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THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY,

Princeton, N. J.

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Halyburton, Thomas, 1674-

1712. Memoirs of the Rev. Thomas

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CHRISTIAN AUTHORS,

INTRODUCTORY ESSAYS.

N° 11.

by J hn 5cc.lL Glasgow . I SHED BY -WILLIAM COLLINS GLASGOW

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MEMOIRS

EEV. THOMAS HALYBURTON

AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY,

REV. DAVID YOUNG,

PERTH.

FOURTH EDITION.

GLASGOW:

WILLIAM COLLINS, 155, INGRAM STREET;

OLIVER & BOYD, WM. WHYTE & CO., AND WM. OMPHANT & SON',

EDINBURGH; WM. CURRY, JUN.,& CO., DUBLIN; WHITTAKER &CO.. HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO., AND SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., LONDON.

1838.

Wm, Collins cV Co., Printers, Candlerigg Court, Glasgow.

INTRODUCTORY ESSAY.

It is much to be feared, that, in times of peace and prosperity in the church, many have got into her fellowship who know very little, if any thing at all, about the true spirit of Christianity. Impositions of this kind, it is true, like forgeries on our national coinage, have been practised in every age ; for there never was a time, at which it could be said, " They are all Israel who are of Israel." But at present, and especially in our favoured country, there is evi- dence that the church is under an exposure of this kind which is somewhat peculiar. The times are gone by, al which the man who said he was a Chris- tian, had to make good his word at the hazard of his liberty, or his property, or his life ; and the spirit of scepticism, which something more than half an age ago, was so restless, and so full of arrogance, is now put under a powerful suppression. It is not able, as heretofore, to give currency to the maxim, that saintship and imbecility are one and the same thing. The coarse and impious ridicule which, in those clays, laughed the unstable out of his profession, and deterred the timid from putting it on, is, to a great

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extent, subdued. Even the imaginary disrepute which a licentious humour had contrived to asso- ciate with the higher degrees, at least, of practical Christianity, is in no small degree done away with. As matters now stand, the man of piety may be as rigid in his adherence to the law of his God as he will : he may have as much zeal for the purity of his profession — as much shyness of conformity to the world — as much spirituality, and intensity, and ele- vation in his aspirations, as his nature can sustain, without the fear of molestation from any thing in human form.

True, indeed, there are still scoffers among us — and scoffers there will be, so Ions' as there is uno;od- liness : for Christianity is too decided a thing ; its genius is too holy, its demands too reasonable, its denouncements too fearful, and its spirit too power- ful and searching, to be simply let alone by those to whom it is announced. It interferes much too far with the weightiest of human interests, to be viewed with absolute neutrality. It puts itself forth upon every man who lives under its administration, and he must have to do with it in one way or other. He must embrace it, or take care to be ignorant of it, or commit himself to a warfare against it. If he can- not love it, he must hate it — if he cannot bow to its authority, he must exert himself to nullify that autho- rity, in its influence upon his own mind; and as there is no way of effecting this, which is easier in itself, more congenial to his inclinations, or better fitted to stupify his moral feelings, than by working up the whole subject with ludicrous and scornful associations

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— he therefore resorts to this as its readiest mode of attack. This species of assault upon Christianity is not the peculiarity of an age, or a district, or a given state of society, although it may be modified by these ; it is one of the native elements of human depravity, which, in so/ne degree, displays itself in every age and every district, and every state of so- ciety, according as circumstances are favourable or adverse to its operations. But, although the spirit of scepticism, and profane derision, its first-born, be always in hostile array against goodness and piety, yet they have their seasons of comparative impo- tency — and the present is one of these seasons. Their shafts are not flying so thickly, nor wounding so deeply, nor lacerating the feelings so wofully, nor obstructing the march of Christianity so powerfully as in former times. The point of these missiles has been blunted, and their force diminished, by the de- scent of a milder spirit upon general society.

Nor is this all. A profession of Christianity has not only thus far ceased to be persecuted ; it has be- come reputable. Instead of sinking a man into ignominy, it, in many cases, raises him to honour. The transforming efficacy of the gospel is rising, as it were, from the under current of society, and begin- ning to appear on its glittering surface. Wealth, and learning, and political influence, and even prince- ly power, are looking with complacency on the dis- ciples of Jesus, and gradually becoming their allies. How far this may proceed, or at what point in the scale of ascension it may be arrested or repelled, we know not — the inquiry is unpleasant, and may be

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forborne — but we speak of the existing fact, the evidences of which are brightening and multiplying to the eye of every intelligent observer. Now all this is most auspicious. It is producing a mighty change in the aspect of society; it is clearing away the clouds which lowered so long, or floated in such ominous variety over the religious world ; and it is opening to us a prospect from which we derive the most refreshing anticipations. It tells the man who, in other circumstances, would have sat down and counted the cost, and made up his mind to continue as he was, rather than venture on so precarious a transition, that now he has little cost to count ; that the balance, in point of secular advantage, is on the side of a change, or at the very worst, not greatly against it. In short, if it has not gilded the exte- rior of a Christian profession with positive attrac- tions, it has at least diminished the repulsiveness of its appearance, and rendered it more compatible with the ease, and the securities, and the ordinary enjoy- ments of human life.

In these circumstances, it is to be counted on, that those who wear the badge of Christianity shall be more numerous, and less select than they otherwise would have been — that many are joining themselves outwardly to the church, who, had the ordeal through which they pass into her fellowship been more fiery, would have kept their place in the ranks of her ene- mies. We do not say there are too many who have " named the name of Jesus" in outward profession ; for the doing of this is, in itself, a good thing ; and the amount of undisguised profanity in our land, is

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still alarmingly great. Nor do we think it better for the church that ungodly men should appear in their ungodliness, rather than he hid in the mask of hypocrisy : for it is not to be denied, that a goodly exterior in religion, even where there is nothing more, is one of the instruments of which the Most High avails himself, for carrying on his work of mercy. Such a mask may be so artfully put on, and so well sustained, as to conceal a multitude of iniquities, which would otherwise prove contagious, but are thus rendered harmless to all but the de- ceiver himself. But what we deprecate is, the ex- tent of individual delusion which the causes hinted at are likely to produce, and the fearful disappoint- ment which must ensue when characters are scruti- nized. It is in the absence of the storms of nature, and under the genial influence of her dews and sun- shine, that the weeds which are destined to destruc- tion spring up and multiply in the fields of the hus- bandman; and who does not know that there is something analogous to this in the moral region of the church. A name to live, at any time, is apt to be mistaken for that which the name implies ; but at no time is this error so likely to be committed, as when there is little or nothing externally in operation to bring professions to the test. Nor is any man so unwilling to suspect himself of such an error as he who ought most to fear it. It is painful to think of the complacency with which some people call them- selves Christians, and seem to count on it, as a thing undoubted, that whatever Christianity can do for man is theirs by inheritance ; while, from all that is a3

seen about them, there is reason to suspect, that if but a tenth of the sacrifice exacted for it from the men of other times, and cheerfully paid by these men, were exacted from them, they would cast the inheritance behind their back. Such persons can converse on the general principles of Christianity with intelligence and decorum; they can show a mannerly respect for its forms and institutions, but if you go down with them into the interior of the subject, and point out to them its peculiar feelings, its conflicts, and its consolations, they are out of their element. They have no experience of these things; they are conscious of no internal affinity with them ; but still they retain the conviction that they are the disciples of Jesus Christ.

We have no right to indulge a censorious humour, or to speak suspiciously of an age in which there is so much to admire and eulogize. Nor will we do so, for in the movements of its men and its mea- sures, we see an impulse given to Christianity by the Spirit of its great Author, which is awakening feelings, and tending to results the most illustrious and cheering. But it is no reflection on the age, as a season of special goodness from the God of providence, to forewarn man, that the very goodness which is diffused around him in such abounding va- riety, may be converted by him into an occasion of evil. Nay, since the history of our wayward nature sustains the assertion, that times such as ours have been almost uniformly distinguished for such per- versity— since existing circumstances among us are undeniably favourable to a delusion which involves

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m it all that is tremendous in "perdition" — since the symptoms of such a delusion are so obvious, and its consequences so disastrous, there is positive bene- volence, not merely in referring to it, but in urging it frequently, and with the deepest earnestness, on the attention of the Christian public: " What is the chaff to the wheat ? saith the Lord."

It is true, that the things which at present favour the delusion, at least that class of them of which we are treating, are not in themselves of deep discovery, but He open to the view of every mind which is given to serious reflection ; but of how few minds can this be affirmed, especially in the department of personal religion ? How often, in this department, are symp- toms which are obvious to every one else, overlooked by the individual who bears them, or left unexamined, although events of the greatest importance are sus- pended on them ? It is also true, that the faithful ministry of the gospel throughout the land, are fre- quent and assiduous in their pleadings against the influence of an easy and unsuspecting age : for who that is alive to the responsibilities of office — that is zealous for God, or compassionate to man, does not dread its influence, as the most subtle and evasive of all the elements with which he has to contend. It is well that they are so ; and every one of them has reason to hope for his portion of success. But the question is, does the danger continue to exist, or does it not ? Is the charm of the delusion dissolved, or is it still in force ? Are the probable victims of it many, or are they few? Is the suspicion of it, even where the danger is most prevalent, asleep to a

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great extent; or is that suspicion wakeful and active? If the primary of these inquiries bear upon the fact, while the secondary do not — if there be even a pos- sibility, that the majority of men in our professing age, however shrewd or quick-sighted in secular matters, are blessing themselves in religion, in that which they have not — if they be satisfied and com- placent when they ought to be anxious and inquisi- tive— if there be an ominous readiness to say, " Lord, Lord," without a yielding of moral subjec- tion, a doinsj of what is commanded — if these things, in short, can be said, in any measure, to characterize the age, then surely the call is loud for a speedy and thorough investigation. " Prove your ownselves" is the inspired admonition, and the man of wisdom will bend his ear to it.

It is painfully instructive to survey in succession the diversified expedients by which men contrive to keep themselves aloof from the spirit of Christianitv, while yet they admit its importance, and wish to be owned as its friends. They will not embrace it as it is ; and neither are they prepared to let it alone. Their love of sin prevents them from the former; and their fears of retribution, or their respect for outward decency, restrains them from the latter. They are too much under its influence to fly off from it altogether; and too much opposed to it to be brought into actual subjection to it. In this state of mind, they go round it, and round it, looking at it, now in one of its aspects, then in another; but still the distance from which they look at it is so great, and the medium through which their eye penetrates,

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so dim and disfiguring, that the intrinsic excellence of the thing itself is hid from their view. They come short of the reality, and take up with a dark shadow of it, which varies in its degrees of unlike- ness to that reality, according to the measure of their depravity, and the consequent deficiency of their mental vision.

One of the most common, and perhaps the most insnaring expedients, by which men contrive to quiet the pleadings of conscience in favour of Christi- anity, is by attempting to effectuate for themselves, or to systematize for others, a reconciliation be- tween it and the manners of this world, by diminish- ing the claims of the former, and increasing the of- fers of the latter, till, as they suppose, the two are brought into unison. A man of this description sees much to be praised in the morality of the Bible, and much to be blamed in the immorality of the world — for this is his style of talking about the mat- ter. When, in the lower walks of life, he meets with the wanton profanities, or violent infractions upon reason and equity, which are ever disfiguring the aspect of society, and multiplying the miseries of man, he is rendered unhappy, and cannot refrain from deploring such things, with feelings of ingenu- ous sorrow. Nor are his emotions greatly different when, among the higher orders, he meets with so much of the ceremony of sound morality, and so little of its living spirit — so much of its dress and tinsel, and so little of its solid worth. "While the open deformity of the one class offends him, he de- spises the inanity, or deceit which are so prevalent

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polished and intelligent, the friends of morality, and the friends of man, to the utmost limit that their principles can carry them. Were we to remonstrate with such a one, it might be asked, Why should you be content with so distant and loose a view of that which is confessed to be of so immense impor- tance? Why will you not bestow a thorough in- vestigation on this great subject, since you admit its importance, and have it before you in such minute- ness of statement and urgency of appeal? Why should you insist on it, that the religion of Jesus, searching and spiritual although its commandment be, is inaccessible to man, or incompatible with his nature, since it appears so clearly, from man's living history, to be the disease of his nature, and not his nature itself, which creates the whole of the diffi- culty ? Why allow this religion to do no more than smooth the rugged exterior of society, or strengthen a few of the coarser virtues, since the existing monu- ments of its efficacy evince its power to renovate the entire mass from its surface down to the very core ? Why, in short, regard it as a thing of time, if there be so much as a peradventure that it reaches forth to eternity itself? The advocates of Christianity may err, their zeal or indiscretion may hurry them into extravagance, but you have the thing itself pure and entire in the oracles of its God. In the lan- guage which was once applied to a subject of its Author's healing power, we may say to you, It is of age, ask it, it shall speak for itself. Let it tell you its own tale, and disclose to you its own pretensions. But when you consult it, do it justice by looking at

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it as a whole. If its demands be deep and exclu- sive, reaching to the innermost of your thoughts, and the most minute of your moral activities, its gratuities are also rich and equal to all your neces- sities. If it calls for sacrifices which you reckon severe, it proffers rewards which are infinitely more than a compensation. If it shuts you out from gratifications which you now hold dear, it opens to you others, which are inconceivably more delight- ful. If it requires you to " put. off the old man with his deeds, and to put on the new man, which, after God, is created in righteousness and true holi- ness," it accompanies the requisition with an assur- ance, that " it is God who worketh in you both to will and to do of his good Measure." If it proposes so entire a revolution in j jur present views and feelings, it does so, because it has a heaven in reserve for you, and this is indispensable to a participation of its joys. A second subterfuge, under which men are prone to shelter themselves, as a substitute for genuine Christianity is, what has long been called legality, or an attempt to work out their own salvation, with- out a due dependance on the grace of God, as it flows through the atonement of Jesus Christ. Per- sons of this description may be said to come a little nearer to the Bible than the former. They have some acquaintance with the scheme of its doctrines, and they regard it as bearing emphatically on the concerns of a future world. Feeling themselves in- volved in the responsibilities which religion lays open, and exposed to the retribution which it foretels, they have no leisure to theorize on it as a matter of

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general utility, but are constrained to take it up as a matter of individual concern. The law of its God has touched their consciences, denouncing its curse upon every one who continueth not in all things which are written in the book of it to do them. This, as it well may, has filled them with alarm. They perceive an obvious contrast between the very letter of the law, and the general tenor of their conduct; and thus, they stand before it, self-con- demned. In spite of every effort to resist the con- viction, it is forced upon them; that, if there be any thing in religion, there can be nothing for them but " a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation." To quiet this alarm, they betake themselves to an outward amendment of life. If, hitherto, they were openly vicious in their conduct, they become equally open in their observance of the rules of outward decency. They study the Scrip- tures, and draw from them the maxims of a dry morality. They show respect to the stated observ- ances of Christianity; and exhibit, in the whole of their intercourse with society, the signs of a decided transformation. So fair is their aspect, and so hope- ful their tendencies, that the Charity which thinketh no evil, begins to claim them as a part of the Chris- tian brotherhood.

All this is good in its place. It is a tribute to religion, which even impiety itself is sometimes con- strained to pay. It is sometimes the first symptom of a genuine transition from sin to godliness ; but if it be rested in, as the sum total of that transition, it is radically defective. There is a feeling of impotency,

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as well as of short-coming, which has a firm hold of the Christian heart. There is a soul as well as a body in practical religion ; and the former must animate the latter, in order to constitute a real subsistence in the church of the living God. There is an inward glow- ing of love, as well as an outward accordance with rule, which must give freshness and beauty to those activities which he will recognize as obedience to his law. There is an expiation of sins that are past, a cleansing and quickening of the springs of action, and a gradual emancipation from the bondage of cor- ruption, which must be sought after, and must be obtained by a direct application to the Christian atonement, before there can be any value in outward compliance with the Christian precept, as the index of a spiritual transition " from the power of Satan unto God." The question, with the man who wishes to make sure of this transition, will not be, Am I an altered being in the sight of men ? but, What am I in the sight of God ? Is there a new principle of holy vitality working within me, and sustaining my outward conformity ? Am I in some measure conscious of a fervid consecration of heart to the ser- vices of religion — of a settled, or, at least, a settling " delight in the law of the Lord after the inward man" — of an abiding contrition of spirit, produced by a feeling of heinous delinquency, and mellowed by an apprehension of mercy — nay, of a simple re- liance on him, who " of God is made unto us wis- dom, and righteousness, and sanctiiication, and re- demption ?" These are some of the queries which offer themselves for solution, by the man who lays

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claim to the inheritance of the Christian, and so long as he fails to meet them with satisfactory replies, he has reason to stand in doubt of himself. Chris- tianity may do much to overawe a man, when he views it as a ministration of fear — it may do much to train him to an outward uniformity, when he views it as a system of moral institutes ; but, till the inspiration which it breathes, the purity which it generates, and the love which it enkindles, are con- veyed to his heart, he must be destitute of its saving efficacy. " Ye have not received the spirit of bon- dage again to fear, but ye have received the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Father, Father."

Unhappily for man, however, he can do much to impose upon himself in this department. When he first enters on the routine of outward observances, he must feel it irksome, because it is uncongenial to his inclinations ; but, as he proceeds, his mind is gradu- ally formed to it by the power of habit, aided by the imagined relief which it affords him, or the hopes of impunity to which it gives rise. Thus, to a great extent at least, the irksomeness is neutralized ; and mistaking its absence for the presence of its opposite, he makes himself believe that he is just as much a Christian as others around him. Nay, there is a species of pleasure which he may derive from the very subjects in religion, which come in succession under his view. They may go to his heart in a particular way. He may acquire a fondness for them, on the same principle on which he is fond of what is grand or romantic, or tenderly touching in a well-executed fiction. He may work them into

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his feelings, or habits of conversation — he may che- rish the thought of them as a man cherishes a mat- ter of vivid consciousness or delightful experience, and in this way he may practise upon himself a verv artful and a very fatal delusion. It is fearful to think of the ease and efficiency with which a man can blind himself in this way, adhering tenaciously to his own device, and resisting every call to review his procedure, although it may be said of him, with no less truth than of the worshipper of idols, " He feed- eth upon ashes ; a deceived heart hath turned him aside that he cannot deliver his soul, nor say, is there not a lie in my right hand ?"

The most alarming evil connected with this deta- ch

sion is, that it leads the mind by slow degrees, and insensibility it may be, to fortify itself in a position which renders its salvation every thing but impossi- ble. The man is really reformed, though he is not renewed in the spirit of his mind. His reformation is a visible thing, written out on the exterior of his character, known and read of all men. It has been effected withal, under the influence of Christianity, and by the power of Christian truth. On these very grounds it is strongly assimilated to that reformation which is thorough and saving; but in proportion as it is so, the difficulty of detecting its fallacy is mightily increased. The man is so like a Christian that you cannot convince him he is any thing else. The attempt to bring him into doubt about the mat- ter, is defeated by the appearance which it has, or which he can easily give to it, of impertinent or cen- sorious intermeddling. He has not the life of god-

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liness though he wears its form ; and just because he wants it, he is like every other dead man, a stranger to the stirring solicitudes and salutary fears which indicate and stimulate the operation of life. Thus it is that his situation is peculiarly forbidding, and inaccessible to the means of relief, rendering the prospect of his rescue increasingly distant, the longer he continues to hold by it.

