tihvary of t:he theological ^mimvy PRINCETON . NEW JERSEY PRESENTED BY :.state of V/illian Anderson McDowell BX.5255 .L42 1832 Leighton, Robert, 1611-1684. The select works of Archbishop Leighton Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/selectworksofarcOOIeig I J'eniHrti'ns LiHu'O' Ardibisliop oi' Glasgovr. THE SELECT WORKS OF ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. PREPARED FOR THE PRACTICAL USE OF PRIVATE CHRISTIANS. WITH AN Jntrotuctorj Ufeto OF THE LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS OF THE AUTHOR. BY GEORGE B. CHEEVER. BOSTON: PUBLISHED BY PEIRCE & PARKER, No. 9, Cornhill. NEW-YORK : H. C. SLEIGHT. PHILADELPHIA : TOWAR, J. & D. M. HOOAN. 1832. Entered, accordin:^ to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, by Peirce and Parker, iu the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusells. PRESS OF I'EIRCE & PARKER. PREFACE. The design of this volume is to bring within the reach of pri- vate Christians the most practical and interesting portions of Arch- bishop Leighton's Complete Works. The selection is in reg- ular order from every part of his writings, and we have endeavor- ed to tnake it in reality rather his select works, than a mere com- pilation of his beauties; supposing that no person of intelligence would be satisfied with a meagre list of scattered extracts. In the account of his life we have extracted several successive pa- ges from the memoir prefixed to the last edition of his works, and have made free use of the interesting notices to be found in Bishop Burnet's History of his own Times. The remark on pa2;e xl, in regard to the difference between Christians of this and the seventeenth century may be liable to misap|)rehension. Whoever at this day is a Cliristian, must of necessity be a revival Christian ; a Christian who prays with fervor and acts with energy for the conversion of his fellow men. But there is a tendency in the external religious effort of this age to stand in the place of prayer and the study of the Bible, instead of proceeding from the steady performance of those duties, as their inevitable, legitimate result. Our religion, then, is in danger of becoming bustling and superficial. Now if there bo a thoughtful being in the universe, certainly the Chris- tian ought to be such an individual. The Christians in Leigh- Ion's time were so. The Nonconformists especially united pro- iv PREFACE. found study and miicli meditation witli great external energy. To make tlie Cliristian cliaracier complete, botli these are necessary. Our danger is that of neglecting prayer and the Bible, the only means that can fit us for usefulness, and of entering on external effort, too much because the general current sets that way, and to be consistent we must go with it, whether cur hearts are hum- ble, broken, and contrite, or not. We are in danger of endeav- oring to promote revivals, not because, by the acquisition of scrip- tural wisdom, and by habits of fervent, frequent, persevering prayer, our heads and hearts are prepared for it, and would nat- urally constrain us to it, but because others are working, the world is busy, and we ask, what will men say of vs. La soci- ete, la sociele ! says Madame De Stael, (and oh how much mel- ancholy truth there is in it, even in regard to social religious effort,) comme elle rend le ccEur dur et 1' esprit frivole ! comme ellafait vivre pour ce que V on dim de vous ! Society, society ! how it renders the heart hard and the mind frivolous ! hoio it makes you live for what people will say of you ! As external effoit increases. Prayer and the thoughtful peru- sal of God's word ought to increase in proportion. We are in danger of acting on a theory directly opposite, and of ar- guing ourselves into the belief that the frequency and variety of external duly excuses us from spending so much time as usual over the Bible and in prayer. If the Christian would do much for Jesus in this dying world, he must be vigilant, he must be thoughtful, he 7nust labor in secret, and become eminently a man of prayer. Amidst all Paul's journeyings, perils, and labors, he was right and day praying exceedingly. REMARKS ON THE LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS, OF ARCHBISHOP LEIGHTON. Put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. It is with no small degree of this feeling that we approach the contemplation of a character so holy as that of Archbishop Leighton. Every thing connected with iiis mem- ory seems sanctified ; and when we open a volume of his wri- tings, it is almost as if we opened the Bible. He was born at Edinburgh in the year 161 1 . His father, Dr. Alexander Leighton, was a presbyterian clergyman, who, for a virulent attack upon Episcopacy, experienced the painful cruel- ties of the Star-Chamber under Charles 1st. Leighton had two sis- ters and a younger brother. He was remarkable even in childhood for his quiet disposition and affectionate serious manners. He seems indeed to have been sanctified from his earliest years, and while yet a boy is said to have directed his studies and views to- wards the ministry. He was educated at Edinburgh, and after receiving his degree travelled in Europe for several years, pursu- ing his studies at the same time. From his travels he returned to Scotland, and shortly, in 1641, being then thirty years of age, was ordained Minister of Newbottle near Edinburgh . Here he continued till 1652, when he tendered his resignation to the Presbytery. " He soon came," says Bishop Burnet, " to see into the follies of the presbyterians and to dislike their covenant ; par- ticularly their imi)osing it, and their fury against all who differed from them. He found they were not capable of large thoughts : theirs were narrow, as their tempers were sour. So he grew wea- ry of mixing with them. He scarce ever went to their meetings, and lived in great retirement, minding only the care of his own parish at Newbottle, near Edinburgh. Yet all the opposition that he made to them was, that he preached up a more exact 1 vi rule of life, than seemed to them consistent with human nature; but his own practice did even outsliine his doctrine." It was not strange tliat a'man of his uncommon mildness should find his situation an unpleasant one. Besides having a predi- lection for the Episcopalian form of worship, he could not en- dure the spiritual despotism nor the fierce zeal prevalent among the members of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. From one anecdote it would seem that his brethren in the ministry were but ill pleased with his freedom from the intolerant and passionate zeal of the times. In a synod he was publicly reprimanded for not preaching up the times. Who, he asked, does preach up the times? It was answered that all the brethren did it. Then, he rejoined, if all of you preach up the times, you may surely allow one poor brother to preach up Clirist Jesus and eternity. About tills period he met with a calamity in the loss of a thousand pounds, which constituted his whole property. He had suffered it to remain in the hands of a merchant without adequate security. To the remonstrances of Mr Lightmaker, his brother in law, who urged him to come to London and vest it more safely, he repli- ed, " any pittance belonging to me may possibly be useful for my subsib^tence ; but truly if something else draw me not, I shall nev- er bestow so long a journey on that I account so mean a bu- siness." Wlien the merchant failed, as had been anticipated, and Leighton's patrimony was irretrievably lost, he said to his broth- er in law, " That little that was in Mr. E.'s hands hath failed me ; but I shall either have no need of it, or be supplied in soirie oth- er way." Being in England sometime afterwards, his recent loss was touched upon by IMr. Lightmaker, who regretted that he had so sadly misplaced his confidence. " Oh ! no more of that," cried Leighton ; " the good man has escaped froin the care and vex- ation of that business." " What, is that all you make of the mat- ter?" rejoined his brother-in-law with surprise. '* Truly," an- swered the other, " if the Duke of Newcastle, after losing nine- teen times as much of yearly incnine, can dance and sing, while the s?lid hopes of Christianity will not avail to support us, we had better be as the world." " Somewhere about this time, — for the date cannot be assigned with certainty, — there happened an accident which drew forth a proof of his admirable self-possession in the sudden prospect of death. He had taken the water at the Savoy stairs, in company with his brother Sir Ellis, his lady, and some others, and was on his way to Lambeth, when, owing to some mismanagement, the t vii boat was in imminent danger of going to the bottom. While the rest of the party were pale with terror, and most of them cry- ing out, Leighton never for a moment lost his accustomed seren- ity. To some, who afterwards expressed their astonishment at liis calmness, he replied ; " Why, what harm would it have been, if we had been safely landed on llie other side ?" In t!ie liabit of dying daily, and of daily conversing witii the world of spir- its, he could never be surprised or disconcerted by a suaimons to depart out of the body." " Another anecdote of him, which bears witness to his devout equanimity on perilous occasions, belongs to this period of his history. During the civil wars, when the royalist army was ly- ing in Scotland, Leigliton was anxious to visit his brother, who bore arms in the king's service, before an engagement whicli was daily expected should take place. On his way to the camp he was benighted in the midst of a vast thicket ; and having deviated from the path, he sought in vain for an outlet. Almost spent with fatigue and hunger, he began to think his situation desperate, and dismounting he spread his cloak upon the ground, and knelt down to pray. With implicit devotion he resigned his soul to God; entreating, however, that if it were not the divine pleasure for him then to conclude his days, soine way of deliverance might be opened. Then reinounting his horse, he threw the reins upon Its neck; and the animal, left to itself, or rather to the conduct of an Almighty Providence, made straight