officers and other nonconformists") upon suspicion of a plot, during the great plague of 1665, of which he, and most of his fellow-prisoners, perished. Calamy says, that "neither in Mr. Flavel's case, nor the case of others who suffered at that time and on that occasion, was there any thing like a proof of real guilt. He was a very good man, and an affectionate preacher." The son, after the act had passed by which he was forced to relinquish his living of Dartmouth, "not thinking his relation to his people thereupon at an end, continued the exercise of his ministry among them as he had opportunity"—but upon the coming out of the Oxford act (in 1665), removed to Shapton, about five miles distant, where he preached twice every Lord's day, to such as would venture to be his auditors, and thence made private visits to his friends at Dartmouth. The accidents of his after-life appear to have been such as were common to him with most of the zealous nonconformists of those troubled times. Once he narrowly escaped shipwreck off the Island of Portland, on his passage to London, whither he was compelled to retire for a time, "from the malice of his enemies;" and Calamy rather more than insinuates, that his prayer to God, upon that occasion, worked the instantaneous deliverance of himself and the ship's crew. Afterwards, on his return home, he was for some time confined a prisoner to his own house. Upon King James's declaration, in 1687, he resumed the public exercise of his ministerial functions, and continued in the pious discharge of them until his death, at the time recorded upon his tomb-stone. 'He was not only zealous in the pulpit, but a sincere lively Christian in his closet. He was an encourager of young men designed for the ministry, and had some few under his care, whom he instructed in academical learning, to whom he was peculiarly kind. He was generally respected; and yet, at some particular times, he had some experience of the rage of his enemies-but he was above it. Thus, in the year 1685, when some of the people of Dartmouth, accompanied by some of the magistrates, were actuated by such a spirit of madness, as to make up his effigies, and carry it through the streets in derision, with the covenant and bill of exclusion pinned to it, and burn it, he, in the mean time, retired, and offered up his most hearty prayers to God, for the town of Dartmouth, its magistrates and inhabitants. And when the passages of their mock shew were afterwards related to him, he made no other return, than in the words of our Saviour: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

66

The treatise in question is introduced by an "Epistle Dedicatory," dated" from my study at Ley, in Shapton, Oct. 7, 1667," and thus addressed. "To my dearly beloved and longed for, the flock of Jesus Christ in Dartmouth, over whom

the Holy Ghost hath made me an overseer; sound judgement, true zeal, and unstained purity, are heartily wished.

The affectionate and earnest style of this discourse, free alike from canting professions and baneful enthusiasm, is such as to win the good will and attentive disposition of the persons addressed; and it speaks most eloquently in favour of the chastened and pious character of the apostle, that, dating from the place of his banishment, and so shortly after he had sustained the loss of a parent, from the persecution of those by whom he was himself deprived of the means of comfortable subsistence, he neither in this place, nor in the whole of the ensuing discourse, (though led by his subject, in speaking of "The Seasons in which the Heart must be especially kept," to treat of "The Season of Adversity,"-" of Trouble in the Church,"" of Danger"-" Want"-" Injury"—" of Great Provocation"—"Temptation" -"Temptation"-"Spiritual Darkness"-and "Persecution,") makes any allusion to the afflictions he has himself suffered, or the real or supposed guilt of the prevailing party who had been the instruments of inflicting them. This is, indeed, (to employ the title of another of Flavel's works by way of application to his individual character) a true "Touchstone of Sincerity." Time, the great remover of mere party distinctions, has taught us to look with utter indifference, as opposed to each other, on the sufferings of the "Bartholomew Saints" and the "Sequester'd Clergy;" and we no longer stand in need of good Mr. Walker's assistance in calling to our minds the eight thousand Episcopalians "imprisoned, banished, and sent a starving," by the Oliverian committees, to enable us to view, in the two thousand who were ejected by the act of uniformity, no more than a very small and inconsiderable detachment of the great army of martyrs,-an august assembly, which has gone on, through all ages of the world, continually augmenting, and which will for ever increase, so long as the good and evil principles of our nature are allowed to set themselves in array against each other, be the cause what it will, the provocation however unprovoked, and the voluntary resignation however unstained by the alloy of pride, obstinacy, or other baser mixtures. Let us, as much as we please, applaud the temper of the age we live in for its improvement in charitableness, or condemn it for its self-seeking" spirit and want of public or religious principle, we may rest satisfied, that there will yet be no want either of opportunity or example, both of infliction and of endurance; but when the endurance is meek and unrepining, and when the injuries inflicted, instead of calling forth the bitter spirit of indignation, are treated only as the means (without reference to the instruments) employed by an invisible Providence for bettering the heart, and exalting and purifying the mental philosophy, it

