This

make as great a show and bustle in the world as they did? And if you look back three or four or five hundred years the case is still so much the worse; the world would be over-peopled; and where there is one poor miserable man now, there must have been five hundred; or the world must have been common, and all men reduced to the same level; which, I believe, the rich and happy people, who are so fond of long life, would not like very well. This would utterly undo our young prodigal heirs, were their hopes of succession three or four hundred years off, who, as short as life is now, think their fathers make very little haste to their graves. would spoil their trade of spending their estates before they have them, and make them live a dull sober life, whether they would or no; and such a life, I know, they don't think worth having. And therefore I hope at least they will not make the shortness of their fathers' lives an argument against providence; and yet such kind of sparks as these are commonly the wits that set up for atheism, and when it is put into their heads, quarrel with everything which they fondly conceive will weaken the belief of a God and a providence, and, among other things, with the shortness of life; which they have little reason to do, when they so often outlive their estates.

3dly, The world is very bad as it is; so bad that good men scarce know how to spend fifty or threescore years in it; but consider how bad it would probably be were the life of man extended to six, seven, or eight hundred years. If so near a prospect of the other world as forty or fifty years cannot restrain men from the greatest villainies, what would they do if they could as reasonably suppose death to be three or four hundred years off? If men make such improvements in wickedness in twenty or thirty years, what would they do in hundreds? And what a blessed place then would this world be to live in! We see in the old world, when the life of men was drawn out to so great a length, the wickedness of mankind grew so insufferable that it repented God he had made man; and he resolved to destroy that whole generation, excepting Noah and his family. And the most probable account that can be given how they came to grow so universally wicked, is the long and prosperous lives of such wicked men, who by degrees corrupted others, and they others, till there was but one righteous family left, and no other remedy left but to destroy them all; leaving only that righteous family as the seed and future hopes of the new world.

And when God had determined in himself and promised to Noah never to destroy the world again by such a universal destruction till the last and final judgment, it was necessary by degrees to shorten the lives of men, which was the most effectual means to make them more governable, and to remove bad examples out of the world, which would hinder the spreading of the infection, and people and reform the world again by new examples of piety and virtue. For when there are such quick successions of men, there are few ages but have Some great and brave examples, which give a new and better spirit to the world.

Advantages of our being kept in Ignorance of the Time of our Death.

For a conclusion of this argument, I shall briefly vindicate the wisdom and goodness of God in concealing from us the time of our death. This we are very apt to

complain of, that our lives are so very uncertain, that we know not to-day but that we may die to-morrow; and we would be mighty glad to meet with any one who would certainly inform us in this matter how long we are to live. But if we think a little better of it, we shall be of another mind.

For, 1st, Though I presume many of you would be glad to know that you shall certainly live twenty, or thirty, or forty years longer, yet would it be any comfort to know that you must die to-morrow, or some few months, or a year or two hence? which may be your case for aught you know; and this, I believe, you are not very desirous to know; for how would this chill your blood and spirits! How would it overcast all the pleasures and comforts of life! You would spend your days like men under the sentence of death, while the execution is suspended.

Did all men who must die young certainly know it, it would destroy the industry and improvements of half mankind, which would half destroy the world, or be an insupportable mischief to human societies; for what man who knows that he must die at twenty, or five-andtwenty, a little sooner or later, would trouble himself with ingenious or gainful arts, or concern himself any more with this world than just to live so long in it? And yet, how necessary is the service of such men in the world! What great things do they many times do, and what great improvements do they make! How pleasant and diverting is their conversation, while it is innocent. How do they enjoy themselves, and give life and spirit to the graver age. How thin would our schools, our shops, our universities, and all places of education be, did they know how little time many of them were to live in the world. For would such men concern themselves to learn the arts of living, who must die as soon as they have learnt them? Would any father be at a great expense in educating his child, only that he might die with a little Latin and Greek, logick and philosophy? No; half the world must be divided into cloisters and nunneries, and nurseries for the grave.

Well, you'll say, suppose that; and is not this an advantage above all the inconveniences you can think of, to secure the salvation of so many thousands who are now eternally ruined by youthful lusts and vanities, but would spend their days in piety and devotion, and make the next world their only care, if they knew how little while they were to live here?

