THE LIFE

of

HENRY ALTING.

            HENRY ALTING was born at Emden, in Friezeland, in the year 1583, of a very ancient and honorable family, his father, MENSO ALTING, Was Pastor of Emden, In his childhood he was very sickly and weak, so that he was four years old before he could go.

            His parents devoted him to the service of GOD and his church from the very womb; and therefore, when he was seven years old; they sent him to school in their own city of Emden. At fourteen years old his father sent him to the University of Groningen, and from thence into Germany, for the advancement of his learning: having saluted, MARPURG, he went to Herborn, in 16O2, where that famous Divine, JOHN PISCATOR, was Professor. After three years' abode there, he began to think of entering into the holy ministry: but GOD, for tlhe present, intended him for another employment; and upon the recommenda­tions of the Professors of Herborn, he was appointed by Count JOHN of Nassau, to be tutor to three young Counts, viz. WILLIAM of NASSAU, CONRADE LODOWICK of Solmes, and PHIL. ERNEST of Isenburg, who all, at this time, were students in the University of Sedan, together with the young Prince FREDERIC, son to FREDERICK 4:, Elector-Palatine.

            He had continued but a short time in that place, before it was requisite for him to withdraw, with his charge, from that city, for fear of a siege, which was threatened by HENRY 4:, King of France. And there­fore they all went to Heidelberg; and ALTING, in the Prince's Court, attended his former employments, having a fourth added to the three former noblemen, viz. JOHN CONRADE, the Rhinegrave. The same summer, Prince FREDERICK was committed to his tuition, to be by him instructed in History and Geography.

            In the year 1612, the Prince-Elector going into England, to marry the Princess ELIZABETH, daughter to King JAMES, would needs have HENRY to go along in his train; in which journey he escaped death very narrowly himself, with SEULTETUS, and some other of the Prince's company, being surprised with a storm upon the Lake of Harlem, so that with great difficulty they got to the further shore. This was on October the 7th in the afternoon, just at which time his father died.

            Some months after, he was called to be a Professor of Divinity in the University of Heidelberg; into which he was admitted August the 16th, which was the Prince's birth-day and because, by the statutes of the University, none could be Moderator of the disputations but a Doctor, he was solemnly inaugurated into that degree, November the 18th. But GOD’S providence intended

him to some further employment; for there was in Heidelberg an excellent seminary, endowed with large revenues, called the College of Wisdom: the Prince therefore, chose him Master thereof, October the 15th, 1616.

            Thus far we have heard the happier and more comfort­able part of his life now follows the more afflicted part of it; for soon after, the tumults in Bohemia began. The Prince-Elector was chosen King of Bohemia, and crowned SPINOLA broke into the Palatinate: the great battle was fought near Prague: the Beniemians were beaten in the year 162O: and, the year following, the University of Heidel­berg was dissipated, the students in general fled for fear, and the Professors had liberty granted them to go whither they pleased. Yet ALTING, sending his family into a place of safety, stayed still in the College, keeping the remaining students in good order, and remaining unterrified in the midst of dangers, whilst he satisfied his own conscience, and the earnest desire of the King, who from the Hague had written to him, desiring him not to depart from Heidelberg.

            In August, 1622, Heidelberg was besieged by'. ILL V, and, on September the 6th, was taken by storm, at which time it suffered whatsoever military licentiousness could inflict, by plunderings, murders, and insulting of matrons and virgins, all being heightened by the hatred of religion; and the brutishness of the Croats.

            At this time ALTING was in his study, who, hearing the surprise of the city, bolted his door, and betook himself to prayer, looking every moment when the soldiers would break in to sacrifice him to GOD. But the great Arbiter of life and death took care for his safety; for MONSIEUR BENUSIUS, Rector of the school, and his dear friend, hiring two soldiers, called him forth, and conveyed him through a back-door into the Lord Chancellor's house; which TILLY had commanded to be preserved from plundering, by reason of the public monuments of the commonwealth that were kept in that place. This house was commanded to be guarded by a Lieutenant­Colonel, a man greedy of prey; who, lest he should lose his share in the booty, sent forth his soldiers, commanding them, that if they met with any citizens of note, under pretence of safe-guarding them, they should bring them to him, purposing by their ransom to enrich himself. To this man, ALTING was brought, who, with his naked sword reeking with blood, said, "This day with this hand I have slain ten men; to whom DR. ALTING shall be added as the eleventh, if I knew where to find him. But who art Thou? Such a countenance, and such a speech, in such a juncture of time, might have affrighted the most constant mind: but ALTING, by a wise answer, neither denying himself to be ALTING, nor unseasonably discovering himself, answered, " I was a school-master at the College of Wisdom. "Hereupon the Lieutenant­ Colonel promised him safety.

            He remained without sleep, hearing the continual she and groans which filled the air, from women insulted, and men, some of whom were drawn to torments, others immediately slain. But when he saw that many fled to this house as to their only refuge, fearing lest he should be, discovered by some of them, either through imprudence or malice, he retired into a cockloft; where, whilst he hid himself, this Lieutenant-Colonel was, by the authority­ of TILLY, commanded away, not giving him so much time as to seek of this school-master, that the house might be resigned to the Jesuit, for whom it was ap­pointed.  tinder these new inhabitants, ALTING would not have been one jot safer, if GOD had not, by a special providence, accomplished his safety: for the kitchen of this house was reserved for TILLY's own use of the Palatine's cooks was appointed over it, who closely fed and maintained him; and whilst the Jesuits were providing all things in readiness in the church for mass, he hired three Bavarian soldiers, who kept guard iu the streets, to guard him to his own house.

            When he came thither, he found all things broken, plundered, and carried away. In his, study he found a captain boasting that all things therein were his own 11 Yet," said he to ALTING, " I--give thee leave to take any one book, and to carry it away with thee." This proffer ALTING refused, saying, " Sir, if all these things be Thours, I pray GOD that Thou may enjoy them longer than their last master did. Then returning to his former refuge, not without very great danger, three days after, TILLY (who had taken up ALTING's son-in-law's house for his quarters) was prevaded with to grant him a safe conduct to go to Heilbron to bring back his family from thence.

            Thus escaping out of Heidelberg, he passed through a Thousand dangers, till it pleased GOD at last to bring him to Heilbron; from whence, after a short stay, he went to Schomdorf, where he found his family, and in which place he stayed till the February following, having obtained leave so to do of the Duke of Wurttemberg.

            The year following, being 1623, the King of Bohemia sent for him into the Low-Countries, and at last (through GOD’s mercy) after a long, difficult, and dangerous journey, both by water and land, he arrived safely with his family at Emden. After a short stay there he went into Holland, presenting himself to his King, who presently made him tutor to his eldest son FREDERICK: neither would the King suffer him to embrace a frequent call which he had to a pastoral charge in Emden. Yet neither did he pass over that year without great danger; for as he was passing in a sledge upon the ice near Pnrmerend, the ice breaking, he fell into the water, and was very near drowning. But, by GOD’s mercy, being pulled out, he fell into a dangerous disease, from which, Though he recovered, yet he felt a continual pain in his left shoulder all his life after. A while after, he removed to Leyden, to oversee the King's sons in their studies.

            In 1626, he was called to Groningen, to supply the place of one of the Professors of Divinity lately dead. And Though the King would by no means at first hear of it, yet at the importunity of the Senate and University, he at last consented, and, furnishing him with necessaries, dismissed him: so that he removed to Groningen; and the Easter following began his work in the University. Yet, once a year, he used to visit the King, who always highly prized him, and used to converse with him very familiarly. ALTING supplied that Professor's place at Gro­ningen, for the space of eighteen years, with admirable fidelity, diligence, and industry.

            He was three times Rector of the Academy; at all which times he brought sonic great profit to the Univer­sity. In his first Rectorship, he procured an increase of Fellowships: for, whereas there were but forty before, he increased them to sixty. In his second Rectorship, he procured a great augmentation to the University-Library.

            In his third he obtained an order, that one of the Doctors should be sent at the public charge to Leyden. to buy the

choicest books out of GOMARUS's library. He was seven years Pastor of the church of Groningen.  He always had a singular care of the churches of Germany, and especially of the Palatinate, improving his interest by procuring liberal contributions in all the Re­

formed Churches for their maintenance, that they might not perish through want. The collections which were made in England' were committed to his distribution:  The contribution of that noble and munificent man, LODOWICH GEDEER, was also put into his hand, for the training up of young German students in Divinity, who might, when GOD would restore peace, furnish the

Churches of the Palatinate again: this trust he discharged with great diligence and fidelity.

            He married a wife whilst he was at Heidelberg, in 1614, a little before he was called to his Professor's place.

She was a very religious matron, [SUSANNAB BELIER,] the daughter of CHARLES BELIER, then Consul of Heidel­berg; with whom he lived lovingly near thirty years, and by whom he had seven children.  He was tall of stature, and well set: he had quick eyes, and lively senses; a loud and pleasing voice; and a sound constitution, only by reason of his many occasions of grief, somewhat - inclining to melancholy. If he set himself to reprove vice, he performed it with great gravity. If he comforted his friends, he did it with admirable dexterity. If he admonished any of their duty, he did it with much lenity.

