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1EV . JOHN MT K K A V, 
 
RECORDS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF THE REV. JOHN MURRAY; 
 
 LATE 
 
 MINISTER OF THE RECONCILIATION, 
 
 SENIOR PASTOR OF THE UNIVERSALISTS, CONGREGATED IN BOSTON, 
 
 WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 THE RECORDS CONTAIN ANECDOTES OP THE WRITER'S INFANCY, AND ARE 
 EXTENDED TO SOME YEARS AFTER THE COMMENCEMENT OF 
 
 HIS PUBLIC LABOURS IN AMERICA. 
 
 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED, 
 
 A BRIEF CONTINUATION, 
 
 TO THE CLOSING SCENE. 
 BY A FRIEND. 
 
 To Christian Friends this Volume makes appeal ; 
 FRIENDS are indulgent.. ..CHRISTIAN FRIENDS CAN FEEV 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY MUNROE Aj|D *HUKo> 
 NO. 4, CORNHItL. * 
 1816. 
 
-DAT' 
 
 
 DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS : To WIT : 
 
 District Clerk's Office. 
 
 BE it remembered, that on the sixth day of May, A.D. 1816, in the fortieth 
 year of the Independence of the United States of America, JUDITH SARGENT 
 MURRAY, of the said district, has eposited in this office the Title of a BOOK, the 
 right whereof she claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit : 
 
 " Records of the Life of the Rev. JOHN MURRAY; late minister of the 
 Reconciliation, and senior pastor of the Universalists, congregated in Boston. 
 Written by nunselr. tfhe records contain Anecdotes of the writer's infancy, and 
 are extended to some years after toe commencement of his public labours in 
 America. To which is added a brief Continuation, to the closing scene. By a 
 Friend. 
 
 To Christian Friends this Volume makes appeal ; 
 
 FRIENDS are indulgent.., .CHRISTIAN FRIENDS CAN FEEL." 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An 
 Act for the Encouragement of learning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, 
 and Books to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies during the times therein 
 mentioned." And also to the Act, entitled " An Act supplementary to an Act, 
 entitled " An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, l>y securing the Copies of 
 Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies during 
 the time therein mentioned," and extending the Benefits thereof to the Arts of 
 designing, engraving, and etching historical and other Prints." 
 
 WILLIAM S. SHAW, 
 
 CLERK OF THE DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 JL HE pages, which compose the Volume now 
 presented to the public, were originally designed 
 only for the eye of a tender and beloved friend. 
 
 They were written at the earnest request of one, 
 to whom the Author was endeared by many years 
 of intimate friendship, and still more by those di- 
 vine and soul-soothing tenets, of which it was his 
 distinguished lot to be ORDAINED the Promulgator. 
 
 For those who, like this individual, have dwelt 
 with rapture upon the blessed assurance of the 
 boundless and enduring love of a redeeming God, 
 as powerfully exhibited by those lips which rarely 
 opened but to expatiate upon the glad tidings 
 which was the theme of the angelic song : 
 For those, who loved the philanthropic, the in- 
 spired Preacher, for the sake of the glorious in- 
 spiration ; these sheets will possess the strongest, 
 and most important interest : To such, and to 
 such only, they are addressed. It is in compliance 
 with their solicitations that they are sent into the 
 world, and it is not even expected that those who 
 turned a deaf ear to his consolatory message, and 
 who knew not the powers of his mighty mind, or 
 the pure, and exalted benevolence of his heart, will 
 have any interest in inquiring, " What manner of 
 man was he who told these things., nor what spirit 
 he was of ?" 
 
 BOSTON, MAY*, 1816. 
 
 M189264 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 An account of the Author's birth and parentage, with succeed- 
 ing events until the decease of his father . . Page 4 
 
 CHAPTElf II. 
 Record continued until the Author's departure from Ireland 42 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Arrival in England, and further progress of the INEXPERI- 
 ENCED TRAVELLER 62 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Author becomes a happy husband, a happy father. He em- 
 braces the " truth as it is in Jesus," and from this, and other 
 combining causes, he is involved in great difficulties. Death 
 deprives him of his wedded friend, and Ids infant son, and 
 he is overtaken by a series of calamities ... 90 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The bereaved man quitting his native shores, embarks for 
 America, indulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in 
 the solitude for which he sighed. But, contrary to his ex- 
 pectations, a series of circumstances unite to produce him a 
 Promulgator of the gospel of God our Saviour . . 117 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Record continued from the September of 1770, to the winter 
 
 o/1774 134 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Summary Record of Events from January 1775, to October 
 1809; with a fac simile of General Washington's hand 
 
 writing 195 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815, in- 
 cluding the closing scene 228 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Conclusion 233 
 
LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Containing an Account of the Authors Birth and Parentage, until the 
 Decease of his Father. 
 
 How sweetly roll'd over the morning of life, 
 How free from vexation, from sorrow and strife ; 
 Kind Nature presented rich scenes to my view, 
 ' And every scene she presented was new. 
 
 But soon was the morning of life clouded o'er, 
 And its charming serenity lost ; 
 Too soon was I forc'd to abandon the shore, 
 And on ocean's rude billows be tost. 
 
 "W/'OUR earnest solicitations, my inestimable, my best friend, have, 
 with me, the force of commands, and consequently I am irresisti- 
 bly impelled to retrace for your gratification, as many of the incidents 
 of early life, as live in my memory. Assured of your indulgence, I 
 unhesitatingly commit to your candour, and to your discretion, the 
 following sheets. 
 
 I am induced to regret, that my anecdotes of this charming season 
 are not more multiplied. Were my recollection perfect, my enjoyments 
 would be reiterated, but this would not be right, therefore it is not so ; 
 every season has its enjoyments, and the God of Nature has thought 
 proper to keep them distinct, and appropriate. 
 
 I think, if I mistake not, I was ushered into this state of being on the 
 10th day of December, in the year of our Lord 1741, four years before 
 the rebellion, in Scotland, of forty-five. I mention this circumstance, 
 as it proved to me, in early life, a source of some vexation. The re- 
 bellion terminated in the destruction of many of the Scotch nobility of 
 my name, and this same rebellion was long the subject of political con- 
 
3 : LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 troversy, which generally finished in the execration of the Scots, and, 
 on account of my name, I was looked upon as a party concerned. 
 
 I drew my first breath in the island of Great Britain, in the town 
 of Alton, in Hampshire. This town boasts a Church, a Presbyterian 
 and a Quaker meeting-house ; a celebrated free school, an extensive and 
 very useful manufacture, and it is environed by a plantation of hops. 
 Alton is seated on the River Wey, 18 miles east-north-east qf South- 
 Hampton, and 48 miles west-south-west of London. 
 
 Being the first born of my parents, it is not wonderful that my ap- 
 pearance gave much joy, nor that the little complaints, incident to infan- 
 cy, gave great apprehension. It was in consequence of some little 
 indisposition, that they solicited and obtained for me private baptism. 
 My parents were both sincerely religious, though members of different 
 sects. My father was an Episcopalian, my mother a Presbyterian, 
 yet Religion never disturbed the harmony of the family. My mother 
 believed, as most good women then believed, that husbands ought to 
 have the direction, especially in concerns of such vast importance, as to 
 involve the future well being of their children, and of course it was 
 agreed, that I should receive from the hands of an Episcopalian minister, 
 the rite of private baptism ; and as this ordinance, in this private manner, 
 is not administered, except the infant is supposed in danger of going out 
 of the world in an unregenerate state, before it can be brought to the 
 church, I take for granted I was, by my apprehensive parents, believed 
 in imminent danger ; yet, through succeeding years, I seemed almost 
 exempt from the casualties of childhood. I am told that my parents, and 
 grand parents, had much joy in me, that I never broke their rest nor 
 disturbed their repose not even in weaning, that I was a healthy, good- 
 humoured child, of a ruddy complexion, and that the equality of my 
 disposition became proverbial. I found the use of my feet before I had 
 completed my first year, but the gift of utterance was still postponed. 
 I was hardly two years old, when I had a sister bom ; this sister was 
 presented at the baptismal font, and, according to the custom in our 
 Church, I was carried to be received, that is, all who are privately bap- 
 tized, must, if they live, be publicly received in the congregation. The 
 priest took me in his arms, and having prayed, according to the form 
 made use of on such occasions, I articulated, with an audible voice, 
 AMEN. The congregation were astonished, and I have frequently heard 
 my parents say, this was the first word I ever uttered, and that a long 
 time elapsed, before I could distinctly articulate any other. Indulged, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 7 
 
 as I said, by bounteous nature, with much serenity of mind, every one 
 was happy with me. I was fond of being abroad, and a servant was 
 generally employed to gratify me. During- these repeated rambles, I 
 experienced some " hair breadth 'scapes," which, while they excited the 
 wonder of my good parents, they failed not to record. From these 
 frequent promenades, I derived that vigorous constitution, or at least 
 its stability, which has prolonged my abode in this vale of tears, through 
 many serious disorders, which have seemed to promise my emancipa- 
 tion. I do not remember the time when I did not behold the works 
 of Nature with delight ; such as the drapery of the heavens, and the 
 flowers of the garden, and of the fields ; and I perfectly recollect, before 
 I was clothed in masculine habiliments, that I was delightedly occupied 
 in opening the ground, throwing it into some form, and planting in reg- 
 ular order, little sprigs broken from the gooseberry, or currant bushes. 
 My pleasures of this nature were, however, soon interrupted by going 
 to school ; this was my first affliction, yet, to imperious necessity, the 
 sweet pliability of human nature soon conformed my mind : Nay, it 
 was more than conformed ; I derived even felicity, from the approbation 
 of my school dame, from the pictures in my books, and especially from 
 the acquaintance I formed with my school mates. 
 
 It does no appear to me that I was what the w r orld calls naturally 
 vicious. I was neither querulous, nor quarrelsome ; I cannot trace in 
 my mind a vestige of envy. I rejoiced in every advantage possessed 
 by my little comrades, and my father was accustomed to exclaim, 
 " Never, I believe, was such a boy ; he absolutely delights as much in 
 the new garments worn by the children of our neighbours, as in his 
 own :" and indeed, as far as I can recollect during this sweet morning 
 of life, my most complete satisfaction resulted from the gratification of 
 others. I never enjoyed any thing alone, my earliest pleasures were 
 social, and I was eager to reciprocate every good office. It is true 
 I encountered difficulties, from the various dispositions of those with 
 whom I associated, but, in my infant bosom, rancour or implacability 
 found no place. Being however too fond of play, and ambitious of 
 imitating my seniors, I had little time for reading ; yet I learned, and 
 at six years old could read a chapter in the Bible, not indeed very cor- 
 rectly, but I rarely paused at a word; however difficult, still I read on. 
 My father I remember used sometimes to laugkout a levity which, 
 by the way, he seldom indulged but he did sometimes laugh out, and 
 say, " This boy sticks at nothing, he has a most astonishing invention : 
 
8 tlFK 0* HEV. JOHN MURRAf, 
 
 / 
 
 how it is he utters such sounds, and passes on with such rapidity, I can- 
 not conceive:" but my blunders were more frequently marked by a 
 staggering box on the ear, which necessitated me to stop, when I was 
 obliged to recommence, and go over the whole again. This conduct 
 originated, even at this early age, more fear than affection for my fath- 
 er. I was studious to avoid his presence, and I richly enjoyed his ab- 
 sence. To my brothers and sisters, w r ho were multiplied with uncom- 
 mon rapidity, I was warmly attached, and as our mother contributed 
 all in her power to our gratification, our pleasures were not surpassed, 
 by those of any little group, which came under our observation. 
 
 My parents were the religious children of religious parents, and 
 grand parents ; they were the more religious on that account ; and, as the 
 descendants of ancient noble families value themselves on their pedi- 
 gree, stimulating their children from considerations of ancestry to act 
 up to the illustrious examples which they exhibit and emblazon, uni- 
 formly insisting that they shall avoid mixing with the plebeian race ; 
 so, as soon as I appeared to pay attention to interesting tales, I was 
 made acquainted with the characters of my grand parents. 
 
 My paternal grandfather, however, possessed only negative religion ; 
 that is, his affection for my grandmother obliged him to conform to 
 her, in every thing ; and he esteemed himself happy, in being blest with 
 a wife, who, from principle and inclination, was both able and willing 
 to take upon herself the care, and culture of her children. How long 
 this grandfather lived, I am unable to say, but my grandmother was, 
 with respect to her religious attachments, more fortunate in a second 
 marriage. She was united to a Mr. Beattie, a man of considerable note, 
 in every point of view. It was by this gentleman's name, I became 
 acquainted with my grandmother ; I remember, when very young, to 
 have seen his picture, which gave me a very high idea of his person. 
 It was his son, who was governour of the fortress, in the harbour of 
 Cork. My grandmother soon lost this second husband, and never 
 married again. She was, in the morning and meridian of her life, a 
 celebrated beauty : the remains of a fine face were visible when I 
 knew her, I never beheld a more beautiful old lady. Traces of afflu- 
 ence were conspicuous in her dwelling, her furniture, and apparel ; she 
 was an immediate descendant of an ancient and honourable family in 
 France ; her father's name was Barroux, one of the Noblesse, and a 
 dweller in the town of Paimboeuf, on the river Loire, between the 
 city of Nantes, and the mouth of said river. Mr. Barroux having 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 9 
 
 buried his Lady, who left him two daughters, thought proper, as was 
 then the custom of people of distinction, to educate his eldest daughter 
 in England ; this step banished her from her native country, and from 
 her father : she never saw either more. Attaching herself to a family of 
 Episcopalians, she became a zealous Protestant, which, together with 
 her selecting a husband of the same persuasion, confirmed her an Exile 
 for ever. The irritated feelings of her father admitted no appeal, his 
 affections were totally alienated, he was a high spirited, obstinate man, 
 and he swore in his wrath, he would wed the first woman he met, pro- 
 vided he could obtain her consent, and she were not absolutely disgust- 
 ing. The first who presented happened to be his chambermaid, he 
 made known to her his vow, was accepted with gratitude, and they 
 were speedily married. Not many years after this event, the old gen- 
 tleman died, leaving no issue by his second marriage, and, as he left no 
 will, his daughter, who continued under the paternal roof, entered into 
 possession of the whole estate ; she, however, survived her father only 
 three weeks, when my grandmother became the only legal heir to the 
 property, both of her father, and her sister. 
 
 A large share of the personal estate was conveyed to England, by 
 two priests ; and the real estate was tendered to my grandmother, on 
 condition that she would read her recantation, renounce the damnable 
 doctrines of the Church of England, and receive the Host, as the real 
 presence. My grandmother, and my father, after a conference, which 
 continued but a few moments, cheerfully concurred in a relinquishment 
 of the estate, and united in declaring, that, on terms so calculated to 
 prostrate their integrity, they would not accept the whole kingdom of 
 France. The clergymen returned to the Gallic shore, and the person 
 left in the house, for the purpose of taking charge of the estate, until 
 the heirs at law should recover their senses, continued in quiet posses- 
 sion of an inheritance, worth five hundred pounds sterling per annum. 
 When the estate was thus, upon religious principles, surrendered, I was 
 about five years of age ; but having frequently heard my father circum- 
 stantially relate the transaction, as I advanced in life, my bosom often 
 acknowledged a latent wish, that he had accepted an inheritance, to 
 which his natural claim was indubitable, upon the terms offered by the 
 ecclesiastics, which were, that my grandmother, and my father, should, 
 in so many words, qualify themselves for the possession of their right, 
 while, in their hearts, they continued to judge for themselves. But from 
 a conduct so questionable, the guileless heart of my upright parent 
 
10 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 
 
 spontaneously revolted ; and, for myself, while revolving years gave me 
 to exult in his decision, the detection of so reprehensible a principle, in 
 my own bosom, and at so early a period, originated much contrition. 
 Yet, notwithstanding the very considerable sacrifice made by my father, 
 his uniform efforts commanded all the necessaries, and many of the 
 elegancies of life. His children multiplied ; four sons and five daugh- 
 ters augmented his felicities, he received from nature a strong mind, 
 his parents bestowed upon him a good education, and he was univer- 
 sally respected and beloved. 
 
 The parents of my mother were well known to me, her father's name 
 was James Rolt, his ancestors were all English ; he was in early life a 
 bon-vivant, and even when he became the head of a family, his repre- 
 hensible pursuits were nothing diminished ; the silent sufferings of his 
 wedded companion were strongly expressed in her wan countenance, 
 and broken health. The circumstances of his conversion from dissipa- 
 tion to a life of severe piety were rather remarkable ; and were consid- 
 ered in his day as miraculous. 
 
 Of the piety of my paternal grandfather, or my maternal grandmother, 
 I have little to say. I have never heard that they allowed themselves 
 in any improper indulgencies, and as they were the admirers of their 
 devout companions, it is a fair conclusion, that they were at least nega- 
 tively pious, and that if they did not lead, they cheerfully followed, in 
 cultivating a pious disposition in the minds of their children ; and, by 
 consequence, Religion became the legitimate inheritance of my imme- 
 diate parents. The conversion of my paternal grandmother, from the 
 tenets in which she was educated, increased her zeal, while the inheri- 
 tance, sacrificed from conscientious principles, gave her to consider her- 
 self more especially heir of an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and 
 that fadeth not away ; and conscious that she had fully concurred with 
 my father, in depriving their children of a temporal treasure, they were 
 sedulously anxious to inculcate a persuasion of the necessity of securing 
 another. 
 
 It is wonderful, that while it was the great business, both of my father 
 and my mother, to render their children feelingly solicitous to secure an 
 interest in the Redeemer, that they might thus be entitled to a blessed 
 and happy futurity, they were both of them very rigid Calvini^s. 
 
 The doctrines, taught by that gloomy Reformer, they undeviatingly 
 taught in their family : and hence my soul frequently experienced the 
 extreme of agony. Naturally vivacious, to implant religion among my 
 
LIFE OF KEY. JOHN MURRAY. 11 
 
 juvenile pleasures required the most vigorous and uniform effort. Reli- 
 gion was not a native of the soil, it was an exotic, which, when planted, 
 could only be kept alive by the most persevering attention. Hence 
 Religion became a subject of terror. I was not ten years old when I 
 began to suffer ; the discovery of my sufferings gave my fond father 
 much pleasure, he cherished hope of me when he found me suffering 
 from my fears, and much indeed was I tortured by the severe, unbend- 
 ing discipline of my father, and the terrifying apprehensions of what 
 I had to expect from the God who created me. The second son of 
 my parents was naturally of a pensive, gloomy disposition. He was 
 more piously disposed, and less fond of amusement than myself, and 
 hearing much of Cain as the eldest son of Adam, of Esau as the eldest 
 son of Isaac, and of Abel, and Jacob, as the younger sons, my soul was 
 frequently filled with terror, verily believing my brother was the elected, 
 and myself the rejected of God. This appalling consideration, even 
 at this early period, frequently devoted my days and nights to tears and 
 lamentation. But stability dwelt not with me, and the pleasing expect- 
 ations of my father were often blasted ; my attachment to my play- 
 mates, and their childish gambols, revived, and when engaged in appro- 
 priate amusements, I often forgot the immediate terror of the rod, and 
 of future misery ; both of which, as often as I reflected, I painfully 
 believed I should endure. My father took every method to confine 
 me within his walls ; it was with difficulty he prevailed upon himself 
 to permit my attendance at school, yet this was necessary, and to 
 school I must go; while that rigid and extreme vigilance, which was ever 
 upon the alert, produced effects diametrically opposite to the end pro- 
 posed. My appetite for pleasure increased, and I occasionally prefer- 
 red the truant frolic, to the stated seasons of study, yea though I was ' 
 certain severe castigation would be the consequence. Pious supplica- 
 tions were the accompaniments of the chastisements which were inflict- 
 ed, so that I often passed from the terror of the rod, to the terrify ingi 
 apprehensions of future and never-ending misery. Upon these terrific! 
 occasions, the most solemn resolutions were formed, and my vows were 
 marked by floods of tears. I would no more offend either my father, 
 or his God ; I dared not to say my God, for I had heard my father 
 declare, that for any individual, not the elect of God, to say o/God, or 
 to God, " OUR FATHER," was nothing better than blasphemy ; when 
 most devout, I was prevented from deriving consolation from my pious 
 breathings, by a persuasion that I was a reprobate, predestined to eter- : 
 
12 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 nal perdition. In fact, I believed that I had nothing to hope, but every 
 thing to fear, both from my Creator, and my father : and these soul- 
 appalling considerations, by enforcing a conclusion, that I was but mak- 
 ing provision for alternate torture, threw a cloud over every innocent 
 enjoyment. 
 
 About the time that I attained my eleventh year, my father remov- 
 ed to Ireland, and though I dreaded going with him any where, I was 
 the only individual of the family whom he compelled to accompany 
 him. Yet I was captivated by the charms of novelty. London filled 
 me with amazement, and my fond, my apprehensive father, was in 
 continual dread of losing me ; while the severity he practised to detain 
 me near him, by invigorating my desires to escape from his presence, 
 increased the evil. 
 
 We quitted London in the middle of April, and reaching Bristol, 
 tarried but a little while in that city. At Pill, five miles from Bristol, 
 between my father and myself, a final separation was on the point of 
 taking place. In the Bristol river the tide is extremely rapid, I step- 
 ped into a boat on the slip, and letting it loose, the force of the current 
 almost instantly carried it off into the channel, and had it been ebb in- 
 stead of flood tide, I must inevitably have gone out to sea, and most 
 probably should never have been heard of more : but the flood tide 
 carried me with great rapidity up the river, and the only fear I experi- 
 enced was from the effects of my father's indignation. The poor gen- 
 tleman, with a number of compassionate individuals, were engaged, 
 until almost twelve o'clock, in searching the town, and the harbour, 
 and had returned home relinquishing every hope of my restoration. 
 In the midst of the stream I found a large flat-bottomed boat at anchor, 
 to which, making fast the boat I was in, I consequently proceeded no 
 farther. At midnight, I heard voices on the side of the river, when 
 earnestly imploring their aid, and offering a liberal reward, they came 
 in their boat, and conveying me on shore, conducted me to my lodg- 
 ings ; but no language can describe my dismay, as I drew near my 
 father, who was immediately preparing to administer the deserved 
 chastisement, when the benevolent hostess interposed, and in pity- 
 moving accents exclaimed : " Oh, for God's sake, let the poor Blood 
 alone ; I warrant me has suffered enough already." My father was 
 softened, perhaps he was not displeased to find a pretence for mildness ; 
 he gave me no correction for this offence ; he even treated me with 
 unusual kindness. We were detained in Pill three week^, wishing for 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 13 
 
 a favourable wind, three weeks more at Minehead, and three weeks at 
 Milford Haven. Thus we were nine weeks in performing a passage, 
 which is commonly made in forty-eight hours, and instead of my fa- 
 ther's reaching Cork before the residue of his family, they were there 
 almost at the moment of our arrival. In Cork we were at home ; there 
 dwelt the respected mother of my father, and in easy circumstances ; 
 many changes, however, had taken place in her family, although the 
 remains of affluence were still visible. My father fixed his residence 
 in the vicinity of this city, and a most pleasing residence it proved. 
 
 About this time the Methodists made their appearance, and my father 
 was among the first who espoused their cause. His zeal for vital re- 
 ligion could hardly be surpassed, and it appeared to him that this in- 
 iiate, and holy operation, rejected by every other sect, had found refuge 
 in the bosoms of these exemplary people. But though my father es- 
 poused the cause, he did not immediately become a Methodist : the 
 Methodists were not Calvinists. Yet, if possible, he doubled his dili- 
 gence, he kept his family more strict than ever ; he was distinguished by 
 the name of saint, and became the only person in his vicinity, whom 
 the Methodists acknowledged as truly pious. With the religion of 
 the Methodists I was greatly enamoured ; they preached often, and in the 
 streets ; they had private societies of young people, and sweet singing, 
 and a vast deal of it, and an amazing variety of times, and all this was 
 beyond expression charming. At this period the health of my father 
 began to decline. Physicians concurred in opinion, that his complaints 
 indicated a pulmonary affection. Again his efforts were renewed and 
 invigorated, and, poor gentleman, his labours were abundantly multipli- 
 ed. The ardent desire of his soul was to render every individual of his 
 family actively religious, and religious in his own way ; but as his chil- 
 dren necessarily mingled more or less with the children in the neigh- 
 bourhood, they caught words and habits which he disliked, and applica- 
 tion was made to the rod, as a sovereign panacea. 
 
 In the course of my twelfth year, my father was overtaken by a 
 very heavy calamity ; his house, his houses, and indeed almost every 
 thing he possessed, were laid in ashes. He had only a moment to 
 snatch to his bosom a sleeping infant from its cradle, when a part of 
 the house fell in ; an instant longer and they would both have been 
 wrapped in the surrounding flames, and a deep sense of this preserving 
 mercy accompanied him to his grave. Thus every event of his life 
 seemed to combine to render his devotions more and more fervent. I< 
 
14 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 was happy for us that my respectable grandmother still lived, whose 
 extricating hand was an ever ready resource. 
 
 It was my father's constant practice, so long as his health would per- 
 mit, to quit his bed, winter as well as summer, at four o'clock in the 
 morning ; a large portion of this time, thus redeemed from sleep, was 
 devoted to private prayers, and meditations. At six o'clock the family 
 were summoned, and I, as the eldest son, was ordered into my closet, 
 for the purpose of private devotion. My father, however, did not <ro 
 with me, and I did not always pray ; I was not always in a praying- 
 frame ; but the deceit, which I was thus reduced to the necessity of prac- 
 tising, was an additional torture to my labouring mind. After the 
 family were collected, it was my part to read a chapter in the bible ; 
 then followed a long and fervent prayer by my father ; breakfast succeed- 
 ed, when the children being sent to school, the business of the day com- 
 menced. In the course of the day, my father, as I believe, never omit- 
 ted his private devotions, and, in the evening, the whole family were 
 again collected, the children examined, our faults recorded, and I, as 
 an example to the rest, especially chastised. My father rarely passed 
 by an offence, without marking it by such punishment as his sense of 
 duty awarded ; and when my tearful mother interceded for me, he 
 would respond to her entreaties in the language of Solomon, " if thou 
 beat him with a rod, he shall not die ;" the bible was again introduced, 
 and the day was closed by prayer. Sunday was a day much to be 
 dreaded in our family ; we were all awakened at early dawn, private 
 devotions attended, breakfast hastily dismissed, shutters closed, ,no light 
 but from the back part of the house, no noise could bring any part of 
 the family to the window, not a syllable was uttered upon secular affairs ; 
 every one who could read, children and domestics, had their allotted 
 chapters. Family prayer succeeded, after which, Baxter's Saint's Ever- 
 lasting Rest was assigned to me, my mother all the time in terror lest 
 the children should be an interruption. At last the bell summoned us 
 to Church, whither in solemn order we proceeded : I close to my fath- 
 er, who admonished me to look strait forward, and not let my eyes 
 wander after vanity. At Church, I was fixed at his elbow, compelled 
 to kneel when he kneeled, stand when he stood, to find the Psalm, 
 Epistle, Gospel, and collects for the day, and any instance of inatten- 
 tion was vigilantly marked, and unrelentingly punished. When I re- 
 turned from Church, I was ordered to my closet ; and when I came 
 forth, the chapter, from which the preacher had taken his text, was 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 read, and I was then questioned respecting the sermon, a part of which 
 I could generally repeat. Dinner, as breakfast, was taken in silent 
 haste, after which we were not suffered to walk, even in the garden, 
 but every one must either read, or hear reading, until the bell ga,ve the 
 signal for afternoon service, from which we returned to private devo- 
 tion, to reading, to catechising, to examination, and long family prayer, 
 which closed the most laborious day of the week. It was the custom 
 for many of our visiting friends to unite with us in these evening ex- 
 ercises, to the no small gratification of my father ; it is true, especially 
 after he became an invalid, he was often extremely fatigued, but, upon 
 these occasions, the more he suffered, the more he rejoiced, since his 
 reward would be the greater, and indeed his sufferings, of every des- 
 cription, were to him a never-failing source of consolation. In fact; this 
 devotional life became to him second nature, but it was not so to his 
 family. For myself, I was alternately serious, and wild, but never 
 very moderate in any thing. My father rejoiced in my devotional 
 frames, and was encouraged to proceed, as occasion was given, in the 
 good work of whipping, admonishing, and praying. I continued to 
 repeat my pious resolutions, and, still more to bind my soul, I once 
 vowed a vow unto the Lord, kissing the book for the purpose of ad- 
 ding to its solemnity, that I would no more visit the pleasure grounds, 
 nor again associate with those boys, who had been my companions. 
 Almost immediately after this transaction I attended a thundering 
 preacher, who, taking for his text that command of our Saviour, which 
 directs his disciples to " swear not at all" gave me to believe I had 
 committed a most heinous transgression, in the oath that I had taken ; 
 nay, he went so far as to assure his hearers, that to say, " upon my 
 word" was an oath, a wry horrid oath, since it was tantamount to 
 swearing by Jesus Christ, inasmuch as he was the word, who was made 
 flesh for us, and dwelt among us. This sermon rendered me for a 
 long season truly wretched, while I had no individual to whom I could 
 confide my distresses. To my father I dared not even name my se- 
 cret afflictions, and my mother, as far as the tenderness of her nature 
 would permit, was in strict unison with her venerated husband. The 
 depression of my spirits upon this occasion was great, and enduring ; 
 but for revolving months I continued what they called a good boy, I 
 was attentive to my book, carefully following the directions which were 
 given me, and, on my return from school, instead of squandering the 
 hours of intermission with idle associates, I immediately retired to the 
 
16 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 garden, which constituted one of the first pleasures of my life ; in fact, 
 the cultivation of fruits, and flowers, has, in every period of my exis- 
 tence, continued to me a prime source of enjoyment. My paternal 
 grandmother was the Lady Bountiful of the parish ; having made it her 
 study, she became an adept in the distillation of simples, she had a very 
 large garden adjoining to my father's, and she cultivated an amazing 
 variety of plants. As I was her favourite assistant, she gradually ob- 
 tained my father's permission, that I should appropriate to her a large 
 part of my time, and the hours which I consequently devoted to this 
 venerable lady, in her garden, and in her habitation, were to me hal- 
 cyon hours. It was my study to enrich her grounds with every choice 
 herb, or flower, which met my gaze, and I was ever on the alert to 
 collect plants of the most rare description. This was confessedly an 
 innocent amusement ; it would bear reflection, and was therefore de- 
 lightful. Alas ! alas ! it was too replete with felicity to be continued. 
 I was soon compelled to relinquish my pleasant occupation. My father 
 found it necessary to remove from the neighbourhood of his mother, 
 and her garden no more bloomed for me. 
 
 We were speedily established in the vicinity of a nobleman's seat, in 
 which was instituted an academy of high reputation. It was under the 
 direction of an Episcopalian clergyman^ who, being well acquainted 
 with, and much attached, to my father, had frequent opportunities of 
 hearing me recite many chapters from the bible, which I had committed 
 to memory, and becoming fond of me, he earnestly importuned my 
 father to surrender me up to his care. " He shall live in my family," 
 said he ; " he shall be unto me as a son, I will instruct him, and when 
 opportunity offers, he shall become a member of the University : he has 
 a prodigious memory, his understanding needs only to be opened, when 
 he will make the most rapid progress." But my father, trembling for 
 my spiritual interest, if removed from his guardian care, returned to 
 this liberal proposal the most unqualified negative, and my writing- 
 master immediately sought, and obtained the situation for his son, 
 who was about my age. In this academy many noblemen's sons were 
 qualified for Trinity College, Dublin, and in a few years one of those 
 ennobled students, selected my fortunate schoolmate as a companion ; 
 he passed through Trinity College, and received its honours, from 
 which period I never again beheld him, until I saw him in a pulpit in 
 the city of London. 
 
 Though my social propensities, at every period of my life greatly 
 predominated, yet the close attention paid me by my father, greatly 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 17 
 
 abridged every enjoyment of this description. Yet I did form one 
 dear connexion, with whom I held sweet converse. But of the society 
 of this clear youth I was soon deprived. Recalled by his family, he 
 was to leave town upon a Sunday morning, and instead of going to 
 Church, I took my way to his lodgings, for the purpose of bidding him 
 a last farewell. The ill health of my father prevented him from attend- 
 ing Church on that day, but tidings of my delinquency were conveyed 
 to him by a gentleman of his acquaintance, and my punishment, as I 
 then believed, was more than proportioned to my fault. Still, however, 
 I had sufficient hardihood to run great hazards. A review of several 
 regiments of soldiers was announced ; I could not obtain leave to be 
 present, yet, for the purpose of witnessing a sight so novel, I was deter- 
 mined to take the day to myself ; I suffered much through the day 
 from hunger, and I anticipated my reception at home. In the evening, 
 I stopped at a little hut, where the homely supper smoked upon the frugal 
 board ; the cottagers had the goodness to press me to partake with them ; 
 my heart blessed them ; I should, like Esau, have given my birthright, 
 had it been mine to bestow, for this entertainment ; but, blessings on 
 the hospitable inhabitants of this island, they make no demands either 
 upon friend, or stranger ; every individual is welcome to whatever suste- 
 nance either their houses, or their huts, afford. I sat down, and I eat 
 the sweetest meal I ever eat in my life, the pleasure of which I have 
 never yet forgotten, although the paternal chastisement, which fallowed, 
 was uncommonly severe. 
 
 The time now approached when it was judged necessary I should 
 engage in some business, by which I might secure the necessaries of 
 life. The conscience of my father had deprived me of an estate, and 
 of a collegiate education, and it was incumbent upon him to make 
 some provision for me. But what was to be done ? If he sent me 
 abroad, I should most unquestionably contract bad habits. Well then, 
 he would bring me up himself ; but this was very difficult. He had for 
 some time thrown up business, and new expenses must be incurred. 
 Finally, however, I commenced my new career, and under the eye of 
 my pains-taking father. I did not however like it ; yet I went on well, 
 and, dividing my attention between my occupation and my garden, I 
 had little leisure. It was at this period I began once more to experi- 
 ence the powerful operation of religion, and secret devotion became my 
 choice. Perhaps no one of my age ever more potently felt the joys, 
 and sorrows of Religion. The Met^pdists had followed us to our new 
 
18 I^IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 situation, and they made much noise ; they courted, and obtained the 
 attention of my father, and he now joined their society. They urged 
 him to become a preacher, but his great humility, and his disbelief of 
 Arminianism were insuperable bars. He was nevertheless a powerful 
 assistant to the Methodists. Mr. John Wesley was a great admirer 
 of my father, and he distinguished him beyond any individual in the 
 society ; perseveringly urging him to become the leader of a class, and 
 to meet the society in the absence of their preachers : to all which my 
 father consented. I think I have before observed, that I was devoted 
 to the Methodists, and for the very reason that rendered my father ap- 
 prehensive of them, they were very social. The Methodists in this, 
 as in every other place, where they sojourned, by degrees established a 
 permanent residence. They first preached in the streets, practised 
 much self-denial, and mortification, inveighed against the standing reli- 
 gion of the country, as impious and hypocritical, declaring the new 
 birth only to be found among them. To this general rule, they, how- 
 ever, allowed my father to be an exception ; and his open espousal of 
 their cause contributed greatly to building them up. They gained 
 many proselytes, it became the fashion for multitudes to become reli- 
 gious ; and it is in religion as in every thing else, where once it is fol- 
 lowed by a multitude, multitudes will follow. The very children be- 
 came religious. A meeting-house was speedily obtained, a society was 
 formed, and classes of every description regularly arranged. There 
 was one class of boys ; it consisted of forty, and Mr. John Wesley ap- 
 pointed me their leader. Twice in the course of every week this class 
 met in a private apartment. The business of the leader was to see that 
 the members were all present ; for this purpose he was furnished with a 
 list of their names, and when they were all assembled, the leader began 
 by singing a hymn. I was once pronounced a good singer, and al- 
 though I never had patience to learn music by note, I readily caught 
 every tune I heard, and my notes were seldom false. I repeat, that 1 
 was delighted with the music introduced by the Methodists. I collected 
 their most enchanting tunes, and singing them frequently in my class, I 
 obtained much applause. Prayer succeeded the hymn ; I was accus- 
 tomed to extemporary prayer, I had usually prayed in sincerity, and 
 my devotion upon these occasions was glowing, and unfeigned. Exam- 
 ination followed the prayer : I examined every individual separately, 
 respecting the work of God upon his heart, and both the questions, and 
 responses, evinced great simplicity, and pious sincerity. A word of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 19 
 
 general advice next ensued, a second hymn was sung, and the whole 
 concluded with prayer. This was a most delightful season, both for my 
 parents, and myself. I became the object of general attention, my so- 
 ciety was sought by the grey-headed man, and the child. My experi- 
 ence was various, and great ; in fact, I had experienced more of what is 
 denominated the work of God upon the heart, than many, I had almost 
 .said than any, of my seniors, my parents excepted. Devout persons 
 pronounced that I was, by divine favour, destined to become a burning, 
 and a shining light ; and from these flattering appearances my father 
 drew much consolation. I was frequently addressed, in his presence, as 
 the child of much watching, and earnest prayer ; this, to my proudly- 
 pious parent was not a little flattering ; it was then that I derived incal- 
 culable satisfaction, from these very legible marks of election : And 
 though the Methodists insisted, that the doctrine of election, before repen- 
 tance and faith, was a damnable doctrine ; yet they admitted, that, after 
 the manifestation of extraordinary evidences, the individual, so favoured, 
 was unquestion- bly elected. Thus by the concurrent testimonies of ( 
 Calvinists, and Arminians, I was taught to consider myself as distin- 
 guished, and chosen of Cod ; as certainly born again. Yet, as it was 
 next to impossible to ascertain the moment of my new birth, I be- 
 came seriously unhappy, but from this unhappiness I was rescued, by 
 reading accounts of holy and good men in similar circumstances ; I 
 now therefore lived a heaven upon earth, beloved, caressed, and admired. 
 No longer shut up under my father's watchful care, I was allowed to go 
 out every morning at five o'clock to the house of public worship ; there 
 I hymned the praises of my God, and united in fervent prayer with 
 the children of the faithful ; meeting several of my young admiring 
 friends, we exchanged experiences, we mingled our joys and our sor- , 
 rows, and, by this friendly intercourse, the first was increased, and the 
 second diminished. In all our little meetings we were continually com- 
 plaining to, and soothing each other, and these employments were truly 
 delightful. The mind cannot be intently occupied on contrary mat- 
 ters at the same time, and my mind being filled with devotion, my 
 waking and my sleeping moments were invariably engaged in religious 
 pursuits ; it was in truth my meat, and my drink, to do what I believed 
 the will of my heavenly Father. At this period, I should have been 
 wrecked upon the sand-built foundation of self-righteousness, as many 
 of my young friends were, had it not been for the unbroken vigilance 
 of an experienced .nd tender father. He saw the danger of too great 
 
20 tlFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 elation, and he laboured to keep me humble in my own estimation. 
 " You now, my dear," said he, " think you know every thing ; but 
 when you really attain superior information, you will be convinced you 
 know nothing." This assertion appeared to me extremely paradoxi- 
 cal ; but I have since learned to appreciate its rationality and its truth. 
 I know not how long I proceeded in this delightful path ; nothing from 
 within, or without, interrupted my course, and I well remember, that I 
 fancied myself on the verge of perfection. I saw, or imagined I saw, 
 undeviating rectitude within my grasp. I was conscious of no wishes, 
 but those which I considered the legitimate offspring of the religion I 
 professed. I wondered what had become of my evil propensities ; 
 they were however gone, and, I believed, they would no more return : 
 my days, my weeks rolled on, uniformly devoted to pursuits, which 
 created for me unutterable self-complacency. On Sunday morning I 
 arose with the sun, and like our first parent in a state of innocence, 
 
 " Straight towards heaven my wondering eyes I turned, 
 And gazed awhile the ample sky." 
 
 Thus after a night of charmingly refreshing, and undisturbed repose. 
 with spirits innocently gay, I arose, washed my face, and hands, repeat- 
 ing a short supplication, which my father never, oh those occasions, 
 omitted : " O, Almighty God, who hath ordained this watery element 
 for the use, and support of nature, by which I am at this time refreshed, 
 and cleansed, O ! purify my soul, by the operation of thy blessed 
 spirit, as a well of water springing up unto everlasting life." I then re- 
 tired to my closet, offering the orisons of my gladdened heart, -and 
 habited for church. I sat down to my book, until my father made his 
 appearance, when the family being summoned, and the morning prayer 
 ended, we breakfasted, but it was a light repast, and soon dispatched. 
 At eight o'clock, I attended the Methodist meeting ; at half past nine, 
 I returned home, and devoted the time to reading, until after ten, when 
 the bell summoned me to church, where the Methodists at that time 
 attended ; at church I was remarked for my devotion. From the church 
 I returned to my closet, after which I read the Bible, responding to the 
 interrogations of my father, relative to the sermon, by repeating it near- 
 ly verbatim. Dinner over, I again retied to my closet; from which, 
 by my father's desire, I made my appearance, to read for him some 
 devotional book, until the bell again commanded my attendance upon 
 public worship ; but, to my great consolation, I had not, when I re- 
 turned home, as on the Sunday sketched in a former page, to spend 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 2i 
 
 the residue of the day in saddening glooms ; at five o'clock, the Metho- 
 dist meeting again opened, to which the multitude flocked ; there I 
 saw, and there, with affectionate admiration, I was seen ; there, when 
 the terrors of the law were exhibited, I was delighted by the assurance 
 of eternal security therefrom ; and there, when the children of the Re- 
 deemer were addressed in the soothing and plausive strains of consola- 
 tion, my heart throbbed with pleasure, and tears of transport copiously 
 evinced the rapture of my souk Society meeting succeeded the close 
 of public service ; three classes of the people were denominated Mcth- 
 odists : The congregation, who, as outer-court worshippers, were only 
 hearers, and seekers members of the society, who were classed ; and 
 members of the. band society, who were genuine believers. The two 
 latter met every Sunday evening after meeting, and no individual, who 
 was not furnished with a ticket, could gain admittance. This ticket 
 was a badge of distinction ; it gave the possessor entrance, all others 
 were shut out, and the door was locked. No words can describe my 
 sensations, when I obtained a seat inside the closed door ; when I lis- ' 
 tened, while the preacher in a low voice addressed the children of God. 
 The house was not unfrequently filled with the dissonant sounds of ter- \ 
 ror, and joy, issuing from the discordant voices of those, who were in / 
 the valley, or on the mount. From this society, I returned home, to 
 unite in family devotion, repeat the fundamental points in my religion, 
 retire to my private devotions, and then to bed. Monday morning, I 
 arose at five o'clock, and, after the same preparation as on Sunday, at- 
 tended meeting, returned to breakfast, occupied myself with the busi- 
 ness of the day, until dinner ; after dinner, and an interval passed in ' 
 private devotion, to secular affairs again, until evening ; then once more 
 to the Methodist meeting, returned, attended family arid private devo- 
 tions, and to my chamber : often not to rest, but to my book, till mid- 
 night. Thus was my time spent, two evenings in the week excepted, 
 which were devoted to my class, and one night in the week, when the 
 society assembled, as on Sunday evening ; but, alas ! the fervour of spirit, 
 excited on those occasions, cannot, in the nature of things, be very 
 durable. There were individuals in my class who proved untoward, 
 they began to be weary in well-doing ; this was a source of sorrow, the 
 first I had experienced for a long time ; added to this, repeated com- 
 plaints reached m) ear, and not unfrequently slanderous reports re- 
 ports one against another ! This tortured me ; I consulted the preach- 
 ers, disputes ran high, the interposition of parents became indispensable. 
 
 D 
 
22 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and the class was broken ! ! This was to me a severe trial ; I had de- 
 rived high satisfaction from the connexion, and from the fame, which it 
 had bestowed upon me ; I however lost no reputation, it was generally 
 believed I had performed my duty, and that no boy, beside myself, 
 would have kept such a set of beings together, and in such order so 
 long. 
 
 This was a season replete with events, whicli possessed for me no 
 common interest. Constantly in society, I formed many attachments, 
 and I began to fear that the love of social enjoyments would, like 
 Aaron's rod, swallow up my best affections. From conviction of error, 
 I sought retirement ; I loved reading more than any thing else, but I 
 sighed for variety, and as the full soul loatheth the honey comb, I be- 
 gan to sicken at the constant repetition of devotional books. My fa- 
 ther read history, and some few novels, but he took special care to se- 
 cure those books from his children. We were allowed to read no 
 books but the bible, and volumes based upon this precious depository 
 of whatsoever things are good, and excellent. I sometimes, however, 
 glanced my eye over my father's shoulder, and rinding Tom Jones, 
 or the history of a Foundling, in his hand, the efforts at concealment, 
 which he evidently made, augmented my anxiety to read. I remember 
 once to have found Clarissa Harlowe upon his table. Hervey's Medi- 
 tations, and Young's Night Thoughts, were not interdicted books, and 
 their plaintive sadness obtained an easy admission into the inmost re- 
 cesses of my sou-l. To Milton too I gave some hours, but I could not 
 read blank verse, nor did my father wish to encourage my attempts in 
 this way. He saw I had too strong a passion for novelty, and he deem- 
 ed it prudent to check me in the commencement of my career. 
 
 Although my devotional ecstacies were diminished, yet I was steadi- 
 ly attentive to my religious exercises, and I believed myself daily in- 
 creasing in goods. It is true my life was as variable as the weather ; 
 sometimes on the mount, and sometimes in the valley, sometimes alive 
 to all the fervour of devotion, and sometimes, alas ! very lifeless : Now 
 rejoicing in hope, and anon depressed by fear. 
 
 The preachers, visiting the adjacent villages, often requested my 
 father to permit my attendance ; his consent delighted me ; I reaped, 
 from those little excursions, abundant satisfaction, and the preachers 
 being my elders, and much acquainted with the world, I collected from 
 their conversation much to instruct, and amuse. They were, howev- 
 or, young men, they collected young company, and they were excellent 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 23 
 
 singers; this was a most pleasing circumstance. My affections naturally 
 glowing, I soon formed strong attachments, and, the CRAFT of Mr. Wes- 
 ley changing his candidates with every new quarter, the farewell ser- 
 mons generally dissolved the whole congregation in tears, and my bo- 
 som was often lacerated with many, and deep wounds. 
 
 An order from the Bishop no\v arrived, calling upon the people to 
 prepare for confirmation, and young persons were directed to wait upon 
 their parish minister for the requisite instruction. Although the 
 Methodists considered themselves Episcopalians, yet they were detest- 
 ed by the clergy of that Church ; their zeal seemed a standing satire 
 upon them ; and their indignation was proportioned to the progress 
 made by the new sect. We, however, presented ourselves as candi- 
 dates for confirmation : though young, I was pretty generally known, 
 and it soon became evident, that I had incurred the displeasure of my 
 minister. No question was proposed to me, but his oblique reflections 
 were abundant; I determined, however, to address him; and one day 
 when he was cautioning those, who were honoured by his attention, 
 against those expectations about which the wild Enthusiasts of the day 
 were fanatically raving, such as the extraordinary operations of the 
 spirit, &c, &c, exhorting them to consider themselves in their baptism 
 made members of Christ, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven, I 
 ventured to ask: Did I, sir, in my baptism, receive all these advanta- 
 ges ? In a most ungracious manner, he replied : "Undoubtedly." Then, 
 sir, allow me to ask, What can I want more ? Of what use 'is confir- 
 mation ? " What do you mean by asking these impertinent ques- 
 tions ?" I ask for information, I came hither to be instructed. " No, 
 you came here to instruct me, you want to see your patron, John Wes- 
 ley, in the pulpit. You have no business here." I conceive, sir, I have 
 business here; I am one of your parish, I was warned to attend, for 
 the purpose of receiving instruction ; and to whom should I apply, but 
 to my minister ? He deigned not to answer me, but when we again 
 assembled, I observed : I remember, sir, when we were last here, you 
 told us, there was no such thing as a feeling operation of the spirit of 
 God ; I request therefore to know, how we are to understand that ar- 
 ticle of our Church, which pronounces the doctrine of election full of 
 especial comfort to all godly persons, and such as feel in themselves 
 the workings of the spirit of the Lord ? " You have nothing to do 
 with the articles, you do not understand them." I should suppose, sir, 
 that every member of a Church had something to do with the articles 
 
24 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of his Church; and if I do not understand them, suffer me to come to 
 you for information. " You are an impertinent fellow, and if you 
 thus proceed, I shall order the clerk to put you out of the Church." 
 You may order me out yourself, sir; only tell me to go, and I will in- 
 stantly depart. Not. another syllable was uttered to me, upon this occa- 
 sion. But upon, the following Sunday, when the young people of the 
 congregation were again to be catechised, I appeared with the rest, and 
 our teacher uttering a severe and pointed sarcasm, I was sufficiently 
 abashed to cover my face with my hat when, in a very angry tone, 
 he commanded me to depart from the Church, he would suffer no 
 laughter there. I assured this Christian preacher, that I did not laugh, 
 that I felt no disposition to laugh ; he insisted, that I did, and with 
 great confusion I withdrew from the altar : but waiting for him in the 
 porch of the Church, I humbly implored his pardon, while I informed 
 him, that he had done me much wrong; that I had too sacred a venera- 
 tion for the place I was in, to deport myself unbecomingly while under 
 its roof ; that I had not the smallest inclination to mirth ; that the con- 
 sideration of his denying the operation of the spirit upon the heart had 
 too much disturbed, and grieved me. " Well, I do still say, there is no 
 especial, operation of thqf spirit : I have never experienced any thing 
 of this description." How then, suffer me to ask, could you say, when 
 you were ordained, that you felt yourself moved by the Holy Ghost to 
 take upon you the office of a teacher ? '* You know nothing of the 
 matter, you are very impertinent." Many were standing by, who 
 seemed pleased with the advantage I had so apparently gained, and, 
 while thus remunerated for the insult I had received, I returned home 
 in triumph. 
 
 Some time after, as I was passing the street, one of my acquaintance 
 asked me, if I knew the bishop was at that moment engaged in con- 
 firming the young people of our parish ? I instantly repaired to the 
 Church, and to my great surprise, found the information correct ; my 
 good priest had not intended I should be apprized of the business. I 
 advanced however to the altar, and presented myself to the bishop. 
 My priest appeared exceedingly irritated, and made a communication 
 to the bishop, in a tone too low to be understood by me ; but his 
 Lordship replied aloud, " it. is of no consequence what they are, pro- 
 vided they understand what they are about." From this reply I con- 
 cluded the priest had accused me of Methodism. It happened, that I 
 was the first of the circle presented round the altar, and he began as* 
 follows : 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY *J5 
 
 Bishop. What is your business here ? 
 
 Murray. My lord, when I was baptised, my sponsors promised, in 
 my name, to renounce the Devil and all his works, the pomps and vani- 
 ties of this wicked world, with all the sinful lusts of the flesh. They 
 engaged also, that so soon as I should have learned the creed, the Lord's 
 prayer, and the ten commandments, they would introduce me to this 
 ordinance ; as, however, they have neglected so to do, I beg leave to 
 present myself. 
 
 Bishop. What idea have you of this ordinance ? 
 
 Murray. I conceive, my lord, that the engagement entered into at 
 my baptism, cannot be fulfilled without the aid, and operation of the 
 spirit of the Ldrd ; and I am taught to consider this ordinance as a 
 mean of grace, through which I may obtain the aid of the Holy Spirit, 
 so requisite to my well doing. 
 
 Bishop. (With a softened voice) Have you ever been at the Com- 
 munion ? 
 
 Murray. Yes, my lord, and although I ventured at first with fear, 
 and trembling, yet deriving therefrom real consolation, I have never 
 since absented myself. " You are right," said the Bishop, and imme- 
 diately laying his hands upon my head, he prayed for me, with the 
 greatest apparent fervour. Turning to a lad, who stood next me, he 
 asked him the same question he had previously addressed to me : he 
 was unprovided with an answer. " This is astonishing," said the bish- 
 op ; " I should have thought you would at least have learned to answer 
 from the youth who spoke be fore you;" and he gave my priest a glance, 
 which called the blush of confusion into his face. I was extremely 
 gratified, so were my friends in general, and my pious father in par- 
 ticular. Mr. John Wesley now made us a visit, he paid me the most 
 distinguishing attention, and the regards of such a man were, to a young 
 heart, truly flattering ; he cherished the idea, that I should shortly be- 
 come a useful labourer in the field, which he so sedulously cultivated. 
 One thing, however, gave him anxiety, the probability that I had im- 
 bibed my father's damnable principles, for such he denominated the 
 Calvinistic tenets ; yet he hoped better things of me, and things which 
 accompanied salvation. When in my father's house, he manifested to- 
 ward him the greatest kindness and friendship ; but on leaving the 
 country, he charged his followers to keep a strict watch over him, lest, 
 through the influence of his great piety, he should infuse his abominable 
 sentiments into the minds of some of the brethren. Mr. Wesley's dis- 
 
26 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ciples considered him the Apostle of the age : and I experienced a 
 reverential awe in his presence ; yet there were points in his conduct, 
 which excited my wonder, and which, in any other character, I should 
 not have hesitated to pronounce wrong ; but I should have believed it 
 criminal even to suspect that he could err. My Religion was becoming 
 more and more formal, it seemed a body without a soul. Sometimes 
 indeed, when listening to a lively, warm-hearted preacher, I was made 
 most keenly to feel the poverty of my condition ; that, while I was be- 
 lieved rich, and increasing in goods, having need of nothing, I was 
 in truth miserably poor, blind, and naked. This consideration often 
 rendered me very sad, I suffered much, and, in proportion as I appear- 
 ed to suffer, I became the object of respectful attention. Glooms, and 
 melancholy, were considered as infallible signs of a gracious disposi- 
 tion, not only by my father, but by all my religious connexions. One 
 of our preachers used to say, he had rather be in the company of a 
 thousand Demons, than ten laughing persons ! Unfortunately for the 
 maintenance of my standing in the society, my sadness was not uni- 
 form, and, preserving no medium, I always became gay in full propor- 
 tion to my previous depression : and, in truth, cheerfulness was becom- 
 ing the prevailing temper of my mind, and I know not how long it 
 might have continued so, if I had not observed, to my great conster- 
 nation, that I was daily losing ground in the estimation of my asso- 
 ciatesL This conviction banished my dangerous vivacity, and restored 
 my respectability. I now sedulously avoided society, and frequently 
 envied those who were released from this dangerous world. I have 
 often, after a night of suffering, risen with the dawn, and entering the 
 church-yard, have passed hours there, contemplating the happy state 
 of those who were lodged in their narrow house, and ardently longing 
 to be as they were. Even my father began to fear, that I was rapidly 
 declining, and by his consequent tenderness I w r as beyond expression 
 touched. 
 
 I cannot now determine how long this frame of mind continued, 
 but this I know, that it lasted long enough to gain me more reputation, 
 both at home and abroad, than I had lost ; there was such a variety 
 in my feelings, the changes in my spirit from sad to gay, from gay to 
 sad, were so frequent, that I had of course far more experience, than any 
 other person of my age. 'The young, when under awakenings, al- 
 ways resorted to me for comfort and information, while the old lwn<r 
 with delight on my narrations : the prayers of my father obtained diu> 
 
LIFE OF REY. JOHN MURRAY. 27 
 
 Credit ; the child of so many prayers could only be as I was. I was 
 at this time about sixteen years of age, but commencing life so early, 
 I felt like twenty, and I anticipated all the enjoyments which awaited me. 
 About this period, our society were gratified by a most unexpected 
 acquisition. A gentleman of great fortune, who had been a virulent 
 opposer of the Methodists, became a zealous convert to their tenets, 
 and, with his lady, joined our congregation ; no event had ever given 
 such exultation, such complete satisfaction. They had belonged to 
 the Presbyterian meeting, and their numerous kindred, worshipping 
 there, continued inveterate adversaries. Between my father and the 
 new convert the warmest friendship took place ; and his good lady, who 
 was indeed one of the first of women, became as warmly attached to 
 our family as her husband. They had been converted at the same 
 time ; and as new converts are always the most zealous, this good couple, 
 although advanced in years, used to rise at four in the morning, in the 
 depth of winter, and go round among the neighbours, in order to arouse 
 them in time to attend morning service, which was regularly at five 
 o'clock, winter and summer ; our house being in the way, they never 
 omitted calling upon us ; my father was not always well enough to 
 accompany them, but I never failed, and the delight they took in me 
 was great. Their family consisted of two sons, one older than myself, 
 and one of my own age, and two daughters younger than their broth- 
 ers : for a long season this family, and ours, spent at least a part of 
 every day together ; they met constantly at Church, and had bpside 
 many private interviews. Mr. Little, the name of our new friend, be- 
 longed to a class of which my father was the leader, and Mrs. Little to 
 my mother's band. The classes generally consisted of twelve, beside 
 the leader. The band was formed from the classes, and consisted of 
 six, beside the leader. These bands were composed of true believers, 
 and of one sex, and condition : The single women, the married wo- 
 men, and the widows, the single men, the married men, and the wid- 
 owers. My mother was a leader of a band of married women. The 
 youth, I have mentioned, of my own age, sought and obtained my con- 
 fidence ; I conceived for him the warmest affection, and I had every 
 reason to suppose the attachment mutual ; we passed many delightful 
 hours together, and the discovery of our friendship gave real satisfaction 
 to our parents. The eldest son adhered to the Church, the family had 
 left'; and the only daughter who was of age to decide, embraced the 
 principles of her parents. From our connexion with these worthy 
 
28 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 people, I derived great pleasure; I was much beloved by the principal*: 
 of the family, and I had great delight in the society of their children. 
 I have frequently retired with my young friend to read, and pray, we 
 had in fact no solitary pleasures. It was in the closet of this friend, that 
 I first became acquainted with Addison, Pope, Parnel, Thomson, 
 and Shakspeare ; we read those writings together, never shall I for- 
 get the avidity with which I seized, and the delight with which I pe- 
 rused those authors, I was beyond expression fascinated by their num- 
 bers ;" but I thought best carefully to conceal this new source of enjoy- 
 ment from my father. The library, to which I thus obtained free ac- 
 cess, was very extensive : besides the books already named, it contain- 
 ed much to attract a young mind ; novels, essays, and histories, by a 
 frequent perusal of which, I was both informed, and improved. Thus, 
 in the full enjoyment of sweet serenity, glided on many happy months ; 
 my time was divided between the habitation of my father, and his 
 friends ; I enjoyed the warm regards of every individual of this amiable 
 family, the eldest son excepted, nor was he a malignant foe ; he con- 
 tented himself with making a jest of our devotion, which only served to 
 attach us the more closely to each other : but, as the affection of the 
 youngest son grew for me, it appeared to diminish for his brother. 
 This fact rendered his parents unhappy, and I myself was seriously af- 
 flicted, lest I should be regarded either directly, or indirectly, as the 
 source of their inquietude. They, however, did not hesitate to impute 
 to their eldest son's aversion from religion every thing unpleasant be- 
 tween their children, and I had credit for my full share of that redtitudc, 
 and correct conduct, to which their youngest son was, by nature, so 
 uniformly inclined. It must, however, be confessed, that the first-born 
 was not without causes of irritation ; I was evidently the brother of his 
 brother's affection, I was the object of his parents' regard, his eldesl 
 sister discovered, on all occasions, a very strong partiality for me, and 
 even the youngest, a child of about six years old, made me the confi- 
 dant of all her little secrets, often hung about my neck, with infantile 
 fondness, while her sweet endearments were precious to my heart. It 
 was not then, I repeat, very wonderful, if the young gentleman, who 
 felt himself aggrieved, should become very unhappy, and very much my 
 enemy. While I was thus considered as a child of this family, a young 
 lady, a distant relation of Mrs. L'ttle, was introduced as a visitor; she 
 also was a Methodist, and of great piety. My young friend, and myself, 
 were in the parlour when she entered, but soon withdrew, when we 
 
LIFE OF KEY. JOHN MURRAY. 29 
 
 both agreed, she was the most ordinary young woman we had ever 
 beheld ; she was, I presume, more than twenty -five years of age, under 
 the common stature, of a very sallow complexion, large features, and a 
 disagreeable cast in her eye ; yet this same young lady had not been 
 more than three weeks under the same roof with us, before we both 
 became violently in love with her. Many days however elapsed, be- 
 fore either became acquainted with the passion of the other ; but t 
 could never conceal any thing long, especially from this my second self: 
 and on a summer evening, as we pursued our usual walk through a 
 flowery mead, on the margin of a beautiful river, both sadly pensive 
 and sighing, as if our hearts were breaking, my friend mournfully in- 
 quired : " What, my dear Murray, afflicts you ? why are you so sad ?" 
 I am ashamed of myself, I cannot tell you the cause of my distress. 
 " Not tell me ! would you, can you conceal any thing from me ?" I 
 felt the full force of a question , asked in a tone of endearing sympathy, 
 No, my friend, you shall be made acquainted with my whole heart, 
 I will have no reserves to you : but you, you also are unhappy, and 
 I am ignorant of the cause ! " Depend on it, I shall not hesitate to 
 give you every mark of confidence, when you shall set the example." 
 Well then, my brother, my friend, will you not wonder, (and indeed 
 I am myself astonished) when I assure you, that I have conceived for 
 Miss Dupee the strongest, and most tender passion ! He started, ap- 
 peared confused, and for some moments we both continued silent. 
 At length, taking my hand, he said : " I pity you from my soul, 'nor do 
 I blame your attachment ; for, however unattractive in person, who that 
 hears Miss Dupee converse, who that has any knowledge of her mind, 
 can avoid loving her, even as you love her ; and to prove to you how 
 fully I am qualified to sympathise with you, let me frankly own, that I 
 also love this charming woman." This unexpected avowal greatly 
 afflicted me, I trembled lest so strong a passion, for the same object, 
 should eventually prove fatal to our friendship. I expressed to this 
 dear, amiable youth my apprehensions, when he caught my hand, and 
 with glistening eyes, exclaimed : " Never, my brother, no never tliall 
 any thing separate between thee and me. By first communicating your 
 sentiments, you have acquired a prior right, which I will not, dare not 
 invade. No one else shall hear of my infant love, I will not allow 
 myself to see her, but when seated by your side ; and although I love 
 her more than any body I ever have, or, as I believe, ever shall see, I 
 never will be the cause of your unhappirfess." This generosity war 
 
 E 
 
JU LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 truly affecting. I caught him to my bosom, I wept, I even sobbed a* 
 I held him to my heart, and unable to bear his superiority, I exclaimed : 
 No, my noble-hearted friend, never will I accept such a sacrifice : 
 we are yet to learn for which of us her heavenly Father has designed 
 this treasure. Let us both, as occasion may occur, indulge ourselves 
 in her society, and should the event prove that you are the highly fa- 
 voured mortal, I hope, and believe, I shall willingly resign her, and 
 content myself with listening to her heavenly accents. And, truth to say, 
 she possessed a most enchanting voice ; a most fascinating manner, ad- 
 mirably calculated to gain hearts, especially young hearts, simple, and 
 softened by Religion ; and, what was above all bewitching, she sang 
 the most divine of Mr. Wesley's hymns in a most divinely impressive 
 manner. While, however, we were mutually acceding to this wise plan 
 for the disposal of Miss Dupee, it never once entered into our heads, 
 that she very possibly was not designed for either of us. Perhaps tew 
 youthful bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict between love, and 
 friendship : We experienced both in no common degree, but friendship 
 in both our hearts became triumphant. This amiable woman contin- 
 ued, for some time, decidedly the object of our deliberate election, but 
 I had, however, reason to believe my attachment the strongest, for it 
 deprived me of both rest, and appetite. For the first time, I began to 
 tag rhymes : I have sat by the hour together upon an eminence, whence 
 I could behold her habitation, poetizing, and sighing, as if my heart 
 would break ; I had some reason to believe she had discovered, and 
 was diverted with my passion ; indeed she must have laughed at me, 
 if she had not despised me. After a long struggle between my hopes, 
 and my fears, I ventured to address a letter to Miss Dupee, filled with 
 the warmest professions of eternal affection, and conjuring her, at least to 
 grant me leave to hope. I dared not entrust a domestic with this let- 
 ter, lest it should be discovered by my father, for the dread of meeting 
 a refusal from my mistress was not more terrible to my imagination, 
 than that my father should obtain knowledge of my temerity. One 
 night, therefore, returning from the society, with e r, and trembling, 
 I put my letter into her hand, humbly requesting she would honour it 
 witji a secret perusal. She took it, and, gypsey as she was, absolutely 
 pressed my hand, which pressure almost suffocated me with transport ; 
 I parted from her at the door, and from that moment neither slept, nor 
 eat, till I was cured, radically cured. It was upon a Wednesday night, 
 T delivered my letter : what did I not suffer from the torture of sus- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 31 
 
 pense, until Friday evening ; nothing could I hear of, or from her, I 
 was afraid to go to Mr. Little's, I feared every thing, but the thing I 
 had most reason to fear the contempt and indignation of my own 
 father. It never once entered my thoughts, that she would communi- 
 cate my letter to any one, and least of all, that she would expose me 
 to my father ; but instead of writing me an answer, such an answer as 
 my fond, foolish heart, sometimes ventured to expect, she inclosed my 
 very first love-letter to the very last person in the world to whom I 
 should have chosen to confide it ! 1 was at this time debilitated by 
 the want of rest and food, which, for the preceding fortnight, I had 
 rarely taken, and upon this Friday evening, as I entered the presence 
 of my father, an unusual dread pervaded my spirits. It is too true, I 
 never appeared before him, without apprehension ; but, upon this oc- 
 casion,! was unusually agitated : but how were my terrors augmented, 
 when my father, with a countenance of the most solemn indignation, 
 ordered me to approach. The season of castigation had gone by. 
 indeed my father was too feeble to administer corporeal chastisement, 
 but, like the Prince of Denmark, although he did not use daggers, he 
 could speak them he could look them. I cannot now remember who, 
 or rather how many, were present ; my mother, and my brothers and 
 sisters of course. My poor mother, I am confident, felt keenly for me, 
 although she dared not interfere. " Come hither, sir," said my father ; 
 " approach, I say." I drew near, with fear, and trembling, but yet I 
 knew not why : When, fixing his piercing, penetrating eyes upon me, 
 with a look of such sovereign contempt, as almost struck me blind, he 
 began very deliberately to search his pockets; after a pause,which seemed 
 interminable, out came a letter. I was instantaneously covered with 
 a most profuse perspiration ; I trembled and became so faint, that I 
 was obliged to catch at a chair for support. But my father continued 
 slowly opening the killing letter, and looking alternately at it, and its 
 author, and curling his nose, as if his olfactory nerve had been annoyed 
 by something extremely offensive, he again fixed his eyes upon me, and 
 tauntingly said : " So, you poor, foolish child, you write love-letters, do 
 you ! you want a wife, do you ?" and, feigning an attempt to read it, 
 but pretending inability, he extended it to me, saying : " Take it, thou 
 love-sick swain, and let us hear how thou addressest thy Dulcinea." I 
 burst into tears, but I confess they were tears of wrathful indignation, 
 and at that moment I detested the lady, my father, and myself. " Go," 
 continued my father, " Go, thou idle boy, depart instantly out of my 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 sight :" and out of his sight I accordingly went, almost wishing I might 
 never again appear before him. This night I parted with my passion 
 for Miss Dupee ; I sighed for an opportunity of opening my heart to m j 
 ever faithful friend, I expected consolation from him, and I was not 
 disappointed. Suspecting the business was the subject of conversation 
 in the house of Mr. Little, I determined to go thither no more : with 
 my friend, however, I took my usual walk ; he perceived the sadness of 
 my soul, but it was a consolation to me to learn, that he was ignorant 
 of the cause: I poured my grief into his bosom, and his indignation 
 was unbounded ; hatred for Miss Dupee grew in his soul, yet, when I 
 knew she had the goodness never to communicate my folly to any one, 
 but my father, and this in a private letter, I could not but esteem her. 
 So here rested the affair, and I wrote no more love-letters, until I ad- 
 dressed the lady whom I married. Though I was not by this torturing 
 business exempted from la belle passion, yet I was prevented by my 
 fears from its manifestation. In fact it was not until I was in a situa- 
 tion to make an election, as I supposed for life, that I was again con- 
 demned to struggle with a sentiment so imposing, as that which had 
 occasioned me so much vexation. Many fair faces attracted, and for 
 a time fixed my attention, and I sometimes looked forward to the 
 brightest, purest scenes of domestic felicity, which were however as 
 visionary, as could have been conceived in the pericranium of the most 
 confirmed lunatic. 
 
 The religious melancholy, so pleasing to my father, again took pos- 
 session of my mind ; once more at early dawn I haunted the church- 
 yard, frequently repeating to myself, 
 
 " The man how blest, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
 Is led by choice to take his favourite walk 
 Beneath death's gloomy, silent cypress shades, 
 To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
 Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs." 
 
 The intervening hours of public worship, on Sunday, were passed 
 by me at Church, in appropriate meditation and prayer : the solemn 
 stillness of the place aided my aspirations, and rendered me abundant- 
 ly more gloomy ; but the versatility of my disposition still gave me to 
 emerge, and I was then proportionably vivacious. In this zigzag 
 manner I proceeded, gaining something every day, while I enjoyed a 
 fine state of health, and the happiness of being much beloved by a large 
 circle of respectable connexions. I still continued to cultivate my gar- 
 den ; it was the best in the place, and being seen and admired by many. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 33 
 
 my pious brethren were apprehensive it would become my idol ; but 
 we all have our idols. Mr. Wesley was the idol of the many. One 
 evening at a love-feast, when the whole society were assembled, -a pious 
 sister, while narrating her experiences, looking earnestly at Mr. Wesley, 
 vehemently exclaimed : " O ! sir, I consider myself as much indebted 
 to God for you, as for Jesus Christ !" The whole company were 
 greatly surprised, and, as I believe, expected Mr. Wesley would have 
 reproved her for this speech ; but it passed, without any then expressed 
 observation. The ensuing day it became the subject of animadversion, 
 when I undertook to defend her, by remarking, that as she never could 
 have had any advantage from Jesus Christ, if she had never heard of, 
 and believed in him ; she certainly was as much indebted to Almighty 
 God for sending Mr. Wesley, through whom she obtained this re- 
 deeming knowledge, as for the Saviour, in whom she believed ! ! 
 
 My close connexion with my young friend, although very pleasant 
 to my social propensities, subjected me, nevertheless, to some pain. lie 
 was indulged with more pocket money, than I could command ; and 
 although he considered his stipend never so well employed, as when it 
 contributed to my convenience, yet, disliking dependence, I had re- 
 course to methods of obtaining money, which did not always please me ; 
 I sometimes borrowed, and sometimes solicited gifts from my mother, 
 which I did not find it easy to repay. It would have been well if 
 neither my companion, nor myself, had been in the habit of spending 
 money ; we derived therefrom no advantage ; it introduced us into 
 company, where we were apt to forget ourselves ; it is true we were 
 never inebriated, but we were often gay, and, for religious character?, 
 too much offour guard. This dear youth was not, like me, habi uated 
 to religion, he was not early disciplined by its most rigid laws ; I could 
 with abundantly more facility turn aside with him, than he could pur- 
 Sue with me the narrow path, in which I had generally walked. We 
 became gradually too fond of pleasures, which would not bear examin- 
 ation ; yet they were such as the world denominated innocent, although 
 they strongly impelled us to gratifications disallowed by Religion. We 
 were now fast advancing in life, and, with all the enthusiasm of youth, 
 we were planning schemes for futurity, when lo ! my precious, my 
 early friend, was seized by a malignant fever, which soon deprived him 
 of his reason. I was on the verge of distraction, I. entreated permission 
 to tarry constantly by his bedside ; the progress of the disease was 
 astonishingly rapid, and in a few days this dear, this amiable youth. 
 
34 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 whom I loved as my own soul, expired in a strong delirium ! Every 
 one regretted the departure of this young man, every one sympathised 
 with his parents, and many extended pity to me. I was indeed beyond 
 expression wretched ; it was the first calamity of the kind, which I had 
 ever been called to suffer, and my agonies were in full proportion to 
 the strong affection, which I had conceived for the deceased. Society 
 no longer possessed a charm for me, and yet the parents of the dear 
 departed never willingly permitted me to quit their presence ; indeed, 
 the love, they had borne their son, seemed to be entirely transferred to 
 .me ; but their sufferings were incalculably augmented, when, in a few- 
 succeeding weeks, their eldest, and only surviving son, fell a victim to 
 the same fatal malady, which had deprived them of his brother ! Never 
 before did I witness such sad, and heart-affecting sorrow : a gloomy 
 Religion is always increased by scenes of melancholy, hence the horrors 
 of my mind were beyond description. Every thing I had done, every 
 word I had uttered, not strictly conformable to the rule of right, re- 
 turned upon my mind with redoubled terror, and in the midst of these 
 agonizing fears, I was violently seized by the same fever, which had 
 destroyed my friend. I was, upon the first appearance of this mortal 
 disease, exceedingly alarmed, but in a few hours it prostrated my rea- 
 son ; my mother appeared to me as a stranger, and although I recog- 
 nised my father, I was not afraid of him. I understood every thing 
 which was said by those about me, and I suffered much in consequence 
 of their expressed apprehensions and predictions : and I have often 
 thought, that attendants in the chamber of sickness do not sufficiently 
 consider the situation of the suffering patient, or the possibility, that the 
 freedom ot their remarks may augment his depression. I continued to 
 linger, in the midst of extreme torture, through many weeks ; and so 
 high, and unremitted was my delirium, that my parents, from a persua- 
 sion that, should I be restored to health, my reason was forever lost, 
 were reconciled to my departure. One particular I consider as aston- 
 ing ; every thing, which passed in my mind through the whole of this 
 protracted delirium, I can, to this day, recollect as well as any event, 
 which has taken place in any part of my life. Contrary to the expec- 
 tations of surrounding friends, I was gradually restored to perfect health, 
 when I became still more endeared to the parents of my deceased 
 companion ; they would have laid me in their bosoms, gladly cher- 
 ishing me as the son of their affection. The old gentleman visited my 
 father every day, and his lady was equally intimate with my mother. 
 
f. 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 35 
 
 1 wept with them, I prayed with them, and every day our mutual at- 
 tachment acquired new energy. They expressed their wishes to my 
 father, that I should become a permanent resident in their family. My 
 father, apparently terrified, was unqualified in his rejection ! It would 
 injure me by too high-raised expectations, it would give me indulgences, 
 fatal to my future peace, and happiness. For myself, I had recently 
 entertained an exalted opinion of my father ; and for his repeated, and, 
 as I once believed, severe chastisements, gratitude glowed in my bosom ; 
 consequently I was not inclined to act contrary to his "wishes in any 
 respect, and he had sufficient address to avoid offending his friends. In 
 fact, so exalted was their opinion of his wisdom, and piety, that they 
 would have considered it criminal to censure him. 
 
