_His last sickness and death._
HE now fell into a deep consumption; but, this messenger of God did not
in the least damp him. Spitting of blood, was no ghastly thing to one
who had his eye upon the blood of Jesus; faint sweats did not daunt him
that had always such reviving cordials at hand. It was matter of joy to
him, that he was now in hopes of having his earnest desires satisfied.
After he had been a while sick, a hidden dimness seized upon his
eyes: by and by his sight quite failed; and there was such a visible
alteration in him, that he and others judged these things to be the
symptoms of death approaching. But when he was thus taken he was not in
the least surprized; but was lifted up with joy to think what a life he
was going to, looking upon death itself as one of his fathers servants,
and his friend, that was sent as a messenger to conduct him safely to
his glorious palace.
But it pleased the Lord to raise him again a little out of his fainting
fit, for his Master had yet more work for him to do. Although his
outward man decayed apace, yet he was renewed in the inward man day
by day: his graces were never more active, and his experience never
greater. When one would have thought, it had been enough for him
to grapple with his pains, he quite forgot his weakness: and was so
swallowed up of the life to come, that he had scarce leisure to think
of his sickness.
For several weeks together, I never heard the least word that savoured
of any complaint or weariness under the hand of God. Now was the time
when one might have seen heaven and the glory of another world realized
to sense. His faith grew exceedingly, and his love was proportionable,
and his joys were equal to both.
It was a very heaven upon earth, to hear and see a man admiring God
at such a rate. Those that did not see, cannot well conceive, what
a sweet frame he was in, for at least six weeks before he died. His
soul was almost always filled with those joys unspeakable and full of
glory. How oft would he cry out, “Oh, that I could let you know what
I now feel! Oh, that I could shew you what I see! Oh that I could
express the thousandth part of that sweetness that I find in Christ!
You would all think it well worth the while to make it your business to
be religious. Oh my dear friends, we little think what Christ is worth
upon a death bed. I would not for a world, nay for millions of worlds,
be now without Christ, and a pardon. I would not for a world be to live
any longer: the very thoughts of a possibility of recovery, make me
tremble.”
When one came to visit him, and told him, that he hoped it might please
God to raise him again. _And do you think to please me_ (said he) _by
such discourse as this?_ No, friend, you are much mistaken if you think
that the thoughts of life and health are pleasing to me. The world hath
quite lost its excellency in my judgment. How poor a thing is it in all
its glory compared with that world which I now live in the sight of!
And as for life, Christ is my life, health, and strength; and I know, I
shall have another kind of life, when I leave this. I tell you it would
incomparably more please me, if you should say to me, “before to-morrow
you will be in eternity.” I so long to be with Christ, that I could
be contented to be cut in pieces, so I might but die and be with him.
Oh how sweet is Jesus! _Come Lord Jesus, come quickly._ Death do thy
worst! Death hath lost it terribleness. Death, it is nothing, I say,
death is nothing (through grace) to me. I can as easily die as shut my
eyes, to turn my head and sleep: _I long to be with Christ; I long to
die!_
His mother and brethren standing by him he said; “_Dear mother_, I
beseech you, that you would chearfully give me up to Christ; do not
hinder me, now I am going to rest in glory. I am afraid of your prayers,
lest they pull one way, and mine another.”
And then turning to his brethren, he said, “I charge you do not pray
for my life; you do me wrong if you do. Oh that glory, the unspeakable
glory that I behold! My heart is full, my heart is full. Christ smiles,
and I cannot chuse but smile: can you find in your heart to stop me,
who am now going to the compleat and eternal enjoyment of Christ?
Would you keep me from my crown? The arms of my blessed Saviour are
open to embrace me; the angels stand ready to carry my soul into his
bosom. Oh, did you but see what I see, you would all cry out with me,
how long, dear Lord; come, Lord Jesus, come quickly! oh, why are his
chariot-wheels so long a coming!”
A minister came often to him, and discoursed with him of the excellency
of Christ, and the glory of the invisible world. _Sir_, said he, _I
feel something of it; my heart is as full as it can hold in this lower
state; I can hold no more here. Oh that I could let you know what I
feel!_
This holy minister praying with him, his soul was ravished with the
abundant incomes of light, life, and love; so that he could scarce
bear the thought of staying longer in the world, but longed to be in
such a condition, wherein he should be better able to bear that weight
of glory; some manifestations whereof did almost sink his weak body.
Indeed had he not been sustained by a great power, his very joys would
have overwhelmed him. While he was in these extasies of joy and love,
he was wont to cry out:
‘Who am I, Lord, who am I, that thou shouldst be mindful of me! Why me,
Lord, why me! Oh, what shall I say unto thee, thou preserver of men!
Oh why me, Lord, why me! If thou wilt look upon such a poor worm, who
can hinder! Who would not love thee! Oh blessed Father? How sweet and
gracious hast thou been unto me!’
*‘Stand astonished, ye heavens, and wonder, O ye angels, at his
infinite grace! Was ever any under heaven more beholding to free grace
than I? Doth God use to do thus with his creatures? Admire him for
ever and ever, Oh ye redeemed ones! Oh those joys, the taste of which
I have! The everlasting joys, which are at his right hand for evermore!
Eternity, eternity itself is too short to praise this God in. O bless
the Lord with me, come let us shout for joy, and boast in the God of
our salvation. Oh, help me to praise the Lord, for his mercy endureth
for ever.’
One of his brethren (that had formerly been wrought upon by his holy
exhortations) praying with him, and seeing him (as he apprehended) near
his dissolution, desired that the Lord would be pleased to continue
those astonishing comforts to the last moment, that he might go from
one heaven to another; and when his work was done here, might have an
easy and triumphant passage to rest.
Mean time he talked as if he had been in the third heaven, and broke
out:
‘Oh, he is come! He is come! O how sweet! How glorious is the blessed
Jesus! What shall I do to speak the thousandth part of his praises!
Oh for words, to set out a little of that excellency! But it is
inexpressible! Oh how excellent, glorious and lovely is the precious
Jesus! He is sweet, he is altogether lovely! And now I am sick of love,
he hath ravished my soul with his beauty! I shall die sick of love!
‘Oh my friends, stand by and wonder, come look upon a dying man, and
wonder; I cannot myself but stand and wonder! Was there ever a greater
kindness; was there ever sensibler manifestations of rich grace!
Oh, why me! Lord, why me! Sure this is akin to heaven, and if I were
never to enjoy any more than this: it were well worth all the torments
that men and devils could invent, to come through even hell to such
transcendent joys. If this be dying, let no true Christian ever be
afraid of dying. Oh death is sweet to me. This bed is soft. Christ’s
arms and kisses, his smiles and visits, would turn hell into heaven. Oh
that you did but see and feel what I do! Come and behold a dying man,
more chearful than ever you saw an healthful man in the midst of his
sweetest enjoyments. Oh Sirs, worldly pleasures are poor, sorry things,
compared with one glimpse of this glory, which shines in so strongly
into my soul! Oh why should any of you be so sad, when I am glad: this,
this is the hour that I have waited for!’
About eight and forty hours before his death, his eyes were dim, and
his sight failed; his jaws shook and trembled, and his feet were cold,
and all the symptoms of death were upon him. His extreme parts were
already dead, and yet, his joys were (if possible) greater still. He
seemed to be in one continued act of seraphic love and praise. He spake
like one that was just entring into the gates of the new _Jerusalem_:
the greatest part of him was now in heaven; not a word dropt from his
mouth but it breathed Christ and heaven.
Then he would give instructions to them that came to see him. He was
scarce ever silent, because the love of Christ and souls constrained
him. There was so much work done for Christ in his last hours, that he
did as much in one hour as some do in a year.
