 : — " A great part of
our warfare is to overcome our natural propensity to seek
happiness in meat and drink, in dress and show ; which only
nourish our disease, and keep us from communion with God as
our chief good. More than thirty-seven years ago he was
pleased, in his adorable mercy, to give me a demonstration
that all was vanity and vexation of spirit but himself. From
that hour (such is the energy of divine teaching), rising up and
lying down, going out and coming in, I have felt this truth. I
began and continued to seek the Lord and his strength and
his face evermore. I was then led to know how the poverty
and emptiness of all terrestrial good could be well supplied
from the fulness of an adorable Jesus. And, oh ! how unspeak
ably blessed I am that I see my children impressed with the

3°° ADVICE TO HIS SON.
same precious and invaluable feelings, and that I hope, upon
the best grounds, that we shall enjoy an eternity together in
glory, where you shall know your father, not the poor, polluted,
hasty, sinful creature he now is, but holy, without spot, wrinkle,
or any such thing ; and when I shall know my dear children,
not as emerging from a sea of corruption, and struggling against
the law of sin in their members, and needing frequent intima
tions to do what is right, but when naturally and continually
all within and without will be perfectly holy. Oh ! what a
meeting will that be, when all my prayers for your precious
souls ever since you were born, when all my poor yet well-
meant instructions and lessons from God's Word, and all your
own petitions, shall be fully answered, and we shall dwell in a
perfect union together !"
To his son John, on his appointment to the rectory of
Clapham, he writes, in 1792 : — "Children, the old adage says,
are careful comforts. I find the truth of this now, particularly
respecting you. I was careful to see you called out to useful
ness ; and now providentially a great door is found, I am in
daily concern lest you should be hurt and suffer loss in your
new station. You must beware of company ; you must be
much in secret and retirement. Visiting friends, and being
seldom in a solemn spirit before the throne of grace, ruin most
of those who perish among professors of godliness."
The following facts, communicated to me by a connection of
Henry Venn's, are in themselves so deeply interesting, and
throw so much light on his mode of dealing with little children,
that I make no apology for introducing them here. It appears
that one of his daughters married a widower with a family of
young children. These motherless little ones excited a strong
interest in his heart, and he took one of them, only three years
old, to his home at Yelling, and endeavoured to train the child
for God. My correspondent says : —
" The first thing he found out was that the poor child was

FRUIT OF BIBLE STORIES. 301
afraid of the dark. That very evening he took him by the
hand, led him into his study, where the shutters were already
closed, and seating him on his knee, with his arm close round
him, he told the timid boy so wonderful a story out of God's
Book as to make the child forget all beside. This he repeated
day by day, till the evening story came to be anxiously expected.
' You will sit by my side to-day, John, and hold my hands,
while you hear a new Bible story,' said the venerable man,
after many a story had been told on the knee ; ' and to-morrow
you will like to sit by me without holding my hands, will you
not?' This point once gained, a seat at a little distance was
chosen, still in the dark ; then one opposite ; then one at the
furthest end of the study ; till, before winter closed, my father
had entirely forgotten his fears of the dark, nor did they at any
period of his life ever recur to him.''
The advice given by this more than grandfather to the child,
when he left Yelling for school, was often quoted ; and though
for a time he threw off the restraints of religion, and sought
happiness in the world, the closing words of his venerable friend
were never forgotten, and in after-life were repeated to his
children and grandchildren scores if not hundreds of times :
" Remember, little John, if anything could make heaven not
heaven to me, it would be the not having you with me there."
God's blessing did follow that Christian teaching ; and after
a long life spent, first in actively doing, and then in suffering,
his Father's will, that "Little John" rejoined his loved and
honoured teacher in the skies, frequently saying, " When I get
to heaven, how I shall bless God for the early lesson of dear
old Henry Venn !"
4. The fourth excellency that I notice in Venn is his singular
unworldliness and cheerfulness of spirit. He had his share of
worldly trials ; and these, too, of all sorts and descriptions.
Sickness and severe bodily trials — the loss of his wife in the
middle of his abundant labours at Huddersfield — straitened

302 HIS UNWORLDLINESS AND CHEERFULNESS.
circumstances, arising out of the extreme scantiness of his
professional income, — all these things broke in upon him from
time to time, and sorely tried his faith. But he seems to have
been wonderfully strengthened throughout all his troubles. He
preserved a cheerful frame of mind under every cross and trial,
and was always able to see blue sky even in the gloomiest day.
His very portrait gives one the impression of a happy Chris
tian. As we look at it, we can well understand the story that
on more than one occasion he was asked to preach by clergy
men who did not know him, under the idea that he was a jolly
parson of the old school, and not a Methodist preacher ! *
They judged of him by his smiling face, and could not imagine
that the man who had such a countenance could be the friend
of Whitefield, Berridge, and Wesley. Striking, indeed, is the
lesson that the incident contains. Well would it be for the
Church of Christ if all preachers of the gospel were more care
ful to recommend their principles by their demeanour, and to
show by their bearing that their Master's service is truly happy.
One single extract from his correspondence will suffice to
show the vicar of Huddersfield's unworldly spirit. He heard
that a lady, who knew and valued him, had made a will,
leaving him a large sum of money. He at once wrote her a
letter, positively declining to accept it, of which the following
extract is a part : " I understand by my wife your most kind
and generous intention toward me in your will. The legacy
would be exceedingly acceptable ; and I can assure you the
person from whom it would come would greatly enhance the
benefit. I love my sweet children as much as is lawful ; and
as I know it would give you pleasure to administer to the
comfort of me and mine, I should with greater joy accept of
your liberality.
" But an insurmountable bar stands in the way — the love of
* All Evangelical clergymen a hundred years ago were called "Methodists." Many
people in the present day are not aware of this fact

HIS CATHOLICITY. 303
Him to whom we are both indebted, not for a transient benefit,
for silver or gold, but, for an 'inheritance incorruptible, unde
filed, and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for you.'
His honour, his cause, is, and must be, dearer to his people
than wife, children, or life itself. It is the pious resolve of his
saints, ' I count all things but loss for the excellency of the
knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.' To be, therefore, a
stumbling-block in the way of any that are seeking him, to give
the least countenance to any that would gladly bring his
followers into contempt, would grieve me while in health,
darken my mind in sickness, and load me with self-condemna
tion on my death-bed. After the most mature deliberation,
therefore, it is our request that you will not leave us any other
token of your regard than something of little value."
5. The last excellency that I note in Henry Venn is his
extraordinary catholicity and kindliness of spirit, and his readiness
to love and honour his brethren. Jealousy among ministers of
Christ is, unhappily, a very common feeling. Nowhere, per
haps, will you find men so slow to recognize the gifts of others,
and so quick to detect their faults, as in the ranks of preachers
of religion. Of all the men of last century who attained
eminent usefulness, I find none so free from jealousy as Henry
Venn. He seems to delight in speaking well of his fellow-
labourers, and to rejoice in their gifts and success.
It would be taking up too much room to quote all the
expressions he uses about his contemporaries. Let it suffice to
say that I find in his " Life " repeated kind words about the
following men,- — Whitefield, Wesley, Grimshaw, Romaine,
Walker, Conyers, Hervey, Howell Harris, Berridge, Fletcher,
Robinson, Newton, Adams, Cecil, Scott, and Abraham Booth
the Baptist. That list alone is enough to show the largeness
and warmth of Venn's heart. To suppose that he agreed with
all these good men in all things, is simply unreasonable. But
he had a quick eye to see grace, and a ready mind to acknow-

3°4 TESTIMONY OF CHARLES SIMEON.
ledge and admire it. Well would it be for the Church of
Christ, if all ministers were more of his frame and spirit in this
matter ! Envy and jealousy are too often the greatest blots on
the character of great men.
It only remains for me, now, to conclude my account of
Henry Venn by quoting the language used about him by three
good judges, though very different men.
Let us hear what Cowper the poet thought of him. He says,
in a letter to Newton, written in 1791 : "I am sorry that Mr.
Venn's labours below are so near to a conclusion. I have seen
few men whom I could have loved more, had opportunity been
given me to know him better ; so at least I have thought as
often as I have seen him."
Let us hear what Charles Simeon of Cambridge thought of
him. He says : " I most gladly bear my testimony that not
the half, nor the hundredth part, of what might have been justly
said of that blessed man of God has been spoken. If any
person now living, except his children, is qualified to bear this
testimony, it is I, who, from my first entrance into orders to
his dying hour, had most intimate access to him, and enjoyed
most of his company and conversation. How great a blessing
his conversation and example have been to me will never be
known till the day of judgment. I dislike the language of
panegyric, and therefore forbear to expatiate on a character
which, in my estimation, was above all praise. Scarcely ever
did I visit him but he prayed with me, at noon-day, as well as
at common seasons of family-worship. Scarcely ever did I
dine with him but his ardour in returning thanks, sometimes in
an appropriate hymn, sometimes in prayer, has inflamed the
souls of all present. In all the twenty-four years that I knew
him, I never remember him to have spoken unkindly of any
one but once ; and then I was struck with the humiliation he
expressed for it in prayer next day."
Let us hear, lastly, what Sir James Stephen thought of Henry

TESTIMONY OF SIR JAMES STEPHEN. 305
Venn. In his "Essays on Ecclesiastical Biography" (amidst
some things I cannot subscribe to), he concludes his account
of the vicar of Huddersfield and Yelling with the following
passage: "With a well-stored memory, he was an independent,
if not an original, thinker. With deep and even vehement
attachments, he knew how to maintain, on fit occasions, even
to those he loved most, a judicial gravity, and even a judicial
sternness. He acted with indefatigable energy in the throng of
men, and yet in solitude could meditate with unwearied per
severance. He was at once a preacher at whose voice multi
tudes wept and trembled, and a companion to whose privacy
the wise resorted for instruction, the wretched for comfort, and
all for sympathy. In all the exigencies, and in all relations of
life, the firmest reliance might always be placed on his counsel,
his support, and his example. Like St. Paul, he became all
things to all men, and for the same reason, that he might by
any means save some."
Such was the last of the seven great spiritual heroes of the
last century. I have dwelt long on his history, but I feel that
he deserves it. He was not the commanding preacher that
either Whitefield or Rowlands was. He did not possess the
polish of Romaine, or the originality of Grimshaw or Berridge.
But, take him for all in all, Henry Venn was a great man.

(195) 20

Walker of Craro mib {its Iphrtsirg.
Born at Exeter, 1714 — Educated at Exeter College, Oxford — Ordained, 1737 — Curate of
Truro, 1746 — At First very ignorant of the Gospel — Mr. Conon's Influence — Effect of
his Preaching — Opposition — Self-denial and Holy Life — Remarkable Effect on Soldiers
¦ — Private Unity Meetings — Died, 1761 — Literary Remains — Preaching.
|N intelligent Christian needs not to be reminded that
.the Church of Christ has always recognized two
classes of prophetical writers in the Old Testament.
There are four who are called "the greater" prophets, and
twelve who are called "the less." All wrote by direct and
equal inspiration of God ; " all spake as they were moved by
the Holy Ghost ; " and yet we do not hesitate to assign a
higher importance to one class than to the other.
A well-informed man knows well, that in the solar system
some planets exceed others in size and glory. All are bright,
and beautiful, and perfect. All proclaim to the student of the
heavens that the Hand which made them was divine. Yet the
glory of such bodies as Jupiter and Saturn is far greater than
that of Mars, or Venus, or the Moon.
Thoughts such as these come across my mind as I turn from
the seven leading champions of the revival of English religion
in the last century to some of their lesser contemporaries.
There were not a few eminent ministers in our country who
were entirely of one mind with Whitefield and his fellow-
workers, and yet never attained to their greatness. They
sympathized with the great leaders in all matters of doctrine.

GIFTS OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 307
They co-operated with them in the main, and rejoiced in their
success. They cheerfully bore their share of the reproach cast
on " Methodism " or evangelical religion. They shrank from
no sacrifices, and spared no pains in setting forward Christ's
gospel. But they did not possess the extraordinary public
gifts of their seven brethren, and did not therefore leave so
deep a mark on their generation. Like Silas and Timotheus
in St. Paul's days, they did good work in their own positions ;
but not work that attracted so much public attention as that
of the mighty " masters of assemblies " whom I have described
in preceding chapters.
But we must beware that we do not undervalue men merely
because they do not occupy prominent positions in the Church
of Christ. Various and manifold are the gifts of the Holy
Ghost, and he divides them to every man severally as he thinks
fit. One minister is called to preach to thousands, and shake
the world like a " son of thunder ; " while another is called to
write hymns or compose books in an obscure corner of the
earth. One man has gifts of voice, and delivery, and action,
and fluency, and memory, and invention, which fit him to stand
up before multitudes — like Paul on Mars' Hill, or Luther at
Worms, or Whitefield in Moorfields — and to carry all before
him. Another is shy, and gentle, and retiring, and can only
make his mind work in solitude, quiet, and silence. Yet each
may be an instrument of mighty influence in God's hand. The
last day, indeed, may prove that the work of him whose voice
was never " heard in the street," and who dwelt among his own
people, produced more permanent effect on souls than the
most brilliant open-air sermons. I fear that we are all apt to
exaggerate the value of public gifts, and to depreciate gifts
which make no show before the world. Yet a time may come
when the last shall be found first, and the first last.
Remembering these things, I wish to give some account of
four men of the last century who are far less known than some

3°8 BIRTH OF SAMUEL WALKER.
of their contemporaries, and yet were eminently useful in their
day and generation. The first whom I will introduce to my
readers is Samuel Walker, the curate of Truro, in Cornwall.
Walker was born at Exeter in 17 14, and died in 1761, at the
early age of forty-seven. Partly from the circumstance that his
ministerial life was entirely spent in one of the most remote
corners of England, before railways were invented, and partly
from his habits of mind, which made him entirely decline all
public work of an aggressive and extra-parochial kind, he is a
man whose name is scarcely known to many Christians. Yet
he was one who, in his day, was most highly esteemed by such
men as Wesley, Whitefield, Romaine, and Venn, for his emi
nent spirituality and soundness of judgment. Above all, he
was one who cultivated his own corner of the Lord's vineyard
with such singular success, that there were few places in Eng
land where such striking results could be shown from preaching
the gospel as at Truro.
The facts of Walker's life of which any record remains are
few, and soon told. His family resided at Exeter, and was
well connected. He was lineally descended from the good
Bishop Hall, who was for a time Bishop of Exeter, and whose
grand-daughter married a Walker. His grandfather, Sir Thomas
Walker, was member of Parliament for Exeter. John Walker,
Rector of St. Mary the More, in Exeter, who wrote a well-
known volume about the "Sufferings of the Ejected Clergy"
under the Commonwealth, was also a relative of the subject of
this chapter ; in fact, the first edition of the work was published
in the very year that Samuel Walker was born.
We know little of Walker's boyhood and youth, beyond the
fact that he was educated at Exeter Grammar School, and was
there for ten years — from the age of eight till he was eighteen.
He went to Exeter College, Oxford, in 1732, and in due course
of time took his degree of B.A. in that university. He seems
to have made good use of his time while he was at college, and

EDUCATED AT EXETER COLLEGE. 309
to have acquired much knowledge, which he found valuable in
after-life. His biographer particularly mentions that " he culti
vated logic with much success, and always considered his early
devotion to that science as the foundation of the facility he
afterwards attained in a clear and methodical arrangement of
his ideas. When complimented by his friends, who admired
the lucid and argumentative mode in which he treated every
subject, he always observed that logic had been his favourite
pursuit in youth, and that he recommended it to young divines."
Beside being a reading man, he seems to have been thoroughly
correct and moral in life ; and though utterly destitute of spirit
ual light or religion, he was mercifully preserved from the
excesses into which many young men plunge at college, to
their own subsequent bitter sorrow. We know nothing more
of Walker's university life. We have no account of his com
panions, friends, or acquaintances. It is a curious fact, how
ever, that it is clear, from a comparison of dates, that he must
have been an undergraduate of Exeter College at the very time
when the so-called Methodist movement began, and when
Wesley, Whitefield, and Hervey were commencing their line of
action as aggressive evangelists at Oxford. It is another
curious fact that Lincoln College, of which John Wesley was a
Resident Fellow, stands within fifty yards of Exeter College.
Romaine also was at Christ Church at the same time. But
there is not the slightest proof that Walker was acquainted
with any of these good men.
Walker entered the ministry at the age of twenty-three, in
the year 1737. He was first curate of Dodescomb Leigh, near
Exeter, but only remained there one year. He then travelled
on the Continent for two years, in the capacity of private tutor
to the younger brother of Lord Rolle. On the termination of
this engagement he became first curate, and immediately after
vicar, of Lanlivery, near Lostwithiel, in Cornwall. He only
held this living during the minority of a nephew of the patron,

310 BECOMES CURATE OF TRURO.
and finally resigned it in the year 1746. He then accepted
the office of stipendiary curate of Truro, in Cornwall, and
occupied that position for fifteen years, until the time of his
death in 1761.
It is past all doubt that Walker was profoundly ignorant of
spiritual religion at the time of his ordination. Like hundreds
of clergymen, he undertook an office for which he was certainly
not " inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost," and professed him
self a teacher of others while he himself knew nothing of the
truth as it is in Jesus. He says, in a letter dated 1756: "The
week before my ordination I spent with the other candidates
— as dissolute, I fear, as myself — in a very light and unbecom
ing manner; dining, supping, drinking, and laughing together,
when, God knows, we should all have been on our knees, and
warning each other to fear for our souls in the view of what we
were about to put our hands to. I cannot but attribute the
many careless, ungodly years I spent in pleasure after that time
to this profane introduction ; and, believe me, the review shocks
me. While I write, I tremble in the recollection of the wounds
I then gave Jesus."
In this painful and unsatisfactory state of mind Walker spent
the first two years of his ministerial life. Throughout that time
he was diligent and conscientious in the discharge of the
outward duties of his office. He preached, visited, catechised,
reproved, exhorted, and rebuked, but did no good at all.
Ignorant alike of his own heart's disease and of the glorious
remedy provided by Christ's gospel, he laboured entirely in vain.
In fact, he said himself, in after-years, " that though he was well
thought of, and, indeed, esteemed beyond most of his brethren
for regularity, decency, and endeavour to keep up external
attendance, and even for his public addresses, yet he felt he
ought to go sorrowing to the grave, upon a review of the years
so misspent."
The circumstances under which a complete change came

AC CO UNT OF HIS CONVERSION. 3 1 1
over Walker's heart, character, and ministerial life, were very-
remarkable. They supply a most instructive illustration of
God's plan of leading people to Christ by ways " which they
know not." Walker had come to Truro in 1746, with peculiar
pleasure, on account of the notorious gaieties and festivities of
the place, in which the young curate at that time took great
delight. He entered the place a dancing, card-playing, party-
going clergyman, and was known only in that character for the
first twelve months of his ministry. It is said that at this period
" his only ambition was to be courted for his gaiety and admired
for his eloquence, and to become the reformer of the vicious by
the power of persuasion and example." Ignorant he was not
altogether, for, like every well-read man, he had historical no
tions of the leading doctrines of the Christian religion. But, to
use his own words, " what he knew notionally, he neither felt
nor sought practically." He acknowledges that, even in the
midst of all his official decorum, he " was actuated by two hid
den principles, as contrary to God as darkness is to light — a
desire of reputation and a love of pleasure." Such were the
beginnings of Walker's ministry ! Such was the unpromising
material which God was pleased to take in hand, and mould and
fashion into a goodly vessel of grace !
The manner of Walker's conversion is thus described by one
of his biographers. " He had been at least a year in his curacy
at Truro before he fell under any suspicion or uneasiness about
himself or his preaching. The first impression that he was in
error arose from a conversation between himself and a few of
his parishioners on the subject of justifying and saving faith, to
which he was judiciously led by a pious individual. This was a
Mr. Conon, master of the Grammar School at Truro, who, he
often said, was the first person he had ever met truly possessed
of the mind of Christ, and by whose means he became sensible
that all was wrong within and without." Mr. Conon was one
of those rare servants of God who, like Job, are found in places

312 PREACHES THE GOSPEL.
where you would think no good thing could grow, and who serve
to show that grace and not place makes the Christian. Inter
course between this good man and the curate of Truro gradually
ripened into intimacy, and the result was the total conversion of
the minister through the pious instrumentality of one of his
hearers. The change that had come over the curate of Truro was soon
apparent, both in his preaching and practice. It could not be
hid. He ceased to take part in the frivolous worldly amuse
ments which at one time absorbed his attention. He frankly
acknowledges that he did not take up this new line of action
without a mighty inward struggle, and that it was " long before
he could bring himself to any reasonable measure of indifference
about the esteem of the world, and then only with heart-felt
pangs of fear and disquietude." But he fought hard, and by
God's grace was more than conqueror. At the same time, says
his biographer, " he began to preach as he felt, declared the
alteration in his views, and faithfully pointed out the evil of the
empty pleasures in which the inhabitants of his parish were
absorbed, and the danger of resting on the mere formalities of
Sabbath worship for salvation. Repentance, faith, and the new
birth became the topics of his sermons — truths which, though
treated with all the power of his highly cultivated mind, brought
down on him hatred as an enthusiast, derision as a madman,
and vehement opposition as the destroyer of harmless joys. An
infidel went even so far as to insult him in the pulpit, an affront
which he bore with singular patience and dignity."
The effects of Walker's new style of preaching seem to have
been very deep and extraordinary. Astonishment and surprise
were the first prevailing feelings in the minds of all. To hear
their curate denouncing the very practices in which he had
lately indulged himself, and pressing home the very doctrines
which he had neglected or despised, was enough to make men's
hair stand on end ! Anger and irritation were naturally excited

EFFECT OF HIS PRE A CHING. 3 1 3
in the hearts of hundreds who loved pleasure more than God,
and were determined to cling to the world. But all alike seem
to have been thoroughly aroused and impressed. His biographer
says : " The earnestness of the preacher, and the striking altera
tion of his habits as well as of his sermons, stirred up the curio
sity of the people, who, while they were enraged at the fidelity,
were enchained by the eloquence and trembled at the sternness
of their reprover. Even out of the pulpit they feared the pre
sence of their minister. The Sabbath loiterers would retire at
his approach, saying, ' Let us go ; here comes Walker.' His
manner is said to have been commanding and solemn in the
extreme, and his life so truly consistent that at length he awed
into silence those who were at first most clamorous against
him. At last such crowds attended his ministry, that the
thoroughfares of the town seemed to be deserted during the
hours of service, so that it was said you might fire a cannon
down every street of Truro in church time, without a chance
of killing a single human being."
No well-informed Christian will be surprised to hear that a
man preaching and living as Walker did, was assailed by every
kind of persecution. The great enemy of souls will never allow
his kingdom to be pulled down without a struggle to preserve
it. If he cannot prevent a faithful minister working, he will
labour in every way to hinder and impede his work. The
worldly portion of the Truro people resolved to get rid of a
man who pricked their consciences and made them uncomfort
able. They first tried to injure the curate of Truro with the
bishop of the diocese ; but in this attempt, happily, they failed.
They then endeavoured to prevail on the rector of Truro to dis
miss him from his cure, a move which led to the following
remarkable result. His biographer says : " Mr. Walker's
enemies, being some of the wealthiest inhabitants of Truro,
found the rector only too willing to listen to their complaints,
and he promised that he would go to his curate and give him

3J4 THE CURATE AND THE RECTOR.
notice to quit his charge. He went ; but like the Gaul who was
sent to the Roman hero to despatch him in prison, he retired
startled and abashed at his lofty tone and high bearing. On
entering Walker's apartment, he was received with an elegance
and dignity of manner which were natural to one who had long
been the charm of society, and became so embarrassed as to be
perfectly unable to advert to his errand. He at length made
some remark which afforded an opportunity of speaking of the
ministerial office and character, which Walker immediately
embraced, and enlarged on the subject with such acuteness of
reasoning and solemnity of appeal to his rector, as a fellow-
labourer in the gospel, that he retreated overwhelmed with con
fusion, and unable to say a word about the intended dismissal.
He was in consequence reproached with a breach of his pro
mise, and went a second time to fulfil it. He again retreated
without daring to allude to the object ofhis visit. He was
pressed to go a third time by one of his principal parishioners,
but replied, ' Do you go and dismiss him, if you can ; I cannot.
I feel in his presence as if he were a being of superior order,
and I am so abashed that I am uneasy till I can retire.' A
short time after this the rector was taken ill, when he sent for
Mr. Walker, entreated his prayers, acknowledged the propriety
of his conduct, and promised him his hearty support if he re
covered." From, this time to the end of his ministry, no weapon
formed against the curate of Truro seemed to prosper. He
held on his way without let or hindrance, though not, of course,
without much hatred, opposition, and petty persecution. But
nothing that his opponents could do, or devise, was able to stop
or silence him. So true is that word of Scripture : " When a
man's ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be
at peace with him" (Prov. xvi. 7).
There can be no doubt that Walker's position at Truro was
greatly strengthened by his eminent holiness, self-denial, and
consistency of life. Whatever his enemies thought ofhis preach-

SELF-DENIAL AND HOL Y LIFE. 3 r 5
ing, they could not deny that he was a singularly holy man.
Like Daniel, they could find no fault in him except concerning
the law of his God. Two remarkable instances of his self-
denial and disinterestedness deserve special mention. One is
his voluntary resignation of the vicarage of Talland, to which he
had been appointed about the time of his coming to Truro, with
the bishop's license of non-residence. On becoming a con
verted man, his conscience told him that he ought not to receive
an income for which he discharged no ministerial duty. Acting
on this principle, he cheerfully gave up the preferment unasked
and unpersuaded, relinquished all his accustomed comforts, and
went into humble lodgings of the plainest kind. The other
instance is even more singular. He refused the opportunity of
marrying a lady eminently suited to be his wife, who would
have readily accepted his hand, on the sole ground that she had
too much fortune. To a friend who seriously advised him to
propose to her, he made the following remarkable reply • " I cer
tainly never saw a woman whom I thought comparable to Miss
 , and I believe I should enjoy as much happiness in union
with her as it is possible to enjoy in this world. I have reason
also to think that she would not reject my suit. Still it must
never be ! What would the world say of me 1 Would not they
imagine that the hope of obtaining such a prize influenced my
profession of religion ? It is easy, they would say, to preach
self-denial and heavenly-mindedness, but has not the preacher
taken care to get as much of this world's good as he could
possibly obtain 1 It must never be ! I can never suffer any
temporal happiness or advantage to be a hindrance to my use
fulness." Conscientiousness like this is certainly very rare, and
to many persons may seem totally incomprehensible and absurd.
Whether, also, in Walker's behaviour to the lady, there
was not something of morbid scrupulosity, and whether a happy
marriage might not have lengthened his life and usefulness, are
questions which admit of doubt. But there is no denying that