            His ministry was full of majesty; his style eloquent, his matter clear and solid. He was very sociable and loving in his converse with his friends. By his practice, converse, experience, and reading both of ancient and modern ecclesiastical histories, he attained to a great measure of wisdom. He was very zealous in defending the orthodox religion. but very far from busying himself in other risen's matters; he could not endure strife and contentions, and shunned those vain distinctions of sophisters, whereby they rather darken than explain the mysteries of salvation. He could not endure novelties in Divinity, holding the opinion of TERTULLIAN, " Primuin quodque verissi7nurn," " that which is most ancient is most true." His profession was without dissimulation; his Divinity solid and substantial, not that which is fetched out of the puddle of the Schoolmen, (Though he was no stranger to them,) but out of the pure fountain of the sacred Scrip­tures. He was a constant studier of the peace of the Church, yet always so as not to hazard the loss of truth. He was of a constant mind, always the same; valiant in adversity, moderate in prosperity, having well learned to sustain and abstain. In reproofs, he was affectionate without bitterness; in admonishing and counseling, pru­dent without passion; of a quick judgment in choosing his friends, and constant in retaining them.

            In delivering his judgment, either in the Academical Senate, or in the Ecclesiastical Presbytery, he so went before others with his prudent counsel, as not to neglect to hear others' judgments; neither would he take it ill if they dissented from him. If any question of great diffi­culty occurred, he would never rest, till he had searched out, and made plain the truth. If any resorted to him in private to ask his advice in sacred, civil, academical, or economical affairs, his answer was instead of an oracle to them.

            His prudence further discovered itself by the govern­ment of his family, where he kept all in peace, order, and concord; and concerning which this only was known, ~` that nobody knew what was done therein."

In 1639, he buried one of his daughters, named MARY, a beautiful and virtuous young maid, which caused so great a grief to him, that he fell into a quartan ague; and Though at last he was cured of it, yet it left ill relinquishes his weakened body, which, in the year 1641, broke forth into at more grievous disease, a lethargy, which did foretell to be fatal.

            Neither by this could his steadfast mind be cast down; for, after a while, contrary to all men's expectations, he began to recover strength, Though indeed he was never perfectly cured.  A third affliction which befell him was the death of his dear wife, which happened the year after, on the 15th of October, the same day upon which, formerly, he had been chosen Master of the College. From that time he was discerned to decay, his solitude increasing his melancholy, which afterwards he could never get the mastery over. He often foretold that he should not long survive his wife. And Though, the Easter after, he went as far as Emden to visit his friends, yet thereby he did but increase his dis­tempers; for he was detained there for the space of twenty days, by reason of a fever. After which he re­turned to Groninaen, but much weakened and troubled with obstructions, which physic could not remove. Yet it pleased GOD that he had some lucid intervals, at which times he would attend upon his Professorship, and the affairs of the University. In August following, those ob­structions so far prevailed, that they took away his appe­tite, and thence ensued a sensible decay of his strength, which afterwards was accompanied with great pains in his back and LORD’s.

            In his sickness DR. MARET visiting him, with a firm voice and friendly mind be congratulated him, that he was designed for his successor: " For," said he, a it much rejoiceth me that I shall leave to the University and Church, one that is studious of peace, orthodox in judg­ment, and averse from novelties; and as Thou have ever maintained friendship with me, do the like with mine whom I shall leave behind me."

            The day before his death, he sang the 13Oth Psalm with a sweet voice, and fervent zeal, and spent the rest of his time in hearty prayers, and holy meditations. In the evening he gave his blessing to his children, MI. commanded his son, DR. JAMES ALTING, to pray with him, and in his prayers to remember the Church and University. The next clay, which was Sunday, in the morning, he found himself somewhat better, yet presently after hc: fell into a: swoon. After the morning exercise, his old friends DRs. CAMERARIUS and STRASBERGFR, agents front the Crown of Sweden, came to visit him, by whose confer­ence he was somewhat refreshed. But no sooner were they gone, than, feeling that his disease had conquered nature, be told those about him that before sun-set he should depart to the LORD: and so, exercising his faith upon the death and merits of CHRIST, and upon the promises of the Gospel, and cheered with the comforts of the HOLY GHOST, he expected death without fear; and presently after, with a firm voice, bade them all farewell, as being ready to depart to CHRIST, which he much longed for. Then causing himself to be raised up, they perceived that he was ready to depart: wherefore hastily sending for the Pastor of the church, his old friend, he prayed with him; and as long as he perceived that he understood him, he cheered him by the sweet promises of the Gospel About three o'clock in the afternoon, in the presence of his friends, and the Professors of the University, without the least struggle, he quietly fell asleep in the LORD, August 25, 1644.

THE LIFE
OF
FREDERICK SPANHEIM.

            FREDERICK SPANHEIM was born in January, 16OO, in Amberg, the metropolis, of the Upper-Palatinate. His father was an honorable and pious man,. Doctor of Divinity, and Counselor to FREDERICK, King of Bohemia. When he was eleven years old, falling into, a tertian ague, which held him long, he made a vow to GOD, that if he pleased to restore him, he would study Divinity, whereby he might be able to do him service. He went afterwards to the University of Heidelberg, and thence returned to his parents; with whom after he had stayed awhile, he was by them sent to Geneva, in regard to the eminence both of the teachers and the city.

            In the year 1621, things being in a deplorable condition in Bohemia and the Palatinate, he went to Gratianoble, that he might free his parents from further charge in his maintenance. He was then tutor to a Nobleman's son for three years, during which time he was afflicted with many diseases, especially with a dizziness in his heads At the end of the three years, having with much difficulty obtained leave of the Nobleman, he returned to Geneva, and after a while went from thence to Paris; where he was courteously entertained by SAMUEL DURANT, the Pastor of the Reformed Church, with whom he lived till, the death Of MR. DURANT.

            During his abode at Paris, he grew into familiar ac­quaintance with the learned CAMERO, who was so far, *, in a position, dial Though he was different from him in some points, especially about universal re­demption, yet did he endeavor to carry him along with him to Montauban, whither he was called to be the Divi­nity-Professor, but prevailed not. These were his halcyon days, which were interrupted by the death of MR.DORANT; After this he retired into the family of ARNOLD, Coun­selor of State, who entertained him at his own table.

            And thus far he lived a private life. But in July, 1625, he was called by his friends to Geneva; and indeed he delighted in that city above all others, wishing he might there fix his station; whereupon he basted thither upon this call, and often spare of the good Providence of GOD to him therein: for when he came to Lyons, being to pass over the river, he would needs go over in a boat but by the violence of the stream, his boat was split against an arch of the bridge, whereby he with much difficulty escaped drowning. Through GOD’s, Mercy, coming at length to Geneva, in 1626, he found the Pro­fessor of Philosophy's place void; and by the unanimous of all, he was preferred to it before all his competitors whereby after all his travels and troubles he aimed at a quiet harbor.

            Hereupon, the better to bind himself to continuance in that pace, the year after he married CHARLOTTE A PORTLY. the mother of PETER A PORTLY, and ever after carried a tender affection towards her; and indeed she well deserved it in re ad of her virtues, and innocency of manners, joined with dove-like simplicity, free from fraud and wile. y this wife he had many children, whereof son e died in their infancy, but he left seven behind him.

            But it was not fit that his excellent parts should be shut up within the schools, nor his light put under a bushel, which ought so to shine that the Church of GOD might be illuminated thereby; whereupon the Reverend Pres­bytery often advised him to apply his mind to the stud' of Divinity, which also he willingly did, and, to the great reoicing of all, was ordained a Minister and clergy.

            He excelled, in that he exceeded all men's hopes, both for his eloquence and doctrine. And it pleased GOD to call lima forth to the constant exercise of it in 1631; at which time BENEDICT TURRETIN, one of the Professors, and his dear friend, dying, he was, by the generous consent. of all, chosen to succeed him; at which time he lay sick in bed, and dreamed of no such matter. After this, the Curators of Levden insisted with so much earnestness by their frequent letters, to which were added the request of the King of Bohemia, of the States of Holland and  Friezeland, and lastly of the States- General, that at length they extorted, rather than obtained, his dismission front Geneva.

            In October, 1642,- leaving Geneva, he, with his whole family, arrived safely in Leyden, just upon the festiva1­day, wherein they celebrated the memorial of their deli­verance from the Spanish siege, and was most heartily welcomed by them. And as soon as he came thither, was observed, that there ensued a great alteration both in his style, phrases, and manner of life; so that he lived amongst the Hollanders, as if he had been born amongst them.

