His Persecutions, Trial, and Death

At length Baxter’s preaching at Acton could no longer be connived at. Information was laid against him, and a warrant was issued for his apprehension. He was taken before two justices of the peace. “When I came,” he writes,” they shut out all persons from the room, and would not give leave for any one person, no, not their own clerk or servant, or the constable, to hear a word that was said between us. Then they told me that I was convicted of keeping conventicles contrary to law, and so they would tender me the Oxford oath. I desired my accusers might come face to face, and that I might see and speak with the witnesses who testified that I kept conventicles contrary to the law, which I denied, as far as I understood law; but they would not grant it. I pressed that I might speak in the hearing of some witnesses, and not in secret; for I supposed theft they were my judges, and that their presence and business made the place a place of judicature, where none should be excluded, or at least some should be admitted. But I could not prevail. Had I resolved on silence, they were resolved to proceed; and I thought a Christian should rather submit to violence, and give place to injuries, than stand upon his right, when it will give others occasion to account him obstinate. I asked them whether I might freely speak for myself, and they said yea; but, when I began to speak, still interrupted me, and put me by. But, with much importunity, I got them once to hear me, while I told them why I took not my meeting to be contrary to law, and why the Oxford act concerned me not, and they had no power to put that oath on me by the act; but all the answer I could get was, ‘That they were satisfied of what they did.’ And when, among other reasonings against their course, I told them, though Christ’s ministers had, in many ages, been men esteemed and used as we now are, and their afflicters had insulted over them, the providence of God had still so ordered it that the names and memory of their silencers and afflicters have been left to posterity for a reproach, insomuch that I wondered that those who fear not God, and care not for their own or the people’s souls, should yet be so careless of their fame, when honor seems so great a matter with them. To which Ross answered,

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that lie desired no greater honor to his name, than liiat it should be remembered of him that he did this against me, and such as I, which he was doing.”

The result of this interview was, that Baxter was fully committed, for six months, to the New Prison, Clcrkcnwell. He begged that his liberty might be granted till the following Monday; but as he would not promise not to preach on the intervening Lord’s day, his request was denied.

The inhabitants of Acton were grieved at the loss of their neighbor, and the more so, as the incumbent of the parish was the means of his imprisonment.” The whole town of Acton were greatly exasperated against the dean when I was going to prison, insomuch that ever since they abhorred him as a selfish persecutor. Nor could he devise to do more to hinder the success of his (seldom) preaching there. But it was his own choice: ‘Let them hate me, so they fear me.’ And so ] finally left that place, being grieved most that Satan had prevailed to stop the poor people in such hopeful beginnings of a common reformation, and that I was to be deprived of the exceeding grateful neighborhood of the Lord Chief Justice Hale, who could scarce refrain tears when he heard of the first warrant for my appearance.

“My imprisonment was, at present, no great suffering to me, for I had an honest jailer, who showed me all the kindness he could. I had a large room, and the liberty of walking in a fair garden; and my wife was never so cheerful a companion to me as in prison, and was very much against my seeking to be released; and she had brought so many necessaries, that we kept house as contentedly and as comfortably as at home, though in a narrower room; and I had the sight of more of my friends in a day, than I had at home in half a year.”

Efforts were made, by his friends, to procure his release, which, in consequence of some informalities in his commitment, were successful. His reflections on his imprisonment show his piety and submission.

“While I stayed in prison, I saw somewhat to blame myself for, and somewhat to wonder at others for, and somewhat to advise my visitors about.

“I blamed myself that I was no more sensible of the spiritual part of my affliction; such as the interruption of my work among the poor people from whom I was removed, and the advantage Satan had got against them, and the loss of my own public liberty, for worshiping in the assemblies of God’s people.

“I marvelled at some who suffered more than I, as Mr. Rutherford, when he was confined to Aberdeen, that their sufferings occasioned them such great joys as they express; which surely was from the free grace of God, to encourage others by their example, and not that their own impatience made them need it much more than at other times. For surely so small a suffering needs not a quarter of the patience which many poor nonconforming ministers, and thousands of others need, that are at liberty; whose own houses, through poverty, are made far worse to them than my prison was to me.

“I found reason to entreat my Acton neighbors not to let their passion against their parson, on my account, hinder them from a due regard to his doctrine, nor from any of the duty which they owed him; and to blame some M^ho aggravated my sufferings, and to tell them that I had no mind to fancy myself hurt before I felt it. I used, at home to confine my-LIFE OF BAXTER.

self voluntarily almost as much. I had ten-fold more public life here, and converse with my friends, tliaii I had at home. If I had been to take lodgings at London for six months, and had not known that this had been a prison, and had knocked at the door and asked for rooms, I should as soon have taken this which I was put into, as most in town, save only for the interruption of my sleep.

“I found cause to desire of my brethren, that, when they suffered, they wouid remember that the design of Satan was more against their souls than their bodies j that it was not the least of his hopes to destroy the love due to those by whom they surfered; to render our superiors odious to the people; and to make us lake such a poor suffering as this for a sign of true grace, instead of faith, hope, love, mortification, and a heavenly mind; and that the loss ef one grain of love was worse than a long imprisonment. Also that it much more concerned us to be sure that we deserve not suffering, than that we be delivered from it; and to see that we wrong not our superiors, than that they wrong not us; seeing we are not near so much hurt by their severities as we are by our sins. Some told me that they hoped this would make me stand a little further from the prelates and their worship than I had done. To whom I answered, that I wondered that they should think that a prison should change my judgment. I rather thought now it was my duty to set a stricter watch upon my passions, lest they should pervert my judgment, and carry me into extremes in opposition to those who afflicted me. If passion made me lose my love, or my religion, the loss would be my own. And truth did not change because I was in a jaiL”

His time was now chiefly occupied in writing and publishing various works on controversial and experimental divinity, and in making some attempts to procure a union between the Presbyterians and Independents. He frequently conversed and corresponded with Dr. Owen on this subject. Owen requested Baxter to draw up a scheme ol” agreement. This scheme Owen attentively considered, but could not adopt. Baxter’s attempts to unite all parties satislied none.

Baxter, with a few others of the nonconformists, defended the practice of occasional attendance and communion in the parish churches where the Gospel was preached. It was, in consequence, currently reported at this time, that he had actually conformed. He was offered preferment in Scotland by the king. A mitre, a professor’s gown, or a surplice, was presented to his choice. But he declined accepting his majesty’s offer. His refusal is contained in his letter to the Earl of Lauderdale, through whom the offer was presented.

“My Lord, — Being deeply sensible of your lord- .ship’s favors, and in special of your liberal offers for my entertainment in Scotland, I humbly return you my very hearty thanks. But these considerations forbid me to entertain any hopes or further thoughts of such a remove:

“1. The experience of my great weakness and decay of strength, and particularly of this last winters pain, and how much worse I am in winter than in summer, doth fully persuade me that I should live but a little while in Scotland, and that in a disabled, useless condition, rather keeping my bed than the pulpit.