3 1 6 RESUL TS OF HIS MINIS TR Y.
not a few evangelical ministers have withered their own useful
ness by marrying wealthy wives. And one thing is very certain,
that Walker's character for eminent disinterestedness and un
worldliness became so thoroughly established, that in this
material point the breath of slander never touched him to the
very end of his days.
The direct visible effects of Walker's ministry at Truro were
very remarkable and extensive. Worldliness and wickedness
were checked to an extraordinary extent, and even those who
loved sin were ashamed to commit it so openly as they had
done in time past. Not long after he began to preach the real
gospel and to call men to repentance, the theatre and cockpit
in the town were both forsaken, and given up to other pur
poses ; and similar reforms extended to places in the neighbour
hood through his instrumentality. The influence ofhis ministry,
in fact, was singularly felt by many who were never converted.
He said himself that he had reason to think almost all his
hearers at Truro were, at one time or other, awakened more or
less, " although I fear many of them have rejected the counsel
of God against themselves."
Of positive spiritual results in the saving of souls by any one's
ministry, a wise man will always speak cautiously. We see
through a glass darkly, and are easily deceived in such matters.
Yet I see every reason to believe that Walker's ministry at
Truro was really the means of turning hundreds from darkness
to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. It is a certain
fact that in 1754, after he had preached the gospel only seven
years at Truro, he recorded that no less than eight hundred
persons had made particular application to him, from time to
time, inquiring what they must do to be saved. Making every
allowance for many of this number who doubtless drew back
after their first convictions, and returned to their sins, this simple
fact ought to fill our minds with astonishment. The parish of
Truro, even at this day, does not contain more than ten thou-

REMARKABLE EFFECT ON SOLDIERS. 317
sand people. A hundred years ago it must have been a much
smaller place. The ministry which in seven years could arrest
the attention of eight hundred persons in such a parish, must
have been one of singular power, and singularly blessed of
God. One of the most interesting examples of his ministerial suc
cess was the extraordinary effect that he produced on a regi
ment of soldiers which was quartered in Truro in 1756. As
soon as they arrived, Walker set up a sermon for their special
benefit on Sunday afternoon, which was called " the soldiers'
sermon." After a little time the number of attendants became
very large ; and the mere fact that it was a voluntary service,
specially intended for soldiers, no doubt helped greatly to bring
hearers. The attention of the men was thoroughly arrested,
and within three weeks no less than a hundred of them came to
Walker's house, asking what they must do to be saved. He
himself says to a correspondent : " The effects of the soldiers'
sermon have been very striking. You would have seen their
countenances changing, tears often bursting from their eyes, and
confessions of their exceeding sinfulness and danger breaking
from their mouths. I have scarcely heard such a thing as self-
excusing from any of them ; while the desire to be instructed,
and uncommon thankfulness for any pains for them used by any
of us, have been very remarkable."
His biographer says : " Mr. Walker's exertions in the regi
ment at first met with great opposition. The commander
publicly forbade his men to go to him for private instruction,
though, at last, no less than two hundred and fifty of them
sought the persevering servant of Christ for that purpose.
Those also whom religion had separated from the sinful habits
and company of their unawakened comrades, were much
derided ; but grace enabled them to stand. A great alteration,
however, soon took place. Punishment diminished, and order
prevailed in the regiment, to a degree never before witnessed ;

3l8 AN AFFECTING FAREWELL.
and at length the commander discovered the excellent cause of
this salutary change. Genuine zeal had now its full triumph
and rich reward. The officers waited on Mr. Walker in a
body, to acknowledge the good effects of his wise and sedulous
exertions, and to thank him for the reformation he had pro
duced in their ranks."
" These interesting men left Truro after nine weeks' stay.
The parting scene was indescribably affecting. They assembled
the last evening in the society-room, to hear their beloved
minister's farewell prayer and exhortation. ' Had you,' said
Walker to a friend, ' but seen their countenances, what thank
fulness, love, sorrow, and joy sat upon them ! They hoped
they might bring forth some fruit ; they hoped to meet us again
at the right hand of Jesus at the great day.' It was an hour of
mingled distress and comfort ; the hearts of many were so full,
that they clasped the hand of the beloved instrument of their
conversion, and turned away without a word. They began
their morning march praising God for having brought them
under the sound of the gospel ; and as they slowly passed
along, turned round to catch occasional glimpses of the town,
as it gradually receded from their sight, exclaiming, ' God bless
Truro !' They saw their spiritual leader no more upon earth,
but were consoled by the hope of a triumphant meeting
amongst the armies of heaven."
One grand peculiarity of Walker's ministry at Truro was the
system of private meetings for mutual edification among the
spiritual members of his congregation, which he succeeded in
instituting. He seems to have been deeply impressed with the
necessity of following up the work done in the pulpit, and with
the desirableness of stirring up real Christians to be useful to
one another. There can be no doubt that he was right. ' Edify
one another,' is an apostolic principle far too much overlooked
(i Thess. v. ii). Most Christians are far too ready to leave
everything to be done by their minister, and forget that a

PRIVATE UNITY MEETINGS. 319
minister has only one body and one tongue, and cannot be
everywhere, and do everything. Above all, most Christians
forget that the mutual conference of believers is a valuable
means of grace, and that in trying to water others we are likely
to be watered ourselves. But the best and wisest manner of
conducting these meetings for mutual edification is a subject
of vast difficulty, and one on which good men differ widely.
Scores of excellent ministers have attempted to do something
in this direction, and have completely failed. It was precisely
here that Walker seems to have been eminently gifted, and to
have obtained extraordinary success.
My limited space makes it quite impossible to give a full
account of all the plans and arrangements that Walker made
for the conduct of these religious societies. Those who wish
to know more about them will find them fully described in
Sidney's " Life of Walker." One leading feature of his system
deserves, however, to be specially noticed : I mean his careful
classification of the members of his societies. He always
formed them into two divisions, one composed entirely of
men, into which no female was admitted ; the other of mar
ried men, their wives, and unmarried women, from which all
single men were excluded. The wisdom and good sense of
this classification will be obvious to every reflecting Christian.
It is the very neglect of it, however simple it may appear,
which has been the ruin of many similar private movements
among religious people. The rules drawn up for the manage
ment of meetings are marked throughout by like soundness of
judgment. The objects to be kept steadily in view — the admis
sion of members, the hours to be kept, the mode of proceeding,
the things to be habitually avoided by members — are all most
carefully defined, and give one a most favourable idea of
Walker's rare Christian good sense. I have only room to quote
two rules, which are a good specimen of the tone and spirit
running through all the regulations.

S20 RULES OF THE SOCIETY.
One rule is : " That every member of this Society do esteem
himself peculiarly obliged to live in an inoffensive and orderly
manner, to the glory of God and the edification of his neigh
bours ; that he study to advance, in himself and others, humility
and meekness, faith in Christ, love to God, gospel repentance,
and new obedience, in which things Christian edification con
sists, and not in vain janglings. And that in all his conversa
tion and articles of faith he stick close to the plain and divine
meaning of Holy Scripture, carefully avoiding all intricate niceties
and refinements upon it."
The other rule, or rather explanatory definition, is : " By a
disorderly carriage we mean not only the commission of gross
and scandalous sins, but also what are esteemed matters of
little moment in the eyes of the world, such as the light use of
the words, Lord, God, Jesus, &c, in ordinary conversation, which
we cannot but interpret as an evidence of the want of God's
presence in the heart ; the buying and selling of goods which
have not paid custom ; the doing needless work on the Lord's
day ; the frequenting ale-houses or taverns without necessary
business. And considering the consequence of vain amuse
ments so generally practised, we do, in charity to the souls of
others, as well as to avoid the danger of such things ourselves,
think ourselves obliged to use particular caution about many of
them, however innocent they may be in themselves, such as
cards, dancings, clubs for entertainments, play-houses, sports at
festivals and parish feasts, and as much as may be parish feasts
themselves, lest by joining therein we are a hindrance to our
selves and others." This is sound speech that cannot be con
demned. Regulations such as these need no comment What
ever objections may be made against private societies such as
Walker formed at Truro, as tending to create a church within a
church, one thing at least is sure — A system which produced
such a high standard of life and practice in the members of the
Society, deserves serious consideration.

HIS DEATH. 321
Walker's most useful career was brought to a termination in
the year 1761. tie died at the early age of forty-seven, of pul
monary consumption, accelerated, if not brought on, by his
over-abundant labours in the cause of Christ at Truro. It is
impossible to wonder at his breaking down at a comparatively
early age, when we consider the immense amount of ministerial
labour which he regularly carried on, single-handed and unas
sisted, for nearly fourteen years, in his large Cornish parish.
He says himself, in a letter dated 1755 : " My stated business
(beside the Sunday duty, prayers Wednesdays and Fridays,
burials, baptisms, and attendance on the sick) is, on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Fridays, to talk with such as apply to me in
private from six to ten in the evening ; Tuesday, to attend the
society ; and Thursday, a lecture in church in the evening.
Saturday, and as much of Friday as I can give, is bestowed in
preparing the Sunday's sermons. To all this must be added
what I may well call the care of the church, that is, of above a
hundred people, who, on one account and another, continually
need my direction. You will not wonder if my strength proves
unequal to this labour, and I find myself debilitated, and under
necessity of making my time shorter by lying in bed longer
than formerly. In short, what I am going through seems evi
dently to be hastening my end, though there be no immediate
danger." The plain truth is, that so far from wondering that
such a man died so soon, we should rather wonder that he
worked and lived so long.
He died at Blackheath, near London, after a long and suffer
ing illness of more than a year's duration, in which he received
every attention that could be bestowed on his poor earthly
tabernacle from the kindness of Lord Dartmouth. He died in
the full enjoyment of the peace he had so faithfully preached
to others, and his death-bed was without a cloud. He had
never married, and, like Berridge, had neither brother, sister,
nor near relative to stand by him as he went down into the
(195; 21

322 TOUCHING LETTER TO MR. CONON.
river. But he had that which is far better than earthly relatives,
the strong consolation of a lively hope, and the presence of
that Saviour who " sticketh closer than a brother," and who has
said, " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee."
The following letter, written on his death-bed to his beloved
friend Mr. Conon, only a fortnight before he died, gives a most
pleasing impression of Walker's happy frame of mind in the
prospect of eternity. He says : —
" My dearest, most faithful friend, — My disorder, though by
no means affording the least prospect of recovery, yet seems to
affect me at present more with weakness than with that violent
heat which rendered me incapable of thought. I can now,
blessed be God, think a little ; and with what comfort do I
both receive your thoughts and communicate mine to you !
Oh, my dear friend, what do we owe to the Lord for one
another ! More than I could have conceived, had not God sent
me to die elsewhere. We shall have time to praise the Lord,
when we meet in the other world. I stand and look upon that
world with an established heart. I see the way prepared,
opened, and assured unto me in Jesus Christ. For ever blessed
be the name of God, that I can look upon death, that intro
duces that glorious scene, without any kind of fear. I find my
grand duty still is submission, both as to time and circum
stances. Why should I not say to you that I find nothing
come so near my heart, as the fear lest my will should thwart
God's will in any circumstances 1 Thus, I think, I am enabled
to watch and pray in some poor measure. Well, my dear
friend, I am but stepping a little before you. You will soon
also get your release, and then we shall triumph for ever in the
name, love, and power of the Lamb. Adieu ! Yours in the
Lord Jesus Christ for ever. Amen."
The above touching letter was probably the last that Walker
wrote. One week later, Mr. Burnet, a dear and valued friend
both of Walker's and Venn's, gave the following account of him

VISIT OF MR. B URNE T. 323
in a letter to a friend. He says : " On Saturday, the nth July,
I reached Mr. Walker's lodging at Blackheath. There I saw
the dear man lying on his bed of sickness, pining away in the
last stage of consumption, burnt up with raging fever, and
wasted almost to a skeleton. He was perfectly sensible, and
so was able to express himself much to our satisfaction. The
first thing which struck me exceedingly was his patient submis
sion under God's hand, and his thankful tender concern for all
those who were near to him. So little was his mind engaged
with things merely pertaining to himself, that in the smallest
things concerning my own convenience and comfort he behaved
as if I had been the sick person. He said he had been uneasy,
at the beginning of his sickness, at the want of sensible frames
of feeling, but was relieved by that Scripture, ' They that wor
ship God must worship him in spirit,' with the noble powers of
the soul ; and that he now found experimentally the worship of
God's Spirit on his heart in a degree he had never before
experienced. ' I am now enabled,' he said, ' to see when it was
that the Lord Jesus first laid effectual hold of my heart, which
I was never able to discover before. I have a perfect satisfac
tion in tbe principles I have preached, and the methods I have
generally taken. I have no doubt respecting my state in Christ,
or my future glory. Behold, I am going down to the gates of
the grave, and holy angels wait for me. Why do you trouble
yourselves, and weep? Cannot you rejoice with me? I am
going to heaven. Christ died : my Lord ! Oh, had I strength
to express myself, I could tell you enough to make your hearts
weep for joy. God is all love to me, and my trials are very
slight'" On Tuesday, July the 14th, Walker dictated the following
words to Mr. Conon : " My dearest Friend, — With great con
fusion of thought, I have no doubts, great confidence, great
submission, no complaining. As to actual views of the joys
that are coming, I have none ; but a steadfast belief of them

3 24 HIS LITERARY REMAINS.
in Christ." The same day, when one sitting by his bedside
observed that his soul was ripe for heaven and eternity, he
interrupted him by saying, " that the body of sin was not yet
done away, but that he should continue a sinner to the last
gasp, and desired that he would pray for him as such."
On Sunday, July the 19th, in the same happy and peaceful
frame of mind, the holy curate of Truro fell asleep in Christ,
and went home. " Let me die the death of the righteous, and
let my last end be like his."
Walker's literary remains are not many, but they deserve far
more attention than many writings of the period when he lived.
His " Lectures on the Church Catechism," his " Nine Sermons
on the Covenant of Grace," and his eleven sermons entitled
" The Christian," are all excellent books, and ought to be
better known and more read than they are in the present day.
His sermons give me a most favourable impression of his
powers as a preacher. For simplicity, directness, vivacity, and
home appeals to the heart and conscience, I am disposed to
assign them a very high rank among the sermons of a hundred
years ago. It is my deliberate impression, that if he had been
an itinerant like Whitefield, and had not confined himself to his
pulpit at Truro, he would probably have been reckoned one
of the best preachers of his day.
The following extract from the last sermon preached by
Walker at Truro is not only interesting in itself, but is also a
very fair specimen of his style of preaching. The subject was
the second coming of Christ to judge the quick and the dead.
He said at the conclusion : " Can I think of this day, so
honourable to him whom my soul loveth, without longing and
wishing for its appearing ? When I consider that his people
shall partake with him in the glories of that day, and hear him
say those ravishing words never to be recalled, ' Come, ye
blessed of my father,' can I do other than say, ' Come, Lord
Jesus, come quickly V Surely I should rejoice to see and be

WALKER'S LAST SERMOM. 325
for ever with the Lord ; to behold his beauty as the express
image of his father's person ; to contemplate with endless and
insatiable transport the glory which the Father hath given him ;
to make my acknowledgment, amid the praises of heaven,
among the multitude which no man can number, as saved, for
ever saved, by his love and care, his power and grace. What !
when the least beam of his glory let in upon my soul now turns
my earth into heaven, and makes me cry out with Peter, ' It is
good for us to be here,' can I wish to delay his coming ? When,
remaining in this vale of misery, I groan under corruptions, and
am burdened with a corruptible body, can I say, ' This is better
than to be fashioned in soul and body like unto the Lord V
When I find here nothing but vanity and vexation of spirit,
shall I be averse to the Lord's coming to change my sorrows
into joy unspeakable and full of glory ? Here, beset as I am
with enemies, would I not long for that blessed day when I
shall see them again 110 more for ever ? And would I not be
glad to be taken from a world lying in wickedness, into that
new heaven and earth wherein dwelleth righteousness ? I know
that my redeemer liveth. I know that he shall stand at the
latter day upon the earth. I have a humble confidence that he
will own me among the children. And shall I, like those who
know no better joys than this world can afford them, are ignor
ant of a Redeemer's righteousness, and lie under the uncon
scious guilt of unnumbered and unpardoned sin — shall I, like
them, cleave to this base life as my all for happiness, and not
wait, and wish, and long for the day of my Master's glorious
appearing ? No ! I will not abide in that low measure of faith,
which only begets a hope that I may be well when the Lord
comes, but knows not what it is to love the day of his appear
ing. My endeavour shall be to be strong in the faith, and
abounding in hope through the power ofthe Holy Ghost, always
fruitful in good works, and hasting unto the day of the Lord.
" As for you, my dear hearers, I am grieved at heart for

326 WALLCER'S LAST SERMON.
many, very many of you, to think how you will make your
appearance before Christ's judgment-seat You have no works
to speak there for your belonging to Christ ; I can see none.
I see works of various kinds that prove you do not belong to
him. If a life of pleasure, idleness, indulgence, drunkenness,
pride, covetousness, would recommend you to the favour of the
Judge, few would be better received than numbers of you ! In
the name of God, my friends, when you know this moment in
your own consciences that if, as you have been and are, you
should be called to judgment, you would be surely cast into
hell, why will you live at such a rate ? Well ! we shall all
be soon before the judgment-seat of Christ. There the con
troversy between me, persuading you by the terrors of the
Lord to repent, and you, determined to abide in your sins, will
be decided. There it will appear whether your blood will be
upon your own heads for your obstinate impenitences, or upon
mine for not giving you warning. Christ will certainly either
acquit or condemn me on this account ; and if I should be
acquitted, what will become of you 1 I tremble to think how
many words of mine will be brought up against you on that day.
What will you say, what will you answer, how will you excuse
yourselves ? Oh, sirs, if you will not be prevailed upon, you
will, with eternal self-reproach, curse the day that you knew me,
or heard one word from my mouth. Why, why will ye die with
so aggravated a destruction ? May the Lord incline you to
think 1 May he cause this word to sink deep into your hearts !
May he show you all your dangers, and with an outstretched
arm bring you out of the hands of the devil, and translate you
into the kingdom of his dear Son."
The letters which Mr. Sidney has collected in his biography
of Walker are all interesting, especially those addressed to the
two Wesleys, and to Mr. Adam of Winteringham, author of
" Private Thoughts upon Religion." Indeed, the whole book is
valuable. I only regret that the author should have thought it

HIS BIOGRAPHY. 327
necessary to elaborate so carefully his favourite idea, that Mr.
Walker was a sound Churchman and not a Dissenter. It may
be perfectly true, no doubt. But it is too often pressed and
thrust upon our notice. Walker lived in a day when the very
existence of Christianity in England was at stake, and when the
main business of true-hearted Christians was to preserve the
very foundations of revealed religion from being swept away.
To my eyes, Walker's thorough Christianity is a far more con
spicuous object than his Churchmanship.
After all, I leave the subject of this chapter with a very deep
conviction that we know comparatively very little about Walker.
The half of his work, I suspect, has never yet been recorded.
He lived near the Land's End. He seldom left his own parish.
His life was never fully written till fifty or sixty years after he
was dead. What wonder, then, if we know but little of the
man ! Yet I venture the surmise that in the last day, when the
secrets of all ministries shall be disclosed, few will be found to
have done better work for Christ in their day and generation
than Walker of Truro.

XI.
Jfamts i^rfojr af Mesion Jfabell, anb {ns
Iftmisirir.
Born near Northampton, 17T3 — Educated at Lincoln College, Oxford — Intimacy with
John Wesley — Ordained, 1736 — Curate of Dummer, 1738; of Bideford, 1740; and of
Weston Favell, 1743 — Early Religious History — Correspondence with Whitefield —
Studious Habit at Weston Favell — Literary Remains Analyzed — Correspondence —
Humour — Private Life — Charity — Self-denial — Died, 1758 — Testimony of Romaine,
Venn, Cowper, Cecil, Bickersteth, and Daniel Wilson.
HERE is a striking chapter in the Book of Judges, in
which Deborah and Barak sing a triumphal hymn
after the defeat of the hosts of Sisera. In one part
of this hymn they recount the names of the tribes who came
forward most readily to do battle for the freedom of Israel.
Some of the tribes are mentioned in high praise. Others are
dismissed with expressions of reproach. None are so much
commended as Zebulun and Naphtali. They were " a people
who jeoparded their lives unto the death in the high places of
the field." But a sentence is used in the account of Zebulun,
which deserves special notice : " Out of Zebulun," it is said,
" came down they that handle the pen of the writer " (Judges
v. 14).
The expression is a strange one. It cannot be denied that
the meaning of it is involved in some obscurity. There is
some probability in the conjecture of those who think it signi
fies scribes, who mustered the levies of Zebulun, and wrote
down the names of those who went to war (compare Jer.

BIR TH OF J A MES HER VEY. 329
lii. 25). But be the precise meaning what it may, one thing is
abundantly clear. The zeal of Zebulun in God's cause was
such that, among her warriors in the day of battle, there were
some who were more accustomed to wield the pen than the
sword. When God's work was to be done, the soldier and the
writer stood shoulder to shoulder, and side by side.
The expression has often recurred to my mind of late, in
studying the history of English religion a hundred years ago.
I am struck with the variety of instruments which God em
ployed in carrying on the great revival of Christianity which
then took place. I see some men who were mighty with the
tongue, and bowed the hearts of assemblies by their preaching,
as the trees of the wood are bowed by the wind. I see others
who were mighty in government, and skilful in organizing, direct
ing, methodizing, and administering. But, besides these, I see
others who were mighty with the pen, and did work for Christ as
real and lasting as any of their contemporaries. They made no
public show. They did not cry, or strive, or let their voice be
heard in the street. But they laboured in their way most
effectually for the advancement of pure evangelical religion.
They reached minds which were never brought under the in
fluence of Whitefield, Wesley, or Romaine. They produced
results in many quarters which will never be fully known till
the judgment day. Foremost, perhaps, in this class of men in
the last century, was the subject of my present paper, James
Hervey of Weston Favell, the author of " Theron and Aspasio."
James Hervey was born on February 26, 17 13, at Harding-
stone, near Northampton. His father was rector of the neigh
bouring parishes of Collingtree and Weston Favell, but appears
for some reason to have resided out of his parish. About his
parents I can find no certain information, either as to their
religious opinions or their practice. The parishes of which his
father was rector are small rural places, very near the town of
Northampton, on the south-eastern side. The date ofhis birth

33° EDUCATED AT LINCOLN COLLEGE.
deserves notice on one account. It shows that he was one of
the little band whom God sent into the world at a special time,
to do a special work together in England. Whitefield, Wesley,
Grimshaw, Berridge, Rowlands, Romaine, Venn, Walker, and
Hervey, were all born in the first twenty years of the eighteenth
century, between 1700 and 1720.
The facts and events of Hervey's life are singularly few. He
was educated at the Grammar School of Northampton, and
remained there from the time he was seven years old till he
was seventeen. Two things only are recorded about his school
boy life. One is, that he was very skilful and dexterous in all
games and recreations. The other is, that he made great pro
gress in Latin and Greek, and would have got on even faster
than he did, if his schoolmaster had allowed him. But it
appears that this worthy pedagogue made it a rule never to allow
any of his pupils to learn quicker than his own son ! The
fiction of " Do-the-boys Hall," it may be feared, is built on a
very broad foundation of facts. Obscure Yorkshire schools
are not the only academies where little boys are victimized
and unfairly used.
In the year 1731, Hervey was sent to Oxford, and entered
at Lincoln College. The first two years of his University life
appear to have been spent in idleness. Like many young men,
he suffered much from the want of some wise friend to advise
and direct him in his studies. In 1733, however, he became
acquainted with the two Wesleys, Whitefield, Ingham, and
other steady young men, and derived great benefit from their
society. Under their influence and example, he began a steady
course of reading, and made himself master of such books as
" Derham's Astro-Theology," " Ray's Wisdom of God in Crea
tion," and other works of a similar kind. He also commenced
the study of the Hebrew language. Nor was this all. He
began to follow his new companions in their efforts to attain
and promote a high standard of religion. Like them, he began

INTIMACY WITH JOHN WESLEY. 33 1
to live by method, received the communion every Sabbath,
visited the sick and the prisoners in jail, and read to poor
people. The last three years of his Oxford life were thus use
fully employed, and the result was that he left the University,
in 1736, with a good foundation of steady habits of living, and
with a very fair amount of knowledge and scholarship. His
literary remains, indeed, supply abundant proof that, consider
ing the times he lived in, he was a well-read and well-educated
man. No one seems to have been more useful to Hervey, at this
period of his life, than John Wesley. At a later date, after
doctrinal differences had separated the two men, the Rector of
Weston Favell bore grateful and honourable testimony to this
fact. He says, in one of his letters : " I heartily thank you, as
for all other favours, so especially for teaching me Hebrew. I
have cultivated this study, according to your advice. I can
never forget that tender-hearted and generous Fellow of
Lincoln, who condescended to take such compassionate notice
of a poor undergraduate, whom almost everybody contemned,
and whose soul no man cared for." Happy is that college
where Fellows show kindness to undergraduates, and do not
neglect them ! Attentions of this kind cost little ; but they are
worth much, gain influence, and bear fruit after many days.
In the year 1736, Hervey was ordained a minister by Dr.
Potter, Bishop of Oxford, and in 1736 became curate to his
father at Weston Favell. He seems to have filled this position
for a very short time. In 1738, we find him Curate of Dum
mer, near Basingstoke, in Hampshire, a position, singularly
enough, which Whitefield had also occupied about the same
year. In 1740, he removed to Bideford, in North Devonshire,
and remained there till August 1743. He then returned to
Weston Favell, and became once more curate to his father.
This was his last move. On the death of his father, in 1752,
he succeeded him as Rector of Weston Favell and Collingtree.

