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THJB. AVT.H'OR:^ .... • 

.At^/cce^yr^ OF- »''* * 

His Sentiments about C<Sntr<?versiiil^W^<dntfs; his Temptations 
and t>ii&ealtie$ ; Xa^p^yt^^t&Z^^S^^f ftn<A 
CoiSfesSi^n uiii^'fecja?i%! V 

<' The memory of the jnst is blessed." Frot. x. 7« 




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^ V V V m 

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The following Tnteresting piece o( 
Female Biography was fir9t published 
by the justly celebrated Reverend Mr. 
Baxter, in the year 1661, under the title 
of '' A Breviat ^f the life of Margaret, 
the Datighter of Francis Charlton, of 
Applej in JSliropsfiire, Esq. and Wife of 
Bjcbard Baxter/^ Having become ex* 
<;eeding Jtcarce, it is again presented to 
the world, with the hope that it may be 
useful to many in the present day. 


Tbift Memoir exhibits in Mrs. Baxter 
a character so justly worthy of imita- 
tion for solid piety, active benevolence, 
and evffry sojoial and domestre virtue, as 
at once to cbmmund love dkd • respect. 
She was so eitiineti^by ^b^lessed with a 
spirit of philan(hrot>y^ an^dent and gen- 
erous mind, h sixtok^ m^^memt, and re- 
fined sensibilRy; aAdea to a highly culti- 
vated intellect, that her company was 
eagerly sought, and greatly valued. With 
what ardour of mind she strove to alle- 
viate the miseries and to increase the 
happiness of the poor, the afflicted, and 
the destitute, a perusal of the narrative 
will abundantly shew. 


The account of the very excellent Mo- 
ther of Mrs. Baxter, added to this edi- 
tion, is taken chiefly from a Funeral Ser- 
mon, preached by Mr. Baxter at her de- 
cease, and published soon after, at his 
wife's particular request. 

The Appendix, it is presumed, will 
be considered a pleasing addition to the 
memoir, containing an account of Mr. 
Baxter himself, written when advanced 
iu years: The comparison he draws be- 
^een his views when young and at ma- 
ture age, is interesting, and worthy of 
the greatest attention. 

The Notes have also been added, and 
may either be read with the narrative, or 
omitted, at the option of the reader: they 
are partly iU\^tf^tife Qf* ^n|e incidents 
not so fAlljJ l]tiUi9er»|St6dIH2thout them ; 
but they pri»cipsiJJy ; pgqsist of Biogra- 
phical Noticeg-'^f.^a^ireralbf Mr. Baxter's 
intimate frieudKioeiitiQtifdin the memoir, 
and were mostly •.Wfl&^n-Jby himself at 
different periods. They have been col- 
lected from his " Life and Times" in folio, 
from other parts of his Writings, and 
other sources. 


London, January 9, 18f6. 



God having called away to his blessed rest 
ijad glory ^ the apirit of th^ juost dear compa- 
nion of these last nineteen yeaiis of my life^ or 
aear ; I found in her Jast will a request^ that I 
should jepcint five imndred of her Mother's 
Funeral Ser^aian^ wriMken by me in l<66l^ being 
now out of press^ called, ' The Last Work <rfa 
Believer, his. Passing Prayer, &€x,' Not only 
her very great love and honouf of h&c remem- 
bered Mother moved her to it,, but the appre* 
hension of the usefulness of that subject to 
dying Christians ; a tftubject about which her 
soul. was awjakewd the moce, by the tleath of 
,many friends and excellent Christians taken 
away this year, And ihe day somewhat ex- 
cited her ; for it was written by her on Decem- 
ber SO, the same day which she kept secretly 
as an anniversary remembrance of the sentence 
of death from which she had been delivered ; 
and the same day when our dear friend Mr. \ 

Corbet* lay dying. And I find some expecta- 
tions of her own a^peedy death bad" some hand J 
in it. "i 

* For an account of thb good man, see page 57 » fuie* 

a 2 

vi THE author's adduess 

Being thus obliged. by ber request^ mine own 
affections urged me to premise this breviat 
of her .own life: written, I confess, under the 
power of melting grief, and therefore perhaps 
with the less prudent joldgment ; but not with 
the less, but the more truth : for passionate 
weakness poureth out all, which greater pru« 
dence may conceal. Conscionable men's his* 
tories are true ; but if they be also wise, they 
tell us but some part of truth, concealing that 
which would do harm, and which the depraved 
world cannot bear without abusing it. But we 
that are less wise tell all the truth, too little 
regarding how men will receive it. And hence 
comes all history, which hath not evidence 
equal to natural, to be of less credit than most 
men think ; while bad men lie, and good men 
leave'ottt so much of the truth, as makes the 
rest to be as another thing than altogether it 
would appear. 

And having purposed to write this bre- 
viat concerning my dear wife*, God having 
the same j^ear taken away two more of my an- 
cient family, I wrote a breviat of their lives 
also : One was my excellent, holy mother-in- 
law, Mary, the daughter of Sir Thomas Hunks, 
widow to my dear Father. She was one of 
the 'most humble, mortified, holy persons that 
ever I knew ; and lived in longing to be with 
Christ, till she was a hundred years old, want- 


mg three or four^ in fuU understanding, and at 
last rejoicing in the triumphant frequent hear* 
ing and repeating the 9l8t Psalm. 

The other was my old friend and house- 
keeper, Jane Matthews, who lived in pious, 
humble virginity, with eminent worth, to about 
seventy-six or seventy-seven years, and died of 
mere decay, without considerable pain or sick- 
QesSy about a month or six weeks before my 

To these I added a fourth, a breviat of the 
life and death of that worthy mother of my 
wife, as to the time since I knew her. But I 
have cast by all these latter three, and much of 
the first, by the counsel of wise friends, as 
things which they think that strangers will not 
make so great a matter of, as love and nearness 
made me do. And I must confess, that God's 
image is the same thing on all his children ; 
and when you have described one, you have 
described all, as to the essentials. But (as in 
faces and bodily strength) they so much differ 
in integrals, degrees and accidents, that the 
lives of some are far more exemplary and ho- 
nourable to Christ their Lord, and their Chris- 
tian profession than others are. And some are 
so much blemished by errors, soul-diseases, and 
miscarriages of life^ yea, and injuries to the 
Church of Christ, by their carnal animosities 
and divisions, as rendereth the examples of the 

Viii TH£ Atn^OR^S ADDRE89 

uove wise^ holy^ loving^ peaceabk^ and pa* 
ti«Bt Christiaos^ the' more conspicuous and 
honourable by the difference. 

On this account^ finding young people na^ 
turally much delighted in history^ and that for 
want of better^ abundance are quickly corrupt* 
ed and ensnared by tale*books^ romances^ pldy- 
books^ and false or hurtful history^ I have long 
thought that true and useful history is of great 
use to prevent such evils, and to many profi- 
table ends : and that to young people it is very 
profitable to begin with the Scripture history, 
and next the lives of holy persons, and ne:i:t to 
read the true church historians, and the history 
of our native country ; Melchior Adamus in 
Grermany, Beza in his Icones, Thuanus and 
many othera in Franqe^ have done the church 
this way greaft service, by a due commemora- 
tion of exemplary persons. And such as Ju- 
nius, Scultetus, Tbuanus and others, who have 
recorded the chief passages of their owIsl lives, 
have done a profitable work, though Mome's 
wiH say, *Tbey publish their own praise in 
pride/ There is no saying or doing any good 
in the world, which bad men will not reproach, 
or put an Ity'd face on, or make an ill use of to 
themselves. But he that reads such lives as 
Bucholtzer's, Melancthon's, and their like, and 
then readeth their church histories, will the 
better discern that they were no liars. 

As it is Satan's work to counterwork Christ 



by the abuse and perversion of his own ordi- 
nances and means^ (as to disgrace revelation by 
feigned revelation, and spirituality by false pre- 
tendings to the Spirit, and magistracy by 
wicked magistrates, and the ministry by world- 
ly and ungodly ministers, and Christianity by 
hypocrite, false Christians) ; so he doth ener- 
vate the ctedit and use of history by false his- 
tory. And how great use he hath made of this 
to promotje Popery, he that readeth Jacobus de 
Voragine, and many other of their legends, or 
saints' lives and ndiracles, and such as Tympius 
and many mofe> besides their voluminous^ de- 
ceitful histories of church, popes, and councils, 
may quickly find. 

As to these little private histories of mine 
own familjf forementioned, I was loath to cast 
by my own mother-in-law*s life, she being a 
person of so long and extraordinary holiness, 
living (long with Sir Robert Harley, whose 
lady was her cousin-german, and after at 
Shrewsbury, and after with my father and me, 
&c.) in so great communion with God, con- 
tempt of the world, and all its pomp and Vanity, 
so great victory over the flesh, and so long de- 
sires to die, and especially in mu'ch constant, 
fervent, successful prayer that had marvellous 
answers, as very few Christians attain. 

And I was loath to have cast by the tiarrative 
of my wife*s mother, for some reasons not now 
to be mentioned, and because her daughter's 

JIC THE author's A1>DR£SS 

extraordinary love to her 0iacl^ h^ juit hwo^f 
Vf^ry dear ia her : But hst character ia in ihe 
Sermon truly given you * 

But I am convinced by the J^dgmcsit of mf 
friendai^ that pubjiic things are most &t for puh* 
he japtice^ And I feel that loi^^ girief and 
nearness affect me with the maUtsf^ that are flo 
near me ; and as it doth not much concern the 
world to know whether I am Bkk or wfM, dead 
or alive, or whether? ever I had a beii^, <tbougli 
it concerns jne) : so I should th^.of the aotk" 
cerns of iuy friends. Affecticiaiiii^l^eil its think 
our own or our friends' affairs to )^ su^as the 
world should be affected with : I petceif^ tfyp 
weakness and submit. ^ 

That which is left outx^f the narr^^^ve o/ my 
wife's life, is the occasicuis m>d ia4uceme|it^ of 
our marriage, and son^e pas^c(ge3.betwee9 boi|i^ 
relatives e^nd her, which the world is not o^a^ 
cerned (yet at least) to know* 

If this that is written »e^ ^s^less to any, it 
will not hurt them if they leave it tp others 
that find it more suitable to them. All things 
be not agreeable to all. That may be useful to 
persons of her own quality, which is not «o ip 
many others. To her nephews, and nieces, and 
some other kindred who were also a^ar to her, 
and for whose sake above most others I write 
it, you cannot think that it will be altogether 

* See an extract from this Sermon, pp. 113—134. 

its^M* €> ttiat. tbey \»»ad all intiHate her m 
aU tlmt. k piraisetrcnrlby, iMid needful to tbemv 
»«lye»* . TIk gmwk. oh^otk^ I Ibresee wiU hf, 
Vat^ I teem but td* pr^ibae^ i«^^ of nuim- owtt 
good woidcs. bgrr pattiMii]; ha^t Aa<l ttiiist f 
n^f^bwryl^taeasxxjr9§ik^mtliB'hefB^ for fear 
of the »ting «£ socH' ob^tdrft.^' I' h^al^ ixildl 
theqL Iridy^ k iscnoi lOTroii^ a<e«^^ hxii ttibse 
that ar^^proj^cHly' hersT that 1 ihe^ mention. It 
is njo4 her vgirii^ of.iay'UfoDtej^'whibh lithere 
r«cito^ but tbiat whidr eitlbss Was her own^ athf 
Dqne of minel; /otr else pmcilr^d^by her for thane 
uses ; and th^itfaskifSuKii, ' te* wbfefa t waii btit 
the executor of her will. 

SHe irf gofne* after many of my choicest 
friends^ who within this one ye£^ ^rd gone to 
Christ, and I am following even at the door. 
Had I been to enjoy them only here, it would 
have been but a short comfort, mixed with the 
many troubles which all our failings and sins, 
and some degree of unsuitableness between the 
nearest and dearest cause. But I am going 
after them to that blessed society, where life, 
light and love, and therefore harmony, concord 
and joy, are perfect and everlasting. 

Reader, Whije I give thee but the truth, 
forgive the effects of age, weakness and grief. 
And if before I get over this (owned) passion, 
I publish also a few Poetical Fragments partly 
suited to the condition of some sick or sad af- 
flicted friends, and partly to my own 5 if t^ou 

xii THE author's address. 

accept them not^. forgive them only and neglect 
them. As the man is^ such will be his thoughts 
and works. The Iiord prospar our preparation 
for our great approaching change. To leave 
this world for ever^. and enter upon an endless 
life^ where we shall speed according to the pre* 
parations of this little inch of time^ doth cer- 
tainly bespeak the most serious thoughts^ the 
wisest and speediest care and diligence^ the 
most patient sufferings the. most unwearied la- 
bour^ the most frugal use of our time^ the most 
resolute resistance to all temptations ; and to 
the faithful the most joyful hopes. 


Jaly 33, 1681. 





Her Parentage y and the occasion of our Acquaintance. 

1. Though due affection makes me willing to give 
the world a narrative which else I had omitted^ yet the 
fear of God hath not so forsaken me^ that I should 
willingly deliver any falsehood through partiality or 
passion : but as I knew more of this person than any 
other^ for the good of the readers^ and the honour of 
God's grace in her; I shall by God's assistance truly 
report the things which I knew. . 

2. We were bom in the same county, within three 
miles and a half of each other ;* but she of one of the 
chief families in the county, and I but of a mean 
freeholder, called a gentleman . for his ancestors' 
sake, but of a small estate, though sufficient : Her 
father, Frainds Charlton, Esq. was one of the best 
justices of the peace in that county j a grave and so- 
ber worthy naan, but did not marry till he was aged 
and grey, and so died while his children were very 
young : who were three, of which the eldest daughter 
and the only son are yet alive. He hi^ one surviving 
brother, who after the father's death, maintained a 

• Mr. Baxter was born at Rowton, near High-Ercall, Salop, 
12th Nov. 1^15. 




long and costly suit about the guardianship of the 
heir 5 this uncle, Robert, was a comely, sober gentle- 
man 5 but the wise and good mother Mary, durst not 
trust her only son in the hands of one that was his 
next heir 5 and she thought that nature gave her a 
greater interest in him than an unde had* But it 
being in the heat of the late civil ymr, Bobert being 
for the Parliament, had the advantage of strength, 
which put her to seek reHef at Oxford from the king, 
and afterwards to marry one Mr. Hanmer, who was 
for the king, to make her interest that way. Her 
house being a sort of small castle, was now garri- 
soned for the king. But at last, Robert procured it 
to be besieged by the parliament's soldiers, and 
stormed and taken ; where the mother and the chil- 
dren were, and saw part of their buildings burnt, ^nd 
some lie dead before their eyes 5 and so Robert got 
possession of the children. 

But at last, she by great wisdom and diligence sur- 
prised them, secretly conveyed them to Mr. Bernard's 
inJBssex, and secured them against all hia endeavours. 

3. The wars being ended, and she as guardian pos- 
sessing her son*s estate, took him (an only son) to 
herself, and used his estate as carefully as for herself j 
but out of it conscionably paid debts of her husband's, 
repaired some of the ruined houses, and managed 
things faithfully, according to her best discretion, until 
her son marrying, took his estate into his own hands. 

4. She, being before unknown to m^, came to 
Kidderminster (twenty miles), desiring me to take a 
house for her alone : I told her that I would not be 
guilty of doing any thing whidh should separate such 
a mother from an only son, who in his youth had so 
much need of her counsel, conduct, and comfort i 


and that if passion in her^ or any fault in bim^ had 
caused a difference^ the love which brought her 
through so much trouble for him^ should teach her 
patience. She went home^ but shortly came again, 
and took a house without my knowledge. 

5. When she had been there alone awhile, her un- 
married daughter Margaret, (about seventeen or 
eighteen years of age^) came after her from her bro^ 
ther*8^ resolving not to forsake the mother who de^ 
served her dearest love ; and sometime went to Ox* 
ford to her ^dest sister, wife to Mr. Jmhroie Uptait,* 
then canon ofChriBt Ctarch. In this time the good 
old mother lived as a blessing among the honest poor 
weavers of Kidderminster, strangers to her, whose 
company for dieir piety she chose before all the van- 
ities of the world. In which time my acquaintance 
wiUi her made me know, that notwithstanding she 
had formerly been somewhat passionate, she was a 
woman of manly patience in her great trials ; of pru- 
dence, piety, justice, impartiality, and other virtues. 
Of her death anon. It is her daughter's case that 
this is the prologue to. 

■ ■' ' ^ « I H III I » ■ I .1 11 ■ I I III 

* Wood, in hu Atfacn. Oxon. obaeives of tlus gendeiiKm, that 
' he was one of tho6e many that were this and the next jear made 
Fellows of AllaouU' College bj the Visitors. In 1651, he became 
by the favour of Oliver CromweU/Canon of Christ Church, in the 
pUce of Dr. John Mills, ejected for refusing the Engagement ; but 
being discharged of that place, about th^ 13th of March, 1659, to 
make way for the sud Ifills, then restored by the Rump Parlia- 
ment and secfaided members added to them, he retfred to London, 
and lived sometime there a Nonconformist Afterwards he went 
into Ireland, got a place there belong^ to the Customs, and lived 
m good fashion for several years. Afterwards returning into Eng- 
land, he conchided his last days in London, and was buried at 
Christ Church, in the City. He was one of the ancient family of 
the Uptons in Devonshire/ 



Of her Conversion, Sickness, and Recovery. 

I. In her vain youth, pride> and romances^ and com- 
pany suitable thereto> did take her up ^ and an im- 
prudent^ rigid governess that her mother had set over 
her in her absence, had done her hurt, by possessing^ 
her with ill thoughts of strictness in religion ', yet 
she had a great reverence for some good ministers, 
especially Mr^ Tliomas Wright;* and she thought that 
she was not what she should be, but something bet- 
ter (she knew not what) must be attained. 

In this case, coming to Kidderminster for mere- 
love to her mother, she had great aversion to the 
poverty and strictness of the people there^ glittering 
herself in costly apparel, and delighting in her ro^. 
manees. But in a little time she heard and under» 
stood what those better things were which she had 
thought must be attained. 

And a sermon of Mr, H, Hickman^sf at ChdSord 
much moved her, on Isa. xxvii. 11 ; It is a people 
of no understanding y therefore he that made them^ 
will not save them, ^c. The doctrine of conver- 

* He was a man of extraordinary leamiog, ahility, moderation, 
and peaceableness. 

t Henry Hickman, B. D. Fellow of Ma^alen College, and a 
celebrated preacher in Oxford : a smart disputant, and a man of 
excellent general learning. After he was ejected, he lived for some 
time privately in Worcestershire, preaching only occauonally } a.nd 
was afterwards mimster of the English congregation at Leyden, in 
Holland, where he was generally much esteemed and respected. 
He lived to a good ojd age, and died there about the tim;^ of the 
Revolution. He was the author of several learned tracts. 


^n, as 1 preached it as now in my '* Treatige of 
Converiion,'* was received on her heart as the seal on 
the waK. Whereupon she presently fell to self-judg- 
mg, and to frequent prayer, and reading, and serious 
thoughts of her present state, and her salvation. 

9. A religious maid that waited on her, taking no- 
tice of this (for she kept all her matters so secret to 
herself, as was her great hdrttdl her life), acquainted 
her mother with it 5 and when it could be hid no 
longer, but her frequent eloset-prayers were some- 
times overheard, and her changed course of life dis* 
ceraed, her mother (^ho as far as I could discern, 
before laved her least of her three children,) began 
to esteem her as her darling. 

4. 1 wiU here give you one of her self-judging pa- 
pers, which I find since her death, upon her then sad 
convictions. When I had on Rom. viii. 9, told tliem 
how it may be known whether we have Christ^s Spi- 
rit or j:iot, she thus repeated the signs with her self- 
condemnation : 

Mark 1. The Spirit of Vhri^ is the author of the 
Scriptures, and therefore suiteth your dispositimt t^it, 
and guideth you by it. 

Judgm. 1. '' I fear then I have not the Spirit ot 
Christ ; for I yet feel no love to God's word, nor clo- 
sure with it as suitable to me ; but I am questioning 
the truth of it, or at best quarrelling with it.'* 

Mark 2. The Spirit of Christ is from heaven, from 
God our Father, and leadeth us upward unto him. Its 
work is spiritual, of heavenly tendency, making us cry, 
'jihba.. Father,* and working the heart by uniting love to 

Judgm. 9. ''It is not so with me, for I have a 
ffxcit tending only to selfishneijs and sin.** 


Mark 3. The Spirit of Ch'rwt tmiteth us to Ckri^, 
and one another by love, and is against hatred, divi^ 
sicm, and abusing others, 

Judgra, 3. ^'Mine tiien is the spirit of C&iti/ for I 
cannot endure any that are not of my opinion and 
way } and it inclineth me to nialice^ and unpeaeeable- 
ness^ and division." 

Mark 4. The Spirit of Christ is a spirit of holiness, 
and doth not favour licentiousness in doctrine, or in life, 
. Judgm. 4. ^^ Though I an^ for strict principliers^ I 
am loose in practice.'* 

Mark 5. Christ's Spirit inclineth to lave, humility, 
and meekness, and makes men stoop td each other for 
their good, 

Judgm. 5. " None more uncharitable^ proud and 
censorious than I." 

Mark 6. The Spirit of Christ makes men little, low, 
and vile in their own eyes; it is pride that puffeth up. 
. Judgm. 6. ''My self-conceited ness shews that I 
am unhumbled/* 

Mark 7. The Spirit of Christ doth work to the mor- 
tifying of the Jiesh, even all its inordinate desires, and 
to self-denial. 

Judgm. 7. " I am a stranger to the work of morti- 
fication and self-denial. 1 can deny myself nothing 
but the comfort of well-doings I cannot deny my 
sloth so far as to go to prayer when I am convinced 
of my necessity.'* 

Mark 6. The Spirit of Christ is a prevailing Spirit, 
and doth not only wish and strive, but overcome the 
Hesh as to its rule. 

Judgm. 8. " The flesh prevaileth with me against 

the Spirit." 

Mark 9. Christ's Spirit is the author of his worship 


md otdinances, and suits the souls of believers to them, 
the Word, Sacraments, 8(C. 

Jiidgm. 9. "They seem not suitable to my soul; 
I am against them^ and had rather not use them^ if 
T durst." 

Mark 10. Christ* s Spirit is in all the saints, and tn- 
dinetk them to holy communion toith each other in 
love, especially to those in whom this Spirit most emi^ 
nenily worketh, 

Judgm. 10. *^ It is not thus with me : I desire not 
the communion of saints : my affections are most 
to those who are best to me, whether they have more 
or less- of the Spirit. 

''To go no further, it is now evident that I am a 
graceless person. Though all these things be imper- 
fect in the best, and some are more wanting in one 
particular than in another 3 yet where all their con- 
traries are predominant, as in me, that person is told 
by this sermon, that they are none of Christ's ; how 
much doth my behaviour at this time make this ap- 
pear, when I can with a hard heart, and a dry eye, 
and a steady hand, declare myself at present heir of 
everlasting woe ! But the longest day will quickly 
come, though I strive to put it far from me.'* 

4. It would be too long to recite a paper which I 
find next to this, containing the great necessity of 
self-judging, ^e reasons for it, the rules for perform- 
ing it, and the due manner ; especially in dangers, 
and before the Sacraments, or any conclusions of our 
state of grace* 

5. But these convictions did neither die, nor pass 
unto despair, but to serious conversion 5 yet put her 
to struggle hard against backwardness to secret du- 


tieSj and the forsaking of some vanities ; but pre- 
sently God seemed sharply to entertain this returning 
soul. And while we were all rejoicing in her change^ 
she fell into^'a cough, and seeming consumption, in 
which we almost despaired of her life. The doctors 
judged it a consumption, arising from the obstructions 
of the vessels in the lungs, and corrupting the tender 
adjoining parts, and prescribed her the same medi- 
cines. But all these, and change of aar> did no good^ 
I and my praying neighbours were so sorry that such 
a changed person should presently be taken away 
before she had time to manifest her sincerity, and 
do God any service in the world, that in grief they 
resolved to fast and pray, for her 5 for former expe- 
rience had lately much raised their belief of the suc- 
cess of prayer. They had lately prayed for one that 
seemed demoniac, that after some years* misery, was 
suddenly freed of that disease. They had oft prayed 
for me in dangerous iUness, and I bad speedy help^ A 
young man falling into a violent epilepsy, and after, 
all means remaining uncured, they set to fasting and 
prayer, and the second day he was suddenly cured, and 
never had a fit since. God did not deny their prayers, 
though they were without book, and such as some de- 
ride as extemporate. I was not with them in any of 
these, but laymen that were humble, praying persons. 
But I was with them at prayer for this woman -, 
and compassion made us all extraordinarily fervent, 
and God heard us, and speedily delivered her as it 
were by nothing, or by an altogether undesigned 
means. She drank of her own inclination, not being 
directed, a large quantity of syrup of violets, and the 
next morning her pulse suddenly amended, her cough 
abated, and her strength returned in a short time. 



The workings of her Soul in and after this Sickness, 

1 . She being of too timorous and tender a nature, and 
thesharp work of her repentance beingyet upon her spi- 
rit ^ for death to come and seem to summon her away 
to eternity at such a season and unsettled state, must 
needs greatly increase her fSears, when the strongest, 
long experienced Christians find it no 'easy work to 
die in peace and willing resignation. But she had 
stiH a ibencealing temper, which made it never the 
•easier within. 

9. When God had recovered her, her mother in- 
vited those that fasted and prayed for her, to keep a 
day of thadisgiving for her deliverance. I asked her 
what she would have us give thanks for particularly ? 
and in the morning as we began, she (that was re- 
covered) gave us in this following paper : 

'^ My life hath been a life of very great mercies, 
and these have aggravated my ^in in overlooking' 
them. Some of those which God hath most afifect<?d 
my heart with, I shall here mention ; but alas ! with 
a heart very insensible of the greatness of them. 

'*^ 1. My mother's restoration first I did thank God 
for 5 andnext, for many mercies of mine own. Four 
times before this, I have been delivered from great 
danger of death. 

''And now 1 desire to acknowledge his mercy in, 
delivering me from this death-threatening disease, 
and that in answer to prayer I am here now in com- 
petent health to speak of the goodness of the Lord. 
^'2. I desire to acknowledge it a mercy that God 



afflicted me 5 and though I cannot with the Psalmist 
say^ But now I keep thy statutes, I can say. Be- 
fore I was afflicted I went astray. And how many 
great sins God hath prevented by this affliction, I 
cannot tell > but am sure that God hath dealt very 
gracioosl^with me 5 and 1 have had many comforts 
with my sufferings^ which God kath not given to 
many of his beloved ones. 

" 3. I desire to acknowledge God*s great mecey to 
me in bringing me to this town, under so useful 
means of grace ', and that at such a time when I was 
even ready to engage in a course of sin and vanity, 
beyond what I had formerly lived in. This metcy is 
much greatened by the time ; for had the Lord brought 
me hither in in£uicy, and removed me at riper years, 
the mercy would not have been so great, i^nd if I 
had gone longer on in a course of hardening siqs, it 
had been less than now it is. 

^f 4. 1 desire to ackuowledge it a great mercy, that 
I want no outward thing, but am enabled to be help- 
ful unto others, and have all the temporal merdes 
that I can well desire, for my encouragement in the 
ways of God. 

'^5. I desire to acknowledge it a great mercy, that 
Grodhath given me an interest in the hearts and prayers 
of so many of his feiithfid servants in this place. 

'' 6. I desire to acknowledge it a great mercy, 
that God hath made me the child of godly parents, 
and a child of many prayers. 

'^7. I desire to acknowledge it a great meix^y, 
which I can never be thankful enough for, that Grod 
hath given me a heart in any measure willing to ac- 
knowledge his mercies, and be thankful for them ; 
and that notwithstanding all that sin and Satan hath 


done to hiud^ it, he hath made me desirous this day 
to give up myself and all that I have to him ; taking 
him only for my God and chief felicity. 

''And now the requests that I desire you to make 
to God on my behalf, are these : 

'' (I.) That he ^vill give me a more thSEnkful soul> 
that I may praise him all my days. 

'^ ($.) And an humble hearty that I may be taught 
of God^ who looketh on the proud afer off. 

'' (3.) And a tender conscience, that I may fear to 
offend him, and hate all sin. 

'' (4.) And strength so to resist temptation, that I 
be not led by Satan to dishonour God, or to provoke 

" (5.) And a meek and quiet frame of spirit, that 
I may be contented to bear the afflictions that God 
shall lay me under without murmuring or repining.** 

3. This being that which i^gave us in, I find un- 
der her hand this secret renewal that same day of her 
covenant with God, which I annex : 

*' This being a day set s^part for returning thanks 
to God for his mercy, in delivering me from the gates 
of death, these people being they that have earnestly 
supplicated the throne of grace on my behalf, I here 
now renew my covenant with Almighty God, and 
resolve by his grace to endeavour to get and keep 
a fresh sense of his mercy on my soul, and a greater 
sense yet of my sin. I resolve to set myself against 
my sin with sdl my might, and not take its part, or 
extenuate it, or keep the devil'fi counsel, as 1 have 
done, to the wronging of God, and the woundinig of 
my own soul. I resolve by God's assistance to set 


upon the practice of known duty, and not to study 
shifts and evasions to put off those which are either 
troublesome, chargeable, or likely to render me dis- 
honourable and vile in the eyes of the carnal persons 
of the world. And this 1 do upon these considera- 
tions, and for these reasons : 

^^ (1.) My life hath been a life of great mercy. 
God hath preserved it more than this once, and h&th 
done exceeding great things for me, which engageth 
me more than many others, though all rational crea- 
tures are obliged to live to God their Maker. 

''(2.) God hath not only given me life, but in 
some measure ability and opportunity to do him ser- 
vice 'j yea, and already some encouragement in . the 
hopes of the success of some of my poor endeavours. 
(/ suppose on some of her servants. J 

'^ (3.) God hath more engaged me to himself, by 
taking me into his family> and planting me in his 
garden;:and watering me with the dew from heaVen. 
He hath set me in a fruitful soil : he hath given me 
the high privilege of a part in the hearts and prayers 
of his people -, and I may say that I live to speak it, 
that God is a God hearing prayerti, and hath heard 
and answered them. Though the tempter be busy 
to make me think diminutively of this mercy, yet I 
must not, but must acknowledge the greatness of it. 
*' (4.) As all these and more engagements are upon 
me, so I am already engaged by the baptisnial cove- 
nant to God the Father, Son, and Holy. Ghost, as my 
God and chief good, and only happiness, and as my 
Redeemer, Hec^d; and Husband, and as my Sanctifier 
and Comforter; and I. have renewed it in the sacra- 
ment of the Lord's-supper 5 and how can I go back 
that have thus far engaged myi^elf, and daily receive 


from God more obligations } Ye&, God will expect 
ttuite from me than from many others. Let me 
therefore see that I be in good earnest with God> and 
think not to put him off with hypocrisy 5 let me not 
deceive myself, for God will hot be mocked 3 what 1 
sow^ I shall reap : If I belong to God^ though I suffer 
whilst I am in the body> they will be but light afflic- 
tions^ and but for a moment; but the everlasting 
kingdom will be mine inheritance 3 and when this 
life is ended^ I shall reign with Christ 3 I shall be 
freed from sin and sufferings and for ever r^oice with 
saints and angels. But should I prove an hypocrite, 
I lode my labour, I lose my God, and damnation with 
devils and damned ones will be my reward for ever, 
and this the greater as my mercies have been abun- 
dant and great. 

''Therefore I here desire this day to renew my co- 
venant with God, and to beg the prayers of this peo- 
ple that God will not leave me to myself, but help 
me, by the sufficient grace of Christ, tQ keep the co- 
venant which I have made. And I intend to keep 
this paper by me, to help to remember me and 
quicken me to duty, and hinder me from sin, and en- 
courage me to go on cheerfuUy against temptation/s, 
looking stiU to Christ, who forsaketh npt those that 
by faith and re]pentance come to him. 

'' To all this let me add these considerations of the 
vanity of the creature, and of all false hopes. 

''It is contrary to the nature of the creature to be 
our peace -, they are our discomforts and troubles, 
further than they help to lead us to the Creator. 
Let me not forget the time when I seemed near death : 
What comfort had I then in creatures ? What ease 
from them? Was not all my hope in God? AU 

14 MEMOIBS 09 

creatures shewed me that side on which vanity was 
written, and they had nothing which could satisfy 
my soul 5 though I had as much mercy in means and 
friends as I could possibly desire, yet all this was no- 
thing to me 5 the trouble of parting with them was 
much more than the comfort of enjoying them 5 and 
so it will be with me still : which should teach me to 
keep my heart loose from the creature, and not over- 
love any thing on this side heaven. Why should my 
heart be fixed where my home is not } Heaven is my 
home i God in Christ is all my happiness ; and 
where my treasure is, there my heart should be. 
Come away, O my heart, from vanity ; mount hea- 
venward, and be not dead, or dull, if thou wouldst 
be free from tn^uble, and taste of real joy and plea- 
sure. Hath not experience yet taught thee, that 
creature-comforts, though they may be roses, have 
their pricks ? Canst not thou be content to look on 
them, and smell them at a distance, and covet no 
other use while thou art in the garden where they 
^row, and be content to leave them there behind 
thee } If thou must needs have them in thy bosom, 
thou must scratch thy fingers to get them ^ and when 
thou hast them, though the smell awhile delight 
thee, they will quickly wither, and are gone. Away 
then, O my carnal heart, retire to God, the only sa- 
tisfying object. There mayest thou love without all 
danger of excess ! Let thy love to God be fixed and 
transcendent. Amen." « 

4. Though these were the strivings of her heart 
towards Grod, her fears and troubles did not so pass 
away y ^ttled peace of 8*oul doth seldom come quick- 
ly to young converts, though their sincere resolutions 


may be settled. I find among her papers yet more 
of that day's work^ upon her after-examination and 
review. Bear with the lengthy if I transcribe it as I 
find it under her hand. 

*' Christ saith. In the world you shall have trouble, 
in me you shall have peace. Something of both now 
I find at this time. This nighty after returning thanks 
to God Ibr my recovery^ I fi&d my heart sad^ and 
trouble upon my spirits *, and well it may be so ; 
for the sins of this day have been very great : my 
heart hath not answered the expressions of thanks 
which have been uttered i>y the mouths of tiiose that 
spake them to God. No> no^ my heart hath not stir- 
red, and been drawn out tbwards my God ! The 
thoughts of his love have hot ravished my soul. Alas ! 
I scarce felt any holy spark to warm my soul this day. 
This day, which was a day of the greatest mercy of 
any in all my life 5 the day in which I have had an 
opportunity to give thanks fbr all the mercies of my 
life^ and thanks itself is a greater mercy than the 
rest : all other mercies are to prepare for this : thik 
is the work of a glorified saint, even a saint in hea- 
ven before the blessed &ce of God: it is his ever- 
lasting business to sing the songs of thanksgiving 
and praise to the Most High. But my thoughts 
have not been filled with the sweet foretastes of this 
blessed work, which I might have had this day ! O 
God, I beseech thee foigive my sin, and lay not my 
deadness to my charge, but overlook all my trans- 
gressions, and look on me in Jesus Christ my Sa- 
viour. I am thine. Lord, and not mine own : this 
day I have under my hand and seal^ in the presence 
of witnesses, nay in thine own presence (who art 
witness sufficient, were there no eye to see me, or ear 


to hear me). Thou Lord^ that ktiowest all things, 
knowest that I have deyoted my all to thee : take it, 
and accept my saciifioe : help me to pay my vows !^ 

* la the preface to a little volume of Poetical Fragments, 
published by Mr. Baxter in 1689 » and which it appears he 
wrote principally on account of his wife, before their marriage, he 
thiis speaks : ' Ood having taken away the dear companion of the 
last nineteen years of my life, as her sufferings and sorrows long ago 
gave bemg to some of these Fo^ms (for reasons which the world is 
not concerned to know), so my grief for her removal, and the re- 
vived sense of former things, have prevailed with me to publish 
them.' He farther observes in a note at the end of the following 
Poem : ' This covenant my dear wife in her former sickness sub- 
scribed with a cheerful will.' In it she solemnly dedicates herself 
and all she possesses to her Divine Lord and Master; -and it ap- 
pears by her subsequent life that she never lost sight of-this act of 
solemn dedication to God. John xu. 96. 


' My whole, though broken heart, O Lord ! 

From henceforth shall be thine ! 
And here I do mj tow record : 

This hand, these words are mine. 
All that I have, without reserve, 

I offer here to thee : 
Thy will and honour all shall serve. 

That thou bestow'dst on me. 
All that exceptions save I lose : 
' All that I lose I save : 
The treasure of thy love I choose ; 

Atid TIiou art all I crave. 
My God, thou hast my heart and hand : 

I all to thee resign. 
I'll ever to this covenant standi 

Though flesh hereat repine. 
I know that thou wast willing first; 

And then madV me consent: 
Having thus lov'd me at the worst, 

Thou wilt not now repent. 


Wilt thou not accept me because I do it not more 
sincerely and believingly } ■ O Lord^ I unfeijE^edly 
desire to do it aright ! 6 ! wilt thou strengthen my 
weak desires ! I believe^ Lord help my unbelief. 

Now I have quit all K^'preLencef 

Take charge of what's thine own. 
My life, my health, and my defence. 