When he begins to move in this dry and devious path, and while the fears which induced him to en- ter on it are still fresh in his recollection, you may see him anxious and hesitating, willing to listen to counsel, like one who is " not far from the kingdom of heaven;" but as he gets along, his anxiety sub- sides and his confidence increases, till ultimately he becomes proud and opinionative, sure that he is right, and contemptuous of every one who insinuates the contrary. The darkness thickens as he descends into it, till at length it has acquired consistency enough to close the eye of his understanding, and divert him with images of ultimate safety, till the crisis arrive at which " his iniquity is found to be hateful." It is melancholy to observe the flippancy with which truth and error are jumbled together in the speculations of such persons. They will tell us, with all the ease and confidence imaginable, that Jesus Christ is the Saviour of sinners — that he came into the world to set us an example of suffering and patience, that we should follow his steps — that he died also to teach us the art of trusting in God. even in the greatest extremity ; and that, as there i- in our nature an unhappy tendency to go wrenr. aH

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this was necessary, that by having so bright a pat- tern delineated before us, its beauty and attraction might win us back into the paths of virtue. But to talk of the death of Christ as an atonement for sin, or of the rigours of a law which could require such a sacrifice for any little delinquencies of ours, is, in their estimation, to libel the Deity, and to hold him up to the creatures he has made in a light which is altogether unamiable. While, at the same time, to speak of the universal depravity of man, or of his utter inability to perform an action which accords with the spirit of his Creator's law, is to calumniate the species, and to deprive us at once of every ho- nourable spur to moral activity. For their part, they are quite sure that they love the paths of virtue, and are able to walk in them with but a little assistance, and now that they have the career of the Saviour before their eyes, they see the way to the celestial region quite patent, and make no doubt of arriving there in due time by walking in their own strength, as he also walked. How artful is man in conceal- ing from himself the extent of his own deformity, and by consequence, the peculiar glories of that remedy which God has provided for his disease !

There is a third class of Christian professors, who have posted themselves on an extreme directly op- posed to that which has just been adverted to, whose speculations seem much more evangelical in their complexion, but who, in point of fact, are equally remote from that " repentance which needeth not to be repented of." They not only acquiesce in every thins which the former class denv about the atone-

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merit of Jesus Christ, and the moral inability of man, but strenuously plead for it as indisputable truth, and on it, as a basis, they found the perverse conclu- sion, that they can do, and are required to do abso- lutely nothing at all. Their language is, We are " dead in trespasses and sins," and " Christ is the end of the law, for righteousness to every one that believeth ;" therefore, if we believe in Christ, we have nothing to do with the law in any form, and it has just as little to do with us. We have no right- eousness of our own to present to it, and we re- quire none, for in the very act of believing, the righteousness of our substitute is imputed to us. Instead then of troubling ourselves, as many do, with loud lamentations over what is called remaining corruption, or the sins of the heart and the life, let us abound in joy, for our hope is built upon the very words of inspiration, and we cannot but be safe in the end. How jealous can these persons show themselves for the honour of the Saviour, and the purity of evangelical truth. How mortally do they hate what they call legal preaching, and with what virulence of spirit will they fulminate their condemn- ation of the characters already described.

It would be well for them to remember, that Christianity, as laid down in the Bible, is more than a mere remission of punishment, and must be more, to be worthy of Him from whom it has come. So far from freeing man from his obligation to obey, it posi- tively enforces that obligation, and strengthens it by new motives. If theirs be not a faith then, which " worketh by love, and purines the heart,"

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it is no faith ; and if they do not feel sin, which dwelleth in them, to be a heavy burden, they are no Christians. The theoiy of their creed may be a skeleton of orthodoxy, so far as it extends ; but it is a naked skeleton, and withal it wants the vital parts: the Spirit of life, from the Lord, has not been breathed into it, and therefore it is dead, being alone. Nay, if their religion were genuine, the apostle of the Gentiles would be found in error ; for they are actu- ally making void the law through faith, and convert- ing the grace of God into an instrument of licen- tiousness. Thus it is, that each of these contrasted parties is deviating from the path which leadeth unto life. The works of the first are dead, because they are isolated from faith ; and the faith of the second is dead, because it is isolated from works. The first impeaches the wisdom of God, by supposing that the stupendous economy of redemption, with all its wonders and mysteries, was devised and exe- cuted for no higher purpose, than to give forth a glowing picture of piety to man ; and the second im- peaches his moral attributes, by conceiving him ca- pable of dispensing pardon, without securing purity of heart. The one ensures the ruin of the sinner, by assigning him a task which he can never perform; and the other involves him in the same disaster, by teaching him to neglect what no other can do for him. In short, the victim of the one delusion is proud enough to account himself both the cause and the instrument of his own salvation, while the victim of the other is blind enough to imagine that he is neither the one nor the other.

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The man who follows his Bible as Ids guide, is kept from the extravagance of either extreme. It tells him, that God has procured the whole of our salvation by his own power, through the mediation of his Son, in our nature ; and to the procuring of this, the helpless creature can contribute nothing whatever, for it is all of God. But it tells him also, that in applying this salvation to its perishing objects — in planting the principle of renovation in the heart of a particular sinner — and in making it to live and pospcr there, he makes use of the moral constitu- tion of that sinner, his bodily and mental faculties, as an appropriate agency for promoting the work, and bringing it to perfection. It tells him, that the God of heaven, by his divine Spirit, is the great ef- ficient of all the saving efficacv which is wrought into the heart of man in this world; while the moral activities of the man himself, are the chosen instru- mentality on which, and by which the energy is put forth. " I laboured more abundantly than all my contemporaries," says an apostle, " yet not I, but the grace of God which was in me," or operating by me. As we have no warrant to look for miracles under an organized dispensation of the Gospel — as it would be impious even to suppose, that after ap- pointing the means of man's deliverance, and adapt- ing them most wisely to the furtherance of the end, the Most High would disregard them, or countenance a dereliction of them in any one instance — so the-: must be employed, and employed too with unwearied diligence, in order to success. While, therefore, we are to ascribe all the saving benefits connected

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with Christian agency, purely to the grace of God; and while we are, in no case, to ascribe to this agency any thing like merit or efficient causation, we are, at the same time, to beware of detracting from it, even the smallest item of its warranted value, or of excusing our own indolence by the plea, that we can do nothing at all ;' for we can do something — we can do evil: and therefore, as reasonable be- ings, we can do actions which would be good if our hearts were right. There is nothing more obvious, from the whole tenor of Scripture, than that every man who has the use of reason, and lives under the administration of Christianity, has a part to act in the matter of his salvation ; and it is not too much to say, that unless he act that part he cannot be saved. The voice from heaven plainly shows us that there is a middle path between the two ex- tremes already noticed ; and this middle path it calls upon every man to seek out and to prosecute. It af- fords no hope of salvation, on the one hand, by works of righteousness which we can do, but directs us to the atonement of Jesus Christ, as the only ground of confidence ; reminding us, at the same time, that this atonement is realized and rested on, by the ex- ercise of a faith which is wrought into the heart of every convert by the Spirit of God. Nor, on the other hand, does it encourage us to trust in an ima- gined interest in this atonement, while there is no visible change in the spirit of our minds. On the man whose guilt is uncancelled, and whose pollution, of course, is yet in its entireness, it urges the atone- b2

XXV11J

mcnt as the only application by which the one can be expiated, or the other washed away. It speaks out on this subject, in language the most expressive, forewarning every man, that holiness to the Lord must not only be inscribed upon him nominally, but infused into him really; and that the fruits of it must appear, not merely as a seemly appendage to his Christianity, but as an essential part of it, in the absence of which he cannot be saved.

Another thing, which often prevents a man from imbibing the spirit of saving truth, is the overgrowth of a speculative turn of mind — a weed in the vine- yard of the church, which is peculiarly pestilent in its influence, and which is usually most luxuriant at a season of ease and outward tranquillity. The man who is affected by this contagion, begins to inter- meddle with every thing in religion, and hopes to reason his way through every thing, however intri- cate or mysterious. If he be puzzled or arrested in his course, as must soon be the case, when so impo- tent a being as man applies himself to the things of Clod, he tries to extricate himself by using liberties with the word of God, which are forbidden by piety, and can only tend to lower it in his esteem. He opens his Bible, perhaps, for the seemingly harmless purpose of giving scope to his ingenuity ; but it instantly meets him with precepts which he dislikes, or with doctrines which he cannot unriddle; and just because he is nonplussed, he quarrels with the re- cord, casts suspicions over its authenticity, or palms on it a theory which it manifestly disowns. In short,

XXIX

he will do any thing, rather than forego his opinions in homage to its authority, or submit his bewildered intellect to be tutored by its dictation.

The instances are very numerous, in which a love of speculation, commencing under the disguise, or mingled with the honest intention, of candid in- quiry, has carried its unwary victim, by slow but sure advances, into the wildest of scepticism. Such instances are ever occurring ; and so fatally does this passion sophisticate the mind, and deaden its sensi- bilities, that very few of those who are once caught in its snares, are ever found to regain their liberty. It does happen, indeed, with some degree of fre- quency, that the man, who never was any thing else in religion than a reckless theorist, is ultimately con- vinced, and reclaimed; but the man who, after putting on its profession, and giving himself over to its stu- dies and observances, has turned aside in this direc- tion, passes into a region from which scarcely a tra- veller ever returns. The aberrations of the intellect, in this department, cannot fail to affect the heart ; for thought and feeling are inseparably conjoined in the human constitution, and incessantly acting and re-acting on each other. And if a man can let him- self down to the idea, that the Spirit of God may be argued with, or even corrected by him, his feel- ings will speedily modify themselves into a confor- mity with that idea, his heart will escape from the control, and forget the sacredness of divine revela- tion ; and thus will he bring himself, unwittingly, it may be, but in fearful reality, to the very confines of that sin, which God has not said he will forgive.

XXX

How suitable then, and how cogent, is the apostolic admonition, " Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God."

It is easy to see, that the characteristic of this state of mind is pride of intellect, with a consequent insubordination of heart to the authority of the Most High. Reason herself proclaims it, where her voice is listened to, that man, even in his best estate, is unable to solve the mysteries of the Godhead. It is to her that revelation appeals, when it gives the challenge to man, as man — a challenge at once so eloquent, and so humiliating to his pride — " Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection ? It is the heights of heaven; what canst thou do ? deeper than hell; what canst thou know ? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea." But, if reason can respond to such an appeal, even from the darkness of her depravity — if she can perceive its force, in some measure, by the lunar dimness of na- ture's theology, how much more deep, and enlarged, and abasing, must be her recognitions of it, when en- lightened and refreshed by the beams of revelation. Aided by this new luminary, she sees man, as a sin- ner smitten with a blindness of mind, and seared into a hardness of heart, which prevents him from con- templating any one doctrine of revelation in the glow of its interest, or in the amplitude of its dependen- cies. She sees it to be an awful truth, that the " natural man receivcth not the things of God, nei- ther can he know them, because they are spiritually

XXXI

discerned" — nay, that he is so perverse in heart, and so prone to err, even after being in part renewed, as to render it necessary for him to live much by faith, and little by sight, as long as he lives at all in this world.

The man of speculation, however, will not admit that he is so helpless or insignificant a creature as all this would imply. He claims the privilege of deciding for himself, not only on the opinions of men, but on the declarations of the Infallible God, taking or rejecting his divine communications, ac- cording as they agree or disagree with his own pre- conceptions. He will listen to no reasoning which involves a suspicion of his incompetency; but, with all his depravities about him, and amidst all the con- jectures and dubieties in which he is involved, he sets forth his own misguided notions, and acts upon them, as the exclusive test of truth or error, propriety or impropriety, in matters of religion. This, we say, is the fundamental error of the persons to whom these remarks apply. They will judge for them- selves, independently of God or man, in that about which it is impossible for them, in the blindness of their minds, to form a sound conclusion; and the consequence of this determination is a departure from the truth as it is in Jesus.

The way to be extricated from so perilous a state of mind, is to give up with this determination, as altogether foolish and irrational — to admit the obvi- ous truth, that man is so blind, as to require a reve- lation from heaven — to bow to that revelation, which God has so graciously sent, and so fully attested —

XXXI 1

to suffer it to check the profanities, and set limits to the daring excursions of erring reason — to sit down, in short, in the simplicity of genuine discipleship, in readiness to be taught by the Bible. Nor let it be objected, that this is despotic, tending to shackle the human understanding, and put an end to the freedom of thought : for if it be granted, that man is in dark- ness— a thing which is proven by his actual history, as well as admitted, and deeply deplored, by thou- sands who never heard of the Bible — the freedom of thought, that is, of thinking rightly, is put an end to already. Man may bluster as he will about his in- tellectual liberties, or boast himself ever so loudly of the prerogatives of his nature; but every error in judgment which he commits, and every deviation from the line of moral rectitude with which he is chargeable, is a link in that chain of legitimate evi- dence, which completes the demonstration, that his faculties are enslaved.

Since then, it is a fact which cannot be put down, but which every new generation of our race rises up and verifies afresh, that man cannot speculate his own way to the knowledge of truth, or the practice of ho- liness, how then can he be relieved, unless the prin- ciples, which have power to renew him, be unfolded to his mind, and infused into his heart, by the God that made him ?

Freedom of thought now, alas ! is but another name for licentiousness of thought. The passion for it is rebellion against the Godhead; and reason, philosophy, experience, religion, all combine in as- suring us, that we can never be free, till we are

XXX111

brought, in deep humility, and in honest sincerity, to listen to him, who alone has the right to dictate, and who exercises that right in telling us, that he " has sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins."

It is not to be supposed, however, that a fond- ness for extravagant thinking is always harmless, except when it terminates in infidelity. The un- bridled liberties of this kind, which, in many circles, are so boldly claimed, and so vainly gloried in, may be very mischievous, without producing such a shak- ing of opinions, as throws a man loose from the whole system of Christian truth. Where it cannot slay, it is sure to sicken the spirit of piety. Where it cannot altogether arrest the functions of spiritual life, it may yet have power enough sorely to oppress, and wofully to enfeeble their operations. It is the offspring of pride, as already hinted, and it nurses the parent from which it sprung. It never fails to make a man imperious, disputatious, and warlike, in the general habit of his mind, and thus renders the soil of his heart much too arid and fiery for attract- ing the unction, or imbibing the mellow placidity of heavenly devotion. It is not amidst the storms of nature, when the heavens are lowering, the tempest raging, and the element in conflict, but in the still- ness of her calm, that the dews descend, which re- fresh and fructify the herbage of the earth. Nor is it in the storm of intellect, or the conflict of angry feeling, but in the stillness of contemplative piety, that those gentle distillations are felt descending, b3

XXX IV

which are fraught with sweet and reviving influence to the spiritual region of the church.

While, therefore, a man may feel himself in no danger of being carried into infidelity by his love of argumentation, or his eagerness to fathom the depths of Christian mystery, it becomes him still to ascer- tain, whether the topics on which he fixes, and the state of mind in which they are approached by him, be such as are most likely to guide him forward to solid attainment. If a man be foolish enough to put into his stomach, that which, though agreeable to his palate, cannot be digested into bodily nourish- ment, he must suffer harm ; because the laws of his constitution forbid that any thing should be there stated which is not available for the purpose. Know- ledge is the nourishment of piety, and nothing in re- ligion, however ingenious or fascinating, deserves the name, if it cannot be digested into pious emotion. Just in proportion as it is irreducible to this, is it in- jurious to the spiritual man, tending inevitably to minister something which is adverse to " godly edi- fying." Nor is it necessarily the case, that opinions which are not subservient to piety, are therefore in themselves erroneous. The error may consist, and very often does consist, in inverting the order of procedure. That which is food to a full grown man, would be death to an infant, because the infant has not yet arrived at the vigour of constitution which would enable him to work it into his bodily system. Were the man, who has formed the pur- pose of mastering a human science, to pass over its

XXXV

elements, and plunge at once into its deepest myste- ries, he would feel himself puzzled, to a degree which, in all likelihood, would drive him off from it, with feelings of disappointment and disgust.

Christianity is a science. Its principles are capable of being gathered up, and built together, into one of the grandest and best constructed systems which the human intellect ever contemplated. But this is not the point: there is all the order, and dependency, and nice adjustment of science, in the manner of its growth in the heart of man. The man who comes to it practically, must begin by taking up and appro- priating its first principles. Nor is it till after he has mastered these, or rather has been mastered by them, that his understanding can be opened, or his affections seasoned, for comprehending its ultimate disclosures. The first thing with which it presents him, is not a key to the solution of its mysteries, but a development of his own malady, with an ex- hibition of its sanative efficacy ; and if he refuses this exhibition, or tosses it aside till he has explored the theory of its doctrines, he deprives himself inevitably of all its benefits, and converts it into an enforce- ment of his previous doom. Such, however, is the way in which many people commence the study of Christianity. They will take up the question which it agitates, but they will not take it up as its Author has laid it down to them. They will discuss its pre- tensions, but, in defiance of all example, and all ana- logy, they will not begin at the beginning of the subject. They thrust themselves in upon its pro- foundest doctrines, before they are prepared for ex-

XXXVI

amining these doctrines. They come out with their objections to its peculiar statements, not considering, that the want of what is elementary — the want of renovation in the spirit of their own minds, and this alone — is the reason why they prosecute these ob- jections. The authority of heaven, however, and the reason of the thing, cannot be overset, to ac- commodate their perversity : for, says the Saviour — and the converse of his affirmation is strongly im- plied— " If any man will do the will of God, he shall know of the doctrines whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself."

Such, we apprehend, is a specimen of the many delusions which are current in the world, under the name of Christianity; and there is ground to fear, for the reasons formerly suggested, that they, or others equally noxious, are more prevalent, and less suspected, in our times, than in those of which our fathers have told us. Nor do we know of a better expedient for counteracting their influence, and awakening the spirit of inward research, than by bringing up, as it were, from the dead, and present- ing to us anew, the practical writings of England's Puritans, and Scotland's Covenanters. These men lived in times which required the man of God to be resolute and quick-sighted. Many of them had to minister to a people " scattered and peeled" by the sword of oppression, without any thing to sustain them but the strength of Christian principle, or any thing to account for the greatness of heart, which they so generally displayed, but the divinity of their religion working within them. In these circurn-

XXXV11

stances, they occupied a position, which was not more trying to them, than it was instructive to us. They were obliged to examine their religion, that the things for which they expended their efforts, and surrendered their lives, might be well ascertained. They were obliged to make proof of its spiritual re- sources ; for on these alone they had to cast them- selves, amidst calamities the most formidable to flesh and blood. They had to grasp it in the hand of an eager and nervous belief, lest the mighty agitations of their times should wrest it away from them. They were driven to the necessity of signalizing themselves thus, at the hazard of making shipwreck of principle and conscience. They gave way to that necessity, and the result remains to be reaped by us. In amassing the lore of didactic theology, they have had their superiors; for theirs was not a time for plodding retirement ; but in dissecting the workings of the human heart — in laying open the arcana of its sins or its pieties — in tracing its practical sophis- tries, through their manifold labyrinths and illusions — in correctly discriminating between the spirit of Christianity, and the spirit of this world — in arous- ing the dormant energies of the soul, by bringing Christian motives with point upon the conscience — in fearlessly meeting, and putting to shame, the pre- valent enormities of their times — and in suffusing the whole of their lucubrations with the warmth and raciness of evangelical feeling, they stood high among the highest. True enough, they were not perfect men. Of necessity, they partook of the blemishes of their times. Nor is it to be wondered at, that

, XXXV111

some of them were chafed in spirit, and hurried into extravagance, by the pressure of suffering which was iniquitously heaped upon them. But still they were men of renown ; and, if but a portion of their spirit shall be resuscitated, as it is now beginning to be, through the medium of their works, it will give to us, under God, the very stimulus which we want ; it will resist that rapid dilution of Christian piety, which there is so much reason to apprehend ; it will prove a powerful instrument for awakening solici- tude, " and strengthening the things which are ready to die."

