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THE Power of Religion ON THE MIND, IN RETIREMENT, SICKNESS, AND AT DEATH; EXEMPLIFIED IN THE TESTIMONIES AND EXPERIENCE Of MEN distinguished by their GREATNESS, LEARNING, OR VIRTUE.

A NEW EDITION.

PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED AND SOLD BY JOSEPH CRUKSHANK, IN MARKET NEAR THIRD STREET. MDCCXC.

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INTRODUCTION.

THE following small collection was made, and is now produced, with a view to excite serious reflections on the unsatisfying and transitory na­ture of temporal enjoyments; and to promote a fervent concern for the at­tainment of that felicity which will be sure, complete, and permanent.

Piety and virtue, even when ab­stractedly considered, are truly amia­ble, and appear worthy of our earnest pursuit; but, when recommended by the lives and testimonies of eminent persons, who have known the world, and experienced the emptiness of its honors, wealth, and pleasures, they derive additional weight, and constrain us to acknowledge, that indeed it is our greatest happiness to be religious.

It is one of the many favors which a wise and gracious Providence hath conferred upon mankind, that in every country, and perhaps in almost every district throughout the earth, he has [Page iv] stationed some of his faithful servants, or returning prodigals, as witnesses of his power and goodness, and as encou­ragers to a life of true purity, piety, and beneficence.

The following pages exhibit a few of those striking examples, which, in the quiet hour of reflection, may con­tribute to arrest the careless and wan­dering, to animate the sincere and con­cerned, and to convince or discounte­nance those who have been unhappily led to oppose the highest truths, and to forsake the fountain of all their bles­sings.

May the consideration of these in­stances lead us to serious and timely reflections on our own condition, and to a profitable communion with the greatest and best of Beings, our divine and unerring Monitor; by which we shall experience a growing concern, that the end of our existence may be fully answered, and the favour of an Almighty Friend secured. May his gracious protection be witnessed at the close of our day, when the shadows of [Page v] the evening shall approach, the glitter­ing vanities of the world be obscured, and all its friendships and resources be found unavailing.

In that awful hour, this great sup­port will not only preserve us from be­ing distressed with mournful retrospects on the past, or with gloomy apprehen­sions of what is to come, but will af­ford the truest consolation of mind, and enable us to look forward, with animating hope, toward those happy regions of peace and joy, which shall then be allotted for our perpetual in­heritance.

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CONTENTS.

Solomon.—Ignatius.—Justin Martyr.— Emperor Charles the Fifth.—Cardi­nal Wolsey.—Sir Philip Sidney.— Secretary Walsingham.—Sir John Mason.—Sir Walter Raleigh.—Lou­is, Duke of Orleans.—Sir Henry Wotton.—Sir Christopher Hatton.— Philip the Third, King of Spain.— Gondamor, the King of Spain's Am­bassador.—Cardinal Richlieu.—Car­dinal Mazarine.—Sir Thomas Smith, Secretary of State.—Oxenstiern, Chancellor of Sweden.—Doctor Donne.—Selden.—Grotius.—Sal­masius.—A. Rivetus.—Francis Ju­nius.—Sir Henry Vane.—Admiral Penn.—Howard.—Princess Eliza­beth.—Bulstrode Whitlock.—Antho­ny Lowther.—Earl of Essex.—Sir Robert Boyle.—Sir Isaac Newton.— John Locke.—Joseph Addison.— Henry, Prince of Wales.—Earl of Rochester.—James Hervey.—Lord Harrington.—Villiers, Duke of Buck­ingham. [Page viii] —Col. Gardiner.—Duncan Forbes, President of Scotland.— Chief Justice Hale.—Earl of Marl­borough.—Conclusion.

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THE Power of Religion, &c.

THE wise KING SOLOMON, who, at one season of his life, had flattered himself with great enjoyments from the world; and who, better than most men, could compute their amount, gives us the result of his experience in these memorable lines: ‘I said in my heart, I will prove thee with mirth, therefore enjoy pleasure: and behold, this also is vanity. I said of laugh­ter, it is mad; and of mirth, what doth it? I made me great works, builded houses, planted vineyards, made gardens and orchards, planted trees in them of all kind of fruit; I got me servants and maidens, also great possessions: I gathered me sil­ver and gold, and the peculiar trea­sures of kings and provinces; also [Page 10] men and women singers, and the de­lights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jeru­salem, and whatsoever mine eyes de­sired, I kept not from them: I with­held not mine heart from any joy. Then I looked on the works which my hands had wrought, and behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit.’ After this representation, he concludes all with, ‘Fear God, and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man: for God shall bring every work into judgment, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.’

IGNATIUS, who lived within the first hundred years after Christ (and who was torn in pieces by wild beasts at Rome, for his religion) left this say­ing, amongst others worthy of attenti­on, behind him: ‘There is nothing better than the peace of a good con­science:’ [Page 11] intimating, there might be a peace to wicked consciences, that are past feeling any thing to be evil, being hardened in the wickedness of the world. And in his epistle to the churches at Ephesus, Magnesia, Tral­lis, and Rome, upon his martyrdom, he triumphantly says, ‘Now I begin to be a disciple, I weigh neither visi­ble nor invisible things, so that I may gain Christ.’

JUSTIN MARTYR, a philosopher, who received Christianity five and twenty years after the death of Ignati­us, declares in the relation of his con­version to the Christian faith, ‘That the power of godliness in a plain, simple Christian, had that influence and operation on his soul, that he could not but betake himself to a se­rious and strict life:’ and yet, before, he was a Cynic, a rigid sect: and it gave him joy at his martyrdom, that he had spent his days as a serious [Page 12] teacher, and a good example. Euse­bius relates of him, ‘That though he was also a follower of Plato's doc­trine, yet when he saw the Christi­ans' piety and courage, he conclud­ed, No people so temperate, less vo­luptuous, and more set on divine things;’ which first induced him to become a Christian.

CHARLES V. Emperor of Germa­ny, King of Spain, and Lord of the Netherlands, after three and twenty pitched battles, six triumphs, four king­doms conquered, and eight principali­ties added to his dominions (a greater instance than whom can scarce be gi­ven) resigned up all his pomp to other hands, and betook himself to a retire­ment; leaving this testimony behind him respecting the life he spent in the honors and pleasures of the world, and that little time of his retreat from them all; ‘That the sincere study, professi­on, and practice, of the Christian re­ligion, [Page 13] had in it such joys and sweet­ness, as courts were strangers to.’

CARDINAL WOLSEY, the most ab­solute and wealthy Minister of State England ever had, and who in his time seemed to govern Europe as well as England, when come to the period of his life, left the world with this close reflection upon himself: ‘Had I been as diligent to serve my God, as I have been to please my king, he would not have left me now in my gray hairs.’ A dismal reflection for all wordly-minded men; but for those more especially, who have the power and means of doing more than ordinary good in the world, and do it not, which seems to have been the melancholy case and reflection of this great man.

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Sir PHILIP SIDNEY, a subject in­deed of England, but who, it is said, was chosen king of Poland; whom Queen Elizabeth called her Philip; the Prince of Orange, his master; whose friendship the Lord Brooks was so proud of, that he would have it part of his epitaph, ‘Here lies Sir Philip Sid­ney's friend;’ whose death was la­mented in verse by the then kings of France and Scotland, and the two uni­versities of England; repented so much at his death, of that witty vanity of his life, his Arcadia, that, to prevent the unlawful kindling of heats in others, he would have committed it to the flames himself. He left this farewel amongst his friends: ‘Love my memo­ry, cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure you that they are ho­nest; but above all, govern your wills and affections by the will and word of your Creator. In me be­hold the end of this world, and all its vanities.’ And indeed, he was not much mistaken in saying so, since in him was to be seen the insufficiency [Page 15] of all natural parts, acquired learning, and civil accomplishments. His fare­wel seems spoken without terror, with a clear sense, and sound judgment.

SECRETARY WALSINGHAM, an extraordinary man in Queen Elizabeth's time, towards the conclusion of his days, in a letter to his fellow-Secretary Burleigh, then Lord Treasurer of Eng­land, writes thus: ‘We have lived enough to our country, our fortunes, our sovereign: it is high time we be­gin to live to ourselves, and to our God.’ Which giving occasion for some eourt-droll to visit, and try to di­vert him, 'Ah!' said he, ‘while we laugh, all things are serious round about us; God is serious when he preserveth us, and hath patience to­wards us; Christ is serious when he dieth for us; the Holy Ghost is seri­ous when he striveth with us; the whole creation is serious in serving God and us: they are serious in hell [Page 16] and in heaven; and shall a man that hath one foot in his grave jest and laugh?’

A strong testimony to the superior excellency of religion, and to the va­nity and emptiness of worldly enjoy­ments, is given by Sir JOHN MASON, who, though but 63 years old at his death, yet had flourished in the reigns of four princes (Henry VIII. Edward VI. Queens Mary and Elizabeth) had been Privy Councillor to them all, and an eye-witness of the various revolutions and vicissitudes of those times. To­wards his latter end, being on his death-bed, he spoke thus to those about him, ‘I have lived to see five Princes, and have been privy councillor to four of them. I have seen the most remarkable things in foreign parts, and have been present at most state transactions for thirty years together; and I have learned this after so many years' experience; that seriousness is [Page 17] the greatest wisdom, temperance the best physic, and a good conscience the best estate; and were I to live again, I would change the court for a cloister, my Privy Councillor's bus­tle for an Hermit's retirement, and the whole life I have lived in the pa­lace for an hour's enjoyment of God in the chapel.’

‘All things else forsake me, besides my God, my duty, and my pray­ers.’

Sir WALTER RALEIGH is an emi­nent instance, being as extraordinary a man as this nation hath produced: in his person, well descended; of health, strength, and masculine beauty; in understanding, quick; in judgment, sound; learned and wise, valiant and skilful; an historian, a philosopher, a general, a statesman. After a long life, full of experience, he drops these excellent sayings a little before his death, to his son, to his wife, and to [Page 18] the world, viz. ‘Exceed not in the humour of rags and bravery; for these will soon wear out of fashion, and no man is esteemed for gay gar­ments, but by fools. On the other side, seek not riches basely, nor at­tain them by evil means: destroy no man for his wealth, nor take any thing from the poor; for the cry thereof will pierce the heavens; and it is most detestable before God, and most dishonorable before worthy men, to wrest any thing from the needy and laboring soul: God will never prosper thee, if thou offendest there­in; but use thy poor neighbours and tenants well.’ A most worthy say­ing. But he adds, ‘Have compassion on the poor and afflicted, and God will bless thee for it: make not the hungry soul sorrowful; for if he curse thee in the bitterness of his soul, his prayer shall be heard of him that made him. Now, for the world, dear child, I know it too well to persuade thee to dive into the practices of it: rather stand upon thy own guard [Page 19] against all those that tempt thee to it, or may practise upon thee, whether in thy conscience, thy reputation, or thy estate. Resolve that no man is wise or safe, but he that is honest. Serve God; let him be the author of all thy actions; commend all thy en­deavours to him that must either wi­ther or prosper them: please him with prayer; lest if he frown, he confound all thy fortune and labor, like the drops of rain upon the sandy ground. Let my experienced advice and fatherly instructions sink deep in­to thy heart: so God direct thee in all thy ways, and fill thy heart with his grace.’

Sir WALTER RALEIGH'S Letter to his Wife after his Condemnation.

You shall receive, my dear wife, my last words in these my last lines. My love I send you; that you may keep when I am dead; and my coun­sel, that you may remember it when I am no more. I would not, with my [Page 20] will, present you sorrows, dear wife; let them go to the grave with me, and be buried in the dust: and, seeing that it is not the will of God that I shall see you any more, bear my destruction patiently, and with an heart like your­self. First, I send you all the thanks which my heart can conceive, or my words express, for your many travails and cares for me; which, though they have not taken effect, as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the less; but pay it I never shall in this world. Se­condly, I beseech you, for the love you bear me living, that you do not hide yourself many days; but by your tra­vails seek to help my miserable for­tunes, and the right of your poor child: your mourning cannot avail me who am but dust. Thirdly, you shall understand, that my lands were con­veyed, bona fide, to my child; the writings were drawn at Midsummer was a twelvemonth, as divers can wit­ness; and I trust my blood will quench their malice who desired my slaughter, that they will not seek to kill you and [Page 21] your's with extreme poverty. To what friend to direct you, I know not, for all mine have left me in the true time of trial: most sorry am I, that, being surprised by death, I can leave you no better estate; God hath prevented all my determinations; that great God, which worketh all in all. If you can live free from want, care for no more, for the rest is but vanity. Love God, and [...] times; in him shall you find [...], and endless comfort: when you have travailed and wearied yourself with all sorts of worldly cogi­gitations, you shall sit down by sorrow in the end. Teach your son also to fear and serve God, whilst he is young, that the fear of God may grow up in in him; then will God be an husband to you, and a father to him; an hus­band and a father that can never be ta­ken from you. Dear wife, I beseech you, for my soul's sake, pay all poor men. When I am dead, no doubt but you will be much sought unto; for the world thinks I was very rich: have a care of the fair pretences of men; for [Page 22] no greater misery can befal you in this life, than to become a prey unto the world, and after to be despised. As for me, I am no more your's, nor you mine: death has cut us asunder, and God hath divided me from the world, and you from me. Remember your poor child, for his father's sake, who loved you in his happiest state. I sued for my life, but God knows, it was for you and your's that I desired it: for know it, my dear wife, your child is the child of a true man, who in his own respect despiseth death, and his mishapen and ugly forms. I can­not write much; God knows how hardly I steal this time, when all are asleep: and it is also time for me to sepa­rate my thoughts from the world. Beg my dead body, which living was deni­ed you; and either lay it in Sherborne, or in Exeter church, by my father and mother.