            He was truly a scribe instructed to the kingdom o heaven, who out of his treasury brought forth things new and old; and although his mind was estranged from con­tentions, yet was he so great a lover of truth, that no bonds - of friendship or acquaintance, nor any fear, could divert him from the defense thereof. He always pre­ferred the cause Of GOD before all other relations and respects; and Though he often professed that his chief desire was to grapple with the open adversaries of the church, yet withal he declared, that he could not be silent towards those brethren, who, through ignorance or infirmity, sought to undermine the truth; for many tines, a little spark, neglected at first, proves a dangerous fire.

            Before he grew old, he was an old man for wisdom, and intentness upon business, His whole life was guided by the idea of wisdom, whereby, as occasion required, he could accommodate himself to affairs of all sorts. In his friendships, Though he did not permit all promiscuously, yet did he admit not a few into his familiarity. He was very ready to do good to, and deserve well of all; and whereas many had daily occasion to make use of his aid, he rather numbered than weighed the good turns be did them. But his labors were so many and great, that if his body had been of oak or iron, he could not have held out long; so that we may truly say, the employment of his soul destroyed its habitation.

            Besides the public labors he underwent in the Church and University, his private and domestic cares, his con­ferences with his friends, his frequent intercourse of letters, his various writings, and giving counsel to others, took up every moment in his life; and Though he was often admonished by his friends to favor himself, yet would he by no means be persuaded to it. Hence his strength began sensibly to decay, and he was troubled with great obstructions; so that himself began to com­plain of them, yet would he not diminish his daily task. And thus he continued all the winter, afflicted with weak­ness and pains, at sundry seasons.

            His last sermon he preached at Easter, upon those memorable words of ST. PAUL, (Phil. 3: 21,) " Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body," &c. After his last lecture, re­turning home, he complained of the decay of his strength, which was so great, that with much difficulty be went on to the end of his lecture. From thenceforth, his strength declined more and more; yet notwithstanding that circum­stance, he was delegated in the middle of April, by the Church, to a Synod of the French Churches which met at Harlem, whither he went, Though the labor was too great for his weak body. At his return, he was much worse; so that Though no signs of death appeared outwardly, yet was he confined to his bed.

            Hereupon he foresaw the approach of death, and wholly gave up himself to GOD, whom he continually invoked by fervent prayers and sighs, which had been his constant practice in the whole course of his life. But yet, on April the 2Sth, he Thought himself better; whereupon in the afternoon, he sat up at his study-window, where he had not continued long, before he was seized by a violent fever, with a great trembling of his whole body, which at length ended in a burning; so that he lay all night as if he had been in the midst of a fire. Where­upon, seeing his end to approach, in the presence of his family, he poured forth most ardent prayers to GOD professing that he knew CHRIST to be his Redeemer, with whom he knew he should shortly be, and that he desired nothing so much as his happy dissolution, his soul still breathing after CHRIST;-only this he begged of GOD, that he would give him strength to undergo whatsoever he should please to lay upon him, that he would not suffer him to be tempted beyond what he was able to bear, and that he might have a quiet and comfortable departure out of this miserable and sinful world.

His wife and family, foreseeing their calamity in his loss, were dissolved into tears But HEMDANUS coming to visit him, he declared to him the inward peace of his soul, his hope of glory, and his faith in CHRIST; together with his earnest desire of leaving this world. He also freely forgave all that had wronged him, desiring the like from others, if he had in any way offended them; pro­fessing, that whatsoever he had done, he did it out of his love to truth, and his care over the Church.

            The night before his death, Dr. TRIGLAND was sent for to him, whom he always loved and honored as his dear friend and colleague, who being come, prayed with him and the next day DR, NI Assisi us, Pastor of the French

Church, did the like: and thus he spent all that week in prayers and holy exercises.

            On Wednesday night, he caused his son to read to him the eighth chapter of Ezekiel, and part of the Epistle to the Romans. After which, he spoke to his eldest son FREDRICK, exhorting hint to the study of divinity, and requiring him not to be withdrawn from it by any means whatsoever. He Thought that he could never talk enough of the tender-love, care, and diligence of his wife.

            A little before his death, re-collecting his spirits, in the presence of SAMUEL RIVER, Pastor of Delft, he prayed with a clear and fervent voice, and with such ardency of affec­tion, as caused all present to wonder. In his prayer': gave thanks to GOD for all his blessings bestowed so plen­tifully upon him, in the whole course of his life, and that he had blessed him so much amongst strangers; acknow­ledging himself to be less than all those blessings, and that he had nothing to return for them but his grateful heart. Above other things, he especially blessed hill] for bringing him forth in a Reformed Church; and that he had not suffered him to be infected with the Popish Religion. He prayed heartily to GOD to continue these blessings to his family for ever; and that he would never suffer any of them to be seduced to Popery. He prayed also, that in the pains of death he Might, with all his soul, breathe after GOD, and might before-hand taste of the glory of heaven. This prayer being ended, his strength and voice failed him; and so, about sun-set, he quietly slept in the LORD, in the year 1649, and in the forty-ninth year of his age.

 

THE LIFE
OF
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

            SIR PHILIP SIDNEY was the first-born son of HrNR SIDNEY, who was a man of excellent wit and conver­sation; and such a Governor as sought net to make- an end' of the skate in himself, but to plant his own ends in the prosperity of his country witness his sound estab­lishments both in Wales and Ireland, where his memory is deservedly grateful unto this clay. His mother was laughter to the Duke of Northumberland, and sister to the Earls of Warwick and Leicester.

            A nobleman of eminent parts, who was brought up with him from his childhood, gives this testimony of him " Though I knew him from a child, yet I never knew him other than a man; with a stayedness of mind, and a lovely and familiar gravity, which carried grace and reve­rence above greater years. His talk was profitable, and his very play tended to the enriching of his mind: so that even his teachers found something in him to observe and learn, above that which they had usually read or taught."

            Prince WILLIAM of Nassau long kept intelligence with SIR PHILIP, both by word and letters, and that in affairs of the highest nature: and this young gentleman had, by his mutual freedom, so imprinted the extraordi­nary merit of his young years into the large wisdom and experience of that excellent Prince, that, as SIR FOLK GREVILLE (SIR PHILIP'S intimate friend) passed out of Germany into England, meeting with the Prince of Orange in the town of Dift, among other discourse, he protested, that, if he could judge, her Majesty of England (Queen ELIZABETH) lead one of the ripest and greatest Counselors of State in SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, of all that then lived in Europe; to the trial of which he would leave his own credit engaged, until her Majesty might be pleased to employ this gentleman, either among her friends, or against tier enemies.

            His uncle, the Earl of Leicester, after SIR PHILIP’,$ death, and not long before his own, told a great Courtier, that when he undertook the government of the Low Countries, he carried his nephetil.~, SIR PHILIP, over with him, as one among the rest, not only despising his Thouth as a counselor, but withal bearing a hand over him as a forward young man: yet, notwithstanding, in a short time, he saw the sun so risen above his horizon, that both he and all his stars were glad to fetch light from him; and in the end, acknowledged that he held up the honor of his government and authority by him, whilstt he lived, and found reason to withdraw himself from it after his death.

            He won great respect and honor among the most eminent Monarchs of the time; as first with his most excellent Majesty, King JAMES, then King of Scotland, to whom his service was affectionately devoted, and from whom he received many pledges of love and favor; and likewise with the renowned King HENRY 4:, of France, and then of Navarre, who, having measured and mastered all the spirits in his own nation, found out this master ­spirit among us, and conversed with him as an equal in nature, and so fit for friendship with a King.

Also, the gallant Prince, DON JOHN of Austria, Viceroy in the Low Countries for the King of Spain, when this gentleman, in his embassage to the Emperor of Ger­many, came to kiss his hand, at first gave him access of grace as to a stranger, and, as he conceived, to an enemy; yet, after a while, the beholders wondered to see what tribute that brave and high-minded Prince paid to his worth, giving more honor and respect to this young man than most princes.

            In what estimation his worth was, even among ene­mies, will appear by his death; for when XIENDOZA, a secretary of many treasons against us, heard of it, he said openly, " That, however glad he was that King PHILIP, his master, had lost a dangerous enemy, yet he could not but lament to see CHRISTendom deprived of so rare a light in those cloudy times, and bewail poor widow England, which, having been many years in breeding one eminent spirit, was in a moment bereaved of hint by the hands of a villain."

            Indeed he was a true model of worth; a man fit for great undertakings, for conquests, plantations, reforma­tion of things amiss, and what action soever is greatest and hardest among men; and withal, such a lover of man­kind, and of goodness, that whosoever had any real parts found comfort in him, yea, protection to the uttermost of his power. TIT-e, Universities abroad and at home ac­counted him a general Mecenas of learning and learned men; dedicated their books to him; and communicated every invention or improvement of knowledge to him. The soldiers honored him; and were so honored by him, that no man Thought he marched under the true banner, who had not obtained SIR PHILIP SIDNEY'S approbation.

            His heart and capacity were so large, that there was not a cunning painter, a skilful engineer, an excellent musician, or any other artificer of extraordinary fame, --hat made not himself known to this famous genius, and found him his true friend without hire.