“2. I am engaged in writing a book, which, if I could hope to live to finish, is almost all the service

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that I expect to do God and his church more in the world — a Latin Methodus Theologiae; and I can hardly hope to live so long, it requiring near a year’s labor more. Now, if I should go and spend that one half year, or year, which should finish that work, in travel, and the trouble of such a removal, and then leave my intended work undone, it would disappoint me of the ends of my life; for I live only for work, and therefore should remove only for work, and not for wealth and honor, if ever I remove.

“3. If I were there, all that I could hope for were liberty to preach the Gospel of salvation, and especially in some university among young scholars. But I hear that you have enough already for this work, that are like to do it better than I can.

“4. 1 have a family, and in it a mother-in-law, eighty years of age, of honorable extraction and great worth, whom I must not neglect, and who cannot travel. And it is to such a one as I, so great a business to remove a family, and all our goods and books so far, as deters me from thinking of it, having paid so dear for removals these eight years as I have done, and being but yesterday settled in a house which I have newly taken, and that with great trouble and loss of time.

All this concurs to deprive me of this benefit of your lordship’s favor. But, my lord, there are other fruits of it, which I am not altogether hopeless of receiving. When I am commanded to pray for kings, and all in authority, I am allowed the ambition of this preferment, which is all that ever I aspired after: ’ to live a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty.’

“I am weary of the noise of contentious revilers, and have often had thoughts to go into a foreign land. if I could find any, where I might have a healthful air and quietness, that I might but live and die in peace. When I sit in a corner, and meddle with nobody, and hope the world will forget that I am alive, court, city, and country is still filled with clamors against me; and when a preacher wants preferment, his way is to preach or write a book against the nonconformists, and me by name. So that the press and pulpits of some, utter bloody invectives against myself, as if my peace were inconsistent with the kingdom’s happiness. And never did my eyes read such impudent un.lruths, in matter of fact, as these writings contain; and they cry out for answers and reasons of my nonconformity, while they know the law forbids me to answer them unhcensed. I expect not that any favor or justice of my superiors should cure any of this. But a few things I would desire:

“1. If I might but be heard to speak for myself, before I be judged by them, and such things be believed. For to contemn the judgment of my rulers is to dishonor them.

“2. If I might live quietly to follow my private study, and might once again have the use of my books, which I have not seen these ten years, still paying for a room in which they stand at Kidderminster, where they are eaten with worms and rats, having no security for my quiet abode in any place long enough to encourage me to send for them. And if I might have the liberty that every beggar has, to travel from town o town; I mean, but to London, to oversee the press, when any thing of mine is licensed for it. And,

“3. If I be sent to Newgate for preaching Christ’s Gospel, (for I dare not sacrilegiously renounce my calling, to which I am consecrated,) that I may have the fa-L. B. 8*

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vor of a better prison, where I may but walk and write.

“These I should take as very great favors, and acknowledge your lordship my benefactor, if you procure them. For I will not so much injure you as to desire, or my reason as to expect, any greater things; no, not the benefit of the law. I think I broke no law in any of the preachings which I am accused of; and I most confidently think that no law imposes on me the Oxford oath, any more than any conformable minister; and I am past doubting the present mittimus for my imprisonment is quite without law. But if the justices think otherwise now, or at any time, I know no remedy. I have yet a license to preach publicly in London diocess, under the archbishop’s own hand and seal, which is yet valid for occasional sermons, though not for lectures or cures; but I dare not use it, because it is in the bishop’s power to recall it. Would but the bishop, who, one would think, should not be against the preaching of the Gospel, not recall my license, I could preach occasional sermons, which would absolve my conscience from all obligations to private preaching. For it is not maintenance that I expect; I have never received a farthing for my preaching, to my knowledge, since May 1, 1662. I thank God I have food and raiment without being chargeable to any man, which is all that I desire, had I but leave to preach for nothing, and that only where there is a notorious necessity. I humbly crave your lordship’s pardon for this tediousness, and again return you my very great thanks for your great favors; remaining, &c.

“June 24, 1670. Richard Baxter.”

He says:” On October 11, 1672, 1 fell into a dangerous fit of sickness, which God, in his wonted mer cy, in time so far removed as to return me to some capacity of service.

“I had till now forborne, for several reasons, to seek a license for preaching from the king, upon the toleration. But when all others had taken theirs, and were settled in London and other places, as they could get opportunity, I delayed no longer, but sent to seek one, on condition I might have it without the title of Independent, Presbyterian, or any other party, but only as a nonconformist. And before I sent. Sir Thomas Player, chamberlain of London, had procured it me without my knowledge or endeavor. I had sought none hitherto.

“1. Because I was unwilling to be, or seem any cause of that way of liberty, if a better might have been had, and therefore would not meddle in it.

“2. I lived ten miles from London, and thought it not just to come and set up a congregation there, till the ministers had fully settled theirs, who had borne the burden there in the times of the raging plague and fire, and other calamities, lest I should draw away any of their auditors, and hinder their maintenance.

“3. I perceived that no one, that ever I heard of till mine, could get a license, unless he would be entitled in it, a Presbyterian, Independent, or of some sect.

“The 19th of November was the first day, after ten years’ silence, that I preached in a tolerated public assembly, though not yet tolerated in any consecrated church, but only, against law, in my own house.

“Some merchants set up a Tuesday’s lecture in London, to be kept by six ministers at Pinner’s Hall, allowing them twenty shillings a piece each sermon, of whom they chose me to be one.”

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“January 24, 1672-3, I Degaii a Friday lecture at Mr. Turner’s church in New-street, near Fetter-lane, with great convenience and God’s encouraging blessing; but I never took a penny of money for it of any one. And on the Lord’s days I had no congregation to preach to, but occasionally to any that desire me, being unwilling to set up a church and become the pastor of any, or take maintenance, in this distracted and unsettled way, unless further changes shall manifest It to be my duty. Nor did I ever yet administer the Lord’s supper to any one person, but to my old flock at Kidderminster.”

“On February 20th I took my house in Bloomsbury, in London, and removed thither with my family; God having mercifully given me three years’ great peace among quiet neighbors at Totteridge, and much more health and ease than I expected, and some opportuni* ty to serve him.”

In this situation he continued for some time, employing his flying pen and his unwearied efforts to promote the peace of the churches and to instruct and bless mankind. In April, 1674, he writes,” God has so much increased my languishing, and laid me so low, that I have reason to think that my time on earth will not be long. And O how good has the will of God proved hitherto to me! And will it not be best at last? Experience causes me to say to his praise, ‘Great peace have they that love his law, and nothing shall offiend them;’ and though my flesh and heart fail, God is the rock of my heart and my portion for ever.

“At this time came out my book called ‘The Poor Man’s Family Book,’ which the remembrance of the great use of Mr. Dent’s ‘Plain Man’s Pathway to Heaven,’ now laid by, occasioned me to write for poor country families, who cannot buy or read many books.”