332 EARLY RELIGIOUS HISTORY.
but only survived him six years. He finally died, at Weston
Favell, on Christmas-day 1758, of pulmonary consumption, at
the comparatively early age of forty-five. Unlike most ministers,
he preached the gospel amongst the people who had known
him from his earliest infancy, and was buried within a very few
miles from the place where he had been born. In life and
death he " dwelt among his own people."
The spiritual history of Hervey presents several interesting
features. I can find no evidence that he knew anything of
vital religion when he was a boy or a young man. Though
mercifully kept from the excess of riot and immorality into
which the young frequently run, he seems to have been utterly
careless and thoughtless about his soul. The beginning of a
work of grace in his heart may undoubtedly be traced to his resi
dence at Oxford, and his intercourse with Wesley and Whitefield,
which he commenced at the age of twenty. Yet even then he
seems to have been much in the dark for some years, and to
have been comparatively ignorant of the distinctive doctrines
of real Christianity. His college., friends, it must be admitted,
knew little more than he did. Their early struggles after light
were made through a fog of mysticism and asceticism which
impeded their course for years. The freeness and simplicity of
the gospel, the finished work of Christ on the cross, the real
meaning of justification by faith without the deeds of the law,
the folly of putting doing before believing, all these were sub
jects which this little band of young men at Oxford were very
slow to understand. Each and all in their turns struggled
through their mental difficulties, and came out on the right
side. But one of the last to reach " terra firma," and grasp
the whole truth as it is in Jesus, undoubtedly was James
Hervey. In fact, it was not till the year 1741, five years after
he had been ordained, that he thoroughly received the whole
gospel into his heart, and embraced the whole system of evan
gelical doctrine. Two sermons preached by Hervey at Bide-

NOT THOR 0 UGIIL Y ENLIGHTENED. 333
ford about the year 1741, in which he plainly avowed his change
of sentiments, were commonly called his " Recantation "
sermons. The state of Hervey's heart during the seven years preceding
1741 must have been one of continual conflict and inward dis
satisfaction. Enlightened enough to feel the value of his soul,
and to see something of the sinfulness of sin, he was still un
acquainted with the way of peace. His letters written at this
period, both before and after ordination, exhibit a mind full of
pious thoughts, holy desires, and high aspirations, but with
everything out of proportion and out of place. The writer says
excellent things about the soul, and sin, and God, and the
Bible, and the world, and duty, and even says much about
Christ. You cannot help admiring his evident sincerity, purity
of mind, and zeal to do good. But you cannot help feeling
that he has not got hold of things by the right end, and does
not see the whole of religion. He is like an excellent and
well-formed ship without a compass and rudder. He has not
yet got his feet upon the Rock. He is incessantly putting
things in their wrong places. The last are too often first, and
the first are too often last. He does not say things that are
not true, but he does not say them in the right way, and at the
same time leaves out much that ought to be said.
The unsatisfactory character of Hervey's theology at the
beginning of his ministry is well illustrated by the following
anecdote. In one of the Northamptonshire parishes where he
preached before 1741, there lived a ploughman who usually
attended the ministry of Dr. Doddridge, and was well-informed
in the doctrines of grace. Hervey being ordered by his physi
cians, for the benefit of his health, to follow the plough, in
order to smell the fresh earth, frequently accompanied this
ploughman when he was working. Knowing that he was a
serious man, he said to him one morning, "What do you think
is the hardest thing in religion 1" — The ploughman replied;

334 HERVEY AND THE PLOUGHMAN.
" Sir, I am a poor man, and you are a minister ; I beg leave
to return the question." — Then said Mr. Hervey : " I think the
hardest thing is to deny sinful self ;" grounding his opinion on
our Lord's admonition, " If any man will come after me, let
him deny himself." " I argued," said Mr. Hervey, " upon the
import and extent of the duty, showing that merely to forbear
sinful actions is little, and that we must deny admittance and
entertainment to evil imaginations and quench irregular desires.
In this way I shot my random bolt." — The ploughman quietly
replied : " Sir, there is another instance of self-denial to which
the injunction of Christ equally extends, which is the hardest
thing in religion, and that is, to deny righteous self. You know
I do not come to hear you preach, but go every Sunday with
my family to hear Dr. Doddridge at Northampton. We rise
early in the morning, and have prayer before we set out, in
which I find pleasure. Walking there and back I find pleasure.
Under the sermon I find pleasure. When at the Lord's Table
I find pleasure. We return, read a portion of Scripture, and
go to prayer in the evening, and I find pleasure. But yet,
to this moment, I find it the hardest thing to deny righteous
self, I mean to renounce my own strength and righteousness,
and not to lean on that for holiness or rely on this for justifica
tion." In repeating this story to a friend, Mr. Hervey observed,
" I then hated the righteousness of Christ. I looked at the
man with astonishment and disdain, and thought him an old
fool, and wondered at what I fancied the motley mixture of
piety and oddity in his notions. I have since seen clearly who
was the fool ; not the wise old ploughman, but the proud
James Hervey. I now discern sense, solidity, and truth in his
observations." During this period of Hervey's life, his old Oxford friend, the
famous George Whitefield, frequently corresponded with him.
That mighty man of God had been brought into the full light
of the gospel, and, like the Samaritan woman, burned with

CORRESPONDENCE WITH WHITEFIELD. 335
desire to bring all whom he knew and loved into the same
glorious liberty. The following letter, while it shows White-
field's deep concern for his friend's salvation, makes Hervey's
defective religious principles at this period very evident : " I
long to have my dear friend come forth and preach the truth as
it is in Jesus ; not a righteousness or holiness of our own,
whereby we make ourselves meet, but the righteousness of
another, even the Lord our righteousness ; upon the imputa
tion and apprehending of which by faith we shall be made meet
by his Holy Spirit to live with and enjoy God. Dear Mr.
Hervey, it is an excellent thing to be convinced of the freeness
and riches of God's grace in Christ Jesus. It is sweet to know
and preach that Christ justifies the ungodly, and that all good
works are not so much as partly the cause, but the effect of our
justification. Till convinced of these truths, you must own free
will is in man, which is directly contrary to the Holy Scriptures
and to the Articles of our Church. Let me advise dear Mr.
Hervey, laying aside all prejudices, to read and pray over St.
Paul's Epistles to the Romans and Galatians, and then to tell
me what he thinks of this doctrine. Most of our old friends
are now happily enlightened. God sets his seal to such preach
ing in an extraordinary manner, and I am persuaded the gates
of hell will never be able to prevail against it. O that dear Mr.
Hervey would also join with us ! O that the Lord would open
his eyes to behold aright this mystery of godliness? How
would it rejoice my heart ! How would it comfort his own
soul ! He would no longer groan under a spirit of bondage ;
no, he would be brought into the glorious liberty of the children
of God." This letter was dated Philadelphia, November io,
1739- Hervey's excellent biographer, John Brown of Whitburn,
gives the following clear account of his state of mind at this
period : " It is evident that he was seeking salvation ; but he
sought it, as it were, by the works of the law. One of his

336 QUOTA TIONS FROM HIS BIOGRAPHY.
leading errors was, that he had low, scanty, inadequate apprehen
sions of the love of God. From this unavoidably followed a
disesteem of imputed righteousness, a conceit of personal qualifi
cations, a spirit of legal bondage, and a tincture of Pharisaical
pride. He conceived faith to be no more than a mere believing
of promises if he did well, and of threatenings if he did ill. He
wished for a salvation to be bestowed upon some sincere, pious,
and worthy persons, and was distressed because he could not
find himself of that number. To use his own words, when he
felt he was deplorably deficient in duty, he would comfort him
self with saying, ' Soul, thy God only requires sincere obedience,
and- perhaps to-morrow may be more abundant in acts of holi
ness.' When overcome by sin, he would call to mind his
righteous deeds, and so think to commute with divine justice,
and quit scores for his offences by his duties. In order to be
reconciled to God, and to ease his conscience, he would promise
stricter watchfulness, more alms, and renewed fastings. Over
looking entirely the active obedience of our Redeemer, he fondly
imagined that through the death of Christ he might have pardon
of his sins, and could by his own doings secure eternal life."
" For some time," continues his biographer, " letters from
Whitefield were disregarded, or answered with stubborn silence ;
but at length, by this and other means, a saving change took
place in Mr. Hervey's mind. Says he, The two great com
mandments — Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself — made the first
awakening impression on my heart. Amazing ! thought I ; are
these commands of God as obligatory as the prohibition of
adultery or the observation of the Sabbath ? Then has my
whole life been a continued act of disobedience ; not a day nor
an hour in which I have performed my duty ! This conviction
struck me as the handwriting upon the wall struck the presump
tuous monarch. It pursued me, as Saul pursued the Christians,
not only to my own house, but to distant cities ; nor even gave

UJiJAJIVS CLEARER LIGHT. 337
up the great controversy till, under the influence of the Spirit,
it brought me, weary and heavy laden, to Jesus Christ. Then
God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, shined
into my heart, and gave me the light of the glory of God in the
face of Jesus Christ."
After all, it would be difficult to give a more vivid and in
teresting account of the change which came over Hervey than
that which he himself gives in a letter to his faithful friend,
George Whitefield. He says : " You are pleased to ask how
the Holy Ghost convinced me of self-righteousness, and drove
me out of my false rest. Indeed, sir, I cannot tell. The light
was not instantaneous ; it did not flash upon my soul, but arose
like the dawning of the day. A little book by Jenks, upon
' Submission to the Righteousness of God,' was made service
able to me. Your journals, dear sir, and sermons, especially
that sweet sermon on the text, ' What think ye of Christ ?' were
a means of bringing me to the knowledge of the truth. Another
piece has been also like precious eye-salve to my dim and
clouded understanding — I mean Marshall's ' Gospel Mystery
of Sanctification.' These, blessed be He who is a light to them
that sit in darkness, have in some degree convinced me of my
former errors. I now begin to see I have been labouring in
the fire, and wearying myself for very vanity, while I have
attempted to establish my own righteousness. I trusted I knew
not what, while I trusted in some imaginary good deeds of my
own. These are no hiding-place from the storm ; they are a
refuge of lies. If I had the meekness of Moses and the patience
of Job, the zeal of Paul and the love of John, I durst not
advance the least plea to eternal life on this footing. As for my
own beggarly performances, wretched righteousnesses, gracious
Emmanuel ! I am ashamed, I am grieved that I should thrust
them into the plan of thy divine, thy inconceivably precious
obedience ! My schemes are altered. I now desire to work in
my blessed Master's service, not for life, but from life and
(195) 22

338 OPERATIONS OF THE SPIRIT.
salvation. I would study to please him in righteousness and
holiness all the days of my life."
In another letter to Whitefield, of about the same date,
Hervey says : " I own, with shame and sorrow, I have been a
blind leader of the blind. My tongue and my pen have per
verted the good ways of the Lord, have darkened the glory of
redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade
the glories of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown
off his head. My writings and discourses have derogated from
the honour, the everlasting, incommunicable honour of Jesus.
They presumed to give works a share in the redemption and
recovery of a lost sinner. They have placed filthy rags on the
throne of the Lamb, and by that means have debased the
Saviour and exalted the sinner. But I trust the divine truth
begins to dawn upon my soul. Oh, may it, like the rising sun,
shine more and more till the day break in all its brightness,
and the shadows flee away ! Now, was I possessed of all the
righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous in all
generations, could they be transferred to me, and might I call
them my own, I would renounce them all that I might win
Christ." I make no excuse for the length at which I have dwelt on
this portion of Hervey's history. A mere worldly man may see
nothing interesting in it ; but a true Christian, unless I am
greatly mistaken, will find it full of instruction. It is useful to
' mark the diversities of the operation of the Spirit. How slowly
and gradually he carries on his work in some hearts, compared
to the rapid progress he makes in others ! It is useful to mark
the extent of his operations. How thoroughly he can turn
upside down a man's theological opinions ! How little we know
what a young self-righteous minister may one day, by God's
grace, become ! Well would it be for the Christian Church if
there were more ministers in her pale taught of God, and brought
to sit at the feet of Christ, like James Hervey.

HIS STUDIOUS HABITS. 339
The last seventeen years of Hervey's life were spent in com
parative retirement at Weston Favell. " My house," he writes
to a friend, " is quite retired. It faces the garden and the field,
so that we hear none of the tumultuous din of the world, and
see nothing but the wonderful and charming works of the
Creator. Oh, that I may be enabled to improve this advan
tageous solitude !" Willing as he doubtless was to go forth into
public and do the work of an evangelist, like his beloved friend
Whitefield, his delicate health made it quite impossible. From
his youth up he had shown a decided tendency to pulmonary
consumption. He had neither voice nor physical strength to
preach in the open air, address large congregations, and arrest
the attention of multitudes, like many of his contemporaries.
He saw this clearly, and wisely submitted to God's appoint
ment. Those whom he could not reach with his voice, he
resolved to approach by his pen. From his isolated study in
his Northamptonshire parish he sent forth arrows which were
sharp in the hearts of the King's enemies. In a word, he
became a diligent writer on behalf of the gospel from the time
of his conversion till he was laid in his grave. Ill health, no
doubt, often stopped his labour, and laid him aside. But,
though faint, he was always pursuing. Delicate and weak as
he always was, his pen was very seldom idle, and he was always
doing " what he could." The work to which he devoted him
self required a large measure of faith and patience. He
laboured on uncheered by admiring crowds, and unaided by
the animal excitement which often carries forward the wearied
preacher. But while health and strength lasted he never ceased
to labour, and seldom laboured in vain. Hundreds were
reached by Hervey's writings, who would never have conde
scended to listen to Whitefield's voice.
The very retirement of Weston Favell was not without its
advantages. It gave the worthy rector unbroken leisure for
writing. He could sit down in his study without fear of being

34° HIS LOVE OF THE PURITANS.
disturbed by the endless petty interruptions which disturb the
dweller in large towns, and make the continuous flow of thought
almost impossible. Above all, it gave him plenty of time for
reading and storing his mind. It has been well said that
"reading maketh a full man," and no one can look through
Hervey's literary remains without seeing abundant evidence
that he was a great reader. With Greek and Roman classical
writers he was familiar from his youth. The following theolo
gical writers are said to have been among his special favourites :
Chrysostom, Gerhard, Airing, Owen, Manton, Goodwin, Rey
nolds, Hall, Beveridge, Bunyan, Hopkins, Howe, Bates, Flavel,
Caryl, Poole, Charnock, Traill, Turretine, Witsius, Vitringa,
Hurrion, Leighton, Polhill, Gill, Brine, Guyse, Boston, Rawlins,
Coles, Jenks, Marshall, Erskine, Milton, Young, and Watts.
The names of these authors speak for themselves. The man
who was familiar with their works was likely to be full of matter,
and when he wrote for the press he had a fair right to claim a
patient hearing. The ways of God's providence are mysterious
and truly instructive. If Hervey had not been kept at home
by ill health, he would probably never have had time for much
reading. If he had not had time to be a reader, he would
never have written what he did.
The English Puritans appear to have been special favourites
with Hervey. Again and again, in his biography, we find him
speaking of them in terms of the highest commendation. For
instance, he says in one place, " Be not ashamed of the name
Puritan. The Puritans were the soundest preachers, and, I
believe, the truest followers of Christ in their day." Again :
" For my part I esteem the Puritans as some of the most zealous
Christians that ever appeared in our land." Again : " The
Puritans, one and all of them, glory in the righteousness of their
great Mediator ; they extol his imputed righteousness in almost
every page, and pour contempt on all other works compared
with their Lord's. For my part I know no set of writers in the

HIS LITERARY WORKS. 341
world so remarkable for this doctrine and diction. It quite
distinguishes them from the generality of our modern treatises."
I make no apology for these quotations. They throw broad,
clear light on Hervey's theological opinions. Nothing brings
out a man's distinctive religious views so thoroughly as his
choice of books. Tell me what divines a minister loves to read,
and I will soon tell you to what school of theology he belongs.
The principal literary works which Hervey published in his
life-time, were two volumes of " Meditations and Contempla
tions," and three volumes of " Dialogues and Letters" between
two fictitious persons, whom he named " Theron and Aspasio."
The "Meditations" are soliloquies and thoughts arising out of
such subjects as the tombs, a flower-garden, creation, night, and
the starry heavens. The " Dialogues" touch on many points
of theology, but especially upon the great doctrine of justifica
tion by faith in the imputed righteousness of Christ. If life had
been continued, Hervey intended to have added a fourth volume
of " Dialogues," of which the subject was to have been Chris
tian holiness. But his early death cut short the design, and he
was only able to tell his friends that they must regard his favourite
book, Marshall on Sanctification, as his deputy and representa
tive. His words were, — " I do, by these presents, depute
Marshall to supply my lack of service. Marshall expresses my
thoughts, prosecutes my schemes, and not only pursues the same
end, but proceeds in the same way. I shall therefore rejoice in
the prospect of having the 'Gospel Mystery of Sanctification'
stand as a fourth volume to ' Theron and Aspasio.'"
Both the works above mentioned attained an extraordinary
degree of popularity from the moment they were published, and
procured for the author a world-wide reputation. They formed,
in fact, the whole foundation of his fame. Thousands and tens
of thousands of Christians have never known anything of Hervey
except as " the author of Theron and Aspasio." His first work,
the Meditations, ran through twenty editions in a very short time,

342 STYLE OF HIS WRITINGS.
and was translated into the Dutch language ! Theron and
Aspasio met with acceptance all over England and Scotland,
and obliged even worldly critics to take notice of it. All these
are plain facts which admit of no controversy. They are facts
which arouse in our minds a little curiosity. We naturally want
to knovv what kind of religious writing was popular in England a
hundred years ago.
The first thought that will probably start up within us as we read
Hervey's Meditations and Dialogues, will be unmixed surprise
and amazement. The style is so peculiar, that we marvel how
our forefathers could possibly have liked it. From first to last
the author writes in such a florid, high flown, luxuriant, bom
bastic, stilted fashion, that he almost takes your breath away.
You can hardly believe that he is in earnest, and that the whole
thing is not an assumed mannerism and affectation. The long
words, the grandiose mode of expressing thoughts, the starched
and painted dress of the sentences — all, all is so utterly unlike
the writing of the present century, that the reader stands dumb
founded, and hardly knows whether he ought to laugh or to cry.
In the whole range of popular English books, I do not hesi
tate to say that I do not know a style of writing less to be
admired than the style of " Theron and Aspasio." One cannot
help inwardly feeling, What a strange standard of public taste
must have prevailed, when such writing as this was deliberately
published and universally admired !
However, first impressions are not always correct. We must
not hastily condemn Hervey's writings as worthless, because
their style is not to our mind. A little 'calm consideration will
probably show us that there is far more to be said for them than
at first sight appears. A second look at the rector of Weston
Faveli's writings will very likely modify our verdict about them.
To those who are disposed to think lightly of Hervey's writings
I venture to submit the following considerations.
For one thing, we must in common fairness remember the

ANALYSIS OF HIS WRITINGS. 343
times in which Hervey wrote. The middle of last century was
an era in English literature, when no writing would go down
with the public that was not somewhat stilted, classical, long-
worded, and stiff. The short, plain, cut-and-thrust style of the
present day would have been condemned as indicative of a
vulgar, uneducated mind. Poor Hervey wrote in clays when
moral essays were framed on the model of the Spectator, the
Tatler, and the Rambler, and fictions were written like " Sir
Charles Grandison " and " Clarissa Harlow." If he wanted to
get the ear of the public, he had no alternative but to write
according to the public taste. Let us grant that his style of
English composition is far too ornate and florid ; but let us not
forget to lay the blame at the right door. His faults were the
faults of his day. If he had written Theron and Aspasio in a
plain unadorned style, it is probable that the book would have
fallen unnoticed to the ground.
For another thing, we must do Hervey the justice to remem
ber, that under all the gaudy ornamentation of his compositions
his Master's business is never forgotten. The more we read his
books the more we must admit, that although he may offend our
tastes, he is always most' faithful to Christ's truth. It is impos
sible not to admire the vein of piety which runs through every
page, and the ability with which he defends doctrines which the
heart of man naturally detests. The only wonder is that books
containing so much scriptural truth should ever have become so
extensively popular. Even Whitefield did not expect so much
acceptance for them. " I foretell the fate of these volumes,"
he said in a letter ; " nothing but your scenery can screen you.
Self will never consent to die, though slain in so genteel.a man
ner, without showing some resentment against the artful mur
derer." In fact, I always feel that God gave a special blessing
to Hervey's writings on account of his eminent faithfulness to
the gospel in evil times. I look at them with reverence and
respect as weapons which did good service in their day, though

344 HIS VIEWS ATTACKED.
the fashion of them may not suit my taste. To use the author's
own words, they were an " attempt to dress the good old truths
of the Reformation in such drapery of language as to allure
people of all conditions." God was pleased to honour the
effort in its day, and we need not be ashamed to honour it
also. No well-informed Christian will be surprised to hear that
Hervey's writings did not please everybody. Of course they
were far too Scriptural to escape the enmity of the children of
this world. But this unhappily was not all the enmity that the
author of " Theron and Aspasio" had to endure. His clear and
sharply cut statements about justification gave great offence to
Christians of the Arminian school of theology. John Wesley
openly assaulted his views of imputed righteousness. Sande-
man, a Scotch Independent, fiercely attacked his views of faith.
In short, the amiable rector of Weston Favell had to learn, like
many other good men, that the most beautiful writing will not
command universal acceptance. The way of accurate Scrip
tural divinity is a way which many will always call " heresy,"
and speak against.
I will not weary my readers by entering into the details of
Hervey's controversial campaigns. Without pretending to en
dorse every sentence that he wrote, I feel no doubt that on the
whole he was right, and his adversaries wrong. Cudworth,
Ryland, and others, ably defended him. The only remark that
I make is, that Hervey's spirit and temper, under the assaults
made upon him, were beyond all praise. Never was there a
divine so utterly free from " odium theologicum." Well would
it have been for the credit of the Church of Christ, if the con
troversialists of the last century had all been as meek, and
gentle, and amiable, and kind-tempered as the author of "Theron
and Aspasio."
The letters which Hervey wrote, on a great variety of subjects,
are exceedingly good, and will repay an attentive perusal. Sit-

HIS CORRESPONDENCE. 345
ting in his quiet country parsonage, he had time to think over
all that he wrote ; and his correspondence, like his contemporary
Venn's, is one of the best part of his literary remains. Those
who read his letters will find their style, as a general rule, very
different from that of " Theron and Aspasio." The writer
seems to come down from his high horse, and to deal familiarly
and easily with men. The following letter to a dying young
lady is a beautiful specimen of his epistolary style, and is so
good all through that my readers will probably not blame me if
I give it to them whole and entire. A fac-simile of it faces the
title-page of my copy of Brown's life of Hervey, and is a per
fect specimen of small, delicate, finished, copper-plate hand
writing :
" Dear Miss Sarah, — So you are going to leave us, and
will be at your eternal home before us ! I heartily wish you an
easy, a comfortable, and a lightsome journey. Fear not. He
that died for you on the cross will be with you when you walk
through the valley ofthe shadow of death. (Ps. xxiii. 4.)
" People that travel often sing by the way, to render their
journey more pleasant. Let me furnish you with a song most
exactly and charmingly suited to your purpose : ' Who shall lay
anything to my charge l It is God that justifielh me. Who is
he that condemneth me ? It is Christ that died; yea, rather, that
is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also
maketh intercession for me.' Shall the law lay anything to my
charge 1 That has been fully satisfied by the obedience and
death of my divine Lord. Shall sin condemn me ? That has
all been fully borne, all been abolished, by the Lamb of God
which taketh away the sin of the world. Shall Satan accuse
me ? What will that avail when the Judge himself justifies me,
the Judge himself pronounces me righteous! (See Rom. viii.
33, 34; Gal. iii. 13 ; 1 Pet. ii. 24; Daniel ix. 24; John i. 29.)
" But shall I be pronounced righteous who have been and
am a poor sinner ? Hear what the Holy Ghost saith ; ' Christ

34^ LETTER -TO A YOUNG LADY.
loved the Church and gave himself for it, that he might present it to
himself a glorious Church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such
thing.' What reason have they to be afraid or ashamed who
have neither spot nor wrinkle, nor any blemish ? And such will
be the appearance of those who are washed in Christ's blood,
and clothed in Christ's righteousness. They will be presented
faultless and with exceeding joy before the throne. (See Eph. v.
25> 27 ; Jude 24.)
" But what shall I do for my kind companions and dear
friends ? You will exchange them for better, far better. You
will go to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly
Jerusalem. You will go to an innumerable company of angels,
to the general assembly and Church of the first-born which are
written in heaven, and to the spirits of just men made perfect.
You will go to God, your reconciled God, the Judge of all, and
to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood
of sprinkling that speaketh better things for you than your
heart can wish or your thoughts imagine. (See Heb. xii.
22-24.) " Perhaps your spirits are weak. Therefore I will not tire
you. The Lord Jesus make these sweet texts a cordial to your
soul. I hope to follow you ere long, to find you in the man
sions of peace and joy, and to join with you in singing praise,
everlasting praise, to him who hath loved us, and washed us
from our sins in his own blood. (Rev. i. 5.)
" Into his hands, his ever merciful and most compassionate
hands, I commend your spirit. — Your truly affectionate friend,
"J. Hervey.
"Weston, April 26, 1755."
I make no comment on this letter ; it needs none. There
are not many such letters written in these days of universal
hurry, under the influences of railway travelling, electric tele
graphs, and penny post. The faculty of writing such letters is
fast dying out of the world. But my readers will probably agree

HIS PUBLISHED SERAIONS. 347
with me that the man who could write to his friends in this
fashion was no common correspondent.
The published sermons of James Hervey are very few in num
ber. It is much to be regretted that we have no more of them.
The fevv published are so extremely good, both as to matter and
composition, that one feels sorry he did not give the world a
hundred more of the same sort. Of course, he could never be
a popular preacher. His weak health, feeble voice, and deli
cate constitution, made this impossible. He often lamented
his inability to serve his people better in the pulpit, comparing
himself to a soldier wounded, bleeding, and disabled, and only
not slain. He would frequently say, " My preaching is not like
sending an arrow from a bow, for which some strength of arm is
necessary, but like pulling the trigger of a gun ready charged,
which the feeblest finger can do." This remark was most true.
No doubt, his want of a striking action and delivery robbed his
sermons of effectiveness. But they were always full of excellent
stuff, excellently put together.
The reader of Hervey's Sermons will discover at once that they
are written in a style very unlike that of "Theron and Aspasio."
Fie will find comparatively little of that luxuriancy and orna
mentation to which I have already alluded. He will see, to his
surprise, a mode of address eminently simple, perspicuous,
pointed, and direct, though never degenerating into rant and
vulgarity. The rector of Weston Favell had evidently most
just and wise views of the wants of a mixed country congrega
tion. He knew that, next to proclaiming sound doctrine, a
minister's first aim should be to be understood. When, there
fore, he got up into his Northamptonshire pulpit, he deliberately
left behind his flowers and feathers, his paint and his gilding,
his fine words and long sentences, his classical allusions and
elaborate arguments. Usefulness was the one thing that he
desired to obtain, and to obtain it he was not ashamed to speak
very plain English to plain men. The following paragraphs

34§ SPECIMEN OF HIS SERMONS.
from a sermon preached by him in 1757, on "The Means of
Safety," from Hebrews xi. 28, will probably be read with interest,
as conveying a fair idea of his style of preaching : —
" Let me give a word of direction. Fly to Christ, alarmed
sinners? Come under the covert of his blood. Appropriate
the blessed Jesus ; look unto him, and his merits are your own.
Thus sprinkle his blood : sprinkle it upon your lintel and door
posts ; upon all you are, upon all you have, and all you do ;
upon your consciences, that they may be purged ; upon your
souls, that they may be sanctified ; upon your works, that they
may be accepted. Say, every one of you, I am a poor, guilty,
helpless creature ; but in Jesus Christ, who is full of grace and
truth, I have righteousness and strength. I am a poor, polluted,
loathsome creature ; but Jesus Christ, who is the image of the
invisible God and the brightness of his Father's glory, has loved
me and washed me from my filthiness in his own blood. I am
by nature a perverse, depraved creature, and by evil practices a
lost, damnable sinner ; but Jesus Christ who made the world,
Jesus Christ whom heaven and earth adore, Jesus Christ him
self came from the mansions of bliss on purpose to save me, to
give himself for me. And how can I perish who have such a
ransom ?
" Should you say, Have I a warrant for such a trust? I
reply, You have the best of warrants, our Lord's express per
mission, ' Whosoever will let him take the water of life freely.'
It is not said, this or that person only, but whosoever, including
you and me, excluding no individual man or woman. It is not
said, whosoever is worthy, but whosoever is willing. Wilt thou
be made whole? was our Lord's question to the impotent man
at the pool of Bethesda. Wilt thou, all terms and conditions
apart, inherit grace and glory? is his most benevolent address
to sinful men in all ages.
" You have our Lord's most gracious invitation ; ' Come
unto me.' And whom does he call? The righteous? No.