 I was now the very shadow of my father ; I visited, it is true ; But it 
 was always under his guardian care. He began to derive pleasure from 
 conversing with me, and our satisfaction was mutual j still, however, I 
 experienced, in his presence, more of reverential awe, than filial tender- 
 ness ; yet I gained more from his society in the last six months of his 
 existence, than 1 had for many preceding years. His gradual decline, 
 at length, rapidly advanced ; suddenly he became too much enfeebled to 
 go abroad ; his friends, who were numerous, visited him frequently. 
 Mr. Little, and lady, were almost constantly with him : they congratu- 
 lated him, that God had heard his prayers, and given him a son to sup- 
 ply his place, when he should be called home ; this, indeed, he consid- 
 ered as a great consolation. Often with tears of pleasure has he wept 
 over me, solemnly consecrating me by fervent prayer, and devout sup- 
 plication. His devotional exercises, in his amily, were continued until 
 the last week of his existence ; even when his voice was so low, that 
 he could scarce articulate a word, we were drawn around him, when 
 in whispers, as it were, he would, in the most moving manner, address 
 the throne of grace in our behalf; and for me, as his first-born son, his 
 orisons were still more frequently offered up, and always with tears. 
 For many years my father had lost his apprehensions of death ; but he 
 always suffered more or less in the dfead of dying. The taking down 
 the house of his earthly tabernacle, 1 the agonies of dissolving nature, 
 these anticipations frequently appalled his soul. We had got into pas- 
 sion week ; my father was taken from his bed every day, until Good 
 Friday, when it was impressed upon his mind, that he should be with 
 his Redeemer upon Easter Sunday, He indirectly communicated 
 this assurance to my mother : commanding me to be immediately sum- 
 
36 LIVE OF KEY. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 moned to his presence, when he thus addressed me : " My son, the 
 object of my soul's affection, for whom, during many years, I have 
 wept and prayed, you see your weeping, praying father, now totally 
 unable to utter a prayer, nor shall I ever pray in this dear family again. 
 Let me, my dear, before I leave you, have the felicity of seeing, and 
 hearing you take upon you the character you will very speedily be 
 called to sustain ; let me hear you pray in the family, before I depart. 
 There was something terrible in the thought of his departure, though 
 we had for many years been taught to expect it, not only by his declin- 
 ing health, but by his conversation, which had rendered us familiar with 
 death. I cannot remember a day, on which he did not, on his first 
 appearance in his family of a morning, say, " blessed be God, we are 
 one day nearer our eternal rest :" yet the thought of assuming his place 
 in his family, in his presence ; this \vas more terrible to me, than death 
 itself. I became convulsed, a cold perspiration was diffused over my 
 frame ; my father saw my agony, and bidding me sit down, took my 
 hand, and addressing me in the language of sympathy, most affection- 
 ately, most tenderly said ; " you have, my poor boy, often addressed 
 your heavenly Father, and have not felt abashed : ought you to vener- 
 ate your feeble, earthly father, more than the God who made you ? At 
 the throne of grace I am upon a level with my son, and I need redeem- 
 ing mercy as much as yourself. Let me, my dear child, be blessed with 
 the privilege of seeing, and hearing you, in your new, and highly re- 
 sponsible character, this night." I was dumb, I could not speak : my 
 mother was requested to summon the family. " Come," said my father, 
 " come near me, my children. God is about to remove from you your 
 father, your supplicating father ; but my God, your God, will never 
 leave you, nor forsake you. He will give you, in your brother, a friend, 
 a guide, a father ; you must consider him, when I am gone, as in my 
 stead ; you will unite with him in prayer, you will follow his direction, 
 and God will abundantly bless you together. My prayers on his be- 
 half are graciously answered ; they will, my beloved children, be an- 
 swered on your behalf also ; for HE, who hath promised, is faithful, 
 your father hath proved HIM faithful. Our God is indeed worthy to be 
 trusted, HIS service is perfect freedom; serve the Lord, my children, 
 and be happy ; obey your dear mother, strengthen the hands of your 
 brother, and felicity will be your portion." He would have proceeded, 
 but weakness prevented ; recovering himself, he called upon me to 
 make good his expectations ; I kneeled down by his bedside in con- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 37 
 
 vulsive agony, my mother kneeling upon the opposite side ; my broth- 
 ers and sisters forming a circle which surrounded it, while the domes- 
 tics kneeled near us. I prayed, I wept, I audibly sobbed : while my, 
 only not divine, father, was in ecstacy. When I had finished, " Now, 
 O Lord," he exclaimed. " let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
 have seen, for my ears have heard, for my heart has felt, thy salvation. 
 Come near me, my darling boy." Instantly I ran, and again I kneeled by 
 his bedside ; he drew my head to his bosom, he wept over me, but his 
 tears were tears of transport, when, laying his dying hand upon my 
 head, he thus fervently supplicated : " O thou, Almighty God, who 
 hath thus blessed, greatly blessed thy poor servant : Thou who hast 
 been my God, and my guide, even unto death, bless, oh 1 bless this 
 son, with whom thou hast blessed thy feeble supplicant : Give him 
 thy supporting presence through life, direct him in the way he should 
 go, and never leave him, nor forsake him : Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 thou covenant- keeping God, bless, bless, O ! bless this lad " Here his 
 heart swelled too big for utterance ; after a few moments, recovering 
 himself a little, he mildly requested me to place him properly in his 
 bed. x I was beyond measure shocked to see what a skeleton he had 
 become, his bones in many places through his skin. It was my wish 
 to tarry with him through the night, but I could not obtain permission. 
 " Go, my dear son," said he, " go to rest, and the God of your fathers 
 be ever with you." This was the last time I ever heard his voice ; be- 
 fore the morning dawned, I was summoned to attend not a dying,' but 
 a deceased parent, whose value, until that agonizing moment, I had 
 never sufficiently appreciated. My mother continued by his bedside, 
 overwhelmed by sorrow ; the slumbers of my father were sweet, 
 calm, and unbroken, until near midnight, when she perceived he was 
 awake, and believing him to be speaking, she inclined her ear to his 
 lips, and heard him say, while his heart, his full heart, seemed nearly 
 bursting : " The souls of believers are at their death made perfectly 
 holy, and do immediately pass into glory ; but their bodies, being still 
 united to Christ, do rest in their graves till the resurrection." After a 
 pause, he resumed : " At the resurrection, they shall be openly ac- 
 knowledged, and acquitted in the day of judgment, and made perfectly 
 blessed in the full enjoyment of God through eternity : Blessed, per- 
 fectly bless ." Blessed he would have said, but he breathed no more. 
 When I approached the bed of death, 1 beheld the remains of the do- 
 parted saint, precisely in the position in which a few hours before I 
 
38 1IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 had placed him. Not a single struggle had the dear, apprehensive maa, 
 during those expiring moments, which, through his whole life, he had 
 expected would be productive of such extreme torture. He slept in 
 Jesus, in full confidence of a glorious Resurrection. 
 
 From this hour, until the interment, our house was thronged ; but of 
 all our numerous friends, who by their presence expressed their sympa- 
 thy, no individuals appeared more deeply affected than my future pat- 
 rons, Mr. and Mrs. Little. My father was very dear to Mr. Little ; 
 he mingled his tears with the widow, and her orphans. It was unnec- 
 essary to tell me I had sustained an irreparable loss, my heart, my 
 pierced heart, was every moment making the avowal ; I could now ful- 
 ly appreciate my father's worth ; I felt I was bereaved, miserably be- 
 reaved ; left to myself, and I knew myself well enough to justify the 
 most spirit- wounding apprehensions. I retired to my chamber, to my 
 closet, secretly indulging my overwhelming sorrow, and if I ever ex- 
 perienced the fervour of devotion, it was then, when, throwing abroad 
 my supplicating hands, I petitioned the God of my father to be my 
 God also, entreating that he would graciously vouchsafe to preserve me 
 from myself, my sinful self: all the hard, undutiful reflections, which I 
 had secretly tolerated against this good, this honoured man, while he 
 was enduring exquisite sufferings for the purpose of preserving me from 
 evil, rushed upon my recollection, and an innate monitor seemed to 
 say: " You may now, ungrateful boy, go where you please ; the prying 
 eye of a father will no more inspect your conduct." It was now, in 
 these moments of torture, that my father, as it should seem, first be- 
 came known to me. It is true, he was severely good, his conscience 
 was indeed sorely tender ; but, as far as he knew, he performed the will 
 of God, at least in as great a measure as he was able, and when he be- 
 lieved himself deficient, as he almost always did, it gave him great pain. 
 The uniform sanctity of his life commanded the respect, the esteem, 
 the affection, and even the veneration of all who knew him. He pos- 
 sessed an uncommon share of natural abilities, and his acquirements 
 were very respectable. He had read much ; History, Natural Philoso- 
 phy, Poetry, these were all familiar to him ; but the sacred Scriptures, 
 and books of devotion, were his delight. Human productions con- 
 stituted his amusement, but the word of his God was his food. He 
 was so acute a reasoner, that it was difficult to gain any advantage over 
 him in argument; yet he was easily piovoked, but immediately sensible 
 of error ; every deviation from propriety was marked by tears. He 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 39 
 
 had so much self-command, as never to strike a child in a passion, this 
 he denominated a demoniac sacrifice ; he would first correct the an- 
 gry man : but however painful the act, he never omitted what he con- 
 ceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very tender-hearted man, and 
 his piayers were rarely unaccompanied by tears. He mourned with 
 the mourner, for he was himself a man of sorrow. Being for the last 
 nineteen years of his life a confirmed invalid, he was constantly, and 
 fervently looking toward his heavenly home sometimes with impa- 
 tience, when, correcting himself, he would say, " Well, well, Heaven 
 is worth waiting for : one hour, passed in the courts of my God, will 
 be a rich remuneration for all terrestrial sufferings." 
 
 It is the custom in Ireland, when any person of distinction or re- 
 spectability is called out of time, to watch around their remains, night 
 as well as day, until the body be entombed. The remains of my fath- 
 er were affectionately attended, but they were attended in an uncom- 
 mon manner ; as he differed from others in life, so these last honours 
 differed from those usually bestowed. The morning immediately suc- 
 ceeding his demise, our friends and neighbours assembled in our dwel- 
 ling, when Mr. Little thus addressed them : " My friends, it hath 
 pleased God to take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother; as he 
 lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence ; we know, vrefeel, that he has 
 not left his equal. We unite with this dear family in sensibly lament- 
 ing the departure of our experienced friend, our guide, our comforter." 
 Here he mingled his tears with those of our attendant friends. After a 
 long pause, he proceeded : " Fellow mourners, the greatest respect we 
 can pay to the remains of our inestimable, our heavenly guide, is to 
 pass our time together in this house of mourning, not for him, but for 
 ourselves, in the way which would be most pleasing to him, were he 
 present ; we will therefore appropriate our hours to reading, and to 
 prayer. One of our brethren will address the throne of grace, after 
 which I will read a sermon, the production of Mr. Erskine, of whose 
 writings the dear departed was remarkably fond." The prayer, the 
 sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected every one ; and the 
 evening witnessed a renewal of these pious exercises. Thus were our 
 nights and days devoted, until the interment. On that day the throng 
 was prodigious. *The worth, the good actions of my father, were the 
 theme of many a tongue ; his praises were echoed, and re-echoed, 
 while tears of sorrow moistened many an eye. Every one bore in his, 
 or her hand, to the grave-yu. t, a sprig of bays, which, after the body 
 
40 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 was deposited, was thrown over the coffin. But no word.s can describe 
 my agonizing, my terrific sensations, when I reflected upon the charge 
 which had devolved upon me. I remembered my father's words, on 
 the evening preceding his exit, and I felt myself reduced to the neces- 
 sity of assuming his place in the family ; but how much was I to suf- 
 fer by comparison with him, whose place I was appointed to fill : yet, 
 had T wished to avoid entering upon my office, my mother, the friends 
 of my father, would have borne testimony against me. They throng- 
 ed around me, they entreated me immediately to take charge of the 
 family, and to commence my arduous task by devout supplications to 
 Almighty God. I complied with their united wishes ; but no tongue 
 can utter, no language can delineate the strong emotions of my soul : 
 again I was convulsed, again I agonized ; the whole family were inex- 
 pressibly affected. It was the most melancholy evening I had ever ex- 
 perienced ; but my benighted spirit was suddenly refreshed, by a ray 
 of consolation, emitted by the cheering hope, that my father's God would 
 be my God, and that the fervent prayers he had offered up, in my be- 
 half, would be answered in my favour. I was encouraged too by my 
 mother, and by the friends of my father, who besought the Lord in my 
 behalf, and who were daily reminding me of the interest, which my de- 
 ceased parent unquestionably had with the prayer-hearing God. 
 
 Yet, although soothed, and greatly stimulated, my new employment 
 continued to distress, and appal my spirit. The conviction of every 
 day assured me, that I was unequal to the arduous task I had under- 
 taken. My mother was my ever-ready aid and counsellor ; but my 
 brothers and sisters always remembered, that I was not their father ; 
 and they were highly displeased, whenever I presumed to exercise 
 over them paternal authority ; yet this I believed to be my duty, and, 
 that I might be in every thing like my father, I took up the rod of cor- 
 rection, seriou3ly chastising my brother, for the purpose of restoring 
 him to the narrow path, from which he had wandered. But, although 
 I had learned of my father to use the rod, I never could make it answer 
 the same purpose ; in my hand, it only served to increase the evil, it 
 became the signal of revolt ; and, while my brother continued incorrigi- 
 ble, my other brothers, and my sisters, enlisted on his side. My mother, 
 dear honoured sufferer, was exceedingly distressed ; she had in fact a 
 difficult part to act ; she was fearful, whichever side she might espouse, 
 would, by creating new irritation, make bad, worse, and yet, upon an 
 occasion ^o interesting, we would not allow her to be silent, she must 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 41 
 
 positively attend to our appeals. But however arduous her task, she 
 possessed discretion sufficient to meet it, and to produce an ultimatum 
 completely satisfactory to all parties. 
 
 She replied to our remonstrances, by a request to be allowed until 
 the evening, succeeding our complaints, for serious deliberation. The 
 interesting evening came. " Come, my children, all equally dear to my 
 soul: come, the doors are now shut ; this is the time of evening ser- 
 vice. There is the chair, which your pious, your aiFectionate father, 
 once filled. Can you not remember the last time he addressed you 
 from that seat. Let me, my dear children, let me repeat, as well as 
 my memory will permit, what he said to us the last time he addressed 
 ns from that chair. " Come," said he, " come near me, my children," 
 when, folding his arms around your elder brother, and pressing him to 
 his bosom, while shedding over him abundance of tears, and pouring 
 out his soul in supplication for him, he most affectingly said : " I am, 
 my dear child, hastening to that heaven, for which I have so long wait- 
 ed. For you, ever since you were born, I have wept and prayed ; 
 graciously hath my God inclined his ear to the voice of my supplica- 
 tion. He hath blessed me, by giving me to see you, before I die, pre- 
 pared, by divine favour, to take my place ; I leave you iny dear son, 
 to act a father's part, when I shall be here no more ; let your mother, 
 your brothers, and your sisters, receive from you that attention, and 
 care, they can no more obtain from me ; but, although I shall be no 
 more with you, your God, your father's God, will never leave nor for- 
 sake you. Nay, my own beatified spirit may obtain increasing felicity, 
 by being sometimes permitted to behold the order, and harmony of my 
 beloved family, while collected before the throne of grace, with the 
 love of God, and love of each other, glowing with divine ecstacy in 
 every bosom." It was then, my precious children, that your devout 
 father clasped you separately to his bosom ; you remember how he 
 then spake to you : " I go, my beloved children ; you will no more 
 hear my voice from this chair : 1 shall no more be able to pray with 
 you, to advise, or to direct you. But, iny children, I leave with you a 
 brother, who will perform to you the part of a father ; I leave him in 
 my place ; it is my command, that he tread in my steps, as far as 1 have 
 proceeded in the path of justice ; and, my dear children, I conj;u\ \ru 
 to attend to his directions. The eldest son was, of old, the priest in 
 the family of his father ; and if you love me, if you love your mother, 
 if you would prove vour love to God, or even to your-clves. contribute 
 
42 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 all in your power to strengthen the hands of your brother." You re- 
 member he then embraced eacli of you, and wept over you ; and I 
 pray you to remember, that you then solemnly promised, to perform 
 all which your dying father directed you to perform. Perhaps the 
 saint may be at this moment beholding us, in this very spot, in 
 which, a few days previous to his departure out of time, he so affecting- 
 ly, so tenderly admonished us " My mother paused, as if influ- 
 enced by sacred awe of the presence she had supposed. We audibly 
 wept ; we rushed into each other's arms, we embraced each other, and 
 so long as we continued together, our affection, our piety, and our 
 devotion were uninterrupted. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 -Record continued, until the Author s Departure from Ireland. 
 
 Launched from the shore, on life's rough ocean tost, 
 To my swol'n eye my star of guidance lost ; 
 Torn, from my grasp, my path-directing helm, 
 While waves, succeeding waves, my prospects whelm. 
 
 IjTVY the malpractices of the second husband of my maternal grand- 
 mother, a large share of my mother's patrimony passed into other 
 hands. I accidentally obtained intelligence of some fraudulent pro- 
 ceedings of the great personage, by whom it was then holden. We 
 did not possess ability to support a prosecution for the recovery of our 
 rights. Some time after the demise of my father, the person, who re- 
 sided upon the estate, was sued for rent ; to this person I communicat- 
 ed in confidence, what I knew to be fact. I assured him, the great 
 man, who retained the estate, had no legal claim to it ; and I advised 
 him not to pay the rent. He followed my advice, and the business came 
 before a court of judicature. The gentleman, who sued the tenant, 
 summoned me, as a witness, to prove, that the tenant had occupied the 
 house the specified number of years ; thus I wai unexpectedly present 
 at the trial, and the interference of providence produced a result, far 
 beyond our most sanguine expectations. The tenant denied the right 
 of the landlord to demand the rent, alleging, that if he paid it to him, 
 he might hereafter be compelled to pay it to another. " To whom ?" 
 interrogated the court. " To Mrs. Murray and her children, to whom 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 43 
 
 the estate in question properly belongs." I was then called upon for 
 an explanation, and I boldly pledged myself to prove the truth of the 
 testimony delivered by the tenant ; adding that I could make such a 
 statement, as would render the affair abundantly clear to their Honours. 
 I was immediately silenced, by the lawyers upon the opposite side, 
 who produced a deed of the contested property, signed, sealed, and 
 delivered ; I then requested the indulgence of the honourable court, 
 while I observed, that, as I was not sufficiently opulent to procure 
 eouncil, I presumed to solicit permission to plead my own cause. Full 
 consent was unhesitatingly granted ; when I proved, to the satisfaction 
 of the court, and jury, that this deed was signed, after the death of the 
 husband of my grandmother ; and farther, that, had the man been liv- 
 ing, the right of disposal was not vested in him. I consumed a full 
 hour and a half, in unfolding a scene of wickedness, not to be defend- 
 ed ; and I closed, by grateful acknowledgments to their honours, for 
 the patience they had exercised. The jury retired, and speedily re- 
 turned with a verdict in favour of the tenant. I immediately entered 
 my claim, and a trial commenced, which terminated in my favour ; and 
 I not only obtained the house in question, but two others, in like cir- 
 cumstances, to the no small satisfaction of the public, and the mortifi- 
 cation of the great man, and his lawyers. We immediately took pos- 
 session of the house ; and our utmost gratitude to that God, who had 
 interposed for us, was most powerfully excited. Here I had a very 
 large, and, in no long time, a very well improved garden ; abounding 
 with everything useful, and beautiful ; herbs, fruits, and flowers, in 
 great abundance ; and my situation was fully adequate to my wishes. 
 Harmony presided in our family ; but, alas ! gradually, as by common 
 consent, we grew more careless of our domestic duties, and more atten- 
 tive to public affairs : deriving a kind of amusement from what was 
 passing abroad, which we could not obtain at home. We had many 
 visitors, and consequently we frequently visited ; yet no individuals 
 were so dear to us, as were Mr. Little, and his amiable family. I have 
 repeatedly observed, that both Mr. Little, and his lady, had, from the 
 death of their sons, regarded me even with parental affection ; I was 
 only not an inmate in their dwelling ; and but for the charge, which the 
 demise of my father had devolved upon me, they would not so long 
 have delayed proposals, which, in a most serious manner, they ulti- 
 mately made to my mother. Mr. Little was rather advanced in years ; 
 he commenced his career without property, but he was prudent, and 
 
1 \ 1-IFF. OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 industrious ; his lady was equally so : she brought her husband no 
 more than one hundred pounds sterling, but she was a portion in her- 
 self. Although uncommonly economical, and careful, her charities 
 were yet very extensive ; she could assist, she observed, the children of 
 penury, without loss ; for her resource was her own augmented indus- 
 try. When this amiable couple became known to us, they possessed 
 immense wealth ; and they had now but two surviving children 
 daughters. We were passing a pleasant evening in their hospitable 
 dwelling, throwing the eye of retrospection over past scenes, until our 
 hearts were greatly softened. The departed sons, the deceased hus- 
 band, and father, passed in review ; and were alternately the subjects 
 of conversation, and regret. At length, Mr. Little thus addressed us : 
 " I have lost my sons, and I have long viewed you, my young friend, 
 in the stead of my buried children : It is true, I have many nephews, 
 and I am urgently solicited, to receive one of them under my roof ; 
 but I do not feel a freedom so to do, although I must absolutely have 
 some one to assist me in the arrangement of my affairs : and I now 
 tender to you, my dear young man, to you, who have so long been be- 
 loved by every individual of my family ; I offer to you, the place of a 
 son in my house, in my heart. And if you, madam, will consent ; and 
 your son, thus sanctioned, will accept my proposal, he shall immedi- 
 ately take possession of the apartment of his deceased friend (my la- 
 mented son,) and I shall bless God for thus making up my loss." 
 Mrs. Little, who sat by bathed in tears, most cordially united her solic- 
 itations : the offer was too great to be rejected, we accepted it ^\ ith 
 becoming gratitude, and, what rendered a proposal so liberal abundant- 
 ly more pleasing, was an appearance, on the part of our benefactors, ot 
 having received, instead of conferred an obligation. I attended my 
 mother home, with mingled sensations of pain, and pleasure ; pain 
 from the consideration, that I was leaving a family, which I had been 
 accustomed to view as, in a very tender sense, my own ; and with 
 which I should never perhaps in like manner again associate ; pleasure, 
 from the reflection, that I was entering upon a new scene of life, from 
 which I had a prospect, not only of independence, but affluence. It is 
 true, upon my departure, which took place upon the succeeding morn- 
 ing, I wept bitterly, so did my widowed mother, and her children ; 
 and my tears again flowed, upon entering the apartments of my dear 
 young friend, with whom 1 had passed so many pleasing hours. But, 
 received by my new parents, and sisters, as the dearest of sons, and as 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAV. 45 
 
 the brother of their affection. Joy soon exhilirated ray spirits, and 
 brightened upon my countenance ; I had the warm congratulations of 
 all my friends, for it was noised abroad, that this very opulent gentle- 
 man had adopted me as his son, and they went so far as to add, his 
 son, and heir. All this was very pleasing to me, but the kindred of 
 Mr. Little, were of course, highly irritated, and I became so much the 
 object of their envy, and their hatred, that, whenever they visited their 
 uncle, without deigning to speak to me, they studiously sought oppor- 
 tunities of insulting me. This gave me pain, but it did me no real in- 
 jury ; for, upon every instance of invidious conduct toward me, my 
 parental friends, and their family, especially their daughters, studiously 
 augmented their testimonies of esteem and affection. 
 
 After I had passed some months with Mr. Little, he was visited by 
 a young preacher, just entering the sacerdotal character, to whom I 
 was much attached, and our friendship was mutual ; I was prevailed 
 upon by this preacher, to accompany him upon a little journey ; I de- 
 parted with the sanction of my patron. I had, in the societies with 
 which I Ijad been connected, occasionally exhorted ; and I had been 
 frequently urged by several of their preachers to aid them in their la- 
 bours. Upon this journey I was, if I may so express myself, absolute- 
 ly ensnared ; accompanying my friend to the assembled congregation, 
 with an expectation of hearing him, he put his arm under mine, and 
 helping me to ascend the temporary pulpit, erected for the occasion, 
 he suddenly quitted me, and I was in a manner constrained to speak 
 to the multitude. Thus, for the first time, I preached to a large con- 
 course of serious and attentive hearers, in publick ; and, although at 
 the appointed time I returned to my much-loved home, I continued, 
 as opportunity offered, from that time forward, preaching whenever I 
 journeyed, and even at home, when necessitated by the absence of the 
 preacher. This made some noise in our little world ; but, as it was not 
 displeasing to my honoured friends, I was not dissatisfied. My in- 
 veterate enemies, however, being the nearest relations of the family in 
 which I resided, were constantly endeavouring to undermine my inter- 
 est in the heart of their kiiisman. I was to pass some time in a neigh- 
 bouring city, and to render my visit more pleasing, my patron, at my 
 departure, furnished me with a sum of money ; this sum I carelessly 
 put into my pocket, without examination, until calling in my w r ay, 
 upon my mother, I discovered, that my patron had, as I supposed^ 
 made a capital mistake ; that he had given me gold, instead of silver. 
 G 
 
46 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 I mentioned this circumstance to my mother, in presence of one of her 
 neighbours ; and without announcing my design, I immediately re- 
 turned home, for the purpose of rectifying the error. Upon my unex- 
 pected appearance before Mr. Little, with information of his mistake, 
 he smiled, and said, that he never kept kis gold and silver together. 
 " It was my design," said he, " to give you gold, but I advise you not 
 to throw it away." I pursued my journey, and passed my time agreea- 
 bly ; but whether I threw away the bounty of my benelactor, I do not, 
 at this period, recollect, I only know that I brought not a shilling home 
 with me : In fact, I was never sufficiently sensible of the value of mo- 
 ney, to retain it in my possession. I was received, on my return from 
 this visit, with uncommon pleasure ; and some time alter, my kind pat- 
 ron, taking me into his private apartment, thus addressed me : " I need 
 not, my dear, inform you, that you have many enemies, and I regret to 
 say, that those enemies are among my nearest relatives ; but, continuing 
 in the paths of rectitude, you will be beyond the reach of their most 
 malignant calumnies. Soon after you left home the other day, the 
 clergyman, who has recently become the husband of my niece, called 
 upon me, requesting a private audience ; and when retired into this 
 room, he observed, that he conceived himself in duty bound to ap- 
 prize me, that I was not sufficiently acquainted with the character of 
 the person I had adopted ; that he was not honest ; that he had obtained 
 money from me, to which he had no right. " You gave him, sir, as 
 you believed, some pieces of silver, but upon examination they proved 
 to be guineas ; this fact I can prove ; and if he could thus act, what 
 may he not do ?" I told this officious gentleman, that I had really in- 
 tended to give you gold ; but that you, conceiving I had made a mis- 
 take, forbore to appropriate the money, and speedily returned home, for 
 the purpose of making the communication. Our clergyman departed, 
 and you will easily conceive, not a little humbled. I mention this cir- 
 cumstance to you, my son, to put you upon your guard. It is my 
 wish, that, in future, you should not be so communicative." This lit- 
 tle anecdote was exultingly repeated to me by the good lady, and her 
 daughters, who never failed triumphantly to report every little occur- 
 rence, which they believed would contribute, either to my pleasure, or 
 my reputation. 
 
 My establishment in this family rendered me an object of envy, even 
 among some of my religious connexions. Objections were raised 
 against my supposed erroneous sentiments ; I was more than suspected 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 47 
 
 of retaining my father's Calvinistic doctrines. Mr. Wesley received in- 
 formation against me. He set a watch over me ; thus fixing upon me 
 the evil eye of suspicion. A maiden sister, considerably advanced in 
 years, became a dependent resident in the family of her brother. Her 
 character was marked by duplicity, and she delighted in mischief. The 
 tales she propagated were as various, as the parties which listened to 
 her narrations ; and all her communications were made under the ) 
 strict seal of secrecy. Young, and unsuspecting, I found it difficult 
 to encounter enemies of such opposite descriptions. I had some 
 friends, of whose affection I doubted not ; with these friends I passed 
 much time, and I communicated to them every thing, and they, in 
 their turn, communicated every thing to me ; while many circum- 
 stances, thus confided, were, to rny great astonishment, in circulation ! 
 My situation became uneasy to me ; I was fond of being in company 
 abroad, this was very disagreeable to my friends at home ; they expected 
 in me a friend and companion, who would, by reading and conversa- 
 tion, give to their fireside new charms ; and both parents, and daughters, 
 were mortified and disappointed. Mr. Little expressed his disappro- 
 bation of my frequent absences. I was hurt, Mrs. Little shed tears, 
 and entreated me to change my conduct. " You have," said she, " in 
 this wide world no such friends, as we are disposed to prove ourselves : 
 you will be abundantly more happy at home, than you can be abroad. 
 You should supply to us the place of our deceased children : we ex- 
 pect consolation from your society. You are greatly beloved in this 
 house ; your enemies are not under this roof. For God's sake, i f 
 you have any regard for us, if you have any regard for any of your 
 friends, if you would secure your own happiness, or the happiness of 
 your mother, do not thus conduct." Thus, with many entreaties, did 
 this dear, affectionate lady, endeavour to arrest my wanderings ; and, 
 while attending to her friendly lecture ., my best resolutions were in 
 full force ; and I determined never to offend again. But going out to 
 meeting, one, and another, of my religious connexions would take me 
 by the arm ; I could not avoid engagements ; and when I returned 
 home, every individual of the family, Miss Little excepted, had fre- 
 quently retired to rest. The good girl waited to apprize me of her 
 father's displeasure. Much did she expostulate ; and her expostula- 
 tions were not always unmingled with tears. My mother was rendered 
 extremely wretched ; I saw the gathering storm, but I had not suffi- 
 cient fortitude to abide its ravages. My enemies derived consolation 
 
48 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 from my indiscretion, and my infelicities daily augmented. Whenever 
 I was censured, I was rendered more abundantly unhappy ; and I form- 
 ed a serious resolution to quit both the family of Mr. Little, and the 
 country, and to seek an asylum in my native place England. For 
 many days I continued obdurate, no remonstrances could influence me; I 
 must absolutely commence a traveller I must go to England. I had 
 no object, yet I must depart for England I could not tell why, indeed. 
 It was believed. I was distracted. What, relinquish fortune, and such 
 connexions, and such a prospect ? for it was generally believed, that I 
 was to be united in marriage with Miss Little. Nay, her father was in- 
 formed, by his kindred, that I was absolutely clandestinely seeking to 
 gain the affection of the young lady ; and that they believed I was already 
 in possession of her heart. But Mr. Little gave no credit to this report ; 
 he knew, that my evenings were passed abroad, and that this was the 
 only source of dissatisfaction. It happened, however, one evening, 
 when I had been out late, and he, according to custom, retired to rest, 
 I found, on my return home, Miss Little waiting in the parlour, for the 
 purpose of making a communication, which she conceived would be of 
 consequence to me. We sat some time in a conversation, by which we 
 w^re mutually interested ; she made known to me the invidious remarks 
 of her uncles, and aunts, and their displeasure at her, for not uniting 
 with them in their sentiments ; she dwelt upon the grief, which my in- 
 attention to the wishes of her parents occasioned them ; and, upon 
 this part of her subject, she became affected even to tears. I also was 
 greatly affected, and for the first time in my life, taking her hand, I 
 impressed upon it a kiss of fraternal affection ; when to our great as- 
 tonishment, her father entered the apartment. Had we seen a spectre, 
 we could not have been more appalled. He stood for some moments 
 gpeechless, until fixing his eyes indignantly on my face, which was 
 certainly covered with confusion, in a very pointed and significant 
 manner, he said, " So, sir ;" and, taking his daughter by the hand, he 
 conducted her from the parlour, leaving me to my own reflections. 
 Words are inadequate to a description of my agonies, during the residue 
 of that night. An idea of Miss Little, in any other character than that 
 of a very dear sister, had never crossed my mind ; yet suspicion was 
 now furnished with a weapon against me, which would abundantly en- 
 force the reports retailed to Mr. Little, by his kindred. I have often 
 wondered, that, at an age so susceptible of impression, I did not be- 
 come more warmly attached to Miss Little ; she was a most lovely, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 49 
 
 and amiable young woman ; and she certainly gave me every reason, 
 which a modest, delicate, and sensible female could give, to believe she 
 was not absolutely disinclined to listen to a tale of love. My apathy 
 can only be accounted for, by a recurrence to an unquestionable fact ; 
 my heart was wholly engrossed by my religious connexions. I passed 
 this memorable night in my chamber, without entering my bed. I de- 
 scended the stairs in the morning, with the feelings of a malefactor ; I 
 dreaded the sight of every one in the house. Mr. Little saw me, but 
 spake not to me ; Mrs. Little addressed me in the language of kind- 
 ness ; their daughter was not present, and I am persuaded she was not 
 reduced to the necessity of feigning indisposition, as a pretence for 
 absence. After breakfast Mrs. Little, in a whisper, directed me to re- 
 tire into the back parlour, where she would speedily join me. With 
 trembling dread I obeyed ; she soon appeared, the shutters were clos- 
 ed, just light enough to see her, and be seen by her ; I saw she had 
 been in tears ; she was a most kind-hearted lady. I could not speak, 
 she commanded me to be seated : I drew a chair for her, and another 
 for myself ; she sat down, and I seated myself by her. After a pause, 
 slie began : " Tell me, I conjure you, tell me, what I ought to under- 
 stand by the appearances of this morning ? answer honestly the ques- 
 tions I shall put to you ; but I know your answers will be literally- 
 true. My poor girl is very much distressed ; her father is very reserv- 
 ed, and very^sad, he will make no reply to my inquiries, and my child 
 is also silent. Tell me, I repeat, what is the matter ?" I came home 
 late last night, madam ; no one was up but Miss Little, who, like an 
 affectionate sister, informed me she had something to communicate to 
 me, with which I ought to be acquainted : I listened to her, till I be- 
 came greatly affected with what I heard, and deeply sensible of her 
 goodness ; w r e were mingling our tears, when thus thrown off my 
 guard, I regret to say, that I am apprehensive I committed an unpar- 
 donable offence ; I am mortified, while I confess to you, my dear 
 madam, that I had the boldness to press to my lips the dear hand, 
 which seemed extended to rescue me from indiscretion ; but indeed, 
 my dear lady, it was the first time I ever dared to take so great a liber- 
 ty, and I would give the world I had not then been guilty of so much 
 temerity. At the moment Mr. Little entered, I felt as if I should have 
 sunk under his indignant glance ; Miss Little was greatly discompos- 
 ed, while her father, with a voice rendered tremulous by anger, signifi- 
 cantly said " So, sir" and conducted his daughter out of the room. 
 
50 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 This, my dear lady, is the whole I know of the matter ; 1 fear, Misa 
 Little will never forgive me, for creating her so much distress : I had 
 infinitely rather be dead, than alive ; I dread the eye of Mr. Little, 
 and, it is my opinion, I ought immediately to quit your hospitable 
 mansion. " Alas ! my dear child, I know not what to say ; you be- 
 lieve you ought to quit us ! Would to God you had never thus thought. 
 This persuasion is the source of all our unhappiness : How often 
 have I told you, that no enemy could ever injure you, if your own 
 conduct was uniformly correct. You have deeply wounded a heart 
 that loves you. I promised myself, that you would become a large 
 addition to our domestic felicity. But you are appiehensive you have 
 offended beyond forgiveness ! Alas ! my daughter is more distressed 
 for you, than for herself ; you know not how much she has suffered 
 on your account ; you know not how much we all suffer ! Why, my 
 dear child, will you thus afflict your best friends ?" I am, my dear 
 madam, grieved to have been the source of so much distress to persons 
 so dear to me ; but I shall shortly be out of the way of offending any 
 one. " What do you mean ?" To quit this house, to quit this coun- 
 try. The dear lady threw her maternal arms around me, and wiih 
 flowing tears interrogated : " Is it thus you will avoid offending us ? 
 Ah, my dear child, how little do you know of us, or of yourself : For 
 God's sake, let me persuade you not to take so rash a step ! Where 
 would you go, what would you do ? Would you leave a home, an 
 envied home, and thus, while you afflicted your dearest friends, gratify 
 your malignant foes ?" But, my dear madam, it is impossible I can 
 continue under this roof. Mr. Little will not restore me his confidence, 
 my felicity in this family is fled, forever fled. " You are mistaken, 
 your happiness rests entirely with yourself; be but uniformly discreet, 
 be but the companion we expected, when we adopted you, and all will 
 yet be well." But, madam, the eye and ear of Mr. Little will now be 
 open against me, suspicion will be on the alert, and he will accept the 
 *ales of my enemies, as testimonies of sacred writ. " Believe it not ; 
 think no more of this untoward business ; you have but one enemy who 
 can essentially injure you, and that enemy is yourself. I will be respon- 
 sible for my family ; you shall not be molested in this house, only con- 
 vince us, that you love us ; do but prove, that you are more attached to 
 us, than to any other individuals, and we are satisfied : Do but reflect, 
 how delightfully we might pass our time together. The business oi 
 the day closed, and we assembled in the parlour you with your book. 
 
LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. 5.1 
 
 we your admiring audience, until we are summoned to supper ; then, 
 after you have closed our serene day by an appropriate, and affecting 
 address to the God who created, and who has hitherto preserved us, 
 we retire to an early pillow, soothed, and gratified, our sleep cannot but 
 be refreshing. Why, what a paradise would our abode become. But, 
 my child, when you pass every evening abroad, you know not what a 
 melancholy group you render us. We are dumb, our countenances are 
 *ud ; our silence is sometimes broken by Mr. Little, who questions in 
 anger, " Where is our young gentleman to-night 1 any society but 
 ours 1" Then follows a heavy sigh : " Well, let us go to bed, it will 
 be late before he returns ; but this will never do." We dare not open 
 our lips, but my girls mingle their tears with mine. Greatly moved 
 by these observations, I sincerely repented of my past conduct ; and I 
 determined I would, in all things, conform myself to the wishes of my 
 parental friends. I beheld the family picture presented before me, by 
 the dear lady ; I beheld it with rapture, and I decisively said : yes, 
 indeed, my future evenings shall all be devoted to a family so charming, 
 and thus will my days be passed in peace. I promised the dear lady, 
 solemnly I promised, that I would be all she wished ; and I commu- 
 nicated to her bosom inexpressible delight. I left her in tears, but they 
 were tears of rapture : I retired to my chamber ; I threw myself upon 
 my knees, I supplicated pardon of my heavenly Father, and, with a 
 devout heart, I implored his supporting aid. A petition to my Crea- 
 tor always possessed the potent power of refreshing my soul ; I was 
 greatly refreshed, and I looked forward with renewed complacency. 
 In a few hours, I was summoned to dinner ; at the door of the dining- 
 room, I was met by Mr. Little, no cloud rested upon his countenance ; 
 I entered the dining-room, where were seated my charming, my faith- 
 ful friends ; the mother, and her daughters ; their countenances were 
 animated, but their eyes bore testimony to their previous agitation ; 
 our interview, and hour of dining, were highly gratifying. It is true, 
 many words were not uttered, but there is, in the expressive eye, and 
 other intelligent features of a fine countenance, a fascination which 
 dwelleth not in words. Soon after dinner my little friend, the young- 
 est daughter of my patron, visited me in my chamber, and bestowed 
 upon me many caresses. 
 
 Halcyon days and months now revolved ; I fondly fancied I had 
 surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated a succession of delightful 
 enjoyments ; yet again I experienced the satiety, consequent upon one 
 
52 Ul-'E OF llliV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 unvaried routine. He, who had appointed me for a life of wandering, 
 gave me a disposition which relucted at the constant recurrence of the 
 same scene ; I ventured to pass one evening abroad : another, and 
 another succeeded. 1 was severely reflected upon, and I felt it keenly ; 
 conscious of meriting reproach, I was the more deeply wounded. I 
 had been recently conversant with a young preacher from England ; 
 my imagination was tired ; the world could not have longer detained 
 me; I condemned myself for wasting so much time ; my heart, my 
 soul was in England, in London. Let the world bestow its censures, 
 London was the place, it contained every thing delightful ; I was on 
 tiptoe to be gone ; if I was not approved by the family, so much the 
 better, there would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear mater- 
 nal friend once more sought, and obtained a private interview ; this I 
 wished to avoid ; she saw my reluctance, and was convinced she should 
 not succeed. She reproached me : this, though painful, I could bear 
 better, than her tenderness. " Then you will leave us," said the dear 
 lady. I am determined. " You will repent it, sir ; you will return 
 with sorrow, and with shame ; when, possibly, you may not find these 
 hospitable doors open to receive you." Never, never, I will die first. 
 She paused, she raised her hands to heaven, she looked : merciful God, 
 I see her now before me : the impression of her varying countenance 
 was unutterable ; tears coursed each other down her pallid cheeks. 
 Pausing for a few moments, she said: " Poor, unhappy youth, you know 
 not what you are about, where you are going, and what you are doom- 
 ed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleasing prospects ; now in- 
 deed I have lost my sons ; poor Anna, she has now, in truth, no broth- 
 er. Go, unhappy youth, go, the sooner you depart, the better ; I do 
 not wish to see you again." She left me, nor will I attempt a descrip- 
 tion of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, my chamber now 
 no more ; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In imagination I beheld the be- 
 loved friend, by whom it was once occupied ; he seemed to upbraid 
 me for my conduct ; how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon 
 the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the chamber, 
 and for the last time, during my abode therein ; pretty soul, she threw 
 her arms around my neck, my face was wet with her tears ; she told 
 me, that her sister was very, very sad ! On what occasion, my love ? 
 " Why, papa is very, very angry with you : and she says, you are go- 
 ing away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she shall never see 
 you again ; and she walks about her chamber, and wrings her hand?, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 53 
 
 ! dear, O ! dear, I never saw her so much distressed before !" This 
 was a truly affecting night, but it was the last I passed under that roof; 
 
 1 was not summoned to breakfast : a servant came to ask, if I would 
 breakfast in my chamber, there could be no doubt of my negative. I 
 saw oy the countenance of this domestic, that I was fallen. About 
 twelve o'clock, I received a message from Mr. Little, he was alone ; I 
 must attend him. My sufferings were great. To meet his eye was 
 abundantly worse than death ; I endeavoured to avoid it. Some time 
 elapsed before he spoke ; he repeatedly attempted to speak, but ming- 
 ling grief and rage arrested his utterance. At last he said : " Well, sir. 
 you are going to commence your travels ?" This, with the manner in. 
 which it was spoken, relieved me. It was at that moment my choice 
 to cherish resentment, rather than regret. I am going to England, sir. 
 " You are ; well, and what are you going to do there ? But this is no 
 business of mine ; yet I suppose it must be my business to know, how 
 you are to get there ; have you any money, sir ?" No, sir. " Hold your 
 hat, sir." I did so, and he threw into it as much gold as he pleased, 
 and, as I then believed, as much as would support me, if I should reach 
 the extreme age allotted to man. " Have you enough, sir ?" Yes, sir, 
 quite enough, and God forever bless you. " Do you hear, sir, leave 
 behind you my son's fowling-piece, and here ends my air-built castle ;" 
 and with a flushed countenance, and a tearful eye, he left me, nor did I 
 ever more cross the threshold of his door. I turned my baek upon this 
 once delightful home, with mingling emotions of sorrow, mortification, 
 regret, and auger ; all combining to produce unutterable anguish. . My 
 frame trembled, as I turned from the door ; a dullness pervaded my 
 heart ; sickness seized my stomach, and I had just sufficient presence 
 of mind to turn the contents of my hat into my pocket-handkerchief, 
 when I sunk down upon the steps of the first door in my way. I was 
 seen, and noticed by the people of the house, who conveyed me into 
 their dwelling, and, when they had recovered me, questioned me res- 
 pecting the cause of my indisposition. I related, with my usual frank- 
 ness, every particular, and in a short time, the story circulated, and 
 with all the variations commonly attached to interesting articles of intel- 
 ligence. I was soon sufficiently restored to reach the residence of my 
 mother ; where a new scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer 
 was beyond measure astonished at the step I had so rashly taken, and 
 her distress was unutterable : she had promised herself a long series of 
 enjoyments, from the happy arrangements made for me ; and I suspect 
 
54 L1FB OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 she contemplated, at no very distant period, a union between Miss Lit- 
 tle, and myself ; and her consequent agony, when she learned, that I 
 had not only abandoned my home, and those flattering prospects, but 
 that, in consequence of my fixed determination to repair to England, 
 she was to lose me, perhaps for ever ; the torture of her mind was, as I 
 said, beyond the reach of language : but neither her tears nor entrea- 
 ties, strongly enforced by those of my brothers, and sisters, could for a 
 single moment shake my resolution. Whatever barriers might oppose 
 my wandering steps, to England I must depart ; I saw, or seemed to 
 see, the sacred shade of my father, first reproaching me, and then 
 soothing me to a compliance with the wishes of his mourning family ; 
 and, by the anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up : yet 
 still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could not endure to 
 see, or be seen, in the vicinity of the abode which I had quitted ; and 
 I made immediate preparations for my departure. I tendered, to my 
 disconsolate mother, the money I had received from Mr. Little, not a 
 penny of whtfch she would accept : " No, my beloved child, if you 
 must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of which you 
 know but little, you will find this sum, large as it is, far short of your 
 exigencies. Through your filial exertions, I am established in a dwel- 
 ling, far beyond my most sanguine expectations, or even wishes ; and, 
 from your well-timed efforts, I derive many other advantages ; and if 
 my God is about to deprive me of my son, I doubt not, His goodness 
 and mercy, which have hitherto followed me, will still be manifest, both 
 in my provision, and preservation ; and in that of my helpless chil- 
 dren." My heart seemed ready to burst ; conscience whispered, I 
 was acting wrong, very wrong ; yet even this conviction could not 
 induce a relinquishment of my plan ; an irresistible impulse seemed 
 hurrying me on. Many instances, striking instances, in my long and 
 wearisome life, combine to prove, Unit the way of man is not in him- 
 self ; I, at least, have experienced the truth of this sacred testimony. 
 As the time of my departure drew near, my feelings were still more 
 keen. My mother, my brothers, my sisters, my friends, renewed their 
 tears, and entreaties ; I could not stem a torrent so mighty, and I de- 
 termined I would abide with them. But it was the determination of 
 the moment, extorted by the mournful supplications of all who were 
 dear to me ; and when they ceased to urge, I resumed my former reso- 
 lution ; and my mother, from early life devoutly religious, mildly 
 resigned herself to an event, which she considered inevitable. " I see," 
 
LIFE OF RElV. JOHN MURRAY. 55 
 
 said she, " supplications are ineffectual ; now I am indeed a widow !' 
 Starting at the desolate term (widow), so mournfully uttered, I hast- 
 ened to my chamber, and prostrating myself before the throne of Al- 
 in ; g!ity God, I seemed as if I were struggling with the agonies of dis- 
 solving nature. I would infinitely have preferred death, to a separation 
 so exquisitely torturing : I besought the God of my father to have 
 compassion upon me, never to leave nor forsake me ; and while thus 
 humbly, and faithfully soliciting the Father of my spirit, renewed affi- 
 ance grew in my bosom, and a voice seemed to say, "Go, and lo I am 
 with you always." Calmly reposing upon this assurance, I retired to 
 rest ; I quitted my pillow on the succeeding morning, wonderfully re- 
 freshed. It was on that morning, that I met, for the last time, in the 
 place of my dear, confiding father, his disconsolate family : It was in- 
 deed a time of prayer. My heart addressed the Father of mercies ; I 
 confessed, with great sincerity, my manifold errors ; and I petitioned 
 for a continuance of unmerited kindness; I beseeched God to look with 
 pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commencing a journey through 
 a world, with which he was unacquainted. I entreated our God, in 
 behalf of my suffering mother, and her helpless orphans, that He would 
 constantly abide with them ; and that he would vouchsafe an answer 
 of peace to the many prayers, offered up in their behalf, by the husband 
 and parent, now in glory. My mother was dumb ; she saw the hand 
 of God in this business, and she believed, that, as a sparrow falleth not 
 to the ground without our heavenly Father, I could not thus leave 
 rny pleasant home, and wander I knew not whither, except the Lord 
 directed. And, embracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she 
 affectingly said ; " Go, my first-born, my ever beloved son ; go, and 
 may the God of your father be with you : Go, my darling son, on 
 whom, while corning up from this wilderness, I fondly meant to lean ; 
 but God will not allow me to lean on any but himself : Go thou, ever 
 dear to my heart, and may our God be still near you, to preserve you 
 from the evil, which is in the world. The prayers of your afflicted 
 mother shall be continually offered up in your behalf ; and oh! my son, 
 although we part, never perhaps to meet again in this world, yet let 
 us meet every day before that throne, whence we may expect grace to 
 help in every time of need ; let us be present in spirit, thus waiting 
 upon the Lord. She then threw her fond, maternal arms around me, 
 once more pressing me to that dear, that faithful bosom, whence I 
 drew my early nourishment. With tears of fond affection she bedew- 
 
56 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ed my face, and again dropping upon her knees, she once more lifted 
 her streaming eyes to heaven in my behalf, when starting up, she has- 
 tened to the retirement of her chamber, and instantly closed the door. 
 I stood like a statue ; I could not move ; I was almost petrified by 
 sorrow. But from this state of stupefaction I was roused by the burst 
 of sorrow, and loud lamentations of my sisters ; I turned to the dear 
 girls, I wept with them, and endeavoured to give them that consolation 
 which I did not myself possess. But, hastening from this scene of sor- 
 row, there was one pang, which I calculated to escape. The youngest 
 child, a beautiful little boy, who bore the name of my father sweet 
 cherub I dreaded seeing him, and determined to spare myself this tor- 
 ture ; but, as I slowly, and pensively passed from the house, believing 
 that what was worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this lovely 
 little fellow crossed my path. Sweet innocent, thou wert playful as the 
 frisking lamb of the pasture, totally ignorant of the agonies, which 
 wrung the heart of thy brother. He ran to me, clung around my 
 knees, and looking wishfully in my face, affectingly questioned ; 
 " Where are you going ?" I could not reply, I attempted to move on, 
 he took hold of my garment ; " Let me go with you ? shall not I go 
 with you, brother ?" He uttered these questions, in a voice so plain- 
 tive, that he pierced my very soul. Surely, had it been possible, I 
 should even then have relinquished my purpose. It was with difficulty 
 that I extricated myself from this supplicating infant. I would have 
 hastened forward, but my trembling limbs refused their office ; I caught 
 him in my arms, I pressed him to my aching bosom, and but for a 
 burst of tears, which came seasonably to my relief, the struggles of my 
 heart must have choaked me. I left him yes, I left this youngest of 
 my father's children ; this dear object of my soul's affection, this infant 
 charge, committed to my care, by an expiring father : I left him in the 
 act of innocent supplication. I left him when I should, with a thou- 
 sand times less of suffering, have quitted the clay-built tabernacle of my 
 spirit ; nor had I ought in prospect, to compensate the sorrows to which 
 I voluntarily submitted ! ! Surely, there is a hand unseen, which 
 governs the human being, and all his actions ; I repeat, truly the way 
 of man is not in himself . Few sufferings could surpass those which, 
 upon this occasion, I endured : My bitterest enemy could not have 
 censured me with more severity, than I censured myself, yet I passed 
 on ; no friend could urge my return with more energy, than did the 
 emotions of my own afflicted heart, yet I passed on. True, I passed 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 57 
 
 on slowly ; a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not moved without 
 difficulty. I had sent my trunk on, in the wagon, to the city of Cork, 
 where I purposed to take passage for England ; and with my staff in 
 my hand, I passed on, my eyes fixed on the ground, not wishing to 
 encounter any human eye : It was with much difficulty, I attained the 
 summit of a steep acclivity, where, spent and weary, I sat me down. 
 From this lofty eminence, in full perspective, outspread before me, was 
 the place from which I had departed ; my eye eagerly ran oter the 
 whole scene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly opposite, embosomed in a 
 thick grove of ash, sycamore, and fruit trees, appeared the loved dwel- 
 ling of my mother. Behind this eminence, still ascending, was out- 
 stretched that garden, in which, with great delight, I had so often la- 
 boured ;. where I had planted herbs, fruits, and flowers, in great varie- 
 ty ; and where, as my departure was in the month of June, they all 
 flourished in high perfection. It was only during the preceding year, 
 that I had added to my stock a large number of the best fruit trees, in 
 the full expectation of reaping the reward of my labours, through many 
 successive reasons. In those tall trees, the cuckoo, the thrush, and the 
 blackbird, built their nests ; and at early dawn, and at closing eve, I 
 have hung enraptured upon their melodious notes. My swimming eye 
 passed from the garden to the house ; there sat my weeping, my suppli- 
 cating mother, at that moment, probably, uniting with her deserted chil- 
 dren in sending up to heaven petitions for my safety. I turned to the 
 right ; there towered the stately mansion, 1 was bid to consider as my 
 own ; there dwelt the matron, whew hoped I should have been unto her 
 as a son, and who had cherished me as such ; there dwelt the charming 
 young lady, whose virtuous attachment might have constituted the so- 
 lace of my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of disappointment, 
 no doubt, bedewed their cheeks, and swelled their faithful bosoms : 
 And, oh ! I exclaimed, may the balm of peace, may the consolations 
 of the holy spirit, be abundantly shed abroad in your hearts. 
 
 As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tearful haste had 
 wandered, my heart reiterated its unutterable agonies ; and, as I con- 
 sidered my situation as resembling that of the father of mankind, 
 when driven from the paradise, to which state of blessedness it was 
 decreed he never was to return, I would gladly have laid me down and 
 died : I would have given the world, had it been at my disposal, to 
 have reinstated myself in the situation, and circumstances, I had so 
 inconsiderately relinquished ; but this was impossible, and this con- 
 
3$ LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 viction how terrible ! I wept, I sobbed. Despair seemed taking up 
 its residence in my bosom. I fled from the scene ; again I turned ; one 
 more look ; I wrung my hands in agony, and my heart spontaneously 
 exclaimed : Dear, ever dear parent, once more farewell ; dear, much 
 loved sisters, brothers, and thou, sweet innocent, thou smiling, thought- 
 less, and therefore happy babe, once more farewell ; and you, dear 
 second parents, and thou sister of the friend of my soul, with the beau- 
 teous cherub, whose infantile caresses, while pouring into my ear the 
 interesting tale, were as balm to my wounded spirit farewell, Oh ! 
 farewell forever ! and you, ye many kind, religious connexions, with 
 whom I have often wept, and prayed, and joyed, arid sorrowed, once 
 more I bid you adieu ; adieu ye flowery walks, where I have spent 
 so many happy hours ; ye thick embowering shades, reared by these 
 hani's, ye health-restoring herbs, ye sweet delicious fruits, ye fragrant 
 flowers, receive my last farewell. Still I lingered still I gazed around, 
 and yet again, another look 'tis past, and I am gone forever. I turn- 
 ed from the view, and have never since beheld those charming scenes. 
 I wonder much my agitated spirits had not insured a fever ; but God 
 preserved me, and leading my mind to the consideration of scenes be- 
 yond the present state, I was enabled to proceed, until I beheld, in 
 perspective, the spires of the opulent city, which I was approaching. 
 The opening prospect, with the additional sound of a fine ring of bells 
 from Shannon steeple (a church standing on an eminence upon the river 
 Lee, the bells of which are heard at an immense distance), gave a new 
 tone to my mind. I had many friends in the city of Cork, and I en- 
 deavoured to derive consolation from their unquestioned attachment. 
 I had frequently preached in this city, and I had reason to suppose my 
 labours had been acceptable. In the city of Cork, my paternal grand- 
 mother, with her daughter, my aunt Champion, and her children, still 
 lived. My society would be sought, and I should again be engaged 
 in preaching ; these considerations lessened the weight of affliction, by 
 which I had \n\ sorely pressed. I arrived at the mansion of my 
 grandmother, some time before sunset, and I was very joyfully receiv- 
 ed ; but when I had communicated my plan, the countenances both of 
 my grandmother, and my aunt, decidedly evinced their displeasure : 
 they censured me with severity, and I keenly felt their rebukes. I as- 
 sured them, I came not to solicit aid ; and rising from my chair, I bade 
 them formally adieu, quitting their presence, and their house. The 
 oldest daughter of my aunt, a very beautiful young lady, and as good as 
 
-LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 59 
 
 beautiful, whose heart was formed for pity and for tenderness, followed 
 me down stairs, and entreated me to continue with them, but her well- 
 designed interference was ineffectual. I had been severely censured, 
 and I could not bear it ; I could have borne it better, if it had been un- 
 merited. I left my lovely cousin in tears, nor did I again see, or hear 
 from any individual of the family, until, one evening after I had preach- 
 ed in the Methodist Church, my grandmother advanced, took my hand, 
 and requested I would attend her home : I confess I was delighted 
 with her condescension ; for my mind had greatly suffered from the re- 
 flection, that I had given pain to the dear, and respectable mother of 
 my deceased father. I accompanied her home, and we passed a happy 
 evening together ; both my grandmother, and my aunt, addressed me 
 in strains the most soothing ; they poured into my lacerated mind the 
 oil and wine of consolation ; they confessed themselves convinced, that 
 the good hand of God was in my removal. " You are," said the pious 
 lady, " you are, my dear child, under the guidance of an omnipotent 
 Power ; God has designed you for himself ; you are a chosen instru- 
 ment to give light to your fellow men ; you are, I perceive, ordained to 
 turn many from darkness unto light, from the power of satan, unto God, 
 and the Lord will be with you. The God of your father will bless you, 
 and make your way prosperous before you ; look no more, then, to 
 what you have left behind, but look forward in faith, always remember- 
 ing, that God's icorks of providence are his most holy, wise, and power- 
 ful ; preserving and governing all his creatures, and all their actions. 
 Do not, I say, reflect upon yourself ; I confess, I was wrong in censur- 
 ing you ; God's way is in the great deep, we ought to acquiesce in all 
 the dispensations of our Creator. You, my dear son, are as clay in his 
 hand ; God is as the potter, who will do with you as seemeth good in 
 his sight. Who can resist his will ?" Thus did this dear lady speak 
 peace to a mind, that had not, for a long season, received such strong 
 consolation. 
 
 I was urged, while in the city of Cork, to relinquish my purpose of j 
 going to England. The Methodists solicited rne to repair to Limerick, 
 where a preacher was much wanted ; but nothing could seduce my 
 thoughts from my native island. I frequently mixed in company, 
 where religious disputes ran very high. The doctrine of election, and 
 final perseverance, were severely reprobated : But election, and 
 final perseverance, were fundamentals in my creed, and were received 
 by me, as the doctrines of God. Yet I was aware, that an attempt to < 
 
60 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 defend principles, so obnoxious, would subject me to the censure, and 
 ill treatment of religious enemies, and I had experienced, that religious 
 enemies were the most to be dreaded : Yet, as I could not be silent, and 
 as I dared not dissemble, I contented myself with observing, that I 
 had been accustomed to hear my respectable father speak in favour of 
 those doctrines. But although, in my public labours, I never asserted 
 ought, that could expose me to censure, yet I was more thai suspected 
 of Calvinism, and consequent resentments were enforced against me. 
 My residence in the city of Cork was thus rendered unpleasant, and 
 my impatience to embark for England was augmented. I was, how- 
 ever, obliged to continue two weeks longer, during which period, I 
 endeavoured to live as retired as possible, avoiding controversy, and 
 devoting my time to my grandmother and a few select friends. It was 
 during my protracted residence in this city, that the celebrated Mr. 
 George Whitefield arrived there, upon a visit. Of Mr. Whitefield I 
 had heard much, and I was delighted with an opportunity of seeing, 
 hearing, and conversing with so great a man. He was the first Cal- 
 vinistic Methodist I had ever heard, and he became very dear to me ; 
 I listened with transport. The principles early inculcated upon my 
 mind were in full force, and for Mr. Whitefield I conceived a very 
 strong passion. He appeared to me something more than human ; 
 I blushed, at the view of myself, as a preacher, after I had attended 
 upon him ; yet I had the temerity to preach in pulpits, which he h^.d 
 so well filled ! and I secretly resolved lo enter into connexion with 
 him, if I should be so happy as to meet him, after my arrival in Lon- 
 don. I had many delightful opportunities in private circles with this 
 gentleman ; he was a most entertaining companion. But, as Mr. AVes- 
 ley marked him with a jealous eye, he dispatched, by way of escort, 
 two of his preachers, in whom he particularly confided, who diligently 
 followed the great man, from place to place : he was of course, upon 
 every occasion, closely watched ; and his facetious observations, and 
 frequent gaiety, were, by these spies, severely censured, as descriptive 
 of unbecoming levity. In fact, every art was called into action, to 
 prevent the affections of the people wandering, from one reformer to 
 another ; yet, while gentlemen, in connexion with Mr. Wesley, were 
 continually upon the alert against Mr. Whitefield, he himself evinced 
 not the smallest inclination for opposition, or even defence ; he appear- 
 ed perfectly content with the enjoyments of the duy, rather preferring 
 a state of independence, to an intimate connexion with any sect, or 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 61 
 
 party. His choice, at that time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, 
 and he then evidently shrunk from the cares, and embarrassments, at- 
 tached to the collecting, building, and repairing churches. And never, 
 I believe, did any man in public life enjoy more : he was the admira- 
 tion of the many, and an object of the warmest affection in those so- 
 cial circles, in which it was his felicity to mingle. The pleasures of 
 the table were highly zested by Mr. Whitefield, and it was the pride 
 of his friends to procure for him every possible luxury. The pleasure 
 I derived from this gentleman's preaching, from his society, and from 
 the society of his friends, contributed to lessen the weight of melancho- 
 ly, which depressed my spirits on my departure from home. I recol- 
 lect an evening, passed with him at the house of one of Mr. Wesley's 
 preachers, who had wedded a beautiful young lady of family and for- 
 tune, only daughter of a Mrs. , who possessed a very large 
 
 estate, kept her chariot, her city, and her country house, and entertained 
 much company ; many persons were collected upon this evening ; 
 I was charmed with every thing I saw, with every thing I heard. I. 
 had long admired the master of the house, his lady I had never before 
 seen ; she was the object of general adulation ; her person was un- 
 commonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly beautiful ; she had received 
 a useful, as well as a. fashionable education, and she was mistress of all 
 the polite accomplishments. She had three lovely children, with minds 
 as well cultivated, as their time of life would permit ; I threw my eyes 
 upon the happy, the highly favoured husband, the amiable wife, the 
 fascinating children, the venerable lady, who gave being to this charm- 
 ing wife, mother, friend. I beheld the group with rapture ; for envy, 
 as I have elsewhere observed, was never an ingredient in my compo- 
 sition, and I hung with a sort of chastened pleasure, upon the anecdotes 
 furnished by Mr. Whitefield ; the whole scene was captivatingly en- 
 tertaining, and highly interesting ; I was ready to wish the night 
 might endure forever. Alas ! it was but one night ; I never . after en- 
 tered that house : Happy would it have been for me, if I had never 
 seen it. How mysterious are the ways of heaven ! this evening, upon 
 which I was so highly gratified, was the remote cause of my suffering, 
 many years afterwards, great and very serious inquietude. I left the 
 house of my friend, Mr. Trinbath, expecting to have seen him again 
 and again ; I left him an object of envy to many ; but I never saw 
 him more, nor did lie, poor gentleman, long continue the object of 
 envy to any one. 
 
62 LIFE OF RBV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 This was the last night I spent in this city, in this country. The ves- 
 sel, in which I had engaged a passage to Bristol, was now ready for 
 sailing ; I had only time, upon the morning of the ensuing day, to bid 
 a hasty adieu to my grandmother, and her family, with a lew other 
 friends ; to receive their blessings, and to depart. I took my place in 
 the vessel at the wharf, some of my friends accompanying me thither ; I 
 spoke to them with my eyes, with my hands, my tongue refused utterance. 
 
 The beauty of the surrounding scenes, in passing from the city to the 
 cove of Cork, cannot perhaps be surpassed. A few miles from the city 
 stands a fortress, then governed by a half brother of my father. I 
 beheld it with a humid eye, but the vessel had a fair wind, and we 
 passed it rapidly. I retired to the cabin ; my too retentive memory 
 retraced the scenes I had witnessed, since first I reached Hi hernia's 
 hospitable shore , they were many, and to me interesting : reflection 
 became extremely painful, yet it was impossible to avoid it ; and 
 while I was thus retrospecting, the vessel cut her way through the har- 
 bour ; we had reached the cove, we were on the point of leaving the 
 land. I jumped upon the deck, I threw my eyes over the country I 
 was leaving, which contained all that was near and dear to me, either 
 by the ties of blood or friendship ; all, all were drawn up in order be- 
 fore me, it was another parting scene. Yet I cherished hope, I might 
 again return. Alas ! alas ! this hope was delusive ; it was an ever- 
 lasting adieu. Dear country of guileless, and courteous manners, of 
 integrity, and generous hospitality, I bid you adieu ; adieu ye ver- 
 dant hills, ye fertile vallies, ye gurgling rills, which every where cross 
 the path of the traveller ; ye delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye 
 sylvan scenes, for contemplation made adieu, perhaps forever. Here 
 ends the various hopes and fears, which have swelled my bosom in a 
 country celebrated for the salubrity of its air, the clearness of its waters, 
 the richness of its pastures, and the hospitality of its inhabitants ; and 
 Where no poisonous reptile could ever yet procure sustenance. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Arrival in England, and further Progress of the INEXPERIENCED 
 
 Traveller. 
 
 Hail, native Isle, for deeds of worth renown'd, 
 By Statesmen, Patriots, Poets, Heroes crown'd ; 
 For thee my friends, my weeping friends, I leave, 
 To thy hlest arms, thy wandering son receive. 
 
 NOW began a new era of my melancholy life. Losing sight of land, 
 I again retired to my cabin : alas ! " busy thought was too busy for 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 6S 
 
 my peace." Launched upon the wide ocean, I was speeding to a country, 
 my native country indeed ; but a country, in which I could boast neith- 
 er relation, nor friend, not even a single acquaintance. I was quitting 
 a country, in which I had both relations and friends, with many pleas- 
 ant acquaintances : yet this consideration did not much depress me ; 
 for although my heart was pained, exquisitely pained, when I reflected 
 on those I was leaving, yet I was in raptures at the thought of Eng- 
 land. I promised myself every thing pleasing in England ; yet, in 
 my most visionary moments, I could not name a source, from which I 
 could rationally expect establishment, or even temporary gratification. 
 Several gentlemen were in the cabin, who took kind notice of me ; they 
 asked me no questions, so I was not embarrassed ; but they contribut- 
 ed to render my passage agreeable, which, however, was very short ; 
 for the identical passage, which, when I accompanied my father, con- 
 sumed full nine weeks, was now performed in three days ; but, ex- 
 empted from those fears, and that nausea, which sometimes afflict fresh- 
 water sailors, I was rather pleased with the rapidity of our passage. 
 We dropped anchor in Bristol channel ; I was charmed with an oppor- 
 tunity of going on shore at Pill, and once more greeting the good old 
 lady, that had, many years before, so tenderly compassionated me, when 
 I returned, as one from the dead, to my offended father. Alas ! she was 
 no more ; this was a disappointment, but I was in England,' and every 
 thing I saw, swelled my throbbing bosom to rapture. I was determin- 
 ed on walking to Bristol, it was only five miles, and through a most en- 
 chanting country. O ! what transport of delight I felt, when, with the 
 ens 'ling morning, I commenced my journey. The birds sweetly ca- 
 rolled, the flowers enamelled the meadows, the whole scene was para- 
 disiacal. It was England. But where was I going ? I knew not. 
 How to be employed 1 I knew not ; but I knew I was in England, 
 and, after feasting my eyes and ears, I seated myself upon a verdant 
 bank, where the hot wells, (so much celebrated as the resort of invalid 
 votaries of fashion, who come hear to kill time, and to protract a debili- 
 tated existence by the use of the waters,) were in full view. Here I 
 began seriously to reflect upon my situation, and to attend to various 
 questions, proposed by a certain invisible, my internal monitor, who 
 thus introduced the inquiry. " Well, here you are, in England, what 
 are you to do ?" God only knows. " Had you not better apply to 
 Him for his direction and protection ?" Certainly, where has my 
 mind wandered, that I have not thus done before ? The emotions of my 
 ,. heart were at this moment indescribable. When I last gazed upon 
 
64 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 these scenes, my prudent, vigilant father, was at my side, to guard me 
 from evil ; now I had no guide, no counsellor, no protector ! " O 
 yes," said my monitor, " you have the Creator, the Father of your 
 father, He will be your God, and your guide : He will be your pro- 
 tector, your counsellor, your preserver ; He will provide for you, and,if 
 you apply to Him, He will make your way plain before you." My 
 heart, softened and cheered by these consoling suggestions, instantly 
 began its supplications ; there I prayed, and there I remembered Ja- 
 cob upon the field of Padan-Aram ; I commended myself to the care 
 of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and I added to these 
 names, the name of my own father. Thus, by unbosoming myself to 
 the Author of my existence, was my spirit greatly refreshed. It is 
 very true I wept, freely wept, but my tears were tears of luxury, and I 
 went on my way rejoicing, in a hope which gave me, as it were, to 
 tread air. I reached Bristol at early dinner, I entered a tavern, in- 
 quiring if I could be furnished with a dinner. They saw I was a 
 stranger, and from Ireland. The master of the inn was from the same 
 country ; he soon discovered I was a Methodist, and being acquainted 
 with those Religionists, he invited them to visit me, and I was conse- 
 quently introduced to many of the Methodists in that city. It may 
 be thought strange, that, as I had been so much engaged among the 
 Methodists in Ireland, being one of their approved preachers, I did not 
 take the steps necessary to introduce me among that class of people in 
 England. But, beside the jealousy which had taken place in the minds 
 of my religious brethren, on account of my attachment to the doctrine 
 of election, which made me resolve to quit Mr. Wesley's connexion, 
 and unite myself with the adherents of Mr. Whitefield, I wished for 
 liberty to act myself, without restraint. But on being introduced, I 
 was soon engaged ; attended their meetings, and private societies, and 
 was admired, and caressed, and consequently tarried longer than I 
 had proposed, deriving, from every social interview, abundant consola- 
 tion. Upon the evening previous to my departure from Bristol, 1 was 
 urged to visit a society a few miles from the city ; it was a pleasant 
 walk ; several of both sexes were assembled, they were neat in person, 
 and correct in manners, and they were all English. I was charmed, 
 and, being in good spirits, I was thought excellent company ; I. was 
 then a stranger. They were highly pleased ; I was requested to pray ; 
 I did so, and we mingled our tears. I was solicited to continue among 
 this people, but my wishes all pointed to London and to London I 
 must go. I parted with my new acquaintance with regret, for I was 
 
LIFE OF R^V. JOHN MURRAY. 65 
 
 as much pleased with them, as they appeared to be with me. Being 
 prevailed upon to tarry dinner the next day, I did not leave Bristol 
 until the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to proceed as 
 far as Bath, and take the stage for London, upon the ensuing morning. 
 As I passed over one of the most charming roads in England, and 
 alone, I had not only time for reflection, but my reflections were pen- 
 sively pleasing : I was advancing towards the metropolis ; hitherto I 
 had experienced the goodness of God, and I indulged the most san- 
 guine hopes. My heart was greatly elated ; I beheld the surrounding 
 scenes with rapture ; I was not wearied by my walk, it was only six- 
 teen miles from Bristol, to Bath ; the fields stood thick with corn, the 
 valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of hay, seemed to laugh and 
 sing, and the birds, in their variety, were, as if hymning the praises of 
 their Creator, while the setting sun heightened the grandeur, and gave 
 the finishing touches to the scene. My feelings were indeed highly 
 wrought. I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful river ; two hay- 
 makers were returning from their toil ; I addressed them, and, in my 
 accustomed manner, I expressed my delight, and my gratitude. 
 " These," said I, in a strain of rapture, " These are thy glorious works, 
 Parent of good ; Almighty Father, thine this universal frame ; these 
 wond'rous fair surpassing wonder far thyself how wond'rous then !" 
 Tears gushed in my eyes, as I thus expressed the transport of my soul. 
 The men were astonished, yet they seemed pleased ; t asked them the 
 name of the river ? They replied, " the Avon, sir," Then, said T, 
 it flows through the native place of Shakspenre. " Shakspeare, who 
 is he ?" A writer, I replied; wondering at myself for mentioning his 
 name ; but I thought of Shakspeare, and I have ever been accustomed 
 to think loud ; the thought was an addition to my pleasures, and. from 
 the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaketh. My companions 
 could not fail of discovering, that I came from Ireland, yet they cast no 
 reflections upon me, as is the custom with low people, upon these 
 occasions ; they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. " I fancy," said 
 one of them, " you are a Methodist." I am said I I do not deny it. 
 " Then my Bess will be -glad to see thee, I'll warrant me ; wool thee 
 come along with me ? Thee may go farther, and fare worse, I can 
 tell thee that." " Ay, ay," said the other, " Thee had best go with 
 my neighbour I'll warrant thee good cheer." I thanked thirf kind 
 man, and my heart swelled with gratitude to that Being, in wlio.se 
 hands are the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me on my 
 entrance into this strange city, with lovingMdndness, and tender mercy. 
 
66 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 We walked on together, mutually delighted ; I, with every thing I 
 saw, and my companions with me, for my expressed s'ltisluction. We 
 soon stopped at the door of a very neat house. This cannot, said my 
 heart, be the dwelling of a hay-maker ; it was, however, and opening 
 the door, he said : " Here, Bess, I have brought thee home a young 
 Methodist, I know thee wilt be glad to see him." I was then, by this 
 rough, good-hearted man, presented, to his wife: "Thou must find 
 out his name thyself." I immediately told her my name, when, in a 
 friendly manner, she requested me to be seated. She was a very differ- 
 ent character from her husband, her manners were even polished ; she 
 entered into friendly conversation with me, and we derived much sat- 
 isfaction therefrom, when her husband entering, inquired in his rough 
 manner, " What the plague, Bess, hast got no supper for thy guest ?" 
 This was a matter to which we had neither of us recurred. The good 
 man, however, was speedily obeyed, and an elegant repast was forth- 
 with placed upon the table, of which I partook with appetite. We 
 afterwards sang one of the Methodist hymns, and we united in sol- 
 emn prayer ; while my heart acknowledged all the fervour of devotion, 
 even my host himself seemed affected and pleased, declaring he es- 
 teemed himself fortunate in meeting me. I was introduced to a hand- 
 some lodging room, and a good bed, but the fulness of my grateful 
 heart would not, for some time, allow me to close my eyes ; at length 
 I sunk into the most refreshing slumbers, and I arose the next morning 
 greatly exhilarated. I was received by my hospitable host, and hostess, 
 with every mark of satisfaction ; we breakfasted together, sang a hymn, 
 and addressed the throne of grace, when the good man went forth to 
 the labours of the field, requesting that I would not think of leaving 
 them. In the course of the morning, the good lady informed me, that 
 they had recently settled, in Bath, a Mr. Tucker, who had been a 
 preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence ; of all <he 
 preachers, with whom I had ever associated, this man possessed the 
 greatest share of my affection. His tender, innocent, child-like dispo- 
 sition, not only endeared him to me, but to all who were acquainted 
 with his worth. My hostess was charmed to learn, that I was known 
 to Mr. Tucker : I solicited her to direct me to his residence, but when 
 she informed me, that, by the death of his father, he had recently come 
 into possession of thirty thousand pounds sterling, I became apprehen- 
 sive I should not be recognised. But I had occasion to reproach my- 
 self for my suspicions, for no sooner was I conducted to his dwelling, 
 than he caught me in his arms, and expressed the highest satisfaction. 
 
ilBE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 67 
 
 Upon introducing me to his lady, he said : " My dear, this young man 
 is the eldest son of one of the best men I ever knew. No man ever 
 possessed a larger share of my venerating affection : I love this young 
 person as his son, and 1 love him for himself ; and when you, my dear, 
 know him as I do, the goodness of your own heart will compel you to 
 love him as I do." How highly gratifying all this to me, at such a 
 time, in such a place, and in the presence of the lady, whose guest I 
 was 1 but I must be her guest no longer ; this warrn-hearted friend 
 of my father, and of myself, would not allow me to leave his house nor 
 the city for a long season ; indeed, it was greatly against his will, that I 
 left Bath when 1 did. I promised, I would call every day upon my 
 worthy host, and hostess, which promise I punctually performed. Mr. 
 Tucker insisted upon my giving them a discourse in the church in which 
 he^officiated ; for, although possessed of an independent fortune, he yet 
 continued to preach to the people. On Sunday, then, I preached in the 
 city of Bath, to great acceptation. My host and hostess (the hospitable 
 hay-maker and wife) were present, and felicitated themselves that 
 they had introduced a man, so much approved. 
 