into the highroad, threading all the mazes of the wood with unerring certaintv." At first his resignation was not accepted, but afterwards, in 1C52, he was .discharged from the ministerial duties which he had jjerformed for more than eleven years, with such holy, tmexampled faithfulness. Not long after this, he was chosen princii)al of the University of Edinhurgli, and remained in this situation till 16G2. Burnet's account of this event is ns follows. " He had generally the reputation of a saint, and of somrtiiing above himian nature in him : So the Mastership of the college of Edinburgh falling vacant sometime after, and it being in tlie gift of the city, be was prevailed with to accept of it, b(>cause in it he was wholly separated from all church matters. He con- tinued ten years in that post, and was a great blessing in it ; for he talked so to all the youth of any capacity or distinction, that it had a great effect on many of them. He preached often to them ; and if crowds broke in, which they were apt to do, he would have gone on in his sermon in Latin, with a purity and life that charmed all who understood it." It was his custom to de- liver a theological Prelection once a week. viii In IG62 he was exalted to " a sphere of stormy greatness, wherein his apostolic viitues gilded the gloom, which it exceeded even their influence to dispel." He was appointed hy the King with several other bishops to commence the reestablishnient of the Episcopal church in Scotland. He acceded to the preferment from a pure sense of duty, contrary to his own desires, and in the hope by wise and gentle measures to soften the prejudices of his countrymen, and accomplish the union of the churches of Eng- land and Scotland. At his own special request he was appoint- ed to the least important See, the inconsiderable one of Dun- blane in Perthshire. His reluctance to acquiesce at any rate in the promotion, " was only overcome by a perem])tory order of the court, requiring liim to accept it, unless lie dionghtin his con- science that the episcopal office was unlawful." Ti)is he could not conscientiously declare. In a letter to the Rev. James Aird, Minister at Torry, which exhibits in a very interesting manner his feelings on this occasion he observes, " One comfort I have, that in what is pressed on me there is the least of my own choice, yea on the contrary the strongest aversion that ever I had to any thing in all my life : the difficul- ty in short lies in a necessity of either owning a scruple which 1 have not, or the rudest disobedience to authority, that may be. Meanwhile hope well of me, and pray for ine. This word I will add, that as tiicre has been nothing of my choice in the thing, so 1 undergo it, if it must be, as a mortification, and that greater than a cell and haircloth : and whether any will believe this or no I am not careful." " The bishops came down to Scotland," says Burnet, " soon after their consecration, all in one coach. Leighton told me he believed they were weary of him, for he was very wea- ry of them ; but he, finding they intended to be received at Ed- inburgh with some pomp, left them at Morpeth, and came to Ed- inburgh a few days before them. He hated all appearances of vanity." He was a true Shepherd and Bishop of souls. In a thousand ways the holy glories of his character shone in his wise and pious measures for the promotion of religion in Scotland. " The only priority he sought" writes his biographer, " was in labors; the only ascendancy he coveted was in self-denial and holiness ; and in these respects he had few competitors for preeminence. Pro- ceeding steadily upon these principles, and exerting ail his influ- ence to impart to others the same fervency of spirit, he drew up- on himself the eyes of all Scotland, which gazed with amazement ix at his bright and singular virtues, as at a star of unrivalled bril- liance, newly added to the sky. Even the presbyterians were softened by liis Christian urbanity and condescension, and were constrained to admit that on him had descended a double portion of the apostolic spirit. Had his colleagues in office been kin to him in temper, it is not extravngant to believe that the attempt to restore episcopacy would have had a more prosperous issue." But he soon found it vain to hope, while plans conceived in a spirit of imprudence and harshness were carried into execution by irreligious men with irreligious fury. " I find him expressing himself," says his biographer, " in allusion no doubt to the leading men of this period, with a poignant recollection of the selfish craft by which they were characterized. Seeing them destitute of Christian simplicity and singleness of purpose, he lost all heart about the issue of their measures ; and designa- ted them, in scriptural language, as empty vines bringing forth fruit unto themselves. " I have met with many cunning plotters," he would say, " but with fewtridy honest and skilful undertakers. Many have I seen who were wise and great as to this world, but of such as are willing to be weak that others may be strong, and whose only aim it is to promote the prosperity of Zion, have I not found one in ten thosuand." In 16C5 he came to the resolution to lay down his charge, and accordingly bade a solemn farewell to the clergy, before going to London to seek permission to resign. The king was afTerted by his representations, and pledged himself to more prudent and conciliatory measures ; but would not consent to Leighlon's re- signation. The account of his interview, which he supposed would be the last, with his clerical brethren, (taken from the re- cords of his charges to the clergy,) is full of pathos. " After the affairs of the synod were ended, the Bishop shew- ed the brethren he had somewhat to impart to them that concer- ned himself, which though it imported little or nothing, either to them or to the church, yet he judged it his duty to acquaint them with ; and it was, the resolution he had taken of retiring from his public charge ; and that all the account he could give of the reasons moving him to it was briefly tliis ; the sense he had of his own unworlliiness of so high a station in the church, and his weariness of the contentions of this church, which seemed rather to be growing than abatins:, and by their growth did make so great abatement of that Christian meekness and mutual charity, that is so much more worth than the whole sum of all that we contend about. He thanked the brethren for all their undeserved respect *1 X ■4 and kindness manifested to himself all along ; and desired their good construction of tho poor endeavors he had used to serve them, and to assist tiiem in promoting the work of the ministry, and the great designs of tlie gospel, in their bounds ; and if in any thing in word or deed he had offended them, or any of them, he earnestly and humbly craved their pardon : and having recom- mended to tiiem to continue in the study of peace and liohness, and of ardent love to our great Lord and Master, and to the souls he hath so dearly bought, he closed with these words of the apostle : Finally, brethren, farewell : be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, and live in peace; and the God of "peace and love shall be with you." In 16G9 J./C'igliion was a|)poin*ed Archbishop of Glasgow on the removal of Archbishop Burnet. The short account which Bishop Burnet, in the history of his own times, has given of this event and its immediate results in the movements of Leighton, his clergy, and the presbyterian ministers, is admirably character- istic of all the piTrties. *' Leighton undertook the administration of the See of Glas- gow : and it was a yenr after this, before he was prevailed on to be translated thither. He came, upon this, to Glasgow, and held a synod of his clergy ; in which nothing was to be heard, but com- plaints of desertion and ill usage from them all. Leighton in a sermon that he preached to them, and in several discourses both public and private, exhorted them to look up more to God, to consider themselves as the ministers of the cross of Christ, to bear the contempt and ill iis;ige they met with, as a cross laid on them for the exercise of their faith and patience, to lay aside all the appetites of revenge, to humble themselves before God, to have many days for secret fasting and prayers, and to meet often to- gether, that they might quicken and assist one another in those holy exercises; and then they migiit expect blessing from hea- ven upon their labors. This was a new strain to the clergy. They had nothing to say against it; but it was a comfortless doc- trine to them and they had not been accustomed to it. No spee- dy ways were proposed for forcing the people to come to church, nor for sending soldiers among them, or raising the fines to which they were liable. So they went home, as little edified with their new bishop as he was with thein. When this was over, he went round some parts of the country, to the most eminent of the in- dulged ministers, and carried me with him. His business was to persuade them to hearken to propositions of peace. He told them some of them would be quickly sent for to Edinburgh, where xi terras would be offered them in order to the making up our dif- ferences: all was sincerely meant : they would meet with no arti- fices nor hardships : and if they received those offers heartily, they would be turned into laws : and all the vacancies then in the church would be filled by their brethren. They received this with so mucli indifference, or rather neglect, that it would have cooled any zeal that was less warm and less active than that good man's was. They were scarce civil; and did not so much as thank him for his tenderness and care : the more artful among them, such as Hutcheson, said it was a thing of general concern, and they were but single men. Others were more metapliysical, and entertained us with some poor arguings and distinctions. Leighton began to lose heart. Yet he was resolved to set the negotiation on foot, and carry it as far as he could." In 1G70 Leighton had several conferences with the presbyte- rlan leaders, and offered such concessions as in effect almost vacated the episcopal office ; but it was all in