FREE GRACE. 349
The excellent ? Quite the reverse. He calls sinners, miserable
sinners, even the most miserable of sinners. Those who are
weary and heavy-laden, overwhelmed with iniquities, bowed
down to the brink of hell, and ready to think, ' There is no
hope.' Yet them he encourages, them he invites ; to them he
declares, ' I will give you rest,' rest in the enjoyment of peace
with God, and peace in your own consciences. Observe and
admire the riches of your Redeemer's grace. He says not, Ye
are vile, wretched, polluted by sin, and enslaved to the devil,
therefore keep at a distance; but therefore come. Come, and
be cleansed by my blood ; come, and be made free by my
Spirit. He says not, Furnish yourselves with this or that or
the other recommending accomplishment ; but only come.
Come just as you are, poor, undone, guilty creatures. Yea,
come to me for pardon and recovery ; to me, who have given
myself, my life, my all for your ransom.
" Should you still question whether these inestimable bless
ings are free for you? Remember, brethren, they are free for
sinners. Is this your character? Then they are as free for
your acceptance as for any person in the world. To us eternal
life is given — not to us who had deserved it by our goodness,
but us who had forfeited it by our sins. To you is -preached
the forgiveness of sins — not to you whose transgressions are
inconsiderable, but you whose iniquities are more in number
than the hairs of your head. Even to you who are the lost
and perishing sinner of Adam's family, is the word of this salva
tion sent. And by God's commission we publish it, that as sinners
you may receive it, that receiving it you may commence be
lieving, and that believing you may have life through his name.
" Come then, fellow-sinners, believe the record of heaven.
Set to your seal that God is true. Honour his word, which
cannot lie. Honour his grace, which is absolutely free. Honour
his dear Son, who has obtained eternal redemption for such
unworthy creatures as you and I."

35° HIS PRIVATE LIFE.
I have only two remarks to make on the above extract
before I pass on. If any reader of Hervey's works has imbibed
the idea that he could only write English after the model of
" Theron and Aspasio," I advise him to alter his estimate of
the good man's powers. The rector of Weston Favell could be
plain enough to suit the humblest intellect, when he pleased.
If any one thinks that the English pulpit of the present day is
greatly in advance of the last century, I venture to think that
he has something yet to learn. My own deliberate opinion is,
that it would be a great blessing to this country, if we had
more of such direct preaching as some parishes in Northamp
tonshire heard a hundred years ago.
The private life of Hervey was in thorough harmony with his
writing and preaching. It is the universal testimony of all who
knew him, that he was an eminently holy man. Even the
clergy of the neighbourhood, who disliked his theology, and
had no sympathy with his ways and opinions, could find no
fault in his daily walk. In fact, they used to call him " Saint
James." He never married, and by reason of ill health seldom
left home, and was confined to the house. But in-doors or
out-of-doors, he was always full of his Master's business, always
redeeming the time, always reading, writing, or speaking about
Christ, and always behaving like a man who had recently come
from his Lord's presence to say something, and was soon going
back again.
His humility was eminent. He never considered himself as
James Hervey, the celebrated writer, but as a poor guilty sinner,
equally indebted to divine grace with the lowest day-labourer
in his parish. To two malefactors condemned to be hanged,
he said : " You have just the same foundation for hope as I
must have when I shall depart this life. When I shall be
summoned to the great tribunal, what will be my plea, and
what my dependence? Nothing but Christ. I am a poor
unworthy sinner; but worthy is the Lamb that was slain. This

HIS CHARITY AND SELF-DENIAL. 35 1
is my only hope, and this is as free for you as it is for your
friend and fellow-sinner James Hervey." On publishing his
famous Fast-day Sermons, he observes : " May the Lord Jesus
himself, who was crucified in weakness, vouchsafe to work by
weakness, or, in other words, by James Hervey !" — When near
his death he wrote to a friend : " I beseech Mr.  to unite
his supplication with yours, for I am fearful lest I should dis
grace the gospel in my languishing moments. Pray for me,
the weakest of ministers and the weakest of Christians."
His charity and self-denial were most eminent. He literally
gave away almost all that he had, and lived on a mere fraction
of his income. In his giving he was always discreet. " I am
God's steward," he said, "for his poor, and I must husband
the little pittance I have to bestow on them, and make it go as
far as possible." .But when money was likely to be particularly
serviceable, as in the case of long sickness or sudden losses, he
would give away five, ten, or fifteen guineas at a time, taking
care it should not be known from whom the money came. His
income was never large, and it might be wondered how he
managed to spare such sums for charitable uses. But he saved
up nothing, and gave away all the profits arising from his books
— which were sometimes large sums — in doing good. In fact,
this was his bank for the poor. " I have devoted this fund,"
he said, " to God. I will, on no account, apply it to any
worldly uses. I write, not for profit or fame, but to serve the
cause of God ; and, as he has blessed my attempt, I think my
self bound to relieve the distresses of my fellow-creatures with
the profit that comes from that quarter." He carried out this
principle to the very last. Even after his death, he was found
to have ordered all profits arising from any future sale of his
books to be constantly applied to charitable uses.
But space would fail me if I were to dwell particularly on all
the leading features of Hervey's private character. The picture
is far too large to go into the frame of a short memoir like this.

3 5 2 HLS LAST ILLNESS.
His spirit of Catholic love to all God's people of every denom
ination — his delight in the society and conversation of godly
people — his faithfulness in reproving sin — his singular love to
Christ, and delight in his finished work and atonement — his
devotional diligence — his veneration for the Scriptures — his
meekness, gentleness, and tenderness of spirit — all these are
points on which much might be written, and much will be
found in the pages of his biography. So far as I can judge,
he appears to'have been a man of as eminently saintly character
as any that this country can point to, and one worthy to be
ranked by the side of Bradford, Baxter, and George Herbert.
Few evangelical men, at any rate, in the last century, can be
named, who seem to have had so few enemies, and to have
lost so few friends. None, certainly, were so universally
lamented. The closing scene of James Hervey's life was curiously
beautiful. He died, as he had lived for seventeen years, in the
full faith and peace of Christ's gospel. His life had long been
a continual struggle with disease ; and when his last illness
came upon him, it found him thoroughly prepared. Invalids
have one great advantage over strong people, at any rate — a
sudden accession of pains and ailments does not startle them,
and they are seldom taken by surprise. The holy rector of
Weston Favell had looked death in the face so long that he was
no stranger to him; and when he went down into the cold
waters of the great river, he walked calmly, quietly, and undis
turbed. Those glorious evangelical doctrines which he had
proclaimed and defended as truths while he lived, he found to
be strong consolations when he died.
His last attack of illness began in October 1758, and carried
him off on Christmas day. Disease of the lungs, with all its
distressing accompaniments, was the agent employed to take
down his earthly tabernacle; and he seems to have gone
through even more than the ordinary suffering which such

D YING SA YINGS. 353
disease entails. But nothing shook the dying sufferer's faith.
He had his days of conflict and inward struggle, like most of
Christ's faithful soldiers ; but he always came out more than
conqueror, through Him that loved him. An abundant entrance
into rest was ministered to him. He entered harbour at last,
not like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a broken plank, but
like a stately ship, with all her sails expanded, and wafted
forward by a prosperous gale.
The dying sayings of eminent saints, when God permits
them to say much, are always instructive. It was eminently
the case with James Hervey. Like dying Jacob, he was
enabled to speak to all around him, and to testify his deep
sense of the value of Christ's great salvation. Like Christiana,
in " Pilgrim's Progress," he was enabled to speak comfortably
to those who stood near him, and followed him to the river
side. To his doctor he wrote, at an early period of his last
illness : " I now spend almost all my whole time in reading
and praying over the Bible. Indeed, you cannot conceive how
the springs of life in me are relaxed, and relaxing. ' What thou
doest, do quickly,' is a proper admonition for me as I approach
dissolution. My dear friend, attend to' the one thing needful.
I have no heart to take any medicine ; all but Christ is to me
unprofitable. Blessed he God for pardon and salvation through
his blood ! Let me prescribe this for my dear friend. My
cough is very troublesome ; I can get little rest ; but my never-
failing remedy is the love of Christ.''
On the 15th of December — the month that he died — he
spoke very strongly to his curate, Mr. Maddock, about the
assurance of faith, and the great love of God in Christ. "Oh!"
said he, " how much has Christ done for me, and how little
have I done for so loving a Saviour ! If I preached even once
a week it was but a burden to me. I have not visited the
people of my parish as I ought to have done, and thus preached
from house to house. I have not taken every opportunity of
(195) 23

354 LAST WORDS.
speaking for Christ. Do not think I am afraid to die. I assure
you I am not. I know what my Saviour has done for me.
I want to be gone. But I wonder and lament to think of the
love of Christ in doing so much for me, and how little I have
done for him ! "
On the 25th of December— the day that he died— his loving
friend and physician, Dr. Stonehouse, came to see him about
three hours before he expired. Hervey seized the opportunity,
spoke strongly and affectionately to him about his soul's con
cerns, and entreated him not to be overcharged with the cares
of this life. Seeing his great weakness and prostration, the
doctor begged him to spare himself. "No, doctor," replied
the dying man, with ardour, " no ! You tell me I have but a
few minutes to live ; let me spend them in adoring our great
Redeemer." He then repeated the words, " Though my heart
and my flesh fail, God is the strength of my heart, and my
portion for ever ;" and also dwelt, in a delightful manner, on
St. Paul's words, " All things are yours ; whether life, or things
present, or things to come." "Here," he exclaimed, "here is
the treasury of a Christian ! Death is reckoned among this
inventory ; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful I am for
death, as it is the passage through which I go to the Lord and
Giver of eternal life, and as it frees me from all the misery
which you see me now endure, and which I am willing to
endure as long as God thinks fit ! I know that he will by-and-
by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These
light afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an
eternal weight of glory. Oh, welcome, welcome death ! Thou
mayst well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian !
To live is Christ, and to die is gain !" After this he lay for a
considerable time without seeming to breathe, and his friends
thought he was gone. But he revived a little, and, being raised
in his chair, said : — " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart
in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable words ;

ESTLMATE OF HIS WORTH. 355
for mine eyes have seen thy most holy and comfortable salva
tion ! Here, doctor, is my cordial. What are all the cordials
given to support the dying, in comparison of that which arises
from the promises of salvation by Christ ? This, this supports
me ! "
He said little after this, and was rapidly drawing near his end.
About three o'clock in the afternoon he said : " The conflict is
over; now all is done." After that time he scarcely spoke any
thing intelligible, except the words, " Precious salvation!" At
last, about four o'clock, without a sigh or a groan, he shut his
eyes and departed, on Christmas-day 1758, in the forty-fifth year
of his age. Never, perhaps, was there a more triumphant
illustration of the saying of a great spiritual champion of the
last century, — " The world may not like our methodists and
evangelical people, but the world cannot deny that they die
well!" I leave James Hervey here, having traced his history from his
cradle to his grave. He was a man of whom the world was not
worthy, and one to whom even the Church of God has never
given his due measure of honour. I am well aware that he was
not perfect. I do not pretend to say that I can subscribe
entirely to everything he wrote, either about the nature of faith
or about assurance; but whatever his faults and defects, I do
believe that he was one of the holiest and best ministers in Eng
land a hundred years ago, and that he did a work in his time
which will be seen to have borne good fruit in the last
great day.
I know well that Hervey was only a writer, and nothing but
a writer. I know well that the value of his works has almost
passed away. Like our old wooden three-deckers, they did
good service in their time, but are now comparatively obsolete
and laid aside. But I believe the day will never come when the
Church will not require pens as well as tongues, able writers as
well as able preachers; and I venture to think it would be well

356 TESTIMONY OF WILLIAM ROMAINE,
for the Church of our day, if we had a few more hard students
and careful writers of the stamp of James Hervey. I therefore
boldly claim for him a high place among the spiritual heroes of
tne last century. Let us admire Whitefield and Wesley; but
let us not grudge Hervey his crown. He deserves to be had in
remembrance. I now conclude this sketch with a few testimonies to Hervey's
merits, which, to say the least, demand serious attention. The
witnesses are all men of mark, and men who had many oppor
tunities of weighing the merits of preachers and writers. Let
us hear what they thought of the subject before us, the rector
of Weston Favell.
My first witness shall be William Romaine. He says : " I
never saw one who came up so near to the Scripture character
of a Christian, as Mr. Hervey. God enriched him with great
gifts and great graces. He had a fine understanding and a great
memory. He was very well skilled in Hebrew, and an excellent
critic in Greek. — There was great experience of heart-love upon
his tongue. He used to speak of the love of the adorable
Redeemer like one who had seen him face to face in the fulness
of his glory. As to his writings, I leave them to speak for
themselves. They stand in no need of my praises."
My next witness shall be Henry Venn. He says : " Mr.
Hervey was the most extraordinary man I ever saw in my life,
as much beyond most of the excellent as the swan for white
ness and stately figure is beyond the common fowl. His
Meditations and Contemplations deserve your most sincere
regard. You may look upon them as you would upon Aaron's
rod, by which such wonders were wrought. These Thoughts
have been the means of giving sight to the blind, life to souls
dead in trespasses and sins, and winning the young, the gay,
and the rich, to see greater charms in a crucified Saviour than
in all that dazzles vain minds."
My next witness shall be Cowper the poet He says : " Per-

VENN, COWPER, &>c. 357
haps I may be partial to Hervey; but I think him one of the
most Scriptural writers in the world."
My next witness shall be Richard Cecil. He says : " Let us
do the world justice. It has seldom found considerate, gentle,
but earnest, heavenly, and enlightened teachers. When it has
found such, truth has received a very general attention. Such
a man was Hervey, and his works have met their reward."
My next witness shall be the late Edward Bickersteth. He
says : " Few books have been so useful as Hervey's ' Theron
and Aspasio;' though like every human writing, it is not free
from error. But, with a few exceptions, the clear statements of
divine truth in the book, and the Christian addresses of the
author, full of kindness and affection, gentleness and sweetness
of spirit, draw out your best feelings, and win you over to evan
gelical principles."
My last witness shall be Daniel Wilson, Bishop of Calcutta.
He says in his Journal, July 24, 1846: "I have been reading
tranquilly and pleasantly a volume of Hervey's Letters, full of
that thorough devotedness of heart, deadness to all earthly
things, and longings after grace and holiness, which character
ized the leaders of the revival in our church. — Oh ! that the
spirit of Hervey might pervade our younger clergy and myself.
To walk with God is the only spring of happiness and use
fulness." Testimonies like these deserve serious attention. My firm
belief is, that they are well deserved.

XII.
®op[abg anb Ijxs Ijjthwsirg.
Born at Farnham, 1740— Ordained, ^62— Vicar of Broad Hembury, Devonshire, 1768—
Removes to London, 1775 — Dies, 1778 — Conversion, 1756 — His Preaching— His Writ
ings as a Controversialist — His Hymns. N
PERFECT orchestra contains many various instru
ments of music. Each of these instruments has its
own merit and value; but some of them are curiously
unlike others. Some of them are dependent on a player's
breath, and some on his skill of hand. Some of them are large,
and some of them are small. Some of them produce very
gentle sounds, and some of them very loud. But all of them
are useful in their place and way. Composers like Handel, and
Mozart, and Mendelssohn, find work for all. There is work
for the flageolet as well as for the trumpet, and work for the
violoncello as well as for the organ. Separately and alone,
some of the instruments may appear harsh and unpleasant.
Combined together and properly played, they fill the ear with
one mighty volume of harmonious sounds.
Thoughts such as these come across my mind when I survey
the spiritual champions of England a hundred years ago. I see
among the leaders of religious revival in that day men of singu
larly varied characteristics. They were each in their way emi
nent instruments for good in the hands of the Holy Ghost.
From each of them sounded forth the word of God throughout
the land with no uncertain sound. Yet some of these good
men were strangely compounded, peculiarly constituted, and

BIRTH OF AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY. 359
oddly framed. And to none, perhaps, does the remark apply
more thoroughly than to the subject of these remarks, the well-
known hymn-writer, Augustus Toplady.
I should think no account of English religion in the last cen
tury complete which did not supply some information about this
remarkable man. In some respects, I am bold to say, not one
of his contemporaries surpassed him, and hardly any equalled
him. He was a man of rare grace and gifts, and one who left
his mark very deeply on his own generation. For soundness
in the faith, singleness of eye, and devotedness of life, he de
serves to be ranked with Whitefield, or Grimshaw, or Romaine.
Yet with all this, he was a man in whom there was a most
extraordinary mixture of grace and infirmity. Hundreds, un
happily, know much of his infirmities who know little of his
graces. I shall endeavour in the following pages to supply
a few materials for forming a just estimate of his character.
Augustus Montague Toplady was born at Farnham, in Surrey,
on the 4th of November 1740. He was the only son of Major
Richard Toplady, who died at. the siege of Carthagena shortly
after his birth, so that he never saw his father. His mother's
maiden name was Catherine Bates, of whom nothing is known
except that she had a brother who was rector of St. Paul's,
Deptford. About the history of his family I can discover
nothing. I only conjecture that some of them must have been
natives of Ireland. Who his parents were, and what they
were doing at Farnham, when he was born, and what kind of
people they were, are all matters about which no record seems
to exist.
Few spiritual heroes of the last century, I must freely con
fess, have suffered more from the want of a good biographer
than Toplady. Be the cause what it may, a real life of the
man was never written. The only memoir of him is as meagre
a production as can possibly be conceived. It is perhaps only
fair to remember that he was an only child, and that he died

36° HIS ORDINATION.
unmarried; so that he had neither brother, sister, son nor
daughter, to gather up his remains. Moreover, he was one
who lived much in his study and among his books, spent
much time in private communion with God, and went very
little into society. Like Romaine, he was not what the world
would call a genial man — had very few intimate friends — and
was, probably, more feared and admired than loved. But be
the reasons what they may, the fact is undeniable that there
is no good biography of Toplady. The result is, that there is
hardly any man of his calibre in the last century of whom so
very little is known.
The principal facts of Toplady's life are few, and soon told.
He was brought up by his widowed mother "with the utmost
care and tenderness, and retained throughout life a deep and
grateful sense of his obligations to her. For some reason,
which we do not know now, she appears to have settled at
Exeter after her husband's death; and to this circumstance
we may probably trace her son's subsequent appointment to
cures of souls in Devonshire. Young Toplady was sent at an
early age to Westminster School, and showed considerable
ability there. After passing through Westminster, he was
entered as a student of Trinity College, Dublin, and took his
degree there as Bachelor of Arts. He was ordained a clergy
man in the year 1762; but I am unable to ascertain where, or
by what bishop he was ordained. Shortly after his ordination
he was appointed to the living of Blagdon, in Somersetshire,
but did not hold it long. He was then appointed to Venn-
Ottery, with Harpford, in Devonshire, a small parish near Sid-
mouth. This post he finally exchanged, in 1768, for the rural
parish of Broad Hembury, near Honiton, in Devonshire, a
cure which he retained until his death. In the year 1775 he
was compelled, by the state of his health, to remove from
Devonshire to London, and became for a short time preacher
at a Chapel in Orange Street, Leicester Square. He seems,

HIS CONVERSION. 36 1
however, to have derived no material benefit from the change
of climate ; and at last died of decline, like Walker and Hervey,
in the year 1778, at the early age of thirty-eight.
The story of Toplady's inner life and religious history is
simple and short; but it presents some features of great interest.
The work of God seems to have begun in his heart, when he
was only sixteen years old, under the following circumstances.
He was staying at a place called Codymain, in Ireland, and
was there led by God's providence to hear a layman named
Morris preach in a barn. The text — Ephesians ii. 13, "Ye
who sometimes were far off are made nigh by the blood of
Christ " — and the address founded on it, came home to young
Toplady's conscience with such power, that from that time he
became a new man, and a thorough-going professor of vital
Christianity. This was in August 1756.
He himself in after-life referred frequently to the circum
stance of his conversion with special thankfulness. He says
in 1768: "Strange that I, who had so long sat under the
means of grace in England, should be brought nigh to God in
an obscure part of Ireland, amidst a handful of God's people
met together in a barn, and under the ministry of one who
could hardly spell his name ! Surely it was the Lord's doing,
and is marvellous ! The excellency of such power must be of
God, and cannot be of man. The regenerating Spirit breathes
not only on whom, but likewise when, where, and as he listeth."
Although converted and made a new creature in Christ
Jesus, Toplady does not seem to have come to a full know
ledge of the gospel in all its perfection for at least two years.
Like most of God's children, he had to fight his way into full
light through many defective opinions, and was only by slow
degrees brought to complete establishment in the faith. His
experience in this matter, be it remembered, is only that of the
vast majority of true Christians. Like infants, when they are
born into the world, God's children are not born again in the

362 GRADUALL Y ENLIGHTENED.
full possession of all their spiritual faculties ; and it is well
and wisely ordered that it is so. What we win easily, we sel
dom value sufficiently. The very fact that believers have to
struggle and fight hard before they get hold of real soundness
in the faith, helps to make them prize it more when they have
attained it. The truths that cost us a battle are precisely
those which we grasp most firmly, and never let go.
Toplady's own account of his early experience on this point
is distinct and explicit. He says : "Though awakened in 1756,
I was not led into a clear and full view of all the doctrines of
grace till the year 1758, when, through the great goodness of
God, my Arminian prejudices received an effectual shock in
reading Dr. Manton's sermons on the seventeenth chapter of
St. John. I shall remember the years 1756 and 1758 with
gratitude and joy in the heaven of heavens to all eternity."
In the year 1774, Toplady gave the following curious account
of his experience at this period of his life : — " It pleased God
to deliver me from the Arminian snare before I was quite
eighteen. Up to that period there was not (I confess it with
abasement) a more haughty and violent free-wilier within the
compass ofthe four seas. One instance of my warm and ignorant
zeal occurs now to my memory. About a year before divine
goodness gave me eyes to discern and a heart to embrace the
truth, I was haranguing one day in company on the universality
of grace and the power of free agency. A good old gentleman,
now with God, rose from his chair, and coming to me, held me
by one of my coat-buttons, while he mildly said : — ' My dear
sir, there are marks of spirituality in your conversation, though
tinged with an unhappy mixture of pride and self-righteousness.
You have been speaking largely in favour of free-will ; but from
arguments let us come to experience. Do let me ask you one
question, How was it with you when the Lord laid hold on you
in effectual calling? Had you any hand in obtaining that
grace? Nay, would you not have resisted and baffled it, if

CALVINISTIC IN HIS VIEWS. 363
Cod's Spirit had left you alone in the hand of your own counsel? '
— I felt the conclusiveness of these simple but forcible interro
gations more strongly than I was then willing to acknowledge.
But, blessed be God, I have since been enabled to acknowledge
the freeness of his grace, and to sing, what I trust will be my
everlasting song, ' Not unto me, Lord, not unto me; but unto thy
name give the glory.' "
From this time to the end of his life, a period of twenty years,
Toplady held right onward in his Christian course, and never
seems to have swerved or turned aside for a single day. His
attachment to Calvinistic views of theology grew with his
growth, and strengthened with his strength, and undoubtedly
made him think too hardly of all who favoured Arminianism.
It is more than probable, too, that it gave him the reputation
of being a narrow-minded and sour divine, and made many
keep aloof from him, and depreciate him. But no one ever
pretended to doubt his extraordinary devotedness and single
ness of eye, or to question his purity and holiness of life. From
one cause or another, however, he appears always to have stood
alone, and to have had little intercourse with his fellow-men.
The result was, that throughout life he appears to have been
little known and little understood, but most loved where he was
most known.
One would like much to hear what young Toplady was doing
between the date of his conversion in 1756, and his ordination
in 1762. We can only guess, from the fact that he studied
Manton on the seventeenth of John before he was eighteen, that
he was probably reading hard, and storing his mind with know
ledge, which he turned to good account in after-life. But there
is an utter dearth of all information about our hero at this period
of his life. We only know that he took upon himself the office
of a minister, not only as scholar, and as an outward professor
of religion, but as an honest man. He says himself, that " he
subscribed the articles and liturgy from principle ; and that he

364 LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON.
did not believe them merely because he subscribed them, but
subscribed them because he believed them."
One would like, furthermore, to know exactly where he began
his ministry, and in what parish he was first heard as a preacher
of the gospel. But I can find out nothing about these points.
One interesting fact about his early preaching I gather from a
curious letter which he wrote to Lady Huntingdon in 1774. In
that letter he says : " As to the doctrines of special and dis
criminating grace, I have thus much to observe. For the first
four years after I was in orders, I dwelt chiefly on the general
outlines of the gospel in this remote corner of my public
ministry. I preached of little else but of justification by faith
only, in the righteousness and atonement of Christ, and of that
personal holiness without which no man shall see the Lord.
My reasons for thus narrowing the truths of God were these
two (I speak it with humiliation and repentance) : — 1. I thought
these points were sufficient to convey as clear an idea as was
absolutely necessary of salvation ; 2. And secondly, I was partly
afraid to go any further.
" God himself (for none but he could do it) gradually freed
me from that fear. And as he never at any time permitted me
to deliver, or even to insinuate anything contradictory to his
truth, so has he been graciously pleased, for seven or eight
years past, to open my mouth to make known the entire
mystery ofthe gospel, as far as his Spirit has enlightened me
into it. The consequence of my first plan of operations was,
that the generality of my hearers were pleased, but only few
were converted. The result of my latter deliverance from
worldly wisdom and worldly fear is, that multitudes have been
very angry ; but the conversions which God has given me reason
to hope he has wrought, have been at least three for one before.
Thus I can testify, so far as I have been concerned, the useful
ness of preaching predestination ; or, in other words, of tracing
salvation and redemption to their first source."