I can say no more; time and death call me away. The everlasting God, powerful, infinite, and inscrutable; God Almighty, who is goodness itself, [Page 23] the true light and life, keep you and your's, and have mercy upon me, and forgive my persecutors and false accu­sers, and send us to meet in his glori­ous kingdom. My dear wife, farewel! bless my boy, pray for me, and let my true God hold you both in his arms.

Your's that was, but not now mine own, WALTER RALEIGH.

Behold wisdom, resolution, nature, and grace! how strong in argument, wise in counsel, firm, affectionate, and devout. O that heroes and politicians would make him their example in his death, as well as magnify the great ac­tions of his life! Doubtless, had he been to live over his days again, with his experience, he had made less noise, and yet done more good to the world and himself. It is a sorrowful reflec­tion, that men hardly come to know themselves, or the world, till they are ready to leave it.

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LOUIS, Duke of Orleans, thus ex­pressed the delight he found in piety and devotion. ‘I know by experi­ence, that sublunary grandeur and sublunary pleasure, are delusive and vain, and are always infinitely below the conceptions we form of them: but on the contrary, such happiness, and such complacency may be found in devotion and piety, as the sensual mind has no idea of.’

Sir HENRY WOTTON thought it the greatest happiness of his life, ‘To be at leisure to be, and to do, good.’ Toward his end, when he reflected on past times, he was used to say, though a man esteemed sober and learned, ‘How much time have I to repent of, and how little to do it in!’

Sir CHRISTOPHER HATTON, a lit­tle before his death, advised his relati­ons [Page 25] to be serious in the search after ‘The will of God in the holy word: for,' said he, 'it is deservedly ac­counted a piece of excellent know­ledge to understand the law of the land, and the customs of a man's country: how much more so to know the statutes of heaven, and the laws of eternity, those immutable and e­ternal laws of justice and righteous­ness; to know the will and pleasure of the great Monarch and universal King of the world: I have seen an end of all perfection, but thy com­mandments, O God, are exceeding broad.’

Whatever other knowledge a man may be endued with, could he by a vast and penetrating mind, comprehend all the knowledge of art and nature, of words and things; could he attain a mastery in all languages, and sound the depth of all arts and sciences; could he discourse of the interest of all states, the intrigues of all courts, the reason of all civil laws and constituti­ons, and give an account of all histo­ries; [Page 26] and yet not know the author of his being, and the preserver of his life, his sovereign, and his judge; his surest refuge in trouble; his best friend, or worst enemy; the support of his life, and the hope of his death, his future happiness, and his portion for ever; he doth but, with a great deal of know­ledge, go down to destruction.

PHILIP the THIRD, King of Spain, seriously reflecting upon the life he had lived, cried out upon his death-bed; ‘Ah! how happy were I, had I spent these twenty-three years, that I have held my kingdom, in a retirement.’ Declaring to his confessor, ‘My con­cern is for my soul, not for my body. I lay all that God has given me, my dominion, power, and my life, at the feet of Jesus Christ my Savi­our.’

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GONDAMOR, Ambassador in Eng­land from that King, and held the a­blest man of his time, took great free­dom as to his religion, in his politics, serving his ends by those ways that would best accomplish them. Towards his latter end, he grew very thoughtful of his past life, and after all his nego­tiations and successes in business, said to one of his friends, ‘I fear nothing in the world more than sin;’ often declaring, ‘He had rather endure hell than sin;’ so clear and strong were his convictions, and so exceeding sinful did sin appear to him, upon a serious consideration of his ways.

CARDINAL RICHLIEU, after he had given law to all Europe for many years, confessed to old Peter de Mou­lin, the famous French Protestant, ‘That, being forced upon many irre­gularities, by that which they call rea­son of state, he could not tell how to satisfy his conscience for several [Page 28] things, and therefore had many temp­tations to doubt and disbelieve a God, another world, and the immortality of the soul, thereby to relieve his mind from any disquiet, but in vain; so strong,' he said, 'was the notion of God on his soul, so clear the im­pression of him upon the frame of the world, so unanimous the consent of mankind, so powerful the convic­tions of his own conscience, that he could not but taste the power of the world to come, and so live as one that must die, and so die, as one that must live for ever.’ And being asked one day, 'Why he was so sad?' he answered, ‘The soul is a serious thing, it must be either sad here for a moment, or be sad for ever.’

CARDINAL MAZARINE, was repu­ted the most cunning statesman of his time, and gave great proofs of it in the successes of the French crown under his ministry. His aim was the gran­deur of the world, to which he made [Page 29] all other considerations submit: but, poor man! he was of another mind a little before his death: for, being awa­kened by the smart lashes of consci­ence, which represented his soul's con­dition to be very dismal, with astonish­ment and tears he cried out, ‘O my poor soul, what will become of thee? Whither wilt thou go?’ And spake one day thus to the Queen Mother of France; ‘Madam, your favors have undone me: were I to live again, I would be a capuchin, rather than a courtier.’

Sir THOMAS SMITH, Secretary of State to Queen Elizabeth, a quarter of a year before his death, sent to his friends, the Bishops of Winchester and Worcester, and intreated them to draw him, out of the word of God, the plainest and exactest way of making his peace with him; adding, ‘That it was great pity, men considered not for what end they were born into the [Page 30] world, till they were ready to go out of it.’

OXENSTIERN, Chancellor of Swe­den, was a person of the first quality, station, and ability in his own country; and his share and success, not only in the chief ministry of affairs in that kingdom, but in the greatest negotia­tions of Europe, during his time, made him no less considerable abroad. Be­ing visited in his retreat from public business, by Commissioner Whitlock, Ambassador from England to Queen Christina, in the conclusion of their discourse, he said to the Ambassador, ‘I have seen much and enjoyed much of this world, but I never knew how to live till now. I thank my good God, who has given me time to know him, and to know myself. All the comfort I have, and which is more than the whole world can give, is—feeling the good Spirit of God in my heart, and reading in this good [Page 31] book (holding up the bible) that came from it.’ And further addressed him­self thus to the Ambassador: ‘You are now in the prime of your age and vigor, and in great favor and business; but all this will leave you, and you will one day better under­stand and relish what I say to you; and then you will find that there is more wisdom, truth, comfort, and pleasure, in retiring and turning our heart from the world, to the good Spirit of God, and in reading the bible, than in all the courts and fa­vors of princes.’ This I had, says W. Penn, as near as I am able to re­member, from the Ambassador's own mouth, more than once. A very edi­fying account, when we consider from whom it came; one of the greatest and wisest men of his age, while his un­derstanding was as sound and vigorous, as his experience and knowledge were great.

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DOCTOR DONNE, a person of great parts and learning, being upon his death-bed, and taking his solemn fare­wel of his friends, made this weighty declaration to them: ‘I repent of all my life, but that part of it which I spent in communion with God, and in doing good.’

SELDEN, one of the greatest scho­lars and antiquaries of his time, and one who had taken a diligent survey of what knowledge was possessed by the Jews, Heathens, and Christians; at last, toward the end of his days, in a conference with Bishop Usher, declar­ed, ‘That notwithstanding he had been so laborious in his inquiries, and curious in his collections, and had possest himself of a treasure of books and manuscripts upon all an­cient subjects; yet he could rest his soul on none, save the scriptures:’ and above all, that passage lay most remarkably upon his spirit, Titus ii. 11, [Page 33] 12, 13, 14, 15. ‘For the grace of God that bringeth salvation, hath appeared unto all men; teaching us, that denying ungodliness and world­ly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this pre­sent world; looking for that blessed hope and glorious appearing of the great God, and our Saviour Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.’ And, indeed, it is one of the most comprehensive passages in the scriptures; for it comprises the end, means, and recompense of Christian­ity.

HUGO GROTIUS is much celebrated for his great learning and universal knowledge: 'a light,' say the states­men; 'a light,' say the churchmen too; witness his Annals, and his book, De Jure Belli et Pacis; also his Christi­an [Page 34] Religion, and elaborate Commenta­ries. After all, he winds up his life and choice in this remarkable saying; ‘I would give all my learning and ho­nor for the plain integrity of John Urick:’ who was a religious poor man, that spent eight hours of his time in prayer, eight in labor, and but eight in meals, sleep, and other neces­saries. And to one that admired his great industry, he returned this by way of complaint: ‘Ah! I have con­sumed my life in laboriously doing nothing.’ And to another, that in­quired of his wisdom and learning, what course to take—he solemnly an­swered, 'Be serious.'

SALMASIUS, a famous French scho­lar, after his many volumes of learn­ing, by which he had acquired great veneration among men of books, con­fessed that he had mistaken true learn­ing, and that in which solid happiness consisted, and exclaimed thus against [Page 35] himself: ‘Oh! I have lost a world of time; time, that most precious thing in the world! whereof, had I but one year more, it should be spent in David's psalms, and Paul's epistles. Oh! Sirs, said he to those about him, mind the world less, and God more: ‘The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil, that is understanding.’

A. RIVETUS was a man of great understanding, and much reverenced in the Dutch nation. After a long life of study in search of divine know­ledge, being on his death-bed, and conversing upon heavenly things, he brake forth in this manner: ‘God has taught me more of himself in ten days sickness, than I could obtain by all my labor and studies.’ Plain and simple are the means to the knowledge of God and his holy will, when we come to be in earnest, and our hearts are sincerely concerned to know and [Page 36] obey it; ‘The wayfaring man, tho' a fool (in the world's wisdom) shall not err therein.’

FRANCIS JUNIUS, an ingenious person, who hath written his own life, as he was reading Tully de Legibus, fell into a persuasion, Nihil curare De­um, nec sui, nec alieni; till in a tumult at Lyons, the Lord wonderfully deli­vered him from imminent death; so that he was forced to acknowledge a divine Providence therein: and his fa­ther hearing of the dangerous ways that his son was misled into, sent for him home, where he carefully and pi­ously instructed him, and caused him to read over the New Testament, of which himself writes thus: ‘When I opened the New Testament, I first lighted upon John's first chapter, ‘In the beginning was the word, &c.’ I read part of the chapter, and was suddenly convinced, that the divinity of the argument; and [Page 37] the majesty and authority of the writing did very much excel all the eloquence of human writings: my body trembled, my mind was asto­nished, and was so affected all that day, that I knew not where and what I was. Thou wast mindful of me, O my God, according to the multi­tude of thy mercies, and calledst home thy lost sheep into the fold.’ And, as Justin Martyr of old, so he of late declared, ‘That the power of godliness in a plain, simple Christian, wrought so upon him, that he could not but take up a strict and a serious life.’

Sir HENRY VANE possessed abilities of the first rate, and an extensive know­ledge of mankind. In his youth, he was much addicted to company, and promised little to business; but reading a book called The Signs of a Godly Man, and being convicted in himself that they were just, but that he had no [Page 38] share in any one of them, he fell into such extreme anguish and horror, that for some days and nights he took little food or rest. This at once dissolved his old friendships, and made those religi­ous impressions and resolutions, which neither university, courts, princes, nor parents, nor any losses nor disappoint­ments that threatened his new course of life, could weaken or alter. And tho' this laid him under some disadvan­tages for a time, yet his great integrity and abilities broke thro' that obscurity; so that those of very different senti­ments did not only admire him, but very often desired him to accept the most eminent negotiations of his coun­try; which he served, according to his own principles, with great success, and a remarkable self-denial. This great man's maxim was, ‘Religion is the best master, and the best friend; for it makes men wise, and will never leave them, that never leave it;’ which he found true in himself: for as it made him wiser than those that had been his teachers, so it made him firmer [Page 39] than any hero, having something more than nature to support him; which was the judgment, as well of foreign­ers, as of others, who had the curiosi­ty to see him die: Making good some meditations of his own, viz. ‘The day of death is the judge of all our other days; the very trial and touch­stone of the actions of our lives. It is the end that crowns the work, and a good death honoreth a man's whole life. The fading corruption and loss of this life is the passage into a bet­ter. Death is no less essential to us, than to live, or to be born. In fly­ing death, thou fliest thyself; thy es­sence is equally parted into these two, life and death. It is no small re­proach to a Christian, whose faith is in immortality, and the blessedness of another life, to fear death much, which is the necessary passage there­unto.’