Anxiously bent on doing good, and encouraged by the reception and success his “Poor Man’s Family Book” met with, he prepared several other works for the promotion and increase of family religion. Ho justly believed that domestic piety was of the utmost importance for the maintenance and progress of Christianity. To promote “household religion” he employed all his energies while at Kidderminster. In his “Ro formed Pastor,” he urges ministers seriously to consider the subject. He says: “The life of religion, and the welfare and glory, both of the church and state, depend much on family government and duty. If wo suffer the neglect of this, we shall undo all. What are we like to do ourselves for reforming a congregation, if all the work be cast on us alone, and masters of families neglect that necessary duty of their own by which they are bound to help us? If any good be begun by the ministry in any soul, a careless, prayerless, worldly family, is likely to stifle it, or very much hinder it; whereas, if you could but get the rulers of families to do their duty, to take up the work where you left it, and help it on, what abundance of good might be done! I beseech you, therefore, if you desire the reformation and welfare of your people, do all you can to promote family religion.”

He prosecuted his Master’s work with unwearied zeal, though suffering great bodily affliction, and exposed to much vexatious and embarrassing opposition.

He says:” Taking it to be my duty to preach while toleration continues, I removed, the last spring, to London, where my diseases, increasing this winter, a constant head-ache added to the rest, and continuing

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stronor for about half a year, constrained me to cease my Friday’s lecture, and an afternoon sermon on the Lord’s days in my house, to my grief; and to preach only one sermon a week, at St. James’s market-house where some had hired an inconvenient place. But i had great encouragement to labor there, because O) the notorious necessity of the people; it being the habitation of the most ignorant, aiiieistical, and popish about London; and because, beyond my expectation, the people generally proved exceedingly willing, and attentive, and tractable, and gave me great hopes o’, much success.”

“On July 5, 1G74, at our meeting over St. Jamesp market-house, God vouchsafed us a great deliveiance. A main beam, before weakened by the weight of the people, so cracked, that three times they ran ifx terroi out of the room, thinking it was falling; but lemembering the like at Dunsian’s in the west, I reproved their fear as causeless. But the next day, takmg up the boards, we found that two rents in the beam wer& so great that it was a wonder of Providence that ihu floor had not fallen, and the roof with it, to the destruction of multitudes. The Lord make us thankful!’

It pleased God to give me marvellous encouragement in my preaching at St. James’s. The crack having, frightened away most of the richer sort, especially th». women, most of the congregation were young men, of the most capable age, who heard with great atien lion; and many that had not come to church for many years, manifested so great a change, (some papiotfi and divers others, returning public thanks to God (<u their conversion) as made all my charge and trouckeasy to me. An. )ng all the popish, rude, and ignoiaa* people who were inhabitants of those parts, we had scarcely any that opened their mouths agahist us, and that did nut speak well of the preaching of the word among them; though, when I came first thither, the most knowing inhabitants assured me that some of the same persons wished my death. Among the ruder sort, a common reformation was noticed in the place, in their conversation as well as in their judgments.”

“The dangerous crack over the market-house at St. James’s, made many desire that I had a larger safer place for meeting. And though my own dullness, and great backwardness to troublesome business, made me very averse to so great an undertaking, judging that, it being in the face of the court, it would never be endured, yet the great and incessant importunity of many, out of a fervent desire of the good of souls, constrained me to undertake it. And when it was almost finished, in Oxendon-street, Mr. Henry Coventry, one of his majesty’s principal secretaries, who had a house joining to it, and was a member of parliament, spake twice against it in the parliament; but no one seconded him.”

“And that we might do the more good, my wife urged the building of another meeting place in Bloomsbury, for Mr. Reed, to be furthered by my sometimes helping him: the neighborhood being very full of people, rich and poor.

“I was so long wearied with keeping my doors shut against them that came to distrain on my goods for preaching, that I was induced to go from my house, and to sell all my goods, and to hide my library first, and afterwards to sell it. So that if books had been my treasure, and I valued little more on earth, I had been now without a treasure. About twelve years I was driven a hundred miles from them; and when I

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had paid dear for the carriage, after two or three years 1 was forced to sell Ihem. And the prelates, to hinder me from preaching, deprived me also of these private comforts. But God saw that lliey were my snare. We brought nothing into the world, and we must carry nothing out.

I was the more willing to part with goods, books, and all, that I might have nothing to be distrained, and so go on to preach. And accordingly removing my dwelling to the new chapel which I had built, I purposed to venture there to preach, there being forty thousand persons in the parish, as is supposed, more than can hear in the parish church, who have no place to go to for God’s public worship. So that I set not up church against church, but preached to those that must else have none, being unwilling that London should turn atheists, or live worse than infidels. But when I had preached there but once, a resolution was taken to surprise me the next day, and send me for six months to the common jail, upon the act for the Oxford oath. Not knowing of this, it being the hottest part of the year, I agreed to go for a few weeks into the country, twenty miles oif. But the night before I should go, I fell so ill that I was induced to send to disappoint both the coach and my intended companion, Mr. Silvester. And when I was thus fully resolved to stay, it pleased God, after the ordinary coach hour, that three men, from three parts of the city, met at my house accidentally, just at the game time, almost to a minute, of whom, if any one had not been there, I had not gone, namely, the coachman again to urge me, Mr. Silvester, whom I had put off, and Dr. Coxe, who compelled me, and told me he would carry me into the coach. It proved a special merciful providence of God; for after one week of languishing and pain, I had nine weeks greater ease than ever I expected in this world, and greater comfort in my work. My good friend Richard Berisford, Esq. clerk of the exchequer, whose importunity drew me to his house, spared no cost, labor, or kindness for my health or service.”

Baxter was now constantly harassed with informations, fines, and warrants of distress, but he bore them all with astonishing meekness and patience. He endeavored to convince and convert the informers and ofRcens, who, on several occasions, came to apprehend him. In some cases his exhortations were successful, il not to their actual conversion, at least to induce them to relinquish their persecuting practices.

A striking instance of his placable and forgiving disposition is given in the following extract. “Keting, the informer, being commonly detested for prosecuting me, was cast into jail for debt, and wrote to me to endeavor his deliverance, which I did; and in his letters says, ‘Sir, I assure you I do verily believe that God lias bestowed all this affliction on me because I was so vile a wretch as to trouble you. And I assme you I never did a thing in my life that has so much troubled myself as that did. I pray God to forgive me. And truly, I do not think of any that went that way to work, that ever God would favor with his mercy. And truly, without great mercy from God, I do not think that ever I shall thrive or prosper. And I hope you will be pleased to pray to God for me.’”

Baxter considered that the “vows of God were upon him,” and that he must continue to preach wherever Divine providence opened a door for the purpose. His obligations to God he considered superior to those by which he was bound to obey the ordinances of man L. B. 9

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and therefore, though forbidden by law, and in despite of persecution, be continued to preach the Gospel to his ignorant and perishing countrymen.

He says: “Being driven from home, and having an old license of the bishop’s yet in force, by the countenance of that, and the great industry of Mr. Berisford, I had leave and invitation for ten Lord’s days to preach in the churches round about. The first that I preached in, after thirteen years’ ejection and prohibition, was Rickmanworth, and after that, at Sarratt, at King’s Langley, at Chesham, at Charlfont, and at Amersham, and that often twice a-day. Those heard who had not come to church for seven years; and two or three thousand heard, where scarcely a hundred were wont to come; and with so much attention and willingness, as gave me very great hopes that I never spalve to them in vain. And thus soul and body had these special mercies.”