READY-MADE SERMONS. 365
An anecdote related by Toplady himself deserves repetition,
as a curious illustration of the habits of clergymen at the time
when he was ordained, and his superiority to the habits of his
contemporaries. He says : " I was buying some books in the
spring of 1762, a month or two before I was ordained, from a
very respectable London bookseller. After the business was
over, he took me to the furthest end of his long shop, and said
in a low voice, ' Sir, you will soon be ordained, and I suppose
you have not laid in a very great stock of sermons. I can
supply you with as many sets as you please, all original, very
excellent ones, and they will come for a trifle.' My answer
was : ' I certainly shall never be a customer to you in that way ;
for I am of opinion that the man who cannot, or will not
make his own sermons, is quite unfit to wear the gown. How
could you think of my buying ready-made sermons ? I would
much sooner buy ready-made clothes." His answer shocked
me. ' Nay, young gentleman, do not be surprised at my offer
ing you ready-made sermons, for I assure you I have sold ready-
made sermons to many a bishop in my time.' My reply was :
' My good sir, if you have any concern for the credit of the
Church of England, never tell that news to anybody else hence
forward for ever.' "
The manner of Toplady's life, during the fifteen or sixteen
years of his short ministry may be gathered from a diary which
he wrote in 1768, and kept up for about a year. This diary is
a far more interesting record of a good man's life than such
documents ordinarily are, and gives a very favourable impression
of the writer's character and habits. It leaves the impression
that he was eminently a man of one thing, and entirely engrossed
with his Master's business — much alone, keeping little company,
and always either preaching, visiting his people, reading, writing,
or praying. If it had been kept up for a few years longer, it
would have thrown immense light on many things in Toplady's
ministerial history. But even in its present state it is the most

366 HIS LOVE OF STUDY.
valuable record we possess about him, and there seems no
reason to doubt that it is a tolerably accurate picture of his
mode of living from the time of his ordination to his death.
So little is known of the particular events of the last fifteen
years of Toplady's life, that it is impossible to do more than
give a general sketch of his proceedings. He seems to have
attained a high reputation at a very early date as a thorough
going supporter of Calvinistic opinions, and a leading opponent
of Arminianism. His correspondence shows that he was on
intimate terms with Lady Huntingdon, Sir R. Hill, Whitefield,
Romaine, Berridge, Dr. Gill, Ambrose Serle, and other eminent
Christians of those times. But how and when he formed ac
quaintance with them, we have no information. His pen was
constantly employed in defence of evangelical religion from the
time of his removal to Broad Hembury in 1768. His early
habits of study were kept up with unabated diligence. No man
among the spiritual heroes of last century seems to have read
more than he did, or to have had a more extensive knowledge
of divinity. His bitterest adversaries in controversy could never
deny that he was a scholar, and a ripe one. Indeed, it admits
of grave question whether he did not shorten his life by his
habits of constant study. He says himself, in a letter to a
relative, dated March 19, 1775: — "Though I cannot entirelyagree
with you in supposing that extreme study has been the cause
of my late indisposition, I must yet confess that the hill of
science, like that of virtue, is in some instances climbed with
labour. But when we get a little way up, the lovely prospects
which open to the eye make infinite amends for the steepness
of the ascent. In short, I am wedded to these pursuits, as a
man stipulates to take his wife ; viz., for better, for worse, until
death us do part. My thirst for knowledge is literally inextin
guishable. And if I thus drink myself into a superior world, I
cannot help it."
One feature in Toplady's character, I may here remark, can

REMOVES TO LONDON. 367
hardly fail to strike an attentive reader of his remains. That
feature is the eminent spirituality of the tone of his religion.
There can be no greater mistake than to regard him as a
mere student and deep reader, or as a hard and dry contro
versial divine. Such an estimate of him is thoroughly unjust.
His letters and remains supply abundant evidence that he
was one who lived in very close communion with God, and
had very deep experience of divine things. Living much
alone, seldom going into society, and possessing few friends,
he was a man little understood by many, who only knew him
by his controversial writings, and specially by his unflinching
advocacy of Calvinism. Yet really, if the truth be spoken, I
hardly find any man of the last century who seems to have
soared so high and aimed so loftily, in his personal dealings
with his Saviour, as Toplady. There is an unction and savour
about some of his remains which few of his contemporaries
equalled, and none surpassed. I grant freely that he left behind
him many things which cannot be much commended. But he left
behind him some things which will live, as long as English is
spoken, in the hearts of all true Christians. His writings contain
" thoughts that breathe and words that burn," if any writings
of his age. And it never ought to be forgotten, that the man who
penned them was lying in his grave before he was thirty-nine !
The last three years of Toplady's life were spent in London.
He removed there by medical advice in the year 1775, under
the idea that the moist air of Broad Hembury was injurious to
his health. Whether the advice was sound or not may now,
perhaps, admit of question. At any rate, the change of climate
did him no good. Little by little the insidious disease of the
chest, under which he laboured, made progress, and wasted his
strength. He was certainly able to preach at Orange Street
Chapel in the years 1776 and 1777; but it is equally certain
that throughout this period he was gradually drawing near to
his end. He was never, perhaps, more thoroughly appreciated

368 HIS LAST ADDRESS.
than he was during these last three years of his ministry. A
picked London congregation, such as he had, was able to
value gifts and powers which were completely thrown away on
a rural parish in Devonshire. His stores of theological reading
and distinct doctrinal statement were rightly appraised by his
metropolitan hearers. In short, if he had lived longer he might,
humanly speaking, have done a mighty work in London. But
He who holds the stars in his right hand, and knows best
what is good for his Church, saw fit to withdraw him soon
from his new sphere of usefulness. He seemed as if he came
to London only to be known and highly valued, and then to die.
The closing scene of the good man's life was singularly beau
tiful, and at the same time singularly characteristic. He died
as he had lived, in the full hope and peace of the gospel, and
with an unwavering confidence in the truth of the doctrines
which he had for fifteen years advocated both with his tongue
and with his pen. About two months before his death he was
greatly pained by hearing that he was reported to have receded
from his Calvinistic opinions, and to have expressed a desire to
recant them in the presence of Mr. John Wesley. So much
was he moved by this rumour, that he resolved to appear
before his congregation once more, and to give a public
denial to it before he died. His physician in vain remonstrated
with him. He was told that it would be dangerous to make
the attempt, and that he might probably die in the pulpit. But
the vicar of Broad Hembury was not a man to be influenced by
such considerations. He replied that " he would rather die in
the harness than die in the stall." He actually carried his
resolution into effect. On Sunday, June the 14th, in the last
stage of consumption, and only two months before he died, he
ascended his pulpit in Orange Street Chapel, after his assistant
had preached, to the astonishment of his people, and gave a
short but affecting exhortation founded on 2 Pet. i. 13, 14 : "I
think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up

HIS LA ITER DA YS. 369
by putting you in remembrance." He then closed his address
with the following remarkable declaration : —
" It having been industriously circulated by some malicious
and unprincipled persons that during my present long and
severe illness I expressed a strong desire of seeing Mr. John
Wesley before I die, and revoking some particulars relative to
him which occur in my writings, — Now I do publicly and most
solemnly aver that I have not nor ever had any such intention
or desire ; and that I most sincerely hope my last hours will be
much better employed than in communing with such a man.
So certain and so satisfied am I of the truth of all that I have
ever written, that were I now sitting up in my dying bed with a
pen and ink in my hand, and all the religious and controversial
writings I ever published, especially those relating to Mr. John
Wesley and the Arminian controversy, whether respecting fact
or doctrine, could be at once displayed to my view, I should
not strike out a single line relative to him or them.''
The last days of Toplady's life were spent in great peace. He
went down the valley of the shadow of death with abounding
consolations, and was enabled to say many edifying things to
all around him. The following recollections, jotted down by
friends who ministered to him, and communicated to his bio
grapher, can hardly fail to be interesting to a Christian reader.
One friend observes : — "A remarkable jealousy was apparent
in his whole conduct as he drew near his end, for fear of receiv
ing any part of that honour which is due to Christ alone.
He desired to be nothing, and that Jesus might be all and in all.
His feelings were so very tender upon this subject, that I once
undesignedly put him almost in an agony by remarking the great
loss which the Church of Christ would sustain by his death at
this particular juncture. The utmost distress was immediately
visible in his countenance, and he exclaimed, ' What ! by my
death ? No, no ! Jesus Christ is able, and will, by proper
instruments, defend his own truths. And with regard to what
(195) 24

37° HIS FIRM CONFIDENCE.
little I have been enabled to do in this way, not to me, not to
me, but to his own name, and to that only, be the glory.'
" The more his bodily strength was impaired the more vigor
ous, lively, and rejoicing his mind seemed to be. From the
whole turn ofhis conversation during our interview, he appeared
not merely placid and serene, but he evidently possessed the
fullest assurance of the most triumphant faith. He repeatedly
told me that he had not had the least shadow of a doubt
respecting his eternal salvation for near two years past. It is
no wonder, therefore, that he so earnestly longed to be dissolved
and to be with Christ. His soul seemed to be constantly
panting heavenward, and his desire increased the nearer his
dissolution approached. A short time before his death, at his
request, I felt his pulse, and he desired to know what I thought
of it. I told him that his heart and arteries evidently beat
almost every day weaker and weaker. He replied immediately,
with the sweetest smile on his countenance, ' Why, that is a
good sign that my death is fast approaching ; and, blessed be
God, I can add that my heart beats every day stronger and
stronger for glory.'
"A few days before his dissolution I found him sitting up in
his arm-chair, but scarcely able to move or speak. I addressed
him very softly, and asked if his consolations continued to abound
as they had hitherto done. He quickly replied, ' O my dear
sir, it is impossible to describe how good God is to me. Since
I have been sitting in this chair this afternoon I have enjoyed
such a season, such sweet communion with God, and such
delightful manifestation of his presence with and love to my
soul, that it is impossible for words or any language to express
them. I have had peace and joy unutterable, and I fear not
but that God's consolation and support will continue.' But he
immediately recollected himself, and added, ' What have I
said? God may, to be sure, as a sovereign, hide his face and
his smiles from me ; however, I believe he will not ; and if he

HIS DEATH. 371
should, yet will I trust him. I know I am safe and secure, for
his love and his covenant are everlasting !'"
To another friend, speaking about his dying avowal in the
pulpit of his church in Orange Street, he said : " My dear
friend, these great and glorious truths which the Lord in rich
mercy has given me to believe, and which he has enabled me
(though very feebly) to defend, are not, as those who oppose
them say, dry doctrines or mere speculative points. No ! being
brought into practical and heartfelt experience, they are the
very joy and support of my soul ; and the consolations flowing
from them carry me far above the things of time and sense.
So far as I know my own heart, I have no desire but to be
entirely passive, to live, to die, to be, to do, to suffer whatever
is God's blessed will concerning me, being perfectly satisfied
that as he ever has, so he ever will do that which is best con
cerning me, and that he deals out in number, weight, and
measure, whatever will conduce most to his own glory and to
the good of his people."
Another of his friends mentioning the report that was spread
abroad of his recanting his former principles, he said with some
vehemence and emotion, " I recant my former principles ! God
forbid that I should be so vile an apostate ! " To which he
presently added, with great apparent humility, " And yet that
apostate I should soon be, if I were left to myself."
Within an hour of his death, he called his friends and his
servant to him, and asked them if they could give him up.
Upon their answering that they could, since it pleased the Lord
to be so gracious to him, he replied : " Oh, what a blessing it
is that you are made willing to give me up into the hands of
my dear Redeemer, and to part with me ! It will not be long
before God takes me ; for no mortal man can live, after the
glories which God has manifested to my soul." Soon after this
he closed his eyes, and quietly fell asleep in Christ on Tuesday,
August 11, 1778, in the thirty-eighth year ofhis age.

372 HIS BURIAL.
He was buried in Tottenham Court Chapel, under the gal
lery, opposite the pulpit, in the presence of thousands of people,
who came together from all parts of London to do him honour.
His high reputation as a champion of truth, the unjust misre
presentations circulated about his change of opinion, his effec
tiveness as a preacher, and his comparative youthfulness,
combined to draw forth a more than ordinary expression of
sympathy. " Devout men carried him to his burial, and made
great lamentation over him," Foremost among the mourners
was one at that time young in the ministry, who lived long
enough to be a connecting link between the last century
and the present — the well-known and eccentric Rowland Hill.
Before the burial-service commenced, he could not refrain from
transgressing one of Toplady's last requests, that no funeral-
sermon should be preached for him, and affectionately declared
to the vast assembly the love and veneration he felt for the
deceased, and the high sense he entertained of his graces, gifts,
and usefulness. And thus, amidst the tears and thanksgivings
of true-hearted mourners, the much-abused vicar of Broad Hem
bury was gathered to his people.*
The following passage from Toplady's last will, made and
signed six months before his decease, is so remarkable and
characteristic, that I cannot refrain from giving it to my readers :
" I most humbly commit my soul to Almighty God, whom I
honour, and have long experienced to be my ever gracious and
infinitely merciful Father. Nor have I the least doubt of my
election, justification, and eternal happiness, through the riches
of his everlasting and unchangeable kindness to me in Christ
Jesus, his co-equal Son, my only, my assured, and my all-suffi
cient Saviour ; washed in whose propitiatory blood, and clothed
with whose imputed righteousness, I trust to stand perfect,

* It is a curious fact that Toplady expressly desired that he might be buried at least
nine feet, and, if possible, twelve feet, under ground 1 He assigned no reason. Perhaps
it was because he wished to be buried inside his church.

Q UO TA TION FR OM HIS WILL. 373
sinless, and complete ; and do verily believe that I most cer
tainly shall so stand, in the hour of death, and in the kingdom
of heaven, and at the last judgment, and in the ultimate state
of endless glory. Neither can I write this my last will without
rendering the deepest, the most solemn, and the most ardent
thanks to the adorable Trinity in Unity, for their eternal,
unmerited, irreversible, and inexhaustible love to me a sinner.
I bless God the Father for having written from everlasting my
unworthy name in the book of life — even for appointing me to
obtain salvation through Jesus Christ my Lord. I adore God
the Son for having vouchsafed to redeem me by his own most
precious death, and for having obeyed the whole law for my
justification. I admire and revere the gracious benignity of
God the Holy Ghost, who converted me to the saving know
ledge 'of Christ more than twenty-two years ago, and whose
enlightening, supporting, comforting, and sanctifying agency is,
and (I doubt not) will be my strength and song in the hours of
my earthly pilgrimage.''
Having now traced Toplady's history from his cradle to his
grave, it only remains for me to offer some general estimate of
his worth and attainments. To do this, I frankly confess, is no
easy task. Not only is his biography a miserably deficient one
— this alone is bad enough — but his literary remains have been
edited in such a slovenly, careless, ignorant manner, without
order or arrangement, that the"y do not fairly represent the
author's merits. Certainly the reputation of great writers and
ministers may suffer sadly from the treatment of injudicious
friends. If ever there was a man who fell into the hands of the
Philistines after his death, that man, so far as I can judge, was
Augustus Toplady. I shall do the best I can with the mate
rials at my disposal ; but I trust my readers will remember that
they are exceedingly scanty.
r. As a preacher, I should be disposed to assign to Toplady
a very high place among the second-class men of the last een-

374 TOPLAD Y AS A PRE A CHER.
tury. His constitutional delicacy and weakness of lungs, in all
probability, made it impossible for him to do the things that
Whitefield and Berridge did. Constant open-air addresses,
impassioned extempore appeals to thousands of hearers, were
a style of thing entirely out of his line. Yet there is pretty good
evidence that he had no mean reputation as a pulpit orator,
and possessed no mean powers. The mere fact that Lady
Huntingdon occasionally selected him to preach in her chapels
at Bath and Brighton, of itself speaks volumes. The additional
fact that at one of the great Methodist gatherings at Trevecca
he was put forward as one of the leading preachers, is enough
to show that his sermons possessed high merit. The follow
ing notes about preaching, which he records in his diary, as
having received them from an old friend, will probably throw
much light on the general turn of his ministrations : — (i.) Preach
Christ crucified, and dwell chiefly on the blessings resulting
from his righteousness, atonement, and intercession. (2.) Avoid
all needless controversies in the pulpit ; except it be when your
subject necessarily requires it, or when the truths of God are
likely to suffer by your silence. (3.) When you ascend the
pulpit, leave your learning behind you : endeavour to preach
more to the hearts of your people than to their heads. (4.) Do
not affect much oratory. Seek rather to profit than to be
admired. '
Specimens of Toplady's ordinary preaching are unfortunately
very rare. There are but ten sermons in the collection of his
works, and out of these the great majority were preached on
special occasions, and cannot, therefore, be regarded as fair
samples of his pulpit work. In all of them there is a certain
absence of fire, animation, and directness. But in all there is
abundance of excellent matter, and a quiet, decided, knock
down, sledge-hammer style of putting things which, I can well
believe, would be extremely effective, and especially with edu
cated congregations. The three following extracts may perhaps

EXTRA CT FROM SERMON. 3 7 5
give some idea of what Toplady was in the pulpit of Orange
Street Chapel. Of his ministry in Broad Hembury, I suspect
we know next to nothing at all.
The first extract forms the conclusion of a sermon preached
in 1774 at the Lock Chapel, entitled " Good News from
Heaven :" — " I perceive the elements are upon the sacramental
table. And I doubt not many of you mean to present your
selves at that throne of grace which God has mercifully erected
through the righteousness and sufferings of his co-equal Son.
Oh, beware of coming with one sentiment on your lips and
another in your hearts ! Take heed of saying with your mouths,
' We do not come to this thy table, O Lord, trusting in our
own righteousness,' while perhaps you have in reality some
secret reserves in favour of that very self-righteousness which
you profess to renounce, and are thinking that Christ's merits
alone will not save you unless you add something or other to
make it effectual. Oh, be not so deceived ! God will not thus
be mocked, nor will Christ thus be insulted with impunity.
Call your works what you will — whether terms, causes, condi
tions, or supplements— the matter comes to the same point,
and Christ is equally thrust out of his mediatorial throne by
these or any similar views of human obedience. If you do not
wholly depend on Jesus as the Lord your righteousness — if you
mix your faith in him with anything else — if the finished work
ofthe crucified God be not alone your acknowledged anchor
and foundation of acceptance with the Father, both here and
ever — come to his table and receive the symbols of his body
and blood at your peril ! Leave your own righteousness behind
you, or you have no business here. You are without the wed
ding garment, and God will say to you, ' Friend, how camest
thou here?' If you go on, moreover, to live and die in this
state of unbelief, you will be found speechless and excuseless in
the day of judgment ; and the slighted Saviour will say to his
angels concerning you, ' Bind him hand and foot, and cast him

376 SERMON ON FREE WILL.
into outer darkness, .... for many are called, but few are
chosen." My second extract is from a sermon on " Free Will," preached
at St. Anne's, Blackfriars, in 1774: — "I know it is growing
very fashionable to talk against spiritual feelings. But I dare
not join the cry. On the contrary, I adopt the apostle's
prayer that our love to God and the manifestation of his love
to us may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all
feeling. And it is no enthusiastic wish in behalf of you and
myself, that we may be of the number of those godly persons
who, as our Church justly expresses it, ' feel in themselves the
workings of the Spirit of Christ, mortifying the works of the
flesh, and drawing up their minds to high and heavenly things.'
Indeed, the great business of God's Spirit is to draw up and to
bring down — to draw up our affections to Christ, and to bring
down the unsearchable riches of grace into our hearts. The
knowledge of this, and earnest desire for it, are all the feelings
I plead for ; and for these feelings I wish ever to plead, satis
fied as I am that without some experience and enjoyment of
them we cannot be happy living or dying.
" Let me ask you, as it were one by one, has the Holy Spirit
begun to reveal these deep things of God in your soul ? If so,
give him the glory of it. And as you prize communion with
him, as ever you value the comforts of the Holy Ghost, endea
vour to be found in God's way, even the highway of humble
faith and obedient love, sitting at the feet of Christ, and im
bibing those sweet sanctifying communications of grace which
are at once an earnest of and a preparation for complete heaven
when you die. God forbid that we should ever think lightly of
religious feelings. If we do not in some measure feel ourselves
sinners, and feel that Christ is precious, I doubt the Spirit of
God has never been savingly at work upon our souls."
My last extract shall be from a sermon preached at St. Anne's,
Blackfriars (Romaine's church, be it remembered), in 1770,

TOPLADY AS A WRITER. 377
entitled, "A Caveat against Unsound Doctrine:" — "Faith is
the eye of the soul, and the eye is said to see almost every
object but itself; so that you may have real faith without being
able to discern it. God will not despise the day of small things.
Little faith goes to heaven no less than great faith ; though not
so comfortably, yet altogether as surely. If you come merely
as a sinner to Jesus, and throw yourself, at all events, for salva
tion on his alone blood and righteousness, and the grace and
promise of God in him, thou art as truly a believer as the most
triumphant saint that ever lived. Amidst all your weakness,
distresses, and temptations, remember that God will not cast
out nor cast off the meanest and unworthiest soul that seeks
salvation only in the name of Jesus Christ the righteous. When
you cannot follow the Rock, the Rock shall follow you, nor
ever leave you for a single moment on this side the heavenly
Canaan. If you feel your absolute want of Christ, you may on
all occasions and in every exigence betake yourself to the
covenant-love and faithfulness of God for pardon, sanctification,
and safety, and with the same fulness of right and title as a
traveller leans upon his own staff, or as a weary labourer throws
himself upon his own bed, or as an opulent nobleman draws
upon his own banker for whatsoever sum he wants."
I make no comment on these extracts. They speak for
themselves. Most Christians, I suspect, will agree with me,
that the man who could speak to congregations in this fashion
was no ordinary preacher. The hearers of such sermons could
never say, " The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed." I
am bold to say that the Church of the nineteenth century would
be in a far more healthy condition if it had more preaching like
Toplady's. 2. As a writer of miscellaneous papers on religious subjects, I
do not think Toplady has ever been duly appreciated. His pen
seems to have been never idle, and his collected works contain
a large number of short useful essays on a great variety of sub-

37 8 TOPLADY AS A CONTROVERSIALIST.
jects. Any one who takes the trouble to look at them will be
surprised to find that the worthy vicar of Broad Hembury was
conversant with many things beside the Calvinistic contro
versy, and could write about them in a very interesting manner.
He will find short and well-written biographies of Bishop Jewell,
Bishop Carleton, Bishop Wilson, John Knox, Fox the Martyr-
ologist, Lord Harrington, AVitsius, Allsop, and Dr. Watts. He
will find a very valuable collection of extracts from the works
of eminent Christians, and of anecdotes, incidents, and historical!
passages, gathered by Toplady himself. He will find a sketch
of natural history, and some curious observations on birds,
meteors, animal sagacity, and the solar system. These papers,
no doubt, are of various merit ; but they all show the singular
activity and fertility of the author's mind, and are certainly far
more deserving of republication than many of the reprints of
modern days. Of Toplady's " Family Prayers " I shall say
nothing. They are probably so well known that I need not
commend them. Of his seventy-eight letters to friends, I will
only say that they are excellent specimens of the correspondence
of the last century — sensible, well composed, full of thought and
matter, and supplying abundant proof that their writer was a
Christian, a scholar, and a gentleman. I cannot, however, do
more than refer to all these productions of Toplady's pen.
Those who wish to know more must examine his works for
themselves. If they do, I venture to predict that they will
agree with me that his miscellaneous writings are neither suffi
ciently known nor valued.
3. As a controversialist, I find it rather difficult to give a right
estimate of Toplady. In fact, the subject is a painful one, and
one which I would gladly avoid. But I feel that I should not
be dealing fairly and honestly with my readers, if I did not say
something about it. In fact, the vicar of Broad Hembury took
such a very prominent part in the doctrinal controversies of last
century, and was so thoroughly recognized as the champion

HIS WRITINGS SOUND AND SCRIPTURAL. 379
and standard-bearer of Calvinistic theology, that no memoir of
him could be regarded as complete, which did not take up this
part of his character.
I begin by saying that, on the whole, Toplady's controversial
writings appear to me to be in principle scriptural, sound, and
true. I do not, for a moment, mean that I can endorse all he
says. I consider that his statements are often extreme, and
that he is frequently more systematic and narrow than the Bible.
He often seems to me, in fact, to go further than Scripture, and
to draw conclusions which Scripture has not drawn, and to
settle points which for some wise reason Scripture has not
settled. Still, for all this, I will never shrink from saying that
the cause for which Toplady contended all his life was decidedly
the cause of God's truth. He was a bold defender of Calvinistic
views about election, predestination, perseverance, human im
potency, and irresistible grace. On all these subjects I hold
firmly that Calvin's theology is much more scriptural than the
theology of Arminius. In a word, I believe that Calvinistic
divinity is the divinity of the Bible, of Augustine, and of the
Thirty-nine Articles of my own Church, and of the Scotch Con
fession of Faith. While, therefore, I repeat that I cannot
endorse all the sentiments of Toplady's controversial writings,
I do claim for them the merit of being in principle scriptural,
sound, and true. Well would it be for the Churches, if we had
a good deal more of clear, distinct, sharply-cut doctrine in the
present day ! Vagueness and indistinctness are marks of our
degenerate condition.
But I go further than this. I do not hesitate to say that
Toplady's controversial works display extraordinary ability.
For example, his " Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism
of the Church of England" is a treatise that displays a prodi
gious amount of research and reading. It is a book that no
one could have written who had not studied much, thought
much, and thoroughly investigated an enormous mass of theo-

380 HIS VIOLENT LANGUAGE.
logical literature. You see at once that the author has
completely digested what he has read, and is able to concen
trate all his reading on every point which he handles. The
best proof of the book's ability is the simple fact that down to
the present day it has never been really answered. It has been
reviled, sneered at, abused, and held up to scorn. But abuse
is not argument. The book remains to this hour unanswered,
and that for the simplest of all reasons, that it is unanswerable.
It proves irrefragably, whether men like it or not, that Calvinism
is the doctrine of the Church of England, and that all her lead
ing divines, until Laud's time, were Calvinists. All this is done
logically, clearly, and powerfully. No one, I venture to think,
could read the book through, and not feel obliged to admit that
the author was an able man.
While, however, I claim for Toplady's controversial writings
the merit of soundness and ability, I must with sorrow admit
that I cannot praise his spirit and language when speaking of his
opponents. I am obliged to confess that he often uses expres
sions about them so violent and so bitter, that one feels per
fectly ashamed. Never, I regret to say, did an advocate of
truth appear to me so entirely to forget the text, " In meekness
instructing those that oppose themselves," as the vicar of Broad
Hembury. Arminianism seems to have precisely the same
effect on him that a scarlet cloak has on a bull. He appears to
think it impossible that an Arminian can be saved, and never
shrinks with classing Arminians with Pelagians, Socinians,
Papists, and heretics. He says things about Wesley and Sellon
which never ought to have been said. All this is melancholy
work indeed ! But those who are familiar with Toplady's con
troversial writings know well that I am stating simple truths.
I will not stain my paper nor waste my readers' time by sup
plying proofs of Toplady's controversial bitterness. It would be
very unprofitable to do so. The epithets he applies to his
adversaries are perfectly amazing and astonishing. It must in

A BEACON TO THE CHURCH. 381
fairness be remembered that the language of his opponents was
exceedingly violent, and was enough to provoke any man. It
must not be forgotten, moreover, that a hundred years ago men
said things in controversy that were not considered so bad as
they are now, from the different standard of taste that prevailed.
Men were perhaps more honest and outspoken than they are now,
and their bark was worse than their bite. But all these considera
tions only palliate the case. The fact remains, that as a contro
versialist Toplady was extremely bitter and intemperate, and
caused his good to be evil spoken of. He carried the principle,
" Rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith,"
to an absurd extreme. He forgot the example of his Master,
who " when he was reviled, reviled not again ;" and he entirely
marred the value of his arguments by the violence and uncharit-
ableness with which he maintained them. Thousands who
neither cared nor understood anything about his favourite cause,
could understand that no cause ought to be defended in such a
spirit and temper.
I leave this painful subject with the general remark, that
Toplady is a standing beacon to the Church, to show us the
evils of controversy. " The beginning of strife is like letting
out water." " In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin."
We must never shrink from controversy, if need be, in defence
of Christ's gospel, but we must never take it up without jealous
watchfulness over our own hearts, and over the manner in which
we carry it on. Above all, we must strive to think as charitably
as possible of our opponent. It was Calvin himself who said of
Luther, " He may call me a devil if he will ; but I shall always
call him a good servant of Jesus Christ." Well would it have
been for Toplady's reputation, if he had been more like Calvin !
Perhaps when we open our eyes in heaven we shall be amazed
to find how many things there were which both Calvinists and
Arminians did not thoroughly understand.
4. There is only one point about Toplady on which I wish

382 TOPLADY AS A HYMN- WRITER.
to say something, and that is his character as a hymn-writer.
This is a point, I am thankful to say, on which I find no diffi
culty at all. I give it as my decided opinion that he was one
of the best hymn-writers in the English language. I am
quite aware that this may seem extravagant praise ; but I
speak deliberately. I hold that there are no hymns better than
his. Good hymns are an immense blessing to the Church of
Christ. I believe the last day alone will show the world the
real amount of good they have done. They suit all, both rich
and poor. There is an elevating, stirring, soothing, spiritualizing,
effect about a thoroughly good hymn, which nothing else can
produce. It sticks in men's memories when texts are forgotten.
It trains men for heaven, where praise is one of the principal
occupations. Preaching and praying shall one day cease for
ever ; but praise shall never die. The makers of good ballads
are said to sway national opinion. The writers of good hymns,
in like manner, are those who leave the deepest marks on the
face of the Church. Thousands of Christians rejoice in the
" Te Deum," and " Just as I am," who neither prize the Thirty-
nine Articles, nor know anything about the first four councils,
nor understand the Athanasian Creed.
But really good hymns are exceedingly rare. There are only
a few men in any age who can write them. You may name
hundreds of first-rate preachers for one first-rate writer of hymns.
Hundreds of so-called hymns fill up our collections of congre
gational psalmody, which are really not hymns at all. They
are very sound, very scriptural, very proper, very correct, very
tolerably rhymed ; but they are not real, live, genuine hymns.
There is no life about them. At best they are tame, pointless,
weak, and milk-and-watery. In many cases, if written out
straight, without respect of lines, they would make excellent
prose. But poetry they are not. It may be a startling asser
tion to some ears to say that there are not more than two

THEIR BEAUTY AND PATHOS. 383
hundred first-rate hymns in the English language ; but startling
as it may sound, I believe it is true.
Of all English hymn-writers, none, perhaps, have succeeded
so thoroughly in combining truth, poetry, life, warmth, fire,
depth, solemnity, and unction, as Toplady has. I pity the man
who does not know, or, knowing, does not admire those glorious
hymns of his beginning, " Rock of Ages, cleft for me ;" or,
"Holy Ghost, dispel our sadness;" or, "A debtor to mercy
alone;" or, "Your harps, ye trembling saints;" or, "Christ,
whose glory fills the skies;" or, "When languor and disease
invade ;" or, " Deathless principle, arise." The writer of these
seven hymns alone has laid the Church under perpetual obliga
tions to him. Heretics have been heard in absent moments
whispering over " Rock of Ages," as if they clung to it when
they had let slip all things beside. Great statesmen have been
known to turn it into Latin, as if to perpetuate its fame. The
only matter of regret is, that the writer of such excellent hymns
should have written so few. If he had lived longer, written
more hymns, and handled fewer controversies, his memory would
have been had in greater honour, and men would have been
better pleased.
That hymns of such singular beauty and pathos should have
come from the same pen which indited such bitter controversial
writings, is certainly a strange anomaly. I do not pretend to
explain it, or to offer any solution. I only lay it before my
readers as a naked fact. To say the least, it should teach us
not to be hasty in censuring a man before we know all sides
of his character. The best saints of God are neither so very
good, nor the faultiest so very faulty, as they appear. He that
only reads Toplady's hymns will find it hard to believe that he
could compose his controversial writings. He that only reads his
controversial writings will hardly believe that he composed his
hymns. Yet the fact remains, that the same man composed both.
Alas ! the holiest among us all is a very poor mixed creature !