Every person had a faithful affectionate warning. And that good
minister, that was so much with him, used this as an argument to
persuade him to be willing to live a little longer, “God hath something
for thee to do that is yet undone; some word of exhortation to some
poor soul, that you have forgot.”
He was wont every evening to take his leave of his friends, hoping not
to see them till the morning of the resurrection; and he desired that
they would make sure of a comfortable meeting at our Father’s house in
that other world.
When Ministers or Christians came to him, he would beg of them to
spend all the time they had with him in praise. ‘O help me to praise
God, I have nothing to do from this time to eternity, but to praise
and love God. I have what my soul desires upon earth; I cannot tell
what to pray for, but what I have graciously given.’ The wants that are
capable of supplying in this world, are supplied. I want but one thing,
and that is, _a speedy lift to heaven_. I expect no more here, I can’t
desire more, I can’t hear more. Oh praise, praise, praise that infinite
boundless love that hath, to a wonder, looked upon my soul. ‘Help me,
O my friends, to praise and admire him that hath done such astonishing
wonders for my soul: he hath pardoned all my sins, he hath filled me
with his goodness; he hath given me grace and glory, and no good thing
hath he withheld from me.
‘Come, help me with praises, all are too little: come, help me, Oh ye
glorious and mighty angels, who are so well skilled in this heavenly
work. Praise him, all ye creatures upon earth, let every thing that
hath being, help me to praise him, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah:
praise is now my work, and I shall be engaged in that sweet employment
for ever. Bring the bible, turn to _David’s psalms_, and let us sing a
_psalm_ of praise: come let us lift up our voice in the praise of the
Most High; I with you as long as my breath doth last, and when I have
none, I shall do it better.’
Then turning to some of his friends that were weeping, he desired
them rather to rejoice than weep. It may seem a wonder, he could
speak so much as he did when he was so weak; but the joy of the Lord
strengthened him.
He commended the study of the promises to believers, and desired that
they would be sure to make good their claim to them, and then they
might come to the wells of consolation and drink thereof their fill.
According to his desire most of the time that was spent with him, was
spent in praise; and he would be still calling out, _more praise still_.
‘O help me to praise him; I have now nothing else to do; I have done
with prayer and all other ordinances; I have almost done conversing
with mortals. I shall presently be beholding Christ himself, that died
for me, and loved me, and washed me in his blood.
‘I shall, before a few hours are over, be in eternity, singing the
song of _Moses_, and of the _Lamb_. I shall presently stand upon mount
_Zion_, with an innumerable company of angels, and the spirits of the
just made perfect, and Jesus the mediator of the new covenant. I shall
hear the voice of much people, and be one amongst them, which shall say,
hallelujah, salvation, glory, honour, and power unto the Lord our God;
and again, we shall say, hallelujah. Yet a very little while, and I
shall sing unto the _Lamb_, saying, worthy, art thou to receive praise
who wert slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every
kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, and hast made us unto our
God, kings, and priests, and we shall reign with thee for ever and ever.
‘Methinks, I stand, as it were, with one foot in heaven, and the other
upon earth. Methinks I hear the melody of heaven, and see the angels
waiting to carry my soul to the bosom of Jesus, I shall be for ever
with the Lord in glory. And who can chuse but rejoice in all this?’
The day before his death, he looked earnestly on his brother _James_,
who stood by him very sad; of whom he judged, that he was putting
up some ejaculation to God upon his account: _I thank thee, my dear
brother, for thy love_, said he, _thou art now praying for me; and I
know thou hast loved me dearly: but Christ loved me ten thousand times
more than thou dost; come and kiss me dear brother, before I die_.
And so with his cold, dying lips he kissed him, and said, _I shall go
before, and I hope thou shalt follow after to glory_.
Though he was almost always praising God, and exhorting them that were
about him to mind their everlasting concerns, and though he slept but
very little for some nights, yet he was not in the least impaired in
his intellectuals, but his actions were all decent and becoming, and
his discourse rational, solid, divine. And so he continued to the last
minute.
A few hours before his death he called all his relations together, that
he might give them one solemn warning more; and bless them, and pray
for them as his breath and strength would give him leave: which he did
with abundance of authority, affection and spirituality.
_First_, he thanked his dear mother for her tender love to him, and
desired that she might be in travail to see Christ formed in the souls
of the rest of her children, and might see of the travail of her soul,
and meet them with joy in that great day.
_Then_ he charged all his brethren and sisters as they would answer
it before God, to carry it dutiful to their dear mother. And for his
eldest brother _William_ (at whose house he lay sick) his prayer was
that he might be swallowed up of Christ and love to souls; and be more
and more exemplary in his life and successful in his ministry.
His next brother’s name was _Andrew_, a citizen of _London_, who
was with him sometimes; but (his necessary business calling him away)
he could not then be by. Yet he was not forgot, but he was thus blessed,
_The God of heaven remember my poor brother at_ London; _the Lord make
him truly rich in giving him the pearl of great price, and make him a
fellow citizen with the saints, and of the houshold of God; the Lord
deliver him from the sins of that city; may the world be kept out of
his heart. Oh that he may be as his name is, a strong man, and that I
may meet him with you_.
_Then_ he called his next brother whose name was _James_ (whom God had
made him a spiritual father to) and said _brother_ James, _I hope the
Lord hath given thee a goodly heritage; the lines are fallen to thee in
pleasant places: the Lord is thy portion_. I _hope the Lord hath shewed
thee the worth of Christ_. Hold on, dear brother; Christ, heaven and
glory, are worth striving for; the Lord give thee more abundance of his
grace.
_Then_ his next brother _Abraham_ was called, to whom he spake to this
purpose, _the blessing of the God of_ Abraham _rest upon thee, the Lord
make thee a father of many spiritual children_.
His _fifth_ brother was _Joseph_, whom he blessed in this manner; _Let
him bless thee, Oh_ Joseph, _that blessed him that was separated from
his brethren. O that his everlasting arms may take hold on thee! It
is enough, if yet thou mayest live in his sight. My heart hath been
working toward thee poor_ Joseph; _and I am not without hopes, that
the arms of the Almighty will embrace thee. The God of thy father bless
thee with the blessing of heaven above._
_The next_ was his sister Mary, to whom he spoke thus, _poor sister_
Mary, _thy body is weak and thy days will ♦be filled with bitterness;
thy name is_ Marah; _the Lord sweeten all with his grace and peace, and
give thee health in thy soul. Be patient, make sure of Christ, and all
is well._
♦ “he” replaced with “be”
_Then_ his other sister whose name was _Sarah_ was called; whom he thus
blessed, _Sister_ Sarah, _thy body is strong and healthful: Oh that thy
soul may be so too! The Lord make thee first a wise virgin, and then a
mother in_ Israel; _a pattern of modesty, humility, and holiness_.
_Then_ another brother, _Jacob_ was called, whom he blessed after this
manner; _The Lord make thee an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no
guile! Oh that thou mayest learn to wrestle with God, and like a prince
mayest prevail, and not go without a blessing_.
Then he prayed for his youngest brother _Benjamin_, who was then but an
infant; _Poor little_ Benjamin, _O that the Father of the fatherless,
would take care of the poor child, that thou, which never sawest thy
father upon earth, mayest see him with joy in heaven; The Lord be thy
Father, and portion: mayest thou prove the son of thy mother’s right
hand, and the joy of her age._
‘O that none of us all may be found amongst the unconverted in the
day of judgment! Oh that every one of us may appear (with our honoured
father and dear mother) before Christ with joy, that they may say, Lord,
here are we, and the children which thou hast given us. Oh that we may
live to God here, and live with him hereafter.’