Right: I grant this might be a good way to correct the heat and extravagances of youth, and so it would be to shew them heaven and hell; but God does not think fit to do either, because it offers too much force and violence to men's minds; it is no trial of their virtue, of their reverence for God, of their conquests and victory over this world by the power of faith, but makes religion a matter of necessity, not of choice: now God will force and drive no man to heaven; the gospel dispensation is the trial and discipline of ingenuous spirits; and if the certain hopes and fears of another world, and the uncertainty of our living here, will not conquer these flattering temptations and make men seriously religious, as those who must certainly die and go into another world, and they know not how soon, God will not try whether the certain knowledge of the time of their death will make them religious. That they may die young, and that thousands do so, is reason enough to engage young men to expect death and prepare for it; if they

will venture, they must take their chance, and not say they had no warning of dying young, if they eternally miscarry by their wilful delays.

And besides this, God expects our youthful service and obedience, though we were to live on till old age; that we may die young is not the proper, much less the only reason why we should remember our Creator in the days of our youth,' but because God has a right to our youthful strength and vigour; and if this will not oblige us to an early piety, we must not expect that God will set death in our view, to fright and terrify us as if the only design God had in requiring our obedience was, not that we might live like reasonable creatures to the glory of their Maker and Redeemer, but that we might repent of our sins time enough to escape hell. God is so merciful as to accept of returning prodigals, but does not think fit to encourage us in sin by giving us notice when we shall die, and when it is time to think of repentance.

2dly, Tho' I doubt not but that it would be a great pleasure to you to know that you should live till old age, yet consider a little with yourselves, and then tell me whether you yourselves can judge it wise and fitting for God to let you know this. I observed to you before what danger there is in flattering ourselves with the hopes of long life; that it is apt to make us too fond of this world, when we expect to live so long in it; that it weakens the hopes and fears of the next world, by removing it at too great a distance from us; that it encourages men to live in sin, because they have time enough before them to indulge their lusts, and to repent of their sins, and make their peace with God before they die; and if the uncertain hopes of this undoes so many men, what would the certain knowledge of it do? Those who are too wise and considerate to be imposed on by such uncertain hopes, might be conquered by the certain knowledge of a long life.

Thomas Sherlock (1678-1761), son of the Dean of St Paul's, was also an eminent preacher and a controversialist theologian. Educated at Eton and St Catharine's Hall, Cambridge, he succeeded his father as Master of the Temple in 1704. In 1715 he became Dean of Chichester, in 1728 Bishop of Bangor, in 1734 of Salisbury, and in 1748 of London. He was a strong Tory, and as such an opponent of his fellow-student Hoadly; he took a very active and conspicuous share in the notorious Bangorian controversy' as a spokesman of the High Church view. He was equally zealous against the Deists, writing against them on The Use of Prophecy (1725) and the famous Trial of the Witnesses of the Resurrection of Jesus (1729). The latter was mainly in answer to the freethinker Thomas Woolston, a Cambridge Fellow who in a series of publications (1722-25) had carried the allegorising of Scripture so far as to deny the historicity of Christ's resurrection, and in 1729 had been condemned to a fine and the imprisonment from which he never emerged for those discourses on The Miracles of our Saviour which in some measure anticipated the mythical theory of Strauss. The Temple Sermons fill four volumes. Sherlock was a good bishop and a kindly man; and some of his works, translated into French, were as much

esteemed by Catholics as Protestants. By some his literary gift was thought superior to his father's; and if his father's style was modern, the son's was more modern still.

From the Trial of the Witnesses.'

We were not long since, some gentlemen of the inns of court, together, each to other so well known that no man's presence was a confinement to any other from speaking his mind on any subject that happened to arise in conversation. The meeting was without design, and the discourse, as in like cases, various. Among other things we fell on the subject of Woolston's trial and conviction, which had happened some few days before: that led to a debate how the law stands in such cases, what punishment it inflicts; and, in general, whether the law ought at all to interpose in controversies of this kind. We were not agreed in these points. One, who maintained the favorable side to Woolston, discovered a great liking and approbation of his discourses against the miracles of Christ, and seemed to think his arguments unanswerable. To which another replied, I wonder that one of your abilities, and bred to the profession of the law, which teaches us to consider the nature of evidence and its proper weight, can be of that opinion; I am sure you would be unwilling to determine a property of five shillings on such evidence as you now think material enough to overthrow the miracles of Christ.

