"HIGH ERCALL (or ERCALL MAGNA), a parish in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South, a vicarage discharged, in the diocese of Coventry and Lichfield, the deanery of Salop, and archdeaconry of Salop. 341 houses, 1,952 inhabitants. 8 miles northeast of Shrewsbury.. See appendix.
" COLD HATTON, a township in the parish of High Ercall, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 8 miles west of Newport."
" COTWALL, a township in the parish of High Ercall, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 9 miles north-east of Shrewsbury."
" CRUDGINGTON, a township in the parish of High Ercall, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 10½ miles north-east of Shrewsbury."
" ELLERDINE, a township in the parish of Ercall Magna orHigh Ercall, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 9 miles south-east of Wem."
" HAUGHTON, a township partly in the parish of High Ercall, and partly in the parish of Upton Magna, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 4½ miles north east of Shrewsbury."
" ISOM BRIDGE, a township in the parish of Ercall Magna, or High Ercall, and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford North. 7½ miles north-east by east of Shrewsbury."
" POYNTON, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South."
" PULESTONE, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Drayton division of the hundred of Bradford North."
" RODEN (or RODENHURST), a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 6 miles north-east of Shrewsbury.
" ROWTON, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South, a chapel, in the diocese of Coventry and Lichfield, the deanery of Salop, and archdeaconry of Salop. 9 miles north-east of Shrewsbury.
RICHARD BAXTER, a very eminent Divine amongst the Nonconformists in the last century, was born at Rowton, November 12th, 1615. His father was a freeholder; an honest, and religious man, but his estate was very inconsiderable. His mother was of the same county, the daughter of Mr. Richard Adeney.
At Rowton he spent his infancy, in which he is said to have given strong indications of that piety and purity which appeared in his subsequent life and conversation. In 1625, he was taken from his grandfather's house, where be had hitherto lived, and brought home to his father's at Eaton-Constantine, a village within five miles of Shrewsbury, where he passed the remainder of his childhood. He was far from being happy in respect to his school-masters, who were men no way distinguished either for learning or morals, and missed the advantages of an academical education, through a proposal made to his parents of placing him with Mr. Richard Wickstead, Chaplain to the Council at Ludlow. The only advantage he reaped there was the use of an excellent library, which, by his own great application, proved of infinite service to him. In this situation he remained about a year and half, and then returned to his father's. At the request of Lord Newport be went thence to Wroxeter, where he taught in the free- school for six months, while his old schoolmaster Mr. John Owen lay in a languishing condition. In 1633 Mr. Wickstead prevailed on him to waive the studies in which he was then engaged, and to think of making his fortune at court. He accordingly came up to Whitehall with a recommendation to Sir Henry Herbert, then Master of the Revels, by whom he was very kindly received. But after a month's stay, discovering no charms in this sort of life, and having besides a very strong inclination to undertake the ministerial function, he returned to his father's, and resumed his studies with fresh vigour, till Mr. Richard Foley, of Stourbridge, fixed him as master of the free school at Dudley, with an usher under him. While be taught school there, he read several practical treatises, by which he was brought to a deep sense of religion, his progress being not a little quickened by his great bodily weakness and ill state of health, which inclined him to think he should hardly survive above a year. However, having still an earnest desire to engage in the ministry, he in 1688 addressed himself to Dr. Thornborough, bishop of Worcester, for holy orders, which, after examination, he received, having at that time no scruples of conscience which hindered him from conforming to the Church of England.
Being settled at Dudley, he preached frequently in that town, and in the neighbouring villages, with the approbation of all his hearers. In three quarters of a year he was removed to Bridgnorth, where he officiated as assistant to Mr. William Madstard, then minister of that place, who treated him with great kindness and respect, and did not put him upon many things which he then began to scruple doing.