“When I had been kept a whole year from preaching in the chapel which I built, on the IGlh of April, 1676, I began in another, in a tempestuous time; such was the necessity of the parish of St. Martin’s, where about 60,000 souls have no church to go to, nor any public worship of God! How long, Lord!”

“Being denied forcibly the use of the chapel which I had built, I was forced to let it stand empty, and pay thirty pounds per annum for the ground-rent myself, and glad to preach for nothing, near it, at a chapel built by another, formerly in Swallow-street, because it was among the same poor people that had no preaching.”

Interruptions and informations were so numerous at Swallow-street that he was obliged to discontinue his labors there. It pleagcd God to take away, by torment of the stone, that excellent faithful minister, Mr. Thomas Wadsworth, in Soiuhwark; and just when I was thus kept out at Swallow-street, his flock invited me to South wark, where, though I refused to be their pastor, I preached many months in peace, there being no justice willing to disturb us.”

“When Dr. Lloyd became pastor of St Martin’s in the Fields, I was encouraged by Dr. Tillotson to olfer him my chapel in Oxendon-street for public worship, which he accepted, to my great satisfaction, and now there is constant preaching there. Be it by conformist or nonconformists, I rejoice that Christ is preached.”

His reputation, too, was assailed. He was charged with uttering falsehood, and with the crime of murder! He was able, however, successfully to refute the calumnies, and to confound his calumniators.

About this period, 1681, Baxter was called to endure a severe and trying providence, in the death of his wife. They had lived together nineteen years. She had been ijis companion in tribulation; his comforter in sorrow. Animated by her piety and her influence, he had persevered in all his attempts to do good. But, now, ia the advance of life, in weakened health, in persecution, and in no distant prospect of imprisonment, he was left to pursue his journey alone. She died in the faith and hope of the Gospel, June 17, 1681.

He still pursued his studies and hia occasional labors.” Having been for retirement in the country, from July till August 14, 1682, returning in great weakness, I was able only to preach twice, of which the last was in my usual lecture in New-street, and it fell out to be August 24, just that day twenty years, that I, and near two thousand more, had been by law forbidden to preach any more. I was sensible of God’s wonderful

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mercy that had kept so many of us twenty years in so much liberty and peace, while so many severe laws were in force against us, and so great a number were round about us who wanted neither malice nor power to afflict us. And so I took, that day, my leave of the pulpit and public work, in a thankful congregation. And it is like, indeed, to be my last.

“But after this, when I had ceased preaching, I was, being newly arisen from extremity of pain, suddenly surprised in my house by a poor violent informer, and many constables and officers, who rushed in and apprehended me, and served on me one warrant to seize on my person, for coming within five miles of a corporation; and five more warrants, to distrain for a hundred and ninety pounds for five sermons. They cast my servants into fears, and were about to take all my books and goods, and I contentedly went with them towards the justice to be sent to jail, and left my house to their will. But Dr. Thomas Coxe, meeting me, forced me in again to my couch and bed, and went to five justices and took his oath, without my knowledge, that I could not go to prison without danger of death. Upon that the justices delayed a day, till they could speak with the king, and told him what the doctor had sworn; and the king consented that the present imprisonment should be forborne, that I might die at home. But they executed all their warrants on my books and goods, even the bed that I lay sick on, and sold them all; and some friends paid them as much money as they were prized at, which I repaid.”

“When I borrowed some necessaries I was never the quieter; for they threatened to come upon me again and take all as mine, whosesoever it was, which they found in my possession. So that 1 had no remedy, but utterly to forsake my house, and goods, and all, and take secret lodgings distant in a stranger’s house. But having a long lease of my own house, which binds me to pay a greater rent than now it is worth, wherever I go I must pay that rent.

“The separation from my books would have been a greater part of my small aflliclion, but that I found I was near the end both of that work and life which needeth books, and so I easily let go all. Naked came I into the world, and naked must I go out.

“But I never wanted less what man can give, than when men had taken all. My old friends, and strangers to me, were so liberal, that I was constrained to check their bounty. Their kindness was a surer and larger revenue to me than my own.

“But God was pleased quickly to put me past all fear of man, and all desire of avoiding suflering from them by concealment, by laying on me more himself than man can do. Their imprisonment, with tolerable health, would have seemed a palace to me; and had they put me to death for such a duty as they persecute me for, it would have been a joyful end of my calamity. But day and night I groan and languish under God’s just afflicting hand. As waves follow waves in the tempestuous seas, so one pain and danger follows another in this sinful miserable flesh. I die daily, and yet remain alive. God, in his great mercy knowing my dullness in health and ease, makes it much easier to repent and hate ray sin, and loath myself, and contemn the world, and submit to the sentence of death with willingness, than otherwise it was ever like to have been. 0 how little is it that wrathful enemies can do against us, in comparison of what our sin and the justice of God can do! And O how little is it that

L. B. 9* the best and kindest of friends can do for a pained body or a guilty soul, in comparison of one gracious look or word from God! Wo be to liiin that has no better help than man: and blessed is he whose help and hope is in the Lord.’’

“While I continued, night and day, under constant pain, and often strong, and under the sentence of approaching death by an incurable disease, which age and great debility yields to, I found great need of the constant exercise of patience by obedient submission to God: and, writing a small Tract of it for my own use, I saw reason to yield to them that desired it might be published, there being especially so common need of ’ obedient patience. ‘”

“Under my daily pains 1 was drawn to a work which I had never the least thoughts of, and is like to be the last of my life, to write a paraphrase on the New Testament. Mr. John Humphrey having long importuned me to write a paraphrase on the Epistle to the Romans, when I had done that, the usefulness of it to myself drew me farther and farther, till I had done all. But having confessed my ignorance of the Revelation, and )^et unwilling wholly to omit it, I gave but general notes, with the reasons of my uncertainty in the greatest difficulties, which I know will fall under the sharp censure of many. But truth is more valuable than such men’s praises. I fitted the whole, by plainness, to the use of ordinary families.

“After many times deliverance from the sentence of death, on November 20, 1684. in the very entrance of the seventieth year of my age, God was pleased so greatly to increase my painful diseases, as to pass on me the sentence of a painful death. But God turns it to my good, and gives me a greater willingness to die than I once thought I should ever have attained. The Lord teach me more fully to love his will and rest therein, as much better than my own, that often strives against it.

