NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES
3 3433 08241224 2
*..
v%
^%
MEMOES
OF
THE LIFE AND MINISTRY
OF THE LATE
REV. THOMAS SPENCEF
OF
LIVERPOOL :
WITH
JJV APPENDIX,
CONTAINING A SELECTION FROM HIS PAPERS, &c.
BY THOMAS RAFFLES,
i
HI SUCCESSOR IN THE PASTORAL OFFICE-.
Boast not tbyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring
h. i „ ,
• Solomon.
How many fall as sudden, not as safe ! T</u>)g.
BOSTON :
PUBLISHED BY CHAKL7.S WILLI A-I*.
1815. (
i
LV -'.vi3
JVATHAMKL WILLIS. ..PH1> I
TO THE
CHURCH AND CONGREGATION
LATE UNDER THE PASTOBAL CARE
OP THE
REV. THOMAS SPENCER,
THESE
MEMOIRS,
COMPILED AND PUBLISHED AT THEIR REQUEST,
A3 A TESTIMONY TO THE WOULD
OF
THE ADMIRATION AND ESTEEM HIS GENIUS AND HIS PIETT
UNIVERSALLY INSPIRED ;
AND AS
A GRATEFUL MEMORIAL OF HIS ACCEPTABLE LABOURS
AND
TRANSCENDENT EXCELLENCIES,
AS A MINISTER, AS A MAX, AND AS A CHRISTIAN,
ARE
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED,
BY THEIR AFFECTIONATE PASTOR AND SINCERE FKIEM),
THOMAS RAFFLES.
VI
every quarter whence it might be furnished. But in this I
was disappointed; and it was some considerable time from
the annunciation of my design, before I was sufficiently
supplied to commence, with any degree of prudence, the
composition of the volume.
In addition to this, the laborious duties of a new and
most extensive charge, conspired often to suspend the pro-
secution of the work, for the appearance of whioh I knew
many to be anxious, but none' more so than myself.
Had I at first anticipated the extent of these Memoirs,
I should most probably have shrunk from the undertaking.
But the volume has grown almost' imperceptibly beneath
my hand. What I have recorded of the dear departed is
strictly true, so far as the veracity of the most excellent
men can warrant the assertion ; and whatever opportunity
the narrative has afforded of administering instruction I
have gladly seized, and conscientiously improved, leaving
ihe issue to a higher agent.
I have at length completed the work ; and now, with
the deepest humility and diffidence, I resign it to the
blessing of God — the consideration of friendship — and the
candour of the public. If to those who knew and loved
him, it shall sometimes recall, with grateful emotions, the
image and the excellencies of their departed friend ; if it
shall induce any to emulate the bright example of his
manly virtues, and his christian graces; or if but one,
anticipating or commencing the laborious duties of the
christian ministry, shall derive from the contemplation of
Spencer's character, instruction, caution, or encourage-
ment — I am amply recompensed — I have not laboured in
vain !
THOMAS RAFFLES.
Toxteth Pauk, Liverpool,
February 15th, 1813.
MEMOIRS; &c
Seldom has a task so painfully arduous falleil
to the lot of a biographer, as that which, in the
mysterious providence of God, has unexpectedly
devolved on me. The recollection of departed ex-
cellence, which a long series of years had de-
veloped and matured, is mingled with a melan-
choly feeling, and not unfrequently excites the
tribute of a tear ; but the individual who erects
a monument to friendship, genius, usefulness and
piety, prematurely wrapt in the oblivion of the
grave, must necessarily prosecute his mournful
work with trembling hands, and with a bleeding
heart. And yet the mind is soothed by the com-
munication of its sorrow ; the bosom is relieved
of an oppressive burthen while it tells the vir-
tues of the friend it mourns ; and the best feel-
ings of the heart are satisfied with the conscious-
a
ness, that instead of indulging in solitude the
luxury of unavailing grief, it has employed its
powers to pourtray, in lively colours, for the im-
provement of the living, the excellencies of the
8
beloved and pious dead. For myself, with mourn-
ful pleasure, I hasten to sketch the rude outline
of one of the loveliest and most finished charac-
ters the present age has known ; — pausing only to
express my deep regret, that one so ripe for heaven,
and yet so eminently useful upon earth, should be
called from the important sphere he occupied, so
soon ; and that to hands so feeble should be com-
mitted, — together with the solemn trust which he
resigned in death, the painful duty of erecting this
monument to his worth.
The Reverend Thomas Spencer, was born at
Hertford, January 21, 1791. — He occupied the third
place out of four who surrounded his father's table,
but shared equally with them in the tender and af-
fectionate solicitude of parents, who, placed in the
middle sphere of human life, were respectable for
their piety, and highly esteemed in the circle in
which a wise Providence had allotted them to move.
It cannot be expected that any thing peculiarly in-
teresting should mark the early childhood of a youth,
retired from the observation of the world, and far
removed from the presence of any of those circum-
stances which might be considered as favourable to
the excitation of latent talent or the display of
early genius. And yet the years of his infancy and
childhood were not undistinguished by some intima-
tions of a superior mind, from which a thoughtful
observer might have been induced to augur some-
thing of his future eminence, and which his amiable
father it appears did with silence watch. Ke him-
self observes in a hasty sketch of his life, which
now lies before me, — " As far back as I can recol-
9
lect, my memory was complimented by many as be-
ing very retentive, and my progress in knowledge
was more considerable than that of my school-fel-
lows : a natural curiosity and desire of knowledge, I
think I may say, without vanity, distinguished even
the period of my infancy. I now remember ques-
tions that I asked when about four years old, which
were rather singular, and which were confined chief-
ly to biblical subjects. No child could be more at-
tached to places of worship, or could be more in-
quisitive about their concerns than myself; and I
may add, more given to imitate the actions of the
minister and clerk."*
When he had completed his fifth year, he suffered
the severest earthly privation a child can know, in
the loss of an affectionate mother. Though then
too young correctly to appreciate a parent's worth,
he deeply felt the stroke ; and in the liveliest man-
ner he recalls the impression which at that early
period this melancholy circumstance produced upon
his tender mind. "When the funeral sermon was
preached I could not help noticing the grief which
seemed to pervade every person present. Deeply
affected myself, I recollect, that after the service,
as I was walking about our little garden with my
disconsolate father, J said to him, 6 Father, what is
the reason that so many people cried at the meeting
tli is afternoon.' — ITe, adapting his language to my
comprehension, said, 'They cried to see little chil-
dren like you without a mother."! This event,
uhieb shed so deep a gloom upon his family, seems
* M. S. Memoirs. f Ibid.
10
to have excited emotions of a serious nature in Ins
mind never totally effaced.
From this time he applied himself with diligence
and delight to the business of his school. There
was at- this early age something amiable and en-
gaging in his manners ; and this combined with his
attention to his learninsr, soon secured the esteem
and approbation of his respective teachers, and
gained him, together with the first place and highest
honours of his school, the character of " a good boy."
It is pleasing to mark the early combination of su-
perior talent and sweetness of disposition in this ex-
traordinary young man ; and it would be well, did
the patrons of early genius more deeply ponder the
reflection, that the graces of a meek and quiet spirit
are far more estimable than the rare qualities of a
prematurely vigorous mind; and that the talents
they cultivate with such anxious care, if unassocia-
tcd with real excellence of soul, may render the
idols of their fond adulation sources of anguish
to themselves and incalculable mischief to man-
kind.
Whilst a school boy, he became passionately fond
of novels, histories, adventures, &e. which he de-
voured with the greatest eagerness in numbers trulv
onishing. The perusal of these he always pre-
ferred (o play and other amusements adapted to his
years. He delighted much in solitude; nor did he
know a happiness superior to that of bein?~ alone,
with one of bis favourite books. lie took no delight
in tl . companions, nor did he ever
mingle m their little feuds. His , A levity,
li
however, was excessive ; and his wit, fed by the
publications he so ardently perused, would often dis-
play itself in impurity of language to the laughter
and amusement of his fellows. Yet he was not
without his moments of serious reflection, and that
of a very deep and dreadful kind. — He was often
overwhelmed with religious considerations, and the
solemn sermons he sometimes heard, filled him with
terror and alarm. So intolerable at one period were
the horrors of his mind, that in an asjonv of desnair,
he was tempted, as many have been before him. to
destroy himself. — Thus at an early age he became
intimately acquainted with the depravity of his na-
ture ; and from the deep waters of spiritual distress
through which he was called to pass, his soul imbibed
an air of humility and a habit of watchfulness, which
enabled him to meet with firmness the dangers of
popularity, and to maintain a steady course, not-
withstanding the press of sail he carried.
To these deep convictions of his early years may
perhaps be traced the peculiarly pressing and em-
passioned manner of his address, when he strove to
arouse the slumbering conscience, or direct the weary
wanderer to the cross of Christ. The sacred
poems and the passages of holy writ, which most he
loved, were those of a cast similar to that of his own
fervent mind; and 1 have heard many tel!, with
tears, of the animation and rapture with which he
would often repeat from that beautiful hymn of
He!»ry Kirke White, his favourite author, whom in
many shades of character he much resemMed, and
alas ! too much in his early and lamented fate —
12
Once on the stormy seas I rode,
The storm was loud, the night was dark ;
The ocean yawn'd, and rudely Llow'd
The wind that toss'd my found'ring bark.
Deep horror then my vitals froze;
Death struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem.
When suddenly a star arose,
It was the star of Bethlehem.
It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease ;
And thro' the storm of danger's thrall
It led me to the port of peace.
Now safely moor'd — my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever and for ever more,
The star ! — the star of Bethlehem.
The bias and inclination of his mind began at this
early period to be disclosed ; preachers and preach-
ing seemed to occupy all his thoughts, and often he
would exercise himself in addressing such domestic
i ongregations as may be supposed to constitute the
usual auditories of an infant. Thus in his earliest
eh i Idliood he displayed his fond attachment to the
Christian Ministry, and the first efforts of his infant
mind were directed to that sublime and dignified
profession, in which the capacities of his maturer
age were so brilliantly displayed. These infantine
compositions were not infrequently entirely his own;
and v. hen they claimed not the merit of originality,
thev were derived from hints collected from what he
had heard or read. But his preaching exhibitions
couW not long be confined to the narrow circle and
scautv congregation his father's house supplied;
13
tidings of his early pulpit talents soon circulated
through the neighbourhood: many were anxious to
listen to the instructions of this extraordinary child ;
and most regarded him, as he himself expresses it,
" a parson in en.br yo"
At this age also he wrote verses. He stems Mow-
ever to have had but a mean opinion of his talent
for poetry. It certainly was not the art in which
he most excelled. Though an individual may have
a power of rhyming sufficient for throwing his feel-
ings into tolerably easy verse, yet something more
than this is required in a production which, under
the dignified title of a poem, is to meet the public
eye. And while most men of an enlightened mind
and cultivated taste, have solicited the muses' aid
for purposes of private instruction and amusement,
and the domestic and social circle have been privi-
leged to share in both, yet it is not necessary to tlie
perfection of the pulpit orator, that he should be an
exquisite poet, nor is it at all a detraction from
the greatness of his character, that the world should
hesitate to pronounce unqualified praise upon poeti-
cal effusions, on which the eye or the ear of friend-
ship might linger with delight.
These observations will serve to account for the
circumstance, that none of Mr. Spencer's poetical
productions are preserved in these pages. And
while some partial friends, Mho saw with pleasure
the pieces which circulated in private, may regret
for the moment their entire exclusion here, his biog-
rapher hopes, that he shall render a more essential
service to the memory of his departed friend, by
occupying their place, with extracts from his pa-
pers of a more solid and interesting kind.
14
These early displays of talent however introduced
him to the notice and friendship of some individuals
of wealth and consequence. This was doubtless
considered by himself and his fond parent as no in-
considerable circumstance in the history and pros-
pects of a child, who, if he rose into eminence at all,
could have no facilities afforded him, by the auspi-
cious omens of his birth, or the rank of his father's
family. But alas! the fond anticipations which
from this quarter he cherished, and perhaps with
some degree of reason, were not all realized, to the
full extent to which his sanguine mind had urged
them. It was doubtless well for him, however,
that they were not. The disappointments of child-
hood will give a sober cast to the else too glowing
pictures and too anxious hopes of youth 5 and while
they excite a caution in respect to the confidence we
should place in the prospects that unfold themselves
before us, admirably prepare the mind for the event.,
when the pledges of friendship lie long unredeem-
ed, and the fair blossoms of hope are blasted and
destroyed.
In the mean time he applied himself with surpris-
ing diligence to the acquisition of knowledge. In
his favourite pursuit he met with the most impor-
tant aid, from the valuable friendship of the
late lie v. Ebenezer White, then the pastor of the
Independent Church at Hertford. — For this amia-
ble and pious man, so early lost to the church of
Christ,* Mr. Hpencer ever cherished and expressed
* Mr. While died Sunday, May 5th, 1811. An interesting
memoir of his lite (together with his select remains) has
been published by the IJev. Joseph Fletcher, A. M. of Dl
15
the warmest affection 5 whilst he survived but a
few weeks the melancholy pleasure of paying the
last tribute of respect to his beloved remains, and
giving utterance to the warm and authorized feelings
of his heart, in a most impressive oration at his
grave. From Mr. White he learned the rudiments
of the Latin tongue ; and though the early removal
of that gentleman to Chester deprived him of his
kind and valuable assistance, yet his father, who
had discernment to perceive, and wisdom to foster
the unfolding talents of his son, afforded him the
means of more ample instruction, by sending him to
the best school his native town supplied. Approba-
tion cannot be expressed in language too unqualified
of the conduct, in this respect, pursued by the pa-
rents of this amiable youth, who though surrounded
by every circumstance of a worldly nature to check
its progress, yet nobly determined to afford every
degree of culture, which such sacrifices as they
might be able to make would yield to a mind which
promised to rise superior to the obscurity of its
birth, and consecrate at some future period no com-
mon share of genius to the noblest and the best of
eauses. Nor must these expressions pass unmingled
by regret, that many important accessions are lost to
burn ; with a recommendatory preface, by the Rev. Dr. Coll-
yer, of London. In the melancholy but pleasing- task of se-
lecting' these papers for the press, Mr. Fletcher was original-
ly joined by the subject of these memoirs : — but whilst Mr.
Spencer was thus engaged in rearing a monument to the me-
mory of his departed iVic.id — he too was suddenly removed,
and it devolved upon the hard of friendship to perform the
e ofbV-. for himself
1(3
the interests of religion and literature by the neg-
lect of ignorant, or the reluctance of sordid pa-
rents, who in the one case have not the capacity to
discover talent, or in the other a disposition, where
their worldly circumstances are narrow and scanty,
to make any sacrifice of ease on their part, or ex-
pected emolument on that of the child, for its cul-
tivation.
«
Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear ;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
At about the age of twelve years, Mr. Spencer
considers himself to have become the subject of seri-
ous impressions of a deep and permanent kind, and
to have felt something experimentally of the power
of religion. This most interesting circumstance he
simply states in the memoir of his life before refer-
red to, but mentions no particulars respecting the
mode in which these impressions were wrought upon
his mind, or in what way they operated upon his
character, his conduct, and his views. The general
effect, however, he distinctly records to have been
that of heightening his desire of the Christian min-
istry, for which, it was strongly impressed upon
his mind, God had destined him; whilst it reconcil-
ed him to his present situation, which was most un-
congenial to the bias of his mind, and most unfriend-
ly to t lie accomplishment of his ardent wishes; for
tlte circumstances of his father's family were at that
time of such a nature as to render his assistance
essary between the hours of school, and at lea
17
compelled his parent, however reluctantly, entirely to
remove him. His removal from school, however)
was not in consequence of his father's having aban-
doned the prospect of his one day entering on the
work of the ministry, but an act dictated by pru-*
deuce, which afforded him an opportunity patiently
to wait, and calmly to watch the leadings of Prov-
idence, and the occurrence of any circumstances
which might tend to fix the future destiny of his
son. These prudential arrangements, however,
were a source of keenest anguish to the mind of
Spencer. He bowed at first with reluctance to the
yoke of manual labour when but partially imposed
— rapidly performed the appointed task, and leaped
with joy from toils so repugnant to the elevated and
ardent desires of his soul, to solitude and to books ;
and when compelled entirely to leave his school
and pursue from day to day the twisting of ivors-
ted, which he calls the worst part of his father's
business, his grief was poignant and his regret se-
vere. But religion, in early life, assumed in him
her mildest and most amiable forms. Its charac-
ters were those of uncomplaining acquiescence in
the will of God, and cheerful resignation to his
earthly lot. If, indeed, with patient submission to
the arrangements of Providence, he occasionally
mingled a warm expression of desire, and suffered
his imagination to dwelljipon the bright visions of
better days, and the animating promise of pursuits
more congenial to the tone and inclination of his
mind, which hope would give, till, for a moment, it
seemed reluctant to return; — it was natural; — nor
is it incompatible with the most perfect resignation
*.->
18
to the divine will tints to dwell on scenes of promised
pleasure with delight. Such a combination of light
and shade is beautiful in nature ; and not infrequent-
ly in tbe history of a Christian's feelings does the
sunshine of resignation break in upon the tears of
sorrow, and produce a commixture of indefinable feel-
ings, which, like the bow of heaven, are a pledge
not unredeemed, of fairer scenery and happier days.
The writer, in thus recording the mingled feel-
ings of his friend, has participated too deeply in
circumstances and emotions similar to his, nst to do
it with the warmth of sympathy. He knows how
hard it is to give a cheerful and undivided attention
to one pursuit, though less repugnant than mechani-
cal employ, when the heart is intently fixed upon
another. Ill does the mind adapt itself to the nar-
row rules of business, the drudgery of manual labour,
or the habits of commerce, when panting after study,
devoted to the love of books, or i iger to engage
in the noblest work that can occupy the powers of
man, — the ministry of the gospel : — impressed with
a consciousness, that if it is the will of God that
the desire enkindled and cherished in the 'bosom
*hould be fulfilled, some event will transpire to af-
ford facilities and point the way, — but day after
day expecting that event in vain, till hope deferred
makes the heart sick, and all the visions with which
^he has charmed, seem gradually yielding to the
influence of despair. Yet even here, religion has a
power to sooth ; she sheds the milder influence of
resignation, when the glare of hope is gone. —
"Gives evem affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to Ins lot."
19
Ha continued working at his fiither's business and
in his father's house, for about a year and a half,
anxiously expecting some situation to present itself
more congenial to his wishes, but no circumstance
arose to interrupt the monotonous sameness of his
every day's employ. It seems, however, that he
still attended to the cultivation of his mind, and never
wholly lost sight of the Christian ministry. Mean-
while business languished, and his father was desir-
ous of seeing him comfortably settled. Their mu-
tual anxiety increasing to impatience, and his father
reading on the cover of a Magazine an advertise^
ment for a situation which appeared to be suitable,
they set out for London, but upon an interview with
the advertiser they found insuperable difficulties in
the way, and returned, with disappointment, to Hert-
ford.
Some weeks after this fruitless journey, Mr. Spen-
cer was recommended by a friend to place his sou
with Messrs. Winwood and Thudey, respectable
glovers in the Poultry, who also introduced him t r >
Mr. Thodev's notice. The first interview between
the parties was satisfactory; every arrangement
was made preparatory to his being bound apprentice,
and Thomas soon after entered, in a new c«.pa.city,
this worthy gentleman's house. The services con-
nected with his new situation, the better part, of
which was far from grateful to the wishes of Ms
heart, still panting for the ministry with unconquer-
able attachment, were some of them such as his spir-
it, at first, but reluctantly submitted to perform ;
yet aware that then the providence of God pointed
out no other path, he cheerfully acquiesced and ex
20
changed, not without regret, the calm and tranquil
enjoyments of an endeared domestic circle, for the
bosom of strangers, the drudgery of a shop, and the
bustle of the Poultry.— -But here, as formerly at
school, his amiable manners — his modest behaviour,
and engaging appearance, soon won the affection of
the family, (which was large,) whilst his fervent
piety and superior talents, excited emotions of a
higher order. An extract of a letter, obligingly
addressed to me from Mr. Thodey himself, will best
record his manner of life, whilst under that gentle-
man's roof.
" His appearance, his genuine modesty, diligence
and integrity, created an interest in our hearts, so
as it were almost to identify him as one of our
own children ; he shared our privileges ; united
with us in family devotion ; and I occasionally took
the same opportunities of conversing with him on
diviue things, which I had been accustomed to do
with all those under my care. 1 well recollect one
Sabbath evening, being thus engaged with him
alone, when from his pertinent replies to some ques-
tions I put to him about the concerns of his soul
and the importance of an interest in the Saviour,
I perceived he possessed an uncommon share of
talent and intellect. This conversation gave me
an impressive idea of his general knowledge of the
doctrines of the gospel, and I saw in him the traits
of a very strong and ardent mind."
Whilst at Mr. Thodey's he conscientiously de-
voted himself to promote the interests of his employ-
ers, notwithstanding his natural aversion to busi-
ness. He even became peculiarly attached to the.
2i
family, and receiving from them tokens of affec-
tionate attention, superior to anv thins: he had a
right to expect, and of which he always spoke
with gratitude, he became as happy as the cir-
cumstances of his lot could possibly allow him to
he. He formed an acquaintance with several pi-
ous young men, who, though rather above his sta-
tion, did not hesitate to respect genius and re-
ligion, even in a lad of inferior rank in life.
Several times, also ? he exercised his preaching ta-
lents at the house of a relation of the young man
\>lio was then his fellow servant, but was afterwards
a student in the game academy with himself, and
is now a useful minister of the gospel.*
He describes the exercises of his mind and the
mode in whieh he passed his time, during his resi-
dence in the Poultry, with great simplicity and feel-
ing'
" At this place my time was entirely employed,
as it was fit it should be, in executing the will of my
two masters; for the young man, who was active
and friendly, I formed a great attachment, and was
indeed interested in the welfare of the whole family.
Marks of respect were shown me, which were I be-
lieve unusual to any of my predecessors. 1 made
myself upon the whole tolerably comfortable ; some
difficulties and disagreeable circumstances of course
fell to my lot, yet upon the whole I had many enjoy-
ments. My acquaintance, whilst, here, increased :
* The [lev. Thomas HeWard, of Clare, *o whom I cheer-
. 11 v take this opportunity of publicly rendering my thanks
■ several interesting letters of Mr. Spencer's, which will
" in these par-'
22
with several young men, who indeed were rather
above my station in life; I Mas particularly intimate,
anil more than twice or thrice did I give an exhor-
tation at the house of a relative of the young man's,
who was my fellow-servant. The opportunities I
had of hearing the word were very delightful, and a,
higher relish was given to them hy the toils and
business of the week/**
To youth who may be placed in similar circum-
stances with the amiable subject of these memoirs,
his mild and cheerful deportment in scenes so un-
congenial to the bios of his mind, should prove a
salutary and impressive lesson. Impatience and
fretfnlness are but ill adapted to Vae furtherance of
any design, and a disposition to murmur, under the
arrangements of our present lot, marks a state of
mind most unfriendly to the patient sufferance of the
toils, the anxieties and the disappointments insepa-
rably connected with the ministerial life: and whilst
it is an obvious fact, that every young man posses-
sed of piety cannot be employed as a preacher of
fhe gospel, to such as conceive themselves endowed
with talents for that solemn office, and yet are
placed in circumstances, which seem to forbid the
indulgence of a hope they still cherish with an anxi-
ous pleasure : — to such, the subsequent history of Mr.
Spencer, will afford another striking proof, in an in-
numerable series, — that where God has actually cal-
led and qualified an individual for the ministry, he
will, in his own time and by unexpected methods,
make the path of duty plain before thai individaal's
■'- M. S. Meittoir
2B
feet. Let no one, then, rashly attempt to break the
connected chain of opposing circumstances by which
his providence may have surrounded him ; but rath-
er wait in patience till the hand that has thus en-
circled him opens up a passage, and by events, which
may justly be considered as intimations of the divine
will, invites him to advance.
These remarks, the result of frequent observa-
tions on the ways of God in cases similar to this,
not improperly connect the future scenes of Mr.
Spencers life, with those we have already contem-
plated. For the time was now arrived, that the
cloud which had hovered over his future prospects
should be dissipated, and another path, — a path to
which he had from infancy directed his attention
with fond anticipation and intense desire, present its
varied and momentous objects of pursuit for the
cheerful, but, alas ! the short-lived exercise of his
superior powers. After a residence of about four
months with his employers in the Poultry, circum-
stances occurred of such a nature as to render his
services no longer necessary, on which account fee
left London and returned for awhile to his parents
at Hertford; but some time previous to the event
which caused his departure from London, he had
been introduced to the notice of Thomas Wilson, Esq.
the benevolent and indefatigable Treasurer of (lie
Academy for educating young men for the work of
the ministry, at Hoxton. . Mr. Wilson perceived in
him piety and talents far above h'n years. His
whole appearance and his engaging manners ex-
cited in that gentleman's brea4, an interest in this
avjiable vouth, which he never lust, and he gave it
&4
as his decided opinion, (without elating him with a
hope, of the ultimate failure of \Yhich, there was
still a probability,) that his views should in some
way or other be directed towards the ministry.
This revolution in Mr. Spencers affairs was not
unnoticed or unimproved by Mr. Wilson, who wise-
ly regarding it as a favourable opportunity for car-
rying into effect those generous designs respecting
him, which from their first interview he had cherish-
ed, sent for him ; conversed with him upon the sub-
ject, and introduced him to the Rev. William Hor-
dle, of Harwich, a gentleman to whose care some of
the young men were committed, whose youth or oth-
er circumstances did not allow of their immediate
entrance into the Academy, though they were con-
sidered as proper objects of its patronage. To this
gentleman, at length, Mr. Wilson proposed to send
Mr. Spencer for trial of his talents and piety, and
for preparatory studies ; a proposition to which Mr.
Spencer acceded with unfeigned gratitude and joy.
The time fixed for his entrance into Mr. Hordle's
family was January, 1806. The interval between
this period and that of his departure from the Poul-
try, which was in October, 1803, he spent in his fa-
ther's house, and for the most part in his father's
business. Though this was repugnant to his feel-
ings, he had yet learned, by five months' absence,
in the bustle of a shop in the city, to appreciate the
calm and tranquil pleasures of a domestic circle, to
which he became more endeared as the lovely qual-
ities of his mind unfolded, and the dignified and
pleasing prospects of his future life were diselo.-xd.
But though considerable light was thrown upon bis
25
destiny, yet on leaving London it was net finally
determined i and this pressed with peculiar weight
upon his spirit, which, susceptible of the slightest
emotion, must have deeply felt in leaving one scene
of action, the uncertainty which as yet partially
veiled from him that which should succeed. Of the
day of his departure he thus writes : — " I anticipa*
ted it with mingled emotions 5 a strong desire to see
my father, mother, brother and sisters, a sensation
of sorrow at parting with my old friends, and the
idea of uncertainty as to my future engagements in
life, equally affected me. Although I had been ab
sent from home but five months, the desire I had
again to see Hertford was very great, nor do 1 sup-
pose I shall often spend more pleasant evenings than
the first one I spent at home, after the first time of
being absent for any considerable season; two or
three days were spent in seeing other relations and
friends, till — ."*
Here the narrative, first referred to, and often
quoted, written by his own hand, and evidently for
his own use, abruptly closes 5 and here for a mo-
ment his biographer will pause. It is a charming
domestic piece, which the hand of his departed
friend, obedient to the warm and vivid recollections
of his fervent mind, has sketched; but scarcely has
he pictured to himself the countenances of that in-
teresting group which gathered around him again to
bid him welcome to his lather's house, and commit-
ted the rude outline to his paper, than he is sudden-
ly called off, and lays down the recording pen for
* M. S. Memoirs
£6
ever ! So did his life abruptly terminate ; but the
mysterious voice that summoned him from his en-
cleared connexions upon earth introduced his eman-
cipated spirit to the bosom of a happier family
above — not another family, but one most intimately
connected with his own, for which whilst here he
cherished such a warm affection. The sentiment
this sentence breathes Mas familiar to himself, and
often seen in the energy and fervour with which he
would repeat these admirable lines of Kelly : —
One family, we dwell in hhn ;
One church above, beneath,
Though now divided by the stream,
The narrow stream of death.
One army of the living God,
To his command we bow ;
t'art of the host have cross'd the floods
And part are crossing now.
*
Ten thousand to their endless home
This awful moment fly ;
And we are to the margin come,
And soon expect to die.
Dear Jesus, be our constant guide ;
Then when the word is giv'n,
Bid death's cold stream and flood divide
And land us safe in lieav'n.
At Harwich Mr. Spencer was completely in his
clement. He commenced the year 1806 in Mr. Hor-
dle's family, and was then about completing the fif-
teenth of his own life. At this interesting age,
when the powers of the mind begin rapidly to un-
fold,— when a tone is often given to the future cas<
27
of thought, and sentiments and habits are imbibed
and formed, which constitute the basis or become the;
germ of the matured and finished character ; — it
was a circumstance peculiarly auspicious in the his-
tory of this lamented youth, that he was introduced
to the pious and enlightened care of such a man as
Mr. Hurdle. In his preaching, in his lectures, and
in his cunversatiun, he saw most admirably applied,
those elementary principles of theological science,
the scholastic forms of which must else have been
unintelligible or insipid to his mind, In the liberal
and sacred current of his habitual thought, Mr.
Spencer would find a safe channel for the yet infant
stream of his own conceptions 5 whilst he would im-
perceptibly form his character upon that mild, cor-
rect, and amiable model, constantly before him.
It must be of incalculable advantage to a young
man destined for the Christian ministry, as it evi-
dently was to our departed Spencer, to pass a 5 ear
or two beneath a faithful and enlightened pastors
roof, — to be a spectator of his toil, — a daily witness
of the varied scenes of duty and of trial which the
Christian ministry perpetually presents. It is true,
that in academies, lectures on the pastoral care are
read, and discourses on the duties of the Christian
ministry delivered ; but one week of actual obser-
vation must impress more deeply on the mind all
that such lectures can contain, and unnumbered oth-
er circumstances, equally important, but which no
general analysis can include, than months or years
of the most devoted study. And to the diligent im-
provement of this peculiar advantage, perhaps, may
in pan he attributed that early maturity at which
23
Mr. Spencer's capacity for the sacred office had ar-
rived, He had the seriousness, the reflection of the
pastor while but a student ; and when he actually
entered on that holy office, the exercises of the pul-
pit, and the habits of his ministerial life, bespoke
the knowledge of long experience, rather than of
recent theory, and indicated the presence of a mas-
ter*$ 9 not a learner's hand.
At Harwich his diligence was exemplary : a ju-
dicious course of reading was marked out for him
by his respected tutor, which he conscientiously and
unweariedly pursued ; but besides this, he had the
use of an excellent library, with rich supplies from
which he amply occupied his leisure hours. He
had made considerable progress in the Latin ; and
soon after his introduction to Mr. Hordle, he com-
menced, under his direction, the study of the Hebrew.
With this sacred language he was particularly
pleased, and soon demonstrated his attachment and
his diligence, by completing, with considerable la-
bour, an abridgment of Parkhurst's Hebrew Lexi-
con. This work he accomplished in a small pocket
manual, which proved of considerable use to him,
and was almost his constant companion.*
Here, too, he first became acquainted with the
principles of Moral Philosophy; and whilst from
the leeturei of Doddridge, and the essays of Locke?
* Of this Manual he made two fair copies, one of which i
in possession of his tutor, and the other is amongst the pa-
pera from which these Memoirs are supplied. The design \»
honourable to his judgment, and the execution to h"'s ■<
verftnee and his accuracy at thut early sge.
£9
his mind derived vigour and energy ; from the study
of the Latin poets, and the classic authors of our
own country, it gained amusement, and his composi-
tions gradually assumed an air of elegance and ease.
But not only in literature and science was his pro-
gress conspicuous during his residence at Harwich ;
hut he also made considerable advances in the
knowledge and experience of divine things. That
in the midst of all his studies, which yet he pursu-
ed with diligence and ardour, religion was the ob-
ject of his chief regard and dearest to his heart, is
evident from the uniform strain of his letters to his
most intimate and beloved friend Mr. Heward, whose
fellow labourer he had been at Mr. Thodey's, and
the privation of whose society he seemed deeply to-
deplore. His views of the Christian ministry be-
came more and more consistent, and the impression
of its vast importance more deep and solemn on his
mind. The intense desire with which he panted for
» hat sacred and honourable office became tempered,
though never checked, by an awe of its vast respon-
sibility, and a consciousness of incapacity for the
full discharge of its numerous and laborious duties.
With Mr. Hordle he would sometimes indulge in
the most free and unreserved converse on the state
of his heart, and his private walk with God. In
such conversations he was always much affected,
and susceptible, from the constitution of his nature,
of the most delicate impressions and the keenest
feelings, it may be well supposed that in religion lie
would deeply feel. Hence the tenderness of his con-
science, and the susceptibility of his mind, would
often overwhelm his bosom with convictions of guilf,
*3
30
and agitate him with unnumbered inward conflict's.
Yet in the midst of all he evidently grew in spiritual
strength — his mind acquired confidence — his prin-
ciples became daily more and more confirmed — and
he had advanced far in a deep and experimental ac-
quaintance with the ways of God at an age when
such advancement is rarely to be found.
Whilst at Harwich he regularly shared with Mr.
H. the pleasing duty of conducting the devotions of
the family, and frequently performed the sacred ser-
vice with an enlargement of heart, a fervour and
propriety of expression truly astonishing. Bat this
was a circumstance he particularly wished should
be concealed ; his modesty and diffidence shrunk
From the observation of men, even of his nearest
friends ; and in one of his letters to his friend* he
writes, " My situation is comfortable, more so than
ever ; I am considered like one of the family ; of
an evening I generally, by Mr. H.'s desire, engage
*n family prayer, he in the morning. tell it to no-
body on any account. When he is out I always do."
To those who knew not the beloved original, the
outlines of whose character these pages but imper-
fectly present, the detail of minute particulars may
be uninteresting and insipid ; but those who were
familiar with him will dwell with pleasure on the
faintest lineament that may be here preserved of a
dear departed friend, so ardently, so deservedly es-
teemed ; whilst a combination of these varied and
retired beauties may form a portrait on which the
«?ye of a stranger may dwell with admiration, and
* Mr. IIcwarcL
31
the mind refieet with profit. It is in confidence of
this that his biographer pauses to record another
and a pleasing trait in his character at this early
age — the peculiar warmth and constancy of his
friendship. He seems, indeed, at this period to
have had but one bosom friend, except those of his
own immediate family ; to him his letters breathe
an affection the most glowing, spiritual, and pure .
and perhaps no little incident more strikingly dis-
plays the tender east of his mind than that which
he himself relates, with great simplicity, in a let-
ter to his friend : —
" This morning we read (Mr. H. and myself) the
second night of Young's Night Thoughts — the very
place that treats of friendship ; I was rather affec-
ted at the reading of it ; and after it was finished,
and we were alone, I told him (Mr. H.) I was no
stranger to Young's sentiments in that place. He
asked me i if I had lost any friends ?' I told him
no — not by death. He asked me * if I had by treach-
ery ?' O no, Sir. * How then ?' Only by separa-
tist .'"
Thus in pleasant and familiar intercourse with
one for whom he mingled veneration with affection,
and of whom he never ceased to speak with all the
rapturous energy of gratitude and filial love — in ex-
ercises and pursuits every way adapted to satisfy
his ardent thirst of knowledge — in scenes and in
society congenial to the tone and bias of his mind
— in conscientious preparation for closer studies and
severer labour, previous to his entrance on that sa-
wed office long the object of his choice — and ia
33
deep communion with himself and God — did be
pass the allotted period of his stay at Harwich.
As the term (a year) fixed for his residence
with Mr. Hordel drew towards its close, his anxi-
ety considerably increased ; he anticipated, with
regret, a departure from scenes and society so much
endeared to him : and the trial through which ha
was to pass previous to his admission into the a-
cademy at Hoxton, when viewed in connexion with
his youth, excited in his mind considerable appre-
hension and dread. But the hope of success never
entirely abandoned him; whilst the pleasing pros-
pect of being again associated with his friend,
who had by this time entered as a student in the
same academy, tended not a little to gladden and
animate his heart.
In November he drew up a statement of his reli-
gious experience, his views of theological truth,
and his reasons for desiring the Christian minis-
try, according to a standing order of the acad-
emy with respect to young men proposing them-
selves as candidates for its patronage. These pa-
pers, written in a style of dignified simplicity,
and disclosing a knowledge and experience of di-
vine things, which in a youth, scarcely sixteen years
of age, must have excited the admiration of all
to whom they were submitted, — were duly pre-
sented to the committee, and passed, though not
without some difficulty, arising from his age; but
the extraordinary qualifications he appeared to
possess, and the strong recommendations of his
friend and tutor, Mr. Hordle, overcame this obsta-
cle, and the 5th of January following was appoint-
38
ed for his personal appearanee before the con-
stituents of that institution, in order to give them
a speeimen of his talents for public speaking.
Mr Spencer left Mr. Hordle's family on the 18th
of December, and spent the interval of time be-
tween his departure from Harwich and the day of his
examination at Hoxton (which was postponed fo the
7th of January) at his fathers house a Hertford.
Whose imagination does not follow this beloved
youth into the bosom of his family again ; who does
not pieture to himself the charming scenes of so-
cial and domestic joy his presence would inspire.
With what tenderness and affection would his ven-
erable father bid him welcome to his paternal home
again ; with what delight would he gaze upon
the animated features of his countenance, smil-
ing in all the ingenuousness of youth ; while with
nobler feelings of delight he marked the unfolding
graces of his mind, saw his improvement in the best
of sciences — religion, and beheld him daily growing
in favour both with God and man. With what
adoring gratitude would they retrace together the
scenes of his childhood, and the many alarming ob-
stacles which once almost forbad the indulgence of
a hope that the object of their ardent wish would
ever be obtained ; and how, in the transport of those
happy hours, would his family anticipate for him
they loved, in the future stages of an honourable
ministry, years of usefulness and comfort. Ah !
pleasing visions never to be realized ! Little did that
interesting group conceive that it was his appointed
lot but just to taste the joys and sorrows of a pas-
tor*! IilV, and then expire. Already they had seen
34
the bud swelling with fulness — teeming with life y
now they beheld the blossom, and admired its beau-
ty ; and they thought long (o gaze upon the prom-
ised charms of t\& unfolded flower ; happy stran-
gers of the melancholy and mysterious fact, that
so soon as it had opened it must be suddenly cut
down and die ! But such and so frail is man —
" In the morning they are like grass that groweth
up, in the evening it i& cat down and ivithereth." —
Psalm xc. 5, 6. Such and so uncertain is human
life — " It is even as a vapour, that appeareth for a
little time, and then vanisheth aivau." — James iv. 14.
At this interesting period of Mr. Spencer's life it
will be perhaps gratifying to the reader to pause,
and gain a more familiar acquaintance with him,
than can be supplied by a narration of events and cir-
cumstances in his history, by perusing some extracts
from his correspondence and other papers, which
will throw much light upon the formation of his
character, and afford a pleasing specimen of his
early genius.
I have now before me a packet of letters addres-
sed to his friend Mr. Ileward, dated at various
periods, from October, 180.1, to December, 1S06.
Though at the commencement of this correspon-
dence he had not attained his 15th year, these let-
lers breathe a spirit of the purest piety, and often
express sentiments by which age would not be dis-
honoured, in a style remarkably correct and vigo-
rous. But the reader shall participate with me in
the pleasure which the perusal of this interesting
correspondence — this simple and unaffected utter-
ance of early piety and friendship, has a Horded rue
No. 1.
Hertford, Oct. 16, 1S05,
i; . — As for the manner in which I
have and do employ my time : my father employ?
me either in writing or in his business, more than I
expected. What leisure time I do have, which is
but little, I employ in reading, writing, and medita-
tion. I hope he will not press npon me that em-
ployment which I dislike, but which however I have
been engaged in.
" Mr. Wilson wrote a letter to my father, the sub*
stance of which is as follows : he informs him that
if it is possible he will get a minister to take me,
in order to see more of my piety and talents ; and
hopes that it will be agreeable for me to be at home
with my father till Christmas.
" These are the circumstances under which I am
now placed. I know 7 it is my duty to be submissive
and resigned to the w ill of God, but this is a lesson
which, like all others, is to be learned at the cross
of Christ: 'tis there alone, my dear friend, we can
study all heavenly graces and duties ."
It is pleasing to observe with what deep serious-
ness of mind he conducted those favourite exercises
in exhortation and in preaching, before referred to,*
and with what humility and even thankfulness he
listened to the animadversions of any who were
disposed to criticise. In another part of the same
tetter he says—
* See page 21.
I
50
I
m I am not without hope, that I shall
praise and adore a Messed God, for the ill opinions
those persons formed of me, who heard me preach
at Mr. T 's. Methiuks I cannot be thankful
enough to you for informing me of it. It has I trust:
made me more watchful and prayerful than before,
that I may be accounted righteous not in the sight
of men, but in the view of a sin-avenging God.
Thus we may see a little of the dealings of Provi-
dence with his children. When he distresses them
in any way he does it for their good. Jill things,
saith the inspired Apostle, work together for good
to them that love God, and are the called according
to his purpose. — Since that evening I have felt a
little more comfort in my own mind n ecting eter-
nal things. God forbid it should be a false peace.
Hope you keep close to a throne of grace in person-
al prayer. 'Tis from thence we are to draw all
our comfort ; 'tis there we cau get a soul-trans-
forming spiritual view of Jesus; 'tis from thence
we get every necessary weapon, wherewith to com-
bat our spiritual enemies.
" So often called away to attend to different
things, like you I cannot say I have written such a
letter as I could wish. If I should be placed un-
der a minister, I think I should have more oppor-
tunity for writing long letters. — However, let us,
whenever an opportunity offers, write to each other.
Such love as ours is not easily quenched. Let u*
then manifest it by writing to each other, so as to
stir up one another to the exercise of every Christian
gr . Still let us keep our eye upon the Lord Jesus
Christ, and be constantly concerned to honor Lik
37
holv name, by a consistent walk and conversation.
Then sliall we meet to part no more, and dwell for-
ever with our Jesus, in upper, better, brighter
worlds.
"The soul that on Jesus has lean'd for repose,
He will not, he cannot, desert to his foes :
That soul tho' all hell should endeavour to shaV
He'll never, no never, no never forsake."
Soon after it was determined that he should so
to Harwich for a twelvemonth, he wrote again to
3iis friend Mr. Iieward, and the following extract
from his letter, shows the humble, grateful, and
devotional habit of his mind : —
No. 2,
Hertford. Nov. 12, 1805.
»• I join with you in savins:, ' how
wonderful are God's ways.' We indeed little
thought that Mr. II. was the person under whom
I should be instructed, when we were at Hoxton,
hearing him preach, or 1, when I breakfasted with
him: at the same time, I cannot forbear adoring
that favour which is shown to me from God : me
who am utterly unworthy of the least of all God r s mer-
cies. Goodness and mercy have hitherto followed
me, and, I doubt not, will through life. May that
goodness which was $o gloriously displayed in the sal-
vation of sinners, and that mercy which has snatch-
ed ^o many brands from tlie burning, be our eonso-
4
88
iatiou all through life-— our joy in death — ami tlife
burden of our song to all eternity,
• r 55
The following observations are worthy of a mueli
older pen, and display a judgment and discretion,
rather unusual in a lad, not yet fifteen years of
age.
No. 3.
November 13.
• ; You informed me in your last, that your
desires for the work of the ministry had not at all
abated. I sincerely wish that they may be ful-
filled, and that you and I may be fellow labour-
ers in the Lord's vineyard. God certainly can do
this for us ; let us pray that he may. You still
appear dubious of your own ability for that impor-
tant work. I would have you consider, that God
works by whom he will work. He has many min-
isters in his church, real sent ministers, who have
not those grea^-gifts that distinguish many of his
servants 5 and not only so, but these men have
often been the means of doing more good than
those of great talents — and what is the reason
of this ? Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in
thy sight, — is all that we must say. And you,
my worthy friend, should also remember, that as
yet, you cannot form any idea of your own abil-
ities. As I have often told you, when 1 lived
with you, I doubt not your abilities, when impror-
q
9
«d by application to study, &e. will be as fit for
tliat employ, (if tlie will of God) as any other.
God, you know, in every thing acts as a sove-
reign : 6 J will work, and who shall let it? is his
lansuaere— will work bv the feeblest means, and
the weakest instruments. I hope you will still
be kept low in your own eyes, for that, I am sure,
is one quality, or rather property, of a gospel
minister. At our best estate we are altogether
vanity, and less than nothing. May the Lord
keep us all truly humble. Luther used to say,
there were three things made a minister — afflic-
tion, meditation, and prayer: that is, sanctified afflic-
tion, scriptural meditation, and earnest prayer ; in
which last particular I hope you are perpetually
engaged. Pray, my dear friend, for direction of
God — pray for grace, which is of more value, by
far, than great gifts, and say in the language of
resignation, hope, and faith — ' Here am 1, Larch
send me to labour in thy vineyard.' You have ap-
pealed to me in saying, 4 You well know, I shall
never rely on my own strength for success and
usefulness.' — I know you will not, (at least whilst
in your present mind) and I pray that God would
keep you still so determined. Let us then pray,
that we may both of us be made able, useful,
and humble ministers of the New Testament.
" I am glad to find, that you gen-
erally hear three times a day. Young men, who
wish to be ministers, canuot hear too much of
the gospel, provided they are anxious to improve
on what they do liear — . ^ ."
40
I shall present the reader with nearly the whole
of the following letter ; and I think, that few will
he found, on the perusal, who deem it unworthy of
preservation. It contains a pleasing grateful (and
the more pleasing as it is entirely uninfluenced) tri-
bute to the memory of departed worth — discloses the
deep attention and care with which its writer was,
at that early age, accustomed to hear and reflect
upon sermons, and shews how incessant and uniform
was the panting of his heart for the Christian mii>
istry.
No. 4.
Hertford, Nov. IS, 1S05.
" MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" I expected to have heard from you before
now, but as I have not, it becomes me to bear the
disappointment with fortitude anil resolution, hoping
that it will not be long before I have a few lines
from you. On Saturday last, I heard that, that
good and worthy man Mr. Winwood was dead. It
will, I doubt not, be a great stroke to the family ;
but I am well assured, that to him death was eternal
nun. Truly, the righteous hath hope in his death.
May you and I both be found at the last day on the
right hand of the Judge with our respected master !
While he is tuning his harp to the praises of a pre-
cious Jesus, we have to combat with many enemies ;
w e have many trials to pass under
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk tihe golden streets !*
* Alas! lamented youth! little did he, or the friend to
•mi he wrote, imagine how few his trials — how sho r
41
We shall, I am persuaded, feel our own depravity
in many instances here below, ere we join with him
in everlasting songs above ; but if we are enlisted
under the banners—the blood-stained banners of the*
cross, we shall certainly arrive there. Let us then
seek, earnestly seek, after the one thing needful ;
and whilst earthly objects vanish and decay in our
estimation ; nay, whilst the world dies daily in our
view, and its perishing things appear in their pro-
per light — may we feel our hearts panting after the
wells of salvation — >our souls, with all their facul-
ties, engaged in the noblest of all undertakings — our
feet running in the good ways of God— our tongues
making mention of his righteousness, and of his on-
ly — in short, may we be crucified to the world-
risen with Christ — and transformed into his divine
image and likeness. This, I trust, I can say is
my desire, and I know it is the earnest wish of
my dear friend.
« Sabbath-day, Nov. 15th, I heard Mr. M- a
at Cowbridge, in the morning, from 1 Thes. v.
S. ' But let us, who are of the day, be sober, put-
ting on the breast-fate of faith and love, and for
an helmet the hope of salvation.' He first shew-
ed what was implied in Christians being of the
day ; secondly, enforced the exhortation of the text,
his warfare should prove — and how soon the pious desire
of his heart should be, as it respected himself, fulfilled :
such and so mysterious are the ways of God — Spencer is
early summoned to his rest, but his companion is left,
still to maintain the conflict, whilst he mourns his loss —
" two men shall be in the field, the one shall be taken and the
other left." — Matthew xxiv. 40.
*4t
12
To-be of the day, he said, implied — 1. a slate if
knowledge; 2. safety; 3. comfort, See. In enforc-
ing the admonition, he exhorted them to the exercise
of faith and love ; gave them good grounds for hope :
and shewed that these three graces had a tendency to
comfort and strengthen believers. In the afternoon,
from x\cts xvii. 30, 31. < The times of this igno-
rance God winked at, but now commundeth all men
every where to repent, because he hath appointed a
day in which he will judge the world in righteousness,
by that man whom he hath ordained, whereof he hath
given assurance unto all men, in that he hath rais-
ed him from the dead P He considered — 1. the cer-
tainty of a future judgment ; 2. the person of the
Judge ; 3. the circumstances of the day ; 4. the ne-
cessity of repentance inferred from the text. He,
indeed, is a worthy man, and appears well suited for
a missionary. In the evening 1 heard Mr. L ,
at the Chapel, from John iii. 14. 6 For as Moses
lifted np the serpent in the wilderness^ &c. He
said many good things, and is very earnest in the
good cause. Last Lord's day we had Mr. M
again; text in the morning, Heb. vi. 11. ' And
we desire, that every one of you do shew the same
diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the
end.' He considered — 1. the thing mentioned — the
full assurance of hope ; 2. shewed that it might be
attained ; 3. exhorted them to diligence in aspiring
after it. Time and room forbid me to make any
remarks upon the sermon (which was a good one)
in the afternoon, from Acts xvi. 9. ' And then
stood a men of Macedonia and prayed him, saying,
cotoe over and help lis,' In discoursing on it,
48
shewed — 1. that the heathens want help ; 2. that it
is the duty of ministers and people to give it them ;
and 3. that men should exert themselves for the
purpose. It appeared like a collection sermon ; and
he" went afterwards and got a little money of a few
friends at Hertford, for the mission to China.
" In the evening, having been previously invited,
I went at six o'clock to Mr. K 's, to see the
minister. I was there during family worship ; and
after that, Mr. M. and self went up stairs to
talk a little together. He asked me about my
learning, &c. then how long I had been seriously
disposed, &c. He appeared satisfied with my an-
swers, and asked me if I was not going into the
country ; I told him * yes.' He asked me if I should
have an opportunity of attending to my books there.
This naturally led to the whole affair : he seemed
glad, and asked me if I designed to be a minister
in this country. I told him I wished to be quite re-
signed to the will of Providence in that matter. He
gave me some good advice ; and then we knelt down,
and he engaged in a short and affectionate prayer.
I was much affected with the advice, conversation,
and prayer.
" I am sensible that your attachment
to me is as unshaken as ever. 1 hope you pray
that both of us may be made ministers of the
gospel ; and, in some future day, have our wish-
es respecting that completely fulfilled. I am ve-
ry desirous that you may be shortly placed in a
situation in which you will have more leisure for
reading, writing, studying, Sec. O that you were
going with me to Harwich, Still continue to pray
for one who feels his own unworthiness for the
service of his God, and yet wishes to be an in-
strument of doing great good to souls : and if I
should not he very successful in my ministry, me-
thinks it would be reward enough to have la-
boured for God, and not to have been employed
in the drudgery of Satan."
The next letter, to the same correspondent, con-
tains a specimen of his talent for the composition
of sermons at that age. It affords a pleasing
proof of his early skill in the practice of an art,
in which he eventually so much excelled.
No. 5.
Hertford, Dec. 3, ±805.
tt , — I have sent you my thoughts upon
(or rather my way of discussing) that text Mr.
Knight preached from. I hope your candour wilt
excuse imperfections. I never read any thing up,
on it, and it is the production of a boy.
Matthew v. 20.
" For I say unto you, that except your righte.
ousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes
and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the
kingdom of heaven."
45
GENERAL HEADS.
1st. — Explain the nature of the righteous-
ness of the Scribes and Pharisees.
2d. — Shew in what respects our righteous-
ness MUST EXCEED THEIRS.
3d. — Notice the consequences of possessing a
RIGHTEOUSNESS NO BETTE.R THAN THEIRS.
1st Head. — Explain the nature, &e.
It was self-righteousness. — Luke xviii. 9.
1st. — This righteousness is founded in ignorance
Of God ? s nature,
Of the spirituality of his law,
Of the deceitfulness of the heart,
And of the true method of salvation.
2d Head. — Shew in what respects our righ-
teousness SHOULD EXCEED THEIRS.
The righteousness here termed * yours' is the
righteousness of Christ, which becomes ours by im-
putation, in the same manner as our sins became
Christ's. This righteousness thus becoming ours,
exceeds the righteousness of the Scribes and Pha-
risees,
1st. — In its origin. It is divine — the other human,
or Satanic ; as we doubt not, Satan first in-
fused self-righteous thoughts into the minds of
men, &c.
2d. — Its nature and particular properties*
This righteousness
4fr
Delivers us from bondage,
Saves us from sin,
Gives us holiness of life,
Makes us victorious in death,
.loyful in judgment, and
Happy through all eternity.
The righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees
cannot do this.
But our Lord might also allude to that righte-
ousness which is implanted in us, as well as that
which is imputed to us, and that far exceeds the
righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees in its
effects, which are real good works, which
Spring from a good motive,
Are directed to a good purpose,
And have a good end.
These works are not meritorious, but serve for
the justification of our faith, not of our persons,
and they far exceed the legal performances of the
self-righteous.
3d Head. — Notice the consequences of pos-
sessing A RIGHTEOUSNESS no better than
THEIRS.
Ye shall in no case enter into, 8fc.
1st. — Here we must necessarily dwell a little up-
on the nature of the kingdom of heaven, — Consider
1. The person of the King.
2. The happiness of the subjects.
3. The eternal duration of his reign, &c.
2d. — How dreadful a thing to be shut out of this
kingdom.
47
3«. — How peculiarly striking is the language of Hie
Saviour — ye shall in no case, Sfc.
Notwithstanding all your professions, long pray-
ers, alms givings, &c. 4 Ye shall in no case enter
into the kingdom of heaven.'
From this subjeet we draw a few inferences.
i.— We may learn from hence, the evil nature of sin.
If all self -righteousness be so bad, what must
unrighteousness be ? a
3. — We here see the only true method of salvation— -
the righteousness of Christ.
3.— How necessary is daily, serious self -examination,
in order to ascertain to which class we belong.
4.— We likewise infer the riecessity of prayer, for
instruction and grace.
5. — How dreadful is the case of the self-righteous
character.
<5.— -The believer may hence draw some comfort. He
is interested in Jesus Christ, and shall outride
all the storms and troubles of life, sing the dear
name of Jesus in the hour of death, and stand
unmoved amidst the jarring elements, « the
wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.'
4i May the God of hope bless us both — fill us with
all joy and peace in believing — enlarge our spiritual
coast — give us to see more and more of the sinful-
ness of our nature — the depravity of our hearts —
the imperfection of our graces — the smallness of
our knowledge — the sufficiency of Jesus — the sta-
bility of our hope — the fulness of Cbrist. May he
give us to see that our names are written in heaven
—may he brighten up our evidences for glor^ —
48
establish our faith — enlarge our desires — and give
us hungerings and thirstings after righteousness.
May we enjoy the blessings of salvation — the sweet-
ness of communion with God — the peace bought and
purchased for us by Christ Jesus — and that joy in
the Holy Ghost, produced by his influences — and
may we learn more and more of the heights, lengths,
depths, and breadths of the love which passeth knowl-
edge. May we dwell together in that happy land,
where none but the righteous can enter, and where
our worship shall be undisturbed.
" And now, my dear brother, I commend you to
the hands of that God who doth all things well,
and who taketh care of those who put their trust
in him ; and hoping soon to hear from you, I sub-
"ribe myself,
" Your truly affectionate friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER.-'
N. B. " Remember me to ', Pray for me.
and may the Lord bless you. Amen/'
No. 6.