            Yea, it will be confessed by all who knew him, that this one man's example, and personal respect, slid not

only encourage learning and honor in the schools, but brought the affection and true use thereof both into the Court and Camp; so that his very ways in the world did generally add reputation to his Prince and country, by restoring amongst us the ancient majesty of noble and true dealing. His heart and tongue went both one way, and so with every one that went with the truth, ass know­ing no other kindred, party, or end.

            Above all, he made the religion which he professed the firm basis of his life: for his judgment was, that our true-heartedness to the Reformed Religion, in the begin­ning, brought peace, safety, and freedom to us; and he concluded, that the wisest and best way was that of the famous WILLIAM, Prince of Orange, who never divided the consideration of the state from the cause of religion. To this active spirit all depths proved but shallow fords: he pierced into men's counsels ancl ends, not by their words, compliments, or. oaths, but by fathoming their hearts and found no wisdom where he found no courage, nor courage without wisdom, nor either of them without honesty and truth. The ingenuousness of his nature did spread itself freely abroad: none that then lived when he died could say that he ever did them wrong, but many there were that thankfully acknowledged that he had done them good. Neither was this in him a private, but a public affection; his chief ends being, not friends, wife, children, or himself, but, above all things, the honor of his CREATOR and SAVIOR, and the service of his Prince and country.

After this he designed a voyage with Sip, FRANCIS DRANN to the West Indies, purposing, if Go-D prospered them, to settle a plantation upon the continent of America; and when the fleet was almost ready to set sail, he stole from the Court, unknown to the Queen, purposing to have gone along with it himself; but., before he could get off, the Queen being informed of it, commanded him back, promising to him employment under his uncle, the Earl of Leicester, in the Low Countries.

Accordingly, He was appointed Governor of Flushing; and, after his arrival in the Low Countries, was made General of the Horse, under the Earl of Leicester. In this situation he distinguished himself by uncommon bravery, particularly in the fatal battle in which he received his death-wound. In expectation of being soon engaged with the enemy, he had put on ill his armor; till meeting the Marshal of the Camp but rightly armed, the simulation inequality, made him cast off his crushes; and so, by the secret influence of the wise Providence of GOD, he disarmed that part where GOD had resolved to strike him.

            Thus they went on, every man at the head of his own troop; and, the weather being misty, they fell unawares upon the enemy, who had made a strong stand to receive them near the walls of Zutphen. By reason of this accident, their troops were unexpectedly engaged, not only within the level of the great shot that played from the ramparts, but more fatally within the shot of their muskets, which were laid in ambush within their own trenches.

            An unhappy hand, out of those trenches, brake the bone of SIR PHILIP'S thigh, with a musket-shot, above the left knee, which so shivered the bone that the bullet could not be got out. The horse whereon he rode was furiously choleric, and so forced him to forsake the field, but not his back, which was the noblest and fittest bier to carry a martial commander to his grave. In this sad passage, going along by the rest of the army, where his uncle the General was, and being thirsty With excess of bleeding, he called for some drink, which was pre­sently brought him. But as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, ghastly casting up his eyes at the said bottle; which SIR PHILIP taking notice of, took it from his own head, before he drank, and gave it to the poor man, with these words; Thy necessity is yet greater than me." And when he had pledged this poor soldier, he was presently carried to Arnheimn, in Gueideriand. in this place the principal Surgeons of the camp attended him; some seeking gain, but most of them with a true zeal, compounded of love and reverence, to do him good.

            When they went about to dress his wound, he told there, that whilst his strength was yet entire, and his body free from fever, they might freely use their art, and search to the bottom; for that, besides his hope of health, he could male this farther profit of the rain which he should suffer, that they might witness they had a man under their hands, to whom a stronger SPIRIT had given power above himself either to do or suffer; but that if they should now neglect to use their art, it would afterwards be too late.

The Surgeons began the cure, and continued it for sixteen days, not only with hope, but rather with such confidence of his recovery, that the joy of their hearts overflowed their discretion, and made them spread the intelligence of it to the QUEEN, and to all his noble friends in England, where it was received not as private, but as public good news.

            Only there was one who, Though looking with no less zealous eyes than the rest, yet saw reason for despair. He was an excellent Surgeon of COUNT HOLLOCK's. The Count himself lay at the same instant hurt in the throat with a musket-bullet; yet he neglected his own extremity to save his friend, and for that end had sent him to SIR PHILIP. This Surgeon, out of love to his master, had made bold one day to return to dress his wound; and, whilst he was doing it, the Count cheerfully asked him, how SIR PHILIP did, to which the Surgeon answered, with a heavy countenance, " that he was not well." At those words this worthy Prince, as having more sense of his friend's wounds than his own, cried out, " Away, villain; never see my face again, till Thou bringest me better news of that man's recovery, for whose redemp­tion many such as I were happily lost."

            After the sixteenth day was past, and the very shoulder­ bones of this delicate patient were worn through his skin with constant posturing of his body according to the surgeons' directions; he, judiciously observing the pangs which his wound stung him with by fits, together with many other symptoms of decay, began rather to submit his body to these artists, than any farther to trust them.

            During this suspense, one morning, lifting up the bed­ clothes for ease, he smelled some extraordinary noisome

savor proceeding from him; and either out of natural delicacy,-or-care not to offend others, grew a little troubled at it. They that sat by, perceiving this, besought him to let them know what sudden indisposition he felt.’SIR PHILIP told them what it was, and desired them to con­fess whether they smelled any noisome scents or not. They all protested against it whereupon he gave this doom upon himself, that it was some inward mortifica­tion, and a welcome messenger of death.

            Shortly after, when the Surgeons carne to dress his wounds, he acquainted them with these piercing intelli­gences between him and his mortality: and afterwards, how freely soever he left his body subject to their prac­tice upon it, yet did he not change his mind; but as having cast off all hope or desire of recovery,- he made and divided that little span of life which was left him, in this manner

            First, he called the Ministers to him, who were excel­lent men of divers nations, and before them made such a confession of his Christian faith, as no books but the heart can truly and freely deliver. Then desired he them to accompany him in prayer, wherein he craved leave to lead the assembly; because, as he said, the secret sins of his own heart were best known to himself, and, out of a true sense of them, he was more properly enabled to apply the eternal sacrifice of his blessed SAVIOR'S passion and merits to himself.

            Not long after, he entreated these divines to recall to mind what was the opinion of the Heathen, touching the immortality of the soul, and to parallel with it the most pregnant authorities of the Old and New Testament: not that he wanted information or assurance; but because this fixing of a lover's Thoughts upon those eternal beas­ts, tended not only to the cheering up of his decaying spirits, but was, as it were, a taking possession of that unfading inheritance, which was due unto him by virtue of his brotherhood in CHRIST.

            The last scene of this tragedy was the parting between the two brethren; the weaker showing wonderful strength in suppressing his sorrow, and the stronger great weak­ness in expressing it. So far did invaluable worthiness, in the dying brother, enforce the living to descend be­neath his own worth, and, by abundance of tears, to be­wail the public in his particular loss.  SIR PHILIP, with a strong virtue, but a weak voice, mildly blamed him for relaxing the frail strength left to support him in his final combat of separation at hand. And to stop this natural torrent of affection in both, be took his leave with these words:-11 Love my memory; cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure Thou that they are honest. But, above all, govern Thour will and affections by the will and word of Thour CREATOR, in me beholding the end of this world, with all her vanities." -Quickly after, he went to rest.

 

THE LIFE
OF
RICHARD MATHER

            RICHARD MATHER was born in a village called Lowton, in the parish of Winwick, in the county of Lancaster, in 1596. His parents sent him to the school at Winwick, which was about four miles distant from their house. In the winter-season they boarded him at Winwick; but such was his eager desire after learning, that in the summer-time he went every day thither on foot.

            After he had spent several years in the school, some Popish merchants coming out of Wales to Warrington, which is but two miles from Winwick, made diligent inquiry whether there were not some in that school whom they might procure for apprentices. Presently RICHARD MATHER was mentioned to them; whereupon application was made to his father to know whether he would thus dispose of him; who was inclinable to accept of the Motion, because now his estate was so decayed, that he almost despaired of bringing up this his son as he intended. But here Divine Providence was very observ­able; for when the father was thus ready to part with his son, and the child to go, the LORD raised up the heart of his master to be importunate with his father to keep him at school, professing that it was a great pity that a wit so prone to learning should be taken from it, or that he should be undone by Popish education. And the persua­sions of the master so far prevailed, that his scholar was continued under his care until the fifteenth year of his age.  He would preach at Toxteth twice every LORD'S-day and once a fortnight, on the Tuesdays, he held a lecture at a town called Prescot.

            After he had thus spent painfully and faithfully fifteen years in the work of the ministry, he that holds the stars in his right hand had more work for him to dc else­where, and therefore SATAN'S rage was suffered to break forth to the stopping of his mouth. The lecture which he held at Prescot caused him to be much taken notice of; and so he became, to the adversaries of the truth, an object of envy. Complaints being made against him for his non-conformity to the ceremonies, he was suspended in August, 1633, under which he continued till November following: but then, by means of the intercession of some gentlemen in Lancashire, he was restored to the exercise of his public ministry.