vain. " All was • lost labor," says Burnet ; " hot men among them were positive ; and all of them were full of contention." The whole account of these convocations, and indeed of the prosecution and end of king Charles' designs for the establishment of episcopacy in Scotland, is one of the most interesting and instructive poi iions of Bur- net's History. Their last meeting took place at the house of Lord Roihes, " where, says Leighton's biographer, this tedious treaty was concluded by Hucheson, in the name of the whole fraternity, returning this 'short and dry answer,' as Leighton de- signates it ; ' We are not free in conscience to close with the propositions, made by the Bishop of Dunblane, as satisfactory.' Leighton begged for an ex|jlicit statement of their reasons for persisting in a course, so contrary to the peace and welfare of the church ; but'tlie presbyterian representatives excused them- selves from all argument on the subject. Being requested to submit propositions, on their part, which might furnish a hopeful basis for a fresh negotiation, they declined the invitation, on the plea that their sentiments were already before the world ; there- by signifying that nothing would satisfy them, short of the utter extinction of episcopacy. The Archbishop, perceiving that no terms would be accepted by this untractable race, delivered him- self, before the assembly broke up, at considerable length and with energetic solemnity. He unfolded the motives, by which he had been actuated in setting afloat this negotiation, and in still urging it forward, when wave upon wave was driving it back. ' I\]y sole object has been to procure peace, and lo advance the interests xK of true religion. In following up this object, I have made several proposals, which I am fully sensible involved great diminutions of the just rights of episcopacy. Yet, since all church power is in- tended for edifica'iion, and not for destruction, 1 thought that, in our present circumstances, episcopacy might do more lor die pros- perity of Christ's kingdom by relaxing some of its just pretensions, than it could by keeping hold of all its rightful authority. It is not from any mistrust of the soundness of our cause, that 1 have offered these abatements ; for I am well convinced that episco- pacy has subsisted from the apostolic age of the church. Per- haps I may have wronged my own order in making such large concessions : but the unerring discerner of hearts will justify my motives ; and I hope ere long to stand excused with my^ own brethren. You have thought fit to reject our overtures, without assigning any reason for the rejection, and without suggesting any healing measures in the room of ours. The continuance of the divisions, through which religion languishes, must consequent- ly lie at your door. Before God and man I wash my hands of whatever evils m;iy result from the ru|)ture of this treaty. 1 have done my utmost to repair the temple of the Lord ; and my sorrow will not be embittered by compunction, should a flood of miseries hereafter rush in through the gap you have refused to assist me in closing.' " Leighton continued two or three years longer in his patient but fruitless attempts for union and peace. His spirit had long been tried by the vvorldliness of his colleagues, the rashness and tyranny of the government, the rigid obstinacy of the pres- byterians, and the distractions so multiplied around him. At length, considering his work at an end, he resolved to give up his charge and retire from the world. "The dressing and un- dressing his soul, as he used to call his devotional exercises, was the business to which his few remaining days ought to be conse- crated ; and he " longed to escape, if only into the air among the birds," from the ungrateful service, which he had not declined, when siunuioiicd to it by the exigencies of the church ; but from which he held himself discharged, now that it was become evi- dent that no good could ensue from his remaining in it." There is a letter to his sister which discloses his feelings on this subject ; a shade of sadness rests on his ex|)ressions, but they breathe perfect resignation to the will of God. Dear Sister, I was strangely surprised to see the bearer here. What could XIll occasion it I do not yet understand. At parting he earnestly desired a line to yoii, which without his desire my own affection would have carried me to, if I knew what to say but what I trust you do: and 'tis that our joint business is to die daily to this world and self, that what little remains of our life we may live to Him that died for us. For myself, to what purpose is it to tell you, what the bearer can, that I grow old and sickly ; and tliough I have here great retirement, as great and possibly greater than I could readily find any where else, yet I am still panting after a retreat from this place and all public charge, and next to rest in the grave. It is the pressingest desire I have of any thing in this world ; and, if it might be, with you, or near you. But our heavenly Father, we quietly resigning all to him, both knows and will do what is best. Remember my kindest affection to your son and daughter, and to Mr. Siderfin, and pray for Your poor weary brother, Dunblane, April lOth. R. L. Burnet has given the account of his retirement. " Leighton upon all this concluded he could do no good on either side : he had gained no ground. on ihe presbyterians, and was suspected and hated by the episcopal party. So he resolved to retire from all public employments and to spend the rest of hie days in a corner far from noise and business, and to give himself wholly to prayer and meditation, since he saw he could not carry on his great designs of healing and reforming the church, on which he had set his heart. He had gathered togeilier many instances out of church history, of bisliops that had left their Sees and re- tired from the world ; and was much pleased with these. — He said, his work seemed to be at an end ; he had no more to do unless he had a mind to please himself with the lazy enjoying a good revenue. So he could not be wrought on by all that could be laid before him ; but followed Duke Lauderdale to court, and begged leave to retire from his archbishoprick. The Duke could by no means consent to liiis. So he desired that ho might be allowed to do it within a year. Duke Lauderdale thought so much time was gained : so to be rid of his imporlimities he moved tlie king to promise him, that if he did not change his mind, he would within the year accept of his resignation. He came back much pleased witii what he had obtained ; and said to me upon it, there was now but one uneasy stage between him and rest, and he would wrestle through, the best he could." xiv As soon as the year was completed lie liastencd to London and laid down his archbishopric. After his resignation he re- sided a short time in the college of Edinburgh ; thence he retired to Broadhurst, an estate in Horsted Keynes, Sussex, belonging to his sister the widow of luhvard Lightinaker, Esq., the same sister to whom he had expressed his earnest wishes for such a retreat, in the letter on the preceding page. With her he con- tinued till the year 1G84, in which he died. Before the account of his death, the reader will be gratified in perusing the following deeply interesting passages from the de- scription of his life and character by his biographer, the Rev. J. N. Pearson. We have quoted some paragraphs already ; what follows seems to relate principally to the interval between his retirement and his death. " Of the habits and employments of this man of God, during the sequel of his life, there remain but few particulars. Some interesting notices, however, of his general conversation, which are mostly gleaned from his nephew's letter to the Bishop of Salisbury, the pen of biography will not be employed amiss in recording. " VVe have seen that it was his purpose, in divorcing himself from the world, to give up the remnant of his days to secret and tranquil devotion. Having spent his prime in the active duties of his profession, and in the service of his fellow-creatures, he saw no impropriety, but rather a suitableness, in consecrating his declining years more immediately to God ; and in making the last stage of earthly existence a season of uninterinitted prepar- ation for the scene, upon which he was to enter at the end of his journey. Accordingly he lived in great seclusion; and ab- stained, to the utmost, that charity and courtesy would allow, from giving and receiving visits. Let it not be supposed, how- ever, that he withdievv from ministerial employments. After disburdening himself of the episcopal dignity, he again took to the vocation of a parish minister, and was constantly engaged at Horsted Keynes, or of one of the neighboring churches, in reading prayers or in preaching. In the peasant's cottage, likewise, his tongue dropt manna : and long after his decease he was talked of by the poor of his village with aflectionate reverence. Willi deep feeling would they recall his divine counsels and consolations ; his tenderness in private converse ; and the impressive sanctity which he carried into the solemnities of public worship. XV " Of the devotion which mingled with his own life, flowing easily from a wellspi ing of divine love in his soul, it would be hard to speak extravagantly. Prayer and praise were his business and his pleasure. His manner of praying was so earnest and impor- tunate, as proved that his soul mounted up to God in the flarae of his oral aspirations. Although none was ever less tainted with a mechanical spirit in religion, yet he denied that the use of writ- ten forms put to flight the power of devotion ; and he himself occasionally used them with an energy and feeling, by which his hearers were powerfully excited. To the Lord's prayer he was particularly partial, and said of it, " Oh, the spirit of this prayer would make rare Christians !" Considering prayer, fervent, frequent, intercessory prayer, to be a capital part of the clerical office, he would repeat with great approbation that apophthegm of a pious bishop — " jVemse est, non ut multum legnmus, sed ut rrMltum oremus."