“A little before this, while I lay in pain and languishing, the justices of sessions sent warrants to apprehend me, about a thousand more being also on the list, to be all bound to good behavior. I thought they would send me six months to prison for not taking the Oxford oath, and dwelling in London, and so I refused to open my chamber door to them, their warrant not being to break it open. But they set six officers at my study door, who watched all night, and kept me from my bed and food; so that the next day I yielded to them, who carried me, scarce able to stand, to their sessions, and bound me, in a four hundred pounds’ bond, to good behavior. I desired to know what my crime was, and who were my accusers; but they told me it was for no fault, but to secure the government in evil times; and that they had a list of many suspected persons, who must do the like as well as I. I desired to know for what I was numbered with the suspected, and by whose accusation; but they gave me good words, and would not tell me. I told them I would rather they would send me to jail than put me in circumstances to wrong others by being bound with me in bonds that I was like to break to-morrow; for if there did but five persons come in when I was praying, they would take it for a breach of good behavior. They told me not, if they came on other business unexpectedly, and not to a set meeting; nor yet if we did nothing contrary to law, or the practice of the church. I told them our innocency was not now any security to us. If two beggar women did but stand in the street

LIFE OF BAXTER.

and swear that I spake contrary to the law, though they heard me not, my bonds and liberty were at their will; fori myself, lying on my bed, heard Mr. I. R. preach in a chapel on the other side of my chamber, and yet one Sibil Dash and Elizabeth Cappell swore to the justices that it was another that preached; two miserable poor women that made a trade of it, and had thus sworn against very many worthy persons in Hackney and elsewhere, on which their goods were seized for fines. But to all this I received no answer. I must give bond.

“But all this is so small a part of my suffering, in comparison of what I bear in my flesh, that I could scarce regard it; and it is small in comparison of what others suffer. Many excellent persons die in common jails: thousands are ruined. That holy humble man, Mr. Rosewell, is now under a verdict for death as a traitor for preaching some words, on the witness and oath of Hilton’s wife, and one or two more women, whose husbands live professedly on the trade, for which he claims many hundred or thousand pounds. And not only the man declares, but many of his hearers witness, that no such words were spoken, nor any that did not become a loyal, prudent man.

“December 11, I was forced, in all my pain and weakness, to be carried to the sessions-house, or else my bond of four hundred pounds would have been judged forfeited. And the more moderate justices, that promised my discharge, would none of them be there, but left the work to Sir William Smith and the rest, who openly declared that they had nothing against me, and took me for innocent, but yet I must continue Lnmuq, lest others should expect to be discharged also, which 1 openly refused. But my sureties would be bound, lest I should die in jail, against my declared will, and so I must continue.”

“January 17. I was forced again to be carried to the sessions, and after divers days good words, which put me in expectation of freedom, when I was gone, one

justice, Sir Deerham, said it was probable that

these persons solicited for my liberty that they might come to hear me in conventicles; and on that they bound me again in a four hundred pounds’ bond for above a quarter of a year, and so it is likely to be till I die, or worse; though no one ever accused me for any conventicle or preaching since they took, all my books and goods above two years ago, and 1, for the most part, keep my bed.”

His greatest trial was now hastening. His “Paraphrase on the New Testament” gave great offence in certain quarters, and was made the ground of a trial for sedition.

The following account of this extraordinary trial and its issue are given by Calamy, and in a letter from a person who was present on the occasion:

“On the 28th of February Baxter was committed to the King’s-Bench prison, by warrant of Lord Chief Justice Jefferies, for his ‘Paraphrase on the New Testament,’ which had been printed a little before, and which was described as a scandalous and seditious book against the government. On his commitment by the chief justice’s warrant, he applied for a Ijabeas corpus, and having obtained it, he absconded into the country to avoid imprisonment, till the term approached. He was induced to do this from the constant pain he endured, and an apprehension that he could not bear the confinement of a prison.

“On the 6th of May, which was the first day of the

LIFE OF BAXTER,

term, he appeared in Westminster-Hal], and an inA)rmation was then drawn up against him. On the 14iji of May he pleaded not guilty to the information. On the 18th of the same month, being much indisposed, it was moved that he might have further time given him before his trial, but this was denied him. He moved for it by his counsel; but Jefferies cried out, in a passion, ‘I will not give him a minute’s time more, to save his life. We have had to do,’ said he, with other sorts of persons, but now we have a saint to deal with; and I know how to deal with saints as well as sinners. Yonder,’ said he, ’ stands Oates in the pillory,’ (as he actually did at that very time in the new Palace Yard,) ’ and he says he suffers for the truth, and so says Baxter; but if Baxter did but stand on the other side of the pillory with him, I would say, two of the greatest rogues and rascals in the kingdom stood there.’

“On May 30, in the afternoon, Baxter was brought to trial before the lord chief justice at Guild-hall. Sir Henry Ashurst, who would not forsake his own and his father’s friend, stood by him all the while. Baxter came first into court, and with all the marks of sincerity and composure, waited for the coming of the lord chief justice, who appeared quickly after, with great indignation in his face.

“‘When I saw,’ says an eye witness, ’ the meek man stand before the flaming eyes and fierce looks of this bigot, I thought of Paul standing before Nero. The barbarous usage which he received drew plenty of tears from my eyes, as well as from others of the auditors and spectators.

“Jefferies no sooner sat down than a short cause was called and tried; after which the clerk began to read the title of another cause. ‘You blockhead,’ said J«ffcrics, ’ the next cause is between Richard Baxter and the king:’ upon which Baxter’s cause was called.

“On the jury being sworn, Baxter objected to them, as incompetent to his trial, owing to its peculiar nature. The jurymen being tradesmen, and not scholars, he alledged they were incapable of pronouncing whether his ‘Paraphrase’ was or was not according to the original text. He therefore prayed that he might have a jury of learned men, though the one-half of them should be papists. This objection, as might have been expected, was overruled by the court.

“The king’s counsel opened the information at large, with its aggravations. Mr. Pollexfen, Mr. Wallop, Mr. i Williams, Mr. Rotherham,Mr. Atwood,and Mr. Phipps, I were Baxter’s counsel, and had been engaged by Sir Henry Ashurst.

“Pollexfen then rose and addressed the court and the jury. He stated that he was counsel for the prisoner, and felt that he had a very unusual plea to manage. He had been obliged, he said, by the nature of the cause, to consult all our learned commentators, many of whom, learned, pious, and belonging to the church of England too, concurred with Mr. Baxter in his paraphrase ‘of those passages of Scripture which were objected to in the indictment, and by whose help he would be enabled to manage his client’s cause. ‘I shall begin,’ said he, ‘with Dr. Hammond: and, gentlemen, though Mr. Baxter made an objection against you, as not fit judges of Creek, which has been overruled, I hope you understand English common sense, and can read.’ To which the foreman of the jury made a profound bow, and said, ‘Yes, sir,’

“On this the chief justice burst upon Pollexfen like h fury, and told him he should not sit there to hear

LIFE OF BAXTER.

him preach. ‘No, my lord,- said Pollexfen, ‘I am coiiii sel for Mr. Baxter, and shall ofler nothing but what is to the point.’ ‘Why, this is not,* said Jefferies, ‘that you cant to the jury beforehand.” I beg your lordship’s pardon,’ said the counsel, ‘and f?hall then proceed to business.” Come then,’ said Jefferies, ’ what do you say to this count? read it, clerk:’ referring to the paraphrase on Mark, 12: 38-40. ‘Is he not, novr, an old knave, to interpret this as belonging to liturgies?’ ‘So do others,’ replied Pollexfen, ‘of the church of England, who would be loth so to wrong the cause of liturgies as to make them a novel invention, or not to be able to date them as early as the scribes and pharisees.’ ‘No, no, Mr. Pollexfen,’ said the judge: ’ they were long-winded, extempore prayers, such as they used to say when they appropriated God to themselves: “Lord, we are thy people, thy peculiar people, thy dear people.”’ And then he clenched his hands and lifted up his eyes, mimicking their manner, and running on furiously, as he said they used to pray. ‘Pollexfen,’ said Jefferies, ’ this is an old rogue, who has poisoned the w’orid with his Kidderminster doctrine. Don’t we know how he preached formerly, “Curse yeMeroz; curse them bitterly that come not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty.” He encouraged all the women and maids to bring their bodkins and thimbles to carry on their war against the king, of ever blessed memory. An old schismatical knave, a hypocritical villain’.’