Now lie on thee alone. 
Now it bel(»igs not to my care, 

Whelher I die or live : 
To love and serve thee is my share : 

And this thy grace must give. 
If life be long, T will be glad, 

That I may long obey : 
If short, yet why should I be sad. 
That shall have the same pay. 
If Death shall bruise this springing seed. 

Before it come to fruit ; 
The will with thee goes for the deed ; 

Thy life was in the root. 
Long life is a long grief and toil. 

And multiplieth faults: 
In long wars he may have the foil. 

That scapes in short assaults. 
Would I long bear my heavy load ? 

And keep my sorrows long ? 
Would I long sin against my God ? 

And his dear mercy wrong ? , 
How m«ch is sinful flesh my foe. 

That doth my soul pervert \ 
To linger here in sin and woe. 

And steals from God my heart? 
Christ leads me through no darker rooms 

Than he went through before : 
He that into God's kingdom comes. 

Must enter by this door. 
Come Lord, when grace hath made me meet, 
Thy blessed face to see : 


Thou that canst make me what I am not> O make 
me what thou wouldst have me be ! In thee there 
iff all fulness^ and to thee I desire to come by Christ. 
Wilt thou now cast me off, because I do it not unre» 
servedly ? Lord, I confess the devil tempteth, and 
the flesh saith. Spare something : what ! let all go 9 
And I find in me a carnal, selfish principle, ready to 
close with the temptation. But thou canst prevent 
and conquer all, and speak death to these corruptions, 
and bid the tempter be gone. It is thy pleasure here 
to suffer thy deaif children to be tempted ^ but suffer 
not temptations to prevail against thy Spirit and 
grace. If temptation be like a torrent of water, to 
smother, quench, or hide the flame, yet wilt thou ne- 
ver let all the sparks of thy grace be put out in the 
soul where once thou hast truly kindled it. But, 
Lord, suffer not such floods to fall on my soul, 
where the spark is so small already, that it is even 
scarce discernible ! O quicken it, and blow it up to a 
holy flame : most gracious God ! O do it here, who 
hast done it for many a soul I O what have I said ! 
That I have a spark of grace ! Why the least spark 
is worth ten thousand times more thanks than I can 
ever express ! And I have been dead and unthank- 
ful, as is before confessed ! And is that a sign of 

For if thy work on earth be sweet. 

What will thy glory be ? 
Then I shall end ray sad complaints. 

And weary, sinful days ; 
And join with the triumphant saints, 

That sing Jehovah's praise. 
My knowledge of that life is small ; 

The eye of faith is dim : 
Bat if s enough that Christ knows all ; 

And I shall be with him.'' 


grace ! Unthankful^ dead^ and dull 1 have been^ and 
still am } but yet it tumst needs be from God's gift in 
me, that I have any dea^s after him y and that fhls 
day! have de^ed to devote myself to Mm/ and that 
I can say I wotdd be more holy^ and more heavenly^ 
even as the Lord would have me be. Nay, I do 
Icnow the time when I had none of these desires, and 
had no mind to God, and the ways of godliness 5 and 
do I not know that there be many in this condition, 
Who hav e no desired after Christ and holiness ? Here 
theti is matter of comfort given me ftx>m him that 
doth accept the desires of his poor creatures, even the 
Lord Christ, who will not quetich the smoking flax, 
nor break the bruised reed. I see then that 1 have 
yet matter of rejoicing, and must labour to be so 
humbled for my remaining sins, as may tend to my 
future joy in believing 5 but not so as to be discou- 
raged and frightened from God, who is longsuffer* 
ing and abundant in mercy.. Rouse up thyself then 
to God^, my soul 3 humbly, but believingly repent 
that thou hast been so unthankful, and insensible of 
the benefits this day received : Up, up, and lie not 
down so heavily ; God hafth heard prayers for thee, 
and given thee life and opportunity to serve him. 
He hath given thee all the outward mercies thy heart 
can desire. He hath given thee dea^f, godly, able 
friends, such as can help thee in the way to heaven 5 
yea, he hath set than to beg spiritual mercies for 
thee, TV ho prevailed for temporal for thee, and oft for 
many others; why then sfaoisldst thou not wateh 
and pray, and wait in hope that he hath heard their 
prayers this day for thy soiil, as formerly for thy 
foody ? They are things commanded of God to be 
asked j and we have his promise, that seeking we 


shall find. It may be this night many of God's dear 
children will yet pray for my soul 3 I doubt not some 
will ; and shall I not be glad of such advantage ? I 
faetod this day that I must not forbear thanks, because 
the mercies are yet invpetfecl (else we should never 
give thanks on earth). Though therefore my grace 
be yet but a sparky and weak^ my body weak, my 
heart sad ; all these administer matter of thanks and 
praise, as well as of sufyplication. Let me therefore 
keep close to both, they being the life of my life 
while I live here; and having daily need of supply 
from God, let me daily be with him, and live as in 
his presence : let him be the chief in all my thoughts, 
my heart and life. And let me remember to be ear- 
nest for my poor relations, and dear friends, and the 
church and people of God in general. And let me 
strive to keep such a moderate sense of sorrow on 
my soul, as occasion requireth. 1 have now cause 
of sorrow for parting with my dear friends, my fa- 
ther, my pastor. He is by Providence called away, 
and going a long journey : what the Lord will do 
with him, I cannot foresee ; it may be he is preparing 
some great mercy for us, and for his praise } I know 
not but such a day as this may be kept here on his 
account.. The will of the Lord be done, for he is 
wise and good 5 we are his own, let him do with us 
what he pleaseth ^ all shall be for good to them that 
love God. I have cause to be humbled that I have 
been so unprofitable under mercies and means 5 it 
may grieve me now he is gone, that there is so little 
that came from him left upon my soul. O let tbis> 
quicken and stir me up to be more diligent in the 
use of all remaining helps and means. And if ever 
I should enjoy this mercy again, O let me make it 


appear that this n^lit I was. aensiMe of my negleeC 
of it. 

^' And now here is comfort^ that I have to deal 
with a God of mercy that will hear a poor repenting^ 
sinner j a God that will in no wise cast out those 
that come to him> hut loveth whom he loveth, to the 
end. This is the God whom I have chosen and taken 
for my portion 5 the same God is his God, his guide 
and comforter. The whole world is hut a house 
where God*s children dwell a little while, till he hath 
Atted them for the heavenly mansions $ and if he 
send ihera out of one room into another to do his 
woiic, and try their obedience ; and if he put some 
in the darkest corners of his house, to keep them 
humble, though he separate those that are most be- 
loved of each other, it is but that they may not love 
so much as to be loath to part and come to him who 
should have all their love. However it fareth with 
his children in this house (or howling wilderness), the 
time will come, and is at hand, when all the chil* 
dren shall be separate from the rebels, and be called 
home to dwell with their Father, their Head and 
Husband; and the eleqt shall all be gathered into 
one. Then farewell sorrow, fiBirewell hard heart! 
farewell tears and sad repentance ! And then Uessed 
saints that have believed and obeyed ! never so un-» 
worthy, crovnied thou must be! This was the pnH 
ject of redeeming love ! When the Lord shall take 
our carcases from the grave, and make us shine as 
the sun in glory, then, then shall friends meet and 
never part, and remember their sad and weary nights 
and days no more! Then may we love freely! 
What now is wanting to dispel all sorrow from m^ 


hmili Nothing but the greater hopes that I ahall 
be one of this number. This, this can do it. No 
matter if I had no firiend near me> and none on earth ; 
if God be not &r from me, it is wdl enough ; and 
whatever here befels the church and people of God^ 
it is but as for one day, and presently the stomt will 
be all over. Let me theiefore cast all my care on 
God : Let me ^9a& on. him in the way of duty, and 
trust him : Xet me run with padence the race that 
is set before me, looking to Jesus, the Author and 
Finisher of my faith, and faeiievingly go to him in aU 
my troubles 3 and let me so labour here, that I may 
find rest to my soul in the rest that remaineth for the 
people of God. 

'^Rest! O sweet word! -The weary shall have 
rest, they shall rest in the Loid. 

*' April 10, on Thursday night at twelve of the 
clock 3 a day and night never to be foigottoi by the 
leatt of all GodHs mercies,, yea, less than the l^aet. 
Thy umoorthy, wtthanJsfiU,and hard'hearied creature, 


5. Is not here in all these papers (which I saw not 
till she was dead) a great deal, of work for one day, 
besides ail the public work of a thaaksgiving-day ? 
If I should give you an account of all her following 
twenty-one years, what a volume would it amount 
to ! If you ask why I recite eXL this, which Is hut 
matter well known to cnrdinary Christians ; I anawsr, 
1. It is net as matter of knsmledge, but of sauU 
i0or^^9 towa^s God. 2. Is not this extfaoodiaary 
in a convert of a year, or few moatla standing \ ift. 
The love of God> and her, makes me think it worth 
the publishing ; they that think otherwise may pas« 


it by ; but there are souls to whom it will be 8|ivoi|ry 
and profitable. 

6. Yet she continued ui)der great fears^ thi^t ihe 
had not saving grace^ because she had not |;hat .de« 
gree.of holy affection wluch she desired : and before 
in her sickness^ her fears increased her disease and 
danger. I will here for the u$e of others in the like 
case> recite some scraps of a letter of counsel^ as I 
find them transcribed by herself. 

*' X ^vise you U> set more effectually to the iiaeans 
of your necessary consolation -, your stnuigi^ sil^^t 
keeping your case to yourself, from your motlier laj^d 
all your friends^ is an exceeding injury to your peace. 
Is it God or Satan that hindereth you from pp^ing 
your sore^ and make you think that concealment ^ 
your wisdom ^ If it be pride that forbids It^ how 
dare you obey such a commander ? Many of our 
sores are half healed wlftn well opened : if prudence 
foresee some forbidding inconvemence> you have 
prudent friends^ and two prudent persons. may see 
more than one. But because you will not t^ us^ 
I will disjunctively tell it you. 

'^ 1. Your trouble of soul is eit^r spm^.qffUetim' 
2. Or> some sm. 3. Or the doubt :of yi^ur sincerify 
and true grace. 

'^I. If it be affliction, dare you so ind^ge, impa- 
tience^ as to conclude against your future coinforts^ 
while you have God's love and title to salvation I 
Dare you say that these are of so small weight; that 
a cross like yours will weigh them ^w^ } and that 
you ynm not rejoice in $dl the promi^esof life et^na^ 
tUl your cross be removed } 

'<II. If itbeaifi, it is either pa^t or fufesent: if 


past^ why do you not repent^ and thankfully accept 
your pardon ? If present, it is inward corruption, or 
outward transgression. Whichever it be^ if you loYe 
it, wiij do you grieve for it, and groan under it ? If 
you grieve for it, why are you not willing to leave 
It, and be holy ? If you are willing to leave it, and 
would fain have God*s grace in the use of his means, 
to make you holy, this is the true nature of repen- 
tance. And why then are you not thankful for grace 
received, for pardon, adoption, and your part in 
Christ, more than you are troubled for remaining 
sin ■} Should none rejoice that have sin to trouble 
them, and keep them in a daily watch and war? 
Read Rom. vii and viii. if you will seethe contrary : 
If any. man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, 
Jesus Christ the righteous, and he is the propitiation 
for our sins. Dare you reflise your comforts on such 
reasons as would deny comfort to all the world? 
He that saith he hath no sin is a liar. And will you 
for this deny the known duty of thianks and praise for 
all that you have received ? You have been taught 
to difference between cause of doubting, and cause 
f^ filial humiliation. And if it were any particular 
sin that needs particular help and counsel, why do 
you riot open it for help, which it is probable would 
do more against it, than many years* secret trouble 
and dejection alone would do. 

'' III. If it be doubts of your sincerity and grace, 
why do you refuse to reason the case, and say what 
it is^that persuadeth you that you are graceless, that 
we may try it by the Word of God ? What evidence 
is it that you want ? You have confessed that some- 
times you are convinced of sincerity 5 and can you 
80 easily deny what you have found, as to conclude 


yourself so miserable as you do ? Should all do thus 
that have not eonsti^nt apprehensions of their evi- 
dence^ and whose assurance is hindered by imperfec- 
tions.? You have heard the contrary. 

** But suppose that you have yet no saving grace 
or part in Christy why stand you complainings whilst 
Christ stands entreating you to accept his mercy ? 
Is he not in good earnest ? The offer is free \ it is 
not your purchase and merit, but consent, that will 
|)roye your title. Why do you complain, and not con" 
^ent even to the baptismal covenant ? Or if you con- 
sent, why do you complain as if Christ's promise 
were not true, or as if consent were not a proof of 
saving faith ? If you confess that you should not 
doubt and be dejected on such terms, methinks the 
«ure should be half wrought. Dare you indulge it 
while you know it to be your sin ? Have you not 
sin enough already ? And is it not unkindness to 
deny so great a mercy as the converting grace which 
you so lately felt, and to suspect his love who is love 
itself, and hath so largely expressed his love to you ? 
Would you easily believe that your mother would kill 
you for such defects as you fear that God wiU damn 
you for^ Yea, though she were perfectly just and 
holy ? Is it congruous to hear ministers tell men 
Irom Christ, l^t he beseecheth them to be recon- 
eiled to God, and will revise none that are willing of 
his grace and cure -, and at the same time to hear 
such as you almost ready to despair, as if God would 
not be reconciled, nor give grace to them that fain 
would have it, but wall be inclined to rcjiect humbled 
souls :? 

'^ Reason not for your distrustful fears and sor- 
rows, but still disown them and accuse thein^ an4 



then they will vanish by degrees and die : yea^ then 
you will sure oppose them yourself^ and Godwin 
help yQU. Can yon look that God should help you 
against the sin which you plead for, and de^nd> 
If faith and love be the vital graces^ distrust of God> 
and denying his love^ must not be defended as no' Sin. 
As the ungodly cannot expect the grace whidi l^hey 
ref use> so how can you expect the -^iace ^^ch you 
oppose, andsayasPsal.lxxvii; ^mulrefuseth to 
be comforted: and say of your pasdonate fear and 
grief, as Jonas of his angelr, l^iowellio be mgry, 
even unto death. Be convin^ tbM Christ is yours, 
if you accei^t hita and eoiMSient ; and ^3f^ that com- 
fort is your interest, right and ^uty;atid then y6u 
will do mttre to comfort yourself, dian I am endea- 
vouring when I chide you for your fears. Siire sin- 
ful sorrow is no desirdble thi^, nor to be pleaded 
for 5 you durst do nothing to the mulrder of a friend, 
no, nor to his grief 3 and you are bid to love your 
neighbour as yourself. Away then with your weak- 
ening grirfs and troubles, lest they prove a degree of 
self-murder. If you Care for ydurs^, the comfort 
of your mother and friends, and l^e honour of the 
unspeakable riches of God's graice, at least own it to 
be your duty to oppose sinfid'fear, and'to rejoice in 
God, and Serve him with delight and dieerful prtases, 
and do yo^r best ags^nst till that isagdnst this duty. 
Arid suflfer not ^our • «ore to fester by your silence j 
btit bpenydurcasetiaPsome one that is able to help 
/you impartially to try it by the Word of God, and to 
pray with^ito that Otfd will merciMly discover your 
infirmities, and the remedy. It were but wisdom to 
conceal your case fhim ' ofliers, if you can well be 
cured' iftithottt their help." 


7, Some strivkigs against her fears and aocrows I 
&id JMssLt in -this fatper -Mloudng^ dated :by her^ 
April 3. 

'^ The sadder my present condition is^ the greater 
is the mercy that I am yet alive : why then should I 
not give God thanks for that^ and beg which 
yet I want ? And ihoi^ my life^seem but a burden 
to me sometimes^ it is my great mistake 5 for A» 
^^eatest afflictions ave nothing to hell-*torments : 
were they as gveat as ever any had 5 while Ivamidive 
on this side eternity^ there is h(^. The time .of 
grace is yet continued ^ if I be found in mercy's way^ 
1 know not but God may yet be gracious^ and give 
in^y soul as he hath done my life at his people's 
prayers ^ for I cannot but look on my life as an an- 
swer to their prayers. And sure they desired my 
life only that I might live to God. I desired it my- 
self on no other terms. It was my earnest request 
that I might not live> if not to him. Why then 
shotdd I be persuaded by ^atan to think that Go^ 
will not give me grace as well as life ? ' May I not 
rather be encouraged with patience to wait for fur- 
ther mercy ? It is a mercy that I am in any mea- 
sure sensible of my danger, and have any desire to 
be holy. I will therefore stir up my soul to thankf ul- 
ness> and be humbled that I can be no more thank*- 
ful. I will acknowledge the mercy I have received^ 
and the probability of future mercy: and this by 
God's assistance the devil shall not hinder me from 

8. I will add one of her papers, containing her re- 
solutions after her recovery, in some few particulars. 


'^ December 30, was my worst day ; I did not then 
think to be alive this day ; I ought not to fbi^t it. 
On January I, New-Year^s-day, I iirst bled at the 
nose largely^ and after mended. The fourth day was 
kept in humiliation for me. April 10^ was a day of 

'^ When I thought I should die^ I was more than 
ordinarily sensible of my unprofitable life 5 and had 
such convictions as usually people in my condition 
have ; and I then made many resolutions as in such 
cases others do. I remembered that I had heard 
much of the promises that many made in sickness^ 
which they never performed j and I thought it was 
gross hypocrisy to speak now of that which I was 
past performing (as I thought) -, but that I were bet- 
ter write down my purposes^ and discover them if 
God recovered me> that they might be as strong an 
eigagement on me^ as if I had spoken them to men.i^ 

* The following Poem is another of tho$e written by Mr. Bax- 
ter for the comfort and encouragement of hu afflicted friend, 
taken from tbe Poetical Fragments. It contains a lively description 
of her state of mind at this period, and points out the progress of 
her Christian experience, commencing with a penitent confession of 
her sinful nature ; her ^ncere repentance and earnest desire for 
God's pardoning love and mercy through Christ Jesus ; her prayer 
40 be enabled to keep her covenant (before alluded tp) ; and at 
last to triumph over death and the grave. It is here given at length. 



The First Part. 
'Eternal God, whose name is Love : 

"^Vhose mercy is my hope and stay ; . 
P hear jand help me from above, 

Th^t in distress to thee do pray* 


^^ I. I resolTed that I would endeavour td g6t and 
keep a sense of that grdat mercy of God's restoring 
me from the peril of threatened deaths in answer to 
prayer -, which was the greater^ in that God threat^ 

Ashamed to lift tip my face, 

Henoe from the dost to thee I cry i 
Tfaoagh I have sinn'd against thy grace^ 

Yet unto it alone I fly. 
I Was at first in sin toncdv'd, - 

Then liv'd a vain and sinfiil life : 
Bebellioiis fiesh which I received 

Is still agunstthy grace in strife. 
Long it was. Lord, alas, too long. 

Before I Imew myself or thee : 
Vanity ml'd my heart and tongue i 

And O that yet my soul weilB free ! 
But while I sinned thou wast kind. 

And sent'stthy word and spirit of graces 
Thy tight did change my darkened mind. 

And shewed me my wretched case. 
Though I drew hack, thou didst prevail : 

And I gave up myself to thee. 
Thou imdertook'st for wind and sail ; 

Both ship and pilot thou wooldst he. 
I tum'd my back on worldly toys; 

And set my face towards glory's shore; 
Where ihott hast promis'd highest joys, 

And blessediiess for evermore. 
I took my leave of sin and earth ; 

What I had lovM, 1 now did hate : 
Ashamed of my former birth, 

I gave my life a newer date. 
But since that time how I am tost ? 
Afraid of every storm and wave : 
Almost concluding I am lost. 
As if thou wouldst not help and save. 


ened to take mt henee when I wis but ta the hirth^ 
and had scarce Wdl begun to live. Tbis mercy 1 
promfsed to hid thanklol £ov, and. to adcnowk^ge 
other mercieff as God sboitid make me iMe. 

If i look out bejond thine ark, 

Nothing b«t ragmg seas I see : 
On ihis side heav'n aR's d«ep and dark i 

Batt look further unto thee. 
Censures, and scorns, and frowns I bear t 

Storms which before I never found ; 
And yet al] these I should' not fear. 

If all at home were safe and sound. 
But thy dbpleasure wounds my heart : 
I have but two parts, flesh and soul r 
Both of thy wrath do bear their part ;• 
iind thou hasf left me neither whole* 
The Seamd Part, 
' All this is just. Lord, I confess i 

I staid too long ere T came in : 
And how should healing grace do less. 

When I brovgbt with me so much sin ^ 
Much pride and vanity I kept : 

Too oft my heart was looking back : 
Though God stood by me, yet I slept : 
Heav'n was at hand ; yet I grew slack.. 
Spare Lord, and pity thy poor dust ! 

That fled into thy ark for peace! 
O cause my soul on thee to trust ( 

And do not my distress increase; 
O keep up life and peace within ! 

If I must feel thy chastening rod F 
Yet kill not me^ but kill my sin; 

And let me know, thou art my God. 
Folly dwelt in my childish breast ; 

Sin robb'd me of my youthful days;* 
Let not thy wrath cut off the rest. 
And stifle thine intended praise* 


** U. I reoolyed tto* I would eadjBiivour t& be in.a 
fixed 9^.9^ 9ad way of duly \ and, in oxA&t to this I 
iBTQuld' take, adyiee of one who is> I conoeLve^ most 
fit to advise me; A^d I resohre by God's assiataefie^ 

Whilst I forgot t)ie«, tfaoo didst Ixear : 

Thy kindness did invite ne home : 
O rack me not with grief and fear ! 

Kill me not Lord, now I am come. 
The silent dust epeaks not thy fame^ 

Kor in dark graves art thoa rax>wn*d t 
The liTUig saints declare thy name. 

And In thy church thy pnusea sound. 
Yet let me with thy household dwell; 

Though I be numbered with thy poor t 
And with thy saints thy wonders tell. 

Although I rit b^ind thy door. 
Set not thy strength against frail man ! 

O turn not yet tins £esh to clay t 
My life, thou know'st, is but a span, 

If I should see the longest day. 
Break me not all to pieces. Lord ; 

Or else let each piece hare a tongue* 
To cry, till thou relief afford. 

But not to say, thou dost me wrong. 
Pity this poor unworthy soul, 

That here devotes itself to thee : 
Resolve my doubts ; my fears control j 

And let me thy salvation see. 
O let that love which gave rae groans. 

And taught roy needy soul to pray,. 
Remove my fears, and hear the moans 

Wluch sorrow breathes forth night and day. 
The Third Part. 
Why art thoUj^ fainting soul, cast down. 

And thus disquieted with fears ? 
Art thou not passing to thy crown. 

Through storms of pain, and floods of tears! 


that I wiH not consult with flesh aad bloody nor study 
my carnal interest, but resolvedly set on the way of 
my duty, and fredy discourse my thoughts, so far as 
is requisite to my just advice. And that I witt speak 

Fear not> O tliou of fittie &ith ! 

Art thon not in tliy Savioor's hand? 
Remember what his promise suth : 

Life and death are at his command* 
To him I did myself intrust, 

When first I did for heav'n embark : 
And he hath proved kind and just : 

Still I am with him in his ark. 
Couldst thou expect to see no seas. 

Or feel no tossing wind or wave I 
It is enough that from all these 

Thy faithful Pilot will thee save. 
Lord, let me not my covenantbreak t 

Once I did' all to thee resign : 
Only the words of comfi>rt speak. 

And tell my soul that lam tlUne» 
It's no death when souls hence depart> 

If thou depart not from the soul : 
Fill with thy love ihy fainting heart. 
And ru not faduig flesh omdole. 
Health is but sickness with thy frowns : 

life with thy wrath is worse than death 
My comforts thy displeasure drowns-; 

And into groans tunes all my breath'. 
Where is that faith, and hope, and love,. 
By which thou markest all thy saints? 
Thy joys would all my grief remove. 

And raise this heart that daily faints. 
Am I the Jonas ? dost thou mean 
To cast me out into the deep ? 
It shall not drown, but make me clean : 
Until thou raise me, there IMI sleep. 


my reasons and heart-risings against any thing that 
is propounded to me, which I judge unmeet. And I 
resolved when I saw my dnty^ cheerfully to do it^ 
and keep a sense of the sweetness and ohligations of 
God*s love and mercy. 

*' ni. I resolved to pray and labour fcM* a true 
sense of the sins of this nation in general 5 and in 
particular of the sins of my relations^ and of my 
own. And that till it please God to give me cause of 
rejoicing on the behalf of my relations^ and of my 
own soal*s recovery and spiritual welfare^ I will con- 
tinue with humiliation to supplicate the Lord. And 
though I would not shut out a greater duty by a les- 
ser^ yet I will avoid all manner of feastings as much 
as I wdl can^ and all noxious^ sensual delights ; and 
when I mustiie present, I will use some mortifying 
restraint. And this I would do in my habit, and all 
other things, but titat I woiild lay no snare on my- 
self, by renotmdng what occasions, may oblige me 
to 3 but by all means I would strive to keep upon 

■ ■■ *■■!■ ■■ —■ 11. *— .^M^^^— ^M^it !■■■■■■ ■ ■ mm mt0> i^i ■i- ■■■■■■ i 

O death ! where is thy poisonous sting ! 

grave ! where is thy victory ? 
Thy dust shall shortly rise and sing 

God's pruse above the starry sky. 
My God, my love, my hope, my life ! 

Shall I be loath to see thy face ^ 
As if this world of sin and strife, ^ 

Were for my soul a better place ^ 
O give my soul some sweet foretaste^ 

Of that which I shall shortly see t 
Let faith and love cry to the last. 

Come Lord, I trust tnyseifwith tKee. 
John xi. 14, or 16. 
let not unbelieving Thomai words 
Be now my awwer : but my dearest Lord's. Amen.' 

c 2 


my heart a sense of my friends' danger and my own. 
''IV. I resolve^ if Providence coneur^ to go tcr 
London as soon as I can after the day of thanksgiv- 
ukg, for the reasons mentiotted in another pl»ce** 

9. What these reasons were, I find not. This fbl- 
k>wii^ fragment of hers, hints something of it. 

'' Ibegin already to be aensiblie of my misusing the 
helpB which God had given me; I know now how 
I should love ordinances and means of grace> and to 
what end ; not to break my heart when Providettce 
removeth them fix>m me, or ne fit»m them ; but 1 
^ould love them for God, and «se them for him> 
and expect my greatest coonfert from him, and not 
from men and means themselves : tKus is no more 
than what I thought I had known long ago, but I 
never knew it indeed. till now. And now I do but 
begin to know it. When I felt my heart ready to 
sink under a burden of sorrow, God was pleased to 
ask me what I ailed* Was my condition worse than 
ever ? Had I less hopes of his love than heretofore > 
If not, why do I mourn more than when I lay under 
that curse I What l& it that I have chosen for my 
hope and happiniess ? Is that lost and gone? Am I 
left in such a place or case as God cannot be fdund 
in if I truly seek him 3 or that Grod cannot sweeten 
with his presence ? If not, why do I not contentedly 
thank God for what I have already had ? I cannot 
say it is better that I had never had it, than now to 
leave it : no, I must be willing to submit to God, 
and be humbled in the sense of my abuse of mercy, 
so far as it may quicken me to diligence for the time 
to come. And if ever God more trust me with such 

trea^ur^ 9^^ oactei | ^94{ I ^iU ^^v^ tQ M^ew that I 
better know the worth of it i\t9fk I did l^qre. My 
thoughts often tell me^ that if I were but in a condi- 
tion in which I \iaA opportunity to serve God with 
more cost to the flesh them I here do^ it would either 
shew my hypocrisy^ or give me more assuring evi^ 
dence that I am indeed sincere." 

10. And it i^ imsefal note that I find added to this 
by her. 

''If my trouble be for my sin, (1.) My care wiM 
be more for the removing of my sin, than of the af- 

'* (2.) And if God ^ould take away the afliiction, 
it would not content me, unlesd sin be taken away, 
and my heart amended. 

'' (3.) If it be sin that I am troubled for, it will be 
my great care not to sin in my trouble. 

*' (4.) And if it be my sin that troi;blet|^ n^e, I have 
the more cause to subQiit tp God's handj f^^ silently 
bear the piynishmeat of my iniquity | it shameth 
murmuring, when we truly look on shi die cause, 
though it bring the wholesome sorrow of repentance. 

'' (5.) And if I mourn for fear lest God be depart- 
ing, I should seek him, apd cleave ii\^ closer to him, 
and not dispart &om God, and tbeo h^ will qot de- 
part from n^e.** 

11. I will conclude this chapter with a country 
poem of her honest kinsman Mr, Eleazer Careswell, 
of Skeffnall, in Shropshire :, whom I never knew to 
poetize but nfow that tender love and passion taught 
him 5 it signifleth thes^, though it want the flpwery 


part. Her danger of death so near to her conversion^ 
was very ^evous to him. 




Tns pradent soal refiaM from earth, doth ever 
' Arm to her later change, and fears it never. 
Those glittering roonarchs who seem to command 
This ball, shall be by death's impartial hand 
Put out, and doom'd to an eternal state, 
(No' mortal sinner can decline this fitte.) 
Death conquers sceptre-swajing kings; but I 
Shall conquer death, being now arm'd to die. 
Arm soul for this one change, and wed thy heart 
To Christ, and then no death shall ever part 
Your joined souls ; . and thou, because that He 
Hath life, of life shalt still possessed be. 
Death will but this snarl'd knot of life untie. 
To unite souls in a more blessed tie. 
When fiuth, renewing grace, repenting tears. 
Hath cleared the soul from filth, and she appears 
Unspotted, holy, pure, invested in 
Christ's milk-white snowy robes, quite freed from sin. 
\ Wholly deliver'd from this fleshly thrall. 

And hell's black monarch, and'adom'd with all 
God*s perfect grace : triumphantly these smg. 
Death and hell conquered are by Christ our King. 
Faith, hope, and love, such souls now fortify. 
And armed thus, why should we fear to die ? 
Tho' death divorce those long-acquainted friends. 
And lodge earth in the earth ; the soul ascends 
To those high, glorious regions, where she 
With Christ and blessed souls shall ever be. 
Soul-troubling sin shall then molest no more, 
Wbioh clogg'd, which wounded her so long before. : 


l^oor souls go fetter'd here with flesh and sfai. 

Death doth her great deliTemnce begin. 

Thy soul renew'd by grace, shall quickly see 

How blest a change that day will bring to thee. 

Death shall those weeping eyes dry up and close, 
- And pained weary flesh to rest repose. 

The grave will be a safe and quiet bed, 

To that frail body when the sonl is fled. 

This aching head shall there be laid to rest. 

Whilst thy glad soul of glory is possessed. 

As bamsh'd griefs end in that quiet sleep, 

Thy dost is holy, it thy Lord will keep 

Till the last trumpet sound; and he shall raise - 

The just and unjust at the last of days*. 

Then the refined body shall again 

Its late dislodged soul re-entertain; 

And re-united chant well- tuned lays 

Unto the Lamb, whose soul-enaraouring lays- 
Shall ravish saints with blessed, perfect joy; 
Sreed from whatever would their rest annoy. 
Where they with flaming love and pleasure sing 
Holy, roelodious praise to God their King, 
Rise then my soul ; thy thoughts from earth estrange ; 
The first is wrought, Arm to thy later change. 

Thus the good' man*s affections worked to prepare 
ids dear kinswoman for death ; but he died> and most 
of his, before her. 

CHAP, iv: 

Some Parcels of Counsel for her Deliverance from this 
distressed Case, which I find reserved by her for her 

I. WniiiB in her languishing, and after it, she was 
still cast down, condemned herself as a graceless 
wretch, and her good mother and friends afraid that 


her grief would increase her aicknees^ aa it did their 
sadness ; and yet she obstinately concealed it from 
b11> save a few sad complaints to one person, who 
wrote thereof some fragments which she extracted 
for her use; I shall here recite them for others that 
have the same fears, 

2. The miscarrii^ of a rdatioti trembling her, 
this was set down. 

'' When God hath done so much fpr you, will you 
leave it in the power of aa incoostaot creature to 
trouble you, and rdb you of your peace } Is the joy 
in the Holy Ghost so subject to the malice of your 
enemies, or the weakness of your friends P Delight 
yourself in an all-sufficient constant God, and he 
will be to you a sufficient, constant delight, and will 
give you the desires of your heart. I see you are yet 
imperfect in self-denial, while ymi are too sensible of 
unkindnesses and crosses from your friends, and bear 
them with too much passion and weakness : know 
you not yet what the creature is, and how little is to 
be expected from it? Do you not still reckon to 
meet with si^Lch infirmities in the best, as will be in- 
jurious to others, as they are troublesome to i^ifkr 
selves } It is God that we most wrong, and yet he 
beareth with us 5 and so must we with one another. 
Had you expected that creatures should deal as crea- 
tures, and sinners as sinners, how little of this kind 
of trouble had you fdt. Especially take heed of too 
much regard to matters of mere reputation, and the 
thoughts of men 3 else you are like a leaf in ^e wind 
that wQl have no rest. Look on man as nothing, 
and be content to approve yourself to God; and 
then so mudi honour as is good for you, will follow 


as the shadow. If every frailty and uiikiBdiiestf of 
the best friends miiat be your trouUe> it is to bt iiA« 
patient with the unavoidable pravity of mankind ; 
and you may as well grieve that they were bora in 
sin^ and made your acquaintance. And it should be 
used as a mercy to ke^ you fiom inordinate sffisc- 
tions to friends. It is a axercy to be driven fix>m 
creatureHTest^ ttxNigh it be by enemies. Keep a fixed 
af^reheasion of the inconsiderableness of all these 
little things that cross yoiij aadtum your eye to God> 
to Christy to heaven^ lh« things of unspeakable 
weighty and you will have bo room for these childish 

*' Yet turn not the discovery of this your weak* 
ness, into dejection, but amendment ; I perceive you 
are apter to hold to the saase of your own disteippen^ 
than to Ihink what counsel is given you against 

3. On another occasion she recorded these words^. 

"^How hard i« it to keep our hearts in going too 
far even in honest affections .toward the creature, 
' while we are so backward to love God> wh& should 
have all the heart, and soul, and might. Too strong 
love to any, though it be good in the kind, may be 
sinful and hurtful in the degree. L. It will turn too 
many of your thoughts from God, and they will be 
too oft runoing after the beloved creature. 2. And 
by tlus exercise of thoughts and affections on the 
creature, it may divert and cool your love to God, 
which will not be kept up, xmless our thoughts be 
kept more to him -, yea, though it be for his sake 
that you love them. 3. It will increase your suffer- 


ings, by interesting you in all the dangers and trou- 
bles of those whom you overlove." 

4. When she seemed to herself near death. 

^' You now see what the world and all its plea- 
sures are> and how it would have used you^ if you 
had had no better a portion, and God had not taught 
you a happier choice. Providence now tells you 
that they are vanity, and if overvalued, worse j but 
if you learn to see their nothingness, you will be 
above the trouble of losing them, as well as the 
snares of too delightful enjoying them. Pardon all 
injuries to men, and turn your thoughts from them, 
and keep your heart as near as possible to the heart 
of Christ, and live as in his arms, who is usually 
sweetest when the creature most faileth us, if we do 
hut turn our hearts from it to him." 

5. Another time. 

*^Can you find that you are resolvedly devoted to 
Christ, and yet doubt whether Christ be resolvedly 
and surely yours ? Are you more willing or more 
faithful than he >V 

Hence she gathered herself as followeth. 

'* When I read the evidence of my self-resignation 
to Christ, I should as it were see Christ standing 
over me with the tenderest care-, and hear him say, 
' / accept thee as my own,* For I must believe his 
acceptance, as I perform my resignation. O what is 
he providing for me ! What entertainment with 


kirn dhall I shortly fidd ! Not such as he found with 
man^ when he came to seek us -, it is not a manger^ 
a crown of thorns^ a cross, that hel is preparing for 
me : when I hare had my part of these in following 
him, I shall have my place in the glorious Jerusa- 

6. This fragment she wrote next. 

'^ For the sake of your own soul, and life, and 
friends, and for the honour of that tender mercy and 
free grace which you are bound to magnify, let 
not Satan get advantage against your peace and 
thankfulness to God, and the acknowledgment of hifr 
obliging love. Let him not on pretence of humilia-i 
tion, turn your eyes on a weak, distempered heart, 
from the unspeakable mercy which should fill your 
heart with love and joy, notwithstanding all your kt* 
mented infinnities. You perceive not that it is Satan 
that would keep you still under mournfiil sadness, 
under the pretence of repentance and godly sorrow. 
You are not acquainted with his wiks. You have 
cause of sorrow, but much more of joy. And your 
rejoicing in God's love would please him better than 
all your sad complaints* and troubles, though he des- 
pise not a contrite spirit. I charge it on your con- 
science, that when you are in prayer, you confess and 
lament your distrustful, suspicious, unthankful, un* 
comfortable thoughts, of God and Jesus Christ, more 
than all your want of sorrow for him . And you trou- 
ble yourself for such kind of sins, the honesty of whose 
occasion may give you more comfort than the fault 
doth sorrouf, I know we have not our comfort at 
command. But see that your endeavour and striving 

42 MBteoilts ot 

be more for a comfortable than for a somowfiil firame 

^ Two things I must Uemeyeu for, 1. That you 
take the imperfectioiis of your duties and obedienoe, 
to be greater reasons for discomfort, than the per- 
formance and sincerity are reasons for comfort ; as 
if you thought any thing were perfect here, or that 
it were better do nothing than do it imperfectly : or 
as if you would have no comfort till you can perform 
sueh duty and obedience as hath no need of pardon 
and a. Sayiour5 and wo no man living might have any 
comfort in anjr thing that he doth' 

*' 2. ThAt wh^i unveasonable fears and tvouUes 
are i^n you, and troubling thoughts are still upon 
your B^nd, you say that |f<m ecmnot help it nor turn, 
your thought awa^ to any thing else, I know you 
hare not an absolute power over your thoughts, but 
some you h^ve ; why else hath God made a law for 
our thoughts, and laid sq much duty on them, and 
fdrbidd<Hi thdr sin so mueh? Much may be done, if 
you w^ be molute. 