It may easily be imagined that this opened a door to much dispute, and determined the conversation for the remainder of the evening to this subject. The dispute ran through almost all the particulars mentioned in Woolston's pieces; but the thread of it was broken by several digressions, and the pursuit of things which were brought accidentally into the discourse. At length one of the company said, pleasantly, Gentlemen, you do not argue like lawyers; if I were judge in this cause, I would hold you better to the point. The company took the hint, and cried they should be glad to have the cause re-heard, and him to be the judge. The gentlemen who had engaged with mettle and spirit in a dispute which arose accidentally, seemed very unwilling to be drawn into a formal controversy; and especially the gentleman who argued against Woolston thought the matter grew too serious for him, and excused himself from undertaking a controversy in religion, of all others the most momentous; but he was told that the argument should be confined merely to the nature of the evidence, and that might be considered without entering into any such controversy as he would avoid; and to bring the matter within bounds and under one view, the evidence of Christ's resurrection, and the exceptions taken to it, should be the only subject of the conference. With much persuasion he suffered himself to be persuaded, and promised to give the company and their new-made judge a meeting that day fortnight. The judge and the rest of the company were for bringing on the cause a week sooner; but the counsel for Woolston took the matter up, and said, Consider, sir, the gentleman is not to argue out of Littleton, Plowden, or Coke, authors to him well known; but he must have his authorities from Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; and a fortnight is time little enough of all conscience to gain a familiarity with a new acquaintance; and turning to the gentleman, he said, I will call on you before the fortnight is out, to see how

reverend an appearance you make behind Hammond on

the New Testament, a Concordance on one hand and a folio Bible with references on the other. You shall be welcome, sir, replied the gentleman, and perhaps you may find some company more to your own taste; he is but a poor counsel who studies one side of the question only, and therefore I will have your friend Woolston, T-1 [Tindal], and C-s [Collins] to entertain you when you do me the favor of the visit. On this we parted in good humor, and all pleased with the appointment made, except the two gentlemen who were to provide the entertainment.

Second Day.-The company met at the time appointed; but it happened in this, as in like cases it often does, that some friends to some of the company, who were not of the party the first day, had got notice of the meeting; and the gentlemen who were to debate the question found they had a more numerous audience than they expected or desired. He especially who was to maintain the evidence of the resurrection began to excuse the necessity he was under of disappointing their expectation, alleging that he was not prepared; and he had persisted in excusing himself but that the strangers who perceived what the case was offered to withdraw, which the gentleman would by no means consent to: they insisting to go, he said he would much rather submit himself to their candor, unprepared as he was, than be guilty of so much rudeness as to force them to leave the company. On which one of the company smiling said, It happens luckily that our number is increased; when we were last together we appointed a judge, but we quite forgot a jury, and now I think we are good men and true, sufficient to make one. This thought was pursued in several allusions to legal proceedings, which created some mirth and had this good effect that it dispersed the solemn air which the mutual compliments on the difficulty before-mentioned had introduced, and restored the ease and good humour natural to the conversation of gentlemen.

The judge perceiving the disposition of the company, thought it a proper time to begin, and called out, Gentlemen of the jury, take your places; and immediately seated himself at the upper end of the table. The company sat round him, and the judge called on the counsel for Woolston to begin.

Mr A., counsel for Woolston, addressing himself to the judge, said, May it please your lordship, I conceive the gentleman on the other side ought to begin, and lay his evidence which he intends to maintain before the court; till that is done it is to no purpose for me to object. I may perhaps object to something which he will not admit to be any part of his evidence, and therefore, I apprehend, the evidence ought in the first place to be distinctly stated.

Judge. Mr B., what say you to that?

Mr B., counsel on the other side.-My Lord, if the evidence I am to maintain were to support any new claim, if I were to gain any thing which I am not already possessed of, the gentleman would be in the right; but the evidence is old, and is matter of record, and I have been long in possession of all that I claim under it. If the gentleman has any thing to say to dispossess me, let him produce it, otherwise I have no reason to bring my own title into question. And this I take to be the known method of proceeding in such cases; no man is obliged to produce his title to his

possession; it is sufficient if he maintains it when it is called in question.