* This he accounted the vessel, with which alone living water can be drawn from the well of divine mysteries. Without it he thought the application of the greatest human pow- ers to theology would turnout a laborious vanity : and In support of this opinion ho adduced the confession of Erasmus, that, when he began to approach the verities of celestial wisdom, he thought he understood them pretty well ; but, after much study of com- mentators, he was infinitely more perplexed than before. With what a holy emphasis woidd Leighlon exclaim, in comment- ing upon those words of David — " Thou (O God) has taught me" — A'oTi homines, nec consuetudo, nec induslria mea, s(d lu docuisti.^-f " It is not, however, to be imagined that this great prelate, who was himself one of the most learned men of a very learned age, undervalued human erudition. On the contrary, lie greatly en- couraged it in his clergy ; and has been heard to declare that there could not be too much, if it were but sanctified. But then he set far higher store by real piety ; and would remark, with a felicitous introduction of a passage from Seneca, — " JVora opus est muJtrs Uteris ad honam mcntcm,\ but to bo established in grace and replenished uiih the spirit." Pointing to his hooks one day, he said to his nephew, — " One devout ihoiiu'ht is worth them all ;" meaning, no doubt, that rfo accumulation of knowl- edge is comparable in value with internal holiness. " Of his delight in the inspired volume the amplest proof is af- ' It is not nccrcssary for us to read much, ljut to pray much. t Not men, nor habil, nor my own industry, but Thou liath taught me. X To have a good mind we do not need Id be learned, but itc. JiVl forded by liis writings, which are a golden weft, thickly studded with precious stones from that mine, in beautiful arrange- ment. His French Bible, now in the library of Dunblane, is marked in numerous places; and the blank leaves of it are filled with extracts made by his own pen from Jerome, Chrysostom, Gregory Nazianzen, and several other Fathers. But the Bible, which he had in daily usp, gave yet stronger tes- timony to Ills intimate and delightful acquaintance with its con- tents. With the book of psalms he was particularly conversant, and would sometimes style it by an elegant application of a scriptural metaphor, " a bundle of myrrh, that ought to lie day and night in the bosom*." " Scarce a line in that sacred psal- ter (writes his nephew) that hath passed without the stroke of his pencil." " To him the Sabbath was a festive day ; and he would re- pair to God's house with a willing spirit when his body was in- firm. One rainy Sunday, when through indisposition he was hardly equal to going abroad, he still persisted in attending church, and said in excuse for his apparent rashness, " Were the weather fair I would stay at home, but since it is foul I must go ; lest 1 be thought to countenance, by my example, the irre- ligious practice of letting trivial hindrances keep us back from public worship." " Averse as he was to parade of all kinds, and especially to dizening out religion in modish draperies, yet he was not for shrouding her in a gloomy cowl, and exposing her to needless scorn, as he thought the Quakers did, by dressing her with " an hood and bells." It was his wish to see public worship so order- ed as to exclude superfluous ornament, while it preserved those sober decencies, wliich at once protect the majesty of religion, and help to keep awake a devout spirit in the worshipper. " It may have appeared to some of my readers, that Leighton's latitudinarian views on the subject of ecclesiastical polity border- ed upon the romantic, and were unsuitable to the present imper- fect state of die Christian church. But it is due to him not to forget, that he was an inexorable enemy to laxity and disorder; and maintained the necessity of a regular and exact administra- tion of the church, although he was comparatively indifferent about the form of that administration, if it did but ensure a good supply for the religious wants of the peo()le. " The mode of church government, he would say, is immaterial ; but peace and * Song of Solomon, chap. i.v. 13. xvii concord, kindness and goodwill, are indispensable. But, alas, I rarely find, in these days, men nerved willi a holy resolution to contend for the substance more than for the ceremony; and dis- posed in weak and indifferent things to be weak and compliant." Among such things he classed those points of discipline, on which the dissenters stood out, declaring that " he could not in earnest' find them to amount to more." "The religion of this preeminent saint was incorporated with the^ whole frame of his life and conversation. This gave a pe- culiarity, which was striking and impressive, to many of his or- dinary actions. They were the same things which other men did, but they were done in another manner, and bore the shining print of his angelic spirit. So impressively was this the case, that his nephew, when a little child, struck with his reverential manner of returning thanks after a meal, observed to his mother, that " his uncle did not give thanks like other folk." "It may be doubted whether Christianity, in the days of its youth- ful vigor, gave birlh to a more finished pattern than Leigiiion of the love of holiness. It was truly his reigning passion ; and his longing to depart hence grew out of an intense desire to be trans- formed into the divine likeness. " To be content to stay always in this world, he observed, is above the obedience of angels. Those holy spirits are employed according to the perfection of their natures, and restlessness in hymns of praise is their only rest : but the utmost we poor mortals can attain to, is to lie awake in the dark, and a great piece of art and patience it is spatiosam fallere noctem." Often would he bewail the proneness of Chris- tians to stop short of ihat perfection, the pursuit of which is en- joined upon us ; and it was his grief to observe, that even good men are content to be " low and stunted vines " Tlie wish near- est his heart was, to attain to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ ; and all his singularities, for such to our re- proach they are, arose from this desire being in him so much more ardent than it is in ordinary Christians. In the subjoined letter, this habit of mind, this insatiable longing after perfect iio- liness is finely pourtrayed. It was written when lie was princi- pal of the University of Edinburgh. Sir, Oh ! what a weariness is it to live amongst men, and find so few men ; and amongst Christians, and find so few Christians ; so much talk and so little action ; religion turned almost to a tune and air of words ; and amidst all our pretty discourses, pusillan- XVllI imous and base, and so easily dragged into the mJre, self and flesii and pride and passion doniineerina;, while ue speak of be- ing in Christ and clothed with him, and believe it, because we speak it so often and so confidently. Well, I know you are not willing to be thus gulled ; and having some glances of the beauty of holiness, aim no lower than perfection, which in the end we hope to attiiin ; and in the meanwhile the smallest advances to- wards it are more worth than crowns and sceptres. I believe it, you often think on these words of the blessed champion Paul, (1 Cor. ix. 24, &1C.) There is a noble guest within us. Oh ! let all our business be to entertain him honorably, and to live in celestial love within ; that will make all things without be very contompilble in our eyes. — I should rove on did not I stop my- self, it falling out well loo for that, to be hard upon the post-hours ere I thought of writing. Therefore, " good night," is all I add; for whatever hour it comes to your hand, 1 believe you arc as sensible as 1 that it is still night : but the comfort is, it draws nigh towards that bright morning that shall make amends, Your weary fcllovv-pilgrim, R. L. " Of the effectual eloquence of Leighton's great example a strik- ing instance is adduced in Mr. Edward Llghtmaker's letter. The writer's father, after witnessing the holy and mortified life of this eminent saint, became sensible, that a man is in no safe condition for dying, unless he be striving after the highest degrees of piety. " If none shall go to heaven," he exclaimed, " but so holy a man as this, what will become of me .''" Under these impressions ho very much withdrew from the world ; relinquished a profitable business, because of its dangerous entanglements ; and made the care of his ultimate felicity his chief occupation. " Such consequences might well be expected to flow from an intimacy with Leighton, for his discourse breathed the spirit of heaven. To no one, perhaps, do the exquisite lines of the Chris- tian poet Cowper more accurately apply : When one, that holds cominunion with the skies, Il.TS fiU'd his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings; Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, That tells us whence his treasures are supplied. " He seldom discoursed on secular matters, without happily and naturally throwing in some spiritual reflections ; and it w as his XlJC professed opinion, that nothing takes off more from the authority of ministers and the efficacy of their message, than a custom of vain and frivolous conversation. Indeed, " he had brought him- self into so composed a gravity, (writes his first biographer,) that I never saw him laugh, and but seldom smile ; and he kept him- self in such a constant recollection, that I do not remember that 1 ever heard him say one idle word. He seemed to be in a per- petual meditation." Although he was not given to sermonize, yet any little incident, tl>at fell under his observation, would cause some pious sentiment to drop from him ; just as the slightest motion makes a brimful goblet run over. Meeting a blind beg- gar one day, he observed, " Methinks this poor sufferer cries out in behalf of the whole human race, as its representative ; and let what he so earnestly craves be given him, as readily as God be- stows a cure on the spiritually blind who ask it." — " It is ex- tremely severe," said his sister to him, speaking of the season. lJut thou, O God, hast made summer and winter." was his