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TRACTS 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



©literal Scries 




VOL. Ill, 



PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 



CONTENTS. 



VOL. III. 

No. Pages. 

73. Fashionable Amusements, 12 

74. Great Effects from Little Causes. By Rev. Ebenezer Por- 

ter, D. D., 16 

75. William Kelly, or The Happy Christian. By Rev. Hugh 

Stowell, 20 

76. To-day, 8 

77. The History of a Bible, 12 

78. The Conversion of Abigail Hutchinson. By President Edwards, 8 

79. The Young Cottager. By Rev. Legh Richmond, . . 44 

80. The Danger of Delay, 12 

81. The Seaman's Spy-glass, 20 

82. The Sin and Danger of Despising a Preached Gospel, . 8 

83. Eliza Cunningham. By Rev. John Newton, . . .20 

84. On the Lord's Supper. By Rev. Henry Grove, . 24 

85. The Watchmaker and his Family. By Rev. C. Malan, . 20 

86. Am I Self-deceived 1 4 

87. Conversation in a Boat between two Seamen, . . .28 

88. The Shipmates. A Supplement to No. 87, . 24 

89. The Life and Conversion of the Dairyman. By Rev. Daniel 

Tyerman, 16 

90. A Word in Season, 8 

91. Prayer and Family Religion. By Rev. Benj. Trumbull, D. D., 20 

92. The Forgiving African, 4 

93. The great Question Answered. By Rev. Andrew Fuller, . 20 

94. The Non-conformist's Release, 4 

95. Now or Never. By Rev. Richard Baxter, . . .20 

96. The Sailor's Friend, 8 

97. History of Old Shusco, 8 

98. The New Birth, 16 

99. The Benefits of Sanctified Afflictions, . . . .16 



^ 



4 CONTENTS. 

No. Pages. 

100. The Wedding Garment, 8 

101. The True Believer Bountiful, 16 

102. Pay-night. A Saturday Evening Dialogue, ... 12 

103. Every Man the Friend or the Enemy of Christ, ... 4 

104. The Usefulness of Tracts, 32 

105. The Happy Waterman, or " Honesty the best Policy," . 8 



TXo. T3, 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 



The following arguments have frequently been adduced 
in favor of fashionable amusements. 

1 . That they are not forbidden in Scripture, and must 
consequently be innocent. 

2. That mB-ny professed Christians indulge in them. 

3. That, when not carried to excess, they become a 
means of relaxation, and give additional relish to retirement 
and religious duties. 

4. Some, not altogether satisfied with these arguments, 
adopt a more specious kind of reasoning. They allow and 
apparently lament the unhappy tendency of fashionable 
amusements, but conclude that the evil is past all remedy. 
People, say they, will have their recreations. Should they 
be persuaded to relinquish these, they would probably adopt 
others still more extravagant and hurtful. 

To the first of these arguments it is replied, that there 
are many things not particularly forbidden in Scripture, 
which are, nevertheless, contrary to the obvious spirit of 
its precepts. We are not forbidden, in so many words, to 
set our neighbor's house on fire ; yet nobody imagines that 
the wilful perpetration of such a deed is no crime. We 
reason, in this case, from the general tenor of Scripture, 
which requires us to respect the property and happiness of 
our neighbor. Precisely so must we reason in other cases, 
in which the Scriptures are not explicit. It was never 
meant that the Scriptures should particularly specify and 
name every crime of which men would be guilty. A book 

VOL. III. 1=^ 



2 FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 

which should do this, would be ill calculated to answer the 
purposes of divine revelation, as few would find time to read 
its contents. 

If fashionable amusements existed, in their present form, 
during the time of our Saviour and of his apostles, there is 
no evidence of their being practised by Christians. It will 
scarcely be pretended that Paul and his associates in the 
ministry were fond of cards or dancing. If they frequented 
the theatre, it was only to preach the Gospel to such as 
could not be met whh elsewhere. Their disciples, by imi- 
tating their holy example, prevented the necessity of partic- 
ular precepts. The argument in question is, therefore, of 
no particular importance, unless it be proved that these 
amusements are not forbidden by the general tenor of Scrip, 
ture. But it will hereafter be fully shown, that Scripture 
in its obvious import does forbid them. 

The second argument, that many professed Christians 
indulge in fashionable amusements, is often resorted to, es- 
pecially by the young. But if there are many professed 
Christians who indulge in these amusements, there are, at 
least, as many who deem such conduct inconsistent with the 
obligations of the Gospel. Both parties cannot be right. 
If one is autliorized to coodemn, the other cannot be author- 
ized to approve. Before the example of either may be safely 
followed, we must ascertain its correctness. And this leads 
us back to the general tenor of Scripture, as the most sure 
and obvious guide. 

Are, then, the examples and sentiments of Christians to 
be disregarded ? By no means. It must, however, be kept 
in mind, that all are not the friends of Jesus who have so 
named themselves: that the examples and sentiments of 
those only, whose lives prove them genuinely pious, should 
be esteemed of much account in this matter. Can this be 
generally said of such as indulge in fashionable amuse- 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 3 

merits ? Do they exhibit conformity to Him who was meek 
and lowly of heart ? Have they " set their affections on 
things above, and not on things on the earth ?" Are they 
giving " diligence to make their calling and election sure," 
" lest a promise being left of entering into rest, any of them 
should seem to come short of it ?" Does " the word of 
Christ dwell in them richly in all wisdom ?" Is it mani- 
fest that they are " renewed in the spirit of their minds;" 
that they continue "instant in prayer;" that they live "as 
strangers and pilgrims upon earth ;" that they are " blame- 
less and harmless, the sons of God without rebuke, amidst 
a crooked and perverse generation, among whom they shine 
as lights in the world ?" Are they always ready to give of 
their substance to advance the cause of Christ ? Are they 
strictly attentive to the proper seasons of devotion 1 Do the 
duties of family religion suffer no interruption from their 
amusements ? Do they show themselves to be pleased with 
serious and improving conversation ? Do they uniformly 
exhibit that piety to God, and that good will to man, which 
are the surest marks of Christianity ? Are they active in 
promoting those great schemes of beneficence which charac- 
terize the present era, and afford so animating a proof that 
the knowledge of the Lord is soon to fill the earth ? With- 
out such proofs of piety, however much we may respect 
them, they have no claim to authority as Christians. 

After all, it is not true, that a comparatively large num- 
ber of Christians do approve of fashionable amusements. 
We are persuaded that a vast majority of Christian parents 
entirely restrain their children from taking part in these 
diversions, or grant the indulgence with reluctance ; and 
that pious youth generally turn from them with disgust. 

The third argument is less frequently urged, and with 
less apparent confidence. He surely betrays great igno- 
rance of the nature of true religion, who regards its duties 



4 FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 

as a melancholy or wearisome business. Wretched indeed 
must be the state of that soul, which seeks to be relieved 
from the delightful exercises of devotion, by the unsatisfy- 
ing pleasures of the world. Religion a task ? Those who 
find it so, have much reason to conclude that they have 
never experienced its transforming power. 

Besides, if these amusements give additional relish to 
retirement and religious duties, why does a little experience 
in them uniformly tempt to excessive indulgence ? That 
such is the fact, is notorious. A few visits to the theatre 
seldom fail to create a desire for constant attendance. The 
same is true of cards and dancing. In the mean time, it is 
found, that the person, who is proceeding in this course, is 
daily less disposed to the right performance of religious du- 
ties. The argument is therefore false, both in theory and in 
fact. It contradicts those parts of Scripture which require 
Christians to separate themselves from the world, that they 
may live a life of piety. Fashionable amusements send men 
away from the " Fountain of living waters," to " broken 
cisterns which can hold no water." 

Indulgence in these amusements is objectionable, even 
as a relaxation from secular concerns. The farmer and the 
mechanic have little occasion for the exercise of dancing ; 
the mind of the student is polluted and distracted, rather 
than refreshed, by plays and cards ; and the me^'chant finds, 
that either of the three unfits him for sferious business. In- 
deed, the time usually allotted to these diversions, together 
with the violence of one of them, and in all, the long con- 
finement of many persons to a single room, render the plea 
of health or useful relaxation entirely chimerical. 

There are some who, when forced to admit the weak- 
ness of these arguments, take refuge in a fourth. If we 
may credit their words, none are more desirous to see a gen- 
eral reformation in morals than themselves ; but they are 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 5 

pleased to add, " As things are, people will have diversions 
suited to their taste. Persuade them to relinquish these, 
and they will adopt others still more exceptionable." But 
this plea, however it may be abused by others, none can 
justly urge in excuse for themselves. They cannot surely 
resolve to practise one sin, lest by its omission they should 
fall into other sins still greater. Let all, then, who feel that 
these amusements are exceptionable, themselves refrain 
from them ; and let them make a serious and persevering 
effort to produce the reformation of others. 

The Scriptures allow of no excuse for sin. God requires 
that all men, in all situations and circumstances, consecrate 
themselves entirely to his service. Prove any pursuit con- 
trary to his requisitions, and we must instantly renounce it ; 
we must do it resolutely and at all hazards. For as cer- 
tainly as God is true, " the workers of iniquity shall not go 
unpunished." This argument, then, founded on the com- 
parative innocence of fashionable amusements, must also be 
given up. It cannot abide the trial of the judgment day. 

Having considered, at length, some of the arguments in 
favor of fashionable amusements, we proceed to show posi- 
tively, that these amusements are not consistent with the 
general tenor of the Scriptures. 

1. They are expensive. How many hundreds, nay, how 
many thousands of dollars, are sometimes wasted in one 
night at the theatre, at the card-table, or at a ball ! In 
fashionable amusements, how much must be expended in 
extravagant dress and useless ornaments ! But reason and 
Scripture demand, that we devote our property, as well as 
our other talents, to the service of the Redeemer. He re- 
quires us to relieve the wants of the poor, especially of the 
members of his spiritual body. All holy beings are pleased, 
when we are liberal in promoting the cause of piety. And 



Q FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 

if we only look around us, hoVv many sons and daughters 
of affliction do we behold ; how many institutions formed to 
meliorate the present condition of man, and to open to him 
the gates of immortality ; how many that deserve and call 
for pecuniary aid ! Will a generous individual, will a 
Christian, knowingly spend that at the theatre, which might 
save the life of one perishing for want of bread, or suffering 
for want of a comfortable habitation ? Will any man of 
common humanity be expensive in his amusements, while 
millions of perishing heathen are extending their hands to 
him for the only Book which makes known the way to ever- 
lasting life ? God forbid. Diversions so purchased, are 
purchased at an infinite cost. When- the dead, small and 
great, shall stand before God, and the books shall be opened, 
the heathen will rise up in judgment, and condemn both 
the profession and the parsimony that denied them the 
Gospel. 

2. Fashionable amusements occasion loss of time. And 
who, that considers the consequence of such a loss, would 
not avoid it with religious care ? Time affords an opportu- 
nity to do good ; to promote the piety and happiness of 
friends and fellow-men ; it may be, to extend our benevo- 
lent efforts to distant nations. But it is only when time is 
connected with eternity, that we form any tolerable estimate 
of its value. Here all calculation fails ; and the mind is 
left to contemplate and wonder at what it can never grasp. 
One immortal spirit is of more value than ten thousand 
worlds. It will survive the dissolution of the stars; and 
will enjoy, in future, more than all finite creatures have ever 
enjoyed, or suffer more than they all have ever suffered. 
Yet it depends on the improvement of time, whether we and 
our fellow-men realize this eternal weight o^ joy, or of suf- 
fering. 

Much time is spent in extraordinary preparation for 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 7 

fashionable amusements ; much in frivolous conversation by 
the way, and at the place of meeting ; and much in idle 
reflection and remark, after the amusement is past. Time 
so spent is worse than wasted, because it is not only not 
used for the benefit of either mind or body, but is generally 
so used as to unfit both for serious employment. 

3. Amusements prevent the acquisition of valuable accom- 
plishments. By valuable accomplishments, we understand 
those only which give innocent pleasure, are lasting and 
useful. Among these, we may include propriety of man- 
ners, a well-cultivated taste and understanding, the know- 
ledge of business, habits of industry, etc. These are acqui- 
sitions which all must allow to be desirable. Deprived of 
these, society would want not only its present elegancies, 
but its substantial comforts ; and Christianity, and science, 
and civilization, would be lost to the world. Though all 
are not required to engage in the same calling, but may 
innocently select that which best comports with their cir- 
cumstances and natural dispositions ; yet none are excused 
from virtuous industry, from qualifying themselves in every 
possible way to act a useful part in life. Whoever refuses 
to do this, transgresses the command of God, becomes a 
moth to society, and should be considered as an enemy, and 
a disgrace to the human species. Our Saviour aimed at 
being useful. His disciples did the same. It is the glory 
of Jehovah himself, that the exercise of his perfections pro- 
motes the beauty and happiness of the universe. Ascertain 
the voluntary efforts of an individual to do good, and you 
have the foundation for all his just demands upon the esteem 
and gratitude of men, and what especially renders him 
lovely in the sight of God. 

If these observations are just, it follows that fashionable 
amusements hinder the acquisition of valuable accomplish- 
ments. They consume much time, which might be em- 



g FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 

ployed in attaining important acquisitions ; lead to useless 
thoughts and conversation ; and contribute to lower the 
standard of excellence. 

It will not be pretended that the theatre is a school of 
good manners. People attend the theatre, ostensibly, for 
the sake of being taught the customs of other ages ; of being 
warmed by the rehearsal of noble actions ; and of learning 
the secret mazes of the human heart. But all this instruc- 
tion may be better obtained in other ways. The instruction 
of the theatre is without system, generally foreign to our 
circumstances, and always connected with much that is 
exceptionable in language, sentiment, and manners. 

Cards answer no valuable end whatever. No man can 
advocate them in any view, except as a means of banishing 
the tedium of protracted visits ; or as a convenient covering 
for the ignorance and folly of some, who nevertheless would 
be thought people of consequence. 

Most persons feel the necessity of occasional relaxation 
from business ; and are disposed to seek it in the social cir- 
cle. There is, however, no necessity o^ wasting time, even 
here. It is not difficult to render such intercourse, not 
merely a relaxation, but the means of increasing knowledge 
and virtue. Accordingly, the apostle has enjoined it on Chris- 
tians, whether they eat or drink, or whatsoever they do, to do all 
to the glory of God. It is not enough that amusements be, in 
their nature, harmless, or in some degree beneficial ; they 
should unite the most valuable improvement with innocent 
pleasure. The Gospel requires, that all men improve their 
talents to the uttermost. Such conduct honors the divine 
law, and exhibits a faint image of the moral beauty of man 
as he came from the hand of his Creator. Thus God is 
glorified ; and thus Christianity is more eflfectually recom- 
mended to the world than it could be by volumes, written 
with the professed design to recommend it. But it is obvi- 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEIVIENTS. g 

ous, that fashionable amusements do not combine these ad- 
vantages. Their occupying the place of others which might 
combine them, is another melancholy proof that they hinder 
the acquisition of valuable accomplishments. 

4. They mifit the mind for religious duties. We do not 
bring this accusation, without having first considered its 
import. The greatest object of human life is, to secure the 
favor of God. Without his favor, our natural and acquired 
talents, our enjoyments and privileges, all which birth, and 
riches, and influence can give, will serve but to aggravate 
our future wretchedness. That which entices from God, or 
unfits for communion with him, threatens our dearest inter- 
ests. For " what shall it profit a man, if he gain the whole 
world, and lose his own soul ? or what shall a man give in 
exchange for his soul ?" 

Fashionable amusements unfit the mind for religious 
duties, by diverting its attention from them. Here any 
reference to the peculiar doctrines of the Gospel, and espe- 
cially to the momentous topics of death, judgment, and eter- 
nity, is proscribed as altogether impertinent. Serious reflec- 
tion, too, must be avoided : it would render the passing scene 
insipid and painful. Accordingly, persons called to mourn 
the recent loss of friends, or from other causes greatly 
afflicted, usually refuse attendance. The same is true of 
those who manifest peculiar anxiety to secure the salvation 
of their souls. Revivals of religion, though they uniformly 
promote friendship and social intercourse, never fail to bring 
these amusements into disrepute. In short, their warmest 
advocate must allow, that their obvious effect is to divert the 
mind from the most important duties of religion. 

Now, whatever keeps any object uniformly out of view, 
creates indifference to that object. Of this trait in the human 
character, very few are entirely ignorant. When we would 
assuage grief, we labor to produce forgetfulness of its cause. 

VOL. Ill, 2 



JO FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS 

When we would excite men to worthy pursuits, we exhibit 
them to their view ; we repeat the exhibition ; we make 
them the principal object of remark. Whoever does this, 
generally obtains his purpose. Religion is not, in this 
respect, materially different from other employments. Keep 
its nature and importance out of sight, and it ceases to 
interest. 

Fashionable amusements not only banish religious 
thought and conversation, but they fill the mind with an 
inordinate love of those things which reason and Scripture 
pronounce " vanity and vexation of spirit." In most pur- 
suits, men have their standard of excellence. He who 
attains to his standard, will be envied or esteemed by all 
who unwillingly fall short of it. But when the standard 
of excellence is low, or the objects which create emulation 
insignificant and hurtful, eagerness of pursuit is productive 
of the most unhappy consequences. It degrades and vitiates 
the moral faculties. The man comes to be not only indif- 
ferent to religious duties, but frequently to despise them, as 
unworthy of comparison with the trifles by which he is 
occupied. 

It is almost needless to add, that these remarks are pe- 
culiarly applicable to balls. A few useless attainments 
here procure flattery, while real worth is overlooked. 

If cards and plays do not present an equal field for com- 
petition, they chain the mind to objects equally trifling and 
pernicious. Promptness in the ceremonies and small talk 
of the card-table, elegance of form, exquisite art in putting 
on that gaudy finery which is the very opposite of modest 
and decent attire, certainly merit little attention from im- 
mortal beings. Yet such are the subjects which interest 
those who statedly engage in these amusements, and which 
must have immense influence in forming their moral char- 
acter. Can he who is dazzled by these trifles, and steadily 



FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. jj 

bent on excelling in them, be at the same time possessed of 
the meek and prayerful spirit of Christianity ? Without 
this spirit, all claims to the right performance of any duty 
are totally groundless. 

Thus we have showed, that fashionable amusements are 
not consistent with the 'general tenor of the Scriptures ; that 
they are expensive ; that they occasion loss of time ; that 
they hinder the acquisition of valuable accomplishments, 
and unfit the mind for communion with God. Other argu- 
ments might be brought, but they are thought unnecessary. 
It is deemed a sufficient reason for relinquishing any plea- 
sure, that it hazards life or health. Does any one doubt the 
influence of fashionable amusements upon these ? Let him 
look at the melancholy and daily increasing list of early 
deaths by consumption, especially among females, many of 
whom are from the m.ost respectable families. Let him see 
whether these early deaths are not, in multitudes of instan- 
ces, to be traced to some vain amusement as their cause. 
And shall we go on to witness in silence this waste of 
health in blooming youth, yea, this sad exposure of their 
lives, so precious to their friends, so inconceivably precious 
to themselves as probationers for eternity ? We have seen 
that fashionable amusements do infinitely more than this ; 
they pervert our talents, alienate the soul from God, and thus 
prepare it for aggravated ruin. But, saith our Saviour, "if 
thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee ; 
for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should 
perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. 
And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from 
thee'; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members 
should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast 
into hell." 

Reader, you have a soul of infinite value. Shall this 
soul be wantonly sacrificed ? Will you for a single mo- 



12 FASHIONABLE AMUSEMENTS. 

ment hazard its loss, for the sake of vain amusements ? 
Oh ! beware of so unwise a choice, lest destruction come 
upon you like a whirlwind, and there be none to deliver. 

"I am well satisfied," writes the Rev. John Newton to 
a young lady, " that if there is any practice in the land 
sinful, attendance on the playhouse is properly and emi- 
nently so. Theatres are fountains and means of vice ; I 
had almost said, in the same manner and degree as the 
ordinances of the Gospel are means of grace ; and I can 
hardly think there is a Christian upon earth, who would 
dare to be seen there, if the nature and effects of the thea- 
tre were properly set before them. Dr. Witherspoon, of 
Scotland, has written an excellent piece upon the stage, or 
rather against it, which I wish every person who makes the 
least pretence to fear God, had an opportunity of perusing. 
I cannot judge much more favorably of all the innumerable 
train of dissipations by which the god of this world blinds 
the eyes of multitudes, lest the light of the glorious Gospel 
should shine in upon them. What an awful aspect upon 
the present times have such texts as Isa. 22 : 12-14 ; Amos 
6 : 3-6 ; James 4:4. I wish- you, therefore, not to plead 
for any of them, but use all your influence to make them 
shunned as pesthouses, and dangerous nuisances to precious 
souls ; especially, if you know of any who you hope in the 
main are seriously disposed, who yet venture themselves in 
those purlieus of Satan, endeavor earnestly and faithfully 
to undeceive them. The time is short ; eternity at the door. 
And, blessed be God ! the Gospel opens a source of purer, 
sweeter, and more substantial pleasures. We are invited 
to communion with God, and to share in the theme of an- 
gels, and the songs of heaven." 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 74. 

GREAT EFFECTS 

FROM 

LITTLE CAUSES. 

BY REV. EBENEZER TORTER, D. D. 




One hand did the deed, in one moment; but hundreds of milh'ous have been involv- 
ed in the consequences through sixty centuries.— See. page 4. 

Behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth. — James 3 : 5. 
Every child knows that a spark of fire is a little thinor. 
It is extinguished by a drop of water ; or, if let alone, dies 
of itself. Yet a spark of fire often becomes the instrument 
of extensive utility or mischief. A spark of fire, from the 
flint or the match, spreads the field of battle with the 
dead. A spark of fire is communicated to a magazine of 
powder ; in a moment massy walls of wood and stone, 
the pride of war, and the labor of years, yield to the 



VOL. Ill, 



2* 



2 GREAT EFFECTS 

frightful explosion, and, scattered in a thousand fragments, 
spread terror and destruction. A spark of fire lights in a 
closet, or on the roof of a building ; a family start from 
their slumbers, to see their dwelling with all its contents, 
in a blaze. The flames kindle upon the nearest buildings ; 
the neighborhood is involved in the spreading ruin; and, 
behold, a city is laid in ashes ! 

The text suggests one leading thought, which I trust is 
now clearly before your minds : 

Great effects result from little causes. 

Let us attend to the illustration of this truth, and its 
application to practical purposes. 

The extent of the kingdom of providence, and the con- 
nection of minute with great events, is a subject with which 
our duty and happiness are deeply concerned. When I 
speak of causes and effects, let me not be understood to 
exclude, or overlook the supreme agency of that Almighty 
Hand which created, and which controls all things. What 
are called the laws of nature, are nothing distinct from the 
divine will, operating in a uniform manner. In support of 
the proposition suggested by the text, we derive an argument, 
then, from the general doctrine of a Divine Providence. 
The argument is this — God created the world. As an 
intelligent agent, he must have created it for some end. To 
secure the accomplishment of that end, he must govern it ; 
and his government, to be effectual, must be universal. It 
must extend to little things; to all things. So the Bible 
teaches. The sparrow, though only equal in value to half 
a farthing, is not beneath the care of the great Jehovah. 
He feeds the young ravens, and clothes the lilies in beauty, 
and numbers even the hairs of our heads. This he does 
with ultimate reference to the great objects of his kingdom. 
So reason teaches. A very limited acquaintance with the 
connection of causes and effects must satisfy us, that, in the 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. 3 

government of Providence, great things often depend on 
small things. A moment seems scarcely worth our regard ; 
yet centuries are made up of moments. The mountain that 
rears its stately head to the clouds, is composed of grains of 
dust. The river that rolls its majestic tide to the ocean, 
consists of drops. Here navies float on its waters ; but fol- 
lowed backward to its source, it becomes now a rivulet, and 
now a spring, bubbling from the rocks of some distant 
region. 

The greatest events which the world has witnessed, have 
resulted from a combination of concurrent causes, each of 
which might seem altogether unimportant in itself. 

Take the subject, to illustrate which the apostle uttered 
the text. The tongue is a little member ; yet it may prove 
" a world of iniquity, and set on fire the course of nature." 
We need not draw examples from the monstrous folly of 
duellists, when so many examples are to be found among 
rational, sober men, and even in the Christian church. 
That little member speaks a word. A partial alienation 
between two friends commences; by the whispering of 
other tongues, increases ; becomes coldness, then jealousy, 
then enmity. Their own passions, the partialities of friends, 
the officiousness of tale-bearers, act with combined and 
mischievous effect, till a trivial misunderstanding, which 
might have been amicably adjusted in one minute, becomes 
an incurable and ruinous controversy. Suppose the parties 
to be pastors in the church — suppose them to be prime 
ministers of a nation — and see how the consequences rise 
into incalculable importance. 

To change the figure, and adopt that of Solomon : " The 
beginning of strife is as when one letteth forth water." 
The breach in a dam, which might have been covered with 
a man's hand, was neglected, and occasioned a deluge. A 
fiy or an atom may set in motion a train of intermediate 



4 GREAT EFFECTS 

causes, which shall produce a revolution in a kingdom. 
Any one of a thousand incidents might have cut off Alex- 
ander of Greece in his cradle. But if Alexander had died 
in infancy, or had lived a single day longer than he did, it 
might have put another face on all the following history of 
the world. 

A spectacle-maker's boy, amusing himself in his father's 
shop, by holding two glasses between his finger and his 
thumb, and varying their distance, perceived the weather- 
cock of the church spire, opposite to him, much larger than 
ordinary, and apparently much nearer, and turned upside 
down. This excited the wonder of the father, and led him 
to additional experiments ; and these resulted in that aston- 
ishing instrument, the telescope, as invented by Galileo, and 
perfected by Herschel. 

It is a fact commonly known, that the laws of gravitatioji, 
which guide the thousands of rolling worlds in the planetary 
system, were suggested at first to the mind of Newton by 
ihe falling of an apple. 

The art of printing shows from what casual incidents 
the most magnificent events in the scheme of Providence 
may result. Time was when princes were scarcely rich 
enough to purchase a copy of the Bible. Now, every cot- 
tager in Christendom is rich enough to possess this treasure. 
" Who would have thought that the simple circumstance of 
a man amusing himself by cutting a few letters on the bark 
of a tree, and impressing them on paper, was intimately con- 
nected with the mental illumination of the world ?" 

Great effects may result from little causes. 

Let us pursue the illustration of this truth, as furnished 
by facts in sacred history. 

"The woman took of the fruit, and did eat; and gave 
also unto her husband with her, and he did eat." In itself, 
how small was this action ; but it ruined a icorld ! One 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. 5 

hand did the deed, in one moment! but hundreds of millions 
have been involved in the consequences, through sixty cen- 
turies ! 

A spark of envy, in the bosoms of Joseph's brethren, 
grew into settled enmity, and led them to aim at the destruc- 
tion of his life. Here commenced a series of events, which 
occasioned the removal of Jacob's family to Egypt, and 
which gave complexion to the affairs of two nations through 
all subsequent periods. 

The seed of Jacob, who came down to Egypt, were only 
seventy persons. During their residence in that land, they 
multiplied to six hundred thousand fighting men. The king 
of the country, alarmed at this increase, issued a barbarous 
edict, that every^Hebrew male child should be destroyed at 
its birth. To avoid the execution of this decree, a Hebrew 
mother, having concealed her little son for three months, 
resolved to commit the babe to the mercy of Providence, 
with no protection from the elements and the monsters of the 
Nile, but an ark of bulrushes. Soon a stranger passed by 
that way, just at the moment that the babe wept. That 
stranger was a woman, whose heart could feel for a poor, 
forsaken infant : a princess, too, the only person in Egypt 
who might safely indulge this tenderness. The child was 
saved, and adopted as the son of the king's daughter. Lit- 
tle did that princess know what she was doing. That weep- 
ing infant, thus rescued from death, was to be the minister 
of divine vengeance to the kingdom of her haughty father ; 
was to be the amanuensis of the Holy Ghost ; was to write 
five books of the sacred canon, containing the only authentic 
history of the creation and first ages of the world ; was to 
become a distinguished legislator, deliverer, and guide to 
the church of God. 

Joshua's victorious march into Canaan was suddenly 
arrested. His army were compelled to fly before their ene- 



6 GREAT EFFECTS 

mies : all was consternation and distress. What was the 
matter ? A single man, out of the twelve tribes, had em- 
bezzled three articles from the spoils of Jericho, contrary 
to Divine command. Achan committed trespass in this 
thing, "and wrath fell upon all the congregation of Israel." 

Restrained by the energy of Joshua's authority and ex- 
ample, Israel prospered ; but his death was followed by a 
rapid decline of piety and morals. In this period of licen- 
tiousness, Micah stole from his mother eleven hundred 
pieces of silver. By a process which exhibits one of the 
strangest traits in the human character, namely, the con- 
nection between depravity and superstition, Micah came to 
the resolution to appease his conscience, by making this 
stolen silver into a god. A vagrant Levite from Bethlehem 
Judah became his priest. From this small beginning, idol- 
atry spread like a leprosy through the nation. The fear of 
God was extinguished ; and such profligacy of manners 
ensued, even in the beloved tribe of Benjamin, that a peace- 
able stranger could not lodge among them one night in 
safety. One of the most dire calamities which flowed from 
these impieties was civil war. Brother was armed against 
brother ; and in three desperate battles, sixty-five thousand 
men were slain. " Behold, how great a matter a little fire 
kindleth." 

The sons of Eli made themselves vile, and he restrained 
them not. This negligence in the judge and the priest of 
Israel, proved a source of the deepest anguish to himself 
and his country. These lawless sons, having access to the 
sacred utensils of the tabernacle, carried away the Ark of 
the covenant into the camp, to ensure victory over the Philis- 
tines. God was angry ; Israel was smitten with a terrible 
slaughter ; and the Ark was taken. In the mean time Eli 
heard what his sons had done. His heart trembled. Blind 
with age, and bending under the decrepitude of ninety-eight 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. 7 

years, he tottered away to the gate of the city, and sat down 
there, that he might catch the first rumor from the army. 
Oh, should the Ark be taken, the glory of Israel would be 
gone ! With what profane triumph would it be told in Gath, 
and published in the streets of Askelon. Presently a tumult 
is heard : a messenger has come from the army — where is 
Eli? — "What meaneth the noise of this tumult?" said the 
poor old man to the messenger, panting for breath ; " what 
is there done, my son ?" " Israel is Jied before the Philis- 
tines : there hath been a great slaughter among the people ; 
thy two sons, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead ; and the Ark 
OF God is taken." Eli heard all with composure, till the 
dreadful event was announced, " the Ark of God is taken :" 
that was too much ; his heart sunk, he fainted, fell back- 
ward, and died. From that day, the ruin of Shiloh was 
dated. From that fatal day, their candlestick was removed 
out of its place, and their city dwindled to nothing. 

In the sequel of the Jewish history, we read that Goliath 
of Gath came forth, day after day, and, with an attitude of 
daring impiety, challenged the Hebrews and their God. 
The men of war were struck with dismay, and the captains 
of Israel, with trembling hearts, and at a cautious distance, 
looked at the mighty man. At length, a stripling shepherd, 
the son of Jesse, unfit, as was supposed, for the fatigues of 
war, was sent to the camp on a common errand, to carry 
provisions and inquire for the welfare of his brethren. By 
permission of the king, he entered the lists to fight with Go- 
liath. Clad in no armor but faith in the Lord of hosts, and 
using no weapons but a sling and a stone, the giant fell be- 
fore him. Thus a common stone, which had lain perhaps 
useless and unnoticed for ages in the bottom of a common 
brook, slew the champion, and routed the army of the Phi- 
listines, and decided a battle on which the interests of a na- 
tion were suspended. 



Q GREAT EFFECTS 

Great effects may result from little causes. 

I have drawn out the illustration of this truth in so many- 
particulars, because I wish to impress it on every individual, 
with reference to the practical instruction which results from 
it. This instruction may be included under two general 
remarks. 

First. It is a solemn thing to live in this world. 

We are a part of a complex system. Connected as we 
are with our fellow-beings and with eternity, every action, 
every circumstance pertaining to our character, however 
apparently indifferent, becomes absolutely important. If the 
history of our race, in past ages, proves this, no less does the 
course of events within our own observation. We have but 
lately witnessed the winding up of a drama, in which all the 
world have been actors. Little did its first authors anti- 
cipate the awful lesson of instruction to mankind, which its 
progress has exhibited. A few licentious men, having or- 
ganized the principles of anarchy in the heart of Europe, 
blew the fire in secret for half a century, when it burst into 
a tremendous explosion. Like Etna's boiling furnaces, it 
poured out its rivers of flame, to mar all that was fair, and 
consume all that was flourishing around it. Every mon- 
archy in Europe was shaken. Political and religious sys- 
tems, reared by the labor of ages, felt the concussion, and 
fell among the mighty ruins of this sweeping desolation. 

I grant that efforts to do mischief are wont to be attended 
with fatal success, because they cooperate with the strong, 
downward course of human depravity. The river forms a 
broader and deeper current as it runs. The rock that is 
started from the mountain's summit by a single hand, rushes 
downward by its own weight, but a thousand hands could 
not roll it back. The mischief which Jej'oboam did in 
Israel lasted through twenty generations. 

On the contrary, it is easy to name those who have been 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES, 9 

illustrious benefactors of the world. Who can estimate the 
amount of good accomplished by Moses, by Nehemiah, by 
Paul, by Luther ? Who can pretend to determine, till it is 
revealed in eternity, the extent of good produced by the 
preaching of Whitefield ; or the number of immortal souls 
that will be found at last to have been saved from eternal 
death by the instrumentality of Baxter's Saints^ Rest? In 
this view every preacher of the Gospel may w^ll tremble 
at the consequences which must result from his labors; 
nay, at the consequences which may result from a single 
word or action. With awful emphasis, then, it may be said 
of the preacher, whose doctrine or life is habitually cor- 
rupt, " Good had it been for that man, if he had not been 
born." 

But admitting that it is a solemn thing to live as the 
ruler of a nation, or the pastor of a church, does the subject 
apply to persons in common life ? It does. What though 
you occupy a humble station : only remember that you are 
immortal, and that others around you are immortal, and 
what importance does this single thought attach to every 
thing you say or do ! You take a walk ; you read a book ; 
you spend an hour in a social circle. The thing is done 
and forgotten. But, imperceptibly, perhaps, you have re- 
ceived impressions on your own mind, or have given impres- 
sions to some other mind, that will last for ever. Every 
man and every woman is connected with God's world by a 
thousand ties, and cannot live, no, not for a single day, with- 
out doing good or evil. 

, You are a professed Christian. Perhaps you sometimes 
forget the vows of God which are upon you, and give such 
license to your tongue, or to your actions, as to wound the 
cause of the Redeemer. Did you ever soberly look at con- 
sequences in this case ? Did you ever reflect that what you 
have done in one half hour, may have influence a thousand 

VOL. III. 3 



IQ GREAT EFFECTS 

miles distant, or a thousand years to come ? A mortal pes- 
tilence spread over a city ; that pestilence was introduced 
by a ship's crew, among whom it was generated by a small 
defect in their ship ; and that defect was occasioned by the 
gnawing of a worm in an oak, that grew on another conti- 
nent, a century before. 

You are a father. Do you say, how can I, an obscure 
man, who have no influence on the affairs of the great 
world, do mischief by my example ? What was that un- 
guarded word which you spoke this morning in your fam- 
ily ? You have forgotten ; but your child will remember it, 
perhaps, to his dying day. Say not, then, I, who am ob- 
scure, may act without restraint, especially when secluded 
from the world, in the retirement of my family. Obscure f 
You are immortal. You must go to the judgment ; and 
every whisper of your life will be exhibited before an 
assembled universe ! Secluded ! What if the eye of the 
world does not follow you into the domestic circle ? Is it 
not restraint enough that your child is there % That child 
has a soul^ worth more than a million globes of gold. 
That child, too, may become a legislator, a judge, or a pas- 
tor in the church. Take care, pai'ent ! You act under a 
dreadful responsibility. You cannot stir, without touching 
some string that will vibrate after your head is laid in the 
dust. One word of pious counsel, or one word of sinful 
levity or passion, uttered in the hearing of your child, may 
produce an effect on your children's children. Nay, its in- 
fluence may be felt on the other side of the globe, and may 
extend into eternity. 

You are a mother. Excluded from any share in the 
splendid achievements of the world ; is your influence, 
therefore, to be deemed unimportant ? By no means. The 
wife of a humble tradesman in London had a son, who, at 
his birth, was apparently destitute of life, and was laid aside 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. jj 

as dead. By the assiduities of a faithful nurse, the expiring 
flame of life in the infant was happily preserved. His 
Christian mother dedicated him to God, " and before he 
could read, taught him the history of the Old and New Tes- 
taments, by the assistance of some Dutch tiles in the chimney 
of the room where they usually sat." That child was 
Philip Doddridge ; afterwards, as you know, one of the 
most useful ministers that has lived in any age. 

By whose instrumentality was the prophet Samuel edu- 
cated for an exalted station in the church ? By that of his 
mother Hannah. AVho taught young Timothy the Holy 
Scriptures ? His grandmother Lois, and his mother Eunice. 
Wherever the writings of the late venerable John Newton 
shall be read, it will be known that the instructions which 
his pious mother gave him before he was four years old, 
fastened an impression on his conscience, which cleaved to 
him through all his subsequent licentiousness, till he became 
an eminent believer and preacher of that Gospel which he 
had despised. In connection with this, take another fact, 
which spreads out our subject before us in all its interest. 
Claudius Buchanan, a poor youth, wandering in the streets 
of London, incidentally heard a sermon from Mr. Newton, 
which excited his first I'eligious impressions. How much 
good has been done by the indefatigable efforts and enter- 
prise of Buchanan ! How little did he know, when he took 
his pen to write on that text, " We have seen his star in the 
east, and are come to worship him,'''' that he was kindling a 
fire, to burn with unabated fervor, in millions of bosoms, 
when the hand of death should have extinguished it in his 
own ! How many thousands are every day instructed and 
comforted by reading the Family Bible of Scott, another 
man to whom Newton was a spiritual father ! Look now 
at this immense sum of good, and remember that, so far as 
human agency deserves to be mentioned in any case, all 



12 GREAT EFFECTS 

this is to be ascribed, under God, to the instructions which 
a little child received from his Christian mother. 

My second general remark is, that we should never 
yield to discouragement in our efforts to do good. 

Though the result of these efforts, in any case, should 
not be so immediate as we could wish, we are called to the 
exercise of faith, and patience, and courage, not of despond- 
ency. The first question is, in every such case, Is this a 
good object ? The second is, By what means shall it he 
accomplished ? Settle these, and there is no third question. 
To deliberate whether such an object shall not be given 
over, is beneath the dignity and energy of Christian princi- 
ples. I know that the cause of piety and good morals has 
stubborn obstacles to encounter. The majority of the world 
is against it. Still, the friend of this cause may say, with 
fearless confidence, like the encircled prophet, " They that 
be with us, are more than they that be with them." Here 
again let facts speak for our instruction. 

The disciples of Christ were once a feeble, despised sect 
at Jerusalem. The Jewish senate deliberated whether to 
crush this sect at a stroke, or to let it die of itself. But 
behold, " the weakness of God is stronger than men." 
Twelve fishermen of Galilee, without learning, without 
power, without friends, erected the standard of the cross. 
Hosts of opposition gave way' before the triumphs of truth ; 
and all the wealth and wisdom, the pride and prejudice, the 
power and policy of the world, could not resist its progress. 

But we need not survey past centuries. The astonish- 
ing events which we have recently witnessed, rebuke de- 
spondence in doing good. 

Look at the Concert of Prayer. A few British Chris- 
tians, in a private chamber, resolved to set apart an hour, 
on the first Monday evening of every month, to pray for 
the revival of religion. The flame spread from minister to 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. | 3 

minister, and from church to church, till it reached the 
extremities of the empire in which it began. From Britain 
the same spirit has been kindled in various parts of Europe, 
Asia, Africa, and America. 

Jt is no enthusiasm to hope that all Christendom will 
soon unite in this concert ; and that the spirits of Luther, 
and Baxter, and Edwards, will look down from their abodes 
of light, to witness the church, resting from her long con- 
flict and agony, and her prayers, from every part of the 
globe, ascending in one great cloud of incense to heaven. 

Look at the little band of men who formed the first 
Missionary Society in modern times. With means utterly 
incompetent to the magnitude of their undertaking, they 
assumed a motto worthy of the apostolic age : " Expect 

GEE AT THINGS, ATTE3IPT GREAT THINGS." The histoiy of 

their labors and successes demonstrates, that no obstacles 
are too great to be surmounted, no enterprise of Christian 
benevolence is too arduous to be undertaken in the strength 
of the Lord. 

Look at the British and Foreign Bible Society. In 
twenty years from its establishment, it distributed more 
than four millions of Bibles and Testaments, filled the 
world with kindred societies and the fruits of its beneficence; 
and its annual expenditures for this sacred object amounted 
to little less than five hundred thousand dollars. 

Look at the British Tract Society. At its fourteenth 
anniversary, one of its founders said, " I have followed this 
Society from its birth : at first, we could not number more 
friends than would surround this table. But this infant has 
become a Samson in strength." Twenty six years from its 
establishment it had an annual income of forty thousand 
dollars ; and had distributed more than seventy millions of 
religious Tracts, in various languages, which have gone as 
winged messengers of salvation to the ends of the earth. 

VOL. III. ii* 



24 GREAT EFFECTS 

They have preached the Gospel in the splendid mansion 
and in the humble cottage. They have carried instruction 
" to the child in the school, to the traveller on the road, to 
the soldier in the camp, to the seaman on the miglity waters, 
to the victim of disease in the hospital, and to the debtor, the 
captive, and the criminal, within the walls of the prison." 

Look at the wonderful efforts to do good, which our own 
country exhibits. Time would fail to mention the Societies 
for promoting Domestic and Foreign Missions,* Bible Soci- 
eties, Tract, Education, and other charitable Associations, 
which have recently sprung up without number, and some 
of which are among the noblest institutions of the age. 

I ask you now, brethren, to review this subject. Sur- 
vey the world in motion : the wonderful characteristics of 
this age of action. Then look at the dear, immortal chil- 
dren, in your families and schools : then look forward into 
future generations, and into eternity, and say, have you not 
a great work to accomplish ? Every man, woman, and 
child, can do something — can do much. Who cannot spare 
one cent, to buy a small Tract ? That Tract, dropped on 
the high road, or given to a stranger, may carry comfort to 
some desponding, or conviction to some careless heart ; 
jnay reclaim some profligate, awaken some drunkard to 
sobriety, some Sabbath-breaker or swearer to saving refor- 
mation. 

The day is coming, when men will be accustomed to 
reckon the establishment of a Tract or Moral Society, or a 
prayer-meeting, among the instruments of ushering in the 
glory of the church, and the salvation of the world. It is 
not improbable that eternity will disclose to us, how tlie 

* In 1808, the spirit of Foreign Missions, which has since 
excited a deeper interest in the American churches than any 
otlier subject ever did, was confined to the bosom of tuo or three 
pious young- men, with whom it originated. 



FROM LITTLE CAUSES. 25 

astonishing events of this age sprung at first from the closet 
of some obscure saint, like Simeon and Anna of old, " pray- 
ing to God alway, and waiting for the consolation of Israel." 
Courage, then, brethren ! Stand up to your work, and 
go forward. God is with you. The struggle between sin 
and righteousness is drawing to a close. The storm which 
has agitated the church is ceasing to rage. "The long 
night of discord and calamity which has enveloped the world, 
is passing into a glorious day. With humble hope and joy, 
we hail the approaching consummation of the prophetic 
word, when the seventh angel shall sound, and great voices 
be heard in heaven, saying, ' The kingdoms of this world 
are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ ; and 
he shall reign for ever and ever.' Allelujah! Amen." 



The invention of the telescope, it has been said, resulted 
from the amusement of a spectacle-maker's boy. On the 
same optical principles was constructed the itiicroscope, by 
which we perceive that a drop of stagnant water is a world 
teeming with inhabitants. By one of these instruments the 
experimental philosopher measures the ponderous globes that 
the Omnipotent Hand has ranged in majestic order through 
the skies ; by the other, he sees the same hand employed in 
rounding and polishing five thousand minute, transparent 
globes, in the eye of a fly. Yet all these discoveries of 
modern science, exhibiting the intelligence, dominion, and 
agency of God, we owe to the transient amusement of a 
child. 

The Tract called The Great Question Answered, was 
one day presented by Rev. Dr. Henderson, at the gate of 
the royal gardens in Copenhagen, to a young physician who 
passed by. He read it, and it made such an impression on 
his mind that he applied to a patient, one of the Moravian 



15 GREAT EFFECTS FROM LITTLE CAUSER. 

brethren, to assist him in finding the donor. This pious 
man rested not till he had found him, and informed him of 
the deplorable destitution of the Scriptures in Iceland. This 
laid the foundation for Dr, Henderson and Dr. Paterson 
being engaged in the service of the Bible Society ; and con- 
sequently for all the blessings which have flowed from Bible 
Societies in Iceland, Denmark, Sweden, and Russia ! 

A New England clergyman, (the author of this Tract,) 
in 1R13, on entering a bookstore in his own neighborhood, 
observed a small religious pamphlet, recently published, and 
inquired the price of it. He was told it was sixpence. His 
mind instantly reverted to the cheapness with which such 
publications were issued by the Religious Tract Society of 
London. " That book," he replied, " should be aflx)rded to 
all who wish to purchase it for distribution, at a penny— 
and it must be !" He consulted with a few friends. A 
Tract Society was formed, which issued, in a few months, 
more Tracts than had before been printed in the United 
Slates. That Society, with others, constituted the Ameri- 
can Tract Society ; of the final extent of the operations or 
usefulness of which, the Omniscient Mind alone can form 
an adequate conception. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Mo. 75. 

WILLIAM KELLY; 



OR, 



THE HAPPY CHRISTIAN 

BY REV. HUGH STOV/ELL, 

OF THE ISLE OF MAN. 




William Kelly was bom at Douglas, in the Isle of 
Man, in the year 1731. He was descended from poor but 
honest parents, who resided in the parish of Kirk Bradden, 
on the south side of the Island. At the parochial school he 
received so much learning as to be able to read the holy- 
Scriptures. His mother took some pains with his religious 
education, and gave him the best instructions in her power. 
Her labor was not altogether in vain ; for he took great 
pleasure, at a very early period of life, in attending public 
worship. At a proper age he was put apprentice to a tailor | 



2 LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

and, having finished his apprenticeship, he travelled through 
several parts of England for improvement in his trade. 

On his return to his native place, he discovered strong 
marks of growing vanity ; and both his dress and behavior 
betrayed uncommon levity of mind and pride of heart. He 
now frequented the company of idle and dissolute young men, 
and soon learned their vices and imitated their manners. 

To supply his expenses, which began to exceed the gains 
of his trade, he commenced fisherman, and soon distinguished 
himself by his diligence and activity on board the herring, 
boat, and still more by his clamor and noise at the public- 
house. He proceeded from one degree of intemperance to 
another, till at last he became an habitual drunkard. 

Before he arrived at this " excess of riot," he had many 
struggles with himself, and felt the horrors of an accusing 
conscience, and the shame of a degraded man. Of this 
part of his life he never spoke, after his conversion, but 
with bitter remorse, and the liveliest acknowledgments of 
the goodness of God in not cutting him off while he was 
running so desperate a course. After forming repeated 
plans of reformation ; after resolving, and re-resolving, to 
quit the haunts of drunkenness ; he still continued a slave 
to his appetite, and a dupe to his vile companions. 

His extravagance at length arose to such a height, that 
his credit was totally gone. One day, being unable to 
satisfy the demand on him at the public-house, the land- 
lady seized his hat as security for the payment of the debt, 
and he was obliged to hurry home bare-headed, grieved, 
ashamed, and mortified. This circumstance had a power- 
ful effect on his mind. He began, in earnest, to consider 
his ways as a sinner against God; like the Prodigal Son, 
" he came to himself," repenting of his sins, and earnestly 
desiring to forsake them; but having experienced the in- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 3 

sufficiency of his former resolutions, which were made in 
his own strength, and being fully convinced that " all holy 
desires, alKgood counsels, and all just works," proceed 
from God, he prostrated himself before the throne of grace ; 
he earnestly sought help from above ; with a " broken and 
contrite heart " he applied to Jesus, the Saviour of sinners; 
and, with an entire reliance on the merits, and an absolute 
dependence on the grace of this compassionate Saviour, he 
solemnly and deliberately determined to " break off his 
sins," and enter on a new life. 

This resolution, formed in the divine strength, he was 
enabled, by the blessed Spirit who suggested it, inviolably 
to keep ; and from that period, which was about the thirti- 
eth year of his life, to the end of his days, a term of more 
than forty years, he never tasted beer, ale, or any spiritu- 
ous liquor. 

His first step after his conversion, was to abandon his 
former dissolute companions. Though frequently and im- 
portunately solicited to accompany them, as usual, to their 
riotous meetings, he could never once be prevailed on to 
violate the solemn resolution which he had formed. He 
now applied himself diligently to the labors of lys trade, and 
was soon enabled to discharge the debts which he had con- 
tracted by his former extravagance. Often did he mention 
the seizure and releasing of his hat, and his grateful ac- 
knowledgments to the merciless landlady, whom he always 
regarded, under Providence, as highly instrumental in his 
conversion. 

The change which was wrought by divine grace in his 
views and sentiments, produced a corresponding change in 
his life and conversation. He became a neio man; his 
manners, his habits, his pleasures, and his employments, 
were changed. The hours which he formerly spent in the 



4 LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY 

public-house, were now spent in retirement. He was fre- 
quent and earnest in secret prayer. Often did the rising 
sun behold him on his knees ; and often was the silence of 
the night broken by his fervent supplications. While his 
hands were engaged, during the hours of the day, in honest 
labor, his heart was ascending to heaven in prayer and 
praise. Many a solitary hour did he beguile with " psalms, 
and hymns, and spiritual songs." 

He applied himself with earnestness and constancy to 
the reading of the Holy Scriptures. This was his favorite 
employment and recreation. He committed large portions 
of Scripture to memory, particularly the preceptive and 
practical parts. These formed the continual subject of his 
thoughts. They were inscribed on the tablets of his mem- 
ory, and wrought into the very frame of his mind ; so that 
they were present to his view at all times and in all places, 
like a guardian angel, continually whispering to him, 
** This is the way, walk ye in it." Isaiah 30 : 21. 

He also found great profit and delight in reading books 
of practical religion, which he borrowed from all his relig- 
ious acquaintance who were in possession of any treasure 
of this kind,. As a compensation for the perusal of the 
book, and a mark of his esteem for its contents, he was in 
the habit of mending and repairing every leaf and back 
which stood in need of repair ; and poor as he was, he 
sometimes gave a coat to bishop Beveridge, and another to 
bishop Taylor. His familiar acquaintance with several of 
our best divines, had contributed much to give him just and 
correct views of religion. Horneck and Beveridge were 
his favorite authors. With the writings of the latter, par- 
ticularly his " Resolutions," he was so well acquainted, 
that upon hearing him quote the sentiments of this excellent 
writer, one mifjht imacrine he had long been in habits of in- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 5 

timacy with the bishop, or at least had lived in his family 
for many years. 

He applied himself with extraordinary diligence to the 
study of the Manks language ; and his proficiency was so 
great that he was employed as a teacher by several per- 
sons who wished to obtain a knowledge of it. In this ca- 
pacity the writer of this narrative first became acquainted 
with him ; and with gratitude he acknowledges the many 
Scriptural lessons which he has received from him, the 
many pleasing and profitable hours which he has spent in 
his society, and the lively impression which the example of 
this venerable man has left on his mind, of the power of 
Divine grace to make the profligate pious, the unlearned 
wise, and the poor happy. Several of the clergy of this 
island have similar obligations to their Manks tutor, and 
retain a peculiar respect and regard for his memory. 

His manners were so gentle, his conversation so cheer- 
ful, and his whole behavior so mild and courteous, that his 
company was highly grateful to all who had the least savor 
of piety in themselves ; and even those whose spirit and 
temper were most contrary to his own, were constrained to 
acknowledge that his conduct discovered how earnestly he 
pursued " whatsoever things are lovely and of good report." 
During the latter years of his life, he was subject to rheu- 
matic pains, and a complaint in his back, which disabled 
him from following his trade, except at short intervals. 
The small earnings of his former days, on which he was 
now compelled to draw, afforded but a scanty subsistence. 
On this trifling pittance, however, he lived contentedly, 
thankfully, and cheerfully. 

So far was he from murmuring or repining, that he was 
continually uttering the language of praise and thanksgiving 
to the God of his mercies. He kept the bright side of every 

VOL. III. 4 



Q LIFE OF Wir.LIAM KEIJ-Y. 

thing in view. When others were complaining of the times, 
of the weather, or the crops, he would still find out some 
reasons for thankfulness in those very subjects of complaint; 
and would remark, in his favorite phrase, that " All is from 
Himself" — meaning from the Giver of all good. A grate- 
ful cheerfulness was the prevailing temper of his mind ; he 
had a constant regard to that passage of Scripture, " Giving 
thanks always for all things ;" and on every occasion he 
supported the character of a truly happy Christian. 

To an intimate friend he once gave the following ac- 
count of his domestic economy and his daily expenses. His 
general diet, he said, was bread and water. Occasionally 
he bought a pennyworth of milk, which he considered as a 
great luxury ; and sometimes he indulged himself with a 
herring, Avhich his hostess dressed for him ; but he seldom 
or never could go to the expense of butchers' meat. For 
the garret in which he lived he paid five shillings yearly. 
He made it an invariable rule never to get any article with- 
out paying for it, in conformity to the precept of Scripture, 
" Owe no man any thing, but to love one another." In this 
manner did he pass several years of his life, during which 
it may, with the strictest truth, be asserted, that his whole 
expense did not amount to five pounds in the year. 

As he approached nearer his end, he walked silently 
and thoughtfully along the shore of eternity, and became 
still more spiritual and heavenly in his conversation. For 
nearly the two last years of his life, when his little funds 
began to be exhausted, and he was utterly unable to recruit 
them, it pleased that good Providence, who never leaves nor 
forsakes those who trust in Him, to open a door of relief for 
his faithful servant. The exemplary piety of this happy 
Christian introduced him to the acquaintance of a lady who 
had been long confinexl by a painful disease, which termi- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 7 

nated in her death. During her tedious confinement, she 
found peculiar consolation from the visits of this Christian 
friend, and often spoke of the benefit which she derived 
from his scriptural and edifying discourse. Her friendship 
procured him many temporal comforts, which he always 
regai*ded as coming immediately from God, and for which 
he abounded in thanksgiving. 

About this time, when his wants were probably very 
pressing, though he was never heard to utter a complaint, 
one of his young friends, who had long regarded him with 
peculiar esteem and affection, obtained for him a monthly 
subscription of sixteen shillings ; and on enquiring whether 
this would be a sufficient supply, the old man with gratitude 
beaming from his eye, declared that he did not know what 
he should do with so much money. The event proved that 
this was, indeed, too large a sum for him to expend on him- 
self; for, as the friend who procured it afterwards discov- 
ered, he made it serve three other families. In his visits, 
also, to sick and indigent persons, he was in the habit of 
imparting such pecuniary relief as, considering his ability, 
appears almost incredible. 

His little library formed the principal part of his prop- 
erty ; this consisted of the Bible in Manks and English, 
bishop Wilson's Exposition of the Catechism, The Christian 
Monitor, The Minister's Advice to his Parishioners, Evans' 
Meditations, and Orton's Sermons on Eternity, which was 
one of his favorite books. He had formerly possessed 
" Bishop Kidder's Advice to Young Men," but some person 
had stolen it from him ; and he ever after lamented the loss 
of that book as one of the heaviest calamities of life. 

The few books in his collection he had read and read 
again, but especially the Scriptures, which were his constant 
nourishment, his comfort under every affliction, the contin- 



8 LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

ual subject of his meditations, the favorite theme of his 
discourse, his companion in solitude, and his counsellor in 
all difficulties. His acquaintance with the Bible was very 
remarkable. The historical parts of both the Old and New 
Testament were so familiar to him, that, in recounting any 
fact from either, he seldom omitted a single circumstance ; 
and, in general, related every incident in the very language 
of Scripture. The Psalms were his peculiar delight ; he 
had many of them in his memory, and was in the habit 
both of repeating and singing several passages which he 
had selected, with great judgment, from the version by Tate 
and Brady. These, and some of Dr. Watts' Hymns, as 
also Bishop Kenn's Morning and Evening Hymn, furnished 
him with abundant matter for the exercise of his talents in 
Psalmody, for which he was particularly distinguished. 

His knowledge of the New Testament was still more 
extraordinary. The parables, exhortations, and admonitions 
of our blessed Saviour, and the practical and preceptive 
parts of the epistles, were all treasured up in his memory, 
and he would repeat them among his religious friends, with 
perfect accuracy, and in their proper connection. What- 
ever was the subject of conversation, it reminded him of 
some apposite passage of Scripture, of some fact, or parable, 
or precept, which he was sure to introduce. He abounded 
much in religious anecdote, and seldom conversed, for any 
length of time, without bringing forward some favorite pas- 
sage from " the great Authors," as he termed them, which 
he had read. 

It may be interesting and instructive to the reader to be 
presented with a few specimens of his religious conversa- 
tion. 

1. Being one day in company where some persons, ap- 



I>1FE OF WILLIAM KELLY. Q 

parently religious, were speaking witli mucli severity on tiie 
faults of an absent neighbor, this genuine Christian, after 
betraying strong symptoms of uneasiness, at length broke out 
in these words : " Come, come, my friends, if we can say 
nothing good of him, let us say nothing at all. Shall I tell 
you what bishop Beveridge says ? ' I resolve,' says he, 
' never to speak of a man's virtues to his face, nor of his 
vices behind his back.' And what saith the apostle ? 'Who 
maketh thee to differ from another?' " 1 Cor. 4:7. 

2. Speaking of the danger of what some call little sins, 
he used to say, '• A small penknife will take away life as 
well as a large sword." 

3. "Supposing," he would say, "that some very rich 
man were to leave me a large estate ; before I had walked 
round the boundaries and taken the number of the fields, I 
might be called away. What good, then, would the estate 
do me? Let me take care to secure the inheritance incor- 
ruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away." 

4. He often dwelt on this passage of Scripture, " I said, 
I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue," 
Psalm 39 : 1 ; and frequently repeated those passages in the 
epistle of St. James, chapter 3, which relate to the govern- 
ment of the tongue ; and he would enforce his admonitions 
by the story of the man who sent his servant to the market, 
to bring him the best article which he could find there, and 
the servant returned with a tongue ; being sent a second 
time for the worst article in the market, he again brought 
back a tongue. " I hear many," he would sometimes say, 
" complain of their having had teeth, but I have never 
heard any one complain of his having a iad tongue. I don't 
read, however, in Scripture, of any threatenings against bad 
teeth; but I find dreadful judgments denounced against a 
bad tongue." 

VOL. IIT. 4* 



20 UFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

5. When a child has been running towards him, he 
would say, " My Saviour tells me I must become like this 
little child, before I can enter into the kingdom of heaven ; 
as free from hatred, and malice, and pride, and guile, as this 
little child." 

6. He was very earnest and affectionate in his exhorta- 
tions to his young friends, and used often to repeat to them 
that passage in the 119th Psalm : 

How shall the young preserve their ways 

From all pollution free ? 
By making still their course of life 

With thy commands agree. 

And he would conclude by saying, '• Remember the word 
all:' 

7. He used to speak with peculiar earnestness of the 
dreadful consequences of drunkenness, and the unreasona- 
bleness and vileness of such brutal indulgences. One of 
his remarks on this subject is worth preserving : " The 
hoi'se, when brought to the water, will satisfy his thirst ; but, 
after that is done, no power of man can prevail on him to 
take another drop : while his rider will drink, and drink, 
after his thirst is quenched, till he becomes more senseless 
than ' the beasts that perish.' What return shall I make 
to the Father of mercies, and the tender lover of souls, for 
sparing me, and leading me, by hi^ grace, to see the error 
of my ways ?" 

8. To show the necessity of an entire change of heart, 
he often mentioned a saying of bishop Taylor's : " If there 
be a crack in a bell, there is no possible way of repairing 
it; it must be cast anew." 

9. Another saying of bishop Taylor's he frequently re- 
peated, with strong marks of approbation : " Though I could 
commit sin so secretly that no person living should ever 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. jj 

hear of it, and though I were sure that God would never 
punish me for it, vet would I not commit sin, for the very 
filthiness of sin." 

10. Often would he say, that it was the fault of hearers 
that sermons are heard with so little profit. " I never in my 
life," said he, " heard a bad sermon : all the preachers I 
have heard, warn me to flee from sin ; and were all hearers 
to say to themselves, on entering the courts of the Lord's 
house, ' Take heed how ye hear,' they would not fail of 
profiting by every sermon which they hear." 

11. "We must put on the whole armor of God," he 
would say, " if we would come oflT conquerors. I read of 
king Ahab being smitten between the joints of the harness." 

12. " Soul-work,'^ he would frequently say, " is the most 
important of all work ; and it ought never to be done care- 
lessly or negligently. Let me remember, while I live, the 
story of the poor man who spent the greatest part of his time 
in holy reading, meditation, and prayer; and who, being 
asked by his friends why he spent so many hours in that 
manner, lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven and said, 
' For ever, for ever, for ever.' " 

It would be easy to produce many similar religious 
remarks which fell from the lips of this excellent man ; but 
these may suffice to discover the wisdom which is imparted 
by Divine grace. 

There was nothing in the life of this happy Christian 
more remarkable than his entire abstraction from the cares 
and concerns of the world. Having no wife or family to 
provide for, and his own wants being so few and so easily 
satisfied ; his mind was wholly occupied by spiritual and 
eternal things. He '• lived by faith," and had literally his 
"conversation in heaven." He was seen to glide silently 



12 I-IfE ^F WILLIAM KELLY. 

through the streets and alleys of the town like an inhabitant 
of another world. The noise and the bustle around him did 
not interest him in the least. His thoughts and affections 
were fixed '-on things above." He had but one great con- 
cern, one grand end in view — " to glorify God, who had 
called him unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus." 

" To a person who was remarking that coals had grown 
extremely dear, he replied, " Coals, sir, are as cheap to me 
noiv, as they were forty years ogo.'^ This was in reality 
the case, for no fire had ever warmed his little apartment, 
which, indeed, was furnished with neither grate nor chim- 
ney ; yet of this apartment he often spoke with seeming 
rapture. He had found out a variety of attractions in it, 
which no eye but his could discern. He spoke with par- 
ticular pleasure of the little skylight which admitted the 
first rays of the rising sun into his room, and the mild beams 
of the moon which he used to describe as gilding the cover- 
let of his bed, and beautifying every object around him. 
If the walls of this garret could speak, what a report would 
they bear of the pious exercises, the earnest prayers, and 
devout aspirations of its solitary inhabitant ! 

It was his custom to assemble the people of the house in 
which he lived, for the purposes of praise and prayer, every 
evening, before they retired to rest. The writer of this 
narrative was once present at these family exercises, and 
was highly delighted with his manner of conducting them. 
A few neighbors had joined the little assembly. With great 
spirit and energy the old man began with repeating several 
practical passages of Scripture, on which he grounded a 
short and affectionate exhortation ; he then raised a psalm, 
in which all the little company heartily JQined ; and he 
concluded with bishop Wilson's excellent form of Family 
Praver. The fervent and earnest manner in which he per- 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. J 3 

formed these domestic duties was exceedingly impressive, 
and strongly marked the devout state of his mind. 

The same spirit of devotion shone forth when he joined 
in the public service of the church, on which he was a 
regular and constant attendant. The delight which he took 
in the church service was very remarkable. To Jiim the 
liturgy was always new, always interesting ; he joined in 
every pethion, with unabating fervor ; and his earnest man- 
ner of making the responses, and his hearty zeal in singing 
the praises of God, had a remarkable effect on the whole 
congregation. This was particularly visible at the Manks 
service, which was set up in the town of Douglas in the 
year 1794, for the accommodation of the poor ; and at 
which he offered to officiate gratuitously as clerk. The 
devout and animated manner in which he discharged this 
office, will long be remembered by those who attended that 
delightful service. 

The doors of the church were seldom, if ever, open, 
either on the Lord's day or on week days, but he was found 
to make one of the congregation. He often blessed God 
that, for nearly twenty years of his life, he had never been 
prevented, for one Sabbath, from attending the house of the 
Lord. This he considered as an inestimable privilege. He 
was entirely free from all bigotry and party spirit. He was 
a truly scriptural Christian. He loved and revered the 
Divine image wherever he beheld it ; and one of his favor- 
ite sentiments was, that true Christians are of the same 
spirit and temper wherever they are found. A few weeks 
before his death, a friend made him a present of a few of 
the Tracts published by "The Religious Tract Society." 
These he regarded as a rich treasure ; and was in haste to 
circulate them among his aquaintances. 

A short character of this inestimable man appeared some 



14 LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

time ago in " Tlie Manks Advertiser," which it may not be 
improper to introduce here : 

" Much is it to be lamented, that examples of Christian 
piety are so rarely seen. They are, however, more numer- 
ous than careless observers imagine. In the quiet scenes 
of domestic life, in poverty, in sickness and affliction, real 
piety often passes her days, unnoticed and unobserved. A 
few select friends, or a narrow circle of acquaintance, mark, 
admire, and love these 'partakers of the Divine nature;' 
but to a busy, bustling, noisy world, they are utterly un- 
known. With one of these retired monuments of piety the 
writer of these lines has the happiness of being personally 
and intimately acquainted. 

" Though the lot of this Christian of the primitive 
school has fallen in almost the lowest class of society ; 
though his privations are many, and his temporal enjoy- 
ments few ; though the coarsest viands furnish his daily 
repast, and a neighboring spring supplies his constant bev- 
erage ; though his mean apartment contains no more than 
the furniture of the prophet's chamber, ' a bed, a table, a 
stool, and a candlestick,' yet is he perpetually cheerful, 
thankful, and happy. He views the bright side of every 
object, and traces the goodness of the Creator wherever he 
directs his view. 

" His piety renders him a most interesting companion ; 
his familiar acquaintance with the oracles of Truth has 
furnished his mind with the most sublime sentiments, such 
as Socrates would have listened to with silent admiration, 
and Plato have heard with rapturous joy. His continual 
converse is with prophets, apostles, and martyrs, who have 
taught him to think well, to speak well, to do icelL He may 
justly be styled a 'practical Cliristian, as all his readings, 
meditations, and prayers, have an immediate and direct 



IJFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. J5 

influence on his life and conversation. He sees the shadows 
of the evening drawing on, ' with hopes full of immortality ;' 
and his silver locks remind him to pass his remaining days 
as a pilgrim, with his staff in his hand, ready to depart. 

" ' For these many years,' to use his own language, ' he 
has not promised himself a to-morrow,' but closes his eyes, 
every night, unsolicitous ^vhether he awake in this world or 
another. Under the homely garb and obscure appearance 
of this lowly Christian, the reflecting mind traces the future 
angel ; and through the surrounding cloud of indigence and 
infirmity, perceives a ray of the Divinity shine forth. The 
period is not very distant, when princes and emperors may 
envy this pious inhabitant of a garret." 

No wonder that the end of such a life of solid piety, 
resulting from faith in Christ Jesus, should be peace and firm 
reliance on him for salvation. A short time before his 
departure, the writer of these pages visited him for the last 
time, and found him patiently waiting for his change. At 
parting, a hope being expressed, that, if they met no more 
in this world, they should meet in a better ; " O yes," said 
he, with the confidence of one who knew in whom he be- 
lieved, "we shall meet in heaven." In this composed and 
happy frame of mind he continued till the hour of his dis- 
solution arrived. On Friday, 27th May, 1808, he entered 
into rest, in the 78th year of his age. 

His funeral was attended by a great concourse of people 
of all ranks. At the grave, a poor woman was observed to 
weep bitterly ; being asked the reason of her grief, she 
said, that she had for some time past received a weekly pen- 
sion from Lhe deceased, and that by his death she had lost 
one of the best and kindest of friends. The gentleman and 
the besear, the stranijer and the native, seemed to vie with 



IQ LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

each other in paymg the last tribute of respect to the mem- 
ory of this real Christian. To a numerous congregation a 
sermon was delivered from Rev. 10 : 5, 6, in which the fol- 
lowing character of the deceased was given. 

" A personal and intimate acquaintance with our de- 
parted friend, for several years, enables me to speak of his 
religious attainments with much confidence. A more emi- 
nent example of constant and uniform piety has seldom 
appeared. His religion, flowing from a heart renewed by 
Divine grace, was lively and practical ; not confined to the 
closet, nor the church, but regulating his thoughts, and 
words, and actions, through every hour of the day, so that 
it might with the strictest truth be said of him, that he was 
' in the fear of the Lord all the day long.' Long before the 
sons of business or of pleasure awoke from their repose, this 
vigilant servant of the Lord v/as employed in his room, or 
in his solitary walks, in the delightful exercises of prayer 
and praise. His earnest and marked devotion in our solemn 
assemblies was truly animating and edifying to all around 
him ; proving that he was ' fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord.' 

" It was not in the house of prayer alone that the power 
of Divine grace shone forth in the piety of our departed 
brother ; but it appeared at all times and in all places. 
When silent, his very looks proclaimed the devout exercises 
of his mind ; and when he spoke, his tongue declared that 
his heart was fixed on ' things above.' His conversation 
was always cheerful, edifying, and scriptural. So richly 
did ' the word of Christ dwell in him,' that he seldom used 
any other language than that of inspiration. To hear him 
converse, was almost like searching the Scriptures. Some 
passage from the sacred volume was the constant theme 
of his discourse ; and particularly those passages which 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 17 

speak of the mercy and goodness of God, and the wonders 
of redeeming love. In this marked religious deportment 
there was not the least affectation of sanctity, but heart, and 
tongue, and life conspired to testify that all was genuine 
and sincere. His conduct in private corresponded with his 
conduct in public ; and his behavior towards his friends and 
neighbors was perfectly consistent with his prayers, and 
psalms, and hymns. The same divine principle influenced 
his whole life and conversation, and constrained him to 
abound in offices of love and charity, to the utmost of his 
power. Though he had but little to give, yet gladly and 
cheerfully did he give of that little ; and often has he liter- 
ally bestowed his last mite. 

" The effect of this steady and uniform piety, was con- 
stant peace and secret joy. The power of religion to com- 
municate a happiness which the world can neither give nor 
take away, has seldom appeared more evidently than in the 
case of our deceased brother. With few of the outward 
comforts or accommodations of life, he possessed a treasure 
within, which made him richer tTian the kings of the earth. 
The description which the apostle gives of the first disciples 
of our Lord, may justly be applied to our departed friend, 
' as unknown, yet well known ; as sorrowful, yet always 
rejoicing ; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.' 

" Very lately was he heard to declare, that though there 
might be many fellow Christians as happy as he was, he 
believed there was none happier. His happiness was built 
upon ' the Rock of Ages,' and grounded on the promises of 
that true and faithful Witness, who is ' the same yesterday, 
to-day, and for ever.' His whole dependence was on the 
precious merits and grace of his Redeemer. None but 
Christ, none but Christ, was the language of his heart. 
Having ' fought a good fight,' having ' kept the faith,' hav- 



18 LIFE OF WILLIAM KF.LLY. 

ing ' finished his course,' he looked forward to his dissolution 
with hopes full 'of immortality.' He had long regarded 
' death as the messenger wliich was to bear him to his ever- 
lasting home ; and had often, with pleasure in his looks, 
pointed out the little spot where he wished his mortal 
remains to rest. There let them rest till the morning of the 
resurrection, when this distinguished follower of Christ shall 
be made equal to the angels, and shine as a star in the fir- 
mament of heaven." 

From the foregoing narrative, the reader may learn 
many useful and important lessons. 

1. How unsearchable are the riches of Divine grace, 
and how unbounded the goodness of God ! Who that had 
seen William Kelly in his unconverted state, wallowing in 
the mire of sin, and "committing iniquity with greediness," 
could ever have supposed that he was to become an eminent 
example of piety, and deserve and obtain the title of " The 
Happy Christian." If the reader be of the number of those 
careless and tlioughtless sinners who are hurrying on to 
the brink of ruin, destroying their health, their substance, 
their families, and their peace, and exposing themselves to 
eternal misery by indulging in the brutal sin of drunken- 
ness — let him stop for a moment, and attentively consider 
the state of a man, who, like himself, was once '•' seeking 
death in the error of his ways," and yet afterwards, by 
Divine grace, was awakened and converted, " renewed in 
the spirit of his mind," and "filled with all joy and peace 
in believing." Let him learn from this example not to 
despair of obtaining an entire conquest over his prevailing 
sin, and of becoming " temperate in all things." Let him 
not, however, delay one hour to employ the same means. 
Let him have recourse to secret and earnest prayer to 



LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 



19 



Almighty God, for the pardon of his sins through the merits 
and intercession of Jesus Christ ; let him also attend to holy 
meditation, to the devout reading of the Scriptures, and the 
diligent use of all the appointed means of grace. Let him, 
'like the example now proposed to his imitation, earnestly 
pray that the Holy Spirit would renew his heart, and enable 
him to " cast away all his transgressions whereby he hath 
transgressed ;" then shall he too be " washed and sancti- 
fied," and "justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by 
the Spirit of our God." 

2. The life of this happy Christian discovers, in the 
clearest manner, the power of real religion to give solid rest 
and peace to the soul in all circumstances. In a cold and 
cheerless garret, which to thousands of the sons of men 
would have been as comfortless as a prison, lived one of the 
most cheerful and most contented of men. To him this 
retired corner was the seat of peace, and " the gate of 
heaven." Here he maintained sweet communion with God, 
and often '•' rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full of glory." 
The Bible was the source from which he derived perpetual 
consolation. Like " The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain," he 
had often "■ little to eat ; but his Bible was meat, drink, and 
company to him." 

3. The example of William Kelly further shows, how 
little will supply the real wants of man, and how indepen- 
dent real religion makes its possessor of the world, and all 
that it contains. While the busy multitude are wearing 
away life in toilsome labors and anxious wishes to increase 
their possessions ; while they are earnestly employed in 
adding "house to house, and field to field ;" and are losing 
the comforts of the present hour, in making provision for 
years which may never come ; the contented Christian, who 
wants no more than " food to eat, and raiment to put on," 



20 LIFE OF WILLIAM KELLY. 

passes his time cheerfully and thankfully, and enjoys a large 
measure of happiness here, at the same time looking, by 
faith in Jesus Christ, to a happiness hereafter, which shall 
never end. He knows that there is a sufficiency for him in 
the inexhaustible storehouse of Providence, and is assured 
that " all thinos shall work together for his o-ood." 

o o o 

Few persons can hope to benefit thousands ; but every 
reader of this Tract, if rightly disposed, may benefit a few. 
However low his station in life may be ; however unnoticed 
and unknown he may pass his days ; he cannot, in these 
respects, exceed the subject of the foregoing narrative, who 
yet, by the power of religion, became eminent, and eminently 
useful. Let the reader from this hour resolve, by the grace 
of God, to imitate the bright example which has now been 
set before him ; and following him, as he followed Christ, 
he will, in God's due time, join him among the ransomed 
throng, who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises 
in the eternal kingdom of glory. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Xo. 76. 

TO-DAY! 



To-day means the present time. In this view how pre- 
cious and important is every moment ! Is it not as if it 
were said, heaven or hell hangs upon a moment ? O, fear- 
ful thought ! I tremble while I write. " God, be merciful 
to me a sinner !" The present moment is given you to seek 
the salvation of your soul ; but of another moment no man 
living is certain. 

It is affirmed, that " by the circulation of the blood 
through the heart and lungs, in which motion is consumed 
and motion renewed every moment, the question is put above 
three thousand times every hour, and above a hundred thou- 
sand times every day and night of our lives, whether we 
shall stay in this world, or be in heaven or hell to eternity! 
Alarming consideration — tremendous thought." O God ! 
"I am fearfully and wonderfully made." 

Now, what are the solemn warnings of Scripture, in ref- 
erence to the time in which we are called upon to make our 
peace with God ? Let us hear ! " Acquaint now thyself 
with him, and be at peace." " To-day, if you will hear his 
voice, harden not your heart." " Behold, now is the ac- 
cepted time ; behold, 7iow is the day of salvation." 

Are you, then, seeking God, that your soul may live ? 
How many prayers have you presented for an interest in 
Christ ? How much time have you set apart for secret 
devotion ? God and his glorious perfections, Christ and his 
salvation, the Holy Ghost and his blessed operations, are all 
nothing to the unconverted man. What are they to you 7 
What are ordinances, Sabbaths, the Bible, and means of 
grace to you ? " To them that believe," all these things 
are " precious." 

VOL. III. 5* 



2 TO-DAY. 

" As the Lord livetli, and as thy soul liveth, there may 
be but a step between thee and death." "Pause, ponder, 
pray." Sparing mercy, what a mercy ! Of more worth 
than ten thousand worlds. Had he dealt with thee accord- 
ing to thy sins, thy body would have been in the grave, and 
thy soul in hell ! But wonder, O heavens ! thou art yet on 
earth reading a little book, a messenger of mercy, which is 
telling thee that the God who can bless thee for ever, or 
curse thee for ever, is inviting and entreating, nay, even 
beseeching thee to escape his curse, and accept his blessing. 

O, if thou didst but know the value of thy precious soul, 
the w^orth of God's great salvation, and the blessedness of 
an opportunity in which to seek his face, thou wouldst not 
lose a moment : thou wouldst fall upon thy knees and plead 
for mercy, as a famishing man would plead for food ; as a 
condemned criminal would plead for pardon ; and as a dying 
man would plead for life. And yet it may be that thou art 
unconcerned about these things, as if there were no hell to 
be avoided, or heaven to be enjoyed ! If so, how deplorable 
and lamentable is thy condition ! 

Didst thou ever consider the icorth of time, in reference 
to eternity ? How does time appear to the dying sinner ? 
" O that my time were to come over again, how much better 
would I spend it. O that God would but spare me a little 
longer, that I might recover strength and redeem time." A 
dying sinner, upon hearing the clock strike, cried out, " O 
time, time, it is fit thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to 
the heart : how art thou fled for ever ! O, for a month ! a 
single week ! I ask not for years ; though an age were too 
little for what I have to do." 

But, who knoweth not that time cannot he recalled ? No 
force of medicine, no orator's elegant persuasions, no world- 
ling's wealth, no prince's power, can call back one day or 
hour of time. If they could, what endeavois would there 



be used, when extremity has taught them to value what 
they now despise ? What would not be done at last, if time 
could be purchased for any thing that man could give ? 
Then misers would bring out their wealth, and say. All 
tills will I give for one day's more space for repentance. 
And lords and knights would lay down their honors, and 
say, Take all and let us be the basest beggars, if we might 
but have one year of that time which we misspent. Ah, no ! 
it cannot, will not be ; time gone, is gone for ever ; it must 
therefore be to-day ! 

Of what vast importance is a single hour, nay, a moment, 
as affording an opportunity for the exercise of repentance 
towards God, and faith towards our Lord Jesus Christ ; both 
which acts are absolutely necessary to your salvation. 

Perhaps you are young, in the bloom of life : health cir- 
culates in your veins ; you feel neither cares nor pains ; 
you think it is but the morning of life with you, that you 
have a long day before you, and therefore you say that it is 
too early for you to think about God and religion. Now is 
not your time. No. You think (and it may be only a 
thought) that you must and will have a little more pleasure 
in the world ; that when you are married, or settled in life, 
or aged, and can enjoy the world no longer, then you will 
be religious. In your opinion, it is time to think upon God 
when you can think of nothing else ! Now, what if we put 
your conduct into words, for actions speak as well as words. 
What do you say in effect but this : " God may say what 
he will, but I am resolved to do as I please. I must and 
will have my pleasure here, if I endure the pains of hell 
hereafter. God may say, now ; but I must and will say, wo." 
So then he and you are at perfect variance. He is opposing 
you, and you are opposing him. And, " woe unto him that 
striveth with his Maker." He says, " Remember now thy 
Creator in the days of thy youth." But you say, "I will 



4 TO-DAY. 

think upon thee when I am old and gray-headed." He 
says, " Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness." But you say, " No, that is tlie last thing I will 
seek." His command is, " Acquaint now thyself with him, 
and be at peace, thereby good shall come unto thee." But 
your conduct says, that you have friends and companions 
whom you love much better than you love God, and that 
you have no inclination to acquaint yourself with him ! You 
say to him, " Depart from me ; I desire not the knowledge of 
thy ways." And are you, then, thus minded? What! 
resolved to trifle with your soul, and neglect this great sal- 
vation ! Well, then, " Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, 
and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth ; but 
know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into 
judgment." But, " because there is wrath, beware lest he 
take thee away with a stroke ; then a great ransom cannot 
deliver thee." 

Perhaps, reader, you are now in the busy scenes of life ; 
and what you shall eat, and what you shall drink, and what 
you shall wear, are considerations which swallow up all your 
cares. At present you say you can attend to nothing else. 
You remind me of him who, being asked if he had seen the 
eclipse, said, " No ; I have so much to do with earth, that I 
have no time to look at the heavens." O thoughtless mortal ! 
remember, there must be a time to die, for " it is appointed 
unto men once to die ; but after ibis the judgment." 

How awful, that amidst all the means and mercies 
aflbrdcd you, you are becoming not at all more prepared for 
death ! Not one degree more fit for heaven ; but, alas, 
alas, abundantly more fit for hell ! Dying in this condition, 
w^hat will you do ? Where will you flee for refuge ? " How 
will you escape, if you neglect so great salvation ?" " If 
the righteous be scarcely saved, where shall the ungodly 
and the sinner appear ]" 



TO-DAY. 5 

When the great day of his wrath is come, how will you 
be able to stand ? What will you say to him ? It will 
then be found that his warnings and invitations, his prom- 
ises and threatenings, have all been lost upon you ! It 
will then appear that you have shut your eyes against the 
light, your ears against the truth, your conscience against 
all remonstrances, and your heart against all the proposals 
and entreaties of his love and grace ! Then, O then, you 
will see, but too late, how you have resisted Sind rejected 
the counsel of God against your soul ! Allow me again to 
ask what you will say to him when summoned to the bar 
of judgment and the secrets of all hearts shall be open ? 
You will be found speechless ! Silent in darkness ! But 
if you will then be dumb before him, what will he say to 
you ? Probably he will address you in language similar to 
the following : 

" O, sinner ! your soul is lost for ever ! Various have 
been the means I have used to call you to repentance. 
Messenger after messenger I have sent to you, to awaken 
you to a sense of danger and of duty. In my word, and by 
my ministers, I entreated, nay, besought you to be recon- 
ciled unto me. By them I promised to pardon, and threat- 
ened to punish. I said, ' Return unto me, and I will return 
unto you.' I said, ' Come now, and let us reason together : 
though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; 
though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.' 
I said, ' As I live, saith the Lord, I have no pleasure in 
the death of a sinner; wherefore turn ye and live.' Now 
therefore judge, I pray you, what could I have done more 
than I have done to call you to repentance ? But, alas, 
air has been in vain ; you loved sin, and hated holiness ; 
you have slighted mercy, abused grace, and, to complete 
your misery, you have neglected my salvation ! And now, 
you and I must part for ever ! Justice and righteousness. 



Q TO-DAV. 

truth and holiness, yea, the kindness you have abused, 
and the goodness you have despised, all combine together 
and constrain me to execute the tremendous sentence upon 
you, and to say before an assembled world, ' Depart, ye 
cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his 
angels.' " 

Let us for a moment imagine that we see the effect pro- 
duced by this awful sentence, and hear the doleful lamenta- 
tion of a soul in hell ! 

" O wretched being that I am ! I am lost for ever ! The 
die is cast, the doom is fixed, the sentence is pronounced, 
and all is over and unalterable for ever ! There is no hope, 
no rest, no relief, no, not a moment's peace of mind or ease 
of body for eternity. I am punished with everlasting de- 
struction ! I can neither live nor die ! I am in hell, in the 
blackness of darkness for ever ! ' O send Lazarus to dip 
the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am 
tormented in this flame.' But it cannot be. All the bless- 
ings in the Bible I rejected, and now all the curses in that 
book have overtaken me ! and I am utterly consumed with 
terrors ! Death, darkness, despair, and damnation, are my 
everlasting portion ! O who, who can dwell with devour- 
ing fire ? Time is lost — heaven is lost — happiness is lost — 
and I am lost, lost ^br ever!'' 

" O sing praises unto God, sing praises ; sing praises 
unto our King, sing praises. Praise the Lord from the 
heavens ; praise ye him, all his angels ; praise ye him, all 
his hosts : kings of the earth, and all people ; princes, and 
all judges of the earth. Both old men and maidens, young 
men and children, praise ye the name of the Lord." 
What ! because a soul is lost in hell ! O no, my dear 
reader, but because you are not in hell ! You are yet on 
earth, and, if you are prevailed upon to seek his face, may 
vet be in heaven ! O then 



TO-DAY. 7 

" moments seize, 

Heaven's on their wing : a moment vre may Avish, 
When worlds want wealth to buy." 

"Escape for thy life;" "fly for refuge to the hope set 
before thee in the Gospel." "Let the wicked forsake his 
way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts : and let him re- 
turn to the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him ; and 
to our God, for he will abundantly pardon." 

My dearly beloved reader, what can be said to you, to 
engage your concern for your soul ? Will you have no 
pity upon your soul ? God, Christ, angels, and saints pity 
it — and will you have no pity for your precious soul ? God 
forbid. To-day you are among the living — to-morrow you 
may be among the dead — God grant that you may never 
be among the damned. 

Now, perhaps you are in health, in the exercise of all 
the bodily and mental powers ; soon, disease may arrest you 
and deprive you of them all. Now, if you ask, it will be 
given, if you seek you shall find, and if you knock it will 
be opened ! But if, after all that God has done or man can 
say, you will neglect your soul and his salvation, you must 
be lost for ever ! And he will one day say, " I called, but 
you refused ! I stretched out my hand, and no man regard- 
ed ; you set at nought my counsel, and would none of my 
reproof I will also laugh at your calamity ; I will mock 
when your fear cometh." 

My dear reader, it is possible that he who made you, 
can make you miserable for ever, or happy for ever ! Can 
he do these things ? If so, this one thought alone ought to 
awaken your attention, and alarm your fears; and you 
must be dead in sin, deeply infatuated, yea, "twice dead," 
and assuredly in danger of eternal damnation, if you are 
not earnestly seeking to obtain the favor of the Almighty. 

If, therefore, there be any blessedness in deliverance 



Q TO-DAY. 

fi'om the horrors of an eternally agonizing conscience ; if 
any thing blessed in rest, and peace, and joy, without inter- 
ruption or end ; in one word, if there be any thing blessed 
in having the God of heaven for your Friend and Father, 
and all that he can do to make you happy for ever ; I say, 
if there be any thing blessed in any or all these things — by 
them all I beseech you to " seek the Lord while he may be 
found, and to call upon him while he is near;" for, "be- 
hold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of 
salvation." Now the compassionate Saviour stands with 
open arms, longing to receive and save returning sinners. 
Now he promises his Holy Spirit to them that ask him. 
Now, in the Gospel he pleads with you ; " Come unto me, 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest !" " Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast 
out !" Now the Holy Spirit pleads : " Whosoever will, let 
him take of the water of life freely." "He (Jesus) was 
made sin for us, w^ho knew no sin, that we might be made 
the righteousness of God in him." God is love ! He will- 
eth not your death ; he has given his only begotten Son, 
that you should not perish. He will blot out all your sins, 
if you come to him, to Jesus, who has bought you with his 
own blood. To-day there is time ! O come to Jesus to-day ! 
" Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as 
snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as 
wool ;" and, because your heart is deceitful and desperate- 
ly wicked, he has promised to give you a new heart and a 
right spirit. The Holy Ghost will work this great work in 
you. Have you no desire, no prayer, no wish for pardon 
and salvation ? O, could you know his love, his presence, 
and the riches of his grace, you would not slight it. He 
delighteth in mercy ! Come then, O come to Jesus to-day ! 
Remember, O remember he hath said, " To-DAY, if you 

WILL HEAR HIS VOICE, HARDEN NOT YOUR HEART." 



No. 77. 

THE 

HISTORY OF A BIBLE; 

DESCRIBING 

ITS HAPPY INFLUEInTCE 



THE MEMBERS OF DIFFERENT FAMILIES, INTO WHOSE LIBRARIES 
IT GAINED ADMISSION. 




After remaining a close prisoner for some months, in a 
bookseller's shop, I was liberated, and taken to the country 
to be a companion to a young gentleman who had lately 
become major. The moment I entered the parlor where 
he sat, he rose up and took me in his hands, expressing his 
surprise at the elegance of my dress, which was scarlet, 
embroidered with gold. The whole family seemed greatly 
pleased with my appearance ; but they would not permit me 
to say one word. After their curiosity was satisfied, they 
desired me to sit down upon a chair in the corner of the room. 

VOL. III. 6 



2 HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 

In the evening I was taken up stairs, and confined in the 
family prison, called by them the library. Several thousand 
prisoners were under the same sentence, standing in rows 
around the room ; they had their names written upon their 
foreheads, but none of them were allowed to speak. 

We all remained in this silent, inactive posture for some 
years. Now and then a stranger was admitted to see us : 
these generally wondered at our number, beauty, and the 
order in which we stood ; but our young jailer would never 
allow a person to touch us, or take us from our cell. 

A gentleman came in one morning, and spoke in high 
commendation of some Arabians and Turks who stood at 
my right side ; he said they would afford fine entertainment 
on a winter evening. Upon this recommendation, they 
were all discharged from prison, and taken down stairs. 
After they had finished their fund of stories, and had nothing 
more to say, they were remanded back to prison, and one, 
who called himself Don Quixotte, was set at liberty. This 
mati, being extremely witty, afforded fine sport for William, 
(for that was our proprietor's name.) Indeed, for more than 
a fortnight, he kept the whole house in what is called good- 
humor. After Quixotte had concluded his harangues, Wil- 
liam chose a " Man of Feeling " fjr his companion, who 
wrought upon his passions in a way which pleased him 
vastly. William now began to put a higher value upon his 
prisoners, and to use them much more politely. Almost 
daily he held a little chit-chat with one prisoner or another. 
Mr. Hume related to him the history of England down to 
the Revolution, which he interspersed with a number of 
anecdotes about Germany, France, Italy, and various other 
kingdoms. Dr. Robertson then described the state of South 
America when first discovered, and related the horrid bar- 
barities committed by the Spaniards, when they stole it from 
the natives. William wept when he heard of their savage 
treatment of Montezuma. Rollin next spoke : he related 
to him the rise and fall of ancient empires ; he told him 



HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 3 

that God was supreme governor among the nations ; that he 
raises up one to great power and splendor, and putteth down 
another. He told him, what he did not know before, that 
God had often revealed to some men events which were to 
happen hundreds of years afterwards, and directed him to 
converse with me, and I could fully inform him on that 
subject, William resolved to converse with me at a future 
period, but having heard some of his relations speak rather 
disrespectfully of me, he was in no hurry. At length my 
prison door was unlocked, and I was conducted to his bed- 
room. 

My first salutation struck William. In the beginning, 
said 1, God made the heavens and the earth ; and then pro- 
ceeded to make man, whom he placed in a garden, with 
permission to eat of every tree that was in it, except one. 
I then related the history of Adam, the first man : how he 
was urged and prevailed upon by the devil not to mind 
God's prohibition, but to eat of the forbidden tree ; and how 
by this abominable act he had plunged himself and his pos- 
terity into misery. William, not relishing this conversation, 
closed my mouth, desiring me to say no more at that time. 

A few days afterwards, he allowed me to talk of the 
wickedness of the old world : how God sent Noah to reprove 
their iniquity, and to threaten the destruction of the v/hole 
world, if they did not repent and turn to the Lord ; that 
the world were deaf to his remonstrances ; and that God at 
last desired Noah to build an ark of wood, such as would 
contain himself and family ; for he was soon to destroy the 
inhabitants of the earth by a deluge of water. This con- 
versation was rather more relished than the former. 

The next opportunity, I gave him a history of the ancient 
patriarchs, showing the simplicity, integrity, and holiness 
of their lives, extolling their faith in God, and promptness 
in obeying all his commandments. William became much 
more thoughtful than I had seen him upon any former occa- 
sion. What I told him he generally related to his friends 



4 HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 

at table. Their conversation was now more manly and 
rational ; formerly they conversed only about horses, hounds, 
dress, etc., now about the history of the world, its creation, 
the remarkable men who had lived in it, the different 
changes which had taken place in empires, kingdoms, etc. 

He was wonderfully taken with the account I gave of 
that nation whom God had chosen for his own people, viz. 
the Jews. I told him how wonderfully God delivered them 
from captivity in Egypt ; how he drowned in the Red Sea 
an army of Egyptians, with their king at their head, who 
were pursuing the Jews, But when I told him of the holy 
law of God, and expatiated a little upon it, he shrugged up 
his shoulders and said it was too strict for him. Well, 
William, said I, cursed is every one who continueth not in 
all things written or commanded in that law. He pushed 
me aside, ran down stairs, and soon became sick and fever- 
ish. His mother begged of him to tell her of his sudden 
distress. He said 1 had alarmed him exceedingly ; that he 
found himself a great sinner, and saw no mercy for him in 
the world to come. His mother came running up stairs, 
and in the heat of passion locked me into my old cell, where 
I remained in close confinement for some days. But Wil- 
liam could not dispense with my company ; accordingly I 
was sent for. I found him very pale and pensive ; however, 
I faithfully told him, that the imaginations of the thoughts 
of the heart are only evil, and that continually. He said 
he lately began to feel that ; he had tried to make it better, 
but could not. Upon this a stranger entered the room, and 
I was hid at the back of a sofa, because the family were 
quite ashamed that I should be seen talking with William. 
The stranger remarked that he had seen him talking with 
me, assured him that I would do him much more harm than 
good ; that I had occasioned great confusion in the world, 
by driving many people mad. On this, they all joined in 
scandalizing my character, and I was again confined to my 
old cell. 



HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 5 

But when my God enables me to fix an arrow in any 
sinner's heart, the whole universe cannot draw it out. Wil- 
liam was always uneasy when I was not wdth him ; conse- 
quently he paid me many a stolen visit. I told him one day 
not to trust in riches, for they often took to themselves wings, 
and flew from one man to another, as Grod directed them. 
Job once possessed houses, lands, sheep, a flourishing fam- 
ily, all of which were taken from him in a few hours ; but 
God never forsook him. 

William's friends got him persuaded to take a tour for a 
few weeks, to remove the gloom which hung upon his mind. 
He did so ; but he returned more dejected than ever. The 
moment he arrived, I was sent for to talk with him. 1 di- 
rected him to behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the 
sins of the world : I said, thepe was no other name given 
under heaven among men, but the name of Jesus, by which 
they could be saved ; that God so loved the world, as to send 
his Son into it, to save it by his death. I then went over the 
whole history of the Saviour, from his birth at Bethlehem, 
to his death on Calvary ; describing his resurrection, and 
pointing out the evidence of it ; then led his attention to 
Bethany, describing the marvellous circumstances attending 
his ascension to his Father ; and testified to him the won- 
derful effects which followed, in the immense increase of 
conversions to the faith. I then enlarged upon Christ's 
commission to his apostles, commanding them to publish to 
every creature under heaven the glad news, that Christ had 
died for the ungodly, had finished redemption, and ascended 
up on high to receive gifts for men, and to bestow them on 
all who believed God's testimony concerning him. 

God opened the mind of William to perceive the impor- 
tance and truth of these things. He began to hope in God, 
through the offering of his Son a sacrifice for sin. I ad- 
vised him now to follow holiness, without which no man 
shall see the Lord in heaven, or can continue to see his 
glory on earth ; to have no fellowship with wicked men ; to 

VOL. III. e*' 



Q HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 

be a faithful steward of whatever God had given him. I 
told him how Christ rewarded those who overcame all their 
enemies through faith in his blood, and by believing the 
word of his testimony. This conversation made him very 
happy, and he left me, rejoicing in the Lord. 

Some time after, he came with a sorrowful heart, com- 
plaining that he did not feel the Lord's presence : that God 
had forsaken him. I assured him that was impossible ; for 
God expressly says he will 7iever leave nor forsake his 
people ; and that he changes not in his love to them. I 
warned him to be cautious how he spoke against God ; for 
such language is calling God a liar. I told him, likewise, 
that the church had once preferred a similar complaint 
against her God ; upon which Jehovah protested that it was 
possible for a mother to forsake her infant child, but impos- 
sible for him ever to leave or forsake his people ; for he had 
pledged his word to the contrary. Wherefore I warned 
him to be no more faithless, but believing ; and by doing 
so, he would glorify God greatly before men : it would tend 
to make men think more favorably of God, and probably 
lead some to seek an interest in his favor, who otherwise 
would not. Upon this he cried out with tears, Lord, I be- 
lieve, help thou my unbelief. I change in my love, but 
thou changest not. William left me, determined to rejoice 
evermore, and to pray without ceasing. 

At first his friends thought religion had made him less 
happy than he was before ; now they declared they had 
never seen him in such good spirits, and so truly happy. 
They began to wish they were like him. William longed 
for the coming of the Lord, while they trembled at the very 
thought of it: they rather wished he might never come. 
This was a great advantage he had over them, by the grace 
and tender mercy of the Lord. He exhorted them to come 
to the same Saviour, and he would receive them also with 
open arms. 

William was afterwards brought into great affliction. I 



HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 7 

told him God sent it to him for good, to make him more 
holy, humble, dead to sin and the world, and more fit for 
heaven. He believed me, and praised God for his attention 
to him, to send this messenger of affliction to do him good. 
A person who came in, expressed sorrow at seeing him so 
pained. William replied. Don't sorrow for me ; rejoice 
rather, because God has said that our light afflictions, which 
are but for a moment, work out for us a far more exceeding 
and an eternal weight of glory. I am willing to be sick, or 
to recover, just as God pleases; whatever pleases him, 
pleases me. 

I was never from him during his sickness ; he praised 
God daily that he had ever seen me. He was happy only 
when he talked with me or about me. He recommended 
me to all who came near him, declaring that my words 
created a heaven in his soul. He found me to be the 
mouth of God to him. 