Of all the productions, however, which belong to these times, or come within their vicinage, we know not of one which is so well fitted to produce the ef- fects referred to, as the following Memoir. The subject of it, it is true, cannot, in strictness, be called a Covenanter; but he arose immediately after these men ; he was cradled and educated amidst the jeo- pardies which befel them ; their struggles and man- ner of life were fresh in his recollections; and he was ultimately inspired with a large portion of their spirit. At the time when Christian truth made its first impression on his conscience, convincing him of his danger, and disturbing his unholy repose, it found him, as it finds all, an enemy to its dictates, and resolute to repel its inroads upon his heart. But his was, in many respects, a singular case. The in- fluence of a religious education had formed his child- hood to the habits of outward decency; while the pious vigilance of maternal love, conjoined with this influence, and aided by the restraints of a sickly

XXXIX

constitution, withheld his early manhood from the circles of the dissolute and profane. But, in spite of these advantages, he was emphatically " stout- hearted, and far from righteousness," resisting con- viction altogether, where he could resist it, and where he could not, diminishing its force, or parrying it off, by a plausible compromise between the claims of his God and the idols of his heart. Scarcely is there a position which was ever taken up by the enmity of man against the mercy of his Maker, but was occu- pied by him, and resolutely maintained, till it was driven from under him ; and scarcely, we should think, can a " refuge of lies" be entered by those who come after him, but was previously entered by him, and made his dwelling-place, till he found it to be no shelter. In short, the history of his advance toward Christianity, so long in its duration, so full of incident, and so frequently obstructed by relapses, with the repose which he tasted on his arrival at it, and the growth of Christian character in his after years, all opening upon us so biographically, so richly interwoven with Scriptural reference, and coming in so aptly on our past or present experience, is a trea- sury of instruction, which ought by no means to be shut up from the present generation of men.

Most devoutly is it to be wished, that the wan- derers referred to in the foregoing pages, would take it up, and bestow upon it a- candid perusal. It is fitted to be profitable to men of all standings in the church ; but it is peculiarly adapted to them. They will see in it, in vivid delineation, the very thing which is wanted, by the help of God, to disentangle

xl

their souls, and thus to introduce them to solid com- fort, and everduring peace. The minuteness of dis- crimination which its author exemplified, and the painfulness of effort with which he sought out the treacheries of his own heart, may he formidable to some readers, inducing them to suppose, that, if this be Christianity, it is never to be theirs ; and these things, it must be confessed, belong to the subject ; for the remedy which heaven has prepared for man must not be diluted, for the silly purpose of render- ing it palatable. But, if man must be trained to discriminate, with not a little nicety, in the sciences and the business of this world, why should he hope to be freed from it in religion? If he knows its value, and will not act without it, in things which are temporal, how can he think of setting it aside in things which are spiritual? If the shadowy acquire- ments of three score and ten years demand it of him, and have the demand complied with, will he give a denial to that which spreads itself out over all eter- nity? Withal, the difficulties attendant on the re- ligion of the heart, are most formidable to those who are strangers to it, and who, of course, can only judge of it in the recorded perplexities of other men. By the man who is under the pressure of the sub- ject, and feelingly alive to the interests it involves, they are not mustered in imagination, but grappled with in fact. He counts not on them, but on the things which are beyond them; and, however impo- tent and reluctant, he is strengthened, and carried onwards, by the power of that Spirit " who search- eth all things, yea, even the deep things of God."

xli

It has been known, we believe, that the timid and hesitating Christian has caught alarm from this vo- lume, and been led, in the perusal of it, to pro- nounce upon himself a severer sentence than his short-comings required. It is every way likely, however, that the cases are few in which such mis- takes have done any permanent injury; and to guard against them, it is only necessary to mark the differ- ence between the infirmities, or imbecilities, which are incident to one Christian, and the altitudes of attainment which are arrived at by another. The allowances made for this diversity, are more fre- quently too great than too small. But the man whose piety is languishing, because he is remiss in fostering its growth, or suffers it to be broken in upon by frequent immersion in secular pursuits, will find, in the following pages, a most seasonable and powerful caveat. If he look at all with an eye of candour, in traversing the scene through which it leads him, he cannot fail to be struck with the contrast between what he is, and what he ought to be ; and when this contrast stands out before him, as a minis- tration of reproof, let him make use of it, also, as a stimulant of exertion ; for there is nothing more de- structive of Christian piety, or more fertile in dis- comfort to the Christian himself, than a slow and imperceptible encroachment on its sacredness by the concerns of this world. " Be not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God."

D. Y.

Perth, May, 1824.

CONTENTS.

Page Preface, by Isaac Watts, ... .49

A Short Account of the Rev. Thomas Halybirton, 57

PART I.

INTRODUCTION. — THE STATE OF MATTERS WITH ME FROM THE TIME OF MY BIRTH, TILL I WAS ABOUT TEN YEARS OF AGE, ...... 85

PART II.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE RISE, PROGRESS, INTERRUPTIONS, REVIVALS, AND ISSUES, OF THE LORd's STRIVINGS WITH ME, DURING THE TEN OR ELEVEN ENSUING YEARS OF MY LIFE, FROM MAY 168.5, TO AUGUST 1696, > 78

CHAP. I. An Account of the first rise of my Concern about Religion, its Results, Revivals, and other occur- rences relating thereto, for the first two years of this time, ...... ib.

CHAP II. An Account of the Revival of Convictions, their E Sects, Progress, Issues, and Interruptions, from the close of 1687 to 1690, or 1601, when I went from Perth to stay at Edinburgh, ... 86

Xhv CONTENTS.

I'.ige

CHAP. III. An Account of the Increase of my Convic- tions, during my stay at Edinburgh, from harvest 1690, or 1691, till May 1693, and the vain Refuges to which I took myself for relief, .... 94

CHAP. IV. An Account of the Progress of the Lord's Work, the Straits I was reduced to, and the Courses I took for relief, from May, 1693, when I left Edinburgh, till I went to the family of Wemyss, August 1696, 101

PART III.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE LORd's WORK) FOR THE SPACE OF ABOUT THREE YEARS ENSUING) FROM AUGUST 1696, TO JUNE 1699 5 THE DREADFUL STRAIT TO WHICH I WAS AT LAST BROUGHT, WITH MY DELIVER- ANCE, AND THE STATE OF MATTERS WITH ME FOR SOME TIME AFTER THIS, ..... 127

CHAP. I. An Account of the Progress of my Convictions, Temptations, and vain Reliefs, from the time I went to the Wemyss, till I was at the last brought to this utmost extremity, ...... ib.

CHAP. II. An Account of the Relief I got about the close of January 1698, and the state of matters thereon, 149

CHAP. III. An Account of the Pleasure of my Case at this time, the Mistakes I was still under, the sad Effects of them, and the way of their Discovery, . . 1 72

CHAP. IV. An Account of my Strugglings with Indwell- ing Sin, its Victories, the Causes of them on my part, and God's Goodness with respect to this Trial, 184

CHAP. V. An Account of my Exercise about the Guilt of Sin, the Means of obtaining Pardon, and the Intima- tions thereof, , . . . .162

CONTENTS. xlv

Hage CHAP. VI. My Exercises about the Being of God, and showing the way of my Relief from this Temptation, 211

CHAP. VII. An Account how I came to be satisfied that the Scriptures are the Word of God, and how Tempta- tions, in reference to them, were repelled, . 220

CHAP. VIII. A short Account of the Issue of some other Tenir* itions with which I had been exercised, and the Relief I obtained, with respect to them, from the Lord, 229

PART IV.

SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS ORDINATION TO THE HOLY MINIS- TRY, AND HIS CONDUCT THEREIN, . . "-43

CHAP. I. Of his being licensed to preach the Gospel, ib.

CHAP. II. On his entering on the Ministry at Ceres, 247

CHAP. III. Of his Management in the Work of the Mi- nistry, ...... 260

CHAP. IV. His Judgment concerning several Cases, espe- cially with respect to his own Exercise and Practice, 2o8

CHAP. V. Of his Marriage and conduct in his Family, 27o

CHAP. VI. Of his entering on the Profession of Divinity, 292

PART V.

AN ACCOUNT OF SOME OF HIS LAST WORDS, ON HIS DEATH- BED, SEPTEMBER, 1712, • • • 297

MEMOIRS

REV. THOMAS HALYBURTON.

PREFACE.

Though the Gospel of Christ was abundantly con- firmed in the first ages of Christianity, by testimo- nies of every kind, yet I love to see daily and living witnesses arise, and set their seal to the truth and divinity of this Gospel. Every transcript of it in the heart of a Christian is a new argument to confirm it. " Blessed is he that believes, for he has the witness in himself, that Jesus is the Son of God :" and bless- ed is he that hath wisdom and courage in this un- believing age, to make this inward testimony appear and shine to the world. This is one reason why I value the memoirs of holy men; and among those which I have seen, I am not ashamed to recommend this as one of the most valuable, and that on these accounts, namely,

I. I found here the inward and experimental work of Christianity described at large, by a wise, a learned, and an ingenious man, who seems to have been a strict observer of his own spirit, and of all the secret motions of it, and the more secret springs. Here you may see the crooked and perverse work- ings of a carnal heart in a state of nature ; the subtle twinings of the old serpent to keep the soul from c 11

50

God and his Christ; and all the counter-workings of sovereign grace, which in the end appears victori- ous ! You see here the self-flattery and piany de- ceits, whereby sinners raise a good esteem of them- selves, and build up their vain confidence, in oppo- sition to the holiness of the law, and the grace of the gospel; and here Christians may learn much of the holy skill that is needful to maintain a constant and glorious war with sin, by strength that is in Christ, and they may read the triumph of a dying conqueror.

Now, though every Christian hath some inward sense of divine things, yet every one has not so rich a variety of experiences; and among those that have, few are so watchful as to take a due account of them; few so wise as to judge aright concerning them; and few so faithful and bold as to consign these things to writing for the use of others. Men that are fit to publish their observations of this kind gene- rally imagine, that humility requires to bury them in silence and darkness. But the author and subject of this narrative was a man of great piety, bright natural parts, studious learning, and uncommon penetration and judgment, as sufficiently appears in his other writings; yet there is such a vein of hu- mility and honesty that runs through every page, that you may see the secret workings of his thoughts, through his holy language. His sins as well as his graces, lie open to sight, the labours of his soul ap- pear to the eye, and the pious reader will find him- self at once delighted and improved. So the curious operations of bees are seen through a hive of glass,

51

and the spectator is at once entertained with instruc- tion and pleasing wonder.

II. Another thing that gave me an esteem of this work, was the account that is given of an evangeli-

' CO

cal conversion, after the author had been long strug- gling with sharp convictions of conscience, and la- bouring under sharp agonies and terrors. He had been fighting with guilt and corrupt nature to attain holiness, pardon, and peace, by all the methods that the reason of man would naturally suggest, and bv the doctrines and duties of the gospel itself, used in a more legal way and manner ; and found his labours repeated and vain, and his work still to begin. Here he describes at large the utter insufficiency of all con- victions and awakening words and providences, all tears and repentance, all religious duties of worship, public and private, all vows and promises, covenants and bonds with which he bound his soul to God; and how sin prevailed and triumphed over them all when they were practised only in a legal manner, as a mere task of conscience, and without the delightful taste of the grace of the gospel. All these left him still under guilt, under the power of sin, and in the ut- most confusion, near to despair, till it pleased God to open his eyes to behold the mercy and comfort of the gospel as the way to holiness and peace ; till divine grace brought him as a dying sinner, empty of all good, and helpless, to the full salvation that is in Christ, and sweetly constrained him lo receive peace and holiness together ; till he learned the way of sanctification by faith and hope in a pardoning Grvd, a God reconciling sinners to himself, through c2

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Jesus the Redeemer. This overwhelmed his soul at once with deep humility and repentance, with wonder and holy joy, with hope and love, and con- strained him to pleasant obedience. This renewed his nature, this wrought in him all the powers and principles of Christian holiness, and raised and sup- ported them in a glorious degree.

Now, though I dare not confine the workings of the blessed Spirit, who is infinitely free and various in his operations, and he hath carried thousands to salvation in a more legal way, and doth daily con- form his divine workings in many souls to their lower degrees of light and evangelical knowledge, as well as to their natural tempers and their tempta- tions ; yet it is my judgment that such a conversion of sinners as this Author experienced, is always more frequent where the Gospel obtains in its purest light, and its divinest glory, and seems to be more akin to the spirit of Christianity.

III. The last thing that I shall mention, that I remark in this work, is the full confirmation that is given to our holy religion, and to this noble method of divine grace, not only in the most watchful and holy life, but also in the most joyful and glorious death of this good man. Death takes off every possible disguise, and makes us think and speak sin- cerely; and yet you see him still the same. Here we find reason and learning giving their testimony to the Gospel, and to the power of godliness, with a living pen and with dying lips.

i hough this book may be of great use to all that will read it with an humble and serious temper, yet

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the persons to whom I would chiefly recommend it, are these, namely —

First, To my younger brethren in the ministry. Perhaps they may learn from these papers, the way of suiting their discourses, in public and in private, with a more happy turn for the relief and salvation of souls. I am persuaded, if we all consulted the work- ings of the Spirit of God on the hearts of Christians, and the various devices of corrupt nature, and the wiles of Satan, as they appear in such memoirs as these, we should learn better how to deal with the consciences of men, in order to their sanctification and comfort, and put the doctrines of the Gospel to their proper use. We should all preach the abound- ing grace of Christ, in order to lead sinners to de- light in the law of God, and more effectually direct and draw them to the practice of that " faith that works by love."

Next, I would recommend it also to those persons, that are awakened to a sense of their sin and danger, and seeking the way of salvation, that they may not run into mistaken methods, nor follow the false and flattering dictates of a mere natural conscience, lest, with their Bibles in their hands, and the Gospel on their lips, they seek righteousness and peace "as it were by the works of the law." Here they will find, that hope is the surest and kindest spring of holiness, and that there is no solid and lasting peace but what is built on the clear discoveries of forgiving grace; and that faith only can purify the heart.

I would recommend it, in the third place, to poor

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melancholy souls, who walk watchfully and mourn- fully before God in every duty, and labour in reli- gion, and travel on in heaviness all their days. They dare not indulge their hopes, nor scarce admit any degrees of comfort, because their holiness is so im- perfect. Let them learn, from this example, to try whether they would not sooner arrive at great degrees of sanctification, by going farther out of themselves to fetch their comforts, and by letting their hope live on the freest and richest promises of the cove- nant of grace, wherein repentance and holiness are promised, as well as pardon and happiness. Let them try, whether an humble trust in Christ, as their righteousness and their strength together, would not fill them with powerful constraints of love, and lead them to a sweet delight in every duty; and thus that good word would be fulfilled unto them, " The joy of the Lord shall be your strength."

I would commend it also to those Christians that have begun to walk with God cheerfully in the ways of his gospel-grace. Here they may be assured, that all the glorious grace of the Gospel will by no means excuse them from daily labour, and care, and watch- fulness, from constant and earnest prayer, and uni- versal diligence, in all the duties of godliness : for if these be omitted, sin will prevail, and Satan gain many advantages to bring them back to guilt and bondage again. Sin prevailing will spread a tem- porary darkness and death over all the vigour and beauty of their religion ; but when they are fallen iato such degrees of backsliding and decay, they may learn here, that the only way of their recovery

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is by faith and hope in the Gospel ; by trusting, as undone sinners, in an all-sufficient Saviour ; and their only security all along the road to heaven, is by joining diligence and dependence together.

May the blessed Spirit, who formed the soul of this Author to the divine model of his Gospel, form the heart of every reader by the same perfect rule, and raise them to equal or to higher degrees of faith and holiness, that they may be living witnesses and honours to the name of Christ ; and let them join with me to adore my God and Saviour, who, though he hath secluded me from service in his house, by long sickness, yet honours me to stand as a figure on his high-way, to direct travellers in the road; and while he restrains my tongue from its delightful work, he is pleased to use me as a silent finger to point to the footsteps of a faithful shepherd, and by them to guide the flock in their way to heaven.

I. WATTS.

Theobalds in Hertfordshire, May, 1, 1718.

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ill?

THSOLOGH

SHORT ACCOUNT

REV. THOMAS HALYBURTON.

Mr. Thomas Halyburton, Professor of Divinity in the New College at St. Andrews, was born in Duplin, in the parish of Aberdalgy, December 25, 1674, of worthy and godly parents, Mr. George Halyburton and Margaret Playfair. His father was descended from the family of Pitcur, in the county of Angus, and was minister of Aberdalgy, in the presbytery of Perth, out of which he was summarily ejected by the government, in the year 1662, as well as about three hundred other minis- ters, without any legal process, simply for noncon- formity to Prelacy.

Mr. George Halyburton, the Bishop of Dunkeld, who had been a zealous covenanter, suddenly be- came so forward for the national defection, and so cruel a persecutor of his former fellow-presbyters, that he would not spare him more than others, though he was his near kinsman, but turned him out of his charge. And yet that prelate was scarcely well in the enjoyment of his benefice, when the c3

Lord smote him with sore sickness, of which he died, and went to his place.

Our Author's father never repented his faithful- ness in adhering to the covenanted work of reforma- tion ; but rejoiced that he had been honoured to suf- fer on that account : and when he fell asleep in the Lord, in the year 1682, in the 55th year of his age, he died in the faith of this, that God would deliver this church from the sore persecution it was then under. His mother was daughter to Mr. Andrew Playfair, the first minister of Aberdalgy parish after the reformation from Popery; to which her husband succeeded, a little before the restora- tion of Prelacy. She was allied to some of the best families in the kingdom by the mother; but, what was their far greater glory, both of them, from their youth, were truly religious. His mother excelled many of her sex for knowledge of the principles of religion, and an uncommon memory of the Scrip- tures : she would have repeated exactly many of the choicest chapters of the Bible. They had a numer- ous family, no fewer than eleven children, and very sickly. All of them died young, except their eldest daughter Janet; and their son, Thomas. But, to sweeten these trials, they had peculiar comfort in the death of their children ; some, even of the young- est of them, gave singular evidences of their dying in the Lord.