Hertford, December 3f, ISO 5.
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
" I think myself very happy in having such
a friend as you prove yourself to be. I know af-
fection towards me is too deeply rooted in you ev-
er to be erased by separation. Life's greatest bles-
sing is a well chosen friend,, and I do feel it so.
You cannot imagine (only by your own feelings)
what pleasure I take iu recoilectiug past scenes,
49
Slid recalling to the mind occurrences relating on-
ly to us, which never shall be forgotten. I hope
we have the same 'friend that sticketh closer than
a brother.' I am affected, peculiarly affected, when
I read the solemn confessions you make of de-
pravity, &c. You know Paul acknowledged him-
self the chief of sinners. When, therefore, you are.
slowed down under a sense of sin, look unto Jesus,
there only salvation is to be found for those who,
like you, are sensible of siu. But 1 verily believe
my friend has already been washed in the fountain
of his blood. Yes, I doubt not but you have passed
from death . unto life, and are called according to
God's eternal purpose 5 therefore, instead of Avri-
ling bitter things against yourself, rejoice in Christ
Jesus whilst you have no confidence in the flesh.—.
Ah ! my friend, you know not fully how I have lift-
ed up my puny arm in rebellion against God ; so
that I cannot think myself a whit behind the chief
of sinners. Young as lam, I am, a great sinner;
but blessed be God who has, I hope, given us both a
good hope through grace : to him be all the glorr,
" I shall, I expect, be iu town a day sooner than
was intended, viz. Wednesday the 8th ; my father
will not come till the next day. Mr. F— , in
his letter, mentions a desire that I would give them
a lecture fin the old way) at his house in the even-
ing. I am very willing to do it, and I hope we shall
have your company."
so
No. r.
Hertford, January 3, isoo
>•' MY CEARLbT FRIEND,
"With the greatest pleasure I received and
read your kind but short letters but I must not
speak about its shortness, as mine must be as short, if
not shorter, as I expect S to come for it di-
rectly. — Mr. Davies's Sermon entitled, * The Mid-
night Hour,' I understand, is printed. How glad I
should have been to have heard it. I hope when I
am in town you will remember your promise, and
not forget the greatest part of the sermon, as you
know how I respect (and like the preaching of) that
worthy man.' 1 I hope you will have a pleasant
and profitable day next Sabbath at Finchley. I am
afraid you cannot get out next Thursday, the
ilay Nelson is buried ; for I do assure you that your
presence at any place in town would afford me more
pleasure than the sight of his funeral, to which
I do not intend to go. 1 have been with Samuel a
jittle about Herlford. I have read what I wanted in
Washington's Life,' or rather his History of Ameri-
can Wars, as I do not see so much of Washington
in it as I expected. I cannot add more \ but remain
your very affectionate friend,
« THOMAS SPENCER"
* The J.U-v. t)fx. Davie*, of Queen-Street, Chcapsidc, Lew-
t,.
51
His next letter is from Harwich, ami contains
a pleasing disclosure of the state of his mind on
the accomplishment, so far, of his ardent wished.
No. 8,
[UaVicich, February 6, ISOt r,
V MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" I with pleasure embrace the opportunity
which now offers itself of writing you a few lines
for the first time sin<*c I have been here. While I
hope you enjoy your health, I can say I never was
better in my life than I have been since I have
been at Harwich. The air is very cold and heal-
thy : I am sure I have felt the difference. In the
town there are many inhabitants, and a Methodist
place besides Mr. Hordle's : by Methodists, I mean
Wesley's people. Mr. Hordle preaches three times
on a Sabbath day, and is very well attended, and
on Wednesday evenings ; prayer meeting on Mon-
day night. I doubt not but you will join with me
in returning thanks to the all-wise Disposer of events
for placing me in that comfortable situation which
I now fill. I live with Mr. H. entirely; his study
is where I pursue my learning, and in an afternoon
I meet his boys (there are only nine) at his vestry,
to say a lesson or two with them. I learn Latin,
Geography, and have got a considerable way in Dod-
dridge's Lectures on Pneumatology, in which now
and then I meet with a 'philosophical subject; in-
.!, my dear friend, I really am very comfortable.
52
01 that my improvement may Icetp pace with, the
advantages I enjoy.
"But, my dearest friend, what a separation be-
tween us. I often think of you when in this study
pursuing my learning ; think ! did I say ? I can-
not help thinking of you, and I will cherish ev-
ery tender thought of a friend I. so much love.
Ofttimes I think that of an evening, when we are
surrounding the family altar, you are engaged ii*
ihe busy concerns of life— -whilst I am enjoying
the advantages of a kind teacher, a good library*
and various other blessings, you are behind the
counter of a glove shop. Yet do not despair. I
hope we shall some future day enjoy one another's
company, and these advantages connected with it.
When I walk out, as I in general do every day
for exercise, I imagine you to be here-; — I converse
with you — 1 see you — and fancy many other enjoy-
ments, which perhaps will not come so soon.
When I last saw you I was exceedingly vexed that
we could not have half an hour together in private 5
but, however, I know you regard me still — and am
sure I love you much 5 and it is some pleasure to
think that we can yet pray for one another. O do
not forget me, unworthy as I am, in your approaches
to the throne of grace. Pray that I may not abuse
my privileges ; but that whilst I am here it may
be manifest that 1 am possessed of a principle of
divine grace in my heart. But 1 hope I need not,
mention this to you, for you do, I trust, still remem-
ber me in your best moments. 1 have not forgot
the pleasure I experienced the last time I saw yon
in London, nor the affectionate manner in which
33
tou conversed with me from Mr. F "s to niy
cousin's the last evening.
" I had a very tedious journey here, as I could
not sleep all night in the coach. But I think I am
well repaid. I did not imagine that I should be
treated with such care % I have a nice little bed to
myself; and, in short, am surrounded with blessings.
I take some pleasure in contrasting my present situ-
ation with what it was when at Mr. Thodey's ; but
after I have considered the peculiar advantages of
this to that, I find that there was one pleasure 1
enjoyed there which I do not here — that of your
company and conversation ; and thus is life made
up of hopes and fears, pleasures and pains. May
we be among those who are strangers awl sojourn-
ers here, who seek a better country.
" The evening I generally employ in promiscu-
ous reading, as the time is then as it were my
own. As I come home from the vestry about an
hour before, the other boys, from that time till tea
I am engaged in secret meditation, reading God's
word, and prayer to him. Ah ! Thomas, you are
then more on my mind than during the other parts
of the day, for I cannot but remember how often?
you have pressed on me the duty of private prayer ;
and indeed, my friend, you are then most remem-
bered by me in the best sense. I do continue to
pray for you ; and I hope God will hear our peti-
tions for one another, and send us answers of peace.
I beg of you, I entreat you to be earnest in sup-
plication for me, that if God has appointed me for
Ihe work of the ministry, I may be fitted for it,
*5
0$
and have a divine blessing attending me in all I un-
dertake.
u Mr. H. bids me write now and then the heads
of a sermon of my own, and shew it him. I have
yet only done one : it met his approbation.
u Be so kind as remember me to Mr. F , &<
&g. — I suppose you like your business as little a*>
ever; but 1 hope you will soon be put in a situation
where you will enjoy yourself more — I mean in the
best enjoyments. I still hope that we. formed for
each other's comfort, shall yet be made blessings to
each other, and that in a particular way. Then let
the conceited, covetous worldling say, 'Friendship
is but a name'' — we know it is something more — it
is a great Messing 5 and where the friends have
grace in their hearts, it is so eminently and espe-
ciallv. David and Jonathan found it so. I often
w
think of your noticing particularly that expression,
their souls icere knit together. Dr. Young thought
so when he said, i poor is the friendless master of
a world.' I am thankful that I have had such a
friend cast in my way that will be, I trust, a bles-
sing to me all through life, and that will dwell with
me in a better world. May the hope of that hap-
piness stimulate us to more resignation to the di-
vine will, and holy disdain of the vanities of time
and sense.
" And now, my dear friend, my letter draws to
a close ; 1 can scarcely forbear tears while I write
it. I hope you will overlook its very visible im-
perfections, and remember that it comes from one
that loves you. — Need I again beseech you to pray
for me, that I may find mercy of the Lord, be bles*
53
sed with every blessing here below, and crowned
with glory hereafter.
64 Write me what religious intelligence yon know
I am ignorant of: I see the Magazine here and
other periodical works. And now I desire to
commit myself, my dear friend, and all onr concerns,
into the hands of a covenant God ; and wishing
yon every blessing, I rest your ever faithful and
affectionate friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER/'
No. 9.
Harwich, February 24, 1806.
- MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" More than a fortnight ago, according to
agreement, I wrote to you ; as I have not heard
from you since that time, my mind is full of anxiety
ob that account, as I know not what to assign as a
reason for it. I hope you received it, for I should
never like our correspondence to be investigated by
any body but ourselves. I hardly know how to write
this letter; whether I should inform you of cir-
cumstances I mentioned in my last, (being in doubt
whether you received it) or, taking for granted that
you have had it, shall I tenderly chide you for not
answering it. I cannot think you have either for-
gotten me, or are grown careless about me, and
yet what can I say ! / am full of conjectures.
Have you been so busy as not to have time to write $
or have you written-, put it in the post, and the
56
letter miscarried? I hope you will write to me,
and inform me which of these is the real case.
'Need I tell you again that I am peculiarly com-
fortable in my situation, having nothing to render
me otherwise but the absence of my friend, and my
not having heard from him ; nor from home either ;
for I wrote to my father, and I have not yet receiv-
ed an answer, which I expected immediately; in-
deed I cannot at all account for these things.-
" As Mr. Hordle was a student at Roxton, I have
learnt a few things respecting the nature of the
place, which perhaps you will like to know, for
who can tell but some future day you may take the
second, third, and last step towards being connec-
ted with them. You told me you had taken the first
some time ago. But to drop thrs. The students,
then, find themselves candles for their oivn studies,
soap, towels, tea, and they have one gown to study
in, &c. they have family prayer altogether morning
and evening : you know what they learn. I am very
fond of Mr. H.'s preaehing : we had three very fine
sermons yesterday, on Exod. xxxiii. 16; 1 Cor. iv.
5 ; Eph. ii. 8. I have just begun to enter the heads
ef the sermons in a book, and I am sure he is like
a father to me ; I am indeed very well treated. I
hope you are earnest in prayer, that God would let
you know his will concerning you. O, my friend,
I should think myself very happy if I could do any
thing for you. Although I do not speak to you now,
nor see you, nor hear from you, yet I do feel pleas-
ure in praying for you. I never was better in my
|ife than since I have been at Harwich. A day
w two ago I began to learn Hebrew. I ofteo
57
think yoH would be in your element in this study,
with the advantages of learning, &c. I begin now
to have a little idea of Geography ; know more Lat-
in than before, and Study every day Locke's Con-
duct of the Understanding, and Doddridge's Lec-
tures; besides a deal of cursory reading, &c. for
here is a very nice library, to which I have free ac-
cess. I told you in my last to let me have Mr.
E 's address. Hope you will remember me to
all our friends. Give my respects to Mr. J. F
and T. E . As I do not remember any thing
else that I have to say, I conclude with subscribing
myself, yours, by all the tender ties of friendship,
<« THOMAS SPENCER.' 3
No. 10.
Harwich, April 4, 1806.
" MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" I received, with the greatest pleasure, your
letter of the 29th of February, together with my
father's; and, as I was sorry you did not write tome
before, so was I equally grieved at the cause : I
sympathize with you in your afflictions, and hope
that you are now quite recovered and — the rest of
the family. I believe you when you say it affords
you so much pleasure to hear of my welfare. O !
TJiomas, pray for me that my very comforts do not
become snares. I should like to have had more of
the heads, texts, &e. of the sermons you have heard
in London ; and hope that you find the ministry of
Mr. K and those you hear at Hoxton ben
fieial to your soul ; for it is my earnest desire the.
t
3$
under the influences of the sacred Spirit, your sogt
may be like a well-watered garden. I (of course)
hear Mr. H. three times on the Sabbath dav, and I
think I can say it has been to my profit : his ser-
mons are indeed very judicious, experimental and
practical, and I find it to be just the preaching I
want. I keep a book, in which I put down the
heads of most of his sermons, which, when it is full,
I intend (if you would like) that you shall see. I
suppose of an evening we have not less than four
hundred and fifty people ; in the day time not quite
so many. There is a band of singers in the table-
pew, generally a bass viol is played, and Mr. H.
preaches in a gown, and I think the people are more
attentive than any I ever saw. Once in a fortnight
Mr. H. preaches at the Work-house : I have bee*
twice, and I like it very much. In the week day I
go to the Methodist chapel, and sometimes hear a
good sermon there. I find by the Magazine that
Mr. S is at Spa-fields chapel. I have spoken
often about him to you, and have mentioned him in
my letters (though by the bye I spelt his name wrong.)
He is a Cheshunt student — has preached very fre-
quently at Hertford ehapcL I would advise you,
if convenient, to go and hear him, for he is a very
hold and very faithful preacher. If you do, give me
a little account of the sermon, &c. If I were you, I
would try to hear Mr. B 's missionary sermon.
" I am very glad that you informed me of Mr. F. ? s
and Mr. \Ws conversation. I liked it all very well,
except that about my preaching, and indeed I had
njuch rather that Mr. F. had not mentioned that for
59
Various reasons. It you have heard any more, pray
tell it me.
6 He must not he put too forward/
" But you have raised my curiosity very much
about the certain minister, who has, unsolicitedly ?
offered you his recommendation for Hoxton. But
•\vhy this reservedness ? I shall expect a friendly,
satisfactory reason for your not telling me his name,
&e. Do you think that I would abuse your confi-
dence ? I hope not, — I think I should know better.
As the month is expired, you must tell me in your
next more about it, as -whether you have seen this
certain minister ? what he said to you ? &e. &c. I
liope I have obeyed your request, and prayed for
you 5 may God grant us both more of a praying spi-
rit, and may he answer our petitions, one for another.
I thank you for Mr. E.*s address. I have not yet
wrote to him — must — though, Thomas, I think now
I should be completely unhappy, ^?ere I again to
have any thing to do with business, and I feel for
you, as you say your time is wholly taken up in it
every day from six in the morning to eleven at night.
I hope that while your aversion to the cares of the
world increases, your spiritual affections are more
animated, and your whole soul, from day to day,
transformed more into the likeness of our lovely
Jesus.
6 The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man
availeth much.' — You seem peculiarly pleased with
ihis passage, observe therefore,
4 st.— That it is the righteous God regards ; — those
who are redeemed by tho Son's blood : — loved
CO
by the Father's grace; — sanctified by the Spirit's
influence. — Those who are weaned from the
vanities of earth and time, — whose affections are
set on things above; — in a word, who are born of
God, and bound for heaven.
2d. — That they must pray. — Prayer is the breath of
the new-born soul, a believer cannot live with-
out it, for
1 Prayer makes the darken'd cloud withdraw :
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw ;
Gives exercise to faith and love,
And brings down blessings from above,' Xewtox
3d. — They must pray fervently. i Cold prayers,*
saith one, ' do but beg a denial.' In vain wcr
offer up lifeless devotion to a heart-searching
and rein-trying God.
Mh. — These prayers are effectual, and avail much ;
they avail much in the sanctifying of our souls,
iind forming Christ there.
" Pardon this digression, as these thoughts have
just sprung from my own mind.
" I hope you continue to enjoy your Sabbaths
more than ever? How delightful it is 'to dwell in
the house offtie Lord all the days of our life, to behold
the beauty of the Lord, and inquire in his temple. —
That was Mr. H.'s text last Sabbath day morning
and. afternoon. In the morning he applied it to the
church here below ; showed what was meant by be-
holding the beauty of the Lord, and inquiring in his
temple, and how desirable it was, &c. In the after-
noon, he applied all (with the greatest propriety) to
heaven. Two vcrv excellent sermons.
M
"Ieanuot yet give up the thought that we shall soon
live together again ; if we are to be so favoured,
how thankful should I be; if not, we must learn to
know no will hut God's, and acknowledge that the
Judge of all the earth will do right. As yet let us
not despair, but commit all our concerns into the
hands of our covenant God and heavenly Father.
We know he will do all things well. My situation
is as comfortable, or more so than ever, and I am
considered like one of the family. We have a nice
house, and here are only Mr. H. Mrs. H. the little
child ahout eight months old — a sweet habe he is,
— the servant and myself. I read Virgil in Latin
now, and what I do learn of any thing serves to
show me more of my ignorance. May the Lord
keep me humble. I have theological questions to
study, such as,
6 Wherein appears the possibility of a divine
revelation ?
* Why is it desirable ? 5 &e.
ii I may consult books upon the subject, and here is
.a very good library. You will not forget your prom*
ise to write in your next about grace thriving in
your heart. As for me it is with tardy steos t
ereep, sometimes joying, and sometimes sorrowing.
And yet without boasting, I think I can say I have
known more of heart religion since I have been here
than before ; but it is very little altogether. I have
experienced many happy moments in secret, such
times as remind me of our last Sabbath afternoon to-
gether. But O ! what a deal of pride, rebellion, care-
lessness, and all kinds of wickedness is there in my
'heart 5 1 tremble to 'think of what I deserve for my
6
62
former levity, &c. — But O pray for me that I may
find grace in the eyes of the Lord, and live to some
purpose in the world. 1 am afraid that there are
vet improper motives in my desiring the work of the
ministry. Since I have been here I have seen some
little of its nature, &c. I am sensible that no learn-
ing, or human qualifications are enough to fit me
for that all-important work ; and I hope, that God
will pour down showers of grace on me, instead
of what I deserve, * vials of wrath.' When you
give me a little account of your M growth in grace,"
and how the lamp of religion keeps alive, I hope
vou will retrace some of the paths in which the
Lord your God has led you, and tell me something
of your former experience, present enjoyments, and
future hope. If yon wish to go on from one de-
gree of grace unto another, which I do not doubt,
commune much with your own heart, read the
Bible as much as possible, and above ail things
pray fervently. — I am perfectly well in health, as I
hone you are. Mv father told me in his letter that
>j r . M is still at ■ , and that the chapel was
still continued. I should like to have all the num-
bers of the Youth's Magazine (but September and
October last, those I have) if I could have them
sent conveniently; and it is not worth while to
d by the coach, for you know the carriage will
be more than the books are worth. Wishing you
every spiritual blessing, I remain your affectionate
and faithful friend.
« THOMAS SPENCER."
68
No. 11.
Harwich, May 9, t
a
?.IY BEAR FRIEND,
"I received your two last letters with great
pleasure. It is highly gratifying to me to discover a
great, and I believe a growing attachment in you
towards your friend, notwithstanding he is so far from
you. In your letter of the 7th April you say yon
rather expected a gentle reproof from me for your
net writing to me ; if so, what ought I to expect from
vou ? But knowing Hie kindness of vour heart, I
forbear any more upon that subject. I was glad
to hear of your comfortable interview with your
friends at Co^^eshalK and like your method well of
consulting with your father on these occasions.
Let us always manifest an obedient and dutiful re-
a)
gard to the advice of our parents ; they, you know,
are older than we, and more experienced ; and the
light of nature, as well as that of divine revelation,
enjoins us to love, reverence, and obey them. I
should not have expected that would have
acted so generously and friendly, as it appears he
has done. I think from these circumstances there
appears (something like) the kind hand of Provi-
dence, and I hope it will appear so to your satisfac-
tion by and bye. I wait with anxiety the result of
your intended interview with the Rev. , of
Chelmsford, and I need not tell you to make it
a matter of prayer ; you know full well the im-
oftancp, necessity, and power, of the prayer of
faith. Your eo.iwin Ford should remember that if
64
the turnpike road is got too bad for people to walk
Comfortably in, the fields are mere pleasant, as well
as much nearer. How different are tlie views of good
people, even in the most trifling tilings. When we
get to heaven, there will he an end of all differences
in sentiment and disposition. JSui I would not have
you imagine that I (now) prefer Hoxton only on
the account of its pleasantness, and the orthodox
views of its supporters; hut I Would •wish myself,
and would have you follow, ihe leading? of Prov-
idence in this as well as every other respect : if
it appears the Divine Will for you to go to Hom-
erton, by all means go ; hut if not, you of course
will not. However, you may he sure of one thing,
and that is, that your friend will love you none
the less for your preference of Homerton. Bnt
I do think that Hoxton will be the place for you. Jn
your letter you have the remarkable words, 'respect-
ing my intended subject, I do not remember that I
promised an account of my own experience as to
growth in grace.' Now perhaps you did not mean
<o in the letter referred to, but I understood it so.
Your words were, ' I had a great deal to write of,
Jf mean the best things, as, how grace thrives in
the heart, &c. which! hope to question and writ**
of in my next.' Now here by the word question 1
of course thought you meant me, by writing of it.
some account of yourself, But it appears it was
not so : and now 1 confess if it was not so design-
ed, T do not know your meaning. I have been
particular in stating this, in order to prevent mis-
takes. 1 hope with you that in your present sit-
uation you are learning lessons that will bo '•■
6'3
Gticial to you all through life. I hope you will see
more and more of the vanity of the pursuits of
time and sense, and be more and more separated
form a world lying in wickedness, as that is a
good evidence of having found grace in the sight
of the Lord. I perceive by your expressions that
you are fired with zeal. I hope it is according
to knowledge, and that you are not venturing upon
what you may repent of in some future day. To
say my own thoughts, I do not think you are in-
fluenced by any wrong motives. I am pleased with
your self-dedication to God \ and I heartily wish,
that he may hear all your prayers, bless you with
an increase of grace and gifts, if he think fit ; but
lie that has the most grace makes the best minis-
ter, and will rise to glory, honour and immortality,
at last, and shall shine as the stars in the fir-
mament, and be forever blest; whilst the ungod-
ly minister (O awful thought !) shall have his por-
tion with hypocrites and unbelievers, shall be ban-
ished from the presence of the Lord, and be cast
into outer darkness, the smoke of his torments
ascending ud forever aud ever. I wfaiv you could
see Brown's Address to his Students in Divinity,
which is prefixed to his View of Religion (an ex-
cellent body of divinity.) You would there see some-
thing of the import of being a minister of the
gospel. O ! my friend, it made me exclaim, ' who
is sufficient for these things V
" There is certainly a great pleasure in receiving
letters, and writing to each other ; you and I ex-
perience this, don't we ? Indeed you dwell much ois
my mind. I think if we were to see each other
*6
66
again, and have a little good conversation, it would
belike ' cold water to a thirsty soul?' it would re-
fresh us, call again into more lively exercise our
warm sensations of affection. What a blessiug it
is, 1 often think, that we ever met together. 1 am
very glad that I ever lived at Mr. Thodey's; I there
met with a worthy friend when 1 had none, learned
a few lessons I was ignorant of, and was introdu-
ced (in some measure by being there) to Mr. Wilson.
Now it is true we are far from each other, but what
then r You are pleased, I know, at my little im-
provement in knowledge ; and you, I hope, are
about entering upon the ministerial office : and
when I think of that, 1 also am highly pleased. A
few weeks more, and something will be done for
vou. I have often told vou, both in conversation
and correspondence, not to be discouraged at a view
of your own insufficiency, and you know God has
chosen the foolish things to confound the wise, and
he works by means that prove his sovereign hand.
But I must hint that your low views of yourself
will do you no harm. Go on to despise the world
and all fix? enchanting allurements it holds out.
and be vigilant, for the adversary of whom you
speak is never idle. How does he tempt us to think
lightly of religion — to foolish and anedifijing cm-
rnsation — ;o offer up short, cold, and careless pray-
ers, and I know not what beside. Pray, then, that
while Satan is attempting to damp, nay quench the
rising flame, the Holy Spirit may pour in plentifully
the oil of grace, and cause it to rise to all eternity.
You, 1 hope, do not intend to flatter me (far
friends should never flatter, and 1 hate it) when
67
von say, you think I ain fitting for some aciive e'lti-*
vated sphere in the cause of Christ. Ah ! Thomas,
you do not see how unworthy I am to he a door«
keeper in the house of my God, as 1 do, much less
fill some elevated station. AmJ indeed did I possess
the wisdom of Solomon, the learning of Paul, and
the eloquence of Apollos, without their piety what
am I ? — ' Like sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.'
I feel my need of divine grace, without which I am
less than nothing, and can do nothing "What a
dreadful thing must it he to have our parents?
teachers, seminaries, gifts, examples, our Bibles,
books, instructions, vows and resolutions, prayers
and sermons, all rise up in judgment against us !
The thoughts of it are enough to make our blood
run cold. May the glorious and gracious God for-
bid such a doom for Jesus Christ's sake. To this I
know you will say 6 Amen.' On the other hand,
how glorious must be the lot of the faithful sent
minister of the gospel : methinks I see him rising
(at the judgment day) from the long sleep of death,,
with a smile of holy pleasure on his sacred counte-
nance, and heavenly glory in his soul. I see him
approach the tribunal of his reconciled Judge, and
having the pardon of all his sins made manifest be-
fore an assembled world, with a goodly number of
seals to his ministry, he exclaims in the language of
holy gratitude, peace, and triumph, 6 Here am I,
Father, and the children thou hast given meP O
may such blessedness be yours and mine; this will
ten thousand times more than compensate for the
troubles and trials met with in the ministry. Amen,
*,aith your longing soul.
68
« Saturday, May 10. — With respect to the work
af grace oil my own heart, I feel shy to say much
about it, fearing that after all my profession I
should heeome a cast-away, and the root of the mat-
ter not be in me. I feel such a lifeless frame of
mind, such coldness in prayer, in short, I indeed
think that I have more evidences of reigning sin
than of the life of religion. I wish to i read my
title clear to mansions in the skies.' 1 wish to be
more Christ-like, more heavenly and spiritual ; but
I can only say with David, « My soul lies cleaving
to the dust, quicken thou me according to thy word.'
I would fain believe, my God help and subdue my
unbelief. I dare not say any thing, but hope and
trust at present, nay hardly that, for I often feel
such a gloom upon my mind that you cannot con-
ceive of. I think it is w rong to give w ay to it, and
I fear if I did I should become quite melancholy.
One reason is, that I want my friend, and feel his
loss. If you were here, how could we relax our
minds from study by a pleasant walk and agreeable
conversation. When I walk out (if Mr. Hordle is
not with me) there is no person whose company I
much value. Sometimes one of the boys that Mr.
Hordle teaches is with me ; but I believe he had
rather be at play than conversing about any thing
that would do him good ; and really I have walked
so much alone lately that it gets quite insipid.
When 1 first came, I enjoyed my solitary walks
much better than 1 do now — what is the reason? I
cannot tell : it is, however, one great comfort that
\ am so well provided for. Mr. and Mrs. H. had
an only child, but eight months old, I think the
69
most beautiful and lovely boy I ever saw : his smiles
had often filled our hearts with joy, and the open-
ings of his infant mind were delightful as the blos-
soms in spring. Though so young, he knew very
well I loved him, and I know he was very fond of
me — so pleased on my return after I had been out,
and so very sensible for a child of his age. When
I wrote you last he lav very ill, and I believe died
the day after. His death grieved me very much,
and I could not study for some time 5 but it is a com-
fort to reflect that he is now present with the Lord,
nnd forever blest. But what a trial to lose him !
1 felt inueh for his parents, who doated on him;
and I confess I never loved a child as I did him.—
I think if we were to live together again, how hap-
py we should be : I mean where we could pursue
our studies together. If vou are at Hoxton when I
am, I hope we shall be in the same class. I should
like you to go in just before me, or when I do, that
so I might not be quite a stranger in the house, and
have no one there that I know, for that would be
verv uncomfortable. You and I used to interest our-
selves verv much in the case of the highwayman
that broke out of Hertford jail, and passed for a
serious man. My father informs me, that he has
been taken in his old course*, and hung a little
while ago at Lancaster, an awful instance of hypoc-
risy and deceit. I read in a newspaper, that he
gave a paper there to the church minister, in which
he said, that he had broke open fifty houses, stole
thirtv horses, and committed more highway robberies
than his memory could recollect. With respect to
joining a church. 1 think it is your duty, as vou
70
therein give yourself up to God in solemn dedica-
tion — make a more open profession of his gospel,
and declare yourself on the Lord's side. Join that
church, (be which it will) where you enjoy much
under the ministry, where you have often received
spiritual nourishment for your immortal soul. I
think you will do wrong if you do not join God's
people in that manner, for it is an incumbent duty.
Your going to Hoxton would not make any differ-
ence, for the students there sit down at the differ-
cnt places in London — some at Hoxton chapel-
some at Mr. Brooksbank's — some at Mr. Clayton's,
and in short wherever they have been members be-
fore, or where the minister admits them as occa-
sional communicants. For myself, 1 cannot yet think
of doing it. I am glad you are reading Halybur-
ton'a life, and hope you will find it profitable. I
hardly know what to do about the Youth's Magazine
— carriage is too dear; however, I think you had
better send them with your next letter; all, you
know, except September and October last, which I
have.
" Questions lately studied. — « What perfections
dwell in God, and how do you prove them to be in
him without referring to the scriptures ?'
" « How do you prove that the scriptures are
the word of God ?'
" ' How do we know that the scriptures have
been faithfully conveyed to us, and not corrupted r
" I have not heard any thing of Samuel for
these two letters; hope he is well. Make my best
respects to him. And now, commending you to our
,'iorious Saviour, and hoping that one day it will ap-
71
pear more particularly, that we were designed for
great blessings to each other, I remain,
<; Your affectionate and faithful friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
No. 12.
Harwich, June 14, 1S06.
* ; MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" I received your parcel the morning after
you sent it, and read your letter with the greatest
pleasure. You judge rightly when you say, you sup-
pose that I was anxiously waiting to hear from you.
The providential dealings of God with you have (I
hope) filled me with wonder and praise. Surely
both of us have great reason to say, ' Bless the Lord,
O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy
name.' Let us not forget any of his benefits, but for
these displays of his goodness, dedicate our bodies
and souls to his glory, which is only our reasonable
service. Let us both rejoice, that God has put this
his treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of
the power may be of God, and not of man. Little did
you expect a few years ago, that you should be pro-
videntially called into the work of the ministry ; but
now you can rejoice, that unto you, who, in your own
view, are less than the least of all the saints, is this
grace given, that you might preach among poor sin-
ners the unsearchable riches of Christ. Observe
now the dealings of Providence in this circumstance.
You are in a waiting frame, and when so God ap-
ars to grant you the desire of your heart. He ha?
7&
now made your path clear before you, and as to its
being the call of God, I have not the least doubt ;
hut, however, I hope you will recollect, that though
your way has been thus shewn to you, it may not
always be so ; difficulties, great and many, may
await us both in our journey through life ; but God
has said, when thou passest through the waters, I
will be with thee, and will prevent the floods from
overflowing thee. Having such promises as these,
my dear friend, let us press forward, and with holy
resignation say, 6 Where he appoints I'll go and
dwell.' 'Tis true, we know not what a day may
bring forth ; but this we know, that God will never
forsake those who put their trust in him, but will be
their sun to illumine them, their shield to defend
them, and their God eternally to bless them. I do
not at all wonder at your being perplexed in your
mind about mentioning matters to . Had I boen
in your state, I should have dreaded it ; but you did
well in making it a matter of prayer before God, and
God was very gracious in ordering it as he has done.
You know that prayer to God is the best way of
making things sure — so you, I ivust, have found it.
I should like to know the other circumstances at
which you hint, but I dare say they are too tedious
to mention ; perhaps we may see each other soon,
when conversation will settle it. I am much pleas-
ed, nay delighted, with the conversation you had with
Mr. W. He is, I doubt not, a warm friend to the
cause of Christ, and does all he possibly can to for-
ward it in the world. J am like him in regard to
zealous and earnest preachers, and like to see ani-
mation and life in a pulpit, aud where the preacher'*
4 O
uimd is fettered with nates there can he none. Yoa
know I thought, when T lived with you, that
and were good sort of men ; they would not do
any harm, hut wanted to see something of their
growing usefulness. I don't doubt, but I shall soon
have a letter from you, dated Hoxton Academy, &e.
and I wish we may be there together, for it will be
very awkward for you or me at first to go there when
there is nobody we know. I wish we might he in
the same class, &e. so that we might he helpers one
to another, and shew that we are the servants of the
living God. I know that Mr. IT. writes to Mr. W.
-ibout me. I know I am, as Mr. W. says, young
and inexperienced : but I want divine grace, &c. to
strengthen me for every duty, and prepare me for
vxery duty. But, however, I don ? t think that Mr.
T. knows any thing about the time when I shall be
admitted. Though I did not mention it in my last,
yet I do not think Mr. 's is a proper church for
you to join as a student: when considered as a Chris-
tian, merely, it would do very well, but as now vou
-are to consider yourself as about entering the work
of the ministry, it alters the case. I never heard
Mr. , therefore know r nothing of him, or his
church ; but Mr. B I have heard more than
once or twice : aud if I were to recommend anv
church that I know in London as proper for you to
join, it should be his. I have often thought that I '
should like to sit under him myself. Concerning
§r religious experience — doctrinal sentiments — and
muusterial motives* — I should rather think that your
; deferring 1 to that summary of his views on these points,
bich, as a candidate for admission into Hoxton Academy,
n
own plan, however simple, would be mich better
than any I can prescribe : but as you know most of
ray tenets pretty well, I do not know that I shall
now write a confessiou, but will here give you a few
directions only, which, if you like, you can adopt,
hut if not, discard them totally. Jn your religious
experience, I would observe the order of time, state
when you first received serious impressions, how
they were fastened on your in hid, what eifeet they
had on your conduct, &e. in your own way. In your
doctrinal sentiments^ begin with the object of wor-
ship — God. State your views of the persons in the
Godhead, quote scripture to prove your ideas of the
Trinity. Then about man, his creation, fall, ruin,
recovery, and so on. Be particular in saying there
is~ no salvation but in Christ. Speak your opinion
of the influences of the Spirit, the efficacy of divine
grace in the conversion of sinners. The dealings of
God with his people. The doctrines of election,
perseverance, &c. Then that you think, (if you do)
that it is the duty of all men to believe the gospel
(1 believe it.) That God will soon judge the world.
That sinners will be sent to hell, and saints taken to
heaven and t'lory. &c. &c. I have read Mr. H- ? s
piece against C. and I by no means approve of it.
He evidently has written on a subject for which he
is by no means capable; for he does not at all un-
derstand the difference between natural and moral
inability — on which my mind has lately been much
employed, and about which Mr. H. and 1 have con-
versed. There have been two pieces about it in some
his friend was about to present to the committee of t!v '
institution.
13
3? the las'! number* of the Evangelical Magazine,
Now, natural or physical inability is such as a man
feels who, we'll suppose, is quite blind, when another
tells him to open his eyes. Now (his is naturally
impossible. Moral inability is such as a man feels
if he is told, for instance, to come to Harwich. He
says, I am very busy, and indeed I can't come : now
we know he might come if he ivould. He has power
to walk to the coach, &c. but his cannot is his ivill
not. Now, which of these two is the inability of
sinners to come to Christ ? Pause here a moment,
and think. I once was almost ready to suppose, it
was like that of a blind man to open his eyes ; but
if so, why does God eommand him to see ? Why
does he feel remorse that he has not done so, on his
death-bed, or at other times ? He knows he might
have done otherwise if he would. The swearer may
forbear to take God's name in vain if he will : can
te not ? If not, why will not God hold him guilt-
less ? Their defect then is not natural but moral :
that is, it is a defect in the will, which nothing but
grace can remedy. Now, then, I am well convinced
with Mr. C. that the defect is not natural, but mor-
al — what think you ? Perhaps you never thought
much on the subject. I would advise you to read
a little tract of Moselej's on the subject. Now Mr.
H. does not understand this distinction ; but supposes,
by saying it is not natural, we mean, that it is not
common to alJ, or universal : now we know it is.
and that in this sense it is not natural : but had Mr.
C used the word physical, or explained his mean-
ing a little, perhaps he would not have been attack-
ed by an Jluiinomian.
'• I am very glad you sent the Youths' Magazines :<
I like them very well. I am very sorry you were
not at prayer meeting in time; but I attach not
the least blame to you, because of your hard work
on Saturday, and so late. I thiuk there is gen-
erally something to imbitter our comforts a little.
I should also have rather heard that vou were
m
very happy in the time of prayer, than that you
were very uncomfortable ; but don't be cast down.
Mr. W. encourages you; your friends do the same,
and God appears to be on your side ; and you
know, if he is for you, none can prevail against
you. Do, now, take encouragement from the cir-
cumstance of the cheesemonger's man, (now the
Rev. J. G. of Devon.) and Mr. C. &e. and I am
confident, that as God sends you into the work of
the ministry, he will give you abilities sufficient.
—Trust, then, in him — pray to him — be humble-
he resigned — and I do hope you will experience
divine consolations, heavenly support, and abilities
sufficient. The preaching at the poor-house pleas-
ed me much ; your text was very appropriate ;
and there is something in the nature of the gos-
pel which is peculiarly adapted to the poor. Now
there does not seem any congruity between a fine
chapel, very elegant and grand, with carriages at
the door for the hearers, and the doctrines of the
meek and lowly Jesus. This does not, I say, appear
fit : and the gospel was originally preached to the
poor. I am glad you was not embarrassed at all,
and hope you will be the means of doing much good.
Get vour subject well into vour mind for Mr. K. ? s
room : think of how you shall arrange it. &©, as
77
Mr. W. told you. Tell me in your next your plan,
heads, &c. and whether you use notes or no. If you
think you cannot do without short ones, use them ;
but do not slavishly attend to them. I think you
had better work it well into your mind first, ami
then deliver it extempore, or without notes. Don't
be too delicate, or mind too much the smells of
rooms, and so on ; but consider Him who endured
all kinds of hardships, lest you be weary and faint in
your mind. I find I must not expect to hear from
you till after your examination in July : well, let
me have the more when you do send. About the
logical definition, I shall say no more ; only that
I think you are very much mistaken when you
imagine that T increase so much in knowledge, for
I really do not think I do so much as I ought ;
indeed these blundering letters are evidence of it,
so pray don't flatter. I did write a little in my
last about my present experience, I believe, because
I thought it was what you wanted. You say it
is not quite possible to recollect all one has writ-
ten in a former letter : I say, I know it is quite
impossible. You say you should like to see the
answers to the questions which I sent you ; hav-
ing room, I will transcribe some of them for you.
" Question. — * How do you prove the existence
of a God, without referring to the scriptures, or
from the light of nature ?'
" Answer — * (1st) All nations, heathens, Jews,
Mahometans, and Christians, harmoniously consent
that there is a God, who created, preserves, and
governs the world,'
*7
rs
" * (2d) Tliere is a great impress too of Daily
on the mind of every man : thai is. an indistinct
idea of his being, and a readiness to acquiesce in
the truth of his existence.'
" ' (3d) The works of creation demonstrate it :
their alterations and dependence prove them nor
to have been from eternity — they could not form
themselves — chance could not produce them — mat-
ter cannot change its own form, or produce life
or reason; therefore there must he a God."
£i e (4th) It is agreed from the support and gov-
ernment of the world — the heavenly bodies — sea-
sons — weather — vegetables — sagacity and instinct oi
animals — herbs, &.C.'
i; i (3th) From the punishments which have been
inflicted on nations and persons for their excessive
immoralities.'
* ; i (6th) From the terror and dread which wound
men's consciences when guilty of crimes which oth-
er men do not know, or are not able to punish or
restrain, as in the case of Nero, Domitian, and oth-
ers, and that, too, when they laboured to persuade
themselves and others that there was no God, &c.'
— See Brown, Doddridge's Lectures, Ridgley, Buck's
Dictionary, Sfc.
" Question. — < How do you prove that the scrip-
tures have been faitlif.illy conveyed to us r'
" Answer. — ' In translations those books retain
manifest marks of their Eastern original.'
" Notwithstanding all that Christ and his apos-
tles inveighed against the wickedness of the Jews
they never charged them with corrupting a single
text in the Bible. The various sects among the
Jews, viz. Pharisees, Sadducees, &e. have rendered
it impossible that they could corrupt them, as well
as the animosities which have ever since prevail-
ed between the Jews and Christians, so that nei-
ther of them could vitiate these sacred oracles,
without being shamefully detected. Had the Jews
attempted to corrupt these sacred books, it would
certainly have been in those passages in which
the fearful wickedness of their nation is described,
and Jesus Christ magnified and honoured ; but in
none of them do we find the least mark of con-
cealment or corruption. That they should be cor-
rupted among Christians, is equally incredible : such
was the multitude of copies, hearers, readers, and
even sects, among them, that it is impossible they
should ever have succeeded. Through the errors
of transcribers, &c, the comparer of a multitude
of copies cannot fail to find a number of transla-
tions. 7 — See Brown 9 s View of Religion.
; » Question. — ' What proofs have you that man.
was at first created righteous and holy ?'
"Answer. — (1st) 'Universal tradition; for all
nations have supposed mankind to have once been
in a holy and happy state-'
" ' (2d) The nature of things ; for it seems \ery
improbable that so holy and so good a God should-
have formed mankind, in the original constitution
of their nature, in so corrupt and sinful a, state.'
" ' (3d) The natural resemblance men have to
God in the spirituality, intelligence, and immor-
tality of their souls. — Gen. ix. 6. James iii. 9.
" ' (4th) The express declarations of scripture:
Eccl. vii. 29. Gen. i. 26, 27. Colos.iii. 10. Eph*
iv. 2±?
80
"These will now serve you for further meditating
on, as well as the subject of natural and moral ina-
bility : your opinion of which I shall expect in your
next letter. If you can, I would advise you to get
Mosely's Piece, or read attentively the pieces in the
Magazine : one of them is a letter from Dr. Watts. — .
I told Mr. Hordle about your present prospects ; I
did not see any occasion to secret it, as Mr. W.
knows it, and so many others : he is pleased on the
account of it. He will be in London, if spared and
well, on Wednesday the 2-lth instant, but do not
think he will be there long enough to preach, for
he is going much further, and will be away for a
month, at which time we expect a supply from Hox-
ton : we shall have a student come down and stay
all the time ; which of them it will be I do not know.
I have spoken to Mr. H. about Brown's View of
Religion, and he says it is quite at your service :
I shall enclose it, and hope you will read it at-
tentively through — be sure you read the address to
students, at the begiuning ; when you have done
with it, (he will not mind your keeping it a month
or more) send it by coach. In it you will find a
whole body of divinity in a very little compass.
The part on the light and law of nature is very
excellent. He was a most eminent man, and migh-
ty in the scriptures : may you and I be like him.
I am glad to hear the good news you give me of
your brother; I hope it will appear to be the work of
grace upon his soul, and that he may really be con-
verted. I like your plan of having a prayer meet-
ing much — may you all experience the blessings
you pray for.
81
Ci As to drawing landscapes and plans yon know
I never was any hand at it, nor do I think of
doing any thing in it ; if I do, you shall have it*
Perhaps I may give Samuel a note. You canuot
receive this until Tuesday morning, although writ-
ten on Saturday, because of the coach, so that I
shall have time enough between now and then for
thinking if there be any thing else to send. Wish-
ing you every spiritual and temporal blessing, I
remain your affectionate, though unworthy, friend,.
« THOMAS SPENCHR."
No. 13.
September 4, 1806-
ft MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" How wonderfully has Providence ap-
peared for you and for me. This time twelvemonth
beheld us both buried in a glove-shop — buried, did
I S ay — I recall the word, for we then enjoyed what
we do not now, mutual conversation, and each other's
company. Let us hope that the time may come
when we shall again enjoy that I am very glad
that you succeeded so well as you did in your ser-
mon before the committee ; take encouragement
from that circumstance to trust God for all your
future discourses. The Sabbath day, August 17,
though I found that I could not conveniently omit
any one of the services, yet I assure you I did not for-
get your request. I cannot say that I think it is
right (especially in me) to omit public worship for
private devotion. And if I had done it, my conduct
33
would »n all probability have been more inspected
about it than I should wish. I have not seen the
rules of Hoxton Academy; I do not think Mr. H.
has them ; should like to sec them much ; hope
you will send them next lime. I am fully persuaded
of the propriety, nay, duty, of your joining your-
self to a church, which now I hope you have done ;
but for my own part, I must confess T have excuses
for not doing it ; and what church could I join now ?
Perhaps you say, Mr. Hordle's. I answer, there is
no ehurch I should so like to be a member of as his :
but do you see a propriety in my being a member
here, when I do not expect to be here any longer
than Christmas ? There could not in my view have
been a more suitable pastor for you than Mr. B.
I hope you 'will find his people as suitable as him-
self. I approve too of your attending the prayer
meeting at his place of a morning, and hope you
find that convenient. May you have precious op-
portunities in the chapel, at the Lord's table, and
at the prayer meeting. You praise my verses too
much. Indeed they were only the hasty productions
of a few moments, and I have no copy of them, for
I only wrote them on a sh te, and then copied them
on the letter. However, I am glad you receive them
as a token of our regard and growing affcclion for
each other.* 1 would advise you by all means to
be very friendly with the young men, those with
whom you can consistently be so. I mean the more
* Those who may be anxious to see these verses inserted
in the Memoirs, are referred to page 13, for the reasons of
ihtir omission.
S3
pious, and those whom you feel most disposed to
associate with. There are, no doubt, a variety of
tempers, dispositions and ways in the academy, and
it is there, I dare say, as in other places, some good
and some bad. I do not wonder- at your finding
study to be wearisome and laborious. Solomon found
it go. — Ecel. xii. 12. Others find it so. I some-
times find it so, but I am persuaded it will not be
always so with you ; and you should recollect that
it is so different from what you have lately been en-
gaged in, that I should wonder if it did not appear
strange to you. But I should like to know what
■vou are studying that is so difficult : is it Latin,
Greek, English*, Hebrew, or what ? Now I do long
to be there for the sake of your company as much
as you wish me there. O, how charming it would
be for us to study together. How cheerfully would
I give you every instruction in my power. How
willingly would I forego my own studies for the
sake of improving the mind of a dear friend ! —
Such a time may come, and that's all I know of it;
for, as to when it will be, I confess I know no more
than you do. This only I know, that I shall leave
Mr. Hordle at Christmas, and shall then see you,
my father, mother, &c. who, I know, will be pleas-
ed to see me ; but whether I shall come again to Mr.
Hordle's or not, I believe nobodv knows. I think
that it is more likely that you should know before
me, for Mr. Wilson and tfee committee have the ma-
nagement of it. I have one request to make to you
whieh I hope you will grant, and that is that you
write to my father at Hertford to tell him where yofl
now are, Sec. I know he will be very gla^ to hear
84
of Tour welfare. Tell him that it was by my desire
you write to him,&c. This request you must, must
fulfil. I hope then my dear friend, you may be kept
of God from following evil examples, (if such there
be in a dissenting academy) and that it may appear
that you are designed to fill some important station
in the church of Jesus. Would it be amiss if we
were both to learn Doddridge's 72d hymn, entitled,
* Isaiah's Obedience to the Heavenly Vision.' I
know you will like the hymn much. There is one
thing I do not like in Hoxton Academy, that is, their
not learning Hebrew without the points, which are
little dots or specks put under and about the let-
ters. Hee on the commandments which are hunsr
over the fire-place in the lecture room at the acad-
emy, if there are not such. Now, about these
points there is a great dispute between the punct-
ists and those who are not for their use. The
punctists (Mr. S. is a strong one) contend that they
are of great use. Some say they are of divine
authority. The great Mr. Romaine, and (he late
learned Mr. Parkhurst, oppose this idea, and say
thai they are only little dots or specks added by
ill-designing men to the letters. I feel inclined to
believe them. Now, I dread almost the learning
it with points, as it is extremely difficult ; without
them, it is simple and easy. Mr. H thinks
they are of use, but <loes not think them of equal
authority to the letters ; and scarcely ever reads
with them. Now, he thought it best for me to
4 earn it without points with him, and then at the
academy I could learn with them, and so read both
ways. 1 Have compiled a lexicon myself, contain-
85
ma the roots of all the words in the language-—
that is, I have quite abridged Parkhurst's very val-
uable one (and what no Hebrew student should be
without) into a portable form for my own use. —
Now, I hope your mind will be eased, and your
anxiety removed, and with the warmest affection,
. " I remain,
66 Your ever faithful friend,
« THOMAS SPENCER ."
No. 14.
Harwich, Oct. 14, 1S0(5,
i{ MY DEAREST FRIEND,
" As it is now considerably more than a
month since you wrote me a note from Hoxton Acad-
emy, and I answered it, I conclude that a letter
from me will be what von now desire; and yet I
am not quite certain whether you should not have
written first ; but by way of compensation for my
too long silence before, I am willing to converse
with you on paper. And as Mr. Hordle is gone
to Ipswich to-day, to an association of ministers,
and I have nothing particular tG be engaged in be-
sides, I embrace the opportunity. You are now, 1
suppose, a little inured to study, and begin to find
the difficulties of a student's life not so many as
you apprehended they were. I long to know in
what studies you are engaged, and how you like
them. I have just begun the Greek language ; so
of course do not know much about it, my time hav-
ing been of late principally employed in the lle-
8
86
Drew, of which I am very fond, especially as I now
lead it < unsophisticated by Rabinieal points.' I
please myself with the idea of seeing and convers-
ing with you in the course of about ten weeks ; but
at that time there will be something else which I
shall not so much admire. Do you ask me what it
lis ? It is, my dear friend, nothing less than appear-
ing before the committee of Hoxton Academy. The
thought of it makes me almost tremble. Yesterday
morning Mr. Hordle told me that I must prepare
the account of my experience, sentiments and mo*
lives for wishing the ministry by November, to be
then laid before the gentlemen of the committee.
This you know must be done ; and when I go to
London about Christmas, I must go through all that
painful task, which, as it respects you, is all over.
He told me, too, that he supposed there would be some
demur about admitting me, merely on the account of
my youth ; but he does not know that it will be so
as to hinder my admittance. Mr. Wilson has, it ap-
pears, written to Mr. H. about it; so, if the affair
succeeds well, I shall be in the Academy after
Christmas ivith you. That one circumstance, your
company and friendship, will make amends for all
my trouble of mind on the occasion. You may be
sure 1 shall communicate every circumstance to you,
and keep nothing back, that so by one occurrence
and another, our mutual attachment and sincere
friendship may be iuereased and strengthened. What
a long separation we have experienced : may we be
brought together again to strengthen each other's
hands, and be both engaged in the best employment.
You must inform me in your next, how long you
p
tf
think it will be before you begin to preach, and lei)
me all your places of preaching, texts, plans. &c
I hope you have written to my lather, as I request-
ed you would. I believe they are going on as usual
at Hertford. Mr. M. continues among them. May
great grace rest upon them all. I do not doubt that
I shall feel some degree of uneasiness when the
time comes for my separation from my friends here
at Harwich. I mean such as Mr. Hordle, &c. &c.
But my satisfaction will be, that I shall see yau
who are still, and I hope ever will be, my dearest
friend. We live in a world of changes. Life is in-
deed a chequered scene. And here we have no con-
tinuing city. May we seek one to come. May it
Je our happiness to enjoy the favour of Him who
never changes, but is the same yesterday, to-day,
and forever. "When I consider my exceeding sin-
fulness and depravity, besides my inability, I feel
almost disposed to wish my views had never been
directed towards the ministry, but it does appear a
call of Providence. How could I do any thing else
than come here. And now, perhaps, a door may be
opened even for my being a student at Hoxton 5 but
I shall go there under several disadvantages ; for,
being so young, I may expect a good deal of con-
tempt from some self-sufficient and arrogant stu-
dents, (if such there are) and you know they stay
no longer than four years, and after that I shall be
but twenty years old, and what can I then say to
old experienced Christians. I do indeed feel a deal
of discouragement. u O may the Lord encourage
/ne, ? " &c. But I shall come under some advantages ;
for, as, I am not altogether ignorant of many things
88
taught at Hoxton Academy, I shall find my studies
easier than if I had to begin learning them, &c. I
wish we could be in one class. Another disadvan-
tage which Mr. Hordle has told me of is this — The
students generally spend their money which they
are paid for preaching, in books,* &c. Now, I shall
be too young to preach for at least these four years,
consequently I can have no books, &c. till that time.
This appears a very great disadvantage. However,
I would wish to leave all in the hands of God. lie
knows what is best for me. And if I am one of
those who love God, and are the called according to
his purpose, he will make all things work together
for my good. I want that calm disposition which
* It may perhaps be considered as departing- from the
design of this volume, or descending too much to minute
particulars — yet I cannot satisfy myself without directing
the eyes of those gentlemen who may have the care of pro-
viding supplies for the pulpit in destitute churches, or in
cases of the pastor's absence, to this important circumstance,
But few of the students in our academies are overburthened
with money— yet money is absolutely necessary for the pur-
chase of books, without which their studies must be consi-
derably retarded. Deacons, and others whom it may con-
cern, should bear this in mind, in the compliments which
they may make them for their occasional services ; and re-
member, that there is no case in which they can with great-
er delicacy or propriety, display a generous regard to their
wants in this respect, than when thus remunerating them for
their acceptable labours. It is needless to express a disap-
probation, which every candid mind must feel, of a conduct
directly the reverse of this, which is perhaps too often prac-
ticed when the consideration is diminished for the very rea-
son on account of which it ought to be increased— it is but
a student.
89
is careful for nothing, but in every thing "by prayer
and supplication, makes known its requests unto
God. I often reflect on the dealings of Providence
with us when I first came to Mr. TVs. You, I sup-
pose, had not the least prospect of being a student
at Hoxton. And I could not see how my coming
there to learn that business, could at all further
toy preparation for that sacred work. We there
became friends. I was there just long enough to
secure a worthy and affectionate friend, and to have
the notice of Mr. Wilson. Now you, too, have left
Mr. T. and are in the academy. I went, you know,
home, not knowing what the event would be. Pro-
vidence has sent me here ; and O, " what am I, or
my father's house, that he has brought me hither-
to." We are now blind to futurity. We know not
where we shall be placed in future life, whether
far from, or near to each other. I hope you are*
happy in your own soul, and that yoa live near to
God. There is a great danger of forgetting the*
concerns of our own souls, whilst we are constantly
employed in studying divine things. I know a little
of this from experience, and perhaps you do. I hope
you continue to pray for me ; that I may be kept
from sin and evil, for you know 'ike effectual fervent
prayer of a righteous man avatletk much. 1 ' Does your
brother David make progress in the divine life ?
You must, in your next letter, give me some account
of the change which I hope is wrought in him, for I
feel an affectionate regard for all who belong to you.
I ought to write te Mr. E . Is he well ? When
you see him, remember me to him, and also to your
*8
so
cousin F . Tell him to write to me, if it wifl
suit him. You may, likewise, if you please, tell him
how my affairs stand, as I have stated to you. It
will be needless for me to give you any advice re-
specting the composition of your sermons, or the
prosecution of your studies, as you, without doubt,
have access to so many books on the subject. I hope
you will read < Watts' Improvement of the Mind.'
I think it must be charming to attend Walker's lec-
tures on philosophy. Do you attend them? I should
like it very much. Mr. H. told me, that he did
give lectures at the academy : of course you are
there when he does. You know now when to ex-
pect me in London, a little before Christmas, can-
not say the exact day; so that now, if you like, you
may count the time. Do not be I0112 before you let
me hear from you ; and when you write, write a
good deal. I remain, with the tenderest affection,
your sincere and faithful friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
Such, at this early age, were the letters of this
amiable youth. For the introduction of so large a
number it is unnecessary to apologize, since that
heart is surely in an unenviable state which can
derive no pleasure or profit from their perusal.