<^' Think whether Christ eame froia the Father to 
bring tidings of sadness and despair, or of great joy -, 
and whether angels preaehed not glory to God in the 
higheUy on. earth peaee, and to men goodwill ? And 
whether faUh, hope, and love, which are the things 
which Chfist will work on souks be not more pow- 
erftd to destioy your sins, than despair or discourage- 
meat of mind ? 

''And because you complain so much of sin, I ask 
you, why doth not your conscience more accuse you 
of the sin of unthankfol denying^ or extenuating the 
mereies oi God, and no more magnifying them ? 
And for overlooking So much the mmtorious righ- 


teouMiess of Christy trbile yov coODplain lor want of 
miore of your own } I tvovld not deceive jovl, by 
leffin^ you that yott need none in yourself, and Hbat 
bXL your righteousness is out of you in Cluist : I 
kiM^ tbat your rightoousneBS mvat exeeed that of 
the Pharisees, sod tike ttin%btemis^ shidl not inherit 
the kingdom of Grod, and that he that doth righteous- 
ness is righteous : bat at What bar or tribunal ? 
Only at that of grace which luppot^M tke reconciling, 
pard(ming righteousness of Christ : it is not at the bar 
of tigorous jusiiee, acobrdiiijg to the law, which re- 
quireCh innoeence to justification > there Christ only is 
your righteousness; and you have mmt^ uicl must 
dredm of none but that which floweth fitm his, and 
sfan^ in subor<&iation to it, and is your title to it, 
and improvement of it, even your thankful accepting 
ufree^given Saviour, Head and Lord, and pardon and 
the Sprritto sanctify you more, andjityouforcommu" 
num with God and for glory ; esteem most, choose first, 
and seek most the love ef €M the Father, the grace of 
Christ, and the communion of the SMy Ghost, and this 
subordinate righteousness wOl certainly prove die 
meritorious, perfect righteonsnees of Christ to be for 
you, instead of a perfect i^kteewsnese of your own. 
There is no defect in his sacrifice or merits ; if you 
Wanted a title to Christ, you were ui^stffied ) but 
none want that, who consenteth to his covenant as 
before ; and that consent yo« cannot deny. Will you 
Bve like a forsaken orphan exposed in a wildemess> 
while God*s tender love is saving yon, and Christ is 
frying in you as the fruit of his blood, and the an* 
gels of God are serving you, and rejoicing at your 
<Jonversion> 1 entreat you think whether it be not 
the great work that God hath called you to, to ho- 


tiottr his grace, aiid propagate to all about you, as" 
you are able, a joyful, thankful, hoping and praising 
frame of soul -, and to stir up all to the delightful 
praise of God ? As ministers must do it by preach- 
ing, all must do it by conference and example. And 
18 your dejected sadness the performance of this V 

7, When she desired to be prayed for, she wrote 
down this answer which I find now in her papers. 

. '' It is well if you know what prayer to put up, or 
what to desire 5 I wiU pray for you according to the 
best of my judgment ; and I will tell you for what> 
that you may know what to pray for for yourself : 
First, I will pray that your thoughts may be turned 
to the magnifying of God's love 5 and you may re* 
member that he is as good as^ he is great ; and that 
you may be more sensible of his mercyy than of your 
own unworthiness. S. I wUl pray that you may 
have so lively an apprehension of your everlasting fe- 
licity, as may make you long to be with Christ. 3^ 
That you may have more self-denial, and that humi- 
lity wMch makes you little in your own eyes. 4. 
That you may be much less tender, and liable to com- 
motion and disquiet of mind, and less sensible of un- 
kindnesses, and of bodily dangers, yea, and of sin 
ifsdif, while the sense of it hinders the sense of mer- 
cy. A meek, and a quiet, and patient spirit, is of 
great price in the sight of God. I will pray that 
you may be delivered from too much inward passion, 
of fear, grief, or discontent. 5. I will pray, that no 
creature may seem greater, better, or more regarda- 
ble, or necessary to you than it is 3 and that you 
vould look on all as walking shadows, vanity and 


liars (that h> untrustyj, further than you can see God 
in them^ or they lead you up to hiiti 3 that they may 
never be over-loved, . over-feared, over-trusted, or 
their thoughts too much regarded. 6. Above all, I 
will pray that you may be less self-willed, and not to 
be too passionately or immoveably set upon the fiil- 
lilling of all your will ; but may have a wiU that is 
'Compliant with the will of Ood, and can change as 
he would have it ; and wiU foUow him, and not run 
before him 3 and can endure to be crossed and denied 
by God and man, without discompotsedness^ and im- 
patient trouble of mind« 7. I shall pray, that seem- 
ing wisdom may not entangle you, either in the con- 
eealment of any thing which greatly needeth your 
friends' advice, or in the hiding of your talents by 
unprofitable silence, as to all good discourse, upon 
the enmity which you have to hypocrisy 5 and that 
you will not live in sins of omiission, for fear of 
.seeming better than you are. By this you may 
•know wherein I think you faulty." 

8. The next I find^ is this advice against her re- 
solution to go to London. 

^^ It is not lawful to speak an idle word, ai^ es- 
pecially ddiberately ; much less to go an idle jourpey. 
What if you fall sick by the way, or some weakness 
take you there, wfll not conscience ask you, who 
called you hither? Your weakness of spirit that 
cannot ,endure this or that, at home> with your dear^ 
est friends, is so far below the quiet, composed forti- 
tude which you should have, that you ought not to 
give way to it. If you are at the command of your 
impatience^ how are you obedient to the conopnand 


ofGrod? It is a:greater work to bring your mind 
and will to the will of God^ than to ohaoge p]ftDe«tr 
appifti«l> or run away as Jonah in discontent. O for 
a mind and will that needed no more to quiet it^ than 
to know what is the wiU of Grod/ and our duty 5 and 
in every state therewith to be conteat. When you 
know your duty^ do it resolutely and cheerfully^ and 
scorn to run away> and turn yourback^ that you may 
do it without censure wliere you are unknown. Use 
well the means -God here vouchsafes you, and do 
your duty with a quiet mind, and/ol/ow ^Qod in your 
. removes." 

9. Much more of such counsels she transcribed^ 
but I forbear reciting more. "She ends those papers 
With these words: 

'^ The best creature-affections have & mixture of 
creature-imperfections, and therfiforeneed some gall 
to wean us from the faulty part : God must/be known 
to be God, our rest, and therefore the best creature 
to be bttt a creature ! O : miserable .world ! (how 
long must I continue in it ^ and why is this /wisetcbed 
heart so loath to leave it >) where we can have no 
fire without smoke, and our deaoest friends must be 
our gi«atest grief 5 and when we begin in hope, and 
love, and joy, before we are aware, we .fell into ,an 
answerable measure of distress. Learn by experieiJuee, 
when any condition is inordinatdy or .eKcesssil^ly 
sweet to thee, to-^^say, Fromhencemiist bemy.Siortwi^^ 
(O hcyw true »)" 



Her Temper, oceasioning thete Trotibles of Mind, 

1. Ta£ soul while in the body^ works much aocord- 
ing to the body's disposition. 1. She was of an ex* 
traordinary sharp and piercing wit.* 2. She had a 
natural reservedness and secresy, increased by think* 
ing it necessary prudence not to be open 5 by which 
means she was oft misunderstood by her nearest 
friends^ and consequently often crossed and disap- 
pointed by those that would have pleased her. And 
as she could understand men mueh by their looks 
and hints^ so she expected all should know her mind 
without her expressing it^ which bred her frustrations 
and discontents. 3. And she had a natural tender- 
ness^ and troubledness of mind^ upon the crossing of 
her just desires; too quicks and ungovernable a 
sense of displeasing words or deeds. 4. She had a 
diseased^ irresistible fearfulness ) her quicks and too 
sensible nature was over-timorous 3 and to increase 
it^ she st^d dhe was four times^ before I knew her^ in 
danger of death (of which^ one was by the small 
pox): and more to increase it^ her mother's house 
(Appley C(Mtle,neBTWdlirtgtimJf'heingn^gam6on, it 

* This observation is Goufirmed by the ofunioD of that great 
and good man, the Rev. John^owe. He saya (speaking of Mrs. 
Baxter), ' I had the opportunity by an occasional abode some days 
under the same roof» several years before she came into that rela- 
tion wh6rehi she finished her course, to observe her Otangehf vmd 
wit, and very sober conversation.' Funeral Sermon forTMrs* Bax- 


^nras stonned while she was in it, and part of the 
housing about it burnt^ and men lay killed before 
her face^ and all of them threatened, and stripped of 
their clothing, so that they were fain to borrow 
clothes. 5. And the great work upon her soul, in 
her conversion, moved aU her passions. 6. And then 
her dangerous sickness, and the sentence of death to 
so young a convert, must needs be a very awakening 
thing ; and coming on her before she had any assu- 
rance of her justification, did increase her fear. ?• 
And in this case she lived in the churchyard side^ 
where she saw all the burials of the dead, and kept a 
death's head (a skull) in her closet still before her. 
And other such mortifying spectacles increased her 
sad disposition. 

S. And the excessive love which she had to her 
mother, did much increase her grief when she ex- 
pected death. 

3. Though she called it melancholy, that by all 
this she was cast into, yet it rather seemed a partly 
natural, and partjy an adventitious, diseased fearful- 
ness in a tender, over-passionate nature, that had no 
|X)wer to quiet her own fears, without any other 
cloud on her understanding. 

. 4. And all was much increased by her wisdom^ so 
stifling all the appearances of it, that it all inwardly 
wrought, and had no ease by vent. 

5. And having keen spirits, and thin sharp blood, 
•she had a strong fiemicrania or head-ach once a 
month, and oft once a fortnight, or more, from the 
age of fifteen or sixteen years. All these together 
much teiided to hinder her from a quiet and comfor- 
toble temper. 

6. And in a word, all the operations of her soul 


mre very intense and strong ; strong wit, and strong 
love^ and strong displeasure. And when God shewed 
her what holiness was, she thought she must present- 
ly have it in so great a degree as the ripest saints do 
here attain } and that because she had not as much 
heavenly life, and sense, and delight in God as she 
knew she should have, and desired, she concluded 
that she had none that was sincere. 

7. One of the first things by whibcih her change 
was discovered to her mother and friends, was her 
fervent secret prayers : for living in a great house, of 
which the middle part was ruined in the wars, she 
chose a closet in the further end, where she thought 
none heard her : but some that overheard her, said, 
they never heard so fervent prayers from any person. 

8. Yet she desired me to draw up a form suited to 
hex own condition 5 which I did, and find it now re^ 
served among her papers 5 but I cannot tell whether 
she ever used it, having affections and freedom of 
expression without it. 1 had thought to have an- 
nexed it for the use of afflicted penitents > but it ^-ilj 
be but a digression ip this narrative. 

CHAP. VI. . 

Of our MarricLge, and our Habitations. 

1. Thb unsuitableness of our age, and my former 
known purposes against marriage, and against the 
conveniency of ministers' marriage, who have no 
sort of necessity, made our marriage the matter of 
much public talk and wonder : and the true opening of 
her case and mine, and the many strange occurrences 
wHch brought it to pass, would take away the won- 



der of ber friencb and mine IhM knew us y and the 
notice of it wonld much confcice to the unilcikfstand- 
ing of fome otier paMages of our lires : yet vAae 
friends; fof whom I am nd^ised^ think it better to 
omit such personal particularities^ at least at this 
time. Both in h^r case and mine^ there was much 
extraordinary^ which it doth not' much cdttcem the 
world to be acquainted with. FVom 'the first 
thoughts of it, many changes and stoppages inter- 
venedv and long dehiys> till I was silenced and ^eeted 
with many hundreds more 3 and so being se^artited 
j&om my old pastoral charge, which was eti^ugh to 
take up aU my time and labour, some of my (fisBuad** 
ing reasons were then over. And at last, (m Sep^ 
tember 10, 1662, we were married in Bennett Fink 
church by Mr. Samttei Clarke ,* (yet Hving)/ haVing 
been before contraeted by Mr. SttiMon if«/ii>f both 

« Mr. Samael Clarke had been a uaefiil preacher many ye^rs 
, in Cheshire and Warwickshire, where be had met with trouble ou 
account of the .Et cetera oath, dec before he came to London ; but 
he here lived comfortably and uflefolly, holding the linngof St* 
Bennet Fink, till ejected therefrom by the Act of Uniformity. He 
was one of the Comnussioners at the Treaty at the Savoy. He 
was boni Oct. 10, 1599, and die^ Dec. S5, 1682. 

f We hate the following accotiatof this excellent divine givt^i 
us by Mr, Baxter: — *Good old Mr. Simeon Ash was buried the 
very eve of Bartholomew day^ and wient seasonably to beaten at 
the ver^ time when he ^t^i td>be tost oat of the church. He ^rras 
a Christian of the primififrMfiiplicil^,' not much for coiitvoveray, 
nor inclined to diispates* biit.<^ a holy life and pe^tefiii miad, and of 
a fluent elegancy in prayer, fiili of matter and exoeUent irords. 
His ordinary speech tras holy and edifying. Being confined much 
^ his house by the gout, and having a good estate and a good wife* 


in ^e presence of Mr^ Hetwy AMmrti* aod.iWrt. 

2. She consented to tbese oonditaons of our roar* 
risge: 1. ThatI would have nothing that before Qttr 

inclined to entertainment and liberality, his house was very much 
firequented by ministers. He was always cfaeerfal, without prolose 
laa^ter, at liberty, or vain word*: never tronUed.with dtak^ingf^ 
of his intereBtin. Chfist, bat tasting, t^o fi«|«t|iiii9l lov<e qf God, ,was 
iMcti d^jfoa^ to tbe oodi|i^aipju»tu)Koif it to others, and comforting 
ducted souls. His eminent serenitj^ ^lade him exceedingly loved 
and honoured. Having preached his lecture in Cornhill, beiug 
heated, he took cold in the vestry, and thinking it would have 
proved but one of his old fits of the gout, he went to-Highgate,bat 
it turned to a fever. He died as he lived, in great CGosoIatioik and 
cheerM exercise of &itb, greatly eiioQOiapBg all about bi^i with 
joyful expresaons in respect of death, and his approaching change. 
As soon as I came to him, gladness so excited his s|nrlts, that he 
^>ake joyfiilly and full of his going to God to all about him. I 
sddd with hiQi IAa. last evening, ajid in the night he departed .' 

* .AldeffaHD.HfiDry AiibbvMr^t.w Withe iptioiiate fijfvd of Mr. 
Baxter ifor nway yean, .wbon he held v\ .the behest e^leem. He 
was <;oattidnly t^kcn for >bfe isosl ^xeoHpJiary Chri^tiaa in his time, 
that was of pabiie note in tbe city of Londop* He was sonnd in 
jodgtnenty of such admirable meekaesa, patience, universal charity 
and all good . works, Ihat bisr equol was rarely to be found. A vo- 
lume augin be wnttcn. in praise of 1ms e;icellent deeds, both at 
heme aadabKaid; for h& did not confine hia charity to England, 
Ireland aa&jSeotknd, but extended ids vif ws in doing gpod, to bea- 
then lands, and was a chief i^tnunent in the setting up a printing'- 
press, and ■ ptoouting the Bible to be translaled into the Indian 
tongue, as wtell^as many other gpod bofiks, for.the use of the hea- 
then. -He vras a rnene Bdble Cliristian of the primitive stamp : 
no leamlag signified n^uch with Iubi, bat what helped him to un- 
denfand the Scriptures ', and he: loved no preaching so well as that 
wfeteh made much and pertinent use of ^laiptnr^, by clear exposi- 
tion and suitable application. He liked not that w^cb Dr. Man- 

52 MEMoiBs or 

marriage was hers^ that 1 (^ho wantffd no outward, 
supplies) might not seem to marry her for covetoua- 
ness. 2. That she would so alter her affairs^ that T 
might be entangled in no law-suits. 3, That she 
would expect none of my time which my ministerial 
work should require. 

3. When we were married^ her sadness and me- 
lancholy vanished ; counsel did something to it^ and 
contentment something ; and being taken up with, 
our household affairs^ did somewhat. And we lived 
in inviolated love^ and mutusd complacency^ sensible 
of the benefit of mutual help. These near nineteen 
years I know not that ever we had any breach in 
point of love^ or point of interest^ save only that she. 
somewhat grudged that J had persuaded her for my 

toil was wont to call geTitleman-preacku^, set oat with fiae things, 
and laced and gilded, plainly speaking, telf-preaehu^, man-^koh 
ing and pride. He was esteemed, loved and bonoared, both at 
home and abroad, bj his children, servants, neigbboors and fellow- 
citizens. And if you would troly know what was the meritoriott> 
cause of all this luve and honour, says Mr. Baxter, I will tdl yon, 
Tt was the image rf Chritt and the fruits of hb holy doctritae and his 
Spirit. Though he was sach a holy man, and of a stroog body, it 
pleased God to try his patience by a very painful disease, which 
he endured for many years ; but at last, in extremity of torment he 
underwent an operation, and after much sniTering «od patience 
died in jgneat peace and quietness of mind, and thns suddenly pM- 
sed from the exercise of faith and patience, into sight and rest. 
His last words, (save hisfarewel, and ' Come Lord Jesus,') were to 
an old friend, * To toalk in the way of God, will be corrfort at death,* 
It was commonly said by magistrates, ministers and people, that 
'We have lost the roost excellent pattern of piety, charity and al( 
virtue that this city hath bred in our times.' And to what other 
ebd, concludes Mr. Baxter, have I said all this of him ? Ip gen^ 
^1, ' Go thou and do likewise*' 




^i^etne&8 to surrender so much of her estate^ to a 
^sabling her from helping others so much aS she 
earnestly desh«d. 

4. But that even this was not from a coTCtoug 
mihd> is evident by these instances. ( 1 .) Though her 
portion^ which was £2000^ besides that given ap 
aforesaid, was, by IH debtors, ^00 lost in her mo- 
ther's time, and £300 after, before her marriage j 
and all she had reduced to almost £1650, yet she ne-> 
ver grudged at any thing that the poverty of debtors 
deprived her of, 

(2.) She had before beeii acquainted with the Lord 
Chancellor's oflering me a bishopric j and though it 
might have tdken o£P the censure of those relations 
that thought she debased herself in marrying me, 
and also might have seemed desirable to h^ for the 
wealth as well as the honour, sh^ was so far from 
desiring my accepting it, that I am persuaded had I 
done it, it would have alienated her much from me 
in point of esteem and love. Not that she had any 
•opinion against episcopacy then, that ever I coald 
perceive, but that she abhorred a worldly, mercenary 
mind in a minister of Christ, and was a sharp cen- 
surer of all that for gain, or honour, or worldly ends, 
would stretch their consciences to any thing that 
th^y thought God forbade. ,And I am assured 
(though towards her end she wished she had been 
more able to relieve the needy, and do more good -, 
yet) she lived a far more contented life in our mean 
condition, even when she stooped to receive from 
others that had been strangers to her, than She would 
have done had I been a bishop, and she had had 
many thousand pounds more at her disposal 5 yea, I 
«m persuaded she would not easily have endured it. 


(3.) Another trial of her as to wealth and honour, 
WA6 when J, and all such others, were cast out of aii 
possession and hope of all ecclesiastical nudntenance ^ 
she was not ignorant of the scorn and the jeakusies, 
and wrath and prosecuticms that I was like to be ex- 
posed to 5 yea, she had heard and seen it already be- 
gun by bishop Marley^s forbidding me to preadi be- . 
fore, and preaching himself, and his dean, and many 
others, fierc^y against me in Kiddermin$ter pulpit^ 
she had quickly heard them that were cast out and 
silenced, deeply accused as if they had deserved it. 
To choose a participation of such a life that had no 
encouragement from any worldly wealth or honour, 
yea> that was exposed to such certain suffering whicl^ 
had no end in prospect on this side death, dM sheew 
that she was far from oov^usness. Much' n|oce 
evidence of this I shall shew you as it falls i^ its 

5. Among other troubles that her marriage ex- 
posed her to, one was our oft necessitated removals i. ^ 
which to those that must take houses, and bind 
themselves to landlords, and fit and furnish them, is 
more than for single persons that have no such clogs 
or cares. First, we took a house in Moorfields, after 
at Acton ; next that, another at Acton y and after 
that, another there 3 and after that, we were put to 
remove to one of the former again j and after that> 
to divers others in another place and county, as fol- 
loweth 5 and the women have most of that sort of 
trouble. But she easily bore it all. 

And 1 know not that ever she came to any plaee 
where she did not extraordinarily win the lov« of the 
inhabitants (unless in any stireet where she staid so 
short a time^ as not to be known to them). Had sAit 


hiMi but the riches of the world to hate done thfe 
good that she had a heart to. do, hour mudi woald 
she hare beca loved, who in. her mean and low con- 
dition won so much ! 

And her carriage won more lovetihan her liberali*« 
ty ; she coiild not endure to hear one give another 
4ny sour, rough, or hasty word 5 her speech and coun-^ 
teMtafie was always kind aiid cvvil^ whether she had 
any thing to give or not. 

And an her kindness tended to -some better end, 
than barely td relieve people's bodily wants 5 even to 
oblige them to ^ome duty that tended to the good of 
their souls, or to deliver them from some strattef 
which filled them with hurtful care; and beoaini^ a 
ikiatterof great temptation to them. If sh^could 
hire the poor to hear God's word, firom Confbrmi^ 
or Nonconformist, orto i^ad good, serious, practical 
books, whether written by Conformists or Noncon- 
formists^ it answered her end and desire : and many 
aa htmdred books hath she given to those ends. 
But of diese things more hereaHer. This is here 
but to answer the aforesaid objection^ and to lead on 
to the following particular passages of her lifCi 

6. While I was at AcUm, her carriage and charity 
so vron the people there, that all that I ever heard of, 
greatly esteemed and loved her. And she being ear- 
nestly desirous of doing good, prepared her bouse 
for the reception of those that would come in, to be 
instructed by me, between the morning and evening 
public assemblies^ and after. And the people that 
had never been used to such things, accounted 
worldly, ignorant persons, gave us great hopes of their 
edification and reformation, and fiUed the room, and 
went with me also into the church (which was at mjs 


dok)r). And when I was after removed^ the pe<^le 
hearing Ihat I again wanted a house (being ten miles 
off) 4 they unanimously subscribed a request to me, 
to return to my old house with them, and offered to 
pay my house-rent, which I took kindly : and it was 
much her winning conversation whidi thus won 
their love. 

7. When I was carried thence to the common 
gaol, for teaching them, as aforesaid, I never per- 
ceived her troubled at it : she chea-fully went with me 
into prison -, she brought her best bed thither; and did 
much to remove the removable inconveniences of the 
prison. I think she had scarce ever a pteasanter 
time in her life than while she was wkh me there. 
And whereas people upon such occasions were not 
unapt to be liberal, it was against her mind to re- 
ceive more than necessity required. Only three per- 
sons gave me just as much as paid lawyers' and pri- 
son-charges, and when one offered me more, she 
would not receive- it : but all was far short of the 

great charges of our remoyal to another habitatio&»* 


* OJTthe cruel treatment he met with at tbis>tiaie, Mr. Bax- 
ter obsenres, ' My imprisoimient was- at present no suffering to 
me ; for I had an honest gaoler, who shewed me all the kindness 
he could. I had a, large room, and the libertjr of walking in a fair 
garden ; and my wife was never so cheerful a companion to me. as in 
prison, and was very much agamst ray seeking to be released ', and 
she had brought so many necessaries, that we kept house as con- 
tentedly and comfortably as at home, though in a narrower room, 
and I bad the sight of more of my friends in a day, than 1 had at 
home ia half a year. The number of visitors by day did put me 
out of hope of studying,, or doing any thing but entertain them* I 
had neither leave at any time to go out cf doors, much less tq a 
church on the Lord'^-day, nor on that day to have any com^ to 
ine, nor to preach- to< any but my ovm family.' 


S. The parliament making a new^ sharper law 
against us, I was forced to remove into another 
county } thither she went with me, and removed her 
■goods that were moveable, from Jcton to Totteridge, 
being engaged for the rent of the house we left. At 
Totteridge, the first year, few poor people are put to 
the hardness that she was put to ; we could iilutre no 
'house but part of a poor farmer's, where the chim- 
nies so extremely smoked, as greatly annoyed her 
health *, for it was a very hard winter, and the coal« 
smoke so filled the room that we all day sat in, that 
it was as a cloud, and we were nearly suffocated with 
the stink. And she had ever a great straitness of the 
iungs, that could not bear smoke or closeness. This 
was the greatest bodily suffering that' her outward 
condition put her to 5 which was increased by my 
continual pain there. But her chanty to her poor 
landlady, set her son apprentice, who nowliveth well 

9. Thence we removed to a house, which we took 
to ourselves, which required so great alterations and 
amendment, as took her up much time and labour : 
JSLTid to her great comfort, she got Mr* Corbet* and his 

* 'Mr. Joho Corbet was sometime a preacher in Glocesterj 
after at Chichester, and after that at Bramshot in Hampshire, which 
place he left, to keep the peace of his conscience. He was a man 
of extraordinary judgment, moderation, peaceable principles, and 
blameless life; a solid preacher, and well Jcnown by his writbgs. 
He lived peaceably in London without gathering any assembly for 
public preaching. Dwelling at Totteridge with Alderman Webb ; 
his great love drew him there to be near me, says Mr. Baxter, 
with whom awhile he took up hb habitation. God many years af- 
flicted him with a painful disorder, which at last caused his death. 
While the pain was tolerable to nature he endured it, and ceased 
not preaching till a fortnight before he was carried up to London* to» 

D 2 

58 MEMOI&ft OF 

wife to dwell with U8. And in all these changes and 
troables she lived in great peace. 

10. When the king's Declarations and Licenees 
gave Nonconfonnists leave to build meetings-places^ 
and preachy she was against vtiy going to London, 
till others were there settled^ lest I should anticipate 
theni> and gather any auditors^ Viho would else go to 
others^ especially thieir old ejected pastors; but when 
others were settled^ she was ^earnest with me to go, 
for the exercise of my ministry. 

11. Upon our removal to London, oat of tender 
regard to my healthy which she thought the situation 
might contribute much unto^ she chose and took for 
us this most pleasant and convenient house in Souths 
ampton'Square, where she died. These were our re-^' 


Of her exceeding desires to do good, 

I. As at her conversion^ and in her sickness> she ab''^ 
solutely devoted herself and all that she had to God -, 
so she earnestly set herself to perform it to the last. 
At first she gave but the tenth of her income to the 
poor ; but I quickly convinced her that God must 
not be stinted^ but as all was his> so all must be used 
for him by his stewards^ and of all we must give ac- 

undergo an operation, but before that could' be done, in a fortnight 
more he died* He had lived in my house before, and was greatly 
honoured by my wife. She got not long after hu excellent, ezeih- 
plary wife, (daughter to Dr. Twiss) to be her comi>anion, but e^- 
joyed that comfort- but ^ little while, which T have longer enjoyed/ 

MftS. M'AfeUAtlfeT BAXTfiE. 69 

count; oi^y in his appointed order we must use it, 
which i», 1. Ibr our own natural necessities. «. For 
public neceesary good. 3. For the necessities of our 
children, and such relations as are pa^t of ourcharffe. 
4% And Uien foi' the godly poor. 5. And then for the 
common poor's necessities. 6. And lastly, for con- 
veniences 5 but nothing fbt iinuseful things. 

3. To name the particular great instances of her 
prhrate charity, is neither suitable to my ends, nor 
W- desires. I wifi instance but some of her more 
pb^c cares. 

3. She W«a earnestly desirous of the winning of 
sofilSy and of the utmost improvement of mine and 
other naenVlabours to that end. At Acton, I told you 
hdW she promoted it; and at Totteridge, out of 
thuroh'time, she gladly opened her doors to her 
tieighbdntB, that w^tmld come in for instruction. 

4r At Ldndon, when «he saw me too dull and back- 
ward to seek any employment till I was called, and 
that most places in. the city had some, supplies ; she 
first fished out of me in what place I most desired 
more preaching. I told her in St: Matin's parish, 
where are said to be forty thousand more than can 
come into the church, especially among all the new 
buildings at St. Jameses, yfhfixe nelgbbours may live 
like Americans, and have h^rd no sermon of many 

When she h&& orfce he&rd this, without my know- 
ledge she Sets one to seek after some capacious room 
there ; and none was found, but divers roomaover 
the madwt^house laid together. She gets one' to 
take thems. And they two agreed to- importune me 
to preinib each mroming, and in the afternoon to get 
by tutns the ablest ministers they could procure i» 

60 Jif EMOIfiS OF 

London. And to that end she got a minister a 1iuii>- 
4red miles off to come up to help me^ promising him 
.;£40. a year^ to go from day to day to supply the 
places of such eminent ministers as should be got. 
All this charge^ besides paying a clerks and a tvoman 
to look to. the seats> rose high. Fart of it the peo- 
ple paid^ and the rest she paid herself. 

5 . Hence God was pleased to remove us> but by 
the interposition of a marvellous delivei«ncei The 
roof of that market-house is a vast weight, and was 
iU-contrived to lie much on one beam in the middle 
-of the floor : the place being greatly crowded, the 
beam gave so great a crack as put all the people In a 
fear. But a second crack set them all on running, 
and crying out at the windows for ladders; I having-' 
seen the like before 'at Dunstan\ Fleet-street,* while 
1 was preaching (which occasioned the pulling down 
and new building of the church), reproved them 

* Mr. Baxter's ministry being attended by crowded congre- 
gatiODS» a circumstance Jiappened that drove liim from his place of 
preaching, which ^was At tlustime that of St. Dunstan's, J'ieet* 
street,, where he was lecturer to Dr. Bates. He thus relates, the 
occurrence in his life ; 'It fell out that at Dunstan's church in the 
midst of sermon, a little lime and dust, and perhaps a piece of 
a brick or two, fell down in the steeple or belfry near the boys, 
which put the whole xiofigregation into sudden mc^mcholy, so that 
they thought the steeple and church were (altuig ; which put them 
all into so confused a haste to get away« that indeed the noise of 
the feet in the galleries sounded like the falling oC the stones ; so<- 
that the people crowded out of doors. The women left some of 
them a scarf, and some a shoe behind them, and some in the gal- 
leries cast themselves down upon those below, because Aey could 
not get down the stairs. I sat down in the pulpit, seeing and pity- 
ing their vain distemper, and as soon as I could be heard* 1 eti- 
Ireated their silence, and. went on. The people were no ^sooner 


sharply for their fears^ and would have gone on to 
preach ^ but see the strange hand of God on her 
that set all the work on foot ! After the first crack, 
she got down the stairs through the crowd, where 
Others could not get that were stronger. The first 
nlan she met, she asked him what profession he was 
of} he said, a carpenter. Saith she. Can you sud- 
denly put a prop under the middle of this beam ? 
The man dwelt close by, had a meet prop ready, sud- 
denly put it under, while all we above knew nothing 
of it ', but the man's knocking increased the people's 
fears and cry. We were glad all to be gone -, and 
the next morning took a skilful workman to take up 
the boards> and search the beam; which we all saw 
had two such rents, so long and so wide, and the 
sound part left was so slender, that we took it for a 
wonder that the house fell not suddenly. 

quieted, and got in again, and the auditory composed, but some 
that stood upon a bench near the communion-table, brake the 
bench- with their weijrbt, so that the noise renewed their fear again, 
and they were worse disordered than before ; so that one old wo- 
maa was beard at the church door askmg forgiveness of Opd, f<» 
not taking the first warning, and promising, if God would deliver 
her this once, she would take heed of coming thither again. When 
they were again quieted I went on,' Dr. Bates, in his funeral ser- 
mon for Mr. Baiter, represents it as a signal instance of his firm 
faith in the Divine Providence, that after the hurry was over, be 
resumed his discourse with this remarkable passage to compose the 
minds of the people : ' We are in the service of God, to prepare 
ourselves, that we may be fearless at the great noise of t ho dissolv- 
ing world, when the heavens shall pass away, and the elements 
melt with fervent heat ; the earth also, and the works therein shall 
be burnt up,' &c. The church being olc|, it was in great part pul- 
ied down and rebuilt ; during which reparation, he preached at St. 


6. But this fright mcreased my wife's diseased 
fr^htfulness $ so that she never got ofif alLthe effects 
of it while she lived. The fear^ and the marvellous 
deliverance^ made her promise to God two dungs : 
1 . To keep the anniversary memorial of it in public 
thanksgiving (which she did). And ^. To build a 
safer place^ where they might meet with less fear. 
And it too deeply touched her mind to think that it 
was she that took the place, and brought them all 
thither. And if eight hundred persons had been thei« 
buried in the ruins> as the Papists were atBlackfricars/'' 
O what a dreadful thing it would have been in the 
heavy loss, the many dblonons families, and the pub-* 
lie scandal ! These were too grea^ thoughts to fhll 
on a weak and too passionate nattxte. 

7. According to her proimise, she paid for that 
place, and presently set to seek and build an^^tter. 
And there was there no fit grounds near it to be had, 
but two 5 of which one was in Oxendon-street, which 
she could not hare without giving thirty pounds a 
year ground-rent, and to be at all the charge of build- 
ing on it, and this but for a lease not very long. B<it 
^he must do it by promise and desire. She gets a 
friend to make the bargain, takes the ground, and 
begs money to build on it a chapel, which tempted 
us by the ill advice of a friend, to take also the front 
ground to the street, and build two little houses on 

* Towards the eud of the reign of James I. a dreadful acci- 
dent called the Fatal Veipen happened ai Blackfriars. A celebra- 
ted preacher of the order of the Jesuits, named father Drory, gave 
a sermon to a large audience', in a spacious room up three pair of 
stairs. In the midst of tlie discourse the floor fell, and ninety-four 
persons besides the preacher perished. 


it^ to onr great lo&s, all her own money^ and many 
times more, bdng laid out upon them^ much against 
her inclination. 

S. When that chapel was finished^ I b^an and 
preached there bat one day^ being to go on the mor- 
roNvinto the country. It unhappilyfell oiit, that Secre- 
tary Itenrt/ Coventry's house was on the back part of 
it, who resolved that it should not be used by us. The 
next Lord*s-day, when I was far ofif, and left my wife 
at home, she got one Mr, Seddon, a Derbyshire stran- 
ger then come to town> to preach there, (an humble^ 
]iidUs man, that had suffered imprisonment foimerly 
hy Ctomwelts party for being for the King's restorti- 
tion at the rising of Sir George Booth :J Secretary 
Coventry thinking I would be there, had got three 
justices with a warrant as for me, to have ap|iptf)i|i^nd- 
ed me, and sent me to. gaol. But it.feil f)vi']i!br^,tSed-* 
don. But because the warrant made^for Ene,.was so 
altered as to the name that it suited not his case, af- 
ter some time of imprisonment he had his ffatfeas 
Corpus, and bythejtisticeof worthy Judge HaZe* and 

* Sir Matthew Hale wts bem m ASdevaley , in Gioacestershire, 
in ICOO. He was a very learned ii»B, a somid lawyer, an upright 
judge, and an exemplary Christian. Of this excellent man Mr. 
llaxter gives the Ibllowing accoont. * The last year of my abode 
at Acton, I had the happiness of a neighbbur whom I cannot easily 
praise above his worth, which was Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief 
JQSticeof the Exchequer, whoni aH the judges' and lawyers of 
S^gland adndred for his skill in law, and for hial justice; and scho- 
lars honoured for his learning, and I highly vsdued fix* his siikcerity^ 
inortifinition, self^-denial, humility, eonsdentionsufess and his close 
fid^ty in friendship. Soon after he came to town I had notice of 
his desire of my aoqadntance; and I scarcely ever conversed so 
profitably with any other person in my Ufi^ Falling into a lan- 
guishing disease from wh»* hewtfs not Hiely to rWtoVer.tiesolvcdly 


otibter judges, was delivered. But he was a tendtftr 
man, and my wife sensibk that she was the occasion 
(which did her no good), and all the burden lay on 

■' ' I ' W> ■ 'I ■ I I I I 111! ■ ■ I I I . I 

petitioned for his dismiMion and gave up bis place, having ^ms 
through his employments, and gone off the stage with more univer- 
sal love imd lioQOur for bis skiU> wisdom, piety and resolved jus- 
tiee^ than ever I heard or read that any Englishman ever did be- 
fore him, or any magistrate in the world of his rank, since the days 
of the kbgs of Israel. He resolved, in his weakness, that the 
jl^ace should not be a burden to him, nor %e to it. And after all 
his great practice and places, he tells me, that with his own inheri- 
tanoe and all he is not now worth- t£SO0 per Annum ; so little 
sought he after gain. He may most ^oly be called, the pillar and 
basis, or ground of justice, as Paul called (not the church, but) 
timothy (in the church) the pillar and basis of truth. His digest- 
ed knowledge of law above all men, and next in philosophy, and 
much in theology, was very great ; his sincere honesty and humi- 
lity adnurable ; his garb, and house, and attendance so very mean 
and low, and he so resolutdy avoided all the diversions and vani- 
ties of the world, that he was herein the marvel of his age. Some 
made it a scandal, but his wisdom chose it for his convenience^ that 
in hb age he married a woman of no estate, suitable to his disposi- 
tion, to be to him as a nurse. He succeeded me in one of the 
meanest houses that ever I had lived in, and there hath ever since 
cffl&^aed with full G<Mitent, till now that he is going to his native 
country, in all likelihood to die there. It is not the least of my plea- 
sure ihat I have lived some years in his more thanr ordinary love 
and friendshipr and that we are now waiting which sliall be first in 
faeavea r whither, he saith, he is going with full content and acqui- 
escenee in the will of a gracious God, and doubts not but we shall 
shortly live together. what a blessed world were this, were the 
generality of magistrates such as he !' A few days before his death, 
which took place in 1675, he went into the churchyard of Alders'* 
ley, and there chose his grave. The best known of his wiStiagSi 
which are numerous, are, ' The Primitive Org^iuzation of Mw 
kind, considered and ezpUined according to the Dght of Nature,r 
&c. folio ; * The History of the Pleas of the Crowja,' folio ; ' Coo- 
templatioiis^ Moial and Divine,' 3 vols. 8vq. 


her to maintain him^ to visit and comfort him, to pay 
the lawyers, and disldhai^ge all fees ; which as I re- 
member cost her £20 5 and yet we were calumniated 
as if I (that was twenty miles oflF) had put another 
to suffer in my stead. 