Mr A.-Surely, my lord, the gentleman mistakes the case. I can never admit myself to be out of possession of my understanding and reason; and since he would put me out of this possession, and compel me to admit things incredible in virtue of the evidence he maintains, he ought to set forth his claim or leave the world to be directed by common sense.

Judge. Sir, you say right; on supposition that the truth of the Christian religion were the point in judgment. In that case it would be necessary to produce the evidence for the Christian religion; but the matter now before the court is whether the objections produced by Mr Woolston are of weight to overthrow the evidence of Christ's resurrection. You see then the evidence of the resurrection is supposed to be what it is on both sides, and the thing immediately in judgment is the value of the objections, and therefore they must be set forth. The court will be bound to take notice of the evidence, which is admitted as a fact on both parts. Go on, Mr A.

Simon Patrick (1626-1707), born at Gainsborough, was educated at Queen's College, Cambridge. There he came under the influence of John Smith, the Cambridge Platonist, then a youthful Fellow, whom he revered till the end of his life. Successively rector of St Paul's, Covent Garden (1662), and Dean of Peterborough (1678), he became Bishop of Chichester (1689) and of Ely (1691). He was a devout and erudite theologian, and a sagacious and catholic Churchman, equally anti-puritan and anti-papal. His sermons, commentaries, and devotional works were long famous; though now they seem prolix enough ; amongst them A Brief Exposition of the Ten Commandments and the Lord's Prayer, The Parable of the Pilgrims, The Heart's Ease, The Christian Sacrifice, and The Devout Christian Instructed. He translated some Latin hymns, and wrote a number of religious poems. An autobiography is included in his works (9 vols. Clar. Press, 1858). In it he tells us that his grandfather was a gentleman of good quality and fair estate, as well as a competent scholar, who had fifteen children, for the younger of whom he could accordingly make but slender provision.

He gave his sons a taste of learning, keeping a schoolmaster in his house to instruct them. My father kept such a tincture of it, that though he was bound apprentice to a mercer, yet he was a great lover of books, and read very much to his dying day. He had a great desire to breed me a scholar, and put me early to a master of great fame, but of no great skill in teaching, as I myself found when I came under the tuition of that worthy man Mr Merryweather, who was an excellent Latinist, as he showed by his translation of Religio Medici. But I ought to acknowledge, what my former master wanted in learning he made up in piety. For he touched my heart betimes by his affectionate discourses upon some part of the Church Catechism, which he

was wont to explain on Saturday in the afternoon; which I cannot think of without thankfulness to God for those discourses. Before which time my mind was prepared to receive those good instructions, by the care of my godly parents in my very childhood; wherein they endeavoured to instil good principles into me: and I can remember many exhortations which my mother upon all occasions made me to be good, and to avoid the sin of lying and such like; which made such an impression upon me, that I cannot remember I ever disobeyed her in the smallest injunction she laid upon me. She was the daughter of an holy minister in Nottinghamshire, and had been bred up by the rules of the Practice of Piety, a book of great note in those days. To those she laboured to conform me, causing me, for instance, to read to her three chapters in the Bible every day; whereby (reading six psalms when I came there) it was read over every year.

My father constantly prayed with his family morning and evening when he was at home, and when he was abroad my mother thought herself obliged to it; and I can never forget with what warmth she commended us all to God. Especially on the Lord's day they were very strict, and ordered things so that every one went to church; and we having no sermon in the afternoon, my father after prayers was wont to read a sermon at home, and sing psalms both after dinner and after we came from church. Sometimes indeed he would go to hear a sermon in the afternoon in a neighbouring town; for which reason he got the name of a Puritan, but very undeservedly, for I remember very well that the sermons he read at home were some of the famous Dr Sanderson's, which he read over and over with high admiration: and he constantly went to the church where the Common Prayer was read (as it was where we lived), a long time after the beginning of our civil wars without any scruple; and at the return of the king immediately attended them again to the end of his days. This I have often reflected upon as an argument of great judgment in my father, that he should make choice of such a volume of sermons to read constantly, and none else but those he heard in the church, which he wrote and would repeat in his family.

of

Being thus educated, I had an early sense religion (blessed be God) imprinted on my mind; which was much increased by my attending to sermons: for having, when I was a school boy, learnt to write in characters, my father required me to take the sermons I heard in that manner, and read them over when I came at home. This, no doubt, fixed my thoughts upon what was delivered, and made me remember it. Insomuch that hearing a rigid sermon about reprobation of the greatest part of mankind, I remember well that when I was a little boy, I resolved if that were true, I would never marry; because most, if not all my children, might be damned.