 My Reverend friend conducted me from place to place, showing me 
 every thing curious in that opulent resort of the nobility. It was to 
 this faithful friend that I communicated, in confidence, the difficulties 
 under which I laboured, respecting my religious principles. I observed 
 to him, that I could not, with a good conscience, reprobate doctrines, 
 which, as I firmly believed originated with God, nor advocate senti- 
 ments diametrically opposite to what I considered as truth. On this 
 account I could not cordially unite with Mr. Wesley, or his preachers. 
 Mr. Tucker saw the force of my objections ; nay, he felt them too, 
 for he was at that instant nearly in the same predicament with myself. 
 Yet we could not hit upon an expedient to continue in the connexion, 
 and preserve our integrity. My anxiety, however, to reach the 
 capital compelled me to press forward ; and my kind friend, convinced 
 I was not to be prevailed upon further to delay my departure, en- 
 gaged a place in the coach for me, discharging all the attendant ex- 
 penses, and placing, besides, a handsome gratuity in my pocket. Of 
 my first host and hostess I took a friendly leave, gratitude has stamped 
 their images upon my bosom ; I left them, and my other kind friends, 
 in tears ; we commended each other to the kind God, who, in his own 
 way, careth for us. I have since been greatly astonished, indeed I 
 was at the time surprised, at my thus hastening to quit a place, where 
 I was furnished with every thing, my heart ought to have desired^ 
 
68 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 when the prospect before me was at least uncertain ; but I have been, 
 all my days, a mystery to myself, nor is this mystery yet unravelled. 
 I retired this night to bed, but did not close my eyes, until near the 
 dawn of day; yet my reflections upon my pillow were charming; I 
 clearly saw the good hand of God, in all my movements ; I was en- 
 chanted with every thing I had seen, and with the prospect of what I 
 had still to see. O ! how sweet, in early life, are those sensations, 
 which are the offspring of vigorous hope ; how great are the joys of 
 expectation ! No one ever derived more high-wrought pleasures from 
 hope, than myself. I quitted my bed just at the dawn of day, after a 
 refreshing slumber ; I had apprized the people at the stage house, the 
 evening before, that I should walk on, and let the stage overtake me ; 
 this I did, and a most delightful walk I had. I met the Aurora, the 
 rising sun, the waking songsters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of 
 the mead, the lusty labourer, with his sithe, preparing to cut down the 
 bending burden of the flowery meadow. The increasing beauty of 
 the surrounding scenes, the fragrant scent of the new-mowed hay, all, 
 all, were truly delightful, and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, 
 I passed on, till I reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, 
 where, after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, in which I was 
 soon seated, finding a ride, after walking, more abundantly refreshing; we 
 rolled over the finest road in the world, with such rapidity, that we 
 reached London before sunset. How much was my heart elated, as I 
 passed over this charming country ; how did it palpitate with pleasure, 
 as I advanced toward the Metropolis ; yet still I had no fixed plan, 
 nor knew I what I should do, or whither repair ! True, I had some 
 letters to deliver, but, in the hurry of my spirits, I had forgotten them ; 
 and on being set down at the stage house in London, I left my trunk 
 without a single line of intimation to whom it belonged, and wandered 
 about the city, feasting my eyes with the variety, which it presented, 
 " till twilight grey had, in her sober livery, all things clad," when I 
 began to turn my thoughts towards a shelter for the night. I entered a 
 tavern, requesting a supper, and a lodging, both of which were 
 readily granted ; I sat pensive, I was weary, my spirits sunk, T eat 
 little, and retiring to my chamber, after securing the door, T fell on my 
 knees, beseeching the Father of mercies to have compassion upon me. 
 I wept, I wished myself at home, and my heart seemed to die within 
 me, at the consideration that T could not return, without fulfilling the 
 predictions of my matron friend : ** You will return," said she, " and 
 perhaps fiad this door shut against you." Never, said I, never; I will 
 
I.IIE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 die first. This was the most melancholy night, I had passed, since 
 I left the dwelling of my mother. I arose in the morning unre- 
 freshed, I inquired where the stage put up, I had forgotten ; I told 
 myliost,! had left my trunk at the stage-house. He soon found the place, 
 but he despaired of ever obtaining my trunk ; I recovered it however, 
 and a porter took it to my lodgings, there I believed it safe, although 1 
 knew nothing of the people. I recollected where I had lived, w r hen 
 with my father in this city ; thither I repaired ; but although there 
 were remaining individuals who remembered him, no one recognised 
 me. I was however kindly noticed, for his sake, and soon introduced to 
 many, by whom I was much caressed. From this I reaped no benefit : 
 a few of my Methodist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited 
 me, but, seeing me in company which they did not approve, they stood 
 aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wesley, and his adherents, 
 my principles were against me. They did not believe any man could 
 be pious, who believed the doctrine of predestination. I remember, 
 some time after the death of my father, sitting with Mr. Wesley in the 
 house of my mother, and conversing on this truly interesting subject ; 
 I ventured to remark, that there were some good men, who had given 
 their suffrage in favour of the doctrine of Election, and I produced my 
 father, as an instance, when, laying his hand upon my shoulder, with 
 great earnestness, lie said : " My dear lad, believe me, there never was 
 a man in this world, who believed the doctrine of Calvin, but the lan- 
 guage of his heart was, ' I may live as I list.' " It was, as I have be- 
 fore observed, generally believed, that I inherited the principles of my 
 father. The Methodists in London were afraid of me, and I was afraid 
 of them, we therefore, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other ; 
 my wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still paramount in my 
 bosom, but Mr. Whitefield was not at home, and it was unfortunate 
 for me that he was not. Every day I was more and more distinguish- 
 ed ; but it was by those, whose neglect of me would have been a mer- 
 cy : by their nominal kindness I was made to taste of pleasures, to 
 which I had before been a stranger, and those pleasures were eagerly 
 zested. I became what is called very good company, and I resolved 
 to see, and become acquainted with life ; yet I determined, my knowl- 
 edge of the town, and its pleasures, should not affect my standing in 
 the religious world. But I was miserably deceived ; gradually, my 
 former habits seem.-d to fade from my recollection. To my new 
 connexions I gave, and received froin them, what I then believed 
 pleasure, without alloy. Of music, and dancing, I was very fond, and 
 
70 UFE OF REV. JOHtt MURRAY. 
 
 I delighted in convivial parties ; Vaux-hall, the play-houses, were 
 charming,; I had never known life before. It is true, my secret Men- 
 tor sometimes embittered my enjoyments ; the precepts, the example of 
 my father stared me in the face ; the secret sigh of my bosom arose, as 
 I mournfully reflected on what I had lost. But I had not sufficient re- 
 solution to retrace my steps ; indeed I had little leisure. I was in a 
 perpetual round of company ; I was intoxicated with pleasure ; I was 
 invited into one society, and another, until there was hardly a society 
 in London, of which I was not a member. How long this life of dis- 
 sipation would have lasted, had not my resources failed, I know not. 
 I occasionally encountered one, and another, of my religious connex- 
 ions, who seriously expostulated with me ; but I generally extorted 
 from them a laugh, which ultimately induced them to shun me. I 
 had an interview with Mr. Barnstable, a preacher in Mr. Wesley's 
 connexion, and questioning him respecting many, whom I had known, 
 he informed me, that Mr. Trinbath, at whose house T had passed so 
 delightful an evening with Mr. Whitefield, in the city of Cork, was no 
 more ! His beautiful wife had quitted her husband, her children, and 
 her mother, and accompanied a private soldier to America ! ! ! Her 
 doting husband, thus cruelly deceived, lost first his reason, and after- 
 wards his life. Mr. Barnstable inquired, what had become of me so 
 long ; and, after severely admonishing me, he pronounced upon me an 
 anathema, and quitted me. It will be supposed, I was not much pleased 
 with him, and, assuredly, I was at variance with myself ; and above all. 
 I was grievously afflicted for the misfortunes, and death of the once 
 happy Trinbath. It has often been matter of astonishment to me, how, 
 after such a religious education as 1 had received ; after really, vitally 
 entering into the spirit of the life, to which I \\as from infancy habitu- 
 ated; after feelingly bearing my public testimony against the follies, and 
 the dissipation of the many, I should so entirely renounce a life of seri- 
 ous piety, and embrace a life of frolic, a life of whim ! It is also won- 
 derful, that, thus changed, I proceeded no further ; that I was guilty of* 
 no flagrant vices ; that I was drawn into no fatal snares. Many were 
 the devices employed to entangle me ; which devices I never deliber- 
 ately sought to avoid. Doubtless, I was upheld by the good hand of* 
 God : for which sustaining power my full soul offers its grateful orisons. 
 I pursued this inconsiderate, destructive course, upwards of a year, 
 never permanently reflecting where I was, or how I should terminate 
 my career. My money was nearly exhausted : but this was beneath 
 my consideration : and, as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by 
 
LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 71 
 
 large circles of friends successively engaging me, either abroad, or at 
 home, in town, or in the country. Thus did my life exhibit a constant 
 tissue of folly, and indiscretion. But the time of my emancipation 
 drew near ; a demand, which I had barely sufficient to answer, was 
 made upon me by my tailor ; I started, and stood for some time mo- 
 tionless. The money, which I believed would never be expended, was 
 already gone. I saw no method of recruiting my finances, and I stood 
 appalled, when, at this distressing moment, a gay companion broke in 
 upon me ; he was on his way to the Club ; )there was to be grand 
 doings : Jphn Wilkes, esquire, was that night to become a member. 
 I instantly forgot every thing of a gloomy nature, and went off as light, 
 as a feathered inhabitant of the air. I never was fond of the pleasures 
 of the bottle, of social pleasures no one more so ; and, that I might en- 
 joy society with an unbroken zest, I have frequently thrown the wine 
 under the table, rejoicing that I thus preserved my reason. 
 
 This period of my life had so much of variety, and yet so much 
 of sameness, that a picture of a week would be nearly a complete exhi- 
 bition of all my deviations. Suffice it to say, that I plunged into the 
 vortex of pleasure, greedily grasping at enjoyments, which both my 
 habits and my circumstances should have taught me to shun. Upon 
 this subject I do not love to dwell ; if possible, I would erase it from 
 my recollection ; and yet, I derive abundant satisfaction, from the mani- 
 festation of Divine Goodness, so strikingly exemplified, through the 
 whole of my wanderings, in preserving me, by the strong arm of the 
 Almighty, from numerous evils to which, in the society I frequented, 
 and in the city where I resided, I was hourly exposed. But, as I said, 
 necessity, imperious necessity, compelled me to pause ; and it was, in 
 truth, a blessed necessity. Had I been inclined to forget, that my whole 
 stock was expended, the frequent calls made upon me for, monies, 
 which I could not pay, would have constituted a uniform, and impres- 
 sive memento. My embarrassments were soon rumoured abroad ; and 
 although I had many friends, who appeared to regard money as little as 
 myself, who, declaring they could not exist without me, insisted upon 
 my being of their parties, yet a consciousness of dependence rendered 
 me wretched, while indirect remarks, thrown out by some individuals, 
 served to increase my wretchedness. Easter holy-days are, in England, 
 days of conviviality. Parties of pleasure were every where forming. 
 My connexions were hastening to my favourite retreat, Richmond ; in- 
 clination led me to join them ; but they either were not, or I suspected 
 they were not, as usual, warm in their-solicitations, and I declined a less 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN -MURRAY. 
 
 importunate invitation. I, however, took a solitary walk, and I met 
 reflection on the way. I had in the world but one half-penny, and a 
 mendicant, asking alms, crossed my path ; 1 gave him my half-penny, 
 and walked on, till, passing out of the city, I advanced into the fields. 
 I began to feel exhausted ; and, under the wide spreading shade of a 
 tree, I sat me down. I continued, for some time, in a state of fixed 
 despair, regardless of life and every thing which it had to bestow. The 
 eye of retrospection ran over past scenes ; I remembered my father's 
 house, and the plenty which, particularly at this season, reigned there. 
 This was nearly the anniversary of his death; the mournful scene passed 
 in review before me ; his paternal advice, his paternal prayers flashed 
 upon my soul ; the eye of my mind dwelt upon the family I had deser- 
 ted. Oh ! could they now behold me ! Would they not be gratitied ? 
 I hoped they would ; their pity would have pained most exquisitely. 
 Still my emotions were not of an ameliorating description ; my heart was 
 indurated, and, had I possessed the means, I should have proceeded in 
 the path of destruction. At length I Deemed awakened to a full sense of 
 the horrors of my situation ; my heart throbbed with anguish as T spon- 
 taneously exclaimed : Am I the son of such a man, the son of such pa- 
 rents ? am I that pious youth so much, and by so many admired ? am 
 I the preacher, who at so early a period preached to others, drawing 
 tears from the eyes of those who heard me ? And is it thus my jour- 
 ney to England terminates ? am I now alone, and unfriended, without 
 an extricating hand to save me ? Whither, ah ! whither shall I go, 
 and what step is now to be taken ? At this moment, the voice of con- 
 solation vibrated upon my mental ear : " Imitate the prodigal of old, 
 Arise, and go unto your Father ; say, I have sinned against heaven, and in 
 thy sight, I am no longer worthy to be called thy son : but beseech Him, 
 nevertheless, to receive you into his service." This counsel, proceeding 
 from a quarter, from which I had not for a long season heard, deeply 
 affected me, and bitterly did I weep, in the dread of that refusal, which, 
 should I venture to follow the guidance of the monitor within, I was, 
 alas 1 but too certain of receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm 
 of insects, buzzed around me, but no thought gave me peace. How 
 exquisite was the torture, which at this moment I suffered. But the 
 approach of evening roused me to a conviction of the necessity of mov- 
 ing ; but whither should I go ? that was the question. " Suppose," 
 said my invisible monitor, " you go to the tabernacle ?" and, bursting 
 .into a flood of tears, I said, Yes. I will present myself among the multi- 
 tude yes, I will go ; but how shall I meet the eye of any individual, 
 
LIFE OF RSV. JOHN MURRAY. 73 
 
 who has formerly known me ? how dare I stand among the worshippers 
 of that God, whom I have so grossly offended ? Yet I will go ; and, 
 with slow and mournful steps, I walked forward. The congregration 
 had assembled. I entered, taking my stand under the gallery. I dared 
 not raise my eyes ; they were bathed in tears. Mr. Whitefield, in his 
 u^ual, energetic manner, addressed his audience ; but no sound of con- 
 solation reached me. At last he said : " But there may be, in some cor- 
 ner of this house, a poor, desponding, despairing soul, who, having sin- 
 ned, greatly sinned against God and against himself, may be afraid to 
 lift toward Heaven his guilty eye ; he may, at this moment, be suffering 
 the dreadful consequences of his wandering from the source of true hap- 
 piness ; and possibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted 
 to return ! If there be any one of this description present, I have to in- 
 form such individual, that God is still his loving Father ; that He says, 
 Return unto me, my poor, backsliding child, and I will heal your back- 
 slidings, and love you freely. What message shall I return my Mas- 
 ter from you, my poor, afflicted, Avandering, weeping brother 'I shall I 
 say. you are suitably penetrated by his gracious invitation, and that you 
 would come with weeping, and supplication ; that you would tly with 
 gratitude, and prostrate yourself before Him, were you not so much 
 injured by your wanderings; that you feel you are not able, and that 
 you should blush to ask his assistance ? Is this your message ? poor, 
 poor soul ! never fear, your gracious Father will shortly send you every 
 needful aid." All this was said to me ; at least, to my wondering spi- 
 rit, it thus appeared ; and I seemed as if expiring, amid the mingling 
 emotions of regret, apprehension, and hope. 
 
 1 left the tabernacle under these potent impressions ; and,crossing Moor- 
 fields, I was overtaken by one of my old religious connexions, who, re- 
 garding me with wonder, said, " Am I so happy as to see you, one of ih 
 many who where at the tabernacle this evening ?" My reply was indica- 
 tive of the sorrow of my heart. He proceeded to make many remarks, 
 until, in the moment of separation, he said, " Well, my friend, perhaps, 
 you will go, from hence, into company where you will forget all that you 
 have this evening heard." My heart was very full ; and from its abun- 
 dance I said, No, never will I again mingle in circles calculated to efface 
 impressions, which I will chervil to the latest hour of my existence. 
 Let these tears, these fast-falling tears, evince my sincerity. My friend 
 rejoiced in the prospect of my returning to the path, from which 1 had 
 wandered; but he rejoiced with fear and trembling. He knew my 
 con noxious were numerous, and that myxvivacity rendered me the lif; 
 
74 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 of those convivial circles, where I had so long figured. But the grace 
 of God upheld me, and never, from that moment, did I unite with 
 those associates, from which I was at first separated by necessity. 
 
 I was now an insulated being. I carefully avoided my former com- 
 panions, and my religious connexions avoided me ; thus I had no\r 
 abundant leisure for reflection.. Some time elapsed, before the change, 
 which had taken place, reached the extremity of those circles, in which I 
 had moved. Many who heard, lent no credence to a report, which 
 they believed without foundation. The greater number of those laugh- 
 ter-loving beings, who had attached themselves to me, never having im- 
 bibed any religious sentiments, had not learned the habits of my former 
 life. Many individuals called upon me as usual, and found me a differ- 
 ent man, from him, whom they had been accustomed to see. A few, 
 suspecting the cause, sought to relieve my mind, by warm, and liberal 
 assurances of never-failing friendship ; and they generously tendered the 
 unlimited use of their purses ! I made my acknowledgments ; but 
 assured them, the whole world, as a bribe, would be insufficient to 
 lead me again into paths of folly. I was not, I said, unhappy because 
 I no longer possessed ability to run the career of error, certainly not ; 
 my infelicity originated, from the consideration, that 1 had ever receded 
 from the paths of peace. Some resented my remarks, as a tacit insult 
 upon themselves ; others ridiculed me, and pronounced me under the 
 influence of a strong delirium ; and two or three, who still loved me 
 too w r ell to separate themselves from me, were, for a time, induced to 
 reflect seriously upon their own situation : but these, also, shortly dis- 
 appeared ; and, of the numerous triflers, \\dth whom I had* so many 
 months fluttered, not a single loiterer remained ; and most devoutly 
 did I render thanks to Almighty God, for extricating me from such 
 associates. I boarded in the house of a very lively, vivacious man ; 
 indeed, his whole family might have been denominated sons and 
 daughters of mirth : This fact had been their principal recommendation 
 to me, but it now added to the burden of my mind. I made inquiry 
 after another lodging, but, on contemplating a removal, difficulties, to 
 which I had not before recurred, stared me in the face. I was consid- 
 erably in arrears to my host, and, as I must depart in a different state of 
 mind, from that which I was in, when I became his lodger, and which 
 had impressed him in my favour ; I could not expect he would be very 
 kindly disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and my dis- 
 tresses seemed hourly to accumulate. Both present and future support 
 were alike beyond my reach, and it appeared to me, I had attained 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 75 
 
 ihe climax of misery. I closed my door, 1 prostrated myself before 
 the God who had created me, beseeching him to have mercy upon me ; 
 af ain my sad, my sorrowing heart, revisited the home I had abandon- 
 ed ; stripped of its allurements, my mad passion for travelling appear- 
 ed in its native deformity ; agonizing dread overtook me, and my terri- 
 fied imagination pointed out, and anticipated, a thousand horrors. 
 Many devices were suggested to my forlorn mind, and death itself was 
 presented as my last resort. But starting from an idea so impious, Let 
 me, 1 exclaimed, at least avoid plunging into irremediable perdition. 
 Thus I spent the day, and in the evening I attended the tabernacle. 
 I considered myself, while there, as the most destitute individual in the 
 whole assembly. I generally occupied a remote corner, my arms were 
 folded, my eyes cast down, and my tears flowing ; indeed, my eyes were 
 seldom dry, and my heart was always full ; for, at this period of my 
 life, I rarely tasted any thing like consolation. Coming out of the tab- 
 ernacle, one evening, a serious young man thus accosted me : " Cheer 
 up, thou weeping, sorrowing soul be of good cheer, thy God will save 
 thee." I caught his hand ; God bless you, my dear sir, whoever you 
 are ! but you do not know to whom you are speaking. " Oh yes, I 
 am speaking to a sinner, like myself." No, no, I returned, the wide 
 world does not contain so great a sinner as myself ; for, in the face of an 
 education, calculated to eradicate every evil propensity ; and of pre- 
 cepts, and examples, drawn from our most holy religion, which ought 
 to have rendered me a uniform servant of the Most High ; I have ming- 
 led in circles, consisting of the idle, the dissipated, and the profane ; I 
 have run the career of folly, and the anguish of my soul is a consequence 
 of my manifold offences. The kind-hearted young man, strove to pour 
 into my wounds the oil and wine of consolation. We walked togeth- 
 er, quite through Moorfields ; at his request, I promised to meet him 
 at the tabernacle the ensuing evening, and I was greatly impatient for 
 the appointed time. Passing Moorfields, agreeably to my engage- 
 ments, I beheld a large congregation assembled to hear one of Mr. 
 Wesley's preachers : I tarried until I saw the preacher mount the 
 stage, but what were my emotions, when I recognised him, of whom I 
 was so fond, in the house of Mr. Little, and who first introduced me as 
 a public speaker. I hastily withdrew from the place, terrified, lest his 
 eye should meet mine ; but my soul was tortured by the comparison of 
 what I was, when I first saw him, with my present situation. I was 
 this evening much affected ; indeed, it was impossible for any child of 
 sorrow to attend upon Mr. Whitefield" without feelings of the most 
 
70 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 impressive nature. I looked around for my companion of the past 
 evening, but I saw him not ; and I was pained by the disappointment. 
 On my departing from the tabernacle, however, he again took my hand, 
 assuring me, he was glad to see me, and repeating a verse of a hymn : 
 " We shall not always make our moan," &c. &c. which hymn, 1 had 
 often sang/ and of which I was very fond. I melted into tears ; this 
 man appeared to me, as an angel of God, and most devoutly did I 
 bless the Father of my spirit, for sending me such a comforter. I w r as 
 in haste to unbosom myself to him, to make him acquainted with the 
 extent of my errors ; but this was a subject, upon which he did not 
 seem in haste to hear me. He, however, urged me to draw consola- 
 tion from the promises of our God, which he pronounced all yea, and 
 amen, in the Redeemer : He also expressed a wish to meet me, at the 
 table of the Lord, upon the following Sunday ; for this, my own heart 
 ardently panted, and I engaged, if possible, to obtain a ticket of admit- 
 tance. My concern for my very reprehensible aberrations, as they af- 
 fected my spiritual interest, so completely occupied my mind, that I 
 had little leisure for reflection upon my pecuniary embarrassments, yet 
 my circumstances were truly deplorable. I was in debt, without the 
 means of making payment, nor had I any prospect of future support. 
 I disdained to ask charity, and the business, of which I had obtained a 
 superficial knowledge in Ireland, was not encouraged in London. The 
 friend, whom I first saw at the tabernacle, had continued a vigilant ob- 
 server of my conduct; he had frequently visited me, and my eyes con- 
 vinced him I was no longer the gay, inconsiderate wanderer, but truly 
 a man of sorrow. Compassionating my sufferings, he invited me to his 
 pleasant home, and, in a voice of friendship, requested I would pour into 
 his bosom all my griefs. I did so, and his resolution was instantly ta- 
 ken. To my great consolation, he engaged to procure me, immediate- 
 ly, another lodging, to make my present landlord easy, and to procure 
 for me, if I was willing, the means of future support ; and this, without 
 rendering me dependent, except upon my own regular efforts, and the 
 Being, who had called me into existence. Let the feeling heart judge 
 of the indescribable transports, which this conversation originated in my 
 soul. Gratitude swelled in my boscv.i ; 1 experienced all its sweet en- 
 thusiasm ; and hardly could I control my impatience, for the execu- 
 tion of a plan, in every view so desirable. The lodging was immedi- 
 ately obtained ; it was at the house of an old lady, in Bishopgate's 
 street, where was appropriated solely to my use, a neat, and well fur- 
 nished apartment. The succeeding morning, this benevolent gentle- 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 77 
 
 man attended me to my late lodging, when, inquiring the amount of my 
 debt, T was answered, " Not a penny." I stood amazed. " No," said 
 my good-natured host, " not a penny. But pray what is the matter, 
 where have you been, where are you going ? O ! dear, O ! dear, these 
 abominable Methodists have spoiled as clever a fellow, as ever broke 
 bread ; I suppose you think we are not good enough for you, and so 
 you wish to leave us." I was greatly affected. Excuse me, sir ; I do 
 not believe myself a whit better than you ; but, sir, I am afraid of myself. 
 " Ah ! you have no occasion : I am sorry you are going, upon my soul 
 I am. You ought to stay and convert me." Ah ! sir, it is God, who 
 must convert both you, and me. We shed tears at parting ; but our 
 tears flowed from a different source. He wept, that he should no more 
 be amused with the whim and frolic of a gay young man ; I, that I had 
 ever sojourned in his house. I was, however, suitably impressed by 
 his kindness, although our intercourse from this moment entirely ceased. 
 The following week, I obtained a situation, as one of the aids to an 
 inspector of a broadcloth manufactory ; I was glad to obtain employ- 
 ment at any rate. Yet it is a fact, I was never designed for a man of 
 business. Nor was I fully satisfied with my associates ; they were not 
 in my way, and they, therefore, made me a subject of ridicule ; this, to 
 weak minds, is perhaps a species of persecution, of all others the 
 most difficult to endure. I certainly suffered much from it ; but, if I 
 could obtain no satisfaction with them, I had the more, whenever I 
 left them, which was upon the evening of every day, and the whole of 
 Sunday. I was delighted by the consideration, that I was living by 
 my own exertions, and in a way to discharge debts, which were a 
 heavy burden upon my mind. I lived frugally, retrenching every su- 
 perfluity, and uniformly denying myself all, but the absolute necessaries- 
 of life ; and I had very soon the felicity of knowing, that I had no 
 longer a creditor. This complete exoneration was followed by a new- 
 ly revived and ecstatic hope, of being again admitted to my father's 
 house, from which, I once feared, I was eternally excluded : And I 
 deemed myself happy, beyond expression happy, upon comparing 
 myself with those, among whom I was compelled to live ; who were 
 posting, without concern, in what I deemed the road to ruin; from which 
 I had, by divino favour,^een mercifully drawn ; my bosom swelled 
 with the most delightful sensations, while I frequently exclaimed, Lord, 
 why me ? Why take me, and leave these poor, unfortunate beings to 
 perish in a state of sin, and misery ? But such was the sovereign will 
 and pleasure of my God : he would have mercy, on \vhoni he would 
 
78 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 have mercy, and whom he would be hardened. Sometimes, indeed, 
 my soul was sick with doubt and apprehension. When engaged in the 
 work of self-examination, one evil propensity, after another, which I 
 had believed dead, seemed to revive in my bosom : I feared, that my 
 faith was all fancy ; and that the hope, which I encouraged, was the hope 
 of the hypocrite, which would be as the giving up of the ghost. Upon 
 these occasions, I experienced unutterable anguish, and my days and 
 nights were, with very little intermission, devoted to sorrow. The dis- 
 tress, I so evidently suffered, endeared me to my new religious connex- 
 ions ; every one of whom endeavoured to administer consolation, en- 
 couraging me to cherish hope, from the consideration of my despair ! 
 My life was now more active than it had ever been, and my connexions 
 more numerous. I was much occupied by business, yet my hours of 
 devotion were sacred ; I rose at four o'clock, in summer and winter. 
 My meals consumed but a small portion of time. The moments, thus 
 passed by others, were, by me, devoted to private prayer. My evenings 
 were passed at the tabernacle, and, when Mr. Whitefield preached, my 
 soul was transported. I returned home exceedingly refreshed, and 
 prostrating myself at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowledged with 
 gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, who had graciously 
 separated me from those, who were murdering their time, and their pre- 
 cious souls ; and my thanksgivings were reiterated to that God, who 
 had mercifully rescued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus roll- 
 ed on the week, until Sunday ; to me, indeed, a holy day, and one to 
 which I looked forward with the most delightful anticipations. Upon 
 this morning, I arose even earlier than usual ; attending either at the 
 tabernacle, or at the chapel, in Tottenham-court, at which places the 
 communion was alternately given, every Sunday morning. Great 
 numbers attended upon these occasions, who were not regular taberna- 
 cle worshippers ; obtaining a ticket of admittance, they took their seats. 
 It appeared to me, like a prelibation of heaven. The Elect of God, 
 from every denomination, assembled round the table of the Lord ; a 
 word of consolation was always given, and an evangelical hymn most 
 delightfully sung. These Sunday mornings were, indeed, golden op- 
 portunities ; my doubts were generally removed, and I came home in 
 raptures. It was in such a peacefully religious frame of mind as this, 
 that I was passing from the tabernacle, on a fine summer's morning, 
 deriving high satisfaction from the consideration, that I loved the breth- 
 ren. I know, said I, internally, that I have passed from death unto 
 life, because I love the brethren. It is true, I felt a very strong affec- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 79 
 
 tion for those, with whom I had communed in the tabernacle ; but, 
 passing over Moorfields, I saw a crowd of people, collected under ihe 
 shade of a large tree. I inquired of a passenger, what occasioned the 
 assembling of such a multitude ; and T was informed, one of James 
 Reily's preachers, was disseminating his damnable doctrines to the in- 
 fatuated people ! My soul kindled with indignation ; and, from the 
 abundance of an heart, overflowing with religious zeal, I could not 
 forbear exclaiming : Merciful God ! How is it, that Thou wilt suffer 
 this Demon thus to proceed ? are not mankind naturally bad enough, but 
 must these wretches be suffered to give publicity to tenets, so perni- 
 cious, so destructive ? thus, in the name of God, doing the work of the 
 Devil. At this period, I should have considered myself highly favour- 
 ed, to have been made an instrument, in the hand of God, for taking 
 the life of a man, whom I had never heard, nor even seen ; and, in de- 
 stroying him, I should have nothing doubted, that I had rendered es- 
 sential service, both to the Creator and the created. I did not then 
 know, how much I was leavened with the leaven of the Pharisees ; and 
 that, notwithstanding my assurance of having passed from death, unto 
 life, in consequence of loving the brethren, this boasted love extended 
 to none, but those of my own persuasion. I always returned from the 
 tabernacle, with my heart filled with religious zeal. The intermission 
 of public w r orship was always appropriated to private devotion ; in a 
 word, all my devotional habits were restored, and my Sundays were 
 an exact transcript of those, which I had passed in the family of my 
 father. The Sundays, upon which I took my seat at the communion 
 table, in the chapel, were more abundantly fatiguing.. The chapel 
 was some miles from my lodgings ; but I never absented myself, ei- 
 ther summer or winter, and I greatly exulted when I was the first, who 
 appeared within its consecrated walls. The more I suffered in reaching 
 this place, the more I enjoyed when there ; and often,while passing the 
 streets of London, in the midst of storms of rain or snow, my heart has 
 swelled with transport, in the thought, that I was going to Heaven by- 
 means of these difficulties, and trials ; while the many, who were then 
 sleeping, were suspended over the pit of destruction, into which they 
 must one day fall, to rise again no more forever. And why, Oh ! why, 1 
 used to repeat, am I snitched, as a brand from the burning ; why am I. 
 an offender against light, against precept, and example, made a blessed 
 heir of Heaven, while far the greater part of my species are consigned 
 to endless misery ? There were a number 9f young people, of both 
 sexes, who, having assembled from 3 great distance, could not return 
 
80 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 home after service, in season for breakfast. One of the society kept a 
 house near the chapel, where individuals thus circumstanced were ac- 
 commodated. There we often collected, and our opportunities were 
 delightful. Being remarkable for a humble demeanour, I was, on this 
 account, much noticed and caressed ; and I rarely quitted the assembly 
 without a heart overflowing with love, and gratitude, toward God and 
 His dear children. I was not confined to any particular place of 
 worship ; I was accustomed to present myself, at the stated times, in 
 various congregations; wherever I heard of a great man, I made a 
 point of attending upon his labours. Among the many places of pub- 
 lic worship, to which I resorted, there was a Baptist meeting, where I 
 obtained great satisfaction. The minister was a warm, animated 
 preacher, and the people uncommonly serious. To this house many 
 of the Tabernacle adherents resorted ; for, at this time, there was no ser- 
 vice at that place, except in the morning, and evening. In a vestry, 
 attached to the Baptist meeting, many of the congregation met, before 
 the commencement of divine service, and some of them alternately 
 sang and prayed. By those persons, I was received with great kind- 
 ness ; this affected me exceedingly ; and perceiving that it did, they 
 loved me yet more for the value 1 evidently set upon their affection, 
 till, at length, I became an object of general attention. United plans 
 were laid to draw me out, and I had pressing invitations to their reli- 
 gious societies, and afterwards to their houses. The minister distin- 
 guished me ; solicited me to visit him ; and delighted to speak peace to 
 me, both publicly, and privately. I was entreated to pray in the soci- 
 ety, which, as a timid, and unpatronized stranger, I had so recently 
 entered ! I complied, and every one seemed affected ; I myself was 
 greatly moved, deeply penetrated by reflection, upon what I had been, 
 and what I "then was, and my soul was transported by the considera- 
 tion, that I was re-admitted into the society of the people of God. My 
 presence was now anxiously expected in the congregation, and at the 
 houses of many individuals ; I was marked by those, who attended at 
 the tabernacle, and many other places of worship ; and I was so much 
 caressed, by serious people of sundry persuasions, that, when I have 
 been asked, what denomination I was of, I have replied, an indepen- 
 dent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. I hardly knew which of those I 
 liked best, or loved most ; and Mr. Whitefield, upon whom they all 
 occasionally attended, strove, both by precept and example, to convince 
 
 ^ us, that a difference, respecting non-essentials, was utterly inconsistent 
 
 i with the Christian character. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 81 
 
 Among the many, who extended to me the hand of amity, was a 
 merchant, who never appeared so happy, as when conversing with me : 
 he received me into his house, and employed me in his counting room ; 
 here I fancied my circumstances improved, but I was deceived. This 
 gentleman was a mere superficial professor of Religion, which, when 
 I discovered, I determined to return to my former situation. I had 
 paid all my debts ; I was easy, and occasionally happy, and I allowed 
 myself many little indulgences, which, while a debtor, I should have 
 believed criminal. 
 
 The leaving my new patron gave me, however, some pain ; he had 
 a very high opinion of me, although I could not reciprocate his esteem. 
 He was ambitious of obtaining a name in the Church, and, for this 
 purpose, he contemplated the observance of morning and evening 
 prayer in his family ; but, not being an early riser, he was at a loss to 
 know how to reconcile his devotions with his business. At last he said: 
 " You, my friend, are accustomed to perform the honours of my table. 
 If you prolong your grace at breakfast, it will answer for morning 
 prayer !" Greatly shocked, and completely disgusted, my determina- 
 tion to quit him was confirmed. I was still very communicative, and, 
 consequently, the reason of my departure was generally known ; so 
 that my once warm friend was, as may be supposed, converted into 
 a bitter enemy. I was, however, rather commended, than censured, 
 while the conduct of the man of business excited general contempt. 
 This gratified me ! alas, the piety of this world is based on pride ! 
 I now became, as far as I was known, an object of attention in every 
 place, where vital Religion, as it was phrased, obtaining its votaries. 
 Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and many other clergymen, distinguished 
 me. Hints were thrown out respecting my once more coming for- 
 ward as a public teacher ; but against this I was determined. I was 
 astonished, that I had ever dared to venture upon so responsible an as- 
 sumption ! As the eternal well being of the many was supposed to rest 
 with the preacher, an error in judgment would consequently be fatal 
 to his hearers ; and, as I had now learned that I was not perfect in 
 knowledge, I could not be assured, I should not lead the people astray : 
 in which tremendous event they would, to all eternity, be imprecating 
 curses on my head. Considerations of such magnitude were sufficient 
 to seal my lips ; but I was characterized as a pattern of piety, and 
 my experiences were greedily sought, by individuals of various denom- 
 inations. There was a society, belonging to a Baptist meeting, near 
 Good Man's fields, which met statedly.at each other's houses once eve- 
 
82 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ry week ; this was the society, in which I was most admired, and to 
 which, of course, I was the most attached. In this society there were 
 individuals, who, like myself, were tabernacle worshippers, but who 
 attended this meeting, when there was no service there. I had sur- 
 rendered up my whole soul to those religious exercises, which the sev- 
 eral societies, to which I had attached myself, demanded. My plan 
 was to devote myself wholly to my God, to the advancement of my 
 spiritual interest, to considerations pertaining to the kingdom of heav- 
 en. Wedded life, a family, these made no part of my plan ; I was 
 persuaded, I should pass my life in celibacy ; and, had monastic seclu- 
 sion consisted with Protestantism, I should gladly have embraced its re- 
 tirement, with its duties. In the society, collected near Good Man's fields, 
 there was a young gentleman remarkable for the sanctity of his manners ; 
 we were strongly, and mutually attached to each other. Many, very 
 many happy hours did we pass together. During the winter, we were 
 constantly at the tabernacle before day. We narrated to each other 
 our experiences ; we prayed, we wept, we joyed, and sorrowed together ; 
 and, with unfeigned affection, we loved one another. I questioned 
 him respecting his connexions, when he informed me, that his parents 
 had died in his infancy ; that he had been brought up by his grand- 
 father, who was a very profligate old gentleman, and abhorred the very 
 name of Whitefield ! But, he added, that, through the mercy of God, 
 he was not entirely alone. He had a sister with him in the family, 
 reared also by his grand parent, who was a good, and gracious girl ; 
 that their nights were frequently devoted to prayer ; but that they dared 
 not let their grandfather know they had ever been seen at the taber- 
 nacle, or in any of those societies, from which they derived their chief 
 happiness. Indeed, he observed, his sister seldom ventured out ; but 
 he had made such representations of me, that she had desired him to 
 let her know, when I should agajn meet the Baptist society, and she 
 would make a point of being there ; and, I request you, said he, my 
 dear sir, to be at the society next Sunday evening, and she will most 
 unquestionably be there. I cannot say, I had any curiosity respecting 
 this young lady ; but Sunday night came, I was expected, and the 
 great room, was filled previous to my arrival. I entered, every one 
 rose at my.,&ntraBce, and I felt dignifiedly pious, seriously happy. 
 My young friend approached, and told me, in a whisper, his sister 
 would have been greatly disappointed, had any thing detained me that 
 evening. On my entrance I had glanced a young lady, extremely 
 beautiful, who appeared attired by the hand of elegance ; it was with 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 83 
 
 difficulty I could take my eyes from her ! I was confounded, I changed 
 ray seat, that I might not behold her, and, when thus addressed by Mr. 
 Jeale, I responded by asking where his sister was seated, when he 
 pointed to the fascinating figure, who had so imposingly attracted my 
 attention. " That young lady, sir, is Miss Neaie my sister; she has 
 long wished for an opportunity of seeing you ; I am happy that she is 
 now gratified." An introduction was in course ; I had much to say 
 through the evening, and my friend declared I had never spoken better. 
 I addressed the throne of grace ; my own heart was softened, and the 
 hearts of my audience were softened also. I returned home, but the 
 beauteous image of the sister of my friend accompanied me ! I could 
 not for a moment exclude the lovely intruder from my imagination. 
 I was alarmed ; I wept, I prayed, but every effort was fruitless ; the 
 more I strove to forget her, the more she was remembered. I was im- 
 patient to behold her again, yet I most devoutly wished we had never 
 met. I was convinced my peace, my happiness were forever fled ! 
 This was truly astonishing ; I had recently been so positive, that the 
 combined sex did not possess the power to engage my attention for a 
 single moment. Some time elapsed, during which the captivating 
 engrosser of my heart never relinquished, no, not for a single instant, 
 that entire possession, which she had taken of my imagination ; when, 
 after an evening lecture, while the congregation were quitting the 
 meeting-house, a lady, who kept a boarding-school for young ladies, 
 requested I would pass the next evening at her house, as her young 
 people were to collect their friends, and she wished some one to introduce 
 religious conversation. I had no inclination to accept this invitation, 
 and I accordingly made my excuses ; but the good lady continued to 
 press me, and added, I expect Miss Neale will be of the party. Of 
 this imposing article of intelligence, I experienced the full force ; but 
 I endeavoured to disguise my emotions ; and, the request being once 
 more repeated, I consented, and returned home, notwithstanding all 
 my resolutions, transported with the prospect of once more beholding 
 the dear object of my admiration. That I was now become a real 
 lover, there could be no doubt. I was early at the place appointed, 
 and my enraptured heart danced with joy, when I once more beheld 
 the triumphant fair one ; I was happy to observe, that she regarded me 
 with marked attention, but her predilection was rather for the Chris- 
 tian, than the man. I was, however, beyond expression elated, and 
 my conversation partook of the elevation of my soul. The evening was 
 nothing : it was gone, ere I was sensiblejt had well commenced. Eliza, 
 
84 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 for that was her fascinating name, arose to take leave ; I was greatly 
 chagrined, I had calculated upon attending her home ; but a confiden- 
 tial friend had been sent to take charge of her. I ventured, however, 
 to express a hope, that I should see her at Mrs. Allen's, a friend, warm- 
 ly attached to us both, on the following Wednesday evening. She 
 modestly replied, she would endeavour to be there ; and in the in- 
 terim, I sought to learn if she were disengaged, but I could obtain no 
 satisfactory information. The appointed evening was passed most de- 
 lightfully, at Mrs. Allen's ; I had the felicity of attending the young 
 lady home, and the temerity to ask such questions, as extorted an ac- 
 knowledgment, that she was not engaged. With trembling eagerness, 
 I then ventured to propose myself as a candidate for her favour. 
 " Alas ! sir," she replied, " you have formed too high an opinion of my 
 character ; I trust you will meet a person much more deserving of you, 
 than I can pretend to be." I re-urged my ' suit, with all the fervour, 
 which youth, and an irrepressible passion could furnish. Her answer is 
 indelibly engraved upon the tablets of my memory. " You, and I, 
 sir, profess to believe in an over-ruling Providence, we have both ac- 
 cess to the throne of our heavenly Father. Let us, sir, unbosom our- 
 selves to our God ; I shall, I do assure you ; so I am persuaded will 
 you ; and if, after we have thus done, we obtain the sanction of the 
 Most High, I trust I shall be resigned." We had now reached her 
 habitation, the threshold of which, no professed follower of Whitefield 
 was ever allowed to pass. I supplicated for permission to write to 
 her, and, in the full confidence of Christian amity, she acceded to the 
 prayer of my petition. From this period, no week passed, during 
 which we did not exchange letters, and the pages, we filled, might have 
 been submitted to the most rigid inspection. Mrs. Allen was our 
 confidant, and every letter, which passed between us, was put into the 
 hand of this discreet matron, without a seal. At the house of this lady 
 we had frequent interviews, but never without witnesses, and our time 
 was passed in singing hymns, and in devout prayer. I now believed 
 myself the happiest being in creation ; I was certain of possessing a 
 most inestimable treasure ; and although the grandfather of rny Eliza, 
 upon whom rested her whole dependence, never saw me ; and, if he 
 had, never would have sanctioned our union, we cherished that hope, 
 which so generally proves fallacious. The dear girl requested me to 
 seek, and obtain the explicit approbation of her brother, that she might 
 at least insure his countenance ; and upon my application to him, he 
 unhesitatingly replied: " I consider, dear sir, my sister as highly honoured 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 by your proposals." But, sir, have we your consent ? " Undoubtedly. 
 sir, and with my whole heart." This was sufficient, and I was com- 
 pletely happy. But, alas ! " never did the course of true love run. 
 smooth." We were on the verge of a most distressing calamity : this 
 brother, in whom we had reposed unlimited confidence, became my 
 inveterate foe, and writing an anonymous letter to his grandfather, he 
 represented me as a fortune-hunter, who was seeking to obtain the 
 heart of his grand-daughter, for the purpose of making a prey of her 
 property ! This letter produced the desired effect ; the old gentleman 
 was extremely irritated, and, sending for Eliza, he put the letter into 
 her hand, and sternly asked her, if she had entered into any engage- 
 ment with a person by the name of Murray ? when, receiving an an- 
 swer in the affirmative, he gave full credit to all the rest, and being a 
 man of violent passions, he threatened her with the loss of his favour, if 
 she did not immediately promise to renounce me forever. He was well 
 apprized, if he could obtain her promise, he had nothing further to ap- 
 prehend. The firm, self-collected girl, implored his pardon, if she did 
 not yield credence to the slanders, contained in the despicable scrawl 
 he had placed in her hand ; she besought him to see me, to converse 
 with me ; promising, that if, upon a personal acquaintance, he continued 
 to disapprove, she would endeavour to bend her mind to aw acquies- 
 cence with his will. Her grandfather was inexorable ; he would ad- 
 mit no conditions ; and ultimately assured the young lady, if she did 
 not relinquish every thought of me, she must give up all idea of ever 
 receiving a single penny of his property. He granted her three days 
 for deliberation, during which period, she was to consider herself a 
 prisoner. Of this, most unexpected event, I speedily gained intelli- 
 gence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To Eliza I could 
 have no access, and even the intercourse, by letter, was suspended ! 
 In this state of agonizing suspense I remained, until, through the in- 
 strumentality of the chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Al- 
 len for me, which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her 
 sufferings, contained the fullest assurance of her unbroken faith, and 
 steadfastness. She recommended it to me, to apply to the same Source, 
 from whence she herself had derived consolation ; to the Almighty 
 Father of our spirits, who held in His hands all hearts; and, she added, 
 that no power, short of Omnipotence, should ever prevail upon her to 
 give her hand, unaccompanied by her heart ; and that, in a few hours, 
 she should be so circumstanced, .-is to prove the sincerity of my affec- 
 tion, for she was speedily to render hef final, answer to her grand fath- 
 
 M 
 
86 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 er. She hoped for divine support, during the arduous trial, to which 
 she was called to submit ; and she most earnestly solicited my prayers 
 in her behalf. A second letter was soon handed me, giving an account 
 of the second interview. "Well, my dear child," said the old gen- 
 tleman, " what am I to expect ? am I to lose my daughter, the com- 
 fort of my declining life ? Or will you have compassion upon my old 
 age, and relinquish this interested, designing man ?" " If, my dear sir, 
 I had any reason for supposing the person, of whom you speak, such as 
 you believe him, the relinquishment, which you require, would not cost 
 an effort ; but, sir, Mr. Murray is an honest man, he has a sincere af- 
 fection for me, I have given him reason to hope, and, until I am con- 
 vinced he is unworthy of my esteem, I cannot consent to treat him as 
 if he were." Here the passions of the old gentleman began to rise, 
 whn the dear girl besought him to be calm, assuring him it was neith- 
 er her wish, nor intention to leave him ; nay more, she would pledge her 
 word never to leave him, while she could have the felicity of attending 
 upon him, if he would not insist upon her violating her faith, tacitly 
 given to me. But this would not do ; she must abandon her lover or 
 her fortune ; and finding her determined, he arose from his chair, and 
 seizing his will, in which he had bequeathed her one thousand pounds 
 sterling, he furiously flung it into the flames, immediately causing 
 another will to be written, in which he gave to her brother, the portion 
 designed for her : and thus did this young incendiary obtain the ob- 
 ject, for which he had laboured, and to which he had most nefariously, 
 and darkly, grouped his way. I had now the felicity of learning, that 
 my Eliza had a stronger value for me, than for her patrimony ; and 
 she observed to her grandfather, that he had furnished her with an 
 opportunity of proving the sincerity of my attachment. " If," said 
 she, " his views are such, as you have been taught to believe, he will 
 shortly relinquish me, and thus have I, most opportunely, obtained a 
 criterion." Never did I receive a piece of intelligence productive of o 
 much heart-felt pleasure, as the certainty of that potent prepossession, 
 which could thus enable her, whom I esteemed the most perfect of 
 human beings, to surrender up, without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. 
 Words cannot delineate, how greatly I conceived myself enriched by 
 this blissful assurance. Still I met the brother of Eliza, at the Taber- 
 nacle, and occasionally at private societies, and still he wore the sem- 
 blance of amity. Previous to this event, the elder Mr. Neale, who 
 was always my friend, had become the head of a family ; during a 
 few weeks, we continued id statu quo, when my invidious calumniator 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. ' 87 
 
 requested me, by a written message, to give him a meeting at the house 
 of his aunt, a lady who resided next door to his grandfather. I obeyed 
 the summons, when, to my great astonishment, he informed me, it was 
 his sister's wish, I would think of her no more ; that there were many 
 young ladies, with whom I might form a connexion, abundantly more 
 advantageous ; and that for herself, she was weary of contending with 
 her grandfather. During the whole of this studied harangue, the tor- 
 ture of my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a most distressing 
 pause, I tremblingly interrogated : Tell me, sir, has Miss Neale really 
 empowered you to act in her behalf? " If you doubt it, here is a letter, 
 written with her own hand, furnished me upon a presumption, that I 
 might not obtain a speedy opportunity of seeing you ;" and he put 
 the letter into my hand. Mr. Neale knew not, that I was in possession 
 of many of his sister's letters ; he knew not, that she had ever written 
 to me ; if he had, he would hardly have exhibited this scrawl, as hers. 
 The anguish of my soul was no more ; yet I assayed to conceal my 
 emotions, and contented myself with solemnly declaring, that it was 
 only from the lips of Miss Neale I would accept my dismission. 
 " You may," said he, "rest assured, you will never, with her own con- 
 sent, again see that young lady." Thus spake, thus acted the man, 
 whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's communion. 
 Leading Mr. Neale, I returned to my lodgings, sat down and related 
 to Eliza the whole business, inclosing the letter I had received as hers. 
 The ensuing day gave me an assurance, under her own hand, that the 
 whole procedure was unknown to her ; requesting, that I would remain 
 perfectly easy ; that I would keep my mind entirely to myself, making 
 application only to the wonderful Counsellor, and resting in full as- 
 surance of her fidelity. This was enough, and my full soul rejoiced in 
 the consolation, thus seasonably afforded me. Mr. Neale, supposing his 
 arts had succeeded, brought forward proposals in favour of a gentle- 
 man, educated by his grandfather, who had long loved my Eliza : 
 but who, fearful of a rejection, had not disclosed his passion. Com- 
 mon fame soon wafted to my ear the report of these new pretensions : 
 the gentleman was, in every respect, my superior, and he was declared 
 a successful rival. I met the object of my soul's affection at Mrs. Al- 
 len's ; I communicated the lacerating intelligence I had received ; she 
 smiled, tacitly assured me I had not much to apprehend, arid accord- 
 ing to custom, added, Let us improve our opportunity in the best possi- 
 ble manner, let us devote it to prayer, and to praise. Thus revolved 
 days, weeks, and months : hoping, and fearing, joying, and sorrowing. 
 
88 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 while rny gentle, my amiable friend, painfully reciprocated every anx- 
 iety. It was supposed, by her connexions, that she had relinquished 
 her purpose in my favour, and a succession of advantageous proposals 
 were brought forward, all of which she decisively rejected. Once a 
 week, she was permitted to visit, when she never forgot to call upon 
 Mrs. Allen. She also allowed me to attend her every Sunday morn- 
 ing before day, during the winter ; and I considered myself supremely 
 happy, in the privilege of presenting myself at her dwelling, on those 
 holy days, by four o'clock, waiting her appearance ; and often have 
 I been eyed with suspicion by the watch, and, in fact, I was once 
 taken up. Neither storms nor tempests arrested my steps ; and some- 
 times I have tarried, until the dawning day compelled me to retire, 
 when I was obliged to pass on, in melancholy solitude, to the Taber- 
 nacle. Yet, between love and devotion,! was a very happy, very dis- 
 consolate being. I richly enjoyed the pleasures of anticipation, which 
 are generally believed to exceed possession ; yet my own experience 
 is very far from acknowledging the justice of this hypothesis. I con- 
 tinued in this state more than a year, snatching enjoyments when I 
 could, and placing confidence in futurity. In the course of this year, 
 my insidious, although still professing friend, married a lady of some 
 property two thousand pounds sterling ; his grandfather adding two 
 thousand more, one of which he had designed as provision for his 
 grand-daughter ; and, strange as it may appear, this angel girl uttered 
 not, upon this occasion, a single reproach ! The new alliance strength- 
 ed the family interest against me ; the lady, without knowing me, was 
 my inveterate foe. It was about this time discovered, that the attach- 
 ment of Eliza remained in full force. Her grandfather imagined, that 
 we cherished hope of a change in his sentiments, or that we should ul- 
 timately, at least in the event of his death, come into possession of some 
 part of his property ; and, that he might effectually crush every expec- 
 tation, he so managed, as to put his most valuable possessions out of 
 his own power. The period at length arrived, which completed the 
 minority of my tender friend ; it was upon the eighteenth day of May, 
 and this day, the elder Mr. Neale, who, as has been observed, had still 
 continued my fast friend, determined to render a gala, by passing it 
 with me in the country. With the early dawn we commenced our 
 little excursion, when we beheld, at a distance, a young lady with a 
 small parcel in her hand ; we approached her, and, to our great aston- 
 ishment, recognised, in this young lady, the sister of my friend, the 
 precious object of my most ardent love. Upon that memorable morn- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY- 89 
 
 ing she had quitted the house of her grandfather, and all she possessed, 
 that had been his, leaving upon her writing desk a letter, which lay 
 there, until the family, alarmed at her not making her appearance at 
 the breakfast table, entered her apartment, whence the lovely sufferer 
 had so recently flown. The letter furnished an explanation ; it was ad- 
 dressed to her grandfather, and it informed him, that the writer would 
 ever acknowledge unreturnable obligations, for the many favours he 
 had conferred upon her ; that, if she could have been indulged with 
 her wish of living with him, she should have been content ; but, as 
 the solicitations to enter into matrimonial engagements, by which she 
 was persecuted, were unceasing, she was convinced she should not be 
 allowed to give this testimony of her filial attachment ; and being now 
 of age, she begged leave to deliver up the keys, the sums of money, 
 with which she had been entrusted, and whatever else had pertained to 
 her grandfather ; adding an assurance, that she should no more return. 
 Her brother William immediately conducted her to his house, whith- 
 er I attended them, and where, by her positive orders, we were obliged 
 to leave her. Agreeably to her request, we proceeded on our propos- 
 ed walk, and we learned on our return, that repented messengers had 
 been dispatched by her grandfather, soliciting her again to become an 
 inmate in his house, and that the lady of her youngest brother had 
 been commissioned for this purpose ; but that every entreaty had 
 proved ineffectual. For me, fondly flattering myself, that I should 
 immediately excjjan^e my vows with my amiable, my affianced friend, 
 at the altar of our uod, I was superlatively happy ; but again my 
 high-wrought expectations proved fallacious. This strong-minded 
 woman was a votary of propriety, and she was determined it should 
 not appear, that she had quitted a parent, for the purpose of throwing 
 herself into the Wins of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal 
 roof, because she could not, while there, be allowed the exercise of her 
 own judgment ; because measures were taking to compel her to marry 
 a man, she could never approve. Her eldest brother, her beloved 
 William, she was confident would patronize, and protect her ; and 
 her needle was a resource, from which she could al ways derive a com- 
 petency. 
 
90 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Author becomes a happy husband^ a happy father. He embraces 
 " the tnith, as it is in Jesus ;" and from this, and other combining 
 causes, he is involved in great difficulties. Death deprives him of 
 his wedded friend, and of his infant son, and he is overtaken by a 
 series of calamities. 
 
 Hail ! wedded love ! Connubial friendship, hail ! 
 Bas'd on esteem,.. ..if love supplies the gale, 
 Borne on life's stream, we cut our beamy way, 
 On smooth seas wafted to the realms of day. 
 
 1 FTER six tedious months, from the morning of my Eliza's depar- 
 ture from the mansion of her grandfather, had completed their tar- 
 dy round, yielding to my unremitted importunities, she consented to 
 accompany me to the altar. We were attended by William, and his 
 lady, with our dear Mrs. Allen ; and I received, from the hands of our 
 very dear brother, an inestimable treasure, which constituted me, in my 
 own estimation, the happiest of human beings. As I had no house pre- 
 pared, I gratefully accepted the kindness of this beloved brother, who 
 invited us to tarry with him, until we could accommodate ourselves ; 
 and; if I except one unhappy misunderstanding, which took place soon 
 after our marriage, no wedded pair were ever blessed with more unbro- 
 ken felicity. The disagreement, to which I advert, would not have con- 
 tinued so long, but for the instigations of our brother William, who in- 
 sisted upon my supporting what he called my dignity, which, as he 
 said, could only be maintained by the submission of my wife. The 
 quarrel, like the quarrels of most married people, originated in a mere 
 trifle; but the question was, who should make the first conciliatory 
 advances. For two whole days we did not exchange a single word ! ! 
 William still imposingly urging me, never to surrendeftny prerogative! 
 At length, unable to endure such a state of wretchedness, I told William, 
 I w T ould not live another hour in such a situation ; he only ridiculed me 
 for my folly, and bid me take the consequence. I, however, entered 
 the chamber of my wife, and, extending my hand, most affectionately 
 said : My soul's best treasure, let us no longer continue this state of 
 mournful estrangement! for the world I would not thus live another 
 day. Why, my love, our sorrows will arise, from a thousand sources ; 
 let us not render each other miserable. The dear girl burst into tears, 
 and throwing her faithful arms around me, sobbed upon my bosom ; 
 with difficulty articulating, " O ! my'precious friend, you have, as you 
 always will have, the superiority. God for ever bless my' faithful, my 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 91 
 
 condescending husband." From this moment we bade adieu to dissen- 
 sion of every description, successfully cultivating that harmony of dispo- 
 sition, and augmenting confidence, which cannot fail of insuring domestic 
 felicity. We soon removed to a house of our own, and there, as I 
 believe, enjoyed as much of happiness, as ever fell to the lot of humanity. 
 Yet, although thus satisfied with each other, there were sources of in- 
 quietude, which created us some distress. I had heard much of Mr. 
 Relly ; he was a conscientious, and zealous preacher, in the city of 
 London. He had, through many revolving years, continued faithful to 
 the ministry committed to him, and he was the theme of every religious 
 sect. He appeared, as he was represented to me, highly erroneous ; 
 and my indignation against him, as has already been seen, was very 
 strong. I had frequently been solicited to hear him, merely that I 
 might be an ear witness of what was termed his blasphemies ; but, I 
 arrogantly said, I would not be a murderer of time. Thus I passed 
 on for a number of years, hearing all manner of evil said of Mr. Relly, 
 and believing all I heard, while every day augmented the inveterate 
 hatred, which I bore the man, and his adherents. When a worshipping 
 brother, or sister, belonging to the communion, which I considered as 
 honoured by the approbation of Deity, was, by this deceiver, drawn 
 from the paths of rectitude, the anguish of my spirit was indescribable ; 
 and I was ready to say, the secular arm ought to interpose to prevent 
 the perdition of souls. I recollect one instance in particular, which 
 pierced me to the souL A young lady, of irreproachable life, remarka- 
 ble for piety, and highly respected by the Tabernacle congregation 
 and church, of which I was a devout member, had been ensnared ; to 
 my great astonishment, she had been induced to hear, and having heard, 
 she had embraced the pernicious errors of this detestable babbler ; she 
 was become a Mliever, a firm, and unwavering believer of universal 
 redemption ! Horrible ! most horrible ! So high an opinion was enter- 
 tained of my talents, having myself been a teacher among the Methodists, 
 and such was my standing in Mr. Whitefield's church, that I was 
 deemed adequate to reclaiming this wanderer, and I was strongly 
 urged to the pursuit. The poor, deluded young woman was abund- 
 antly worthy our most arduous efforts. He, that convertelh the sinner 
 from the error of his way, shall save a soul from death, and shall hide, 
 a multitude of sins. Thus I thought, thus I said, and, swelled with a 
 high idea of my own importance, I went, accompanied by two or 
 three of my Christian brethren, to see, to converse with, and, if need 
 were, to admonish this simple, weak, Tout, a^we heretofore believed. 
 
92 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 meritorious female. Fully persuaded, that I could easily convince her 
 of her errors, I entertained no doubt respecting the result of my under- 
 taking. The young lady received us with much kindness and conde- 
 scension, while, as I glanced my eye upon her fine countenance, beam- 
 ing with intelligence, mingling pity and contempt grew in my bosom. 
 After the first ceremonies, we sat for some time silent ; at length I 
 drew up a heavy sigh, and uttered a pathetic sentiment, relative to the 
 deplorable condition of those, who live, and die in unbelief ; and I 
 concluded a violent declamation, by pronouncing, with great earnestness, 
 He, that belieVeth not, shall be damned. 
 
 " And pray, sir," said the young lady, with great sweetness, " Pray, 
 sir, what is the unbeliever damned for not believing ?" 
 
 What is he damned for not believing ? Why, he is damned for not 
 believing. 
 
 " But, my dear sir, I asked what was that, which he did not believe, 
 for which he was damned ?" 
 
 Why, for not believing in Jesus Christ, to be sure. 
 
 " Do you mean to say, that unbelievers are damned, for not believing 
 there was such a person as Jesus Christ ?" 
 
 No, I do not; a man may believe there was such a person, and yet 
 be damned. 
 
 " What then, sir, must he believe, in order to avoid damnation ?" 
 
 Why he must believe, that Jesus Christ is a complete Saviour. 
 
 " Well, suppose he were to believe, that Jesus Christ was the 
 complete Saviour of others, would this belief save him ?" 
 
 No, he must believe, that Christ Jesus is his complete Saviour ; 
 every individual must believe for himself, that Jesus Christ is his com- 
 plete Saviour. 
 
 " Why, sir, is Jesus Christ the Saviour of any unWKevers ?" 
 
 No, madam. 
 
 " Why, then, should any unbeliever believe, that Jesus Christ is his 
 Saviour, if he be not his Saviour ?" 
 
 I say, he is not the Saviour of any one, until he believes. 
 
 " Then, if Jesus be not the Saviour of the unbeliever, until he 
 believes, the unbeliever is called upon to believe a lie. It appears to 
 me, sir, that Jesus is the complete Saviour of unbelievers ; and that 
 unbelievers are called upon to believe the truth ; and that, by believing 
 they are saved, in their own apprehension, saved from all those dreadful 
 fears, which are consequent upon a state of conscious condemnation." 
 
 No, madam : you a^ dreadfully, I trust not fatally, misled. Jesus 
 never vas, nor never will be, the Saviour of any unbeliever. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 93 
 
 " Do you think Jesus is your Saviour, sir ?" 
 
 I hope he is. 
 
 " Were you always a believer, sir ?" 
 
 No, madam. 
 
 " Then you were once an unbeliever ; that is, you once believed, 
 that Jesus Christ was not your Saviour. Now, as you say, he never 
 was, nor never will be, the Saviour of any unbeliever ; as you were once 
 an unbeliever, he never can be your Saviour." 
 
 He never was my Saviour, till I believed. 
 
 " Did he never die for you, till you believed, sir ?" 
 
 Here I was extremely embarrassed, and most devoutly wished my- 
 self out of her habitation ; I sighed bitterly, expressed deep commisera- 
 tion for those deluded souls, who had nothing but head-knowledge ; 
 drew out my watch, discovered it was late ; and, recollecting an engage- 
 ment, observed it was time to take leave. 
 
 I was extremely mortified ; the young lady observed my confusion, 
 but was too generous to pursue, her triumph. I arose to depart ; the 
 company arose ; she urged us to tarry ; addressed each of us in the 
 language of kindness. Her countenance seemed to wear a resemblance 
 of the heaven, which she contemplated ; it was stamped by benignity, 
 and when we bade her adieu, she enriched us by her good wishes. 
 
 I suspected, that my religious brethren saw she had the advantage of 
 me ; and I felt, that her remarks were indeed unanswerable. My pride 
 was hurt, and I determined to ascertain the exact sentiments of my 
 associates, respecting this interview. Poor soul, said I, she is far gone 
 in error. True, said they ; but she is, notwithstanding, a very sensible 
 woman. Ay, ay, thought I, they have assuredly discovered, that she 
 has proved too mighty for me. Yes, said I, she has a great deal of 
 head knowledge ; but yet she may be a lost, damned soul. I hope not, 
 returned one of my friends ; she is a very good young woman. I saw, 
 and it was with extreme chagrin, that the result of this visit had de- 
 preciated me in the opinion of my companions. But I could only 
 censure and condemn, solemnly observing: It was better not to converse 
 with any of those apostates, and it would be judicious never to associate 
 with them upon any occasion. From this period, I myself care f Lilly 
 avoided every Universalist, and most cordially did I hate them. My 
 ear was open to the public calumniator, to the secret whisperer, and 
 I yielded credence to every scandalous report, however improbable. 
 My informers were good people ; I had no doubt of their veracity ; and 
 I believed it would be difficult to painj Kelly, and his connexk 
 
 N 
 
'Jl LIFE OF UEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 colours too black. How severely has the law of rclaludion been since 
 exercised in the stabs, which have been aimed at my own reputation ! 
 Relly was described, as a man black with crimes ; an atrocious offender, 
 both in principle, and practice. He had, it was said, abused and 
 deserted an amiable wife ; and, it was added, that he retained in his 
 house an abandoned woman ; and that he not only thus conducted 
 himself, but, publicly, and most nefariously, taught his hearers to dare 
 the laws of their country, and their God. Hence, said my informers, 
 the dissipated and unprincipled, of every class, flock to his church ; hi^ 
 congregation is astonishingly large, the carriages of the great block up 
 the street, in which his meeting-house stands, and he is the idol of the 
 voluptuous of every description. All this, and much more was said, 
 industriously propagated, and credited in every religious circle. 
 Denominations, at variance w'ith each other, most cordially agreed 
 in thus thinking, and thus speaking of Relly, of his principles, of his 
 preaching, and of his practice. I confess I felt a strong inclination to see, 
 and hear this monster, once at least ; but the risk was dreadful ! I couJd 
 not gather courage to hazard the steadfastness of my faith ; and for 
 many years T persevered in my resolution, on no consideration to 
 contaminate my ear by the sound of his voice. At length, however, 
 I was prevailed upon to enter his church ; but I detested the sight of 
 him ; and my mind, prejudiced by the reports, to which I had listened 
 respecting him, was too completely filled with a recollection of his 
 fancied atrocities, to permit a candid attention to his subject, or his 
 mode of investigation. I wondered much at his impudence, in daring 
 to speak in the name of God ; and I felt assured, that he was treasur- 
 ing up unto himself wrath against the day of wrath. I looked upon 
 his deluded audience with alternate pity and contempt, and I thanked 
 God, that 1 was not one of them. I rejoiced, when I escaped from the 
 house, and, as I passed home, I exclaimed, almost audibly : Why, O 
 my God, was I not left in this deplorable, damnable state ? given up, 
 like this poor, unfortunate people, to believe a lie, to the utter perversion 
 of my soul ? But I was thus furnished with another proof of my 
 Election, in consequence of my not being deceived by this detestable 
 deceiver ; and, of course, my consolation was great. 
 
 About this time, there was a religious society established in Cannon- 
 street, in an independent meeting-house, for the purpose t>f elucidating 
 difficult passages of scripture. This society chose for their president a 
 Mr. Mason, who, although not a clerical gentleman, was, nevertheless, 
 of high standing in the religious w r orld : frequent applications were 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 / a 
 
 made to him, in the character of a physician to the sinking, sorrowing, 
 sin-sick soul. His figure was commanding, and well calculated to fill 
 the minds of young converts with religious a\ve. When this company 
 of serious inquirers were assembled, the president addressed the throne 
 of grace, in a solemn, and appropriate prayer, and the subject for the 
 evening was next proposed. Every member of die society was indulged 
 with the privilege of expressing his sentiments, for the space of five mi- 
 nutes ; a glass was upon the table, which ran accurately the given term. 
 The president held in his hand a small ivory hammer : when the 
 speaker's time had expired, he had a right to give him notice by a stroke 
 on the table, round which the assembled members were seated. But, if 
 he approved of what was delivered, it was optional with him to extend 
 the limits of his term. When the question had gone round the table, 
 the president summed up the evidences, gave his own judgment, and, 
 having proposed the question for the next evening,concluded with prayer. 
 Upon this society I was a constant attendant, and I was frequently 
 gratified by the indulgence of the president and the implied approbation 
 of the society. It was on the close of one of those evenings, which were 
 to me very precious opportunities, that the president took me by the 
 hand, and requested me to accompany him into the vestry. " Sit down, 
 my good sir : you cannot but have seen, that I have long distinguished 
 you in this society ; that I have been pleased with your observations : 
 and I have given indisputable evidence, that both my reason, and my 
 judgment, approved your remarks." I bowed respectfully, and endea- 
 voured to express my gratitude, in a manner becoming an occasion so 
 truly flattering. 
 
 " My object," said he, " in seeking to engage you in private, is to re- 
 quest you would take home with you a pamphlet I have written against, 
 Kelly's Union. J have long wondered, that some able servant of our 
 Master has not taken up this subject. But, as my superiors are silent, I 
 have been urged by a sense of duty to make a stand, and I have done 
 all in my power to prevent the pernicious tendency of this soul-destroy- 
 ing book." 
 
 Although, at this period, I had never seen Kelly's Union, yet my 
 heart rejoiced, that Mason, this great and good man, had undertaken to 
 write against it, and, from the abundance of my heart, my mouth over- 
 flowed with thankfulness. 
 
 " All that I request of you," said Mr. Mason, " is to take this man- 
 uscript home with you, and keep it till our next meeting. Meet me ij- 
 this vestry, a little before the usual timfc Read it, I entreat you, car^ 
 
1,I?E OF REV. JOHN HURRAY. 
 
 , and favour me with your unbiassed sentiments." I was elated by 
 the honour done me, and I evinced much astonishment at the confidence 
 reposed in me. But he was pleased to express a high opinion of my 
 judgment, abilities, arid goodness of heart, and he begged leave to avail 
 himself of those qualities, with which his fancy had invested me. 
 
 T took the manuscript home, perused it carefully, and with much 
 pleasure, until I came to a passage at which I was constrained to pause, 
 painfully to pause. Mr. Relly had said, speaking of the record, which 
 God gave of his Son : This life is in his Son, and he, that believeth not 
 this record, maketh God a liar ; from whence, inferred Mr. Rellv, it is 
 plain, that God hath given this eternal life in the So/i to unbelievers, as 
 fully as to believers, else the unbeliever could not, by his unbtlirf, make 
 God a liar. This, said Mr. Mason, punning upon the author s name, 
 is just as clear, as that this writer is an Irish Bishop. T was grieved to 
 observe, that Mr. Mason could say no more upon a subject so momen- 
 tous ; nor could I forbear allowing more, than I wished to allow, to 
 the reasoning of Mr. Relly. Most devoutly did I lament, that the ad- 
 vantage in argument did not rest with my admired friend, Mason ; and 
 I was especially desirous, that this last argument should have been 
 completely confuted. I was positive, that God never gave eternal life 
 to any unbeliever ; and yet I was perplexed to decide how, if God hud 
 not given life to unbelievers, they could possibly make God a liar, by 
 believing that he had not. My mind was incessantly exercised, ar.d 
 greatly embarrassed upon this question. What is it to make any one 
 a liar, but to deny the truth of what he has said ? But, if God had 
 no where said, he had given life to unbelievers, how could the unbe- 
 liever make God a liar ? The stronger this argument seemed in fa- 
 vour of the grace and love of God, the more distressed and unhappy 
 I became ; and most earnestly did I wish, that Mr. Mason's pamphlet 
 might contain something, that was more rational, more scriptural, than 
 a mere pun ; that he might be able to adduce proof positive, that the* 
 gift of God, which is everlasting life, was never given to any, but be- 
 lievers. I was indisputably assured, that I myself was a believer ; and 
 right precious did I hold my exclusive property in the Son of God. 
 
 At the appointed time, I met Mr. Mason in the vestry. " Well, 
 sir, I presume you have read my manuscript ?" I have, sir, and I 
 have read it repeatedly. " Well, sir, speak freely, is there any thing 
 in the manuscript which you dislike ?" Why, sir, as you are so good 
 as to indulge me with the liberty of speaking, I will venture to point 
 out one passage, which appears to me not sufficiently clear. Pardon 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 me, sir, but surely argument, especially upon religious subjects, is pre- 
 ferable to ridicule, to punning upon Ike name of an. author. " And 
 where, pray, is the objectionable paragraph, to which you advert ?" 
 I pointed it out ; but, on looking in his face, I observed his countenance 
 fallen, it was no longer toward me. Mr. Mason questioned my judg- 
 ment, and never afterward honoured me by his attention. However, I 
 still believed Mason right, and Rellij wrong ; for if Relly were right, 
 the conclusion was unavoidable, all men must finally be saved. But 
 this was out of the question, utterly impossible ; all religious denomi- 
 nations agreed to condemn this heresy, to consider it as a damnable 
 doctrine, and what every religious denomination united to condemn, 
 must be false. 
 
 Thus, although I lost the favour of Mr. Mason, and he published his 
 pamphlet precisely as it stood, when submitted to my perusal, yet my 
 reverential regard for him was not diminished. I wished, most cordial- 
 ly wished success to his book, and destruction to the author, against 
 whom it was written. 
 