“And now my dear mother, brethren and sisters, farewell; I leave you
for awhile and I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace,
which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among
all them that are sanctified.”
“And now dear Lord, my work is done. I have finished my course, I have
fought the good fight; and henceforth there remaineth for me a crown of
righteousness! Now come, dear Lord Jesus, come quickly.”
Then the minister came to give him his last visit, and to do the office
of an inferior angel, to help to convey his blessed soul to glory. When
the minister spake to him, his heart was in a flame of love, and joy,
which drew tears of joy from him, to hear a man just dying, talk as ♦if
he came from the immediate presence of God. One might have read _grace_
and _glory_ in his countenance. Oh the praise, the triumphant praises
that he put up! And every one must speak praise about him, or else they
made a jar in his harmony.
♦ “of” replaced with “if” per Errata
And indeed most did, as well as they could, help him in praise. So that
I never heard, or knew more praise given to God in one room, than in
his chamber.
A little before he died, in the prayer or rather praises, he was
so wrapped up with admiration and joy, that he could scarce forbear
shouting for joy. In the conclusion of the duty, with abundance of
faith and fervency, he said aloud, _Amen, Amen_.
And now his desires shall soon be satisfied; death comes apace to do
his office; his jaws are loosened more and more, his hands and feet
are cold as clay, and a cold sweat is upon him: but, oh how glad was
he when he felt his spirit just a going! never was death more welcome
to any mortal. Though the pangs of death were strong, yet that far
more exceeding weight of glory, made him endure bitter pains with much
patience and courage. In the extremity of his pains, he desired his
eldest brother to take away one pillow from him that he might die with
more ease: His brother replied, that he durst not for a world, do any
thing that might hasten his death a moment. Then he was well satisfied,
and sweetly resigned himself up wholly to God’s disposal: and after a
few minutes, he gave himself a little turn on one side, and departed to
the Lord.
Oh that all the relations which thou hast left behind thee, may live
thy life, and die thy death, and live with Christ and thee, for ever
and ever. _Amen, Amen._
He died June, 1657, aged 23‒24, and was buried in Kelshall Church in
Hertfordshire.
An EXTRACT of the
LIFE AND DEATH OF
Mr. THOMAS HALIBURTON.
The PREFACE.
1. “THE _kingdom of |God|,” saith our blessed |Lord|, “is within you.”
It is no outward, no distant thing: “but a well of living water” in the
soul, “springing up into everlasting life.” It is “righteousness and
peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” It is holiness and happiness._
2. _The general manner wherein it pleases |God| to set it up in
the heart is this. A sinner, being drawn by the love of the Father,
enlightened by the Son (“the true light which lighteth every man that
cometh into the world”) and convinced of sin by the Holy Ghost; through
the preventing grace which is given him freely, cometh weary and heavy
laden, and casteth all his sins upon him that is “mighty to save.”
He receiveth from him, true living faith. Being justified by faith he
hath peace with |God|: he rejoices in hope of the glory of |God|, and
knows that sin hath no more dominion over him. And the love of |God|
is shed abroad in his heart, producing all holiness of heart and of
conversation._
3. _This work of |God| in the soul of man is so described in the
following treatise, as I have not seen it in any other, either antient
or modern, in our own or any other language. So that I cannot but value
it next to the holy scriptures, above any other human composition,
excepting only the |Christian pattern|, and the small remains of
Clemens Romanus, Polycarp, and |Ignatius|._
4. _Yet this great servant of |God| at some times fell back from
the glorious liberty he had received, into the spirit of fear and
sin and bondage. But why was it thus? Because the hand of the |Lord|
was shortened? No verily: but because he did not abide in |Christ|;
because he did not cleave to him with all his heart: because he grieved
the holy Spirit, by some, perhaps undiscerned, unfaithfulness; who
thereupon for a season departing from him, left him weak and like
another man._
5. _But it may be said, “The gospel covenant does not promise entire
freedom from sin.” What do you mean by the word sin? Those numberless
weaknesses and follies, sometimes (improperly) termed sins of
infirmity? If you mean only this, we shall not put off these but with
our bodies. But if you mean, “It does not promise entire freedom from
sin, in its proper sense, or from committing sin:” this is by no means
true, unless the scripture be false: for thus it is written: “whosoever
is born of |God| doth not commit sin:” (unless he lose the spirit of
adoption, if not finally, yet for awhile, as did this child of God)
“for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born
of |God|.” He cannot sin so long as “he keepeth himself;” for then
“that wicked one toucheth him not.”_ 1 John iii. 9, 5, 18.
6. _We see then how to judge of that other assertion, “That the mercy
of |God| to his sons in |Christ Jesus|, extends to all infirmities,
follies and sins, multiplied relapses not excepted.” We grant many of
the children of |God| find mercy, notwithstanding multiplied relapses.
But tho’ it is possible a man may be a child of |God|, who is not fully
freed from sin, it does not follow that freedom from sin is impossible;
or, that it is not to be expected by all; for it is promised. It is
described by the Holy Ghost as the common privilege of all. And “|God|
will be mindful (O let us be so!) of his covenant and promise, which he
hath made to a thousand generations.”_
7. _This caution is necessary to be remembered, that ye who are weak
be not offended. Neither be ye offended, when ye hear the wisdom of the
world pronounce all this, mere enthusiasm: a hard word, which most of
those who are fondest of it, no more understand ♦than they do Arabic.
Ask, in the spirit of meekness, him who calls it so, “Is the kingdom
of |God| set up in |your| soul? Do |you| feel that peace of |God| which
passeth all understanding? Do |you| rejoice with joy unspeakable and
full of glory? Is the love of |God| shed abroad in |your| heart, by the
Holy Ghost which dwelleth in |you|?” If not, you are no judge of these
matters. You cannot discern the things of the spirit of |God|. They
are enthusiasm, madness, foolishness to you: for they are spiritually
discerned._
♦ duplicate word “than” removed
8. _Ask such a one (but with meekness and love) “Are |you| taught of
|God|? Do you know that he abideth in you? Have you the revelation of
the Holy Ghost (they are the words of your own church) inspiring into
you the true meaning of scripture?” If you have not, with all your
human science and worldly wisdom, you know nothing yet as you ought
to know. Whatever you are in other respects, as to the things of |God|,
you are an unlearned and ignorant man. And if you are unstable too,
you will wrest these, as you do also the other scriptures, to your own
destruction._
9. _Be not then surprized, ye that wait for peace, and joy, and
love, thro’ faith in the blood of |Jesus|, that such judges, as these
are continually crying out “Enthusiasm!” if you speak of the inward
operations of the Holy Ghost. And as to you who have already peace
with |God|, thro’ our |Lord Jesus Christ|, who now feel his love shed
abroad in your hearts, by the Holy Ghost which is given unto you;
with whose spirit the spirit of |God| beareth witness, that ye are the
sons of |God|; it is your part to confirm your love toward them in all
lowliness and meekness: (for who is it that maketh thee to differ? Or
what hast thou, which thou hast not received?) And to plead earnestly
for them at the throne of grace, that the day-star may appear in their
hearts also, and the sun of righteousness at length arise upon them,
with healing in his wings!_
London,
February 9, 1738‒9.
JOHN WESLEY.
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
_A short account of his birth and life, till ten years of age._
1. MR. _Thomas Haliburton_, was born at _Duplin_, in the parish of
Aberdalgy, (of which his father was sometime minister) on _December 25,
1674_. The three former parts of the following account were wrote by
himself: the last is partly extracted from his diary, and partly taken
from eye and ear-witnesses.