When I was about twelve years old, I had a most dangerous fever, and there was little hope of my life, when I was extremely troubled that I had neglected often to say my prayers; and I resolved, if God would spare me, to be more careful in time to come, as I think I was. Many other deliverances I had in my very young years, which I shall not here set down, but only mention one which was

very remarkable. When I was about thirteen or fourteen years old, it was thought I might very safely ride alone with my father and mother a small journey. And being set upon a little horse, we went through a gate entering into a large common; this gate being let fall to, gave a great clap, and made such a noise as frightened my horse and made him run away with me. I sat a good while, but at last he threw me, and I fell into a sawpit, which my father and mother feared might prove my grave. But, blessed be God, I was laid there all at length, and taken up without the least hurt. This I have often thought of as a singular providence of God over me, which I now acknowledge with thankfulness to him.

Not long after it was thought I might be fit for the university. But the war between king and parliament breaking out, put by all those thoughts; my father falling into great straits and difficulties. For the town of Gainsborough thought it would be most for their security, if they cast up some works round the town, and got fire arms, and formed themselves into a company of six score men. But they declared neither for king or parliament, intending only to stand upon their guard against rovers. But in a short time the garrison of Newark (which was but seventeen miles from it) sent out a strong party who surrounded the town very early in the morning, and demanded it should be instantly surrendered to the king; which was immediately done without the least resistance or dispute. Whereupon our schoolmaster fled, and left all his scholars to play; till at last a neighbouring minister undertook the charge, who we found did not understand so much as ourselves; and besides, sometimes never came among us for three days together. This made the school break up, and, which was worse, there was a great breach in the town by a new oath that was tendered to them. I do not remember what it was, but only that my father was one that refused to take it: whereupon he was ordered by some furious persons in the committee to leave the town, and not permitted to stay and dispose of his wife and children and goods. He obeyed; but from a neighbouring place sent a petition to be delivered by my mother to the Earl of Kingston, who was the governor of the town. He received her with much humanity, and asked her, among other things, what made her so cheerful in such a distress; for she did not appear before him in tears, but with an humble modest confidence. Το which she replying that she always had a good hope in God, and now expected to find favour with his lordship, he immediately revoked the order of the committee, and gave my father leave to return, and to dispose of his family and affairs before he departed. When he came back, he found a gentleman in town of singular goodness, and a great friend of his, Sir William Pelham of Brocklesby, who very much pitied his condition, and prayed him to leave what money he had with him, and go with his wife and children to his house at Brocklesby, where they should be kindly entertained. This extraordinary kindness he most thankfully embraced, and carried my mother, my younger brother and sister, with his goods, to Sir William's house; but thought fit to go himself with me to Boston, where he had a cousin who received us into his house.

Here I did but lose my time, and therefore my father, who still in his low condition was desirous to make me a scholar, sent me to Hull, where he had a good friend, Mr Foxley, who, with his wife, were as kind to me as to their own children. There I went to school every day with a master who preserved what learning I had, if he did not add unto it. Mr Foxley, who was an wholesale grocer, had such an affection to me, as his wife had also, that he offered to take me his apprentice for nothing, if I would be of his trade. This was a great temptation, he being a great dealer, and a very rich man. But my father was so kind as to leave me to my own choice, and I persisted in my desire to be a scholar, in which Mr Foxley mightily encouraged me, and both he and his wife gave me some pieces of gold, when I went from them to the university: for I had given some proofs of my being religiously inclined, which made them, being pious persons, have a more than ordinary love to me. For instance, when Mr Foxley was gone a journey (who always used to pray with his family before he went to bed) I composed a prayer, about the sixteenth year of my age, and said it in the family without book, during his absence. This was highly acceptable to them, as I hope it was well pleasing to God, who thus early disposed me to his service.