Their simplicity is not their smallest ornament:
whilst for the many useful hints which they sug-
gest, as well as for the fervent and exalted piety which
breathes throughout the whole, they may be consulted
with considerable advantage by youthful candidates
9i
for the saered office. Let such as early feel A«
desires lie felt, and pant with an equal ardour for
(he work of God, imitate his modest diffidence —
his devotional temper — his jealousy of the motives
which influenced his choice — his intimate commu-
nion with his own heart — his love of retirement —
his habitual reference of his affairs to the will of
God — his addictedness to self examination and to
prayer — and above all, that deep and solemn con-
sciousness of the important work in which he desir-
ed, with fear and trembling, to be engaged !
In resuming the thread of the narrative, which
the introduction of these extracts from his corres-
pondence has suspended, it eannot but be gratifying
to the reader, to be presented with that deep im-
presssion of Mr. Spencer's call and qualifications
for the Christian ministry, which his familiar inter-
course with him had produced on Mr. Hordle's
mind.
In a recent letter to a friend, that gentleman
observes : —
" I have had but one opinion concerning our late
young friend, which is — that he was born a preacher,
and as much called to it, as Jeremiah to the prophet-
ic, or Paul to the apostolic office. All the powers of
his soul were evidently formed for it. While he was
under my roof, preachers and preaching were the
constant topics of his discourse ; and those studies
which had an immediate reference to them were
his delight. His remarkable gift in prayer, though
then just turned of tifteen, astonished and pleased
all that heard him. He usually took his turn in
leading the devotions of our little family ; and in
8t£
Lis attendance on my ministry, I Lave sometimes
seen the feeiings of his heart in the tears that gusli*
ed from his eyes."
In perfect accordance with these sentiments are
those expressed by the same gentleman, in a letter
to a friend at Liverpool, dated Harwich, 13th Dec.
1811 :
" Of his genuine piety, his fine imagination, his
early attachment to theological pursuits, his love
of study in general, his amiable disposition, and
the powerful bias of his mind to the work of the
Christian ministry, I have repeatedly declared my
firm conviction ; and had Divine Providence spared
his valuable life, I have no doubt, as his judgment
ripended, his character, excellent as it was, would
still have improved."
Whilst such were the impressions, so truly hon-
ourable to his character, left upon his tutor's heart
by the sweetness of his temper, and the vigour of his
Hdind — it is pleasing also to observe the grateful and
lively rememberance which the pupil cherishes of
the kindness of his early friend.
In a letter, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Hordie,
from Hertford, he observes : —
" The day of my examination is now fixed for
the 7th of January. To that day, dear Sir, I look
forward with trembling : may God grant me all
that strength and boldness I shall then need. It is
impossible lor me to describe my feelings the night
I left you. I tried to suppress any outward ex-
pressions of them as well as I could. But O ! 'tis
trying to part with friends who are become tv,-;
r to us 5 but is it not, also, comforting to look
93
forward to a never ending eternity, when those
who are cemented into one glorious body by the
bonds of divine love shall never part ?" After-
wards he adds : — < ; For my part, I desire to he en-
tirely his, (God's) but still I find a heart of unbelief,
ever prone to depart from the living God. I hope
I feel my own unfitness for the important under-
taking, for which it appears God designs me. May
he keep me holy and humble, and fit me for all
he has in reserve for me in the womb of Providence,
whether prosperous or adverse."
In a subsequent letter, dated Hoxton, 23th March,
1807, he says — " I am told S , of Kingston, is
going to Harwich : hope you will find him a bles-
sing to your family, and when he shall leave you,
may he review with as much pleasure the year 1807,
as I do the year 1806. 1 trust I shall be constant-
ly enabled to obey the kind advice which you gave
me, and to lay every human attainment at the
foot of the cross of Jesus ; to dedicate all I have
to him, of whom I would always esteem it my
highest honour to learn ; to give up every thing
that I may be called to sacrifice for the promoting
of his glory, and constantly to seek not my own
things, but the things which are Jesus Christ's."
In another, towards the close of the year 1807V
lie writes : —
"I shall never forget the year I spent at Har-
wich; viewing one circumstance with another, I
doubt not, but that it was as happy a twelvemonth
as I shall ever live."
With such mutual feelings and expressions of
affectionate regard, was Mr. Spencer's departure
94
from Mr. Hordle's family attended. And this re-
view of them will not be in vain, if it suggests to
the young persons who may contemplate this im-
perfect portrait of one, whom living they so much
admired, the vast importance of that impression,
which the conduct of their childhood or their youth
may leave in the scenes of their earliest associa-
tion. For the most part, the character of the
youth is the character of the man. If, on the cir-
cle of his earliest intercourse, an unfavourable im-
pression of his disposition or his conduct is pro-
duced, there it is likely to remain ; but, alas ! there
it cannot be confined 5 it not unfrequcntly travels
further than the person with whom it is connected,
and the character is familiar where the counte-
nance is unknown. Who that has a respect, then,
for himself, but must be anxious that the impres-
sion, upon which so much depends, should be a
happy one 5 and that the correcter habits of matur-
er age should not be counteracted in their favour-
able operation by the injurious fame, or unpleasant
recollections of his early years.
But we must follow the amiable object of our
contemplation to a new scene.
The following are copious extracts from the pa-
pers which he submitted to the inspection of the
committee at Hoxton, on his formal application
for admission into that institution : they were tie-
eompanied by a note to T, Wilson, £&(£.
93
Harwich, November 10, 1306-
" HONOURED SIR.
• ; With diffidence I present the following
account of my short experience, doctrinal senti-
ments, and motives for wishing to engage in the
solemn and important work of the ministry, to
your judgment and that of the committee. I am,
with the sincerest gratitude for your favours, your
humble servant,
« THOMAS SPENCER."
Harwich, «Yoi\ 10. 180G.
Ci It was my happiness to he born of parents,
who maintained a regard for real pietv and the fear
of God ; by them I was. from mv infancv. taught to
read the scriptures, together with other books of a
serious nature. I think I may safelv sav, that from
my childhood I felt some more than common impres-
sions on my mind, with respect to the existence and
perfections of God, the evil and awful consequences
of sin, and the advantages of being religious ; but
alas ! these impressions, though so frequently fell, had
not that abiding influence which they have had on
the minds of others, but were like the ; morning cloud
and the earbj dew which passeth away? As I grew
rather older, I began to perceive some excellencies in
religion, and to envy the happiness, which I believed
serious people enjoyed. I knew something of the
form of religion and the doctrines of it, from having
been taught catechisms, and lessons calculated to
96
give youthful minds some ideas of the worship r»»ul
conduct which God requires. Yet notwithstanding
this, I gave too much (far too much) attention to the
reading of novels arid romances, the unhappy effect
of which I lament to the present day. Many of
these books 1 procured of lads, without the knowl-
edge of my father. I felt a degree of pleasure in
hearing lively, animated sermons ; but I have reason
to believe that this sprung from a desire to please
my friends, and give myself an opportunity of imi-
tating the preacher's voice and gesture. I also com-
posed little pieces of poetry on sacred subjects, which
I have since destroyed, because I then knew nothing
of experimental, vital godliness, and of course was
only mocking God in them ; but I did not give up
making verses. All this while, I was totally igno-
rant of that divine principle of grace in the heart,
without which, I am sensible, nothing we can do is
acceptable to God. 1 knew nothing of the Holy
Spirit's work, in convincing me of sin, and leading
me to Jesus Christ as my Saviour. I knew nothing
of communion with God and with his Son. i hope
some of the sermons of Mr. Ebenezer White, of
Hertford, were not altogether useless to me, as well
as some which 1 heard at Lady Huntingdon's chapel
there ; but from my conduct at that time, in various
particulars, I cannot say that I had experienced what
was meant by being born again. If >ou ask me
ftom what time 1 date my conversion to God, 1 must
say, that the exact time 1 cannot tell; but 1 think I
may also say, that the Lord drew me gradually to
himself, and by degrees J loved devotional exercises
more and more ; and I hope that 1 have, witbin
97
these tout years, experienced many refreshing sea-
sons. How I wish to have my evidences brightened,
as it respects personal interest in the Lord Jesus
Christ ! I desire to east my all upon him, and wait
his will concerning me. However short my experi-
ence in the divine life lias been, can I not appeal to
God, and say, ' Lord, thou knowest all things, thou
knewest that I love thee?"
u I hope that my reasons for wishing to be a la-
bourer in the Lord's vineyard are sincere, and that
they do not spring from any improper motives. If
I should be called into it, I pray that T may be kept
faithful, and never shun to declare the whole coun-
sel of God. As I know something of the excellency
of the ways of wisdom, 1 am anxious that my fellow-
mortals may be partakers of the same grace, and
that they may he brought to know God, and experi-
ence the "riches of diviue love and mercy in Christ
Jesus : and if God should so honour me, as to make
me an instrument in his hand, of doing them real
good, how happy should 1 be; kow willing to en-
dure hardships for Jesus' sake. As I trust God has
given me a desire to act for his glory, and I know-
that he is glorified in the salvation of sinners, I am
willing, if He should call me to the Work, to engage in
it. I am aware, that it is an arduous and a difficult
work, yet from these principles, I would fain be a
faithful minister of Jesus Christ. I would follow
the leadings of Divine Providence. By the good
hand of my God upon ine, I am brought hitherto ;
9
68
I although some titt am -
yet. 'where he appoint*. I'll go and dwell." I am
net qaite sixteen years old, yet young as I am. J
have committed many sins, and experienced many
mercies. Now, unto Him that is able to keep me
from falling, and to | it me before the presence
of his glory wjth i ding joy. Km glory and majes-
ty, dominion and power, forever and even Amen
i; I believe in one God as the object of religions
■Lip : that (His God is from everlasting; and
■ in our Jehovah there are three distinct persona,
Ih i ', r, the Son. and the Holv Ghost, and
n t these three are one : that this is a mysten whieh
we cannot explain, yet must believe, because it is
! in ho] r writ. That man was created holv.
but fell from his original reetitude, and sunk him-
.'and all bis posterity into sin and uo. I bell
. that God from aH eternity elected and chose his
onto e'emal salvation; that men are in
a lost stale and condition, and are spiritually dead :
rhat they cannot he saved by any merit or works of
ir own. but only b? the righteousness of Christ
the Si : that it is by the operation of God the
Holy Spirit on the mind of man, that he beeonu - fl
sible sinner: that his understanding must be en-
lightened before he can choose God far his portion,
or the paths of religion as those in whieh he will
walk. It was for this c\u\ and purpose that Christ
MS came into the world, viz. to save sinner-
]>i> own blood ; and I am persuaded that then
90*
i no other but in hi: s able to
save t uttermost all :ome unto God
him. 9 I believe that he is the eternal God, •
same d I ■ lay, and fa « r :' that his
aee is ail sufficient, his same^ p : rson, and all that
concerns him. is pi ! e : th
jse who 5 faith
tified from all their si is — at he same ' ... ] . v.
lievers are e alle*] ' I it is by
. '. . their walk, th.-.t ;
tlenee tu : around them, that th ir profession is
sincere, for • i vithoi uss no man skall &
Lord.' As 1 am fully satisfied fritn respect to the
divine origin : . and the ins;
of the holy men wh iwi . so I b
thev are the onerrine st which
faith, and upon which we are to rest oar opinions.
I believe, that the people of God should f>rm them-
selves into separate churches, that thev mav eniov
the benefit of divine ordinance?, such as baptism and
tlie Lord's supper, together \\ ith the hearing of ll
word, &c. I believe, that the ; 'liaaace of baptism
is ' administered to the children of believers, in-
asmuch as it is a sism of their admission into tin-
visible ehureh. and as it is emblematical of the ^ri\ -
ing of the Holy Ghost, and that it i- to be ad mi >-
ten 1 by sprinkling. I believe, that, notwithstan
■ all the Christian's enemies and dangers. I.
shall hold on has way. a 1 -: .r.v -•;
: li u-'i the dn.jirine vt' final per<: -
vei ha- seil, as well as its tru:
mneh nnestioned, it is au article of my faith. Lucau?
• r : woi ! ' ] blares it. I belitve in the approa^ .'.■
100
oi a judgment day — the eternal glory of believer*,
and the insufferable torments of the wicked in hell.
1 believe that God will have the whole glory of the
salvation of those who are saved forever and ever 5
and that through all eternity they will ascribe do-
minion, power and glory to Him who loved them,
and Mashed them in his own blood — at the same
time, sinners will everlastingly blame themselves for
ir perdition and wo."
On the 7ih of January he appeared at Hoxtoiu
before the committee, and underwent the examina-
tion which he had so long and so anxiously antici-
pated — with success and honour: was admitted a
student, and became immediately an inmate of the
house. In a letter to his friend, Mr. Hordle, dated
Hoxton, January 21st, 1807, he says —
t; Two things make this day remarkable to me —
one is, that it is my birth day, as I am now sixteen
years old; the other is, that I have been a fortnight
in this house. On Wednesday the 7th inst. that
long dreaded day, I appeared before the committee.
Your imagination may represent a little boy speak-
ing before them. I felt a good deal of timidity, and
waited the event with feelings of anxiety." " I
hope I can say, I feel the importance of that work
for which it appeals God in his providence has de-
signed me : but oh ! I need larger degrees of grace
to fill that station in such a manner, as that my own
aoul, and the souls of my fellow creatures, may be
benefitted thereby." " I recall to my mind oc-
currences which transpired when I was at Harwich — -
may I have all God's dealings sanctified unto me.
1 want a deeper acquaintance with my awn ke a
1G1
and a more influential knowledge of God my »Sa
viour."
That, on his entrance into the Academy at Hox-
tou, Mr. Spencer was no novice in the knowledge
and experience of divine things, is obvious from a
perusal of the papers above cited. With a mind
already the subject of considerable culture, and hab-
its formed for the pursuits of science, he commenc-
ed his academical course under circumstances the
most auspicious. The importance of such a previ-
ous preparation in candidates for the Chrisian min-
istry, and the patronage of our dissenting colleges,
is not, perhaps, sufficiently considered. It is to be
regretted, that so many enter without having previ-
ously obtained the lowest rudiments of general
science, or even a tolerable acquaintance with their
native tongue. The time allotted for a student's
residence is, in the most liberal institutions, but
short, compared with the immense labour and mag-
nitude of the object to be obtained. But much of
this time, short as it is, must be expended in the in-
culcation of those first principles of knowledge,
which might be easily obtained elsewhere 5 and then
when the student is somewhat prepared for studies
more suitable to the dignity of a college, he begius
to preach. Thus an attention which ought to be un-
dividedly devoted to the labours of the study and
the exercises of rhe class, is partly lavished on pre-
parations for the pulpit and public services. Hence
arose the plan, so judiciously adopted in certain
eases, in connexion with the college of which Mr.
Spencer was t a member, and of the beneiieial ten-
dency of which he was so striking an example, of
*9
10*
sending the candidates who may be defective in lae~8#
radical points, or too young for admission, to some
pioas and able minister for preparatory instruction.
But these instances, the offspring of a peculiar ne-
cessity, shew the importance of an institution, found-
ed expressly for preparatory studies,- — that so a
matter of such vast importance to the respectabililv
of the ministry may not be left to the casual benev-
olence of liberal and enlightened individuals, or any
happy combination of circumstances in a solitary
ease.*
In the mean time, to remedy, as far as may be.
by his own exertions, this serious defect, should be
an object of conscientious regard to every young
man whose views are directed to the Christian min-
istry. 13 y a diligent improvement of his time — bj
a careful employment of those smaller portions of
it, which in too many cases are suffered impercepti-
bly to slide away — aided by the friendly direction
and advice of some prudent and well-informed min-
ister, which may without much difficulty he in even-
case obtained — any one of tolerable capacity and
perseverance might afford his own mind a consider-
able degree of cultivation, and attain a portion of
knowledge, ere his entrance into an academy, most
favourable to the facility and success of his pursuits
whilst there.
These remarks more particularly apply to those
young men, who, with views directed towards the
* Tlie reader who would be gratified with an outline of
the course of study pursued in most of our dissenting col-
leges, may turn to the Appendix, J\'o. L
n
KM
ministry, are still engaged in secular employments,
and to whom the privileges of an academy must be,
in the first instance, regarded as a distant object.
Little of importance can be expected to have
transpired, in connexion with the early part of Mr.
Spencers residence at Hoxton. It appears, how-
ever, that here, as in the Poultry and at Harwich, his
interesting appearance and amiable manners soon
trained him the love and esteem of all. The tutors
and the students alike felt an interest in this new
and youthful member of their literary society — and
lie applied himself with diligence to the improve-
ment of those advantages whieh he there enjoyed,
lie was now introduced to a wider range of observa-
tion and of study. But whilst a respect to the or-
ders of the institution, and a desire to render him-
self, by useful acquirements, respectable in any cir-
cle in which it might be his future lot to move, in-
duced him to apply with becoming diligence to the
various occupations assigned him, he yet dwelt with
peculiar attachment on such as were more immedi-
ately connected with the work of preaching. And
Avith an ardent desire to be early and extensively
employed in the ministry of the gospel, a desire
strengthened and confirmed by time, it can be no
matter of surprise, that to this darling object were
directed all the hours of his leisure, and ail the ar-
dour of his soul.
At the vacation in June he returned to his father's
house at Hertford. During his stay there he preach*
cd his first sermon in public. It was at the small
village of Collier's End, six miles from Hertford.
IIjs auditory consisted of about thirty plain country
104
people — and his text was 1 John i. ?, ' The blood of
Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth lis from all sin.'' Sim-
ple and unlettered, however, as his audience might
be, they had sufficient penetration to discover the
uncommon talents of their youthful preacher; which,
together with the novelty and loveliness of his ju-
venile appearance, excited in that little village an
astonishment and admiration, which have since cir-
culated through all the districts of the great metro-
polis, and almost every town in Great Britain. How
beautiful is the progression which marks all the
dispensations of nature, providence, and grace.
From the smallest springs the mightiest rivers rise,
to promote the fruitfulness or waft the commerce
of the world. From the grain of mustard seed, the
kingdom of heaven gradually rises and expands,
till it becomes a great tree, beneath whose shade
all the nations of the earth repose ; and in the his-
tory of individuals, — from the day of small things,
has not unfrequently arisen a career, whose brillian-
cy has dazzled and surprised the world ; and from
the remarkable concurrence of circumstances, events
the most important to the interests of the individual,
and the happiness of mankind, have sprung. It is
for the most part denied to men, who move in a
public and extended circle, to witness those early
displays of genius, and that gradual developement
of talents, afterwards so eminent for their usefulness
or splendour, upon which the eye of a philosopher
would love to dwell. This is usually the privilege
of a few obscure individuals in some retired spot.
The new fledged bird first tries its pinions in it*
own sequestered bower ere it soars above its native
105
glen, and courts the admiration of man by the boldness
of its flight, or the sweetness of its song. And yet there
is such a peculiar interest connected with the early
efforts of a mighty mind, and the first stages of an
eminent career, that we gather with diligence all
that cau he gleaned respecting them, and list* n with
delight to the narration of those who were spectators.
But few perhaps who have heard of Spencer, but
would gladly be transported to the peaceful village
of Coliier^s End, and mingle with the auditors under
3iis first sermon there. And it requires no uncom-
mon acquaintance with the principles of our nature,
and the doctrine of association in the human mind,
to predict, that the villages of Halfway, Street, and
Lewisham, in Kent, will derive some celebrity in the
religious world from having been the scenes of min-
isterial labour, when a youth, to a preacher, who for
these twelve years past has held the delighted audi-
tories of the metropolis the willing captives of his
eloquence.* And surely such a principle as this,,
whilst in its gratification it yields an undescribable
pleasure, may be cultivated to no small advantage.
It banishes from the mind that despair of reaching
* The name of Doctor Collyer is too well known to derive
any additional celebrity from being 1 copied on a page my hand
has written. And perhaps I may be censured for indulging-
in an allusion here which bears at least the appearance of
flattery. Far be it from me to cherish such a principle.
The work in which T am engaged is sacred to friendship and
to the memory of departed worth j and is it at all surprising,
that whilst "endeavouring to preserve the record of a friend
removed by death, my memory should sometimes reciu* to the
many excellencies which have so long- endeared to me a friend
ffl whom 1 am removed by distance ?
106
if, which a contemplation of exalted eminence might
inspire, by an assurance, that the object at which he
aims is not unattainable, since its present possessor
once occupied the same level with himself, and was
attended bv circumstances as unfavourable to his ele-
w
vation as those which at present may encompass him.
Our amiable young preacher's first sermon excited
a strong desire in his hearers for a repetition of his
labours; and his fame, rapidly circulating, produced
an invitation also, from another quarter, for the fol-
lowing Sabbath. To these solicitations, we may
suppose without much reluctance, he complied ; and
lie preached again on the morning of July 12th, at a
village called Broughin. His text on this occasion
was Col. iii. 3, ' Ye are dead, and your life is hid wffli
Christ in God.' In the afternoon and evening of the
same day, he preached again at Collier's End. In
the afternoon from Acts xix. 2, 6 Have ye received the.
Holy Ghost?' In the evening from Phil. iii. 48,
' They are the enemies of the cross of Christ.' The
attendance at Collier's End was, on this second Sab-
bath, so much increased, that the room would scarce-
ly contain the people who were desirous of hearing,
and every one seemed still more deeply affected by
the impressive manner, the solemn doctrines, and the
surprising powers of this young divine. On the fol-
lowing Thursday he preached again at a place called
Brickenden, from John iv. 29, ' Come see a man which
told me all things that ever I did ; is not this the
Christ?' On Sunday, July 19th, he again resumed
his labours at Collier's End, and preached in the
afternoon from 2 Chron. xxxiii. 12, 13, ' Jlnd when
he was in affliction he besought the Lord his Qod]
107
a, hi humbled himself greatly before the God of his
fathers* and prayed iinto him* and lie was entreated
of him* and heard his supplication* and brought him
again to Jerusalem* and to his kingdom. Then Ma-
nasseh knew that the Lord he was GodS In the
evening the multitude that assembled was so great.
that to sratifv them all. he was under the necessity
of preaching out of doors, which he did with great
animation and effect, from Rom. xiv. 12, 'So then
every one of us shall give account of himself to GodS
It appears from the report of one who was present
at the delivery of this sermon, that it was remarka-
bly impressive. Although surrounded by so great a
crowd, he seemed quite undaunted, and expressed
himself with an ease and an energy which produced
the most serious impressions upon many, and excited
the astonishment of all. To see the old and grey-
headed melted into tears beneath the simple touches
and fervent appeals of a youth, but little more than
sixteen years of age, proclaiming with the bold-
ness and propriety of an experienced veteran the
glorious gospel of the blessed God, must have been
truly interesting. And it is also gratifying to know,
that by the earliest labours of this excellent youth,
happy and saving effects were produced, which re-
main to this day. On the evening of Thursday, Ju-
ly 23d, he preached at Buntingford* a town about
ten miles from Hertford, from John x. 9, ' By me, if
any man enter ir* he shall be saved* and shall go in
and out* and find pasture.' On Sunday, July 26th,
he preached again, afternoon and evening, at Colli-
er's End. In the afternoon from John vi. 41, ' jVU
man can come to me except the Father which serf
108
mc draw him: and I will raise him up at the last
day.' 9 In the evening from 2 Tim. ii. 19, ' Neverthe-
less the foundation of God siandeth sure, having this
seal, the Lord knoweth them that are his, and let eve-
ry one that namefh the name of Christ depart from
iniquity.'' On the Wednesday evening following he
preached at Hormead, from Psalm iv. 6, 6 There be
many that say, who ivill shew us any good ? Lord,
lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon usS And
on the Thursday evening again at Brickenden. At
Hormead his congregation amounted to six or seven
hundred persons, and the place where they were as-
sembled was a barn.* Indeed by this time his fame
had so widely circulated, that wherever he preached.
* The circumstance of Mr. Spencer's preaching- in a bam c
and in the open air, may perhaps excite unpleasant feelings
in the breasts of some who, having- occasionally heard him
with delight, may honour these pages with a perusal. The\
may feel regret, perhaps, that he should ever have been so
irregular, or have ever trodden in the steps of men, who are
universally condemned as enthusiasts and fanatics. It is ne-
cessary, therefore, in order to vindicate him, and all who
have been guilty of a similar offence against the laws of eccle-
siastical deconim, from the charge of enthusiasm and fanati-
cism, to produce some passages of scripture, by which their
conduct, in this respect, is fully justified : ' Hoivbeit, the Most
Jfigh chvelleth not in temples made idth hands? — Acts vii. 48.
' Where (whether in a field, a barn, or a temple,) two or three
are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of
fbertC — Mat. xviii. 20. * Go oiit into the highways and hedges
an/1 compel them to come in? — Luke xiv. 13. The most im-
pressive sermon ever preached was delivered in the open air,
upon a mount. And the wilderness of Judea was the scene
of his ministry, who was honoured to be the forerunner of the
Messiah.
109
numbers flocked from all parts to hear ant! see this
wonderful youth ; and he might have preached every
day in the week, had he been so inclined, so nume-
rous were the invitations that crowded upon him.
However, his vacation drew towards a close ; and
his return to Hoxton suspended for awhile these
public exercises. He preached on the evening of
Sunday, Aug. 2d, at lioydon ; and we hear no more
of his preaching till December. It certainly ad™
mits of doubt, whether these early exercises in
public preaching are beneficial or injurious. That
they are injurious, may be argued from the circum-
stance, that they tend to elate and dissipate the
mind — to inspire it with conceited notions of its own
superior powers— too soon, alas ! to familiarize the
ear to the insinuating sounds of flattery, and, in-
vesting the youth with high conceptions of his pres-
at qualifications, to annihilate those humiliating
views of his own ignorance and imperfection, — and
that ardent panting after knowledge in which lies
the great source of respectability and usefulness in
after life. Not to notice those practical errors into
which the ignorance and incaution natural to youth
may lead him, when engaged in directing men in
aftairs of infinite and eternal moment. If the acred
evangelist, — the venerable pastor, is heard so f re-
cently to deplore his imperfection and lament the
possibility of error in his public instructions — a
young man may well proceed in his early labours
with caution, and had need to be possessed of no
common discretion and knowledge, to counteract the
suspicions necessarily excited, in the breasts of the
aughtfuL, by his youth.
4(» .
110
But perhaps, on the other hand, il-.avt are pecu-
liar advantages connected with an early entrance
on the work of preaching. The novelty of the
circumstance excites attention, and many are con-
verted, who, but for the juvenility of the preacher,
had never heard the gospel from his lips, and this
is doubtless amongst the many means which an In-
finite Wisdom has selected, for accomplishing, in
the conversion of sinners, the purposes of an in-
iinite love. Besides that on the preachers own
mind, his early employment in ministerial labour
may have a most happy influence. By an early ini-
tiation into the difficulties and trials of the work,
he may attain an ease and a skill in its execution,
which is perhaps but seldom reached by the man
who has commenced much later in the day. ]n
youth the mind is all activity, and difficulties which
are met with then are far more easily surmounted
than when they are presented to the opposition of
maturer age. But after all, much depends upon
the peculiar circumstances of the individual case.
Many a man is better prepared for the work of the
ministry at sixteen than others are at forty ; and whilst
the popularity and flattery which usually attend
the course of youthful preachers would be the ruin
of some, there arc others indued with a prudence
and a piety sufficient to resist their influence. And
be it remembered, that the time allotted to every
man for labour is at best but short, and that for
many of our ministers — adas ! that these should be,
for the most part the most eminent and useful ! — is
prepared an early grave ! To be squandering away
the precious time which ought to be devoted to
Ill
the salvation of immortal souls, in the acquisi-
tion of profound and extensive erudition ; to be im-
mured for years in the wails of a study, and con-
fined to the precincts of a college, impairing the
physical strength by midnight application, and
smothering the flames of holy zeal amid the ices
of metaphysics and the lumber of heathenish philos-
ophy, whilst thousands of immortal souls are perish-
ing, to whose eternal interest those years might hd
successfully devoted — is certainly a conduct highly
culpable, and not in the spirit of Him who said —
6 work whilst it is day, for the night cometh* when
no man can work P Far be it from the writer of
this volume in any way to undervalue or decry
that knowledge, which, in a minister of the gospel,
the circumstances of the present times render so es-
sential. — These remarks only apply to those cases
in which years are expended in adding to a stock
already more than sufficient for present purposes,
without beginning to apply to any practical use that
which is so largely possessed ; and may affect such
institutions as, having for their object the prepara-
tion of young men for the work of the ministry, suf-
fer the zeal for God, and the love of souls, which
led them to its patronage, at least to lose a little of
its fire by years of dry scholastic disquisition, ere
they are suffered to go forth into the world and
expend them on their proper object — the conversion
of their dying fellow men.
With respect to Mr. Spencer, the world will
judge whether he began to preach too soon or not.
I believe that Liverpool, by far the most competent
to judge in this case, will, without hesitation, decide
H2
in the negative. Perhaps there are, who may he
disposed to say, " this was an exception." — Grant-
ed : — hut in such exceptions, Jet a similar liberty be
allowed. Where extraordinary gifts, attended by ex-
traordinary grace, so early develope themselves,
allow them a proportionally early exercise, nor rob
the church of God of an useful minister, who, ere
the period a cautious policy has fixed for the com-
mencement of his labour is arrived — may be sum-
moned to his rest.
On his return to Hoxton we find Mr. Speneer
preaching occasionally in the work-houses — an ad-
mirable school for young divines. Surely this is no
inconsiderable circumstance in which our dissent-
ing colleges are superior as schools of practical di-
vinity, to those of the establishment. There the
student emerges at once from the retirement of pri-
vate life to all the publicity of the sacred office ;
which sudden transition, to a delicate mind, must
often be attended with considerable pain, and may
lead, in the first few instances, to a confusion and
embarrassment most distressing to himself, and most
unfriendly to his prospects of future respectability
und usefulness. On the other hand, with us the
student gradually, almost imperceptibly, glides into
the ministry, and by continued, but slow enlarge-
ment, of the sphere in which he is allowed to move,
he rises from a few poor people in a work-house,
to address the most respectable auditories.
On his return to his father's house, for the Christ-
mas vacation, Mr. Spencer preached for the first
time at Hertford. It did not happen to him, as is
often the case, that he had no honour in his own
113
Cdimtry. Numbers pressed, urged no doubt, in the
first instance, by curiosity, to hear him : and those
who are accustomed to mark the influence of sim-
ilar circumstances upon a susceptible mind, will
enter a little into his emotions, when rising to ad-
dress, upon the most solemn of all subjects, a vast
multitude of his fellow-townsmen, amongst whom he
recognised many of his juvenile companions — the
several members of his own family — and, not the
least interesting object in the groupe, the venera-
ble matron who had early instructed him in the
principles of his mother tongue, and whose lot it
was to observe the first faint dawnings of a tal-
ent, then fast hastening to its fullest exercise and
strength. But long after the influence of novelty
may be supposed to have subsided, he continued
to excite the admiration of his native town. His
first sermon at Hertford was preached on the even-
ing of Sunday, December 20th, at the Rev. Mr.
Maslin's chapel, from Eph. v. 11, ' And have na
fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness.'
He preached again on the Wednesday evening fol-
lowing, and on the evening of Christmas day, on
which occasion his text was, Mich. v. 2, ' But thou 9
Bethlehem Ephratah, though thou be little among the
thousands of Judah,yet out of thee shall he come forth
unto me that is to be Rider in Israel, whose goings
forth have been of old, from everlasting.'
The passages of scripture selected by Mr. Spen-
cer, as the subjects of his earliest discourses, afford
another demonstration, in addition to many others,
of the general bias of his mind. They are such,
as one may well imagine a preacher panting for
*10
the salvation of his fellow men, wouM select for
the commencement of his public labours. The topics
which they suggest are of all others the most sol-
emn, as they are the most simple and the most
important in the whole range of inspired truth, ami
hence they were best adapted to the preachers
age, and the unlettered character of his auditors.
It seems, that in his earliest sermons there was
nothing of that parade and glare — nothing of that
excessive fondness of figures and love of imagery,
which too often mark the first compositions of
youthful preachers — preachers who, in a more ad-
vanced stage of their ministry, have not been less
respectable or useful than he.
Whether this is to be considered as an excellence
or defect, it is probable, with some, may be a mat-
ter of debate. Dr. Blair, (or rather Quintilian.
from whom he copies,*) in his remarks on the ear-
ly compositions of public speakers, urges in favour
of that exuberance of imagination and excess of
ornament, — that time and experience will prune all
this away, and in proportion as the fire of youth
declines, the glare of the composition will sink in-
to the settled lustre of maturer age. And hence
he argues, for an excessive indulgence of the imag-
ination at this period ; sinee by the time the pow-
ers are called into full aud steady exercise, they
will have undergone a certain train of discipline,
and have found their proper limits ; but if the coin-
• Quintilian again quotes from Cicero, the great master of
eloquence ; whose remarks on this subject are worthy his im-
mortal pen.— Yid. Quint. Just. Orat. lib. 11. ch. 4. et Cicero
de Orat. lib. 11. ch. 21.
115
position lias all the judicious sobriefv of thai ma-
turer age, amid the vigour aisd vivacity of youth,
what is it likely to be in the more advanced stages
of its exercise, but cold, insipid, and dull.
But surely all depends upon the nature of the
subject, aud the source whence the public orator is
lo draw the energy which must give animation to
his discourses. The fire of genius, the glow of im-
agination, must be the enkindling torches in the
senate — at the bar ; but though not altogether use-
Jess in the pulpit, yet they are not the lawful sour-
ces of animation there. It is not the blaze of ge-
nius, or the glow of imagination ; bat the sacred
iiame of fervent piety, — the holy kindlings of a
mind moved by principles derived from heaven, and
the generous efforts of a soul impelled by an in-
tense desire for the salvation of a dying world,
that must impart life and energy to the correct,
but glowing statements, — the warm and empassion-
ed appeals of the ambassador for Christ. Other
sources of animation may be exhausted by exercise,
and dried up by time ; but this can never fail.
It will remain the same when the head of the ven-
erable prophet is covered with hoary hairs, and
the body is sunk in the decrepitude of age. Nay,
as in the case of the apostle Paul, it will rise
into brighter radiance as he advances to the ter-
mination of his course, — a more ardent panting for
the salvation of mankind will mark his dying
hours, than that which attended his entrance on
his labours ; and with David, the last prayer his
spirit breathes will be for the universal diffusion
of that gospel, which it has been the business and
116
the honour of his life to preach — ' Blessed be the
Lord God. the God of Israel, who only doth wondrous
things. Jlnd blessed be his glorious name forever ;
and let the whole earth be filed with his glory. Amen
and Amen. 9
We now arrive at a period in Mr. Spencer's his-
tory? peculiarly critical and important. During
the vacation of Christmas, 1807, the Rev. Mr. Leif-
child, of Kensington, was supplying the pulpit at
Hoxton 4-hapel. One Sabbath afternoon, in Janu-
ary, Mr. Spencer being then returned to the acad-
emy from Hertford, Mr. L. expressed a wish that he
should assist him, in the public service, by reading
-the scriptures and engaging in prayer. The request
was granted, and an extract of a letter obligingly
addressed by that gentleman to me, will convey a
lively picture of the deep impression which his ap-
pearance and manner produced upon the large con-
gregation before whom he stood.
" But when he appeared in the pulpit — af-
ter the first emotions of surprise were over, and af-
ter the mistakes of some, who supposed that he was
a little boy belonging to the gallery, who, from ig-
norance or thoughtlessness, had gone up the pulpit
stairs, instead of those leading to his seat had been
corrected, so sweetly did he read the chapter,* so
* On the. evening of the following Sunday, Mr. L. addres-
sed young people ; when Mr. Spencer again conducted the
devotional part of the service. The chapter which he then
read was Ecclesiastes xii. A person since received into the
church at Hoxton, dated her first serious impressions from
the reading of that chapter, and the solemn prayer then of-
fered up.
in
earnestly, so scripturally. so experimentally, did he
engage in prayer, that for the whole six Sabbaths
afterwards lie became the chief magnet of attraction
to the place. The people now insisted upon it he
should preach. 1 need not name his subsequent
success. "
The entreaties of the people having prevailed,
Mr. Spencer, though contrary to the standing order
of the institution, was allowed to preach. It was a
delicate situation. Yet it was one to which he had
long and anxiously aspired. Indeed, so strong was
his desire for the public engagements of the minis-
try, that the fear of being long denied the gratifica-
tion of his wishes, on account of his youth, actually
preyed upon his spirits so severely as even to affect
his health. But it was not from the love of fame
or popular applause that he cherished this desire,
but from the hope of being early and extensively
useful; — as if urged by a presentiment of his im-
pending fate— immediately to commence those hon-
ourable labours from which he was to be called so
soon. — When he appeared in the pulpit at Hoxton,
a youth just seventeen years of age, he betrayed
none of that distressing anxiety which marks the
candidate for public approbation; but stood with all
the dignified composure, and spoke with all the un-
embarrassed energy of an ambassador for Christ.
His text was, Psalm xxxii. 6, 4 For this shall every
one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou
mayest be found ; surely in the floods of great waters
they shall not come nigh unto thee P At the close
of his discourse, the sentiments which dwelt upon
the lips aud countenance* of his auditors were thosa
118
of pleasure, admiration, and surprise. His exces-
sive youth — the simplicity of his appearance — the
modest dignity of his manner-— the sweetness of his
voice — the weight and importance of his doctrine —
and the force — the affection — and the fervour with
which he directed it, to the hearts and consciences
of those who heard him — charmed and delighted,
whilst thev edified. And retiring from the sanctu-
ary to the social circle, they dwelt alternately on
the loveliness of the preacher, and the importance of
the truths which they had heard from his lips.
Upon this scene the Christian student may, with
advantage, pause and meditate. Looking forward,
perhaps with considerable apprehension, to the pe-
riod of his public entrance on the labours of the
ministry, he may be anxious to ascertain what was
the secret spring — the hidden source, of that calra
composure and unfettered boldness, which charac-
terised the earliest addresses of this interesting
youth. To such then I can confidently say, — it was
not the proud consciousness of superior powers,—
cf erudition — of genius, or of eloquence ; but it was
the influence of a heart warmed with the love of
Christ, big with the vast moment of his solemn
theme, and panting with an ardour which no cir-
cumstances of difficulty could suppress, for the sal-
vation of shiners. Such an influence as this will
make the coward bold, and convert the most timid
and feeble into valiant and successful champions of
the cross. Before an influence like this, the love
of fame, — the glare of popularity, the opinions and
the plaudits of mankind retire. No consideration
remains but that of the worth of immortal souls,
119
and the importance of their salvation. This, under
the agency of the eternal Spirit, whose assistance
every faithful minister may with confidence expect)
will supply a closeness of appeal to arrest the at-
tention — furnish topics of discourse to inform the
judgment, and animated expostulations to warm the
heart. When the blaze of genius and of oratory is
extinguished, this will continue with a steady flame.
And whilst many, his acknowledged superiors in
talent and in literature, are left behind, the preach-
er in whose breast it glows will be conducted to
scenes of extensive usefulness, and the enjoyment of
an honourable renown.
Mr. Spencer now became the topic of general dis-
course, — the subject of universal inquiry. His name
spread far and wide. His danger became daily more
and more imminent. Letters pressed upon him,
filled with flattery — invitations arrived at the acad-
emy from all parts, for his services ; and he ap-
peared, as a friend, who witnessed his sudden and
extraordinary elevation, observed, like one standing
on the brow of a precipice, amid the most violent
gusts of wind. Disapprobation cannot be expressed
in terms too strong of the conduct which is usually
adopted by the religious public towards their favour-
ite, and especially their youthful preachers. And
the censure which may, in a lamentable degree ad-
mit of un' ersal application, falls with pre-eminent
propriety on the professors of religion in the me-
tropolis and its neighbourhood, There, indeed, by
the constant accession of fresh objects, to the sphere
in which they move, such a love of novelty — such a
fondness of variety — such a taste for something per-
120
petually original — is excited and constantly fed—
that whatever is uniform and solid, in the ministry
of their established and experienced pastors, while
it secures the attention and regard of the judicious
and discerning, is too often neglected as stale and
insipid by the more lively and enlightened class of
hearers. A new name is announced on the cover of
a Magazine, or from the pulpit of some celebrated
chapel, and thither the unstable multitude direct
their steps. — They sit in solemn judgment on the
preacher's manner — his appearance — his action, and
Lis voice ; for amongst too many, alas ! it is to be
lamented, that the solemn truths which he delivers
are but secondary objects of regard. If there should
be nothing striking in his manner — nothing melo-
dious in his voice, — nothing singular in his appear-
ance — nothing peculiar in his system — and nothing
particularly favourable in the circumstances of his
introduction to the pulpits of the metropolis, there
he may continue his appointed period, and when it
has expired, return to the peaceful village or the
quiet town, where it is his lot to labour —
" The world forgetting' — by the world forgot."
On the other hand, with this class of hearers tlit
preacher who secures their admiration instantly bo-
comes their idol. As if irresistibly impelled to ex-
tremes, they lavish on him the warmest eulogies
and adulation, often too palpable to be endured.
Forgetting that he is a man of like passions with
themselves, they heap their honours on his head as
though he could remain insensible to the plaudits
they bestow, and perfectly superior to the influenee
1M
•of every principle of pride. The following lines of
the inimitable Cowper too well express the senti-
ments which in these remarks must suggest them-
selves to every thinking mind, not to obtain inser-
tion here : —
" O Popular Applause ! what heart of man
Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ?
The wisest and the best feel urgent need
Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales ;
But swell'd into a gust — who then, alas !
With all his canvass spread and inexpert,
And therefore heedless, can withstand thy power ?
Praise from the rivell'd lips of worthless bald
Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean
And craving Poverty, and in the bow
Respectful of the smutch'd artificer,
Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb
The bias of the purpose. How much more
Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite,
In language soft as Adoration breathes ?
Ah spare your Idol ! think him human still,
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too.
Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire."
But the preaching of Mr, Spencer, even in his
earliest discourses, was not of that light and mere-
tricious kind which may secure the temporary* ad-
* I believe that general experience will justify the observa-
tion, that however attendant circumstances ma}' contribute,
in the first instance, to render an individual popular, nothing
but sterling worth can secure its perpetuity ; and whenever
tho preaching of a popular minister has endured, without
injury to his reputation, the ordeal of a ten or twenty years
trial, he may safely be regarded as possessing an excellence
superior to any thing his manner could exhibit. But I feel
the delicacy of the topic I have thus ventured to introduce,
41
tan
Miration of the wandering and unsettled. It pos-
sessed much of the solid, — the experimental, and ju-
dicious ; and this secured him the attention and
esteem of those, whose approbation any man would
esteem it an honour to possess. But this only tend-
ed to heighten his danger. God, however, gave
him grace equal to his day. His letters during his
popularity in London breathe the same spirit of hu-
mility as that which marked his earlier correspon-
dence ; and a piety seldom surpassed in fervour and
sincerity tended to preserve him steady in the midst
of that tempestuous sea, upon whose billows, though
young and inexperienced, it was his lot to ride.
Numerous and pressing however as were the invi-
tations from different parts of the metropolis and its
neighbourhood, yet Mr. Spencer did not preach
again in London (except in the work -houses, which
the students regularly supplied, and also once in a
imall chapel in Hackney Road) until September.
In the meanwhile his talent for preaching had ample
exercise in various parts of the country, which dur-
ing this period he was allowed to visit. So that,
from January 7th to September 8th he preached no
less than sixty times. The following are the princi-
pal places which were then favoured with his la-
boars : — Roydon, Godmcinchestcr, Rlpton, Bunting*
and gladly refer to illustrations of the same subject by more
experienced and far abler hands. — See Fuller's Life of Penrce ;
and Jay's Life of Cornelius Winter. Books in which examples,
the one of more public, the other of more retired, but not
less transcendent excellence, seem to live before us for our
instruction. To every student for the Christian ministry
thr.y must prove an invaluable treasure.
123
ford. Hertford* Dorking. Uumfbrd, Harlow, Roysio
Hadham, Hays, Chigwell, and Mill-Hill. At all these
places the attention he excited was considerable, and
the impression he left remains uith the people to this
day.*
Mr. Spencer's second sermon at Hoxton chapel
was delivered on the evening of Thursday, Septem-
ber 8th. It confirmed the opinion of his excellence
produced by the first. His text was, Acts x. 38,
i He is Lord of «//.'
The general sentiment of approbation and delight
at first excited by his youthful appearauce and his
extraordinary pulpit talents, was now deepened and
established, and he began to preach pretty exten-
sively in the pulpits of the metropolis and its neigh-
bourhood. On Sunday, September 18th, we find
him in the pulpit at Holywell Mount chapel, and on
the Sunday following in that at Kennington chapel ;
and on the afternoon of Sunday, December 13th, he
supplied the chapel in Old Gravel Lane, Wapping.f
During the autumn of this year he also visited sev*
eral parts of the country immediately surrounding
London ; and he preached, among other places, at
Upminster, TJpsom, Guildford, Roydon, and High
Wycombe.
With respect to the wisdom and propriety of per-
^ witting such extensive public labours, in one so
1 For specimens of his early pulpit compositions, see Ap-
pendix, No. II.
f The church assembling in Old Gravel Lane formerly sat
under the ministry of the late Rev. Noah Hill, hut now enjoy
the pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. Hooper, one of the tutor;
the college at Hoxton.
young, and at so early a stage of his academical
course, there will be perhaps a diversity of opi-
nion. On the general question, in which this is
but an individual case, there can be but one sen-
timent. Nothing tends more to dissipate the mind,
than much travelling and much society ; and par-
ticularly injurious to the fixed and laborious habits
of a student's life is that kind of intercourse with
society, which the young minister, in his occasion-
al visits, usually obtains. The esteem in which,
for the most part the name of a minister is held,
in the circles which he enters, secures him an at-
tention and an ease by far too flattering not to be
injurious; whilst the refined and fascinating man-
ners of some societies but ill prepare the mind for
the imperatively severe characters of academic life.
But perhaps a far more serious object of regard
is the time which is thus necessarily and irretrieva-
bly lost to the great and avowed object of his pur-
suit. — It is impossible to take a review ef the past
year of Mr. Spencer's life, and number up the sev-
eral places at which he has preached — at some of
them two or three times, whilst others he visited more
than once, calculating thjir respective distances
Prom Hoxton, and the time necessarily occupied in
travelling, together with the many hours, perhaps
tiays, which must have been consumed in preparing
the discourses there delivered — without being struck
with a conviction, of the immense loss which iu a
literary point of view he must have sustained; and
the pursuit of literature is, after all, the professed
object of our dissenting colleges. Considering too,
that this was but Mr. Spencer's second year of stu-
ny, and connecting this with the shortness of the
term he had to stay, and his exceeding youth, the
impression is yet deepened. But Mr. Spencer's was
an extraordinary case. His fort was the compo-
sition and delivery of sermons. He was at home
and happy only in this sacred work. He seemed
hut to live for this ohject. Other objects he might
contemplate, with respect and even esteem, excited
by an impression of their utility and excellence — ..
en this his heart perpetually dwelt with a fervent
and impassioned love. It was evidently for this
God had especially designed him 5 and for the work
he had to accomplish, and the early account he had
to render, — all perhaps are now convinced that he
was not suffered to begin too soon. For one whose
day of usefulness has proved so short, and over
whom the night of death so early and so suddenly
has shed its gloom, we cannot but rejoice that the
first dawn was devoted to his honourable labour,
and not even a solitary hour neglected, from the
commencement to the termination of his career.*
Mr. Spencer preached again at Hoxton chapel
on Christmas day, morning and evening ; and also
delivered an address, on the following evening, at
* A contemplation of the facts connected with the inter-
esting 1 , but melancholy history of Spencer, may however tend
to shew, that, whilst much preaching and much travelling'
are to be depricated as evils, especially in the earlier stages
of a student's course, yet that no specific rules can be estab-
lished in this case for universal and invariable application.
On the propriety of the thing, in every case of students
under their care, the tttors are the best qualified to de-
cide.
*11
-ilie prayer meeting. A day or two after he left
London for Brighton, and preached his first ser-
mon in that celebrated seat of gaiety and fashion on
the evening of Thursday, December 29th, at the
Countess of Huntingdon's chapel, from Zach. vi. 12,
6 Behold the man whose name is the branch, and he
shall build the temple of the Lord? On Sunday.
1st January, 180.>, he preached in the afternoon at
the Rev. Mr. Style*' chapel, and again in the even-
ing at the Countess'.
I am the more particular in marking the date of
his first visit to Brighton, as it commences a new
year, and forms also a most important epoch in his
history. The interesting and endeared connexions
which he afterwards formed there, tend to throw
a new and brilliant light upon his character;
whilst they shed a softer air of melancholy around
the circumstances of his early and lamented fate !*
Alas ! of what moment to the Christian minister
is the formation of connexions such as these. Del-
icate as the subject may be, and ill qualified as I
teel I am to enter fully into its discussion, I yet can-
not suffer it to pass without some observations on
its vast importance. — By imprudence here, how many
have destroyed, if not their character, yet to an
alarming extent their usefulness and comfort. Upon
the partner which a minister selects much of his
happiness depends. He must be indeed a child of
* Those who knew Spencer, will enter fully into the mean-
ing of this paragraph. 1 owe it however to those who knew
him not to say, that tenderness to feeling's 1 should dicudto
wound, conipels me to draw a veil over one of the, most in*
teresting scenes of his life.
127
sorrow, who with a heart broken by disappointment
and a brow clouded by care — such cares and dis-
appointments as too frequently impart a character
of gloom to many a pious pastor's life — finds no
relief in his domestic circle, and seeks in vain for
the soothing influence of sympathy in the individual
whom he has chosen to be a 'help meet for himS
The important subject thus reluctantly though
unavoidably introduced, distributes itself into many
hranches, each interesting in its kind, on each of
which age and experience might with considerable
propriety descant; and however unwilling I might
be to enter more largely into the discussion, yet did
I think myself sufficiently possessed of either, I
would certainly reprobate in the severest terms that
rash and thoughtless haste which too often marks
the decision of students and youthful ministers in
this respect, and which too frequently leads to set-
tled distress, — final ruin,- — or shameful infidelity !
To the honour of Spencer be it recorded, that his
choice in the first instance displayed his wisdom :
his uniform attachment until death, — his constancy!
Mr. Spencer preached again at the Countess of
Huntingdon's chapel at Brighton on Thursday even-
ing, January 5th, and left that place on the follow-
ing day. On the ensuing Sunday he preached at
Hoiloway, morning and afternoon ; and on the even-
ing of Tuesday the 10th, addressed an immense
congregation from the pulpit of that truly excellent
man the Rev. Rowland Hill, at Surry chapel. The
subject of his discourse was Dent, xxxiii. 3, ' Tea he
loved the people ; all his saints are in thy hand, and
they sat down at thy feet, every one shall receive of
thy words P
128
Between this date and the following ntidsmnraeiy
his labours appear to have been, in point both of
number and success, truly astonishing. He now
preached much in and about London, and wherever
his name was announced, the crowd that flocked to
his ministry, proved how extensive and deep the im-
pression was which it had excited. Besides occupy-
ing many of the most respectable pulpits in the me-
tropolis, during this period, he visited and preach-
ed in the following places : Guildford, Epsom,
Worthing, Barking, Soy don, Dorking, Bunting-
ford, Winclrthore-Hill, Saffron Walden, and Hert-
ford.
Daring his stay at Worthing, which was in the
month of Februarv, he made several excursions to
Brighton, which became more endeared to him by
every visit. The attachment was mutual. His min-
istry excited universal attention : multitudes pressed
to hear him. The public prints deela-red their ad-
miration of his powers 5 and the private circle for-
got the trifling topics of the day, intent upon the
discussion of his rare and extraordinary talents.
More especially did he bind to him, in affectionate
remembrance, the hearts of the young, by the
warmth, simplicity, and affection of his addresses to
them : and in no place which was honoured by his
labours, \uis his worth more i'ully appreciated in
life, or his loss more deeply and universally lament-
ed in death !
On the evening of Thursday, the 18th of May,
he preached again at Hoxton chapel. His text on
that occasion was Isaiah Ixi. 10, ' J ivill greatly
rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my-
129
God ; for he hath cloathed me with the garments of
salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of right-
eousnessS
But by so much preaching and fatigue, his strength
became exhausted and his health impaired; and dur-
ing the midsummer vacation, the committee super-
intending the stations of the preaching students, ap-
pointed him to spend some weeks at Dorking, in
Surrey, where the labour Mas but small, the retire-
ment deep, the country beautiful, and the air salu-
brious ! To this place he went in the beginning of
J«iy, — having first paid a visit to his family at
Hertford, and preached again in his native town.
At Dorking he was committed to the care of Mrs.
Alexander, a kind and pious matron, whose hospita-
ble atteution to all the servants of Christ who have
had the happiness to repose beneath her roof, ren-
ders her worthy the appropriate epithet of — " Moth-
er in Israel." The praises of such pious women
are, and ought to he, in ail the churches. Happy
is that congregation which possesses one or two such,
valuable and useful characters. To the youthful
preachers who may be commissioned from their re-
spective academies to labour for awhile in the con-
gregations to which they belong, they often prove
an inestimable blessing. By their timely assidui-
ties, not unfrequently, diseases the most serious and
alarming may be averted, by which valuable minis-
ters might have been early snatched from the church
and from the world ; and, at any rate, those little
offices of unaffected kindness, in the performance of
which they so much excel, will tend to soothe the
anxieties by which, in early life, many a delicate
frame is prematurely wasted and impaired!
13©
For Spencer too the spot was admirably chosen.
Nothing could better suit his fondness for retire-
ment, and love of social or solitary walks. I ain
not a stranger to the scenery — I once visited it, like
him, for relaxation ; and the remembrance of those
happy days, in a thousand pleasing pictures and en-
chanting forms, crowds at this moment on my mind.
The country is sufficiently bold and varied to inspire
with ideas of grandeur and magnificence, though
not so romantic and vast, as to excite astonishment
and terror. From the summit of abrupt and lofty
hills, clothed with luxuriant foliage, the delighted
eye may roam at leisure over woods and valleys,
that will not yield in fruitfulness and beauty to the
fairest plains of Italy; and in deep embowered glens,
made cool and fragrant by meandering streams, the
mind may yield to melancholy musings and to solemn
thought — so unbroken is the silence, — so profound
the solitude:*
* In one of these retired dells, where art has followed up
the rude design of nature, a rustic temple, unadorned and
simple as the genius of the place, affords to the weary wan-
derer its temporary rest. A grateful poet has left some trib-
utary tines in honour of the scene, of which they are so de-
scriptive, that I hope I shall be pardoned if 1 introduce them
here : —
** Stranger, whencesoe'er you come,
Welcome to this rustic dome ;
Welcome to the hill — the glade ;
Welcome to the forest shade.
To our simple homely fare,
Come and welcome — banish care ;
Climb our hills, and health inhale,
Borne upon the scented gale,
131
Baring his stay at Dorking it was his happiness
to form a friendship the most intimate and endeared
with Mr. J. Kaddon, of London ; and on the return
of that gentleman to town, Mr. Spencer began an
epistolary correspondence with him, which continued
till his death. A valuable assortment of these letters
have been kindly put into my hands, and with the
Bury in this wooded glen,
All the cares of busy men ;
While the streams that round us roll,
Sweetly murmuring-, soothe the soul !
See, the glorious orb of day
Gilds us with his parting- ray ;
Whilst above the woods afar
Sweetly shines the Ev'ning- Star.
Stranger, rest thee here awhile,
Till the morning- sun shall smile,
Then explore the fairy scene,
Lovely as a waking- dream.
Worn and wasted by disease,
Pale and languid — ill at ease,
Say, does health thy care employ —
Health, the fost'ring nurse of joy ?
Come, and chase her on our hills;
Meet her by our pulling rills ;
Woo her mid our shadowing trees;
Catch her on the balmy breeze !