 In this manner, some months rolled over my head, when, accompa- 
 nying my wife on a visit to her aunt, after the usual ceremonies, I re- 
 paired, according to custom, to the book-case, and turning over many 
 books and pamphlets, I at length opened one, that had been robbed of 
 its title-page : but in running it over, I came to the very argument, which 
 had excited so much anxiety in my bosom. It was the first moment I 
 had ever seen a line of Mr. Kelly's writing, except in Mr. Mason's 
 pamphlet. I was much astonished, and turning to Mrs. Murray, I in- 
 formed her, I held Mr. Kelly's Union in my hand. I asked our uncle, 
 if I might put it in my pocket ? " Surely," said he, " and keep it 
 there, if you please, I never read books of divinity ; I know not what 
 the pamphlet is, nor do I wish to know." As I put it into my pocket, 
 my mind became alarmed, and perturbed. It was dangerous, it was 
 tampering with poison, it was like taking fire into my bosom ; I had 
 better throw it into the flames, or restore it to the book-case ; such was 
 the conflict in my bosom. However, in* the full assurance, that the 
 Elect were safe ; and that, although they took up any deadly thing, it 
 should not hurt them, I decided to read the Union ; and having thus 
 made up my mind, I experienced a degree of impatience, until I reach- 
 ed home, when addressing the dear companion of my youth, I said : I 
 have, my dear, judged, and condemned, before I have heard ; but I 
 have now an opportunity given me for deliberate investigation. " But," 
 urray, "are w> sufficient of ourselves ?" No, my 
 
S8 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 love, certainly we are not ; but God, all gracious, hath said, If any lack 
 wisdom, let them ask of God, who giveth liberally, and tipbraideth not. 
 My heart is exercised by fearful apprehensions ; this moment I dread to 
 read, the next I am anxious to hear what the author can say. We 
 will, therefore, lay this book before our God. There is, my love, a 
 God, who is not far from every one of us ; we are directed to make 
 our requests known unto Him for all things, by supplication and prayer. 
 God hath never yet said to any, Seek ye my face, in vain ; we will 
 then pray for his direction and counsel ; and we may rest in the assur- 
 ance of obtaining both. Accordingly, we entered our closet, and both 
 of us, for we were both eqmilly interested, prostrated ourselves i 
 God, with prayers and tears, beseeching Him, the God of mercy, to loofc 
 with pity on us : we were on the point of attending to doctrines of 
 which we were not, we could not be judges, and we earnestly suppli- 
 cated Him to lead us into all truth. If the volume before us contained 
 truth, we entreated him to show it to us, and to increase our faith ; if, 
 on the other hand, it contained falsehood, we beseeched God to make 
 it manifest, that we might not be deceived. No poor criminal ever 
 prayed for life, when under sentence of death, with greater fervour of 
 devotion, than did my labouring soul upon this occasion supplicate for 
 the light, of life to direct my erring steps. After thus weeping, and thus 
 supplicating, we opened the bible, and began to read this book, looking 
 into the bible for the passages, to which the writer referred. We w?re 
 astonished and delighted at the btiauty of the scriptures, thus exhibited , 
 it seemed, as if every sentence was an apple of gold in a picture of sil- 
 ver ; and still, as we proceeded, the wonder was, that so much divine 
 truth should be spoken by so heinous a transgressor : and this consider- 
 ation seemed suggested, as a reason why I should not continue reading. 
 Can any thing good proceed from such a character ? Would not truth 
 have been revealed to men, eminent for virtue ? How is it possible, dis- 
 coveries, so important, should never, until now, have been made, and 
 now only by this man ? Yet, I considered, God's ways were in the great 
 deep ; he would send, by whom he would send ; choosing the weak and 
 base things to confound the mighty and the strong, that no flesh should 
 glory in his presence. And, as my lovely wife justly observed, I was 
 not sure, all, I heard of Mr. Relly, was true ; that our Saviour had 
 said to his disciples, They shall say all manner of evil of you falsely ; and 
 the present instance may be a case in point. " You have no personal 
 acquaintance with Mr. Relly," said she : " nor do you know, that anv 
 of those, from whom you have received his character, are better inform- 
 
UFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 99 
 
 ed than yourself. I think it doth not become us to speak or believe evil 
 of any man, without the strongest possible proof" All this was ration- 
 al, I felt its full force, and blushed for my own credulity. I proceeded 
 to read. The Union introduced me to many passages of scripture, 
 which had before escaped my observation. A student, as I had been of 
 the scriptures, from the first dawn of my reason, I could not but won- 
 der at myself ; I turned to Mr. Mason's book, and I discovered a want 
 of candour, and a kind of duplicity, which had not before met my view, 
 and which perhaps would never have caught my attention, had I not 
 read the Union. I saw the grand object untouched, while Relly had 
 clearly pointed out the doctrines of the gospel. Yet there were many 
 passages, that I could not understand, and I felt myself distressingly 
 embarrassed. One moment I wished from my soul, I had never seen 
 the Union ; and the next my heart was enlarged, and lifted up by consid- 
 erations, which swelled my bosom to ecstacy. This was the situation of 
 my mind, during many succeeding months, and a large proportion of 
 my time was passed in reading, and studying the scriptures, and in 
 prayer : My understanding was pressing on to new attainments, and 
 the prospect brightened before me. I was greatly attached to my min- 
 ister, Mr. Hitchins ; he was eminent in his line, and a most pleasing 
 preacher. Mrs, Murray was in the habit of taking down his sermons 
 in short hand. We were delighted with the man, and accustomed to 
 consider him a genuine gospel preacher. It happened, that Mr. Hitch- 
 ins took a journey into the country, and was absent on the sabbath 
 day. Come, my dear, said I, our minister is out of town, let us avail 
 ourselves of the opportunity, and hear the writer of the Union ; this is 
 a privilege, which few, who read books, can have ; as authors are gener- 
 ally numbered with the dead, before their labours are submitted to the 
 public eye." Her consent was always yielded to my solicitations ; but 
 we were terrified, as we passed along, in the fear of meeting some of our 
 religious brethren ; happily, however, we reached the meeting-house, 
 without encountering any one, to whom we were known. 
 
 Mr. Relly had changed his place of worship, and we were astonished 
 .to observe a striking proof of the falsehood of those reports, which had 
 reached us ; no coaches thronged the street, nor surrounded the door 
 of this meeting-house ; there was no vestige of grandeur, either within 
 or without. The house had formerly been occupied by Quakers : 
 there were no seats, save a few benches ; and the pulpit was framed of a. 
 few rough boards, over which no plane had ever passed. The audi- 
 ence corresponded with the house, they did not appear very rt;li<iioiis : 
 
HOO UFE OF REV. JOJIN MURRAY. 
 
 that is, they were not melancholy ; and I therefore suspected they had 
 not much piety. I attended to every thing ; the hymn was good, the 
 prayer excellent, and I was astonished to witness, in so bad a man, so 
 much apparent devotion ; for still, I must confess, the prejudices, I had 
 received from my religious friends, were prevalent in my mind. Mr. 
 Relly gave out his text. " Either make the tree good, and its fruit 
 good, or the tree corrupt, and its fruit cornipt ; for every tree is known 
 by its fruit ; a good tree cannot bring forth corrupt fruit, neither can 
 a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." I was immeasurably surprised. 
 What, thought I, has this man to do with a passage, so calculated to 
 condemn himself ? But, as he proceeded, every faculty of my soul 
 was powerfully seized and captivated, and I was perfectly amazed, 
 while he explained who we were to understand by the good, and who 
 by the bad trees. He proved, beyond contradiction, that a good tree 
 could not bring forth any con-upt fruit, but there was no man, who 
 lived and sinned not ; all mankind had corrupted themselves, there 
 were none therefore good ; no, not one. 
 
 No mere man, since the fall, has been able to keep the Command- 
 ments of God ; but daily doth break them, in thought, in word, and in 
 deed. There was, however, one good tree, JESUS ; He indeed stands, 
 as the apple-tree, among the trees of the wood ; He is that good tree, 
 which cannot bring forth corrupt fruit ; under His shadow the believ- 
 er reposeth ; the fruit of this tree is sweet to his taste ; and the matter of 
 his theme constantly is, " Whom have I in heaven, but thee, and there, 
 is none upon earth, that I desire, beside thee." I was constrained to 
 believe, that I had never,until this moment, heard the Redeemer preach- 
 ed; and, as I said, I attended with my whole soul. I was humbled, I 
 was confounded ; I san clearly, that I had been all my life expecting 
 good fruit from corrupt trees, grapes on thorns, and figs on thistles. I 
 suspected myself; I had lost my standing ; I was unsettled, perturbed, 
 and wretched. A few individuals, whom I had known at Mr. White- 
 field's tabernacle, were among Mr. Kelly's audience, and I heard thorn 
 say, as they passed out of the aisle of the church, I wonder how the Phar- 
 isees would like our preacher ? I wished to hear Mrs. Murray speak 
 upon the subject ; but we passed on, wrapped in contemplation. At. 
 length I broke silence : Well, my dear, what are your sentiments '{ 
 " Nay, my dear, what is your opinion ?" I never heard truth, unadul- 
 terated truth, before ; so sure as there is a God in heaven, if the scrip- 
 tures be the word of God, the testimony, this day delivered, is tho truth 
 of God. It is the first consistent sermon I have ever heard. I reach- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 10F 
 
 ed home full of this sermon ; took up the Union, read it with new pleas- 
 are ; attended again and again, upon Mr. Relly, and was more and more 
 astonished. Mr. Hitchins returned home, but, as I conceived, very 
 much changed, more inconsistent than ever. " No, my dear," said 
 my wife, " it is you, who are changed ; he preaches, as I can prove by 
 my notes, precisely the same, yet it is truly surprising, that his multipli- 
 ed contradictions have, until now, passed without our observation." 
 Well, said I, what are we to do ? Can we, in future, bear such incon- 
 sistencies, now that we are better informed ? Suppose we keep our 
 seats as usual ; attending, however, one half of every Sabbath, to the 
 preacher of Christ Jusus ? On this we immediately determined, and, 
 by this expedient, we imagined we might be gratified by hearing the 
 truth, without running the risk of losing our reputation ; for we well 
 knew, that, as professed adherents of Mr. Relly, we could no longer 
 preserve that spotless fame we delighted to cherish. 
 
 I now commenced the reading of the Scriptures, with augmented 
 diligence. The Bible was indeed a new book to me ; the veil was taken 
 Uotn my heart, and the word of my God became right precious to my 
 soul. Many scriptures, that I had not before known, forcibly pressed 
 upon my observation ; and many, that, until now, I had not suffered 
 myself to believe. Still the doctrine of election distressed me ; unfor- 
 tunately, I had connected this doctrine of election with the doctrine of 
 final reprobation : not considering, that, although the first was indubita- 
 bly a scripture doctrine, the last was not to be found in, nor could be 
 supported by revelation. I determined to call upon, and converse 
 with Mr. Hitchins, on this important subject. I found him in his stu- 
 dy, encompassed about with the writings of great men. I wait upon 
 you, sir, for the purpose of obtaining help. The Arminians show me 
 many scriptures, which proclaim the universality of the Atonement. I 
 cannot answer them. What, my dear sir, shall I do ? " Why, sir, 
 the doctrines of election, and reprobation, are doctrines we are bound 
 to believe, as articles of oar faith ; but 1 can say, with the Rev. Mr. 
 Hervey, I never wish to think of them, except upon my knees. I 
 never heard any one undertake to explain them, who did not still fur- 
 ther embarrass the subject. One observation is, however, conclusive, 
 and it never fails effectually to silence the Arminian : That if, as they 
 affirm, Christ Jesus died for all men, then assuredly all men must he 
 saved ; for no one cait be eternally lost, for whom the Redeemer shed /j./.s 
 precious blood ; such an event is impossible. Now, as the Arminians 
 will not admit a possibility, that all will finally be saved, they are thus 
 
'LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 easily confounded." This, I thought, was very good ; it was clear, as 
 any testimony in divine revelation, that Christ Jesus died for all, for 
 the sins of the whole world, for every man, &c. &c. ; and even Mr. 
 Hitchins had declared, that every one, for whom Christ died, must final- 
 ly be saved. This I took home with me to ray wife : she saw the 
 truth, that we were so well prepared to embrace, manifested even by 
 the testimony of its enemies, and we were inexpressibly anxious to 
 hear, and to understand. We now attended public worship, not only 
 as a duty, conceiving that we thus increased a fund of righteousness, 
 upon which we were to draw in every exigence, but it became our 
 pleasure, our consolation, and our highest enjoyment. We began to 
 feed upon the truth as it is in Jesus, and. every discovery we made fil- 
 led us with unutterable transport. I regarded my friends with increas- 
 ing affection, and I conceived, if I had an opportunity of conversing 
 with the whole world, the whole world would be convinced. It might 
 truly have been said, that we had a taste of heaven below. 
 
 It was soon whispered in the Tabernacle, that I had frequently been 
 seen going to, and coming from Kelly's meeting ! This alarmed ma- 
 ny, and one very dear friend conversed with me in private upon the 
 subject, heard what, from the abundance of my heart, my mouth was 
 constrained to utter, smiled, pitied me, and begged I would not be too 
 communicative, lest the business should be brought before the society, 
 and excommunication might follow. I thanked him for his caution ; 
 but, as I had conversed only with him, I had hazarded nothing. In a 
 short time I was cited to appear before the society, worshipping in Mr. 
 Whitefield's tabernacle ; I obeyed the summons, and found myself 
 in the midst of a very gloomy company, all seemingly in great distress ; 
 they sighed very bitterly, and at last gave me to understand, that they 
 had heard, I had become an attendant upon that monster, Kelly, and 
 they wished to know if their information was correct. I requested I 
 might be told, from whom they had their intelligence ? and they were 
 evidently embarrassed by my question. Stili, however, I insisted 
 upon being confronted with my accuser, and they at length consented 
 to summon him; but 1 was nearly petrified, when I learned it was the 
 identical friend, who had privately conversed with me, and who had 
 privately cautioned me, that had lodged the information against me ! 
 Upon this friend I had called, in my way to the tabernacle, confiding to 
 him my situation ; he said, he had feared the event ; he pitied me, and 
 prayed with me. But he did not calculate upon being confronted with 
 Hie, and his confusion wu.s too great to anifer his attendance. It was 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 103 
 
 then referred to me : " Was it a fact, had I attended upon Relly ?" 
 I had. " Did I believe what I heard ?" I answered, that I did and 
 my trial commenced. They could not prove, I had violated those ar- 
 ticles, to which I had subscribed. I had, in no point of view, infrin- 
 ged the contract, by which I was bound. J3ut they apprehended, if I 
 continued to approbate Relly, by my^ccasional attendance on his 
 ministry, my example would become contagious ; except, therefore, I 
 would give them my word, that I would wholly abandon this perni- 
 cious practicf , they must, however unwillingly, pronounce upon me 
 the sentence of excommunication. I refused to bind myself by any 
 promise ; I assured them, I would continue to hear, and to judge for 
 myself: and that I held it my duty, to receive the truth of God wherev- 
 er it might be manifested. " But Relly holds the truth in unright- 
 eousness." Iftiave nothing to do with his unrighteousness ; my own 
 conduct is not more reprehensible, than heretofore. They granted this ; 
 but the force of example was frequently irresistible, and, if I were per- 
 mitted to follow, iincensured, my own inclination, others might claim 
 the same indulgence, to the utter perversion of their souls. It was 
 then conceded in my favour, that, if I would confine my sentiments to 
 my own bosom, they would continue me a member of their commun- 
 ion. I refused to accede to this proposal. I would not be under an 
 obligation to remain silent. I must, so often as opportunity might 
 present, consider myself as called upon to advocate truth. The ques- 
 tion was then put Should I he considered a member of the society 
 upon my own terms ? And it was lost by only three voices. 
 
 It was past one in the morning, when I retiimed home to my poor, 
 disconsolate wife, who was waiting for me ; and when I entered her 
 apartment, my spirits were so sunk, that, throwing myself into a chair, 
 I burst into tears. But the sweet soother of my every woe, hastened to 
 communicate that consolation, she was so eminently qualified to 
 bestow. " Now," said she, " for the first time, you know what it is 
 to suffer for Christ's sake ; and you must arm yourself with fortitude to 
 bear, what the adherents of Mr. Relly must always bear. Let us offer 
 up praise and thanksgiving, that it is no w r orse. Fear not those, who can 
 only kill the body ; these, however, have not power to kill the body ; it is 
 true, they can do more ; they can murder our good name, which is 
 rather to be chosen than life itself. But let us not fear ; our God will 
 be with us, He will preserve, and protect us." Our hearts, however, 
 were very full, and with great devotion we wept and prayed together. 
 About this time, the grandfather . of my Eliza sent ior her to visit 
 him, at his country seat, ten miles from London ; this was highly 
 
104 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 gratifying, and abundantly more so, as I also was included in the invi- 
 tation. After seeing, and conversing with me, he sincerely lamented, 
 that he had been so far duped by the artful, and designing, as to put 
 the disposition of the greater part of his property at his decease entirely 
 out of his own power; but what he could do, he most cheerfully did, 
 Yet even here we were pursued by disappointment. He requested me 
 to procure him a capable, sober domestic j and I engaged a woman, 
 who, as I believed, answered his description ; but, proving an artful 
 hussey, she gradually' obtained, over the mind of the old gentleman, an 
 astonishing influence, that resulted in a marriage, which effectually 
 prevented his family connexions from ever again visiting him ! Thus 
 were our new-born expectations, from a reconciled parent, levelled with 
 the dust. A series of calamities succeeded ; those, whom I had es- 
 teemed my best, and dearest friends, proved my most inveterate foes, 
 and, finding it impossible to reclaim us, from what they conceived paths 
 of error, persecuted us with unceasing virulence. Presents, bestowed 
 in the days of confidence, as tokens of affection, were claimed as legal 
 debts ; and as the law does not allow presents, I was arrested for the 
 amount, betrayed, by my religious friends, into the hands of bailiffs, at 
 a time when, had the promised lenity been exercised, I could have 
 paid to the utmost farthing. Thus heaven thought proper to keep us 
 low ; but our faith increased, and we cherished that hope, which mak- 
 eth not ashamed; and, even while struggling with difficulties, we enjoy- 
 ed a heaven upon earth. Gradually I surmounted the greater part of 
 my difficulties. At the house of our brother William, I had an inter- 
 view with our once obdurate younger brother ; he seemed penetrated 
 with sorrow for our long-continued estrangement ; he hung upon my 
 neck, wept bitterly, and expressed a fear, that I could never forgive him, 
 I also shed many tears, and extending to him the hand of amity, clasped 
 him to my bosom, with a most cordial embrace. This was a most 
 pleasant circumstance to my beloved Eliza ; all now seemed delightful. 
 We had a. sweet little retirement in a rural part of the city ; we wanted 
 but little, and our wants were all supplied ; and perhaps we enjoyed as 
 much, as human nature can enjoy. One clear pledge of love, a son, 
 whom my wife regarded as the image of his father, completed our fe- 
 licity. But, alas ! this boy was lent us no more than one short year ! 
 He expired in the arms of his agonized mother, whose health, from 
 that fatal moment, began rapidly to decline. I was beyond expression 
 terrified. Physicians recommended the country; but my business con- 
 fined me in London, and my circumstances wcuild not admit of my 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY 
 
 renting two houses. I took lodgings at a small distance from town, 
 returning my self every day to London. The disorder advanced with 
 terrific strides ; my soul was tortured ; every time I approached her 
 hamber, even the sigh, which proclaimed she still lived, administered a 
 melancholy relief. This was indeed a time of sorrow and distress, be- 
 yond what I had ever before known ; I have been astonished how I ex- 
 isted through such scenes. Surely, in every time of trouble, God is a 
 very present help. I was obliged to remove the dear creature, during 
 ter reduced situation, the house in which I had taken lodgings being 
 sold ; but I obtained for her a situation aboitt four miles from town. 
 The scenes around her new lodgings were charming; she seemed 
 pleased, and I was delighted. For a few days we believed her bet- 
 ter, and again I experienced all the rapture of hope. My difficulties, 
 however, were many ; I was necessitated to pass my days in London ; 
 eould I have continued with her, it would have been some relief. 
 But as my physician gave me no hope, when I parted from her 
 in the morning, I was frequently terrified in the dread of meet- 
 ing death on my return. Often, for my sake, did the sweet , 
 angel struggle to appear relieved, but, alas ! I could discern it was 
 a struggle, and my anguish became still more poignant. To add 
 to my distresses, poverty came in like a fiood. I had my house in 
 town, a servant there ; the doctor, the apothecary, the nurse, the lodg- 
 ings in the country ; every thing to provide ; daily passing, and repassing. 
 Truly my heart was very sore. I was friendless. My religious 
 friends had, on my hearing and advocating the doctrines, preached by 
 all God's holy prophets ever since the world began, become my most 
 inveterate foes. Our grandfather was under the dominion of the wo- 
 man I had introduced to him, who had barred his doors against us ; the 
 heart of our younger brother was again closed, and, as if angry with 
 himself for the concessions ha had made, was more than ever estranged ; 
 and even our elder brother, who in every situation had for a long sea- 
 son evinced himself my faithful friend, had forsaken us ! I had, most ' 
 indiscreetly, ventured to point out some errors in the domestic ar- ; 
 rangements of his wife, which I believed would eventuate in hi-; ruin, \ 
 and he so far resented this freedom, as to abandon all intercourse with / 
 me. Among Mr. Kelly's acquaintance I had no intimates, indeed 
 hardly an acquaintance ; I had suffered s6 much from religious con- 
 nexions, that I had determined, as much as possible, to stand aloof, 
 during the residue of my journey through life. Thus was I circum- 
 stanced, when the fell destroyer of my peace aimed his most deadly 
 shafts at the bosom of a being, far dearer to me than my existence. 
 
106 LIKE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 My credit failing, my wants multiplying, blessed be God, my Eliza 
 was ignorant of the extent of my sufferings ; she would have surren- 
 dered up her life, even if she had feared death, rather than have per- 
 mitted an application to either of her brothers ; yet was I, by the ex- 
 tremity of my distress, precipitated upon a step so humiliating. Stop- 
 ping at a coffee-house near our brother William's, I penned a hur- 
 ried line, requesting he would give me an immediate meeting ; and 
 sending it by a porter, I waited, in agony indescribable, its effect. Al- 
 most instantaneously he entered the coffee-house, and, without utter- 
 ing a word, took a seat ; nor was I for some moments able to articulate. 
 My soul was tortured ; he saw it, and could not avoid, feeling. At 
 length he questioned, " Pray what is the matter ?" Your sister is 
 very near her end, and, were we both so, it would be to me cause of 
 exultation, and you would have been spared this trouble. My appli- 
 cation to you will be a sufficient explanation of my circumstances; and 
 should you think proper to call upon a once dear, now dying sister, 
 I have to request, you would not notice my having sought this inter- 
 view, it would embitter the last moments of her life. He was amaz- 
 ingly shocked, yet, as this was the first syllable he had heard of her 
 indisposition, he flattered himself my fears had magnified the danger ; 
 but he assured me, he would see her without delay. I however de- 
 sired, he would grant me time to prepare her for his visit ; it must, said 
 I, appear entirely accidental, and I hastened to our lodgings. I met 
 your brother William, my love, who, having heard you are indisposed, 
 kindly inquired after you ; I think he means to visit you. '* If, my 
 precious friend, you have not descended so low, as to ask any favour 
 f him, I shall be glad to see him." I will not, my love, do any thing, 
 which I ought not to do. I sat down by her bedside. That face, 
 upon which strangers had gazed enraptured, was now the seat of death's 
 wan harbinger, and her struggles to conceal her sufferings were but too 
 risible. Quitting the room, I inquired of the nurse, how she had been 
 during my absence ? She told me, she had endured much pain, was 
 very anxious for my return, and expressed a fear, that she should never 
 again behold me. I was summoned by the mistress of the house, who 
 was so charmed by the deportment of my Eliza, and had conceived so 
 great an affection for her, as to find it difficult to quit her apartment. 
 But my suffering friend, taking my hand, and drawing me near her, 
 whispered a wish, that we might be alone ; I gave the good lady a 
 hint, who instantly withdrew. I kneeled by her bedside : she drew 
 me Hoser to her. and throwing her feeble, her emaciated arms around 
 
OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 107 
 
 iny neck, she gave me an ardent embrace ; I was unutterably affected. 
 M Be composed, my dear," said she, " and let these precious moments 
 be as calm as possible ; we may not be allowed another opportunity. 
 Dear faithful friend, in life, in death, dearer to me than my own soul, 
 God reward you for all the kind care you have taken of me. O ! may 
 my heavenly Father provide some one to supply my place, who may 
 reciprocate the kindness you have shown me. Pray be composed ; re- 
 member we are not at home ; that we shall shortly meet in our Fa- 
 ther's house'^ here she paused and again resuming " Our part- 
 ing, when compared with eternity, will be but for a moment. What 
 though we have not continued together so long as we fondly expected, 
 yet, my love, we have had an age of happiness. It is you, my precioui 
 husband, who are the object of pity. God all gracious console, and 
 support you. Be of good cheer, my love, we shall meet in the king- 
 dom of the Redeemer indeed, indeed we shall." Again she threw 
 her dying arms around me ; her soul seemed struggling with the mag- 
 nitude of her emotions. For me, I could not have articulated a sylla- 
 ble for the world. It is astonishing I did not expire ; but there is a 
 time to die. Again, like the wasting taper, she seemed to revive. 
 Again, with uncommon energy, she pronounced, upon her almost fren- 
 zied husband, the most solemn benediction ; this brought on a cough, 
 she pointed to a phial upon her dressing table. I gave her a few drops. 
 " There, my best friend, I am better Be composed my faithful, my 
 suffering guide, protector, husband. Oh 1 trust in the Lord : let us, 
 my love,- stay upon the God of our salvation ; He will never leave us ; 
 He will never forsake us" Then, grasping my hand, she continued : 
 " These moments, my dear, are very precious ; we have had many pre- 
 cious moments ; you will not go out again, I shall not again lose sight of 
 you. You will abide with me,so long as I shall continue" I could con tain 
 no longer: My suppressed agony became audible : she drew me to her : 
 *' Do not distress me, my love" She w r as deeply affected ; her cough 
 came on with additional violence. The sound of my voice brought in the 
 land lady of the house; she believed the angel had escaped. I requested 
 her, to reach the phial. The expiring saint motioned it away ; " It is ton 
 late, my love," she would have added ; but utterance instantly failed 
 her, and, without a single struggle, she breathed her last, still holding 
 my hand fast in hers. I was on my knees by her bedside ; I saw sho 
 was breathless, but she still held my hand. Ten thousand worlds, had 
 1 possessed them, I would have given for permission to lave accom- 
 panied, her beatified spirit. I am astonished that I retained jyir reason. 
 
10S LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Only a few weeks, a few tremendous weeks, since the commencemeni 
 of her illness, had rolled on, when, kneeling in speecnici-s agony by her 
 bedside, I saw her breathe her last; she expired without a sigh, without 
 a pang, and I was lelt to the extreme of wretchedness. A few mo- 
 ments gave me to reflection I contemplated her form, beaut. i'ul even in 
 death ; she was now no more a sufferer either in body or mind, and, for 
 a little while, I derived malignant satisfaction, from the con^ aeration of 
 what her brothers would endure, when they found, 'that, in this world, 
 they should no more behold her. 1 was shocked at myself; it scvined 
 as if the sainted spirit mildly reproved me ; 1 clasped my haud> in ago- 
 ny ; I supplicated pardon of the deceased, and of her God. It ap- 
 peared to me, I had been deficient in affection, and the idea spoke dag- 
 gers to my soul. Memory cruelly summoned before me many instan- 
 ces, in which she might have been obliged, but distraction was in this 
 thought. I sat in speechless agony by her bedside ; having locked the 
 door, no one could obtain entrance. Almighty God, how unutt rable 
 were the sorrows of my soul 1 ! ! 
 
 I was aroused from this state, by the arrival c ~ our brother William. 
 He obtained entrance ; he glanced upon the bed gaz d for a moment 
 averted his eyes trembled, and became pale as the face of my lamen- 
 ted saint and at length, in silent agony, quitted the apartment. The 
 good lady of the house now made her appearance, and in a tone of sym- 
 pathy supplicated me to retire. The necessary offices were performed, 
 and all that remained of my wedded friend was prepared for the under- 
 taker, who came by the order of her opulent brother : that brother, who 
 had nefariously robbed her of her right of inheritance, who contributed 
 so largely, while she lived, to her sufferings, and who now endured an- 
 guish more than equivalent, for all the riches of the world. A hearse 
 and mourning coaches attended, and the dear remains, followed by her 
 brothers and their families, were entombed in the family vault. The 
 coachman was directed to convey me, after the interment, to the house 
 of our younger brother. He was again a prey to contrition and to sor- 
 row, and he urged me to cherish hope. I assured him, I had nothing 
 to do with hope, at least in this world. He made great professions of 
 affection, and liberal promises of future kindness ; but it was too late ; 
 and though I believe he was at the time sincere, yet, when his strong 
 feelings subsided, he was himself again. 
 
 Here I close another period of my eventful life ! What a sad reverse ! 
 A fe'.v short weeks since, I was in the mose enviable circumstances ; 
 my situation was charming, my dwelling neat and commodious, my wife. 
 
LIFE GF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 109 
 
 the object of my soul's devout and sincere affection, her lovely offspring 
 swelling the rapture of the scene, a male and female domestic attached 
 to our persons, and faithful to our interest ; and the pleasing hope, that 
 I should enjoy a long succession of these delights. Now I was alone in 
 the world ; no wife, no child, no domestics, no home ; nothing but the 
 ghosts of my departed joys. In religion, and religion only, the last re- 
 sort of the wretched, I found the semblance of repose ; religion taught 
 me to contemplate the state, to which I was hastening ; my dreams pre- 
 sented my departed Eliza ; I saw her in a variety of views, but in every 
 view celestial : sometimes she was still living, but in haste to be gone : 
 sometimes she descended upon my imagination, an heavenly visitant, 
 commissioned to conduct me home ; and so much of felicity did I derive 
 from those dreams, that I longed for the hour of repose, that T might 
 reiterate the visionary bliss. 
 
 But new embarrassments awaited me ; doctors, apothecaries, grocers, 
 &c. &c. advanced with their bills ; yet I was not much affected, I was 
 overwhelmed by far greater afflictions. My health had greatly suffered. 
 My sight, by excess of sorrow, so said my physician, was almost 
 gone. Often have I traversed George's- Fields, where many have met 
 death on the point of the foot-pad's dagger, in the mournful hope of 
 meeting a similar fate ; forgetting, in the state to which I was reduced, 
 that, in thus devoting myself to destruction, I indubitably ranked with 
 the self -murderer. The eldest brother of my departed friend contin- 
 ued, from the period of his sister's demise, uniformly kind ; through his 
 instrumentality, many of my most pressing debts were discharged. 
 My mind seemed subdued ; it became a fit residence for sorrow, when 
 I received a letter from Ireland, written by my brother James. Many of 
 our family were numbered with the dead ; of all her children, my 
 mother had now only three surviving sons, and two daughters. My 
 eldest sister was married; and my mother, leaving our common property 
 in her care, was about to repair with her youngest daughter, and two 
 sons, to England. She was not apprized of the death of my Eliza. I 
 had written her, that I was blest with a most lovely, and exemplary 
 companion ; but from the death of my son, and the farther, and en- 
 tire prostration of my terrestrial happiness, I l^ad suspended my com- 
 munications. I was now again necessitated to take a house ; my mo- 
 ther and my brothers resided with me ; and my sister with a lady, to 
 whom she had been introduced in Ireland. She hooii after married, 
 and, as I believed imprudently, and I saw her no more. 1 now 
 lived a mournful life the world appeared to me in a very different 
 
I 10 UFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 point of view, from what it had formerly done ; yet I derived ecstatic 
 pleasure from my views of revelation. William Neale became con- 
 vinced of the truth, as it is in Jesus ; and, of course, an adherent of Mr. 
 Relly. This soothed me, and the word of God was au abiding con- 
 solation. To a few individuals I was made a messenger of peace ; but 
 my mother, and my brother James, remained inveterate opposers of 
 the doctrines I had embraced. I sometimes visited the tabernacle, 
 and, conceiving an affection for all men, I had a kind of satisfaction in 
 standing in the rnidst of my brethren. It was at the tabernacle I was 
 informed, that a poor, unhappy, widowed woman, sister to a man 
 whom I had loved, was in most deplorable circumstances ; she had 
 been deceived by a villain ; her kindred had been made acquainted with 
 her situation, but their indignation was kindled against her ; they would 
 not see her ; and her religious connexions abandoned her, while she was 
 suffering all the miseries of want, accompanied by her own agonizing 
 reflections. I discovered her in a miserable room ; no glass in the 
 windows, no fire in the chimney ; she was laying on something which 
 had been a bed ; a child, of a few days old, in her bosom, but no 
 nourishment for it ; another child dead by her side, and a third ap- 
 parently dying. Upon my entrance she covered her face with her 
 hands. " I know you, sir ; you are come to upbraid rne ; yes, I deserve 
 it all ; but by and by my measure will be full." I burst into tear?. 
 I come to upbraid you 1 God forbid. No, poor sufferer, I am come 
 a messenger from that God, who giveth liberally, and upbraideth not. 
 Be of good cheer, you have still a Father, who loves you with an 
 everlasting love, and he has sent me to comfort you ; he has seen your 
 affliction, and he has bid me relieve you. 
 
 This seemed too much for the poor, forlorn creature ; she appeared 
 in the moment of expiring. I ran out of the house, into a shop at the 
 corner of the alley, the mistress of which was, to my knowledge, 
 perfectly acquainted with the situation of the sufferer. I demanded, 
 why she thus neglected a human being 1 " Ah, the wretched creature, 
 she deserves this and more," was this good woman's reply. But al- 
 though neither the love of God, nor of human nature, could move this 
 hard-hearted woman, I had that in my pocket, which possessed, for 
 her, an irresistible charm ; and, at the hazard of my reputation, I bade 
 her procure coal, a restorative cordial, and a blanket to cover the sufferer. 
 I then proceeded to the dwelling of a lady, one of Mr. Kelly's 
 congregation, to whom I had recently been introduced ; I represented 
 the situation, in which, in the midst of an opulent city, I had discovered 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. Ill 
 
 a fellow creature. The lady was extremely affected, and her aid was 
 instantaneous. The next day, Sunday, I again visited the poor penitent, 
 whom I found relieved and comforted. She requested me, with many 
 tears, to put up a note for her in the tabernacle. There happened, on 
 that day, to preach in the tabernacle, a Mr. Edwards, whom I had for- 
 merly known, in connexion with Mr. Wesley. I presented a note in 
 the following words : The prayers of this congregation are requested in 
 behalf of a widow indeed, confined to a bed of sickness, without pro- 
 perty, and encompassed by the dying and the dead. I attended again 
 in the tabernacle in the evening, and when the sermon closed, Mr. Ed- 
 wards said : " If the person be here, who put up the note this morning, 
 in behalf of a widow indeed, I should be giad to speak with him in the 
 vestry." Accordingly presenting myself, I was very cordially received 
 by Mr. Edwards, who observed, he was happy I was the person ; that 
 his feelings had been greatly affected by the note; that he had read it to 
 a lady, at whose house he had dined, who, putting two guineas into his 
 hand, requested him, if possible, to find out the widow indeed, and bes- 
 tow them upon her. T conveyed this little sum to the sorrowing woman, 
 with feelings, which those who know how to sympathize with the unfor- 
 tunate will easily understand ; and I assured the poor mourner, that 
 the God, who gives and forgives, had sent her another proof of his fa- 
 vour. Arise, said T, forlorn sufferer, and sin no more. I had the 
 charge of the child's funeral ; the other recovered. The mother was 
 soon abroad, and continued, ever after, to conduct with exemplary pro- 
 priety. This instance, among a thousand others, proves, that faith in the 
 promises is the best stimulus to that pure, and undefiled religion, which 
 consists in relieving the oppressed of every description : and with grati- 
 tude I confess, that this pure and undefiled religion was, to me, a never- 
 failing source of consolation. I was full of the gospel ; gladly would I 
 have sacrificed my life, if I might thus have brought all men acquainted 
 with the riches of the grace of the gospel of God our Saviour ; and my 
 soul was often wrought up to a degree of ecstacy, by the views, exhibited 
 to my understanding, in the pages of divine revelation. Yes, I have 
 experienced, that a belief of the truth disposes the mind to love God, and 
 to do good to man ; and so greatly was my heart affected by the plan 
 of redemption, that I have, in the midst of the streets of London, been 
 so entranced in contemplating its glories, that I have only been awaken- 
 ed to recollection, by the jostling crowd, who wondered as they passed ; 
 yet, while in the fulness of my heart, I embraced every opportunity of 
 expatiating upon the great salvation 4 every thing beside had lost tjrt 
 
112 tIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 power to charm, or even tranquillize, and the torturing sensations I ex- 
 perienced, from reflecting upon past times, were not to be expressed : 
 Death had for me an angel's face, and I viewed this sometimes king of 
 ferntrs, as my emancipating friend. 
 
 The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhausted. Debts 
 crowded upon me. Demands, which I was utterly unable to answer, 
 were continually made. Had the health of my lovely wife been con- 
 tinued, I was in a very fine way. Her sickness, her death, by dashing 
 from me the cup of felicity, while expenses accumulated, debilitated my 
 mind, and rendered me unequal to those efforts, which my exigencies 
 required. In the midst of my supineness, I was taken by a writ, and 
 borne to a spunging-house. My sensations were, "on this occasion, very 
 different from those, which I had formerly experienced, in a similar situ- 
 ation ; and I derived, from the expected seclusion, a kind of melan- 
 choly pleasure. The officer was astonished at my apathy; I refused sus- 
 tenance, I had no inclination for food. I would swallow nothing, but 
 water. I would have no bed : a bed must be paid for, and I was pen- 
 niless. I slept on the floor of a room, hung with cobwebs, the windows 
 of which were secured by iron bars. I prayed most fervently to Him, 
 with whom are the issues of life and death, that, as He had not allowed 
 his creatures the privilege of departing out of time, when, and how they 
 pleased, He would graciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance 
 from a world, where I could serve neither my God, my neighbour, nor 
 myself. But, alas ! as I have often found, death comes not at call. 
 The barred windows admitted just light enough to announce the return 
 of day ; soon after which, the keeper unlocked the door, and in a surly 
 manner, asked me how I did ? Indifferent, sir, I replied. " By G , 
 I think so ! but, sir, give me leave to tell you, I am not indifferent, and 
 if you do not very soon settle with your creditors, I shall take the liber- 
 ty to lodge you in Newgate. I keep nobody in my house that does not 
 spend any thing, damn-me. I cannot keep house, and pay rent, and 
 taxes for nothing. When a gentleman behaves civil, I behave civil ; 
 but, damn-me, if they are sulky, why then, do ye see, I can be sulky 
 too ; so, sir, you had better tell me what you intend to do ?" Nothing. 
 "Nothing? damn-me,* that's a good one ; then, by G , you shall soon 
 see I will do something, that you will not very well like." He then 
 turned upon his heel, drew the door with a vengeance, and double- 
 locked it. Soon after this, his helpmate presented herself, and began to 
 apologize for her husband ; said he was very quick; hoped I would not 
 be offended, for he was a very good man in the main; that she believed 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 113 
 
 there never was a gentleman in that house, (and she would be bold to 
 say, there had been as good gentlemen there, as in any house in London) 
 who had ever any reason to complain of his conduct. He would wait 
 upon any of my friends, to whom I should think fit to send him, and do 
 all in his power to make matters easy ; " and if you please, sir, you are 
 welcome to come down into the parlour, and breakfast with me." 
 And pray, my good lady, where are you to get your pay ? " O, I will 
 trust to that, sir ; I am sure you are a gentleman ; do, sir, come down 
 and breakfast ; you will be better after breakfast. Bless your soul, sir. 
 why there have been hundreds, who settled their affairs, and did very 
 well afterwards." I was prevailed upon to go down to breakfast. 
 There was, in the centre of ihe entry, a door half way up, with long 
 spikes t ; every window was barred with iron; escape was impossible ; and 
 indeed I had no wish to escape : a kind of mournful insensibility perva- 
 ded my soul, for which I was not then disposed to account, but which 
 I have since regarded as an instance of divine goodness, calculated to 
 preserve my little remains of health, as well as that reason, which had 
 frequently tottered in its seat. To the impertinent prattle of the female 
 turnkey I paid no attention, but, hastily swallowing a cup of tea, I re- 
 tired to my prison. This irritated her ; she expected I would have tar- 
 ried below, and, as is the custom, summoned my friends, who, whether 
 they did any thing for my advantage or not, would, by calling for punch, 
 wine, &c. &c. unquestionably contribute to the advantage of the house. 
 But as I made no proposal of this kind, nor indeed ever intended so 
 to do, they saw it was improbable they should reap any benefit by or 
 from me ; arid having given me a plentiful share of abuse, and appearing 
 much provoked, that they could not move me to anger, they were pre- 
 paring to carry ine to Newgate, there to leave me among other poor, 
 desperate debtors ; and their determination being thus fixed, I was at 
 liberty to continue in my gloomy apartment, and, what I esteemed an 
 especial favour, to remain there uninterrupted. I received no invitation 
 either to dinner, tea, or supper.; they just condescended to inform me, 
 when they came to lock me in, that I should have another lodging the 
 ensuing night : to which I made no reply. My spirits, however, sunk 
 in the prospect of Newgate. There, I was well informed, I could not 
 be alone ; there, I knew, my associates would many of them be atro- 
 cious offenders, and I was in truth immeasurably distressed. It was 
 now, that every argument, which I had ever read in favour of suicide, 
 was most orlieiour-ly obtruded upon my mind, and warmly impressed 
 upon my imagination. It was etatod* that mv Almisjhtv Father could 
 
114 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 not be angry with me for leaving such a world, in such circumstances 
 the opposition of reason seemed to result from the prejudices of educa- 
 tion ; " and," said illusive fancy, " as it is appointed for all men once to 
 die, to do that to-day, which I may do to-morrow, and what I must 
 shortly do, cannot be very wrong." It is true, my monitor assured me, 
 that the God, who had created me, was the only proper judge of the ex- 
 act moment, when I ought to be removed out of time ; that He best 
 knew what benefit might accrue to myself, or the community, by my 
 longer continuance in this vale of tears ; yet these remarks, with many 
 more of the same description, were not sufficiently imposing to endow 
 me with resolution still to "abide the pelting of the pitiless storm ;" and 
 I determined to finish my wretched existence, before the dawning of 
 another morning. This w r as indeed a night of horror ; but, in the mo- 
 ment of executing my fatal, my God-dishonouring purpose, the image 
 of my Eliza, irradiating the prison walls, seemed to stan d before me. 
 She appeared as if commissioned by Heaven to soothe my tortured spi- 
 rit. I prostrated myself before the perhaps imaginary vision, and, for 
 the first moment since I had occupied this dreary abode, my heart soft- 
 ened, and a shower of tears came to my relief ; yea, and I was relieved. 
 My soul became calm, and, although every hope from this world was 
 extinct in my bosom, yet I believed I should be better able to accommo- 
 date, myself, to whatever sufferings the Almighty might think proper to 
 inflict. I passed the remainder of the night in endeavouring to fortify 
 my mind ; a pleasing melancholy took possession of my spirit. I drew 
 consolation from remembering, the time of suffering was not long ; that 
 there was a rest, a life of uninterrupted felicity, beyond the grave ; that 
 of this rest, this life, no power on earth could deprive me ; and that I 
 ought therefore quietly to wait, and patiently to hope, for the salvation 
 of my God. Thus, although my night had been sleepless, my mind 
 became so calm, and my spirit so greatly refreshed, that when the keep- 
 er opened the door in the morning, to inform me, that in three hours he 
 should lodge me in Newgate, I answered with unaffected composure : 
 I am ready, sir. 
 
 In less than an hour, however, I had a new source of inquietude. My 
 brother, William Neale, having received a hint of the arrest, had search- 
 ed from place to place, until at length finding me, with tears of sympathy 
 he reproached me, even in the presence of the woman, for not imme- 
 diately summoning him to my relief. This female turnkey, obser- 
 ving the appearance of my brother, and the feeling manner, in which he 
 nddressed me, began 10 hope, notwithstanding what she had termed my 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 115 
 
 obstinacy, that they should reap some benefit from me after all. "Why," 
 said William, " did you not send for me immediately upon your enter- 
 ing this house ?" " Ay, dear sir, so I said : why, dear sir, said T, can- 
 not you send for some of your friends ? for I know'd as how, the gentle- 
 man had many friends,- and my husband would have gone himself to 
 any part of the town, with all his soul. No one can ever say, that we 
 were backward, in doing every thing in our power to serve and oblige 
 every gentleman, that ever came into our house : and, though T say it, 
 that should not say it, I believe there is not a house, in our way, in Lon- 
 don, that has ever had more good people in it, as a body may say, than 
 ours ; and, says I, Lord, sir, says I, you need not for to make yourself 
 uneasy ; it is no crime, says I, to be in difficulty, or the like of that; the 
 best people in the world, says I, are in the greatest difficulties, says I; I 
 am sure, I have had my share of troubles and difficulties in this world, 
 says I; but I had better, says I, have them here, than in a worse place : 
 I hope, I shall atone for all my sins here." Thus did this creature's 
 tongue run, and would have continued so to do, had not my brother 
 asked, if I had breakfasted ? " Ay, sir, I am glad to hear you say some- 
 thing of that. The poor gentleman has not seemed to care any thing 
 about eating, or drinking : for my part, I was frightened, in the dread 
 of the poor gentleman's dying in the house ; I would have urged him 
 over and over again : but said I, may be he will think as how, that I 
 mean my own interest, and so I did not care to say much about it ; 
 but, sir, the poor gentleman can't think you have any interest." " Get 
 breakfast, ma'am." "Tea or coffee, gentlemen ?" " Both, ma'am, and, 
 do you hear, let us have a private room." " Yes, sir." When left 
 alone, my friend, and brother, again reproached me for delaying my 
 communications to him. I frankly told him, that I was so far from be- 
 ing disposed to solicit his aid, that I seriously regretted he had discover- 
 ed me ; that I had no wish to involve my friends in my difficulties; that 
 I would much rather continue a prisoner, for the remainder of my life, 
 than incur obligations, which I had no prospect of discharging. " Pho, 
 pho," said he, " this is idle talk. You cannot believe, you would be 
 the only sufferer from your continuing in durance." But I should not 
 suffer long. " You know not how long, however ; drop the subject, 
 here is breakfast ; sit you down, and let us breakfast together ; 
 we will resume our subject by and by." Yes, William, we will 
 resume our subject, by and by ; but suffer me to observe, you 
 shall not come under bonds on my account, neither shall you dis- 
 charge my debts ; consent to this stipulation, or I touch no break- 
 
110 UI'E OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 fast. " Pshaw, pshaw, how whimsical ; but eat your breakfast, man : S 
 promise,! will do neither." We then breakfasted in peace, and I derived 
 a mournful kind of pleasure, from the assurance, that I should not in- 
 volve the brother of my Eliza in my ruin. But, how great was my as- 
 tonishment, when he ordered in the officer, who was also master of the 
 house, when, after demanding and discharging his bill, he produced a 
 receipt in full from my creditor, and a complete discharge for me. 
 Thus was I liberated from the fangs of these harpies, and I accompa- 
 nied this commiserating brother to his hospitable mansion, where he 
 related to me the means, by which he had discovered me. 
 
 Quitting this noble-minded friend, I. hastened home to my suffering 
 mother, who was in agonies on my account ; ignorant where I was, or 
 what was my situation, her apprehensions were of the most fearful kind. 
 We mingled our tears, while she most affectionately endeavoured to 
 soothe me, and to bind up my broken heart ; but my only remaining 
 hope was, that, in this distempered state, I had not long to suffer. But, 
 alas ! here also I was deceived ; long, very long have I continued, 
 and with heart-felt sorrow, to tread this thorny maze. The brothers 
 of my departed angel combined to help me forward ; many plans were 
 proposed for me ; a sum of money was hired to place me, as a partner, 
 in a mercantile house, and my brothers were my bondsmen ! I detest- 
 ed the thought of new prospects from such a world as this, but, to my 
 beloved William, I was largely in debt ; he had a growing family, 
 and both gratitude, as well as justice, demanded I should make every 
 effort for his remuneration. Thus I again became a melancholy man 
 of business. It was supposed the road, not only to competency, but to 
 affluence, was open before me, and I was pronounced in flourishing 
 circumstances. It was, for those who loved me, a pleasing dream ; 
 but soon the golden vision vanished, and I awoke to the certainty of 
 its being no more than a dream. 
 
 Again I returned to my lonely dwelling ; pleased with the thought, 
 that my solitude would no more be interrupted ; again I detested the 
 world, and all which it could bestow. Thus a few more melancholy 
 months rolled mournfully away, and I expected to finish my days in 
 the retirement, to which I was devoted. One consideration, how r ever, 
 still pressed heavily upon my mind. The very considerable sums, for 
 which I was indebted to my generous brother, was, to me, a mighty 
 burden ; and this beloved brother, availing himself of my anxiety on 
 this account, once more set me afloat. Many were the efforts, to which 
 I consented : great were my mental sacrifices. But one expedient re- 
 
LIKE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 117 
 
 mained ; it was a mournful expedient. I will not delineate. I pause ; 
 I throw a veil over many revolving months ; let it suffice to say, my 
 purpose was gained, my debts were paid, my pecuniary circumstances 
 easy ; but this was all. How mysterious are the ways of heaven ! 
 how many torturing scenes I have passed through ! But, blessed be 
 God, I have passed through them. Thanks be to the Father of mer- 
 cies, they can no more be reiterated : My newly acquired competency 
 possessed no charms for me ; I derived no satisfaction from any thing 
 around me. In fact, I had nothing in prospect, and hope seemed to 
 have expired in my bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The bereaved man, quitting his native shores, embarks for America : 
 indulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in the solitude, for 
 which he sighed. But, contrary to his expectations, a series of cir- 
 cumstances combine to produce him a Promulgator of the Gospel of 
 God, our Saviour. 
 
 Death's sable pall o'er all my pleasures thrown, 
 My native isle to me a desert grown ; 
 Sad and forlorn, to the new world I fled, 
 Amid its wilds to shield my widowed head. 
 
 TTAVING, as has been described, laid the companion of my youth, 
 the wife of my bosom, in the grave ; my spirit still hovered round 
 her tomb. It has been seen, that my life seemed devoted to misery ; 
 that I wept at all times, except when I turnfrl my attention to that 
 bright world, upon which, I imagined, I was verging ; that I wished 
 the act of putting a period to a weary life had ranked among the Chris- 
 tian virtues ; that I never more passionately longed for any good, than 
 for the period, which was to put an end to my existence ; that I had 
 but few acquaintance, that I wished not to form new connexions ; that 
 I was sick of the world, and all which it could bestow ; that the retire- 
 ment of my lonely dwelling was most acceptable to me ; that I abhorred 
 the thought of expecting any thing like happiness in this world ; and, 
 that I thus passed weeks and months, verily believing, that I should 
 thus finish days, which, I cherished a soothing hope, would,, soon be 
 numbered. 
 
 Through those sad scenes of sorrow, to which I was condemned, I 
 had one friend, one earthly friend, from whom I derived real" consola- 
 tion. This friend was Mr. James Reljy, the man who had been made 
 o 
 
118 UFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 an instrument, in the hand of God, of leading me into an acquaintance 
 with the truth, as it is in Jesus. This kind friend often visited me ; and 
 in conversing with him, I found my heart lightened of its burden ; 1 
 could better bear the pitiless storm, that beat upon me, when strength- 
 ened by the example of this son of sorrow ; we frequently conversed 
 upon the things of the kingdom, and Mr. Relly, observing my heart 
 much warmed and enlarged by these subjects, ur^ed me to go forth, 
 and make mention of the loving-kindness of God. No, no, I constant- 
 ly replied, it is not my design again to step forth in a public character. 
 I have been a promulgator of falsehood. " And why not," he would in- 
 terrupt, " a promulgator of truth ? Surely you owe this atonement to 
 the God, who hath irradiated your understanding by the light of his 
 countenance." But no argument, he made use of, was sufficiently 
 strong to excite in my bosom a single wish, that I had either inclination 
 or capability, for a character so arduous ; my heart's desire was to pass, 
 through life, unheard, unseen, unknown to all, as though I ne'er had 
 been. I had an aversion to society, and, since I could not be permitted 
 to leave the world, I was solicitous to retire from its noise and its non- 
 sense ; I was indeed a burden to myself, and no advantage to any body 
 else ; every place, every thing served to render me more miserable, for 
 they led my mind to the contemplation of past scenes, of scenes never 
 more to return. Such was the situation of my mind, when, at the house 
 of one of Mr. Kelly's hearers, I accidentally met a gentleman from 
 America. I listened with attention to his account of the country, in 
 which he had so long resided ; I was charmed with his description of 
 its extent, its forests, its lakes, its rivers, its towns, its inhabitants, the 
 liberty they enjoyed, and the peace and plenty, which they possessed : 
 I listened to every thing with astonishment ; and I turned toward the 
 new world my most ardent wishes. I communicated my desire to visit 
 America to my mother, to my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertain- 
 ing a project so chimerical. What, cross the Atlantic ! For what pur- 
 pose ? To whom would I go ? What could I do ? What object could 
 I have in view ? I was unable to answer any of these questions ; I 
 had not a single acquaintance in America, indeed I had no wish to 
 make acquaintance ; I had nothing in prospect, but a kind of negative 
 happiness ; I did not mean to commence a voyage in pursuit of bliss, 
 but to avoid, if possible, a part of my misery. 
 
 My mind for a considerable time laboured with my purpose ; many 
 difficulties interposed ; I would infinitely have preferred entering that 
 narrow house, which is appointed for all living, but this I was not per- 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 119 
 
 mitted to do ; and 1 conceived, to quit England, and to retire to Amer- 
 ica, was the next thing to be desired. Nights and days of deliberation 
 at length convinced my judgment, and I was determined to depart for 
 the new world. My few friends urged me most earnestly to let them 
 apply to those, who had connexions in America, for letters of introduc- 
 tion, or recommendation. No, by no means, this would most effectually 
 defeat my purpose ; I would rather not go, than go thus. My object 
 was to close my life in solitude, in the most complete retirement ; and 
 with those views I commenced preparations for my voyage. I visited 
 the brother of my departed wife, and I beheld both him, and his chil- 
 dren, with the same eyes a dying person would have beheld them ; tears 
 frequently stole down my face, and a thousand thoughts, that served to 
 harrow up my soul, crowded upon me, I was determined not to repeat 
 this scene, and I bid them adieu ; could I have done this upon a bed of 
 death, how much happier should I have been ! 
 
 The place I now occupied, to which I had recently removed, wa.- 
 extremely beautiful ; it was in the vicinity of London. I had a fine 
 garden, and a delightful prospect ; but my better self had fled this globe, 
 and with her fled my soul's calm sunshine, every heart-felt joy. I was, 
 as I have frequently said, extremely wretched ; I spake to the master 
 of a vessel, bound to New- York ; I agreed for my passage, my heart 
 trembled, it was worse than death. He fixed the time for my depar- 
 ture ; every arrangement was made. My brother, my widowed mo- 
 ther, I met them in my parlour ; it was torturing. " Sit down, my 
 son," said my weeping parent ; my brother appeared a silent spectacle 
 of sorrow : " I know you, my child, too well to expect I can alter 
 your resolution ; it is now too late to beseech you to reflect ; I know 
 you have long reflected, and I am astonished to find you still deter- 
 mined. You have a charming situation ; your prospects are good ; 
 could you but make your mind easy, you might still be happy ; why, 
 then, this aversion to life ?" I interrupted her, by declaring, that the 
 whole world would not, could not detain me longer in England ; yet T 
 passionately loved my country, and my few remaining friends shared the 
 best affections of my heart. This voluntary exile was worse than 
 death ; but I was impelled to go, and go I must. My poor mother 
 threw her fond arms about my neck : " Once more," said she, " you 
 leave me, but not now, as before ; then you left me in my native place, 
 among my natural connexions ; then too, I had hope you would again 
 be restored to me but now " and she burst into tears ; my heart 
 was agonized. I entreated her to consider me, as on the bed of death, 
 

 120 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 nor again to think of me, as of a living son. Be thankful, my mother, 
 be thankful it is no worse ; be thankful I have not fallen a victim to the 
 despondency of my spirit. I leave you with your children, with chil- 
 dren kind, and dutiful ; and, what is better than all, I leave you in the 
 hands, and under the care of a kind God, who hath said, I will never 
 leave you, nor forsake you. " But shall I hear from you, in y son ?" 
 Do not, I entreat you, think of me, as living ; I go to bury myself in 
 the wilds of America ; no one shall hear from me, nor of me. I have 
 done with the world ; and, prostrating myself in the presence of my 
 mother and my God, with streaming eyes, and supplicating hands, 
 I commended my soul, and all who were connected with me, or allied 
 to me, to that Being, who orders all things according to his own good 
 pleasure. 
 
 I left my mother in an agony of affliction, and retired, but not to 
 rest. My baggage had been sent on board ship in the morning, 
 and, accompanied by my brother, we took a boat and passed down to 
 GraveVEnd, where I entered on board the vessel, that was to convey 
 me to America, which, in my then judgment, was tantamount to quit- 
 ting the world. 
 
 The vessel, however, did not sail immediately ; I had an opportunity 
 of going on shore again, and spending some time at GraveVEnd. 
 Fond of being alone, I ascended a lofty eminence, and sat me down 
 under the shade of a wide spreading tree ; here I had leisure, and in- 
 clination for reflection. On one hand, I beheld the wide ocean, my 
 path to the new world ; on the other, the Thames, upon the silvery sur- 
 face of which, many were passing to London. My mind rapidly ran 
 over the various scenes I had witnessed, since my arrival in that great 
 city. I dwelt upon the good I had lost, never more to be recovered. 
 My soul sickened at the recollection of my heavy bereavement, of the 
 solitary situation, to which 1 was reduced. I was going from a world, 
 h\ which I had some associates, and some friends, into a country where 
 every individual was unknown to me ! I was going on board a vessel, 
 to the crew of which I was an utter stranger all gloomy truly gloomy. 
 One idea, however, continued my abiding consolation ; I might soon 
 finish my course, and bid an eternal adieu to sorrow of every descrip- 
 tion. Yet I trembled at what was before me ; I was fearful I was 
 wrong. Just at this period the wind shifted, the signal was made for 
 sailing ; but before I descended the eminence, I once more threw my 
 eyes upon the surrounding scenes. I felt destitute, and forlorn ; tears 
 gushed in my eyes. My domestic felicity, my social connexions, the 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MUR11AY. 121 
 
 pleasure I had derived from listening to the testimony of truth, these 
 all rushed upon my recollection, with subduing power ; I prostrated 
 myself upon the ground, with streaming ejyes exclaiming : Oh, thou 
 dear parent earth, thou much loved native soi.l, why not open, and give 
 me a quiet resting place in thy bosom. Oh ! ithou dear, departed friend 
 of my soul, hast thou no power to loose the^se chains, that bind me to 
 this state of being. Is there no eye to pity, no hand to help a wretched 
 outcast ? can I not be indulged with death ? But death comes not at 
 call. In this situation I continued, bedewin g the earth with my tears, 
 until it pleased the kind God to speak pe;ace to my tortured heart, 
 and I seemed to hear a voice calling unto m.e, Be of good cheer, your 
 God is with tou, He will never leave you, iwr forsake you ; He is in 
 the wide' waste, as in the fall city. Be not aft aid, when thou passest 
 through the waters ; 1 will be with thee, fear no evil ; the friend of sin- 
 ners will be with thee, and make Iky way plain before thee ; He witt 
 cause the desert to blossom, as the rose. 7i7ie young lions cry, and thy 
 heavenly Father feed-elk them. Thou art nearer and dearer to thy 
 heavenly Father, than alt the inhabitants of the deep, than all the. ten- 
 ants of the forests. Thus did the spirit of grace and consolation com- 
 fort my afflicted heart, so that, after bidding an affectionate adieu to 
 the scenes of the morning and meridian of my days ; after taking what. 
 I believed an eternal leave of my nativ e soil, of my friends, and rela- 
 tives ; after dropping many tears to the memory of each; and, last of all, 
 to the ashes of ray dearer self; with an aching head, a pained heart, and 
 eyes swelled by weeping, on Saturday evening, July twenty-first, in the 
 year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy, I hastened 
 on board the brig " Hand in Hand ;' ' and, upon the ensuing morning, 
 as we passed round B'eachy Head, I beheld the white cliffs of Albion. 
 No language can describe my sensations, as those white cliffs receded 
 from my view, as I toojc a last lo'0k of England ! I retired to my 
 cabin, covered my face, and wept until I was completely exhausted. 
 But God was pleased to lift up the light of his countenance upon me ; 
 my voyage passed more pleasantly,, than I had calculated, and I was 
 the happy instrument of contributing to the comfort of many on board. 
 I was not sick upon the passage, I became more than reconciled to my 
 circumstances, and I almost dreaded the thought of reaching our des- 
 tined port. 
 
 I did not anticipate my fate upon my arrival ; I had determined 
 upon nothing, and yet I wa 3 not distressed ; a perfect indifference 
 pervaded my soul. I had in my trimks jnany articles of clothing, 
 
122 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 more than I should want ; for I did not calculate upon being many 
 years an inhabitant of this globe. I had some money, I had my Bible, 
 and a very large collection of the letters of my Eliza, in which I took 
 much delight ; and, upon the whole, I fancied myself rather rich, than 
 otherwise. In this state of resignation, indifference, or insensibility, I 
 passed the greater part of the voyage. 
 
 As we drew near the coast of America, I experienced none of those 
 delightful sensations, which swelled my bosom, -a few years before on 
 returning to England from Ireland; neither did I experiencetho.se 
 terrifying apprehensions, for which there was such abundant reason, on 
 advancing to an unknown country, without patron, or friend. My 
 mind was calm and unruftled, neither elated by hope, nor depressed by 
 fear. I had obtained precisely that situation, for which I had sup- 
 plicated heaven, when entering upon this untried state of being, hum- 
 bly depending upon that God, who was in every place the same un- 
 changing friend of the creature, whom he had made. I was, as it 
 were, between two worlds ; one I had tried, and, finding it contained 
 more of bitter, than of sweet, I had turned from it with disgust. I 
 advanced toward the other, without high-raised expectations, without 
 fearful apprehensions. I was pleased with the wonders of my God, 
 as I beheld them in the great deep ; I was amazed at the variety of its 
 inhabitants, yet how small a part could I trace. I was astonished at 
 the number of birds, flitting over the ocean ; and I thought, if provision 
 was made for them, I had no reason for fear. On a brilliant moon- 
 light evening, our ship struck on something, which threw us off' our 
 seats' What could it be 1 we were in the centre of the Western ocean. 
 We soon discovered it was a sleeping whale ; we also beheld the wa- 
 ter-spout, so often described, as a surprising phenomenon. Thus was 
 my wondering mind beguiled of its sorrows. We saw a number of 
 vessels on our way, some passing to the country we had left ; my heart 
 sighed, as they pursued their course, and I frequently, and audibly ex- 
 claimed, Dear native country, never more to be seen by me ! nor was 
 the exclamation unaccompanied by a tear. 
 
 We were, as it was supposed, within three days sail of New- York, 
 when we met'a vessel, bound for England. Our merchant questioned 
 the captain, respecting the state of public affairs in America. The 
 Americans had, some time before, entered into the non-importation 
 agreement, and our merchant was anxious, on account of the goods he 
 had on board. The captain assured him, they had given up the agree- 
 ment in Philadelphia, but that they zealously adhered to it in New- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 123 
 
 York. Our captain, therefore, received immediate orders, to change 
 the course of the vessel for Philadelphia ; but when we had got near 
 enough to this harbour to take a pilot, the pilot informed us, the reverse 
 of the information we had received was the truth ; upon which the 
 merchant determined to go as far as the city, there obtain a certainty, 
 and if so, to proceed to New- York, with all possible dispatch. We 
 were a considerable time passing up the Delaware, and, upon a fine 
 day, while we lay at anchor, the merchant proposed going on shore, for 
 the purpose of obtaining corn and fruit. 
 
 It was in the month of September, when we arrived in the Delaware ; 
 the country, upon the banks of this fine river, exhibited a most enchant- 
 ing appearance, especially to those, who had been for many weeks out 
 of sight of land, and had never seen those shores before. As we drew 
 near the land, the woods, seeming to grow out of the water, had to me a 
 very uncommon appearance ; but every thing, in this country, was un- 
 common. We went on shore, and ascended a gentle acclivity, when, 
 entering into a small log-house, I was astonished to see a woman pre- 
 paring some excellent wild ducks for dinner ; live in a log-house, and 
 feed upon ducks ! We passed into her garden, where, amid its rich 
 variety, my attention was arrested by a large peach-tree, loaded with 
 the best fruit, bending to the earth ! I was beyond expression charmed, 
 and delighted, and my heart bent with grateful affection to the univer- 
 sal Parent, for giving the inhabitants of this new world thus liberally 
 to enjoy. When we reached Philadelphia, I was amazed to behold a 
 city of such magnitude, in a country, which I had considered, as a wil- 
 derness. The captain supposed it a disappointment to me, that we had 
 not put into New- York, as that was the place of my destination ; I 
 requested him, to make himself easy, as it was a matter of perfect in- 
 difference to me upon what part of the country I landed ; and, if he 
 could procure me a private lodging, I would go on shore in this city. 
 This he told me he would do, but this he found he could not do, at least 
 in the circle of his connexions. He then proposed my going, by land, 
 to New- York. This also I was willing to do, if he would tet me know 1 
 how. He would send and take me a place ip the stage. The stage had 
 been gone some time. He then proposed I should tarry in the vessel., 
 and set out with him the next morning for New- York, to which 
 arrangement I agreed. The other passengers 'left us in Philadelphia. 
 The water was smooth, and our passage pleasant, until we were, as was 
 iiipposed, near Sandy-Hook ; a dense fog then arose, which was suffi- 
 ciently tkick to prevent our seeing the end of our bowsprit. A 'sloop 
 
124 LIFK OF REV - JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 .shot past us, and we inquired how far we were from Sandy-Hook ? 
 The answer was seventy miles, but we understood seven, and we pressed 
 on, and in a few moments were in the midst of the breakers ; the vessel 
 struck upon the bar, but passed over, into a place we afterwards learned 
 was called Cranberry Inlet. The fog now dispersed, and we discovered 
 we were nearly on shore ; our anchors, however, saved us; but we were 
 greatly alarmed, and never expected to get -off again. The sloop, with 
 which we had spoken, entered this inlet before us, and was light. The 
 captain proposed to engage this sloop to receive on board as much of 
 our cargo, as she could contain ; thus, by lightening his vessel, to give 
 himself the only probable chance of getting off. This was effectuaed, and 
 night coming on, the captain, with many apologies, requested me to 
 lodge on board the sloop, inasmuch as there were many valuable 
 articles, which he was afraid to trust, without a confidential person. To 
 this I readily consented, and taking my Bible, and my purse, I went on 
 board the sloop. The plan of the captain was, supposing the morn- 
 ing should present no prospect of getting off, to deposit the remainder 
 of his cargo upon the beach ; but, if they should get off, we were im- 
 mediately to follow ; the goods were to be replaced ; and the sloop 
 dismissed. I went not to bed, and when the morning dawned, just at 
 high water, the wind blowing from the shore, they got off, making a 
 signal for us to follow ; and with all possible dispatch we prepared to 
 obey, but the wind instantly shifting, drove us back, and they proceeded 
 on to New-York, leaving us in the bay. 
 
 It proved upon examination, we had no provisions on board ; we 
 were, therefore, necessitated to lock up the vessel, and go on shore, 
 in search of sustenance. It was the after part of the day before we could 
 effectuate our purpose, when I went with the boatmen to a tavern, and 
 leaving them there, pursued a solitary walk through the woods, which 
 seemed to surround this place. My naind was greatly agitated ; I was 
 now in the new world ; and in just such a part of this new world, as had 
 appeared so desirable in prospect. Here I was as much alone, as I could 
 wish, and my heart exclaimed : O, that 1 had, in this wilderness, the 
 lodging place of a poor way-faring man ; some cave, some grot, some 
 place where I might finish my days in calm repose. As thus I passed 
 along, thus contemplating, thus supplicating ; I unexpectedly reached 
 a small log-house, and saw a girl cleaning a fresh fish ; 1 requested she 
 would sell it to me. " No, sir, you will find a very great plenty at the 
 next house ; we want this." The next house, what this ? pointing to 
 one in- the wood?. " O no. sir. that is a meeting-house." A meeting- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 125 
 
 house here in these woods? I was exceedingly surprised. "You must 
 pass the meeting-house, sir ; and a little way farther on, you will see the 
 other house, where you will find fish enough." I went forward, I 
 came to the door ; there was indeed a large pile of fish of various sorts, 
 and at a little distance stood a tall man, rough in appearance and 
 evidently advanced in years : Pray, sir, will you have the goodness to 
 sell me one of those fish? "No, sir." That is strange, when you have so 
 many, to refuse me a single fish ! " I did not refuse you a fistj, sir ; you 
 are welcome to as many as you please, but I do not sell this article ; I 
 do not sell fish, sir, T have them for taking up, and you may obtain them 
 the same way." I, thanked him : " But," said he, " what do you 
 want of those fish ]" I informed him, that the mariners, who belonged to 
 the sloop at a distance, were at the tavern, and would be glad, if 1 could 
 procure them something for supper. " Well, sir, I will send rny man 
 over with the fish ; but you can tarry here, and have some dressed for 
 yourself." No, sir, it is proper I should see how they are accommodated. 
 " Well, sir, you shall do as you please ; but, after supper, I beg you 
 would return, and take a bed with us, you will be better pleased here, 
 than at a tavern." I gratefully thanked him, and cheerfully accepted 
 his offer. I was astonished to see so much genuine politeness and 
 urbanity, under so rough a form ; but my astonishment was greatly in- 
 creased on my return. His room was prepared, his fire bright, and his 
 heart open. " Come," said he, " my friend, 1 am glad you have 
 returned, I have longed to see you, I have been expecting you a long 
 time." I was perfectly amazed. What do you mean, sir ? "I must 
 go on in my own way, I am a poor ignorant man, I neither know how 
 to read, nor write ; 1 was born in these woods, and rny father did not 
 think proper to teach me my letters. I worked, on these grounds, until 
 I became a man, when 1 went coasting voyages from hence to New- 
 York. I was then desirous of becoming a husband, but, in going to 
 New- York, I was pressed on board a man of war, and I was taken, in 
 admiral Warren's ship to Cape- Breton. I never drank any rum, so they 
 saved my allowance ; but I would not bear an affront, so if any of the 
 officers struck me, I struck them again, but the admiral took my part, 
 and called me his new-light man. When we reached Louisbourg, I ran 
 away, and travelled barefooted through the country, and almost naked, 
 to New- York, where I was known, and -supplied with clothes and 
 money, and soon returned to this place, when I found my girl married : 
 this rendered me very unhappy, but I recovered my tranquillity and 
 married her sister. I sat down to work ; got forward vf*ry fast ; con- 
 
126 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 structed a saw-mill ; possessed myself of this farm, and five hundred 
 acres of adjoining land. I entered into navigation, became the owner 
 of a sloop, and have got together a large estate. I am, as I said, una- 
 ble either to write or read, but I am capable of reflection ; the sacred 
 scriptures have been often read to me, from which I gather, that there 
 is a great and good Being, to whom we are indebted for all we enjoy. 
 It is this great, and good Being, who hath preserved, and protected me, 
 through innumerable dangers, and, as He had given me a house of my 
 own, I conceived I could not do less than to open it to the stranger, let 
 him be who he would ; and especially, if a travelling minister passed this 
 way, he always received an invitation to put up at my house, and hold 
 his meetings here. I continued this practice for more than seven years, 
 and, illiterate as I was, I used to converse with them, and was fond of 
 asking them questions. They pronounced me an odd mortal, declaring 
 themselves at a loss what to make of me : while I continued to affirm, 
 that I had but one hope ; I believed, that Jesus Christ suffered death for 
 my transgressions, and this alone was sufficient for me. At length my 
 wife grew weary of having meetings held in her house, and I determin- 
 ed to build a house for the worship of God. I had no children, and 
 I knew that I was beholden to Almighty God for every thing, which I 
 possessed ; and it seemed right, I should appropriate a part, of what he 
 had bestowed, for His service. My neighbours offered their assistance. 
 But no, said I ; God has given me enough to do his work, without 
 3 r our aid, and, as he has put it into my heart to do, so I will do. And 
 who, it was asked, will be your preacher ? I answered, God will send 
 me a preacher, and of a very different stamp from those, who hare 
 heretofore preached in my house. The preachers, we have heard, are 
 perpetually contradicting themselves ; but that God, who has put it into 
 my heart to build this house, will send one, who shall deliver unto me 
 his own truth ; who shall speak of Jesus Christ, and his salvation. 
 When the house was finished, I received an application from the Bap- 
 tists ; and I told them, if they could make it appear, that God Almighty 
 was a Baptist, the building should be theirs at once. The Quakers, 
 and Presbyterians, received similar answers. No, said I, as I firmly 
 believe, that all mankind are equally dear to Almighty God, they shall 
 all be equally welcome to preach in this house, which I have built. My 
 neighbours assured me, I never should see a preacher, whose sentiment* 
 corresponded with my own : but my uniform reply was, that I assu- 
 redly should. I engaged, the first year, with a man, whom I greatly 
 disliked ; we parted, and, for some years, we have had no stated min- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 127 
 
 ister. My friends often ask me, " Where is the preacher, of whom 
 you spake ?" And my constant reply has been, He will by and by 
 make his appearance. The moment I beheld your vessel on shore, it 
 seemed as if a voice had audibly sounded in my ear : There, Potter, 
 in that vessel, cast away on that shore, is the preacher, you have been 
 so long expecting. I heard the voice, and I believed the report ; and 
 when you came up to my door, and asked for the fish, the same voice 
 seemed to repeat : Potter, this is the man, this is the person, whom I 
 have sent to preach in your house !" 
 
 I was astonished, immeasurably astonished at Mr. Potter's narrative ; 
 but yet I had not the smallest idea it could ever be realized. I re- 
 quested to know, what he could discern in my appearance, which could 
 lead him to mistake me for a preacher ? " What," said he, " could 
 I discern, when you were in the vessel, that could induce this conclu- 
 clusion ? No, sir, it is not what I saw, or see, but what I feel, which 
 produces iti my mind a full conviction." 
 
 Bat, my dear sir, you are deceived, indeed you are deceived; I nev- 
 er shall preach in this place, nor any where else. 
 
 " Have you never preached 1 can you say, you ha ve never preached ?" 
 
 I cannot, but I never intend to preach again. 
 
 " Has not God lifted up the light of his countenance upon you ? 
 Has he not shown you his truth ?" 
 
 I trust, he has. 
 
 " And how dare you hide this truth ? Do men light a candle to 
 put it under a bushel ? If God has shown you his salvation, why 
 should you not show it to your fellow men ? But I know, that you 
 will ; I am sure, God Almighty has sent you to us for this purpose ; I 
 am not deceived, I am sure I am not deceived." 
 
 I was terrified, as the man thus went on ; and I began to fear, that 
 God, who orders all things according to the council of his own will, 
 had ordained, that thus it should be, and my heart trembled at the idea. 
 I endeavoured, however, to banish rny own fears, and to silence the 
 warm-hearted man, by observing, that I was in the place of a super- 
 cargo; that property to a large amount had been entrusted to my care: 
 and that, the moment the wind changed, I was under the most solemn 
 obligations to depart. 
 
 " The wind will never change, sir, unti) you have delivered to us. 
 in that meeting-house, a message from God. 
 