2. 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. But if I can recount what has
past between God and my soul, so as to discover not only the parts of
this work, the several advances it made, the opposition of the world,
the devil and my own heart; if I can represent this work in its order,
it may be of great use to my own establishment; and, should it fall
into the hands of any other Christian, it might not be unuseful: for
the work of God 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 to another’s; and both to the word of God.
3. I came into the world with a nature wholly corrupted, and a heart
fully set in me to do evil: and from the morning of my days, though I
was under the great light of the gospel, and the inspection of pious
parents, and not yet corrupted by custom; yet the imaginations of my
heart, and the whole tenor of my life were only evil continually.
4. Indeed, in this period of my life, I had unusual advantages: my
parents were eminently religious; I continually heard the sound of
divine truth in their instructions, and had the beauty of holiness set
before my eyes in their example. They kept me from ill company, and
habituated me early to such outwards duties as I was capable of. But
this care of my father during his life, (which ended October, 1682,)
and of my mother after his death, did not change, but only hide nature.
And, though I cannot remember all the particulars, from the fourth
or fifth year of my life; yet I do remember the general bent of my
mind, which was even then wholly set against God: insomuch, that
when I now survey the decalogue, and review this portion of my time,
notwithstanding the great distance, I still distinctly remember, and
could easily enumerate many instances of the opposition of my heart
unto every one of its precepts.
*5. For many years it is true, the sins of this part of my life were
entirely out of my thoughts. But when God began to convince me of
sin, even those I had long since forgotten, those that were of an
older date than any thing else I could remember, and not attended
with any such remarkable circumstances, as could be supposed to make
a deep impression on my memory, were brought on my mind with unusual
distinctness. Whence I cannot but observe: 1. What exact notice the
holy God takes of what men pass over as pardonable follies. 2. How just
reason we have to fear, that in the strokes we feel in riper years, God
is “making us to possess the iniquities of our youth.” 3. What an exact
register, conscience, God’s deputy, keeps; how early it begins; how
accurate it is (even when it seems to sleep) and how it will justify
his severity against sinners at the last day. O how far up will it
fetch its accounts of those evils which we mind nothing of! When God
shall open our eyes to discern those _prints which he setteth upon the
heels of our feet; when the books shall be opened, and the dead, small
and great, judged out of the things that are written therein_!
*6. When I review this first period of my life, what reason have I to
be ashamed, and even confounded, to think I have spent ten years of
a short life, without almost a rational thought, undoubtedly without
any that was not sinful. And this being matter of undoubted experience,
I have herein a strong confirmation of my faith, as to the guilt of
_Adam_’s sin, and its imputation to his posterity: for, 1. From a child
the bent of my soul was “enmity against God.” Nor was this the effect
of custom or education, no; there was a sweet conspiracy of precept,
discipline and example, to carry me the contrary way. Nor can I charge
the fault of this on my constitution of body, or any thing that might
in a natural way proceed from my parents. Yet was this enmity so strong
as not to be supprest, much less subdued, by the utmost care, and
the best outward means. This is undoubted fact. 2. To say, I was thus
originally framed without respect to any sin chargeable on me, is a
position so full of flat contrariety to all the notions I can entertain
of God, to his wisdom, his equity, and his goodness, that I cannot
think of it without horror. 3. Penal then this corruption must be, as
death and diseases are. And whereof can it be a punishment, if not of
_Adam_’s sin? While then these things are so plain in fact, and the
deduction so easy from them, whatever subtle arguments any use against
this great truth, I have no reason to be moved thereby.
7. Hence, lastly, I am taught what estimate to make of those good
inclinations with which some are said to be born. Either they are the
early effects of preventing grace; or, of education, custom, occasional
restraints, and freedom from temptation. A natural temper may be easily
influenced by some of these, and by the constitution of the body, to a
distaste of those grosser sins which makes the most noise in the world.
Yet all this is but sin under a disguise: and the odds is not great.
The one sort of sinners promise good fruit, but deceive; whereas the
openly profane forbid expectation. And yet of this last sort more
receive the gospel than of the former. _Verily I say unto you, the
publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you._
CHAPTER II.
_An account of the next two years of his life._
1. IN May 1685, I went with my mother into Holland, and being in some
danger while we were at sea, my conscience, till then asleep, began to
awaken, and to be terrified with apprehensions of death. But all this
concern was nothing more than natural fear, and a selfish desire of
preservation. I was unwilling to die, and afraid of hell: it was not
sin, but the consequence of it I wanted to escape. The glory of God I
was not concerned for at all; and accordingly was the event. I promised,
that were I at land, I would keep all his commands. My mother told me,
it would not hold. But I was too ignorant of my own heart to believe
her: I multiplied engagements, and doubted not but I should perform
them. But no sooner was I fixed at Rotterdam, than I forgot all my
promises and resolutions. The unrenewed heart being free from the force
put upon it, fell again into its old course. Nay, I grew still worse:
the corruption that stopped for awhile, now ran with greater violence.
It is true, my awe for my mother, and the power of education, still
restrained me from open sins. But to many secret things I was strongly
inclined, and in many instances followed my inclinations: being a ready
and easy prey to every temptation, notwithstanding all my engagements.
2. My sins here had this grievous aggravation, they were committed
against greater light, and more of the means of grace, than I had ever
before enjoyed. We had sermons almost every day, and were catechized
every Saturday. My mother took care I should attend most of these,
and at the same time, private duties, praying with me, and for me,
and obliging me to read the scripture, and other useful books. But so
far was all this from having its due effect, that I was weary of it,
and went on in sin: though not without frequent convictions, occasioned
sometimes by the remains of my education. Yet all these were only
as the starts of a sleeping man, disturbed by some sudden noise: he
stirs a little but soon sinks down again, faster asleep than before. I
easily freed myself from them, either by promising to hear, or comply
with them afterward, by withdrawing from the means of conviction,
by extenuating my sins; or by turning my eye to some thing I thought
good in myself, though God knows I had little which had even the
appearance of it. At other times I looked to the tendency of these
convictions, _viz._ the engaging me to be holy; and then I pored upon
the difficulties of that course, till I had frighted myself from a
compliance with them. If all these shifts failed, I then betook myself
to diversions, which soon choaked the word, and all convictions from it.
3. In December 1686, upon the earnest desire of my father’s sister,
married to the provost of Perth, I was sent home. While I stayed in
this family, I saw nothing of religion; and I easily took the liberty
they gave, and made fair advances towards rejecting the very form of
it. My aversion to those sins, which through the influence of education
I abominated before, sensibly weakened. My hate to learning increased,
which I looked on as a burthen and a drudgery, worse than the basest
employment. And many a sinful shift did I betake myself to, that I
might get the time shuffled over. In spring my mother came to me. I
was then so rooted in ill, that in spite of natural affection, I was
grieved at her return; and when I first heard her voice, it damped me.
I cared not to see her; nor was there any thing I disliked more than
her conversation. I feared to be questioned as to what was past, or
to be restrained from my sinful liberty. However, in the beginning of
summer, my mother took me again to Rotterdam, and put me to Erasmus’s
school there. Here, though I stayed not long, the method of teaching
took with me, so that I began to delight in learning. But otherwise I
was still worse and worse, under all the means God made use of to bring
me to myself.
CHAPTER III.
_Of the revival of his convictions, and their effects
till 1690._
1. IN the beginning of Autumn 1687, we returned home, and fixed at
Perth. Here I was immediately sent to school, and made more progress
in learning than before. But as to religion, I continued as unconcerned
about, and as averse from it as ever. However I behaved myself under
my mother’s eye, when I was with my comrades I took my full liberty;
and, notwithstanding my greater knowledge, ran with them into all the
same follies and extravagancies. And thus I continued till toward the
close of king James’s reign; when the fear of some sudden stroke from
the Papists, of which there was every where a great noise, revived my
concern about religion. Of this, being somewhat deeper than before, I
shall endeavour to give a distinct account.