William was completely recovered from his indisposi- 
tion ; by which his knowledge of God, and experience of 
his faithfulness and love, were much increased. I con- 
tinued his bosom companion for many years. He walked 
in the fear of God, and in the comforts of his Holy Spirit, 
till at length he entered, with triumph, into the eternal joy 
of his Lord. 

After conducting William to the gates of the New Jeru- 
salem, I was sent for to reside with a young man in the 
middling ranks of life, who had received a liberal and re- 
ligious education from his parents, lately removed from this 
poor world. The effects of their example and counsel were 
evident in all his conduct. He lived what men call a good 
moral life, his deportment was very agreeable, and his so- 
briety was commended by many. He regularly conversed 
with me twice every day, and prayed in his closet morning 
and evening. On Sabbath I talked to him from dinner to 
tea, and from tea to supper. 



8 HISTORY OF A RIBLE. 

An old uncle of his perpetually exhorted him to go 
abroad to amass a fortune. He did not at first relish th« 
advice. One day he consulted me. I plainly told him to 
be content with such things as he had ; not to hasten to be 
rich, for he would thereby pierce himself with many sor- 
rows : that numbers were ruined through the deceitfulness 
of riches. Labor not for the meat that perisheth, said I, 
but for that which endureth to everlasting life. After this 
conversation, he reasoned with his uncle against leaving his 
country and friends, merely to make money in a foreign 
land : he declared that the object was a pitiful one to an 
immortal creature, who must soon bid an eternal adieu to 
the affairs of time. However, after standing his ground for 
some months, he consented to go a voyage to the West 
Indies. 

He set sail from Liverpool, and took me along with him. 
As there were several passengers in the ship, all of whom 
were profane sinners, he was ashamed to let me be seen ; 
of course I was hid in a corner of the state-room, completely 
masked. On the first Sabbath morning, he took a single 
peep at me before the other passengers awoke. I hastily 
told him to remember the Sabbath, to keep it holy ; that 
God was everywhere present to witness the works of men. 
He resolved to abide by my advice, and to keep at as great 
a distance from those on board as he well could. They 
asked him to take a hand at cards, but he refused. Pho ! 
said they, we have got one of your superstitious Christians 
along with us ; we shall have nice sport with him. They 
teased him with his religion the whole day, and poor George 
could not well bear it. One bold sinner asserted, that be- 
fore they reached their destination, they would have all his 
enthusiasm hammered out of him. 

George having none to encourage or countenance him, 
and not possessing firmness sufficient for confessing me 
before men, resolved to dispense with his religion during 
the voyage, and to comply with their abandoned customs 



HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 9 

while he continued in the ship. Thus he fell before temp- 
tation. 

One day, in the midst of his merriment, he recollected 
an advice which I had solemnly given him. It was this : 
When sinners entice thee, consent thou not. Immediately 
he rushed out of the cabin, threw himself on his bed, and 
wept bitterly. He cried out, (but not so loud as to be heard,) 
I have ruined my soul ; O, what would my worthy mother 
have said, had she witnessed my conduct for days past. On 
his return to the cabin, the sadness of his countenance was 
observed by the company ; they laughed heartily, and as- 
sured him that his reluctance to join them in what they 
termed their sociality, arose from the prejudices of education : 
that he must endeavor to banish all his fears of futurity, and 
mind present enjoyment. These, and similar observations, 
gradually unhinged the principles of young George, and be- 
fore reaching their destined port, his checks of conscience 
were almost gone. What a dreadful state, when man's 
conscience ceases to be his reprover ! Men are often glad 
when they obtain this deliverance, but the infatuation is as 
shocking to a pious mind, as to see a man in the flames, 
rejoicing in the heat which will infallibly consume him 
away. 

After the arrival of the ship, we all went ashore ; and 
George was soon fixed in a very advantageous situation for 
money making. When the first Sabbath arrived, he pro- 
tested against transacting business on that day, declaring 
that he had never been accustomed to any thing of that kind. 
They advised him to labor hard seven days in the week, and 
he would return sooner to the country from whence he came. 
They told him that only a few superannuated whites in the 
whole island went to church, and sometimes a few slaves. 
In this manner he was prevailed upon to conform to the 
infidel practices of the place. I told him that for all these 
things God would bring him into judgment; that he was 
like the rest of the wicked, who waxed worse and worse ; 



10 HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 

that he did not love Jesus Christ, else he would keep his 
commandments, notwithstanding all the raillery and reproach 
to which he was exposed. I warned him that whoever was 
ashamed to confess Christ before men, of him would he be 
ashamed in the presence of his Father and the holy angels. 
George began to condemn his uncle for forcing him to leave 
his father's house ; but as he had come off, he was ashamed 
to return. 

In a few months, he became as wicked and abandoned 
as any on the island. He made a present of me to a poor 
native, w^ho could read a little English. I frequently con- 
versed with him, but he could not understand what I said. 
He often desired me to speak to his companions. A few 
were greatly affected with what I said. They often called 
upon me. Sometimes they pleasantly said my words made 
them very happy, they desired to go to that happy world 
which I commended so highly. They fervently prayed to 
Jesus to take them to it. An old slave creeped in one day, 
inquiring if Jesus could do any thing for very bad people. 
I replied, It is a faithful saying, that Christ Jesus came into 
the world to save sinners, even the chi. f. He is able to 
save unto the uttermost all who come unto God through him. 
The black man, bathed in tears, exclaimed, Good book, tell 
me good news ! Like the Ethiopian eunuch, he went away 
rejoicing. 

After some years, I was sent for in great haste to visit 
my old proprietor George, who, by his intemperance, was 
brought to the gates of death. In his affliction he remem- 
bered me. I told him fools make a mock at sin, but sin 
finds them out. God had been long angry with him every 
day. He confessed he had been a great sinner. He said 
that bad company had been his ruin ; that by following their 
example he had destroyed a fine constitution ; that in his 
distress his bottle companions had all forsaken him ; they 
could not bear the thought of death. Had I my days to 
begin again, said he, I would flee from a swearer or a drunk- 



HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 



11 



ard, as I would from the plague. He prayed fervently that 
God would forgive his iniquity for the sake of his Son Jesus 
Christ. His fever increased, and in a few days he went the 
way of all the earth. 

After this, I became the inmate of a respectable family 
which had long been on the island. The master and mis- 
tress were professors of religion, but during their residence 
in the island they had neglected some of its most important 
duties. They had omitted family prayer until thev were 
afraid to resume it, lest they should bring upon themselves 
the contempt of the islanders. They had not been careful 
to train up their children in the fear of the Lord. They 
sometimes consulted me in secret, but I told them that they 
were sinning against God ; that they must not be conformed 
to the world, but must love and serve God with all their 
hearts. But they had not resolution to commence duties 
they had so long neglected. 

At length one of their children became ill and died. 
They came to me for consolation. I gave them to under- 
stand, that it was because they had gone astray that they 
were afflicted, and that their affliction was designed to call 
them back to duty. They were at length persuaded of 
their error, and praised God that he had loved them so much 
as to chastise them. They now strove to serve God with 
all their hearts. They listened to me when I told them that 
they should instruct their children in religion on every 
proper occasion, both when they sat in the house, and when 
they walked by the way. The youth of that family became 
at length distinguished throughout the island for every vir- 
tuous and amiable quality. 

But what did more to make religion respected in that 
house, was the practice of family prayer. I was brought 
out night and morning and permitted to speak before all the 
family, which was seated around the room in a respectful 
and attentive attitude. I seldom spoke with more effect than 
on these occasions. T addressed every member of the family 



12 HISTORY OF A BIBLE. 

in their turn. I commanded the parents to treat their chil- 
dren with mildness, and the children to ohey their parents. 
I told the little ones that Christ took little children in his 
arms and blessed them ; and bade the servants do their duty 
to their master, and the master to be kind to his servants. 
And when my instructions were finished, all in the house 
united in singing a hymn to God ; and I believe they somc?- 
times made melody in their hearts. When they had sung, 
my master would kneel and offer up a humble prayer to 
God. These exercises caused harmony to prevail through- 
out a numerous family. I observed also, that, although the 
inhabitants of the island did not relish my master's piety, 
yet he every day ©btained more and more of their respect, 
in proportion as his piety increased. 

I have lived many years, and have seen all those chil- 
dren grow up (I believe through my instructions) in the 
fear of the Lord. I was by the bedside of their parents 
when the messenger Death came to call them away. I 
spoke to them of the joys of heaven, and of its inhabitants, 
who sing praise to the Lamb, and cease not day nor night. 
They cried, " Lord Jesus, come quickly," and ascended to 
glory. 

I have always been a faithful friend to all who have 
sought acquaintance with me. I will be faithful to thee, 
reader ! I will show thee the only path that leads through 
this world to heaven. Follow my instructions, and you will 
arrive there in safety. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETT, 



Wo. 78. 

CONVERSION 



OF 



ABIGAIL HUTCHIKSOI. 



PRESIDENT EDWARDS' NARRATIVE OF A SURPRISING 
WORK OF GOD IN NORTHAMPTON, MASS., 1735. 



The subject of this narrative was, before her conversion, 
a person of sober and inoffensive manners, and naturally- 
reserved. She had long been feeble in body, but her in- 
firmity had never been observed to incline her to be fanciful, 
or to occasion any thing of religious melancholy. 

She was first awakened in the winter season, on Mon- 
day, by something she heard her brother say of the necessity 
of being in good earnest in seeking regenerating grace, 
together with the news of the conversion of a young woman. 

This news wrought much upon her, and stirred up a 
spirit of envy in her towards this young woman, but withal 
it engaged her in a firm resolution to do her utmost to ob- 
tain the same blessing ; and, considering with herself what 
course she should take, she thought that she had not a suffi- 
cient knowledge of the principles of religion to render her 
capable of conversion ; whereupon she resolved thoroughly 
to search the Scriptures, and immediately began at the be- 
ginning of the Bible, intending to read it through. She 
continued thus till Thursday, and then there was a sudden 
alteration, by a great increase of her concern, and an ex- 
traordinary sense of her own sinfulness ; upon which she 
left off reading the Bible in course, as she had begun, and 
turned to the New Testament, to see if she could not find 
some relief there. 

VOL. III. 7 



2 CONVERSION OF 

The cause of her great terror, she said, was, that she 
had sinned against God. Her distress increased for three 
days, until she saw nothing but the blackness of darkness 
before her, and her very flesh trembled for fear of God's 
wrath. She was astonished at herself, that she had been so 
concerned for her body, and had applied so often to physi- 
cians to heal that, and had neglected her soul. Her sinful- 
ness appeared with a very awful aspect to her, especially in 
three things, viz. her original sin, her sin in murmuring at 
God's providence, and in her want of duty to her parents, 
though others had looked upon her to excel in dutifulness. 
On Saturday, she was so earnestly engaged in reading the 
Bible and other books, that she continued searching for 
something to relieve her, till her eyes were dim. 

While thus engaged in reading, prayer, and other relig- 
ious exercises, she thought of those words of Christ, wherein 
he warns us not to be as the heathen, that think they shall 
be heard for their much speaking, which, she said, led her 
to see that she had trusted to her own prayers and religious 
performances ; and now she knew not where to seek relief. 

While her mind was in this posture, her heart, she said, 
seemed to fly to the minister for refuge. She went, the 
same day, to her brother, with the countenance of a person 
in distress, expostulating with him, because he had not told 
her more of her sinfulness, and earnestly inquiring of him 
what she should do. She seemed, that day, to feel in her- 
self an enmity against the Bible, which greatly afl*righted 
her. 

On the Sabbath she was so ill that her friends thought 
it not best that she should go to public worship, of which 
she seemed very desirous ; but when she went to bed Sab- 
bath night, she took up a resolution that she would, the next 
morning, go to the minister, hoping to find some relief there. 
As she awaked on Monday morning, a little before day, she 
wondered within herself at the calmness she felt, which was 
of a kind she never felt before. As she thought of this, 
such words as these were in her mind : " The words of the 



ABIGAIL HUTCHINSON. 3 

Lord are pure words, health to the soul, and marrow to the 
bones ;" and then these words came to her mind : " The 
blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin ;" which were accom- 
panied with a lively sense of the excellency of Christ, and 
his sufficiency to satisfy for the sins of the whole world. 
By these things her mind was led into such contemplations 
and views of Christ, as filled her with exceeding joy. She 
told her brother, in the morning, that she had seen Christ 
the last night, (that is, by faith,) and that she had really 
thought that she had not knowledge enough to be converted ; 
but, said she, God can make it quite easy ! On Monday 
she felt all day a constant peace in her soul. She had a 
repetition of the same discoveries of Christ three mornings 
together, but brighter and brighter every time. 

At the last time, on Wednesday morning, while in the 
enjoyment of a spiritual view of Christ's glory and fulness, 
her soul was filled with distress for Christless persons, con- 
sidering what a miserable condition they were in ; and she 
felt a strong inclination immediately to go forth to warn 
sinners, and proposed it the next day ; but her brother re- 
strained her, telling her of the unsuitableness of such a 
measure. She told one of her sisters that day, that she 
loved all manltind, but especially the people of God. Her 
sister asked her why she loved all mankind. She replied, 
Because God had made them. After this, there happened 
to come into the shop where she was at work, three persons 
that were thought to have been lately converted ; her see- 
ing them as they stepped, one atler another, into the door, 
so affected her, and so drew forth her love to them, that it 
overcame her, and she almost fainted. And when they be- 
gan to talk of the things of religion, it was more than she 
could bear — they were obliged to cease on that account. It 
was a very frequent thing for her to be overcome with a 
flow of affection to those that she thought godly, in conver- 
sation with them, and sometimes only at the sight of them. 

She had many extraordinary discoveries of the glory of 
God and Christ ; sometimes in some particular attributes, 



4^ C0^• VERSION OF 

and sometimes in many. She gave an account, that once, 
as those four words passed through her mind, wisdom, jus- 
tice, GOODNESS, and truth, her soul was filled with a sense 
of the glory of each of these divine attributes, but espe- 
cially the last. Truth, she said, sunk the deepest ! Her 
mind was swallowed up with such a sense of the glory of 
God's truth and other perfections, that she said it seemed as 
though her life was going, and that she saw it was easy 
with God to take away her life by discoveries of himself. 
Soon after this she went to a private religious meeting, and 
her mind was full of a sense and view of the glory of God 
all the time ; and when the exercise was ended, some asked 
her concerning what she had experienced ; and she began 
to give them an account, but as she related it, it revived 
such a sense of the same things, that her strength failed. 
Afterwards she was greatly affected, and rejoiced with these 
words : Worthy is the Lamb that was slain. 

She had, several days together, a sweet sense of the ex- 
cellency and loveliness of Christ in his meekness, which 
disposed her continually to be repeating over these words, 
which were sweet to her, meek and lowly in heart, meek 
AND LOWLY IN HEART. She ouce exprcsscd herself to one 
of her sisters to this purpose, that she had continued whole 
days and whole nights in a constant view of the glory of 
God and Christ, having enjoyed as much as her life could 
bear. Once, as her brother was speaking of the dying love 
of Christ, she told him that she had such a sense of it, that 
the mere mention of it was enough to overcome her. 

Once she told me, that at such and such a time she 
thought she saw as much of God, and had as much pleasure 
as was possible in this life, but that afterwards God discov- 
ered himself yet far more abundantly, and she saw the 
same things that she had seen before, yet more clearly, 
and in another and far more excellent and delightful man- 
ner, and was filled with a more exceeding joy. She like- 
wise gave me such an account of the sense she had, from 
day to day, of the glory of Christ, and of God, in his various 



ABIGAIL HUTCHINSON. 5 

attributes, that it seemed to me she dwelt for days together 
in a kind of beatific vision of God, and seemed to have, as I 
thought, as immediate intercourse with him, as a child with 
a father; and at the same time she appeared most remote 
from any high thought of herself, and of her own sufficiency, 
but was like a little child, and expressed a great desire to 
be instructed. 

She often expressed a sense of the glory of God appear- 
ing in the trees and growth of the fields, and other works 
of his hands. She told her sister, that she once thought it a 
pleasant thing to live in the middle of the town ; but now, 
said she, I think it much more pleasant to sit and see the 
wind blowing the trees, and to behold what God has made. 
She had sometimes the powerful breathings of the Spirit of 
God on her soul, while reading the Scriptures, and would 
express the sense that she had of their certain truth and 
divinity. She often used to express how good it was to lie 
low before God ; that it was pleasant to think of lying in the 
dust all the days of her life, mourning for sin. She was 
wont to manifest a great sense of her own meanness and 
dependence. She often expressed an exceeding compassion 
and love towards persons destitute of religion, which was 
sometimes so strong, that as she was passing by such in the 
streets, or those that she feared were such, she would be 
overcome by the sight of them. She said that she longed to 
have the whole world saved — she could not bear to have one 
lost. 

She had a great desire to die, that she might be with 
Christ, which increased till she thought she did not know 
how to be patient to wait till God's time should come. But 
once, when she felt these desires, she thought with herself. 
If I long to die, why do I go to physicians ? Whence she 
concluded that her desires for death were not well regulated. 
After this she often put it to herself, which she should 
choose, whether to live or to die, to be sick or to be well ; 
and she found she could not tell, till at last she found herself 
disposed to say these words : "I am 'quite willing to live, 

VOL. III. 7*' 



Q CONVERSION OF 

and quite willing to die ; quite willing to be sick, and quite 
willing to be well ; and quite willing for any thing that God 
will bring upon me ! And then," said she, " I felt myself 
perfectly easy, in a full submission to the will of God." She 
then lamented much, that she had been so eager in her de- 
sire for death, as it argued a want of such resignation to 
God as she ought to have. She seemed henceforward to 
continue in this resigned frame till death. 

After this her illness increased upon her ; and once, after 
she had spent the greater part of the night in extreme pain, 
she awaked out of a little sleep with these words in her 
heart and mouth : "I am willing to suffer for Christ's sake. 
I am willing to spend and be spent for Christ's sake. I am 
willing to spend my life, even my very life for Christ's 
sake !" And though she had an extraordinary resignation, 
with respect to life or death, yet the thoughts -of dying were 
exceedingly pleasant to her. When her brother mentioned 
to her the danger there seemed to be, that the illness she 
then labored under might be the occasion of her death, it 
filled her with joy that almost overcame her. At another 
time, when she met a company following a corpse to the 
grave, she said it was pleasant to her to think, that they 
would in a little time follow her, in like manner. 

Her illness, in the latter part of it, was seated much in 
her throat, and swelling inward filled the passage, so that 
she could swallow nothing but what was perfectly liquid, 
and but very little of that, and with great and strong strug- 
glings, till at last she could swallow nothing at all. She 
had a raging appetite for food, so that she told her sister, 
that the worst bit she threw to the swine would be sweet to 
her ; but yet when she saw that she could not swallow it, 
she seemed to be as perfectly contented without it as if she 
had had no apj>etite. Others were greatly moved to see 
what she suffered, and were filled with admiration at her 
unexampled patience. At a time when she was striving in 
vain to get down a little food, and was very much spent, 
she looked upon her sister with a smile, saying, " O sister, 



ABIG.IIL HUTCHINSON. 7 

this is for my good !" At anotlier time, when her sister was 
speaking of what she suffered, she told her that she lived a 
heaven upon earth for all that. She used sometimes to say- 
to her sister, under her extreme sufferings, " It is good to be 
so !" Her sister once asked her why she- said so. " Why," 
said she, " because God would have it so : it is best that 
things should be as God would have them : it looks best to 
me." After her confinement, as they were leading her 
from the bed to the door, she seemed overcome by the sight 
of things abroad, as showing forth the glory of the Being 
that had made them. As she lay on her death-bed, she 
would often say these words : " God is my friend !" And 
once, looking upon her sister with a smile, she said, " O, 
sister, how good it is ! How sweet and comfortable it is to 
think of heavenly things !" And used this argument to per- 
suade her sister to be much in such meditations. 

She expressed, on her death-bed, an exceeding desire for 
persons in a natural state, that they might be converted ; 
and for the godly, that they might see and know more of 
God. And when those that looked on themselves as unre- 
generate came to see her, she would be greatly moved with 
compassionate affection. The sight of one in particular, 
that seemed to be in great distress about the state of her 
soul, and had come to see her from time to time, so wrought 
on her compassion, that it overcame her bodily nature. The 
same week that she died, when she was in bodily distress, 
some of the neighbors that came to see her, asked if she was 
willing to die. She replied, that she was quite willing 
either to live or die ; she was willing to be in pain ; she was 
willing to be so always as she was then, if that was the will 
of God. She willed what God willed. They asked her 
whether she was willing to die that night. She answered, 
"Yes, if it be God's will;" and seemed to speak all with 
such perfect composure of spirit, and such a cheerful and 
pleasant countenance, that it filled them with admiration. 

She was very weak a considerable time before she died, 
having pined away with famine and thirst, and therefore 



g CONVERSION OF ABIGAIL HUTCHINSON. 

could say but little, and manifested her mind very much by 
signs. She said she had matter enough to fill up all her 
time with conversation, if she had but strength. A few- 
days before her departure, some asked her whether she was 
not afraid of death. She answered, that she had not the 
least degree of fear. They asked her why she would be so 
confident. She answered, " If I should say otherwise, I 
should speak contrary to what I know : there is," said she, 
"indeed a dark entry, but on the other side there appears 
such a bright, shining light, that I cannot be afraid !" She 
said, not long before she died, that she used to be afraid how 
she should grapple with death ; but, said she, " God has 
showed me that he can make it easy in great pain." Sev- 
eral days before she died, she could scarcely say any thing 
but just yes and no, to questions that were asked her, for she 
seemed to be dying for three days ; but seemed to continue 
in an admirable composure of soul, without any interruption, 
to the last ; and died as a person that went to sleep, without 
any struggling, about noon, on Friday, June 27, 1735. 

She had long been infirm, and often had been exercised 
with great pain ; but she died chiefly of famine. It was, 
doubtless, partly owing to her bodily weakness that her 
nature was so often overcome, and ready to sink with gra- 
cious affection ; but yet the truth was, that she had more 
grace, and greater disco veiies of God and Christ, than the 
present frail state did well consist with. She wanted to be 
where strong grace might have more liberty, and be without 
the clog of a weak body ; there she longed to be, and there 
she doubtless now is. She was looked upon among us as a 
very eminent instance of Christian experience ; but this is a 
very broken and imperfect account which I have given. I 
once read it to some of her pious neighbors who were ac- 
quainted with her, who said that the picture fell much short 
of the life, and particularly that it much failed of duly rep- 
resenting her humility, and that admirable lowliness of heart 
that at all times appeared in her. 

FUKLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



]\o. 79, 



YOUNG COTTAGER 

BY REV. LEGH HICHMOND. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE.— ABRIDGED. 



A .^l' 




I SHALL plead no apology for introducing to the notice 
of my readers a few particulars relative to a young female 
Cottager, whose memory is particularly endeared to me, 
from the circumstance of her being, so far as I can discover, 
my first-born spiritual child in the ministry of the Gospel. 
She was certainly the first of whose conversion to God, 
under my own pastoral instruction, I can speak with any 
degree of precision and assurance. 

Every parent of a family knows that there is a very inter- 
esting emotion of heart connected with the birth of his first- 
born child. But may not the spiritual parent be allowed the 



2 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

indulgence of a similar sensation in his connection with the 
children whom the Lord gives him ? If the first-born child 
in nature be received as a new and acceptable blessing, how 
much more so the first-born child in grace ! I claim this privi- 
lege, and crave permission, in writing what follows, to erect a 
monumental record, sacred to the memory of a dear little child, 
who, I trust, will at the last day prove my crown of rejoicing. 

Jane S was the daughter of poor parents, in the vil- 

lage where it pleased God first to cast my lot in the ministry. 
My acquaintance with her commenced when she was twelve 
years of age, by her weekly attendance at my house among 
a number of children whom I regularly instructed every 
Saturday afternoon. 

They used to read, repeat catechisms, psalms, hymns, 
and portions of Scripture. I accustomed them, also, to pass 
a kind of free examination, according to their age and abil- 
ity, in those subjects by which I hoped to see them made 
wise unto salvation. 

In the summer, I frequently used to assemble this little 
group out of doors in my garden, sitting under the shade of 
some trees, which protected us from the heat of the sun. 
From hence a scene appeared which rendered my occupation 
the more interesting. For adjoining the spot where we sat, 
and only separated from us by a fence, was the churchyard, 
surrounded with beautiful prospects in every direction. 

I had not far to look for subjects of warning and exhorta- 
tion suitable to my little flock. I could point to the graves and 
tell my pupils that, young as they were, none of them were 
too young to die; and that probably more than half of the 
bodies which were buried there, were those of little children. 

I told them who was " the resurrection and the life," 
and who alone could take away the sting of death. I used 
to remind them that the hour was " coming in the which all 
that are in the Gjrave shall hear his voice, and shall come 



THE YOUXG COTTAGEK. 3 

forth; they that have done good unto the resurrection of 
life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of 
damnation." I often availed myself of these opportunities 
to call to their recollection the more recent deaths of their 
own relatives. 

Sometimes I sent the children to the various stones which 
stood at the head of the graves, and bade them learn the 
epitaphs inscribed upon them. I took pleasure in seeing 
the little ones thus dispersed in the churchyard, each com- 
mitting to memory a few verses written in commemoration 
of the departed. 

As these children surrounded me, I sometimes pointed to 
the church, spoke to them of the nature of public worship, 
the value of the Sabbath, the duty of regular attendance on 
its services, and urged their serious attention to the means 
of grace. I showed them the sad state of many countries, 
where neither churches nor Bibles were known ; and the 
no less melancholy condition of multitudes at home, who 
sinfully neglect worship, and slight the Word of God. I 
thus tried to make them sensible of their own favors and 
privileges. Neither was I at a loss for another class of ob- 
jects around me from which I could draw useful instruc- 
tions ; for many of the beauties of nature appeared in view. 

Had the sweet Psalmist of Israel sat in this spot, he 
would have glorified God the Creator, by descanting on 
these his handy works. I cannot write psalms, like David ; 
but I wish in my own poor way to praise the Lord for his 
goodness, and to show forth his wonderful works to the 
children of men. But had David been also surrounded 
with a troop of young scholars in such a situation, he would 
once more have said, " Out of the mouths of babes and 
sucklings hast thou ordained strength." 

I love to retrace these scenes — they are past, but the 
recollection is sweet. 



4 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

r love to retrace them — for they bring to my mind many 
former mercies, which ought not, for the Lord's sake, to be 
forgotten. 

I love to retrace them — for they reassure me that, in 
the course of that private ministerial occupation, God was 
pleased to give me a valuable fruit of my labors. 

Little Jane used constantly to appear on these weekly 
seasons of instruction. I made no very particular observa- 
tions concerning her, during the first twelve months. She 
was not then remarkable for any peculiar attainment. Her 
countenance was not engaging, her eye discovered no re- 
markable liveliness. She read tolerably well, took pains, 
and improved. 

Mildness and quietness marked her general demeanor. 
She was very constant in her attendance on public worship, 
as well as on my Saturday instructions. But, generally 
speaking, she was little noticed except for her regular con- 
duct. Had I then been asked, of which of my young 
scholars I had formed the most favorable opinion, poor Jane 
might probably have been omitted. 

How little do we oftentimes know what God is doing in 
other people's hearts ! What poor judges we frequently 
prove, till he opens our eyes ! " His thoughts are not our 
thoughts, neither are our ways his ways." 

Once, indeed, during the latter part of that year, I was 
struck with her ready attention to my wishes. I had, agree- 
ably to the plan above mentioned, sent her into the church- 
yard to commit to memory an epitaph which I admired. 
On her return she told me, that in addition to what I had 
desired, she had also learned another, which was inscribed 
on an adjoining stone ; adding, that she thought it a very 
pretty one. 

I thought so too, and perhaps my reader will be of the 
same opinion. Little Jane, though dead, yet shall speak. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. g 

While I transcribe the lines I can powerfully imagine that 
I hear her voice repeating them : 

EPITAPH ON MRS. A. B. 

Forgive, blest shade, tlie tributary tear. 

That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 

Forgive the wish that would liave kept thee here. 
And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss 

No more confined to grov'ling scenes of night. 
No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, 

Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight. 
And trace thy journey to the realms of day. 

The above was her appointed task ; and the other, which 
she voluntarily learned and spoke of with pleasure, is this : 

EPITAPH ON THE STONE ADJOINING. 

It must be so— our fatlier Adam's fall 
And disobedience, brought this lot on all. 
All die in him — but hopeless should we be. 
Blest Revelation, we^-e it not for thee. 

Hail, glorious Gospel ! heavenly light, whereby 
We live with comfort, and with comfort die ; 
And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, 
A life of endless happiness to come. 

I afterwards discovered that the sentiment expressed in 
the latter epitaph had much affected her. But at the period 
of this little incident I knew nothing of her mind. I had 
comparatively overlooked her. I have often been sorry 
for it since. Conscience seemed to rebuke me, when I 
afterwards discovered what the Lord had been doing for 
her soul. I seemed to have neglected her; yet it was not 
done designedly. She was unknown to us all ; except that, 
as I since found out, her regularity and abstinence from the 

VOL. III. 8 



6 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



sins and follies of her young equals in age, brought upon 
her many taunts and jeers from others, which she bore 
very meekly. But at that time I knew it not. 

1 was young myself in the ministry, and younger in 
Christian experience. My parochial plans had not as yet 
assumed such a principle of practical order and inquiry, as 
to make me acquainted with the character and conduct of 
each family and individual in my flock. 

My young scholar soon became my teacher ! I first saw 
what true religion could accomplish, in witnessing her 
experience of it. The Lord once " called a little child 
unto him, and set him in the midst of his disciples," as an 
emblem and an illustration of his doctrine. But the Lord 
did more in the case of little Jane. He not only called 
her, as a child, to show by a similitude what conversion 
means ; but he also called her by his grace to be a vessel 
of mercy and a living witness of that almighty power and 
love by which her own heart was turned to God. 

It was about fifteen months from the first period of her 
attendance on my Saturday-school, when I missed her from 
her customary place. Two or three weeks had gone by, 
without my making any particular inquiry respecting her. 
I was at length informed that she was not well. But appre- 
hending no peculiar cause for alarm, nearly two months 
passed away without any farther mention of her name 
being made. 

At length a poor old woman of the village, of whose 
religious disposition I had formed a good opinion, came and 

said to me, " Sir, have you not missed Jane S at 

your house on Saturday afternoons ?" 

" Yes," I replied ; " I believe she is not well." 

" Nor ever will be, I fear," said the woman. 

"What, do you apprehend any danger in the case ?" 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 7 

" Sir, she is very poorly indeed, and I think is in a 
decline. She wants to see you, sir ; but is afraid you 
would not come to see such a poor young child as she is." 

" Not go where poverty and sickness may call me ! 
How can she imagine so ? At whose house does she 
live ?" 

" Sir, it is a poor place, and she is ashamed to ask you 
to come there. Her neighbors are noisy, wicked people. 
They all make game at poor Jane, because she reads her 
Bible so much." 

" Do not tell me about poor places and wicked people ! 
that is the very situation where a minister of the Gospel 
is called to do the most good. I shall go to see her • you 
n:)ay let her know my intention." 

"I will, sir; I go in most days to speak to her, and 
it does one's heart good to hear her talk." 

'- Indeed !" said I ; " what does she talk about ?" 

" Talk about, poor child ! why, nothing but good things, 
such as the Bible, and Jesus Christ, and life and death, 
and her soul, and heaven and hell, and your discourses, 
and the books you used to teach her, sir. Many scoff at 
her, and say they suppose Jane counts herself better than 
other folks. But she does not mind all that. She will 
read her books, and then talk so pretty to her mother, and 
beg that she would think about her soul." 

" The Lord forgive me," thought I, " for not being more 
attentive to this poor child's case." I seemed to feel the 
importance of early instruction more than ever I had done 
before, and felt a rising hope that this girl might prove 
a kind of first fruits of my labors. 

I now recollected her quiet, orderly, diligent attendance 
on our little v/eekly meetings ; and her marked approbation 
of the epitaph, as related above, rushed into my thoughts. 
" I really hope," said I, " this dear child will prove a true 



8 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

child of God. And if so, what a mercy to her, and what a 
mercy for me.'"' 

The next morning I went to see the child. Her dwell- 
ing was of the humblest kind. Jane was in bed up stairs. 
I found no one in the house with her, except the woman 
who had brought me the message on the evening before. 
The instant I looked on the girl I perceived a very marked 
change in her countenance ; it had acquired the consump- 
tive hue, both white and red. A delicacy unknown to it 
before quite surprised me, owing to the alteration it pro- 
duced in her look. She received me first with a very 
sweet smile, and then instantly burst into a flood of tears, 
just sobbing out, " I am so glad to see you, sir." 

" I am very much concerned at your being so ill, my 
child, and grieved that I was not sooner aware of your 
state. But I hope the Lord designs it for your good." 
Her eye, not her tongue, powerfully expressed, " I hope 
and think he does." 

'• V/ell, my poor child, since you can no longer come to 
see me, I will come and see you, and we will talk over the 
subjects which I have been used to explain to you." 

'• Indeed, sir, I shall be so glad." 

" That I believe she will," said the woman ; " for she 
loves to talk of nothing so much as what she has heard 
you say in your sermons, and in the books you have given 
her." 

" Are you really desirous, my dear child, to be a true 
Christian ?" 

" O ! yes, yes, sir, I am sure I desire that above all 
things." 

I was astonished and delighted at the eaniestness and 
simplicity with which she spoke these words. 

'• Sir," added she, " I have been thinking, as I lay 
on my bed for many weeks past, how good you are to in- 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. g 

struct us poor children : what must become of us without 
it?" 

" I am truly glad to perceive that my instructions have 
not been lost upon you, and pray God that this your present 
sickness may be an instrument of blessing, in his hands, to 
prove, humble, and sanctify you. My dear child, you have 
a soul, an immortal soul, to think of; you remember what 
I have often said to you about the value of a soul : What 
would it profit a man, to gain the whole world and lose his 
own soul ?" 

" Yes, sir, I remember well you told us that when our 
bodies are put into the grave, our souls will then go either 
to the good or the bad place." 

" And to which of these places do you think that, as a 
sinner in the sight of God, you deserve to go ?'* 

" To the bad one, sir." 

" What, to everlasting destruction ?" 

"Yes, sir." " 

"Why so?" 

" Because I am a great sinner." 

" And must all great sinners go to hell ?" 

" They all deserve it ; and I am sure I do." 

" But is there no way of escape ? Is there no way for 
a great sinner to be saved?" 

" Yes, sir; Christ is the Saviour." 

" And whom does he save ?" 

" All believers." 

" And do you believe in Christ yourself?" 

" I do not know, sir ; I wish I did ; but I feel that 1 
love him." 

" What do you love him for ?" 

" Because he is good to poor children's souls like mine," 

" What has he done for you ?" 

" He died for me, sir, and what could he do more ?" 

VOL. IIL 8* 



IQ THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

" And what do you hope to gain by his death ?" 

" A good place when I die, if I believe in him, and love 
him." 

" Have you felt any uneasiness on account of your 
soul?" 

" O ! yes, sir, a great deal. When you used to talk to 
us children on Saturdays, I often felt as if I could hardly 
bear it, and wondered that others could seem so careless. 
I thought I was not fit to die. I thought of all the bad 
things I had ever done and said, and believed God must be 
very angry with me ; for you often told us, that God would 
not be mocked ;' and that Christ said, if we were not con- 
verted we could not go to heaven. Sometimes I thought 
I was so young it did not signify : and then again it seemed 
to me a great sin to think so ; for I knew I was old enough 
to see what was right and what was wrong; and so God 
had a just right to be angry when I did wrong. Besides, I 
could see that my heart was not right ; and how could such 
a heart be fit for heaven ? Indeed, sir, I used to feel very 
uneasy."' 

" My dear Jane, I wish I had known all this before. 
Why did you never tell me about it ?" 

" Sir, I durst not. Indeed, I could not well say what 
was the matter with me; and I thought you would look 
upon me as very bold, if I had spoken about myself to such 
a gentleman as you ; yet I often wished that you knew what 
1 felt and feared. Sometimes, as we went away from your 
house, I could not help crying ; and then the other children 
laughed and jeered at me, and said I was going to be very 
good they supposed, or at least to make people think so. 
Sometimes, sir, I fancied you did not think so well of me as 
of the rest, and that hurt me; yet I knew I deserved no 
particular favor, because I was the chief of sinners." 

" My dear, what made St. Paul say he was the chief of 



, THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 2| 

sinners ? In what verse of the Bible do you find this ex- 
pression, ' the chief of sinners V Can you repeat it ?" 

" ' This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners;' 
is not that right, sir ?" 

" Yes, my child, it is right ; and I hope that the same 
conviction which St. Paul had at that moment, has made 
you sensible of the same truth. Christ came into the 
world to save sinners ; my dear child, remember, now and 
for evermore, that Christ came into the world to save the 
chief of sinners."' 

" Sir, I am so glad he did. It makes me hope that he 
will save me, though I am a poor sinful girl. Sir, I am 
very ill, and I do not think I shall ever get well again. I 
want to go to Christ, if I die." 

" Go to Christ while you live, my dear child, and he will 
not cast you away when you die. He that said, ' Suffer 
little children to come unto me,' waits to be gracious to 
them, and forbids them not. What made you first think so 
seriously about the state of your soul ?" 

" Your talking about the graves in the churchyard, and 
telling us how many young children were buried there. I 
remember you said one da)^, near twelve months ago, ' Chil- 
dren, where will you be a hundred years hence ? Children, 
where do you think you shall go when you die ? Children, 
if you were to die to-night, are you sure you should go to 
Christ and be happy V Sir, I shall never Jorget your say- 
ing 'children' three times together in that solemn way." 

" Did you never before that day feel any desire about 
your soul ?" 

" Yes, sir, I think I first had that desire almost as soon 
as you began to teach us on Saturday afternoons ; but on 
that day I felt as I never did before. I shall never forget it. 
All the way as I went home, and all that night, those words 



12 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



were in my thoughts : ' Children, where do you think you 
shall go when you die ?' I thought I must leave off all my 
bad ways, or where should I go when I died ?" 

"And what effect did these thoughts produce in your 
mind?" 

" Sir, I tried to live better, and I did leave off many bad 
ways ; but the more I strove, the more difficult I found it, 
my heart seemed so hard ; and then I could not tell any one 
my case.*' 

" Could not you tell it to the Lord, who hears and an- 
swers prayer?" 

" My prayers (here she blushed and sighed) are very 
poor at the best, and at that time I scarcely knew how to 
pray at all as I ought. But I did sometimes ask the Lord 
for a better heart." 

There was a character in all this conversation which 
marked a truly sincere and enlightened state of mind. She 
spoke with all the simplicity of a child, and yet the serious- 
ness of a Christian. I could scarcely persuade myself that 
she was the same girl I had been accustomed to see in past 
time. Her countenance was filled with interesting affections, 
and always spoke much more than her tongue could utter. 
At the same time, she now possessed an ease and liberty in 
speaking, to which she had formerly been a stranger ; nev- 
ertheless she was modest, humble, and unassuming. Her 
readiness to converse was the result of spiritual anxiety, 
not childish forwardness. The marks of a divine change 
were too prominent to be easily mistaken ; and in this very 
child I, for the first time, witnessed the evident testimonies 
of such a change. How encouraging, how profitable to my 
own soul ! 

" Sir," continued little Jane, " I had one day been think- 
ing that I was neither fit to live or die ; for I could find no 
comfort in this world, and I was sure I deserved none in the 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. jg 

other. On that day you sent me to learn the verse on 

Mrs. B 's headstone, and then I read that on the one 

next to it." 

" I very well remember it, Jane ; you came back and 
repeated them both to me." 

" There were two lines in it which made me think and 
meditate a great deal." 

" Which are they ?" 

"'Hail, glorious Gospel ! heavenly light, whereby 
We live with comfort, and with comfort die.' 

I wished that glorious Gospel was mine, that I might live 
and die with comfort ; and it seemed as if I thought it would 
be so. I never felt so happy about my soul before. The 
words were often in my thoughts, 

' Live with comfort, and with comfort die.' " 

" Glorious Gospel, indeed !" I thought. 

" My dear child, what is the meaning of the word 
Gospel?" 

" Good news." 

'•' Good news for whom ?" 

" For wicked sinners, sir." 

" Who sends this good news for wicked sinners ?" 

"The Lord Almighty." 

'• And who brings this good news ?" 

" Sir, you brought it to wze." 

Here my soul melted in an instant, and I could not re- 
press the tears which the emotion excited. The last answer 
was equally unexpected and affecting. I felt a father's 
tenderness and gratitude for a first-born child. 

Jane wept likewise. After a little pause she said, 

" O, sir ! I wish you would speak to my father, and 



24 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

mother, and little brother ; for I am afraid they are going 
on very badly." 

"How so"'?"- 

" Sir, they drink, and swear, and quarrel, and do not 
like what is good ; and it does grieve me so, I camiot bear 
it. If I speak a word to them about it, they are very angry, 
and laugh and bid me be quiet, and not set up for their 
teacher. Sir, I am ashamed to tell you this of them, but I 
hope it is not wrong ; I mean it for their good." 

" I wish your prayers and endeavors for their sake may 
be blessed ; I will do also what I can." 

I then prayed with the child, and promised to visit her 
constantly. 

As I returned home, my heart was filled with thankful- 
ness for what I had seen and heard. 

Divine grace educates the reasoning faculties of the 
soul, as well as the best affections of the heart ; and hap- 
pily consecrates them both to the glory of the Redeemer. 
Neither the disadvantages of poverty, nor the inexperience 
of childhood, are barriers able to resist the mighty influences 
of the Spirit of God, when he goeth forth " where he list- 
eth." " God hath chosen the foolish things of this world to 
confound the wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things 
of the world to confound the things which arc mighty." 

Little Jane's illness was of a lingering nature. I often 
visited her. The soul of this young Christian was gradu- 
ally, but effectually preparing for heaven. I have seldom 
witnessed in any older person, under similar circumstances, 
stronger marks of earnest inquiry, continual seriousness, and 
holy affections. One morning as I was walking through 
the churchyard, in my way to visit her, I stopped to look 
at the epitaph which had made such a deep impression on 
her mind. I was struck with the reflection of the impor- 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 15 

tant consequences which might result from a more frequent 
and judicious attention to the inscriptions placed in our 
burying-grounds, as memorials of the departed. I wish that 
every gravestone might not only record the names of our 
deceased friends, but also proclaim the name of Jesus, as 
the only name given under heaven whereby men can be 
saved. Perhaps, if the ministers of religion were to inter- 
est themselves in this matter, and accustom their people to 
consult them as to the nature of the monumental inscriptions 
which they wish to introduce into churches and church- 
yards, a gradual improvement would take place in this re- 
spect. What is offensive, useless, or erroneous, would no 
longer find admittance, and a succession of valuable warn- 
ing and consolation to the living would perpetuate the 
memory of the dead. 

When I arrived at Jane's cottage, I found her in bed, 
reading Dr. Watts's Hymns for Children, in which she took 
great pleasure. 

" W^hat are you reading this morning, Jane ?" 
" Sir, I have been thinking very much about some ver- 
ses in my little book. Here they are : 

' There is an hour when I must die, 

Nor do I know how soon 't will come ; 
A thousand children, young as I, 

Are called by death to hear their doom. 

Let me improve the hours I have, 

Before the day of grace is fled ; 
There 's no repentance in the grave, 

Nor pardon offered to the dead.' 

Sir, I feel all that to be very true, and I am afraid I do 
not improve the hours I have, as I ought to do. I think 
I shall not live very long ; and when I remember my sins 
I say, 



IQ THE YOUXG COTTAGER. 

' Lord, at thy feet ashamed I lie, 
Upward I dare not look ; 
Pardon my sins before I die, 
And blot them from thy book.' 

Do you think he zcill pardon me, sir ?" 

" My dear child, I have great hopes that he has par- 
doned you ; that he has heard your prayers, and put you 
into the number of his true children already. You have 
had strong proofs of his mercy to your soul." 

" Yes, sir, I have ; and I wish to love and bless him for 
it. He is good, very good."' 

It had for some time past occurred to my mind, that a 
course of regulated conversations on the first principles of 
religion would be very desirable, from time to time, for this 
interesting child's sake ; and I thought the Church Cate- 
chism would be a proper groundwork for that purpose. 

"Jane," said I, "you can repeat the Catechism?" 

" Yes, sir, but I think that has been one of my sins in 
the sight of God." 

" What, repeating your Catechism ?" 

"Yes, sir, in such a way as I used to do it." 

" How was that ?" 

" Very carelessly indeed. I never thought about the 
meaning of the words, and that must be very wrong. Sir, 
the Catechism is full of good things ; I wish I understood 
them better." 

" Well then, my child, we will talk a little about those 
good things which, as you truly say, are contained in the 
Catechism. Did you ever consider what it is to be a mem- 
ber of Christ, a child of God, and an inheritor of the king- 
dom of heaven ?" 

" I think, sir, I have lately considered it a good deal ; 
and I want to be such, not only in name, but in deed and in 
truth. You once told me, sir, that ' as the branch is to the 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. j^ 

vine, and the stone to the buildmg, and the limb to the body 
and the head, so is a true believer to the Lord Jesus Christ.' 
But how am I to know that I belong to Christ as a true 
member, which you said one day in the church, means the 
same as a Ihiib of the body ?" 

" Do you love Christ now in a way you never used to 
do before ?" 

"Yes, I think so, indeed." 

" Why do you love him ?" 

" Because he first loved me ; he died for sinners." 

" How do you know that he first loved you V 

" Because he sent me instruction, and made me feel the 
sin of my heart, and taught me to pray for pardon, and love 
his ways ; he sent you to teach me, sir, and to show me the 
way to be saved, and now I want to be saved in that way 
that he pleases. Sometimes I feel as if I loved all that he 
has said and done so much, that I wish never to think about 
any thing else. I know I did not use to feel so ; and I 
think if he had not loved me first, my wicked heart would 
never have cared about him. I once loved any thing better 
than religion, but now it is every thing to me." 

" Do you believe, in your heart, that Christ is able and 
willing to save the chief of sinners ?" 

"I do." 

" And what are you ?" 

" A young, but a great sinner." 

" Is it not of his mercy that you know and feel yourself 
to be a sinner?" 

" Certainly ; yes, it must be so." 

" Do you earnestly desire to forsake all sin ?" 

" If I know myself, I do." 

"Do you feel a spirit within you resisting sin, and 
making you hate it ?" p 

"Yes, I hope so." 

VOL. III. 9 



IQ THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

" Who gave you that spirit ? Were you always so V 

" It must be Christ, who loved me and gave himself for 
me. I was quite different once." 

" Now then, my dear Jane, does not all this show a con- 
nection between the Lord Jesus Christ and your soul ? Does 
it not seem as if you lived, and moved, and had a spiritual 
being from him ? Just as the limb is connected with your 
body, and so with your head, and thereby gets power to live 
and move through the flowing of the blood from one to the 
other ; so are you spiritually a limb or member of Christ, 
if you believe in him. Do you understand me V 

" Yes, sir, I believe I do ; and it is very comfortable to 
my thoughts to look up to Christ as a living head, and to 
consider myself as the least and lowest of all his mem- 
bers." 

" Now tell me what your thoughts are as to being a 
child of God?" 

" I am sure, sir, I do not deserve to be called his child." 

"Can you tell me who does deserve it?" 

"No one, sir." 

" How then comes any one to be a child of God, when 
by nature we all are children of wrath ?" 

"By God's grace, sir." 

" What does grace mean ?" 

" Favor ; free favor to sinners." 

" Right ; and what does God bestow upon the children 
of wrath, when he makes them children of grace?" 

" A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness ; 
is it not, sir?" 

" Yes, this is the fruit of Christ's redeeming love ; and I 
hope you are a partaker of the blessing. The family of God 
is named after him, and he is the first-born of many breth- 
ren. What a mercy that Christ calls himself 'a brother/' 
My little girl, he is your brother ; and will not be ashamed 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. jq 

to own you, and present you to his Father at the last day, 
as one that he has purchased with his blood." 

" I wish I could love my Father and my Brother which 
are in heaven better than I do. Lord, be merciful to me 
a sinner : I think, sir, if I am a child of God, I am often a 
rebellious one. He shows kindness to me beyond others, 
and yet I make a very poor return. 

' Are these thy favors day by day, 
To me above the rest ? 
Then let me love thee more than they, 
And strive to serve thee best?'" 

" That will be the best way to approve yourself a real 
child of God. Show your love and thankfulness to such a 
Father, who hath prepared for you an inheritance among 
the saints in light, and made you an inheritor of the king- 
dom of heaven, as well as a member of Christ, and a child 
of God. Do you know what the kingdom of heaven means ?" 

Just at tliat instant her mother entered the house below, 
and began to speak to a younger child in a passionate, scold- 
ing tone of voice, accompanied by some very offensive lan- 
guage : but quickly stopped, on hearing us in conversation 
up stairs. 

" Ah, my poor mother !" said the girl, " you would not 

have stopped so short, if Mr. had not been here. Sir, 

you hear how my mother goes on ; pray say something to 
her ; she will not hear 7?ie." 

I went towards the stair-head, and called to the woman ; 
but she suddenly left the house, and for that time escaped 
reproof. 

" Sir," said little Jane, " I am so afraid, if 1 go to heaven, 
I shall never see my poor mother there. As I lie here abed, 
sir, for hours together, there is often so much wickedness, 
and noise, and quarrelling down below, that I do not know 



20 THE YOUXG COTTAGER. 

how to bear it. It comes very near, sir, when one's father 
and mother go on so. I want them all to turn to the Lord, 
and go to heaven. Tell me now, sir, something about being 
an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven."' 

"You may remember, my child, what I have told you, 
when explaining the Catechism in the church, that 'the 
kingdom of heaven ' in the Scriptures, means the church 
of Christ upon earth as well as the state of glory in heaven. 
The one is a preparation for the other. All true Christians 
are ' heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ,' and shall 
inherit the glory and happiness of his kingdom, and live with 
Christ, and be with him for ever. This is the free gift of 
God to his adopted children ; and all that believe aright in 
Christ shall experience the truth of that promise, ' It is your 
Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.' You are 
a poor girl now, but I trust, ' an entrance shall be ministered 
unto you abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' You suffer now ; but are 
you not willing to suffer for his sake, and to bear patiently 
those things to which he calls you ?" 

" O, yes, very willing ; I would not complain. It is all 
right." 

" Then, my dear, you shall reign with him. Through 
much tribulation you may perhaps enter the kingdom of 
God ; but tribulation worketh patience ; and patience, ex- 
perience ; and experience, hope. As a true member of 
Christ, shovv^ yourself to be a dutiful child of God, and 
your portion will be that of an inheritor in the kingdom of 
heaven. Faithful is He that hath promised ; commit thy 
way unto the Lord ; trust also in him, and he shall bring 
it to pass." 

" Thank you, sir ; I do so love to hear of these things. 
And I think, sir, I should not love them so much, if I had 
no part in them. Sir, there is one thing I want to ask you. 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



21 



It is a great thing, and I may be wrong — I am so young — 
and yet I hope I mean right " 

Here she liesitated and paused. 

" What is it ? do not be fearful of mentionino- it." 

o 

A tear rolled down her cheek — a slight blush colored 
her countenance. She lifted up her eyes to heaven for a 
moment, and fixing them on me, with a solemn, affecting 
look, said, 

'' May so young a poor child as I am be admitted to the 
Lord's Supper ? I have for some time wished it. but dared 
not to mention it, for fear you should think it wrong." 

" My dear Jane, I have no doubt respecting it,* and shall 
be very glad to converse with you on the subject, and hope 
that He who has given you the desire, will bless his own 
ordinance to your soul. Would you wish it now, or to- 
morrow ?" 

" To-morrow, if you please, sir — Will you come to-mor- 
row and talk to me about it ? and if you think it proper, I 
shall be thankful. I am growing faint now — I hope to be 
better when you come again." 

I was much pleased with her proposal, and rejoiced in 
the prospect of seeing so young and sincere a Christian thus 
devote herself to the Lord, and receive the memorials of a 
Saviour's love to her soul. 

Disease was making rapid inroads upon her constitution, 
and she was aware of it. But as the outward man decayed, 
she was strengthened with might by God's Spirit in the 
inner man. She was evidently ripening fast for a better 
world. 

* It will be perceived, that this interesting and excellent Tract 
is from the pen of a devout Episcopalian; and in publishing this 
incident entire, it may be proper to say, that' the Publishing Com- 
mittee would not be understood to express any opinion in relation 
to the practice of administering the Lord's Supper in private. 
VOL. III. 9* 



22 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

I remember these things with affectionate pleasure. I 
hope the recollection does me good. I wish them to do 
good to thee, likewise, my reader ; and therefore I write 
them down. 

I was so much affected with my last visit to little Jane, 
and particularly with her tender anxiety respecting the 
Lord's Supper, that it formed the chief subject of my 
thoughts for the remainder of the day. 

I rode in the afternoon to a favorite spot, where I some- 
times indulged in solitary meditation ; and where I wished 
to reflect on the interesting case of my little disciple. 

The next morning I went to Jane's cottage. On enter- 
ing the door, the woman who so frequently visited her met 
me, and said, 

"Perhaps, sir, you will not wake her just yet; for she 
has dropped asleep, as she seldom gets much rest, poor 
girl." 

I went gently up stairs. The child was in a half-sitting 
posture, leaning her head upon her right hand, with her 
Bible open before her. She had evidently fallen asleep 
while reading. Her countenance was beautifully composed 
and tranquil. A few tears had rolled down her cheek, and, 
probably unknown to her, dropped upon the pages of her 
book. 

I looked around me for a moment. The room was out- 
wardly comfortless and uninviting ; the walls out of repair ; 
the sloping roof somewhat shattered ; the floor broken and 
uneven ; no furniture but two tottering bedsteads, a three- 
legged stool, and an old oak chest — the window broken in 
many places, and mended with patches of paper. A little 
shelf against the wall, over the bedstead where Jane lay, 
served for her medicine, her food, and her books. 

"Yet Aere," I said to myself, "lies an heir of glory 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 23 

waiting for a happy dismissal. Her earthly home is poor 
indeed ; but she has a house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens. She has little to attach her to this world ; 
but what a weight of glory in the world to come ! This 
mean, despised chamber, is a palace in the eye of faith, for 
it contains one that is an inheritor of a crown.'' 

I approached without waking her, and observed that she 
had been reading the twenty-third chapter of St. Luke. The 
finger of her left hand lay upon the book, pointing to the 
words, as if she had been using it to guide her eye while 
she read. I looked at the place, and was pleased at the 
apparently casual circumstance of her finger pointing to 
these words : " Lord, remember me when thou comest into 
thy kingdom." 

" Is this casual, or designed ?" thought L " Either way 
it is remarkable." But in another moment I discovered 
that her finger was indeed an index to the thoughts of her 
heart. She half awoke from her dozing state, but not suffi- 
ciently so to perceive that any person was present, and said 
in a kind of a whisper, 

" Lord, remember me — remember me — remember — 
remember a poor child — Lord, remember me " 

She then suddenly started, and perceived me, as she be- 
came fully awake : a faint blush overspread her cheeks for 
a moment, and then disappeared. 

" Dame K , how long have I been asleep ? Sir, I 

am very sorry " 

" And I am very glad to find you thus," I replied : " you 
may say with David, ' I laid me down and slept ; I awaked ; 
for the Lord sustained me.' What were you reading ?" 

" The history of the crucifying of Jesus, sir." 

" How far had you read when you fell asleep ?" 

" To the prayer of the thief that was crucified with him ; 
and when I came to that place I stopped, and thought 



24 THE YOUNG COTTAGEK. 

what a mercy it would be, if the Lord Jesus should remem- 
ber me likewise — and so I fell asleep, and I fancied in my 
dream that I saw Christ upon the cross ; and I thought I 
said, ' Lord, remember me ' — and I am sure he did not look 
angry upon me — and then I awoke." 

All this seemed to be a sweet commentary on the text, 
and a most suitable forerunner of our intended sacramental 
service. 

" Well, my dear child, I am come, as you wished me, 
to administer the memorials of the body and blood of our 

blessed Saviour to you ; and I dare say neighbor K 

will be glad to join us." 

'•' Talk to me a little about it first, sir, if you please." 

" Well, you know this is an institution established by 
Christ himself. The Lord has ordained bread and wine in 
the holy Supper, as the outward mark which we behold 
with our eyes. It is a token of his love, grace, and blessing, 
which he promises to, and bestows on all who receive it, 
rightly believing on his name and work. He, in this man- 
ner, preserves among us a continual remembrance of his 
death, and of the benefits which we receive thereby. 

" What do you believe respecting the death of Christ, 
Jane ?" 

" That because he died, sir, we live." 

" What life do we live thereby ?" 

" The life of grace and mercy now, and the life of glory 
and happiness hereafter ; is it not, sir ?" 

" Yes, assuredly : this is the fruit of the death of Christ ; 
and thus he opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers. 
As bread and wine strengthen and refresh your poor, weak, 
fainting body, in this very sickness ; so does the blessing of 
his body and blood strengthen and refresh the souls of all 
those that repose their faith, hope, and affections on him who 
loved us and gave himself for us." 



THE YOUXG COTTAGER. 25 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she said, " O, what a 
Saviour ! — O, what a sinner ! — How kind — how good ! And 
is this for me ?" 

" Fear not, my child : He that has made you to love 
him thus, loves you too well to deny you. He will in no 
wise cast out any that come to him." 

" Sir," said the girl, " I can never think about Jesus, and 
his love to sinners, without wondering how it can be. I 
deserve nothing but his anger on account of my sins : why 
then does he love me ? My heart is evil : why then does 
he love me ? I continually forget all his goodness : why 
then does he love me ? I neither pray to him, nor thank 
him, nor do any thing, as I ought to do : why then such love 
to me ?" 

" How plain it is that all is mercy from first to last ! and 
that sweetens the blessing, my child. Are you not willing 
to give Christ all the honor of your salvation, and to take all 
the blame of your sins on your own self?" 

" Yes, indeed, sir, I am. My hymn says, 

' Blest be the Lord, that sent his Son 

To take oiir flesh and blood ; 

He for our lives (rave up his own, 

To make our peace Avith God. 

He honored all his Father's laws, 

Which we have disobeyed ; 
He bore our sins upon the cross, 

And our full ransom paid.' " 

"I am glad you remember your hymns so well, Jane." 
" Sir, you don't know what pleasure they give me. I 

am very glad you gave me that little book of hymns for 

children." 

A severe fit of coughing interrupted her speech for a 

while. The woman held her head. It was distressing 



26 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

to observe her struggle for breath, and almost, as it were, 
for life. 

"Poor dear!" said the woman, "I wish I could help 
thee, and ease _thy pains ; but they will not last for ever." 

" God helps me," said the girl, recovering her breath, 
" God helps me ; he will carry me through. Sir, you 
look frightened — I am not afraid — this is nothing — I am 
better now. Thank you, dame, thank you. I am very 
troublesome ; but the Lord will bless you for this and all 
your kindness to me: yes, sir, and yours too. Now talk 
to me again about the Lord's Supper." 

"What is required, Jane, of them who come to the 
Lord's Supper ? There are five things named in the Cate- 
chism — do you remember what is the first ?" 

She paused ; and then said with a solemn and intelli- 
gent look, " To examine themselves whether they repent 
truly of their former sins." 

" I hope and think that you know what this means, 
Jane : the Lord has given you the spirit of repentance." 

" No one knows, sir, what the thoughts of past sins have 
been to me. Yes, the Lord knows, and that is enough ; 
and I hope he forgives me for Christ's sake. His blood 
cleanseth from all sin. Sir, I sometimes think of my sins 
till I tremble, and it makes me cry to think that I have 
offended such a God ; and then he comforts me again with 
sweet thoughts about Christ." 

" It is well, my child ; be it so. The next thing men- 
tioned in that answer of your Catechism, what is it ?" 

" Steadfastly purposing to lead a new life." 

" And what do you think of that ?" 

" My life, sir, will be a short one ; and I wish it had 
been a better one. But from my heart I desire that it may 
be a new one for the time to come. I want to forsake all 
my evil ways and thoughts, and evil words, and evil com- 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 27 

panions ; and to do what God bids me and what you tell 
me is right, sir, and what I read of in my Bible. But I 
am afraid I do not, my heart is so full of sin. However, 
sir, I pray to God to help me. My days will be few; but I 
wish they may be spent to the glory of God." 

" The blessing of the Lord be upon you, Jane ; so that, 
whether you live, you may live to the Lord ; or whether 
you die, you may die unto the Lord ; and that, living or dy- 
ing, you may be the Lord's. What is the next thing men- 
tioned ?" 

" To have a lively faith in God's mercy through Christ, 
sir." 

" Do you believe that God is merciful to you in the par- 
don of your sins ?" 

" I do, sir," said the child, earnestly. 

" And if he pardons you, is it for your own sake, 
Jane ?" 

" No, sir, no : it is for Christ's sake, for my Saviour 
Jesus Christ's sake, and that only — Christ is all." 

" Can you trust him ?" 

" Sir, I must not mistrust him ; nor would I if I might." 

" Right, child ; he is worthy of all your trust." 

" And then, sir, T am to have a thankful remembrance 
of his death. I can never think of his dying, but I think 
also what a poor unworthy creature I am ; and yet he is so 
good to me. I wish I could thank him. Sir, I have been 
reading about his death. How could the people do as they 
did to him ? But it was all for our salvation. And then the 
thief on the cross — that is beautiful. I hope he will remem- 
ber me too, and that I shall always remember him and his 
death most thankfully." 

" And lastly, Jane, are you in charity with all men ? 
Do you forgive all that have offended you ? Do you bear 
ill-will in your heart to any body ?" 



28 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

" Dear sir, no ! how can I ? If God is so good to me, 
if he forgives me, how can I help forgiving others ? There 
is not a person in all the world, I think, sir, to whom I do 
not wish well for Christ's sake, and that from the bottom of 
my heart." 

" How do you feel in regard to those bold, wanton, ill- 
tempered girls at the next door, who jeer and mock you so 
about your religion ?" 

" Sir, the worst thing I wish them is, that God may give 
them grace to repent ; that he may change their hearts, and 
pardon all their wicked ways and words. May he forgive 
them, as I do with all my soul !" 

She ceased — I wished to ask no more. My heart was 
full. "Can this be the religion of a child?" thought I ; 
" O, that we were all children like her !" 

I then said, " My dear friends, I will now, with God's 
blessing, partake with you in the holy communion of our 
Lord's body and blood." 

The time was sweet and solemn. I went through the 
sacramental service. 

The countenance and manner of the child evinced pow- 
erful feelings. Tears mingled with smiles ; resignation 
brightened by hope ; humility animated by faith ; childlike 
modesty adorned with the understanding of a riper age ; grati- 
tude, peace, devotion, patience — all these were visible. 

When I had concluded the service, I said, " Now, my 
dear Jane, you are indeed a sister in the church of Christ. 
May his Spirit and blessing rest upon you — strengthen and 
refresh you !" 

" My mercies are great, very great, sir, greater than I 
can express — I thank you for this favor — I thought I was 
too young — it seemed too much for me to think of; but I 
am now sure the Lord is good to me, and I hope I have 
done right." 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 29 

" Yes, Jane ; and I trust you are sealed by the Holy 
Ghost to the day of redemption." 

" Sir, I shall never forget this day." 

"Neither, I think, shall I." 

" Nor I," said the good old woman ; " sure the Lord 
has been here, in the midst of us three to-day, while we have 
been gathered together in his name." 

" Sir," said the child, " I wish you could speak to my 
mother when you come again. I am so grieved about her 
soul; and I am afraid she cares nothing at all about it 
herself." 

" I hope I shall have an opportunity the next time I 
come. Farewell, my child." 

" Good-by, sir, and I thank you for all your kindness to 
me." 

" Surely," I thought within myself as I left the cottage, 
" this young bud of grace will bloom beauteously in para- 
dise. The Lord transplant it thither in his own good time! 
Yet, if it be his will, may she live a little longer, that I may 
farther profit by her conversation and example." 

Jane was hastening fast to her dissolution. She still, 
however, preserved sufficient strength to converse with 
much satisfaction to herself and those who visited her. 
Such as could truly estimate the value of her spiritual state 
of mind were but few ; yet the most careless could not help 
being struck with her affectionate seriousness, her know- 
ledge of the Scriptures, and her happy application of them to 
her own case. " The holy spark divine," which regenerat- 
ing grace had implanted in her heart, brightened as she 
drew near the close of life, and kindled into a flame which 
warmed and animated the beholder. To some, I am per- 
suaded, her example and conversation were made a blessing. 
Memory reflects with gratitude, while I write, on the profit 

VOL. III. 10 



30 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

and consolation which I individually derived from her so- 
ciety. Nor I alone. The last day will, if I err not, disclose 
farther fruits, resulting from the love of God to this little 
child ; and, through her, to others that saw her. And may 
not hope indulge the prospect, that this simple memorial of 
her history shall be as an arrow drawn from the quiver of 
the Almighty to reach the heart of the young and thought- 
less ? Direct its course, O my God ! May the eye that 
reads, and the ear that hears, the record of little Jane, 
through the power of the Spirit of the Most High, each 
become a witness for the truth as it is in Jesus ! 

I remembered the tender solicitude of this dear child for 
her mother. I wxll knew what a contrast the dispositions 
and conduct of her parents exhibited, when compared with 
her own. 

I resolved to avail myself of the first opportunity I could 
seize, to speak to the mother in the child's presence. One 
morning soon after the interview above related, I chose 
another path for my visit. The distance was not quite half 
a mile from my house. The path was retired. I hereby 
avoided the noise and interruption which even a village 
street will sometimes present to disturb the calmness of in- 
teresting meditation. 

As I passed through the churchyard and cast my eye 
on the memorable epitaph, " Soon," I thought within me, 
" will my poor little Jane mingle her mouldering remains 
with this dust, and sleep witli her fathers ! Soon will the 
youthful tongue, which now lisps Hosannas to the Son of 
David, and delights my heart with the evidences of early 
piety and grace, be silent in the earth ! Soon shall I be 
called to commit her body to the ground, ' earth to earth, 
ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' But O, what a glorious 
change ! Her spirit shall have then returned to God, who 
gave it. Her soul will be joining the hallelujahs of para- 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. gj^ 

dise, while we sing her requiem at the grave. And her 
very dust shall here wait, ' in sure and certain hope of a 
joyful resurrection from the dead.' " 

I went through the fields without meeting a single indi- 
vidual. I enjoyed the retirement of my solitary walk; 
various surrounding objects contributed to excite useful 
meditation, connected with the great subjects of time and 
eternity. I was now arrived at the stile nearly adjoining 
her dwelling. The upper window was open, and I soon 
distinguished the sound of voices. I was glad to hear that 
of the mother. I entered the house door unperceived by 
those above stairs, and sat down below, not wishing as yet 
to interrupt a conversation which quickly caught my ear. 

" Mother ! mother ! I have not long to live. My time 
will be very short. But I must, indeed I must, say some- 
thing, for your sake, before I die. O mother ! you have a 
soul — ^you have a soul, and what will become of it when 
you die ? O my mother, I am so uneasy about your soul." 

" O dear, I shall lose my child — she will die — and what 
shall I do when you are gone, my Jane ?" — she sobbed 
aloud. 

" Mother, think about your soul. Have not you neg- 
lected that?" 

" Yes, I have been a wicked sinner, and not loved that 
which was good. What can I do ?" 

" Mother, you must pray to God to pardon you, for 
Christ's sake. You must pray." 

" Jane, my child, I cannot pray ; I never did pray in all 
my life. I am too wicked to pray." 

" Mother, 1 have been wanting to speak to you a long 
time ; but I was afraid to do it. You did not like me to say 
any thing about yourself, and I did not know how to begin. 
But indeed, mother, I must speak now, or it may be too late. 
I wish Mr. was here, for he could talk to you better 



32 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

than I can. But perhaps you will think of what I say, poor 
as it is, when 1 am dead. I am but a young child, and not 
fit to speak about such things to any body. But, mother, 
you belong to me, and I cannot bear to think of your perish- 
ing for ever. My Lord and Saviour has shown me my 
own sins and corruptions ; he loved me, and gave himself 
for me ; he died, and he rose again — I want to praise him 
for it for ever and ever. I hope I shall see him in heaven ; 
but I want to see you there too, mother. Do, pray do, both 
father and you, leave off swearing and all other bad ways ; 
go to church and hear our minister speak about Jesus 
Christ, and what he has done for wicked simiers. He 
wishes well to souls. He taught me the way, and he will 
teach you, mother. Do not be angry with me, mother ; I 
only speak for your good. I was once as careless as you 
are about the things of God. But I have seen my error. I 
was in the broad road leading to destruction, like many 
other children in the parish, and the Lord saw me, and had 
mercy upon me.'' 

"Yes, my child, you was always a good girl, and mind- 
ed your book." 

" No, mother, no ; not always. I cared nothing about 
goodness, nor my Bible, till the minister came and sent for 
us, as you know, on Saturday afternoons. Don't you i*e- 
member, mother, that at first you did not like me to go, and 
said you would have no such godly, pious doings about your 
house ; and that I had better play about the streets and 
fields, than to be laughed at and made game of for pretend- 
ing to be so good. Ah, mother ! you did not know what I 
went for, and what God designed for me and my poor sinful 
soul. But, thank God, I did go, and there learned the way 
of salvation. Mother, I wish you had learned it too." 

As I listened to this affecting conversation, it appeared 
to me, from the tone and manner of the mother's voice, that 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 33 

she was more under the influence of temporary grief, on 
account of her child's extreme illness, than sincere sorrow 
from any real sense of her sins. I however hoped the best, 
and rejoiced to hear such weighty and important exhorta- 
tions dropping from her daughter's lips. I felt that present 
circumstances rendered it far more valuable than my own 
could have been. 

I have often, since that time, seen the wicked and care- 
less much affected while sitting by the dying bed of a near 
relative. I have witnessed their temporary acknowledg- 
ments of sin, and heard their professions of amendment. 
But, after a short season, all has passed away like the morn- 
ing dew. The friend has been buried out of sight. The 
world and its cares, the flesh and its sins, have returned 
with new temptations, and the eloquence of iniquity has 
prevailed over the voice of truth. 

On the other hand, how frequently have the death-beds 
of true believers been blessed to the eye-witnesses of the 
triumphs of grace over sin, death, and hell ! Often has the 
careless bystander received the first saving impression of 
divine truth, while the dying Christian has experienced 
and testified the supports of love and mercy in the trying 
hour. At such seasons, faith wields a bright and burning 
torch, which occasionally softens the hardest, and warms 
the coldest heart. The expressions of that heavenly con- 
solation and devout solicitude, which the Holy Spirit vouch- 
safes to some, thus become the happy means of grace and 
blessing for the conversion and edification of others. 

At this moment the house door opened, and a younger 

child, a brother of Jane's, came in. The mother asked from 

above, who it was : the boy replied ; and, without farther 

inquiry, she remained in the chamber. I beckoned to the 

lad to sit down quietly ; and thus it still remained unknown 

that I was below. 

VOL. III. 10=^ 



34 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 



" Mother," continued Jane, " that is my brother, and will 
soon be your only remaining child. Do, pray, encourage 

him to follow good ways; send him to Mr. , and he 

will be kind to him,' as he has been to me. He is a wild 
boy, but I hope he will be brought to think about his soul in 
time. Those naughty, wicked boys teach him to swear and 
fight, and run after all manner of evil. Lord help him to 
flee from the wrath to come !" 

I made a sign to the boy to listen to what his sister said 
concerning him. He seemed to hear with attention, and a 
tear dropped down his cheek. 

" Ay, Jane, it is hoped he will, and that we all shall 
likewise." 

" Mother, then you must flee to Christ. Nothing you 
can do will save you without that. You must repent and 
turn from sin — without the grace of God you will never do 
it ; but seek, and you shall find it. Do, for your own sake, 
and for my sake, and my little brother's sake." 

The woman wept and sobbed, without replying. I now 
thought it time to appear, went to the bottom of the stairs, 
and said, " May a friend come up ?" 

" Mercy on me !" said the mother, '• there is Mr. ." 

" Come in, sir," said Jane, " I am very glad you are 
come 71010. Mother, set a chair." 

The woman looked rather confused, Jane smiled as I 
entered, and welcomed me, as usual. 

" I hope I shall be forgiven both by mother and daugh- 
ter, for liaving remained so long below stairs, during the 
conversation which has just taken place. I came in the 
hope of finding you together, as I have had a wish for some 
time past to speak to you, Sarah, on the same subjects 
about which I am happy to say your daughter is so anxious. 
You have long neglected these things, and I wished to warn 
you of the danger of your state ; but Jane has said all 1 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 35 

could desire, and I now solemnly ask you whether you are 
not much affected by your poor child's faithful conversa- 
tion ? You ought to have been her teacher, and instructor 
in the ways of righteousness ; whereas now she is become 
yours. Happy, however, will it be for you, if you are wise 
and consider your latter end, and the things which belong to 
your peace, before they are hidden from your eyes ! Look 
at your dying child, and think of your other and only re- 
maining one, and say whether this sight does not call aloud 
upon you to hear and fear.'' 

Jane's eyes w^ere filled with tears while I spoke. The 
woman hung her head down, but betrayed some emotions 
of dislike at the plain dealing used towards her. 

" My child, Jane," said I, " how are you to-day ?" 

" Sir, I have been talking a good deal, and feel rather 
faint and weary, but my mind has been veiy easy and happy 
since I last saw you. I am quite willing to die, when the 
Lord sees fit. 1 have no wish to live, except it be to see my 
friends in a better way before I depart. Sir, I used to be 
afraid to speak to them ; but I feel to-day as if I could hold 
my peace no longer, and I must tell them what the Lord has 
done for my soul, and what I feel for theirs." 

There was a firmness, I may say dignity, with w^hich 
this was uttered, that surprised me. The character of the 
child seemed to be lost in that of the Christian : her natural 
timidity yielded to a holy assurance of manner, resulting 
from her own inward consolations, mingled with spiritual 
desire for her mother's welfare. This produced a flush 
upon her otherwise pallid countenance, which in no small 
degree added to her interesting appearance. The Bible 
lay open before her as she sat up in the bed. With her 
right hand she inclosed her mother's. 

" Mother, this book you cannot read ; you should there- 
fore go constantly to church, that you may hear it explained. 



36 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

It is God's book, and tells us the way to heaven ; I hope you 
will learn and mind it ; with God's blessing it may save 
your soul. Do think of that, mother, pray do. I am soon 
going to die. Give this Bible to my brother; and will you 
be so kind, sir, as to instruct him ? Mother, remember what 
I say, and this gentleman is witness: there is no salvation 
for sinners like you and me, but in the blood of Christ ; he 
is able to save to the uttermost ; he will save all that come 
to him ; he waits to be gracious ; cast yourself upon his 
mercy. I wish — I wish — I — I " 

She was quite overcome, and sunk away in a kind of 
fainting fit. 

Her mother observed that she would now probably re- 
main insensible for some time, before she recovered. 

I improved this interval in a serious address to the wo- 
man, and then prepared to take my departure, perceiving 
that Jane was too much exhausted for farther conversation 
at that time. 

As I was leaving the room the child said faintly, " Come 
again soon, sir ; my time is very short." 

I returned home by the same retired road which I had 
before chosen. I silently meditated on the eminent proofs 
of piety and faith which were just afforded me in the scene 
I had witnessed. Surely, I thought, this is an extraordi- 
nary child ! What cannot grace accomplish ? Is it possible 
to doubt, after this, who is alone the Author and Finisher of 
salvation ? or from whom cometh every good and perfect 
gift ? How rich and free is the mercy of Jehovah ! Hath 
not he " chosen the weak things of the world to confound 
the things which are mighty ?" Let no flesh glory in his 
presence ; but he that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord. 

At a very early hour cm the morning of the following 
day, 1 was awoke by the arrival of a messenger, bringing 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. giy 

an earnest request that I would immediately go to the 
child, as her end appeared to be just approaching. It was 
not yet day when I left my house to obey the summons. 
The morning star shone conspicuously clear. The moon 
cast a mild light over the prospect, but gradually diminished 
in brightness, as the eastern sky became enlightened. The 
birds were beginning their song, and seemed ready to wel- 
come the sun's approach. My mind, as I proceeded, was 
deeply exercised by thoughts conceining the affecting events 
which I expected soon to witness. The rays of the morn- 
ing star were not so beautiful in my sight as the spiritual 
lustre of this young Christian's character. Her night was 
far spent ; the morning of a better day was at hand. When 
I arrived at the house, I found no one below ; I paused a 
few minutes, and heard the girl's voice very faintly saying, 
" Do you think he will come ? I should be so glad — so glad 
to see him before I die." 

I ascended the stairs — her father, mother, and brother, 
together with the elderly woman before spoken of, were in 
the chamber. Jane's countenance bore the marks of speedy 
dissolution. Yet although death was manifest in the lan- 
guid features, there was something more than ever interest- 
ing in the whole of her external aspect. The moment she 
saw me, a renewed vigor beamed in her eyes — grateful 
affection sparkled in the dying face. 

Although she had spoken just before I entered, yet for 
some time afterwards she was silent, but never took her 
eyes off me. There was animation in her look — there was 
more — something like a foretaste of heaven seemed to be 
felt, and gave an inexpressible character of spiritual beauty 
even in death. 

At length she said, " This is very kind, sir — I am going 
fast — I was afraid I should never see you again in this 
world." 



38 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

I said, " My child, are you resigned to die ?" 

"Quite." 

" Where is your hope ?" 

She lifted up her finger, pointing to heaven, and then 
directed the same downward to her own heart, saying suc- 
cessively as she did so, " Christ there, and Christ here.^' 

These words, accompanied by the action, spoke her 
meaning more solemnly than can easily be conceived. 

A momentary spasm took place. Looking towards her 
weeping mother, she said, "I am very cold, but it is no 
matter, it will soon be over." 

She closed her eyes for about a minute, and on opening 
them again she said, " I wish, sir, v>^hen I am gone you 
would tell the other children of the parish how good the Lord 
has been to me, a poor sinner — tell them, that they who seek 
him early will find him — tell them, that the ways of sin and 
ignorance are the way to ruin and hell — and pray tell them, 
sir, from me, that Christ is indeed the way, the truth, and 
the life — he will in no wise cast out any that come. Tell 
them tliat I, a poor girl " 

She was quite exhausted, and sunk for a while into a 
torpid state, from which, however, she recovered gradually, 
uttering these expressions : " Where am I ? — I thought I 
was going — Lord, save me.'^ 

" My dear child, you will soon be for ever in his arms, 
who is now guiding you by his rod and staff through the 
valley of the shadow of death." 

" I believe so, indeed I do," said she ; " I long to be 
with him ! — O, how good, how great, how merciful ! — Jesus, 
save me, help me through this last trial." 

She then gave one hand to her father, the other to her 
mother, and said, " God bless you, God bless you — seek the 
Lord — think of me when I am gone — it may be for your 
good — remember your souls — O, for Christ's sake, remem- 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 39 

ber your souls — then all may be well — you cannot know 
what I have felt for both of you — Lord, pardon and save my 
dear father and mother !" 

She then took hold of her brother's hand, saying, 
" Thomas, I beg of you to leave off your bad ways — read the 
Bible — I give you mine — I have found it a precious book. 
Do you not remember our little brother, who died some 
years since ? — he was praying to the last moment of his 
life. Learn to pray while you are in health, and you will 
find the comfort and power of it when you come to die ; 
but first of all, pray for a new heart — without it you never 
will see God in heaven — your present way leads to misery 
and ruin — may the Lord turn your heart to love and follow 
him!" 

To the other woman she said, " I thank you. Dame 

K , for all your kindness since I have been ill — you 

have been a Christian friend to me, and I hope the Lord 
will remember you for it, according to his rich mercy. You 
and I have many a time talked together about death ; and 
though I am the youngest, he calls me first to pass through 
it; but blessed be his name, I am not terrified. I once 
thought I never could die without fear ; but indeed I feel 
quite happy now it is come ; and so will you, if you trust 
him — he is the God both of the old and the young." 

" Ah, my child !" said the woman, " I wish I was as fit 
to die as you are ; but I fear that will never be — my sins 
have been many, very many." 

" Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin," said the child. 

At this moment, instead of growing weaker, through the 
fatigue of so much speaking, she seemed to gather fresh 
strength. She turned to me with a look of surprising ear- 
nestness and animation, saying, 

" You, sir, have been my best friend on earth — you have 
taught me the way to heaven, and I love and thank you for 



40 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

it — you have borne with my weakness and my ignorance — 
you have spoken to me of the love of Christ, and he has 
made me feel it in my heart — I shall see him face to face — 
he will never leave me nor forsake me — he is the same, and 
changes not. Dear sir, God bless you." 

The child suddenly rose up, and with an unexpected ex- 
ertion, threw her livid, wasted arms around me, as I sat on 
the bedside, laid her head on my shoulder, and said distinct- 
ly, " God bless and reward you — give thanks for me to him 
— my soul is saved — Christ is every thing to me. Sir, we 
shall meet in heaven, shall we not ? — O yes, yes^then all 
will be peace — peace — peace " 

She sunk back on the bed, and spoke no more — fetched 
a deep sigh — smiled, and died. 

At this affecting moment the first rays of the morning 
sun darted into the room, and seemed to describe the glorious 
change which her soul had now experienced. 

For some time I remained silently gazing on the breath- 
less corpse, and could hardly persuade myself that Jane 
was indeed no longer there. 

As I returned homeward, I found it difficult to repress 
the strong feelings of affection which such a scene had 
excited. Neither did I wish it. Religion, reason, and ex- 
perience rather bid us indulge, in due place and season, 
those tender emotions which keep the heart alive to its most 
valuable sensibilities. Jesus himself icept over the foreseen 
sorrows of Jerusalem. He icept also at the grave of his 
friend Lazarus. Such an example consecrates the tear of 
affection, while it teaches us, concerning them which are 
asleep, not to "sorrow, as those that have no hope." 

I soon fell into meditation on the mysterious subject of 
the flight of a soul from this world to that of departed spirits. 
" Swifter than the rays of light from the sun, has this child's 
spirit hastened, in obedience to its summons from God, to 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 41 

appear in his immediate presence. How solemn a truth is 
this ! But, washed in the blood of the Lamb that was slain, 
and happily made partaker of its purifying efficacy, she 
meets her welcome at the throne of God. Sin, death, and 
hell are vanquished, through the power of Him who hath 
made her more than conqueror. He will himself present 
her to his Father, as one of the purchased lambs of his flock 
— as one whom the Spirit of God ' has sealed unto the day 
of redemption.' 

" What a change for her ! from that poor, tattered cham- 
ber, to the regions of paradise ! from a bed of straw to the 
bosom of Abraham ! from poverty, sickness, and pain, to 
eternal riches, health, and joy ! from the condition of a 
decayed, weary pilgrim, in this valley of tears, to that of a 
happy traveller, safely arrived at home, in the rest that re- 
maineth to the people of God ! 

" I have lost a young disciple, endeared to me by a truly 
parental tie. Yet how can I complain of that as lost, which 
God has found ? Her willing and welcome voice no longer 
seeks or imparts instruction here. But it is far better em- 
ployed. The angels who rejoiced over her when her soul 
first turned to God, who watched the progress of her short 
pilgrimage, and who have now carried her triumphantly to 
the heavenly hills, have already taught her to join 

' In holy song, their own immortal strains.' 

Why then should I mourn ? The whole prospect, as it con- 
cerns her, is filled with joy and immortality : ' Death is 
swallowed up in victory.' " 

On the fourth day from thence, Jane was buried. I had 
never before committed a parishioner to the ground with 
similar affections. The attendants were not many, but I 
was glad to perceive among them some of the children who 
had been accustomed to receive my weekly private instruc- 
VOL. III. 11 



42 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

tion along with her. I wished that the scene might usefully 
impress their young hearts, and that God would bless it to 
their edification. As I stood at the head of the grave during 
the service, I connected past events, which had occurred in 
the churchyard, with the present. In this spot Jane first 
learned the value of that Gospel which saved her soul. 
Not many yards from her own burial-place was the epitaph 
which has already been described as the first means of 
affecting her mind Mith serious and solemn conviction. It 
seemed to stand, at this moment, as a peculiar witness for 
those truths which its lines proclaimed to every passing 
reader. Such an association of objects produced a power- 
ful effect on my thoughts. 

The evening was serene — nothing occurred to interrupt 
the quiet solemnity of the occasion. " Peace" was the last 
word little Jane uttered, while living ; and peace seemed to 
be inscribed on the farewell scene at the grave, w^here she 
was laid. A grateful remembrance of that peace revives in 
my own mind, as I write these memorials of it ; and O, may 
that peace which passeth all understanding be in its most per- 
fect exercise, when I shall meet her again at the last day. 

Attachment to the spot where this young Christian lay, 
induced me to plant a yew-tree close by the head of her 
grave, adjoining the eastern wall of the church. I designed 
it as an evergreen monument of one who was dear to mem- 
ory. The young plant appeared healthy for a while, and 
promised by its outward vigor long to retain its station. 
But it withered soon afterwards, and, like the child whose 
grave it pointed out to notice, early faded away and died. 
The yew-tree proved a frail and short-lived monument. 
But a more lasting one dwells in my own heart. And 
possibly this narrative may be permitted to transmit her 
memory to other generations, when the hand and heart of 
the writer shall be cold in the dust. 



i 



THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 43 

Perchance some, into whose hands these pages may fall, 
will be led to cultivate their spiritual young plants with 
increased hope of success in so arduous an endeavor. May 
the tender blossoms reward their care, and bring forth early 
and acceptable fruit ! 

Some, who have perhaps been accustomed to undervalue 
the character oi very youthful religion, may hereby see that 
the Lord of grace and glory is not limited in the exercise of 
his power by age or circumstance. It sometimes appears 
in the displays of God's love to sinners, as it does in the 
manifestation of his works in the heavens, that the least of 
the planets moves in the nearest course to the sun, and there 
enjoys the most powerful influence of his light, heat, and 
attraction. 

The story of this Young Cottager involves a clear evi- 
dence of the freeness of the operations of divine grace on 
the heart of man ; of the inseparable connection between 
true faith, and holiness of disposition ; and of the simplicity 
of character which a real love of Christ transfuses into the 
soul. 

How many of the household of faith, in every age, 

" Alike unknown to fortune and to fame," 

have journeyed and are now travelling to their " city of 
habitation," through the paths of modest obscurity, and 
almost unheeded piety ! It is one of the most interesting 
employments of the Christian minister to search out these 
lilies of the valley, whose beauty and fragrance are nearly 
concealed in their shady retreats. To rear the flower, to 
assist in unfolding its excellences, and bring forth its fruit in 
due season, is a work that delightfully recompenses the toil 
of the cultivator. 

While he is occupied in this grateful task of laboring in 
his heavenly Master's garden, some blight, some tempest 



44 THE YOUNG COTTAGER. 

may chance to take away a favorite young blossom, in a 
premature stage of its growth. 

If such a case should befall him, he will then, perhaps, 
as I have often done, when standing in pensive recollection 
at little Jane's grave, make an application of these lines, 
which are inscribed on a gravestone erected in the same 
churchyard, and say, 

" This lovely bud, so young and fair, 
Called hence by early doom, 
Just came to show how sweet a flower 
In Paradise would bloom." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 80. 

THE 



DANGER OF DELAY. 



Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation. — 2 Cor. 6 : 2. 

Various are the artifices which the great adversary of 
the souls of men employs for accomplishing their ruin. 
When he is no longer able to exclude the light of divine 
truth from the understanding, or to divert the attention from 
the things that belong to their peace, or to prevent entirely 
the general resolution of complying with the design of the 
Gospel, he next labors to persuade them to postpone the 
immediate execution of a purpose, enforced not only by the 
sacred obligations of duty, but also by a just regard to their 
present and everlasting welfare. Thus no direct opposition 
is made to the convictions of the mind. The sinner, though 
but partially awakened, would, in the circumstances now 
supposed, revolt at the idea of a decided rejection of the 
proposals of divine mercy. But no more is pleaded for than 
a temporary indulgence, a short delay perhaps, which, it is 
presumed, can be attended with no great degree of incon- 
venience or danger. Thus the conscience is lulled asleep ; 
and, to the delaying sinner, the consequences of this tempta- 
tion may in the end prove no less fatal than an immediate 
and contemptuous disregard of the Gospel of salvation. 

Few men are so hardened as to resolve that they will 
never repent and believe the Gospel. The young man, 
fondly anticipating many years to come, and supposing that 
it will be time enough hereafter to provide for the salvation 
of his soul, resolves, in the meantime, not to decline the 
pleasures that lie within his reach, nor to withhold his heart 
from any joy. Those in more advanced life have no time, 
VOL= III, 11* 



2 THE D.^XGER OF DELAY. 

amidst the multiplicity of their engagements, to attend to so 
serious a business as religion ; but they resolve that when 
they have more leisure they will begin to think of a future 
life. And even old age itself is often ingenious in discover- 
ing pretexts for putting off a little longer the work of prep- 
aration for the eternal world. 

Should Providence direct this Tract into the hands of 
one who may be under the influence of this common and 
dangerous temptation, he is earnestly requested to attend to 
the few following considerations, as in the sight of God, and 
in view of the account which he must ere long render to 
his Judge. 

Consider the i?nportance and urgency of the business to 
which your attention is noV invited. The Gospel contains 
a message from the God of heaven to every soul that hears 
it. " This is his commandment, that we believe on the 
name of his Son Jesus Christ." 1 John, 3: 23. "God 
now commandeth all men every where to repent." Acts 
17 : 30. And Jesus himself, while he abode on earth, 
preached, saying, " Repent ye, and believe the Gospel." 
Mark 1 : 15. No indulgence is granted to men either to 
decline or to postpone compliance with this divine injunction. 
The obligation which it infers, is in the highest degree im- 
portant and peremptory. 

But this command is not less gracious than it is author, 
itative. Its great object is connected at once with the safety 
and welfare of those to whom it is addressed. It proposes 
deliverance from the greatest evils, and holds out advantages 
invaluable and everlasting. In all the great concerns of 
life, delay is ever understood as indicating a mind feeble and 
unwise ; but in the present case it must appear unreasonable 
and absurd, in a degree far beyond what is to be found in 
any other example of human folly. By delay, no advan- 
tage whatever can be gained ; but, on the contrary, the 
important interests at issue may be lost for ever. 



THE DANGER OF DELAY. g 

Nor must it be forgotten that the folly of delay can be 
equalled only by its guilt. It at once opposes the authority 
of the majesty of heaven, and tramples under foot the rich- 
est provisions of divine mercy. Why, then, delay to fulfil 
an obligation so commanding, and to attend to an interest so 
incalculable ? Why persist in offending the great God, and 
in hazarding your own salvation ? 

Consider the suitableness and value of the blessings pro- 
posed to our acceptance in the Gospel. These are precisely 
adapted to the condition of the sinner, and include the most 
ample provision for present comfort and eternal happiness. 
" Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise 
of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." 
1 Tim. 4:8. There is nothing to hinder your immediate 
access to these exceeding great and precious promises, and 
to the enjoyment, so far as the present state admits, of all the 
good which they contain. " Come unto me,'' saith Jesus, 
" all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest." Matt. 11: 28. And "we," saith the apostle, 
" who have believed, do enter into rest." When this rest 
is, by the divine promise, placed, as it were, within your 
reach, why delay to accept of it ? Would the wise mer- 
chantman who has found a pearl of great price, delay to 
enrich himself by the purchase ? Would the young heir, 
who had just succeeded to a fair and ample inheritance, 
unnecessarily delay to enter on the possession ? Would the 
sick man, laboring under a painful and alarming disease, 
delay to take that medicine by which he might be speedily 
restored to perfect health 1 Or would the criminal con- 
demned to die, delay accepting the offer of pardon held out 
to him by the clemency of his prince ? 

And is it too soon, O sinful man, who art condemned 
already, and every moment exposed to the wrath of an 
Almighty Judge, is it too soon to flee from the wrath to 
come, and betake thyself to the stronghold opened to the 



4 THE DANGER OF DELAY. 

prisoners of hope ? Is it too soon to be released from the 
burden and terror of guilt, and to rise to confidence and 
peace with God ? Is it too soon to be restored to his friend- 
ship, and to walk in daily fellowship with the Father and 
his Son Jesus Christ ? Is it too soon to be cleansed from 
the pollution of sin, and to be raised to the honor of holy- 
conformity and dovotedness to God ? Is it too soon to turn 
from the low satisfactions, from the vain and transient en- 
joyments of the world, to those purer and nobler joys which 
Christ gives to those who come to him, and which will be 
in them a well of water springing up to everlasting life ? 
Is it too soon to obtain from the Lord Jesus Christ himself, 
and God, even the Father, that everlasting consolation and 
good hope through grace, which will not only comfort the 
believing heart under the unavoidable burdens of life, the 
disappointments, vexations, and tribulations of the present 
evil world, but teach him to look forward to death, not only 
without dismay, but even with desire and joy, and to triumph 
in the well-grounded prospect of a blessed immortality ? 
Are these the blessings which the Son of God has purchased 
by his blood, and which he freely tenders to men without 
money and without price ? Are these the blessings which 
it is necessary for his ministers to urge with continued 
importunity on your acceptance ? And are these the bless- 
ings which delaying sinners are willing, at least for a season, 
to forego, that they may, in the meantime, live without God, 
without Christ, without peace, and without hope in the 
world ? 

Consider that the present favorable opportunities of se- 
curing salvation, if neglected, may jmss away, never to return. 
Besides the general privilege of access to the Scriptures and 
to the preaching of the Gospel, many persons are favored 
with special advantages for leading them to the knowledge 
of the truth, and to a compliance with its design. Particular 
dispensations of Providence sometimes concur with the word, 



THE DANGER OF DELAY. 5 

and impress its truths on the minds of men. There are, it 
may be presumed, but few who have not occasion to recol- 
lect certain seasons and circumstances in life, in which the 
attention has been awakened, the heart softened, desires 
excited, purposes formed, and a state of mind produced not 
far from the kingdom of God. But if these opportunities 
are not immediately improved, it must not be expected that 
they will be always enjoyed. Your pious parents, who 
longed, and labored, and prayed for your eternal welfare, 
may soon be laid in the dust; the faithful friend, whose 
warnings and persuasions have often been ineffectually em- 
ployed, may be taken away ; or, at last, considering your 
case as hopeless, he may cease to counsel or reprove. You 
may be led to exchange a lively and awakening ministry 
for one more adapted to foster security. Connections may 
be formed which will leave little leisure for serious consid- 
eration, and may present hindrances and opposition which 
the corruption of nature will be more disposed to yield to 
than resist. Unavoidable circumstances or voluntary en- 
gagements may occasion some to remove to a distant part 
of the world where no Bible will be found, no Gospel 
preached, no ordinances dispensed ; and wliere all the con- 
cerns of business and society will tend to extinguish con- 
victions, and to harden the heart through the deceitfulness 
of sin. 

And let it be particularly remarked, that to each indi- 
vidual some day, some occasion of hearing the doctrine of 
salvation, proves the last that shall ever be enjoyed — an 
eventful opportunity which concludes the whole period of 
divine forbearance, the long-continued series of gracious 
applications to the soul. The statement is not imaginary. 
It has often been realized, and continues to be realized in 
the case of multitudes from day to day. While Paul was 
confined a prisoner at Cesarea, the Roman governor, had he 
been so inclined, might often have heard the Gospel from 



6 THE DANGER OF DELAY. 

his lips ; and one such opportunity he certainly had. And 
as the apostle " reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and 
a judgment to come, Felix trembled." Acts 24 : 25. No 
subjects could have been more suited to his circumstances 
and character. His attention was arrested. His heart was 
impressed. His conscience was roused. He trembled 
under the apostle's discourse. Happy moment had Felix 
yielded to his convictions ; and with a resolution to follow 
the advice, besought the preacher to inform him what he 
must do to be saved ! He would not have made this appli- 
cation in vain. But he thought only of getting rid of his 
uneasy sensations. " Go thy way," he said, " for this tima; 
when I have a convenient season I will call for thee." Acts 
24 : 25. This was his last opportunity, and it passed, never 
to return. He afterwards sent for the apostle, hoping to 
receive money, but not to hear of the faith of Christ ; and 
we hear no more of him in any connection with the means 
of grace or the hopes of glory. 

The following passage in the life of Thomas Lord Lyt- 
tleton,* is related nearly in his own words : " I have had 
some serious conversations with my father ; and one even- 
ing he concluded by recommending me to address heaven to 
have mercy upon me, and to join my own prayers to his 
constant and paternal ones for my reformation. These ex- 
pressions, with his preceding counsels, and affecting delivery 
of them, had such an effect upon m.e that I had bent the 
stubborn sinews of my knees, when it occurred to me that 
ray devotions might be seen through the key-hole. This 
drew me from my pious attitude ; and having secured this 
aperture, I thought it would not be a useless precaution to 
let down the window-curtains also ; and during the perform- 
ance of that ceremony, some lively music which struck up 
in the street caught my attention, and gave a sudden flirt to 

* Son of George Lord Lyttleton, who -wrote the celebrated 
treatise on the conversion and apostleship of St. Paul. 



THE DANGER OF DELAY. 7 

all my devout ideas ; so I girded on my sword and went to 
the theatre, where the entertainments soon put me out of 
humor with praying, and into humor with myself." 

Reader, it may be that thine eyes have looked for the 
last time on the sacred volume which contains the record 
of eternal life. It may be that thine ears have heard, for 
the last time, the joyful sound which brings the message of 
reconciliation and peace. It may be that the plain consid- 
erations to which thou art now attending, convey the last 
expostulation that shall ever be offered to thy conscience. 
It may be that the feelings of penitence and anxiety are for 
the last time rising in thy heart. Dost thou say with Felix, 
Go thy way till I have a convenient season ? May not the 
awful sentence be coming forth from heaven, " My Spirit 
shall strive no longer. He is joined to his idols, let him 
alone. Leave him to a self-righteous confidence, to a delu- 
sive peace, to a hope that shall perish." When our Lord 
drew nigh, for the last time, to the city of Jerusalem, that 
infatuated and devoted city, " he wept over it, and said. If 
thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the 
things which belong to thy peace ! but now they are hid 
from thine eyes." Luke 19: 42. 