 Still I was resolutely determined never to enter any pulpit, as a 
 
 preacher ; yet, being rendered truly unhappy, T beggw I might be 
 
 ny pi 
 *<*M 
 
128 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 shown to my bed. He requested I would pray with them, if I had 
 no objection. I asked him, how he could suppose I had any objection 
 to praying ? The Quakers, he said, seldom prayed ; and there were 
 others, who visited him, who were not in the habit of praying. I nev- 
 er propose prayer, sir, lest it should not meet with the approbation of 
 those, with whom I sojourn ; but I am always pleased, when prayer is 
 proposed to me. I prayed, and my heart was greatly enlarged, and 
 softened. Vv'hen we parted for the night, my kind host solemnly re- 
 quested, that I would think of what he had said. Alas ! he need 
 not to have made this request ; it was impossible to banish it from 
 my mind. When I entered my chamber, and shut the door, I burst 
 into tears ; I would have given the world, that I had never left Eng- 
 land. I felt, as if the hand of God was in the events, which had 
 brought rne to this place, and I prayed most ardently, that God would 
 assist and direct me by his counsel. I presented myself before Him. 
 as a man bowed down by calamity ; a melancholy outcast, driven by- 
 repeated afflictions of body and of mind to seek refuge in private life ; 
 to seek solitude amid the wilds of America : Thou knowest, said my 
 oppressed spirit, thou knowest, O Lord, that, if it had pleased thee, I 
 would have preferred death, as the safest, and most sure retreat ; but 
 Thou hast not seen tit to indulge my wishes in this respect. In thy 
 providence, thou hast brought me into this new world ; thou seest how 
 1 >m oppressed by solicitations to speak unto the people the words ot 
 life ; thou knowest, that I am not sufficient for these things ; thou God 
 o' my lathers, thou God of the stranger, look with pity upon the poor, 
 lonely wanderer, now before thee : O thou, that sittest in the heaven, 
 a.id rulest in the earth, and who assurest us, that a hair of our head 
 cannot fall, unnoticed by thee ; O thou, who kindly directest us, thy 
 poor dependent creatures, to acknowledge thee in all their ways, and 
 to make their requests known unto thee in every time of affliction, be- 
 hold thy poor dependent, supplicating thee for thy kind direction and 
 protection ; if thou hast indeed put it into the heart of thy servant to 
 demand of me, the meanest and weakest of all, to whom thou didst 
 ever give power to believe in the name, of thy Son, to declare unto him. 
 and the people of this place, the gospel of thy grace; O God ! in mercy 
 prepare me, prepare me for so vast an undertaking, and let thy pres- 
 ence bq with me ; strengthen me, O Lord, by thy mighty spirit. And il' 
 it be not thy pleasure thus to employ me, for thou, O God, wilt send. 
 by whom thou wilt send, graciously manifest thy will, that so I ma\ 
 not bv any means be drawn into a snare. Thou art the sinner's friend. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 12U 
 
 thou arf the only friend I have. To thee, O thou compassionate Fa- 
 ther of my spirit, encouraged by thy gracious promises, I make applica- 
 tion. Pity, O pity the destitute stranger ; leave me not, I most earn- 
 estly entreat thee, to my own direction. 
 
 Thus did I pray, thus did I weep through the greater part of the 
 Bight ; dreading more than death, even supposing death an object of 
 dread, the thought of engaging, as a public character. On the one 
 hand, I discovered, that if there be a ruling power, a superintending 
 providence, the account, given by the extraordinary man under whose 
 roof I reposed, evinced its operation ; that, if the heart of the creature be 
 indeed in the hand of the Creator, it was manifest, that God had dis- 
 posed the heart of this man to view me as His messenger, sent for the 
 purpose of declaring the counsel of his peace to his creatures. On the 
 other hand, I recollected, that the heart is deceitful, above all things ; 
 that the devices of the adversary are manifold ; and that, had it been the 
 will of God, that I should have become a promulgator of the gospel of 
 his grace, he would have qualified me for an object of such infinite 
 magnitude. If I testified of Jesus according to the scriptures, I well 
 knew upon what I must calculate : the clergy, of all denominations, 
 would unite to oppose me. For I had never met with any individual of 
 that order, either in the Church of Rome, or elsewhere, who were 
 believers of the Gospel, that God preached unto Abraham, that, in 
 Christ Jesus, all the families of the earth should be blessed ; nor did 
 they, as far as I had known, embrace the ministry of reconciliation, 
 committed unto the Apostles, namely, that God teas, in Christ, recon- 
 ciling the world unto Himself, not imputing unto them their trespasses ; 
 nor did they acknowledge the restitution of all things, testified by all 
 God's holy prophets ever since the world began. To these doctrines I 
 supposed clergymen in this, as well as in the country I had left, united 
 in their opposition ; and, convinced that there were no enemies in the 
 world more powerful, than the clergy, I trembled at the thought of 
 stemming the full tide of their displeasure. I was persuaded, that peo- 
 ple in general, being under the dominion of the clergy, would hate 
 where they hated, and report what they reported. Acquainted in some 
 measure with human nature, and with divine revelation, I was certain, 
 that, if I appeared in the character of a real disciple of Christ Jesus ; if 
 I dared to declare the whole truth of God, /all manner of evil would 
 ne said of me; and, although it might be falsely said, while the inventor 
 of the slander would be conscious of its falsehood, the majority of those 
 who heard would yield it credit, and } should become Hie victim of 
 their credulitv. 
 
ISO LIFE OF REV. JOHW MURRAY. 
 
 I knew how Mr. Relly had suffered in England, and the Apostle.* 
 in Judea ; and being a believer in the testimony of God, I was assured, 
 if my doctrines were the same, my treatment would be similar. All 
 this rose to my view, and the prospect was tremendous. Thus I pas- 
 sed the night, and the ensuing morning witnessed my indisposition 
 both of body, and mind. My good friend renewed his solicitations. 
 " Will you, sir, speak to me, and to my neighbours, of the things, 
 which belong to our peace ?" Seeing only thick woods, the tavern 
 across the field exempted, I requested to know what he meant by 
 neighbours ? " O sir, we assemble a large congregation, whenever the 
 meeting-house is opened ; indeed, when my father first settled here, 
 he was obliged to go twenty miles to grind a bushel of corn, but there 
 are now more than seven hundred inhabitants within that distance. 1 ' 
 I was amazed ; indeed every thing I saw, and every thing I heard, 
 amazed me ; nothing, except the religion of the people, resembled 
 what I had left behind. 
 
 My mind continued subjected to the most torturing reflections. J 
 could not bring myself to yield to the entreaties of Mr. Potter, and still 
 I urged the necessity of departing, the moment the wind would answer. 
 Mr. Potter was positive the wind would not change, until I had spo- 
 ken to the people. Most ardently did I desire to escape the importu- 
 nities of this good man. The idea of a crowd, of making a public ex- 
 hibition of myself, was, to my desolate, woe-worn mind, intolerable ; 
 and the suspense, in which I was held, was perfectly agonizing. I 
 could not forbear acknowledging an uncommon coincidence of circum- 
 stances. The hopes and fears of this honest man, so long in operation, 
 yet he evinced great warmth of disposition, and was evidently tinctured 
 with enthusiasm ; but, after making every allowance for these propen- 
 sities, it could not be denied, that an over-ruling Power seemed to ope- 
 rate, in an unusual, and remarkable manner. I could not forbear look- 
 ing back upon the mistakes, made during our passage, even to the 
 coming in to this particular irilet, where no vessel, of the size of the brig 
 n Hand-iu-Hand," had ever before entered ; every circumstance con- 
 tributed to bring me to this house. Mr. Potter's address on seeing me ; 
 his assurance, that he knew I was on board the vessel, when he saw her 
 at a distance : all these considerations pressed with powerful conviction 
 on my mind, and I was ready to say, If God Almighty has, in his 
 providence, so ordered events, as to bring me into this country for the 
 purpose of making manifest the savour of his name, and of bringing 
 
 ,1 
 
 many to the knowledge of the truth ; though I would infinitely prefer 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHtf MURRAY. 131 
 
 death, to entering into a character, which will subject me to what is in- 
 finitely worse than death ; yet, as the issues of life and death are not 
 under my direction, am I not bound to submit to the dispensations of 
 providence ? I wished, however, to be convinced, that it was the will 
 of God, that I should step forth in a character, which would be consid- 
 ered as obnoxious, as truly detestable. I was fully convinced, it was 
 not by the will of the flesh* nor by the will of the world, nor by the" 
 will of the god of this world ; all these were strongly opposed thereto. 
 One moment, I felt my resolution give way; the path, pointed out, seem- 
 ed to brighten upon me : but the next, the difficulties, from within and 
 without, obscured the prospect, and I relapsed into a firm resolution to 
 shelter myself, in solitude, from the hopes, and fears, and the various 
 contentions of men. 
 
 While I thus balanced, the Sabbath advanced. I had ventured to im- 
 plore the God, who had sometimes condescended to indulge individu- 
 als with tokens of his approbation, graciously to indulge me, upon this 
 importantoccasion ; and that, if it were his will, that 1 should obtain the 
 desire of my soul, by passing through life in a private character. If it 
 were not his will, that I should engage as a preacher of the ministry of 
 reconciliation, he would vouchsafe to grant me such a wind, as might 
 bear me from this shore, before the return of another Sabbath. I de- 
 termined to take the changing of the wind for an answer ; and, had the 
 wind changed, it would have borne on its wings full conviction, be- 
 cause it would have corresponded with my wishes. But the wind 
 changed not, and Saturday morning arrived. " Well," said my anx- 
 ious friend, " now let me give notice to my neighbours." No, sir, not 
 yet ; should the wind change by the middle of the afternoon, I must 
 depart. No tongue can tell, nor heart conceive, how much I suffered 
 this afternoon ; but the evening came on, and it was necessary I should 
 determine; and at last, with much fear and trembling, I yielded a reluc- 
 tant consent. Mr. Potter then immediately dispatched his servants, on 
 horseback, to spread the intelligence far and wide, and they were to 
 continue their information, until ten in the evening. 
 
 I had no rest through the night. What should I say, or how address 
 the people? Yet I recollected the admonition of our Lord : " Take, 
 no thought, what you shall say ; it shall be giren you, in that s<nnr 
 hour, what you shall say." Ay, but this protrude was made to his dis- 
 ciples. Well, by this, I shall know if I am a disciple. If God, in his 
 providence, is committing to me a dispensation of the gospel, He will 
 furnish me with matter, without my thought, or can*. If this thing be 
 
13 C 2 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 not of God, He will desert me, and this shall be another sign ; on tin.- 
 then, I rested. Sunday morning succeeded ; my host was in transports. 
 I was I cannot describe how I was. I entered the house ; it was neat 
 and convenient, expressive of the character of the builder. There 
 were no pews ; the pulpit was rather in the Quaker mode ; the seatp 
 were constructed with backs roomy, and even elegant. 1 said there 
 were no pews ; there was one large square pew, just before the pulpit: in 
 this sat the venerable man and his family, particular friends, and visit- 
 ing strangers. In this pew sat, upon this occasion, this happy man, 
 and, surely, no man, upon this side heaven, was ever more completely 
 happy. He looked up to the pulpit with eyes sparkling with pleasure ; 
 it appeared to him, as the fulfilment of a promise long deferred ; and 
 he reflected, with abundant consolation, on the strong faith, which he 
 had cherished, while his associates would tauntingly question, " Well, 
 Potter, where is this minister, who is to be sent to you ?" " He is 
 coming along, in God's own good time." " And do you still believe 
 any such preacher will visit you ?" " O yes, assuredly. 1 ' He reflect- 
 tjd upon all this, and tears of transport filled his eyes ; he looked round 
 upon the people, and every feature seemed to say, " There, what think 
 you now ?" When I returned to his house, he caught me in his arms, 
 " Now, now, I am willing to depart ; Oh, my God ! I w 11 praise 
 thee ; thou hast granted me my desire. After this truth I have been 
 seeking, but I have never found it, until now ; I knew, that God, who 
 put it into my heart to build a house for his worship, would send a 
 servant of his own to proclaim his own gospel. I knew, he would ; 
 I knew the time was come, when I saw the vessel grounded ; I knew, 
 you were the man, when I saw you approach my door, and my heart 
 leaped for joy." Visitors poured into the house ; he took each by the 
 hand. " This is the happiest day of my life," said the transported 
 man : " There, neighbours, there is the minister God promised to send 
 me ; how do you like God's minister ?" I ran from the company, and 
 prostrating myself before the throne of grace, besought my God to take 
 me, and do with me, whatever he pleased. I am, said I, I am, O 
 Lord God, in thine hand, as clay in the hand of the potter. If thou, 
 in thy providence, hast brought me into this new world to make known, 
 unto this people, the grace and the blessings of the new covenant ; if 
 thou hast thought proper, by making choice of so weak an instrument, 
 to confound the wise ; if thou hast been pleased to show to a babe, 
 possessing neither wisdom nor prudence, what thou hast hid from the 
 wise and prudent, be it so, O Father, for so it seemeth good in thy 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 sight. But, O my merciful God 1 leave me not, I beseech thee, for a 
 single moment ; for without thee, I can do nothing. O, make thy 
 strength perfect in my weakness, that the world may see that thine is 
 the power, and that, therefore, thine ought to be the glory. Thus my 
 heart prayed, while supplicating tears bedewed my face. 
 
 I felt, however, relieved and tranquillized, for I had power given me 
 to trust in the name of the Lord ; to stay upon the God of my salvation. 
 Immediately upon my return to the company, my boatmen entered the 
 house : " The wind is fair, sir." Well, then, we will depart. It is late 
 in the afternoon, but no matter, I will embark directly ; I have been 
 determined to embrace the first opportunity, well knowing the suspense 
 the capta , must be in, and the pain attendant thereon. Accordingly, 
 as soon as matters could be adjusted, I set off; but not till my old 
 friend, taking me by the hand, said : "You are now going to New- 
 York ; I am afraid you will, when there, forget the man, to whom 
 your Master sent you. But I do beseech you, come back to me again 
 as soon, as possible." The tears gushed into his eyes, and, regarding 
 me with a look, indicative of the strongest affection, he threw his arms 
 around me, repeating his importunities, that I w r ould not unnecessarily 
 delay my return. I was greatly affected, reiterating the strongest assur- 
 ances, that I would conform to his wishes. Why should I not? said I ; 
 what is there to prevent me ? I do not know an individual in New- 
 York ; no one knows me ; what should induce me to tarry there ? " Ah, 
 my friend," said he, " you will find many in New- York, who will love 
 and admire you, and they will wish to detain you in that city. But 
 you have promised you will return, and I am sure you will perform 
 your promise ; and in the mean time, may the God of heaven be with 
 you." Unable to reply, I hurried from his door ; and, on entering the 
 vessel, I found the good old man had generously attended, to what 
 had made no part of my care, by making ample provision, both for me 
 and the boatmen, during our little voyage. 
 
 I retired to the cabin : I had leisure for serious reflections, and serious 
 reflections crowded upon me. I was astonished, I was lost in wonder, in 
 love, and in praise ; I saw, as evidently as I could see any object, visi- 
 bly exhibited before me, that the good hand of God was in all these 
 things. It is, I spontaneously exclaimed, it is the Lord's doings ! and 
 it is marvellous in my eyes. It appeared to me, that I could trace the 
 hand of God, in bringing me, through a long chain o't events, to such a 
 place, to such a person, so evidently prepared for my reception : and, 
 while I acknowledged the will of God, manifested respecting my pub- 
 
134 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 lie character, I at the same moment distinguished the kindness of God, 
 evinced by his indulging me with a retirement so exactly suited to my 
 wishes. The house was neat, the situation enchanting, it was on the 
 margin of the deep, on the side of an extensive bay, which abounded 
 with fish of every description, and a great variety of water fowl. On 
 the other side of this dwelling, after passing over a few fields, (which 
 at that time stood thick with corn,) venerable woods, that seemed the 
 coevals of time, presented a * scene for contemplation fit, towering ma- 
 jestic, and filling the devotional mind with a religious awe.* I reflect- 
 ed, therefore, with augmenting gratitude to my heavenly Father, upon 
 the pressing invitation, he had put it into the heart of his faithful ser- 
 vant to give me ; and I determined to hasten back to this delightful 
 retreat, where nothing, but the grandeur of simple nature, exhibited in 
 the surrounding objects, and the genuine operations of the divine spirit 
 on the heart of the hospitable master, awaited my approach. 
 
 I had not the least idea of tarrying in New-York a moment longer, 
 than to see the captain, deliver up my charge, and receive my baggage, 
 and I resolved to return, by the first opportunity, to my benevolent 
 friend. And thus did I make up my mind : Well, if it be so, I am 
 grateful to God, that the business is thus adjusted. If I must be a pro- 
 mulgator of these glad, these vast, yet obnoxious tidings, I shall how- 
 ever be sheltered in the bosom of friendship, in the bosom of retirement. 
 I will employ myself on the grounds of my friend, thus earning my 
 own support, and health will be a concomitant ; while I will preach *.he 
 glad tidings of salvation, free as the light of heaven. The business, 
 thus arranged, I became reconciled to the will of the AlmigHty, and 
 I commenced, with tolerable composure, another, and very important 
 stage of my various life. 
 
 CHAPTER VJ. 
 
 Record continued from the September of 1770 to the Winter of 1774. 
 
 u Arm'd with the sword of Jesse's youthful son, 
 Engag'd with ardour in the freedom won 
 By Christ, the anointed God of earth and Heaven, 
 Dare nobly, Murray, tell the boon that's given." 
 
 Motto by a Friend. 
 
 TOEHOLD me now entering upon a new stage of the journey of life, 
 ""^ a professed preacher of the gospel. Of my inability for an under- 
 taking so vast, I retained a continued, and depressing sense : but I 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 135 
 
 determined to be as consistent, and as useful, as possible ; I would be 
 an assistant to my new friend in his agricultural and fishing employ- 
 ments ; and, upon every returning Sunday, I would preach to him the 
 truth, as it is in Jesus ; (I had not the most remote idea of ever preach- 
 ing any where, but in the house, which he had built ;) and thus I should 
 questionless be indulged with the retirement, which had been the prime 
 object of my voyage. Thus consolatory were my reflections upon my 
 passage to New- York ; at which place I arrived about noon, upon the- 
 ensuing day. I inquired for the captain, delivered up my charge, took 
 my baggage from the brig Hand-in-Hand, and secured a lodging, until 
 I could obtain a passage back to the hospitable mansion I had left. 
 But the day had not closed in, before a number of persons visited me, 
 earnestly soliciting me to speak to them of the things of the kingdom ! 
 I was immeasurably astonished ; totally a stranger in the city, I could 
 scarcely believe I was not in a dream. The boatmen, however, having 
 given an account of me on their arrival, the intelligence was wafted 
 from one end of the city unto the other ; and the people, being anxious 
 to hear something new, and from a new preacher, became extremely 
 importunate. I could not deny, that I had preached ; but I gave the 
 solicitors to understand, that I had absolutely engaged to return by the 
 first opportunity, and that, of course, I was not at liberty to comply 
 with their request. They promised they would insure me a speedy, 
 and eligible conveyance, if I would consent to give them a discourse in 
 the Baptist meeting-house; and it became impossible to resist their 
 persuasfons. The house was thronged, and the hearers so well satisfied, 
 as to solicit, most earnestly, my continuance among them. But this I 
 was not disposed to do ; this I could not do ; my word, my honour was 
 engaged to my first American friend ; and, when duty is seconded by 
 inclination, perseverance becomes a matter of course. Upwards of a 
 week elapsed, before the earnestly sought- for passage presented, during 
 which period I frequently preached, and to crowded houses. I was 
 gratified by the marked attention of many characters. Novelty is rarely 
 destitute of attraction. Even the minister extended to me the hand of 
 apparent friendship ; which I accounted for upon a supposition, that he 
 was ignorant of my testimony. I made use of the same scriptures, which 
 he made use of ; and he was not apprized, that I yielded them unquali- 
 fied credence. I had no doubt, that, so soon as he should be informed, 
 that I believed what I delivered, he would condemn, as much as he now 
 appeared to approve. Yet some few there were, firm, unchanging 
 friends, whose attachment to me, and rfly testimony, has to this moment 
 
136 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 continued uu broken. So soon, as an opportunity to return presented, 
 I very cheerfully embraced it ; and I felt my heart bound with pleasure, 
 at the thought of that meeting, which, a few days before, I would have 
 died to avoid. The charming retreat, in the gift of my friend, was, in 
 my estimation, highly preferable to New- York, and all which it could 
 bestow : and I longed most earnestly to quit the one, and return to the 
 other. A number of friends accompanied me to the vessel, and we 
 parted, with expressions of regret. A single day produced me again in 
 the abode of genuine, Christian friendship ; to which I was welcomed 
 with every demonstration of heart-felt joy. 
 
 Here, then, I considered Iliad found a permanent home ; that a final 
 period was at length put to my wanderings ; and, after all my apprehen- 
 sive dread, from being drawn into the public character, now, that I had 
 a prospect of sustaining this public character, in so private a manner, I 
 was not only reconciled, but tranquillized, and happy. I had leisure 
 to retrospect my past life, and I was filled with astonishment when I 
 beheld all the various paths, which I had trod, ultimately leading me 
 to a uniform contemplation of redeeming love ; nor could I forbear 
 exclaiming : Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty ! 
 just and true are thy ways, O, thou King of saints ! 
 
 The winter how approached, and with hasty strides ; my worthy 
 friend was diligently gathering in the fruits of the earth. I was disposed 
 to aid him, to the utmost of my abilities. He could not bear the 
 thought of my labouring in the field. " Why need you ? have you not 
 enough to engage your attention, in the business, on which ^ou are 
 sent ? Believe me my friend, my employment, in your field, will not 
 interrupt my reflections. I can study better in jthe field, than in the 
 chamber ; it requires but little study to deliver simple, plain, gospel 
 truth ; to pervert this truth, requires a vast deal of worldly wisdom. 
 Let me, my dear sir, do as I please ; I have fixed upon a plan, with 
 which you shall be acquainted, when the labours of the day are closed. 
 In the evening, when the cheerful fire blazed upon the hearth, and we 
 wore seated in the well-lighted parlour : " Come," said the good man, 
 ** no\v*for your plan." I think, my dear sir, said I, I am at length 
 convinced, that God in his providence has thought proper to appoint 
 me, however unworthy, to the ministry of the new testament ; and w r hile 
 persuaded, that oar common Father has committed a dispensation of the 
 go: : pel to me, and that a woo is pronounced against me, if I preach it 
 not, it will be impossible I should remain silent : but knowing, as 
 I. do, something of the nature of man, and of the situation of preachers 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 137 
 
 in general, I am, for myself, determined not to make a gain of godli- 
 ness ; I will make no provision for myself. I have abundance of 
 cloathing ; and as to food, I will eat of whatever is set before me, ask- 
 ing no questions, either for the sake of conscience, or appetite ; and for 
 my drink, nothing is so salutary for me, as cold water. I am persuaded, 
 I shall not live long in this world ; at least, I hope I shall not. I am 
 alone in the world ; I shall want but little here, l nor want that little 
 long.' I reject, then, with my whole soul I reject, the li beral offer, you 
 so recently made me, of a fixed stipend. I will have no salary, I will 
 have no collections, I will preach the gospel, freely. I will work in 
 your fields, I will eat at your table, I will slake my thirst at the limpid 
 stream, which furnishes your family ; but you shall make no change in 
 the order of your house, on my account. I will associate with your 
 associates. I expect to meet them, at the table of my great Lord and 
 Master, in mansions beyond the grave ; and shall I hesitate to meet 
 them, upon equal terms, in this lower world ? I am pleased with your 
 situation ; with your house of worship ; with your neighbours ; with 
 every thing I am pleased ; and if that God, who brought me hither, 
 will graciously vouchsafe to indulge me with the privilege of tarrying 
 here, until I am liberated from this body of sin and death, I shall be 
 still better pleased. 
 
 The good old gentleman could no longer suppress his feelings. lie 
 arose from his seat, caught me in his arms, essayed to speak, paused, 
 and at length exclaimed : " O my God, is it possible ? Why such, I 
 have thought, ministers of Jesus Christ ought to be." But, my friend, 
 I replied, every minister of Jesus Christ cannot live, as I can. I have 
 no family, no home, no want. If I had a family, I should be worse 
 than an infidel, not to make provision for my household ; but God, by 
 separating me from my beloved companion, and from my cherub boy, 
 has enabled me to preach the gospel, freely. I never saw any man so 
 delighted, and especially with my determination to continue with him. 
 Dear, kind-hearted man, both he, and I, then believed, that death only 
 could separate us.* In a place, so remote from the world, I imagined 
 I should enjoy, uninterruptedly, every wish of my heart ; and again and 
 again I felicitated myself in the prospect of finishing my weary life in this 
 sweet, this calm retreat, unincumbered by care, conferring, as well as 
 
 * If the reader wishes to peruse a delineation of the feelings of the subject of 
 this biography, upon visiting this delightful retreat, after the demise of its phi- 
 lanthropic owner, with a sermon, preached upon the occasion, he may see both 
 in the Eleventh Letter, Vol. I. of the "Letters and Sketches of Sermons," n- 
 rently published by the now departed preacher. Editor. 
 
138 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 receiving, benefits, nobly independent, possessing all, which the 
 treacherous world could now bestow. Thus I went on, pleased, and 
 pleasing. I had leisure for converse with myself, with ray bible, and 
 my God. The letters of my Eliza were a source of mournfully pen- 
 sive consolation, they were multiplied, and I had carefully preserv- 
 ed them. Many a time have I shed over them the private, the mid- 
 night tear ; and reading them thus late, when I have fallen into a sweet 
 slumber, I have met the lovely author in my dreams, and our meeting 
 has been replete with consolation, with such high intercourse, as can 
 only be realized in heaven. Our Sundays were indeed blessed holy- 
 days ; people began to throng from all quarters on horseback ; some 
 from the distance of twenty miles. I was at first pleased with this, so 
 was my patron ; but multiplied invitations to visit other places, sadden- 
 ed our spirits. I dreaded the thought of departing from home, and, 
 in the fulness of my heart, I determined I would never accede to any 
 request, which should bear me from a seclusion, so completely com- 
 mensurate with my wishes. Alas I alas ! how little do we know of 
 ourselves, or our destination. Solicitations, earnest solicitations, poured 
 in from the Jersies, from Philadelphia, and from New- York ; and it 
 became impossible to withstand their repeated and imposing energy. 
 
 The first visit I made, was to a village about eight miles from my 
 late-found home. My patron accompanied me, and we were joyfully re- 
 ceived, by a serious and respectable family, wMb embraced, with devout 
 hearts, the truth, as it is in Jesus ; and who were consequently saved 
 from all those torturing fears, that had previously harrowed up their 
 spirits, in the dread expectation of those everlasting burnings, which 
 they believed awaited themselves, and their offspring. In this village, 
 I one morning entered a house, and beheld a fond mother weeping 
 over an infant, who lay sweetly sleeping in her arms. Sympathy for 
 the sorrowing mother moistened my eye ; and, supposing that her 
 tears flowed from some domestic distress, or pecuniary embarrassment, 
 I endeavoured to console her, by observing, that the world was very 
 wide, and that God was an all-sufficient Father. " Alas ! sir," she 
 replied, " I never, in the whole course of my life, experienced a mo- 
 ment's anxiety from the dread of my children, or myself, suffering the 
 want either of food, or raiment. No, sir, my fears are, that they will 
 be sufferers, through the wasteless ages of eternity, in that state of 
 torment, from whence there is no reprieve ; and that they will continu- 
 ally execrate their parents, as the wretched instruments of bringing them 
 into being. I have eight children, sir ; and can I be so arrogant, as to 
 
JJIPE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 139 
 
 believe, that all those children are elected to everlasting life ?" But, my 
 dear lady, you have reason to believe they will be saved, whether they 
 be elected or not, because Christ Jesus is the Saviour of all men. This 
 did not satisfy her. I took up the bible, which lay upon her desk, and" 
 the first scripture, which met my view, was the 127 Psalm. I glanced 
 my eye upon the 3d verse of that Psalm : " Lo, children are the herit- 
 age of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is His reward." I did not 
 recollect this passage ; it was the first time it had met my particular ob- 
 servation ; but it has ever since been right precious to my soul. I 
 merely opened the bible, in the expectation of finding something to 
 soothe a sorrowing mother, and this most pertinent passage broke upon 
 me, with unequalled splendor. I was myself astonished, and present- 
 ing the sacred passage, I remarked : There, madam, God has sent you, 
 for your consolation, this divine discovery. You have been unhappy, 
 because you did not know, that your children were God's children, and 
 that He loved them as well, yea, infinitely better, than you can pretend 
 to love them. Nay, look at the passage, you see your children are the 
 heritage of God, they are his reward ; will He give His heritage to His 
 adversary ? or will He suffer him to seize any part thereof, if He has 
 sufficient power to prevent it 1 Again and again, the fond mother pe- 
 rused the passage ; gradually her countenance changed, and the clouds 
 dispersed ; a flood of tears burst from her eyes ; she brightened up, and, 
 pressing her babe to her maternal bosom, rapturously exclaimed : " Bles- 
 sed, blessed God, they are' not mine ; they are thine, O Almighty Fath- 
 er ; and thou wilt not be regardless of thine own !" I never saw more 
 joy in consequence of believing, than I then beheld. Ten years after- 
 wards, I again saw this parent, and asked her, what she thought of her 
 children ? Blessed be God, said she, they are God's children ; and I 
 have never had an unhappy moment respecting their future state, since 
 my Redeemer has been graciously pleased to make known unto me his 
 soul-satisfying truth. No, sir, my spirit is not now a sorrowing spirit. 
 
 Again a letter was handed me from New- York, earnestly entreating 
 me to pay them a visit. Arrangements were made for my passage in 
 the vessel, by which I received the solicitation. To a summons so 
 pressing, I dared not turn a deaf ear. In fact, a revolution had taken 
 place in my mind. It appeared to me, that I was highly reprehensible 
 in thus withdrawing myself from the tour of duty, which seemed ap- 
 pointed for me ; and I determined never to seek, directly or indirectly, 
 for an open door, and never again to refuse entering any door, which 
 providence, should open. It is true, I never wished to receive an invi- 
 
140 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUIIKAV. 
 
 tation ; but 1 was aware, that the direction of me and my movements 
 were in the hands of infinite wisdom ; and promising my benevolent 
 host, that I w r ould return as soon as possible, I departed for New- York. 
 My reception surpassed my expectations, and even rny wishes. Many 
 persons, anxious to detain me in their city, went so far, as to hand about 
 a subscription-paper, for the purpose of building for me a house of pub- 
 lic worship. It was completely filled in one day, when -application 
 was made to me to abide with them continually. I urged, my abso- 
 lute promise given, and my inclination, prompting my return to Good 
 Luck, the name of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They werfe 
 astonished at my determination to reside in such a place, when the city 
 of New- York was opening its arms to receive me ; but, on my repeat- 
 ing the circumstances, attendant upon my arrival there, they seemed dis- 
 posed to acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God out- 
 stretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting-house was again 
 open to me, and the congregations were very large : my friends multi- 
 plied very fast, and I became gradually attached to this city. Yet I 
 ardently desired to return to the home of my choice, and, after spending 
 a few weeks in New- York, I once more hailed my providential resi- 
 dence ; numbers of warm-hearted friends accompanying me, as before, 
 even to the vessel's side, where they offered up to heaven their most 
 fervent prayers in my behalf. My heart was greatly affected, I was 
 warmly attached to many in New- York. Tljie family of Col. Drake, 
 and many others, nbw no more, were very dear to me. I reached home 
 in good health, and was received with great joy ; even the servants 
 seemed to participate the benevolence of their master. In fact, having 
 nothing in the habitation of my friend to render me uneasy, my mind 
 became more tranquil, than it had been for many years ; and, at peace in 
 my own breast, I consequently contributed to the happiness of all 
 around me. Thus I continued in undisturbed repose, until a Baptist 
 minister from New-Jersey, believing my sentiments precisely in unison 
 with his own, conceived a strong affection for me. He solicited me to 
 become a member of his church, that I might obtain a licence from their 
 association. Of course, I declined his friendly offers ; for I well knew, 
 when he discovered I really believed the gospel, which I preached, 
 uniting with his brethren, he would be as anxious to exclude me from 
 his synagogue, as he now was to receive me. He pressed me, how- 
 ever, to visit him, which I did, accompanied by my patron, wl;o, to his 
 great mortification, was necessitated to leave me there. In this gentle- 
 man's pulpit I preached : I lodged in his house; and received from him 
 
I 
 
 v LIFE OF REV! JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 every mark of attention, until my unbending refusal of all collections, 
 and the partiality of his friends, visibly diminished his regards. I had 
 calculated upon this change, and it did not therefore astonish me. He 
 was, however, a warm-hearted man, and as sincere, as men in general 
 are. In this place I was introduced to many worthy characters, who, 
 as a part of the election, obtained a knowledge of the truth, as it is in 
 Jesus ; among the rest was a justice Pangburn, a venerable old gentle- 
 man, who had for many years been considered by his brethren, as an 
 oracle. This gentleman heard me ; conversed with me ; and discovered, 
 that my testimony was not in unison with the teaching, to which he had 
 listened. He became sedulously intent upon detecting my errors, and 
 he soon discovered I was wrong, and as soon, kindly endeavoured to 
 set me right ; but, as there was no other way of effectuating his wishes, 
 but by the word of God, for I refused all other authority, he was soon 
 convinced, upon searching the sacred writings for proofs of my heresy, 
 that it was he himself, who had wandered from that precious truth once 
 delivered to the saints. Without hesitation, he renounced his former 
 views, and continued ever after an abje, and zealous advocate for the 
 truth, preached by Abraham. It was now noised abroad, that I was an 
 erroneous teacher. The clergyman, who was so warmly attached to 
 me, while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now commenced a most 
 inveterate adversary ; and his opposition published more extensively 
 my name, and peculiar tenets. Curiosity was excited, and I became 
 the object of general inquiry. It is a melancholy truth, that esteem, 
 and consequent friendship, are not generally so operative upon the hu- 
 man mind, as rancour and enmity : my experience is in unison with 
 this observation. I hastened back to my calm retreat ; alas ! it was no 
 longer my peaceful home, for, although no change had taken place in 
 the house of my friend, yet the influence of my clerical enemy pursued 
 me. Opposition, however, begat opposition ; and, while I was hated 
 by the many, I was loved and caressed by the few. Solicitations to 
 preach were multiplied from every quarter, and, although there was no 
 abatement in the attachment of my patron, yet the estrangement of some 
 individuals, in our vicinity, diminished the difficulty of accepting invita- 
 tions, and I was induced to visit a few warm-hearted individuals, in the 
 neighbourhood of my implacable foe. Upon my arrival there, I disco- 
 vered a want, of which I had not until then been conscious : I wanted 
 a horse. A single hint was sufficient ; a horse \\TIS immediately pro- 
 cured, and, so ardent was the affection of inv fidhorents, that I could 
 
142 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 not express a wish, which they were not eager to gratify ; but my wish- 
 es were very much bounded, and my wants few and simple. 
 
 An invitation from Philadelphia being frequently, and earnestly re- 
 peated, I repaired to that city ; a respectable circle of friends awaited 
 me there. The Baptist minister invited me to his house, and his pulpit. 
 He questioned me in private, and, in the course of our conversation, he 
 frequently repeated : " Christ, in us, the hope of glory " 1 ventured to 
 ask, Pray, sir, what do you understand by Christ, in us,the hope of glo- 
 ry ? " Why, sir, in looking into my heart, I find something in it, which 
 I had not some years ago." Do you, sir, call this something, Christ ? 
 " Undoubtedly." But, sir, all the angels of God worship Christ ; all 
 the ends of the earth are admonished to look unto Christ, and be saved : 
 we are exhorted to trust in him at all times; and to believe, that there is 
 no other name given under heaven, among men, whereby we can be 
 saved. Now, my good sir, suffer me to ask, would it be safe for an- 
 gels in heaven, or men upon earth, to worship that something,you have 
 in your heart, which you had not there some years ago ? would it be 
 safe for all the ends of the earth, or any of the inhabitants of the world, 
 to look to that something for salvation 1 could I, or any other person, 
 trust, at all times, to that something ? " Then, sir, if this be not Christ, 
 what can the passage I have cited mean ?" Certainly, sir, this cannot 
 be the Christ, Paul preached. The Christ, Paul preached, was crucified ; 
 he was buried ; he arose ; he ascended ; and the heavens must contain 
 him, until the time of the restitution of all things. " But how then is 
 it, that this Christ can be in us the hope of glory ?" Why, sir, the Chris- 
 tian has no other hope of glory, than Jesus Christ, entered within the 
 vail ; and this Saviour is, in his heart,the object of his tnist,confde7ice, 
 and affection. You have, sir, as I understand, a beloved wife in Europe ; 
 but, although the Western ocean rolls between you, yet you may say, 
 she is ever in your heart, and no one would be at a loss to understand 
 you ; but if you were to tell them, your conjugal affection was your 
 wife, they would stare at you : and yet it \*j6uld be as proper to say, 
 your conjugal affection was your wife, as to say your love to God, or 
 any other good, and proper propensity, was your Christ. No, my dear 
 sir, these are not that Christ, the things of which, the Spirit of truth 
 taketh, and showeththem to men, as the matter of their rejoicing. The 
 Christ, of whom you speak, can be no other than the false Christ; that is, 
 something which is called Christ, but is not Christ. The Christ, of 
 whom you speak, as your hope of glory, was never seen by any body, 
 and is itself nobody. It neither suffered for your sins, nor rose for 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 143 
 
 your justification ; and it is therefore most unworthy to be had in rever- 
 ence. This conversation, as may be supposed, made this gentleman 
 exceeding angry ; and I was not a little surprised to hear him, although 
 he immediately broke up the conference, insist upon my coming the 
 ensuing day (Sunday), according to promise, to preach in his pulpit. 
 The intelligence ran through the city, that I was to preach in the Bap- 
 tist meeting-house, and numbers flocked to hear. I came, I entered 
 the parlour of the Rev. gentleman ; many of the members of his church 
 were present, and a young candidate for the ministry. The gentleman, 
 who invited me, and who repeated his invitation on parting with me, 
 arose, and throwing upon me a most indignant glance, took the young 
 gentleman by the hand, and led him into the meeting-house, which 
 was adjoining to his dwelling, leaving me standing in his parlour. I 
 now perceived, why he had insisted upon my coming to preach for him. 
 But it was not wonderful ; I had spoken contemptibly of his Christ, 
 and he took rank among my inveterate foes ; yet I had, among his 
 connexions, a few friends, who, indignant at the treatment I had receiv- 
 ed, redoubled their caresses. There was at this time a small company 
 who assembled at a place, known by the name of Bachelor's-Hall ; they 
 were unacquainted with the truth I delivered ; yet, willing to hear for 
 themselves, they invited me to preach for them. Halting between two 
 opinions, they solicited aid from a minister of another persuasion ; and 
 they requested me to hear him, to which I readily consented. The 
 preacher selected his text, " Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away 
 the sin of the world" He commenced his comment : " My friends, I 
 shall undertake to prove, that Jesus never did, nor never will take away 
 the sin of the world." I was astonished, and the persons, asking my 
 attendance, were abashed. The preacher added : " It is impossible 
 Christ can have taken away the sin of the world, for then all the world 
 must be saved." This w^s unquestionable ; I was exceedingly gratified, 
 and the more, as this sermon, intended for my confusion, did much to 
 establish that truth, of which, by the grace of God, I was a promulgator. 
 The combined efforts of the clergy in Philadelphia barred against 
 me the door of every house of public worship in the city. Bachelor's- 
 Hall was in Kensington. But at Bachelor's- Hall the people attended, 
 and a few were enabled to believe the good word of their God. There 
 was in the city, a minister of the Seventh-day Baptist persuasion ; for 
 a season he appeared attached to me, but soon became very virulent in 
 his opposition. He told me, he passed on foot nine miles, upon the re- 
 turn of every Saturday, to preach. I asked him, how many his con- 
 
144 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 gregation contained ? " About an hundred." How many of this 
 hundred do you suppose are elected to everlasting life ? "I cannot 
 tell/' Do you believe fifty are elected ? " Oh no, nor twenty." Ten 
 perhaps ? " There may be ten." Do you think the non-elect can 
 take any step to extricate themselves from the tremendous situation, in 
 which the decrees of heaven have placed them ? " Oil no, they might 
 as well attempt to pull the stars from the firmament of heaven." And 
 do you think your preaching can assist them ? " Certainly not ; every 
 sermon they hear will sink them deeper, and deeper in damnation." 
 And se, then, you walk nine miles every Saturday, to sink ninety per- 
 sons out of a hundred deeper and deeper in never-ending misery ! 
 
 Reports, injurious to my peace, were now very generally circulated ; 
 and although I expected all manner of evil would be said of me falsely, 
 for his sake, whose servant I was, yet did the shafts of slander possess 
 a deadly power, by which I was sorely wounded. Had the poisoned 
 weapon been aimed by characters, wicked in the common acceptation of 
 the word, it would have fallen harmless ; nay, the fire of their indig- 
 nation would have acted as a purifier of my name ; but reports, origin- 
 ating from those, who were deemed holy and reverend alas ! their 
 bite was mortal. Again I sighed for retirement, again I hastened to the 
 bosom of my patron, and again my reception Nvas most cordial. Yet, 
 although so much evil was said of me, many, glancing at the source, 
 made candid deductions, and were careful to proportion their acts of 
 kindness to the magnitude of my wrongs. Invitations met me upon 
 the road, and, wafted upon the wings of fame, I could enter no town, 
 or village, which my name had not reached ; in which I did not re- 
 ceive good, and evil treatment. The clergy and their connexions were 
 generally inveterate enemies ; while those, who had will and power to 
 act tor themselves, and chanced to be favourably impressed, were very 
 warm in their attachments. Thus my friends ^were very cordial, and 
 my enemies very malignant ; and, as my enemies were generally at a 
 distance, and my friends at my elbow, but for officious individuals, 
 who brought me intelligence of all they heard, I might have gone on 
 my way with abundant satisfaction. At Brunswick, which I had 
 been earnestly solicited to visit, I was received into a most worthy fam- 
 ily. The Rev. Mr. Dunham was of the Seventh-day Baptist persua- 
 sion; a man of real integrity, who, although he could not see, as I saw, 
 threw open the doors of his meeting-house ; conducted me into his pul- 
 pit ; and discharged toward me, in every particular, the duty of a Chris- 
 lian. His neighbour, a clergyman, who was a First-day Baptist, ex- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 145 
 
 hibited a complete contrast to Mr. Dunham. He invited me, it is true. 
 to his house ; asked me to lodge there ; we conversed together, prayed 
 together, he appeared very kind, and much pleased, and I believed him 
 my confirmed friend, until, leaving Brunswick, I called upon some, 
 whose deportment to me was the reverse of what it had heretofore been. 
 I demanded a reason ; when they frankly informed me, that the Rev. 
 
 Mr. had made such representations, as had destroyed all the 
 
 pleasure, they had been accustomed to derive from my presence. Thi? 
 affected me beyond expressiqn, a stranger as I was ; and, suffering in 
 the dread of what I had to expect, I turned from the door of those 
 deceived persons, without uttering a word. I quitted their habitations 
 forever ; invidious remarks were made upon my silence ; but of these 
 I was careless; on other occasions I might have been affected, but treach- 
 ery from a man, who had entertained me so hospitably, and who stood 
 so high in the ranks of piety, shocked me beyond the power of utterance. 
 Upon the afternoon of this day, on which I had been so deeply hurt, 
 I was engaged to deliver my peaceful message in the puipit of Mr. 
 Dunham, in the vicinity of this perfidious man. Some time had elap- 
 sed since I had seen him, and I then met him upon the road ; he ad- 
 vanced toward me with an extended hand, and a countenance expres- 
 sive of Christian affection : " You are a great stranger, sir." Yes, sir, 
 I am a stranger, and sojourner, in every place, as all my fathers were 
 before me. " Well, how have you been, since I saw you ?" Thanks 
 be to God, I have been preserved, and owned, and blessed, notwith- 
 standing the slanders of the adversary, and his agents. He saw he was 
 detected, and he determined immediately to drop the mask, " Well, I 
 will do all in my power to obstruct your progress, in every place." 
 Had you, sir, made this declaration at an earlier period, I should 
 at least have believed you an honest man. But to pass yourself upon 
 me as my friond, my sincere friend, while you were aiming at me a 
 vital stab ! Oh sir, 1 am astonished at you. " And I am more aston- 
 ished at you : do you not tremble, when you flunk, that God must 
 have a quarrel with you ? and that all His ministers in America hate 
 you ?" Sir, I do not believe my Creator is a quarrelsome Being, 
 neither do I credit the information, that all God's ministers hate me ; a 
 minister of God is incapable of hating any human being. " But are 
 you not con founded, when you consider, that ydu must be -right, and we 
 icrong : or you wrong, and all God's ministers right? Sureiy, it is more 
 probable we should bo all right, and you wrong, than you right, a v id we 
 11 wrong," I have no apprehensions upon this head ; some one might 
 
146 LIFE OF REY. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 have questioned, in the days of Elijah, when he was opposed by eight, 
 hundred and fifty prophets : " Do you not tremble to see all these holy, 
 and reverend priests on one side, and you done on the other ? either 
 they must be wrong, and you right, or you wrong, and they right." So 
 in Jerusalem, our divine Master might have been asked : " Are you not 
 appalled at beholding all the ministers of God, all the rulers of the peo- 
 ple, in opposition ? Either they must be wrong, and you right, or you 
 wrong, and they right; and which, pray, is the most probable ?" And 
 the people might have been asked : " Have any of our rulers believed 
 on him ? He is a Devil, and mad, why hear ye him ?" " I am as- 
 tonished at your daring blasphemy, in comparing yourself either to 
 Elijah, or Christ." Why, was not Elijah a man of like passions with 
 us ? and are we not taught to put on the Lord Jesus Christ ? Who 
 is it that asks, If they have called the Master of the house Beelzebub ? 
 what ought the servants of his household to expect ? Elijah is a mem- 
 ber in the same body with me ; but the Redeemer is still nearer ; He is 
 my head, the head of every man ; He indulges me with the privilege of 
 denying myself, my sinful self, and he allows me to acknowledge no 
 other than his blessed self; that, thus standing in his name, I may stand 
 in the presence of the Father, the Divinity, with exceeding joy ; that, 
 asking in the name of his immaculate humanity, I may be sure to re- 
 ceive, that my joy may be full. Nor can all that you, nor any one 
 else can say, be able to shake me from this my strong hold. " Ay, 
 perhaps you may be mistaken you may be deceived." If I am de- 
 ceived, I am deceived ; but I will venture. " You know this is net 
 the privilege of all, and therefore it may not be yours." I do not know* 
 that this is not the privilege of all ; but, if it be of any, it is of the be- 
 liever ; and, as I believe, it must be mine. They shall, said my divine 
 Master, say all manner of evil of you, falsely. You, sir, have been in 
 Brunswick, fulfilling this scripture ; and I rejoice, that I have made the 
 discovery. You, can rrever deceive me again ; but, as I am not nat- 
 urally suspicious, others may obtain a lease of my good opinion, from 
 which they will never, but upon the strongest conviction, be ejected. 
 I left this good man beyond measure enraged ; and, no doubt, believing 
 he should really render God service, by doing me the most essential 
 injury. I immediately repaired to the pulpit of my friend Dunham, 
 where, preaching peace, I recovered my lost serenity ; and it gladdened 
 my heart to believe, that the inveterate enemy, with whom I had parted 
 upon the road, was included in the redemption it was my business to 
 proclaim. 
 
1.IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 147 
 
 But now again, my heart failed me again I sickened at the pros- 
 pect before me, and my whole soul, revolting from a continuance in 
 public life, I once more fled to my beloved, my sequestered home. I 
 sighed ardently for my emancipation. Of that God, who was, in Christ, 
 reconciling the world unto himself, I entertained not the smallest dread. 
 But my coward spirit trembled before a combination of religious char- 
 acters, headed by the clergy, and armed for my destruction. Their zeal 
 was manifested by their industriously propagating a variety of evil re- 
 ports, I would detail them, were they not so numerous. And, although 
 all manner of evil had not yet been said of me, enough was said to im- 
 plant a dread of some overwhelming termination. Thus my aversion 
 to the path, into which I had been pressed, became more imposing. I 
 was ready to say, Lord, send, by whom thou wilt send, and, in mercy, 
 vouchsafe to grant me my final exit from those surrounding scenes, 
 which embosom the retirement of my friend. Often have I wept, as 
 I traversed the woods and groves of my patron, at the thought, that I 
 could not be indulged with the felicity of passing the remainder of my 
 days, amid those sylvan scenes ; especially as it was the wish of the 
 liberal master, that I should so do. I became apprehensive, that my 
 trials, in this new world, would surpass those, which I had encountered 
 in the old. These agonizing anticipations prostrated me before the 
 throne of the Almighty, imploring his protection ; and from this high 
 communication with my Father God, my griefs have been assuaged and 
 my wounded spirit healed. Urged by a strong sense of duty, I again 
 visited Upper Freehold, to which place I had been repeatedly summon- 
 ed. My acquaintance there was large and respectable, but it was the 
 residence of a high-priest, who treated me roughly. I was asked to 
 breakfast, at the house of one of his congregation, without the most 
 remote hint, that I was to meet this great man ; but I was hardly seat- 
 ed, when he was observed making his approaches ; and, from some 
 expressions of surprise, I was induced to believe he was totally unex- 
 pected. I was astonished to see so many assembled ; but supposed, 
 that curiosity to see the strange preacher, of as strange a doctrine, had 
 drawn them together. I was, however, afterwards assured, that 
 the plan had been previously concerted. Mr. Tennant enter- 
 ed. We were introduced to each other. He drew a chair into 
 the midst of the circle ; and, commanding into his countenance as 
 much stern severity, as he could collect, he commenced his stud- 
 ied operations. " I want to know, sir, by what authority you 
 presume to preach in this place ?" Pray, sir. by what authority do 
 
148 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 you thus presume to question me ? "I am, sir, placed here, Hy Al- 
 mighty God, to look after the affairs of his church, and people ; and I 
 have a right to insist on knowing who, and what you are ?" Well, sir, 
 if you be placed here, as the vicegerent of Heaven, you should take 
 care how you conduct ; you have a great charge, and your responsibil- 
 ity is proportioned to its magnitude. But, sir, I am not assuming ; I 
 have no design upon your people ; I am like a person in the time of 
 harvest, who steps into the field, and binds up some sheaves, making 
 no demand upon the proprietor of the grounds. I have never attempt- 
 ed to scatter your sheep, T have not even plucked a lock of their wool. 
 I do not wish to govern, I only aim at being a help. " I do not like 
 you a bit the better for all this stuff. I insist on knowing, whether you 
 came in at the door ?" I wish to know, sir, what door you mean ? 
 " I mean, the door of the church ; all, who come not in at that door, 
 are thieves and robbers." But, sir, I would know, what church you 
 mean ? The pope declares, there is no true church, save the one of 
 which he is the head. The Episcopal bishop affirms, there is no true 
 church, but that of which the king is the head. Do you, sir, mean ei- 
 ther of these ? " No, sir, I mean the true church. Did you come in 
 at that door ?" If, sir, you do not tell me, what you mean by the true 
 church, how can I answer you respecting the door ? " Sir, I will have 
 no evasions. Did you, or did you not, come in at the door ?" Jesus 
 Christ says : ' I am the door ; by me, if any man enter, he shall be sa- 
 ved.* Do you mean this door, sir ? " No, sir, I mean the door of 
 the church." Is not Jesus Christ the door of the church, sir ? " No, 
 sir." Well, sir, although there be many preachers, who have not en- 
 tered at this door, you will not, I trust, esteem a preacher the less, for 
 having the privilege to go in and out at this door. " Sir, I have noth- 
 ing to do with this ; I wish to know, whether you have church au- 
 thority for preaching ? that i v s, whether you came properly in at the 
 door ?" Sir, I have the same authority for preaching, which the apos- 
 tle Paul had ; he received his mission by the will of God, so have 
 I. " Ay, sir, give us the same miracles Paul wrought, and we will 
 believe you." If the power of working miracles were necessary to 
 prove a right to preach the gospel, perhaps you, sir, would be also at a 
 loss to prove your own right, either to preach, or thus to question a fellow 
 creature. " Sir, you are a deceitful, hypocritical man. If you had 
 come properly in at the door, I should have received you ; but you are 
 an impostor, I pronounce you an impostor." That is more than you 
 know, sir, and, I add, more than I know myself; but, if we cannot 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 149 
 
 .igree about the church, and the door, blessed be God ! we can agree 
 in one fundamental point : While we were yet sinners, Christ Jesus 
 died for us, and, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to 
 God by the death of his Son. The old gentleman started from his 
 seat, and, running round the apartment, exclaimed, in a loud and thun- 
 dering voice, to those, who were without : " Come in, and hear gibberish, 
 gibberish, gibberish." I was astonished, and when he had so far spent his 
 rage, as to remain for one moment silent, I looked full in his face, and 
 asked : Pray, sir, what language do you make use of ? Is it possible, 
 that you, a clergyman, highly distinguished, the head of the Presbytery, 
 and now in the evening of life, should be so little acquainted with the 
 scriptures, as to call the language of revelation, gibberish ? " You 
 know nothing about revelation ; there never v;as an individual of the 
 human race, that ever had any interest in Christ, or in God, until they 
 had repentance and faith." Pardon me, sir ; you do not believe this 
 yourself. " I say, I do." Excuse me, sir ; you certainly do not. 
 " Give me leave to tell you, you have a great deal of impudence, thus 
 to talk to me." Nay, sir, I do not wish to offend ; I wish you to re- 
 consider your assertion ; I am confident, you do not believe it ; and I 
 am confident, you will have the goodness to own it, before I quit 
 this apartment. " Let me tell you, young man, you have the greatest 
 stock of assurance, I have ever met with in any young person. I tell 
 you again, there never was an individual of the human race, who left 
 this world without faith and repentance, who ever had any interest in 
 Christ, or ever tasted happiness." Not one ? " No, sir, not one." 
 Oh ! sir, 1 am sorry you compel mo to make you retract this ail'irma- 
 tion. Turning to the company, he required them to say, whether they 
 did not think my insolence surpassed credibility ? The company were 
 silent, and, after a pause, I said : I know, sir, if you believe Calvinistic 
 principles, you believe some infants may be eternally lost ; but no Cal- 
 vinist denies, that some infants are interested in Christ, and eternally 
 blessed, although they passed out of time, without repentance or faith. 
 " Sir, I never thought of infants." So I imagined ; and it was there- 
 fore, sir, I took the liberty to say, you did not believe what you advan- 
 ced. " But I believe it with respect to all, besides infants." No, sir, 
 pardon me, you do not. Again he was exceeding angry, until I men- 
 tioned idiots. '* I did not think of idiots." I believe, you did not : 
 but, my good sir, would it not be cs well, if you wore always to think, 
 before you speak ? " Again I say, I am astonished at your impudence : 
 T mnld not have. behVved a youn.fr man, like yo,u. could }K.I\<> .hru! . ; :o 
 
150 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 much impudence." I dare say, sir, you are disappointed ; you expect- 
 ed to have met a timid, poor, destitute stranger, who would have been 
 confounded by noise, and such c"ogent arguments, as gibberish, gibber- 
 ish, repeatedly vociferated ; you expected, I should not have dared to 
 utter a syllable ; you have been pleased to treat me very roughly ; you 
 know not, but you have been pouring vinegar into wounds already sore ; 
 you have, sir, been vexing the stranger ; and without any provocation 
 on my part. " Ay, ay, this is the language of all impostors." 
 
 Thus ended my morning repast. I was very much hurt ; yet I reap- 
 ed advantage from this new trial. Returning to my lodgings, I expe- 
 rienced the most painful sensations ; but the rebuff', I had received, op<fc- 
 rated as usual, it drew me nearer to my God, and, pouring out my heart 
 in secret before the Father of my spirit, I obtained, what the favour of 
 the clergy could never give consolation and peace in believing. 
 
 My conduct at this breakfasting conference was represented in such 
 a point of view, as increased the number of my friends ; and clerical 
 gentlemen, in this place and its environs, forebore direct attacks ; but 
 the tongue of the private slanderer was busily employed. A gentleman 
 
 of C -,the Rev. Mr.S , repeatedly attended my public labours ; 
 
 addressed me after preaching, continued some time ill conversation with 
 me, and appointed a day, on which he pressed me to dine with him. 
 I accepted his politeness with gratitude, and was punctual to the time. 
 
 Mr. S received me with manifest satisfaction ; we were alone, 
 
 and we passed many hours most pleasantly,, Mr. S seemed so- 
 licitous, that I should view him, neither as a skeptic, nor a caviller, but 
 simply an inquirer after truth. He asked me many questions, which 
 I answered as clearly, as I was able ; and he appeared sometimes sati^l 
 fied, sometimes dissatisfied, and sometimes silenced. Upon the whole, 
 his deportment was gentlemanly, and I could not forbear regarding 
 him, as a sensible, illumined Christian. On my departure he urged me 
 
 to consider his house my home, whenever I visited C ; waited on 
 
 me while I mounted my horse, pressed my hand, and, with much ap- 
 parent devotion, supplicated the blessing of heaven upon me. On re- 
 curring to my journal, I find my notice of this interview, concluded as 
 follows : Thus far am I brought on my way rejoicing ; the Lord is 
 my Sun and Shield, blessed be the name of my Gcd ! Yet no sooner 
 
 was I out of view, than this same Mr. S ordered his horse, and 
 
 posting to every respectable family in his parish, informed them, that, 
 with all my cunning, he had outwitted me ; that he had asked me to 
 dine, and, by flattery and caresses, had thrown me off my guard, and 
 
LlFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 151 
 
 obtained a complete knowledge of my principles. " Well, dear sir, 
 and what are his principles ?" O ! truly shocking 1 horrid ! most 
 horrid ! I dare not relate them, you shall not be contaminated by the 
 recital ; it would be dangerous in the extreme. Nor was this enough. 
 Being a member of the Presbytery, he wrote a circular letter, addressing 
 every leading associate, which effectually steeled all hearts, and, so far 
 as his influence extended, barred every door against me. Calumnies of 
 various descriptions were disseminated ; rancour became uncommonly 
 prolific ; astonishing efforts were made to destroy my reputation ; 
 but God was with me, and his spirit was my never- failing support. In 
 the midst of these fiery trials, I passed on : succeeding weeks and 
 months rolled away, while my days were appropriated to my beloved 
 home, to different parts of the Jersies, Philadelphia, New-York, and 
 many of the intervening towns, scattered between those cities. 
 
 In the commencement of the Autumn, of 1773, I was strongly in- 
 duced to journey as far as Newport, in Rhode-Island; and having 
 dropped a tear, at parting with my faithful friend, I commended him to 
 the care of heaven, and began my new tour of duty. The chilly morn- 
 ings and evenings, of even the first autumnal month, gave me to expe- 
 rience the w r ant of'-an- outside garment. I was, however, determined 
 not to solicit human aid ; this, I believed, would be taking the business 
 out of the hand of my Master. If God had sent me, he would put it 
 into the hearts of his people to supply me ; yet I did not calculate, that 
 this want would be supplied, until I reached New- York. I believed I 
 had in that city a friend, who would derive pleasure from administering 
 to my necessities. But when I was preparing to leave Brunswick, a 
 person entered the parlour, displayed a number of patterns, requested I 
 would make a choice for a greatcoat ; and asked, how long I should 
 tarry in town ? I told him, I should leave town early on the succeeding 
 morning : " Well, sir," he returned, " your coat shall be ready." I 
 asked, by whom he was sent ? " Sir, I was ordered not to say by 
 whom." It is very well, I know who sent you. " Do you, sir ?" Yes, 
 sir, it was God, my Father; who, having all hearts in his hand, has 
 stimulated your employer. Early the following morning, the coat was 
 brought home ; I was deeply affected, and laying my hand upon it, 
 I said : Henceforward thou shall be my monitor ; whenever I feel my 
 heart desponding, in silent, but persuasive language, thou shalt say : 
 " Cast thy care upon God, for he careth for thee." It was not so much 
 the supply of this pressing want, that pleased me, as the recognition of 
 t lie immediate hand of paternal Deity, who thus vouchsafed to own, 
 
152 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and bless my mission. On my arrival in New- York, I learned, to rny 
 great astonishment, that the friend, on whom my hopes of a winter gar- 
 ment had rested, was become my enemy ! I was greatly pained, he was 
 very dear to me ; but a religious slanderer had been at his ear, and had 
 prejudiced him against me. I lost him forever alas ! alas ! how many 
 such losseshave I sustained, since I became a promulgator of the truth, 
 as it is in Jesus. 
 
 Leaving New- York, I postponed my journey to Newport, passed 
 through East Jersey, and stopped at Amboy, where I had many friends. 
 Sitting one evening at tea with a lady, she complained, that her maid 
 had quitted her, having been seduced from her duty, by a foot soldier. 
 This immediately reminded me of Mrs. Trinbath, the poor unhappy 
 lady, at whose house, in Cork, I had, in company with Mr. Whitefield, 
 and others, been so splendidly entertained. I related the mournful tale, 
 when the lady assured me, she knew the unhappy creature ; she had 
 seen her in Amboy, and that she was now in Now- York, in a most 
 wretched situation. 1 immediately conceived a hope, that, if I could 
 obtain an interviexv with her, I might prevail upon her to return to her 
 widowed mother, and to her children ; and although her husband was 
 no more, she might yet, in some measure, retridjjpthe past. Alas ! 
 ai;is ! 1 did not calculate, that I was thus making provision for the most 
 serious calamity, which, during my sojournjn this new world, had un- 
 til then overtaken me. The following day, intent on my purpose, I 
 took passage in the packet, for New- York ; accompanied by the ser- 
 jeant-major of the regiment, to which the fellow belonged, with whom 
 this deluded woman lived. I asked him, if he knew such a person .' 
 Yes, he knew her, and she was in a very wretched condition. I sighecf 1 
 from the inmost recesses of my soul, while I listened to his account of 
 her manner of living. I begged to know, if I could see her. Yes, he 
 could conduct me to her abode ; but on our arrival, passing over the 
 common, near the gaol, to the residence of this poor creature, we 
 chanced to meet her infamous seducer, who, not having heard of the 
 death of Mr. Trinbath, immediately concluded I was that injured hus- 
 band, come to reclaim my wretched wanderer. Under this impression, 
 he hastened home, and effectually secreted her, before we reached the 
 door. I was disappointed, but I informed a poor creature in the house, 
 that I would call, upon the ensuing day, at one o'clock, when I hoped 
 1 might obtain an interview. I was, the next day, punctual to the 
 appointment:; but, instead of the misguided woman, 1 recei veil a letter, 
 directed to Mr. Trinbath., entreating most earnestly, that I would not 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY- 153 
 
 attempt to see her ; that, after treating- me as she had done, she never 
 would see me more ; and that, if I persisted in pursuing her, she would 
 leave the city, and, taking with her her miserable children, they would all 
 perish together, for she would, rather than meet my eye, suffer a thousand 
 deaths. T was beyond measure shocked at this letter ; I saw the abso- 
 lute necessity of seeing and convincing her of her error ; but how was 
 this to be effectuated ? I could devise no plan. I told the old woman, 
 it was a most capital mistake ; that I was not the person she supposed. 
 O, said she, you need say nothing about that, sir ; every body knows 
 you are her husband, and every body pities you, poor gentleman, that 
 you should have such a wife ; but she has bad advisers, and I dare say, 
 if you can see her and forgive her, (and every body says, if you did not 
 intend to do so, you would never have sought her,) she will again be 
 a very good woman. I was provoked beyond endurance ; but every 
 appearance of irritation was imputed to my disappointment, and con- 
 sequent resentment. My soul was harrowed up by agonizing distress ; 
 unable to convince the old woman, I returned to my lodgings. My 
 friends perceived the anguish of my spirit, for which they were well 
 able to account ; they, however, carefully avoided the subject. At last, 
 not being able to control my emotions, I burst into tears. They were 
 alarmed. " What is the matter ?" I circumstantially related the whole 
 story, and dwelt upon my sufferings, consequent upon my inability to 
 see Mrs. Trinbath, and convince her of her mistake. My friends ap- 
 peared relieved, and proposed my writing to her, and leaving my letter 
 at her lodgings ; she will see it is not the hand-writing of her husband. 
 The propriety of this measure was obvious ; I asked the gentleman, if 
 he would accompany me? " Most gladly." I wrote immediately, 
 labouring to convince this unfortunate woman of her error, and assuring 
 her, that my friend, Mr. Trinbath, had been many years dead ; that if 
 she would but give me a meeting, for a single moment, she would ac- 
 knowledge, she had nothing to fear from me. This letter was ineffectu- 
 al ; she was positive it was all a deception, and that, with a view of de- 
 ceiving her, I had em ployed some other pen. 
 
 This story was a sweet morsel to mv religious foes. It was painted 
 in the most odious colours, and industriously exhibited. They declar- 
 ed, the woman was unquestionably my wife ; and that, on account of the 
 treatment she had received from her barbarous husband, she had pre- 
 ferred putting herself uador the protection oi a commom soldier ; that 
 she had attended church, upon a lecture evening, and upon seeing me, 
 h^r husband, in the pulpit, she had shrieked aloud, and fainted. This, 
 
154 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and a thousand other falsehoods, were circulating, through the city, 
 My humane friends, at length, interfered ; they solicited the commanding 
 officer to oblige the fellow, with whom the woman lived, to produce 
 her; she approached with dread apprehension; a large company was 
 collected, spectators of the scene. She caught a glance, and exclaiming, 
 in a tremulous accent, It is, it is he immediately fainted. Curiosity, 
 and humanity, combined to recover her ; she was led into the parlour. 
 I appeared full before her, entreating her to take a view of my face ; she 
 did so, and no words can express her confusion ; her acknowledgments 
 were repeated and copious ; she did not recollect, ever to have seen me 
 before. I was most happy in the result of this untoward business, which 
 had nearly annihilated my anxiety respecting her restoration to her con- 
 nexions. Indeed I was assured, no entreaties would procure her return 
 to Cork. So many had witnessed an ecclaircissement, so honourable 
 to me, that I fondly believed it would be attached to the narration ; but 
 alas ! there was not a thousandth part of the pains taken to publish the 
 truth, as had been taken to spread far and wide the slander ; here it 
 was the still voice of friendship ; there it was Slander with her thousand 
 tongues. None but God can tell, how much I have suffered, from the 
 various trials, I have encountered. Again, I mournfully acknowledged, 
 that my object in coming to America was not in any view obtained ; 
 that my grand desideratum appeared further and further from my reach ; 
 again I wished most ardently to be in England ; yea, in the very scenes 
 from which I had escaped, if I might thus be delivered, from the dis- 
 tracted situation, in which I was involved ; and the more I contemplated 
 the indignation, and power, of the clergy, the more frequently I ex- 
 claimed, Doubtless I shall one day perish by the hand of my enemy. 
 Yet, in the darkest night of my affliction, my gracious God frequently 
 vouchsafed to grant me peace, and joy, in believing that His almighty 
 power was sufficient for me ; and, in the pulpit, whatever was my pre- 
 vious situation, either mental, or corporeal, when engaged in the inves- 
 tigation of divine truth, I was not only tranquil, but happy : And this 
 happiness I often enjoyed ; for an ardent curiosity obliged the people 
 every where to hear ; and, when a pulpit could aot be obtained, a private 
 house, a court-house, a wood, answered the purpose ; and I rejoiced, 
 while contemplating the irradiations of divine truth, bursting through 
 the dark clouds of prejudice, and with such imposing splendor, as could 
 only be effectuated by Omnipotent power. 
 
 I nvrivod frequent and most pressing invitations to visit New-Eng- 
 land. During my residence in New-York, I became known to many 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 155 
 
 gentlemen of Connecticut ; and I was requested to stop, and deliver my 
 testimony in various places, along the road. I resumed my purpose of 
 visiting Newport, determining- to proceed thither with all possible dis- 
 patch. I had, however, promised to stop at a friend's house, in Milford, 
 and at another's, in Guilford ; at which places I preached to very large 
 congregations ; several strangers, having seen me elsewhere, recognised 
 me, and entreated me to accompany them to their respective homes ; 
 but my object was Newport. Many individuals, from Norwich, de- 
 parted from Guilford with me ; they gave me to understand, that, hav- 
 ing made part of my audience, on the preceding evening, they were 
 extremely desirous I should proceed with them to Norwich. We pass- 
 ed the day very agreeably together, conversing with great freedom. 
 About sunset, we reached New-London, where it was my resolution 
 to bid my new associates adieu .; but they so earnestly importuned me 
 to go on, one gentleman in particular, that, accepting his proffered 
 kindness, I was that night lodged in his hospitable dwelling. He soon 
 became, and ever after continued, my steadfast friend. Many, in Nor- 
 wich, received me with great kindness ; a house of worship was pro- 
 vided ; but it not being sufficiently spacious, the doors of the great meet- 
 ing-house were thrown open, and. never afterwards shut against me. 
 Thus, in this instance, the zeal of the people has been sufficiently im- 
 posing, to prevail against ministerial opposition. The friends I ob- 
 tained, in Norwich, were, in truth, inestimable ; some individuals are 
 not yet called home ; they remain unwavering in the belief of the truth^ 
 as it is in Jesus ; and in their affectionate attachment to its feeble advo- 
 cate. At Norwich, I was solicited to preach in the meeting-house of 
 Mr. Hart, of Preston ; to which place many of my new friends ac- 
 companied me. Having passed the night at Preston, on the succeed- 
 ing morning, I re-commenced my journey, with the Rev. Mr. H ,* 
 
 of Newport. The distance was between 30 and 40 miles ; but as Mr, 
 
 H was going Aowie, he would not stop to dine on the road. In. 
 
 the course of the day, Mr. H thus questioned me : " Well, sir, 1 
 
 suppose you will preach in Newport ?" Very likely, sir. " You have 
 friends there, I presume ?" No, sir, I do not know a single soul 
 " You have letters of recommendation, perhaps ?" Not a line, sir. 
 " Where then do you intend to go, and what do you intend to do T 
 I have laid no plans, sir. " I promise you, you shall not preach in my 
 
 * Nearly the whole of this conversation was published in the first volume, Lei- 
 ter Fourth, of " Letters, and Sketches of Sermons." Instead of the letter A. <h* 
 letter H...., which was the original and true initial, is now substituted 
 
I ;j() LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 meeting." I should be very much surprised, if I did, sir. " And I 
 suppose, you think you are called of God, to go to Newport ?" I think 
 it is not unlikely, sir. " I believe, you will find yourself mistaken." 
 It is possible. " Suppose you should find no place to preach in, what 
 would you do then ?" Devote myself to private conversation. " But, 
 suppose you could find no one to converse with ?" Then I would 
 turn about, and come back again. " But what would you think oi 
 your faith ?" Call it fancy. But at present, I think I shall preach the 
 gospel in Newport ; and, although I am an utter stranger, knowing no 
 one, nor known by any one ; yet I expect, before I leave the place, to 
 have many friends. " Ay, these are fine fancies, fine fancies indeed." 
 Had you not better suspend your decision, until you witness the result? 
 will it not then be full time to determine, whether it be faith, or fane </ '. 
 " If it should not be, as I predict, I should not be ashamed to own my 
 error ; if it should, you ought to blush for your unwarrantable confi- 
 dence. But, as it is not impossible, you may preach in that city, and 
 that some of my people may be among the number of your hearers, 
 I think I have a right to question you." If God will give me leave 
 to preach to his people, I am content. " What do you mean by that, 
 sir ?" Your observation brought to my mind, what, on a certain occa- 
 sion, a very distinguished servant of God said to his master, when he 
 was told to go down and see what his people were doing. O lord, 
 they are not my people, they are thy people. However, Moses was not 
 settled on your plan. " Well, sir, I look upon my people to be God's 
 people." You are perfectly right, sir, so indeed they are ; and if 1 
 speak to them at all, I shall speak to them, in that character. " Well, 
 sir, as you call yourself a preacher of the gospel, and may, as I have 
 said, preach to my people ; it is proper I should know what ideas you 
 have of gospel. Tell me, sir, what is gospel ?" I am happy in be- 
 ing able to give you a direct answer. The gospel, sir, is a solemn de- 
 claration, given upon the oath of Jehovah, that, w the Seed of Abraham, 
 all the nations of the earth should be blessed. " Is that all you know of 
 gospel ?" Would it not, my good sir, require a very long time to in- 
 form mankind, who, and ichat, that Seed is ; how, and in what manner 
 all the nations of the earth are, and shaft be blessed therein ; and what 
 blessings they are blessed with, hi Christ Jesus ? The apostle Paul, 
 although he laboured more abundantly, than his brethren, found this 
 vast, this important subject, abundantly sufficient for his whole life ; 
 and those, who are blessed in that Seed, will find the contemplation of 
 that blessedness, which thev shall be blessed with, in Him, sufficient to 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 157 
 
 furnish a song, which, although never ending, will be ever new. " If 
 such be your views, you know nothing at all of gospel." You could 
 not so absolutely determine this matter, if you yourself were not ac- 
 quainted with the meaning of the term, gospel. Tell me then, sir, if 
 you please, what is gospel ? " Why, sir, this is gospel : He, that be- 
 lieveth, shall be saved, and he, that believeth not, shall be damned/' 
 Indeed, sir, I had thought, the literal, simple meaning of the term gos- 
 pel was, glad tidings. Which part of the passage, you have cited, is 
 gospel, that which announces salvation, or that which announces c?m- 
 nation ? " Well then, if you please, this is gospel : He, that believeth, 
 shall be saved." Believeth what, sir ? " That." What, sir ? " That, 
 I tell you." What, sir ? " That, I tell you : He, that believeth, shall 
 be saved." Believeth what, sir ? What is he to believe ? " Why 
 that, 1 tell you." I wished, sir, to treat this investigation seriously ; 
 but, as you seem to be disposed to be rather ludicrous, we will, if you 
 please, dismiss the subject. " No, sir, I do not mean to be ludicrous ; 
 I am very serious." Well, sir, if so, then I beg leave to ask, what is it 
 I am to believe ; the believing of which, will save me ? " That Jesus 
 Christ made it possible for sinners to be saved." By what means ? 
 " By believing." Believing what ? " That." What ? " That Jesus 
 Christ made it possible for sinners to be saved." By what means is it 
 possible sinners may be saved ? " By believing, I tell you." But the 
 devils believe ; will their believing save them ? " No, sir." Suppose 
 I believe, that Jesus Christ made it possible to save sinners ; will that 
 save me ? " No, sir." Then, sir, let me ask, what am I to believe, 
 the believing of which will save me ? " Why, sir, you must believe 
 the gospel, that Jesus made it possible for sinners to be saved." But 
 by what means? " By believing." Believing what ? " That, I tell you." 
 
 Mr. H could not but be conscious the ground he had taken 
 
 was untenable. Had he answered in scripture language, that the truth 
 to be believed, and which we make God a liar by not believing, was, 
 that Christ had given himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due 
 time, ; that he had absolutely tasted death for every man ; and that eve-ay 
 man should be made alive in Christ Jesus, &c. &c. the inference was 
 unavoidable, nor man, nor devil could undo, what God had done ; the 
 power exists not, which can set aside the decrees of God. If the Re- 
 deemer did not taste death for all; if He has not purchased all; then those, 
 for whom Ho has not tasted death, whom He has not purchased, have 
 110 right to believe He has; and were they so to believe, they must indu- 
 bitably believe a lie. But, finding the tamper of Mr. II rise high- 
 
158 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 er and higher, every time I repeated my question ; I endeavoured to 
 bring the matter to a conclusion, by observing, that I was astonished to 
 find a master in Israel, and a writer too, either not able, or not willing, 
 to answer a simple question, viz. what I am to believe is the foundation 
 of my salvation 1 what I am to believe procures my justification in the 
 sight of God ? " And I am astonished at your blasphemy." This is 
 in character, sir ; men of your description were long since fond of fixing 
 this charge on both the Master, and his witnesses ; but, remember, sir, 
 
 if I have blasphemed, it is only Mr. H , whom I have blasphemed. 
 