2. It was about this time that God by the preaching of the word, and
by catechizing in publick and private, enlightened my mind farther with
the notional knowledge of the law, and of the gospel. And then sin was
left without excuse, and conscience being armed with more knowledge,
its checks were more frequent and sharp, and not so easily evaded; some
touches of sickness too rivetted in me the impressions of frailty and
mortality, and the tendency of each of those numerous diseases, to
which we are daily exposed. And hereby I was brought into, and kept
under continual bondage through fear of death.
3. I was now cast into the most grievous disquietude, having sorrow in
my heart daily. I was in a dreadful strait betwixt two, on the one hand,
my fears gave an edge to my convictions of sin. This made me attend
more to the word of God; the more I attended to it, they increased the
more; and I saw there was no way to be freed from them, but by being
thoroughly religious. On the other hand if I should engage in religion
in earnest, I saw the hazard of suffering, perhaps dying for it. And
this I could not think of. Betwixt both I was dreadfully tost, so that
for some nights, sleep went from my eyes. There was often imprest on my
fancy, one holding a dagger to my breast, with “Quit your religion or
die.” And that so strongly, that I have almost fainted under it, being
still terribly unresolved what to do. Some times I would let him give
the fatal stroke; but then my spirits failed, and my heart sunk within
me. At other times I resolved to quit my religion, and take it again
when the danger was past. But neither could I find rest here. What
thought I, if he destroy me afterward, and so I loose both life and
religion? Or what if I die, before the danger is past, and so have no
time to take it again.
♦4. For near a year, few weeks, nay, few days and nights, past over me
without these struggles. But after King James’s army was overthrown,
on July 27, 1689, I soon grew as remiss as before. All my remaining
difficulty was to stifle my convictions, which I endeavoured partly
by a more careful attendance on outward duties, partly by promising to
abstain from those sins, which most directly crost my light, and partly
by resolving to enquire farther into the will of God, and to comply
with it _hereafter_.
♦ “3.” replaced with “4.”
5. But these courses afforded no solid repose. The first sin against
light or omission of duty, shook all, and I was confounded at the
thoughts of appearing before God in such a righteousness. Indeed, I
had some ease when trials were at a distance; but it vanished on their
approach. This was not gold tried in the fire; nor would it abide so
much as a near view of danger; but at the very appearance of a storm,
the foundation fell away.
6. The effects of my being thus exercised were: 1. I was brought
to doubt of the truths of religion. Whenever I would have built on
them in time of distress, a suspicion secretly haunted me; “What if
these things are not so? Have I a certainty and evidence about them,
answerable to the weight that is to be laid upon them?” Death and the
trouble attending it, were certain things: but I was not so certain
of the truths of religion. Still when, under apprehensions of death, I
would have taken rest therein, but my mind began to waver. Not that I
could give any reason for it; but _the way of the wicked is as darkness;
they know not at what they stumble_. 2. I found plainly hereby that I
could never have peace, till I came to another sort of certainty about
religion. Death I saw was unavoidable and might be sudden; nor could
I banish the thoughts of it. Therefore I concluded, “Unless I obtain
such a conviction of religion, and such an interest in it, as will
make me look death in the face, not only without fear, but with joy;
good it were I had never been born.” But how or ♦where this was to
be obtained I was utterly uncertain. Here I lay in great perplexity,
under the melancholly sense 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 somewhat eased one day, while I was reading how
Mr. _Robert Bruce_ was in a doubt, even concerning the being of God,
who yet afterwards came to the fullest satisfaction. I then felt a
secret hope, “That sometime in one way or other, God might thus satisfy
_me_.” Here was the dawning of a light, which though if it was not soon
cleared up, yet was never wholly put out again. A light which though as
yet it was far from satisfying, yet kept me from utter despair.
♦ “were” replaced with “where” per Errata
7. About this time one Mr. _Donaldson_, a reverend old clergyman,
preached at _Perth_, and coming to visit my mother, called for me,
and asked me among other questions, “If I sought a blessing upon my
learning?” I frankly answered, no. He replied, with a severe look,
“Sirrah, unsanctified learning has done much mischief in the church
of God.” This saying left so deep an impression on me ever after, that
whenever I was any way straitened, I applied to God, by prayer for help
in my learning, and pardon for not seeking it before. Yet as to the
main, I was still afar off from God, and an enemy to him both in my
heart and works.
CHAPTER IV.
_Of the increase of his convictions, from_ Autumn 1690,
_till_ May 1693.
1. FOR the better advantage of my education my mother in 1690, removed
with me to _Edinburgh_. I was now again put to school, and in _November
1692_, entered at the college. Here my knowledge of the law of God
daily increased; and therewith my knowledge of sin. I saw more and
more, that he was displeased with me for sins which formerly I had
not observed. The impressions of my mortality were likewise rivetted
in me by new afflictions, and I was more in bondage through the growing
fear of death. Again the scriptures being now daily preached, forced me
to some enquiry into my own sincerity in religion; and I was willing,
provided I might save my bosom-idols, not only to hear, but _to do many
things_.
2. I was now carried far in a form of religion. I prayed not only
morning and evening, but at other times too: I wept much in secret: I
read and meditated, and resolved to live otherwise than I had done. But
this goodness too was as the morning cloud it was force and not nature:
and therefore could not be expected to last any longer than the force
which occasioned it.
3. While I was under this distress many a wretched shift did I betake
myself to for relief. When I read or heard searching things; if any
thing that was said seemed to make for me, I greedily catched hold of
it. When I found somewhat required that I neither did, nor could even
resolve to comply with; I thought to compound and make amends some
other way. Or else I questioned, whether God had required it or no?
Whether he that taught so was not mistaken? And whether I might not be
in a state of salvation, without those marks of it which he assigned.
Again, many times when I would not see, I quarrelled with ministers
or books for not speaking plainly. Always I carefully sought for
the lowest marks, and the least degrees of grace that were saving.
For I designed but so much religion as would take me to heaven, the
very least that would serve the turn. And when none of those shifts
availed, I resolved in general, to do all that God commanded. But I
soon retracted when he tried me in any particulars that were contrary
to my inclinations. And when I saw I must do it, I begged a little
respite: with St. _Austin_, “I was content to be holy, but not yet:”
forgetting that a delay is, in God’s account, a refusal; since all his
commandments require present obedience. After all ways were tried I
blamed my education. I knew religion was a change of heart; but whether
mine had undergone this change was the question: Now, thought I, “If
I had not been educated religiously, but had changed all at once, it
would have been more easily discernable.” Thus was I _entangled in my
own ways, and even seeking wisdom, I found it not_.
4. Although I now seemed to have gone far; yet I was indeed wholly
wrong. For being convinced of the necessity of righteousness, but
ignorant of Christ, _I sought it by the works of the law_. Therefore
_the carnal mind, which was enmity against_ God, still continued in
me: and all my struggles were only a toiling to and fro, between light
and love of sin, wherein sin was still conqueror; for my bosom idols I
could not part with. Beside the small religion I had, was not abiding,
but rose and fell with the above mentioned occasions.
5. About this time _Clark’s Martyrology_ came into my hands. I loved
history and read it greedily. The patience, courage, and joy of the
martyrs convinced me that there was a reality in religion, beyond the
power of nature. I was convinced likewise that I was a stranger to it,
because I could not think of suffering. And withal I felt some faint
desires after it, so at least, as often to join in _Balaam_’s wish,
_Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like
his_.