Health and peace, and joy are here ;
Come and welcome — banish care —
Cease thy wand'rings — lose thy woes,
Yield to pleasure and repose !"
132
greater part of them I shall enrich these passes. The
following is, I believe, the first in the series :—
No 15.
TO MR. JOIIX HADDOX.
Dorking, July 25tJu 1809.
i; MY WORTHY FRIEND)
" I know no oilier way of expressing the
pleasure your letters and your society have afforded
me, than by endeavouring to repay your kindness, or
at least by shewing you that I am sensible of the
obligations under which I am laid bv you. The
pleasant interviews, the truly social walks, and the
various other enjoyments which we experienced to-
gether, have left an impression of attachment to your-
self on my mind, which I am persuaded will not be
easily obliterated. The country is indeed as pleasant
in itself now, as it was the week before last ; yet,
believe me, it is not half so much enjoyed by me as it
was then. — The same streams indeed glide pleasant-
ly along — the same hills majestically rise — the same
enlivening prospects strike the eye, and pervade the
soul, with admiration — and every thing around me
seems to say, ' Tis Surrey still ;' but there is a sad
deficiency in all my perambulations — it is, < that I
am all alone.'* — Yesterday I went to Brockham ;
* This is a quotation from a beautiful poem of Henry
Kirke White's, to whose charming- productions Spencer
was mot ardently attached. The poem itself so accurate-
ly describes the state of his own mind, and the mclancholr
133
b*it there was no Haddon to meet me on my way
thither, or to retain with me any part of the way
musings in which he indulged, in his solitary walks, when
deprived of the pleasure of his friend's society, that I need
not apologize for its introduction here : —
SOLITUDE.
IT is not that my lot is low,
That bids this silent tear to flow ;
It is not grief that bids me moan,
It is, that I am all alone.
Tn woods and glens I love to roam,
When the tir'd hedger hies him home ;
Or by the wood-land pool to rest,
When pale the star looks on its breast.
Vet when the silent evening sighs,
With hallow'd airs and symphonies,
My spirit takes another tone,
And sighs that it is all alone.
The autumn leaf is sear and dead,
It floats upon the water's bed ;
1 would not be a leaf to die
Without recording sorrow's sigh !
The woods and winds with sullen wail,
Tell all the same unvaried tale ;
I've none to smile when I am free,
And when I sigh, to sigh with me !
Yet in my dreams a form I view,
That thinks on me, and loves me too :
I start, and when the vision's flown,
I weep that I am all alone.
To these mild complainings of this sainted bard, a reply,
characterised by the same tenderness of thought and ele-
12
131
home. Last Tuesday evening Mr. Moore rery po-
litely offered to take me to Epsom, to hear Mr. Clay-
ton the next day ; which offer I most willingly ac-
cepted. On the whole, we had rather a pleasant
day. Mr. George Clapton preached on Mat. xxi.
28. It may perhaps give you pleasure to hear, that
I preached very comfortably last Lord's day from
the new bible, which is exactly the thing. I should
know very little of the trials and difficulties of life,
Avere I always to live as I now do. I really feel
sometimes as if I needed something to quicken me to
diligence, and put the graces of the Spirit in exer-
cise, which, I am afraid, were I long to glide down
life's stream so easily as I now do, Mould begin to
die. Ease is a dangerous foe to the prosperity of
gahce of expression, lias been furnished by the pen of Mr.
Josiah Concler, of London : —
OX READING THE POEM ON SOLITUDE,
In the 2d vol. of II. K. White's Remains-.
Jij^T art thou thus indeed alone ?
Quite unbefriended — all unknown ?
And hast thou then His name forgot,
Who form'd thy frame and fix'd thy lot l
Is not his voice in evening's g-ale ?
Beams not with him the star so pale*
fs there a leaf can fade and di~,
Unnoticed by hia watchful eye?
Each fluttering hope, each anxious fear —
Each lonely sigh, each silent tear,
1 o thine Almighty Friend is known :
And thou, thou art "all alone !"
135
religion in the soul, and opposition of some kind is
essentially necessary for us who profess a religion
which is described as a race to he run ; as a battle to
he fought, and which is represented to us by every
metaphor which gives us the idea of active labour
and unceasing exertion. I hope to have the happi-
ness of frequently meeting with you after my return
•to town; and I have the pleasure to inform you,
that my appointments favour such intention. Mr.
Wilson has written to inform me, that I shall preach
in town for five Sabbaths after the vacation. The
manuscripts you sent highly delight me. Mrs. Smith
wishes me to leave Herbert with her, to which I
know you will not object. I continue about the same
in my health as I was when you lift me ; and am
very thankful that ?> > e I have not to preach so many
times as at several other places. That the good will
of Him who dwelleth in the bush nnv ever counts-
nance and console you; that the divine Spirit may
ever lead vou into all the truth ; that you may possess
every evidence that vou have found favour in the
sight of the Lord: and that Christ Jesus may be
your eternal portion, is my humble, earnest prayer.
Let us hope hereafter to behold his face together,
in a world where we shall be liable to change and
separation no more, but where we shall be enclosed
in glory, changeless as his own. This is the desire
of one who can truly call himself
" Your's most affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCER/'
*• Mf kind hosfess desires to be respectfully re-
membered to you. I expe&t I shall be in town
next Tuesday."
186
.Mr. Spencer left Dorking after the last Sabbath
in July, and preached the six following Sundays iu
and about London. The places at which he labour-
ed during these six weeks were White-Row, Pell-
street, Jewin-street, Camden chapel, Adelphi-chapel,
and Hoxton-ehapel. At Jewin-street he preached
four Sabbaths, out of the six, afternoons and evenings.
In the meanwhile his health still continued but indif-
ferent, and indeed so much exertion both of mental
and of physical strength was but ill calculated to pro-
mote its vigour. His mind however seemed every day
to grow in activity and zeal. In the pulpit, — in so-
ciety, he w as ail animation and life. Like most who
are the victims of much nervous irritability, his fio.v
of spirits was excessive, which frequently led to un-
generous and merciless observations from those, who
gither had not the wisdom or the candour to attribute,
what might appear as levity in him, to its real cause,
it is indeed an unhappy circumstance, when such is
the natural tendency of a man's mental constitution,
and from nothing perhaps have young ministers suf-
fered more than from this. At the same time, it is
a shani^ and scandal to the Christian world, that
there should be so many, who, professing to be the
friends of students and youthful preachers, encourage
and excite this unhappy bias, for their awn amuse-
ment, and are then the first to censure the youth
ihcy have betrayed !
But where such is the natural disposition of a
pious and devoted mind, its exercise in company is
often followed by the keenest anguish and the deep-
est melancholy, in hours of solitude and reflection.
The severe and maliguant eeflsyjrej; should rejneov
f37
her, that lie is not omnipresent ; and that there
may be scenes in the retired lite of the character
lie injures, which would put him to the blush !
These remarks have been suggested by some pas-
sages in the following letter.
No. 16.
TO MR. JOHX HADDOX.
>
ffthvton, August 15, 1S09.
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
t; I am sorry to inform you, that it is not in
my power to gratify yourself, to please our friends,
or to fulfil my own wishes, by devoting any even-
ing in the week to visiting. I really cannot do
it. My engagements this week are such as per-
emptorily to require my continuance at home, most
likely till Sabbath day, at any rate till Saturday
afternoon. I am obliged to those kind friends who
expressed their concern about my exertions. I feel
that I am not worthy of their sympathy. M.iy
their compassion lead them to pray for me, that I
may be strengthened with all might by the Spir-
it in my inner man ; and that He whose pleasure
it is to increase strength to those that have no might,
would help the infirmities of one who is weaker
than a bruised reed, and yet has undertaken au
office, to the discharge of which an angel is in-
competent. My health is certainly in a better
condition than it has been, but I am afraid I am still
far from well: my head frequently aches, and I
*12
138
feel a sickness in my stomach. These are some of
the miseries that flesh is heir to ; but it is a joy-
ful thought, that in the kingdom of glory our bo-
dies will be no longer susceptible of pain, nor
our minds of disquietude. Perfect health, com-
posure, and joy, will be our happy lot when we*
see each other in a better world. And can we not
hope that we shall do this ; and that forever we
shall adore our common Saviour together ? The
leadings of his providence first brought us acquaint-
ed with each other; and the methods of his grace
will, I hope, lead us on to glory, and in our way
thither make us helps to each other. Pray for m/ > ,
that my diligence may be excited; my levities check-
ed ; and my spirituality promoted. After all I say
against the world, I must confess with shame that
I am verv like many of the men of the world in this
respect ; that I indulge in a lightness of disposi-
tion which is inconsistent with the character of a
Christian, and makes us resemble those who nev-
er think of eternity and the solemnities of religion.
Ah ! my dear friend and brother, I have experien-
ced in my short life many a bitter hour, occasion-
ed by my own folly in this respect. But what a
scandal is it to a professing Christian, that nata-
ral dispositions and surrounding temptations should
overcome a principle of grace in the heart — a prin-
ciple which ought ever to operate powerfully in
weaning us from folly, and making us every day
more and more serious and holy. Never do you
be afraid of cautioning, or reproving me, but give
me opportunity to prove that ' Faithful are the word's
of a friend P I have felt more, in reference to
yourself, than I have ever yet expressed. Mure
affection for you ; more gratitude that Providence
placed you in my way ; and more determination to
make you my counsellor aud friend — than I have
ever yet told you. The Lord help us to strength-
en each other's hands in his good ways. I shall
not like your letters so well if you do not direct
them yourself. This you will say is folly, but I
cannot help it. Adieu !
'•Your's affectionately,
"THOS. SPEXCER."
4 * X. B. Saturday afternoon, if possible, I will
sec you.*'
The history of the following month is from the
pen of his most intimate friend.
" At his return [from Dorking] he supplied Jew-
iu-street meeting for a month, in the afternoons and
evenings, where the attention he excited will not
be easily forgotten. Before he left, numbers eould not
get admittance. The church were very anxious that
he should settle among them,* but their desire
could not be complied with. I have heard him
blamed respecting that business ; but it was only
by those who did not know the circumstances of
the case. I was in the possession of his heart
in that affair, and it would be unjust to his memo-
ry not to declare, that he was free from blame. II is
* The church was then under the pastoral care of the
Rev. Timothy Priestley, a truly venerable divine, whose
age and infirmities rendered the aid of a colleague ne-
cessarv.
140
affectionate spirit keenly felt for them in their dis-'
appointment. < The good people at Jewin-street, ?
said he, in a letter to me, < have a strong claim up-
on our prayers ;' and it was to sooth their minds
that he composed his sermon upon Isaiah xxxiii. 20.
The time of his supplying at Jewin-street was very
pleasant to me. I claimed the whole of his time
between and after the services, which inclined him
to enjoy that retirement which was so congenial to
his lowly soul. When going to preach no one saw
him. — I used to knock at his door — -give in his re-
freshment — and watch the time for him. — It was
from the mount of communion that he always went
to the pulpit, and this caused his sermons to shine
gloriously. — Frequently in passing to the house of God
we kept perfect silence, while his mind has heen
so entirely absorbed, that I have found a necessi-
ty for guiding him; and after worship he loved to
stop as long as he conveniently could, that he
might pass away unnoticed. — But such was the
character of Spencer — his deep humility — fervent
piety — and amiable simplicity, that I am fully con-
vinced it cannot be fairly stated without suspicion
of exaggeration ; and I must confess, that I should
have found great difficulty in giving fallen nature
eredit for the excellencies, which, from the closest
inspection I saw resident in that truly illustrious
and holy youth."
The following letter, written on the Saturday pre.
vious to the last Sabbath of his supplying Jewin-
street chapel, discloses his feelings with respect to
the church in that place, and will prove to the peo-
444
pie with how much affection he wrote and thought
of them. Nor will it be less valuable for the spirit
of filial love aud duty which it breathes.
No. i7.
TO MR. JOHN H ADDON.
September 2, 1SO0.
W MY DEAR FRIEND,
" Truly sorry am I in any ease to disap-
point you, and yet it must be so as it respects this
evening. — Before seven o'clock I am necessitated to
go from home, nor can I return till late in the even-
ing. You ask, 6 can you not give up this engage-
ment ?' I answer, this is impossible ; because no-
thing short of filial duty is the cause of my absence
from home. This morning I received a letter from
my dear father, telling me that he must be in town to-
day, although he has been travelling in the country
all the week, and he wishes me to meet him this
evening, at half- oast six o'clock. This. I am sure
will be regarded as a sufficient reason by you, and
nothing short of such a reason could induce me to
go out at all this evening, for to tell you the truth,
I am very unwell. My head and my side have suf-
fered exceedingly for a day or two past, more espe-
cially to-day. Nor are my prospects of tiie morrow
of the most eniUening kind. In fact, too, my spirits
are vi^vy low. The sight of my aged parent may
perhaps revive them, am! make * my heart rejoice*
even mineP Mr. \V. has just told me, that he has
Informed Mr. 8. that 1 cammt supply them any lens-
±4%
t»r than to-morrow. The opinion of the committee,
&c, goes against them ! For my part, I can only
say, * My God, thy will be done P You will see me
at Jewin-street in the afternoon, but whether able
or incapacitated to perform my duty there, I know
not. Pray for me, that much grace may communi-
cate to me sufficient strength,
" Whether well or ill, cheerful or melancholy, I
am yours affectionately,
« THOMAS SPENCER/-
Having completed his engagements at Jewin-
street, Spencers labours became again miscellane-
ous and widely diffused. On Sabbath day the 17th.
he preached at Roydon, a village near Hertford,,
when he availed himself of the opportunity which
this appointment afforded him of visiting his family.
1 cannot but conceive the bliss which such occasional
interviews would cause in that little circle, which
had once the happiness to call him their's. To them
the recollection of those happy hours devoted to
social or sacred intercourse with their departed
friend, must yield a soothing, though a melancholy
pleasure. Nor is the reflection less honourable to
his memory, than it is consolatory to their minds.
In the midst of the unbounded popularity which he
enjoyed — surrounded by new and splendid connex-
ions — the admiration of listening crowds, each eager
to express his approbation — all ambitious of his
friendship — he ever thought with the wannest affec-
tion upon those whom he had left in that obscurity
from which he had himself emerged. — Gladly did
he -vi/.n the opportunity, when it occurred, of retiring
from the public eye to taste again the tranquil plea^
sures of his home, and enjoy the interchange of all
those sacred and delightful feelings, which strength-
en and endear the ties and obligations of social or
domestic life. — He was not unduly elated by his pop-
ularity. In his new associations he did not forget
his kindred and his father's house. — His family did
not sink in his regard, in proportion as he rose to
eminence. The voice of universal praise did not
drown the milder whispers of paternal love. — But
in a heart whose best affections were devoted to the
noblest objects, and to which new scenes of exertion
were perpetually unfolding, the family at Hertford
held an honourable and distinguished place. The
most extensive public engagements, are not incom-
patible with the retired duties of private life — and
the cares and responsibilities of the most laborious
ministry may be sustained and discharged, without
absorbing those affectionate regards so justly claim-
ed by parental kindness and fraternal love. *Tis
true, that as a Christian, and in his oilicial capaci-
ty, every believer in Jesus is to the faithful min-
ister a father — a mother — a sister — and a brother.
But as a man the relations of life exist for him —
and the feelinsrs of humanity must be common to
him too. A heart from which these ties arc rudely
severed — is but ill adapted to that soothing influence
by which the office of the ministry becomes a source
of comfort to the wretched.; — and a man whose bo-
som is a stranger to the tender sympathies of hu-
man life — alike insensible to joy or sorrow — may
with propriety administer the cold rites of a Stoical
philosophy — but must ever be a living contrast t«
144
the religion of Jesus — a system whose characteristic
spirit is that of the purest and tenderest philan-
thropy.
Before his departure for Roydon, the following
letter was addressed by Mr. Spencer to his friend.
The observations at. the beginning upon Christian
boldness are judicious — and, though ignorant of the
particular circumstances which might have called
them forth, cannot fail to prove interesting and in-
structive.
No. 18.
TO MR. JOHN HADDON.
Thursday Evening, Sept. 14, 1800,
A MY DEAR FRIEND,
ii I know you wish me to write you a great
deal ; hut I must plead the old excuse — want of time ;
fori find that <-, instead of calling to-morrow
morning, must have this directly, and I have but
this minute left the chapel. You tell me your 'mind
recoils from public duty, however plain and clear,'
and you need not to be told that this is a pity ; and
in this respect you do not display that Christian
boldness which is after all consistent with genuine
humility — which the apostles displayed and enforc-
ed — which the Bible every where recommends — and
which is well calculated to evidence our decided at-
tachment to Jesus and his cause. It shall be my
part, however, not to reproach you for the want
of it, but to carry your wants before our Father's
throne, and entreat him to fill you with all holy
ii5
VoWness and Christian courage 5 whilst at the same
time I would most earnestly entreat you to consider
the foolishness of your fears : the little need we
have to seek to please our fellow-creatures, or to
dread them, and above all the constant inspection
ef Him who said, whosoever shall confess me before
men, him shall the Son of Man also confess before
his holy angels. But I am persuaded that you are
not ashamed of Jesus 5 yet there is great need for
us all to ask ourselves repeatedly, ' am I fully on
the Lord's side ?' because this very examination it-
self produces the best effects, as it prompts us to
give evidence before others of the realitv of our
hope, and it brings us near to God, who can make
us strong in the graee that is in Christ Jesus, and
faithful even unto death. Your letters always affect
me ; your company you know delights me ; and what
shall I say of your attachment to me, but that it
meets return. I am often indeed induced to believe
that you are too careful of me, and too much con-
cerned about me. Expressions of gratitude on my
part from my mouth or pen I know you do not want)
therefore I shall not trouble you with them. My
mind is perfectly at case about the present or future
laws of the house, as well as about any situation af-
ter I have filled it. O that I may be stayed on
God! I often think what a pity it will be, if from
our friendship there should arise no good effect ;
however here I am wrong, because I am myself a
witness that good effects have arisen to we; but I
long that to us there may be opened fresh sources of
comfort and joy in God, and that we may then be
made abundant blessings to each other. — I am going
13
146
h) preach next Sabbath at Roydon, a village near
Hertford, where I have reason to hope God has own-
ed and blessed my unworthy labours before. May
he do so again. Perhaps I may go to Hertford to-
morrow afternoon, as it was the place of my nativi-
ty, and is now the residence of my dear father, my
sisters, brother, and mother-in-law. I could say-
much more, (though in the same feeble and desul-
tory style) but you perceive my paper is full. I
cannot expect to see you at all till Tuesday. The
coach comes in town on Monday evening, about half
past six. If I can, I will walk then to Fleet-street-
44 Adieu, my dear friend,
44 THOMAS SPENCER."
From this period to that of his first visit to Liv-
erpool, I am not in possession of any remarkable
occurrences in Mr. Spencer's history. At any rate.
1 am aware of none which tend to illustrate any
particular feature of his character — or of such a na-
ture as to warrant their publication to the world.
But there yet remain many interesting letters to his
friend, Mr. Haddon, which will tend very much to
supply the want of a connected narrative — and that
friend who during this period, enjoyed the most inti-
mate acquaintance with him — and obtained a most
accurate knowledge of his character, has furnished
me with a series of anecdotes and observations,
which will make the reader familiar with the man,
— and most strikingly exhibit the holy, humble and
fervent bias of his niiud. For the present I shall
147
content myself with making a selection from these
letters, with such occasional remarks as may be
necessary to illustrate their subjects or occasions 5
whilst the characteristic sketches above alluded to,
will occupy some of the succeeding pages.
No. 19.
TO MR. JOHN HADDON.
Hoxton, Oct. 12, 1809.
tt MY DEAR FRIEND,
" With pleasure it is that I inform you, that
I am appointed for Vauochall. I feel pleasure, be-
cause this assignation gives us another opportunity
of enjoying each other's society. I have not yet
written to those friends in the country, but intend do-
ing it to-morrow. May the young lady die in sueli
a peaceful and happy state of mind, as shall, instead
of suffering the survivors to sorrow as those who
have no hope, rather give them to say — Behold how
he loved her! I mentioned the circumstance to Mr.
W. at the same time stating the wish of the Roydon
people that I might supply them on Sabbath day.
He told me it could not be complied with, assigning
as a reason, that I was given out at Vauxhall. As
the affair now stands, I am quite satisfied, because I
wisli to resolve all my appointments into the will of
the Head of the Church. — < Where He appoints, I'll
gp„^ — Of all evih, I pray to be particularly delivered
from leaning to my own understanding, and indulg-
ing my own wayward will. May obstinacy never
148
characterize me. May grace always be given rne to
suppress it when it rises. — To these requests I know,
that from your inmost soul you say, Jlmen. One of
our fellow students has just delivered us a good ser-
mon from—' The righteous hath hope in his death.- —
I enjoyed his sermon much more than I generally do
those which are delivered to us on a Thursday even-
ing. This was so experimental — so scriptural — so
pious, that it found its way to my heart. May you
and I, whenever we shall come to die, have a lively*
a sure and a certain hope of reigning in life by Jesus
Christ. Whilst so many are called away around us,
surely we should recollect the uncertainty of our
own continuance upon earth ; and as death is still
potent, still inexorable, and still delights to surprise,
let it be our chief concern to have an interest in the
affections of the heart of that Saviour, who shali
destroy this last enemy, and give to his followers a
crown of glory changeless as his own. — On him may
•we now both live by faith, that so when we have
served our generation according to his will, we may
fall asleep in his arms.
•*' Adieu ! Your's affectionately,
" THOMAS SPENCER."
The young lady to whom he refers in this letter,
appears to have been one of the seals of his early
ministry, and then at the point of death. One of
the letters written by him on that occasion, I am
able to lay before the reader.
149
No. 20.
TO MRS. —
" DEAR MADAM,
" Both your letters were safely and joyfully
received by rae. I say joyfully, because they shew
that God is putting honour upon my feeble and un-
worthy labours, and making use of them for your
spiritual welfare — a circumstance that gives me
more real pleasure than any other circumstance
possibly could. You are much mistaken in suppos-
ing that I neglected to write to you, because you
had in your letters said any thing improper; no-
thing could be more opposite to my ideas. Had this
been the case, I should have felt it my duty to have
set you right : but I can tell you what I can tell
my God, when I say that I never heard or read
an aceount of a young convert which appeared
more satisfactory, or filled me with more delight,
than that which you give me of yourself. 1 say
this not to puff you up with* spiritual pride, but
to make you more thankful that you have obtained
mercy, and to assure you that your suspicions of
any dissatisfaction on my part are altogether ground-
less. Rather would I exclaim, ' what hath God
wrought P and wrought too (well may I wonder)
by his blessing upon my weak exertions. Oh ! let
the glory be ascribed to Him who gives testi-
mony to the word of his grace. The excuse I
have to plead f >r not writing to you before, is
want of time and multiplicity of engagements
— for in the academy my time is not my own.
*13
150
1 have just been writing a long letter to Mr*
\V. 9 stating my views, wishes and hopes, for
the welfare of her amiable and beloved daughter.
May she be resigned to the Divine Will, and ready
when the heavenly bridegroom cometh ! From all
that I can learn, I have no doubt of her interest
in the affections of that same Jesus who is now, I
trust, all your salvation, and all your desire. When
I recollect that she, a seal to my ministry, is ap-
parently going to join the heavenly musicians in
singing that song which no man can learn but the
redeemed, it is impossible to express my feelings.
I am very desirous to hear from her own lips an
aecount of the way in which the Lord met with
her, and a statement of the sensations of her mind
in prospect of the last conflict. I wished to come
down to see her — I asked permission.— This coulu
not be granted me, beeause I was given out last
Sabbath day at the place to which I am going.
But I have the happiness of informing you, that
the next Lord's day I shall preach at Roydon, and
so shall have an opportunity of going to Thund*
ridge Bury Farm. 1 hope that our covenant God
is leading you in a plain path, and teaching you
more of the corruption of your own heart and
the love of Christ, by his holy Spirit. All I
can recommend you to do is, to be much engag-
ed in secret prayer to him. Oh ! aim to get
near to him in holy communion, then you will find
a heaven begun below. You will have Christ for
your constant companion, and yon will obtain the
desire of vour heart. I view this as the time o£
jour first love. May the zealous affection for
15L
Christ which I hope you now discover, increase
yet more and more. Live by faith upon the Son
of God, who loved you, and gave himself for you.
Commit your soul into his hands, and the souls
of all the members of your family. It is my earn-
est prayer, that you may grow in grace, and in
the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ ; that so I may have to rejoice that you re-
ceived the gospel when delivered by me, as in deed
and in truth the word of God and not of man. As
for your request about a settlement for me at Roy-
don, I should recommend you not to expect it. I
am always happy to come amongst you as an occa-
sional supply, but I must venture no further, f
have a variety of reasons for not considering it my
duty to settle with any congregation as yet, or even
to think of it, and I have thus far not engaged
to do so at Roydon. Therefore I must request you
not merely to check, but actually to eradicate the
thought. Wishing you — your respected partner —
and all your family, the best of blessings, I re-
main
" Your's sincerely,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
Had he then been sufficiently advanced m his
studies to have cherished the idea of an immediate
settlement — and had he been left to the free, unbiass-
ed expression of his feelings — there is no spot on
which he would have fixed as the scene of his
stated and pastoral labours, in preference to a vil-
lage so tranquil and retired as Roydon. He did
not value popularity, except as it afforded him an
152
opportunity of doing good. No one ever was more
averse to pomp or to parade. He loved simplicity
in all its forms. It was indeed a characteristic
feature of himself; and had not the prospect of
more extensive usefulness allured him to a wider
and more public sphere, his passion for retirement
would have guided him in his selection of a resi-
dence for life.
Talking with him on the subject of his health,
which seemed declining, beneath the pressure of so
much exertion, his friend said — " Do you wish to be
early laid aside — or do you desire a premature
grave ?" " Oh no," said he, " you know my wish —
to have a meeting in the country, surrounded by
trees — occasionally to see the shadows of the leaves
quivering on the w alls, in the reflection of the set-
ting sun. — A burial ground near, in which I and my
people can together lie !* To live a long, honour-
• Slay I be indulged in another extract from~the poems
of Kirk White ? It was a passage which Spencer often
read with peculiar emphasis, and seems a melancholy com-
ment on his own ideas.
" Beneath this yew, I would be sepulchred.
It is a lovely spot ! The sultry sun,
From his meridian height, endeavours vainly
To pierce the. shadowy foliage ;"
"'Tis a nook
Most pleasant."
" Yet may not undistinguish'd be my grave ;
15ut there at eve may some congenial soul
Duly resort, and shed a pious tear,
The good man's benison — no more I ask.
Iy3
able, and useful lite, bringing many souls to tlie Sa-
viour ! — This is the summit of my wishes." Though
it was denied him to enjoy the first, the last object
of his desire, and by far the most important and dear-
est to his heart, he £m1 possess ; for never was so
short a ministry honoured by the conversion of so
many souls. — Every week in Liverpool discloses
some fresh instances of its success — and one and
another is perpetually rising up to say — * By the
grace of God I am what I am,' but it was the minis-
try of Spencer that led me first a humble suppliant
to the throne of mercy,"
The situation of young ministers is peculiarly del-
icate and dangerous. The eyes not only of the re-
ligious public, but also of the xvorld are fixed on them.
And it is to be deplored, that where they have a
right to expect the greatest kindness, they often meet
with an undue severity ; and those who ought to be
the first to throw the mantle of love over their de-
fects, are not unfrequently the most forward and ex?
ulting in their exposure. To an unhappy and in-
ordinate love of scandal, many a fair and unblem-
ished reputation has fallen the victim. The scat-
tered wrecks by which they are surrounded, should
And oh ! (if heavenly beings may look down,
From where, with Cherubim inspir'd, they sit,
Upon this little dim discover'd spot,
The earth), then will I cast a glance below
On him who thus my ashes shall embalm."
"Wishing he may not long be doom'd to pine
\n this low-thonghted world of darkling wo ;
But that, ere long, he reach his kindred skies.'*
151
inspire succeeding voyagers with caution. There is
a cheerfulness, compatible with the deepest serious-
ness — the most fervent piety ; and there is a levity,
in which the dignity of the minister and the sanctity
of the Christian, may alike be lost. Where this is
witnessed, whatever claim the individual may have
upon the generosity and lenity of the spectators, he
has none upon their justice — they have a right to
censure, — and however we may deprecate their se-
verity, — none can deny them its exereise. And here
it is perhaps that students are most exposed to dan-
ger. Fatigued and wasted by the close application
and intense thought of many studious weeks, they en-
ter, as they imagine, the circle of friendship, and in-
stantly relax. Those who only see the effect, and
are unacquainted with its cause, hastily form an un-
favourable opinion of their character, and cruelly
propagate the opinion they have rashly formed.*
k * I remember a case in point upon this subject — the
mention of which may not be useless. A student from one
of our academies had been spending some days with a
pious and intelligent gentleman in the country, who was in
the habit of having the servants of Christ beneath his hos-
pitable roof. On his departure, the gentleman accompanied
his guest some miles on his road, and in the course of con-
versation said — " 1 cannot forbear expressing to you, Sir,
the satisfaction which I have enjoyed in your society. I
must confess that I have been too often grieved by the
levity of students, whom yet I have highly valued ; but
whilst you have displayed a cheerfulness which has enliven-
ed our circle, you have preserved a uniform respect to
your sacred office, which lias secured the esteem and ad-
miration of us all "
155
These observations are not altogether inappropriate
to the subject of the following letter.
No. 21.
TO MR. JOHN HADDOX.
Hoxion College, Oct. 27, iSOtf.
*• MY DEAR FRIEND,
" The expressions of affection your last letter.
all your letters, and the whole strain of your eon-
duet towards me evince, greatly affect me, and you
will find my feelings upon the subject in Prov. xxvii.
19. Sanctified friendship appears to me to be one
of the best sweets in the cup of life. It is what the
Saviour recommended by his own example, and what
the best of men have experienced beneficial in every
age. May this kind of friendship be exemplified in
us, and may we mutually share in the affections of
the heart of Him, who, "having loved his own which
were in the world, loved them unto the end Pt To
his will in all things we must bow, and in his dis-
pensations, however contrary to our inclination, ac-
quiesce ; but u not my will but thine be done," is
language which requires a large degree of grace to
use in all cases, and from the bottom of our hearts.
" Many eyes are indeed upon me, and much do I
fear that they will see something in me ere long
that will take them from me. Your warnings are
faithful, but my heart is still deceitful, and Satan
may, for any thing I know, be about to sift me as
wheat. You are not ignorant of his devices. Oh !
then, pray for me, that my faith fail not, so that,
155
instead of the number of those who heboid me. turn-
ing away from me with disgust and aversion, they
may rather glorify God in me, and take knowledge
of me that I have been with Jesus. The thought
that auords me some degree of encouragement, is,
that Jehovah knoweth my path, and that he is able
to make me stand, yea to remove the suspicions of
those who 'fear and wait to see.' But really I
cannot help thinking that there are some people in
the world who seem as if they wished for some-
thing to hinder one's usefulness ; and who by their
too significant expressions on the subject, lead me to
suppose that they would rejoice in such a circum-
stance, and say, ' Oh ! so would Ve have it.' And
why ? Because then their clever prophecies would
be fulfilled, and we should for the future put such
confidence in their forebodings as to view them as
certain omens of ill events. I do hope, however,
that God will in great mercy either keep me from
the snares that lie in my May, or take me to him-
self.
" I have to day written to the Kidderminster peo-
ple, referring them to the Doctor, or Mr. Wilson.
T will try and be with you to-morrow by 12 o'clock.
Do not be disappointed if I should not be able.
" I remain your's affectionately,
« THOMAS SPENCER."
On Sunday the 5th of November he was appoint-
ed to prcaeli at Cambridge, in the pulpit lately oc-
cupied Ijv the Rev. Robert Hall, A. M. a name dear
to genius, as to religion. The day following he spent
in viewing the University. In a letter dated the 3d,
137
he says, i; last night my surprise was excited b*
seeing that I am not appointed on the list for any-
place in town, but for Cambridge. I am to stay Mon-
day over at Cambridge, to look at the colleges, &c.
I shall think much of Kirke White f* and aware of
the respectability, both in wealth and talent, of the
congregation he was called to address, he adds, "the
Lord make me prudent and faithful; may it appear
that he has some good end to answer by conduct-
ing me thither."
He was exceedingly attached to the poetry of
Henry Kirke White. He could repeat a great part
of it, and frequently quoted it with great empha-
sis and feeling. " And yet," said he, in conversa-
tion with the friend to whom these letters are ad-
dressed* " there is a thirst for fame sometimes dis-
covered which pains me.
w Fifty years hence, and who will hear of Henry."
01 Well, suppose nobody does, and what then ? If
Henry has served his day and generation, and is
i^one to glory, neither the church nor he will be
losers : and the hearing of Henry will be too small
a consideration to be brought into the account."
Public as Spencer's life had now become, and
exposed as he was to the influence of every unholy
passion which popularity might awaken, he yet
maintained a close and humble walk with God.
He courted solitude, and for the best of purposes.
Of him it may be truly said, ' his fellowship was
with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ.*
The holy and the heavenly tone his mind received
irr those retired hours, gave a peculiar unction to his
14
15S
ministry; and the knowledge which, by deep com-
munion with his own heart and constant intercourse
with God, he had obtained, rendered his preaching
remarkably profitable to believers, and gave him a
.skill in administering instructions adapted to all the
varieties of their experience. Of this, the follow-
ing is a pleasing specimen.
No. 22.
TO MR. JOHN HADDOX.
November 9, 1SQ$.
% 1ST DEAR FRIEND,
" Be assured that I, as well as yourself
have walked in darkness, and complained that then;
w as no light. Fluctuations in experience are, I am
sure, my lot, whilst my only consolation in such cir-
cumstances still remain — 'tis the unchangeableness
of Christ. Oh ! what is so calculated to reconcile
tor minds to the way our Father calls us to travel,
ftfl the recollection, that whilst we are found in it,
Jesus is the same, and that to the end of the jour-
ney ; and in every trying circumstance he is a pres-
ent help. In darkness he will enable us to trust
a the Lord, and to stay ourselves upon our God ;
vea, he will cheer our desponding souls with visi-
tation sweet. Seasons in which we experience dark-
ness of mind, and depression of soul, are necessary :
thev form the analogy between us and those who
through tribulation are gone to heaven : they render
us lit subjects for the illuminating and refreshing
SfHM e of Christ : they add a higher relish to tbc :
5
^159
sewed enjoyment of the light and liberty of the
ospel ; and they serve to prepare us for that
world where the Lord shall be our everlasting life,
and our God our glory.
*« Reflecting upon deliverance from such times of
depression should teach us to say — ' Return unto
thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt boun-
tifully iciih thee P It should lead us to anticipate
future favours, and rejoice that He that hath deliv-
ered us can and will deliver ; and since the day
has dawned, and the shadows have fled away, we
should most cordially adore Him who has been
appointed to give light to them who sit in dark-
ness, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
May you and I ever enjoy the presence of Jesus,
our best friend ; share in his tender sympathy ; his
kind reproofs : his excellent counsels. Mav he be
our God forever and ever, and our guide even un-
to death. Then we need fear no evil. If sensible
that he is with us, we may pass through midnight
glooms, and experience a season of great darkness,,
and yet look forward to a future time, when with.
pleasure we shall sing, ' The Lord is my light, of
whom shall I be afraid .' Oh ! that I may be en-
abled to commit your soul and my own into the
hands of Jesus as unto a faithful Creator. I can-
now add no more, than to say that
66 1 remain affectionately yonr's,
"THOMAS SPENCER 4 '
The next letter furnishes another proof of his
humility and diffidence. It was written the day
before .it became his turn to preach again in the
160
vhapel at Hoxton the Thursday evening lecture,
which the tutors usually attend.
No. 23.
TO MR. HADDON.
December 6, 1809.
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
" I am sensible that Mr. S.'s politeness * mer-.
its> much of us, and if I must name some day for
bs to meet there it must be Monday next. This
we will speak of to-morrow evening. I am sorry
you have been so busy about so worthless an object
as myself. I need not say, pray especially for
me, that a divine blessing may attend me to-mor-
row evening in preaching before those whom you
know I too much dread as hearers. — i The Lord
grant unto his servant, that with all boldness he
may speak his word.' I trust your desire and ex-
pectation of obtaining good on Friday evening will
be gratified. My mind is rather more composed
than it has ever been before, when I have had to
preach here on the Thursday evening. How it
will be when the time comes, I know not. Many
eyes are upon me, and different, very different are
the feelings with which mv brethren hear me. But
if* the Head of the Church gives each of them a bles
sing, they will I hope be satisfied.
f* Your's affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCER "
It is indeed much to be regretted, that any feeling*
But those of mutual affection, forbearance, and can-
dour, should be cherished in the hearts of brethren—
and such surely are the "students in the same acade-
my. But in the present imperfect state of our na-
ture, it must be expected, that superior excellence,
while it is the object of universal admiration abroad,
will, in too many instances, be exposed to the ma-
lignant glance of envy and of jealousy at home.
And when the scourge of criticism is supplied with
knots by these, who but must expect to smart be-
neath its strokes, It is certainly to the honour of
the institution to which Mr. Spencer belonged, that
its members for the most part knew, admired, and
eonfessed his worth; — and if there were any excep-
tions — let them remain in that oblivion in which is
their best security.* But the solemn admonition of
his early death, should tend to check the bitter ex-
ercise of that unhallowed sarcasm by which the
rise of extraordinary usefulness or genius is too fre-
quently assailed. In academies of religion and lit-
erature, where the avowed object of every student
is, not his individual advancement, but the glory
* C(
Those who admire and cherish rising talent, can have
no bitter reflections when they contemplate the grave of Spex-
cer. They hailed his entrance into public life, and strength-
ened his hands by their prayers and their approbation. Those
v. iiO could envy him, and such I know there were, must
be covered with merited shame, when they behold him so
early stript of those honours, talents, advantages, and suc r
cesses, which exposed him to their jealousy and malignity.
If these unworthy men were before me, I would * speak dag-
gers to them, but use none !"— See Styles' Funeral Ser>-
-mon for the Rev. T. Spencer, page 28.
162
of God, a spirit of detraction and envy ought to
be unknown. The most devoted and useful, should
be most esteemed. Every private interest should
be lost in the general welfare of the church of
Christ. One may behold, indeed, with less con-
tern, the strokes of satire when they fall upon the
arrogant, the, presumptuous, and the vain; — but
when talents are attended by humility — when pop-
ularity is connected with diffidence — and eminent
piety is mingled with extraordinary displays of ge-
nius,— to such an object the severity of sarcasm
is improperly directed, and every well-regulated
mind must view its exercise with pain.
About this time his health again declined. A
severe cold for some days deprived him of his voice
— and he was compelled to rest one Sabbath day
from his public work. What were his feelings ir*
prospect of that Sabbath, this letter will declare.
No. 2A.
TO MR. JOHN HADDON.
December 6, 1809.
A M"? DEAR FRIEND,
" It appears that your suspicions that I
should preach three times to-morrow, will not, can-
not be realized, for Mr. Western, as well as those
around me are agreed, that I must not go to Hert-
ford at all, judging it dangerous for me to go out,
much more so to preach. Yesterday I passed a
miserable day. The thought of the pain of mind
the letter I sent kume would occasion to my friends^
hurt me much, and I was much worse than I had
been before, as my lungs and throat felt more in-
flamed. To-day 1 think I am better, but still very-
far from well. I can scarcely bear the prospect
of a sileut Sabbath. I think I shall be quite out
of my element to-morrow. Oh! that I did but
more firmly believe, that he who is my Saviour
does all things well, and that he who sustains the
the dread character of Judge of all the earth
must do right. If I am able, I shall hear Mr.
Hordle in the morning. I have no voice yet. I
hope it is not irretrievably lost. I need not say,
that if you can call this evening it will give mo
unspeakable pleasure.
" Ycur's affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
Reflecting on this temporary indisposition in a,
tetter to his father, he says, — " I have reason to
hope that the measure of affliction with which our
heavenly Father thought fit to visit me, has been
made a blessing to my soul. It gave me time for
reflection and close self examination. It gave
a new zest to my feelings, and when it was re-
moved, I hope I was inspired with fresh ardour
to live for the glory of God."
Amid the constant bustle of a public life, the retire-
ment which temporary indispositiou affords, must be
most beneficial to a pious mind. Then ic can relax in-
to a calm and intimate communion with itself. It can
quiet ly indulge in such a review of the past — and such
an anticipation of the future, as will tend not a little,
under the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit-,.
164
to curb its impetuosity — correct its levity — and reg-
ulate its principles. From the chamber of sickness,
the exercises of the pulpit will be furnished with
materials of the highest order; and the beds of the
diseased w ill be attended with a sympathy, which
experience of similar affliction only can exeite.
The greater part of the Christmas vacation Mr.
Spencer spent at Brighton, and on the first day of
the year 1810, he preached at the Rev. Mr. Styles*
ehapel, to young people, from 2 Chron. xxxiv. 27',
28. * Because thine heart was tender, and thou didst
humble thyself before God, when thou heard st his
words against this place, and against the inhabitants
thereof, and humbledst thyself before me, and didst
rend thy clothes and weep before me : I have even
heard thee also, saiththe Lord. Behold I will gather
thee to thy fathers, and thou shalt be gathered to thy
grave in peace. Neither shall thine eyes see all ths
evil that I will bring upon this place, and upon the
inhabitants of the same.'"
The good seed which he was the instrument of
scattering in Brighton, very rapidly sprang up. la
a letter to his father, written immediately on his re-
turn from thence, and dated Jan. 12th, 1S10, he says,
" a young person who heard me at Mr. Styles' last
year, was called by divine grace under my instrumen-
tality, and died before I went this time, bearing an
honourable testimony to the religion of Jesus, and to
her interest in it. Oh ! what hath God wrought !?*
During his stay at Brighton, he had occasion to
solicit a favour of his friend in London, the perform-
ance of which was acknowledged in the following
letter.
m
STo. 25. U
TO MR. H ADDON.
Brighton, January 1, 1810.
ki MY DEAR FRIEND,
" However you may smile at the idea of my
writing you a ' letter of thanks,' I assure you I
think you have a claim upon it, for you have done
for me what I should have liked few others to have
done ; but suffice it to say, it eame safe to hand.
Last Thursday evening I preached on Luke xxiv. 33.
Yesterday morning at the Countess', on Eph. ii. 14.
In the evening at Mr, Styles', it being the close of
the year, on Exodus xxiii. 20. To-night I shall only
preach, as one minister will commence, and another
close with prayer. It is said that 1 shall preach at
the chapel on Thursday evening. You ask me,
where I shall be next Sabbath. Many advise me t#
remain at Brighton ; but it is my present intention
to return home on the Friday, though I really feel
myself in a difficulty about it. I hope I have, since
I have been at this place, enjoyed the divine blessing
— those with whom I associate are the excellent of
the earth — with no others have I any occasion to be
at all connected. In this respect I am like your
good friend Mr. H. of Westminster. We certainly
do not in general sufficiently estimate the worth of
the society of those who discover the mind that was
in Christ; — great is the benefit we may derive from
their company. Oh ! let those of us who fear the Lord
apeak often with one another ; one may thus come at
each other's follies, and stimulate each other to tho
166
performance of that good, acceptable, and perfect
will of God. I think my cold is getting better. Af-
ter I had preached last night, a valuable young
Scotch clergyman, who was there, wished 1 might
live to preach many such sermons — What could I
say, but ' all the days of my appointed time will I
wait Hill my change come.' It is a great satisfaction
to know, that we are training up for heaven, and
c ripening apace for the vision of God.' Pray for
me, that this perseverance may be given me. You
know my object is the glory of God in the good of
souls, — that this may be accomplished, by my ex-
ertions, is my prayer, my hope, my aim. Whether
living or dying, may we be the Lord's. I have,
however, at present no other idea, than that I shall
be spared yet, and not die, but live and declare the
works of the Lord.* Wishing you the enjoyment of
the good will of Him that dwelt in the bush*, and as-
suring you of my steady attachment,
" I remain yours affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
On Wednesday? the 28th of February, being a day
appointed for a general fast, Mr. Spencer preached
a sermon at Hoxton chapel, adapted to the occasion;
his text was Ezek. lx. 4, ' Go through the midst of
* Alas ! how blind arc we to futurity ! A clergyman not'
long since, while uttering these very words in the pulpit,
suddenly turned pale — his voice faultered — he fell back and
expired ! Little did the amiable Spencer think, that the
hand winch thus conveyed to his friend the pleasing" antici-
pation of a long- and useful life, should lie so soon in tf}«
impotence of death !
167
Vie city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a
mark upon the men tJiat sigh and cry for all tl
abominations that are done in the midst thereof'
The general scope and style of this sermon may be
ascertained by the following extract from the com-
munication of his friend:—
" A minister saidto me, 6 Ideirt know how a good
fast sermon can ' be preached, without touching up-
on politicks.' — * If you will hear Spencer to-mor-
row, I think you will find that it can be done.' When
we met again, he told me that he had heard an ex-
cellent fast sermon, without a word upon politicks.
I remember, that in that sermon he said, < when
your ear is pained with oaths and imprecations as
you pass the street, remember that that swearer is
your fellow countryman, calliug for vengeance upon
your country, and do you, by ejaculatory prayer 9
strive to avert it.'
To enter into a minute detail of the places at
which Mr. Spencer preached between this period
and the ensuing vacation, would be useless. Suffice
it to say, that his labours were unremitting — that
he visited several congregations in the country — par-
ticularly those at Hertford, Reading, Henley, and
Brighton. '
He was appointed one of the three students who
should deliver the public orations at the coming
anniversary — held at midsummer. This preyed with
considerable anxiety upon his mind, and although
tone should have imagined that by this time he had
beeome familiar with large auditories and critical
hearers — yet we find him shrinking from the task,
»nd expressing many fears respecting it. Tb* sub-
168
jeet allotted to him was, " The influence of the
GOSPEL ON THE SPIRIT AND TEMPER." His Col-
leagues in that trying service was, Messrs. John
Burder and Stenner ; and to these gentlemen were
given as topics of discussion, " The doctrine of
THE ATONEMENT," and u The INFLUENCE OF THE
Holy Spirit." The day before that on which the
discourses were to be delivered, he expressed his
feelings thus : —
No. 26.
TO MR. JOHN HADDON.
IJoxton, June 19, 1810.
Vi MY DEAR FRIEND,
" Consonant with your request, I here trans-
mit to you the notes of the sermon on Eutychus : if
you can, let me have them again before 1 go into
Lancashire. You mention to-morrow, and oh ! what
anxiety do I feel in the prospect of it ; already it
has cost me some tears, it may cost me many more.
"Would to God that 1 may experience the assisting
grace of Him who has before proved himself able to
do for me exceeding abundantly above all that I
could aek or think. " If the light of his counte-
nance shine upon me, then 1 shall shine in the sight
of heaven, and in the eyes of his saints, who know
and can recognise the reflections of the .Saviour's
glory. From what 1 can anticipate of the congre-
gation, it will be terrific ; I ut does not the promise f
' I. am with you always,' extend to particular occa-
sions ? Most certainly it does; then it takes in this
169
>\i* service. May I Lave faith and trust in it.
ami be favoured with an experimental confirmation
of its truth. Believing that you do sincerely and
constantly commend me to the kind care of your
Father and my Father, of your God and my God,
I remain
i; Affectionately year's,
-THOMAS SPENCER.*'
i
We now arrive at the period of Mr. Spencer's
first visit to Liverpool. Before we pass on with
him to that new and interesting scene, it may he
well to pause, and take such a general view of his
mode of thinking and acting, while a student, as the
following characteristic sketches from the hand of
his most intimate friend, will furnish. I shall pre-
sent them in a miscellaneous way just as they occur.
Thus the reader will converse with him, — hear his
own sentiments, expressed in his own language, and
imperceptibly become familiar with the man.
•* That passage,' said he, Ms much upon my mind
— • Let no man despise thy youth.' I understand
the apostle thus : — Let your walk and conduct be
such, that no man can despise thy youth. And such
shall be my own."
* He was favoured with peculiar facility in com-
position. ' Many a sermon,' said he, ' have I com-
posed between Hoxton and your house.' His ideas
ilowed faster than he could write them, and when
alone our conversation has met with frequent inter-
ruption from his stopping to commit to paper, before
13
i?0
tlicy escaped him, the ideas crossing his mind.
Turning to me privately, as I sat by his side one
evening at the tea-table of a friend, ' Look at that,*
said he, ' will it do ?' It was the sketch of a sermon,
which he had composed during the conversation. ' J
don't know, 7 said he, (and those who suppose my
friend was boasting, did not know him) 'I don't
know,' said he, * that for a long time I have had
time enough for any one sermon ; I was crampt in
-every head for want of time.' His sermons at that
time were 65 minutes to 75 in preaching 5 though
his hearers were not aware of it."
" In composing, he used to fold a sheet of fools-
cap paper in eight leaves, leaving the last side for
the heads of application. However long the ser-
mon might be, he never wrote more of it ; and in
preaching, varied the sermon every time he preach-
ed it. 6 How do you obtain your texts ?' 6 I keep a
little book in which I enter every text of scripture
which comes into my mind with power and sweet-
ness. Were I to dream of a passage of scripture,
T should enter it ; and when I sit down ta compose,
I look over the book, and have never found myself
at a loss for a subject."'
" His memory was remarkably tenacious : he
could regularly repeat cyery service in which he
hud ever engaged, with the chapter which he had
read, and those of his acquaintance who were pres-
ent. Returning from llolioway, after preaching,
said he, ' Did you perceive any thing particular iu
ae thi* morning?' 'No.' <I was very ill in tlio
pulpit : my memory totally forsook me : I could net
reeolleet my subject, but having my notes in my
pocket, I took them out and read them.' ' I am glad
of it ; I give you joy ; you can no longer condemn
assistance to an imperfect memory.' ' O no, I boast
no more ; from henceforth. I am silent upon that
subject."
" The young man that has just passed my study
door,' said he, i is fearful that he shall not keep up
variety in his sermons. The best way that I find to
attain variety is continually to ask myself ' What
is there in the circumstances before me, that will
benefit my sermon on Sabbath morning ?' for a min-
ister should turn every thing into gold. And by
keeping my eye continually upon that point, I am
seldom at a loss for variety."
< ; Few persons have held pulpit eloquence in high-
er estimation than Spencer did, or in more contempt
when it stood in competition with the interest of
souls. I remember asking his opinion of an elo-
quent sermon which he had been hearing — 'Why/
said he, 'I could have wept over it — I could have
wept to hear immortals so treated."
" Your morning sermon yesterday was approved,
but not that in the afternoon.' ' No, I suppose not,
and I will give you the reason. In the morning,
when I preached on privileges, they were pleased }
but when, in the afternoon, I came to duties, they
remembered their treatment of their late venerable
pastor. I particularly respect aged ministers, and
love 10 assist them, and generally add a trifle to the
collection, when I have been preaching iu behalf of
a church which has an aged minister."
'•lie was mueh tried by the envv of some little
minds. ' Mr. 8.' said to liini, * You was very
late, I hear, at Walworth.' ' Yes, Sir, and there
you may see your own error; you know you say 1 am
too eager for the pulpit, now you see your mistake.'
At another time, ' Spencer,' said a person whose
name shall be secret, ' Popularity is a dangerous
Ihing.' 'It is.' ' No oue is popular long.' ' Verj
true.' ' You are popular now, but you will not be
so long.' ' That 1 certainly shall not, Sir, if your
wishes are accomplished ; but I fully believe, that
my popularity hurts you more thau it does me.'
The bell soon after summoned him to read (in his
turn) a sermon for general criticism. The first per-
son called upon said, that its merits were such, that
he had nothing to say of its defects. That sentiment
was universal. 'And,' said he to me afterwards,
* when 1 considered what had passed, 1 felt that that
was a moment of gratification."
" A ladv, who had misunderstood an idea in bis
sermon, wrote me a hasty letter, charging him villi
antinomianism, and me with gross impropriety if*
hearing him. It v, as Saturday ni,^ht, and he was
to preach iu the same pulpit t lie nc\t day. I went
to inform him of the circumstance, that he might
take an unperceived opportunity of explaining him-
self. He held out his hand to give his usual affec-
tionate squeeze, when I drew back, ' I don't kuu\<
173
how (o shake hands with ah antinomian.' 6f An an-
tinomian ! What is the matter ?' i Read this proof
of it.' He read it; his pleasantry subsided; and
with a countenance which spoke the feeling of his
noble soul, * O,' said he, ' this letter does me good.
— The attention of that congregation would have
led me to suppose that they were pleased, and per-
haps profited by what they heard ; and yet you see*
that there were those present who not only misun-
derstood me, but supposed that I was a preacher of
antinomianism. This letter does me good ; for
sometimes Satan claps me on the back, here in my
study, and says, 6 That sermon will do very well,
and especially from one so young as you' — and then
I begin to mount, and fancy that I am somebody ;
hut such a letter as this clips my wings — and then,'
said he, (with undescribable expression) * 1 drop into
my place, — the dust. Do bring me all the intelli-
gence of this kind that you can."
" How I wish they would begin the service with
Walts' 152d hymn, 2d book.* That hymn always
* SINAI AND SION.— Heb. xii. 18, &c.
* NOT to the terrors of the Lord,
The tempest, fire and smoke ;
Not to the thunder of that word,
Which God on Sinai spoke ;
But we are come to Sion's hill,
The city of our God,
"Where milder words declare his wilj,
And spread his love abroad.
*J5
174
sooths my miud in the opening of worship. Sty
M-Jiole soul enters into it, especially the last two
verses.' i Why do you not request that it may he
given out ?' ' Because it does not become one of
my age to dictate.' 6 'Tis no dictation, hut a gra-
tification of your friends ; it secures congeniality
through the service when you mention the hymns
you wish.' i And can we have it to Staughton V
4 No, to Prospect.'' 6 No, no, Staughton ; that is
my tune for a common metre, and Hhirland for
short metre.' The 5th verse lie frequently quoted.'*
" One day, mentioning to him an interesting text
of Mr. Cecil's, preached on the last night of the
year, said he, 4 That will just do for me to preach
at Brighton, to conclude the services of the present
year. But don't shew me Mr. Cecil's 'till I have
w
composed mine. I would not horrow a single idea,**
Behold ill' innumerable host
Of angels, cloth'd in light !
Behold the spirits of the just,
Whose faith is turn'd to sight !
Behold the bless'd assembly there,
"Whose names are writ in heav'n ;
And God, the judge of all, declares
Their vilest sins forgiv'n.
The saints on earth, and all the dead,
But one communion make;
All join in Christ, their living head,
And of his grace partake.
[0 such society as this
My weary soul would rest :
The man that dwells where Jesus is,
Mm>t be forever blest."
175
« Preaching one morning at Iloxtou, after he had
prayed as usual at his entrance into the pulpit, 3
missed him; lie bent forward for a considerable
time so low, that I could scarcely perceive him
from the gallery. When I afterwards asked him
if any thing ailed him, said he, ; When I went in-
to the pulpit, and saw that crowded audience, re-
collecting that they were all looking to me for in-
struction, and remembering my own youth and inex-
perience, I was overwhelmed, and leaning forward^
implored more earnestly the divine assistance."
i; While preaching at Jewin-street, he one after-
noou took the two lower steps at once, in ascend-
ing the pulpit stairs.^- When we afterwards met, I
asked, 6 Did you notice the manner of your going
into the pulpit ?' ' I did, and thought that you
would also — it was inadvertent ; but it was wrong.
It did not become the solemnity of the place. — I
never remember such a circumstance before, and
will be more guarded in future.' As a proof of
the necessity of his watchfulness over the minutiee
of his actions, I mention that an aged Christian
said to me some time afterwards, 6 I loved Spen-
cer's sermons, but there was a lightness about him.'