When his father died, he was happy to be under the care of such a mother. The Episcopal perse- cution for nonconformity daily increasing, she, with her son-in-law and daughter, were forced for their

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safety to withdraw to Holland, and took him alone? with them while he was very young. He quickly learned the Dutch, and went to Erasmus' school to learn the Latin. There they remained till August 1687, when they returned home, narrowly escaping shipwreck.

At their return he went to school, and afterwards to the university, where he made great proficiency, beyond many of his equals. When he had finished his course there, he entered as chaplain to a noble family, where a person that had been his school- follow, and had drunk in the principles of the Deists, began to attack him on that subject, which obliged him, in the beginning of his studies, carefully to read that controversy; and what progress he made in this will appear from his book against the Deists. He could not attend lectures of divinity in any of our colleges, while in that family; and though he had read divinity only two years, the presbytery of Kirk- aldy importuned him to enter on trials^nd he was licensed by them to preach, June 22, 16f|9.

He was settled minister in Ceres parish, May 1, 1700.

In 1701, he was married to Janet Watson, a vir- tuous and pious gentlewoman, daughter to Mr. David Watson, an heritor in the parish of St. Andrews, a zealous good man, and one that suffered much for nonconformity.

Some few years after his settlement at Ceres, his health broke, and his indisposition daily increased, so that he was hardly able to go through his minis- terial duties in that large parish.

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In April 1710, having received a patent from her majesty, and an invitation from the presbytery, he was transferred by the synod of Fife, to St. An- drews, to be Professor of Divinity in the New College.

In September 23, 1712, at seven in the morning, he slept in Jesus ; " and him will the Lord bring with him."

He was of low stature; his body but thin and small ; his hair black, but his complexion pretty clear and fair.

In April 1711, a dangerous sickness seized hirn, which obliged the physicians, at several times, to take from him about forty-four ounces of blood. He recovered and went about again ; but his wasted body never attained the little strength he had before his sickness : shortly after, his arms and legs be- came a little benumbed and insensible, and also swelled, which at his death increased greatly. But O how noble a spirit, how great a soul, dwelt in his weak and frail body. — He was naturally of a plea- sant and agreeable temper. He had an equal and cheerful spirit, jvhich he retained under surprising vicissitudes. This evenness of temper appeared much in his frequent and dangerous sickness. He had a calm, peaceable, healing disposition, and yet bold as a Hon in his Master's cause. He had a pe- culiar talent for reconciling differences. How afflict- ing the prospect of divisions was to him, the following pages will testify : and had some others been blessed with more of this spirit, his and our fears would have been utterly disappointed. He was master of a

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considerable share of prudence : he studied to walk in wisdom towards them that are without, as well as them that are within, and to become all things to all men. He was dexterous in observing the tempers of men, and in addressing and managing them. How wisely he carried himself in church-judicatories, of which he was a member, others can witness. He abhorred that unedifying conversation, so common with many, that is spent in frequent and unseasonable jesting and drollery, though he was abundantly facetious in company, when and where he saw it expedient ; and in this way he sometimes dropped what tended to edify. Those who conversed with him most will own, they seldom enjoyed his company without de- riving some profit. He was often uneasy after much . converse with others, if he was not edified himself, or thought he did not edify others. How circum- spect and tender was the strain of his walk in this ! He often regretted the difficulty there was to retain integrity in most companies in this degenerate age : he reckoned such company a great hardship ; and he was loath to allow any thing offensive in conversation to go without a check.

The following Memoirs will witness how he walked with God in his family and closet. But some things 1 cannot pass here. It was his cus- tom, except he had been necessarily hindered, to come from his closet to family worship, especially if the Lord had given him enlargement of heart ; and if his spirit was in a due frame, he would then have been very uneasy, if any interruption occurred be- tween closet and family duties. He also commonly

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expounded the word of God, at least once a-day, in his family. The night before family, or national fasts, which he kept, he always directed his ser- vants how to manage that work; and on the fast- days themselves, discourses to them about their souls' condition and concerns. He was an affection- ate and dutiful husband, a conscientious and kind parent, a faithful and easy master. Such as knew him, will acknowledge he had a clear head, a very ready invention, and an uncommon memory. He read little after his health broke, and often acknowledged his greatest improvement was more by thinking than reading. He had a very ready way of expressing his thoughts; he was far from having a vain airy affectation of language in preaching, (a prevailing evil in this time;) he had studied an even, neat, and Scriptural style ; and this became natural ; though some thought, in the end, his deep thinking made it a little more abstruse than formerly to a popular audience. He had choice pulpit gifts ; he was an accurate and pathetic preacher, very textual, close in handling any truth he discoursed on, and, in the application, he was home, warm, and searching ; and in this he usually showed himself a skilful casuist. He often complained, that some worthy men were too general and bare in the application of their doc- trines. He generally wrote his sermons very ex- actly, when health and business would allow. He used to say, " A lazy minister in his younger years would make a poor old man." It were to be wished, that this example were more followed than it is. He often ventured to preach, even at sacraments,

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under great indisposition, when he was not able to write so much as the heads of his sermon; and he has been singularly assisted, to the conviction of all that heard him. In his last two years he wrote lit- tle, his health was so low. His experience of the power of godliness, with his other mentioned gifts, made him very skilful to deal with wounded spirits, according to the variety of their cases ; and this con- versation he owned was extremely useful to himself. Few ministers have taken a more cautious and con- firming way of dealing with people, than he did be- fore he admitted them to the sacrament; and, while in health, he was diligent in the other parts of his ministerial work. He was no less singularly fitted for the schools; he spoke elegant Latin with flu- ency, though he had been in the disuse of it. He was very expert in the Greek ; but his sickness hin- dered his design to accomplish himself in the rest of the oriental languages. In controversies, especially those of the time, he excelled many. It was strange to see how quickly he would have taken up the state of a controversy, the strength of an adversary, seen through their deceitful sophistry and pretences, and how close and nervous his reasoning usually was.

On the whole, what a loss, especially in that junc- ture, may we justly reckon the death of this great man to the poor wrestling church of Scotland, to the place he lived in, and to his family ! Alas ! what shall we say ? What great concern of heart may it cause, when such a green olive-tree, fair and of goodly fruit, is cut down; when such bright stars set, yea, even constellations of them in our day?

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May we not justly fear, when such wrestlers with God are taken away, as he on his death-bed com- ments on such damping providences, that " the con- sumption decreed shall overflow in righteousness ?"

MEMOIRS

REV. THOMAS HALYBURTGN

PART I.

INTRODUCTION. THE STATE OF MATTERS WITH

ME FROM THE TIME OF MY BIRTH, TILL I WAS ABOUT TEN YEARS OF AGE.

The common occurrences of the life of one in all respects so inconsiderable, are not worth recording; and, if recorded, could be of little use either to my- self or others. Therefore it is not my design to waste time or paper with these. But if I can re- count the Lord's gracious conduct towards me, the state of matters before and under the Lord's special dealings with me, in a way of conviction, illumina- tion, conversion, consolation, and edification, and present them so as to discover, not only the parts of this work, the several advances it made, the oppo- sition made to it, its victory over the opposition of my own heart, Satan, and the world, but also to present the work in its order and issue, it may be of

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great use to my own establishment; and if ever it should fall into the hands of any other Christian, it might not be useless, considering, that the work of the Lord in all is, as to the substance, the same and uniform : and " as face answers to face," in a glass, so does one Christian's experience answer another's, and both to the word.

This being the design of this narrative, to give some account of the Lord's work with me, and my way with him, so far as I remember it from my birth to this day, I shall proceed to it.

I came into this world, not only under the guilt of that offence, whereby many, nay, " all were made sinners," and on account of which " judgment pass- ed upon all men to condemnation ;" but, moreover, I brought with me a nature wholly corrupted, a heart " wholly set in me to do evil." Of this the testimony of God in his word satisfies me. And in this I am strongly confirmed by undoubted expe- rience, which fully convinces me, that from the morn- ing of my days, while under the advantage of gospel light, the inspection of godly parents, and not yet corrupted by custom, the imaginations of my heart, and the tenor of my life, were " evil, only evil, and that continually."

It cannot be expected, that, at so great a distance, I should remember the particulars of the first three or four years of my life : yet I may on the justest grounds presume, that they were filled up with those sins that cleave to children in their infancy. Many of which are not only evil, as they flow from a poi-

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soned root ; " for a corrupt tree will bring forth cor- rupt fruit ;" but do also bear the impress of, and an evident congruity to their corrupt source, and taste strong of that root of bitterness whereon they grow. While we are yet on the breasts, inbred corruption breaks forth ; and before we give any tolerable evi- dence that we are rational, we give full evidence that we are corrupted. We show that we are inclined to evil, by pressing with impatience and eagerness for what is hurtful; and our aversion to good, by re- fusing with the greatest obstinacy what is fit, pro- per, and useful to us. At first we are only em- ployed about sensible things; and about them we give the first evidences that our natures are corrupt. And with the first appearances of reason, the cor- ruption of our spirit discovers itself. How early do our actions discover passion, pride, revenge, dissimu- lation, and sensuality, to be inlaid, as it were, in our very constitution ! Any ordinary observer may discern instances innumerable of this sort, very early in children. With these, and the like evils, no doubt, were the first years of my life, of which I remember little, filled up : " Folly is bound up in the heart of a child" — " and we go aside as soon as born, speaking lies."

In this first period of my life, I had advantages above most. My parents were eminently religious. I was, for the most part, trained up under their eye and inspection. I continually heard the sound of divine truths ringing in my ears, in their instructions; and I had the beauty of the practice of religion con- tinually presented to mine eyes in their walk. I

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was by their care kept from ill company that might infect me. By these means, 1 was restrained from those grosser outbreaking that children often run into, and habituated to a form of religion, and put upon the performance of such outward duties of re- ligion as my years were capable of. Hence it ap- pears, and I now am fully convinced, that the sin I indulged in during this tract of time, is not to be im- puted, either as to inclination or actings, merely to contracted custom, or occasional temptations ; but it really was the genuine fruit and result of that la- mentable bias with which a man, since the fall, is born. Sure the spring must be within, when, not- withstanding all the care taken to keep me from them, I impetuously went on in sinful courses. The Holy Ghost hedged up my way by precepts, example, and discipline; but I broke through all. Surely the springs must be within; and they must be very strong that were able to bear down such powerful fences as were set in its way, by the provi- dence of God, and run with so full a stream, not- withstanding all outward occasions of its increase were, as much as might be, cut off. In this I have a full evidence of a heart naturally estranged from, nay opposite to the Lord : and besides, this deeply aggravates my guilt : " And they have turned unto me the back, and not the face; though I taught them, rising up early, and teaching them, yet they have not hearkened to receive instruction."

The care of my father during his life, which ended October 1682, and of my mother after his death, though very great, did not change, but only

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hide nature, which is indeed often hid, sometimes overcome, but seldom extinguished. Although I cannot remember all the particulars from the fourth or fifth year of my life, yet so far do I remember what the general bent of my heart was from that time. Upon a review, I must confess that it was wholly set against the Lord : " The carnal mind is enmity against God, and is not subject to the law of God, nor can it indeed be."

To confirm this, when I now survey the decalogue, and, notwithstanding the great distance, review this portion of my time, I do distinctly remember, and, were it to edification, could condescend upon particu- lar instances of the opposition of my heart to each of its precepts. Whatever influence education may have in moulding what is seen, yet surely " the imaginations of man's heart are evil from his youth up."

True it is, through the influence of the means be- fore mentioned, I did all this while abominate the more gross breaches of all the commands, and dis- like open sin. But meanwhile my heart was set upon the less discernible violations of God's holy law. My quarrel was not with sin, but the conse- quences of it ; and the main thing I regarded was the world's opinion of it. Fear of punishment, pride that fears to be ill-thought of, or, at best a natural conscience, enlightened by education, were the only springs of my performances of duty, or ab- stinence from sin. Prone I was all this while to sin, even of all sorts to which that age has a ten- dency, in secret, when I could say, that " no eye

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shall see me." They who for credit, or such other inducements, may seem averse to sin, yet will make bold in the dark with the worst sins : " Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel do in the dark, every man in the chambers of his imagery? For they say, the Lord seeth us not; the Lord hath forsaken the earth."

Even those things which in my way seemed good and promising, such as a detestation of gross sins, performance of duties, &c. were either purely the effects of the force of custom, a bribe to a natural conscience to hold its peace, a sacrifice to self, a slav- ish performance of what I took no delight in, to avoid the whip, or sometimes a charm to keep me from danger, which I thought would befal me, and dreaded much if I neglected prayer. Thus my best things dreadfully increased my guilt, being, like the apples of Sodom, fair to look at, promising while un- tried, but within, full of ashes and noisome matter. " When ye fasted and mourned in the fifth and seventh months, even these seventy years, did ye at all fast unto me? And when ye did eat, and when ye did drink, did ye not eat for yourselves ?" " Bring no more vain oblations ; incense is an abo- mination to me ; the new-moons and Sabbaths, the calling of assemblies, I cannot away with ; it is ini- quity, even the solemn meeting."

Thus the spring of corruption, restrained on the one side, I mean as to open profanity, by the mounds of education, breaks out on the other side in a form of religion, without, nay, plainly opposite to the power of it, which is no less hateful to the

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holy God. " The prayer of the wicked is sin ; his sacrifice is an abomination." Sin, in the one case, has a little varnish, that somewhat hides its deform- ity from the eyes of men ; in the other, it is seen in its native hue and colours. In the one case, it runs under ground; in the other, it openly follows its course. " Some men's sins are open before-hand, going before them into judgment, and others follow after." Whether the one or the other, the odds is not great: ff The tree is known by its fruit." " A corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit." Sometimes it may bring forth good-like fruit.

But yet, after all, I must confess that such was the strength of corruption, that it drove me to several of the more plain and gross sins incident to this age: which, though some account pardonable follies in children, yet the Lord makes another reckoning of them ; and some of them have been made bitter to me; such as, lying to avoid punishment, Sabbath- breaking, revenge, hatred of my reprovers, and others of a like nature. Some particular sins committed in childhood, which I had quite forgotten, as being attended with no notable circumstances that could make them be remembered, rather than any thing else I can remember, were brought fresh to my me- mory, when the Lord began closely to convince me, and being presented in their native colours, in the light of the Lord, and in all the circumstances of time, place, partners in sin, &c. and were made the matter of my deep humiliation, loathing and self-ab- horrence, as not only full of wickedness in them- selves, but pregnant evidences of the deepest natu-

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ral depravity. This made me see to whom it was owing, that I went not to all the heights in wicked- ness, and the grossest abominations to which ever any were carried; and to which a haughty heart, if not re- strained seasonably, partly by secret power, and partly by outward means, would inevitably have carried me : " Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, deeplv rooted, and fastened there*" And no thanks to the best, that they are kept from the worst things : " And David said to Abigail, Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, which sent thee this day to meet me : and blessed be thy advice, and blessed be thou, which hast kept me this dav from coming to shed blood, and from avenging myself with my own hand. For in very deed, as the Lord God of Israel liveth, which hath kept me back from hurting thee, except thou hadst hasted and come to meet me, surely there had not been left unto Nabal, by the morning light, any that pisseth against the wall." What a monster had I been, if left to myself, and not seasonably restrained by outward means, and inward power. Blessed be the invisible hand, and the outward instruments of this restraint, that kept me back from sinning.

These are but a very few of the innumerable evils that cleaved to me in this sinful period of my life : " For who can understand his errors ?" This pe- riod was altogether sinful and vain, nay, sin and va- nity in the abstract. " Childhood is vanity." And all this is deeply aggravated by my stupid unconcern about them all the while. Notwithstanding of them oil, " I was clean in mine own eyes, though not washed from my pollutions," in the mire whereof

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I had long wallowed. I was whole as to my own sense, though the plague sore run upon me. " While I thought I stood in need of nothing, I was poor, miserable, wretched, blind, and naked." " How canst thou say, I am not polluted, I have not gone after Baalim? See thy way in the valley, know what thou hast done, &c. I have not found it by secret search, but upon all these. Yet thou sayest, Because I am innocent, surely his anger shall turn from me. Behold, I will plead with thee, because thou sayest, I have not sinned."

Reflections on this First Period.

When I consider, how many sins long since done and forgotten, many of them of an older date than any thing else I remember, and in their commission attended with no such remarkable circumstances as can rationally be supposed to have made any deep impression on the memory, and so have any influence in recalling them, after so long oblivion, were now by the Lord brought to mind with unusual distinct- ness, I cannot but herein observe, 1. What exact notice the holy God takes, and how deeply he re- sents those things which men generally will scarce allow to be faults, or at most but small ones, pardon- able follies rather than sins. God early observed, that man's imaginations are evil from his youth, and will have us remember, and be humbled for the sins that have cleaved to us from our youth : " This hath been thy manner from thy youth, that thou obeyedst not my voice," is an aggravation of other D 11

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sins he charges on his people, and in itself one heavy article. 2. How much reason is there lor reckoning it as one great part of the wicked's misery, that " they lie down in their graves, with hones full of the sins of youth?" How much reason is there for David's prayer, that God may not tS remember against him the sins of his youth ?" How just rea- son have we oft, with Job, to suspect, that in the strokes that fall on us in riper years, God is visiting us for the iniquities of our youth ? How much rea- son have we, with holy Augustin, to confess and mourn over the sins of childhood, and trace original corruption, in its first outbreaking;;, even up to in- fancy ? 3.1 here observe what an exact register conscience, God's deputy,, keeps; .how early it begins to mark; how accurate it is, even when it seems to take no notice : and to what a length it will go in justifying God's severity against sinners at the last day ; how distinctly and clearly it will read it out, and how far up it will fetch its accounts of those evils which we mind nothing of, when God shall open its eyes to read what is written, and discern those prints which, as Job says, " God sets upon the heels of our feet," and gives it a commission to tell us of them, when the " books shall be opened, and the dead, small and great, shall be judged out of them."

When I review this first period of my life, what reason do I see to be ashamed, and even con- founded, to think that I have spent ten years of a •short life, without almost a rational thought, and undoubtedly any that was not sinful : " After that I was instructed, I smote upon my thigh ; I was

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ashamed, yea, even confounded, because I did bear the reproach of my youth."