384 A GREAT AND GOOD MAN.
I now leave the subject of this chapter here. I ask my
readers to put a favourable construction on Toplady's life, and
to judge him with righteous judgment. I fear he is a man who
has never been fairly estimated, and has never had many friends.
Ministers of his decided, sharply-cut, doctrinal opinions are
never very popular. But I plead strongly that Toplady's undeni
able faults should never make us forget his equally undeniable
excellencies. With all his infirmities, I firmly believe that
he was a good man and a great man, and did a work for Christ
a hundred years ago, which will never be overthrown. He will
stand in his lot at the last day in a high place, when many,
perhaps, whom the world liked better shall be put to shame.

XIII.
Jfletcfftr of gtabden anb fjis ipnisirn.

CHAPTER I.
Born in Switzerland, 1729— Educated at Geneva and Leutzburg — Wishes to be a Soldier —
Becomes a Tutor in England, 1750 — Private Tutor in Mr. Hill's Family, r752 — Be
comes Acquainted with Methodists — Inward Conflict — Ordained 1757 — Vicar of
Madeley, 1760 — Correspondence with Charles Wesley and Lady Huntingdon.
BELIEVE that no one ever reads his Bible with atten
tion without being struck with the deep beauty of the
fourteenth chapter of St. John's gospel. I suspect
that few readers of that marvellous chapter fail to notice the
wondrous saying of our Lord, " In my Father's house are many
mansions : if it were not so, I would have told you." Cold and
dull must be the heart that is not roused and stirred by these
words. This beautiful saying, of late years, has been painfully wrested
from its true meaning. Men of whom better things might have
been expected, have misapplied it sadly, and imposed a false
sense on it. They have dared to say that men of all faiths and
creeds will find a place in heaven at last ; and that " every man
shall be saved by the law or sect which he professeth, so that
he be diligent to frame his mind according to that law and the
light of nature." They would fain have us believe that the
inhabitants of heaven will be a mixed body, including heathen
idolaters and Mohammedans as well as Christians, and compris-
(195) 25

386 OUR FATHER'S HOUSE.
ing members of every religious denomination in the world, how
ever opposite and antagonistic their respective opinions may tie.
Miserable indeed is such theology ! Wretched is the prospect
which it holds out to us of eternity 1 Small could be the har
mony in such a heterogeneous assembly ! At this rate, heaven
would be no heaven at all.
But we must not allow human misinterpretations to make us
overlook great truths. It is true, in a most comfortable sense,
that " in our Father's house there are many mansions," and that
all who are washed in Christ's blood, and renewed by Christ's
Spirit, will find a place in heaven, though they may not see eye
to eye upon earth. There is room in our Father's house for all
who hold the Head, however much they may differ on points
of minor importance. There is room for Calvinists and room
for Arminians, room for Episcopalians and room for Presby
terians, room for Thomas Cranmer and room for John Knox,
room for John Bunyan and room for George Herbert, room for
Henry Martyn and room for Dr. Judson, room for Edward
Bickersteth and room for Robert M'Cheyne, room for Chalmers
of Edinburgh, and room for Daniel Wilson of Calcutta. Yes !
thank God, our Father's house is a very wide one. There is
room in it for all who are true-hearted believers in the Lord
Jesus Christ.
Thoughts such as these come crowding over my mind as I
take up my pen to write an account of the eleventh spiritual
hero of the eighteenth century, whom I want to introduce to my
readers. The man whom I mean is the well-known Fletcher,
vicar of Madeley. I cannot forget that there was a doctrinal
gulf between him and my last hero, Toplady, and that while one
was a Calvinist of Calvinists, the other was an Arminian of
Arminians. But I will never shut my eyes to the fact that
Fletcher was a Christian as well as an Arminian. Mistaken, as
I think he was, on some points, he was certainly thoroughly
right on others. He was a man of rare grace, and a minister of

BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER. 387
rare usefulness. In short, I think that no account of English
religion a hundred years ago could be considered just, fair,
and complete, which did not supply some information about
Fletcher of Madeley.
John William Fletcher was a native of Switzerland, and was
born at Nyon, in that country, on the 12th of September 1729.
His real name was De La Flechiere, and he is probably known
by that name among his own countrymen to this day. In
England, however, he was always called Fletcher, and, for con
venience' sake, I shall only speak of him by that name. His
father was first an officer in the French army, and afterwards a
colonel in the militia of his own country. The family is said
to have been one of the most respectable in the canton of
Berne, and a branch of an earldom of Savoy.
Fletcher appears to have been remarkable for cleverness even
when a boy. At the first school which he went to at Geneva,
he carried away all the prizes, and was complimented by the
teachers and managers in a very flattering manner. During his
residence at Geneva, his biographer records that " he allowed
himself but little time either for recreation, refreshment, or rest.
After studying hard all day, he would often consume the greater
part ofthe night in writing down whatever had occurred in the
course of his reading which seemed worthy of observation.
Here he acquired that true classical taste which was so frequently
and justly admired by his friends, and which all his studied
plainness could never entirely conceal. Here, also, he laid the
foundation of that extensive and accurate knowledge for which
he was afterwards distinguished, both in philosophy and theo
logy." From Geneva his father sent him to a small Swiss town called
Leutzburg, where he not only acquired the German language,
but also diligently prosecuted his former studies. On leaving
Leutzburg, he continued some time at home, studying the
Hebrew language, and perfecting his acquaintance with mathe-

388 WISHES TO BE A SOLDIER.
maties. Such was Fletcher's early training and education. I
ask the reader's special attention to it. It supplies one among
many proofs that those who call the leaders of the English
revival of religion in the last century "poor, ignorant, illiterate
fanatics," are only exposing their own ignorance. They know
neither what they say, nor whereof they affirm. In the mere
matter of learning, Wesley, Romaine, Berridge, Hervey, Top
lady, and Fletcher, were second to few men in their day.
Young Fletcher's education being completed, his parents
hoped that he would at once turn his attention to the ministry,
a profession for which they considered him to be eminently
well fitted. In this expectation, however, they were at first
curiously disappointed. Partly from a sense of unfitness, partly
from scruples about the doctrine of predestination, young
Fletcher announced that he had given up all idea of being
ordained, and wished to go into the army. His theological
studies were laid aside for the military works of Vauban and
Cohorn, and, in spite of all the remonstrances of his friends, he
seemed determined to become a soldier.
This strange determination, however, was frustrated by a
singular train of providences. The same overruling hand which
would not allow Jonah to go to Tarshish, and sent him to
Nineveh in spite of himself, was able to prevent the young
Swiss student carrying out his military intentions. At first, it
seems, on his parents flatly refusing their consent to his entering
the army, young Fletcher went away to Lisbon, and, like many
of his countrymen, offered his services to a foreign flag. At
Lisbon, on his offer being accepted, he soon gathered a com
pany of Swiss recruits, and engaged a passage on board a Por
tuguese man-of-war which was about to sail for Brazil. He then
wrote to his parents, asking them to send him money, but met
with a decided refusal. Unmoved by this, he determined to go
without the money, as soon as the ship sailed. But, on the
morning that he ought to have put to sea, the servant at break-

OBTAINS A TUTORSHIP. 339
fast let the kettle fall and scalded his leg so severely that he had
to keep his bed for a considerable time. In the meanwhile the
ship sailed for Brazil, and, curiously enough, was never heard of
any more !
Fletcher returned to Switzerland, in no wise shaken or deterred
by his Lisbon disappointment. Being informed that his uncle,
then a colonel in the Dutch service, had procured a commission
for him, he joyfully set out for Flanders. But just at that time
a peace was concluded, and the continental armies were reduced ;
and his uncle dying shortly after, his expectations were com
pletely blasted, and he gave up all thought of being a soldier.
Being now disengaged from business, and all military pros
pects seeming completely at an end, young Fletcher thought it
would not be amiss to spend a little time in England. He
arrived in this country, almost totally ignorant of our language,
sometime in the year 1750, and began at once to inquire for
some one who could instruct him in the English tongue. For
this purpose he was recommended to a boarding-school, kept
by a Mr. Burchell, at South Mimms, and afterwards at Hatfield,
in Hertfordshire. With this gentleman he remained eighteen
months, and not only acquired a complete mastery of English,
but also became exceedingly popular as a clever, amiable, and
agreeable man, both in his tutor's family and throughout the
neighbourhood in which he resided. While staying at Mr.
Burchell's, Mr. Dechamps, a French minister to whom he had
been recommended, procured him the situation of private tutor
in the family of Mr. Hill of Tern Hall, in Shropshire. His
acceptance of this post in the year 1752, in the twenty-second
year of his age, was the turning-point in his life, and affected
his whole course, both spiritually and temporally, to the very end
of his days.
Up to this time, there is not the slightest evidence that
Fletcher knew anything of spiritual and experimental religion.
As a well-educated man, he was of course acquainted with the

39° REBUKED BY A SERVANT.
facts and evidences of Christianity. But he appears to have
been profoundly ignorant of the inward work of the Holy Ghost,
and of the distinctive doctrines of the gospel of Christ. Hap
pily for him, he seems to have been carefully and morally brought
up, and to have had a good deal of religion of a certain sort
when he was a boy. From an early period of life, he was
familiar with the letter of Scripture, and to this circumstance he
traced his preservation from infidelity, and from many vices into
which young men too often fall. Beside this, a succession of
providential escapes from death, which his biographers have
carefully recorded, undoubtedly had a restraining effect upon
him. Nevertheless, there is no reason to think that he really
experienced a work of grace in his heart until he had been
some time an inmate of Mr. Hill's house. Up to this time he
had, after a fashion, believed in God and feared God ; but he
had never felt his love in Christ Jesus shed abroad in his. heart
by the Holy Ghost. He had never really seen his own sinful
ness, nor the preciousness of Christ's atoning blood.
The first thing which awakened Fletcher to a right conviction
of his fallen state, was the simple remark of a servant in Mr.
Hill's household. This man, coming up into his room one
Sunday evening, in order to make up the fire, found him writing
some music, and, looking at him with concern, said, " Sir, I am
sorry to see you so employed on the Lord's day." At first his
pride was aroused and his resentment moved, to hear a reproof
given by a servant. But, upon reflection, he felt the reproof
was just, put away his music, and from that very hour became
a strict observer of the Lord's day. How true is that word of
Solomon, " Reproofs of instruction are the way of life ! " (Prov.
vi. 23.)
The next step in his spiritual history was his becoming ac
quainted with the people called Methodists. The way in which
this was brought about he afterwards related to John Wesley,
in the following words: — "When Mr. Hill went to London to

JOINS THE METHODISTS. 39 l
attend Parliament, he took his family and me with him. On
one occasion, while they stopped at St. Alban's, I walked out
into the town, and did not return till they were set out for
London. A horse being left for me, I rode after them and
overtook them in the evening. Mr. Hill asked me why I stayed
behind. I said, ' As I was walking I met with a poor old
woman, who talked so sweetly of Jesus Christ, that I knew not
how the time passed away' Said Mrs. Hill, ' I shall wonder if
our tutor does not turn Methodist by-and-by.' ' Methodist,
madam,' said I ; ' pray what is that ? ' She replied, ' Why, the
Methodists are a people that do nothing but pray ; they are
praying all day and all night' 'Are they?' said I; 'then, by
the help of God, I will find them out, if they be above ground.'
I did find them out not long after, and was admitted into the
society." The third important step in Fletcher's spiritual history was
hearing those clergymen who were called Methodists preach
about faith. Under the influence of newly awakened feelings,
he had begun to strive diligently to make himself acceptable to
God by his doings. But hearing a sermon one day preached
by a clergyman named Green, he became convinced that he did
not understand the nature of saving faith. This conviction was
only attained through much humiliation of soul. " Is it possible,"
he thought, " that I, who have always been accounted so reli
gious, who have made divinity my study, and received the pre
mium oi piety (so-called) from a Swiss university for my writings
on divine subjects — is it possible that I should yet be so igno
rant as not to know what faith is?" But the more he examined
himself and considered the subject, the more he was convinced
of the momentous truth. The more he saw his sinfulness, and
the entire corruption and depravity of his whole nature, the
more his hope of being able to reconcile himself to God by his
own works began to die away. He still sought, by the most
rigorous austerities, to conquer this evil nature, and to bring

392 INWARD STRUGGLES.
into his soul a heaven-born peace. But alas ! the more he strove
the more he saw and felt that all his soul was sinful. In short, like
Bunyan's Christian, before he saw the way to the wicket-gate, he
felt his imminent danger, and yet knew not which way to flee.
How long this inward struggle continued in Fletcher's mind
is not quite clear. It seems probable that it was at least two
years before his soul found peace and was set at liberty, and his
burden rolled away. Evangelists were rare in these days, and
there were few to help an anxious conscience into the light.
His diary shows that he went through an immense amount of
inward conflict. At one time we find him saying, " I almost
gave up all hope, and resolved to sin on and go to
hell." At another time he says, " If I go to hell, I
will serve God even there ; and since I cannot be an in
stance of his mercy in heaven, I will be a monument of his
justice in hell ; and if I show forth his glory one way or the
other, I am content." At another time he says, " I have re
covered my ground. I thought Christ died for all, and there
fore he died for me. He died to pluck such sinners as I am
as brands out of the burning. And as I sincerely desire to be
his, he will surely take me." At another time he records, " I
heard a sermon on justification by faith, but my heart was not
moved in the least. I was only still more convinced that I was
an unbeliever, that I am not justified by faith, and that till I
am, I shall never have peace with God." At another time he
says, " I have found relief in Mr. Wesley's journal, when I
heard that we should not build on what we feel, but go to Christ
with all our sins and all our hardness of heart."
Mental struggles like these are no strange things to many
of God's people. They are deep waters through which
some of the best and holiest saints have had to pass, in the
beginning of their journey towards heaven. John Bunyan's
little book called " Grace Abounding," is a striking account of
the inward agony which the author of "Pilgrim's Progress" had

OBTAINS PEACE. 393
to endure before he found peace. There are many points of
resemblance between his experience and that of Fletcher. It is
a pleasant thought, however, that sooner or later these painful
struggles end in solid peace. The greater the conflict at first,
the greater sometimes is the peace at the last. The men that
God intends to use most as instruments to do his work, are
often tempered for his service by being frequently put into the
fire. The truths that we have got hold of by tremendous
exertion are precisely the truths which we afterwards grasp most
firmly, and proclaim most positively and powerfully. The man
who has embraced the doctrine of justification by faith alone,
through a hand-to-hand fight with Satan, and a contest even
unto death, is precisely the man to preach the doctrine to his
fellow-men with unction, with demonstration of the Spirit, and
with crushing power. This was the experience of that mighty
evangelist, George Whitefield. This was the experience of
Fletcher of Madeley.
Once set free from the burden of sin unforgiven, and feeling
the blessedness of peace with God, we need not wonder that
Fletcher longed to tell others of the way to life. Long before
he was ordained a minister, he began to speak to others about
their souls, according as he had opportunity. Both in London,
when he accompanied Mr. Hill, and even during the sitting of
Parliament, and in the neighbourhood of Tern Hall, he seized
every occasion of trying to do spiritual good. And even at this
early period his labours were not in vain. His biographer says :
" Though he was at present by no means perfect in the English
tongue, particularly in the pronunciation of it, yet the earnest
ness with which he spoke, then seldom to be found in English
preaching, and the unspeakably tender affection to poor, un
done sinners, which breathed in every word and question, drew
multitudes of people to hear him, and few went empty away''
We can easily understand that Fletcher's views about taking
orders now went through a complete change. Little by little

394 HIS ORDINATION.
his doubts, and fears, and scruples as to his fitness for the
ministerial office melted away. Correspondence with John
Wesley encouraged him to go forward with the idea of being
ordained. Difficulties which seemed likely at one time to put
an insuperable barrier in his way, were unexpectedly removed.
A gentleman whom he hardly knew offered him a living which
was likely to be soon vacant. A clergyman whom he had never
even spoken to, of his own accord offered him a title to orders;
and at length, in the year 1757, he was ordained deacon on
Sunday the 6th of March, and priest on the following Sunday,
by the Bishop of Bangor, in the Chapel Royal at St. James's.
How Fletcher got over the difficulty of being a foreigner, and
of not having taken an University degree, I am unable to ex
plain. I can only suppose that the influence of the family of
the Hills, in which he was still tutor, made a bishop of those
days ready to ordain him as a " literate person." On what
title he was ordained, I am also unable to say. But, putting
things together, I conjecture that he was nominated curate
of Madeley, the parish of which he afterwards became vicar.
The whole matter of his ordination seems to have been attended
with strange irregularities, judged by the standard of the present
day. But things were strangely managed in the Church of
England a hundred years ago.
With characteristic energy, Fletcher lost no time in beginning
the work of the ministry. The very day that he was ordained
priest, he came straight from the Chapel Royal to West Street
Chapel, and assisted John Wesley in the administration of the
Lord's Supper. Throughout the next two months, until Mr.
Hill's family left London for Shropshire, he preached in many
London pulpits both in the English and French language,
according as he had opportunity. Labouring in this way, he
soon became well known as a fellow-labourer of the leading evan
gelists of the day, and rapidly attained a very high reputation.
In the month of May 1757 he went down into Shropshire

KETA1NS HIS TUTORSHIP. 395
with Mr. Hill's family, and found comparatively few openings
for the exercise of His ministry. In fact, a friend says that he
did not preach more than six times in six months ; partly, no
doubt, from his time being occupied with the education of his
young pupils, and partly, in all probability, because the Shrop
shire clergy were afraid of him, and would not admit him into
their pulpits. The only churches in which he preached were
Atcham, Wroxeter, Madeley, and St. Alkmunds, and the Abbey
Church, Shrewsbury.
Whatever the cause may have been, I cannot discover that
Fletcher had any regular stated ministerial work for the first
three years after his ordination. From March 1757 to the
latter part of 1760, he seems to have retained his position as
tutor in Mr. Hill's family, and in that capacity to have gone
regularly to London for one part of the year, and to have been
generally in Shropshire for the other. Wherever he was, he
appears to have found time for itinerating and preaching a good
deal, and it is only natural to suppose that he was not required
to devote himself entirely to the superintendence of Mr. Hill's
sons. I must confess my inability to trace out Fletcher's history
very accurately during the first three years of his ministry. The
memoirs of men of that day are so often written with a reckless
neglect of dates, that at this distance of time it is impossible to
follow their movements. Sometimes I read of his being at
Bristol, preaching for John Wesley at Kingswood ; sometimes I
find him in London, preaching in Lady Huntingdon's drawing-
room ; sometimes he is at Brighton, occupying the pulpit of
Lady Huntingdon's Chapel ; sometimes he is at Tunbridge,
preaching to French prisoners ; sometimes he is itinerating
about the country, and appearing in all sorts of strange and
unexpected places. But the order and reasons of his move
ments during these three years are matters which I cannot pre
tend to explain. One thing only is very clear. He became

396 INTERVIEW WITH BERRIDGE OF EVERTON.
notorious as a public supporter of the great religious revival of
which Lady Huntingdon was the mainspring, and formed
friendships with all its leading agents which lasted till death.
It was about this period of his life that Fletcher became
acquainted with the famous Berridge of Everton. This took
place under such singular circumstances that I shall give them
at length in the words of Lady Huntingdon's biographer. It
appears that he went to Everton vicarage uninvited and unex
pectedly, and " introduced himself as a raw convert who had
taken the liberty to wait on Berridge for the benefit of his in
struction and advice. From his accent and manner the shrewd
vicar of Everton perceived at once that he was a foreigner, and
inquired from what country he came. ' I am a Swiss, from the
canton of Berne,' was the reply. ' From Berne!' said Berridge ;
' then probably you can give me some account of a young fel
low-countryman of yours, one John Fletcher, who has lately
preached a few times for Mr. Wesley, and of whose talents,
learning, and piety, he speaks in high terms. Do you know
him ? ' ' Yes, sir,' said Fletcher ; ' I know him intimately ; and
did the Messrs. Wesley know him as well as I do, they would
not speak of him in such terms, for which he is more obliged
to their partial friendship than to his own merits.' ' You sur
prise me,' said Berridge, ' by speaking so coldly of a country
man in whose praise they are so warm.' ' I have the best
reason,' he rejoined, ' for speaking as I do, for I am myself
John Fletcher.' ' If you are John Fletcher,' said his host,
' you must do me the favour to take my pulpit to-morrow, and
when we are better acquainted, without implicitly receiving
either your statement or that of your friends, I shall be able to
judge for myself Thus commenced an intimacy between
Fletcher and Berridge, which no subsequent controversy could
ever entirely interrupt."
The turning-point in Fletcher's ministerial history was his
appointment to the vicarage of Madeley, in October 1760.

VICAR OF MADELEY. 397
Madeley is a large and unattractive parish near Wellington, in
Shropshire, containing at this time between eight and nine
thousand inhabitants, employed almost entirely in collieries and
ironworks. There is no reason to suppose that it was very dif
ferent a hundred years ago from what it is now, though the
population has probably increased. The circumstances under
which he obtained the living were very remarkable, and are well
described in his own letters.
The first link in the chain of providence which took him to
Madeley, was the offer of the living of Dunham in Cheshire by
his friend Mr. Hill. He told Fletcher that the parish was
small, the duty light, and the income good — ^400 a-year —
and that it was situated in a fine sporting country. After thank
ing Mr. Hill most cordially for his kindness, Fletcher replied,
" Alas, sir ! Dunham will not suit me. There is too much
money, and too little work." " Few clergymen make such
objections," said Mr. Hill ; " it is a pity to resign such a living,
as I do not know that I can find you another. What shall we
do ? Would you like Madeley ? " " That, sir, would be the very
place for me." " My object, Mr. Fletcher, is to make you
comfortable in your own way. If you prefer Madeley, I shall
find no difficulty in persuading Chambers, the present vicar, to
exchange it for Dunham, which is worth twice as much, and in
getting Madeley for you." In this way, curious as it now
appears, John Fletcher, in the month of October 1760, found
himself in the strange position of an English incumbent, and
vicar of a large parish in Shropshire.
He did not go to Madeley without many doubts and mis
givings. Not a few of his best friends thought it a move of
very questionable wisdom. Even now, one cannot help fancy
ing that his valuable life would have been longer, and his extra-
parochial usefulness greatly increased, if he had been content
with the lighter work and smaller population of Dunham. But
we must not forget that the " steps of a good man are ordered

398 CORRESPONDENCE WITH CHARLES WESLEY
by the Lord." It is place that often draws out grace. For
anything we know, Fletcher might have sunk into comparative
indolence and obscurity, if he had not been planted at Madeley.
His letters, however, at this period, show plainly that the move
was not made without great anxiety and exercise of soul.
To Charles Wesley he writes : " My heart revolts at the idea
of being at Madeley alone — opposed by my superiors, hated by
my neighbours, and despised by all the world ; without piety,
without talents, without resolution, how shall I repel the assaults
and surmount the obstacles which I foresee if I discharge my
duty at Madeley with fidelity? On the other hand, to reject
this presentation, burn the certificate, and leave in the desert
these sheep whom the Lord has evidently brought me into the
world to feed, appears to me nothing but obstinacy and refined
self-love. I will hold a middle course between these extremes.
I will be wholly passive in the steps I must take, and yet active
in praying the Lord to deliver me from the evil one, and to
conduct me in the way that he would have me go. If you can
see anything better, inform me of it speedily ; and at .the same
time remember me in all your prayers, that if this matter be not
of the Lord, the enmity of the Bishop of Lichfield — who must
countersign my testimonials, the threats of the Bishop of Here
ford's chaplain who was a witness to my preaching at West
Street Chapel, the objections drawn from my not being natural
ized, or some other obstacle, may prevent the kind intention of
Mr. Hill."
It is written that " when a man's ways please the Lord, he
maketh his enemies to be at peace with him." This text was
eminently illustrated in the matter of Fletcher's appointment to
Madeley Obstacles which at one time seemed insuperable,
melted away in a most extraordinary manner, and, almost in
spite of himself, he was instituted into possession of the living.
In a letter to Lady Huntingdon, on the 3rd of October, he says,
" I seem to be the prisoner of God's providence, who is going,