9. When she saw that we could not be suffered to 
preach in the place which upon her promise she had 
built J she was very glad that Dr, Lloyd and the pa- 
rishioners accepted of it for their public worship j 
asking them no more rent than we were to pay for 
the ground, and the room over for a vestry at £5, 
and asking no advantage for all the money laid out 
on the building : yet since, the piu-chase of the fee- 
simple of the chapel-ground hath cost me £900 
more, and the adjoining ground £200 more, to my 
great loss. 

io. So much was her heart set on the helping the 
ignorant, untaught poor about St, James's, that she 
set up a school there to teach some poor children to 
read, and the Catechism freely 5 and thereby also re- 
lieved a poor honest man that taught them, who hath 
a wife and many children, and no other maintenance 
of his own, Mr. Bruce, And she would fain have 
set up more, had she had money ; for this she beg- 
ged awhile of her good friends j but they quickly 
gave over j and she paid him mostly of her own, of 6 
a year, till her death. I mention this, to move some 
Charitable people to continue it 5 and to tell them, 
that in the many great out-parishes of London, there 
are multitudes of the children of the poor, that spend 
their thne in idleness and play, and are never taiight 
to read j and that there are many good women very 
poor, that would be glad of a small stipend to teach 
such to read, and the Catechism 3. and so both might 



have relief and hdp ; and I think charity can scarce 
be better used, as honest Mr, Gouge^ hath in Wales 
found by experience. And I Would such places in 

* Thomas Gouge, jufinater of St. Sepulchre's church in London , 
from which he was ejected in 1662 for nonconformity, was the son 
of the eminent Dr. William Gouge of Blackfrian. He was a nun 
of exemplary piety, charity, humility, sincerity and moderation^ 
Mr. Baxter says, ' I never heard any one person, of what rank, 
aort or sect soever, speak one word to bb dishonour, or name 
any fault that ever they charged on his life or doctrine.' 
He was once possessed of a good estate; but when he had 
lost much by the Fire (1666), had fettled his cluldren, and bad 
his wife taken from him by death, he had but ^150 a year leffe 
and he gave one hundred of it to charitable uses. It was his d^j 
work to* do all the good he could, with as great diligence and con- 
stancy as other men labour at their trades. He viated the poor, 
and stirred up the rich, in whom he had any interest, to devote at 
least a tenth part of their estates to works of charity. He was the 
founder and supporter of above three hundred schools in the chief 
towns of Wales, for the propagation of useful knowledge ; and whca 
between sixty and seventy years of age he used to travel yearly 
through the country and disperse what money he could spare himr 
self or collect from others among the poor, labouring, persecuted 
minisfers there. He preached himself in Wales, till they drove 
him from the place by persecution. He went constantly to the parish 
churches, and sometimes communicated with them, and was au- 
thorised by an old University licence to preach occasionally, and 
yet for so doing was excommunicated even in Wales, and that 
while he was doing all this good. He procured a very fan* impres- 
sion of the Bible in the Welch tongue, to the number of eight 
thousand j one thousand of which were freely given to the poor, and 
the rest sent to the principal cities and towns m Wales, to be sold 
to the rich at reasonable rates. He was used to say often with 
pleasure, That he had two livings, which he would not exchange 
for two of the greatest in England, meaning Wales, where he used 
to travel every year to spread knowledge, piety and charity ; and 


London where the ienifti or the fbUrth person in the 
parish cannot come to churchy and many thousands 
have disused themselves from God's public worship^ 
and breed up their children accoidinglj, were pitied 
as well as Waks. 

11. When she saw that I could not use the chapel 
which she built, she presendy hireil another near 
(ready built, for gain) in SwaUoiv^ street, that the 
poor people where 1 had begun (through God's mer- 
cy with considerable success) might stifi be taught : 
and when I had there awhile continued, and was 
kept out, by the officers' standing at the doOr wiUi 
the justices' warrants, many montj^ together, it was 
her care and act to refer it to many good mimstera, 
to choose one for the place that woidd ht better en- 
dured by them that would not endure me ; and a 
fiiithful, paiftful, self-denying man was chosed, who 
hath there done much good, and still doth. 

12. When I was thence drlveii, it was her choice 
that I should go quite to Soutkwark each Lord's-day, 
to preach to a congregation of poor people thei^^ 

Christ*8 Hospital, where he used freely to catechise the poor chil- 
^ dren, in order to the well laying the foundation of religion in them 
in their tender years. He likewise caused to be translated and 
printed in Welch, Tlie Church Catechism, with a Practical Ex- 
pojdtion J—The Book of CdiiiTOon Prayei- ;—The Whole Doty of 
Man ,•— ThePritticeof Piety, and other practical books. M#. 
Goage died suddenly in 1681, in the 77th ypar of his age, without 
any sickness, or pain, or fear of death ; he was heard to give a 
groan in his sleep and he was gone. Dr. Tillotson, who preached 
his funeral sermon, ascribes to him the first foundation of that cha- 
ritable de«gn of employing the poor at work, which Mr. Thomas 
FirmfD ofter^»d<iinprovcd, and which niet#iA soch genera) ap- 
liaose. His wfirks^ though few,, tae vaiiiablek 

MSMoiKs or 

13. When Dr. Manton*8 place at Covent GardeH 
Was void, it was her desire that I should preach once 
a day there^ because being near^ many of the poor of 
St, James*8 would come thither^ as they did. 

14. She got from her friends also money to hel]^ 
to build another very useful chapel for another^ 
among a numerous poor people^ where still much 
good is done. And she promoted two or three such 

13. She was very impatient of public collectiotis 
for the ministers^ or for the rent of the place, be- 
cause it sounded ill, and prejudiced the ignorant and* 
covetous, and troubled the poor that had no money ^ 
and therefore did the utmost she could with her own 
purse and her friends* to avoid it, knowing that rent 
must be paid, and ministers and their families must 
hare bre^, and it is a pity that they should be un- 
der the cares of want. 

16. She Was so far from crosising me in my preach-^ 
ing fredy without salary, or gathering a church that 
would maintain me, or making collections, or get- 
ting subscriptions, that she would not have endured 
any such thing if I had desired it -, though she knew 
that the labourer was worthy of his hire, and that 
' God had ordained, that they that preach the Gospel 
should live of the Gospel : yet she knew that all 
must l^e done to the furtl^erance of the Gospdr,. and 
to edifying 5 and was of PauFs mind, that would ra- 
ther die, than any should make his glorying void, 
and deprive him of that reward. Therefore it was 
so far from offending her (as it would be with many 
ministers' wives that were in want, and might have 
such maintenance as is their due), that I neither conr 
formed, nor took any place of gain, that it was as- 


much by her will as my own> that for the first niii^ 
^r ten years of my ejected state I took. not so x&iicb 
as any private gift to supply my wants^ eitcept of* 10 
a year from Sergeant Fountaine,* which his importu* 
nity^ and my civility would not permit me to refuse. 
17. And I take it yet for a greater part of her self- 
denial and charity^ that when her own estate proved 
much too short to maintain her in the exercise of 
such good woiks as she was devoted to, she at length 
refused not to accept with thanks the liberality of 
others^ and to live partly on charity, that she might 
exejf'cise charity to them that could not so easily get 
it from others as we could do ; and accordingly of 
latter years, divers faithful, pious friends (no way re* 
lated to us, or obliged by us) have been so free, kind 
and liberal, that I have much ado to forbear here 

* Of this excellent man, Mr. Baxter thus speaks : ' This year 
died Sergeant John Fountaioe, the only person from whom I re- 
ceived an annnal sura of money ; which tfaf oagh God's roerey I 
needed not, yet I could not in eivility i«fuse. He gave me ten 
pounds a year from the time of my silencing till his death. I was a 
stranger to him before the kbg's return ; save that when he was 
judge (before he was one of the keepers of the great seal) he did 
eur country great service against vice. He was a man of a sound ^ 
and quick understanding, an upright, Impartiial mind and life, of too 
much testiness in his weakness ; but of a most believing, serious fer- 
vency towards God, and open, aealous owning of true piety and 
facdiness, without owning the little partialities of sects as most men 
that ever I came near in his sickness. When be lay sick, which 
was almost a year, he sent to the judges and lawyers that sent to 
visit him, such answers as these : — I thank your lord or master 
for his kindness ; present my service to him, and tell him iti»a 
great work to die well ; his time is near j all worldly glory must 
come down ; entreat him to keep his integrity, overcome temptfiy 
tiflin, please God, and prepare to die.' 


naming .them> in expression of their bouaiy «nd my 
tfamd^s. And I must say of her^ that once her pride 
would not haye stooped to be so much beholden> a$ 
to live. oh the charity of strangers. 

18. When warrants were ottt {fram Sir Thcmfli 
Dams) to distraia of my goods £00* fines for my 
preachings she did, withmtt any re{miing, encoturoge 
me to undergo the hsss^ ahd.^ herself take the trou- 
ble of remtririDg aoid hiding my library awhile^ (mlMiy 
scores being so lost^) and after to give it away^ btrna 
fide, some to New JEnglandy and the most at hopc^e^ to 
avoid distraining oh them. And the danger of im- 
prisonment^ and paying j^40 for every sermon, was 
so far from inclining her to hinder or discourage me 
from any one sermon^ that if she did but think I had 
the least fear, or self-saving by fleshly wisdom, in 
shrinking from my undertaken office- work, it was so 
great a trouble to her, that she could not hide it, 
who could too much hide many others. 

19. She was expeeding impatient with any non- 
eonfoarming ministers that shrunk for fear of suffer- 
ing, or that were over-querulous and sensible of their 
wants or dangers; and would have no man be a mi- 
nister that had not so much self-denial as to lay down 
all at the feet of Christy and count no cost or suffer- 
ing too dear to serve him. She greatly hated choos- 
ing or using the sacred ministry for .W€!^th, ease, or 
honour^ or any worldly end, serving the flesh under 
the name of serving Christ, and looking to be reve- 
renced and honoured in this taking of God's name in 

i 20. Accordingly after spme years, wherein a larger 
couarse had been taken, she was against, my persuade . 
ing parents to devote their children to the.miqistr 


that liad but gpb^ wits and perts^ and were not pro- 
hx^y theugli my success with some did much encou- 
tngp me to it heretofore : but her sense of the sin 
and. mischief of bad ministers^ made her persuade all^ 
that in tiiat case she had to do with^ to take heed of 
demoting their sons to the ministry^ till they had 
good reason to judge them truly godly *, and as she 
would not haye pious persons to marry such as were 
notpiottS) on pretence of hopes that God would con- 
vert them 3 so much less would she have such hopes 
that have no promise from God^ pretended for devot- 
ing unsanctified lads to the sacred office : she saw 
how many^ even of good men*s children^ profkned 
the ministry^ and turned to any course that did but 
serve their worldly interest ; that she was vehemently 
£^adnst addicting any to that office^ that had not be- 
sides good vrits and parts^ so great a love to God and 
souls^ as to come to it with absolute self-denial^ re- 
soh%d to serve Christ at the dearest rates^ and take 
his acceptance^ and the winning of souls for their be* 

She was not willing to entice any into the way of 
the ministry^ as a common trade to live by in the 
world 3 and would have had two or three readings 
writings and catechising schools set up, instead of one 
grammar-school : and she would not have parents 
mdce scholars of bad children, nor send them to the 
Universities, lest when they had a little wordy learn- 
ing they should make themselves ministers, whether 
their parents would or not -, and so a swarm of such 
as had been a few years at the University, should 
think a benefice their due, and take the charge of the 
souls of many, that jiever knew the worth of one, 
nor how it must be qualified, or guided. 


S}. Her expectations of liberality to the'* poor 
from others were too high> and her displeasure too 
great towards them that denied her 3 whereupon 
when she saw a worthy person in debt, or prison, or 
in great want, she would promise to gather them such 
a sum, and sometimes she was put to. pay most of it 
herself. But a fortnight or month before she died, 
she promised to get <£20, towards the relief of one of 
known name and worth, and could get but «£8, and 
somewhat over of it, and paid all the rest herself: 

22. Her judgment was, that we ought to give 
more or less to every one that asketh, if we have it; 
and that neighbourhood, and notice, and asking, next 
to known indigence, and great worth, are the marks by 
which to know to whom God would have us give. I 
thought, that besides these, we must exercise pru- 
dence in discerning the degrees of need and worth. 
But she practised as she thought, and especially to 
them in prison for debt 3 and blamed me if I denied 
any one. 

23. Alas ! I know many poor widows, and others, 
that think they have now lost a mother, and are left 
desolate, whom I could wish some that are able 
would help, instead of the help which they have lost. 

24* She was much more liberal to many of my 
own poor kindred than I was : but her way was not 
to maintain them in idleness, but to take children, 
and set them to some trade, or help them out of 
some special straits. 

25. To her own kindred she bare a most tender 
love : but her care was most to get them to be good, 
and save their souls, and next to settle them well in 
the world. I had ever been greatly avei)S^ to motion 
marriages, yet she even compelled me (first satisfy* 


ing my reason), to be a raotioner of a wife to her only^ 
brotber^s sen, -who^ U is said, was wortb to ^m 
above ,£^,000. And ber sister*s ebildren she loved 
as if they had been ber own, especially three daugh- 

26. Hiere are' some things chaiged on her as 
faults, which! shall mention. 1. That she busied 
her bead so mu€^ about churches, and works of cha- 
rity, and was not content to live privately and quiet- 
ly. But this is but what pro&ne un'bediievers say ^..^'* 
i^ainst all zeal and serious godliness ; What nee^''^ 
there all this ado ? Doth not Paul call some women 

his helps in the Gospel? He that know^ what it is • 
to do good, and makes it the business of his life in 
the world, and knows what it is to give account of 
our stewardship, and to be doomed as the tmprofit- 
able, slothful servant, will know how to answer this ' , 

27. Another accusation is, that she was wasteful, 
and imprudent in leaving me so much in debt. 

• To that I answer, (1.) Let any one that reads what 
went before, consider what she did, and he will not 
wonder at her debts : it was not to pamper her own 
body ', she used mean dothing, and a far meaner 
diet fbr her own person, I think much less than Cor- 
ndro*8 and L€ssiit8*a proportion. . 
' (2.) And she went into no debt but (by niortgage or 
otherwise) she gave the creditors good security for. 

(3.) But I confess she and I differed in this 3 1 
thought I Was to give but all my income, and not to 
borrow to give, unless in some public, or extraordi- 
nary case : she thought otherwise, that while she 
could give security^ she ought to borrow to relieve 

J t 


tbe poor^ espedaUy tbe most worthy. Nor did the 
draw upon us any deht» Irayt what Ulcere was not only 
sufficient secnrit^r for« but ^dso a fiedr pmepect ci0m* 
selves havii^ » coxnpetency Icd^ bad it pllsasad tJhd 
to lengthen her life ; and I am for from fearing want 


But so much for opening ^e eoovsc of her studies^ 
labours^ eoyimiaefi^ and indeed bar dtiiglits. 

CHAP. vm. 

Of her Mental Qualifications, and her Infirmities. 

I. I DOUBT not but some of these accusers will say, 
fVhy qppi you all t^i^? fVerenotyetu the master 9 aad 
do not you hereby praise yourself j srr ej^e wnfem thai 
she was tfour governess? 

' Answ. (1.) Perhaps love and grief may make me 
speak more than many will ibink fit. But though 
some passion blinfl the ju4|;iyient^ some dotb^ but 
suscitate it to duty ; and God made it to that end : 
and I will not be judged by any that never felt the 

(2.) Did not Christ say of Mary's box of ointment^ 
that it should be rem^pibered wherever that Qoq^ 
was preached ? And was it not Judas that fiiod^ 
What need thif wa^te? And were not the ^poor*s 
clothing, made by Dorcas, shewed to move P^er ? 
The poor we have always with us* Do the covetous 
believe^ that what we do to his people, we do to 

(3.) It was not mine which she gave^ but her own^ 
that I am now mentioning, and what she prociffed. 


{4.) But I am not aflhamed to have been much ruled 
hf her pnideiit love ia many things. And you will 
tbe less wonder ^etf I have told yon what she and 
I were. 

2. For nqwelf, ^my constant pahis^ and weaikness, 
and ministerial labo^irs, forbade me the care of out- 
ward things. I had nerer mnch known worldly 
eaves: before I wasmanied I had no need 5 after- 
waids she lodk the care on her s and disuse had 
maife it intolerable to me. I foel now more of it 


timn ever I did> when yet I have so little a way to 

9. And as for her (I speak the truth), her appre- 
hensicm of such things was so much quicker, and 
more deeming than mine, that though I was natu- 
rafiy somewhat tenacious of my own conceptions, 
her- reasons, and my experience usually told me, that 
she was in the right, and knew more than I. She 
wpuld at the first hearing understand the matter bet« 
ter 4l»an I could do by many and lon^ thoughts. 

4. And the excelleney of her reason lay not so 
mueh in tlie speculative, as the prudential, practical 
part: I must say, that in this 1 never knew her 
equal. In very hard cases about what was to be 
done, she would eudcknly open all the way ihat was 
to be opened, in things of ibe family, estate, or any 
cHU business. And to confess the truth, experience 
acquainted her,- that i knew less in such iMngs than 
she> and therefore was willing «he should take it all 
upon her. 

$. Yea, I will say that, which they that believe me 
to be no liar, will wonder at 5 Except in ca$e» that 
reqime teaming, and skill in theological difficuhie$, 
shewa* better at resolving a ease of conscience than mo9t 


divines that ever I knew in cUl my life. I often put 
oases to her^ which she suddenly so resolved, as to 
convince me of some degree of oversight in my own 
resolution. Insomuch that of late years, I confess, 
that I was used to put all, save secret cases, to her, 
and hear what she could say. Abundance of difficul- 
ties were brought me, some about restitution, some 
about injuries, some about references, some about 
vows, some about marriage promises, and many such 
like } and she would lay all the circumstances pre- 
sently together, compare them, and give me a more 
exact resolution than I could do. 

6. As to religion, we were so perfectly of one 
mind, that I know not that she di£fered from me in 
any one point, jor scarce a circumstance, except in 
the prudential management of what we were agreed 
in. She was for universal love of all true Christians, 
and against appropriating the church to a party, and 
against cenaorioui^ness and partiality in religion i she 
was for acknowledging all that is of , God in .Co||form- 
ists and Nonconformists : but she had mucfi more 
reverence for the elder Conformists than /or i^ost of 
the young ones, who ventured upon things which 
Dissenters had so much to say against, without 
weighing; oj: understanding the reasons on both 
sides, merely following others for worldly ends, withr 

* out a tender fear of sinning 3 especiaUy if any young 
men of her own friends were inclined merely to swim 
with the stream, without due trial of the case, it 
greatly displeased her, and she thought hardly of 

7. She had in her youth been tempted to doubt of 
the life to come, and of the truth of the Scripture > 
but she w^ 90 fully resolved and 99ttled herein, tha 


iier confident assurance of it was the life of all her 
lifb and practice. 

8. After all the donbts of her sincerity and salva-' 
tion^ and all the fears and sadness thereupon^ which 
east her into melancholy^ she so far overcame them 
all, that for near these nineteen years that I have 
lived with ber^ I think I never heard her thrice speak 
a doubting word of her salvation, but oft of her hope^ 
fui persuasions, that we should live together in hea<^ 
ven. It b6ing my judgment and constant practice, 
to make those that I teach, understand, that the Gos** 
pel is glad tidings of great joy > and that holiness 
lies especially in delighting in God, his word and 
works; and in his joyful praise, and hopes of glory y 
and longing for, and seeking the heavenly Jerusalem ^ 
and living as fruitfully to the church and others, as 
we can do in the world: and that tiiis must be 
wrought by the mo^t b^ieving apprehensions of 
God*s goodness, as equal to his greatness, and of his 
great love to mankind meoiifested in our nedemption^ 
and by believing the grace and riches of Christ, and 
the comforting office of the Holy Ghost, and study>- 
ing daily God's promises and mercies, and our ever^ 
lasting joys. And that religion consists in doing 
God*s commanding will, and quietly and joyfiiUy 
trusting and resting in his promising and disposing 
will. And that fear and sorrow are but to remove 
impediments, and further aU this. 

And this doctrine by degrees she drunk in, and so 
fully consented to, that (though timcumisness was her 
disease) her judgment was quieted and settled herein. 

9. The nature of true religion, holiness, obediehce, 
and all duty to God and man^ was printed in her con** 
ceptions in so distinct and clear a c;^acter, as 

78 * liEMOIBS OP 

nuide ber endeavoura and expeclatioBs sUHi Ibok at 
greater exactness, than I and such as I cottid reocb. 
She was very desiroiu that we should aU haiw lired 
fti tt constancy of derotionj and a Maaekss inaocm** 
oy : and in this respect she iwms the ineeteathd|ttr 
that I ookM hare had in Uie wcvld (thact evmt I was 
aoqiMunted with) : far I was apt to \^ orviWi-candesB 
itt my speech, and too kidEward to nay jte^ ', and 
aftxe was stffl endeaTOuring to bring woe to gneotet 
waidness and stoistness ia both^ If I wp^kit rashly or 
ahAfply, it offended her r if I canied it (aa I was apt) 
witik too much neglect of eereanoay, orhuaoblecOfii^ 
pliment to any,, she would modestly teU tte of it : tf 
my very looks seemed not pleasant, she w«mld hctre 
had Bie amend them (whieh my weak, passed state of 
body bidispeeed me to do). If I fbrgat atiy week to 
^teehise my serranta, and fttmillarly instruct them 
penondly (besides my ordinary family-duties)^> she 
was tfoitbkd at my remissness. And whereM of Inte 
years my decay of spirits, and diseased heaTiness and 
pain, made me much noore seldom and cold m profit- 
able ccmference and discourse in soy house, thaa I 
had been when. 1 was younger, and had moreease,^ 
and spirits, and natural vigour, she much blamed me, 
fiiid was trouUed at it^ as a wrong to herself and 
others. Though yet hec judgment agreed with mine, 
thai too much and often table-talk of the best things,, 
doth but tend to dull the common hearera, uid har- 
den them under it as a customary thing : and that 
too much good talk mxf bring it into contempt, or 
make it ineffsctaaL 

And of late years, my constant weakness eLtki pain 
made me unable to speak much in my ordinary 
course of 4vty 3 and my writings, preachings and 


t)tker public duty (wkidi I evar thougttt I Wft9 bound 
to pf^er before fesser) did $6 whofly take up those 
few hours of the day, ivhich I had out of my bed, 
Itet 1 was seld^mer in secret prayer with my wife 
Ihttk- she desired* 

10. Indeed it trouUeth me to think how oft I told 
her^ that I never understood Solmof^s words, Eccles* 
viL 16, but by the expoeitioft of ber cAetse^ Be not 
fiffiOeans wermueh, neUher make thfteif over'toise: 
«d^ ^umldst ifcott destroy ikgself? I doubt not but 
8ci6man spake of human, eivU righteousness and wis* 
dem, as a meam respecting temporal pro^>erity or ad^ 
«srtiiy> rsdier than spiritual, holy righteousness, ks* 
peetiDg Qod's eyeiissting rcfward : or if it were ex*- 
tended to rdfigioas righteousness, it can be but 
i^;atn8t superstition, Islsely caAed righteousness. 

But as to our present ease, 1 must thus resolve the 
question. Whether one can be re%Joasfy isoise andr^^ 
teous oicermueh 9 And I answer. That we must ^^ 
tingulBh between^ I. Material and formal righteous^ 
ness, 2. Betweenolgixtvoeandsuhjeetwemeaisuresofit, 
Jtt Of the good and had consequents and effects, ' And 
1. No man ean htformcMy and properly too wise or 
too fighteosm. Else it would chai^ God with error 3 
&r lanual, proper righteousness is^ nothmg but our 
confimnity t& Qod's govermng wiH. And if our obe- 
dience were too much, and to be fotaraed, God's com« 
moods were to be bhuned, that requived it. But very 
strict actions sore commonly cafied r^hteousness, as a 
wnitten prayer or words aee caUed a prayer, thoi:^h 
piv^fieriy WB&tii]^ the form, it is not so. And not on* 
^ ly a good ot^ect, but a right end, principle, a^ 
mode, and cireusistaaceg^ go to make an action r^- 
teoua. % That action whidk compared with the ob* 



ject cannot possibly be over-wise and righteous^ yet 
as compared with the agent or subject, may be too 
much. No man can know, believe, or love God too 
much, nor answerable to his perfections. But one 
may possibly be transported with so earnest a desire 
of Grod, Christ, Christian society, holiness and hea- 
ven, as may be more than head and health can bear j 
and so it may be too much for the subject. 3. There- 
fore the probable effects must be weighed. He that 
should meditate, read, yea, love God so intensely as 
to distract him, would do it overmuch. He that 
would do a good work precisely, when the exactness 
would hinder the substance of another, perhaps a bet- 
ter, would be righteous overmuch. And I thought 
this the case sometimes of my decir wife; 1/ She set 
her head and heart ao intensely upon doing good,* 
that her head and body would hardly, bear it .. As ho- 
ly, set meditation is no duty to a. melancholy person 
that cannot do it without confusion and danger of 
distraction 3 so many other duties are no duties/ 
when^they will do more harm than good. . ^. And a 
man is limited in his capacity and his time. No mdft 
can-do all the good he would; and to omit a greater 
fbr the better doing of a lesser, or to omit the sub- : 
stancie of the one for exaeter doing of another, I. 
thought was to be unrighteous by being righteous 
overmuch. She (and some others) thought I. had ^ 
done better to have written fewer books, and to have. . 
done those few better-. I thought, while I wrote ^ 
none needlessly, the modal imperfection of two was 
less evil than the total omission of one. She thought 
I should have spent more tim^ in religious exercise 
with her, my family, and my neighbours, though I 
had written less. I thought there were many to da 




such Vfork, that would not do mine ; and that I chose 
the greatest^ which I durst not omit^ and could not 
do both in the measure that I desired else to harer 

11. As she saith (before dted) herself, that ifske 
was hut in a canditum, in which OotVs service was costly 
to her, it would make her know whether she was sincere 
or not ; so she had her wish> and proved her sincerity 
by her costliest obedience. It cost her not only her 
labout and estate^ but somewhat of her trouble of 
body and mind ^ for her knife was too keen^ and cut 
the sheath. Mer desires were more earnestly set on 
doing good^ than her tender mind and head could 
wdl bear 5 for indeed her great infirmity was the four 
passipns of Iotc^ desire, fear, and trouble of mind. 
Anger she either had «frery4ittle^ nesit none^ or little 
made it knowH. She rarely ever spake in an angry 
flianner , she could not well bear to hear one speak 
loud> or hastily, or eagerly, or angrily, even to those 
<haX deserved it. My temper in this she blamed, as 
too quick and earnest. When her serveinto did toify 
fault unwillingly^ she scarcely .ever tdtd them of it 5 
when one lost ten pounds worth of linen hi carriage 
carelessly, and another ten pounds worth of plate by 
negligence, she shewed no axiger at any such thing. 
If servants had" do^e amiss, and* we could not prove 
it, or knew not which did it, she would never ask 
them herself, nor suffer others, lest it should tempt 
jhem to hide it by a lie (unless it were a servant that 
feared Grod, and would not lie). 

I took her deep and long sense of the faults of over- 
loved and obliged persons, to be one of her grea,test 
faults . But no one was ever readier to forgive a fault 
confessed, or which weakness and religious dilfer-' 

^ E 2 

82 MBMOlBft OF 

sect caused. I will give but one instance: The 
good woman of whom she used to hive the looms over 
St, Jame^B market-house, was greatly against the 
Common Prayer, and first made my wife feeTwhether 
I meant to use it, before she* would take »t. ItoUL 
her I intended not to use it, but woidd not promise 
her. Upon that my w% tdd her that I woidd not. 
After this I caused the reader to read the Psalmsy 
Chapters, Creed, Decalogue, and I used the Lord's- 
praryer > and I openly told them, that we met not as* 
a separated, distinct church, but for the time to sup- 
ply the notorious necessities of die people, and as 
helpers of the allowed ministry. The good woman 
thought this had be^n reading the Common-Sprayer,, 
and in a letter which I now find, accused my wife with 
five or six vehement chai^ges, for teUing her I would 
not read the Common-prayer. My wife was of my 
mind, for the matter \ but greatly offended, with me 
for seeming to do it for the avoiding of danger f and 
was so far from not pardoning tilese&lse> smart ac» 
cusations, that she never once blamed the good wo- 
nuui, but loved her, tended her, and relieved her in 
sickness to the deaitk, but hardly forgave me; and 
yet drew me from idl other places, if ^e ministers 
ware not of my mind (by prudent diversity) . 

Much less did her sufferings from the tames dis- 
temper her. She halh blamed me for naming in 
print my losses, imprisonment, and other sufferings 
by the bishops, as being over-selfish querulottsness, 
when I should rather with wonder be thadifiil for 
the great mercy we yet ei^ojed« Thdag^ I think I 
never mentioned them as over-sensible of lAie suffer- 
ings, but as a necessary evincing of the nature of the 
cense, and as part of ^ necessary history or matter 



^ feet in on]tt to <fetoide it. ^fae o» tfiach disliked the 
di^nfcihg of die mtnlstersr, as aiirf ; tme she M not 
love to hear itmaeh e<Ma^lained of^ s^me as the pub- 
lie Ios9; dpr tot hear Conforhiists talked agahMt as a 
piirty} nor tlie fauTfir of the comidetitiotis sort of 
lliem aggravated in a sidings factious manner'. 

But (1.) She wilks prone tCf otetl&ve her retatkmy 
micF those good' ptiO]^^ (poor Ai mueh as rich) whom 
she thought most uprifght. The love was good, but 
thede^e wite too passibUftte. 

(%.) She'o9ef^«orrnes%desiredthen(' spiritual wetfiEU%< 
If iSliese whom she overloved, had not been as good, 
ftlid done as well a6 she wonld have them, in inno-' 
tttit behaviour, in piety, and (if rich) in liberality^ 
it dver-troubfted faef, and she could not bear it. 

(9.) Slie wa£f ^pt When ^he set her miild and heart 
tipon some ^ood vrofk which she counted great, or 
the v^ikre of somcf ^ear friend, to- be too much 
pleased in her expectations ^d self-made promises 
iyf Che success 3 and then ^dmost overturned with 
frbubfewhen they disafi^htted^ her.- Aud she too 
impatiently bore unMniines^s fh>m the friends that 
were mo£(f dear to ber, of -i^hom she had much obli* 
ged. Her wiU was set upon good, but her weakness 
eould not bear the crossing or frustration of it. 

IS. But the great infirmity whi«h tyrannized over 
her> was: a diseasedy^Ai/fifeitewy agamst whiobdie had 
Htde morti freeWiH or powei", lluin a miin in an ague 
or frost, against shaking cold. Her nature was prone 
to it 3 and 1 said before, abundance of ss^ accidents 
made that, and trouble of mindy her malady. Be^ 
sides (as she said) fom* thoies in dimgev of death.r 2. 
And the storming of he<^ mother's house hjMMtets, 

firing part^ killing, plundering, and threatening the 

84 ^ ir^B&oiBs of 

rest* S. The awakenings of her conversion. 4. The 
sentence of death by sickness presently, before her 
peace was settled. 5. The fire next her lodgings in 
Sweeting^s^alley, 6. The burning of a merchant, 
his wife and &mily, in Lothbury, over against her 
brother Upton's door, 7, The common terror and 
confusion at Duiuton's church in FUet-street, when 
they thought the church was fJaUingon their heads 
while I was preaching, and the people cast them*; 
selves down from the galleries. 8. Her mother's 
death. 9. The friendless state she thought she was 
then left in. 10. The great plague.* 11. Thet>urning^ 
of London,* 12. The crack and danger of her cham- 
ber in Aldertgate-Mtreei, 13. The crack and confu- 
sion at St. Jamds market-house. 14. The many 
fires and talk of firing since. !&. The common ru- 
mours of murderings and massacres. 16. The death 
and dangers of many of her friends, and my own ill* 
ness. More than all. these, concurred to make fear 
and aptness to be troubled, to be her disease ^ so that 
she much dr^med of fire and murderers ) and her 
own dreams worked half as dangerously on her as re« 
alities ; so that she could not bear the. clapping of a 
door, or any thing that had suddenness, noise or 

* The great Fire of LondoD begun on the 2d of September, 
1666i and in four da^s consamed nearly the whole of the dty within 
the walls. Great as thb calamity was, yet it proved the providen- 
tial cause of putting a stop to one of a far more tremendous luture. 
The Plague, which for a series of ages had, with very short inter- 
vals, visited our capital in its most dreadful forms, never appeared 
there again after rebuilding the. city in a more open and airy*^ 
manner. The last, the one referred to above, happened in the yter 
1665, when in about six months, at the lowest computation, a hun- 
dred and sixty thousand people fell by the destroying angel. 


fierceness in it. B^t all this was more the midady 
of her body than her soul 3 and I accounted had little 
moral guilt : ^nd I too)c it for an evidence of the 
power of grace, that so timorous a person, 1. Had 
overcome most of her fears of heU and God*s deser- 
tion. 2. And was more fearless, of persecution^ im^* 
prispnment, or losses and poverty thereby, than I, or 
any that I remember to have known. 

13. And though her spirits were so quick* and, she 
so apt to be troubled at men*s< sin whom she much 
loved, she greatly differed from me in her bearing 
with. them, and carriage towards them. My temper 
and judgment much led me to use my dependents, 
servants and friends, according to the rules of church- 
discipline 5 and if they heard not loving, private ad- 
monitions onee, twice, and thrice^ to- speak to them 
more 9harply> and then before others, and to turn 
them off if yet they would not. amend. But her way 
was to oblige them by all the love, kindness and 
bounty that she was able, and to bear with them year 
after year while there was hope, and at last not to 
desert them<» but still use them so as she thought was 
likeliest at least to keep them in a state of hope from 
the badness which displieency might cause. I could 
not have borne with a son, I think, as she could do, 
where her kindness was at her own choice ; and yet 
she more disliked the least fault than I did, and was 
more desirous of their greatest innqpency and exactniess. 

14. Indeed she was so much for calmness, delibe- 
ration, and doing nothing rashly, and in haste, and 
my. condition and business, as well as temper, made 
me do and speak much so suddenly, that she princi- 
pally differed from me, and blamed me in this y every 
coB^iderable case and business she would have me: 


take time to think much of before I did if^ or speaks 
or resolved of any thing. I knew the coansel was 
good for oile that could stay^ but not for onef that 
must ride post : I thought still I had but a little timie 
to lire ', I thought some considerable work still called 
fbr haste. I have these forty years been sensible of 
the sin of losing lime : I could not spare an hour : I 
thought I could understand the matters in question 
Its well at a few thoughts as in many dajrs ; and yet 
she (that had less work and more leisure, but) a fat 
quicker apprehension than mine, was aU for staying 
to consider, and against haste and eagerness in al- 
most every things and notwithstanding her over- 
quick And feeling temper^ was aU for xtiildttess, 
^mness, gentleness, pleasingness and serenity. 
' 15. She had an earnest desire of the conversiosr 
and salvation of her servants, and Was greatly tro^*- 
bled that so many of them (though tolerable in their 
work) went away ignorant, or strange to true godli- 
aess, as they came ; and such as were truly convert- 
ed with us she loved as children. 