— • A lightness ! w hen, and where did he discover
it?' ' At our meeting, in jumping up the pulpit
stairs.' ' Did you see it more than once ?' * No.'
m
' Then I can tell vou, that that once he felt and
lamented it as deeply as you could : and 1 am sure
that he never repeated it. Is not that satisfacto-
ry ?' < It is."
17&
"Spencer followed Cecil; he united deep humil-
ity with true ministerial dignity : nor do I con-
ceive it possible for a youth to be less aftected by
popularity than he was ; and as to flattery, if hig
flatterers had known the light in which he view-
ed them, they would have been silent. Coming
from a vestry, where adulation had been offered —
6 Don't fear forme,' said he, 'on account of what
lias passed ; it was too weak to hurt : my danger
is when those, on whose judgment I depend, speak
unguardedly !' At another time, after a young man
had been very lavish in his praises, (who had sev-
eral times been guilty of the same impropriety)
I tokl him I thought the next time he addressed
himself to me, I should give him a hint of it. <-0
no,' said he, i treat it with the same contempt that
I do. To mention it, would give too much impor-
tance to his judgment. I would not have him think
that his judgment could do any harm."
" Spencer was particularly happy in his choice
of texts for particular occasions ; ' I feel great dif-
ficulty,' said he, * in preaching at Hertford, where I
have to address many who walked with God be-
fore I was born. To-morrow will be the first Sab-
hath that I have regularly supplied there. I have
chosen for my subject, Romans xvi. 7.' In which he
shewed what it was to be in Christ ; and the duties
which aged Christians owe to younger ones — faith-
ful reproof and exhortation — prayer for them, &c.
For his sermon on regeneration, he chose James i*
-iS, which, as he said, comprised the whole subject ; —
the efficient cause— f The will of God 5' the grand
iff
means used — < the word of truth ;' the great end in
view — that believers should be — * First fruits of His
creatures.' A gentleman, who possesses a fine mind,
said to me, 4 1 had heard so much of Spencer, that
when I went to hear him, I expected to be disap-
pointed ; but I found the reverse to be the case*
AVhen he gave out his text it was with an empha-
sis which so forcibly laid open the apostle's argu-
ment, that my attention was rivetted, and 1 was
perfectly astonished."
" He loved to improve the festivals of the church,
such as Christmas and Easter, < because,' said he,
; people expect then to hear upon the subject, and I
think we ought to meet every appearance of pre-
paration of mind with suitable instruction. The
passage of scripture which led my mind to the
ministry, and which satisfies me as to the propri-
ety of my engaging in it, is that promise of God to
the Gentile church, Isaiah l\ix. 21. — Oh! that i^xt
is very precious to me; while the death of Miss
, at Brighton, and Miss at , tends to
convince me that I am right.' Those ladies died
in the Lord, and were called under Spencer's min-
istry."
" I used,' said he, ' to feel very much in preaching
hefore certain characters. Mv difficulty is nnw re-
moved by considering, that, let them be as learned
or as pious as they may, it is probable that they
have not turned their attention to the individual
point before me. so closely as I have, and therefore
it is likely that mv sermon may a fiord some in-
J 78
st ruction oven to thein, and ibis thought gives nie
Courage."
"Mr. Spencer's simplicity in dress was well
known. He avoided in that respect the very ap-
pearance of evil, that his ministry might not he
hlamed. One Sabbath morning, when he called for
me, he had a new coat on, which I told him I
thought was more fashionable than he would ap-
prove. 'I did not know it,-' said he, and on the next
Sabbath morning, he asked me if 1 thought it more
hecomiug then : he had had it altered."
" I was desired by several medical gentlemen to
inform him, that unless he slackened his exertions,
he could not live to see five and twenty. When I
mentioned it, he said, ' that it certainly must be at-
tended to, for that his hope was to live a long and
useful life.' He therefore determined to alter the
length of his sermons from an hour or sixty-five
minutes to forty-five."
" I am going,' said lie, ' to preach at Vauxhall
to-morrow, where you may come with a very safe
conscience. You need not be afraid of a large con-
gregation there. You do not like large congrega-
tions for me; but don't jou remember how much
more encouragement and satisfaction the man has
who fishes in a pond which is full of fish, than he
who fishes in a place where he knows there are but
two or three."
"Before S. left the academy, a gentleman, whose
judgment, or piety, few are disposed to dispute, said
170
to me, ' If it were not for the sound of his voice,
with my eyes shut, I could suppose him a man of
seventy. He is ripening fast for heaven — I can fan-
cy him an angel, come down into the pulpit, soon
to return.*'
v *• Another gentleman, possessed of undeniable crit-
ical skill, and difficult to please, after he had heard
him, said, ' I stood the whole service — and I could
have stood till midnight. I felt as under the in-
fluence of a charm I could not resist, and was rivet-
ted to the spot, intent only upon the fascinating ob-
ject I saw before me."
" It was with sincere pity that he saw any young
minister descend from the holy dignity of his station,
by attention, as soon as the service was concluded,
to the advances of females, who, had they really re-
ceived the benefit they professed, would have shewn
it in a very different way.*'*
Mr. Spencer was appointed by the committee to
spend the midsummer vacation in this year at New-
ington chapel, Liverpool, then destitute of a pastor,
by the death of the lie v. David Bruce. The report
of his extraordinary talents and amazing popularity
* This is to Spencer's honour. Those who are accustomed
to attend the vestries in London, after the sermons of popular
preachers, will enter into the meaning- of this observation,
It would be well, if some v.'hom it • :rn would alsft
Lhe hint it affords
ISO
had already, from various quarters, readied that
place. And the congregation amongst whom he
was, for a few weeks to labour, had some pleasing
expectations, that they might find in him a future
pastor, every way qualified ior the important sphere
of usefulness, which so large and populous a town
presented. But on the mind of Mr. Spencer far oth-
er impressions had heen unhappily produced. From
whatever sources he had drawn his information of
the state of religion and manners in this place, it
was certainly most incorrect — and such as Jed him
to anticipate his visit with feelings of considerable
uneasiness and reluctance. Nor did he seem at all
anxious to conceal the fact, that his coming was the
consequence of a necessity, to which he was com-
pelled to bow. So deep was his prejudice against
Liverpool, that it seems to have caused the only ex-
cepiion to that uniform submission with which he
yielded to the arrangements made by his constituents
for his labours. But on this occasion, he did not
hesitate frankly to assure a gentleman, who meeting
him in London, expressed a hope, that they should
soon have the pleasure of seeing him in Liverpool,
that " it was not his wish to see Liverpool — and
that although the committee had appointed him to
go, he should do all in his power to prevail upon
them to send some other student.-'
But a vjsit upon which so much depended, and
whence such amazing consequences were to flow,
could not be abandoned by a superintending Provi-
dence, to the obstacles of his prejudices, or the in-
fluence of his feelings. His destination was fixed —
It was the voice of duty, and he obeyed. lie ar-
181
rived in Liverpool on Saturday, the 30th of June,
1810, and commenced his public labours on the fol-
lowing Sabbath.
Mr. Spencer selected for the subject of his first
discourse, Luke xxiv. 32, " Jlnd they said one to ano'
ther, did not our hearts burn within us, while he talk-
ed with us by the way, and while he opened to us the
scriptures"* In the afternoon he preached from
Heb. xii. 24, " And to the blood of sprinkling, which
speaketh better things than the blood of Abel." And
in the evening from 1 Cor. xv. 23, " For he must
reign till he hath put all enemies under his feet."
The impression produced by the labours of this
Sabbath will be long remembered. The emotion
then awakened has not subsided to this day. Every
sermon that he preached tended to deepen the con-
viction of his piety and talents— and to endear him
to the people. His lively, affectionate manner, and
the simple but elegant style of his discourses, capti-
vated all who heard him. Every sermon produced
accessions to the congregation of such as, drawn by
*«he report of his extraordinary powers, pressed to
witness their display. The chapel soon became
crowded to excess — and not alone the thoughtless
and the gay, whom the charms of a persuasive elo-
quence and an engaging manner might attract, but
pious and experienced Christians sat at his feet with
deep attention and delight. There seemed to be in-
deed a shaking amongst the dry bones. A divine
unction evidently attended his ministry, and such
were the effects produced, that every beholder, with
* See Appendix, No. III.
16
183
Astonishment and admiration, cried * what hath God
wrought ('
In his own views of Liverpool, too, a great change
was wrought by the remarkable circumstances at-
tendant on his ministry. The kind assiduities of
the family under whose hospitable roof he resided,
and an intercourse with the pious part of the con-
gregation, which they carefully promoted, tended
gradually to weaken his prejudices, and at length
completely to turn the bias, and reverse the purpose
of his mind. The period of his stay was limited to
five Sabbaths ; but at the earnest solicitation of the
people, he consented, after communicating with his
friends in London, to add another to the number.
And in the afternoon of the last Sabbath, he preach-
ed from Deut. xxxiii. 3, « Yea, he loved the people,' in
such a style of endearment and affection, as seemed
to warrant the indulgence of their warmest hopes.
The last week of his visit was spent in the most de-
lightful intercourse with Christian friends ; and on
Tuesday, the 7th of August, he left Liverpool with
reluctance and tears.
The following extracts are from his correspon-
dence while at Liverpool.
No. 27.
TO MR. HADDON.
Liverpool, July 3d, 1810.
M MY DEAR. FRIEND,
*****
" I had a most uncomfortable journey. The
distance was so great, the company so disagreeable,
183
and I so low spirited, that I can truly say, 1 never
travelled in such misery before. When I arrived at
Manchester, there was no one to meet me at the
coach. No one expected me. After a great deal of
trouble I found out Mr. Smith's house, and I shall
always feel indebted to him for the kindness with
which he received me, though unexpected, and for
the hospitality with which he entertained me till
Saturday morning, when I left Manchester for Liv-
erpool. And say you, what are your sentiments
about that ? — I freely tell you then, that I think it is
an excellent town, &c. &e. ; but I had rather any
one should be here supplying than myself, and I long
for the time when I shall leave for Hoxlon.
6i Depend upon it, if possible, I will set off for
London on Monday, July 30th ; I wish it were to-
morrow — but perhaps I do wrong in complaining.
May you enjoy the presence of Him who has shut
me up from the society of my beloved companions
for a time, perhaps that I might seek more earnestly
after his own.
" I remain,
" Your's affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
No. 28.
TO MR. 1IADDON.
Liverpool, July 17, 1810.
-** MY DEAR FRIEND,
" I suppose you have been looking for a
letter for a day or two past from your friend at Liv-
.284
ci-pool, so here it is come at last. I did not preach
at Manchester, for notice had been given the Sabbath
before, that there would be no preaching there the
next Wednesday evening — nor have I been to .
I saw no one from his house when I was at Man-
chester, nor have I heard any thing from him since:
most likely I shall not see him at all. In fact I
have quite visiting enough among the people of the
congregation.
*****
" Here are some excellent people, very pious, and
zealous for the honour of God, and the good of im-
mortal souls, in this town. With some of them I
iihall be almost sorry to part.
" Last Sunday evening I preached the sermon for
Hoxton 5 we collected about 40/. The place I
preach in is called Newington Chapel. I forget the
name of the street it stands in. There are many
more dissenting places of worship here than you
seem aware of. 1 am not yet certain whether I stay
six Sabbaths.
a Mr. has written me a long and pressing
letter for me to go to Plymouth Dock, which he says
is just the thing for me — he wishes me to settle there
— gives an exceedingly high character of the place.
According to his request 1 must write to him soon,
but 1 scarce know in what manner. It is a large
congregation, and he says, that there is there i a
huge army of the soldiers of the cross.'
"I will take care to get you a plan of the town.
I hear that a fire has consumed Huntingdon's cha-
pel in Tichncld-street— is it, true? Dr. W. has
written to me, requesting me to supply New Court.
the first Sabbath in August.
185
" The Wednesday after I wrote to you, I preach-
ed on Psalm Ixi. 2. Following Sabbath — morning,
Coios. iii. 3 : afternoon, John x. 9 : evening. Job
xxxvi. 18. The next Wednesday evening, Gal. iv.
7. Last Sabbath morning, Zech. vi. 13 : afternoon,
the same concluded : evening, Zech. iii. 7. Monday
evening, at the prayer meetings, I either go over the
outline of one of the sermons preached the day be-
fore, or else give a short exhortation, as at Hoxton.
" I suppose you know that I have written to I).
C but not to Mr. B . For the fact is, I had
rather not. I do not I«iow how, and I do not see
that it would do any good, so must decline it. I am
out almost every day. Oh why should people be
afraid to let me be alone ; why will they not let me
enjoy my much-loved solitude ! On several accounts
I feel anxious to get home ; and can now indeed
say, * Hoxton, with all thy faults, 1 love thee still.'
" Present my respects to all our friends in town.
Give me as much intelligence as you can in your
next, and believe me still
u Your sincere friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
Very soon after his return to Hoxton, Mr. Spencer
received from the church and congregation at New-
ington chapel, an unanimous and pressing invita-
tion to accept the pastoral office over them. The
call was dated on the 8th of August, 1810. After
near seven weeks deliberation, Mr. Spencer returned
an answer in the affirmative. In what exercises of
mind these seven weeks were spent, those who knew
the peculiar circumstances of his situation can well
*16
180
conceive. On the one hand, — the unanimous request
of a people to whom God had directed him contrary
to his wish, and to whom he had become singularly
endeared : — the imperious call of duty to a sphere
of action for which his talents seemed every wav
adapted, in which his labours had been already re-
markably successful, and which promised most ex-
tensive usefulness. These were circumstances af no
common magnitude. But on the other hand, there
were many powerful ties to bind him to the neigh-
bourhood of the metropolis. His family — his best
friendships— his most endeared connexions-the scenes
of his early and honourable labours — all conspired
in the prospect of his removal to so great a distance,
to awaken the most painful and distressing feelings
in his mind. — And resolutely to resist the importu-
nities of friends, the value of whose society we fully
know — to rise superior to those local attachments
which long and happy intercourse cannot fail to
form — and to leave the circle to which time and
frequent interchange of sentiment have rendered us
familiar and endeared, for a land of strangers — in-
volve a sacrifice which only the voice of duty can
demand, or the hope of usefulness repay. Yet such
are the sacrifices which the Christian minister must
frequently be called to make ; and whilst on his part
they are with cheerfulness surrendered to the call of
duty, and the cause of Christ, let those in whose
particular behalf they are claimed, seek by every
affectionate office of friendship, to blunt the edge of
separation, and relieve as much as may be by kind-
ness, the memory of distant friendships and endear-
ed connexions.
187
1 insert a eopy of Mr. Spencer's answer to the
eail which he received from the church and con-
gregation at Newington ; as it will afford to the
reader an additional opportunity of obtaining an
acquaintance with its amiable author.
No. 29.
To the Independent Church of Christ, assembling in
Newington Chapel, Liverpool,
** MY CHRIST! AX FRIENDS,
" Being unwilling to keep you any longer in sus-
pense than is absolutely necessary, upon the impor-
tant subject of my settlement with a church and con-
gregation, I feel it my duty to reply to your obliging
and respectful invitation. You are well aware, that
I came amongst you influenced by the strongest pre-
judices against the place, and resolutely determined
}iever to think of it as a sphere calculated for me.
Whilst I was amongst you, however, several cir-
cumstances united to remove the strength of my pre-
judices, aud I trust to make me determined by eve-
ry appointed and lawful means to ascertain the will
of God, and when ascertained, cheerfully to fulfil it,
however opposed it might be to my private wishes
and inclinations. A review of the partial degree
of success with which my labours in Liverpool
were honoured, does afford me considerable plea-
sure, and I must say, that I speak the real sen*
timents of my heart when I confess, that the man-
ner in which you, my respected friends and breth-
ren in the gospel, have conducted this important
188
affair, has raised you exceedingly in my esteeiii r
and given me to believe, that a preacher would
find among you as a people, those motives to dil-
igence and those sources of real happiness in the
prosecution of his work, which, alas ! are denied
to many a faithful minister of the New Testa-
ment.
" When I regard you as a church and congre-
gation, I feel anxiously concerned for your spiri-
tual and eternal welfare, and iudeed earnestly de-
sire, if consistent with the good pleasure of His
will, the great Head of the Church would make
use of me to build you up in faith and holiness ;
but my motives for thinking favourably of your in-
vitation arise also from other sources. I look at
the state of thousands of inhabitants in that vast
town, to many of whom I hope to be the instru-
ment of conveying the ' joyful sound ;' my soul
longs that they may receive the salvation which is
in Jesus Christ, with eternal glory, and influen-
ced I have reason to believe by the direction of my
God, I resolve to preach among them the unsearch-
able riches of Christ.
" I assure you, my fellow travellers to Zion, I
can observe, with admiration, peculiarities in this
dispensation which never before struck me in refer-
ence to any other situation. Oh may it appear,
that this work and this counsel is of God !
" Some difficulties must be met, and some sacri-
fices must be made, by me, when I leave the scenes
of my former exertions in the cause of Christ, for
the sake of the people at Nevvington. But these
are things which I must ever expect 5 these are
189
eireumstanees whieh I resolved should never nieve
me, when I first gave myself to God and His
Christ !
" Truly believing then that I am acting under
the direction of an all wise Jehovah, and humbly
asking that this may be made manifest in after
days, J accept the invitation you have given me to
exercise over you the pastoral office. — I comply with
your unanimous request, and shall from this day
consider myself as solemnly bound to you, if you
see it right to allow me the following requisi-
tions : —
" That I preach among you regularly but twice on
the Sabbath, viz. morning and evening. I mention
this, because I know that my constitution will not
admit of three services in the day, and I am sure
it is not consistent with your wishes, that I should
prevent myself from future exertions by presum-
: '"- on too mupl' • ' ''
• •■■ -» ■
«*w ■■
.i.*t; nv.i the p] an I propose
will I am persuaded after trial prove beneficial ra-
ther than injurious to the cause at Newingfon.
To preaching to you twice on the Sabbath and once
in the week, I sball never feel the least objection.
My other wish is —
" That I may have in the spring of the year
six weeks annually to myself, to visit my friends,
and occasionally see other parts of the Lord's vine-
yard.
"I do not leave Iloxton academy till after Christ
mas, and perhaps may not be with you so early
as you wish. — It is my intention, however, to com-
menee my labours among you, if convenient to your-
selves, on th« first Sabbath in February, 1311.
190
Your sentiments on the subjects I have mentioned,
you will be pleased to communicate to me as ear-
ly as possible.
" And now just allow me, my respected friends, to
request you not to form too sanguine expectations in
reference to the pleasure you expect to enjoy when
I become your pastor. You will doubtless find in
me much to pity and to blame ; yet it is my earnest
prayer that you may never have to charge me with
neglect in watching over you in the Lord ; finally,
I request your supplications for me at the throne of
the heavenly Majesty, that a door of utterance may
be opened unto me, that an me the communications
of divine grace may ever be bestowed, that Christ
may be magnified by my preaching and my life,
that I may be preserved faithful unto death, and
then receive a crown of life.
" Accept my cordial wishes for the prosperity
cf your own souls, of your families, but especially
of your Christian society and of the cause of Zi-
on amongst you. Cease not to pray solemnly, fer-
vently, and without intermission, for me, and be-
lieve me yours in our glorious Lord,
« THOMAS SPENCER."
IToxton, Sept. 2Q, 1810.
This official communication to the church was
accompanied by a private letter to the friend, un-
der whose roof he had resided during his occasion-
al visit, and to whose carctbe preceding document
was addressed.
191
No. 30.
Hoxton College, Sept. 19,
" MY DEAR SIR,
" If you wish immediately to know the purport
of my enclosed answer to the respectful and pres-
sing invitation I have received from jYewington,
turn to the 22d verse of the Epistle to Philemon.
u 1 hope you will forgive me for the long, the
doubtful suspense, in which I have been obliged to
detain you ; in my own view I have acted rightly,
and I have no doubt but you will say that it was
all proper, when you come to hear my statement.
It is astonishing what I have had to meet with
through the kindness of my London friends — kind-
ness you will think improperly manifested, when
[ tell you, that they, with very few exceptions,
entreat, beg, and request, that I would not settle
at Liverpool. I can only tell them, that in this
affair,
* I hear a voice they cannot hear /
' I see a hand they cannot see J*
And have the leadings of Providence lost their im-
portance ? or the direction of Heaven become mere-
ly matter of idle talk ? I have not written individ-
ually to any person in Liverpool besides yourself:
I should have found a difficulty in speaking of the
business before I had made known my determina-
tion. By the first Sabbath in February next year,
I shall (God willing) be again in Liverpool, when
I hope the presence of my covenant Gcd will ac-
192
company me, and his Spirit grant me wide success
The prospect of leaving my friends and connexions
for so distant a place as Liverpool, and especially
as many of them oppose the plan, sometimes fill me
with melancholy gloom ; but 4 thy will be done' is a.
petition that well becomes me in my situation \ may
I have grace given me to use it with a sincere and
believing heart.
^^r *^. 7^ ^> ^p
64 I trust it will appear, that the general good of
the church of Christ, and of the inhabitants of Liv-
erpool, is the object to which I have directed my
warm and unremitting exertions. Farewell.
" 1 remain sincerely yours,
"THOMAS SPENCER.''
To this may be added an extract from a letter,
dated September 1st, 1810.
" My mind still inclines to Liverpool, and that for
the most substantial reasons. If I accept this invi-
tation, I shall be obliged to make some sacrifices :
but ought I not to make them cheerfully, when the
honour of God, and the happiness of immortal souls
require them ? especially as I am bound not to count
even my life dear unto me, so that I may finish my
course with joy. The sacrifices to which I allude
are chiefly, perhaps altogether, occasioned by ab-
sence from my friends and connexions, and a remo-
val from those interesting scenes of exertion which
have witnessed my first efforts to disseminate divine
truth, and in which 1 have been favoured with some
success."
193
Thus happily was a point of so much importance
to the interests of religion in Liverpool determined.
A consideration of the issue of this affair, together
with many others perpetually occurring, should
teach us to suspend our judgments of persons and
places we have never seen — and should tend to
weaken those unjust and injurious prejudices against
them which we too hastily form — too tenaciouslv
cherish. Often we picture to ourselves the most
rnehanting scenes, the most delightful associations.
in connexion with a spot we are about to visit, and
are disappointed — and as often we find those charm-
ing scenes, and happy associations, in regions which
tjiir prejudices had invested with every thing gloomy
and repulsive. Had Spencer yielded to the impulse
of his feelings, he had never become pastor of a
tdiurch in Liverpool. And although the memory of
his lamented fate may induce, from feelings general-
ly regarded as honourable to humanity, a wish that
he had not — yet the Christian sees in this the hand
of God — and, contemplating the mighty work which
in his short ministry he was honoured to perform
rejoices that, however mysterious the decree, it was
ordered so. It is Hot for us to calculate whether he
would have been more useful, or less useful, or as use-
ful elsewhere — he was eminently useful in Liverpool
— and though all must weep that he should be so soon,
so suddenly removed — yet none who witness the ex-
traordinary impression which his labours produced in
so large and populous a town, but must rejoice in
their success, and adore the Providence which
brought him there.
19*
Nor was it from the want of other calls that Mf.
Spencer was induced to accept that which he re-
ceived from Liverpool. Many were the churche*
which desired to enjoy his valuable ministry :
amongst others, the following places may he named
—Kidderminster* Kentish Town* Jewin-street* JFor-
thing* Southampton, and Tollbridge Chapel,
This last-mentioned chapel is a recently erected
building, in the New -Road leading from Pentonville
to Faddingtcn, near London — in a populous, respec-
table, and increasing neighbourhood. During its
erection, an impression was encouraged, both on Mr.
Spencer's mind and that of the surrounding inhabit-
ants, that he would probably be the preacher. The
idea was not at all unpleasant to him. In most re-
spects the arrangement met his wishes; and he had
even laid the plan on which he resolved to act,
provided his expectations had been realized. Ho
purposed to reside a few miles out of town, to pre-
vent the dissipation of his time, and to come to Lon-
don on certain days to visit his people. He expect-
ed much gratification from the neighbourhood of his
friend and fellow-student, the Rev. S. HasJock-
minister of Kentish Town chapel, with whom be
hoped to unite in plans of usefulness for their vi-
cinity. But circumstances did not conspire to call
into exercise those judicious and benevolent designs.
The chapel was opened early in November, 1S10:
a\u\ on Sunday, the 18th, lie preached his first ser-
njon there. It was in allusion to its recent opening,
founded on Heb. x. 19—22. After the congregation
was dismissed, he went over the whole building,
*he plan of which pleaded him much. He was par-
193
fiodhiily delighted with the deep front gallery,
which by exhibiting a multitude of attentive faces,
t m? on raged him, he said, in his preaching. In that
chapel lie frequently addressed large and deeply in-
terested auditories — and in that pulpit a public trib-
ute of respect was paid to his memory in a funeral
sermon, delivered by the Rev. Richard Slate, minis*
ter of Stand, near Manchester.*
From the period of his acceptance of the call to
Liverpool, till February, 1811, when he actually en-
tered on the pastoral office there, his time was whol-
ly occupied in the diligent pursuit of his studies,
and the labours of the pulpit. Not a Sabbath pass-
ed, but witnessed twice or thrice his faithful pub-
lication of the gospel of peace. On Sunday, the
26th of August, he revisited Dorking — a spot en-
deared to him by the beauty of its scenery — but
more by the memory of those happy hours, which
introduced him to the knowledge and esteem of a
most beloved and valued friend.
The first Sabbath in November he spent at Brigh-
ton, where he preached three times in the pulpit of
the Rev. Mr. Styles.
Returning to town he continued preaching in and
about London till the close of the year, when he
* Mr. Slate was formerly a fellow-student with Mr. Spen-
cer. He was supplying the pulpit at Tonbridg-e chapel in
the autumn of 1811, the period of Mr? Spencer's death.
His discourse is founded on John v. 35, ' He -warn a burning
and a shining light? It was afterwards published — and has
reached a second edition. The sentiments it breathes are
honourable to the author's character as a man, a Christian,
and a friends
196
again visited Brighton, at which place he entered
on the year 1811 — the last of his life.
In what wav his mind was exercised 'during this
period — and how his principles as a Christian tri-
umphed over his feelings as a man in the prospect
of a long and painful separation from those he lov-
ed— -may be seen by the following letter to a friend
in Liverpool : —
No. 31.
Hoxton, December 5th, 1810,
»" MY DEAR SIR,
" I am persuaded that you will excuse my
neglecting to write to you so long, when you recol-
lect that the hope 1 daily entertained of seeing you
in town appeared to represent my troubling you with
an epistle as unnecessary. I am extremely pleased
to hear of the increase and welfare of your family ;
I cannot but feel an interest in their prosperity and
happiness : may the Lord pour his Spirit upon your
seed, and his blessing upon your offspring, that they
may spring up as among the grass, as willows by
the water courses ! I suppose I need not inform you,
that I anticipate my journey to Liverpool with min-
gled emotions of mind. The idea of a long and
painful separation from my connexions does certain-
ly at times overwhelm me with melancholy gloom ;
i have not yet learned to conquer my feelings, nor
am I particularly eminent for philosophic heroism.
The idea that I am going where divine Providence
has directed me. does occasionally impart to me
strong consolation ; may my wishes as to extensive
197
Csefulness among yon be answered : may they be ex
eeeded in the prosperity of the church and congre-
gation, and in the increase of spirituality and holy
enjoyment in my own soul !
" I am glad you are successful in getting accept-
able supplies ; this is a point which should beat-
tended to. I should like the congregation to haye
the best of preachers. My books, Sec. I must send
from London before Christmas day, that I may have
no trouble with them after my return from Brighton.
66 I am extremely happy in the prospect of being
with your family on my first entrance into Liver-
pool : it will be far superior to my being with stran-
gers. This half year has been a trying one as to
preaching engagements, both on Sabbaths and on
week-days. I continue supplying Hoxton, and the
New Chapel, Somer's Town, till Christmas : the
day after Christmas day I hope to go to Brighton,,
to stay there three Sabbaths, and to return on the
17th of January, to supply Roydon, and Hertford
the next week ; and the last Sabbath in January, to
take my leave of this part of the kingdom by two
sermons at Hoxton.
# # * # *
" Tell our friends at Newington chapel that I auj
tolerably well, and wish to be kindly remembered to
^hem. Farewell, my valued friend.
" I am sincerely your's,
" THOMAS SPENCER. "
The purposes expressed in this letter were ac-
complished according to the order in which they
ait seated. He visited Brighton, and preached on
•1.7
198
(lie last Sabbath of the old year three times, at Mr,
►Styles' chapel — in the evening a sermon adapted
to the season, from 1 John ii. 17, ' And the world
passeth away, and the lust thereof ; but he that doeth
the will of God abldeth forever /' On the evening
of the 1st of January, 1811, he preached an appro-
priate discourse at the Countess of Huntingdon's
chapel; and on the following Thursday, and three
times on the Sunday, he preached at Mr. Styles'.
On the Monday evening, being the first Monday
in the month, the missionary prayer meeting was
held in Brighton, when he delivered a most ani-
mated and impressive address from Mat. xiii. 16 — 17,
4 Blessed are your eyes for they see, and your ears
for they hear ; for verily I 9ay unto you, that
many prophets and righteous men have desired to
zee those things which ye see, and have not seen
them ; and to hear those things which ye hear, and
have not heard them? He continued another Sab-
bath in Brighton, and left that place some time in
the following week*. Passing through London, he
went into Hertfordshire. On Sunday, January the
20th, he preached at Roydon, morning and afternoon,
and at Hoddesdon in the evening. On the Tues-
day evening he preached at Hertford, and slept again
under his paternal root'. On Wednesday evening
he preached at Stausted, and on Thursday even-
ing again at Hertford. This was, I believe, his last
Tisit to his native town, and to his father's house !
The separation which then again took place be-
tween himself and his beloved family was final. The
farewell which he bade to the scenes of his in fancy
and childhood was eternal ! I cannot suppress the
1M
melancholy feeling which this reflection has awaken-
ed in my mind. I am arrived at length upon the evo
of a mournful detail, which all along I have antici-
pated with emotions of distress. Alas ! that oue so
useful should he so soon removed ! And that ere
we enter on the solemn engagements of his pastoral
life, we should be compelled to notice circumstances
so closelv connected with his death !
The following Sabbath, January 27th, was the
last he spent in London. On that day he preached
in the morning at Hoxton chapel, from Phil. iii. S,
1 Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for
the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my
Lord.' And in the evening at Tonbridge chapel,
from 2 Cor. iv. 3, ' But if our gospel be hid, it is
hid to them that are lost.'' The labours of this Sab-
bath completed his engagements at Hoxton and Ton-
"b ridge chapels ; but on the evening of the following
day (Monday) he took an affectionate leave of his
beloved friends — the constituents — the tutors — the
students — and the congregation at Hoxton, from the
pulpit of that chapel. The crowd that pressed to
hear his last sermon (for so it proved) in London
was immense. One common sentiment of attachment
and grief seemed to pervade the assembly. A friend
charged him on that occasion not to play upon the
passions. Not that he was in the habit of doing
this ; but there appeared on this occasion a proba-
bility that he might. To that suggestion he repli-
ed — that " neither his feelings nor his conscience
would admit of such trilling." He addressed the
people on this interesting occasion from those me-
morable words of Paul — Acts xx. 24, ' But none of
20G
these things move me, neither count 1 my life dear unto
me, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the
ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus."'*
Thus were Spencer's labours iu the metropolis
closed forever — labours — the renewal of which thou-
sands anticipated with delight. But he was ripen-
ing fast for glory — and rapidly advancing to the
termination of his course. Yea, the impression of
his excellence — the feeling of regret at his departure
— was yet strong and lively in the hearts of many,
when the tidings of his death shed a deeper sorrow
through the scenes and circles which he had edified
by his public instructions, or enlivened by his pri-
vate friendship !
It was on the 28th of January, that Mr. Spencer
preached his farewell sermon at Hoxton chapel —
and it was on the 45th of August, in the same year,
in the same pulpit — and to nearly the same con-
gregation — that his funeral sermon was delivered
by the Rev. Henry Forster Burder, one of the tutors
of the academy. In that discourse, a just and ele-
gant tribute was paid to the mingled piety and tal-
ent which formed the charm of his ministry. From
the known endowments of the preacher, and from
the opportunities which he enjoyed of obtaining a
correct estimate of Mr. Spencer's powers, that trib-
ute must derive considerable propriety and force :
and as it chiefly regards his ministerial labours in
London, I shall close these imperfect memoirs of
them with an extract from it.
" During the last two years of our valuable friend's
residence at lloxton, he was very frequently engaged
1 Sec Appendix, Xo. IV.
£01
in preaching in London and its vicinity. As this
chapel has been, on many occasions, the scene of his
labours, and has been often thronged with the multi-
tudes attracted by his abilities and piety, I need
scarcely attempt an estimate of his pulpit talents.
That they were eminent — that they were brilliant —
that they were captivating — w ill not, I think, be de-
nied by any who witnessed their exhibition. He un-
doubtedly displayed no small degree of pulpit elo-
quence, and his eloquence was distinguised by cha-
racteristic features. It was not the kind of elo-
quence in which a youth of genius might be expected
most to excel, and of which luxuriance of imagination
constitutes the chief attraction; it was not a peculiar
vivacity of fancy, which gave life to his addresses,
although in this respect they were not deficient; but
they rather owed their effect to the energy and ani-
mation infused by the ardour of his soul, and to the
unaffected fervour of his religious feelings, the im-
pression of which was aided by no small advantages
of person, voice, and elocution. In endeavouring
rightly to appreciate his qualifications for the duties
of the Christian ministry, I must not omit to notice
the truly edifying manner in which he conducted the
devotional exercises of the pulpit. His gift in pray-
er was peculiarly excellent. The language of his
petitions seemed to breathe the ardent aspirations
of a heart alive to God, and aceustomed to enjoy
followship with the Father, and with his Sou Jesus
Christ."*
• See a Sermon, delivered in Hoxton chapel, on the death
of the Rev. T. Spencer, by the Rev. Henry Forstcr Burder,
M. A. one of the tutors of the Hoxton Academy — pajre 32,
203
That he was maturing fast for the enjoyment of
his reward, even when he left London to commence
his pastoral engagements, is a conviction indelibly
impressed upon the minds of those who were accus-
tomed to attend his preaching, or mingle in his so-
ciety. They remember certain expressions, both of
countenance and language, which seemed to indicate
atone of piety — a spirituality of feeling — too exalt-
ed for a long continuance here. And it is to be re-
gretted, that such expressions, at the time so power-
ful in their influence, and so carefully preserved by
a tenacious memory, no pen — no pencil can portray.
Hence the sermons of animated and extemporary
preachers, when introduced to us from the press, lose
half their force and beauty. The scope of the dis-
course — the process of the argument — may be in-
deed preserved ; but the unpremeditated, momentary
flashes of holy fervour, and of brilliant genius, can-
not. The eloquence of the eye — the expression of
the countenance — the meaning which is sometimes
thrown into every limb and muscle of the frame —
are wanting. — And though 'tis pleasing to possess
a memorial of those, whom living we revered and
loved, yet the imperfection of the copy only deepens
our regret at the loss of the original. In the preach-
ing of Spencer, it seemed as though he saw before
him every object he described — and felt the full
force — the vast importance of every subject upon
which he spoke.
Preaching one evening at Back-street, Horsley-
Down, and speaking of the reward of the faithful
gospel minister, " Methinks," said he, u I already
melodious accents of the .Saviour's voice.
203
saying ' Well done, good and faithful sertunt, eider
into the joy of thy Lord." It was remarked, that
lie appeared as though he heard a voice personally
addressing him. His anticipation was in a very
few months realized !
Anxious for the usefulness and variety of his
ministry, he begged of his friend, upon his leaving
London, to send him any usefjl pamphlets or works
which might come out ; 4 * Let me know," said he,
;< when popular ministers are in town — the texts
they take for particular occasions — festivals, &c.
the settling or removal of my fellow students,*' &c.
The last time he was with his friend alone, prior
to his setting off for Liverpool, their approaching
separation was, as may be well imagined, the topic
of discourse — when, with his own peculiar affection
and energy, he said—
" Through Christ when we together came,
In singleness of heart,
We met, O Jesus ! in thy name ;
And in thy name we part.
We part in body, not in mind,
Our minds continue one ;
And each to each, in Jesus joiii'd-
We happily go on.
Present in spirit still we are,
And intimately nigh ;
While on the wing's of faith and prayer/
We Abba! Father! cry.
O may thy Spirit, dearest Lord,
In all our travels still
Direct and be our constant guard
To- Zion'.s holv hill.
204
Oh ! what a joyful meeting- there,
Beyond these changing shades ;
White are the robes we then shall wear,
And crowns upon our heads.
Haste, Lord, and bring- us to the day
When we shall dwell at home,
Come, O Redeemer, come away ;
O Jesus quickly come."
On Sunday, 3d of February, 1811, Mr. Spencer
commenced his stated, pastoral labours at Newington
chapel, Liverpool. He was then just twenty years
of age — possessed of every endowment that could
render him eminent as a minister — .and every amia-
ble disposition that could endear him as a friend.
The people of his charge, together with numbers
who participated with them in their joy, hailed his
entrance on his sacred duties with delight. From
him they fondly anticipated a long series of varied
and useful instructions — on him they gazed with ad-
miration, as affording them no mean example of a
holy and devoted life — and to him they looked with
pleasure as their children's friend. That he was
prepared to meet these high expectations, none who
have contemplated the superior endowments of his
mind can, for a moment, doubt — his literary attain-
ments, though not splendid, were respectable — his
theological knowledge was considerable — his ac-
quaintance with mankind indeed was scanty ; he
had only moved amongst the excellent of the earth ;
hut this, while it might expose him to certain incon-
veniences, gave him this advantage — that he ap«
peared in all the native ingenuousness of unsuspect-
ing youth. His love of study was great, which in-
203
Sared a constant supply of interesting materials lor
his public ministry — whilst he possessed a facility,
an ease, an elegance, in the communication of his
thoughts, displayed by few. To all these, he added
the graces of the Spirit in no common degree — the
glorious attributes of a soul eminently devoted to
God — a solemn awe of his saered office— an habitu-
al reference to the final account he should be called
to render— and an ardent zeal for the Redeemers
glory ! — Such was Spencer when he entered on the
duties of his stated ministry !
But I shall justify this sketch of his character
by some extracts from his letters.
In one dated Brighton, January the 9th, 1811, he
says —
" I dread the termination of the happiness I now
enjoy. It will be the commencement of a long and
agonizing separation. Oh ! that henceforth I may
live more devotedly to God than I have ever yet
done. I can truly say this is my desire 5 for to be
a preacher of the gospel, and not to feel its due
abiding influence on the heart, is awful indeed.
Since I have been here I have trembled for myself,
when I have recollected the numerous follies of the
four years I have spent at Hoxton. The Lord par-
don me, and teach me to be more holy. Pray for
me. Affectionately your's, "
Mr. Spencer is certainly a striking example of
what some persons are unwilling to admit — the pos-
sibility of a close and humble walk with God, even
amid the snares and temptations of an academy.
That in colleges, even the best regulated, tempta*
18
208
lions to levity exist, cannot be denied. Where many
young men, of a lively turn of mind, are associated,
it must be so. But although such a spirit may be
partially, and at intervals encouraged — yet where
there is true piety, the mind will be elevated above
their habitual influence, and occasional instances of
jail ure will excite to diligence for the future, whilst
they awaken deep regret and poignant sorrow for
the past. If to this there was a natural tendency
in Spencer's constitution, how sweetly is the influ-
ence of better principles displayed in the humility
with which he confesses and deplores his error. If
upon this page the eye of a cold, phlegmatic, stern
professor should dwell, let it not be averted in dis-
gust, when it beholds this amiable youth's confession
of an error, of a temptation to which he is incapa-
hie — and to others, if such there be, who happy to
discover in such a character, any thing like the
shadow of a fault, should be preparing to pronounce
a censorious and malignant judgment, I would say
— t Let him that is without sin cast the first stone.-
The following letter was written the day after his
arrival in Liverpool.
No. 32.
TO MR. JOHN HADDON.
Liverpool, February 2d, 1811.
66 MY DEAJl FRIEND,
" I am safely arrived at the scene of my
future labours. My journey, though long, was far
less irksome than any one I have before undertaken.
207
The roads Here bad ; this made us late in our arriv-
al at Liverpool. We did not reach it till a quarter
before twelve last night. The short time that I
have yet spent here has been quite pleasant — it has
been happy. The serious people of the congregation
have already paid me many kind and Christian at-
tentions. AVith the blessing of the Master whom I
serve, I expeet to-morrow to spend a very delightful
Sabbath. My best feelings for the glory of our
Lord, and the increase of his kingdom, will I hope
be more strongly excited than ever they have yet
been. I cannot but think that the Head of the
Church has some great work to accomplish in Liv-
erpool, and the desire of my heart is that I may be
the instrument employed to effect it. Oh i for a
large measure of the influence of the blessed Spirit
to render me ardently pious, and to keep me zealous
in my endeavours to do good to souls. I know here
are numbers who pray earnestly for me, and whilst
these pious people besiege the throne of grace on mv
behalf, I will not fear that my God will desert me.
— To be holy and to be useful at this moment, ap-
pears to be the first wish of my heart. Do you say,
4 indulgent God, let it be accomplished !'
" I am tired with my journey and pressed for
time. Believe me, in the bonds of Christian af-
fection,
" Sincerely your's,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
According to his anticipation, he did enjoy on the
Sabbath a happy day, although in the morning he
was considerably agitated by the peculiarly solemn
208
eircurastanees of his new and most responsible situa-
tion. In the morning his text was admirably adap-
ted to the occasion.— Gen. xxviii. 22— < And Jacob
-cowed a vow, saying, if God will be with me, and
keep me in this way that I go, and will give me
bread to eat and raiment to put on, so that I come
again to my father's house in peace : then shall the
Lord be my God, and this stone ivhich I have set up
for a pillar, shall be God's house, and of all that thou
shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee.'
lu the evening he preached from 1 Cor. xv. 49, —
i And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we
shall also bear the image of the heavenly. 7 In the
course of the ensuing week, he wrote as follows :
No. 33.
Liverpool, Feb. 7, IS 11.
"Oh! what a memorable day tome was
ihe first Sabbath I spent in this place; every cir-
cumstance that took plaee appeared worthy of at-
tention and big with events; never before had I en-
ured a pulpit, with those awful, solemn feelings
uhh which I was impressed that morning. The
i of appearing in a new character, of entering
on a station which I have no view of relinquishing
till Ihe day of my death; the weight of responsi-
bility which attaches to the ministerial character;
the dread lest 1 should act in any way unworthy of
my sacred office ; all these things would naturally
impart an unusual solemnity to the mind. On that
day heaven is my witness of the holy resolution I
200
formed. Oh ! that God may ever enable me to put
them in execution."
The attention which his labours had excited,
while an occasional supply, was repeated, now that
he had commenced his stated ministry. Soon the
ehapel became again crowded to excess. The town
was filled with his praise — the most respectable of
the inhabitants were perpetually disappointed in
their attempts to hear him, not being in any way
able to gain admittance to the chapel, so excessive
was the throng. His coming seemed to be the com-
mencement of a new era in the religious interests
of Liverpool — at least amongst the dissenters. The
prejudices of many were gradually subdued. The
tone of public sentiment, with respect to that class
of Christians amongst whom he laboured, consid-
erably raised. Many, by no means anxious to con-
ceal their opposition to his principles, were com-
pelled to pay a just, though reluctant tribute to
the fascinations of his eloquence f and many whom
the fame of that eloquence brought beneath the sound
of his voice were savingly converted unto God 5 and
of these, some are at this moment honourable mem-
bers of the church of which he was the pastor.
So far from being elated by his popularity, and
rendered vain by the uncommon attention he excited
and received from all ranks — every Sabbath, while
he grew in public estimation, he seemed to sink in
his own esteem, in humble acknowledgments of his
own unworthiness, and in a yet deeper sense of his
awful obligations. The next is an extract of a let-
ter to his father.
*18
210
No. 34.
Liverpool, February 26, 1811,
"I assure you I have every reason to be«
lieve, that this is the sphere in which Infinite Wis-
dom intends me to move. My congregation is vast
every time I dispense the word of life. A gene-
ral spirit of hearing seems excited in this large town
— the prospeet is in every respect encouraging, and
I am induced to hope, that great good will be done.
I feel the awful responsibility that attaches to my
employment; and when I recollect the multitude of
souls committed to my care, I tremble, and exclaim
i Who is sufficient for these things ? 9 I often think
how different is my situation now, to what it was
when I lived at my father's house. I am called
to an active and laborious scene. Once it was e-
nough for me just to execute your wishes, and then
in the quiet enjoyment of our own family circle
to experience satisfaction and comfort. Now God
has blessed me by making me a blessing to others.
May he preserve me faithful, and make me an
hone arable and holy Christian 1"
In another letter to his father, dated April the
9th, 1611, he says —
'•The interest excited in this town is still lively
and great. I trnst much good is done. Prejudices
are removed, convictions are impressed on the mind ?
and the cause ef 8utan appears to tremble under
the influence of the doctrines of the Cross."
This is indeed a portrait worthy the attention of
the candidate for the Christian ministry — the stu-
dent and the minister. It is charming to behold
such excellence, so universally applauded, veiled
from its own observation by such deep humility.
Some have indulged in speculations on the probable
influence of Spencer's popularity upon his charac-
ter, had he been spared. It is possible that its in-
fluence might have been injurious ; he was a man,
though he was a Christian. But it is ungenerous
and unjust to his memory to cherish any gloomy
suspicions on the subject, when, long as he did
live, he sustained the Christian character with un-
sullied purity, and descended to the grave the same
holy, humble, and devoted youth, as when emerg-
ing from the obscurity of his birth, the world first
witnessed his unfolding powers.
To the extracts already made, illustrative of his
humility, I shall add another — which as it is with-
out date, may be well introduced here.
No. 35.
TO A MINISTER.
" I have at length taken up my pen to re-
turn you my sincere acknowledgments for the live-
ly interest you take in my welfare and happiness,
and especially for the excellent advice you have giv-
en me, as to the faithfulness of my preaching, and
the circumspection necessary in my conduct. Oh !
never may I be left to indifference in the statement
2iS
of those glorious truths, which may well demand
the glowing fervour of our souls, since their impor-
tance is declared to us by the blood of the Lamb !
May the same Saviour he honoured by my feeble
ministrations, whom I know you delight to extol.
You have been long engaged in endeavouring to
give Him a high place in the affections — and a throne
in the hearts of the people. This, however, is a
glorious cause, in which 1 have but lately embark-
ed ; yet may the same Holy Spirit, who has ena-
bled the heralds of salvation in every age to tes-
tify of Jesus, make my tongue ever to tell his ex-
cellence, warm my heart to feel his love, and in-
fluence my conduct to show forth his praise! I
think I hear you add, Amen !"
The following is also without date :—
No. 36.
Liverpool.
<; MY DEAR 1'RIEND,
" I earnestly wish for you the support and
the care of our constant and unchangeable friend,
the Lord Jesus Christ: every day seems to con-
vince me of the necessity and the happiness of a
close \a alk with God : let us be always trusting in
God, and praying to him, and there is no doubt
but he will preserve and bless us. I was much
pleased with an instance of resignation to the Diviue
Will 1 lately met with. A pious and valuable mem-
213
bar of our congregation lost his property, to a con*
siderable amount, by an alarming fire. I was with
him soon after it happened, and it would have done
you good to have heard him say, with so much
calm and sacred acquiescence as he discovered,
"• The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ;
blessed be the name of the Lord.*' I could not
but wish that in all times of trial, I and my friends
might have the same God to strengthen and fortify
the mind as he had. Indeed von were mistaken?
my worthy friend, when you judged my letter to yoa
an expression of joy at separation from my friends.
No, jNo. There is not a heart in the world that
feels more truly and sincerely on such occasions
than my own ; but I wish ever to remember the great
object of my existence, and of my call to the min-
istry — not selfish ends but the glory of my God; and
when he commands, whatever flesh and blood might
suggest, or carnal wishes desire, I must immediate-
ly obey. It is this thought, and the persuasion that I
am employed in the vineyard of the Lord, just ac-
cording to His will, that give me composure and
peace of mind ; and I can witness that prayer un-
loads and eases the mind as much at Liverpool as
any where else. Here I hope I have felt such sal-
utary convictions of the awful responsibility of my
work, as I never knew before, and as I hope I shall
never forget 5 and happy am 1 to find, that here there
are many of the Lord's jewels, his choicest favour-
ites, many who call on (he name of the Lord Jesus,
both theirs and ours, out of a pure heart and faith
unfeigned. In our prayer meeting, I have enjoyed
p heaveu begun below, and that kind of devotion
214
which can well repay me for the sacrifices I
have made. I suppose you have heard of the
prospects of usefulness which open themselves
before me : may I have grace to improve every
hour of my time to the service of my God, and
to ^maintain that holiness and integrity of conduct
which will recommend the glorious gospel I pro-
claim. According to my arrangements, I expect to
be in town in May. Remember me affectionately to
our friends. I often think of the pleasant opportu-
nities we have enjoyed together, and often wish you
resided here. Whenever you see Mr. H , of
W , give my respects to him. I highly esteem
him, because he disc-overs much of the image and
spirit of Christ ; and these are excellencies which
must be loved by us, if we are Christians, wherever
we find them. May the God of peace be with you,
and ever keep you near himself. Pray for me, that
I may have all needful grace and assistance. Write
as soon as possible, and ever view me
6t Your affectionate friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
But scarcely had Spencer entered on the full dis-
charge of his public duties at Liverpool, when severe
affliction in the endeared circle of iiis connexions at
Brighton called him to that place. A letter written
about this period, displays the agonized state of his
feelings — but abounds with expressions of holy ac-
quiescence in the Divine dispensations. He left Liv-
erpool on the 18th of March, accompanied by the
valued friend, under whose roof he still resided, and
whose guest he was during his first visit. Arrived
2L5
in London, the following hasty note bespeaks the
anguish of his mind.
•o"
Ludgate-street, Tuesday Night,
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
"This moment I am within a few doors of
you, but cannot reach you. x>Jr. H is with me :
we have just got in from Liverpool, and start for B.
to-morrow, at seven o'clock in the morning. I shall
write to you from Brighton. Pray for me ; I am in
unutterable distress. Farewell !
« T. SPENCER."
The Sabbath after his arrival in Brighton, he did
not engage in any public service. Much of the day
doubtless was spent in administering comfort to the
afflicted. The fears which he had sometimes been
induced to harbour, were not, however, realized ;
health slowly returned. His friend was under the
necessity of hastening to Liverpool, after the lapse
of a few days — but Mr. Spencer remained at Brigh-
ton. His affectionate heart dictated the followin
letter, to welcome his friend on his arrival home.
No. 37.
TO MR. H .
5
Brighton, Thursday Morning.
<• MY DEAR AND VALUED FRIEND,
" I am pleasing myself with the idea, thai
before this reaches Liverpool, you will have shared
the hearty and affectionate welcome of a beloved and
happy family : this is a blessing which you know
how to improve and enjoy aright, and for which I
am persuaded you will express the sincerest grati-
tude to the God of our mercies. Mav the same kind
m
and watchful Providence, which has I trust led you
to your home in peace and safety, also preserve and
defend me, that I may be again restored to the
church and congregation at Newington, and be ena-
bled to pursue a course of active and useful labour in
the service of the Master whom I hope I really love.
" I frequently think that by this visit to Brighton
on so mournful an occasion, I shall be better fitted
lo sympathize with the afflicted in general, and be
taught how to commend them to God. Before this
( had not been at all familiar with scenes of sorrow
and distress. In the two sick rooms you visited last
Monday evening, I have learned lessons which 1
shall never forget, and the benefit of which may
probably beVommunicated to the Church of Christ.
aa well as to mvself.
m
a Our Redeemer himself, in order to be rendered a
merciful and compassionate high-priest, was 'tempi-
eel like as we are ;' endured the various ills and sor-
rows tbat flesh is heir to; and hence (oh! blessed
sympathy and kind relief) he is able to succour them
that are tempted.
u Next Sabbath morliing I intend to preach at the
Countess' chapel, and in the evening at Mr. Styles':
pray i\>v me, that I may be supported and blest. It
is still my design to reach Liverpool on Friday night:
tell our friends, that they may expect to see me in
the pulpit on the following Sabbath. May ] be there
richly laden with the good things of the kingdom ;—
%
17
may T he animated by a mind fraught with rich and
heavenly favours. I am sure that if my God restores
those who are so dear to me to perfect health and
strength, my heart, hard as it is, will not be insensi-
ble to the feeling of gratitude. No; — it will leap as
doth a hart ; it will pant with the sensations of un-
utterable joy. I have received a very kind letter
from our worthy friend, Mr. N. H- ; do tell him
it afforded me real pleasure, and give him my hearty
thanks for his solicitude for my happiness. I hope
you are going on well with the new Chapel business ;
if possible, let us make Satan tremble ; against the
kingdom of darkness let us use the most active and
unwearied exertions, and God shall bless us in our
deed. I wish I could have attended the meeting of
the Bible Society ; my absence however was una-
voidable. Give my affectionate regards to my dear
friend Mrs. H and to your dear children. I
hope I shall soon see you all happy and well. Your
unremitting kindness to me has produced impressions
upon my mind which will never be obliterated. J
shall be happy again to mix with your family circle,
and to occupy my own pulpit. To the hearers at
Xewington I intend to shew my regard and best
wishes, by constantly labouring in their service.
"I am more than ever your's,
« THOMAS SPENCERS
The uncommon attention excited in Liverpool by
Mr. Spencer's ministry, soon suggested the necessity
of providing more accommodation than Newingtou
chapel could afford, for the numbers who were anxi-
ous to enjoy the benefit of his stated labours. At
19
£18
t the idea of enlarging the old place of worship
presented itself; but some difficulties arising, this
was relinquished, and early in March it was resolv-
ed, that a chapel capable of accommodating two
thousand persons should be erected — a committee of
management was appointed — and an eligible spot of
ground soon selected for the purpose. xV most judi-
cious plan for the building was proposed and adopt-
ed — the dimensions of which were thirty-two yards
Jong outside, and twenty-one yards and a half broad
outside. A liberal subscription was soon obtained*
and the affair was in a state of such forwardness on-
his return from Brighton, that on the 15th of April,
Mr. Spencer laid the first stone of the chapel, in the
presence of an immense assembly — computed to con-
sist of about six thousand persons. On that truly
interesting occasion, he delivered an appropriate ad-
dress, and solemnly dedicated the place to God by
prayer.*
About this time Mr. Spencer removed from the
hospitable abode of his early friend, with whom he
had resided on his first coming to Liverpool, in order
(o loth'e with Mr. Thurston Lassell. in the Park
lload ; a pleasant situation, about half a mile from
the town. It was the lot of Spencer to be beloved
in every circle which he entered — and none who
were honoured to behold his excellence, and enjoy
his friendship, ever resigned him, without feelings
of the deepest regret. I cannot deny myself the
* For the oration delivered al the foundation of the cha-
pgi — and also for an account of the services performncd a'
its opening i;» Mar, 1812— see Appendix, No. V.
SI 9
pleasure of extracting a sentence or two from the
willing testimony which that friend has home to the
sterling worth of his amiable guest. I am (lie more
anxious to do this, as it, will unveil his character in
private life, and shew us, what he was as the mem-
ber of a family.