66

is then that we acknowledge "the saint indeed,” and exult in our conviction of the perfectibility of human nature.

To judge from the tendency of this simple and affectionate address to the people of his flock, such was the character of the pastor of Dartmouth. But we will no longer withhold from our readers the inducements we mean to afford them for forming their own judgement of his merits as a writer.

The epistle dedicatory thus opens.

"My dear friends, there are three sad sights with which our eyes should continually affect our hearts. The first is, to behold in every place so many profane and dissolute ones, who bear the very image of Satan; the face of whose conversation plainly discovers what they are, and whither they are going. These look like themselves, the children of wrath. The second is, to see so many cursed hypocrites artificially disguising themselves, and, with marvellous dexterity, acting the parts of saints, so that even a judicious eye may, sometimes, mistake the workings of the spirit on them, for his saving workings on others. To hear such a person censuring, praying, bewailing his corruptions, and talking of his experience, would easily persuade a man to believe that he has the heart, as well as the face, of a sincere Christiansic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat-so the people of God speak, so they pray, and even so they open their conditions. These look like saints, but are none. The third is, to see so many real saints, in whom the spirit of truth is, who yet, through the impetuous workings of their corruptions and neglecting the watch over their hearts, often fall into such scandalous practices, that they look like hypocrites, though they are not so. These are three sad sights indeed, and "oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes fountains of tears," that I might weep abundantly over them all! For the first I would mourn heartily, considering that they, so continuing, must be damned eternally. For the second I would both weep and tremble, considering that they, so abiding, must be damned doubly. And for the third I would weep no less than for any of the rest, because though they themselves may and shall be saved, yet their example makes fast the bonds of death on both the former."

He desires "all such as harden themselves, and take up an opinion of their own deplorable condition, would soberly consider and answer these three queries

"1. Does religion in any way countenance or patronize the sinful practices of its professors? or does it not rather impartially and severely condemn them? There is, indeed, a case wherein we may charge the evil practices of men upon their principles, but that is when their practices naturally flow from and necessarily follow their principles: as, for example, if I see a papist sin boldly, I may charge it upon his principles, for they set pardons to sale, and so make way for looseness; if I see an Arminian slight the grace of God, and proudly advance himself, I may cry shame upon his principles, which directly lead to it: but can I do

so when such practices are condemned and provided against by their own avowed principles, who commit them?

"2. Is it not a most irrational thing to rail at religion on account of the scandalous ways of some, whilst, in the mean time, you wholly slight and overlook the holy and heavenly conversation of many others? Are all that profess godliness loose and careless in their lives? No: some are an ornament to their profession, and the glory of Christ. And why must the innocent be condemned with the guilty? Why the eleven for one Judas?

"3. If you condemn religion because of the scandalous lives of some who profess it, must you not then cast off all religion in the world, and turn downright atheists? Surely this is the natural consequence; for what religion is there, but some that profess it walk contrary to their profession? And then, as Constantine told the Novatian, you must set up a ladder, and go to heaven by yourself."