Consider that the difficulties of repentance will not he 
diminished, hut, on the contrary, increased hy delay. A 
moral and spiritual change, described by our Lord as a new 
and heavenly birth, must necessarily pass on the heart of 
every man before he can be qualified for the blessedness of 
heaven. A divine agency is necessary to produce it ; and 
therefore its accomplishment must, in every person and in 
every circumstance, be equally easy to Almighty power. 
But the Holy Ghost operates in a manner suited to our 
nature as rational though fallen creatures. His grace is 
intended not to supersede the exercise of our faculties, but 
to direct and dispose the sinner to comply with the gracious 
demands of the Gospel. While the Holy Spirit enlightens 



3 THE DANGER OF DELAY. 

the understanding, convinces the judgment, and persuades 
the will, it is the duty and business of the sinner to receive 
the record of eternal life, and turn to God. But it ought to 
be remembered that this heavenly influence is neither cal- 
culated nor intended to prevent the soul from sensibly expe- 
riencing the difficulties that may be expected to attend so 
complete a change of moral dispositions and conduct. And 
these difficulties, it is evident, must be greatly augmented 
by delay. How difficult and painful must it be to relinquish 
habits that have now become inveterate ; to subdue sinful 
propensities confirmed by long indulgence ; to make all 
those sacrifices of worldly attachments and connections, 
interests and pleasures, that Christian duty may demand ; 
and, in short, to pursue a spiritual and holy course of life, 
altogether opposite to the strongest inclinations of unrenewed 
nature ! " Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leop- 
ard his spots ? Then may ye also do good, that are accus- 
tomed to do evil." Jer. 13 : 23. 

And if it be proposed to defer repentance till the conclu- 
sion of life draws near, must not the difficulties of a work, 
arduous even in the most favorable circumstances, be then 
increased to an extreme degree ? When, as the course of 
nature warrants us to expect, the body is enfeebled, and the 
faculties impaired by age ; when every thought is occupied 
in seeking relief from the pressure of infirmity and pain ; 
and when the mind is agitated by all the anxieties which 
the approaches of dissolution must excite ; is this the season 
thou hast chosen, imprudent man, for beginning thy ac- 
quaintance with God, and preparing for judgment and eter- 
nity ? Can any thing less than insanity dictate such a 
choice ? And can it be seriously adopted by any man who 
professes to admit the duty and entertain the purpose of ever 
returning to God ? 

The delaying sinner forgets his absolute dependence on 
the sovereign mercy and grace of God. The blessings of 



THE DANGER OF DELAY. g 

salvation are in the Gospel freely held forth to sinners ; but 
God is under no obligation to impart them to any individual, 
far less to keep them in reserve till the sinner finds himself 
disposed to seek them. God, indeed, is rich in mercy, and 
is " long-suffering to us ward, not willing that any should 
perish, but that all should come to I'epentance." 2 Peter, 
3:9. It is not for us to prescribe to God, or to limit the 
extent of his mercy. He certainly may, and sometimes 
does raise up, even from among sinners distinguished by 
their hardness of heart and long-continued guilt, signal mon- 
uments of his sovereign mercy and superabounding grace. 
But the question is not what God may do ; of that he him- 
self is best judge ; and " shall not the Judge of all the earth 
do right ?" But the question is, What may sinners war- 
rantably expect, according to the declarations of his word 
and the unchangeable principles of his government ? Now, 
while the Scriptures contain the most gracious invitations 
and promises, to engage perishing sinners to receive the 
grace that brings salvation, not the least encouragement is 
given to justify delay. On the contrary, hesitation and 
delay are represented as highly criminal and provoking to 
God, and calculated to draw down the visitation of his wrath. 
" Again," as the apostle states the fact, " he limiteth a cer- 
tain day, saying in David, To-day, after so long a time ; as 
it is said, To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your 
hearts." " Behold, now is the accepted time ; behold, now 
is the day of salvation." 2 Cor. 6 : 2. 

Canst thou then expect, O misjudging man, who art 
postponing till hereafter, attention to thy eternal interests, 
canst thou expect that after giving the best of thy days to 
sin and the world, and long insulting the Majesty of heaven 
by despising the riches of his grace, the great God will be 
more ready than at present to extend to thee his saving 
mercy? Canst thou expect that the blessed Jesus, whose 
voice thou hast so long refused to hear, and whose precious 

VOL. III. 12 



J Q THE DANGER OF DELAY. 

blood thou hast so long trodden under foot, will then be 
more disposed than at present to undertake thy cause, and 
become thy intercessor with the Father ? Canst thou ex- 
pect that the Holy Spirit, grieved and vexed with thy delay, 
will then be more disposed to exert his saving energy, and 
fulfil in thy heart all the good pleasure of his goodness? 
Or, rather, is there not just cause to fear that he may be 
provoked to deal with the delaying sinner as with Israel of 
old, who tempted him and provoked him, and saw his works 
in the wilderness ; and of whom he said, " Forty years long 
was I grieved with this generation ; it is a people that do 
err in their hearts, and they have not known my ways: 
unto whom I sware in my wrath that they should not enter 
into my rest?" Psalm 95: 9-11. 

Consider the great uncertainty of life. It has all along 
been supposed that the delaying sinner 7nay live till the pe- 
riod arrives which he has fixed for attending to the salvation 
of his soul. But the folly and danger of trusting to this 
supposition are surely very great. What can be more un- 
certain than human life ? What is it but " a vapor, that 
appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away ?" 
Men do not leave the world in the order of time in which 
they enter it. Few only are permitted to arrive at old age ; 
and multitudes fall at every other period of life. Where 
are now the companions of thy youth, the friends of thy 
riper years, and a numerous society with whom, in various 
ways, thou hast been connected in life ? They have dis- 
appeared from the earth, and now exist in the world of 
spirits. Among these, how many have been cut down in 
the morning or noon-day of life ? To not a few, probably, 
the summons has been short ; and some have been called 
unexpectedly, in a moment perhaps, to pass to the eternal 
state. " In the morning they are like grass which groweth 
up. In the morning it flourisheth and groweth up ; in the 
evening it is cut down and withereth." Numerous cases 



THE DANGER OF DELAY. ^ 

of this sort have been furnished by the last and by every 
preceding year; and to these, numerous additions will no 
doubt be made by the next, and by every following year. 
In these circumstances, how unwise, beyond expression, 
must it be to delay the great concerns of immortality from 
day to day, and from one year to another. " Behold, the 
Judge standeth at the door. In such an hour as ye think 
not, and in a moment that ye are not aware," the summons 
may be given and thy soul required. " Escape, then, for 
thy life," O delaying sinner ! " look not behind thee, neither 
stay thou in all the plain ; escape to the mountains, lest 
thou be consumed." Gen. 19: 7. 

Consider the recollections which, it may he expected, will, 
in the eternal world, he the portion of the sinner who has 
perished hy delay. " It is appointed unto men once to die, 
and after this the judgment," "Behold, I come quickly, 
and my reward is with me, to give to every man according 
as his work shall be." And now the period has arrived 
when the offers of mercy are brought to a final close, and 
are succeeded by an awful and eternal judgment. Think 
of the state of the sinner who, having dismissed his convic- 
tions, never found the " convenient season," when he pro- 
posed to attend to them again. His body tormented in the 
flame ; his mind torn with feelings inexpressible ; doomed, 
in the infernal prison, to associate with satanic fiends and 
all the tribes of ungodly men, outcast from the mansions of 
bliss ! " And is this the place in which I am destined to 
dwell for ever ! How often in my lifetime was I apprised 
of its horrors, and warned to flee from the wrath to come ! 
But I despised the counsels of the God of mercy, and con- 
tinued to trifle with his gracious warnings, till my feet 
stumbled on the dark mountains, and I sunk into these 
abodes of woe." 

Nor will it afford the least comfort to dart a look across 
the impassable gulf, and perceive the kingdom of heavenly 



12 THE DANGER OF DELAY. 

glory shining from afar ; the great multitude which no man 
can number, arrayed in white robes, with palms of victory 
in their hands, and crowns of gold upon their heads, in the 
glorious presence of God and of the Lamb ! " How often 
was I invited to join that illustrious society, and to share in 
all their blessedness and glory ! But I hesitated and de- 
layed, and would not know the day of my visitation. And 
now my condemnation is just, my anguish intolerable, and 
my punishment everlasting !" 

Hasten, O sinner, to he wise, 

And stay not for the morrow's sun : 

The longer wisdom you despise. 
The harder is she to be won. 

O hasten, mercy to implore, 

And stay not for the morrow's sun ; 

For fear thy season should be o'er 
Before this evening's stage be run. 

O hasten, sinner, to return, 

And stay not for the morrow's sun ; 

For fear thy lamp should fail to burn 
Before the needful work is done. 

O hasten, sinner, to he hlest. 

And stay not for the morrow's sun ; 

For fear the curse should thee arrest 
Before the morrow is begun. 

O Lord, do thou the sinner turn ! 

Now rouse him from his senseless state ! 
O let him not thy counsel spurn. 

Nor mourn his fatal choice too late ! 



No. 81, 



THE 



SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

BY A CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, 

FORMERLY A LIEUTENANT IN THE ROYAL NAVY. 



^yiiljl^ifr 1''^^ 




%r,i,m'} 



When we behold a vessel launched, for the first time, 
into the water, we know not what its future history may be. 
All we are sure of is, that it will have to beat about at sea, 
to contend with storms and calms, to be endangered by cur- 
rents and rocks and sands, to be in frequent peril from the 
breaking sea, the forked lightning, and the ignorance and 
ill-management of the crew. 



VOL. Ill 



2 THE.SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

But how long it may float amidst these dangers and vi- 
cissitudes of evil we know not ; neither are we acquainted 
by what event, or in what part of the world, it may be 
brought to its end. It may founder soon after it leaves 
port ; it may be set on fire, and consumed in the midst of 
the waters ; it may be torn, as it were, plank from plank, 
by its laboring and plunging in a heavy and continued hur- 
ricane ; or it may be suddenly dashed to pieces on some 
sunken rock, even while the sky is clear and the wind di- 
rectly fair. By some such means it may be brought to its 
end. Or it may escape all these perils, and, after weather- 
ing many storms and visiting many distant parts of the 
world, it may return in peace, and in its own port end its 
days, full of credit, and followed with many a long and 
kind remembrance by those who had sailed on board. 

So when the children of men are born into this world, 
and launched on the unsettled ocean of life, we know not 
what their future history may be. All we are sure of is, 
that " they are born to trouble as the sparks fly upward ;" 
that, if they are permitted to continue the voyage of life 
for any length of time, they will have to contend with ten 
thousand dangers, as well from the flesh as the world and 
satan. They may go down to the grave soon after they are 
launched into life ; or they may proceed awhile on their 
voyage, and then be destroyed by the flames of youthful 
lusts which war against the soul. Surrounded by the fair 
winds and cheering skies of a gracious Providence, they 
may run on, thoughtless of futurity, inattentive to the ad- 
vice of friends, and perfectly indifferent to the admonitions 
of God's word. Hence, they may become covetous, idola- 
ters, ambitious tyrants, or haughty and presumptuous infi- 
dels. The gales of human approbation and the love of 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-G5^.ASS. 3 

money may so inflate their souls, that, like an overpressed 
vessel, they may be upset and perish. The swelling waves 
of adversity may break repeatedly over them, and they may 
sink in despondency and despair. Or, escaping all these 
evils, they may pass through a long and useful life, honor- 
ing God by works of faith, and benefiting mankind by labors 
of love ; and having walked watchfully and humbly before 
the Lord, and through his grace surmounted all dangers, 
they may close their days in a good old age, in the bosoms 
of their own families, and depart in peace, to be for ever 
with their gracious Lord and Saviour in heaven ; 

" Where, anchor'd safe, each weary soul 
Obtains a port of rest ; 
Where storms ne'er beat, nor billows roll 
Across the peaceful breast." 

NAVIGATING THE SHIP. 

In vaiii would it be to fit out the finest ship in the best 
and most expensive manner ; in vain to put the most valu- 
able cargo on board, and lo send her to sea in the fairest 
season, and under the most flattering circumstances : in vain 
I say, would be all this care and expense, and all these ad- 
vantages_, if, when she got into deep water, the log, and 
compass, and quadrant, were to be neglected. She might 
float a few leagues, indeed, but as to circumnavigating the 
globe, and returning safe and enriched at last, there would 
be no hope of such results ; on the contrary, the ship, and 
men, and cargo, would sooner or later be lost. Of this 
seamen are so confident, that they would not sail on board ' 
a vessel whose officers were likely to act so mad a part. 
Hence, at sea there is great care taken to keep the log 



4 THB SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

going, to steer by the compass, to consult the chart, to ob- 
tain soundings, and get observations of the sun and other 
heavenly bodies, by the quadrant, as often as possible. 
Every careful navigator sees to all these things, and settles 
his reckoning, and endeavors to find the bearings and dis- 
tance of the nearest land, and of his intended port, at least 
once in every four and twenty hours. 

So with respect to man. In vain are all his best natural 
faculties of mind, his valuable helps of education, his fair 
and smiling prospects in the world ; these will avail noth- 
ing towards conducting him safe and happy across this dan- 
gerous sea of life to a heavenly kingdom, unless the-y are 
brought into constant and suitable use. Nor can all the 
natural and worldly advantages that ever distinguished man, 
conduct his soul to heaven, without the grace of God attend- 
ing, and blessing, and sanctifying all his natural gifts. This 
being the case, it becomes necessary for the most rich and 
learned, as well as for the poor and illiterate, to use e'''<^^y 
means of grace in their power : to hear the wm^d of God, to 
pray, to meditate, to watch their steps, to bridle their tongue, 
to suppress their anger, to regulate their whole course by 
the compass of Scripture. Without this they may indeed, 
for a season,, appear to go on as well as others, and, for a 
time, even to prosper ; but shortly they will strike on some 
fatal rock, or founder in the whirlpools of ignorance, infidel- 
ity, or presumption. This the thoughtful Christian knows, 
and therefore he consults his Bible as the chart which is to 
point out his various dangers across this perilous and intri- 
cate ocean. From time to time, by self-examination, he 
fathoms his own heart, and compares its soundings with 
those laid down in the map of God's word. He looks 
forward, and calculates on approaching dangers and temp- 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 5 

tations, and then directs his eyes to heaven, to Jesus Christ 
the Sun of righteousness, for wisdom and grace to avoid 
them. 

TAKING ADVANTAGE OF WIND AND TIDE. 

Every seaman knows how absolutely necessary it is, that 
those who have the conducting of boats or ships should un- 
derstand and take advantage of wind and tide, while they 
are in their favor; because experience and common sense 
have taught them that " wind and tide stay for no man." 
Hence, they see the wisdom of catching a fair breeze when 
they can, and of making the most of it while it continues. 
When they are at sea, they also put the same wise princi- 
ples into action : they watch every shift of wind, and brace 
up or square the yards accordingly ; at one time hauling 
the bowlines, and at another slacking off the sheets ; at one 
time sailing on the starboard tack, and at another on the 
larboard, as may best suit to the varying element they have 
to contend with. Hence it is, that with the same wind, 
by skilful and proper management, twenty different vessels 
may at the same time be sailing on twenty different points * 
of the compass. It is by this watchfulness and skill, ac- 
companied with the blessing of Divine Providence, that so 
many ships pass in all directions on the bosom of the great 
deep to their various destinations. If, however, men go on 
board a ship, who are too ignorant, or too idle, to take ad- 
vantage of flowing tides, and fair and leading winds, it is no 
marvel if they lie wind-bound in a foreign country, or per- 
ish at sea ; while their more skilful and persevering neigh- 
bors return home in safety and peace. 

So it is in spiritual things. " There are seasons and fair 
gales of grace, golden opportunities of salvation afforded to 



6 THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

men, the neglect of which proves the loss and ruin of souls. 
Of what immense importance, then, it is, that we should 
watch, and study, and take all advantage of these favorable 
visitations, these leading opportunities of grace. How 
necessary to trim every sail, every faculty of the soul, to 
all the various gracious providences of God ; that we 
occupy with every intrusted talent, and sail with every 
favorable gale, until, through the mercy of God in Christ 
Jesus, we have run our distance, finished our voyage, and 
received our crown." 

THE FAIR-WEATHER AND FRESH-WATER SAILORS. 

On board of large ships there are all sorts of charac- 
ters, and not a few who are called " fair-weather sailors." 
These, so long as all is fine and smooth on deck, can talk 
much, and boast and swagger of their knowledge and readi- 
ness to do great things. But when the sea gets up, when 
the gale comes on in earnest, and the ship is in some danger, 
these boasting talkers are often found to be good for nothing. 
They have neither knowledge to perform their duty, nor 
courage to go through with it. 

There are, also, in every seaport town, many fresh- 
water sailors, or young fellows, who, on a fine day, put on 
a gay jacket and pair of trowsers, and pull or sail about in 
a boat up and down the rivers, or at some harbor's mouth ; 
on these occasions they curse and swear, and think them- 
selves braver men than Nelson himself. And what still 
makes this folly and wickedness the greater, is, that it is 
frequently on the Lord's day, that holy Sabbath, wTien they 
ought to be worshipping God, instead of taking their child- 
ish pleasure on the water. But do the fine jackets and 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 7 

trowsers which these men put on, or the oaths they swear, 
or the swaggering language they use, make I'eally brave 
men ? No ; for if the sky becomes cloudy, or a breeze 
freshens up, these counterfeit mariners soon hasten to the 
nearest land, and run with all their might from the vulgar 
gale and unpleasant breaking waves, preferring a snug 
house and comfortable fireside, where they can sit and talk 
brave language, and admire their unspotted sea-dress ; 
leaving it to others to face the storm in deep water. In one 
word, it is not a man's appearance, nor his language, that 
proves his real character. A stormy day, and I'eal danger, 
are things that no true seaman ever wishes to meet for the 
sake of showing his skill and bravery ; but they are the 
things that actually prove who are brave and skilful sea- 
men, and who are only fair-weather and fresh-water sailors. 
So, in the Christian world, and in every society of pro- 
fessed Christians, whether by land, or by sea, there are a 
variety of characters who much resemble those above de- 
scribed. There are fresh- water, or rather counterfeit 
Christians, or, if you please, imitators and impostors, who 
put on the profession of religion, and sail down the stream, 
indulging their own pleasure, and exhibiting their proud, 
tawdry dress, and their dear idolized persons ; and while 
they are thus mocking God, they often persuade themselves 
they are great characters. These, however, are never 
found to bear reproach for Christ, nor to deny themselves 
one darling lust or pleasure. And if at any time their 
profession of religion threatens to bring such a trial, they 
quickly turn to the world, and leave vulgar Christians to 
encounter envy, hatred, malice, and reproach, for following 
that Saviour, who, with his disciples of old, was despised 
and rejected of men, and who is found to receive the same 



Q THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

treatment from the lovers of pleasure in our own times. 
Others proceed a little further ; they embark in the cause 
of Christ, go with his real servants, and are often, like the 
fair-weather sailors, found to talk with more confidence and 
freedom than old and experienced Christians. Yet these, 
with all their self-confidence and showy profession, are fre- 
quently found to flinch in times of trial, and in seasons of 
difficulty and danger to betray great ignorance, and great 
cowardice. 

As no real seaman makes light of past dangers, nor 
wishes to meet future ones, to display his courage, so no 
real Christian makes light of past temptations, or ever ex- 
presses his wish to encounter future ones. On the contrary, 
if it were possible, the wisest and bravest seamen would 
wish to pass through life without being exposed to one more 
storm ; and the wisest and best Christians would desire to 
go on to the end of their pilgrimage, without having to 
encounter one more temptation. But as this is not the will 
of God, they learn, as often as the season of trial comes, to 
look to him who alone can give them strength, and wisdom, 
and courage ; and when he has brought them through the 
difficulty, their language is, " Not unto us, O Lord, not 
unto us, but to thy name be all the praise." 

" I have no skill the snare to shun, 

But thou, O Christ, my wisdom art ; 
I ever into danger run ! 

But thou art greater than my heart" 

As to vain talkers, the fair-weather and fresh-water 
Christians, they are more to be pitied than despised. If the 
grace of God has made us to differ from them, let us not 
forget that it is only the grace of God which has made the 
difference. And for them let our prayer be offered up. 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 



THE STORM. 



No man has long been at sea without experiencing what 
the landsman calls tempests and storms. And those who 
have navigated foreign seas, and been accustomed to distant 
voyages, have often witnessed what no mere resident on 
shore can form any adequate idea of; the gathering dark- 
ness and wild confusion of a tempest-driven sky, torn asun- 
der only to make way for fresh discharges of lightning and 
stronger bowlings of the wind ; the thunder rolling through 
the vault of heaven, and shaking the trembling masts down 
to the very keels of the laboring vessel. The mountain- 
waves, piling on each other, rushing forward, and sounding 
the very knell of death as they break, and half bury the 
restless bark in their dreary foam. The sails blowing from 
the yards, the yards themselves gone in the slings ; the 
masts perhaps plunging over the side, and carrying part of 
the hapless crew with them into the merciless deep. The 
groaning wreck rolling ungovernable in the trough of the 
sea ; the leaks increasing and gaining on the crew, the chain 
pumps sending forth their dismal clanking sound ; and above 
all, a frightful lee-shore stretching itself wathin view, and 
every hour becoming more and more distinct, frowning only 
death on all who approach it. 

These are scenes on which poets have often written, and 
orators have harangued their audience ; but they are scenes 
which neither poets nor orators can describe as they really 
appear to those that themselves "go down to the sea in 
ships, that do business in great waters." These men do 
indeed " see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the 
deep." Oh, that they were but more inclined to acknow- 
ledge his hand, and to fear his power, to seek his blessing, 

VOL. III. 13 



IQ THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

and to love and believe in his Son Jesus Chi'ist ! Surely 
it is no discredit for the bravest seaman to confess that his 
heart has often sickened within him, while his hands have 
still perseveringly labored through these almost hopeless 
and melancholy scenes. The Lord has a voice that will be 
heard when he " thunders in the excellency of his power ;" 
nor did I ever see that wretch who was hardy enough to 
call on God to damn his soul, while the thunder rolled in his 
ears, and the vivid lightning passed before his eyes. On 
the contrary, I have noticed that those who were, at other 
times, altogether strangers to thoughtfulness and reflection, 
were, at these seasons, serious, sensible men. At these 
times they have been ready to allow, 

" There is a God that reigns above, 
Lord of the lieav'ns, and earth, and seas :" 

at these moments they have seemed half disposed 

To " fear his wrath, to ask his love, 
And with their lips to sing his praise." 

And now, reader, if you can find a profane infidel, 
whether officer or foremastman, who pretends that he never 
had such feelings on such occasions ; that he never did, 
nor ever will, tremble at the sounding thunder in the skies, 
or the roaring, breaking surf, or a lee-shore ; I will at 
once pronounce such person an enemy to truth, a fool, or a 
madman. It is not in the power of nature to view such 
scenes as these with indifference ; and none can contemplate 
such deaths with calmness and serenity but men of strong 
grace, who have a well-grounded hope that Christ Jesus has 
pardoned their sins, that the eternal God is their reconciled 
Father, and that the hour which throws their breathless 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. n 

corpse on the deadly rock, will convey their happy liberated 
spirit into Abraham's bosom. And this hope, this confi- 
dence, no infidel, nor profane character, ever did, or ever 
will possess. There is no such peace as this, saith our God, 
to the wicked. Their souls are like the troubled ocean, 
never at rest. 

But it is not only in the confused elements of this lower 
world that there are storms and tempests. These things 
exist, though in another form, in the spiritual world. 
There are tempestuous seasons in the life of a Christian. 
There are storms and conflicts in his bosom, to which the 
ungodly part of the world are entire strangers ; yes, it 
may truly be said, that all Christians, who have, for any 
length of time, been navigating this restless, dangerous sea 
of life, have, in their conflicts with their own hearts, with 
the world, and with the mighty powers of darkness, had 
real experience that " through much tribulation we must 
enter the kingdom of heaven." It sometimes falls to the 
lot of those who fear the Lord, and obey the voice of his 
servants, to walk in darkness, and have little or no light ; 
for a season their course leads them through gloomy deserts, 
and thence into the mire and clay ; at other times they 
seem to be sinking in the deep waters, and all the storms 
and waves of an angry ocean appear to go over their souls ; 
they look to heaven, but clouds and darkness are round 
about the Almighty's throne ; they see nothing but supposed 
tokens of anger, and signs of his threatening judgment. 
The thunders of his righteous violated law shake them. 
The lightnings and arrows of vindictive justice make them 
afraid. All their efforts seem useless; the storm yet in- 
creases, and hope sickens, and almost expires. Then it is 
that the yawning grave begins to shout, victory ! victory ! 



22 THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

Then it is that death has an envenomed sting, and heaven 
is beheld as a coast whose ports are shut against their en- 
trance ; as a shore where they are to be wrecked, and not 
saved ! Of these things the thoughtless children of the 
world may sometimes have heard, and sometimes they may 
have talked about them ; but still they do not, cannot under- 
stand them, till actual experience has taught the otherwise 
incommunicable lesson. 

Should any talkative, bold professor here start up and 
say, " He has laid aside all his fears and his legal bondage : 
he has learned to walk in the freedom and liberty of the 
Gospel, as one who knows his soul can never founder, nor 
his faith ever suffer shipwreck ;" it would be well for such 
person to attend to Saint Paul's admonition in 1 Cor. 10 : 
12 — " Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he 
fall." 

Surely, when we consider the nature of our spiritual 
conflict, we must allow it to be awfully tremendous. " For 
we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against princi- 
palities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness 
of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." 
Eph. 6 : 12. Hence it is, we are directed to " take the 
whole armor of God, that we may be able to stand in. the 
evil day ;" and, beyond all doubt, a watchful, humble, pray- 
ing spirit is an important portion of that armor. Nor is it 
any discredit for the most heroic Christian to confess, with 
the saints of old, that his fears are often multiplied, and his 
spirit cast down within him ; that in time past he had nearly 
fainted, and sunk under the conflict, but that a gleam of 
hope still remained, which cheered his soul with the per- 
suasion that he should one day see the goodness and the 
salvation of the Redeemer in the land of the living. 



THE SEAxMAN'S SPY-GLASS. jg 

Real Christian life is a life of conflict ; a voyage made 
up of many storms, and some calms. It is an ocean whose 
waters are sometimes smooth, but more frequently rough 
and stormy ; it is a contest and a race, in which the flesh 
contends against the spirit. It is that entrance to heaven, 
which is so strait and narrow as to call forth not a hw idle 
efforts, but our agonizing endeavors to pass its portals. 
Away, then, with all this empty, unhallowed boasting ; since 
the Lord himself has pronounced that man blessed who is 
of a humble and contrite spirit, and that trembleth at his 
word. May the writer and the reader be always attended 
by that filial, sanctified fear, which shall keep us poor in 
spirit, and watchful unto prayer ! Then, and not otherwise, 
shall we be enabled to surmount the storm, to fight the good 
fight, to finish our course, to keep the faith, and at last, 
through the redeeming love of Jesus Christ, to receive the 
crown. 

Oh, thou adorable and blessed Saviour, I do not ask an 
exemption from the allotted trials of man on earth ; but I 
beseech thee to be a present God in every time of trouble ; 
for, 

" While thou, O Lord, thyself art nigh, 
Who, who can violate our rest ? 
Sin, earth, and hell, we can defy, 
While leaning on thy gracious breast." 

THE MIDDLE WATCH. 

That ocean which we have lately considered under its 
rough and boisterous form, is not always thus rude and 
tempestuous. It is sometimes smooth and placid as the 
rivulet that glides gently through our meadows ; a breeze 
indeed sweeps its bosom, but it is such as might carry along 
VOL. III. 13*^ 



14 THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS 

the smallest skiff in safety for hours and days together. 
This is a pleasing sight at all times, but especially so in 
the midnight season. To come on deck, and find all bus- 
tling duty suspended — to perceive every sail stretched to 
the fair and gentle breeze — to see the vessel cut her way 
silently, but swiftly, through the yielding waters — to look 
above and behold a cloudless sky, exhibiting stars of various 
orders and magnitudes, dispersed through the wide expanse 
of boundless space — to watch the moon gliding along through 
their ranks, while her silver beams play across the rippled 
ocean as far as the eye can pierce : all this is pleasing, and 
has a natural tendency to promote reflection. Nor do I 
doubt but some of my readers have enjoyed these scenes in 
common with myself. 

True, there are many on board who care for none of 
these things ; men who seem to have neither eyes to behold, 
nor hearts to admire, the wonders of creation and providence. 
By them the fair weather middle watch is passed through in 
a variety of unprofitable ways. Some walk the deck in 
sullen musings on what they consider their hard fate. 
Others more cheerful, but equally uninterested with the 
works of God, collect together, and tell marvellous tales of 
enchanted castles, of Blue-Beard, or Jack the giant-killer. 
Others join in singing some love-ditty, or warlike song of 
past battles and conquests. And some, wrapping themselves 
in their watch-coat, sleep away their time till, roused by the 
call of duty, or the expiration of the watch, they descend to 
their hammocks. On these occasions, the thoughtful, intel- 
ligent Christian sailor will not break in upon, or interrupt 
his comrades in their enjoyments ; so long as they appear to 
be happy, and no improper language is used, he will rather 
rejoice that they are comfortable. Though he may esteem 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. J5 

their amusements as trifling, he will not use reproachful 
language, nor display the part of an officious intruder ; but 
will seek his own superior enjoyment in thought and reflec- 
tion on what surrounds him. Leaning over the gangway, 
or quietly pacing and repacing the deck, he will converse 
tvith God, and with himself, in some such way as this : 

" Eternal wisdom ! thee we praise, 
Thee the creation sings : 
With thy loved name, rocks, hills, and seas. 
And heaven's high palace rings. 

There thou hast bid the globes of light 

Their endless circuits nm ; 
There the pale planet rules tlie night, 

And day obeys the sun. 

If down I turn my wond'ring eyes 

On clouds and storms below. 
Those under regions of the skies 

Thy numerous glories show. 

Here the rough mountains of the deep 

Obey thy strong command ; 
Thy breath can raise the billows steep, 

Or sink them to the sand. 

Thy glories blaze all nature round. 

And strike the wond'ring sight, 
Through skies, and seas, and solid ground, 

With terror and delight." 

But what are stars, or sun, or moon, or this earth, or 
yonder visible heavens, in comparison to one immortal 
soul? There is an appointed time, when these heavens 
shall pass away with a great noise, and these elements shall 
melt with fervent heat ! But my immortal spirit cannot 
pass away ! There is a day coming when the stars shall 



2Q THE SE-\MAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

fall from heaven, as the fig-tree casteth her untimely leaves 
to the gromid; a day when "this earth, and all that it in- 
herits, shall dissolve;" when this ocean shall give up its 
myriads of dead, and then be found no more. But my soul 
must still exist ! O, most gracious Lord God, do thou help 
me, a poor worm, but still thy creature, and an immortal 
being, to think of thee as I ought, to love thee as thou de- 
servest, to obey thee in all thy commands. Keep my soul 
while it is hovering over the gulf of eternity, pardon all its 
sins through the atoning blood of Christ, and sanctify all its 
faculties by thy Holy Spirit, before it quits this short and 
fleeting life, to receive its eternal portion. O my God, ere 
that day arrives, do thou quell every sinful passion within 
my breast ; suppress every unhallowed disposition of my 
will, as thy power has quelled every angry storm, and sub- 
dued every raging motion of these surrounding waters. O 
let my soul be steadily and rapidly urging on its way to 
thine everlasting kingdom, as our vessel is now pursuing 
her course to her port of destination. 

THE ANCHOR. 

So necessary are anchors to shipping, that they could 
not possibly be safe without them. On ten thousand oc- 
casions they are the security of every vessel. By their 
means the ship is held in safety while the storm howls 
through the masts and rigging, and the breaking surge 
rolls by on either side. By them the vessel is prevented 
from drifting down with the current on some deadly shoal, 
and from being drawn in shore towards dangerous rocks, 
in calm weather. Often, when dismasted and driving as a 
log, helpless and almost without hope, towards some harbor. 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 17 

less coast or wreck-covered beach, the anchor is the sea-^ 
man's last and only refuge. Just before his bark drifts 
among the angry breakers he lets it go ; it plunges through 
the troubled ocean, drives through every restless wave, 
and, fastening on the firm bottom, rides his trembling, half- 
wrecked ship in safety through the storm. 

Hence it is, that in the Scriptures our Lord Jesus Christ 
is called the Christian's anchor of hope, Heb. 6 : 19 ; and 
said to be both sure and steadfast. The mariner's anchor 
may, and indeed does sometimes fail him ; and in that fail- 
ure his last fond hope is gone, and destruction quickly fol- 
lows. But the Lord Jesus Christ never did, nor ever will, 
fail one soul who makes him his refuge and hope, his trust 
and confidence. Oh, how great is the blessing of having 
such an anchor as this to fly to! How great is the ca- 
lamity of being destitute of it, when the day of trial, or the 
hour of danger arrives ! It is a blessing always needful to 
have at hand. The soul without it would be more forlorn 
and unsafe than a coasting vessel without ground-tackling. 
We have seen how many perils surround and await the 
new-launched bark ; but these are really nothing in com- 
parison to what encompass and waylay the Christian ; for 

" Dangers of every shape and name 
Attend the followers of the Lamb ; 
Who leave the world's deceitful shore, 
And leave it to return no more." 

At one time the powerful stream of human corruptions, 
or the impetuous tide of vicious example, threatens to sweep 
him down on the rocks of destruction. At another, the 
secret and almost imperceptible, but no less dangerous 
shoals of prosperity, fame, and smiling circumstances, en- 
danger his very existence. At another, the storms of vie- 



jg THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

lent temptation, the overwhelming waves of an accusing 
conscience, or the furious gusts of unbelief and satanic 
suggestions, may be on the point of dashing him on the 
very reefs of perdition. And why is it, amidst so many 
perils, that his immortal spirit does not suffer shipwreck ? 
Because Jesus is its anchor and its stay — the eternal God 
and Saviour of men is his present help in every time of 
trouble. Happy indeed would that merchant be who could 
procure an anchor of infallible security to his vessel under 
every emergency. It would be considered by himself and 
his crew as beyond all price. But, alas ! such an anchor 
of safety for the bodies and natural lives of men is not to be 
forged out of the perishing materials of this sinful world. 
Jesus Christ, however, is all this to the Christian mariner's 
soul. He sends him forth, it is true, to contend with the 
dangers and buffetings of this world ; but he has prayed 
that he might be kept from the evil, John 17: 15; and 
therefore he will be preserved by an infallible and omnip- 
otent hand. 

" Though waves and storais go o'er his head. 
Though strength, and healtli, and friends be gone ; 
Though joys be wither'd all and dead, 
Though every comfort be withdrawn ; 
On this his steadfast soul relies, 
Jesus, his anchor, never dies." 

THE VOYAGE WELL ENDED, AND THE SHIP MOORED 
IN PORT. 

At length the voyage is brought to its close ; the home- 
ward-bound passage is completed. Let us reflect upon this 
period, so much to be remembered by the wandering mari- 
ners. With what cheerful countenances, with what joyful, 



THE SEAMAN'S SPY- GLASS. jg 

what inexpressible feelings, did the weather-beaten and 
long-absent voyagers behold and enter their long lost native 
port? This was the happy hour, the thoughts of which 
bore up their spirits under the burning suns of Africa, and 
amidst the snows and ice-mountains of Greenland. Yes, it 
was the thought of home, and the hope of returning thither, 
that made all the evils of foreign climates tolerable, and all 
the hardships and privations of the voyage seem light. 
And now those thoughts and hopes and expectations are 
more than realized ; the ship has entered within the pier- 
head ; the anchor is gone — the sails are unbent — the crew 
have stripped off their tarry, filthy garments — have clothed 
themselves in new apparel — are gone on shore, and in the 
welcome smiles of their dearest friends and kindred have 
forgotten all the storms and dangers and sufferings of the 
voyage, or only remember and speak of them to increase 
their present happiness. 

But what is all this when compared to the ripened 
Christian ending the voyage of life in peace, and entering 
into that haven of eternal rest where he so much longed to 
be ? All comparison sinks into nothing and vanity. Yet 
we may pursue the parallel, and observe that it was the 
hope of such a happy end which supported his spirits 
through the numberless trials and sufferings of life. When 
guilt and renewed temptations depressed and grieved his 
soul ; when pain and sickness wrung and enfeebled his 
body ; when poverty marked his circumstances ; and un- 
kindness or neglect sat on the brow of every pretended 
friend ; it was the hope of heaven that cheered his bosom, 
and strengthened him to contend with all the ills and evils 
he had to meet by the way. And now behold, in the Lord's 
best time, all his fears and sufferings are ended, and happy 



20 THE SEAMAN'S SPY-GLASS. 

experience has taught him the meaning of that voice which 
proclaimed to St. John from heaven, " Blessed are the dead 
who die in the Lord from henceforth : yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labors, and their works do 
follow them." 

To the real Christian, whether seaman or landsman, 
death comes as a kind messenger to bid him ship off this 
mortal coil with all its defiled and defiling garments. 
With one hand he turns the mortal out of a frail tenement 
of clay, and with the other he opens to him the gates of 
heaven, where Jesus beckons him to enter, and clothes him 
with a spotless robe, puts a palm in his hand and a crown 
upon his head. There, in the company of his dearest 
departed Christian friends, in the society of angels and 
archangels, and in the smiles of his glorified and visible 
Redeemer, he forgets all his former toils and sorrows and 
temptations, or only remembers and talks of them to in- 
crease his present and eternal felicity ; for there 

" All is tranquil and serene, 

Calm and undisturbed repose ; 
There no cloud can intervene, 
There no angry tempest blows ! 

" Every tear is wiped away, 

Sighs no more shall heave his breast ; 
Night is lost in endless day — 
Sorrow, in eternal rest." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 

SIN AND DANGER 

OF 

DESPISING A PREACHED GOSPEL. 



One of the exhortations of St. Paul to the Thessalonians 
is, "Despise not prophesyings ; " by which it is generally- 
agreed, he intended the ministry of the Word. He de- 
signed to guard those, to whom the Gospel was tendered, 
against the neglect or abuse of the great religious privilege 
of attending on its public ministration. If it was necessary 
to address so pointed an exhortation to persons living in the 
apostolic age, it will be generally admitted not to be less 
necessary at the present time, when so many are found 
either trampling upon, or undervaluing and slighting this 
important means of grace. We would, therefore, call upon 
you to consider the nature of this offence and its malignity 
and fatal consequences. 

1. The NATURE of this offence. 

There may have been unholy ministers, who, by their 
unguarded conduct, have contributed to destroy the influ- 
ence of divine truth in the world ; and it cannot be doubted 
that a dangerous weapon has, by such, been placed in the 
hands of its avowed enemies. False prophets have also 
gone forth, proclaiming sentiments directly at variance with 
the Gospel of Christ, and seducing men's minds from the 
grand characteristic doctrines of salvation. This is a cause 
of mourning and lamentation to the truly pious. But, 
blessed be God, a holy and Evangelical ministry has not 
ceased ; and instances of deplorable departure, in some, 
from the truth as it is in Jesus, form no excuse for under- 

VOL. III. 14 



2 THE SIN AND DANGER OF 

valuing ordinances appointed of God for the advancement 
of his kingdom in the world. We may be guilty, therefore, 
of the sin of despising a preached Gospel, 

1. 'By refusing to hear. In a country so abounding in 
religious privileges as ours, how lamentable, that we should 
have to mourn over the sad condition of thousands, who 
neither visit the sanctuary nor hallow the Sabbath. How 
affecting the thought, that those who revere the institutions 
of public worship, and who abandon the pursuits of this 
transitory scene for the duty of attending on its exercises, 
are only exceptions from a countless multitude, who seem 
willincr to live in the habitual neijlect of ordinances on which 
celestial spirits look down with veneration. What words 
can mark the guilt of those who trample on God's holy 
Sabbath, and either from devotion to business or pleasure, 
or culpable indolence, refuse to place themselves under the 
sound of that Gospel wiiich has " brought life and immor- 
tality to light." What an insult to the great Head of the 
church, to consider ordinances, established by him, to be 
unnecessary. Suppose that he who absents himself from 
the house of prayer, were employed from morning to even- 
ing, in searching the Scriptures, and in private acts of de- 
votion ; this, if it have not the apology of want of health, 
or some unavoidable impediment, cannot excuse the guilt 
of forsaking the assemblies of God's people. The substitu- 
tion of his own means for those of God, is an awful en- 
croachment on the prerogative of the supreme Lawgiver. 

But even this evasion is, for the most part, wanting in 
non-attendants on the public worship of God. They are 
generally scoffers, whose " sins go before them to judg- 
ment." And they who neglect the house of God, because, 
in the pride of their hearts, they suppose they have the 
means of spiritual improvement in their own habitations, 
should consider whether they are not almost as deeply in- 
gulfed in guilt. It is presumption, or the grossest self- 
deception, to profess to worship God, while that open, exter- 
nal homage, is withheld, which is essential to the very 



DESPISIXG A PREACHED GOSPEL. o 

existence and perpetuity of religion in the world. O that 
we may not be in the number of either one or other of those 
classes ! God grant that no persuasions of sinful men, m 
depraved bias of our own minds, no deceptive excuses, may 
tempt us to withdraw from a punctual attendance in those 
hallowed places, where the Lord Jesus has promised his 
special presence and blessing. 

2. By lisiening to it in an unsuitalle frame of mind. 

They who entirely, or for the most part, absent them- 
selves from the sanctuary, are not the only neglecters of 
the preaching of the word. How many go there, whose 
marked indifference, whose listless inattention, whose whole 
demeanor indicate that they hear without deriving the least 
improvement. What a melancholy spectacle, to see levity 
of countenance and conduct in some, and drowsiness in 
others, when the most pointed and earnest addresses are 
made by the minister of God, on subjects involving their 
everlasting welfare. How painful to the faithful minis- 
ter, anxious to bring sinners to Jesus, to see the very ob- 
jects of his solicitude, those whom he would "pluck as 
brands from the burning," evincing the most entire uncon- 
cern in the momentous subject of his communications. 
They who are all life and activity in the walks of business, 
or of pleasure, during the week, deny to the bestower of all 
their mercies, a few short hours of devout attention on the 
single day in seven which he has hallowed to himself; and 
that, not merely for his own glory, but as a means of incal- 
culable blessings to mankind. Can he hold those guiltless, 
who thus trifle with his honor and with the provisions of his 
grace ? 

And how can we excuse, from a measure of this guilt, 
those who, with the appearance of attention in the house of 
God, exhibit so little of its fruit ? They seem to listen with 
seriousness and gravity ; but they understand little, retain 
less, and feel not at all. Except in the article of exterior 
deportment, they are little better than the wandering gazer, 
or the lethargic sleeper, already noticed. They attend from 



4 THE SIN AND DANGER OF 

habit, and, if conscience have any share in impelling to the 
duty, it is too easily satisfied with the mere formalities of an 
outward worship. We might also number among despisers 
the censorious, captious, angry hearer of the Word, whose 
chief delight seems to consist in finding fault, and who 
arraigns and condemns, at the bar of his own contracted or 
perverted understanding, almost every minister and every 
sermon. And we might add to this enumeration, those who 
are ever wandering in quest of novelty, and are never satis- 
fied with the simple truths of the Gospel ; but delight to 
have them clothed in some splendid garb, which dazzles 
the imagination, and conceals from the carnal mind what- 
ever it may deem offensive in the blessed revelation of God. 
Ah ! it is but too evident, such know not the truth, and are 
enemies to the transforming power of true and experimental 
religion. 

3. By neglecting its right improvement. 

The ever-blessed God has not conferred so transcendant 
a gift as that of his well-beloved Son, without demanding an 
interest to be_ evinced, on our part, in some measure cor- 
responding to the unutterable value of the grant. We may 
not openly profane the Lord's day, nor scornfully neglect 
the ordinances of religion ; we may yield an outward com- 
pliance with the forms of piety ; we may observe due 
seriousness of demeanor in the house of prayer ; we may 
even listen with avidity to the communications of the pulpit, 
and give a decided preference to a vital and effective minis- 
try ; but O, how short we shall come of the demands of 
Christianity, if we stop here. Might we not venture to say, 
that all we have mentioned may consist with a state of 
mind laboring under the most determined and alarming 
unbelief? 

It is something more than external homage, which God 
requires. Nothing will satisfy him but " truth in the inward 
parts :" faith that credits the divine testimony ; love to Christ, 
to evince its reality ; holiness of life, the blessed fruit of 
both. The unbelieving heart is a partaker of \\o spiritual 



DESPISIiXG A TREACHED GOSPEL. 5 

blessing ; its possessor has not complied with the primary 
command of heaven ; and all his attempts to honor God, 
who rejects the Son of his love, merit only his indignant 
rejection. He who exercises a true faith in Christ, has been 
conscious that eternal misery or eternal happiness is sus- 
pended on the reception or refusal of his offers ; and has 
really accepted the gift which infinite mercy bestowed. O 
be persuaded that the Gospel requires faith, and love, and 
holiness ; and never will it charm away the maladies of the 
fall, until its sacred truths have taken full possession of the 
heart. Nothing but the unequivocal, heartfelt acceptance 
of the Gospel, will invest any with its countless blessings. 
The line wiiich separates one sinner from another becomes 
invisible, when compared with the mighty barrier which 
divides between the sinner and the saint. Destitute of faith, 
we have not made one remove from enmity to God. If not 
in word, yet in spirit, we are despisers of the Gospel. We 
are leaning, whatever our dependence, on a broken reed 
which will pierce our very hearts. We have reason to 
hear, with terror, a God of truth addressing us, " Behold, 
ye despisers, and wonder, and perish." Acts 13 : 41. We 
proceed to show, 

II. The MALIGNITY AND FATAL CONSEQUENCES of despis- 
ing a preached Gospel. 

After what has been said, no elaborate argument is ne- 
cessary to prove its criminality. We ask you to view it in 
all its malignity. Is it less heinous, because of the fre- 
quency of its commission ? Surely it cannot be, that the 
path which leads to destruction is consecrated by the num. 
bers that walk therein ! O, no. However many are in- 
volved in the sin, the nature of unbelief continues the same : 
the same in essence, the same in all its offensive qualities, 
the same under all the varying aspects it assumes, from the 
open neglect of public worship, to the most subtle exhibition 
of a false profession. The dcspiser of a preached Gospel is 
involved in all the guilt of this dark and malignant evil ; 
by which the truth of God is denied, the Saviour of men 
VOL. III. 14^ 



Q THE SL\ AND DAxXGER OF 

rejected, the heart hardened, the affections debased, and 
the whole man contaminated. If you would know the full 
guilt of despising the ministry of reconciliation, you must 
reflect on the unspeakable love in which its offers originated, 
the divine authority by which they are enforced, the display 
of grace which they contain. You must witness a God of 
infinite love stretching forth to a guilty world the sceptre of 
his mercy. You must hear the compassionate Redeemer 
calling upon " all the ends of the earth" to " look unto him, 
and be saved." You must conceive aright of all the rich 
provisions of his grace. And then you must contemplate 
the apostate creature, whom the Majesty of heaven has 
stooped from his radiant throne to save, rejecting his gra- 
cious offers, despising the Son of his love, and proudly 
turning away from the " unsearchable riches " of the Gos- 
pel. O, if there be guilt in living without the knowledge 
and fear of God, in " counting the blood of the covenant an 
unholy thing," in undervaluing privileges of the highest 
order and longest duration, in trifling with your never-dying 
souls, then " despise not prophesy ings," but wait with rev- 
erence and attention upon the communications of the am- 
bassadors of Christ, " beseeching you, in Christ's stead, to 
be reconciled to God." 

Reflect on the fatal consequences of despising their offers 
of God's mercy. " If our Gospel be hid," says the apostle, 
*'it is hid to them that are lost." What an alarming inti- 
mation ! A soul lost for ever ! When we endeavor to con- 
ceive of this, our limited faculties are confounded in the 
contemplation. It is not annihilation. The soul is possessed 
of an immortal being. But how affecting the idea, that, 
after millions of ages shall have rolled along, it shall still 
exist, deprived of all enjoyment, and enduring misery from 
which it can never, never be relieved. And all this, re- 
member, is the effect of holding in contempt the word of 
God. " The Lamb in the midst of the throne " was de^ 
spised — " the Lion of the tribe of Judah " pronounces the 
condemnation of the offender. " He that sitteth in the 



DESPISING A PREACHED GOSPEL. -7 

heavens shall laugh " at the despisers of his truth ; " the 
Lord shall have them in derision." Yet a little while, and 
the wonders of eternity shall open to your view. Behold, 
then, ye despisei-s of the Gospel, the day of your merciful 
visitation ended. Your cries of mercy will be all in vain. 
The sword of vengeance is drawn, and nothing but your 
endless destruction can satisfy the demands of justice. 
" Consider this, ye that forget God, lest he tear you in pie- 
ces, and there be none to deliver." " How shall ye escape, 
if ye neglect so great salvation V 

O, " see that ye refuse not him that now speaketh from 
heaven." He now warns you of your danger, and com- 
passionately calls upon you to avoid it. Fly to your benig- 
nant Saviour without delay. There is but one refuge — 
betake yourselves to it. There is but one hiding-place 
from the tempest of God's wrath — repair to its shelter. 
There is but one fountain — wash in it and be clean. 
There is but one sure foundation — build on it for eternity. 
There is but one sacrifice for sin — rely on its infinite merit. 
There is but one Mediator between God and man — cast all 
the mighty interests of your souls upon him. Let him be 
your friend, your Saviour, your exemplar, your portion, 
your defence, your everlasting Redeemer. 

But these things you will never do, while you live in 
the neglect of the institutions of religion. You must revere 
God's Sabbath, and believe his truth, and venerate and 
keep his ordinances. The Gospel, revealed in his word, 
preached by his ministers, and applied to your hearts in the 
demonstration of the Spirit and with power, must be the 
means of your salvation. You cannot turn away from it 
with impunity. O, then, become diligent readers of the word, 
and attentive hearers of its illustration and enforcement in 
the sanctuaries of the Lord. Come to it with the prayerful 
desire of being profited, and it may be made " the power of 
God and the wisdom of God " to the salvation of your souls. 
None ever wilfully neglected the worship of God and pros- 
pered. Millions have, in his sacred house, been visited with 



8 THE SIN AND DANGER OF, ETC. 

the impressions of his grace, swayed into the obedience of 
faith, made the subjects of his pardoning mercy, and, after a 
life of holiness, are now realizing the rest and enjoyment 
of heaven. God grant that you may become the follow. 
ers of those, " who, through faith and patience, inherit the 
promises." 

Raise, thoughtless sinner, raise thine eye, 
Behold the Judgment drawing nigh : 
Behold, tlie balance is displayed. 
And thou must be exactly weighed. 

See in one scale God's holy law ; 

Mark with what force its precepts draw ; 

Canst thou the awful test sustain ? 

Thy works how light ! thy thoughts how vain ! 

Behold the hand of God appears, 
And writes in dreadful characters, 
Tekel ! thy soul is wanting found ; 
Witli trembling, hear the awful sound. 

Let fear thy sin-bound heart embrace ; 
Let guilty shame o'erspread thy face. 
Conviction through thy conscience roll, 
And deep repentance fill thy soul. 

One only hope can yet prevail : 
Jesus for thee can turn the scale ; 
Can give thy guilty conscience peace. 
And save thee by his righteousness. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 83. 



ELIZA CUNNINGHAM 



BY REY. JOHN XE^YTON■, 

KECTOB OF 3T. MARY WOOLNOTH, L O N D O iT . 



'^ 

'^A 





When the following narrative was drawn up, the writer 
was aware that his feelings rendered him incompetent to 
judge how much of a relation, every part of which was in- 
teresting to himself, might be fit to offer to the public. He 
therefore wrote only for his friends, and printed no more 
copies than would be sufficient to distribute within the circle 
of his pei-sonal acquaintance. But as the paper has been 
much inquired after, and many of his friends have express- 
ed a wish that it might be more extensively circulated, he 
has at length yielded to their judgment. 



2 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

It is to be lamented, that in this enlightened age, relig- 
ion should, by many, be thought the only subject unworthy 
of a serious inquiry. And that while, in every branch of 
science, they are cautious of admitting any theory which 
cannot stand the test of experiment, they treat the use of the 
term Experimental, when applied to religion, with contempt. 
Yet there are many things connected with this subject, in 
v/hich, whether we are willing or unwilling, we are and 
must be nearly interested. Death, for instance, is inevita- 
ble ; and the consequences of death must be important. 
Many persons die, as they live, thoughtless of what conse- 
quences may await them. Others leave the world with 
reluctance and terror. And there are others who, though 
conscious that they are sinners, and sure that they are about 
to enter on an unchangeable and endless state of existence, 
possess peace, composure, and joy. These declare, that 
they owe this happy state of mind to their dependence on 
Jesus the Saviour, on whose death and mediation they have 
built their hopes. And who can disprove their words ? 
Such an instance is now in the reader's hands. The fact 
is indubitable. A child, under the age of fifteen, did thus 
rejoice in the midst of pains and agonies, to the admiration 
of all who beheld her. She was willing to leave all her 
friends whom she dearly loved, and by whom she was ten- 
derly beloved ; for she knew whom she believed, and that 
when she should be absent from the body, she should be 
present with the Lord. With this assurance, she triumphed 
in the prospect of glory, and smiled upon the approach of 
death. 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 3 

NARRATIVE, ETC. 

As I write, not for the eye of the public, but chiefly to 
put a testimony of the Lord's goodness into the hands of my 
dear friends, who have kindly atforded us their sympathy 
and prayers on the late occasion, I do not mean either to 
restrain the emotions of my heart, or to apologize for them. 
I shall write simply and freely, as I might speak to a person 
to whose intimacy and tenderness I might fully entrust my- 
self, and who, I know, will bear with all my weaknesses. 

In May, 1782, my sister Cunningham was at Edinburgh, 
chiefly on the account of her eldest daughter, then in the 
14th year of her age, who was very ill of a consumption. 
She had already buried an only son, at the age of twelve ; 
and while all a mother's care and feelings were engaged 
by the rapid decline of a second amiable child, she was un- 
expectedly bereaved of an affectionate and excellent hus- 
band. Her trials were great ; but the Lord had prepared 
her for them. She was a believer. Her faith was strong, 
her graces active, her conduct exemplary. She walked 
with God, and he supported her. And though she was a 
tender and sympathizing friend, she had a happy firmness 
of temper ; so that her character, as a Christian, and the 
propriety of her behavior in every branch of relative life, 
appeared with peculiar advantage in the season of affliction. 
She returned to Anstruther a widow, with her sick child, 
who languished till October, and then died. 

Though my sister had many valuable and pleasing con- 
nections in Scotland, yet her strongest tie being broken, she 
readily accepted my invitation to come and live with us. 
She was not only dear to me as Mrs. Newton's sister, but 
we had lived long in the habits of intimate friendship. I 
knew her worth, and she was partial to me. She had yet 



4 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

one child remaining, her dear Eliza. We already had a 
dear orphan niece, whom we had, about seven years before, 
adopted for our own daughter. My active, fond imagina- 
tion anticipated the time of her arrival, and drew a pleasing 
picture of the addition the company of such a sister, such a 
friend, would make to the happiness of our family. The 
children likewise — there was no great disparity between 
them, either in years or stature. From what I had heard 
of Eliza, 1 was prepared to love her before I saw her ; 
though she came afterwards into my hands like a heap of 
untold gold, which, when counted over, proves to be a larger 
sum than was expected. My fancy paired and united these 
children ; I hoped that the friendship between us and my 
sister would be perpetuated in them. I seemed to see them, 
like twin sisters, of one heart and mind, habited nearly 
alike, always together, always with us. 

Such was my plan ; but the Lord's plan was very dif- 
ferent, and therefore mine failed. It is happy for us, poor 
short-sighted mortals, unable as we are to foresee the con- 
sequences of our own wishes, that if we know and trust 
him, he often is pleased to put a merciful negative upon our 
purposes, and condescends to choose better for us than we 
can for ourselves. What might have been the issue of my 
plan, had it taken place, I know not ; but I can now praise 
and adore him for the gracious issue of his. I praise his 
name, that I can cheerfully comply with his word, which 
says, "Be still, and know that I am God." I not only can 
bow, as it becomes a creature and a sinner to do, to his sov- 
ereignty, but I admire his wisdom and goodness, and can 
say from my heart, " he has done all things well." 

My sister had settled her affairs previous to her re- 
moval ; and nothing remained but to take leave of her 
friends, of whom she had many, not only in Anstruther, but 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 5 

in different parts of the country. In February, 1783, I 
received a letter from her, which, before I opened it, I ex- 
pected was to inform me that she was upon the road in her 
way to London. But the information was, that, in a little 
journey she had made to bid a friend farewell, she had 
caught a violent cold, which brought on a fever and a 
cough, with other symptoms, which, although she described 
as gently as possible, that we might not be alarmed, obliged 
me to give up instantly the hope of seeing her. Succeeding 
letters confirmed my suspicions ; her malady increased, and 
she was soon confined to her bed. 

Eliza was at school at Musselburgh. Till then she had 
enjoyed a perfect state of health ; but while her dear mo- 
ther was rapidly declining, she likewise caught a great 
cold, and her life likewise was soon thought to be in danger. 
On this occasion, that fortitude and resolution which strongly 
marked my sister's character, was remarkably displayed. 
She knew that her own race was almost finished ; she ear- 
nestly desired that Eliza might live or die with us ; and the 
physicians advised a speedy removal into the south. Ac- 
cordingly, to save time, and to save Eliza from the impres- 
sion which the sight of a dying mother might probably make 
upon her spirits, and possibly apprehensive that the inter- 
view might make too great an impression upon her own, 
she sent this, her only, beloved child, directly to London, 
without letting her come home to take a last leave of her. 
She contented herself with committing and bequeathing her 
child to our care and love, in a letter, which, I believe, was 
the last she was able to write. 

Thus powerfully recommended by the pathetic charge 
of a dying mother, the dearest friend we had upon earth, 
and by that plea for compassion which her illness might have 
strongly urged even upon strangers, we received our dear 

VOL. III. 15 



Q NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CU.NN INGHAM. 

Eliza, as a trust, and as a treasure, on the 15th of March. 
My sister lived long enough to have the comfort of know- 
ing, not only that she was safely arrived, but was perfectly 
pleased with her new situation. She was now freed from 
all earthly cares. She suffered much in the remaining part 
of her illness, but she knew whom she believed ; she pos- 
sessed a peace past understanding, and a hope full of glory. 
She entered into the joy of her Lord on the 10th of May, 
1783, respected and regretted by all who knew her. 

I soon perceived that the Lord had sent me a treasure 
indeed. Eliza's pei'son was agreeable. There was an ease 
and elegance in her whole address, and a gracefulness in 
her movements, till long illness and great weakness bowed 
her down. Her disposition was lively, her genius quick 
and inventive ; and if she had enjoyed health, she probably 
would have excelled in every thing that required ingenuity. 
Her understanding, particularly her judgment and her sense 
of propriety, were far above her years. There was some- 
thing in her appearance that usually procured her favor at 
the first sight. She was honored by the notice of several 
persons of distinction, which, though I thankfully attribute 
in part to their kindness to me, I believe was a good deal 
owing to something rather uncommon in her. 

But her principal endearing qualities, which could be 
only fully known to us who lived with her, were the sweet- 
ness of her temper, and a heart formed for the exercise of 
affection, gratitude, and friendship. Whether, when at 
school, she might have heard sorrowful tales from children, 
who, having lost their parents, met with a great difference 
in point of tenderness when they came under the direc- 
tion of uncles and aunts, and might think that all uncles 
and aunts were alike, I know not^ but I have understood 
since from herself, that she did not come to us with any 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 7 

highly-raised expectations of the treatment she was to meet 
with. 

But as she found, (the Lord in mercy having opened our 
hearts to receive her,) that it was hardly possible for her 
own parents to have treated her more tenderly, and that it 
was from that time the business and the pleasure of our lives 
to study how to oblige her, and how to alleviate the afflic- 
tions w^hich we were unable to remove ; so we likewise 
found, that the seeds of our kindness could hardly be sown 
in a more promising and fruitful soil. I know not that 
either her aunt or I ever saw a cloud upon her countenance 
during the time she was with us. It is true, we did not, we 
could not, unnecessarily cross her ; but if we thought it 
expedient to overrule any proposal she made, she acquiesced 
with a sweet smile ; and we were certain we should never 
hear of that proposal again. Her delicacy, however, was 
quicker than our observation ; and she would sometimes 
say, when we could not perceive the least reason for it, " I 
am afraid I answer you peevishly ; indeed I did not intend 
it ; if I did, I ask your pardon ; I should be very ungrateful 
if I thought any pleasure equal to that of endeavoring to 
please you." It is no wonder that we dearly loved such a 
child. 

The hectic fever, cough, and sweats, which she brought 
with her from Scotland, were subdued in the course of the 
summer, and there appeared no reason to apprehend that 
she would be taken off very suddenly. But still there was 
a worm preying upon the root of this pretty gourd. She 
had seldom any severe pain till within the last fortnight of 
her life, and usually slept well ; but when awake she was 
always ill. I believe she knew not a single hour of perfect 
ease ; and they who intimately knew her state, could not 
but wonder to see lier so placid, cheerful, and attentive, 



Q NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

when in company, as she generally was. Many a time, 
when the tears have silently stolen down her cheeks, if she 
saw that her aunt or I observed her, she would wipe them 
away, come to us with a smile and a kiss, and say, " Do 
not be uneasy — I am not very ill — I can bear it — I shall be 
better presently ;" or to that effect. 

In April, 1784, we put her under the care of my dear 
friend, Dr. Benamor. To the blessing of the Lord on his 
skill and endeavors, I ascribe the pleasure of having her 
continued with us so long ; nor can I sufficiently express 
my gratitude for his assiduous, unwearied attention, nor for 
his great tenderness. She is now gone, and can no more 
repeat, what she has often spoken, of the great comfort it 
was to her to have so affectionate and sympathizing a phy- 
sician ; but while I live, I hope it will always be my pleasure 
to acknowledge our great obligations to him on her account. 
His prescriptions were carefully followed. But what can 
the most efficacious medicines or the best physicians avail 
to prolong life, when the hour approaches, in which the 
prayer of the great Intercessor must be accomplished, " Fa- 
ther, I will that they whom thou hast given me may be with 
me where I am, to behold my glory !" This was the proper 
cause of my dear Eliza's death. The Lord sent this child 
to me to be brought up for him ; he owned my poor endeav- 
ors ; and when her education was completed, and she was 
ripened for heaven, he took her home to himself. He has 
richly paid me my wages, in the employment itself, and in 
the happy issue. 

I have thus put together, in one view, a brief account of 
what relates to her illness, till within the last three weeks 
of her pilgrimage. I now come to what is much more im- 
portant and interesting. Her excellent parents had con- 
scientiously endeavored to bring her up in the nurture and 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 9 

admonition of the Lord, and principles of religion were in- 
stilled into her from infancy. Their labors were so far suc- 
cessful, that no child could be more obedient or obliging, or 
more remote from evil habits or evil tempers. But I could 
not perceive, when she first came to us, that she had any 
heart- affecting sense of divine things ; but being under my 
roof, she, of course, when her health would permit, attended 
on my ministry, and was usually present when I prayed 
and expounded the Scriptures, morning and evening, in the 
family. Friends and ministers were likewise frequently 
with us, whose character and conversation were well suited 
to engage her notice, and to help her to form a right idea 
of the Christian principles and temper. 

* Knowing that she was of a thinking turn, I left her to 
make her own reflections upon what she saw and heard, 
committing her to the direction of the Lord, from whom I 
had received her, and entreating him to be her effectual 
teacher. When I did attempt to talk with her on the con- 
cerns of her soul, she could give me no answer but with 
tears. But I soon had great encouragement to hope that 
the Lord had both enlightened her understanding, and had 
drawn the desires of her heart to himself. Great was her 
delight in the ordinances; exemplary her attention under 
the preaching. To be debarred from going to hear at our 
stated times was a trial, which, though she patiently bore, 
seemed to affect her more than any other ; and she did not 
greatly care what she endured in the rest of the week, pro- 
vided she was well enough to attend the public worship. 
The judicious observations she occasionally made upon what 
had passed in conversation, upon incidents, books, and ser- 
mons, indicated a sound, scriptural judgment, and a spiritual 
taste. And my hope was confirmed by her whole deport- 
ment, which was becoming the Gospel of Christ. So that 

VOL. IIL 15*^ 



10 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

had she died suddenly on any day within about a year and 
a half past, I should have had no doubt that she had passed 
from death unto life. But I could seldom prevail with her 
to speak of herself; if she did, it was with the greatest diffi- 
dence and caution. 

In the last two or three weeks of her life, she became 
acquainted with acute pain, to which she had till then been 
much a stranger. Her gentle spirit, which had borne up 
under a long and languishing illness, was not so capable 
of supporting pain. It did not occasion any improper tem- 
per of language, but it wore her away apace. Friday, 
the 30th of September, she was down stairs for the last 
time, and then she was brought down and carried up in my 
arms. 

It now became very desirable to hear from herself a 
more explicit account of the hope that was in her ; espe- 
cially as upon some symptoms of an approaching mortifi- 
cation, she appeared to be a little alarmed, and of course 
not thoroughly reconciled to the thoughts of death. Her 
aunt waited for the first convenient opportunity of intimat- 
ing to her the probability that the time of her departure was 
at hand. The next morning, Saturday, the first of October, 
presented one. She found herself remarkably better : her 
pains were almost gone ; her spirits revived : the favorable 
change was visible in her countenance. 

Her aunt began to break the subject to her, by saying, 
" My dear, were you not extremely ill last night ?" 

She answered, " Indeed I was." 
" Had you not been relieved, I think you could not have 
continued long." 

" I believe I could not." 

" My dear, I have been very anxiously concerned for 
your life." 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. XI 

"But I hope, my dear aunt, you are not so now." 

She then opened her mind, and spoke freely. I cannot 
repeat the whole. The substance was to this effect. 

" My views of things have been, for some time, very 
different from what they were when I came to you. I have 
seen and felt the vanity of childhood and youth." 

Her aunt said, " I believe you have long made con- 
science of secret prayer." 

She answered, " Yes, I have long and earnestly sought 
the Lord, with reference to the change that is now ap- 
proaching. I have not that full assurance which is so de- 
sirable ; but I have a hope, I trust a good hope ; and I be- 
lieve the Lord will give me what^er he sees necessary for 
me before he is pleased to take me hence." She then said, 
"I have prayed to him to fit me for himself; and then, 
whether it be sooner or later, it signifies but little." 

Here was a comfortable point gained. We were satis- 
fied that she had given up all expectations of living, and 
could speak of her departure without being distressed. 

It will not be expected that a child of her age should 
speak systematically. Nor had she learned her religion 
from a system or form of words, however sound. The 
Lord himself was her teacher. But from what little she 
had at different times said to me, I was well satisfied that 
she had received a true conviction of the nature of sin, and 
of her own state by nature as a sinner. When she spoke 
of the Lord, she meant the Lord Jesus Christ, the great 
Shepherd, who gathers such lambs in his arms, and carries 
them in his bosom. She believed him to be God and man 
in one person ; and that hope of which she was not ashamed, 
was founded on his atonement, grace, and power. As I do 
not intend to put words into her mouth which she never 
spoke, I mention this, lest any should be disappointed at not 



12 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

finding a certain phraseology to which they have been ac- 
customed. 

Her apparent rcTival was of short duration. In the 
evening of the same day, she complained of a sore throat, 
which became worse, and by Sabbath noon threatened suf- 
focation. When Dr. Benamor, who the day before had 
almost entertained hopes of her recovery, found her so sud- 
denly and greatly altered, he could not, at the moment, pre- 
vent some signs of concern from appearing in his counte- 
nance. She quickly perceived it, and desired he would 
plainly tell her his sentiments. 

When he had recovered himself, he said, " My dear, 
you are not so well as when I saw you on Saturday." 

She answered, that she trusted all would be Avell soon. 

He replied, that whether she lived or died it would be 
well, and to the glory of God. He told me that he had 
much pleasing conversation with her that morning, some 
particulars of which he had committed to writing, but that 
he had lost the paper. From that time she may be said to 
have been dying, as we expected her departure from one 
hour to another. 

On Monday, October 3d, she was almost free from any 
complaint in the throat ; but there was again an appearance 
of a mortification in her legs ; it was, however, again re- 
pelled by the means which Dr. Benamor prescribed. 

I recollect but little of the incidents of this day : in 
general she was in great pain, sometimes in agonies, unable 
to remain many minutes in the same position ; but her 
mind was peaceful. She possessed a spirit of recollection 
and prayer ; and her chief attention to earthly things was 
confined to the concern she saw in those around her. That 
she might not increase their distress, she strove to conceal 
the sense of her sufferings. It pleased the Lord wonder- 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 23 

fully to support my dear Mrs. Newton, and she had a tol- 
erable night's rest, though I did not expect the child would 
live till morning. 

On Tuesday, the 4th, about nine in the morning, we all 
thought her dying, and waited nearly two hours by her bed- 
side, for her last breath. She was much convulsed, and in 
great agonies. 

I said, " My dear, you are going to heaven ; and I hope, 
by the grace of God, we shall in due time follow you." 

She could not speak, but let us know by a gentle nod 
of her head, and a sweet smile, that she attended to what I 
said. 

I repeated to her many passages of Scripture and verses 
of hymns, to each of which she made the same kind of 
answer. Though silent, her looks were more expressive 
than words. 

Towards eleven o'clock, a great quantity of coagulated 
phlegm, which she had not strength to bring up, made her 
rattle violently in the throat, which we considered as a sign 
that death was at hand : and as she seemed unwillino; to 
take something that was offered to her, we were loath to 
disturb her in her last moments, (as we supposed,) by press- 
ing her. I think she must have died in a quarter of an 
hour, had not Dr. Benamor just then come into the room. 

He felt her pulse, and observed that she was not near 
death by her pulse, and desired that something might be 
given her. She was perfectly sensible, though still unable 
to speak, but expressed her unwillingness to take any thing, 
by her strongest efforts. However, she yielded to entreaty, 
and a teaspoonful or two of some liquid soon cleared the 
passage, and she revived. Her pain, however, was extreme, 
and her disappointment great. I never saw her so near im- 
patience as on this occasion. As soon as she could speak, 



14 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

she cried, " O cruel, cruel, cruel, to recall me, when I was 
so happy, and so near gone ! I wish you had not come — I 
long to go home." But in a fe^v minutes she grew com- 
posed, assented to what the doctor said of her duty to waif 
the Lord's time ; and from that hour, though her desires 
to depart and to be with her Saviour were stronger and 
stronger, she cheerfully took whatever was offered to her, 
and frequently asked for something, of her own accord. 

How often, were we to have our choice, should we 
counteract our own prayers ! I had entreated the Lord to 
prolong her life, till she could leave an indisputable testi- 
mony behind her for our comfort: yet when I saw her 
agony, and heard her say, O how cruel to stop me ! I was 
for a moment almost of her mind, and could hardly help 
wishing that the doctor had delayed his visit a little longer. 
But if she had died then, we should have been deprived of 
what we saw and heard the two following days ; the re- 
membrance of which is now much more precious to me than 
silver or gold. 

When the doctor came on Wednesday, she entreated 
him to tell her how long he thought she might live. 

He said, " Are you in earnest, my dear ?" 

She answered, '- Indeed I am." 

At that time there were very great appearances that a 
mortification was actually begun. He therefore told her, 
he thought it possible she might hold out till eight in the 
evening, but did not expect she could survive midnight at 
farthest. On hearing him say so, low as she was, her eyes 
seemed to sparkle with their former vivacity; and fixing 
them on him with an air of inefTable satisfaction, she said, 
" Oh, that is good news indeed." And she repeated it as 
such to a person who came soon afler into the room, and 
said, with lively emotions of joy, '• The doctor tells me I 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. J5 

shall stay here but a few hours longer." In the afternoon she 
noticed and counted the clock, I believe every time it struck ; 
and when it struck seven, she said, " Another hour, and 
then." But it pleased the Lord to spare her to us another day. 

She suffered much in the course of Wednesday night, 
but w^as quite resigned and patient. Our kind servants, 
who, from their love to her and to us, watched her day and 
night with a solicitude and tenderness which wealth is too 
poor to purchase, were the only witnesses of the affectionate 
and grateful manner in which she repeatedly thanked them 
for their services and attention to her. Though such an 
acknowledgment was no more than due, yet coming from 
herself, and at such a time, they highly valued it. She 
added her earnest prayers that the Lord would reward 
them. To her prayers my heart says. Amen. May they 
be comforted of the Lord in their dying hours, as she was, 
and meet with equal kindness from those around them ! 

I was surprised on Thursday morning to find her not 
only alive, but in some respects better. The tokens of 
mortification again disappeared. This was her last day, 
and it was a memorable day with us. When Dr. Benamor 
asked her how she did, 

" Truly happy," said she, " and if this be dying, it is a 
pleasant thing to die." (The very expression which a dear 
friend of mine used upon her death-bed a few years ago.) 

She said to me, about ten o'clock, " My dear uncle, I 
would not change conditions with any person upon earth : 
O, how gracious is the Lord to me ! Oh, what a change is 
before me !" She was several times asked if she could wish 
to live, provided the Lord would restore her to perfect 
health ; her answer was, " Not for all the world ;" and 
sometimes, " Not for a thousand worlds." 

The last time she was asked this question, she said, as 



IQ NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUXXIXGHAM. 

I have been since informed, " I desire to have no choice." 
" Do not weep for me," said she, " my dear aunt, but rather 
rejoice and praise on my .account." 

We asked her if she would choose a text for her own 
funeral sermon. 

She readily mentioned, " Whom the Lord loveth he 
chasteneth." " That," said she, " has been my experience ; 
my afflictions have been many, but not one too many ; nor 
has the greatest of them all been too great ; I praise him 
for them all." But after a pause, she said, "Stay, 1 think 
there is another text which may do better; let it be, 
* Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ;' that is my 
experience now." She likewise chose a hymn to be sung 
after the sermon. 

" In vain my fancy strives to paint 
The moment after death ; 
The glories that surround a saint 
When yielding up his breath. 

One gentle sigh his fetters breaks, 
We scarce can say, ' He's gone !' 

Before the willing spirit takes 
Its mansion near the throne. 

Faith strives, but all its efforts fail, 

To trace the spirit's flight ; 
No eye can pierce within the vail 

Which hides the world of light. 

Thus much (and this is all) we knoAv, 

Saints are completely blest ; 
Have done with sin, and care, and woe, 

And with their Saviour rest : 

On harps of gold they praise his name, 

His face they always view ; 
Then let us followers be of them, 

That we may praise him too." 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 17 

But I must check myself, and set down but a small part 
of the gracious words w^hich the Lord enabled her to speak 
in the course of the day, though she was frequently inter- 
rupted by pains and agonies. 

She had something to say, either in a way of admonition 
or consolation, as she thought most suitable, to every one 
she saw. 

To her most constant attendant she said, •' Be sure you 
continue to call on the Lord ; and if you think he does not 
hear you now, he will at last, as he has heard me." 

She spoke a great deal to an intimate friend, who was 
with her every day, which 1 hope she will long remember, 
as the testimony of her dying Eliza. Among other things, 
she said, " See how comfortable the Lord can make a dying 
bed ! Do you think that you shall have such an assurance 
when you come to die ?" 

Being answered, "I hope so, my dear;" she replied, 

" But do you earnestly, and with all your heart, pray to 
the Lord for it ? If you seek him, you shall surely find 
him." She then prayed affectionately and fervently for her 
friend, afterwards for her cousin, and then for another of 
our family who was present. Her prayer was not long, 
but every word was weighty, and her manner was very 
affecting. The purport was, that they might all be taught 
and comforted by the Lord. 

About five in the afternoon, she desired me to pray with 
her once more. Surely I then prayed from my heart. 

When I had finished, she said, " Amen." 

I said, " My dear child, have I expressed your meaning ?" 

She answered, " O, yes !" and then added, " I am ready 
to say. Why are his chariot wheels so long in coming ? But 
I hope he will enable me to wait his hour with patience." 

These were the last words I heard her speak. 



VOL. III. 



16 



18 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

Mrs. Newton's heart was much, perhaps too much, at- 
tached to this dear cliild ; which is not to be wondered at, 
considering what sort of a child she was, and how lolig and 
how much she had suffered. But the Lord was pleased 
graciously to support her in this trying season. Indeed, 
there was more cause for joy than for grief; yet the pain of 
separation will be felt. Eliza well knew her feelings, and a 
concern for her was, I believe, the last anxiety that remained 
with her. She said to those about her, " Try to persuade 
my aunt to leave the room ; I think I shall soon go to 
sleep; I shall not remain with you till the morning." 
Her aunt, however, was the last person who heard her 
speak, and was sitting by her bed when she went away. 

A little after six, hearing that a relation who dearly 
loved her, and was beloved by her, who had come daily 
from Westminster to see her, was below stairs, she said, 
" Raise me up, that I may speak to him once more." 

Her aunt said, " My dear, you are nearly exhausted, I 
think you had better not attempt it." 

She smiled, and said, " It is very well, I will not." 

She was then within half an hour of her translation to 
glory ; but the love of her dear Lord had so filled her with 
benevolence, that she was ready to exert herself to her last 
breath, in hope of saying something that might be useful to 
others after she was gone. 

Towards seven o'clock, I was walking in the garden, 
and earnestly engaged in prayer for her, when a servant 
came to me and said, " She is gone." O Lord, how great 
is thy power ! how great is thy goodness ! A few days 
before, had it been practicable and lawful, what would I 
not have given to procure her recovery ? Yet seldom in 
my life have I known a more heartfelt joy than when these 
words. She is gone, sounded in my ears. I ran up stairs. 



NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. I9 

and our whole little family was soon around her bed. 
Though her aunt and another person were sitting with their 
eyes fixed upon her, she was gone perhaps a few minutes 
before she was missed. She lay upon her left side, with 
her cheek gently reclining upon her hand, as if in a sweet 
sleep ; and I thought there was a smile upon her counte- 
nance. Never, surely, did death appear in a more beauti- 
ful, inviting form. We fell upon our knees, and I returned, 
I think I may say, my most unfeigned thanks to our God 
and Saviour, for his abundant goodness to her, crowned in 
this last instance, by giving her so gentle a dismission. 
Yes, I am satisfied ; I am comforted. And if one of the 
many involuntary tears I have shed, could have recalled her 
to life, to health, to an assemblage of all that this world could 
contribute to her happiness, I would have labored hard to 
suppress it. Now my largest desires for her are accom- 
plished. The days of her mourning are ended. She is 
landed on that peaceful shore where the storms of trouble 
never blow. She is for ever out of the reach of sorrow, sin, 
temptation, and snares. Now is she before the throne ; she 
sees Him, whom not having seen, she loved ; she drinks of 
the rivers of pleasure which are at his right hand, and shall 
thirst no more. 

She was born February 6, 1771. 

She breathed her spirit into her Redeemer's hands a 
little before seven in the evening, on October 6, 1785, 
aged fourteen years and eight months. 

T shall be glad if this little narrative may prove an en- 
couragement to Christians who have children. May we 
not conceive the Lord saying to us, as Pharaoh's daughter 
said to the mother of Moses, " Take this child, and bring it 
up for me, and I will pay thee thy wages ?" How solemn 



20 NARRATIVE OF ELIZA CUNNINGHAM. 

the trust ! important and difficult the charge of it ! but how 
rich the reward, if our endeavors are crowned with success ! 
And we have every thing to hope from his power and good- 
ness, if, in dependence upon his blessing, we can fully and 
diligently aim at fulfilling his will. Happy they, who shall 
say at the last day, " Behold, here am I, and the children 
which thou hast given me f" 

Many children will likewise see this narrative. May it 
convince them that it is practicable and good to seek the 
Lord betimes ! My dear Eliza's state of languor prevented 
her from associating with young people of her own age so 
frequently and freely as she might otherwise have done. 
But these papers will come into the hands of such. To 
them I particularly recommend and dedicate this relation. 
Oh, my dear young friends, had you seen with what dignity 
of spirit she filled up the last scene of her life, you must 
have been affected by it ! Let not the liveliness of your 
spirits, and the gayety of the prospect around you, prevent 
you from considering, that to you likewise, days will cer- 
tainly come, unless you are suddenly snatched out of life, 
when you will say and feel that the world, and all in it, can 
afford you no pleasure. But there is a Saviour, Jesus 
Christ, a Mighty One, always near, always gracious to 
those who seek him. May you, like her, be enabled to 
choose him as the Guide of your youth, and the Lord of 
your hearts. Then, like her, you will find support and 
comfort under affliction, wisdom to direct your conduct, a 
good hope in death, and by death a happy translation to 
everlasting life. 

I have only to add my prayers that a blessing from on 
liigh may descend upon the persons and families of all my 
friends, and upon all into whose hands this paper may prov- 
identially come. JOHN NEWTON. 



No. 84, 



ON 



THE LORD'S SUPPER 



BY E.EV HENP.Y GP.OVE 




And he said unto them. With desire I have desired to eat this pass- 
over with you before I suffer. — Luke 22 : 15. 

The principal design of the Lord's Supper is, to be a 
perpetual commemoration of the death of Christ. " This 
do in remembrance of me." " As often as ye eat this bread, 
and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he 
come." We have then no better way to acquire a proper 
notion of this ordinance, than by obtaining correct views of 

THE NATURE AND CIRCUMSTANCES OF ChRIST's DEATH. Not 

to dwell now on the death of Christ as he was the noblest 
martyr to the truth, or as our example, we remark, 

VOL. III. 16* 



2 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

1. The death of Christ is to be viewed as an exhiUtion 
of love. It is an observation of our Lord, that " greater love 
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his 
friends;" "but God commendeth his love towards us, in 
that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us," that 
we who had been enemies might be reconciled to God by 
the death of his Son. We see the greatness of this love, in 
the dignity of the person who suffered, and his nearness to 
God — he being the "only begotten Son, which is in the 
bosom of the Father:" in the greatness of the sufferings 
voluntarily submitted to by him — he suffered death, even 
the ignominious death of the cross : in the great unworthi- 
ness of those for whom he suffered — sinners and enemies to 
God by sin : and finally, in the greatness of the benefit which 
he procured — eternal life. 

To perpetuate the memory of his dying love, our Sav- 
iour instituted this Supper, to be observed until his second 
coming. Such a friend to souls ought never to be forgot- 
ten, and never will be, so long as there is a church on earth ; 
and we have reason to believe that this ordinance, which, 
like a pillar, bears his name inscribed upon it, will prove a 
principal means of preserving a lively memory of him. 
This, then, is one view which we are to take of the Lord's 
Supper : it is the means appointed to perpetuate the memory 
of Christ's dying love, and of the love of God, manifested in 
his death. And oh, let the remembrance of his death never 
perish ! Let our love, inflamed and strengthened by this 
holy ordinance, keep alive the memory of his. We deserve 
to be eternally forgotten of God, if we can forget our Re- 
deemer. 

But it is the commandment of God, " that he who loveth 
God, love his brother also." The same is Christ's "new 
commandment " to his disciples. " A new commandment I 
give unto you, That ye love one another : as I have loved 
you, that ye also love one another." We have all a better 



I 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 3 

claim to one another's love, than any of us can pretend to 
have had to the love of God. We shall prove ourselves 
doubly unworthy of his love, if we fail of making so reason- 
able a return for it, as that of brotherly affection. But how 
is our love for the brethren to show itself? In a readiness 
to bear their burdens, to relieve their necessities, and to dis- 
charge every other office of kindness to them ; nay, if occa- 
sion be, in laying down our lives for them. 

" Thy love, O my Saviour, constraineth me to all this, 
because I thus judge, that thou didst die for me, that I should 
not live to myself, but to thee. And what am I to under- 
stand by living to thee, but doing those things which will be 
most acceptable to thee, and most serviceable to thy cause 
in the world ? what, but my so living, that the world may 
receive some of those advantages from my example, which 
they would, in a much higher degree, from thine, if thyself 
wert upon earth : that thy Spirit, breathing and acting in 
me, may, in some little measure, supply thy personal ab- 
sence ?" 

2. The death of Christ is to be viewed as an expiatory 
sacrifice. We may here say, as did our Lord's forerunner, 
when he pointed him out to the Jews, " Behold the Lamb of 
God, which taketh away the sin of the world !" " But now 
once, in the end of the world, hath he appeared, to put away 
sin by the sacrifice of himself." " Who his own self bare 
our sins in his own body on the tree." Christ's death hav- 
ing thus the nature of an expiatory sacrifice, we may regard 
the Lord's Supper as a commemorative representation of 
this sacrifice, and as a feast upon it. 

The Lord's Supper is a commemorative representation of 
the sacrifice which Christ made of himself on the cross. This 
is the language of the institution itself. From that we learn, 
that " the bread we eat, is the body of Christ, which was 
given for us ; and that the cup we drink, is the blood of 
Christ, which was shed for us." The death of Christ was a 



4 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

propitiatory sacrifice ; and. as such, it is commemorated in 
the ordinance of the Supper. The Lord's Supper is a rep- 
resentation of this sacrifice — faint, indeed, but significant. 
Every time the believer receives the consecrated elements, 
he does, as it were, lay his hands upon the sacrifice repre- 
sented by them, and plead with God, in virtue of it, for par- 
don and acceptance ; thus uniting his prayers, and all that 
he does in the service of God, to the intercession of the great 
High Priest, who is passed into the heavens. 

There are two things which we are especially taught by 
the representation of Christ's sacrifice in the Supper : the 
great evil of sin, and the willingness of God to pardon it. 
We see the evil of sin in the sufTerings of other men, and 
feel it in our own ; but all the infelicities of human life, and 
death reigning from Adam to the last of his posterity, do not 
afford so convincing and affecting an evidence of the evil of 
sin, as do the sufferings and death of the Son of God. 

" Must he, who is styled the Son of God, to denote his 
dignity, and the Lamb of God, to signify his innocence, die 
to expiate the guilt of sin ? How enormous must be that 
guilt ! And why am I to take occasion, from the dreadful 
sufferings of my Saviour, to reflect on the evil of sin, but 
that I may be excited to hate it, and to resolve and watch 
against it ? Such, I am sensible, is the end designed. I do 
therefore renounce all league and friendship with sin, and, 
out of love to Jesus, resolve to seek its utter destruction. 
Great is my encouragement to do this ; for, in the ordinance 
before me, I find the strongest proof that God is ready to 
forgive all sin. Christ died as a sacrifice. If the sacrifice 
was not accepted, why is this perpetual memorial of it ? If 
it was insufficient, why is there not a repetition of the sacri- 
fice itself, instead of its representation ? Without contro- 
versy, God is in Christ reconciling the world to himself, and 
is actually reconciled to all that repent and believe." 

The Lord's Supper is a feast upon a sacrifice. It is called 



' ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 5 

a feast, in allusion to the Jewish Passover ; " for even Christ 
our Passover is sacrificed for us." As the Jews feasted 
upon the paschal lamb, after it had first been presented to 
God, so do we, sacramentally and by faith, upon Christ. 
This view of the ordinance suggests several things of im- 
portance. 

As a feast, it is expressive of the communion of saints. 
Eating and drinking together was ever reckoned among the 
ancients a mark of friendship, and a means of perpetuating 
it • especially if a feast was prepared for this very end : for, 
as one observes, it amounted to a mutual promise of the par- 
ties to live together in peace and unity. Of all the external 
aids to Christian love, there is none of such efficacy as the 
holy communion. It is recorded of the primitive disciples, 
that " they continued steadfastly in the apostles' doctrine and 
fellowship, and in breaking of bread." " And the multitude 
of them that believed were of one heart, and of one soul." 
If they who are of the same family, and eat at the same 
table, cannot live together in friendship, their temper must 
be unhappy indeed. If they who, by joining in the same 
ordinances, and receiving the same Spirit, are incorporated 
into one mystical body, and united to one head, cannot main- 
tain a tolerable harmony among themselves, we should never 
wonder at dissension among others. 

The Lord's Supper being a feast upon a sacrifice, we 
have fellowship in it with the Father, and with his Son Jesus 
Christ. The temple, under the law, was the house of God ; 
the altar, his table ; and the sacrifices brought to be offered 
there, no longer the offerer's, but the provisions of God's 
house ; and were therefore called the bread of God. When 
the offerer was allowed to partake of his own sacrifice, he 
was to look upon himself as God's guest. And is not every 
Christian church, in some sense, the Lord's house ? Is not 
the communion table, the table of the Lord ? and what is 
provided, the "Lord's Supper?" 



6 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

" Thinkj then, O my soul, of the honor to which thou 
art raised ; that the Lord Jesus is Master of the feast, and 
that God himself vouchsafes his presence, and bids every 
worthy receiver welcome to the entertainments of his house ! 
This is something more than to be a guest at the table of the 
greatest person upon earth. Thou art as truly the guest of 
God, though not entertained with the same magnificence, as 
they are whom he hath advanced to dwell in his heavenly 
palace." 

Since such is the nature of this ordinance, that the 
" bread which we break, is the communion of the body of 
Christ ; and the cup of blessing which we bless, is the com- 
munion of the blood of Christ;" what manner of persons 
ought communicants to be, in all purity of heart and life, 
who are received into immediate converse with the holy 
God, and with his Son Jesus Christ, the image of his holi- 
ness ! "What communion hath light with darkness ?" "If 
we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in dark- 
ness, we lie, and do not the truth ; but if we walk in the 
light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with 
another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us 
from all sin." 

The Lord's Supper being a feast upon a sacrifice, we 
should consider it as a solemn form of renewing our covenant 
with God, and as a means of our participating in the blessings 
of the covenant. The book of the law, containing the prom- 
ises of God to Israel, and the terms on which they would be 
fulfilled, is, on this account, called " the book of the cove- 
nant." When this book was read in the hearing of the peo- 
ple, who promised, " All that the Lord hath said will we do, 
and be obedient," beasts were offered in sacrifice, and their 
blood was sprinkled upon the people, to denote the solemn 
ratification of God's covenant with them. This blood was 
denominated the blood of the covenant. In like manner, the 
Gospel being God's new covenant with all those who believe 



' ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 7 

in Jesus, the New Testament, in which the Gospel is record- 
ed, may very properly be styled " the book of the covenant." 
The blood of Christ, by which this covenant was confirmed, 
is expressly called " the blood of the covenant." The cove- 
nant of grace has respect to the sacrifice of the cross, as its 
foundation. And since, in the Lord's Supper, we both sac- 
ramentally and spiritually partake of this sacrifice, it natu- 
rally suggests the thought of renewing our covenant with 
God, and the dedication of ourselves to him. 

The first time of our approaching the Lord's table may, 
on some accounts, be deemed the most solemn ; as we then 
first communicate in the memorials of our Saviour's body 
and blood ; and, by these sacred symbols, confirm and 
solemnize our dedication to God ; but we renew this dedi- 
cation or covenant every time we receive the holy com- 
munion. 

The soul by faith may hear God speaking to it, in some 
such manner as this : " Come hither, O thou whom I love ! 
I do here promise, upon the body and blood of my Son, to 
be thy God, to do for thee whatever is implied in this rela- 
tion : let this body and blood be witness between me and 
thee, for the performance of my promise." 

" With all humility and grateful joy," replies the soul, 
"do I accept thy offer, O most merciful God, and, on the 
same pledges, I promise to be thine. Taking thee, O Father 
Almiglity, for my God, my Father, and my everlasting por- 
tion ; thee, O Son of God, for my all-sufficient Redeemer 
and advocate ; and thee, O blessed Spirit, for my sanctifier 
and guide, my helper and comforter : 1 would ' present my- 
self a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is my 
reasonable service.' I take the precepts of the Gospel for 
the rule of my actions, and rely on its promises as the 
immovable foundation of my hopes. I resign myself to thy 
disposal, acknowledge myself bound to live to thy glory, 
and promise, by thy grace assisting me, to be obedient and 



8 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

faithful unto death. This is not the first time I have thus 
covenanted, but now I cheerfully renew the engagement, 
being sensible that I cannot be bound too fast. I have con- 
tinual fear of breaking away and being driven far off from 
thee. I do therefore, again, upon the body and blood of Christ 
swear to be obedient and faithful. Lord ! thou art witness 
to my oath, be thou my help." 

Can any thing be more solemn and binding than a cove- 
nant so transacted ? 

It follows, that the Lord's Supper is a means of our par- 
ticipating in the benefits of the covenant : such as peace of 
conscience, joy in the Holy Ghost, strength of grace, and 
more overflowing hopes of future blessedness. No ordinance 
is better fitted to kindle devout affections than this; in which 
we have the Prince of life crucified before our eyes, suffer- 
ing, bleeding, groaning, and dying, to save us and destroy 
sin. Such a representation is fitted to excite all the tender 
emotions of the heart, and, at the same time, to engage the 
concurrence of the understanding. Our affections can never 
be so highly excited by this ordinance, that our reason will 
not approve it. It may be added, that receiving the sacra- 
ment being, with the sincere Christian, an act of obedience 
and love, both to God and the Saviour, he may warrantably 
expect a reward. He communes because he delights in 
performing his duty : and will not God bestow some marks 
of his special favor upon his willing servant ? 

" Surely, O my soul, this eating and drinking were not 
ordained to be an empty ceremony ! The thing signified, 
is thy feeding by faith on the body and blood of Christ. 
This thou doest indeed at other times, but more particularly 
now, when thy faith in a crucifi'id Saviour is exercised in 
view of the memorials of his death. He that gave him- 
self for thee on the cross, and who now offers himself to 
thee in the ordinance of the Supper, can withhold nothing 
from thee." 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 9 

Does not the very occasion seem to justify our expecta- 
tion of partaking in "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the 
love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost ?" What 
time so proper to receive these blessings, as when we are 
receiving the pledges of them, and renewing his covenant in 
which they are promised ? Where should our King bestow the 
gifts which he has received for men, if not at his own table ? 

3. The death of Christ is to be viewed as a victory over 
death. "Forasmuch, then, as the children are partakers 
of flesh and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the 
same ; that through death he might destroy him that had the 
power of death, that is, the devil." The wisdom of God is 
remarkably seen, in defeating the malice of wicked men and 
apostate spirits by the very means which they employ to 
bring to pass their evil devices. How great was Satan's 
triumph, when, having put it into the heart of Judas to betray 
Christ, and pushed on the Jews and Romans to crucify him, 
he saw the dreadful deed accomplished ! Little did he 
imagine that his success, in this instance, would prove the 
fatal blow to his empire. Christ had overcome the devil in 
"the wilderness;" but on the cross his victory was rendered 
more complete, by the influence of his death to destroy sin, 
and to abolish death, the effect of sin. 

Many have conquered at their death ; but here is one 
who conquered ly dying — not a common enemy, but the 
universal and last enemy of mankind, even death itself! He 
was born that he might die, and he died to rise again. "It 
is appointed unto men once to die;" but Christ died to 
destroy that death which passeth upon all men, by obtaining 
a resurrection for all men ; and for all that do good, a resur- 
rection to life eternal. Let us then think of our dying Lord, 
when we show his death in the Supper, as vanquishing, not 
as vanquished. Let his death be considered as the purchase 
of our immortality, and his resurrection as the pledge and 
assurance of it. 

VOL. III. 17 



10 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

" Why should I fear to die ? Hath not my Saviour 
tasted of the same bitter cup ? And was not his death soon 
followed by his resurrection ? In like manner, though I die, 
I shall live again, because Christ liveth. I have the same 
certainty that I shall rise in the last day, as I have that my 
Redeemer is already risen ; and that I shall rise to dwell 
with him hereafter, as that I live and die to him now. While, 
therefore, I commemorate the death of my Redeemer, I will 
celebrate his conquest over death, and comfort myself with 
the prospect of the triumph of all his members over it at the 
last day. ' O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is 
thy victory ? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of 
sin is the law ; but thanks be to God, who giveth us the 
victory through Jesus Christ our Lord.' " 

We may consider the death of Christ as the ground of 
his exaltation. Because " he humbled himself and became 
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross," therefore 
" God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name 
which is above every name : that at the name of Jesus every 
knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, 
and things under the earth ; and that every tongue should 
confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the 
Father." The world is subjected to his authority; and all 
must acknowledge it, by a voluntary obedience. 

From the humiliation of Christ, which is the thing first 
presented to us in the memorials of his death, let us pass, 
in our thoughts, to the exaltation that followed. He first 
suffered, and then entered into glory. I am hence taught, 
that I am to gain the favor of God, not by extolling the 
obedience and resignation of his Son, while I indulge a fret- 
ful and repining temper : not by trusting to Christ's right- 
eousness, while I am without the love of righteousness, and 
a stranger to its practice. I may not indulge the thought, 
that I can rise otherwise than my Saviour did : that without 
imitating him in his hatred of iniquity, I can receive the 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. H 

same marks of his favor as they who do thus imitate him : 
that a part of the glory obtained by his obedience, can 
descend on one who is wilfully disobedient. Let these con- 
siderations teach me the necessity of holiness, and animate 
my endeavors to acquire the highest measure of it ; for in 
the same degree as I approach my Saviour in holiness now, 
I shall approach him in glory hereafter. 

4. The death of Christ is to be viewed in its relation to 
his second appearance. "As often as ye eat this bread and 
drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he co?ne." 
As " he was once offered to bear the sins of many ;" so, 
" unto them that look for him, shall he appear the second 
time without sin unto salvation." We believe that Christ 
died ; and to publish this belief, we show his death in this 
ordinance. We also believe that he rose from the dead, 
ascended to heaven, and that he will thence descend, in the 
same manner as he ascended : to testify this belief, we show 
his death till he come. The ordinance has a double aspect. 
It is both a thankful commemoration of our Saviour's death, 
and a joyful pledge of his second advent. In view of this 
advent, every friend of Christ should be ready to exclaim, 
in the ecstasy of his soul, " ' Come, Lord Jesus, come quick- 
ly.' In this mystery I see thee darkly as through a glass : 
O when shall I behold thee, face to face ? When will this 
Sun of righteousness break through every intervening cloud, 
that I may see him in all his glory ? These indistinct and 
distant views are refreshing ; how great, then, will be the 
pleasure of being ' absent from the body, and present with the 
Lord !' when I shall put on my glorified body, and with many 
thousand times ten thousand of his saints, that have lived 
upon earth, shall ascend to meet him in the air ; when I shall 
be publicly absolved and acknowledged by him, and by him 
presented holy and without blame to God, even our Father ! 
What will be my transports, when I shall see my Saviour 
arrayed in majesty and love, and fall worshipping at his feet !" 