AND LADY HUNTINGDON. 399
in all probability, to cast my lot for life among the colliers and
forgemen of Madeley. The two thousand souls of that parish,
for whom I was called into the ministry, are many sheep in the
wilderness, which, after all, I cannot sacrifice to my own private
choice. When I was once suffered to attend them for a few
days, some began to return to the Shepherd of their souls, and
I found it in my heart to spend and be spent for them. When
I was afterwards sent away from them, that zeal, it is true,
cooled to such a degree that I have wished a thousand times
they might never be committed to my charge. But the impres
sion of the tears of those who, when I left them, ran after me
crying, ' Who shall now show us the way to heaven ?' never
quite wore off from the bottom of my heart ; and, upon second
thoughts, I always concluded that if the Lord made my way
plain to this church, I could not run away from it without dis
obeying the order of providence. That time is come, the
church is vacated, the presentation to it brought unasked into
my hands ; the difficulty of getting proper testimonials, which I
looked upon as insurmountable, vanishes at once; the three
clergymen who had opposed me with most bitterness signed
them; — the Bishop of Lichfield countersigns them without the
least objection; the lord of the manor, my great opponent,
leaves the parish ; and the very man, the vicar, who told me I
should never preach in that church, now recommends me to it,
and tells me he will induct me himself. Are not these intima
tions ofthe will of God?"
On the 28th of October 1760, he writes to Lady Huntingdon
as follows : — " Since I had the honour to write last, all the little
circumstances of my institution and induction have taken such
an easy turn that I question whether any clergyman noted for
good fellowship ever got over them with less trouble. I preached
last Sunday, for the first time, in my church, and shall con
tinue to do so, though I propose staying with Mr. Hill till he
leaves the country, partly to comply with him to the last, and

4°° FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE.
partly to avoid falling out with my predecessor, who is still at
Madeley, but who will remove about the same time. If I know
anything of myself, I shall be much more ready to resign my
benefice, when I have had a fair trial of my unprofitableness to
the people committed to my care, than I was to accept it.
Mr. John Wesley bids me do it without a trial. He will have
me see in this appointment to Madeley ' the snare of the devil,
and fly from it at the peril of my soul.' I answer, I cannot see
it in that light. He says, ' Others may do well in a living; you
cannot, for it is not your calling.' I tell him I readily own I
am not fit either to plant or water any part of the Lord's vine
yard, but that if I am called at all, I am called to preach at
Madeley, where I was first sent into the ministry, and where a
chain of providences I could not break has again fastened me.
I tell him, that though I should be as unsuccessful as Noah
before the flood, yet I am determined to try to be to them a
preacher of Christ's righteousness; and that, notwithstanding
my universal inability, I am not quite without hope that he who
reproved a prophet's madness by the mouth of an ass, may re
prove a collier's profaneness even by my mouth."
The doubts and misgivings with which Fletcher accepted the
living of Madeley, appear to have clung to him for several
months after he entered on the duties of his parish. Great
allowance must, of course, be made for the natural ignorance
of a young Swiss about the habits and customs of a neglected
mining population in England. But, judging from the three
following letters, he seems for some time to have gone through
great exercise of mind after commencing his residence at
Madeley. I make no excuse for inserting these letters at
length. On the 19th of November 1760, he writes to Lady Hunting
don as follows : — " I have hitherto written my sermons, but I
am carried so far beyond my notes when in the pulpit, that I
propose preaching with only my sermon-cover in my hand next

LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 401
Friday, when I shall venture on an evening lecture for the
first time. I question whether I shall have half-a-dozen hearers,
as the god of a busy world is doubly the god of this part
of. the world ; but I am resolved to try. The weather and
the roads are so bad, that the way to church is almost impracti
cable; nevertheless, all the seats were full last Sunday. Some
begin to come from the adjacent parishes, and some more, as
they say, threaten to come when the season permits. I can
not yet discern any deep work, or, indeed, anything but what
will always attend the crying down man's righteousness and
exalting Christ's — I mean a general liking among the poor,
and offence and ridicule and opposition among the respectable
and rich people. Should the Lord vouchsafe to plant the
gospel in this country, my parish seems to be the best centre
of a work, as it lies just among the most populous, profane,
and ignorant parts. But it is well if, after all, there is any
work in my parish. I despair of this when I look at myself,
and fall in with Mr. John Wesley's opinion about me. Yet
sometimes, too, I hope the Lord has not sent me here for
nothing; and I beg for strength to stand still and see the
salvation of the Lord. Nevertheless, I am still fully deter
mined to resign my living after a while, if the Lord does not
think me worthy to be his instrument. If your Ladyship could
at any time spare me a minute, I should be glad to know
whether you do not think I should then be at full liberty to
do it before God. I abhor the title of a living for a living's
sake. It is death to me.
" There are three meetings in my parish — a Papist, Quaker,
and Baptist ; and they begin to call the fourth the Methodist
one — I mean the church. But the bulk of the inhabitants
are stupid heathens, who seem past all curiosity, as well as
all sense of godliness. I am ready to run after them into
their pits and forges, and I only wait for God's providence to
show me the way I am often reduced to great perplexity,
(195) 26

402 FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE.
but the end of it is sweet I am driven to the Lord, and he
comforts, encourages, and teaches me. I sometimes feel that
zeal which forced Paul to wish to be accursed for his brethren's
sakes, but I want to feel it without interruption. The devil,
my friends, and my heart, have pushed hard at me to make
me fall into worldly cares, and creature snares — first by the
thought of marrying, then by the offer of several boarders, one
of whom offered me sixty pounds a-year; but I have been
enabled to cry, 'Nothing but Jesus, and the service of his
people;' and I trust the Lord will keep me in the same mind."
On the 6th of January 1761, he writes to Lady Huntingdon
again, even in a lower key and a more depressed frame of
mind. He says : — " I had a secret expectation to be the instru
ment of a work in this part of our Church, and I did not
despair of soon becoming a little Berridge ! Thus warmed
with sparks of my own kindling, I looked out to see the
rocks broken in pieces and the water flowing out; but, to the
great disappointment of my hopes, I am now forced to look
within, and to see the need I have of being broken, and of
repenting myself. If my being stationed in this howling wil
derness is to answer no public end as to the gospel of Christ,
I will not give up the hope that it may answer a private end as
to myself, in humbling me under a sense of universal unprofit
ableness. If I preach the gospel ten years here, and see no
fruit of my labours, in either case I promise to bless God, if I
can only say from my heart, ' I am nothing, I have nothing, I
can do nothing.'
" As to my parish, all that I see hitherto in it is nothing but
what one may expect from speaking plainly, and with some
degree of earnestness. Many cry out, ' He is a Methodist, a
downright Methodist;' while some of the poorer sort say, ' Nay,
but he speaketh the truth.' Some of the best farmers and most
respectable tradesmen talk often among themselves, I hear,
about turning me out of my living as a Methodist or a Baptist,

LETTER TO LADY HUNTINGDON. 4°3
and spread about such stories as your Ladyship may guess at
without my writing them. My Friday lecture took better than
I expected, and I propose to continue it till the congregation
desert me. The number of hearers then is larger than that
which my predecessor had on Sunday. The number of com
municants is increased from thirty to above a hundred, and a
few seem to seek grace in the means. May they do it in
sincerity !"
The last letter which I shall quote in this memoir was addressed
to Lady Huntingdon on the 27th of April 1761. He says: —
" I learn by slow experience, that in me dwelleth no good
thing. This I find cannot be learned of man, nor by man. It
is a lesson that grace alone teaches effectually in the furnace of
affliction. I am still at the first line; but I think I read it and
understand it in a manner quite different from what I did before.
Surely the Saviour speaks as no man ever spake ; and he teaches
with authority, not as the scribes. His words are recorded in
the heart, while those of men only graze the surface of the
understanding. I have met with several trials since Providence
cast me, I shall not say into this part of the Lord's vineyard,
but into this part of our spiritual Sodom. Nevertheless, they
did not work upon me as they ought to have done. I stood
out against them in a kind of self-resolution, supported by
human fortitude rather than divine humility; and so they did
not bring down the pride of nature, but rather increased it.
The old man, if he cannot have his own food, will live quietly
and comfortably on spiritual food ; yea, he is often pampered
by what the natural mind supposes will poison him.
" Of late I have met with a trial that, by God's infinite
mercy, has found its way to my heart. Oh, may the wound be
deep enough to let in the mind of Jesus ! A young woman,
daughter of one of my most substantial parishioners, giving
place to Satan by pride and impatience, is driven in her con
victions into a kind of madness. I could not bear patiently

'404 FLETCHER'S CORRESPONDENCE.
enough, before this, the reports that went about that I drove
people mad; but the fear of having this laid to my charge,
backed with so glaring an instance, has thrown me into some
agonies of soul.
" Why God permits these offences to arise, has not a little
staggered me. Once I was for taking to my heels, and hire
ling-like, flying at the first approach of the wolf. But, thanks
to divine grace, I now try to commit to the Lord the keeping
of his own work, and pray for a blind faith in him who calls
light out of darkness. Had not this trial staggered me, I
should have great hopes that a few living stones may be
gathered here for the temple of the Lord. There is a consider
able stir about religion in the neighbourhood ; and though
most people rise up against it, yet some begin to inquire in
earnest what they must do to be saved ; and some get a sight
of the way. My church is full, notwithstanding the oaths that
some of my parishioners have sworn never to hear me preach
again. I am insensibly led into exhorting sometimes in my
house and elsewhere. I preach on Sunday morning and Fri
day evening; and on Sunday evening, after catechising or
preaching to the children, I read one of the Homilies, or a
sermon of Archbishop Usher, insisting on all that confirms
what I advanced in the morning, which greatly stops the mouth
of the gainsayers, till God shall turn their hearts."
Such were the beginnings of Fletcher's ministry of Madeley.
His subsequent history would occupy far more room than can
be assigned to it in this chapter. How he persevered in his
evangelistic work at Madeley for twenty-five years — how he
became the principal of Lady Huntingdon's College at Tre
vecca — how his health broke down under the abundance of his
labours — how he lived on through evil report and good report —
how he married — how he died — how he preached and how he
wrote, — all these are matters which I think it best to reserve
for another distinct chapter.

DUTIES OF A PARISH CLERGYMAN. 405

CHAPTER II.
Ministerial Labours at Madeley — Superintendent of Trevecca College, 1768 — Resigns Tre
vecca, 1771 — Laid aside by ill health, 1776 — Goes to Clifton, Newington, and Switzer
land — Returns to Madeley, 1781 — Marries— Dies, 1785 — His Preaching — Writing —
Private Character — Testimony of Wesley and Venn.
The position of a parish clergyman in the Church of England
who does his duty, is one of peculiar difficulties and discourage
ments. He has not to deal with a voluntary congregation,
whose members have no connection with him beyond that of
free choice and inclination. He has the nominal charge of all
who reside within certain territorial boundaries, and, whether
they like him or not, in the eye of the law he is bound to do
what he can for their souls.
The larger the population of an English parish, the greater
are the English clergyman's difficulties. Many a clergyman
finds himself placed in the midst of dense masses of people
whose spiritual necessities he is utterly unable to overtake. He
sees around him hundreds of immortal souls continually pass
ing out of time into eternity — ignorant, immoral, without God,
without Christ, and without hope — and yet has neither time
nor strength to get at half of them ! A position like this is
dreadfully trying and crushing to the spirit of a conscientious
man. Yet this is the position in which Fletcher found him
self at Madeley. Who can wonder that at first he felt sorely
cast down, and half inclined to think, with Wesley, that he had
mistaken his calling ?
These first feelings of discouragement, however, gradually
passed away. Little by little he became fitted to his post, and
saw clearly that he was where God would have him be. Once
settled down in his work at Madeley, he never gave it up, and
for twenty-five years did the work of an evangelist among
his semi-heathen parishioners in a way that few have ever
equalled, and none probably have surpassed. No other cure

4°6 HIS MINISTERIAL LABOURS.
ever tempted him away. Where he began his ministry, there
he ended it. Madeley was his first charge, and Madeley was
his last.
The machinery which Fletcher used in doing his work at
Madeley was very simple and apostolic. He was instant in
season and out of season, always "preaching the Word."
Publicly in church, privately from house to house, by the road
side, in the fields, at the coal-pit mouth, he was continually
lifting up his voice, and " teaching and preaching Jesus Christ."
He counted the day lost in which he was not actually employed
in doing his Master's business. A warfare of holy aggression
on sin and Satan's kingdom was constantly kept up throughout
the district, and no one was let alone. So great indeed was his
zeal, that people who were determined to have their sins agreed
to lock their doors, and refuse him admission. Like Ahab,
they hated him because he did not speak good of their condi
tion, but evil. Even John Wesley, who thought him wrong in
going to Madeley, bore this testimony to his work : " From the
beginning of his settling there, he was a laborious workman in
the Lord's vineyard, endeavouring to spread the truth of the
gospel and to suppress vice in every possible way. Those sin
ners who tried to hide themselves from him he pursued to
every corner of his parish, by all sorts of means, public and
private, early and late, in season and out of season, entreating
and warning them to flee from the wrath to come. Some made
it an excuse for not attending the church service on a Sunday
morning, that they could not awake early enough to get their
families ready. He provided for this also. Taking a bell in
his hand, he set out every Sunday for some months at five in
the morning, and went round the most distant parts of the
parish inviting all the inhabitants to the house of God."
He found abundance of organized wickedness in his neglected,
overgrown parish. It was a common thing for young men and
women to meet in large bodies on stated evenings for what

HIS CARE OF THE SICK. 40J
they called " recreation." This recreation usually consisted in
dancing, drinking, revelling, and immorality, and continued
all night. Against these licentious assemblies Fletcher reso
lutely set his face, and used every exertion to put them down.
He would often burst suddenly into the room where the dis
orderly company were assembled, rebuke the thoughtless revel
lers with a holy indignation, and beard Satan in his high places.
Nor was his labour altogether in vain in this unpromising field.
After standing the first outbursts of rudeness and brutality, he
generally found his exhortations received with silent submission;
and in some cases he had the comfort of seeing a reformation
in the behaviour of the revellers.
Cases of sickness in a mining district like Madeley were
necessarily very frequent, and coal-pit accidents, we need not
doubt, were very many and often fatal. In attending such cases
Fletcher was peculiarly zealous and indefatigable. " It was a
work," says Wesley, " for which he was always ready. If he
heard a knock at his door in the coldest winter night, his win
dow was thrown open in a moment. And when he understood
that some one was hurt in a pit, or that a neighbour was likely
to die, no consideration was ever had of the darkness of the
night or the severity of the weather. One answer was always
given : ' I will attend you immediately.' "
" In all labour there is profit." It will not surprise any Chris
tian to hear that Fletcher's labours at Madeley produced an
immense effect on many souls. At first, indeed, he seemed to
labour in vain, and to spend his strength for nothing. People
were not converted in masses, and all at once. But gradually
a large number of hearers were led by the Spirit to Christ, and
became witnesses for God in the midst of the sin and darkness
around them. With success, no doubt, came opposition and
persecution of no common kind. This, however, will not sur
prise any Bible-reading Christian. Satan will never allow his
kingdom to be pulled down without a mighty struggle, and

4°8 A PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.
never is his wrath so great as when he sees he has but " a short
time." Let a great and effectual door be opened to the gos
pel, and there will never fail to be " many adversaries." It is
an invariable mark of a real work of God, that it is carried on
" through much persecution."
One Sunday, for instance, after doing his usual duty at
Madeley, Fletcher was on the point of going to a place called
Madeley Wood, to preach and catechise. But, just as he was
setting out, he received a sudden notice that a child was to be
buried, and had to wait for the funeral. This waiting till the
child was brought prevented his going to the Wood till some
time after the appointed hour. Herein the providence of God
appeared in a very remarkable manner. At the hour origin
ally appointed for his preaching, some colliers, who neither
feared God nor man, were baiting a bull just by the place where
he was expected. Having had plenty to drink, they had all
agreed, as soon as he came, to " bait the parson." Part of
them were then appointed to pull him off his horse, and the
rest to set the dogs upon him. But in the meantime the bull
broke loose, and threw down the booth in which the ring
leaders were drinking, and the people were dispersed. The
result was that the godly people who had come together to
hear him preach were enabled to hold their meeting in quiet
ness and safety.
To enter into all the details of Fletcher's history during the
twenty-five years of his ministry at Madeley, would be clearly
impossible in the narrow limits of a brief and condensed memoir.
In fact, to attempt it would be only telling the same story over
and over again. Throughout this whole period, with little in
termission, he was always doing one and the same thing —
always preaching, always teaching, always trying to awaken
sinners, always trying to build up saints ; but always one and
the same man, giving himself up wholly to his Master's busi
ness. Sometimes he found time to take a few Sundays at Lady

SUPERINTENDENT OF TREVECCA COLLEGE. 409
Huntingdon's chapel at Bath. Sometimes he exchanged duties
for a little season with friends, such as Mr. Sellon, at Bredon,
in Leicestershire. Sometimes he wrote long controversial
treatises, in defence of what he believed was Christ's truth,
against what he called Calvinism and Antinomianism. Some
times he was entirely laid aside from work by ill health. But
wherever he was, and in whatever condition, John Fletcher
was unmistakably the " man of God," always the minister of
Christ, always delighting in work, always insatiably desirous to
do good to souls. I find no man of the last century, whatever
his defects may have been in doctrine, to whom the scrip
tural motto might be so justly applied, " One thing I do."
About the year 1768 Fletcher was invited by Lady Hunting
don to become superintendent of her Training College for
young ministers at Trevecca, in Wales. He accepted this
important post with the distinct understanding that he was not
to be generally resident there. He felt strongly that his duty
to his flock at Madeley would not admit of this. But it was
settled that he should attend as often as he could, should give
advice about the appointment of masters and the admission or
exclusion of students, should oversee their studies and conduct,
and should judge of their fitness for the work of the ministry.
Whether a native of Switzerland, who had never seen Eng
land or spoken the English language till he was twenty-one,
was exactly the man to be head of a training college, may
admit of some doubt. In all probability, however, Fletcher
was the best man among the evangelists of the day whom Lady
Huntingdon could find. His reputation as tutor to Mr. Hill's
son was probably a strong recommendation. His learning and
scholarship were undeniable. His character as a holy, decided
man stood very high. In short, if he were not the fittest person
in the world to be principal of a college, it would not be very
easy to say who, in that day, was more fit.
Fletcher, at any rate, appears to have done what he could to

410 HIS COURSE OF STUDY.
give the new Institution success. A letter to Lady Huntingdon,
dated January 1768, gives a very favourable idea of his sound
judgment. He evidently sees the materials he had to work
upon, and wisely resolves not to pitch the standard of attain
ments required too high. He proposes to instruct all the
students in grammar, logic, rhetoric, ecclesiastical history, geo
graphy, a little natural philosophy, and a great deal of practical
divinity. The books he specially wishes to have in the library
are, — Henry's and Gill's Commentaries on the Bible, Baxter's
Works, Reach on Metaphors, Taylor on Types, Gurnall's
Christian Armoury, Edwards on Preaching, Wesley's Christian
Library, Usher's Body of Divinity, Scapula's Greek Lexicon,
Lyttleton's Latin Dictionary, and Johnson's English Dictionary.
Short and scanty as this list may appear for the beginning of a
college library, it cannot be denied that it was well selected,
considering the times. The mention of Gill's Commentary is
also an interesting fact. It is enough to show that Fletcher's
Arminianism did not prevent him valuing the works of a tho
roughly Calvinistic writer.
The best account of Fletcher's proceedings as Principal of
Trevecca is to be found in the writings of one of the under-
masters ; and it is so interesting, that I shall make no apology
for giving it entire. He says : — " I went to reside at Trevecca
in 1770. The young men whom I found there were serious,
and made considerable progress in learning, and many of them
seemed to have talents for the ministry Mr. Fletcher visited
us frequently, and was received as an angel of God. It is not
possible for me to describe the veneration in which we all held
him. Like Elijah in the school of the prophets, he was revered,
he was loved, he was almost adored ; and that not only by
every student, but by every member of the family. And indeed
he was worthy Prayer, praise, love, and zeal, all-ardent, ele
vated above what we would think attainable in this state of
frailty, was the element in which he continually lived. And as

HIS EARNESTNESS AND PR A YERFULNESS. 41 1
to others, his one employment was to call, entreat, and urge
them to ascend with him to the glorious source of being and
blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing else.
Languages, art, sciences, grammar, electricity, logic, even
divinity itself, so-called, were all laid aside when he appeared
in the school-room among the students. His full heart would
not suffer him to be silent ; he must speak. The students were
readier to hearken to this servant and minister of Christ than
to attend to Sallust, Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek his
torian, poet, or philosopher they had been engaged in reading.
And they seldom hearkened long before they were all in tears,
and every heart caught fire from the flame which burned in his
soul. Such seasons generally terminated in this. Being con
vinced that to be filled with the Holy Ghost was a better quali
fication for the ministry of the gospel than any classical learning,
after speaking awhile in the school-room he used often to say,
' As many of you as are athirst for the fulness of the Spirit,
follow me into my room.' On this many of us have instantly
followed him, and there continued for two or three hours,
wrestling, like Jacob, for the blessing ; and praying one after
another, till we could not bear to kneel any longer." I make
no comment on this curious account. I dare not say that I
think it would be well to be incessantly converting college-
lectures into prayer-meetings. But I will not shrink from say
ing, that a few more head-masters of schools and principals of
colleges as spiritual-minded and prayerful as the Vicar of
Madeley, would be an immense blessing to the Church of
Christ. Head-masters and principals too often go into the
very opposite extreme from that into which Fletcher went.
Too often they are cold, dry, hard, and unsympathizing, and
seem to forget entirely that young men have hearts, and con
sciences, and souls.
Fletcher's connection with Trevecca College only lasted three
years. It came to an end in 177 1, in consequence of his steady

412 RESIGNS TREVECCA.
adherence to Arminian principles, and his firm determination
to stand by John Wesley in matters of doctrine. He parted
from the Institution on good terms with Lady Huntingdon, and
without any bitterness or asperity on either side. Whether, in
point of fact, there was so very much difference in doctrinal
views between him and Lady Huntingdon's party, as he sup
posed, is a matter on which I feel considerable doubt. At any
rate, I suspect it was greatly exaggerated. There is no getting
over the remarkable fact that for three years he took a leading
part in the great anniversary gatherings at the college, and
preached side by side with men like Whitefield, Rowlands,
Berridge, and Venn. That simple fact speaks volumes. In
days of controversy, bystanders are fond of exaggerating differ
ences, and blowing up the fire of division. When men can
preach and pray together with freedom, we may rest assured-
that in heart they do not greatly differ. Let us try to believe
that all was ordered for good. It is pretty certain that Fletcher
could not long have retained his double position as Principal
of Trevecca and Vicar of Madeley. The double responsibility
would have killed him. It is far from improbable that he saw
this himself, and was not sorry to have a door opened for
retiring. About the year 1776, Fletcher's health failed so much that
he was completely laid aside from public work, and obliged to
leave Madeley entirely for the long space of five years. He
had never been very strong at any time, and for some years
before 1776 he had many premonitory symptoms of consump
tion. Like many unmarried ministers, he had lived alone and
taken no care of himself, and at the age of forty-seven he seemed
to be breaking down entirely under the abundance of his
labours. He felt himself that he had often been imprudent,
and taxed his constitution too much. But it is just one of
those lessons which ministers generally find out too late, when
the mischief is done. Over-laziness is so much more a besetting

LAID ASIDE BY ILL HEALTH. 413
sin than over-zeal, that a conscientious man may well be ex
cused if he turns a deaf ear to the suggestion, " Spare thyself,"
and suspects it to be a temptation of the devil. Such, I have
little doubt, was the case with Fletcher.
The first two years of Fletcher's forced retirement from work
was spent in England, — partly at Brislington, near Bristol;
partly at Newington, near London ; and partly at other places,
— but always at the house of loving friends. His one employ
ment was that most wearing and depressing one, the search for
health ; and many, strange, and various were the remedies he
seems to have tried in order to obtain it. At no time of his
life, perhaps, did his graces shine more than they did at this.
He gave full proof that he could bear God's will as well as do
it, suffer patiently as well as work actively, sit still and do
nothing as well as run about and do a great deal. Let me here
express my own firm conviction, that this is the highest point
of excellence in a Christian. Self-conceit, and the love of
the praise of men, will often help us to preach, and speak, and
write, and make a great noise in the world. Nothing but great
grace will enable us to be content to do nothing, and to sit still
and wait. No wonder that one who came to visit him at New
ington, when he was thought to be dying, said afterwards, " I
went to see a man that had one foot in the grave, but I found
a man that had one foot in heaven."
The last three years of Fletcher's period of ill health were
spent on the Continent, — partly in the south of France, and
partly in Switzerland. This Continental tour was a wisely-
devised plan, and answered perfectly. The return to his native
air, the entire change of scene and occupation, the freedom
from a thousand causes of care and anxiety in England, the
society of his valued and kind travelling companion, Mr. Ire
land of Brislington,— all these things acted with mighty power
on Fletcher's shattered constitution. Little by little he began
to rally Little by little he lost the many unfavourable symp-

4T4 HIS MARRIAGE.
toms with which he had left England. At last, to his own great
delight, he was able to preach without difficulty ; and at length,
in the month of June 1781, like one miraculously raised from
the dead, he found himself once more in his vicarage at
Madeley. In the latter end of 1781, the same year that he returned to
Madeley, Fletcher was married. He was now in the decline of
life, a man of broken health, in the fifty-second year of his age,
and the step probably took his friends by surprise. But it seems
to have been a wise and well-ordered step, and one that added
much to the comfort of his latter days. The lady of his choice,
a Miss Bosanquet, was one whom he had known well as a
decided Christian for at least twenty years, and she appears in
every respect, both in age and character, to have been eminently
calculated to be a help-meet for him. The account of the
wedding, which is given at great length by Fletcher's biographer,
Mr. Benson, is very curious indeed, and deserves an attentive
perusal. Seldom, perhaps, was a marriage ever celebrated in
a fashion so utterly unlike the fashion of this world. But
Fletcher was no common man, and his wedding was no com
mon wedding.
The Vicar of Madeley's letter to a friend, written shortly
after his marriage, is interesting ; and the more so as it throws
some light on his motives for changing his state. He says :
" I am married in my old age, and have a new opportunity of
considering a great mystery, in the most perfect type of our
Lord's mystical union with his Church. I have now a new call
to pray for a fulness of Christ's holy, gentle, meek, loving spirit,
that I may love my wife as he loved his spouse the Church.
But the emblem is greatly deficient. The Lamb is worthy of
his spouse, and more than worthy : whereas I must acknow
ledge myself unworthy of the yoke-fellow whom Heaven has
reserved for me. She is a person after my own heart ; and I
make no doubt we shall increase the number of the happy

LETTERS ON THE SUBJECT. 415
marriages in the Church militant. Indeed, they are not so
many but it may be worth a Christian's while to add one more
to the number. God declared that it was ' not good for man,'
a social being, ' to live alone ; ' and therefore he gave him a
help-meet for him. For the same reason our Lord sent forth
his disciples two and two. Had I searched the three king
doms, I could not have found one brother willing to share,
gratis, my weal, woe, and labour, and complaisant enough to
unite his fortune to mine. But God has found me a partner,
' a sister, a wife,' to use St. Paul's language, who is not afraid to
face with me the colliers and bargemen of my parish, until
death part us. Buried together in our country village, we shall
help one another to trim our lamps, and to wait, as I trust you
do continually, for the coming of the heavenly Bridegroom."
In another letter, written in the beginning of 1782, he says :
" Strangely restored to health and strength, considering my
years, by the good nursing of my dear partner, I ventured to
preach of late as often as I did formerly : and, after having read
prayers, I preached twice on Christmas-day I did last Sunday
what I had never done : I continued doing duty from ten till
past four in the afternoon, owing to christenings, churchings,
and the sacrament, which I administered to a churchful of
people ; so that I was obliged to go from the communion-table
to begin the evening service, and then to visit some sick. This
has brought back upon me one of my old dangerous symptoms,
so that I had flattered myself in vain to do the whole duty of
my parish. But my dear wife nurses me with the tenderest
care, gives me up to God with the greatest resignation, and
helps me to rejoice that life and death, health and sickness,
work all for our good, and are all sure, as blessed instruments,
to forward us in our journey to heaven."
Fletcher's most useful ministry did not last long after his
return to Madeley. He died on Saturday the 14th of August
1785, after a short illness of only ten days' duration — appa-