 " Well, sir, I believe I have gone too far ; I will, if you please, take 
 back the charge." With all my heart, sir. " I do not doubt, you may 
 be admired in Newport a whole fortnight." That no doubt will be 
 fourteen days longer, than you would wish. Arriving in sight of New- 
 port, Mr. H said : " There, sir, is my meeting-house ; at a little 
 
 distance from thence is my dwelling-house, and my friends are mulit- 
 plied." Well, sir, I have no home, meeting-house, nor friend, in New- 
 port. Yet, I repeat, before I leave that city, I expect to have more 
 than one home, and many friends. " Well, now I think of it, there is 
 one man, who has a little place, in which, possibly, you may get leave to 
 preach ; I will direct you to a man, who has some acquaintance with 
 him." I will thank you, sir, to inform me where my horse may be 
 taken care of ; for myself, I have little concern. " I promise you, horse- 
 keeping is very high in Newport." That, sir, is very sad tidings to me, 
 for I promise you, my finances are very low. Some very bitter 
 speeches were made ; and I regretted, that I was so unfortunate, as to 
 
 have taken the journey with Mr. H . Your people, said I, are 
 
 leavened with the leaven of the Pharisees, and you seem to be leavened 
 with the leaven of Herod. " What do you mean by the leaven of 
 Herod ?" I mean the nature of Herod. " How does that apply ?" 
 Some persons urged our Master to fly, in consequence of Herod's seek- 
 ing his life. Go, said He, tell that fox, I work to-day and to-morrow, 
 &c. &c. Our Master denominated Herod a fox, for the purpose of 
 giving an idea of his nature. What is a fox ? i a creature that lives upon 
 the spoil ; but he is dependent upon the secrecy of the night, and, we 
 are told, in order the more effectually to cover his designs, he sometimes 
 imitates the w r atch-dog, thus endeavouring to make it appear, he is de- 
 fending the property of the husbandman, while, under the guise of 
 watchful care for others, he is covertly acting for himself, till the morn- 
 ing dawns, till the light appears, and then his labour ends. This is the 
 leaven of Herod, and it was of the nature of this insidious animal, that 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 159 
 
 our Lord cautioned his disciples to beware. " Well, there is something- 
 ingenious in that, I confess." We reached the ferry a little before sun- 
 set, and on landing at Newport : " There," said Mr. H , pointing 
 
 to a small shop, " If you will call on that man, he will give you direc- 
 tiop." I walked on, stopped at the door, and holding the bridle in my 
 hand, asked the man behind the counter, if he would be so obliging as 
 to inform me, which was the best inn for keeping horses ? " Please to 
 walk in, sir." I fastened my horse and entered the shop, and seeing the 
 man look very gloomy, and hearing him sigh very bitterly, I concluded 
 he must be under the pressure of some heavy calamity ; and, as no 
 woman appeared, I suspected the poor fellow must have lost his wife, 
 and my sympathies were very powerfully excited. I was, however, 
 solicitous about my horse, and again requested the requisite informa- 
 tion. " Do not make yourself uneasy, sir, my little boy will be here 
 in a few moments, when I will send him with your horse, and you will 
 be so obliging as to tarry here, and drink tea ; my wife is out of town, 
 and of course things will not be so well, as if she were here." I was 
 very much relieved by this intelligence, and sat down. " How far have 
 you travelled to-day, sir ?" From Preston, in Connecticut, sir. " Did 
 
 you come alone, sir ?" No, sir, I came in company with a Mr. H , 
 
 one of your Teachers ; I parted with him at the ferry. " Did he not 
 ask you to his house ?" No, sir. " Well, sir, I hope you will believe, 
 there is not another man in this town, who would have been so defi- 
 cient ; you must, however, tarry here to-night, and we will take especial 
 care of your horse." You are very obliging, sir ; but I had rather, if 
 you please, attend to my horse myself. " Will you, sir, be so good, as 
 to leave this matter to me, and take some refreshment yourself ? You 
 are a public character, and I have been accustomed to attend to public 
 characters." How do you know I am a public character ? there is no- 
 thing in my appearance, which indicates it. " The moment you came 
 to my door, it seemed as if some one had said, The person who addres- 
 ses you is a preacher ; take kind notice of him ; and I immediately deter- 
 mined to obey the impulse." This instance of providential care nearly 
 overpowered me, I was the more affected by this bright manifestation, 
 as it closed a very dark day. It spoke, to my wounded mind, the lan- 
 guage of assurance ; my Divine Master was with me, and had prepared 
 the heart of this man to receive me, and this soothing consideration 
 gave me inexpressible pleasure. Had I been in a clerical dress, or had 
 the smallest vestige of those habiliments been discernible, I should have 
 believed those externals had produced their effect. But, divested as I 
 
160 LIFE OF WEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 was, of every thing which could speak to the eye, I could not but 
 greatly rejoice in this instance of recognising goodness, and my full 
 soul glowed with fervent and devotional gratitude. My cup of tea wag 
 mingled with my tears ; but they were tears of joy, of sacred rapture. 
 It was like the priest leaving me, and the good Samaritan taking me up; 
 and the oil and wine, thus poured into my lacerated bosom, was most 
 salutary, truly refreshing. 
 
 My kind host summoned a number of his friends to pass the even- 
 ing ; they all appeared very gloomy, and I had sympathy for their 
 situation. After being introduced, they continued for some time silent, 
 and sighed in their turns very bitterly. Those sighs, however, al- 
 though signs, were not proofs, of sorrow ; it was the custom for vei~y 
 religious people to be very melancholy, and these were very religious 
 people ; so much so, that I afterwards discovered, there was no society 
 in town, with which they could conscientiously associate. It was pro- 
 posed, I should narrate my experiences, that they might judge if I were 
 a child of God. I very readily accommodated myself to their wishes, 
 and gave them a sketch of some memorable scenes in my life. When 
 I closed, a profound silence, interrupted only by sighs, succeeded ; at 
 last, one affirmed, I was not a child of God, my experiences were not 
 of the true kind, he could not go with me ; a second pronounced, I was 
 a child of God, for he felt me, as I proceeded. Being thus divided, 
 they knew not on what to determine ; at last, it was proposed to ap- 
 ply to Mr. D for his meeting-house. This was the very place, 
 
 pointed out by Mr. H . I knew his design was to ruin me, and 
 
 therefore, without hesitation, I said I did not feel a freedom to speak in 
 the proposed place. Well, would I preach in the room, in which we 
 were sitting ; many had so done, and why not me ? This also I re- 
 jected, it was too much confined. They pronounced me very difficult ; 
 they did not believe, I should find any other place. I assured them, I 
 was not anxious in this respect. If God had sent me, he would pro- 
 vide a place for me ; if he had not, I was willing to return, whence I 
 came. " Perhaps God has provided you a place, by directing us to 
 make these offers." No, sir, if God had directed you to make these 
 offers, and had thought proper I should deliver my message in either 
 of the places mentioned, he would have disposed my heart to embrace 
 them ; but this I feel He has not done. They pronounced me very 
 odd, and took their leave ; but the master of the house, and one of his 
 friends, Conceiving there was something uncommon in me, my manner, 
 and my matter, continued with me in conversation the greater part of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. J6J 
 
 the night, and, although I had travelled all the day, yet I found no in- 
 convenience from this additional fatigue. 
 
 After breakfast, on the ensuing day, I walked round the town, and 
 was much pleased with its situation ; its harbour, .and perspective views, 
 delighted me, and, although a stranger, with only a few shillings in my 
 pocket, my bosom was as tranquil, as if in my own residence, and 
 master of thousands. Blessed be God ! I have never yet experienced 
 much solicitude about this world, or the gifts, which it has to bestow. 
 It never entered into my head, or heart, that I should not be supplied 
 with whatever was necessary for me ; I had fared hard, and I could 
 again accommodate myself to the vicissitudes of life- yea, and without 
 a murmur. I continued perambulating the streets, until the hour of 
 dining, when I returned to my lodgings. " Well, sir, the committee 
 
 of Doctor S 's meeting have been here, to engage you to supply 
 
 their pulpit to-morrow, Sunday, and they will call for your answer in 
 the evening." I was, I confess, astonished ; but the evening produced 
 the committee, and I acceded to their wishes. One of the gentlemen 
 pressed me to return with him, and take up my abode at his house, 
 during my continuance in Newport; I did so,and was soon domestica- 
 ted in his family, which continued my occasional home for many, very 
 
 many years. Doctor S was absent, and it was the business of the 
 
 committee to supply the desk, till his return ; my appearance was op- 
 portune, and the people were generally pleased. I was requested to 
 publish a lecture for the next day. I did so, and the congregation was 
 crowded, and attentive. I informed the audience, that I purposed 
 tarrying in Newport two weeks, during which time I was ready to 
 unite with them, in consulting the sacred writings, as often as they 
 pleased ; but if I delivered any more lectures, it must be in the evening; 
 my reason for which was, that there were many labouring persons, 
 who could not attend, without loss of time,- and loss of time, to them, 
 was loss of property. I was then informed, that when Mr. Whitefield 
 was last there, the parish had passed a vote against evening lectures. I 
 replied : The parish has an indubitable right to adhere to their vote ; 
 but they must excuse me, if I thought it my duty to abide by my de- 
 termination. The parish met, re-considered their vote, and requested 
 me to preach in the evening. Here then I preached, every evening, 
 until the Doctor's return ; to whom my kincj., honest host, requested 
 me to accompany him on a visit, insisting upon my promising, that I 
 would return with him. Simple man, because he, a hearer, was pleas- 
 ed, he conceived his minister would also be pleased, and that he would 
 
162 LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 press me to abide at his house ; I promised him, however, and he ex- 
 ulted in having gained his point. The Doctor received me with cool 
 civility ; asked me a great many questions ; spoke of my pulpit talents, 
 in the way I expected he would speak of them ; and finally expressed 
 regret, that he could not ask my assistance on the ensuing day, Sun- 
 day, as there were so many individuals, who would be offended. My 
 friend was astonished. I was not. My friend observed, there was 
 but one in the congregation, who was opposed to my preaching in their 
 meeting-house ; and, he added, if I did not preach, the people would be 
 greatly disappointed. The Doctor would not hear him, and we parted, 
 without my receiving even an invitation to repeat my call. My guile- 
 less host expressed great surprise. " So good a man as the Doctor ; 
 why, I imagined, he would have taken you into his arms, and never, if 
 he could help it, have permitted you to lodge any where, but under his 
 roof." From this moment, I had much to grieve me in Newport, for, 
 although my friends were numerous, and my enemies but few, yet those 
 few were uncommonly industrious. 
 
 On Monday morning, one of the committee, who had first engaged 
 me to preach, called upon me at my lodgings ; and informed me, there 
 came, on Saturday night, from New- York, a Reverend divine, who had 
 given me a most horrid character ; he had said many things, which he 
 hoped and believed were not true. Pray, sir, where is this good man ? 
 " He is, sir, at the house of Mr. Rogers, father of the Rev. Mr. Rog- 
 ers." Will you, sir, call upon this gentleman with me ? " Certainly, 
 sir, but you had better first take breakfast." By no means, I may 
 miss him, and I want to see him in your presence. We hurried off 
 immediately, but alas ! he had left town at break of day ; he had just 
 cast about firebrands, arrows, and death, and withdrawn from the in- 
 vestigation, upon which he had reason to calculate. The parade was 
 full of people ; the reports ran like wild fire ; fame had blown the trum- 
 pet of slander, and, at the house of Mr. Rogers, many were assembled. 
 I regretted, that the Rev. calumniator had flown ; I wished to be tried in 
 the presence of the people. I requested, however, that they would ex- 
 hibit the charges, that had been lodged against me. They did so, and 
 they consisted of the following items : 1st, I had formerly laboured 
 for my living ; 2dly, 1 was a married man ; 3dly, I had children ; 
 4thly, I had been a stage player ; and 5thly, I had sung songs. 
 Upon which I observed : Perhaps my denial of these charges may 
 answer little purpose ; yet, as in the presence of heaven, you will allow 
 me to say, that, although I have made some unsuccessful attempts to 
 
JJFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 163 
 
 obtain an honourable competency, yet I have, alas ! and it is with 
 extreme sorrow I make the declaration, I have, in this world, neither 
 wife, nor child ; I solemnly assure you, I never was an actor upon any 
 stage ; I acknowledge I have sung songs, I was once pronounced a 
 good singer ; yet I do not recollect, that I ever sang any bad songs, in- 
 deed I have been so long out of the habit of song-singing, that I do 
 not remember what songs I have sung. I do not, however, admit, that 
 if these charges could be substantiated, they ought to criminate me. It 
 cannot be a crime to labour ; " Six days shall thou labour" The 
 apostle Paul laboured with his own hands. Many of you are married 
 men ; many of you have children ; many, in pursuit of business, quit 
 for a season both wives and children ; and if I had relinquished the 
 stage for the life of a Religionist, it should be considered as a testimo- 
 ny in my favour. With regard to song-singing, while music makes a 
 part, even of divine worship, a sentimental song could not be supposed 
 detrimental to the interests of morality. I requested to know, if there 
 were any other charges ; and was answered with a murmur of applause, 
 " NONE, SIR, NONE." The tide now turned in my favour, and the peo- 
 ple were astonished, that they had annexed the smallest consequence to 
 those reports. 
 
 I had now in Newport a very respectable circle of friends, and the 
 occurrence, thus briefly recorded, augmented their affectionate attentions. 
 As a testimony how little they regarded it, they made a party to go 
 out in a number of carriages, and pass the day upon the island ; and 
 most delightfully did we enjoy ourselves. We left town in the midst 
 of the tumult ; but those, who were present at the examination, mingling 
 with their fellow citizens, gave them an account of what had passed, 
 and it was generally considered, as a plan to bar their pulpit against me - 
 this irritated them, and they determined it should not succeed. They 
 dispatched a message to me ; I could not be found. I returned in the 
 
 evening, and received, by the sexton of Doctor S 's meeting, an 
 
 address, signed by a large number of influential characters, earnestly 
 requesting I would, upon that evening, deliver a lecture. I consented; 
 the bell announced my consent ; the congregation assembled, and the 
 house was very full. I selected my subject from Isaiah, " Who hath 
 believed our report." I was divinely supported ; my heart was very 
 full ; gratitude glowed in my bosom, gratitude to that Being, who had 
 upon this, as well as upon many former occasions, so conspicuously ap- 
 peared for me. 
 
 Among other valuable acquisitions, whic.h crowned my labours in 
 Newport, was the friendship of Mr. afterwards General Varnum, who 
 
104 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 gave- r me, upon the succeeding morning, a letter to Mr. N. Brown, of 
 Providence, for which place I departed. Mr. Brown received me 
 with much civility, and distinguished me by many acts of kindness. 
 The Rev. Mr. Snow's meeting-house was thrown open ; the congrega- 
 tions in Providence were large, I acquired many respectable friends, and 
 my visit was truly pleasing. I contemplated extending my tour as far 
 as Boston, but the season being far advanced, I postponed my purpose, 
 and hastened back to my pleasant home. Visiting my friends upon 
 the road, I did not reach the dwelling of my patron, until the winter 
 was at the door. This enduring friend began to fear he should even- 
 tually lose me ; and in truth the pressing calls, made upon me, allowed 
 me but little leisure to tarry with him. In the course of this winter, I 
 made many visits ; but my little stock of money was nearly exhausted. 
 Had I consented to the mode of collecting, then in practice, such was 
 the zeal of my hearers, that I might have amassed large sums ; but I 
 had no faniily, I did not want money, I believed I should be less ob- 
 noxious as a preacher, if I levied no taxes upon the people ; and I was 
 ambitious of being able to ask, Whose ox, or whose ass have I taken '? 
 Still, as I proceeded, the rancour of the clergy pursued me ; this pained 
 me to the soul, and I have passed many agonized hours, originating 
 from this inveterate source. I, however, veiled those scenes of sorrow 
 from the eye of the many ; in fact, when engaged in conversation, I so 
 unreservedly enjoyed my friends, that I ceased, for the time being, to re- 
 flect upon my enemies or their enmity. I never left home, without in- 
 creasing both the number of my friends and my enemies ; and they 
 were, individually and collectively, very much in earnest, while every at- 
 tempt to oppose the progress of truth became, in the hand of God, sub- 
 servient to the purpose of opening the eyes of the people. 
 
 I think it was in the January of 1773, that a most importunate so- 
 licitation drew me to Philadelphia ; and, having frequently visited that 
 city, I had many opportunities with strangers, collected there. Many 
 bore with them to their respective homes, such an account of my doc- 
 trine and my manner, as excited much curiosity. I was repeatedly and 
 earnestly urged to proceed to Maryland ; an eminent physician, by re- 
 peated letters, reiterated his solicitations. A sense of duty imrterious- 
 ly insisted, upon my accepting every invitation of the kind, to the ex- 
 tent of my power, and I consequently determined upon an immediate 
 commencement of my journey to Maryland ; accordingly my horse 
 was produced at the door, when it occurred to me, that I had no money. 
 Well, and what then? said I. "You will not think of a journey in such 
 
tlFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 165 
 
 circumstances ?" said cold-hearted Prudence. I certainly will. " But 
 how are you to get through a strange country, in which you have no 
 acquainttuiee ?" For shame, is this a time for these remarks ? Do 
 you not know, that God Almighty can, at all times, and in every place, 
 open the heart ; and that, if He be disposed to do any thing with me, or 
 by me, he will most assuredly bring me on my way ? " But had you 
 not better let your friends in this city know your circumstances ? They 
 will unquestionably make provision for you. 1 ' But this would be lean- 
 ing upon an arm of flesh ; it would be making provision for myself. 
 " What will you do at the first stage ? you will not be able to pur- 
 chase any thing, either for yourself, or your horse." If I meet with no 
 support, I will return immediately ; by this I shall know, if it be the 
 will of God I should proceed. " And will you really go on in this 
 way ?" Most assuredly, and I was on the point of mounting my 
 horse, when a gentleman crossed the street. " Are you going out of 
 town, sir ?" Yes, sir. " How far, pray, and which way ?" To Ma- 
 ryland, sir, to visit a place, which, as I am told, is eighty miles from 
 this city. " Are you going alone, sir ?" I am, sir. " I wish I had 
 known of your determination one hour since, I would certainly have 
 accompanied you part of the way." Well sir, you can do that now ; 
 if you please, I will wait an hour. " Will you ? then I will get ready 
 as soon as possible." The gentleman was punctual ; in less than an 
 hour he was on horseback ; and we commenced our journey together. 
 We passed on to Chester, delighted with our ride, and dined luxuriant- 
 ly, at one of the best inns in the country. Here I expected my fellow 
 traveller would quit me; and prudence again questioned : " Will you not 
 either return, or make known your situation '?" I will do neither; I will 
 trust in the Lord, and stay upon the God of my salvation. Our horses 
 were ordered out, again we proceeded together, and our conversation 
 was interesting, animated, delightful. In the middle of the afternoon, 
 we made a second stage ; here, said my companion, I had determin- 
 ed to leave you, but I find I am not able, I must proceed. Wo went 
 on until evening, when we put up at the house of a friend of my fellow 
 traveller, in Newark. This town contained an academy, in the hall 
 of which I afterwards preached. We spent the night most agreeably, 
 and although I expected to pursue the residue of my journey alone, 
 my slumbers were unbroken through the night, and I arose happy in. 
 the thought, that I was enabled to cast my care upon God. 
 
 Here my friend, after commending me to the protection of Heaven. 
 bade me adieu. I tarried until breakfast \\ as [over, when I requested 
 
1G6 L1FB OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 my horse : it was brought to the door. I took the bridle in my hand. 
 Prudence again was ready with her expostulations : " Well, and what 
 are you to do now ? you have been thus far brought on by an obliging 
 friend ; you have fifty miles more to. ride, through a country, not an in- 
 dividual in which you have ever seen, and you have not a penny in 
 your pocket" Again, I say, am I not here, as in Philadelphia, under 
 the care of that beneficent Being, who holds the universe in His hand ? 
 I will go on. Just as I raised my foot to the stirrup, the master of the 
 house appeared. " One word, sir, if you please, step in for a moment." 
 I once more entered the hospitable dwelling. " You will, I hope, excuse 
 me, sir; but, ever since I left my bed this morning, I have been strongly 
 excited to do, what however I am afraid to mention, and what I had 
 concluded I would not venture to do. But when I saw you in the act 
 of mounting your horse, I could no longer withstand an irresistible im- 
 pression, which impels me to ask your acceptance of this trifle :" put- 
 ting into my hands abundantly sufficient to bring me to the end of my jour- 
 ney. " You may not want this, sir ; but you may meet with some indi- 
 vidual, who does." Could my spirit, at this moment, forbear ecstatic 
 prostration before the throne of my God, my Father ? This was mani- 
 festly another instance of the interposition of my Divine Master. It 
 was He, who has the hearts of all in His hand, that had thus disposed 
 the heart of this man. I could not forbear felicitating him on being ap- 
 pointed to distribute. I communicated to him my real circumstances, 
 while tears of pleasure gushed into his eyes. He would then have made 
 an addition to the gratuity ; but this I resolutely refused : I had enough 
 for my present purpose, and more than enough would have been bur- 
 densome. I went on from this place, with inexpressible delight, my 
 soul warmly disposed to magnify the Lord, and to trust Him at all 
 times, not being afraid. My faith, by these manifestations thus invigo- 
 rated and renewed, I rejoiced in the good pleasure of my God; my way 
 was made clear before me, and I nothing doubted, that my journey 
 would be crowned with success. This day was indeed a happy day, 
 I shall certainly never, so long as memory shall continue its office, recur 
 to it without the most pleasurable emotions. 
 
 Upon the evening of this memorable day, I arrived at the end of my 
 journey, and I was received by the physician, whose letter of earnest so- 
 licitation had brought me thus far, -with many demonstrations of joy. I 
 was, however, greatly surprised, to find a person, who I understood was 
 master of a large fortune, plain, if not penurious, both in his house, fur- 
 niture, and apparel ; but, if I was disappointed by the appearance of the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 167 
 
 man and his dwelling, I was abundantly more so, by his conversation, 
 from which I learned, that he had been imposed upon by the accounts 
 he had received of me ; he had been made to believe I was, for matter 
 and manner, a second Whitefield. My heart sunk, as T reflected what 
 I had to expect, from a gentleman thus circumstanced. I beheld before 
 me a self-righteous Calvinist ; and I believed, when he discovered (as I 
 was determined he immediately should) ^he amount of my testimony, 
 he would sincerely repent, that he had summoned me to his abode, and 
 that I should, in consequence, have much-io suffer. The house afforded 
 no spare bed, and, of course, I lodged, I cannot say slept with my host. 
 The whole night was devoted to conversation, and I embraced the first 
 pause to inform him, that I once viewed the Deity, and the creature man, 
 precisely as they now appeared to him ; but that a complete revolution 
 had been wrought in my mind. Sir, I once believed the faithful Crea- 
 tor had called into existence by far the greatest number of human beings, 
 with no other intention, than to consign them to endless misery, rescuing 
 only a few respected persons, from a state of sin and suffering. You 
 will, my dear sir, probably regret that you have invited me hither, when 
 I inform you, that the Christ, in whom I trust, and the gospel, which I 
 preach, is not the Christ, of whom you expected to hear, nor the gospel, 
 you supposed I should preach. The Christ, in whom I formerly con- 
 fided, was a partial Saviour ; but the Christ, in whom I now trust, is 
 the Saviour of the world. The gospel, you have been accustomed to hear, 
 and which you expected I should preach, is a partial gospel, conveying 
 the glad tidings of eternal life in Christ Jesus, only to an elected few. 
 The gospel, I preach, is glad tidings to every individual of the human 
 race; assuring them that, in Christ, the promised seed, all the nations, all 
 the families of the earth shall be blessed. I fear, sir, that, not being ac- 
 customed to the ministry of the reconciliation, committed to the apostles, 
 to wit, that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself, not 
 imputing unto them their trespasses ; that, when all mankind like sheep 
 had gone astray, the Lord, the offended God, laid upon Jesus the iniqui- 
 ties of us all, that he might put them away by the sacrifice of himself, 
 that they might thus, as a mill-stone, be cast into the depths of the sea. 
 and be found no more at all ; that Jesus, thus performing the will of 
 God, the world may ultimately behold him in his true character, as the 
 Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world ; thus becoming 
 the Saviour of all men, not in, but from their sins. I fear, my good 
 sir, that when you hear me thus preaching the gospel, which God him- 
 self preached to Abraham, and which ne testified by the mouth of al! 
 
168 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 his holy prophets ever since the world began, your disappointment will 
 be grievous. I know, sir, you have not been accustomed to hear of 
 Universal Love, of boundless compassion ; and these sounds may make 
 you as angry, as they have made many of our brethren in every age. 
 Hero I made a full pause, continuing for a few moments in painful sus- 
 pense. I was, however, soon relieved. " No, sir, you have nothing to 
 fear from me; for although the things, of which you speak, have never en- 
 tered into my head or heart, yet, give me leave to assure you, it will ne- 
 ver give me pain to know, that God's ways are not as my ways, nor his 
 thoughts as my thoughts. My mind is so far from revolting at the ti- 
 dings you bear, that nothing would give me more unutterable joy, than 
 to be assured of their truth." Thus was my mind exonerated from a 
 weight of dread apprehension. I asked him, what assurance he could 
 either wish for, or expect ? " Nothing more than a ' Thus saith the 
 Lord.' " I continued, through the residue of the night, preaching the 
 gospel, according to the scriptures ; and it pleased Almighty God so to 
 furnish my mind with testimonies, drawn from the sacred volume, that I 
 went on, from Genesis to Revelations, until the morning dawned upon 
 us. But a brighter morning dawned upon the long-benighted mind of 
 my wondering hearer ; he exhibited, what he said he experienced, rap- 
 ture before unknown. He was,indeed, as one, brought out of darkness, 
 into marvellous light, and from the power of satan, unto God. I never 
 before saw so great a change, wrought in so short a time. He gave me 
 a sketch of his life, which had been employed in seeking to accumulate 
 riches, and righteousness. The former he had gained, but the latter he 
 had not ; and he was constrained to confess, that if the wealth, he had 
 taken such unwearied pains to obtain, and to keep, were no better in the 
 sight of man, than his righteousness was in his own estimation, and in 
 the estimation of his God, he had been all his life labouring in vain, and 
 spending his strength for naught. By commerce, and the practice of 
 physic, the Doctor had acquired a fortune of forty thousand pounds 
 sterling ; yet from the appearance of the man, we should have conclud- 
 ed his resources extremely limited. His offspring were only one son, 
 and one daughter ; his wife was no more ; his son a prodigal ; his 
 daughter a married woman, in eligible circumstances, and of a most 
 amiable character. The Doctor was far advanced in life, and although 
 he had been uniformly employed in getting and hiding money, yet he 
 was so religious a man, as to part with four hundred pounds sterling 
 toward building a meeting-house ; and he was greatly mortified, at not 
 being able to obtain permission for me to preach therein, though he 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 169 
 
 went so far, as to assure those, who had the care of the house, that he 
 would put it in complete repair, if he might be indulged with the plea- 
 sure of hearing who he pleased in the pulpit, when it was not otherwise 
 occupied. But the Presbytery had given orders, that no person should 
 be admitted, into any of their meetings, without a letter of licence, first 
 had and obtained from that body. " So," said the Doctor, " let God 
 send, by whom He will send, the sent of God can obtain no admis- 
 sion ; but those, whom the Presbytery think proper to send, must be 
 admitted every where ! Is not this rank priestcraft ?" But although 
 the doors of every house of worship, in that neighbourhood, were shut 
 against us, many private houses were devoted to us, and the Doctor 
 was indefatigable in striving to spread abroad the savour of the Redeem- 
 er's name. His soul was so highly wrought, by the discoveries he had 
 made, that he most ardently desired to make all men acquainted with 
 the grace, in which they stood. 
 
 The Doctor was a man of uncommon abilities ; his mind was high* 
 ly cultivated ; I never knew a finer speaker. He was well acquainted 
 with the religion of the world, and, possessing a happy facility of man- 
 ifesting his knowledge, when it pleased God to show him his salvation, 
 when he had power given him to believe with his heart the word of 
 God, which giveth life unto all men, from the abundance of his be- 
 lieving heart, his mouth became full of the praises of his God ; and 
 wherever he went, so often as opportunity offered, he delighted to 
 magnify the name of the Redeemer : spreading far, and wide, to the 
 utmost of his abilities, the truth as it is in Jesus, the glad tidings of the 
 gospel. Every body, who knew the man, was astonished ; for, strange 
 to tell, he became liberal ; liberal of that, with which he had heretofore 
 found it so difficult to part ; he could part with his money ; and, among 
 numerous instances of his generosity, I myself w r as an example. He 
 saw my vestments were rather worn, they could not last always, and he 
 ordered me a complete suit of superfine broadcloth. I looked at the 
 Doctor, at his garments, much worse than mine. I am really astonished, 
 said I. " Not more than I am myself, sir. I have for a whole year 
 been perfectly aware, that I wanted raiment, yet I could not find it in 
 my heart to purchase even those articles of which I stood in most 
 need ; but, sir, I do indeed behold my former self with detestation. 
 I continued with the Doctor for several weeks ; he accompanied me 
 from place to place, enjoying abundantly more, than the world could 
 give, or take away ; and his numerous connexions were partakers of 
 his felicity. For myself I had rich 6pportunities of preaching the gos- 
 
170 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 pel of the kingdom, and my pleasures were proportioned to the satis- 
 faction, which I was instrumental in communicating. But it 
 became necessary I. should return to Philadelphia, and the Doctor was 
 exceedingly affected ; yet, previous to my final departure, I had en- 
 gaged to preach at an Episcopalian church, at some distance, where it 
 was believed a large concourse of people would be assembled. But 
 on Saturday evening, the wind being north-west, brought on so se- 
 vere a frost, that the ensuing day, Sunday, February 14th, 1773, was 
 by far the coldest day I had ever experienced. I was however deter- 
 mined to keep my appointment, and I rode six miles on horseback, 
 accompanied by a gentleman, who had conceived for me the strongest 
 affection, and we derived so much pleasure, from the divine subjects, 
 which engaged our attention, that we hardly adverted either to the se- 
 verity of the day, or the distance ; and my fellow traveller, in the ful- 
 ness of his heart, declared, did it depend upon him, we would ride on 
 till the close of time, and then leap into eternity together. The cold, 
 how^*r, was sufficiently piercing to compel us to assemble in the 
 school-house, instead of the church, where a large chimney, and a 
 blazing hearth, hardly kept us from freezing ; yet was my own heart, 
 and the hearts of many of my hearers, warmed by that fire of divine 
 love, enkindled by the word, and spirit of our God ; w r hich spirit gra- 
 ciously vouchsafed to take of the things of Jesus, and show them unto 
 us, giving us not only peace, but joy, unspeakable joy, in believ'ng. 
 I proposed departing for Philadelphia, on the following Monday ; but 
 the Doctor, and his friends, prevailed upon me to tarry a day or two 
 longer, in which time he laboured hard to persuade me to continue 
 with him. " Only," said he, " consent to abide here, and I will very 
 cheerfully build for you as handsome a church, as any in the country, 
 and it shall be your own. I will devote ten, of the forty thousand 
 pounds, which I possess, to this purpose* I thanked him, most cordial- 
 ly, for his nattering offer ; but added, that the tender of his whole es- 
 tate would be no temptation to me to accept a permanent residence. 
 My mind was, at that time, solemnly impressed by a conviction, that I 
 was sent out to preach the gospel ; and that, as the servant of God, I 
 must neither loiter by the way, nor seek to evade the spirit of my com- 
 mission. An imposing sense of duty compelled me to say, that, so 
 long as I was able, I would submit to the will of my Master. Upon 
 the night previous to my departure, we had little sleep. We expatia- 
 ted with pleasing wonder upon the mysterious ways of heaven, and we 
 pouix'd out our souls in prayer to that God, who, having brought us 
 
LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 171 
 
 together, had caused us to drink into one spirit. The morning came, 
 when, after commending ourselves to God, and to the word of his grace, 
 I was on the point of departing, in the same manner I had left Phila- 
 delphia, yet, without even the vestige of apprehension. But the Doc- 
 tor, taking me by the hand, essayed to articulate ; but was necessitated 
 to pause for self-possession, when he said : " God forever bless you, and 
 be with you ; and wherever you go, make your way plain before you ; 
 and, if we never meet again in this world, (for I am an old man you 
 know) I rejoice in the assurance, that we shall meet in the presence of 
 God, our Saviour, and spend an eternity together." He then put into 
 my hand gold sufficient, abundantly sufficient, to bear my expenses 
 even to the dwelling of my patron. " You may want this upon the 
 road," said he, " take it as a memento of friendship." I am, dear sir, 
 amazed at your liberality. " I also am amazed It is the Lord's do- 
 ings, and truly, it is marvellous in my eyes." Thus closed my visit 
 to my worthy friend, after I had promised, that, if it should so please 
 God, I would cheerfully visit him again. 
 
 On my return, being earnestly solicited, I preached in the hall of 
 the academy at Newark ; and I once more reposed under the roof of 
 that hospitable man, who was made the instrument of administering to 
 my necessities, on my way. At Wilmington too, I delivered my mes- 
 sage ; and elevated by an excursion, which had been so greatly blessed, 
 I returned to Philadelphia in perfect health, and high spirits. During 
 the residue of the spring, the whole of the succeeding summer, and a 
 part of the autumn, until October 1773, my time was divided between 
 Pennsylvania, the Jersies, and New- York. My friends were to be 
 found among every class of people, from the highest to the most hum- 
 ble, and almost every day increased the number, both of my friends, 
 and enemies. The clergy continued a phalanx of opposition. One 
 good man stumbled upon a most ingenious device. A Mr. Still, a 
 Baptist priest, wrote a most elaborate letter, in which he charged me 
 with many crimes, assuming as facts, those reported crimes, whioh my 
 soul abhorred. This letter he read in every company, in which he 
 mixed ; sent copies of it to New-England, and various other parts of 
 the country ; giving those, to whom he made his communications, to 
 understand, that he had forwarded this letter to me, although I never 
 saw it, and was indebted for an account of its contents, to some wor- 
 thy individuals, who were among the number of those, to whom it was 
 read. Thus did this man industriously essay to prejudice the minds 
 of the people, trusting that their hiftred of me, and my testimony. 
 
172 UFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 would, if possible, be commensurate with his own ; and thus, at his right- 
 eous tribunal, I was tried, and condemned, and, as far as he could prevail, 
 executed, without being suffered to plead in my own defence, or even 
 furnished with a copy of the allegations against me. Had I not reason 
 to supplicate : Grant me, O my God ! patient resignation, and the di- 
 vine light of thy countenance. Yet the character, priest, and adversa- 
 ry, did not always prove synonimous : A clergyman, upon a memora- 
 ble evening, entered a house of public worship, in which I was pro- 
 mulgating The Truth as it is in Jesus. He presented himself with a 
 determination to oppose me ; but, quitting the church, and entering my 
 lodgings, he folded me in his arms, exclaiming (while his eye glistened 
 with pleasure,) " If this be heresy, may I so worship the God of my 
 fathers, during the residue of my days." Nor was this a solitary in- 
 stance ; Mr. Duchee, minister of the established church of Philadelphia, 
 Mr. Tretard, of New-Rochelle, Mr. Gano, of New- York, Mr. Tyler, 
 Episcopalian minister of Norwich, were among the number of those, 
 who, if they were not fully with me in sentiment, have uniformly dis- 
 charged toward me the duty of Christian friends. My opportunities of 
 observing uncommon characters were multiplied. I regret, that the 
 limits, I have prescribed to myself, will not permit me to dwell upon 
 the life and virtues of Thomas Say, of Philadelphia ; a man, who, it 
 may be said, re-visited this world, after being privileged with more than 
 a bird's-eye view of another. Anthony Benezet might also claim many 
 pages. Christopher Marshall ; the celebrated Mrs. Wright, and her 
 uncommon family many shades of departed friends flit before me, but 
 I must hasten from the now-beatified group, and pursue the sometimes 
 rugged path, over which the journey of life hath conducted me. 
 
 Upon the 10th of October, 1773, I embarked on board the Hum- 
 Bird, captain Lawton, for Newport, which place we reached at 
 early breakfast, and where I was received in a manner comporting 
 with my most sanguine wishes. Belcher, Warner, Otis, Newton, 
 Wright, Wanton, Waterhouse, Ellery, &c. &c. these all received me 
 with open arms ; but having reason to believe, much confusion would 
 result, from an attempt to open the doors of the meeting-house, in which 
 
 Dr. S officiated, I sent the Doctor an assurance, that I would no 
 
 more enter his pulpit. The Governour granted the state-house to the 
 solicitations of my friends, and became himself one of my audience. 
 I preached also in the meeting-house of Mr. Kelly, and at the prison. 
 The congregations were crowded, and attentive. Newport contains a 
 synagogue, and the many Jews, collected there, pressed to hear. Mr. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 373 
 
 Lopez, an opulent gentleman among the Jews, celebrated as well for 
 humanity, as for mercantile knowledge, met me at the door of the state- 
 house, and, pressing my hand, said : " God Almighty be with you, sir. 
 and bless and preserve you wherever you go, giving you good success 
 always." He w<jkuld have added ; but his overflowing heart evidently 
 denied him utterance. The Jews were generally pleased. They de- 
 clared, they had never before heard so much in favour of Christianity. 
 Poor hearts ! they would see the things, which belong to their peace, if 
 the appointed time of the Father were come ; in this their day they 
 are hidden from their eyes : but the day of the Lord cometh, when 
 whatever is hidden shall be revealed. 
 
 I was solicited to take up my abode at Newport, and assured, if I 
 would so do, a place of public worship should be erected for my accom- 
 modation. These good people learned, that I had been necessitated to 
 part with my horse, for the purpose of defraying the expenses, attendant 
 upon re-printing specimens of apostolic preaching, selected from the 
 writings of Mr. Relly ; and they insisted upon purchasing me another. 
 Nor was this all ; they helped me on my way, contributing abundant- 
 ly, by private gratuities, to the relief of my necessities. Mr. Ward, 
 secretary to the then province of Rhode- Island, with many others, 
 were, upon this my second visit, added to the number of my friends. A. 
 
 member of Dr. S 's church informed me, it v j s affirmed, I had 
 
 absolutely said, all men should be saved. I assured him, I had never 
 said, all men should be saved ; I had said, Jesus was and is the Sa- 
 viour of all men ; and that, in the fulness of time, he would gather to- 
 gether alt things into ONE, bringing in his antient people, the Jews, 
 and with them the fulness of the Gentiles, causing all flesh to come 
 and worship before him, and making of Jew and Gentile ONE new 
 man, so making peace ; and that all the kingdoms of the world 
 should become the kingdoms of God and of His Christ. I publicly 
 invited any individual in Newport, who had aught to say against the 
 testimony I delivered, to meet me in an open manner, the bible in his 
 hand ; and if the arguments he should produce were more consistent 
 with the sacred writings, I would upon the spot, in the most unreserved 
 manner, acknowledge and renounce my errors. 
 
 Quitting Newport, I took passage for East-Greenwich. A fellow 
 passenger told me, he had been informed I had said : Our sins were laid 
 upon the Devil ; and that there was nothing for us to do ; and lie 
 wished to know, if I believed either the one or the other ? Certainl) 
 not, I replied ; it was not the Devil, but the Redeemer, on whom thr 
 
 Y 
 

 174 LIFE OF HEV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Lord laid the iniquities of us all. I assured him, we had many things 
 in our various characters to perform, to which it was our bounden duty 
 to attend ; and that those, who continued in offences, would be exper- 
 imentally able to say, " Truly, the way of the transgressor is hard ;" 
 for, assuredly, they would be chastised with many stripes. My appear- 
 ance at East-Greenwich was welcomed by Mr. Varnum, and others. 
 Several gentlemen, whom I had not before known, called upon me at 
 Mr. Varnum's ; among these was Dr. Hawkins, who questioned me, 
 and appeared satisfied with iny answers ; he introduced me to his 
 friends, Mr. Green, &c. &c. I preached, in the court-house, to a 
 crowded audience. The superior court was then in session ; the judges 
 and the lawyers were among my hearers. I was labouring under great 
 indisposition, but God was with me. Esquire Casey took me to 
 his house, where I was met by judge Potter for the purpose of conver- 
 sation. He said, he had never been pleased with pulpit exhibitions, 
 because they were so replete with contradictions, and he was determined 
 to sift me thoroughly. We passed the night together ; he performed 
 what he had proposed, with candour, and appeared satisfied with the 
 result. At parting, he earnestly wished me success, and prayed that I 
 might be preserved from the power of the priest, and the flatterer. This 
 gentleman continued to evince great affection for me ; he seemed to 
 understand and ffcsrttt-ihe power of the gospel ; I had not seen his supe- 
 rior. At this period, I was desirous of extending my tour as far as 
 Boston : but, notwithstanding the repeated manifestations of divine 
 protection, with which I had been favoured, a reluctance to venturing 
 on untried scenes was gradually pervading my spirit, and I was again 
 ready to ask, What am I to do in Boston ? Yet I added : O ! 
 my unbelieving heart, who shall deliver me from this body of 
 sin and death 1 Blessed be God, who is faithful. Passing an 
 hour at Mrs. Green's, I was introduced to a lady from Boston, a Mrs. 
 Hubbard ; she questioned me upon the doctrine of reprobation, partic- 
 ularly that passage, which expressly asserts, " Jacob have I loved, and 
 Esau have I hated." My answers were so much to her satisfaction, 
 that she gave me a pressing invitation to her house in Boston ; and as 
 I contemplated a journey thither, she prayed me to take a letter to Mr. 
 Hubbard, and to make his dwelling my abode, during my continuance 
 in the metropolis of Massachusetts. From East-Greenwich I proceed- 
 ed to Pawtuxet, delivering my message in their house of worship ; and 
 from thence I repaired to Providence, where I was received by those, 
 who had before bade, me welcome, with continued kindness. Imme- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 175 
 
 diately on my arrival, a summons to pass the evening with the Rev*. Mr. 
 Snow was presented me ; I delayed not to attend him, and I was ac- 
 companied by Mr. Binney, a young gentleman of great promise. Mr. 
 Snow's parlour was nearly filled by the members of his church and con- 
 gregation. A long and solemn pause succeeded the usual ceremonies 
 of introduction ; Mr. Snow at length broke silence by observing : 
 " We are, sir, perfectly aware, that by far the greater part of the town 
 are anxious to hear you ; and, as our house is the most convenient, we 
 presume application will be made for its use. But, since you were last 
 here, a few of our members have heard strange reports respecting you : 
 (viz.) That you believe all mankind will finally be saved ; and that the 
 new birth is not in us, but in Christ. I have, therefore, thought proper 
 to call together several of my church, that they may have an opportuni- 
 ty of speaking to you, and determining whether they think proper to 
 open their doors. Do you, sir, believe that all mankind will be saved ?" 
 I believe, Jesus Christ is the Saviour of all men ; that, by the grace of 
 God, he tasted death for every man ; that he is the propitiation for tlif. 
 sins of the whole world ; and that God was, in Christ, reconciling the 
 world unto Himself, not imputing unto them their trespasses. " Well, 
 and do you believe, that, all are saved ?" Not as unbelievers ; they, who 
 believe not, are damned. " How then are they interested in Jesus?" 
 Precisely as they were in the first Adam. But all are not interested in 
 Jesus, as they were in the first Adam." How then doth it appear, that 
 as, by the offence of one man, judgment came upon all men to condemna- 
 tion, so by the righteousness of one, the free gift came upon all men to 
 justification of life ? " And do you, sir, believe that, in consequence 
 of this, all will be finally happy ?" Do you, sir, believe all who learn 
 of the Father will be happy ? " O ye?." And do you believe all will 
 be taught of God, and come to Jesus, and be saved ? " No, indeed." 
 Do ministers in general believe this 1 " No, we know they do not. 7? 
 Why then do they pray for it ? Do they not pray, that God would has- 
 ten the happy time, when he shall bring in his antient people, the Jews, 
 and with them the fulness of the Gentiles ; that all the kingdoms of the 
 world may become the kingdoms of God and of His Christ ; that they 
 may all be taught of God from the least unto the greatest 1 For this, and 
 much more, clergymen repeatedly pray : and can we suppose they are 
 dealing hypocritically with their God ? are they such monsters of impie- 
 ty, as to solicit, for what, they believe the Almighty had determined, be- 
 fore the foundation of the world, he would never grant ? A profound 
 pause succeeded ; after which, I was aked : " Do you, sir, believe the 
 
176 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 New Birth is in us, or in Christ ?" He, who is born of God, sinnetk 
 not. But if we say, we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth 
 is not in us. He, who is born of God, is a new creature ; all old things 
 are passed away, and all things are become new : a good man, out of 
 the good treasury of his heart, bringeth not forth good and evil, but good, 
 only good. I conceive, therefore, that to be born again, or, as it may be 
 rendered, to be born anew, or born from above, alludes to the birth of 
 the human family in the person of Christ Jesus, we being members of 
 his body. Hence the sacred record decidedly pronounces : Created 
 anew in Christ Jesus. " Well, that is scripture, to be sure." Are we 
 Christ Jesus ? *' No, certainly." Then, can being created anew, in 
 Christ Jesus, be understood as being created anew in ourselves ? A 
 part of the company discovered great bitterness ; others were more calm. 
 I requested them to observe, that, if they reported me as a heretic, they 
 must remember they smote me through Paul's skirts, for I had delivered 
 no sentiments of my own fabrication ; I had merely rehearsed in their 
 ears the unadulterated language of revelation : I therefore begged, I 
 might be honestly reported. One gentleman declared, that, whether I 
 deemed it honest, or not, he should report me as a heretic. I then insis- 
 ted, he should declare, what heresy was. He said, I was against the gos- 
 pel. I requested, he would say, what gospel was ? He replied, it was 
 whatever was found in the new testament. I appealed to the company, 
 whether this was either fair, or true ? whether there were not many 
 particulars in the new testament, which were not gospel ? and whether 
 the gospel was not preached to Abraham ? or whether the gospel was 
 not God's good sayings, or glad tidings to all people ? Whether I 
 had said any thing contrary to this, or proposed any way of salvation, 
 beside Christ Jesus? or whether I had privily strove to bring in such a 
 damnable doctrine, as to deny the Lord who bought them ? They were 
 all dumb. At length Mr. Snow said : " Well, my friends, you know 
 the reason of my calling you together, and you can now determine re- 
 specting Mr. Murray's again entering our pulpit. I would have you 
 freely deliver your sentiments. One said, the people wished to hear, 
 and there was no house so convenient as theirs ; he could see no reason 
 why I should not preach. Another objected. His conscience would 
 not allow him to consent. A third remarked, the people would go to 
 hear me, preach where I would ; suppose I was wrong, I could not 
 contaminate the house ; for his part, he did not see that I had said any 
 thing, which had been proved erroneous ; that he most devoutly blessed 
 God he had been present, for he had received more light, than he had 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 177 
 
 ever before enjoyed ; and many united their acknowledgments with his. 
 I assured them, it was my solemn determination to preach nothing 
 but Christ Jesus, and him crucified for every human being. Finally, 
 they determined to open their doors for my reception : and thus, by per- 
 mission of minister, and people, I again and again addressed a vast mul- 
 titude from the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow, of Providence, and my 
 hearers appeared serious and attentive. 
 
 During my continuance in Providence, I became acquainted with 
 Doctor Huse of that place, a very uncommon man, and, as it appeared 
 to me, of a very luminous intellect. Bidding me God speed, he added : 
 " Sir, I rejoice, that you dare be honest ; how long you will continue 
 so, I know not. At present, you are boldly facing danger, and with- 
 out fear. Continue, I beseech you, to declare unmixed truth, although 
 all men should be against you." On the 26th of October, 1773, 1 took 
 a seat in the stage for Boston. Late upon the evening of that day, we 
 reached town. I had a letter from Mrs. Hubbard, and another for a 
 gentleman, a major Paddock : but I was unwilling to disturb strangers 
 at an hour so improper for a first introduction, and the old question re- 
 curred : " What are you to do now ?" The passengers, one after ano- 
 ther, were dropped ; I remained alone in the coach, and the coachman 
 civilly questioned : " Where will you be set down, sir ?" Can you 
 recommend to me, a decent tavern ? While he deliberated, a son of Mrs. 
 Hubbard accosted him : " Is Mr. Murray in the coach ?" " Yes, sir." 
 He approached the door. " My mother, sir, has written to my father re- 
 specting you, and we have been looking out for you with great impa- 
 tience." All was immediately settled ; and thus was I met, in Boston, 
 by the good providence of God, while my throbbing heart exclaimed : 
 To the Lord belongeth mercy ; and praise, and thanksgiving, are his 
 righteous due. 
 
 By Mr. Hubbard I was received with great kindness, he was an in- 
 nocent, honest man, and his family were truly friendly. Upon the 
 ensuing morning I delivered my letter to Major Paddock, whose re- 
 ception of me was such, as a stranger ought to expect, coolty civil ; he, 
 however, introduced me to Mr. Williams, a respectable, philanthropic 
 gentleman, strongly attached to the writings of Jacob Bhemen. To 
 Mr. Williams I have most gratefully to acknowledge a series of impor- 
 tant, and essential obligations. Measures were soon in train for the 
 purpose of procuring a place, in which I might be allowed to deliver 
 my testimony ; but every effort was ineffectual, until the following Sat- 
 urday, October 30th. In this interval, I received from Mr. Thomas 
 
178 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Handasyde Peck, a polite invitation to dine. Mr. Peck was a very 
 respectable man, and his lady a most valuable woman ;* they were un- 
 wearied in contributing, to the utmost of their abilities, to the relief of 
 the sons and daughters of sorrow. Ranking among the admirers of 
 Mr. Whitefield, they possessed eminently the characteristic of his ad- 
 ( herents, they were abundantly less bigoted than other Religionists. In 
 the agreeable family of Mr. Peck, I passed a most delightful day ; I 
 related to them the manner of my coming to the house of my patron, 
 and I sketched for them the dealings of God with me, since he had cal- 
 led me forth. They listened with silent astonishment ; and when I had 
 finished, they praised God in my behalf. They were evidently pained, 
 that I could not obtain a place in which to preach ; and they added, if 
 no other could be procured, they would open their own doors for this 
 purpose. There were in Boston at this period a few individuals, who 
 were immeasurably attached to the writings of Jacob Bhemen. Those 
 persons looked down with pity on all those they had left behind, who 
 were such infidels, as not to ascribe honour and glory to the inspired 
 pages of this writer. I could not forbear experiencing great satisfac- 
 tion from the consideration, that Jesus Christ was made unto me wisdom. 
 The adherents of Bhemen enjoyed their philosophical divinity very 
 highly, delighting to wrap themselves about in a mysterious garment 
 of unintelligible jargon. But thus it must ever be. Error will prevail, 
 until the appointed time of the Father shall usher the benighted mind 
 into the clear shining of the full meridian of Divine Revelation. 
 
 At the house of Major Paddock I met a member of Mr. Stillman's 
 church, who seemed to conceive there would be little difficulty in over- 
 throwing my plan ; to whom I observed, that if any individual would 
 unite with me in searching the scriptures, I would, supposing there were 
 not found in the book of God more positive assertions of final, and 
 universal Redemption, than of final Reprobation, pledge myself imme- 
 diately to surrender my present soul-satisfying views. " No one," he 
 replied, " could take pleasure in the destruction of mankind." Why, 
 do not you, sir ? " No, sir." Why, sir 1 " I wonder you should ask 
 such a question." Why, sir, why should you not take pleasure in that, 
 
 * Many of the descendants of this exemplary couple are among the most opu- 
 lent dwellers in this town. It is reported, that they are marching forward in the 
 luminous path of their excellent ancestors ; that they uniformly extend to the 
 children of adversity a munificent and extricating hand ; and, although their voi- 
 ces did not gladden the sick chamber of the preacher, yet he rejoiced in their 
 prosperity, and in that large portion of benevolence, ascribed to them by the 
 echoing tongue of fame. Editor, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 179 
 
 in which God takes pleasure ? " God does not take pleasure in des- 
 truction, sir." What, sir, and make individuals on purpose to destroy 
 them ? and Almighty too Ruling in Heaven above, and in earth be- 
 neath, as seemeth in his sight good ? Do you dare say, if you had 
 power, no fellow creature should be lost; and dare you suppose, that He, 
 who hath all power, both in heaven and in earth, hath not so much love 
 as you, a finite being ? Will He say to you, Love your enemies, do 
 good to those, who hate you, and pray for those, who despitefully use 
 you, and will He not do likewise ? shall the disciple be above his Mas- 
 ter, and the servant above his Lord ? He answered with a sigh : " I 
 cannot argue with you, sir, that last observation has weight." Ah, sir ! 
 I continued, would that every individual were more intimately acquaint- 
 ed with that most elevating subject, the love of God to man, the never- 
 beginning, never-ending love of God to man. This, sir, is a species of 
 knowledge, which doth not puff up ; but it lifts up, as on eagles' wings, 
 ever mounting, never tiring, but still discovering, new wonders, through 
 the wasteless ages of eternity. But man, poor, fallen man, who in his 
 present state is enmity against God, is ever measuring the love and 
 compassion of Deity, by his own scanty rule. Nay, by a rule, which he 
 would blush to acknowledge. I have frequently said, that there is not 
 a person of character upon this continent, who would bear to be delin- 
 eated, whatever character he sustains, as he thinks and speaks of 
 the Most High. What father would choose to be supposed deficient 
 in providing, to the extent of his power, every requisite aid for the be- 
 ings he has been instrumental in introducing into existence ? It is 
 confessed by all, that God is Almighty ; that he is a sovereign ; that he 
 can do, and will do, as he pleases; and that no power can resist his will. 
 It is also said, That he willeth not the death, the eternal death, of the 
 sinner ; that he willeth, that man should be saved; that he hath appoint- 
 ed, and therefore sends out his servants to warn mankind, to call them 
 to eternal blessedness, to persuade them to come, that all things are 
 now ready. All this looks like love in God. But we are informed, the 
 people, called, have no knowledge of God ; that they are enmity against 
 God, and that, not from a persuasion that God was, in Christ, reconcil- 
 ing them to himself, but because they do not know this, and therefore. 
 do not believe it ; that no man can come unto the Father, but by Je- 
 sus ; that no man can come unto Jesus, except the Father draw him ; 
 and that all, who learn of the Father, come unto Jesus ; and all, who 
 eome unto him, he will in no wise cast out. Are multitudes cast out 
 ibrever ? Then it is because they were not taught of God ; for if they 
 
180 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 had learned of the Father, they would have come unto Jesus, and he 
 would in no wise have cast them out. But did God attempt to teach 
 them, and, finding it beyond his power, did he finally give them up ? 
 But is not God almighty ? Yes, but he did not choose to stretch forth 
 his Omnipotent arm. Why ? Because if he had, they must be saved, 
 and he would leave them to the freedom of their own will. Did He 
 not know the consequence would be their eternal damnation ? O yes ; 
 but this is perfectly right ; for, when he called, they would not hear. 
 Did he intend they should hear.? We have nothing to do with that. 
 Merciful God ! lift up the light of thy irradiating countenance upon the 
 benighted family of man. 
 
 Upon the evening of October 30th, 1773, I preached for the first 
 time in Boston, in the hall of the Factory. My hearers were attentive, 
 and, after I had closed, several individuals addressed me, and with ap- 
 parent kindness invited me to visit them at their houses. On the suc- 
 ceeding evening, (Sunday,) I again preached at the hall ; the congre- 
 gation was too large for the place. My subject was Zechariah ix. 9. 
 The people were more affectionate, than the preceding evening ; many 
 solicited me to tarry, and assured me, that a better place should be pro- 
 vided for my accommodation. On Monday evening, November 1st, 
 I preached to a select number at Mr. Peck's, who seemed to have the 
 power of God among them. In consequence of a pressing solicitation 
 from this gentleman, I took up my lodging in his hospitable mansion ; 
 thus goodness and mercy continually followed me. From my beloved 
 friend Binney, I received repeated and affectionate letters, and I trusted 
 this young gentleman would become an able advocate for the Redeemer. 
 A Mr. Little, of Newburyport, united his earnest solicitations with a 
 number of gentlemen, who importunately urged me to visit that place. 
 I dared not refuse ; and, parting with my affectionate friends in Boston, 
 I accompanied Mr. Little and others in the stage for Newburyport. 
 On our arrival, inquiries were made at the coach-side, if 1 were there ; 
 and on being answered in the affirmative, a crowd collected. Mr. Par- 
 sons, the Presbyterian minister, a venerable looking gentleman, imme- 
 diately visited me, and asked me many questions. Where I came from .' 
 what clergymen I was acquainted with ? and what credentials I could 
 produce ? During his inquiries he discovered, as it appeared to me, 
 j some uneasiness at the idea of my preaching in his pulpit : I there- 
 fore hastened to inform him, that I was no priest, nor approved of by 
 gentlemen of that order ; that I professed myself somewhat acquainted 
 with the salvation, wrought out by Jesus Christ, and that, wherever his 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 181 
 
 providence called me, I was willing to speak well of me name of the 
 Redeemer ; but, I added, that I had great reluctance in speaking in 
 any place in opposition to the wishes of the officiating minister. Mr. 
 Parsons replied: The house was not his, it was the property of the people, 
 and when it was not occupied, they had an indubitable right to invite 
 who they pleased. Speaking of my call to preach, whether ordinary, 
 or extraordinary, I observed I had both ; when he petulentlv asked : 
 " Pray, can you speak with tongues ?" It is possible I may, sir, with 
 tongues that you may not understand. However, your question is as 
 much against you, as against me. Jesus says, among the many signs, 
 that shall follow those who believe, they shall heal the sick by laying 
 hands upon them, and if they fake up any deadly thing, it shall not hurt 
 them. From these evidences, sir, perhaps it would be as hard for you 
 to prove yourself even a believer, as for me to prove myself a preacher, 
 sent of God. 
 
 While we were yet conversing, the bell was rung, and a large con- 
 gregation assembled, among which Mr. Parsons himself attended ; and 
 I selected, for my subject, Isaiah Iv. 10, 11. Agreeably to his earnest 
 request, Mr. Little was my liost ; and upon the ensuing morning, (Sat- 
 urday,) in consequence of a very polite invitation, I breakfasted with 
 Mr Parsons, and I was received by him, and his, very cordially ; his 
 countenance brightened upon me, and he requested me to preach again 
 in his church on that day : Nor was this all ; he walked with me to 
 the pulpit, and sat with me there, while I preached preparatory to the 
 communion, upon John xv. 12. On the ensuing day (Sunday) by the 
 request of Mr. Marsh, who was indisposed, I preached, both morning 
 and evening, at his church. Several friends visited me at Mr. Little's, 
 and we closed the day with prayer. I was rather surprised to learn, 
 that T lodged, at Mr. Little's, upon the very same bed, in which Mr. 
 Whitefield had reposed ; and that 1 had preached in the pulpit, before 
 which he was entombed. I continued in Newburyport, passing my 
 time most pleasantly, a second Sunday ; I preached, morning and 
 evening, in the pulpit of Mr. Marsh ; I gave frequent lectures there, 
 and in the meeting-house of Mr. Parsons, who always sat in the pulpit 
 with me, and frequently entertained me most hospitably at his house. 
 His lady appeared to merit a rank among the most accomplished of 
 women ; she was highly social, sentimental, and pleasant. The circle 
 of my friends in Newburyport was very respectable. Upon a lecture 
 evening, after I had closed, an old, grey-headed man, a member of Mr. 
 Parsons's church, quitting his seat, addressed the congregation, and in a 
 
182 LIFE OF REY. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 loud voice said : " My friends, this is a servant of the living God, who 
 is come from a far country, to proclaim the glad tidings of salvation. 
 We have too long been in darkness ; yea, our tongues have cleaved to 
 the roofs of our mouths, and this man is sent to animate and renew our 
 faith." Many blessed God, they had seen and heard me ; and all this 
 1 imputed to a want of knowledge, relative to the extent of the glad 
 tidings I promulgated. The Grace, Union, and Membership, upon 
 which I expatiated, were admitted by every Calvinist, but admitted only 
 for the elect ; and when I repeated those glorious texts pf scripture, 
 which indisputably proclaim the redemption of the lost world, as I 
 did not expressly say, My brethren, I receive these texts in the unlim- 
 ited sense, in which they are* given, they were not apprized, that I 
 did not read them with the same contracted views, to which they had 
 been accustomed. When they became assured of the magnitude and 
 unbounded result, which I ascribed to the birth, life, and death of the 
 Redeemer, their doors were fast closed against me. For myself. I was 
 in unison with Mr. Relly, who supposed the gradual dawn of light 
 would eventually prove more beneficial to mankind, than the sud- 
 den bursting of meridian day. Thus I was contented with proclaiming 
 the truth, as it is in Jesus, in scripture language only, leaving to my 
 hearers deductions, comments, and applications. 
 
 While I continued at Newburyport, numerous solicitations poured 
 upon me, from various quarters ; but, in haste to return to Philadel- 
 phia, I could only comply with the urgent importunities of several gen- 
 tlemen from Portsmouth, to which place I journeyed on the 10th of 
 November, 1773. I was received at Portsmouth with most nattering 
 marks of kindness. The pulpit of the separate minister, Mr. Drown, 
 then recently deceased, was thrown open to me ; the congregations 
 were large ; my adherents were truly respectable, and I was earnestly 
 urged to take up^my residence among them. The meeting-house of 
 
 Mr. Drown being too small, I was invited into the pulpit of Dr. L , 
 
 in which I preached, two clergymen occupying seats therein. In 
 Portsmouth I received many marks of friendship ; my necessities were 
 sought out, and removed ; and the names of Clarkson, Morrison, Hart, 
 and Drown, son of the deceased minister, were, on that first visit, among 
 my most partial friends. I returned to Newburyport, accompanied by 
 Mr. Morrison and Mr. Drown, and again delivered my testimony in the 
 pulpits of the Rev. Mr. Parsons and Mr. Marsh. Mr. Parsons reques- 
 ted I would write to him from Philadelphia ; and on Wednesday, No- 
 vember 17th, I returned to Boston, where I learned, that a spirit of in- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 183 
 
 quiry was in operation among my friends ; that tbeir bibles were in their 
 hands ; and that they were diligently employed in searching the scrip- 
 tures, to find whether these things were indeed so. Upon the evening 
 of the 18th, T preached in the mansion of my venerable friend, Mr. 
 Peck ; and I was distinguished by him, and his lady, with even paren- 
 tal kindness : Mrs. Peck entreating me to inform my mother, that I had 
 found, in the new world, a second maternal friend. It was upon this 
 occasion, that I audibly exclaimed : O God ! thou hast still continued 
 my God, and my guide ; let me not forget to render praises unto Thee. 
 At the period of which I am speaking, there were in Boston a num- 
 ber of Deists, who attended my labours. Their leader gave me fre- 
 quent invitations to visit him ; he summoned his friends, with whom ho 
 united in expressing his abhorrence of the character of the Apostle Paul. 
 To this gentleman I dwelt upon the respectable proofs, by which the 
 authenticity of scripture was supported, and I took leave to observe, that 
 he must have received the character of Paul from his enemies ; that 
 Paul was indubitably a learned man, brought up at the feet of Gama- 
 liel ; that he was celebrated as an orator ; and that his morals were un- 
 impeached. It was true, he was said to have advocated a most com- 
 fortless doctrine, to have affirmed, that a few were elected to everlast- 
 ing life ; while, by the same irreversible decree, countless millions were 
 consigned to remediless and never-ending misery. But, I added, sirs, 
 believe it not ; for, verily, the doctrine, that God was in Christ reconci- 
 ling the world unto himself, was uniformly proclaimed by our great 
 Apostle, The doctrine of election is questionless to be found in the 
 pages of this evangelical writer ; but reprobation is not a necessary con- 
 sequence of election, nor does it appear in the writings of the Apostle 
 to the Gentiles. A governour is elected by a commonwealth, a coun- 
 cil, senators, representatives are elected ; but are the people therefore 
 consigned to perdition ? Thus I went on, and my little audience with 
 lifted hands exclaimed : " This plan is worthy of a God ; and we felic- 
 itate you, dear sir, as the ambassador of Deity." The hall of the Fac- 
 tory, and the dwelling of my friend being too small for the increasing- 
 congregation, Mr. Peck proposed I should publish a lecture in the 
 
 meeting-house of Mr. C , of which he was the principal support. 
 
 I at first declined this proposal ; but his repeated, and earnest solicita- 
 tions, produced me in 'Mr. C- 's pulpit. In the hall of the Fac- 
 tory also, I again delivered my message ; and on Friday, November 
 26th, I preached at Faneuil-Hall : my subject, John vii| 36 ; Tf the 
 So?/, therefore, Khali make, you free, ye shall be free indeed. Tho prin- 
 
184 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 cipal gentlemdPof the town were among my audience, who heard me 
 with great seriousness. After lecture, many took me by the hand, and, 
 urging me to return to them speedily, prayed, in the warmest manner, 
 for my success, an a gospel promulgator. This was the last night of 
 my abode in Boston, on my first visit. I passed it at Mr. Peck's, ac- 
 companied by some friends, and we devoted it to scriptural investiga- 
 tions. My continuance in Boston was strongly urged ; but I was un- 
 der the necessity of departing, and devotional prayers for my safety, 
 ^access, and speedy return, were reiterated SUCH ARE MY CREDEN- 
 TIALS. I left Boston on Saturday, November 27 ; reaching Provi- 
 dence upon the evening of that day, where, again and again, I delivered 
 my testimony in the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow. Departing thence, 
 on the Tuesday following, accompanied by my dear young friend, Mr. 
 Biuney, for East-Greenwich, I met some very dear friends, and, as 
 iron sharpeneth iron, so was my countenance brightened, and my spirit 
 soothed and cheered. 
 
 From this period, November 30th, until the close of January, 1774, 
 when I reached my lodging-place, at the house of my patron, I moved 
 slowly on, preaching glad tidings in various places, friends and enemies 
 still multiplying. At New-London my opportunities of preaching 
 were repeated, and the number of my treasures proportionably augmen- 
 ted ; Hertell, Whey, Trueman, these were of the true circumcision, 
 who worshipped God in the spirit, rejoicing in Christ Jesus, and having 
 no confidence in the flesh ; and my orisons were daily offered up to 
 the God of all consolation, that the number of such genuine believers 
 might be increased. I delight to dwell upon the days I have passed in 
 New-London. Deshon, Wheat, Saltonstall, Packwood, Law, Hun- 
 tington, Champlin, Hubbard, &c. &c. very pleasant have ye been -unto 
 me. May the blessing of God descend upon your children's children, 
 to the latest generation. 
 
 One capital difficulty, which has encompassed me in my progress 
 through this younger world, has been the extreme reluctance of inquir- 
 ers to receive their answers in scripture language. Standing alone, I 
 have sought to wrap myself about, or rather to intrench myself in the 
 sacred testimony of my God ; and for this I have been accused of pre- 
 varication, equivocation, and what not ? merely because I have not gen- 
 erally chosen to garb my sentiments in my own words. For example : 
 The interrogator commences with a great many compliments, and then 
 follows : *1(pDo you believe all men will finally be saved ?" I believe, 
 ii is good and acceptable in the sight of (iod our Suriour, who will have 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 185 
 
 all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth. 
 " But do you yourself believe, that all mankind will finally be saved ?" 
 God hath included all in unbelief, that he may have mercy upon all. 
 " But will all be finally saved '?" God hath spoken of the restitution 
 of all things, by the mouth of alt his holy prophets, since the world be- 
 gan. " But still you do not answer my question." Why, sir, for any 
 thing I know, the authors, I have cited, mean, by their words, precisely 
 the same as I do. I adopt their language, because I conceive it ex- 
 pressses my own ideas better than any set of phrases I could press into 
 my service. This mode, however, has rarely given satisfaction. Persons 
 dare not, in an unqualified manner, deny the validity of scripture testi- 
 mony ; they can only assert, it does not mean as it speaks, and they 
 earnestly repeat the question : " Do you believe,' 1 c. &c. While my 
 responses are drawn from the sacred streams, flowing in the book of God, 
 from Genesis to Revelations, still they importunately,' sometimes 
 clamorously demand : " But do you take those scriptures, as they 
 are spoken ?" To which I can only reply : I have no reason to be- 
 lieve, that, by saying one thing, and meaning another, men, so upright, 
 have formed a plan to deceive me. An attempt has then been made 
 to prove the texts in question did not, could not, mean as they spake. 
 To which T have answered : Multitudes are on your side ; many have 
 laboured to prove God a liar ; but I have never yet heard any argu- 
 ment, sufficiently potent, to convince me that He is so. 
 
 On the ninth of April, in this year, I received from the church and 
 congregration in Portsmouth, New-Hampshire, worshipping in the se- 
 parate meeting-house, a solemn, and affectionate call, to take upon me 
 the pastoral charge of that people ; but I was not then convinced I 
 ought to accept an establishment in any place. I passed the spring, and 
 the early part of the summer of 1774, in Pennsylvania, the Jersies, and 
 New- York with persons, who had drank into the same spirit with my- 
 self ; with my revered friend, and father, with the Mounts, and Pang- 
 burns of those happy days. Blessed be God, I have indeed enjoyed 
 richly the consolations of friendship. In Philadelphia I was present at 
 the heart-rending trial of some malefactors, which resulted in their recei- 
 ving sentence of death ; and I could not forbear exclaiming : OH, 
 ADAM, WHAT HAST THOU DONE ? My bosom swells to rapture, upon 
 the reflection, that I had frequent opportunities of visiting those crimi- 
 nals, and of preaching to them peace, through the fountain opened in the 
 side of the second Adam. The poor creatures seemed much affected. 
 The proclamation of the tender merries of the Redeemer was more ef- 
 
186 LIFE OF REr. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 fectual, than all the terrors of Mount Sinai. Departing from New-York, 
 about the 20th of July, I passed, by short stages, through Connecticut 
 and Rhode-Island, visiting my friends in various directions, and deriv- 
 ing inexpressible satisfaction from beholding their order, their zeal, and 
 the magnitude of their faith. On the 16th of August, the governour of 
 Rhode-Island sent me a passage of scripture, soliciting me to take it 
 for my subject : It may be found, Mark xiv. 10. The governour at- 
 tended, and after I had closed, took my hand with much cordiality, and 
 expressed himself well satisfied, and truly grateful. 
 
 September 14th, 1774, I again reached Boston. My friends had 
 long been expecting me, and I was received with demonstrations of 
 heart-felt joy. Through the greatest part of this autumn, I continued 
 preaching in the hall of the factory, in the mansion of my venerable friend, 
 and at Faneuil-Hall. Once I attempted to preach in Masons'- Hall ; 
 but the throng, and consequent confusion were so great, that I was ne- 
 cessitated to desist, even after I had worded my text : and finally, the 
 congregations still augmenting, I yielded to the pressing solicitations of 
 the proprietors of Mr. C 's meeting-house, and repeatedly deliv- 
 ered my testimony there. On the 31st of October, a gentleman, by the 
 name of Sargent, called upon me from Gloucester, urging me to accom- 
 pany him to his place of residence. My engagements would not allow 
 my immediate attendance, but I gave my word for an early compliance 
 with his wishes. November 2d, Wednesday evening, I named as the 
 subject of my public lecture, Luke 13th, from the 24th to the 30th. 
 After I had closed, a clergyman, of a respectable appearance, whom I 
 had never before seen, ascended the stairs of the pulpit, and addressed the 
 people to the following effect : " My friends, you have heard a groat deal 
 said, (for what purpose I know not,) which is calculated to lead you astray 
 from the true meaning of the text. The passage refers to the general 
 judgment, and to nothing else ; and all, that has been said, can only 
 originate wrong ideas of the scriptures ; for how can it be, that the Jews 
 should be intended by those, who were shut out ? When did the 
 Jews see Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of God ? or 
 how is it possible, that, if they should thus behold them, they could ever 
 be happy ? It is not possible, that any person, who dies in a state of un- 
 belief, should ever be happy to all eternity : and therefore, my brethren, 
 I would exhort you to take care you are not led astray by the words of 
 man's wisdom, and the cunning craftiness of men, whereby they lay in 
 wait to deceive. O I it is very dangerous to give heed to such things." 
 Thus the gentleman proceeded, earnestly warning the people, and then 
 
LIFE OF BET. JOHN MURRAY. 187 
 
 paused. Again I arose, saying : Now, this is well ; I like this. Hovr 
 infinitely preferable to secret calumny ; no bush-fighting here. And, 
 so much am I gratified by this ingenuous manner of dealing with me, 
 that it is with extreme reluctance I find it necessary to dissent from him 
 in opinion. Yet I must beg leave to observe : In the first place, the 
 gentleman must assuredly be wrong, in supposing the passage in question 
 refers to the general and final judgment. Do but attend to the concluding 
 verse : There are last, which shall be first, and first, which shall be last. 
 Surely, the toxt would not be thus worded, if the last judgment were de- 
 signed. The parable of the ten virgins illustrates this passage. Then 
 turning to the llth of Romans, I pointed out some particulars, which 
 are generally passed unnoticed ; and when I read, "for God hath in- 
 cluded them all in UNBELIEF, that he might have mercy upon all, my 
 opponent, rising, looked over ray shoulder, evidently to ascertain, if I 
 had given the genuine reading of the text ; upon which a lawyer, in the 
 assembly, exclaimed : " I advise you, sir, to retire, and read your Bi- 
 ble." I begged, we might not be interrupted ; and I affirmed, that my 
 antagonist was entitled to my cordial thanks, and that I devoutly wished 
 his example might be generally influential. I then proceeded to show, 
 that it was possible an individual might pass out of time, ignorant of God, 
 and yet be taught of God in that great day, when the books should be open- 
 ed. I read the last part of the 2 c 2d Psalm, making a few remarks thereon ; 
 and, after exhorting the audience to follow the example of the Bereans, I 
 paused for a reply. The gentleman affirmed, I had given an erroneous 
 view of the parable of the ten virgins; that it pointed outthe visible church- 
 and that the foolish virgins were the hypocrites : and he admonished, the 
 people to beware of false teachers, &c. &c. To which I replied, by pre- 
 suming the gentleman did not recollect, that ihe foolish virgins seemed to 
 be equally a part of the kingdom of heaven, with the wise virgins, other- 
 wise he would not so liberally have consigned them to the Devil. He would 
 have us believe, the kingdom of heaven is the visible church ; such are 
 the sentiments of His Holiness at Rome ; but, having abjured one Pope, 
 I trusted we should not again be brought into subjection to principles, 
 the propriety of which our hearts refused to acknowledge. 
 