12 ON THE LORD'S SUFFER. 

Did this sacred ordinance only lead us back to the death 
of Christ, it would afford but a melancholy entertainment. 
We should have no object before us but such as would feed 
our sorrow. But, blessed be God, it carries our thoughts, 
from the death of Christ, forward to the day when he will 
be revealed in the glory of his Father, and of his holy angels. 
Thine eye, O Christian, shall behold him ; thine, and not 
another's ! Thy Saviour died, but he has not ceased to be ; 
he ever liveth to govern the world, and intercede for his 
church — he is gone, but he will return again. 

" Is it really so, that I love the appearance of Christ, 
and am persuaded that what the Scriptures say concerning 
the circumstances and consequences of his appearance, will 
certainly take place ? What manner of person ought I to 
be ! Is it one end of my partaking of the Lord's Supper, 
to declare my belief of Christ's coming to judge the world 
and to be glorified in his saints ? This should remind me 
to prepare for his coming, to live with a constant regard to 
the great day, that I may be able to give up my account 
with joy. Let me watch, for I know not the hour when 
my Lord will come. Let me never forget, that such as I 
am at the time of my death, I shall be found in judgment ; 
and that I shall probably die as I have lived." 

These thoughts suggest some practical reflections. 

1. The principal use of the Lord's Supper is, to promote 
true godliness in the hearts and lives of believers. This is 
the noblest end that can be accomplished in believers ; being 
inseparably connected with the honor of God and their own 
felicity. Perhaps no one ordinance advances this end so 
effectually, as the Lord's Supper. It not only puts us in 
mind of our duty, but also presents us powerful motives to 
its performance. The allurements of example, the demands 
of love, the amiableness of the divine character, the rewards 
of holiness, and the punishment of sin, are all presented in 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER 13 

this one ordinance. It exhibits a summary of the helps 
which God has afforded us in our way to heaven. Whoever 
does not take this view of it, but rests in the present action 
merely, is greatly deceived. We cannot too carefully avoid 
splitting on this rock. Partaking of the Lord's Supper is, 
after all, no more than a means of promoting our piety ; 
and not to be compared with the power of Christianity in 
the heart, and the substantial virtues of a good life. These 
are of indispensable necessity and eternal excellence. 

We are hence enabled to ascertain what characters have 
a right to come to the Lord's table. He who has in some 
measure attained to that temper and conduct which this 
ordinance was intended to advance, possesses the qualifica- 
tions of a worthy communicant. He has faith, and hope, 
and charity ; he is humble and penitent ; loves his Saviour 
supremely ; makes conscience of every known duty, and 
flies every known sin. He is not indeed perfect in these 
respects, but he should not therefore abstain from the Lord's 
Supper ; since, by devoutly partaking of it, he may hope to 
gain assistance in going on to perfection. 

But perhaps there are some who think more is requisite ; 
who view the consequence of communing unworthily, as 
being so dreadful, that nothing short of an uncommon degree 
of piety, or, at least, an assurance of our being truly pious, 
will justify our coming to the Lord's table. But if true 
piety, and not any particular degree of it, is the condition 
of salvation, it is unreasonable to suppose that something 
further is required to commemorate the death of our Saviour. 
If all who are not absolutely assured of their piety were to 
absent themselves from the supper, very few would partake 
of it. Let us not indulge unnecessary fears. Nothing, 
either in the nature or the design of this ordinance, need 
deter any real Christian from complying with the command 
to celebrate it. On the contrary, every thing invites his 
compliance ; its nature being that of a religious feast, and 

VOL. III. 17^ 



14 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

its design, to preserve the memory of a Friend and Bene- 
factor. 

The passage in the eleventh chapter of the first epistle 
to the Corinthians, which has given birth to so many fears 
on this subject, was directed against those who partook of 
the Lord's Supper in a manner so irreverent, that they might 
very well be said " not to discern the Lord's body." They 
did not even observe that decorum and sobriety at the Lord's 
table, which become Christians at their own. The apostle 
does indeed say, that he " that eateth and drinketh unwor- 
thily, eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discern- 
ing the Lord's body ;" but let the apostle himself inform us, 
what he means by eating and drinking unworthily, and by the 
damnation thus incurred. The irregularities which occa- 
sioned this part of the epistle, will explain the former ; and 
the evils inflicted in consequence of these irregularities, the 
latter. " For this cause," says the apostle, " many among 
you are weak and sickly, and many sleep." It seems, 
then, that bodily disorders, sickness, and death, were the 
damnation or judgment to which he referred, and that it 
was not future and eternal punishment. It is added, that they 
"were judged or chastened of the Lord, that they might 
not be condemned with the world." Their being "guilty 
of the body and blood of the Lord," therefore, means their 
showing such disrespect to the ordinance of Christ's body 
and blood, as would expose them to the effects of God's 
displeasure. 

2. From what has been said, we may be enabled to 
satisfy ourselves respecting the preparation necessary to 
every particular communion. Do I possess a disposition of 
mind proper for this sacred action ? Have I clean hands 
and a pure heart? Am I laboring under no disorders of 
body or mind, which incapacitate me for attending upon this 
ordinance without distraction 1 I ought not, then, to neglect 
any present opportunity to celebrate it. I may not, perhaps. 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 15 

have spent the usual time in preparatory exercises of devo- 
tion ; but if it has been through no fault of mine — if I find 
myself, notwithstanding, so much disposed for the ordinary 
worship of God, as to be able to compose my thoughts and 
to raise my affections to him, I am not to suppose myself 
forbidden to approach the Lord's table. 

Do I find much time required to empty my heart of 
worldly affections ? I have reason to fear that I love the 
world inordinately, or am too much involved in its cares. I 
must renounce that attachment to the world which renders 
it difficult for me to retire and converse with God. I must 
cultivate an habitually pious frame of mind, so that I may 
not be obliged to have recourse to certain extraordinary acts 
of meditation, prayer, and humiliation, at the approach of 
every communion ; and to lay upon them the main stress 
of my preparation at least, if not of my religion. They 
who do so, ought to inquire, whether there is not something 
of superstition in this, which adds neither to the comfort nor 
the credit of their religion. 

It is by no means my desire to discourage due prepara- 
tion for celebrating this ordinance : on the contrary, I shall 
offer a few thinirs to assist communicants in makino- such 
preparation. 

They who expect to approach the Lord's table, should 
particularly examine whether, in respect to the habitual 
temper of their minds, and tenor of their lives, they go 
backward or forward in religion. They should be thank- 
ful for every victory they may have been enabled to gain 
over themselves and the world, for any progress they have 
made in the divine life. They should, at the same time, 
humble themselves for their many defects ; that their con- 
duct has been no more conformed to the example and pre- 
cepts of Christ ; that they are no more steadily and power- 
fully influenced by his love. They should inquire, whether 
there be not some part of their practice which neither agrees 



X6 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

with the rules of their Christian profession, nor with other 
parts of their character ; whether they have not lived in 
some hurtful indulgence, or neglected some spiritual gift. 
" In all things" must they strive "to adorn the doctrine of 
God our Saviour." 

They should especially select those subjects for medita- 
tion, which tend most to weaken their attachment to the 
woild ; to unite their hearts to God and his Son Jesus Christ ; 
and to elevate their views of the character, the necessity, 
the beauty, and the advantages of true religion : subjects 
which will warm their hearts with gratitude and zeal, render 
sin more hateful, and perfection in holiness more desirable. 
Such meditations will have the happiest tendency to awaken 
their minds when drowsy, and to cheer them when drooping; 
by which means they will approach the Lord's table with 
equal care and satisfaction. 

3. The preceding thoughts may inform us what it is to 
commune worthily. As they are the most worthy communi- 
cants who have most of Christ's spirit within them, so that 
is the most worthy manner of communing which flows most 
from his Spirit. It consists not so much in rapturous flights 
of the imagination, and strong workings of the passions, as 
in a clear discernment of the spiritual import of the ordi- 
nance, and a lively sense of the benefits resulting from it. 
Am I affected by the representation of Christ's sufferings 
much in the same manner as I am by the recital of a sad 
story ? Does the impression wear away like that of a tale 
that is told ? However much I may flatter myself, these are 
less the operations of grace than of nature. The Christian 
who is assisted by this ordinance to see the great evil of sin, 
and the love of Jesus in delivering him from it ; to feel the 
many motives it exhibits to holiness of heart and life, so as 
to have his pious resolutions established, his tenderness of 
conscience increased, and all his actions brought more un- 
der the influence of the doctrines and precepts of Christian- 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 17 

ity ; is he who communes most worthily, whether he has or 
has not the happiness of warm affections. 

Finally, ice are hence taught the advantage of frequent 
communions. The advantage is, that frequent communions 
promote our progress in the Christian life : the objection is, 
that the frequency of communions destroys their solemnity. 
But I apprehend that the objector deceives himself with a 
wrong notion of solemnity. Is it meant that communicants 
will npt approach the Supper with the same unaccountable 
awe and dread upon their minds ? What then, if they are 
but serious and devout ? We should think it very absurd 
for any to adopt the resolution, not to worship God in their 
families during the week, lest they should destroy the so- 
lemnity of his worship in his own house, and on his own 
day. The cases are not very dissimilar. An habitual seri- 
ousness and fervor of spirit, is, in the nature of things, to be 
expected from the frequent returns of holy duties, not from 
long intermissions of them ; and the more habitually serious 
we are, the better shall we be prepared to wait upon God in 
every ordinance. 

Having explained the nature and design of the Lord's 
Supper, and offered a few things by way of reflection, I 
would next turn your thoughts to the obligation of Chris- 
tians TO OBSERVE THIS ORDINANCE. 

1. Consider that the command is express : "This do in 
remembrance of me." The sacrifice of Christ being in- 
tended alike for the benefit of all ages, and the covenant it 
confirms extending to all, the institution of the Supper, which 
was designed to lead the thoughts of Christians to this sacri- 
fice, must equally respect all. Accordingly, the apostles 
were commanded to observe it in rememlrance of Christ, 
that is, after his death, thus to keep up the remembrance of 
him in the world. Paul says to the Corinthians, " As often 
as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the 



18 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

Lord's death till he come." But in what way could the 
disciples be said to show, or represent the death of Christ, in 
this ordinance, till his coming, if they only of the first ages 
were to observe it ? The words manifestly imply, that as 
Christ would always have a church on earth, so it would be 
the duty of its members to commemorate his death till he 
should appear the second time, and receive them to himself. 

The Gospel being divine, all its precepts come from 
God, are the result of his wisdom, and have the stamp of 
his authority. The language of voluntary disobedience to 
them is, "I regard neither the wisdom nor the authority of 
God." This language is as really implied in the violation 
of those precepts which respect the Lord's Supper, as of any 
other in the Gospel. 

It therefore becomes those who absent themselves from 
the Lord's table, to take this matter into serious considera- 
tion. Are they indeed careless about receiving the holy 
communion ? Do they go on, year after year, without once 
inquiring whether there be a command respecting it, or one 
which they are bound to observe ? Have they no solicitude 
to recommend themselves to God, by walking in all his 
statutes and ordinances blameless ? If this be not wilful 
disobedience, it has much of the same character and guilt. 
It cannot be supposed that any sincere Christian will pay so 
little respect to the commands of Jehovah. 

2. Consider the person who is the immediate Author of 
this command, and in memory of whom the Supper ivas insti- 
tuted. It is no other than Jesus Christ, our Lord and Sav- 
iour, one to whom we acknowledge ourselves infinitely in- 
debted, and for whom we profess to have the greatest regard. 
We have the greatest reason for this acknowledgment, for 
he has given the most extraordinary proofs of his concern 
for our happiness. Though he was " in the form of God, 
and thought it not robbery to be equal with God," yet, to 
procure our salvation, "he humbled himself, and became 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 19 

obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." As there 
never was sorrow like unto his sorrow, so there never was 
love like unto his love. Love demands love ; the love of 
the Redeemer demands the love of the redeemed. 

Hath Christ loved us and given himself to die for us ? 
And do we really love him ? We shall then be desirous of 
doing every thing necessary to prove the reality of our love, 
and the high sense we entertain of the unexampled greatness 
of his. Himself has said, " If ye love me, keep my com- 
mandments." Among these commandments is one which 
requires us to commemorate his death in the ordinance of 
the Supper : and what adds very much to our obligations to 
do this, is, that he is not only the author, but the object of 
this institution. It refers immediately to him, was appointed 
in honor of him, and is consecrated to his memory. This 
being the case, every friend of Christ must heartily approve 
of it, and strive to promote its observance. 

3. Consider the character of this institution. It is a dis- 
tinguished ordinance of the Gospel ; exceedingly intelligi- 
ble ; easy to be performed ; and greatly to our advantage. 

It is a distinguished ordinance of the Gospel. It is a 
permanent duty of every Christian society, a visible mark 
of our being Christ's disciples. Each communicant, in 
receiving the bread and wine, publicly avows Christ to be 
his Lord and Master, and glories in that cross which was 
" to the Jews a stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolish- 
ness." The language of his conduct is, " I own myself a 
disciple of Christ, I rejoice in being so, and am resolved to 
make his Gospel the rule of my actions." 

The celebration of the Lord's Supper being so consider- 
able a part of the worship of Christians, and one in which 
they declare themselves the disciples of Christ, how extra- 
ordinary is it, that any should have so little respect for this 
ordinance, as to live and die in the neglect of it ! Would 
not these same persons esteem a church or community of 



20 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

Christians very imperfect, where the Lord's Supper was 
never administered ? Are they not, then, very imperfect 
Christians, who, having constant opportunities of attending 
upon this Gospel institution, persevere in neglecting it? 
Surely, out of their own mouth will they be condemned. 

Another circumstance which renders the neglect of this 
ordinance more criminal, is, its being exceedingly intelligible. 
The Scriptures teach us, that it has the nature of a religious 
feast, and is observed in memory of Jesus Christ. We are, 
while eating th's bread and drinking this cup, to think of 
him, as bearing the punishment of our sins in his body on 
the cross, and shedding his blood for their remission. What 
the Scriptures thus teach respecting the relation which the 
Lord's Supper has to Christ, is easily understood. 

It is as easy for an ingenuous and devout mind to prac- 
tise this duty, as to understand the nature and design of it. 
The outward action is merely partaking of bread and wine, 
in memory of our best Friend. Is the command which 
required this so hard, that any Christian should find difficulty 
in complying with it ? Shall we deny Christ so small a 
thing as that of setting apart some time, that we may together 
celebrate his death by this rite ? He has not permitted the 
heavy yoke of Jewish ceremonies to come upon the neck of 
his disciples. In the place of these, the very number of 
which would have made them grievous, our Lord has sub- 
stituted but this one institution of a ceremonial nature, to be 
observed by us, after our admission into his church. This, 
in respect to the outward action, is so inconsiderable, that 
were it to return much oftener than it does in most societies, 
we might well submit to it, out of thankfulness for being 
delivered from the bondage of the former dispensation. It 
has, indeed, an inward as well as an outward part ; but the 
inward part consists of those exercises of devotion, which no 
pious person will consider unreasonable, since they are pro- 
ductive of the most rational delight. 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 21 

This ordinance is greatly to our advantage. It is as much 
our privilege as our duty to eat and drink at the Lord's table. 
I have already shown that this eating and drinking is ex- 
pressive of a great privilege enjoyed by the worthy com- 
municant : namely, the friendship of God, together with all 
the benefits which flow from it. Such a privilege must 
certainly- enhance our obligations both to receive the Lord's 
Supper, and to walk worthy of it afterwards. 

This ordinance is also of special advantage to promote 
a lively and devout remembrance of Christ, and by this 
means to invigorate our holy affections and assist our prog- 
ress in all virtue. That the remembrance of Christ by 
those who love him has naturally this effect, will not be 
questioned. Their love to Christ must be very much in- 
creased by the representation of his ; and the increase of 
their love be attended by greater desires to obey his will. 

Another circumstance which recommends this ordinance 
is, its peculiar tendency to unite the hearts of Christians in 
brotherly kindness and charity. To have the same Master, 
the same Redeemer, the same sacred symbols by which to 
declare their common zeal for him, their common interest in 
him, and their common relations to each other, must be to 
Christians a powerful incentive to dwell together in unity, 
and to promote each other's welfare. The pleasure which 
rewards the conscientious observance of this ordinance serves 
also to strengthen our resolutions, animate our zeal, and 
render the practice of all other duties more delightful. Par- 
taking of the Lord's Supper having these advantages, the 
obligation to do it must be answerable ; for the greater the 
motive to any duty, the more inexcusable is its neglect. 
Let this excite both non-communicants and communicants to 
reflect seriously on the subject. Have I the prospect — should 
the non-communicant say — if I partake worthily, of receiv- 
ing so great advantages, and shall I not be persuaded to do 
it 1 Since it is my happiness to partake of the memorials of 

VOL. III. 18 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 



Christ's body and blood — should the communicant say — I am 
resolved to walk so as to please my Lord and Master, to adorn 
his doctrines, and contribute, in my little sphere, to make the 
world entertain higher thoughts of him and his disciples. 



DEVOTIONAL EXERCISES, 

WHILE RECEIVING THE LORD's SUPPER. 

O my soul, the happy, the wished-for time is arrived, but 
it will quickly be gone. Lay hold of the opportunity, make 
the utmost of it, that when gone it may not be lost. Turn 
away thy eyes from beholding vanity, and look unto Jesus. 
Be all attention and reverence ; let thy thoughts be united 
and elevated, every power engaged, and all thy affections 
present to wait on thy Lord at his table. 

O thou, who alone knowest the hearts of all men, and 
alone hast them in thy power, the almighty and omnipotent 
God, help thou my infirmities ; fix my mind, prone else to 
wander ; cause every good seed which thy hand hath sown 
to spring up ; perfect thy own work ; speak peace to my 
soul ; bid every vain and every tumultuous passion be still. 
The sacrifice is ready ; send down the sacred fire, and help 
me, in the same act, to honor the Father and the Son, that I 
may have fellowship with both. 

" Behold," my soul, " the Lam.b of God which taketh 
away the sin of the world !" Rightly is he called a Laml, 
whose innocence was spotless, whose meekness and patience 
were invincible ; and the Lamb of God, for his superior ex- 
cellence and dignity, and his being chosen to this office by 
the Father. " He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, and 
as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his 
mouth." Neither guile nor complaint was found in his 
mouth, much less cursing and bitterness. Dost thou pro- 



ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 23 

fess thyself a follower of the Lamb, and glory in the title ? 
Learn then of him to be harmless and blameless, meek and 
lowly in heart, alike averse to doing or deserving evil, but 
ready to suffer it. 

But how does the Lamb of God take away sin ? By 
bearing it in his own body on the tree. He was wounded 
for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon 
him. O heavy load, which sunk the Son of God, in his 
body, to the grave ; and, had it not been removed, would 
have sunk the w^orld in ruin ! Worthy is the Lamb that 
was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 
strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing. 

Didst thou, O Jesus, with whom the most precious things, 
and the most excellent beings among creatures, are not once 
to be compared, didst thou give thy sacred self for me on the 
cross, and art thou ready to give thyself to me in the supper ? 
I give, I consecrate myself, without the least reserve, to thee. 
I could wish I were more worthy of thy acceptance. But 
such as I have, I give unto thee ; and I give it heartily, as 
unto the Lord, to whom 1 confess myself to owe more than 
I can give. O do thou make me more like thyself, shed 
more of thy beauty and loveliness upon me, sanctify me in 
every part, help me to be more perfect in every divine at- 
tainment, that I may be less unworthy of thee ! Grant, O 
my Saviour, that I may be able to offer thee the sacrifice of 
a broken and contrite heart, which thou wilt not despise. 

My blessed Saviour did not suffer in his body only. No, 
it was the least part of his sufferings that was visible ; his 
soul was sorrowful even unto death, and labored under such 
an agony in the garden, that his sweat was as it were great 
drops of blood falling to the ground ; and he prayed, " Father, 
if it be possible, let this up pass from me." Nay, he was 
heard crymg out on the cross. My God, my God, why hast 



24 ON THE LORD'S SUPPER. 

tliou forsaken me ? Strange language for the Son of God ! 
Does God indeed forsake his own Son ? the holy, the merci- 
ful God, forsake his innocent, his well-beloved Son ? He 
does for a time, so as to withhold the usual light of his coun- 
tenance, and to leave him in the hands of his enemies. 

Was there ever sorrow like that of my Saviour's ? Can 
any thing be imagined to exceed it ? Yes, O my soul, though 
his sorrows were inconceivably great, his love was greater ; 
for his love made him willing to pass through such a sea of 
sorrows ; his love brought him to that dark hour, and sup- 
ported him in it : love to the rebellious sons of men, love to 
thee, O my soul ! Was ever love like his love ? Is there 
any evil like the evil of sin, the guilty, the cursed occasion 
of all his sufferings ? What ingratitude, O my soul, can be 
equal to thine, if, after what thy Redeemer has done and 
suffered for thee, thou wilt not be persuaded to break thy 
league with his enemies, thy sins ? 

Truly, O Lord, I am thy servant ; I am thine by crea- 
tion, thine by purchase, thine by covenant. I triumph in 
the relation, and acknowledge all the duties resulting from 
it. I have sworn, and cannot repent, that I will keep thy 
righteous statutes; and I now joyfully repeat the solemn 
engagement. Here I am ; Lord, what wilt thou have me to 
do 1 Do with me and mine as seemeth good in thy sight. It 
is thine to command and dispose, mine to obey and submit. 
Thou hast bought me with a price, even with the precious 
blood of thy own Son. I therefore present my whole self, 
body and soul, to thee, a living sacrifice, which is my rea- 
sonable service, with a full purpose of heart to glorify thee 
with them. 



T¥o. 85. 



THE 



WATCHMAKER AND HIS FAMILY 




vi 

low window. 



■pipi '''HP.''''"'" 

r was Saturday night, 

f^'' the clock had struck elev- 

^ en — we took leave of our 

friends, and directed our 

rjiw(J| ^ steps homeward. After 
Jvnip I y passing through several 
\Mm streets, we turned into a 
/ r l' ''narrow lane : all was si- 
lent and dark, except one 



There," said I, " perhaps some poor me- 
chanic, already tired with the labor of the day, still endeav- 
ors to increase his trifling pittance/^ 
VOL. III. 15* 



2 THE WATCHMAKER 

" Let us stop and see," said my companion. It was 
not difficult, for the house was an old-fashioned structure, 
built when the level of the ground was considerably lower 
than at present; so that passengers easily saw what was 
passing within. 

When we came opposite the window we saw a middle- 
aged man at his work-table, finishing one of the movements 
of a timepiece — his tool slipped, and the w^ork was spoiled — 
he repeated the attempt, and again he was unsuccessful ; a 
slight and momentary expression of trouble appeared on his 
countenance, but the cloud soon passed away ; he clasped 
his hands and looked upwards, while his lips moved as if 
uttering a short and fervent prayer ; the expression of 
trouble disappeared ; he resumed his work. In a few 
minutes he looked at the hour, and seeing it was now mid- 
night, laid aside his work. Then, removing the lamp to a 
table in another part of the room, took a book and began to 
read ; presently he closed it, and kneeling down prayed 
earnestly ; afterwards, resuming his seat, he was for a 
short time engaged in meditation, then taking up the lamp 
left the room. 

" There goes one of your godly ones," said my com- 
panion, walking on ; "I am sure he- is one of that sort." 

" May be so ; but did you not observe his patience, 
although he repeatedly failed in his work ? Did you mark 
the expression of his countenance ? it indicated trouble, but 
not anger or vexation." 

•' Yes, it was a peculiar expression, very different from 
that of workmen in general when an accident befalls them. 
I could not but observe it — the man seems poor, but there 
is something very decent and even respectable about him ; 
but what could be the reason why he left off without finish- 
ing the movement ?" 



AND HIS FAMILY. 3 

" Did not you see it was twelve o'clock ? The Lord's 
day — the day of rest from wordly care and employments, 
has begun." 

" Well, this is being righteous overmuch ; if he went 
to church as usual, surely it could be no matter whether he 
worked half an hour longer to finish what he was about or 
not ; the man has to support his family. This is one of the 
mistakes about religion." 

" I differ from you : I cannot blame the utmost strictness 
in endeavoring to do the will of God. Surely, no man can be 
righteous overmuch while doing as the Bible directs him." 

" But what harm would it have been if this poor man 
had worked an hour or two longer ? He must have some 
reason for being so late at his work : perhaps his wife or 
children are ill." 

" He thinks that he ought to obey the commands of God 
before any thing else ; and he is sure that God will not 
allow him to suffer for obeying his will." 

'' Then you suppose that he expects God will work 
some miracle to help him ; for surely, if his work is not 
finished, he will not be paid for it. For my part, I should 
not understand a workman leaving a piece of work unfin- 
ished for any such fanatical notions ; and if his master is of 
the same opinion, and should want the work to-morrow, 
what will become of him ?" 

" My friend, every thing in this world belongs to God ; 
and let us remember, that he causes all things to work 
together for good to those who love him." 

" All this may be very true, but I should like to know 
something more of this man. I think I will come this way 
to-morrow morning, and see what he is about. I shall call 
at your house in the afternoon." 



THE WATCHMAKER 



SABBATH MORNING. 



" Well," said I, " my friend, have you been looking 
after our poor watchmaker V 

" Yes, and I do not know what to make of him ; there 
is something extraordinary in every thing he says and does ; 
I never saw one like him before." 

" Why, what has happened ?" 

" After we parted last night I thought a good deal about 
what we had seen. I rose early this morning, and was 
again at the house by six o'clock. I had hardly entered 
the dwelling when I heard the poor watchmaker singing. 
Now, thought I, I have found you at work ; but I was mis- 
taken : he was sitting with his children around him ; a 
Bible lay open on the table, and they were singing the 103d 
Psalm. Next him sat a young girl about fourteen, her arm 
rested on his shoulder. Between his knees stood a child 
three or four years old, while another brother, some years 
older, completed the group. They sang in a most pleasing 
manner, and I heard another voice from the next room join- 
ing with them ; what they sang evidently came from their 
hearts, and I must confess it went to mine." 

" That is not surprising ; but proceed." 

" After they had sung, they knelt down and prayed. I 
was particularly struck with the prayer of the daughter ; 
here it is ; I wrote it down, and will read it to you. ' O, 
thou blessed Saviour, the friend of sinners, we call upon 
thee with our whole hearts, and may thy Holy Spirit teach 
us to pray aright. We lived without the knowledge or 
love of thee, and were always unhappy ; but now, O Lord, 
we love thee, and delight to serve thee. Oh ! be with us 
and bless us; especially, be with us this day ; it is thine 
cv.n day= Enable us to serve thee with all our hearts ; 



AND HIS FAMILY, 5 

may we be attentive to thy word, and enable us to under- 
stand it. Bless our dear minister, who teaches us to know 
thee : O Lord, be with our dear mother ; we entreat thee for 
her ; thou canst take away her sickness, if it be thy will — 
(a voice from the next room added, ' But thy will be done ') — 
yes, O Lord, thy will be done ; may our dear father be 
spared to us, and may we all be good children. Amen.^ 

" ' Now for breakfast,' said the father. ' Jenny, where 
is the milk V The table was presently covered with four 
cups, half a loaf, and a jug of milk ; they took their places, 
and the father asked a blessing." 

" You have drawn an interesting picture indeed," said 
L " Compare this humble meal with the sumptuous repasts 
of the world, and say in which of them is true happiness. 
A poor artisan entreats God to bless his humble fare, and 
eats with pleasure and without repining; while the irre- 
ligious and sensual man sits down to his crowded board 
without even thinking of the Almighty, who gives him all 
things richly to enjoy." 

" The clock struck eight ; * Jenny, are you ready to 
repeat your chapter V said the father. ' Yes, I learned it 
last night, and have looked over it again this morning.' — 
* Clement, are you ready V 'I will look over it once more,' 
answered the boy, and sat down by the window. 

" ' My children, I hope you will be perfect in your 
catechism to-day ; do not let me have the pain to hear you 
are wrong in your answers ; your teacher will also be 
grieved ; remember he told you once you were more ready 
at reading any thing than your Bible ; don't let him have 
to say this again. Set a good example ; let it not be said, 
the children who have been taught to know the Saviour are 
behind those who are ignorant of the truth. Jenny, which 
is best, to love the Saviour or to love the world V 



Q THE WATCHMAKER 

" ' Ah, my clear father, would that I loved the Lord more 
than I do.' 

" ' Be of good cheer, my dear child, he who has begun 
in you a good work will complete it ; he is faithful, he will 
support and strengthen you. Go and see if you can help 
your mother.' 

KEEP HOLY THE SABBATH-DAY. 

" At this moment a man came up the stairs ; he was 
well dressed, but his countenance looked harsh and forbid- 
ding. He appeared quite out of humor, and throwing open 
the door, exclaimed, in an angry tone, ' Must I always be 
obliged to look after you in this way ? have not you finished 
the work I gave you ? I 77iust have it this morning.' 

" Frightened at his voice and manner, the boys ran 
and hid themselves in the next room. Jenny stood by 
the door. The watchmaker offered a chair to his master. 
' Pooh ! none of your ceremonies, where is your work V 

" ' Sir, I am very sorry, but I have not been able quite 
to finish the timepiece. I worked till midnight, but I met 
with some accidents.' 

" * Yes, that is always the way with you, always 
clumsy, and some paltry excuse or other : what state is it 
in V He opened the case in which the timepiece was 
placed, and taking out a magnifying glass, examined the 
work. ' Well, very well indeed ; so far good ! Come, my 
good fellow, to your bench directly ; you will finish it in 
two or three hours, and then your money will be ready.' 

" ' You forget, sir,' said the watchmaker, in a calm but 
firm tone, ' that this is the Sabbath, and I cannot ' 



" ' Pooh ! none of your nonsense ; you are one of the 
saints, are you ? I wish the whole pack of them at the 



AND HIS FAMILY. <j 

bottom of the sea. What harm can there be in working an 
hour or two ? There will be plenty of time afterwards for 
two long sermons ; besides, God never can wish you should 
starve.' 

" ' Sir, I will engage that the timepiece shall be at your 
house as early as you please to-morrow ; I will set about it 
by one o'clock in the morning. You cannot send it off be- 
fore noon, so there will be time enough to examine that it is 
properly finished.' 

" ' I did not ask for your opinion, but desired you would 
set about it directly ; do you intend to do so or not V 

" The poor workman shut his box, saying, in a humble 
tone, ' Sir, I cannot work to-day.' 

" ' What a fool you are ! I am sorry, for you are a 
clever hand, and I had intended to help you. If you lose 
my work it is your fault. Have you any thing else to do V 

" 'No, I have not any work besides this.' 

" ' Well, then, take my advice, lay aside these nonsen- 
sical scruples : my religion allows me to attend to my busi- 
ness on Sunday morning.' 

" ' Mine, sir, does not.' 

" ' As much as to say, you are a great deal wiser than I 
am. If work is to be done, it must be done ; besides, the 
Bible says that the Sabbath was made for man, and not man 
for the Sabbath ; what do you say to that V 

'"No doubt it is true ; but man was created to serve 
the Lord with all his heart. It is a privilege and a pleas- 
ure to keep the Sabbath, and worship the Lord on his own 
day ; it would be misery indeed to profane it, and surely 
his blessing would not be with my labor.' 

" ' Am I accursed ? Are we all pagans and infidels 
because we do not go to your ' house of prayer,' as you 
call it ? Depend upon it, this hypocritical nonsense will get 



Q THE WATCHMAKER 

you into trouble. We must really see and do something 
with the people that make such a disturbance, and are so 
troublesome.' 

" ' Sir, surely you cannot mean that keeping the Lord's 
day holy is making a disturbance ; please to remember, 
there are laws which expressly forbid us to follow our 
worldly callings on this day.' 

" ' I did not come here to be taught my duty ; once for 
all, finish the work, or I must take it away.' 

" ' The Lord will provide, and may he forgive you for 
taking away work from a man with a large family and a 
sick wife, when there really is no reason for so doing.' 

" ' I do not take it away ; you refuse to finish it. When 
you are come to your senses, perhaps I may find you work 
again.' 

" This hard-hearted man then left the room — the watch- 
maker raised his eyes towards heaven and sat down. I 
came away not a little grieved and struck with what I saw 
and heard." 

" I do not wonder at it," said I ; " this master is indeed 
hard-hearted ! Thus it is that, though there are some who 
conscientiously regard the Sabbath, the general profanation 
of this day has become a disgrace to our country, and a 
national sin : alas ! we see it in every rank. The effect of 
bad example is great, and I believe workmen often employ 
this day in their usual labors, though not required by their 
employers ; or perhaps they occupy themselves in some 
other sort of work ; not to mention the idle and lounging 
manner in which thousands pass the day, and by which it 
is in reality as much profaned as by the hardest labor. 
Again, I fear persons who themselves would on no account 
break the Sabbath, often thoughtlessly compel others to do 
so ; they go perhaps at the latter end of the week, and order 



AND HIS FAMILY. g 

articles to be ready by Monday or Tuesday, without reflect- 
ing that their orders cannot be completed unless the poor 
workman labors hard the whole of the Sabbath ; in such 
cases, surely, the person who causes the profanation of the 
day is equally guilty with the laborer. I have known mis- 
tresses of families who would be shocked if you asked them 
to join a party of pleasure, or to direct their servants to do 
some unnecessary work on that day, without hesitation give 
their dress-maker such strict orders to complete some article 
of apparel by a particular time, as would compel them to 
work on the Lord's day. 

" The Son of man is Lord of the Sabbath, and his 
people are freed from the slavish observance of the Sabbath 
according to the rites of the Jews in times of old, but still it 
is his day; it is the Lord's day, set apart peculiarly for 
opportunities of worshipping him and attending to the con- 
cerns of our souls ; so that those who needlessly employ it 
otherwise themselves, or cause others to do so, assuredly 
break his holy word, and act contrary to his will : and let 
it ever be remembered, that Sabbath- breaking almost inva- 
riably stands the first in the dark catalogue of those crimes 
which lead men to punishment. This should particularly 
be inculcated on the minds of children. As for this poor 
watchmaker, your account makes me anxious to know more 
about him ; I intend to call upon him this evening ; suppose 
you go with me, and we will see if we can help the poor 
man." 

SABBATH EVENING. 

Blessed'is the house where those who bear rule seek the 
Lord. There can be no real peace or comfort in a family 
unless the parents love the Saviour ; then his peace will be 
with them and their household. " The curse of the Lord is 

VOL. ITT. 19 



10 THE WATCHMAKER 

in the house of the wicked, but he blesseth the habitation of 
the just." Prov. 3 : 33. 

This was instanced in our poor watchmaker. At eight 
o'clock we knocked at the door of his room ; Jenny came 
and asked, " Who is there ?" 

"Friends of your father." 

She called him : he came, and said, " Gentlemen, I do 
not recollect you, but if you please, walk in." 

" I am a servant of Christ," said I, offering my hand, 
" and I trust it is upon his work we are come." 

" If this is the case, perhaps you will join our little 
circle;" so saying, he led us into the inner room. We 
found his wife sitting up in bed, the youngest child lay in a 
cradle, and the other two children stood by the bedside ; 
two or three friends sat at the other end of the room, where 
a Bible lay open upon the table. 

" These are our friends, and also friends of our Sav- 
iour," said the watchmaker to us ; " they call here some- 
times on the Lord's day evening, to talk over those things 
which concern our souls. I was just now endeavoring to 
explain to the children the parable of the two friends." 
Luke 11:5. 

" Do not let us interrupt you." 

THE PARABLE. 

The father then proceeded to explain the love of God to 
his children, and to show that they might be sure of being 
heard and answered when they prayed earnestly with sin- 
cerity and truth. " Observe," said he, " this friend came 
at midnight, an unseasonable hour, but he did not hesitate, 
for it was a friend to whom he applied. He was not dis- 
couraged at being refused, for he knew that his friend could 



AND HIS FAMILY. jj 

give him what he desired ; he knew his kind disposition, his 
readiness to oblige, and he trusted in his friend's affection 
for him — he was not mistaken ; he obtained all that he 
asked for. Now, my dear children, is not our God a better 
friend than any we can have in this world ? is there any one 
of our friends, even the best we have, who would lay down 
his life for us ? Would any one offer to bear the wrath of 
God for us ? Yet our Saviour bore this when he was nailed 
to the cross. Again, can there be a friend richer or more 
powerful than he is ? Think for a moment : what are the 
riches of this world when compared with the treasures of 
his love ? And do not let us forget, that our Friend is not 
only thus able to give exceeding abundantly above all we 
can ask or think, but he is also ready and willing so to do. 
He will withhold nothing that is for their good, from those 
who really seek him. He is always ready to hear, times 
and seasons are alike to him : I say this, my children, know- 
ing that what I say is true ; his ears are always open to our 
prayers, he is always ready to hearken unto us and to bless 
us. Remember what he has done for us in times past. My 
dear children, look to the Saviour, he has said that he will 
give his Holy Spirit to those who ask him ; apply to your 
heavenly Father as you would to me — perhaps I do not 
attend to you directly, but you are not afraid to ask again, 
till your desires are attended to — plead thus with your heav- 
enly Father, he will hear and answer you ; earnestly do I 
entreat him that you may be led to seek him early." Prov. 
8: 17. 

A respectable female, one of the party, who was their 
aunt, added a few words of good advice ; among other things, 
she told the children always to pray at night before they got 
into bed, for when they put it off till they laid down, they 
would be tired, and would only offer up a few vague and 



12 THE WATCHMAKER 

sleepy words. " This, my dear children," said she, " is 
not praying." The two children thanked their aunt and 
father, and having kissed their mother, retired to their little 
beds. 

" They are not aware of their privileges," said I ; " one 
day they will know the advantage of having had parents 
who loved the Saviour: may he bless your endeavors to 
instruct them." 

"Amen!" said the mother. "It is my earnest prayer 
that my dear Jenny may early know what it is to seek the 
Lord; then I can leave her without anxiety." 

" The blessing of the Lord," said I, " is with you ; he 
will make your strength equal to your day." 

" Yes," said the watchmaker, " the Lord is our shep- 
herd : he crowneth us with loving kindness and tender mer- 
cies." 

" My good friend," said I, " have you long held these 
sentiments ? What first led you to this way of thinking ?" 

" Sir, I will tell you as briefly as I can, since you wish 
to know the particulars." 

HISTORY OF THE WATCHMAKER. 

" I was brought up to the watch-making business — first 
errand-boy, then apprentice, afterwards a journeyman, in a 
considerable manufactory. But, alas, I was scarcely in- 
structed in the first principles of religion : my parents were 
poor, and they were glad to find a place for me as soon as I 
could earn a trifle. My master taught me nothing except 
my business ; and although my memory was good, and re- 
tained what little I had learned, it was very little indeed. 
I was like the generality of mechanics, disorderly and irre- 
ligious ; I laughed at the Bible, though I had hardly ever 



AND HIS FAMILY. jg 

looked in it ; while the blasphemies of Paine and Voltaire, 
and other works of a licentious and impure description, 
were my delight. I was a skilful workman, and earned a 
good deal of money, but I squandered all away as fast as I 
received it: the public-house was my daily resort; in a 
word, I was just that thoughtless, wicked being, which most 
of our artisans are, careless of the morrow, and indifferent 
as to the concerns of my soul. 

" This was the wretched course in which I lived when 
I married my dear wife : she was then ignorant of the 
Saviour, but she had been regularly brought up and in- 
structed by her parents ; of course she was much grieved 
at my conduct, and often mildly and earnestly urged me to 
reform. I could not but acknowledge the truth of what she 
said, and a thousand times determined to lead a new life. 
But, sir, who can change his own heart or reform his con- 
duct, when he sets about it in his own strength ? My old 
habits and companions all conspired to retain me in their 
bands — I could not extricate myself, but plunged again and 
again into sin and folly. 

" I was a husband and a father, but cared not for wife 
or child : I was always unhappy and discontented, and when 
I returned home it was only to wreak upon my patient com- 
panion those tempers which were the consequence of my 
own ill conduct. Oh, sir, are you at all acquainted with 
the families of our mechanics ? If so, I need not attempt to 
describe the discord, the misery, and wretchedness which 
so often troubles them, or to paint the consequences which 
ensue. 

" Thus passed ten miserable years. I was an unkind 

husband, an irreligious father. This brief description at 

once tells you our wretchedness. ' There is no peace, saith 

my God, to the wicked.' Isaiah 57 : 21. Infidels may say 
VOL. III. 19=^ 



14 THE WATCHMAKER 

what they please, but I speak from bitter experience : where 
the love of the Saviour abideth not, there is wrath, envy, 
hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness ; in a word, it is 
hell upon earth. Oh, that my dear wife could forget those 
years of pain and suffering ; the remembrance of them is a 
burden which would overwhelm me, did not I remember 
that the loving kindness and tender mercy of the Saviour is 
greater than our sins. Oh," said he, taking his wife by the 
hand, " have you, can you forget these things ?" 

" My dear," replied this excellent woman, " can your 
wife remember what our heavenly Father has declared that 
he has forgotten ?" 

" What do I not owe to you," said he. " Thus it is, sir, 
that she always supports me ; her example, and above all, 
her prayers, have indeed been blessed to my soul. 

" About three years ago, I observed that my wife had 
some new acquaintance ; there was evidently a change in 
her ; she appeared more anxious about religion, and I found 
that she attended public worship more frequently. I spoke 
to her about this : she answered by asking me to go with 
her some day. I strove to find fault with her, but her con- 
duct, always kind, and affectionate, and obedient, was now 
more so than ever. About this time I was visited with a 
severe illness, the consequence of my excesses. Death 
stared me in the face ; my sins crowded into my recollec- 
tion ; a horrible dread overwhelmed me. I entreated my 
wife and her friends to pray for my soul. Never shall I 
forget her joy when she heard this request. From that mo- 
ment she seemed more at ease when talking with me. She 
read to me from the Bible, and often conversed about serious 
things. I was very desirous to recover, that I might have 
time and opportunity to do away my past sins by more cor- 
rect conduct in future ; and I thought that if I did do so, I 



AND HIS FAMILY. jg 

should be sure to go to heaven. Oh, how far was I from 
the knowledge of the Gospel ; but my heart was yet too 
hard, and (vile as I was) too full of self-righteousness to 
submit to a Saviour, and desire pardon through him. 

" As I grew stronger, the natural enmity of my heart 
against religion was again manifested. I endeavored to 
drive away these thoughts, and now became more averse to 
my wife's proceedings ; and one day, when she asked me 
to accompany her to public worship, I broke out into a fit 
of passion, and declared that if she ever said another word 
on the subject I would throw her books into the fire. My 
poor wife, as you may suppose, was much grieved ; her 
only comfort was, that her daughter began to seek the know- 
ledge of the Saviour. 

" Some months afterward, one of my companions in sin 
died. His end was dreadful, and I was struck with this, 
and often thought upon it. One day I was walking in the 
fields, when a person passed me, and put a little Tract into 
my hand, saying, ' My friend, this little book is worth your 
attention.'" To my surprise I found it contained a short and 
earnest address upon death and judgment: it showed me 
the danger of my state, and pointed out the only remedy 
whereby I could escape, and earnestly called upon the 
reader to seek this remedy, and fly to Christ for the pardon 
of his sins. I still endeavored to drive away these thoughts, 
but could not. 

" One evening, as I wandered abroad, I heard a person 
who was walking before me call to another, and pointing to 
some people who were entering a place of worship, he ex- 
claimed, ' There, Tom, are the godly ones ! Have you a 
mind to go and be made a saint?' These words (I knew 
not why) excited my curiosity : I entered the place, and sat 
down ; the service had already begun, and the minister was 



IQ THE WATCHMAKER 

in his prayer before sermon. Never shall I forget the im- 
pression his words made upon me — they pierced my heart 
and soul ; I could think of nothing but my wretched state, 
and the wrath of God which I so justly deserved. 

" I did not tell my wife what was passing in my mind, 
but waited with impatience for the Wednesday following, 
when there would be service again. As I entered I saw 
my wife and daughter ; their countenances declared their 
joy at seeing me there. The minister who preached had 
chosen for his text, ' Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh 
away the sin of the world.' John 1 : 29. The picture 
which he drew of the state of man, lost and ruined by sin, 
and filled with enmity against God, seemed as if intended 
for me. I could not but see my own likeness, and from 
that moment I felt that I could not obtain salvation unless it 
were given me from above. I now was filled with anxiety 
respecting my soul. 

" My wife and daughter followed me in silence when 
the service was over. I saw they were afraid to speak to 
me, and I said to them, ' I see you are afraid of me, and I 
do not wonder, for I now see what a monster of iniquity I 
am.' At these words they endeavored to console me : my 
wife said, ' O, do not despair ; seek the Lord, and he will be 
found ; cast your burthen upon him, and he will sustain you. 
He can heal your soul. Yes, Jesus himself now invites 
you : Oh, do not hesitate, but cast yourself upon him ; with 
him is mercy and forgiveness.' 

" Need I add any further particulars ? The Holy Spirit 
has been pleased to lead me to the knowledge of Christ, and 
to show me what the Saviour has done and suffered to bring 
us near to God. This now appears clear to me ; but the 
Holy Spirit alone could teach me that Christ has suffered 
for me, the just for the unjust. 1 Peter, 3 : 18. That he 



AND HIS FAMILY. 17 

has borne our sins in his own body on the tree ; and that 
the chastisement of my iniquity is upon him. When I was 
thus led to feel that he gave himself for our sins, Gal. 1 : 4, 
then my sins became hateful to me ; I felt that they had 
nailed him to the cross, and I earnestly desired to dedicate 
myself to his service, and to live to him who died for me. 

" I may truly say that my experience since that time 
has been one of peace and joy ; thanks be to the Lord who 
gave me, in my dear wife, a faithful guide and counsellor, 
to whom I could always resort. We have not been without 
our trials ; you know, sir, that those who seek to walk in 
the paths of the Lord must expect to meet with opposition 
from the world. My former connections have endeavored 
to trouble me as much as they could ; they accuse me of 
hypocrisy, and utter many falsities about me. Often have 
I been tempted to say, wherewithal shall we be clothed and 
fed 1 But I have always had reason to take shame to my- 
self for my unbelief; and the many mercies I have expe- 
rienced prove to me that the Lord will not forsake those 
whom he calls his own." 

" No," said I, " he will not leave you ; he cannot forget 
his people ; he is faithful, and his word of promise standeth 
sure. Christ has given himself for you, and possessing him 
you have received all things ; being heirs of God and joint- 
heirs with Christ." Rom. 8 : 17. 

REFLECTIONS. 

" Well," said my friend, when we were in the street, 
" this passes all that I could have supposed. This, then, 
is one of those men who are called enthusiasts, knaves, 
hypocrites, and are even accused of licentious conduct. 
Would to God that we were all like this man !" 



19 THE WATCHMAKER 

" You now see," said I, " the mistaken notion the world 
entertains of these people, and you now are aware how 
falsely they are accused : this is because the carnal mind 
is enmity against God. The world hates them as it hates 
their Lord and Master." 

" I am most surprised," said my friend, " to observe the 
remarkable fruits of these doctrines. I have seen this 
man's conduct without disguise, and I cannot but judge of 
the excellency of what he professes by what I have seen 
him practise : I have been mistaken indeed in my ideas 
about these people." 

" I trust God has caused you to see your error ; inquire 
for yourself, seek direction from the Holy Spirit, and remem- 
ber that it is not a mere matter of curiosity, but one of 
infinite importance ; your everlasting happiness or misery 
depends thereon. May he direct you, and lead you to that 
knowledge which alone can make wise to salvation. I once 
was as you have been till now — an enemy to the people of 
God. But he is rich in mercy ; he sought me while afar 
off: he showed me the exceeding riches of his love, and 
enabled me to draw near to him with joy and peace in 
believing. Oh, may this be your case ! Seek the Lord 
while he may be found ; call upon him while he is near ; 
lay hold upon the hope set before you. Forget not what 
you have seen and heard to-day. Adieu ! To-morrow 
morning we will call again upon our poor watchmaker." 

BETTER DAYS. 

" See how they love one another." This was said of 
the first Christians. That divine love which cometh from 
above will ever shine with brightness in the children of God. 
It is the sure mark and seal whereby they are known among 



AND HIS FAMLY. J9 

men ; the Spirit of God has impressed this upon them. 
Blessed is the man who has tasted of the Saviour's love ; 
happy is the family where it is the bond of union. 

It was exemplified in the poor watchmaker and his 
family ; there all was love, peace, and union, regulating all 
their proceedings and influencing each individual. I never 
saw in any family such patience and kind attention from 
parents to children, nor did I ever see equal respect, sub- 
mission, ready obedience, and docility, from children to 
parents. The love of God enlivened their hearts, and the 
influence of his Holy Spirit produced these effects. 

When we entered his room, we found the watchmaker 
engaged in instructing a young man in one of the more 
difficult operations of his business ; on inquiry we found he 
was a poor orphan, the son of a pious friend lately deceased, 
who had literally left his child to the care of Providence ; 
and He who careth for the fatherless had inclined the heart 
of this poor man to take the lad, and to share his scanty 
pittance with him, feeding his soul at the same time with 
the bread of life ; for those whose situation would seem to 
render them unable to assist others, often engage in acts of 
charity which should put many a more wealthy professor to 
the blush. 

After a short conversation, " My friend," said I, " how 
are you off for work ? could you finish some watches for 
me?" 

My inquiry struck him with surprise ; tears stood in his 
eyes : he clasped his hands and exclaimed, " Sir, God has 
sent you to us ; I am quite out of work." 

" So I understood ; I was told your employer had dis- 
missed you because you would not work on the Sabbath." 

" 'Tis too true : alas ! sir, he knows no better — I myself 
once did the same to a polisher. God would have us all 



20 THE WATCHMAKER AND HIS FAMILY. 

kindly compassionate one to another. He alone can incline 
our hearts to keep his law." 

" Worthy man," said my companion, seizing his hand, 
" I trust I have received good to my soul from what I have 
heard and seen of you." 

" How can this be ?" 

'- He was," said I, " wise and righteous in his own eyes ; 
now he begins to see his own state, and his need of a Sav- 
iour, and perceives the false notions he entertained of the 
people of God." 

" May God, of his infinite mercy, bless you," said the 
poor watchmaker ; " may the seed take deep root downward, 
and bring forth much fruit upward ; his ways are ways of 
pleasantness, and all his paths are peace." 

It is now time to finish my narrative, and may the truths 
set forth in this Tract be impressed upon your heart and 
mine, my dear reader. Remember that " the Lord is nigh 
unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him 
in truth. He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him : 
he also will hear their cry, and will save them." 



No. 86. 



AM I SELF-DECEIVED? 



Could a more startling question be asked ? I must soon 
appear at the judgment-bar. Omniscient purity will speed- 
ily search me through. Every disguise will then be torn 
off. The truth will come out. Eternity will be to me full 
of bliss or woe, according to the character I shall then have. 
I am a professor of religion. Perhaps, in the judgment of 
my charitable friends, I am pious. But is their judgment 
correct ? Am I a hypocrite ? O, that I knew ! My heart 
does not accuse me of that gross kind of hypocrisy which, 
" for a pretence, makes long prayers," at the very time I 
am thinking how I may rob widows and orphans. Yet my 
" heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." 
I know that much of the hypocrisy in the world is of a very 
subtle and insidious nature. It may be so with me. Am 
I a hypocrite ? I will honestly inquire. 

It is no proof that I am not one, that my neighhors do not 
say that I am. There never were greater hypocrites on 
earth than the Pharisees. Yet the people commonly thought 
them very pious, and said, "If but two men are saved, one 
of them will be a Pharisee." Nor does the good opinion of 
pious and eminent men prove me to be a genuine Christian. 
The apostles all seem to have had a high opinion of Judas. 
Simon Magus won Peter's confidence. Paul at one time 
thought well of Demas. I may be a hypocrite while others 
think me a saint. 

It is not certain that I am not a hypocrite, because I 

have not been in the habit of regarding myself as one. I 

am much inclined to think well of myself. It would require 
VOL. III. 20 



2 AM I SELF-DECEIVED t 

more than common candor to indict one's self for so high a 
crime. Many of the vilest hypocrites have abounded in 
self-confidence and self-esteem. Job was grieved at the 
charge of hypocrisy ; but he did not show half the temper 
that the Pharisees did when the same charge was brought 
against them. Perhaps no persons have a better opinion of 
themselves than the grossest hypocrites. 

Nor is it certain that I am not a hypocrite, because my 
hisioYj corresponds in some things with the experience of sovie 
eminent professors. First of all, some eminent professors 
are hypocrites, and it requires no grace for me to attain to 
the same experience with them. Again, it may be that it- 
is merely in unessential incidents and circumstances, and 
not in the very essence of piety, that my experience agrees 
with that of others. 

One MARK OF A HYPOCRITE is, that while he may be wise, 
and prudent, and knowing in worldly matters, he is not so 
in the things of religion. The Spirit of Christ does not rest 
upon him. He has not the anointing which teacheth him 
" all things." He is not " of quick understanding in the 
fear of the Lord." The hypocrite may be of high intel- 
lectual attainments — may discourse fluently, and even elo- 
quently, on religious truths ; yet he has no spiritual discern- 
ment. He is blind, and cannot see afar off*. Jesus Christ 
says that this spiritual blindness and ignorance rested on the 
hypocrites of his day. Matt. 16 : 2, 3. No hypocrite has 
" evidence of things not seen " by the senses, or by carnal 
reason. O, that I may not fail of heaven at last ! 

If I do not love secret prayer, I must be a hypocrite. 
An unregenerate man may pray, when terrified, or sick, or 
afflicted, or when his conscience is somewhat quickened, 
but he has no love for prayer even then. Returning pros- 
perity drives him from his closet. Will God hear the hypo- 
crite's " cry, when trouble cometh upon him ? Will he 



AM I SELF-DECEIVED 1 3 

delight himself in the Almighty 1 Will he always call upon 
God ?" Job 27 : 9, 10. This is an awful subject. Seek 
to understand it well. Be honest. O, my soul, dost thou 
delight in God ? Hast thou pleasure in the Almighty ? 
Dost thou love to commune with him ? Dost thou love 
prayer ? 

Hypocrites are subject to strong fears and terrors in 
times of Divine judgments. When war, famine, or pestilence 
threatens a land, or when personal calamities gather thickly 
around the spurious professor, he is often filled with dismay. 
Seriously threaten to take from him property, liberty, char- 
acter, or life, and he knows not what to do. The prospect 
of speedy death is dismal to him. Isaiah, having described 
some terrible judgments, says, "The sinners in Zion are 
afraid : fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrites." Chap. 
33 : 14. The termination of their lives is sometimes heart- 
rending. The rain descends, the floods come, and the winds 
blow, and beat upon the ill-founded house, and it falls, and 
great is the fall of it. O, my soul, shall thy hopes be all 
blasted at last ? 

He that indulges in severe and harsh censure of others 
for minor faults, and condemns not himself for greater faults, 
is a hypocrite. Matt. 7 : 1, 5. How is my practice in this 
respect ? With what judgment I judge, I shall be judged. 
Then, what will be my eternal destiny ? O, my soul, prac- 
tise no deceit on thyself here. Am I a hypocrite ? 

To be prompt in promising, and tardy in performing, 
is a part of a hypocritical character. A good man, intend- 
ing to do all he engages to do, is slow in passing his word. 
But hypocrites "say, and do not." Matt. 23: 3. They 
say, We go, Lord ; but they go not. They abound in 
promises and professions of obedience and love ; but tliey 
stop at that. Is this my character 1 How am I keeping ray 
solemn vows, made at the table of the Lord ? 



4 AM 1 SELF-DECEIVED ? 

Ostentation is another feature of a hypocritical character. 
Matt. 23 : 5. So is a hiding of sin under specious pretences. 
Matt. 23 : 14. Punctilious scrupulosity about little matters, 
and neglect of the substantial duties of life, is another mark 
of a hypocrite. Those who lived in Christ's day, strained 
at a gnat and swallowed a camel. They gave a tenth of all 
their garden herbs, and yet they were cruel, unjust, and 
faithless. How stands my character in these respects ? 

Hypocrites, too, in every age, praise the pious dead, and 
hate the living who act just as the pious dead acted. Matt. 
23 : 29, 30. They commend good men, whose example 
and reproofs reach them not, and rail at those whose holy 
example before their eyes warns them of their guilt and 
danger. Is this my character ? I admire the intrepidity 
of Nathan in calling his backslidden monarch to repentance. 
Do I admire the man that cries in my ears. Return, O thou 
backslider, unto the Lord ! 

Excess and overacting attach to all hypocritical charac- 
ters. Their prayers are too long — their zeal rises to fury — 
their moderation is indifference. When they would be wise, 
they are cunning. So in every thing. All is overacted. 

Am I a hypocrite 1 How momentous the question ! 
How immense the interest at stake ! Lord, " search me 
and know me, try me and know my thoughts, and see if there 
be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way ever- 
lasting;" leave me not to the surprise of coming wrath. 
" For what is the hope of the hypocrite, though he hath 
gained, when God taketh away his soul ?" Hypocrites shall 
"■ receive the greater damnation." Matt. 23 : 14. I can- 
not, I will not rest until I have good reason for saying, 
" Lord, thou knowest all things — thou knowest that I love 
thee." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 87. 

CONVERSATION IN A BOAT, 

BETWEEN TWO SEAMEN. 

BY A CLERGYMAN OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, 

FORMERLY A LIEUTENANT IN THE ROYAL NAVY. 




The Repulse was as noble a seventy-four, and the crew 
were as fine fellows, as ever swam salt water, or went into 
action. No ship could beat her, either at harbor or sea 
duty ; no men were better dressed, or better behaved ; and 
I think I may say, no men were better treated by their 
officers. While the forecastle could show an unusual num- 
ber of brave and able seamen, the quarter-deck furnished 
its full quota of brave and gentlemanly officers, who knew 
and did their own duty, and were always ready to notice 
and encourage those of the crew who did theirs, and to grant 
them every indulgence and comfort which the service ad- 
mitted of. Thus the old saying was proved true on board 
the Repulse, Good ojicers make good men. 
VOL. III. 20* 



2 CO.WERSATIOiX IN A BOAT. 

Every body knew the Repulse's boats, and boats' crews, 
long before they reached the beach ; for they were the 
smartest on the station. When they were away from the 
ship on duty, no person ever saw them go oif with a drunk- 
en, noisy, dirty crew ; and whenever the captain or ward- 
room officers went on shore for a walk, the boats' crews 
were almost always at liberty to takie a ramble by them- 
selves, for they were sure to be back, and ready to return 
on board with their officers at the appointed time. There 
was no running away on the part of the men, nor any 
swearino-, abusive, or threatening language on that of the 
officers ; no wonder, then, that others should call her " The 
Happy Repulse." Many a man has wished he belonged 
to her; and I have often wished that every vessel, in the 
navy was like her, both as to officers and crew in general. 

There was, however, one thing on board the Repulse, 
which, above all others, helped to set every thing else to 
rights ; and that one grand thing — however strange it may 
sound to some ears — was Religion. I don't mean that all 
the officers and ship's company were religious : no ; many, 
of both classes, neglected the care of their souls, although 
this is the one thing needful, even before and above all 
others. But while many lived as though there were no 
God, there were others, and that a good number, who read 
their Bible, and who not only took delight in seeing the 
church rigged out on Sundays, but were much taken with 
the kind and affectionate manner in which the chaplain en- 
deavored to instruct them in the evenings between decks, 
and in his own cabin. He was, indeed, as kind to them as 
though he had been their brother ; and as he let no circum- 
stance or opportunity pass, without endeavoring to point 
out their duty to God and their country, and to show them 
the way to be happy in this world and in that to come, the 
reader will not be surprised to hear, that many of the Re- 
pulse's crew knew more about tliese things, and acted more 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 3 

like wise and good men, than most in the British Navy. 
But perhaps this will more fully appear, if I lay before him 
the substance of a conversation which took place between 
Harry Williams, cockswain of the Green Cutter, and Tom 
Brown, who pulled the stroke oar. 

This ship was lying in the river Tagus, about a mile 
above Belem Castle. The day being very fine, the top- 
gallant and royal yards across, the decks all to rights, and 
the sails loosed to dry, a party of officers determined to 
take the advantage of a flood tide and leading breeze, to 
go up to Lisbon for a forenoon's amusement. The Green 
Cutter was therefore manned, which, dashing through every 
thing in high style, in a short time landed them at the new 
town. The crew, as usual, had permission to go into the 
city, and buy whatever trifles they or their messmates 
wanted, but were to be again in the boat, and ready to go 
off at two o'clock, to dinner. This they promised to do, and 
on shore jumped all hands except Tom Brown, who that 
day was boat-keeper. 

Harry, who did not immediately quit the place, thought 
he saw a little dissatisfaction in Tom's countenance ; and, 
guessing that he wished to go into the town, said, " Tom, if 
you are particularly desirous to take a run with the rest of 
the crew, I will stay and keep the boat myself; but you 
must not be gone above an hour." 

" Thank you, Harry," replied Tom, " that is just the 
thing I wanted this morning; you shall find me true to the 
time." Thus saying, with one spring he was on shore, and 
made all sail to join his shipmates. 

Harry, meanwhile, having struck the masts and spread 
the awning, proceeded to push out the boat from the noise 
and bustle at the landing-place, and then he sat down in the 
sternsheets ; and while some of the crowd on shore were 
buying, and some selling ; while fishwives were scolding, 
and lazy friars were begging; while many a seaman from 



4 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

the fleet was indulging in oaths and drunkenness in the 
wine-shops, and many were full of murmuring and discon- 
tent on board their respective ships; Harry Williams, I 
say, while all this was going on, sat down in the sternsheets 
of the Green Cutter, and taking his little Bible from the 
locker, with good-humor in his countenance, and peace and 
content in his heart, read with much delight of Him whom 
storms and winds obey, even of that Saviour who came into 
the world to save sinners ; of Him who had often covered 
his head in the day of battle. Thus occupied, he scarcely 
perceived how the time passed away, and was not a little 
surprised to hear Tom hail the boat so soon. 

Tom, indeed, could have found employment and diver- 
sion for half a dozen hours ; but, thoughtless as he was, he 
was yet too honest a fellow to break his word, or impose on 
the kindness of a friend. He had been absent his hour, al- 
though Harry thought it not more than half that time, and, 
therefore, he jumped into the foresheets, thanked the cock- 
swain for keeping her for him, and asked, whether he did 
not intend to go into the city. 

" No, Tom," replied the other, " I have nothing to do 
there to-day, and I think it's far more pleasant sitting here 
under the shade of this awning quietly reading, than to be 
strolling about yonder filthy streets in the midst of noise, 
and nonsense, and wickedness." 

Tom. Well, now, I don't think so. To be sure, Harry, 
you are a better scholar than I ; and what with your always 
reading when you have a little spare time, and what with 
your so often talking to the chaplain about the Bible, and I 
don't know what, why, you must needs know more about 
these things than myself; but still, Harry, I don't under- 
stand these religious ways. I think there are many things 
to be seen in the town, which please me better than keep- 
ing the boat ; and at any rate, I would sooner be moving 
about anywhere than sitting quietly here reading the Bible. 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 5 

Harry. That I don't doubt, Tom, because it is as you 
say, you don't understand these things : you don't know 
what religion is, or how it can make a man happier than 
fiddles and dancing, and noise and racket ; but the thing is 
true, although you do not understand it. You know, Tom, 
that I was once as madbrained and thoughtless a fellow as 
ever sailed out of Shields harbor. I have tried what grog 
and noise and songs and fiddles can do ; and now, Tom, 
whether you will believe me or not, I can say from experi- 
ence, that these things do not go half so far towards making 
a man happy, as religion does. This book tells me, and I 
find it to be true, that " the ways of wisdom are ways of 
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." 

Tom. As to believing what you say, Harry, I would 
take your word before any man's in the ship, except the 
chaplain's ; but after all, I don't understand, no, nor much 
like these ways. 

Harry. I am glad, Tom, to find you think so well of 
the chaplain, and I only wish you would attend more to his 
advice and instructions ; for I am sure he would be as ready 
to talk with you as with myself; and, as you can read a 
little, you might soon understand as much about these mat- 
ters as I can tell you. 

Tom. As to that, I don't know ; but about the chaplain, 
why every body must think well of such a man as he is ; 
for certain, he is going right before the wind to heaven : but 
still, Harry, I think he is too strict ; yet, 1 suppose, by and 
by, we should all like to be moored in the same harbor with 
him in kingdom- come. 

Harry. Yes, Tom, however men may now slight, and 
turn their backs upon heaven, the day is coming, when they 
will think very differently of it. Oh, what a sad hour will 
that be to many of our shipmates, when they come to die ! 
For I fear many will die as they are now living, quite un- 
concerned about their souls, and those things which God has 



Q CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

prepared for them that love him. Such men, Tom, will see 
that heaven, and have a view of the glory and blessedness 
which they slighted ; but they will not be able to enter into 
it. You, Tom, would, by your own confession, like to go 
with your chaplain by and by ; this, however, will not be 
allowed you, unless you endeavor now to live and act as he 
does. 

Tom. Why now, Harry, you don't want me to preach 
sermons, and to be always saying my prayers, do you ? 

Harry. No, Tom; for though you are a good foi'e- 
castleman, yet I think you would do very badly at preach- 
ing sermons. Nor do 1 want you to be always saying your 
prayers, as you call it ; for there are times and seasons for 
all things. If a squall were this night to part our cables ; or 
if, on going out to sea, an enemy was to heave in sight, I 
should be very sorry to find you stowed away, saying your 
prayers, when your duty would call you to cut away the 
sheet anchor, or to clear for action ? 

Tom. Well, then, what is it you mean ? 

Harry. I mean that you should fear God, as well as 
honor and serve the king ; that you should set your heart 
most on those things which are of the greatest value and 
consequence. I wish you to strive most after that which 
will make you most happy. 

Tom. All this seems reasonable and right enough. 
Now then, Harry, tell me plainly what is of the greatest 
consequence and value, and what will make me most happy; 
and you shall see TU set about the work directly. 

Harry. Well said. Now, then, mark my word : Eter- 
nity, and a future state of happiness in heaven, are things of 
the greatest consequence and value ; and the blessing of 
God to watch over us, and to keep and preserve us in all 
our ways, is such a happiness, amidst all the ups and downs 
of life, as the world can neither give nor take away. Now, 
Tom, you are a man of your word ; I hope you will keep 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. f 

your promise, and set about the work directly ; that is, I 
hope you will really consider and learn more about these 
matters from this day. 

Tom. Harry, you have got to windward of me here. 
No man can say I ever deceived him with false or empty 
promises. No ; Tom Brown's not the man to fly from his 
word ; but I didn't see where you were likely to reach on 
that tack, or I should have been more sparing with my 
promises. To be sure, the things seem right enough, as 
you say ; but when I begin to think of so considering the 
matter as to have my heart more set upon them than upon 
any thing else, I think I have promised more than I can 
perform. 

Harry. I know you have, Tom. You have indeed 
made a promise which no man in the ship can of himself 
keep and perform ; but you may get such assistance as will 
enable you to keep your word ; yes, and to obtain the bless- 
ing too. 

Tom. Are you sure of that, Harry ? 

Harry. Yes ; and if I were as sure of your having a 
desire for these blessings, as I am of your getting all needful 
assistance, I should think the business in a fair way of soon 
being brought about. 

Tom. Well, Harry, I can't say much about having a 
desire for these things ; yet when one sits down to think a 
little about the matter, why one can't help wishing that all 
may go well at last. I always thought that was a good 
song which says, " There's a sweet little cherub that sits 
up aloft, to keep watch o'er the life of poor Jack." I sup- 
pose that is what you mean ; but, Harry, who is that sweet 
little cherub that sits up aloft ? 

Harry. The child of a poet's fancy ; or, in plain 
words, just such a person as the man who made the song 
was pleased to invent ; but after all, the drift of that song is 
tolerably good ; for it means to say, there is a power above, 



g CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

which looks down and v»'atches over those who dwell on 
land and sea ; but if a man would understand these things 
aright, he must go to the Bible, where every thing concern- 
ing a future state, and also concerning how God's providence 
watches over us in this life, is plainly told us by God him- 
self, in the Bible, and in no other book like that. 

Tom. Avast, Harry ; you say, God himself tells us 
these things in the Bible. Why, it seems to me that the 
Bible itself tells us, and yet the chaplain often talks about 
the Lord's telling us these things in the Bible, and he calls 
the Bible " the word of God :" all this is like traverse sail- 
ing to me ; how do you make out these things ? 

Harry. I will try to clear up this point before we go 
any further. Here is my Bible : now all that you find here, 
from the first chapter of Genesis to the end of Revelation, 
was written down by Moses, David, Solomon, the prophets, 
the apostles, and other good men ; and all these writers put 
down just such things as God directed them, and no other ; 
and therefore, when what they had thus written down was 
collected into one book, the book was called " the Bible,'* 
or, "the word of God," because it contained such things as 
God himself had directed to be written down : do you under- 
stand me, Tom ? 

Tom. Yes, I quite understand this ; but when and how 
did God tell these men to put down what we find in the 
Bible ? 

Harry. At different times and in different ways. 
Sometimes he spake as it were in a voice from heaven ; 
sometimes he sent his angels to tell them ; sometimes he 
made these things known to them in the visions of the night ; 
at other times he put into their minds, without either visions 
or angels, what he would have them tell us. This last 
way, our chaplain says, is what is called " inspiration." 
And here, in 2 Tim. 3: 16, it is said that "aZZ Scripture 
is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 9 

doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in right, 
eousness." 

Tom. Well then, Harry, if this be the case, it must be 
a very foolish and a veiy bad thing to abuse the Bible ; and 
I am' sorry I ever made sport of it. But are you sure, 
Harry, that the Bible is indeed all true ; and that the men 
you named did write what God told them ? I don't know 
whether you ever heard of it or not ; but I can tell you 
some of the knowing ones on board do at times say, the 
Bible is a false and foolish book. Now, Harry, I should 
like to be told how I am to know which side to believe : 
how I am to know that the Bible is true. 

Harry. That's just the thing I sometime ago went to 
the chaplain about, and he told me, and moreover he wrote 
down in my book what he said would do to look at after- 
wards ; and it comes in nicely at this time. Here it is, I 
will read it. " Some perhaps may say. How am I to know 
that the Bible is true ? I will tell you how. Bad men could 
not write a book so plainly condemning all sin. Good men 
would not have deceived mankind by pretending that an 
invention of their own was a divine revelation ; especially 
when they were likely to get nothing by this deception but 
reproach, imprisonment, torture, and death. Its doctrines 
and precepts are evidently superior to all human wisdom, 
and they are directly contrary to that corruption of our 
nature, which impostors would indulge as means of gaining 
their ends. It gives you an account of various miracles 
which were wrought in the midst of vast multitudes. The 
religion of the Bible was, at the time of its being first pub- 
lished abroad, supported by these miracles ; and this relig- 
ion has ever since continued in the world. 

" There are also various prophecies in the Bible, which 
told of things which were to happen : such as, that the Jews 
should be scattered all over the world ; that Babylon should 
be destroyed, and that many other things should come to 

VOL. III. ^^ 



10 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

pass, which have already happened : and as these accounts 
were written long before the events to which they related 
could take place, their fulfilment afterwards is abundantly 
sufficient to satisfy every upright man respecting the truth 
of the Bible. These evidences have convinced the wise 
and good, in all ages, that it is true. And when once a man 
has experienced the power of the grace of God, in changing 
his heart by means of the Bible, he will then have the 
strongest evidence of all. ' He that belie veth hath the wit- 
ness in himself.' " Now, Tom, I will defy all the knowing 
ones in the ship, ay, and in the fleet too, to answer these 
observations. But w ho are they that want to persuade you 
the Bible is a false and foolish book ? 

Tom. Why there's that drunken swab, the captain of 
the mast, and Joe Long, of the gunner's crew, and some 
others. 

Harry. A fine set, indeed ! But, Tom, it is as the 
chaplain said, " Men are against the Bible, because the 
Bible is against their vile, ungodly conduct." As to the cap- 
tain of the mast, and Joe Long, they well know that if the 
Bible stands, they must fall if they continue to live at their 
present rate ; and seeing, Tom, they have no mind to alter, 
they wish to persuade themselves and others that the Bible 
is not true ; but they will one day find it is true, to their 
sorrow. I again say, let them answer what I read to you 
if they can. The Bible is the word of God. It is the only 
Compass and Chart by which we can safely steer across 
the ocean of life. You may believe what Joe Long says, 
if you please ; but, as for me, with the help of God, I will 
never direct my course by any other Chart, or steer by any 
other Compass. 

Tom. Nay, Harry, I'm not inclined to believe what 
they say, or do as they do. You certainly know much bet- 
ter, and act much better, than they. You have told me 
much, that I did not understand before ; and I think if some 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 



11 



of our lads understood more about these things, they would 
leave off talkmg against the Bible. 

Harry. I am not quite sure of that ; but whether they 
would leave off or not, I am sure it is, as you before said, 
both very foolish and very wicked to slight or neglect, much 
more scoff at, the word of God. If the admiral were to write 
several kind letters of instruction to you and me, and in 
these letters were to promise to give us, by and by, a snug 
house and home close to his own dwelling, and there to pro- 
vide for us through our old age, I dare say we should think 
it a great favor. Do you suppose if a few idle, drunken, 
reprobate fellows laughed at our letters, or scoffed at us for 
reading them, that we should tear them up, or throw them 
overboard ? 

Tom. No, Harry, they might laugh and scoff as long 
as they pleased ; but I think they would not make me tear 
up my letters, nor forget what was said and promised in 
them ; and I am sure I should be a great fool indeed, if, 
through their persuasion, I offended the admiral, and turned 
my back on his offered goodness. 

Harry. Well then, Tom, as in this case you see the 
thing in its true colors, and would act as a wise man, let me 
persuade you to act in the same way with respect to the 
Bible, and towards Him who is higher than all the admirals 
and kings of the earth. He, Tom, who inspired the proph- 
ets and apostles to write what you find in the Bible, is the 
same great and glorious Being who, as we say at church, 
" alone spreads out the heavens, and rules the raging of the 
sea, and hath encompassed the waters with bounds until day 
and night come to an end." O, Tom, how wonderful it is 
that he should stoop so low as to take notice of such crea- 
tures as you and me ; to order such blessed letters of in- 
struction and promises to be written for our learning and 
encouragement, in health, in sickness, and at death itself! 
We, Tom, and all the ship's company, are making the voy- 



J 2 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

age of life, and from the hour in which we were launched 
on this troubled ocean, we have, day after day, run out 
more and more of our distance, and are nearer every day 
to the end of our voyage ; but the great question is, 
Have we shaped our course by the Bible as our chart ? 
Have we steered our way by the word of God as our com- 
pass ? And have we good reason to believe that we shall, 
through God's help, hold on and make a good landfall at 
last, and so fetch into the haven of eternal rest ? This, 
Tom, is no trifling matter. When the voyage is done it 
cannot be run over again : whether it be well ended or not, 
it must remain for ever in the same state in which it was 
finished ; as the tree falls, so it lies ; as death leaves us, so 
judgment finds us; and our doom is fixed; nor can the 
price of a thousand worlds alter it. 

Tom. Ah, Harry, you was always a good-hearted fel- 
low, even before you turned to these religious ways. If I 
were as safe as you are, I should be well off; you are 
always doing somebody or other a good turn ; no doubt but 
you will make a good landfall ; but I fear the port of heaven 
lies too far to windward for poor Tom Brown ever to 
fetch it. 

Harry. Tom, I am glad to find you are likely to 
weather one danger, however, and it is no small one ; vast 
numbers have struck on it, and been lost. 

Tom. What is that, Harry ? I'm sure I don't know 
much about these dangers, or the way to escape them. 

Harry. It is the rock of vain confidence, or the think- 
ing ourselves in the fair way for heaven, and sure of making 
the port, when we are steering eight or ten points broad of 
the course. If you were this night to go and ask twenty of 
the greatest sinners in the ship where they expect to go 
when they die, I make no doubt but nineteen of them would 
say, " they hoped to be saved and go to heaven, as well as 
their neighbors." Thus, Tom, they rest in a false peace, 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 



la 



and encourage themselves in a vain confidence of doing 
well at last, although the word of God says, " The wicked 
shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget 
God." Psalm 9 : 17. Now, Tom, you seem to think that 
you have lived very forgetful of God ; you know that you 
have not' steered by the compass of his word, nor shaped 
your course by the Bible' as youf ohart : and !■ thinkyou 
have good sense enough to know that going on at this rate is 
not 'likely to take you to heaven. ' , . 

Tom. You say vei^y" -true, Harry. For though my 
heart is good at the bottom, yet I have sadly neglected and 
often scoffed at the Bible ;^ and^ indeed,- if all the 'nations 
thftt forget God are to be turned into hell, I am afrai-d things 
would go badly with me, if I- were to take mj departure to* 
nightv' ■..lt'U=-; v/,>ff. t-il?. lir u{^fjr: tin4\^r^}nr vwr d ■ >ur(w ;. 

Hakry. Indeed ji Tom, I am afraid so't for here it is 
said by Christ himself, " Except a man be born again, he 
cannot see the kingdom of GodJ' -" Except a man be born 
of water and of the S-piriti, he cannot enter into the kingdonrt 
of' God.':': John 3 : 3,'5. Now, Tom, I think you are not 
born: again of the Spirit; nayj I don't think you see any 
necessity for this second birth^ or even know any thing about 
the- matter^ i-wmf^'naun vn • ,o-..v-! > ^^-r t<r ^jf^i, v' ■ ■ 
-"Tom. Why, Harry, you are getting quite otit of my 
depth. I don't understand this j for I have often wondered 
what 'was. meant hjheitig- born again; can you tell m6^ 
Harry? ' For it seems necessary that a man s-hould know 
something about it^ seeing it is declared' that unless he is 
born again he cannot see the kingdom of heaven. • 

-' Harry. This point much puzzled me for some time; 
till our good chaplain explained it^and made it vety dlear 
to my mind:.;, but. I don't know whether T shall be able to 
explain it so clearly to you. First of all, however, let me 
set you right in another mistake. You talk about your 
heart being good at the bottom, and about my always having 
VOL. III. "21=^ 



24 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

had a good heart. This, Tom, is the doctrine of the world, 
and (too much) of our ship ; but it is not the doctrine of the 
Bible. You and I did not bring good hearts into the world 
with us, at least not better than David's was ; and here in 
the fifty-first Psalm, after having prayed the Lord to pardon 
his sins, he says in the fifth verse, " Behold, I was shapen in 
iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." Do you 
think, when we were born, that we brought more holy 
dispositions, and more heavenly thoughts and tempers into 
the world with us, than David did ? 

Tom. No, to be sure not. 

Harry. Well, then, instead of trying to make excuses 
for our bad conduct by saying, " Our hearts are good at the 
bottom," we should do like David ; that is, go and confess 
the worst of our case, and dive down to the bottom of the 
mischief, and say, " Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in 
sin did my mother conceive me." Tom, all the sin and 
evil which have filled, and which do now fill the world, 
all spring out of the evil of men's hearts. From the hour 
of our birth down to the threescore years and ten, we find 
our thoughts and desires cleave to and love the things of 
the world, and the ways which God has forbidden us. We 
every day ofTend against God's holy law, by leaving undone 
those things which we ought to have done ; and by doing 
those things which we ought not to have done. Nay, such 
is the state of man's heart by nature, that when left to itself 
it goes astray continually from God, like a lost sheep. Be- 
fore the old world was drowned, we find, in Genesis 6 : 5, 
that " God saw the wickedness of man was great in the 
earth, and that every imagination of the thouglits of his 
heart was only evil, and that continually." Nor is the ac- 
count of the present world of people any better ; for here in 
the fifty-third Psalm, second and third verses, David tells 
us, that God " looked down from heaven upon the children 
of men, to see if there were any that did understand, that 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. X5 

did seek God." But, Tom, see here, what was the case : 
" Every one of them," says this word of God, " every one 
of them is gone back ; they are aUogether become filthy : 
there is none that doeth good, no, not one." And to con- 
elude this matter, St. Paul, a thousand years after David's 
time, when writing to some who had changed their way, 
and were living a new sort of life, says, " You were dead 
in trespasses and sins ; and were by nature the children of 
wrath, even as others." Eph. 2 : 1, 3. Now, Tom, with- 
out turning to many other places, which I could easily do, 
these which I have shown you are sufficient to prove how 
mistaken you are, when you think your heart and mine are 
good by nature. 

Tom. Never in all my life did I think such things as 
these were in the Bible. Why, this is making me, and all 
the officers and men on board, almost as black-hearted as 
the devil himself To tell you the truth, I don't like it ; 
and yet it certainly is in the Bible, and I am afraid too 
much of it is true. Well, this is being in a sad plight 
indeed ; but come, it never shall be said that Tom Brown 
strikes while his head is above water. I'll set to and 
make myself better, and be more like you for the time to 
come. 

Harry. Did you make yourself at first, Tom ? Did 
you come into the world just when and how you pleased ? 

Tom. No, how could that be, man ? 

Harry. Nor can you, without God's help, make your- 
self over again a second time, any more than you could do 
it at first. Tom, the leopard cannot change its own spots, 
nor the black Ethiopian his skin. Nor will poor Tom 
Brown, without divine grace, change his heart, which 
by nature " is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked." 

Tom. You are the first man that ever charged me with 
having a deceitful heart. Harry, bad as 1 am, no person 



16 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

in the ship can say that Tom Brown ever deceived him. 
No, I hate deceit from my very soul. 

Harry. I don't mean to charge you with ever deceiv- 
ing any of your shipmates : 1 know you would sooner take 
a flogging than tell a lie, or deceive any man. But, Tom, 
while your heart scorns to deceive another, has it not long 
and often deceived yourself, in every thing concerning the 
nature of religion, the nature of the heart, the nature of 
heaven and of happiness ; concerning the way to procure 
them, and the time of setting about this important business ? 
Here is the place, Jeremiah 17 : 9, where it says, " The 
heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ; 
who can know it ?" God tells us the account, and then 
puts the question, " Who can know it ?" I remember my 
conscience often smote me, and made me say, ^' Well, I am 
determined to leave off these ways ; by and by I will set 
about and think, and act like some of our ship's company." 
But, alas ! my heart only deceived me, when it quieted my 
conscience with these empty promises; for, from time to 
time, I acted my old sins over again ; and again and again 
I said to myself, I will do so no more. My heart trusted 
in its own strength, loved its own ways, and always was 
saying, " Things are good at the bottom." Now, Tom, can 
you pretend to say your heart has never: deceived yon in 
these things? Can you tell how often and to what length 
it has done so ? If you. can, then answer the .question which 
says, <' Who can know it ?" 

,■ - .Tom., If this be what you mean,. or rather what the 
Bible means, by the. heart being deceitful, why,, Harry, J 
feel it is true, and the matter is only becoming worse and 

"Worse. '■-■■■■- ! ■ , r,:,i : 

'> -Harry. . Now then, Torn,' let us go back to the point 
we left, about being bom again. This expression means 
that a great change must pass upon a man, upon every man, 
before he can enter into the kingdom of heaven : it is such 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 17 

a change as none but God can bring about, for it brings a 
man from desiring and seeking after earthly things as the 
greatest and most desirable objects, to desire and seek after 
heaven and the salvation of his soul as the one thing most 
needful ; so that it is in fact as if a man's old heart had 
been taken out, and a new one put in its place ; and there- 
fore this change is sometimes called being born again, or 
being born of the Spirit, because the Spirit of God brings 
the thing to pass. And the reason is very clear why we 
must undergo this change : God is a Holy God, Christ is a 
Holy Saviour, Heaven is a holy place, the Angels are holy, 
and all those happy souls who have died in the faith and 
love of the Son of God are there holy also. There, Tom, 
in heaven, it is the eternal delight of all to adore and praise 
him who sits upon the throne, and it is the delight of God 
himself to dwell in the midst of that holy, happy company. 
Now, Tom, none of our jovial fellows, as they are called, 
would love such company, or such employment as this. Do 
you think that the man who takes delight in drinking, 
swearing, or any sinful pleasure and practice, would be 
comfortable in heaven ? No, for he would not be able to 
find one angel or one soul who would keep him company. 
He would be like a fish out of water ; and could he do it, 
he would fly back to his old companions, and leave heaven 
to those who loved such like doings as praising and adoring 
God : for you know these things do not delight the soul of 
an unconverted man, that is, of a man who has not expe- 
rienced that change which is called being born again. And 
therefore we are again brought back to the words of our 
Saviour, " Except a man be born of the Spirit, he cannot 
enter into the kingdom of God." He is not a fit companion 
for those that are there, neither are they such as would 
please and delight him. 

Tom. Well, I understand more about this than I ever 
did before, and I think it must be as you say. Such like 



IQ CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

fellows as myself and many of the crew, would make but 
poor company for angels in heaven. But, Harry, if I set 
about and pray to God, and get my heart made better, then 
you know I shall live a better life, and I hope I shall at last 
deserve to go to heaven, although I never expect to do so 
well as David, or St. Paul, or our chaplain. 

Harry. If you do pray sincerely, and in earnest, for 
the Spirit of God to sanctify your heart, you will certainly 
have your request granted, and then no doubt but your 
thoughts, your words and actions, will be better than they 
were before ; but still you cannot deserve heaven, nor ever 
get there on account of your own deeds and doings. 

Tom. Why, now you are getting me hard and fast 
aground again ; almost before I was afloat, and clear of the 
last knotty point. At this rate you will shut the port of 
heaven against all the men in the fleet. Why ! don't you, 
Harry, expect that your deeds and doings will get you to 
heaven ? Don't you think our chaplain deserves to go to 
heaven for all the good and kind things he says and does 
every day ? I think you are ahead of your reckoning now. 
There's your Bible ; now tell me, either with or without 
its assistance, why a man's good deeds and doings cannot 
deserve heaven, after God has changed his heart. 

Harry. Because these deeds are so imperfect, so 
mixed with sin, that even David and St. Paul, and all the 
good men we read of in the Bible, never thought of getting 
to heaven on account of their deservings. 

Tom. This is very strange. Come, show me this from 
the Bible, and then tell me why it is, that the actions of such 
men cannot get them to heaven. 

Harry. Well then, here, in Psalm 143 : 2, David, 
sensible of the imperfection of his best services, prays to 
the Lord, and says, " Enter not into judgment with thy 
servant ; for in thy sight shall no man living be justified :" 
that is, as the chaplain explained it, "Do not, O Lord, judge 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 19 

or try me according to my deserts, for then neither myself 
nor any man can be cleared or pardoned." And again, in 
Psalm 130 : 3, he said, " If thou, Lord, shouldest mark 
iniquity, O Lord, who shall stand ?" And as to the Prophet 
Isaiah, when speaking of himself and the very best people 
of his nation, he says, Isaiah 64 : 6, " We are all as an 
unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy 
rags." St. Paul was once very conceited, and thought he 
had been so strict, and had got so many good actions to take 
him to heaven, that he should be sure of getting a good berth 
there. But, Tom, when he saw the real value of all his 
own actions, then he both thought and spake differently of 
them ; he no longer boasted of, or trusted in any thing that 
he had done, but he gave up all, and gladly cast his soul 
on the Lord Jesus Christ, to be saved by him, and through 
what this Saviour had done for sinners. Here, in Philip- 
pians 3 : 7, he says, " What things were gain to me," that 
is, Tom, what things he (St. Paul) thought so good, and 
trusted so much to, once, " those I counted loss for Christ. 
Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excel- 
lency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom 
I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but 
dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not hav- 
ing mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that 
which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which 
is of God by faith." Thus, Tom, you see that those good 
men, who certainly were better livers than any among us, 
did not expect to get to heaven because they deserved it. 
No, they knew that they had done many things which they 
ought not to have done, and had left undone much that they 
ought to have performed. And, moreover, they knew that 
if they had done all which has been commanded, yet they 
would still have been unprofitable servants ; and this con- 
viction fastens on every man, as soon as his eyes are open 
and his heart is softened by the Spirit of God. 



20 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 



When a man's heart is changed, he, as I said before, 
does indeed act and think far diiferently from what he did 
before, and he steers a far better course ; but, alas ! Tom, 
the best course that any man ever steered towards heaven 
was but a sorry one. It is with the real Christian as it is 
with a man at the helm ; he watches every motion, and sees 
every coming up and falling otf of the vessel, while those 
between decks are ignorant how she goes. You, Tom, are 
a good helmsman, and yet you know that, with all your 
care and eyes about you, when steering before a hard gale 
and heavy sea, you cannot keep the ship from yawing to 
starboard or port of her true course. Now and then, in- 
deed, for a little while, she may run quietly, and " steady, 
boy, steady," is the word ; but in how short a time she is 
running broad again ! And as soon as the helm meets her 
one way, she is flying off too much the other, and some- 
times it is as much as you can do to prevent her broaching 
to. Just so it is, when a man sets about steering his heart, 
his thoughts, his words, and works, by the compass of God's 
holy word. He wishes all to be what his kind and gracious 
Father in heaven would have it. He comes up, as it were 
from the blindness and unconcern of a sleeper between 
decks : he watches all that passes within and without him, 
and longs that all may go on in a straight and even course 
towards the port of heaven ; but, alas ! he perceives many a 
thwartino; current. He finds ten thousand hinderances from 
the world, the flesh, and Satan, which, like the swell of a 
heavy sea, continue to follow him every minute ; and these 
make his spiritual course very wide of what it should be, 
and of what he earnestly desires it to be ; so that he is sure 
his best performances are not, cannot be worth heaven. 
Whatever the unconcerned and unconverted sleeper below 
may think, he cannot go with his goodness in his hand, and 
say, " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lifted up, 
ve everlasting doors, and let a good-hearted man come in." 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 



21 



No, he casts away all such empty and presumptuous trust, 
and looks to God for pity and pardon on some other account 
than that of his own good heart or good actions. He feels 
what St. Paul felt, that, " when he would do good," when 
he would give himself up wholly and continually to God, 
"evil is still present with him;" and, like the apostle, he 
sometimes groans under the burden of remaining sin, and 
exclaims, " O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver 
me from the body of this death?" 

Tom. Harry, I am satisfied that I shall no longer be 
puffed up with the pride and vanity of thinking my heart 
is good. God knows that things are as you have described 
them. I begin to see and feel that this pretended good 
heart of mine has all my life been as constantly turning to 
evil as the needle to the North and South. And if such 
altered men as you, and the chaplain, and St. Paul can 
never get to heaven by your works, what must become of 
me? 

Harry. You must fly for shelter to him who is able 
and willinor to save. You must cro to Him to whom St. Paul 
went, and in whose robe alone he wished to be clothed, 
to Him to whom our kind chaplain tells us that he looks 
for his own salvation, and unto whom he so earnestly en- 
treats us all to go. He can, he will, save to the uttermost 
all who really and truly seek his salvation. 

Tom. Who is it ? Tell me, Harry. Oh ! if I was sure 
he would look favorably on me, I would go to him, though 
a hundred four-and-twenty pounders were turned against 
me. 

Harry. As to his willingness to receive and to save 
your soul, there can be no doubt, if you are but willing to 
be saved by Him alone, as a lost sinner. For he came into 
the world to save sinners, to seek and to save them that are 
lost ; and he invites all who are burdened and heavy laden 
to come unto him, and promises to give them rest. You 
VOL. III. 23 



22 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT.. 

ask who it is? Why, man, it is the Lord Jesus Christ, 
the same of whom our chaplain speaks in all his sermons 
and his conversations with us. Don't you recollect how 
he preached about him last Sunday, from Acts 4 : 12 ? 
" Neither is there salvation in any other ; for there is none 
other name given under heaven, whereby we can be saved." 
Don't you recollect how he told us that " this blessed Sav- 
iour was the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that no man 
could come to God but by him?" Why, Tom, I thought 
it was enough to warm every heart, when he showed how 
Jesus Christ came from heaven, and suffered and died in 
our stead, and how he now reigns in heaven to hear our 
prayers, and to pardon our past sin ; how he sits at the 
right hand of God to send down the Holy Spirit on purpose 
to change our hearts, and to instruct and strengthen, lead 
and comfort us, through all our days of health and sickness, 
through life and in death, even until he receives us into 
glory. Were you asleep, Tom, or did you not hear what 
he said ? 

Tom. I was not asleep, but I was worse : I was think- 
ing about other things, and neither heard, nor understood 
much of what he said ; though now you mention these 
things, I recollect he told us of some such matters. But 
then, you know, if I had been seen attending much to them, 
my messmates would have laughed at me, and therefore I 
have gone on from week to week, disregarding every thing 
about my soul, just as though I had no soul at all. 

Harry. Ah, Tom, I know what it is to be carried down 
that current. I was long as negligent a hearer as yourself, 
and as much afraid of a laugh as any man could be ; but, 
thank God, I have, in a great measure, got out of these 
snares. Nay, I can tell you, that at the time when I nei- 
ther knew nor cared about my soul, or about heaven, or 
the tender mercies of God my Saviour, the devil put it into 
my head to think that religion was a sad, mopisli, melan- 



CONVERSATION I^ A BOAT. 



23 



choly thing, quite unfit for a lad of any spirit, and that it 
was a kind of disgrace to be seen reading the Bible. 

Tom. Why that's just what I always thought; but 
since you have been talking to me, I feel convinced that a 
man should take care of his soul, although every person in 
the ship laugh at him ; for surely, if a person gets to heaven 
at last, it will make up for all his sorrows and sufferings 
in this world. 

Harry. No doubt of that, Tom. But I perceive you 
still think there is something sorrowful and gloomy about 
religion. Now tell me plainly, Tom, don't you think there 
is something dull and melancholy in the Bible ? 

Tom. Yes, Harry, I do ; though after what you have 
said about its being the word of God, I feel I ought to re- 
gard it very much ; yet I don't know how it is, but I think 
1 can never delight in it as you do. 

Harry. Well, Tom, I think otherwise. I hope and 
trust the time will soon come when you will read your 
Bible, not as a boy reads his task-book, but with delight, 
with prayer and with praise. No doubt, Tom, when a man 
first discovers his dangerous state, as a poor, helpless, un- 
done sinner, he will be concerned. No doubt, when he 
learns that " the wicked shall be turned into hell, and all 
the people that forget God," he will be much perplexed and 
troubled about his soul, and joy and peace be far from him. 
I hope you will be led to see more of your need of a Sav- 
iour, more of the nature of heaven, more of the vileness of 
sin, more of the vanity of every thing this world has to offer. 
I hope you will be led to feel more of your own weakness 
and proneness to depart from the living God ; and then, 
Tom, you will undoubtedly be more thoughtful than you 
ever were before, and your heart may sometimes be cast 
down with sorrow. But, if you sincerely pray to God for 
help and instruction, if you do indeed set yourself to over- 
come your sins, and live to that Saviour who loved you, and 



24 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

gave himself for you ; then, Tom, you will surely obtain a 
portion of that inward peace which the world can neither 
give nor take away. You will not indeed join the drunken, 
noisy, profane companions of your past days ; for their en- 
joyments will no longer suit you. But you will have more 
comfort, and experience more happiness and joy, in the 
society of Christians, and in reading the word and singing 
the praises of God your Redeemer, than any of these noisy 
men ever did, or ever will, experience in their sinful mirlh. 
Remember, Tom, that you have a soul which must be hap- 
py for ever in heaven, or miserable for ever in hell. If, 
therefore, the saving of your soul involved you in wretch- 
edness all your lifetime, it would be your duty and wisdom 
to encounter that wretchedness. But this can never be : 
the ways of " w^isdom," as I have already reminded you, 
"are ways of pleasantness." Satan will tell you that re- 
ligion is a gloomy thing. O, Tom, never was any thing 
more false, than such a report. For myself I can say, I 
have never been so happy as since I have learnt that " Je- 
sus Christ came into the world to save sinners." Do you 
think, Tom, that my religion has made me wretched ? 

Tom. No, Harry, I am certain it has not. To be sure, 
you don't rant'and sin between decks, or dance and drink 
in the gin-shop, like many others, but then I have often 
wondered to see how you bear with cross and vexatious 
things ; you are always in a good temper ; every thing 
seems to go smoothly with you ; and though some of our 
foolish fellows call you over-religious, yet all the officers, 
and most of the crew, think and speak well of you. 

Harry. I have great cause to be thankful for the kind- 
ness I meet with from my shipmates and from the officers ; 
but, Tom, I have greater comforts than these. I have got 
my crosses and trying things to meet with, as well as other 
men ; but here is my comfort, God enables me to bear them 
much better than I once did. Through the help of God, I 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 25 

have overcome the sins of drinking, and swearing, and dis- 
content, and I feel happy in that station, and in that lot 
which his infinite wisdom has appointed for me; for he 
has promised that all things shall work together for good to 
them that love him. This, Tom, was not the case before I 
learned somewhat of my own heart from the Bible. No, I 
well remember how my mind fretted against God, and how 
I considered myself unjustly dealt with by him, when his 
providence permitted me to be pressed and torn away from 
my dear Jane, so soon after our marriage. I was long dis- 
contented with and hated every thing and every body on 
board a man-of-war. Grog then became my stupifying friend, 
or rather my worst enemy, and it often brought me almost to 
the gangway ; thus I went on in a course most wretched 
and most sinful, until God in mercy showed me the state 
of my heart, and the danger of my soul, and at length gave 
me the comfortable hope that he had pardoned my sins, and 
was willing to receive me into his everlasting kingdom. 
Then, Tom, every thing put on a different appearance ; I 
saw I had many blessings and comforts beyond thousands 
of mankind. I blessed his holy name for sending me where 
1 could hear the Gospel of his dear Son, and for thus making 
the very place I so much disliked, the place where my soul 
should be brought to seek its everlasting peace. Since that 
time, things have gone on, as you said, more smoothly than 
ever they did before ; my Jane has become a Christian, and 
though I can but seldom see her, her letters continue to in- 
struct and comfort me. Our greatest delight on earth would 
be to dwell much together ; but the providence of God sees 
fit, at present, to deny this. Still we encourage each other 
to wait patiently his time ; and the Bible has taught both 
her and me to look beyond the present life, with hope and 
confidence, that after a few short years we shall meet to part 
no more. We are not the only pair who are separated by 
the present state of the times. War and its evils are now 
VOL. III. 2*2* 



20 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

desolating many a country, separating many friends, and 
filling the hearts of many families with troubles, greater, 
Tom, than any of yours or mine. But then, this blessed 
Bible, this book which you think is like to make a man mel- 
ancholy, this, Tom, informs us, and I firmly believe its 
report, that by and by, " Swords shall be beaten into plough- 
shares, and spears into pruning-hooks ; that nation shall not 
lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war 
any more." Isaiah 2:4. Is this melancholy news? 