“Mr. AVallop said that he conceived the matter depending being a point of doctrine, it ought to be referred to the bishop, his ordinary: but if not, he humbly conceived the doctrine was innocent and justifiable, setting aside the inuendos, for which there Mas no color, there being no antef’edent to refer them to, (i. e. no bishop or clergy of the church of England named;) he said the book accused contained many eternal truths: but they who drew the information were the libellers, in applying to the prelates of the church of England those severe things which were written concerning some prelates who deserved the characters which he gave. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘I humbly conceive the bishops Mr. Baxter speaks of, as your lordship, if you have read church history, must confess, were the plagues of the church and of the world.’

“Mr. Rotherham urged ‘that if Mr. Baxter’s book had sharp reflections upon the church of Rome by name, but spake well of the prelates of the church of England, it was to be presumed that the sharp reflections were intended only against the prelates of the church of Rome.’ The lord chief justice said, ‘Baxter was an enemy to the name and thing, the oflce and persons of bishops.’ Rotherham added, that Baxter frequently attended divine service, went to the sacrament, and persuaded others to do so too, as was certainly and publicly known; and had, in the very book so charged, spoken very moderately and honorably of thr bishops of the church of England.’

“Baxter added, ‘My lord, I have been so moderate with respect to the cluirch of England, that I have incurred the censure of many of the dissenters upon that account.’ ‘Baxter for bishops!’ exclaimed Jefferies, ’ that is a merry conceit indeed: turn to it, turn to it. Upon this Rotherham turned to a place where it is said ‘that great respect is due to those truly called to be bishops among us; or to that purpose. ‘Ay,’ said Jefferies, ‘this is your Presbyterian cant; truly called Ui nf bishops: that is himself, and such rascals, called I,. B. 10

HO

tlFE OF -BAXTER.

10 be bishops of Kidderminster, and other such places. Bishops set apart by such factious Presbyterians as himself: a Kidderminster bishop he means. ’

Baxter beginning to speak again, Jefferies reviled him; ‘Richard, Richard, dost thou think we’ll hear lliee poison the court? Richard, thou art an old fellow, an old knave; thou hast written books enough to load a cart, every one as full of sedition, I might say treason, as an egg is of meat. Hadst thou been whipped out of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had been happy. Thou pretendest to be a preacher of the Gospel of peace, and thou hast one foot in the grave: it is lime for thee to begin to think what account thou ialendest to give. But, leave thee to thyself, and I see thou’lt go on as thou hast begun; but, by the grace of God, I’ll look after thee. I know thou l»ast a mighty party, and I see a great many of the brotherhood in corners, waiting to see what will become of their mighty don; and a doctor of the party (looking at Dr. Bates) at your elbow; but, by the grace of Almighty God, I’ll crush you all. Come, what do you say for yourself, you old knave? come, speak up! What doth he say? I am not afraid of you, for all the snivelling calves you have about you:’ alluding to some persons who were in tears about Mr. Baxter. ‘Your lordship need not be,’ said the holy man; ‘for I’ll not hurt you. But these things will surely be understood one day what fools one sort of protestants are made to persecute the other!’ And, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he said, ‘I am not concerned to answer such stuff; but am ready to produce my writings for the confutation of all this; and my life and conversation are known to many in this nation.’” Mr. Rotherham sitting down, Mr. Atwood began lU

to show that not one of the passages mentioned in the information ought to be strained to the sense which was put upon them by the inuendos; they being more natural when taken in a milder sense: nor could any one of them be applied to the prelates of the church of England, without a very forced construction. To prove this, he would have read some of the text: but Jefferies cried out, ‘You shan’t draw me into a conventicle with your annotations, nor your snivelling parson neither.” My lord,’ said Mr. Atwood, ’ that I may use the best authority, permit me to repeat your lordship’s own words in that case.’ ‘No, you shan’t,’ said he: ‘you need not speak, for you are an author already; though you speak and write impertinently.’ Atwood replied, ‘I can’t help that, my lord, if my talent be no better; but it is my duty to do my best for my client.’

“Jefferies then went on inveighing against what Atwood had published; and Atwood justified it as in defence of the English constitution, declaring that he never disowned any thing that he had written Jefferies several times ordered him to sit down; but he still went on. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘I have matter of law to urge for my client.’ He then proceeded to cite several cases wherein it had been adjudged that words ought to be taken in the milder sense, and not to be strained by inuendos, ‘Well,’ said Jefferies, when he had done, ’ you have had your say.’

“Mr. Williams and Mr. Phipps said nothing, for they saw it was to no purpose. At last Baxter himself said, ‘My lord, I think I can clearly answer all that is laid to my charge, and I shall do it briefly. The sum is contained in these few papers, to which I shall add a little by testimony ‘But he would not hear a word.

LIFE OF BAXTER.

At length the chief justice summed up the matter in a long and fulsome harangue, ‘it was notoriously known,’ he said, ’ there had been a design to ruin the king and the nation. The old game had been renewed; and this person had been the main incendiary. He is as modest now as can be; but time was, when no man was so ready at, “Bind your kings in chains, and your nobles in fetters of iron and, ‘• To your tents, O Israel.” Gentlemen, (with an oath,) don’t let us be gulled twice in an age.’ And when he concluded, he told the jury ’ that if they in their consciences believed he meant the bishops and clergy of the church of England in the passages which the information referred to, and he could mean nothing else, they must find him guilty. If not, they must find him not guilty.” When he had done, Baxter said to him, ‘Does your lordship think any jury will pretend to pass a verdict upon me upon such a trial?” I’ll warrant you, Mr. Baxter,’ said he, ’ don’t you trouble yourself about that.’

“The jury immediately laid their heads together at the bar, and found him guilty. As he was .going from the bar, Baxter told the lord chief justice, who had so loaded him with reproaches, and still continued them, that a predecessor of his had had other thoughts of him; upon which he replied, ‘that there was not an honest man in England but what look him for a great knave.’ Baxter had subpoenaed several clergymen, who appeared in court, but were of no use to him, through the violence of the chief justice. Th:; trial being over, Sir Henry Ashurst led him througu the crowd, and conveyed him away in his coach.”

This is a faithful portrait of Jefferies, who furnished Bunyan with the features of his chief justice, iho Lord Hategood, Can we be insensible to the mercies we enjoy in the very different administration of justice ill our own times?

