Appendix III: Death of the Rev. Matthew Henry
1714. Tuesday, June 22. This day brings an affliction. We went, yesterday morning, to Nantwich, to meet dear brother Henry in his return from Chester. When we came to Nantwich he had met with a fall, but no seeming hurt; said he was well, and hastened to chapel, which was filled with hearers, where he preached on Jeremiah xxxi. 18. ‘I have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself thus; Thou hast chastised me and I was chastised, as a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke; turn thou me, and I shall be turned; for thou art the Lord my God.’ (His farewell sermon as it proved.) He did not preach with thai vigour he used to have; was something short, and afterwards, exceedingly heavy and sleepy. He was bled but towards morning grew convulsed, and, about seven or eight o’clock, the immortal spirit took flight to the land of everlastting peace and rest, with very little extremity. He could spend and be spent, and now he has scaled it with his blood. Lord, what is man? If a hair falls not, sure a head, such a head, cannot fall without particular direction or disposal of our heavenly Father. — What is this that God has done unto us? — Well may it be said, ‘We ai*e this day weak, our hands are feeble.’
Wednesday, June 23d. — I went to the place to take leave of the dear earthen vessel, in which was lodged such a treasure, and shall always remember there was nothing of death to be seen in his face, but rather something of a smile. How is the gold become dim, and the fine gold changed! — That head, that hand so fitted for service, now cold and moveless. Lord, what is man, the greatest, the best? When God bids Moses go up and die on Mount Nebo, it is observable, he adds — ‘As Aaron thy brother was gathered to his people.’ Sure this should mind me of my own dissolution, as sprung from the same good olive, and spending our childhood together, in much comfort and pleasure, under that dear and benign shadow. I have reason to think he loved me the best of all his sisters, and it is with satisfaction I think of the love I had for him, and the great unity that was amongst us then, so that I do not remember one angry or unkind word betwixt us. O how happy a thing it is thus to dwell and not have the sting of any unkindness in the reflection. Though I well remember that I have thought my dear mother had most tenderness and love for my brother, yet I was so far from envying for his sake, that I complied with her, and loved him with a pure heart fervently. I remember the many cares and fears I had for him when he was ill of a fever at London, at Mr. Doolittle’s, and the strong cries and tears I offered in secret to my heavenly Father, accompanied with a purpose of a particular act of religion that I would be found in, if God should hear prayer for him, and spare him to us, greatly dreading how my dear parents could bear the stroke, when I saw them so afflicted for the death of Mr. Hosier, his companion and friend. God was graciously pleased then to hearken to our petitions, and give him to us again; but, afler a time, my good purposes (to my shame) proved abortive.
Friday, June 25th. We gathered up the mantle of this dear Elijah; took the dear remains to Chester, lodged them in the silent tomb — ’ the house appointed for all living.’ We laid him in Trinity church (by his dear first wife,) accom”
panied with a vast crowd, desiring to pay their tribute to his blessed memory, for so that of the just man is. Before we came from Nantwich, good Mr. Reynolds, preached in our chapel, from that text — ‘Well done, good and faithful servant.’ He shewed that our Lord Jesus will certainly come again, and reward all his true and faithful servants, and those whom he blesseth, are blessed indeed. One inference I remember (among many good ones) was, if our Lord does own and commend them, he will not be displeased with us for commending them, which, indeed, is comfortable, for this Demetrius had a good report of all men, and we cannot but bear record. May I not be slothful, but a follower of him in faith and holiness, that I may share with him in that blessed rest. We have no reason to weep for him, but for ourselves. Our sins have provoked God to put out this burning and shining light. As to the manner of his death (being on a journey and amongst strangers) I doubt not God had wise and holy ends in so ordering it. Sad, sad, sad tidings to his poor family.
Sabbath, June 27th. Mr. Mottershead preached for dear brother — ‘My father, my father, the chariots of Israel, and the horsemen thereof.’ God will own his faithfid servants living and dying; the angels are fellow-servants with the saints, and will attend them, and guard the precious soul to the pvepared mansions. Many of our crood friends mourn with us. I desire to sit alone and keep silence. God’s will be done, and he docs all well and wisely.
I must not here omit what he himself spoke of to Mr. lUidge, last May, in London, with much affection, and said, it should be his particular saying or motto, “That a holy, heavenly life, spent in the service of Cod, and communion with him, is the most pleasant and comfortable life any one can live in this world.”
Dear brother’s sudden removal has deprived us of many excellent things that would no doubt have dropped from him; he only said once or twice, “I bless God I have inward supports.” Another time he said, “Sin is bitter;” but his head was so soon seized, that it could not be expected, nor did he say one word of his dear wife and children.
What shall we say to these things? ‘The gold is become dim, and the fine gold changed.’ I would be quickened to be doing my great work, because I know not but my great Master may come suddenly. O Lord, cause me to live as I would die. Methinks my heart is so full of this subject of dear brother, that I can scarce turn my thoughts or pen to any other. I trust the removal of such excellent ones will help more to familiarize death to mc, and endear the heavenly glory.
The Sabbath after good Mr. Gardner, at Chester, had the same text with our Mr. Mottershead. Afterwards Mr. Worthington, his assistant, from those words of our dying Lord — Weep not for me, but for yourselves, and your children.’ So I do, and shall. I am, sometimes, ready to say, I shall go to the grave mourning for him, especially for the sake of the young ones — the rising generation.