16. One infirmity made her faiuHy in the omfiseion 
of much of her duty : she was wont to say, that she 
had fiDm her childhood imprinted a decfp foar and ha^ 
tred of hypocrisy on her mind, that she could never 
do the outside of ber duty, as to the speaking part, 
for feir of hypocrisy. 1 scarce ever met with a per- 
son that was aUer to speak long, for matter and good 
language, without repetitions, even about religious 
things ; and few that had more desire that it Were 
well done; and yet she' cotdd not do it herself for 
fear of seeming to be guilty of ostentation. In goo<l 
company she would speak little of that which she 
most desired to hear. When I was at any time from 


iiomie, Ab wooldiiot pfay in the fuiiUy^ though she 
icould not endure to be wiliiout it. She would pii- 
vatcfy talk to thie M«tant0> and fead good booki to 
^btm. Moot 0S the open tpeiking part of reKgion 
she omitted, through a diseased enmity^ to ostenta*- 
tion and hypocrifff . But of late yeais, whea she saw 
meaodothers too sparing of profitable ^)eech to 
young and ignorant people, she confessed that she 
nam her eraor, andtkittl own an hypocrite, using but 
the vards and aiatsids! of religion, was belto^ to 
eithera then silance and unpvofitahte omission was. 

17. Her household afiairs sheovdcved with so graat 
skill and daceac{y> aathat others muel^ praised that 
which I was no fit j»d{ge^of : I had heett bred urnong 
fSsdn, poor pcopk,. and I thought ihsl so much 
wasfaiag of istaira and i«>om% to keep- them as 
tlfian as their tnmcfaer^ and dishes, and so muelt 
ado alxNii deaaliness and trifles^ waa» a sinM cu- 
riosity, and expense of serrants* titne, who might 
that while have been readiBg> sotoegood book. But 
Ae that was otherwise bMdr had somewhat other 

IS» Her great tender iinpa<aency lay much In her 
ears : she could not bear (without great reason) a 
disputing contradietion ^ i^or yet to h^r sad tidings^ 
nor any hard prognostic } and ii was because she felt 
the weakness of her own head, and for twenty years 
Hired in too great fears of the overthrow of her un- 
derstanding. And I was apt to think it was but a 
passionate, fanciful four, and was too apt #» £» impa- 
tient wM. bar impa^icacy, and with every frmrhle of 
her mind, not enough cossideriag how great tender- 
ness in all our diacoufse die needed ; though I He- 
member nothing else that ever I shewed impatience 


to her in : but ever since her first danger^ and strong 
affection, I could hardly bear any signification of her 
displeasure and discontent. And she was wont oft 
to say, ' It is a great mercy of God not to know what 
will befel us in this world, nor how we shall be sick, 
or suffer, or die, that our foreknowledge may not an-^ 
tidpate our sorrows, though in the general we should 
always be ready.' 

19. She was the greatest honourer of her mother, 
and most sincerely loved her, that ' ever I ki^w a 
child do to a parent. She believed the promise of 
the fifth commandment, and believed that it did im- 
ply an answerable curse to them that broke it. And 
that as honouring parents hath even the promise of 
blessings on earth, so the dishonouring them is like 
to bring a curse upon the person or family that is 
guilty of it : and that how great soever their present 
prosperity may seem/ it is coming aad will ov^take 
them, either in thdr bodies, chil4ren/or estates. 
Tkt eye that mecketh at his father, and despiseth to 
obey his mother ^ the ravens of the valley shall pick t 
out, and tlf£ young eagles shall eat it ; Prov. xxx. 17* 
And ^uch by Moses's law were to be put to delith. 
ALL THE PEOPLE SAY, AMEN j Deut. xxvii. 16. 
And will God suspend it till the sinner saith. Amen 9 
O no. And what is that person's case that.liveth 
under this curse of God ? If the 6oc{y escape it, and 
posterity escape it, and the estate escape it, yea, and 
a seared^cofMctatce escape it a few years, the soul will 
not escape it for ever, without:' deep and thorough- 
repentance I for Christ hlith redeemed none but sin^^ 


cere penitents from the curse. Yea, even snch sel- 
dom escape the temporal^ sharp chastisement. 

And very worthy was her mother of her love and 
honour > all her letters to her when she was from 
home> I find now laid up by her as a treasure j I wiU 
transcribe ^part of some of them, that you may per* 
ceive her plain and honest care of her children's soulsv 

90. In one, 1657> to this daughter at Oxford, she 
writes thus: 

'^I cannot but put you in mind of your duty you 
owe to God ; 1 me«n, that you see that you lose not 
your time. If you be where you may improve your 
time for grace, and getting down sin, I shall give 
you my consent for your stay, (with her broiher Vjjh 
ton,. Canon of *Chrui Church.) But be ^uce you do 
not deceive yourself herein, fop Gk>d will not be 
mocked. He that doth righteously and liv^th to 
Christy shall enjoy all the blessings promised by God 
to them that trust him, and obey him. I bless my 
(xod, I have ray health as well as I can wish ; and 
my heart runs out wholly to God, in seeking a.Ues- 
sing for children, and children's children. O that I 
may- prevail by prayer to see suck hopes of you all, 
upon good grounds, as will be a gracious return to 
my prayers. This is my work. Be not you wanting 
to yourself, your endeavours and prayers aLso are 
neeessary. Who knows but God will give you that 
one thing necessary, which if you shall make it your 
chiefest choice, shall never be taken from you? Let 
the word of God dwell plentifully in you, that it. may 
be the rule of your life ; which is the prayer of your 

truly loving mother,. 

Mary, Hanmet^ 



' 90 KEMDlttS Ol^ 

%\. Id another^ 1657^ tiiui^ ! 

*< 1 kaow not why you should write in tears> be^ 
oinue of an apprehemion of my dispkasnre; find 
that yon can see it at so great a distance^ is strsm^ 
to me; If your infonnation be KUt God^ to whom you 
appeal^ look to it 5 if of men^ bdieire it not. Many 
Mse fears may arise^ for want of the tme ferar of of- 
fending a good and gracious God : all your i^rs, 
and all your joys must be founded in hiin> or else 
yc^ur life here wiU be very uncomfortable. Had not 
I my comforts from my God^ and not only in the 
creature^ I had sunk long since^ and often in despair. 
Talee my experience^ or rather hear the word of God^ 
wUch says^ li \m better io trust in God, than to put 
tm^idende m richei: it is better to trust m God, than 
Po put confidence in men. Be wdl acquainted with 
the wai of God^ and be sure in all things to please 
him, and then all other cares and fe^irs will be of no 
lvalue to you. O let it be your daily study, and let 
me in writing see some fruits of your labours, b^re 
I go hence and be seen here no more. Be not want- 
ing to your own comforts, and you cannot displease 
God nor your mother, who longs more after your 
eternal good, than I can now utter. My lore to you 
ali, and prayers fbryou all. I continue, 

Ycrar most tenderly loving mother, 


SSSt, In anoth^ to Oxford, 1657. 

' " Atti^ll mirkfbr good to them that love Godj I 

' hope you are one of those. The Loid direct your 

paths, that ycm may work out your salvation with 


fttar and trembling in your ^footh^ and not i«t time 
slip till age^ which will come {w death befoieit) 4H1 
siU flesh, and an account must be given of tkepreeions 
time which we now neglect. I have moie to aajr, 
but when I see you, it will be done with mme ease. 
The hard keq» you all, and make you fiuthf ul till 
death, that you may receive the crown of gleryi 
which is the prayer of her that tendeieth tfie good of 
your soul, 

^SL In 165d, In another die writes thus : 

''Itfydenr Child, 

'' My greatest trouble is» that I ca» 
have no better account of your health of body ; yet 
sorely the cure of the soul is of for more worth : 
therefore I faint not : else I could not subsist under 
the heavy stroke which I^ave justly deserved. Who 
knows, but my sins may be some cause of thy distoess 
of Soul ? However, let us return to the Lord, aadhe 
Wifl heal all our breaches, and will4iiad up all our 
flares, and will give us a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens, where we shall oevor be 
loieed asunder, and all infirmities shall be left be* 
hind ; and we shall take up all pleasure m the en* 
joyment of our heavenly Redeemer. In the mean 
time, let us with courage and confidence press hatd 
toward the mark, for the prize of that high calling 
vhich was set befbre us 3 fortheihmgMwimharMU^n 
are tempariU, but the things tohich are not' seen are 
eiemal. I can go no further, but cannot foiget to be 

Thy truly loving mother. 

92 IflCMOlES ot 

This was writtea to her in her sickness, wh^^ £>^ 
hetter air, she lay at old Mr, Richard Foley* 8 house at 

34. I have transcribed these, to shew the nund 
and care of the good gentlewoman, and what cause 
I and my neighbours had of compassion to her in her 
sorrows, when she was separated from an only son, 
whose weUaie she had prosecuted with so strong af-^ 
fiection, and long labour and patience, and began to 
have much comfort in this daughter whom she had 
formerly least valued, and thought she must so sud- 
denly leave her. Let those that think these too liCtle 
matters to be told the wodd, remember, that near" 
nus, love and sorrow, may be allow^ to make things 
greater to me, tkan they seem to those that are not 
so concerned in them > and thai Mr, Fox in his Book 
of Martyrs, publisheth a great number of as mecai let'' 
ters as any of these, even some of women, and some 
written to the martyrs, as witl as those written by them. 
And while I say that, I will add, that though for 
nineteen years I was so seldom from her, that she had 
few letters of mine; yet those which she had I find 
now among her reserved papers : and that you may 
see what it was that I thought she most desired, and 
vf\k2X she herself most valued, I will here add one of 
them, not venturing to trouble such with more, as 
are affected little with any matters but their own, 
which is the case of most. I recite this rather than 
others, partly also as an act of repentance for those 
fkSings of her just expectations, by th^ neglect of 
such helps as I should have given her, which I had 
here mentioned. For though she oft said, that be- 
fore she married me she expected more sourness, and 
unsuitableness than she found 5 yet I am sure that 

• ■ 


she found less zeal^ and holiness^ and strictness in aU 
words^ and looks, and daties, and less help for her 
soul than she expected : and her temper was to ag« 
gravate a fault much more in her nearest and dearest 
friends than in any others, and to he far more trou« 
bled at then>. But this use she made of my too cold 
and careless converse, and of all my impatiency with 
her impatience, and of all my hasty words, that she 
that had long thought she had no grace, because she 
reached not higher than almost any reach on earth, 
and because she had many passions and infirmities, 
perceived by me and many other esteemed teachers, 
that we were all as bad as she 5 and thevefore grace 
doth stand with more faultiness than she had 
imagined, and that all our teaching much excelled 
the frame of our souls and lives^ and was much more 
worthy to be followed 5 and therefore that God 
would also pardon such failings tus her own. 

'^ Though I have received none from you, but one 
from Mr, H. I will not be avenged on you by the 
like. I have nothing of news or business to com- 
municate, but to tell you, that we are all here yet as 
well as you left us^ excepting what your absence 
causeth. And yet I must confess, I find that it is 
easier to be oft speaking to €rod, when I have no** 
body else to speak to, than when there are other com- 
petitors, expectants, or interpolators. Just as I can 
easier now fill my paper to thee, with some speech of 
God, when I have nothing else to put into it, than I 
can when many othei' matters are craving every one 
a place. It is oiir shame that the love and glory of 
God doth not silence every other suitor, and even in 
the midst of crowds and business take us up, and 


pien evsry cieatnitt and oeoaaioa tor their aervic^ 
Bttt wluk we ane wttk, and ooimpasBed wiHi flMth* 
we mtm aot only consider what we shimld do^ but 
whatwe con do. Itb our gieat feuiLttiiat we Me bo 
skUfUOer^aiMLfaiihfidler in hel|ringone another^ tkal 
we vdfjtit miaB each oliier oa better reaaonsj Aan 
merely liwn tfie hnlinationa of love. I hope God 
win makfi ub better hereaHUn^ that whto we are 
asunder, each of ns may say, '1 miss the hdlp jfior 
watehfohiesa and heavenliness, far tiue love and 
thankfblness to iiod, which 1 was wont to huAre.* 
Bat O, what an enemy is a naughty heart, whirfih 
maketh ns anable for our duty alone, and makes UB 
need the hcdp of odiers, and yet will not euffiar us to 
use it when we have it. When we are alone, it makr 
eth US ianpedimentB to ourselves, and when we ave 
in eomfMUiy it make^ us impe&aents to ollievs. 
Yet is there none, no, not the iveakest of Ghristtans, 
but there is much in them that we might improve. 
Bjttt we are so bad and badci^rd at it, tibat Satan too 
commonly hath his end, in making us unpcsfitahle 
to each other. If a good horse, or a good house be 
a valuable mercy, homr much more is a good friend ? 
But art and industry are necessary to the improve- 
mei^. And no wonder wlien we fetch not the help 
and comfort which we might have fhom God, from 
Christ htasaelf, fnuo. heaven, from Scriptiire^ fbr 
want of hnproving skill and industry. O how>easf 
is it, when our friends are taken from, us, to aay, 
^ Thus and tiius I mi^ht, and should have used tiiem,* 
ralher Unn so to use them whEe we have them 1 I 
hope God will help me to make some better use^of 
thee ¥^le we are togedier : and at a distance, O let 
tiot a hearty request to God fbr eaeb other, be ian^ 


d«y -witntiQg. I>ear hearty the tun« of our BOWtal 
hdlp is short (O kt ub use it accordingly) ; but the 
time of our reaping the fruit of thi0> and all holy •«»• 
deavour^ and preparatory mercies^ will be endless. 
Yet a little while> and we shall be both with Christ. 
He is willing of us^ and 1 hope we are willing of 
him, and of his grace, though the flesh be weak. I 
am absent, but Grod is still with you, your daily 
Guide and Keeper ; and I hope you will labour to 
make him your daily comfort. And now you hare 
none to divert and hinder you to say. When I awake^ 
I am itill with thee. And when you are up, I heme 
tet the Lord always before me; because he is at my 
right hand, I shall not be moved. And when tilioughts 
ttowd in. In the multitude of my thoughts within mej 
thy comforts delight my soul. And when thougtrts 
would trouble and perplex you. My meditation of him 
shall be sweet, and I will delight in the Lord. And 
when your "wants and duty call you to him. It is good 
for me to draw nigh to God. 

''All other comforts will be, as the things are 
which we take comfort in ; that is, helpful if the 
things be helpful, and used but as helps : hurtfiil if 
the things be hurtful, or hurtfully used; vain if tlSe 
thiDgs be vain ; short if the things be transitory; 
and durable if the things are durable to us. And this 
is the chief comfort which you and I must have in 
otte another, that is, as helpful towards God, and as 
our converse with him will be durable. The Lord 
forgive my great unprofitableness, and the sin that 
brought me under any .disabilities to answer your 
earnest and honest desires of greater helps than I af<^ 
ford you, and help me yet to amend it towards you. 
But though my soul be faulty and dull, and my 


stroigtli of nature fail^ be sure that he will be a thou- 
sandfold better to thee, even here, than such crooked, 
feeble, useless things, as is 

Thy R.B:' ' 
From Hampde^t 

€HAP. IX. 

Of her hodUy Infirmities, and her Death. 

1. Her diseased fearfulness, and many former 
sicknesses, I have mentioned before. A great pain 
of the head held her from her youth, two or three 
days every fortnight, or little more 3 and upon every 
thing that did irritate the matter, she had a constant 
straitness in the lungs, a great incapaci^ of much 
exercise, motion, or any heating thing. Ever since 
her sickness, 1659,' she hath lived in an ill-conceited 
fear of distraction, which greatly hurt her 3 it was 
because she had an aunt long so, deceased, and her 
parents were naturally passionate, and her spirits 
over-quick, and her blood thin and mobile 3 and 
though wisdom hid it from others in her converse, she 
felt the trouble of her own mind in things, as afore- 
said, that much displeased her ; and so lived in a con- 
stant fear, which tended to have brought on her what 
she feared : but her understanding was so far from 
failing, that it was higher and clearer than other 
people*s ; but like the treble strings of a lute strained 
up to the highest, sweet, but in continual danger. 

8. About) three years ago, by the mis-persuasion of 
a friend, drinking against the cholic a spoonful of 
powdered ginger every morning, near a quarter of a ' 


year together^ and then falling into some overwhelm- 
uig thoughts ', besides it overthrew her head for a 
few.days^ but God, in great oiercy/ soon restored her. 
3^. Ever since tha4; time her head-ach abated> and 
she cox^plained of a pain in one of her breasts, and her 
incurable timorousness settled her in a conceit that 
she should hai» a cancer (whidi I saw no great cause 
to fear) 5 but die could neither endure to hear that it 
was none^ or that it was -, but in fearing uncertainty^ 
prepared constantly for a sad death: and several 
Mends^ neighbours and rdattons, lately dying of can- 
cers, increased her fear ^ but she seemed to be pre* 
pared 9cheer£ally to undergo it. 

4. The many and weekly rumours of plots, firings, 
massacres, &c. much increased this fear, as is. afore- 
said ; and the death of very many neighbours, young, 
strong, and excellent Christians, of greatest use, and 
tn&ny near friends, did greatly add to her sadness and 
expectations of death. But little of this was seen to 
any -, she purposely parried it pleasantly, and as mer- 
rily to others^ when she was troubled. 

^. The fears of ^ cancer made her take the waters 
for physic often, and she kept down her body so in 
her diet, that about five ounces of milk, or milk and 
water, with a little chocolate in it, morning and 
nightj ajid about one or two bits at dinger was her 
diet for many yea^rs. 

6. At last, about ten wedcs before her sickness, al- • 
most all her pain went out of her breast, and all fixed 
in a constant pain upon the right kidney, and 
with the pain a stoppage took place, which caused 
her much inconvenience. She divers days drank 
Barnet Waters; but I think they were the iast 
occasion of her sickness, and too much Tincture of 


Amber^ which worked too poweifiilly on her brain^ 
and suddenly cast her into strong diBtnrbance and de- 
liration 3 in which, though the phyaidans, with great 
kindness and care, did omit nothing in their iwwer, 
she died the twelfth day. She fell aidL on JVidoy, 
June 3, ISBl, and died June 14. 

7. Though her understanding never patfect l yretufti* 
ed, she had a yery strong remembrance of the affect* 
ing passages of her life, from her dhildhood. Mrs. 
Corbet (whom she defarly loved, and had newly got 
into the house to be her companion), iwhh etthers, 
standing by, she cried out to me. My 'moHneris <i>» hea- 
ven, and Mr. Corbet is in heuven, and thou and I ihall 
be in heaven. And even in her last w«idcness was 
persuaded of her salvation. 

8. She oft shewed us, that her 90«d did work to-* 
wards God, crying out (comi^aining of her hc<ad), 
Lordy let me know what I have done, for tffhioh I under" 
go all this. Lord, 1 submit, God thooieth best 'for 
me. She desired me to pray by her, and seemed 
quietly to join to the end 3 she heard divers psalms, 
and a chapter read, and repeated part, and rang part 
of a psalm herself, The last vrords diat she spake 
werei My God help me, -Lord iutve mercy upon me, 

9. God had been so many years training her up 
under the expectatic^is and preparations fjor death, 
as made the case of her soul less grievous to me as 
no way doubting of her salvalion^ and knowing 
that a distracting fever, or frenzy, or an inflamma- 
tion, or disturbance of the animal spirits, or brain, 
or an imposthume may befal the best as soon as-the 
worst. I thank God that she was aei^r under any 
melancholy, which ten^pted her to any of ihose ^ole* 


f ul evils, which many scores, 1 think, that have been 
with me (of several ways of education) have been 
sadly tempted to. She near nineteen years lived with 
me cheerful, wise, and a very useful life, in constant 
love* and peace, and concord, except our differing 
opinions about trivial occurrences, or our disputing 
or differing ifiiiode ntf talk^ 

10. She was buried qii June \7, in Christ Church, 
m the wim, in her pwa paother's gi^ve. The grav9 
w^s the highest, aeitt the old altlMr or table in the 
chancel, on which, this her daughter had caused a 
very fair, rich, l^ge marbjbe stone to be bjd. Anno 
1^1, about twenty years ago j on which J caused 
to be written her titles, and some Latin vemes, and 
ijbese B^lish ones*: 

f* Thus must thy flesh to silent dust descend. 
Thy mirth aiid worldly pleasure thus will end : 
Tliep happy, holy 50uls, but woe to those 
Who heayeu forgot, and earthly pleasures chose : 
Hear now this preaching grave: without delay. 
Believe, repent, and work while it is d&y" 

But Christ* s Church on earth is liable to those 
changes of which the Jerusalem above is in no dan- 
ger. In the doleful flames of London, 1666, the fall 
.of the church broke tlus great iparble all to pieces, 
and it proved no lasting; monument ; and I hope this 
paper monument, erected by one that is following, 
even at the door, in some passion indeed of love ahd 
grief, but in sincerity of truth, will be more publicly 
^seful and d^pable than tfeat warble stone was. 




Some U$es proposed to the Reader from this Histort^, 
as the Reasons why I wrote it. 

If this narrative be useless to the readers^ it must 
needs be the sin of the publisher 3 for idle writing is 
worse than idle words. But 1 think it useftil (with 
that which followeth) to all these ends to considering^ 

1. It may help to convince those that are inclined 
to Sadduceism, or infidelity^ and believe not the testi- 
mony of the sanctifying Spirit to the truth of the 
Word of God> but take holiness^ as it differs from 
heathen morality, to be but fancy> hypocrisy, cus* 
tom, or self-conceit. A m^n that aever felt the 
working of God's special grace on his own heart, is 
hardly brought to believe that others have that which 
he never had himself. And this turneth usually to 
diabolical malignity, inclining them to hate those, 
and revile or despise them as deluded, proud, fanatic 
hypocrites, who pretend to be any better than they 
are, or to have that which they take to be but a con- 
ceit. All their religious thoughts they take for the 
dreams of crazed, or proud persons 3 and their holy 
discourse and prayers, but for canting, or vain bab- 
bling. But acquaintance, if intimate with gracious 
persons, might convince them of their mortal error 3 
and true history methinks may do much towards it. 
2. I confess, with thanks to God, that having these 
forty years found that all our holiness and comfort 
depends upon our certain persuasion of the life of 
iretribution following, and that our certainty of this 

Mils. MAROARBt BAXTEft. lOl 

ikpeiids upon our certain belief of the Holy Scrip<» 
tares ) and we being here in the dark^ and too i^t 
to doubt of all that we see not, there are several sen- 
sible/ dr experienced present certainties, which have 
been a great succour to my faith, td save me from 
temptations to unbelief and doubting, and confirm 
my assurance that the Scripture is 6od*s word. . 

I. In that I undoubtedly see and hear, that through 
all the. world there is just such a pravity in human 
nature, as the Scripture deseribeth for original sin 3 
which cannot be the state of man*s integrity, when 
hii^ reason is convinced of much of the duty tp God, 
man and himself, which he iViH not do, and of most 
of the great sins which he will not forsake.- 

H, I see the Scripture clearly verified in menr 
tionii^ the common enmity and war between the 
serpent's and the holy seed; it i$ notorious through 
the world, in aU ajges and countries, an enmity which 
norelation or intei^t reconcileth. 

III. I feel and see the Scripture verified, which 
deseribeth all the temptatione of Satan, and the se- 
cret war within us between the Spirit and the flesh. 

IV. And I feel and see the Scriptutie fulfilled, which 
promiseth a blessihg on.6od*s word, and hisordi-o 

V. And I feel and see the Scripture fulfilled, which 
deseribeth tbe renewing work of tl^ Holy Ghost, 
and the spiritual difference of the sanctified from iJ) 
others. This is not only in myself, but in others (Q 
how many hundred hdy persons have I known) the 
witness of Christ's truth and power 3 and as Joshua* » 
and Caleb's bunch of grapes, to assure me of the 
land of promise, and God's truth which I see fulfflle^ 


in thisoi. Can I doubt of holiness when I 1^1 it, 
And set; it in the efiPecfs > 

VI. Ehren as it pers^k&detli toe tliig more ^sMy to 
beli^v^ thftt ihefe kfe devils^ wtten I see thdr v^'ty 
nattire ttid works^ lA dev^s i)ic&ma;tii, and 0e6 ^#)M 
a kingdom he plainlj^ raleth ih t^e #otM 3 AQd fd 
believe that there is a hell^ wh^n t see 1^0 mixdHk 6t hefi 

8. It may teach us that tbe kate df godllne^ is 
not td be judged of by the feat's and som^WsiniHiiish 
it tisttally begins i a m&n'd lt9t is not like h^ inflincy 
at his birth. The feai^ and penitent sorrows which 
^lish^ fleshly sinners fly IVoni> do tend to c^^eflastitf g 
peace and joy i and peifSct lote tVill tMt out all lar-» 
menting feai%> unleifts it be tliose of a tioiototis dis- 
eased tettiper^ v^ioh have mott of sickn^^^ than of 
sin> and will be laid ai^de with the bbdy^ whith was 
theik* cause. A life of peaee and joy on earth tm^ 
succeed the tremblings Of the new-born conveirt f but 
a Ills of Mi emeiiasting joy Will certainly succeed the 
perseveftince and vietory of every beiievi^ h<^y 9ouL 

4. It may wairn aU to tidK heed of e&tpecting too 
mueh frotn so tesSl and bad a ^ng as man. My 
dear wife did look for more good' in tne> and more 
help from me than she founds especially lately in my 
w^sakneas attd decay. We are aH like pictnres that 
must not be Idoked on too neav. Tbey that come 
near us find mote fa&hs and badi^ss ici us than others 
at a distance know. 

6. It should greatly warn tts to take heed of small 
beginnings ; even a spark of afiettion^ honest in the 
Idnd^ may kindle a flame not easily quenched. How 
gveat a matter miay a little fire kindle i Almost all 


Bin begino^JAi in a seed or ^ark, which is very havdly 
known to b^ a flin or danger. 

6. Yea>. i% should warn all to. keep aU tii&thoughtSi 
nffecUons and pasaimu under a constant watch and 
ob^^pce to God) and know first, whether. God 
command theoi and allow them. 

T* And thia history may teach us, that though 
Qod usually begin (as is said) our conversion in fear^ 
and p&nifynU wrrowt, it is holy and heavenly joy 
whidi it tendelli to^ as more desirable 5 and we should 
chi^y seek>. and should labour to moderate fear and 
sorrow, and not think we can never have enough. It 
is too common an error with honest socil»^ to think 
tblit a bard heart lieth most in want of sorrow and 
tears, when as it lieth most in want of a tractable 
comidiance, and yielding to the commands and will 
of God, and in an iron ned^, and obstinate diso^ 
b^ience to God 3 and. to tliink that a new and ten* 
ji^r heart is principally a heart that can weep and 
mQumi when it is chiefly a heart that easily reoeiveth 
all thQ imfo^wipua of God's eommaods, and promises, 
and threats^ and easily yieldeth to his known will. 

8« And thi$ may greatly warn us to fear and avoid 
s^ykpHhi^^ i I nieaD> a will of our own that runs 
before the will of God^ and is too much set on any 
thing which God bath not promised, and knows not 
bpw to bear a frustration or denial> but saith aa Ba^ 
iiheh GiVi^M ntn, or I die^ We must learn to follow, 
and not to lead, and to say> 'The will of the Lord be 
dane $ not mine, JU^rd^ but thine 5* and in every es* 
tate to b^ conti^nt. There is no rest but in God*s wiU, 

9. Yet this tells us, that God dealeth better with 
his wes^ servants than they deserve, and turneth 


that ofttimes to their good, which they deserved 
should have been their greatest suffering. 

10. This history (and my great experience) saith, 
that there is a friend that iticketh closer than a bro*' 
ther ; Prov. xviii. 24. f and that it was God's Spirit 
that said^ Thy own friend, and thy father's friend for ^ 
sake not: neither go into thy brother's house in the day 
of thy calamity ; for better is a neighbour that is near, 
than a brother that is far effi Frov. xxvii. 10. . 

11. Tliis history tells us how great a mercy it is 
to have a body meet to serve the seul^ and how great 
an affliction to have an unruly inclination from the 
body's temper 5 and what a tyrant excessive fear is, 
and how great a blessing it is to have such a passion 
as faith can. rule, and easily quiet. 

1^. It tells you also how manifold temptations atid 
afflictions God's servants are liable to in this Ufa. 

13. And it tells you, that our greatest good or evil 
is nearest us. Next God, the best is in our souls> 
and there is the worst $ and next in our bodies, and 
next in pur nearest friends. And it may teach «U to 
expect their greatest sorrows from tiK>se> or that 
which they most excessively love, and from whom 
they have the highest expectations^ : only God can* 
not be loved more than he deserveth. Sorrow be- 
ginneth in inordinate love, and joy in good, 

14. And it tells< us, that God's service lieth more 
in deeds than in words. My diear wifis was &ulty 
indeed in talking so- little of veligicn in company (ex- 
cept it were irresistibly to confute in a few words an 
(^poser, or reviTer of religion). But her religion lay 
in doing more than talk. 

15. Yet her example tells us, that it is one of Sa- 


tan's wfles to draw us to one sin to avoid ai^other $ 
and to make us think that nothing is a due that hath 
great inconveniences^ or which we ean foresee sobm 
men ^ill receive hurt from > andso tb he unrighteous 
by being righteous overmuch^ and leave much un-^ 
done for fear of doi^ it amiss ; by which rule w« 
should scarce ever do any thing that God commands ) 
He that ohserveth the winds shall not sow, and he that 
regardeth the clouds shall not reap ; Eecles. xi. 4. I 
speak this on her (at last confessed) error of omitting 
seasonable speech and duty to avoid hypocrisy and 
ostentation^ which my great friend> Judge Hale, was 
just so guilty of^ as 1 know^ and the writers of his 
life confess 3 he would make no great show of zeid 
in religion^ lest if he did any thing amiss^ religion 
should be reproached for his sake. Cardinal Rich- 
lieu was wont t» say (as is written of him)^ that he 
hated no couns^ers more than those that were always 
sayings Let us doii hette^i by that hindering the do* 
ing of much at all. 

16. You see here that suitableness in religious 
judgment and dispositiea preserveth faster love and 
concord, (as it did with its) than suitableness in age, 
education and wealth 5 but yet those should not be 
imprudently n^lected. Nothing causeth so near, 
and fast, and comfortable a union, as to be united in 
one God, one Christ, one Spirit, one faith, one church, 
one hope of heavenly glory ; yet accidental unsuit- 
ableness should be avoided as far as may be. 

17. There are some great men who know their 
own names, who (as I have most credible informa- 
tion) have^ to greater than themselves, represented 
me not only as covetous, but as mutable for my mar-^- 


p 2 

K)6 ItEMOl&S OF 

lb whom I miW giv« this sstisfiictiom. I. As to 
eoviitottsties&j my titidicadon is a matter unfit for the 
^ftrs of the -woMy if revetend men's baokbitu^ (the 
stttii^ thM troubles owr commoti peace) dkl not make 
it paitilf metxfsstary. ThnMigh God's nierOf > and her 
t>nident care^ i Hved in plenty^ «Bd so do atttU though 
tr0i without b6hig greatly behiddien to ditrew friends } 
and I am not poorer than when I mamed^ butit is 
not by marriage^ nor by «ny thing that washdr'e be- 

9. And as to my mutability. ^Whereas one oi 
them reports that I said to him^ that I thought the 
inartiage of ministers had so great inconveniences^ that 
though ntcemty made vt lat»Jul, yet it toas^ bmt ktwfid ; 
thiU; is, t^ he avoided us far as iamfMy we ma^. I 
answer^ that I did say so to him 5 and I tss^fet ehaag- 
ed my ju^memt y yen^ my ivife lived naddied in the 
same mind. And I here freely adfidae att minlsiere 
that liave not some kitid of necessity^ to think of 
these few reasons among many. 

1. The wodc of the sacred ministry is enough to 
take up the whole man, if he had the strength aad 
parts of many men% "O Yuan much is there to do of- 
tentimes with oat ignoramtj or 80ttndfdoufl> or sflid> 
despairing sonl 1 And who is sufficient for all 
to be done to htindfedfr or thousands } In the primi- 
tive church every congregation had many ministen 3 
but covetousness of clergy and people vriH now scarce 
allow two to very great parishes. I did not marry 
till I was sileneed and ejected, and had no flock or 
pastoral cure; Believe it, he that wUl hai»e a wife, 
must spend nixich of his ttme in conference^ pra^Fer^ 
and other feunily-duties with her. And if he have 
children^ O how much care, time^ and labour wiil 



t^y Inquire I I know k^ though I hav^ none. And 
h^ that hfitk aemnti.. must spend time in teaching 
ibfiva, and in other duties foe them 5 besides the 
Xim», and perha|ia caring thoughts that all his family 
expenses and affairs will requirc. And then it wik 
disquiet a man's mind to think that he must neglect 
his family or his flock> and hath undertaken more 
Xim^ \i» can do* My oonsdeaee bath forced me many 
timM to omit secret fixayer witb my wifo when she 
dewed it, for want of time, not daring to omit far 
j^reatttr worit,. 

9, And a mmster can scarce look to win much on 
hi9 iloek^ if he be not able to oblige them by gifts of 
ctority and lifae naiity . And a married man hath sel- 
40171 SAy thing to spam, especially if he have chil-^ 
dr^n Ittott must he prowidsd for, all will seem too lit- 
tliefortbfim. Or if he have none, housekeeping is 
eharg^le, when a single man may have entertain- 
ment at easy nates ^ and most women are weak, and 
apt to liVie in fear of want, if not in coveU^sness^ 
a^d ha^e many wants, real or fancied, of their own 
to besiipplifid. 

3^ in A wond. Si Pmd'a own words are plain to 
olibtftSy but concern uiimsters much more than other 
aeien ; I would that all men were as I myeelf- — It is 
S^»dfor them if they abide even tu I; I Cor. vii. 7^ 8-. 
S^ch.fhM have iroubJein theJMi; ver. ^. I would 
hftGe you without ear^ubiess. He 4hat is wtmarried, 
carethfar the things that belong to the Lord, how he 
may please the Lord: but he thalis married, carethfbr 
the things of the world, how he may please his wife ; 
vfer.. 39> This isjtme. And believe it, both caring 
for the things of the world, and caring to please one 
amvUier, a^ bufflnesses, and troublesome businesses > 

f08 M'fiMOiRS OF 

care for houae-reQt> for children^ for servant's wages, 
lor food and raiment, but above all for debts, are 
veryttoublesome things; and if cares choke the 
^ord in hearers, they wiU be very unfit for the mind 
of a student, and a man that should still dwell on 
holy things. * 

And the pleasing of a wife Us umd&y no easy task.' 
there is an unsulCableness in th^ l^t, and wisest, and 
likest. Faces are not so unlike as the apprehensions 
of the mind. They that agree in religion, in love 
and interest, yet may have daily di£ferent apprehen- 
sions about occasional occurrences> persons, things, 
words, &c. That wUl seem the best way to one 
^at seems worst to the other. And passions are apt 
Its Sijicceedf and serve these differences. Very good 
people are very hard to be pleased : my own dear 
wife had high desires of my doing, and speaking bet- 
ter than I did, but my badness made it hard to me 
to do better. But this was my benefit -, for it was 
but to put me on to be better : as God himself will 
be pleased: that it Is hard to please God and holy 
persons, is only our fault. But there are too many 
that will not be pleased, unless you will contribute to 
their sin, their pridci their wastefulness, their super- 
fluities and childish fancies, their covetousness and 
passions : and too many who have such passion, that 
it requireth greater skill to please them,, than almost 
any, the wisest can attain. And the discontents and 
displeasure of one that is so near you, will be aS' 
thorns or nettles in your bed. * . 

And Paul concludeth, to be lumarried is the bet- 
ter, that we may attend the Lord without distraction; 
v«r.35. 38. 

And what need we more than Christ's own words,> 


Matt. xix. 10— 19. ? When they said then, It it not 
good to marry, he answers^ All men cannot receive this 
saying, save they to whom it is given ; for there are 
some eunuchs, who were so bom from their mother*s 
womb ; and there are some euMichs who were made 
eunuchs by men; and there be eunuchs which have made 
themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven* s sokes 
he that is able to receive it, let him receive it, 

O how many sad and careful hours might many a 
minister have prevented } and how much more good 
might he have done^ if (being under no necessity) 
he had been sooner wise in this ! 

16. Another use of this history is, to shew men; 
that it is not God's or our enemies' afflicting uS in 
worldly losses or suflferings (especially when we suffer 
for righfeousness* sake) which is half so painful, as 
our own inward infirmities. A man^s spirit can bear 
his infirmities of outward crosses ^ but a wounded 
spirit who ean bear I My poor wife made nothing 
of prisons, distraiuings, reproaches, and such crosses ; 
but her burden was most inward, from her own ten- 
derness, and next from those whom she overloved. 
And for mine own part, all that ever either enemies or 
Mends have done against me, is but a trifle 
to me, in comparison of the daily burden of a pained 
body, and the weakness of my soul in faith, hope> 
love, and heavenly desires and delights. 