“On the 2Sth of June Baxter had judgment given against him. He was fined five hundred marks, condemned to lie in prison till he paid it, and bound to his good behavior for seven years. It is said that Jefferies proposed a corporal punishment, namely, whipping through the city; but his brethren would not accede to it. In consequence of which the fine and imprisonment were agreed to.

“Baxter being unable to pay the fine, and aware that, though he did, he might soon be prosecuted again, on some equally unjust pretence, went to prison. Here he was visited by his friends, and even by some of the respectable clergy of the church, who sympathised with his sufferings and deplored the injustice he received. He continued in this imprisonment nearly two years, during which he enjoyed more quietness than he had done for many years before.

“An imprisonment of two years would have been found very trying and irksome to most men; to Baxter, however, it does not appear to have pro led so painful, though he had now lost his beloved wife, who had frequently before been his companion in solitude and suffering. His friends do not appear to have neglected or forgotten him. The following extract of a letter from the well known Matthew Henry, presents a pleasing view of the manner in which he endured bonds and afflictions for Christ’s sake. It is addressed to his father, and dated the 17th of November, 1685, when Baxter had been several months confined. Mr. Williams justly remarks, ‘It is one of those pictures of days which are past, which, if rightly viewed,” produce lasting and beneficial effects; emotions of sa*

L. B. IQ*

LIFE OF BAXTER.

cied sorrow for the iniquity of persecution, and animating praise that the demon in these happy days of iranquillity is restrained, though not destroyed.’

“’ 1 went into Southwark, to Mr. Baxter. I was to wait upon him once before, and then he was busy. 1 found him in pretty comfortable circumstances, though a prisoner, in a private house near the prison, attended by his own man and maid. My good friend Mr. Samuel Lawrence went with me. He is in as good health as one can expect; and, methinis, looks better, and speaks heartier, than when I saw him last. The token you sent he would by no means be persuaded to accept (and was almost angry when I pressed it) from one ejected as well as himself. He said he did not use to receive; and I understand since, his need is not great.

We sat with him about an hour. He gave us some good counsel to prepare for trials, and said the best preparation for them was a life of faith and a constant course of self-denial. He thought it harder constantly to deny temptations to sensual appetites and pleasures, than to resist one single temptation to deny Christ for fear of suffering; the former requiring such constant watchfulness; however, after the former, the latter will be the easier. He said, we who are young are apt to count upon great things, but we must not look for them; and much more to this purpose. He said he thought dying by sickness usually much more painful and dreadful than dying a violent death, especially considering the extraordinary supports which those have who suffer for righteousness’ sake.”

Various cff’orts were made by his friends to have his fine rei]iitled, which, after considerable delay, was accomplished.

“Oa the 24ih of ANovember, 1686, Sir Samuel Asirey sent his warrant to the keeper of the King’s Bench prison to discharge Baxter. He gave sureties, however, for his good behavior, his majesty declaring, for his satisfaction, that it should not be interpreted a breach of good behavior for him to reside in London, which was not inconsistent with the Oxford act. After this release he continued to live some time within the rules of the Bench; till, on the 28th of February, 1687, he removed to his house in the Charterhouse-yard; and again, as far as his health would permit, assisted Mr. Sylvester in his public labors.”

“Afier his injurious confinement,” says his friend. Sylvester, in the funeral sermon which he preached for Baxter,” he settled in Charterhouse-yard, in Rutlandhouse, and bestowed his ministerial assistance gratis upon me. Thereupon he attended every Lord’s day in the morning, and every other Thursday morning at a weekly lecture. Thus were we yoked together in our ministerial work and trust, to our great mutual satisfaction; and because his respects to me, living and dying, were very great, I cannot but the more feel the loss. I had the benefit and pleasure of always free access to him, and instant conversation with him; and by whom could I profit more than by himself? So ready was he to communicate his thoughts to me, and so clearly would he represent them, as that I may truly say, it was greatly my own fault if he left me not wiser than he found me, at all times.

“After he had continued with me about four years and a half he was disabled from going forth to his ministerial work; so that what he did he performed for the residue of his life in his own hired house, where he opened his doors, morning and evening, every day, to all that would come to join in family worship with tiFE or BAXTER.

him; to whom he read the Holy Scriptures, from whence he ’ preached the kingdom of God, and taught those things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, with all confidence, no man forbidding him,’ Acts, 28: 30, 31, even as one greater than himself had done before him. But, alas, his growing diseases and infirmities soon forbade this also, confining him first to his chamber, and after to his bed. There, through pain and sickness, his body wasted; but his soul abode rational, strong in faith and hope, preserving itself in that patience, hope, and joy, through grace, which gave him great support, and kept out doubts and fears concerning his eternal welfare.”

He still labored with his pen. Even on the vary bordersof eternity he was desirous to improve the fleeting moments. “He continued to preach,” Dr. Bates observes, in his funeral discourse, “so long, notwithstanding his wasted, languishing body, that the last time he almost died in the pulpit. Not long after, he felt the approaches of death, and was confined to his sick-bed. Death reveals the secrets of the heart; then words are spoken with most feeling and least affectation. This excellent man was the same in his life and death; his last hours were spent in preparing others and himself to appear before God. He said to his friends that visited him, ‘You come hither to learn to die; I am not the only person that must go this way. I can assure you that your whole life, be it ever so long, is little enou.^h to prepare for death. Have a care of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the flesh; be sure you choose God for your portion, heaven for your home, God’s glory for your end, his word for your rule, and then you need never fear but wo shall meet with comfort.’

“Never was penitent sinner more humble, never was a sincere believer more calm and comfortable. He acknowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill worm (it was his usual expression) that ever went to heaven. He admired the divine condescension to us, often saying, ‘Lord, what is man; what am I, vile worm, to the great God!’ Many times he prayed, ‘God be merciful to me a sinner,’ and blessed God that this was left upon record in the Gospel as an effectual prayer. He said, ‘God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever did; all my hopes are from the free mercy of God in Christ,’ which he often prayed for.

“After a slumber, he waked, and said, ‘I shall rest from my labor.’ A minister then present said, ‘And your works will follow you.’ To whom he replied, *No works; I will leave out works, if God will grant me the other.’ When a friend was comforting him with the remembrance of the good many had received by his preaching and writings, he said, ‘I was but a pen in God’s hands, and what praise is due to a pen?’

“His resignation to the will of God in his sharp sickness was eminent. When extremity of pain constrained him earnestly to pray to God for his release by death, he would check himself: ‘It is not fit for me to prescribe — when Thou wilt, what Thou wilt, how Thou wilt.’

“Being in great anguish, he said, ‘O, how unsearchable are His ways, and his paths past finding out; the depths of his providence we cannot fathom!’ And to his friends, ‘Do not think the worse of religion for what yon see me suffer.’

“Being often asked by his friends, how it was with his inward man, he replied, ‘I bless God I have a well-grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great

LIFE OF BAXTER.

peace and comfort within.’ But it was his regret that

he could not triumphantly express it, by reason of his extreme pains. He said, ‘Flesh must perish, and we must feel the perishing of it; and that though his judgment submitted, yet sense would still make him groan.’