            But this liberty continued not long; for in 1634, Bishop NEAL, who was once, by King JAMES, pleasantly admonished of his preaching Popery, because by his carriage he taught the people to pray for a blessing upon his dead predecessor, having now become Archbishop of York, sent his Visitors into the diocese of Chester; who, being come into the country, kept their court at Wigan, where, among others, Mn. MATHER was con­vened before them, and suspended merely for his non­conformity. And it was marvelous to consider how GOD was with him, causing a spirit of courage and of glory to rest upon him, and filling him with wisdom when he stood before his judges, who were not willing that he should speak for himself, or declare the reasons which convinced him of the unlawfulness of conformity.

            Being thus silenced, means were again used by MR. MATHER'S friends to obtain his liberty. The Visitor asked how long he had been a Minister. Answer was made, that he had been in the ministry fifteen years. And said the Visitor, "How often has he worn the surplice? " Answer was returned, that he had never worn it. " What," said the Visitor, with an oath, to preach fifteen years, and never wear a surplice’: It had been better for him that he had gotten seven bastards."

            The case being thus, he betook himself to a private life: and no hope appearing that he should enjoy his liberty in the land of his nativity, foreseeing also the approaching calamities of England, he meditated a re­moval into New England. Being fully satisfied concern­ing the clearness of his call to New England, after many prayers, and extraordinary seeking GOD, he resolved upon the transportation of himself and family thither.

            His parting with his friends in Lancashire was like ST. PAUL'S taking his leave of Ephesus, with much sorrow; many tears being shed by those that expected to see his face no more. He began his journey in April, 1635; and traveled to Bristol, purposing to take ship there. In this journey he was forced to change his outward habit, because Pursuivants were designed to apprehend him; but by this means he canoe safe and unmolested to Bristol.

            From Bristol they set sail for New England, May 23, 1635. And the LORD, after manifold trials of their faith and patience, brought them in safety to their desired haven. It is seldom known that a man, designed in GOD’s counsel to any special services does not, at one time or other, experience eminent deliverances of GOD’s Provi­dence: and so it was with this servant of the LORD, not once nor twice. But the most remarkable of all others was that which happened to him on the mighty waters, where He that sits upon the floods, and stilleth the raging of the sea, showed himself wonderful in goodness. The relation of this signal providence, we will here set down in MR. MATHER'S own words.

            "August 15, 1635. The LORD had not yet done with us, nor had he let us see all his power and goodness: and therefore about break of day he sent a most terrible storm of rain and easterly wind, whereby we were in as much danger as, I think, ever people were. When we came to land, we found many mighty trees rent in pieces in the midst of their trunks, and others turned up by the roots, by the fierceness of the tempest. That morning we lost three anchors and cables, one of them having never been in the water before. Two were broken by the strength and violence of the storm, and the third was cut off by the mariners in extremity of distress, to save the ship, and their lives, and our own. And when our cables and anchors were all lost and gone, we had no visible means of deliverance, but by hoisting sail, if so be we might get to sea from among the islands and rocks where we had anchored.

            " But the LORD let us see that our sails could not save us, any more than the cables and anchors: for, by the force of the storm, the sails were rent in pieces, as if they had been rotten rags; of divers of them there was scarcely left so much as a hand's-breadth that was not torn in pieces, or blown away into the sea; so that, at that time, all hope that we should be saved, in all out­ward appearance, was utterly taken away, and the rather, because we seemed to drive, with full force of wind, directly upon a mighty rock, standing out in sight above water, so that we did expect that continually we should hear and feel the crashing of the ship upon the rock.

            "In this extremity we cried unto the LORD, and he was pleased to have compassion upon us. For, by his over-ruling Providence, he guided the ship by the rock, and assuaged the violence of the sea and of the wind. So GOD granted us as wonderful a deliverance as I think ever any people had felt: the seamen confessed that they never knew the like. In all this, (the LORD's holy name be blessed for it!) he gave us hearts contented and willing that he should do with us, and ours, what he pleased, and what might be most for the glory of his great name."

            This deliverance was the more remarkable, because several vessels were cast away in that storm. One in particular, a ship called the Angel Gabriel, which set out from Bristol with the vessel wherein MR. MATHER was, being then at anchor, was broken in pieces. There was, also, a ship going between Pascataqua and the Bay, which was cast away in this storm, and all the people therein lost, except two. Among others in that vessel, there was a Minister, MR. AVERY, who, every moment expecting that the next wave would be a wave of death, lifted tip his eyes to heaven and said, " LORD, I cannot challenge a promise of the preservation of my life, but according to thy covenant I challenge heaven;" which he had no sooner spoken, but a wave came immediately, and swept him away, and so wafted him to heaven indeed. And by the way, let it be noted, that this was the only vessel which at that time had miscarried with passengers from Old England to New: so signally did the LORD in his Providence own the plantation of New England.

The storm being allayed, the LORD brought them safely to an anchor before Boston, August 17, 1635. And MR. MATHER abode with his family in Boston for some months; and both he and his consort joined the church there.

            Being thus, by a mighty hand and out-stretched arm, brought safely into New England, sundry towns sent to him, desirini that he would employ the talents with which the LORD had enriched him, for the work of the ministry amongst them. At the same time he was desired at Plymouth, Dorchester, and Roxbury. Being in a great strait which of these invitations to accept, he referred himself to the advice of some judicious friends, among whom MR. COTTON and MR. THOMAS HOOKER were the chief, who met to consult upon this weighty affair. And the result of their advice was, that he should accept of the invitation from Dorchester; which accordingly being accepted of by him, he did, by the help of CHRIST, set upon the gathering of a church there; the church which was first planted in that place being removed, with the REV Mr. WARHAM, to Connecticut. Being thus again settled in the LORD's work, he therein continued to his dying day; the LORD making him an eminent blessing, not only to Dorchester, but to all the churches and plan­tations round about him, for the space of almost four­

and-thirty years. Before, and for some years after, his acceptance of the office of a Pastor in Dorchester, he was in much spiritual distress, by reason of uncertainty concerning his spiritual state. He kept these troubles secret from men; only he revealed the distress of his soul to that great Divine MR. NORTON, then Pastor of the church in Ipswich, unto whom GOD gave "the tongue of the learned to speak a word in season," whereby his soul was com­forted.

            During the time of his pilgrimage in New England, he underwent not so many changes as he had done before. Nevertheless, as in a wilderness might be expected, he had experience of many trials of his faith and patience. That which, of all outward afflictions, did most grieve him, was the death of his dear wife, who had been for so many years the greatest outward comfort and blessing which he enjoyed. This affliction was the more griev­ous, because, being a woman of singular prudence, she had taken off from her husband all secular cares, so that he had opportunity to devote himself to his studies, and sacred employments.

            After he had continued in the state- of widowhood for the space of a year and a half, he again changed his con­dition, and was married to the pious widow of MR. JOHN COTTON; whom GOD did make a blessing and comfort to him all the remainder of his days.

Old age being now come upon him, he was sensible of the infirmities thereof, having in these his latter years some difficulty of hearing: also the sight of one of his eyes failed seven years before his death: yet GOD gave him health of body, and vigor of spirit, in a wonderful measure; so that, in fifty years together, he was not by sickness detained so much as one LORD's-day from his public labors. This continued health, as to natural causes, proceeded partly from the sound constitution of his body, and partly from his accustoming himself to a plain and temperate diet. he never made use of any phy­sician, nor was be in his whole life ever sick of any acute disease; Only, in the last two years of his life, he was sorely afflicted with that disease which some justly call flagellum studiosorum, "the scourge of students," namely, the stone; which at last brought him to an end of all his labors and sorrows.

            The manner was this. Some difference having sprung up at Boston, counsel from neighboring Churches was by some desired, to direct them; accordingly the Churches sent their messengers, and Dorchester Church, amongst others, sent MR. MATHER, who, with the rest, assembled in Boston, April the 13th, 1669. And MR. MATHER, by reason of his age, gravity, grace, and wisdom, was chosen Moderator.

For several days after his being thus in consultation, he enjoyed his health as formerly, or rather better than for some time of late. But as LUTHER, when with others he was assembled in a synod, was surprised with a violent fit of the stone, whereupon he was forced to return home, his friends having little hope of his life; so it was with this holy man: for on the 16th of April, 1669, he was, in the night, taken very ill. The next morning he returned to Dorchester; and truly great was the favor of GOD towards hire, that he should be found about such a blessed business as that in which he was then engaged; for the LORD found him sincerely and earnestly endeavoring to be a peace-maker.

            He did not speak much in his last sickness, either to friends that visited him, or to his own children;-only his son, who was afterwards Pastor of a Church in Boston, coming to visit his father, said unto him, " Sir, if there be any special thing which Thou would have me to do, in case the LORD should spare me upon earth after Thou are in heaven, I would entreat Thou to express it;" at which, his father, making a little pause, and lifting up his eyes and hands towards heaven, replied, " A special thing which I would commend to Thou is, Care concerning the rising generation in this country, that they be brought under the government Of CHRIST in his Church, and that, when they are grown up and qualified, they have baptism for their children."