19. And here you may see, how necessary pa-^ 
tience is, and to have a mind fortified beforehand 
against all sorts of sufferings, that in our patience 
we may possess our souls. And that the dearest 
friends must expect to find much in one another that 
must be borne with, and exerdse our patience:, we 
are all imperfect. It hath made me many a time 


iroBder at the prelates^ that can think it Use way^ to 
the eoocDrd of millioiis, to foroe theia to Gonsent to 
all thehr imposittoas^ even of wditis, and promifes, 
and eeieoloniety and that in things where conscience 
snoBt be most cantelons^ wheBeas even husband and 
wife, master and servants have aknost daily differ- 
enees in judging of their common al&drs. 

20. And bf thia bistoiy you may see, how little 
canse we have to be over««erious about any worldly 
■Mtters, and to mind and do them with too much 
iatesseoess of affiection ; and how nacessaxy it is to 
possess them as if we possessed them not, seeing the 
time is short, and the feshion of Ma world passeth 
away. And how veascmable it is, that if we love 
God> oursdvies, yea, or our friends, that we .should 
long to be wiHi Chnst, where they wee fhr more 
amiable thatt here, and wheve ia the city of Grod, the 
Jermalem wAx/ve, we diall deUghtfuMy dweQ with 
them for ever : whereas here we were stUl siun to 
stay with them but a little while. And had we here 
known Chriat after the flesh, we should so know him 
no more : w^reas belieoing that we shall soon be 
with hm, even those that never saw lum, may re- 
joice with joy unspeakable and Ml of glory. 

21. Lasdy, have yon Biay see that as God*s ser« 
va^As have not thw portion of good thmgs in this 
life, so they may have the same sidoiesfies and man- 
ner of deaih as others : Laxarw may lie and die in 
hts sores, among the dogs at the door, when Diioes 
may have a pompons life and Amend. There is no 
judging of a man's sinceriity, or of his future state, 
by his disease^ or by his diseased deathbed words. 
He thatliiseth to God, shall die safely into the hand 
of God, Uiough a fever or deliration hinder him £rom 


knowing this^ till experience and sudden possession 
of heaven convince him. Blessed are the dead that 
die in the Lord, from henceforth ; yea, saith the Spirit, 
that they may rest from their labours, and their works 
do follow them; Rev. xiv. 13". Therefore in our 
greatest straits and sufferings^ let us comfort one 
another with these words. That we shall for ever be 
with the Lord, Had I been to possess the company 
of my friends in this life only, how short would our 
comfortable converse have been ! But now I shall 
live with them in the heavenly city of God for ever. 
And they being there of the same mind with my for- 
givii^ God and Saviour, will forgive all my failings, 
neglects and injuries, as God forgiveth them and me. 
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; and 
he hath taken away but that upon my desert, which 
he had given me undeservedly near nineteen years. 
Blessed be the name of the Lord. I am waiting to 
be next : the door is open. Death will quickly draw 
the veil, and make us see how near we were to God 
and one another, and did not (sufficiently) know it. 
Farewell vain world, and welcome true everlasting 

Hoc migraturvs scrqvsi sub imagine Carmen. 

Fareivxll vain world : As tbou hast been to me 
Dast and a shadow, such I leave to thee* 
The unseen life and svbOance I commit 
To him that*s Substance, Life, Light, Love to it. 
Some leaves and fruit are dropt for soil and seed ; 
Heaven's heirs to generate ; to heal and feed : 
Them also thou wilt flatter and molest. 
But shalt not keep from Everlasting Best. 





Taken principally fiom a Fanerml Sermoa preached Rt St. Mary Sagdt 
lene's Church, Milk Street, Londoo, by Mr. Richard Baxter. 

The person whose death did occasion this account, 
was the widow first, of Francis Charlton, E$q,, and 
after of T/tomo^ lifaftmer, £sg. About five years ago 
(in 1656) she removed torn her ancient habitation, at 
Appley in Shropshire, to Kidderminster, where she 
lived under my pastoral care till I was come up to 
London: and before she had lived there a twelve- 
month (for thither she removed), she died of the 
fever, then very common in the city. 

She lived among us an example of prudenee, gravity, 
sobriety, righteousness, piety, charity and self-denial, 
and was truly what I have described her to be> and 
much more j for I use not to flatter the living, much 
less the dead. And though I had personal acquaint- 
ance with her for no longer a time than I have men- 
tion/ed, yet I think it worthy the mentioning, which 
I understand by comparing her last years with what 
is said of her former time, by those that were then 
nearest to her, and so were at her death, that where- 
as as I have said, sudden passion was the sin that, 
she was wont much to complain of, she had not con^ 


tented herself with mere complainings^ but so effec- 
tually resisted thein^ and apptied God*s remedies for 
the healing of her nature^- tlviL]b< the success vrns very 
much observed by those about her^ and the change 
and cure so great herein^ as was a comfort to her 
nearest relations^ that had the benefit of her con- 
verse : which I mention as a thing that shews us, 1. 
That even the infirmities that are founded in nature 
and temperature of body, are curable so far as they 
fall under the dominion of a sanclified will. 2. That 
even in age, when such passions usually get ground, 
and infirmities of mind increase with infirmities of 
body, yet grace can effectually do its work. 3, That 
to attend <9bd in his means, for the subduing of any 
corruption, is not in vain. 4. That as God hath pro- 
mised growth of grace, and Nourishing in old age, 
so in hit way W6 may expect the fulfilling of his pro- 
noise. 5. That as grace increaseth, infirmities and 
oormptions of the soul will vanish. 
' This makes me call to mind that she was once so 
much taken with a sermon which I preached, at the 
funeral of a holy, aged woman,^ and so sensibly oft 
recited the text itself as much affecting her -, {For 
yihii^ cams^ we faint not ; but though our outward man 
perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day, S^, -, 
^Cor. iv. 16, 175) that I am persuaded both the 

* Good old Mn^ Dooghtj» sooetimeof Shiewibury, wboha^ 
long walked with God, and longed to be with him ; and wa| 
amoDg us an exceUeut example of holiness, blamelessness, contempt 
of the world, constancy, patience, humility, and (which makes it 
strange) a great and constant desire to die, though she was still 
conpiaioiflg of doubtlngs and weakness of assurance. 

MRSv imXTBB's MOTHER. llg 

text itadf^ and the e&ai|^])^<i|)€iiMd (and if ell kno^ 
tb ]»Nr> did he^ much good** 

What cause have ^nFe «dW to'uiik our sorrows for 
otir deceased friend, witb' the joys of ildth for her fe* 
lieity 1 We have left the body to the earth, and that 
is our lawful sorrow, for it is the fruit of sin. But 
her spirit is received by Jesus Christ ; and that must 
be our joy, if i^e will behave ourselves as true be- 
Hcrera. If we can suffer with her, should we not re- 
joice also with h^r > And if the joy be far greater to 
th^ tool with Christ, than the ruined state of the 
body can be lamentable, it is bat reason that our joy 
should be gi-eater for her joy, than our sorrow for the 
diilsolution of the flesh. We that should not much 
lailient the passage of a friend beyond the seas, if it 
were to be advanced to a kingdom, should less lament 
the passage of a soul to Christ, if it were not for the 
remDant of our woeful unbelief. 

She is arrived at the everlasting rest, where the 
bttrdea of corruption, the contradictions of the flesh, 
the molestations of the tempter, the troubles of the 
w6dd, and the injuries of malicious men, are all kept 
oat, and shall never more disturb her peace. She 
hath left us in these storms, who have more cause 
to Weep for ourselves and for our children that have^ 
yet so much to do and sufi)sr, and so many dangers 
to fxiss through, than for the souls that are at rest 
with Christ We are capable of no higher hopes 
than to attain th«t dtate of blessedness which her soul 
possesseth. And shall we make that the matter of 
o«r lamentatkMi as to her, which we make the mat- 
ter of our hopes as to ourselves } Do we labour ear- 
nestly to oome thither, and yet lament that she is 


there ? You will say. It 19 not iieeaiise she is doth^ 
ed upon with the house from heaven, hut that she is 
unclothed of the flesh : But is there any other pas* 
sage than death unto immortality } Must we not be 
unclothed, before the garments of glory can be put 
on ? She bemoaneth not her own dissolved body 1 
the glorified soul can easily bear the corruption of 
the flesh : and if you saw bat what the soul eijoyeth, 
you would be like-minded, and be moderate in your 
grief. Love not yourselves so as to be ui\)ust and 
unmerciful in your desires to your friends. Let Satan 
desire to keep them out of heaven, but do not you 
desire it. You may desire your own good, but not 
so as to deprive your friends of theirs ; yea, of a 
greater good, that you may have a lesser by it. And 
if it be their company that you desire, in reason you 
should be glad that they are gone to dweU where you 
must dwell for ever, and therefore may for ever have 
. their company. Had they staid on earth, you would 
have had their company but a little while, because 
you must make so short a stay yourselves. Let them 
therefore begin their journey before you, and grudge 
not thai they are first at home, as long as you expect 
to find them there. In the meantime, he that caUed 
them from you, hath not left you comfortless : he is 
with you himself, who is better than a mother^ or 
than ten thousand friends. When grief or negligence 
hindereth you from observing him, yet he is with you, 
and hc^deth you up, and tenderly provideth for you. 
Though turbulent passions ii^uriously question all 
his love, and cause you to give him unmanneriy and 
unthankful words, yet still he beareth with you, and 
foigiveth all, and doth not forsake you for your 
peevishness and weakness, because you are his chil- 

MRS. BAXTK-R's iiiOTHER. 117 

dren, tind he knoweth that yoa mean not to fonake 
him. Rebuke your passions^ and calm your minds y 
reckum your thoughts^ and cast away the bitterness, 
of suspicious^ quarrelsome unbelief; and then you 
may perceive the presence of your dearest fiiend and 
Lord; who is enough for you^ though you had no 
other friend. Without him all the friends on earth 
would be but silly comforters, and leave you as at the 
gates of heM : without him all the angels and saints 
in heaven would never make it a heaven to you. 
Grieve not too much that one of your candles is put 
out> while you have the sun : or if indeed it be not 
day with any of you, or the sun be clouded or eclipsed, 
let that rather be the matter of your grief : find out 
the cause, and presently submit, and seek reconciliar 
tion. Or if you are deprived of this light, because 
you are yet asleep in sin, hearken to his call, and rub 
your eyes. Awake thou that steepest, and aris&'from 
the dead, and Christ shall give thee light ; £ph. v. 14. 
Knowing that it is now high time to awake out of-glespi 
our salvation being nearer than when we firstbeHeoed : 
the night is far spent, the day of eternal light iserenat 
hand : cast off therefore the works of darkness, and put 
on all the armour of light : walk honestly and decently 
a» in the day, Rom. xiii. 11 — 14. And whatever 
you do, make sure of the friend that never dieth^ and 
never shall be separated from you, and when you die, 
will xsertainly receive the souls which you cammend 

unto him. 

And here, though contrary to my custom>.I.shaU 
make some more particular meiilaon of our deceased 
fiiend, on several accounts. 1. In prosecution of 
this use that now we are upon, that youmayrsee in 
the evidences of her happiness, how little cause you 


bame io indulge exiraowlinary grief on her account^ 
and how much cause to moderate your sense of odr 
loss mth the sense of her felicity. 2. That you may 
hsre the benefit of her example for your imitation, 
espedally her choldren that are bound to observe llie 
holy-oc^oMs as weil as instructions of a mother. 3. 
For the honour of Oirist, and his grace, and his ser* 
vant. For as God hath promised to honour those 
that honour toa, {l Sam. ii. 90,) and Christ hath 
said. If any man serve me, him wUl my Father homour, 
(John xu. ^,) so I know Christ will not take it HI 
to be honoured in his members, and to have his mi|)&i>- 
ters subserve him in so eKcellent a work. It as a very 
considerable part of the love or hatred, honour or 
dishonour that Christ hath in the workl, which he 
receimth 4s be appeareth in his followers. He that 
will not see a cup of cold water given to one of them 
go unrewarded, and will tdU those at the last day 
that did or did not visit pr relieve them, ^at they 
did or did it not to him, wiU now expect it from me 
as my duty, to give him the honour of his grace in 
his deceased servant, and I doubt not will accordingly 
accept it, when it is no other indeed than his oivu 
honour that is my end, and nothing but the wosdsof 
truth and soberness shall be liie means. 

And here I shall make so great a transition as 
shall retain my account in the narrow compass of 
the time in which she lived near me and under my 
care, and in my familiar acquaintance, omitting -all 
the rest of her life, that none may say I speak but by 
hearsay of things which I am uncertain of 5 and I wiU. 
confine it also to those special gifts and graces in 
whicdi ajoA was eminent,. t^t I may not take yau Up 
with a^descriptionof a Qhrifrtian .as su^h^ imd 1^ 

MRS. Baxter's mother. 119 

jou only t)f that good which she held but in commoti 
with all other Christians. And if any thing that I 
shall say were unknown to any reader that knew her^ 
let them know that it is beoanse they knew her but 
distantly^ unperfectly, or by reports ; and that my 
advantage of. near acquaintance did give me a just 
assurance of what I say. 

The graces which I discerned to be eminent in faer^ 
were these : 1. Sh<e was eminent in her .contempt of 
the pride^ and pomp, and |4€)a9ttfe> and ^vanity of the 
world, and in her great av^rseaess from all these. I^ie 
had an honest impatiency of the 1^ which is common 
among the rich and vainrgloriousin the wwld. Vo- 
luptuousness and sensuality, excess of drinking, 
cards and dice she could. not-endure^whatefirer names 
of good housekeeping or ^seemly deportment they 
borrowed for a mask.* iQ.h^r apfiarel she .went be- 
low the garb of others of her rank; ifideed in si^ 
plainness «s did ^lot oiotify heir d^^gree, but j^et in such 
a grave$^nt habits as wUQfiA her sobriety, and 
humility. She wa3 a stranger to paslamea, and no 
companion for time-wa#terSi mkngewiag, ^ihet per- 
sons so near eternity,, t^t have so shtovt a life and so 
great a w;ork, have no tkne to ^pare. Accocdkigiy 
in her latter days, she ^Hi (^s tho9e that gisow wise 
by experience of the vanity <if the world) netine^feom 
it, and cast it off before it cast off her. She betook 
herself to the society of ft people J^at :were low. in 
the world, of humble, serious, upi%bt lives, though 
such as had be^n wholly strang^its to her : and among 
these poor inferior strai^gers ^he lived in content- 
ment and quietness ; desiring rather to converse with 
those that would help her to redeem the time, in 


prayer and edifying conference^ than with those that 
would grieve her hy consuming it on their lusts. 

!2. She was very prudent in her converse and af- 
6urs (allowing for the passion of her sex and age) 3 
and ao escaped much of the inconveniences that el3e 
in so gnat and manifold businesses would have over- 
whelmed her. As a good man will guide his affairs 
with discretion, (Psal.C3:ii.5^) so discretion will pre- 
serve him, and understanding will keep him, to de- 
liver him from the way of the evil man, who leaveth 
the paths of uprightness to walk in the way of dark- 
ness^ Prov. ii. 11-— 13. 

3. She was seriously religious, without partiality, 
or any taint of siding or faction, or holding the faith 
of our Lord Jesus Christ in respect of persons. I 
never heard her speak against men or for men, as 
they differed in some small and tolerable things. She 
impartially heard any minister that was able, and 
godiy, and sound in the main, and could bear with 
the weaknesses of ministers when they were faithful. 
Instead of owning the names or opinions of Prelat- 
ical, Presbyterian, Independent, or such like, she took 
up with the name and profession of a Christian, and 
loved a Christian as a Christian, without much res- 
pect to such different, tolerable opinions. Instead of 
troubling herself with needless scruples, and making 
up a religion of opinions and singularities, she stu- 
died faith and godliness, and lived upon the common 
certain truths, and well-known duties, which have 
been the old and beaten way, by which the universal 
church of Christ hath gone to heaven in former 

^. She was very impartial io her judgment about 

MRS. Baxter's mother. 121 

particular cas^s ; being the s^une in judging of the 
case of a child and a stranger 3 and no interest of chil- 
dren or other relations^ could make her swerve from 
an equal judgment. 

5. She very much preferred the spiritual welfare 
of her children before their temporal 3 looking on 
the former as the true felicity^ and on the latter with- 
out itj but as a pleasant, voluntary misery. 

6. Since I was acquainted with her, I always found 
her very ready to good works, according to her pow- 
er. And when she hath seen a poor man come to me, 
that she conjectured solicited me for relief, she hath 
reprehended me for keeping the case to myself, and 
not inviting her to contribute. And I could never 
discern that she thought any thing so well bestowed, 
as that which relieved the necessities of the poor that 
were honest and industrious. 

7. She had the wonderful mercy of a manlike. 
Christian, patient spirit, under all afflictions that did 
befal her, and under the multitude of troublesome 
businesses, that would have even distracted an impa- 
tient mind. Though sudden anger was the sin that 
she much confessed herself,* and therefore thought 
she wanted patience, yet I have oft wondered to see 
her bear up with the same alacrity and quietness, 
when Jo6's messengers have brought her the tidings 

^ that would have overwhelmed an impatient soul. 
When law-suits and the great afflictions of her chil- 
dren have assaulted her like successive waves, which 
I feared would have home her into the deep, if not 
devoured all her peace, she sustained all, as if no 
considerable change had been made against her, hav- 
ing the same God, aiid the same Christy and pro- 



mises^ and hope^ from which she fetched such real 
comfort and support^ as shewed a real^ serious faitih. 
8. She was always apt to put ^ good iuterpretation 
upon God^s providences 3 like a right heUcret, thai 
having the spirit of adoption, percQiveth fatherly love 
in all. She would not easily be peiesmided that God 
meant her any harm } sh^ was not apt to hearken to 
the enemy that acquseth God and his ways to maa> 
as he accuseth man and his actions to God. She was 
none of those that are suspicious of Grod, and are. 
still concluding death and ruin from, all that he dotk 
to them> and are gathering wrath from misloterpreted 
expressions of his love ; who weep because of the 
smoke^ before they can be warmed by the fire. Yet 
God is good to Israel, and it shaH go well with, thsm 
that fear before him, (Psal. Ixxiiij. 1. Eccles. viii. 13,) 
were her conclusions from the shai^pest provtd^Hses. 
She expected the morning in the darkest night > and 
judged not of the end by the l]^eginning ; but was al- 
ways confident, if she could but ^itiUe God in the 
case, that the issue would be good* She was not a 
murmurer against God, nojr one that contended with 
her Maker 5 nor oue that created caLimity to bersdf 
by a self-troubling, unquiet mind^ She patiently 
bore what Gpd laid upon her, a^d made it not hea- 
vier by the a(Mitions of uncomfortable prognostics, 
and misgiving 9^ repining thoughts. She had a 
great confidence ip God, that his was doing good to 
her and her's in all ; and wheive at preseut she saw 
any matter of grief, she ^uph supported her soul 
with a belief that QoA wQuld remove and overcome 
it in due tiine. 

9. She w:i^ not troiyE>lc4 (that ever. 1 diaeecned) 
with doubtings about her interest in Christ, and 

* MRS. Baxter's mother. 123 

about her own justification and salvation : but whe* 
tber she reached to assuraace or not« she had confi* 
dent apprehensions of the love of God^ and quietly 
reposed her soul upon his grace. Yet not secure 
through presumption or self-esteem* but comforting 
herself in the I<ord her God : By this means she spent 
those hours in a cheerful performance of her duty, 
which many spend In fruitless self-vexation for the 
failings of their duty, or in mere inquiries whether 
they have grace or not -, and others spend in wran- 
gUng* perplexed controversies, about the manner or 
circumstances of duty. And I believe that she ^d 
more comfort from God by way of reward upon her 
sincere obedience, while she referred her soul to him, 
and rested on him, than many have that more 
anxiously perplex themselves about the discerning 
of their holiness, when they should be studying to be 
more holy, that it might discover itself. And by 
this means $he was fit for praises and thanksgiving, 
and spent not her life in lamentations and complaint8> 
and made not religion seem terrible to the ignorant, 
that judge of it by the faces and carriage of profes- 
scnfs. She did not represent it to the world, as a mo- 
rose and melancholy temper, but as the rational crea- 
ture's cheerful obedience to his Maker, actuated by 
t^ sense of the wonderful love that is manifested in 
the Redeemer, and by the hopes of the purchased 
and promised felicity in the blessed sight and fm- 
ition of God. And 1 conjectured that her foremen* 
tioned dispoiution to think well of God and of his pro- 
vidences, together with her long and manifold expe- 
rience, (the great advantage of ancient, tried Chris- 
tiansy) did much conduce to ftee her from doublings 
wi disquieting fears> about her own sincerity and 


salvation. And 1 confess^ if her life had not been' 
answerable to her peace and confidence^ I should not 
have thought the better^ but the worse of her condi- ' 
tion ', nothing being more lamentable than to make 
haste to hell> through a wilful confidence that the 
danger is past^ and that they are in the viray to heaven 
as well as the most sanctified. 

10. Lastly, I esteemed it the height of her attain- 
ment, that she never discovered any inordinate fears 
of death ; but a cheerful readiness, willingness and 
desire, to be dissolved and be with Christ. This was 
her constant temper both in health and sickness, as 
far as 1 was able to observe. She would be frequently 
expressing how little reason she had to be desirous 
of longer life, and how much reason to be willing to 
depart. Divers times in dangerous sicknesses I have 
been, with her, and never discerned any considerable 
averseness, dejectedness or fear. Many a time I have 
thought how great a mercy I should esteem it, if I 
had attained that measure of fearless willingness to 
lay down this fleshy as she had attained. Many a one 
that can make light of wants, or threats, or scorns, 
or any ordinary troubles, cannot submit so quietly 
and wiUingl]^ to death. Many a one that can go 
through the labours of religion, andc^temn opposi^ 
tton, and easUy give all they have to the poor> and 
bear imprisonments, banishment or contempt, can 
never overcome the fear of death : so far even the. 
father of lies spoke truth -, Skin for skin ; yea, all 
that a man hath, will he give for his {ife -, Job ii. 4. 
I took it therefore for a high attainment^ and extra- 
ordinary mercy to our deceased friend, that the king 
of terrors was not terrible to her. Tlnough I doubt 
not but somewhat of averseness and fear is so radi<» 


cated in nature's self-preserving principle^ as that it 
is almost inseparable^ yet in her I never discerned 
any troublesome appearances of it. When I first 
came to her in the beginning of her last sickness, 
she suddenly passed the sentence of death upon her*, 
s^f, without any show of fear or trouble^ when to us 
the disease appeared not to be great : but when the 
disease increased, her pains were so little^ and the ef" 
fect of the fever was so much in her head, that after 
this she seemed not to esteem it mortal, being not 
sensible of her case and danger. And so as she lived 
without the fears of death, she seemed to us to die 
without them : God by the nature of her disease re- 
moving death as out of her sight, when she«came to 
that weakness, in which else the encounter was like 
to have been shai^)er than ever it was before. And 
thus in one of the weaker sex, God hath showed us 
that it is possible to live in holy confidence, and 
peace, and quietness of mind, without distressing 
griefs or fears, even in the midst of a troublesome 
world, and of vexatious businesses, and with the af- 
flictions of her dearest relations almost continually 
before her : and that our quiet or disquiet, our peace 
or trouble, dependeth more upon our inward strength 
and temper, than upon our outward state, occasions, 
or provocations : and that it is more in our hands, 
than of any or all our fg^nds or enemies, whether 
we shall have a comfortable or uncomfortable life. 

Her work is done : her enemies are conquered 5 
(except the remaining fruits of death upon a corrupt- 
ing body, which the resurrection must conquer.) 
Her danger, and temptations, and troubles, and fears, 
are at an end. She shall no more be discomfited 
with evil tidings 5 nor any more partake with a mili- 


tant church in the sorrows of her diseascB or 
tresses* We are left within the reach of Satan's 
assaults and malice $ and of the rage and violence 
which pride, and faction, and Cainish envy, and en* 
raity to serious holiness, do ordinarily raise against 
Christ's followers in the worid. We are left among 
the lying tongues of slanderous, malicious men $ and 
dwell in a wilderness among scorpions ; where the 
#0919 of Belial, like Nabal, are nich that a man cannot 
speak to them ; 1 Sam. xxv. 17. The best oftkemis 
a briar, the WMt upright sharper than a thorn hedge ; 
Mic. vii. 4. fBut the sons of Belial shall be aU of 
them as thorns thrust away, became they cannot be ta^ 
ken with hands, but the man that shall touch them must 
be fenced with iron, and the staff of a spear, and they 
shall be utterly burnt with fire in fhe place ; ^ Sam. 
xxiii. 6, 7.) We are left among our weak, distem- 
pered, sinful, afflicted, lamenting friends 3 the sight 
of whose calamities, and participation of their sufier- 
ings, maketh us feel the strokes that fall upon so 
great a number, that we are never like to be fne 
from pain. But she is entered into the land of peace, 
where pride and faction are shut out -, where serpen- 
tine enmity, malice and fury never come 5 where 
there is no Cain to envy and destroy us $ no Sodom- 
ites to rage against us, and in their blindness to as- 
sault our doors ; no Jhithophels to plot our ruin ^ no 
Judas to betray us } no false-witnesses to accuse us 3 
no Tertullus to paint us out as pestilent fellows and 
movers of sedition among the people $ no Rehum, 
Shimshai, or their society, to persuade the rulers that 
the servants of the God of heaven are hurtful unto 
kings, and against their interest and honour 3 (Ezra 
iv. 9. 12 — 14. 2^ J V. 11.) no rabble to cry. Away 

Mjift* baxtisb's mother. 127 

vrith them^ it is not fit that they shotildlive; no 
DetM» Ihat \nU forsake ns for the love of present 
things $ no such contentious^ censorious friends as 
/o6's to afflict us> by adding to our affliction \ no 
carsed Ham to dishonour parents; no ambitious^ 
rebellious Ahtalom to molest us^ or to lament; no 
8inful> scandalous friends to be our grief; and which 
is more than all> no earthly^ sinful inclinations in 
ourselves ; no passions or infirmities \ no languish- 
ings of 80ul> no deadness^ dulness^ hard-heartedness^ 
or weaknesses of grace> no backwardness to God^ or 
estrangedness from him> nor fiears or doubtings of 
his love> nor frowns of his displeasure ; none of these 
do enter into that serene and holy region^ nor ever 
interrupt the joy of saints. 

The great work is yet upon our hands^ to fight out 
the good fights to finish our course^ to run with pa- 
tience the remainder of the race that is before us ; 
and as we must look to Jesus^ the Author and Fin- 
isher of our feith^ as oUt great exemplar^ so must we 
look to his saints and martyrs ad bur encouraging 
examples under him. Piit the case you were now 
dying, (and O how near id it^ and how sure !) what 
would you need most if the day wgre come ? That 
is it that you need most now ; look after it speedily 
wiiile you have time ! Look after it seriously^ if you 
have the hearts of men^ and sin have not turned you 
into idiots or blocks. What a disgrace is it to man- 
kind^ to hear men commonly at death cry out, ' O for 
a little more time, and O for the opportunities of 
grace again ! and O how shall I enter upon eternity 
thus unprepared!' to if they had never heard or 
known tiiat they must die till now ! Had you not a 
life's time to put these questions, and should you not 


long ago have got them satisfactonly resolved ? 
And justly doth Grod give over some to that greater 
shame of human nature, as not to be called to their 
wits, even by the approach of death itself, but as 
they contemned everlasting life in their healthy God 
justly leaveth them to be so sottish, as to ventuVe 
presumptuously with unrenewed souls upon deaths 
and the conceit that they are of the right church, or 
party, or opinion, or that the priest hath absolved 
them, doth pass with them for the necessary prepara- 
tion ; and well were it for them if these would pass 
them currently into heaven. But O what heart can 
now conceive, how terribje it is for a new departed 
soul to find itself remedilessly disappointed, and to be 
shut up in flames and desperation, before they would 
believe that they were in danger of it ! 

Reader, I beseech thee, as ever thou believest that 
thou must shortly die, retire from the crowd and 
noise of worldly vanity and vexation. O bethink 
thee how little a while thou must be here, and have 
use for honour^ and favour, and wealth -, and *what 
it is for a soul to pass into heaven or hell^ and to 
dwell among angels or devils for ever 3 and how mien 
should live, and watch, and pray, that are near to 
such a change as this. Should I care what men call 
me (by tongue or pen), should I care whether I live 
at liberty or in prison, when I am ready to die, and 
have matters of infinite moment before me, to take 
me up ? Honour, or dishonour, liberty or pri^od,. 
are words of no sound or signification scarce to be 
heard or taken notice of, to one of us that are just 
passing to God and to everlasting life. The Lord 
have mercy upon the distracted world ! How 
strangely doth the devil befool them in the daylight* 


-t£nd make Diem needlessly trouble themselves about 
tnany things, when one thing is needful ! And hea^ 
ven is talked of (and that but heartlessly and seldom) 
while fleshly provision only is the prize,' the pleasure, 
the business of their lives ! Some are diverted from 
their serious preparation for death, by the beastly 
avocations of lust anil gaudiness, and meats, and 
drinks, and childish sports; and some by the busi- 
nesses of ambition and covetousness, contriving how 
to feather their nests, and exercise their wills over 
others in the world ; and some that will seem to be 
doing the work, are diverted as dangerously us others, 
by contending about formalities and ceremonies, and 
destroying charity and peace, rending the church, 
and strengthening factions, and carrying on interests 
hypocritically under the name of religion, till the 
zeal that St. James describeth, (James iii. 13, 14, 
&c.) having consumed all that was like to the zeal 
of love and holiness in themselves, proceed to con- 
sume the servants and interest of Christ about them, 
and to bite and devour, till their Lord come and find 
them in a day that they looked not for him, smiting < 
their feUow-servants, and eating and drinking with 
the drunken, and cut them asunder, and appoint 
them their portion with the hypocrites, where shall . 
be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Matt. xxiv. 


O study, and preach, and hear, and pray, and live, 
and use your brethren that diflfer from you in some 
opinions^ as you would do if you were going tQ re- 
ceive your doom, and as will then be most acceptable 
to your Lord ! The guilt of sensuality, woridlines^, 
iimbition, of unchaiitableness, cruelty and iiigustice^ 



of losing time, and betrayii^ your souls by negli- 
gence, or perfidiousness and wilful sin^ will lie hea- 
vier upon a departing soul, than now in the drunken- 
ness of prosperity you can think. Christ win never 
receive such souls in their extremity, unless upon re- 
pentance by fiaith in his blood, they are washed from 
this pollution. It is unspeakably terrible to die, 
without a confidence that Christ will receive us , and 
little knows the graceless world what sincerity and 
simplicity in holiness is necessary to the soundness 
of such a confidence. 

Let those that know not that they must die, or 
know of no life hereafter, hold on thdr chace of a 
feather, till they find what they lost their lives, and 
souls, and labour for : but if thou be a Christian, re- 
member what is thy work ! Thou wilt not need the 
favour of man, nor worldly wealth to prevail with 
Christ to receive thy spirit. O learn thy last work, 
before thou art put upon the doing of it. The world 
of spirits to which we are passing, doth better know 
than this world of fleshly darkened sinners, the great 
difference between the death of a heavenly believer, 
and of an earthly sensualist. Bdieve it, it is a thing 
possible to get that apprehension of the love of 
Christ, that confidence of his receiving us, and such 
familiar, pleasant thoughts of our entertainment by 
.him, as shall much overcome the fears of deaUi, and 
make it a welcome day to us when we shall be ad- 
mitted into the celestial society. And the difierence 
between one man*s death and another's, dependeth 
on the difierence between heart and heart, life and 
life, preparation and unpreparedness. 

If you ask me. How may so hi^py a preparation 


be made ? I have told yoti ttiot^ fUlly elsewhere for- 
merly. I shall add now these few Directions fol- 
lowing. • 

I. Fallow ih^JiatteHng world no further ; come oflP 
&(Mn all expectation of felicity below : en/dy nothing 
under the sun ; but only use it in order to ydnr enjoy- 
ment of the real sure ddight. Take heed of being 
too much ptetued in the creature. Hare you houses^ 
and lands^ and offices^ and honours^ and friends that 
are very pleasing to you ? Take h^d ; for that id 
^bB killing snare ! Shut your eyes^ and wink them 
all into nothing 3 and cast by your contrivances^ and 
cares^ and fiears^ and remember you have another 
woiic to do. 

3. Live in communion with a suffering Christ 5 
study well the whole life and nature of his sufferings 3 
and the reason of them 3 and think how desirable it is 
to be conformed to him. Thus look to Jesus^ that 
for the joy that was set before him> despised the 
sfaaine, and endured the cross, and the contradiction 
of sinners against himself. Dwdl upon this exam- 
ple, that the image of a humbled, su£fering Christ 
being deeply imprinted on thy mind, may draw thy 
heart into a juster relish of a mottified state. Sure 
he is no good Christian that thinks it not better to live 
as Christ did, in holy poverty and sufferings in the 
world, than as Crassus or Qesarg or any such world- 
ling and self-pleaser lived. Die daily, by following 
Jesus with your cross, and when you have awhile 
suffered with him, he will make you perfect, and re- 
ceifve your spirits, and you shall reign with him. It 
wonderfolly prepareth for a comfortable death, to 
live in the fellowship of the sufferings of Christ : be 


is most likely to die quietly^ patiently iind joyfdlly, 
that can first be poor^ be neglected^ be scorAed, be 
wrongfsd^ be slandered^ be imprisoned^ quietly^ pa- 
tiently, and joyfully. If you were but at Jerusalem, 
you would with some love and pleasure go up Mount 
Olivet, and think, Christ went this very way ; ^ you 
would love to see the plac6 where he was bom, the 
way which he went when he carried his cross, the holy 
grave where he was buried, (where there is a temple 
which pilgrims use to visit, from whence they vise to 
bring the mark as a pleasing badge of honour) ) but 
how much more of Christ is there in our su£Rerlng 
for his cause and truth ; and in following him in a 
mortified, self-denying life, than in following him in 
the path that he hath trodden upon earth? His 
enemies saw his cross, his grakre, his mother, his per- 
son ; this did not heal their sinful souls and make 
them happy. But the cross that he calleth us to 
bear^ is a life of suffering for righteousness sake, in 
which he commandeth us to rejoice and be exceeding 
gladi because our reward is great in heaven, though- all 
manner of evil be spoken of us falsely by men on earth; 
Matt. V. 11, 1^. This is called a being partakers of 
Christ^s sufferings, in which we are commanded to re- 
joice; thai when this glory shall be revealed, we may 
be glad with exceeding joy ; 1 Pet. iv. 13. And as the 
sufferings of Christ abound towards us, so will our con- 
solation abound by Christ ; 1 Cor. i. 5. Till we come 
up to a life of willing mortification, and pleased con- 
tented suffering with Christ, we are in the lowfer form 
of his school, and as children, shall tremble at that 
which should not cause our terror, and through mis- 
apprehensions of the case of a departing soul, shall 

MRS. Baxter's mother. 133 

he afraid of that which should be our joy. I am not 
such anenemy to • the esteem of relics^ but if one 
could shew me the very itocks that Paul and Silas sat 
in when they sung psalms in their imprisonBdent^ 
(Acts xvi^) I could be contented to be put (for the 
like cause) into the same stocks, with a special wil- 
lingness and pleasure : how much more should we 
be willing to be conformed to our suffering Lord, in 
a spirit and life of true mortification ! 

3. Hold communion also with his suffering members. 
Desire not to dwell in the tents of wickedness, nor to 
be planted among them that Nourish for a time, that 
they may be destroyed/or ever ; Psal. xcii. 6, 7. 1 had 
rather have Bradford* s heart and faggot, than Bonner* s 
bishopric. It was holy Stephen, and not those that 
stoned him, that saw heaven opened, and the Son of 
Man sitting at the right hand of God, (Acts vil. 56,) 
and that could joyfully say. Lord Jesus, receive my spi' 
rit. He liveth not by faith (though he may be a 
hanger-on that keepeth up some profession for fear 
of being damned,) who chooseth not rather to suffer 
affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy theplea- 
sures of sin for a season, and esteemeth not the very 
reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of 
the world, as having respect to the recompence of re^ 
ward', Heb. xi. 25, 26. 

4. Live as if heaven were open to your sight ; and 
then doat upon ^he delights of worldlings if you can -, 
then love a life of fleshly ease and honour better than 
to be with Christ, if you can. But of this I have 
spoken at large in other writings. 

Christian ! make it the study and business of thy 
life, to learn to do thy last work well 5 that work 

134 SOMS ACCOUNT, &c. 

which must be done but once $ tl^t so death which 
transmits unholy souls into utter darkness and des- 
pair, may deliver thy S{^rit into thy Redeemer's 
hands to be received to his gi6ry« according to that 
blessed promise^- John xii. 526; If any mem serve me, 
let him follow me : and where I am, there shall also 
my sertant he : if any man serve me, him will my Fa^ 
ther honour. 









Because it is soul'-^xperiments which those that 
urge me to this kind of writing, do expect that 1 
should especially communicate to others, and I have 
said little of God's dealing with my soul since the 
time of my younger years, 1 shall only give the reader 
so much satisfaction, as to acquaint him truly what 
change God hath made upon my mind and heart 
since those unriper times, and wherein I now diflfer iit 
judgmentand disposition from my [former] sdf: And 
for any more particular account of heart-occtifrences, 
and God's operations on me, 1 think it somewhat 
unsavory to recite them -, seeing God*s dealings are 
much the same with all his servants in the main, 
and the points wherein he varieth are usually so 
small, that I think such not fit to be repeated : Nor 
have I any thing extraordinary to glory in, which is 
not common to the rest of my brethrefl, who have the 
same Spirit, and are servants' of the same Lord. 
And the true reason why I do adventurfe so ^r upon 
the censure of the world, as to tell them whereiii the 
case is altered with me, id that I may take off yoang 


inexperienced Christians ft^m being over-confident 
in their [first apprehensions^ or' overvaluing their 
first degrees of grace^ or too much applauding and 
following unfurnished, inexperienced men f but may 
somewhat be directed what mind and course of life 
to prefer^ by the judgment of one that (lath tried 
both before them. 