Tom. Harry, your talk makes me feel I don't know 
how ; I wish I was like you. What a fool I have been to 
think such things about religion and the Bible as have been 
in my mind ! I always thought you had the best wife of 
any man in the ship, but yet I thought she would have been 
better without so much religion ; now I perceive it is relig- 
ion which has made her so much better than the others, and 
you so much happier than myself. I think I would sail all 
around the world for such a wife ; but then, if I found one, 
she would not be taken in tow by such a wicked wretch as 
Tom Brown. 

Harry. Don't be disheartened, Tom ; if you do but seek 
first and most earnestly the kingdom of God and his right- 
eousness, all other things will be added unto you ; for so 
runs the promise of God himself. Matt. 6 : 33. And when 
you get a virtuous, godly wife, many a shilling will stay in 
your pocket, which now finds its way out; and many a 
temptation will be removed, which now presses hard upon 
you. 

Tom. All this I believe, and the sooner it happens the 
better ; but, Harry, when is that piece of joyful news to be 
told the world ? Do you expect to see the day when there 
shall be no more war ? 

Harry. Perhaps not ; it is not said when the thing will 
happen, only that it is to come to pass. It may be my lot 
ere then to fall in defence of my country ; but this does not 



CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 27 

trouble me. Others that come after will see and enjoy- 
that blessed season, while I shall be still more blessed than 
they, because, I trust, I shall be with the Lord in that king, 
dom — 

" Where all the ship's company meet, 

Who sailed with their Saviour beneath ; 
Where, shouting, each other they greet, 
And triumph o'er sorrow and death. 

The voyage of life then will end. 

And mortal affliction be past ; 
The age that in heaven we spend, 

For ever, and ever, will last." 

My present chief concern, therefore, is, to be found at my 
post ; as a man, doing my duty to my king and country ; 
and as a Christian, standing with my lamp trimmed and 
my light burning, that in whatever way my Lord may call 
me hence, I may be ready to obey the summons. Thus I 
am delivered from all distracting anxiety about life, and 
from all fear and dread of death. I am thankful for my 
many mercies and comforts, and I am enabled to bear up 
with tolerable ea'se under occasional hardships and trials. 
Therefore, Tom, if you should live to see me fall in action, 
or in any other way, never let it be said that religion and 
the Bible unfitted Harry Williams for doing his duty, or 
made him wretched and melancholy. But here come the 
officers and boat's crew ; be smart, and toss up the mast ; 
we shall be ofT directly. 



28 CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

SECURE ANCHORAGE. 



Now I have found the blessed ground, 
Where my soul's anchor may remain ; 

The Lamb of God, who for my sin 

Was from the world's foundation slain : 

Whose mercy shall unshaken stay. 

When heaven and earth are fled away. 

O love ! thou bottomless abyss ! 

My sins are swallowed up in thee ; 
Covered is my um-ig-hteousness, 

From condemnation now I'm free ; 
While Jesus' blood, tlirough earth and skies, 
" Mercy, free, boundless mercy !" cries. 

With faith I plunge me in the sea ; 

Here is my hope, my joy, my rest! 
Hither, when hell assails, I flee. 

And look unto my Saviour's breast : 
Away, sad doubt, and anxious fear, 
Mercy is only written there ! 

• 
Though waves and storms go o'er my head. 

Though strengtli, and health, and friends be gone 
Though joys be withered all, and dead. 

Though every comfort be withdrawn ; 
Steadfast on tliis my soul relies, 
Fatlier, thy mercy never dies. 

Fixed on this ground I will remain. 
Though my heart fail, and flesh decay ; 

This anchor shall my soul sustain. 
When earth's foundations melt away : 

Mercy's full power I then shall prove ; 

Loved with an everlasting love. 



IVo. 88, 



THE SHIPMATES. 



A SUPPLEMENT TO 



THE TRACT ENTITLED CONVERSATION IN A BOAT. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOU, 

FORMERLY A riEUTEKANT IN THE ROYAL NAVT. 




Perhaps the reader may have seen a Tract entitled ^'Con- 
versation in a Boat, hetween two Seamen,^' named Harry Wil- 
liams and Tom Brown, when they belonged to the happy 
Repulse. - Now, if he has read that account, he will have 
learned that the Repulse had a fine young man for her chap- 
lain, and that many of the officers and seamen delighted in 
seeing the church rigged out on Sundays, and in frequently 
looking into their Bibles, when duty and circumstances would 
admit ; so that the Repulse's crew were well acquainted with 
what was right and good ; nay, the reader will remember 
that they not only had a knowledge of these things, but that 
they acted agreeably to the principles of the Bible. 



2 THE SHIPMATES. 

1 know it seems strange with some officers and men, how 
religion can make a place or people happy ; yet the thing 
is true : for the religion that was on board the Repulse, had 
so cured the greater part of her crew of getting groggy, 
using bad language, and neglecting their duty, that it was 
a rare thing to see a man in irons, or brought to the gang- 
way. At first, indeed, the officers hardly knew what to 
think of such religious ways ; but, by and by, they found 
so many of the crew leave off their bad tricks, that they 
were forced to say, religion had done them good. In short, 
the duty, both at sea and in harbor, went on so well, that, 
from the captain down to the youngest midshipman, the 
officers were quite proud of the men, and the men were 
very fond of their officers. But it must not be thought that 
all hands were religious : no ; for there were many on 
board who still loved their old ways, though they were a 
little ashamed and a good deal afraid to be seen pursuing 
them, since things went on so quiet and orderly about them. 

Harry Williams, as the reader may recollect, was 
quarter-master and cockswain of the Green Cutter ; Tom 
Brown belonged to the same boat, and pulled the stroke-oar. 
Harry was as fine a seaman as ever took a marlinespike 
in hand ; and, as may be seen from the account there given 
of him, he was a very sensible and godly young man, and 
much respected by all the officers. Poor Tom Brown was 
a thoughtless, and what the world calls, a jovial fellow, 
never so happy as when he could get into a grogshop, to 
dance, and sing, and fool away his money. As to anotlier 
world, or what might befall him on the morrow, he left 
these matters to other people, to think of as they pleased : 
his cry was, " A merry life, and a short one." In this way 
Tom went on for some time, until Harry Williams got into 
conversation with him one day at Lisbon, where the boat 
was waiting for the officers. 



THE SHIPMATES. 3 

That conversation, which is put down in the little book 
mentioned above, made Tom begin to think in earnest about 
another world, as well as this ; and, as he frequently after- 
wards got into chat with the cockswain, and other serious 
men, on the subject of religion and a future judgment, he, 
by the grace of God, became more and more an altered 
man, until it was plain to all on board, that he not only did 
his duty like a good and brave seaman, but that he honored, 
loved, and served God, and took great delight in reading 
his Bible, and attending on the instructions of their good 
chaplain, whenever he could. This was as it should be ; 
but I am sorry to say, it was what some of the crew did 
not like. In that number was Joe Long, who belonged to 
the gunner's crew\ Fie was a sad, reprobate fellow, and 
always tried to turn religion and the Bible into ridicule ; 
and so he continued until peace, when the ship was paid 
off, and all hands were separated. 

When the Repulse went into port, to strip and return 
her stores, the captain advised the crew to remit all their 
wages home, excepting what was necessary to bear their 
expenses on the road. This all the serious men did : and, 
as soon as they were landed, and had shaken hands, and 
wished each other God speed, they shaped their various 
courses towards their respective homes. Some of the crew, 
however, would not act so wisely. Joe Long, and several 
more of his sort, regarded neither the captain's advice nor 
the kind chaplain's parting admonition, to go home and com- 
fort their old fathers and mothers with some of their money. 
They would take all their wages at the pay-table, and stay, 
and have fine doings before they parted. So they remained 
at Portsmouth, till some had spent the greater part of what 
they had received, and others had either got through the 
whole, or had it picked out of their pockets. 

As for Joe Long, he was not sober for a week, and per- 



4 THE SHIPMATES. 

haps would not have been for a fortnight, had not his wicked 
female companions robbed him of all that was left ; and 
then, having no more dollars to hand over to his landlady, 
he was soon turned out of doors, and reduced to sobriety 
against his will. In this situation he remained for some 
time, making it out as well as he could, by getting a lift 
from one old acquaintance and another, until they had all 
moved off, and left him without a single person to pity or 
relieve his case. About that time a vessel was on the point 
of sailing for Bristol, Joe's native place ; and, as he begged 
very hard to be taken on board for his victuals, the captain 
gave him a passage, out of mere pity, seeing what a miser- 
able plight he was in. Joe had often, in his life, wished 
for a fair wind to blow him into port ; but now he was truly 
sorry to find himself so soon at his destination. He was 
ashamed to go home, and a berth was not to be got on board 
any vessel in the port. 

The chaplain of the Repulse had again and again re- 
minded him and the rest of the crew, that " those who de- 
spise the counsel of the Lord, shall eat of the fruit of their 
own way, and be filled with their own devices," Prov. 1:31; 
and now that verse seemed to tingle in his ears, which is in 
the fourth chapter of Jeremiah, " Thy way and thy doings 
have procured these things unto thee ; this is thy wicked- 
ness, because it is bitter, because it reached unto thy heart ;" 
and truly he found it so. For here he was without money, 
without a berth, without lodgings, and often without food, 
with no clothes but what he had on his back, and these he 
had spoiled and torn in his drunken bouts at Portsmouth. 
Poor Joe ! you might have seen him wandering about the 
quay, sometimes getting a job for a day, or half a day, and 
then none at all. As to lodgings, as I said, he had none, 
having no money, and being ashamed to go home to his 
poor parents, who were expecting him to come and assist 



THE SHIPMATES. 5 

them with some part of his two years' pay, which they 
knew he had to receive. This being the case, he was 
forced to look out at nights for some shed, or lee corner, to 
lie down under, till, what with half starving by day, and 
want of lodgings at night, he soon began to look more like a 
ghost than like Joe Long. 

Things were, however, going on very differently with 
Harry Williams and Tom Brown. Harry had formerly 
served his time out of Shields ; but, for some time before 
he was pressed, he had sailed out of Bristol, where he 
married his excellent little Jane. Of course, to Bristol he 
directed his way as soon as he was clear of the Repulse. 
Tom Brown, having lost his father and mother while a lad, 
and being still a single man, cared little more for one port 
than another ; and being so fond of Harry's company and 
conversation, he was unwilling to part with him, even 
when they came on shore. Well, what does he do, but 
takes coach with Harry ; and down to Bristol they both 
steered, and fetched that place in less than twenty-four 
hours' run. 

And now the reader will perceive the truth of what the 
Bible says, that " Godliness is profitable unto all things, 
having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is 
to come." 1 Tim. 4 : 8. Yes, let foolish and profane fel- 
lows think or say as they please, Godliness does well for a 
man now, and will do better for him hereafter. Harry had 
received such good certificates from the officers, that some 
pious merchants in the city rejoiced to stand his friend ; the 
consequence of this was, that, in less than a week, he got a 
first mate's berth on board the Good Intent, a fine ship of 
nearly five hundred tons burthen, in the American trade ; 
and, as the captain, with whom he now lived and messed, 
was a religious man, Harry was as comfortable as the days 
were long. Nor did he forget his old shipmate, Tom 

VOL. III. 'J3 



6 THE SHIPMATES. 

Brown ; but recommended him to the captain, and got him 
shipped as sail-maker on board the same vessel. And thus 
Tom not only got a good berth, but had his heart's desire, 
in again being shipmate with his old friend Harry, or rather 
Mr. Williams, as we now ought to call him. All this fell 
out in consequence of these two men being serious Chris- 
tians; for the merchant who owned the Good Intent was 
determined not to bring a curse on his ship and cargo, by 
putting them into the hands of a set of blaspheming repro- 
bates of officers and men, when he could get persons of 
Christian character to go on board. 

While the Good Intent was lying at the wharf, taking 
in her cargo for New York, one evening, as Tom Brown 
was going into the city, whom should he meet but his old 
shipmate, Joe Long ! At first Tom hardly knew him ; so 
thin in the face, so dirty and miserable in his whole appear- 
ance was he, that he looked, as I said before, more like a 
ghost than like what he was when on board the Repulse. 

" What !" said Tom, " is this Joe Long ? Joe, my lad, 
what cheer ?" 

Joe was quite taken aback at this unexpected meeting ; 
for he was as much ashamed of his miserable appearance 
and condition as he was rejoiced to fall in with one, who, he 
hoped, would give him a shilling ; so that he did not answer 
directly. 

Tom, however, being now sure of his man, seized his 
hand, and shook it heartily, saying, " Joe, my boy, I'm glad 
to see you ; though, by your rigging, I fear you have had 
but rough times of it since we left the Repulse." 

" Rough indeed, Tom," replied Joe ; " here I am, no 
money, no ship, no lodgings, no friends, living on short 
allowance one day, and the next without any thing to eat. 
Rough times indeed, Tom. Who would have thought I 
should so soon have come to this ? I am quite weak and 



THE SHIPMATES. Y 

faint for want of food ; and every bone in my body aches, 
with laying on the ground at nights, without a hammock or 
covering." 

Tom Brown was no chicken-hearted fellow. The reader 
may be sure, that all the threats of Bonaparte's army could 
not have forced a tear down his face ; but, when he sur- 
veyed poor Joe from stem to stern, and heard him tell such 
a mournful tale, a big tear stood in his eyes, and he drew 
his jacket-sleeve across his face, to rub off that tear which 
was about to roll down his manly cheek. Knowing, how- 
ever, that pity of itself can never feed the hungry or clothe 
the naked, without further ceremony he seized Joe by the 
arm, pulling him along, and saying, at the same time, 
" Thanks be to God, I have got some shot still in the locker ; 
come along, my boy, to the next eating-house, and get what- 
ever will do you good." 

This was a welcome invitation, indeed, and most readily 
complied with. Tom did not interrupt him by conversation 
while he was eating, unless to insist upon it that he should 
not spare the rump of beef. But, though Tom did not as 
yet say much, he thought a good deal, and could not help 
lifting up his heart to God, and thanking him that his mercy 
and providence had provided him with food and raiment, a 
good ship, and a Bible hope that, when he had done the 
voyage of life, his soul would be for ever happy in heaven. 
Nor could he cast a look on poor Joe without offering up 
a silent prayer that the prodigal might be brought to his 
right mind, and be received into his heavenly Father's house. 

At length the rump of beef being removed, and the 
decks cleared, Tom put a number of questions to Joe, and- 
received the whole account of his Portsmouth frolic, how 
the sharks had robbed him, and turned him out of doors, 
and how he had gone on, up to that very evening ; conclud- 
ing what he had said, by honestly telling Tom, that he had 



g THE SHIPMATES. 

often slighted both him and his good advice, when on board 
the Repulse, but that he had often, since that time, felt how- 
much better it would have been for him had he followed it : 
and he hoped the other would forget and forgive all that was 
past. 

" Well, Joe," replied Tom, " as to all your former 
slights of my advice, since I only persuaded you for your 
own good, I never felt any other than sorry for you when 
you disregarded what I said ; and I am sure this is no time 
to be angry, even if you had really offended me ; for I am 
much grieved to see you in such a trim. Joe, I am sorry 
for you, both with respect to your soul and your body ; and 
I wish that matters could as easily be put to rights in the 
one as in the other ; but sit you still, I'll be with you again 
directly." 

Here Tom got up, and going into another room, ordered 
a person to go, with the key of his chest, immediately on 
board the Good Intent, with directions for the second mate 
to send a shirt, jacket, handkerchief, pair of stockings, and 
trowsers. This done, he again returned to his companion, 
and continued : 

" Joe, I wish you well, and always did so, even when 
you set yourself so much against our good chaplain's advice, 
and the little I sometimes said to you. And now my heart 
and my pocket are open to serve you. But I must again 
repeat the old story, that, however you may now rub through 
the difficulties of this world, if you do not turn to God, and 
repent you of your sins, if you do not get them blotted out 
in the blood of God's dear Son, and receive from him a 
new heart, your soul will be lost for ever ; and that will be 
worse than all the hardships and difficulties which you have 
suffered, or can ever suffer, in this life. I can't talk to you 
about these things like Harry Williams ; but, Joe, it grieves 
me to see a young fellow like you ruining both soul and 



'J^HE SHIPMATES. 9 

body by turning your back on the Bible, and on Jesus Christ, 
and what he has done for sinners. Many a man has done 
so before you ; but, here is the evil, many of them stayed 
till they were in hell before they repented it, and there sor- 
row for sin comes too late." 

Joe replied, " I know all this is right and true. I know 
very well, that had I taken the advice I so often received 
from one and the other on board the Repulse, I should 
not have been as I now am. It has cut me to the heart, 
since then, to think how I scorned my best friends. Yes, 
Tom, when I have been strolling about the quay, hungry 
and pennyless, and when I have been shivering on the 
ground at night, I have often thought of my sad conduct on 
board the Repulse, and I have said to myself, God has 
brought it home to me at last." 

" Indeed, Joe," said Tom, " it looks like it. I don't 
wish to upbraid you, or to say any thing unkind ; but you 
know how sadly you used to laugh at the Bible, and at all 
who read and loved it ; and now it does seem as though 
God had brought things home to you at last. I say this, 
Joe, to make you sensible how much you have injured 
yourself, and stood in your own light, by fighting against 
God." 

" I know it, Tom," replied Joe. " I have made God 
my enemy by standing out against him, when my own con- 
science told me you were right and I was wrong. I fol- 
lowed the counsel and company of those who told me that 
they were my friends, and that they would show me how to 
live a happy life ; and now I find, to my sorrow, that their 
ways led to poverty and shame here, and, moreover, set a 
man in the fair road for that wretchedness in another world, 
which I once latighed at, but which I now believe to be 
intolerable. I have found, to my sorrow, that while a man 
lias got money to squander, he is sure to have many who 
VOL. III. 23* 



10 THE SHIPMATES. 

call themselves his friends ; but, Tom, when the money is 
gone, the friends soon go too. See how they have served 
me. See what happiness they have led me to, and how 
they have stood by me in distress ! ' A friend in need is a 
friend indeed;' and now, the first such friend that I. have 
found, is Tom Brown, whom I used to turn my back upon 
in my days of jollity. Tom, I have used you very ill. I 
have been a great fool, and a great sinner. When all the 
world went smooth with me, I laughed at religion and the 
Bible ; but, when distress came upon me, I found, that if 
ever I got any thing like comfort to bear me up under mis- 
fortunes, it must come from the Bible. I then, as you know, 
despised that book ; and now, if I had one, I think I should 
really be afraid to look into it. Since I have been brought 
into my distress, the thought has often come into my mind, 
and I have often said to myself, ' Ah ! the Bible is true ; it 
is 'all true, what the chaplain and some of my shipmates 
told me; and that Bible condemns me.' Thus, Tom, I 
have been unhappy in mind, and you may see how I have 
been in body !" 

"Well, Joe," replied honest Tom, "if your troubles 
lead you to pray to God for pardon for the past, and for his 
assistance to help you to do better for the future, I shall not 
be sorry that you have smarted a little under the rod. But 
what do you think of doing ? Have you no prospect of a 
change for the better ?" 

" I don't know what to do," said Joe. " My mind is un- 
happy, and my body is weakly ; and I cannot get a ship. 
There is nothing of work doing that falls in my way ; and 
to beg from door to door I am ashamed. Could I get down 
to a king's port, I would try to get on board a man-of-war ; 
but then 1 have no way of getting there, unless by begging ; 
and if I fetched a port, there is little hope of being accepted, 
in my weakly and ill-clothed state — so I don't know what 



THE SHIPMATES. jj 

to do. If I had not met you in the street, I must have 
skulked under some wall (as I have often done, starved 
with hunger and cold) all this night. If you can help me 
out with a lodging for a few nights, I hope something may 
turn out for the better ; and then, Tom, I will make you 
all the amends I can. But that will be but little, in com- 
parison with your kindness to me, who have so often slighted 
you." 

Here Joe's heart seemed quite full, and he could say no 
more ; nor did Tom want to hear any more. He would 
rather be doing a kind action than listening to a long tale of 
thanks. He therefore broke off the discourse by saying, 
that, so long as he remained in port, he would cheerfully 
comply with the request, and that a good bed should be pro- 
vided directly ; " but," says Tom, " I was this evening 
going to a place of worship, where I generally go on Wed- 
nesdays ; and, as I find it very good and edifying, I could 
wish, Joe, that you would go with me. The time is nearly 
up, and I can chat a little after we come away. Will you 
go?" 

Joe cast a pitiful eye at his dirty, torn clothes, and 
replied, "My rigging is not fit for any place where decent 
people meet : I'll stay here till you come back." 

"Come with me," said Tom; and, taking him into 
another room, " there, Joe, turn to, and wash your hands 
and face. Here's soap, and here's water, and here's a bun- 
dle containing a few things for a change; bear a hand, 
and rig yourself out, and then you will look something 
like Joe Long once more. Bear a hand, I say, instead of 
looking at me, and let us go and hear something that may 
do us good." 

Joe could do nothing but thank Tom for his kindness, 
and repeat his promises oi making all the returns he might 
ever have in his power. As to Tom, he said little else 



12 THE SHIPMATES. 

than, ''Bear a hand, and let us be off." When they were 
in the street, Tom seemed quite delighted at Joe's improved 
appearance, and more so still at the thought, that he was 
going to hear the word of God as well as himself He had 
never seen Joe so humbled down before, and he could not 
but hope that the Lord would fasten convictions on his mind, 
that night. 

When the text was given out poor Joe felt like a crim- 
inal at the bar. It was from Galatians 5 : 19, 20, 21. 
" Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these, 
adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, 
witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, sedi- 
tions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, 
and such like : of which I tell you again, as I have also 
told you in time past, that they which do such things shall 
not inherit the kingdom of God." 

" Surely," said Joe to himself, as the minister went on, 
explaining and applying the text, " this is the same account 
which I so often heard from our chaplain on board the Re- 
pulse ; and I am a condemned man." In this state of mind 
he sat till the service concluded. . 

"Wellj Joe," said Tom, as soon as they were out of 
the crowd, " What think you of what you have heard to- 
night ?" 

" Why," answered the other, " to be sure, the minister 
seemed to bring all that I ever heard on board the Repulse, 
right against me at one blow. Tom, I have been guilty of 
many of those things which are to shut the doers thereof 
out of the kingdom of heaven ; and I feel I am a condemned 
man in the sight of God. In the morning I was a poor 
miserable fellow in my body, and now I am no better in my 
soul. This is what I have got by abusing the Bible, and 
good friends, and good opportunities, when I had them." 

Tom was rejoiced to hear Joe talk at this rate ; for he 



THE SHIPMATES. 



13 



knew very well that there is no hope of a man's going to 
Jesus Christ, as the Physician to cure his soul, unless the 
man feels his spiritual disorder. In other words, Tom knew 
that God does not pardon a man's sins, and heal his soul of 
its infirmities, until the man is brought to confess his sins, 
and cry for mercy. And, therefore, since Joe appeared to 
be in some degree sensible of his lost condition, he hoped 
these convictions would go on, and deepen, until they sent 
forth the cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner !" and until 
that cry brought down into the soul the answer, " Be of good 
cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee ; depart in peace !" He 
therefore did not try to persuade Joe that there was no need 
to be uneasy ; but, on the contrary, he told him plainly, 
that he was a child of wrath by nature, as well as others, 
Eph. 2:3; that he had lived at enmity with God, and that, 
therefore, the wrath of God had been all his lifetime hang- 
ing over his head, and that it did so to this hour. " Only," 
says Tom, " here is the difference ; in former times you 
did not believe this to be your case, and now God has made 
you believe and feel that it is so, to the end that you may 
cry for and obtain mercy and forgiveness, which I most 
earnestly hope you will experience, through the renewing 
of the Holy Spirit." 

By this time they were at Joe's lodgings; and Tom, 
having ordered all things that were wanted, and put a few 
shillings into his companion's pocket, said, " I must now 
wish you a good-night. It is time for me to be on board ; 
come to-morrow, and get your dinner with us in the steer- 
age, and we will look out for a birth amomg the shipping, 
and I hope we shall succeed — good-night — don't forget to 
be on board in time." Thus saying, Tom left his com- 
panion and flew on board, anxious to tell Harry all that 
had happened, and in what state of mind he had left poor 
Joe. 



14 THE SHIPMATES 

"Well," replied Harry, when he had heard Tom out, 
" well, Tom, all things are possible with God, and, if Joe 
does but turn out a true penitent, we know that, though his 
sins have been as the sands upon the sea-shore for multitude, 
the blood of Christ Jesus can and will cleanse and blot them 
all out. I am glad you asked him on board ; he will have 
another opportunity of seeing that we wish him well. But, 
^om, I nnust and will go halves with you ; at least, in bear- 
ing his expenses, until something turns out for the better." 

"That," said Tom, "may be just as you like; but as 
for the money, why it does one's heart good to spend it in 
relieving those that are really in distress. I sometimes 
think I should like to have a chest full of dollars on pur- 
pose ; and I often think, if I now had some of that cash 
which I once fooled and squandered away in watches, silver 
buckles, rum, and all manner of wickedness, how many 
suffering creatures it would be of use to." 

" That's very true," said Harry. " That money, if 
properly laid out, would have made many a poor heart 
glad ; but it is gone ! You and I were, for a long time, 
very wasteful stewards of those things which God put into 
our hands. Instead of spending our money, like Christians, 
to the glory of God and the comfort of others, we spent it 
in the service of the devil. And O ! if we had then been 
called away to give up our account, what would have be- 
come of us ?" 

" Become of us," replied Tom ; " why, we should have 
been sent to spend an eternity with the wasters of God's 
bountiful gifts, with swearers, and drunkards, and adulter- 
ers, and whoremongers, and all those who, like ourselves, 
turned their backs on Christ and heaven. That's what 
would have become of us. For the Bible says, ' The 
wicked shall be turned into hell ; and all the nations that 
forget God.' It says again and again, that such sins as 



THE SHIPMATES. J5 

we then lived in will sink every man into the bottomless 
pit who does them ; unless, by repentance towards God, 
and faith in Jesus Christ, he obtain a full pardon before he 
dies. So it is very easy to find out what would have be- 
come of us." 

" You are right, Tom," answered Harry ; " and never 
can we be sufficiently thankful for the tender mercies and 
long-suffering of our heavenly Father ; that long-suffering 
bore with us year after year, and those tender mercies at 
length subdued our hearts to the love and obedience of his 
will. But it is getting late; and as we must be moving 
pretty early in the morning, we must now say good-night." 

They then retired to rest, in peace with God, and in 
peace with all mankind : while poor Joe Long passed a 
very restless night. He had a good bed and warm lodg- 
ings, to be sure ; but then his conscience was awake, and 
that would not let the body Sleep. He lay, and thought 
first of one thing, and then of another : at one time of the 
sermon he had heard ; and then, of what he had often been 
told on board the Repulse; and all made against him. 
" O ! if I was but like Tom Brown, or Harry Williams, 
how happy should I be !" Thus he mused, and talked to 
himself, and got up in the morning, fully convinced that 
no bed can give rest and peace to a man whose spirit is 
wounded by the arrows of the Almighty. 

At length the time came for going on board the Good 
Intent ; he therefore went down to the quay, found her out, 
and received a hearty welcome from Tom, who was on 
deck at the time. Here they chatted a little while, till 
Harry himself came up from the cabin, and, with all his 
old good-nature, shook Joe by the hand, and bid him wel- 
come on board. Poor Joe was almost confounded at this ; 
for he expected that Harry would either take no notice of 
him, or else that he would scold him for his past bad con- 



IQ THE SHIPMATES. 

duct. But, instead of this, he found him as free and as 
kind as ever, and heard not one word of upbraiding ; but, 
on the contrary, many expressions of sorrow at the rough 
times he had passed through since they left the Repulse. 

" Ah ! Harry," said Joe, after he had a little recovered 
himself, " I don't deserve this kindness from you ; and if 
you were not a real Christian, I should not receive it. I 
have been a great fool to myself, a most ungrateful man to 
my best friends, and a great rebel against God. And now 
you see what all this has brought me to! My pretended 
friends have plundered and forsaken me ; and those I once 
neglected and abused, are the only people who notice me 
in my distress." 

" Well, Joe," replied Harry, " don't rake up old griev- 
ances ; I hope you have at last learned a lesson that will 
be useful to you all your lifetime. Depend upon it, Joe, 
if you are on the look-out for a real friend, for a man who 
will be ' a friend in need, and therefore a friend indeed,' 
you will be far more likely to find such a one among those 
people who love and fear God, than among all others in the 
world. And you may be assured, that, if ever you possess 
any thing like happiness on this side heaven, it must and 
will be in loving and following the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
not in the way you have hitherto gone in. I have tried 
both ways, Joe. You have only tried one, yet you may 
believe me. But go down with Tom ; the cook is taking 
up the steerage dinner ; by and by, when you have dined, 
I have a little to say to you by ourselves." 

Accordingly, v/hen the cook had cleared away the bowls 
and platters, Harry called Joe aft on the quarter-deck, and 
said, " Tom has given me an account of all that has hap- 
pened to you. Again, Joe, I am really sorry for you, and 
most heartily do I wish I may see you a happier man, and 
in better circumstances, both as to soul and body. Yet I 



THE SHIPMATES. ^j 

am certain there will be little ground to expect this, unless 
you ' seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon 
him while he is near.' The invitation is, ' Let the wicked 
forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts ; 
and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy 
upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.' " 
" That is very encouraging," said Joe ; " and I thank 
you for your good wishes and good counsel. Had I fol- 
lowed your advice in times past, I should not have been the 
man I now am. But I now fear there is little hope of my 
escaping the hell I once laughed at and despised. I feel, 
Harry, that God is angry with me ; and this is worse than 
all my losses and poverty put together." 

Harry had never, till this day, heard Joe discourse in 
such a strain of humility ; and he really believed that it 
came from his heart : therefore he proceeded to acquaint 
him that, as one of their crew had received a hurt that 
morning, and would not be able to proceed on the voyage, 
they should ship another person. "As to choice of hands, 
you know," said Harry, " we have plenty ; but, Joe, if in 
your heart you think you can approve of and comply with 
the regulations of this ship, I will speak to the captain to 
enter you on our books. You must understand, that no 
oath, or drunkenness, or ridiculing religion and the Bible, 
is allowed here. We meet every evening for prayer in 
the cabin ; and on Sundays we shall endeavor to serve 
the Lord, so far as our circumstances at sea will allow. 
The merchant who owns the ship, and the captam who 
commands her, are both godly men ; and as for myself, 
you very well know how I like to go on. Therefore, 
don't come among us, unless you think differently, and 
are determined, by God's help, to act differently from what 
you did on board the Repulse. I will give you money 
to help out till you can get some other ship, if, on con- 
VOL. III. 24 



19 THE SHIPMATES. 

sideration, you think you cannot go on smoothly with us 
here." 

" Well, Harry," replied Joe, " it ill becomes me to 
boast, or make great promises of being good ; but this I can 
say, that I have experienced too much the deceitfulness of 
ungodly men, and now I feel too much of the bitterness of 
sin, to allow of my plunging into my former course or mix- 
ing with deceivers again. If there were twenty ships 
waiting for hands to-day, I would choose to go where the 
crew were godly men ; although I fear I shall never be 
like them myself. I wish I were like Tom Brown, or 
yourself, in these matters; but I fear God has been too 
much offended ever to regard me." 

Joe was quickly entered on the Good Intent's book, and 
the ship sailed in two or three days after for New York. 
Being now out at sea, the time for meeting in the cabin for 
evening prayer was eight o'clock. On these occasions, the 
captain read a portion of Scripture, and said a few words 
on it ; then either himself or Harry prayed ; the watch 
then went on deck, and the rest of the crew to their ham- 
mocks. It happened, on the evening they put to sea, that 
the captain read from the fifth chapter of St. Paul's second 
epistle to the Corinthians : " We know that if our earthly 
house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building 
of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heav- 
ens," and so on to the end of the tenth verse ; which, when 
he had finished, he said, 

" My lads ! the real Christian has joys and sorrows 
which the unthinking world knows nothing about. The 
world, the flesh, and the devil assault him grievously, and 
often make his feet slip, and sometimes almost beat him 
out of the strait and narrow path of life. These conflicts 
make him groan, and long for the day when his fighting 
and his dangers will end. Like other men, he has to strug- 



THE SHIPMATES. jg 

gle with the pains and decays of his body, to meet with 
many a calamity, many a sad disappointment in the bosom 
of his own family, and among his most particular friends. 
Yet, under all these, his soul is kept and supported by the 
presence of God. Strength is given him according to his 
day ; and though he has to say, ' Many are my afflictions,' 
yet he also can add, ' The Lord will deliver me out of all.' 
What, above all other things, bears his mind up under trials 
and calamities, is, the confidence that, by and by, he shall 
be with his Saviour in heaven. This was what made Paul, 
and his brethren at Corinth, rejoice in tribulation. They 
knew that if their earthly house of this tabernacle were 
dissolved, they had a building of God, a house not made 
with hands, eternal in the heavens ; and many a man can 
say the same at this day. God gives to the penitent sinner, 
not only a pardon, but an evidence of it ; ' the Spirit of God 
beareth witness with his spirit, that he is a child of God.' 
Rom. 8 : 16. I hope and trust that some here present are 
in possession of this blessing, and I hope that all will be so, 
before they are much older. Think, my lads, what a cor- 
dial this is, and will be, to bear us up under all we may 
have to meet with ! What a sweet Scripture is the first 
verse of this fifth chapter of Corinthians for a man to begin 
his voyage with ! We are again on the wide sea, and God 
only knows whether we are ever to tread the dry land 
again. We have to-day left our dearest earthly friends be- 
hind. Our Christian companions and the house of God are 
now out of our reach ; and the mighty deep once more rolls 
beneath us, and stretches itself on every side. This deep 
may or may not become our grave before the present voy- 
age is done. But what of all this ! Suppose the eyes of 
those who saw us to-day are to see us no more in this world ; 
suppose death is, this voyage, to end our race ; what cause 
have we to grieve, what room have we to fear, if we can 



20 THE SHIPMATES. 

say, that we have the witness of the Spirit of God that our 
sins are pardoned, and that, if the house of our earthly 
tabernacle be dissolved during this voyage, we have a 
building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens ? This experience of God's love and pardon 
in our souls will cast out all anxiety and distracting cares 
for life, and all slavish fear of death ; it will make the 
voyage pleasant while it lasts, and happy when it is over." 

Thus ended the captain, and shut up his Bible ; they 
then sung a hymn ; and Harry offered up a short prayer 
for the providence and mercy of the Lord to keep them in 
safety, to pardon all the transgressions of the day, and to 
bless them with refreshment of body and peace of soul, 
through Jesus Christ. And so they concluded. 

And now poor Joe felt, more than ever, what a differ- 
ence the love and fear of God make between one man and 
another ; that is, how much happier the follower of Christ is, 
than all other people ; and he would have given the Indies 
if he could have laid his hand on his heart, and said, " I 
know that if my earthly house of this tabernacle were 
dissolved, I have a building of God, a house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens." But, alas ! he could not do 
this. All he felt was the weight of his sins, and the anger 
of God resting on him. And, as the old saying tells us, 
" One trouble seldom comes alone," so Joe found it ; for 
almost as soon as the ship was clear of the land, he fell 
ill. The sudden change from a state of half starvation to 
good living brought on a fever, and his life was, for some 
time, in danger. Then it was that his soul was troubled 
indeed. 

" Oh, Harry !" said he, " what will become of me ? 
What must I do ? My body is sinking into ruin and death, 
and my soul is stained with ten thousand sins ; and I must 
shortly appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, to receive 



THE SHIPMATES. 21 

according to the things done in my wicked life. Oh, what 
shall I do?" 

" You must look to Jesus Christ, who died for sinners," 
replied Harry. " You must look to Calvary, where the Son 
of God died, the just for the unjust, that he might save poor, 
guilty rebels, like you and me, from destruction." 

" O, but I have sinned against him so grievously," re- 
plied Joe ; " you know, Harry, how I slighted all the good 
counsel I received on board the Repulse ; how I scoffed at 
the Bible, and cast the Lord behind my back. You know, 
and God knows still better, how I have indulged in many of 
those sins of which the Bible says, the doers thereof shall 
not enter the kingdom of heaven. And you know there is 
but one other place, and that is hell. O, my sins, my sins ; 
how shall I appear before God ! Harry and Tom, you will 
both go to heaven, but I shall be cast into hell. You have 
taken me into your company when I deserved to be turned 
far adrift ; but God will not let me be with you long here, 
and I fear I shall never meet you in a better world. Pray 
for me, both of you. I don't want to get rid of my pain, or 
my burning fever, or to live to have any thing this world has 
got to give. No ! I only want a pardon, and to be suffered 
to love that Saviour whom I have crucified by my sins !" 

Poor Tom was a good deal affected, and could say but 
little ; and Harry felt as much as Tom, but he strove to 
keep down his own feelings, that he might the better give 
some counsel to his afflicted comrade. 

" Joe, my dear fellow," said he, " remember, there are 
two ways by which the devil tries to ruin every soul. The 
first is, by persuading them to go on in the love and practise 
of sin. And then, when he can no longer do this, he turns 
the tables, and tempts them to despair of mercy. One day 
he says, ' Sin away, no harm will befall you ;' the next day 
he says, ' Now, there is no hope, God will never forgive 
VOL. III. 24* 



22 THE SHIPMATES. 

you.' But what says the God of truth, the Saviour of sin- 
ners ? ' Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.' 'If any man thirst, let 
him come unto me and drink.' Now, Joe, this heavy laden 
state means the state of a man like yourself, who feels the 
burden of his sin lying heavy on his soul, and the thirsting 
state means the state of one who longs for mercy and salva- 
tion, as you do. Well, then, endeavor to obey Christ's invi- 
tation — cast yourself at his feet — cry out, like poor, blind 
Bartimeus, ' Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me,' 
and, believe me, you will not go and cry in vain. The poor 
penitent thief on the cross no sooner turned his dying, weep- 
ing eyes to Christ, and under the weight of his sins prayed, 
' Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy king- 
dom,' than Jesus not only granted him a pardon of all his 
trangressions, but promised him a place in paradise. And 
what says the Bible ? ' Come now, saith the Lord, let us 
reason together : though your sins be as scarlet, they shall 
be as white as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
shall be as wool.' 'The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
from all sin.' His blood can cleanse you from yours ; that 
fountain can make you clean. Nothing can destroy you 
but a love of sin, and a keeping away from Christ. He 
came to seek and to save them that are lost and dead in 
trespasses and sins. He came to pardon all the past, and to 
give them a new heart and a right spirit to serve him in 
faith, in love, and obedience for the future. He says to all, 
' Come ; whosoever will, let him come and take the water 
of life freely.' " 

In this way did Harry from time to time discourse with 
him ; and Tom often read the Bible by the side of his ham- 
mock, and encouraged him to look unto Jesus, who prayed 
for his very murderers. But it was several days before Joe 
could lift up his head, or receive any comfort. At length, 



THE SHIPMATES. 23 

however, the Lord answered his prayer, and give him a 
sweet hope that his sins were pardoned. And now, his 
heart was filled with the love of God, and his lips with his 
praise. Nay, his mind was so tranquil and happy, that it 
greatly assisted towards his recovery; and before they 
reached America he was able to do day duty. Nor did he, 
like many men, turn back to his old ways when he recov- 
ered. No ; God had restored him to health and strength ; 
and he gave that strength to the service of God, and to the 
doing of his duty in that state of life in which it had pleased 
God°to call him. He lived to be a comfort and support to 
his old father and mother, and to instruct them too in things 
concerning their souls. He was much respected by his su- 
periors, and beloved by his equals. Whenever he passed 
by the grogshops and saw a set of drunken, swearing sea- 
men, and wicked prostitutes, his heart would melt with pity 
for them. "Poor creatures!" he would say, "the bitter- 
ness of these things will by and by be felt ; you are serving 
a hard master — for ' the wages of sin is death.' O, that you 
did but know the comfort and joy of serving the Lord Jesus 
Christ !" Joe was a most contented fellow. His Bible was 
his dear companion in all his leisure hours, and the worship 
of God was his chief delight. No man could be more grate- 
ful for his earthly comforts than he ; yet his heart was 
mainly above, and he would often, when walking the deck, 
look up to heaven, and say, 

" There is my house and portion fair, 
My treasure and my heart are there, 

And my abiding home ; 
For me my elder brethren stay, 
And angels beckon me away, 

And Jesus bids me come." 



24 THE SHEPiMATES. 

As for Harry and Tom, the reader may be sure, they 
were exceedingly happy to find Joe turn out so well. In- 
deed, they lived and sailed together in the utmost harmony, 
and the Lord prospered them in their honest, upright deal- 
ings ; so that they could say, each for himself, " Thou art 
my hiding-place ; thou shalt preserve me from trouble ; 
thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance." 
Psalm 32 : 7. Often, too, would they speak a word in sea- 
son to their shipmates, saying, " Be not deceived ; God is 
not mocked ; for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he 
also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh, shall of the flesh 
reap corruption ; but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall 
of the Spirit reap life everlasting." Galatians 6 : 7, 8. 
" Be sober, be vigilant ; because your adversary the devil, 
as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may 
devour." 1 Peter, 5:8. "O taste and see that the Lord 
is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him." Psalm 
34: 8. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



J¥o. 89. 

THE 



LIFE AND CONVERSION 

OF 

THE DAIRYMAI. 



BY REV. DANIEL TYERMAN, 

SINCE ONE OF THE MISSIONARY DEPUTATION TO THE SOUTH SEAS, CHINA, 
INDIA, ETC. 



The Dairyman's Daughter is well known to a large pro- 
portion of the Christian world. The Tract which details her life 
with so much simple elegance, has not only been read with avid- 
ity by all classes of society in Great Britain and America, but 
has been translated into most of the languages of Europe. Near- 
ly seven hundred thousand copies are now (1816) in circulation. 

While we read that pleasing Tract, a desire is excited to 
know something more of the Dairyman himself, the good old 
man who several years survived his excellent child. It is the 
design of this narrative to gratify such a desire. Some have sup- 
posed that the facts related of the Dairyman's Daughter are too 
highly wrought, and that the scenery described is an ideal picture. 
From a long residence on the island where tlie scene lies, and an 
intimate acquaintance with all the objects decribed, I can assert 
the accuracy of Mr. Richmond's delineations ; and that what he 
has related of the subject of his Tract is by no means exaggerated. 

Newport, Isle of Wight, April, 1816. 

Joseph Wallbridge, the Dairyman, was born in Dorset- 
shire. When about twenty years old, he engaged in ser- 
vice in the Isle of Wight, where he spent the remainder of 
his days. As a servant he lived with dilferent farmers, by 
whom he was greatly esteemed for his diligence and good 



2 THE DAIRYMAN. 

beliavior. When about twenty-seven years of age, he mar- 
ried ; and by his own industry as a day-laborer, and the 
assistance of a little shop kept by his wife, he obtained a 
comfortable subsistence. 

For many years he lived at a cottage about a mile south- 
east of the village of Arreton, in the Isle of Wight. To 
that cottage were attached six acres of ground, for which 
he paid an annual rent of six pounds. An acre or two of 
the ground produced him corn, the rest was pasturage. By 
this farm, and a little occasional assistance from some other 
resources, he brought up a family of two sons and two 
daughters with decency, and gave them all a little school- 
ing. He followed the two daughters to the grave ; both of 
his sons survive him. 

In his dealings, he was remarked for strict uprightness. 
Even before his conversion, he appears to have acted under 
a high sense of integrity. He had formed no extravagant 
habits. His day was spent in labor, and his night was 
passed at home, in the enjoyment of his family and his fire- 
side, and in recruiting exhausted nature during the lonely 
hours wiiich elapsed between early retirement and early 
rising. 

He was a man of great veracity. Simplicity, integrity, 
and freedom from deceit, were strong features in his char- 
acter. And while he paid a strict regard to truth himself, 
he carefully inculcated a love of it upon his children. One 
day conversing with his eldest son in the garden, when he 
was a very little boy, he said to him, " Robert, be sure you 
always tell the truth ; let nothing induce you to tell a lie. 
Should it even cost you your life, be sure that you speak 
the truth " — an admonition which made so deep an impres- 
sion on the lad's mind that he never forgot it. 

But while we see so much to admire and love in the 
character of the Daiiyman, he was yet a stranger to true, • 
spiritual religion. His "heart was not right with God;" 
and he was afterwards enabled to see that, had he died at 
this period, he must have perished. He became conscious 



THE DAIRYMAN. g 

that all his morality availed nothing with God, while his 
mind was at enmity against him. On the Sabbath, indeed, 
he desisted from his accustomed labor, and, in common with 
his neighbors, paid the usual visit to his parish church. 
But he did not " remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy." 
He was not in that happy frame of mind which harmonizes 
with the holiness and spirituality of the day. As he went 
to church, he joined the company of those who were going 
the same way ; they talked over the price of cheese, butter, 
and eggs ; they made their observations on the weather, and 
mentioned who was ill, and who was dead. When they 
arrived at the churchyard, they spoke of the crops, and the 
prospects, and the state of the markets, till the bells chimed, 
and they hastened to their pews. But " God was not in all 
their thoughts." 

Observe the Dairyman while professing to worship the 
Searcher of hearts. He said his prayers with a mechanical 
skill, which had been rendered uniform and accurate by 
the practice of more than half a century ; but he never 
prayed with the heart. With his lips he confessed his sins, 
but he failed to repent of them. He stood in some parts of 
the service, and knelt in others, for it was customary; and 
not because he meant to express any correspondent frame 
of mind, or was at all influenced by a devotional feeling. 
The minister read the Scriptures and preached his sermon, 
while the Dairyman slept, or looked around him, or thought 
of his horse, and his cows, and his poultry. The benedic- 
tion was pronounced, and he went home well satisfied with 
himself, though in the sight of God an unconverted sinner, 
unacquainted with the way of life, and exposed to the wrath 
to come. He closed the Sabbath as he had begun it, having 
the form of godliness, but ignorant of its power. 

The Dairyman lived in this state the whole of the first 
seventy years of his life ; amiable, outwardly moral, but 
only a formalist in the worship of God. About this period 
his eldest son was awakened to a sense of the value of his 
soul and the importance of real religion. Brought up under 



4 THE DAIRYMAN. 

the eye of his parents, he had been preserved from many 
evils, and was also moral in his conduct. But he began to 
see that something more was wanting, and that " one thing 
was needful," which he did not possess, to make him truly 
happy — it was vital religion. This he now sought with ar- 
dor. Feeling the value of his own soul, he became anxious 
for the souls of his parents, and looked upon them with fear 
and solicitude. Seeing their danger, he warned them " to 
flee from the wrath to come." One day, as they were 
going to church, the son began to converse with his aged 
parent, and spoke of the importance of a change of heart : 
" Hold your tongue," said the old man, " we are good 
enough ; we go to church on Sundays, we pay every one 
his own, we do nobody any harm ; what more can be re- 
quired ?" So great was the confidence which he had of his 
own safety at that time ; while he feared that his son was 
going mad, because he doubted the sufficiency of his father's 
religion, and wished to obtain a better for himself. 

The eldest daughter was from home in service. Provi- 
dentially she was brought to hear the Gospel, which was 
rendered the power of God to her conversion. No sooner 
did she feel the power of religion on her own soul, than she 
began also to be very anxious for her parents, whom she 
considered in the most dangerous state, without God in the 
world. Soon after, she wrote an affectionate letter to them. 
The old folks now began to think that madness had tainted 
the blood of their children, and were afraid whereunto this 
evil might grow. In this first letter the daughter told her 
parents the surprising change which she had felt, the means 
by which it was produced, and the great distress which she 
suffered on their account. While the father was reading 
this letter, the son stood behind his chair, looking, also, over 
its contents. While he saw such religious sentiments in it, 
and the pious strain in which it was written, he rejoiced, 
and wept, and prayed that what she had written might be 
blessed to his father's conversion. But no visible effect was 
then produced upon him. 



THE DAIRYMAN. 5 

The Dairyman had a very amiable disposition. He was 
placid, gentle, and inoffensive. He was seldom ruffled by 
the affairs gf life. This amiableness continued even to old 
age, when, generally, the infirmities of a sinking frame 
occasion a peevish fretfulness. For some years he had lost 
the use of one eye. His white locks, and a cast of features 
which harmonized with the serenity of his mind, gave him 
a venerable appearance. 

How far may persons go in outward show, and yet, alas, 
be destitute of true religion ! How affecting to consider the 
Dairyman, notwithstanding his venerable appearance, his 
amiableness of mind, and his inoffensive life, destitute of the 
knowledge of Christ ! His heart had not been touched by 
the finger of God. No heavenly ray had yet enlightened 
his mind ; no heavenly affections had warmed his bosom. 
He thought all was well, because he stood well with himself 
and the world, though the law of God condemned his con- 
duct as void of religious principle, and his soul as being 
without repentance towards God and sincere faith in our 
Lord Jesus Christ. 

How great the danger of self-deception ! How often do 
persons who are eminent in morality, mistake it for true 
religion ! This was the affecting case of Joseph Wallbridge. 
He was just, in the esteem of mankind, and hence imagined 
that he was justified before God. But true religion does 
more than make us outwardly moral. While it prescribes 
holy laws for the life, it governs and sanctifies the heart ; 
while it calls on us to abstain from the appearance of all evil, 
it enjoins it upon us that we hate all evil ; while it teaches 
that we should do no harm to man, it requires that we serve 
God from the heart. To the form of godliness it adds the 
spirit and the power. It makes the life moral, by making 
the heart holy. 

The soul of his excellent daughter was now full of holy 

affections and sacred zeal. Her parents were the first whom 

she selected as the proper objects of both ; and they after- 

wards regarded her as the honored instrument of their ccn- 

voL. III. 25 



g THE DAIRYMAN. 

version. The principles of divine grace which she had 
been the means of planting in the mind of her father by 
her epistolary correspondence, first began to develope them- 
selves in the following manner. 

" As I was walking in the fields, and looking at the ob- 
jects of nature," he said, " I began to think of God and his 
perfections. My mind was much afiected with these thoughts, 
and I soon felt that I was a great sinner. I was brought 
into deep distress respecting my state, which continued for 
some time. I began to pray in earnest, and to read the 
Scriptures with care ; and at length, through faith in Jesus 
Christ, I obtained peace and comfort." 

The reality of the Dairyman's conversion, which he so 
briefly described, was clearly evidenced by the change 
which followed. Neither the preceding relation, nor any 
other, however striking and remarkable, would have evinced 
a change of heart, unless it had been followed bv the fruits 
of holiness. If true repentance, and humble dependence 
on Christ for pardon of sin and acceptance with God, and a 
devout and holy life, follow, as was the case with the Dairy- 
man, we have no reason to question the reality of conversion, 
however simple the process. 

The means employed in the conversion of sinners, and 
the period of their effectual application to the mind, are 
alike to be resolved into the sovereign pleasure of God. 
But it is observable that he generally adapts the means to 
the peculiar structure of the mind, and to habits acquired 
during the former life. A furious, persecuting Saul must 
be filled with horror and distress by the application of the 
law to his conscience. An amiable John was as effectually 
drawn by the cords of love. The Dairyman more resem- 
bled the latter than the former, both in his natural disposition 
and in the means of his conversion. 

The unfolding of the work of divine grace on the heart, 
after it is begun, is equally of God. The influence of nat- 
ural objects may be traced, yet the finger of God is present, 
though invisible. In the case of the Dairyman we see this 



THE DAIRYMAN. 7 

remark illustrated. He was reading the volume of nature. 
The trees, the hedges, the flowers, the blades of grass which 
surrounded him, engaged his attention. He inquired, who 
made these ? He saw God in them all. But, said he, what 
is God ? He is an infinite Spirit ; he is a Being of perfect 
purity ; he sees and knows me. But what am I, that he 
sfiould look upon me, and take care of me ? O, I am vile ! 
I have sinned against him ; my heart is all impure. My 
life, however moral it has been, is full of sin ; it becomes 
me to repent in dust and ashes ! 

Such, it appears, was the development of the work of 
grace in the Dairyman's mind. His former life had been 
spent in a round of formal duties, but now his vain hopes 
were shaken : he felt himself to be a guilty and perishing 
sinner. He saw that Christ was the only Saviour, and was 
enabled sincerely to trust in him. He thus obtained that 
" peace which passeth all understanding." 

During his first convictions that he was a lost sinner, 
and exposed to everlasting misery, he labored under great 
disadvantages. He lived in an obscure situation in the 
country, rejnote from any place of worship where the Gos- 
pel was preached in its purity, and very seldom had an 
opportunity of hearing the way of salvation pointed out by 
a faithful minister. At the place where he had been accus- 
tomed to attend on the Sabbath, that doctrine only was 
preached which had left him in a state of dangerous satis- 
faction with his spiritual condition for so many years. Here 
was nothing either to awaken conviction of conscience or to 
afford support and consolation. 

Providentially, however, his daughter soon returned from 
service. She brought home a heart warmed with that relig- 
ion which she so eminently adorned in a holy life. The 
sentiments which she had inculcated by her epistolary cor- 
respondence, she found had arrested the attention of her 
father ; and while she afforded all the assistance which was 
in her power in the temporal affairs of the family, she did 



8 



THE DAlRYxM-\N. 



not fail to seek their spiritual good. Her conversation, her 
prayers, and her example, were of great service in deepen- 
ing and carrying on the good work in the soul of her father, 
who was happy to enjoy the instruction of his own child. 

This circumstance affords two examples worthy of imi- 
tation. The one is that of the father. Though great age 
generally unites with the authority of the father in repelling 
any attempts made by his offspring to offer instruction, yet 
in the present instance he gave an attentive ear to the in- 
structions of his daughter, feeling that in the concerns of 
religion she was better taught than himself. Nay, he was 
not only willing, but even anxious to receive her instruc- 
tions. In such cases it is wise in parents to become the 
disciples even of their children. 

The other example is that of the child. The daughter 
treated her parents with all possible deference and respect ; 
and in assuming the office of a teacher, she did not forget 
the duties of a child. She availed herself of every oppor- 
tunity to promote the future, as well as the present, welfare 
of her parents. The Dairyman's daughter was, at the same 
time, decided in religion herself, and zealous to make others 
so. While she was writing letters to almost every person 
in the neighborhood, with whom she was acquainted, she 
did not forget those who were dear to her by kindred ties. 
And she was a great blessing : God gave her the souls, there 
is reason to hope, of both her parents ; and her holy conver- 
sation, her fervent prayers, and her devout life, were also 
blessed to their further edification, after their conversion. 
Let the young reader follow her steps, and be encouraged to 
hope for like success. 

The dutiful, affectionate, and wise deportment of the 
daughter, endeared her greatly to her parents, and seemed 
to render her continuance with them essential to their hap- 
piness. But "God seeth not as man seeth." This young 
woman, so high in the affections of her parents, was soon 
called home to a better world. They sustained an irrepa- 
rable loss in her death ; but they bore it with submission to 



THE DAIRYMAX. g 

the will of God, recollecting that their loss was her gain. 
Under this, the greatest affliction which the good Dairyman 
had hitherto met with, he maintained his usual placid and 
serene frame of mind. A breach, however, was made in 
his domestic comfort ; for he had lost an able counsellor, a 
faithful friend, and a child indefatigable in her endeavors to 
promote his welfare. 

The eminent clergyman who honored the Dairyman 
and his family with his friendship, and the memory of the 
daughter with so engaging a narrative, preached at a church 
too remote from the old man's cottage to allow him the 
benetit of his ministry. Besides, that faithful servant in his 
Lord's vineyard, soon after the death of the young woman, 
was removed from the village where he preached, to a dis- 
tant county. The good old Dairyman was now bereft of 
his best friends. He had few opportunities of religious in- 
struction, or of hearing the Gospel preached with that clear- 
ness and decision which his state of mind required ; but 
he embraced every opportunity of hearing those who ap- 
proached the nearest to the truth. He spent eleven or 
twelve years in this state of obscurity. The ardor of youth 
was gone, and " the grasshopper had become a burden." 
He had to contend with the trials of the world. He had 
no affectionate pastor to feed him with the bread of life, and 
no kind friend near to admonish him of danger, and to aid 
him in his progress. He had to learn the holy art of walk- 
ing with God, when old age had benumbed his faculties, and 
how to contend with the powers of darkness, the depravity 
of his heart, and the delusions of the world, when he needed 
the consolations of religion. 

Let the youthful reader from hence learn the danger of 
delaying repentance. Life steals insensibly away, while 
mere trifles employ our attention. Eternity opens upon us, 
while we are making vows and promises to prepare for it. 
Few reach the advanced age of the Dairyman ; and how 
rarely do those who are spared so long without religion, seek 
it then. Sinning for such a length of time produces dread- 
VOL. Ill, 25* 



10 THE DAIRYMAN. 

ful hardness of heart. Rather, like Timothy, and Josiah, 
and Samuel, and the Dairyman's daughter, take Christ 
now for your portion, and consecrate the vigor of your days 
to him. 

Let the aged also mark the patience and mercy of God. 
He bore with the Dairyman, in an unconverted state, for 
seventy years. He had neither faith in Christ nor love to 
God, without which it is impossible to please him. But he 
obtained forgiveness through the merits of Christ, whose 
" blood cleanseth from all sin." Such instances of late 
conversion are very rare, though frequent enough to en- 
courage the most aged to come to Christ. The Scriptures 
speak of one man who obtained mercy at the close of life, 
that none might despair ; and of one only, that none might 
presume. Let aged sinners no longer presume on the for- 
bearance of God, but immediately repent and seek mercy at 
his hand. 

A few months after the death of his excellent daughter, 
the Dairyman was called to follow his wife to the grave. 
They had travelled forty-six years together through this vale 
of tears, sharing each other's joys and anxieties. They had 
accompanied the mortal remains of their two daughters to 
"the house appointed for all living;" but they "sorrowed 
not " over them " as those who have no hope." Now the 
time came, when she must also be separated from the good 
old man, and be forbidden to soothe his last days. 

Her declining days, there is good reason to think, were 
blessed with the consolations of religion. This greatly soft- 
ened the pain of separating. They looked to a moment not 
far off, when they should meet again. 

Who can sufficiently estimate the importance of the con- 
version of any individual of a family ? The cheerful tidings 
of life and salvation were brought home to the Dairyman's 
cottage by the daughter. She went from home a stranger 
to religion. Providence brought her under the sound of 
the Gospel. The Spirit applied the word, and it was the 



THE DAIRYMAN. jj 

means of her conversion. She began to feel all the solici- 
tude of an affectionate child and zealous Christian towards 
her parents and her kindred; she wrote to them, she re- 
turned home and conversed with them, warned them of 
their danger, and pointed them to a refuge : they listened 
to her entreaties, repented, and lived. Let this striking 
instance of zeal and success be remembered by other young 
Christians. 

While the daughter discovered great anxiety for the con- 
version of the mother, the husband was by no means indif- 
ferent. One afternoon, the Dairyman and his wife were 
taking a friendly cup of tea at a neighbor's house, where 
there was to be some religious exercise in the evening. At 
that time the maxim of his wife was, " Be not overmuch 
j'ighteous." A little formal religion for a few minutes once 
a week was considered quite enough. The Dairyman was 
aware, that as the time of the intended service drew near, 
his wife would withdraw ; and to prevent this, stepped to 
the door, locked it, put the key in his pocket, and returned 
to his chair. When the old lady was making her escape, 
she found the door locked ; and though not without some 
vexation, she returned, and continued during the service. 
This little violence on the part of the amiable husband, had 
the desired effect ; for she was always glad afterwards to 
enjoy such opportunities. 

After the death of his wife, the good old man continued 
to attend to his little dairy, as before. His wife was not ; 
Elizabeth was not ; Hannah Was not ; and Robert and Wil- 
liam had left their father's house. Yet he was not alone, 
for God was with him. This period of solitude was closed 
by his youngest son's returning to live with him. He 
brought along with him a wife and one child. They took 
the duties of the dairy upon them, and this relieved him 
from many of his anxieties. 

As the infirmities of old age come on, it is a privilege 
to have our beloved offspring around us, to take upon them 
those cares and duties of which we are no longer capable. 



12 THE DAIRYMAN. 

Our children thus repay the obligations which they had 
contracted in their youth. The obligation is mutual, and 
perhaps equally difficult to discharge. These remarks may 
show the great importance of both parents and children cul- 
tivating towards each other the most ardent affection, and 
exercising mutual forbearance. If parents do this towards 
their children when young, they may rationally expect that 
their children will repay it in tender affection and kindness, 
when they are old. The Dairyman was a very tender and 
kind parent, and until his last breath he enjoyed the constant 
and affectionate attentions of his children. 

Mr. Wallbridge continued with his son at his cottage 
until within two years of his death, when he removed to 
Newport, to close his pilgrimage at the house of his eldest 
son. He then began to attend my ministry ; and it was 
from that time that I became personally acquainted with 
him. When he first appeared in the place of worship I did 
not know him ; but I was greatly struck with his venerable 
aspect, and soon learned that he was the old Dairyman. He 
was bending under the infirmities of eighty-two years, and 
supported himself with a staff which had long been his com- 
panion. His milk-white locks, and his amiable and serene 
countenance, rendered him a very interesting figure. 

After attending on my ministry a short time, he was 
taken ill, and sent to request that I would visit him. Cheer- 
fully I obeyed the summons. I had not before enjoyed 
much religious conversation with him, and from some inti- 
mations I had received, was not without fear that I should 
find him reposing in his morality, and knowing nothing of 
a change of heart. I thus beheld him with pity, and felt 
the great importance of immediate fidelity. 

When I entered the little room where he was sitting, he 
exerted his feeble limbs, rose to receive me, and seemed 
much pleased at my arrival. After making a few inquiries 
as to the nature of his indisposition, I said to him, " You 
appear, sir, to be far advanced in the journey of life, and to 
be near eternity." 



THE DAIRY AIAN. 23 

" Yes, sir," said he, " I have seen eighty and two years ; 
I cannot expect to live long." 

" It is a solemn thing to die and to give an account of 
ourselves to God." 

He replied, "I feel that it is." 

" To those who have no hope of heaven," said I, " death 
is very terrible." 

" It is, indeed, sir." 
. " As you must soon quit this world, what is your hope 
that you shall be happy in the next ?" 

" O, sir, all my hope is in Christ ; I have no hope besides." 

At hearing this I began to feel a confidence that I had 
mistaken his character, and to entertain a better opinion of 
his religion. 

I continued my interrogations : " But, sir, you have 
been, I suppose, a very moral character ; do you not place 
some dependence on your good works, to save you ?" 

" O no, sir, I am a poor, unworthy sinner. I can do 
nothing of myself. All my dependence is placed on Christ 
alone to save me." 

" You have kept the Sabbath, you have prayed, and 
read the Scriptures ; you have been just in your dealings — 
do you not place some dependence on these things, as well 
as upon Christ ?" 

' " I have made a point of these things ; but it is Christ, 
•and his merits alone, that can bring me to glory." 

" Do you not love the Lord Jesus Christ, then V 

" I hope I do." 

" Then I suppose you have felt yourself to be a poor, 
undone sinner." 

" Yes, I am a very great sinner ; and sin is mixed with 
all I do." 

" Do you think that you have sincerely repented of your 
sins ? To repent, is not only to be sorry for your sins, but^ 
to forsake them. Have you thus repented ?" 

" Yes, I think I have, and hope that the Lord has for- 
given me." 



14 



THE DAIRYMAN. 



"But heaven is a holy place, and we cannot enter it 
without a change of heart, and being made holy : do you 
know any thing of this change ?" 

" Some change, I hope, has taken place in me. I can- 
not take pleasure in sin : I hate it ; I wish to be made holy." 

The conversation was long and highly interesting. My 
inquiries were such as to ascertain his Christian experience, 
and his views of religion. He appeared to acquiesce most 
cordially in the terms of salvation, and to approve of it as a 
system of free and sovereign grace. He seemed to me to 
be taught of God. I never was more satisfied with a first 
interview. In closing the conversation I endeavored to con- 
firm his view of the great principles of the Gospel ; and 
enforced upon his attention the duties of self-examination, 
prayer, the reading of the Holy Scriptures, constant medita- 
tion, and habitual preparation for death. I read a chapter 
suited to his condition ; and offered supplication for the aged 
saint. 

It pleased God to restore his servant to the enjoyment 
of his wonted health ; and to permit him to appear again in 
the sanctuary. Having constant opportunities now for a 
while of enjoying public ordinances, his religious character 
appeared rapidly to improve. The word was greatly blessed 
to his edification. 

But the period of these privileges was of short duration. 
It was soon to close. One day, walking over some rough 
stones, he fell, and received a violent bruise upon the hip. 
This was fourteen months before his death. From that 
time he was confined to his bed, from which he was only 
occasionally removed. He suffered considerable pain for a 
while, from the injured part, though afterwards the pain 
subsided. As soon as I heard of the accident I called upon 
him. He was in bed, and in great agony ; but tranquil and 
resigned. 

It was chiefly from this time that his religious principles 
and character were most conspicuously unfolded. Visiting 
him frequently, and enjoying his confidence and a frank 



THE DAIRYMAN. 



15 



disclosure of his feelings, I had every opportunity of form- 
ing accurate ideas of his personal religion. 

The Dairyman's religious views were strictly evangeli- 
cal, being drawn immediately from the Sacred Scriptures, 
by a mind, I doubt not, under a divine influence. I never 
detected an error in sentiment, or a distorted view of any 
doctrinal or practical truth. This accuracy was the more 
remarkable, as he had enjoyed so little advantage from pub- 
lic means of instruction. He was happily delivered from a 
self-righteous spirit, and expected to be justified before God 
through the righteousness of Christ. The person and work 
of Jesus were the foundation of his hopes ; and he was anx- 
ious to erect on this foundation a holy edifice. While he 
was diligent in the performance of every Christian duty, he 
was careful not to pervert its design by hoping for salvation 
from it. The doctrine of the Trinity, the atonement, the 
influence of the Spirit, the new birth, repentance towards 
God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, were among the 
leading sentiments of this venerable saint. 

All the essential features of Christian character were 
evident in Joseph Wallbridge. There were seen in him 
contrition for sin, humility, love to God and his people, meek- 
ness and submission to the will of his heavenly Father, and 
that spirituality of mind which is life and peace. 

The manner in which he bore his long affliction was 
truly exemplary. He discovered entire resignation ; in 
patience he possessed his soul. He was never heard to 
utter a word of discontent, or express the least want of sub- 
mission to his situation. Frequently asking him whether he 
was still resigned to the Lord's will, he generally answered 
me, "Yes, sir, but I wish to be gone." 

On inquiring, as I often did when I visited him, how he 
had been since I saw him last, his reply generally was, 
" Comfortable." He was enabled to " set his affections upon 
things above," and to spend his lonely hours of day and 
night in prayer and meditation. 

For every act of kindness which was shown him, he dis- 



IQ THE DAIRYMAN. 

covered gratitude. Many friends and strangers called upon 
him. He was thankful for their kind attentions, their pray- 
ers, and every other expression of their affection and sym- 
pathy. One day I perceived a small donation which some 
kind friend had dropped among the bed clothes,. instead of 
putting it into his hand. On giving it to him, his counte- 
nance brightened, and discovered a striking union of surprise 
and gratitude. To his affectionate son and daughter-in- 
law, wliose attentions to him were incessant, he felt sincere 
thankfulness, and often expressed to me his sense of their 
kindness. 

He took great delight in family devotion. When at any 
time his son was prevented from assembling the family in 
the good old man's bedroom, he was much distressed ; and 
if ever he discovered discontent, it was at those times. 
Where should a dying saint look for consolation, but to his 
heavenly Father ? 

At length the powers of nature began to indicate the 
very near approach of death. He complained often of 
fever ; his sight failed ; his hearing became dull ; his ar- 
ticulation was so indistinct that, the last time I saw him, 
though there was something which he wished to say — and 
he made several attempts — it was in vain. Yet he seemed 
to remain in the same happy frame of mind. A few days 
after, the Dairyman sweetly fell asleep in Jesus, in the 
eighty-fourth year of his age. " Mark the perfect man, and 
behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." 



[The earthly remains of Joseph Wallbridge were deposited in 
the burying- ground at Arreton, with those of his wife and his two 
daughters. On the Sabbath after, I improved his death in a 
funeral sermon to a crowded audience, at his request, from Psalm 
66 : 16. " Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare 
what he hath done for my soul."] 



]¥o. 90, 



A WORD II SEASOI 



It is the character of the wicked, that " thi'ough the 
pride of his countenance, he will not seek after God. God 
is not in all his thoughts." May we ask, Is this your char- 
acter ? Have you ever seriously considered the shortness 
and uncertainty of all earthly things ? Have you thought 
of the consequences of death, which you know awaits you ? 
Or are you living without God in the world ? acting as if 
there was no God, to whom you must give an account of 
your thoughts, words, and actions ? But what can the 
world bestow ? How uncertain are all its enjoyments ! 
Riches make themselves wings, and fly away. A man is 
to-day in full health ; to-morrow he is gasping on a death- 
bed. Death spares neither rich nor poor, young nor old ; 
there is no discharge in that war. We know not what a 
day shall bring forth. 

Are you, my friend, prepared for death ? You know 
you are a sinner. Have you any reason to believe your 
sins are pardoned ? Or do you turn away your thoughts 
from this subject ? By this means many keep their minds 
easy. But is this like a rational creature ? A criminal 
may get drunk, and forget the day of his execution ; but 
will this prevent it ? You may be drunk with the cares or 
pleasures of the world. You may ridicule those whose 
attention is occupied about the salvation of their souls, who 
do not run to the same excess of riot with you ; but re- 
member, every breath you draw brings you nearer eternity. 
Every hour you oass without laying to heart the things 
VOL. HI. 26 



2 A WORD IN SEASON. 

which belong to your eternal peace, is an aggravation of 
your guilt. It is treating God with contempt, despising his 
long-suffering. 

Why, think you, has he not already cut you down ? 
Why were not you in the place of your companion, whom 
you have followed to the grave ? He bade as fair for life 
as yourself, but now his doom is fixed. God has given you 
a respite, and what use do you make of it ? You trample 
on his commandments ; you despise his ordinances ; you 
employ the time his long-suffering affords you in this world, 
to add to your guilt, as if you were afraid lest the wrath of 
God were not sufficiently kindled against you for past sins. 
You " despise the riches of his goodness, and forbearance, 
and long-suffering, not knowing that the goodness of God 
leadeth you to repentance." Thus you employ the time he 
graciously affords, to treasure up wrath against the day of 
wrath, and revelation of the righteous judgment of God. 

Do you say we are drawing a character different from 
yours : that you are sober and honest ; that you do not 
ridicule religion, but believe the Scriptures to be the word 
of God ? If you believe the Scriptures, either you have 
experienced an entire change of heart, your character is 
perfectly different from what it was formerly, or else you 
must be convinced that the wrath of God abideth on you. 
The Scriptures, almost m every page, declare the absolute 
necessity of a change of heart. He who is now your Wit- 
ness, and will very shortly be your Judge, assures you, that 
without this entire change of heart, this being born again 
by the power of the Holy Spirit, no man can enter into the 
kingdom of God. You may take the name of Christian, 
or, if you prefer it, you may call yourself an angel ; but 
the name will make no difference in your character in the 
sight of God. Men are not saved by assuming any par- 
ticular name, but by believing in Christ ; and if any man 
have not the spirit of Christ, he is not a believer, he is not 
interested in Christ's salvation. 



A WORD IX SEASON. 3 

Perhaps you do not ridicule what you call religion ; that 
is, a religion which does not condemn your conduct, which 
flatters you with the hopes that God will wink at your sins, 
your worldly-mindedness, your neglect of prayer, your ha- 
bitual indifference about eternity : a religion which teaches 
you, that if you do not habitually indulge in gross sins, all 
will be well ; which quiets your conscience with the thought 
that you are no worse than your neighbors : a religion which 
encourages you to think favorably of yourself; tiiat, al- 
though you are a sinner, your heart is good in the main, 
and that God will accept you for your sincere, though im- 
perfect, endeavors to serve him : a religion which leads you 
to attend the minister who is nearest you, or whom your 
father attended, without comparing the doctrine he preaches 
with the word of God, or judging by his life and conversation 
whether he be a minister of Christ. Perhaps your religion 
teaches you that it is unnecessary to be very scrupulous 
about these things. 

If such be your views of religion, no wonder you do not 
dislike it. Yours is a religion exactly suited to the taste 
of an enemy of God and of righteousness. But do you 
never ridicule the religion of those who talk much of the 
corruption of their hearts, of the necessity of the renewing 
and sanctifying influences of the Spirit ? Who say that 
God could not be just, if he passed by even one sin without 
showing his displeasure; who tell you that if j^ou are living 
like your neighbors, you are in the high road to destruction ; 
that all your endeavors to recommend yourself to God are 
vain ; and that, laying aside all your sobriety and decency, 
as a ground of confidence, you must come to Christ for 
pardon exactly upon the same footing as if you had been 
guilty of murder and every crime ? Do you not ridicule 
those who show an anxiety to hear men who insist much 
on particular doctrines, which you do not understand, and 
whose standard of Christianity is much higher than yours ? 
Who say a Christian must be very strict and circumspect, 



4 ■ A WORD IN SEASON. 

must worship God in bis family, must pray much to God, 
and converse much upon religion ; yea, that such things are 
the Christian's delight and happiness ? Do you never ridi- 
cule some such people for meeting together for prayer and 
reading the Scriptures, on a week-day, after their work is 
over ? If so, you are ridiculing the religion of Christ, al- 
though you may call it enthusiasm or madness. The name 
you give it is of no consequence. We do not suppose you 
hate the name of religion. But if a great change has not 
taken place in your heart, we are as sure that you hate the 
religion of Jesus, as we are that our Bibles are true ; for 
they tell us that " the carnal mind is enmity against God ;" 
that " the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit 
of God, for they are foolishness to him." Remember how 
the Jews rejected Jesus Christ, while they pretended great 
zeal for God, whom they called their Father and their God ; 
and take care, lest, while you call yourself a Christian, you 
account the true doctrine of the cross a stumbling-block and 
foolishness, and the sentiments and practice which spring 
from the belief of this doctrine to be hypocrisy, pride, and 
uncharitable judging of others. 

Beloved, our heart's desire and prayer for you is, that 
you may be saved. If you are indeed taught of God — and 
without this you cannot be a Christian — you will not be dis- 
pleased with our plainness of speech ; you will acknowledge, 
that such as we have described was your former character; 
that you hated both God and Christ ; and that, but for his 
goodness in opening the eyes of your understanding, you 
had been still in this temper of mind. But if you imagine 
you were never so bad as this, be assured, you are still in 
the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity. The first part 
of the work of God's Spirit on the heart, is to convince of 
sin; not merely showing a man he is a sinner, for this is 
allowed by all ; but convincing him, that his " heart is de- 
ceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Till a 
man is convinced that this is a just description of his heart, 



A WORD IN SEASON. 5 

he does not believe the word of God. If you therefore think 
there is any thing good in your heart by nature, you make 
God a liar, and his word is not in you. 

They that are whole have no need of a physician. You 
must entertain thoughts of yourself very different from what 
men naturally entertain, before you come to Christ for sal- 
vation. Many say they believe in Christ ; they think they 
cannot be saved without him ; but all they expect from him 
is his assistance to save themselves. Such assistance he will 
never bestow. He died for the wretched, the miserable, 
and helpless ; for those who were " without strength." His 
death is a complete atonement. He hath finished the work 
of redemption. Men try to lay a foundation for themselves ; 
their good works, their alms, their prayers, their tears, their 
future amendment ; but all these will prove refuges of lies, 
which the hail shall sweep away. But the man who depends 
on the death of Christ alone for pardon and acceptance with 
God, who ceases from looking to his own works, and looks 
to the works of Christ for salvation, shall not perish, but have 
everlasting life. 

Is this your character ? Have you given up all confidence 
of escaping the wrath of God, because you have been free 
from gross sins, or because your character is good among 
men ? Do you see that one offence justly and inevitably 
exposes you to the wrath of God ; that your life has been 
a continued course of rebellion against him ; that your most 
admired actions were deeply stained with guilt ; and that 
you can only escape condemnation through Christ, who 
died, the just for the unjust ? 

If such be your sentiments, assuredly you must love 
Christ ; and if you love him at all, it must be with a su- 
preme affection. Is this the case? Are you ready to for- 
sake all for him ? Is it your daily study to testify your 
regard for him, by obeying all his commandments ? Have 
you begun to deny yourself, to take up the cross and follow 
Christ ? Do you, like Moses, esteem the reproach of Christ 

VOL. in. 26* 



6 A WORD IN SEASON 

greater riches than the world can bestow ? Or would you 
be ashamed of being thought more religious than your neigh- 
bors ? Perhaps you are afraid of being laughed at; but, 
remember, that he who thus denieth Christ befo*re men, shall 
be denied by him, when he would willingly court his appro- 
bation. If you will be his disciples, you must love him more 
than father or mother, or wife or children, yea, than your 
own life. 

And is he not worthy of such love ? He who, " though 
he was rich, for our sakes became poor ?" the eternal Je- 
hovah, who dwelt among men, and purchased his church 
with his own blood ? Did the God of glory take on him our 
nature ? Did he bleed and die for rebels and enemies ? 
And shall we think it a great return for such love, to pre- 
fer him above all this vain world can bestow ? Was ever 
sorrow like the sorrow he endured, when the Lord laid on 
him the iniquities of us all ? when his sweat was as it were 
great drops of blood ; when in an agony he prayed in the 
garden ; when he cried out upon the cross. My God, my 
God, why hast thou forsaken me ? Is it not a mockery to 
talk of believing these things, and not to be affected by them ? 

Do you know the power of God's wrath ? Have you 
weighed the consideration of an eternity of woe ? Do you 
believe what God declares, that the voluntary sufferings of 
Christ prevented the destruction of the whole world ? that 
if you escape damnation, it is wholly owing to what Christ 
has done ? Have you a hope of escaping, and can you re- 
fuse to love him supremely on whom alone such hope must 
rest ? Have you considered the long-suffering of Jesus, 
whose name is daily blasphemed in the world : who yet still 
continues to invite his most inveterate enemies to be recon- 
ciled to him ; spares their lives ; loads them with benefits ; 
assures them of pardon and righteousness, without money 
and without price ? While they spurn his benefits ; treat his 
invitations with contempt, going one to his farm and another 
to his merchandise ; seeking for happiness where it never 



A WORD IN SEASON. 7 

can be found ; he mildly reasons with them : " Wherefore 
will ye spend your money for that which is not bread, and 
your labor for that which satisfieth not ? Hearken diligently 
unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul 
delight itself in fatness." 

Allow us to ask, Have you found the satisfaction in the 
world which you expected ? No ; you have been, you must 
be disappointed : and will you yet persevere ? Will you not 
listen to Christ, who bestows durable riches and righteous- 
ness ? Let us beseech you, reader, by the mercies of God, 
not to ruin your soul. Behold in Christ a Saviour exactly 
suited to your need ? You are guilty ; he hath made atone- 
ment. Your heart is hard and impenitent ; he is exalted to 
give repentance and remission of sins. With him is the 
residue of the Spirit; he can change your heart. Cast 
yourself on his mercy, depend on him alone, and you shall 
have your fruit unto holiness, and the end shall be eternal 
life. Sin shall not have dominion over you. 

You may in earnest resolve to forsake sin, but in time 
of temptation your resolutions will be forgotten. If you 
desire to be holy — and without holiness no man shall see 
the Lord — be convinced you cannot sanctify yourself, and 
apply for help to Christ. He came to save his people from 
their sins, and thus to make them meet for the inheritance 
of the saints in light. If you could do this for yourself, you 
would have no need of Christ. Trust then in the Lord 
Jesus, and you shall not be disappointed. Be it known unto 
you, that through this man is preached unto you the forgive- 
ness of sins, and by him all that believe are justified from all 
things. They are imbued with his Holy Spirit ; they become 
partakers of the divine nature, and escape the corruption that 
is in the world through lust. 

We refer you to the Scriptures for the truth of what you 
have read. A man who had lived in every abomination, 
said, on his death-bed, that the love of -sin was the only 
weighty objection against the truth of Scripture. Take 



8 A WORD IN SEASON. 

care lest the love of the world, or the love of sin, should 
continue to harden your heart against the word of God. 
Beware lest you love the praise of men more than the praise 
of God. 

The Gospel of salvation through Christ is the touchstone 
which discovers the temper of the heart towards God. If 
you remain without making your eternal salvation the chief 
object of your concern, or if, after having heard the Gospel, 
you attempt to save yourself, by any thing you can do, thus 
going about to establish your own righteousness, you show 
yourself an enemy to God, and a despiser of his grace, and 
if you die in that condition, you are lost for ever. 

Now, God beseeches you to cast down the weapons of 
rebellion, and to be reconciled to him. He declares his 
amazing love to sinners, in not sparing his own Son ; and if 
this does not melt your heart, you are undone. It is the only 
medicine which can cure your soul. If you reject this, there 
is no remedy ; " there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, 
but a certain fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery in- 
dignation, which shall devour " you as an adversary of God. 
But if you really believe on Jesus, the effects of this faith 
will be a satisfactory evidence, both to yourself and others, 
that you have not followed cunningly-devised fables, but that 
it is the true grace of God wherein you stand. All sin will 
be hateful in your eyes. The love of God shall increasingly 
be shed abroad in your heart. Prayer will be your delight 
instead of being a burden, and all shall take knowledge of 
you that you have been with Jesus. Thus, through faith in 
him who overcame the world, you shall be more than con- 
queror ; and having triumphed over death, the last enemy, 
you shall sit down with him on his throne ; you shall inherit 
all things, and he will be your God for ever. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



:vo. 91. 

PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION 

FROM AN ADDRESS 

BY REV. BENJAMIN TRUMBULL, D. D., 

NORTH HAVEN, CONN., 1803. 



Beloved Brethren and Friends — Prayer is not only 
an indispensable duty, but an inestimable privilege. It is 
an important part of that worship which all men owe to 
God, and so essential to religion, that without it there can 
be none. It affords the noblest relief and support to the 
Christian in all his dangers and distresses : it is an impor- 
tant means of his growth in grace, of communion with the 
Father of his spirit, of overcoming the world, and of ob- 
taininty the inheritance of the saints in licrht. It has great 
prevalence in averting divine judgments from a people, and 
in obtaining for them the richest blessings. It is the surest 
defence of individuals, families, and whole nations. 

Family religion, including prayer, pious instruction, and 
government, is no less important. On these two very much 
depend the religion, comfort, and salvation of individuals, 
the religion, good order, honor, and prosperity of families, 
of the church, and commonwealth. In these the divine 
honor, and the present and endless happiness of men are 
most deeply concerned. Scarcely any thing, among a peo- 
ple whose fathers were men of prayer, and who, like Abra- 
ham, have commanded that their children and households 
after them should keep the way of the Lord, Gen, 18 : 19, 
can be a greater apostasy, than a casting off fear, and 
restraining prayer before God, and the neglect of family 



2 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

religion. It is at once sinking down from a state of Chris- 
tianity, under the light of the glorious Gospel, into a state 
of heathenism. It is at the same time awfully calculated to 
bring down the wrath of God on all such children of im- 
piety and disobedience. If men will forsake God, he will 
cast them off for ever. 1 Chron. 28 : 9. 

Prayer is certainly an act oi natural toorship. If there 
be a God of infinite perfection, nothing is more certain than 
that he ought to be worshipped as such ; and prayer is a 
principal part of that homage which we owe him, as our 
Creator, constant Preserver, and Benefactor. His perfec- 
tions challenge our supreme love and most perfect obe- 
dience ; his daily care over us and countless mercies towards 
us, claim our continual thanksgivings ; our daily sins demand 
our constant penitential supplications for his pardoning good- 
ness ; and our continual wants, that we should always be 
asking his help. Prayer, therefore, is but our reasonable 
service. It is founded in the very nature of things, in the 
infinite perfections of God, in our relations to him and de- 
pendence on him. The very heathen cried every man to his 
god. They sacrificed, and made vows. Jonah 1 : 5, 16. 

Further, the express commands of God oblige men, in 
all places and circumstances, to pray to him ; to pray with 
all kinds of prayer and supplication ; to pray without ceas- 
ing, and without fainting. It is written, " Trust in him at 
all times ; ye people, pour out your hearts before him." 
Psalm 62 : 8. " I will therefore that men pray everywhere, 
lifting up holy hands, without wrath and doubting." 1 Tim. 
2 : 8. Jesus Christ abundantly inculcated the duty of 
prayer. " He spake a parable to this end, that men ought 
always to pray, and not to faint." Luke 18: 1. He com- 
manded, that men should watch and pray always. He ex- 
pressly enjoined this as absolutely necessary to guard them 
from temptation, to give them victory over the Avorld, and 
that they might stand before him with victory and triumph 
at the last day. " Watch and pray, that ye enter not into 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 3 

temptation." Matt. 26: 41. ''Watch ye, therefore, and 
pray always, that ye may be accounted worthy to escape 
all these things which shall come to pass, and to stand 
before the Son of man." Luke 21 : 36, compared with 
chapter 22 : 40, 46. The apostles were no less express and 
abundant in inculcating this great duty. This was their 
language to the churches : " Pray without ceasing." 1 Thess.. 
5:17. " Watch unto prayer." 1 Peter, 4:7. *' Praying 
always with all prayer and supplication in the spirit, and 
watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication 
for all saints." Eph. 6 : 18. These passages expressly 
command men to pray always ; never to cease praying at 
the proper times and occasions of prayer ; that men watch 
for those times and occasions ; that they should not fail of 
attending and improving them to their edification and com- 
fort ; and that they should watch their hearts, that they may 
always be in a suitable frame for prayer ; that they should 
pray with all kinds of prayer used among Christians, and 
persevere in them to the end. The apostle Paul enjoins 
this praying always with all prayer, as of the highest neces- 
sity for Christians, that they may succeed in their spiritual 
warfare ; even after they have taken the whole armor of 
God, and done all things else to stand. Without this they 
never can stand and wdn the field. Thus abundantly is 
prayer enjoined, and the necessity of it shown, and the duty 
pressed upon all men universally, by our blessed Saviour and 
his apostles. 

Secret prayer is expressly commanded by Christ, who 
was a remarkable example of prayer. " But thou, when 
thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut 
thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret ; and thy 
Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly." 
Matt. Q:Q. He not only commanded this, and encouraged 
it by a most gracious promise of an open reward, but rec- 
ommended it by his example. He retired into mountains 
and solitary places, and it seems, sometimes spent whole 



4 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

nights in prayer. " And it came to pass in those days, that 
he went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all 
night in prayer to God." Luke 6 : 12. How- doth this 
command and example of Christ, teach and oblige all men 
to be constant and abundant in secret prayer, and in the 
secret duties of religion. 

Further, as all kinds of prayer are expressly commanded, 
''praying always with all prayer and supplication," family 
PRAYER is included. This certainly is one kind of prayer. 
All heads of families are therefore indispensably obliged, by 
the divine authority and express precept, to pray with their 
respective households. Besides, as reason teacheth us to 
pray in general, and as we are expressly commanded to 
pray to God in secret, because he is worthy to be worship- 
ped, because we are his creatures and owe him all the 
homage of our hearts and lives, because we are entirely 
dependent on him and have innumerable wants which he 
only can supply, because he loads us with his benefits, 
and because we are sinners and must perish without his 
pardoning mercy, so families for the same reasons are cer- 
tainly bound to pray. There are all the reasons for family 
prayer which there are for secret prayer, Nay, there are 
more, and some of greater consideration. Families owe no 
less homage to God than individuals. They are no less de- 
pendent. They all have family wants and blessings, have 
family sins, and must be miserable without the divine favor. 
The religion of a whole family, its order and prosperity, are 
more important than those of an individual. More good, 
other things being equal, is done ; more are instructed and 
edified. God is more visibly honored. 

If secret prayer, therefore, be an indispensable duty, 
family prayer must be much more so. Indeed, we are 
taught this by the most important and forcible Scripture 
examples. What less could be included in the resolution 
of Joshua, " As for me and my house, we will serve the 
Lord," Josh. 24 : 15, than family prayer, and all pious and 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 5 

useful family instruction ? What can be designed by Da- 
vid's returning to bless his house, but to pray with his 
family ? 2 Sara. 6:20. What was the praying of Daniel 
three times a day in his house, but family prayer ? Dan. 
6 : 10. Had it been secret prayer, his enemies could not 
have known it, they could not have proved it, or expected 
to have obtained any advantage against him on that account. 
What were the prayers of Cornelius in his house, but pray- 
ers with his family? Acts 10 : 2, 30. 

Our divine Master has added his example to that of 
pious men. He prayed alone Avith his disciples, who were 
his constant family. " And it came to pass, as he was alone 
praying, his disciples were with him." Luke 9 : 18. How 
remarkably did he pray with them, and for them, just before 
his passion. John 1*7. He not only prayed with them, but 
taught them to pray with one another, or among themselves, 
as a family. The prayer which he taught was a social 
prayer. This was the form of it : " Our Father, which art 
in heaven, give us this day our daily bread : lead us not 
into temptation, but deliver us from evil." This could not 
be secret prayer, because the terms are plural. It was 
given as a form particularly for his disciples, for the then 
present time, while they continued together as one family ; 
for after his resurrection and the introduction of Christian- 
ity, he taught them to pray and ask every thing in his name. 
Do not the examples of these ancient saints, and much more 
the instructions and example of Christ, clearly teach us the 
will of God with respect to this duty, and lay indispensable 
obligations on all Christians to practise family prayer ? 

But further, do not all the commands which oblige par- 
eyits to educate their children for God, bind them constantly 
to pray with and for their families ? Can any family be a 
religious family, educated for God, without prayer ? Cer- 
tainly it cannot. But God has given the most strict and 
abundant commands, that his people shall instruct their 
children in the doctrines and duties of religion, and educate 



6 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

them for him. " And the words which I command thee 
this day, shall be in thine heart. And thou shalt teach 
them diligently imto thy children, and shalt talk of them 
when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by 
the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest 
up." Deut. 6 : 6, Y. "For he established a testimony in 
Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded 
our fathers, that they should make them known to their 
children. That the generation to come might know them, 
even the children which should be born, who should arise 
and declare them to their children ; that they might set 
their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but 
keep his commandments ; and might not be as their fathers, 
a stubborn and rebellious generation ; a generation that set 
not their heart aright, and whose spirit was not steadfast 
with God." Psalm 78 : 5-8. "Train up a child in the 
Avay he should go ; and when he is old, he will not depart 
from it." Prov. 22 : 6. "Bring them up in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord." Eph. 6 : 4. Nothing can 
be more expressly and strongly enjoined, than the good 
instruction and government of children in these Scripture 
passages. Nothing can more fully show how much the 
divine mind is engaged in them, or how necessary and im- 
portant they are in the divine view. The passages imply 
that a pious education of children is the most probable and 
certain way to engage them to walk in the path of life, and 
never to turn from it. God has commanded parents most 
diligently and laboriously to instruct their children by pre- 
cept, example, and all means in their power, and to bring 
them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, that 
they may set their hope in God, and not forget his works, 
but keep his commandments. The Scriptures import that 
if this be not done, children will be a stubborn and rebel- 
lious generation, who will not set their hearts aright, and 
whose spirit will not be steadfast with God. 

Universal observation and experience teach the happy 



I 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 7 

effects of a pious education. Nothing, perhaps, in the power 
of man, can lay such a foundation for the welfare of indi- 
viduals, of families, and all communities, civil or relio-ious, 
as this. The principles which men imbibe in youth, the 
impressions made, and the habits which are then formed, 
commonly grow up with them, continue through life, and 
as that advances grow more fixed and operative. The 
Jews, therefore, compared that which a child learned to 
writing upon clean and elegant paper, which might always 
be seen and read. Jerome compared the impressions made 
on young minds, and habits formed in early life, to locks 
of wool dyed in scarlet, which never could be reduced to 
their original whiteness. Children trained in the knowledge 
and fear of God, have been the seed, support, and orna- 
ment of the church, from age to age. Hence, this observa- 
tion of Calvin, " that if we would have the church flourish, 
we must begin in the good instruction of children." 

It is of the highest imaginable importance to them, with 
respect to their usefulness to themselves and others, and to 
their present and future happiness. It is a powerful restraint 
from those errors and vices, by which persons often bring 
shame, misery, and ruin upon themselves. It makes them 
orderly, peaceable, submissive, and dutiful, and through the 
blessing of God, is a special means of their salvation. It is 
very essential to the peace, honor, and beauty of a family. 
It makes children the crown and joy of their parents, the 
support and solace of their declining j^ears. Pious parents 
have no greater joy than this, to see their children walking 
in the truth ; to have communion with them in the private 
and public duties and ordinances of religion ; to have the 
pleasing hope that they are born of God, that he has given 
them a spirit of adoption, and that they are striving together 
with them in their prayers to God for themselves, for them, 
and the church universal ; and to have the prospect that 
they shall enjoy them for ever in the great and blessed 
family of heaven. What sweet fruits are these of the good 



8 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

education of children. It makes them good members of 
society, the ornaments and pillars of the church and of the 
state. 

Further, this is of infinite moment not only to the pres- 
ent age, but to generations yet unborn. If ye train up your 
children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, they 
will probably train up their children in the same manner, 
and so piety may, through the blessing of God, whose mercy 
is upon them who fear him unto a thousand generations, 
be continued from age to age. The manner in which you 
shall educate your children, their piety or wickedness, will, 
in their consequences, give a general tone and character to 
future generations, and be the means of transmitting holi- 
ness and happiness, or pollution and misery, to unborn ages. 

In this view, how great is the guilt incurred in neglect- 
ing family religion and good government. It is sinning 
against the express commands of God, against all his good- 
ness and mercy in giving you families and preserving them. 
It is sinning against yourselves, against the children which 
God has graciously given you, against the church and com- 
monwealth, and against the ages which are yet to be born. 
This is a kind of unpardonable sin. '' For I have told him, 
that I will judge his house for ever, for the iniquity which 
he knoweth ; because his sons made themselves vile, and he 
restrained them not. And therefore I have sworn unto the 
house of Eli, that the iniquity of Eli's house shall not be 
purged with sacrifice nor offering for ever." 1 Sam. 3 : 13, 14. 
This, in a peculiar manner, is that iniquity of the fathers, 
which an offended God visits upon their children, unto the 
third and fourth generation of them that hate him. Exod. 
20 : 5. When their fathers are impious, neglect tlieir edu- 
cation, and set them evil examples, they cause them to 
become, " as their fathers, a stubborn and rebellious gener- 
ation." Their fathers' sins become the very sins of their 
children, and so it proceeds from one generation to another ; 
and because of their sins, God withholds his Spirit and grace 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 9 

from tliem, and his wrath comes on such children of impiety 
and disobedience, for many successive ages. How ought 
ye all, therefore, to fear and tremble at this sin ! 

But how can you avoid this guilt, and escape the eternal 
execration of your own dear oftspring, and of ages to come ? 
How will you instruct and educate them for God, while you 
neglect to pray with them and for them ? Is not prayer a 
very essential part of family religion ? Can there be any 
true religion or Christianity without it ? Are not prayer- 
less families rather heathen, than Christian families ? Fam- 
ihes of heathen under the light of the Gospel ? Archbishop 
Tillotson, in his sermons on family religion, speaking of daily 
prayers to God, morning and evening, and of reading the 
Scriptures at the same time, says, " Where it is neglected, 
I do not see how any family can in reason be esteemed a 
family of Christians, or indeed to have any religion at all." 
Prayer is an important part of that worship and religion 
which God requires of you and of your children. It is an 
important part of that religion, which you are bound to teach 
them. It is one of the most solemn and impressive of all 
means of instruction. In this we acknowledge the being, 
greatness, infinite perfections, dominion, and consummate 
blessedness of God. We confess our sin and misery, and ask 
pardon in the name of Jesus Christ, as the Lord our right- 
eousness. We acknowledge the mercies of God, our de- 
pendence on him, and recognize the principal doctrines and 
duties of our holy religion. How is it possible to teach so 
many, and such momentous things, in any other way, so 
solemnly, and to such advantage ? Is there any thing which 
is calculated so deeply to impress the minds of your chil- 
dren and domestics with a sense of the reality of the divine 
existence, of an universal Providence, of their fallen, miser- 
able condition, of their need of a Saviour, that Jesus is the 
Christ, and that there is salvation in no other ? What else 
is so calculated to fix in their minds a sense of the reality 
and importance of religion ? What can so convince them 
VOL. III. 27* 



10 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

of your concern for their souls and bodies, as your reading 
the Scriptures to them, and praying affectionately for them, 
and with them ? What other method can so effectually 
teach them to pray, and engage them in the habit of prayer ? 

Further, family prayer gives dignity and importance to 
heads of families in their own houses, and an additional 
weight and influence to all their instructions, counsels, and 
reproofs. It gives weight to their authority, and is an im- 
portant means of order and decency in families. Every head 
of a family is a king and priest in his own house. Precious 
souls are committed to his care, and he is by God's ap- 
pointment to instruct and govern them for him, to offer 
their prayers and praises to him, and to be a continual in- 
tercessor for them. A most solemn charge is committed to 
him, the charge of souls, and he must account for them. 
He needs continual sjrace and influence to dischara^e his hio^h 
trust, and that he may render his account with joy, saying, 
" Here am I, and the children thou hast graciously given 
me." Prayer is an appointed means of obtaining all needed 
grace and wisdom, and does much to qualify heads of fam- 
ilies for the arduous duties to which God in his providence 
has appointed them. Their reading and praying with their 
families, as their religious head, awakens respect, and gives 
them a commanding influence over them. It greatly assists 
and strenn^thens them in the o-overnment of their families, in 
restraining them from sin, and in engaging them in the 
practice of piety and righteousness. 