            His bodily pains continued upon him till April the 22d, when, in the morning, his son before mentioned, coming to visit him, asked his father if he knew him: to whom he replied, that he did; but was not able to speak any more. Whereupon his son saying, " Now Thou will speedily be in the joy of Thour LORD," his father lifted up his hands, but could not speak. Not long after, his son again spoke to him, saying, " Thou will quickly see JESUS CHRIST, and that will make amends for all Thour pains and sorrows;" at which words, his father again lifted up his hands; and about ten o'clock that night, he quietly breathed his last. Thus did that light, which had been shining in the church above fifty years, expire, on the 22d of April, 1669, in the seventy-third year of his age.

            He was, especially in his last sickness, a pattern of patience. For although extremity of pain was that which brought him to the grave, yet did he never so much as once cry out from first to last; and it was very rare to hear him so much as groan. Once in his sickness, his son saying to him, that inasmuch as several small stones were come from him, now possibly he might have some ease, he answered, " As for that, the will of the LORD be done." At the same time his son saying to him, " GOD has showed great faithfulness unto Thou, having upheld Thou now for above the space of fifty years in his service; and has employed Thou therein without ceasing, which can be said of very few men upon the face of the whole earth;" his father replied, "Thou say true; I must acknowledge the mercy of GOD has been great towards me all my days: but I must also acknowledge that I have had many failings, and the Thought of them abaseth me, and works patience in me." When any asked him how he did, his usual answer was, "Far from well; yet far better than mine iniquities deserve."

            We shall conclude with his last will and testament. It was written with his own hand, October 16th, 1661, as follows:­

" I RICHARD MATHER, considering the certainty of death, and the uncertainty of the time thereof, and withal, knowing it to be the will of GOD, that a man should set his house in order before he departeth this life, do make this my last will and testament in manner following. First of all, I acknowledge the rich and wonderful grace and mercy of Almighty GOD, whose I hand has made and fashioned me,' and who’ took me out of my mother's womb,' and has made me a man, who might have made me a beast, or other creature. He has also, by his good Providence, preserved the being and comfort of my life all the days of my pilgrimage until now, even for the space of sixty-five years; during all which time he has not suffered me to want either food or raiment, or the service of any creature, which has been requisite for my comfortable subsistence in this world, which I acknowledge to be the bounteous gift of Him who is LORD of all creatures, and the high Possessor of heaven and earth.

'~ Next of all, and more especially, I am bound to give thanks and praise to Him, whilst I have any being, that I, being I a child of wrath by nature as well as others,' and being born in a place of much profaneness and Popery, he has, of his abundant grace, vouchsafed to draw me out of that-woeful estate of sin and ignorance wherein I lay, and to make himself and his CHRIST known unto me by the Gospel, of which grace I was most un­worthy; and in his great patience and mercy to bear with my manifold and great offences, both before and since the time of his gracious calling of me, Though for my unworthy walking in many particulars, I might justly have been forever rejected of Him. Yea, and such has been his rich

grace, that He has vouchsafed to put me an unworthy creature into the ministry of the Gospel of his SON, that I should not only know and profess the same, which yet is an unspeakable mercy, but be also a Preacher of it unto others; in which employment if any thing has been done, which has been pleasing to Him, or in anyway beneficial to any child of his, it has not been I that have done the same, but ` the grace of GOD which was with me.'

            " For I must needs acknowledge, to the praise of his patience and grace, that in my poor ministration, for the space of these forty-two years and upward, I have been very defective in wisdom, and watchfulness over the people's souls, in purity, in faithfulness, in uprightness, in meekness, humility, and zeal. And because of these, and many other of my defects, and offences against the LORD, I stand in much need, this day, of mercy and forgiveness through his CHRIST, and have no cause to look for any acceptance, either in this or another world, for any right­eousness of mine own, either as touching my ministry or otherwise; but, disclaiming all Thoughts of that kind, my only trust and hope is to be accepted of Him, and, when this life shall be ended, to be saved in his heavenly king­dom, merely by his free grace, and the obedience, and precious passion, and intercession, of his dear SON.

            " And as concerning death, as I do believe that ` it is appointed for all men once to die,' so, because I see a great deal of unprofitableness in mine own life, and because the LORD has let me see such vanity and emptiness even in the best of those comforts which this life can afford, that I think I may truly say, that; I have seen an end' to all perfection;' therefore, if it were the will of GOD, I should be glad to be removed hence, (where the best that is to be had does yield such little satisfaction to my soul,) and to be brought into his presence in glory, that there I might find that satisfying and all-sufficient contentment in Him, which under the sun is not to be enjoyed. In the mean time I desire to stay the LORD'S leisure. s But Thou, O LORD, how long!'

            " Now as concerning mine outward estate, since’ the earth is the LORD'S, and the fullness thereof, the habitable world, and all that is therein,' to Him belongs the praise of all that I possess in this kind: and for the portion thereof which he has given name, it is my mind and will, if so be it please his Highness, that, after my decease, the same may be disposed of as follows." Having thus expressed himself, he proceeded to the disposal of his temporal estate, with which we shall not here trouble the Reader. After the disposal of that, he concluded with a most solemn charge to his children. It is this:­

            “Concerning my son TIMOTHY, with all the rest of my beloved sons, as I hope GOD has already made them par­takers of his saving grace in CHRIST, for which they and I have cause endlessly to be thankful; so I think it not amiss, for the furtherance of their spiritual good, to lay upon them this serious and solemn charge of a dying father, that none of them presume, after my decease, to walk in any way of sin and wickedness, or in a careless neglect of GOD, and of the things of GOD, and of their own salvation by CHRIST. For if they shall so do; which GOD forbid, then, I do hereby testify unto them, that their father which begat them, and their mother which did bear them, with all the prayers which they have made, and the tears which they have shed for them, their example, their admo­nitions, and the exhortations which they have administered unto them, together with this my last will, and solemn charge, -all these will rise up against them as so many testimonies for their condemnation at the last day. But I have better hopes of them; and do hereby declare unto them, that if they shall seriously repent of their sins, believe in the LORD JESUS, and by his grace walk in all the ways of GOD, and as becomes the Gospel of CHRIST, as this will be to the honor and glory of Him that made them, so it will redound to their own unspeakable comfort, in this, and in another world: arid their father that now speaks unto them, with their dear mother, now with GOD, shall exceedingly rejoice in the day of CHRIST, when we shall receive our children unto those habitations; and shall see, not ourselves alone, but those also who have come forth of our bowels, to have their portion in that eternal glory. In desire and hope that it may be so, I commend them all to the blessing of the LORD of Heaven: and let the blessing of GOD in JESUS CHRIST be poured out, and remain with them all evermore. Amen."

 

THE LIFE
OF
JOHN ROW.

            JOHN Row, the son of LAWRENCE Row, was born in the parish of Shobrook, in Devonshire, in, that remarkable year, 1588. When he was an infant, he was laid aside in his cradle for dead: but it pleased GOD that one of his sisters went to-, look upon him, once more, and, putting her hand to his mouth, she Thought that she felt a little breath; whereupon, some means being presently used, he began to revive: and probably, by this early and signal providence, the LORD intimated that he had reserved him for some more than ordinary service.

            He was, by his parents, sent to school at Crediton, and was almost fit for the University; but it pleased GOD to take away his father a little before the intended time, concerning which himself would often say, that " we frequently err in our judgments of things," and that, " GOD sees not as man sees." Being frustrated of the hopes he had of going to the University, he would not lose that learning which he had got at school only the Greek, through disuse, was somewhat worn out with him; but he still retained the exact knowledge of the Latin tongue, which was of great use to him till his (lying day. He was of a sharp wit; and of a deep and penetrating judgment: himself complained of some deficiency in his memory, but others discerned it not; for they judged him to excel in that, as well as in other abilities of the mind. As for his natural temper, he was a man of great ingenu­ousness, and of much candor and sweetness: they who knew him intimately, judged him to have as noble and generous a soul, as any that they ever knew. He was ex­ceedingly affable and courteous unto all, and that without the least show or suspicion, of seeiJn his own ends in it; his temper inclining him to be pleasing to all: and there was riot the meanest person who could say, that he was neglected or despised by him. He was very careful to give a due respect to all, and never was any one more exact in paying a just reverence to those who were above him.

In his behavior he was humble, sweet, and candid; as ready to hear others speak as to speak himself; and usually he would give others leave to speak before him. And yet, which is not common, although his natural candor was such, be was a man of great presence and authority. He seldom spoke in any serious matter, but his speech car­ried with it a peculiar kind of authority: and such a ma­jesty shone in his conversation, that some, and those re­puted both prudent arid pious, taking notice of the excel­lency of his spirit, the luster of his graces, and how much his conversation differed from that of thegenerality of men, have professed, that when they have been in his company, they had a kind of awe upon them, and could not be so free, whilst they were with him, as when they were among others.