1 The temper of my mind hath somewhat altered 
with the temper of my body. When I was young, I 
was more vigorous, affeciionnte, and fervent in preach- 
ing, conference and prayer, than (ordinarily) I can be 
now 5 my style was more extempore and lax, but by 
the advantage of affection, and a very familiar, mov- 
ing voice ai^d utterance, my preaching then did more 
afifect the auditory, than many of the last years be- 
fore I gave oVer preaching) but yet what I delivered 
was much more raw, and had more passages that 
would not bear the trial of accurate judgments 5 and 
my discourses had both less substance and less judg- 
ment than of late. 

2. My understanding was then quicker, and could 
more easily manage any thing that was newly pre- 
sented to it upon a sudden 3 but it is since better fur- 
nished, and acquainted with the ways of truth and 
error, and with a multitude of particular mistakes of 
the world, which then I was the more in danger of, 
because I had only the faculty of knowing them, but 
did not actually know them. I was then like a man 
of a quick understanding that -was to travel a way 
which he never went before, or to cast up an account 
which he never laboured in before, or to play on an 
instrument of music which he never saw before 3 and 
I am now like one of somewhat a slower understand- 
ing (by that prtematura senectus which weakness and 


excessive bleedings brought me to) who is travelling 
a way which he hath often gone^ and is casting up 
an account which he hath often cast up, and hath 
ready at hand, and that is playing on an instrument 
which he hath often played on 3 so that I can very 
confidently say, that my judgment is much sounder 
and firmer now than it was then 5 "for though I am 
now as competent a judge of the actings of my own 
understanding then, yet I can judge of the effects : 
and when I peruse the writings which I wrote in my 
younger years, I can find the footsteps of my unfur- 
nished mind, and of my emptiness and insufficiency : 
so that the man that followed nfiy judgment then, 
was liker to have been misled by me, than he that 
should follow it now. 

And yet, that I may not say worse than it deserveth 
of my former measure of understanding, I shall truly 
tell you what change I find now, in tho^perusal of my 
own writings. Those points which then I thoroughly 
studied, my judgment is the same of now as it was 
then ; and therefore in the substance of my religion, 
and in those controversies which I then searched in- 
to, with some extraordinary diligence, 1 find not my 
mind disposed to a change : But in divers points that 
I studied slightly and by the halves, and in many 
things which I took upon trust from others, I have 
found since that my apprehensions were either erro- 
neous or very* lame. And those things which I was 
orthodox in, I had either insufficient reasons for, or 
a mixture of some sound and some insufficient ones, 
or else an insufficient apprehension of those reasons ; 
so that I scarcely knew what I'seemed to know. And 
though in my writings 1 found little in substance 
which my present judgment differeth A'om, yet in my 


uif^rums and Saints* Rat (wluch were my first wri- 
tings) I find some raw, unmeet expressions ; and one 
common infirmity I percetve, that I put off matters 
with some kind of confidence, as if I had done some- 
thing new or more than ordinary in them, when up- 
on my more mature reviews, I find that I said not 
half that which the suhject did require ; as ^. ^. in 
the doctrine of the Covenants, and of Justification, 
but espedaUy about the divine authority of the Scrip- 
ture in the second part of the Saints* Rest ; where I 
have not said half that should have been said 3 and 
the reason was, because that I had not read any of 
the fuller sort of books that are written on those 
subjects, nor conversed with those that knew more 
than myself, and so all those things were either new 
or great to me, which were common and small per- 
haps to others ; and because they all came in by the 
way of my own study of the naked matter, and not 
from books, they were apt to affect my mind the 
more, and to seem greater than they were. And this 
token of my weakness accompanied those my younger 
studies, that I was very apt to start up controversies 
in the way of my practical writings, and also more 
desirous to acquaint the world with all that I took to 
be the truth, and to assault those books by name 
which I thought did tend to deceive them, and did 
contain unsound and dangerous doctrine. And the 
reason of all this was, that I was then in the vigour 
of my youthful apprehensions, and the new appear- 
ance of any sacred truth, it was more apt to afi^ct 
me, and to be more highly valued, than afterward, 
when commonness had dulled my deUght -, and I did 
not sufficiently discern then how much in most of our 
cpntroversies is verbal, and upon mutual mistakes. 


And withal I knew not how impatient diTines were 
^ of being contradicted, nor how it would stir up idl 
their powers to defend what they have once said, and 
to rise up against the truth which is thus thrust upon 
tiiein> as the mortal enemy of their honour: and I 
knew not how hardly men*s minds are changed from 
their former apprehensions be the evidence never so 
plain. And I have perceived, that nothing so much 
hindereth the reception of the truth, as urging it on 
m&a vnth too harsh importunity, and falling too hea* 
vily on their errors: for hereby you engage their 
honour in the business, and they defend their errors 
as themselves, and stir up all their wit and ability to 
oppose you. In controversies it is fierce opposition 
which is the bellows to kindle a resisting zeal ; when 
if they be neglected, and their opinions lie awhile 
despised, they usually cool and come again to them- 
selves 3 (though I know that this holdeth not when 
the greediness and increase of his followers, doth 
animate a sectary, even though he have no opposi- 
tion.) Men are so loath to be drenched with the 
truth, that I am no more forgoing that way to work; 
and to confess the truth, I am lately much prone to 
the contrary extreme, to be too indifferent what men 
hold, and to keep my judgment to myself, and never 
to mention any thing wherein I differ from another^ 
or anything which I think I know more than he ; or 
at least, if he receive it not presently to silence it, 
and leave him to his own opinion : and I find this ef- 
fect is mixed according to its causes, which are some 
good, and some bad. The bad caused a^e, 1* An im^ 
patience of men's weakness and mistaking froward- 
ness and self-conceitedness. % An abatement of 
my senMle esteem of truth, through the long abode 


of them on my mind: though 'my judgment value 
them, yet it is hard to be equally affected with old 
and common things, as with neio.and rare ones. 
The better causes are, 1. That I am much more sen- , 
sible than ever of the necessity of living upon the 
principles of religion, which we are all agreed in, arid 
uniting these : and how much mischief men ' that 
overvalue their own opinions have done by their con- 
troversies in the church j how some have destroyed 
charity, and some caused schisms by them, and most 
have hindered godliness in themselves and others, 
and used them to divert men from the serious prose- 
cuting of a holy life ; and as Sir Francis Bacon saith, 
in his Essay of Peace, that it is one great benefit of 
church-peace and concord, that writing controversies 
ift turned into books of practical devotion for increase 
of piety and virtue. 2. And I find that it is much 
more for most men's good and edification, to converse 
with them only in that way of godliness which all are 
agreed in, and not by touching upon differences to 
stir up their corruptions 5 and to tell them of little 
more of your knowledge, than what you find them 
willing to receive from you as mere learners ; and 
therefore to stay till they crave information of you, 
(as Musculus did with the Anabaptists, when he vi- 
sited them m prison, and conversed kindly and 
lovingly with' them, and shewed them all tjie love he 
could, and never talked to them of their opinionfs, 
till at last they who were wont to cjdl him a deceiver, 
and false prophet, did entreat him to instruct them> 
and received his instructions.) We mistake men*s 
diseases when we think there needeth nothing to 
cure their errors, but only to bring them the evidence 
of truth : alas ! there are many distempers of mind 


to be removed^ before men are apt to receive that evi- 
dence. And therefore that church is happy where 
order is kept up, and the abilities of the ministers 
command a reverend submission from the hearers 3 
and where all|ure in Christ's school in the distinct 
ranks of teachers and learners : for in a learning way 
me^ are ready to receive the truths but in a disputing 
way they come armed against it with prejudice and 

3. And 1 must say fartlier, that what I last men- 
tioned on the by, is one of the most notable changes 
of my mind In my youth I was quickly past my 
fundamentals, and was running up into a multitude 
of controversies, and greatly delighted with metaphy- 
sical and scholastic writings, (though I must needs 
say, my preaching was still on t^e necessary points) j 
but the older I grew the smaller stress I laid upon 
these controversies and curiosities, (though still my 
intellect abhorreth confusion,) as finding far greater 
uncertainties in them, than I at first discerned, and 
finding less usefulness comparatively, even where there 
is the greatest certainty. And now it is the funda- 
mental doctrines of the Catechism, which I most 
highly value, and daily think of, and find most use- 
ful to myself and others. The Creed, the Lord's- 
prayer, and the Ten Commandments, do find me 
now the most acceptable and plentiful matter for all 
my meditations ; they are to me as my daily bread 
and drink : and as 1 can speak and write of them 
over and over again, so I had rather read or heiur of 
them, than of any of the school niceties, whieh once 
so much pleased me. And thus I observed it was 
with old Bishop Ush&r, and with many other men j 


and I conjecture that this effect also is mixed of good 
and dad, according to its causes. 

The bad cause may perhaps be some natural infir- 
mity or decay : and as trees in the spring shoot up 
into branches, leaves and blossoms, but in the autumn 
the life draws down into the root, so possibly, my na* 
ture, conscious of its infirmity and decay, may find it- 
self insuflScient for numerous particles, and assur- 
gency to the attempting of difficult things j and so 
my mind may retire to the root of Christian princi- 
ples ', and also I have been often afraid, lest ill-root- 
ing at first, and many temptations afterwards, have 
made it more necessary for me than many others to 
retire to the root, and secure my fundamentals. But 
upon much observation I am a&aid lest most others 
are in no better a case 5 and that at the first they 
take it for a granted thing, that Christ is the Saviour 
of the world, and that the soul is immortal, and that 
there is a heaven and a hell, &c., while they are stu- 
dying abundance of scholastic superstructures, and at 
last will find cause to study more soundly their r€^- 
gion itself, as well as I have done. 

The better causes are these : 1. I value all things 
according to their use andencb ; and I find in the 
daily practice and experience of my soul, that the 
knowledge of God, and Christ, and the Holy S{Hrit, 
and the truth of Scripture, and the life to come, and 
of a holy life, is of more use to me, than all the most 
curious speculations. 3. I know that every man 
must grow (as tree& do) downwards and upwards 
both at once 3 and that the roots increase as the bulk 
apd branches do. 3. Being nearer death and an- 
other woild, I am the more regardful of those things 


wUch my everlasting life or death depend on. 4. 
Having most to do with ignorant^ njiserable people^ 
I am commanded by my charity and reason^ to treat 
with themi of that which their salvation lieth on 3 and 
not to dispute with them of formalities and niceties^ 
when the q[i2estion is presently to be determined whe- 
ther they shall dwell for ever in heaven or in hell. 
In a word^ my mediiaiions must be most upon the 
matters of my practice and my interest : and as the 
love of God> and the seeking of everlasting life is the 
matter of my practice and my interest, so must it be 
of my meditation. That is the best doctrine and stu-* 
dy which maketh men better, and tendeth to make 
them happy. I abhor the foUy of those unlearned 
persons^ who revile or despise learning because they 
know not what it is : and I take not any piece of 
true learning to be useless : and yet my soul appro* 
veth of the resolution of holy Paul, who determined 
to koow nothing among his hearers, (that is^ com* 
paratively to value and make ostentation of no other 
wisdom) but (the knowledge of) a crucified Christ 5 
to know God. in Christ is Ufe .eteraaL As the stock 
of the tree affi)rdeth timber to build houses^ and ci- 
ilea, when the small though higher multifarious 
branches are but to make a crow*s nest or a blaze, 
so the knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ, of hea- 
ven and holiness^ doth build up the soul to endless 
blessedness, and affordeth it solid peace and comlbrt, 
when a multitude of school niceties searye but for vain 
janglings, and hurtful diversions and contentions. 
And yet I would not dissuade my reader from the 
perusal of Jquinas, Scotus, Ockham, Jrminiensis, Dv* 
randus, or any such writer^ for mudi good mayb^ 
gotten from them : but I would persQNwdekil»i||^9ttt- 


dy and live upon the essential doctrines of Christian- 
ity and godliness^ incomparably above them all. And 
that he may know that my testimony is somewhat 
regardable^ I presume to say^ that in this I as much 
gainsay my natural inclination *to subtlety and accu- 
rateness in kno>tin^> as he is like to do by his^ if he 
obey my counsel. And I think if he lived among in- 
fidels and enemies of Christ, he would find that to 
make good the doctrine of faith and of life eternal, 
werci not oo\j his noblest and most useful study, but 
also that which would require the height of all his 
parts, and the utmost of his diligence, to manage it 
skilfully to the satisfaction of himself and others. 

4. I add therefore that this is another thing which 
I am changed in ; that whereas in my younger days 
I never was tempted to doubt of the truth of Scrip- 
ture or Christianity, but^all my doubts and fears 
were exercised at home, about my own sincerity and 
interest in Christ, and this was it which I called un- 
belief; since then my sorest assaults have been on the 
other side, and such they were, that had I been void 
of internal experience, and the adhesion of love, and 
the special help of God, and had not discerned more 
reason for my reli^on than I did when T was younger, 
I had certainly apostatized to infidelity, (though for 
atkei$m or ungodliness, my reason seeth no stronger 
arguments, than may be brought to prove that there 
is no earth, or air, or sun.) I am now therefore 
much more apprehensive than heretofore of the ne- 
cessity of well grounding men in their religion, and 
especially of the witness of the indwelling Spirit 5 for 
I more sensibly perceive that the Spirit is the great 
witaess of Christ and Christianity to the world : and 
though the folly ci fiematics tempted me long to over- 


look the strength of this testimony of the Spirit, 
while they placed it in a certain internal assertion, or 
enthusiastic inspiration ; yet now I see that the Holy 
Ghost in another manner is the witness of Christ and 
his agent in the world. The Spirit in the prophets 
was his first witness 3 and the Spirit by miracles was 
the second 3 and the Spirit by renovation^ sanctifica* 
tion, iUumination and consolation, assimilating the 
soul to Christ and heaven is the continued witness to 
all true believers 3 and if any man have not the Spi- 
rit of Christ, the same is none of his 5 Rom: yiii. 9, 
Even as the rational soul in the child is the inherent 
witness or evidence, that he is the child of rational 
parents. And therefore ungodly persoi^ have a great 
disadvantage in their resisting temptations to unbe- 
lief, and it is no wonder if Christ be a shtmhUng-block 
to the^Jews, and to the Gentiles foolishness. There 
is many a one that hideth his temptations to infideli- 
ty, because he thinketh it a shame to open them, 
and because it may generate doubts in others 5 but I 
doubt the imperfection of most men's care of their 
salvation, and of their diligence and resolution in a 
holy life, doth come tom the imperfection of their 
belief of Christianity and the life to come. For ray 
part I must profess, that when my belief of things 
eternal and of the Scripture is most clear and finn^ 
all goeth accordingly in my soul, and all temptations 
to sinful compliances, worldliness or flesh-pleasing, 
do signify worse to me, than an invitation to the 
stocks or bedlam ! and no petition seemeth more ne- 
cessary to me, than. Lord, increase our faith ,• 1 6e- 
lieve, help thou my unbelief. 

5. Among truths certain in themselves,- all are not 
equally certain unto me 3 and even of the mysteries 
of the Gospel, I must needs say with Mr. Richard 

146 ATBZKmX, 

JEbok^r (ISceles. Polity that whaterer men may pre- 
teiid> the aulocctiTe oertainty cannot go beyond the 
ol]9«ctive evidence ; for it is caused tbereby aa tbe 
printontke waxificanaedbythatontbeaeal: there* 
fbne I do more of late than ever discern a neceonty of 
a methodical procedure in maintaining the doctrine 
of Christianity^ and of beginning at natural TeritieB> 
as presupposed fundamentally to supemat\ural> 
(though God may when he please revieal aU at once> 
and even natural tniths by supernatural revelaticoi) : 
and it is a marvellous great help to my faiths to find 
it built on so sure foundations^ and so consonant to 
the law of nature. I am not so foolish as to pretend 
my certainty to be greater than it is, merely because it 
is a dishonour to be lesa certain > nor wiH 1 by shame 
be kept firom confessing these infirmities, which 
those have aa much as I* who Itypocritka^y reproaefa 
me with them. My certainty that I am a man> is 
before my certainty that there is a God> for fu«d/acti 
iioium est magit notum: my certainty that there is. a 
God, is greater than my certainty that he requivtih 
love and holiness of his creature : my certainly of 
this is greater than my eertaint}* of the life of reward 
and punishment hereafter : my cgi;ainty of that ia 
greater than my certainty of the endless dnratbn of 
it^ and of the immortality of individuate scaiIs : my 
certainty of the Deity is greater than my certainty of 
the Christian faith : my certainty of the Christian 
laith in its essentisds, is greater than my certainty of 
the perfection and infallibility of all the Holy Serip- 
tures : my certainty of that is greater than my cer-> 
tainty of the meaning of p;iany particular texts, and 
so of tbe truth c^ many particular doctrines, and of 
the canoxiicalneas of some certain books* So that as 
you see by what gra^tions my understanding doth 

APPBNPiX. 147 

proceed^ 8o alao that my c«rtakity differeth as the 
evidences differ. And tbey that have attained to 
greater peifectJOQ* and a higher degxeeofi certainty 
than I^ should pity tne. and psoduce their evidence to 
help me, And tbey that. wUl begin all their certain** 
ty with that of the truth of the Soriptufe^ as thepriff- 
ci|Mi^9n €<igm>ioendip niay meet me at the same end ^ 
but they must give me leave to undertake to prove to 
a heat]]^ or ii^el^.the being of a GQd> and. the ne* 
c^ity of hoHnesB^ and tlM& certainty of a reward or 
punishment^ even while he yet denieth.the troth of 
Scripture, and in oider to his believing it to be true. 

6. Jn my younger years> my tioable for sin was 
mo$t about my actual failings in thought, word or 
aetien, (except hardness of heart, of which more 
MPK»n)* But now 1 am nouch more troubled for in* 
ward defects, and omission or want of the vital duties 
or graces inthesoul^ My dally trouble ia so maidi 
for my ignoranceof God; and weakness of belief, and 
w^nt of greater love tp God, and strangeness to himi 
and to the Ufe to ■ come, aotd for want of a greater 
willingness to die, and longing to-be with God in 
heaven, as that I take not gmne immoralitidii, thmigfa 
v<»7 great, to be in themselves so. great, and^odioas 
sins, if they could be found aa separate, from these. 
Had I ail the richeaof the world, how gladly should 
I give them, for a fuUer knowledi^, bdief, and love 
of God and everlasting ^ry ! These wants are the 
greatest burden of my li&, which oft maketh my life 
itself a burden. And I cannot &id any hope of reach* 
ing so high in these, whiles I am in the flesh, as I 
once hoped before this time to have attained ; whidt 
maketh me the wearier of tlua sinful world, which is 
honoured with so little of the knowledge of God. 

7. Heretofore I placed nndt of my religion in ten-< 

148 AI»P&NDIX. 

demess of hearty and grieTing for sin^ and penifeiKtia] 
tears 5 and less of it in the love of God, and studying 
his love and goodness, and in his joyful praises, than 
now I*d6. Then I was little sensible of the great- 
ness and excellency of loTe and. praise; though I 
coldly spake the same words in its commendaiiocs, 
as now I do ; and now I am less troubled for want 
of grief and tears, (though I more value humility, 
and refuse not needful humiliation) : but my con- 
science now looketh at love and delight in God, and 
praising him, as the top of all my rehgibus duties^ 
for which it is that I value and use the rest. 

8. My Judgment is much more for frequent and 
serious meditation on the heavenly blessedness, than 
it was heretofore in my younger days. I then 
thought that a sermon ofiM^ attributes of €rod, and 
the joys of heaven were not tl|^ most eTccellent ; and 
was wont to say, ^ Every body knoweth this, that 
God is great, and good, and that heaven is a blessed 
place ) I had rather hear how I may attain it/ And 
nothing pleased me so well as the doctrine of Regen- 
eration, and the marks of sincerity 5 which was be* 
cause it was suitable to me in that state : but now I 
had rather read, hear or meditate on God and heaTen, 
than on any other subject : for I pereetve that it is 
the object that altereth and elevateth the mind, which 
wiU be such as that is, which it most frequently feed- 
eth on : and that it is not only useful to our eomfoct, 
to be much in heaven in our believing thoughts, but 
that it must animate all our other duties, and fortify 
us against every temptation and sin 3 and that the 
love of the end is it that is the poise or spring, which 
setteth every wheel a-going, and must put us on to 
all the means : and that a man is no more a ChristiaQ 
Hideed than he is heavenly. 


^. I. was once wont to meditate most on my own 
hearty and to dwell aU at home^ and look little higher 5 
I was still poring either on my sins or wants> or ex- 
amining my sincerity ; bat now though I am greatly 
convinced of the need of heart-acquaintance and em- 
ployment^ yet I see moiH need of a higher work ; and 
that I should look oftener upon Christ, and God^ and 
heaven, than upon my own heart. At home I can 
find distempers to trouble me, and some evidences of 
my peace ; but it is above that I must find matter of 
ddight and joy, and love, and peace itself. There* 
fore I would have one thought at home upon myself 
and sins, and many thoughts above, upon the high 
and amiable and beatifying objects, 

10. Heretofore J knew much less than now, and 
yet was not half so much acquainted with my igno- 
rance : I had a grea^ delight in the daily new disco- 
veries which I made, and of the light which shined 
in upon me, (like a man that cometh into a country 
where he never was before) : but I little knew either 
how imperfectly I understood those very points, 
whose discovery so much delighted me, nor how 
much might be said against them ^ nor how many 
things I was yet a stranger to : but now I find for 
greater darkness upon aU things, and perceive how 
very little it is that we know in comparison of that 
which we are ignorant of, and have far meaner 
thoughts of my own understanding, though I must 
needs know that it is better furnished than it was then. 
II. Accoidingly I had then a far higher opinion of 
learned persons and books, than I have now 5 for 
what I wanted myself, I thought every reverend di- 
vine had attained, and was familiarly acquainted 
with : and what books I understood not by reason of 
the strangeness of the tenns or matter, I the more 


admired and thought thatt others understood their 
wordi. But now cstperience hath consftrained me 
against myTrill to know, thsrt reverend learned men 
wee imperfect, and know but little as well as 1 3 es- 
pecially those that think themselves the wisest : and 
the better I am acquainted v^th them, the more I per* 
ceivethat we are all yet in the dark : and the more I 
am acquainted with hcfly men, that are afll for heaven, 
and pretend not mucii toisubtleties, the more I value 
and honour tibem. And When T have studied h^d to 
undeictandsome abstruse admfired book, as De Scien- 
tia Dei, De Ptotndentia circA malum, de Decr^is, de 
PredeierminaUone, de Libertaie CreatuttB, 8(c. I have 
but attained the knerwJedge of human imperffecHon, 
and to see that Hie author is "but a man tcs ^ivell as I. 
'1^. And at first I took more upon my author's 
credit, than now 1 catn do : and when an author was 
highly commended to me by others, or pleased me in 
some part, I was ready to entertain the whole; 
whereas now I take and leave in the same author, 
<and dissent in some tirings from him that I Bke best, 
as well as from others. 

IS. At finjt I was greatty mcKned to go with the 
higkeH in controveri^ies, on one sidie or other 3 as with 
Dr, Twkse, and Mr, Itw^erford, and Spanhemius ck 
Providentia et Gratkt, 8^c. But now I can so easily 
see what to say j^inst both extremes, that I am 
much more inclinable to reconciling principles. And 
whereas then I thought that conciliators were but ig- 
norant men, that were willing to please aH, and would 
pretend to reconcile the world by principles which 
they did not understand themselves; I have since 
perceived that if the amiableness of peace and con- 
cord had no hand in the business, yet greater light 
^and stronger judgment usually is widi the reconcilers. 


than with either of the contending parttea^ (as with 
Davenant, Hall^ Usher, Lud, Croeius, BergiUs, Strau' 
gius, Camero, ifcj But on both accounts their wri- 
tings are most acceptable^ thougb I know that mo- 
deration may be a pretext d£ errors. 

14. At first the style of authors took as iHuch with 
me as the argument, and made the aigumenHis seem 
more ft^vcible : bat now I judge not of irtith at all by 
afny such oni«nente or accidents^ but by its nfiked 

16. I now see more good aind inoife eeU in aQ men 
llian heretofore I did : I See thlat good men are not so 
goodf as I onc^ thought they were> but hare mdre 
imperfections 5 and that nearer approach ahd fiiller 
trials doth make the best appear more weak ahd faul- 
ty, than their admirers at a distance thank. And I 
find that few are so bad^ as either their malicious 
enemies^ or censorious, separating professors do ima^ 
gine. In some indeed I find that humto nature is 
corrupted into a greater likeness to devils, than I 
once thought any on earth hdd beein. But even in 
the wicked usuaiy there is more for ^gr^ce to make 
advantage of, and more to testify'for God and holir 
ness, than I once believed there had been. 

16. I l^s admire gif1» of utterance and b^reprofes* 
non of religion than 1 once did ; and have much more 
charity for many, iidio by the want of ^fts, do make 
a more obscure profession than they; i once thought 
thftt almost aU that cotdd pray movingly and fluent- 
ly, and talk well of religion ha4 been saints. But' 
es:peri€»ice hath opened to me, what odious crimes 
muy consist with high profession 5 and 1 have met 
with divers obscure persons, iK>t noted for any extra- 
ordinary profession, or forwardness in religion, but 
oi^y to Uve a quiet, blameless life, whom I have after 


found to have long lived, as far as I could discern, a 
truly godly and sanctified life -, only their prayers and 
duties were by accident k^t secret from other men's 
observation. Yet he that upon this pretence would 
confound the godly and the ungodly, may as well go 
about to lay heaven and hell together. 

17. I am not so narrow in my special love as here- 
tofore : being less censorious, and talking more than 
I did for saints, it must needs follow that I love more 
as saints than I did before. 1 think it not lawful to 
put that man off with bare church-communion^ and 
such common love which I must allow the wicked, 
who professeth himself a true Christian, by such a 
profession as I cannot disprove. 

18. 1 am not so narrow in my principles of church- 
communion as once T was : I more plainly perceive 
the difference between the church as congr^ate or 
visible, and as regenerate or mystical 5 and between 
sincerity and profession 3 and that a credible profes- 
sion is proof sufficient of a man's title to church- ad^ 
/mission ; and that the profession is credible in foro 
EcclesuB, which is not disproved. I am not for nar- 
rowing the church more than Christ himself alloweth 
us, nor for robbing him of any of his flock. I am, 
more sensible how much it is the will of Christ that 
every man be the chooser or refuser of his own feli- 
city, and that it lieth most on his own hands, whe- 
ther he will have communion with the church or not, 
and that if he be an hypocrite it is himself that will 
bear the loss. 

19. Yet am I more apprehensive than ever of the 
great use and need of ecclesiastical discipline, and 
what a sin it is in the pastors of the church, to make 
no more distinction, but by bare names and sacra- 
ments, and to force all the unmeet against their own 


wi!lis> to church-communion and sacraments^ (though 
the Ignorant and erroneous may sometimes be forced 
to hear instructipn) : and what a great dishonour to 
' Christ it is^ when the church shall be as vicious as 
Pagan and Mahometan assemblies^ and shall differ 
from them only in ceremony and name. 

^0. J am much more sensible of the evil of schism^ 
•and of the separating humour^ and of gathering par- 
ties^ and making several sects in the church than I was 
heretofore. For the effects have shewed us more of 
the mischiefs. 

21. I am much more sensible how prone many 
young professors are to spiritual pride and self-con- 
ceitedness^ and unruliness and division^ and so to 
prove the grief of their teachers^ and firebrands in 
the church j and how much of a minister's work lieth 
in preventing this^ and humbling and confirming sudi 
youngs iaexperienced professors, and keeping them 
in order in their progress in religion*. 

82. Yet am I more sensible of the sin and mis* 
chief of using men cruelly in matters of religion> and 
of pretending men's good, and the order of the 
church, for acts of inhumanity or uncharitableness : 
such know not their own infirmity, nor yet the na- 
ture of pastoral government, which ought to be pa- 
ternal and by love; nor do they know the way to 
win a soul, nor to maintain the church's peace. 

23. My soul is much mote afflicted with the 
thoughts of the miserable world, and more drawn 
out in desire of their conversion than heretofore -, I 
was wont to look but little further than England in 
my prayers, as not considering the state of the rest of 
the world 3 or if I prayed for the conversion of the 
Jews, that was almost all. But now, as I better un-» 
derstand the case of the world, and the method of the 

H 2 


Lord's-prayer^ so there is nothing in the world that 
lieth so heavy upon my hearty as the thought of the 
miserahle nations of the earth. It is the most asto- 
nishing part of all God's providence to me, that he 
so far forsaketh almost all the world, and confineth 
his special favour to so few -, that so small a part of 
the world hath the profession of Christianity, in com- 
parison of Heathens, Mahometans, and other infidels ! 
And that among professed Christians there are so 
few that are saved from gross delusions, and have 
but any competent knowledge; and that among 
those there are so few that are seriously religious, and 
truly set their hearts on heaven. I cannot be afiected 
so much with the calamities of my own relations, or 
the land of my nativity, as with the case of the Hea^ 
then, Mahometan, and ignorant nations of the earth. 
No part of my prayers are so deeply serious, as that 
ft»r the conversion of the infidel and ungocfiy world, 
that Grod's name may be sanctified, and his- kingdom 
come, and his wiH be done on earth as it is in heaven : 
nor was I ever before so sensible what a plague the 
division of languages was, which hfhdereth our speak- 
ing to them for their conversion ; nor what a great 
sin tyranny is, which keepeth out the Gospel from 
most of the nations of the world. Could we but go 
among Tartarians, Turks, and Heathens, dnd speak 
their language, I should be but little troubled for the 
silencing of eighteen hundred ministers at once in 
Er^gland, nor for all the rest that were cast out here, 
and in Scotland and Ireland : there being no employ- 
ment in the world so desirable in my eyeSj as to la- 
bour for the winning of such miserable souls ^ which 
maketh me greatly honour Mr. John Elliot, the apos- 
tle of the Indians in New England, and whoever else 
have laboured in such work. 


84. Yet am I iM»ft 66 much inclined topass aperemp* 
tory sentence of damnation upon allthat never heard 
of Christ ; having some move reason than I knew of 
before, to tiiink that God's dealing with such is much 
unknown to us ; and that the ungodly here> among 
us Christians^ are in a far worse ease than ihey. 

25. My censures of the Papists do much differ firom 
what they were at first : I theti thought that their 
erroirs in the doctrines of faith were their most dan- 
gerous mistakes^ as in the points of merits justifica- 
tion by works, assurance of sidvation, the nature of 
faith, &c. But now I am assured that their mis-ex- 
pressions, and misunderstanding us, t^ith our mista- 
kings of them, and inconvenient expressing our own 
opinions, hath made the difference in these points to 
appear much greater than they are; and that in 
some. of them it is next to none at all. But the great 
and unreconcilable ^fierences lie, in their church ty- 
mnny and usurpations, and in their great corruptions 
and abasement of God's worship, together with their 
befriending of ignorance and vice. At first I thought 
that Mr, Perkins well proved that a Papist cafnnot go 
beyond a reprobate : but now I doubt not but that 
€k>d hatii many sanctified ones among them, who 
have received the true doctrine of Christianity so 
practically, that their contradictory errors pnevail not 
Ugainst them, to hinder their love of God and their 
salvaftion; bat that their errors are like a conquer^ 
able dose of poison which nature doth overcome. 
And I can never believe that a man may not be saved 
by that religion, which doth but bring him to the 
triie love of God,, and to a heavenly mind and life; 
nor that Crod will ever cast a soul into hell that truly 
loveth him. Also at first it would disgrace any doc- 
trine with me, if 'I did but hear it called Popery add 


Antichristian } but I have long learned to be more 
impartial, and to dislike men for bad doctrine, ra- 
ther than the doctrines for the men ; and to know 
that Satan can use even the names of Popery and 
Antichrist, against a truth. 

26. I am more deeply afflicted for the disagree- 
ments of Christians than I was when I was a younger 
Christian. Except the case of the Infidel world, no- 
thing is so sad and grievous to my thoughts, as the 
case of the divided churches. And therefore J am 
more deeply sensible of the sinfulness of those pre- 
lates and pastors of the churches, who are the princi- 
pal cause of these divisions. O how many millions 
of souls are kept by them in ignorance and ungodli- 
ness, and deluded by faction, as if it were true reli- 
gion. How is the conversion of infidels hindered by 
them ', and Christ and religion heinously dishonour- 
ed ! The contentions between the Greek church and 
the Roman, the Papists and the Protestants, the Lu- 
therans and the Calvinisms, have woefully hindered 
the kingdom of Christ. 

27. I have spent much of my studies about the 
terms of Christian concord, and have over and over 
considered of the several ways, which several sorts of 
reconcilers have devised. I have thought of the Pa- 
pist's way, who think there will be no union, but by 
coming over wholly to their church: and I have 
found that it is neither possible nor de3irable. I have 
thought and thought again of the way of the mode- 
rating Pe^ists, Cassander, Grotius, Baldwin^ ^c«, and 
of those that would have all reduced to th^ state of 
the times of Gregory the Rrst, before the division of 
the Greek and Latin churches, that the Pope might 
have his primacy, and govern all the church by the 
canons of the Councils, with a salvo to the rights of 


kings^ and patriarcbs> aiid prelates 5 and that the doc* 
trines and worship which then were received might 
preyaiL And for my own part, if I lived in such a 
state of the churchy I would live peaceably^ as glad of 
unity, though lamenting the corruption and tyranny -, 
but 1 am fully assured that none of these are the true, 
desirable terms of unity, nor such as are ever likely to 
procure a universal concord : and I am as sure that the 
true means and terms of concord are obvious and easy 
to an impartial mind. And that these three things 
alone would easily heal and unite all the churches. 

(1.) That all Christian princes and governors take 
all the coercive power about religion into their own 
hands, (though if prelates and their courts must be 
used as their officers in^exercising that coercive power, 
so be it) : and that they make a difference between 
the approved and the tolerated churches ; and that 
they keep the peace between these churches, and settle 
their several privileges by a law. 

(2.) That the churches be accounted tolerable, who 
profess all that is in the Creed, Lord's Prayer and 
Decalogue in particular, and generally all that they 
shall find to be revealed in the Word of God, and 
hold communion in teaching, prayer, praises, and the 
two Sacraments, not obstinately preaching any heresy 
contrary to the particular articles which they profess, 
nor seditiously disturbing the public peace : and that 
such heretical preaching, and such seditious unpeace- 
ableness, or notorious wickedness of life, do forfeit 
their toleration. 

(3.) And that those that are further orthodox in 
those particulars, which rulers think fit to itnpoee 
upon their subjects^ have their public maintenance 
and greater encouragement. Yea, and this much is 
become necessary, but upon supposition that men will 


Btill be so 8eif-eon(Deit€d and uncharitable^ as not to 
forbear tkeir unneeesBary iinpo6ition». Otlier#i8e 
tbe^ would be lound but rerj few who ai« tolerable, 
that are not also iit their measure to be apprefved^ 
maintaiiied add encoun^^. And if the primitrre 
simplicity in doctrine^ government and worship^ might 
serve turn fbr the terms of the churches' union and 
communion^ all would be well without any more ado ^ 
supposing that Where Christian magistrates are^ they 
keep the peace, and repress the offisnders, and exer- 
cise all the coerciTe goveminent : and hei^ies, who 
will subscribe tb the Christian faith, n^ust not be pu- 
nished because tbey wltl ^ribstrlbe to no more, but 
because they a;^ ptaved to preach or ptotnote heresy, 
contrary to the fyth which they profess. 