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ADMIRAL PENN, after thirty years employment in several places of emi­nent trust and honor, upon serious re­flection, not long before his death, spoke to one of his sons in this man­ner: ‘Son William, I am weary of the world; I would not live over my days again, if I could command them with a wish; for the snares of life are greater than the fears of death. This troubles me, that I have offend­ed a gracious God, who has followed me to this day. O, have a care of sin! That is the sting both of life and death. Three things I commend to you: First, let nothing in this world tempt you to wrong your con­science; I charge you, do nothing against your conscience: so will you keep peace at home, which will be a feast to you in the day of trouble. Secondly, whatever you design to do, lay it justly, and time it seasonably; for that gives security and despatch. Lastly, be not troubled at disappoint­ments; for if they may be recovered, do it; if they cannot, trouble is vain. [Page 41] If you could not have helped it, be content: there is often peace and profit in submitting to Providence; for afflictions make wise. If you could have helped it, let not your trouble exceed instruction for another time. These rules will carry you with firmness and comfort thro' this inconstant world.’

A noble young man of the family of HOWARD, having in health too much yielded to the temptations of youth, when laid upon a sick-bed, which prov­ed his dying-bed, fell under the power and agony of great convictions. He mightily bewailed himself in the re­membrance of his former extravagan­cies; and cried strongly to God to for­give him, abhorring his former course, and promising amendment, if God re­newed life to him. However, he was willing to die, having tasted of the love and forgiveness of God; and warned his acquaintance and kindred that came [Page 42] to see him, ‘To fear God, and forsake the pleasures and vanity of this world;’ and so willingly yielded his soul from the troubles of time, and frailties of mortality.

PRINCESS ELIZABETH of the Rhine, claims a memorial in this col­lection; her virtue giving greater lu­stre to her name, than her quality, which yet was of the greatest in the German empire. She chose a single life, as freest of care, and best suited to the study and meditation she was al­ways inclined to: and the chief diver­sion she took, next to the air, was in some such plain and housewifely enter­tainments, as knitting, &c. She had a small territory, which she governed so well, that she shewed herself fit for a greater. She would constantly, eve­ry last day in the week, sit in judg­ment, and hear and determine causes herself; where her patience, justice, and mercy, were admirable: frequently [Page 43] remitting her forfeitures, where the par­ty was poor, or otherwise meritorious. And, which was excellent, tho' unusual, she would temper her discourses with religion, and strangely draw concerned parties to submission and agreement; exercising not so much the rigor of her power, as the power of her persuasion. Her meekness and humility appeared to me extraordinary; she did not consider the quality, but the merit, of the peo­ple she entertained. Did she hear of a retired man, hid from the world, and seeking after the knowledge of a better, she was sure to set him down in the catalogue of her charity, if he wanted it. I have casually seen, says W. Penn, I believe, fifty tokens sealed and superscribed to the several poor subjects of her bounty, whose distances would not suffer them to know one another, tho' they knew her, whom yet some of them had never seen. Thus, tho' she kept no sumptuous ta­ble in her own court, she spread the tables of the poor in their solitary cells; breaking bread to virtuous pilgrims, ac­cording [Page 44] to their want, and her ability. Abstemious in herself, and in apparel void of all vain ornaments. I must needs say, that her mind had a noble prospect: her eye was to a better and more lasting inheritance than can be found below; which made her often despise the greatness of courts, and learning of the schools, of which she was an extraordinary judge. Being once at Hamburgh, a religious person, whom she went to see for religion's sake, telling her, ‘It was too great an honor for him to have a visitant of her quality come under his roof, that was allied to so many great kings and princes of this world:’ she humbly an­swered, ‘If they were godly, as well as great, it would be an honor in­deed; but if you knew what that greatness was, as well as I, you would value less that honor.’ Being in some agony of spirit, after a religi­ous meeting we had in her chamber, she said, ‘It is a hard thing to be faithful to what one knows: O, the [Page 45] way is strait! I am afraid I am not weighty enough in my spirit to walk in it.’ She once withdrew, on pur­pose to give her servants the liberty of discoursing us, that they might the more freely put what questions of con­science they desired to be satisfied in; for they were religious: suffering both them and the poorest of her town, to sit by her in her own bed-chamber, where we had two meetings. I can­not forget her last words, when I took my leave of her: ‘Let me desire you to remember me, tho' I live at this distance, and that you should ne­ver see me more: I thank you for this good time; and know and be as­sured, tho' my condition subjects me to divers temptations, yet my soul hath strong desires after the best things.’ She lived a single life till about sixty years of age, and then de­parted at her own house in Herwerden, in the year 1680, as much lamented, as she had lived beloved, by the peo­ple: to whose real worth, I do, with [Page 46] a religious gratitude, for her kind re­ception, dedicate this memorial.

W. PENN.

BULSTRODE WHITLOCK was a man in high office, and of very great abilities; a scholar, a lawyer, a states­man; in short, he was one of the most accomplished men of the age. In his retirement from the world, being vi­sited by a friend, he, among other se­rious observations, expressed himself thus: ‘I have ever thought there has been but one true religion in the world, and that is the work of the Spirit of God in the hearts and souls of men. There have been, indeed, divers forms and shapes of things, thro' the many dispensations of God to men, answerable to his own wise ends, in reference to the low and uncertain state of man in the world. The old world had the Spirit of God, and the new world has the same [Page 47] Spirit, both Jew and Gentile, and it strives with all: and they, who have been led by it, have been the good people in every dispensation of God to the world. And I myself must say, that I have felt it from a child to convince me of my evil and vani­ty; and it has often given me a true measure of this poor world, and some taste of divine things; and it is my grief that I did not more ear­ly apply my soul to it: for I can say, that since my retirement from the greatness and hurries of the world, I have felt something of the work and comfort of it, and that it is both ready and able to instruct, and lead, and preserve those who will humbly and sincerely hearken to it. So that my religion is, the good Spirit of God in my heart; I mean what that has wrought in me and for me.’

[Page 48]

ANTHONY LOWTHER, of Mask, was a person of good sense, of a sweet temper, a just mind, and of a sober education. When of age to be under his own government, he was drawn, by the men of pleasure of the town, into the usual freedoms of it, and was as much a judge as any body, of the satisfaction which that way of life could yield; but some time before his last sickness, with a free and strong judgment, he would frequently upbraid himself, and contemn the world for those unseasonable, as well as unchri­stian, liberties that so much abound in it. These sentiments increased, by the instruction of a long and sharp sick­ness: and caused him earnestly to breathe after the knowledge of the best things, and the best company, losing as little time as he could, that he might redeem the time he had lost. He testified of­ten, with a lively relish, to the truth of religion, from the sense he had of it in his own breast: frequently de­claring, ‘He knew no joy comparable to that of being assured of the love [Page 49] and mercy of God.’ And as he of­ten implored it with strong convictions, and deep humility and reverence, so he had frequently tastes thereof before his last period; pressing his relations and friends, in a most serious and af­fectionate manner, ‘To love God, and one another more, and this vile world less.’ And of this he was so full, that it was almost ever the conclusion of his religious discourses with his fa­mily. He sometimes said, ‘That tho' he could have been willing to have lived, if God had pleased, to see his younger children nearer a settlement in the world; yet he felt no desire to live longer in the world, but on the terms of living better in it. For that he did not only think virtue the sa­fest, but the happiest way of liv­ing:’ commending and commanding it to his children upon his last bles­sing.

[Page 50]

Extract of a Letter, written by the EARL of ESSEX, to his particular friend, the EARL of SOUTHAMP­TON, some time before his death.

WITH respect to your natural gifts and abilities, remember, First, that you have nothing which you have not received. Secondly, that you possess them, not as a lord over them, but as one who must give an account for them. Thirdly, if you employ them to serve this world, or your own worldly de­light, which the prince of this world will seek to entertain you with; it is ingratitude, it is injustice, yea, it is persidious treachery. For what would you think of such a servant of yours, who should convert your goods, com­mitted to his charge, to the advantage or service of your greatest enemy? And what do you less than this with God; since you have all from him, and know that the world, and the princes there­of, are at continual enmity with him? Therefore, if ever the admonition of your truest friend shall be heard by [Page 51] you; or if your country, which you may serve in so great and many things, be dear unto you; if your God, whom you must (if you deal truly with your­self) acknowledge to be powerful over all, and just in all, be feared by you; yea, if you be dear unto yourself, and prefer an everlasting happiness before a pleasant dream, out of which you must shortly awake, and then repent in the bitterness of your soul: if any of these things be regarded by you, then, I say, call yourself to account for what is past; cancel all the leagues you have made without the warrant of a religious con­science; make a regular covenant with your God, to serve him with all your natural and spiritual, inward and out­ward gifts and abilities: and then he, who is faithful and cannot lie, and hath promised to honor those who ho­nor him, will give you that inward peace of soul, and true joy of heart, which, till you have, you will never rest; and which, when you have, you shall never be shaken; and which [Page 52] you can never attain to any other way.

ESSEX.

The Hon. ROBERT BOYLE, that most exact searcher into the works of nature, and who saw atheism and infi­delity beginning to show themselves in the loose and voluptuous reign of King Charles the Second, pursued his philo­sophical inquiries with religious views, to establish the minds of men in a firm belief, and thorough sense, of the in­finite power and wisdom of the great Creator.

This account we have from Dr. Bur­net, who was intimately acquainted with him, and who says, ‘It appeared from those who conversed with him on his inquiries into nature, that his main design in that (on which as he had his own eye constantly, so he took care to put others often in mind of it) was to raise in himself and others, vaster thoughts of the great­ness [Page 53] and glory, and of the wisdom and goodness of God.’ This was so deep in his thoughts, that he concludes the article of his will, which relates to the Royal Society, in these words, ‘Wishing them a happy success in their attempts to discover the true nature of the works of God; and praying that they, and all other searchers into physical truths, may cordially refer their attainments, to the glory of the great Author of Na­ture, and to the comfort of man­kind.’

In another place the same person speaks of him thus: ‘He had the pro­foundest veneration for the great God of heaven and earth, that I ever ob­served in any man. The very name of God was never mentioned by him, without a pause and visible stop in his discourse.’

Of the strictness and exemplariness of the whole course of his life, he says: ‘I might here challenge the whole tribe of libertines, to come and view the usefulness, as well as [Page 54] the excellence of the Christian reli­gion, in a life that was entirely de­dicated to it.’

The veneration he had for the holy scriptures appears, not from his study­ing them with great attention, and ex­horting others to do the same; but more particularly, from a distinct trea­tise which he wrote on purpose to de­fend the scripture style, and to answer all the objections which profane and irreligious persons have made against it. And his zeal in propagating Chri­stianity in the world, appears by many and large benefactions to that end.

The great NEWTON is universally acknowledged to be the most profound philosopher that this, or perhaps any other, nation has produced: the vast­ness of his mental powers has excited the admiration of the greatest geni­uses in Europe. This excellent person is well known to have been a firm [Page 55] believer, and a serious Christian. His discoveries concerning the frame and system of the universe were applied by him to demonstrate the being of a God, and to illustrate his power and wisdom in the creation. He applied himself also, with the utmost attention, to the study of the holy scriptures, and con­sidered the several parts of them with uncommon exactness; particularly, as to the order of time, and the series of prophecies and events relating to the Messiah. Upon which head, he has left behind him an excellent discourse, to prove that the famous prophecy of Daniel's weeks, which has been so in­dustriously perverted by the deists of our times, was an express prophecy of the coming of the Messiah, and fulfil­led in Jesus Christ.