de- vout reply. — Some one saying, " You have been to hear a ser- mon :" " I met a sermon," was his answer, " a sermon de facto, for I met a corpse; and rightly and profitably are the funeral 'rites observed, when the living lay it to heart." Tlius he en- 'deavored to derive spiritual good out of every passing circum- stance, and to communicate good to others. " In a soul so full of heaven there was little room for earthly at- tachments. Indeed, the whole tone of his discourse, and the constant tenor of his life, evinced bis detachment, not only from pomps and riches and delicacies, but from what are usually es- teemed to be common comforts and necessaries. To his judg- ment the middle condition of life best approved itself. " Better to be in the midst," were his words, " between the two pointed rocks of .'deep penury and high prosperity, than to be on the sharps of either." But his choice, to quote his own emjihatic expression, was to choose nothing, and he left it to a better wisdom than his own to carve out his earthly lot. " If we are born to worldly greatnesses, let us even take them, and endeavor lo make friends with them who shall stand us in good stead, uhen we are put out of our stewardship : but to desire that our journey slioidd be by the troublesome and dangerous road of worldly i)ro?j)eriiy, is a mighty folly." He was pleased with an ingenious similitude of Dr. Sale's, who compares the good things of this life to mush- rooms, which need so many precautions in eating, that wholly to waive the dish is the safest wisdom. "To corporal indulgences none was ever more indifierent. In- XX deed he practised a rigorous abstemiousness, keeping three fasts in tlie week, and one of them always on the Sunday ; not from a superstitious esteem of the bodily penance, but in order to make the son! light and active for the enjoyment of that sacred festival. His nephew tiiinks that he injured his health by excessive absti- nence : but his own maxim was, " that little eating, and little speaking, do no one any harm :" " One thing forborne," he said, " is better than twenty things taken." He thought people in general much too expensive and curious in the preparation of their meals, and wished this domestic profusion were turned into a channel of distribution to the poor. Every thing beyond the mere necessaries of life he termed the overflowings of a full cup, which ought not to run to waste, but descend into the poor man's platter. The gratifications of bodily appetite would not, he was persuaded, be so much reckoned on, if professed Christians had more " spiritual sensuality," as he often termed that ardent relish, which is the characteristic of rectified souls, for the meat and drink, the hidden manna, of God's immortal banquet. "He used to compare a man's station in life to an imprisonmenf,. and observed, that, " although it is becoming to keep the place of our confinement clean and neat, it were ill done to build upon it." His sister thinking he carried his indifference to earthly things too far, and that his munificence required some check, said to him once, " If you had a wife and children you must not act thus." His answer was, "I know not how it would be, but 1 know how it should be. ' Enoch walked with God ; — and begat sons and daughters.'" " In truth, his liberality was boundless. All he received was distributed to the poor, except the bare pittance which his neces- sities imperiously demanded for himself. Unwilling, however, to gain any credit for beneficence, he commonly dispensed his bounty through the hands of others, as we learn from Burnet, who officiated as his almoner in London. " In exemplification of his humane and amiable condescension to his friends and dependents, there is an anecdote, which will not disgrace our pages. He once had a Roman Catholic ser» vant, who made a point of abstaining from flesh on the fast days prescribed by the Romish calendar. Leighton, being apprized of this by ]\Irs. Lightmaker, comniented on the vanity of such scruples, yet requested her to indulge the poor man with such fare as suited his erroneous piety, lest the endeavor to dissuade him from the practice should drive him to falsehood or prevari- cation. " For to this," he added, " many poor creatures ar§ I xxi impelled, not so much from a corrupt inclination, as for want of a handsome truth." So gentle was he in his construction of the faults and foibles of others. It is of little moment to ascertain, even were it possible, wheth- er this be the identical man-servant, whose idle pranks have earned him a never-dying fame in Dunblane and its neighbor- hood. The following story may be taken as a sample of the provocations, with whicli this thoughtless fellow used to try his master's equanimity. Having a fancy one morning for the di- version of fishing, he locked the door of the house and carried off the key, leaving his master imprisoned. IJe v.as too much engrossed with his sport to think of returning till the e\ ening, when the only admonition he received for his gross behavior from the meek bishop, was, " John, when you next go a fishing, re- member to leave the key in the door." " The whole history oI'Leighton's life proclaims his abhorrence of persecution. It is related that his sister once asked him, at the request of a friend, what he thought was the mark of the Beast; at the same time adding; " I told the inquirer that you would certainly answer you could not tell." " Truly } ou said well," replied Leighton ; " but, if 1 might fancy what it were, it would be something with a pair of horns that pushelh his neigii- bor, and Isath been so much seen and practised in church and state." He also passed a severe sentence on the Romanists, " who, in their zeal for making proselytes, fetched ladders from hell t j scale heaven :" and he deeply lamented, that men of the reformed church should have given in to similar measures. " We have seen, in the narrative of his public conduct, how firmly he withstood the severe measures set afoot to produce an uniformity of worship in Scotland. Swords and halbcrts, tongs and pincers, were very unfit instruments, in his esteem, for ad- vancing the science and practice of religion. " The scripture tells us, indeed, of j>lucking out a right eye for the preservation of the whole body; but if that eye admit of a cure, it should rather be preserved ; only let its cure be committed to the dex- terous hands of the kindest oculist, and not to a mere bungler, who would mar instead of healing. For himself he would suffer any thing, rather than touch a hair of the head of those, who la- bored under such pitiable riinladies. as errors in faith nmst be accounted. Or, if he did meddle with them, it should be with such a gentle touch, as would prove the friendliness of his dis- position and purpose." " I prefer," he has been heard to say, " an erroneous honest man before the most orthodo.x. knave in *2 xxu the world ; and I would rather convince a man that he has a soul to save, and induce him to live up to that helief, than bring him over to my opinion in whatsoever else beside. Would to God that men were but as holy as they might be in the worst of forms now among us ! Let us press them lo be holy, and miscarry if they can." Being told of a person who had changed his j)ersua- sion, all he said was, " Is he more meek ; more dead lo the world? If so, he has made a happy change." " It is related of him, that going one day lo visit a leading minis- ter of the presbytery, he found liim discoursing to his company on the duties of a iioly life. Leiglilon, instead of turning off to the subject of the current reasons for non-conformity, though he had gone for the express purpose of discussing them, instantly fell in wilb the train of conversation, and concluded his visit with- out attempting lo change it. To some of his friends who remon- strated with him on this apparent oversight, " Nay," he replied, " the good man and I were in the main agreed ; and for the points in which we differ, they are mostly unimportant; and though they be of moment, it is advisable before pressing any, to win as many volunteers as we can." " This feature of his cbaracter is further illustrated by an anec- dote, which there is every reason to believe authentic. A friend calling upon him one day, and not meeting him at home, learnt, on inquiry, that he was gone to visit a sick presbyterian minister, on a horse which lie had borrowed of ihe catholic priest. " His sobriety of mind and soundness of judgment ought not to be passed over in silence. These qualities were conspicuous in his never pretending to developethe secret things of God, notwith- standing tlie vurieiy of his learning and bis talent for high spec- ulation. Instead of hazarding a guess on a difficult point, to which he had been requested to turn his thoughts, he said to the inquirer, on meeting him some time afterwards, " I have not yet got the lesson you set me." And lo his nephew, who com- plained that there was a certain text of scripture which he could not understand, his answer was, " And many more that I can- not." In reverently standing aloof from those mysteries of the divine nature and government, which are enshrined in a light no mortal eye can gaze upon undazzled, he discovered a judgment equal to his modesty, and exemplified the saying of Solomon, that " with the lowly is wisdom." Being once interrogated about the saints reigning with Christ, he tried to elude the question by merely replying, " If we suffer with him, we shall also reign with him." Pressed, however, to give his opinion, whether or not XXlll the saints would exercise rule in the earth, although Christ should not in person assume the sovereignty, he answered with exquisite judgment, " If God hath appointed any such thing for us, he will give us heads to bear such liquor : our preferment shall not make us reel." Prying into matters of this nature, which the spirit of God has apparently sealed up from man's inquisiliveness, was, in his estimation, indecent and dangerous ; and he thought that pas- sionate curiosity, which overleaps the boundaries of revelation, might be well rebuked by the angel's answer to Manoah ; " Why askest thou thus after my name, seeing it is secret ?" " Enough," he said, " is discovered to satisfy us, that righteousness and judg- ment are within, although round about his throne are clouds and darkness :" and he blamed those, " who boldly venture into the very thick darkness and deepest recesses of the divine majesty." " That prospect of election and predestination,'' said he, " is a great abyss, into which I choose to sink, rather than attempt to sound it. And truly any attempt at throwing light upon it makes it only a greater abyss, and is a piece of blameable presumption. In conformity with these sound views, he always endeavored, when Principal of the University of Edinburgh, to repress such perilous inquiries; judging them of a nature to make young stu- dents conceited, disputatious, and sceptical, and to lead them away from the love of truth and the practice of piety. " We learn from Burnet, that " his thoughts were lively, oft out of the way and surprising, yet just and genuine;" and several of his sayings might be adduced to justify this praise, and to show him well read in the science of human nature and its manage- ment. It was an aphorism of his, that "One half of the world lives upon the madness of the other." lie was no advocate in general for crude and abrupt exposures of unpalatable truths. Being told of an author, who had entitled his performance, " Naked truth vvhipt and stript," his remark was, " It might have been better to clothe it :" and he saw nothing praiseworthy in the roughness, misnamed honesty, of some people, " who would rather overturn the boat tlian trim it." I shall only add, in illustration of this point of his character, a prayer which he used to offer up, which is pregnant with melancholy meaning : " Deliver me, O Lord, from the errors of wise men ; yea, and of good men." •' Of his humility, that grace so lovely in the eyes of heaven, and which was truly his crowning grace, it would be di/licult to take the dimensions. Burnet mentions " that he seemed to have the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and to desire that all other kxiv ptrsons should tliink as meanly of him, as he did of himself; and he bore all sorts of ill usage and reproach, like a man thai took pleasure in it." '• This character of his mind is finely illustrated in the follow- ing passage from one of his letters. " And now I have begun, 1 would end just here ; for I have nothing to say, nothing of affairs (to be sure) private nor public ; and to strike up to discourses of devotion, alas ! what is there to be said, but what you sufficiently know, and daily read, and dai- ly think, and, I am confident, daily endeavor to do? And I am beaten back, if I had a great mind to speak of such things, by the sense of so great deficiency, in doing those things that the most ignorant among Ch.ristians cannot choose but know. Instead of all fine notions, 1 fly to A'v^if flfijooi/ J\(jiOTf fhijaoi/;* J think ihem the great heroes and excellent persons of the world, that attain to high degrees of pure contemplation and divine love ; but next to those, them that in aspiring to that and falling short of it, fall down into deep humility, and self-contempt, and a real de- sire to be despised and trampled on by all the world. And I be- lieve that they that sink lowest into that depth, stand nearest to advancement to those oilier heights : for the great King who is the fountain of that honor, hath given us this character of himself, that He resists the proud and gives grace to the humble. Fare- well, my dear friend, and be so charitable as sometimes in youi' addresses upwards, to remember a poor caitiff, who no day for- gets you . idth December, 1G7G. R. L. " On the eve of taking a bishopric, when he perceived how ma- ny obstacles there were to his doing the good he wished to oth- ers, "Yet one benefit at least," said he, " will arise from it; I shall break that little idol of estimation my friends have for me, and which I have been so long sick of." Though he could not be ignorant of the value set on his puljiit discourses by the pub- lic,— for never was a wandering eye seen when he preached, but the whole congregation would often melt into tears before him, — yet the most urgent entreaties of his friends could never obtain from him the publication of a single sermon. Indeed, he looked upon himself as so ordinary a preacher, and so unlikely to do good, that he was always for giving up his place to other minis- ters; and after he became a bishop, he always preferred preach- * Lord, liave mercy ; Clirisl, have mercy. XXV ing to small congregations, and would never give notice before- hand when he was to fill the pulpit. Of a piece with his rooted dislike to any tiling, that seemed to imply consequence in himself, was his strong objection to have his portrait taken. When it was requested of him, he testified unusual displeasure, and said, "If you will have my likeness, draw it with charcoal :" meaning, no doubt, that he was carbone notandus, as justly obnoxious to scorn and condemnation. His picture was, however, clandestinely taken when he was about the middle age; and as the engravings prefixed to his works are copied from it, it is a pleasure to know from such good authority as his nephew's letter, that it greatly resembled him. "Nature had endowed him with a warm and affectionate dispo- sition, which was not extinguished by his superlative love to God, though it was always kept in due subordination. In his com- mentary on the epistle of Peter he remarks, that " our only safest way is to gird up our affections wholly and he lived up to this principle. Accordingly, after avowing once, how partial he was 10 the amiable character and fine accomplishments of a relation, he added, " Nevertheless I can readily wean myself from him, if I cannot persuade him to become wise and good ; Sine bonitate nulla majestas, nullos sapor.'" To him, as to that Holy One of whose spirit he partook largely, whoever did the will of his hesi-. venly Father were more than natural kindred. Such, therefore, of his relations as were Christians indeed, had a double share of his tenderness ; and to the strength of this twofold bond, not less than to his heavenly-mindedness, we may ascribe his exclamation on returning from the grave, in which his brother-in-law had been interred : " Fain would I have thrown myself in with him." A beautifnl extract from a letter, which he wrote to that gentle- man on the death of a particularly sweet and promising child, to whom he himself was tenderly attached, may here find a suitable place, " I arn glad of your health and recovery of your little ones ; but indeed it was a sharp stroke of a pen, that told me your pretty Johnny was dead ; and I felt it truly more than, to my remem' brance, I did the death of any child in my lifetime. Sweet thing, and is he so quickly laid to sleep? Happy he! Though we shall have no more the pleasure of his lisping and laughing, he shall have no more the pain of crying, nor of being sick, nor of dying ; and hath wholly escaped the trouble of schooling, and all Other sufferings of boys, and the riper and deeper griefs of riper xxvi years, this poor life being all along nolliing but a linked chain of many sorrows and many dcallis. Tell my dear sister she is now much more akin to the other world ; and this will quickly be ))asscd to us all. John is but gone an hour or two sooner to bed, as children use to do, and we are undressing to follow. And the more we put oil" the love of this present world and all things superfluous, beforehand, we shall have the less to do, when we lie down. It shall refresh me to hear from you at your leisure. Sir, Your afiectionate brother, Edinbro\ Jan. I0(h. R. Leighton. " Leighton was a great admirer of rural scenery ; and, in his rides upon the Sussex downs, he often descanted, with sublime fervor, on the marvellous works of the almighty Architect. Ad- verting to the boundless varieties of creation, he remarked, that there is no wonder after a straw, onmipotence being as necessary to make the least things out of nothing as the greatest. But his lofty mind seemed especially to delight in soaring to the celestial firmament, and expatiating through those stupendous vaults, from which so many glorious lamps are hung out, on purpose, he be- lieved, to attracl our thoughts to the glory that excellelh ; and " we miss the chief benefit they are meant to render us, if we use them not to light us up to heaven." " It was a long hand," lie would exclaim, " and a strong hand too, that stretched out this stately canopy above us; and to him whose work it is we may rightly ascribe most excellent majesty." After some such expressions of devout amazement, he would sink into silent and adoring centem|)lation. " We have seen that his walk was direct to heaven, and the drift of his conversation habitually unearthly. He died daily by the mortification of his natural appetites and affections ; and he was visibly perfect in that frame of mind, which he wondered should not be universal, " in which every second thought is of death." It was not in a melancholy tone that he touched on this serious subject ; for the illusions s])read over earthly things had long since faded away from his eyes, which were fixed in the sublime anticipations of failh on those blissful realities, that shall open upon the redeemed of the Lord, when they have shaken ofF mortality. To him, therefore, death had lost its sting : it was become a pleasant theme ; and gave occasion to some of his most cheerful sayings. He would compare this heavy clod of clay, tvith which the soul is encumbered, to the miry boots, of which XXVH the traveller gladly divests himself on finishing his journey : and he could not disguise his own wish to be speedily unclothed, in- stead of lingering below till his garments were worn out and dropped off through age. In general, his temper was serene rather than gay ; but his nephew states, that if ever it rose to an unusual pitcli of vivacity, it was wlien some illness attacked him ; — when, " from the shaking of the prison doors, he was led to hope, that some of those brisk blasts would throw them open, and give him the release he coveted." Then he seemed to stand tiptoe on the margin of eternity, in a delightful amazement of spirit, eagerly awaiting the summons to depart, and feeding his soul with the prospect of immortal life and glory. Sometimes, while contemplating his future resting-place, he would break out into that noble apostrophe of pious George Herbert; O let me roost and nestle there ; Then of a sinner thou art rid, And I of hope and fear. " Hearing once of the death of a portly man ; " How is it," he exclaimed, " that A • has broke through those goodly brick walls, while I am kept in by a bit of flimsy deal ?" He would Say pleasantly, that he had his night-cap on, and rejoiced that it was so near bed-time, or, rather, so near the hour of rising to one who had long lain awake in the dark; and pointing to the chil- dren of the family, one evening, who were showing symptoms of weariness, and importuning to be imdressed ; " Shall [," said he, " who am threescore and ten, be loth to go to bed This world he considered a state of nonage, and the land of mature men a land very far off. No apophthegm of uninspired wisdom {)leas- ed liim more than that of Seneca : " Ilia dies, quam ut supremam metmsses, ccternitatis nnfnlii cs<."