Continual family prayer, at the same time, will have a 
direct and powerful tendency to secure the blessing of God 
on all your instructions and labors, in bringing them up for 
him. This will also give a consistency to your conduct. 
But how can you expect his blessing on yourselves, your 
instructions, or your children, while you neglect to ask it ? 
What consistency, or sincerity, will there appear to be in 
your religious instructions and counsels to them, while you 
cast off fear, restrain prayer, and neglect religion yourselves ? 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. H 

Will not your neglect teach them not to pray, weaken your 
authority and influence, and render all your religious in- 
structions, counsels, and waminors, of little weisfht with 
them ? Will you not more than unteach by youi' example, 
all you attempt to teach by precept ? Of what immense 
importance, in these views, is family prayer and religion. 
Besides, do not all the commands of God, which enjoin love 
to him and mankind, a regard to his honor, to the prosper- 
ity of Zion, or the good of men, bind you indispensably to 
this duty ? Most certainly they do, since your own comfort 
and salvation, the peace, order, and happiness of your fam- 
iUes, the usefulness, honor, and salvation of your children, 
the glory of God and the advancement of his kingdom, are 
deeply concerned in it. 

It may further be observed, that family prayer may be 
urged upon the same principles that any social or public 
worship can be. If the perfections of God, his creating 
goodness and countless mercies ; if our dependence on him, 
our guilty, helpless condition, and need of his help ; if the 
honor of God, our own edification and comfort, or the in- 
struction and edification of others, render public worship a 
duty, they all equally bind men to the worship of God in 
their families. If the examples of the saints, and of our 
blessed Lord, teach the one, they also teach the other. 

Indeed, the common sense and feelings of mankind teach, 
that when a family or community have offended a piince or 
benefactor, they should jointly, by the head of the family, 
or some other person in their name, confess their faults and 
seek reconcihation. When " Herod was highly displeased 
with them of Tyre and Sidon, they came with one accord 
to him, and ha\"inof made Blastus the kingr's chamberlain 
theu' friend, desired peace, because theu' country was nour- 
ished by the king's country." Acts 12 : 20. When fami- 
lies, or particular communities, have received rich and 
repeated favors from a prince, or some noble benefactor, 
theii' natural feelings and good sense teach them to acknow- 



12 PRAYER Ax\D FA JULY RELIGION. 

ledge sucli favors. How much more do they teach famihes 
to confess their faults, and seek reconciliation to God, and 
to bless him for his countless mercies. Is he the only- 
Being to whom guilty, dependent families are not obhged 
to confess their faults ; with whom they are under no obli- 
gations to be reconciled ; and to whom they are not bound 
to give thanks for all his benefits ? An appeal is made to 
your reason and conscience. Let them seriously determine 
the point. 

Praying always with all prayer, comprises PUBLib prayer 
in the house of God, and in the assemblies of his people, 
wherever they may be convened. It implies your being 
instant in season and out of season, to offer your prayers 
and praises to God, and to supplicate his mercies, as Avell 
as to hear his word ; and that you by no means neglect the 
assembling of yourselves together, as the manner of some is. 
Heb. 10 : 25. God has commanded his ministers to " preach 
the word," to " be instant in season and out of season," 2 
Tim. 4:2; and this implies the duty of the people con- 
stantly to attend to offer their public prayers and praises to 
God, and hear the word dispensed. Whenever' it is the 
duty of ministers to pray and preach in public, it is the duty 
of the people to hear. Public social worship has been 
sanctioned by divine institution, and by the example of the 
saints from the commencement of the Jewish and Christian 
churches unto the present time. Good men have always 
been remarkable for their love to the house of God, and 
attendance on public worship. • This was the language of 
David and the pious Jews : '* One thing have I desired of the 
Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may dAvell in the house 
of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty 
of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple." Psalm 27 : 4. 
*• How amiable are thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts ! My 
soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord ; 
for a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. Blessed 
are they that dwell in thy house ; they will be still praising 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 13 

thee." Psalm 84 : 1, 2, 4, 10. This was their resolution: 
"Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem." 
Psalm 122 : 2. The prophets Isaiah, Micah, and Zechariah 
represent that, in the days of the Messiah, when the Spirit 
shall be poured upon mankind, there will be an uncommon 
zeal for public worship. All nations shall flow together to 
the house of God. Isaiah 2:2, 3, and Micah 4:1,2. " The 
inhabitants of one city shall go to another, saying, Let us 
go speedily to pray before the Lord, and to seek the Lord 
of hosts : I will go also." Zech. 8 : 20-22. This is the 
very spirit of God's children towards his house and wor- 
ship. How abundant were the primitive Christians in their 
public prayers and praises. They " were continually in the 
temple, praising and blessing God." Luke 24 : 53. " They 
continued steadfastly in the apostles' doctrine, and in pray- 
ers ; and were continually in the temple, praising God." 
Acts 2 : 42, 46. This was remarkably the spirit of Christ. 
Where was he found at twelve years old, but in the temple, 
attending its public instructions ? It is written of him, 
*'The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up." Psalm 69 : 9. 
No person who does not love public worship has his spirit, 
or can be his disciple. No man who does not delight in 
public worship, and the communion of the saints in this 
world, can ever be qualified for the worship of God's tem- 
ple above, or be admitted to the society and blessedness of 
the church of the first-born, which are \vritten in heaven. 

Public worship is one of the most important means 
of instruction, edification, communion with God, and all 
divine consolation : in the house of God it is that his people 
see his power and glory, and are satisfied as with marrow 
and fatness. This is the birthplace of the saints. When 
God writeth up the people, it shall be said of Zion, that this 
and that man was born in her. Faith comes by hearing. 
By the foolishness of preaching it pleased God to save them 
that believe. Public worship is the brightest emblem of 
heaven, and most wisely adapted to prepare those who will 



14 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

devoutly attend upon it for that blest abode. The blessing 
of the Lord is upon those who attend it, and his curse is 
denounced upon all those who neglect it, in the days of the 
Messiah. " Blessed are they that dwell in thine house ; 
they will be still praising thee." Psalm 84 : 4. " Blessed 
is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, and 
waiting at the posts of my doors." Prov. 8 : 34. On the 
other hand, those who will not publicly worship God, are 
threatened with drought, famine, and death. " And it shall 
be, that whoso will not come up of all the families of the 
earth unto Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord of 
hosts, even upon them shall be no rain. And if the family 
of Egypt go not up, and come not, that have no rain, there 
shall be the plague, wherewith the Lord shall smite the 
heathen that come not up to keep the feast of tabernacles." 
Zech, 14: 17, 18. With what constancy, zeal, and devo- 
tion, should all go to pray before the Lord. How should 
every one resolve, " I will go also.'" 

Praying always with all prayer and supplication, as the 
divine precept enjoins, comprises ejaculatory prayer ; or an 
offering up of short mental petitions and praises to God, as 
occasions may require, when journeying or laboring, when 
sitting or walking. They may be oftered at all times, and 
in all places. This is a constant recollection, that we are in 
the presence of God ; and it greatly contributes to keep us 
always in his fear. Many are the examples of it in the 
Scriptures, especially in the Psalms. I am persuaded that 
all persons who have attained to any considerable degree 
of piety, have been much exercised in this kind of prayer. 
They will rarely close their eyes in the evening, or open 
them in the morning, without it. Immediate dangers, 
temptations, unexpected mercies, or deliverances, will en- 
gage the soul in short prayers and praises. Prayer is the 
very breath of the Christian's heart, by which he maintains 
a constant course of communion with God. His eyes, like 
David's, "are ever towards the Lord." Psalm 25 : 15. 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 15 

Praying always with all prayer and supplication, also 
includes the acknowledgment of God at your tables. Our 
divine Master has taught us to pray, " Give us this day our 
daily bread ;" and by his example, to ask his blessing in the 
participation of it. It is also expressly commanded, that 
we should '* give thanks for all things in the name of our 
Lord Jesus Christ." Eph. 5 : 20. 

This is that life of prayer which all true Christians live. 
They not only pray with all prayer and supplication, with 
all perseverance therein, but they pray in the spirit, wor- 
shipping the Father, in spirit and in truth. They are all 
the seed of Jacob, and know how to wrestle with God in 
prayer. They have all the spirit of Christ, and delight in 
drawing near to God. " Because they are sons, God hath 
sent forth the Spirit of his Son into their hearts, crying, 
Abba, Father." Gal. 4 : 6. This is that life of prayer 
which the Scriptures enjoin, which the examples of the 
saints and the perfect example of our Saviour recommend. 
It is that life which every good man desires and determines, 
by the grace of God, to live, and which is most earnestly 
recommended to all persons to whom this address shall 
come. 

To engage you in such a pious and happy life, you are 
most seriously entreated to contemplate, not only the com- 
mands, but the example of Christ, and the resolutions and 
examples of the saints. *'As for me," saith the Psalmist, " I 
will call upon God : evening and morning, and at noon will 
I pray, and cry aloud." Psalm 55 : l7, "Seven times a 
day will I praise thee." Psalm 119: 164. "I will bless 
the Lord at all times : his praise shall be continually in my 
mouth." Psalm 34 : 1. How did Moses, Job, Samuel, 
Elijah, Daniel, the apostles, and primitive Christians pray. 
How did Jesus Christ pray, night and day, while he taber- 
nacled in flesh, " offering up prayers and supplications, with 
strong crying and tears, unto Him that was able to save 
him from death." Are you not under indispensable obli- 



16 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

gations to follow these examples? Know ye not, "that if 
any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his ?" 
If ye will not be followers of those who inherit the prom- 
ises, ye certainly can never inherit with them. 

But further, be persuaded to pray from a consideration 
of the ADVANTAGES of prayer. These are not only great and 
numerous, but they are lasting as eternity. Prayer is a 
direct address to God, as omniscient and omnipresent, as 
directing and governing all creatures and things in heaven 
and in earth. It is an offering up of our desires to him, in 
the name of Christ, for things agreeable to his will. It is 
an explicit acknowledgment of his being and perfections, 
and that he is the God of all grace and consolation. It is 
a fixed and solemn meditation on him, his goodness and 
glory, as in his very presence. In this view, it is one of the 
most important of all means to impress the mind with a deep 
sense of the certainty of his existence, of the glory of his 
majesty, that he is always with us, that his eye is always 
upon us, and to keep him always in our minds, and before 
our eyes. By praying without ceasing, morning and even- 
ing, in secret and in private, by addressing him in short 
petitions and thanksgivings at noon, and by presenting the 
desires and feelings of our hearts before him in mental 
ejaculations, an habitual sense of God, of our dependence 
on him, and obligations to him, are fixed in our minds, and 
we are led to the most adoring ideas of his infinite majesty. 
While, in this solemn manner, we meditate on him and his 
infinite perfections, it is most happily adapted to humble us 
before him, to beget confidence in his wisdom, power, and 
goodness, a holy reverence of him, and a sense of the bless- 
edness of having such a God for our eternal Father and 
portion. At the same time, it is calculated to impress the 
heart Avith an awful sense of the danger and dreadful con- 
sequences of his displeasure. In this way the saints ac- 
quaint themselves with God, advance in peace, comfort, and 
sanctification. " Beholding as in a glass the glory of God, 



PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 17 

tliey are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, 
even as by the Spirit of the Lord." 2 Cor. 3 : 18. 

Further, prayer has a happy tendency to familiarize to 
our minds the principal doctrines of religion, and to estah- 
lish us in the truth. While we confess our apostasy and 
exceeding sinfulness ; while we pray for pardon, adoption, 
sanctification, and eternal life through the atoning death 
and perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ, and ask all bless- 
ings and offer all our praises in his name, the whole ten- 
dency of it is to fix deeply and habitually in our hearts, the 
belief of the great doctrines of original sin, of our inexcus- 
able wickedness, of the necessity of regeneration, of justifi- 
cation, adoption, and sanctification, wholly through a Re- 
deemer. It confirms us more and more in this, that Jesus 
is the Christ, that he is mighty to save, and that there is 
salvation in no other. While we supphcate divine help to 
perform the duties of piety, righteousness, charity, forgive- 
ness, patience, and sobriety, it is calculated to keep alive a 
sense of these duties in our hearts, and to establish us in 
the practice of them. Our supplications not to be led into 
temptation, but to be delivered from evil, have a powerful 
tendency to make us afraid and cautious with respect to 
sin, and to make us flee the very appearance of evil. Our 
acknowledgments of the divine mercies are adapted to keep 
them in continual remembrance, and to make us always 
thankful. 

Praj^er is also an ordinance in which God's people ohtain 
release from guilt, distress, and so7'roiv, and exper^ience great 
comfort and joy. The Psalmist bears witness that it is 
"good to draAV near to God." Psalm 73 : 28. What com- 
fort and deliverance did Jacob obtain by prayer, when he 
had power with God and prevailed, and the Lord delivered 
him from his brother Esau. What sweet release from guilt 
did David experience in prayer. " His bones waxed old by 
reason of his roaring all the day ;" but when he " acknowledg- 
ed his transgression, God forgave the iniquity of his sin. For 
VOL. III. 28 



18 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

this," says lie, " shall every one that is godly pray imto thee 
in a time when thou mayest be found." Psalm 32 :-8-6. 
How was Hannah comforted and blessed in prayer. She 
had been a woman of a sorrowful spirit ; but in prayer she 
was comforted, and her coimtenance was no more sad. 1 
Sam. 1 : 15, 18. What blessings did Moses, Samuel, Eli- 
jah, Daniel, the apostles, and primitive Christians obtain by 
prayer. How was Israel saved by prayer, when the Lord 
was about to come up into the midst of them, and consume 
them in a moment. What deliverances and victories did 
they obtain for the church of God. When Moses held up 
his hands, how was Amalek discomfited. When Samuel 
cried unto the Lord, how did he thunder upon the enemies 
of Israel, and save his people. How did they obtain victo- 
ries, stay, and open the bottles of heaven, stop the mouths 
of lions, shake the foundations of prisons, and open the gates 
of iron. What blessings have been obtained for individuals, 
for families, and the church of God, by prayer. Is it not 
through prayer that Zion prospers and enjoys peace ? Is it 
not through this, that she is established ? That her right- 
eousness shall go forth as brightness, and her salvation as 
a lamp that burneth ? That Jerusalem shall be made a 
praise in the earth ? The effectual fervent prayer of every 
righteous man availeth much. Whenever God's people 
draw near to him, he will draw nigh to them, in a way of 
special grace, to deliver them in danger, to comfort them in 
soiTOw, to increase their faith, and love, and hope, and joy, 
and all the fruits of their righteousness. " He will fulfil 
the desire of them that fear him : he will hear their cry, and 
save them." Psalm 145 : 19. He gives all new covenant 
blessings, even eternal salvation in answer to prayer. " For 
whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be 
saved." Rom. 10 : 13. 

The more Christians pray with the spirit of adoption — 
the more they are habituated to it — the more sweet and 
sensible is their communion with the Father, and with his 



PRAYER AND FA5ULY RELIGION. 19 

Son Jesus Christ ; the more they edify themselves and grow 
in grace ; the more they edify their famihes, the church of 
God, and all with whom they have occasion to pray ; and 
the more they avert the divine judgments, and turn away 
wrath from a people. The more they call down blessings 
upon themselves, and families, and the Israel of God, the 
greater also will be their reward in the day of the appear- 
ing and kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ ; for every prayer 
offered in his name will receive a divine, an everlasting 
reward. Even the prayers which have been made in their 
most secret retirement, shall be rewarded openly. How 
vast and numerous, in these views, are the advantages of 
prayer. They are not merely temporal, but spiritual and 
eternal. What motives does this sketch of the advantages 
of prayer exhibit, to engage all to arise without delay, and 
call upon the name of the Lord. To pray always, and not 
to faint. 

The encourarjementsyi\{\Q\\ God hath given you to pray, 
are indeed many and great beyond calculation. All the 
advantages of pra3^er are so many encouragements to pray. 
The goodness of God is a vast encouragement to pray to 
him always. The greater the goodness of a prince or 
benefactor is, the more easy of access, the greater is the 
encouragement to ask his favor. But God is infinitely and 
unchangeably good, and most easy of access. He is always 
nigh unto them who call upon him in truth. The poorest, 
the vilest, the most helpless and forlorn may approach unto 
him, through Christ Jesus, and be accepted in him. They 
may pray to him at all times, in all places, and upon all 
emergencies. They may make known unto him all their 
wants, and he will supply them. He is rich unto all who 
call upon him. AVhat encouragements are these to pray ! 

God's erecting a throne of grace, and opening a way to 
the mercy-seat, at the expense of the precious blood of his 
own Son, is a further encouragement. He who hath done 
so much that sinners might have access to him, must be 



20 PRAYER AND FAMILY RELIGION. 

most ready and willing to hear their prayers, and to com- 
municate all blessings to them through a Redeemer. " He 
who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us 
all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things ?'* 
Rom. 8 : 32. That if any man sin, we have such an advo- 
cate with the Father, even Jesus Christ the righteous, is a 
great encouragement to pray. But as though all these en- 
couragements were not sufficient to show his willinojness to 
hear, he has represented himself as the God ''who heareth 
prayer ;" as though it were his very name and nature to hear 
prayer. " thou that hearest prayer, unto thee shall all 
flesh come." Psalm 65 : 2. With this representation his 
promises perfectly correspond. This is the general tenor of 
them : " And shall it come to pass, that before they call, I 
will answer ; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." 
Isaiah 65 : 24. "Ask, and it shall be given you: for every 
one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and 
to him that knocketh, it shall be opened." Matt. 1:1,8. 
Not one humble, praying soul ever once prayed in vain. 
No, not one, however guilty and despised in this world, 
ever went, in the name of Jesus, to the throne of grace, and 
departed imheard and unblest. It is written, " I said not 
to the seed of Jacob, Seek ye me in vain." Isaiah 45 : 19. 
" If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it for you." 
John 14 : 13, and 15 : 16. God is more ready to give his 
Holy Spirit, heaven with all its glory, to those who ask 
him, than the kindest parents are to give bread to their 
dearest offspring. " If ye then, being evil, know how to 
give good gifts unto your children ; how much more shall 
your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit unto them that 
ask him?" Luke 11 : 13. " He giveth liberally, and up- 
braideth not." James 1:5. He does for his people " ex- 
ceeding abundantly above all that they ask or think." Eph. 
3 : 20. What encouragements are these to pray : to pray 
always, and not to faint ! 



]\o. 93. 

THE rORGIYIia AFRICAN. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



Journeying on business through the western part of the 
state of New York, in the summer of 1816, I stopped at an 
inn on Saturday evening, in a thinly settled part of the 
country, and put up for the Sabbath. Upon inquiry, I was 
informed that there was no place of public worship within a 
number of miles. The thought of spending the Lord's day 
in such a situation spread a gloom over my mind. But how 
often is God better to us than our fears ! Being weary with 
my journey, and having committed myself to the Keeper of 
Israel, I retired to rest, under an affecting sense of the good- 
ness of God. The morning dawned upon me in a composed 
frame of spirit; and every thing seemed to conspire to pro- 
duce in me wonder, adoration, and love. As I cast my 
eyes over the rich scenery of nature's works, I could not 
but exclaim, raising my thoughts to the Maker of them all. 
These " thus wondrous fair. Thyself how wondrous then !" 
The day did not pass without some lively tokens of the 
divine presence. The pages of the written word were open 
before me, and I was enabled to see the beauty of its doc- 
trines, and to taste the sweetness of its promises. 

Towards the close of the day, being disturbed by the 
noisy and profane conversation of some persons who had 
called at the inn, I " went out into the field to meditate at 
eventide." I directed my steps towards the wood, in a path 
which led through beautiful fields richly laden with the 
bounties of Providence. I had but just penetrated the bor- 
der of the forest, when the sound of a voice fell upon my 
ear. I paused ; the tone seemed to be that of supplication. 
Approaching the place whence it proceeded, I perceived, 
beside a large oak, a negro woman, apparently advanced in 
life, upon her knees, with her hands clasped together, and 
VOL. III. 28* 



2 THE FORGIVING AFRICAN. 

her eyes steadfastly fixed upon heaven. I listened, and was 
struck with astonishment, to hear one of the sable daughters 
of Ethiopia, in the most importunate manner, raising her 
prayer to God. Never before did I witness such simplicity, 
such fervor, such engagedness. Like a true daughter of 
Jacob, she seemed to have power with the Angel of God. 
That part of her prayer which I distinctly heard, was con- 
fined to herself and her master. 

" O Lord, bless my master. When he calls upon thee 
to damn his soul, do not hear him, do not hear him, but hear 
me — save him — make him know he is wicked, and he will 
pray to thee. I am afraid, O Lord, I have wished him bad 
wishes in my heart — keep me from wishing him bad — 
though he whips me and beats me sore, tell me of my sins, 
and make me pray more to thee — make me more glad for 
what thou hast done for me, a poor negro." 

As she arose from her kneeling posture, her eye glanced 
upon me. Ingenuous confusion overspread her countenance 
on being thus discovered. She was preparing hastily to re- 
treat, when I called to her in a mild tone, bade her not to be 
alarmed, and told her I was pleased to find her so well em- 
ployed. Encouraged by the mildness of my address, she 
came towards me. I inquired into her situation and circum- 
stances, and she seemed very happy of the opportunity of 
making them known. I asked her why she came to this 
place to pray. She answered that her master was a very 
wicked man, and would not, if he knew it, allow her to 
pray at all. The reason of her coming there at this time to 
pray, was, that her master had been beating her that day, 
and she was afraid she had not felt right towards him ; and 
that she had done wrong, also, by not submitting with more 
resignation to her unhappy lot. I asked her how she came 
to think it was her duty to pray. She said she had once 
heard a woman pray in a barn — that the woman prayed for 
the whole world — said they were all sinners, and going the 
road to hell — and that after she heard this woman's prayer, 



THE FORGIVING AFRICAN. 3 

she thought it was her duty to pray too. But for a long 
time she felt that she was so bad that she could not pray. 
After a while she found that she could pray, and that she 
loved to pray. It seemed to do her good, she said, after her 
master had been beating her, to go away into the fields or 
woods and pray to the Lord. 

I inquired of her whether there were no religious people 
in the place. She mentioned as the only one, the woman 
before spoken of, whom she had heard pray a number of 
times ; but she had never conversed with her. I then told 
her that there were many people in the world who had 
similar sentiments to hers respecting God and prayer. 
Her eyes sparkled on hearing this intelligence ; she list- 
ened with eagerness while I entered into some particulars 
respecting the new birth and the way of salvation through 
a crucified Redeemer. The truths of the Gospel were to 
her as cold water to a thirsty soul. Her countenance, now 
glowing with wonder, now suffused with tears, now lighted 
up with joy, is still present to my imagination. She ap- 
peared very anxious to be instructed herself; but this was 
not all : she entreated me to go and converse and pray 
with her master ; and to pray for him when alone. When 
I was about leaving her, never expecting to see her again 
in this world, I exhorted her to continue in the exercise of 
a submissive and forgiving spirit towards her master, and 
to commit herself into the hands of Him who judgeth right- 
eously; encouraging her with the prospect of a speedy 
release from all her sufferings, and that, in due season, if 
she persevered in well-doing, she would, through grace, 
reap a rich reward in the kingdom of glory. 

Never was I so fully convinced that the religion of 
Christ consists very much in the spirit of love and forgive- 
ness. The native pride of the human heart is quick-sighted 
in discerning ill-treatment, violent and unrelenting in its 
resentments. Too many, alas, even of those who bear the 
Christian name, and profess an assured hope of pardon from 



4 FORGIVING AFRICAN. 

their final Judge, know not how to forget or forgive an 
offence of a fellow- worm. Such a professor may appear to 
be planted in the vineyard of the Lord ; but his fruits are 
the grapes of Sodom and the clusters of Gomorrah. 

This poor woman, often cruelly treated by the hands of 
an unkind and unfeeling master, showed nothing like anger 
or revenge. While smarting under the wounds inflicted by 
his cruelty, she would retire beyond the sight and hearing 
of mortals, to pray for his welfare. When speaking of the 
conduct of her master, she did not dwell upon his faults 
with seeming pleasure and delight. The ingenuousness of 
her love and compassion manifested itself in a very differ- 
ent manner. Her love to God showed itself in secret, 
persevering, and importunate prayer for her master ; in 
earnestly requesting me to go and converse and pray with 
him ; and in entreating me, with a countenance visibly 
marked with sincerity and love, to pray for him when I was 
alone. Nothing did she appear to desire more than her 
master's eternal welfare. Such a spirit as this must be 
religion ; it is the very spirit of Christ ; and if so, nothing 
short of such a temper can be religion. It is an easy thing 
to talk and pray — words are light and airy things ; but to 
love our enemy, to do all in our power to promote his pres- 
ent and future well-being — this requires grace indeed. 

Reader, have you from the heart forgiven all who have 
injured you ? If not, can you hope God will forgive you ? 
Think of your offences against him, in thought, in word, 
and conduct. Think of the love of Christ in dying for his 
enemies, that all who believe in him may be saved. Go to 
him, confessing your sins and trusting in his mercy. Hence- 
forward let love to God and love to man reign in your heart, 
that, when weighed in the balance of eternal truth, you may 
not be found wanting the meek and holy temper of this poor 
slave. 



PUBLISHED Br THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 93. 

THE 



GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED 




Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came trembling, and 
fell down before Paul and Silas ; and brought them out, and said. Sirs, 
WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED ? And they said. Believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved* Acts 16 : 29-31. 

That great numbers of people, even in this Christianized 
country, are ignorant of the way of salvation, is too evident 
to be denied. It is manifestly no part of their concern, any 
more than if they were in no danger of being lost, or such a 
thing as salvation had never been heard of. Nor is this true 
only of weak and illiterate people ; men who in all other 
concerns are wise, in these things have no knowledge or 
sense to direct them. The evil, therefore, cannot be ascribed 
to simple ignorance, which, as far as it goes, tends to excuse ; 
but to being willingly ignorant, saying unto God, " Depart 
from us — we desire not the knowledge of thy ways." 



2 THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. 

God, however, has a witness in every man's conscience. 
Every man, whatever he may pretend, feels himself to be 
a sinner, and to need forgiveness. Ignorant and idolatrous 
as the Philippian jailer had been all his life, yet, when 
death stared him in the face, he trembled and cried for 
mercy. And if it was thus with the heathen, much more 
is it likely to be thus with those who have been educated 
under the light of revelation. The most careless and 
thoughtless cannot stand the approach of death. The cour- 
age of the most hardened infidel commonly fails him at that 
solemn period. 

Reader, are you one of the many who scarcely ever 
think of these things ; and whose chief concern is, what 
you shall eat, what you shall drink, and wherewithal you 
shall be clothed ? Let the anxiety of a feeathen reprove 
you. 

If you were made only to eat and drink, arid enjoy life, 
for a few years, and then to sink into nothing, you might 
well throw aside every care, except that which respects 
your present gratification. But you are of an order of 
beings distinguished from all others in the creation. In 
your nature are united mortality and immortality ; the dust 
of the ground, and the breath of the Almighty. Life to 
you is but the introduction to existence, a short voyage 
which will land you on the shores of eternity. You are 
surrounded by a number of objects, and feel an interest in 
each. You build houses, plant orchards, rear animals, and 
form to yourself a home ; but you are not at home. Your 
feelings associate with these things, but they are not fit 
associates for you. You may have a portion in all that is 
doing in your family, and in your country, yea, and in some 
sort, all that is done under the sun ; but this is not sufficient 



THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 3 

for you. The time dravveth nigh, when there will be an 
end to all these things, and they will be as though they had 
not been; but you will still live. You will witness the 
wreck of nature itself, and survive it ; and stand before the 
Son of man at his appearing and kingdom. Can you think 
of these things, and be unconcerned ? 

Or, though you be an immortal and accountable crea- 
ture — as your conscience tells you you are, whenever you 
consult it, and sometimes when you would gladly shut 
your ears against it — yet, if you had not sinned against your 
Maker, there would be no cause for alarm. A sinless crea- 
ture has nothing to fear from a righteous 'God. The ap- 
proach of an assize, with all its solemn pomp, does not 
terrify the innocent ; neither would judgment or eternity 
inspire the least degree of dread, if you were guiltless. 
But you are a sinner, a corrupt branch of a corrupt stock. 
God placed, as I may say, a generous confidence in our 
species, and required nothing in return but love ; but we 
have returned him evil for good. You, for yourself, are 
conscious that you have done so, and that it is in your very 
nature to do evil. 

Or, though you be what is called a sinner, yet, if sin 
were your misfortune, rather than your fault, you might fly 
for refuge to the equity of your Maker. But this is not 
the case. Whatever may be said as to the manner in which 
you became a sinner, and however you may wish to excuse 
yourself on that ground, your own conscience bears witness, 
that what you are you choose to be, and occasionally re- 
proaches you for being so. You may speculate upon sin as 
a kind of hereditary disease, which is merely a misfortune, 
not a fault ; but if so, why do you feel guilt on account of 
it? Why do you not also acquit others of blame, where the 



4 THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 

evil is directed against you ? You do not think of excus- 
ing a fellow-creature, when he injures you, upon any such 
grounds as you allege in excuse of transgression against 
God. If he be rational, and his offence voluntary, you make 
no further inquiry ; but, without any hesitation, pronounce 
him criminal. 

Out of your own mouth, therefore, shall you be judged. 
The inability that you feel to do good, is entirely owing to 
your having no heart to it. It is of the same nature as that 
of an unprincipled servant, who cannot seek his master's 
interest, but is always defrauding him. You would not 
hold such a servant blameless. Nor will God hold you so. 
You are not destitute of those powers which render us ac- 
countable beings, but merely of a heart to make use of 
them for God. You take pleasure in knowledge, but desire 
not the knowledge of his ways ; in conversation, but the 
mention of serious religion strikes you dumb ; in activity, 
but in his service you are as one that is dead. You are 
fond of news ; but that which angels announced, and the 
Son of God came down to publish, gives you no pleasure. 
All these things prove, beyond a doubt, where the inability 
lies. 

Or, if sin should be allowed to be your fault, yet, if it 
were a small offence, an imperfection that might be over- 
looked, or so slight a matter that you could atone for it by 
repentance, or prayers, or tears, or any effort of your own, 
there might be less reason for alarm. But neither is this 
the case. If sin were so light a matter as it is commonly 
made, how is it that a train of the most awful curses should 
be denounced against the sinner? Is it possible, that a just 
and good God would curse his creatures in basket and in 
store, in their houses and in their fields, in their lying 



THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. 5 

down, and in their rising up, and in all that they set their 
hands to, for a mere trifle, or an imperfection that might be 
overlooked ? 

If sin were a light thing, how is it that the Father of 
mercies should have doomed all mankind to death, and to 
all the miseries that prepare its way, on account of it ? 
How is it that wicked men die under such fearful appre- 
hensions ? Above all, how is it that it should require the 
eternal Son of God to become incarnate, and to be made a 
sacrifice, to atone for it ? 

But if sin be thus offensive to God, then are you in a 
fearful situation. If you had the whole world to offer for 
your ransom, it would be of no account. Were that which 
you offered ever so pure, it could have no influence what- 
ever towards atoning for your past guilt, any more than the 
tears of a murderer can atone for blood : but this is not the 
case — -those very performances by which you hope to ap- 
pease the divine anger, are polluted with sin. 

You are, whether you know it or not, a lost sinner, and 
that in the strongest sense of the term. Men judge of sin 
only by its open acts, but God looketh directly at the heart. 
Their censures fall only on particular branches of immo- 
rality, which strike immediately at the well-being of society ; 
but God views the root of the mischief, and takes into con- 
sideration all its mischievous bearings. "Know thou, there- 
fore, and consider, that it is an evil thing and bitter that 
thou hast done ; that thou hast departed from the living God, 
and that my fear is not in thee, saith the Lord of hosts." 

Finally : Though your sin be exceedingly offensive to 

your Creator, and though you can make no atonement for 

it, yet, if you could resist his power, escape his hand, or 

endure his wrath, your unconcern might admit of some kind 

VOL. ni. 29 



6 THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 

of apology. Surely, I need not prove to you that you can- 
not resist his power — what is your strength, when tried ? 
You may, in the hour of health and festivity, and when 
in company with others like yourself, indulge your pride, 
and boast great things ; but if God touch you with his 
afflicting hand, your strength and your courage instantly 
forsake you. 

And will you go on to provoke Omnipotence ? Canst 
thou escape his hand ? Whither wilt thou flee ? If,, atten- 
tive to thy safety, the rocks could fall on thee, or the moun- 
tains cover thee, yet would they not be able to hide thee 
from the face of him that sitteth upon the throne, and from 
the wrath of the Lamb. God hath beset thee behind and 
before, and laid his hand upon thee. Whither wilt thou go 
from his Spirit ? Whither wilt thou flee from his presence ? 
If thou ascend to heaven, he is there. Or if thou make 
thy bed in hell, behold, he is there ! 

The only question that remains is, whether thou canst 
endure his displeasure. And this must surely be a forlorn 
hope ! Can thine heart endure, and thine hands be strong, 
in the day that he shall deal with thee 1 Think of the 
wrath to come. If it were founded in caprice or injustice, 
supported by conscious innocence, you might possibly bear 
it ; but, should you perish, you will be destitute of this 
resource. Conscience will eternally say Amen to the 
justice of your sufferings. If you had mere justice done 
you, unmixed with mercy, your sufferings would be more 
tolerable than they will be ; but if you perish, you must 
have your portion with Bethsaida and Chorazin. Goodness 
gives an edge to justice. The displeasure of a kind and 
merciful being — and such is the wrath of the Lamb — is 
insupportable. 



I 



THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 7 

If, after having heard these truths, and lived in a coun- 
try where they are fully declared, you do not feel interested 
by them, you have reason to fear that God has given you up 
to hardness of heart, and that the language of the prophet 
is fulfilled in you : " Go unto this people, and say, Hearing, 
ye shall hear, and not understand ; and seeing, ye shall see, 
and not perceive : for the heart of this people is waxed gross, 
and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes have they 
closed, lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with 
their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be 
converted, and I should heal them." Remember that, in 
Old-Testament times, when God blessed his people Israel 
with singular temporal blessings, he punished their trans- 
gressions mostly with temporal judgments; but now that 
we are favored with singular spiritual privileges, the neglect 
of them is commonly punished with spiritual judgments. 

But whether you will hear, or whether you will forbear, 
I will declare unto you the only way of salvation. That 
which was addressed to the Philippian jailer, is addressed 
to you. " God has so loved the world, as to give his only- 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not 
perish, but have everlasting life." He hath given him not 
only to teach us the good and the right way, but to be made 
a sacrifice for sin, and as such to be himself the way. He 
suffered from the hands of wicked men ; but this was not 
all ; it pleased the Lord to bruise him. He hath put him to 
grief, and made his soul an offering for sin. He commanded 
his sword to awake against him, that through his death he 
might turn his hand in mercy towards perishing sinners. 
He hath set him forth to be a propitiation to declare his 
righteousness, that he might be just, and the justifierof him 
that believeth in Jesus. 



8 THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 

This is the only sacrifice which is well-pleasing to God. 
All that went before, were of no account but as they pointed 
to it ; and all the prayers and praises of sinful creatures 
are no otherwise acceptable than as presented through it. 
It is not for you to go about to appease the divine displeas- 
ure, or to recommend yourself to the Saviour by any efforts 
of your own ; but despairing of help from every other quar- 
ter, to receive the atonement which Christ hath made. To 
this you are invited, and that in the most pressing terms. 
He that made Him, who knew no sin, to be sin for us, that 
we might be made the righteousness of God in him, hath 
on this ground committed to his servants the ministry of 
reconciliation; and they, as ambassadors for Christ, as 
though God did beseech you by them, pray you in Christ's 
stead, "Be ye reconciled to God." 

The blessings of pardon, peace, and eternal life, are 
compared to a feast, or marriage-supper, which the King of 
heaven and earth hath made for his Son ; and he hath com- 
manded his servants to go forth, as to the highways and 
hedges, and to invite without distinction; yea, to compel 
them to come in. Nor is this all : you are exhorted and 
commanded to believe in Christ, on pain of damnation. All 
your other sins expose you merely to the curse of the law ; 
but the sin of unbelief, if persisted in, will expose you, like 
the barren fig-tree, to the curse of the Saviour, from which 
there is no redemption. 

Say not in thine heart, " All these things I have believed 
from my youth up." You may indeed have been taught 
them, and have received them as a tradition from your 
fathers ; but such faith is dead, and consequently inopera- 
tive. It is the same as that of the Jews towards Moses, 
which our Saviour would not admit to be faith. " If ye 



THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. 9 

believed Moses, ye would believe me, for he wrote of me." 
It is no better than the faith of devils, and in some respects 
has less influence ; for they believe and tremble, whereas 
you believe and are at ease. 

But it may be you will say, " I have examined Chris- 
tianity for myself, and am fully persuaded it is true." Yet 
it has no effect upon you any more than if you disbelieved 
it, unless it be to restrain you within the limits of exterior 
decorum. Your faith, therefore, must still be dead, being 
alone. Believing in Christ is not the exercise of a mind at 
ease, casting up the evidences for and against, and then 
coldly assenting, as in a question of science, to that side 
which seems to have the greatest weight of proof. To one 
whose mind is subdued to the obedience of faith, there is 
indeed no want of evidence ; but it is not so much from ex- 
ternal proofs, as from its own intrinsic glory and suitable- 
ness to his case as a perishing sinner, that he feels himself 
impelled to receive it. 

The Gospel is too interesting, and has too much influ- 
ence on our past and future conduct, to be an object of un- 
feeling speculation. It is " a hope set before us," which 
none but those who are "ready to perish" will ever em- 
brace. To believe it, is to renounce our own wisdom, our 
own righteousness, and our own will, and to fall into the arms 
of mere grace, through the atoning blood of the cross. If 
the good news of salvation be not in this manner believed, 
it signifies but little what speculative notions we may enter- 
tain concerning it ; for where there is no renunciation of 
self, there is no dependence upon Christ for justification; 
and where there is no such dependence, there is no revealed 
interest in that important blessing ; but the curses and 
threatenings of God stand in all their force against us. 



VOL. III. 



29* 



10 THE GREAT UUESTION ANSWERED. 

PART II. 

Had the question proposed by the jailer been addressed 
to the first genius upon earth, unacquainted with the Gospel, 
it could not have been answered. Had it been put to all 
the great philosophers of antiquity, one by one, and to all 
the learned doctors among the Jews, none of them could 
have resolved it to any good purpose. Nor, amidst all the 
boasted light of modern times, can a single unbeliever be 
found who could know what to do with it. Yet it is a ques- 
tion which arises in every man's mind, at one period or 
other of his life ; and a question which must be resolved, or 
we are lost for ever. 

Reader, this important question may have already oc- 
cupied your mind. An alarming sermon, a death in your 
family, a hint from a faithful friend, or, it may be, an im- 
pressive dream, has awakened your attention. You cannot 
take pleasure, as formerly, in worldly company and pursuits ; 
yet you have no pleasure in religion. You have left off 
many vices, and have complied with many religious duties, 
but can find no rest for your soul. The remembrance of 
the past is bitter ; the prospect of the future may be more 
so. The thought of God troubles you. You have even 
wished that you had never been born, or that you could now 
shrink back into non-existence, or that you were any thing 
rather than a man. But you are aware that all these wishes 
are vain. You do exist ; your nature is stamped with im- 
mortality ; you must go forward and die, and stand before 
this holy Lord God ! 

If these, or such like exercises, occupy your mind, the 
question of the Philippian jailer is yours ; and to you let me 
address a few directions, included or implied in the answer. 



THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. H 

If by this question you mean, What can you do to ap- 
pease the wrath of God, or recommend yourself as a fit 
object of his mercy ? What can you do as a good deed, 
or the beginning of a course of good deeds, in reward of 
which he may bestow upon you an interest in the Saviour ? 
I answer, Nothing. An interest in Christ, and eternal life, 
are indeed given as a reward ; but not of any thing we 
have done, or can do, even with divine assistance ; it is the 
reward of the obedience of Christ unto death. To us it is 
of mere grace, and as such must be received. Though 
faith is in itself a holy exercise of the mind, yet, as that by 
which we are justified, it is directly opposed to doing. " To 
him that worketh is the reward not reckoned of grace, but 
of debt ; but to him that worketh not, but believeth on him 
that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteous- 
ness." He that worketh, seeks to obtain life and the favor 
of God, in some way or other, as a reward ; but he that 
believeth, receives it as a free gift to the unworthy. And 
let me apprize you, that this is the state of mind you must 
be brought to, or you must perish for ever. So far as you 
think of doing any thing, call it what you may, with a hope 
of being pardoned and justified for its sake, so far you reject 
the only way of salvation, and have reason to expect your 
portion with unbelievers. 

Let me deal freely with you. Yours is a most serious 
situation. The Gospel-rest is before you ; and if you en- 
ter not in, it will be because of unbelief. You know the 
answer given to the jailer ; and this is the only answer that 
can with safety be given to you. Consider, and beware, as 
you regard your eternal salvation, that you take up your 
rest in nothing short of it. 

But, in the first place, let me declare unto you the Gos- 



12 THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWTIRED. 

pel of God, which you are directed to believe. If this meet 
your case ; if, rightly understood, it approve itself not only 
to your conscience, but your whole soul ; if it accord with 
your desires, as it undoubtedly does with your necessities, 
all is well, and well forever. I shall not trouble you with 
the opinions of men as to what the Gospel is, nor even with 
my own, but direct you to the account given of it by its 
Author. The New Testament informs us what it is, in 
such plain and pointed language, that he who runs may 
read : " God so loved the world, that he gave his only-be- 
gotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not per- 
ish, but have everlasting life." " Moreover, brethren, I 
declare unto you the Gospel which I preached unto you, 
which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand ; by 
which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I 
preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. For I 
delivered unto you, first of all, that which I also received, 
how that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures ; 
and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day 
according to the Scriptures." " This is a faithful saying," 
— a truth of such importance as to have become a kind of 
Christian proverb — " and worthy of all acceptation, that Je- 
sus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am 
chief." " We preach Christ criicijied.'' " I determined 
NOT TO KNOW ANY THING among you, save Jesus Christ and 
him crucified.''^ " This is the record, that God hath given 
to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son.'^ 

It is not meant, by these brief descriptions of the Gospel, 
that there is no other truth necessary to be believed, but that 
the doctrine of the cross, properly embraced, includes all 
others, or draws after it the belief of them. 

The import of this Gospel is, that God is in the right, 



THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. 13 

and we are in the wrong ; that we have transgressed against 
him without cause, and are justly exposed to everlasting 
punishment ; that mercy, originating purely in himself, re- 
quired, for the due honor of his government, to be exercised 
through the atonement of his beloved Son ; that with this 
sacrifice God is well pleased, and can, consistently with all 
his perfections, pardon and accept of any sinner, whatever 
he hath done, who belie veth in him. 

What say you to this ? The truth of it hath been con- 
firmed by the most unquestionable proofs. It first began to 
be spoken by the Lord himself, and it has been confirmed 
unto us by them that heard him ; God also bearing them 
witness with signs, and wonders, and divers miracles. The 
witness of the three in heaven, the Father, the Word, and 
the Holy Ghost, is borne to this ; namely, that " God hath 
given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son ;" and to 
this also is directed the witness of the three on earth, the 
Spirit, and the Water, and the Blood. Can you subscribe 
to this great truth, in all its bearings, and rest the salvation 
of your soul upon it ; or do you doubt whether you be so 
guilty, so helpless, and in so dangerous a state as this doc- 
trine supposes 1 Is it as one of the chief of sinners that 
you view yourself; or does it grate upon your feelings to 
receive forgiveness in that humble character ? In suing for 
mercy, are you content to stand on the same low ground as 
if you were a convict actually going to be executed ; or 
does your heart secretly pine after a salvation less humiliat- 
ing, in which some account might be made of that difier- 
ence of character by which you may have been distin- 
guished from the vilest of men, and in which you might be 
in some degree a cooperator with God ? Does that which 
pleases God, please you ; or does your mind revolt at it ? 



14 THE GREAT aUESTlON ANSWERED. 

It meets all your wants, but none of your prejudices, proud 
thoughts, or vicious propensities ; all these must come down, 
and be made a sacrifice to it. Can you subscribe to it on 
these terms ? 

I am well aware, that the great concern of persons in 
your situation, is to obtain peace of mind ; and any thing 
which promises to afford this, attracts your attention. If this 
Gospel be believed with all your heart, it will give you peace. 
This is the good and the old way ; walk in it, and you shall 
find rest for your soul : but it is not every thing which prom- 
ises peace, that will ultimately afford it. It is at our peril 
to ofTer you other consolation, and at yours to receive it. 

Consider, and beware, I say again, as you regard your 
eternal salvation, that you take up your rest in nothing 
short of Christ ! Particularly, 

1 . Beware of brooding over your guilt in a way of un- 
believing despondence ; and so of standing aloof from the 
hope of mercy. Say not, " My sins have been too great, too 
numerous, or too aggravated, to be forgiven." " The blood 
of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth from all sinJ^ Believest 
thou this 1 You are not straitened in him, but in your own 
bowels. God's thoughts are not as your thoughts, nor his 
ways as your ways : as the heavens are higher than the 
earth, so are his thoughts higher than your thoughts, and 
his ways than your ways. On the sinner that return- 
eth to our God he bestoweth abundant pardon. It is not, 
"If thou canst do any thing, help me;" but, "If thou canst 
believe — all things are possible to him that believeth." Of 
what dost thou doubt ? Of his all-sufficiency ? He is able 
to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him. Of 
his willingness ? Ought not his gracious invitations to sat- 
isfy thee on this head ? Can you imagine that he would 



THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 15 

proclaim, saying, " Whosoever thirsteth, let him come unto 
me and drink," and yet be reluctant to gratify the desires 
of those that come to him ? Objections, on the ground of 
the greatness of guilt and unworthiness, may seem to wear 
the face of modesty and humility ; but, after all, it becomes 
you to consider whether they be any other than the work- 
ings of a self-righteous spirit. If you could find in your 
heart to accept of mercy as one of the chief of sinners, all 
your objections would vanish in a moment. 

One sees, in your very tears of despondency, a pining 
after acceptance with God by something in yourself. Were 
they put into words, they would amount to something like 
this : " If I had but somewhat to recommend me to the 
Saviour, I could go to him with assurance ; or, if I had been 
less wicked, I might hope for acceptance." And what is 
this but making good the complaint of our Saviour ? " Ye 
will not come unto me, that ye may have life !" Such 
longings after something to recommend you to the Saviour, 
are no other than "going about to establish your own 
righteousness;" and while this is the case, there is great 
danger of your being given up to imagine that you find the 
worthiness in yourself which your soul desireth. 

2. Beware of dwelling, in a way of self-complacency, on 
those reformations which may have been produced by the power 
of conviction. This is another of those workings of unbelief, 
by which many have come short of believing, and so of en- 
tering into rest. There is no doubt but your convictions 
have driven you from the commission of grosser vices, and 
probably have frightened you into a compliance with vari- 
ous religious duties : but these are only the loppings off of 
the branches of sin ; the root remains unmortified. It is 
not the breaking off of your sins that will turn to any ac- 



16 THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 

count, unless they be broken off hy righteousness ; and this 
will not be the case but by believing in Christ. The power 
of corruption may have only retired into its strong holds, . 
from whence, if you embrace not the Gospel- way of salva- 
tion, it will soon come forth with increased energy, and sweep 
away all your fancied reformations. Nay, it is very possi- 
ble, that while the lusts of the fiesh have seemed to recede, 
those of the mind, particularly spiritual pride, may have al- 
ready increased in strength. If, indeed, you dwell on your 
reformations, and draw comfort from them, it is an undoubted 
proof that it is so ; and then, instead of being reformed, or 
nearer the kingdom of heaven than you were before, your 
character is more offensive to God than ever. Publicans 
and harlots are more likely to enter into it than you. 

Besides, if your reformations were ever so virtuous — 
which they are not, in his sight by whom actions are 
weighed — yet, while you are an unbeliever, they cannot be 
accepted. You yourself must first be accepted in the Be- 
loved, ere any thing that you offer can be received. " It 
does not consist with the honor of the majesty of the King 
of heaven and earth, to accept of any thing from a con- 
demned malefactor, condemned by the justice of his own 
holy law, till that condemnation be removed." 

3. Beware of deriving comfort from the distress of mind 
wh'ch you may have undergone, or from any feelings within 
you. Some religious people will tell you, that these work- 
ings of mind are a sign that God has mercy in reserve for 
you ; and that, if you go on in the way you are in, waiting 
as at the pool, all will be well in the end ; but such lan- 
guage requires great qualification. It is not your being 
distressed in mind that will prove any thing in your favor, 
but the issue of it. Saul was distressed, as well as David ; 



THE GREAT QUESTIOX ANSWERED. 17 

and Judas, as well as Peter. When the murderers of our 
Lord were pricked in their hearts, Peter did not comfort 
them by representing this their unhappiness as a hopeful 
sign of conversion ; but exhorted them to repent, and he 
baptized every one of them in the name of Jesus Christ, for 
the remission of sins. 

And thus it was with Paul and Silas, when the jailer 
was impressed with fear and dismay : they gave him no 
encouragement from thence, but preached Jesus Christ as 
the only source of hope. If one who had slain a man in 
Israel, had stopped short of the city of refuge, and endeav- 
ored to draw comfort from the alarm which he had felt, 
lest the avenger of blood should overtake him, would he 
have been safe ? There is no security to you or to any 
man, but in fleeing immediately to the Gospel-refuge, and 
laying hold of the hope set before you. If you take com- 
fort from your distress, you are in imminent danger of 
stopping short of Christ, and so of perishing for ever. 
Many, no doubt, have done so ; and that which they have 
accounted waiting at the pool for the moving of the waters, 
has proved no other than settling upon a false foundation. 
Indeed, it must needs be so ; for as there is no medium, in 
one that has heard the Gospel, between faith and unbelief, 
he that does not believe in Jesus for salvation, if he have 
any hope of it, must derive that hope from something in 
himself. 

4. Beware of considering faith itself the meritorious 
ground of acceptance with God. It is true, that believing is 
an act of yours, and an act of obedience to God. Far be 
it from me that I should convey an idea of any thing short 
of a cordial reception of the Gospel being accompanied with 
salvation : a reception that involves a renunciation of seif- 
voL. III. 30 



18 THE GREAT. QUESTION ANSWERED. 

righteousness, and a submission to the righteousness of God. 
But if you consider it as a species of sincere obedience, 
which God has consented to accept, instead of a perfect one ; 
and if you hope to be justified in reward of it, you are still 
"going about to establish your own righteousness" under 
an evangelical name. This is the commandment of God, 
that ye believe on the name of his Son. Faith is an act of 
obedience to God, yet it is not as such that it justifies us, 
but as receiving Christ, and bringing us into a living union 
with him, ybr ivhose sake alone we are accepted and saved. 
Finally : Beware of taking comfort from any impulse, or 
unfounded persuasion that your sins are forgiven, and that 
you are a favorite of God. Many are deceived in this way, 
and mistake such a persuasion for faith itself. When a 
sinner is driven from all his former holds, it is not unusual 
for him, instead of falling at the feet of Christ as utterly 
lost, to catch at any new conceit, however unscriptural and 
absurd, if it will but afford him relief. If, in such a state 
of mind, he receives an impression, perhaps in the words 
of Scripture, that God has forgiven and accepted him, or 
dreams that he is in heaven, or reads a book, or hears a 
sermon favorable to such a method of obtaining relief, he 
eagerly imbibes it, and becomes intoxicated with the deli- 
cious draught. The joy of hope, being so new and unex- 
pected a thing, and succeeding to great darkness and distress, 
produces a wonderful change in his mind. Now he thinks 
he has discovered the light of life, and feels as one that has 
lost his burden. Now he has found out the true religion; 
and all that he read or heard before, not affording him re- 
lief, is false doctrine, or legal preaching. Being treated also 
as one of the dear children of God by others of the same 
description, he is attached to his flatterers, and despises 



THE GREAT aUESTION ANSWERED. 19 

those as graceless who would rob him of his comforts, by 
warning him against " the lie which is in his right hand." 

I do not mean to say that all consolation which comes 
suddenly to the mind, or by the impression of a passage of 
Scripture, any more than by reading, or hearing, is delusive. 
It is not the manner in which we obtain relief, that is of any 
account, but lohat it is that comforts us. If it be the doc- 
trine of the cross, or any revealed truth pertaining to it, this 
is Gospel consolation ; but if it be a supposed revelation 
from heaven of something which is not taught in the Scrip- 
tures, that is a species of comfort on which no dependence 
can be placed. A believer may be so far misled, as to be 
carried away with it ; but, if a man have nothing better, he 
is still an unbeliever. 

If ever you obtain that rest for your soul which will bear 
the light, it must be, not from any thing within you, but by 
looking out of yourself to Christ, as revealed in the Gospel. 
You may afterwards know that you have passed from death 
unto life, by the love you bear to the brethren, and by many 
other Scriptural evidences ; and from the time of your em- 
bracing the Gospel-remedy, you may be conscious of it, and 
so enjoy the hope of the promised salvation ; but your first 
relief, if it be genuine, will be drawn directly from Christ, or 
from finding that in the doctrine of salvation through his death, 
which suits your wants and wishes as a perishing sinner. 

Having thus warned you against certain by-paths, I 
shall conclude with a few additional directions concerning 
the good and the right way. 

To believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, is to receive him 
as he is revealed in the Gospel. Christ is God's first gift, 
with, or for the sake of whom, he bestows all others ; and 



20 THE GREAT QUESTION ANSWERED. 

believing in him corresponds with it. If God first give 
Christ, and with him all things freely, we must first receive 
Christ, and with him all things freely. Hence it is said, 
" He that liaih the Son, hath life ; and he that hath not the 
Son of God, hath not life." We must receive him as that 
for which he was given, which was to be a sacrifice, or 
propitiation for sin, that God might be just in justifying 
poor ungodly sinners who believe in him. We must trust 
in him as the sole ground of hope, and plead for pardon 
only in his name. Receiving Christ as by a marriage- 
covenant, we become one with him, and so are interested 
in all that he hath done and suffered on earth, and in all 
that he is now doing at the right hand of God. 

But though believing in Christ has a special respect to 
him as the way of acceptance with God, yet, when you 
receive him as your atoning Priest, you will also receive 
him for your King. When you " come " to him, as guilty 
and heavy-laden, for rest, you will at the same time " take 
his yoke upon you," and " learn his meek and lowly spirit." 
Though we are justified by faith alone, yet it is not by a 
faith which is alone, but which contains the seeds of universal 
obedience. In one view, namely, as receiving the Saviour, 
and uniting us to him, it justijieth ; in another view, namely, 
as including the principles of a holy life, it sanctijieth. 

In this way, reader, you will find rest for your soul. In 
your journey to the heavenly world, you will have much 
to do, much to oppose, and, it may be, much to suffer ; but 
by a life of faith on him in whom you first believed, you 
will find strength equal to your day. Duties will be pleas- 
ant, temptations will be overcome, and the sufferings of this 
present life will work a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory. 



No. 94. 

THE 

NON-CONFORMIST'S RELEASE. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



The late Thomas Bradbury dined one day at the house 
of Mrs. Tooly, an eminent Christian lady in London, who 
was distinguished for love to Christ and his people. Mr. 
Timothy Rogers, who wrote the book on religious melancholy, 
dined there the same day ; and after dinner entertained Mrs. 
Tooly and Mr. Bradbury with some stories concerning his 
father, who was one of the ejected ministers in the year 1662, 
and the sulTerings he endured for his non-conformity. Mr. 
Rogers particularly related one anecdote that he had often 
heard his father tell with much pleasure, concerning a de- 
liverance which he had from being sent to prison. 

He lived near the house of Sir Richard Cradock, a jus- 
tice of the peace, and a violent hater and persecutor of the 
dissenters ; who sought to distress them by all the means 
which the severe laws then in being put in his power, par- 
ticularly by enforcing the law against conventicles. He 
bore a particular hatred to Mr. Rogers, and wished to have 
him in his power ; and hearing that he was to preach some 
miles distant, he hired two men to go as spies, to take the 
names of all the hearers they knew, and witness against Mr. 
Rogers and them. The thing succeeded to his wish : they 
brought the names of several persons ; and Sir Richard 
warned such of them as he owed particular spite, and Mr. 
Rogers, to appear before him. Accordingly they all came 
with trembling hearts, expecting the worst; for they knew 
the violence of the man. 

While they were in his hall, expecting to be called upon, 
there came in a little girl, a grandchild of Sir Richard's, 
about six or seven years of age. She looked at Mr. Rogers, 
and was much taken with his venerable appearance ; and 
he being fond of children, took her on his knee, and made a 
great deal of her ; and she was fond of him. At last Sir 

VOL. III. 30* 



2 THE NON-CONFORMIST'S RELEASE. 

Richard sent one of his servants to inform the company, that 
one of the witnesses had fallen sick, and could not be present 
that day, and therefore warned them anew to come on another 
day, which he named to them. 

Accordingly they came ; and the crime, as the justice 
called it, was proved. He ordered their mittimus to be 
written, to send them all to jail. Mr. Rogers, before he 
came, expecting to see the little girl again, had brought 
some sweetmeats to give her ; and he was not disappointed ; 
for she came running to him, and was fonder of him than 
she was the day before. She was, it seems, a particular 
favorite of her grandfather's, and had got such an ascendency 
over him that he could deny her nothing. She was withal 
a child of a violent spirit, and could bear no contradiction, 
as she was indulged in every thing. Once, when she was 
contradicted in something, she ran a penknife into her arm, 
that had near cost her her life. After which Sir Richard 
would not suffer her to be contradicted in any thing. 

While she was sitting on Mr. Rogers' knee, and eating 
the sweetmeats which he gave her, she looked wishfully on 
him, and said, "What are you here for, sir?" He an- 
swered, " I believe your grandfather is going to send me, 
and my friends whom you see here, to jail." "To jail!" 
said she ; " why, what have you done ?" " Why, I did noth- 
ing but preach at such a place ; and they did nothing but 
hear me." " But," said she, " my grandpapa shant send 
you to jail." "Ay, but, my dear," said he, "I believe he 
is now making out our mittimus to send us all there." 

She ran immediately to the chamber where her grand- 
father was, and knocked with her head and heels till she got 
in, and said, " What are you going to do with my good old 
gentleman here in the hall ?" " That's nothing to you," said 
her grandfather ; " get you about your business." " But I 
wont," said she j " he tells me that you are going to send 
him and his friends to jail ; and if you send them, I'll drown 
myself in the pond as soon as they are gone ; I will, indeed," 
When he saw the girl was resolute and peremptory, it shook 
him, and overcame the wicked design lie had formed to per- 



THE NON-CONFORMIST'S RELEASE. 3 

secute the servants of the Lord. He stepped into the hall, 
with the mittimus in his hand, and said, " I had here made 
out your mittimus to send you all to jail, as you deserve : 
but at my grandchild's request, I fall from the prosecution, 
and set you all at liberty." 

They all bowed, and thanked his worship. But Mr. 
Rogers, approaching the child, laid his hand upon her head, 
and lifting his eyes to heaven, said, " God bless you, my dear 
child; may the blessing of that God whose cause you did 
flead, tliough as yet you know him not, be upon you in life, 
at death, and throughout eternity.'^ And then he and his 
friends went away. 

Mrs. Tooly listened with attention to the story ; and 
looking on Mr. Rogers, said, " And are you that Mr. Rogers' 
son?" "Yes, madam," answered he, "I am." "Well," 
said she, " I am the girl your dear father blessed in the man- 
ner you have now related. It made an impression on me 
I could never forget." Upon this double discovery, Mr. 
Rogers and Mrs. Tooly found they had a superadded tie of 
love and affection. In answer to inquiries, she proceeded to 
relate, that after her grandfather's death, she was left sole 
heiress of his estate; and being in the bloom of youth, with 
none to control her, she ran after all the fashionable diver- 
sions of the time without restraint. But at the end of them 
all, she found a dissatisfaction that struck a damp to her 
heart, which she did not know how to get rid of, but by 
running the same fruitless round over and over again. 

She contracted some slight illness, upon which she 
thought she would go to Bath, hearing that that was a place 
for pleasure, as well as health. When she came there, she 
was led in providence to consult an apothecary, who was a 
worthy, religious man. He inquired what she ailed. " Why, 
Doctor," said she, " I don't ail much as to my body ; but I 
have an uneasy mind, that I can't get rid of." " Truly, 
Miss," said he, " I was so too, till I met with a book that cured 
me of it." " Books !" said she ; "I get all the books I can 
lay my hand on, all plays, novels, and romances I can hear 
of; but, after I have read them, my uneasiness is the same." 



4 THE non-co:n'formist's relea.se. 

" That may be, Miss," said he, " I don't wonder at it. But 
this book I speak of, I can say of it what I can say of no 
other I ever read. I am never tired of reading it ; but can 
begin to read it again, as if I never had read it before. And 
I always see something new in it.'"' "Pray, Doctor," said 
she, " what book is that ?" " Nay, Miss," answered he, " that 
is a secret I don't tell to every one." " But could not I get 
a sight of that book ?" said she. " Yes, Miss," said he, " if 
you wish, I can help you to it." '•' Pray get it me then, 
Doctor, and I'll give you any thing you please." " Yes," 
said he, " if you will promise one thing, I'll bring it you ; 
and that is, that you will read it over carefully ; and if you 
should not see much in it at first, that you will give it a sec- 
ond reading." 

She promised faithfully she would. And after further 
raising her curiosity he gave it her. It was a New Testa- 
ment. When she looked on it, she said with a flirt, " Poh, 
I could get that any time." " Why, Miss, so you might," 
replied the Doctor ; " but remember, I have your solemn 
promise that you will read it carefully." 

Accordingly, she began to read it ; and it soon attracted 
her attention. She saw something in it which she had a deep 
concern in, and became more uneasy than before. She 
went back to London, for diversion ; but all was in vain. 

She lodged at the court end of the town, and one Sabbath 
went out with a friend to attend public worship, when, after 
passing several churches, they were providentially led into 
the Old Jewry. Mrs. Tooly's attention was much excited 
by the solemn manner of Mr. Shower, who was then the 
minister ; and when he rose to pray, she was deeply affect- 
ed. Having finished prayer, he took for his text. Psalm 
116:7, ^^ Return unto thy rest, O my soul ; for the Lord 
hath dealt hountifully with thee.^' In the hearing of this 
sermon, God manifested himself to her in mercy ; and she 
obtained, what she in vain sought for elsewhere — rest to her 
soul, in Him who is the life and happiness of souls. 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\o. 95. 

I0¥ OR lEYER. 



BY REV. RICHARD BAXTER. 



WHATSOEVER THY HAND FINDETH TO DO, DO IT WITH THY 
MIGHT."— ECCL. 9 : 10. 



Who knoweth not that time cannot be recalled ? That 
which once was, will be no more. Yesterday will never 
come again. To-day is passing, and will not return. 
You may work while it is day ; but when you have lost 
that day, it will not return for you to work in. While 
your candle burneth, you may make use 'of its light; but 
when it is done, it is too late to use it. No force of 
medicine, no orator's elegant persuasions, no worldling's 
wealth, no prince's power, can call back one day or hour 
of time. If they could, what endeavors would there be 
used, when extremity hath taught men to value what they 
now despise ! What bargaining would there be at last, if 
time could be purchased for any thing that man can give ! 
Then misers would bring out their wealth, and say, " All 
this will I give for one day's time of repentance more." 
And lords and knights would lay down their honors, and 
say, " Take all, and let us be beggars, if we may have but 
one year of the time that we misspent." Then kings would 
lay down their crowns and say, " Let us be equal with the 
lowest subjects, so we may but have the time again that we 
wasted in the cares and pleasures of the world." Kingdoms 
would then seem a contemptible price for the recovery 
of time. 

The time that is now idled and talked away ; the time 



2 NOW OR NEVER. 

that is now feasted and complimented away ; that is un- 
necessarily sported and slept away ; that is wickedly and 
presumptuously sinned away ; how precious will it one 
day seem to all ! 

The most proflme mariner falls a praying when he fears 
his time is at an end. If importunity would then prevail, 
how earnestly would they pray for the recovery of time, 
that formerly derided praying ! What a liturgy would 
death teach the trifling, time-despising gallant ; the idle, 
busy, dreaming, active, ambitious, covetous lovers of this 
world, if time could be entreated to return ! How passion- 
ately then would they pour out their requests : 

" O, that we might see the days of hope, and means, 
and mercy, which once we saw, and would not see ! O, 
that we had those days to spend in penitential tears and 
prayers, and hoty preparations for an endless life, which 
we spent at cards, in needless recreations, in idle talk, in 
humoring others, in the pleasing of our flesh, or in the 
inordinate cares and business of the world ! O, that our 
youthful vigor might return ! that our years might be 
renewed ! that the days we spent in vanity might be 
recalled ! that ministers might again be sent to us pub- 
licly and privately, with the message of grace which we 
once made light of! that the sun would once more shine 
upon us ! and that patience and mercy would once more 
reassume their work !"' 

If cries or tears, or price or pains, would bring back 
lost, abused time, how happy were the now distracted, 
dreaming, dead-hearted, and impenitent world ! If it would 
then serve their turn to say to the vigilant believers, " Give 
us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out;" or to cry, 
" Lord, Lord, open to us," when the door is shut, the foolish 
would be saved as well as the wise. But this is " the day 
of salvation !" this is "the accepted time." While it is 



NOW OR NEVER. Jj 

called to-day, hearken, and harden not your heart. Awake, 
thou that sleepest, and use the light that is afforded thee by 
Christ ; or else the everlasting utter darkness will shortly 
end thy time and hope. 

One life is appointed us on earth, to despatch the work 
on which our everlasting life depends, and we shall have 
but one. Lose that, and all is lost for ever : now you 
may hear, and read, and learn, and pray ; but when this 
life is ended, it shall be so no more. You shall rise from 
the dead, indeed, to judgment, and to the life that you 
are now preparing for ; but never to such a life as this on 
earth : your life is as the fighting of a battle that must be 
won or lost at once. There is no coming hither again to 
mend what is done amiss. Oversights must be presently 
corrected by repentance, or else they are everlastingly past 
remedy. 

Now, if you be not truly converted, you may be ; if you 
find that you are carnal and miserable, you may be healed ; 
if you are an enemy, you may be reconciled to God ; but 
when once the thread of life is cut, your opportunities are 
at an end. Now, you may inquire of your friends and 
teachers what you must do to be saved ; and you may 
receive particular instructions and exhortations, and God 
may bless them to the illuminating, renewing, and saving 
of your soul. But when life is past, it will be so no more. 

O, then, if departed souls might but return, and once 
more be tried with the means of life, what joyful tidings 
would it be ! How welcome would be the messenger that 
brought it ! Had hell but such an offer as this, and would 
any cries procure it from their righteous Judge, O what a 
change would be among them ! How importunately would 
they cry to God, " O, send us once again to the earth ! 
Once more let us see the face of mercy, and hear the offers 
of Christ and of salvation ! Once more let ministers offer 



4 NOW OR NEVER. 

US their help, and teach, in season and out of season, in 
public and in private, and we will refuse their help and 
exhortations no more ; we will hate them, and drive them 
away from us no more. Once more let us have thy word 
and ordinances, and try whether we will not believe them, 
and use them better than we did. Once more let us have 
the help and company of thy saints, and we will scorn them, 
and abuse them, and persecute them no more. O, for the 
great invaluable mercy of such a life as once we had ! O, 
try us once more with such a life, and see whether we will 
not contemn the world and close with Christ, and live as 
strictly, and pray as earnestly, as those that we hated and 
abused for so doing ! O, that we might once more be ad- 
mitted into the holy assemblies, and have the Lord's day to 
spend in the business of our salvation ! We would plead 
no more against the power and purity of the ordinances ; 
we would no more call that day a burden, nor hate them 
that spend it in works of holiness, nor plead for the liberty 
of the flesh therein." 

He that would have Lazarus sent from the dead to warn 
his unbelieving brethren on earth, no doubt would have 
strongly purposed himself on a reformation, if he might 
once more have been tried ; and how earnestly would he 
have begged for such a trial, that begged so hard for a drop 
of water ! But, alas, such mouths must be stopped for ever 
with, " Remember that thou, in thy lifetime, receivedst thy 
good things." 

" It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this 
the judgment." There is no return to earth again : the 
places of your abode, employment, and delight, shall know 
you no more. You must see the faces of your friends, and 
converse in flesh with men no more. This world, those 
houses, that wealth and honor, as to any fruition, must be to 
you as if you had never known them. 



NOW OR NEVER. 5 

You must assemble here but a little while. Yet a little 
longer, and we must preach, and you hear the Gospel invi- 
tation no more for ever. That therefore which you will do, 
must presently be done, or it will be too late. If ever you 
will repent and believe, it must be now. If ever you will 
be converted and sanctified, it must be now. If ever you 
will be pardoned and reconciled to God, it must be now. 
If ever you will reign, it is now that you must fight and 
conquer. " O, that you were wise, that you understood 
this, that you would consider your latter end !" And that 
you would let those words sink down into your heart, which 
came from the heart of the Redeemer, as was witnessed by 
his tears: "If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this 
thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but now 
they are hid from thine eyes."' 

There is no doing this work hereafter. Heaven and 
hell are for other work. The harvest doth presuppose the 
seed-time, and the labor of the husbandman. It is now that 
you must sow, and hereafter that you must reap. It is now 
that you must work, and then that you must receive your 
wages. 

Is this believed and considered by the thoughtless 
world ? Alas ! do you live here as men that must live 
here no more ? Do you work as men that must work no 
more, and pray as men that must pray no more, when once 
the time of work is ended ? What thinkest thou ? Will 
God command the sun to stand still while thou rebellest or 
forgettest thy work and him ? Dost thou expect he should 
pervert the course of nature, and continue the spring and 
seed-time, till thou hast a mind to sow ? Will he renew thy 
age, and make thee young again, and call back the hours 
that thou hast prodigally wasted on thy lusts and idleness ? 
Canst thou look for this at the hand of God, when nature 
and Scripture assure thee of the contrary ? If not, why 

VOL. III. 31 



Q NOW OR NEVER. 

hast thou not yet done with thy beloved sins ? Why hast 
thou not yet begun to live ? Why sittest thou still, while 
thy soul is unrenewed, and all thy preparation for death and 
judgment is yet to be made ? Wilt thou hear and be con- 
verted in the grave and hell ? or wilt thou be saved without 
holiness ? that is, in despite of God, who hath resolved it 
shall not be. O, ye sons of sleep, of death, of darkness, 
awake, and live, and hear the Lord, before the grave and 
hell have shut their mouths upon you ! Hear now, lest 
hearing be too late ! Hear now, if you will ever hear. 
Hear now, if you have ears to hear. 

Look about you, and see ivhat you have to do, and do it 
with your anight. 

1. Trifle not, but do it presently, without unnecessary 
delay. 

2. Do it resolutely : remain not doubtful, unresolved, in 
suspense, as if it were yet a question with thee whether 
thou shouldst do it or not. 

3. Do it with thy most awakened affections, and the 
serious intention of the powers of thy soul. Sleepiness and 
insensibility are most unsuitable to such works. 

4. Do it with all necessary forecast and contrivance ; 
not with a distracting, hindering care ; but with such a care 
as may show that you despise not your Master, and are not 
regardless of his work ; and with such a care as is suited 
to the difficulties and nature of the thing, and is necessary 
to the due accomplishment of it. 

5. Do it not slothfully, but vigorously, and with dili- 
gence. " Hide not thy hand in thy bosom" with the sloth- 
ful, and say not, " There is a lion in the way." The neg- 
ligent, and the vicious, the waster and the slothful, differ 
but as one brother from another. As the self-murder of 
the wilful ungodly, so also "the desire of the slothful killeth 



NOW OR NEVER. ^ 

him, because his hands refuse to labor." " The soul of the 
sluggard desireth and hath nothing; but the soul of the 
diligent shall be made fat." Be not slothful in business, 
but be " fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." 

6. Do it with constancy, and not with destructive pauses 
and intermissions, or with weariness and turning back. 
" The righteous shall hold on his way, and he that is of 
clean hands shall be stronger and stronger." " Be stead- 
fast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the 
Lord, for as much as you know that your labor is not in 
vain in the Lord." "Be not weary in well-doing; for in 
due season we shall reap if we faint not." 

Apply these quickening precepts to all the duties of 
the Christian course. Be religious in good earnest, if 
you would be found such when you look for the reward. 
" Work out your salvation with fear and trembling." 
" Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many shall seek 
to enter, and shall not be able." Many run, but few re- 
ceive the prize : so run that you may obtain. " If the 
righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and 
sinner appear?" Let the doting world deride your dili- 
gence, and set themselves to hinder and afflict you : it will 
be but a little while before experience change their minds, 
and make them talk differently. Follow Christ fully : be 
diligent and lose no time. The Judge is coming. Let not 
words, nor any thing that man can do, prevail with you to 
sit down, or stop you in a journey of such importance. 

Please God, though flesh, and friends, and all the world 
should be displeased. Obey God, though all the world for- 
bid you. No power can save you from his justice ; and 
none can deprive you of his reward. One thing is neces- 
sary : do that with speed, and care, and diligence, or you 
are lost for ever. They that are now against your much 
and earnest praying, will themselves shortly cry as loud in 



g NOW OR NEVER. 

vain. When it is too late, how fervently will they beg for 
mercy, that now deride you for valuing and seeking it in 
time ! But " then they shall call upon God, but he will not 
answer ; they shall seek him early, but shall not find him : 
for that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear 
of the Lord : they would none of his counsel, but despised 
all his reproof."' 

Up, therefore, and work with all thy might. Let un- 
believers trifle, that know not that the righteous God stands 
oxer them, and know not that they are now to work for eter- 
nity, and know not that heaven or hell is at the end. Let 
them delay, and laugh, and play, and dream away their 
time, that are drunk with prosperity, and mad with fleshly 
lusts and pleasures, and have lost their reason in the cares, 
and delusions, and vain-glory of the world. But shall it 
be so with thee, whose eyes are opened, who seest the God, 
the heaven, the hell, which they do but hear of as unlikely 
things ? Wilt thou lie awake, as they that are asleep ? 
Wilt thou do in the daylight as they do in the dark ? Shall 
freemen live as Satan's slaves ? Shall the living lie as still 
and useless as the dead ? Work then while it is day, " for 
the night cometh, when none can work." 

If your mind is sluggish, and you are forgetting your 
God and your latter end, and religion seems a lifeless thing, 
and you do your duty as if it were in vain, or against your 
will — stir up -i^our soul with the urgency of such questions as 
these : 

Question 1. Can I do no more than this for God, who 
gave me all — who deserveth all — who seeth me in my 
duties and my sins ? When he puts me purposely on the 
trial what I can do for his sake and service, can I do no 
more ? Can I love him no more, and obey, and watch, and 
work no more ? 



NOW OR NEVER. g 

Question 2. Can I do no more than this for Christ — 
for him that did so much for me — that obeyed so perfectly ; 
walked so meekly ; despising all the baits, and honors, and 
riches of the world — that loved me to the death ; and offer- 
eth me freely all his benefits, and would bring me to eternal 
glory ? Are these careless, cold, and dull endeavors, my 
best return for all his mercy ? 

Question 3. Can I do no more, when my salvation is 
the prize — when heaven or hell depends upon it — when I 
know this beforehand, and may see, in the glass of the Holy 
Scriptures, what is prepared for the diligent and the negli- 
gent, and what work there is, and will be for ever, in heav- 
en andv hell on these accounts ? Could I not do more, it 
my house were on fire, or my estate, or life, or friend were 
in danger, than I do for my salvation ? 

Question 4. Can I do no more for the souls of men, 
when they are undone for ever, if they be not speedily de- 
livered ? Is this my love and compassion to my neighbor, 
my servant, friend, or child ? 

Question 5. Can I do no more for the church of God — 
for the public good — for the peace and welfare of the na- 
tion, and our posterity — in suppressing sin — in praying for 
deliverance — or in promoting works of public benefit ? 

Question 6. Can I do no more, that have loitered so 
long, and go no faster, that have slept till the evening of 
my days, when diligence is the one certain evidence of my 
repentance 1 

Question 7. Can I do no more, that know not now but 
I am doing my last — that see how fast my time makes 
haste, and how I must be quickly gone — that know it must 
be now or never ? 

Question 8. Can I do no better, when I know before- 
hand what a vexatious and heart-disquieting thing it will 
then be, to look back on time as irrecoverably lost, and on 

VOL. III. 31* 



jQ NOW OR NEVER. 

a life of trial as spent in vanity, while tlie work that we 
lived for, lay undone? Shall I now, by trifling, prepare 
such tormenting thoughts foi' my awakened conscience ? 

Question 9. Can I do no more, when I am sure I can- 
not do too much, and am sure there is nothing else to be 
preterred ? 

Question 10. Can I do no more, that have so much 
help — that have mercies of all sorts encouraging me, and 
creatures attending me — that have health to enable me, or 
affliction to remind and excite me — that have such a Mas- 
ter, such a work, such a reward ? Who is less excusable 
for neglect than I ? 

Question 11. Could I do no more, if I were sure that 
my salvation lay on this one duty — that according to this 
prayer, it should go with me for ever — or if the soul of my 
child, my servant, or my neighbor, must speed for ever, as 
my endeavors speed with them now for their conversion ? 
For aught I know it may be thus. 

Alas ! it is nothing but intoxicating prosperity, and sens- 
ual delights, and worldly diversions, that make you think 
well of ungodly slothfulness, and make you think contemp- 
tuously of a heavenly life. 

Methinks I even see how you will passionately rage 
against yourself, and tear your heart with self-revenge — if 
grace prevent it not by a safe repentance — when you think, 
too late, how you lived on earth, and what golden times of 
grace you lost, and vilified all that would not lose them as 
foolishly as you. O, how will you wonder at yourself, that 
ever you could be so blind and senseless, as to be no more 
affected with the warnings of the Lord, and with the fore- 
thoughts of everlasting joy and misery ! To have but one 
small part of time to do all that ever must be done by you 
for eternity, and say all that ever you must say, for your 
own or others' souls, and to have spent this in worse than 



NOW OR NEVER. l\ 

nothing! To have but one uncertain life, in which you 
must run the race that wins or loses heaven for ever ; and 
that you should be tempted with a thing of nought to lose 
that one irrecoverable opportunity, and to sit still or run 
another way, when you should have been making haste 
with all your might ! O, the thoughts of this will give you 
unutterable anguish in the day of judgment. That you had 
a time in which you might have prayed, with promise of 
acceptance, and had no heart to take that time ! That 
Christ was offered to you as well as to them that entertained 
him; that you were called on, and warned, as well as they, 
but obstinately despised and neglected all ! That life and 
death were set before you, and everlasting joys were offered 
to your choice, and you might have freely had them if you 
w^ould, and were told that lioliness was the only way, and 
that it must be now or never ; and yet that you chose your 
own destruction ! These thoughts will be part of hell to 
the ungodly. 

Come away, then, from the snares of sinners, and the 
company of deceived, hardened men. Heaven is before 
you ! Death is at hand ! The eternal God hath sent to 
call you ! Mercy doth yet stretch forth its arms ! You 
have stayed too long, and abused patience too much al- 
ready : stay no longer ! O, now please God, and save 
yourself by resolving that "this shall be the day," and 
faithfully performing this your resolution. " Up and be 
doing:" believe, repent, obey, and do all this with all your 
might. Love him that you must love for ever, and love 
him with all your soul and might. Seek that which is 
truly worth seeking, and will pay for all your cost and 
pains, and seek it first with all your might, remembering 
still, it must be now or never. 

And now that I should conclude, I am loath to end, for 



1 2 ^OW OR NEVER. 

fear I have not yet prevailed with you. What are you 
now resolved to do, from this day forward ? It is work of 
endless consequence that we have been speaking of, which 
must be done, and quickly done, and thoroughly done. 
Are you not convinced that it is so ? that ploughing and 
sowing are not more necessary to your harvest, than is the 
work of holiness in this day of grace to your salvation ? 
You are blind, if you see not this ; you are dead, if you 
feel it not : what then will you do ? 

O hear the God of heaven, if you will not hear us, who 
calleth to you. Return and live ! O hear him that shed his 
blood for souls, and tendereth you now salvation by his 
blood ! O hear without any more delay, before all is gone, 
and you are gone, and he, that now deceiveth you, torment 
you ! Hold on a little longer in a carnal, earthly, unsanc- 
tified state, and it is too late to hope, or pray, or strive for 
your salvation. Yet a little longer, and mercy will have 
done with you for ever ; and Christ will never invite you 
more, nor ever offer to cleanse you by his blood, nor sanc- 
tify you by his Spirit. 

O what shall I do to show you how near you stand to 
eternity, and what is now doing in the world that you are 
going to, and how these things are thought on there ? What 
shall I do to make you know how time is valued, how sin 
and holiness are esteemed, in the world where you must 
live for ever ? What shall I do to make you know these 
things to-day ? If every word I write were accompanied 
with bitter tears, I should not think it too dear, if I could 
but help you to such a sight of the things we speak of, that 
you might truly understand them as they are : that you had 
but a true awakened apprehension of the shortness of your 
day, of the nearness of eternity, and of the endless conse- 
quence of your present work ; and how holy labor, and 
sinful loitering, will be regarded in the world to come for 



NOW OR NEVER. I3 

ever. But when we see you sin, and trifle, and no more 
regard your endless life ; and see also what haste your time 
is making, and yet cannot make you understand these 
■ things ; when we know that you will shortly be astonished 
at the review of your present sloth and folly ; and when we 
know that these mattei's are not thought of in another world, 
as they are among sleepy sinners here, and yet know not 
how to make you know it, whom it doth so exceedingly 
concern — this amazeth us, and almost breaks our heart. 

Sinner, whatever the devil and raging passion may say 
against a holy life, God and your own conscience shall be 
our witnesses, that we desired nothing unreasonable, or 
unnecessary, at your hands. 

The question that I am putting to you, is not whether 
you will be for this form of church-government, or for 
that ; but it is, whether you will hearken in time to God 
and conscience, and be as busy to provide for heaven, as 
ever you have been to provide for earth. It is godliness, 
serious and practical godliness, that thou art called to. 
It is nothing but what all Christians in the world are agreed 
in. That I may not leave thee in any darkness from 
which I can deliver thee, I will tell thee distinctly, though 
succinctly, to what it is that thou art thus importuned ; and 
tell me, then, whether it be that of which any Christian 
can doubt. 

1. That which I entreat of thee is, but to live as one 
that verily believeth there is a God; and that this God is 
the Creator, the Lord and Ruler of the world; and that it 
is incomparably more our business to understand and obey 
his laws, and as faithful subjects to be conformed to them, 
than to observe or be conformed to the laws of man ; and 
to live as men that do believe that this God is almighty, 
and that the greatest of men are less than crawling worms 
to him ; and that he is infinitely wise, and the wisdom of 



14 NOW OR JNEVER. 

man is foolishness to him ; and that he is infinitely good 
and amiable ; that his love is the only felicity of man, and 
that none are happy but those that do enjoy it, and none 
that do enjoy it can be miserable; and that riches, and 
honor, and fleshly delights, are brutish vanities, in compari- 
son of the eternal love of God. Is any of this a matter of 
controversy or doubt ? Not among Christians, I am sure : 
not among wise men. It is no doubt to those in heaven, 
nor to those in hell, nor to those that have not lost their 
understandings upon earth. Live, then, according to these 
truths. 

2. Live as men that verily believe mankind is fallen 
into sin and misery ; and that all men are corrupted, and 
under the condemnation of the law of God, till they are 
delivered, pardoned, reconciled to God, and made new crea- 
tures, by a renewing, restoring, sanctifying change. Live 
but as men that believe that this cure must be wrought, 
and this great restoring change must be made upon our- 
selves, if it be not done already. Live as men who have 
so great a work to look after ; and is this a matter of any 
doubt or controversy ? Sure it is not to a Christian ; and 
methinks it should not be to any man else that knoweth 
himself, any more than to a man in a dropsy, whether he 
be diseased, when he feels the thirst, and sees the swelling. 
Did you but know what cures and changes are necessarily 
to be made upon your diseased, miserable soul, if you care 
what becomes of it, you would soon see cause to look 
about you. 

3. Live but as men that verily believe the Son of God 
hath suffered for sin, and brought the tidings of pardon and 
salvation, which you may have, if you will give up your- 
self to him who is the Physician of souls, to be healed by 
him. Live as men that believe that the infinite love of 
God, revealed to lost mankind in the Redeemer, doth bind 



NOW OR NEVER 15 

US to love him with all our hearts, and serve him with all 
our restored faculties, and to work as those that have the 
greatest thankfulness to show, as well as the greatest mer- 
cies to receive, and misery to escape. Live as those that 
believe that if sinners, who, without Christ, could have had 
no hope, shall now love their sins, and refuse to leave 
them, and to repent and be converted, and unthankfully 
reject the mercies of salvation, so dearly bought and freely 
offered them, their damnation will be doubled, as their sin 
is doubled. 

Live but as men that have such redemption to admire, 
such mercy to entertain, and such a salvation to secure, 
and that are sure they can never escape, if they continue 
to "neglect so great salvation." And is there any contro- 
versy among Christians in any of this? There is not, 
certainly. 

4. Live but as men that believe the Holy Ghost is 
given by Jesus Christ to convert, to quicken, and to sanc- 
tify all that he will save; that "Except ye be born again" 
"of the Spirit, you shall not enter into the kingdom of 
heaven;" and that "if any man have not the Spirit of 
Christ, he is none of his;" and that without this, no mend- 
ing of your life, by any common principles, will serve 
for your salvation, or make you acceptable to God. Live 
as men that believe that this Spirit is given by the hear- 
ing of the word of God, and must be prayed for, and 
obeyed ; and not resisted, quenched, and grieved. And is 
there any controversy among Christians in any of this ? 

5. Live but as men that believe that sin is the greatest 
evil, the thing which the holy God abhorreth ; and then you 
will never make a mock of it, as Solomon saith the foolish 
do ; nor say, What harm is in it ? 

6. Live but as men that believe no sin is pardoned with- 
out repentance ; and that repentance is the loathing and 



16 ^'OW OR NEVER. 

forsaking of sin ; and that if it be true, it will not suffer you 
to live in any sin, nor to desire to keep the least infirmity, 
nor to be loath to know your unknown sins. 

7. Live as those that believe that. there is a life ever- 
lasting, where the sanctified shall live in endless joy, and 
the unsanctified in endless punishment and woe : live but as 
men that verily believe a heaven and a hell, and a day of 
judgment, in which all the actions of this life must be re- 
vised, and all men judged to their endless state. Believe 
these things heartily, and then think a holy diligence need- 
less, if you can. Then be of the mind of the deriders and 
enemies of godliness, if you can. If one sight of heaven or 
hell would serve without any more ado, instead of other 
arguments, to confute all the cavils of the distracted world, 
and to justify the most diligent saints in the judgment of 
those that now abhor them, why should not a sound belief 
of the same thing in its measure do the same ? 

8. Live but as those that believe this life is given us as 
the only time to make preparation for eternal life ; and that 
all that ever shall be done for your salvation, must be now, 
just now, before your time is ended : live as those that know 
and need not faith to tell them, that this time is short, and 
almost at an end already, and stayeth for no man, but, as a 
post, doth haste away. It will not stay while you are taken 
up at stage-plays, in compliments, in idle visits, or any im- 
pertinent, needless things : it will not tarry while you spend 
yet the other year, or month, or day, in your worldliness or 
ambition, or in your lusts and sensual delights, and put off 
your repentance to another time. 

O, for the Lord's sake, do but live as men that must be 
shortly buried in the grave, and their souls appear before the 
Lord ; and as men that have but this little time to do all for 
their everlasting life, that ever must be done. O live as 
men that are sure to die, and are not sure to live till to- 



NOW OR NEVER. 17 

morrow ; and let not the noise of pleasure or worldly busi- 
ness, or the chat or scorns of miserable fools, bear down your 
reason, and make you live as if you knew not what you 
know ; or as if there was any doubt about these things. 
Vv lio is the man, and what is his name, that dares contradict 
them, and can make it good ? O, do not sin against your 
knowledge : do not stand still and see your glass running, 
and time making such haste, and yet make no more haste 
yourselves than if you were not concerned in it. Do not, 
O, do not slumber, when time and judgment never slumber ; 
nor sit still, when you have so much to do, and know all 
that is now left undone must be undone for ever ! 

Alas, how many questions of exceeding weight have you 
yet to be resolved in ! whether you are truly sanctified ? 
whether your sins be pardoned ? whether you shall be saved 
when you die ? whether you are ready to leave this world 
and enter upon another ? I tell you, the answering of these, 
and many more such questions, is a matter of no small 
difficulty or concern. And all these must be done in this 
little and uncertain time. It must be noiu or never. 

9. Lastly, Will you but live as men that believe that 
the world and the jiesh are the deadly enemies of your salva- 
tion? and that "if any man love the world," so far "the 
love of the Father is not in him ?" and as men that believe 
that, " if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die ; but if by the 
Spirit ye do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live;" 
and that those who are in Christ Jesus, and are freed from 
condemnation, are such as " walk not after the flesh, but 
after the Spirit ?" Will you live as knowing that we must 
" make no provision for the flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof;" 
and must not " walk in gluttony and drunkenness, in cham- 
bering and wantonness, in strife and envying;" but must 
" have our hearts where our treasure is," and our conversa- 
tion in heaven ; and being risen with Christ, must seek the 
VOL. HI. 32 



13 NOVv' on NEVER. 

things that are above, and set our affections on them, and 
not on the things that are on earth ? 

Will you say that any of this is our singular opinion, or 
matter of controversy and doubt ? Are not all Christians 
agreed in it ? Do you not, yourself, profess that you be- 
lieve it ? Live, then, but as those that do believe it, and 
condemn not yourself in the things that you confess. 

O, that you would hear us ! Though we speak not to 
you as men would do that had seen heaven and hell, and 
were themselves in a perfectly awakened frame, yet hear 
us while we speak to you the words of truth, with some 
seriousness and compassionate desire for your salvation. 
O, look up to your God ! Look out unto eternity ; look 
inwardly upon your souls ; look wisely upon your short and 
hasty time ; and then bethink you how the little remnant of 
your time should be employed ; and what it is that most 
concerneth you to despatch and secure before you die. 
Now, you have sermons, and books, and warnings : it will 
not be so long. Now, you have the Lord's day to spend in 
holy exercises, for the edification and solace of your souls. 
O, what invaluable mercies are all these ! O, know your 
lime, and use these with industry, and improve this harvest 
for your souls ! For it will not be thus always : it must be 
7101V or never. You have yet time and leave to pray and 
cry to God in hope : yet if you have a heart and tongue, he 
hath a hearing ear ; the Spirit of grace is ready to assist 
you. It will not be thus always : the time is coming when 
the loudest cries will do no good. O, pray, pray, pray, poor, 
needy, miserable sinner ; for it must be now or never. 

Would you not be loath to be left to the despairing case 
of many poor distressed souls, that cry out, " O it is now too 
late ! I fear my day of grace is past ; God will not hear 
me now, if I should call upon him : he hath forsaken me, 
and given me over to myself. It is too late to repent, too 



NOW OR NEVER. 



19 



late to pray, too late to think of a new life ; all is too late." 
This case is sad ; but yet many of these are in a safer and 
better case than they imagine ; and it is not too late, while 
they cry out, " It is too late ;" but if you are left to cry out 
in hell, "It is too late," alas, how long and how doleful a 
cry and lamentation will it be ! 

consider, poor sinner, that God knoweth the time and 
season of thy mercies. He giveth the spring and harvest in 
their season ; and all his mercies in their season ; and wilt 
thou not know thy time and season for love, and duty, and 
thanks to him ? 

Consider that God, who hath commanded thee thy work, 
hath also appointed thee thy time. And this is his appointed 
time. To-day, therefore, hearken to his voice, and see that 
thou harden not thy heart. He that bids thee repent and 
believe in Christ, doth also bid thee do it now. Obey him 
in the time, if thou wilt be indeed obedient ; he best under- 
standeth the fittest time. One would think that, to men that 
have lost so much already, and loitered so long, and are so 
lamentably behindhand, and stand so near the bar of God 
and their everlasting stale, there should be no need to say 
any more to persuade them to be up and doing. 

1 shall add but this : " You are never like to have a 
better time." Take this, or the work will grow more diffi- 
cult, more doubtful, if, through the just judgment of God, it 
become not desperate. If all this will not serve, but still 
you will loiter till time be gone, what can your poor friends 
do but lament your misery ! The Lord knows, if we knew 
what words, what pains, what cost would tend to your 
awakening, and conversion, and salvation, we should be 
glad to submit to it ; and hope we should not think our 
labors, or liberties, or our lives too dear, to promote so blessed 
and so necessary a work. But if, when all is done that we 
can do, you will leave us nothing but our tears and moans 



20 -^^OVV OR NEVER. 

for self-destroyers, the sin is yours, and the suffering shall 
be yours. If I can do no more, I shall leave this upon 
record, that we took our time to tell you, that serious dili- 
gence is necessary to your salvation ; and that God is the 
" Rewarder of them that diligently seek him ;"' and that this 
was your day, your only day. It must be now or never. 



Sinner, art thou still secure ? 

Wilt thou still refuse to pray .^ 
Can thy heart or hand endure 

In tlie Lord's avenging day ? 

See, his mighty arm is bared. 
Awful terrors clothe his brow ! 

For his judgment stand prepared — 
Thou must either break or bow. 

At his presence nature shakes, 
Earth, affrighted, hastes to flee ; 

Solid mountains melt like wax ; 
What will then become of thee ? 

Who his advent may abide : 
You, who glory in your shame, 

Will you find a place to hide 

When tlie world is wrapp'd in flame ? 

Lord, prepare us by thy grace. 
Soon we must resign our breath ; 

And our souls be call'd to pass 
Through tlie iron gate of death. 

Let us now our day improve. 

Listen to the Gospel voice ; 
Seek the things that are above ; 

Scorn the world's pretended joys. 



Newton. 



I¥o. 90. 



THE 



SAILOR'S FRIEID. 



Sailor, will you permit a friend to converse with you 
seriously a few moments ? Your life is a life of danger. 
To-day, you may be sailing under a cloudless sky ; to-mor- 
row, the storm may rage around you, and put your life in 
jeopardy. But there is a danger to which you are exposed, 
that is still more awful — the danger of losing the soul. Yet 
a Saviour has been provided, who not only delivers from 
this danger, but raises superior to the fear of every other. 
The following pages are intended to draw your attention to 
this danger, and to the only way of escaping it. 

While the children of men are universally depraved, 
this depravity is not manifested by every individual in the 
same manner. One follows one vicious inclination, another, 
another. There are characteristic crimes attached to many 
professions ; and yours has not failed to be thus distinguished. 
The crime of swearing, for example, has become common 
among seafaring people, to a proverb. Many are guilty of 
habitual swearing ; and they attempt to apologize for their 
conduct by saying, " We mean no harm ;" but the Lord 
hath said, that he "will not hold him guiltless who taketh 
his name in vain." Others indulge in violent anger upon 
the least opposition, and often gratify their rage in the most 
degrading manner, and even glory in this, as a display of 
courage ; or should the thought come across their mind, that 
such conduct is condemned by the divine law, they endeav- 
or to quiet conscience with such reflections as the follow- 
ing : '• No man is perfect ;" " I do not keep anger ;" " I am 

VOL. IIL 32* 



2 THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 

no hypocrite ;" and, upon the whole, " I have a good heart." 
There are others who take exquisite pleasure in riotous 
mirth and brutal dissipation. " Who hath woe ? who hath 
sorrow ? who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who 
hath wounds without cause ?" Is it not frequently the dis- 
sipated sailor ? Is not this a just description of some of your 
revellings, banquetings, and* riotous meetings ? And mark 
the baneful effects which result from them even in this 
world. " Thou shalt be as he who lieth down in the midst 
of the sea, or as he that lieth on the top of a mast. They 
have stricken me, thou shalt say, and I was not sick ; 
they have beaten me, and I felt it not : when shall I awake ? 
I will seek it yet again." Prov. 23 : 29, 34, 35. 

Many, however, who would be shocked so far to trans- 
gress the bounds of external decency, are, nevertheless, 
" foolish and disobedient, serving divers lusts and pleasures, 
living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another." 
Your conduct may be upright and honorable among men ; 
but how does your heart stand affected towards God ? Is 
he the object of your supreme delight ? Or is your heart 
wholly set on earthly things ? Are you grateful to your 
fellow-men for the favors they bestow upon you ? And do 
you feel no gratitude to Him who bestows upon you life, and 
breath, and all things ? If you say you are grateful to 
God, let me ask if your gratitude be proved to be genuine 
by searching his word to know his will, and by obeying all 
his commandments ? He who searcheth and knoweth the 
heart, requires that you should love him with all your heart, 
and your neighbor as yourself. Whatever you may think 
of yourself, when tried by this righteous law you must be 
found guilty. For, in place of loving God, " the carnal 
mind," and this is the mind which all the children of men 
are possessed of by nature, " is enmity against God ; for it is 
not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." It 
is further declared, that " there is none righteous, no, not 
one ; all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God ;" 



THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 3 

and this is written, " that every mouth may be stopped, and 
all the world become guilty before God." 