6. At this time likewise God restrained me from many follies I was
inclined to, by bodily infirmity. He provided me too with friends who
were very tender of me. He fed me, _though I knew him not_. But so
far was I from being thankful for these mercies, that my proud heart
fretted at them. O what reason have I to say, _The |Lord| is good even
to the evil and unthankful._
CHAPTER V.
_Of the straits he was in, and the course he took for relief,
from May 1693, to August 1696._
1. THE air of _Edinburgh_ agreeing neither with my mother nor me, in
_May 1693_ she removed to St. _Andrews_. And here I came under the
care of Mr. _Taylor_, a wise man, and one very careful of me. Thus
chased as I was from place to place, God every where provided me with
friends. And now by the searching ministry of Mr. _Forrester_, he
began to give me some small discovery of the more spiritual evils of my
soul. He opened to me first the pride of my heart, and the wickedness
and injustice of valuing myself upon those deliverances from my own
weakness, which had been wholly wrought by his own strength. I likewise
saw the impiety of _drawing near to him with my mouth, while my heart
was far from him_: and indeed of trusting to any outward performance,
without the life of all, _faith working by love_.
2. This, added to what I was conscious of before, frequently ♦threw me
into racking perplexity; when finding no peace in my former evasions
I resolved to enter into a solemn covenant with God; and having wrote
and subscribed this, I believed all was right. I found a sort of
present peace; amendment I thought sufficient atonement, and such an
engagement I looked on as a performance. I now likewise often found an
unusual sweetness in hearing the word, and sometimes the most piercing
convictions. And these were indeed _a taste of the good word of_ God,
_and of the powers of the world to come_.
♦ “through” replaced with “threw” per Errata
3. But the merciful God would not let me rest here: the peace I found
by making this covenant, was soon lost by breaking it: at the same time
my heart smote me for my old sins, by which I found former accounts
to be still standing against me, which filled me with confusion and
jealousies of these ways. I perceived too, something of the treachery
of my engagements, and that my heart had not been found therein, but
had secret reserves for some sins, which were then given ♦up inward
only. God also let loose some of my corruptions upon me; which as soon
as his restraint was taken off, were more violent than ever, and bore
down before them all that I had set in their way. By these means he
discovered to me the fruitlesness of my covenant, and threw me afresh
into the utmost confusion: while the evil I thought so effectually
provided against, again came upon me.
♦ “me in one word” replaced with “up inward” per Errata
4. Yet notwithstanding I felt the vanity of these ways, I still
adhered to them. I again trusted my own heart, and hoped to recover
by renewing the peace I lost by breaking my covenant. I laid the blame
on some accidental defect in my former management, and thought, were
that mended, all would be well. When I found something wanting still,
I contrived to make it up with something extraordinary of my own, with
the multiplication of prayers, or of some outward duty or other. But
all these refuges failed, and my life was so throughly miserable while
I was pursuing them, that had not the infinite mercy of God prevented,
one of these effects had surely followed. Either, 1. The convictions
I was under would have ceased, God giving over his striving with
me, and then having attained to a form of godliness, I should have
rested therein and looked no farther. Or, 2. If those convictions had
continued, and I had been left to my own way, I should have _laboured
in the fire all my days, wearying myself with vanity_, in a continual
vicissitude of resolutions and breaches, security and disquietude:
engagements and sins, false peace and racking anxiety, by turns taking
place. Or, 3. When I had wearied myself in vain, I should have utterly
given up religion, and gone over, if not to direct Atheism, at least to
open prophaneness. Or, lastly, Being forced to seek shelter somewhere,
and being so sadly disappointed in all the ways I tried, I had said,
_This evil is of the |Lord|, why wait I any longer_? And so sunk
in final despair. And in fact, I had some experience of all these.
Sometimes I sat down with the bare form. Sometimes I wearied myself
in running from one of these vain courses to another. At other times,
finding no profit, I turned careless, and was on the point of throwing
off all religion. And very often I was driven almost to distraction,
and stood on the very brink of despair.
5. When I had been disappointed again and again, I was in the utmost
perplexity to find where the fault lay. I found this way of covenanting
with God mentioned in scripture, recommended by ministers, and approved
by the experience of all the people of God. I could not tax myself with
guile in doing it: I was resolved to perform the engagement I made.
I made it with much concern and solemnity, and for some time kept it
strictly. But though I could not then see where the failing was, I
have since been enabled to see it clearly. 1. _Being ignorant of the
righteousness of_ God, I was still _establishing a righteousness of
my own_: and though in words I renounced this, yet in fact I sought
righteousness and peace, not in the Lord Jesus, but in my own covenants
and engagements, so that I really put them in Christ’s room: and as
to forgiveness of sins, my real trust was not in his blood, but in
the evenness of my own walk. Therefore, I obtained not righteousness,
_because I still sought it, as it were by the works of the law_. And
it was evident I did so, by this plain sign; whenever I was challenged
for sin, instead of recourse to the blood of Christ, I still sought
peace only in renewing my vows again; the consent I gave to the law,
was not from the reconcilement of my heart to its holiness; but merely
from fear. The enmity against it continued: nor would I have chosen it,
had that force been away. Farther, my eye was not single; provided I
was safe, I had no concern for the glory of God. In a word, I engaged,
before God had thoroughly engaged me. We may be in a sort willing,
before he hath made us truly so. But the first real kindness begins
with him: and we never love till his kindness draws us. Fear may indeed
overpower us into something like it, as it did me. I was willing to
be saved from hell: but not to be saved in God’s way, and in order to
those ends he proposes in our salvation.
6. This was not my only trouble. I was now engaged in metaphysics and
natural divinity; accustomed to subtil notions, and pleased with them;
whence, by the just permission of God, the devil took occasion to cast
me into doubts about the great truths of religion, especially the being
of a God. I not only felt, as formerly, the want of evidence for it,
but various arguments were suggested against it. But though the enmity
of my heart against God was still great, yet he suffered me not to
yield to them. There remained so much evidence of his being, in his
works of creation and providence, as made me recoil at the terrible
conclusion, aimed at by those arguments. And being likewise affected
with deep apprehensions of the shortness and uncertainty of the present
life, I dreaded a supposition that shook the foundations of any hope of
relief, from the other side of time.
7. In this strait between light and darkness, as my disturbance was
from my own reasonings, so from the same I sought my relief. By these
I hoped to obtain establishment in the truth, and give answer to all
objections against it. I therefore seriously set myself to search
for demonstrative arguments: and I found them, but found no relief.
The most forcible of them indeed extorted assent, by the absurdity of
the contrary conclusion: but not giving me any satisfying discoveries
of that God, whose existence they obliged me to own, my mind was
not quieted. Nay, and besides, those arguments not dissolving
contrary objections, whenever the light of them was removed, and those
objections came again in view, I was again exceedingly shaken. I was
like him, who reading Plato _of the immortality of the soul_, said,
“While I read, I assent: but I cannot tell how; so soon as I lay down
the book, all my assent is gone.”
8. I still hoped to attain what I had hitherto failed of, by some
farther progress in learning: but all in vain: the farther I went,
the greater was my disappointment; the more difficulties I continually
met with, and found _he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow_.
When this would not avail, then I spent my weary hours in vain wishes
for some extraordinary discoveries. _Nay, but if one rose from the
dead, they will believe._ And this, notwithstanding my disappointment
I gained: I was somewhat beat from that towring opinion of my knowledge
and abilities, which my first seeming success in philosophy gave me,
and brought to a diffidence of myself.