"We had the great advantage of Mr. Spencer's
pious conversation and fervent prayers in the family
for near four months, for he did not leave us till the
latter end of April ; it was indeed a pleasant, and
I trust, a profitable season, which we often review
with great delight. With what pleasing emotions
have we often surrounded our domestic altar, and
witnessed the fervour of his addresses to the God
and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In this de-
lightful employ, he never seemed to engage with half
a heart, his whole soul was alive to the service of
his God : he was serious in a serious cause, nor did
any circumstances that arose ever seem to unfit him
for the discharge of religious duties. Morning and
evening he generally engaged in prayer at family
worship ; the variety he produced on these occasions
lias often astonished us ; it was impossible to trace
any thing like repetition, every prayer seemed quite
new, and gave fresh proof of the powers of his
mind, and the ardour of his soul.
" Mr. Spencer naturally possessed an amiable dis-
position, and was innocently cheerful ; no one could
say that gloom or melancholy was connected with
his religion. In his manners he was simple and
unaffected; any thing like ostentation or parade he
disliked exceedingly; he would always, if possible.
Did mining with large parties. The company of
Serious, pious, plain Christians was his delight.
He was kind, generous, and tender-hearted ; the
v. ants of the poor and necessitous he was ready and
willing to relieve ; ' To do good and communicate
he forgot not, knowing that with such sacrifices
God is well pleased."
But whilst all around him was prosperous and
happy — whilst his ministry was successful heyond
his most sanguine expectations — and hundreds were
eager to administer to his comfort — his heart was
the victim of anxiety and grief. The continued and
alarming indisposition of his friends at Brighton, in-
spired his delicate and susceptible mind with the
most gloomy and agonizing fears. It was well. His
heavenlv Father saw he needed some thorn in the
flesh, under the circumstances of his unexampled
popularity, to prevent his being exalted above mea-
sure — and to preserve his soul in a frame of holy
solemnity, and humble reliance on himself. Lest
ihe sun of his prosperity should dazzle him too
much, these friendly clouds were permitted to in-
tervene. Their salutary influence may be traced
\n the following letter:—-
No. 88,
TO MR. .JOHN H ADDON'.
Liverpool, April 16, 1811.
i: MT DEAR FRIEND.,
" The melancholy state of depression in
which J have been held so long, must form my ex-
ruse for neglecting the sacred duties of iriend-hip a
• : ♦> I
in not writing before tins to you. — —Oh ! how soon
fran Jehovah blast our hopes of happiness from crea-
ture comforts, to convince us of the uncertainty of
all earthly good ! We must " walk by faith," anil
live in the exercise of a lively hope, that we shall
obtain a better and more permanent rest. 1 scarcely
dare, for my own pare, anticipate any other kind of
happiness on earth, but what may arise from com-
munion with the Saviour, and the delightful work
in which I am engaged, which, I must say, amidst
all my trials affords me increasing happiness and
pleasure. Thanks be to God, the work of the Lord
is prospering in my hand ; and though I may not
have much pleasure in this world myself, I hope I
shall be the means, in the hands of the Holy Spirit,
of putting into the possession of nay fellow creatures,
real and substantial felicity ; this, the gospel I am
enabled to preach is sent to confer. The next week
I expect to go to my lodgings. I shall reside in a
retired rural and delightful spot, with a family,
(three only in number) who belong to the congrega-
tion in which the Lord has graciously called me to
labour ; it is about half a mile from the town,
away from all bustle and noise, commanding a most
delightful and enchanting prospect of both land and
water. My study affords a most extensive view of
fields and hills, the river, and the adjacent county
Cheshire.) I am persuaded it is every thing I
could wish for as a plan for my residence. In that
pleasant study* I expect to spend much time, and
To me it is a melancholy reflection, that I should so
soon become the occupier of a spot in which he had fondly
.red to himself so many years of pleasure. In his own
*19
222
enjoy some degree of pleasure ; and my dear friend
will believe me when I assure him, that amidst the
afflictions which our righteous Father judges the
best schools for me, it would tend to alleviate my
sorrows' and cheer my spirits, could he be in my
new study, and as he did in my old one, occasion-
ally spend an hour or two with me in social chat.
" Yesterday I laid the foundation stone of my
new chapel, gave an address upon the spot, and
dedicated the place to God in solemn prayer. The
auditory consisted of not less than five thousand
people, who were all fixed in their attention. May
C, on that ground, often find a solace for my cares,
in the public worship of God ! May he bless the un-
dertaking! May his eyes and his heart be there
perpetually !
M Farewell — I must break off by assuring you.
that I am sincerely your's,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
The week following that in which he laid the
foundation stone of the new chapel, Mr. Spencer
made an excursion into the country, and preached
on the Tuesday evening at JUarwen, and on the
Thursday evening at a meeting of ministers at
Blackburn*
study — on his own table — in bis own chair — I am now draw-
ing- up these memoirs of his life ; — around me are the fruits
< f his short, but laborious exertions — and immediately before
jny eyes the path by which he descended to his grave ! From
every object within my view, I am admonished, ' work whilst
it is day, for the night cometh, ivhen no man can -work? I would
ihat every loiterer in the vineyard of Christ were attended
V\ mementos such as these.
2-»3
Daring this journey, he suffered much from the
complaint to which lie was subject — but although la-
bouring under the pressure of severe indisposition,
io the pulpit he rose superior to the influence of lan-
gour and pain — and his exertions on that journey
are still spoken of by those who witnessed them,
and they were many, with delight.
On his return to Liverpool, Mr. Spencer received
a melancholy summons to Chester, to attend the fu-
neral of his early and amiable friend, the Rev. Eben-
ezer White, and to deliver the oration at his grave.
His obligations and attachment to that excellent man
have already been recorded. When arrived at the
scene of death, his delicate mind seemed overwhelm-
ed in an agony of grief. He stood weeping in un-
utterable distress over the cold remains of his de-
parted friend. His bosom formed for friendship,
and even then the seat of no ordinary sorrow, was
ill prepared to sustain the pressure of a stroke, by
which he was suddenly bereft of one who had dis-
charged for him the relations of the father, the tu-
tor, and the friend ! Mr. Walter White, who was
the witness of his grief, has thus described it: — " I
shall not easily forget this dear young man's beha-
viour on the evening preceding my brother's funeral
at Chester. We were standing together by the side
of the coffin, viewing the corpse — he wept excessive-
ly, and clasping his hands with great emotion ex-
claimed, ' Oh ! that I may but finish my course like
him !' and turning to me, he said with his usual
energy, * Oh ! what a fine thought it is, that the
bodies of the saints are purchased by Christ as well
as their souls.' And then passing his friendly
224
hand gently over my brothers face, lie said, with
great emphasis, ' This body is the purchase of
Christ: it cannot be lost — it must revive again — ail
these limbs mu9t resume their activity. Oh ! with
what fine sentiments and ideas does the Christian re-
ligion furnish us to what any of the heathen systems
did!"
Though excessively agitated in his whole frame,
he yet sustained himself to deliver at the grave -a
funeral oration, characterized bv tender and solemn
eloquence — the eloquence of feeling and of piety.
His letters to his friends for some time after this
event, contain occasional allusions to the death of
Mr* White — and in a way which proves how much
he loved him — how deeply he deplored his loss. In
one he says — ■
" I have lately been visiting a scene of death at
Chester : my worthy friend Mr. White is now no
more in this world ; but I doubt not, he shines illus-
triously in another state of existence. When I was
eleven years of age he came to Hertford, and used
to spend a great deal of time with me : ah ! little
did I then think I should have to deliver a funeral
address at his interment, and so far away too from
the place with which we were then familiar. Feace
to his ashes, and eternal joy to his departed spirit i
and ere long may I meet him in that blessed state,
where disappointments will no longer be his lot or
mine."
On the Fabbath evening following, Mr. Spencer
preached a funeral sermon for his friend, in his own
pulpit at Liverpool, from Deut. xxxiv. 5, 'SoMoses,
the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of Mo~
Z%5
ab, according to the word of the Lord.' The sermon
was solemn and impressive. Thus we record the
mortality of others, and drop into eternity ourselves.
On that Sabbath evening three months, his own fu-
neral sermon was preached in the same pulpit.
The following letter was written the day before
the funeral of Mr. White : —
No. 39.
TO MR. H ADDON.
May 13f/i, IS 11.
" MY DEAR FRIEND,
" I am ashamed when I think of the length
of time which has passed since I last wrote to you ;
but indeed since then I have scarcely written to any
one, so much have I been occupied. What a beau-
tiful and admirable narrative is the Dairyman's
Daughter; if you can, get me two hundred of them,
and send me the very first opportunity : they are
just the kind of publication I want for several of my
hearers. Procure me too some of the Negro Servant,
and of all the interesting modern tracts, which your
own discretion may suggest. The Rev. Ebenezer
White of Chester, has entered into the joy of his
Lord. He was formerly settled at Hertford. I
knew him, and highly esteemed him. 1 am going
o his funeral. Oh ! how uncertain is human life i
how necessary that habitual frame of piety which
the Holy Spirit can impart to his believing favour-
ites ! May we both enjoy the sanctity of religion,
love it for its purity, and be enabled to discern \U
226
holy excellencies ; then we shall show that our re-
generation is real, and our hope of heaven well
supported. God is showing me more and more of
the uncertainty of all things here, and the necessity
of living the blessed life of faith upon the Son of
God, who, I sometimes think 1 can say, " loved me,
and gave himself for me." I study a good deal,
and find increasing pleasure in it. In visiting, as
yet I have done but very little. The families I am
most intimate with, are the serious, the pious fol-
lowers of Christ; for I find that these alone can
help me to comfort under my own trials, or in any
wav do me real Ejood. But I know I must not be
selfish. I must labour to do good in any way I can
possibly think of.
" I am much pleased with my lodgings ; the situa-
tion is so retired and beautiful, that it is every thing
I can wish. I doubt not but you continue to pray
for me, and I need your prayers. I feel the awful
responsibility of my work, and my own unfitness for
it. I long to 6 present every man perfect in Christ Je-
$usS Remember me affectionately to all our friends.
" I am sincerely yours,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
Mr. Spencer seemed now to become more and
more interested in his important work 5 the scenes
of every day appeared to present it to his mind in
some new and interesting light. The powers of his
soul were absorbed in its concerns. He could think
and speak of nothing else. In the pulpit, or in pre-
parations for it — in serious conversation with his
friends — or in the chambers of the diseased and d j
£27
ing, he was at home. He lived but for Hie (liachar.
of his high obligations ; and in the prosecution of hi
arduous work he was both useful and happy. With
astonishing rapidity his character and talents ripen-
ed. He seemed to grow daily in favour both with
God and man. All that saw him, admired him,
there was something so eugaging in his manner- — all
that heard him, respected and revered him, so sen*
ous and important were the truths which he deliv-
ered — all that knew him, loved him, for his was every
amiable quality that could excite and retain the
best affections of the human heart.
Valuable as our public institutions for the educa-
tion of students for the Christian ministry really are,
they can afford but an inadequate conception of the
complicated duties of the pastoral office. The work
of the pulpit is perhaps, after all, not the most diffi-
cult or trying part of the pastor's employ — and the
reason why so many fail when called into active
MB 1 **g in the Church of God, is probably this, that
'ever calculated upon one half of the engage-
ments which then press upon their regard. They
had formed a mcst incorrect estimate of the nume-
rous claims which the office of the ministry involves,
upon their time — their talents — their patience — -and
their faith. They had imagined, that in the com-
position and delivery of sermons was the chief of
their labour — -and that when this duty was discharg-
ed, by far the heaviest burden was removed. The
visitation of the sick, with all the peculiar delicacy,
prudence, affection, and faithfulness which it requires
—the consolation of the distressed, with all the cau-
tion and skill which the varieties of their grief de-
hi and — the reproof and admonition of the irregular*
with all the mingled tenderness, constancy and fidel-
ity, which, in such difficult cases, must he exercised
— the care of the young, with that adaptation of
temper and manner to their capacities which, in
the work of catechising, familiar conversation or
public instruction, is absolutely necessary — the ad-
vising, comforting and relieving the distressed, the
embarrassed, and the indigent, who all press to him
for counsel, solace and relief: — these, and unnum-
bered other duties connected with the pastoral office,
are perhaps but seldom contemplated with sufficient
seriousness amid the exercises of a college. And
even in the public engagements of ministry, the cir-
cumstances of the jmstor differ materially from those
of the student. The pulpit compositions of the stu-
dent are general; those of the pastor must be par-
ticular. The student has no individual case to suit ;
the congregation to whom he preaches are strangers
to him ; the pastor has as many cases as theriv.are
people committed to his charge. The studej?-
select his topics, aud adapt his preaching to the
lone of his mind — or if peculiar reluctance should
he felt, may enjoy the repose he wishes, and not
preach at all ; but the pastor must appear at the
stated hours of worship, whatever be the frame and
temper of his soul. Often he is called to the dis-
cussion of subjects but ill adapted to his feelings ;
and it becomes his duty to administer consolation
to others which his bleeding bosom needs, but can-
not take. He must sometimes cover with a smil-
ing countenance an aching heart j and his lips must
exhort to tranquility and confidence in God, whilst
229
over his own spirit broods the cloud of anxiety and
sorrow ! Happy shall I be if the perusal of these
imperfect memoirs tend to excite in the breast of any
a spirit of Christian sympathy and prayer for the
ministers of the gospel : or if these statements of
tbc labours and anxieties of their office, shall induce
those to pause and count the mighty cost, who may
be thoughtlessly pressing forward to the arduous
work. Let such remember the worth of souls — the
guilt of becoming accessary to their ruin — and the
solemn account all must render at the bar of God,
Mho have taken upon themselves the responsibility
of seeking, by every possible method, to promote
their eternal interests.
These considerations seemed ever present to the
view of Spencer. The feelings of an affectionate
and faithful pastor's heart breathe in every sentence
of the following letter.
No. 40.
TO MR. HADDON*.
Liverpool, May 31, 1811.
'*•' MY DEAR FRIEND,
" You really must excuse my apparent neg-
lect in not writing you before : but if vou knew
the number and pressing nature of my avocations
you would not wonder. I now feel, and deeply too,
the dreadful responsibility of my employment. I
have sick beds constantly to attend— a numerous
congregation committed to my charge — a character
to sustain, which ought ever to appear free, even
20
230
from flic very appearance of c^vil — and all this
with the most depressed state of feelings, and but
little experience of the arduous duties the course
of the Christian ministry embraces. Often do I ex-
claim, ' who is sufficient for these things f 9 Oh!
that I may find that my sufficiency is of God. I
am led at times to derive encouragement from the
good which I trust the blessed .Spirit has accom-
plished by my feeble labours ; but then I think a-
gain of my youth, my inexperience, my exposure
to the fiery darts of the wicked one, and the pos-
sibility of my eventually becoming 6 a east-awayS
" Oh ! there are many feelings of this painful class
in my mind, which few ean share, which I cannot
dare frequently to communicate.
" All this, and much more, do I daily feel. I
wish you were with me. I could say a thousand
things I cannot write, and you might console me
with the comforts wherewith you yourself are com-
forted of God ! Do pray for me, for I need it more
than ever now. Often do I dispense to others that
consolation I cannot take myself.
" Thank you a thousand times for Cecil. Oh !
they are admirable ; what a character was he. Oh !
that the Head of the Church would hut make me like
him. The tracts are just what I wanted; may a Di-
vine blessing attend the distribution of them. Fare-
well! "I am your's affectionately,
"THOMAS SPENCBS.'J
In another letter he writes :
" Cecil's works are a high treat indeed : you can-
not think how 1 enjoy the perusal of them. There
are such valuable hints for ministers — such inesti-
231
amble directions, that I hope I shall evince the bett r
efit of reading them, to the last hour of the day in
whieh I am appointed to work I"
The church and congregation at Liverpool now
hecame anxious for Mr Spencer's ordination, and
Thursday the 27th of June was appointed for that
solemn service. In the following letter he announc-
ed it to his early friend and patron, Mr. Wilson,
whose presence on that occasion h.2 earnestly de-
sired.
No. 41.
TO THOMAS WILSON, ESQ.
Liverpool, June 4, 1811.
" MY DEAR SIR,
4i I am happy to inform you, that Thursday
June the 27th is the day appointed for my ordina-
tion. Will you allow me to expect the pleasure of
your presence and society on that solemnity ? If
you were here, you would be pleased with my pros-
pect of u • "'ulness, and you would be able to suggest
some hints to our friends about the new chapel.
tattle things are apt to be neglected, and their
neglect, though apparently trifling, would spoil the «
whole concern. We may well congratulate each
other on the triumph the dissenters have obtained
over an intolerant and oppressive spirit. They
have imagined a vain thing : the Lord reigncth, let
the people tremble. You know the great depression
of spirits under which I have for some time labour-
232
ed ; may the Lard appear a present help in this tirna
of trouble, The walls of Zion are to be built, it
appears, in troublous times, for such they are to
me ; yet I would submissively commit my cause to
tiod; he may ordain that the benefit of his Church,
and the good of others, shall be promoted by the ills
I endure. You know poor White, of Chester, has
received the end of his faith — the salvation of his
soul ; I delivered the oration over his grave. Mr.
Fletcher, of Blackburn, preached his funeral sermon.
We are all dying creatures, hastening to the world
t»f immortality. I think that lately the world has
appeared to me in its true light — « it passeth away.'
May we by every dispensation of Providence be
rendered more meet for the inheritance of the saints
in light : in due time may we be clothed upon with
our house, which is from heaven. Present my kind
respects to Mrs. and Miss Wilson. I hope you
will try to visit Liverpool by the time mentioned.
Wishing much to see you, I remain, dear Sir,
" Affectionately your's,
"THOMAS SPENCER."
The day of ordination at length arrived. The
chapel in which Mr. Spencer preached being but
small, that service, which, amongst dissenters of the
congregational order, is remarkably solemn, was per-
formed at the chapel in By mm -street, Liverpool,
which was handsomely granted to the people at
Newington chapel for that special purpose. It was
indeed an interesting day. The services were com-
menced by the Rev. Mr. Evans, of Stockport, who
read suitable portions of scripture, and implored the
233
Divine blessing npon the sacred engagements of the
day. The Rev. Joseph Fletcher, M. A. of Black-
burn, then delivered an admirable introductory dis-
course, and received from Mr. Spencer his confes-
sion of faith, together with answers to the questions
usually, on such occasions, proposed to the minis-
ter to be ordained;* Mi, Spencer then kneeling
down, surrounded by his fathers and brethren in
the ministry, the Rev. John Cockin, of Halifax, of-
fered up, with deep solemnity, the ordination pray-
er, accompanied by the imposition of hands. To
this act of ordination succeeded a most impressive
and affecting charge from the Rev. William Hor-
dle, of Harwich, Mr. Spencer's former tutor and
friend. The passage on which this excellent ad-
dress was founded was Col. iv. 17. ' Take heed
to the ministry which thou hast received in the
Lord, that thou fulfil it: The Rev. Mr. Roby,
of Manchester, preached to the people of Mr. Spen-
cer's charge, upon the duties which devolved on
them in the relation that day publicly recognis-
ed from Gal. iv. 18, * It is good to be zealously af-
fected always in a good thing? The service was
throughout most affecting and impressive; it was
characterized by a peculiar solemnity, both in the
feelings of the ministers and the people. The tender
frame and delicate mind of Spencer was nearly
overwhelmed by the awful considerations which then
pressed upon him. Had the melancholy event which
so rapidly succeeded this interesting service been
* For Mr. Spencer's confession of faith, &c. see Appen-
dix, Xo. YI.
*20
34
at that time certainly announced, a seriousness more
suitable to the occasion could hardly have been in-
spired ; and indeed in Mr. Hordle's charge there
Mere passages which in the sad sequel of this his-
tory appear most singularly appropriate — bordering
even on the prophetic! One in particular deserves
to be recorded : —
" You, my dear young brother, must die, and stand
at the bar of God. Your ordination service may be
only a prelude to your funeral service, for what is
man ? Man is but of yesterday, and his days are as
a shadow. How often have we seen the sun go
down while it is yet day ! and while the church has
been pleasing itself with the prospect of enjoying
the pious fervent labours of an endeared minister for
years, has an unexpected stroke separated them
forever ! Mourning survivors wondering have said,
4 Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself, God
of Israel, the Saviour."
Too often such remarks as these are passed by
unnoticed by the thoughtless — are merely considered
as expletives to supply the want of other matter —
■ or splendid furniture to decorate and give effect to
the address. The anticipation, though founded in
reason, warranted by scripture, and authorized by
experience, is yet unaccompanied by any just assur-
ance of the event it realizes; and its connexion with
any special decree of God is concealed from mortals.
But there are seasons when the lips of holy meu
seem to utter something more than those vague ad-
monitions of death, which, from their frequent re-
currence, or the uncertainty of their immediate ac-
complishment, lose their power to impress. And to
235
those who admit the doctrine of divine influence up*
on the minds of men, and more especially upon such
as are appointed to state and enforce the solemn
doctrines of revelation to mankind, it can be no
source of astonishment that God should sometimes
direct the thoughts and expressions of his ministers
into a current adapted to certain ends he has to an-
swer, or particular events he intends shall shortly
come to pass. With respect to the passage above
cited, and its corresponding event, persons will form
their own opinion. I cannot, however, but regard it
as adding somewhat to the force and propriety of
observations such as these, since here was another
instance, in which the event anticipated by the
speaker as jwssible, though at the time, perhaps, re-
garded by the hearers as highly improbable, was but
too surely realized !
m
Mr. Spencer was now fully invested with that sa-
cred office, which from his infancy he had desired 5
and he set himself diligently to the discharge of its
momentous duties. That he felt its importance, was
evident to all. His habitual conduct and conversa-
tion proved it. To his most intimate friends he free-
ly expressed his anxieties respecting it, and earnest-
ly did he implore an interest in the prayers of his
people and his brethren in the ministry. In the as-
surance that he laboured amongst a praying people,
he felt confidence : and no consideration is more
adapted to relieve the mind of a faithful minister
than this — while it pours unseen a thousand bless-
ings on his head, it secures to his labours an affec-
tionate attention, and an earnest desire rightly to
appreciate and improve them. That which persons
236
make the subject of earnest prayer, they will usual-
ly value : and it is hardly possible but that good
must be uniformly the result, when both minister
and people come from their closets, which have wit-
nessed their fervent intercessions for each other, to
the house of God. The apostle knew how to esti-
mate the prayers even of the meanest Christians
who enjoyed his labours. 'Brethren, pray for its.'*
-—It is true that a people will for the most part
take the cast of their religious character from that
of their minister: if he be much alive to God, and
zealous in the discharge of his ministry, he will
communicate the sacred flame to all around him,
and cause his people to reflect on every side the light
his preaching and his example shed. But, on the
other hand, are there no instances in which the re-
verse of this has been the case ; the minister has
been gradually disheartened and dispirited by a cold,
supine, and worldly-minded people, who have con-
tinually thwarted him in his generous designs —
counteracted his benevolent efforts — and quenched,
by indifference and neglect, the ardour of his zeal.
Instead of assisting him in his glorious work, they
have hung like weights about his garments ; and
instead of acting as pioneers to prepare the paths of
Christian benevolence for his willing feet to tread,
they have clogged up the avenues with obstacles,
and lined the way with insuperable difficulties. The
* See an admirable sermon upon this subject by the Rev.
William Jay, of Bath, preached at the settlement of the Rev.
Henry Forster Border, A. M. at Hackney. Every pious min-
ister, who knows its worth, must wish to see this excellent
discourse in the hands of his people.
SK
37
spirit of the man has been broken by perpetual dis-
appointment — vexation has gradually enervated his
mind — and by slow and imperceptible degrees he
has sunk into torpor and indifference — and the lan-
gour of the pastor has at length presented an un-
happy counterpart to the supineuess of the people.
And even where neither the cause nor the conse-
quences obtain to so alarming and fatal degree, still
it is to be deplored that any approach to them
should be suffered to exist. Here the stated at-
tendants on a gospel ministry may often find a
reason for that want of pleasure and improvement
which sometimes they deplore, though most unjust-
ly, at the preachers cost. If prayer, special and
fervent, for a blessing on their pastor's labours, has
been neglected, the mystery is at once developed.
For they have no right whatever to expect a bless-
ing without prayer; and as they have no right to
expect it without prayer, neither are they in a suita-
ble frame to receive it ; and thus it often happens,
that where the prayerless soul departs empty away,
the humble and earnest petitioner obtains a rich and
suitable supply from the same table, and of the
same food. It is light bread to the one, but it is
life-giving and substantial provision to the other.
4 Jisk and ye shall receive.' 9
On the first Sabbath in July Mr. Spencer dis-
pensed, for the first time, the solemn ordinance of
the Lord's supper. It was a time of love — a sea-
son of refreshing from the presence of the Lord.
The sweet impression of that happy day still re-
mains, and its memory is yet dear to many. On
the following Monday, at the social prayer meet-
£38
ing in the evening, in the bosom of his people, he
a^ain solemnly dedicated himself to God, and re-
newed his vows to consecrate all his powers to their
service in the work of the ministry. Indeed, all he
wrote, or said, or did, indicated the holy fervonr of
his soul. Tenderly alive to the sacred delicacy of
his character, he was anxious to sustain it well,
that the cause of Jesus might not suffer by auy spots
it might contract. Conscientiously awake to every
call of duty which his most responsible station
might involve, he was ready to obey them all — that
the ministry might not be blamed! — The following
letter is from his correspondence about this time,
aud may be numbered with the last he ever wrote.
The expressions which I have copied, are mingled
with others sacred to the privacy of friendship.
They promise pleasures never realized unfold
prospects suddenly destroyed — and record arrange-
ments he was not permitted to fulfil !
No. 42.
TO MR. HADDON.
Liverpool^ July 8, IS 1JL
~ MY DEAR FRIEND,
* # # # #
"The ordination has, for the last fortnight,
occupied almost the whole of my attention, and the
impression, the solemn, the holy impression of which
L trust 1 shall never forget. Yesterday, for the first
time in my life, I administered the ordinance of the
Lord's supper, and found it to be indeed * a time of
refreshing from the presence of the Lord.'' My du
239
ties are more and more important and pressing.
Conversations upon religious experience with candi-
dates for admission into our church, the baptism of
children, and the calls of the sick and dying must
necessarily engage much of my attention. But I
can sincerely bless God, that amidst all the depres-
sion of mind I have suffered, my work has been my
delight. The duties of the ministry have often re-
freshed, instead of oppressing me. The pleasure of
the Lord has prospered in my hands. I love the
service of the Head of the Church better than ever I
did : when I am watering others, I find that Jehovah
the Spirit waters my own soul too ! Oh ! is not this
an encouraging token for good ?
" In great haste,
" I am ever your affectionate friend,
"THOMAS SPENCER/'
In the mean time, Mr. Spencer was not confined
•to his own pulpit. He gave his brethren in the
ministry tokens of his affectionate regard, by officia-
ting for them in their respective places : and he
also made several excursions into the country. Mr.
Spencer did not encourage the idea, that as he had
become by voluntary consecration the minister of a
particular ehurch, the church in general had now
lost every claim upon his kind attention. Nor were
the people amongst whom he laboured of a disposi-
tion so selfish and narrow, as to wish to confine his
exertions exclusively to the spot they occupied. That
the first and constant regards cf a pastor are due to
the people of his charge, none can dispute : but
with the work of the pastor, to a certain extent, may
240
with the greatest propriety be added that of an
evangelist. There are surrounding districts that
will often cry to him for help, which he is bound to
render — there are destitute societies to whom he
must minister consolation and instruction, in token
of his brotherly love — and there are interchanges of
friendship, which promote union, which relieve the
mind, and whieh will ever be found beneficial to the
churches by whom they are encouraged. Inter-
course with society informs the judgment — corrects
the views, and expands the mind. Long labour in
one appointed sphere, however important and de-
lightful the duties it involves, and especially where
all the powers of the mind are ever on the stretch,
must produce at length weariness, sameness, monot-
ony. A visit to another scene — intercourse with
other connexions — refreshes and revives the wasted
spirits and the weary frame. And the church, how-
ever they may value their pastor's ministry and re-
gret his absence, will not eventually be losers by the
temporary privation they may suffer.
But we must, however reluctant, pass on to the
closing scenes of Mr. Spencer's life. As his death
was sudden, I have none of those sayings or senti-
ments to record which occupy the last pages of most
biographical sketches of departed saints ; and yet
his friends remember, with peculiar pleasure, in
what a holy frame of mind he appeared to be during
the whole of the week previous to his removal. If I
should be more minute than may be deemed abso-
lutely necessary in what remains of these imperfect
memoirs of this lovely youth, 1 trust that I shall be
forgiven. I write for friendship; and lo his friends
241
it must afford peculiar gratification to follow him
through all the scenes he visited, and mark the
slightest movements of his mind during the last
week of his residence on this earth.
Qri Sabbath day, July 28, being the day appointed
for a collection for the new chapel, Mr. Spencer
preached a most excellent sermon in the morning
from Ezra ix. 8. ' dnd now for a little space grace
has been shelved from the Lord our God to leave tis a
remnant to escape, and to give us a nail in his holy
2)lace, that our God may lighten our eyes, and give us
a little reviving in our bondage.' In the evening his
text was Acts xiii. 26, 'To you is the word of this
salvation sent.' On that day he exerted himself
greatly, and complained much of a pain at his heart,
but did not seem at night particularly fatigued. The.
following day he spent chiefly in conversation with
his friends respecting the state of the church, and
some candidates for communion who were to be visit
ted and received during that week — he dined at the
house of a friend — in the afternoon visited the sick
room of one of his members — and in the evening at-
tended the prayer meeting at the chapel, when he
recapitulated the outline of a sermon which had
been preached on the Wednesday evening preceding,
by the Rev. Mr. Davies, of London. His memory
was remarkably retentive, and ho gave in that exer-
cise a proof of its powers, which astonished all that
heard him. That evening he slept in Liverpool,
and carlv on Tuesdav morning he went with a friend
* JO
to Preseot and laid the foundation stone of a new
chapel there, and delivered an address adapted to
the occasion, in the presence of a large assembly.
21
21*
■in
From the ground he retired to the house of a gentle-
;nan in Prescot, whose child he then baptized, and
so proceeded immediately to St. Helen's, a town
about four miles distant, where lie preached in the
evening. On Wednesday afternoon he returned
much fatigued to Liverpool, hut preached in the
evening with great animation, from a text selected
for him, by one of the young persons of his church ;
Rev. xi. 2, 'Nevertheless I have somewhat against
thee) because thou hast left thy first love* 9 The Rev.
Mr. Wray, the missionary at Demerara, was then
in Liverpool, and was at the chapel. A friend who
saw Mr. Spencer in the vestry after service, ob-
served him to be much exhausted, and heard him
say, for the first time, " Oh ! I did not feel comfort-
able in seeing a brother minister in the congregation
this evening." Usually he did not fear the face of
man. On Thursday, about noon, one of his deacons
called upon him at his residence, and he was occu-
pied the whole day with him in visiting those who
were to be received into the church; his conversa-
tions, with the respective candidates, were truly ad-
mirable and appropriate, and such as will remain in
the grateful memory of those who had the happiness
to enjoy them. On Friday he was occupied until
the afternoon in writing letters to his friends. I am
able to present the reader with extracts from two
of them.
Jhi gust 2, 1811.
" I lind growing pleasure in my ministerial
employment; this evening 1 have to admit eight new
members to church communion ; indeed mhen I ac*
13
eepted this situation, I never conceived that I
should have half the engagements or duties to at-
leud to, which I now find must be accomplished, if
I would merit the character of an active, useful
minister of religion. I think my recent afflictions,
and the solemn duties which now devolve upon me,
have in a considerable degree chastened my charac-
ter, and imparted, perhaps, a seriousness to my ge-
neral deportment, which may prove highly advanta-
geous to me in future life. How long this will last
I cannot tell, but 1 think affliction- adds a weight to
a character nothing else does, and especially to
young people and young ministers. I have lately
been preaching in the villages round Liverpool. —
Oh ! let us aim to glorify God, and then trust all
our concerns in his hands, that so at the last we mav
he accepted of him."
In another, to his father, he says ;
" I was much hurt at the account of my mother"**
illness s I hope no distressing circumstances have
arisen, and by this time, perhaps, I may indulge the
idea that you are better yourself. Oh ! how neces-
sarv that we should all seek a better country, since
here there is so much change, affliction, and wo.
May every trial be sanctified to us all, and we be
meetened for the inheritance of the saints in Kent"
Having concluded his earthly correspondence with
his distant friends, foreveiyf he left his residence
* His step-mother.
f His correspondence with his beloved and honoured parent
has been recently renewed. Spencer's father sleeps the sleep
of death \ his body rests in his bed, but his spirit walks in
214
and resumed his pastoral visits amongst his people*
and the candidates who were to be that evening re-
ceived. At the church meeting he was particularly
lively ; with holy joy he welcomed the new members
into the communion of the church, and as he gave to
each the right hand of fellowship, he addressed a
short but most affectionate and solemn exhortation,
admirably adapted to their respective ages, stations,
and feelings.* Indeed, all the duties of the pastor's
its uprightness. He was a venerable saint. Few have felt the
pressure of trials such as his, and few have displayed a spirit
more uncomplaining and resigned. He walked with God
Kepeatedly before his departure he assured his family that he
was going to glory. And on the 25th of December, 1812, his
happy spirit was dismissed to the enjoyment of its rest.
* At the church-meeting, with great emphasis, he gave out,
the following hymn, from Kelly's collection :
RECEIVING A MEMBER.
«• COME in thou blessed of thp T,nrd,
Enter in Jesus' precious name :
We welcome thee with one accord,
And trust the Saviour does the same.
Thy name, 'tis hop'd, already stands,
Mark'd in the book of life above;
And now to thine we join our hands,
In token of fraternal love.
Those joys which earth cannot afford,
We'll seek in fellowship to prove ;
Join'd in one spirit to our Lord,
Together bound by mutual love.
And while we pass this vale of tears,
We'll make our joys and sorrows known ;
£43
office' were conducted by him with a propriety anil
an ease, which years of experience are frequently
unable to supply. With the unaffected simplicity of
youth, he tempered the dignity of age — he seemed to
be at once at home in the duties of his new and im-
portant station — never embarrassed or confused ; he
appeared to have an intuitive perception of what be-
longed to his character and office, in every case as it
arose; and following the inward suggestion, he ac-
quitted himself well, and discharged with undeviat-
ing consistency the high responsibilities he bore.
After the meeting, Mr. Spencer spent the evening
in , serious conversation with a few friends ; leading
with great fervour the devotions of the family, and
closing a day of sacred duties, with uncommon calm-
ness and placidity of mind.
The following morning, Saturday, he spent in his
study, in preparations for the pulpit. In the course
of the day he wrote to a young lady, one of the num-
ber received, the preceding evening, into his church —
at the close of the note he said
" I suppose you anticipate to-morrow with feel-
ings of solemnity, you will appear in a new light to
the church of Christ, and the spectators of our holy
solemnities ; we shall share to-morrow Zioirs chief
feast. May the blessing of the God of ordinance*
We'll share each other's hopes and fears,
And count another's care our own.
s
Once more our welcome we repeat ;
Jieceive assurance of our love ;
Oh ! may we all together meet
Around the throne of God ;ibove. ,?
*««
346
be upon us all. "Wishing you the enjoyment of pei>
feet health, and much communion with your best
Friend,
u I remain, &c.
« THOMAS SPENCER."
After dinner on the Saturday, the conversation
turned upon a passage in Ezekiel — " / will cause
you to pass under the rod, and I will bring you
into the bond of the covenant ;" from which Mr.
Spencer took occasion to speak much at large up-
on the nature and stability of the covenant of grace.
In the evening he met the Rev. Messrs. Charrier,
Lister, and Wray, the missionary, together with Mr.
Laird, of Greenock, and others, at the house of a
friend. It was a pleasant interview, and in reflec-
tion has afforded to the persons who composed that
social party the sincerest pleasure. To his most
intimate friends, it is a source of much satisfaction,
that his pastoral engagements that week were such
as every day to bring him into their society — so that
they had constant intercourse with their departed
friend — and passing with him from house to house can
look back and say, 6 Bid not our hearts burn within
us while he talked to us by the way, and opened
unto us the scriptures.' Like the companion of
Elijah, they walked with him in close connexion
from spot to spot, charmed and edified with the ho-
ly strain of his discourse, and the rising lustre
of his character ; but all unconscious, that whilst
they were thus conversing with him upon earth, the
chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof were pre-
paring to conduct him triumphantly to heave"
217
But the scene closes rapidly upon us. On the
last Sabbath of 1' *7e, August 4th, he rose with
unftsual health and spirits. The family with whom
lie resided always beheld him with peculiar interest
on the morning of the Sabbath, such an air of an-
gelic mildness and composure sat upon his counte-
nance — and so deeply did he seem absorbed in the
contemplation of the sacred duties of the day. That
morning he preached from Jer. xxxi. 3 — > I have
loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore ivith
loving kindness have I drawn thee. 9 The way of
his discussing the subject was simple and interest-
ing : I have drawn thee — to the cross — to the throne
— to the church — were the leading ideas in the
discourse. It was particularly adapted to the oc-
casion, so many new members being that day added
to the church. He afterwards administered the Lord's
supper in a most solemn and affecting manner.
Such as witnessed the scene — and the number of
spectators was about three hundred — bear an unan-
imous testimony to the deep solemnity by which it
was characterized. His appeals to the conscience
were so close and overwhelming — his invitations
to the faint and weary were so pressing and ten-
der — his countenance — his voice — his whole manner
were so expressive of holy fervour, that every eye
was fixed — every heart seemed moved. How long
the impression will remain I cannot tell ; but the
emotions enkindled by the transactions of that day
are yet lively in the hearts of many — and numbers
love to converse upon it, as one of those rare and
highly favoured seasons, in which the distance be-
tween earth and heaven seems annihilated — aud so
£48
transporting is the jay, that whether in the body or
out of the, body, the happy Christian can scarcely
tell ! To a friend, who afterwards hinted that
lie appeared to be very happy in prayer at the
Lord's supper, he replied — « () yes; I thought I
could have prayed, and prayed, arid mounted up to
heaven !" At the close of that memorable service —
one, the ardour of whose feelings age had checked*,
observed, that < ; Mr. Spencer seemed that morning
twenty years older in experience than he really was.''
At dinner he mentioned to the family, that he had
received that morning a letter from a friend in Lon-
don who had been formerly reluctant to his settle-
ment in Liverpool, as though it were not the sphere
designed by Providence for him. He then expressed
the full conviction of his own mind, that he was
precisely where he ought to be — under such an im-
pression, he observed, that he was perfectly satis-
fied and happy ; and added, " if it had not been the
will of God, I should never have settled here.*'
In the evening, in the midst of a throng, such as
is rarely witnessed, and from which hundreds de-
parted unable to gain access, he preached from Luke
x. 42, * One thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen
that good part which shall not he taken away from
her. 9 His chief object in this sermon was to shew?
that communion with the Saviour is the one thing
needful. Throughout the whole discourse, it seemed
as if all the powers of his mind, all the ardour of
his soul were infused into his composition, and his
delivery. In the application, he was uncommonly
urgent with the young — earnestly exhorting them
to an immediate decision on the side of Christ*-
210
representing to them the folly and the danger of de-
ferring the important concerns of salvation and eter-
nity to an uncertain futurity — and assuring them,
that very soon he should meet them at the bar of
God, and that there he should be a swift witness
against them. By those who are best able to decide,
it was observed, that his last sermon was perhaps
the most adapted for usefulness of any he had preach-
ed — and this observation, which was made immedi-
ately after its delivery, has been since most amply
confirmed, in instances perpetually presenting them-
selves, in which that sermon proved instrumental
in effecting the happiest impressions, many of which
have issued in a saving change.
After the labours of the day he went to the house
of a friend to supper ; he did not appear to be
unusually fatigued. With great fervour he led the
devotions of the family. He read a portion of scrip-
ture, and gave out the 165th hymn of the 2d book.
He was remarkably copious and earnest in prayer
—.commending especially to God — the family — the
church — the members who had recently joined — the
missionary, (who was present) and every object to
which his holv and benevolent mind recurred. At
supper the conversation was pure and spiritual —
such as the book of remembrance in heaven pre-
serves — such as will not easily be forgotten upon
earth. The subject was sudden death. The coun-
tenance of Spencer, always animated, was lighted
up with holy joy as he discoursed upon the glory
of departed saints — he seemed to realize the scenes
he attempted to describe, whilst he expressed his
own conceptions of the transport and surprise in
S)«j
which llie disembodied spirit will be lost, when first
admitted to the immediate presence of God. He
spoke much upon the blessedness of putting oft*
the garments of mortality in a moment, and being
naught up unexpectedly and instantaneously to heav-
en ! He seemed to lose the memory of the day's
fatigue in the interesting theme, and frequently ob-
served, that he had not for a long time felt him-
self so free from weariness. A little after eleven,
he parted with his friends forever. Never did they
discover more of the warmth of his friendship, or
the ardour of his piety, than in this last, happy in-
terview. His countenance seemed eradiated with
smiles of ineffable benignity — his whole deportment
indicated a mind abstracted from the world, except
so far as bound to it by the benevolent desire of doing
good, and wholly devoted to communion and fellow -
ship with God. So mature indeed did his charac-
ter appear — so ripe did he seem for glory, that some
of his friends could not but entertain a presentiment
of his early removal. Though not then elevated
to a higher sphere, he still appeared mysterious-
ly weaned from earth. His loins were girt, and his
lamp burning with unusual brightness, as (hough
he expected the coming of his Lord. In its an-
ticipations of future glory, his happy spirit seemed
to try its pinions, preparatory to the glorious flight
ft was about to take.
On Monday morning, August the 5th, the last day
that dawned for him, he rose rather later than usual ;
his mind was too active for his body : the exhausted
frame required rest. After breakfast, he received a
visit from a younc lad v. one of the members latelv
admitted into the church. He entered the room Witfa
a cheerful smile ; and the family having retired af-
ter some general conversation, he said, •' Well,
M , von are now a member of a Christian
church; yesterday you solemnly professed your faith
iu Christ, while the attention of many of our fellow
creatures was fixed on you ; God also beheld your
profession — all heaven and hell witnessed the so-
lemnity." On her expressing some fears lest she
should be unable to act consistently with the profes-
sion she had made, he replied, "Live near to Christ
— be much in communion with your own heart — be
very frequent in addresses at a throne of grace, and
'.here is no fear of you." Then referring to the long
and agonizing distress which he had suffered through
the alarming indisposition of his dearest connexions,
and which seemed now happily removing, he said,
" This severe affliction has not heen sent, but for
reasons the wisest and the best ; from it I have
learned many lessons, and have enjoyed much of the
presence of God under it. O may my heart be fil* d
with gratitude to Him who is the author of all our
mercies." He frequently bathed : he found it bene-
ficial to his health. He purposed doing so that day,
and had expressed his intention in the morning. He
had just repeated the first verse of Co\vpei T s admi-
rable hvmn, —
" Cod moves in a rr.vsterious Witf.
His wonders to perform ;
He plants bis footsteps in the se;>,
And rides upon the storm,"
when one of the family came into the room, and
s-:u'i. that if ho intended bathing, it was time (hat
252
he should go. as it would very soon be high water.
He assented ; but whilst a towel was being procured
for him, he turned to his young friend, and said, "I
can't tell how it is, but I don't feel so much inclined
to go, to-day, as usual." She asked if it was
thought good for his health — he answered " Yes, it
will brace my nerves after the exertion of yester-
day." And, indeed, he had an immediate object in
view, for he had folded his paper, and prepared his
pen, in order to compose a sermon to be preached in
the course of the ensuing week, on behalf of the Reli-
gious Tract Society, in London ; and he was anxious
that, by bathing, his mind might be invigorated for
study, as he had frequently observed it to have that
pleasing influence. Mr. Spencer and his friend left
the house together, when turning towards the water,
he said, "I must go this way." They parted. His
friend sought again the bosom of her family — he
went the way whence he never returned !
The following pages of this history must be filled
wkh weeping, and lamentation, and wo. They
must detail as sad a catastrophe as ever humanity
or religion mourned. With cheerfulness Mr. Spen-
cer took the path which leads across the fields to-
wards the Herculaneum potteries, a little above
which it was his design to bathe. The eye of his
friend, beneath whose roof he dwelt, followed him
til! distance hid him from his sight. Arrived at the
spot which he had selected, not so much from a
knowledge of the ground, as from the circumstance
of its retirement, he asked a gentleman, who had
been bathing, and who then was dressing, " if that
was a good place to bathe at P" — he answered that
253
it was, but that it was rather stony rear the side,
but better when further in. Mr. Spencer replied,
•• I rather think that it is a good plaee myself, and
I don't like to bathe near the pottery, there are so
many people." Mr. 8. then asked again, ** Is the
tide nigh up ?" to which he was answered, <; About
half past eleven." " Oh ! dear," said Mr. Spencer,
" it is near twelve." — As this conversation passed,
Mr. Spencer was undressing, and, at intervals, hum-
ming a tune. When undressed, he walked towards
the water, and spoke to a workman belonging to the
pottery, of the name of Potter, who also was bath-
ing, and who directed him which way to come into
the water. While walking in, Mr. Spencer observ-
ed, that it was very cold — to which Potter replied,
u You will not find it so cold when in." Potter then
plunged into the water about breast high, and when
he next saw Mr. Spencer, he was swimming within
1- is depth, but soon afterwards the tide swept him
round an abrupt projecting rock, where the water
was from six to seven feet. Potter himself, who is
an expert swimmer, soon found the current driving
him round the same rock; but he immediately, with
difficulty, swam to the shore, when he looked about
for Mr. Spencer, and, not seeing him, was much
alarmed. At length, after the lapse of a minute or
two, he saw the top of his head floating above the
surface of the water. Potter could not tell whether
lie was amusing himself or drowning. He however
cried out to him ; but receiving no answer, plunged
in again, and swam to the rock, in order to render
him assistance — but found it impossible — Mr. Spen-
cer having sunk in seven feet water, and the currents
ct >
254
being remarkably strong. Potter, with considerable
trouble, and not till some time had elapsed, got up
the side of the rock, and communicated the intelli-
gence to Mr. Smith, of the potteries, who immedi-
ately ordered out two boats, which were directly
manned and brought to the spot, when every exer-
tion was made to find the body.
I have frequently examined the place ; indeed, I
lake a mournful pleasure in visiting the scene ; and
1 have sought the opinion of medical gentlemen re-
specting the immediate cause of Mr. Spencer's death.
The spot is most unfavourable for safe and pleasant
bathing. Whoever sees it at low water, is astonish-
ed that any person, acquainted with the nature of
lli" shore, should venture there. There is a ridge
of sharp and slippery rock, running in a curved di-
rection, for many yards, into the water, and termi-
nating abruptly ; on either side of this most rugged
ridge the fall is instantaneous, and from one to two
{Vet. It is highly probable, then, that Mr. S. swim-
ming, as was described, along by the shore, might
bring himself up immediately on the edge of this
treacherous rock, which being slippery, deceived
him, and by suddenly precipitating him into deeper
water, caused a spasmodick fear — a combination of
instantaneous terror and spasm, — which directly
suspended the functions of life, and he sunk, without
further agitation or conflict, in the arms of death.
" So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping- head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames In the forehead of the morning sky ;
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
255
Through the dear might of him that walk'dthe waves ;
AVhere, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of iov and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing in their glory, move,
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes,"
In the meanwhile, the gentleman whom Mr. Spen-
cer first addressed, returned, and, discovering the
sad event, apprized them that it was Mr. Spencer,
the minister, who was lost. Potter renewed his ex-
ertions to find the body, assisted by the people in
the boats, in which they at length succeeded, after
it had been under water about fifty minutes. By
this time the melancholy tidings had spread abroad ;
and happily some gentlemen of the faculty being in
the neighbourhood, and hearing of the event, has-
tened immediately to the spot, so that, ere the find-
ing of the body, every thing was in readiness for
instantly commencing the resuscitating process.
When drawn from the water, the body exhibited
no symptoms of violence or struggle in the act of
dying — the countenance was placid and serene — its
features were perfectly undisturbed, and so lovely
was its expression in death, that one of the medi-
cal attendants observed, — a painter could not de-
sire a finer object !
On the arrival of the body on the beach, the water
was easily expelled, and being then wrapped up in
flannel, it was immediately conveyed to the house of
Mr, Smith, where, by the kind exertions of the fam-
255
il y, every necessary arrangement had been made for
its reception. .
The apparatus having arrived from Liverpool,
and three medical gentlemen being present to re-
ceive the body, the usual methods adopted in cases of
suspended animation were instantly pursued. They
were soon joined by three other gentlemen of the
faculty, who rendered every possible assistance ; ev-
ery expedient was, in the course of the afternoon,
resorted to — but alas in vain ! and at five o'clock,
in the opinion ct all present, there remained not the
faintest hope of restoring animation — the spark of
life was totally extinguished.
Thus, in one sad moment, was lost to society and
to the church of Christ, one of the loveliest of men —
one of the most eloquent of ministers : upon whose
lips, only the preceding day, hundreds had hung
VI ith delight, and the lang continued and extended
exertion of whose powers, in a larger sanctuary,
the foundation of which he had but recently laid,
thousands anticipated with eager desire! To tell
bow many hearts have bled, beneath this awful visi-
tation, would require a fortitude which I do not pos-
sess — and constitute a volume, not surpassed, in the
anguish which it would describe, by any similar ca-
tastrophe in the records of human wo. The tidings
spread through the populous town of Liverpool, with
a rapidity, such as, in cases of public calamity, is
usually inspired. They circulated through all ranks,
and excited one common feeling of regret in every
bosom. They reached the exchange, and produced
an extraordinary impression there ; those who knew
Hjm ; mourned the loss of one they loved—and thoss
257
who knew him not, felt the agitation of that sudden
shock, which the premature removal of such men
occasions — they participated in the general sympa-
thy—and deplored the loss of Spencer, as an event
demanding general regret ! Numbers hastened to the
spot. Some incredulous, to obtain the sad assurance
of the truth — .and others to enjoy the mournful satis-
faction of beholding that countenance in death, on
which they had often gazed with transport, when
kindled into radiance by the ardour of the soul that
lately animated it. All was confusion and distress.
Such a day has been seldom seen in Liverpool : a
day of such dreadful gloom — such universal grief.
From the countenance of every one, to whom the
tidings came, one might have imagined he had lost a
friend ; — whilst many, to whom by intimate acquain-
tance he had become peculiarly endeared — petrified
at first with mingled horror and surprise, when re-
collection and feeling returned, yielded, for awhile,
to the influence of the deepest sorrow.
The estimation in which Mr. Spencer was held
in Liverpool was most decidedly marked after his
decease. The public prints severally bore testimony
to his worth, and pronounced a warm, but just
eulogium on his extraordinary merits : the intro-
duction of some extracts will not be unsuitable here.
" Mr. Spencer was about twenty years of age ; in
his person and countenance eminently prepossessin
and of manners most amiable, conciliating, and en
gaging. As a preacher, his talents were held in a.
degree of estimation, and possessed an extent of
influence, which have seldom been equalled in tlte
annals of pulpit eloquence. His discourses were
3>
♦ > >
258
rather persuasive and hortatory, than argumentath e
or disquisitive : they were addressed more to the
imagination and affections, than to the judgment t
and this, apparently, not so much from any deficien-
cy of talent, as. from a firm persuasion, that, in mat-
ters of religion, the avenues to the understanding
are chiefly to be sought in the heart. His sermons,
thus constituted, were adorned with a felicity of ex-
pression, and delivered in an unremitted fluency of
language, altogether surprising in extemporaneous
discourses. These essenital qualities of eloquence
were assisted by an uncommonly distinct articulation,
a tone of voice singularly melodious, and great
gracefulness of action. Thus gifted by nature, and
improved by cultivation, it is not surprising that he
possessed the power of attaching an audience, in a
manner that will never be forgotten by those Mho
attended his ministry. Perhaps it scarcely ever be-
fore fell to the lot of any individual, at so early an
age, to have diffused religious impression through so
extensive a circle of hearers ; and those who looked
forward to the maturity of his powers, with the
hope naturally inspired by his early excellence, will
tegard his loss as a public misfortune."
" The deceased was about twenty years of age,
a youth of amiable and engaging manners ; and his
pulpit talents were so far above his years, as to ob-
tain for him a large share of public admiration and
popularity. His premature death has most deeply
affected the feelings of his numerous friends, who
looked forward to the maturity of his early powers,
with the highest hope of obtaining in him a most Ya~
luable accession to the dissenting ministry.*'
259
But at tlie solemnities of Interment, the strong* -.•<
demonstration of public feeling was afforded. The
concourse of people assembled to witness or assist
in the last sad token of respect to his remains was
never, perhaps, equalled in Liverpool. Religion,
Humanity, Friendship, and Genius, mingled their
tears at his grave. The funeral took place on Tues-
day, the 13th August, 1811 : the procession moved
from the Park about eleven in the morning, in the
following order:—
The Gentlemen of the Faculty ;
Ministers, four abreast ;
Cfie IBctrj),
The Pall supported by ten Ministers, five on each side $
The Mourners ;
Friends of the deceased,
To the number of One Hundred and Thirty,
With white hat-bands and gloves,
Six abreast.
,. All the streets through which the procession pass-
ed were crowded to excess, as also were the windows
and balconies of the houses. But the greatest deco-
rum was observed — and a seriousness, according
with the solemn occasion, was manifested by all.
The corpse was borne into the chapel, late the scene
of Mr. Spencer's labours, and the Rev. Mr. Charrier,
of Bethesda chapel, read part of the 15th chapter of
the 1st of Corinthians, and the 4th and 5th of the 1st
of Thessalonians, and offered a most solemn prayer.
At the grave an eloquent and impressive oration was
delivered by the Rev. Joseph Fletcher, A. M. of
Blackburn. The mournful service was concluded
260
by a prayer from the Rev. Mr. Lister, of Lime street
chapel.
" The whole scene,*' a Liverpool journal observes,
6i was affecting — it could not be otherwise. Every
idea which could be associated with the spectacle
was such as to excite the deepest sympathy. The
flower of youth, scarcely opened, snatched from the
stem of life by a sudden and rude attack of mortality :
a minister, who lately fixed the attention of crowded
audiences by the power of his eloquence, conveyed to
the house of silence and darkness : the fairest pros-
pects of honour and usefulness in life blasted ; the
warm hopes of his friends wrecked in a moment ;
and the deep, the dreadful wound inflicted in the
feelings of relatives, and the dearest connexions.
Such, however, are the appointments of a supreme
governing Intelligence, to which human choice and
wishes must bow with reverence, supported by the
general principle of the justice, wisdom, and benevo-
lence, which direct the affairs of men. Similar afflic-
tions are of frequent occurrence in private life,
though they there pass unnoticed. Public characters
excite attention both in their zenith and fall ; and so
far as society is bereft of virtue, useful talents, and
active zeal, their death is a public calamity."
On the following Sunday evening, a funeral ser-
mon was preached at Newington Chapel, by the Rev.
William Roby, of Manchester, from Ifeb. xiii. 7, 8,
s Remember them who have the ride over you, who
have spoken unto you the word of God ; whose faith
follow, considering the end of their conversation :
Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for-
ever. 9 This sermon, so admirably adapted to sooth
261
the disconsolate congregation to whom it was ad-
dressed, has been presented to them, by its respected
author, from the press.
But not in Liverpool alone was the shock of Mr.
Spencer's death felt — or the loss occasioned by his
sudden removal deplored. Scarcely Mas there a dis-
trict in Britain to which the melancholy tidings did
not reach. The universal esteem in which the be-
loved youth was held, was manifested by the numer-
ous sermons which were preached throughout the
country, to embalm his memory, and to improve his
death. In London several were delivered, — many
singularly eloquent and appropriate ; several have
issued from the press, and have been noticed in the
preceding pages. The sympathy awakened for the
mourning church, was as general as the regret occa-
sioned by their pastors death. Of Spencer it may
be truly said, * devout men carried him to his burial,
and made "rcai lamentation over him, 9 whilst the
situation of his bereaved people, excited in every bo-
som compassion and grief, 'for they were left as
sheep without a shepherd.'