The whole of what I have set down before, being matter of undoubted experience, of which I caft no more doubt than of what I now see and feel, I have herein a strong confirmation of my faith, as to the guilt of Adam's sin, its imputation to his posterity, and of my concern therein in particular. For, 1. The bant of my soul, from a child, was set against the Lord : nor was this the effect of custom and edu- cation ; for there was a sweet conspiracy of precept, discipline, and example, in those with whom I con- verged, during this part of my life, to carry me ano- ther way. Nor call I charge the fault of this on my constitution of body, or any such thing, as might be alleged to proceed from my parents in a natural way. For those lusts which are " of the mind," and are not influenced by any constitution of body, were as strong, sensible, active, and prevalent, as any other, nay, more than those which may be pre- tended to depend on the frame of the body. And as my soul, in its accursed inclinations, was thus op- posite to the Lord, so as the opposition was of that strength and force, as was not to be suppressed, much less to be overcome and subdued, by the ut- most care of parents, and the best outward means. This is undoubted fact. 2. I cannot at all conceive it consistent with the wisdom, goodness, or equity of God, to send me thus into the world, without any fault on my part. To say 1 was thus originally framed without respect to any sin chargeable on d 2

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me, is a position so entirely contrary to all the no- tions I can entertain of the Deity, that I cannot think of it without horror, much less can I believe and give assent to it. 3. Penal, then, this corrup- tion must be, as death and diseases are. And of what can it be a punishment, if not of Adam's sin ? While those things are so plain in fact, and the de- duction from them so easy, whatever subtle argu- ments any may use to overthrow this truth, I have no reason to be much shaken or moved with them, or call the truth in question. If once I am sure, that God hath done a thing, there is no room left for disputing its equity. I am sure, I was corrupt from my infancy. I am sure, God could not have made me so without cause, or sent me into the work! in such a case, if it had not been for some fauh wherein I am concerned. If there is any attempt to charge God on this account, I look upon it as highly injurious. There is nothing left for me in this case, but humbly to endeavour to clear God of any seeming hardship. If we cannot easily do this, then I will much rather acknowledge my ignorance, and stoop under his incomprehensibility, than lay any charge of injustice against him. This has up- held mv soul against the most subtle arwuings of

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men of perverse minds, and even of Satan, who hath oft assaulted me in this matter. Be their argu- ments what the)- will, " Behold, in this they are not just: I will answer thee, that God is greater than man. Why dost thou strive against him ? For he <riveth not account of his matters. That he mav

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withdraw man from this, (among other evil purposes, of measuring God by his short line,) and hide pride from his eye."

Hence, also, I am taught what estimate to make of the pretendedly good and virtuous inclinations with which some are, by Deists and Pelagians, al- leged to be born. If it be not in those few and rare instances of the early efficacy of sanctifying grace, all that which is looked on as good is really no more but the fruit of education, custom, occasional re- straints, freedom from temptation, or perhaps a natural temper, influenced by some of those, and by the constitution of the body, to somewhat of opposition to those grosser actings of sin, which make the most noise in the world. In a word, what- ever there is of this, except in the rare instances before mentioned, is but sin under a disguise. The difference is not great. The one sort of sinners seem to promise good fruit, but deceive; whereas the openly profane give a plain refusal, and forbid expectations. And yet of this last sort more receive the gospel than of the former: " But what think ye ? A certain man had two sons ; and he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day in my vineyard. He answered and said, I will not : but afterward he repented, and went. And he came to the second, and said likewise. And he answered and said, I go, Sir; and went not. Whether of them twain did the will of his father ? They say unto him, The first. Jesus saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and the harlots go into the kingdom of God before you."

• IJA PART II.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE RISE, PROGRESS, INTERRUP-

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tions, revivals, and issues, of the lords strivings with me, during the ten or ele- ven ensuing years of my life, from may, 1685, to august, 1696.

CHAPTER I.

An Account of the first rise of my Concern about Religion, its Results, Revivals, and other occur- rences relating thereto, for the first two years of

this time.

I

In the month of May 1685, my mother being bv the heat of the persecution, obliged to retire to Holland, 1 went alonq- with her. While we were at sea, being in some real or apprehended danger, my conscience, which had for all the bv-past ten years, so far as I can now remember, been fast asleep, began to awaken. I was convinced of sin, terri- fled with the apprehensions of hell and death, and the wrath of (rod, which, before 1 was brought to this distress, I had no thought about : " They have turned their back unto me, and not their face ; but in the time of their trouble they shall say, Arise, and save us."

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All this concern was nothing more than a sad mixture of natural fear, and a selfish desire of pre- servation from the danger that was, at least bv me, supposed imminent. Peace, acceptance, com- munion with God, came not much into my thoughts. I was afraid and unwilling to die. I would gladly have been out of danger of hell. This was all my exercise at this time. It was not sin, but death its consequence, I was concerned to be rid of: " Then Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron in haste, and said, I have sinned against the Lord your God. Now, therefore, I pray thee, forgive my sin only this once, and entreat the Lord your God, that he may take away from me this death only."

As this exercise was wholly selfish, without any concern for the Lord's glory, so it led me to selfish courses for relief. I promised, that, were I at land, I would live and be better than formerly : I engaged to keep all God's commands. My mother told me, I was in a mistake, and would not hold there. But of this, there was no persuading one so ignorant of his own heart, as I at this time was. I multiplied engagements, and doubted not myself as to the per- formance: " And the people answered, God forbid that we should forsake the Lord, to serve other gods. And Joshua said unto the people, Ye can- not serve the Lord ; for he is an holy God. And the people said unto Joshua, Nay, but we will serve the Lord."

No sooner was I come to land, and fixed at Rot- terdam, than I verified what had been foretold. I forgot all my promises and resolutions. The un-

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renewed and corrupt heart being free from the re- straint put upon it by the natural conscience, undej appearance of hazard, took its old course. I re- turned to former evils, and grew worse. Corrup- tion, that had been confined for a little, having easily forced down all these mounds raised to hold it in, run with the greater violence. It is true, through the mercy of God, I was still restrained from open scandalous sins ; towards which the awe of my godly and prudent mother, and the principles of education contributed not a little. But as to secret evils of all sorts, I had no aversion to them ; nay, to many of them I was strongly inclined, and in many instances followed my own inclinations. I was a ready and easy prey to every temptation, notwith- standing all my engagements : " And thou saidest, I will not transgress, when upon every high hill, and under every green tree, thou wanderest, play- ing the harlot."

My sins, in this place, had this grievous aggra- vation, that they were against greater light, and more of the means of grace, than I had formerly enjoyed. On the Lord's day, we had three ser- mons and two lectures in the Scots church ; on Thursday, a sermon there likewise. On Tuesday, one of the suffering ministers by turns preached. There was a meeting for prayer on Wednesday. On Monday and Friday nights, Mr. James Kirkton commonly lectured in his family. On Saturday, he catechised the children of the Scots sufferers who came to him. My mother took care to make me attend most of these occasions; was careful to keep

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me to duty, was not wanting in advice, correction, prayer with and for me ; she obliged me to read the Scriptures and other edifying books. But so far were all these from having a due effect on me, that I was weary of them, and went on in sin : " What could have been done more (namely, in point of outward means) to my vineyard, that I have not done? Wherefore, when I looked that it should have brought forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes ? Ye said also, (namely, of the Lord's service.) What a weariness is in it ! And ye have snuffed at it, saith the Lord of hosts. And ye brought that which was torn, and the lame and the sick; thus ye have brought an offering. Should I accept this of your hand, saith the Lord ?"

At this time, I wanted not frequent convictions, occasioned sometimes by the preaching of the word, and at other seasons by the light of my education, which still adhered to me, and was a check upon me. But all these were only like the starts of a sleeping man, occasioned by some sudden noise : up he gets, but presently he is down, and faster asleep than be- fore. I found means to get rid of these convictions. 1. I would, when they were uneasy, promise them a hearing afterwards : " And as Paul reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way, and when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." 2. At other seasons, I looked to the ten- dency of them, that they aimed at engaging me to be holy, and then I pored upon the difficulties of that course, till I not only got the edge of my con- d3

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victions blunted, but frightened myself from a com- pliance : " The sluggard saith. There is a lion in the way, and I shall be slain in the streets." 3. When convictions were lighter, I got rid of them by withdrawing from the means : " If a man be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass : for he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straight- way forgetteth what manner of man he was." 4. Sometimes I promised them fair, and so put them off at that time, but minded it not afterward : " And he said to the second likewise, and he answered, I go, Sir, and went not." 5. Sometimes they issued in fruitless, inactive, and slothful wishes : " The soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing. The desire of the slothful killeth him ; for his hands refuse to labour." 6. At other times, when they were troublesome, I turned mine eye to something which I thought good in my conduct, though, the Lord knows, little was there that had so much as any tolerable appearance of good. Yet so foolish was I, that I rested here, as if this had not been only enough to atone for the past, but to procure good at God's hand: " Two men went up into the temple to pray, the one a Pharisee, the other a Pub- lican. The Pharisee stood and prayed with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this Pub- lican," &c. 7. Sometimes I endeavoured to di- minish my sin as much as I could: " In all my la- bours, they shall find no iniquity in me that were sin." 8 When these shifts failed, and they were

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still uneasy, I then betook myself to diversions, and they choked the word and convictions arising from it : " And that which fell among the thorns are they, which, when they have heard, go forth, and are choked with cares, and riches, and pleasures of this life, and bring no fruit to perfection."

About this time, I met with some things that crossed me. Upon which I turned thoughtful, how to rid myself of these difficulties. I seemed more than ordinarily concerned, and my spirit was much troubled ; yet really this strait led me not to God. But my thoughts were spent in resentments against the real or supposed authors of my uneasiness, in proud, selfish, and vain contrivances, for mine own ease and relief: " The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God : God is not in all his thoughts. — They cry out by reason of the arm of the mighty; but none saith, Where is God my Maker, who giveth songs in the night ? — And thou didst look in that day, to the armour of the house of the forest, &c. But ye have not looked unto the Maker thereof, neither had respect to him that fashioned it long ago."

About the month of December 1686, at the earnest desire of my father's sister, who was married to John Glass, provost of Perth, I was sent home. While I staid in his family, I saw nothing of religion, though my aunt was a very moral woman. Here I was much indulged. I got liberty, and I took it. I saw little of the worship of God, and I easily com- plied and turned remiss too. What further ad- vances toward an open rejection of the very form of

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religion I made in this place, I do not now, at this distance, distinctly remember ; but no doubt they were great. This I do remember, that I found my aversion to these sins, which, through the influence of education, I abominated before, sensibly weak- ened. Yea, I found some secret hankering after some of them, a delight in those who were guilty, and a sort of approbation of them in my heart. Yet still I was, in a great measure, restrained from an avowed practical compliance, by the awful impres- sions early instruction had left on my mind, which were not as yet wholly worn off; though they were far decayed, considering the shortness of my stay, by which I may easily discern what had become of them, if I had staid longer there. Further, I re- member, that at that time, I had a great aversion to learning, which was the only good thing that in this place was urged on me. I looked on it as a burden and drudgery, to which the basest employ- ments were to be preferred, and hence I in no way set my heart to it ; but trifled away my time. And many a sinful shift did I betake myself to, that I might get the time shuffled over : " Thus I hated instruction, and cast God's word behind my back. When thou sawest a thief, thou consentedst with him, and hast been partaker with adulterers. These things hast thou done, and I kept silence; thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an one as thy- self."

Thus I spent the winter. In the spring of 1687, my mother fearing that I might be ensnared with the company I was now amongst, came home for me, as

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remembering the wise man's observation, " The rod and reproof give wisdom ; but a child left to him- self, bringeth his mother to shame." But so great was my wickedness, that in spite of natural affection, I was grieved at her return; it damped me when first I heard her voice, and I cared not to see her. Nothing I disliked more than a godly and affection- ate mother's converse. I feared to be questioned as to my past conduct. I feared she would carry me away back to Holland, where I would be put under uneasy restraints from my sinful liberty: " But thou saidst, There is no hope. No, for I have loved strangers, and after them will I go."

In the spring, or towards summer, my mother carried me with her, much against my will, and put me to Erasmus' school. I staid but a short while there. But by the advantageous method of teaching taken with me, I began to delight in learn- ing, and quickly turned proud of my success. But otherwise, I lived as I had done before, becoming still worse and worse, under all the means God made use of to bring me near, and keep me close to him : " As the girdle cleaveth to the loins of a man, so have I caused to cleave unto me the whole house of Israel, and the whole house of Judah; that they might be unto me for a people, and for a name, and for a praise, and for a glory; bxit they would not hear."

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CHAPTER II.

An Account of the Revival of Convictions, their Effects, Progress, Issues, and Interruptions, from the close of 1687 to 1690, or 1691, when I tvent from Perth to stay at Edinburgh.

In the month of February, 1687, King James issued his proclamations for indulgence, after which most of those who had fled ventured home ; and my mother amongst others, toward August or Septem- ber that year. It had been for my advantage, pro- bably, for my education, to have staid here, which made me unwilling to return. In our return, we were in imminent danger of shipwreck, on the scars of England ; but by the mercy of God we escaped. The danger was sudden, and suddenly over, and so left little or no impression on me. When we came home, we fixed our residence at Perth, and abode there till harvest 1690, or 1691, I cannot be positive which. What was my state as to my soul concerns during this time, so far as I remember, I shall here narrate.

Presently upon our settlement in this place, I was entered to school, and made some better pro- ficiency than before. But as to religion, I continued as unconcerned as ever, as intent upon sin, as averse to duty as formerly. However, I behaved under my mother's eye, but when I was among my comrades I took my liberty, and went with them into all the

follies and extravagances they went into ; with this aggravation above most of them, that what I did I very often knew to be a fault; whereas they, at least many of them, did not. Yea, I not only went along with them, but was foremost, and enticed others to folly. Yet still, through the mercy of God, I kept from openly scandalous evils, save once, that I re- member, I was seized in a garden, with some other boys, taking some fruit. Of this I was much ashamed, and never attempted the like again, not from any real dislike of the sin, but the fears of a discovery. And thus I continued, till towards the close of King James' reign, when fears of a massacre, or some sudden stroke from the Papists, of which there was a great noise every where, revived my concern about religion : " But when he slew them, then they sought him ; and they returned and in- quired early after God: and they remembered that God was their Rock, and the High God their Re- deemer."

This concern being somewhat deeper, and the effects of it more remarkable and lasting, I shall endeavour to give a distinct account of it. About this time, the Lord, by the means 1 lived under, the preaching of the word, catechising in public and private, enlightened my mind further in the notional knowledge of the law and gospel. My capacity growing with my years, and knowledge of what was sin, and what was duty, and what the fearful conse- quences of sin were, and the advantage of duty in- creasing; sin was left open and naked without the excuse of ignorance, and conscience had a farther

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advantage, being armed with more knowledge, and better informed ; by which its checks, when now by the Lord's providences it was in some measure awakened, were more frequent and sharp, and not so easily to be evaded : " If I had not come and spoken to them, they had not had sin, but now they have no cloak for their sin."

Some touches of sickness riveted on me the im- pressions of mortality and frailty, and the tendency of each of those numerous train of diseases, by which we are daily exposed to death : in which 1 was brought into, and kept under continual " bondage through fears of death."

But that which, above all, most deeply affected me, and jjave an edge to convictions, was the continual fear we were in, of being suddenly destroyed by the Papists. This kept death in its most terrible shape, ever in mine eyes and thoughts ; and, to my great terror, I saw wrath and judgment following it. " The sinners in Zion are afraid, fearfulness has surprised the hypocrites : Who amongst us shall dwell with devouring fire ? Who amongst us shall dwell with everlasting burnings ?"

By this I was cast into grievous disquietude : " I took counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily." I was in a dreadful strait betwixt two. On the one hand my convictions of sin were sharp, fears of a present death and judgment quickened them. This made me attend more to the word; the more I attended to it, they increased the more ; and I was daily persuaded, more and more, that there was no way to be rid of them, but by turning religious. On

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the other hand, if I should engage in earnest in re- ligion, then I saw the hazard of suffering for it, and wist not but I might be called immediately to die for it ; and this I could not think of doing. Betwixt the two, I was dreadfully distressed in my mind; some nights sleep went from mine eyes, and I was full of trouble. I set my imagination to work, and some- times strongly impressed myself with the fancy of an Irish cut-throat, holding a dagger to my breast, and offering me these terms, " Quit your religion, turn Papist, and you shall live : Hold it, and you are dead." The imagination was sometimes so strong, that I have almost fainted with it, and still I was dreadfully unresolved what to do ; sometimes I would let him give the fatal stroke ; hut on this my spirits shrunk, and my heart failed at the apprehension of death. At other times, I resolved to quit my reli- gion, but with a resolution to take it up again, when the danger was over ; but here I could get no rest. What, thought I, if the treacherous enemy destroy me after I have done it, and thus I lose both life and religion ? And what if I die before the danger is over, and so time be not allowed me to repent ? " Ephraim is as a silly dove, without a heart : they call to Egypt, and they go to Assyria."

This sort of exercise frequently recurred, and I ever continued in this way at times, till after the battle of Killiecrankie, which was fought July 27, 1689. It had some interruptions, and then I was as remiss as before ; but for near a year, few weeks, and frequently few days or nights passed over me, without some such exercise : but the fears of the

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Papists being quickly over, my remaining difficulty was only with my convictions. Now, as to these, i endeavoured to relieve myself: 1. By promises of abstaining from those sins which were most directlv contrary to my knowledge, and of which I was most plainly convinced : " And Pharaoh called for Moses and Aaron, and said, Entreat the Lord for me, and I will let the people go." 2. I took sanctuary in resolutions of inquiring into the Lord's mind, and complying with it. But when I consulted any prac- tical book, or the ministry of the word, and found them not to give such directions as agreed with my unrenewed heart, I was grieved, and stuck there : " And, behold, one came to him, and said unto liim, Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life ? Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me. But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful; for he had great possessions." 3. I thought to find peace in a more careful attendance upon duties : " Thus being ignorant of God's righteousness, and froin;'- about to establish mine own righteousness, 1 submitted not myself unto the righteousness of God, (nor showed I any regard to Christ,) who is the end of the law for righteousness, to every one that be- lieveth."

Though my foolish heart ran to those courses, yet really they afforded no solid repose: For, 1. The first sin against light, and the first omission of duty, which very speedily ensued upon the intermission of

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the restraint that present conviction put on me, shook all. And I was confounded at the thought of ap- pearing before God, in a righteousness so plainly ragged, that where it had one piece, it wanted two.

2. Though these ways gave some ease, while trials were at a distance ; yet when the thoughts of death came near, I found no quiet in them. This was not gold tried in the fire, nor would it abide so much as a near-hand view of a trial; but at the very ap- pearance of a storm, this sandy foundation shook.

3. Whenever convictions were awakened as to new sins, convictions for old ones also recurred, which showed that the cure was not perfect.*' " Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks : walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand; ye shall lie down in sorrow."