When the et cetera oath came to be imposed, Mr. Baxter applied himself diligently to study the case of Episcopacy, and it fared with him as with some others; the thing which was intended to fix them to the Hierarchy, drove them into a dislike of it. In the year 1640 he was invited to Kidderminster by the bailif and feoffees, to preach there for an allowance of sixty pounds a year, which he accepted; and applied himself with such diligence to his sacred calling, as had a very great effect in a short time upon a very dissolute people. He continued there about two years before the civil war broke out, and fourteen afterwards, with some interruption. He sided with the Parliament, and recommended the Protestation they directed to be taken, to the people. This exposed him to some inconveniences, which obliged him to retire to Gloucester, but he was soon invited back to Kidderminster whither be returned. His stay there was not long; but beginning to consider within himself where he might remain in safety, he fixed upon Coventry, and accordingly went there. There he lived peaceably and comfortably, preached once every Lord's day to the garrison and once to the town's people, for which he took nothing but his diet, though besides thus exercising his function, he did great service in repressing the Ana-baptists. After the battle of Naseby, when all things seemed to favour the Parliament, he, by advice of the Ministers at Coventry, became Chaplain to Colonel Whalley's regiment, and in this quality he was present at several sieges, but never in any engagement; so that there was not the least ground for that scandalous story invented and circulated by his enemies, viz., that he killed a man in cool blood, and robbed him of a medal. He took all imaginable pains to hinder the progress of the Sectaries, and to keep men firm in just and rational notions of religion and government, never deviating from what he judged in his conscience to be right, for the sake of making court to any, or from baser motives of fear. But he was separated from the army in the beginning of the year 1674, at a very critical juncture, on their quarrel with the Parliament; Mr. Baxter being at that time seized with a bleeding at the nose in so violent a manner, that he lost the quantity of a gallon at once, which obliged him to retire to Sir Thomas Rouse's where be continued for a long time in a very languishing state of health, which hindered him from doing that service to bis country, which otherwise, from a man of his principles and moderation, might have been expected.
He afterwards returned to Kidderminster, and resumed the work of the ministry. He hindered, as far as it was in his power, the taking of the Covenant; he preached and spoke publickly against the engagement; and therefore it is very unjust to brand him, as some have done, as a trumpeter of rebellion. When the army was marching to oppose King Charles II. at the head of the Scots, Mr. Baxter took pains, both by speaking and writing, to remind the soldiers of their duty, and to dissuade them from fighting against their brethren and fellow subjects. After this, when Cromwell assumed the supreme power, he was not afraid to express his dissatisfaction at his tyranny, though he did not think himself obliged to preach politicks from the pulpit. Once indeed he preached before Cromwell; but neither did he in that sermon flatter him, nor, in a conference which he had with him afterwards, express either affection to his person, or submission to his power; but quite the contrary. He came to London a little before the deposition of Richard Cromwell. At that time Mr. Baxter was looked upon as a friend to monarchy, and with reason; for being chosen to preach before the parliament, on the 30th of April, 1660, which was the day preceding that on which they voted the King's return, he maintained, that loyalty to their Prince, was a thing essential to all true protestants, of whatever persuasion. About the same time, likewise, he was chosen to preach a thanksgiving sermon at St. Paul's, for General Monk's success; and yet some have been so bold as to maintain that he attempted to dissuade his Excellency from concurring in, or rather from bringing about, that happy change. After the Restoration he became one of the King's Chaplains in ordinary, preached before him once, had frequent access to his Royal person, and was always treated by him with peculiar respect. At the Savoy conferences, Mr. Baxter assisted as one of the Commissioners, and then drew up the Reformed Liturgy, which all who are competent judges allow to be an excellent performance. He was offered the bishoprick of Hereford, by the Lord Chancellor, Clarendon, which he refused to accept, for reasons which be rendered in a respectful letter to his Lordship. Yet even then he would willingly have returned to his beloved town of Kidderminster, and have preached there in the low state of a Curate. But even this was refused him, though the Lord Chancellor took pains to have settled him there as he desired. When he found himself thus disappointed, he preached occasionally about the city of London, sometimes for Dr, Bates, at St. Dunstan's in the West, and sometimes in other places, having a license from Bishop Sheldon, upon his subscribing a promise, not to preach any thing against the doctrine or ceremonies of the Church. The last time he preached in publick was on the 15th of May, 1662, a farewell sermon at Black Friars. He afterwards retired to Acton, in Middlesex, where he went every Lord's day to the publick church, and spent the rest of the day with his family, and a few poor neighbours that came in to him.
In 1665, when the plague raged, he went to Richard Hampden's, Esq., in Buckinghamshire, and returned to Acton when it was over. He staid there as long as the act against conventicles continued in force, and when that was expired, he had so many auditors that he wanted room. Hereupon, by a warrant signed hy two justices, he was committed for sit months to New-prison jail, but got an Habeas Corpus, and was released and removed to Totteridge near Barnet. At this place he lived quietly and without disturbance, but not without many marks of Royal favour. The King was resolved to make some concessions to the Dissenters in Scotland, and the Duke of Lauderdale, by his order, acquainted Mr. Baxter, that if he would take this opportunity of going into that kingdom, he should have what preferment he would there; which he declined on account of his own weakness and the circumstances of his family. His opinion, however, was taken on the scheme for settling Church disputes in that country.