4 1 6 /* 7X4 CA'.g.D BY FE VER.
rently a typhus fever — in the fifty-sixth year of his age. His
constitution was probably broken down by his long-continued
labours in Christ's cause, and a constant tendency to consump
tion ; and when the last enemy came, he had no strength or
stamina to enable him to resist disease. Even to the last he
was the same man that he had been for twenty-five years, and
his obstinate determination to work on to the uttermost in all
probability made his attack of fever terminate fatally. Though
taken ill on Thursday the 4th of August, he persisted in taking
the full morning duty on the following Sunday in his church.
He read prayers, preached, and administered the Lord's Supper,
though he nearly fainted several times in the service. From
the church he was supported into his bedroom, where he lay
for some time in a swoon, and from that time he never left his
house alive. Never, perhaps, was there a more striking instance
of the " ruling passion being strong in death." Like White-
field, he almost died in harness.
All through the early part of the week he lay very ill, able to
speak little, but full of joy and peace, and delighting greatly in
hearing his wife read hymns and treatises on faith and love.
On Thursday and Friday he spoke very little, but seemed to
take peculiar pleasure in the text, " God is love," and in the
verse of a hymn containing these words, —
" The blood of Christ through earth and skies,
Mercy — free, boundless mercy cries ;
Mercy's full power I soon shall prove —
Loved with an everlasting love."
On Saturday afternoon the fever seemed to leave him for a
little time, and he became so much more like himself that a
friend said, " Do you think the Lord will raise you up ? " He
strove to answer, but could only just pronounce the words,
" Raise me up in the resurrection." To another who asked the
same question, he said, " I leave it all to God."
On Saturday evening the fever returned again, and with

ILLS DEATH. 417
greater violence than ever. It became evident that he was
dying very fast. His wife then said, " My dear creature, I ask
not for myself — I know thy soul — but I ask for the sake of
others : — If Jesus be very present with thee, lift up thy right
hand;" Immediately he did so. " If the prospect of glory
sweetly open before thee, repeat the sign." He instantly raised
his hand again, and in half a minute raised it a second time.
He then threw it up, as if he would reach the top of the bed.
After this he moved and spoke no more, excepting when Mrs.
Fletcher said, " Art thou in pain ? " when he answered, " No."
From that time he lay in a kind of sleep, though with his eyes
open and fixed, sitting upright in his bed, with his head leaning
on pillows. Eighteen hours he continued in this position,
breathing quietly like a person in common sleep, and with a
countenance so calm and composed that not a trace of death
could be seen on it. During this period many of his mourning
parishioners, who had assembled for Sunday service, were
permitted to walk through the house, and past the open door
of his bedroom, and to see his much-loved face once more.
At length, at half-past ten on Sunday night, August 14th, he
fell asleep in Christ, without a struggle or groan, and entered
into the joy of his Lord. On the 17th, he was buried in
Madeley churchyard, amidst the tears and lamentations of
thousands, of whom many never knew the true value of their
vicar until they had lost him.
I have now followed Fletcher from his cradle to his grave.
It only remains for me to offer some estimate of his real worth
as a preacher, a writer, and a man.
As a preacher, I am disposed to assign Fletcher a very high
rank. Even in the last century, when there were " giants of
pulpit power on the earth," I suspect there were not half-a-dozen
men superior to the Vicar of Madeley. He was naturally an
eloquent man. He had a mind well trained and stored with
scriptural matter. He was eminently direct, bold, and con-
(195) 27

418 FLETCHER AS A PREACHER.
science-stirring, in his way of putting things. Not least, he had
a very fine voice, and a singularly fervent and attractive manner.
It is recorded that many English people used to go to hear him
preach in French to the French congregations in London, though
they could not understand a word that he said. " We go,"
they used to say, " to look at him, for heaven seems to beam
from his countenance." A minister possessing such qualifica
tions as these must have been a man of no common power in
the pulpit. John Wesley, who was no mean judge, used to
say, that if Fletcher had had more physical strength, he would
have been the first preacher in England. This is probably
saying too much. Nothing, I suspect, would ever have made
Fletcher equal Whitefield or Rowlands. But we need not hesi
tate to place him in the first class among the Christian orators
of England a hundred years ago.
The following passage will probably convey a pretty correct
idea of what Fletcher was as a preacher. I have taken it from
his " Address to a serious reader who inquires what must he do
to be saved." The address was certainly not published in the
form of a sermon ; but if it had not been preached, I am
greatly mistaken. Ministers who spend their whole life in
preaching, as Fletcher did, have seldom time to think and
compose in more than one style. To that rule Henry Venn
was perhaps the only exception among the great men of the
last century. But that Fletcher had preached the following
passage in Madeley pulpit before he committed it to the press,
I feel thoroughly persuaded in my own mind. After quoting a
long list of encouraging promises and invitations in Scripture,
he goes on, —
" Are these, O sinner, the gracious sayings of God to thee ?
the compassionate expostulations of God, become incarnate for
thee ? Did God so love thee as to set forth his only-begotten
Son, as a propitiation through faith in his blood, thus to declare
his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past ? May

QUOTA TION FROM AN ADDRESS. 4 1 9
the Almighty now be just, and yet the justifier of him that
believeth in Jesus? Is there no difference, no respect of
persons, with him ? And is the same Lord over all rich unto
all that call upon him ? Then shout, ye heavens ! triumph,
thou earth ! and thou, happy sinner, knovv the day of thy visi
tation ; be wise, ponder these things, and thou shalt understand
the loving-kindness of the Lord.
" Be no longer afraid that it will be presumption in thee to
believe, and that God will be offended with thee if thou makest
so free with Jesus as to wash instantly in the fountain of his
atoning blood. He not only gives thee leave to believe, but
he invites thee to do it freely. Nay, he commands thee to
believe; for 'this is his commandment, that we should believe
on the name of his Son Jesus Christ.' He even enforces the
precept by a double promise, that if thou believest thou ' shalt
not perish, but have everlasting life.' And that nothing may
be wanting to stir thee up to this important business, he is
gracious enough to threaten the neglect of it with the most
dreadful punishment ; for ' he that believeth not shall not enter
into his rest,' and ' shall be damned ; ' and he that to the end
remains 'fearful and unbelieving' 'shall be cast into the lake
that burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second
death.' How canst thou doubt, then, whether thou art welcome
to receive the Son by believing on his name ?
" Come to him just as thou art, and he will make thee
what thou shouldst be. When he counsels thee to buy of him
the gold of faith, and the garment of salvation, take him at his
gospel-word. Come without regarding thy stuff — the poorer
thou art the better — the oil of his grace flows most abundantly
into empty vessels — his charity is most glorified in the relief of
the most miserable objects — his royal bounty scorns the vile
compensation of thy wretched merits — he sells like a king, like
the King of kings, ' without money and without price.'
"'Ask and have,' and 'take freely,' are the encouraging

420 QUOTA TION FROM AN ADDRESS.
mottoes written upon all the unsearchable treasures of his
grace. "Be of good comfort, then; rise, he calleth thee — stretch
out thy withered hand, and he will restore it — open thy mouth
wide, and he will fill it — bring an empty vessel, a poor hungry
heart, and he will give into thy bosom good measure, pressed
down, shaken together and running over.
" And now, what meanest thou, sleeper? Why tarriest thou ?
Arise, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord.
Lose not time in conferring with flesh and blood ; much less
in parleying with Satan, or consulting thy unbelieving heart
These delays lead to ruin ; the Philistines are upon thee,
instantly shake thyself; if thou art not altogether blinded by
the god of this world, and led captive by him at his will, this
moment, in the powerful name of Jesus, burst the bonds of
spiritual sloth — break, like a desperate soul, out of the prison
of unbelief — escape for thy life — look not behind thee — stay
not in all the plain. This one thing do ; leaving the things
that are behind — Sodom and her ways — press forwards towards
Zoar, and escape to the mount of God, lest thou be consumed.
By the new and living way consecrated for us, in full assurance
of faith, fly to the Father of mercies, pass through the crowd of
Laodicean professors, press through the opening door of hope,
take the kingdom of heaven by violence.
"With halting, yet wrestling, Jacob, say to the Friend of
sinners, ' I will not let thee go unless thou bless me.' If he
makes as if he would go farther, with the two mournful disciples,
' constrain him to stay ; ' or rather, with the distressed women
of Canaan, ' follow him whithersoever he goeth,' take no denial.
Through the veil, that is to say, his flesh, torn from the crown
of his head to the sole of his feet — through this mysterious
veil, rent from the top to the bottom, rush into the blood-
besprinkled sanctuary ; embrace the horns of the golden altar ;
ay all thy guilt on the head of the sin-atoning victim ; read thy

FLETCHER AS A WRITER. 421
name on the breast of thy merciful high-priest Claim the
safety, demand the blessings, receive the consolations bestowed
on all that fly to him for refuge, and begin a new, delightful
life, under the healing and peaceful shadow ofhis wings."
As a writer, Fletcher's reputation will never perhaps stand so
high as it deserves. Unfortunately, a very large portion of his
literary remains consists of controversial treatises against Cal
vinism, and in defence of Arminianism. In these treatises I
must plainly say the worthy Vicar of Madeley says many things
with which I cannot agree, because I cannot reconcile them
with the statements of Scripture. Yet, even when I do not
agree with him, I feel bound as an honest man to admit that
Fletcher is a very able adversary, and makes the best that can
be made of a bad cause, and writes with courtesy. Indeed, I
never can help suspecting that he was not nearly so much an
Arminian in his heart as he thought he was, and that he was
pushed into saying things, in the heat of controversy, which he
afterwards regretted.
The following passage, from Fletcher's " Checks to Antino-
mianism," will convey a very fair idea of his power as a writer,
and will show how thoroughly his mind was saturated and imbued
with Scripture. It is almost needless to remark that, like many
controversialists, he was constantly fighting shadows of his own
creation, and that his Calvinistic antagonists hated Antinomian-
ism and unholy living quite as much as he did. But the
passage is a good specimen of his style of writing. He is giving
a long catalogue of the melancholy inconsistencies of professors
of religion, and says : —
"Who can number the 'adulterers and adulteresses' who
know not that the friendship of the world is enmity against God?
— the concealed idolaters, who have their ' chambers of imagery'
within, and 'set up their idols in their hearts?' — the envious
Cains, who carry murder in their breast?' — the profane Esaus,
who give up their birthright for a sensual gratification ; and

4 2 2 SPECIMEN OF HIS STYLE.
covetous Judases, who ' sell the truth' which they should ' buy,'
and part with Christ 'for filthy lucre's sake ?' — ' the sons of God,
who look at the fair daughters of men, and take to themselves
wives of all which they choose?' — the gay Dinahs, who 'visit
the daughters of the land,' and come home polluted in body or
in soul ? — the prophets of Bethel, ' who deceive the prophets of
Judah,' entice them out of the way of self-denial, and bring the
roaring lion and death upon them ? — the fickle Marcuses, who
depart when they should 'go to the work?' — the self-made
prophets, who ' run before they are sent,' and scatter instead of
' profiting the people ?' — the spiritual Absaloms, who rise against
their fathers in the gospel, and, in order to ' reign without them,'
raise a rebellion against them ? — the furious Zedekiahs, who
' make themselves horns of iron to push' the true servants of
the Lord, because they will not ' prophesy smooth things and
deceit' as they do ? Who can count the fretful Jonahs, who
are 'angry to death' when the 'worm' of disappointment
' smites the gourd' of their creature-happiness ? — the weak Aarons,
who dare not resist a multitude, and are carried by the stream
into the greatest absurdities? — the jealous Miriams, who rise
against the ministers that God honours ? — the crafty Zibas, who
calumniate and supplant their brethren ? — the treacherous Joabs,
who ' kiss' them to get an opportunity of ' stabbing them under
the fifth rib ?' — the busy sons of Zeruiah, who perpetually stir
up resentment and wrath ? — the mischievous Doegs, who carry
about poisonous scandal, and blow up the fire of discord ? — the
hypocritical Gehazis, who look like saints before their masters
and ministers, and yet can impudently lie and impiously cheat ?
— the Gibeonites, always busy in hewing wood and drawing
water, in going through the drudgery of outward services, with
out ever aspiring at the adoption of sons ? — the halting Naamans,
who serve the Lord and bow to Rimmon? — the backsliding
Solomons, who once ' chose wisdom,' but now pursue folly
in her most extravagant and impious forms 1 — the apostatizing

FLETCHER AS A MAN. 423
Alexanders, who • tread under foot the Son of God, and count
the blood of the covenant, wherewith they are sanctified, an
unholy thing?'— and, to include multitudes in one class, the
Samaritans, who, by a common mixture of truth and error,
of heavenly and earthly mindedness, ' worship the Lord and
serve their gods ;' are one day for God, and the next for mam
mon? — or the thousands in Israel who 'halt between two
opinions,' crying out, when Elijah prevails, ' The Lord he is the
God!' and when Jezebel triumphs, returning to the old song,
' O BaaL save us !' O trinity of the world, money, pleasure, and
honour, make us happy !"
But it really is not fair to judge Fletcher, as a writer, by his
controversial treatises alone. Out of the eight volumes of his
works, at least four contain many admirable things, which are
far less known than they ought to be. His admirable " Letter
to Mr. Prothero in Defence of Experimental Religion;" his
" Critical Vindication of the Catholic Faith, in reply to Priest
ley ;" his " Portrait of St. Paul ;" his " Pastoral Epistles" to his
flock at Madeley, are, generally speaking, all worthy of high
praise. Last, but not least, his letters to friends, like most of
the letters of the spiritual heroes of last century, are often
most excellent. If a volume of letters by Whitefield, Venn,
and their contemporaries, could be compiled and published —
and I have long regretted that the thing has not been done — I
am bold to say that Fletcher's letters would occupy a very pro
minent place among them.
As a man, Fletcher's character stands above all praise. I can
find very few men of a hundred years ago about whom there is
so striking an agreement on all sides that he was pre-eminently
and peculiarly a most holy man, a saint indeed, a living epistle
of Christ. His deep humility, his extraordinary self-denial, his
unwearied diligence, his courage in Christ's cause, his constant
spirituality of tone, his fervent love to God and man, his single
ness of eye, are features in his character so strongly marked and

424 TESTIMONY OF JOHN WESLEY
developed, that even his adversaries never pretended to deny
them. Wrong as he was in some of his views of doctrine, his
worst foes never ventured to doubt his singular holiness of life.
In this respect, at any rate, the Vicar of Madeley ranked high
among his contemporaries. Like every earthen vessel, he had
his cracks and flaws, no doubt, and no one knew it better than
himself; but they were cracks and flaws which were far less
visible than, unhappily, they are in many of God's saints.
Let us hear what John Wesley thought of Fletcher. No
doubt he was an Arminian, like Fletcher, and likely to think
well *bi him. But Wesley was a calm, cool-blooded man, and
not one to speak strongly in any one's praise without good
reason. This is his testimony : — ¦
" I was intimately acquainted with Mr. Fletcher for thirty
years. I conversed with him morning, noon, and night, with
out the least reserve, during a journey of many hundred miles ;
and in all that time I never heard him speak an improper word,
or do an improper action. To conclude, within fourscore years
I have known many excellent men, holy in heart and life ; but
one equal to him I have not known, one so uniformly devoted
to God. So unblamable a man, in every respect, I have not
found, either in Europe or America, nor do I expect to find
another such on this side eternity."
Let us hear, finally, what Henry Venn thought of Fletcher.
His testimony, at any rate, is unexceptionable. Though not an
extreme Calvinist, he certainly was not in the least an Arminian.
He had little or no direct connection with the Vicar of Made-
ley, and did not move in the same path. Above all, he was a
man of rare good sense as well as grace, and one whose gift of
sound judgment was great and extraordinary.
His testimony was as follows : — " Mr. Fletcher was a lumi
nary. A luminary, did I say ? He was a sun. I have known
all the great men for these fifty years, but I have known none
like him. I was intimately acquainted with him, and was under

AND HENRY VENN. 425
the same roof with him once for six weeks, during which I never
heard him say a single word which was not proper to be spoken,
and which had not a tendency to minister grace to the hearers.
One time meeting him when he was very ill with a hectic fever,
which he had brought on himself by excessive labour, I said,
' I am sorry to find you so ill.' Mr. Fletcher answered with
great sweetness and energy, ' Sorry, sir ! Why are you sorry ?
It is the chastisement of my heavenly Father, and I rejoice in it.
I love the rod of my God, and rejoice therein, as an expression
ofhis love and affection towards me.' "
With John Fletcher I now close my biographical accounts of
the ministers who were prime movers in the revival of English
religion a hundred years ago. I have shown, I think, that in
the best sense " there were giants in those days." The Vicar
of Madeley, my readers will probably agree with me, was not the
least of them.

XIV.
(&ondvc$xan.
Y contribution to the religious history of England a
hundred years ago is now concluded. I have fairly
exhausted the list of leading ministers who were the
spiritual reformers of our land in the last century. That there
were other great and good men beside the eleven whom I have
selected, I do not for a moment deny. I only say that there
were none equal to them in public usefulness. There were
other labourers in the gospel-field of England whose record
is on high. But they " attained not to the first" eleven.
In compiling these biographies I am very sensible of many
deficiencies. I know they might have been made larger. But
I cannot forget that we do not live in a reading age, and that
" great books are great evils." I know they might have been bet
ter written. But I hope the reader will remember that their
preparation has been carried on under immense difficulties, and
under the daily pressure of other ministerial duties. I have, at
any rate, the satisfaction of feeling that this volume contains a
mass of facts which have never been brought together before,
and throws light on some points in English Church history
which have never yet been rightly understood.
There are a few general statistics about my eleven heroes
which deserve notice. Reading their lives singly and one by
one, we may possibly overlook them. Viewed altogether and
in combination, they will probably be thought interesting.
For one thing, every one of the eleven leading ministers in

LEADERS OF LAST CENTURY. 427
the revival of last century was an ordained clergyman of the
Church of England. This is a fact which ought not to be over
looked. I am not what is called a High Churchman. I do
not hold the divine right of Episcopacy. I desire to regard all
ministers who love Christ and preach the truth as my brethren.
But still, honour should be given where honour is due. It is a
total mistake to suppose, as many do, that English religion a
hundred years ago was revived by Dissenters. Nothing of tbe
kind ! The men who did the mighty work of that day, and
plucked Christianity out of the dust, were all clergymen of the
Church of England — clergymen of whom the Church was un
worthy, but still clergymen as really and truly as George Her
bert, or Andrews, or Bull. Let that fact never be forgotten.
Well would it have been for the Church of England if she
had more children like Rowlands and Berridge, and fewer like
Laud. For another thing, the greater part of the leaders of the
revival of English religion last century were University men.
Five of them— namely, Wesley, Whitefield, Romaine, Hervey,
and Walker — took their degrees at Oxford. Three of them — ¦
namely, Grimshaw, Berridge, and Venn — took their degrees at
Cambridge. Toplady was educated at Trinity College, Dublin.
Rowlands and Fletcher alone were at no University at all. Let
this fact also be carefully remembered. The common notion
that the men who turned England upside down last century
were mere common-place, illiterate, ignorant, uneducated fana
tics, is a stupid mistake. So far from this being the case, the
eleven clergymen described in this volume were in all proba
bility better read and more furnished with knowledge than most
ministers of their day.
For another thing, the majority of the eleven clergymen who
led the revival of last century were married men. Of the four
who never married, three died at a comparatively early age, of
consumption, namely, Hervey, Toplady, and Walker. The

428 LESSONS LEARNED FROM THE
most eminent one of the eleven who died unmarried was Ber
ridge, and he, we have seen, was so quaint, that he was always
unlike other men. This fact is one that ought not to be over
looked. In a day when celibacy is held up to admiration as
the grand secret of exalted spirituality, it is worth remembering
that devoted servants of God like Grimshaw, Rowlands, Venn,
and Romaine, could walk with God like Enoch, and yet, like
Enoch, " live according to God's ordinance in the holy estate of
matrimony." The minister who has no sons and daughters of
his own, suffers immense loss in the study of human nature.
It only remains for me now to point out a few practical
lessons which appear to flow naturally from the biographies
which fill the pages of this book. They are lessons which are
strongly impressed on my own mind. Thankful should I be
if I could impress them on the minds of others !
i. In the first place, would we know the right instrumentality
for doing good in the present day ? Evil is about us and upon
us on every side, evil from Romanism, evil from infidelity,
evil from tractarianism, evil from neologianism, evil amidst the
working classes, evil amidst the educated bodies. What is the
true remedy for the disease ? What is the weapon to be wielded
if we would meet the foe ? Can anything be done ? Is there
no hope?
I answer boldly that the true remedy for all the evils of our
day is the same remedy that proved effectual a hundred years
ago — the same pure unadulterated doctrine that the men of
whom I have been writing used to preach, and the same kind
of preachers. I am bold to say that we want nothing new 
no new systems, no new school of teaching, no new theology
no new ceremonial, no new gospel. We want nothing but the
old truths rightly preached and rightly brought home to con
sciences, minds, and wills. The evangelical system of theology
revived England a hundred years ago, and I have faith to believe
that it could revive it again.

PRECEDING BIOGRAPHIES. 4=9
There never has been good done in the world excepting by
the faithful preaching of evangelical truth. From the days of
the apostles down to this time, there have been no victories
won, no spiritual successes obtained, except by the doctrines
which wrought deliverance a hundred years ago. Where are
the conquests of neologianism and tractarianism over heathen
ism, irreligion, immorality ? Where are the nations they have
Christianized, the parishes they have evangelized, the towns
they have turned from darkness to light ? You may well ask
where? You will get no answer. The good that has been
done in the world, however small, has always been done by
evangelical doctrines ; and if men who are not called " evan
gelical" have had successes, they have had them by using
evangelical weapons. They have ploughed with our heifer, or
they would never have had any harvest to show at all.
I repeat it emphatically, for I believe it sincerely. The first
want of our day is a return to the old, simple, and sharply-cut
doctrines of our fathers in the last century ; and the second want
is a generation of like-minded and like-gifted men to preach
them. Give me in any county of England and Wales a man
like Grimshaw or Rowlands or Whitefield, and there is nothing
in the present day which would make me afraid. I confidently
believe that in the face of such men and such preaching ritual
ism, neologianism, and infidelity would be paralyzed and wither
away. 2. Would we know, in the next place, why the ministers who
profess to follow the evangelical fathers of last century are so
much less successful than they were ? The question is a deli
cate and interesting one, and ought not to be shelved. The
suspicion naturally crosses some minds, that the doctrines which
won victories a hundred years ago are worn out, and have lost
their power. I believe that theory to be an entire mistake.
The answer which I give to the inquiry is one of a very dif
ferent kind.

43° KOT UP TO THE STANDARD
I am obliged then to say plainly, that, in my judgment, we
have among us neither the men nor the doctrines of the days
gone by. We have none who preach with such peculiar power
as Whitefield or Rowlands. We have none who in self-denial,
singleness of eye, diligence, holy boldness, and unworldliness,
come up to the level of Grimshaw, Walker, Venn, and Fletcher.
It is a humbling conclusion ; but I have long felt that it is the
truth. We lack both the men and the message of the last century.
What wonder if we do not see the last century's results. Give
us like men and a like message, and I have no fear that the
Holy Ghost would grant us like results.
Wherein do evangelical Churchmen fall short of their great
predecessors in the last century ? Let us look this question fairly
in the face. Let us come to particulars. They fall short in
doctrine. They are neither so full nor so distinct, nor so bold,
nor so uncompromising. They are afraid of strong statements.
They are too ready to fence, and guard, and qualify all their
teaching, as if Christ's gospel was a little baby, and could not
be trusted to walk alone. They fall short as preachers. They
have neither the fervour, nor fire, nor thought, nor illus
tration, nor directness, nor holy boldness, nor grand simplicity
of language which characterized the last century. Above
all, they fall short in life. They are not men of one thing,
separate from the world, unmistakable men of God, minis
ters of Christ everywhere, indifferent to man's opinion, regard
less who is offended, if they only preach truth, always about
their Father's business, as Grimshaw and Fletcher used to be.
They do not make the world feel that a prophet is among them,
and carry about with them their Master's presence, as Moses
when he came down from the mount. I write these things with
sorrow. I desire to take my full share of blame. But I do
believe I am speaking the truth.
It is no use trying to evade the truth on this subject. I fear
that, as a general rule, the evangelical ministry in England has

OF LAST CENTUR Y. 431
fallen far below the standard of the last century, and that the
simple account of the want of success to which so many point is,
the low standard both of doctrine and life which prevails. Ease
and popularity, and the absence of persecution, are ruinous to
some. Political questions eat out the vitality of others. An
extravagant and excessive attention to the petty details of parish
machinery withers up the ministry of others. An absurd strain
ing after the reputation of being " intellectual " and original is
the curse of others. A desire to seem charitable and liberal,
and keep in with everybody, paralyzes the ministry of others.
The plague is abroad. We want a revival among evangelical
ministers. Once let the evangelical ministry of England return
to the ways of the last century, and I firmly believe we should
have as much success as before. We are where we are, because
we have come short of our fathers.
3. Last of all comes the all-important question, What ought
we to do ? I answer confidently, There are three things which
we shall do well to remember, if we wish our work to prosper.
First, let us resolve to cast in our lot boldly on the side of what
I must call " evangelical" religion in England. Let us not be
moved by the sneers and contempt which are poured on it in
some quarters. Let us cleave to it, hold it fast, and never let
it go. Let us beware of the plausible charity which says, " All
earnest men hold the truth. No earnest man can err." Let us
beware ofthe idolatry of intellect, which says, "A man cannot
make mistakes in doctrine if he is a clever man." Of both these
dangers let us beware. Let us lay hold firmly on evangelical
religion as the truth of God, and never be ashamed to confess
it. Let us stand by it, and it will stand by us in the hour of
sickness and on the bed of death, in the swellings of Jordan,
and in the day of judgment.
Next, let us resolve to work heartily for evangelical truth,
each in his own place. There is always work for every one
before his own door. Let us never stand still because we are

43 2 WORK AND PRA YER.
in a minority. What though we stand alone in a house of
business, alone in the banking-house, alone in a regiment, alone
in a ship, alone in a family!. What of it ? Let us think of the
little company who shook England one hundred years ago, and
work on. It is truth, not numbers, which shall always in the end
prevail. The three hundred at Thermopylae were better than
the million of Persians. A small minority of evangelical Chris
tians with the gospel in their hearts are stronger than a host of
servants of the Pope, the devil, and the world.
And let us pray, last of all, as well as work. Let us pray
night and day that God would revive his work in England, and
raise up many more instruments to do his will. Let us pray with
the abiding thought that God's arm is not shortened, that what he
has done he can do again, and that the same God who wrought
so mightily for England one hundred years ago can do greater
things still. Let us ask Him who holds the stars in his right
hand to revive his work among our ministers, and to raise up
men for our times. He can do it. He is willing to do it. He
waits to be entreated. Then let all who pray cry night and day
to the Lord of the harvest, " Lord, send forth more labourers
into thy harvest."

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