The effects of this exercise that remained and in- creased afterwards, were principally these three: — ~1. I was brought into a doubt about the truths of reli- gion, the being of a God, and things eternal. This hesitation was not from any arguments that offered themselves against these truths ; or from any suspi- cion of ministers, parents, or others, from whom I had received them ; but merely from this, that when- ever, in danger or straits, I would build on them, a suspicion secretly haunted me, What if the things are not? Whence I was brought to think that I had not certainty and evidence about them, answerable to

♦ Consider Heb. x. 2, 3. Where conscience of sin remains after the use of means, it argues their weakness. "

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the weight that was to be laid on them. I thought death, and the trouble attending it, were certain and sensible things; but I could not get my mind so satisfied, and fully assured upon the truths of reli- gion. Still, when under apprehensions of death, 1 would have taken rest in the truths of religion, the persuasion failed me, and my mind began to waver; though I could give no reason of this : " The way of the wicked is as darkness : they know not at what they stumble." 2. I was hereby persuaded, and this persuasion ever after increased in strength, that I could never have peace, till 1 came to another sort of evidence and certainty about the truths of religion, than I was yet acquainted with. Death I saw ine- vitable, it might be very sudden ; I was capable of being impressed with the forethoughts of it, and could not banish them. Therefore, concluded I, un- less I obtain such a conviction of religion, and such an interest in it, as will make me not only look at death without fear, but go through with comfort, " better for me I had never been;" but how or where this was to be obtained, I was utterly uncertain. Here I lay in great perplexity, under the melancholy impression, that I had hitherto " spent my money for that which is not bread, and my labour for that which profiteth not." 3. This perplexity was some- what relieved, while one day or other reading in the close of the Fulfilling of the Scriptures, how Mr. Robert Bruce was shaken about the being of a God, and how at length he came to the fullest satisfaction; by which a hope secretly sprung up, that one time or other, and in one way or other, the like might be-

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fal me, and that the Lord might satisfy me in this. Here was the dawning of a light, that, though for long it did not fully clear up, yet was never put wholly out again ; though it was far from satisfying, yet it kept me from despair, as to the issue : " And he took the blind man by the hand, and led him out of the town ; and when he had spit on his eyes, and put his hands on him, he asked him if he saw ought. And he looked up, and said, I see men as trees walk- ing." But, notwithstanding all this, " the veil still remained untaken away."

About this time, one Mr. Donaldson, a reverend old minister, preached at Perth, and coming to visit my mother, he called for me; and, among other questions, he asked me if I sought a blessing on my learning ? To which I ingenuously answered, No. He replied with an austere look, " Sirrah, unsanc- tified learning has done much mischief to the kirk of God." This saying stuck to me ever after, and left a deep impression on me ; so that whenever I was any way straitened, I applied to God by prayer, for help in my learning, and pardon for not seeking his blessing. But this was only when more than ordi- narily difficulted.

But as to my general disposition, all this exer- cise left me where I was before, afar off from God, and " an enemy to him in my mind, which I evi- denced by wicked works."

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■

CHAPTER III.

An Account of the Increase of my Convictions, dur- ing my stay at Edinburgh, from harvest 1690, or 1691, till May 1693, and the vain Refuges to which I took myself for Relief

My mother designing to have me well educated, for the advantage of better schools, she removed to Edinburgh, in harvest 1690, or 1691, and fixed me at Mr. Gavin Weir's school, where I staid (except orJy for the space of some months that I abode in Carlop's family, and was educated with his children and some others, by one who had been an under teacher to Mr. Weir, and after his removal taught a few privately) till November 1692, when I entered the college, under Mr. Alexander Cunningham. Here it was my mercy, that I became acquainted with sober comrades, and bookishly inclined. But this it is not my design to narrate : and therefore I proceed to observe the steps of the Lord's work with me as to my soul.

While I abode here, the Lord gave not over his dealings with me : " About the time of forty years, suffered he their manners in the wilderness." Long also did he bear with my manners. In this place the work went on. For, 1. As knowledge in- creased, so convictions increased, if not in force, yet in number; still, as knowledge of the law grew, which it daily did under the means of grace, the

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knowledge of sin also grew : " For bv the law is the knowledge of sin." The Lord daily let me see, that he was wrath on account of sins that formerly I had not noticed : " These things thou hast done, and I kept silence : thou thoughtest I was such an one as thyself; but 1 will reprove thee, and set thy sins in order before thee." 2. By new afflictions, the impressions of my mortality were riveted, and I was still the further in bondage, through the crowing tears of death. 3. The word being daily preached, and dailv meeting with me, forced me, though an- willing, to make some inquiry into my sincerity in religion, of which I now made some profession. A close word Mill at length even bring a Judas to say, " Master, is it I?" 4. The means of grace, to save some bosom-idol;-, engaged me, like Herod, " to do many things, and hear the word gladly."

The means by which these effects were wrought, M7ere, 1. The preaching of the word. " By the two-edged sword that goes out of his mouth," the Lord did oft wound me, and the secrets of my heart were made manifest. I found " the word a discerner of the thoughts of the heart and its in- tents." 2. The Lord made use of the rod. He laid his hand on me. When I was well and in health, the word did not affect me so much, nor did I attend to it so carefully : " 1 spake unto thee in thy prosperity, and thou wouldest not hear : This has been thy manner from thy youth, and thou obeyedst not the voice of the Lord." " In their af- fliction they will seek me early." " If they be bound in fetters, and be holden in cords of affliction, then

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he showeth unto them their work, and their trans- gressions that they have exceeded." 3. I read Shep- herd's Treatise, called the Sincere Convert, which galled me, and cut me to the quick : it came very close home to me, and affected me very much, and put me to question deeply my sincerity.

By these means, I was driven sometimes to great extremity, and carried the length of a form of reli- gion. I prayed, not only evening and morning, but at some other times retired, and would weep plenti- fully in secret, and read, and prayed, and resolved to live otherwise than I had done. " But this goodness was as the morning cloud, and the early dew." It kept pace with my convictions. It was force, not nature; and this strictness lasted no longer than the force that occasioned it did : " And Joash did that which was right in the sight of the Lord, all the days of Jehoiada the priest. — But Je- hoiada waxed old,, and died. — Now, after the death of Jehoiada, came the princes of Judah, and made obeisance to the king ; and the king hearkened unto them. And they left the house of the Lord God of their fathers, and served groves and idols."

While I was under these distresses, many a wicked shift did I betake myself to for relief, though without effect : " When Ephraim saw his sickness, and Judah saw his wound, then went Ephraim to the Assyrian, and sent unto King Jareb; yet could he not heal you, nor cure you of your wound." When searching marks were offered from the word, which tended to discover my haughtiness, or when I read them in books; 1. If any thing was spoken

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or mentioned, that did in appearance make for me, then I greedily catched at that; for I was very un- willing to see my own hypocrisy, and therefore, if I had but a show to found my claim, I laid hold on what was offered, like the young man, when Christ spoke of keeping the commandments, he answered, being unacquainted with the spiritual extent of the law, " All these things have I kept from my youth, what lack 1 yet?" So said I. 2. When I found something required, that I neither had, nor resolved to comply with, because perhaps it was on some ac- count or other dear, then I resolved to compound the matter, and make amends some other way, and beg a license for that, like Naaman : " Thy servant will henceforth offer neither burnt-offering, nor sa- crifice, unto other gods, but unto the Lord. In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to wor- ship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and I bow myself down in the house of Rimmon." 3. When any mark was offered, that I could not evade, nor pretend to, then I was ready to question, whether he that offered it were not mistaken, " and secretly questioned the truth ;" following the measures Satan took with Eve, " Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden." And again, " Ye shall not surely die." 4. When I could not see, not through the want of sufficient light, but through my unwillingness to admit it, I was ready to quar- rel that ministers and books did not tell me plain- ly: " Then came the Jews round about him, and said unto him, How long dost thou make us to E 11

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doubt ? If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly. Je- sus answered them, I told you, and ye believed not."

5. Sometimes, when I was gravelled with a mark, I promised it a hearing at a more convenient season ; and thus, like Felix, shifted the trouble for the time.

6. Sometimes I would slip over these things that made against me: " He that doth evil, cometh not to the light, because his deeds are evil, lest they should be reproved." 7. I carefully sought for the lowest marks, and the least degrees of grace that might be saving. I wanted only as much religion as would take me to heaven ; and therefore I still inquired, with the young man, " What good thing shall I do, that I may inherit eternal life ?" I de- sired no more than would do this, serve this turn ; and any thing that would serve this, provided my beloved lusts were spared, I would with him resolve upon. 8. When none of these shifts would avail iu the general, I would resolve upon doing any thing that the Lord required, like him that said, " Mas- ter, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest." But then, with him, I still retracted when the Lord told me, as he often did, of particulars he would try me in, which were contrary to my inclination. 9. When I saw I behoved to quit these of which the Lord often convinced me, then I becked a little respite or delay, and I would comply; " Augustin- like, I was content to be holy, but not yet." And another also said, " Lord, I will follow thee, but let me first go bid them farewell, which are at home at my house. And Jesns said, No man having put liis hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for

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the kingdom of God." An excuse, a delay in God's account, is a plain refusal; for all commands and invitations, require present obedience : " Now is .the accepted time. Now is the day of salvation." And " to-day, if you will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." 10. After all ways were tried, I found no relief. I blamed my education. I knew there was some change; my question was, whether it were the right one. Now, thought I, if I had not been religiously educated, but had turned all at once, it would have been more easily discernible. Thus 1 was entangled in my own ways : " We wait for light, but behold obscurity; for brightness, but we walk in darkness. We grope for the wall, like the blind, and we grope as if we had no eyes : we stumble at noon-day as in the night; we are in deso- late places as dead men." The true reason of my difficulty was, I was scorning, and not really desi- rous of light, unless it had been to my mind: " They know not, neither will they understand; they walk on in darkness." " The scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not." Many other deceits and shifts my heart used, which now, at so great a distance, I cannot remember. But these are the principal which occur upon reflection ; and in them how evident is it, that If the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who knows, or can know it ?" Though now I seemed sometimes to have gone far, yet really I was wholly wrong: For, 1. All this while being convinced of the necessity of a righte- ousness, but ignorant of Christ, Ci I sought it by the works of the law." 2. " The carnal mind, that E 2

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is enmity against God, and is not subject to the law of God," still continued. 3. All my exercise was only a tossing between light and love of sin : and sin still carried it ; for my bosom-idols I would by no means part with. 4. Self was the animating principle of any form of religion that I had. So much of it, as would save me from hell, or take me to heaven, and no more I desired. 5. All this re- ligion came and went with the occasions mentioned. It was not abiding-.

7. Providentially, about this time, Clark's Mar- tyrology was put into my hand. I loved history, and read it greedily; and some impressions it left on me, that wanted not their own use at that time and afterwards : 1. The patience, joy and courage of the martyrs, persuaded me, that there was a power, a reality in religion, beyond the power of mere na- ture. 2. I was convinced that I was a stranger as yet to this, because I could not think of suffering. 3. I was brought to some faint desires after acquaint- ance with this power of religion : " Then Nebu- chadnezzar spake, and said, Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. There is no other God that can deliver after this sort." Oft was I, in reading this book, at Balaam's wish, " Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." But, like him, I loved not their life.

I observe, that at this time, 1. God restrained me, by my bodily infirmity, a trouble in my joints, which made me unable to go, from many follies others run into, and I was much inclined to. Thus he hedged in my way, that I should not find my lovers.

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2. The Lord in mercy provided me comrades, that were tender of me, and took care of me. He fed me, and led me, though " I knew him not." 3. So far was I from being thankful, that my proud heart fretted, that I was kept from those things others fol- lowed. I would have been at rejoicing in my strength ; and vexed I was, that I had an occasion of glorying cut off. And I was not thankful, either for the Lord's cutting off by this means many occasions of sin ; nor for his mercy in providing persons to take care of me. O what reason have I to say, " The Lord is good to the unthankful and evil !"

CHAPTER IV.

An Account of the Progress of the Lord's Work, the Straits J was reduced to, and the Courses I took for Relief, from May, 1693, when I left Edin- burgh, till I went to the family of Wemyss, August 1696.

The air agreeing neither with my mother nor me, she was advised, and at length resolved, to leave Edinburgh, and go to St. Andrews, a place more wholesome, and more convenient for my education, to which she always had a special regard. Here I cannot but observe, the remarkable kindness of the Lord, in guiding me, though I then took no notice of it : "I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God beside me : I girded thee, though

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thou hast not known me." 1. At a time when mv heart inclined me most to folly, and bv my entering into the college, 1 was exposed to many temptations to it, the Lord seasonably laid his hand on me, and visited me with trouble, that was a mean to restrain me, and keep me from contracting any intimacy with those whose converse might have proved prejudicial to me, and to engage me to choose sober comrades : " Thou shalt also consider in thine heart, that as a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord thy God chasteneth thee." Again, 2. This indisposition, during the first two months of my stay at the college, being only in my joints, did not hinder, but further my studies ; and the Lord provided one, who, though a stranger, and under no special obligations, yet attended me as close as if he had been my servant, and was as tender of me as if he had been my brother. During this time, I made a greater proficiency in the Latin tongue than ever I had formerly done ; the regent I was under being very skilful in teaching it, and attending very carefully. About this time lie fell ill, and was not capable to attend; and I fell ill, and was thereby obliged to remove to St. Andrews, which was much to my advantage. For I came under the care of Mr. Thomas Taylor, a man very capable, and very careful of, and kind to me. And the class I left was broke up, the regent continuing indisposed that vear, and falling next year into a frenzv. Thus the Lord chased me froirr place io place f. >r mv good, and everywhere provided in. ft'igndg : -• He found him in a desert laud, and in t!i< ! howling

wilderness: he led hi:.; about and instructed him; he

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kept him as the apple of his eye." But God's kindness in guiding me to places for my good, and keeping me from inconveniences, snares, and dan- gers, into which others fell, had no effect on, nor were they noticed by me : " Neither said they, Where is the Lord that brought us up out of the land of Egypt, that led us through the wilderness, through a land of deserts, and of pits, through a land of drought, and of the shadow of death. And I brought you into a plentiful country, to eat the fruit thereof, and the goodness : but when ye en- tered, ye denied my land, and made mine heritage an abomination."

When I settled at St. Andrews, the Lord left not his work and striving with me, but the same, sovereign grace that begun, went on with it : "I lifted up my hand unto them, to bring them out of the land of Egypt. But they rebelled against me, and would not hearken unto me. Then said I, I will pour out my fury upon them. But I wrought for my name's sake." " Not for your sakes do I this, saith the Lord God, be it known unto you : be ashamed and confounded for your ways, O house of Israel."

Here the Lord cast my lot under choice means of grace, the ministry of worthy Mr. Thomas For- rester. Under his searching ministry, the Lord began to give me some small discoveries of the more secret and spiritual evils of my heart, and carried me " into the secret chambers of imagery," to let me see what my heart did in the dark. 1. He opened mine eyes to discern somewhat of that world

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of pride that is in the heart, and the wickedness of it. Though I was somewhat convinced of my own weakness, when I had any difficulty more than ordi- nary before me, and would seek help from God, yet when I got through, I valued myself upon my acquittance. Of the wickedness and injustice of this, the Lord in some measure convinced me : " What hast thou, O man, that thou hast not re- ceived ? And if thou hast received, wherefore dost thou boast ?" 2. He convinced me of the wicked- ness of the straying of my heart after idols, especi- ally in the time of worship : " But as for them whose heart walked after the heart of their detestable things, and their abominations, I will recompense their ways upon their own heads, saith the Lord God." " For every one of the house of Israel, or of the stranger, which setteth up his idols in his heart, and putteth the stumbling-block of his ini- quity before his face, and cometh to a prophet to inquire of him concerning me, I the Lord will answer him by myself." I was made to see, in some mea- sure, the danger of offering such duties to him, who requireth us to " set our hearts" to what he speaks, and to " keep our foot when we come to the house of God. 3. I was likewise made to see somewhat of my trusting to my duties, and resting on the bare performance, inasmuch as I was not for the most challenged for unsuitable performance, but for the entire omission of them ; and with the Pharisee, I thought it enough, if I could say, that I did the duty. But now the Lord let me see, that more was required ; though with him I could say, " I

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fast twice a-week," the Lord convinced me, that he might answer, " When ye fasted, did ye at all fast unto me, even to me ?"

These, when added to former discoveries of guilt, gave frequently much disturbance, and cast me into racking perplexity and disquietude : but the dark- ness and enmity of my mind remaining, I still had recourse to wicked and vain courses for peace, such as these formerly mentioned ; but they afforded me little quiet. Like Pharaoh, I engaged to amend those things wherein formerly I had failed ; but with him I quickly broke, when the force that drove me to this was over. At last, finding no peace in any of these courses, I resolved to enter into solemn covenant with the Lord; and accordingly I wrote and subscribed a solemn covenant, whereby I bound myself to be for God, like Israel, when under the awful impressions of Sinai, and the dreadful appear- ance of God there ; I said, " All that the Lord our God shall say unto us, we will hear and do it :" and, like the Scribe that came to Christ, " Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou ffoest."

When I had once done this, then I concluded all was right : For, 1. I found a sort of a present peace. Amendment I thought sufficient atonement, and such an engagement I looked on as performance. I now said, " I have peace-offerings with me ; this day I have paid my vows." 2. I at this time found fre- quently an unusual sweetness in hearing the word ; especially in hearing Mr. Forrester lecture on Acts xiii. 43. on the Sabbath night. Here, as I re- ceived sometimes the most piercing convictions, so e 3

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I received " tastes of the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come." Thus, like the stony ground, " I heard the word, and anon with joy received it." 3. Common gifts increasing as light grew, I took them for special grace; and thus took up, with the foolish virgins, the lamp of a pro- fession without oil. I began to set up for a virgin too, and, like such, I began to be esteemed by some of them for that which really I was not, but only appeared to be.

But the merciful and good God would not suffer me to rest here : " Yet thou sayest, Because I am innocent, surely his anger shall turn from me. Be- hold, I will plead with thee, because thou sayest, I have not sinned. Why wentest thou about so much to change thy way ? Thou also shalt be ashamed of Egypt, as thou wast ashamed of Assyria. Yea, thou shalt go forth from him, and thine hands upon thine head: for the Lord hath rejected thy confi- dences, and thou shalt not prosper iu them." The Lord quickly let me see my mistake. For, 1. The imaginary peace that I had, by making this covenant, was quickly lost by breaking it. Corruption re- taining still its power, its locks not being yet cut, whenever a temptation offered, like Sampson, upon a cry of the Philistines being on him, it broke all those ties] with which I foolishly, like his deceived mist' gHt it bound. Like the children of

Israel at omai % I engaged fairly, and herein thought

* / .• . . m| : Nam!), ixxiii. tl

Sim

16. iitid

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all riffht: but when I came to Kibroth-hattaavah, which was the next station in their way through the wilderness, and a temptation fell in my way, I felt a murmuring, loathing the manna, and lusting after the flesh ; and this broke all, the Lord's wrath on this being afrech intimated against me, as it was against them on that occasion. 2. Not only, upon such breaches, met I with new convictions, but old ones were revived ; and by this I found former ac- counts still to be standing against me, which filled me with confusion and jealousies of these ways : fd For though thou wash thee with nitre, and take thee much soap, yet thine iniquity is marked before me, saith the Lord." The Lord insinuated some discoveries of the treachery of my engagements ; let me see how my heart was not sound, and how there were secret reserves in my engagements for some sins, from which my heart was not divorced ; though yet I remember, that at that time I made those engagements, when my heart put in for spar- ing these, my light forced me, as it were, for the present, though not without reluctance, to give them up, at least in words; but really I did not do it. Now, the Lord gave some intimations of this heart- treachery, which, when further discovered by the event, my covenant could not quiet me : " They have well spoken all that they have said. O that there were such a heart in them !" 4. The Lord let loose some corruptions, like the Canaanites, to try me, took off the restraints, and then, like water dammed in, they became more violent and trouble- some, and at length bore down all that I had set

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in their way. By these means, the Lord let me see the fruitlessness and vanity of this covenant, which, however specious-like, was indeed hut a co- venant with death. And, by the discovery, I was put into the utmost confusion, while the evil I thought I was provided against came upon me : " From the time that it goeth forth, it shall take you : for morn- ing by morning shall it pass over, by day and by night : and it shall be a vexation only to understand the report. For the bed is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it ; and the covering narrower than he can wrap himself in it." This I found veri- fied to my sad experience.