In 1671, Mr. Baxter lost the greatest part of his fortune by the shutting up of the King's Exchequer, in which he had a thousand pounds. After the indulgence in 1672, he returned into the city, and was one of the Tuesday lecturers at Pinners' Hall. He had a Friday lecture at Fetter Lane, but on the Lord's days he for some time preached only occasionally; and afterwards more statedly in St. James's market-house, where in 1674 he had a wonderful deliverance, by almost a miracle, from a crack in the floor. He was apprehended as he was preaching his lecture at Mr. Turner's, but soon released, because the warrant was not, as it ought to have been, signed by a city justice. The times seeming to grow more favourable, he built a meeting-house in Oxenden Street, where he preached but once, before a resolution was taken to surprise and send him to the county jail on the Oxford Act, which misfortune he luckily escaped; but the person who preached for him was committed to the Gatehouse, and continued there three months. Having been kept out of his new meetinghouse a whole year; he took another in Swallow Street, but was likewise prevented from using that, a guard being fixed there for many Sundays together, to hinder him from coming into it. On Mr. Wadsworth's death, Mr. Baxter preached to his congregation in Southwark for many months. When Dr. Lloyd succeeded Dr. Lamplugh in St. Martin's parish, Mr. Baxter made him an offer of the chapel he had built in Oxenden Street, for publick worship, which was very kindly accepted.
In 1682, he suffered more severely than he had ever done on account of his non-conformity. One day he was suddenly surprised in his house by many constables and officers, who apprehended him upon a warrant to seize his person, for coming within five miles of a corporation; producing at the same time, five more warrants, to distrain for one hundred and ninety-five pounds for five sermons. Though he was much out of order, being but just risen from his bed, where he bad been in extremity of pain, he was contentedly going with them to a Justice, to be sent to jail, and left his house to their will. But Dr. Thomas Cox meeting him as he was going, forced him again into his bed, and he went to five Justices and took his oath, that he could not go to prison without danger of death. Upon this the Justices delayed till they had consulted the King, who consented that his imprisonment should he for that time forborne, that he might die at home. But they executed their warrants on the books and goods in the house, though he made it appear they were none of his; and they sold even the bed upon which he lay sick. Some friends laid down as much money as they were appraised at, and he repaid them. And all this was without Mr. Baxter's having the least notice of any accusation, or receiving any summons to appear and answer for himself, or even seeing the Justices or accusers; he was afterwards in constant danger of new seizures, and accordingly was obliged to leave his house, and retire into private lodgings.
Things continued much in the same way during the year 1688, and Mr. Baxter remained in great obscurity; however, not without receiving a remarkable testimony of the sincere esteem and great confidence which a person of remarkable piety, though of another persuasion, had towards him: The Rev. Mr. Thomas Mayor, a beneficed clergyman in the Church of England, who had devoted his estate to charitable uses, gave by his last will £600 to be distributed by Mr. Baxter to sixty poor ejected ministers; adding, that he did it not because they were Nonconformists, but because many such were poor and pious. But the King's Attorney, Sir Robert Sawyer, sued for it in Chancery, and the Lord-Keeper North gave it all to the King. It was paid into the Chancery by order, and, as Providence directed it, there kept safe, till, King William the Third ascended the throne, when the Commissioners of the Great Seal restored it to the use for which it was intended by the deceased; and Mr. Baxter disposed of it accordingly. In the following year, 1684, Mr. Baxter fell into a very bad state of health, so as to be scarcely able to stand. He was in this condition, when the Justices of the Peace for the county of Middlesex granted a warrant against him, in order to his being bound to his good behaviour. They got into his house, but could not immediately get at him, Mr. Baxter being in his study, and their warrant not empowering them to break open doors. Six constables, however, were set to hinder him from getting to his bed chamber, and so by keeping him from food or sleep, they carried their point, and took him away to the Sessions house, where he was bound in the penalty of four hundred pounds to keep the peace, and was brought up twice afterwards, though he kept his bed the greatest part of the time. In the beginning of the year 1685, Mr. Baxter was committed to the King's Bench prison, by a warrant from the Lord Chief Justice Jefferies, for his paraphrase on the New Testament, and tried on the 30th of May of the same year in the court of King's Bench, and found guilty, and on the 29th of June following received a very severe sentence. In 1686, the King, by the mediation of Lord Powis, granted him a pardon; and, on the 24th of November, he was discharged out of the King's Bench. Sureties, however, were required for his good behaviour; but it was entered on his bail-piece, by direction of King James, that his remaining in London, contrary to the Oxford Act, should not be taken as a breach of the peace. After this he retired to a house he took in Charter house yard, contenting himself with the exercise of his ministry, as assistant to Mr. Sylvester; and though no man was better qualified than he, for managing the publick affairs of his party, yet he never meddled with them, nor had the least to do with those addresses which were presented by some of that body to King James II. on his indulgence. After his settlement in Charter house yard, he continued about four years and a half in the exercise of publick duties, till he became so exceedingly weak as to be forced to keep his chamber. Even then he ceased not to do good, so far as it was in his power; and as he spent his life in painful labours so to the last moment of it he directed his christian brethren, by the light of a good example. He departed this life December 8, 1691. A few days after, his corpse was interred in Christ church, being attended to the grave by a large company of all ranks and qualities, and amongst them not a few of the established church, who very prudently paid this last tribute of respect to the memory of a great and good man, whose labours deserved much from true christians of all denominations.