It now remains that I present the reader with a
general sketch of Mr. Spencer's character. The
opportunity afforded in such works as these, of il-
lustrating great and important principles, in their
influence upon human conduct, ought to be seized
with avidity, and improved with care. In this re-
spect Biography is particularly valuable, and pos
sesses a considerable advantage over general his-
tory. The subjects and characters of general his-
tory are numerous, complicated, and often but indis-
tinctly seen — here the object is single. The mind
262
dwells, without diversion or distraction, on the char-
acter presented to its contemplation. Being reliev-
ed from the toil which*variety occasions, it has
leisure to dwell upon its several features, and to
observe their mutual influence or associated har-
mony. The scenes and events of an individual's
life, when faithfully and judiciously recorded, are
admirably adapted to deveiope the formation of
character-— whilst lessons of wisdom, and principles
of action are better understood and more correctly
appreciated, when drawn out in the scenes of ac-
tual life, than they possibly can be, when simply,
and abstractedly delivered. And, moreover, the pe-
culiar sentiments which the delineation of certain
characters is especially calculated to illustrate, arc
retter remembered, when associated with names,
with places, and with deeds ; whilst they make a far
deeper impression upon the heart, from the circum-
stance that their natnre and tendency are at once
demonstrated, by the actual consequences to which,
in these individual cases, they have led. In the
pages of the biographer, the man lives again for
us. " Being dead he yet speaketh." We are put
in possession, in an hour or two, of knowledge,
which it cost him years of anxious labour io acquire.
We obtain confidence — we awake to an honourable
ambition — we feel the animating influence of hope,
whilst we mark the excellencies of his character,
and the successful labours of his life. Self-exami-
nation is induced, by a contemplation of his failings
— and caution, by the disclosure of his errors. Hu-
mility is promoted, by observing with how much
.'mpfTfVctioij the noblest and the loveliest quality
33
hi man are unhappily combined — and the provision
which the gospel makes for our final acceptance
with God, derives importance and value from the
assurance, which every faithful piece of biography
must tend to establish, — that the purest character
— the fairest life, must sink before the high stand-
ard and demands of Jehovah's perfect law.
In calling the attention of my readers to views,
of Mr. Spencer's character, I am aware that the
objection may be started — that in one so young, a
character could hardly be formed at all. The ob-
jection is founded in reason. But although his
character had not obtained its maturity — or assum-
ed those fixed and established habits, with which
years and experience would have invested it — still
it had arrived at such a stage of its progress, as
already to present strong lines, and obvious fea-
tures. Some, so deeply marked as to be recognised
by all who knew him — and others, upon the infancy
of which, the eves of his most intimate associates
dwelt, with unspeakable delight. And, young as it
was, the character of Spencer at the age of tiventy,
was such, as even an aged Christian might not blush
to own. I have often gazed, with pleasure, on the
animating picture which my fancy drew, when it
has added years of experience and of culture, to
what was the character of Spencer at his death,
and imaged to itself what, after the lapse of time,
that character might possibly have been ; and when
recalled from the delightful reverie, I have mourned
that the lovely object existed only in my fancy. But
Ave do wrong to mourn, His removal from our world
was the dictate alike of Infinite Wisdom and Lore.
8
And the time appointed for his departure was the
best, flis character had attained that degree of ma-
turity, for which God had destined it, on earth— lie
had performed the service which he was called to
accomplish in the church. His sun rose with almost
unexampled rapidity to its meridian — his work was
completed with prodigious speed — yet, having reach-
ed his appointed elevation, and performed his allot-
ted labour — that was the suitable period for his re-
moval. He had witnessed as much impression and
effect, in his short ministry, as many an aged pastor
would rejoice to observe, after years of incessant
toil. Can his death be considered, then, as prema-
ture ? If one labourer accomplishes his share of the
day's exertion an hour or two earlier than his com-
panions, may he not be permitted to retire to his
rest before them ? — Spencer has finished his course
— he rests from his labours — and his works do fol-
low him.
AS A MAN,
He was generous — frank — independent, — un-
affected — unsuspecting — and sincere. Gen-
erous ; his heart, his hand, and his purse, were
ever at the service of the needy, and cheerfully de-
voted to the cause of Christ. An instance of his
generosity has been recorded in the preceding nar-
rative — that of his usually adding to the collection,
when he preached for the benefit of a poor church
that had an aged minister. One of the last acts of
Jiis life was an act of benevolence ; he had no money
about him, al the time of his death, for he had empti-
ed his pockets to a poor person, previous to his leav-
ing the house on the morning of that awful day. Hud
ZS5
G
he Jived to be the possessor of a Louse, and the
head of a family, from him the apostolic injunction,
'given to hospitality J would have met with a spon-
taneous acquiescence. Unhappily, this qualification
of a Christian bishop, some of our worthy pastors
have it not in their power to display ! Frank ;
he was open and ingenuous; his sentiments were
ever undisguised ; his language spoke correctly
what lie thought and felt ; and his countenance was
an index to his mind. Truly was it said of him,
that he carried his heart in a crystal vase, so that
all could see it. His opinions he never attempted to
conceal 5 his attachments and his dislikes were,
with equal freedom and sincerity, declared. The
prudent will say, it displayed but little knowledge of
mankind; true: he was ignorant, and therefore un-
suspecting, and often unguarded. He did not cal-
culate upon treachery, under the garb of friendship —
or censorious observation, in the social circle. Alas!
that experience should only tend to make a man sus-
picious, and intercourse with society render him
sceptical in his opinions of his fellow men ! Inde-
pendent ; perhaps, too much so, for his station as a
minister of the gospel, and especially as the pastor
of a church. He had his partialities and predilec-
tions, — every man must have them — he cannot be
brought, by any discipline, to love that which is to-
tally uncongenial to his taste and habits, however
he may be inclined to cherish and testify a deference
and respect. But these predilections, Spencer was
ever ready to declare ; and such was his indepen-
dent spirit, that no consideration of interest could
induce him to utter a compliment or pay an atten-
23
tion which was foreign from his purpose, or < -
pugnant (o his feelings. To all, he cheerfully paid
(he regard which the obligations of his station
claimed; but only with such as his heart and feel-
ings approved, did he share the social intercourse,
or the endearments of friendship. And, surely, a
man in public life, whilst he pays to all around
him such attentions as the functions of his office
involve, has a right to select the individuals with
whom he will share the social hour, or to whom
he may commit the more sacred and retired feel-
ings of his heart. Yet, even here, prudence would
suggest certain cautions, particularly adapted to
the very delicate circumstances in which the pas-
tor of a church is placed. Unaffected; every
thing like affectation and display, he abhorred — ev-
ery thing feminine and soft in manners, he exces-
sively disliked. His own were the reverse ; they
were characterized by impetuosity and boldness —
a decision and a promptitude marked every thing
he did. There was often a carelessness about his
dress, arising from that indifference to shew and
decoration, which, in every thing, he displayed.
80 neglectful was he of his appearance, that he
did not wear a watch, till urged repeatedly by
the want of it, he at length purchased one. He
observed to a friend a circumstance connected with
the purchase of this watch, not perhaps unworthy
of insertion. He asked the man of whom he bought
the watch, if what he demanded was his lowest
price ? " Yes, Sir," said the man; "I heard you
preach upon seeing Abraham, and Isaac, and Ja-
cobj in the kingdom of God, and I will not ovcr-
.
267
charge yon.'' He loved to preach in a gown ; it
tended, he said, to conceal his youth, and give
weight to his sermon, — otherwise he was indiffer-
ent about it. How far this may be considered as
sufficient reason for wearing a gown, I cannot de-
termine : certainly, there are matters of higher mo-
ment than this; and it is surely cause of regret,
that great and good men should ever grow warm,
and say or do strong things, upon a subject, con-
fessedly so inferior in importance. — Unsuspecting
— he formed an estimate of every individual's bo-
som by the ingenuousness of his own ; no wonder
then, if sometimes he should have erred, and the
error prove a source of poignant anguish and un-
availing regret. He who has never seen a storm,
may, all unconscious of his danger, trust the sy-
ren sea; but he who has endured the tempest will
mark well the signs of the sky, ere he tempt the
treacherous element that has once deceived, ■
Sincere ; to have his hand, was to possess his heart;
and where he could not give the latter, he never
presented the former. Whatever he said, he utter-
ed from conviction ; and on every assurance, the
firmest reliance might be placed.
AS A FRIEND,
He was warm — disinterested — and affection-
ate. The fervour of his friendship is sufficiently
displayed in the correspondence preserved in the
preceding pages. His whole soul seems infused into
his paper; and, if such were his letters, happy must
they esteem themselves who were favoured \uth
Kis private walks and most retired intercourse'
Z$8
(i Kis friendship, I can truly say," observes hi.*;
most intimate companion, " has given me one of
the most lively views that I ever enjoyed of union
and communion with the spirits of just men made
perfect. — I shall not easily forget the impression of
awe upon my mind while hearing him preach at
White's Row, from these words : — i Because there
is wrath, beware lest he take thee away at a stroke,
then a great ransom cannot deliver thee.'" I thought,
[ surely can never more use the freedom of friend-
ship with him. But at his descent from the pul-
pit, his sparkling eye, friendly squeeze, and affec-
tionate pressure of my arm to his side as we return-
ed, convinced me that he was still the humble,
interesting youth with whom I had taken svveet
counsel, and walked to that house of God." Nor
was he guided in the formation of his friendships
by a principle of interest. This indeed governs
J he world in their associations :-—
" And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep.'*
But he sought not high connexions — exalted friend-
ships — or splendid alliances — he shrunk from gran-
deur, pomp, and parade — he felt uneasy when
surrounded by any thing like splendour — he pre-
ferred the calm mediocrity of life, as furnishing,
for the most part, excellence in character, and
eomfort in intercourse! Of his affection, it were
in vain to speak — no language can describe all
the tenderness of his affectionate heart — affection
%69
the purest and most refined. The following is the
testimony of one who deeply participated in it: —
" And surely I may experimentally say, that a
more affectionate spirit than that of Spencer never
animated a fallen sou of Adam. When we first met
he unbosomed himself, freely claimed my frieuship,
with an affection that overpowered me, and entreat-
ed the fidelity of friendship, charging me to watch
him narrowly, and point out every imperfection. If
ever the delightful scene recorded 1 Samuel xviii. 1,
was reiterated, (and doubtless it often has been) it
was when Spencer had made an end of speaking.
But proofs of the affection of Spencer's heart are
totally unnecessary. I shall mention one only. Soon
after we became acquainted, he used to call ge-
nerally on a Saturday evening — f Well, where shall
you be to-morrow ? with Mr. Foster, I suppose.'
* Why, I suppose so too, unless you draw me away.'
* I am sure I should be sorry to draw you away,
if you do not see it right : I am sure you must be a
loser by hearing me instead of Mr. Foster ; yet
if you could see it right, I should be very glad.'
When he preached in the country, he used, he said,
to look round for a retired corner for me, such as
I should like, if there. At Hoxtou, he pointed out
a seat for me, and when he rose from prayer, used
to see if I filled it."
AS A STUDENT
He was diligent — conscientious — and success-
ful. — Diligent ; to a habit of study he had been inur-
ed almost from his infancy — the elements of know-
ledge he obtained under peculiar difficulty — and had
*23
he not been inspired by an ardent love of that sa-
cred work, for (he honourable discharge of which.
he deemed the acquisition of human learning ne-
cessary, his name would probably never have beett
known beyond the circles of his native town. But
he longed for the acquisition of knowledge, not from
a principle of self-gratification, or the love of fame,
hut as an auxiliary to his great design. Impel-
led by such a powerful principle, he sought for
it with unceasing avidity — and laboured in its pur-
suit with unconquerable ardour. But it was his lot
to meet with a continued chain of obstacles to the
free and ample gratification of his taste for learn-
ing. In his childhood, the circumstances of his fam-
ily were inauspicious, and he was compelled, at a
period when the powers of his mind were unfold-
ing, to devote those hours to manual labour, winch
he would have gladly consecrated to books. The
year he spent at Harwich was the only year of
uninterrupted study he enjoyed ; for very 9oon af-
ter his entrance into Hoxton Academy he began to
preach — and then, his popularity formed a most se-
lious and insurmountable barrier — whilst, after his
settlement in the ministry, the important duties of
his new an;l extensive sphere of action forbad the
indulgence of any pursuits in private, but such as
bore immediately upon his public work.
These circumstances, however, taught him the
value of retirement, and instructed him in the hap-
py art of husbanding his time. This art he cul-
tivated with conscientious care — and whoever con-
templates the numerous papers he has left behind,
and compares them with the public engagements
£71
lie performed, must be sensibly impressed with a
conviction of his diligence. He never entered the pul-
pit without previous preparation. Most of his ser-
mons were written throughout, except the heads of
application, in which he usually trusted to the ar-
dour of his mind, enkindled by the subject which
lie had discussed, and gujded by a holy influ-
ence. Not that he slavishly committed his compo-
sitions to his memory, and delivered them by
rote. For, although his discourses were thus pre-
fomposed, and numbers of them remain, yet not one
conveys a correet idea of what his preaching actu-
ally icas. The reason is, that in the pulpit lie fol-
lowed, not so much the impression of his writ-
Jen language on the memory, as the holy and ar-
dent bias of his soul, flowing in the channel which
be had previously prepared. The sermon in the
«<1udy was completely formed — correctly arranged
and well connected — but to the lifeless form, deli-
neated on his paper, and impressed upon his me-
mory, in the pulpit he imparted a living soul : a
principle of ardent piety, which operated as a charm,
the power of which faw were able to resist.
Indeed so uniform was his habit of preparation
for the pulpit, that when called upon suddenly to
address some young persons, he said to a friend, " I
wish you would address the children for me this
afternoon ; I have not prepared any thing — I have
not considered a subject for them, and I would not
offer, even to a child, that which cost me nothing/'
But although this was his usual custom, vet,
when extraordinary circumstances conspire to render
a departure from it necessary, he could, with the
greatest propriety and ease, delight and interest
an audience from the rich treasures of his exalted
mind. One instance of his powers, in extemporary
and unpremeditated address, is related of him in
Liverpool. Some important affair of a public na-
ture engaged the general attention of the religions
wor'd, on a Sabbath evening, when as usual he
had to preach ; and, anticipating a thin attendance,
he had prepared a sermon adapted to the suppos-
ed state of his auditory — but, when he reached the
chapel, and saw it filled with anxious crowds, wait-
ing to receive from his lips the words of life — his ar-
dent mind seemed instantly inspired — he immediate-
ly fixed upon a passage more adapted to the scene,
and with his pencil sketched the outline of a dis-
course, which, perhaps, in the whole series of his
ministry, he never excelled.
But Air. Spencer's diligence did not expend itself
on commentators and elaborate pulpit compositions —
he endeavoured to study Providence — to improve
events — and, so far as he had opportunity, to read
mankind. His sentiments on this subject may be in
the recollection of the reader.* I believe he uni-
formly acted in accordance with them; and especial-
ly had an opportunity of doing this when he became
the pastor of a church. The propriety — the impor-
tance — the utility of this kind of study, to a minister,
is too obvious to need discussion. To its aid may
be attributed, in a great measure, that adaptation to
the ever varying scenes of the Christian life, which
the sermons of Spencer usually possessed. He stu-
* See page 171.
273
died the characters cf the people of God — he mark-
ed with care the variations of their experience — the
alternation of their feelings — and the vicissitudes of
their enjoyment. Indeed, his knowledge in this re-
spect was most amazing, especially in one so young.
He seemed to know, and sweetly to divulge, what
every Christian felt and mourned—and he had a
balm of consolation for every sorrow he awakened —
every wound he probed — As a student he was
Conscientious. He was so, in maintaining a hab-
it of study, after the restraints of the college were
withdrawn. Too many imagine, that what is im-
properly called, finishing their studies — that is, con-
cluding their academic course, is in fact the legi-
timate close of all mental labour. Upon the stores
then acquired, they are to feed, through the long
years of an extended ministry, the church of God
witb wisdom ai\d knowledge. Alas ! for the people
over whom such a pastor presides. The stores of
that mind must be but scanty at the best, and soon
expended ; what then but mental and spiritual fam-
ine must ensue. Ill does it bode for a congregation,
when their minister is a lover of pleasure — a lover
of society — a lover of mirth — more than a lover of
study. People should remember this, and should act
accordingly. They love to have things brought
from the sacred treasury before them, new as well as
old — but the new cannot be obtained without re-
search, nor the old presented, in an attractive form,
without thought. To all this, time*, and that no
scanty portion, must be devoted. And the hours of
study must be taken either from the day, or from the
night — if from the night, it impairs the health — if
from the day, it must abridge them of their mini*-
ter"s society. A congregation, then, cannot with
justice expect to see their pastor always in their so-
cial circles, and vet demand from him on the Sab-
bath, what much and intense application only can
enable him to produce. A minister worthy of his
peopled affection cannot be too much esteemed, nor
his society too highly valued — but even this autho-
rized attachment may be carried to an injurious
iength — a people may desire too much — God may
gratify their wish — he may send them a busy body
in the form, and with the pretensions of a minister
i — and it may be said of them, ' he gave them their
request, but sent leanness into their soul? For an
unoccupied study, must cause, eventually, an empty
mind.
Mr. Spencer was conscientious in the direction
which he gave to his studies. Aware that he had
but little time for preparatory labour, and a mighty
work before him, we have already seen, that at Hox-
ton, whilst he performed with cheerfulness and credit
the duties of his class, in the various departments
of literature and science, yet he consecrated the first
and most constant exercises of his mind to such
studies as were immediately connected with preach-
ing, and the pastoral office.* And when actually
embarked in hia most arduous profession, the little
time he could procure for study he found loo precious
for the pursuit of any object whose claims, in con-
nexion with the ministry, might hold but a secondary
rank. Hence he pursued not so much the study of
* See png-e 10?.
275
general literature, as that of Theology. Aware
that the sources of this sacred science, are the holy
scriptures, and that to understand them correctly, re-
quires an accurate knowledge of their original lan-
guages, he cultivated with great care, the study of
the Hebrew and the Greek. To the former of these
tongues he was peculiarly attached — his early la-
hours in it have been already stated,* and I believe
that his proficiency bore a just proportion to his ex-
ertions. On Theology he read very extensively, and
for the most part the productions of the puritan di-
vines. His library was small — it was but in its in-
fancy ; but it was well chosen. His study, which
remained precisely in the state in which he left it
on the morning of his death, was an object of con-
siderable curiosity to the inhabitants and visitors of
Liverpool : many judicious and venerable ministers
came to see it, and all expressed their admiration
of the taste which he displayed in the selection of
his books. There was scarcely a volume that did
not bear most obviously on the work of the ministry.
The cast of a man's mind may be gathered from an
inspection of his library, if the volumes composing
it have been of his own selection. Whoever should
form an estimate of Spencer's character from his
books, must pronounce him a sound and well-inform-
ed divine.
As a student he was successful. If a man may-
be deemed successful who accomplishes what he pro-
poses to himself, he certainly was so. He never de-
sired to be a profound mathematician — an acute phi'
* See page 28.
S?6
losopher — or an accomplished classic — but a useful
preacher — a good divine. As a preacher, few could
compare with him — as a divine, he surpassed most
of his contemporaries, of the same age and standing.
But his attainments in classical literature were far
from being scanty ; that he had read the best Greek
and Roman authors, with considerable advantage,
was obvious from the purity and elegance of his
style. And in the perusal of those English writers,
most justly celebrated for the correctness of their
reasoning, and the chasteness of their composition
— he was well trained, whilst under ihe tuition of
his excellent and revered friend at Harwich. Up-
on most subjects he was well informed, and could
converse with ease. He disliked controversy, at any
rate in public, however he might be disposed to try
his strength in private. His chief excellence did not
lie in the power of conducting a deep, an intricate,
and long continued process of reasoning to a trium-
phant close. He rather excelled in clearly unfold-
ing the more prominent features of the gospel — in
stating with correctness the great truths of Christi-
anity, and supporting them by arguments purely
scriptural — for such discussions he was amply fur-
nished. His knowledge of the Bible was most ex-
trusive, and his quotations from it were, in general,
remarkably apt and striking. But it was in prayer,
chiefly, that his familiarity with the Bible was ob-
served. Not a sentiment escaped him, for which
he had not suitable language borrowed from the
scriptures: and this rendered his prayers peculiarly
rich, simple, and appropriate.
W 4
Of elegant accomplishments he possessed but lit-
tle. I believe he never touched the pencil. He was
fond of music, but he used no instrument, and though
perpetually humming tunes to favourite hymns, he
Mas not a good singer. He was much devoted to the
love of poetry, especially that of Milton, Young,
Cowper, and Kirk White. He was exceedingly at-
tached to Kelly's hymns, and frequently repeated
from them, with great fervour and delight. When
a boy he courted the muse himself, hut not with much
success. Though not disciplined in the schools of
fashionable life, his manners were easy, and his ac-
tion graceful 5 and these, added to a lovely counte-
nance, and an elegant form, rendered him interest-
ing, both in his public engagements, and in his pri-
vate intercourse.
AS A CHRISTIAN,
He was fervent — holy — and humble. — Fervent;
his piety was the ardour of an unquenchable flame.
With him religion was no matter of mere profession
r.nd convenience ; nor did it lose its impression by
the frequent recurrence of its subjects and its duties
— he seemed to live under its abiding influence — it
was wrought into the constitution of his nature — its
principles were the springs — its precepts the rule —
its objects the end of all his actions. To this he
ever had respect — what opposed it he heartily ab-
horred — what clashed with it he cheerfully resigned
— what injured it he conscientiously avoided. His
love to God Mas ardent. In this I think he much
resembled Mr. Pearcc, of Birmingham; and, in-
deed, often, when contemplating the life of Spencer,
§78
my thoughts have involuntarily recurred to certain
traits of character preserved in the memoirs of that
glorified saint.* His love to God shed a glorious
lustre on his whole character and conduct; every
thing that came within the sphere of his influence
or operation was irradiated by it. But chiefly would
I confine myself now to the influence of this noble
principle upon himself. It inspired him with a love
of piety : as a Christian he was eminent for
Holiness. He contemplated the character of God,
and was attracted to it by its purity. " I shall not,"
says his friend, "easily forget tiie delight which
sparkled in his eye wheu conversing upon the di-
vine attribute- — holiness. 6 How sweet,' said he, « is
that word holy I — holy Father — holy Saviour — holy
Spirit — holy scriptures. Surely if there is one word
dearer to me than another, it is the word holy."
During his residence at Hoxton, the same friend ob-
served to a student in the institution, whose atten-
tion he wished to direct to the character of Spencer,
"Perhaps you perceive youthful levity in him?"
•' Xo," he replied, " I have remarked him partieur
'larly, but it was for his spirituality."
His ardent love of holiness enkindled and cherish-
ed in liis bosom a corresponding hatred to sin ; and
so strong was this principle of love to God, that
the dread of offending his purity sometimes amounted
almost to terror, and enveloped his mind in most
distressing gloom. A paper composed at one of
* Sec Memoirs of the Rev. Samuel Pearce, A. M. with
extracts from some of his most interesting Liters, by An-
drew Fuller.
S?9
these melancholy seasons of depression has lleeu
recently discovered ; it is entitled,
* ; Miserable ills under which I daily groan."
BODILY.
An incessant bilious complaint.
General langour, nervous feeling, and head-ache.
The fatigues of my great and repeated exertions in
preaching.
MENTAL.
The illness of
The awful weight of responsibility attaching to the
ministerial work.
The extreme distance between myself and my old,
choice, and invaluable friends.
The impossibility I discover of visiting all the peo-
ple I wish.
The little time I can appropriate to study.
The dreadful state of coldness and formality in re-
ligion, which I know the eternal God sees in me,
and which, I fear, he hates me for.
The dread I often feel, lest, after all, I should
dwell forever in Hell Fire !
Oh ! God, who is sufficient for these things ? Oh !
cast me not away from thy presence — take not thy
Holy Spirit from me. Oh ! God be merciful to
me a guilty and a wretched sinner, lie it so —
for Christ ? s sake. Amen.
Monday Evening, May 27, 1811.
But this was not the usual tone of his mind. Few
.there are so highly favoured but that, sometimes,
280
they are called to walk in darkness. The same
apostle who declares at one period, J know whom
I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to
keep what I have committed unto him until that day ;
at another eries, wretched man that I am, <£*e.
and again, Lest, after having preached unto others,
I myself should be a cast-away. This document is
a commentary on a passage in one of Spencer's let-
ters : — " Be assured that I as well as yourself have
walked in darkness, and complained that there was
no light. Fluctuations in experience are, I am sure,
my Jot, &c."* He was
Humble. For ahundant evidence of the truth of
this assertion, I need only appeal to his corres-
pondence, his conversation, and his conduct ; they
each demonstrate that he walked humbly ivith his
God. Indeed so prominent a feature in his char-
acter was humility, that his ministry derived from
this prolific source a considerable portion of its ex-
cellence. " For," as a friend observed, " his deep
humility and self-debasement leading him wholly to
distrust himself, his affections ascended continually
to the Saviour, and brought down that abundant
supply of spirituality which animated both his ser-
mons and his life."
A. minister one day unguardedly said to him, "Mr.
Spencer, I have been reading of your fame." " My
fame, Sir." " Yes ; I have been reading in one of
the public prints, that the Rev. Thomas Spencer has
been preaching several eloquent and impressive ser-
mons at Brighton; and if \ou will call at my house^
* 1'accc I5cl
MSI
1 infl shew you the newspaper/' Spencer declined
going; and his remarks afterwards were worthy of
himself.
" I am strongly pressed to visit Mr. ," said
he ; "I cannot ; his circumstances are so much
above mine, that it would be dangerous for me. If
I get a habit of visiting the rich, I shall neglect the
poor, and my expectation of usefulness lies among
them."
His humility led him early to solicit, and highly
to value, the fidelity of friendship. As he had a
deep and intimate acquaintance with his own heart,
he knew and deplored its corruptions : and turned
with contempt from those professed and dangerous
friendships, which only tend to feed the flame he was
anxious to stifle and subdue. No friend of his was
ever more faithful to him than Mr. B \ and few
persons were more highly esteemed by him. Speak-
ing of that gentleman, he said, M I owe him particu-
lar respect, and I wish to shew it."
There was one instance in which his late attend-
ance at a place of worship, where he was to preach,
was unhandsomely attributed to pride. " He takes
liberties," said thcy> " because he is popular." Let
not his memory suffer by such an imputation. It is
in my power to roll away from the character of our
departed friend this cloud. It was his attention to
the duties of the closet, and not his pride, which
caused his late attendance that day. It has been
already observed, that he always went from his clo-
set to the pulpit. On that day he allowed himself
the proper time for retirement, intending to take a
coach from the city, where he dined, to Walworth,
*24
28£
where lie was to preach. But a s udder, fall oi' snow
engaged every conveyance, and he was obliged to
walk: the distance was considerable, and the conse-
quence was, he was too late. When an error in the
conduct of a minister is committed, reasons are easily
assigned, and unhappily those the most uncharitable
come the readiest to hand 5 and few have sufficient
generosity or justice to inquire whether that which
they have chosen is correct or not.*
The following extract of a letter, dated July 3,
1810, shall elose this part of our review of Spencer's
character. It was addressed to one who feared that
his popularity might have an unhappy influence up-
on his mind:
"A thousand thanks for the solicitude you express
for my safetv in the midst of the snares and danarers
which appear to you to surround me ; never may I
he so left as to lose the dignity of the Christian,
much more of the Ministerial character, by bein
pleased with so empty a nothing as popular applause;
I cannot but recollect that this is a distinction not un-
frequently bestowed upon the most unworthy of men,
and it is so little calculated to afford any thing like
happiness or peace of mind, that 1 hope 1 shall always
* It may be said that this incident is too trifling- to be
recorded. I do not think so. Nothing- is unimportant which
illustrates character; and it is in these little things, for the
most part, that the character may be ascertained. Besides,
^he memory of the dead is sacred ; and I should not dis-
charge the duties which I have taken upon myself in the
compilation of this volume, to the satisfaction of my own
mind, were I to suffer any spot or cloud to remain upon the
lovely character of Spencer which I am able to remove,
5
283
be taught to esteem it a mere puff of noisy breath
that so being elevated above it, 1 may seek that re-
ward alone, which a sense of the smile of God
will ever bestow. Oh ! my friend, may those plea-
sures be mine which arise from the testimony of my
conscience, that I am seeking to please that Divine
Being, ' whose frown can disappoint the proudest
hopes, whose approbation prosper even m ine.*'
AS A MINISTER.
We shall contemplate Mr. Spencer as a preach-
er OF THE gospel, and pastor of a church.
Though for the most part these two offices are com-
bined, yet those who understand their nature, and the
duties they involve, must be conscious of the distinc-
tion which this division implies. Many a man is an
admirable preacher, who is but ill qualified for the
retired and constant duties of the pastoral office ;
and many a man is exemplary as a pastor, who has
little except his piety, which indeed is much, to re-
commend him as a preacher. As Spencer united in
his own person the two offices, so did he eminently
possess the qualifications of both.
As a Preacher his discourses were purely evan-
gelical : this was the east of all his sermons. He
never preached to display himself, — but always to
exalt the Saviour : this was his constant aim, and to
accomplish it, he dwelt much upon the beauties of
his character — .the charms 01 his person — the ful-
ness of his atonement — the perfection of his righte-
ousness. He perpetually dwelt upon his willingness
and ability to save ; and in order to demonstrate the
necessity and the value of his great salvation, ho
£84
seldom failed to resort to the fallen, polluted, guilty,
helpkss state of man. He consulted not the incli 1
nations, the passions or the prejudices of his hear-
ers, but preached simply, faithfully, and affection-
ately, the most humiliating, as well as the most
animating doctrines of the gospel. Whatever text
he struck, living waters seemed immediately to flow.
"Whatever was the subject, or the occasion — his holy
and ardent mind, ever panting for the salvation of
immortal souls, connected with it truths and consi-
derations, the most solemn and important. His ap-
plications were forcible and impressive. There he
wrestled with the people, with a fervour, resembling
that with which, in prayer, he wrestled with his
God. He seemed to exhaust every argument which
might be brought to bear upon his great object, and
to these he often added appeals and entreaties, the
most tender and affecting. Then he seemed to lose
sight of every consideration, but his own responsi-
bility, and his people's good — and as though the
congregation before him were the only people re-
maining to be saved, and as though every time of
preaching was the only opportunity aiforded him of
using the means for their salvation, he besought
them, as an ambassador for Christ, to be reconciled
to God.
The general cast of his preaching may be gath-
ered from his texts, which are freely scattered up
and down in the preceding pages. By his confession
of faith it will be seen, that his sentiments were most
dec id dlv what have obtained, in the Christian world,
the epithet, Calvlnistlc — exactly in conformity with
the Shorter Catechism of the Assembly of Divines.
285
To these doctrines he was most warmly attaehed 9
and as they were the subjects of his firm belief, so
were they the constant topics of his discourse, both
iii public and in private. Valuing these doctrines so
highly, and cherishing so deep a sense of their im-
portance, we cannot be surprised that he should feel
and express regret, when he saw them, in the ser-
mons of ministers, neglected and cast into the shade.
Perhaps, in his mode of expression, on such occasions,
he was sometimes incautious.* Admitting that it
was so, we cannot but admire the principle. Where
doctrines assume, in the view of the individual, an
importance, similar to that which we are accustom-
ed to attach to those grand principles which form-
ed thejbasis of Mr. Spencer's ministry, we cannot be
surprised if he expresses warmly his regret, when
he beholds them undervalued or abandoned.
* Christian*, and especially Christian ministers, should be
sparing" in the use of those broad and unqualified assertions
respecting their brethren in the ministry, which are so easily
made, yet so difficult to prove, and so injurious in their in-
fluence. It is easy to say, he does not preach the gospel, of a
minister — who loves it, and propagates it with as much ar-
dour as the censurer himself. He may not preach the gospel
with the same phrases — in precisely the same style of lan-
guage. Perhaps the censurer loves to dwell entirely on the
promises of the gospel — on the sovereignty and freedom of Di-
vine grace — on salvation as the unmerited gift of God by faith
and not by works : — all this, the man he censures believes
and preaches too ; but then with the promises of the gospel,
lie blends the threatnings, — and with the assurance that sal-
vation is of grace and by faith — the importance of obedience,
and a holy Ufe as the evidence of saving faith.
28(5
His discourses were judicious — he particularly
excelled in the adaptation of his subjects, and the se-
lection of his texts, to particular circumstances and
occasions. His sermons were never flippant, nor
bombastic — but always solid and simple — full of
sound divinity, conveyed in language, which, by its
copiousness, — its elegance, — its fluency, — astonished
every auditor. His skill in meeting the several cas-
es of his hearers, has been already noticed. Eve-
ry age and every rank received their portion from
his public instructions: the aged were astonished
at his deep experience ; the young were charmed
with his affectionate manner; and few, \ery few,
were the instances in which the hearers did not
depart, each affirming, that there was something
in the sermon that exactly suited them.*
* A passage in a sermon recently published by the Rev.
Robert Hall, admirably describes this quality of Mr. Spen-
cer's preach'ng. " Without descending to such a minute
specification of circumstances, as shall make our addresses
personal, they ought unquestionably to be characteristic ;
that the conscience of the audience may feel the hand of the
preacher searching it, and every individual know where to
class himself. The preacher who aims at doing good will
endeavour, above all things, to insulate his hearers, to place
each of them apart, and render it impossible for him to escape
by losing himself in the crowd. At the day of judgment, the
attention excited by the surrounding scene, the strange as-
pect of nature, the dissolution of the elements, and the last
trump, will have no other effect than to cause the reflections
of the sinner to return wifh a more overwhelming tide on his
own character, his sentence, his unchanging destiny ; and,
amid the innumerable millions who surround him, he will
mourn apart. It is thus the Christian minister should endear
287
As a preacher, Mr. Spencer was remarkable for
Animation ; indeed this was so strongly charac-
teristic of him, that almost every other feature
might hare been resolved into this. Mr. Styles,
than whom on man is better able to form and ex-
press an opinion of his worth, most correctly ob-
serves, " if 1 were to sum up Mr. Spencer's charac-
ter in one word, comprehending in it only what is
excellent and ennobling to human nature, I should
say it was animation. His intellect was feeling,
and his feeling was intellect. His thoughts breath-
ed, and his words glowed. He said nothing tamely,
he did nothing with half a heart." With him, the
animation of the pulpit was enkindled by the de-
votion of the closet. His communion with God was
deep and habitual, and this rendered him most feel-
ingly alive to the great truths which he delivered —
whilst the ardent desire which he cherished for the
salvation of sinners supplied, with constant fuel, the
flame of his zeal. In the pulpit, he appeared to
be abstracted from every consideration, but those
immediately connected with his subject, and his of-
fice. It was this holy fervour, perhaps, which con-
stituted the great charm of his ministry. The sim-
plest observations from his lips were invested, by
his manner of expressing them, with an importance
which demanded attention. The interest which he
felt himself in the momentous topics he discussed,
he communicated to his hearers ; and it was im-
vour to prepare the tribunal of conscience, and turn the eyes
of every one of his hearers on himself." — Discourse delivered la
the Rev. James Robertson at his ordination, by Robert Hall, d- JC
2SS
possible not in some degree to feel, when every one
saw how eagerly intent lie was upon promoting
their eternal welfare.
"I remember," says a friend, "that one even-
ing when we reached Hoxton, in good time for
him hut too late for me, as he was to preach,
the chapel was thronged, and I stood in the pas-
sage through which he passed to the pulpit. His
delicate frame was too weak to sustain the ani-
mation of his mighty spirit. His half-closed mouth,
fixed eye, flushed cheek, and panting breast, pain-
ed me to the heart as he passed me, and loudly
spoke my awful responsibility, possessed of such a
friend, and such a ministry. He afterwards told
me that he generally was agitated in his way to the
pulpit, but that when he reached it he seemed to
feel himself at home. I once asked a medical friend,
who heard him at Hoxton with me, * how he heard?'
6 Very uncomfortably.' ' Why ?' ' Because I saw
that his preaehing is at a physical expense to him-
self, beyond what you have any idea of. Every
part of the service, except his repetition of the
Lord's prayer, was at an expense which his frame
is incapable of supporting."
As a preacher, he was
Solemn. He never degraded the awful dignity
of his station, and his office, by buffoonery and jests,
— he was popular — but he never courted populari-
ty, by the practice of any thing that was time-serv-
ing, crafty or mean. As an eminent judge once
observed, "he did not despise popularity, but he
loved — not the popularity which he must follow — •
but the popularity that followed him." AVho,
!>ui must behold with mingled sorrow and contempt.
the low and disgusting arts, to which some men,
who style themselves preachers of the gospel, will
condescend, in order to gain the temporary admi-
ration of the vulgar. There are some indeed, whose
minds are unhappily so constituted, that they find
it impossible to forego their humour, even in the
pulpit. In such characters, while we deplore the
failing, we esteem the men, and revere their excel-
lencies. But where there is no talent to command
respect — no superior worth to induce the exercise of
forbearance and love, hut mere tricks are resorted to,
for the sake of obtaining a name, every eeling is
absorbed in that of mingled pity and disgust.
Mr. Spencer's preaching had a holy tendency. —
He loved the gospel, and gave to its leading truths
the prominency in his discourses, but on them, as on
a firm foundation, he buiit a superstructure of the
purest morality. Whilst he directed his hearers to
a higher source for acceptance with God, than obe-
dience to the commands of the law, he never failed
to enforce its precepts upon the practice of Chris-
tians, as the rule of their life. Upon the absolute
necessity of holiness, both of heart and conduct, he
constantly dwelt, and from every topic which he dis#
cussed, he deduced those practical lessons, Mhich it
naturally supplied.
But, although as a preacher he obtained almost
\iuexampled popularity, he was yet remarkably
Modest, and unassuming. No man would better
<ake a hint, or receive reproof with greater humility
and even thankfulness, but no man was more reluc-
tant to give either, though he might have presumed
25
much upon the importance which attended Lis Na-
tion, and have dealt out his censures with a libera?
hand.
* ; Do you think," observed a friend to him, " the
expression, 6 our realm,' which you use in prayer,
quite right?" "Is it not?" "It may be so — but
1 never knew any individual except George III. and
Thomas Spencer, use it, the one in his proclamations
— the other in his prayers." Constantly as he used
the phrase before — it never was known to escape him
afterwards.
" Mr. S." said a gentleman, belonging to a certain
congregation, to whom he was about to preach, M the
people come in very late, in general. I wish you
would reprove them for it this morning." " Oh, no,
Sir," he replied, " it would ill become a visiter and
a youth like me ; it ought to be a stated or an aged
minister."
lie shrunk from the public notice to which he was
exposed, and usdally walked the street in great haste,
and with downcast eyes, anxious to escape the gaze
of men.
In the pulpit, Mr. Spencer was an interesting
iiarure. His countenance had the fine bloom of youth.
Ilis voice was full toned and musical. His action
was graceful and appropriate. He sometimes lean-
ed over the pulpit, as if conversing with the people,
with the greatest earnestness, and anxious to be so
plain and explicit as that none should misunder-
stand. At others lie stood with manly dignity, dis-
playing with spontaneous ease, all the characteris-
tics of genuine eloquence.
291
That as a preacher he was faultless, no one will
he disposed to assert: but his faults were those of
youth, which time and experience would have cer-
tainly corrected. He was sometimes too rapid — -his
zeal, like an impetuous torrent, bore him along, and
would brook no check, — by which his voice was of-
ten strained, and the usual placidity and dignity of
his style somewhat interrupted. I conclude this
sketeh of his character as a preacher, by a note in-
serted at the close of Mr. Hall's discourse, above re-
ferred to : —
" The sensation excited br the sudden removal of
that extraordinary young man, [Mr. Spencer,] ac-
companied with such affecting circumstances, has
not subsided, nor abated, as we are informed, much
of its force. The event which has drawn so great a
degree of attention, has been well improved in sev-
eral excellent discourses on the occasion. The un-
equalled admiration he excited while living, and the
deep and universal concern expressed at his death,
demonstrate him to have been no ordinary character;
but one of those rare specimens of human nature,
which the great Author of it produces at distant in-
tervals, and exhibits for a moment, while He is has-
tening to make them up amongst his jewels. The
high hopes entertained of this admirable youth, and
the shock approaching to consternation, occasioned
hy his death, will probably remind the classical
reader of the inimitable lines of Virgil on Mar*
eellus :
O nate, ingentem lactam ne quoere tuorum.
Qstendent terris hunc tantum fata, neffue ultra
Esse sincnt
293
;i The writer of this deeply regrets his never hav-
ing had an opportunity of witnessing his extraordi-
nary powers; but from all he has heard from the best
judges, he can entertain no doubt, that his talents in
the pulpit were unrivalled, and that, had his life
been spared, he would, in all probability have car-
ried the art of preaehing, if it may be so styled, to a
greater perfection than it ever attained, at least, in
this kingdom. His eloquence appears to have been
of the purest stamp, effective, not ostentatious, con-
sisting less in the striking preponderance of any one
quality, requisite to form a publie speaker, than in
an exquisite combination of them all; whence result-
ed an extraordinary power of impression, which was
greatly aided by a natural and majestic elocution.
To these eminent endowments, he added, from the
unanimous testimony of those who knew r him best, a
humility and modesty, which, while they concerned a
great part of his excellencies from himself, rendered
them the more engaging and attractive. "When we
reflect on these circumstances, we need the less won-
der at the passionate concern excited by his death.
For it may truly be said of him, as of St. Stephen,
that devout men made great lamentation over him.
May the impression produced by the event never be
effaced; and, above all, may it have the effect of en-
gaging such as are embarked in the Christian minis-
try, to work ivhile it is called to-day,"
In directing my readers to a contemplation of Mr,
Spencer's character as
A Pastor, I am influenced more, by a desire to
render this general view of our departed friend of
293
pleteand to do ample justice to his memory, titan by
the prospect of any very considerable practical re-
sult. There are so many examples of pastoral dili-
gence, furnished by the recorded lives of men vener-
able for their age, and valuable for their experience,
that I cannot anticipate much from the pattern of a
youth, just entered on his labours. But such as he
vas I am bound to represent him.
In his visits to the sick he was constant and tender*
His enlargement in prayer, at the bed-side of the
diseased and dying, was truly astonishing. The
depth of his experience and ability in speaking to
the cases of the afflicted, appeared mysterious. But
it was soon explained by a holy providence. — For
whilst his friends saw him young and healthy, just
entering into the world, He who seeth not as man
seeth, beheld in him the Christian of fifteen years
standing, just taking wing for glory, This consi-
deration may tend to check invidious comparisons, —
for it is certainly unjust to compare one, in whom
God has cut short his work, in righteousness, with
those who, though older in years, are younger in
grace, and have perhaps a long and honourable
course before them.
His intercourse with his people was cheerful, spir-
itual and instructive.
He was no gossip. It wis wished, by some, that
he had been more frequent in his visits. But it is
difficult so to equalise the attention, in a large body
of people, as to satisfy the demands of all, and by
apparent neglect give offence to none. Where he did
visit, he always left a happy impression of his piety,
Lis wisdom, and his amiable disposition. He ab-
*25
horrcd the idle tales of the dav, — he was no friend
to scandal. He endeavoured always (o direct the
conversation into a useful and pleasing channel. He
was cheerful, without levity, and serious without af-
fectation. There was nothing formal or studied in
his manners. In him, every thing was natural, and
through all the departments of his character, there
was a harmony of feature — a unity of principle;
which every one observed and admired.
In all the duties of the pastoral office, he was we!'
informed, affectionate, and constant.
He knew what belonged to his office — and nevei
failed to practice what he knew. He made full
proof of his ministry. He was a scribe well in-
structed in the mysteries of the kingdom. A work-
man that needed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing
the word of truth — giving a portion to each, in due
season — sparing the irregularities or prejudices of
none — but seeking with ardent affection the good of
all — he commended himself to every man's con-
science in the sight of God. Early he girded on the
armour — and soon became a leader in the armies of
the Prince of Peace. He has fought a good fight,
lie has finished his course — and now he enjoys the
crown.
REFLECTIONS.
I am unwilling farther to detain the attention of
the reader to a volume, which, but for its interesting
subject, would have wearied his patience long ago,
and which has imperceptibly swollen to a bulk, far
greater than that which the writer, originally, in-
tended it to obtain, by any additional reflections, eq
£95
peeially as to preceding pages abound vvitli obser-
vations of a practical nature, as the narrative sug-
gested them — and as almost every topic of improve-
ment which might now be introduced has been fully
anticipated and forcibly expressed by the interesting
publications which appeared upon the death of
Spencer. Ami yet, were I to dismiss the volume,
Without any effort at a final improvement of the sub-
ject, I might be charged with neglecting the great
Tjbject of biography — utility ; and the book might
S>e considered as deficient in the most important
point.
In Spencer we see, —
First, Thai obscurity of birth or station presents
no insurmountable barrier to the progress of real cx~
cdlence.
The history of past and present times Furnishes
unnumbered illustrations of this remark. Manv who
have lived to enlighten and to bless the world — who
have obtained rank, and fortune, and renown, were
born in obscurity, and passed their earliest years in
?he oblivion of humble life. Let such as feel at
present the pressure of circumstances, yet pant for
•• enes of honourable exertion, and extensive useful-
ness, ponder the life of Spencer and be encouraged.
If God designs to use them for the public good, he
will, by an unexpected train of events, in his provi-
nce call them forth ; if not, let them neither rush
unbidden from their sphere, nor occupy their station
in sullen discontent ; if a wider field be not allowed
them, let them cultivate with cheerfulness the little
b;pot to which they are confined. The most retired
hamlet affords abundant opportunities of doing goodj
290
huil many a man to whom it is denied to enlighten
crowded eities and populous towns, may be a star of
the first magnitude in the village where he dwells.
Secondly, We see in Spencer the commanding in-
fluence of genuine and fervent piety. This was
the secret spring of all his energy — the fuel of
his animation— the source of his popularity. That
his mind was well furnished with solid truths — that
his manner was engaging — that his form was grace-
ful — that his countenance was lovely— that his lan-
guage was elegant — that his voice was fine — is ad-
mitted ; but it was his ardent piety which gave to
each of these a charm, and awoke in the breasts of
his auditors a feeling of reverence and solemnity,
which the simple exhibition of them could never have
produced. The graces of genuine eloquence, and
the stores of a cultivated mind, are precious ; but
without piety, they are as ' sounding brass and tink-
ling cymbals:' they may delight the ear, but never
will impress the heart ; and it is not, usually, the
labours of the most polished and enlightened of his
ministers, that Jehovah deigns especially to bless ;
but rather the unwearied exertions of those, whom
the love of Christ and of immortal souls has ren-
dered zealous in the sacred cause.
Thirdly, We see in the labours of Spencer, an ad-
mirable example of diligence, and in the success that
crowned them, a strong encouragement to exertion.
So short was the period of his stated ministry,
lhat we can only measure it by months : it had not
reached to years. But i'^w, perhaps, whose term of
labour was so short as his, were ever honoured with
u.ore success ; whilst many who have seen the niim-
mi
her of his mouths often repeated in years of anxions-
labour, have not been favoured with so much. If
all prove faithful unto death, whom he enlisted,
whilst on earth, beneath the banners of the cross, he
will head a goodly company, when the hosts of the
redeemed shall be assembled at the judgment day.
AVho that knew and loved him, but must anticipate
the joy with which he then shall say, « here am I,
Father, and the children whom thou hast given me.'
Let the example of his exertions and success stim-
ulate, quicken, and encourage ours. We work for
the same Master, and are engaged in the same cause.
And, to the student or the youthful preacher who
may honour these pages with his regard, I will
add. vour term may be as short — if it be not as sue-
cessfid, let it be as diligent. The diligence is ours,
— the success is God ? s : He will not demand at our
hands what is not ours to secure — He will give His
rewards of grace to the faithful servant, whether his
success be proportioned to his exertions or not ;
and we are ' a sweet savour unto Him in them that
are saved, and in them that iierishS
Fourthly? From the early and sudden removal of
Spencer, let churches learn to prize the labours of
holy and devoted men, while they enjoy them. Alas !
too many only learn the value of their privileges
by their removal. They neglected or lightly es-
teemed, whilst lining, the minister, upon whose me-
mory they heap eulogies and honours when depart-
ed : and I believe, that some have even bedewed
the ashes of their pastors with affected tears, who
accelerated and embittered their passage to tlrtJ
grave, by uukiudaeas and neglect! Not so the.
298
people whom the death of Spencer suddenly be-
reaved. The tears with which they embalmed liis
memory, were suitable to the respect they bore his
person — the love they cherished for his friendship —
and the sense they entertain of his transcendent
worth.* O that every minister living were as much
beloved ! — dying were as unaffectedly deplored !
Fifthly, In Spencer we see the excellence of real
religion — how it sweetens labour — sooths in af-
fiiction — supports in trial — and animates the soul
in scenes of disappointment, and hours of care. To
few are allotted severer labours — to few, so young,
are measured heavier trials than those which he
endured. But few, upon the whole, have possess-
ed a greater share of happiness : there were in-
tervals of sorrow, and clouds would sometimes ob-
scure the brightness of his sun 5 but for the most
* By some liberal expositors of God's providence, the death
of Spencer has been pronounced a judgment on the people,
for what they have termed, " their idolatrous attachment" to
him. Alas ! the idolizing of its ministers is, surely, not the
crying sin of the church at the present day ! But was there
any tiling in the conduct of the people over whom Spencer
presided, so contrary to the mind of God as to excite thus
strongly his displeasure, in loving a man who was beloved
wherever he was known — and revering an office which Christ
himself has invested with so much dignity? Let such bold
infringers of the prerogative of God, who presume to assign
reasons for his conduct, when he has not deigned to give any,
read, — " Kno~o them that labour amongst you, and over you in.
the Lord, and admonish you ,- and esteem them very highly in
love for their work's sake, and he at peace among y ourselves. ."
I>et them take the solemn admonition this passage gives :
and perhaps their own ministers will have no occasion U>
regret that they have done so.
299
part his hope was lively, and his prospects fair,
He enjoyed religion upon earth-— .he anticipated the
consummation of its bliss in heaven : and now he
has entered into the joy of his Lord. His life was
piety, and his end was peace.
Sixthly, In the sudden removal of Spencer, ice
mark the mysterious conduct of Jehovah's prbvi*
dence.
At first sight the event might stagger the strong-
est faith, for he was snatched away at a period
when his life seemed of the utmost moment to the
people over whom he presided, and the circle in
which he moved. Scarcely had his talents reached
their maturity ; his character was even then un-
folding ; from the promise of his youth, his friends
dwelt with rapture on the anticipations of his man-
hood, and every day added some strokes of reali-
ty to the picture they drew, — when suddenly, in the
bloom of his youth — at the commencement of his
course, — just entered on his labours — he is arrest-
ed by the arm of death, and conducted to the silent
grave. Was his death untimely ? No, — he had seen
a good old age in usefulness, though not in years :
" that life is long that answers life's great end."
His end was fully answered, and he was gathered
to the grave in peace. Was his death severe ? No
— to him it was tranquil, and serene ; he crossed
the river of Jordan, singing as he went, and in an
unexpected moment, found himself safely landed on
the shores of immortality. No raging billows awoke
his fears — no agonies disturbed his countenance —
death respected his loveliness, and preserved the
beauty of the form 2 when the spirit that animated
<*;*'.
00
V: was gone. But whilst for him his death was
peaceful, was their ought of mercy in it to his friends?
Yes — if they review and act upon the lessons it con*
veys, there is ; to survivers it declares, that excel-
lence and beauty must fade and die— let them
seek an interest in Him, in whom whosoever liveth
and belie veth shall not die eternally— to the church
it will endear the assurance of His care, who is in-
dependent of instruments and the conqueror of death.
To the young it is a solemn admonition of the un-
certainty of life — the instability of all terrestrial good.
To such as attended his ministry — what a power-
ful application is it of the many sermons they have
heard him preach, with such delight — but to so little
profit ! How must the event of the succeding morn-
ing rivet the impression of those solemn words which,
on the' last Sabbath evening of his life, he address-
ed to them: "I shall soon meet you at the bar
of God 5 I shall be there J . ? ' — that they were wise f
that they knew these things — that they would con-
sider their latter end.
END OF THE MEMOIRS.
APPENDIX.
No. L
The Dissenters of various denominatibns have nu-
merous Academies, partly endowed by munificent
individuals, and partly supported by voluntary sub-
scription, for the education of young men for the
work of the ministry. There are institutions of this
kind at Homerton, Hoxton, Hackney, Wymondlev,
Rotherham, Axminster, Idle, Wrexham, Bristol,
Stepney, Caermarthen, York, Glasgow, and other
places. In these schools of religion and literature
the course of study is for the most part liberal, and
some of them have supplied the churches of Christ,
for many generations, with sound and learned divines.
The compiler had the honour to receive his educa-
tion in the Old College, Homerton, a truly venerable
institution, over which the Rev. Dr. John Pye Smith,
and the Rev. Thomas Hill, preside. The following
is an outline of the principles, upon which that in-
stitution is founded, and the course of study which
is there pursued.
It is held as a fundamental principle among the
Orthodox Dissenters, that no young man should be
destined for the ministry as a mere profession ; or
educated with a view to that office, till he gives ra-
tional indications of that internal and sound piety,
which arises from the operations of the Holy Spirit
of God upon the heart. Their first care therefore
is. to select such characters only as candidates for
26
303
the office of the ministry; anil, in so doing, it hap-
pens not infrequently, that the individuals whom
ministers and private Christians select out of their
congregations, have been engaged more or less in
ihe avocations of secular life, and have enjoyed only
t\ common education. It appears upon the average
of many years, that about tiuo thirds of the ministers,
educated in the Old College, at Homerton, have been
of this description. The remaining third has con-
sisted of young men, whose whole previous life had
been devoted to literary pursuits, and whose superior
advantages of education, had been adorned by early
and promising piety. But in all cases, the prerequi-
sites for admission into this ancient institution are,
credible and ample, testimonies that the applicant is,
iu the severest judgment of Christian reason, a sin-
cere, devoted, and practical disciple of Christ, bom
of God, and sanctified by ihe Holy Spirit. In addi-
tion to this grand requisite, the Directors of the Acad-
emy require some evidence of respectable talents,
and such as are likely to improve the advantages to
be conferred. As a further security for the attaiii-
Baest of this object, students who are thus approved
at their first introduction, are admitted upon a pro-
bation of three months. The evidences of piety and
talents, displayed during this probationary period,
determine the full admission of a young candidate.
If the student, at his entrance into the Iioji .
should not be possessed of classical literature suffi-
cient to enable him with ease and accuracy to read
ordinary Latin and Greek authors, (e. g. Quiutilia;»
and Horace, Xenophon and Homer,) he enters on
grammatical and classical studies, and attends to
them solely till he is judged lit for the next clasi
of pursuits : this period is seldom less than two
years, and sometimes it is longer.
The Rev. Thomas Hill, Classical and Mathemati-
cal Tutor, conducts this department with distinguish-
ed ability, and with au intenseness of application,.
worthy of the most grateful mention : under hti d.i-
303
reeiion, the students read the most valuable Roman
and Greek classics, with a strict attention to accur-
acy of construction, parsing, prosody, and the eolti-
vatioil of a just and elegant taste for the beauties of
tliose A immortal authors. The course thus begun is
continued to the close of a student's residence in the
college, which, in most cases, is nearly six years.
