industry; and we feel that they must have been a genial and gay-hearted people who taught their evergreens to ramp like lions, or flap their wings like crowing cocks. And more especially, we feel that but for this grotesque beginning we might never have arrived at the landscape gardens of later times. Though they were the mere memorials of what amused our fathers, we could tolerate these conceits in cypress and yew; but when we recollect that they were the first attempts at the picturesque, and the commencement of modern elegance, we view them with a deeper interest. Doubtless this alliterative and antistrophic style was eventually overdone; and like the Dutch gardener, who locked up his apprentice in the one summer-house because he had secured a thief in the other, the later Puritans sacrificed everything to verbal jingles and acrostic symmetry. But Philip Henry was a scholar, and a man of vigorous intellect, and, in the sense most signal, a man of God. Translated into the tamest language, his sayings would still be weighty; but when we reflect that to his peasant hearers their original terseness answered all the purpose of an artificial memory, we not only forgive but admire it. Many a good thought has perished because it was not portable, and many a sermon is forgotten because it is not memorable; but like seeds with wings, the sayings of Philip Henry have floated far and near, and like seeds with hooked prickles, his sermons stuck to his most careless hearers. His tenacious words took root, and it was his happiness to see not only scriptural intelligence, but fervent and consistent piety spreading amongst his parishioners. When he first came to Worthenbury, he found many adults very ignorant; but by explaining to them the Catechism, and patiently instructing them, he brought them up to such a level of Christian intelligence, that afterwards he confined his catechising to young persons under eighteen years of age. also kept up a monthly conference in private, from house to "He PASTORAL ASSIDUITY. 223 house, in which he met with the knowing and judicious of the parish; and they discoursed familiarly together of the things of God, after the manner of the apostles, who taught from house to house. By this means he came better to understand the state of his flock, and so knew the better how to preach to them, and pray for them, and they to pray for one another. If they were in doubt about anything relating to their souls, that was an opportunity of getting satisfaction. It was likewise a means of increasing knowledge, and love, and other graces; and thus it abounded to a good account.' From the hope of doing good, not only to themselves, but their relatives, he was very assiduous in his visits to the sick; and “in order to plough where the soil is soft," he preached a funeral sermon for every one who died within the bounds of his little parish, whether rich or poor, young or old, or little children. And although the restoration of Episcopacy soon brought his labours to an end, a pastorate so affectionate and assiduous could scarcely fail to result in the salvation of many souls. " Soon after settling at Worthenbury, Mr Philip Henry sought in marriage the only daughter and heiress of Mr Matthews of Broad Oak. There was some demur on the part of her father; he allowed that Mr Henry was a gentleman, a scholar, and an excellent preacher, but he was a stranger, and they did not even know where he came from. "True," said Miss Matthews; "but I know where he is going, and I should like to go with him:" and she went. There is little recorded of her, except that she was very kind-hearted, devout, and charitable, "and always well satisfied with whatever God and her friends did for her." Five of their six children grew up; and when Bartholomew-day banished Philip Henry from his pulpit and his people, his wife's inheritance of Broad Oak furnished an asylum for the rest of his days, and a more comfortable retreat than was available to the families of most ejected ministers. "Life of Philip Henry," by Matthew Henry. Seldom has a scene of purer domestic happiness been witnessed than the love of God and one another created there. Ensconced in his well-furnished library, transcribing into his folio commonplace-book choice sentences from Cicero and Seneca, Augustine and Ambrose, Calvin and Beza, Baxter and Caryl, or writing out courses of sermons which he yet hoped to preach, the industrious divine improved his abundant leisure. And whilst his partner looked well to the ways of her household, the thriving fields and tasteful garden proclaimed their united husbandry. Standing hospitably by the wayside, their house received frequent visits from the most renowned and godly men in that vicinity-visits to which their children looked forward with veneration and joy, and which left their long impression on youthful memories. And on all the inmates of the family, the morning and evening worship told with hallowing power. Seldom has this ordinance been observed so sacredly, or rendered so delightful. Alluding to the words chalked on plague-stricken houses, Philip Henry would say, "If the worship of God be not within, write 'Lord, have mercy upon us,' on the door; for a plague, a curse is there." And as he deemed it so important, he laboured to make it instructive and engaging to all. In the morning he arranged it so that the bustle of the day should not infringe on it, and in the evening so early that no little girl should be nodding at the chapter, nor any drowsy servant yawning through the prayer. "Better one away than all sleepy," he would say, if occasionally obliged to begin before some absentee returned; but so much did the fear of God and affection for the head of the household reign, that none were wilfully missing. And with this "hem" around it, the business of each successive day was effectually kept from "ravelling." It was his custom to expound a portion of Scripture, and he encouraged his children to write notes of these familiar explanations. Before they quitted the paternal roof, each of them had in this way secured in manuscript a copious commentary on the Bible, which they treasured up as a precious memorial of their happy early days, and of their heavenly-minded father. In the hands of his only son these simple notes became the germ of the most popular English commentary. *-It is this son's history which * There is in Christian biography nothing more pleasing and edifying than the "Life of Philip Henry," by his like-minded son. Mr Pierce Seaman, who is now possessor of some of the most interesting of the Henry manuscripts, has kindly communicated the following hymns, which he possesses in Philip Henry's handwriting, and which, as far as we know, are unpublished:- 'Tis my ambition now my God to please, Stand near Thy throne, and at Thy feet adore, Oh! when will this long dream of life be done, How dear, how joyous will the pleasure be To dwell amidst the beamings of Thy face, Drink in Thy looks, and with Thy likeness blaze! O my dear God! now lift mine head on high; In Thine abode let all my treasure lie, That I at last may climb the heavenly height, PSALM XXVII. 13. My God, when storms of trouble rise, And overwhelm my soul, To Thee I'll lift believing eyes, Thou wilt their rage control. we ought to sketch; but as the Broad Oak family was one, and Matthew and his sisters not only loved one another tenderly, but pursued the same solid and useful studies for a long time together, we may for a few moments glance at the latter. Though younger than her brother, Sarah was the oldest sister. When six or seven years of age her father taught her Hebrew, and among other good customs she early began to take notes of sermons, so that before she reached her three Long since, with numerous griefs opprest, I h'd sunk beneath my load, But that I hoped (when thus distrest) Oh, help me firmly to believe Thy faithful promise, Lord; Full credit to Thy truth to give, Faith will disperse my gloomy fears, Though I all merit must disclaim, Nay, faith will bear my soul away Where all my treasures lie. Soon will this gloomy scene retire, Though faint before, now I revive; These thoughts my spirits raise; Joyful I feel myself alive, And triumph in Thy grace. |