He was a man, to speak impartially from the consideration of his writings, who had as strong a head, and as sound a heart, as any of the age in which he lived. He was too conscientious to comply from temporal motives, and his charity was too extensive to think of recommending himself to popular applause by a rigid behaviour. These sentiments produced such a practice as inclined some to believe he had a religion of his own, which was the reason that when Sir John Gayer bequeathed a legacy by will to men of moderate notions, he could think of no better expression than this, 'that they should be of Mr. Baxter's religion.' We need not wonder that a person so little addicted to any party should experience the bitterness of all; and, in truth, no man was ever more severely treated in this respect than Mr. Baxter, against whom more books were written, than against any man in the age in which he lived. His friends, however, were such, that the bare repetition of their names might well pass for a panegyrick; since it is impossible they could have lived in terms of strict intimacy with any other than a wise and upright man. But the best testimony of Mr. Baxter's worth may be drawn from his own writings, of which he left behind him a very large number. Many indeed have censured them, though it is certain that some of his books met with as general a reception as any that ever were printed; and the judicious Dr. Barrow, whose opinion all competent judges will admit, gave this judgment upon them, that his practical writings went never mended, his controversial seldom confuted.
As Mr. Baxter was, in several respects, one of the most eminent persons of his time, a few farther particulars concerning him may not be unacceptable to many of our readers. He appears, as has been already intimated, to have been unhappy in his education, with regard both to learning and piety; his schoolmasters being ignorant and immoral. For want of better instructors, he fell into the hands of the readers of the villages in which he lived. And though he had not afterwards the advantages of an academical education, yet, by his own application, he made an extraordinary progress in the study of divinity, as well as in other branches of knowledge. When he was prevailed upon for a short time to quit his studies, and to repair to court, it seems to have been with much reluctance on his part. But he soon returned again to his books, and entered into holy orders, though he afterwards condemned himself for having been too precipitate, in complying with the terms of subscription. It was not till the imposition of what was called the et cetera oath, that he entered into a thorough examination of the points in controversy between the conformists and nonconformists; but, independently of all controversy, he was always a zealous advocate of solid and practical religion; and, while he preached at Kidderminster, as he was indefatigable in discharging the duties of the pastoral office, so he met with great and extraordinary success. After the Restoration, he expressed his sentiments to King Charles the second, with the same freedom as he had before used with the protector Cromwell. He strongly represented to his Majesty, the great importance of tolerating those pious persons, who entertained doubts concerning the ceremonies or discipline of the church; and he observed that the late usurpers had so well understood their own interest, that they had found ' the way of doing good' to be the most effectual means to promote it; and, therefore, he besought the King, that 'he would never suffer himself to be tempted to undo the good which Cromwell or any other had done, because they were usurpers that did it;' and on the contrary, ' that he would rather outgo them in doing good.'