88. I am tother than ever I was from expecting 
great xiiatters of Unity^ splendor or prosperity to the 
church on earth, or that saints should dream of a 
kingdom of this world, or flatter themselvies with the 
hopes of a golden age, or reigning over th^ uh^dly, 
(till there be '' a new heaven and a^new eai^h where- 
in dwelleth righteousness"). And 6n the contrary I 
am more apprehensive that sufferings must be the 
churches* tnost ordinary lot, ahd Chridtialis indeed 
must be self-denying cross-beart?rS, even Where there 
are none but formal, nominal Christians to be the 
cross-^makers. And though ordinarily God would 
. have vicii^situdes of 'summer and winter, day and 
night, that ^le church may grow extensivdy in the 
summer of prosperity, and intensively and radically 
in the wint^ of adVersily $ yet U6ui% their night is 
longer than their day, and that dayitself hath its 
storms and tcMpesti»» For the pirogniMtics are evi- 
dent in their eatues : 1. The church Will be still im- 
perfect and sinftd, and vrill have those diseases which 


tieed this l»tter remedy. 2. Rith tnen wiU be the ru- 
lers of the world ; and rich men will be generally so 
far from true godliness^ that they must come to heaven 
as by human impoBSibilities^ as a camel through a 
needle's eye. S. The ungodly tdll ever have an en- 
mity against the inlftge of Qod, and he that in bom of 
the ftesh wiU persecute him that is born after the 
Spirit 5 and brotherhood win not keep a Cain from 
killing an Abel Who oifereth a more acceptable ^acri* 
flee than himself 5 and the gt^ty w^H stilt hate the 
lights and make a prey to theif pride and malice of a 
conscionable reprover. 4. The pastors will be stSll 
troubling the church W^ their pride^ and avarice^ 
and contentions 3 and the Worst Will be seeking to be 
the greatest^ and they that seek it are likest to attain 
it. 5. He 'that is highest trill be Still imposing his 
conceits upon those und^r him^ and lorfflng it over 
God*s heritage^ and with IKotrephes caiftittg out the 
brethren^ and ruling them by cohstmint^ and not as 
volunteers. 6. Those that are truly judicious WiU 
stin comparativiely be few ; and eonseqfnehtly the 
troublers and dividers will be the ttittltitude -, and a 
judicious peacemaker and rec<>neiler wiUbd neglected, 
slighted, or hated by both ^tremes. 7. The tenor 
of the Gospel predictions, precepts, promises and 
threatehings, are fitted to a people in a stHfering state. 
8. And the graces of God in a beliex^r aite mostly 
suited to a state of suffering, d. Christians must 
imitate Christ, and suffer with him before they reign 
with him 5 and his kingdom was ndt of this if orid. 
10. The observation of God's dealing httfterto with 
the •church in every age conflrmeth miei : And his be- 
fooling them that have dreamed of glorious tiniies. 
, Jt was such dreams that transported the Munster Ana- 
baptists, and the followers of David George in the 


Low Countries^ and Campandla^ and the lUuminati 
among the Papists, and our English Anabaptists and 
other fenatics here, both in the army and the city and 
oonntry. When they think the golden age is come, 
they shew their dreams in their extravagant actions : 
and as omr Fifth Monarchy men, they are presently 
upon some unqaiet, rebellious attempt, to set up 
Christ in his kingdom whether he will or not. I re- 
member how Abraham Scultetus in Curriculo ViUb 
nue, oonlessedi the common yanity of himself and 
other Protestants in Germany, who seeing the princes 
in England, France, Bohemia, and many other 
countries to be all at once both great and wise, and 
fiiends to reformation, did presently expect the golden 
age : but within one year either death, or ruins of 
war, or backalidings, had exposed all their expecta- 
tions to scorn, and laid them lower than before. 

29. I do not lay so great a stress upon the external 
modes and forms of worship as many young profes- 
sors do. I have suspected myself, as perhaps the 
reader may do, that this is from a cooling and declin- 
ing from my farmer zeal (though the truth is, I never 
much complied with men of that mind) 3 but I find 
that judgment and charity are the causes of it, as far 
as 1 am able to discover. I cannot be so narrow in 
my principles of church-communion as many are, 
that are so much for a liturgy, or so much against it, 
so much for ceremonies or so much against them, 
that they can hold communion with no church that is 
not of their mind and way. If I were among the 
Greeks, the Lutherans, the Independents, yea, the 
Anabaptists (that own no heresy, nor set themselves 
against charity and peace), I would hold sometimes 
occasional communion with them as Christians, (if 
they will give me leave, without forcing me to any 


sinful subscription or action) : though my most usual 
communion should be with that society which I 
thought most agreeable to the Word of God, if I were 
free to choose. I cannot be of their opinion that 
think God will not accept him that prayeth by the 
Common Prayer Book, and that such forms are a 
self-invented worship which God rejecteth : nor yet 
can I be of their mind that say the like of extempo- 
rary prayers. 

30. I am much less regardful of the approbation of 
man, and set much lighter by contempt or applause 
than I did long ago. I am oft suspicious that this is 
not only from the increase of self-denial and humility -, 
but partly from ray being glutted and surfeited with 
human applause : and all worldly thingMippear most 
vain and unsatisfectory when we have tried them 
most. But though I feel that this hath some hand in 
the effect, yet as far as I can perceive, the knowledge 
of man*s nothingness, and God*s transcendent great- 
ness, with whom it is that I have most to do, and the 
sense of the brevity of human things, and the nearness 
of eternity are the principal causes of this effect, which 
some have imputed to self-conceitedness and morosity. 

31. I am more and more pleased with a solitary 
life 3 and though in a way of self-denial I could sub- 
mit to the most public life for the service of God, 
when he requireth it, and would not be unprofitable 
that I might be private; yet I must confess, it is much 
more pleasing to myself to be retired from the world, 
and to have very little to do with men, and to converse 
with God, and conscience, and good books ; of which I 
have spoken my heart in my '^ Divine Life,'^ Part III. 

38. I'hough I was never much tempted to the sin 
of covetousness, yet my fear of dying was wont to 
teU me, that I was not sufficiently loosened from this 

162 « AJ»PENDlk. 

wofld. But I find that it is compai^fttively very easy 
to me to be loose from this wdrld, bilt hdrd to lire by 
Mth above. To despise eftrth is easy to me 3 but not 
so easy to be acquainted and conversant in heaven. I 
have nothing in this woiM which I could not easily 
let go ; but to get satis^ng apprehensions of the 
other world is the great and grievous difficulty. 

33. I am much more apprehensive than long ago^ 
of the odiousness and danger of the sin of pride ; 
scarce any sin appeareth more odious to me : having 
dail)r more acquaintance with the lamentable naugh- 
tiness and fi*ailty of man^ and of the mischiefs of that 
sin^ and especially in matters spiritual and ecclesias- 
iic6l. I think so far as any man is proud he is kin to 
ihe devil^ &nd utterly a stronger to God and to him* 
sd^. It is iL wonder that it should be a possible sin 
to tten that still carry about with them^ in soul mid 
body, suck humbling matter of remedy as we all do. 

34. I more than ever lament the unhappiness of 
the nobility, gentry, and great ones of the world> who 
live in such temptation to sensuality, curiosity, and 
wasting of their time about a multitude of little thiii^ ; 
and whose lives are too often the transcript of the sins 
of Sodom, pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of 
idleneils, and want of compassion to .the poor. And 
I more vtAne the life of the poor labouring man > bat 
especially of him that hath neither poverty nor riches. 

35. I am much more sensible than hereto^e, of 
th6 breadth, and length, and depth of the radical. 
Universal, odious sin of selfishness, and therefore have 
written so much against it ; and of the esccellency 
and necessity of self-denial, and of a public mind, 
and of loving our neighbours as ourselves. 

^6. I am more and more sensible that most con- 
troversies Jiave more need of right stating than of de- 


batii^ 5 and if my skill be increased in any thing, it 
is in that, in narrowing controversies by explication, 
and separating the real from the verbal, and proving 
to many contenders that ijiey differ less than they 
think they do. 

S7' I am more solicitous than I have been about 
my duty to God, and less solicitous about his dealiflj^s 
with me, as being assured that he will do aU things 
well 'y and as acknowledging the goodness of all the 
declarations of his holiness> even in the punishment 
of man 5 and as knowing thait there is no i^srt but in 
the will and goodness of God. 

S8. Though my works Were never such as could 
be any temptation to me to dream of obliging God 
by proper merit, in commutative justice j yet one of 
the most ready> constant, undoubted evIAences of my 
uprightness and interest in his covenant^ is the con* 
sciousness of my living as devoted to him. And I 
the more easily believe the pardon of my fellings 
through my Redeemer, while I know that I serve no 
other master, and that I know no ol^r end, or trade> 
or business } but that t am employed in his woric, 
and make it the business of my life, and live to lum 
in the woiM notwith^tandi^ my infirmities. And 
this bent and business of my life, wi<^ my longing 
desires i^er perfection> iix the knowledge, and belief 
and love of God, and in a holy and heavenly mind 
and Hfe, are the two standing, constant, discernible 
evidences which most put me out of doubt of my 
sincerity : and I find that constant action aikl duty is 
it that keepeth the first always in s^ht -, and constant 
wants and weaknesses, and coming short of my de- 
sires, do make those desires still the more trouble- 
some, and so the more easily still perceived. 
39. Though my habitual judgment, and resolution. 


and scope of life be still the same, yet I find a great 
mutability as to actual apprehensions^ and degrees of 
grace ; and consequently find that so mutable a ihing 
as the mind of man would never keep itself if God 
were not its keeper. When I have been seriously 
musing upon the reasons of Christianity^ with t&e 
concurrent evidences methodically placed in their just 
advantages before my eyes^ I am so clear in my be- 
lief of the Christian verities^ that Satan hath little 
room for a temptation. But sometimes when he 
hath on a sudden set some temptation before me^ 
when the aforesaid evidences have been out of the 
way> or less upon my thoughts^ he hath by such sur- 
prises amazed me^ and Vreakened my faith in the 
present act. So also as to the love of God^ and 
trusting in him> sometimes when the motives^ are 
clearly apprehended^ the duty is more easy and de- 
lightful : and at other times I am merely passive and 
dull^ if not guilty of actual despondency and distrust. 
40. I am much more cautelous in my belief of his- 
tory than heretofore : not that I run into their ex- 
treme that will believe nothing because they cannot 
believe all things. But I am abundantly satisfied by 
the experience of this age^ that there is no believing 
two sorts of men^ ungodly men^ and partial men -, 
though an honest heathen of no religion may be be- 
lieved^ where enmity against religion biasseth him 
not ; yet tt debauched Christian^ besides his enmity 
to the power and practice of his own religion^ is sel- 
dom without some farther bias of interest or faction -, 
especially when these concur, and a man is both up- 
godly and ambitious, espousing an interest contrary 
to a holy, heavenly life ', and also factious, embodyit^ 
himself with a sect or party suited to his spirit and 
designs, there is no believing his Word or oath. If 

APPEN^>IX. 166 

you read any man partially bitter against others as 
differing from him in opinion^ or as cross to his great- 
ness, interest or designs, take heed how you believe 
any more than the historical evidence, distinct from 
his word, compelleth you to believe. The prodigious 
lies which have been published in this age in matters 
of fact, with unblushing confidence, even where thou- 
sands or multitudes of eye and ear- witnesses knew all 
to be false, dalk call men to take heed what history 
they believe, especially where power and violence af- 
fordeth that privilege to the reporter, that no man 
dare answer him or detect his fraud, or if they do 
their writings are all suppressed. As long as men 
have liberty to examine and contradict one another, 
one may partly conjecture, by comparing their words, 
on which side the truth is likely to lie. But when 
great men write history, or flatteries by their appoint* 
ment, which no man dare contradict, believe it but as 
you are constrained. Yet in these cases I can freely 
believe history : 1. If the person shew that he is ac- 
quainted with what he saith. 2. And if he shew you 
the evidences of honesty and conscience^ and the fear 
of God, which may be much perceived in the spirit 
of a writing. 3. And if he appear to be impartial and 
charitable, and a lover of goodness'and of mankind ; 
and not possessed with malignity or personal iUwiQ 
and malice, nor carried away by faction or personal 
interest. Conscionable men dare not lie ; but faction, 
and interest abate men*s tenderness of conscience. 
And a charitable, impartial heathen may speak truth 
in a love to truth and hatred of a lie : but ambitious 
malice and false religion will not stick to serve them- 
selves on any thing. It is easy to trace the footsteps 
of veracity in the intelligence, impartiality and inge- 
nuity of a Thuanus, a Guicciardine, a Paulus Ven^tj 


though Pa{H8ts> and of Soemtes and Sozomen^ thou^ 
accused by the fiactious of fiivoiiring the Novatians ; 
and many Protestants in a Melancthon^ a Bucholtzer, 
and many more ; and among physicians in such as 
Crato> Platerus, &c. But it is easy to see the foot- 
steps of partiality, and faction, and design, in a Ge« 
nebrard, a Baronius, and a multitude of their com- 
panicNis, and to see reason of suspicion in many more* 
Therefore 1 confess I give but haltingueredit to most 
histories that are written, not only against the Albi* 
genses and Waldenses, but against most of the an« 
cient heretics, who have left us none of their own 
writings in which th^ speak for themselves, and I 
heartUy lament that the historical writings of the 
ancient schisipatics aod herettes (aa they werejcalled) 
p^ished, and that partiality snffieredthem not to sur^ 
vive, thatwe might have had more Ught in the^uroh- 
afiairs oi those times, and been better able to judge 
between the Fathers- and them. And as I am prone 
to think that few of them were so bad as their adrer- 
8arie»made them^ so I am apt to think that svdti as 
the Novatians, and Lueiferiana, and Indians, Btc 
whom their adversaries condemn, were very good 
men> and more godly than most Catholics, however 
mistaken in soaa6 one point. Sure I am that as the 
lies of the Papists, of Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin anl 
Beza, are visibly malicious and impudent, by the 
comBfton plenary contradicting evidence j and yel 
the multitude of their seduced ones believe them aU 
in despite of truth and charity : so in this age there 
have been such things written against parties and 
persons whon the writers design to make odious, 
so notoriously false as you would thidak that the sense 
of their honour at lipast should have made it impossi- 
ble for such men to write. My own eyes have i«ad 



such worda and actions asserted with most vehement 
ilf^ated^ unblushing confidence^ which abundance of 
oarirwi^sses^ even of their own parties must needs 
\^giw %Q have been altogether false : and therefore 
having lyiyself now written this history pf myself^ 
notwithstanding my protestation that 1 have not. in 
any thing wilfully gone against the truth> I expect no 
more credit from the r^ader^ than the self-evideneiag 
light of ti^ matter^ with concurrent rational adviukf 
tQges^ from personSi aryl things^ and other witiieaie»> 
shall constrf^n him to 5 if he be a person that is.un<« 
acquaint^ with the author himself^ and the other, 
evidences of his veracity aod credibility. And^ I have 
purposely omitted almost all the descriptions <^ any 
persons that ever opjiosed me> or that ever I or my 
brethren suffered by^ because I know that the appear^ 
ance of interest and partiality m]ght^give a £air ex« 
cuse to the reader's incredulity : (although indeed the 
true description of persans is much of the very life of 
history^ and esp^ially of the history of the age which 
I have lived in 3 yet to avodd the suspicion of partia- 
lity I have left it out) . E:i;^pt only when I speak of 
the Cromwellians and Sectaries^ where I taa the more 
freeji because none su^p^^th my interest to haverea* 
gaged me against then^ ^ but (with tibe rest of my 
brethren) I have opposed them in the obedience oi 
my conscience^ when by pleasing them I.ccvukl have 
had alxnost any thing that they could h»ve given me^ 
and when befoarehand I expected that the pvesent 
governors should silence me^ and deprive me of main« 
tenancpj house and hom^> as they have done by me 
and many hundr^s more, llh^refoce I supposed' 
that my descriptions and censures of those penoas 
which would have enriched and hpooAired s^ie, and of 
their actions against that party which hafth sUeaced- 


impcnreiidhed and accused me, and which beforehand 
1 expected should do so, are beyond the suspicion of 
envy, self-interest or partiality : if not^ I there also 
am content that the reader exercise his liberty, and 
believe no worse even of these men, than the evidence 
of fact constraineth him. 

Thus much of the alterations of my soul, since my 
younger years, I thought best to give the reader, in- 
stead of those experiences and actual motions and af- 
fections, which I suppose him rather to have expected 
an account of.' And having transcribed thus much 
of a life which God hath read, and conscience hath 
read, and must farther read, I humbly lament it, and 
beg pardon of it, as sinful, and too unequal and un- 
profitable 1 and I warn the reader to amend that in 
his own, which he findeth to have been amiss in mine 3 
confessing also that much hath been amiss which I 
have not' here particularly mentioned, and that I have 
not lived according to the abundant mercies of the 
Lord. But what 1 have recorded, hath been espe- 
cially to perform my vows, and declare his praise to 
all generations, who hath filled up my days with 
his invaluable favours, and bound me to Uess his 
name for ever : and also to prevent the defective per- 
formance of this task by some overvaluing brethren 
who I know intended it, and were unfitter to do it 
than myself. And for such reasons as Junius, Scul- 
tetus, Thuanus, and many others have done the like 
before me. The principal of which are these three : 
1. As travellers and seamen use to do after great ad- 
ventures and deliverances, I hereby satisfy my con- 
science, in praising the blessed author of all those un- 
deserved mercies which have filled up my life. 2. 
Foreseeing by the attempts of Bishop Morley, what 
Prelatist^ and Papists are like to say of me, when they 


have none to contradict them^ and how possible it is 
that those that never knew me may believe them^ 
though they have lost their hopes with all the rest^ I 
take it to be my duty to be so faithful to that stock 
of reputation which God hath intrusted me with^ as 
to defend it at the rate of opening the truth. Such 
as have made the world believe that Luther consulted 
with the devU^ that Calvin was a stigmatized So- 
domite> that Beza turned Papist^ &c. to blast their la-> 
bours^ 1 know are very likely to say any thing by me, 
which their interest or malice tell them will any way 
advantage their cause> to make my writings unprofi- 
table when I am dead. 3. That young Christians 
may be warned by the mistakes and failings of my 
unripe^ times, to learn in patience, and live in watch- 
fulnessi and not to. be fierce and proudly confident in 
their first conceptions ; and to reverence ripe expe- 
rienced age, and to take heed of taking such for their 
chief guides as have nothing but immature and in-r 
es^erienced judgments, with fervent affections, and 
free and confident expressions ^ but to learn of them 
that have with holiness, study, time and trial, looked 
about them as well on one side as the other, itnd att 
tained to clearness and impartiality in their judgments; 
1, But having mentioned the changes which I 
think were for the better, I must add, that as I conr 
fessed many of my sins before, so since I have been 
guilty of many, which because materially they seemed 
small, have had the less resistance^ and yet on the rer 
view da trouble more than if they had been greater, 
done in ignorance : it can be no small sin formally 
which is committed against knowledge, and con«- 
scienoe, ;and deliberation, whatever excuse it have. 
To h^ye aliened while I preached and wrote against 

170 APPSNmx. 

am, titid had«uch abundaat aad great oUigatioiu fipom 
Godf. aod made bo many promises against iti doth lay 
me Tery low : not so imich.itt fear of faell^.as in gteai 
di^leaBure against myself, and sudi seif-al^rrence 
as would cause revenge upon myself were it not fbr- 
bidden. When God foigii^eth mel cannotfoigive sdy^ 
self, especially fi>^ any. rash words or deeds, by wMeh 
I hayo seemed ii^urious, and Ibss t^der and Mind 
than I ShouM lutve been to iny near and dear vdations, 
whose lore abundantly tjUig^ nie; when such are 
dead, tfaough we never diflbred in point of inteilbst or 
any great matter, every sour, or cioss provoking 
word ^i^ch 1 gave them, maketh me almost irreoon^ 
cileafale. to myself: and tells me how retpentance 
brought some of old to pray to tte dead whom th^ had 
wronged, toforgive them , in the hurry of their pas8ion> 
^, And though I before told the change of my 
judgment against pnovbking writii^, I have had 
mope will than skffl since to avoid such. I must 
mention it by v^ay of penitent confession, that I tm 
too much inclined to such words in controversial 
wiitings which are too keen, and apt? to pro^eioke^th^ 
person whom 1 write against. Sbmeti^ncsl 8dS|»Qdt 
dial a^ soureCh my ^irits, and sooietit&es I am apt 
to tiodnk liiatitis long tinnkiii^'and speaking<rf such 
things tiiat maUeth me wo^, and less patS^nt^ wiA 
others that'tuodetstand them not: and spmdtiines I 
am '»ady to think that it is outof -a hatt^<»^l9te 
flatteiing hmnonn'wlnch now prevailisih'^soi in the 
worlds that few petsohslaarei^lde to bear the^tfcrUi : 
and:I«aistB*e.thaticaDnat only: bear mys^ sudi 
language as i^nie- to others, >ut that I enpsct it; I 
thwk all these are partly causes ^ but 1 aim sure the 
prindpal. cause is a long ou^tom of studying how to 
speak and write in the keenest manner to the com* 


mon^ ]giu?dPant and ungodly people ^(without which 
keenness to th^m, no flarmem nor hook doesiiniich 
good) % ifiifhich hath so-hafoitiialed me toit^ that I am 
still fiaJluig into this same with ethers ^ fbrgettang 
that many ministers: and prolSessors of strictness do 
desire the greatest sharpness to tiie Tiilgar^ and to 
their adversari^^ and the grfeatestlenity/and smooth* 
ness^ and c^mlort, if not honour to themselves. And 
I ha.v« a strokng natural inclination to speak of every 
subject JDL^t'iusf it is^ and to call a spade a ^ade, 
l«t verba r^bus aptare 5' so as that the ihing spoken 
of mi^y be most fully known by the wprds> wMch 
methinks is pott of our spedking truly. But I tin-* 
feignedly confess that it is faulty, becoase impru* 
dent i (for that is not agood means which doih batm, 
because it is not fitted to the end 3) and because 
whilst the readers think me angry^ (though I ieel no 
passion at such tames. in myself) it is scandalous and 
a hindrance to the usefulness of what' I write : and 
e^>QciaUy because (though I feel no anger> yet which 
is worse) I know that there is sobie want of honour 
and love or tenderness to others > or else I should not 
be apt to use such words as open their weakness and 
offend them : and therefore I repent of it, and^ wi^h 
all over-sharp passages were expunged frdm my 
wvitings> and desire forgiveness of God and man. 
And yet I must say, that I am ofl afraid of the con<^ 
tmvy extreme, lest when I speak against great and 
dangerous errors and sins, (thoi;^h of persons others 
wise honest) I should encourage men to them, by 
speaking too easily of them (as Eli did to his sons)> 
and lest I should so favour the person as may befriend 
the^n, and wrong the church. Aiid I must say, as 
the New England Synodists in their defence against 
Mr. Davenport, '^ We heartily desii^ tliat as much as 

172 APP£Nt>IX. 

maybe, all expressions and reflections may be for-' 
born that tend to break the hood of lote. Indeed such 
is our infirmity, that the naked discovery of the fellacy 
or invalidity of another's allegations or atgidngs* is 
apt to provoke. This in disputes is unavoidable.*' 

And therefore I am less for a disputing Way than 
ever $ believing that it tempteth men to bend their 
wits, to defend their errors and oppose the truth, and 
hindereth usually their information : and the servant 
of the LfOrd must not strive, but be gentle to all men, 
&c. Therefore I am most in j udgment for a learning 
or a teaching way of converse. In all companies I 
will be glad either to hear those Speak that can teach 
me, or to be heard of those that have need to learn. 
. And that which I named befcfre on the by, is grown 
one of my great diseases. I have lost much of that 
zeal which 1 had, to propagate any truths to others, 
save the mere fundamentals. When I perceive peo« 
pie or ministers (which is too common) to think they 
know what indeed they do not, and to dispute those 
things . which they never thoroughly studied, or ex- 
pect I should debate the case with them, as if an 
hour's talk would serve instead of an acute under- 
standing and. seven years* study, I have no zeal to 
make them of my opinion, but an impatience of con* 
tinning discourse with them on such subjects, and am 
apt to be silent or to turn to something else : which 
(though there be some reason for it) I feel coqieth 
from a want of zeal for the truth, and from an im- 
patient temper 4of mind. I am ready to think that 
people should quickly understand all in a few words ; 
and if they cannot, lazily to despair of them, and 
leave them to themselves. And I the more know 
that it is sinful in me, because it is partly so in other 
things 3 even about the foults of my servants or other 


ii|fierioi:a> if thzee at four times waraiiig do uo gocni 
oa ^tUh, I UQ muoh tempted to. despptir of theiki^ nad 
twrntheili away^ and leave ^em toJhemsdlves,: . 

I mendc^ii ^Ibose'disteiQfieFS^ that my fouks may 
be a warning. to others to take heedi^ as they call on 
myself £ar re{»entance and watchfnktess. O Lord^ for 
the merits^ and sacrifice, and intercession of Christ> 
be merciful to me a sinner, and forgive my known 
and unknown sins. 


As given in a Faa«ral Sermon preached by Mr. Matthew Sjrl^'ester. 

'' Mftr RicttAan BA&irBa.wa8 a person deservedly of 
greatlkflie and character in his day. He seemed to 
be a transcript of v^at is left iqwn record concern* 
ii^ Si. Paul, Sylvanm, and Timothy , in I I^ess. it. 
1.^.^18. It-Is evident he was a man of God, a Gospel* 
prophe^. He was finmished ietr, fervent in, painM 
about, and iSsithfid to, his ministerial trust and work ; 
and ttctinof^nai^ in the evident acceptance and suc- 
cesses of his Ininisterial labours. A man of dear, 
deep, feed Noughts 5 a man of copious afnd well di- 
gested reading ; a man of reculy, Hree, and very pro- 
per elocutidiV 3 and aptly expressive of his own 
thoughts and sentiments. Lie was ^most intent upon 
the wdghtiest and most nisefnl parts of learning 3 yet 
a great lover of all kitids and degrees thereof. He 
could, iB pleaching, writing, conference, accommo- 
date himself to all capacities 3 ^nd answer his obli« 
gatifons to the wiseimd unwise. He had a moving 
waB^s and useful acrimony in his Words 3 neither did 
his expressions want their emphatical accent, as the 
matter did require. And when he spake of weighty 

soul-concerns, you might find his very spirit drenched 

I 2 

174 Aip>BKmx. 

therein. He was pleafiingly oonversiblej save lit ida 
studying hours^ wherein he could not bear witii triirial 
disturbances. He was sparingly facetious ; but nei^er 
light or frothy. Hb heart was warm, plam, fixed : 
his life was blameless^ exemplary^ uniform. He was 
unmoveaUe> where apprehensive of his duty^ yet 
affable and condescending^ where likelihood of doing 
good was in his prospect. His personal abstinence^ 
severities and labours were exceeding great: he 
kept his body under^ and always feared pampering 
his flesh too much. He diligently and with great 
pleasure minded his master's work within doors and 
without^ while he .was able. His charity was very 
great; greatly proportionable to his abilities; his 
purse was ever open to the poor ^ and^ where the caae 
required, it^ he never thought great sums too much : 
he rather gaxecumulatim than denariaiim $ and suited 
what he gave> to the necessities and^ characters of 
those he gave to : nor was his charity confined to 
parties or opinions. He was a man of manifold and 
pressing exercises ; and of answerable patience and 
submission under the hand of God ; and though he 
was seldom without pain Or sickness (but mostly 
pain)> yet never did he murmur; but usod to say, 
' It is but flesh.* And when I have asked him how 
he did> his usual answer was^ either ^ Almost well^' 
or^ ' Better than I deserve to be^ but not so well as 
I hope to be/ Once^ I remember^ when I was with 
him in the country at his request^ he (being in the 
extremity of pain> and that so exquisite as to appear 
in the sudden and great changes of his countenance) 
raised himself from his couch whereon he had laid 
himself, and thus expressed himself, ' Whatever the 
world thinks of me^ I can truly say^ that I have served 
God with uprightness of hearty and that I never 




»pake any thing that I took not to be truths and at 
that time to be my duty / He Y^as no ways clande5* 
tinely rigid or censorious as to others. When he told 
men to their, faces of their faults he would hear what 
they had to say^ and then reprove them with as great 
pungency as he thought their fault deserved ) but yet 
' behind men's backs YSb was always ready to believe 
** -the best 3 and whatever he could think on that might 
•. extenuate their crime> if there was any likelihood of 
' truth therein^ he would be sure to mention that : so 
.great a friend was he to every man*s useful reputa-* 
I tibn. As to himself, even to the last> I never could 
'•.•perceive his peace and heavenly hopes assaulted or 
.disturbed. I have often heard him greatly lament 
'yhimself^ in that he felt no greater liveliness in what 
!:. appeared so great and clear to him^ and so very much 
' d^red by him. As to the influence thereof upon 
'^Ks-ajiirit^ in order to the sensible refreshments of it, 
'\/he clearly saw what ground he had to rejoice in God ; 
he .doubted not of his right to heaven : he told me, 
he knew it should be well with him when he was 
gone. He wondered to hear others speak of their so 
sensible, passionately strong desires to die -, and of 
their transports of spirit when sensible of their ap- 
proaching -death : wh^i as he himself thought he 
knew as much as they 3 and had as rational satisfac- 
.. tion as they could have that his soul was' safe : and 
yet could never feel their,sensible consolations. And 
wheii I asked hJm, whether much of this was not 
to be resolved into bodily constitution 3 he did in- 
deed tell me, that he thought it might be so. But 
I have often . thought, that God wisely made him 
herein (as in many other things) conformable to hisF 
great Master Jesus Christ 3 whose joys we find com- 
monly the fruit of deep and close thought. Christ 


ATgufid fadfiiflelf into his own comforts. Wbifdi ikkog 
is evident from Scriptures not a few i tdte fom t9St«r^ 
Psal. xvi. 8^11. Heb. xii« 2. Tbe /telAftony of 
his oonsdence was ever his r^oknn^ ; like thai ia 
S Cor. i. 12. He ever k^t that tender y !a»A gai^e 
such diligence to run his mce, fulfil his mi»istry> and 
so make his calling and elecfon fina BXtA cltor> as 
that I cannot but coiiislude, "an entrance was minis-' 
tered abundantly to his departed spirit into the ever- 
Listing kingdom of laa GodandSaYi€]iur> and thsl*t it 
wiU be more abundant to his raised persoti when, 
the hofd appeals. 

On Tuesday- morning about feuro'dock, December 
8> 169i> he expired | though heexpecCed and desired 
his dissolution to have been on the Lovd*s-day beforey 
which with joy> to me, he called a high tioy, because 
of his desired change expected then by lum. He had 
frequently before his death 'OWned to me hid cont^ 
nuance in the same'seiitinrents that he had disvsovered 
to the world before in his polemical discourses, es- 
pecially about justMcation, and thft ^vienants of 
works and g^aee, &c. And being asked aft my re* 
quest, whether he had changed his former thoughts 
about those things ; his answer was^ ^ Hiat he had 
told the world sufficiently his judgment conodrniifg 
them by words and writing, and thithier he referred 
men/ And then lifting up his eyes to heaven, he ut- 
tered these words ^ ' Lord, pity, pity, pity the igno- 
rance of thiis poor city.' About five o'dodk the pre- 
ceding evening. Death sent his harbinger to swn^on^ 
him away. A great trembling and c^okhiess 4^kBed 
him, and ^torted strong cries to Heaveh for pity atid 
redress -, after which he lay in an observant, patient 
expectation of his change. Being asked by his at- 
tendant whether he knew her or Hot, requesting some 


sigaificfttion of it if he did^ he softly cried^ death, 
deaih. The. last words that he spake to me (be- 
ing informed that 1 was come to see him) were 
these> ^ O I thank him^ 1 thank him :' and turning his 
eyes to me, he said, ' The Lord teach you to die/ 
* Thus liv^ed and died this excellent and holy man. In 
his person he was tall and slqnder, and stooped much ; 
his. countenance composed and grave, somewhat in* 
dining to smile. He had a piercing eye, a very ar- 
'ticulate speech, and. his deportment rather plain than 
CQmplimental. He had a great command over his 
thoughts* He had that happy faculty, so as to an- 
swer the character that was given.of him by a learned 
man dissenting from him, after discourse with him -, 
which was, that He could say what he would, and 
he could prove . what, he said,*' 

Dr. Bates also in a Funeral Sermon for Mr. Bax- 
ter, speaks of him as fpUows : 

^' Not long after his last seraoton, he felt the ap- 
proaches of death, and was confined to his sick bed. 
Death reveals the secrets of the heart, then ivords 
are spoken with most feeling and least affectation. 
This excellent saiiit was the same in his life and 
death : his last hours wei-e spent in preparing, others 
and himself to appear before Ood. He said to his 
friends that visited him, ^ You come hither to learn 
to die 3 I am not the only person that must go this 
way : 1 can assure you that your whole life, be it 
never so long, is little enough to prepare for death. 
Have a care of this vain, deceitful world, and .the 
lusts of the flesh : be sure you choQse God for your 
portion, heaven.for your hope, God's glory for your 
end, his word for your rule, and then you need ^never 
fear but we shall meet with comfort.' 

Many times he prayed, '^ God be merciful to me a 

178 APFiB^l>IK. 

sinner^" and ble«Md <}od thai that -was 1^ upon xe- 
ooojiaihe Om^ as an efifedoal pi«]fer* He saad^ 
*God fnay jusUy coodein& me fi)r the b^rt'dtitj^. T 
eyitr did :. and aA my hopes are from the free mercy 
of Gkid in Christ,' wMoh he often prayed i^ 

After a dumber^ he wadeed «nd said, ' I ^all Fest 
fmuQQ my labonr.' A minisiter -then present 6aid> 
And your works fottow yon : to wheiDQ he refdied, 
*• No worksy I wiU lea^Q out works, if God wUHigrant 
me the other.* When a friend was oomforting lam 
with the sememtoinoe^f the good many had veeeived 
by his pveadui^'and wirings, he said, ' I ^ras but 
a pen in God's hand,«nd wimt pndse is due taa pen V 
t fiis i^igned submission to the will pf Gk>d in his 
sharp sickness, was eimnent. When extremity of 
pain constrained him earnestly to pray to God for his 
release by death, he would chedchimsdf : ' It is not 
fit for me to prescribe $' and said, ' Whoi thou wilt, 
what thott wilt, how thou wilt/ 

Being in great angnish, he said, ' O how un- 
seavchaUe are has wi&ys, and his path» past finding 
out 5 the reaches of his providence we cannot fathom i ' 
and to his friends, ' Do not think the worse of rdi- 
gion for what you see me sufer.' 

B^ng often asked by his friends, how it was with 
his inwaid man, he veiled, *i bless God I have a 
wiell-grounded assvRBnoe of my eternal haj^ness^ 
And greaft peace Biid comfort within ;* but it was his 
trouUe he oould not triumphantly express it, by reason 
of his extreme paiHs. fie said, ' Mesh must perish, 
and we must feel the perishing of it : and that though 
his judgment submitted^ yet sense would 'still make 
him groan. 

Being asked by a person of quality, whether he 
had not great joy from his believing apprehensions 


of the invisible 8tate> he ireplled : ^ What else think 
you Christianity serves for ?* SL^md, 'The eonsi- 
deration of the Disity in his glory and greatness was 
too high for oar thoughts : but the oon^deration of 
the Son of 6od in our nature^ and of the saintft in 
heaven/ whom he knew and loved> did nrach sweeten 
and fttrnifiacize heiaveti to him,' The description of 
heaven in Heb.xii. 22^ was most comfortable to hiin : 
That he was going "^ to the innumerable compiMtyof 
angdiSj ond'to the general assembly and'^ church d£ 
the firstborn^ Whose names are written in heaven ; 
and tO'CKMl the judge cif all; and tb the spirits of just 
men modb perfect ; and to Jesus the Mediator of the 
New Covenant/ and to the blood of sprinkling that 
speaketh' better things than liie blood of Abel/' ' That 
Scripture,' he said, ' deserved a thousand thousand 
thoughts.' He said, 'O how comfortable is that 
promise, ■* fiye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
hath tt anter^ into the heart of man to conceive the 
thingr (skMl hath laid up for those who love him.** ' 

'AtaiioAer time he said, 'That he fout)d great 
comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of the 
Lord's Prayer, and was sorry that some good people 
were prejudiced against the use of it 5 for there were 
all necessary petitions for soul and body contained 
in it; 

At other times he gave excellent counsel to young 
ministers ftiat visited him, and earnestly prayed to 
God to bll9ss their labours, and make them very suc- 
cessful in converting many souls to Christ. 
. He did often pray that God would be merciful to 
this miserable, distracted world : and that he would 
preserve his church and interest in it. 

He advised his friends to beware of self-conceited- 
ness, as a sin that was likely to ruin this nation } 


and Bsid, * I \iwt written a book against it^ which I 
axQ'afiraid has done little good.' 

I went to him with'a very .troithy friend, Mr. Md- 
ther of New England, the day before he died, and 
speaking some comforting words to him, he replied, 
'I have pain, there: is no arguing a^inst sense, but 
I have peace; I have peace.' I toki him, * You are 
now approaching to your long-desifed home ;' he 
answ««^* '^ believe, I believe.* He said to JIfr; 
^idiher, ' * I bless Grod that you have .acoom^dished 
your business : the Lord prolong your life.* 

He expressed a great willingness to die ; iuid daring 
his sickness, when the question was asked, how he 
did, his reply was, ' Almost well.' His joy was most 
remaikaUe, when in his own apprehensions death 
was nearest: and his spiritual joy at length was 
consummate in eternal joy. 

llius lived and died that blessed saint. I have, 
without any artificial fiction of words, given a sincere 
short account of him. All our tears are^ below the 
just ^ef for such an invaluable loss. It is the com- 
fort of his friends, that he ei^oys a blessed reward in 
heaven, and has left a precious remeqtbrance on the 
earth. '?%^ 

May I live the short remaindeF:-#;,my life, as eti-'^ 
tirely to the glory of God, as he lived ) and when I 
shall come to the period of my life, may I die in the 
same blessed peace wherein he died ; may I be with 
him in the kingdom of light and love for ever !'' 


9,ichard Edwards, Printer* Crane-court, Fleet-9treet, Ix^ndon, 







This book is nnder no HMroamstanocs fto 
taken from the BuUding 



L 14 



* »6 *"» tSU