But many things hindered my going to the university; for my father was brought still lower, and disabled to maintain me there as he desired. For the parliament soldiers plundering Sir William Pelham's house, took away my father's goods, which were there with my mother, as well as his. Several other losses befell him, and all the country was so infested with soldiers that it was dangerous to travel. Notwithstanding which, my father adventured to carry me round from Boston to Lynn, and so to Cambridge; whereby we passed without any impediment.

It was in the year 1644, when I was between seventeen and eighteen years old, and had some discretion to govern myself. My father had recommendations to Dr Whichcote and Dr Cudworth, of Emanuel College, who, it was hoped, might take me to be their sizer. For my father was SO mean then, he could not otherwise maintain me. They were both very kind, and being full themselves, recommended us to Queen's College, which was newly filled with fellows from thence. Thither we went, and I was admitted there June 25th of that year, under Mr Wells, who loved me very well, insomuch that he left me the key of his chamber, and of his study, when he was out of town. Here I found myself in a solitary place at first; for though Mr Fuller, in his Church History, was mistaken in saying this college was like a landwrack (as I think his words are), in which there was [not] one left to keep possession, yet there were about a dozen scholars, and almost half of the old fellows: the visitors at first doing no more than putting in a majority of new to govern the college. The others, rarely appearing, were all turned out for refusing the covenant; which was then so zealously pressed, that all scholars were summoned to take it at Trinity College. Thither I went, and had it tendered to me. But God so directed me, that I, telling them my age, was dismissed, and never heard more of it-blessed be God.

I had not been long in the college before the master, Mr Herbert Palmer, took some notice of me, and sent for me to transcribe some things he intended for the press; and soon after made me the college scribe, which brought me in a great deal of money, many leases being to be renewed. It was not long before I had one of the best scholarships in the college bestowed upon me; so that I was advanced to a higher rank, being made a pensioner. But before I was bachelor of arts this good man died, who was of an excellent spirit, and was unwearied in doing good. Though he was a little crooked man, yet he had such an authority, that the fellows reverenced him as much as we did them, going bare when he passed through the court, which after his death was disused.

I remember very well that, being a member of the assembly of divines, he went off to London, and sometimes stayed there a quarter of a year. But before he went, he was wont to cause the bell to be tolled, to summon us all to meet in the hall. There he made a pathetical speech to us, stirring us up to pious diligence in our studies, and told us, with such seriousness as made us believe, he should have as true an account from those he could trust, of the behaviour of every one of us in his absence, as if he were here present with us to observe us himself. This he said we should certainly find true at his return. And truly he was as good as his word; for those youths whom he heard well of, when he came back to college, he sent for to his lodgings, and commended them; giving books to those that were well maintained, and money to the poorer sort. He was succeeded by a good man (Dr Horton), but not such a governor : under whom I was chosen fellow of the college, when I was one year bachelor of arts; before which time I had been so studious as to fill whole books with observations out of various ancient authors, with some of my own which I made upon them. For I find one book begun in the year 1646, wherein I have noted many useful things, and another more large in the year 1647, having the word Eternitas at the top of many pages, by the thought of which I perceive I was quickened to spend my time well. For I have set down what I did every day, and when I took the liberty to recreate myself.

It is a great comfort now in my old age to find that I was so diligent in my youth; for in those books I have noted how I spent my time. What progress I made in 1648 I cannot tell; for I cannot find any book which gives an account of that year; but I have two which relate my improvements in 1649 and the next year, March 21st, 1650, I was admitted master of arts.

Thomas Ken (1637-1711), the saintly Nonjuring bishop, was a native of Little Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire, and was educated at Winchester and at Hart Hall and New College, Oxford. He held in succession, between 1663 and 1672, livings in Essex, the Isle of Wight, and Hants; but having been elected a Fellow of Winchester College, resided in Winchester till 1679. In 1667 he obtained from Morley, Bishop of Winchester, the living of Brixton, where he wrote his famous morning, evening, and midnight hymns, which he sang daily to his own accompaniment