During the two years of pursuits, solely classical
and philosophical, attention is also paid to English
composition; and themes, on subjects chiefly moral
and religious, are composed by those students whom
Mr. Hill judges fit; and one day at least, in each
fortnight, is spent by him in reviewing and animad-
verting on these essays.
After the students have entered upon the course,
called for the sake of distinction, Academical, they
still continue their attendance upon the Classical Tu-
tor ; and they add to their improving acquaintance
with the best authors of profane antiquity, the study
of the Hebrew language, and afterwards of the Syri-
ac. They also enjoy his Lectures in Geometry and
Algebra, in which Euclid and Bonnycastle's Algebra
are the text-books.
The Academical course, upon which students enter
as soon as their proficiency in classical learning ren-
ders it proper, is principally Theological; but Lec-
tures are also regularly read in other departments of
science and general knowledge. The duties of the
Divinity Tutor embrace,
I. The Theological Department, which compre-
hends six distinct courses, or plans of instruction.
1. The compilation of a systematical arrangement
of Christian Theology, by the judgment and industry
of each student himself. Dr. Smith, whose profound
classical, theological and biblical knowledge, ren-
ders him admirably qualified for the important of-
fice which he tills, puts into the hands of the students
a large manuscript work, entitled " First Lines of
304
Christian Theology." This commences with an in-
troductory address, consisting of observations and
counsels upon the moral state and dispositions of the
mind which are necessary for the profitable study of
divine truth 5 — .upon the utility and subserviency of
literature and general science for the advancement
of Theological knowledge, and usefulness in the mi-
nistry : — and upon Hie conduct of the understanding
in the actual study of divinity under its various as-
pects of liberal and impartial inquiry, interpretation
of the scriptures, and the determination of controver-
sies. This is followed by the syllabus, which forms
the body of the work, and consists of definitions, pro*
positions, hints of solution, corollaries, scholia, &c.
with references to authors of merit under every par-
ticular.
The design of this plan is not only to lead the
student into a clear and logical method of deducing
divine truth from its proper souree, but to engage
his industry of research and meditation, to take him
to the first fountains of knowledge, and to excite his
judgment, his powers of discrimination, and all his
talents, to the most profitable kind of exercise. When
the student has, with suitable attention and diligence,
completed the scheme, he possesses a body of Chris-
tian divinity and moral philosophy, thoroughly di-
gested, methodically arranged, the fruit of his own
labour and industry, and the systematical depository
of his future acquisitions.
2. A Polemical Lecture, designed to furnish a fair
and comprehensive view of the most important con-
troversies of. the present day; inculcating at the
same time, the value and importance of truth, and
ihe absurdity and danger of scepticism or indif-
ference.
3. An Exegetical Lecture on some book of the
Qreek Testament, generally an epistle.
4. A course on Biblical Criticism, and the princi-
ples of saeredl Philology and Interpretation.
805
5. Lectures on Preaching, and the other duties of
the pastoral office. Dr. Doddridge's Lectures on those
subjects are the text-book.
6. Lectures on Ecclesiastical History.
IT. A course of Lectures on the Elements of Nat-
ural Philosophy, Chemistry, and Natural History.
III. A course on Logic and the Philosophy of
the Mind.
IV. A course on the study of Civil History and
Antiquities : attainments prerequisite for that study,
observations on historical writers, rules and advices
for securing the greatest sum of advantage from the
pursuit, and an inquiry into the objects most interest-
ing to a Christian divine, to which the study of his-
tory should he rendered subservient*
The preceding statement may be considered as a
fair specimen of the usual course of study pursued
in the best regulated of our Dissenting Colleges.
The subject of the preceding memoirs received his
education in the truly respectable Academy at Hox-
ton : — over that institution the Rev. Robert Simp-
son, the Rev. Henry Forster Burder, A. M. and
the Rev. Hooper, A. M. preside with distin-
guished ability.*
In these respective Academies, public examinations
are annually held, in which a close and critical in-
quiry is made into the diligence — the acquirements,
and the conduct of each student.
* I should be happy to present a statement of the system
adopted in that excellent institution, but I am not furnished
with materials for the purpose. Such a statement was not
deemed necessary by those of whom I requested information.
I think it of importance to mention this, lest 1 should be con-
sidered as partial, in giving' so minute a detail of the course
at Homcrton, and saying- so little of the plans pursued ut
lloxton.
306
No. II.
Specimens of Mr. Spencer's early exercises
in preaching.
From the following outlines of some of his first
sermons may be gathered what was his general style
of preaching at the period of their composition.
ON PUBLIC WORSHIP.
Dated March 6, 1807.
Matthew xviii. 20. 6 For where two or three
tire gathered together in my name, there am I in the
midst of them.''
We shall make a few general observations on the
text in the following order :
1. That it is the duty and interest of
Christians to assemble together for the pur-
poses of religious worship.
This duty was
4. Practised by ancient believers. Zion was the
well known place to which the tribes went up — Christ
frequented the Synagogue. The apostles met to-
gether, &c.
2. It is enjoined in the saered scriptures. See
Ps. c. 4. Heb. x. 25.
3. Fraught with the richest blessings.
II. That it must be done in the name of
Christ.
i. In obedience to his command.
2. In the use of his appointed means.
3. In dependence on his assistance.
4. With a view to his glory.
III. That although but few persons thus
ASSEMBLE, YET THAT IS NO OBJECTION TO THEIR
OBTAINING THE DIVINE FAVOUR AND BLESSING.
' Wherever two or three,' 8[c.
We remark in the first place.
307
1. That God regards the sincerity of the worship-
pers, not their number,
2. The happy experience of worshippers in all
ages of the world. As a confirmation of the senti-
ment,
3. The positive assertion of the text
IV. That Jesus is present with all those
WHO THUS ASSEMBLE TOGETHER.
How is Christ present in his worshipping assem-
blies ?
For what purpose is Christ present with his wor-
shipping people ?
1. To observe the manner of their worship.
2. To Mess those who are earnestly seeking him.
REFLECTIONS.
1. The Lord Jesus Christ is God, or he could
not be present in all the assemblies of his people at
the same time.
2. How inexcusable is the conduct of those who
neglect public worship.
3. How great will be the happiness of the heav-
enly world, to all the sincere worshippers of Christ,
THE SECOND APPEARING OF CHRIST.
Hebrews ix. 23. 6 And unto them that look for
him shall he appear the second time without sin
unto salvation. 9
Let us contemplate,
I. The glorious appearance of the Son of
God.
The text informs us of
1. Its certainty. 'He shall appear,' &c.
2. Its order. i The second time,' &c.
3. Its manner. i Without sin,' Sfc
4. The end. i Unto salvation. 9
II. The persons who will be happily inter-
ested in it. To those who look for him,
308
1. With ardent love.
2. With earnest longing.
3. With patient limiting.
4. With due preparation.
From this subject permit me to make these re-
marks.
What a great distinction among mankind will there
be at the judgment.
Of what importance is it for us to know whether
we are thus looking for him.
In what high estimation should we hold that Sa-
viour who is the first and the last in a sinner's
salvation.
THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.
John iv. 28, 29. < The woman then left her water-
pot and went her ivay, into the city, and saith
to the men, Come see a man which told me all
things, whatever I did ; is not this the Christ?''
From the text and its connexion we shall draw
the three following plain observations :
I. That Jesus Christ is possessed of the
GREATEST EXCELLENCIES.
We shall confine ourselves to those illustrated
in his conversation with the woman of Samaria.
1. Profound humility. Though he was rich in
the glories of his divine nature, he humbled him-
self and became a man, and so as not to be above
holding conversation with a poor woman at a well.
Let proud mortals contemplate this and be ashamed.
2. Consummate wisdom. He proceeds upon the
plan established by the order of the everlasting
covenant, and will not fail of converting all his
chosen people. He knew where to find this woman
— he knew all her circumstances — and what kind
of conversation to hold with her.
3. Jlrdent benevolence. It was for the instruc-
tion and conversion of this poor woman, that he ex-
crted himself.
309
II. That those who are enabled to dis-
cover HIS EXCELLENCIES FEEL AN ATTACHMENT
TO HIM.
The affection of that soul which has by faith
contemplated and discovered the excellencies oi*
Christ, is,
1. Reasonable. (Rational)
2. Fervent.
3. Influential.
III. That those who really love him are
ANXIOUS TO RECOMMEND HIM TO OTHERS.
1. By earnest entreaty.
2. By bringing them under the sound of the gospel,
3. By prayer to Qod for them.
4. Bu a holy life,
IMPROVEMENT.
1. We here see that there is no worthiness in the
instrument employed in a sinner's conversion.
The Samaritan woman was made useful in direc-
ting her fellow citizens to Christ.
2. This subject affords us a test whereby we may
try our own characters.
Are we really attached to Christ?
3. Jfo-e there any here desirous to see Jesus ?
No. II F.
CHRIST AT EMMAUS.
JiUKE xxiv. 32. i And they said one to another, did
not our hearts burn within us, while he talked
with us by the way and while he opened to us.
the scriptures ?'
The connexion of this text shews us, that af-
ter the death and resurrection of the great Messheh,
two of the disconsolate disciples, who knew not that
he was raised from the dead, went to a village
called Emuiaus ; that on their wav thither thev
310
conversed, as was likely they would do, upon the
wonderful events (hat had lately transpired in Jer-
usalem, and spake of him they loved. His person
— his actions — his sermons — his prophecies — and,
above all, his most extraordinary exit occupied their
solemn attention, and afforded a subject for the most
interesting discourse. Whilst they were thus en-
gaged in conversing about him, with whom they
had before been familiar, and from whom they had
learned most excellent lessons, a third came up and
joined them; this indeed was Jesus of Nazareth,
who had been raised from the dead by the glory
of the Father. But he chose, for wise ends, to
conseal himself from them, and to cause that their
eyes should be holden, that they should not know
Jtirn, appearing to them as a stranger desirous of
knowing the subject of their conversation, and the
cause of their grief, and to sympathize with them
under their sorrow — weeping with them that wept.
They intimated to him their wonder that he, even
supposing that he were but a stranger in Jerusa-
lem, should be unacquainted with the things which
were come to pass there in those days ; then pro-
ceeding to tell him how Jesus, a prophet, migh-
ty in deed and word before God and the people,
was condemned to death and crucified ; giving him
to understand at the same'time, that the hopes they
had entertained of him were most sanguine, for they
trusted that it had been he which should have re-
deemed Israel ; and, finally, they informed him of
some peculiar phenojnena that had been witnessed
by certain women of their acquaintance at his se-
pulchre, where his body could not be seen, though
they saw a vision of angels, who said that he was
alive. The courteous and mild fellow traveller
then began to speak and detain them with delight-
ful converse 5 for he shewed them ' that Christ ought
to suffer these things, and then to enter into h»
glory.' He spread before them the mysteries of
the inspired page, and shewed how they were ii-
311
'titrated in liie life and death of their best friend.
Sooner than they thought they arrived at their jour«
net's end, where he made as though he would have
gone further 5 but they prevailed on him, by their
great importunity, to go in and tarry with them—
with them he took bread, blessed it, brake it, and
gave unto them — then first their eyes were opened
to behold him as the same Jesus who was crucified,
and to discover in him the lovelv features of their
Lord who had done all things well — -when, lo ! he
vanished out of their sight, and was seen no more.
— After which, we may reasonably suppose to have
taken place — a solemn silence; and then they used
to each other the admirable expression we have
selected as a text — u Did not our hearts burn with-
in us, while he talked with us by the way, and
while he opened to us the scriptures ?" Hav-
ing, then, taken a slight glance at the whole ac-
count of this wonderful circumstance, in confining
our attention more particularly to the words of the
text, we shall view them as leading us to reflect on
— the conversation of our Lord with his disciples
— and the effects it produced upon their minds—
<; their hearts burned within them, while he talk-
ed with them bv the way.*' Behold
(I.) The conversation of our Lord with his disci-
ples.
And here the passage presents us with the kind
familiarity which he displayed, and the lustre that
he cast on the divine word — the first remarkable
thing in our Lord's conversation with the travellers
to Kmmaus, is —
(l) The kind familiarity which he displayed —
their own expression is, " He talketh with us by the
way." It is condescension in the Sfen of God, to no-
tice the concerns and accept the worship of his holy
angels ; how much more must it be so to sojourn
with mankind — to go where they go — and freely to
tell them the secrets of his heart. The Saviour was
mow. vou remember, even on earth, a most diettified
313
character — lie was now no longer to suffer and be
cruelly entreated — he had now finished the work his
Father had given him to do — and had shortly after
to ascend to claim his high seat in glory. He now
shewed himself to be the Christ, the Son of God,
and confirmed the reality of his appointment and
feiission, by his bursting the bars of the tomb. He
would not now be viewed by any as a common char-
acter, but as the most wonderful being that had ever
appeared in the world — as such even his enemies
must consider him. Yet all this did not make him
forget his friends, or cause him to lose any thing of
that social and condescending disposition he had
ever before manifested ; but almost as soon as he was
risen, he goes to meet some of the members of his
little family, and confirm them further in himself.
" He talked with them bv the wav." — Oh ! what a
heaven does Christ here by his example stamp upon
Christian intercourse and sacred friendship. — Behold
he talks with his disciples, proving to them that " as
ointment and perfume rejoice the heart, so doth the
sweetness of a man's friend, by hearty counsel." And
to this day we are permitted to converse with our
God — " he talks with us by the way" — tells us our
true character, and reveals his own excellence — he
appears as our wonderful counsellor ! and to what-
ever place we journey, we should be concerned to
have him talking with us by the way. — The next
remarkable circumstance in this conversation of our
Lord, mentioned in the text, is
(2) The lustre that he cast upon the divine word.
-— " He talked with us by the way, and opened to us
the scriptures." And well he might, for he told us
before that " the Lord had given him the tongue of
the learned ; that he should know how to speak a
word in season, to him that is weary." " He be-
gan," says the evangelist, u at Moses and all the
prophets, and expounded to them in all the scrip?
lures, the tilings concerning himself" — blessed in-
terpreter — divine teacher. We have no reason to
sia
-appose thai he forgot the first promise that was
made of him, even in the garden of Eden, that lie
should bruise the head of the serpent : no doubt but
the intended sacrifice of Isaac, the patriarch's sou
- — the erection of the brazen serpent on the pole —
and the various sacrifices under the law, were all
delightfully commented on by Jesus the Saviour.
He did justice to all the passages — he shewed their
full import — -he gave them an insight into the mean-
ing of all the prophecies respecting his death and
glory — he took up every part of scripture in its
bearing upon himself, he shewed [that he] was <; all
in all" — even in the Old Testament ; and thus by his
teachings they discovered far more of the beauty,
harmony, and fulfilment of the word of God, than
they ever did before, or ever would have done with-
out his instruction. And does he not now give his
people to understand the doctrines of his word — does
he not now daily open to us the scriptures — has he
not given to us his Holy Spirit in order to make us
more wise in the mysteries of his kingdom, — and
are we not directed to seek for him in the field of
divine truth as for hid treasure. Oh ! how much is
there respecting Christ iu this holy book, and who
is so able to make us know it as himself — " he opens
our understanding that we may understand the scrip-
tures — he ever teaches his ministers to open and al-
lege that Christ must needs have suffered and risen
again from the dead, and that this Jesus whom we
preach unto you is Christ," — as he taught his apos-
tles to testify the kingdom of God, persuading men
concerning Jesus, hoth out of the law of Moses, and
out of the prophets, trom morning till evening."
Having then admired the conversation of our Lord
with his disciples on the way to Emmaus, we notice
II — The effects it produced in their minds.
It was not at all probable that his discourse should
he without effect, or fail deeply to interest their
minds, since it was the very theme on which they
chose to dwell -, and it was conducted in so wise and
27
a
14
endearing a manner — it was such that according <o
tSieir own confession, it made their hearts to burn
within them, while he talked with them by the way
— and surely I need not say this was not the glow of
shame, lest they should be found in his company —
ISo, brethren, they would not have cared who of all
the great men of the laud had met them in company
with this most intelligent stranger — .they felt them-
selves highly honoured by his company, even before
they knew his name. Nor was this the heat of
anger, or of any bad passion excited by any thing
that he delivered — his communications were sweet,
and soothing. Had they been so disposed, they could
find nothing in them that was improper, untrue, or
provoking ; — he talked with them as a man talks
with his friend — the communion was sweet, and the
intercourse highly gratifying; hence, though their
hearts burned within them, it was neither with
shame, nor anger. But this, brethren, permit me to
say, was the glow of fixed surprise — of grateful
feeling — of humble love, and — of holy animation of
soul. Observe, it was the glow
(l) of fixed surprise.
They wondered much that he who appeared a
stranger, not only to them, but also to the place
where they were, should know so much about them
— Jerusalem and Jesus ; they were astonished at his
wisdom — at his eloquence. — 1 almost fancy that they
exclaimed " Never man spake like this man." —
With emotions of amazement, they perceived that
hts u word was quick and powerful, and sharper
than any two edged sword, piercing even to the di-
viding asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints
and marrow ; and that it is a discoverer of the
thoughts and intents of the heart." With what
prying eyes must they have looked upon him ; and
\et not so as to behold him who he was, because
himself had prevented it; yet their hearts burned
within them — sentiments of unutterable admiration
were hid in their breasts whilst he opened to them
the scriptures. Again — it was the glow
3t5
(2) of grateful feeling.
They must have discovered that they were great-
ly indebted to this benevolent stranger, who had so
effectually enlightened their judgments, and allevi-
ated their sorrows. Their hearts burned within
them with the sensation of thankfulness — they saw
that he was a praise-worthy character, and, me-
thinks, were devising some acknowledgments for his
attention to them, little thinking that it was the
Lord. Did your hearts ever glow in this way with
a sense of your utter incapability of making any suit-
able returns to him that loved you, and revealed to
you his will? For your fellowship with him, have
you ever said — what shall I render to the Lord ?
l)id you ever feel the high honour of being witli
Jesus— admitted into his presence, and being made
partakers of his grace ? AH your hearts, Christians,
should glow with gratitude, and burn with love.
Hence, we remark again, their hearts burned within
them with the sensation
(3) of humble love.
Finding as they did, that his words a were found
of them, and they did eat them,*' and they were to
them the joy and the rejoicing of their hearts, they
manifested a strong attachment to him whom they
supposed to be a new friend. He engaged their
affections,, hence they desired more of his company,
and said, when their fears were excited lest he
should depart from them — " Abide with us, for it
is toward evening." — Ho do the hearts of the peo-
ple of God burn within them to the present day,
with like sensations, under similar enjoyments — the
flame of divine love is kindled in their souls — the
words of his mouth appear to them sweeter than the
honey or the honeycomb ; — his doctrine drops like
the rain, and distils like the dew, and sensible that
none teacheth like him, they admire and love him
before all others. Oh ! how excellent a thing it is
thus to love the Saviour. — Let it be our happiness
to sit at his feet ; and with meekness receive the
3 if)
ingrafted word of truth, which is able to save the
soul, so shall its admirable Author rise daily more
and more in our esteem. Finally, it Mas the glow
(4) of holy animation of soul.
Divine light broke in upon their minds, and dis-
persed their remaining unbelief — they were elevated
above the world to the contemplation of their ador-
able Redeemer. He touched their finest feelings —
he filled their souls with the sublime joys cf his sal-
vation — he inspired them with pure devotion, and
fixedness of heart — and while he led them to the con-
sideration of Him who endured such contradiction of
sinners against himself, he prevented them from be-
ing weary and fainting in their minds. And oh !
Christians, what sweet moments — rich in blessing —
have you enjoyed, when in converse with Immanuel.
"Whether in the body, or out of the body," you have
hardly been able to tell : — drops of heaven have
been bestowed upon you here below — the light of the
Divine countenance has caused you to take your
harp from the willows, and make every string speak
to the praise of love divine. Did not your hearts
burn within you ? Were you not like Peter on the
mount, who, in an extacy of joy said, "Lord it is
good to be here ?" You anticipated the joys of the
blessed, you drank of the brook by the way, and
seemed ready to depart and to be with Christ, to
drink wine new with him, in the kingdom of his
Father. This holy delight in God is real, and not
enthusiastic — it is bestowed only on the new born
heirs of grace, and it is given them as a pledge of
joys to corne — their hearts burn within them while
he talks with them by the way.
In reflecting on this subject we are struck with
the idea that
We often have to blame ourselves for not suf-
ficiently estimating our mercies during the time of
their continuance.
These disciples, notwithstanding the pleasure they
had fouud in his society, did not. till just as he left
sir
them, discover him to be their Lord — to the present
day Joseph often knows his brethren, whilst they
know him not. And then afterwards they say — did
not onr hearts burn within us ? True, they did. But
why did not we value the blessing while we enjoyed
it r Whv did we not Bay, as the words of wisdom
dropped from his mouth, it is the Lord ?
Again, a review of past favours greatly supports
the mind under present bereavements.
When we seem forsaken — when our affections to-
wards Christ appear but cold, oh! what a privilege
it is to be enabled to revert to a period when our
hearts did burn within us, while he talked with us
by the way. This thought cheers the drooping
spirits, and raises the fainting head ; it excites our
hope too, that he will be with us again, and hold con-
verse with us, even till the hour of death — yea, it
makes us argue, that if the Lord had intended to de-
stroy us, he would not have made our hearts burn
within us by his divine communications.
It is the duty and interest of us all earnestly to
pray for the society and conversation of Christ.
The blessing itself is so desirable, for it is to have
the honour of dwelling and walking with Christ —
and the sensations which he, by his discourse, excites
in the mind, are so pleasing, and delightful, that we
ought earnestly to beseech him to tarry with us — if
he is an instructer and companion, how short will the
distance to heaven appear, and how light and mo-
mentary the trials of the way — Lastly,
If those who travel with the Saviour, are thus
blessed, how miserable are they who are altogether
alienated from him.
Sinners, you never yet enjoyed the society of
Christ, nor do you wish it. You are loading* him
with reproaches, and will have none of his counsel,
and he will never say of you "they shall walk with
me in white, for they are 'worthy ;" the fever of lust,
and the torment of envy shall he your curse, while you
live in the pains of hell, your portion after death,
*27
318
when you will burn in u the fire that never can he
quenched, and the smoke of your torments shall as-
cend up forever and ever." Oh ! may we, instead of
this awful doom, he honoured and glorified with his
constant presence in a better world — so shall the
chosen of Nazareth be praised and adored by us
forever and ever.
No. IV.
FAREWELL SERMON AT HOXTON.
Acts xx. 24. < But none of these things move me,
neither count I my life dear unto myself so that
I might finish my course ivith joy, and the mini'
stry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to
testify the gospel of the grace of God?
This is not the language of stoical apathy ; the
man who uttered tltese words, my hearers, was a
man possessed of the keenest sensibility — a man of
real, honest, and exquisite feeling; — in his heart,
cold indifference, and unfeeling stubbornness, had no
place ;— nor do the words express philosophical he-
roism ; a foolish bravado ; for our apostle derives
his support from sources far different from these : he
was animated by principles ; he was delighted with
prospects which the natural man never possesses ;
the power of which principles, and the view of which
prospects, produce an effect which is mighty beyond
all conception. The passage I have read you, intro-
duces to our view Paul the preacher at the time of
his departure from his friends, when his mind was
Jed to expect, and prepared to meet, bonds and af-
flictions io every place; and the words of the text do
most strikingly shew us the way in which the priu-
(iples of the gospel discover themselves, and prove
their power to strengthen and support. Viewing
this passage as not unsuitable to the present oppor-
tunity, I shall exhibit it to your view, as shewing us
319
that the principles «f the gospel of Christ display
their power ami virtue
I. In rendering us insensible to the power of af-
fliction — "none of these things move me."
II. In raising us superior to the love of life — -
" neither count I my life clear unto me. so that I mar
finish my course with joy, ami the ministry which
I have received of the Lord Jesus." Let us behold
here the glorious gospel of the blessed God. How
the religion of Christ displays its potent influence —
its mighty efficacy
I. In rendering us insensible to the power of af-
fliction. Its supports enabled the holy zealous apos-
tle to say of painful separation — of the labours of the
ministry, — and of the large measure of persecution
which in that age of the church every where attend-
ed the preachers of the gospel, " none of these things
move me." Paul had, however, without doubt, the
feelings of humanity: and, as I have already intima-
ted, these things would aftect his soul as a man, and
occasionally overwhelm his spirits ; but when he
felt the happy influence of the gospel in all its power,
he triumphed over these difficulties ; he heroically
conquered himself: subdued his own feelings, and ap-
peared a ready, a joyful martyr for Christ. Thus did
Paul, yet did not he, but the grace of God which was
in him. These trials, then, these difficulties, which
to many would be insurmountable, did not " move"
him ; that is, the anticipation of them, the endurance
of them, did not so move him as to damp his ardour —
as to discourage his soul, or as to make him wish to
exchange with the world. Observe, they did not so
move him
As to damp his ardour. These trials and appa-
rent obstacles to the success of his work, and to his
own happiness in it, did not make him less anxiously
desirous of doing good in the world, did not at all di-
minish the fervent wishes of his soul to be the means
cf conducting many sons unto glory. Notwithstand-
ing these difficulties, he was still " steadfast, uumov-
320
able, always abounding in (he work of the Lord, for-
asmuch as he knew that his labour was not in vain
in the Lord," And as he had this ministry, as he hud
received mercy, so he fainted not ; hence he could
say to others — no man should be moved by these af-
flictions, for yourselves know that we were appointed
thereunto. He remembered the long cloud of wit-
nesses, who through much tribulation had entered
the kingdom, and he determined to imitate their
example ; he did more, he considered Jesus, who
endured such contradiction of sinners against him-
self; and this prevented him from being weary, or
from fainting in his mind : he looked unto Jesus
the author and finisher of his faith, and by that
means obtained encouragement to proceed, and grace
sufficient for him. Oh ! never let the servants of
the most high God relax in their endeavours to
do good, or grow cold in their desires after the im-
mortal welfare of mankind because some difficul-
ties await them : of these difficulties they ought to
say " none of these things move me." Nor did
these trials so affect the apostle
As to discourage his soul ; that is, to make him
shrink at the thought of enduring them — to make
him afraid to meet them — no — for, supported by
the consolations of the gospel, he could welcome re-
proaches, pain and death ; yea, rejoice and be exceed-
ing glad that he was counted worthy to suffer for the
sake of the Lord Jesus. 4 What mean ye,' says
he elsewhere, ' what mean ye to weep and to break
mine heart, for I am ready not to be bound only,
but also to die Jit Jerusalem for the name of the
Lord Jesus.' Divine grace so supported him, that
1 hough he was troubled on every side, he was not
distressed ; though perplexed, he was not in des-
pair ; though persecuted, he was not forsaken ;
though cast down, he Mas not destroyed. I suffer,
says he, these tilings, nevertheless I am not sham-
ed, i for 1 know whom I have believed, and am
persuaded that he is able to keep that which I
have committed unto him, until that day.' Thus
321
he could endure, and the Saviour enabled him to
suffer as well as to preach for him, and none of
these tilings moved him.
Finally, they did not so move him as to make
hi-m wish to exchange with the world.
Because he thus reckoned, that the sufferings of
this present life are not worthy to be compared
with the glory that should be revealed in us. He
saw that "our light affliction, which is but for a
moment, worketh out for us a far more exceeding
and eternal weight of glory.' He looked not at
the tilings which are seen, which are temporal, but
at the things which are not seen, which are eter-
nal. There was a pleasure even connected with
the sufferings which far excelled the joy of world-
lings ; hence he says 'I am filled with comfort;
1 am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation.' For
the Lord stood by him and strengthened him ; yea,
the Lord delivered him from every evil work, and
preserved him to his heavenly kingdom. The a-
postle. taught by the Spirit of God, loved even the
difficulties of his Master's service far better than
the ease and the pleasures of the world. Oh!
that like him, we may wisely count the reproach
of Christ greater riches than all the treasures of
this world — prefer even the worst, the most pain-
ful circumstances in the eause of the Saviour, to
the most fascinating pleasures of the world — to
the enjovments which the men who know not
Ood, reckon most valuable and most dear; thus
shn.11 we shew that we are willing to be any thing
(hat the Saviour chooses, so that he may be gloiiti-
ed : thus shall we shew that we speak the feelings
of our hearts, when we sav of the difficulties of our
work i none of these things move me.' Thus was
the apostle enabled to enjoy strong consolations in
the midst of trials. Thus did Imauuwel's grace
quicken him to diligence and fortify his mind a-
gainsl the numerous ills that flesh is heir to. Oh '
that the Spirit of glory and of G^d would r<;st au
Q«»i
us also ; that all our duties may be so discharg-
ed, aud all our trials so endured, as that the pow-
er of the gospel may be evinced, and the support-
ing grace of the great Head of the Church abun-
dantly magnified. And what can so teach us • to
endure trials as the religion of Christ ? What sup-
ports have infidels, mere moralists, and speculative
philosophers, like those which may be derived from
the fulness of our Lord Jesus Christ? Theirs are
refuges of lies, ours a never failing foundation.
4 Their rock is not as our rock, even our enemies
themselves being judges.' The gospel of Christ pre-
sents the only sovereign balm for human wo ; it
supplies us with real, and with sure support ; it em-
boldens us to say, in the face pf difficulties, dangers,
and death, i None of these things move me.' The
gospel, however, does not merely display its pow-
er in rendering us insensible to the power of afflic-
tion, but
(II) In raising us superior to the love of life.
For, adds the apostle, ' neither count I my life
dear unto myself so that I may finish my course
with joy.' ' Skin for skin, yea all that a man hath,
will he give for his life.' The preservation of life
is the first law of nature. That man is unworthy
the character of a rational being, who intention-
ally shortens, or daringly terminates his own life.
And vet here a man comes forward and savs, * nei-
ml •' '
ther count I my life dear unto myself — and he is
taught to form this estimation of life too, by the
gospel of Jesus ! How is this? The apostle did
not choose strangling rather than life; but the case
may be stated thus. The gospel taught him the
right use of life, and made him earnestly to desire
to fulfil it: the gospel taught him as a minister, that
life was only valuable to him so far as he accom-
plished its purposes — the joyful completion of his
Christian race, the honourable close of his ministerial
exertions. Further than this, life was not dear
10 him. or highly prized by him, for he was wil-
lim* to be < absent from the body, and to be pres-
ent with the Lord.' His earnest expectation and
his hope was, that in nothing he should be asham-
ed, but that < with all boldness, as always, so now
Christ should be magnified in his body, whether it
were by life or by death.' ' Yea,' says he, 4 and if
I be offered upon the sacrifice and service of your
faith, I joy and rejoice with you all.' Oh ! what
a noble principle is this that renders a man willing
to sutler and to die for Christ, 'for herein perceive
we the love of God, because he laid down his
life for us ; and we ought also to lay down our
lives for the brethren.' And now it is said of the
apostle, and all who like him triumphed over Sa-
tan, ; they were faithful unto death.' They over-
come him by the blood of the Lamb, for they lov-
ed not their lives unto death. But I digress from
the subject. Observe, then, that the gospel raised
the mind of Paul superior to the love of life, as it
shewed him that it was only useful for two purposes :
(I) That he might joyfully complete his Christian
race. So he says, ; that 1 may finish my course w ith
joy.' The course to which he alludes is the Chris-
tian race, which he had some time before undertak-
en in divine strength. God had called him so to run,
that he might obtain, and hence he 4 laid aside every
weight, and the sin which so easily beset him, and
ran with patience the race set before him, looking
unto Jesus.' He set out with a full determination
never to grow weary, or to decline his eager pursuit
after glory, honour and immortality. Hitherto he
had pursued it with alacrity; he did not count him-
self to have apprehended ; but this one thing he
did, forgetting those things which were behind, and
reaching forth unto those things which were before,
he pressed toward the mark for the prize of the high
calling of God in Christ Jesus. Personal religion had
flourished in his soul, and he had not left the path mark-
ed out for him, by the great Forerunner, to be led a-
side either to the right hand or to the li'St, and nowr
mil
lie wished to finish it with joy, and that man ii Ir-
ishes his course with joy when he expresses grati-
tude for any ardour he has discovered in it, and when
he has a full view of the crown of glory, and pros-
pect of eternal rest. To fiuish our course with
joy, we must express our gratitude for the assist-
ance grace has offered U3 in it. [When a Chris-
tian can say, through the good hand of my God
upon me, the care of his love, and the animation
of his grace, ' I have finished my course.'] Oh !
what pleasure it must afford a believer who com-
pletes his race on earth, to look back upon the
path he has trod, and to remember even the tri-
als he endured, and to bless God that he was ena-
bled to persevere to the end. The Christian race
cannot be joyfully completed without a bright pros-
pect of eternal glory and a splendid crown. The
man finished this race with joy who could say,
i henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righ-
teousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge,
will give me in that day.' Let others run to ob-
tain a corruptible crown, we do it for an incor-
ruptible. And oh! that when we finish our course
it may be with this firm persuasion, that we shall
enter into the joy of our Lord, where toil and fa-
ti^ue will be known no more. For this purpose
life is of use, as it conducts us to the eud of the
Christian race. But the apostle views himself not
only as a Christian but as a minister of the New
Testament, and therefore he views life as desirable
(2) That he might honourably close his ministe-
rial exertions. That I may finish, says he, my
course with ioy, and the ministrv which I have re-
ceived of the Lord Jesus. Here you behold the
author of the gifts and the graces of ministers s the
Lord Jesus.' The Lord had said of Paul, ; he is
a chosen vessel unto me to bear my name unto the
Gentiles.' And he had received his ministry of the
Lord Jesus. The subjects of his ministry came
from him, for he taught him to preach human
325
depravity — the atonement of Christ, and the influ-
ence of the Spirit, and to be witness unto all, for
Jesus, of what he had seen and heard. His call
to the ministry was from the Lord Jesus. He told
him to publish the gospel, and immediately he con-
ferred not with flesh and blood. He was an apos-
tle not of man, nor by man, but by Jesus Christ
and God the Father. His qualifications for the
ministry came from the Lord Jesus — he gave him
a freedom of speech — he made him apt to teach—
lie furnished him with wisdom and knowledge-
he made him a minister that needed not be asham-
ed, rightly dividing the word of truth. His suc-
cess in the ministry was from the Lord Jesus —
he made him fruitful, and he made him useful —
lie opened the hearts of his hearers — he attended
his message with the power of his Spirit — he gave
testimony to the word of his grace. Thus lie as-
sisted him in his work — owned him as an honour-
ed servant, nor suffered him to labour in vain, or.
spend his strength for nought. Now, he wishes to
close this ministry with joy. He does not waut
to leave it — to quit it for worldly ease ; but to go
on in it to the end of his life. He does not wish
to grow weary in well doing ; but to persevere to
the last; and thus finishing his work, he would do
it with joy, as he would review instances of use-
fulness, and behold the grace of the Lord of the
harvest, in raising up more labourers to enter in-
to his vineyard. A minister closes his work with
joy, when he reviews instances of usefulness, when
he knows that there are many whom he may view
as his joy and crown of rejoicing — that he shall
have to say of a goodly number, here am I, Father,
and the children which thou hast given me. Thus
our Lord rejoiced at the close of his labours, say-
ing, ' I have given them thy word — I have finish-
ed the work which thou gavest me to do.' So
also does the good minister finish his course with
joy, when he beholds other labourers crowned with
28
3£5
success in the vineyard — when lie dies with the full
confidence that ZioVs glory increases, and that the
work of the Lord is promoted. He rejoices that
others shall enter into his labours, and that by
their exertions, the Saviour will be honoured when
he is cold in dust. Thus he rejoices, that instead
of the fathers, he raises op the' children, and that
the Saviour's name shall be known to all gene-
rations. Happy man : like Simeon, tbou shalt de-
part in peace — like him, thou shalt have the Sa-
viour enclosed in thine arms, and eternal glory full
iii thy view.
Let those of us who are aged in the ministry imi-
tate the apostle's example.
Students be diligent — honour Christ, and the Holy
Spirit — aim sincerely to do good — be not afraid of
difficulties — let us go on, &c. &c.
In so doing, we shall both save ourselves and those
that hear us. Amen.
No. V.
ADDRESS AT LAYING THE FOUNDATION-STONE OF
THE NEW CHAPEL.
4 And this stone, which 1 have set fur a pillar, shall
be. God's housed So said the patriarch Jacob on a
memorable occasion, and so may we say, assembled
as we are to lay (he foundation-stone of an edifice to
fjod. We have found out a place for the Lord — an
habitation for the mighty God of Jacob : beholding
this spot of ground on this interesting morning, a
thousand delightful sensations pervade our souls, and
we are ready to anticipate the presence of the Great
Eternal in this place, for 'is not this the hill which
Bod hath chosen to dwell in it forever ?' Let us
please ourselves with believing, thai here holy in-
cense shall ascend to God — that from this place the
voice of prayer and praise shall rise tuneful to the
327
court of heaven — that here pious men shall enjoy
the sublime happiness of devotion — that here the un-
godly and the sinner shall be induced to begin their
lives anew. How often may many have to say, on the
very ground we tread, * How dreadful is this place!
this is none other than the house of God. and the
gate of heaven.' The master of worshipping as-
semblies, Jehovah, by whose call eongregatious as-
semble, and bv whose blessing their souls are bene-
fitted, may here afford his watchful care, his animat-
ing smiles: we have everv reason to believe he will
*
do it, entreated by the earnest and fervent supplica-
tions of the men he loves; himself inclined to bless
the sates of Zion, his eves and his heart shall be
here perpetually: with pleasure will he behold the
favoured spot ; and in the liberality of his heart af-
ford to his assembled saints an earnest, a foretaste,
a lively representation of what those happy spirits
know and feel who are ever with the Lord.
We flatter ourselves, that the erection of an edi-
fice like this is the effect of benevolent feeling to
mankind, and an ardent love to the Great Lord of
all. We unite in endeavouring to maintain the hon-
our of the Saviour's name, and to support the glory
of his cross. We feel, and deeply too, the neces-
sity of possessing somewhat more than this earth
can afford : we regard men as immortals, and we
know that there are blessings, without the enjoyment
of which, those souls will experience continued dis-
appointment here, and will languish forever in ano-
ther world. These necessarv and holv blessings,
the Eternal has chosen to communicate by the in-
strumentality of a preached gospel. We know that
Jehovah, in making up the number of his elect,
works by means : therefore it is that we endeavour
to bring that gospel, the report of which is indeed a
joyful sound, to the ears of mankind, praying that
the blessed Spirit would send it to their hearts.
The erection of this place is a direct attack against
— -against whom ? say my hearers, alarmed at the
328
idea of hostility — against the Church of England ':
jVo ! God forbid ; the very reverse of all this. We
cheerfully take the present opportunity of informing
this numerous auditory* that the doctrines which will
he proclaimed on this ground will exactly corres-
pond, will be just the same, with those contained m
the doctrinal articles of the Church of England,
which are the bulwarks of its faith, and may be read
in most of the Books of Common Praver. Is it,
then, you ask again, an attack against any other
congregation, or body of professing Christians ? My
soul revolts and spurns at the idea ; for in the cause
of Immanuel we wish cordially and constantly to
unite with all those who believe in the Lord Jesus,
both theirs and ours. But in one word, this is an
attack- directed against the kingdom of Satan, and
the prince of darkness. Its object is the transla-
tion of our fellow creatures from his hateful power
and dominion, and their transition into the family
of the blessed household of their Redeemer. With
the sword of the Spirit we wish to combat the old
serpent the devil. In this large and populous town
lie has maintained his seat, he has reigned and tri-
umphed : we long to see him fall, like lightning from
heaven ; and hence we preach that glorious gospel,
which opposes his works, which rescues from his
power, which gives us to expect a final triumph over
him and his followers.
Here we expect that the preaching of the cross
will be heard — that self-righteousness will in no
shape meet with encouragement — that m*n will be
represented as nothing, and Christ as all in all. We
erect no altar to an unknown God, but are boldly
confessing, that we wish every day to approach the
Father of spirits, through the mediation of God our
Saviour, and all this by the gracious aid of the Holy
Spirit. And are any of us so hardened, through the
deceitfulness of sin, as not to wish that here manv
souls may be born to God — may be trained up for
heaven; or shall we not, at the last great day. r<
329
joice to see a goodly company of men, who on (Ims
snot shall have met with the Saviour Jesus, and com-
menced an honourable path to heaven. We frejoice
in the thought, that the cause is God's, and must pre-
vail, and with pleasure we celebrate the growing em-
pire of our King. His church must flourish, became
it is purchased with his blood, and preserved by his
grace. The names of the several denominations
among which it is scatierd may be lost and forgotten,
but its numbers shall increase, and its honours spread
to the end of time.
The Episcopalian church may totter to the ground;
the Presbyterian church may be known no more; the
Independent church may no longer exist as a separ-
ate body ; but the true church, made up of many of
all these, and confined to no one of them, shall in-
crease yet more and more, and ever be acknowledg-
ed the Zion of the Lord, the city of the Holy One
of Israel.
This morning have we cause for gratitude, that
amidst the spread of infidelity, and a vain philoso-
phy, the work of God is not forgotten ; that still his
churches rise and flourish ; that still souls are horn
to God, and the saints shout aloud for joy. In the
sanctuaries where we worship, we have the solace
of our cares, a kind refreshment afforded us in our
journey to heaven, and new light and joy bestowed.
May all this be known amongst us — be known by
posterity when we are cold in death.
1 cannot lose sight of the opportunity which this
morning affords me, of assuring this large and mixed
assembly, that real religion is a personal thing ; that
the gospel we preach must be believed, and its con-
solations enjoyed, or there remains for us no hope of
pardon or of peace. My fellow immortals you have
all sinned, and come short of the glory of &od : hut
we exhibit to you a blessed and perfect Redeemer !
Believe in him, and you shall not be confounded
world without end. And when I meet you in an as-
sembly, far larger and more solemn than this, I mean
*28
330
at the judgment day, you shall be accepted of Iiim ;
}ea, believing in him, you shall then enter a temple,
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens ; and
forever adore the hand that formed it, the grace that
conducted us to it, and the Saviour who fills it with
his glory. Amen.*
On Wednesday, May 29, 1812, the Chapel was
solemnly dedicated to God. On this interesting oc-
easion, the Rev. P. 8. Charrier, of Bethesda chapel,
Liverpool, commenced the morning service by read-
ing a suitable portion of scripture, and offering up a
solemn and appropriate prayer. The Rev. William
Jay, of Bath, delivered a sermon from Psalm exxii.
6, • They shall prosper that love thee.'" The Rev.
Mr. Lister, of Lime-street chapel, concluded by
prayer. In the evening, the service was opened by
reading of the scriptures and praver, bv the Rev. Jos.
Fletcher, A. M. of Blackburn. The Rev. Dr. Coll-
yer, of Peckham, preached from 1 John iv. 8. ' God
is love.' The Rev. Mr. Kershaw, of Edinburgh,
concluded by prayer.
* This is evidently but a rude outline of what was deliv-
ered on that interesting occasion. The effect produced upon
M>( immense auditory which he addressed was remarkably
Dug — and every effect must have an adequate cause.
331
No. VI.
MB. SPENCER'S ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS
PROPOSED TO HIM, AT HIS ORDINATION.
What motives have induced you to enter upon the
important ivork of the Christian Ministry ?
As the religion of the Bible appears in my estimation the
best blessing" Jehovah has bestowed upon the world, I, from
the humble hope that it has shed its influence on my own
heart, am impressed with an earnest wish to be the instru-
ment of conveying its holy advantages to my fellow-immor-
tals ! I say from the hope that I am interested in its bles-
sings ; for in no one sentiment am I more fully established,
than that the ministers of God should be men of God ; that
personal religion is a most indispensable requisite in all who
grasp at the honour of being the servants of Christ and his
churches. That it has pleased God, who separated me from
my mother's womb, to call me by his grace, and reveal his
Son in me, I am led to hope, or I dare not think of the Chris-
tian ministry ! From my earliest infancy, having been bles-
sed with a religious education, my mind was powerfully im-
pressed with the solemnities of death and judgment ; and
often have such impressions been the means of drawing me
to earnest secret prayer, at a very early period of my exist-
ence. Yet did I, as I advanced in age and stature, give
proofs, awfully evident, frequently since distressing to my
mind, of the dreadful depravity of my nature, and of the ne-
cessity of that great change, which I then accurately judged
had not really passed on my soul. But God remembered me
in mercy ! The Holy Spirit made use of the preaching of the
gospel at Hertford by various ministers of our own denomina-
tion, as also by several in the connexion of the late Countess
of Huntingdon, to enlighten my mind in the knowledge of
him ; gradually he drew me to himself; and, I trust, impart-
ed to me, for my best treasure, his love in my heart, the sal-
vation of Christ, with its attendant blessings. Viewing my-
self, then, as a young sinner, blest with special favours, I de-
termined I would not live to myself, but to Him who I believed
had loved me, and given himself for me. I cast myself upon
his care ; I implored his direction as to my future steps ; I
longed to be engaged in the holy ministry, yet God is my
record that I trembled at the idea of rushing into his service ;
of assuming, with daring temerity, a character I was so unfit
to bear. I resolved that I would wait for the direction of his
providence, and then go on in his strength. Christian friends
urged me to devote myself to the work of the Lord ; my own.
S33
mind eagerly seconded their proposals ; yet the consideration
of my youth, and the dread that I was unprepared for the em-
ployment, held me back from the attempt, till after a little
while my acquaintance with Mr. Thomas Wilson commenced :
encouraged by him in the hope that I might be a labourer for
God, I commenced preparatory studies for the ministry, under
the directien of my honoured friend, the Rev. William Hordle,
of Harwich, and, recommended by him, entered the seminary
at Hoxton. Thus, Sir, a persuasion of the great importance
of the preaching of the gospel, a consciousness that God had
imparted to me that tone of mind which seemed adapted to
the employment, the earnest wishes of intelligent and useful
Christians, the clear and evident direction of divine Provi-
dence, and, I hope, the glow of zeal for the honour of our
glorious Redeemer and the good of man, united together to
direct my [coming] to the ministry of the word.
Why do you choose to exercise your Ministry among
Protestant Dissenters ?
The close alliance of the church [of England with the}
state, were there no other argument against it, would be
enough to influence my mind in refusing to enter within
its pale. But my conscience also objects to many of the
terms of communion it imposes, and its acknowledgment of a
human head; to several of its prescribed ceremonies, which
appear to me unlike the simplicity that is in Christ, and xery
unnatural characteristics of a kingdom which cannot be of
this world. Yet, while these are my decided sentiments, I
shall always respect and love the zealous followers of the
Lamb, whom Heaven acknowledges, as his friends among the
members of the established church. May grace, mercy, and
peace, ever be with them ; may the work of God succed among
-them. From all that I can collect from the New Testament,
it appears obvious to me, that all that is meant by a church
of Christ, is a company of faithful men determining to unite
together in his faith and service — bowing to his directions —
submissively yielding themselves up to him — and resolving
to walk in all his ordinances and commandments, blameless !
These churches are, I believe, to be found among those of the
congregational order, and therefore I am united to them.
What are the principal topics on which you mean to
insist in your future ministrations?
My earnest ambition, Sir, is to declare the -whole cornise! of
God, and to give toevery one his portion of meat in due season.
In order that this may be efieclually done, I know that the
333
Mediator's excellencies must be particularly displayed, and
the glories of the cross largely insisted on. I intend, Sir, in
humble dependence on the strength of Christ, without regard-
ing either the smiles or the frowns of man, to endeavour to
approve myself the faithful servant of God. In my discourses,
Christ shall be all in all. His person, work, and great salva-
tion, shall be constantly exhibited in their bearings, upon ev-
ery part of the scheme of religion 1 have beheld in the Bible,
and admired. The solemn truth, that man is totally depraved,
and altogether defiled by sin ; the necessity of regeneration ;
the suitableness of the atonement our Lord has made ; the
nature and blessedness of the influences of the Holy Spirit ;
the various consolations and directions contained in the gos-
pel of Christ, shall all be illustrated and discussed in my min-
istry, according to the ability Jehovah shall bestow. The
doctrines of grace shall maintain a high precedence in all
my ministrations : yet will I, with the most industrious care,
labour to shew that they are doctrines according to godliness.
The holiness of the religion of Christ shall be enfored from
every subject. Thus will I labour to secure the approbation
of God, to preserve an honest and good conscience, to pro-
mote the glory of the great and precious Redeemer of sin-
ners, and to win souls to Christ. The terrors of the Lord
shall be declared to the ungodly; the sure support of our
covenant Lord shall be preached to the faithful ; and Christ
shall be preached to all,
CONFESSION OF FAITH.
I do, Sir, with pleasure, in the presence of this congrega-
tion, deliver to you the sentiments I hold dear to my heart,
and those views of the truth as it is in Jesus ; which, having
imbibed myself, I intend to communicate to my fellow men.
The sentiments I hold, I trace up to their source when I men-
tion the Bible, the book of God, which holy volume, attested
by every evidence that consistency, dignity, purity, miracles
and divine effects can afford, I receive as the standard of
truth, as God's revelation of his own mind and will to men.
Regarding the Bible, then, as able to make us wise unto sal-
vation, I receive as positive and important truths, all that it
teaches concerning God, the world, salvation, heaven and hell.
I believe, then, from the testimony of divine truth, that God
is a spirit, holy, infinite, unchangeable, and perfect in all the
attributes of deity. That in the Godhead, there are three divine
and glorious persons, equal in power and honour — the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Spirit. This sublime mystery I dare
not attempt to explain ; because I know, that we cannot by
searching find out God. nor truce the Almighty to perf'ectie :
334
Yet do 1 most cordially receive the fact, admiring the vari-
ous parts each of them has undertaken in the economy of our
salvation, and adoring a triime God as the proper object of
Christian worship. 1 believe that Jehovah's omniscience fore-
saw from all eternity all the events that should take place in
the universe, and that he orders all things after the counsel
of his own will. I believe that his almighty power created all
the things that do appear, and still supports and upholds them
m the state of existence in which he has wisely placed them.
I believe that the persons in the Godhead did, foreseeing the
fall and ruin of Adam and his posterity, enter into a covenant
engagement with each other, that through their grace, the
lost rebel might be restored to divine favour and friendship,
and to communion with the whole Trinity. In this covenant,
I believe all the blessings of grace are deposited for all the
faithful ; Christ is its surety. He has made that atonement
this covenant secured, and the blessed Spirit communicates
the happy effects of it to the souls of all good men. It was
by virtue of the arrangement of this covenant that Christ ap-
peared once in the end of time, to put away sin by the sacri-
fice of himself. Gradual discoveries of his glory have been
made to the Jewish church ; but at length &je came to redeem
Jacob, to ransom him out of the hand of him that was stron-
ger than he. By his sufferings, his obedience unto death,
and the whole of his mediatorial work, I believe he has pur-
chased the church ; redeemed and saved the goodly company
of men, who by the Eternal Father were for this purpose giv-
en into his hands before time began. And having on earth
finished the work given him to do, I believe that he ascended
to glory, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high,
and ever liveth to make intercession for sinners, that their
corruptions may be purified, their graces may be matured,
and they be finally with him, where he is, to behold his glory.
I believe that the Holy Spirit works on the human mind, when
the time, the set time, to favour the individual, is come ; that
he affects the heart with compunction for sin ; that by the
instrumentality of the gospel, he calls the sinner out of dark-
ness into marvellous light ; that by the influence of divine
truth, he sanctifies the soul; that by the application of the
promises of scripture, and by his own internal witness, he
gives strong consolation to the heirs of God, for such 1 con-
sider those whom he has convinced of sin, and led to Jesus ;
railed, enlightened, sealed, and established, they give. evi-
dence of a divine work upon their souls, by appearing in the
beauties of holiness ; by adorning the doctrine of God, their
Saviour, in all things ; such characters I believe that Jehovah
Views as his church on earth ; his family, below, only sepa-
rated by death from the blest society above ; and for their
335
sakes all nature stands ; to promote their present and eternal
happiness, the gospel was published in the world ; ministers
have been commissioned to serve the Lord, and qualified for
the office ; separate churches have been raised ; the ordinan-
ces of Christ's appointment, viz. the Lord's supper adminis-
tered to believers in Jesus ; and Baptism, designed for those
who from heathen countries were proselyted to the Christian-
faith, and for all the infants of believers — have been preserved
amongst us. In their hearts, the fruits of grace must abound ;
they must walk with God, and be conformed to the divine
image. Such characters must, I believe, endure to the end,
and be saved ; their perseverance, I consider as resting on the
power of God, on the nature of the covenant — Divine faith-
fulness, and the very tendency of the principles of grace. I
consider justification from sin ; the pardon of every offence;
the gradual sanctification of the soul, and its preparation for
heaven, as all blessings of grace, freely bestowed upon the
unworthy ; obtained without money and without price. I
view the' preaching of the gospel as God's appointed means
for the translation of sinners from darkness to light, and for
the edification of his mystical body, the church, by the ex-
hibition of Christ crucified, it had pleased God to save them
that believe.
Through the grace of God, every humble believer will, I
know, eventually appear before the Saviour in glory ever-
lasting. To that state of joy and felicity, I believe all real
Christians to be daily tending ; and am happily persuaded,
from the testimony of God, that those who serve him here
shall reign with him above. Hence the spirit of a good man,
when it is separated from the body, is by its beloved Sa-
viour, received to the final dwelling of the just, where it
waits for the time appointed for the trumpet to sound, and
the dead to be raised, to be again united to the body, then
glorified, and made like the body of the Redeemer.
I anticipate, Sir, the last judgment — I believe that God is
coming to vindicate the right of his own government; to de-
clare the equity of his holy providence, at which we kave in.
our ignorance often murmured ; to banish the impenitent,
the unholy, and all who would not obey the gospel, into tor-
ments, more awful than we can ever imagine, and lasting as
the existence of the soul. On that day, Sir, I believe that we
shall give an account of ourselves unto God, and if found
clothed in the Mediator's righteousness, we shall be declared
approved of God, and welcomed to the joys of heaven. This,
Sir, is the outline of what I conceive to be the faith delivered
to the saints ; these are the fixed principles I have cordially
received myself, and intend to make known to others. Oh !
that my faith in them may be operative and influential, in
supporting my mind under the severe, sharp trials, with
Which my Father in heaven has thought fit to exercise me-;
and may 1 be enabled, in simplicity and godly sincerity, to
- declare these truths to the people of my charge.
In the presence of God, then, his holy angels, those his
servants in the ministry, and this assembled congregation, I
resign myself, my body and soul, my ministry, my all, to the
care and protection of the Great Head of the Church.
' The Lord God of my fathers be with me, as he was with
them : let him not leave me, nor forsake me.' And I most
earnestly and humbly request the prayers of my own congre-
gation, of my brethren and fathers in the ministry, and of all
who witness these solemnities, that God would enable me to
fulfil the duties of my sphere, that he would ever preserve
me from backsliding in religion, that he would fix my way-
ward heart, and preserve it alive to God ; that the ministry
be not blamed.
I do solemnly determine, as far as in me lies, to live to his
glory ; to set a watch over my temper, speech and deport-
ment, that they may not disgrace the gospel of Christ. 1
purpose, relying on the all-sufficient grace of the Master
whom I serve, that I will be instant in season and out of sea-
son; that I will reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long sufler-
i»:g ; that I will labour as for God, and as in the immediate
prospect of eternity. May he assist me to instruct the igno-
rant — to cheer and direct the sick and the dying — to influence
:.ie young to rise and follow Christ — and to do real and ex-
tensive good in this large and populous town ; and when I
have done the labours allotted for me below, after having spent
:i holy and an useful life — oh! may I but hear the Lord say,
*well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy of
thv Lord.* Amen.
FINIS.
ntfi
APR 2 3 1944