            When his father was dead, he went to live with DR. BODLEY, brother to SIR THOMAS BODLEY, the founder of the University-Library in Oxford, a man of eminent piety and exemplary holiness, who at this time was Minister of the parish where Mx. Row was horn. From this holy man, MR. Row learned much of the work of GOD upon his soul; and as he learned much from him, so he was not a little beloved of him, the Doctor bearing as tender respect to him as if he had been his own child.

            Living thus; with DR. BODLEY, and afterwards, for a while, with another godly gentleman, MR. THOMAS GALE, of Creditors, he had opportunities of frequently going to LONDON, where he heard those preachers who were in the greatest repute, and by them was much holpen in spiritual knowledge, and quickened in his love to the ways of GOD. But DR. BODLEY'S counsel, together with his holy ex­ample, (he being a man of an austere life, and most strict conversation,) seemed to be that which had most in­fluence upon him; for nothing was more familiar with him through his whole life, than to be speaking, upon all occasions, of what he had seen, and heard, and observed, in this worthy Doctor. The sermons, also, and preaching of DR. BODLEY were of great use to him. For this was MR. Row's observation concerning him, that whatever were the subject of which the Doctor had been treating, yet still, when he came to the application, the use that he was sure to make of it, was this,-to drive men to CHRIST.

            About the twenty-fifth year of his age he was disposed of in marriage, about which there were some remark­able providences, which he Thought fit to record in these words:­

            " When I was desirous to enter into the state of marriage, I was assayed with covetousness, voluptuousness, and am­bition, and should surely have undone myself by some, or by all of these evils, had not my gracious GOD, by disappointing my desires for seven years, prevented my folly. O what a misery is it for vain Thouth to have its will! O what a blessing to bear the yoke betimes!-especially when GOD will open the ear to discipline, as (blessed be-his name!) he did mine at last.

            " My gracious GOD, crossing those unsanctified desires of mine for several years, did at length teach me to desire marriage for better ends: and having begun to set my mind in order, he also brought on the blessing. For first he prepared my heart to seek him by prayer for a meet helper; and then he opened his ear, and granted my request; so that even in the same day wherein he had stirred me up, in a more than ordinary manner, to seek a blessing in my marriage by prayer, he was pleased to give me evidence that he bad heard rue, in sending me an honest Christian, who came, to me on purpose to break the matter for marriage with her, whom afterwards GOD gave me to wife. " This match SATAN attempted to hinder, by stirring up a near friend of mine to fail in the performance of his promise made to me for my preferment; which justly might have alienated the minds of my wife's parents from me, but that my gracious GOD would not suffer SATAN to do me that mischief: yea, more than that, he gave me grace to seek reconciliation with that friend of mine, who had so deeply wronged me."

            The family into which he married was godly, who the rather embraced MR. Row's motion, because of what they had heard concerning his religion. She whom he took to wife was a very sincere woman, Though she walked in darkness a great part of her life; yet when she was upon her death-bed, complaining that she had no assurance of GOD’s love, Ma. Row besought the LORD very earnestly for her; and a little before her death, the LORD gave her assurance of being received into his heavenly kingdom, and this in a more than ordinary manner.

            After MR. Row's marriage, he continued for four years in his father-in-law's house at Pinhow, in Devonshire; a place enriched with divers worldly contentments, but all imbittered for want of the ministry of GOD’s word. After a time, hearing that there was an able Preacher at Crediton, he removed thither, on purpose to enjoy the means of grace; and continued there to his dying day. And he would often exhort his children and acquaintance, that, in choosing a habitation, their first care should be to plant themselves under a godly and powerful ministry.

Not long after his coming to Crediton, he was made High Constable, in which office he continued for twenty years. In this place, his care, diligence, and zeal for suppressing vice, were such, that his name became a terror to the wicked; and his prudence, charity, and compassion,

were not inferior to his zeal: for he used first to seek to win offenders by good counsel, and gentle admonitions, before he would use the severity of the law against them; and he had a special care to let men see that his heat was not against their persons, but against their vices. And such was GOD’S presence with him, such the authority and majesty which shone in his carriage, that although he was forced to punish many for their misdemeanors, yet none had power so much as to lift up a hand against hint. One instance of this is too remarkable to be here omitted. A certain ruffian, having been punished by hint for some gross misdemeanor, vowed that the next time he met him he would stab him; and being put into the stocks, his rage was such, that not being able to have his will upon MR. Row, he struck at the stones with his knife for very madness. Yet afterwards when he met MR. Row, and might have had opportunity to revenge himself upon him, the LORD so overpowered him, that he was as a man struck dumb, and had not a word to say.

            Many of his friends, who knew MR. Row's abilities, often solicited him to take the office of a Justice of the Peace; but such were his humility and modesty, that he would by no means yield to it, saying, he had neither abilities, nor an estate fit for it, and that it was a way to make authority contemptible, when inferior persons were put into such places. He was very circumspect to cut off all occasions of offence from such as would be ready to take it. Being used in, his younger days to shoot with the long bow for his recreation, once meeting with an offender against the law, he rebuked him for it. The man answered, " Why may I not as well do this, as Thou shoot with a bow?" Upon this he laid it aside, and would never shoot afterwards.

            He was of a very peaceable temper; never fomenting differences, but seeking all he could to compose them. If any jarring happened between him and any others, the fault was usually theirs, because he could not comply with their corruption,;, but sought their reformation. He was a great peace maker, and spent much of his time in com­posing differences among neighbors: many law-suits he prevented; many differences between near relations he reconciled; and the LORD so blessed these his endeavors, that he was seldom free from such employments. Upon one occasion he said to a ration of his, that he might have increased his estate much’more, had he spent that time in prosecuting his own affairs, -which he spent in the businesses of other men. He made other men's occa­sions and conditions his own; deeply sympathizing with their distresses, and praying as affectionately for them as for himself: and when he had undertaken their affairs, he would act as vigorously in their behalf, as if it were his own concern, Though he neither sought nor reaped any advantage to himself by it.

            He was forty years old before he attained a full assur­ance of the love of GOD; but having once obtained it, he never lost it; so that he enjoyed the comfort of it for above thirty years: arid, as himself said, he maintained it by a diligent and constant use of all the means of grace, both public and private, and by taking an account of his heart, at least once every day; and at some seasons he had more special experience of the testimony of GOD’s SPIRIT, together with that of his own.

            Some one asking him about this testimony of the SPIRIT, he answered, " It is a secret overpowering [conviction], that I am his, and he is mine: I am my Well-beloved's, and my Well-beloved is mine." He observed that the likeliest means to attain assurance, was to propound spiritual ends to ourselves in desiring it; not so much that we might be quiet and free from trouble in our con­sciences, but that, by the knowledge of GOD’s love to us, we might be able to give GOD the glory of his own grace, and be carried out to higher degrees in our obedience. For, said lie, " There may be much selfishness in seeking peace. I find it best when I come to the greatest heights of peace, to study my deity,-what it is that GOD would have me to do, and to follow him therein: otherwise I meet with a cloud.

            In his accounts which he made up every day, the method that he used in his meditation was, to consider what GOD had done for him, and what his carriage had been towards GOD. And he said, that when he considered what GOD’s carriage towards him had been, there he saw that GOD had been doing him good in a constant tenour; but that when he reflected upon himself, there he saw many failings. Whereupon he said, that there was no action done by him that was ever so good, but there was some circum­stance or other in which he saw himself defective. And he added, 111 have accounted it a great attainment, when the LORD has showed me some defects in my best actions, which have led me entirely out of myself unto JESUS CHRIST." By this constant practice of reviewing his life and actions, he kept much inward peace of conscience: and by this means he attained to as habitual a persua­sion of the love of GOD as most have attained unto, so that he walked in the light of GOD’s countenance from day to day. His constant prayer was, that his faith might be so strengthened, as to see and behold the love of GOD in all the passages of his life, that (with ABRAHAM) he might give the LORD glory by believing.

            He was very jealous of losing this blessed privilege, namely, the sense which he had of the love of GOD, and the light of his countenance in which he walked. He said, that there were two things which he mainly desired of GOD: First, that having been a professor of religion so long, he might be kept from scandalous sins: Secondly, that GOD would not hide his face from him; saying, that he was a man of a low spirit, and that without-GOD’s presence he could not subsist. And therefore, said he, " I saw it necessary to be kept under affliction, that I might be humble; knowing that GOD would not reveal himself to proud persons."