The integrity of Mr, Baxter was unquestionable: and it should not be forgotten, that though he refused a bishoprick, yet he was desirous of preaching at Kidderminster for nothing; but his request was not granted. He may be considered as a striking example of the powerful effects of temperance and industry; for notwithstanding a constitution extremely weak and tender, and various disorders, he went through a most extraordinary degree of labour, both as a preacher and a writer. His works are extremely voluminous; and they have been held by good judges in very high estimation. Dr. Barrow's opinion of them has already been given; and the late Dr. Philip Doddridge, in a letter written to a friend in 1723, giving some account of his studies, expresses himself thus: ' Baxter is my particular favourite. It is impossihle to tell how much I am charmed with the devotion, good sense, and pathos, which is every where to be found in him. I cannot forbear looking upon him as one of the greatest orators, both with regard to copiousness, acuteness, and energy, that our nation hath produced: and if he hath described, as I believe, the temper of his own heart, he appears to have been so far superior to the generality of those whom we charitably hope to be good men, that one would imagine that God had raised him up to disgrace and condemn his brethren; to show what a Christian is, and how few in the world deserve the character.' Dr. Bates, in his sermon preached upon occasion of our author's death, mentions it as a saying of Bishop Wilkins, that ' if Mr. Baxter had lived in the primitive times, he had been one of the Fathers of the Church.' Bishop Burnet says, that Mr. Baxter was ' a man of great piety, and, if he had not meddled in too many things, would have been esteemed one of the learned men of the age.- He had a very moving and pathetick way of writing, and was the whole of his life a man of great zeal and much simplicity; but was most unhappily subtle and metaphysical in every thing. There was great submission paid to him by the whole party.'
Mr. Granger's character of him is too striking to be omitted. ' Richard Baxter was a man famous for weakness of body and strength of mind; for having the strongest sense of religion himself, and exciting a sense of it in the thoughtless and profligate; for preaching more sermons, engaging in more controversies, and writing more books, than any other nonconformist of his age. He spoke, disputed, and wrote with ease; and discovered the same intrepidity, when he reproved Cromwell, and expostulated with Charles II., as when he preached to a congregation of mechanicks. His zeal for religion was extraordinary, but it seems never to have prompted him to faction, or carried him to enthusiasm. This champion of the Presbyterians was the common butt of men of every other religion, and of those who were of no religion at all. But this had very little effect upon him: his presence and his firmness of mind on no occasion forsook him. He was just the same man before he went into a prison, while he was in it, and when he came out of it; and he maintained a uniformity of character to the last gasp of his life. His enemies have placed him in hell: but every man who has not ten times the bigotry that Mr. Baxter himself had, must conclude that he is in a better place. This is a very imperfect sketch of Mr. Baxter's character: men of his size are not to be drawn in miniature. His portrait, in full proportion, is in his Narrative of his own Life and Times; which though a rhapsody, composed in the manner of a diary, contains a great variety of memorable things, and is itself, as far as it goes, a History of Nonconformity.'
In 1662, Mr. Baxter was married to Margaret Charleton, daughter of Francis Charleton, Esq., of the county of Salop, who was esteemed one of the best Justices of the Peace, in that county. She was a woman of great piety, and entered thoroughly into her husband's views concerning religion. His refusal of a bishoprick was before their marriage; but his conduct on that occasion she entirely approved. She cheerfully accompanied her husband to prison, and in all the inconveniences and sufferings which were brought on him by the intolerance of the times. Her general conduct was exemplary, and she was uncommonly liberal to the poor. She died in a house of Mr. Baxter's in Southampton-square, London, 1681, and was buried in Christ Church.
Among the voluminous and valuable writings of Mr. Baxter, is a very interesting Narrative of the most memorable Passages of his Life and Times, from the conclusion of the first part of which work, the following review and censure of his own character is taken.
' The temper of my mind hath somewhat altered with the temper of my body. When I was young, I was more vigorous, affectionate, and fervent in preaching, conference and prayer, than (ordinarily) I can be now; my stile was more extemporate and lax, but by the advantage of affection, and a very familiar moving voice and utterance, my preaching then did more affect the auditory, than many of the last years before I gave over preaching; but yet what I delivered was more raw, and had more passages that would not bear the trial of accurate judgments; and my discourses had both less substance and less judgment than of late.
My understanding was then quicker, and could easilier manage any thing that was newly presented to it on a sudden; but it is since better furnished, and acquainted with the ways of truth and error, and with a multitude of particular mistakes of the world, which then I was the more in danger of, because I had only the faculty of knowing them, but did not actually know them. I was then like a man of a quick understanding that was to travel a way which he never went before, or to cast up an account which be never laboured in before, or to play on an instrument of musick which be never saw before: and I am now like one of somewhat a slower understanding (by that praematura senecus which weakness and excessive bleedings brought me to) who is travelling a way which he hath often gone, and is casting up an account which he hath often cast up, and hath ready at hand, and that is playing on an instrument which he hath often played on: so that I can very confidently say, that my judgment is much sounder and firmer now than it was then; for though I am not now as competent a judge of the acting of my own understanding as then, yet I can judge of the effects: and when I peruse the writings which I wrote in my younger years, I can find the footsteps of my unfurnished mind, and of my emptiness and insufficiency: so that the man who followed my judgment then, was likelier to have been misled by me, than he that should follow it now.