* His alacrity to depart result- ed from his earnest desire to " see and enjoy perfection in the perfect sense of it, which he could not do and live." "That consummation," he would say, " is truly a hope deferred ; but, when it cometh, it will be a tree of life.'' "An extract from a letter, supposed to have been written a short time before his death, may here be aptly inserted. "I find daily more and more reason without me, and within me yet much more, to pant and long to be gone. I am grown exceeding uneasy in wriiiiig and speaking, yea almost in think- ing, when I reflect how cloudy our clearest thoufihts are : but, I think again what other can we do, till the day break and the shadows flee away, as one that lieth awake in the night must be * The day which you fear as your last, is the birth day or etf.rnitt. XXVlll tliinking ; and one thought that will likely oftenest return, when hy all olher thoughts he finds little relief, is, when will it he day ?" " Yet Lcighton, for the comfort of weak believers be it record- ed, did not pretend to an absolute assurance of final salvation. Conversing, one day, in his wonted strain of holy animation, of the blessedness of being fixed as a pillar in the heavenly Jerusa- lem to go no more out,* he was interrupted by a near relation exclaiming, " Ah, but you have assurance !" " No, truly," he replied, " only a good hope, and a great desire to see what they are doing on the olher side, for of this world I am heartily wea- ry." " Such was the holy man, of whom little now remains to be told, except his dismissal from this troublesome scene to that place among tho sanctities of heaven, which he had long preoccupied in affection and spirit." In the year 1G84, Leighton received an earnest request from Bishop Burnet, to visit Lord Perth, once apparently a good man, but now a very wicked one, who had begun to feel compunction for his crimes, and desired to see Leighton. " I hoped, says Burnet, that still some good impressions had been left in him : and now, when he came to London to be made lord chancellor, I had a very earnest message from him, desiring by my means to see Leighton. I thought that angelical man might have awaken- ed in him some of those good principles, which he seemed once to have had, and which were now totally extinguished in him. I writ so earnestly to Leighton that he cnme to London." Though his appearance was healthy, yet his biographer says that he went with feelings of illness, which may account for his presentiment that his dissolution was at hand, "The worse I am," said he in the ardor of his benevolence " the more I choose to go, that I may give one pidl at you poor brother, and snatch him if possible from the infectious air of the court." — "LTpon his coming to me," Burnet continues, "I was amazed to see him at above seventy look so fresh and well, that age as it were seemed to stand still with him ; his hair was still black, and all his motions were lively. He had the same quickness of diought and strength of memory, but above all, the same heat and life of devotion, that I had ever seen in him. When I took notice to him, upon my first seeing him, how well he looked, he told me he was very near his end for all * Rev. iii. 12. xxix lhat ; and his work and journey both were now almost done. This at lhat time made no great impression on me." " The very next day," says his biographer, " he was attacked with an oppression on tlie chest, and with cold and stitches, which proved to be the commencement of a pleurisy. He sunk rapidly, for on the following day both speech and sense had left him ; and, after panting for about twelve hours, he expired without a strug- gle in the arms of Bishop Burnet, his intimate friend, his ardent and affectionate admirer. Nothing is recorded of his last hours : and indeed the disease that carried him ofTwas such, by its na- ture and rapid progress, as to preclude much speaking. But no record is necessary of the dying moments of a man, who had served God from his infancy ; and whose path had been a shi- ning light up to the moment when the shiides of death closed over it. God was, assuredly, the strength of his heart in the hour of his last agony, and is now his glorious portion, his exceeding and eternal great reward. It was needless for himself that he sliould have notice of (he bridegroom's coming ; for his lamp wns always trimmed, his loins were always girded. To his surviving friends it coidd have afforded little additional satisfaction, to have heard him express, on his death-bed, that faith and holy hope, of which his life had been one unbroken example : neither could he have left, for the benefit of posterity, any sayings more suitable to a dying believer than those he daily uttered ; living, as he had long lived, on the confines of the eternal world, and in the highest frame of spirituality lhat it seems possible for an in^bodied soid to attain. He entered into his rest, on the 25th of June, A. D. 1684, in the seventy-fourth year of his a^e." " I was by him," writes Bishop Burnet, " all llic while. Thus I lost him, vvho had been ihe cliief guide of my whole life. He had lived ten years in Sussex, in great privacy, dividing his lime wholly between study and retirement, and the doing of good : for in the parish where he lived, and in the parishes round about, he was always employed in |)reaching and reading prayers. He distri- buted all he had in ciiariiies, choosing rather to iiave it go through other people's hands than his own : for I was his almoner in London. He had gathered a well chosen library of curious as well as useful books ; which he left to the diocese of Dunblane, for the use of the clergy there, ihiit country being ill provided with books. " There were two remarkable circumstances in his death. He used often to say, that if he were to choose a place to die in it should be an inn, it looking like a pilgrim's going home, to 3 XXX whom this world was all as an inn, and who was weary ol uic noise and confusion in it. He added, that the ofFicioiis tender- ness and care of friends was an entanglement to a dying man ; and that the unconcerned attendance of iliose that coidd be pro- cured in such a place would give less distuibnnce. And he ob- tained what he desired ; for he died at the Bell inn, in Warwick Lane. Another circumstance was, that while he was bishop in Scotland, he took what his tenants were pleased to pay him : so that there was a great arrear due, which was raised slowly by one whom he left, in trust with his affairs there : and the last pay- ment that he could expect from thence was returned up to him about six weeks before his death : so that his provision and his journey failed both at once." In addition to what has already been selected from Burnet's history of his own times, the following passages are full of in- terest. " I bear still the greatest veneration for the memory of that man that I do for any person ; and reckon my early knowledge of him, and my long and intimate conversation with him, that continued to his death for twenty-three yenrs, among the great- est blessings of my life ; and for which 1 know I must give ac- count to God, in the great day, in a most particular manner." " He was accounted a saint from his youth up. He had great quickness of parts, a lively apprehension, with a charming vivac- ity of thought and expression. He had the greatest command of the purest Ijntin that ever I knew in any man. He was a mas- ter both of Greek and Hebrew, and of the whole compass of the- ological learning, chiefly in the study of the scriptures. But that which excelled all the rest was, he was possessed with the highest and noblest sense of divine things that I ever saw in any man. He had no regard to his person, unless it was to mortify it by a constant low diet, that was like a perpetual fast. He had a contein|)t both of wealth and reputation. He seemed to have l the lowest thoughts of himself possible, and to desire that all I other persons should think as meanly of him as he did of him- self : he bore all sorts of ill usage and reproach like a man that took pleasure in it. He had so subdued the natural heat of his temper, that in a great variety of accidents, and in a course of twenty-two years' intimate conversation with him, I never ob- I served the least sign of ])assion, but upon one single occasion. He brought himself into so composed a gravity, that I never saw him laugh, and but seldom smile. And he kept himself in such a constant recollection, that I do not remember that ever 1 heard I xxxi him say one idle word. There was a visible tendency in all he said, to raise his own mind, and those he conversed with, to seri- ous reflections. He seemed to be in a perpetual m.editatiop And though the whole course of liis life was strict and ascetical, yet he had nothing of the sourness of temper that generally pos- sesses men of that sort. He was the freest from superstition, from censuring others, or imposing his own methods on them, possible. So that he did not so mucli as recommend them to others. He said there was a diversity of tempers, and