9. But still my corruptions took daily root, and increased in strength
by my weak resistance. Yet I had a fair form of religion: I avoided
all those sins that plainly thwarted the light of my conscience. I
abstained from those evils which even the more serious students gave
into; and kept at a distance from the occasions of them. I was more
exact in attending both public and private prayer, and not without some
concern for my inward frame in them. When I was insnared into any sin
or omission of any duty, I was deeply sorrowful. I had a kindness for
all that feared God, and a pleasure in their converse, especially on
religion. I had frequent tastes of the good word of God, which made me
delight in approaching him. I had many returns to prayer; when under a
deep sense of my impotence, I betook me to God in any strait, I was so
remarkably helped, that I could not but observe it. Hereby God drew me
gradually in, to expect every good gift from above, and encouraged the
very faintest beginnings of a look toward a return.
10. But tho’ by these means I got a name to live, yet was I really
dead. For, 1. My natural darkness still remained, tho’ with some small
dawnings of light. 2. The enmity of my mind against the law of God
was yet untaken away. I had not a respect unto all his commands, nor
a sight of the beauty of holiness: neither did my heart approve of the
whole yoke of Christ, as good and desirable; and I complied with it
in part, not from a delight therein, but because I saw I was undone
without it. 3. I yet _sought righteousness as it were 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. Lastly, my sole
aim was to save myself, without any regard to the glory of God, or
any enquiry how it could consist with it to save one who had so deeply
offended. In a word, all my religion was servile, constrained, and
anti-evangelical.
11. From the foregoing passages I cannot but observe, 1. What a depth
of deceitfulness there is in the heart of man. How many shifts did
mine use to elude the design of all those strivings of the Spirit of
the Lord with me? I have told many, but the one half is not told. And
all these respect but one point in religion. If a single man were to
recount but the more remarkable deceits, with respect to the whole of
his behaviour, how many volumes must he write? And if so many be seen,
how many secret, undiscernable, or at least undiscerned deceits must
still remain! So much truth is there couched in that short scripture,
_The heart is deceitful above all things: who can know it?_
*I observe, 2. How far we may go toward religion, and yet come short
of it. I had and did many things: I heard the scriptures gladly:――I
was _almost persuaded to be a Christian_: I had _escaped the_ outward
_pollutions that are in the world_: yea, I seemed _enlightened, and a
partaker of the heavenly gift_; having many times _tasted the good word
of_ God, _and the powers of the world to come_. I had undergone many
changes; but not the great change: I was not born of God: I was not
begotten anew, and made a child of God through a living faith in Christ
Jesus.
Again, I cannot but look back with wonder at the astonishing patience
of God, which suffered my manners so long, and the steadiness he shewed
in pursuing his work, notwithstanding all my provocations. All the
creation could not have afforded so much forbearance: the disciples of
Christ would have called for fire from heaven: yea, _Moses_ would have
found more here to irritate him than at _Meribah_. Glory be to God,
that we have to do with him, and not with man. His ways are not as our
ways, nor his thoughts as our thoughts: but as the heavens are high
above the earth, so are his ways and thoughts of mercy above ours.
*_Fourthly_, I must bear witness to the reasonableness of God’s way. It
did not destroy my faculties, but improve them. He enlightened my eyes
to see what he would have me to do, and did not force but gradually
persuade me to comply with it. This was not to compel, but gently bend
the will, to the things that were really fit for it to incline to:
nor did he ever oblige me to part with any sin, till he had let me see
it was against my interest as well as duty: and the smallest piece of
compliance with his will, wanted not even a present reward.
_Lastly_, Though this work was agreeable to reason, yet it was far
above the power of nature. I cannot ascribe either its rise or progress
to myself; for it was what I sought not, I thought not of; nay I hated,
and feared and avoided, and shunned and opposed it with all my might.
I cannot ascribe it to any outward means. There are many parts of it
which they did not reach: and as to the rest, the most forcible failed;
the weakest wrought the effect. Neither strong, nor weak had the same
effect always. But the work was still carried on, by a secret and
undiscernable power, like the wind, blowing where it listeth. It bore
the impress of God in all its steps. The word that awakened me, was the
voice of _him who maketh the dead to hear, and calleth the things which
are not, as though they were_. The light that shone was, _the candle
of the_ Lord, tracing an unsearchable heart through all its windings.
It was all the work of one who is every where, who knoweth every thing,
and who will not faint or be discouraged, till he hath brought forth
judgment unto victory. And it was all an uniform work, though variously
carried on, through many interruptions, over many oppositions, for
a long tract of time, by means seemingly weak, improper, contrary,
suitable only for him 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 as a spark in the midst
of the ocean, still kept alive, notwithstanding floods continually
poured upon it. This was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our
eyes.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
_Of the progress of his convictions and temptations._
1. I HAD now a design to go abroad: but on the advice of some friends,
I laid aside that design, and engaged as chaplain to a family.
Accordingly in _August 1696_, I went to the _Wemyss_. When I came
hither, a stranger among persons of considerable quality, I was in a
great strait, and cried to God for help. And though it was my own, more
than his honour, I was concerned for, yet he, who would not overlook
even _Ahab_’s humiliation, did not fail to assist me, so far as to
maintain the respect due to the station I was in.
2. I had not been here long, when I was often engaged (and frequently,
without necessity) in debates about the divinity of the scriptures,
and the most important doctrines therein. This drew me to read the
writings of Deists, that I might know the strength of the enemy. But
I soon perceived, that these foolish questions and contentions were
unprofitable and vain. For evil men and seducers will wax worse and
worse, deceiving and being deceived. And to my sad experience I found,
that their word doth eat as doth a gangrene: so that happy is he who
stops his ears against it!
3. The reading these was of dangerous consequence to one who was not
rooted and grounded in the truth. Their objections I found struck at
the foundations; they were many, new, and set off to the best advantage
by the cunning craftiness of men practised in deceit. Nor was I
acquainted with that vigilance and humble sobriety that were necessary
for my defence against them. The adversary finding all things thus
prepared, set furiously upon me. He wrought up first the natural
atheism, darkness and enmity of my own heart, blasphemously to ask
concerning the great truths of religion, “How can these things be?”
To increase these doubts he employed some who had all the advantages
of nature and education, persons smooth, sober, of generous tempers,
and good understandings, to oppose the truth with the most plausible
appearances of argument and reason. To all this he added his own subtil
suggestions, “Hath God indeed said so?” And sometimes he threw in fiery
darts, to enflame and disorder me; especially, when I was alone, or
most seriously employed in prayer or meditation.
4. By all these ways he assaulted me, both as to the being of God,
as to his providence, and as to the truth both of his revelation
in general, and of many particulars contained in it. Sometimes he
suggested the want of sufficient evidence; at other times, that it was
obscure or hard. Yea, some parts of it were accused as plain blasphemy:
some as contradictory to each other. The great mystery of the gospel
was particularly set upon and represented as foolishness: and for fear
of some or other of those suggestions, it was even a terror to me, to
look into the bible.
5. The subtle enemy, who had so often before tempted me to pride,
now pressed me to a bastard sort of humility. “How can such an one as
you expect to remove difficulties, which so many abler men have sunk
under?” By this I was brought into grievous perplexity. I sought relief
from my own reasonings, from books, and even from prayer, but I found
it not. Then I wished for some extraordinary revelation; and at last
sat down with the sluggard, _folding my hands, and eating my own flesh_.
My own reasonings availed not against him, _who esteems iron as straw,
and brass as rotten wood_. All my books overlooked many of my scruples,
and did not satisfy me as to the rest. And as to extraordinary
expectations, God justly rejected them, seeing I would not hear Moses
and the prophets. So that I had quite sunk under the weight of my
trouble, and been swallowed up of sorrow and despair, had it not
been for some little assistances which the goodness of God gave me,
sometimes one way, sometimes another. When I was urged to reject the
scriptures, it was often seasonably suggested, _To whom shall I go?