“Being asked whether lie had not great joy from his believing apprehensions of the invisible state, he replied, ‘What else, think you, Christianity serves for?’ He said, the consideration of the Deity in his glory and greatness was too high for our thought; but the consideration of the Son of God in our nature, and of the saints in heaven, whom he knew and loved, did much sweeten and familiarize heaven to him. The description of it, in Heb. 12: 22-24, was most animating to him; ‘that he was going to the innumerable company of angels, and to the general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven; and to God, the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speakelh better things than the blood of Abel’ That scripture, he said, deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. O, how comfortable is that promise; ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’ At another time he said that he found great comfort and sweetness in repeating the words of the Lord’s prayer, and was sorry some good people were prejudiced against the use of it. for there were all necessary petitions for soul and body contained in it. At other times he gave excellent counsel to young ministers that visited him; earnestly prayed God to bless their labors, and make them very successful in converting souls to Christ; expressed great joy in the tlFE or BAXTER. 119

hope that God would do a great deal of good by them; and that they were of moderate, peaceful spirits.

“He often prayed that God would be merciful to this miserable, distracted world; and that he would preserve his church and interest in it. He advised his friends to beware of self-conceit, as a sin that was likely to ruin this nation; and said, ‘I have written a book against it, which I am afraid has done little good.’ Being asked whether he had altered his mind on controversial points, lie said, those that pleased might know his mind in his writings; and that what he had done was not for his own reputation, but for the glory of God.

“I went to him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. Mather, of New-England, the day before he died; and speaking some comforting words to him, he replied, ‘I have pain; there is no arguing against sense; but I have peace, I have peace.’ I said, you are now approaching your long-desired home; he answered, ‘I believe, I believe.’ He said to Mr. Mather, ‘I bless God that you have accomplished your business; the Lord prolong your life.’ He expressed his great willingness to die; and during his sickness, when the question was asked, ‘How he did?’ his reply was, ‘Almost well.’ His joy was most remarkable, w hen, in his own apprehension, death was nearest; and his spiritual joy was at length consummated in eternal joy.”

“As to himself, even to the last,” says Mr. Sylvester,” I never could perceive his peace and heavenly hopes assaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly lament that he felt no greater liveliness in what appeared so great and clear to him, and so very much desired by him. As to the influence thereof upon his spirit, in order to the sensible refreshment of it, he

LIFE OF BAXTER.

clearly saw what ground he had to rejoice In God; he doubted not of his title to heaven, through the merits of Christ. He told jne he knew it would be well with him when lie was gone. He wondered to hear others speak oi their so passionately strong desires to die, and of their transports of spirit when sensible of their approaching death, as he did not so vividly feel their strong consolations. But when I asked him whether much of this was not to be resolved into bodily constitution, he said it might be so. The heavenly state was the object of his severe and daily thoughts and solemn contemplations; for he set some time apart every day for that weighty work. He knew that neither grace nor duty could be duly exercised without serious meditation. And as he was a scribe instructed into the kingdom of heaven, so he both could and did draw forth out of his treasures things new and old, to his own satisfaction and advantage, as well as to the benefit of others.”

“He had frequently, before his death, owned to me his continuance in the same sentiments that he had exhibited to the world in his polemic discourses, especially about justification, and the covenants of works and grace, &c. And being asked, at my request, whether lie had changed his former thoughts about those things, his answer was, that he had told the world sufficiently his judgment concerning ihe.Ti by words and writing, and thither he referred men. And then lifting up his eyes to heaven, he uttered these words, ‘Lord, pity, pity, pity the ignorance of this poor city.’

“On Monday, the day before his death, a great trembling and coldness awakened nature, and extorted strong cries for pity from Heaven; which cries and agony continued for some time, till at length he ceased those cries, and so lay in a patient expectation of his change. And being once asked by his faithful friend and constant attendant upon him in his weakness, worthy and faithful Mrs. Bushel, his housekeeper, whether he knew her or no, requesting some signification of it if he did, he softly said, ‘Death, death!’ And now he felt the benefit of his former preparations for such a trying hour. And, indeed, the last words that he spake to me, being informed that I was come to see him, were these, ‘O, I thank him, I thank him j’ and turning his eyes to me, he said, ‘The Lord teach you to die.’”

“On Tuesday morning, about four o’clock, December 8th, 1691, he expired; though he expected and desired his dissolution to have been on the Lord’s day before, which, with joy, to me he called a high day, because of his desired change expected then by him.”

A report was quickly spread abroad after his death, that he was exercised on his dying bed with doubts respecting the truths of religion, and his own personal safety, which report Mr. Sylvester thus refutes:

“Of what absurdity will not degenerate man be guilty! We know nothing here that could, in the least, minister to such a report as this. I that was with him all along, have ever heard him triumphing in his heavenly expectation, and ever speaking like one that could never have thought it worth a man’s while to be, were it not for the great interest and ends of godliness. He told me that he doubted not but it would be best for him, when he had left this life and was translated to the heavenly regions.

“He owned what he had written, with reference to the things of God, to the very last. He advised those that came near him carefully to mind their soul’s con-L. B. 11

LITE or BAXTER.

cerns. T’le shortness of time, the importance of eter« iiily. the worth of souls, the greatness of God, the riches of the grace of Christ, the excellency and import of an heavenly mind and life, and the great usefulness of the word and means of grace pursuant to eternal purposes, ever lay pressingly upon his own heart, and extorted from him very useful directions and encouragements to all that came near him, even to the last; insomuch that if a polemical or casuistical point, or any speculation on philosophy or divinity, had been but offered to him for his resolution, after the clearest and briefest representation of his mind which the proposer’s satisfaction called for, he presently and most delightfully fell into conversation about what related to our Christian hope and work.”

“Baxter was buried in Christ-church, London, where the ashes of his wife and her mother had been deposited. His funeral was attended by a great number of persons of different ranks, especially of ministers, conformists as well as nonconformists, who were eager to testify their respect for one of whom it might have been said with equal truth, as of the intrepid reformer of the north, ‘There lies the man who never feared the face of man.’”

In his last will, made two years before his death, he says, “I, Richard Baxter, of London, clerk, an unworthy servant of Jesus Christ, drawing to the end of this transitory life, having, through God’s great mercy, the free use of my understanding, do make this my last will and testament, revoking all other wills formerly made by me. My spirit I commit, with trust and hope of the heavenly felicity, into the hands of Jesus, my glorified Redeemer and Intercessor; and, by his mediation, into the hands of God my reconciled Father, the infinite eternal Spirit, Light, Life, and Love, most great, and wise, and good, the God of nature, grace, and glory; of whom, and through whom, and to whom are all things; my absolute Owner, Ruler, Benefactor, whose I am, and whom I, though imperfectly, serve, seek, and trust; to whom be glory for ever, amen. To him I render the most humble thanks, that he hath filled up my life with abundant mercy, and pardoned my sins by the merits of Christ, and vouchsafed, by his Spirit, to renew me and seal me as his own; and to moderate and bless to me my long sufferings in the flesh, and at last to sweeten them by his own interest and comforting approbation.” He bequeathed his books to “poor scholars,” and the residue of his property to the poor.