The celebrated JOHN LOCKE, whose sound judgment and accurate talent in reasoning, are so much commended, even by the sceptics and infidels of our [Page 56] times, showed his zeal for the Christi­an religion, first, in his middle age, by publishing a discourse on purpose to demonstrate the reasonableness of be­lieving Jesus to be the promised Messi­ah; and after that, in the latter years of his life, by a very judicious com­mentary upon several of the epistles of the apostle Paul. The scriptures are every where mentioned by him with the greatest reverence; and he exhorts Christians, ‘to betake themselves in earnest to the study of the way to salvation, in those holy writings, wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and proposed it to the world; seeking our religion where we are sure it is in truth to be found, com­paring spiritual things with spiritual.’ And, in a letter written the year before his death, to one who asked this ques­tion, ‘What is the shortest and surest way for a young man to attain to the true knowledge of the Christian religion?’ his answer is, ‘Let him study the holy scriptures, especially the New Testament. Therein are [Page 57] contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its author; salvation for its end; and truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter.’ A direction that was copied from his own practice, in the latter part of his life, and after his retirement from business; when, for ‘fourteen or fifteen years, he applied himself especially, to the study of the scriptures, and employed the last years of his life hardly in any thing else. He was never weary of admiring the great views of that sa­cred book, and the just relation of all its parts. He every day made discoveries in it that gave him fresh cause of admiration.’

The death of this great man was agreeable to his life. For we are assur­ed by one that was with him when he died, and had lived in the same family for seven years before, that, the day before his death, he particularly ex­horted all about him to read the scrip­tures; that he desired to be remember­ed by them at evening prayers; and being told that, if he chose it, the [Page 58] whole family should be with him in his chamber, he answered, he should be very glad to have it so, if it would not give too much trouble: that an oc­casion offering to speak of the goodness of God, he especially exalted the care which God showed to man in justifying him by faith in Jesus Christ; and re­turned God thanks in particular for having blessed him with the knowledge of that divine Saviour.

About two months before his death, he drew up a letter to his friend AN­THONY COLLINS, and left this direc­tion upon it, ‘To be delivered to him after my decease.’

The following is a copy of it.

I KNOW you loved me living, and will preserve my memory when I am dead. All the use to be made of it is, that this life is a scene of vanity which soon passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of ano­ther life. This is what I can say up­on [Page 59] experience, and what you will find to be true, when you come to make up the account.

Adieu, I leave my best wishes with you.

JOHN LOCKE.

The admired ADDISON has also given abundant proof of his belief of Christianity, and his zeal against un­believers, in his evidences of the Chri­stian religion. His writings on religi­ous subjects discover a pious and solid frame of mind; and his general con­duct in life gives us a convincing proof, that what he wrote were the genuine feelings of his heart. But his virtue shone out brightest at the point of death; for, after a long and manly, but vain, struggle with his distempers, he dismissed his physicians, and with them all hopes of life; but with his hopes of life he dismissed not his con­cern for the living, but sent for a youth nearly related, and finely accomplish­ed, [Page 60] yet not above being the better for good impressions from a dying friend. He came; but life now glimmering in the socket, the dying friend was silent. After a decent and proper pause, the youth said, ‘Dear Sir! you sent for me: I believe, and hope you have some commands; I shall hold them most dear.’ May distant ages not only hear, but feel, the reply! Forci­bly grasping the youth's hand, he soft­ly said, ‘See in what peace a Christi­an can die.’ He spoke with diffi­culty, and soon expired. Thro' divine grace, how great is man! thro' divine mercy, how stingless death!

HENRY, Prince of Wales, eldest son to King JAMES the First, of whom others say many excellent things, had but little to say for himself at last. A person whom he loved, and who had been the companion of his diver­sions, being with him in his sickness, and asking him, 'How he did,' was, [Page 61] amongst many other sober expressions, answered thus: ‘Ah, Tom! I in vain wish for that time I lost with thee, and others, in vain recreations.’ So vain were recreations, and so precious was time to a prince, and no ordinary one neither, upon a dying-bed. But why wished he, with others, for more time, but that it might be better em­ployed? Thus hath the holy Spirit of God in men, throughout all generati­ons, convinced them of their vanity and folly upon their dying-beds, who before were too much occupied with temporal pursuits to mind the great concerns of a vast eternity: but when their days were almost numbered; when mortality hastened on them; when the revelation of the righteous judgment was at the door, and all their worldly re­creations and enjoyments must be part­ed with, O then! the holy witness had room to plead with conscience: then nothing but an holy, strict, and severe life, was valuable; then all the world for a little time, tho' before they had given all their time for a little of a [Page 62] vain world. But if so short a repre­sentation of the inconsistency of the vanities of the world, with the Chri­stian life, could make so deep an im­pression, as it has upon numbers at that awakening period; to what a no­ble stature had they been grown in pious and heavenly knowledge; and how much greater had their rewards been, if they contentedly had foregone those perishing entertainments of the world betimes, and given their minds to the tuition and guidance of that universal grace and holy Spirit of God, which had so long shined in darkness, uncomprehended of it, and which was at last but just perceived to give a sight of what they had been doing all their days!

JOHN, Earl of ROCHESTER.

An illustrious and instructive in­stance of the power of religion upon the mind, in the time of sickness and death, is JOHN, Earl of Rochester; [Page 63] descendant of a great family, of a libe­ral education, and great personal ac­complishments; who, by his sincere repentance, and happy death, appear­ed to be (as it is judiciously expressed of him) ‘a very great man every way; a great wit, a great scholar, a great poet, a great sinner, and a great pe­nitent.’

Such he is described to be by two eminent men, who personally knew him, and attended him in his last sick­ness. And herein God has shown the freeness of his mercy, to save one who seemed to have made a covenant with death, and to be at an agreement with hell. Somewhat similar to the apostle Paul, tho' before a blasphemer, a per­secutor, and injurious; yet obtained mercy, that in him Christ Jesus might show forth all long-suffering, for a pat­tern to them that should hereafter be­lieve on him to everlasting life, 1 Tim. 1. ver. 13.16. so he was, as it were, struck to the ground, by a light from heaven, and a voice of thunder round about him; insomuch, that now the [Page 64] scales fell from his eyes, as they did from Paul's; his stony heart was open­ed, and streams of tears gushed out, the bitter, but wholesome, tears of true repentance.

He had advanced to an uncommon height of impiety, having been an ad­vocate in the black cause of Atheism. He had raked too in the very bottom of the jakes of debauchery, and had been a satyrist against virtue. But when, like the prodigal in the gospel, he came to himself, great horror filled his mind, and forced sharp and bitter invectives from him, against himself; terming himself the vilest wretch that ever the sun shined upon; wishing he had been a beggar, a link-boy, or a crawling leper in a ditch, or had lived in a dungeon, rather than have offend­ed the Lord as he had done.

Being at one time under great trou­ble of mind, and his conscience full of terror, he told the person who attend­ed him, that, ‘When, on his jour­ney, he had been arguing with great­er vigor against God and religion, [Page 65] than he had ever done in his life­time before, and that he resolved to run them down, with all the argu­ments and spite in the world; but, like the great convert, Paul, he found it hard to kick against God:’ for his heart was at that time struck so pow­erfully, that he argued as much for God and virtue, as ever he had done against them.

He had such tremendous apprehen­sions of the Divine Majesty, mingled with such delightful contemplations of his nature and perfections, and of the amiableness of religion, that he said, ‘I never was advanced thus far to­wards happiness, in my life before, tho', upon the commission of some sins extraordinary, I have had some checks and warnings considerable from within; but still struggled with them, and so wore them off again. One day at an Atheistical meeting at the house of a person of quality, I undertook to manage the cause, and was the principal disputant against God and piety; and, for my per­formances, [Page 66] received the applause of the whole company. Upon which my mind was terribly struck, and I immediately replied thus to myself, ‘Good God! that a man who walks upright, who sees the wonderful works of God, and has the use of his senses and reason, should use them to the defying of his Creator!’ But tho' this was a good beginning towards my conversion, to find my conscience touched for my sins, yet it went off again; nay, all my life long, I had a secret value and reve­rence for an honest man, and loved morality in others. But I had form­ed to myself an odd scheme of reli­gion, which would solve all that God, or conscience, might force upon me; yet I was not ever well reconciled to the business of Christianity, nor had that reverence for the gospel of Christ, which I ought to have had.’

This state of mind continued till the 53d chapter of Isaiah was read to him, together with some other parts of the sacred scriptures; when it [Page 67] pleased God to fill his mind with such peace and joy, in believing, that it was remarkable to all about him.

And he frequently desired those who were with him, to read the 53d of Isaiah to him, upon which he used to descant in a very affectionate para­phrase, applying the weighty sentences thereof to his own humiliation and comfort.

‘Oh! blessed God! can such an horrid creature as I am, be accepted by thee, who have denied thy being, and contemned thy power? Can there be mercy and pardon for me? will God own such a wretch as I?’

And in the middle of his sickness he said, ‘Shall the unspeakable joys of heaven be conferred on me? Oh! mighty Saviour! never, but thro' thine infinite love and satisfaction! O, never, but by the purchase of thy blood!’ adding, ‘That with all abhorrence he did reflect upon his former life; that sincerely, and from his heart, he repented of all that [Page 68] folly and madness which he had com­mitted.’

His faith was very remarkable in em­bracing the Christian religion; and he justly condemned ‘That foolish and absurd philosophy, which the world so much admired, propagated by the late Hobbes, and others, which had undone him, and many more of the best parts of the nation.’

His faith rested alone on Christ for salvation, and therefore appeared to be of the right kind. He would often in­treat 'God to strengthen his faith,' crying out, ‘Lord, I believe; help mine unbelief.’

He had a growing esteem for the holy scriptures, and evidently saw their divine usefulness and excellency: ‘For, having spoken to his heart, he ac­knowledged, that all the seeming ab­surdities and contradictions, fancied by men of corrupt and reprobate judgments, were vanished; and the excellency and beauty appeared, be­ing come to receive the truth in the love of it.’

[Page 69]Satan, the grand adversary of souls, used to assault him with many tempta­tions and evil suggestions, and many things prejudicial to that religious tem­per of mind, with which God had now endued him. One night especial­ly, the Tempter did make no little use of his fiery darts, by casting upon him lewd and wicked imaginations: but, ‘I thank God,' said he, 'I abhor them all, and by the power of his grace, which I am sure is sufficient for me, I have overcome them. 'Tis the malice of the Devil, because I am rescued from him, and it is the good­ness of God that frees me from all my spiritual enemies.’

There are many proofs of the since­rity of his faith, and the soundness of his repentance; among others, I shall single out those that follow.

His hearty concern for the pious education of his children; ‘wishing his son might never be a wit, as he explained it, one of those wretched creatures, who pride themselves in ridiculing God and religion, denying [Page 70] his being or his providence: but that he might become an honest man, and of a truly religious character, which only could be the support and bles­sing of his family.’

He left a strict charge to the per­sons in whose custody his papers were, ‘to burn all his profane and lewd wri­tings (as being only sit to promote vice and immorality, by which he had so highly offended, and shamed, and blasphemed that holy religion in­to which he had been baptized) and all his obscene and filthy pictures, which were so notoriously scandal­ous.’

He protested, ‘he would not com­mit a known sin to gain a kingdom:’ and sent awful messages to his compa­nions in iniquity.

He advised a gentleman of character, who came to see him on his death-bed, ‘O! remember that you contemn God no more. He is an avenging God, and will visit you for your sins; and will, I hope, in mercy touch your conscience, sooner or later, as he has [Page 71] done mine. You and I have been friends and sinners together a great while, therefore I am the more free with you. We have been all mistaken in our conceits and opinions; our per­suasions have been false and ground­less; therefore God grant you re­pentance.’

And seeing the gentleman the next day, he said, ‘Perhaps you were dis­obliged by my plainness with you yesterday; I spake the words of truth and soberness.’ And striking his hand upon his breast, said, ‘I hope God will touch your heart.’

He laid his commands on the per­sons who attended him, ‘To spread abroad, and let all men know, if they knew it not already, how God had disciplined him for his sins, by his afflicting hand; that his sufferings were most just, tho' he had laid ten thousand times more upon him. That he had laid one stripe upon another, because of his grievous provocations, until he had brought him home to himself. That his former visitations [Page 72] had not had that blessed effect he was now sensible of. That he had for­merly some loose thoughts and slight resolutions of reforming, and design­ed to be better; because even the present consequences of sin were still pestering him, and were so trouble­blesome and inconvenient to him. But now he had other sentiments of things, and acted upon other princi­ples.’

That none, whom he had been the instrument of drawing into sin, might lose the benefit of his sincere, tho' late repentance, he subscribed the following recantation, and ordered it to be pub­lished to the world.