Allow me now to warn you of your danger, if you have 
hitherto neglected the great salvation. We presume you 
will acknowledge, from the view which has been given of 
the divine law, that you are a sinner. Hear, then, the sol- 
emn denunciation of Jehovah; "Cursed is every one who 
continueth not in all things written in the book of the law to 
do them." There is only this life between you and that 
world where this curse shall be put into execution. And 
" what is our life ? it is a vapor which continueth for a little 
time, and then vanisheth away." A thousand unforeseen 
accidents may land us in an eternal world, before we are 
aware. And you not only stand exposed to the diseases and 
calamities common to man, but, from the perilous nature of 
your employment, you may be said to be "in deaths oft." 
The swelling sea may, in a moment, wash you into the 
bosom of the great deep. Perhaps you have been more 
than once in scenes of the greatest danger, when the stormy 
winds appeared to carry death on their wings, and every 
billow seemed fraught with destruction ; and, possibly, in 
spite of every effort, you were nearing a coast under the 
fearful apprehension of being dashed in pieces. You may 
have seen vessels, with which you were in company, hoist 
signals of distress, and been unable to afford relief to those 
who were ready to perish — yea, out of a wreck you may 
have escaped, while you saw some of your shipmates sink 
like lead in the mighty waters. In such calamitous scenes, 
have you not felt the pangs of a guilty conscience, and the 
fearful forebodings of a future judgment ? Have you not 
been sensible, that although religion may be despised in life, 
it is indispensably necessary at the approach of death ? In 
the hour of d.anger, have you not formed the resolution, that, 
if spared, you would never be the same again ? But the 
storm has no sooner subsided, than you, like Pharaoh, have 
hardened your heart, returned to your old courses of iniqui- 



4 ' THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 

ty, and become fully as unconcerned about an eternal world 
as before. And " do ye thus requite the Lord, O foolish 
people and unwise ?" " 

You are thus every moment in danger of being hurried 
into an eternal world, and into misery with which all the 
sufferings endured in this world are not for a moment to 
be compared. Those who perish in their sins, perish for 
ever. The Scriptures represent all mankind as in a lost 
condition ! and what renders their situation still more 
awful is, they are neither aware of their danger, nor at 
all concerned about it. Thus it was with the old world, 
" they planted and builded, they bought and sold, they mar- 
ried and were given in marriage, until the day that Noah 
entered the ark, and the flood came and swept them all 
away." And although "the heavens and the earth which 
are now, are reserved unto fire against the day of judgment 
and perdition of ungodly men," yet the same carelessness 
about an eternal world still continues. But however much 
men may put off the evil day, it is certain, that " upon the 
wicked God shall rain fire and brimstone, and a horrible 
tempest ; this shall be the portion of their cup." The " Lord 
Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, in flaming fire taking 
vengeance on them who know not God, and who obey not 
the Gospel ; who shall be punished with everlasting destruc- 
tion from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of 
his power." 2 Thes. 1 : 7-9. What are all the desola- 
tions which the most dreadful storms ever produced, when 
compared with this ? The dismal shrieks of the crew, when 
their vessel is going to pieces, can convey but a faint idea 
of the wreck of dissolving worlds ; when men shall be call- 
ing to the rocks and mountains to fall on them, and cover 
them from the wrath of God and of the Lamb. 

Do you ask, How shall I be safe at that day ? There 
is no way of safety for any sinner, except through the atone- 
ment of Jesus. "He is a hiding-place from the wind, and 
a covert from the tempest. He is a strength to the poor. 



THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 5 

and a strength to tlie needy in their distress, a refuge from 
the storm, and a shadow from the heat, when the blast of 
the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall." Isa. 25 : 4. 
" God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth in him might not perish, but 
have everlasting life." Jehovah's equal Son assumed our 
nature, and endured that wrath which sin deserves. " He 
did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth ; yet it 
pleased the Lord to bruise him, and to put him to grief." 
The Lord laid on him the iniquity of all his people. The 
Saviour died for sinners, that they might live ; and in proof 
of the Father's approbation of his atonement, he was raised 
from the dead, and " exalted to the Father's right hand, a 
Prince and a Saviour, to give repentance and the remission 
of sins." 

Sailor ! this is the only haven of safety for your immor- 
tal soul. His name is a strong tower, to which the righteous 
run and are safe, and there is no other refuge ; for there is 
no other name given under heaven among men, by which 
you can be saved, but the name of Jesus ; and by him, all 
who believe are justified from all things. Their sins and 
their iniquities God remembers no more. Permit me, then, 
to ask, What think you of Christ ? Ponder the question ; 
both your present and eternal happiness hinge upon right 
views of the Saviour. If he be your refuge and righteous- 
ness, he will be "altogether lovely" in your esteem; but if 
you still consider him " as a root out of dry ground," an 
object unworthy of either your faith or affection, you stand 
unsheltered from the wrath of God. We are warranted to 
affirm, that without faith in the Redeemer, and supreme love 
to him, you can neither live in safety, nor die in security ; 
for it is written, " If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, 
let him be anathema maranatha" — accursed at the comingr 
of Christ. But, praised be his name, the way of access to 
him yet is open. Jesus is still saying, " Come unto me, all 
ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 



6 THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 

Therefore, take with you words, and turn to the Lord, and 
say, Take away all miquity, and receive us graciously, and 
we will render unto thee the offerings of our lips." 

You have frequently felt the advantage of a well-shel- 
tered roadstead, or safe harbor, during a disastrous storm. 
And when danger was apprehended, the desire of self- 
preservation has induced you to steer, with all possible 
speed, for a place of safety. May we not, then, entreat you 
to act as wise a part for the salvation of your soul, as, in 
many instances, you have done for the preservation of your 
life ? Take an example of prudence from Noah, who, " by 
faith, when he was warned of God of things not seen as 
yet, prepared an ark to the saving of his house, by which 
he condemned the world, and became heir of the righteous- 
ness which is by faith." If you take shelter under Imman- 
uel's wings, you will experience that " there is now no con- 
demnation to them who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not 
after the flesh, but after the Spirit. Flee, therefore, for 
refuge, to lay hold on the hope set before you in the Gos- 
pel." A drowning man would gladly lay hold of a rope 
cast to him as the means of deliverance — he would neither 
hesitate about the strength of the cord, nor question the 
compassion or ability of him who threw it. He might be 
disappointed. But if you lay hold on the glorious Gospel 
of the blessed God, you will most certainly be delivered 
from the gulf of eternal misery, and enjoy everlasting life. 

Do not, then, delay attending to the things which belong 
to your everlasting peace. " The Lord is not willing that 
any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." 
" Who art thou, O man, who despisest the riches of the for- 
bearance of God, not knowing that the goodness of God 
leadeth thee to repentance ?" Perhaps you have grown old 
in the service of Satan ; if so, it is surely time to listen to the 
voice of earnest entreaty : " Seek ye the Lord while he may 
be found ; call ye upon him while he is near. Let the 
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his 



THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 7 

thoughts ; and let him return unto the Lord, and he will 
have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will abun- 
dantly pardon." " Behold, now is the accepted time ; be- 
hold, now is the day of salvation." "To-day, if ye will 
hear his voice, harden not your hearts." If the reader is 
young, let him attend to the gracious words of the Lord : " I 
love them who love me, and they who seek me early shall 
find me." There is a thousand fold more to be enjoyed in 
the unsearchable riches of Christ, than the most sanguine 
expectations can anticipate. To have the soul " filled with 
all the fulness of God," puts more gladness into the heart 
of the righteous, than the wicked enjoy, when their corn, and 
wine, and oil are increased. " O, taste and see that the 
Lord is good ; they are blessed who trust in him." 

In order to animate the hopes, draw forth the prayers, 
and stimulate the exertions of the church of God for the 
conversion of seamen, God hath declared to Zion, " Then 
thou shalt see and flow together, and thy heart shall fear 
and be enlarged, because the abundance of the sea shall be 
converted unto thee, and the forces of the Gentiles shall be 
brouojht unto thee." Isaiah 60 : 5. The achievement of 
such a noble conquest upon the watery world, where Satan 
has long swayed an almost universal sceptre, is calculated 
to make heaven and earth resound with joy. And the 
sailor's profane swearing shall give place to the praises of 
the Lord, from a pure heart. " Sing unto the Lord a new 
song, and his praise from the ends of the earth, ye that go 
down to the sea, and all that is therein ; the isles, and the 
inhabitants thereof." Isa. 42 : 10. 

It is worthy of remark, that in these eventful days in 
which we live, the Lord is blessing the word of his grace in 
no ordinary degree, for the conversion of seamen. They 
are now putting their trust in Him, " w^ho is the confidence 
of all the ends of the earth, and of those who are afar off 
upon the sea." Psalm 65 : 5. God is granting to sailors 
"repentance unto life." This is calculated to afford you 



8 THE SAILOR'S FRIEND. 

the most heart-melting encouragement to return to the Lord, 
and confide in his mercy. 

And consider, that the Gospel will prove either the means 
of salvation to you, or the means of increasing your punish- 
ment at last. The time is not far distant, when the hand 
of the writer shall moulder into dust, and the eye of the 
reader shall be closed in death : they may never meet but 
at the judgment-seat of Christ. Then the reception you 
give to these truths will be disclosed before an assembled 
world. If they be the means of leading to the oracles of 
God, and to Him, " to whom all the prophets gave witness," 
their design will be fully answered. But, if you live and 
die in the neglect of the great salvation, they will be an 
additional witness against you, and will add to your eternal 
anguish. We would, therefore, beseech you to be recon- 
ciled unto God. For he hath made Christ, who knew no 
sin, to be sin for the guilty, that they might be made the 
righteousness of God in him. If you believe the declara- 
tions of the Scriptures concerning the death of Christ as an 
atonement for sin, and receive him as your Redeemer, you 
will enjoy the favor of God, and the good hope of everlast- 
ing life ; and death will, in consequence, be stripped of all 
its terrors. In the midst of the stormy ocean, your mind 
will be at peace, trusting in Him who can say to the proud 
waves of the sea, " Peace, be still." You will be convinced 
that "not a hair of your head can perish without your 
Father;" and that, although he should see fit to allow you 
to perish in the sea, your spirit will immediately join those 
of "the just made perfect;" and at the great day, when 
" the sea shall give up the dead which are in it," your body, 
" fashioned' like the glorious body of the Son of God, will be 
caught up to meet the Lord in the air ; and so be for ever 
with the Lord." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 97. 



HISTORY or OLD SHUSCO 



^*3fe. 




Old Shusco, as lie was commonly called, was an Ojibwa 
Indian. It is not knoM^i where he was born, but it is be- 
lieved to have been near the island of Mackinaw, in the 
strait which connects lakes Michigan and Huron. He was 
left an orphan when about ten days old, and came under 
the care of six -different persons during his childhood and 
youth. "VThen he was about fifteen, his grandfather un- 
dertook to make him a juggler, which is thought by the 
Indians to be an office of great honor and importance. They 
suppose that a juggler, or " mystery man," as he is some- 
times called, can cure diseases, bring rain to water the earth, 
VOL. III. 33 



2 HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 

cause the wild deer to come within reach of the hunter's 
spear, and do many other wonderful things. 

To make Shusco a juggler, his grandfather blackened his 
face with coal, and made him fast ten days ; the only food 
he had during this time being one cup of broth. This long 
abstinence nearly caused his death. But Shusco thought he 
had not been thoroughly made a " mysterj" man," and there- 
fore fasted a second time, for five days, after which he was 
regarded as a wise man among his people. He now prac- 
tised many deceitful arts upon them, to support his influence 
over their minds ; and in addition, he became a notorious 
drunkard. 

Shusco's wife went to hear the missionaries, and became 
converted. As Jesus now was precious to her soul, she felt 
concerned that her husband should know and love him too. 
His account of the eflbrts Avhich his wife made to lead him to 
the knowledge of the Saviour, is in substance as follows. " I 
did not know that the practices of Indian jugglers were made 
up of great and sinful errors, till my wife, whose heart had 
been turned, told me that such was the case. I had no pleas- 
ure in hearing her speak of the Christian religion, and said I 
was satisfied with the religion of my forefathers. She still 
told me who God is, and what sin is, as it is written in his 
book. I had before believed that there was one Great 
Spirit ; but she explained to me the true character of this 
Great Spirit, made me understand the sinfulness of the 
heart, and the way in which it is turned from evil to good 
by believing in Christ Jesus. She told me that the Holy 
Spirit alone could make my heart better ; and that all who 
died without having felt this power, would be for ever mis- 
erable. I did not like these words, but I could not forget 
them. When I thought of them, my heart was not fixed 
and unshaken as it was before. I began to determine that 
I would not practise the juggler's arts any more, and that I 
would give heed to what was declared in the Scriptures." 

It was in the year 1828 that Shusco felt convinced that 
he was a sinner, and for some time he was overwhelmed 



HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 3 

with a view of his past sins. His wife observed that he 
was distressed, and asked him the cause. He rephed, he 
was sick at heart. "You must pray," she said, "to God, 
and he will forgive you." " How can he forgive so great a 
sinner as I am ? I have spent all my life in sinning against 
him." " But," she answered, " he will forgive you for the 
sake of Christ, who died for us, if you pray to him ; for he 
forgave me, and I know that he will forgive you also." 
Shusco tried to pray, but found no relief. Two weeks passed 
away, and his sins still rose, as it were, before his view, so 
that it seemed to him that God could not have mercy on him. 
There was one evil habit to which he had given w^ay, that 
he now earnestly wished to be delivered from — the sinful 
practice of drunkenness. He stn.^ggled and prayed against 
it, and against all sin. One night he arose from his bed in 
great agony of mind, and went to his usual place of prayer, 
and there he cried to God until, as he said, " he found his 
burden gone, the hard thing in his heart taken away, and 
he was not sick any more." In describing the morning that 
succeeded this conflict, he said, " My heart was fiUed with 
love to God and his children. I went out of doors. Oh, it 
was very pleasant : the sun shone bright ; the trees and 
every thing around looked as they had never looked before. 
When I sat down to eat my breakfast, Sarah said to me, 
'How do you feel now?' ' Very happy ; my heart is not 
sick now, and I think I love God.' ' What day,' said she, 
'is it to-day, Shusco?' I told her prayer-day, (the Lord's 
day.) 'We must not work to-day, but pray to God.' We 
both then prayed, and were very happy." Thus the first 
impulse of this converted son of the forest was, to remember 
the Sabbath-day to keep it holy. 

He now thought of the missionaries at the island of 
Mackinaw. He had formerly shumied them, but now felt a 
desire to see them. " I want to tell them I love God now, 
and am very happy." The news of his conversion soon 
spread. All who heard of it said, " What hath God 
wrought I" At first it could scarcely be believed, that he 



4 HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 

had become a disciple of Christ ; but when his deep humil- 
ity, and love to all, especially to Christians, were seen, there 
was no room for doubt. 

Shusco's lodge, or hut, now ceased to be a place for drunk- 
enness and revelry ; for such it had ever been when strong 
liquor could be obtained. It became the resort of the In- 
dians who loved to pray and praise. One circumstance will 
show how much he felt his dependence on the Holy Spirit, 
and how earnestly he sought his aid. He was told that 
some Indians were coming to the island where he lived ; 
and he had many fears, as some of them were his wife's rela- 
tions, lest he should fall into temptation. ^Alien they came, • 
he resorted, as usual, to prayer. One morning he was gone 
out a long time : his wife did not know what had become 
of him, and she began to fear that he had gone and joined 
her brethren in drinking. At length he returned, and told 
her he had been engaged in prayer, and that now he could 
visit her friends. He went, and found them lying round a 
pail of whiskey, in a state of drunkenness. They tried to 
induce him to drink; but they could not prevail. They 
said, " Why is it, Shusco, that you will not drink with us 
now, when you always did formerly, and loved it so much ?" 
He replied, that the Lord helped him — that formerly, when 
he tried to leave oft' drinking, he attempted it in his own 
strength, and failed ; but that now he had obtained strength 
from God, and had no desire for ardent spirits, and was re- 
solved never more to touch them. In the evening he ob- 
served to a missionary, he had never in his life been so hap- 
py as on that day. His being able to overcome a love for 
whiskey and other strong drink is the more remarkable, as 
the Indians will -sell all they have to obtain it. Shusco was 
never known to taste it from the time of his conversion. 

On Saturday it was the practice of Shusco to go round 
to all the huts of the Indians, to tell them that the following 
day would be the Lord's day, and that they must all go to the 
house of God. When away from the island of Mackinaw, 
he had no means of knowing the day of the week, as he 



HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 5 

could not read. But he prepared a stick to serve as an 
almanac. Upon this he cut a notch for each day as it 
passed. At one time he was upon another island at some 
distance from home, making sugar, and he forgot to cut a 
notch ; consequently, he missed a day. When the Lord's 
day came, he arose, ate his breakfast, and went out to work 
as usual. Soon a person who was passing, told him it was 
the sacred day. He immediately dropped his work, went 
into the hut, and told his wife what day it was. During 
the folloAving week he returned home. As he entered the 
mission house, he was observed to look pale. The first 
words he spoke were, " I am very sorry ; perhaps you will be 
very sorry for what I have done." " Why, what have you 
done, Shusco ?" " I have broken the Sabbath-day," he said ; 
and then he explained how it had happened. " I thought," 
he continued, " that I would come and tell you of it myself, 
and not wait till all the Christians heard of it." He then 
threw away the stick which he had hitherto used as an 
almanac, and prepared another. 

He showed much gratitude for any kindness done to him. 
Whenever a friend gave him any thing, he would first look 
up, and thank the Lord, and then would express his grati- 
tude to the giver. At one time he went in company with 
his wife to an island where they had previously planted po- 
tatoes, for the purpose of digging them. He found that the 
crop promised to yield abundantly. " Before digging a hill," 
said he, " we had a prayer-meeting, to thank the Lord for 
them." 

Shusco's attaclunent to the word and the house of God 
was remarkable ; and often did he visit the missionaries on 
week-days, to hear them read and explain the Scriptures. 
The missionaries being about to remove from the island, he 
said to them, " I see you all now, but by ^nd by I shall see 
you no more in this world, and I shall be very lonely, for we 
shall have none to teach us on the Sabbath ; but I shall soon 
see you all again in heaven ; this makes me thankful. I 
feel that I shall soon go where Jesus is." After most of 
VOL. III. 33* 



6 HISTORY OF OLD SHU SCO. 

the missionaries had left, a female member of the mission, 
before her departure, went to see Shusco. By her he sent a 
special message to another female member of the mission, 
who had anxiously sought his spiritual good, and said, 

" Do not forget any thing I tell you. Tell her that I am 
well, and am very happy in my mind ; and if I never see her 
again in this world, I hope to meet her in heaven. Still, I 
am but half happy ; for I am half sorry because there are so 
many drunken Indians around, serving the devil as I once 
did. How good God has been to me, to make me one of his 
children. Why did he choose me when I was so great a 
sinner, and like these poor drunlvcn Indians ? But I pity 
them, talk to them, and tell theni it is the work of the devil 
to do so ; yet they will not listen. Sometimes they try to 
get me to drink ; but God keeps me from it. At times I run 
away from them ; then again I sit still in my hut when they 
come. Tell her, that perhaps the next time I am sick, I 
shall go home ; and that she must pray for me, that I may 
see her in heaven. I will not forget what she has told me 
about the Bible ; for a great many times I have gone to the 
mission house hungry, and she has fed me Avith God's word. 
Sometimes, as we sit here, we feel sad, because we have no 
one to read to us ; still, we will remember what we have 
heard, and leave ourselves with God, for he knows what is 
best. When the Sabbath comes, 1 go to the house of God, 
and as I sit there, I am happy ; for I think God is there. 
As I look round the house, and see how nice every thing is, 
I think how much more beautiful God's house above will 
be w^hen I get there." 

A desire to do good to others marked the conduct of 
Shusco. He was happy himself, and he desired that others 
might partake of the rich blessings which he had received 
through Christ Jesus. A few weeks before his death the 
family of his grandson came to visit him ; all the family 
were in pagan darkness. Every morning he went to their 
hut, to talk and pray with them. Soon after their arrival 
he became so lame that he could not walk : but this did not 



HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 7 

keep him from seeking to do tliem good ; he crept to their 
hut upon his hands and knees. 

The female friend before referred to returned, and hear- 
ing that he was ill, went to see him. After making some 
inquiries, he asked her to give him her hand, as he was now 
blind. " Perhaps now," he said, "I am going home. I am 
very sick, but it will only be a little while .that I shall en- 
dure pain." " Do you feel happy?" she inquired ; "and are 
you willing to go now, if it be the Lord's will?" "Yes, 
very willing," was the reply. " But do you not desire to 
get M^ell again, if it be the Lord's will ?" "Yes, if it is the 
Lord's will. I leave all in his hands. I thank the Lord for 
sending his children here to see me when I am sick. He is 
always very kind to his children, and merciful." He re- 
quested the friend to sing his favorite hymn. " I am too 
sick to join with you," he said ; " but I want to hear it once 
more." She then sung the hymn beginning, 

" On Jordan's rugged banks I stand, 
And cast a wishful eye 
To Canaan's fair and happy land, 
Where my possessions lie." 

On the morning before his death, his wife, seeing that he 
was very ill, sat down and wept by his side. " Do not 
weep," he said, "because I am going to leave you, for God 
will take care of you ; but weep rather for your sins. God 
has promised to take care of his children. Look to him in 
prayer ; he has promised, you know, that what we ask in 
prayer he will give us. Remember what I say, for perhaps 
this is the last time I shall speak to you. Perhaps you also 
Mali soon come where I am going. To-morrow, or next day, 
perhaps I shall go ; but love God." His wife went out to 
fetch some wood ; and when she returned he was committing 
his soul to his Saviour, and commending her also to his 
fatherly care; shortly after which he ceased to breathe. He 
was calm and happy to the last hour of his life, which ended 
on the 30th of September, 1837. 



8 HISTORY OF OLD SHUSCO. 

From this short history of a converted heathen juggler, 
we see that true rehgion shows itself in the same way in 
the experience of men, of whatever tribe or nation. The 
Gospel is not only suited to those born in a professedly Chris- 
tian land, but to those also who have been brought up in 
the darkness of heathenism. When it is applied by the 
Holy Spirit, it ^iroduces the same confidence in Grod, the 
same love to Christ, the "like precious faith" in his blood 
and righteousness as the ground of a sinner's acceptance, the 
same delight in the Scriptures and in prayer, the same re- 
gard for the Sabbath and the people of God, the same ha- 
tred to sin and desire to " follow after holiness," the same 
good hope of heaven and zeal for the salvation of others. 
By these tests let us examine ourselves : are they to be seen 
in our lives and experience ? 

Let it also be observed, that not only those who have 
been born heathen like poor Shusco, but every man, must 
be converted, or he cannot be saved. " Ye must be born 
again." John 3:7. "Except ye be converted, and be- 
come as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom 
of heaven." Matt. 18:3. Men in every country, and in 
every age, inherit a fallen and depraved nature, and left to 
themselves, they go on adding sin to sin : so that every mouth 
is stopped, and all the world is guilty before God. Rom. 
3:19. May the Holy Spirit renew our hearts, that we may 
be "new creatures in Christ Jesus;" then we shall joy- 
fully receive that "faithful saying, and worthy of all ac- 
ceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save 
sinners," even the chief, 1 Tim. 1:15; then we shall find, 
to our unspeakable happiness, that "we have redemption 
through his blood, even the forgiveness of our sins." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 98. 



THE NE¥ BIRTH. 



Whoever reads the Scriptures with serious attention, 
win perceive that some kind of change must take place in 
every person, in order to his becoming a real Christian. 
This change is described by a variety of names, the most 
remarkable of which is Regeneration, or the New Birth. 
The necessity of this change is often insisted on in the 
Bible, and nowhere more strongly than in our Saviour's 
discourse with Nicodemus, recorded in the third chapter of 
St. John's Gospel, where he says to that ruler, Verily, verily, 
I say unto you, except a man he horn again, he cannot see the 
kingdom of God. 

As this change is absolutely necessary to salvation, it is 
of great importance to know what it is ; especially, as there 
is much reason to fear that many mistake its true nature, 
and take the shadow for the substance. Let it be observed, 
then, that, 

1. The new birth is a great change ; the term must sig- 
nify so much : it signifies that we must be very different 
from what we were before; we begin a new kind of life. 
Elsewhere, the same change is described by " passing from 
darkness to light," and "from death to life." All these 
expressions strongly denote a very great change. And this 
ought to be seriously considered ; for what a light matter 



2 THE NEW BIRTH. 

passes for religion in general ! a few lifeless forms, a little 
outward decency, or some faint desires, make the whole of 
it. But the Scripture expressions of " a new creation," and 
" a second birth," surely imply something more. They 
certainly denote a very great change. 

2. The new birth is a universal change. Many are the 
devices of Satan. If he cannot keep sinners in total blind- 
ness and security, he tries to pervert their views of religion 
by causing them to mistake appearances for realities ; or, 
by putting a part for the whole. Many are ruined for ever, 
by mistakes of this kind. Most men have, at one time or 
another, some serious thoughts about the soul, and religion, 
and eternity ; and therefore do some things, and abstain 
from others, to still their fears and quiet conscience. But 
this partial change in point of morals, is often owing to some 
natural change in age, temper, and situation. Some men 
only exchange one sin for another which they love better. 
And others are very diligent in religious duties, to atone for 
the indulgence of their lusts, and to cover them from their 
own observation ; and the more unwilling they are to part 
with a darling sin, the more ready are they to overdo in 
such duties as do not oppose the present current of unsanc- 
tified affections. 

3. The new birth is an inward change. It is far more 
than a strict and regular course of outward actions or out- 
ward duties. It does not consist in partial reformation only, 
by which a man becomes less openly wicked than he was 
before ; but there is an essential change of his whole char- 
acter. God looks at the heart. " My son," says Solomon, 
"give me thine heart.^' The great sum of the law is, 
•*Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart." 
The prayer of the penitent is, " Create in me a clean heart, 
O God ;" and the grand promise of the covenant is, " A 



THE NEW BIRTH. 3 

new heart will I give you." Now, the new birth consists in 
having this new heart. 

If you ask what a new heart is : It is a heart set on new 
objects. The affections of the mind are turned from the 
world to God, and from the supreme love of self to the love 
of our fellow-men, and from living to ourselves to living to 
the glory of God. 

This is very different from an outward change, which 
may arise from mere selfishness. A man may avoid excess 
in some sins, and practise some duties, for the sake of his 
health or his reputation among men, or from the slavish 
fear of hell. Without any real hatred to a sin, as sin, he 
may forsake it for fear of burning in hell for it ; and with- 
out any love to God, he may perform religious duties ; for 
though they are a heavy burden to him, he thinks it more 
tolerable than hell will be. 

4. The new birth is a change, wrought hy the operation 
of the Holy Spirit. We are by nature in a state of enmity 
against God, and this is what we cannot of ourselves remove, 
or overcome, because we love our sins. It is the sinfulness 
of man that interposes the obstacle to his regeneration ; and 
for this he is criminal and inexcusable. And this is an 
obstacle which nothing but the grace of God can surmount. 
Hence the apostle John, speaking of true believers, says, 
" They were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, 
nor of the will of man, but of God." John 1 : 13. This 
doctrine is indeed greatly disliked by many, because it 
gives so humbling a view of our own character and state, 
and so much opposes our own pride and self-sufficiency. 
It is, however, the truth of God; and if we give any credit 
to the Scriptures, we must yield to it. Real Christians 
are said to "be born of God ;" " born from above ;" born 
of the Spirit. They are also said to be " quickened, who 



4 THE NEW BIRTH. 

were dead in sin." All which expressions plainly show 
that regeneration is the work of God, and not the work of 
man. 

These remarks are intended to caution the reader against 
wrong notions of the nature of religion. Let us now go a 
step further, and point out with as much plainness as pos- 
sible, WHAT IS THE CHANGE which is wrought in all the 
people of God, without exception : what it is which makes 
the difference between one who is, and one who is not born 
again. 

The design of this change is to make man holy. Man 
was made at first in the image of God, in knowledge, right- 
eousness, and holiness ; and he then enjoyed the most happy 
fellowship and communion with him. His duty and delight 
were the same. But by the fall he became obnoxious to 
the divine wrath, and disobedient to the divine will in his 
prevailing inclinations. He became disinclined to com- 
munion with God, and preferred the creature before the 
Creator. The design of regeneration is to restore man to 
the image of God, and to the exercise of love to him, so that 
his prevailing disposition may be the same as it was before 
the fall. The change, therefore, consists in these two 
things : that our supreme and chief end be to serve and 
glorify God ; and that the soul rest in God, as its chief good. 

1. Our supreme and chief end must he to serve and 
glorify God ; and every other aim must be subordinate to 
this. 

All things were made for the glory of God, that is, for 
the display of divine perfection ; and every reasonable 
creature ought to seek this. But no natural man seeks it. 
The sin of man consists in withdrawing his allegiance 
from God, and refusing subjection to his will. The lan- 
guage of his heart and practice is, " Our lips are our own, 



THE NEW BIRTH. 5 

who is lord over us ?" But the renewed person sees and 
owns his dependence upon God, his Maker's right to rule, 
and the obligation of all creatures to submit to his will. 

In regeneration, God gives this disposition of mind ; and 
gives it such force that it will prevail. The natural man 
seeks his own happiness supremely. This determines his 
choice of employments, enjoyments, companions. His re- 
ligious actions are not chosen, but submitted to, for fear of 
worse. Jn short, he hath forgotten his subjection : God is 
dethroned ; and self is honored, loved, and served, in his 
room. Hence, our Lord so much insisted on self-denial. 
" If any man," said he, " will come after me, let him deny 
himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." To honor 
God in the heart, then, and to serve him in the life, is the 
first and highest desire of him that is born again. And 
hence we may learn the reason why profane and worldly 
men are generally self-righteous, while the truly pious abhor 
themselves, on account of sin. Natural men have no just 
sense of their obligation to glorify God in their thoughts, 
words, and actions ; and therefore, whatever they do in 
religion, they look upon as meritorious, and think that 
something is due to them on that account. On the other 
hand, those who are born of God, know it is their duty to 
love God with all their heart, and serve him with all their 
might. They see that could this be perfectly done, it is no 
more than their duty, and there could be no plea of merit. 
But when they consider their sins, and how far short of duty 
they come in every instance, they ask for mercy, and not 
for reward. 

2. In regeneration, the soul is brought to rest in God as 

its chief happiness, and habitually to prefer his favor to 

every other enjoyment. The believer sees that those, and 

those alone, are happy, whose God is the Lord, and that 
VOL. III. 34 



6 THE NEW BIRTH. 

those who are afar off from him must perish. All natural 
men place their supreme happiness in something that is 
not God. In this they all agree, though the ways in which 
they seek for worldly happiness are innumerable. There 
is but one way to peace, and if that is neglected, the insuffi- 
ciency of all worldly enjoyments makes them fly from one 
earthly comfort to another, till they feel by sad experience 
the vanity of them all. 

The change that takes place in regeneration, in no small 
degree, consists in a strong inward conviction of the vanity 
of worldly enjoyments of every kind, and a persuasion 
that the favor and enjoyment of God is infinitely supe- 
rior to them all. Whatever other differences there may 
be, this will be found in every child of God, from the high- 
est to the lowest, from the richest to the poorest, and 
from the oldest to the youngest. Every such one will be 
able to say, with the Psalmist, " There be many that say. 
Who will show us any good ? Lord, lift thou up the light 
of thy countenance upon me. Thou hast put gladness in 
my heart, more than in the time that their corn and wine 
increased." 

Thus it appears that in regeneration there is a renewal 
of the moral image of God upon the heart. The renewed 
man loves him supremely, serves him as his highest end, 
and delights in him as his chief good. This discovery, 
however, is but begun on earth. It is gradually improved 
in the progress of sanctification, and shall: be fully com- 
pleted at the resurrection of the just. The sum of the 
moral law is, to love the Lord our God with all our heart, 
and soul, and strength, and mind. This is the duty of 
every creature, and regeneration consists in communicat- 
ing this love to the soul, which gradually gains the ascen- 
dency, and habitually prevails over its opposite. 



THE NEW BIRTH. Y 

We may now consider by what steps and by what 
MEANS THIS CHANGE IS BROUGHT ABOUT. It is true, it may 
be wrought at any time, in any manner, and by any means 
that to infinite Wisdom shall seem proper. " The wind 
bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, 
but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth : 
so is every one that is born of the Spirit." John 3 : 8. We 
shall only speak of such steps in the change as are, in 
substance, common to all true converts. 



THERE MUST BE A DISCOVERY OF THE REAL NATURE OF GOD. 

Those who are in a natural state, are often described as 
lying in ignorance and darkness. They know not God. 
They have " the understanding darkened, being alienated 
from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, 
because of the blindness of their hearts." Eph. 4 : 18. In 
the change which the Holy Spirit accomplishes, this dark- 
ness, ignorance, and blindness, are dispelled. The under- 
standing is enlightened, the true character and nature of 
God are discovered, and his glorious perfections seen in 
all their lustre. It will be easily perceived how indispen- 
sable is this part of the momentous work ; for it is impos- 
sible that that should be a man's chief motive of action, or 
supreme object of desire, of which he has no degree of 
knowledge. God must be known in his real character, 
such as he is ; and no false image placed in his stead. He 
must be seen in his spiritual nature as almighty in his 
power, unsearchable in his wisdom, inviolable in his truth ; 
but, above all, he must be seen as infinite in his holiness 
and hatred of sin, impartial in his justice, and determined 
to punish the transgressor. 



Q THE NEW BIRTH. 

II. 

THERE MUST BE A DISCOVERY OF THE INFINITE GLORY OP 
GOD. 

He must not only be seen to be such a being as he 
really is, but there must be a sense of the infinite worth, 
beauty, and perfection of his character. It is one thing 
to know, and another to approve. Men may know things 
which they hate ; and it must be so, when natures are 
opposite, the one sinful, and the other holy. There are 
many who cannot endure the scriptural representation of 
God, as hol)^ and jealous. They oppose it by carnal reason- 
ings, and give it the, most odious names. The reason is 
plain. Such a view of God sets the opposition of their own 
hearts to him in the strongest light. The consequence is, 
God or themselves must be held in abhorrence. There 
must, therefore, be a discovery of the glory and beauty of 
the divine nature ; an entire approbation of every thing in 
God, as perfectly right and faultless. No man can love 
that which doth not appear to him lovely. And this is the 
very foundation on which this change is built. While 
men continue in the love of sin, it is impossible they should 
see the beauty of infinite lioliness ; they will hate holiness, 
and fly from a holy God, as our first parents did in the 
garden. 

III. 

THERE MUST BE A CONVICTION OF SIN AND DANGER. 

If an entire change be necessary, there must be a dis- 
satisfaction with our past character : whoever is pleased 
with it, will neither desire nor accept of a change. Those 
who are not humbled for sin, will treat with contempt a 
purchased pardon and a crucified Saviour. This our Lord 



THE NEW BIRTH. Q 

tells us in the plainest terms. " They that are whole need 
not a physician, but they that are sick/*' "I came not to 
call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." To these 
his invitation is particularly addressed : " Come unto me, 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest.'"' 

From these passages and many others, it is evident, be- 
yond contradiction, that there must be a deep humiliation 
of mind and sense of guilt and wretchedness, before a sin- 
ner can be brought unto God. The source of this humil- 
iation is a sense of the evil and desert of sin. This is 
found in true penitents, and it is this that distinguishes 
repentance unto life from every counterfeit. Many have 
trembled through fear of punishment from God, who lived 
and died strangers to this change : they had no just sense 
of the evil of sin in itself j no cordial approbation of the 
holiness of God's nature and law, or of the justice of that 
condemnation which stands written against every trans- 
gressor. 

Here is the cardinal point on which true repentance 
turns. Without this there may be a slavish terror, but no 
true humiliation. There is often as great, or a greater de- 
gree of terror, in convictions that prove fruitless, as in 
others which end in a saving change. The passion of fear 
in Cain or Ahab, was perhaps equal in degree to the fear 
of any true penitent recorded in Scripture. It is the prin- 
ciple that distinguishes their nature, and produces oppo- 
site effects. The one is alarmed through fear of the wrath 
of an angry God ; the other is truly sensible of sin in all 
its malignity, and feels the sanction of a righteous, but vio- 
lated law. The one feels himself a miserable creature ; the 
other confesses himself a guilty sinner. The one is terrified, 

and the other humbled. 

VOL. 111. 34* 



10 THE NEW BIRTH, 

IV. 

THERE MUST BE AN ACCEPTANCE OF SALVATION THROUGH 
THE CROSS OF CHRIST. 

This is the last and finishing step of the glorious 
work. When this is attained, the evidence of the change 
is completed, the new nature exhibits all its parts. The 
spiritual seed is implanted, and hath taken root ; and it 
will arrive, by degrees, in every vessel of mercy, to that 
measure of maturity which it pleaseth God each shall pos- 
sess before he be carried hence. 

Before conviction of sin, the Gospel of Christ almost 
always appears to be foolishness. Or, if education and 
example prompt the sinner to speak with reverence of a 
Saviour, there is no distinct perception of the meaning, nor 
any inward relish of the sweetness of Gospel truth. But 
those who have been wounded in spirit, begin to perceive 
its unspeakable value. The helpless state of the sinner 
makes him anxiously inquire, " What must I do to be 
saved ? I have no excuse to offer, nor any shelter to fly 
to : the works, the word, and the providence of God, seem 
all to be against me. O, how fearful a thing it is to fall 
into the hands of the living God ! I have awaked as out 
of a dream, and find myself fast hastening to the pit of 
destruction. What would I not do, what would I not give, 
for good ground to believe that my guilt were taken away, 
and my peace made with God !" 

With what eagerness before unknown, does the sinner 
now inquire after the way of life ! With what solicitude 
does he go forth by the footsteps of the flock ! The Sab- 
baths, and ordinances, and word of God, are now quite dif- 
ferent from what they were before. No more waste of that 
sacred time, in business or in play. No more serenity of 



THE NEW BIRTH. U 

heart, because he had been regularly and constantly al 
church, but an astonishing view of the sins of his holy 
things ; his careless, formal, heartless worship. No more 
indifferent, slothful, or critical hearing the word, that he 
may commend the ability, or deride the weakness of the 
preacher. Now, he hears that '' God was in Christ, recon- 
ciling the world to himself." The very news of salvation, 
the bare mention of pardon, is now a joyful sound. It 
rouses his attention, and he sets himself to weigh the im- 
portant intimation. He hears that " God so loved the 
world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life." "Is there then," says he, "hope of mercy with 
God, whom I have so long forgotten, and so greatly of- 
fended ? Hath he indeed loved a guilty world ? Hath he 
loved them in so amazing a manner as to send his only 
begotten Son to save them from destruction ? How great 
is the giver, how wonderful the gift, and how undeserving 
the objects of his love !" 

This is a brief sketch of the steps by which this great 
change is effected in the heart. 

It may be proper, before we close, to mention some of 
the principal evidences and fruits of regeneration. 

The heart being renewed, the life will, of course, be 
reformed ; and holiness, in all manner of conversation, will 
be its natural and genuine effect. He who is born again, 
discovers his new nature and life by new apprehensions 
of God — of himself — of the world — of Jesus Christ — and 
of the ordinances of his appointment. 

The regenerate person has new views of God. He 
really and inwardly believes the being, presence, power, 
and providence of God. Formerly, God was seldom in his 



12 THE NEW BIRTH. 

thoughts ; now, he can scarcely look upon any thing with- 
out considering its relation to him. What a lustre and glory 
does his opened eye behold in all the divine perfections! 
Above all, what an astonishing view he has of the divine 
goodness and love, which he sees in all his mercies, of the 
least of which he is not worthy ! 

He has quite new apprehensions of himself. Before, he 
thought himself his own master ; but now he sees that he 
belongs to God. He remembers his Creator, confesses his 
obligations, and mourns for his transgressions. A converted 
sinner stands astonished at his former conduct. He wonders 
at the boldness of a poor guilty rebel, perhaps cursing and 
blaspheming, perhaps rioting in sensuality and lust. He 
wonders that the power of God did not arrest him in his 
course, and by some signal stroke make him a dreadful 
monument of his righteous indignation. He trembles to 
think of his former state ; and it excites a lively acknowledg- 
ment of the riches of divine grace. 

This is connected with, and increased by his views of 
the world, and o^ worldly men. The charm is now broken ; 
the false colors are taken off from the world and all its 
enjoyments. How ardently did he once love them ! How 
eagerly did he pursue them, and how did he envy the 
possessors of them ! But now, he can never separate the 
idea of riches from temptation ; and often considers the 
dreadful change which awaits those who are clothed in 
purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day ; 
but who will be, in a little time, tormented in hell-fire. 
Formerly, he valued persons by their station, genius, and 
wealth ; but now, a Christian in a cottage appears more 
amiable than a blasphemer in a palace. 

Further: the regenerate person has new apprehensions 
of eternity. Formerly, the vanities of time engaged his 



THE NEW BIRTH. ^3 

thoughts, and eternity was seldom in view ; but now, it is 
frequently and strongly upon his mind, so as to correct the 
false representations of sense, and oppose the unjust claims 
of earthly gratifications. Formerly, unseen things were 
treated as fabulous ; now, there is such a discovery of them 
as weighs down all created things, and makes them feel light 
as a feather in a balance. 

The regenerate person has also new views of Jesus 
Christ, the great and only Saviour of sinners. Before, he 
was "without form or comeliness," all the truths relating 
to his person and offices were treated with indifference; 
but now, the name of a Saviour is precious. The strongest 
language is too weak to express his gratitude and breathe 
out his love. " He is the chief among ten thousand ; yea, 
he is altogether lovely." 

Again, the regenerate person has new views of the 
ordinances of Christ's appointment. They were formerly 
his burden ; now, they are his delight. Before, the Sabbath 
wore a sable garb, and an ofiensive gloom ; now, he calls it 
a delight, the "holy of the Lord, and honorable." Now, he 
thirsts after the water of life, esteems, loves, and desires the 
word of God. He now readily joins the holy Psalmist in 
the fervent expressions of his affection to the truth and 
ordinances of God. " O how love I thy law ; it is my 
meditation all the day. My soul thirsteth for thee. To 
see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the 
sanctuary." 

In short, a change takes place in his whole character 
and conduct. " The love of God is shed abroad in his 
heart by the Holy Ghost," and is the commanding prin- 
ciple of all his future actions. The love of God is the 
source, the sum, and the perfection of holiness. All other 
duties naturally flow from it; nay, all other duties are 



X4 THE NEW BIRTH. 

nothing but the expressions of it. The believer is under 
the constant influence of gratitude to God. It is not merely 
thankfulness to a bountiful benefactor for mercies which 
have not been deserved, but a deep sense of obligation to 
a Saviour, who '• loved him, and washed him in his own 
blood;" so that his language is, "Lord, what wilt thou 
have me to do ? O, that I knew how I might repay some 
small part of my infinite obligations ! O, that I knew by 
what means I might magnify and do thee honor. Write 
thy laws in my heart, and enable me in every possible way 
to show that I love thee, because thou hast first loved me." 
This plainly includes in it, and will certainly produce, 
the most sincere and fervent love to his fellow-creatures. 
If they are had men, the same love to God, the same con- 
cern for his glory, which fills the Christian with grief and 
indignation at their daring offences, inspires the most ardent 
desire for their recovery and salvation. And as to good 
men, they are united by the tenderest and strongest ties, 
and love one another with a pure heart fervently. 

Thus we have taken a brief view of this important sub- 
ject — a subject in which every reader is deeply interested. 
Let me now earnestly entreat every one who peruses these 
pages, to bring the matter to a trial with regard to himself. 
As all men are either regenerate or unregenerate, let him 
ask, To which of these classes do I belong ? We are 
dropping into the grave from day to day, and our state is 
then fixed beyond the possibility of a change. What as- 
tonishing folly to continue in uncertainty whether we shall 
go to heaven or hell, whether we shall be the companions 
of angels, or associates with blaspheming devils to all eter- 
nity ! Nothing, therefore, can be more salutary, than that 
you make an impartial search into your present character 



THE NEW BIRTH. 15 

and state. If you have ground to conclude that you are 
at peace with God, what an unspeakable source of joy and 
consolation ! If otherwise, there is no time to lose in hast- 
ening from the brink of the pit. Be persuaded, then, to enter 
immediately on the duty of self-examination. Let every one, 
without exception, take up or renew this grand inquiry : "Am 
I in Christ ? That is, Am I a new creature, or not ? Am I 
a child of God ? or do I still continue an heir of hell V 

Let me repeat in your ears this solemn truth, and may 
God Almighty, by his Spirit, carry it to your hearts : " Ex- 
cept a man be born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom 
of God." And remember this is a great, a universal, an 
inward, a divine change. It is far more than mere outward 
reformation. It is far more than baptism, or any outward 
ordinance. Every child of Adam is, by nature, at enmity 
with God ; and must either be renewed in the spirit of his 
mind, or perish eternally. It is of no consequence what you 
are as to outward station, if you are not reconciled to God : 
it is of no consequence what you are as to outward pro- 
fessions, if you are not inwardly changed. God is no 
respecter of persons ; and, therefore, whether you are high 
or low, rich or poor, whether you are of one denomination 
of Christians, or another, if you have not been the subjects 
of a renewing and sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, you 
are children of wrath ; and if you die in that condition, must 
"go away into everlasting punishment." 

But is there now no relief? Yes, there is : Jesus is " able 
to save to the uttermost, all that come to God by him." 
Fly to him for refuge. There is no sin of so deep a dye, 
but the blood of Christ is sufficient to wash it out. There 
is no slave of Satan so loaded with chains, but Christ is able 
to set him free. If you perish, it is of yourself. I have 
given you warning, from a sincere and ardent concern for 



IQ THE NEW BIRTH. 

your everlasting interest ; and may God himself, for Christ's 
sake, by his Holy Spirit, effectually persuade you to comply 
with it. 



MY SPIRIT SHALL XOT ALWAYS STRIVE. 

Say, siimer, hath a voice within. 
Oft whispered to thy secret soul. 

Urged thee to leave the ways of sin. 
And yield tliy heart to God's control ? 

Hath something met thee in the path 

Of worldliness and vanity. 
And pointed to the coming wTath, 

And warn'd thee from that WTath to flee ? 

Sinner, it was a heavenly voice — 
It was the Spirit's gracious call ; 

It bade thee make the better choice. 
And haste to seek in Christ thine all. 

Spurn not the call to life and light, 
Regard in time tlie warning kind ; 

That call thou may'st not always slight. 
And yet the gate of mercy find. 

God's Spirit will not always strive 
With harden'd, self-destroying man ; 

Ye who persist his love to grieve, 
May never hear his voice again. 

Sinner — ^perhaps this very day 
Thy last accepted time may be ; 

Oh, shouldst thou grieve him now away. 
Then hope may never beam on thee. 



]\o. 99. 

THE BENEFITS 

OF 

SAICTiriED AFELICTIOIS. 



Apostate man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly 
upward. This is the language of inspiration, and it is the 
language of experience. While God is daily conferring 
favors upon us, he is at the same time bearing constant tes- 
timony against our sins, by giving to us the cup of sorrow. 
Disappointed hopes, losses, pains, and death, must be endured 
by man. Roses, scattered by the side of his path through 
life, are found to grow on thorns. His present state is a 
state of disappointment and trial. 

It ought to be our constant endeavor to derive benefit 
from our afflictions. If they be sanctified to us, as they are 
to all God's people, we shall be enabled to say, with the 
Psalmist, " It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that 
I might learn thy statutes." He found his trouble operating 
for his spiritual and everlasting good. He was excited by 
them to learn God's statutes, or to study and obey his re- 
vealed will. Divine truth became sweeter than honey to 
his taste. His love to God's character, law, government, 
and grace was increased, and he was engaged to run the 
way of his commandments with greater delight. 

It is the design of this Tract to point out some of the 

EVIDENCES AND BENEFITS OF SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS ; and 

if it shall be the means of imparting true consolation to any 
afflicted soul, the writer will have an abundant reward. 

1. Our afflictions promote our best good when we acknow- 
ledge and adore the hand of God in bringing them upon us. 
God is the universal Creator. All creatures and events, 
both in the natural and moral world, are, and for ever must 
VOL. III. 35 



2 SANCTIFIED AFx^LICTIONS. 

remain under liis government. If creatures could hold 
their existence of themselves, they would become independ- 
ent of God, and might control his designs. Some contend 
that God maintains a general providence, but not a particu- 
lar one, over the works of his hand ; and represent it as 
beneath the dignity of the Infinite Mind to regard the minute 
parts of creation. But let such persons consider, that a 
general providence implies the government of all the par- 
ticular things of which it is composed, and that all parts of 
the divine plan are connected, and therefore a denial of a 
particular providence goes to a denial that God governs the 
world. There may be a connection, which is discerned in 
the divine mind, between the opening of a flower and the 
rise of a nation ; the direction of a mote, and the fall of an 
empire. Though such knowledge is too high for us, it is 
not too high for the mind of Jehovah, and heightens the idea 
of his infinite greatness. When we consider him as gov- 
erning all creatures and events, both great and small, we 
may discover something of that glory which demands our 
admiration and praise. 

It is abundantly revealed in the Holy Scriptures, that 
the evils which men endure are inflicted by divine Provi- 
dence. " Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath 
not done it?" Amos 3 : 6. "Out of the mouth of the 
Most High proceedeth not evil and good V Lam. 3 : 38. 
It is unnecessary to spend time in proving a doctrine which 
is abundantly revealed in the inspired volume. If it were 
a fact that our troubles were the fruit of accident or chance, 
or blind fate, we must be inconsolable under them. But we 
are certain that " affliction cometh not forth of the dust, 
neither doth trouble spring out of the ground." 

We may be rationally convinced, that the evils which 
we endure proceed from the hand of God ; and yet we may 
practically refuse to acknowledge and adore his agency. 
There is a wide difference, in the present case, between ac- 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 3 

knowledging and murmuring, and acknowledging and ador- 
ing. The former conduct characterizes the wicked ; the 
latter characterizes the righteous. What a vast difference 
was there between the acknowledgment which Pharaoh paid 
to Jehovah, and that which was paid by Moses. Pharaoh 
was compelled to acknowledge the hand of Jehovah in bring- 
ing the plagues upon Egypt ; but while he made this con- 
fession, his heart rose up against the church of Israel and 
their God. Moses acknowledged the divine hand in bring- 
ing judgments upon the Egyptians and* the Israelites, and at 
the same time he adored or reverenced him who was reveal- 
ing his wrath against the disobedient. The devils acknow- 
ledge the existence of the only living and true God ; but in 
the moment of the confession, they tremble with horror, and 
are filled with pain. All the godly have a pleasing belief 
in the divine government, in the most trying seasons, and 
rejoice, in a higher or lower degree, in the dominion of infi- 
nite wisdom and love. They see the hand which is stretched 
out in a way of correction, as well as in a way of mercy. 

When Job's substance and children were taken from 
him in one day, he said, " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord." And when 
the Lord smote him with " sore biles, from the sole of his 
foot unto his crown, and he took him a potsherd to scrape 
himself withal, and sat down among the ashes," he replied 
to the bitter reproaches of his wife, " What ! shall we 
receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive 
evil ? In all this did not Job sin with his lips." The apos- 
tle saith, Heb. 12 : 9, " Furthermore, we have had fathers 
of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them rever- 
ence ; shall we not rather be in subjection to the Father of 
spirits, and live ?" From these instances, with many more 
which might be adduced, it is evident that pious men ac- 
knowledge and adore the divine hand, in laying the load 
upon them. If, when we are afflicted, we eventually find 



4 SA^X'T1FEED AFFLICTIONS. 

our minds driven further from God and a cheerful acknow- 
ledgment of his chastising hand, we have just cause to be 
alarmed. But let us not conclude in a moment, when we 
first enter into the furnace of affliction, that God hath for- 
saken us, because we have not that lively sense of his per- 
fection and his providence which we may have had hereto- 
fore. If we find within ourselves, that amidst all the tumult 
and darkness of our minds, we have a fixed determination 
to trust in God though he slay us, we shall find some en- 
couragement to hope' that hereafter light will break in upon 
our minds, and that the present scourge will yield the peace-, 
able fruit of righteousness. 

So long as we look no higher than second causes to find 
the author of our troubles, we shall pay no homage to God, 
and shall murmur at his dealings. Let the heart be placed 
upon the perfect character and government of the Most 
High, and we shall be stilled from complaining of our lot, 
and shall, with Moses, Job, David, and other saints, both in 
the Old Testament and in the New, feel a holy reverence 
towards Him who is pleased to chastise us. No affliction 
for the present is joyous, but grievous ; but when it is sanc- 
tified, it produces a peace and a joy to which the men of this 
world are strangers. All things work together for the good 
of them that love God, and the light and momentary afflic- 
tions of this life will work for them a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory in the world to come. 

2. It is good for us to have been under the rod, when 
we are led to a dear discovery of our sins, and a cordial ac- 
hioivledgment of the divijie justice and wisdom in our chas- 
tisement. "I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, 
and that thou, in faithfulness, hast afflicted me." The eyes 
of the pious Psalmist were opened more clearly than ever 
upon his sins, and he felt that God was perfectly just in the 
present affliction. 

Job says, in his address to the Lord, near the close of 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICT10x\S. 



his long and heavy trials, " I have heard of thee by the 
hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee ; where- 
fore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." Observe 
the language of the faithful, while Jerusalem lay in ruins, 
and its inhabitants were either slain by the sword, or gone 
into captivity : " Wherefore doth a living man complain, a 
man for the punishment of his sins ? Let us search and 
try our ways, and turn again to the Lord." The penitent 
Jews, after their return from Babylon, confessed that God 
was just in all that he had brought upon them; that he had 
done right, and that they had done wickedly. 

The primitive Christians, while they were in bonds and 
imprisonment, and were exposed to meet death in its most 
dreadful forms, had a deep impression that they were among 
the chief of sinners, and thought themselves honored by 
being accounted worthy to sutler shame for Christ's name. 

Even Christians have but a small degree of knowledge 
of the depravity of their hearts, and the sins of their lives, 
until they are called to pass through some painful trials. 
Prosperity is apt to lull the mind to sleep, to abate its devo- 
tion, to slacken its watchfulness, and to throw a languor over 
all its exertions. How natural is it for us to say, when our 
mountain seemeth to stand strong, that we shall never be 
moved, or that adversity will never overtake us ! When 
Christians are indulging this frame, they are preparing the 
way to meet with some disappointment, worldly loss or be- 
reavement, or to be scourged in their own persons. When 
God is pleased to afflict them, they will be roused to self- 
examination and prayer. They will not pretend to the 
knowledge of all the reasons why God is now contending 
with them, but they will see enough in themselves to dis- 
cover to them the titness, the necessity, and the justice of 
the present rod. 

Instead of wondering at the present correction, they will 
rather wonder that they have escaped so long, and have 
VOL. III. 35*' 



6 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

enjoyed so much prosperity. Sdilh the patient Christian in 
his afflictions, " I am convinced that I am a great sinner ; 
and that I deserve all the expressions of divine wrath against 
the wicked, in time and in eternity. How have I ' forsaken 
God which made me !' ' how have I lightly esteemed the 
Rock of my salvation !' I have refused to give God the 
throne in my heart, and have been setting up idols there. I 
have shamefully neglected to reverence God's name and 
day, and have attended the ordinances of his house with 
coldness and inditlerence. I have not placed a just value 
on the faith once delivered to the saints, and have not been 
valiant for the truth upon the earth. How unfaithful have 
I been in the discharge of the duties which I owe to my 
family, to the church, and to the commonwealth ! I have 
neglected to instruct, counsel, and warn those to whom I 
have had near access ; and have said to them, by my ex- 
ample, that religion is of no importance, and that worldly 
glory constitutes the happiness of man. What abundant 
cause have I to mourn before God, that I have indulged so 
much malice towards my fellow-men ! that I have been so 
unwilling to forgive my enemies ; and have been so ready 
to rejoice at their overthrow ! What impure thoughts have 
I indulged, and how much have I done to encourage the 
licentious in their conduct ! I have not maintained the 
justice, the mercy, or the truth, which the divine law and 
the Gospel require. I have coveted my neighbor's sub- 
stance and enjoyments ; I have envied his superior pros- 
perity and gifts, and have been discontented with the place 
assigned me in the world. 

" How often have I despised the only Saviour of sinful 
men ! And since I have been numbered among his follow- 
ers, how unfaithful have I been to the duties of my holy 
profession ! I have solemnly engaged to view myself as my 
own no more, and to be wholly devoted to the Redeemer, 
in life and in death. How cold have been my affections 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 7 

towards him, who is the great Immaiiuel, God with us ! In 
how many ways have I sought to shun the cross, and to en- 
joy the smiles of an ungodly world ! Christ's kingdom is 
of infinite worth, but I have refused to promote it as became 
me, and have symbolized with the god of this world. I have 
abundant cause for deep humiliation, that I have abused 
my mercies, and have been so incorrigible under afflictions. 
Many promises of amendment have I broken, and 1 have paid 
little regard to my covenant bonds. I might justly be 
crushed by the present rod, and become a monument of 
God's everlasting wrath. I should have no just cause of 
complaint, were I deprived of all hope, and doomed to dwell 
in the regions of eternal despair. But O, thou God of grace ! 
save me, I beseech thee ! Correct me in measure and in 
mercy. Let it be the fruit of this affliction to take away 
sin, and to prepare me for the service and enjoyment of thy- 
self for ever !" When such are the breathings of the heart, 
in a time of trouble, affliction is not sent in vain. 

When God's children are under the rod, they will be 
convinced of the wisdom as well as the justice of the present 
chastisement. O Christian, is thy worldly substance taken 
from thee ? Thou wilt be led to inquire, whether thy heart 
has not been too much placed upon it, and whether this ex- 
traordinary attachment has not rendered it necessary that 
thy present loss should be sustained. 

Set thy affections more abundantly on things which are 
above, and be more engaged than ever in laying up a treas- 
ure in heaven. Hast thou met with ingratitude and unkind- 
ness from one of thy fellow-creatures, on whom thou hast 
conferred many benefits ? Let this requital of evil for good 
serve to teach thee the folly of trusting in an arm of flesh, 
and engage thee to trust in the living God. Hast thou fondly 
doated on the person who now seeks to pierce thee to thy 
heart ? Let the reception of evil for good bring thy benev- 
olence to the trial, and engage thee to imitate thy Saviour 



8 S.\NCTIF1ED AFFLICTIONS. 

in the forgiveness of enemies. Hath God taken from thee, 
by death, thy bosom friend, or the child of thy love ? Ask 
thyself whether the deceased had not taken the place of 
God in thy heart, and rendered the present blow a neces- 
sary one for thy best good. Be assured that thou must be 
divorced from thy idols, or from God. And as thou art one 
of his children, he will take from thee the object of thy 
idolatrous love. Thy case would be deplorable indeed, if 
under thy bereavement thou couldst justly say, with Micah, 
" Ye have taken away my gods, and what have I more ?" 

Art thou in a state of languishment, or pain of body, and 
are wearisome days and wearisome nights appointed unto 
thee ? Inquire whether thou wast not too confident of the 
continuance of health in former days, and whether thou 
wast not unthankful to Him who was the health of thy coun- 
tenance. Perhaps thou hadst some favorite plan to accom- 
plish, and wast confident that thy strength and vigor would 
be continued until thou hadst realized thy strong hopes. Is 
it not just and wise in God to convince thee of thy arrogant 
presumption, by making thee to feel that thy breath is in thy 
nostrils, and that thou must soon be laid in the grave ? Hast 
thou not cause to bless God, that he is now teaching thee 
the vanity of this world, and preparing thee for the joys of 
a glorious immortality ? 

We are inclined to say, that some other affliction would 
be better suited to promote our best good, than the present ; 
and that some other time would be a more fit time than the 
period that was chosen. But how incompetent judges are 
we, what is wisest and best to be done ! If we were to be 
our own judges in the present case, we should select a trial, 
and a time of suffering, which would lead us to avoid the 
cross, and leave us strangers to our own hearts. We might, 
indeed, by planning for ourselves, be involved in far greater 
difficulty than the present, and sink into despair. God, who 
knoweth our particular frame and temper, best knoweth 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 9 

when and how to try us, and hoAv long to continue us under 
the rod. If we derive spiritual benefit from the afflictions 
which we endure, we shall be humbled for our sins, and we 
shall be still and know that the Lord he is God. We shall 
no longer say, any other trouble rather than the present, and 
any other time to endure it rather than the present ; but we 
shall say, " O Lord, thy will be done, both as to the kind and 
continuance of affliction. Oh, cause me to adore thy justice 
and thy wisdom, and humbly to implore thy mercy." 

Those who make the knowledge of their hearts their 
study, will not pass through days of adversity without dis- 
covering, more than ever before, their sins, nor without 
viewing them in new points of aggravation. Sins which 
had been forgotten will be called to remembrance, and the 
aggravating circumstances which attended them will rush 
upon the mind. , In the view of them, the humble penitent 
will feel that the divine justice would have shone with dis- 
tinguished brightness in his eternal condemnation, and will 
be excited with great and earnest importunity to implore 
the divine mercy. 

3. The subjects of sanctified afflictions will find the 
grace of the Gospel peculiarly endeared to thein. " Before 
I was afflicted," saith the Psalmist, " I went astray ; but 
now have I kept thy word." Here we may observe, that 
the pious Psalmist was led, by means of his afflictions, to 
love more than ever the book of God's grace, and to conform 
to it in his practice. " We glory in tribulation ; knowing 
that tribulation worketh patience, and patience experience, 
and experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed ; be- 
cause the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the 
Holy Ghost, which is given unto us." Rom. 5 ; 3-5. " For, 
as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation 
also aboundeth by Christ. We had the sentence of death 
in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in 
God which raiseth the dead." 2 Cor. 1 : 5, 9. 



10 SANCTU^IED AFFLICTIONS. 

The more deeply any are impressed with a sense of their 
sins, and of the divine justice in their punishment, the more 
fully are they convinced of the necessity of Gospel grace, 
and the more clearly do they see the glory of the Gospel 
plan of salvation. Seasons of suffering have often proved 
seasons of high enjoyment to the people of God. The pa- 
triarchs, prophets, .apostles, and the primitive Christians 
in general, under their trials, were favored with abundant 
communications of divine grace, and rejoiced in hope of 
the glory of God. We may observe, at the present time, 
that those who appear to be true Christians, shine brightest 
when in the furnace. To them, Christ appears peculiarly 
precious, and they appear, at times, to be cheerful in giv- 
ing up all things for his sake. They discover that they 
count not their lives dear unto themselves, that they may 
finish their course with joy. 

Christians, when under the rod, read the Holy Scrip- 
tures with a special attention and uncommon engagedness, 
and manifest a strong relish for the truths contained in the 
inspired volume. They now feel that God's word is a light 
unto their feet and a lamp unto their path, while passing 
through the darkness and temptations of the present world. 

" This is my comfort," says the Psalmist, "in my afflic- 
tion, for thy word hath quickened me. Thy statutes have 
been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage. The law 
of thy mouth is better unto me than thousands of gold and 
silver. How sweet are thy words unto my taste ! Yea, 
sweeter than honey to my mouth." Afflictions are neces- 
sary to lead us to understand many parts of the Bible, par- 
ticularly those which relate to sufferings, and the divine 
support under them. Who understandeth, like the good 
man under the rod, how tribulation worketh patience, and 
patience experience, and experience hope ? Who under- 
standeth, like the patient sufferer, how consolation aboundeth 
by Christ, as the fruit of chastisement ? The best of men 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. H 

do not know how much they trust in themselves and in the 
world, until their attachment is tried, and broken by the 
rod. Now they see more fully than ever their own folly in 
placing such confidence in the things which perish. They 
will bless God for ever for that discipline which hath opened 
to them the pride and deceitfulness of their hearts, and hath 
brought them to discern the worth and glory of that king- 
dom which cannot be moved. True Christians have rarely 
so clear evidence of their adoption, as when their earthly 
hopes are dashed in pieces. 

4. Sanctified afflictions lead men to be more attentive to 
the duties wliich they owe more im7nediately to God. What 
a wide difference is there, in ordinary cases, between the 
prayers which are made in a day of adversity, and those 
which are made in prosperous seasons ! Those who feel 
themselves to be burdened with guilt and sorrow, and are 
convinced that God is a rewarder of those who diligently 
seek him, will go to the throne of grace, and seek for mercy. 

Prayer is not to them an unwelcome task, but is the de- 
light of their souls. When they find Satan and their wicked 
hearts striving to throw hinderances in the way of the per- 
formance of this duty, they will not rest until they have in 
some degree obtained the victory, and can fervently pour out 
their hearts to God. He is pleased sometimes remarkably to 
fill their mouths with arguments, when all worldly appearan- 
ces are against them, while they are bowing at his footstool 
They are uncommonly assisted in praying for themselves, for 
their families and friends, for enemies, for the whole human 
race, and especially for the peace and prosperity of Zion. 

It is painful to those who derive benefit from their 
afflictions, to be deprived, by ill health or other means, of 
attending on the worship and ordinances of God's house. 
These are objects for which they find an increasing relish, 
as they are emptied from vessel to vessel, by their trying 
changes. Hence, when they are excluded from the place 



12 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

they love, they can adopt the language of David, when 
he was wandering in the wilderness of Judea, by the per- 
secutions of Saul : " O God, thou art my God ; early will I 
seek thee. My soul thirsteth for thee in a dry and thirsty 
land, where no water is ; to see thy power and thy glory, as 
I have seen thee in the sanctuary." Psalm 63 : 1, 2. 

5. Sanctified afflictions are instrumental in stirring up 
persons to a faithful discharge of the duties of the second 
tahJe of the law. I here mention particularly the duty of 
compassion and kindness to those who are afflicted. We 
are commanded to bear one another's burdens, to live as 
brethren, to be pitiful, and to be courteous. There are 
men whose inward thought is, that their houses shall con- 
tinue for ever, and their dwelling-places to all generations. 
They are intoxicated with their prosperity, and presume 
that no painful changes await them. They look with con- 
tempt upon the needy and afflicted, and are disposed to 
charge them with bringing their troubles on themselves, 
or continuing them by their imprudence or timidity. But 
Christianity speaks a very different language. " Remem- 
ber them that are in bonds, as bound with them ; and them 
which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the 
body." Heb. 13 : 3. Nothing teaches persons to feel for 
the children of sorrow, like experience in the school of 
adversity. This eminently qualifies the followers of the 
compassionate Saviour to sympathize with the afflicted, and 
to strive to lighten their woes. They extend their compas- 
sionate feelings to all who are in trouble, and especially to 
those who are the friends of the Redeemer. They will 
strive to relieve the wants of those who are needy, and to 
bind up the broken spirit. " Who comforteth us in all our 
tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are 
in any trouble by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are 
comforted of God." 2 Cor. 1 : 4. They labor to turn the 
attention of their afflicted fellow-mortals to the only source 



SAXCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 13 

of consolation, and to prepare them for deliverance in the 
present world, and immortal glory in the world to come. 
They can cheerfully welcome to their bosoms the humble 
and patient disciples of the blessed Saviour, however much 
they are despised by the ungodly world. Knowing these 
to be the excellent of the earth, they are compassionate and 
kind to them for their Lord and Master's sake, and rejoice 
in the blessed prospect of meeting them in the paradise 
above, where all sorrow and crying shall be done away. 

The enemies of the primitive Christians remarked con- 
cerning them, when they* saw their strong mutual affection 
under their fiery trials, " Behold how these Christians love 
one another!" The disciples of Christ sometimes, in the 
present world, fall out with each other, and give mutual 
wounds. But joint sufferings have always been found to 
check their animosities, and to unite them in the closer bonds 
of affection. When such are the fruits of our afflictions, 
we have not been smitten in vain, but shall derive peace and 
comfort from them in this world, and shall receive a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory in the world to come. 

6. Sanctified afflictions are instrumental in iveaning men 
from earthly attachments, and in ripening them for death and 
heaven. The pious patriarchs confessed themselves, amidst 
their troubles, to be pilgrims and strangers on the earth, and 
to be looking for a city which hath foundations, whose build- 
er and maker is God. The primitive Christians took joy- 
fully the spoiling of their goods, knowing that they had in 
heaven a better and an enduring substance. 

Pious persons, who have suffered many pains, and en- 
dured many outward losses and bereavements, look upon 
this world as an empty place, and not by any means wor- 
thy to be sought as a portion. While they give thanks to 
God for the innumerable temporal blessings they have re- 
ceived, they dare not rest their hope of support and enjoy- 
ment on any thing beneath the skies. 
VOL. iir. 36 



14 S.INCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

They can discern no earthly prospect which has una- 
duherated charms ; but every thing around them wears the 
appearance of decay and dissolution. They watch and pray 
that they may not be ensnared by earthly allurements, and 
that they may be in constant readiness for the approaching 
change by death. The eternal world grows more and more 
familiar to their minds, and their thoughts are much em- 
ployed on that state into which they are soon to enter. 
Many of their meditations are employed on death and on the 
future judgment. Although they cannot determine what 
their views will be when they shall*be called to walk through 
the dark valley, yet they believe that the end of the upright 
man will be peace. They are much in prayer to God 
that he will not forsake them in the hour of death ; and be- 
lieve that the only way in which divine consolation is then 
to be expected, is in a humble walk with God, and in the 
faithful discharge of every duty, while life is continued. 
What a firm hope, and what animating prospects were en- 
joyed by the apostle, when he could declare, " For w^e know 
that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, 
we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly 
desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from 
heaven. We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be 
absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord !" 
2 Cor. 5: 1, 2, 8. How earnestly desirous was our apos- 
tle, that Christ might be magnified in his body, whether by 
life or by death ! He could say, " For me to live is Christ, 
and to die is gain. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit 
of my labor; yet what I shall choose I wot," or know, 
" not. For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to 
depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better." Phil. 
1 : 21-23. 

Let not Christians in general be discouraged because 
they have not risen to the attainments of the apostle Paul. 



SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 15 

He was raised up for eminent usefulness in the church of 
God, and he did more to propagate Christianity than any 
other mere man who hath lived. He suffered much in his 
labors to advance and defend the religion of the blessed 
Saviour. To use his own language, he was " in deaths 
oft," while travelling round the world to proclaim the glad 
tidings of peace and salvation through a crucified Saviour. 
The followers of Christ generally, have not been called to 
such services as was the apostle, nor to endure such trials 
as he endured, and therefore it is not strange that their con- 
solations should fall far below his. But remember, ye pa- 
tient sufferers, that God is not unmindful of your labor of 
love, and that he is training you up to serve him better on 
earth, and to enjoy a brighter crown in heaven. God will 
not break the bruised reed, r.nd the smoking flax he will not 
quench. He heareth every sigh, and every breathing of 
the contrite heart, and will give you grace to persevere to 
the end of your days, and to come off conquerors, yea, more 
than conquerors, through Him who hath loved you, and 
given himself to die for you. 

We always find the most heavenly-minded Christians 
among those who have smarted most by the rod. To them, 
meditations have become familiar on that glorious state in 
which the redeemed will be brought into the immediate 
presence of God and the Lamb, and will unite with the 
spirits of just men made perfect, and with the holy angels, 
in everlasting songs of praise. However far they may fall 
short of rapturous enjoyments in religion while they see 
through a glass darkly, they discover a solidity and firmness 
in their exercises, which manifest that their light is shining 
\vith increasing brightness unto the perfect day. 

I have now endeavored to collect and bring into view 
some of the principal evidences of sanctified afflictions. 
Can we say, in a review of our troubles, as the Psalmist 



16 SANCTIFIED AFFLICTIONS. 

did, in a review of his, " It is good for me that I have been 
afflicted ; that I might learn thy statutes ?" Our afflictions 
have certainly had some effect upon us ; cither in render- 
ing our hearts tender, and our lives obedient, or in harden- 
ing our hearts, and occasioning us to become more obstinate 
and open in the practice of wickedness than ever. If the 
last be the effect, our case is alarming indeed, and we have 
much cause to fear, that to us is reserved the blackness of 
darkness for ever. 

Let us recollect the marks or evidences of sanctified 
afflictions, wliich have now been brought into view, and im- 
partially compare ourselves with them. These are plain 
rules of trial, and such as must commend themselves to our 
minds. If we have sought to regard them in our practice, 
when we have been in tribulation, we have found true peace, 
and can say with the Psalmist, that " it is good for us that 
we have been afflicted." Are there not some who can 
adopt this language, and find evidence that they are heirs 
of heaven, and can say, in some happy moments, with the 
Apostle, " I reckon that the sufferings of this present time 
are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall 
be revealed in us?" Rom. 8 : 18. Let such maintain, at 
all times, a patient, and a devout, and a watchful, and a 
heavenly temper. Their days of mourning will soon be 
ended, and they will soon be admitted into the world of 
everlasting light and glory. 

How awful is the state of those who have become hardened 
in all their afflictions ! What can such expect, in the course 
which they are pursuing, but everlasting misery ? " He that 
being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be 
destroyed, and that without remedy." Prov. 29 : 1. What 
cause is there to fear that all the evils which they have felt 
in the present world, are but so many presages of wrath in the 
world to come ! Let them be warned — let them be entreated, 
to search and try their ways, and turn unto the Lord ! 



J¥o. 100. 

THE 



WEDDING GARMENT 



A WORTHY minister, early on Monday morning, called 
upon one of his hearers, who had been kept from the sanc- 
tuary by illness, and found him carefully reading the Bible. 
"Well, Thomas," said his kind pastor, "you seem deter- 
mined to be a Berean Christian ; which, by the way, is a 
peculiar privilege at all times, but especially in these days, 
when some are disposed to raise the works of fallible men 
to a level with the word of God." " A Berean Christian, 
sir," said Thomas, " is that a new sect which has arisen 
in these times ?" " O no," replied his pastor, " it is as 
old as the days of the apostles : you may read about it in 
Acts, 17: 11, 12, 'These were more noble than those in 
Thessalonica, in that they received the word with all read- 
iness of mind, and searched the Scriptures daily, whether 
those things were so. Therefore many of them believed ; 
also of honorable women which were Greeks, and of men, 
not a few.' " 

Thomas. Well, I think I can say it is my wish to be 
like these Bereans. I hope the word of the Lord becomes 
more and more precious to me. 

Minister. Ah, Thomas, if all the professors of religion 
would read the Bible with prayerful attention, and with a 
constant desire to be taught by the Holy Spirit, we should 
see them more firmly established and rooted in the faith, 
and not driven about by every wind of doctrine. If we 
wish to be established Christians, we must be diligent read- 

VOL. III. 36* 



2 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 

ers of the holy volume ; then we shall " grow in grace, and 
in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ." 
What part have you been reading to-day 1 

Thomas. One of the parables, sir. 

Minister. Our Lord very often taught his followers 
by them. A parable, Thomas, is a picture, not for the eye, 
but for the mind. Which of the parables have you just 
read ? 

Thobias. That of the marriage feast, in the 22d of St. 
Matthew^s Gospel. 

Minister. That is an encouraging representation of the 
rich provisions made for poor sinners in the Gospel, and the 
willingness of our heavenly Father that all should partake 
of them. It grieves one to think that any should make 
light of them. 

Thomas. True, sir : but how long I was guilty of that 
sin ! How long I heard the Gospel faithfully preached, 
without giving up my heart to the Lord. It is a mercy 
that I was not cast out when at last I came to the Saviour. 

Minister. Cast out, Thomas ! There is no casting out 
of sinners who come to Christ for mercy. He has said, 
" All that the Father giveth me shall come to me ; and him 
that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." John, 6 : 37. 
Mark the words, Thomas, " I will in no wise cast out :" un- 
der no circumstances whatever. Those only are cast out 
at last who reluse to come to Christ, that they may have 
life. 

Thomas. Yes, sir ; but there is one part of the para- 
ble that sometimes makes me tremble. The king said to his 
servants, " Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many 
as ye shall find, bid to the marriage. So those servants 
went out into the highways, and gathered together all e^s 
many as they found, both bad and good ; and the wedding 
was furnished with guests." Matt. 22: 9, 10. Now, sir, 
the bad and the good were all gathered together, and all 



THE WEDDIJNG GARMENT. ti 

went to the wedding feast, and yet one was not welcome. 
O, I fear that I shall be that one ! 

Minister. Read the passage. 

Thomas. " When the king came in to see the guests, 
he saw there a man which had not on a wedding garment. 
And he saith unto Jiim, Friend, how camest thou in hither, 
not having a wedding garment ? And he was speechless. 
Then said the king to the servants. Bind him hand and foot, 
and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness ; there 
shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." Matt. 22 : 11-13. 
You see, sir, there is casting away after all, though we may 
come to the feast. 

Minister. Not if we come according to the invitation. 

Thomas. Ah, there is the point that has troubled me. 
Now, did not the poor man come according to the invitation ? 
The servants were to go into the highways, and as many 
as they found they were to bid to the marriage. They 
found the poor man who was condemned by the king : he 
came when invited, and yet he was cast out. 

Minister. Yes, but the reason is given, Thomas : he 
"had not on a wedding garment." 

Thomas. But there was nothing about the wedding gar- 
ment in the invitation. The king only said, " Go ye there- 
fore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to 
the marriage." You see, sir, there is nothing said about 
the wedding garment. 

Minister. No, there is not ; but supposing that when 
this man came to the palace, the servants of the king told 
him that, before he went in to the feast, he must put on a 
wedding garment which the king had provided, and when 
the servants offered the garment he refused to put it on, do 
you not think he would then be worthy of condemnation ? 

ThOxMAS. Surely he would. But was there one pro- 
vided ? 

Minister. No doubt there was, for it was always the 



4 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 

custom to do so, a custom which remains to the present 
day in the families of rich and great men in the Eastern 
countries. 

Thomas. But there is nothing about it in the parable. 

Minister. No, Thomas. As I told you, a parable is 
to the mind what a picture is to the eye : it shows forth a 
great truth. In a picture, there is some leading object to 
which the painter wishes to direct our attention ; so it is in 
a parable. Our Lord, in the parable of the marriage feast, 
referi'ed to a custom which existed in his days, and which 
is still continued. It was well known to his hearers ; and 
therefore it was not necessary that all the particulars of the 
custom should be mentioned in the parable. The great 
truth which Christ taught was, that all were welcome to the 
Gospel feast who came in the appointed way. 

Thomas. But what, sir, was the meaning of this wed- 
ding garment ? 

Minister. I will explain the matter. A gentleman, 
who died not long since, spent several years in Palestine, 
which is sometimes called the Holy Land, the country in 
which the prophets, our Lord, his evangelists, and the 
apostles lived. He once told his friends the following fact : 
" I was very anxious to witness an Eastern wedding. It is 
still celebrated at midnight, as described in the parable of 
the ten virgins, in the 25th of Matthew. To my great joy, 
a rich man sent me an invitation to be present at his daugh- 
ter's marriage. I thought I would pay my host all possible 
respect, and therefore I determined to go to the feast in the 
full dress of an English gentleman. On my way to the 
place where the wedding was to be celebrated, I met a 
friend, who inquired whither I was going ? I told him, 
to the wedding feast. ' But you cannot go as you are ; 
you have not on the wedding garment.' ' The wedding 
garment?' I replied — 'the wedding garment? I have no 
wedding garment to put on.' My friend answered, 'Yes, 



THE WEDDING GARMENT. 5 

you have : if you go back to your house and inquire of 
your servant, you will find that when the invitation was sent 
you, a wedding garment was sent at the same time. Go 
back and see. You cannot be admitted to the marriage 
feast without it.' On going back, I found a beautiful robe 
had been sent for me to put on. I then went, and received 
a hearty welcome ; but had I gone without it, the master 
of the house would have been offended, and I should have 
been cast out." Now, Thomas, do you understand why the 
king cast out the man from the feast ? 

Thomas. I think I do : it was not because no wedding 
garment was provided, but because the man refused to put 
it on after it was provided. 

Minister. Yes, that was the case ; and do you not 
now see the guilt of the man, and the justice of the king ? 
The king had not only given the invitation, but had pro- 
vided the garment. So it is in the provisions of grace. 
God has not only invited us to that rich marriage feast, 
which he has spread in heaven for " The Bride, the Lamb's 
wife," as the church is called ; but has also sent, with the 
invitation, the wedding garment, which he requires every 
guest to wear. That garment is the Righteousness of Christ, 
wrought out, perfected, and presented at the same time with 
the invitation of the Gospel ; and the first thing required of 
every one, to whom it is thus sent, is to put it on by faith. 
You see, therefore, the justice of the condemnation, which 
will fall on every one among the professed disciples of Christ, 
who shall finally be found not to have on the ready and the 
offered wedding garment. There are three solemn lessons 
which we may learn from this parable. 

1 . Sinners loill not he cast out lecause there luas no yro- 
visionjiiade for their salvation. The Gospel is compared to a 
marriage feast : all are invited, and all are welcome to come 
to God, that they may find mercy. " God so loved the world, 
that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believ- 



6 THE WEDDING GAR3IEx\T. 

eth ill iiini should not perish, but have everlasting life." 
John 3 : 16. The invitations of the Gospel, like those to 
the marriage feast, are addressed to all who will listen to 
them. " Whosoever will, let him take the water of life 
freely." Rev. 22: 17. There is a Redeemer, "who is 
able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God 
by him." Heb. 7 : 25. If the sinner refuse to come, he 
will be lost forever ; not because there was no way of salva- 
tion, but because he refused to accept the free and merciful 
offers of the Gospel. 

2. Sinners must come to God in the tcaij ivliich he has 
appointed. " I am the way, the truth, and the life," John, 
14:6, are our Saviour's blessed words. The poor man in 
the parable was welcome to the feast, provided he had put 
on the wedding garment. Surely it was his duty and pri- 
vilege to do this. The sinner never can appear before God 
in his own rio;hteousness. He has none. " Our rio;htcous- 
nesses," the prophet says, " are as filthy rags." Isa. 64 : 6. 
We are altogether defiled by sin : " There is none right- 
eous, no, not one." Rom. 3 : 10. How then can a sinner 
appear before God, and unite in the praises of the Redeemer 
in heaven ? He must put on the wedding garment, even 
the robe of the Saviour's righteousness. Now, mark what 
the Scripture says : " When we were yet without strength," 
or help, "Christ died for the ungodly." Rom. 5: 6. He 
was made " sin for us, who knew no sin ; that we might be 
made the righteousness of God in him." 2 Cor. 5: 21. 
He has been " made unto us wisdom, and righteousness." 
1 Cor. 1 : 30. The Bible tells us that our blessed Re- 
deemer, by his own perfect righteousness, even his obedi- 
cnce unto death, satisfied the justice of God for the sinner : 
having done this, the sinner must come to Christ, believe 
on him, and trust in his merits as the only ground of his 
acceptance with God. He is pardoned for what Christ has 
done for him, and he is accounted righteous for Christ's 



THE WEDDING GARMENT. 7 

sake, who is called "The Lord our righteousness." Jer. 
23 : 6. Now, when the sinner thus comes to God, he puts 
on the righteousness the Saviour has obtained for him ; and 
this is the only way in which he can be saved. If the sin- 
ner then should be lost, it will not be because there was no 
way of salvation, but because he refused to come to Christ 
in the appointed way. He will not put on the wedding 
garment, and will not his condemnation be just ? 

3. When the sinner stands at the judgment seat to re- 
ceive his final and eternal condemnation, he wqll be like the 
man in the parable — speechless ; that is, he will not have 
one word to say against the righteous judgment of God. 
He will then find that he was lost, not because there was 
no Saviour provided, but because he rejected that Saviour. 
He would not put on the wedding garment. You see, 
Thomas, the parable of the marriage feast is full of com- 
fort to all who come to Christ in the right way ; but full of 
awful warning to those who reject his righteousness, even 
the wedding garment in which alone we can find accept- 
ance before God. This is the fatal sin that will destroy 
thousands. 

Thomas. Yes, sir, I desire to feel more than ever I 
did, that the sinner will only have himself to blame for the 
eternal loss of his soul. 

Minister. It will be so, Thomas. God has provided 
a ransom, and invites the sinner to come and receive it. 
He has promised to give the Holy Spirit in answer to prayer. 
Every lost soul will see the truth of that scripture, " This 
is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and 
men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds 
were evil." John 3 : 19. How awful will be the reflec- 
tion of the sinner when he is in hell, " I am lost, eternally 
lost, not because there was no Saviour provided for sinners, 
but because I wilfully rejected that Saviour, and therefore 
died without pardon !" May the grace of God prevent us 



8 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 

from rejecting the Saviour ; may the Holy Spirit apply his 
salvation to our hearts ; and may we have greater pleasure 
than ever in singing our favorite hymn : 

Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 
Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd, 
With joy shall I lift up my head. 

When from the dust of death I rise, 
To claim my mansion in the skies ; 
E'en then shall this be all my plea, 
Jesus hath liv'd and died for me. 

Bold shall I stand in that great day ; 
For who aught to my charge shall lay. 
While, through thy blood, absolv'd I am 
From sin's tremendous curse and shame. 

Thus Abraham, the friend of God, 
Thus all the armies bought with blood, 
Saviour of sinners, thee proclaim ; 
Sinners, of whom the chief I am. 

This spotless robe the same appears 
When ruin'd nature sinks in years ; 
No age can change its glorious hue : 
The robe of Christ is ever new. 

let the dead now hear thy voice ! 
Bid, Lord, thy banish'd ones rejoice ; 
Their beauty this, their glorious dress, 
Jesus, the Lord, our righteousness. 

Wesley. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



iVo. 101. 



THE 



TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL 



Ye disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, your Saviour has 
set up a church in this world, has promised that the gates 
of hell shall not prevail against it, and that it shall one day- 
embrace all nations ; and calls upon you to consecrate your 
property to the diffusion of that Gospel, by which he brings 
men into his kingdom, and makes them happy. Will you 
hear me, while I offer a few arguments to induce you to 
obey him in this reasonable requisition ? I will enter upon 
the point without detaining you a moment, and when I have 
done, you must act as you think proper. 

The Jirst argument is, that "the earth is the Lord's, and 
the fulness thereof and hence he has a right to make this 
draft upon you. If I fail of establishing this point, you may 
lay down the book, and not read another line. You ac- 
knowledge God as the Creator of all things. Here I found 
his claim : it is prior to all others. He who built all worlds, 
and peopled them, and gave that people all their good things, 
may make a demand upon them, to any amount, with the 
certainty that it cannot be protested. His are all the 
" beasts of the forest," " and the cattle upon a thousand 

hills." The same is true of your silver, your merchandise, 
VOL. in. 37 



2 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

your children, your servants, and all you have. If not, 
then name the good thing that you can be sure will be yours 
to-morrow. Begin, if you please, at the bottom of the cata- 
logue of your comforts, and ascend through the whole series, 
to" the wife of your bosom, your health, and your life, and tell 
me which of the whole will be yours to-morrow. Dare you 
name nothing ? Then whosesoever they are, they surely 
are not yours. For he who has nothing that he can hold a 
day, has nothing but what is borrowed. And if the good 
things you possess are not yours, they are the Lord's ; or 
whose are they ? And what was the Lord's at first, because 
he made it, he has carefully watched over and preserved. 
Not merely could we have had nothing, if God had not 
made it ; but we could have kept nothing, if God had not 
preserved it. 

There is no kind of independence about us ; we should 
have been beggars if God had not cared for us. There 
was an eye that watched more, narrowly than we did or 
could, or our wealth had long since taken to itself wings, 
and had flown away. It was the blessed God that watered 
our fields, and gave success to our commerce, and health to 
our children ; that guarded our house from fire, and our 
lives from danger ; else we should have been beggars, or 
should, years ago, have perished. How many, once as 
wealthy as you, are now poor ; or as healthy as you, are 
now in the grave ; had a home as you have, but it burned 
down ; had children, as perhaps you have, but the cold blast 
came over them, and they died. And was it not the kindness 
of God that saved to you what you have ? May he not 
then claim as much of your wealth as he pleases ? 

But I am not through the argument. God has never 
alienated his rights. He has suffered Satan to be styled 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 3 

the god of this world, the prince of the power of the air ; 
but he owns nothing. The territories that he promised 
the Lord Jesus, if he would fall down and worship him, 
were not a foot of them his. And though men are per- 
mitted to hold under God certain rights, and which they 
sometimes term unalienable, still God never has renounced 
his right to dispose at pleasure of all that we term ours, 
and he never will. In a moment, if he pleases, day or 
night, he puts us out of our possessions, and the places that 
knew us, know us no more for ever. Thus the voluptuary 
in the Gospel, just when about to pull down his barns and 
build greater, that he might have room to deposit his good 
things, and when about to say to his soul, " thou hast good 
things laid up for many years," heard from heaven the 
unwelcome tidings, " this night thy soul shall be required 
of thee." In a few hours more his life-lease would be out, 
when all he had must revert to its original and rightful 
owner. 

Hence, we can serve God only with what is his already ; 
what he has never alienated. " Of thine own, we give 
thee." Now, that which God has put into our hands, and 
the right to which he has never relinquished, we may not, 
without the charge of fraud, appropriate otherwise than as 
he shall command us. 

But I have not done. God has often asserted his claim 
to what we term ours. This he does by his mercies. Ev- 
ery shower he sends, and every sun that rises, witnesses a 
God riding upon the heavens and making the clouds his 
chariot, that he may pay a friendly visit to his own territo- 
ries, and distil blessings upon the fields, whose fee, and all 
whose fruits are his ; and every breeze, and every dew that 
falls, but set forth their morning and their evening claim to 



4 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

their Master's right. Thus " day unto day uttereth speech" 
of him, and "night unto night" repeats again and again the 
story of his kindness to his own creations, and his care of 
his own territory. When was any one thus careful for 
another's interest, and thus intent upon rendering fertile a 
soil whose increase he might neither appropriate to himself 
nor call his own? And when he heals our sicknesses, and 
holds us back from the grave, and purifies our atmosphere 
with his lightnings, and bids the autumnal frosts to cure the 
fevers and the plagues of our cities, of whom does he take 
all this care, but of his children and his servants ? and when 
he heals the broken bone and restores the weary and the 
faint, has he no claim upon the existence he prolongs, 
and the health and life he gives ? and when he feeds us 
daily at his table, and regales us at his fountains, and rests 
us upon the works he built, and furnishes the eye with 
light, and gladdens every sense 'svith its appropriate delights, 
does he not assert his claim to be served and honored by 
the beings he thus indefatigably protects, and feeds, and 
heals, and nourishes ? Is there a star that twinkles in the 
firmament, or a moon that lights up night, or a bow that 
spreads its beauties on the cloud, and God is not seen in 
them, giving light and promise to the subjects of his own 
kingdom ? Is there a flower of May, or a dew-drop of 
morning, or a lineament in the human face, in which God 
is not seen pencilling out beauties upon his own works ? 
And who will deny that God has a paramount claim to a 
world where he expends so much of his wisdom and his 
care ? Where is the individual who will not acknowledge 
the rights of God ? 

And he asserts his claim again in the severities of his 
providence. Once he claimed the whole world, and, by a 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 5 

sudden and fearful dispensation, displaced every tenant that 
had ever occupied its soil, providing afterwards, timely and 
amply, for the single family he loved, and whom by cove- 
nant he had adopted as his own. And none will say that 
God went without his own dominions, to lay a world waste 
that was the property of another. When he burned the 
cities of the plain, he only asserted, though loudly and fear- 
fully, his rights; and pressed home to the bosom and the 
conscience, of foe and friend, his claim to be served and 
honored, in every valley that he ha<l made fertile, and by 
every people whom his kindness had made prosperous. 

In the ruin of all the ancient monarchies, God is seen in 
the attitude of asserting his claim to the kingdoms of men, 
as sections of his own empire, to which he will send other 
rulers, and other subjects, whenever he shall please. The 
desolating pestilences by which he has dispeopled towns and 
cities, and the thousand nameless sweeps of death written 
in our gloomy history, had all their commissions from 
heaven, to take back the life, and health, and comforts he 
had loaned to men. There was one kingdom we read of, 
whose whole population went seventy years into bondage, 
because their land had not been allowed to keep its Sab- 
baths, and they had not paid their tithes, and emancipated 
their servants at the appointed jubilee. 

The storms that have wrecked our merchandise, and 
the fires that have devoured our cities, and all the mis- 
named casualties that have ruined our fortunes, have been 
so many claims put in, by the rightful owner of all things, 
to what we had appropriated too exclusively to our own 
use. And the occurrences of every day are of the same 
character. 

I knovv^ this is not the world of retribution, and that 

VOL. III. 37^' 



6 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

" no man knoweth either good or evil, by any thing that 
is done under the sun;" but let us not deny, that God is 
"known by the judgment that he executeth." Will he 
not, by repeated demands, keep men in mind that they 
cultivate his territory, and feed on his bounty, and are 
happy under his auspices ? In thus asserting his claim to 
be served with the talents that he loans, he shows that one 
unchangeable law of his kingdom is, that he never alienates 
what was once his own. 

I shall not offend the good man, when I claim, that this 
has been a disastrous, because a disobedient world. Per- 
haps the aggregate of property lost by the various calami- 
ties that God has sent upon this world, would have exactly 
met the claims he had upon its charity. Had that wealth 
been expended as he directed, it would have made the 
world wise and happy. " Bring ye all the tithes into the 
storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and 
prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will 
not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a 
blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it." 
We read again, "There is that withholdeth more than is 
meet, but it tendeth to poverty." 

It is impossible to say how much more prosperous this 
world might have been, if men had expended their wealth 
as God would have them ; how much more frequently the 
showers had fallen, or more genial our sun, or more gentle 
our breezes, or mild our winters, or fertile our soil, or 
healthful our population, if we had been a better people, 
and had served the Lord w4th our substance. His promise 
must have failed, or he would have " filled our barns with 
plenty," and caused our " presses to burst out with new 
wine." 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 7 

As the churches shall wake to their duty, and give the 
world the Gospel, I hope, and if infidelity scoffs, still I will 
hope, that much of the curse will be removed from this ill- 
fated world, and God kindly " stay his rough wind, in the 
day of his east wind." How many of its plagues will be 
cured, its wars prevented, its heaths made fertile, and its 
earthquakes stilled ; and what the amount of blessings be- 
stowed upon this world, when it shall become more loyal 
and more benevolent, none but God can know. I cannot 
believe, that when we shall do as he bids us, he will so often 
rebuke us. When we cease to waste his goods, he will 
allow us to continue longer in the stewardship ; when we 
shall be faithful in the few things, he will make us rulers 
over many things. 

If you will now consider me as having established the 
divine claim to you, and all that you have, I will proceed 
to offer the second argument ; which is, that Christians, who 
have the means, should contribute to disseminate the Gos- 
pel, hecause they are heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Jesus 
Chjrist. They belong to that kingdom which the Gospel 
was intended to establish. This fact is quite enough to give 
the cause I plead a strong hold upon every pious heart. 
Ye disciples of the Lord Jesus, read once more the charter 
of your hopes ; and while it warms your heart, tell me if 
you have done half your duty. " All things are yours ; 
whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, 
or death, or things present, or things to come ; all are yours, 
and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's." Then it seems 
God and his people have but one interest. Hence, when 
he commands them to spread the Gospel, he but bids them 
buy themselves blessings, bids them foster their own inter- 
est, and make their own kingdom happy. The Christian 



g THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

has by his own act identified his whole interest with that of 
the church of our Lord Jesus Christ. If God is honored, 
he is happy ; and God is honored in the salvation of sin- 
ners, and in the joy of his people. Hence, God can com- 
mand his people to do nothing but that which will bless 
themselves. 

Now, when did you know of a k'ing's son who would 
not joyfully expend his father's treasures to enlarge, and 
strengthen, and beautify the kingdom to which he was heir? 
He thus polishes his own crown, and blesses his own future 
reign. What believer has not the same interest that God 
has, in lengthening the cords and strengthening the stakes 
of Zion ! He is one of the little flock, to whom it is his 
Father's good pleasure to give the kingdom. He is to be a 
king and a priest to God and the Lamb for ever ; and has 
he still an interest distinct from his heavenly Father 1 If 
not, he will hold all he has at the control of God. He will 
need only to know his duty, and will perform it most cheer- 
fully. 

The third reason why Christians, who have the means, 
should contribute to disseminate the Gospel, is, that they are 
merciful, as their Father in heaven is merciful. Over that 
mass of misery which the apostasy has produced, their 
pious hearts have long bled in sympathy. And their chari- 
ty is not of that kind that it can content itself with saying, 
" Be ye warmed, and be ye filled." They have read, and 
have strongly felt, that cutting interrogation of the apostle, 
" Whosoever hath this world's goods, and seeth his brother 
have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
him, how dwelleth the love of God in him ?" And there is 
no man so needy as he who has not the bread of life. The 
good man would render all men happy. His charity is 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 9 

warm, like that which beats in the heart of the Son of God ; 
and to do his duty is his meat and his drink. This makes 
him like his Master; and to this he aspires. He cannot 
hope to rejoice eternally in the achievements of redemption, 
unless, moved by the same pity for the miserable that he 
felt, he is prepared to come up promptly, and offer the Sav- 
iour any service he requires. 

Oh, it fills me with shame, when I must goad up my 
own heart, or must urge my Christian brother to be kind ; 
for it is acknowledged, that we owe all we have, and all we 
hope for, to the loving-kindness of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
Our reprieve from hell, we owe to his mercy ; and the food 
we eat, and the raiment we put on, and the friends who suc- 
cor us, and the tenement we dwell in, and the bed we rest 
on. He is the Saviour of all men ; ah, and more yet we 
owe him, for he is especially the Saviour of them that be- 
lieve. It is through him we have that pardon we speak of, 
that sanctification which we hope is begun, that adoption 
which placed us in his family, that peace of God which 
passeth all understanding, and that hope which we have 
cast within the veil. We had never discovered that we 
were sinners, but for his loving-kindness ; nor had mourned 
for sin, had the discovery been made ; nor had taken any 
hold on the atonement ; nor had looked complacently upon 
the attributes of God ; but had lived and died aliens from 
the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenant 
of promise ; nor had joined hereafter the redeemed of the 
Lord, or raised to his honor one anthem of praise. " God 
so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth in him, should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." And says an apostle, " Ye know the 
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, 



10 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his 
poverty might be rich." And can it still be true, and must 
it be told in Gath, and published in the streets of Askelon, 
that any of his people will not diminish their wealth a 
little for him who bought all their riches with his poverty ? 
Should there chance to be a covetous Christian among all 
the disciples of the Lord Jesus that will not spend his money 
to save men from hell, pray let his history be a secret, let 
him lodge in some wilderness, where his example may not 
cast a reproach upon his Master and his brethren ; and let 
him find a grave in some dark glen, and sleep in solitude, 
and rise alone, and come alone to the judgment. Still, 
when that brother shall die, and be reckoned with, it must 
remain a doubt whether, having showed no mercy, he must 
not expect judgment without mercy. 

r appeal then, ye disciples of Jesus Christ, to the kind- 
ness of your hearts, when I ask you to contribute of your 
wealth to render the world happy. Would you not cure 
some of the plagues that sin has generated, and that have 
so long preyed upon the blessedness of man ? Would you 
not quench the funeral pile, and save the young and beauti- 
ful, but infatuated widow, that she may nurse her imploring 
infant, and live to rear it up to life ? Would you not free 
one half of the human family, the female sex, from that 
servitude to which paganism has subjected them ? Would 
you not snatch ten thousand infants from the altars of devils, 
where they now lie, bound and weeping, waiting till you 
speak a word of mercy for them ? Would you not teach 
the vast herd of idolaters, that there is a kinder, and more 
merciful God, than those they worship ? Would you not 
break in upon the delusions of the false prophet, and tell 
his misguided followers, that you have read of a holier heav- 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. n 

en than they hope for ? Would you not file off the chains 
that have been fastened, so many centuries, upon poor af- 
flicted Africa ? Would you not stay the progress of war, 
and save the thousands that are marching, warm and 
weary, towards the field of death ? Oh, would you not, 
were it possible, bring back this base world to its home and 
its Maker? Have you then a purse, into which God 
may not thrust his hand, and take thence what he has 
there deposited, with a view to make this wretched world 
happy ? 