Our good author falls a little too much into the fashion of the times, in ascribing to a particular providence the accidental circumstance which, he says, first led to the design of this publication; but to the objections which he supposes may be raised against it, he gives some general answers not unworthy of observation.

"If any say, the world is even cloyed with books, and therefore though the discourse be necessary, yet the publication is needless, I answer, there are, indeed, multitudes of books, but many of them concern not themselves about fundamental truths and practical godliness, but spend their strength on impractical notions and perilous controversies; many, also, strike at fundamental truths, and endeavour to undermine the power of godliness; and some there are that nourish the root, and tend to clear and confirm, to prepare and apply the great truths of the gospel, that they may be bread for souls to live and feed on. Now, though I could wish that those who have handled the pen of the scribe, had better employed their time and pains, than to obtrude such useless discourses on the world, yet as to books of the latter rank, I will say, that when husbandmen complain of too much corn, then let Christians complain of too many such books. And if you be so highly conceited of your own ability, that such books are needless to you, if you let them alone they will do you no hurt, and other poor hungry souls will be glad of them, and bless God for what you despise and burn.

"If it be said, that several of the cases here handled touch not your condition, I answer, that that which is not your condition may be another's condition. If you are placed in an easy, full, and prosperous

state, and so have no need of the helps here offered to support your hearts under pinching wants, others are forced to live by faith for every day's provision. If you are dandled upon the knee of providence, some of your brethren are under its feet, &c."

Then follows a pleasing allusion to the circumstances in which he is placed, but without a single complaint or murmur

from which we might collect that he was suffering under the injustice of others.

6

"The consideration of my constrained absence from you also weighed with me. I would not that personal absence should, by insensible degrees, untwist, as it usually does, the cord of friendship; and therefore I have endeavoured, as absent friends are accustomed to do, to preserve and strengthen it by this small remembrance. It was Vespasian's answer to Apollonius, when he desired access for two philosophers, My doors are always open to philosophers, but my very breast is open to thee.' I cannot say with him, my doors are open for the free access of friends, being, by a sad providence, shut against myself; but this I can say, my very breast is still open to you; you are as dear to me as ever.-I was willing to leave this with you as a legacy, as a testimony of sincere love for, and care over you. This may counsel and direct you when I cannot. I may be rendered useless to you by a civil or natural death, but this will outlive me; and O that it may serve your souls, when I am silent in the dust!

"To hasten now to a conclusion; I have only these three requests to you, which I earnestly beseech you not to deny me; yea, I charge you, as ever you hope to appear with comfort before the great Shepherd, do not dare to slight these requests.

"Above all other studies in the world, study your own hearts: waste not a minute more of your precious time about frivolous controversies. It is reported even of Bellarmine, that he turned with loathing from the study of school-divinity, because it wasted the sweet juice of piety. I had rather it should be said of you, as one said of Swinkfeldius, He wanted a regular head, but not an honest heart,' than that you should have regular heads and irregular hearts. My dear flock, I have, according to the grace given me, laboured in the course of my ministry among you, to feed you with the heart-strengthening bread of practical doctrine; and I do assure you, it is far better you should have the sweet and saving impressions of gospel-truths feelingly and powerfully conveyed to your hearts, than only to understand them by a bare ratiocination, or dry syllogistical inference. Leave trifling studies to such as have time lying on their hands, and know not how to employ it. Remember, you are at the door of eternity, and have other work to do. Those hours you spend on heart-work in your closets are the golden spots of all your time, and will have the sweetest influence on your last hours. Heart-work is weighty and difficult work; an error there may cost you your souls. I may say of it, as Augustine speaks of the doctrine of the Trinity, A man can err in nothing more easily or more dangerously.' O, then, study your hearts."

His next request to his hearers, is, "that they will carefully look to their conversation, and be accurate in all their ways." The last is more personally affecting and solemn.

"My third and last request is, that you pray for me. I hope I can say, and I am sure some of you have acknowledged, that I came at first among you as the return and answer of your prayers: and in