 November 3d, I repaired to Gloucester, and was received by a few 
 very warm-hearted Christians. The mansion-house the heart, of 
 the then head of the Sargent family, with his highly accomplished, and 
 most exemplary lady, were open to receive me. I had travelled from 
 Maryland to New-Hampshire, without meeting a single individual, 
 who appeared to have the smallest idea" of what I esteemed the truth, 
 
188 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 as it is in Jesus ; but to my great astonishment, there were a few per- 
 sons, dwellers in that remote place, upon whom the light of the gospel 
 had more than dawned. The writings of Mr. Relly were not only in 
 their hands, but in their hearts. Four years previous to this period, an 
 Englishman, a Mr. Gregory, had brought with him those obnoxious 
 pages,and loaned them to this small circle of Gloucesterians,by whom they 
 had been seized with avidity ; the Father of their spirits rendered them 
 luminous to their understandings ; and it was in consequence of their 
 admiration of Mr. Relly, that, observing in the papers of the day, an 
 individual malignantly arraigned, as a preacher of Kelly's Gospel, they 
 delayed not to dispatch earnest solicitations for my presence among 
 them. In Gloucester, therefore, I passed my time most agreeably, 
 , until November 12th. The clergyman of the principal meeting-house, 
 being confined by illness, I was visited by the deacons and elders of 
 his church, and by them conducted to his house, after which I obtain- 
 ed permission to preach in his pulpit, which I several times did ; my 
 subjects 1 Cor. xi. 26. The good Samaritan. Isaiah xxviii. 16, &c. 
 Every day, and every evening was appropriated to the expounding of 
 the scriptures, in the spacious and well filled parlour of my new, and 
 highly respectable friend ; and I had reason to believe, that God most 
 graciously crowned my labours in this place, by giving to some bright- 
 er views, and inducing others to search the scriptures for themselves. 
 Every morning commenced, and every day closed, with prayer ; and, 
 with glad hearts, we delighted to hymn the praises of a redeeming God. 
 Taking a most affectionate leave of those very dear friends, on Satur- 
 day morning, accompanied by Mr. Sargent, 1 returned to Boston. 
 Upon the evenings of Sunday, and Wednesday, T again occupied the 
 pulpit of Mr. C ; and upon the evening of Wednesday, the audi- 
 ence were incommoded by a profusion of water, thrown over them, 
 and an egg was aimed at me in the pulpit, which however happened to 
 miss me. On Thursday a piece of slander was published in the paper 
 
 of the day, over the signature of Mr. C . He had before declared, 
 
 Jhe would print no more in the newspaper, so had I ; but, although he 
 had forfeited his word, I did not think proper to follow his example, 
 and I therefore addressed the following letter, to his private ear. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Some time since, being under the disagreeable necessity of replying 
 to a dull 'repetition of your abusive slanders ; and being persuaded, right 
 or wrong, you would have the last word, I assured the public I would 
 write no more in newspapers, so did you ; but your brilliant example 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 189 
 
 shall never influence me to undertake the vindication of my veracity, by 
 convincing the world I can lie. But as, in the close of your last per- 
 formance, you informed me and the public, that, if I thought myself 
 wronged, what had been asserted should be proved to my face, before 
 as large an auditory as I pleased ; I now, sir, take leave to say, I do 
 think myself most cruelly wronged, and I should rejoice in an oppor- 
 tunity of vindicating myself at the bar of the impartial public ; yes, I 
 should rejoice to see a very large audience collected : but, as I sup- 
 pose we shall not be able to procure any place, but the meeting-house 
 in School-street, I shall expect, if you be an honest man, to meet you 
 there. You commend a certain gentleman, who recently spoke to me 
 in that house so do I. He did not, like Solomon's fool, cast about 
 firebrands, arrows, and death, and say, Am I not in sport ? he spake 
 above-board, fair, and openly. I should be glad you would come 
 and do likewise only I request you will let me know in writing, bA 
 the bearer, when you will do this piece of common justice, to the cru- 
 elly, and most unwarrantably treated, 
 
 JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 This letter enraged him, and he sent it back, declaring he would have 
 nothing to do with me. But on the following Sunday evening, 
 
 when I repaired, as usual, to the meeting-house to preach, Mr. C 
 
 was upon the stairs of the pulpit, with a number of his violent adher- 
 ents, for the purpose of barring me out. Making no resistance, I re- 
 quested the gentleman might be heard with patient attention ; and si- 
 lence being obtained, Mr. C entered the pulpit, and declaimed for 
 
 a long time, with great bitterness ; accusing me of preaching damnable 
 doctrines, though he had never heard me preach ; but so he had beeu 
 informed, asserting, that I was one of Kelly's followers, and Relly be- 
 lieved all mankind would be saved ; and Relly was a blasphemer, and 
 denied the atonement ; and I was a Deist, and it was dangerous to al- 
 low me to speak : for I said once, in his hearing, that God loved the 
 Devil's children : and then, raising his voice, he vociferated, 4i It is a lie, 
 a lie, a lie, it is a damnable lie." Thus he went on alternately crying 
 out against me, and against Mr. Relly, damning my preaching, and his 
 writings, and exhorting the people to avoid me, &c. &c. When he had 
 concluded, he quitted the pulpit, and was passing out of the house as 
 speedily as possible. I requested him to stop ; but, observing he was 
 rapidly departing, I urgcfl the people to give me an opportunity of hav- 
 ing justice done me, by detaining my accusing adversary, that I might 
 defend myself in his presence ; and Mr.C was accordingly led into 
 
 AA 
 
190 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 H 
 
 a pew. I informed the audience, that I did indeed labour under great 
 difficulty. The person, to whom I was about to reply, was an old gen- 
 tleman, and a clergyman, both of which characters were indubitably 
 entitled to respect. Yet truth was, in my opinion, abundantly superior 
 to every other consideration ; it was beyond all price ; a gem, with which 
 its possessor should never part. I should therefore take leave to say, 
 
 Mr. C was very right, and very wrong. Right in condemning 
 
 damnable doctrines ; wrong in charging me with preaching those doc- 
 trines. Mr. C , I said, reminded me of Nero, who, to be revenged 
 
 upon the Christians, caught the city of Rome on fire, and charged the 
 
 Christians with that atrocious deed. Mr. C had dressed me in 
 
 bear's skins, and then set the dogs at me. He affirms, that I preach 
 damnable doctrines ! Suffer me to ask, What are damnable doctrines ? 
 Peter says, There shall arise false teachers among you, as there were 
 false prophets among the people, who shall privily bring in damnable 
 doctrines, even denying the Lord, who bought them. I appeal to this 
 audience. Did I ever deny the Lord, who bought you ? On the con- 
 trary, have I not borne constant testimony to this purchase ? Did you 
 ever hear me say, It made no difference, whether a man lived a good, or 
 a bad life ; was a believer, or an wibeliever ? Surely, it is highly incon- 
 sistent to rank me with the Deist, who utterly disowns the Redeemer, 
 when I am arraigned at this bar for believing there is no God out of 
 Christ, and that he, who is God, our Saviour, is all, and in all. Mr- 
 
 Relly is three thousand miles from this metropolis, Mr. C has 
 
 neither seen nor heard him. Blasphemy, of which Mr. C accu- 
 ses him, is no where to be found in his writings. These writings, give 
 me leave to say, will live, and be held in admiration, when ten thous- 
 and such characters as Mr. C 's and mine, will be consigned to 
 
 oblivion. Thus I went on. Mr. C again advanced to the pul- 
 pit ; reiterated what he had before asserted, without regarding a syl- 
 lable which I had uttered, until at length he interrogated : " Does God 
 love all the people in the world as well as Peter and Paul ?" Suffer 
 me, sir, first to ask you one question, which, if you will answer, then I 
 will reply to yours. Did God love Peter, and Paul, as well before they 
 believed as afterwards ? " God loved Peter, and Paul, from the founda- 
 tion of the world." Again, and again, I repeated my question, but 
 could not obtain a direct answer. The people from the galleries called 
 out, " Why do you not say yes, or no ?" but he refused thus to com- 
 mit himself, and of course I dropped the inquiry. Again he returned 
 to the charge. " Does God love all the people in the world, as well 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOII^I MURRAY. 191 
 
 as Peter, and Paul ?" Yes, sir, I believe He does, as well as He loved 
 those Apostles before they believed. " Do you believe God loves all 
 the people in the world ?" Yes, sir, I do. Then, again, he proceed- 
 ed most violently, and, that the heresy might be confirmed, he once 
 more questioned : " Do you believe, that God loves all the Devil's 
 children, as well as his own beloved ones ?" No, indeed ; I do not 
 think God loves any of the Devil's children. " There, there, now he 
 is hiding again." Suffer me, sir, to ask, What is it constitutes the 
 character of the wicked man ? " That is nothing to the purpose. 1 ' 
 
 Again I ask, what is it constitutes the character of the wicked man ? 
 Here several individuals tremulously asked : " Why do you not an- 
 swer the question ? we are all concerned in it, we are seeking informa- 
 tion." "Suppose I cannot ; let soms? one else answer, and, if I like it, I 
 
 will agree to it." No answer was given, and Mr. C resumed his 
 
 declamation, affirming, I had said, God loved the Devil's children. I 
 denied the charge, and was again accused of hiding, when I besought 
 the attention of the people, while 1 explained myself. What are we to 
 understand by a father, and a child, but begetter and begotten ? Can 
 you, Mr. C , or can any one present, presume to say, that the bo- 
 dies, or the souls of mankind, were begotten by the Devil ? Is not 
 God the Father of the spirits of all flesh ? Is not God the Maker of 
 our frames ? and doth not the Apostle say, we are all His offspring ? 
 If it be confessed, we all died in Adam, we were of course in Adam ; 
 and if we were in Adam, we were what Adam was. But the Evan- 
 gelist Luke affirms, that Adam was the son of God. We will next 
 inquire, Who are the children of the Devil, and who are the children of 
 God? I humbly conceive, Christ Jesus himself has put the matter be- 
 yond dispute, in the ever memorable parable of the Tares of the field, 
 and our obligation to the Redeemer, for explaining it so clearly to his 
 disciples, is indeed immeasurable. I then repeated the parable, and the 
 explanation ; and proved from thence, that the abominations of the 
 earth were the children of the Devil, because produced by him ; that 
 the iniquities of the people were the tares, sowed by the adversary ; 
 that our nature was the good seed, which Jesus sowed. A holy God 
 could not love sin, and, of course, could love no child of the Devil : 
 but men, being his offspring, He once loved them as his own, and hav- 
 ing loved His own, He loved them unto the end : that He had proved 
 this to all men, in the Gift of his Son ; God so loved the world, that He 
 
 gave them his Son. Mr. 4 C interrupted: " Nine tenths of all you 
 
 have said is nothing at all to the purpose :" and again, in terras the mosi 
 
192 LIFE OF RI^V. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 violent, he renewed his accusation, that I was all the time hiding. A 
 voice from the gallery exclaimed : " If he be hiding, why do you not 
 
 hunt him out of the bush ?" Mr. C at length tauntingly said s 
 
 " Come, come, leave off hiding, and tell the people, in plain english, 
 that God loves them all." To which I answered : I will, sir, in as 
 plain english, as I can command ; and then, addressing the congrega- 
 tion, I thus delivered the genuine sentiments of my soul : I am com- 
 missioned to say, to every individual before me, that God loves you, 
 and that you are not to accept this declaration upon my bare word ; you 
 have the word of a God, who cannot lie ; who proclaims Himself 
 loving unto every man ; who has given you proof positive of His love. 
 His love has been greatly manifested in your birth ; in rearing you from 
 infancy ; in guarding you through the devious paths of childhood, and 
 youth ; and preserving you from ten thousand dangers, to which you 
 have been exposed. His gracious providence, in so plentifully provi- 
 ding for you, is a proof of His love. Your civil, and religious liberties, 
 arc blessed proofs of the love of your God. These particulars announce 
 the love of Deity, to every individual, as a Creator, and Preserver. Yet 
 these manifestations may be considered as merely temporal : But, bles- 
 sed be the holy name of Jehovah ! I am authorized to add, and in plain 
 english too, that God loves the soul, which emanates from Himself, and 
 that He has proved this love by the gift of His son. God so loved the 
 world, that He gave them His son. To us a child is born, to us a Son 
 is given. God has evinced His love, by giving us, in this son, Recon- 
 cilia^ion, Regeneration, a new Head, a new Heart, a right Spirit. Here 
 your Creator so loved you, as to give you Wisdom, Righteousness, 
 Sanctification, and Redemption. In Christ Jesus, God has so loved you, 
 as to bless you with all spiritual blessings. Every individual should be- 
 lieve this, since it is nothing more than an accomplishment of the promise, 
 of the oath of Jehovah, which he swear unto Abraham, saying : And 
 in thy Seed shall all the nations, all the families of the earth, be blessed. 
 Such are the glad tidings, which the God, who loved you before the 
 foundation of the world, hath commanded us to proclaim to every one 
 of you ; such are the glad tidings, which you ought to believe. If your 
 heart tell you, It is not. so, believe it not, it is an unbeliving heart ; he, 
 that trusteth such a heart, is a fool. If the Devil tell you, It is not so, 
 believe him not, he was a liar from the beginning. If your ministers 
 tell you, You ought not to believe this good report, trust them not ; 
 they take part with the Devil, and your unbelieving hearts. The Devil 
 would persuade you, not to believe these glorions truths, because, if you 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 193 
 
 were delivered from his usurpation, you would henceforward serve your 
 Creator without fear. The arch fiend is solicitous to retain you in 
 bondage ; his utmost efforts are in requisition to prevent you from be- 
 lieving, that God has so loved you, as to purchase you with the price 
 of blood, of the precious blood of the Lamb of God ; he would pre- 
 vent you from believing, that you are bought with such a price, lest, 
 thus believing, you should render yourselves living sacrifices, holy, and 
 acceptable to God. But, let God be true, and every man a liar. Ye 
 are not your own, ye are bought with a price, and the love of Christ 
 constraineth us, because we thus judge, if One died for all, then were 
 all dead ; and that He died for all, that they, who live, should not hence- 
 forth live unto themselves, but unto Him, who died for them, and rose 
 again. 
 
 All the time I was speaking, Mr. C was kicking my legs, or 
 
 pulling the skirts of my garment, ever and anon vociferating : " Have 
 done, have done ; you have said enough ; quite enough," &c. &c. 
 Sometimes he stood up close to my side, shouldering me as hard as he 
 was able. The congregation noticed his behaviour, arid it did not give 
 them pleasure. For myself, I had much cause for gratitude to my di- 
 vine Master : 1st, that he was pleased to give me words ; and 2dly, 
 that he did not suffer me to lose my self-command. No, not for an in- 
 stant. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 
 
 My next evening lecture was uninterrupted ; but, on the succeeding 
 Sunday evening, the throng was so prodigious, that it was with much' 
 difficulty I reached the pulpit ; and when entered, I was nearly suffo- 
 cated by the strong effluvia, arising from the asafoetida, with which the 
 tools of the adversary had wet the pulpit and the pulpit cloth, plenti- 
 fully sprinkling the whole house with the same noxious drug. For some 
 moments I was so much overpowered, as to induce an apprehension, 
 that it would be impossible I should proceed ; but the God of my life 
 was abundantly sufficient for me. The demons of confusion were, 
 however, not quite satisfied ; many stones were violently thrown into 
 the windows; yet no one received any other injury, than the alarm, 
 which was created. At length, a large rugged stone, weighing about a 
 pound and a half, was forcibly thrown in at the window behind my 
 back ; it missed me. Had it sped, as it was aimed, it must have finish- 
 ed me. Lifting it up, and waving it in the view of the people, I obser- 
 ved : This argument is solid, and weighty, but it is neither rational, 
 nor convincing. Exclamations, from various parts of the house, were 
 echoed, and re-echoed : " Pray, sir, 4eave the pulpit, -your life is at 
 
194 l-IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 hazard." Be it so, I returned, the debt of nature must be paid, and 1 
 am as ready, and as willing, to discharge it now, as I shall be fifty 
 years hence. Yet, for your consolation, suffer me to say, I am immor- 
 tal, while He who called me into existence has any business for me to 
 perform ; and when He has executed those purposes, for which He 
 designed me, He will graciously sign my passport to realms of blessed- 
 ness. With your good leave, then, I will pursue my subject, and 
 while I have a THUS SAITH THE LORD for every point of doctrine 
 which I advance, not all the stones jn Boston, except they stop my 
 breath, shall shut my mouth, or arrest my testimony. The congrega- 
 tion was, as I have said, astonishingly large ; but order and silence were 
 gradually restored, and I had uncommon freedom in the illustration, 
 and defence of those sacred truths, which will be ultimately triumph- 
 ant. Two or three succeeding lecture evenings were unmolested, 
 when the business of stoning me in the pulpit, was again resumed ; 
 my friends were in terror, and, after I had closed, forming a strong 
 phalanx around me, they attended me home. Many religious people 
 were violent in their opposition ; they insisted that I merited the sever- 
 est punishment ; that the old discipline for Heretics ought to be put in 
 force, and I was thus furnished with abundant reason to bless God for 
 the religious liberty of the country of my adoption, else racks and tor- 
 tures, would have been put in operation against me, nor would these 
 holy men, moved by the spirit, have stopped short of my destruction. 
 Yet was the charge of heresy never proved against me. I was never 
 silenced either by reason or scripture I had called upon men every 
 where, clergymen, or laymen, to step forward, and convict me of error ; 
 promising, solemnly promising, immediately upon conviction, to relin- 
 quish the obnoxious tenet, whatever it might chance to be, and to adopt 
 that better way, which would, in such an event, become luminous 
 before me. Truth, and gratitude, originates the confession, that in 
 all circumstances, I have hitherto had reason to bless the God of my 
 life, who hath promised He will be with me to the end of the world, 
 and that all things shall work together for good. Amen, and amen. 
 
OF REV. JOHfl MURRAY. 195 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 .Summary Record of Events, from January, 1775, to October, 1809. 
 
 Amid the haunts of memory let me stray, 
 As duty, love, and friends hip point the way ; 
 With hand of diligence, and humid eye, 
 The faithful record tearfully supply. 
 
 the beloved Preacher had continued his narrative. The 
 Editor fondly calculating upon assistance, which she believed 
 herself authorized to expect, pledged herself to continue the sketch, 
 even to the closing scene. But, alas ! disappointed in her cherished 
 hopes, she stands alone. Her health is broken, her spirits are depress- 
 ed, and she is advanced in life ; yea, doubtless, she is inadequate to the 
 performance. of her promise But she remembers that this volume is 
 addressed only to the friends of the dear departed, and she mournfully 
 proceeds to its completion. 
 
 Upon December 14, 1774, Mr. Murray again visited Gloucester ; 
 the numerous family of the Sargents, then seated in that place, em- 
 braced in almost all its branches, the truth as it is in Jesus, and their 
 attachment to him, whom they believed an ambassador of the Redeem- 
 er, was proportioned to their zeal. Many respectable names were 
 added, and a little congregation was collected, who seemed to have 
 among them but one heart, and one soul. Like the primitive Chris- 
 tians, they assembled daily, and they continued from house to house 
 worshipping the only true God their Saviour. On recurrence to the 
 journal of the Preacher, we find a memorandum, written upon his 
 second visit to Gloucester, which is thus worded : " Here my God 
 grants me rest from my toils, here I have a taste of heaven. The new 
 song is sung here, and WORTHY is THE LAMB constantly dwells upon 
 their tongues." Mr. Chandler's meeting-house was not closed against 
 the Promulgator of glad tidings, until some time in January, 1775, 
 upon the 20th of which month he made a second journey to Newbury- 
 port and Portsmouth. Those who had adhered to him in those 
 towns, having ascertained that he absolutely believed the final restitu- 
 tion of all things, united with the many in the most unqualified cen- 
 sure. But the friends he had lost, particularly in Portsmouth, were 
 replaced by many others, among whom we find the names of Judge 
 and Sheriff Parker, Atjunson, Wentworth, Austin, Warner, Sheafe, 
 Langdon, Sewall, Brackett, Whipple, Thompson, Turner, Gardner, 
 ^ r assey, Jackson, &c. &c. The heaven-instructed preacher continued 
 
196 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 many years an occasional visitor in Portsmouth, where his labours 
 were greatly blessed, and when other pulpits were closed against him 
 in that metropolis, the doors of the Episcopal Church was open for his 
 reception. But after he had. repeatedly lectured in that church, a few 
 persons appeared in opposition, and we have this moment under our 
 eye, an original writing, addressed to the Promulgator upon this occa- 
 sion ; we transcribe a verbatim copy. " Whereas it is represented that 
 some objections have been made by one, or more persons, belonging 
 to the Church called Queen's Chapel, against the doors thereof being 
 opened, for the admission of Mr. John Murray to preach the Gospel ; 
 Wherefore, we the subscribers, proprietors, and parishioners of the 
 Church aforesaid, having taken the same into consideration Do (in 
 order to remove any difficulties that might arise in that gentleman's 
 breast in consequence of such objections) hereby fully declare our free 
 will, and consent, that the said Church be opened at ALL TIMES, when- 
 ever it may be convenient for him to perform divine service in town, 
 more especially during his present stay ; and, instead of deeming it an 
 indulg* nee granted him, we shall, on the contrary, acknowledge it a 
 favour conferred on us, in his acceptance of this invitation. Ports- 
 mouth, May 24, 1781.'* Signed by twenty-four of the leading mem- 
 bers of the Church in Portsmouth. Our Preacher was also made 
 the instrument of irradiating the mind of an exemplary Philanthropist, 
 Mr. Noah Parker, now in regions of blessedness, who was so deeply 
 penetrated, as to present himself a servant of the living God, a volun- 
 tary Preacher of the Gospel. A convenient house was raised for his 
 use, by the brethren in Portsmouth, and he continued, until his de- 
 parture out of time, a zealous and able minister of the Reconciliation. 
 
 Attached to the Gloucesterians, Mr. Murray once more believed he 
 had found a permanent residence ; yet, although he consented to con- 
 sider that place as his home ; he did not relinquish the persuasion that 
 his commission obliged him to go forth a preacher of the Gospel, wherev- 
 er, and whenever, the providence of God might seem to direct him. 
 The inveteracy of his enemies in the town of Gloucester, was in full 
 proportion to the attachment of his friends, and every mean of annoy- 
 ance was in requisition. The spirit of liberty mounted very high in 
 Gloucester, and for the purpose of influencing the ignorant, the teacher 
 was proclaimed a PAPIST, sent out by Lord North, to aid the punvse 
 of an obnoxious ministry ; anathemas, and sometimes stones, followed 
 his steps as he passed the streets ; a town-meeting was called, the aim 
 of which (lest the friends of the promulgator should take the alarm) was 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 197 
 
 most illegally shrouded in silence, and a vote was thus surreptitiously 
 obtained, that he should forthwith depart from the borders of Glouces- 
 ter ; of this vote he was advertised by an officer let us not say of jus- 
 tice. Still, however, he continued witnessing both to small and great, 
 what Moses and the prophets had testified, concerning Jesus of Naza- 
 reth, that he died for our sins, and rose again for our justification. The 
 most unwarrantable means were employed, old slanders were resuscita- 
 ted, and new accusations brought forward ; tales which had been re- 
 peatedly confuted, were new garbed, and sent abroad, swelling the 
 bosom of integrity with unutterable anguish. Among countless other 
 calumnies which were afloat, a story was embellished, and published, 
 originally propagated by one Maxwell, wherein the preacher, the lover 
 of the Redeemer, is represented as treating the Eucharist in a ludicrous 
 manner ! although the gentleman Mr, afterwards General Greene, at 
 whose house, and in whose presence, the irreverent profanation was 
 said to have taken place had written to Doctor S and others, com- 
 pletely exonerating the accused. Mr. Murray's sentiments upon the 
 sacred and consolatory ordinance of the Lord's Supper, are explained 
 and expatiated upon, in his Letters and Sketches of Sermons, to which 
 the interested reader is referred. It cannot be denied, that characters 
 generally respectable, combined to stimulate the mob to the most des- 
 perate measures, but every unwarrantable project was frustrated. The 
 doors of the meeting-house being now closed, the parlours of respectable 
 friends bocame the places of assembling, until at length a spacious 
 room was consecrated for that purpose. Letters of excommunication 
 were now addressed, by the established Minister, to seventeen of the 
 most respectable Church members, and this, for their attachment to the 
 Gospel of God our Saviour. While others, availing themselves of a 
 Provincial Law, endeavoured to expel the Ambassador of their God, 
 as a Vagrant. To meet, and obviate which difficulty, the kind friend 
 under whose especial patronage he then was, presented him with a deed 
 of gift, which constituted him a freeholder in Gloucester. The months 
 of March and April, in this year, were, by the Preacher, devoted to vis- 
 iting his friends in Boston, and various parts of Rhode Island, and 
 toward the close of April, he returned to his highly favoured home, 
 rejoicing that the zeal, and attachment of the Gloucesterians, were 
 nothing diminished, and their meetings for scriptural investigations were 
 joyfully resumed. In the month of May, 1775, the leading officers 
 of the Rhode Island Brigade, assembled in the neighbourhood of Bos- 
 ton, despatched a respectable messenger, with a letter, soliciting the 
 
 BB 
 
198 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 attendance of the Promulgator, as chaplain to their detachment of tin- 
 Revolutionary Army. We transcribe a verbatim copy of this letter. 
 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " AMIDST that concurrence of events which the great Creator in infi- 
 nite wisdom directs, for the accomplishment of his own purposes, a 
 British armament hath set hostile foot upon American ground. What 
 the design of the Almighty may be, we cannot at present absolutely 
 determine. One thing we know, our cause is just, and also that the 
 Parent of the universe can do no wrong. An army hath been raised 
 in this Colony, which is now stationed upon Jamaica Plains, in Rox- 
 bury, and that this army may do honour to themselves, and the cause in 
 which they are embarked, it is requisite, propriety of manners, regularity 
 of conduct, and a due reliance upon the Almighty controller of events, 
 should be cultivated and enforced. The most probable human means 
 we can devise to effect an object so ardently to be desired, consist in a 
 decent, sincere, and devout attendance, at opportune seasons, upon 
 divine worhip. We have, therefore, selected you, as a Chaplain to 
 our Brigade, well convinced that your extensive benevolence, and abili- 
 ties, will justify our choice. We cannot, without doing violence to the 
 opinion we have formed of your character, doubt of your ready com- 
 pliance with our united request. The support you will receive shall 
 exactly correspond with your feelings, and your wishes. We are, dear 
 
 sir, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Signed in behalf of the Brigade, 
 
 J. N. VARNUM. 
 May 24, 1775. 
 
 A persuasion that he could be of more use in the army, than else- 
 where, would not allow the Preacher to balance, and, accordingly re- 
 signing the calm recess of friendship, he presented himself in the Amer- 
 ican camp, and, " armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son," he 
 was indeed most ardently engaged. The scene, however, was not 
 calculated to give pleasure to a philanthropist. In a memorandum of 
 this date, he thus expresses himself : " My troubles have recom- 
 menced ; I am now indeed in the world, and shall doubtless encounter 
 tribulation ; I am associated with an ungovernable set of people. It 
 is true, the ofticers are gentlemen, and call into action every effort to 
 strengthen my hands ; but the soldiers alas 1 the fact is, I am not in 
 my own company." Upon the 3d of July, the chaplain accompanied 
 a detachment of the Brigade, to compliment General Washington, upon 
 his arrival to take the supreme command of the army at Cambridge ; 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 199 
 
 and he was received by the immortal chief, with that urbanity which he 
 so well knew to practise. The subject of the first sermon, preached on 
 sabbath morning at the Camp, Jamaica Plains, was Psalm xliv. 1,2, 3, 
 and upon the evening of the same day, the last verse of the same Psalm. 
 The Preacher was engaged occasionally at Jamaica Plains, and on 
 Prospect Hill. Every morning at 7 o'clock, he met the several Regi- 
 ments upon the parade ; gradually the habits of swearing and the rough 
 manners of the soldiery, yielded to the Christianized eloquence of their 
 Chaplain, and his success in the army was indeed most wonderful. His 
 benevolence, and benignity while there, is storied by many a tongue, 
 we indulge ourselves by selecting an instance, which did not reach our 
 ears, until since his decease. A detachment of the army were ordered 
 to march, a river was to be forded, a poor soldier in years, and strug- 
 gling with sickness, was tottering under his burden : the preacher in- 
 stantly accoutred himself with the knapsack, arms, and cartouch box, 
 and, thus arrayed, proceeded on, while the sufferer disencumbered, pas- 
 sed lightly over. The writer of this sketch, could furnish a series of 
 similar anecdotes; often, when his finances have been at the lowest ebb, 
 and the prodigious expense of living has produced distressing embar- 
 rassments, she has seen him extend to the necessitous, an extricating 
 hand, and he not only indulged, and cherished, but invariably stimula- 
 ted every charitable purpose of her soul. 
 
 General Washington, honoured the preacher with marked, and uni- 
 form attention ; the Chaplains of the army united in petitioning the 
 Chief, for the removal of the promulgator of glad tidings ; the answer 
 was handed them, in the general orders of the ensuing day, which ap- 
 pointed Mr. John Murray, Chaplain of the three Rhode Island Regi- 
 ments, with a command from his Excellency, GEORGE WASHINGTON, 
 that he should be respected accordingly. Mr. Murray's commission 
 was made out, and delivered to him, when inclosing it in a respectfully 
 polite letter of thanks, he returned it to the noble minded Chief, earnest- 
 ly requesting permission to continue in the army, as a volunteer. Gen- 
 eral Washington, after perusing, folded the paper, and observed : " Mr. 
 Murray is a young man now, he will live to be old, and repentance 
 will be the companion of his age." The preacher lived to see this pre- 
 diction fulfilled. Had he embraced the rich opportunity then present- 
 ed he might have continued in the family of General Greene, whose 
 friendship was unbroken, and where his abode was hailed as a distin- 
 guishing favour, his daily ratio would have augmented for his emolu- 
 ment, his salary would have accumulated, he would have retired upon 
 
200 1IFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 half pay, or commutation, and, during the years of languor, and de- 
 crepitude, he might have commanded his own carriage, and servants , 
 but the reader must have seen, that the preacher was accustomed to 
 withdraw from the approaches of affluence. 
 
 Mr. Murray continued in the army so long as his health would per- 
 mit, but being violently seized by an indisposition, which terminated 
 in a bilious fever that precipitated him to the gates of the grave, he was. 
 by the Physician of the Brigade, conducted to Gloucester ; and no 
 sooner was his health re-established, than his strongest feelings were 
 powerfully excited, by the sufferings of the sons and daughters of want 
 J n that town. War of any description, is particularly oppressive to its 
 inhabitants, seated upon the margin of the ocean, their subsistence is 
 principally derived from the deep. The rich sources of Commerce, 
 thrown open by the genial hand of peace, become, to the hardy, and en- 
 terprizing Gioucesterian, legitimate objects of pursuit ; and his uniform, 
 and industrious efforts, are crowned by competency. But whatever ob- 
 structs his adventurous plans, inevitably involves him in distress, and the 
 period to which we advert was, perhaps, the most gloomy of any during 
 the revolutionary war. It had continued long enough to try without 
 familiarizing or indurating the feelings, and hope had almost become 
 the victim of despair. The humane preacher surveyed those multiplied 
 children of penury and he surveyed them with a philanthropic eye ; 
 nor was this all commencing a journey in the depth of a severe Win- 
 ter, he addressed the general officers in the American army, beginning 
 with their revered Chief, and extending his application to many other 
 gentlemen, whose confidence, and whose friendship he enjoyed. He 
 -addressed to those distinguished individuals, the voice of supplication, 
 and so successful was his embassy, that he returned to Gloucester with 
 a large sum of money, which he converted into rice, meal, and molasses, 
 rendering a scrupulous account to the selectmen, and praying them to 
 recommend such persons, as were proper objects of this providential 
 bounty ; the whole was punctually distributed, and many sufferers 
 most essentially relieved. Yet on the 27th day of February, in the 
 succeeding year, 1777, we find this same feeling solicitor, summoned 
 from the house of a friend, Mr. Winthrop Sargent, where he was suf- 
 fering from indisposition, and arraigned at the bar, of the then commit- 
 tee of safety, for the town of Gloucester. Some gentlemen councelled 
 him to disregard the summons, especially as the whole committee were 
 not assembled, and those who were collected, were decidedly his in- 
 veterate enemies, but he answered, that possessing a consciousness of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 201 
 
 innocence, he could not fear the face of man. The following account 
 of the extraordinary proceeding which ensued, is from the minutes of a 
 gentleman, who was an ear witness of the scene. The chairman of the 
 committee opened the business. " We have sent for you, to know 
 who you are, and from whence you came ?" " Your question is rather 
 difficult, sir, I hardly know how to answer you, do you mean where did 
 I come from last ?" " I say where did you come from." " I have 
 been in various places in this country sir." " I say where did you 
 come from when you came into this country ?" " From England." 
 " From what part of England ?" " London." " What business had 
 you to come to this country ?" " Business, sir ! I felt disposed to 
 come, and came " " What business have you in this town ?" " The 
 same as I have in every town where I happen to sojourn." Here one 
 of the committee, arose, and requesting leave to speak, which was gran- 
 ted, said : " I conceive we have sent for this man to know from whence 
 he came, who he is, and what business he has here ; this is a time of 
 difficulty, we are at variance with England, he calls himself an En- 
 glishman, we do not know what he is. He associates with a great 
 many, whom we look upon as enemies to this country, and they go to 
 hear him, converse I think I cannot call it preaching" Here Mr. 
 Murray would have spoken, but he was imperiously, not to say impu- 
 dently commanded to be silent, and his accuser proceeded, until at 
 length the chairman again resumed : " Where did you come from ? 
 We want to know where you were born, and brought up ?" Mr. 
 Murray answered. " Gentlemen, it is not my wish to give you un- 
 necessary trouble. I was born in England, shortly after I had attained 
 my eleventh year, I accompanied my father to Ireland, where I contin- 
 ued many years under his care ; when I was between 19 and 20, I re- 
 turned to England, where I abode, living generally in London, until I 
 quitted it for this country. Since I came into this country, my resi- 
 dence has been in Maryland, Pennsylvania, the Jerseys, New- York, 
 Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New-Hampshire." 
 " What did you come into this country for ?" " In pursuit of retire- 
 ment, but concurrent circumstances rendered me a preacher." " Have 
 you any credentials ?" " Yes sir." " Show them." I have none 
 present, there are many in this town who have heard me, arid received 
 my testimony ; they arc my credentials. " Ay, that is nothing you 
 see he has no authority.' How could you think of preaching without 
 authority ?" " When I came into this country there was no war, I 
 believed it to be a land of civil, and religious liberty every charter. 
 
202 LIFE OP KEY. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and every Law made among yourselves, breathed a spirit of toleration, 
 I felt assured I should be allowed liberty of conscience, my intentions 
 were upright ; a conviction that God had ordained me to proclaim the 
 go-pel, has been powerfully impressed upon my mind, and I am still 
 convinced, that I ought to preach the Gospel." " How long do you 
 intend to stay in this town ?" " I do not precisely know ; but certain- 
 ly until the weather and roads shall be good." " The weather will do, 
 and it is pretty good travelling now." (At this time the winter having 
 been extremely severe, the roads were nearly impassable.) " I do not 
 believe I shall quit Gloucester until April, about that time I expect to 
 commence a journey to Philadelphia." " The town is very uneasy 
 at your continuance here, and we are a committee of safety. We are 
 to take up all strangers and send them out of town." " Sir, I have al- 
 ready been warned out of town, and if you be apprehensive of my be- 
 coming a charge, I can procure bonds." One of the committee ad- 
 dressed the chair for liberty to speak, which having obtained, he said : 
 " Your stay in this town, is cause of uneasiness to many, you hurt the 
 morals of the people, and a great many who hear you are enemies to 
 the country." Mr. Murray responded " Those who hear me, and 
 believe what I deliver, can never be injured in their morals." " I do 
 not believe you." " You have not heard all I have said in defence of 
 my persuasion." " I have heard enough, I neither believe, nor like it" 
 " Well, sir, there is no act of assembly to compel you to hear ; but you 
 should remember your neighbour is entitled to equal liberty with your- 
 self." " You deliver very erroneous principles." " My principles are 
 all to be found in the sacred records of divine truth." " Ay, so you 
 say." " I was not apprized that I was cited before a spiritual court." 
 Mr. Murray then addressed the chair " Sir, this gentleman asserts that 
 I associate with a great many enemies of this country. I demand that 
 they be pointed out. If I associate with an individual of this de- 
 scription, it is unknown to me." A gentleman at the chairman's elbow 
 observed : " Mr. chairman, I think we have no business to answer this 
 man a single question, we did not send for him to answer his questions, 
 but to ask questions of him." The chairman then repeated, that the 
 town were very uneasy, and advised Mr. Murray to depart to prevent 
 further trouble, to which he answered. " Sir, I have been nearly seven 
 years in this country, perhaps no one has a more extensive acquaintance, 
 I have many friends, and many enemies. I feel that I am a friend to 
 all mankind, and I am happy that no circumstance of my life can prove 
 the contrary. I was invited to this town, and 1 have been cordially 
 received, but it seems I am suspected, because I associate with many 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 203 
 
 who are enemies to this country. I associate with Captain W. S.. 
 pray is he an enemy. During my residence in this place, I have never 
 heard a syllable uttered - w \ich this committee ought to consider as rep- 
 rehensible. I am not acquainted with a single individual who appears 
 to me an enemy to this country ; two or three worthy characters I 
 know, who do not perfectly approve every measure which has been 
 adopted. I have recently endeavoured to recollect how many gentle- 
 men, the circle of my connexions from Maryland to New Hampshire 
 contained, who were suspected of being unfriendly to the present order 
 of things, and I could number but five persons, not an individual of 
 whom has ever been proved inimical to American prosperity. For 
 myself, I rejoice in the reflection, that I am a staunch friend to liberty, 
 genuine liberty. It is well known that I have laboured to promote the 
 cause of this country, and I rejoice that I have not laboured in vain. 
 I am so well known, and I have the happiness to be so well respected, 
 that his Excellency, General Washington, appointed me to officiate as 
 Chaplain to several Regiments. I should have imagined this fact w r otild 
 have been sufficient CREDENTIALS HERB. I have injured no person 
 in this town, I am invited to meet my friends, in the house of a friend, 
 where they desire me to read the Bible, to comment thereon, and to 
 unite with them in solemn prayer to Almighty God, for the continuance 
 of his mercies to us, as a people, and not unto us only, but to a once 
 lost, and now redeemed world." A member of the committee observ- 
 ed, that they could not be answerable for any thing that might be done 
 by a MOB, and, it was not in their power to prevent it, if he did not, 
 without delay, leave the town. Mr. Murray laying his spread hand 
 upon his breast, answered : " Sir, I feel such a consciousness of inno- 
 cence here, that I know not what it is to fear. It is with perfect com- 
 posure that I commit myself to God, and the Laws of this Common- 
 wealth. If I have broken any law, let me be punished by law ; but 
 I bless God I am not a lawless person. Sir, I am a stranger to fear, I 
 have committed no action worthy of punishment. Sir, I know not 
 what it is to fear. No man can have any power over me, except it be 
 given to him from above, no injury can be done me, but by the permis- 
 sion of my God. But I am not afraid : the worst this MOB can do, is 
 to deprive me of a life, which I have been many years quite willing to 
 resign. Sir, I commit myself, and my cause to the Ruler of Heaven, 
 and of Earth." One gentleman observed, that the rule upon Earth was 
 delegated to them, or words to that effect when Mr. Murray replied : 
 * Sir, I conceive the God of Heaven is the only Ruler in Heaven above; 
 
204 'LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and in Earth beneath" and, addressing the chair he added : " Sir, 1 
 have answered every question you have thought proper to ask and a* 
 I find it difficult to speak, I am so very ill, ^,,ill take leave to wish 
 you a good evening. Gentlemen, good night" when, without inter- 
 ruption, he departed. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! how tyrannical is the dominion of prejudice ! in this 
 instance it precipitated men, respectable men, who in the common oc- 
 currences of life, had uniformly preserved a decent reputation, upon a 
 procedure the most absurd and unwarrantable. Interrogations so un- 
 ceremoniously made, to a person, who, as the almoner of his God, had 
 ihe preceding year, fed large numbers of their almost famished poor, 
 who had never committed any act of violence, or discovered the small- 
 est inclination to aid the enemies of the new world, was, as we trust, 
 a singular outrage. But Mr. Murray was a Christian, and after the 
 way that they called heresy, so worshipped he the God of his fathers, 
 he could not therefore be allowed to merit either confidence or grati- 
 tude. 
 
 On the Christmas day of 1780, Mr. Murray first preached in . small, 
 neat building, erected for his use, by the Gloucesterians. His adherents, 
 associated for public worship, had, as they believed, organized them- 
 selves, and solemnly covenanting together, they conceived themselves 
 an INDEPENDENT CHURCH of CHRIST. A writing was prepared, signed 
 by every individual of the congregation, in which, after dilating upon 
 the fundamental principles of the faith they had embraced, they profess- 
 ed to acknowledge, as Christians, no Master but Jesus Christ, receiv- 
 ing as their guide in spiritual matters, only the word and spirit of the 
 Redeemer ; but they pledged themselves to the community at large, 
 and to each other, to yield obedience to every ordinance of man, to be 
 peaceable and obedient subjects to the powers ordained of God in all 
 civil cases. But as subjects of that King, whose kingdom is not of this 
 world ; they denied the right of any human authority to make laws for 
 the regulation or their consciences ; they rejoiced in the liberty where- 
 with Christ had made them free, and they determined no more to be 
 entangled by any yoke of bondage. They professed a disposition to 
 live peaceably with all men, to avoid unnecessary disputation ; and, 
 should they be reviled, to endeavour in patience to possess their souls. 
 We make from this solemn instrument the following extract. 
 
 " As an INDEPENDENT CHURCH OF CHRIST thus bound together by 
 the cords of His love, and meeting together in His name, we mutually 
 agree to receive as our Minister, that is, our servant, sent to labour 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 205 
 
 amongst us, in the work of the Gospel, by the great Lord of the Vine- 
 yard, our friend and brother JOHN MURRAY. This we do, from a full 
 conviction, that the same God, who sent the first preachers of Jesus 
 Christ, sent him ; and that the same Gospel they preached we have 
 from time to time received from him. Thus, believing him a Minister 
 of the New Testament, constantly declaring the whole counsel of 
 God, proclaiming the same divine truth that all God's holy prophets 
 from the beginning of the world have declared ; we cordially receive 
 him as a messenger from God. And as it hath pleased God to open a 
 great, and effectual door, for the preaching of His Gospel, by this His 
 servant, in sundry parts of this great continent ; whenever it shall please 
 hisj and our divine Master, to call him to preach the everlasting Gos- 
 pel elsewhere, we will wish him God speed ; and pray that the good 
 will of Him, who dwelt in the bush, may accompany him, and make his 
 way clear before him." 
 
 Thus, we repeat, the little congregation in Gloucester considered 
 themselves an INDEPENDENT CHURCH OF CHRIST. They were con- 
 scioug that they had, in every instance, demeaned themselves as good 
 citizens, and that their utmost efforts had uniformly been embodied, 
 for the advancement of the public weal ; they felt themselves deservedly 
 invested with the privileges and immunities of free citizens, entitled to 
 those liberties, with which God and nature had endowed them, and which 
 they believed to be secured to them by a constitution of government, 
 happily established by the people of this commonwealth. Dissenting 
 essentially from the doctrines taught by the established minister, they 
 had borne an early testimony against his settlement ; and they humbly 
 hoped, it would be sufficient for them to believe the HOLY SCRIPTURES, 
 and to adopt the pure system of morals contained therein, as the rule of 
 their conduct, and the MAN OF THEIR COUNSEL. They rejoiced in the 
 liberty of free inquiry, guaranteed by the strong arm of government ; 
 and they felicitated themselves, that they had been ushered into being 
 at a time, when that fearful period had gone by, which, arming the 
 Religionist with the potent vengeance of civil authority, wrapped the 
 whole world in a cloud of impenetrable darkness, debilitated the human 
 intellect, by closing the door of free inquiry, and gave birth to eight 
 hundred years of ignorance, and barbarism, unequalled by any preced- 
 ing era ; whence arose an awful chasm in the history of the world, and 
 men ceased to think, 'because thinking was a crime. The Gloucesteri- 
 ans adopted the idea of a respectable writer, who considered Ordination 
 as nothing more than the solemn putting a man into his place, and 
 
LI KB OH REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 office in the Church, a right to which he had obtained by previous 
 election, which, together with iiis voluntary acceptance of such election, 
 became a legitimate base, upon which was founded the relationship 
 between pastor and flock. Thus, as the word ORDAIN signifies no 
 more than to APPOINT, they conceived that the election, and not the lay- 
 ing on of hands, completed the ordination. Reposing upfjn the second 
 and third article in the declaration of rights, the Gloucesterians exult- 
 ingly said : " No subject shall be hurt, molested, or restrained in his 
 person, liberty, or estate, for worshipping God in the manner, and 
 season, most agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience ; or for his 
 religious profession or sentiments, provided he doth not disturb the 
 public peace, or obstruct others in their religious worship. All re- 
 ligious societies shall, at all times, have the exclusive right of electing 
 their public teachers, and of contracting with them for their support 
 and maintenance. And all monies paid by the subject to the support 
 of public worship, shall, if he require it, be uniformly applied to the 
 support of the public teacher, or teachers, of his own religious sect or 
 denomination, provided there be any on whose instwction he attends" 
 But while the Gloucesterians were confidingly singing a requiem to 
 their cares, they beheld, to their great astonishment, and no small dis- 
 may, their goods seized by an officer, and sold at auction, for the 
 purpose of answering the demands of the established minister. Arti- 
 cles of plate from one, English goods from another, and, from a third, 
 the anchor of a vessel, on the point of sailing. 
 
 It was, as we believe, in the autumn of 1782, that this act of violence 
 look place. An action was instituted by the independent church of 
 Christ in Gloucester. Mr. Murray was urged to allow the prosecution 
 to proceed in his name. His reluctance to this step was decided and 
 affecting. He had passed through the country without even allowii , 
 or accepting, contributions ; and, to be considered a prosecutor for 
 monies, said to be due to him, for preaching the gospel, which ho had 
 determined to promulgate free as the light of heaven ! the very idea 
 was a stab to his long cherished feelings : it appeared to him like pros- 
 trating the integrity of his character, and stripping him of those honours, 
 which he had fondly hoped would remain forever unshorn. The situation 
 of his mind, upon this occasion, may be gathered from two extracts of 
 letters, addressed to him by a respectable gentleman : " You know the 
 inducement I had to engage in this cause was to be emancipated from 
 the shackles of a pontificate ; and my aversion was ever determined, 
 from having the suit brought in your name, as well from your abhor- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 207 
 
 rencc, as that the result, however favourable, would not establish us 
 upon the broad base of genuine freedom. However, I am now con- 
 vinced from reflection, that our cause will be ruined, unless you assume 
 it. Mr. Hitchborne was clear it ought to have been in your name be- 
 fore; at our pressing request, he drew the last writ. Mr. Sullivan has 
 declared it must be in your name. Mr. Pynchon (allowed on ail 
 hands to be deeply versed in the intricacies of the law) assured a gen- 
 tleman, he would warrant success, and even undertake the conducting 
 the cause, if the proper use were made of your name. Mr. Sewall's 
 opinion is in unison with Mr. Pynchon. I hate delay and indecision, 
 and shall lament if chicane and political views must prevail over the 
 purest intentions." 
 
 To this letter Mr. Murray responded, in terms descriptive of much 
 anguish of spirit, and his sympathizing friend immediately replied : 
 
 " I essay not to communicate the impression which your letter has 
 made upon me ; would that pen and paper were adequate to express 
 all that could be conveyed by the tongue. Shall t be condemned for 
 being of an unsteady disposition, or shall I be justified in my change 
 of sentiment, from the variety of events ? Be it as it may, it matters 
 not; your letter has produced another alteration in my mind ; your con- 
 flict between the resolution you have taken, and the interest of your 
 friends, which, I am persuaded, is very dear to you, is carried on in 
 your breast to a degree of agony. I see how distressing it is for you, 
 even in appearance, to stand forth and contend for what you have so 
 nobly held in sovereign contempt. In this point of view it ceases to be 
 a question. Let the idea of interest perish ; I had rather a large part 
 of mine, dear as it is, should be wrested from me, than that you should 
 sacrifice any portion of your peace, or your honour ; therefore, I en- 
 treat you, my dear sir, do no violence to your feelings. Thank God, 
 the truth of our cause does not depend upon the decision of a court of 
 judicature ; and admit the worst, it is only what we are bidden to ex- 
 pect, that this world is opposed to the other. Justice, however, not- 
 withstanding my sympathy for you, urges me to repeat that our lawyers 
 see no rational prospect of success, but from your becoming a PRINCI- 
 PAL in the business. If you can bend your mind, well ; take time to 
 deliberate : delays in law, perhaps, are not so dangerous as in other 
 affairs; at any rate, I entreat you to become more tranquil ; I had 
 
 rather make payment to parson F than that you should thus 
 
 suffer." 
 
20S LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 The preacher, under the direction of many importuning friends, 
 loaned his name, which step was to him a permanent subject of regret. 
 Trials succeeded trials, review after review, at Salem, and at the 
 supreme judicial court, held at Ipswich, in 1783, 1784, and 1785. 
 
 The pleaders seemed an invincible phalanx, and the mind-bending 
 eloquence of the honourable Mr. King was indeed a most potent aid. 
 Men characterized the oratory of that gentleman, as persuading, com- 
 manding, and like an irresistible torrent, bearing down every obstacle. 
 Many of the senior advocates seemed so to feel, and acknowledge the 
 superiority of Mr. King, as to surrender to him the right of closing 
 causes of great importance ; and a high law character declared, that, had 
 he a cause depending, of the greatest intricacy and magnitude, to be 
 plead before the first tribunal in the world, he would prefer Mr. King 
 as his advocate, to any man he had ever heard speak. Previous, how- 
 ever, to the adjudication of 1785, when a verdict in favour of the 
 plaintiffs, by the suffrage of the jury, (exclusive of the judges) was 
 obtained, the political career of this celebrated character removed him 
 from their counsel, and their cause was committed to, and ably sup- 
 ported by, Mr. afterwards Governor Sullivan, and Judge Tudor. The 
 late Chief Justice Parsons, and Mr. Bradbury were counsel for the 
 defendants. The Gloucesterians, in their appeal to the " impartial 
 public," pertinently observed that the decision of the question, agitated 
 respecting them, ultimately involved every citizen of the common- 
 wealth, and instantly affected the several religious orders of Episco- 
 palians, Baptists, Presbyterians, Sandemanians, Quakers, and every 
 other denomination of Christians, who, in this state, were called 
 sectaries. 
 
 Upon the objection, that their teacher was not a preacher of piety, 
 religion, and morality, they mildly observed : They were not convinced 
 that the question could be determined from a revision of the motives he 
 offered as to the rewards which are to be bestowed, or punishments 
 inflicted in another world ; they rather supposed it should be decided 
 upon the evidence of his urging the people to piety and morality, as the 
 foundation of the greatest good of which their natures were capable, 
 and as a compliance with the will of their Almighty Creator and Pre- 
 server. They believed, that the scriptures affirmed, that God would 
 punish men for sin, even in this world, in a manner which would far, 
 very far overbalance the pleasures to be derived from vice. They con- 
 ceived, that the idea that it was necessary to the good order of govern- 
 ment, that the teachers of religion should thunder out the doctrine of 
 
.te of 
 *fl 
 
 i was 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 209 
 
 everlasting punishment to deter men from atrocious crimes, which they 
 might otherwise commit in secret, had long been hackneyed in the hands 
 of men in power, but without any warrant from reason or revelation. 
 Reason, without the aid of revelation, gave no intimation of a state 
 retribution beyond the grave ; and the gospel brought life and imi 
 tality to light : nor, said they, was it until the Christian church 
 illegally wedded to state policy, that men in power dared to hurl the 
 thunders of the Most High, at those who offended against government. 
 But, they added, should the point be maintained, that courts and jurievs 
 are authorized to determine, whether the teacher of a religious sect is a 
 teacher of morality, from his opinion either of the cause, mode, or state 
 of men's happiness or misery in another world, or from his opinion of 
 the nature, or proportion of the rewards for virtue, or the punishments 
 for vice in a future state, no sect or denomination could be s^fe, it be- 
 ing a matter resting on opinion only, without any earthly tribunal hav- 
 ing the ability or authority to settle the question. Suppose an- Episco- 
 palian teacher should have an action in his name to recover the money, 
 paid by his hearers. Perhaps he might be one, who had subscribed and 
 sworn to the thirty -nine articles, the truth of which is well supported bij 
 act of parliament : an objection might be made from one of the articles, 
 that tells us, God from all eternity elected a certain number to happiness, 
 and predestinated all the rest of the human race to everlasting misery ; 
 and this of his own sovereign will, without any regard to the merit of 
 the one, or the demerit of the other. A jury might be found, who would 
 decide at once, that this doctrine is subversive of all morality and good 
 order ; for, if the state of every man be unalterably fixed from all eter- 
 nity, and nothing done by him can in any wise change the divine de- 
 cree, why, then the elect may conceive themselves justified in seeking 
 to injure those, whom God from eternity has consigned to perdition. 
 
 But, should an Arminian be in trial, and it appeared he taught his 
 people it was within their own power to procure future happiness, a jury 
 might not be able to distinguish between the prescience and the fore- 
 ordination of God; and it might be called impiety to allege, that the 
 infinitely wise Being did not from all eternity know the ultimate fate of 
 all his creatures. It would at least be called derogatory to the honour 
 of the Most High, to suppose any thing to be contingent with Him; and 
 therefore a teacher of such principles might in the eye of some persons be 
 viewed as a teacher of impiety and immorality. From these and various 
 other considerations, the Gloucesterians humbly conceived, that religion 
 was a manor between an individual and his Hod : that no man had a rightto 
 
210 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 dictate a mode of worship to another ; that, in that respect, every man 
 stood upon a perfect equality ; and they believed that the paucity ol 
 their numbers, and the prejudices of their enemies, had pointed them 
 out as proper objects for the first essay of religious tyranny ; hence they 
 ther chose to seek redress from the great law, made by the people, to 
 
 vern the Legislature, than from the Legislature itself; believing they 
 should betray the freedom of their country, if they timidly shrunk 
 from a trial, upon the great principles of the constitution, indeed they 
 seemed to consider themselves as the Hamdens of our religious world. 
 
 In the course of the month of September, 1785, a writ of review wah 
 again served, and the final decision was referred, and deferred, until tha 
 June of 1786, when a conclusive verdict was obtained in favour of the 
 plaintiffs. Mr. Murray was then in the state of Connecticut. We 
 transcribe an extract from a letter, which wafted to the eye and ear of 
 the promulgator intelligence of the emancipation of his adherents. 
 
 " Last Tuesday our party with their cloud of witnesses were present, 
 and called out at the bar of the Supreme Judicial Court. The cause 
 was opened by Mr. Bradbury, and replied to by Mr. Hitchborne ; the 
 court adjourned to the succeeding morning. I arrived just in season to 
 hear it taken up by Mr. Parsons, and closed by Mr. Sullivan. I wish 
 for an opportunity to render my acknowledgments to this gentleman. 
 He displayed upon this day an eloquence, not less than Roman. The 
 judges summed up the whole. The first was ambiguous, the 
 second was so trammelled, and inarticulate, as to be scarcely under- 
 stood; but the remaining three, have acquired a glory which will be 
 as lasting as time. The conduct of Judge Dana attracted particular 
 notice. You may remember he heretofore laboured against us ; there 
 appeared a disposition to traverse our counsel ; in his comments on the 
 constitution, those parts, which made for us, he turned against us ; he 
 asserted the tax was not persecuting, but legal ; religious societies were 
 bodies corporate, or meant to be so ; sect and denomination were pro- 
 miscuously used and synonimous : and the whole was delivered with a 
 sententious gravity, the result of faculties, laboriously cultivated by 
 experience and study. But a revolution had now passed in his mind, 
 and when he noticed that article in the constitution, which directs 
 monies to be applied to the teacher of his own religious sect, he said, 
 the whole cause depended upon the construction of that clause. He 
 had heretofore been of opinion, it meant teachers of bodies corporate ; 
 he then thought otherwise ; as the constitution was meant for a liberal 
 purpose, its construction should be of a most liberal kind ; it meant, in 
 
MFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 211 
 
 this instance, teachers of any persuasion whatever, Jew or Mahometan. 
 It would be for the jury to determine, if Mr. Murray was a teacher of 
 piety, religion, and morality ; that matter, he said, had in his opinion 
 been fully proved. The only question therefore before them was, 
 if Mr. Murray came within the description of the constitution, and had 
 a right to require the money. " It is my opinion," he decidedly de- 
 clared, " that Mr. Murray comes within the description of the consti- 
 tution, and has a right to require the money." The jury received the 
 cause, and departed the court at half past three. In the evening they 
 returned, with a declaration, that they could not agree. The Chief 
 Judge, with some asperity, ordered them to take the papers and go out 
 again ; they continued in deliberation through the whole night. Thurs- 
 day morning they came in again, declaring their unanimous agreement, 
 that the judgment obtained the preceding year was in nothing erro- 
 neous. Thus have we gained our Cause, after trials of such expecta- 
 tion and severity. We rejoice greatly. It is the Lord's doings, and 
 marvellous in our eyes." 
 
 Mr. Murray continued uniformly to devote the summer months to 
 his multiplied adherents, from Maryland to New-Hampshire ; in what 
 manner, is copiously described in his Letters and Sketches of Ser- 
 mons. In the February of 1783, we find the Preacher, as usual, 
 deeply interested in the cause of his Great Master, and suggesting, in a 
 letter to his friend and fellow-labourer, Mr. Noah Parker, the propriety 
 of an annual meeting of the heralds of redemption ; his words are : 
 ; ' Indeed it would gladden my heart, if every one who stands forth a 
 public witness of the truth as it is in Jesus, could have an opportunity 
 of seeing and conversing one with another, at least once every year. I 
 believe it would be attended with very good effects. Think of it, my 
 friend, and let me know the result of your deliberation. I think these 
 servants of the Most High might assemble one year at Norwich, one 
 year at Boston, and another at Portsmouth, or wherever it may be most 
 convenient. I have long contemplated an association of this descrip- 
 tion ; and the longer I deliberate, the more I am convinced of the util- 
 ity which would be annexed to the regulation." In the September of 
 1785, the Preacher, writing to the same friend, thus expresses himself: 
 " Although very much indisposed, I am commencing a journey to Ox- 
 iord, where I expect to meet a number of our religious brethren, from 
 different towns, in which the gospel has been preached and believed, 
 for the purpose of deliberating upon some plan, to defeat the designs of 
 our enemies, who aim at robbing us of jhe liberty, wherewith the con- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 stitution has made us free. On my return, I shall communicate to you 
 the reult of our meeting." Upon the close of the same month of Sep- 
 tember, he thus writes : " Well, I have been to Oxford, and the assem- 
 bly convened there was truly primitive. We deliberated, first, on a 
 ^AME ; secondly, on the propriety of being united in our common de- 
 fence ; thirdly, upon the utility of an annual meeting of representatives 
 from the different societies ; and fourthly, upon keeping up a constant 
 correspondence by letter. Each of these particulars are to be laid be- 
 fore the societies, represented by their delegates on this occasion, and, if 
 approved, their approbation to be announced by circular letters, to the 
 several societies. Mr. Winchester delivered a most excellent sermon : 
 his subject was, " but though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any 
 other gospel unto you, than that which we have preached unto you, let 
 him be accursed." By the desire of Mr. Winchester, I closed the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 Thus was a convention formed, and, we may add, organized, by the 
 Father of Universalism in this country. But, alas ! in no long time, 
 a root of bitterness sprang up, which destroyed his pleasure in the as- 
 sociation. Yet, in the last stage of his pilgrimage, he frequently regret- 
 ted, that his attendance upon this convention had not been more uni- 
 form ; as he might possibly, by his years and his experience, have met 
 and obviated the difficulties which distressed him. Mr. Winchester, 
 searching the bible for arguments to confute Mr. Murray, became him- 
 self a Universalist, but he was a Universalist of the CHAUNCIAN school. 
 He was a man of pure morals, and an ardent lover of the Redeemer. 
 
 At this period, in addition to the houses erected in Gloucester, and 
 in Portsmouth, a convenient place for public worship was procured by 
 the Universalists in the city of Philadelphia ; and, in the city of New- 
 York, a church had been purchased, which they forbore to open, until 
 ^t could be dedicated by the peace-speaking voice of the Promulgator. 
 In the course of the autumn, or winter of 1785, the Bostonians pur- 
 chased a meeting-house in Bennet-street. This house they enlarged 
 and beautified ; here Mr. Murray was occasionally their officiating 
 minister. And in the metropolis of Pennsylvania, New-York, and 
 Massachusetts, he was earnestly solicited to take up his residence. 
 
 Previous to the decision obtained by the Gloucesterians, a prose- 
 cution was commenced against their Preacher, for performing the mar- 
 riage ceremony. Persuaded that he was commissioned by his God to 
 preach the gospel, and knowing that he was ordained by the people to 
 whom he administered, he believed himself authorized to receive the 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 213 
 
 nuptial vows of as many among his adherents, as, furnished with the 
 requisite certificates, made application to him for this purpose. A sin- 
 gle instance was selected by his implacable foes, and a special verdict 
 obtained, which condemned the Preacher to pay a fine of fifty pounds. 
 But this was not all ; he had frequently performed the marriage cere- 
 mony. Prosecution would most unquestionably succeed prosecution ; 
 and the sum total of multiplied amercements would involve difficulties 
 not easily surmounted. Prudence whispered the persecuted man of 
 God, that he ought to absent himself until the interference of the Le- 
 gislature could be obtained ; and inclination pointed his way over the 
 pathless deep, for the purpose of once more visiting his native shores, 
 holding sweet converse with a few select friends, and folding to his filial 
 bosom his venerable mother. Assured of the propriety of a step so 
 important to his numerous American connexions, on the 6th of Janu- 
 ary, 1788, he embarked for England. Noble provision was made for 
 him by the Bostonians, and all the expenses of the voyage defrayed. 
 Russell, the benevolent Russell, was his friend. Russell the philan- 
 thropist ; who, like his God, delighted in speaking peace to the sons 
 and daughters of adversity. Dear, sympathising friend of man 1 to the 
 children of sorrow thy memory is right precious. Had thy stinted 
 abilities been commensurate with thy will, the voice of gladness would 
 have resounded in every dwelling. Nor Russell alone : many pressed 
 forward, whose liberal hearts devised liberal things ; and substantial 
 manifestation of affection to the preacher were abundant and mu- 
 nificent. 
 
 During Mr. Murray's absence, the Legislature was addressed. We 
 regret that we cannot exhibit a complete copy of the petitions which 
 were presented, but such extracts, as we can command, we transcribe : 
 
 " To the Honourable Senate, and the House of Representatives of 
 the commonwealth of Massachusetts,, assembled in Boston, in February, 
 ] 788 ; John Murray, of Gloucester, in the county of Essex, would 
 humbly represent to your Honours, that about seventeen years 
 ago, he came into this country, which he considered as the asylum 
 of religion and benevolence ; that on his arrival he began to preach the 
 gospel of peace, in doing which he met with many cordial friends ; 
 some of whom, namely, a society of Christians in Gloucester, distin- 
 guished themselves by their uniform attachment to the message, and the 
 messenger; and after your Petitioner had occasionally laboured among 
 them, for a considerable time, they associated together as an Independ- 
 ent Church, built a meeting-house, and invited your petitioner to reside 
 
214 llFK OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 with them, as their settled minister ; and, in the month of December, in 
 the year 1780, did. appoint, set apart, and ordain him to the work 
 of the ministry, and to be their teacher of piety, religion, and 
 morality ; that ever since that period, he has considered himself, and 
 has been considered by the people he has statedly laboured amongst, 
 as their ordained minister, and though your petitioner has, on sundry 
 occasions, visited, and laboured amongst his Christian friends, in other 
 places, it has always been with the consent of his people, they still 
 looking on him, and he on himself, as their ordained minister. It also 
 appears, that the people, among whom your petitioner has frequently 
 laboured, have considered him in the same light ; as they have formally 
 requested license of his people of Gloucester, who, after consultation, 
 granted that license. Another circumstance, that tended to confirm your 
 petitioner in the belief of his being an ordained minister in the strictest 
 sense of the word, and according to the letter and spirit of the law, was 
 the verdict given in favour of him and his people, by the Honourable 
 Supreme Court and jury, when, after suffering much abuse from their 
 persecuting opponents in Gloucester, they were reduced to the necessity 
 of applying to the laws of their country, for redress and protection. 
 But their opponents, dissatisfied with the verdict then obtained, demand- 
 ed a review ; after which review, the former verdict was confirmed by the 
 full, and decided opinion of the honourable court given in their favour. 
 " Being thus by constitutional right, and legal decision, established as 
 an independent minister, settled with, and ordained by, the joint suffra- 
 ges of the members of that Religious Society, your petitioner supposed 
 his troubles from his persecuting enemies were at an end. And upon 
 consulting council learned in the law, who gave it as their decided 
 opinion that he was an ordained minister, he proceeded to perform the 
 ceremony of marriage to such of his hearers, who made application to 
 him for that purpose. But some of his opponents, unacquainted with 
 the independent mode of ordination, and presuming your petitioner 
 was not ordained, because the same ceremonies were not made use of 
 in his ordination, to the use of which they were accustomed, brought the 
 question of your petitioner's right of officiating as an ordained minister, 
 before the Judges of the Supreme Judicial Court, who gave it as their 
 opinion, that he was not an ordained minister, in the sense of the law, 
 as the forms of his ordination were not sufficienly notorious. Your pe- 
 titioner, and the people who ordained him, conceived his ordination 
 was sufficiently notorious, as the article was subscribed by every mem- 
 ber of the society ; and the honourable court considered him a public 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 215 
 
 teacher of Piety, Religion, and Morality. The recent adjudication of 
 the honourable Judges has involved your petitioner's little flock, in 
 Gloucester, in expense, and exquisite distress, and your petitioner is 
 ruined, unless your honours can interfere for his relief. He must not 
 only satisfy the heavy penalty already forfeited, to his said opponents, 
 and prosecutors, but he is liable to repeated forfeitures of like penalties 
 for every marriage he has performed, since he has conceived himself the 
 ordained minister of that people, which must involve his friends in ex- 
 pense, or consign him to a gaol. Nor is this all ; supposing his ordi- 
 nation invalid, he is, by the letter of the law, liable to ignominious pun- 
 ishment. Now, as equity is said to be that interference of the supreme 
 power, which alleviates, where the law, by being too comprehensive, 
 has involved a case, to which it was not perhaps meant to extend ; and 
 as he, and his people, his council, and the world at large, supposed him 
 ordained, as much as an Episcopalian, or any other teacher, however 
 different the mode of ordination, he most humbly prays your honours p 
 to indemnify him for any farther prosecution, for any marriage he may 
 have solemnized, under his supposed right ; and by this means rescue 
 him from the persecuting power of his malignant adversaries, restore 
 the exercise of religious rites to his oppressed, and afflicted people, es- 
 tablish in the Commonwealth, in which he has long had his residence, 
 that peace which has been broken by the malice of his enemies. You r 
 petitioner would in person have waited on such committee of your 
 honours, as may be appointed to consider this petition, but his well 
 grounded fears that prosecutions would be multiplied upon him, by the 
 zeal of his religious adversaries, has necessitated him to absent himself 
 from the country of his adoption, and his dear people, until such time 
 as the clemency of your honours might be obtained in his behalf." 
 
 The Congregation in Gloucester, addressed the Legislature in a sep- 
 arate petition, and the Judges, Sullivan and Dawes, co-operated with 
 Mr. Russell, in persevering efforts to obtain a decision. The petitions 
 were referred to a committee of three gentlemen, of great respectability, 
 who speedily prepared, and handed in their report, which was laid upon 
 the speaker's table, whence it was drawn forth by the speaker of the 
 House, James Warren, esq. accepted by a handsome majority, and 
 sent up to the Senate for concurrence. The report was called up from 
 the President's table, by the Honourable Mr. Dalton, when, after a de- 
 bate of two hours, it passed the Senate, almost unanimously. This 
 most acceptable result was made known to the deeply interested Glou- 
 cesterians, by a writing, of which the following is a verbatim copy : -- 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 In the House of Representatives, March \7th, 1788. 
 
 "WHEREAS John Murray, and others, have represented to this court, 
 that the said Murray, esteeming himself legally qualified, had solem- 
 nized certain marriages, and that, by a decision had in the Superior Ju- 
 dicial Court, it was determined that the said Murray had no such au- 
 thority, praying that he may be indemnified. Resolved, that the said 
 John Murray, be, and he hereby is, indemnified from all the pains, and 
 penalties, which he may have incurred on account of having solemnized 
 any marriages, as aforesaid, for which there has not been any prosecu- 
 tion commenced, or had ; and the said Murray may, upon trial for any 
 of the offences aforesaid, give this resolution in evidence, upon the gen- 
 eral issue, which shall have the same operation, as if specially pleaded. 
 Sent up for concurrence. JAMES WARREN, Speaker. 
 
 In Senate, March Will, 1788. 
 Read and concurred. SAMUEL ADAMS, President. 
 
 Approved, JOHN HANCOCK. 
 
 True copy ; attest, 
 JOHN AVERY, JUN. Secretary. 
 
 Meantime, the persecuted, and now NOBLY REDRESS ED 'promulgator, 
 was speeding across the great waters. His passage over the Atlantic 
 was uncommonly boisterous ; the European winter of this year was 
 very severe. More navigation, and lives, were lost, in the January and 
 February of 1788, upon the tremendous coast of Cornwall, dfcpi had 
 ever before been known, in any one season. At length, however, the 
 Chalky Cliffs of his native shore met his gladdened view, and the heav- 
 en-protected vessel cast anchor in the commodious harbour of Falmouth. 
 Mr. Murray was an entire stranger to this part of England ; but, by 
 the Bostonians and Gloucesterians, he had been furnished with recom- 
 mendatory letters, thus worded 
 
 " WE, the Subscribers, members of the Christian Independent 
 Church in Boston, do, on behalf of ourselves and our brethren, by these 
 presents, certify to all whom it may concern, that the bearer, Mr. John 
 Murray, (settled Minister of the Independent Church in Gloucester) 
 for more than fourteen years past, hath occasionally laboured among us, 
 in this place, much to the edification, and consolation of God's people ; 
 and we bless God, therefore, and most sincerely pray, that the good will 
 of Him who dwelt in the Bush may accompany him on his way, and 
 
fclFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 217 
 
 bring him back to his numerous friends, richly laden with the blessings* 
 of the Gospel of peace." 
 
 " Signed by the most respectable members of the Church." 
 
 Gloucester, January 4th, 1788. 
 
 " Be it known universally, that WE the elders, on behalf of the Inde- 
 pendent Church of Christ in Gloucester, do certify that the bearer, Mr. 
 John Murray, is, and has been for many years past, our ordained min- 
 ister, and we pray God to preserve him, and return him to us in safety." 
 (Signed) WINTHROP SARGENT, 
 
 EPES SARGENT, 
 DAVID PLUMMER. 
 
 Mr. Murray was received in Falmouth, with fraternal kindness. The 
 Sunday succeeding his arrival, the pulpit of a gentleman, once in connec- 
 tion with Mr. Whitefield, was thrown open to him, where he preached 
 forenoon and afternoon, and continued delivering evening lectures until 
 February 14, when he resumed his journey by land, to London, pro- 
 claiming glad tidings from the pulpits, as he passed along, to which free 
 access was granted him ; at Truro, Cheswater, Tregony, Mevegessey, 
 St. Austle, Looe, in the several churches at Plymouth, and Plymouth 
 Dock, Exeter, Wellington, &c. &c. he delivered his God-honouring, 
 man-restoring message. Several clergymen always attended his lec- 
 tures, and one gentleman accompanied him even to Exeter. We select 
 a few of the subjects, upon which he delighted to dwell. The lights 
 ordained by the Creator for signs, Genesis iii. 15. The dress of thu 
 Jewish High Priest, the 1st Psalm, the 89th Psalm, Zechariah ix. 9, 
 1st J(Rn, 4, and many passages drawn from Isaiah, and the Epistles 
 of the Apostle Paul. His manner of passing his time, and the devout 
 propensities of his pious heart, may be gathered from a short extract 
 from his journal, a journal replete with beauty and interest, to the 
 christianized mind, and containing descriptions and remarks, worthy 
 the writer : 
 
 " I am delighted with walking through the fields ; the gardens are so 
 very beautiful, the fields so very ' green, the linnets and goldfinches so 
 busy on the hedges, preparing their habitations. These songsters of 
 the groves, which are vocal on every spray, are to me like old and 
 pleasing acquaintance, not seen nor heard of for a great number of years, 
 while the fascinating choristers, in whom I have taken so much delight, 
 seem, by their cheering notes, to welcome me as I pass along their 
 native fields and hedges. The primroses, and a variety of other sweet 
 flowers, are already in full bloom : in hort, every thing wears a rheor- 
 
218 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ful appearance. How grateful ought I to be to the Author of every 
 good, who, in this dear country, follows me with the same loving kind- 
 ness and tender mercy, with which he followed me in the dear country 
 I have left. The numerous friends, with whom I occasionally sojourn, 
 are as anxious to detain me with them, and lament the necessity of my 
 departure, precisely as did my American friends ; their hearts swell 
 with transport, while I simply declare the gospel of the grace of God, 
 and they reiterate their expressions of admiration of the gracious words, 
 which God enables me to utter, in like manner as did the good Glouces- 
 terian Elder, Mr. Warner, on my first visit to that place. We mingle 
 our supplications and addresses, our thanksgivings and our praises, and 
 our hearts burn within us, while we converse of the goodness of our 
 God, and the gracious purposes of redeeming love. Surely it would 
 be ill judged, if not cruel, in such circumstances, to dash the cup of 
 felicity from the lips of these humble dependents upon the grace of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ, because perhaps they do not see to the end of the 
 divine purposes. I never will preach any thing but the gospel of God 
 our Saviour, any where ; but I will leave those dear people to draw 
 their own conclusions, and, in the interim, I will feed them with the 
 sincere milk of the word, that they may grow thereby. The inhabitants 
 of this place (Falmouth) are a very Iriendly, religious people. May 
 God grant them peace, and give them abundant consolation in believ- 
 ing. The people every where hear with AMERICAN ATTENTION. 
 Clergymen, wherever I sojourn, are generally my hosts. Gospel, una- 
 dulterated gospel, is pleasant to the believing soul ; I content myself 
 with showing that man is lost by sin ; that the law is the ministrali|n of 
 death ; that -the gospel is a divine declaration of life, by Jesus Christ, to 
 every creature. Yes, I will continue to preach the gospel freely to 
 every creature. I will endeavour to point out its glories, and the 
 many advantages attendant on believing the divine report. This, by 
 the grace of God, shall still be the business of my life. Many clergy- 
 men attend me in my progress, no less than seven have been among my 
 audience at one time ; and on my descending from the pulpit, they 
 usually take my hand, and devoutly thank me for bearing so good a 
 testimony for Jesus Christ; for speaking so well of the Redeemer^ 
 adding, that it is a pity I should do any thing but preach. Numbers 
 flock around me, and, in fact, were I an angel descended from above, I 
 could not be followed with more uniform attention." 
 
 London is two hundred and twenty miles from Falmouth. The 
 Preacher did not reach that metropolis until the 16th of March, and 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 his time was most delightfully passed in the service of God the Saviour. 
 Upon one occasion, his entrance into one spacious place of worship 
 was hailed by the musical choir, devoutly chanting 
 
 " Blow ye the trumpet, blow 
 
 The gladly solemn sound, 
 
 Let ail the nations know, 
 
 To earth's remotest bound, 
 The year of jubilee is come, 
 Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home." 
 