            Besides this habitual peace and assurance, he had many particular -comforts from the LORD at several times, and upon several occasions. Usually when he laid him down to rest at night, he had this promise sealed to him; "Fear not; I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." When he had been begging a high degree of holiness, the LORD hinted to him, " I will satisfy thee." When the LORD took away his first wife, whereupon he was troubled how to dispose of his children, the LORD comforted him with these words: " They are thine but for a time, but they are mine for ever." Having been exercised with a fit of the stone, he wrote thus to a friend: " This is to let Thou know in how fatherly a manner the LORD dealeth with us: Though afflicted, yet we are not forsaken. That which sweetens all my afflictions is, the inward peace which the LORD is pleased to give me in all my outward pain." When he was in any special strait or difficulty, and needed counsel, the LORD did always, first or last, (after his earnest seeking to him,) make his way plain before him.

            The LORD did also many times give him secret hints what he was about to do. When any great thing was ap­proaching relating to himself, his family, or the Church, he had usually some intimations from GOD concerning it. On one occasion, he was observed to be very sad, saying, that GOD had intimated to him, that he would make some change in his family, but what it would be he knew not; and he made this use of it, to set his house in order; and not long after the LORD took away a near relation, which proved a great affliction to him. And Though the LORD did many extraordinary things, yet did he not expect them, neither did he (as LUTHER speaks of himself) inden­ture with the LORD that he should give them unto him, much less would he boast of things of this nature. He was content with the plain, naked word of GOD, and all his study and delight lay therein.

            He was much in prayer, and had a singular ability in me­ditation; and this made him a wise man, and a wise Christian. He would seldom answer any serious matter, without first pausing a while. He was much delighted in a saying of DR. PRESTON'S, " that the greatest musers are the best artists." He was so much taken up in meditation, that he found himself much spent by it, and would say, " That meditation was a spending thing." Sometimes in a morn­ing, he would be meditating an hour or two together: and when he was riding or walking abroad, (if he was alone,) he would still be in meditation. When he went about his worldly affairs, he would contrive them beforehand, and spend what spare time he had in heavenly contem­plation. He seldom prayed in secret, without having first prepared himself for it by meditation; saying, that he preferred a short prayer after long meditation, before a long prayer without meditation. And whenever he heard a sermon, he spent a considerable time in meditation upon what he had heard.

            He used to say, that if he were in a place where he might have opportunity of hearing more than two sermons a day, he should not like it so well to hear much, unless he could have liberty to digest it by meditation. In medi­tating upon the things he heard, he would diligently look into all the texts that were _quoted; often speaking of that famous instance of the Bereans, of whom the Hoj.Y GHOST testifies, that they were more noble than those of Thessa­lonica, because they searched the Scriptures, whether those things were so. This meditation helped him greatly, insomuch that by a diligent inquiry into the Scriptures, and musing upon what he had heard, he was sometimes carried much farther than the Minister. And when he came to repeat those sermons in his family, (as his con­stant practice was,) having meditated upon them before­hand, he would clear up those passages that had been deli­vered more darkly. And if the Preacher was of meaner parts and gifts, and what he had delivered might not seem so useful, he would so explain and illustrate what he heard, that the sermon was always rendered profitable in his re­petition of it.

After his Repetition on the LORD'S-Days, he used to call his children and servants to an account of what they had heard and learned: if any had been careless, he would reprove them for their negligence, and show them the danger they were in by their unprofitableness: such as were apt and forward to remember, he would encourage, often mentioning that speech of our SAVIOR, " To him that has, shall be given; but from him that has not, shall be taken away even that which he has." And Though when there was occasion, he would speak with great authority, yet when he came to discourse with his children and servants about these things, he would speak with much familiarity and condescension to the meanest of their capacities; thereby insinuating himself into their affec­tions, begetting a love in them to the word, and taking opportunity to make things more plain and easy to their understandings.

            He was much and frequent in prayer. He often prayed with his wife alone; and when any great occasion happened in the day, he would retire into his closet, to ask counsel and a blessing from the LORD. Every month he kept a private fast by himself, (besides what he did upon emer­gent occasions,) to seek the LORD, and the better to prepare himself for the Lord's-Supper, at which time also he had much upon his heart the concerns of the church. Whenever any affliction befell him, or any of his family, or of his relations, his constant course was, to seek the LORD in an extraordinary way. And if there were any great business that he was to undertake, or any great strait wherein he needed divine counsel or pro­tection, he still set time apart in a more than ordinary gianner, unto which he used to have some gracious return.

Besides his set times of prayer, he was frequent in holy ejaculations; and he was very punctual in keeping his times and seasons for prayer, reading, and meditation. Though his worldly business was sometimes very urgent, yet was he always very does to abridge himself in his wonted course of holy exercises; and if at any time he was abridged of his full time, he would redeem the next opportunity to regain what he had lost. He used to say, that when he did hasten over holy duties out of an eager desire to follow his worldly business, he did many times meet with a cross in it; but when he did spend his ordinary time, GOD did make his other business to prosper the better, or if not, his mind was brought to submit to the will of God.

            In all his prayers, whether alone or with others, his heart was greatly affected, and carried out with much holy zeal and fervency. In his old age, his heart would often melt and be dissolved into tears, and his affections seemed to be as vigorous as the affections of young con­verts. When he joined with others in holy duties, he was far from a remiss and careless carriage. His deportment was so reverent, and mixed with such affections, that the Minister under whom he lived would profess, that he found himself much quickened by observing his lively affections: and if at any time he found a deadness coming upon him, it grieved him more than any outward affliction.

            If he awoke in a morning before his ordinary time, yet he would get up; and his manner was to spend some time in meditation, for the most part about the great work of our redemption, and on the sacrifice of the LORD JESUS, which he offered up to his Father for the taking away of his people's sins: and he used to counsel his children, every morning to take a turn at the Cross of CHRIST, and to think of his sufferings, " which," said he, " will be a means to make Thou love CHRIST the more." While he was dressing himself in a morning, he would drop holy instructions among those that were about him; and when he was ready, his first work was to retire into his closet, where he spent a considerable time in reading, meditation, and prayer. Every morning he read some part of the Scriptures, with some commentary upon the same.

Having ended his private devotions, he used to call his family together, to whom he communicated what he had learned by his own meditation, and by the authors whom he read: and whatsoever his worldly business might be, he would rarely omit this exercise in his family. And such were his modesty and humility in managing this business, that he would tell them, he would not take upon him to interpret the Scripture, but only would communicate to them what he had learned from judicious Divines. By this constant course of reading and meditation, he became expert and mighty in the Scriptures; so that, in his family duties, he would open the Scriptures with much clearness of judgment, the LORD enduing him with a more than ordinary ability to make things plain to the meanest capacity. And when he came to apply things to those of his own family, he would carefully consider every one's condition; and to those whom he feared to be still in the state of nature, he would lay open the danger of their present condition, and what a sad thing it was for them to remain out of CHRIST. And whatever the matter was that he had been speaking of, his exhortation still was to press them to look after CHRIST, in whom the FATHER had laid up all grace, and from whom they must expect to receive all grace. And his exhortations were given with so much authority, and there was so great a presence of GOD with him, that many (besides his own family) who occasionally came to his house, and heard him, will have cause to bless GOD for him to all eternity.

            Having spent about a quarter of an hour in these ex­hortations, he would close the duties with prayer, wherein he would not be long; but his prayer was so substantial, that he would comprehend the whole of religion in a short prayer. His prayer seemed to be nothing but a digested meditation, influenced by the SPIRIT OF GOD; every passage in it had its weight, and not one sentence could well be spared. Though he varied in its form, the substance and materials of his prayers were for the most part the same; yet still he took in the other necessities of his family, as the various providences of GOD gave occasion. The main scope at which his prayers were leveled, was the glory of GOD; he was still carried above himself to eye and aim at that, and still would thus be expressing it; "Loan, glorify thyself in our salvation: glorify thyself in bestowing this or that grace upon us." The matter of his prayer was always commensurate to the word of GOD; what the word required of us as a duty, either in our general or particular callings, or in relation to the various pro­vidences of GOD, that was ever the matter of his prayers. And he was most eminent in this point, namely, that having a very large and comprehensive charity, he would still take in the concernment of the church catholic.

            In the evening, before supper, if he could get liberty, he spent some time in reading the works of some eminent Divine; and betook most delight' in DR. PRESTON'S books, wherein he was so conversant, that most of the choicest passages in his writings became very familiar with him. Then he betook himself to his constant course of prayer and meditation. After supper he caused his children, and the young scholars that were in his house, (which for many years was never empty of such, who were sent to the grammar-school, and by their parents were placed in his family, to enjoy the benefit of his instructions and holy example,) each of them to read a chapter; which being done, he would call together his whole family, and would spend the rest of the evening in catechizing, or in repeating some sermon that had been preached in the week-day.

When the Sabbath was approaching, he would endeavor so to order his affairs, that he might dispatch his worldly business in due season, and thus have the more liberty in the evening to set his heart in order for the duties of the LORD's-day. When it was come, he would spend most of the morning in secret prayer and medita­tion, and he used to be shorter in his family duties on that day than on others, that so they might not be hin­dered from attending the public ordinances. And his care was to be there at the beginning; for he used to say, that it seas fitter for them to wait for the Minister, than that the Minister should wait for them; and he would often mention the example and speech Of CORNELI