There is another thing which I am changed in; that whereas in my younger days I never was tempted to doubt of the truth of scripture or christianity, but all my doubts and fears were exercised at home, about my own sincerity and interest in Christ, and this was it which I called unbelief; since then my sorest assaults have been on the other side, and such they were, that had I been void of internal experience, and the adhesion of love, and the special help of God, and had not discerned more reason for my religion than I did when I was younger, I had certainly apostatised to infidelity, (though for atheism and ungodliness, my reason seeth no stronger arguments, than may be brought to prove that there is no earth or air, or sun). I am now therefore much more apprehensive than heretofore, of the necessity of well-grounding men in their religion, and especially of the witness of the indwelling Spirit; for I more sensibly perceive that the Spirit is the great witness of Christ and christianity to the world. And though the folly of fanaticks tempted me long to overlook the strength of this testimony of the Spirit, while they placed it in a certain internal affection, or enthusiastick inspiration; yet now I see that the Holy Ghost in another manner is the witness of Christ and his agent in the world. The Spirit in the prophets was his first witness; and the Spirit by miracles was the second; and the Spirit by renovation, sanctification, illumination, and consolation, assimilating the soul to Christ and heaven, is the continued witness to all true believers: and if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, the same is none of his, (Rom. 8. 9.) Even as the rational soul in the child is the inherent witness or evidence, that he is the child of rational parents. And therefore ungodly persons have a great disadvantage in their resisting temptations to unbelief, and it is no wonder if Christ be a stumbling block to the Jews, and to the Gentiles foolishness.
There is many a one that hideth his temptations to infidelity because he thinketh it a shame to open them, and because it may generate doubts in others; but I doubt the imperfections of most men's care of their salvation, and of their diligence and resolution in a holy life, doth come from the imperfection of their belief of christianity and the life to come. For my part I must profess, that when my belief of things eternal and of the scripture is most clear and firm, all goeth accordingly in my soul, and all temptations to sinful compliances, worldliness, or flesh pleasing, do signify worse to me, than an invitation to the stocks or Bedlam. And no petition seemeth more necessary to me, than Lord increase our faith: I believe, help thou my unbelief
In my younger years my trouble for sin was most about my actual failings in thought, word, or action, (except hardness of heart, of which more anon). But now I am much more troubled for inward defects, and omission or want of the vital duties or graces in the soul. My daily trouble is so much for my ignorance of God, and weakness of belief, and want of greater love to God, and strangeness to him, and to the life to come, and for want of greater willingness to die, and longing to be with God in heaven, as that I take not some immoralities, though very great, to be in themselves so great and odious sins, if they could be found as separate from these. Had I all the riches of the world, how gladly should I give them for a fuller knowledge, belief, and love of God and everlasting glory ! these wants are the greatest burden of my life, which oft maketh my life itself a burden. And I cannot find any hope of reaching so high in these, while I am in the flesh, as I once hoped before this time to have attained: which maketh me the wearier of this sinful world, which is honoured with so little of the knowledge of God.
Heretofore I placed much of my religion in tenderness of heart, and grieving for sin, and penitential team; and less of it, in the love of God, and studying his love and goodness, and in his joyful praises, than now I do. Then I was little sensible of the greatness and excellency of love and praise; though I coldly spake the same words in its commendations, as now I do; and now I am less troubled for want of grief and tears (though I more value humility, and refuse not needful humiliation:) but my conscience now looketh at love and delight in God, and praising him, as the top of all my religious duties, for which it is that I value and use the rest.
My judgment is much more for frequent and serious meditation on the heavenly blessedness, than it was heretofore in my younger days. I then thought that a sermon of the attributes of God, and the joys of heaven were not the most excellent; and was wont to say, ' Every body knoweth this, that God is great and good, and that heaven is a blessed place; I had rather hear how I may attain it.' And nothing pleased me so well as the doctrine of regeneration, and the marks of sincerity; which was because it was suitable to me in that state: but now I had rather read, hear, or meditate, on God and heaven, than on any other subject: for I perceive that is the object that altereth and elevateth the mind; which will be such as that is, which it most frequently feedeth on: and that it is not only useful to our comfort, to be much in heaven in our believing thoughts: hut that it must animate all our other duties, and fortify us against every temptation and sin; and that the love of the end is it that is the poise or spring, which setteth every wheel a going, and must put us on to all the means: and that a man is no more a christian indeed than he is heavenly.
