A VERY poor child, of the parish of Newington-Butts, came to the door of
a friend of mine, in a very lamentable case: it pleased God to raise in
the heart of my friend a great pity and tenderness toward him: so that
he took him out of the streets, who had nothing at all to commend him to
any one's charity but his misery. My friend, seeking the glory of God,
discharged the parish of the child, and took him as his own; yet there
seemed to be little hopes of doing good upon him, for he was a very
monster of wickedness, and a thousand times more miserable and vile by
his sin than by his poverty. He was running to hell as fast as he could
go, and was old in vice when he was but young in years: we scarcely hear
of one so like the devil in his infancy as was this poor child. What sin
was there that his age was capable of, which he did not commit? What by
the corruption of his nature, and the abominable example of little
beggar boys, he was indeed arrived at a great pitch of impiety. He would
call names, take God's name in vain, curse, swear, and do all kinds of
mischief; and as to any thing of God, he was worse than a heathen.
2. No sooner had this good man taken this creature into his house but he
prayed for him, and laboured with all his might to convince him of his
miserable condition by nature, and to teach him something of God, the
worth of his own soul, and that eternity of glory or misery to which he
was bound. And, blessed be God, it was not long before the Lord was
pleased to let him understand that it was himself who put into his heart
to take in this child. The Lord soon blessed his instructions, so that
an amazing change was seen. In the space of a few weeks he was convinced
of the evil of his ways; no more calling of names, swearing or cursing,
no more taking of the Lord's name in vain. His company, his talk, his
employment, were changed, and he was like another creature.
3. And this change was not only an external one, but he would get by
himself, and weep and mourn bitterly for his wicked life.
4. He was still more and more broken under a sense of his undone state
by nature; often in tears, and bemoaning his lost and miserable
condition. When his master spoke of the things of God, he listened
earnestly, and took in with much eagerness and affection, what he was
taught. There was seldom any discourse about religion in his hearing,
but he heard as though it were for his life.
5. Thus he continued seeking after the knowledge of God, till the
sickness came into the house, with which he was smitten. At his first
sickening the poor child was greatly amazed and afraid; and though his
pains were great, and the distemper very tedious; nevertheless, the
sense of his sins, and the thought of the condition that his soul was
still in, made his trouble ten times greater.
6. He was in grievous agonies of spirit; his former sins stared him in
the face, and made him tremble. The poison of God's arrows did even
drink up his spirits; the sense of sin and of wrath were so great that
he knew not what to do. The weight of God's displeasure, and the thought
of lying under it to all eternity, broke him even to pieces, and he
bitterly cried out, "What shall I do! I am a miserable sinner, and I
fear that I shall go to hell." His sins had been so great and so many,
that there was no hope for him. He was not by far so much concerned for
his life as for his soul: what would become of that for ever. Now the
plague upon his body seemed nothing to that which was in his soul.
7. He not only cried out against his swearing, lying, and other outward
notorious sins; but was in great horror for the sin of his nature; the
vileness and original corruption of his heart. For this he was in so
great anguish that the trouble of his spirit made him forget the pain of
his body.
8. He very particularly confessed and bewailed his sins, and some sins
so secret that none in the world could charge him with.
9. He would ask others whether they thought there were any hopes for
him, and would beg of them to deal plainly with him; for he was greatly
afraid of being deceived.
10. Being informed how willing and ready the Lord Jesus Christ was to
accept of poor sinners, and being counselled to venture himself upon
Christ for mercy and salvation, he said he would fain cast himself upon
Christ, but he could not but wonder how Christ should die for such a
vile wretch as he was, and he found it one of the hardest things in the
world to believe.
11. But at last it pleased the Lord to give him some hope that there
might be mercy for him, the chief of sinners; and he was enabled to lay
hold upon that, "Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and
I will give you rest." Nor was it long before he was full of praise and
admiration of God; so that, to speak in the words of one that was an eye
and ear witness, he was so full of joy and praise that he longed for
heaven.
12. He now grew exceedingly in knowledge, experience, patience,
humility, and self-abhorrence. He prayed before, but now the Lord poured
out upon him the spirit of prayer in an extraordinary manner; so that
now he prayed more frequently, more earnestly, more spiritually than
ever. O how eagerly would he beg to be washed in the blood of Jesus! And
that the King of kings, and Lord of lords, who was over heaven and
earth, would pardon and forgive him all his sins, and receive his soul
into his kingdom. And what he spoke was with so much life and fervour of
spirit, that it filled the hearers with astonishment and joy.
13. He had no small sense of the use and excellence of Christ, and such
longings and breathings of his soul after him, that when mention has
been made of Christ, he hath been ready to leap out of his bed for joy.
14. The Wednesday before he died, he lay in a trance for about half an
hour, in which time he thought he saw a vision of angels. When he was
out of his trance, he asked his nurse why she did not let him go? "Go!
whither?" said she; "Why, along with those lovely gentlemen," said he;
"but they told me they would come and fetch me away upon Friday." And he
repeated these words many times, "Upon Friday next those lovely
gentlemen will come for me."
15. He was very thankful to his master, and very sensible of his great
kindness in taking him out of the streets when begging, and he admired
the goodness of God, which put it into the mind of a stranger: said he,
"I hope to see you in heaven, for I am sure you will go thither. O
blessed, blessed be God, that made you to take pity upon me; for I might
have died, and have gone to the devil, and been damned for ever, if it
had not been for you."
16. The Thursday before he died, he asked a friend of mine what he
thought of his condition, and whither his soul was going? for he said he
could not still but fear, lest he should deceive himself with false
hopes. At which my friend spoke to him thus:--"If thou art but willing
to accept of Christ, thou mayest have Christ, and all that thou dost
want with him. Thou sayest thou fearest that Christ will not accept of
thee! I fear that thou art not heartily willing to accept of him." The
child answered, "Indeed I am." "Why, then, if thou art unfeignedly
willing to have Christ, I tell thee he is a thousand times more willing
to have thee, and wash thee, and save thee. And now at this time, Christ
offers himself to thee again; therefore, receive him humbly by faith
into thy heart, and bid him welcome, for he deserveth it." Upon which
words the Lord discovered his love to the child; and he gave a kind of
leap in his bed, and snapped his finger and thumb together with
abundance of joy. And from that time forward, in full joy and assurance
of God's love, he continued earnestly praising God, desiring to die, and
to be with Christ. And on Friday morning he sweetly went to rest, using
that expression, "Into thy hands, O Lord, I commit my spirit!" being not
much above nine years old.