Bear with me, ye followers of the Lamb, a little longer, 
and I will say that you have covenanted to he workers to- 
gether with God in achieving the purposes of redemption, 
and must now employ your energies to widen the bounda- 
ries of his holy empire, or forfeit your promise. It was in 
you a voluntary compact ; and you pledged in that hour 
your prayers, your influence, your farm, your merchandise, 
your purse, your children, and all that you have. And 
Heaven has recorded that vow, to be brought up against 
you, if it be violated, in the day of retribution. It was 
wholly at your option, whether you would enter into that 
sweeping covenant, whether you would swear ; but you 
have entered, you have sworn, and cannot go back. You 
then relinquished for ever your personal rights, and have 
had, ever since, but a community of interest with God and 
his people. Now, God is employed in doing good, and his 
people too, if they are like him. How, then, will it corres- 
pond with your oath, to stand aloof from' the calls of the 
church — and disregard the command of God — and let the 
waste places lie desolate — and let the heathen die in their 
pollution — and let the captives perish in their chains — and 
let almost the whole of that territory, purchased with the 



22 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

blood of the Lord Jesus Christ, lie under the usurped do- 
minion of the prince of hell — and let a whole condemned 
world go to the judgment, with all this blood upon it, un- 
sanctified ? Oh, how will your broken vows rise and haunt 
you, in that day when the wealth you have saved shall be 
weighed in the balance with the souls it might have been 
the instrument of redeeming ! 

Who would venture upon the experiment of being con- 
victed of covenant-breaking before a congregated world ? 
of having embezzled the wealth God created purposely for 
the use of his church? of having squandered upon his 
person, or his children — perhaps to their ruin — what might 
have been used in turning the fertilizing stream of the 
gospel into some parched territory, where, ever since the 
apostasy, there has been only desolation, and famine, and 
pestilence ? Oh, who, for all the gold that has ever been 
counted, would go to the altar of God, and there swear 
that he would renounce the pomp and vanities of the world, 
and then go and stand impeached, before angels and devils, 
at the judgment-seat, of having loved the w^orld more than 
God, more than the souls of men, more than the kingdom of 
our Lord Jesus Christ ? 

I offer you one reason more. You have been sanctified, 
as you hope, through the truth ; and hence have some ex- 
perience of the value of that gospel which we urge you to 
promulgate. Once you were ignorant of God, and were 
unhappy. You were in somewhat the same forlorn con- 
dition with those whose cause I plead ; you had forsaken 
God, the fountain of living water, and had hewn out to 
yourselves broken cisterns, that could hold no water. And 
you remember that dark period. Your mind travelled from 
object to object, through all the round of created good, and, 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 13 

in search of blessedness, found no end, in wandering mazes 
lost. 

And there is a world of intelligent, immortal beings, 
seen panting and weary in the same fruitless chase. It 
was the blessed gospel that arrested you, and saved you. 
Your heedless steps it guided ; your dark mind it enlight- 
ened ; your erring conscience it rectified ; your insensibility 
it aroused ; your hard heart it softened ; your selfishness it 
expanded ; your pride it humbled ; your wayward course it 
changed ; your covenant with death, and your agreement 
with hell, it disannulled. And here you stand, redeemed, 
regenerated, your whole character changed, and your final 
destiny altered, through the influence of the blessed gospel. 
The curse is removed ; you are a child of God, and an heir 
of glory, and shall one day see the King in his beauty : 
a7id the gospel has done it. It has given you peace of 
conscience, joy in the Holy Ghost, a firm hope of heaven, 
and the soul-reviving assurance that all things shall work 
together for your good, till you rise to be where Christ is, 
behold his beauty, and rejoice in his love for ever. 

Now, the question is, whether you will contribute of 
your wealth, to save those who are perishing, as you so 
lately were. I now plead with you by all that religion 
has been worth to you, by all the joys it has brought you, 
by all the woes it has cured, by all the hopes it has raised, 
and by all the transformation it has wrought in your 
character and your condition. For what price would you 
return into the darkened, and dreary, and hopeless con- 
dition in which the gospel found you ? For what would 
you barter away all the delightful prospects that open before 
you, and calculate on no more precious sacramental seasons ; 

no more communion of saints ; no more delightful hours in 
VOL. III. 39 



14 THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

your closet ; nor Pisgah views of the field of promise ; noi 
fellowship with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ ? 
At no price would you part with these. Then how great 
are the blessings which you have it in your power to confer 
on those who are perishing for lack of vision. 

May we be permitted to learn what estimate you put 
upon religion by the pains you take to communicate its 
joys to others ? This is the only rule God has given us. 
Weighed in this balance, how will you appear in the sight 
of God ? Have you foregone the gratification of your taste, 
that you might send salvation to some destitute territory of 
this ruined world ? Have you denied yourself any article 
of luxury, rode in a less splendid carriage, or reclined upon 
a humbler couch, or mounted a plainer staircase, or seated 
yourself at a less costly table, or spent an hour more at 
business, that you might have at command the means of 
doing good, of enlightening the benighted or reclaiming the 
vicious, or of bringing to hope and to heaven the wayward 
and the lost ? Or was no such economy necessary ? Then, 
I ask. Have you allowed God and his kingdom to put in 
their claim along with yours ? When you bought a luxury, 
did you buy a Bible for the poor? When you enlarged 
and beautified your habitation, and added another house or 
another field to your possessions, did you enlarge your 
annual subscription to the benevolent institutions of the age ? 
Did you, when you had paid your thousands for some con- 
veniences, pay a tithe of that sum to enlarge, and beautify, 
and strengthen the kingdom of your Master? Did you feel 
none the less able and the more obligated to do good, because 
God allowed you to make large appropriations for your own 
comfort ? The divine precept is, and it binds every Christian 
conscience, " Do good to all men as you have opportunity, 



THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 15 

but especially to those who are of the household of faith ;" 
and in their obedience to this precept, they show exactly the 
price they put upon piety. Dear as a gospel temper, and 
a gospel hope, and a gospel heaven are to us, proportionably 
high will rise our zeal to generate that temper and that hope 
in every bosom, and prepare for that heaven a whole world 
of benighted and perishing sinners. And as our zeal is, 
such will be the promptitude with which we shall bestow 
our substance to rescue the lost from the perdition that 
awaits them. 

Do you say that they can purchase the privileges of the 
gospel as you have ? No, they will not. They know not 
their value ; and will die in their sins, ere they will give a 
shilling for the light of the gospel. Not the whole of India, 
if it would save them all from hell, would be willing to 
support a single missionary. 

If we persuade them to let our missionaries live in their 
territories, and to refrain from their blood, we shall rejoice. 
If they will allow their children to read the Bible, when we 
have taught them, and supported them while they were 
taught, we shall be happy. If they will hear us when we 
have come on our knees to them, and will be entreated 
when we have worn out our health, and even life, for them, 
it will be all we can expect. But, " how shall they hear 
without a preacher ? and how shall he preach except he be 
sent?" and how can he be sent, unless the wealthy will 
feed him and clothe him ? And if missionaries can be found, 
who will encounter a sultry clime, and die pleading with 
men to be willing to live for ever, need we plead long with 
wealthy believers to induce them to sustain these mission- 
aries ? What then will the world think of us, who march 
up so promptly in every enterprise dear to their hearts ? 



IQ THE TRUE BELIEVER BOUNTIFUL. 

Will God send them the gospel by miracle ? No, he 
once did thus send it to the lost, blessed be his name ! but 
he now commands us to send it to those who are perishing 
for lack of vision. We know our duty, and God will require 
it of us. Can we meet the heathen in the judgment, if we 
have done nothing to promote their salvation ? 

I will plead no longer. But let me tell you, in parting, 
that when you shall see the world on fire, your wealth all 
melting down, and those who have perished through your 
neglect calling upon the " rocks and mountains to fall on 
them, and hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon 
the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb," and shall 
know that you might have been instrumental in saving 
them, there will be strong sensations. If you are saved 
yourself, and you cannot be, if you remain indifferent to 
the salvation of others, you will wish a place to weep over 
your past neglects, before you begin your everlasting song ; 
and if lost yourself, then indeed there will be weeping, and 
wailing, and gnashing of teeth. 

Note. — A premium of fifty dollars, proposed by a generous 
individual, was awarded to the author of this Tract. 



TKo. 103, 



PAY-NIGHT 



A DIALOGUE ON SATURDAY EVENING 



^A 




William. Come, Robert, let's call over across tae com- 
mon, and take a glass of grog. We have done a good 
week's work, and wages are fair now. 

Rohert. No, I am bound for home ; and as for the glass 
of grog, it's what does all the mischief. Think of poor 
Sam's wife and children. A better workman never enter- 
ed the shop ; but he must have his grog, and last week we 
laid the poor fellow in his grave. 

Wm. Yes, yes ; but there's no harm in taking a little to 
refresh one's spirits after a hard day's work. It's only just 
past nine, and we can lie an hour longer in the morning. 

Roh. Ah, it's this taking a little to refresh one's spirits 
that leads on to a little more, and then a little more, till we 
VOL. HI. 39* 



2 PAY-NIGHT. 

are ruined. Just take none at all, and you are safe. Poor 
Sam used to take a little, but he took it oftener and oftener, 
till he had an appetite like a horse-leech. He drank up all 
his wages, and you see how the matter ended. For my part, 
I wish we were paid some other night besides Saturday, and 
a little earlier too. It is more than one can do, at this late 
hour, to get home and be ready for Sunday; besides, many of 
our shopmates squander a great part of their week's wa- 
ges before the day is over. 

Wm. " Ready for Sunday!" I thought Sunday was in- 
tended as a day of rest and recreation. I was just going 
to ask you to join a part}^ and take a sail with us to-mor- 
row ; but I suppose, from what you say about Sunday, that 
it's of no use to ask you. 

Rob. To be sure I should not like to violate and pro- 
fane the Lord's day. 

Wm. Violate and profane the Lord's day ! What ! to take 
a little innocent recreation after slaving hard all the weekj 
do you call this violating and profaning the Lord's day ? 

Rof). I don't know how any one can call it otherwise. 

W7n. 1 should like to hear what mighty reason you can 
give, why a man should not take a little pleasure, only be- 
cause it happens to be on Sunday. 

Rob. Well, then, you must know, first of all, that the Sab- 
bath was intended by the Almighty to be a day of rest and 
cessation from labor. We read that " God blessed the seventh 
day, and hallowed it ; because that in it he had rested from 
all his work." Now what you propose as recreation, is 
harder than any of our work ; and for my part, I have no 
notion of volunteering to row a boat for hours together, like 
a o-allev slave, for the sake of rest and recreation, after work- 
mg hard all the week. It was but yesterday that I read 
in the paper of two parties who were launched into eternity 
while taking their pleasure on the w^ater on Sunday. A bad 
preparation surely for such a change. Besides, you know 
it is not more than three years ago when a party of fifteen 



PAY-NIGHT. O 

young men and women were drowned, and the minister 
of our town preached a most affecting discourse on the evil 
and danger of Sabbath-breaking. He spoke in such a man- 
ner as made the tear trickle down from every eye ; and the 
sighs and sobs of the people sometimes almost stopped him 
in his sermon. I shall not forget it as long as I live. And 
then, such sport cannot be had without money ; and a man 
spends as much in this way on a Sunday, as would keep 
his family half the week ; so he comes home at night whh 
weary bones, a guilty conscience, and an empty pocket into 
the bargain. 

Wm. Well, I see 'tis of no use arguing with you. I 
shall go and see if they have spoken for the boat, and got 
all things ready ; for we mean to start early in the morning. 

Rob. Nay, but stay a minute or two longer, shopmate, for 
I have another reason stronger than all the rest put togeth- 
er ; and that is, 3^ou have the commandments of God against 
you. He has said, " Remember the Sabbath day to keep it 
holy ; six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work ; but the 
seventh is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God :" you may read 
more of it in Exodus, chap. 20. And in another place Jeho- 
vah speaks thus : " Ye shall keep my Sabbath, for it is holy 
unto you ; every one that defileth it shall be put to death." 
And this law was actually put in force among the Israelites. 
While they were in the wilderness, they found a man that 
gathered sticks upon the Sabbath day ; " and the Lord said 
unto Moses, The man shall surely be put to death, and all the 
congregation shall stone him with stones without the camp ; 
and all the congregation brought him without the camp, and 
stoned him with stones, and he died." Num. 15 : 32-16. Well 
might the Apostle say, " It is a fearful thing to fall into the 
hands of the living God." Now as to the manner of keep- 
ing the Sabbath, I will just mention one text of Scripture 
more ; and this, as well as all the rest, is point blank against 
you : " If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath, from do- 
ing thy pleasure on my holy day ; and call the Sabbath a 



4 PAY-NIGHT. 

delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable ; and shalt honor 
him, not doing thine oicn ways, nor finding thine oivn plea- 
sures, nor speaking thine own words, then shalt thou de- 
light thyself in the Lord, and I will cause thee to ride 
upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the 
heritage of Jacob, thy father ; for the mouth of the Lord hath 
spoken it." Isa. 58 : 13, 14. Now, if these reasons are not 
enough to satisfy you, I will add another. 

Wm. Another ! no, no ; I don't want any more reasons. 
But give over this sort of preaching, and say you will go. 
I'll warrant you it will be a fine day, and we shall enjoy it 
well 

Rob. No, William, I cannot go with you, for sure I am 
there is no happiness where the blessing of God is not ; 
much less is happiness to be found in the way of transgres- 
sion: for the Bible says, " The way of transgressors is hard.'' 
But as I dare not spend the Sabbath in your way, let me 
invite you to come and enjoy it with me : 1 will say, as Mo- 
ses of old, " Come thou with us, and we will do thee good ; 
and it shall be, if thou go with us, yea, it shall be that 
what goodness the Lord shall do unto us, the same will we 
do unto thee." 

Wm. 1 begin to think, indeed I have thought so ever since 
my good old mother died, that it is not quite right to neg- 
lect church on Sunday; and I must honestly tell you, I 
have, more than once or twice, had some stings of con- 
science, when, in spite of all my endeavors to forgot it, I 
have thought upon the foolish manner in which 1 have spent 
the past day; and then, on Monday morning, I feel as if 
every thing was wrong about me. I come to work with a 
heavy heart, while you appear as blithe as a lark, and as 
happy as a prince. Tell me, Robert, how is it you pass your 
Sundays ? 

Rob. I'll do that with pleasure ; and if you can produce 
but half as many good reasons against my \vay of spending 
the Sabbath, as I have against yours, then I'll say no more. 



PAY-NIGHT. 5 

Well, then, you must know, that when Saturday evening 
comes 

IVm. Saturday evening ! — Why, shopmate, I asked you 
how you employed the Sunday, and not what you do on 
Saturday. Does your Sunday begin on Saturday ? This is 
making a long Sunday of it, indeed. 

Rob. I always consider Saturday evening as the prepara- 
tion for the Sabbath ; and as to the length of it, it always 
flics too fast for mc — 

" The gladness of that happy day, 

*' My soul would wish it long to stay." 

IVm. Well, then, on Saturday evening — what then-? 

Rob. Why, then my wife and little ones are all as busy 
as if they were getting ready to go to court the next morn- 
ing : indeed, I always count the Sabbath as the grand court- 
day of thci King of kings ; for, as the hymn says — 

" The King himself comes near, 

" And feasts his saints to-day; 
" Here we may sit and see him here, 

" And love, and praise, and pray." 

The children's play-things are all put away — shoes all 
cleaned, their clothes all aired and laid ready for the morn- 
ing, house made tidy, and my wife waiting till T come home 
with my wages : and I must be going soon, else she will be- 
gin to think something has happened. 

W7n. Yes ; I always thought your wife one of a thousand. 
I wish every other man's wife was as good as she is; how- 
ever, I will not complain. 

Rob. ^Vell, then, as 1 said, all things being ready on Sa- 
turday night, we offer up our praises to Almighty God for 
the mercies of the past week, and pray that, with the light 
of the coming day, the light of his countenance may shine 
upon our souls — 



O PAY-NIGHT. 

" Safely through another week, 

" God has brought us on our way ; 
" Let us now a blessing seek 

" On til' ap))roaching Sabbath day — 
" Day of all the Aveek the best, 
*' Emblem of eternal rest." 

Then we go to bed, rest our weary limbs, and always wel- 
come the opening of another Sabbath daj^. 

Wm. Why, this is making the most of a good thing; but 
don't you lie an hour or two longer in the morning, after 
the labor of the week ? 

Rob. As to that, I'll tell you. I rise at my usual hour, 
read the Bible alone, and pray to the Lord that we may 
"begin, continue, and end" the sacred day in the fear of 
God. 

W?)i. I am afraid you have got too much religion for 
me; I shall not much like your way. I always thought if 
I went to church once on a Sundaj^ 1 did my duty quite 
well enough. 

Rob. Too much religion! That is impossible, if a man's 
heart is right. If he has tasted that the Lord is gracious, 
he will be coming to him ; and as a new-born babe, " desire 
the sincere milk of the word, that he may grow thereb3%" 
as the Apostle Peter speaks. Too much religion ! Why, 
relio-ion is happiness ; and you never yet knew any one have 
too much happiness. 

Wm. Well, after the morning prayer and reading the Bi- 
ble, what then ? 

Rob. Why, then I come down, and find the children all 
clean, wife ready Avith the breakfast ; and as soon as that is 
over, we prepare for family worship, which we begin with 
a hvmn; the little ones all join, I set the tunc, and my Sa- 
rah has got a pretty voice. We often begin the Sabbath 
with — 

" Welcome, sweet day of rest, 
" That saw the Lord arise, 
" Welcome to this reviving breastj 
^ " And these rejoicing eyes." 



PAY-NIGHT. 7 

Then we all kneel down and pray for a Sabbath-day's 
blessing-, never forgetting to commend our minister to the 
grace of God ; that he may be aided by the Holy Spirit to 
speak a word in season to him that is weary. 

W7}i. I should think you have had praying and singing 
enough for one day. I should be prayed and sung to death 
with so much religion. 

Rob. Enough ! William ; the best of it is not yet begun. 
There is the public worship of the sanctuary; and, when 
the hour arrives, my heart is ready to cry out with David, 
" I was glad when they said unto me, let us go unto the 
house of the Lord. How amiable are thy tabernacles, O 
Lord of hosts, my King and my God ! A day in thy courts 
is better than a thousand." It would do your heart good to 
see our good minister ; he looks like a man that is plead- 
ing with God on behalf of his people. He looks round 
upon the congregation with so much affection, that you 
would think we were all his own children. He is always 
upon the one grand subject, as he calls it — Jesus Christ, 
and him crucified. This was his first text when he first 
came to us : *' I determined not to know any thing among 
you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified." 1 Cor. 2 : 2. 
And he has kept good his determination ever since. 

Wm. I think I should not much like your minister. Ac- 
cording to your account, he is always harping upon one 
string. 

Roh. Harping upon one string ! Yes, truly ; but it is a 
string on which he plays a thousand delightful tunes. 
Christ and him crucified ! Why, William, this is the music 
of heaven, and no wonder it should gladden the hearts 
of sinners upon earth. I could listen to it forever. Let me 
tell you, William, you and I are sinners, and we stand in 
need of a Savior ; we are great sinners, and we need a great 
Savior : now, just such a Savior is Jesus Christ, as St. Paul 
says — " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the Avorld to save sinners, 



8 PAY NIGHT. 

of whom I am chief." 1 Tim. 1 : 15. It is the blood of Christ 
tliat takes awaj' our sins: it is the righteousness of Christ 
that justifies us before God ; it is the Spirit of Christ that 
makes us holy ; it is the consolation of Christ that gives com- 
fort in affliction : it is the grace of Christ that supports us 
when we come to die ; it is the smile of Christ that gives 
boldness in the day of judgment ; and it is the presence of 
Christ that makes heaven the blessed place it is. In short, 
" Christ is all and in all," as the Apostle has it in an- 
other place. 

W?}i. I confess I never heard so much about Christ be- 
fore. I always thought that if a man did as well as he could, 
he need not concern himself so much about Christ and 
religion. 

Rob. I thought so once, until I heard our good minister 
preach from this text, " For as many as are of the works 
of the law are under the curse; for it is written, Cursed is 
every one that continueth not in all things which are writ- 
ten in the book of the law, to do them." Gal. 3 : 10. I then 
found myself to be a guilty condemned sinner: and saw 
there was salvation only through the atoning blood of Christ . 
I cried to him for mercy ; and he says, " Him that cometh 
unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 

Wm. I think I should like to hear your minister preach; 
but surely you don't think there can be any harm in taking 
a walk into the fields in the afternoon, after going to church 
m the morning. 

Rob. Why as to that — Now suppose you come to the 
shop on Monday morning, and ^vork till twelve o'clock, 
and then go off and lounge about the rest of the day — 
would this be doing your duty to our em.ployer ? Would 
you not justly fall short in your reckoning when Saturday 
night came ? So our blessed Lord says, " No man can 
serve two masters : for either he will hate the one and love 
the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the 
other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." Matt. 6 : 24. 



PAY-NIGHT. 9 

Now I love my Divine Master, and never think I can do 
enough for him. I love his service also; it is "perfect 
freedom." 

Wffi. Well, I think I should like to spend a Surtday with 
you, but I can't to-morrow ; the party is all made up ex- 
cept i/oti ; and as you won't go, we must either get some- 
body else, or go as we are. 

Rob. My dear fellow, let me persuade you not to go ; 
you seem to be somewhat convinced of the evil of Sab- 
bath-breaking, and I am sure you will not be happy. Your 
conscience has often warned and checked you ; and you 
will be sinning against light, and against this friendly cau- 
tion. What if God should take you away with a stroke ; 
you have no security against it, and especially in the way 
of disobedience ; for " he that, being often reproved, har- 
deneth his neck, shall suddenly be destroyed, and that with- 
out remedy." Prov. 29 : 1. 

Wm. Why, you seem to have all the argument on 
your side. Well, if I thought they would not laugh at 
me. and call me a Methodist, I would give it up, and go 
along with you. 

Rob. Laugh at you, and call you a Methodist ! Why let 
them laugh, and let them call. So the gay pleasure-takers 
might have laughed at Noah while he was preparing the 
ark ; but the flood came and drowned them all ; and their 
laughter was turned into bitter crying, when they found 
themselves shut out. This may have been the case, also, 
with the scoffers that dwelt in guilty Sodom ; but the same 
day that Lot left the place, it rained fire and brimstone from 
heaven, and destroyed them aU. 

Wm. Well, I'll consider of it. 

Rob. I hope you will, and may the Holy Spirit inclhie 
you to determine on the side of Christ and your immor- 
tal soul ; this is true wisdom ; and you will find her ways 
'^are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are paths of 
peace." But I must be gcing; I have told you but half the 

VOL. III. 39 



10 PAY-NIGHT. 

delightful work of the Sabhath-day ; come, and prove the 
rest. I will only just say, the other half of the day becomes 
sweeter and sweeter, as one enters into the spirit of it : and 
I sometimes think, if there is so much comfort in the wor- 
ship of God on earth, then what must heaven be! 

*' O the delights, the heavenly joys, 

" The transports of the place, 
** Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams 

" Of his o'erflowing grace T' 

Now, compare your way of spending the Sabbath with 
mine, and let any man of common sense be the judge, and 
I'll venture to say he will give it in my favor. You come 
home, half worn out with recreation, as you call it — money 
all spent — wife perhaps out of humor — the children cross 
and sleepy — and when you lie down at night, you cannot 
ask God's blessing on the past day, but are obliged to skulk 
to bed like a thief that is afraid of being taken before his 
judge. But in my way of spending the Sabbath, our bodies 
are rested from the toils of the past week, our spirits are 
refreshed by the blessing of God ; it makes rich, and adds 
no sorrow therewith ; and we can lie down at night witli a 
cheerful heart, expressing our gratitude to our Heavenly 
Father in devout adoration and songs of praise. 

•' Come, bless the Lord, whose love assigns 

•' So sweet a rest to wearied minds ; 

" Provides an antepast of heaven, 

*' And gives this day the food of seven. 

•' O that oar thoughts and thanks may rise 
*' As grateful incense to the skies ; 
" And draw from heaven thai sweet repose, 
" Which none, but he that feels it, knows. 

" This heavenly calm within the breast, 
" Is the dear pledge of glorious rest, 
" Which for the church of God remains, 
" The end of cares, the end of pe.ins. 



EVILS OF PROFANING THE SABBATH. 11 

" In holy duties let the day 

" In holy pleasures pass away ; 

" How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend, 

" In hope of one that ne'er shall end 1" 



EVILS OF PROFANING THE SABBATH. 

1. It dishonors God. He has appointed the Sabbath, and 
commanded men to keep it holy. To profane it by worldJy 
business, amusement, or in any other way, is disobedience 
to God ; and is greatly to his dishonor. 

2. It ensures his wrath. The Sabbath is God's day, he 
requires it to be set apart for himself If men profane it, God 
is angry, and will visit them with his curse. They will be 
cursed in the city and in the field, in their basket and in 
their store ; in their going out and in their coming in. 

3. It is dangerous. Not unfrequently are persons called 
into eternity in the very act of transgression, to appear be- 
fore God, where there is no more space for repentance. 

4. To profane the Sabbath exposes a man to the loss of his 
soul. This is an evil, great beyond description. For what 
can a man give in exchange for his soul ? A man may lose 
his property, his reputation, his health, and even his life, 
and yet be happy : but if he lose his soul, he must be eter- 
nally WTetched. To profane the Sabbath, then, is a tremen- 
dous evil. If continued, it will shut the soul out of heaven, 
and sink it into everlasting darkness and despair. 

5. The person who profanes the Sabbath, does much, by 
his example, to destroy the souls of others. One such sin- 
ner destroys much good. He will lead all those who follow 
him, down to the pit of wo. 

Reader, remember the Sabbath-day, and keep it holy. 
If sinners entice you to profane it, consent not: for if you 
do profane it, you will dishonor God. you will incur his 



\'i OBSERVANCE OF THE LORd's DAY. 

wrath. Y'ou will be in danger of immediate judgments. 
You will expose your own soul to destruction ; and you 
will do much to destroy the souls of others. 



directions for the observance of the 
lord's day. 

1. Order all your weekly business so wisely beforehand, 
that you may have no unnecessary work on God's day ; 
that your hands may be as free as possible from business, 
and your head from worldly cares and thoughts. 

2. Think seriously: what a weighty work am I going 
about ! My Aveek affairs are but toys and trifles to this. 
What are sheep and oxen, or shops and goods, to grace, 
Christ, and heaven ? Can I be too careful and serious in 
Ciod's work? in the work of salvation? Surely no. How 
holy should my thoughts be,' how heavenly my discourse, 
how earnest my endeavors all the day long ! 

3. Therefore prepare with all your mi^ht ; search your 
heart and life : find out 

What your sins are^ to confess, mourn over, and pray 
against. 

What the mercies are you want for soul or body ; for 
your friends, family, and nation. 

What blessings you have received, and what thanks 
should be returned. 



I¥o. 103. 
ETERY MAN 

THE 

FRIEND OR THE ENEMY OF CHRIST. 



In some contests, they who are immediately concerned, 
are at liberty, or rather, it is their duty, to take neither part, 
because the thing contended for is indifferent in itself, or 
because both sides are in the wrong. There are others, 
wherein every man is obliged to favor, at least, if not to join 
himself to one of the parties engaged, because one of them 
is evidently in the right ; and no man is allowed to be un- 
interested, when the cause of truth, justice, or virtue is 
involved. In the cause of religious truth, every man is a 
party, and his happiness is inseparably connected, not only 
with his thinking right, but in some measure also with his 
endeavoring to make others do the same. Happiness is the 
effect of true religion. 

What, then, is it to he for Christ, and what to be against 
him? A man cannot be truly said to he for Christ, who 
only bears his name, and declares for him ; since the Scrip- 
tures assure us, that not only they are against Christ who 
deny him before men in words, but they also " who profess 
that they know, but in works deny him, being abominable, 
and disobedient, and unto every good work reprobate;" of 
whom St. Paul tells us, " even weeping, that they are the 
enemies of the cross of Christ." 

Who, then, are /or hi?n ? They, no doubt, of whom he 
says to the Father, " I have given unto them the words that 
thou gavest me; and they have received them, and have 
known surely that I came out from thee ; and they have be- 
lieved that thou didst send me. Thine they were, and thou 
gavest them me, and they have kept my word." "They 
that are Christ's," says St. Paul, " have crucified the flesh, 
with the affections and lusts." 

But are there not a third or middle sort of men, who, in 

the strictness of these expressions, are neither for our Saviour, 

nor against him ? No ! Christ, who best knows his own, 

absolutely denies this. It is true, of good men some are 

VOL. III. 39* 



2 EVERY MAN THE FRIEND 

better, and of bad men some are worse than others. The 
good are not all equally the friends, nor the wicked all 
equally the enemies of Christ ; and for these inequalities 
ditferent degrees of reward and punishment are reserved in 
the determination of our Judge. It is also true, that the best 
of men sometimes fall into sin, and the worst sometimes 
perform good external acts. But then he, who is to pass 
sentence on us, knows perfectly where frailty ends and pre- 
sumption and perverseness begin ; knows who in heart and 
life is a good, and who a bad man, that is, who is on his part, 
and who against him. 

Thus it appears, that, from the throne of God down to 
the nethermost hell, there is not, there cannot be, one moral 
being, who is not either the friend, or the enemy of Christ. In 
the one or other of these lights Christ must regard every man, 
and every man must regard himself, at the final judgment. 
On that great day, the Judge will pronounce but two sen- 
tences : to the good, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the 
world ;" and to the wicked, " Depart from me, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." 
At that day, there will be no man fomid, who will not trem- 
ble under the one, or triumph in the other of these sentences : 
none who will not be a fit object of either. Here is no middle 
judgment between come and depart, nor a middle region be- 
tween heaven and hell, for the reception of him who is neither 
called as a friend, nor rejected as an enemy to' Christ. 

Are you, my friend, the enemy of Christ ? If you are 
on Christ's part, what passion have you subdued, what appe- 
tite denied, what view of temporal profit or honor, though 
ever so inconsiderable, have you set aside, to please him ? 
Or rather, what sense of his goodness, and your past ingrati- 
tude, do you even now feel, to prove to you that you are not 
wholly indifferent about him, his religion, or your place 
among his followers ? You may " honor him with your 
lips;" but if your "heart is far from him," full well he 
knows it, for he is a searcher of hearts, and clearly sees 
where all the ardor of yours is placed, while he hath only 
the worthless compliment of your professions. This you 
may be experimentally convinced of, by an impartial con- 
sideration of your prayers, your faith, and the general tenor 
of vour whole life. 



OR THE ENEMY OF CHRIST. 3 

Your -prayers are seldom offered up to the absolute Dis- 
poser of all things ; and offered with such an unaccountable 
coldness of heart, as testifies no affection, scarcely indeed a 
bare dependence. 

Your faith, for want of a thorough conviction, or that 
close attention which the great things it sets before you 
demand, amounts to little more than a mere opinion as to 
the facts suggested in your creed. Such an opinion is too 
weak to have any material effect on your practice, too feeble 
to bring futurity into competition with the present objects of 
sense and appetite. Indeed, in so great a degree of dimness 
and confusion does the eye of your faith view things to come, 
that heaven hardly looks like happiness, or hell like misery, 
or either like a reality. 

How unlike is your faith to that of a real Christian ! His 
faith draws his very senses into its service. He believes, 
and therefore hears God speaking in his word ; feels God 
moving in his heart ; sees the judgment-seat of Christ, with 
the glories of heaven, and the horrors of iiell, almost as 
clearly as if they were displayed before his eyes. Nay, 
he suffers the anguish of his Saviour's wounds in some de- 
gree as if the nails and spear had pierced his own flesh ; 
and triumphs over sin and death in the resurrection of Christ, 
with a high degree of that joy he hopes to feel when he shall 
arise from the grave himself. 

As to the general tenor of yovr Ife, an insensible stu- 
pidity damps and flattens all you think, or do, in relation to 
religion. Here you know nothing ! Here you feel nothing ! 
But, in regard to this world, you are all alive. How deep- 
ly read is your understanding here ! How warmly engaged 
is your heart ! And for the truth of these observations, I ap- 
peal to your own breast. 

You are ready, it may be, to declare, with an affected 
humility, that it is the height of your ambition, in religious 
matters, to be an ordinary or middling Christian. Let others, 
you say, set up for singularity in holiness; for your part, 
you wish to be found even among the lowest class of Chris- 
tians, and aspire only to a bare acquittal. And yet you 
want not your share of ambition and pride too. Misguided 
man. How miserably you mistake that for humility, which 
is but lukewarmness and indifference ! But where is the 
humility of vilifying that religious warmth in others, which 



4 IVERT MAN THE FRIEND, ETC. 

you never felt ? Know, unhappy man, that there is, there 
can be, no such mortal as a middling Christian. Neither 
the exalted joys promised, nor the shocking torments threat- 
ened, will sulfer a thinking mind to be indilTerent. 

If your eyes are now open, look about you, and tell us 
where you are: surely not with Christ, but against him; 
with reprobates and wicked spirits, who, in their lusts, and 
in the pride of their hearts, have preferred rebellion to grati- 
tude, infamy to glory, and hell to heaven. 

Reflect feelingly on what Christ hath done for you, and 
as impartially on what you have done to him ; and then see 
your ingratitude. He, the Son of God, hath died to save you, 
a poor, unworthy criminal, from endless infamy and misery : 
think how great that infamy and misery ! and to bring you 
to endless glory and happiness : consider how high that glory ! 
how infinite that happiness ! How coolly you return this love, 
by your formal professions, your dry thanksgivings, your un- 
willing services, through which scarcely any footsteps of 
either your understanding or affections are to be traced. 
On the other side are found all your positive sins ; your vile 
thoughts ; your false, profane, or seducing discourse ; all 
imagined, uttered, committed directly against him who died 
for you. 

Know, mistaken man, that you are in a state of rebellion 
against the Sovereign of the world, and at war with the Al- 
mighty. If your forces are sufficient to maintain this war, 
and your armor proof against this two-edged sword, go on ; 
but no longer say you are a Christian. There is not less 
sense, and more consistency, in directly contending with 
God, than in pretending to be his servant, and yet fighting 
against him. 

Your case, then, will not admit a moment's delay ; nei- 
ther is there any medium between being " for Christ, and 
against him." Salvation is found only in being for him, 
condemnation only in being against him. Awake, consider 
this, ere it is too late, and choose your side ; but consider 

IT WITH YOUR WHOLE UNDERSTANDING, AND CHOOSE WITH 

YOUR WHOLE HEART ; FOR REMEMBER YOU CHOOSE FOR ALL 

ETERNITY 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Ko. 104. 

USEFULNESS OF TRACTS 




'M^ American Tract Society 

was formed in the city of 

New York, May, 1825, by 

a Convention of Delegates 

from Tract Societies and 

friends of religion, of several 

evangelical denominations, 

and from different parts of 

the country.* Its sole object is to promote the great design 

of the Saviour's mediation and death, by diffusing the truths 

and doctrines of his gospel. It was founded in prayer, and 

* The Publishing Committee of this Society embraces no two mem- 
bers from the same denomination, and no Tract is published unless unan- 
imously approved. All the other concerns of the Society are conducted 
under the direction of an Executive Committee, elected annually by the 
Board. The labors of all the Society's Committees, and of its President 
and Treasurer, are performed without any pecuniary compensation. 



2 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

dependence on the blessing of the Holy Spirit ; and the facts 
related in the following pages, of the authenticity of which the 
Committee have the most satisfactory evidence, will show to 
some extent how richly that blessing has been bestowed, to 
the praise and glory of divine grace. 

The large public meeting, at which the Society was 
formed, was one of deep solemnity. The last words which 
the lamented Rev. John Summerfield ever addressed to a 
public audience, were delivered at the close of that meeting. 
" In all the anniversaries," said he, " which I have ever 
attended, in Europe or America, I have never been so con- 
scious of the presence of the Holy Spirit and Christian love 
pervading every heart. Again and again I could not refrain 
from weeping. The very atmosphere we breathe is the 
atmosphere of heaven ; one which angels come down to 
inhale, and in w^hich God himself delights to dwell." 

At the Society's first anniversary, its character, design, and 
the evidences of the divine approbation upon its work, were 
presented as follows, in an Address of Rev. Justin Edwards, 
D. D., one of the members of the Publishing Committee. 

The object of this Society is to deliver immortal souls 
from a course of eternal sinning: and eternal suffering ; to 
transform them into the perfect image of God, and raise 
them to a state of eternal holiness and bliss in heaven. 

The means by which we are to accomplish this, is the 
dissemination of the truths which God has revealed, in the 
form of interesting and impressive religious Tracts. I say, 
tlie truths which God has revealed ; for no other truths will 
accomplish this glorious end : such truths, for instance, as 
the utterly lost condition of sinners, and their indispensable 
duty, without delay, to love God with all their heart, and 
soul, and strength, and mind ; the necessity of being born 
again, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the 
will of man, but of God ; the infinite dignity, divine beauty, 
excellence and glory of Him on whom their help is laid ; 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 8 

his amazing condescension in becoming a servant, and 
having not where to lay his head ; his unparalleled kind- 
ness in bearing their sins in his own body on the tree, and 
having laid on him the iniquity of them all ; the necessity 
of believing on him in order to be interested in the blessings 
of his salvation ; that every person to whom he is made 
known is under immediate obligation to embrace him, 
repent of sin, and live not unto himself, but unto him that 
died for sinners and rose again ; that a day is coming when 
" all that are in their graves shall hear his voice, and shall 
come forth ; they that have done good unto the resurrection 
of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of 
damnation ;" that the wicked will go away into eternal 
punishment, and the righteous into eternal life. These are 
the truths, with kindred truths, in their divinely inspired 
aspect and connection, stamped in bold relief on the face of 
religious Tracts, and extended to every city, and town, and 
village, and family, and soul ; by which this Society is to 
aid in renovating a world, and preparing a " multitude that 
no man can number," to shine in the beauty of holiness, and 
shout the triumphs of grace to everlasting ages. 

These are the truths which were proclaimed on the 
hills and in the vales of Judea ; by which the fishermen 
of Galilee, and men of like spirit, went out, and unarmed, in 
the face of an opposing world, planted the standard of the 
cross on the throne of the Caesars. These are the truths 
which blazed at the Reformation, scattered the darkness of 
papal midnight, and kindled a light that will " grow brighter 
and brighter, even to the perfect day." These truths, as 
they go forth, " proclaiming deliverance to captives, the 
opening of the prison to them that are bound," and pointing 
them to " the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the 
world," will cause tears of contrition to drop down from ten 
thousand eyes, and ten thousand hearts to pour forth their 
strains of gratitude in hallelujahs to the Redeemer. 



4 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

These truths it is our duty to extend, not merely because 
we have associated for this purpose, but because God has 
revealed them, and commanded us to extend them to every 
creature. And, if I do not mistake, sir, there are some 
peculiar reasons why we, in this country, should extend 
them by means of religious Tracts. 

We are a great people, and, if not blasted by our sins, 
shall become greater and greater, till the light of revealed 
truth, and the light of human science, the light of true 
religion, and the light of civil and religious freedom, shall 
blaze from one end of this continent to the other, and with a 
brightness that shall illumine the world. We are called by 
the God of heaven to make an experiment ; and one of the 
most momentous that was ever intrusted to mortals. 

Blessed with a country of almost unparalleled extent ; 
settled by a people of invincible energy, of ceaseless action,' 
and untiring perseverance ; enjoying civil and religious 
liberty to a greater extent than any other people on the 
globe ; holding property of every description, and to any 
amount, in pure fee-simple, with the strongest motives bear- 
ing upon the mass of minds, to the highest possible effort, 
we must make a development of character, such as creation 
never witnessed ; and rise to a height of goodness and great- 
ness, from which we shall be the benefactors of the world, 
and instruments in bearing its millions to glory, or from 
which we shall sink, under a load of guilt, such as earth 
never bore, to endless perdition. Ah, then there would be 
shouting through all the world of darkness, and among all 
the sons of darkness, through the universe ; ages of darkness, 
which the gospel has heaved away, would roll backward, 
and cover millions and millions in deep and everlasting 
gloom. 

And are we in no danger of this ? We are a republic ; 
with no government but that which rests on the will of the 
people ; and which caimot be perpetuated without holiness 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. c 

among the people. Some may say, it cannot without puhlic 
virtue. But public virtue never did exist, sufficient to per- 
petuate a republican government over such an extent of 
country as ours, without holiness, and it never will. This 
holiness is not the natural growth of a single heart in the 
land. No means will produce it, but the means of God's 
appointment. Of these means a vast portion of our country- 
men are now destitute. Millions and millions, increasing 
every day, are destitute of that influence which is so essen- 
tial to the preservation of all our social, civil, and religious 
blessings. Nor is this all : but each individual of these 
millions has a soul worth a thousand worlds. And without 
holiness they had better had no existence ; for they will 
spend it in weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth. 
While 1 speak it, I see them borne onward towards the close 
of their probation, destitute of that holiness without which no 
one can see the Lord, and destitute of the means of holiness 
which God has appointed. 

What, then, shall be done ? Send them living preach- 
ers ? You have not got them. Thousands, with the ardor 
of Paul, with the eloquence and might in the Scriptures of 
ApoUos, are needed to-day, in order fully to supply this 
country. Do you say, "Encourage Education Societies, 
and train up pious young men for the ministry ?" By all 
means. Let these efforts be vastly increased, and prose- 
cuted with all possible vigor, and generation after genera- 
tion will pass away before they can all have the regular and 
stated ministrations of the Gospel. Do you say, " Send 
them the Bible ?" By all means. Let eflx^rts to extend it 
be increased and increased, till there shall not be a family, 
from one end of the land to the other, that has not the sacred 
volume. But then multitudes will not read it ; and multi- 
tudes more will act directly against its holy dictates. 

What, then, shall be done ? Take the truths of the Bible, 
and, in " thoughts that breatiie, and words that burn," stamp 

VOL. III. -|<» 



g USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

them on the pages of religious Tracts ; muUiply these Tracts 
by thousands and millions; send them forth, attended, in 
answer to prayer, by the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, 
to every city, and town, and neighborhood, and family, till all 
shall see Him who was rich, for their sakes becoming poor, 
that they, through his poverty, might be rich. And as they 
see him " bearing their sins in his own body on the tree," 
and hear him cry, " My God, my God, why hast thou for- 
saken me ?" and the sun shrinks away, the rocks break 
asunder, and the dead start from their graves, there will be 
mourning ; yes, there will be a very great mourning, and 
there will be a great turning unto the Lord our God. 

Does any one say that many parts of the land have the 
Gospel, and therefore it is not needful to send Tracts to 
them 1 A town in the very centre of one of the most favored 
states in the Union had the Gospel ; they had a minister of 
Christ ; but, like many of his brethren, he was ready to 
say, " I have labored in vain, and spent my strength for 
nought," till he obtained a religious Tract, and under the 
reading of that, eigTit persons were convinced of sin, and 
found no rest till, as it is hoped, they embraced the Saviour ; 
and when he who was watching for their souls related this 
account, they were all members of the church, and adorn- 
ing their profession by a godly example. 

Another town had the Gospel. Sermon after sermon 
was preached, but passed away unheeded, till a religious 
Tract was read, when a revival of religion commenced, 
which issued in the hopeful conversion of more than forty 
persons. 

Another town had the Gospel, and the ordinary means 
of grace; but the people grew stupid, and still more stupid, 
till a Tract was read, and no less than twelve persons were 
made to feel that, " without holiness," they could not " see 
the Lord ;" and they obtained no rest till, as they hope, they 
became the sincere followers of Christ. Others became 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. ^ 

alarmed, the conviction spread to others, and to others, till 
it issued in the hopeful conversion of more than one hundred 
persons. 

Ministers of the Gospel, whose praise is in all the 
churches, have testified, that they have often found the 
distribution of Tracts, apparently, as useful as all their other 
labors. A president of one of our distinguished colleges 
informed me, that, during a revival of religion in college, 
religious Tracts were circulated among the students, which 
were read with great eagerness, and with the most manifest 
advantage. 

Are not, then. Tracts needful for such places ? Yes, for 
all places. A man in the habit of distributing them among 
those who have not the Gospel, once called at a cottage on 
the side of a mountain, and, as usual, asked the inmates if 
they loved the Lord Jesus Christ. " O yes," the woman 
replied, " he is precious to my soul, altogether lovely." He 
asked her what were the means of leading her to Christ. 
" A man," said she, " once left here a small Tract. When 
he was gone, my child read it aloud, and it made me feel as 
if I was lost for ever." Her impressions deepened and deep- 
ened, till she discovered the way of salvation through a cru- 
cified Redeemer, hopefully embraced him, and found rest to 
her soul. Her husband, too, said, " He gave me a Tract, 
and since then I hope the Lord has showed mercy to my 
soul." " O," said the woman, " that I could see that man 
again." " Well," said the man, " I am he." 

Another man who had been in the habit of distributing 
Bibles and Tracts among the destitute, was afterwards in- 
formed by letter, that more than thirty individuals in one 
town, besides the writer of the letter and his wife, were all 
now rejoicing in hope, through his instrumentality. 

I know the man, sir, who has had evidence of more than 
one hopeful conversion from a Tract, in a family which had 
not the Gospel, and had never seen a Bible. Tracts are 



g USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

useful everywhere, and we must send them to every family 
throughout the country. 

Does any one say, " This is impossible ?" No ; it is 
not impossible. A single individual has been known to cir- 
culate 70,000 Tracts in a year. Suppose that each went 
into a family, and was read by three persons besides him 
who received it ; this single individual may have been the 
means, through the instrumentality of Tracts, of preaching 
the unsearchable riches of Christ to 280,000 souls. Let 
this be continued for ten years, and this single individual 
might speak to 2,800,000, and tell them words by which 
they and those around them may be saved. 

This Society may, with the blessing of God, establish 
Depositories in every county of every state in the Union, 
form Auxiliary Societies around every Depository, and 
soon put in circulation 12,000,000 of Tracts, equal to one 
for every man, woman, and child, in the country ; and if, 
in this distant world, and while looking through a glass 
darkly, we may see distinctly the reading of one Tract 
connected with the hopeful conversion of eight persons, and 
another of forty, and another of one hundred, what may we 
not hope to see, in the light of eternity, from the reading of 
12,000,000, which this Society in a few years may put in 
circulation. An amazing price, sir, is put into the hands 
of this Society, and if improved. Mill, through grace, be 
instrumental in preparing multitudes for glory. 

" No doubt," says one, "they may be exceedingly use- 
ful ; but to circulate so many will cost too ?nuch.'' How 
much, then, will it cost? $10,000 will put in circulation 
1,000,000 Tracts, or of Tracts of four pages, nearly 2,500,- 
000 ; equal to one for every family in the country. And 
if the expense were borne by every family, it would be for 
each not more than one half-cent in a year ; and the avails 
of these, if sold at cost, may put in circulation as many 
more, and the avails of those as many more, and so on, down 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. g 

to the end of the world. Is this too much for the purpose 
of putting in circulation 2,500,000 Tracts ; 6,000 of which 
may be furnished for 820, and one of which has, in more 
than twenty cases, been the means of the hopeful conversion 
of a soul worth a million of worlds ? Ten times this sum 
has been expended, in this country, upon a single horse- 
race ! A million of dollars can be raised in a single city, 
or town, at almost any time, for a single manufactory ! 
$7,000,000 can be raised, in a single state, for a canal ! 

" This," says one, " is a great and noble object. It pro- 
motes improvements, opens communications, and facilitates 
intercourse between one part of the country and another." 
I acknowledge it is a great and noble object. And is there 
nothing great, nothing noble, in the everlasting improvement 
of 12,000,000 minds? in showing a path, and facilitating 
their progress on their way to glory, and onward, from glory 
to glory, to everlasting ages ? More than 3,000 times what 
it would cost to put in circulation, annually, a million of 
Tracts, is expended in this country, every year, for a single 
article, not of living, but of dying ; an article which costs 
the country annually, 30,000 lives, and renders utterly 
wretched 200,000 more. Let us not hesitate a moment 
about the expense of putting in circulation annually a few 
millions of Tracts ; but raise the money, and expend it most 
cheerfully for the Lord of hosts. 

But can the money be raised? I answer, it can. I 
know the individual who once asked a poor man if he 
would not give something to make his minister a life mem- 
ber of the Tract Society ; and he answered, " Yes, I will 
give a dollar ; for one of those Tracts has saved me from 
ruin." 

I know the individual who has worked for one dollar a 

week, and worked hard too, for nearly twenty years, who, 

on hearing the effects of a Tract, said, without being asked, 

I will give $20 to print it, and to keep it in perpetual cir- 

VOL. III. 40* 



10 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

culation ; for I have no doubt that it has been the means of 
saving multitudes. 

I know the individual who, when asked by an agent of 
the Tract Society to give something, said, " Who sent you 
here ?" he answered, " The Lord, I trust." " Well," said 
the person, '• I believe he did : for I have had 820 laid up 
a long time for the Tract Society, and have been waiting 
for some one to come and take it." 

Money can he raised; and the country can never be 
considered as supplied till half the families have a single 
copy of at least half the Tracts. And it would be exceed- 
ingly useful, if every family of children could have access 
to a set of the whole. No books, except the Bible, would 
be more likely to promote their salvation. I know the man 
who, when a boy, had access to a set of Tracts, and became 
interested in reading them, and impressions were fastened 
upon his mind that will never be effaced ; and the effect 
of his conversion is already felt through this land. 

I know a man who, when a boy, had access to similar 
Tracts, v/hose mind was arrested, whose heart was softened, 
and hopefully renewed, through their instrumentality ; and, 
I was going to say, all Africa will one day bless God for 
his conversion. But I see him rise upward, leaving this 
revolted world and taking possession of that " rest which 
remains for the people of God." Lately, he was here. I 
saw him go from place to place, pleading the cause of 
Africa, taking her sons and her daughters, and gathering 
them into a church of Christ. I saw the big tear trickle 
down their sable cheeks as they experienced his kindness ; 
I saw him collect the furniture of their communion-table, 
gather for them a church library, obtain a printing-press, 
and go, with his little flock, embracing all the elements of 
a civilized and Christian community, and plant them, with 
their brethren, in the land of their fathers. I heard Africa 
begin to sing — when the Lord had need of him, and he 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. H 

winged his way to glory. But his mantle will fall, his 
prayers be answered, and all Africa will yet bless God for 
his conversion. 

I know the man, sir, who, when a boy, through the 
kindness of a relative, had access to a parcel of Tracts ; 
the very same which you are now publishing and circulat- 
ing ; and he was led to think of the kindness of Christ, to 
feel his obligations to him, and resolve, in his strength, that 
he would henceforward " live, not unto himself, but unto 
him that died for him and rose again." And he has ever 
since been experiencing that "it is more blessed to give 
than to receive." Numerous destitute settlements, all along 
our frontiers, the savages in our Western wilderness, the 
pagans in the islands of the seas, and throughout Asia, will 
one day bless God for his conversion. 

And we must do vastly more than merely to supply our 
own country. The Canadas, Mexico, and all South Amer- 
ica, are calling upon us to help them ; many are now able 
to read among our Western Indians, thousands at the 
Sandwich Islands, and more than 10,000,000 in countries 
around the Mediterranean. Said a gentleman who visited 
those countries, to men who, before he left home, had fur- 
nished him with Tracts for distribution, " I thank you, 
gentlemen, a thousand times, for the Tracts. I had been 
told that it was of no use to think of offering Tracts to Ital- 
ians, Greeks, Portuguese, and Spaniards ; they would not 
read them. But, gentlemen, I know better. You have no 
idea how welcome the Tracts were in all the ports at which 
we touched, around the Mediterranean. The people ran 
after me in the streets, and pulled me into their houses, 
in order to obtain them ; and that, too, after I had distrib- 
uted all that I had. I could hardly pacify them, but by 
telling them that when I came again I would bring them 
more." 

Printing-presses are now in operation ni connection with 



12 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

the American mission at Malta. Give them the means, 
and Tracts, as cheap as they can be furnished in this coun- 
try, may be printed in Greek, and Italian, and French, and 
Arabic, and Armenian, and extended to 10,000,000 people, 
multitudes of whom are almost entirely destitute of the 
means of grace. $1,000 may put in circulation 100,000 
Tracts. Here, then, is a way in which men may, from 
love to Christ and to souls, through the medium of this So- 
ciety, employ property in a manner which, while it does 
not make them poor, will make many rich, and secure an 
inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not 
away. 

Thousands and thousands are now perishing, for the 
want of Tracts, on the Island of Ceylon. " We visit," said 
a missionary, " from two to eight families in a day ; some- 
times we take long journeys, and are out six or eight days. 
At such times we take a number of boys from the schools, 
and we exceedingly need Tracts. As we pass from village 
to village, where the Gospel was never preached, we find 
hundreds who can, and would read, had we Bibles or 
Tracts to give them ; but, alas ! we have none : no Bible, 
no Tract to show the poor heathen how to flee from the 
wrath to come. Oh, that we could get a supply printed. 
Into how many villages might the Gospel be sent by means 
of Tracts : and how many souls, by a single Tract, might 
be saved from endless misery." 

And shall the missionary who has left his father's 
house, his native land, and gone 13,000 miles to tell the 
dying pagans of a Saviour, cry in the ears of a thousand 
churches, abounding in wealth, " Oh, that we could get a 
supply of Tracts printed. Into how many villages might 
the Gospel be sent by means of Tracts, and how many 
souls might be saved by a single Tract from endless 
misery " — and yet cry in vain ? Let those churches 
answer. 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. J 3 

At Bombay is a printing-press, in the midst of a popu- 
lation, speaking the same tongue, of 11,000,000 of people; 
nearly all of whom are destitute of the Gospel, and among 
whom Tracts might be circulated to the utmost advantage. 
A strong feeling of doubt and uncertainty exists in the 
minds of multitudes throughout that country with regard 
to their own religion. Numbers have come to the con- 
clusion that it is false. Multitudes are halting between 
two opinions, and all are becomiing impressed with the ex- 
pectation that a great change is approaching. In this state, 
they greatly need Tracts, and many strongly desire them. 
Individuals have come twenty miles, and in some cases 
thirty and forty miles, to obtain a Tract. And, writes a 
missionary, " Tracts may be printed at Bombay as cheap 
as in America ; and in no part of the world can they be 
distributed to greater advantage. Many of the people would 
be likely to receive more instruction from a little Tract, 
which they could read in five minutes, than from the whole 
of the New Testament ; because they would be so much 
more likely to read it." 

Writes another missionary, " The distribution of Tracts 
is the only possible way in which we can exhibit any por- 
tion of the Gospel to vast multitudes of the present genera- 
tion of India. Ministers enough to go and preach to them 
the Gospel, cannot be obtained. We must print and cir- 
culate Tracts, or millions and millions of the present and 
future generations must go down without the Gospel, in un- 
broken succession, to the grave." 

And these millions, Mr. President, exceedingly need 
Tracts ; for they are exceedingly wretched, even for this 
life. A man who has resided among them twenty years, 
for the purpose of investigating their spiritual condition, 
told me that he knew of a numerous class with whom it 
was an article of religion not to suffer a single female 
child to live. One of them, however, on the birth of a 



14 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

daughter, being overcome by natural affection, resolved to 
preserve her life. He secreted her, and intended, unknown 
to his countrymen, to preserve her to mature years. He 
succeeded without its being known, till she was, I think, 
seven years old. Then it became known that he had in 
his house a daughter. And being abroad one day, he was 
so overcome with the scoffs of his countrymen, and with 
the obloquy which they cast upon him, that he returned, 
and with an axe hewed her in pieces. 

And not only are they miserable in this life, but in 
death. A Hindoo of a thoughtful, reflecting turn of mind, 
but devoted to idolatry, lay on his death-bed. As he saw 
himself about to plunge into that boundless unknown, he 
cried out, "What will become of me?" "O," said a 
Brahmin who stood by, " you will inhabit another body." 
'•'And where," said he, " shall I go then?" "Into an- 
other." " And where then V " Into another, and so on, 
throu2;h thousands of millions." Dartina; across this whole 
period, as though it were but an instant, he cried, "Where 
shall I go then?" And paganism could not answer. And 
he died, agonizing under the inquiry, " Where shall I go 
last of all?" 

Another Hindoo lay on his death-bed; he, however, 
had seen a religious Tract, and had read it. It had led 
liim to religious teachers, and to Christ. His friend, hear- 
ing of his sici<ness, came to see him, and found him in the 
last stage of disease ; and as he bore up liis languishing 
head, watching to see him breathe his last, the dying man 
broke out in ecstasy, " Sing, brother, sing." " What," 
said he, "shall I sing?" "Salvation," said he; "salva- 
tion, by the death of Jesus" — and winged his way to bow 
with ransomed millions before the throne. 

Let us send Tracts to those sinners, and all other sin- 
ners on the globe : Tracts blazing with the effulgence of the 
truths which God has revealed, in the aspect and connection 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 15 

in which he has revealed them, and attended, in answer to 
the prayers of God's people, by the Holy Ghost sent down 
from heaven ; and multitudes out of every nation, and kin- 
dred, and people, and tongue, will assemble on Mount Zion, 
and open an everlasting anthem " unto him that loved us, 
and washed us from our sins in his blood;" and every holy 
creature in the universe will cry, " Unto him be glory for 
ever and ever." 



INFLUENCE OF TRACTS UPON INFIDELS. 

As a respectable physician, who had long been an 
avowed infidel, was reading the Tract entitled The Praying 
Negro, he was led to reflect that he possessed a very differ- 
ent temper from that there exhibited. When he was injured, 
he was disposed to seek revenge ; but ihmplous -person, when 
injured, found relief in prayer to God. This produced a 
conviction of his sinfulness, guilt, and danger. He saw no 
hope of salvation by his own works ; but felt himself a lost 
sinner. What then could he do, but look to that Saviour 
whom he had so long rejected as not worthy his regard. 
By faith in him, he obtained peace and comfort. He then 
collected his deistical books at home, and those which he had 
lent to his neighbors, and committed them to the flames. He 
found the Bible infinitely better. Recollecting one night 
that one of these books was lent to his minister, he knew not 
how to sleep till it was burned ; but as the night was dark 
and stormy he concluded to wait till morning. Then neither 
the severity of the storm, nor the infirmities of his age, pre- 
vented the execution of his purpose. When he asked for 
the book, the minister was fearful that he might still doubt 
the truth and inspiration of the Scriptures, and so wish to 
read this book again. This had been his favorite author. 
But no sooner was it returned, than, with much emphasis, he 
said, " In the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ and these 



16 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

witnesses, I now solemnly renounce all the errors contained 
in this book." He then cast it into the fire. He since 
warns, with much affection and faithfulness, those whom he 
had before led astray, and entreats them to renounce their 
errors and embrace the Saviour. His exertions are not in 
vain, Christians are animated, and sinners alarmed. 



AN EMINENT LAWYER IN ALABAMA. 

A volume of Tracts was presented in a school to the son 
of a lawyer of eminence in Alabama, who denied the 
authenticity of the Bible. As it lay on the mantel, he 
took it up one day, and his eye fell on the history of the 
African Servant, by Rev. Legh Richmond. His first 
impression was, that it must be a benevolent religion which 
should induce that eminent man thus kindly to regard the 
welfare of a poor negro : and as he read the narrative he 
could not restrain the conviction, that the same religion 
which was necessary for the salvation of the soul of the 
negro, was necessary also for himself. "^This," says a 
Christian friend, " occurred about four months since ; and 
at our communion, two weeks ago, he and his wife unitedly 
made a public profession of religion. He is a gentleman 
of fine talents and a highly cultivated mind, who was well 
acquainted with the Bible as a history, but had read it with 
strong prejudices against it, in consequence of reading most 
of the works opposed to it. He is now an active and useful 
member of the church. One of his first acts, after his con- 
version, was to appropriate a sum of money for the distribu- 
tion of Tracts." Two or three years after, when the agent 
of the American Tract Society visited the place of his 
residence, he was called to preside at a public meeting in 
behalf of the Tract cause, delivered a very animated address, 
and headed the subscription with $20 for himself, and $10 
for his children. 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 17 

A YOUNG INFIDEL IN NORTH CAROLINA. 

A Baptist clergyman of North Carolina says, that a 
young infidel in that state was walking by the side of a 
pond, when he discovered two leaves of a book partly in 
the water, which he took up, and soon perceived another 
fragment of a book lying at a little distance before him, and 
still farther on, a third. He took up the whole, and putting 
them together, they composed an entire Tract. The perusal 
of it so arrested his attention, that he read it again and again ; 
and such were the impressions created in his mind, that he 
felt an unconquerable desire to read the Bible. He was 
ashamed that this wish should be known to any one ; and 
devised a plan for procuring a Bible hy stealth. He recol- 
lected a little pocket Bible in his grandmother's bookcase ; 
went and made her a visit, and while looking at, and praising 
her library, secured the Bible under the folds of his coat, 
went home and read it in his retired chamber — embraced 
the Lord Jesus Christ, there set forth as crucified for a lost 
world, as his Saviour and Redeemer — and is now a member 
of the church, and an active Christian. 



INFLUENCE OF TRACTS UPON THE PROFANE. 

At the time of a revival of religion in a village in Ver- 
mont, a young man had become so profane that he would 
spend the silence of the night to invent blasphemies more 
horrid than he had heard or before conceived, and com- 
mitting them to memory, would repeat them the next day in 
the presence of those who were laboring under the weight 
of conscious guilt. His father, having become a member 
of an Auxiliary Tract Society, brought home a parcel of 
Tracts, and addressing his son, said, " Here are some Tracts 
for you ; I wish you would read them." The son replied, 
with an oath too shocking to repeat, " you may read them 
yourself." Rut passing the table on which they were 

VOL. III. 41 



28 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

placed, the title ^^Swearer^s Prayer'^ caught his eye, and 
thinking it would help him to be still more profane, he read 
it, and addressing his mother, said, " Mother, do you believe 
that Tract to be true ?" " No doubt that he who wrote it, 
had reason to believe every word of it true," was the reply. 
" Then," said he, " I shall never swear again." He has 
since been received to the bosom of the church, as is 
believed, a humble and penitent Christian. 



A SCOFFER AND BLASPHEMER. 

An agent of the American Tract Society in Connecticut, 
says, I became acquainted with a man who, a few months 
ago, was a scoffer and a blasphemer ; and so bitterly opposed 
to religion, in all its forms, that he actually prohibited his 
little daughter from attending the Sabbath-school. She 
continued incessant in pleading with him for permission to 
go, till at length he yielded to her entreaties. She went — 
received a Tract — carried it home — her father's curiosity 
was excited to know its contents — he read it — by the power 
of divine grace it fastened convictions on his mind — he was 
for some time almost in despair — till at length the Saviour 
was pleased to manifest himself to him — and he appears now 
to be a humble, devoted Christian. 

INFLUENCE OF TRACTS ON THE INTEMPERATE. 

A FATHER IN NEW YORK CITY. 

A benevolent lady in the city of New York says, in 
1825, when visiting for a Bible Association, I became ac- 
quainted with a family who by industry and frugality ob- 
tained aComfortable subsistence. Early in 1827 the mother's 
health declined ; expenses were increased ; and to complete' 
their wretchedness, the father exhausted his earnings at the 
dram-shop; and, as might be expected, often personally 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 19 

abused the family. The little furniture they had got by 
honest industry was taken from them for rent ; and on leav- 
ing the city the succeeding April, the family were reduced 
to wretchedness. I called to take leave of them, and left 
for the father, as a parting present. The Rewards of Drunk- 
enness. On my return to New York I ascertained where 
they had moved, and expected to find a scene of misery. 
But, on entering the room, I should have thought myself 
mistaken in the place, had I not seen and recognized my old 
friends. Neatness and comfort characterized the dwelling, 
and peace smiled on every countenance. It was Saturday 
evening, and evident to me, that the sacred rest of the Sab- 
bath had been anticipated in the arrangements of the family. 
The mother discovered my pleasing surprise, and exclaimed, 
'• O, the Tract — the Tract — the Tract has got all these nice 
things ! My hushand never drank after you gave him the 
Tract. He seems to be a refor7ned man, and says the Tract 
has made him hajjpy, and brought peace and plenty into his 
house. ^^ 



AN INTOXICATED MAN SAVED FROM SUICIDE. 

A Report of the New York City Tract Society says, a 
gentleman of respectable family and genteel appearance, 
while travelling on Long Island, near the city, indulged 
repeatedly in drinking ardent spirits, contrary, it would 
seem, to his usual practice ; and before he was aware, be- 
came intoxicated. Deeply mortified at finding himself in 
this situation, he resolved, in a rash moment, to destroy him- 
self, and for this purpose retired to the woods. After find- 
ing a suitable place, he took from his hat the handkerchief 
with which he intended to execute his dreadful purpose ; but 
providentially, with the handkerchief he drew out from his 
hat a little Tract, which arrested his attention. It had on 
the title-page, A Word in Season. He perused it — it struck 
conviction to his heart — he instantly fell on his knees, and 



20 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

cried to Gochto have mercy on him; and, after continuing 
for some time in earnest prayer, arose, and made his way 
to a neighboring house, where, happily, dwelt a pious Chris- 
tian. Here he gave no sleep to his eyes, but spent the whole 
night, like Jacob, wrestling with God — and we trust he did 
not wrestle in vain. In the morning he returned to the city, 
thanking God for deliverance, effected through the instru- 
mentality of the Word in Season. 



THE TRACT AND THE PEACH ORCHARD. 

. A gentleman, formerly a member of my church, says a 
clergyman, being on a visit to a friend, expressed much 
anxiety to return home within a given time, as he had a 
large orchard of peaches which he wished to gather for 
the distillery. His friend remonstrated with him ; but it 
availed nothing : he must go and gather his peaches for the 
distillery. " Well, if you must go," said his friend, " I will 
give you a Tract to read," and presented him Kittredge^s 
Address. He accepted it, and read it ; and soon after sent 
word to his friend, that instead of carrying his peaches to 
the distillery he had given them to his hogs ; and further, 
that he had resolved never again to suffer his mill to he used 
to prepare grain for the distillery. 



THE DRUNKARD S HOME. 

Some unknown person, says the Secretary of a Tract 

Society in Virginia, left in a tavern at S , the Tract, 

To Distillers. On looking into it, the landlord observed on 
the cover an article entitled, " The Drunkai'd's Home,^^ 
which drew his attention. He read it, and became consid- 
erably out of humor, wondering who could have left that hi 
his house. The result, however, was, that he took down his 
sign, declaring that his house should never again be called 
" The Drunkard's Home.'' 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 21 

INFLUENCE OF TRACTS ON REVIVALS OF 
RELIGION. 

I knew, says a gentleman of New Hampshire, a circle 
of ladies who had been in the habit for more than a year of 
meeting almost every week for the purpose of religious read- 
ing. There was not among them one professor of religion. 
They had, however, read Baxter, and Doddridge, and many 
other works of a similar character ; but, as yet, the ball- 
chamber and the party of pleasure presented attractions 
much more powerful, and much more congenial to their 
hearts. But on a certain evening — an evening ever memo- 
rable in the annals of that community — an evening on which 
the Holy Spirit designed to change the current of their moral 
feelings — a religious Tract was selected as the subject of 
their contemplations. It was put into the hands of a gay 
and thoughtless young lady, whose turn it was to read. She 
looked at the title ; it was the End of Time, by Dr. Watts. 
She began to read — she paused — she attempted to proceed, 
but her heart was too full. She resigned her seat to a com- 
panion. The Tract was read. And the end of time, and 
the realities of eternity, were brought into close connection 
with the scenes of that evening. The influence extended 
from heart to heart, from family to family, from neighbor- 
hood to neighborhood, and in the short space of a few weeks, 
most of the individuals who first listened to the reading of 
the Tract, with more than sixty others, were led to place 
their hopes of salvation on Jesus Christ. That people had 
once been favored with the ordinances of the Gospel. A 
faithful and holy man had been their minister more than 
forty years. He had labored, he had prayed, he had plead 
with earnestness the cause of his Redeemer. But he had 
wept and mourned all his days over the hardness of impeni- 
tent sinners, and had gone down to his grave without ever 
witnessing a revival of religion. I well remember his 

VOL. III. 41=^ 



22 USEFULNESS OP TRACTS. 

prayers — I have often witnessed his tears — and I remember 
also when the pious few followed his remains to the tomb, 
and with him buried all their hopes of enjoying a preached 
Gospel : and though years passed away, their hopes never 
revived till the reading of that Tract. 



THE TRACT ''POOR SARAH'' IN A DESTITUTE SETTLE- 
MENT. 

A very striking instance of the usefulness of Tracts, 
writes a missionary, has occurred in the family of an aged 
and godly father and mother, residing some miles distant 
from me, in Ohio. These parents had seven sons and 
daughters, all married, and resident in their own immediate 
vicinity. In February last the aged father, aijxious that the 
ordinances of the Gospel should be enjoyed by the families 
of his children and others, called on me, desiring my advice 
and assistance in obtaining for them a preacher of the Gos- 
pel. I could not aid him in this respect, but, as I bade him 
farewell, I put into his hand a few Tracts to read to his 
children and neighbors, among which was Poor Sarah, or 
the Indian Woman. The reading of this Tract was the 
apparent means of deeply convicting one of his married 
daughters, who shortly after was filled with joy and peace 
in believing. This circumstance, in connection with the 
reading of the same Tract, was the means of awakening 
another ; others still, soon became deeply interested in the 
subject of religion ; the aged father was urged to establish 
religious meetings on the Sabbath himself; and one and 
another of his children, by birth and by marriage, became 
seriously impressed, until, on my visiting them lately, I 
found twelve of the fourteen indulging — most of them re- 
joicing in — a hope in Christ. One of the remaining two 
was in great distress of mind — one only of the fourteen 
remained careless. 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 23 

HOW TRACTS WERE USED IN A REVIVAL. 

During an extensive revival, says a clergyman in Mas- 
sachusetts, we have had opportunity to observe the effect of 
Tracts, and feel that they have been rendered powerful in- 
struments in bringing sinners to Christ. This has been 
especially the case when they have been distributed with 
particular reference to the feelings and character of individ- 
uals. We have endeavored to distribute them discreetly, 
but have not hesitated to give, to any one, Tracts which in- 
culcate the duty of immediate submission to God, repent- 
ance, and faith. When we have found an impenitent man 
who knew his guilt and felt his danger, and given those 
directions or warnings which, in our judgment, his condi- 
tion required, it has been found important, in some instan- 
ces, to leave with him a Tract exactly adapted to the state 
of his soul. The Tract which is given under such circum- 
stances, is read with care — with tears. It is often the last 
thing an anxious soul reads before the eyes are closed in 
sleep. It probably lies on his pillow, and, it may be, directs 
his earliest thoughts when he awakes. It may be instru- 
mental in giving form to the character, and shape to the 
destiny of an immortal being. The proper selection of a 
Tract for such an individual is vastly important. When 
we have found those who supposed they were reconciled to 
God, we have thought it important, that, to personal instruc- 
tion and counsel, we should add something which the babe 
in Christ might carry with him, and from which he might 
obtain the means of growing in grace, of examining his 
heart, and of deciding respecting his religious character. 
In this respect, those Tracts which relate to Christian char- 
acter and experience have been found exceedingly useful. 



The summer past, writes a lady, we have been blessed 
with the gentle droppings of that grace which purifies the 



24 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

heart ; and not unfrequently have I heard those who were 
inquiring the way to Zion, refer to some sentence which 
they have observed in a Tract, as one that filled them with 
astonishing solemnity. Again, those who felt the joys of 
sins forgiven, and could exclaim, " None but Christ ; he is 
the chiefest among ten thousand, and altogether lovely," 
have often quoted some Tract which they delighted to pe- 
ruse, because it expressed so entirely the language of their 
hearts. 



ONE THOUSAND TRACTS IN ALLEGHANY COUNTY, 
NEW YORK. 

An Agent in New York says, a young man in L — 



y 

being about to remove to Alleghany county, called at the 
Depository in Utica, and obtained about one thousand 
Tracts. These he caused to be faithfully distributed in 
the town where he had fixed his abode. Their distribution 
was soon followed by a general revival of religion. Be- 
tween fifty and sixty professed converts to Jesus Christ were 
the fruits of this revival ; and nearly thirty of them traced 
their first serious i??i2)ressio7is to the Tracts ivhich had been 
put into their harids. 



WORK OF GRACE IN THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 
HOUSE. 

The Committee in their third Report say, an interesting 
work of Divine grace has, for several months, been appar- 
ent among the females employed in printing, folding, and 
stitching Tracts in the Society's House. An unusual seri- 
ousness was observed among them in February of the last 
year, and at no time have the influences of the Spirit seemed 
to be entirely withdrawn. Songs of praise have often as- 
cended from their lips, while their hands have been active 
in folding those messages of truth ; and many a Tract has 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 25 

been wet with tears of sorrow for sin, and, it is hoped, of real 
penitence, before it has gone forth on its errand of mercy. 
Since the commencement of the work, forty-one different 
individuals have been employed in these departments of 
the Society's operations, fifteen of whom were previously 
members of the church. Of the remaining twenty-six, 
eighteen have, since the period above-mentioned, professed 
faith in Christ, and most of them have connected themselves 
with churches of different Evangelical denominations in the 
city. 

A work of similar character, and simultaneous in its 
progress, has also been witnessed among the females en- 
gaged in the house of the American Bible Society. 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS AMONG THE HEATHEN. 

Great, says the departed Rev. Dr. Milne, whose loss is 
lamented by every friend of China — great are our obliga- 
tions to the Tract Society ; and great is the necessity that 
exists in these pagan lands for the exercise of its benefi- 
cence. Tracts are soon read through, and easily carried 
about with one. They may be circulated more widely than 
the sacred Scriptures can. If we calculate either the price, 
or the persons capable of deriving profit from religious 
books among the Chinese, we shall find that fifty Tracts 
may be given away for the expense of one New Testament. 
A missionary among the heathen can carry a hundred 
Tracts in his hand ; and he will ever find great satisfaction 
in leaving an appropriate one in the house where he has 
been visiting ; or in putting one into the hands of those with 
whom he has been conversing ; or dropping one in the high- 
way, where it is likely to be taken up by some passing 
stranger ; or in reading and explaining one to those who 
are inclined to hear. The Tract Society is a most impor- 
tant auxiliary in the work of converting the heathen to 



26 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

Christ ; and though, in comparison with Missionary and 
Bible Societies, it holds, in some respects, a lower place, 
in other respects its utility is more immediate, more exten- 
sive, and more apparent. 



A BRAHMIN IN INDIA. 

We are informed by Dr. Carey, that a distinguished 
Brahmin, who had, for four years, observed a vow of per- 
petual silence, in the temple of Kalee, and was worshipped 
as a god, and whose case was apparently the most hopeless 
of all the human family, was converted to Christianity by 
the reading of a Tract. 



CONVERTS IN CEYLON. 

Dr. J. Scudder, missionary at Ceylon, after urging the 
claims of that benighted country upon the American church- 
es, says, " Glad tidings from this place have already reached 
you ; and we number among those who have been rescued 
from heathenish darkness, two, whose attention to the religion 
of the only true God was jirst awakened by religious Tracts. 
One of them was a youth of high rank in Changane, who 
now rejoices in Jesus as his Saviour, and is almost daily, 
from house to house, and in other ways, making known this 
salvation to others. The other, a young man who resides 
near us, was led, from the attentive reading of the Tract, 
' TJie Heavenly Way,^ to forsake his idols, and now stands 
a candidate for baptism and admission to the church. In 
the great day of account you will meet a number from 
among this people whose robes have, as I trust, already 
been washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb ; 
and what rapture will fill your breast, should you see this 
one and that one pointing to you in that day, and hear them 
saying. Behold, there stands the friend who was instrumental 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 27 

in sending me a Tract, through which, under God, I, who 
was once a poor benighted heathen, have been brought to 
know Jesus. Blessing, and honor, and glory, and praise, be 
unto Him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb, for 
ever and ever.'^ 

A communication from the mission here, relates the 
striking conversion of a young native by reading a Tract, 
and says, "No method of doing good in Ceylon, or India, is 
so promising y with the same sacrifice, as the distribution of 
Tracts. They are better adapted for general circulation 
than even the Scriptures, among such a population as we 
find here, who read but little ; and they/ee/?io^ the sun, and 
sink not under the climate, as does the living missionary. ^^ 



TESTIMONY OF DR. MARSHMAN. 

" Of the value of Tracts in missionary labor,^^ says Rev. 
Dr. Marshman, a most zealous missionary in India, " it is 
needless to speak. Portions of Scripture, or Tracts, have 
had something to do in the conversion of almost every individ- 
ual who has joined the Christian church in India. ^^ 



LETTER FROM REV. DR JUDSON, IN BURMAH. 

" I can spare time to write a few lines only, having a 
constant press of missionary work on hand ; add to which, 
that the weather is dreadfully oppressive at this season. 
Poor Boardman has just died under it, and Mrs. Wade is 
nearly dead. Brother Wade and I are now the only men 
in the mission that can speak and write the language, and 
we have a population of above ten millions of perishing souls 
before us. The great annual festival is just past. During 
this festival I have given away nearly 10,000 Tracts, giving 
to none but those ivho ask. I presume there have been six 
thousand applicants at the house ! Some come two or three 



2Q USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

months' journey, from the borders of Siam and China — ' Sir, 
we hear that there is an eternal hell. We are afraid of it. 
Doctor, give us a writing that will tell us how to escape 
it.' Others come from the frontiers of Cassay, a hundred 
miles north of Ava — ' Sir, we have seen a writing that tells 
us about an eternal God. Are you the man that gives 
away such writings ? If so, pray give us one, for we want 
to know the truth before we die.' Others come from the 
interior of the country, where the name of Jesus Christ is a 
little known — ' Are you Jesus Christ's man ? Give us a 
writing that tells about Jesus Christ.' Brother Bennett 
works day and night at the press; but he is unable to 
supply us ; for the call is great at Maulmein and Tavoy, as 
well as here, and his types are very poor, and he has no 
efficient help. The fact is, that we are very weak, and 
have to complain, that hitherto we have not been well 
supported from home. It is most distressing to find, when 
we are almost worn out, and are sinking, one after another, 
into the grave, that many of our brethren in Christ at home 
are' just as hard and immovable as rocks ; just as cold and 
repulsive as the mountains of ice in the polar seas. But 
whatever they do, we cannot sit still and see the dear Bur- 
mans, flesh and blood like ourselves, and, like ourselves, 
possessed of immortal souls that will shine for ever in 
heaven, or burn for ever in hell — we cannot see them go 
down to perdition without doing our very utmost to save 
them. And thanks be to God, our labors are not in vain. 
We have three lovely churches, and about two hundred 
baptized converts, and some are in glory. A spirit of 
religious inquiry is extensively spreading throughout the 
country, and the signs of the times indicate that the great 
renovation of Burmah is drawing near. O, if we had 
about twenty more, versed in the language, and means to 
spread schools, and Tracts, and Bibles, to any extent, how 
happy I should be. But those rocks, and those icy moun- 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 



29 



tains, have crushed us down for many years. However, I 
must not leave my work to write letters. It is seldom that 
I write a letter home, except my journal, and that I am 
obliged to do." 



MISCELLANEOUS EVIDENCES OF USEFULNESS. 

INFLUENCE OF TWO TRACTS IN A MILITARY ACADEMY. 

The late professor of ethics and chaplain of the Military 
Academy at West Point, (Bishop Mcllvaine,) presented four 
Tracts to a student who called on him, two of which he 
requested him to read for his own personal benefit, and the 
other two, one of which was The Last Hours of the Hon. 
Francis Newport, to drop where some of his sceptical fellow- 
students would be likely to find them. One week after- 
wards, on Saturday afternoon, another student called on him 

and said, " You do not know me, sir — my name is ;" 

and then burst into tears. For some time he could not 
utter a word. The professor, convinced what was the cause 
of his distress, said to him, " My friend, if, as I trust, your 
grief is connected with religion — if you desire to become a 
servant of God, be encouraged to open your heart to me, 
whose heart is already open to you." " I do desire to 
become a servant of God," said he. Deep emotion prevented 
his further utterance for a few moments. Being then asked 
what were the circumstances of his case, he replied, " A 
Tract was lying in my room last Saturday. I cannot 
imagine how it got there ; but I took it up, read it, and it 
made a powerful impression upon my mind. It was an 
account of the death of an infidel.^'' On being requested to 
give some account of the previous state of his mind, he said 
he had not actually considered himself an infidel, but hud 
been very profane, and in the habit of speaking lightly of 
religion, and nothing had effectually arrested his attention 
VOL. III. 42 



30 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS, 

till he read the Tract. He, not long after, gave evidence 
that he had been born of God, and united himself to the 
communion of the church. He soon manifested much 
anxiety for the student through whose instrumentality he 
had received the Tract. " To him, under God," said he to 
the professor, " next to you, sir, I owe an immeasurable 
debt ; and, by the help of God, I will not let him alone till 
we have him among us." A few days after, he called upon 
the professor, with this very young man, from whom he had 
received the Tract, leaning on his arm : " Here he is, sir," 
said he; "the Lord has brought him." Unable to restrain 
his emotions at beholding what he hoped the Lord was doing 
for him, the professor threw his arms around his neck, and 
blessed him. " I can hold out no longer," said he ; " this is 
not the first time ; I have been often called. I can hold out 
no longer. I will be a servant of God, henceforth, for ever." 
It was in reading The Shejjherd of Salisbury Plain, that he 
first felt his heart expanded with love to God, and bursting 
with the spirit of prayer. " Behold, how great a matter a 
little fire kindleth." These two young men are now active 
members of the church of Christ; they have distributed 
thousands of Tracts among the destitute, the ignorant, and 
the perishing ; they are both zealously engaged in the cause 
of Sabbath-schools : by one of them a school of a hundred 
children has been raised up, where, in a population of a 
thousand, the gospel has scarcely ever been preached : by 
one, among a people destitute of the regular means of grace, 
social meetings for prayer and instruction are held every 
week : by the instrumentality of one of them, as many as 
ten, who just now were dreadfully wicked, have been hope- 
fully converted, and are so altered as to astonish their 
former companions. Both have made up their minds to 
consecrate their lives to the ministry of the Gospel, and will 
be, we trust, through many years, continually gathering 
new fruits in testimony of the unspeakable blessings which 



USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 



31 

may flow to the church and to the world through the instru- 
mentality of one religious Tract. 



A TRACT ENCOUNTERED BY A LITERARY GENTLEMAN. 

An officer of a college, says the report of the Tract 
Society at Boston, called one morning on a neighboring 
clergyman, and being seated in a room alone, took up the 
Tract Sixteen Short Sermons. His attention was powerfully 
arrested. He read it through, and saw and felt himself to 
be a condemned sinner. At the same time he saw the sin- 
ner's only refuge — A crucified redeemer. The reading of 
that Tract was the means, under God, to which he now 
attributes his first conviction of sin and his hope of pardon. 



A SWEARER AND GAMBLER. 

A minister of the gospel informed me, says an Agent in 
Alabama, that about two years ago he had a neighbor who 
was a profane swearer and gambler. The minister con- 
versed with him as he had opportunity, and at length put 
into his hand The Swearer^ s Prayer. He at first determined 
to throw the Tract away without reading it ; but influenced 
by curiosity, when he was alone he began to read it. When 
he had read the first page he paused and reflected thus : 
" This is the prayer which I have been offering nearly all 
my days !" He now saw the dreadful import of his oft-re- 
peated prayer, and trembled with apprehension, lest God 
should grant his impious request. He read the Tract 
through, and stood still for some time reflecting what he 
should do. At first he resolved to go home, take his horse, 
and dissipate his serious impressions among a club of gam- 
blers. But on reaching home he relinquished that resolution, 
and resorted to his Bible ; he read it, but the more he read 
the more clearly he saw himself ruined by sin. In a few 



32 USEFULNESS OF TRACTS. 

days he was rejoicing in hope of pardon. Two or three 

months afterwards he united with the church at , and 

he has since given good evidence of being a true convert. 



TESTIMONY OF A CLERGYMAN AT THE WEST. 

Tract Societies, writes a clergyman at the West, are, 
under God, the hope of this land; and will be for years. 
The inhabitants are so mixed and multiform in their religions, 
that, except in a comparatively few favoi'ed spots, there are 
scarcely enough active Christians, of any one denomination, 
to support the preached Gospel. Nor are they a reading 
people. A book is too voluminous to be read. Tracts meet 
precisely our wants. They preach without pay — and they 
preach without fear — and they preach by day and at night 
— and they preach to parents and children — they preach 
short sermons and plain, and they can be changed frequently, 
and at small expense — and they stop while the hearer is 
sleeping, or when he grows impatient, and begin again when 
he is ready to hear — and they can bear insults without 
repining, and favor without becoming vain — contempt and 
scorn, and poverty, present to them no terrors — they rest as 
con»fortably in the unthatched cabin as in citizens' palaces, 
and live as happily with the poor as those who fare sump- 
tuously — they have no ears to hearken to terrible reports 
of fevers and pestilences in the wilds of the West — their 
sympathies are not confined to them that can best pay them, 
nor their efforts in saving to those who best entertain them. 
No. They go forth in the spirit of Gospel preachers — to 
the broken-hearted — to the lost — those wandering upon the 
mountains and in the wilderness — they go — to preach the 
Gospel to the poor. 



No. 105, 



THE 



HAPPY WATERMAN 



OR, 



HONESTY THE BEST POLICY. 




A GENTLEMAN w ho vvas one day a passenger on the river 
Thames, observed on the stern of the boat these words: 
" Honesty the best Policy." Taking notice of it, he de- 
termined to enter into conversation with the Waterman ; 
and, inquiring into his situation in life, found that he had a 
wife and five children, and supported also an old father and 
mother-in-law by his own labor. The gentleman upon this 
was still more desirous to know why he had given such a 
title to his boat, and asked him the reason of it. "I can 
easily explain this to your satisfaction," answered the young 
man, "if you will give me leave;" and being desired to 
proceed, he spoke as follows: 
v'lU.. Tif. 42* 



2 THE HAPPY WATERiMAN. 

" My father and mother died a few years ago, and left a 
large family ; my father was a waterman, and I was his 
assistant in the management of a ferry-boat, by which he 
supported his family ; on his death, it was necessary, in 
order to pay his just debts, to sell our boat. I parted from 
it even with tears : but the distress that I felt spurred me on 
to industry, for I said I will use every kind of diligence to 
purchase my boat back again. I went to the person who 
had bought it, and told him my design ; he had given five 
guineas for it, but told me, as I was once the owner, that I 
should have it whenever I could raise five pounds. ' Shall 
the boat be mine again V said I ; my heart bounded at the 
thought, and I resolved to do my utmost in an honest and 
fair way to obtain my object. 

" I was at this time married to a good young woman, and 
we lived in a small cottage. She was healthy, industrious, 
and careful. We loved one another dearly, and, united in 
our affections and our efforts, what might we not undertake ? 
My father used to say to me, ' Always do what is right ; 
labor diligently, and spend your money carefully ; and God 
will bless your store.' We treasured up these rules, and 
determined to try the truth of them. My wife had long 
chiefly supported two aged parents : I loved them as my 
own — and the desire of contributing to their support, was an 
additional spur to my endeavors to repurchase the boat. I 
entered myself as a day-laborer, in the garden of our squire ; 
and my wife was called occasionally to perform some ser- 
vices at the house ; and employed herself in needle- work, 
spinning, or knitting at home ; not a moment in the day 
was suffered to pass unemployed. We lived sparingly ; not 
a shilling was spent at the ale-house, nor on any improper 
object ; and by these means we were enabled to contribute 
a little both to the support of religion, and to real objects of 
charity ; and also to drop, every week, a little overplus into 
a fairing-box, to buy the boat. If any accident or charity 
brought us an additional shilling, we did not enlarge our 



THE HAPPY WATERMAN, 3 

expense, but kept it for the boat ! The more careful we 
were, the more comfortable we felt, for we were more inde- 
pendent, and daily approached nearer to the object of our 
wishes. Our family indeed increased, but with it our 
friends increased also ; for the cleanliness and frugality 
which furnished our cottage, and the content and cheerful- 
ness that appeared in it, drew the notice of our rich neigh- 
bors ; of my master and mistress particularly, whose rule 
was to assist the industrious, but not to encourage the idle. 
They did not approve of giving money to the poor ; but in 
cold winters, or dear times, allowed us to buy things at a 
cheaper rate : this was money to us, for when we counted our 
little cash for the week's marketing, all that was saved to 
us by our tickets to purchase things at reduced prices, went 
into our ' little box.' If our children got a penny at school 
for a reward, or a present from a neighbor for any little 
service done, instead of buying gingerbread with it, they 
brought it home and gave it to their mother, saying it would 
help to buy the boat. I felt it my duty to teach them, from 
their infancy, to be obliging, industrious, and careful ; recol- 
lecting that early habits are most lasting ; and when we 
* train up a child in the way he should go,' we have the 
assurance of God's promise, that ' when he is old, he will 
not depart from it.' 

" Thus our little store insensibly increased from time to 
time, till one pound only was wanting of the sum so much 
desired • and often my dear wife and I used to remark, that 
the blessing of heaven was very observable in the success 
of our honest endeavors. 

" But the following accident seemed to disappoint our 
hopes. Coming home one evening from my work, I saw in 
the road a small pocketbook ; and on opening it, I found a 
bank note of ten pouiids, which plainly enough belonged to 
my master, for his name was upon it, and I had also seen 
him passing that way in the evening : it being too late, how- 
ever, to return to the house, I went on my way. When I 



4 THE HAPPY WATERMAN. 

told my family of the incident, the little ones were thrown 
into a transport of joy. ' My dears,' said I, ' what is the 
matter?' ' O, daddy, the boat! the boat! we may now 
have two or three boats !' 1 checked them by my looks, 
and asked them if they recollected whose money that was. 
They said, ' Yours, as you found it.' I reminded them that 
t was not the real owner, and bade them think how they 
would all feel, supposing a stranger was to take our box of 
money, if I should happen to drop it on the day I went to 
buy back the boat. This thought had the effect on their 
young minds that I desired : they were silent and pale with 
the representation of such a disaster, and I begged it might 
be a lesson to them never to forget the golden rule of ' doing 
as they would wish others to do to them ;' and never to turn 
aside from what God had made their duty. I also took this 
opportunity to explain to them, that the possession of the boat 
by dishonest means would never answer, since we could not 
expect the blessing of God upon bad deeds. Nothing, I 
think, sir, is of greater consequence than to embrace such 
opportunities for warning children against what is wrong ; 
and for earnestly pressing upon their tender minds these 
principles of religion and morality, which are the means 
appointed by heaven for guiding their youthful minds to 
what is right. Early religious instruction has been an un- 
speakable blessing to me. 

" To go on with my story : The next morning I put 
the pocketbook into my bosom, and went to my work, in- 
tending, as soon as the family arose, to give it to my master ; 
but what were my feelings, when, on searching in my bosom, 
it was nowhere to be found ! I hasted back along the road 
I came, looking diligently all the way, but in vain ! there 
were no traces of any such thing. I would not return into 
my cottage, because I wished to save my family the pain I 
felt ; and in the hope of still recovering the book, I went to 
my work, following another path which I recollected I had 
also gone by. On my return to the garden-gate, I Was 



THE HAPPY WATERMAX. 5 

accosted by the gardener, who, in a threatening tone, told 
me I was suspected ; that our master had lost a pocketbook, 
describing what I had found, and that I being the only man 
absent from the garden at the hour of work, the rest of the 
men also denying that they had seen any such thing, there 
was every reason to conclude that I must have got it. Be- 
fore I could answer, my distressed countenance confirmed 
the suspicion ; and another servant coming up, said I was 
detected, for that a person had been sent to my house, and 
that my wife and family had owned it all, and had described 
the pocketbook. I told them the real fact, but it seemed to 
every one unlikely to be true; every circumstance was 
against me, and (my heart trembles to look back upon it) I 
was arrested, and hurried away to prison ! I protested my 
innocence, but I did not wonder that I gained no credit. 
Great grief now oppressed my heart ; my poor wife, my 
dear children, and my gray-headed parents, were all at once 
plunged into want and misery : instead of the ease and hap- 
piness which we were expecting, all our hopes were blasted 
at the very time when we were just arriving at the height 
of our earthly wishes ; and what was worse, my character 
was tarnished, and all my ungodly fellow-servants, whose 
practices I had often condemned, were triumphing, and re- 
viling religion on my account. 

" My misery seemed almost complete ; and under these 
accumulated sulferings I should certainly have sunk, if the 
consolations of religion had not borne me up. I knew, how- 
ever, I was innocent ; and in frequent and fervent prayer 
endeavored to ' commit my way unto the Lord, and trust 
in him.' 

" I resolved that, having been the cause (though with- 
out any design) of the second loss of the property, I would 
offer the whole of our little store to make it good, as far as 
in my power ; and accordingly sent for my dear wife, to 
give her this sad commission. But alas ! when she came, 
I found this sacrifice could be of no avail, ' for,' said she, 



6 THE HAPPY WATERMAN. 

* my master has been at the cottage, when 1 told him freely 
how you had found the note, but unfortunately had lost it 
again ; and I added, that I was sure, both I and my hus- 
band would make the best return in our power; after 
which I produced our little fairing- box, and begged him to 
accept the contents, which had been so long raising, as all 
we had to offer :' but, sir," said the Waterman, " conceive 
my agony, when she added, that my master angrily refused, 
saying, that our being in possession of. all that money, was 
of itself the clearest proof of my guilt ; for it was impos- 
sible, with my large family, and no greater opportunities 
than my neighbors, that I could come honestly by such a 
sum ; therefore he was determined to keep me in jail till 
I should pay the whole. My unhappiness was very great ; 
however, my mind by degrees began to be more easy, for 
I grew confident that I should not trust in God and my 
own innocence in vain ; and so it happened : one of my 
fellow-laborers proved to be the person who had picked 
up the pocketbook after I had dropt it, having come a few 
minutes after me along the same road to his work, and hear- 
ing that the suspicion had fallen altogether upon me, he 
was tempted to turn the accident to his own advantage, and 
conceal the property ', which having kept in his own box 
for a few weeks, till he thought no suspicion would rest 
upon him, he went and offered the note for change, and be- 
ing then suspected, my master had him taken up, and I was 
released. 

" The second change, from so much misery to happiness, 
was almost too much for us. My master sent for me, and 
with many expressions of concern for what had passed, 
made me give him an account of the means by which I 
had collected the little fund that fixed his suspicions so 
strongly upon me. I accordingly related the history of it, 
as I have now done ; and when I came to that part, where 
I checked my children for their inconsiderate joy, on their 
finding the note, he arose with much kindness in his looks, 



THE HAPPY WATERMAN. 7 

and putting the bank-bill into my hand, he said, ' Take it : 
the bank-note shall be theirs. It is the best and only return 
I can make you, as a just reward of your honesty : and 
it will be a substantial proof to your children of the good- 
ness of your instructions ; for they will thus early see and 
feel the benefit of honesty and virtue !' 

" This kind and worthy gentleman interested himself 
much in the purchase of my boat, which, in less than a 
week, I had in my possession. The remainder of my 
master's bounty, and the additional advantage of the ferry, 
have placed me in comfortable circumstances, which I 
humbly trust God will continue to us, as long as we con- 
tinue our labor and honest diligence ; and I can say, from 
my long experience, that the fruit of our own industry is 
always sweetest. I have now also the pleasure of being 
able to help others ; for when a rich passenger takes my 
ferry, as my story is well known in the neighborhood, he 
often gives me more than my fare, which enables me to let 
the next poor person go over for half price. 

" My employment in this way has become also a pleas- 
ure. I see the blessing of God on my honest and lawful 
industry ; and when I go home to my family at night with 
my little earnings, I find it a paradise of domestic enjoy- 
ment. My wife, according as our slender circumstances 
will permit, is always contriving how she can make me 
happier at home than anywhere else. My children are 
waiting to share a father's smiles, and tell me all their 
little tales of what has passed during the day. And my 
little cottage, though poor, is always neat and clean, and 
orderly, and the habitation of peace. By never frequenting 
the ale-house, I save daily from sixpence to a shilling more 
than many others in my employment; and this, put into 
one of the Savings Banks lately instituted for the benefit 
of the poor, has amounted, last year, to twelve pounds. 
Vice and extravagance, sir, are the fruitful parents of mis- 
ery ; but godliness, as the Scripture says, ' is profitable 



g THE HAPPY WATERMAN. 

unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, 
and of that which is to come.' " 

The gentleman was exceedingly pleased with the Wa- 
terman's story, and the piety of his remarks ; and from 
this time, becoming acquainted with his family, he did him 
every service in his power, giving books and schooling to 
the little ones, and such things as would make the aged 
parents comfortable, as long as they survived. He was 
very desirous of knowing what became of the unfortunate 
fellow-laborer, who had so dreadfully gone aside from the 
principles of honesty ; and he learnt that he was, after a 
short imprisonment, set at liberty by his master, at the 
earnest entreaty of the honest Waterman : and the thought 
of what he had done, together with the generosity of the 
Waterman, had so strong an effect upon this poor fellow, 
that he afterwards had it written upon his cottage door. 
Do AS YOU WOULD BE DONE UNTO. This simple and cer- 
tain rule is the same to all ranks; it is the sum of the 
second table of the law ; and the man who does not act 
under its influence, shows too plainly that he has never 
been changed by the renewing of his mind. For the Scrip, 
tures assure us that every man is by nature " dead in tres- 
passes and sins," Eph. 2:1; but when he becomes a new 
man, and is "created in Christ Jesus unto good works," 
the dispositions and affections of his mind are changed ; and 
his devout, and regular, and honest conduct are the most 
certain evidences which we can have, that he is a Christian. 

Christianity is not that empty and notional thing which 
many take it to be. It is not a mere name ; a Sabbath cer- 
emony ; a compliance with the customs of a country. It 
changes a man's character and conduct ; makes him con- 
tented, industrious, and useful, like this honest Waterman. 
And if it does not this, it wants the signature of heaven ; 
and the man who professes it, while he maintains not a 
conversation becoming the Gospel, is only deceiving his 
own soul. 



Date Due 




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