For the benefit of all those whom I may have drawn into sin, by my example and encouragement, I leave to the world this my last declaration, which I deliver in the presence of the great God who knows the secrets of all hearts, and before whom I am preparing to be judged; that from the bottom of my soul I detest and abhor the whole course of my former [Page 73] wicked life: that I think I can never sufficiently admire the goodness of God, who has given me a true sense of my pernicious opinions, and vile practices; by which I have hitherto lived without hope, and without God in the world; have been an open enemy to Jesus Christ, doing the ut­most despite to the holy Spirit of grace; and that the greatest testimo­ny of my charity to such is, to warn them in the name of God, and as they regard the welfare of their im­mortal souls, no more to deny his being or his providence, or despise his goodness; no more to make a mock of sin, or contemn the pure and excellent religion of my ever blessed Redeemer, thro' whose merits alone, I, one of the greatest of sinners, do yet hope for mercy and forgive­ness. Amen.

  • J. ROCHESTER.
  • Delivered and signed in the presence of
    • ANN ROCHESTER.
    • ROBERT PARSONS.

[Page 74]We shall now attend him to his bed of languishing and death, and view the power of religion upon his mind, in that important season. He seemed to have no desire to live but to testify the truth of his repentance, and to bring glory to God. ‘If God,' says he, should spare me yet a little long­er time here, I hope to bring glory to his name, proportionably to the dishonor I have done him, in my whole life past; and particularly by endeavours to convince others, and to assure them of the danger of their condition, if they continued impenitent; and to tell them how graciously God hath dealt with me.’

And when he came within the near­er views of death, about three or four days before it, he said, ‘I shall now die. But, O, what unspeakable glo­ries do I feel! what joys, beyond thought or expression, am I sensible of! I am assured of God's mercy to me, thro' Jesus Christ. O! how I [Page 75] long to die, and to be with my Sa­viour.’

HERVEY, when on a sick-bed, to a FRIEND.

MY health is continually upon the decline, and the springs of life are all relaxing. My age is removing, and de­parting from me as a shepherd's tent. Medicine is baffled; and my physician, Dr. Stonehouse, who is a dear friend to his patient, and a lover of the Lord Jesus, pities, but cannot succour me.

Now I apprehend myself near the close of life, and stand, as it were, on the brink of the grave, with eternity full in my view; perhaps my dear friend would be willing to know my sentiments in this awful situation. At such a juncture the mind is most un­prejudiced, and the judgment not so liable to be dazzled by the glitter of worldly objects.

[Page 76]I have been too fond of reading eve­ry thing valuable and elegant that has been penned in our language, and been peculiarly charmed with the historians, orators, and poets of antiquity: but was I to renew my studies, I would take leave of those accomplished tri­fles; I would resign the delights of modern wits, amusement and elo­quence, and devote my attention to the scriptures of truth. I would sit with much greater assiduity at my Di­vine Master's feet, and desire to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him cru­cified.

JOHN, LORD HARRINGTON, was the eldest son of that Lord Harrington to whom King James the First com­mitted the education of his eldest daughter, the Princess Elizabeth.

He had excellent natural endow­ments, and had acquired a considerable stock of useful learning; but was most­ly [Page 77] eminent for his knowledge in the work of his salvation.

He manifested a principle of true life in his heart, by his love to all who were truly godly. And such were his bowels of compassion, that he gave the tenth part of his yearly income to cha­ritable uses.

At the beginning of his last sickness, he strongly apprehended that death would be the end of it, and accord­ingly prepared for the grave.

He declared his faith in, and un­doubted hope of, salvation by Christ; and said, with much cheerfulness, ‘That he feared not death, in what shape soever it might assail him.’ In the midst of many heavenly things, which dropped from time to time from his mouth, he desired to be dissolved, and to be at home with the Lord, de­claring, not above two hours before his death, ‘That he still felt the com­fort and joys of assured salvation, by Christ Jesus.’ And when the hour of his departure was come, he said, ‘O, that joy! O, my God! when [Page 78] shall I be with thee?’ And with the like words, expressive of a tender, heavenly frame of mind, he peacefully expired.

From the younger VILLIERS, DUKE of BUCKINGHAM, on his death-bed, to Dr. W—.

DEAR DOCTOR,

I ALWAYS looked upon you to be a person of true virtue, and know you to have a sound understanding; for, however I may have acted in opposition to the principles of religion, or the dictates of reason, I can honestly as­sure you, I have always had the highest veneration for both. The world and I shake hands; for I dare affirm, we are heartily weary of each other. O, what a prodigal have I been of that most va­luable of all possessions, Time! I have squandered it away with a profusion unparalleled; and now, when the en­joyment of a few days would be worth [Page 79] the world, I cannot flatter myself with the prospect of half a dozen of hours. How despicable, my dear friend, is that man who never prays to his God, but in the time of distress? In what manner can he supplicate that omni­potent Being, in his afflictions, whom, in the time of his prosperity, he never remembered with reverence?

Don't brand me with infidelity, when I tell you, that I am almost ashamed to offer up my petitions at the throne of Grace, or to implore that divine mercy in the next world, which I have scandalously abused in this.

Shall ingratitude to man be looked upon as the blackest of crimes, and not ingratitude to God?

Shall an insult offered to the king be looked upon in the most offensive light, and yet no notice taken when the King of kings is treated with in­dignity and disrespect?

The companions of my former liber­tinism would scarcely believe their eyes, were you to show them this epistle. [Page 80] They would laugh at me as a dreaming enthusiast, or pity me as a timorous wretch, who was shocked at the ap­pearance of futurity; but whoever laughs at me for being right, or pities me for being sensible of my errors, is more entitled to my compassion, than resentment. A future state may well enough strike terror into any man, who has not acted well in this life; and he must have an uncommon share of cou­rage indeed, who does not shrink at the presence of God. The apprehen­sions of death will soon bring the most profligate to a proper use of his under­standing. To what a situation am I now reduced? Is this odious little hut a suitable lodging for a prince? Is this anxiety of mind becoming the charac­ter of a Christian? From my rank, I might have expected affluence to wait upon my life; from religion and under­standing, peace to smile upon my end: instead of which I am afflicted with po­verty, and haunted with remorse; des­pised by my country, and, I fear, for­saken by my God.

[Page 81]There is nothing so dangerous as ex­traordinary abilities: I cannot be ac­cused of vanity now, by being sensible that I was once possessed of uncommon qualifications, especially as I sincerely regret that I ever had them. My rank in life made these accomplishments still more conspicuous; and, fascinated by the general applause which they pro­cured, I never considered the proper means by which they should be dis­played. Hence, to procure a smile from a blockhead whom I despised, I have frequently treated the virtuous with disrespect; and sported with the holy name of heaven, to obtain a laugh from a parcel of fools, who were entitled to nothing but con­tempt.

Your men of wit generally look up­on themselves as discharged from the duties of religion, and confine the doc­trines of the gospel to people of mean­er understandings. It is a sort of de­rogation, in their opinion, to comply with the rules of Christianity: and [Page 82] they reckon that man possessed of a narrow genius, who studies to be good.

What a pity that the holy writings are not made the criterion of true judg­ment; or that any person should pass for a fine gentleman in this world, but he that appears solicitous about his hap­piness in the next.

I am forsaken by all my acquaint­ance, utterly neglected by the friends of my bosom, and the dependants on my bounty: but no matter! I am not fit to converse with the former, and have no ability to serve the latter. Let me not however be wholly cast off by the good. Favor me with a visit as soon as possible. Writing to you gives me some ease, especially on a subject I could talk of for ever.

I am of opinion this is the last vi­sit I shall ever solicit from you; my distemper is powerful; come and pray for the departing spirit of the poor, unhappy

BUCKINGHAM.
[Page 83]

Col. JAMES GARDINER, a person of distinguished character, was for ma­ny years of his life greatly addicted to sensual pleasures. With a strong con­stitution of body, great flow of animal spirits, fine personal accomplishments, and a large circle of polite connexions, he seemed as amply qualified as most men, to range in the field of animal enjoyments, and to extract from them all they were capable of yielding. Yet this complete sensualist, in the me­ridian of his joys, bitterly experien­ced ‘That even in laughter their hearts are sorrowful, and the end of their mirth is heaviness.’

Being at one time congratulated, by some of his dissolute companions, on his distinguished felicity, and a dog happening at that time to come into the room, he could not forbear groan­ing inwardly, and saying to himself, 'Oh! that I were that dog!' Such was then his happiness; and such per­haps is that of hundreds more, who bear themselves highest in the contempt of religion, and glory in that infamous [Page 84] servitude which they affect to call li­berty.

His continual neglect of the great Author of his being, of whose perfec­tions he could not doubt, and to whom he knew himself to be under daily and perpetual obligations, gave him, in some moments of involuntary reflecti­on, inexpressible remorse; and this, at times, wrought upon him to such a de­gree, that he resolved he would attempt to pay him some acknowledgments. Accordingly, for a time, he did it; repeating, in retirement, some passages out of the Psalms, and perhaps other scriptures, which he still retained in his memory; and owning, in a few words, the many mercies and deliver­ances he had received, and the ill re­turns he had made for them. But these strains were too devout to conti­nue long in a heart as yet quite unsanc­tified: for how readily soever he could repeat acknowledgments of the divine power, presence, and goodness, and own his follies and faults; he was stopt short by the remonstrances of his con­science, [Page 85] as to the flagrant absurdity of confessing sins he did not desire to for­sake, and of pretending to praise God for his mercies, when he did not en­deavour to live in his service, and to behave in such a manner as gratitude, if sincere, would plainly dictate.

At length it pleased the Author of all good, so to visit his soul, that hearti­ly joining therewith, he became a sin­cere penitent, and continued the re­mainder of his days, a bright and stea­dy example of virtue and goodness. His gratitude to God for his singular deliverance, his continued sense of the friendship of so gracious a Being, and his unshaken hope of eternal happiness, filled his heart with unutterable peace and joy; and caused abundant compas­sion for those unhappy persons who prefer the transient amusements of a day, to the highest of all enjoyments, the perpetual love and favor of an Al­mighty friend. Many of his letters, and particularly the following ones to his wife and to an intimate acquaint­ance, testify his favored state of mind, [Page 86] and how great was his enjoyment in communion with the Father of Spi­rits.

‘I bless God, I was never better in my life; and I wish I could be so happy as to hear the same of you; or rather (in other words) to hear that you had obtained an entire trust in God. That would infallibly keep you in perfect peace; for the God of truth hath promised it. Oh! how ought we to be longing to be with Christ, which is infinitely better than any thing we can propose here! To be there, where all complaints shall be for ever banished: where no moun­tain shall separate between God and our souls. And I hope it will be some addition to our happiness, that you and I shall be separated no more; but that, as we have joined in sing­ing the praises of our glorious Re­deemer here, we shall sing them in a much higher strain thro' an endless eternity.’—Speaking of one of his children, who, he had heard, made a commendable progress in learning, he [Page 87] expressed his satisfaction in it, and adds, ‘But how much greater joy would it give me, to hear that he was greatly advanced in the school of Christ! Oh! that our children may be but wise to salvation; and may grow in grace, as they do in stature!’

‘What would I have given this day, upon the road, for paper, pen, and ink, when the Spirit of the Most High rested upon me! Oh! for the pen of a ready writer, and the tongue of an angel, to declare what God hath done this day for my soul! But, in short, it is in vain to attempt it: all that I am able to say, is only this, that my soul has been for some hours joining with the blessed spirits above, in giving glory, and honor, and praise, ‘unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever.’ My praises began from a renewed view of him, whom I saw pierced for my trans­gressions. I summoned the whole hierarchy of heaven to join with me; and I am persuaded, they all [Page 88] echoed back praise to the Most High.’

Such were the elevations of his mind; yet, there are many who will be in­clined to censure them as the flights of enthusiasm.

But when we consider the scriptural phrases ‘of walking with God; of having communion with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ; of Christ's coming to them that open the door of their hearts to him, and supping with them; of God's shedding a­broad his love in the heart by his Spirit; of his coming with Jesus Christ, and making his abode with any one that loves him; of making us glad by the light of his counte­nance;’ and a variety of other e­quivalent expressions, we shall see reason to judge very favorably of the declarations contained in these let­ters.

If habitual love to God; firm faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; a steady de­pendance on the divine promises; a full persuasion of the wisdom and [Page 89] goodness of all the dispensations of Providence; a high esteem for the bles­sings of the heavenly world; and a sin­cere contempt for the vanities of this, can properly be called enthusiasm, then was Colonel Gardiner indeed one of the greatest enthusiasts our age has produced; and in proportion to the degree in which he was so, he must be esteemed one of the happiest of mankind!