I was once wont to meditate most on my own heart, and to dwell all at home, and look little higher: I was still poring either on my sins or wants, or examining my sincerity; but now, though I am greatly convinced of the need of heart- acquaintance and employment, yet I see more need of a higher work; and that I should look oftener upon Christ, and God, and Heaven, than upon my own heart. At home I can find distempers to trouble me, and some evidences of my peace: but it is above, that I must find matter of delight and joy, and love and peace itself. Therefore I would have one thought at home upon myself and sins, and many thoughts above upon the high and amiable and beatifying objects.
I now see more good and more evil in all men than heretofore I did. I see that good men are not so good as I once thought they were, but have more imperfections: and that nearer approach and fuller trial, doth make the beat appear more weak and faulty, than their admirers at a distance think. And I find that few are so bad, as either malicious enemies, or censorious separating professors do imagine. In some indeed I find that human nature is corrupted into a greater likeness to devils, than I once thought any on earth had been. But even in the wicked usually there is more for grace to make advantage of, and more to testify for God and-holiness, than I once believed there had been.
I less admire gifts of utterance and bare profession of religion than I once did; and have much more charity for many, who by the want of gifts, do make an obscurer profession than they. I once thought that almost all that could pray movingly and fl uently, and talk well of religion, had been saints. But experience hath opened to me, what odious crimes may consist with high profession; and I have met with divers obscure persons, not noted for any extraordinary profession, or forwardness in religion, but only to live a quiet blameless life, whom I have after found to have long lived, as far as I could discern, a truly godly and sanctified life; only their prayers and duties were by accident kept secret from other men's observation. Yet he that upon this pretence would confound the godly and the ungodly, may as well go about to lay heaven and hell together.
My soul is much more afflicted with the thoughts of the miserable world, and more drawn out in desire of their conversion than heretofore. I was wont to look but little farther than England in my prayers, as not considering the state of the rest of the world: or if I prayed for the conversion of the Jews, that was almost all. But now as I better understand the case of the world, and the method of the Lord's prayer, so there is nothing in the world that Beth so heavy upon my heart, as the thought of the miserable nations of the earth. It is the most astonishing part of all God's providence to me, that be so far forsaketh almost all the world, and confineth his special favour to so few: that so small a part of the world hath the profession of christianity, in comparison of heathens, mahometans and other infidels! And that among professed christians there are so few that are saved from gross delusions, and have but any competent knowledge: and that among those there are so few that are seriously religious, and truly set their hearts on heaven. I cannot be affected so much with the calamities, of my own relations, or the land of my nativity, as with the case, of the heathen, mahometan and ignorant nations of the earth. No part of my prayers are so deeply serious, as that for the infidel and ungodly world, that God's name may be sanctified and his kingdom conic, and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven: nor was I ever before so sensible what a plague the division of languages was which hindereth our speaking to them for their conversion; not what a great sin tyranny is, which keepeth out the gospel from most of the nations of the world. Could we but go among Tartarians, Turks and Heathens, and speak their language, I should be but little troubled for the silencing of eighteen hundred ministers at once in England, nor for all the rest that were cast out here, and in Scotland and Ireland; there being no employment in the world so desirable in my eyes, as to labour for the winning of such miserable souls: which maketh me greatly honour Mr. John Eliot, the Apostle of the Indians in New-England, and whoever else have laboured in such work.
Yet am I not so much inclined to pass a peremptory sentence of damnation upon all that never heard of Christ; having some more reason than I knew of before, to think that God's dealing with such is much unknown to us! And that the ungodly here among us Christians are in a far worse case than they.
I am much less regardful of the approbation of man, and set much lighter by contempt or applause, than I did long ago. I am oft suspicious that this is not only from the increase of self.denial and humility; but partly from my being glutted and surfeited with human applause: and all worldly things appear most vain and unsatisfactory when we have tried them most. But though I feel that this hath some hand in the effect, yet as far as I can perceive, the knowledge of man's nothingness, and God's transcendent greatness, with whom it is that I have most to do, and the sense of the brevity of human things, and the nearness of eternity, are the principal causes of this effect; which some have imputed to self- conceitedness and morosity.