 Yet, even in this short visit to his native island, the Promulgator 
 went through evil as well as good report. We subjoin a specimen of 
 each. A gentleman of Falmouth, writing to his friend in Tregony, thus 
 expresses himself : 
 
 " Mr. Murray will shortly be in your town ; we have attended upon 
 him here with inexpressible delight ; three such sermons, as he has de- 
 livered, my ears never before heard ; such a preacher never before ap- 
 peared in this town. I am convinced his ideas are all his own, I never 
 heard any thing like them ; his mind seems clearly informed, and his 
 heart very much warmed by the love of God." But the following ad- 
 vertisement appeared in a London paper. 
 
 " Mr. Murray is an American, the most popular preacher in the 
 United States. Tn the conclusion of one of his sermons, preached on 
 that continent, he endeavoured to enforce, with all the powers of elo- 
 quence, the necessity of establishing in those states the same Olympic 
 games, w r hich were for many ages established among the Grecians." 
 But this was not all ; it was storied, that he had left America in conse- 
 quence of a criminal prosecution. 
 
 Arriving at London, he was once more enriched by the maternal 
 benediction. He found his venerable parent in the enjoyment of a fine 
 green old age, and again she rejoiced in the presence of her son. In 
 London, and at Hampstead, in the meeting-house once occupied by Mr. 
 Whitefield, he delivered his message of peace. Patronized in the city 
 of London, by an opulent family, who cherished him PS a son, he was 
 strongly solicited once more to take up his abode in that metropolis ; 
 but the providence of God had not so decreed, and, after continuing 
 there a short time, he departed thence, and journeyed to Portsmouth, 
 for the purpose of being in readiness to commence his return to America, 
 In Portsmouth, he was again a solitary stranger ; but he had not been 
 more than four hours in that celebrated and important emporium, ere 
 he was engaged, by a respectable clergyman, to preach a lecture, which 
 had been previously announced. In Portsmouth he tarried two weeks. 
 
220 -LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 preaching frequently. On his first lecture, he was solicited by a doctor 
 Miller to accompany him to his habitation, where he abode until he 
 departed from that town. The circle of his acquaintance soon became 
 large, among whom he numbered very respectable friends. When the 
 clergymen, with whom Mr. Murray associated, during his last residence 
 in England, became ascertained of his full and comprehensive views of 
 the magnitude and extent of the redeeming plan, although very few 
 adopted his ideas, yet they still continued warmly attached to the 
 preacher ; and the letters they addressed to him, after his return to 
 America, which are still in being, would fill a volume. A few of the 
 Preacher's responses are contained in the volumes of Letters and 
 Sketches of Sermons. 
 
 Mr. Murray proceeded to Cowes, upon the Isle of Wight, and from 
 thence embarking for America, commenced his voyage with a fair wind, 
 which soon changing, they were under the necessity of dropping anchor 
 in Portland harbour, where they were long wind bound. His passage 
 was uncommonly protracted ; but, fortunately, the passengers united 
 to give it every charm, of which society is susceptible ; and, when we 
 add, that our late respectable President, the Honourable John Adams 
 and Lady, were of the number, the pleasures of the voyage will be 
 nothing doubted. Books, music, and conversation, varied the tedium 
 of the passing weeks ; nor was the Preacher debarred the exercise of his 
 sacred avocation ; Mr.Adams requested he would officiate as their teach- 
 er, every Sunday, and accordingly the ship's company, and the passen- 
 gers, were, upon this holy day, collected round him. His first subject 
 was the third commandment. They united in their addresses to the 
 throne of grace, and in hymning the praises of their God. 
 
 Again reaching the shores of this New World, the voice of exoneration 
 and of FREEDOM bade him welcome; and the glad acclamations of joy 
 resounded among his congratulating, and most affectionate friends. A 
 summons from the Governour, to attend a select party at his house, met 
 him on the day of his arrival, and every liberal mind partook the rational 
 hilarity of the moment. 
 
 The Gloucesterians, determining no more to hazard invidious prose- 
 cution, and its train of evils, appointed a day, the Christmas of 1788, 
 on which to renew, the ordination of their Pastor ; and, after assem- 
 bling, and effectuating their purpose, that they might bestow upon the 
 solemn transaction all possible publicity, they procured its insertion in 
 the Centinel of January 3d, 1789, from which paper we transcribe it 
 verbatim : 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 221 
 
 " Last Thursday week, Mr. John Murray was ordained to the pas- 
 toral charge oi' the Independent Church of Christ in Gloucester. After 
 Mr. Murray had prayed, and one of the congregation had announced 
 the intention of the meeting, and presented him, formally, with a call. 
 Mr. Murray replied : 
 
 " Persuaded of the truth of the declaration, made by the compilers 
 of the shorter catechism, that God's works of providence are his most 
 holy, wise, and powerful, preserving and governing all his creatures, and 
 all their actions ; and having a full conviction that the affairs of the 
 Church are, in an especial manner, under his immediate direction ; and 
 that you, my Christian friends and brethren, are now, as formerly, under 
 the directing influence of that divine spirit, which, taking of the things 
 of Jesus, and showing them unto me, constrained me to become a 
 Preacher of the everlasting Gospel, and directed you to set me apart, 
 and ordain me, to be your Minister ; I now again, with humble grati- 
 tude to my divine Master, and grateful affection for you, my long tried, 
 and faithful Christian friends and brethren, most cordially accept of this 
 call." 
 
 One of the Committee then read the vote of the Church : " Resolv- 
 ed, that we, the proprietors of the Independent Meeting-House in 
 Gloucester, the members of the church and congregation usually attend- 
 ing there for the purpose of divine worship, do, by virtue of that power 
 invested in us by the great High Priest of our profession, the Bishop of 
 our souls, and the Great and only Head of the Church ; and according 
 to the institutions of the first churches in New-England, and in perfect 
 conformity to the third article of the declaration of rights, in this public 
 manner, solemnly elect and ordain, constitute and appoint Mr. John 
 Murray, of said Gloucester, dark, to be our settled Minister, Pastor, 
 and teaching Elder ; to preach the word of God, and to inculcate les- 
 sons and instructions of piety, religion, and morality, on the congrega- 
 tion ; and to do, perform, and discharge all the duties and offices, which 
 of right belong to any other minister of the Gospel, or public teacher 
 of Piety, Religion, and Morality ; and it is hereby intended, and under- 
 stood, that the authority and rights hereby given to the said Mr. John 
 Murray, to be our settled, ordained minister, and public teacher, are to 
 remain in full force, so long as he shall continue to preach the word of 
 God, and dispense instructions of piety, religion and morality, confor- 
 mably to our opinions, and no longer." 
 
 " The Committee then solemnly presented him the Bible, saying, 
 on its presentation : " Dear sir, We present you these sacred scriptures 
 EE 
 
LIFE OK REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 as a solemn seal of your ordination to the ministry of the New Testa- 
 ment, and the sole directory of your faith and practice." His accept- 
 ance was affecting ; as what comes from the heart reaches the heart. 
 
 '* With my full soul I thank our merciful God, for this inestimable 
 gift. With grateful transport I press it to my bosom ; I receive it as 
 the copy of my FATHER'S WILL, as the deed of an incorruptible inher- 
 itance ; as the unerring guide to my feet, and lanthorn to my paths. 
 Dear, precious treasure, thou hast been my constant support in every 
 trying hour, and a never failing source of true consolation. I thank 
 you, most sincerely do T thank you, for this confirming seal, this sure 
 directory ; and I pray that the spirit, which dictated these sacred pages, 
 may enable me to make the best use thereof." A sermon by Mr. Mur- 
 ray, from Luke v. 2, succeeded, " The harvest is great, bui the labour- 
 ers are few" &c. &c. 
 
 " The solemnity, attention, and Christian demeanour, that attended 
 the whole transaction of the ordination, and every other occurrence of 
 the day, gave universal satisfaction to a numerous audience." 
 
 Days of tranquillity now succeeded ; weeks, months, nay years roll- 
 ed on, and harmony, unbroken harmony, presided. Religion shed her 
 balmy influence, her mind-irradiating, passion-subduing consolations ; 
 and we were ready to say, stability dwelleth even in our times. But 
 alas ! we too soon experienced that " bliss, sublunary bliss" was not 
 the durable possession of mortality. 
 
 It was in this interval, of most pleasant memory, that Mr. Murray, 
 in the summer of the year 1790, then on a visit to his Pennsylvania, 
 Jersey, and New -York connexions, was, by the Universalists convened 
 in the city of Philadelphia, associated with Mr. William Eugene Imley, 
 to present an address to the immortal Washington, then President of 
 the United States. We proceed to transcribe the address. 
 
 To THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 The Address of the Convention of the Universal Churchy assembled in 
 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 Permit us, in the name of the Society which we represent, to concur 
 in the numerous congratulations which have been offered to you, since 
 your accession to the government of the United States. 
 
 " For an account of our principles, we beg leave to refer you to the 
 pamphlet, which we have now the honour of putting into your hands. 
 In this publication it will appear, that the peculiar doctrine, which we 
 hold, is not less friendly to the order and happiness of society, than it is 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 essential to the perfection of the Deity. It is a singular circumstance 
 in the history of this doctrine, that it has been preached and defended in 
 every age since the first promulgation of the Gospel ; but we represent 
 the first society, professing this doctrine, that have formed themselves 
 into an independent church. Posterity will hardly fail to connect this 
 memorable event, with the auspicious years of PEACE, LIBERTY, and free 
 inquiry in the United States, which distinguished the administration of 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON. 
 
 "We join, thus publicly, with our affecti on ate fellow citizens, in 
 thanks to Almighty God, for the last of his numerous signal acts of 
 goodness to our country, in preserving your valuable life, in a late dan- 
 gerous indisposition, and we assure you, Sir, that duty will not prompt 
 us, more than affection, to pray that you may long continue the support 
 and ornament of our country, and that you may hereafter fill a higher 
 station, and enjoy the greater reward of being a king, and priest to our 
 God. 
 
 " Signed in behalf, and by order of the convention. 
 
 " JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 " WILLIAM ETJGENB IMLEY.'' 
 
 PRESIDENT'S REPLY. 
 
 ; * To the Convention of the Universal Church) lately assembled in Phi- 
 ladelphia. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN, 
 
 " I thank you, cordially, for the congratulations, which you offer on 
 my appointment to the office I have the honour to hold in the govern- 
 ment of the United States. 
 
 " It gives me the most sensible pleasure to find, that, in our nation, 
 however different are the sentiments of citizens on religious doctrines, 
 they generally concur in one thing : for their political professions, and 
 practices, are almost universally friendly to the order and happiness of 
 our civil institutions. I am also happy in finding this disposition par- 
 ticidarly evinced by your society. It is moreover my earnest desire, 
 that the members of every association, or community, throughout the 
 United States, may make such use of the auspicious years of peace, 
 liberty, and free inquiry with which they are now favoured, as they 
 shall hereafter find occasion to rejoice for having done. 
 
 " With great satisfaction, I embrace this opportunity, to express my 
 acknowledgments for the interest, my affectionate fellow citizens have 
 taken in my recovery, from a late dangerous indisposition. And I as- 
 
224 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 sure you, Gentlemen, that in mentioning my obligations, for the effu- 
 sions of your benevolent wishes on my behalf, I feel animated with new 
 zeal, that my conduct may ever be worthy of your good opinion, as 
 well as such as shall, in every respect, best comport with the character 
 of an intelligent and accountable being." 
 
 And now, a large number of Mr. Murray's first friends in Gloucester 
 were numbered with the dead. He had himself again become the 
 head of a family. The times were oppressive, and he considered it his 
 duty to provide for those of whom he had taken charge. The Bosto- 
 nians were solicitous to hail the Preacher, as their settled Pastor ; and 
 it was certain his usefulness would, in the Metropolis, be more exten- 
 sive. A partial separation from the Gloucesterians was, by mutual con- 
 sent, effectuated. It was however stipulated, that Mr. Murray should 
 occasionally visit them, and that they should be allowed to command 
 his presence, upon every distressing, or important exigence ; and the 
 distance being no more than an ea.y ride of a few hours, the adjustment 
 was accomplished, without much difficulty. Yet did the Preacher 
 continue dissatisfied, until the establishment of his successor, in the 
 midst of his long loved, and early friends. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Thomas Jones, a native of Wales, whom he had in- 
 duced, by his representations, to unite with him in his American mis- 
 sion, is a gentleman of great respectability, of the purest morals, and 
 high in the ranks of integrity. Mr. Jones was educated at the col ege, 
 established by the Countess of Huntington ; in which connexion he con- 
 tinued, until his attachment to the doctrines of the gospel, in their most 
 unlimited import, became the signal for his exclusion. The installation 
 of Mr. Jones, in Gloucester, gladdened the heart of the philanthropic 
 preacher, and his satisfaction was complete. The Gloucesterians love 
 and respect their pastor, and their unanimity is unbroken. They have 
 erected a new and elegant house of worship. In Salem also, and 
 in Portsmouth and Charlestown, in New-York, and in Philadelphia, 
 commodious buildings are reared to the honour of GOD OUR SAVIOUR. 
 
 On Wednesday. 23d of October, 1793, the installation of Mr. Mur- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 tay, took place in the Universal Meeting-house in Boston : the Pre- 
 siding Deacon, addressed the church and congregation. 
 
 " Brethren, it having pleased the Father of mercies to unite in bonds 
 of Christian love and affection the hearts of the people, usually wor- 
 shipping in this place, in the choice of Mr. John Murray for their Pas- 
 tor and Teacher. We have accordingly assembled together, at this 
 time and place, for the solemn purpose of ratifying here below, what 
 we humbly trust is already recorded in heaven. It is the duty of all 
 men, at all times, and in all places, humbly to implore the direction of 
 the great Head of the Church, in all their lawful undertakings." (Then 
 followed an appropriate prayer by Mr. Murray.) A fter which, the Deacon 
 demanded of the church and congregation, as they had heretofore ex- 
 pressed their desire, that Mr. Murray should become their Pastor, and 
 Teacher, if, at this time, they continued of that mind, they would pub- 
 licly confirm it, by vote which wm unanimous. He then requested 
 Mr. Murray's answer, which being given in the affirmative, he conclud- 
 ed his address : u I, therefore, in the name and behalf of this church 
 and congregation supported by the constitution of this Commonwealth, 
 declare you, John Murray, to be the Pastor and Teacher of this First 
 Universal Church in Boston ; and in their name I present unto you 
 the sacred Volume, as the rule of your faith and practice, and as con- 
 taining a perfect and complete revelation of the perfections and will of 
 God ; and I furthermore declare unto you, that so long as you contin- 
 ue to preach the gospel, as delineated in these sacred pages, which is 
 glad tidings of great joy to every creature, as the purchase of the blood 
 ot limnanuel, so long you shall be considered as our Pastor, and no 
 longer. And now, dearly beloved Sir, " I charge thee, therefore, be- 
 fore God and the Loid Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick, and the 
 dead, at His Appearing, and His Kingdom ; to Preach the Worti, 
 be Instant in Season, out of Season ; Reprove, Rebuke, Exhort, with 
 all long Suffering, and Doctrine. In all things showing thyself a Pat- 
 tern of Good Works : In Doctrine showing Uncormptness, Gravity, 
 Sincerity, Svund Speech that cannot be condemned ; that he that is of 
 the contrary part, may be Ashamed, having no Evil thing to say of yon. 
 A Workman that needeth not to be Ashamed, Rightly Dividing the 
 Word of TrutJi. And now, sir, commending you with the Church, 
 and Congregation, over which the Holy Ghost hath made you Overseer, 
 to the care and protection of Him " that loved us and washed us from 
 our sins in His own blood," earnestly beseeching Him, to build us all 
 .up, in the unity of the One Spirit and iy the bond of peace. Now unto 
 
226 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Him who is abundantly able to perform all these things for us, arid to 
 present us ALL faultless before the throne of an Infinite Majesty, be all 
 honour, glory, dominion, and power, throughout the ages of time, and 
 a wasteless eternity, Amen." 
 
 Mr. Murray's reply was animated and replete with aiFection ; after 
 which, a hymn was performed by the choir of singers, accompanied by 
 the organ. Next, an excellent discourse by Mr. Murray, from 1. Cor. 
 ix. 14. " For though I preach the Gospel, I have nothing to glory of: 
 for necessity is laid upon me ; yea, woe is unto me if I preach not the 
 Gospe/." A collection for the distressed inhabitants of Philadelphia 
 succeeded the sermon, and an anthem suited to the solemnities of the 
 occasion was most admirably chanted. The whole was conducted with 
 strict decorum, to the satisfaction of a very numerous, respectable, and 
 attentive audience. 
 
 Perhaps no congregation were ever more unanimous, and more per- 
 fectly satisfied with the Pastor of their election, than were the people 
 worshipping in the Church in Bennet-Street ; and perhaps no Minister 
 was ever more unfeignedly attached to the people of his charge, than 
 was the long-wandering Preacher. Both the minister, and congrega- 
 tion might truly be said to worship the Most High in the beauty of ho- 
 liness. The ordinance of the Lord's supper was administered agreea- 
 bly to their ideas of its genuine import. Parents brought their children 
 into the great congregation, standing in the broad aisle, in the presence 
 of the worshippers of God ; the father received the babe from the 
 hands of the mother, and presented it to the servant of God ; who, 
 deriving his authority for this practice from the example of his Redeem- 
 er, who says, " suffer little children to come unto me," &c. &c. pro- 
 nounced aloud the name of the child, and received it as a member of 
 the mystical body of Him, who is the second Adam, the Redeemer of 
 Men. How often has his paternal heart throbbed with rapture, as he 
 has most devoutly repeated, " We dedicate thee to Him, to whom thou 
 properly belonged, to be baptized with His own baptism, in the name 
 of the Father, a?id of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; and we pro- 
 nounce upon thee that blessing, which He commanded his Ministers, 
 Moses, Aaron, and his Sons, to pronounce upon his people, saying, 
 The Lord bless thee, and keep thee ; The Lord make His face to shine 
 upon thee, and be gracious unto thee ; The Lord lift up His counte- 
 nance upon thee, and give thee peace" 
 
 The preacher, however, never surrendered the persuasion, that he 
 was sent out to preach the gospel, and his visits to his far distant friends 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 were frequently repeated ; yet these visits were always made by the as- 
 senting voice of the society, and he regarded every individual, congre- 
 gated under his directing auspices, as in an essential and solemn sense 
 his children. A gentleman, attending in the church in Bennet-street, 
 addressing Mr. Murray by letter, thus observes : " I was very 
 much pleased at your meeting ; the orderly, respectable, and serious 
 demeanour of your society ; their silent, and fixed attention upon you, 
 penetrated me with sentiments of attachment and satisfaction, and I 
 forbore not to invoke the providence of God, that no froward, or ad- 
 verse spirit, should interrupt the harmony which now so evidently sub- 
 sists between you." 
 
 Yes, it is indeed true, that Mr. Murray considered the interests of the 
 people of his charge as his own. Most fondly did he cherish, and per- 
 severingly did he seek, by every possible means, to advance their repu- 
 tation. He sympathized with the afflicted, and largely partook their 
 sorrows ; while, so often as the course of events brought joy to their 
 bosoms, his eye beamed gladness, and his tongue exulted to dwell 
 upon facts, which illumined the hours of his protracted pilgrimage. 
 His voice, at the bed of death, vas the herald of consolation. Are there 
 not uncounted numbers, still passing on, in this vale of tears, who, while 
 attending upon their expiring relatives, have witnessed the divine effects 
 emanating from the luminous understanding of the preacher, and light- 
 ing up a blissful smile of anticipated felicity, amid the agonies of dis- 
 solving nature. To the aged he delighted to administer consolation ; 
 his presence gave a face of cheerfulness to those social hours, which the 
 numerous classes, with whom he mingled, were wont to appropriate 
 to enjoyment. Children lisped with infantile transport the name 
 of the philanthropic preacher, and they were even eloquent in 
 expressions of unfeigned attachment. The pleasures of young people, 
 if under the dominion of innocence, were uniformly sanctioned by their 
 Preacher ; and his appearance in well regulated circles of hilarity, so 
 far from clouding, was always considered as the harbinger of high- 
 wrought entertainment. If we except a single instance, we do not know, 
 that, through a series of revolving years, the harmony subsisting between 
 the minister and his congregation, suffered either interruption or diminu- 
 tion. This instance originated in political pertinacity. Party spirit 
 occasionally ran very high ; and federal and democratic leaders were 
 among the adherents of Mr. Murray. A July Oration was to be de- 
 livered ; much invidious disquisition was afloat ; but it is fruitless to 
 delineate ; suffice it to suy, that this oration, and its consequences, were 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 pregnant with anguish to an oft-stricken heart ; but, blessed be God, the 
 threatening aspect of affairs, which seemed to gather darkness, was soon 
 dispersed, and the sun of righteousness seemed to break forth, with re- 
 newed splendor. Nor is it wonderful, that transient animosities exist- 
 ed ; it is rather astonishing they were not more frequent. It was truly 
 affecting, it was beautiful, and eminently consolatory, to behold per- 
 sons of the warmest feelings, and strongest prejudices, depositing 
 every dissenting, every foreign sentiment, at the foot of the cross, meet- 
 ing, and mingling souls, and emphatically, although tacitly, saying to 
 every minor consideration, " Tarry ye here, while we go up to worship." 
 Too soon have the years of felicity fled away. They rise to view 
 like the vision of some blissful era, which we have imagined, not 
 realized. Suddenly we were aroused from our dream ot security ; the 
 torpid hand of palsy blighted our dearest hopes ; the Preacher, the 
 Head, the Husband, the Father, was in a moment precipitated from a 
 state of high health, and prostrated beneath the tremendous stroke of 
 the fell destroyer. *- 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815, including 
 the closing scene. 
 
 Portentously the dense, dark cloud arose ; 
 
 Long was the night, surcharg'd with clust'ring woes; 
 
 But, blest Religion, rob'd in spotless white, 
 
 With torch of faith, pointing; to realms of light, 
 
 March'd splendid on ; wide o'er the brightening way, 
 
 Leading the saint to never-ending day. 
 
 WT was upon the nineteenth day of October, one thousand eight hun- 
 dred and nfne, that the fatal blow was given to a life so valuable, 
 so greatly endeared, so truly precious; but, although the corporeal 
 powers of the long active preacher, became so far useless, as to render 
 him as helpless as a new-born babe ; although he was indeed a com- 
 plete cripple, yet the saint still lingered ; was still detained by the all- 
 wise decree of the Most High, a prisoner in his clay-built tenement, nor 
 did his complete beatification take place until the Sabbath morning of 
 September 3d, lacking only a few days of six complete years. Yet 
 was his patience, so far as we have known, unexampled. No murmur 
 against the inflictions of heaven escaped his lips; praises of his paternal 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 229 
 
 Creator were still found upon his tongue, and the goodness of his God 
 continued his enduring theme. Unwavering in his testimony, he re- 
 peatedly, and most devoutly, said: "No man on earth is under so 
 many obligations to Almighty God as myself ; yes, I will adore the 
 great Source of Being so long as I shall exist, and every faculty of my 
 soul shall bless my redeeming Creator." Yet, it is true, that when the 
 once cheerful sabbath bells vibrated upon his ear, he would frequently 
 lift towards heaven a humid eye, and mournfully articulate: " Alas ! alas ! 
 it is not with me as heretofore, when I could hear the tribes devoutly say, 
 " Up, Israel, to the temple haste, and keep this festal day :" Soon, 
 however, his mind was hushed to peace, by calm, and firm confidence 
 in his God, and he would add " Well, well, when I awake in thy 
 likeness, I shall be satisfied. We are asleep in the present state ; we 
 are asleep in the likeness of the earthy man ; all our uneasy sensations 
 are unpleasant dreams. Pleasures, derived from mere terrestrial enjoy- 
 ments, detached from intellect, are also dreams, and, like the baseless 
 fabric of a vision, shall not leave a wreck behind. But if my life have 
 been a continued sleep, and the greater part of my pains, and pleasures, 
 dreams ; yet, while this deep sleep has been upon me, the Almighty hath 
 instructed me ; yes, blessed be His name, the roof of His mouth is as 
 the best wine, which goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those who 
 are asleep to speak. O ! for more of this best wine, that my lips may 
 show forth his praise, that I may drink and forget all sorrow" 
 
 Thus was the tenor of his mind generally acquiescent, and his impa- 
 tience to be gone was frequently subdued, by an operative conviction 
 of the sovereign wisdom, as well as paternal love of Deity. His bible 
 was his constant companion. Seated by his affectionate assistant, in 
 his easy chair, and the book of God opened before him, the man of pa- 
 tience, during six succeeding years, passed the long summer mornings 
 from the sun's early beams, in examining and re-examining the WILL OF 
 HIS AUGUST FATHER. He had, through a long life, been conversant 
 with a variety of English authors. Poets, dramatic writers, essayists, 
 and historians, were familiar to him ; he took great delight in perusing 
 them ; but, travelling through those multiplied pages, might be termed 
 his excursions, while the sacred volume was his INTELLECTUAL HOME. 
 Many hours in every day were devoted to the attentive perusal of the 
 scriptures, and yet his sentiments were unvaried ; not a single feature of 
 the system, he had so long advocated, was changed. 
 
 Mr. Murray was fond of calling himself the Lord's prisoner ; and he 
 would add, I am, by consequence, a prisoner of hope. During hi* 
 
 FF 
 
230 WPE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 confinement many respectable gentlemen, clergymen in Boston, visited 
 him. One or two repeated their visits, and they apparently regarded 
 the now white-haired servant of God, with kindness and respect. One 
 clergyman questioned him respecting his then present views, wishing 
 to be ascertained if his faith were still in exercise, if he were willing to 
 depart. " O yes, yes, yes," exclaimed the long-illumined Christian, 
 " the glorious manifestations of divine love still brighten upon me. 
 Right precious to my soul are the promises, the OATH OF JEHOVAH ; 
 and, sir, so far from shrinking from my approaching change, my only 
 struggle is for patience to abide, until the time appointed for my eman- 
 cipation. I would cultivate a humble, child-like resignation ; but hope 
 deferred, doth indeed too often make the heart sick." Another gentle- 
 man congratulated him on his apparent convalescence " Oh ! sir," he 
 returned, " the voice of gladness suits not my present feelings ; it is, as 
 if, when I believed I was voyaging to my native shores, where health, 
 happiness, and peace awaited me, borne onwards by gales the most 
 propitious, and supposing myself almost in the moment of obtaining the 
 long desired haven, when suddenly driven back by some adverse cir- 
 cumstance, instead of being soothed by condolence, I am pierced to the 
 soul by the discordant sounds of felicitation." Yet, we repeat, the 
 revered teacher was in general astonishingly patient, resigned, and even 
 cheerful. He was frequently heard to say,that he had experienced, in the 
 course of his confinement, more of the abundant goodness of his God, 
 than through the whole of his preceding life; and those, most conversant 
 with him, could not forbear observing, that the protracted period which 
 would in prospect have risen to the eye with a most melancholy, if not 
 terrific aspect, taken as a whole, exhibited the saint more equal, calm, 
 and dignified, than any other six years of his existence. A respectable 
 gentleman, not of his persuasion, but candid and benign, remarked, that 
 his character was elevated to no common height ; that his uncomplain- 
 ing endurance of suffering, and the unwavering steadfastness of his faith, 
 had stamped his testimony with the seal of integrity, and gave thai 
 confirmation to his confidence in his own views of sacred writ, which 
 .could not fail of rejoicing the hearts of his adherents. 
 
 The chamber of adversity was occasionally illumined by the presence 
 'of a few fast friends.; and ONE sympathizing, kind-hearted, affectionate 
 brother was so uniform in his appearance, with the close of every week, 
 that we might almost have designated the day, and the hour of the 
 evening, by his approaches. Nor was the demise of his jteacher the 
 period of his kindness : his countenance, his aid, his commiseration. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 231 
 
 bis society, are still loaned to the solitary, the bereaved family. Deal- 
 faithful man ! May the rich blessings of Almighty God rest upon thee 
 and thine, until thou hast finished thy mortal career, and niayest thou, 
 in the regions of blessedness, renew, with thy beloved teacher, that 
 friendship which, while tenanted in clay, thou hast so well known to 
 appreciate. 
 
 To three other gentlemen, devoted adherents to the lamented de- 
 ceased, warm acknowledgments are, also, most righteously due. Their 
 kind, and still continued attentions, are gratifying proof of their attach- 
 ment to him, who was so dear to them, and gratitude hath, with mourn- 
 ful alacrity, reared her altars in the bosoms of the widow, and the 
 fatherless. 
 
 Some strange occurrences were noted, which filled the heart of the 
 venerable man of God with sorrow, unutterable sorrow. Every thing 
 seemed to point his passage homeward to the sky, and upon Lord's day 
 morning, August twenty-seventh, one thousand eight hundred and fif- 
 teen, at four o'clock, an especial summons was despatched by the 
 Most High, to recal his long-tried servant; but alas! we did not re- 
 cognize the messenger; we rather believed, that the circumstances, 
 which marked the acknowledged change, would look with a friendly 
 aspect upon the health of the beloved man, during the succeeding au- 
 tumn and winter; but the honoured sufferer himself, apparently better 
 informed, anticipatingly observed " Who knows, perhaps the liberat- 
 ing hour is at hand ;" and his feelings were always elated or depressed, 
 inexact proportion as the moment of his departure seemed to advance, or 
 recede. The progress of the new disease was astonishingly rapid. A 
 physician was summoned, who permitted the indulgence of hope. On 
 Tuesday, 29th, his complaints evidently abated, insomuch, that while 
 the features of his strongly marked face expressed the deepest mortifica- 
 tion, he tremulously exclaimed, " Am I then once more thrown back, 
 the melancholy subject of alternate hope and fear '?" On Wednesday, 
 every symptom increased, he obtained little rest, and hope manifestly 
 triumphed in his bosom. Another physician was called in, whose 
 doubtful answers to proposed questions created much alarm. He 
 seemed to consider nature as surrendering her offices. In the course of 
 Thursday, 31st, he repeatedly, and earnestly said, "I cannot be suffi- 
 ciently thankful to God, my Saviour, that I suffer no pain, either of 
 body, or mind." To a young, and tenderly interested friend, he smil- 
 ingly observed, " I am hastening through the valley of the SHADOW of 
 death ; I am about to quit this distempered state : yet a little moment, 
 
232 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 and I shall be received into the city of the living God, with the innu- 
 merable company of the apostles, and spirits of just men made perfect, 
 and I shall continue for ever, in the presence of my divine Master." 
 
 His family solicited his blessing. " You are blessed," he replied, 
 " you are blessed with all spiritual blessings in Christ Jesus ; and, re- 
 member," he added, fixing his dying eyes upon them, " remember, 
 that however tried in this world, there is another, and a better state of 
 things ; and that, although pierced in this vale of tears by the arrows of 
 unkindness and ingratitude, there is One who loveth you, with an ever- 
 lasting love, and who will never leave you nor forsake you." 
 
 On Friday morning, September 1st, some expressions gave positive 
 proof of his sanity ; but as the day advanced, his derangement was sup- 
 posed unquestionable, and from this hour, until Saturday evening, a 
 little after sunset, he continued, with few intervals, incoherently repeat- 
 ing the most consolatory passages in the book of God. His right hand 
 was constantly in motion, and when any one approached, whatever 
 might be the question, the answer was ready. " To HIM," said the 
 expiring Christian, " SHALL THE GATHERING ov THE PEOPLE BE, AND 
 
 HlS REST SHALL BE GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS, GLORIOUS. I am blessed 
 
 with all spiritual blessings, in Christ Jesus. Nor I alone, CHRIST 
 
 JESUS HATH TASTED DEATH FOR EVERY MAN," &C. &C. These God- 
 
 honouring, man-restoring truths, were audibly articulated, while voice 
 and strength continued ; and when speaking only in a whisper, to the 
 listening ear applied to his moving lips, it was ascertained that the same 
 consolatory assurances still dwelt upon his tongue. Was this deliri- 
 um ? or, if it were, was it not a delirium irradiated by the powerful 
 influence of redeeming love ? Did not the luminous truths, upon which 
 the noble, the capacious mind, had so long reposed, beam refulgent over 
 the scattering fragments, then dissolving, which had for a term of more 
 than seventy years, embodied the immortal tenant ? 
 
 Almost/ immediately after sunset, on Saturday evening, he ceased to 
 speak ; his right hand no longer waved, and he continued in the same 
 position, in which the enduring kindness of his faithful assistant had 
 placed him, until six o'clock, Lord's-day morning, September third, 
 one thousand eight hundeed and fifteen ; when, without a sigh, or a 
 struggle, or a single distortion of countenance, he expired. His long- 
 imprisoned spirit escaped to the God who gave it. 
 
 It did not appear, through the whole of Friday and Saturday, that he 
 suffered the least pain, except when an attempt was made to move him. 
 His breath grew shorter and shorter, like the sweet sleep of a tired in- 
 fant, until it could no more be distinguished. He departed this life in 
 the seventy-fifth year of his age. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 Sacred be the scene which immediately succeeded. We do not wish 
 we attempt not to lift the veil ; but we exult in the conviction, that 
 we shall, ere long, follow the emancipated spirit to the abodes of bless- 
 edness. 
 
 The interment could be deferred only until Monday evening, Sep- 
 tember 4th. The ebbing attachment of certain individuals now rever- 
 ted to its pristine channel. Funereal honours were promptly and unan- 
 imously decreed. The children of the society, distinguished by a badge 
 of mourning, preceded the body ; a long, solemn, well-ordered and 
 respectable procession followed the train of mourners ; private carriages 
 were added to those appointed by the society ; the body was deposited 
 upon stands in the aisle of the Church ; the pulpit and galleries were 
 hung with black ; religious exercises were performed ; when it was 
 entombed with the ashes of those to whom he had been fondly attached. 
 Every thing, which immediately referred to the sacred, the INDIVIDUAL 
 remains of the deceased, was liberally provided by the religious adhe- 
 rents of the promulgator, and the arrears which would have been due to 
 the family, had the vote of March, 1815, been similar to that of 
 March 1814, were paid, to a single farthing. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 " And now the feverish dream of Life is o'er." 
 
 TTTAD we talents, we would exhibit a portrait of the deceased : But, 
 besides that we feel ourselves inadequate to a task so arduous, 
 we are not perfectly convinced of its propriety. Friendship might be 
 too warm, and admiration too lavish. His colleague has been his eulo- 
 gist, and no friend of the deceased will pronounce the panegyric an 
 exaggeration. Perhaps it floes not contain a more just, or a more happy 
 paragraph than the following : " Without a second to aid him, you saic 
 him pass along these shores from Maryland to New- Hampshire, like 
 the lonely Pelican of the wilderness, publishing, as with the voics of an 
 angel, the tidings of everlasting life to the whole world, in the name, 
 and through the mission of our Lord Jesus Christ.'' 1 
 
 It has been said that persuasion dwelt upon the lips of our philanthro- 
 pist. The pages of recollection furnish many instances of his powerful, 
 and soul-subduing eloquence. We are impelled to select, from the 
 fading Record, two facts, which are well authenticated : 
 
234 LIFE OP RET. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 A London mob had assembled in great force, with the most destruc- 
 tive and murderous designs. Time-honoured edifices were to be de- 
 molished, and the weapons of death to be pointed at the most valuable 
 lives. This scene of riot was exhibited during the troubles relative to 
 Mr. Wilkes ; all was tumult and tremendous uproar ; an attempt at 
 reasoning was stifled by outrageous clamour ; the efforts of peace offi- 
 cers were fruitless, and the military was on the point of being called into 
 action, when Mr. Murray, returning from some religious meeting to hii 
 peaceful home, found himself in the midst of the infuriated rioters, and 
 instantly mounting a stand, which opportunely presented, he harangued 
 the lawless multitude ; and, by soothing their prejudices, addressing 
 their passions, arid pointing out the only legitimate steps for the purpose 
 of obtaining redress, he first obtained silence, next softeaed and ame- 
 liorated their passions, and finally dispersed without mischief a most 
 enraged populace. A nobleman, seizing him by the hand, impressively 
 said, " Young man, I thank you ; I am ignorant of your name, but I 
 bear testimony to your wonderful abilities. By your exertions, much 
 blood and treasure have this night been saved." 
 
 The second instance which we present is nearer home. A motion 
 was made in the legislature of a sister state, then province, to raise a sum 
 of money rbr-4he relief of the Bostonians, suffering from the severe de- 
 crees of a British ministry. Mr. Murray attended the debates ; the 
 motion was seconded, and supported, with spirit and judgment, and it 
 was opposed with some violence, and little reason. It was put to vote, 
 and lost by a majority of twelve persons ; Mr.Murray's particular adher- 
 ents voting against it. It happened he was. on that day, to dine at the house 
 of a Doctor B r , one of the triumphant majority, with several gen- 
 tlemen on the same side of the question, when his powerful animadver- 
 sions, and reasoning upon the subject, wrought so great a revolution, as 
 to produce a reconsideration of the vote, and the motion for succouring 
 the Bostonians, passed by a majority of nine persons. 
 
 Mr. Murray has been accused of licentious opinions and practices. 
 His letters to his friends would fill many volumes; addressed to the 
 private ear of those he best loved, they ought to decide upon his opin- 
 ions ; and, for his life, perhaps no man of abilities so stinted was ever 
 a greater blessing to mankind. We indulge ourselves with giving one 
 letter, written to the son of a most intimate friend : 
 
 " You are placed at school for two purposes ; the improvement of 
 your understanding, and the formation of virtuous principles. It cannot 
 be doubted that the improvement of the heart is esteemed by those to 
 
11FE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 235 
 
 whom you are most dear, beyond the most cultivated intellect It is 
 your business to unite these estimable objects ; your heart and under- 
 standing should be emulous in pursuit of excellence. Ethics, improved 
 and elevated by the Christian religion, become the guides to real wis- 
 dom and solid happiness ; these they could never have attained in 
 the schools of heathen philosophy. It 1s not expected that you should 
 thus early be engaged in the profound disquisitions of theology. The 
 plain doctrines of the religion, which it is hoped you will profess, have 
 been explained to you ; but the principal business is to open your heart 
 for the reception of those sentiments and principles, which will conduce 
 to the direction of your actions, in the employments and engagements of 
 your subsequent life. Permit me, however, to remind you of the ne- 
 cessity of reading the scriptures, that is, of drinking the sacred waters at 
 the fountain head. But, to read the scriptures with advantage, judgment 
 is necessary, and as your judgment is not yet matured, you must submit 
 to the direction of your instructors. The plainest, and most perspicu- 
 ous passages will, for the present, best deserve and reward your atten- 
 tion. The historical parts of the Old Testament will entertain you, if 
 you consider them only in a classical point of view, as valuable passages 
 of ancient history ; but I would call your attention more immediately 
 to the books which are most replete with moral instruction, such as the 
 Proverbs of Solomon, the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach, and the ad- 
 mirable book entitled, Ecclesiasticus. I trust the time will come, when 
 the prophecies will most pleasingly instruct you ; at present you will 
 peruse them for the poetical beauties, which they confessedly display. 
 Isaiah abousds with fine passages of this description, and Jeremiah is 
 by no means deficient in this line. You have no doubt read Pope's 
 Messiah, and could not but have observed, that its most pleasing image- 
 ry is selected from Isaiah. If you read the Old Testament with a taste 
 for its beauties, you will accomplish two important purposes ; you will 
 acquire a knowledge of the Holy Bible, which is your duty, and you 
 will improve your taste and judgment. The New Testament requires 
 the attention of every one, who professes himself a Christian. You 
 must read it with that humility, which becomes a finite being, but more 
 particularly a young person ; you will do well to pay especial attention 
 to the sermon on the Mount, and to that admirable epitome of all 
 moral philosophy, the RULE OP DOING TO OTHERS, AS WE WOULD 
 THEY SHOULD DO UNTO us. If you pay due obedience to this pre- 
 cept, you will never hesitate in determining what part you are, upon 
 <*very occasion, IQ act. It is proper you should familiarize your mind 
 
LIFE OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 to the language of scripture ; although you may not fully comprehend 
 the sacred writings, you will thus treasure up in your memory many 
 useful passages, which may become in future highly consolatory. An 
 early acquaintance with the letter of the old and new testaments, has 
 been found substantial props through lengthening years ; but all this, 
 my dear young friend, will avail but little, unless you add thereto 
 prayer and praise. Make it therefore a rule, never to be violated, to 
 pray night and morning. The Redeemer, while clothed in humanity, 
 earnestly and fervently addressed the Deity ; forget not, therefore, to 
 offer your private addresses to the Father of your spirit, at retiring to 
 rest, and with the early dawn. Your age is the age of inadvertence ; 
 you enjoy health, and you are a stranger to the cares of the world. 
 Cheerfulness does indeed become you, but let me pray you to consider 
 the value of time, and the importance of appropriating it to wisdom. 
 Consider your parents; the anxiety they experience upon your account; 
 most ardently do they desire your improvement. Laudably ambitious, 
 they are solicitous that you should be eminent, in whatever profession 
 or employment you may be destined to engage. To see you con- 
 temptible, would fill them with the extreme of anguish ; and, trust me, 
 nothing will rescue you from contempt, but individual merit, a good 
 disposition, adorned by literature, and embellished by the lighter ac- 
 complishments, and especially elevated by Christianity. Your parents 
 have laboured indefatigably, to promote you ; but it remains with your- 
 self to give success to their endeavours. The mind is not like a vessel, 
 into which we may pour any good quality, whatever the director may 
 ehoose ; it is rather like a plant, which, by the operation of its own 
 internal powers, imbibes the nutriment afforded by the earth. I repeat ; 
 it is certain, that instructors can serve you only, in conjunction with 
 your own efforts. Let me then entreat you to exert yourself, if you 
 have any regard for those parents, whose happiness so much depends 
 upon your conduct ; if you have any regard for your own honour, 
 felicity, and prosperity ; if you hope to be useful, and respected in 
 
 society. 
 
 " Always consider me as your friend and servant, 
 
 JOHN MURRAY." 
 
 If the testimony of respectable cotemporaries ; of men who disdained 
 flattery, and whose judgment was unquestionable ; who delighted to 
 address our departed friend in the strains of panegyric if these vou- 
 chers were permitted to decide in his favour, we could produce a cloud 
 of witnesses. We content ourselves with a few extracts, from the ma- 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 267 
 
 ny letters which might be produced. General Greene thus writes : 
 " You may remember, I promised you a letter at the close of every 
 campaign. H'id I the tongue of a Murray to proclaim, or the pen of 
 a Robertson to record, the occurrences of this campaign should be de- 
 lineated to the honour of America- The Monmouth battle, and the 
 action upon Rhode- Island, were no small triumphs to us, who had so 
 often been necessitated to turn our backs. To behold our fellows, 
 chafing the British off the field of battle, afforded a pleasure, which you 
 can better conceive, than I describe. If, my dear Murray, I had be- 
 fore been an unbeliever, I have had sufficient evidence of the interven- 
 tion of Divine Providence, to reclaim me from infidelity ; my heart, I 
 do assure you, overflows with gratitude to Him, whose arm is mightier 
 than all the Princes of the earth. In the midst of difficulties, and I 
 have encountered many, my heart reverts to you ; were you addressing 
 me from the pulpit, you could convince me that considering the World 
 to which I am hastening, I have not the least cause of complaint I 
 sigh for an opportunity of listening to the music of your voice. 
 
 "Are you and the priests upon any better terms ? Or are they as mad 
 vrith you as ever ? Well, go on, and prosper, and may God bless you 
 to the end of the chapter." Again, General Greene writes : " It is, 
 my dear sir, a long time since you and t have had a friendly meeting. 
 God only knows when we shall be thus blest. It is impossible for me 
 to give you an adequate idea of the distress of the once happy people of 
 New Jersey ; I know your fancy is lively, and your genius fertile ; 
 give your faculties full scope, in drawing a picture, and it will still fall 
 far short of the original. How greatly would you be pained were you 
 present ; you who sympathize with every thing in distress, and feel, and 
 share the miseries of all around you. Oh, my dear friend, may God 
 preserve you from such complicated distress. Soon after you left me 
 upon Long Island,! was seized with a violent fit of sickness ; my resto- 
 ration was unexpected, but my health is now confirmed. Oh what 
 would I give for a few hours uninterrupted conversation with our dear 
 Murray. I beseech you to visit Mrs. Greene in Coventry/' One 
 more extract from the letters of General Greene shall suffice. " Once 
 more on the close of the campaign, I am to announce to my very dear 
 friend, that I am still an inhabitant of this globe. We have had a hard 
 and bloody campaign, yet we ought rather to dwell upon the mercies 
 we have receive J, than to repine because they are not greater. But 
 man is a thankless creature ; yet you, dear Murray, know, that the mer- 
 cies of God are happily proportioned to our weakness. Retired to 
 
 GG 
 
238 LIFE OP REV. JOHN MUPPAY. 
 
 winter quarters, the social passions once more kindled into life. Love 
 and friendship triumph over the heart, and the sweet pleasure of do- 
 mestic happiness, call to remembrance my once happy circle of friends, 
 in which you my dear Sir, appear in the first rank. My friendship for 
 you is indeed of the warmest description. My attachment was not 
 hastily formed, and it will not easily he relinquished. I early admired 
 your talents ; your morals have earned my esteem ; and neither dis- 
 tance nor circumstances will diminish my affection." 
 
 The subjoined extracts are from letters written by gentlemen of high 
 respectability, in the mercantile, literary, and Christian world. The first 
 extract is from a letter, soliciting a visit from the Preacher. 
 
 " The grand, the glorious expedition, in which you are engaged, to 
 disseminate truth, and knowledge ; the assurances we can give you 
 how little is known here, and how eagerly it is wished, that the ways of 
 God to man should be made manifest, will I trust induce you to make 
 an exertion in our behalf. My ardent prayer is for your life, and health- 
 The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few ; yet I trust in 
 God, that the beams of light will irradiate this benighted world, and 
 that he will accelerate that eternal day, when the Son shall give up the 
 kingdom to the Father, and God shall be all in all." 
 
 " You solicit me to write ; my writing can afford you no novelty, 
 for what intellectual ground is there, that you have not trod, or that I 
 can mark out, which you have not before observed. I am wearied 
 with reiterated reflection, and I pant for that sky, where I may range 
 without confinement. The simple truths of the gospel please me much. 
 I rest in confidence that Christ died for me, rose again for my justifica- 
 tion, and will make me completely blessed ; that I am essentially united 
 to, and a part of that nature, which pervades all space, and a spark of 
 that fire, that shall escape to heaven, its native seat. I recollect your 
 preaching with pleasure, and I bless God for the light he has been 
 pleased to convey to my mind, through your instrumentality ; may 
 your labours be blest with success ; but I predict the genuine Gospel 
 labourers will be but few. Poor man ! you must stand singly oppos- 
 ed, without human aid : be persuaded that the conflict will be inferior 
 to your strength. I really despise the world, for their treatment of you ; 
 but you know who says, " Be of good cheer, I have overcome the 
 /I'orW." What mildness was there in the majesty of the person of 
 the Redeemer ! He could have been no other than the Deity, enrobed 
 in a mantle of flesh. I venerate the liberal, the magnanimous principles 
 of your general and your colonel ; and I love them tor their friendship 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 239 
 
 for you, and the estimation in which they hold you. It is so rare to 
 meet with liberal and enlarged minds, that when I do, I exult at the 
 discovery, and my soul leaps to embrace them. Should you have, a 
 vacant moment, you will do well to fill it by writing to us, your chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " Never, my dear Murray, can I forget you, while memory holds 
 her seat in this benighted vale. The impressions are too lasting to be 
 effaged, and so deeply are they marked together, that, when the ideas of 
 the great redemption arise in my mind, those of Ilelly and Murray, are 
 inseparable therefrom, as the mediums through which sublime truth^ 
 beamed upon my soul. I am desirous of anticipating that adult age, 
 you so beautifully describe, when knowledge shall be conveyed, not by 
 the obstructed tongue, or tardy pen, but by intuition. But, my dear 
 sir, you must wait till that expected day, before I can tell you how 
 much T esteem, how much I love you. Among a number of things you 
 have taught me, I reckon it not the least, that the disposal of human 
 affairs is in the direction of a Being, whose operations will always pro- 
 duce the best consequences. I, however, find it difficult to suppress 
 the indignation I feel at the treatment you receive. What shall cure 
 these distempered minds 1 what shall compose the tumult of their fren- 
 zy, or rouse their feverish repose ? not the skill of an Isaiah, nor the 
 prayers of a Paul ; nothing short of the prescription of the grand Phy- 
 sician, who is the Healer of the Nations, and the application of that tree, 
 whose leaf is for medicine. My wishes for you in this case are vain ; 
 but I can never appreciate the aspirations of my heart ; not that you 
 may be exempt from the conflict, but that you may conquer, and you 
 will conquer ; your reward is above, secure from the rage of impotent 
 man, and the invasion of the grand adversary of human nature." 
 
 " To be possessed of your confidence and frindship, would be flat- 
 tering to me in the highest degree. My wishes are to deserve both. 
 You do indeed appear to me a chosen owe, an elect soul. Call these 
 expressions extravagant if you please, but they are as far short of what 
 I feel, as language is inadequate to the expression of the refined taste of 
 the mind." 
 
 " Among the almost innumerable systems, respecting our nature, 
 being, and our end, in which the world has been so perplexed, and 
 have exposed themselves so variously, none claims so fair a title to truth 
 as the one you promulgate. But the world have not so liberally attri- 
 buted goodness to Deity. Our benignant religion develops the good- 
 ness of God in the enlightening sun, the fructifying rain, the cheering 
 
240 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 wine, and the nutritious bread ; in short, in a thousand million exam- 
 ples, with which nature so liberally abounds. Indeed we should sel- 
 dom be unhappy, did we more constantly realize the presence of a 
 redeeming God. I admire the candour of your mind, which is ever 
 stepping forth, as the advocate of your friends, although I may occa- 
 sionally drop from that stand in your friendship, which it would be my 
 pride to maintain ; it is a persuasion, which I can never relinquish, that 
 the wanderings of my heart may be reclaimed in an instant. Your let- 
 ters are present with me, tliey are under my pillow ; I bind them to 
 me as phylacteries, and I attentively watch for a moment of leisure, to 
 acknowledge them. Murray, should you pass out of time before me, I 
 should experience some exquisitely painful sensations. O ! may you 
 be for a long, long time to come, invulnerable to the shafts of disease ; 
 yet why should I wish to turn the dart, that will give you passport to 
 a life of bliss and immortality ! You who agonize at the present state 
 of existence. No, let me neither accelerate, nor retard, even by a wish, 
 that period of humanity, but invoke our common Father that we may 
 be strengthened by the way, and with faith and patience quietly wait 
 the expected release." 
 
 " Your letter, my dear Murray, is like a great magazine, full of in- 
 struction and entertainment. Were I to attempt to give it due and just 
 consideration, I should write a volume, and probably not succeed at 
 last. You say, and I believe it, that we shall be built up again upon 
 a superior principle. The world is so involved in the wicked one, that 
 I am really glad to find any one willing to allow the goodness of God, 
 in any view ; it is at least one step toward a just way of thinking. I 
 pray you to be content with your present standing, you are too infirm 
 to visit far from home ; where you speak, you are heard by many 
 strangers, who enter your Capital, whom you know not, but who hear, 
 and know you ; so I think your station is clearly pointed out, to which 
 you do well to adhere. I regret exceedingly, that I cannot attend your 
 expositions of the ceremonial Law, in which I understand you are en- 
 gaged. Those laws are a deep and rich mine of instruction. The 
 Scriptures are ONE, like a great EPIC ; their action is ONE, the RES- 
 TORATION of a LOST NATURE. The subordinate parts evidently point 
 to the great HEAD and captain of our salvation. Go on, my dear Sir, 
 and may you be the means of bringing many sons to glory. Allow me 
 to say, you ought to write more frequently ; your diligence and activi- 
 ty are well known to me, but it seems incumbent upon you to give to 
 the world your explanations of the sacred writings. Yes, I repeat, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 2ii 
 
 you would do well to bestow some portion of your time to record and 
 elucidate, many passages which, when you are gone, may speak for 
 you. The event of your death, however dreaded, must be met by the 
 greater part of your hearers, and, although they may have remaining to 
 them the sacred writings, yet you are aware, that a preacher is necessa- 
 ry. I have compared you to some of the general elements of life, whose 
 good and salubrious existences are not known, until they are lost. I 
 consider you employed in removing the scales from the darkened eye* 
 fortifying the timid mind against the approaching dissolution of nature, 
 securing it from the blandishments of delusion, and leading it to 
 arm against the terrors of calamity and pain. I myself am indebted to 
 you in hundreds of instances for light, and most important information. 
 I need not repeat my best wishes to you ; they present themselves to 
 me in full, whenever your memory occurs to nie. I feel that it is here- 
 after, when you and I are liberated, that I shall derive a part of my 
 happiness from the perfection of your friendship. May the least and 
 lightest pains infest you here ; this is the utmost a mortal dare wish, or 
 request." 
 
 " Yes, my dear Sir, I am now sensible of the value of existence ; arid 
 the assurance of immortality has become my greatest happiness. The 
 time was, when, to my serious moments, immortality appeared garbed 
 in horror ; many a time have I wished I had never been born ; but, 
 blessed change, I can now perceive that light, which shined in me, even 
 then, although my darkness comprehended it not ; but, blessed be 
 God, my eyes are at length opened. O ! may God, all-gracious, watch 
 over you, and preserve you from every evil. The Almighty in great 
 mercy hath loaned you to a benighted world ; may the rich blessing 
 be long continued." 
 
 " Gratitude, dear and honoured Sir, calls upon me to acknowledge 
 my great obligations for the glorious declaration of those important, 
 truths, of which, until I had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Murray, I was 
 entirely ignorant. From that blessed era, I date the commencement 
 of my terrestrial felicity. Ttis to you, as an instrument, I am indebted 
 for a glimpse of the beautiful harmony of the sacred writings ; I can 
 now behold, with devout admiration, the great salvation promised us 
 by the word, by the OATH of Jehovah, in that holy book, which, although 
 possessed by many, is neither understood nor valued, except by a few 
 elected individuals. I much wish for your continued instruction; and I 
 know . you take pleasure in considering it your duty to impart your 
 knowledge of the Redeemer to the creature, whom He hath purchased 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 with His blood. Would it were the will of God to give you a perma- 
 nent standing among the circle of my friends, who are so greatly devo- 
 ted to you ; then, dear Sir, would our heaven be commenced upon 
 earth, and all would be one continued scene of uninterrupted praises 
 and thanksgiving, for the great Redemption, wrought out by the death 
 and sufferings of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Murray, how greatly you succeed, when engaged upon a theme 
 which I emphatically call YOUR OWN. I love to hear you speak upon 
 any subject ; but on this, you are, I had almost said, divine ; your 
 whole soul seems engaged, when dwelling upon the Redeemer, and 
 His love to man ; nothing but the voice of the God who made you, and 
 who hath so wonderfully endowed you, can exceed the honied accents 
 of your heaven-inspired tongue. Do you wonder that I am daily 
 wishing myself among the number of your hearers, your happy hearers ! 
 but how contrasted is the life of a soldier, to that of the peaceful Chris- 
 tian, seated at the feet of Jesus." 
 
 A respectable gentleman, writing, nearly two years since, from the 
 City of Philadelphia, and speaking relative to the recent publication of 
 the venerable, the now departed saint, gratefully says : "These volumes, 
 your Letters and Sketches, are all I hoped for, wished, or expected 
 they are much more. I bless God, not only for the treasures of wis- 
 dom committed to his venerable servant, but also that his valuable life 
 has been preserved to accomplish this work ; a production, which will 
 live, and be read with ineffable delight, when the rubbish of ages shall 
 have been consigned to oblivion." 
 
 Should any curiosity exist respecting Mr. Murray's political senti- 
 ments, it may be sufficient to say, that he was in heart an AMERICAN. 
 AMERICA was the Country of his adoption. He was decidedly and 
 uniformly opposed to the oppression of the British ministry, and he 
 would have embraced any upright measures to have procured redress ; 
 yet, perhaps, he wouid have been as well pleased, had England and 
 America been united upon terms of equality and reciprocal benefit; nor 
 can it be denied, that he was, indubitably, an Anti-Gallican. In our 
 opinion, a total dereliction of Country stamps miscreant upon the in- 
 dividual, who harbours feelings, so reprehensible, England was the 
 native Country of the Preacher ; the virtues flourished in his bosom, 
 among which the amor patriae glowed with no common lustre. He 
 frequently amused himself with writing in numbers, which, so soon as 
 written, he generally committed to the flames. The following inartifi- 
 cial lines, written one hour after he received intelligence of the demise 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 24$ 
 
 f the celebrated, and meritorious Earl of Chatham, may be considered 
 as a correct delineation of his political views and wishes. 
 
 " Swift on the car of fancy borne along, 
 And safely landed on my native Isle, 
 I join the mourning train, assembled there, 
 And stand unnoticed near the hallow'd corse : 
 I mark the empty pageantry of state, 
 A pageantry, alas ! not empty here, 
 For here are real signs of real woe ; 
 All ranks, all orders, mingle in the throng ; 
 Some raise the voice in majesty of woe : 
 Some silent stand as statues pale with grief- 
 At sight of these, my tears more copious flow. 
 
 Hark from yon seat a voice assails my ear, 
 Than music in its softest strains more sweet. 
 'Tis Camden ! favoured sage, exalted chief, 
 He calls his mourning country to attend, 
 As thus he pours the elegiac strain. 
 
 " From life's low vale, where all was calm repose, 
 And, taught by heaven, the mind drank classic lore, 
 To the tumultuous scenes of busy life, 
 This peerless man, in hour of dread dismay, 
 By pitying heaven, in mercy to our land, 
 Was summon'd forth. He gracious heard, and came, 
 Hail'd by Britannia's united voice ; 
 His royal master look'd benignly kind, 
 And bade him welcome to his arms, his heart ; 
 For howsoe'er remote their varied spheres, 
 Congenial souls, 'twould seem, inform'd them both. 
 
 No longer view'd as servant, but as friend, 
 In all his Sovereign's councils he had part, 
 Their hopes and fears, their aims and ends the same, 
 The Nation gave her treasures to his care, 
 Himself the richest TREASURE she possess'd ; 
 And anxious eyes from every rank were rais'd, 
 With serious awe, and steadfast hope to Him ; 
 Nor were their hopes, their expectations vain. 
 New life, new views, fresh vigor nerv'd his arm : 
 All that was wrong, his vigilance set right, 
 And, what was greater far, preserv'd it so. 
 The foes he met (for who from foes is free) 
 Were, to the peerless jewel of his worth, 
 Like toiling lapidary to the costly gem, 
 They made its brightness more conspicuous shine. 
 
 The fawning sycophant oft sought his smile, 
 But piercing eye-beams struck the caitiff blind ; 
 The foes to virtue trembled at his nod, 
 While her glad sons flock'd hovering round their Sire. 
 
241 UFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 The Merchant watch' d his eye ; the sons of Art, 
 The Swain who turns the glebe, but chiefly he 
 On glory bent, who plough' d the watery way, 
 Panting to grasp the treasures of the globe, 
 He carefully this Pole-star still observ'd, 
 And safely voyaged, with this star in view. 
 How wild, alas ! he'll wander now 'tis hid. 
 
 The secrets of all states, blest heaven-taught sage. 
 To thy pervading eye were all unveil'd, 
 And every dark intrigue was known to thee. 
 The Gallic power trembled at thy nod, 
 And proud Castalia, cowering, bent to thee. 
 In dire suspense the awe-struck Nations stood, 
 Nor could predict where next would burst the storm. 
 
 Lo ! as he points, our Castles float along, 
 And British thunders roil from shore to shore ; 
 The sooty tribes of Afric shrink appal I'd, 
 And China's crafty sons distrust their skill. 
 
 In this great Legislator's hand, our flag, 
 Like that fam'd wand into a serpent chang'd, 
 As Hebrew sages sung in days of yore, 
 Made every other flag obsequious bow, 
 And every Nation own'd or felt his power. 
 But, while remotest lands through fear obey'd. 
 His grateful Country serv'd w th filial love, 
 And every son of Albion shar'd his care. 
 
 Nor did the British garden, blooming round, 
 Alone engage the heavenly labourer's toil ; 
 With watchful eye he v.^w'd those tender shoots, 
 Whilome transplanted to Columbia's soil ; 
 Those tender lambs he gently led along, 
 And to their plaints still bent a parent's ear. 
 Dear, much lov'd offspring of this happy Isle, 
 With us, sincere, ye mourn the common loss ; 
 With us lament the Father and the Friend : 
 But, while our bursting heart* deplore his flight, 
 Perfidious Bourbon ghastly grins hia joy ; 
 The Gallic Cock now frebly claps his wings 
 And thinks to hear the Lion roar no more. 
 Base, treacherous, cringiiiff, dastard slaves, beware j 
 Although our Sun be set to rise no more, 
 The moon and stars shall gu'ile the Lion's paw 
 To seize thee trembling in thy close retreat. 
 Already mark ! he shai.es Ins shaggy mane, 
 And growling ri:->es from his murUy den ; 
 His eye-balls roll with rag? they shoot forth flames., 
 He grinds his teeth, and finds them solid still ; 
 He tries his paws, and finds his talons strong. 
 Our groans have rous'd him ; see, he sleeps no more. 
 But still the royal issue of this Isle, 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 This highly favour'd regent of the main, 
 Secure may stand, nor fear the Lion's rage. 
 
 What though the DEMONS of THIS LAND may strive, 
 To set the gen'rous Lion on her sons, 
 The Lion shrinks so ancient Bards declare 
 Nor will destroy the issue nobly born. 
 But those perfidious, who would set him on, 
 With ghastly looks, and souls appall'd by fear, 
 Too late shall feel the horrors of despair." 
 
 But it is the RELIGIONIST we are solicitous to characterize ; and al- 
 though the sentiments of the Preacher may be gathered from his wri- 
 tings, yet, as this Volume may come under the eye of some individuals, 
 who may not possess the publication to which we have so often alluded, 
 it may be proper, in this place to attempt a bnef outline of the most 
 prominent features in his creed. 
 
 His full soul believed in one GREAT AND INDIVISIBLE FIRST CAUSE, 
 or origin of all created beings ; before this great First Cause ONE ETER- 
 NAL NOW, WAS, is, AND WILL BE EVER PRESENT. Every thing which 
 has past, is passing, or shall pass, was ordained in His eternal purpose, 
 and actually passed in review before Him, ere ever the worlds were 
 formed, or countless systems commenced their revolutions. 
 
 The God of our Philanthropist was OMNIPOTENT, OMNIPRESENT? 
 and OMNISCIENT ; consequently he performed all his will ; was, is, and 
 will be, present through all space, through time and through eternity. 
 In the prosecution of His plans, myriads of angels, in their various or- 
 ders, were by his Omnipotent power commanded into being ; these 
 cherubim and seraphim, angels and arch angels, surrounded the throne 
 of the Most High. The inorning stars sang together, and all the hosts 
 of Heaven rejoiced. 
 
 But, strange as it may appear to our finite understanding, fell dis- 
 cord, with peace-destroying influence, reared his hydra, his tremendous 
 head. Various conjectures hover round this phenomenon. The ori- 
 gin of evil has exercised intellects the most profound and erudite ; but 
 he, who can develop the arcana of the Almighty, may claim equality 
 with his God. It should be our care not to attribute to Deity a mode 
 of conduct irreconcealible with rectitude ; and to keep close to that reve- 
 lation, which he hath graciously vouchsafed to bestow upon us. 
 
 The creation of man succeeded the fall of the angelic nature. God 
 said, Let Us make man, &c. &c./ Speaking in the plural, with an 
 eye to the complexity of that character He had predetermined to assume, 
 and, as we before observed, past, present., and future constituted, to the 
 
240 WFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ken of Deity, one complete whole ; and thus were important occurren- 
 ces garbed in language, suited to the elevation of the Godhead. In 
 process of time, this august Creator, was to be enrobed in humanity and 
 become the SON born ; was to be exhibited as a HOLY SPIRIT of con- 
 solation, taking of the things of Jesus, and exhibiting them to the mind, 
 thus speaking peace. Mr. Murray was at the same time a UNITARIAN, 
 and a TRINITARIAN, beholding, constantly beholding the trinity in the 
 unity. LET us make man in our image, after our own likeness. Yea, 
 verily, man may be considered as made in the imnge, and after the like- 
 ness of his Creator. The figure is striking ; man is a triune being, body, 
 soul, and spirit, yet no individual is considered as three, but one man, 
 the TRINITY in UNITY. The Almighty, clad in garments of flesh, 
 became the GOD-MAN, and, speaking of Himself as man, he says, my 
 Father is greater than me ; while, reverting to the divinity, he affirms, 
 the Father and He are ONE. Philip, have I been so long with thee, 
 and dost thou say, show me the Father ? he who hath seen me, hath 
 seen the Father. Was this true, or was Jesus Christ an Impostor ? 
 In this view the scriptures are beautifully consistent. I am GOD THE 
 SAVIOUR ; a just God and a Saviour ; THERE is NONE BESIDE ME. 
 This same evangelical prophet exultingty exclaims, Isaiah ix. 6. Unto 
 us a child is born, unto us a son is given, his name shall be called Won- 
 derful, Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince 
 of Peace. Such were the comprehensive views of Doity, which became 
 more and more luminous to the mental eye of the Preacher. 
 
 He believed, that the creation of human beings made a part of the di- 
 vine purpose ; in which sacred, uncontrolable, and irreversible purpose, 
 the WHOLE FAMILY OF MAN were originally and intimately united to 
 their august Creator, in a manner MYSTERIOUS, and as much beyond 
 our limited conception, as the Creator is superior to the creature whom 
 HE hath formed. 
 
 Adam the first was a figure of Adam the second. Adam the first, 
 the prototype ; Adam the second, the substance of the prototype, the 
 Creator of all Worlds, the Lord from Heaven. The sacred scriptures 
 abound with figures of this mysterious, this ennobling, this soul-satisfy- 
 ing UNION ; among which, perhaps, none is more expressive than that 
 of the Head and Members constituting one body, of w r hich Jesus Christ 
 was the immaculate Head. Hence the propriety and necessity, of look- 
 ing with a single eye to Jesus Christ. We are members of the body 
 of Christ, who is the head of every man : Should a single member of 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 247 
 
 this mystical body be finally lost, the Redeemer must, through eternity, 
 remain IMPERFECT. 
 
 A Law was given, to the complete obedience of which, everlasting 
 life was annexed ; but no individual member was ever able to fulfil this 
 Law ; it was only the head and members collectively in their glorious 
 head, that was furnished with abilities adequate to a performance of 
 such vast magnitude. Yea verily, we do indeed break the divine Law* 
 in thought, in word, and in deed, and the lip of truth declares, he who 
 offends in one point is guilty of all. 
 
 Why then was the commandment so exceeding broad ? To con- 
 vince mankind of imbecility ; and that the rectitude they had forfeited, 
 could never, in their own individual characters, be regained. But the 
 plan of Deity was without an error, the revolution of time ushered in 
 the great Representative, or more properly speaking, the Head of the 
 body ; and the forfeit was paid, full atonement was presented, the ran- 
 som given, and, in this hour of NATURE'S JUBILEE, the prodigal family 
 restored to their original possessor. 
 
 To make this truth manifest was the great business of our Promulga- 
 tor. He was convinced, that only he, who believed, could be saved ; 
 and that he, who believed not, was indubitably damned. Hence he. 
 has frequently said, he did not believe in universal salvation, because he 
 saw the majority of mankind were not saved. But he was a firm be- 
 liever in UNIVERSAL REDEMPTION ; because that sacred volume, which 
 he steadfastly, and unwaveringly believed to be the word of God, as- 
 sured him the price was paid, and the whole human family was re- 
 deemed. 
 
 It was the neglecting to distinguish between salvation and redemp- 
 tion, which so frequently drew upon the preacher the charge of prevarica- 
 tion, or, as it was termed by Mr. C , hiding. An article of intelli- 
 gence may be an established fact ; it may most importantly affect us ; 
 but so long as the mind refuses to admit its authenticity, we are undeni- 
 ably subjected to all those agonizing apprehensions, which we should 
 endure, if no such fact existed ; and it was the salvation from these 
 mental sufferings, which Mr. Murray supposed consequent upon a 
 preached Gospel ; in other words, an exemption from those tortures, 
 that consciousness of condemnation, which is most emphatically des- 
 cribed, when it is said, He who believeth not, is, or shall be damned. 
 
 Yet it is an established truth, that every believer was once an unbe- 
 liever ; every believer, then, was once damned, and it was only when 
 he became a believer, that he was saved from those countless agonies. 
 
248 LIFfe OP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 which erst times pierced him through with many sorrows. But he was 
 redeemed, the price was paid, ere ever he was called into existence. 
 Thus, in this view, redemption and salvation are distinct considerations. 
 The Preacher unhesitatingly believed, all who learned of the Father 
 would come to Jesus, and that all would finally be taught of God. He 
 was a decided believer in the doctrine of angels of light, and angels of 
 darkness, of ministering spirits of light, and of demons stimulating to 
 deeds of darkness. He looked forward to a judgment to come, when 
 countless numbers, among the children of men, would rise to the resur- 
 rection of damnation, and, ignorant of the genuine character of the Re- 
 deemer, would call upon the rocks and mountains to fall upon them, 
 and hide them from the WRATH OF THE LAMB ; and, believing himself 
 a humble instrument in the hand of God, ordained by Him to the min- 
 istry of reconciliation, he was never so completely happy, as when de- 
 claring the gospel to be believed ; and calling upon men, every where, 
 to receive the glad tidings of salvation. He was persuaded that those, 
 who lied down in sorrow, would continue unhappy wanderers, until 
 the opening of that book, in which every human being, every member 
 of Christ was written ; yet he had no idea of any purgation for sin, save 
 what was suffered by Christ Jesus, who, by Himself, purged our sins. 
 Writing of Mr. Winchester to a friend, Mr. Murray thus expressed 
 himself, " Mr. Winchester is full with Mr. Law, and of course preach- 
 es purgatorial satisfaction. According to these gentlemen, every man 
 must finally be his own Saviour ! If I must suffer as much, in my own 
 person, as will satisfy divine justice, how is, or how can Christ Jesus be, 
 my Saviour ? If this purgatorial doctrine be true, the ministry of re- 
 conciliation, committed to the Apostles, must be false ; " to wit, God 
 was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing unto 
 them their trespasses." In fact, I know no persons further from Chris- 
 tianity, genuine Christianity, than such Universalists." 
 
 Mr.Murray supposed the inquietude of unembodied, or departed spir- 
 its, a natural effect, derived from a cause. As unbelievers, they cannot 
 see the things which belong to their peace ; but he greatly rejoiced, that 
 however at present enveloped in darkness, there were, and are, things 
 that did and do belong to their peace, that the day cometh, when what- 
 soever is hid shall be revealed, and, that at the period of the restitution 
 of all things, the word, the oath of Jehovah was pledged, that every eye 
 should see, and every tongue confess. The Preacher was persuaded 
 that a few, even in the present dispensation, were elected out of the 
 world, to embrace the truth, previous to their passing out of time. 
 
LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 249 
 
 These, judging themselves, are therefore not to be judged ; Saints of 
 God, they shall surround the Redeemer at his second coming, or be 
 caught up in the air to meet the GOD-MAN ; after which, the whole 
 world shall be summoned at the imperial bar of the Sire of angels and 
 of men, the Creator of all worlds : That a separation will then take 
 place ; the Judge, the Redeemer will divide them, as a shepherd divides 
 the sheep from the goats ; will separate every individual from that body 
 of sin and death, of which Paul complained, being burdened ; from 
 that fallen spirit, which attaches to every individual in such sort as to 
 the man among the tombs, rendering it a truth, that he who sleepeth, 
 apparently alone upon his bed, is, nevertheless, still connected with his 
 tormentor, and will so continue, until this glorious day of separation, 
 and of restitution ; when these two shall be separated, one from anoth- 
 er, the one taken, and the other left. The fallen angels, figured by the 
 goats, shall be ranged on the left hand, while the harassed human na- 
 ture, redeemed by the God who created it, shall be found on the right 
 hand of the MOST HIGH. Thus, after the world is judged, out of the 
 things written in the books ; after they are found guilty before God, 
 and every mouth is stopped, the BOOK of LIFE SHALL BE OPENED, IN 
 
 WHICH ALL THE MEMBERS OF THE REDEEMER, EVERY INDIVIDUAL OF 
 
 THE HUMAN FAMILY, SHALL BE FOUND WRITTEN ; and the ransomed 
 of the Lord shall be declared denizens of that kingdom, where dwelleth 
 felicity uninterrupted. 
 
 Such were the leading sentiments of OUR UNIVERSALIST ; and he 
 was firmly of opinion, that the doctrines of the Gospel, rightly under- 
 stood, would teach men, every where, to be careful of maintaining good 
 works, to love one another, and in all things to regard the best interest g 
 of their BROTHER MAN. 
 
 Conversant with the Preacher upwards of forty years, we never knew 
 his testimony to vary, in the smallest degree. In joy and in sorrow, 
 in health, in sickness, and in death, not a single cloud appeared to ga- 
 ther upon the Countenance of his God, or to obstruct, so far as it re- 
 ferred to his prospects beyond the grave, the clear sunshine of His soul. 
 
 If we except the Rev. John Tyler, episcopalian minister in Nor- 
 wich, Connecticut, and the Rev. Edward Mitchell in the city of New- 
 York, we do not know that the sentiments of any Preacher of Univer- 
 salism, now upon this Continent, are exactly in unison with the departed 
 Promulgator. But, if they build upon the great foundation, we de- 
 voutly wish them God speed ; well assured, that those who build upon 
 this foundation goW, silver, precious s/o??fs, wooc/, Aery, stubble eve- 
 
250 
 
 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 ry man's work shall be made manifest. For the day shall declare it, 
 because it shall be revealed by fire ; and the fire shall try every man's 
 work* of what sort it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built 
 thereupon, he shall receive a reward. Jfany maw's work shall be burnt, 
 he shall stiffen* loss, but he himself shall be saved ; yet so, as by fire. 
 
 Mr. Murray's last marriage was the result of a strong and holy 
 friendship, founded upon the Rock of ages ; and, originating in devout 
 admiration of redeeming love, it is fervently hoped, and unwaveringly 
 believed, that this Union will be perfected in ANOTHER AND A BETTER 
 WORLD. 
 
 One son, and one daughter, were the Offspring of this marriage. 
 The son surrendered his innocent life in the birth ; the daughter still 
 survives, the prop, and consolation of her WIDOWED MOTHER. 
 
TO BS SOLD AT FRANKLIN-PLACE, NO. 6, BOSTON, 
 
 LETTERS 
 
 AND 
 
 SKETCHES OF SERMONS. 
 
 In three Octavo Volumes. 
 
 BY REVEREND JOHN MURRAY. 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 LETTERS, FAMILIAR DIALOGUES, AND VARIOUS INVESTIGA- 
 TIONS OF DIFFICULT PASSAGES OF SCRIPTURE: 
 &MONG WHICH IS A COPIOUS EXPLANATION OF THE TWEN- 
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 THE SON OF PERDITION; 
 
 THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN, AND THE BEGGARj 
 THE DISCIPLE WHO BETRAYED HIS MASTER; 
 
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