every man was to watch over his own, and to turn it in the best man- ner he could. His tlioughts were lively, oft out of the way and surprising, yet just and genuine. And he had laid togetlier in his memory the greatest treasure of the best and wisest of all the ancient sayings of the heathens as well as Christians, that I have ever known any man master of: and he used them in the aptest manner possible." Speaking of the bishops of Scotland, and referring partic- ularly to Archbishop Leighton, Bujnet says in the preface to his life of Bedell, '• J have observed among the few of them to whom I had the honor to be known particularly, as great and exemp- lary things as ever I met with in all ecclesiastical history ; not on- ly the practice of the strictest of all the ancient canons, but a pitch of virtue and piety, beyond what can fall under common imitation, or be made the measure of even the most angelical rank of men; and saw things in them that look more like fair ideas, than what men clothed with flesh and blood could grow up to." In his treatise on the duties of the Pastoral care, " I was for- med to them," he says, " by a bishop that had the greatest el- evation of soul, the largest comi)ass of knf)wledge, the most mor- tified and most heavenly disposition, that I ever yet saw in mor- tal ; that had the greatest parts, as well as virtues, w^ilh the per- fectcst humility, tliat I ever saw in man ; and liad a sublime strain in preaching, with so grave a gesture, and such a majesty, both of thought, of language, and of pronunciation, that I never once saw a wandering eye where he preached ; and have seen whole assemblies often melt in tears before him ; and of whom I can say with great truth, thai in a free and frequent conversation with him, for above two-and-twenly years, 1 never knew him say an idle word., that had not a direct tendency to edification : and I never once saw him in any other temper, but that which I wished to be in, in the last moments of my life. For tlint pattern, which I saw in him, and for that conversation, which I had with him, I know bow much I have to answer to God : and though my re- XXXIl fleeting on lliat wliicli 1 knew in l)im, gives me just cause of be- ing deeply Immbled in myself, and before God ; yel I feel no more sensible pleasure in any thing tiian in going over in iny tliougbts all 1 saw and observed in him." Archbishop Leighton had many and worthy contemporaries, lights of preeminent lustre in the church, men of powerful minds, deep learning, and faithful dcvoiedness to Christ. It was an age fruitfully })roductive of intellectual and moral greatness. It was an age for the discovery and riiiening of great truths, and one in which great princii)les were practically tested and estab- lished. It was an age of immense erudition in Law, Philosophy, and Divinity. It was an age of masterly ))ractical Tlieology ; but above all, it was an age abundant in examples of eminent holiness. A mere list of the names of some of the most eminent men who then flourished leaves a vivid impression of intellect and re- ligion on the mind. Leighton, Usiikh, Stillingflket. Cliil- lingworth, Ligiitfoot, Hall, Tavlor, Tillcjison, Hammond, Prideaux, Bates, Baxtek, Howe, Calam^', Reynolds, Henry, Owen, Cudvvokth, Wallis, Walton, Wilkins, IMilton, Selden, Hale, Poole, Manton, Jacomb, Rutherford, Charteris, Nairn, Gilpin, Charnock, Sliaw,Flavol, ]Mcad,I'ocock, Boyle, Barrow, Bull, ^VI)ltbv, Nf.wton. Patrick, Locke. These are some of the eminent scholars, divines, and holy men of old, who flour- ished from the beginning to the close of the seventeenth Centu- ry. Many of them are a host individually. Their mingled taleiiis, learning, and piety mode that age the brightest in all English lit- erature. Star rose after star, in such beautiful succession, as to make one continuous Galaxy of intellectual and moral light. Calamy's lives of the Nonconformists, the first volume especially, is full of striking portraits of men whose learning was of gi- gantic aspect, and whose holiness would have adorned the age of primitive, apostolic piety. It is a continued record of men in labors nhundant,in stripes above measure. Men,, who made life religion, and stamped fleeting time with the impress of Eter- nity. Neither the persecution of enemies, nor the rage of the elements, could keep them from their duty. When the plague ravaged London, and ministers who f(!ared death more than God fled from the pulpits, they bade defiance to the pestilence, and ministered the bread of life to pale multitudes, at altars from which thev would have been driven with penal inflictions in the season of health. Yet Leighton outshone them all. Few men, even in the age XXXlll of Usher, Selden, and IMilton, possessed sucli comprehen- sive erudition ; and since the days of the Apostles there has scarce been witnessed another so perfect imitation of tlie life of Christ. A simple repetition of the beatitudes, with which our Divine Saviour opened his Sermon on tlie iMount, would perhaps be the most forcible and happy delineation of his moral charac- ter. He possessed all the features, there drawn in such expres- sive lines, in a decree so eminent, that any one alone would have rendered his Christian character conspicuous for its excellence. And such a heavenly harmony reigned over them all, that no one grew bright at the expense of the others. In this sense he was a finished Christian. There was a holy symmetry and pro- portion in the graces which adorned his life. They assembled together and blended with each other in such sweet and perfect unison, each occupying its own place, no one absent, no one faintly discerned, that when we think of him, we think of him as 'The Holy Leigliton,' and cannot but feel that no olher appella- tion whatever would be equally appropriate to his character. We may speak of the ardent Baxter, the contrite Brainard, the be- loved, self-denying JNIarlyn, the humble, patient, confiding, perse- vering Schwartz ; but to denominate Leighton's piety in like man- ner from any peculiar grace, would seem like designating the beauty of the rainbow by one of its primary colors. He seems almost to have arrived at the highest degree of spirituality, which it is possible for any human being to attain. If any one of the Christian graces did shine the brightest, it was that of humility. " A self-searching Christian," he would say, " is made up of humility and meekness. If thou wouldest find much peace and favor with God and man, be very low in thine own eyes. Forgive thyself Utile, and others much." "The poor in spirit — thry that mourn — the meek, ^-c. Oh sweet, lowly graces, poverty of spirit, meekness, that grow low, and are of dark hue, as the violets, but of a fragrant smell ; these arc prime in the garlands of a Christian. Oh study these ; seek to have them growing within you." The very shining of the Christian graces, he thought, ought to be with humility. " Shine humbly, to his glory, whose light you borrow ; not to show forth your own ex- cellencies, but His, who hath called you from darkness to his marvellous light. Let your light so shine before men, that they, seeing your good works, (not yoiu-selves, if you can be hid ; as the sun affords its light, and will scarce suffer us to look upon itself,) may glorify (not you, but) your heavenly Father." — " Oh Jesus, my Saviour ! thy blessed humility, impress it on my xxxiv heart." He called humility the preserver of all the other graces, which " \viiho;it it, if they could be without it, were but as a box ol precious powder, carried iu the wind without a cover, iu dan- ger of being scattered and blown away." And he said heauti- lully — tlial " the embroidery, the variety of graces, the lively colors ol other graces, shine best ou the dark ground of humili- ty." It was his humility, looking to the examples of John the Baptist, and of a greater than he, which kept him from the min- istry till after he was thirty years of age, " Good fruit," he said, " may be jilucked too green, which, let alone awhile to ripen, would prove much more pleasant and profitable." It was his eminent humility which made him eminently wise; and it was his Innuility and wisdom combined, which formed him to such childlike acquiescence in the will, and simple defer- ence to the word, of God. Thus hath the Lord been pleased, was to him a suflicient solution of any mystery — it was a d(;light- ful reason. Like a little child, whose hand is safely held in the hand of its father, he walked about, admiring with confiding, un- questioning simjilicily the movements which he could not under- stand. " What questions are moved," said he, "more curious than usefid, I shall either pass wholly in silence, or only name them to pass them, to put them out of our way, that they may not stop us in what may be useful." — " This is arcanum imperii, a stale secret,''^ says he on one occasion, speaking of the counsels of God : " no reason is to be ex|)ecte(l, but his good pleasure." He thought some ii;ysteries were rather humbly to be adored than boldly to be explained. " Here it were easier," he says, with inimitable heaiiiy, of such a m}stery, "to lead you into a deep, than to lead you forth again. 1 ivill rather stand on the shore, and silently admire it, than enter into it." — He could not endure that any should attempt " to cut and square God's thoughts 10 ours, and examine his sovreign [)urposes by the low principles of human wisdom.* How much more learned than all such knowledge, is the Apostle's ignorance, when he cries out, O .' the depth of the riches, both of the tvisdom and knou-ledge of Gud! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out .'" * A liindrcd s|)irit of rcvcronrc to the word and purposes of Ood al)odc in tlie bo- soms of many of llie great .Scholars and Divines of that pcrioil. 'J'hc learned Ski.dkn, iu his l)Ook on 'I'iihes, speaking of the great riclies of the ti ilie of Levi, makes this cn- crgetir remark. I trust in this; thai it pleased the Almiijlily so to enrich that tribe which was reserved only for the holy servit r in the temple. Why he did so, or with wlral proportioii. let llicni for me examine, wlio dare put their profane fancies to play with his hilly text, and >o mo