I am more and more pleased with a solitary life; and though in a way of self denial I could submit to the most publick life, for the service of God, when he required it, and would not be unprofitable that I might be private; yet I must confess, it is much more pleasing to myself, to be retired from the world, and to have very little to do with men, and to converse with God and conscience and good books; of which I have spoken my heart in my Divine Lift, part iii.
Though I was never much tempted to the sin of covetousness, yet my fear of dying was wont to tell me, that I was not sufficiently loosened from this world. But I find that it is comparatively very easy to me to be loose from this world, but hard to live by faith above. To despise earth is easy to me; but not so easy to be acquainted and conversant is heaven. I have nothing in this world which I could not easily let go; but to get satisfying apprehensions of the other world is the great and grievous difficulty.
I am much more apprehensive than long ago, of the odiousness and danger of the sin of pride; scarce any sin appeareth more pdious to me. Having daily more acquaint. ance with the lamentable naughtiness and frailty of man, and of the mischiefs of that sin; and especially in matters spiritual and ecclesiastical, I think so far as any man is proud he is kin to the Devil, and utterly a stranger to God and to himself. It is a wonder that it should be a possible sin, to men that still carry about with them, in soul and body, such humbling matter of remedy as we all do.
I more than ever lament the unhappiness of the nobility, gentry, and great ones of the world, who live in such temptation to sensuality, curiosity and wasting of their time about a multitude of little things; and whose lives are too often the transcript of the sins of Sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness, and want of compassion to the poor. And I more value the life of the poor labouring man; but especially of him that bath neither poverty nor riches.
I am much more sensible than heretofore, of the breadth, and length, and depth of the radical, universal sin of selfishness, and therefore have written so much against it: and of the excellency and necessity of self-denial, and of a publick mind, and of loving our neighbour as ourielves.
But having mentioned the changes which I think were for the better, I must add, that as I confessed many of my sins before, so since I have been guilty of many, which because materially they seemed small, have had the less resistance, and yet on the review de trouble me more than if they had been greater, done in ignorance. It can be no small thing formerly which is committed against knowledge and conscience and deliberation, whatever excuse it have. To have sinned while I preached and wrote against sin, and had such abundant and great obligations from God, and made so many promises against it, doth lay me very low: not so much in fear of hell, as in great displeasure against myself, and such self-abhorrence as would cause revenge upon myself, were it not forbidden. When God forgiveth me I cannot forgive myself; especially for any rash words or deeds, by which I have seemed injurious, and less tender and kind, than I should have been to my near and dear relations, whose love abundantly obliged me. When such are dead, though we never differed in points of interest, on any great matter, every sour or cross, provoking word which I gave them, maketh me almost unreconcileable to myself; and tells me how repentance brought some of old, to pray to the dead whom they had wronged, to forgive them, in the hurry of their passion.
I am less for a disputing way than ever; believing that it tempted' men to bend their wits to defend their errors, and oppose the truth, and hindereth usually their information. And the servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle to all men, &c. therefore I am most in judgment for a learning or a teaching way of converse. In all companies I will be glad, either to hear those speak that can teach me, or to be heard of those who need to learn.
I have lost much of that zeal which I had, to propagate any truths to others, save the mere fundamentals. When I perceive people or ministers, which is too common, to think they know what indeed they do not, and to dispute those things which they never thoroughly studied, or expect I should debate the case with them, as if an hour's talk would serve instead of an acute understanding, and seven years' study, I have no zeal to make them of my opinion, but an impatience of continuing discourse with them on such subjects, and am apt to be silent, or tarn to something else: which, (though there be some reason for it), I feel cometh from a want of zeal for the truth, and from an impatient temper of mind. I am ready to think that people should quickly understand all in a few words, and if they cannot, lazily to despair of them, and leave them to themselves. And I the more know that it is sinful in me; because it is partly so in other things; even about the faults of my servants or other inferiors, if three or four times warning do no good on them, I am much tempted to despair of them, and turn them away, and leave them to themselves.
I mention all these distempers, that my faults may be a warning to others to take heed, as they call on myself for repentance and watchfulness. O Lord, for the merits and sacrifice and intercession of Christ, be merciful to me a sinner, and forgive my known and unknown sins ! '"
" SLEAP, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South. 8 miles south-west by west of Newport."
" TERN, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South."
" WALTON, a township in the parish of High Ercall (or Ercall Magna), and in the Wellington division of the hundred of Bradford South."
[Transcribed information from A Gazetteer of Shropshire - T Gregory - 1824](unless otherwise stated)
[Description(s) transcribed by Mel Lockie ©2015]