‘How often (says the ingenious and pious Grove) are good thoughts sug­gested, heavenly affections kindled and inflamed! How often is the Christian prompted to holy actions, drawn to his duty, restored, quick­ened, persuaded, in such a manner, that he would be unjust to the Spi­rit of God, to question his agency in the whole! Yes, O my soul, there is a Supreme Being, who go­verns the world, and is present with it; who takes up his more special habitation in good men, and is nigh to all who call upon him, to sanctify and assist them! Hast thou not felt [Page 90] him! O! my soul! like another soul, actuating thy faculties, exalt­ing thy views, purifying thy passi­ons, exciting thy graces, and be­getting in thee an abhorrence of sin, and a love of holiness? And is not all this an argument of his presence, as truly as if thou didst see him?’

The dying Advice of DUNCAN FOR­BES, late LORD PRESIDENT of SCOTLAND.

I WILL conclude with that which is the most important of all things, and which alone will carry every thing else along with it; which is to recom­mend, in the most solemn and serious manner, the study and practice of re­ligion to all sorts of men, as that which is both the light of the world, and salt of the earth. Nothing does so open our faculties, and compose and direct the whole man, as an inward [Page 91] sense of God; of his authority over us; of the laws he hath set us; of his eye over us; of his hearing our pray­ers; assisting our endeavours; watch­ing over our concerns; of his being to judge, and reward or punish us in ano­ther state, according to what we do in this. Nothing will give a man such a detestation of sin, and such a sense of the goodness of God, and of our obli­gations to holiness, as a right under­standing and firm belief of the Chri­stian religion. Nothing can give a man so calm a peace within, and such a firm security against all fears and dangers without, as the belief of a kind, wise Providence, and of a future state. Integrity of heart gives a man courage and confidence that cannot be shaken. A man is sure that by living according to the rules of religion, he becomes the wisest, the best, and the happiest creature that he is capable of being. Honest industry, the employing of time well, a constant sobriety, an undefiled purity and chastity, with a quiet serenity, are the best preservatives [Page 92] of life and health; so that take a man as an individual, religion is his guard, his perfection, his beauty, and his glo­ry. This will make him a light in the world, shining brightly, and enlighten­ing many round about him.

Thus religion, if truly received and sincerely adhered to, would prove the greatest of all blessings to a nation. But, by religion, I understand some­thing more than the receiving of some doctrines, tho' ever so true, or the pro­fessing of them, and engaging to sup­port them, not without zeal and eager­ness. What signify the best doctrines, if men do not live suitably to them; if they have not a due influence upon their thoughts and their lives? Men of bad lives, with sound opinions, are self-condemned, and lie under a highly ag­gravated guilt.

By religion, I do not mean an out­ward compliance with forms and cu­stoms, in going to church, to prayers, to sermons, and to sacraments, with an external show of devotion; or, which is more, with some inward forced good [Page 93] thoughts, in which many satisfy them­selves, while these have no visible ef­fect on their lives, nor any inward force to subdue and rectify their appe­tites, passions, and secret designs. Those customary performances, how good and useful soever, when understood and rightly directed, are of little value when men rest on them, and think because they do them, they have acquit­ted themselves of their duty; tho' they continue still proud, covetous, full of deceit, envy, and malice. Even secret prayers, the most effectual means, are designed for a higher end; which is to possess our minds with such a constant and present sense of divine truths, as may make these live in us, and govern us, and draw down such assist­ance, as to exalt and sanctify our na­tures.

So that, by religion, I mean such a sense of divine truth as enters into a man, and becomes a spring of a new nature within him; reforming his thoughts and designs; purifying his heart; sanctifying and governing his [Page 94] whole deportment, his words as well as his actions; convincing him that it is not enough, not to be scandalously vicious, or to be innocent in his con­versation, but that he must be intire­ly, uniformly, and constantly, pure and virtuous, animated with zeal to be still better and better, more eminently good and exemplary.

This is true religion, which is the perfection of human nature, and the joy and delight of every one that feels it active and strong within him. It is true, this is not arrived at all at once, and it will have an unhappy alloy, hanging long even about a good man; but, as those ill mixtures are the per­petual grief of his soul, so that it is his chief care to watch over, and to mortify them, he will be in a continu­al progress, still gaining ground upon himself; and as he attains to a degree of purity, he will find a flame of life and joy growing up in him. Of this I write with a greater concern and emotion, because I have felt this the true, and indeed, the only joy which [Page 95] runs thro' a man's heart and life. It is that which hath been for many years my greatest support. I rejoice daily in it. I feel from it, the earnest of that supreme joy which I want and long for; and I am sure there is nothing else which can afford any true and complete happiness.

CHIEF JUSTICE HALE, a man of great piety, wisdom, and learning, has given in his life and writings, an en­couraging testimony to the power and excellency of religion.

‘True religion (saith he) teaches the soul a high veneration of Almighty God, a sincere and upright walking as in the presence of the invisible, all-seeing God; it makes a man tru­ly love, honor, and obey him, and therefore careful to know what his will is; it renders the heart highly thankful to him, as his Creator, Re­deemer, and Benefactor; it makes a man entirely depend on him, seek [Page 96] him for guidance, direction, and protection, and submit to his will with all patience and resignation of soul; it gives the law, not only to his words and actions, but to his very thoughts and purposes, that he dares not entertain thoughts unbe­coming the sight and presence of that God, to whom all our thoughts are legible. It crusheth all pride and haughtiness, both in a man's heart and carriage, and gives him an hum­ble frame of soul and life, both in the sight of God and men; it regu­lates and governs the passions of the mind, and brings them into due mo­deration and frame; it gives a man a right estimate of this present world, and sets the heart and hopes above it, so that he never loves it more than it deserves; it makes the wealth, and the glory of this world, high places, and great preferments, but of low and little value to him; so that he is neither covetous nor ambi­tious, nor over solicitous concerning the advantages of them. It makes [Page 97] him value the love of God, and peace of conscience, above all the wealth and honor in the world, and to be very diligent to keep it inviola­bly; he performs all his duties to God in sincerity and integrity; and, whilst he lives on earth, his conver­sation, his hopes, his treasures, are in heaven, and he endeavours to walk suitably to such a hope.’

Of the inward direction and assist­ance of the Spirit of God, to the soul, he declares as follows:

Those who truly fear God have a secret guidance from a higher wis­dom than what is barely human, namely, the Spirit of Truth and Wisdom, that doth really and truly, but secretly, prevent and direct them. Any man that sincerely and truly fears Almighty God, and relies, and calls upon him for his guidance and direction, hath it as really as a son hath the counsel and direction of his father; and tho' the voice be not au­dible, nor the direction always per­ceptible, or discernible, to sense, yet [Page 98] it is equally as real as if a man heard the voice saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’

And this secret direction of Al­mighty God is principally seen in matters relating to the good of the soul; yet it may also be found in the concerns of this life, which a good man, that fears God, and begs his direction, shall very often, if not at all times, find.

I can call my own experience to witness that, even in the external actions of my whole life, I was ne­ver disappointed of the best guidance and direction, when I have, in hu­mility and sincerity, implored the se­cret direction and guidance of the Divine Wisdom.

The observation of the secret ad­monition of the Spirit of God in the heart, is an effectual means to cleanse and sanctify thy heart, and the more it is attended to, the more it will be conversant with thy soul, for thy in­struction.—In the midst of thy diffi­culties it will be thy counsellor; in [Page 99] the midst of thy temptations it will be thy strength, and grace sufficient for thee; in the midst of thy trou­bles it will be thy light and thy com­forter: only beware thou neglect not the voice of this Spirit; it may be, thy neglect may quench it, and thou mayest never hear that voice more.

It is impossible for thee to enjoy that which must make thee happy, till thou art deeply sensible of thy own emptiness and nothingness, and thy spirit thereby brought down and laid in the dust.—The Spirit of Christ is an humbling spirit, the more thou hast of it, the more it will humble thee; and it is a sign that either thou hast it not, or that it is yet over-mas­tered by thy corruptions, if thy heart be still haughty.

Watch, therefore, the secret per­suasions, and dissuasions of the Spirit of God, and beware thou quench it not, nor grieve it; be sure thou ob­serve this voice—this wind that blows where it lists, if shut out, resisted, [Page 100] or grieved, may haply never breathe upon thee again, but leave thee to be hardened in thy sins; but if ob­served and obeyed, thou shalt be sure to have it thy monitor and director, upon all occasions; when thou goest out, it will lead thee, when thou sleepest, it will keep thee, and when thou awakest, it will talk with thee.

Of the vicissitude of temporal enjoy­ments, and of his own experience thereof, he gives a striking testimony in the following lines.

‘I HAVE, in the course of my life, had as many stations and places as most men. I have been in almost continual motion; and altho', of all earthly things, I have the most de­sired rest, and retiredness, and fixed, private station, yet the various chan­ges that I have seen and found, the public employments, that, without my seeking, and against my inclina­tion, have been put upon me, and many other interventions, as well private as public, have made a lite­rally [Page 101] my experience, that I have had no continuing city, or place of habi­tation. When I had designed unto myself a settled mansion in one place, and had fitted it to my convenience and repose, I have been presently constrained by my necessary employ­ments, to leave it, and repair to a­nother: and when again I had thoughts to find repose there, and had again fitted it to my conveni­ence; yet some other necessary oc­currences have diverted me from it; and thus, by several vicissitudes, my dwellings have been like so many inns to a traveller, tho' of some longer continuance, yet almost of equal in­stability and vicissitude. This unset­tledness of station, tho' troublesome, yet hath given me a good and practi­cal moral; namely, that I must not expect my rest in this lower world, but must make it as the place of my journey and pilgrimage, not of my repose and rest, but must look fur­ther for that happiness. And truly, when I consider, that it hath been [Page 102] the wisdom of God Almighty to ex­ercise those worthies, which he left us patterns to the rest of mankind, with this kind of discipline in the world, I have reason not to complain of it, as a difficulty or an inconveni­ence, but to be thankful to him for it as an instruction and document, to put me in remembrance of a better home, and to incite me to make a due provision for it; even that ever­lasting rest which he hath provided for them that love him; and by pouring me thus from vessel to vessel, to keep me from fixing myself too much up­on this world below. But the truth is, did we consider this world as be­comes us, even as wise men, we may easily find, without the help of any such particular discipline of this na­ture, that this world below neither was intended for, nor indeed can be, a place of rest, but only a laboratory to fit and prepare the souls of the children of men, for a better and more abiding state; a school, to ex­ercise and train us up in habits of [Page 103] patience and obedience, till we are fitted for another station; a little narrow nursery, wherein we may be dressed and pruned, till transplanted into a better paradise. The continu­al troubles and discomposures, sick­nesses, and calamities, that attend our lives; the shortness and continu­ed vexations occurring in them; and finally, the common examples of death and mortality of all ages, sex­es, and conditions of mankind, are a sufficient instruction to convince reasonable men, who have the seri­ousness and patience to consider and observe, that we have no abiding ci­ty here. And on the other side, if we will give ourselves but the leisure to consider the great wisdom of Al­mighty God, who orders every thing in the world to ends suitable and pro­portionable; the excellence of the soul and mind of man; the great advances and improvements his na­ture is capable of; the admirable means, which the merciful and wise God hath afforded mankind, by his [Page 104] works of nature and providence, by his word and instruments, to qualify him for a nobler life than this world below can yield, we shall readily con­fess, that there is another state, ano­ther city to come, which it becomes every good, and wise, and conside­rate man, to look after, and fit him­self for. And yet, if man look up­on the generality of mankind, with a due consideration, they will appear to be like a company of distempered people. The greatest part of them make it their whole business, to pro­vide for a rest and happiness in this world, they make these vain acquests of wealth and honor, and the prefer­ments and pleasures of this world, their great, if not their only, busi­ness and happiness; and, which is yet a higher degree of frenzy, they esteem this the only wisdom, and judge the careful provision for eter­nity, the folly of a few weak, me­lancholy, fanciful men: whereas it is truth, and in due time it will evi­dently appear, that those men, who [Page 105] are most solicitous for their attain­ing of their everlasting rest, are the only true wise men, and so shall be acknowledged by those that now de­spise them.’ Wis. 5.4. ‘We fools accounted his life madness, and his end to be without honor. How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is among the saints!’

A Letter from JAMES, EARL of MARL­BOROUGH, a little before his death, in the battle at sea on the coast of Holland, &c.