These are the words of eternal life._ God powerfully convinced me, and
kept the conviction strong upon my mind, that whenever I parted with
revelation, I must give up all prospect of certainty or satisfaction
about eternal life. The boasted demonstrations of a future happiness,
built only on the light of nature, I had tried long ago, and found
to be altogether weak and inconclusive; though had they been ever
so conclusive, I had been not a whit the nearer satisfaction. For,
to tell me of such a state, without an account of its nature, or
the terms whereon it was attainable, was all one as if nothing had
been said about it, and left my mind in equal confusion. Again, on
a due observation of those who were truly religious, I could not but
even then think them the better part of mankind; and my soul started
at charging all the best of mankind with a lie in a thing of the
greatest importance. On the other hand, God opened my eyes to see the
unaccountable folly of those who had abandoned revealed religion. The
scripture tells them plainly, they must do his will, if they would know
whether the doctrine be of God. But they walk in a direct contradiction
to his will; how then can they know of the doctrine? Nay, some sober,
learned, and otherwise inquisitive persons, owned, that we are already
miserable, if we are either cut off from the hopes of, or left at
uncertainty about a future state of happiness. They owned likewise
themselves to be thus uncertain, and yet were at little or no pains to
be satisfied; yea, I found they rather sought for what might strengthen
their doubts than remove them; which plainly shewed a hatred of the
light.
6. I received further help from considering the lives, but more
especially the deaths of the martyrs. When I considered the number, the
quality, and all the circumstances of those who had been _tortured, not
accepting deliverance_, I could not but own the finger of God, and the
reality of religion. The known instances of its power over children in
their tender years, appeared likewise of great weight; and I began to
get frequent touches of conviction, whereby feeling the piercing virtue
of his word, making manifest the secrets of my heart, I was forced to
own God to be in it of a truth. Lastly, I found a secret hope begot
and cherished I know not how, sometimes even amidst the violence of
temptations, that as God had delivered others from temptations like
mine, (though I doubted, if ever any had been so much molested as I) so
he would deliver me at length; that what I knew not now, I should know
hereafter: that my mouth should yet be filled with his praise: and that
Satan’s rage shewed his time was but short.
7. Hereby I was enabled, not only to persevere, and with more
earnestness, both in public and private duties, but also carefully
to conceal all my straits from others, who might have stumbled at, or
been hardened by them. 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 converse with such as were
shaken, I still stood for the truth, as if I had been under no doubt
about it. And I must own, that while I did so, God often gave me both
success with others, and satisfaction in my own mind. How good a master
is God! A word spoken for him is not lost: nor will he suffer the least
service to be in vain. A Heathen Cyrus, yea Nebuchadnezzar himself,
shall not work without his reward.
8. Before I proceed, I must observe the folly of reasoning with Satan;
whenever I did so, he had still great advantage: he easily evaded all
my arguments, and enforced his own suggestions: and even when they were
not maintained by argument, he injected them so strongly, that I was
not able to stand against them: our safest course is to hold him at a
distance, and avoid all communion with him. *I must observe likewise,
the wise providence of God, that the greatest difficulties against
religion are hid from Atheists. None of the objections they make are
near so subtle as those which were often suggested to me. Indeed they
do not view religion near enough, to see either the difficulties, or
the advantages that attend it. And the devil finding them quiet, keeps
them so, not using force, where he can do his work without it. Besides,
God, in his infinite wisdom, permits, not all these subtleties of hell
to be published, in tenderness to the faith of the weak, which could
not bear so severe an assault.
9. I lay under many inconveniences all this while. Most of the converse
I had was with unholy men. I had no friend to whom I could impart my
griefs with freedom, or any prospect of satisfaction. And the entire
concealing my concern made it fasten more and more, and drink up
my blood and spirits. I laid aside my studies; I could not pursue
either business or diversion: I had no heart to any thing; I could
not read, unless now and then a small portion of scripture, or some
other practical book (except when, for a short space, there was an
intermission of my trouble.) For near a year and a half I read scarce
any thing; and this slothful posture laid me open to fresh temptations,
and made my corruptions grow stronger still.
10. Yet even now, God minding his own work, by the means of his word,
brought the law, in its spiritual meaning, nearer. And then I found
more discernibly the stirrings of sin, which taking occasion from the
commandment, and being fretted at the light let into my soul, wrought
in me all manner of concupiscence. Hereby I was plunged into deeper
guilt; _My iniquities went over my head_; and my conscience was so
alarmed, _that I found no rest in my bones by reason of my sin_.
11. I still laboured for rest, either by extenuating my faults,
pleading the strength of temptation, (sometimes not without secret
reflections upon God) or by trying to persuade myself they were no
faults at all. When all these failed, I made new vows and resolutions;
and _November 23, 1697_, (a day I had set apart for fasting and prayer)
I drew up a short account of my treacherous dealing with God from my
youth up, and solemnly bound myself to him for the time to come.
12. But tho’ by this means I was kept from open pollutions; tho’ I was
careful of outward duties; received the word with joy; watched against
pride of heart, unbelief, and other spiritual evils; though I fasted,
prayed, mourned, and was much in secret; yea, strove against all sins,
even those I loved best; yet all this was only a form of religion,
the power of which I was still a stranger to. I was a stranger to
that blessed relief of sinners, faith imputed for righteousness.
Though I professed to believe it, I was really in the dark, as to its
glorious efficacy, tendency and design. Still my eye was not single;
I regarded only myself, and not the glory of God. It was still by some
righteousness of my own, in whole or in part, that I sought relief.
Though I did part with my beloved sins, yet it was neither without
reluctance, nor without some secret reserve. Lastly, My heart was
utterly averse from all spiritual religion: and if I sometimes aimed
at fixing my mind on heavenly things; yet it was soon weary of this
forcible bent, and it seemed intolerable to think of being always
spiritual.
13. I was now reduced to the last extremity. My sins were set in order
before me, and had taken such hold upon me, that I was not able to
look up. They were set in order in the dreadfulness of their nature and
aggravations; my excuses baffled, and _my mouth stopped before_ God.
All the ways I had taken for my relief had deceived me; they were the
staff of a broken reed; they pierced my arm when I essayed to lean upon
them; and _I was ashamed, and even confounded, that I had hoped_. The
wrath of God was likewise dropped into my soul, and _the poison of his
arrows drunk up my spirits_. Add to this, that I was still unsatisfied
about religion, and my enemies often told me, that even in God there
was no succour for me. Yea, sometimes Satan, to entangle me the more,
assaulted all the truths of religion at once; and then I was utterly
confounded, when the Lord commanded that my enemies should close me in
on every side.
14. By the extremity of this anguish, I was for some time, about the
end of ninety-seven, and the beginning of ninety-eight, dreadfully cast
down. I was weary of my life. Oft did I use _Job_’s words, _I loath it,
I would not live alway_. And yet I was afraid to die. I had no rest;
_My sore ran in the day, and in the night time it ceased not_. At night
I wished for day, and in the day I wished for night. I said, _My couch
shall comfort me; but then darkness was as the shadow of death_. I was
often on the brink of despair. _He filled me with bitterness, he made
me drunk with wormwood. He removed my soul far from peace: I forgat
prosperity. I said my hope and my strength are perished from the Lord._
I wondered that I was not consumed; and though I dreaded destruction
from the Almighty, yet I must have justified him if he had destroyed
me. Thus I walked about dejected, weary and heavy laden: weary of my
disease, and weary of my vain remedies; and utterly uncertain what to
do next, or what course to take.
CHAPTER II.
_Of his deliverance from these temptations._