Notwithstanding the felt vanity of these legal, selfish, anti-evangelical courses, I still cleaved to them: Foj, 1. The peace I lost by breaking, I still endeavoured to recover by renewing my covenant, trusting myself in the greatness of my way, and la- boured in the fire. My heart, when I was defeated, gave me such advice as the King of Syria got from his servants, when he was defeated by Israel : " Num- ber an army like that thou hast lost, horse for horse, and chariot for chariot; and we will fight against them in the plain, and surely we shall be stronger than they." I laid the blame still on some acciden- tal defect in my former management ; and I thought, were that provided against, all would be well. 2. When still I found something wanting, I cast about in my own mind, and contrived to make it up with something extraordinary of my own, the multiplica- tion of duties, or some such thing or other. " Where- with shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself

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before the high God? Shall I come before him with burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?"

But still these vain refuges failed me, and my case was truly miserable while pursuing them : " Woe to the rebellious children, saith the Lord, that take counsel, but not of me ; and that cover with a cover- ing, but not of the Spirit, that they may add sin to sin : that walk to go down to Egypt, and have not asked at my mouth : to strengthen themselves in the strength of Pharaoh, and to trust in the shadow of Egypt. Therefore shall the strength of Pharaoh be your shame, and the shadow of Egypt your con- fusion." Now, as 1 was really miserable in fol- lowing those courses, so, if the Lord of infinite mercy had not prevented it, I had landed in one of four sad consequences, wherein such exercises and courses often terminate. Either, 1. If I had been freed from convictions, or the Lord had given over his striving with me, and carrying on the work of conviction, after convictions had carried me the length of a form of religion, I had surely, notwith- standing all the disappointments, rested satisfied with that, as having " found the life of my hand," or having, by the endeavours of my hand, and its la- bour, obtained that which would give me a sort of life : " Thou art wearied in the greatness of thy way, yet saidst thou not, There is no hope : thou hast found the life of thy hand, (that is, a sort of

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life by thy labour,) therefore thou wast not grieved." Or, 2. If convictions had been carried on, and the Lord had left me still to follow those courses I took, I would have " laboured in the fire all my davs, wearied and vexed myself for very vanity" — " spend- ing my money for that which is not bread, and my labour for that which doth not profit;" in a continual vicissitude of vows, covenants, engagements and re- solutions; breaches and disquietudes, engagements, and false peace; breaches and racking convictions, would alternately have taken place : and thus I had spent my days, " and at the end been a fool." Or, 3. After I had wearied myself for a while in those vain ways, I would have utterly given up with reli- gion as a vain thing, and said, with those mentioned by the prophet, who said, " It is vain to serve God; and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinances, and that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts ?" And so, with them, I had gone over to open atheism and profanity. Or, 4. Being forced to seek shelter for my convictions, and being so often and sadly disappointed by all the ways I tried, I had at last ended in despair, like Judas, and said, " This evil is of the Lord, why wait I any longer?" like that wicked king. And in very deed I had some experience of all these issues. Sometimes I sat down with the form, " and judged I was rich and increased in goods, and stood in need of nothing." Sometimes I wearied myself in running from one of those vain courses to another. At other seasons I turned quite careless, as finding no profit, and was just at throwing up all care of religion : and very

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often 1 was on the very brink of despair, almost quite distracted.

When I was thus disappointed, especially after making, and frequently repeating my vows and en- gagements, I was cast into the utmost perplexity to find where the fault lay. I found this way of cove- nanting with God recommended by ministers, men- tioned in the Scripture, and the people of God de- clared they had found the benefit of it. I could not accuse myself, at least at sometimes, for known guile in the making of it. What I engaged to do, I was resolved upon at the time. I did engage with much concern and solemnity ; and for some time after, I would have walked with much strictness. But though I could not then discern where the blame lay, I have since been made to see it. 1. " Being ignorant of the righteousness of God, I still went about to establish a righteousness of my own." And though in words I renounced this, yet indeed 1 sought righteousness and peace, not in the Lord Jesus Christ, who " is the end of the law for righte- ousness to every one that believes," but hi my own covenants and engagements ; so that I really put them in Christ's stead. 2. Whatever room 1 in words allowed Christ as to forgiveness for the past, yet .my peace and hope of it for the future, and so my trust, was in the evenness of my own walk. I obtained not righteousness, because I sought it " as it were by the works of the law." This neglect of Christ, and substituting my own covenants and obe- dience in Ins room, was evident; because, whenever 1 was under convictions of sin. instead of recourse to

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his blood, I still sought peace only in renewing my vows. 3. The consent I gave to the law, was not from the reconciliation of my heart to its holiness, but mere- ly in compliance with the restraint put upon me by my convictions. But in very deed the enmity against it still continued: and I would not have made it my choice, if that had not forced me to it; so that I subjected not myself to it. 4. I engaged to live a new life with an old heart, not being yet made to see, " that unless the tree is made good, the fruit cannot be good." 5. " The eye was not single," all I aimed at was self, to be eased of convictions, and obtain peace from these racking disquietudes I was under. I had not the least concern for the Lord's glory, provided I were safe. 6. In a word, I en- gaged before the Lord had thoroughly engaged me. We may be willing, in some sort, before the Lord hath made us truly willing. The first real kind- ness begins on his side ; and we are never engaged to love till the Lord's kindness draw us. The force of convictions may overpower us into some preten- sions of kindness. Thus it was with me. Willing I was to be saved from hell, and to have heaven, under the general notion of a good place ; but not to be saved in God's way, on his terms, and in order to the ends he proposes in the salvation of sinners.

This was not my only trouble at this time. Now I was engaged in the study of metaphysics and natural theology, accustomed to subtile notions, and tickled with them; upon which Satan, in conjunction with the natural atheism of my heart, took occasion to cast me into racking disquietude about the great

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truths of religion, more especially the being of a God. Thus, in the justice of God, that in which I delighted, I mean subtile and abstract notions, proved the occa- sion of much perplexing difficulty to me. For, 1. Some seeming success in my studies, the first year I engaged in the study of philosophy, fostered the natural conceit we all have of our own ability to know, and emboldened me to proceed further than was meet. So true is that of the word, " Knowledge puffeth up." 2. On this the natural curiosity of my vain mind took a liberty to inquire, without fear, into things too high, and made me promise myself satis- faction about them, through my own inquiries : " Vain man would be wise, though he is like the •wild ass's colt." Thus he intrudes into those things which he hath not seen, " vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind." 3. And thus, on suffering a disap- pointment, and failing of success, the natural atheism and enmity of my carnal mind, that rather inclines to reject the things of God, than our own darkness, begun, when puzzled, to inquire, " How can these things be ?" Thus, " professing myself wise, I be- came a fool." 4. Satan, that waits all advantages, finding me thus caught in the thicket, plunged me deeper, by throwing in the " fiery darts" of subtile arguings against the being of a God, whereby all was set on a flame, and I was sometimes cast into violent convulsions.

This exercise about the being of God was much more disquieting than that formerly mentioned : then there was only an unsettledness of mind, pro- ceeding from the felt want of evidence sufficient to

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quiet the mind, in that assurance of the truth, that was necessary to embolden it, without fear, in all its straits to have recourse to, and take rest in God. Now, there were contrary disquieting arguments : then I was only at that of the disciples, " Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth us." But now I was disturbed with the working of " the ruler of darkness," and high imaginations exalting themselves against God.

Though the atheism and enmity of my heart against God, were still great and unremoved, yet the Lord suffered me not to yield, but made me dread and recoil at the terrible conclusion aimed at by those armiinffs. For, 1. There remained so much of that natural knowledge of a Deity which God had made manifest even in the heathens, that is in their consciences, and there was so much of strength added to it by the external evidence of this truth, in the works of creation and providence, as made me recoil at the thoughts of that horrible conclusion of the Atheist, " There is no God." 2. Being at the same time deeply affected with strong apprehen- sions of the shortness and uncertainty of a present life, I dreaded to admit the conclusion, that I saw would shake the foundations of any hope of relief for the future from the other side of time : " If the foundations be destroyed, what hath the righteous done?"

In this difficulty, betwixt light that would not admit of a flat denial of the being of a God, and atheism inflamed and strengthened by Satan's firey darts, I betook myself still to vain and selfish courses.

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My disturbance was from reasonings, and I thought to relieve myself by my own reasonings. Nothing more, did I foolishly think, can be requisite to esta- blish my mind about this truth, and for ever to quiet my mind in a firm assent to it, than to obtain demon- strative arguments for the being of a God. Thus I thought " by searching to find out God," and, like the Psalmist, when shaken about the providence of God, " I thought to know it," that is, by my own reasonings, I expected to obtain establishment in the truth, and an answer to the objections urged against it.

Wherefore I seriously set myself to the search of such arguments ; and I found them, but found not that relief I expected : " When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me." For 1. The most convincing and forcible of those arguments, proceeding upon the absurdity of the contrary con- clusion with great evidence, would not allow of any thing to be said to the argument, and so extorted an assent ; but not enlightening the mind with any satisfying notions and discoveries of the God whom they obliged me to own as existent, my mind was not quieted. For in things of any practical influ- ence, without some competent measure of light about the nature of things, the soul requiring satisfaction, not only as to their reality, but their meetness to answer those practical uses about which it is con- cerned, cannot rest without some discoveries of this : it Thomas said unto him, Lord, we know not whi- ther thou goest; and how can we know the way?" 2. These arguments forced indeed some assent at

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the time ; but not refuting contrary objections, when- ever the light of them was removed, and contrary objections came into view again, I was entirely shaken, like him in Cicero, who read Plato's argu- ments for the immortality of the soul, and said, " When I read, I assent, but I cannot tell how; but so soon as I lay down the book, all the assent is gone." It is faith alone, that, as the word is, " reproves" contrary arguings, and plants in the soul an abiding light, that keeps the soul from its adherence to truth. Thus, like the philosophers of old, " in the wisdom of God, by wisdom I knew not God."

Though I was thus entangled, rather than extri- cated, by these selfish shifts, yet my vain mind still followed these courses. For, 1. What hitherto I had failed of, 1 expected I might find by some fur- ther progress in learning; and therefore I applied myself vigorously to that. But any little progress I made, made me still more sensible how far I was disappointed, and made me experience the truth of this, that " he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow." The further I proceeded, I still found the more difficulties, and the less satisfaction. When this course could not avail, then I spent my weary hours in vain wishes for some extraordinary discoveries : " Nay, but if one rise from the dead, they will be- lieve."

Though I reached not the satisfaction I aimed at, yet I cannot say but this exercise had some use- ful effects. 1. It let me see, that I had need of some further evidence and establishment about the

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truths of religion, than hitherto I had either attain- ed, or knew how to attain. Thus I had got some view of it before : now I was more confirmed in it. 2. My mind being sometimes more quieted as to these truths in hearing the word than by all the arguments, I was inclined to hope this evidence I wanted might come from the Lord. 3. I was beat down somewhat from that towering opinion of my own knowledge and abilities, to know that my first seeming success in philosophy gave me, and brought me to an useful diffidence of my inability to reach satisfaction, even about natural things, and solve objections that lay against truths, which yet upon clear argument, I was forced to admit; which after- wards was of considerable use to me.

But during this period of time, under all these wrestlings and stragglings betwixt growing light and sin, corruptions, as I grew in years, grew stronger and stronger, took deeper root, and received an in- crease of strength by occasional temptations, and new force from the weak resistance made to them by these vain courses. As the law came nearer in its spiritual meaning and extent, sin revived, and appeared more discernible in its strength ; " and sin taking occa- sion by the commandment, wrought in me inclina- tion to all evil." Being fretted, not subdued, it grew stronger, till at length it slew me.

Under this perplexity, I betook myself still to one or other of the fore-mentioned vain courses : " I gadded about to change my way, sent to Egypt, and went to Assyria, yet could not they help me." But yet these exercises and perplexities had some

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intermissions, and then I turned remiss and careless: « My goodness, like the morning cloud and early dew, soon passed away."

However, by these means I was brought to a spe- cious-like form of religion. For now, 1. I took some care to avoid those sins, whether secret or open, that thwarted the light of my conscience most plainly. I not only abstained from those evils to which most, even of the soberer sort of students were frequently drawn over : but with a sort of resolution I kept at a distance from the occasions of them. Thus I be- gan " to escape the pollutions of the world, through the knowledge of the truth." 2. I was more exact and punctual in attending duties, public, private, and secret, than heretofore, and that not without some concern, at least sometimes, as to my -inward frame in them. Thus, I thought, " I kept his ordinances." 3. When I was ensnared, either into the commission of sin, or omission of duty, I was brought to a deep sorrow; and for some time " walked mournfully before God." 4. Whereas I always had a sort of awful regard for them that feared God, since ever I began to be in the least awakened, now I be- gan to have a sort of liking and kindness to them, and pleasure in their company and converse, even about matters of religion. This light forced an approbation of them on my mind, and so " to give glory to God, their light so shining before me," that 1 could not but take notice of them. 5. I had fre- quent " tastes of the word of God, and powers of the world to come," which made me delight in ap- proaching to God. And, 6. I got some things that

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looked like a return of prayer; when under a sense of impotency, I betook myself to God by prayer; in any strait I found help so remarkable, that I could not but take notice of it. The Lord hereby drew me gradually in to expect good in his way; and though I was wrong in the main, as it were, en- couraged the faintest beginnings of a look toward a return : " And the word of the Lord came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying, Seest thou how Ahab humbleth himself before me: because he humbled himself before me, I will not bring the evil in his days ; but in his son's days will I bring the evil upon his house."

Now, though by these means I got a name to live, yet really I was dead. For, 1. The natural darkness still remained uncured. Some dawnings of light were indeed begun, and some discoveries made of what formerly I had not known, yet the power of darkness still remained, and " the veil was not vet taken away, nor were spiritual things seen in a true light." 2. The enmity of my mind against the law*, especially in some instances, remaining in force, there was not " a respect to all God's commands." I had not yet a sight of the beauty of holiness. Nor did I in my heart approve of the whole yoke of Christ's precepts as good and desirable. It was not that I delighted in holiness and conformity to the lave, at least in some instances, but that I was undone without it, that made me aim at any sort of com- pliance. 3. " I yet sought righteousness as it were

* Compare Rom. vii. 8. with Rom. vii. 12. 22.

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by the works of the law." I was wholly legal in all I did, not seeing the necessity, the security, the glory of the gospel method of salvation, by " seeking righteousness and strength in the Lord Christ alone." 4>. Self was the spring of all. My only aim was to be saved, without any regard had to the glory of the Lord, or any inquiry made, how it might be consistent with it to save one who had so deeply offended. In a word, all my religion was con- strained, violent, selfish, legal, and anti-evangelical. These, not to mention other things, were still wrong.

Reflections upon the foregoing Exercise.

It will not be improper to review the preceding exercise, and offer two or three observations.

The foregoing exercise affords me full confirma- tion of many of the truths contested by the Pelagians and others, concerning man's inability to good, and the corruption of his nature. When I read and hear their high-swelling words of vanity in com- mendation of man, and in praise of his free-will to God, his good inclinations; and when I hear spe- cious-like arguments offered for proof of these no- tions, I have no reason to be shaken. Will they dispute me out of my senses ? May I not believe the word ? or must I wrest and distort Scriptures, to make places that appear unfavourable to free-will, accord with these notions of it which some advance ? Sure I am, if they will not allow Scripture to be its own interpreter, it is safer, at least in these things

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that concern our own natural state, which conscience may know, to admit experience to comment, rather than reason, proceeding upon abstract notions : and where Scripture and experience join, there we have the fullest confirmation of the truths that are esta- blished in the mouth of two such witnesses; the last not only confirming, but illustrating the testi- mony of the former. If they say, that their hearts are no,t so perverse and ill-inclined, and that they find inclinations to good in them, I cannot say so of mine : yet, by the way, I must observe, that in their practice they go seldom further, if so far as others, who agree with me in owning their hearts so wicked, their corruptions so strong, their wills depraved, and set upon evil, that they can do nothing well-pleasing to God. Now surely, if matters are as they repre- sent them, they are far to blame. As for me, I find more solid truth in that one Scripture, that tells us, that " the heart is deceitful above all thino-s, and desperately wicked," than in many volumes of idle anti-scriptural notions, reared up on the subtle arguings of men, whose eyes have never yet been opened to see the plagues of their own hearts, and who therefore run out in asserting such an ability and power, and inclination to good in man, as neither Scripture, nor the experience of such as have their eyes in the least measure opened, admit of. How- ever, if others will think that there are such good inclinations in them, I must disavow my part in them. Woful experience convinces me, and obliges me to acknowledge, to my own shame, that I never looked toward the Lord's way, save when he drew f 11

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me : "I was as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke," I never went longer in it than the force lasted. I inclined to sit down, and sat indeed down at every step : no great sign I had any heart to the way. I never got up again, but when the Lord's power was of new put forth. I all this while never went one step but with a grudge : I frequently looked back to Sodom; " I have been as a backsliding heifer." I was grieved for what I left behind ; my heart clave to what my light had the greatest opposition to. Thus I was of them that rebel against the light ; I often refused where the command was plainest. When I was brought into a strait, I betook myself rather to any shift than to Christ. Sin bit me, and yet I loved it : my heart deceived me oft, and yet I trusted in it rather than God. God dealt with me in a way of kindness ; but when he spoke to me in my prosperity, I would not hear : " He smote me, and I went on frowardly." I never parted with any sin till God beat and drave me from it, and hedged in my way." Surely this looks like " the heart de- ceitful above all things, and desperately wicked."

The foregoing exercise shows what a depth of deceitfulness is in the heart of man. How many shifts has my heart used to elude the design of all these strivings of the Lord's Spirit with me ! What strange shifts has the heart of man, and how many are they ! I have named many, but the one half is not told. All these shifts respect but one point in religion. If one would undertake to give an account of those deceits only which are more noted, with re- spect to the whole of his walk and way, how many

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volumes might he write ! There is much true divinity couched in that short Scripture, " The heart is deceitful above all things, who can know it ?" " Who can understand his errors ?" When I, upon a review, remember so many, how many more might I have noticed, if I had observed them at the time, or soon after. And if so many may be seen, how many secret, undiscernible, or at least un- discerned deceits, are there !