I BELIEVE the goodness of your na­ture, and the friendship you have al­ways borne me, will receive with kind­ness the last office of your friend. I am in health enough of body, and, thro' the mercy of God in Jesus Christ, well disposed in mind. This I premise, that you may be satisfied, that what I write proceeds not from any fantastic [Page 106] terror of mind, but from a sober reso­lution of what concerns myself, and an earnest desire to do you more good after my death, than my example (God of his mercy pardon the badness of it!) in my life-time may do you harm. I will not speak aught of the vanity of this world: your own age and experi­ence will save that labor; but there is a certain thing that goeth up and down the world, called religion, dressed, and pretended fantastically, and to purposes bad enough, which yet, by such evil dealing, loseth not its being. The great good God hath not left it with­out a witness, more or less, sooner or later, in every man's bosom, to direct us in the pursuit of it, and for the a­voiding of those inextricable disquisi­tions and entanglements with which our own frail reason would perplex us. God, in his infinite mercy, hath given us his holy word, in which, as there are many things hard to be understood, so there is enough plain and easy, to quiet our minds, and to direct us con­cerning our future being. I confess to [Page 107] God and you, I have been a great ne­glecter, and, I fear, despiser of it; God, of his infinite mercy, pardon me the dreadful fault! But, when I retired myself from the noise and deceitful va­nity of the world, I found no true comfort in any other resolution, than what I had from thence; I commend, from the bottom of my heart, the same to your, I hope, happy use. Dear Hugh, let us be more generous than to believe we die as the beasts that perish; but with a Christian, manly, brave re­solution, look to what is eternal. The only great and holy God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, direct you to an hap­py end of your life, and send us a joy­ful resurrection. So prays your true friend,

MARLBOROUGH.

The following Account of an affecting, mournful exit, is related by Dr. YOUNG, who was present at the melancholy scene.

[Page 108]THE sad evening before the death of that noble youth, whose last hours suggested these thoughts, I was with him. No one was there but his phy­sician, and an intimate whom he loved, and whom he had ruined. At my coming in, he said, ‘You and the physician are come too late.—I have neither life nor hope. You both aim at miracles. You would raise the dead.’

‘Heaven, I said, was merciful, or I could not have been thus guilty. What has it not done to bless, and to save me? I have been too strong for Omnipotence! I have plucked down ruin.’ I said, the blessed Re­deemer—‘Hold! hold! you wound me!—That is the rock on which I split—I denied his name.’

Refusing to hear any thing from me, or take any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the clock struck. Then with vehemence; ‘Oh, time! time! It is fit thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to the heart.— [Page 109] How art thou fled for ever!—A month!—Oh, for a single week! I ask not for years. Tho' an age were too little for the much I have to do.’

On my saying, We could not do too much: that heaven was a blessed place —‘So much the worse. 'Tis lost! 'tis lost!—Heaven is to me the se­verest part of hell!’

Soon after I proposed prayer. ‘Pray you that can. I never prayed. I cannot pray—Nor need I. Is not heaven on my side already? It closes with my conscience. Its severest strokes but second my own.’

His friend being much touched, even to tears, at this (who could forbear? I could not) with a most affectionate look, he said;

‘Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone thee.—Dost weep for me? that's cruel. What can pain me more?’

Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him.

[Page 110] ‘No, stay, thou still may'st hope; —therefore hear me. How madly have I talk'd! How madly hast thou listened, and believed! but look on my present state, as a full answer to thee, and to myself. This body is all weakness and pain; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater strength and spirit, is full powerful to reason; full mighty to suffer. And that, which thus triumphs with­in the jaws of immortality, is, doubt­less, immortal.—And, as for a De­ity, nothing less than an Almighty could inflict what I feel.’

I was about to congratulate this pas­sive, involuntary confessor, on his as­serting the two prime articles of his creed, extorted by the rack of nature; when he thus, very passionately:

‘No, no! let me speak on. I have not long to speak.—My much in­jured friend! my soul, as my body, lies in ruins; in scattered fragments of broken thought. Remorse for the past throws my thought on the future. Worse dread of the future [Page 111] strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake; and bless heaven for the flames;—that is not an everlasting flame; that is not an unquenchable fire.’

How were we struck! yet, soon af­ter, still more. With what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair! he cried out:

‘My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance has beg­gared my boy; my unkindness has murdered my wife!—And is there another hell?—Oh! Thou blasphem­ed, yet indulgent, LORD GOD! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hides me from thy frown.’

Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified imagination uttered hor­rors not to be repeated, or ever forgot. And ere the Sun (which I hope has seen few like him) arose, the gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most wretched Altamont expired.

[Page 112]If this is a man of pleasure, what is a man of pain? How quick, how total is the transit of these Phaetontia­des! in what a dismal gloom they set for ever! how short, alas! the day of their rejoicing! For a moment they glitter, they dazzle. In a moment, where are they? Oblivion covers their memories. Ah! would it did! Infa­my snatches them from oblivion. In the long-living annals of infamy their triumphs are recorded. Thy sufferings still bleed in the bosom (poor Alta­mont!) of the heart-stricken friend: for Altamont had a friend. He might have had many. His transient morn­ing might have been the dawn of an immortal day. His name might have been gloriously enrolled in the records of eternity. His memory might have left a sweet fragrance behind it, grate­ful to the surviving friend, salutary to the succeeding generation. With what capacities was he endowed, with what advantages, for being greatly good. But with the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. If he judges amiss in [Page 113] the supreme point, judging right in all else, but aggravates his folly; as it shows him wrong, tho' blessed with the best capacity of being right.

Such, so fatal, when abused, are the greatest blessings of heaven. Heaven grant his agonies were an expiation of the past; not a presage and sad speci­men of the future. That his sur­viving companions and admirers may never suffer the same, give me leave to speak to them, while this affecting ob­ject is (or might be) in their sight.

Ye staunch pursuers of pleasure, opening in full cry on its burning scent! who run yourselves out of breath, health, credit, estate, and often life, after that you cannot catch! for a moment slacken your speed, and cool the fervor of your chase. It is a friend that calls, and he is his own, that hears.

If there is a scene on earth, in which you can find greater advan­tage, than in that to which you have been invited, do not come; if there is not, indulge me in a few words, [Page 114] which may not be soon forgot: at least, they will recur to your thoughts, they will recur to your feeling hearts, when your present jovial chase is over; when pleasure is no more.

It will be grateful to your friend deceased, whom you were always willing to oblige, if, with his accom­plishments, you remember his faults; for then you will not forget your own; but read, in his deep distress, a strong caution against them. Af­fords not the rock on which he split, a solid basis for your safety? Has he not well remarked where mischief lies? See you not the wreck of that gallant first-rate? or rather, is he not a beacon, lighted up by kind Providence, to guide you safe thro' the dangerous voyage of human life?

He once, as you now, imagined himself, in this life, immortal. Was he not mistaken? He has taken his final flight; whither, who can tell? If you continue yours in the same fatal track, who is he that cannot [Page 115] tell where the folly must end? Smit­ten, transfixed, when most secure, from the most towering heights, he dropped at once into depths of dis­tress, not to be fathomed by man. In gaiety of heart defy not the dan­ger. Are there not more arrows in the same quiver? and are not you as fair and tempting a mark? more tempting, if unadmonished, and mounting still over his forgotten tomb. And whom dare you tempt? an Archer that never missed his mark.

But you, from your gay pavilion, embowered in roses, see no threat­ening prospects; no dangers of death.—Oh, Sirs! Death delights to lie hid in thickets of roses! How often the gayest fall first in his snare! yet even this is too gentle, too mild, to answer the good will of Heaven; it cannot keep the world in awe.

What uncommon fortitude is needful to bear prosperities unhurt? It is now sunshine with you; and [Page 116] you think all is well. It is the sea­son of indulgence—but seasons will change. You that are now all social comfort, gathered close in glad clu­sters, and (like embodied birds of passage, bound for new climes) on your impatient wing for new de­lights! what will you do, when each of you, severed from the rest, an unexperienced, unexpected re­cluse, lies sorely pained; dreading worse; none to converse with, but the two greatest strangers, his own heart, and Him who made it; and neither at peace with him? Say, ye strangers to care, and abounders in mirth! what will he do, when he finds himself still subsisting in a state, where none of those pleasures, for which alone he wished to subsist, can possibly any longer subsist with him? when the dark matter at the centre will not be more foreign to him, than that which now beats high in his pulse, and flushes in his cheek; and stings him on to schemes, that laugh at such lectures as these? [Page 117] when he finds himself led by the soft hand of pleasure, to those dis­mal gates, which she herself will never, never, never enter?

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AN APPENDIX CONTAINING SOME EXTRACTS FROM THE WRITINGS OF PIOUS AND EMINENT MEN, AGAINST THE ENTERTAINMENTS OF THE STAGE, AND OTHER VAIN AMUSEMENTS.

[Page]

AN APPENDIX CONTAINING SOME EXTRACTS, &c.

From the PRINCE of CONTI.

'IT is impossible to consider the bu­siness of a player, and to compare it with the Christian profession, with­out being sensible that there is nothing more unworthy of a child of God, and of a member of Jesus Christ than this employment. I do not speak of the gross irregularities only, and the disso­lute manner in which the women ap­pear on the stage, because those who justify plays, always separate those dis­orders from them in their imagination, tho' they are never separated in effect. I speak only of that which is absolutely [Page 122] inseparable from them. 'Tis an em­ployment, the end of which is the di­version of others; where men and wo­men appear on a theatre, to represent the passions of hatred, anger, ambiti­on, revenge, and chiefly that of love. They must express them as lively, and as naturally, as is possible for them; and they cannot do so, if they do not, in some manner, excite them in them­selves, and if their souls do not take all the changes which we see in their faces. Those then who represent a passion, must be, in some measure, touched with it whilst they represent it; and it is not to be imagined, that they can presently efface from their minds that impression, which they have voluntarily excited in it, and that it does not leave a great disposition to that same passion which they have been so willingly sensible of. Thus, plays are, even in their nature, a school, and an exercise of vice, since it is an art in which one must necessarily excite in himself vicious passions. And if we consider that the lives of players are [Page 123] employed in this exercise, that they pass it entirely, either in learning by themselves, or rehearsing among one another, or in representing to specta­tors the image of some vice; and that they have scarce any thing in their minds but these follies; we shall easily see, that it is impossible to join this em­ployment with the purity of our religi­on. And thus, it must be owned, it is a profane employment, and unwor­thy of a Christian; and that, by con­sequence, it is not allowable for others to contribute to maintain them in a profession contrary to Christianity, or to authorize it by their presence.'

—'Those deceive themselves extremely, who think that plays make no ill impression on them, because they do not find them excite any formed evil desire.—There are many degrees before one comes to an entire corrupti­on of mind, and it is always extremely hurtful to the soul, to destroy the ramparts which secured it from temp­tation.

[Page 124]One does not begin to fall when the fall becomes sensible; the failings of the soul are slow, they have progressi­ons and preparations; and it often hap­pens, that we are overcome by temp­tations only by our having weakened ourselves in occasions, which seemed of no importance; it being certain that he who despises little things, shall fall by little and little.'

—'It must not be imagined that these wicked maxims, of which plays are full, are not hurtful, because people do not go there to form their sentiments, but to divert themselves; for they do not fail of making impres­sions, notwithstanding, without being perceived.—The opinion that the chi­mera of honor is so great a good, that it must be preserved, even at the ex­pense of life, is what produces the bru­tal rage of the gentlemen of France. If those who fight a duel were never spoken of but as fools and madmen, as indeed they are; if that phantom of honor, which is their idol, was never represented but as a chimera and a [Page 125] folly; if care was taken never to form any image of revenge, but as of a mean and cowardly action; the resent­ment which men feel upon an affront would be infinitely weaker; but that which exasperates and renders it the more lively, is the false impression, that there is cowardice in bearing an affront. Now, it cannot be denied, that plays, which are full of these evil maxims, do greatly contribute to for­tify that impression, because the mind being by them transported, and entire­ly out of itself, instead of correcting those sentiments, abandons itself to them without resistance, and delights to feel the motions they inspire, which dispose it to produce the like upon oc­casion.'

—'Plays and romances not on­ly indispose the soul for all acts of religion and piety; but they give it a disgust, in some measure, to all serious and ordinary actions. As nothing is represented in them but gallantries, or extraordinary adventures, and the dis­courses are far distant from such as are [Page 126] used in serious affairs, one insensibly takes from them a romantic disposition of mind: the head is filled with heroes and heroines, and women seeing the adorations which in them are given to their sex (of which they find the image and practice in companies of diversion, where young men talk to them what they have learned in romances, treating them as nymphs and goddesses) have that sort of life so much impressed on their minds, that the little affairs of their family and housewifery become insupportable to them; and when they return to their houses, with minds thus evaporated and filled with these follies, they find every thing there disagreea­ble, and especially their husbands, who, being taken up with their affairs, are not always in the humor of paying them those ridiculous complaisances which are given to women in plays, in romances, and in the romantic life.'

—'The need which men have of diversion, is not by far so great as is thought, and it consists more in imagi­nation, [Page 127] or in custom, than in a real necessity. Those who are employed in bodily labor, have only need of a bare cessation from it. Those who are employed in affairs toilsome to the mind, and but little laborious to the body, have need to recollect themselves from that disposition which those sort of employments naturally cause, and not to dissipate themselves yet more, by diversions which extremely engage the mind. It is a jest to fancy that one has need to pass three hours in filling the mind with follies at a play. Those who find in themselves this need, ought to look on it, not as a natural weak­ness, but as a vice of custom, which they must cure by serious employ­ployments.'

—'If the soul abandons itself to these false pleasures, it loses the re­lish of spiritual ones, and finds nothing but disgust for the word of God. These are those sour grapes, of which the prophet says, ‘They benumb, and set on edge, the teeth of whose who eat them.’—That is to say, when [Page 128] one feeds himself with the vain plea­sures of the world, the spiritual senses become stupified, and incapable of re­lishing, or understanding, the things of God. Now, among the pleasures of the world, which extinguish the love [...] the word of God, it may be said, that plays and romances hold the first rank; because there is nothing more opposed to truth, and that the Spirit of God, being a spirit of truth, can have no part with the vanities of the world.'

—'There will be many persons ready to assert, that they have never received any ill impression from come­dy; but I maintain, either that they are very few in number, or that they are not sincere, or that they have not reflected enough on themselves to per­ceive it, or else, that the only reason why comedy has not corrupted their manners, is, because it found them already corrupted, and that they had left it nothing to do in this mat­ter.'

[Page 129]—'God does not impute to us the coldness which proceeds from the withdrawing of his light, or merely from the heaviness of this body; but, no doubt, he imputes to us that, to which we have contributed, by our ne­gligence and our vain diversions. It is his will that we should esteem nothing so much as the gracious gift, which he has made us of his love, and that we should be careful to preserve it by giv­ing it nourishment. This command he has intimated to us in the persons of the priests in the ancient law, whom he ordains always to maintain the fire on the altar, and to take care to put wood upon it, every day in the morn­ing. This altar is the heart of man, and every Christian is the priest, who ought to be careful to nourish the fire of charity on the altar of his heart, by putting wood every day upon it; that is to say, maintaining it by the medita­tion of divine things, and by exercises of piety. Now, if those who go to plays have yet any sense of piety, they cannot disown that plays deaden, and [Page 130] entirely extinguish devotion; so that, they should not doubt, God judges them extremely guilty, for having made so little account of his love, that in­stead of nourishing and endeavouring to augment it, they have not feared to extinguish it by their vain diversions; and that he will impute to them as a great sin, the abatement or the loss of their love to him. For if a dissipation of the goods of the world, and of earth­ly riches, by luxury and gaming, is no little sin, what must be judged of a dissipation of the goods of grace, and of that precious treasure the scripture speaks of, which we ought to purchase, by the loss of all the goods, and all the pleasures of this life?

From CHIEF JUSTICE HALE.

'Beware of too much recreation. Some bodily exercise is necessary, for sedentary men especially; but let it not be too frequent, nor too long. Gam­ing, [Page 131] taverns, and plays, as they are pernicious, and corrupt youth, so, if they had no other fault, they are justly to be declined, in respect of their ex­cessive expense of time, and habituating men to idleness and vain thoughts, and disturbing passions and symptoms, when they are past, as well as while they are used.

CLARKE, in his essay on study, speaking of plays and romances, says, 'By what I have seen of them, I be­lieve, they are generally very indiscreet­ly and foolishly written in a way pro­per to recommend vanity and wicked­ness, rather than discredit them; they have a strong tendency to corrupt and debauch the mind with silly, mischie­vous, notions of love and honor, and other things relating to the conduct of life.'

[Page 132]

The following are taken from the Works of WILLIAM LAW.

CAN any one think that he has a true Christian spirit, that his heart is chang­ed as it ought to be, whilst he is di­verting himself with the polished lewd­ness, profaneness, and impure discour­ses of the stage? Can he think that he is endeavouring to be holy, as Christ is holy, to live by his wisdom, and be full of his spirit, so long as he allows himself in such entertainments? For there is nothing in the nature of Chri­stian holiness, but what is contrary to the spirit and temper of these diver­sions.'

—'You own that God has called you to great purity of con­versation; that you are forbid all fool­ish talking and filthy jestings, as express­ly as you are forbid swearing; and that you are told to let no corrupt communi­cation proceed out of your mouth; and yet you go to a house of corrupt commu­nication; you hire persons to entertain you with ribaldry, profaneness, rant, [Page 133] and impurity of discourse, who are to present you with poisonous sentiments, and lewd imaginations, dressed up in elegant language, and to make wicked, vain, and impure discourse more lively and delightful, than you could possibly have it in any ill company. Is not this sinning with a high hand, and grossly offending against the plainest doctrines of scripture?'

—'As prejudices, the force of education, the authority of num­bers, the way of the world, the ex­ample of great names, may make peo­ple believe, so the same causes may make people act, against all sense and reason, and be guilty of practices which are utterly inconsistent with the puri­ty of their religion.'

—'The pleasures and diver­sions of people are certain means for judging of the state of their minds: no­thing can please or affect us, but what is according to our nature, and which finds something within us that is suita­ble to itself. Had we not inward dis­positions of tenderness and compassion, [Page 134] we should not find ourselves softened with miserable objects. In like man­ner, had we not in our nature lively seeds of those disorders which are acted upon the stage; were there not some inward corruption, that finds itself gra­tified by the irregular passions that are there represented, we should find no more pleasure in the stage than blind men find in pictures. If impure speeches, if wanton amours, if wild passions, and immoral rant, can give us any delight, is it not past all doubt, that we have something of all these disorders in our nature?'

—'There is no doctrine of our blessed Saviour that more con­cerns all Christians, or is more essenti­al to their salvation, than this:' ‘Bles­sed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.’ 'Now take the stage in its best state, when some ad­mired tragedy is upon it; are the ex­travagant passions of distracted lovers, the impure ravings of inflamed heroes, the joys and torments of love, and re­fined [Page 135] descriptions of lusts; are the in­decent actions, the amorous transports, the wanton address of the actors, which make so great a part of the most sober and modest tragedies; are these things consistent with this Christian doctrine of purity of heart?'

—'All people who enter into these houses of entertainment, or contribute the smallest mite towards them, must look on themselves, as hav­ing been, so far, friends to the most powerful instruments of sensuality, and to be guilty of contributing to an open and public exercise of splendid impuri­ty and profaneness. When we encou­rage any good design, either with our consent, our money, or presence, we are apt to take a great deal of merit to ourselves; we presently conclude that we are partakers of all that is good and praise-worthy in it, of all the be­nefit that arises from it, because we are contributors towards it. A man does not think that he has no share in some public charity, because he is but one in [Page 136] ten thousand that contributes towards it; but if it be a religious charity, and attended with great and happy effects, his conscience tells him that he is a sharer of all that great good to which he contributed. Now, let this teach us, how we ought to judge of the guilt of encouraging any thing that is bad, either with our consent, our money, or our presence. We must not consider how much our single part contributes towards it, how much less we contri­bute than several thousands of other people; but we must look at the whole thing in itself; and whatever there is of evil in it, or whatever evil arises from it, we must charge ourselves with a share of the whole guilt of so great an evil.

—'People of fashion and quality have great advantage above the vulgar; their condition and education give them a liveliness and brightness of parts, from whence one might justly expect a more exalted virtue. How comes it then, that we see as ill morals, [Page 137] as little religious wisdom, and as great disorders among them, as among the most rude, uneducated part of the world? It is because the politeness of their lives, their course of diversions and amusements, and their ways of spending their time as much extinguish the wis­dom and light of religion, as the gross­ness and ignorance of the dullest part of the world.—Any way of life that darkens our minds, that misemploys our understanding, that fills us with a tri­fling spirit, that disorders our passions, that separates us from the spirit of God, is the same certain road to destruction, whether it arises from stupid sensuali­ty, rude ignorance, or polite pleasures. Had any one, therefore, the power of an apostle, or the tongue of an angel, it would be well employed, in expos­ing, and dissuading from, those ways of life, which wealth, corruption, and politeness, have brought among us. We indeed only call them diversions; but they do the whole work of idola­try and infidelity, and fill people with [Page 138] so much blindness and hardness of heart, that they neither live by wis­dom, nor feel the want of it, but are content to play away their lives with scarce any attention to the approaching scenes of death, judgment, and eter­nity.'

IT must appear evident to every sober and unprejudiced mind, that the senti­ments of these virtuous and enlightened men, against such dangerous ways of spending our time, are, indeed, solid and awakening truths. Let us, therefore, as rational beings, Christians, who are travelling towards a better country, and are called to renounce the vanities of this perishing world, assert the dignity of our nature, and act conformably to the excellence of our destination. A few fleeting years will bring us all to the verge of an awful scene, where the vain diversions and pastimes of this [Page 139] world will appear in their true light, a most lamentable abuse of that precious time and talent, with which we have been entrusted, for the great purpose of working out our soul's salvation. At that solemn period, the great busi­ness of religion, a pious and virtuous life, dedicated to the love and service of God, will appear of inestimable va­lue, and the only thing worthy the pur­suit of reasonable beings. Happy, therefore, will it be for us, if we be­come wise in time, take up the cross to all ensnaring pleasures, for the few remaining days of our lives, and stea­dily persevere, under the Divine aid, in fulfilling the various duties assigned us, and in making suitable returns to the Author of all good, for the unme­rited blessings which he has abundant­ly poured forth upon us. In these exalted employments, we shall experi­ence the noblest pleasure, and feel no want of empty and injurious enter­tainments, to occupy our minds, or to fill up our time. We shall abhor [Page 140] the pretence of acquiring moral and refined sentiments, from such polluted mixtures, and feel ourselves deeply concerned to discountenance, by our example and influence, those splendid engines of impiety, and dissipation.

THE END.
[Page]

BOOKS SOLD BY Joseph Crukshank.

  • GILBERT'S Law of Evidence: a necessary work for those whose offices require them to examine wit­nesses.
  • Gibson's Treatise on Practical Survey­ing: wherein every thing that is use­ful and curious in that art is fully considered and explained. With al­terations and amendments particu­larly adapted to the use of American surveyors.
  • Robertson's Traverse Tables, construct­ed to every quarter degree of the quadrant.
  • Reid's Essay on the nature and cure of the consumption of the lungs.
  • Milton's Paradise Lost.
  • History of Joseph, a poem. By Eliz. Rowe.
  • [Page 142]Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor and Teacher's Assistant: being a col­lection from the best modern wri­ters; calculated to improve the un­derstanding, rectify the will, purify the passions, and to direct the minds of youth to the pursuit of proper objects.
  • Art of Speaking: in which are given rules for expressing properly the prin­cipal passions and humours, which occur in public speaking.
  • Young's Night Thoughts.
  • A small Collection of Poems: contain­ing, Pope's Messiah and Universal Prayer, Parnell's Hermit, Cotton's Fire-side, Blair's Grave, Gray's Ele­gy, written in a country church-yard, Merrick's Benedicite paraphrased, Goldsmith's Traveller and Deserted Village.
  • Ash's Grammatical Institutes: or an easy introduction to English gram­mar; to which is added, An Essay on Punctuation.
  • Latin Grammar: for the use of the college in Philadelphia.
  • [Page 143]Chapone's Letters on the Improvement of the Mind—on the first principles of religion, on the study of the Ho­ly Scriptures, on the regulation of the heart and affections, on the go­vernment of the temper, on oecono­my, on politeness and accomplish­ments, on geography and chronolo­gy, and on the manner and course of reading history.
  • The Task: a poem in six books; to which is added, Tirocinium, or a review of schools. By William Cow­per, esq
  • Fordyce's Sermons to young Women.
  • Moore's Fables for the Female Sex: to which is added, Dr. Langhorne's Fables of Flora.
  • Lord Chesterfield's Advice to his Son, on men and manners: to which is annexed, The Polite Philosopher: or an essay on the art which makes a man happy in himself, and agree­able to others.
  • Advantages and Disadvantages of the Marriage State, as entered into with religious or irreligious persons.
  • [Page 144]Gesner's Death of Abel.
  • Pocket Farrier: shewing how to use a horse on a journey, and what re­medies are proper for common acci­dents that may befal him; with di­rections for purchasing a horse, in which rules are laid down for disco­vering the perfections and blemishes of that animal.
  • Bartlet's Farrier's Repository of elegant and approved receipts for the diseases of horses.
  • Whittenhall's Latin Grammar.
  • Adminiculum Puerile: or fundamental exercises for school-boys.

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