How far may we go in religion, and yet come short ! Many things I seemed to have and do : I " did many things, and heard gladly." I was " al- most persuaded to be a Christian." " I seemed to escape the pollutions that are in the world by the knowledge of the truth." " I seemed enlightened, and a partaker of the heavenly gift, and got some tastes of the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come." I underwent many changes, and yet all the while was naught, defective as to the main : " Many shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able." " Not every one that says, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of God."

I cannot but look back with wonder to the asto- nishing patience of God, that suffered my manners so long, and the steadiness he showed in pursuing his work, notwithstanding many provocations to desist,

" still working for his name's sake." All the Crea- te

tion could not have afforded so much patience. The disciples of Christ would have called for fire from heaven. Yea, Moses, the meekest man on earth, would have found more to irritate him here than at Meribah. Glory to God, that we have to do with f 2

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him, and not with man. " His ways are not our ways : nor his thoughts ours. But as the heavens are high above the earth, so are his ways and thoughts of mercy above ours."

I must bear witness to the reasonableness of God's way: For, 1. These things about which he awak- ened my concern ; deliverance from wrath, eternal salvation, and security respecting them, were such as my own reason, upon the best attention, could not but own worthy of the utmost and first concern. He did not call me to vex myself about vanity, and things of no importance. 2. The way he dealt with me, was not destructive to the nature of my facul- ties, but improved them. He enlightened my eyes, to see what he would have me do, and he forced not my will, but swayed it in a way suitable to its na- ture, to a compliance, so far as I went. This was not to force, but gently to bend the will to those things to which it was really proper for it to incline. 3. He always observed the true order of the facul- ties. He swayed the will, so far as it went in com- pliance with his work, by sending forth his light into the mind, that, in the true order of things, should guide the understanding. 4. He carried me on to consideration. He did not seek, as it were, to en- tangle the affections, and by them carry my mind away in a hurry, as sin and Satan are wont to do, who guides sinners, as the Philistines did Samson ; they first put out his eyes, and then made him grind in their mill. 5. The Lord never obliged me to part with any way, any sin, or refuge to which I be- took myself, till he had let me see, that it was not

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only against my duty, but my true interest. 6. So far as I complied with his call, I cannot say that his way was fruitless, or that he was " a barren wilder- ness, or a land of drought." The meanest and most slender piece of compliance, wanted not its reward : " Who is there among you that would shut the doors for nought : neither do ye kindle fire on mine altar for nought." Thus the Lord's work was power, not force. He drew, but it was " with the cords of love, and the bands of a man." He bid me quit many things, but there were vain things that were no bread: " Remember this, and show your- selves men : bring it again to mind, O ye transgres- sors. O house of Israel, are not my ways equal ? Are not your ways unequal? Yet ye say, the way of the Lord is not equal."

Though it was congruous to reason, yet it was a work above the power of nature. I cannot ascribe its rise or progress to myself; for it was what I sought not, I thought not of, I liked not, yea, I hated it, I feared, I avoided, I shifted it ; and when all this would not do, I opposed it. For I was of those that rebel against the light. I cannot ascribe it to any outward means. There are many parts of it which they did not reach. The most plausible failed, the weakest wrought the effect. Neither strong nor weak had always the like effect; but the work was carried on by the secret indiscernible power of Him who is like " the wind blowing where it listeth." The work bears an impress of God in all its steps; the word that awakened me was the voice of him that makes the dead to hear; "that

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calleth things that are not as if they were." The light that shone was the candle of the Lord search- ing, yea, piercing into the hidden parts of the belly ; tracing a deceitful and unsearchable heart through all its turnings and windings. The work was that of one who is every where, and who knows every thing, and is of one mind, and so not to be turned; who will not faint, nor be " discouraged till he have brought forth judgment unto victory." The work is uniform, though variously carried on through many interruptions, over many oppositions, for a long period of time, by means seemingly weak, im- proper, and contrary, suitable only for him " whose ways are in the sea, and whose paths are in the great waters, and whose footsteps are not known." In a word, it was a bush burning, and not consumed only by the presence of God. It was a spark maintained in the midst of an ocean, notwithstanding floods con- tinually poured on it, to extinguish it. This flame was maintained by oil secretly conveyed into it : '• This is the Lord's doing; it is marvellous in our eyes."

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PART III.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF THE LORD'S WORK, FOR THE SPACE OF ABOUT THREE YEARS ENSUING, FROM AUGUST 1696, TO JUNE 1699 ; THE DREADFUL STRAIT TO WHICH I WAS AT LAST BROUGHT, WITH MY DELIVERANCE, AND THE STATE OF MATTERS WITH ME FOR SOME TIME AFTER THIS.

CHAPTER I.

An Account of the Progress of my Convictions, Temptations, and vain Reliefs, from the time I went to the Wemyss, till I was at the last brought to this utmost extremity.

When I had studied philosophy three years, be- ing interested in it, and somewhat puffed up with what progress I had made, and designed and ex- pected to make; though I must say, that still as knowledge increased, self-conceit decreased; and I apprehended I knew more the first year than ever I thought I knew afterwards. Being thus prepared, I designed to go abroad, and improve myself farther, to which also I was advised; but two things pre- vented this proposal, — my mother would not con- sent; and the former exercise having brought me

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into bondage, through fear of death, I was afraid to run the hazards I must run of my life, so long as I was in so unsettled a case as to my soul's state : wherefore, at the request of some friends, I consented rather to engage as chaplain to a family for some time.

Accordingly, in August 1696, I went to the Wemyss. When I came there, a stranger amongst strangers, and persons of considerable quality, by my natural bashfulness, the sensoriousness of my auditors, the publicity of the appearances I was ob- liged to make, to which I had not been formerly ac- customed, my want of good breeding, and the like, I was, for a time, in a very great strait, forced to retirement, and to petition for help how to behave. And though it was my own, not the Lord's honour I designed and was concerned for, yet he that hears the cry of the ravens, and would not overlook Ahab's humiliation, and the Ninevites' repentance, did not fail me in my straits, but helped, so far as was ne- cessary, to maintain the respect due to the station I was in, and to obtain kindness.

During the first half-year, or so, that I was here, I was somewhat diverted from my principal work, being obliged to study what was necessary for ac- complishing me for converse in the world. But still I held on, and the more difficulty I met with, I kept the closer to the form of religion I had taken up. Besides, my station now called and obliged me to somewhat more. But leaving this, which is onlv introductory, I proceed to that which is mainly and only designed in this narrative.

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1 had not long been here, when I was often ne- cessarily, and frequently without sufficient necessity, engaged in debates about the truth of religion, the divinity of the Scriptures, and the most important doctrines delivered in them, by which I was drawn to read the writings of Deists, and other enemies to religion, that I might be acquainted with the argu- ments by which those with whom I sometimes had occasion to dispute opposed the truth. As to the result of those arguments, with respect to others, I shall here waive it, because others are concerned in it ; only I may say, I found it true, " that foolish questions, and genealogies, and contentions, and strivings about the law, are unprofitable and vain." For " evil men and seducers wax worse and worse, deceiving, and being deceived." And " profane and vain babblings do increase unto more ungodli- ness." And to my sad experience I found, that " their word doth eat, as doth a cancer," or gan- grene. It is of an infectious and contagious nature ; and therefore it is safest to shun and avoid them, and follow the wise man's advice : " To forsake the foolish, and live ;" and depart from " a foolish man, when we perceive not in him the lips of knowledge ;" and " cease from the instruction that causes to err from the word of knowledge."

This was of very dangerous consequence to me, and could not prove otherwise to one in my case : For, 1. I was not " rooted and grounded in the truth," being neither notionally instructed in the authority on which the Scriptures are received, nor acquainted practically with its power, and so was f3

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naked of that " armour of light," that is necessary toward a conflict with such enemies. 2. The power of that enmity and darkness, which incline the vain mind of man to reject and carp at the truths of God, as foolishness, still remained unsubdued ; and so I was, " as the children who are tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine." 3. The objections I found started were many, struck at the foundations — were new, and surprising to one who was so unsettled; and were dressed up by the sleight and cunning crafti- ness of them who " lie in wait to deceive." 4. I was not acquainted with that watchfulness, vigilance, and humble sobriety, that was necessary to prevent Satan's gaining any advantage. 5. Satan, on this, finding so fair an occasion, did not let it slip ; for he goes about, seeking such seasons ; and finding things thus, he improved it to my great disquietude.

The adversary finding all things thus prepared, set on me furiously, and employed many against me. 1. He wrought up the natural atheism, darkness and enmity of my heart, to vent itself against the truths of religion, in foolish inquiries, " Is it so ?" " How can these things be?" And what authority hast thou, since thou requirest such things ? 2. He em- ployed some who had all advantages, and were the most likely to prevail, persons smooth, sober, and who opposed the rational arguments; such, some- times, the devil makes use of, who seem themselves " not far from the kingdom of God," like the Scribes who answered and questioned our Lord civilly, whose " words are smoother than butter, while war is in their heart." And these are usually more preva-

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lent; for with their " fair speeches, they deceive the hearts of the simple." 3. He himself acted some- times the subtle serpent, putting and suggesting subtle queries, " Hath God said so?" And some- times he threw in fiery darts, to inflame and disorder me. Thus I found, when I was alone, when I was in prayer, and most serious, hellish oaths, and griev- ous blasphemous suggestions, cast forcibly into my mind, which made me tremble. No wonder he should deal so with me, when he impudently sug- gested, to " him in whom he had nothing," such blasphemous proposals, as that of " falling down to worship him."

By all these ways he assaulted me, and I was grievously tossed about with all the truths of religion. 1. The being of God was again brought in question: the enemy said daily, " Where is thy God?" And the atheism of my heart said also, " There is no God, and who is the Lord ?" I was assaulted about his providence, and all the disorders of the world were urged to my great disturbance : " As for me, my feet were almost gone ; my steps had well nigh slipped. The ungodly prosper in the world, they increase in riches, and therefore his people return thither ; waters of a full cup are wrung out to them : and they say, How doth God know ? And is there knowledge in the most High ?" 3. I was assaulted as to the truth of the word, and many ways troubled about it ; when I read, when I thought about it, I was sometimes plied hard with grievous suggestions. The want of sufficient evidence was complained of: " What sign showest thou, then, that we may see

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and believe thee? What dost thou work?" At other times it was blamed, one while of obscurity, " How loner dost thou make us doubt ? If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly." And anon another sug- gestion was put in against some passages as hard : " This is a hard saying, who can hear it ?" When this took not, it was accused in some places of plain blasphemy : " He hath spoken blasphemy. Ye have heard his blasphemy." It was blamed as contradic- tory to itself: " We have heard out of the law, that Christ abideth for ever; and how sayest thou, The Son of man must be lifted up ?" Its promises were called in question : " Where is the promise of his coming ?" As were also its threats : " Every vision faileth." " Behold they say unto me, Where is the word of the Lord ? Let it come now." Thus was I daily perplexed, insomuch that it was a terror sometimes, for fear of these suggestions, to me to look into the Bible. 4. The mystery of the gospel was particularly set upon, and represented as foolishness, as setting up new gods ; and oft was I put to answer, " How can these things be ?"

The subtle enemy, who had often sol' cited me to high thoughts of myself, now when »c found it for his purpose, urged upon me mean thoughts of my- self, and pressed me to a bastard sort of humility. He often whispered me in the ear, It is vain for you to expect to rid yourself of these difficulties, when so many learned men who have studied the point with so much care, and who were far more capable to discern the truth, cannot reach satisfaction, but have rejected them : " Have any of the rulers, or the

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Pharisees believed on him? But this people who knoweth not the law, are cursed."

By this I was brought into grievous perplexity, and many sad agitations : " My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God? But still I tried wrong courses. 1. I attempted by my own reasonings to relieve myself, " I thought to know this." 2. When this failed, I bought and read books written about the truth of religion. This indeed, had it been kept in its own place, was allowable and useful. But I expected more than I had reason to look for, and as I used it, this was only the fruit of unbelief, and a vain course, running to Ashur, sending to Egypt. 3. 1 wished for visions, voices, or some extraordinary course : " Nay, but if one rise from the dead, they will believe." 4. Wlien these failed, with the sluggard, I sat down discouraged : " The fool foldeth his hands together, and eateth Iiis own flesh." 5. I sometimes betook myself to prayer; but in this I desiderated success, not seek- ing in the right way, nor to right ends.

But all these ways failed me: "I took counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily. I said, I will be wise ; but it was far from me. That which is far off, and exceeding deep, who can find it out ?" 1. As to my own reasonings, they avail not against him who esteems " iron as straw, and brass as rotten Avood." " When I thought to know it, it was too painful." It was labour in mine eyes. 2. As for bocks they satisfied not as to the things they men- tioned, and besides many of my scruples were such

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as were overlooked by them, so they proved physi- cians of no value : " How profitable are right words ! but what doth your arguing reprove?" 3. As to extraordinary expectations, God justly rejected them : " They have Moses and the prophets, and if they will not believe them, neither would they believe though one should rise from the dead." 4. My sloth still increased my trouble ; that foolish poring fretting my spirit, slew me : " The desire of the sluggard killeth him, because his hands refuse to work."

I would have quite sunk under the weight of this trouble, and been swallowed up of sorrow, and landed in despair, if its force had not been somewhat abated by occasional considerations, that were by the good hand of God, sometimes one way, sometimes another, brought to my mind. 1. When the hell- ish conclusions at which all these temptations aimed, when renouncing of religion, rejecting the Scrip- tures, &c. were urged, it was often seasonably sug- gested, " To whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life." The Lord powerfully con- vinced, and kept the conviction strong on my mind, that whenever I parted with revelation, I behoved to give up with all prospect of certainty or satisfaction about eternal life. What Deists told me of the demonstrations of a future happiness built only upon nature's light, had no weight with me, because I had tried those long ago, and found them, to my appre- hension, insufficient : and had they been sufficient, I was not a whit the nearer satisfaction ; to tell me of such a state, without any account of its nature, or

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the terms on which it is attainable, was all one as if nothino- had been said about it. This created still a dread of the conclusion in my mind; and still, when I was solicited to quit the Scriptures, I re- turned, " To whom shall I go to find the words of eternal life?" 2. Upon a due observation of those who were truly religious, I could not but look on them, though their real worth I did not yet discern, as the better part of mankind; and the Lord created a dread in my soul of conclusions that involved the charge of a lie in a matter of the greatest import- ance against the better part of mankind : " If I should speak thus, I would offend against the ge- neration of thy children." The Lord opened mine eyes to see the remarkable folly of those who aban- doned revealed religion. Not to mention the im- pious lives of the generality, I saw the more sober sort guilty of unaccountable folly. The Scripture tells them plainly, that if they have a desire to be satisfied as to the truth of its pretensions, they must walk in the way of its precepts to find it : " If any man will do his will, he shall know this doctrine, if it is of God, or if I speak of myself." But they walk in direct contradiction to its precepts, and yet complain of the want of evidence, while they refuse to try that way wherein only it is to be found. Again, some sober and learned, and otherwise in- quisitive persons, acknowledge, that if we are either cut off from hope, or left to uncertainty about a fu- ture state of happiness, we are miserable; and that they themselves are yet uncertain. While, after all this has been confessed by them, and by some to

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myself, I saw them at little or no pains to be satis- fied : " The scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not." Yea, I found this sort of persons much more eager in searching after what might strengthen their doubts, than what might satisfy them : this smell ed rank of a hatred of lifjht. Now, I thought it was not safe to follow those whom I saw so evidently foolish, and who did so plainly proclaim their own folly: "Evil men understand not judgment; but they that seek the Lord understand all things." This had that weight with me, that I now ceased to wonder that such were unsatisfied about the truth of religion, and that there was no ground of doubting its truth, because they are unsatisfied. 4. The shining evidence of the power of religion in the lives, but more especially in the deaths of the martyrs, of whom I had formerly read, often stayed me as to this, that there is a reality in religion, when I was driven from all other holds : " They were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection." Here I was obliged to own the finger of God, especially when I considered their numbers, their quality, and all circumstances. 5. The known instances of the power of religion in children in their tender years, was sometimes of great use, and appeared of great weight. It checked the force of temptations that drove me to doubt of the reality of religion : " Thus, out of the mouth of babes and sucklings the Lord ordained strength, and in some measure stilled the enemy and the avenger." 6. The sensible and violent opposition I found Satan making to the Scriptures in all the fore-mentioned

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ways, was often strengthening, and persuaded me in some measure, that there behoved to be a reality in religion, for I could not see what could induce him thus to oppose it, if it were a cheat : "Is Satan di- vided?" 7. I got frequent touches in the way of conviction ; and thus finding the power and piercing virtue of the word making " manifest the secrets of my heart, I was forced to fall down, and own God to be in it of a truth." 8. Satan sometimes de- parted, and left me for a season, and then I had some intermission of my sore trouble. 9. I found a secret hope begot and cherished, I could not tell how, at some seasons, even amidst the violence of temptations, that I should be satisfied, and " that I should yet have good cause to praise God, and that what " I knew not now, I should know hereafter ;" which was strengthened by the consideration of what others had met with, who had been visited with tempt- ations that were somewhat like mine; although I doubted if ever in all respects any had been so molested as I, and if there was " any sorrow like unto mine." Yea, sometimes I was made to hope, that Satan's raging foreboded that his time was but short.

As, by these and the like means, the force of the temptation was somewhat broken, so I was encou- raged to several things in which I have reason to own God was kind to me, in keeping me to them. 1. Hereby I was engaged to hold on in an attend- ance, with more concern in duties of religion, public, private, and secret; and so to wait at Wisdom's door-post, of which afterwards I found the advantage.

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2. Hereby I was enabled to conceal all ray own straits from others, who, thereby might either have been stumbled or hardened in their evil way. I was unwilling others should know any thing that might disgust them at religion : " Tell it not in Gath, — lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph." In conversing with such as were shaken, I still en- deavoured to stand for the truth, as if I had been under no doubt about it ; and I must own, that while I did so, the Lord often countenanced me, and satis- fied me, about what I had formerly been disquieted : How good a master is God. A word spoken for him is not lost; nor will he suffer the least service to pass unrewarded. A heathen Cyrus must have his hire ; and so must Nebuchadnezzar.

Before I leave this, I must observe some things which the Lord taught me by this exercise. 1. I hereby learned the danger and vanity of reasoning with Satan. When I begun to answer him with my own reasonings, he had still great advantage ; he easily evaded all my arguments, and easily repelled my answers, and enforced his suggestions ; and when his suggestions were to be maintained in point of argument, he injected them with that impudent vio- lence that I was not able to stand against them. Our safest course is to resist, to hold at a distance, and to avoid communing with him. 2. I must ob- serve likewise the wise providence of God, that the greatest difficulties that lie against religion are hid from Atheists. All the objections I met with in their writings were not near so subtle as those which were often suggested to me. The reason of it,

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from the nature of the thing, is obvious : such per- sons take not a near-hand view of religion ; and while persons stand at a distance, neither the difficulties nor the advantages that attend it are discerned. Again, Satan finding all things quiet with them, keeps all so; and finding that they are easily en- snared, he uses not force. It is where he is in dan- ger of losing a person that he uses his utmost ef- forts; when Christ is ready to cast him out, then he rages, and te